#Radiant Kaleidoscope

[goshashka-design]

Radiant Abstract Art - Dynamic Swirls

https://v.ftcdn.net/07/47/44/21/700_F_747442196_kwWPKqJZaTtjj2AcUTj6vXgzK88Lreny_ST.mp4 Introduction In the realm of visual creativity, there exists an enchanting video titled “Radiant Abstract Art: Dynamic Swirls.” This mesmerizing composition weaves together radiant colors and symmetrical shapes, casting a spell upon the viewer. Its vibrant hues and intricate design beckon us into a world where…

[zweigsangel]

pairing: older!rafe x spoiled!kook!reader warnings: smut, age gap (18&22), pet names, p in v, unprotected sex, rough sex and more. word count: 2720

this is so long i’m sorryyyy, but i’m kinda proud of how it turned out so hope you enjoy !

you were a spoiled little brat. always demanding and getting what you wanted. your tantrums were a familiar scene, a tool you wielded expertly against your parents. and they always seemed to work, every. single. time. luxury bags, designer costumes, the latest dresses — you had everything that other girls could only dream of having. your life was perfect; boys were at your feet, a lot of girlfriends, parties every night, and you were the star of the show. what else could someone expect from an eighteen-year-old kook?

“there’s going to be a party tonight,” one of your girlfriends exclaimed. it was a lazy afternoon, and you were surrounded by the luxurious comforts of your backyard. a few of your friends were splashing around in the pool, their laughter mingling with the sound of water lapping against the tiles. others, like you, were stretched out on the sun loungers, basking in the warm sun. the air was filled with the scent of sunscreen and the distant aroma of blooming flowers.

“and it’s not just any party,” she continued, her eyes wide with excitement. “there will be older guys there! you know, past their teen years.” those words captured your interest, pulling your attention away from the magazine you were pretending to read. you lowered your sunglasses just a bit, the world tinted slightly less dark. your yellow bikini contrasted beautifully with your sun-kissed skin, making you look like a radiant summer icon.

“really?” you asked, propping yourself up on your elbows. your friend nodded enthusiastically, her smile as bright as the sun overhead. at that moment, a collective buzz of excitement spread among you all. you started squealing, chatting animatedly, voices overlapping. you were discussing the perfect outfits and how to make the most striking impression at the party.

and, wow, you definitely did. that evening, you decided on a daring little black dress, strapless and shimmering with countless sequins that caught the light with every step you took. it was the kind of dress that demanded attention, hugging your body in all the right places, emphasizing your curves. the neckline plunged just enough to be provocative, hinting at the possibility of revealing a bit more if you moved the wrong way. it was also undeniably short, so much so that if you bent over even slightly, there was the risk of revealing the delicate lace of your panties. as you slipped into a pair of sky-high heels, you knew you were ready to captivate the room.

the lights — pink, blue, and red — created a kaleidoscope of colors that blurred your vision as you danced with your friends. the pulsing beats of the music drove you, your hips swaying rhythmically, your hands gliding over your chest, and your head tilted back, lost in the moment.

“i’m going to get something to drink,” you shouted to your friends, your voice barely cutting through the pulsating music. making your way through the crowd, you arrived at the bar and leaned your elbows on the countertop, its cool surface contrasting with the warmth of your skin. your fingers drummed impatiently as your eyes roamed the room.

then, your eyes caught sight of someone who instantly commanded your attention. standing across the room was a guy — no, a man — who you clearly knew. it was rafe cameron, a well-known kook, and undeniably one of the most influential. you’d always found him irresistibly attractive. as you watched him, you couldn’t help but notice the way his white shirt was unbuttoned just enough to tease a glimpse of his sculpted chest, the fabric hugging his broad shoulders and lean torso perfectly.

his dark pants emphasized his athletic physique, fitting snugly yet elegantly. his face was a captivating blend of sharp and soft features — a strong jawline that, high cheekbones, and a pair of eyes that seemed to smolder with an intense, piercing gaze. his hair was casually tousled, a style that gave him an effortlessly cool demeanor. as he laughed at something one of his friends said, his lips curved into a smile that revealed a row of perfectly white teeth.

you found yourself licking your lips unconsciously, drawn to the scene before you. after receiving your drink from the bartender, you straightened up and began to walk toward him.

“hi!” you said with an innocent smile as you leaned casually against rafe’s well-defined bicep. tilting your head up, you met his gaze. rafe looked down at you, a playful smirk playing on his lips. “what’s up, kid? i think you’re too young to be here,” he teased, just loud enough to be heard over the music. his breath was warm against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. he chuckled, the sound deep and resonant, as he turned back to his friends.

your smile faltered, replaced by a pout. you pulled your arm away from his bicep. “i’m not a kid. i’m eighteen!” you protested, crossing your arms over your chest in a defensive gesture. rafe shrugged nonchalantly, his casual dismissal only fueling your indignation. “yeah, and i’m almost 23, so kid,” he said, his tone light and teasing as he waved you off dismissively.

your eyebrows knitted together. how dare he talk to you like that? you turned on your heels, clicking sharply against the floor as you made your way back to your friends. your face was flushed, a mix of embarrassment and annoyance coloring your cheeks.

but if rafe thought you had already given up, well, he was dead wrong. as he turned back around, he found himself staring into your doe eyes, which were locked onto him. you blinked slowly, your long lashes brushing against your cheeks as you bit your lower lip.

even as you danced, you made sure rafe noticed you. the music seemed to pulse through your veins, guiding the sway of your hips and the fluid movements of your body, drawing attention to the curve of your waist and the smooth line of your legs. your eyes would occasionally flicker in his direction, making sure he knew exactly who you were performing for. you ran your hands through your hair, letting it fall around your shoulders in a cascade, framing your face perfectly.

and he watched you, chuckling and shaking his head as he took in how desperate you seemed. each flicker of your eyelashes and every provocative movement only seemed to amuse him more. his amusement was evident in the way his eyes crinkled at the corners and the barely-contained smile that tugged at his lips.

and then, poof, he was gone. “he’s probably gone off to jerk off thinking about you,” one of your friends said with a playful nudge, and you couldn’t help but smirk at the joke.

but your life continued as usual: shopping, beach days, pool parties, and constant social outings. it was the routine of a spoiled kook who had been accustomed to such luxury since childhood.

yet, rafe occasionally slipped into your thoughts. sometimes you'd find your mind drifting back to that encounter. you couldn’t help but think about him, especially the way he dismissed you with that amused smile. you found yourself imagining what it would be like to get under his skin, to turn the tables and make him crave your attention. the fantasy of him needing you, added an intriguing layer to your otherwise glamorous life, turning a fleeting moment into an obsession you couldn’t quite shake.

but when your parents told you it was time to start working, it felt like your life shattered into a thousand pieces. the carefree days of endless leisure and indulgence seemed to vanish in an instant, replaced by the looming specter of responsibility.

“work? no, daddy, i can't work! come on!” you protested, jumping up from the couch where you’d been lounging, utterly shocked to hear such a word coming out of your father’s mouth. “sweetheart, you're getting older. you need to start. it’s nothing strenuous, you can handle it,” he said, his tone calm but firm, as if he’d anticipated your reaction.

you rolled your eyes dramatically, shaking your head in disbelief. “mommy, tell him something,” you pleaded, turning to your mother for support. her face softened, but her resolve matched your father’s. “sweetie, your father is right. it’s time for you to start doing something meaningful with your life.”

“ugh! this is so unfair!” you exclaimed, storming out of the living room, your frustration bubbling over. “serving food and drinks at the golf club, what a thrill!” you continued, your voice dripping with sarcasm, even as you were already halfway down the hall. the very idea of work felt like a massive disruption to the perfect world you had always known.

so, the next day, you arrived at the golf club grounds dressed in a crisp white polo top and a lace-trimmed skirt that fluttered lightly in the gentle breeze. you chewed your gum with an exaggerated pop, twirling a lock of your hair around your finger as your eyes were glued to your phone. leaning casually against the cart brimming with food and drinks, you barely noticed the lush green expanse of the golf course stretching out before you or the players attempting to perfect their swings. your thoughts were miles away, already in the comfort of your backyard pool.

“hey kid, can i get a bottle of water?” a voice broke through your reverie, jolting you back to the present. you sighed audibly, a trace of annoyance evident as you reluctantly tore your gaze from the phone screen and looked up. your eyes widened slightly when you recognized rafe cameron standing there, his tall frame outlined against the bright sun. he was dressed in casual golf attire: a pair of dark athletic shorts and a fitted polo shirt that hugged his frame. the shirt was a rich shade of blue that contrasted sharply with his tanned skin. he was watching you with a raised eyebrow, his golf club draped over his shoulder, a subtle challenge in his posture.

for a moment, you froze, the gum stalling in your mouth, your fingers still entwined in your hair. his presence was unexpected, and it took a beat for you to recover from the surprise. “well?” he prompted, his tone a mix of impatience and amusement.

you quickly straightened up, smoothing out the non-existent wrinkles on your skirt. “yes. yes, sorry.” you murmured, flustered, as you hurriedly moved behind the cart. your fingers fumbled slightly as you grabbed a bottle of water, the cool condensation a stark contrast to the warmth of your hand. as you handed it over, his long fingers brushed against yours ever so slightly, a fleeting touch that sent an unexpected shiver down your spine.

rafe took the bottle, a small smirk playing on his lips as he noticed your reaction. “thanks,” he said, his voice a low murmur that seemed to linger in the air. for a brief moment, your eyes met, and the world around you seemed to fade, leaving just the two of you standing there, the quiet tension palpable. then, as quickly as it had come, the moment passed, and he turned away, leaving you standing by the cart, your heart beating just a little faster than before.

and so it was that you began to love going there every morning. what had started as just a shitty job quickly turned into something else entirely. each day, your skirts grew shorter, the hemlines creeping higher to show off more of your legs, and sometimes, when you bent down just right, a glimpse of your panties would peek out. your tops became more revealing too, plunging necklines that barely contained your chest, with half-exposed cleavage and the faint outline of your nipples visible through the thin fabric.

you’d wear sunglasses, but they were never really meant to hide your eyes. instead, you’d let them slide down to the tip of your nose, giving you a perfect view of the course while still maintaining an air of disinterest. in your mouth, a lollipop, the bright candy swirling slowly between your lips as you licked it. you knew exactly what you were doing, and you were enjoying every minute of it.

rafe observed every little detail, his eyes catching the deliberate way you acted. he was well aware that every gesture was calculated to get his attention. the others noticed it too, their comments cutting through the atmosphere with lines like, “man, why don’t you just go for it?” he’d shake his head, trying to ignore their jabs, but inside he was a mess. you were younger than him, yet the way you acted around him seemed to defy that boundary.

each night, when he returned home, he would retreat to his room or the bathroom, closing the door firmly behind him. he would free his aching erection, his mind consumed by thoughts of you. he’d stroke himself, imagining you acting like a total slut just for him. he knew it was all wrong, utterly wrong, but the fantasy consumed him entirely. no one could ever discover the depths of his obsession, the way his desire twisted his thoughts.

and one day, he could no longer contain himself. after everyone else had left, only the two of you remained. he seized your arm with a firm grip, dragging you forcefully toward the locker room. “what the fuck!” you shouted in surprise, but he didn’t acknowledge your outburst. without a word, he yanked open the door of the nearest bathroom and shoved you against the wall, shutting the door behind him with a harsh click. his voice, a low and menacing whisper, cut through the tense silence as he muttered, “you little slut, you’re finally gonna get what you want.” his fingers fumbled with his pants and boxers, pulling them down in a swift, determined motion.

he moved your soaked panties to the side and slid his throbbing cock inside of you in one powerful motion. rafe lifted your legs, wrapping them around his hips, as one hand slipped underneath your thigh, providing support and the other encircled your neck. your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling and gripping as your body arched in pleasure. loud moans and gasps filled the little bathroom.

“you’re so tight— fuck.” his voice was ragged, filled with primal desire as he whispered in your ear, his words sending a jolt of anticipation through your body. the heat of his breath against your skin made you tremble, your senses heightening with each passing moment. your eyes closed in bliss, head falling back in surrender to the pleasure that consumed you. his hand gripped your chin. "you couldn't wait, could you? to be filled by my cock," he taunted, a smirk playing on his lips as he felt you nod eagerly, a silent affirmation of your longing. "i want words, kid," he demanded, his breath warm against your flushed skin. "yes, shit—yes," you moaned out, your body responding instinctively to his touch, your walls tightening around him.

"acting like a whore just f’me. cum, baby," he grunted. with each thrust, his cock was sliding in and your pussy with a quickened pace, creating a symphony of skin slapping against skin, the little space filled with the sound of it. your skirt was hiked up to your hips, fully exposed to him, while your hands gripped his shoulders tightly as you pulled at his shirt, overcome by the intensity of the moment.

with a guttural groan, he released himself inside you, his body tensing with the force of his release. you reached your orgasm too, your back arched in ecstasy as waves of pleasure washed over you. the air was thick with the scent of sex and sweat as you both rode the waves of climax together.

he lowered you, placing one hand on your hip as he noticed the trembling of your legs. his other hand gently caressed your cheek, streaked with mascara that had smudged from tears. "see you tomorrow, kid," he murmured, his voice rough and gravelly. then he turned and walked out of the bathroom, the door clicking softly behind him. left alone, you stood there, a faint, satisfied smile spreading across your lips, swollen and red.

you had finally gotten what you wanted.

[flametrashiraarchive]

The people have spoken!

Douma x BIG Boobs

NSFW beneath the cut. F!reader.

It was winter, the temple was cold, and your nipples were pretty hard (lol) to miss.

Your yukata was thin and you weren't wearing anything beneath it to support your soft, heavy breasts as you lined up to get your breakfast.

You looked like a fertility goddess, and that got his devious little brain whirring.

Muzan wouldn't allow the Eternal Paradise cult to have more than 200 followers at any one time, so Douma couldn't draw too much attention to himself (*pout pout*)

BUT you, on the other hand... you could have as many as you could attract

And with assets like those... well...

Douma just STARED, his eyes all wide and his lips curved into a devilish smile. (You know that one bit in the upper moon meeting when he whips his head round to stare at Akaza? That's how he was with your tits.)

"Dear, come here," he beckoned you over to him as he sat cross-legged on his cushion.

The moment you drew close he pulled the chord holding up the curtains and closed you off from the rest of his disciples.

He stood, towering over you, crooking a finger beneath your chin and tilting your face toward him.

"Hm... pretty..." he murmured to himself. Yes you could definitely attract a following. You wouldn't even need to speak. You could just sit on a dais and women would flock to you hoping for your blessing.

It didn't matter whether it worked or not. He was going to eat them all anyway.

Perhaps he'd start a rumor that they'd have to line up and rub your breasts for good luck and fertility? Or suckle upon them? Oh the thought of that made his dick twitch.

"Are you cold?" he said softly, brushing his knuckle over your stiffened nipple.

Your gasp made him chuckle. Of course you adored him, you were his disciple after all. You would let him do whatever he wanted.

He could feel the pitter patter of your mortal heart, your pupils spreading like ink droplets as you gazed up at him. Oh and that precious little quiver of your bottom lip.

You were scrumptious. Just the sweetest little thing.

He wasn't going to eat you, but he NEEDED something of yours in his mouth.

And if you were going to be a goddess then you needed to start getting used to being treated like one.

He got down on his knees, gazing up at you with those kaleidoscope eyes and smiled. "May I warm you up, most radiant one?"

He asked so nicely he knew you wouldn't refuse. You nodded and gave a breathy "yes."

He opened your yukata, tugging it down to your waist and just

....

Oh...

......

Oh you were a feast (for his eyes)

Never once, across centuries of *ahem* encountering women had he seen breasts quite like yours.

None so exquisitely large and heavy and ohh~ so soft he couldn't help but fill his hands with them and just grin as they spilled over.

And your poor nipples were all hardened from the cold. That wouldn't do at all.

He latched on to one of them, pressing his tongue flat against your aching bud, cock pulsing at the gentle moan which left your lips.

You braced your hands on his broad shoulders as you put your head back and whined.

As a demon, Douma didn't need to breathe, but you were certainly making him pant as he lapped at your nipple.

He couldn't resist pressing the pointed tips of his fangs to your supple flesh; not hard enough to break the skin, but enough that it got his heart pumping.

When you whimpered he was done for.

He picked you up, put you on his cushion and knelt at your feet, taking your hand and putting it around his cock as he continued to suckle from you.

You didn't need to do anything more than form a tunnel with your fist for him to fuck up into.

He switched sides and began to suck the other, bringing his hands to the first to flick your slippery nipple with his thumb.

The way you attempted to stifle your moans against your hand was adorable to him.

And when you squeezed your thighs together to satiate the ache building between them, well... that wouldn't do. His Goddess wasn't about to go unworshipped now.

You were on the same page as he was, practically pulling him by the cock toward your entrance, muffling your wanton cries as the disciples went on with their breakfast on the other side of the curtain.

Oh but you both were feasting in your own way, him on your succulent tits, you stuffed full of his cock.

Your hands caressed his chest as he rutted against you and Douma raised his head to grin.

"Mine aren't quite as fat as yours."

"Not quite," you whispered. "But almost."

Cheeky little thing, he adored you more with every second.

He punished and rewarded you for that comment by thrusting hard against you, biting your nipple before lavishing it with slow, hungry licks.

"I've always promised you paradise, my darling," he said as he set a steady rhythm with his hips. "It's about time I saw that through."

Oh the wet slap of your sopping cunt swallowing his dick was a thing of beauty. Your muffled whimpers, the sluttish blush on your cheeks and staining your chest were art.

Douma was completely lost in you; his face buried between your breasts, biting, licking, sucking, groaning between them as your greedy pussy clenched and fluttered around his dick, dragging him over the edge with you.

You came together; his rainbow eyes rolling back as he pressed firmly into you pumping you full of his cum and claiming you as his own.

His Goddess whom he would not share.

"Now, wasn't that fun?" He cooed, pinching your nipples between his fingers and laughing. "Are you all warmed up?"

You nodded as you fought to catch your breath and Douma smiled.

"Good... because I'm just getting started."

[sleepydeprived]

A Chance for Redemption

—A mysterious high school student appears out of the blue, bearing the face of the late Martha Wayne and puzzling even Gotham’s greatest detectives.

[chapter 1]

| Platonic!Yandere!Batfam x Reader

| Inspired by the work of @e-nonsense “GHOST OF A LONG GONE WOMAN”

The Gotham City skyline stretched across the horizon, its towering structures standing as silent guardians in the night. Inside the dimly lit study of Wayne Manor, Bruce Wayne sat alone amidst shadows that mirrored the complexities of his own mind.

A sudden beep from the Batcomputer broke the stillness. Bruce glanced at the screen, and his piercing gaze narrowed at the news report flashing across the monitor. The headline sent a ripple through him.

"Wayne Heiress Emerges: Striking Resemblance to Late Martha Wayne. Who is she?"

His heartbeat quickened as images of the young girl filled the screen. The uncanny resemblance to his late mother, Martha, struck him like a blow. The gentle curve of her smile, the warmth in her eyes — it was as if a much younger version of Martha had been reborn in a face he had never known.

For a moment, the air in the study thickened with silence. Bruce's jaw tightened, and a flood of memories surged, carrying him back to the night of his parents' tragedy. He saw Martha's face, radiant and full of life, before the darkness took her away. Now, that same face stared back at him from the screen.

"What is this?" Bruce muttered to himself, his fingers tapping impatiently on the polished surface of the mahogany desk.

With a decisive gesture, he rose from his seat and moved toward the Batcave. Alfred, his ever-watchful confidant, observed the turmoil in Bruce's eyes.

"Master Wayne, might I inquire about the cause of your distress?" Alfred's calm voice cut through the tension.

Bruce handed Alfred a tablet displaying the news report. As Alfred scanned the images, the lines on his forehead deepened in concern.

"An unexpected development, sir. Shall I investigate further?" Alfred offered, his loyalty unwavering.

"No, Alfred. I'll handle this myself,"

In the heart of the Batcave, surrounded by the symbols of his dual life, Bruce Wayne accessed the Batcomputer with purpose, initiating a search that would unravel the truth behind the possible Wayne heiress.

As information unfolded on the screen, Bruce's stoic demeanor flickered with a kaleidoscope of emotions. The mystery of his potential blood-related daughter, bearing the face of his beloved mother, demanded answers that eluded even the World's Greatest Detective.

In the shadows of Wayne Manor, a silent storm brewed. All veiled behind the haunting gaze of a daughter who bore the visage of a long-lost woman.

[hwaightme]

Safe and San

THIS IS 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI FOR MOUNT'S SAKE (nsfw tags under the cut) (masterlist)

🟡 pairing: san x afab!reader 🟡 genre: smut, pwp, fluff, established relationship 🟡 summary: in the coolness of an early morning, choi san reveals to you what it means to love in a quiet timelessness, where all that exists is you, him, and the sunrise. 🟡 wordcount: 5.3k 🟡 warnings/tags: fiance san, falling asleep in the living room reading together, sharing hoodies, just loving each other, summer season - yes it is spring but now it is summer because san said so, hoodie san, cuddles, hugs and kisses, sort of edited sort of not (lmk if there is intense chaos anywhere) 🟡 taglist: @doom-fics @legohwa @acciocriativity @justhere4kpop @honey-lemon-goose @byuntrash101 @shakalakaboomboo @starillusion13 @hongthoven 🟡 a/n: seriously idk where this came from, all I know is that I have been occasionally mindblanking and... here we are. Much love and all reblogs, comments, notes welcome <3

🟡 nsfw taglist: the petname content is intense in this one (sun, moon, stars, summer, honey, darling, love... nicknames...), all the praise, lazy sex, no protection (wrap before tap c'mon), cum inside, cockwarming, sex while in a state of semi-dress, fingering, the softest dom san, basically a service dom

The early morning haze entranced you. An ever-changing palette, the walls of your living room appeared to take on a different hue every time you languidly blinked, still fighting the heavy remnants of sleep. After having forgotten to completely draw the curtains, the luminescence of the cheerful, expectant sun crept across the cold wooden floor in a shy line, barely caressing the cream wall on the other side of the room, centimetres away from producing a kaleidoscopic scene by hitting the glass inserts of the shelving unit. The soft cushions that lined the l-shaped couch, and the woollen throw that hid you from the chill, were a cloud suspended in a tranquil bliss. You studied the familiar, adored surroundings as they metamorphosed from a lilac wonder to a glowing mandarin masterpiece, the brushstrokes of a pastel pink, coating the awakening sky, peeking from the other side of the window, capturing your bleary attention.

Not a sound, except for the level breathing of the man beside you. The man who had your love so fully, so deeply that you were not sure if the slow thudding in your chest was real, or was simply an echo, a comfortable illusion that you had agreed to settle for just so that you could give the heart away for him to keep. He would most definitely keep it safe. Find a neat little box for it, and, if you were lucky, find a place for it somewhere between the books and the video game DVDs, and admire it whenever he would walk past. Or perhaps he would be crafty enough to find a way of putting it in his pocket and carrying it around with him wherever he went – that way, you could miss him less than you normally did when you were apart. Shame you only had one heart, because you would give Choi San the universe if you could.

Your fiancé was like the grand starry expanse in the night, paving the way for explorers, lovers, and mystical creatures alike, and the radiant manifestation of Apollo in the day, bestowing upon the earth a hope, a heavenly brilliance, a magic the secret to which only he knew. With each moment that passed, you had come to understand that there was always more to San. Be it hidden in a sigh, in an enchanting glimmer in his eyes or in a simple gesture, he was an ethereal enigma that you were shocked, and infinitely grateful, existed.

Careful to not disturb him, which was a challenge in its own right considering that you had used his broad chest as your pillow, you lifted the throw ever so slightly and rose into a seated position. You gingerly adjusted the material back, and twisted yourself to be seated on the edge, and facing the literal sleeping beauty before you. You let your eyes travel across his resting face. From his forehead that was obscured by adorably ruffled onyx locks that poured out from underneath his grey hoodie. To his eyelids and lashes that showed the tiniest movement, making the soft light occupying the room land onto the little hairs and turn them to white gold. Down to the perfect line of his nose, the tip of which you liked to plant a quick peck on when you wanted to see your fiancé get flustered. And to his alluring lips which were parted ever so slightly. In the somnolent daze there was an angelic quality to him, a peace that you wanted to sink into and never depart from.

This was one of the first mornings in a while, that you had all the time in the world to keep on staring. For the most part, it was either you or San, or both of you having to get up and rush out of the door for work after having snoozed the alarm a ‘healthy’ number of times. Which is why it was surprising that you were even awake – five o’clock was not exactly your usual territory, and if not for the summer season blessing you with longer hours of sunshine, it was likely that you would not have distinguished between dream and reality, and dozed off lulled by the rise and fall that came with San’s every breath. But your wakefulness had its beauty: there was no stress spurring you on, and the sight of your love beside you, serenity written across his features, made you grateful for the surprising perkiness. For this short while, your personal heaven could be committed to memory, and serve as a transformation for every future when you would need to ‘rise and shine’.

You spotted San’s reading glasses lying, discarded, between his body and the back of the couch, inches from being squashed, while the books you and him had been reading were lying in awkward positions on the floor, much to your amusement. Careful not to damage the pages any more than they had been, you reached to pick the novels up, momentarily studying the covers before marking the pages with what turned out to be a folded receipt and a post-it with the glue segment torn off, and placing them on the coffee table. You settled back into a seated position, tucking one of your legs under you and pulling down the base of your oversized tee. A shiver passed down your back, reminding you of the fact that the air conditioner, your saving grace after the summer heat kicked in, rendering natural ventilation impossible if you wanted fresh air not laden with pollution and unbearable humidity, had been running at full power all night. Only now that you have removed yourself from the human radiator that was your fiancé did you realise this, and began to construct an escape plan that, hopefully, would not break San's peaceful slumber. If you were lucky, perhaps you could snatch and save his glasses.

These small troubles, trivialities of daily life were what brought a smile to your face. Endearing dilemmas that left you confident that what you were experiencing was a continuous blessing. Tongue between your teeth, poking ever so slightly out of your mouth, you concentrated on stalking towards the spectacles. Having stood up from the sofa, you were in a half crouch, bare feet sinking into the soft carpet, with only the rumble of the air conditioner to accompany you. When you were already hovering above San's chest, arm out reached to fish out your target, your breath hitched as he shifted and smacked his lips, following the adorable gesture by placing his arm, which previously was your only line of defence against falling off the sofa, over his abdomen, which in turn made the glasses fall a little deeper, just out of your reach. You mouthed a 'now what', contemplating your next course of action - you were getting cold, but too stubborn to accept a so-called defeat in this miniature game of capture the metaphorical flag.

The only way out was to summon the powers of feline agility and hope that San decided to be a deep sleeper today. Knee sinking into the edge of the pillow, the stitching digging into your skin as you inched forward while trying to keep a toe still on the ground, a peculiar source of security for the case that a quick retreat might be needed. Fingers flittering across the material, reminiscent of the pitter patter of rain - every effort to blend into the dormant landscape, an accidental echo of a season recently culminated. Closer and closer, your leg was a mere few centimetres away from San's torso, and you were arched over him, checking for any sudden changes in his position. But he was still. Almost too still. You narrowed your eyes and scanned his face, but could not detect any difference, aside from his mouth now being pressed together, however he did that in his sleep on occasion, so you paid it no mind. Suppressing a shiver, what used to be careful manoeuvring turned into risk as you took one final look at what you determined to be the sleeping form beneath you, and made a reach for the glasses, quietly hissing out a congratulations to yourself as soon as you felt your fingers touch the frame. Just a little more and you would be able to go get a sweater. Or turn the air conditioning off. Perhaps, since you were still occasionally blinking away the remnants of dreamland, you would get a cup of morning brew ready, and properly greet the sunrise by lounging on the tiny, but nevertheless welcoming terrace encased in shimmering glass. Or so you had hoped, until, as you were making your so-called journey back, a strong pair of arms snaked around your waist, and sharply pulled you in, so you now found yourself pressed flush against your sleepyhead love.

“Hmm… where are you going?” San mumbled, voice deep and groggy, resonating right above you as you wiggled to nuzzle into his neck, triumphantly holding onto his specs with one hand, pleased with yourself for having accomplished your initial task.

“‘s cold, so I need something warm.” It always took some time for him to register what you would say to him as he was waking up – on a number of occasions, he had not been able to recollect a single thing. So you kept your words simple, but even that made him give an exasperated whine as he hugged you tighter and rubbed the side of his face against your head, resulting in his hood being pushed back to reveal more of the heavily ruffled locks of jet black hair.

“But you have me… Y/N…” while answering you, San had managed to kick away the blanket fully, so that it now formed a dark grey heap at the other end of the sofa.

“I didn’t want to wake you, love,” you whispered back, shutting your eyes and relishing in the sensation, “you looked so cute and so peaceful.”

“What?” the sudden question made you raise your head momentarily, only to find San squinting right at you, “Nah… no.”

“No? My Sannie isn’t cute?” you asked, voice tinged with playful disappointment as you let your head fall back down, and took a deep breath.

Much like the early morning light, the mixture of cotton and San’s cologne was unequivocally captivating. It was the scent of the lazy days, the moments when you would allow yourselves to fall asleep, much like today, on the living room couch, legs intertwined after having spent the entire evening reading. An aroma of an embrace, a slow dance and a humming of a tune that only you knew, the notes that carried with themselves the melody of sweetest memories. The interplay of hemlock and bergamot, accompanied by heliotrope and mimosa – when you had pestered San enough times, he had read the profile out for you, the brief paragraph now forever imprinted in your mind in his timeless timbre.

A hand travelled underneath your t-shirt, trailing up and down your spine a couple of times before settling on tracing random patterns on the small of your back. You stifled a gasp as your fiancé took to toying with the waistband of your tracksuit bottoms, and, still laden with sleep, grunted and uttered his short, gruff retort.

“Not when I’ve read what I’ve read… ‘m surprised I even fell asleep.”

“Oh? And what was it you read?” a soft grin settled on your face as you sank into the feeling of San’s hands moulding you to his heart’s content. Unable to settle for one place, they roamed your body, worshipping every curve.

“Mm… too sleepy to explain…” he leaned into you, and upon nudging you to lie down a little bit higher, trailed a series of kisses down from your jawline to your neck, nipping at the sensitive skin, “…but I could show you.”

“Is that so? Well, I’m more than interested.”

“Wake me up a little bit more and I’ll give you a spoiler.” One of his hands travelled to meet your chin, and tilt it forwards so that his dark, glowing pools of adoration could meet yours, pupils trained on every micro expression despite being cradled in a blur, contained by relaxed lids and wispy eyelashes.

“Such a tease, Sannie.” You whispered, and gave into San’s guidance towards his soft lips, closing the space between you.

The infinite gradient of the sky’s spectacular hues exploded in your vision, as love’s intimate caress ignited a radiance within. With every passing moment, just as the cherry blossoms twirled to the ground in a muted waltz, giving way to flamboyant hydrangeas and mystical lilies, you too, fell deeper and deeper only to bloom once again with a new evolved adoration. A love that grew day in, day out. A love that motivated you to go on until tomorrow, for you knew that you would love even more then, and come to understand the naïve emptiness that you had trusted to be infatuation in the past. Fuller and fuller the soul became. The fuelled up inner fire that contained and protected your safe haven and your eternal paradise. While lilac skies and lavender fields blended into a heavenly unity only for a season, gifting natural beauty for a fleeting appreciation of its temporary existence, the reality that you and San had crafted was evergreen. It was, of course, expected to waver, much like any flowers that were meant to bloom, but together, you would sway and intertwine, two lifetimes turned to one harmonious duet in an everchanging landscape.

New leaves and blossoms replacing those that wilted, but to inexperienced eyes, devoid of recognising the impeccable, intricate details of time, it meant continuity. It meant immortality and a youthfulness that did not know time. This was how life with San had been and will continue to be forevermore. Each tender gaze and caress, the sweetest sigh into your ear was a rekindling of something greater, and left you in an ecstatic daze. The invisible paths of his strong hands exploring every inch of skin left behind a budding desire as you thought back to the transforming garden of hues outside the apartment, now turned to a colourful prologue for the beginning of your hazy summer day.

“Tease… I’m very polite, I’ll have you know.” You giggled as San broke away from the kiss, revealing his lovable pout. Unable to resist, you pushed your free arm up and cupped one side of his face, running your thumb over the cheek, poking his nose with your own as you broke into a wide grin. The action had an effect on San as he moved and tightened his grip to your hips, not once breaking his gaze, while the expression changed entirely.

Like a traveller who had finally found their oasis after an eternity of roaming the scalding hot sands, persevering through madness, he revered you. An unfiltered, unabashed, quiet love that could only be felt amidst total tranquility emanated from him as he resisted the urge to never let go, instead relishing in the beautiful, fleeting instances that you could spend together. Timeliness had taught him to treat each moment with special attention, but with you, he need not try. You were the moment. You were the one who shared his rhythm. You were the meandering river that he would forever prefer and worship over a roaring, cacophonic ocean. Elegance, grace – an identity that could never be replicated. In the rolling tides of strangers, he would always search for where the river met the sea, and would marvel at just how quickly he gravitated towards you. His priceless love and life, the one with whom he wanted to see every sunrise and sunset.

“Well then, gentleman, care to warm me up? Since I have been so politely intercepted.” The attempt at a joke flew over San’s head, but nonetheless, your wish was rapidly granted as he propped up his left leg so it was bent at the knee and his foot was steadily positioned on the couch. Arms still wrapped around you, he gave you another peck and inquired, voice low:

“Y/N, may I… roll you over?”

“Yes, you may. See? Such a sweetheart.” Words of praise always found their way into your responses when it came to your fiancé. Sometimes to obtain his shyness – a breath of spring, or relief – to last the autumn and the biting winter, or, like now, to lie down, impressed at the evoking of the blazing, sultry summer.

He encouraged you to give up any balance you had, and with impressive care switched you places, so that you were now the one resting on a fabric pillow, enveloped between the echoes of San’s body heat on the material, and the man himself, who had one arm on either side of you, and a goofy, proud smile adorning his features. Unable to contain yourself under his intense scrutiny, you raised the glasses you had been securely keeping, and unfolded them to try place a barrier between San and you. But to no avail. Reading your intentions, what used to be a pure cheekiness suddenly gained a darker colour, that of an intimate dusk, and lifting a hand, he hooked the spectacles right out of your outstretched hands, and raised an eyebrow.

“I can see you pretty well, darling. I am more than awake and focused now.”

He tossed the glasses onto the coffee table, sighing in relief as he saw them stop their sliding journey right before the far edge, which earned him a rolling of the eyes from you.

“All these efforts to get them, and you are ready to throw them into oblivion, yeah?”

“No idea what you mean, all I see is that everything is how it’s meant to be.”

The strength of his glances as he brushed your hair out of your face was reminiscent of the sun at its zenith, while the kisses he peppered on your forehead, flushed cheeks and longing lips were the rays of sunshine that would trickle down from the skies through cloudy barriers. The contrast in his light touches and their intentions as he slid a hand under your t-shirt and found your bare breast was immersing you in your personal summer. Your head fell further back, and you let out a satisfied sigh as San took the opportunity immediately, searching for the sensitive spot on your neck.

Taking his time, San nipped at it, while sending your mind into a disarray once his hand pinched your nipple and began to rub languid circles over its very tip, sending an electrifying shock to your core. One kiss after another, he was soon sucking on the sweet flesh, proudly giving life to a garden of unbridled lust spurred by a desire to show closeness. San wanted to melt into you. Melt with you. No embrace was close enough when souls could be together, and so through intimacy and the approach of ‘a small death’ did he strive to express his adamantine devotion to you. Any evidence of your harmony was nothing but heavenly music for him, and it was with pride that he claimed you, and was elated when you claimed him, be it in gratitude, in bliss or in frustration for your yet to be released high.

Your hands snaked themselves around San's perfectly sculpted torso, pulling the hoodie and the black tee underneath, higher and higher, until you could slip beneath, and your cooler skin touched his. The action made San stop his teasing and chuckle against your neck, while his body reacted automatically to roll his hips against yours, member concealed by layers of clothing growing more prominent and pressing against the material of his bottoms.

"Cold." The comment, uttered hoarsely though holding nothing but excitement for what is to come encouraged you to tilt your head and kiss San’s jaw, preparing to return his little, colourful favour.

"Told you."

"Mm, I know a way to fix that." Alas, you were not fast enough, and he lifted himself off you, the loss of contact making you whine. To remind you of his proximity, one of his legs remained between your thighs, knee too close to your core for you to interpret his steps as unintentional, innocent, serene.

With one final smirk in your direction as he caught you eyeing his body voraciously, San took off his hoodie, and motioned for you to sit up – only for him to grab your hand, and cautiously pull you towards him, grinning once you understood his mission and raised your arms above your head. It did not matter – the design, the colour, the cut… any item of clothing that belonged to him, in his opinion, looked better on you for the simple reason that it could hug your form, be an extension of him if he was away and could not wrap you up in his arms. At times, when you were showering, he would purposefully replace your clothes with an item of his just so the scent of your favourite shampoo could linger, and your image would be even more easily imprinted in his mind. Not that it was much of a challenge in the first place, but having all of his senses being preoccupied only with perceiving you was a state he wished could turn into permanence.

“Ah, but there’s a catch, my love.”

“Come on…” you whined and fluttered your eyelashes.

“These,” he grabbed onto the waistband of your tracksuit pants, “off.”

“Yes sir.” As soon as you uttered the phrase you noticed a lustful darkness flash in your fiancé’s gaze, one which he, much to your surprise, suppressed and shook his head.

“Y/N don’t do this to me, or you will not get up ‘til sunset.”

“If that’s your plan, would I even be able to get up?”

“And that’s why I want to make love, Y/N. I want to love you quietly… lie down for me, darling?” he requested, interlacing his urge with the words of one of your favourite poets. A tenderness in his directing you, how he reduced the bottoms and panties he had hooked along with them to a mere accessory on the floor, and how he caressed your thighs, revering every detail, was leaving you breathless. But, just as he was approaching your exposed, aroused sex, you called out to him, reaching for the hand that was resting on your leg.

“Then look at me.”

“Hm?”

“I want to see your pretty face, love.”

The dimples that fell into his cheeks as he beamed at you, crawling up to be right by your side much like a cat would, and letting you roll over so that you were nose to nose, sharing hot breath, made you fall in love again. Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say ‘rise’ in love, for when you were like this, vulnerable, and yet so totally safe, you felt like you were soaring.

San took no time in finding your lips, relishing in the stifled moan that escaped you as his fingers teased your moistened labia. A leg resting over his, you were enamoured with the gentleness of his worship of you. The tip of his tongue begged for entrance and elicited a muted sigh as it entered to explore you. With an approving hum, San curled his digits and let your walls clench around him, as he proceeded to set an unhurried pace, knowing you, knowing how to coax out every feeble mewl and build you up to an unforgettable ruin. You had the luxury of time, every worry replaced with the opportunity to connect and combine into one.

There was an added pleasure that came with the surpassing of the excitement of your relationship’s novelty. The intricate mapping of your fantasies had now taken on a new level of complexity, and the sequences transformed into a language only you and San shared. Delighted in the lewdness of sound that was produced by the relaxed pumping of his fingers into you, the gorgeous man further deepened your kiss by taking the strings of his hoodie, now adorning your frame, and drawing you in. Whatever illusion of space between was now entirely gone, and all that existed for you was San’s touch, San’s fragrance, San’s body heat, and the knot in your stomach that was getting tighter his thumb ran circles over your aroused clit.

There was no urgency in his movement as he unravelled you, even though, as you adjusted your positioning, you became aware his stiff erection. The sudden friction caused San to gasp, and, when you brushed your leg against his again, to test the waters, he pleaded, voice ragged and airy:

“Let me take care of you, honey.”

“But San-” you protested, hand palming his length, but denied as he kissed the response away from you.

“You’ll help me out with that later.”

“But I can get an early start.” A final attempt, only spurring San on to push his fingers deeper into you, massaging your pussy until he hit your most sensitive spot, earning a yelp and an approaching tender pulsation.

“Needy for this cock, huh?”

“Ah…What happened to… mfph… sentimental lover boy?” you joked through shallow breaths, choking out every word as you clung onto San’s t-shirt for support in your approaching high.

“I’m still here. Still here… You look beautiful, Y/N… taking my fingers so well, dressed up in my hoodie…” he praised, emphasising his role in your unwinding. Gazing at the love bites he had left on your soft skin through hooded, lust-filled fog, he was motivated to give you any satisfaction you could possibly desire.

“Sannie, please… ah that feels so good…”

“Please what, darling? Hm, tell me.”

Continuing to relentlessly abuse your g-spot, San sweetly took in your writhing form, enjoying the power that he had in this moment, while a ray of the morning sun crept across the floor towards you, traversing the territory of the living room like a foolishly courageous voyeur.

“Faster, please…”

“But it’s so early sweetheart, don’t you want to take it easy?” he inquired, knowing full well that you would not give him a well-structured response, intoxicated by the intensifying arousal, climbing closer and closer to a climax.

“Ah… please… Mm… I need…”

“Elaborate, or I cannot heed to your caprices.”

“I need you inside me.”

“Is that so? Well, I can’t deny you anything, my love.”

Reduced to a whimpering mess, you waited with bated breath as San shuffled to finally push down his trousers and reveal his throbbing member, now adorned with rivulets of pre-cum after having been left abandoned while his digits satisfied you. In a matter of seconds, you could feel its tip against your folds, gliding up and down the slick until you inadvertently bucked your hips towards him, unable to hold on for any longer without a stronger stimulation. Luckily, San was in a loving mood, and submitted to your silent begging. Soon enough, he began to drive into you, so agonisingly slow so as to not force how perfectly your pussy accepted him, and once his pelvis was flush against yours, embraced you. He strived to have you entirely, as if, even when you were with him, he missed you.

Overwhelmed by the fullness your head tilted forward, your forehead meeting San’s as he barely withdrew his cock, and re-entered you, mumbling fuzzy words of praise at how well you were taking him, and just how heavenly your soaked cunt was as he went deeper, rocking his hips upwards to drown himself in your heat.

The world on fire, skin lapping against skin like waves of a mountainous current, painting the landscape in the hues of a blazing sunrise, much like how hedonistic desire washed over you. It grew at an alarming speed until it was threatening to bloom, a crimson rose of undying attraction and adoration for the man who was offering himself to you as your cunt clamped around him. San was entranced by you, and wanted more than what ‘more’ could signify, lifting your leg and throwing it over his to bring you to your sensual demise. Your grasp of his tee tightened as the pounding became hungrier, and you dropped the act of being able to contain a portion of your moans, letting the salacious melodies go right by San’s ears, interlaced with expletives and your beloved’s name.

With every affirmation to roll off your tongue that he had only recently confronted with his own, he would grind harder into you with ease, now that you were propped up just how he wanted you. San could never get enough of your flushed cheeks as the ripples of pleasure ran through you, with his cock rendering you speechless, muscles tightening in anticipation of a crashing orgasm. Only feeble, high-pitched gasps bounced around the walls of the living room, blending into the warm ambiance as your climax hit you – a monsoon, the season controlled by none other than your fiancé, who kept up his flow, mumbling barely coherent phrases:

“So gorgeous, my love, that’s right. Come for me, come over my cock-”

It was not long after your orgasm that his thrusts lost their steadiness, San’s grip on your thigh grew unbelievably tight and he dived to find stability in the dip between your shoulder and neck, leaving feathery kisses and biting the area to suppress his low grunts, now turned to helpless moans that served to prolong your own high.

The erratic motions of his hips culminated in a series of deeper thrusts as he buried his dick as deep as he could inside you, groaning as ropes of cum painted your still-pulsating walls, that seemed to be pleading for more, greedily taking every drop. You rolled your lower half a couple of times, ecstatic from the dizzying fullness that his cock and thick release provided, causing some of the cum to ooze out, threatening to coat your inner thighs. San had no plans on moving, at least not until mist lifted from his consciousness, and he could conjure up at least one thought that did not relate to having you again.

While his dick twitched inside you, you attempted to remain as still as possible, regaining San’s attention by whispering his name. Through half-lidded eyes he gazed back, sending you a shy smile so endearing, and so much brighter than every star, contrasting the remnants of earlier intimacy in the form of a bead of sweat that concealed itself under the hair that fell over his face, and the reddened, plump lips.

“San?”

“Hmm?”

“I’d say I’m very warm now.” He chuckled, making you bashfully glance off to the side, catching the reflection of the sky in the coffee table. The simple ability to hear San’s husky voice as he drifted with you in post-coital bliss, an arm lazily resting on your waist, was a blessing.

“Anytime, my love.” He matched your lightheartedness and squeezed your side.

Your precious sun and moon. The one with whom your heart beat in unison, the one who had read you like a novel, front to back, back to front until he could recount every detail better than you ever could. Time stood still as you lied there, on the couch, sharing addictive nectar and basking in the afterglow. The day only beginning, the room decorated in a light gold hue. Unwilling to part just yet, you shared another kiss with San, in adoration for how the early morning haze entranced you.

[pickingupmymercedes]

I need you to let me go - Lewis Hamilton

Sequence: Not just a pretty face / I need you to let me go / Fly on my own / Leap of faith (bonus)

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Reader!

warnings: angsty

wordcount: +2K

a/n: It's not even a slowburn atp, just pure longing and angst. Anyway, do we want a happy ending or just pure heartbreak and right person wrong time trope?

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

_______________________________________

The air thrummed with a deafening bass beat, the pulsating lights painting the faces in the opulent ballroom with a kaleidoscope of colors.

Y/n felt the familiar unease crawl up her arms. Parties like this were a necessary evil, a way to keep her father's business connections happy. But that night, the forced smiles and meaningless conversations felt unbearable. Her eyes flitting across the room, searching for the familiar dark hair she had seen before, a hint of that easy swagger that always seemed to draw her gaze.

Lewis stood laughing to a corner, his arm casually draped around the waist of a blonde model. Y/n recognized her from his Instagram baddies rounds; someone with a penchant for fame, fast cars and the medal that was having Lewis Hamilton for a weekend.

A sharp annoyance twisted in her stomach, but not jealousy, not exactly. It was more a bitter disappointment, a confirmation of something she'd always knew but had been trying to ignore. Lewis, the man who often made her world tilt on its axis, was just like the others and their list of conquests.

She straightened her back, forcing a smile onto her lips as a group of her father's associates approached. They were a predictable bunch – men with oil money dripping from their tailored suits, wives adorned with enough diamonds to blind those who didn’t know any better.

The conversation followed a familiar script – pleasantries about the weather, questions on her father, on who would take after his business, about her "jet-setting lifestyle." Y/n answered with practiced ease, her mind already a million miles away.

But then a voice cut through the monotonous drone. "Y/n! Looking as radiant as ever."

She turned to see Francis Chrysler, heir to a automobile empire and carrying his family name on that party, much like Y/n. They had known each other since they were kids, Y/n would travel up north to spend summer in the Hamptons with her grandmother and Francis would meet his parents in the US, back from his bordering school in the UK.

Y/n couldn’t deny he was something. Tall, impeccably dressed, and with a smile that could charm the birds from the trees, Francis was exactly the type of man everyone hoped she’d marry – stable, successful, from a “good family” and undeniably the type to merge her family’s fortune to even deeper riches.

But that night, he was also the perfect tool for the job at hand.

"Francis" she replied, a touch of coolness in her voice. "Lovely to see you."

The blonde took her hand, his fingers lingering a beat too long. "I must say, I didn’t expect to see you in the city so early in the year."

" You know me too well. I’d much rather stay in California until it’s warm enough up here" she said, her eyes scanning the room again. Lewis was gone, the blonde model nowhere to be seen.

“But duty called?” Francis focused his gaze on her, trying to get her to look at him before he touched her arm “Something like that” she finally conceded, looking up at him with a warm but emotionless smile.

The rest of the night was a blur of champagne flutes and hollow conversations. Francis, was attentive, even charming in his way. But his attentions only served to highlight the hollowness that echoed inside her.

Lewis's fleeting stares, the way his eyes seemed to see right through her meticulously facade - those were the things she craved, the things she couldn't have.

As the party started to wind down, Y/n found an excuse to slip away. She needed air, needed a moment of sanity away from the suffocating atmosphere and maybe some fresh air from her own mind.

Stepping outside onto the balcony, she took a deep breath of crisp night air. The city lights shimmered below, a glittering reminder of everything she was supposed to aspire. But all she could think about was how her mind and heart could never reach an agreement.

A sudden movement near the edge of the balcony caught her eye. Lewis stood there by himself, leaning against the railing, his face hidden in the shadows. A surge of conflicting emotions coursed her as she noticed he too studied her face – relief, anger, hope.

"Lewis," she said, her voice barely a whisper.

"Enjoying the company, Y/n?" His voice was a low murmur, his hands gripping a bit too tight against the metal bar.

The question was laced with a playful challenge, a reminder of her earlier display with Francis as they talked and his hand rested a bit too low on her waist. "I manage" she replied, forcing a lightness that didn't quite reach her eyes.

"So, I see," he said, his gaze dropping to where the blonde’s hand had been. A flicker of something dark crossed his face before it was quickly masked by a charming smile. "He seems...familiar with you."

"He's harmless" Y/n said dismissively, the lie bitter on her tongue.

"Didn’t look like that" Lewis countered, his voice taking on a serious edge.

They stood there, the unspoken tension hanging heavy in the air. Y/n, unable to bear the weight of his gaze any longer, broke eye contact.

"Jealousy doesn't suit you, Y/n" Lewis said, his voice laced with amusement.

She scoffed. "Jealousy? Don't flatter yourself, Lewis. You can have your little arm candy."

His amusement vanished, replaced by a coldness that made her shiver. "Is that what he was then? Your arm candy?"

Silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating. Y/n knew she was playing a dangerous game, one that probably wouldn’t end well.

"Why the charade, Y/n?" He took a step closer, the air crackling with unspoken tension. "Why the forced smiles?"

"Maybe," she countered, her voice holding steadier than she felt "because I'm tired of the stolen glances and the late-night texts that lead to nothing."

Lewis stared at her; his expression unreadable. She could almost hear the cogs turning in his mind, processing her outburst.

A bitter laugh escaped her lips. "Don't tell me you haven't felt it too, Lewis. The frustration, the longing. We dance around each other like moths to a flame, but neither one of us dares to get burned."

He remained silent; his jaw clenched tight. Finally, he spoke, his voice hoarse. "What do you want, Y/n? Because honestly, I have no idea anymore. It was never a secret how I feel about you."

Her heart hammered against her ribs. Here it was, the question she both dreaded and craved.

The answer, however, remained a tangled mess of emotions.

"I..." she started, then stopped.

There was the comfortable life she'd always known, the endless jet-setting, the security of her family's wealth. The power she carried with her from a very young age. A power her mother had taught her to never take for granted. To never trade for a man.

But then there was Lewis, her very own whirlwind of passion and ambition who challenged everything she thought she knew and wanted. He was exhilarating and terrifying in equal measure. And she couldn’t stand the possibility of changing a single inch of him, even if he offered.

"I don't know," she finally admitted, a tear rolling down her cheek. A truth so raw and honest it took her by surprise to being able to say out loud.

Lewis reached out, brushing the tear away with his thumb. His touch a reminder of their connection that transcended words. For a moment, they were lost in each other's eyes, a silent peace hanging in the air.

"But you want something" he pressed gently.

She nodded, unable to speak through the lump in her throat. Part of her yearned for a life intertwined with his, a life with the adrenaline he came intertwined with. The other though, craved stability, a future that she could plan about.

"Why are we doing this, Lewis?" she blurted out, finally turning to face him fully again. "This game of… of pretending we don't care."

His jaw clenched briefly, a flicker of frustration mirroring her own. "Because," he began, his voice low and controlled, "because it's easier than this. Easier than admitting what this is."

He gestured vaguely between them; the unspoken truth thick in the air.

"And what exactly is this, then, Lewis?" she challenged, a tremor in her voice finally showing the faltering of her walls.

He took a step closer, his eyes searching hers, and with each step, the temperature between them seemed to rise, Y/n not backing the slightest.

"It's frustrating, isn't it?" Y/n spoke the words hanging in the air, her voice barely a whisper.

"It's torture," he corrected her, his voice raw with emotion. "Seeing you with someone else..." He trailed off, leaving the sentence unfinished. The implication hanging heavy. Y/n felt his pain echo within her, a bittersweet recognition.

His eyes searched hers, a silent plea hanging between them. He wanted her, she knew that much. But the fear of disrupting their fragile equilibrium, of sacrificing their comfortable charade, held them both captive.

A wave of despair washed over Y/n. They were caught in a never-ending loop, dancing around their desires, afraid to take the leap.

"Then why do we keep doing this?" she whispered, her voice cracking. "Why do we keep pretending?"

He reached out, his thumb tenderly brushing at her hand.

"Because," he said, his voice barely above a murmur, "because even this… even this agonizing dance is better than not having you at all."

"Is it?" she questioned, the tears she had tried so fiercely to keep in finally spilling over. "Because all this yearning is slowly breaking me."

He flinched at her words, the pain in her eyes mirroring his own. They stood there, bathed in the city’s lights, the weight of unspoken desires and the reality of their relationship created a suffocating silence between them.

Finally, Y/n took a step back, pulling away from his touch. The physical distance mirroring the emotional chasm that seemed to be growing between them.

“I can keep you in the dark, Lewis. You deserve love. And I can’t give you that. Not right now” The look of raw vulnerability on his face tore at her heart, but she knew she was right. They couldn't keep living in this state of perpetual longing.

"Y/n, I’m not a child, I know what I’m getting myself into" he began, his voice laced with annoyance. But she held up a hand, silencing him.

"I need to go" she choked out, turning away from him before she crumbled completely.

Without another word, she walked back inside, the party lights blurring with the tears that she fought so valiantly to hold in.

Weeks later y/n found herself sneaking into a european f1 paddock late at night on a Friday.

The roar of the engine had long been replaced by the sterile hiss of the garages closing around them. It was a sound she would normally hate, a constant reminder of the world that made Lewis impossible to her.

But that night, it was a chilling and fitting melody to accompany the hollowness in her chest that threaded to swallow her.

They hadn't spoken in almost a month. Not since the party and since their talk, the one that shattered the fragile peace they'd managed to balance.

His silence was a language she knew all too well, a tapestry woven with disappointment and unspoken blame, his and hers.

She watched him from across the dimly lit garage, the harsh overhead lights glinting off at his temple. He looked beautiful, untouchable, a goddamn champion shrouded in the shadows.

It was a sight that would've probably lighten something in her, a reminder of why she kept coming back.

But tonight, all she felt was a cold dread.

"I need your help Lewis.” she whispered, the words a plea and a surrender all at once. The air hanging heavy, thick with the unspoken truth that both refused to accept it.

His eyes flickered to hers, surprise quickly replaced by a steely glint. He opened his mouth to retort, but the words died on his lips as she continued. “I need you to let me go”

Maybe he saw it too, the raw vulnerability etched on her face, the fear that threatened to consume her.

"Because honestly," she murmured, her voice barely above a choked sob, "I haven’t been able to do it on my own”

The words hung in the air, a desperate confession that shattered the carefully constructed walls around her heart. Lewis took a hesitant step towards her, his brow furrowed in confusion.

"Y/n?" His voice was rough, laced with something that sounded suspiciously like hope.

She shook her head, tears blurring her vision. "Nobody gets me like you" she choked out, the words echoing the hurt in the duty she felt to follow her better judgment instead of her heart.

It was a messy confession, a tangle of contradictions and unspoken desires. But in the quiet of the garage, under the harsh glare of the lights, it felt like the only truth that mattered.

Lewis closed the distance left between them, his arms enveloping her in a warmth that chased away the chill that had settled in her bones since that NYC night.

There were no answers, just the echo of a question hanging in the air, a question that they both knew neither had the answer to. But for those moments, in the fragile space between letting go and holding on, they hung to a sliver of solace, a flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, they could find a way out.

______________________________________________________________

TAGLIST - @saturnssunflower @xoscar03 @chocolatediplomatdreamerzonk @happy-golden-hour @vicurious28

@0710khj @thecubanator2 @neilakk @bigratbitchsworld @adriswrld

@fearfam69691 @cmleitora @goldenroutledge @timmychalametsstuff @jpgnsf @priopp123

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[hynzsn]

★ STRAWBERRY KISSES ★

☆ choi soobin x male reader

-> sunshine baker!soobin x grumpy (secretly soft) farmer!reader

꩜ .ᐟ fluff, multi chapter fic, ongoing

contents: loosely inspired by strawberry shortcake (tv show), alternate universe - modern setting, m/m, romance, slow burn, happy ending, confessions, mutual pining, opposites attract, small town setting, baking, food porn, strawberries, summer festival, jealousy, first kiss, feel-good story, sweet moments, shared kitchen shenanigans

a/n: chapter one is out!!

♡︎♡︎♡︎ likes, comments and reblogs are highly appreciated ♡︎♡︎♡︎

₊˚ ꒰ 𖦹﹕CHAPTER ONE: BERRY BEST BEGINNING ꒱ ˚₊

meet soobin, the sunshine baker known for his award-winning pastries and infectious laugh. his bakery, "crumbs & co.," is the heart of your small town, especially during the annual summer berry festival. but disaster strikes – he's out of strawberries, his star ingredient! enter you, the gruff but handsome owner of "sun-kissed berries," known for your organic, mouthwatering produce. soobin, desperate and flustered, begs you for help. you, initially hesitant due to the last-minute request and your own demanding schedule, is charmed by soobin’s passion and agrees to help, setting the stage for a week of unexpected collaboration.

₊˚ ꒰ 𖦹﹕CHAPTER TWO: FIELDS OF STRAWBERRY DREAMS ꒱ ˚₊

soobin is a fish out of water as you show him the ropes of berry farming. you navigate rows of vibrant strawberry plants, your banter a mix of teasing and genuine curiosity. soobin is captivated by your quiet confidence and connection to the land, while you find yourself drawn to soobin’s infectious enthusiasm and city-boy wonder. a playful competition erupts – who knows more about their respective crafts? the day ends with a shared picnic basket amidst the strawberry fields, a moment of quiet intimacy under the setting sun.

₊˚ ꒰ 𖦹﹕CHAPTER THREE: SPRINKLES OF AFFECTION & MIDNIGHT SUGAR ꒱ ˚₊

back in the cozy chaos of soobin’s bakery, the real magic begins. you experiment with new recipes, flour dusting their aprons and laughter filling the air. you discover a hidden talent for pastry-making, your hands surprisingly adept at delicate tasks. soobin is mesmerized by your focused intensity, your arms brushing as they work side-by-side. as midnight approaches, a moment of charged silence hangs between you, broken only by the soft whir of the oven and the unspoken longing in their eyes. a near kiss, a stolen touch of fingertips, leaves you both breathless and wanting more.

₊˚ ꒰ 𖦹﹕CHAPTER FOUR: BERRY FESTIVAL JITTERS & A PINCH OF SOUR GRAPES ꒱ ˚₊

the day of the summer berry festival dawns bright and bustling. soobin is a whirlwind of nervous energy, putting the finishing touches on his berry creations. you, despite your usual composure, finds yourself inexplicably drawn to soobin’s side, wanting to ease his anxiety and bask in his radiant energy. but your budding connection is threatened by the arrival of beomgyu, a charming, flirtatious artist who sets his sights on you, much to soobin’s dismay. as the festival begins, soobin grapples with a confusing mix of jealousy and self-doubt, unsure if his feelings for you are reciprocated.

₊˚ ꒰ 𖦹﹕CHAPTER FIVE: STRAWBERRY KISSES & A BERRY SWEET FOREVER ꒱ ˚₊

the festival is in full swing, a kaleidoscope of color, music, and the intoxicating aroma of baked goods. soobin’s strawberry creations are a hit, but his heart feels heavy with uncertainty. you, sensing soobin’s turmoil, finds a quiet moment amidst the crowd to confess your feelings. you gently take soobin’s hand, your fingers intertwining, and with a look that speaks volumes, leans in for a soft, sweet kiss that tastes of strawberries and promises. the chapter (and the story) ends with a final scene at the festival, the ferris wheel twinkling above you, your laughter mingling with the sounds of summer night, your love story as bright and hopeful as the stars overhead.

[musicforastylesrestaurant]

Harry on holiday with the fam and the bubba is being really ratty because he’s tired so harry decided to take him for a walk in his stroller to try and get him to fall asleep.

Tired Baby Styles.

my masterlist || ask me anything <3

my blurb masterlist is here!

authors note - long hair harry as a dad has me going feral, enjoy :)

word count - 1.5k

in which, you, harry and your one and a half year old son, elliott are holidaying in spain, where your little one won’t go down for his afternoon nap, so your boyfriend comes up with an idea to get him to doze off.

In the heart of a picturesque coastal paradise, the sun-drenched atmosphere of a perfect holiday unfurls. As you step into the scene, the gentle rustling of palm trees draws your attention skyward. Their emerald fronds dance in harmonious rhythm with the ocean breeze, casting dappled shadows on the poolside oasis below.

Beside the sparkling cerulean waters of the hotel swimming pool, a symphony of joyous laughter fills the air. A group of exuberant children, their faces adorned with gleeful smiles, leap into the cool embrace of the water, their splashes creating iridescent droplets that catch the sun's golden rays. Each joyful jump adds to the melody of excitement echoing across the pool area.

Lounge chairs adorned with vibrant towels are strategically arranged around the pool's periphery. Here, holidaymakers bask in the warmth of the sun's affectionate caress, their skin kissed by the sun's radiant glow. Their languid postures bear witness to the relaxation that accompanies these precious moments of reprieve from everyday life. Colorful parasols dot the scene, offering a sanctuary of shade to those seeking solace from the sun's fiery embrace.

As the sun's warm embrace envelops the scene, your heart flutters with a familiar sense of contentment. Beside you, your boyfriend of three years, Harry, lounges on a sun-bed, his magnetic presence amplified by the vibrant surroundings. His captivating gaze meets yours, the unspoken connection between you two as strong as ever.

Harry's trademark long hair is gathered into a casual man bun, showcasing the effortless elegance that has become synonymous with his style. The strands that escape the bun shimmer like spun gold, catching the sunlight in a breathtaking dance. His navy blue swim shorts perfectly complement the azure backdrop, a reflection of both the sea and the sky.

Tattoos, each one a piece of art etched onto his skin, paint a story of his journey and passions. The sun cream delicately applied on them accentuates their intricate designs, turning them into living masterpieces that glow beneath the sun's warm touch. The canvas of his skin becomes a testament to his individuality, every inked mark an expression of his creativity and authenticity.

As the gentle waves provide a soothing symphony, your fingers find their way to entwine with his, a familiar gesture of affection that needs no words. The world around you seems to fade, leaving only the two of you and the timeless tranquillity of this moment.

His eyes, a kaleidoscope of emotions, hold yours in a tender gaze that speaks volumes. It's in these quiet, unguarded moments that you're reminded of the depth of your connection, the bond that has grown stronger with each passing day.

As the tranquil embrace of the sun-soaked paradise continues, a sudden shift in the atmosphere ripples through the scene. The melodic lull of the waves falters, and the connection between you and Harry falters for a brief moment. The cause of this disruption is your one and a half year old son, Elliot, whose tired cries pierce through the serene ambiance.

The cries grow louder, and your attention is drawn away from the shared moment to the source of the distress. At the edge of the pool area, you spot Elliot, his tiny face flushed with frustration and exhaustion. The vibrant glow of his blue eyes, a mirror of your own, is marred by glistening tears, reflecting his fatigue and the frustration of a disrupted slumber.

With swift concern, Harry shifts his position on the sun-bed, his tattooed arms extending towards you as if to offer his support. Your fingers reluctantly disentangle from his, a reluctant separation born out of parental instinct. As you approach your distressed son, the cooling breeze seems to carry away the tranquillity that once enveloped the scene.

Bending down to scoop Elliot into your arms, you hold him close, his small frame trembling with fatigue. His sobs echo in your ears, a heartbreaking melody that resonates with the challenges of parenthood. Despite the picturesque surroundings, the most important moment right now is attending to the needs of your son, who has endured a restless night.

As Elliot's cries persist, a sense of helplessness begins to tug at your heart. Despite your best efforts, his sobs show no signs of abating. It's in this moment of shared concern that Harry's soothing presence becomes a lifeline.

With a tender understanding in his eyes, Harry suggests, "M’heart, why don't I take him f’a walk in his stroller? Maybe a change of scenery will help him settle, and y’could use some rest too, considering how the night went."

Touched by his thoughtfulness, you nod appreciatively, your weariness evident in your eyes. Gently handing over Elliot to Harry's awaiting arms, you feel the warmth of his embrace envelop your son. Elliot's cries seem to soften as he nestles against his father's chest, finding comfort in the familiar heartbeat that has always been a source of solace.

With a delicate touch, Harry secures Elliot into his stroller, his gentle hands fastening the buckles with practised ease. As he leans over, his soothing voice fills the air, "Alright, little buddy, we're going f’a walk. Let's see if we can calm down, yeah?"

Elliott's cries continue, a mixture of exhaustion and the desire to be held evident in every sob. The tiny hands that reach out towards Harry's face tug at his heartstrings, and he leans in to brush his lips against Elliott's forehead.

"I know, mate. I know. It's alright," he coos, his voice a soothing melody that dances in the air.

Harry's fingers linger for a moment on Elliott's cheek, a brief caress that conveys love and understanding. With one last reassuring glance, Harry begins to push the stroller, the wheels gliding smoothly along the path. "We're just going f’a little walk, Eli. You'll feel better soon, I promise."

However, the cries persist, growing louder in their protest. Elliott's eyes, pools of innocence and longing, search Harry's face as if pleading to be scooped up into his father's arms. Harry's brow furrows with concern, his heart aching at the sight of his son in distress.

"I know y’want to be held, buddy," he murmurs, his fingers gently brushing Elliott's cheek. "But sometimes a walk can help. You'll see."

Elliott's cries escalate, and Harry's resolve softens. With a tender sigh, he comes to a stop and kneels beside the stroller.

"Alright, alright," he concedes, his voice a mixture of love and amusement. "You win, pal. Y’can come into daddy’s arms."

As he carefully lifts Elliott from the stroller, the little one's sobs gradually subside into sniffles. The warmth of Harry's embrace, the steady rhythm of his heart, provides the comfort that Elliott had been seeking.

"There we go," Harry murmurs, his lips brushing against Elliott's fuzzy head. "Sometimes all y’need is a cuddle, huh?"

Elliott's fingers curl into the fabric of Harry's shirt, his cries softening into whimpers as he nuzzles against his father's chest. With a determined resolve, Harry straightens up and looks towards you, offering a reassuring smile. "I'll walk him until he falls asleep, then I'll bring him back. Don't worry, m’love."

As they slowly move away from the poolside

With Elliott nestled in his arms, Harry's touch is a gentle and soothing presence against the little one's back. The rhythmic motion of his hand, moving up and down in a comforting caress, matches the cadence of his footsteps as he begins to walk around the hotel. The atmosphere in the reception area is hushed, a backdrop of understated luxury that contrasts with the earlier scene by the pool.

As they traverse the hotel's elegant corridors, Harry's soft voice hums a tune that's both tender and familiar. The reception staff offer knowing smiles, a nod to the shared experiences of parenthood. Harry's strides are purposeful yet gentle, a dance of patience and care as he navigates each turn and hallway, his focus solely on the slumbering bundle in his arms.

Passing by the tennis courts, the sound of a playful match echoes in the distance. The rhythmic thud of balls and the occasional laughter form a comforting symphony that blends seamlessly with the ambiance of the moment. Harry's gaze shifts briefly, his eyes catching the lively scene before he returns his attention to Elliott.

As they continue their journey, the soft glow of the indoor bar beckons like a haven. The polished wooden floors beneath their feet create a muted melody, the rhythmic tapping of Harry's steps a quiet rhythm that harmonises with the calm of the evening. It's here, surrounded by the ambient light and the low murmur of conversations, that Elliott's eyelids begin to droop.

As they step into the bar, the air carries the scent of aged wood and the promise of relaxation. Harry's hand continues its soothing motion, now softer and slower, his voice a tender whisper.

"Almost there, little mate," he murmurs, his eyes fixed on the peaceful expression that gradually settles on Elliott's face.

In the dim light, they find a quiet corner, a shelter within the embrace of the hotel's interior. Harry eases himself into a plush armchair, still cradling Elliott against his chest. The vibrations of his voice hum against Elliott's ear, a lullaby of security and warmth. And then, as if the journey had been leading to this moment, Elliott's eyes flutter closed.

A tranquil sigh escapes Harry's lips, a mixture of relief and tenderness. He gazes down at his peacefully slumbering son, a soft smile gracing his features.

"Sleep tight, little man," he whispers, his hand gently cupping the back of Elliott's head.

[mercurianchild]

Venus in the 11th house

🦋Venus in the 11th House:

Love flourishes in the garden of friendship🦋

Nestled within the realms of human connection, Venus finds her haven in the 11th house, where bonds are forged amidst the laughter and shared dreams of kindred spirits. Here, love isn't confined to candlelit dinners or stolen glances; it blossoms in the vibrant tapestry of friendship.

Imagine a gathering of souls, each unique in their essence yet bound together by a thread of mutual understanding and affection. In this space, Venus, the celestial muse of love and beauty, sprinkles her enchantment, weaving tales of camaraderie and shared joy. Within the walls of the 11th house, relationships take on a kaleidoscope of colors, painted with the strokes of shared interests and a genuine appreciation for each other's quirks. Here, friends become family, and the boundaries between platonic and romantic blur into a beautiful mosaic of affection and admiration.

With Venus in the 11th house, the heart finds solace in the company of kindred spirits, drawn together by a magnetic force that transcends mere companionship. Social circles become sanctuaries, where love flows freely, unbound by societal norms or expectations. Yet, amidst the warmth of friendship, Venus also teaches the delicate dance of balance and harmony. She reminds us that true love celebrates the individuality and autonomy of each person within the group dynamic, fostering an environment where everyone feels seen and cherished.

In the realm of the 11th house, Venus invites us to embrace the beauty of collective joy and shared experiences, where every smile and shared moment becomes a testament to the boundless capacity of the human heart.

So, let us raise our glasses to Venus in the 11th house, where love flourishes in the garden of friendship, nurtured by the gentle breeze of connection and the radiant warmth of camaraderie.

[lov3jimin]

paige and reader on vacation together

Paige x Reader

Paige and reader on vacation

Paige Bueckers, renowned for her prowess on the basketball court, decided it was time for a break. With her girlfriend, Y/N, by her side, they embarked on an adventure to the idyllic paradise of Bora Bora.

Their bungalow perched over the clear, turquoise waters, offering a panoramic view of the surrounding beauty. From the moment they arrived, Paige and Y/N were enamored by the serene atmosphere and the warmth of the Tahitian sun.

Days melted away as they indulged in the luxury of relaxation. They lounged on hammocks suspended over the water, sipped refreshing cocktails on the beach, and reveled in each other's company.

One afternoon, they embarked on a snorkeling excursion, gliding hand in hand through the vibrant coral reefs, marveling at the kaleidoscope of marine life beneath them. Paige couldn't help but be captivated by the wonder of the ocean, but even more so by the radiant smile on Y/N's face.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a golden glow across the sky, Paige and Y/N shared a private dinner on the beach. With the sound of gentle waves as their soundtrack, they toasted to love, adventure, and the beauty of their connection.

Bora Bora became more than just a destination; it was a sanctuary where Paige and Y/N discovered a deeper bond and celebrated their love amidst the breathtaking backdrop of paradise. And as they watched the stars twinkle above, they knew that this was just the beginning of their extraordinary journey together.

Thank you for the requesttt🩷✌🏾⭐️

[baelabong]

Te Amo

Pairing: Sana x fem! Reader

Synopsis: Literally just Rihanna’s song “Te Amo”

Warnings: sana being hot asf

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The club was alive with music and light, pulsating with an energy that felt almost tangible.

The bass thumped through the floor, reverberating through Y/N's body as she stood at the bar, nursing a cocktail. The air was thick with the scent of perfume and sweat, mingling with the sharp tang of alcohol.

Her eyes scanned the crowd, a sea of bodies moving in unison, lost in the music.Across the room, Y/N saw her. Their eyes met, and for a moment, the world seemed to narrow to just the two of them.

Sana was breathtaking, her beauty illuminated by the strobe lights that danced across her features. Y/N's heart raced as Sana began to weave her way through the crowd, her movements graceful and deliberate.

Sana reached Y/N and flashed a smile that sent a shiver down her spine.

"Dance with me," she said, her voice a soft purr that cut through the noise of the club.

Y/N hesitated, a blush creeping up her cheeks.

“I'm not sure," ," she began, but Sana took her hand, her touch warm and reassuring.

"Trust me," Sana whispered, leading her onto the dance floor.

The crowd seemed to part for them, the music growing louder, more insistent. Y/N felt her body start to move with the rhythm, guided by Sana's confident touch.

Sana's hands slid down Y/N's arms, wrapping around her waist as she pulled her close. Their bodies pressed together, moving as one to the beat of the music.

Y/N felt a thrill of excitement, her initial uncertainty melting away under Sana's gaze.

As the song shifted to a slower, more sensual rhythm, Sana leaned in, her breath hot against Y/N's ear. "Te amo," she murmured, the words sending a jolt of electricity through Y/N's body.

Y/N's breath hitched, her mind racing.

She had never felt this way before, her emotions a whirlwind of confusion and desire.

"Sana, l.." she began, but the words died on her lips as Sana's hand cupped her cheek, tilting her head up to meet her gaze.

"Shh," Sana whispered, her lips hovering just inches from Y/N's. "Let yourself feel it."

The world seemed to tade away as Sana closed the distance between them, her lips brushing against Y/N's in a kiss that was both tender and hungry. Y/N's hands found their way to Sana's shoulders, pulling her closer as she surrendered to the moment.

The music swelled around them, the lights a kaleidoscope of colors that blurred at the edges of Y/N's vision. She could feel Sana's heartbeat against her own, their bodies moving in perfect harmony.

As the song drew to a close, Sana pulled back slightly, her eyes searching Y/N's. "Te amo," she repeated, her voice barely a whisper.

Y/N's heart swelled with emotion, a smile tugging at her lips. "Te amo," she echoed, her voice filled with a newfound certainty.

Sana's smile was radiant, her eyes sparkling with joy.

"Come with me," she said, taking Y/N's hand once more.

Y/N nodded, feeling a sense of exhilaration as they left the dance floor, their hands intertwined.

[starlightvivi]

HOW IT STARTED

König x Reader

________________________________________

Note: this story contains romantic themes and fluffiness

A/N: bruh this is my first time writing a story please do mention how is it, I mentioned whatever I feel like in Note, 😭 and English is not my first language, but I had the urge to write 😭, and do tell me if I try something new or write more parts of it and hope you guys like it ✌️ and stay safe guys

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It all began when you joined Kortac base, assigned to work there. Known for your thoughtfulness, compassion, and kindness, everyone admired you, including the Colonel who found you both proficient and charismatic. Despite meeting everyone in the base, an encounter with the Colonel remained elusive, creating an air of curiosity about the man who is a tall, massive figure behind the mask he wore.

The Colonel had silently admired your warmth since your arrival. Admiring from a distance, he yearned to initiate a conversation but found anxiety to be a formidable adversary. Each attempt felt like a delicate dance between desire and hesitation. In the bustling cafeteria, he finally thought to talk to you.

"Umm, hi there. Is this seat taken?"

The Colonel, surprised, nodded, inviting you to join him.

He had been quietly captivated by your warmth since your arrival. Admiring you from afar, he longed for conversation, but anxiety proved formidable. he finally found the courage.

"Not at all, have a seat. I hope the cafeteria chaos isn't too overwhelming for a newcomer like yourself."

"It's a bit lively, but I'm getting used to it. Mind if I join you?"

"Not at all, Sergeant. It's nice to have some company. I find these moments in the midst of chaos quite refreshing," he finally found some courage and replied.

"It's y/n," she said with a beaming smile on her face, relieved by his welcoming demeanor.

He nodded.

She gazed at him with eyes akin to big, lustrous blackberries, a radiant smile illuminating her face as she patiently awaited his introduction.

He stared for a moment and responded, "König."

"I see, King, huh!" She replied with a warm smile.

He responded with a nod, his gaze momentarily finding refuge on the tabletop. A shy warmth colored his cheeks, a subtle crimson betraying unspoken emotions beneath the surface.

"I noticed you seemed deep in thought. Everything alright, sir?"

He lifted his head, and his eyes, a mesmerizing fusion of cerulean blue and emerald green, held a captivating depth. Long, graceful lashes framed these kaleidoscopic orbs, casting delicate shadows that accentuated the enchanting hues, making his gaze an ethereal spectacle, and she felt she could get lost in them forever.

"Oh, just lost in my own musings. It happens more often than I care to admit. How are you finding your first days here?"

"It's been a mix of excitement and nerves, sir. But everyone's been friendly, especially considering the ranks," you replied as you got back to reality.

"Glad to hear that. It's a good team here. Anything specific on your mind, or just taking in the cafeteria spectacle?"

"Well, sir, besides navigating the military maze, I was also wondering if a seasoned officer like yourself has any tips on how to make the best impression." She said, a mischievous twinkle in her eye.

König, catching her playful tone, chuckled.

"Ah, making impressions. A classic challenge. Just be yourself, Sergeant. Authenticity goes a long way."

Y/n leaned in with a smirk. "But what if being myself includes a touch of charm and a killer smile?"

König, caught off guard, blushed slightly.

"Well, in that case, I suppose you'll be making quite an impression, won't you?"

Their banter continued, infused with playful teasing, creating an atmosphere of camaraderie and laughter. The cafeteria chaos faded into the background as they enjoyed each other's company.

And that's how the story began.

[kingofbodyrolls]

Sprout | knj | one

| s.masterlist | m.masterlist |  next →

Summary: You love your plants, you love your garden, you do not love your new neighbor. You hate him with all your might— he wrecks everything you hold dear so you do the only reasonable thing: retaliate. 

Pairing: Namjoon x female reader 

AUs: neighbors au, gardening au, non!idol au → strangers to enemies (mostly one sided) to friends to lovers 

Genres: slice of life, smut, humor

Rating: mature

Word count: 3.7K

Warnings: Reader is morally grey; she’s being petty and bratty. There’s some immature pranks and vandalism. Yeah, she’s on a warpath. Otherwise this chapter is pretty tame 😛

Disclaimer: I do not own BTS or know them personally and this work of fiction is purely fictional and for entertainment purposes only. The actions and personalities described in the story do not reflect those of BTS— it’s just fiction. Also, if you would kindly read the tags/warnings before reading, that would be lovely: and if you don’t like whatever is described in the tags, just hit return and find something else to read. Thank you 🌸

Author’s note(1): this ended up being a mini series! After I wrote Friendcation I really wanted to write something shorter… So here it is! I really hope you like it 💜

Taglist: @svnbangtansworld

It’s been cross posted to AO3 if you prefer to read there 🙂

Your heart thrives in the lush embrace of your garden, where your love for nurturing life transcends the ordinary. 

It's not merely about gardening; it's an intimate rendezvous with nature's heartbeat. The simple act of plunging your hands into the soil becomes a euphoric ritual, a tactile communion that not only exhilarates your senses but also serves as a conduit to a world where each seed, leaf, and root tells a captivating story of growth and vitality. 

The intimate dance with the earth, the sheer joy that courses through you as you feel the soil's gritty embrace, transcends mere gardening; it's a symphony of life, a celebration of your role as both creator and nurturer.

Cultivating new life from the humble seed is a profound joy that resonates deeply within you. The enchantment unfolds as you witness the delicate emergence of sprouts, each one a testament to the potential contained within a tiny seed. 

It's a captivating journey, from the tentative first leaves unfurling to the triumphant bloom of fruits and vegetables, a tangible manifestation of the joy and sustenance your hands have meticulously cultivated for both you and your roommate to savor.

As the radiant embrace of summer envelops your world, an effusion of life bursts forth, a vibrant bloom unfurling its tendrils both in your garden and within the sanctuary of your greenhouse.

The greenhouse burgeons with a dazzling array of life—a cornucopia of tomatoes, watermelons, peppers, and cucumbers that stretches every inch of its confines. The air is thick with the heady scent of ripening fruit, and the vibrant hues of red, green, and orange create a kaleidoscopic mosaic that beckons exploration.

In your garden, three majestic raised beds stand like regal sentinels, cradling a treasure trove of nature's bounty. Within their elevated embrace, a symphony of flavors and colors converges, boasting a diverse ensemble that includes the earthy allure of onions, the crisp sweetness of carrots, the robust presence of pumpkins, the delicate charm of strawberries, the verdant allure of spinach, and an array of captivating salads. 

Each bed is a symphony of flavors and textures, a carefully orchestrated composition that invites both the eye and the palate to revel in the diverse tapestry of life thriving under your attentive care.

Your garden isn't just a source of pride; it's a living masterpiece, a testament to your dedication and nurturing touch. This verdant haven, bathed in the hues of your hard work, transcends mere admiration; it's your sanctuary, a sacred retreat where the stresses of the world dissolve. 

Each leaf, every bloom, whispers tales of resilience and growth, creating an intimate haven where you find solace and restoration.

In the embrace of nature's symphony, your garden becomes more than soil and seeds—it's a living, breathing refuge, a space where you not only cultivate plants but also cultivate peace and tranquility for your soul to flourish.

Within the heart of your greenhouse, nestled amidst the thriving foliage, is a cozy sanctuary—an inviting lounge set with a round table and two chairs. This intimate corner is not just a seating arrangement; it's a haven where friendship blossoms. Here, you and your friends can unwind, enveloped by the lush greenery, engaging in heartfelt conversations over steaming cups of tea or coffee. 

In the heart of your greenhouse, you stand amidst the verdant symphony, hands adorned with the earth's rich embrace—fertile soil clinging to your fingertips, a testament to the alchemy of growth you orchestrate. Here, amidst the fragrant dance of botanical life, you sow the promise of winter greenery. This isn't your inaugural venture into nurturing winter blooms; it's a sequel to a tale that unfolded with delight last year. 

The memory of vibrant winter greens thriving under your care lingers, a testament to the harmony you crafted within these walls. Driven by the echo of past success and an insatiable love for the seasonal metamorphosis, you embark on this green journey once more.

Within the expansive embrace of your bountiful garden, nature's generosity unfolds, providing an abundant harvest of fruits and vegetables that not only sustains you and your roommate but also extends its benevolent reach to your cherished neighbors.

Which makes you think of the dear Kims—Kim Seokjin and his wife—embarking on a journey to a larger home, carving out space for their expanding family, tugs at the strings of your heart. While you understand the practicality of their move, a somber melancholy settles within you, for they have not just been neighbors; they have been the epitome of kindness and warmth. 

With an earnest yearning, you cling to the hope that your incoming neighbor will show kindness, sweetness, and warmth akin to the cherished friendship you shared with the departing Kims.

He doesn’t.

The day has arrived when your neighbor, Seokjin, faces the bittersweet necessity of moving. The street is lined with colossal trucks, a tangible representation of the imminent change. As tears trace their silent path down your cheeks, you refuse to let the sorrow eclipse the spirit of friendship. 

Despite the weight of emotions, you join forces with Jungkook, your steadfast roommate, to transform the process into a collective effort. Together, you navigate the labyrinth of memories, carrying not just boxes but the shared history of laughter, shared moments, and the neighborly bonds that have woven through the fabric of your days. 

As the reality of parting sets in, the ache of missing Seokjin and his pregnant wife becomes a weight on your heart. Determined to express the depth of your sentiment, you envelop them in tight, lingering hugs, the warmth of your embrace carrying unspoken words of friendship and well-wishes. Amidst the bittersweet farewells, you articulate your genuine hopes for their future, weaving a promise of staying connected. With each heartfelt word, you convey that the physical distance won't sever the ties of friendship.

In a world where genuine connections with neighbors are as rare as finding hidden gems, you've recognized the preciousness of Seokjin and his wife. Their sweetness and kindness have forged a bond that transcends the typical neighborly exchanges. Their generosity extends beyond mere pleasantries—during a challenging chapter in your life, when the looming shadows of unemployment threatened your stability, it was their unwavering support that illuminated your path. 

Together, you navigated the uncertainty, and Seokjin suggested his friend Jungkook as a roommate to help you financially, and Jungkook has since become an integral part of your life as a steadfast and cherished roommate.

Undoubtedly, the Kims have not just been neighbors but pillars of unwavering support and kindness, surpassing any expectations one might have for ideal neighbors. 

In the wake of the Kims' departure, their once-vibrant house now stands silent, a poignant reminder of the cherished moments shared. However, your curiosity, like an invisible magnet, draws you to the window. From your vantage point, you observe with a mix of intrigue and anticipation as a moving truck sidles up next to their now-empty abode. You almost feel like a creep as you watch them unload furniture and boxes.

Whispers in the neighborhood had reached your ears—an intriguing coincidence as a man, bearing the surname 'Kim,' was poised to become your new neighbor. The town's gossip mill hummed with speculation, but you tuned out the rest, your focus fixated on the serendipitous arrival of this mysterious Kim.

Jungkook ambles over, his sudden presence jolting you against the window, prompting an involuntary jump. With a teasing grin, he questions your clandestine observation, his laughter echoing through the room. “Why are you lurking?” he jests, enjoying the playful spectacle of your eye roll in response. 

“I’m observing.” You declare with matter-of-fact precision, and in response, Jungkook simply offers a contemplative ‘hm.’

Throughout the day, the elusive presence of the new neighbor has been a captivating enigma, a puzzle you've been diligently attempting to unravel. Despite your earnest efforts, the quest for a mere glimpse has proven elusive.

“I'm just curious to get a read on the new guy,” you confess, drawing out your words with a touch of playful mystery. As you gracefully step away from the window, the allure of the unknown lingering in the air, you head into the kitchen with purpose.

You fetch the kettle and begin to boil some water for tea.

“Just give the guy some space to settle in, and when the time is right, you can whip up those mouthwatering cookies of yours and give him a warm welcome to the neighborhood,” Jungkook suggests, trailing after you into the kitchen. He deftly retrieves two mugs from the overhead cabinets, placing them in anticipation of the soon-to-be-boiling kettle.

Rummaging through the tea stash, you unearth aromatic sachets—one for yourself and another for Jungkook—and delicately place them into the waiting mugs. As the kettle sings its final crescendo, you pour the steaming water into the mugs, initiating the alchemical process that transforms the humble leaves into an elixir of warmth.

The synchronicity between you and Jungkook is seamless, a finely tuned rhythm born out of the years you've spent living together. Perhaps it's the invisible thread of familiarity that binds you, a connection so deep that you can effortlessly complete each other's sentences, the unspoken language of friendship. He’s much more than a roommate; you love him like a brother, an annoying little brother, even though you’re the same age.

“Good idea! The legendary triple chocolate cookies?” you propose, your eyes lighting up with the prospect of sweet indulgence. Holding your tea mug, you savor the warmth of the liquid against your lips, a comforting ritual that transcends seasons—you're an unapologetic tea enthusiast, even in the heat of summer. 

“Absolutely! Hell yeah!” Jungkook exclaims, his enthusiasm echoing through the room like a burst of unbridled joy. As he eagerly recalls the memory of the last batch you made, his words become a vivid homage to the culinary masterpiece, the taste still lingering on his tongue like a cherished melody. 

Throughout the entire weekend, the symphony of your new neighbor's move has reverberated, a lively crescendo of sound that paints the air with the vibrant hues of laughter and camaraderie. His entourage of friends, a boisterous ensemble, fills the atmosphere with the clatter of unloading boxes and the rhythmic shuffle of furniture being transported from the truck. 

Yet, despite the lively spectacle of your new neighbor's move, his actual presence remains an elusive mystery. The air is thick with anticipation as questions swirl within your mind: Is he old? Is he your age? Does he possess the warmth and kindness that endeared Seokjin and his wife to your heart? Your curiosity becomes a cascade of inquiries, a mental carousel that you acknowledge is just you being noisy.

Up to this point, the sole revelation about your new neighbor is his knack for creating quite the noise. The symphony of sounds, though vibrant in its own way, becomes a stark contrast to the familiar warmth and silence that once emanated from Seokjin and his wife's abode. 

Damn you miss Seokjin and his wife.

While the awareness of ongoing move-in activities tempers your expectations for noise, an unexplainable discomfort begins to settle in. The amalgamation of unfamiliar sounds, even in the midst of anticipated relocation clamor, manages to irk you. 

And you haven’t even met the guy yet.

Several days have elapsed, it appeared that your new neighbor had completed the arduous task of settling in. A glimmer of hope fluttered, suggesting that the relentless clamor would finally recede. Yet, to your dismay, a new auditory storm emerged—his penchant for playing music at an astonishing volume became the unforeseen soundtrack to your days. 

“I already hate him, Guk,” you declare with a melodramatic sulk, dramatically flopping down onto the couch beside Jungkook.

He swivels his head in your direction, a mischievous smile playing on his lips before erupting into a hearty laugh. “Come on, it’s just music. How bad can it get?”

After a patient wait, the oven radiates a palpable heat, reaching the optimal temperature to host the transformation of dough into decadence. With a sense of anticipation, you carefully place the trays laden with the promise of triple chocolate cookies into the fiery embrace of the oven. 

Despite the less-than-ideal introduction to your new neighbor, marred by his thunderous music and a symphony of questionable sounds that you'd rather not contemplate—, there's a resolute yearning within you to extend an olive branch. 

Fueled by the desire for neighborly harmony, you're determined to overcome the initial discord and approach him with a peace offering, a genuine gesture to welcome him into the neighborhood, hoping to mend the dissonant notes that currently define your thoughts about him.

Just as the first tray of cookies begins its enchanting transformation in the oven, your ‘girl boss’ playlist providing a lively backdrop, the symphony is abruptly punctuated by the unmistakable sound of shattering glass echoing from outside. 

A sudden chill races down your spine, the shivers intensified by the ominous realization that the shattering sound emanates from the vicinity of your garden. Locking eyes with Jungkook, a silent exchange of concern, you swiftly transition from baking bliss to a sprinting guardian of your sanctuary. 

The urgency in your steps amplifies the suspense, as you dash outside, propelled by a blend of curiosity and trepidation, determined to unveil the source of the disruptive crash that disrupted the tranquil rhythm of your day.

Shards of glass glisten like misplaced stars in the grass, guiding your gaze to a seemingly innocent purple ball. However, your eyes transform into metaphorical daggers as they lock onto the source of the havoc, revealing a telltale hole in the once-pristine surface of your beloved greenhouse. 

A surge of anger courses through your veins, a visceral reaction to the shattered tranquility mirrored in the glass strewn across the grass. While distant voices from your neighbor try to penetrate your consciousness, your focus remains ensnared by the chaos within the greenhouse—the fractured plants and the disarrayed remnants of what was once a sanctuary. 

Navigating the shards with cautious steps, you venture into the greenhouse, the air heavy with a sense of apprehension and loss. As you survey the wreckage, the toll becomes painfully clear—fragments of tomatoes, cucumbers, and watermelons lay strewn, their promise of abundance now reduced to a heartbreaking scene of destruction.

An inferno of rage surges through your veins, akin to liquid fire or molten lava, an elemental force consuming reason and calm. The greenhouse, once a sanctuary, now stands as a testament to the havoc wrought—its structural integrity compromised, and the once-vibrant plants broken and battered. 

Your gaze fixes on the offending purple ball, and in a sudden revelation, the realization lands like a forceful blow—it's a sinister gift from your new neighbor. A surge of fury engulfs you, a tempest that ignites within, transforming your blood into a boiling cauldron of rage until the world before your eyes is tainted with a visceral shade of red. 

Driven by an uncontrollable wave of anger, you storm outside, seizing the ominous purple ball with a fierce determination. Each step to your new neighbor is punctuated by the rhythmic thud of your stampede, a declaration of intent that resonates with your frustration.

Amidst the clash of emotions, a figure emerges—a man with disheveled silver hair hurtling toward you, hands raised in a gesture of surrender, a young child at his side. 

The ball gripped tightly in your hand becomes both a weapon and a question mark as you confront the silver-haired man. The fury in your voice is palpable, a tempest churning within each word as you demand answers. “What is this?” you seethe, elevating the purple sphere as a visual indictment, challenging him to reckon with the consequences of his actions. 

“A ball?” he responds with a nervous chuckle, his hand seeking solace through the disheveled landscape of silver hair at the back of his head. Beside him, a little boy, no older than six, clings to his leg with a grip that speaks of both innocence and trepidation. 

“You think you’re smart, huh?” you begin, the words laden with a potent mix of frustration and mounting anger. The simmering emotions rise like a tide within you, unleashing a renewed flood of resentment that threatens to engulf your entire being.

“I'm so sorry about the ball. We didn't mean to throw it over the fence—” the man starts to apologize, but your tolerance for explanations dwindles to nothing. You cut him off with an air of absolute dismissal, leaving no room for excuses or justifications.

“You shattered my greenhouse!” you roar in frustration, the anger propelling the ball from your hand towards him. In a deft move, he catches it effortlessly against his chest, the tension in the air palpable.

“I'm so sorry, I didn't mea—” he begins, but you cut through his attempt to explain with a dismissive wave.

“I don't care! You should be mindful of other people's property. I had plants in there that are now broken and useless,” you declare, your voice stern and scolding. The words emerge like a verbal reprimand, each syllable charged with the weight of your anger. As you speak, the intensity manifests physically, your breaths becoming huffs of air, mirroring the turbulent emotions that still churn within you. 

You observe the man's persistent attempts at apology, and the child clings even tighter to his sturdy thigh, as if seeking refuge in the face of the storm brewing in front of him.

“Fuck you. Don't let it happen again,” you spit, the words laden with an unrelenting edge. You observe him swiftly cover the child's ears, shielding innocence from the raw exchange. Just as you pivot to leave, a tense silence lingering, he finds his voice once more. 

Observing him withdraw his hands from the child's ears, he takes a measured step in your direction. “Look, lady,” he begins, his tone a blend of frustration and assertion, “I already apologized. There's no reason to be so crude, especially not in front of a kid.”

Your gaze swiftly traverses them from head to toe, a brusque assessment. “Like I give a shit,” you retort with a dismissive snort.

“Joon, why is the lady mad?” inquires the boy, casting a curious glance at your neighbor. 

“Well, we ruined her greenhouse, which we've already apologized for. Now I'm starting to think she's just stuck up and has a stick up her ass,” your neighbor explains in a composed tone to the child, who simply gapes at the blunt choice of words.

The audacity of his words hits you like an unexpected blow. Stuck up? The incredulity courses through you as you grapple with the absurdity of the accusation. Him, the one who shattered your pride and joy, casting you as the haughty one?

“Well, fuck you!” you scream in frustration, punctuating the sentiment with a defiant middle finger. With a final act of rebellion, you storm away, retreating back into your house, your fury a palpable force propelling your every step. 

Gasping for breath, you stumble inside, a disheveled embodiment of raw emotion. Jungkook gazes at you, confusion etched on his face as he questions, “What happened?”

In a huff, you explain, “Piece of shit neighbor broke my greenhouse,” the words tumble out, each syllable a testament to the frustration gripping you. With a perfunctory motion, you snatch the tray from Jungkook, who had kindly retrieved it from the oven when the cookies were ready. 

Now, the sweet aroma of accomplishment is tainted, and the once-desired treats feel like a bitter offering. You contemplate discarding them, convinced your neighbor doesn't deserve the indulgence born from your hard work and nurturing care.

“What are you doing?” Jungkook queries with genuine concern, his worry palpable in the furrow of his brows and the earnest tone of his voice. Clutching the tray, you navigate towards the trash can, your actions leaving an air of uncertainty hanging between you two.

“Throwing them out?” you retort, the words a sharp echo in the air as you lock eyes with Jungkook. 

“Don't! I'll eat them,” Jungkook pleads, motioning for you to spare the tray from its impending fate in the trash. 

A flicker of reluctance dances in your eyes, but the prospect of salvaging the cookies prevails. After all, it would be a shame to let them go to waste merely because your neighbor is a piece of shit

Despite Jungkook's plea for you to set aside your fury and accept the apology from your new neighbor, the ember of resentment within you refuses to be extinguished. 

For reasons unknown, a bitter taste lingers within you, refusing to let go. The turmoil is inexplicable, but the remnants of resentment persist. He didn't just break your greenhouse; he shattered a piece of your sanctuary. Now, held together with a temporary tapestry of plastic, the wounded structure serves as a constant reminder, a tangible testament to the disruption that's not easily brushed aside.

Not to mention the plants that withered away that fateful day. Yes, they perished under the weight of the intrusion, and no, you refuse to consider it as mere drama, as Jungkook suggested. 

Anger bubbles within you, a volatile force demanding retribution. In the crucible of resentment, a calculated decision takes root: to do the only thing that feels just—sabotage some of his. An eye for an eye, the ancient adage whispers in your mind.

Thus, you find yourself meticulously gluing his mailbox together, rendering it an inoperable shell that denies him the simple act of receiving mail or opening the damn thing! 

A sense of self-satisfaction courses through you as you observe him from the vantage point of your living room window, wrestling with his unyielding mailbox, frustration etched across his face. 

A laugh of vindication escapes your lips as you revel in his futile struggle. His bewildered gaze sweeps the surroundings, a clear sign that he fails to comprehend what's wrong with his once-functional mailbox. Frustration etches lines on his face before he concedes, retreating back into the confines of his home. 

Jungkook sidles up next to you, a quizzical expression on his face. “Is that your handiwork?” he inquires, pointing towards your neighbor's now dysfunctional mailbox. 

A chuckle escapes your lips, a mischievous glint in your eyes. “Yeah.”

“You're being childish and mean,” he reproaches, shaking his head in disapproval of your actions. A chuckle escapes him, a teasing glint in his eyes. “I bet you like him,” he remarks with a knowing smile, strolling past you. 

You gape at him, disbelief etched across your face. No. No such thing. “I fucking hate him, and he deserves it,” you retort vehemently, the raw intensity in your voice emphasizing the depth of your disdain. 

Author’s note(2): Thank you so much for reading! 🌸 I appreciate every like, comment and reblog, and please don’t be afraid to let me know what you think;  your kind words makes me extremely happy 💜

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[princesscatherinemiddleton]

she is the sun the moon and the stars above she is heavenly light and radiant love she is the mysterious abyss a nebulous dream she is kaleidoscope and evergreen | a midsummer night's dream

[deekaye]

As you stood there, watching the sunset on the eve of your 20th birthday, a whirlwind of emotions swirled within you. The vibrant hues of orange and pink painted the sky, casting a mesmerizing glow over the world around you. It was a moment of transition, bidding farewell to the carefree days of your teens and embracing the uncertainties of adulthood.

"Hey, you okay?"

The voice pulled you out of your reverie, and you turned to see Dokyeom, your brother's best friend, standing beside you. His presence brought a sense of comfort, a familiar warmth that eased the turmoil in your heart.

You nodded, offering him a faint smile before turning your gaze back to the setting sun. The world seemed to slow down, time stretching out into an infinite moment of fleeting beauty.

Dokyeom's hand gently tousled your hair, a playful gesture that made your heart flutter. Despite the years that had passed, he still treated you with the same affection as when you were a child. But deep down, you yearned for something more.

"Let's continue the celebration downstairs. Your mother is looking for you," he suggested, his smile radiant in the fading light.

You nodded, following him as you descended the stairs together. The air was filled with laughter and chatter, the sound of joyous celebration echoing through the halls. But amidst the revelry, your mind lingered on a promise made long ago.

"Oppa," you called out softly, the endearment slipping from your lips almost instinctively.

Dokyeom turned to you, his gaze filled with warmth and curiosity. There was an unspoken bond between you, a connection that transcended mere friendship.

"I'm 20 now," you declared, a hint of determination in your voice.

His smile widened, a twinkle of pride in his eyes. "Yes, you are already a grown-up. Time really flies so fast. Our baby is now a fine lady. But don't worry, you will always be our flower."

His words touched your heart, but beneath the surface, a longing stirred within you. You wanted him to see you not just as a sister, but as something more.

"Do you remember the promise I made to you when I was 6 and you were 10?" you asked, a hint of mischief dancing in your eyes.

Confusion flickered across Dokyeom's face as he tried to recall the memory. But before he could respond, you took a bold step forward, closing the distance between you.

With a playful smile, you tiptoed and pressed a tender kiss to his cheek, the soft brush of your lips leaving him stunned. It was a fleeting moment, but in that brief touch, a lifetime of emotions was conveyed.

As you pulled away, a rush of adrenaline surged through you, and you fled the room, leaving Dokyeom standing there, bewildered yet strangely exhilarated.

In the quiet of the hallway, memories flooded his mind, a kaleidoscope of moments shared between you. And amidst the chaos of his thoughts, one promise echoed louder than the rest.

"When I turn adult, let's get married."

A smile tugged at Dokyeom's lips as he remembered the innocence of your childhood vow. It was a dream whispered in secret, a wish born from the depths of your heart.

With a newfound resolve, he followed you downstairs, the echo of your laughter guiding him forward. And as you rejoined the celebration, you shared a knowing glance, a silent acknowledgment of the bond that bound you together.

In that moment, amidst the laughter and the music, you knew that your story was just beginning, a tale of love and destiny waiting to unfold.

[gigireece16]

collection of words for writing ✧.*

part one

1. apocryphal: of doubtful authenticity, although widely circulated as being true.

2. bibelot: a small, decorative ornament or trinket.

3. cicatrix: the scar of a healed wound.

4. desideratum: something that is needed or wanted.

5. ebullition: a sudden outburst of emotion or violence.

6. fugacious: fleeting, lasting a very short time.

7. glaucous: having a pale bluish-gray or green color.

8. hebetude: the state of being dull or lethargic.

9. iridescent: showing luminous colors that seem to change when seen from different angles.

10. jocund: cheerful and lighthearted.

11. kaleidoscopic: having complex patterns of colors; multicolored.

12. lethologica: the inability to remember a particular word or name.

13. myrmidon: a loyal follower, especially one who executes orders unquestioningly.

14. noctilucent: shining or glowing in the dark.

15. opsimath: a person who begins to learn or study late in life.

16. peregrination: a long journey or period of wandering.

17. quiddity: the inherent nature or essence of someone or something.

18. rugose: wrinkled or corrugated.

19. susurrus: whispering, murmuring, or rustling sound.

20. tenebrous: dark; shadowy or obscure.

21. umbra: the darkest part of a shadow.

22. viridescent: greenish or becoming green.

23. welter: a large number of items in no order; a confused mass.

24. xanthic: yellowish in color.

25. yare: ready, prepared, and quick in action.

26. zaftig: (of a woman) having a full, rounded figure; plump.

27. brumous: foggy or misty.

28. cimmerian: very dark or gloomy.

30. effulgent: shining brightly; radiant.