#a strong front with a sweeter note

[bluemantics]

Ring, a small bell tinkled, signaling the entrance of someone into the bar.

“We’re closed,” Lance called from behind the bar, rubbing it down with a cloth. Cream-colored towel smoothed alcohol stains off of the deep mahogany, and Lance stepped back for a moment to take a break and admire his work.

“Do I not get an exception?” a thick western accent drawled. Lance’s head snapped up, eyes wide.

“Keith,” he murmured. There he stood, just in front of the door, his whole outfit white and black save for his red boots. Lance loved those. They were proof that Keith could be sentimental, if anything.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Lance said into the silence. He couldn’t help but notice the contrast between his accent and Keith’s, the irony of him telling Keith to leave. “It’s not safe, Red.”

“Pfft.” Keith sidled up to the bar, a dangerous gleam in his deep purple eyes. Lance shuddered. “Since when has danger ever stopped me… or you, apparently?”

Lance froze, halfway turned to clean up the back wall. “Sorry, what do you mean?”

Keith reached over the bar to grab himself a bottle of whiskey and poured himself a glass, staring at it and swirling it under his palm, gaze now turned down to the drink instead of Lance.

“What would the people of this sweet ol’ town say if they knew that their kindly bartender was not just hangin’ round with the fearsome outlaw Red, but was an outlaw himself?” Keith quickly looked up to see Lance, expression flint, waiting for the other foot to drop. “Ain’t that right, Blueshot?”

BANG.

Keith stumbled back, hands scrabbling for purchase in his coats, but Lance hopped over the bar in a smooth motion and grabbed his collar. He quickly shoved Keith back to the wall, pressing his back to the dark blue paint. Keith’s hands came up.

“That,” Lance hissed, pointing to the hole in the wall next to Keith’s head. “Was a warning shot, got that? I’m living a fine life right now, alright sweet cheeks? Don’t need anyone screwin’ that up for me. We clear?”

They were barely an inch apart. Lance’s measures breath mingled with Keith’s fast panting, but despite Keith’s obvious distress Lance stayed stock still. Keith’s eyes snapped to the pearl-handled revolver in Lance’s left hand.

He’d shot that with his left hand.

“Fuck, fuck,” Keith huffed. “Yeah. We clear, Blue, just get off, Jesus Christ.”

Lance just hummed, looking down at Keith with an expression he’d never seen on the previously peaceful bartender.

“I dunno,” he purred. “I kind of like you like this.”

Keith’s jaw dropped, failing to form a coherent word.

After a far-too-long (short?) pause, Lance pushed away from him. The gun vanished somewhere at his side. Keith came away from the wall, collecting himself.

“So now what?” Keith demanded, rubbing at his collar.

“Now,” Lance said easily, rolling up his sleeves to clean up more. “Maybe I’ll let you come back if you keep it a goddamn secret. And maybe I’ll see you around more now that we got somethin’ in common. That is, if you don’t get caught.”

Keith looked down to his forearm. A blazing symbol was on his skin, right below his elbow, a… V, just like his own but in blue.

“Alright.”

“Now get out of the bar, Kogane.”

[honey-tongued-devil]

[Arcane preference] reacting to their s/o wearing parfum

As usual, if you'd like to read more of my work, I have an ongoing Arcane fanfiction, Everytime It Rains (based on the alternative timeline). Click here! to read it. As for this headcanon, I had run out of my perfume stash and just restocked with Scandal, Black Opium, Honey Aoud, and Bianco Latte (all sweet with vanilla notes). So, this headcanon is my way of channeling the euphoria of my perfume obsession.

socials: | INPRNT | | Tip Jar | | X | | BlueSky | | Ao3 |

Jayce:

He’s not overly sensitive to perfumes. If you spray it while in the same room as him, he doesn’t feel the need to leave because he can’t breathe.

For this very reason, it always takes him a little while—not to notice it, but to figure out where it’s coming from.

The sweeter the scent, the more likely his first assumption is that you’ve bought or baked something sweet while he wasn’t around.

When you laugh and tell him there are no sweets and it’s your new perfume, he’s a little embarrassed but in a sweet, endearing way.

He’ll hug you, press his nose into the crook of your neck, and take in as much of the scent as he can to memorize it.

He doesn’t have issues with any scent. Sweeter ones make him sniff you more often because they make his mouth water, while spicier, “evening” notes are something he enjoys when you’re resting against him.ù

Viktor:

He’s very sensitive to perfumes; freshly sprayed scents give him headaches and make him feel short of breath.

This is probably a lingering effect from Zaun—his body reacts viscerally the moment the air isn’t clean and well-oxygenated.

That doesn’t mean he doesn’t appreciate it. You just need to let the alcohol component fade a bit before getting close to him, or at least spray it in another room.

He’s a bit more reserved than others; he’ll sniff it from your wrist while holding it lightly.

“Mh… yes, I’ve always dreamed of being in a relationship with a pastry shop.”

“You mean a pastry chef.”

“No, I know what I said.”

Ekko:

This man is a truffle dog; he notices the moment you arrive with a different scent.

His talent is playing it cool, becoming flirtier, and acting like a caricature of a gentleman trying to court you.

He prefers spicier scents to sweeter ones. If you wear something with vanilla notes, he’ll tease you, saying you smell like “the cake served by a Piltie’s servants,” but he doesn’t actually dislike it.

If a mission is particularly bad or he has a bad feeling about the day, he’ll ask you to spray some of your perfume on a handkerchief he keeps in his pocket, so he can hold on to your scent and feel closer to you.

Vander:

You could spray it directly into his nose, and he couldn’t care less. With the bar, he’s used to strong smells from cleaning products, spirits, and late-night disasters.

The alcohol in perfumes doesn’t bother him.

The downside is that he doesn’t notice it right away—he just doesn’t pay attention to it.

He generally tries to give you his full attention, but these little details sometimes slip past him. When you point it out, he’ll immediately try to make up for it if he remembers noticing something different in the air that day.

He’ll sniff it from your neck, slowly moving downward, justifying it as “trying to see how it blends with your natural scent.”

Silco (old man):

He prefers bold perfumes with character, like amber or woody scents, and finds excessively sweet ones rather childish.

He won’t hesitate to share this opinion in front of you.

He’s the kind of man who enjoys tobacco, wears Acqua di Giò, drinks warm whiskey—in short, he favors bitter and spicy notes.

But that won’t stop him from quickly growing accustomed to the scent he initially disliked so much, the one that makes you recognizable even as you ascend the stairs.

He’ll look for something similar or with complementary notes to gift you himself, though he’ll never admit that he’s come to appreciate it.

Silco (young man):

It’s rare for there to be an occasion to wear perfume, which is why the same evening you show up at the bar wearing it, he notices immediately.

He doesn’t have a particular preference for perfumes. But his love language is sarcasm, so regardless, he’ll make an ironic (but not mean) comment before telling you it suits you.

When you’re away, he’ll look for a piece of your clothing with the strongest scent to sleep with so he can feel close to you. When he’s the one far away, he’ll ask you to give him something, anything, with a bit of your scent on it.

He won’t sniff you in public—only when you’re alone, in private.

Jinx:

She loves sweet scents and hates bitter or overly amber ones.

“You smell like a pastry.”

The sweeter the perfume, the more likely you’ll catch her sniffing you or your things, just a moment before she clutches her stomach, whining about craving chocolate, caramel, or something sweet.

She’ll ask for a spritz of your perfume too, so she can smell as if “she just walked out of a bakery.” too

She prefers when you spray it in her hideout or in one of her rooms, so it clings to things and improves the overall smell.

Vi:

She doesn’t notice it right away because it’s not the sort of thing she pays attention to.

On one hand, she doesn’t love perfumes or anything that covers up natural scents. She prefers your smell—your skin’s scent—the one that drives her wild.

On the other hand, perfume is a fancy thing that hasn’t been much of a reality in her life, except for the cologne Vander used to wear.

Which was suffocating because he always overdid it.

She prefers spicier scents over sweet ones but doesn’t dislike anything.

She’ll kiss your hand and offer her arm, mimicking a fancy Piltover couple, babbling nonsense about non-existent upcoming galas and the finest shoe polish brands.

Caitlyn:

“How does she react?” When? When she’s accompanying you to buy it?

If you’re torn between more than one perfume, she’ll buy you the other without letting you know.

She notices immediately when you wear it, smiles at you, lifts your face, and kisses you with the unspoken understanding that this small indulgence is your personal little secret.

Those days tend to heat up quickly, often ending on the bed before you even realize it.

For the most important evenings, she’ll suggest which one you should wear.

Mel:

She hates overly sweet perfumes, finding them suffocating and cloying.

She doesn’t overdo her own perfume either, spraying twice into the air and walking through the mist so it’s not too strong or unnatural.

She prefers it once it’s already faded, so she can still breathe when she kisses you.

Ultimately, she’ll grow accustomed to whatever you wear. Sure, she’d prefer a citrusy or more floral scent, but as long as it’s on you, anything is acceptable.

Sevika:

She prefers none at all. She likes the natural scent of skin, whether it’s faint or strong.

She finds perfumes draw too much attention.

She’d never tell you this outright, though. However, if your perfume is too sweet, she’ll tease you, saying she didn’t realize she was dating a brioche. If it’s too strong and bitter, she’ll joke that you’re giving her PTSD and making her feel like she’s at work.

She doesn’t mind when you wear it on nights out together, because if someone notices the scent and turns around, they’ll see you’re with her.

[darnell-la]

please give me nasty ass hate sex with Logan in the xmansion turns out he’s a dick but one with feelings for you and you matched his energy and he got pissy and upset then confessed after hate sex xx

note: aggressive Logan might be the best Logan.

———

“Knew I should’ve rode with Scott,” y/n said as she leaned back in Logan’s passenger side seat to look out of the window. Logan’s known for driving for a good five minutes before saying something he knew she didn’t want to hear.

“I’m just askin’ why the fuck you’re so hooked on that man. Ain’t he with Jean?” Logan asked, making y/n scoff. “Yes, Logan — That’s why we’re not dating! We barely talk, only as friends. Jesus!”

“Don’t seem like friends when you’re giggling and grabbing the man,” Logan shrugged his shoulders as he kept his eyes on the dark long road. “We’re just friends, and Jean is around us all the time,”

“Aren’t you the one who tried getting at her while she was with Scott!? And you’re fuckin’ talkin' about me — the ignorance,” y/n rolled her eyes as the man’s grip on his steering wheel tightened.

“That was long before you got here. Over her now,” Logan said, making y/n laugh. “Yeah, or maybe you’re shitty because a woman finally didn’t want you over a sweeter guy,” y/n pouted in his face for a few seconds before leaning back into her seat again.

“I get what I want, alright? There was just no need to try with her. Too much work,” Logan said. God, y/n hated him. He hated Scott more for making her ride with Logan to get some talk time in.

“Yeah, of course it was. Bet I could get her before you,” y/n said, only wanting to make the man mad, and it did. “You already slut for Scott, so how about you get him,” his tone was stern.

“I don’t slut for him! Like, are you jealous or some shit? Let’s be for real, because you always have something to say about the man and me. Everyday day!”

“Jealous!? Yeah, you fuckin’ wish I was jealous of someone like Scott. Anything he has, I can get,” Logan scoffed, really thinking he could. “Where is Jean then?” Y/n asked as she turned towards him, with a fake confused face.

“Where the fuck is she then? Because she ain’t here,” y/n said. “Can you just shut the fuck up,” Logan said low, keeping his eyes on the road to avoid eye contact with the young lady.

“No, I wanna know where the anything he has, I can get, is at,” y/n continued, making the man’s blood from her smart mouth. “Where Logan!?” Y/n yelled at him.

“Shut the fuck up!” Logan took his eyes off of the road and leaned towards y/n speaking through his teeth and tone sounding like a growl. Y/n shrugged her shoulders with a roll in her eyes before sitting back in the passenger seat.

“That’s fuckin’ it,” Logan slammed on the brakes before putting the car in part. The angry man exited his vehicle, slammed the door behind him, and walked around the back to get to y/n.

Y/n was confused, not thinking he would leave her out there, so she just assumed he got out to cool down. Y/n laughed low, thinking she finally got the man before her door swung open.

“Get the fuck out,” Logan cussed as he grabbed y/n by her forearm. “Hey, get the fuck off of me!” Y/n shouted as she tried pulling back, but the man was strong, leaving her door open and dragging her around to the front of his car.

Logan slammed y/n’s upper body on top of the hood, making her cry out from the short pain. The way he handled her was rough, but she wanted to act rough, right? So she’ll get it.

“Get the fuck off of me, you dumb bitch!” Y/n called the man out of her name, making him grab the back of her neck to pull her up then slam her back into the hood.

“Keep runnin’ that fuckin’ mouth, and ima ruin it,” Logan threatens the girl, making her keep quiet but she kept fighting, wiggling and kicking under him.

“That’s what I thought. Keep quiet, bitch. Always runnin’ that fuckin’ mouth like you don’t got a hole to fill,” Logan had his cock pulled over his jeans and belt. Now he’s tugging at her x men suit he refuses to wear.

“L-Logan-“ y/‘ tried saying, but he did the same as last time, slamming her onto his hood. “You tell me what to do one time, and ima hurt you, and ion think a pretty girl like you wants that, don’t you?” Logan had brought his claws out next to her face to intimidate her, and it worked.

She wasn’t scared of the man. Not one bit. She just knew how angry he could get, and that he was too strong to not get what he was shooting for her.

“Telling me I don’t get what Scott gets. You think you’re fuckin’ hard to get? Huh!? You think your little whore ass is hard to stuff and impress?”

“Oh, Bub, you gotta be dumb as fuck if you think you ain’t. All I gotta do is stuff this pretty little thing, then treat you right. Give you money, gifts, and massages,” Logan leaned down towards the girl's heart as he dragged his fingers across her now exposed pussy.

“Bet you want that, don’t you, baby? I don’t mind. Don’t mind keepin’ you to myself so I don’t have to see that bastard hands all over you again,”

Logan pushed to fingers into the girl, curling instantly to get a reaction out of her, and he did. A good one that he’s dreamt of hearing.

“Knew you wanted me. Just look at how much you’re clenching my fingers,” Logan teased as y/n shifted on the hood of his car, trying her best to keep in her moans or show how good this felt, but she failed.

“It’s okay, baby — Don’t gotta feel embarrassed. Been smellin’ this pussy for months when you’re around me. Wet as a fuckin’ waterpark. So fuckin’ wet,” Logan groaned at the smell he’d been secretly sniffing at for forever.

“P-Please, stop that,” y/n begged, feeling him curl in the best places he could ever curl in. He knew where she needed it, which made this whole situation seem more hot to her.

“Why? Gonna cum? Thought you hated me. Now you’re gonna leak on my fingers. So fuckin’ pathetic,” Logan growled in the girl's ear, pressing his body on her to give her a better feeling.

“Cum for me, y/n — Cum so I can stuff you with my cock. Been hard ever since your sexy ass stepped in my car. Always smellin’ so fuckin’ good,” Logan sniffed the girl's neck, making her whine at the thought of Logan being that obsessed with her.

Y/n couldn’t hold anything back anymore. She came around his fingers with a loud and broken moan, hearing his own grunting in her ear. He was getting off on making her feel good.

“Ah huh — My good girl soakin’ my fingers for me. So fuckin’ good for me,” Logan pulled his fingers out of her and then sucked on them, licking every inch with an eye roll. She tasted amazing.

“For a bitch, you do taste good,” Logan said, calling her out of her name to get a reaction, and he did. Y/n lifted her body to turn around and swing, but he quickly slammed her back on his car with a chuckle.

“You worm stronger than me, baby girl. Gonna have to take my mouth for a few more minutes,” she could hear the smirk on his face, and she hated it. She hated him, but god were his fingers magical.

Before y/n could think of anything to say or do, Logan squeezed his cock in her hole, pushing and stretching her until she couldn’t take it anymore.

“What’s up, baby? To much? Too much cock to talk back to me?” Logan asked as her cries cracked. She felt pressure in her stomach. He was huge, and he knew that. He’s always wanted to watch her take him.

“C’mon, baby, talk back. Call me a bitch. Say I can’t get a woman to save my life. Say I can’t get you. Tell me you’re not easy, and I’ll pull out of this leaky cunt,” Logan said, knowing she wouldn’t and couldn’t say anything.

“That’s what I fuckin’ thought. Keep that fuckin’ mouth shut from now on, or I’ll tear you just like this in front of the crew,” Logan told no lie. He was an animal, and marking what was his was what he was best at.

“Yeah, I know, baby. So fuckin’ big. Gonna give you this every day. Train you to take my cock, and my cock only. I’ll know when you’ve been a whore. I’ll know if you let Scott touch you,”

“And let me tell you if he does. If he does, y/n, I swear to god, I’ll fuck the mutant outta you. I’ll make you a brain-dead human. Make you so fuckin’ dumb on my cock, he won’t even want you anymore. Only I will,”

Logan tugged y/n’s hair, making her back arch and her ear meet his mouth. “Gonna breed this lil girl, then take you back to my room. You’re around me twenty-four seven, now. You ride with me, and me only. I catch this pretty ass on Scott’s motorcycle, and I’ll fuckin’ claw it off,”

Logan couldn’t stop threatening y/n. He wanted her to know she belonged to him, and no one else. After he stuck his cock in, he was going to make her know that. This was finally a time to mark her.

“Mhm hm — So good. So so good,” Logan whispered in the brisk ear as his cock twitched. Y/n whined, knowing he was close. Before she could tell him to pull out, he began filling her up.

Y/n cried low, scared of what he just did, but at the same time, he seemed like he was going to do anything to make her keep it. The way he talked to her and handled her like she’s been his forever, made the situation feel better.

“Fuck,” Logan breathed out as he let y/n’s hair go and leaned on her back, cum still spilling in her as her walls clenched around him.

“Fuck,” Logan said, this time in a different done. In a more what did I do tone. “Fuck, y/n,” Logan pulled out of the girl and fixed himself up quickly, feeling his heartbeat raise.

“Y/n, we gotta- I- Fuck, I don’t know what I just did,” he admitted. “Shit,” Logan pulled y/n off of his car hood slowly before turning her around to rest and a more comfortable way.

“You still here, baby?” Logan asked, hands rubbing her cheek to comfort her. “Mhm hm,” she mummed, making him smile slightly. “Good. Thought I lost you for a second,” he chuckle.

“Wanna go back to my room to rest? Kinda had a long, uh, long ride?” He said. “Wanna go to my room. Scott was supposed to meet me-“ Y/n cut herself off with a laugh, watching his face drop.

“That shit ain’t funny,” Logan said as she kept laughing. “You ain’t goin’ back to your room. As a matter of fact, I’m moving your shit to mine,” Logan pulled y/n off of the car and guided her back to the passenger seat.

“I was just playing, Logan. When I say me and him are friends, I mean it,” y/n assured the man. “Don’t care,” Logan shut the door in her face before going back to his driver's seat.

“Logan,” y/n said as he got in the car silently. The man ignored her and started the car, upset Scott’s name was brought up in any way. He hated that. He only wanted his name to roll off of her tongue.

“Logan,” y/n leaned over to him to rest her head on his shoulder. “Don’t think that’s gonna work, Bub,” Logan said, face on the road with no emotion.

“Mhmkay,” the girl lifted her head up to lean back in her seat, but Logan stopped her with his right hand and pulled her back. “Ian says you can move though,” he said, making her laugh.

Logan chuckled before placing a kiss on her forehead, not knowing how he got here, but he knew it was right. He knew this little thing he’d been having towards her was just some middle school love.

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Handled.

You and Chibs have been walking the line for a little too long.

Pairing - Filip 'Chibs' Telford x Female Reader

Warnings - smut. cursing. alcohol mention.

Word Count - 1.5k ish??

Author's Note - I can only apologise for the wild gif, but I saw it and couldn't not use it. this fic is based on this request!! thank you for this message my love - it sparked so many thoughts. I made chibs a little sweeter than I meant to, oops.

Masterlist. Inbox.

The wind whips through your hair as you speed down the road, sunlight beaming down and warming you both.

You have your helmet tightly strapped on your head, a gift from the man currently in front of you on the bike. He'd grumbled as he'd given it to you, mumbling something about someone has to keep you fuckin' safe and last thing we need is an injury to your pretty face.

It's a complicated relationship you have, to say the least. You're not together. No, Chibs is still technically married to Fiona, and he's not exactly the boyfriend type. You're not sure what you want, reluctant to commit to dating a member of the club and all of the danger that comes along with it.

So, you dance the line. The two of you flirt, laughing and touching. You get close, and then you pull away. You wonder if one day, he'll just crack. He knows that if he starts something, he'll have to finish it. He's not a man who works in halves.

Chibs occasionally takes a hand off the handlebars to squeeze your thigh, a silent communication. He's asking are you okay? And you're reaching forward to squeeze his in reply, answering yeah, I am.

Your arms are wrapped around his middle, safe and secure. You can feel the taut muscles of his back and shoulders through the leather jacket that you're pressed against. You know how big he is - tall and broad and unwavering in the face of danger. He's ruthless, and it turns you on. It probably shouldn't, but it does.

The next time he reaches back to squeeze your thigh, you graze your fingernails along the muscle of his before squeezing back much further up. You feel the tension instantly, his back tightening in front of you. You smirk and hold on again, acting like nothing happened.

He's curious, now. Testing the waters. He squeezes your leg again, firmly, and you squeeze back so high that your fingertips graze his bulge. His breath hitches, and you feel it. You grin.

He pinches your thigh this time, sharply. A warning.

One that you ignore. You dance your fingertips higher, lightly stroking across the tent in his jeans, nails scraping the denim. He hums, low and dangerous, vibrations rumbling through the both of you.

You return your hands to his torso, clinging on tightly as you curve around the bends, scenery flying by. You're back at the clubhouse before you know it, the journey as quick as the blink of an eye.

You act like nothing has happened as you get off the bike. You know the two of you have just crossed a line, moving from friendship to something more. You don't want to address it. So, you hang your helmet onto the handlebars and go to walk away, in desperate need of a drink.

A strong hand grabs your wrist, spinning you back around. You collide with a hard chest, a soft oof leaving you. Chibs looks you up and down slowly, gaze raking across your body and stopping at your mouth. He runs his tongue across his bottom lip before pulling you in closer, hands snaking around your back.

"Where do you think you're goin'?"

You take a deep breath and exhale it in a shudder.

"... Inside?"

"Nuh uh," he tuts, tracing patterns across your skin absentmindedly. "You don't get to pull a stunt like that and just walk away."

You decide to play clueless, hoping it'll get you off easier.

"A stunt like what?"

He pulls you in closer again, so your bodies are pressed against each other. No space between you.

"Oh, sweetheart. This innocent act might work on other people, but it doesn't work on me. I see right through ya."

You find a shred of confidence from somewhere, determined to make him sweat a little. You enjoy getting under his skin.

"And what do you see, Filip? Hmm?"

He smirks, mischievous and knowing.

"I see a strong, independent woman, who wants - no, sorry - needs, someone to put her in her place."

You raise your eyebrows at him, so he keeps going.

"You want to be broken apart and put back together again. You enjoy pushing my buttons, trying to get a rise from me, don't you? You think it's fun. But you've got no fuckin' idea about the things I want to do to you, honey. I'm not sure you want to know."

You're panting, now, your chest heaving with anticipation.

"Tell me," you whisper. "Tell me what you want to do to me. Please."

"Please? You wanna be polite now?"

You practically pout at him, big doe eyes begging him to just give in. But Filip Telford is nothing if not stubborn. He is, in fact, the most adamant person you've ever met.

"Chibs."

"Yeah, sweetheart?"

"Don't be mean."

"Mean? This ain't mean, baby. You're just used to everyone being sweet to you because you're pretty."

You smile, now. That's a pleasant surprise.

"You think I'm pretty?"

He rolls his eyes at you, chuckling.

"I think you know that by now."

"It's just nice to hear you say it."

He leans forward, pressing his mouth to your ear.

"You know what? Yeah. Let's go inside."

Chibs grabs your hand and leads you with him, pulling you at a quick pace across the yard. When you reach the door, he pulls it open for you, gesturing for you to enter first. Ever the gentleman.

The clubhouse is empty, which makes a change. The minute you’re inside, you feel two hands on your hips, pushing your back into the bar.

“You really wanna know?”

His accent has got thicker, tone low and dangerous.

“Yes,” you whisper. “Please. Tell me.”

“You’ll never look at me the same,” he begins, leaning down to speak right into your ear. “When you hear what I want to do to you.. the things I’ve thought about… you won’t be able to look me in the eye, sweetheart.”

You chuckle, tilting your head back to look at his face.

“I think you underestimate me a little, Chibs. Wait until you hear the things I’ve thought about in bed at night, when I can’t sleep.”

He presses a kiss into your neck, nipping at it gently. You groan at the contact, tilting your head to give him better access. One of his hands trails down your side, popping the button on your jeans with ease.

“Gonna take the edge off,” he murmurs, “and then fuck you the way you deserve when I get you home. Alright?”

You nod frantically, gripping onto his biceps to keep you upright. You rest your head against his chest, taking a deep breath to calm down.

“Chibs?”

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“Will you kiss me?”

He smiles at you, all genuine and soft for a moment.

“Yeah, babe. I’ll kiss you. Been waiting for you to ask for a long time.”

He adds the last part quietly, as if he’s embarrassed to say it out loud. He leans down and presses his lips to yours, more tender than you were expecting. You hum in contentment, opening up to let him slip his tongue in. He tilts your head back, licking into your mouth all filthy and debauched.

One of his hands slips into the front of your jeans, tracing you over your underwear. You both groan at the action, lips still connected.

“Fuck, sweetheart. This all for me, hmm?”

You nod almost instantly, resting your head back on his chest. Chibs slips his hand under your waistband, gathering your slick before sliding a finger inside with ease.

“Knew you’d feel like this. Wet and warm and tight and fuckin’ perfect.”

You whine, winding your hips down to chase any friction he’ll give you.

“You’re filthy, darlin’. Letting me finger you in the clubhouse, huh? What if someone walks in, hmm? What if someone sees you like this?”

“Don’t care,” you choke out. “More, please.”

He chuckles darkly, slipping another finger in while rubbing at your clit in circles with his thumb. Your knees buckle, shaking as you grab onto him for dear life.

“I’ve got ya,” he’s murmuring into your ear, crooking his fingers. “I’ve always got ya.”

He speeds up his movements, leaning in to press open mouthed kisses down your neck. He nips you with his teeth occasionally, making you whine all high pitched and breathy. You know you’re gonna smell like cigarettes and gasoline for the foreseeable future.

“You’re close, aren’t ya? Can feel it, pretty girl. Give it to me.”

Chibs snakes his unoccupied hand around your back, holding you up as your legs shake. You fall over the edge, gasping into his chest as he mutters sweet nothings.

“There we go, atta girl. Good fuckin’ girl, hmm?”

You’re nodding, collapsing forwards against him. He pulls his hand from your jeans and instantly puts his fingers in his mouth, making your knees even weaker.

“Kiss me,” you whisper once again.

He obliges, softly connecting your lips. It’s gentle and careful and much more loving than you were expecting, but you’re not complaining. Not in the slightest.

“Now, darlin’. I’m gonna stick you back on that bike, take you home, and fuck you like you deserve. Okay?”

“Okay,” you grin at him, laughing when he chuckles.

You’d have to be insane to deny an offer like that.

@just-a-girl-who-wrytes

[anglsweets]

F.H ⭑.ᐟ – HEAVY 𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄

⟢ ˚.🫖ᵎᵎ . now serving — RETIRED! Five Hargreeves x fem reader. ⟢ ˚.🫖ᵎᵎ .WARNING(S) soft smut | emotional intimacy | PIV | needy five | strong language | body worship | inaccurate depictions of sex | velcro boyfriend five supremacy | MDNI !!

⟢ sweet’s notes .ᐟ. first official smut lesgoo!!! i didn’t proofread this because i have this condition where when i start writing, i can’t seem to stop so… my bad.

⟢ part 1 can be found here! and morning shenanigans can be found here

The movie had long since blurred into background noise, the plot forgotten in favor of something far more interesting like the way you were settled in Five’s lap, your legs bracketing his hips, arms draped loosely over his shoulders.

It had started innocent enough just shifting around to get comfortable. But then Five’s hands had found their place, one splayed palm against your ass, the other idly tracing patterns along your thigh. His fingers toyed with the hem of your shorts absentmindedly, his touch slow and lazy, like he wasn’t even aware he was doing it.

It made it very hard to focus on the movie. In which he has already suggesting you move things to the bedroom hastily.

You shift slightly, trying to actually watch, but the movement draws a quiet hum from him, his grip on your waist tightening for just a second.

“You’re not paying attention” he murmurs, amused.

“Neither are you.” You blink, as if just remembering the film playing behind you.

“I have more important things in front of me.” His lips twitch in an amused scoff.

You roll your eyes but don’t fight him when he leans up, capturing your lips in a kiss. It’s soft at first, slow and teasing, but the moment you respond, fingers threading into his hair, tilting your head to deepen it as something shifts.

Five makes a quiet sound of approval, his hand slipping beneath your shirt, pressing warm against your spine as he pulls you in closer. You sigh into the kiss, your hips rocking against his slightly, and that’s all it takes for his grip to tighten, his nails faintly digging into your skin.

“This is not getting us to bed” you murmur against his lips, breathless.

“It’s a detour” Five chuckles, pressing another lingering kiss to your mouth.

“Mmm… We should really move though.” You shift again, trying to get up, but Five refuses to let go, merely pulling you right back into his lap.

“Five!” you laugh, swatting his shoulder. Earning a smug grin from him.

“Alright alright” With a sigh that is way too dramatic, he lets you slide off his lap. But the moment you stand, he catches your wrist, tugging you back down for one last kiss. One that’s slower, sweeter, like he’s reluctant to let the moment go.

Somehow, between kisses and laughter, you both stumble off the couch, hands blindly reaching for each other as you shuffle toward the bedroom.

Then, a rug.

An unfortunate rug enters the equation. A red shah abbas rug from Istanbul to be precise.

You don’t even know who tripped first but then in that one moment you’re giggling against Five’s lips, and the next, you both go tumbling, colliding against the bedroom door with a thud.

“That’s the second time you’ve fallen for me tonight.” Five huffs a quiet laugh against your lips.

“You are so lucky I like you.” You snort.

“Debatable.” he murmurs, and before you can reply, he catches your lips again, swallowing your giggle as he finally gets the door open, pulling you both inside.

The second you both stumble through the bedroom door, Five barely gives you a chance to regain your footing before he’s pulling you in again, catching your lips in another kiss. This time more slower and deeper as his fingers already slipping beneath the hem of your shirt.

You hum against his lips, your hands finding his shoulders as he walks you back towards the bed, his movements deliberate despite the lingering clumsiness from before. The back of your knees hit the mattress, and just as you’re about to lower yourself onto it, Five has other plans.

Instead, he grips your waist and pulls you with him as he falls backward onto the bed, making you land right back in his lap with a soft gasp.

“Was that necessary?” You blink down at him, slightly breathless.

“Absolutely.” His hands slide up your back, guiding you down as he leans up, capturing your lips once more as you straddled him.

This kiss is different now. It was less playful and more wanting. There’s no rush, no urgency, just the slow, intoxicating pull of his lips against yours, like he has no intention of stopping anytime soon.

You melt into it, your hands slipping into his hair, fingers threading through the dark strands as you tilt your head, deepening the kiss. Five makes a quiet groan of approval, his grip tightening on your waist as he presses you flush against him.

The weight of him beneath you, the warmth of his hands, the way he sighs into the kiss…. it makes your head spin.

His lips part slightly, allowing you to steal another kiss and another then another. He’s so warm, so solid beneath you, his fingers moving in slow, teasing circles against your skin.

When you finally pull away, both of you are breathless, your foreheads resting together.

“You’re a terrible distraction.” Five exhales a quiet chuckle, his fingers still tracing patterns against your back.

“You’re the one who keeps tempting me.”You grin.

His lips twitch, but instead of answering, he shifts beneath you, flipping your positions so that you’re the one lying back now, the mattress soft beneath you as he hovers above, his weight pressing into you deliciously.

He leans down, pressing a lingering kiss to your jaw, then another to the corner of your mouth before finally catching your lips again, softer this time.

Five starts to trail kisses down the column of your neck, slowly undoing the buttons of your shirt while his slightly chapped lips scratch against your skin making you shudder. His hand slides up your thigh as his fingers dancing along your inner thigh until they reach the hem of your shorts. Your boyfriend teases the skin along the waistband tugging at it lightly before slipping his hand beneath, Five’s palm cupping your bare thigh.

You gasp softly as his lips find your collarbone, pressing a kiss there before he starts to work his way down to your cleavage. With the other hand sliding up your stomach, Five’s fingers splaying across your ribcage as he pushes your shirt up. His touch leaves a trail of goosebumps in its wake.

Leaning down, he presses a kiss to the swell of your breasts, his tongue darting out to taste your skin. Your boyfriend’s hand inches higher, his fingers brushing against the material of your panties. He rubs slow circles against the fabric, feeling the growing dampness.

You arch into him, a breathy moan escaping your lips as his fingers apply more pressure. He smirks against your skin, his teeth grazing your nipple through the thin material of your bra.

"Five" you breathed out, tangling your fingers in his hair as your gaze slowly falls onto him, swallowing your words like a lump in your throat.

“Mmm… yeah?” Your boyfriend murmured against your skin, not thinking much while he tugs your panties aside and slips a finger inside your slick folds, stroking your most sensitive spots.

You cry out, your back arching off the bed as pleasure shoots through you. "Shit" you gasp, your hips rocking against his hand. He adds a second finger, pumping them in and out of you with his thumb circling your clit gently. Slowly Five would work you until you were close.

Sensing this, he pulls back, his fingers slipping out of you.

“Why?” Your eyebrows scrunched in dissatisfaction as you watched your boyfriend chuckle softly.

“Be patient I’m getting there.” Five said in between sadistic chuckles while tugging his shirt over his head and tossing it to the side, letting it pile onto the floor.

Immediately he works on your shorts and panties, stripping them off completely, tossing them onto the floor to join his discarded shirt. He shuffles down the bed, settling between your thighs while a pout was evident on your lips.

"Let me taste you." he says, his breath hot against your core. Then his mouth is on you, his tongue licking a broad stripe up your slit before focusing on your clit, sucking and flicking the sensitive bud.

"Oh god, Five!" you mewled, fisting the sheets beneath you. He doesn't let up, continuing his relentless pursuit, driving you closer and closer to the edge with every lap of his tongue and flick of his fingers. Your thighs tremble, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps as you feel your orgasm building rapidly.

"Baby, please" you moaned out, tangling your fingers in his hair and pushing his face harder against you. He groans in response, the vibrations sending shockwaves of pleasure through your core.

Without warning, your orgasm crashes over you like a wave. His name coming out as soft moans falling from your lips like a never ending chant as your back arches. Your inner walls clench and flutter around his fingers, coating his hand and chin in your essences.

He doesn't stop, continuing to lap at you through your high, prolonging your pleasure until you collapse back onto the bed, utterly spent. Only then does he pull away, his face glistening with your juices.

Crawling up to you, he captures your mouth in a needy kiss, letting you taste yourself on his lips and tongue. You can feel his hard length pressing insistently against your thigh, knowing damn well how needy he is.

Breaking the kiss he kneels in between your thighs as you watch him unbuckle his pants. The soft echo of the metal clicking hits your ears as he hastily kicks the restrictive piece of clothing to the floor.

“Fighting with your pants now?” You teased watching as he reaches over to the nightstand drawer and retrieves a condom, tearing it with his teeth.

Five adjusts the tinted rubber onto his pretty cock, making your mouth water just by looking at it, growing more impatient for him as you watch his veins and angry tip pulse against the snug condom.

“Yeah, because it’s stopping me from being with you” He rolls his eyes playfully.

Settling back between your thighs, he lines himself up with your entrance, the head of his cock nudging against your slick folds.

With a swift thrust of his hips, he buries himself inside you to the hilt, a guttural moan escaping his lips at the feel of your tight heat enveloping him.

"Fuck" he hisses, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment before opening to gaze down at you intently. "You feel incredible."

You wrap your legs around his waist, urging him even deeper as you both begin to move together, lost in the rhythm of your passion. The room fills with the sounds of skin slapping against skin and your mutual moans and cries of pleasure.

He leans down to capture your mouth again, kissing you deeply as he drives into you again and again and again. One hand slides down to grip your breast, squeezing the flesh as he changes the angle of his thrusts slightly, hitting that perfect spot inside you that makes you see stars. He circles his thumb around your hardened nipples, pushing against the bud for that delicious friction.

Your nails rake down his back, leaving red lines in their wake while you mark his back, holding onto his skin like life depends on it.

He continues his relentless pace, the bed creaking beneath you with the force of his thrusts. You can feel another orgasm building quickly.

“Five, I'm s-so close…." you manage to gasp out, your voice high and breathy.

He doubles his efforts, pounding into you harder and faster, the room echoing with the crude slap of skin on skin and your escalating moans. "That's it, baby. Let go" Your boyfriend growls, his voice strained with his own growing orgasm.

Your nails dig into his shoulders as you hang on for dear life, your hips bucking to meet his thrusts. With a final cry of his name, you come undone, your inner walls clenching vice-like around his throbbing cock as a mind-blowing orgasm crashes through you.

Five buries his face in your neck, muffling his own shout of ecstasy against your skin as he finds his release, his hot seed spurting deep inside the condom. His hips jerk erratically, riding out the waves of his climax as he fills you with his essence.Your bodies remain entwined, both of you struggling to catch your breath in the aftermath of your intense lovemaking. He collapses onto you, his weight a delicious pressure against your sweat-slicked skin.

"Well…" he murmurs, pressing a tender kiss to your shoulder blade as he slowly softens inside you. "So much for finishing that movie."

You let out a breathless laugh, running your fingers through his damp hair.

"Our movie was better anyway." you reply, still basking in the afterglow.

He lifts his head to smile at you, his eyes crinkling at the corners in that way you adore. "Of course you’d say that." he counters, leaning in to brush your lips with his in a sweet, intimate kiss.

As you both slowly come down from your euphoric high, he carefully pulls out of you, your bodies separating with a soft, intimate sound. He disposes of the condom, then settles in beside you, pulling you into his arms so that your back is pressed against his chest.

The room was now warm, filled with the slow rise and fall of your breathing, the dim glow from the bedside lamp casting soft shadows across the sheets.

Silence lingers for a while, comfortable and easy, until you finally break it.

“Y’know…” you murmur, voice drowsy but amused. “For someone who pretends to be all grumpy and emotionally detached, you sure are a clingy cuddler.”

Five scoffs, but his fingers don’t stop their slow, absentminded tracing along your skin. “Clingy?” he repeats, raising a brow. “I hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but you’re the one sprawled all over me.”

You peek up at him, lips twitching. “That’s called reciprocation. You started it.”

He hums, pretending to consider. “Mmm… no, I think it was you.”

You roll your eyes, nudging his ribs with your fingers. “Gaslighting me after that? Rude.”

He smirks, but instead of arguing, he leans down, pressing a slow, lazy kiss to your lips. It’s soft, almost teasing, but there’s something undeniably tender about it, like he’s not quite ready to let go of the moment.

When he pulls back, you’re smiling, eyes half-lidded as you brush your fingers through his dark hair. “Fine, I’ll allow it” you sigh dramatically. “But only because the sex was amazing.”

Five scoffs again, shaking his head. “If this is what I have to put up with for the rest of my life, I might need to reconsider some choices.”

“Too late. You’re stuck with me.” You grin, shifting closer, pressing a kiss to his jaw.

“God help me.” he mutters, but his arms tighten around you, pulling you even closer, his lips brushing your temple.

Silence falls again, heavier with drowsiness this time. Your breathing slows, your body sinking further against his, and Five exhales softly, his fingers still trailing over your back, lulling you both toward sleep.

“… I am good in bed, though” he mutters after a long pause, his voice barely above a whisper.

You snort. “Cocky much?”

“Shut up.”

You giggle, pressing your face into his chest, and with one last lingering kiss to your forehead Five lets out a quiet, contented sigh, pulling the blankets up around you both.

And just like that, you lose yourselves in each other again. Slow kisses, quiet laughter, hands lazily wandering as exhaustion finally starts to tug at the edges of your awareness.

You’re curled up in Five’s arms, limbs tangled beneath the sheets as he lazily traces circles on your bare back. His body is warm against yours, radiating that kind of comfortable heat that makes it impossible to move, even if you wanted to, which, at this point, you’re pretty sure Five wouldn’t even let you.

“You’re kind of a Velcro boyfriend.” You murmur, voice drowsy but amused.

Five pauses mid-trace, lifting his head slightly to look at you. “What?”

You grin, shifting just enough to glance up at him. “A Velcro boyfriend. You’re all over me, all the time.” You demonstrate by wiggling your arms slightly, only for Five to tighten his grip instinctively, proving your point.

His brows furrow. “That’s ridiculous. I’m not–” He stops, eyes narrowing. “Did you just make that up?”

“Nope. I saw it on TikTok.” You giggle, shaking your head.

Five stares at you, unimpressed. “Of course you did.”

“It’s a real thing!” you insist, laughing as you reach up to push his hair back. “It’s what people call their clingy boyfriends. Which you are.”

Five scoffs, rolling his eyes. “I’m not clingy. I just happen to like keeping you close.”

“Uh-huh…” You smirk.

“Velcro” You added just to egg him on.

He narrows his eyes at you, then, without warning, tightens his arms around you completely, rolling onto his back and dragging you with him so that you’re sprawled across his chest.

“Five!” You yelp in surprise, laughing as you try, and apparently fail, to wiggle free.

“You brought this on yourself” he says smugly, arms locked around you like an unbreakable vice.

You groan dramatically. “Oh my god. You’re literally proving my point.”

Five smirks, utterly unrepentant. “Good. Maybe this will teach you not to get your relationship terminology from a social media app made for children.”

“So what, you don’t want me calling you my Velcro boyfriend?” You huff, shifting slightly to rest your chin on his chest, pouting up at him.

Five pretends to consider, fingers trailing lazily down your spine. “…No. It sounds ridiculous.”

You grin. “Alright, Mr. Velcro.”

“I will leave you here.”

“No, you won’t” you hum smugly, pressing a kiss to his jaw. “You’d miss me too much.”

“Unfortunately, what a tragedy” Five sighs, long and suffering, but his grip on you stays firm, his lips brushing your temple as he mutters against your skin,

And despite all his protests, despite all his eye rolls and scoffs, Five doesn’t loosen his hold on you even once for the rest of the night. Leaving lazy kisses down your jaw to your shoulder.

“Alright, now we should actually sleep.” It’s only when your movements slow, kisses turning into sleepy pecks, that Five finally sighs, resting his forehead against yours.

You hum, curling closer to him, a small smile on your lips. “Five more minutes?”

His chuckle is quiet, but his arms tighten around you, holding you close as he presses one last kiss to your temple.

“Five more minutes.”

Slowly the world fades, leaving only warmth, tangled limbs, and the soft rhythm of each other’s breaths.

[anzulvr]

Thank you for follow back! >.> meant a lot to me. Is it okay if I request a Karma x reader where the reader is very sweet & affectionate towards Karma & it makes him shy. No pressure. Just wanted to say hi & thank you! ^_^

♡ ୨୧ Karma with affectionate Reader ୨୧ ♡

ʚɞ fluff; no warnings || Karma Akabane ♥︎ note : HIII HII SORRY THIS IS LIKE CENTURIES LATE SHEA… guys pls tell me if you see typos I checked but I get sick of reading my own things again and again… 😭|| ʚɞ

— Karma is inexperienced when it comes to relationships therefore when you’re affectionate and sweet to him he doesn’t know how to act!!

His face canonically gets super red when he’s embarrassed though it’s not an often thing because he can usually shake things off with a joke! When it does happen it’s finally your chance to get back at him for all the times he’s purposely taken weird photos of you.

He’d be shy with PDA (when he’s not trying to embarrass you, since he’s also the type to mortify you by calling you the stupidest pet names in front of your friends and family.)

If you react strongly it's worse because he loves getting you mad and rilled up it's like his love language. Some people like giving gifts or giving words of affirmation to their s/o while he likes pissing you off.

If you randomly hold his hand or rest your hand on his shoulder he won’t know what to do. He plays with your hand instead of staying still as a way to distract himself from how giddy he’s feeling.

Half the time “playing with your hand” means him trying to jokingly get you to slap your own face with your hand, the other half of the time when he feels like being nice and cute he’s just lightly squeezing it.

Very “opposites attract” troupe.

Even when you were just friends you were very attentive which isn’t something he’s familiar with. For the first time ever there’s someone taking care of him? Asking about his day and doing anything to make him feel better when it’s a bad one? He’d find it hard to believe you’re doing so much for him without wanting anything in return.

When he starts getting more comfortable in the relationship he inches towards being sweeter and more open with you.

E-class finds it hard to believe when they first see it, cause it’s Karma out of all people?? Karma being affectionate??

Don’t get me started on Asano’s reaction to this, he from the bottom of his heart, thinks you’re being held hostage.

Most of Karmas “affection” is just making fun of people so when they see him being weirdly nice to you it’s creepy to them. Constant compliments and praise coming out of his mouth is something they didn’t think they’d live to see.

He can’t be serious for long periods of time and always finds a way to “ruin the moment”. For example you’ll hug him and Karma will hug back… for three seconds before he lifts you off the ground and spins you till too dizzy to walk. (He finds it funny to see you struggling.)

Ms.Vitch is tired of you both because you refuse to work with anyone else she sets you up with (since her class centers around assassination with seduction). Sure, the phrases she makes you all say are awkward no matter who you’re saying it to but you can’t bring yourself to work with your other classmates for that class! If you do work with someone else he’s so shady about it afterwards.

“Karma do you mind getting my bag for me?"

“Maybe ask Maehara since he’s so strong.”

“You know I only said that for the class!!"

Karasuma is also sick of you two getting side tracked, instead of sparring you two sword fight, instead of running a mile you somehow convince Karma to carry you on his back while he does all the running?! (he’s a show off.) Instead of doing pushups you sit on Karmas back as he does them. It gets to the point he makes you work on opposite sides of the field but you somehow end up getting together anyway within minutes. He’s starting to give up.

On the brighter side you’re together in all of Korosensei’s classes because he can’t bring himself to separate you two! He did once and you were so miserable he gave in. Even if Karma does give you the answers in exchange for a kiss (it’s really that easy.) Korosensei thought you might’ve died from heartbreak if he kept you apart longer.

It’s pretty hard to make him shy since he’s constantly being praised to the point his ego is up there. It happens in more quiet, private moments. Like if you’re at his house watching a movie and you’re moving closer together all of a sudden he’s looking at the roof and not the screen. He can’t let you see his face is beet red.

Another example is him seeing you in a pretty outfit and not being able to act right cause he’s flustered.

“Do I have something on my face?”

“No, you’re just, you’re- you you’re I like.”

“Come again?”

[whoredyceps]

"OH LOVER BOY!" || 28 Days of Love: A Valentine's Challenge + Series

day six: "i can't stand you."

ᰔ pairing: joel miller x reader

ᰔ summary: joel made the mistake of telling you he was having trouble with his generator, and you offered to help.

ᰔ author's note: this was going to have a sweeter ending, but i think with joel, it's a more realistic ending. there's a lot left unsaid, and i've always been a fan of stories like that. a little angst as a treat ✨

ᰔ content warning: jackson!joel, grouchy joel being a bitch but he makes up for it- kind of, slight angst with a happy-ish ending, reader gets small cut/mention of blood, strong language (joel and reader are not afraid to drop an f bomb) reader has non-descriptive hair (enough for joel to put his hand in)

"For the love of god, can you hold the flashlight still?" Joel looked back with a scowl on his face. He damn near dropped the wrench on his foot as you shifted the flashlight again.

"I'm sorry! Jesus," you muttered the last bit under your breath. You held the light still, a bit more rigid than before.

Joel knew better than to tell you that he had to fix something in the house. He loved you more than anything— you had built a nice life together in Jackson. For the end of the world, you two had a welcoming home and a good relationship. It was the best anyone could ask for in this post-apocalyptic world.

You had brought him peace and solace in ways he hadn't expected. He liked to think he did the same for you, in his own ways. You two complimented each other, an odd balance others in Jackson chose not to question.

That being said, you were not helpful when it came to handy work. Joel preferred to work on his own, or ask Tommy for help if he really needed the extra hand. Not that he liked the idea of another hand in the pot, but he knew when he needed another set of hands.

When the generator shit out at the end of the last ice storm, Joel made the mistake of mentioning to you that he needed to talk to Tommy about fixing it before the next storm came through. When you got that look in your eyes, excited to jump on the chance to help, he knew it wasn't going to end well. Despite knowing that, he knew it would be worse to tell you no.

Now, you moved the flashlight all over and talked through the whole process of him running diagnostics. While it was endearing that you were eager to help, Joel couldn't focus on what was in front of him. He had changed for the better thanks to you, but old habits die hard— or Joel Miller's bark was still just as sharp as his bite.

"Just hold it still," Joel gruffed. "The sooner I can see what I'm doin', the sooner it'll be finished." He wanted the whole thing to be over and done with, to get back to anything but this.

"I'm doing my best, Joel. I'm trying to help," you huffed. What had crawled up his ass was beyond you, but you weren't going to sit and let him bitch at you.

"Well your tryin' ain't good enough. Hand me the damn flashlight." Joel held his hand out, an expectant look on his face. The two of your stared at each other, a silent battle for dominance. Eventually, you conceded and shoved it in his hand.

"God forbid I try to fucking help you. See how much help I am when you need it the most," you snapped. "I can't stand you sometimes."

"Better find a goddamn chair then." Joel dismissed you with a wave of the hand before he turned back to the generator. He ignored the sound of a stomp and the door that slammed behind you.

It was well over two hours before Joel finally climbed out of the basement. It only took him an hour to fix the generator, but he wasn't sure how to approach you. After these pissy little fights you two had, there were two situations that followed. One apologized and the other begrudgingly accepted. By the time dinner rolled around, it was water under the bridge and left in the past. The other? A battle of silence and cold shoulders for the next few days.

After the chair comment, Joel braced himself for the silent treatment and a few sleepless nights on the couch. He was quiet as he walked towards the kitchen. He heard the radio playing, along with the sounds of pots and pans clanging.

He lingered in the doorway as he watched you. Even from where he stood, he saw the way your mind raced without you saying a word. As he opened his mouth, he watched you stop peeling a potato and cuss under your breath.

"Fuck! Goddamnit!" You ran your hand under the sink water. It had taken everything in you to remain calm after Joel's whole... thing, whatever had possessed him in the basement. The chair comment had you seeing red, but you tried to let it go as you prepped for dinner. Working on the meal was cathartic, and your anger had come down some.

Slicing your finger, though, was the straw that broke the camel's back. Another thing you had fucked up— something else to add to the list of bullshit you couldn't do.

Once the blood had eased up for the moment, you finally let a few tears slip. Your chest felt heavy with anger and regret, along with every nasty feeling in between. Joel still hadn't returned, and you knew it was your fault. You knew well enough that you should have just let Tommy help him.

Lately, you felt as if you hadn't offered much to Joel. You did some things, sure. Kept everyone fed, worked hard to make sure all ailments were healed— you pulled your weight where you could. It just... it didn't feel like enough. Of course, you offered him your love and support, but it didn't feel like you did your part. You thought lending a hand with the generator was a step in the right direction, a way to prove that you were capable of more in Joel's eyes.

"Let me see it." You jumped at Joel's sudden presence, the way he brushed against you to take your hand in his. You stayed quiet but still let him look your hand over.

"You saw that?" You asked. Your voice was thick with tears, which had yet to stop. The cut wasn't bad— just a nick and a bit of blood. Nothing a bandage wasn't able to fix.

"I did." Joel held your hand as he grabbed for the first aid kit you kept in the junk drawer. It was small, only various sized bandages and a few crumbled alcohol wipes that you had scavenged. He grabbed for a bandaid and ripped the paper open with his teeth. You watched as he bandaged you right up.

There was a beat of silence that hung thick in the air. Neither of you knew what to say, how to concede after that little spat that left you both in a sour mood.

Finally, Joel broke the silence as he cleared his throat.

"I didn't mean what I said. I'm sorry for snapping," Joel sighed. "Didn't deserve that." He shook his head. His hand still held yours, careful of the fresh wound.

You looked down, unsure of what to say. Your cheeks were soaking wet, and it made it hard to string together the right thing to say. Finally, after another long beat, you met his gaze.

"I didn't, and I know you meant it when you said it." Before Joel cut in, you stopped him by continuing. "But I know I shouldn't have offered to help. I'm sorry for putting myself where I shouldn't have." You leaned against the counter as you spoke. One thing about you, something that Joel appreciated, was your frank nature.

"I just, I have a particular way of doing things. Havin' someone else there just makes me uneasy. Makes me too aware of every move I make," Joel admitted. It took time and effort on both of your parts to get to a point where you were transparent with each other.

"I know that," you assured him. "At least a little bit, anyways. I'm sorry for makin' it harder. I just thought I was helpin'." Joel tugged your hand and pulled you into a hug. He tangled a hand in your hair as he held you close.

"You were tryin', and that's what matters. I love you, darlin'." There was still a pit of unease in your stomach, but you knew it was best to drop it. Navigating what you two had took work, and sometimes that meant dropping the subject. Joel did the best he could for you, and you did the same for him.

"I love you too."

Maybe the fairytales you had dreamed of when you were younger had the perfect ending and the ride off into the sunset. Then again, they didn't exactly include zombies and the end of the world. As you grew older and harder around the edges, you realized loved looked different. Now, it was give and take— no sunsets to gallop towards. It may not have been perfect, but what you had with Joel was good.

He loved you, and you loved him. That's what mattered most, right?

[nanamincreampie]

Be My Baby

Nanami Kento x Black plus size reader

(I was kinda inspired by the song to do this)

It was one of those rare afternoons when Kento worked from home, his neatly organized desk covered with papers and spreadsheets. You had tiptoed around the house all morning, knowing how seriously he took his work. But the quiet was suffocating by lunchtime, and you couldn’t take it anymore.

Humming to yourself, you fiddled with your speaker, scrolling through your playlist until you found the perfect song. A smile spread across your face as the first notes began to play, the unmistakable rhythm of the drums echoing through the living room.

The night we met, I knew I needed you sooooo

The lyrics filled the air, and you couldn’t resist. Twirling around in your oversized t-shirt and shorts, you danced across the room, your curls bouncing as you sang along.

Kento, seated at the dining table just a few feet away, paused mid-typing. His brow furrowed, and he glanced over his shoulder, his gaze landing on you spinning like you didn’t have a care in the world.

And if I had the chance, I'd never let you go

Your voice was slightly off-key, but it didn’t matter. You clutched an invisible microphone in your hands, dramatically lip-syncing the next line.

So won’t you say you love me? I’ll make you so proud of me

“Y/N,” Kento called, his tone exasperated but soft.

You ignored him, swaying closer until you were right in front of him. With a playful grin, you grabbed his hand and tugged. “C’mon, Kento! Just one dance!”

“Absolutely not,” he replied, though the smallest smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

We’ll make 'em turn their heads every place we go

As the beat picked up, you grabbed both his hands, encouraging him to sway with you. His movements were stiff at first, but as your giggles filled the air, Kento let himself relax.

“There you go!” you cheered, beaming up at him.

For a moment, he forgot about the spreadsheets and the endless emails waiting for him. Watching you laugh and spin, your joy lighting up the entire room, Kento couldn’t help but chuckle. He gave in, pulling you close and twirling you with surprising grace.

So won’t you please (Be my, be my baby) Be my little baby

You threw your head back against him, laughing and pointing your finger toward the ceiling in time with the lyrics. Kento chuckled low in his throat, a sound that made your stomach flip.

(My one and only baby) Say you’ll be my darling

As the song crooned on, you leaned into him fully, letting his strong arms steady you as you exaggerated your hip sways, laughing each time he grumbled about being dragged into your “antics.”

(Be my, be my baby) Be my baby now

By the time the second verse began, you were twirling away from him again, clapping and dramatically acting out every word.

I’ll make you happy, baby, just wait and see

You paused mid-step, turning toward him with your hands on your hips and a playful pout. “C’mon, Kento, I know you wanna sing this part with me!”

Kento raised a brow. “Absolutely not.”

“Oh, you’re no fun!” you groaned, grabbing his hand and pulling him into another spin.

For every kiss you give me, I’ll give you three

“Keep pulling me like that, and you’re going to trip over yourself,” he muttered, his hand tightening on yours.

Oh, since the day I saw you, I have been waiting for you

You ignored him, twirling dramatically, the hem of your oversized t-shirt flying up slightly. Kento caught the flash of skin at your waist and immediately steadied you with both hands, muttering under his breath about how reckless you were.

You know I will adore you 'til eternity

Your laughter bubbled up again, the sound sweeter than the song itself.

When the chorus repeated, Kento surprised you.

Without a word, he pulled you flush against him, holding your body close to his as he swayed lightly to the beat. You gasped, then giggled, looking up at him with wide eyes. “Kento!”

“What?” he replied, his expression soft as his hands rested on the plush curve of your hips. “You wanted me to dance, didn’t you?”

The warmth of his voice sent a shiver down your spine, and for a moment, you stopped moving. His fingers gently trailed up your sides, his palms brushing over your soft waist. “Keep going,” he murmured.

Your grin returned in full force as the music swelled.

So won’t you please (Be my, be my baby) Be my little baby

You finished the song nestled against his chest, his steady movements guiding yours. When the music faded, you turned to look up at him, your breath still coming in quick bursts from all the dancing.

“That wasn’t so bad, right?” you asked cheekily, resting your hands on his chest.

Kento's lips curved into a small smile. “If it makes you happy, it’s worth it.”

Your heart melted at his words, and you leaned up to kiss him, your soft lips meeting his in a way that made his arms tighten around your waist.

“Best dance partner ever,” you whispered.

“Don’t push it,” he teased, but the warmth in his gaze said otherwise.

[gloriousdreamerland]

Wait for me?

Pairing: George Weasley x Ravenclawn! Fem! Reader

Warning: Bullying (not by George ofc); Insecurities; Bad english and bad writing (really bad)

Words: 3.2K

Autor notes: I've never posted my fics here, or anywhere, i'm kinda nervous. They're so cute it makes me sick

Synopsis: Angelina and Fred are tying the knot and suddenly Y/N has to face unresolved feelings for George, which is even worse considering she never told him they are soulmates. 9 days of partying are more like 9 days of torture, hopefully she will survive, only if he stops giving her a heart attack every five minutes.

I know i'd go back to you - 01

“I hope you find someone who speaks your language, so you don’t have to spend a lifetime translating your soul” -Thema Bryant

    “Careful with your head”

    “What about my head?” Y/N said as her head got hit by a loose board from the front door “Ouch!”

    “Told ya” Angie chuckled as we entered her childhood home. What a way to get off on the right foot. “Dad really needs to fix this door before the wedding”.

Normally, Y/N wouldn't mind spending her summer with the Johnson’s, actually, that would be a good way to spend her time, she loved them dearly and grew up visiting this house since her Hogwarts years.

Even though they were sorted in different houses, Angelina in Gryffindor and Y/N in Ravenclaw, their friendship has stayed strong. Y/N was the shyest between them, but her courage steak was what put them together, practicing quidditch together, sneaking out to Hogsmeade together, damn they even fought a war together…

“Look, the Weasley’s are already here, but don’t freak out” She said as she grabbed her friend’s arm, trying to comfort her or trying to prevent her from bolting. Who knows.

   Unfortunately, they also got their soulmates in the same family.

“Why didn't you warn me sooner?!” she whispered in exasperation. Maybe Angie wasn’t actually getting married, maybe this was all some sorta of intervention. 

   Most people would love to have their soulmates in the same family as their best friends, why wouldn't they, but her case was particular. You see, Y/N used to have the fattest crush on George Weasley, aka her soulmate and groom’s twin brother, and that would be a good thing, only if she didn’t embarrass herself in every and any opportunity possible.

   Stuttering every time they needed to do a project together? Done, Hitting the wall every time she heard him laugh? …Done, Trying to show-off every time he’s around only to do everything wrong and feel stupid afterwards? Also, sadly done.

   What also didn’t help her useless highschool crush was her friends: Angelina Johnson, Bride and traitor and Katie Bell. Y/N love her friends to death, really, her best moments were around those two, they’re are one of the strongest,smartest, prettiest and brightest woman she ever meet, and considering what they’d done to “help” her and her love live, probably the shameless woman this town has ever seen.

   Any method you could think to get you friend close to her crush they probably have not only done, but maximized it to it’s scandalous potential, for example, putting a feet in so she would fall gracefully in his arms so he would finally see how pretty she is, only for Y/N to miss it and fall head full on the ground.

   Explaining what happened to Madame Pomfrey was so damn weird, at least they got a laugh over it, even Y/N after getting over it. Kinda.

   And, what’s worse to a girl trying to ignore falling head over heels to someone untouchable? Said person being one of the most caring people in the world. It would be easier if he was a dick, but, of course he isn’t or else she wouldn’t like him this much.

   If you asked anyone in Hogwarts who George Weasley was, they would probably tell you all about his pranks and how he and Fred are glued to the hip, for Y/N, somehow she got to see a sweeter side of him, don’t get me wrong, she found his pranks funny, most of the time, laughed at his jokes and though he always got even hotter when he smirked, omg who said that, although, she loved even more when he waited for her when all of the friend group was walking ahead, or when he got her candy, never those disgusting flavors, he always somehow got her the good ones, or how he never let her fall in quidditch, or even when he used to make jokes to get her off from the spotlight, knowing how much she hated it, and for a while she thought she had a chance, till it got too much for her to handle.

   Some people, disgusting unfunny people, used to make fun of her and her mannerisms, then adding all those times she embarrassed herself in front of him, it became too much then she bolted, not from him although, Hogwarts Y/N wouldn't ignore him even if she wanted to, she didn’t have it in her, but she started to ignore her feelings and wait for the day she would finally get out. She didn’t change her mind even when she got her soulmate mark, a firework shaped like a heart, and noticed it was the same as George’s. The girl actually felt kinda sad for him, between all the people in the world he got her as soulmate, he couldn’t be more unlucky.

   Then the war came and all her feelings were put on the sidelines for the sake of her survival and the others. The afterward was also bittersweet, not only the Wizard world needed to be rebuilt, but also Y/N. She moved to her childhood town in the muggle world, got a job, got a boyfriend here and there, none of them lasted though,  and tried to leave the past where it belonged. All this time it was enough, her friend told her the new gossip from time to time, but she always did her best to forget everything that could bring her to her past self, George included.

   So why on earth was Angie torturing her like this?

   The day she got her soulmate mark was a special day to Angelina Johnson, who found out her crush, Fread Weasley, was also her soulmate. They were always sicking cute together, true partners in crime, sorry George, they got together so many years ago Y/N couldn’t even remember a time where they weren’t a thing, so it wasn’t a surprise when some months ago Angie called her in the middle of the night to tell her all about her new shiny ring, and it definitely isn’t a surprise to be there for the week to finally see the vows.

   But hearing that the groom’s family was already here was definitely a surprise that Y/N’s poor heart was taking hard.

   “Look i know it wasn’t what was planned, but eventually you would have to meet him” Angie guided the girl in the house like she hasn’t stayed there since they were 11 “And, didn’t you say you were oh so over him?” Angie side-eyed her.

   “I did!” Y/N flushed seeing some of Angie's family members looked up to see who just shouted “I did, i am over it, but i would be even more over it if i came prepared”

   “You wouldn't need “preparing” if you were” her friend refuted. A traitor honestly.

   Angie was always like this, brave to the core, a true gryffindor, definitely not Y/N.

   “Girl calm down, you didn’t even let me say hi to your mom, i don’t want to be a rude guest” The witch untangled her arm from Angie’s and started searching to miss. Johnson and an incredulous Angie hunting after her not so behind. “They can wait for a bit you know, and your wedding is a week away, shouldn’t you be talking to his family instead of-” Thung, she turned a corridor and fell on someone. She really should look where she goes. “Shit, i’m so so sorry, i was just-” She said looking up to the poor soul who happened to be in her way.

   Holy crap

   She absolutely needs to look where she goes if she wants to survive this week.

   His red hair is longer from the last time she saw him, his arms stronger and he shouldn’t be allowed to be so damn prettier after all this time. Hogwarts Y/N’s poor little heart would have stopped at his sigh, but not grown Y/N’s, she will wear her grown up pants and will show Angie and her giggles, that she thought Y/N didn’t her, or simply didn’t care, that she is way better than little Y/N.

   “Damn, L/N, i see you’re still the same” George Weasley looked her up and down at her and smirked. Even his smile is prettier?! 

   “Uh- I- I- Just-” So. Damn. Embarrassing. Y/N took a deep breath and tried to get her shit together. “I was talking to the bride here. Didn’t see ya, sorry.” She tried to give him an unaffected smile. Keyword: Tried.

   “Y/N here was going to say hi to my mom then we would go after you guys, hi George” Angie smiled and hugged her brother-in-law.

   “Hey, Angie” he greeted her “Always glad to see Y/N, or fall on her” The bride giggled at his joke. Even though he said it to her, his eyes were on Y/N. 

   “Is Fred with your family? I haven’t seen him in a while”

   “He’s with mum outside, I saw him just now”

   “You’re one step from marrying him and even now you guys are glued to the hip” Y/N teased her friend. With a grain of truth however, they should really ease up on the PDA.

   “Can’t wait to spend a whole week trying not to see them all over each other.” George chucked. “Y/N let’s run away, forget the wedding”

   “Miss. Johnson and your mom would notice. There’s no escape fear” She said dramatically, forgetting for a second all the nervousness. George does have that effect on her.

   “If you guys were with your soulmates, you wouldn't be so bitter, lonely, and single.”

   “I’m sorry? I can pull anyone” No. She definitely can’t pull anyone. Especially her soulmate.

   “if You say so…” Angelina’s eyes went dangerously between her and him with an idea forming in her head. “I better go searching for my dear fiance. George, could you help Y/N with her luggage? She’s staying with Katie.”

   “No!” Y/N flushed looking like a deer caught in headlights “I- I mean, let him rest Angie, i’ll be fine”

   “Don't sweat it” The man picked up the luggage she dragged here like it was nothing. “Let me help you and let Angie go find her fiance, or else i think she’s going to have a breakdown” George joked, earning a slap in the arm before Angie went to find her lover, all while Y/N stood there, cheeks almost the same color as a tomato.

   “You don’t have to do that”

   “I know”

   “Really you can go with her, i’ll be fine.”

   “I want to help you”

   “But- don’t you want to be with your family? I bet they-”

   “I’ve spent enough time with them, -” He placed his hand on her back, guiding her to the staircase that led to the bedrooms. Her heart raced so fast with the sudden closeness that she almost missed what he said next “and I missed you, ya know. Didn’t you miss me?”

   “I really did” she showed an honest smile. “It’s been a year since the last time, right?”

   “Way too much time, although I missed you since the first week. Show me the way?” 

   She couldn’t catch a break.

   Y/N shouldn't have gotten that letter, the one that invited her to Hogwarts. If she didn’t accept the letter she wouldn't have met George, or Angelina, wouldn't have made a fool of herself so many times in front of her soulmate and wouldn't have to attend this wedding, and definitely wouldn't be feeling like sixteen again.

   She’s dramatic like that.

   Can you blame her? It’s been exactly 6 hours since she got into the Johnson’s household, and in those 6 hours, it seems like George has made it a mission to go after her. Some years ago she would be glowing with such attention, nowadays? not so much.

   The worst part is that she can’t say no to save her life. Fight a war? Count with her, say no to the redhead with bright eyes? uh-, what she didn’t notice is that she wasn’t that bothered with it, much to her dismay, quite the opposite. But it's a long way to go before she starts to see that she didn’t hate it, just the feeling of being vulnerable.

   Feelings apart -disgusting really-, she will finally catch a break tonight. After greeting Molly, who has the best hugs in the world and definitely the source of George’s sweetness, the older woman mentioned that tonight they would visit a family friend in the city and probably wouldn't make it to dinner. So, for now, it’s just her and the Johnson’s.

   “Sweetie, could you put the juice jar on the table, please?” Miss Johnson asked her.

   “Sure!” Y/N got the jar and some cutlery beside Ms. Johnson “Where is Angie?”

   “She’s helping her dad fix the door, David has been procrastinating since February” She stated “I think they’re almost done”

   Obeying the woman, Y/N put the table in the dining room. When she was 11 she used to think people didn’t really have a dining room, back home you eat in the kitchen or in the living room, so when she came to this house for the first time she was shocked. Y/N always knew money wasn’t a problem for her friend, she always had nice clothes, torn uniforms got fixed the next day, and especially: She always got the good candy in the train, but she didn’t know they were really well-off. 

   The woman took a seat in the middle of the table so there was enough space for the rest of the family, even though space wasn’t a problem now that the Weasley’s were probably, read definitely, eating out. So it was a surprise when mis.Johnson entered with her daughters and husband with a stack of plates in hands while mr. Johnson carried the diner.

   “More plates? Molly said they were going out to eat”

   “Just a backup if they can make it to diner”

   And just when she let her guard down, Murphy's Law has never been so true.

   Knock! Knock!

   Then the house was invaded by a horde of redheads.

   “Molly, dear! Have a seat, we were just getting started!” Ms. Johnson gave Molly a hug then took her seat at the table.

   Change of plans, but it's okay, not considering her thing, or the lack of it, with one of the sons, she actually enjoyed the Weasleys company. They really are a funny bunch.

   “You can’t believe who we encountered downtown!...”

   Y/N smiled to herself watching the family catch up. She really likes them.

   “Can I have a seat?” George, appearing out of nowhere as expected, asked her, mentioning the empty seat beside her.

   “Yes!...Well uh- no” Always the charmer.

   “For a second I thought someone beated me to it” He smirked and she didn’t think much of it -except how this makes him even more handsome. Nothing new, really-. “Have you already visited the town?”

   “Sadly no, i was kinda tired from the travel”

   “Not using the wand, i see”

   “I felt like using the plane, who doesn’t love the feeling of throwing up when you're on your way up there, right?” George chuckled at her joke.

   “You really should visit the town, it’s our only escape from all this wedding thing” he whispered the last part, like it was some sort of secret between them.

   “They’re so damn sickly sweet” She whispered while looking at the loving couple at the other side of the table, entering the plot “Disgusting, really”.

   “We really should run for the wheels, right?” She didn’t even think before saying that, then George’s smirk turned a little more sweet.

   “Totally, they’ll never find us. I’ll make a distraction then you make a run for it, i’ll meet you there.”

   “You really gave it a thought, Wesley” She teased him. This confidence really came out of nowhere.

   “I’ve been dreaming of it even before getting here, just you and me-” Something seemed different in his words, maybe a softness in his eyes that she still didn’t get, but, to any outsider, it would be clear that his wounds held a bit of truth. “And a city far away. Far away from my brother and our friend exchanging saliva in front of a crowd.”

   “Could you remember we are eating and not make me throw up in front of everyone? Thanks” She faked disgust. Well, not faked, but exaggerated, then turned her attention to Ginny on the other side of the table, sitting close to the potatoes. “Ginny, could you pass me these please?”

   “Sure Y/N” She smiled and passed her the potatoes, but, before she could catch it, George took it from his sister, took some potatoes, then passed it to Y/N.

   “Here Y/N, for you” The girl rolled her eyes with a smile as his sister looked at her in disbelief.

   “Thanks, George” She put some on her plate and returned to eating.

   “Are you Ginny?” The redhead asked her brother. “I heard Y/N asking for Ginny”

   “Don’t be jealous over potatoes, dear sister. There’s enough for everyone”

   While the brothers started bickering, Y/N backed her attention to her food. Angie’s mom is probably one of the best cooks in the world, but don’t let her mother or ms. Wesley hears that.

   Soon enough, the family has finished eating and some have started getting ready to go to their rooms.

   “Angie, could you clean here for us, please? my back is killing me”

   The woman clearly didn’t want to, probably wanted to spend more time with her new in-laws, especially with her fiance. Y/N being the good friend that she is took action.

   “Don’t worry ,ms. Johnson, I'll clean up here” She smiled at them and her friend’s face clearly showed her gratitude.

   “Oh dear, even being part of the family you are a guest, you took a long flight, go rest.”

   “I can help her, ms. Johnson, you guys can go rest.” He stood beside her then put a hand on her shoulder. Oh, the butterflies are back.

   “In that case, i guess i’ll be leaving the kitchen in your care, don’t let Y/N sleep too late. Good night family” She said while leaving the room.

   Fred showed up beside George, his smirk almost identical, but obviously more sarcastic.

   “Dear Georgie, is helping clean the dishes? Back in our flat he’d never-” Before he could finish, George shoved him by the shoulder.

   “You should go find your wife-to-be, maybe after five minutes with you off her back she finally noticed that you’re the less attractive twin” He bantered. Fred listened to his twin and left to go after Angie while muttering something that didn’t reach Y/N’s ear.

   “Let’s go, Y/N?” Just when she felt like she had gotten used to it, he goes and rushes her little heart again when he puts a hand dangerously close to her hip, guiding her to the dining room.

   It’s gonna be a long week.

[francixoxoxo]

Thinking about a summer picnic with Peeta…

note; reader is pregnant, set post mockingjay!!

just a quick very much self-indulgent domestic drabble, bit of a Katniss insert and some hayffie mentions

When you step into the house through the back screen door, you’re greeted with the sight of him slicing fruit on a handmade cutting board Johanna gifted you after your toasting. Simple enough, at first glance, but the perfect gift for a baker like Peeta. He looks over his broad shoulder at you, a smile spreads over his sun-freckled cheeks sweeter than the plum juice staining his fingertips.

“Nice walk?” He leans over to press a kiss onto your lips when you approach him. “Mhm. Found you some wild onion.” Peeta’s been trying his hand at cooking lately. He hums with interest when you set the dirty stalks in the sink. “What’re you up to?”

Peeta smiles again, almost shyly, like he’s expecting you to tease him about the silly simplicity of his idea. “Well, it’s nice out. What do you think about a picnic?” You don’t even get an inkling to tease. Instead, you’re reaching over his burly arm resting across the counter, lifting an apple slice to your lips and taking a bite. The juice is sweet on your tongue as you lift your brows and nod in agreement to your husbands plan.

Soon enough you’ve collected a napkin full of fruit and two sandwiches made from Peeta’s most recent loaf of sourdough, all tucked in a woven basket. Picture-perfect, Peeta points out with a laugh. The sun highlights strands of his light hair golden, casts yellow light over his strong nose and sun-tanned arms. He’s got your favorite white t-shirt on, the one that clings just a bit to his shoulders and biceps, but is light enough cotton to accommodate the District 12 July. Right around now, seven or so years ago, you might’ve been letting a heavy breath out, retiring back to your small home in the seam and simmering in the relief of not being reaped.

Now, though, you remind yourself things aren’t life or death. Survival was put aside— now, it was time to live.

You lay down the blanket, which smelled just faintly of moonshine from when you had draped it over an ever-so-slightly shivering Haymitch on your front porch a few days ago. He’d come over to bring you some goose eggs he was sure weren’t gonna bring any goslings. In fact, three of the dozen eggs are hard boiled, wrapped in your basket. Peeta smiles triumphantly at you when he unfurls the cloth around the fresh fruit, watching your loose hair blow in the same breeze rustling the grass in the meadow. It was just about back to the same rolling green it had been before the revolution.

He offers you a mandarin and another slice of that apple— you’d been craving them like crazy for the past few weeks. Peeta had mused that the baby wouldn’t have any lack of fresh fruit, seeing as his mama still hadn’t shaken the habit of foraging in the woods, even after the farmers market became a weekly staple down in the seam. Your belly isn’t round just yet, and kicks from your son are sporadic and gentle, but baby names are already a favorite topic between you two. Effie had offered the name Ford, the last time she took the train down to District 12 to visit Haymitch for a week. Haymitch had scoffed, “Like the River?”

“That’s a fjord.” Effie corrected, shaking her head and widening her eyes at him. Peeta eyes you with a secretive smile, and neither of you tell Effie about the river actually named Ford. She ditched the wigs when she came down to 12 nowadays (on Haymitch’s once-or-twice comment that she looked nicer without them), her strawberry blonde hair cropped close to her head but still accessorized with a maroon bandana tied as a headband. Haymitch had grunted, eyeing you as if to tell you it was much easier to concede to her than it was to argue her. But, much more fun to argue, as he opens his big mouth and drawls, “Maybe they should name the next one Mississippi..” Effie pinched his earlobe.

You cross your legs, reaching for the laid-out napkin of fruit once you’ve swallowed your mandarin. Life was good again, out in 12. Not to say there weren’t bad days. You couldn’t scrape the torture the Capitol put both of you through off your skin with a knife. But something about being with Peeta makes you feel like you don’t need to. Something about him, whether it be the boyish smile he shoots you, or the warmth of his eyes peeking from under his long lashes, it reminds you to breathe.

“You look gorgeous.” Peeta mutters, quiet enough to be kept between you— as if it’s not just the both of you picnicking in the young grass that’s living back up to being a soft green pillow. The fronds of the willow tree dance in the breeze a few yards away, but Peeta insisted on sitting in the sunlight. You can’t resist the girlish smile creasing your cheeks, which are sun kissed just the same as the man across from you. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”

“Wow!” Peeta guffaws, mocking offense to draw sweet laughter from you as you pop a raspberry into your mouth, trying to not grind the tiny seeds with your teeth and just swallow them along with the tangy juice. He shakes his head, “No, I see how it is.”

You shuffle over the blanket to him on your knees, your hands coming to splay along his shoulders and chest while you shake your own head wildly. “So sensitive!” Peeta laughs light and easy at that, his hand coming to hold your wrist. His palms were calloused and burnt in some places from the oven, but his touch always found a way to be soft on your skin. You had some callouses of your own, right under where your fingers shot from your palm, from your bow. Peeta sometimes rubbed his thumb along the line of toughened skin, late at night when sleep evaded him.

Peeta snakes an arm around your waist, smiling up at you like you’re the sun. Maybe you’re his. The hand on his shoulder finds his jaw. With the way he raises his brows you, it’s like he knows he’s handsome, and he knows you can’t ever get enough of him.

So what if he knows? You think, pressing your lips onto him for what’s intended to be a peck but delves into Peeta’s nose pressing into your cheek as he deepens the kiss, his stocky arms pulling you to sit across his lap. You let your hand roam along the expanse of his back. Suddenly he leans away from you, and a scowl is about to come on your face before you see him pop a peach slice into his mouth. The boyish grin Peeta shoots you, flashing his teeth only a second while he chews, you can’t stop the giggle that bubbles from your lips. He leans over again, his hand steady on your waist, and straightens up with another peach slice. You open your mouth and let him feed it to you.

Maybe it was silly, and maybe you were acting like teenagers and not former faces of a rebellion, but maybe you were making up for time lost.

“Y’know what I haven’t made you yet? Cobbler.” Peeta hums, watching you swallow the fruit. You hum in agreement, partially listening and partially admiring the way his blonde hair falls over his forehead, stopping a little above his brows. the sunlight set a gold about him, lightening strands of his hair, his eyelashes, the nearly invisible peach fuzz on his cheeks down to the faint blonde stubble on his jaw. His warm eyes twinkle with something sweeter than the peach juice lingering on your tongue when you say, “Maybe you can make it when we get home.”

“Putting me to work?”

“Absolutely I am, Peeta.”

[yanfluffery]

Platonic Yan!Old man!Eijirou with Neighbor!Reader

Order placed by : 🪽 anon :]

Reader is written to be 18-20 years old

Thank you for this wonderful request! This was such a fun concept to write!! I do think something possessed me when writing this…

Only a couple of months ago a moving truck had entered the neighborhood. Parking in front of the house next to Eijirou, who had been watching curiously from his mailbox. It’s been a long while since he’s seen anyone new move into the area, his interest immediately piqued. His hand rested on the mailbox's handle as if forgetting why he was even there. Just watching as moving guys unloaded the truck, waiting to say hi to the new neighbor.

Then you came out from around the corner, carrying boxes that looked far too heavy with ease. His eyes focused on you as you walked towards the door. You were young, that much could be seen. He didn’t realize he was staring until you turned to wave at him. Flashing a bright, friendly smile as you quickly greeted him before walking inside. He couldn’t explain why it affected him so much. But he didn’t hesitate to return the gesture.

Even after he went back inside he was still watching you from the front window. Standing idly in his kitchen, just watching you haul your stuff inside. It didn’t take long until you were done and telling the moving crew thank you and goodbye. You were strong and polite, something he noted mentally about you, and something he admired as well. Now he was wondering how to formally introduce himself to you soon.

***

The day came sooner than he anticipated. Even in his retirement Eijirou still enjoyed working out. Though his body couldn’t manage his old routines anymore as he aged. He made the effort to get up in the morning for a quick run. As he was jogging past your house one morning you were walking out front at the exact time. Catching his eye once again, the temporary distraction caused him to stumble over his own feet.

Even though you watched him steady himself you still panicked. Having almost watched this old guy fall flat on the concrete. Quickly hopping down your steps you walked towards him and spoke. Concern etched on your face and voice. “You okay, sir?”

Eijirou turned to look down at you with a nod, a low laugh followed after. You were much shorter than he had expected. The genuine worry in your gaze made him hold back another laugh. Strong, polite, and caring, could you get any sweeter? Honestly it might just kill him. He turned to properly face you and answered your question.

“I’m alright, kid, don’t worry. And no need to call me sir, makes me feel old.” He vaguely mumbled that last part but you still caught it. Earning a giggle out of you, the sound of which made his heart flutter. Maybe you could get sweeter.

***

The months passed, and you two only grew closer. Forming a friendship as you saw it. Whenever you needed help with anything he’d be there. And in return you would come over and check up on him. It made him feel less alone, he didn’t realize how much he missed having someone around. Someone to look after and care for. And every time you left it made his chest ache. There’s definitely more to this than a neighborly bond.

That’s what he believed, that every time you came over it was more than you being kind. You just wanted an excuse to see him. But you didn’t need an excuse, he’s more than happy to have you over whenever. Maybe even full time. You’d even joke about how you basically live with him and to say he was opposed would be a lie.

Dragging the trash bag behind him into the night, Eijirou gave pause as he heard the muffled sounds of crying nearby. Turning his head to the source he immediately made out your figure in the dark. Sitting on your porch steps with your head in your hands. He almost dropped the bag when he saw your current state. Instead he set it down on the ground before walking towards you. His hand finding its way to your shoulder.

“Hey, kid, what’s the matter?” He tried to keep his usual playful tone yet the genuine worry seeped through. You looked like a wreck, you’re quiet muttering into your hands didn’t help much. But he stayed patient and waited for you to speak up. What you said next made his brows furrow and lips pursed.

“I… I got fired, and I just… don’t know what to do” You sobbed as you finally lifted your head up. You couldn’t believe it, moved out of your parents’ place not long ago and you were already having troubles. So much for being a responsible, young adult. “Cause, who knows how long until I find a job again—”

The warm embrace of Eijirou’s arms wrapping around you cuts off your overthinking ramblings. Burying your face in his chest as your tears continued and bled into the fabric of his shirt. The wheels turned in his head as the both of you sat silently for a moment. You were tired, the way you could barely keep your eyes open from, from all the crying. He breathed in before opening his mouth to speak.

“Oh, honey, why don’t you come over and I'll get you something to drink? We can talk more once you’ve calmed down.” The quiet hum of agreement was all he needed before he helped you to your feet. Leading you towards his house and letting you inside. Missing the faint click of the lock as he shut the door behind you both, closing you both in.

Maybe you could stay here with him.

[jinx-xxed]

Another thought;

Saw way too many videos of folk bands and couldn’t stop thinking about this & there needs to be more Remmick + music content me thinks 🤓 || vampirism, light spiritual themes, 800 words

Remmick and his vampire lover don’t hunt in the traditional sense. You don’t go flitting through the woods chasing the scent of blood, nor do you go knocking door to door pleading for sanctuary. Instead, you play. Once the sun has set, you and Remmick will seek out somewhere dense with people, dense with those who have too much alcohol in their systems, who are drunk on the spirit of the moon and the warmth of a club. It makes it easy for them to ignore the way your eyes catch the light, the way something about you just isn’t quite right.

You find yourselves a nice spot to set up, far enough away from the businesses so that nobody can yell at you, but near enough so that the music carries. Remmick usually leads, beginning by strumming away on his banjo with deft fingers, making it easy for you to follow. You play along, your tune joining and twining with his and creating a beautiful, eerie melody layered with the stories you both share. The words find you instantly, your voice like a siren’s call, weaving the tale of a song Remmick has carried with him for centuries. Without fail, every time you sing, he’ll look at you like you hold the entire earth in your hands and he’s merely revolving around you. You captivate him just the same as any passerby.

Every night, people will join you. Sometimes it’s instant, sometimes it takes a few songs, but there will always be those who dance around you, listening to stories of far off lands or the familiar tunes they’ve heard in years gone by. It’s gorgeous how quickly folks come together to move their feet, to hum along to the rhythm you and your lover crafted. You can’t help dancing with them, your skirts twirling in pretty colors as you play and sing and laugh, joy thick in the air and sweeter than any blood.

Making music is when the two of you can truly be free. You can feel the way it lightens the burden on Remmick’s soul, musical notes lifting his weary mind as he works his banjo, as he listens to you and watches your lithe movements like it’s for him alone. With the way you two will dance and sing around each other sometimes, it really does seem like it’s only you and him, a shared fire of love burning fierce and strong between you. Then, some nights when the crowd gets so rowdy, when the music resonates so deep and true, you can see the way the world seems to shift, just edging that line between life and death. Remmick’s eyes will shine like the brightest stars, hope and desperation kicking in his chest in place of a heart as he plays until his fingers bleed.

It goes for hours. The ecstasy of humanity and fellowship keeps folks bound to your circle, keeps them sharing a drink and relishing in old songs that have crossed seas and mountains. It goes until the moon begins its descent, until people begin to grow truly weary and can barely stay upright. That’s when you’re able to strike, able to lure off a select few and drink their blood that buzzes like champagne, the undercurrent of fear heavy on your tastebuds. It’s akin to biting into a succulent peach warmed from the sun, its juice dribbling down your chin.

You and Remmick don’t stick around long after that. With blood smeared fresh on your fronts, you’ll go hand in hand through the fields or the forests, your trusty instruments slung across your backs and laughter on your lips, eager to find a place to hide until the moon next rises from her slumber, until she calls out to you to sing for her once again.

» ☆ «

Can’t write this without also thinking about the concept of a vampire band, of Remmick turning a group in his craze for that connection to the spirits, thinking that if he gathers enough people, if he makes them do it just right, the gateway will open. You’d watch as it never works out for him, the link between human and spirit severed the moment he takes their lives from them and instead makes them rough extensions of himself like branches on a tree. Failure after failure, too many vampires reduced to ash, and broken melodies leads to a sick desperation in Remmick. It makes him latch onto you even stronger as he realizes he just needs you. Just needs you to bring people in with your voice, to keep them dancing and singing to the stars above, to draw them in like moths to your light that shines even in death. He believes you can be the one to break the wall, believes the gods haven’t damned you the way they did him. It’s what drew him to you all that time ago.

Oh, he’ll keep trying, his stubbornness being the one thing he didn’t lose in all his years. He’ll keep trying to find that perfect chord, perfect soul, perfect tune, to finally shatter the barrier—and you’ll follow his lead just like every time before.

[ditzycafe]

🥐 Softening the edges

Summery ; Estella, a kind-hearted bakery owner in the bustling city of Piltover, is known for her sweet confections and even sweeter demeanor. Sevika, hardened from her life in Zaun, comes into Estella’s life under less-than-ideal circumstances. Over time, they form an unlikely bond that leads to something neither of them expected.

Author note ; I hope you guys like this it took foreverrr but I will be posting more I promise and please send ask 🥹🤍

W/C ; 1.7k

The little bakery on the corner of Piltover’s artisan district was a beacon of warmth and light. Estella, the bakery’s owner, embodied its charm—always bright-eyed, smiling, and wearing flour-dusted aprons. Every day, the aroma of fresh bread, cinnamon buns, and lavender scones floated down the street, luring in even the grumpiest customers. But there was one particular customer Estella had yet to win over: Sevika.

Sevika didn’t frequent sweet shops. Her world was one of underground fights and dirty deals, where niceties were a waste of time. However, she had a habit of stopping by Estella’s bakery—not for pastries, but for strong, bitter coffee. She appreciated that Estella didn’t ask questions or push for small talk. Sevika wasn’t the friendliest person, but she wasn’t about to complain about the only place in Piltover that served a decent cup of black coffee without trying to dress it up.

One cold morning, Sevika swung the door open a little too forcefully, setting the bells above it jingling madly. Estella was kneeling behind the counter, picking up a basket of freshly baked rye loaves. Her eyes popped up at the sound.

“Sevika! Good morning!” Estella’s voice was sunshine. She beamed at the towering, scarred woman in front of her.

“Coffee,” Sevika said flatly.

Estella grinned despite the brusque greeting. “I have some ready. Give me just a second!”

She busied herself behind the counter, pouring the dark brew into a clay mug. Steam curled up, bringing with it the rich, roasted scent that Sevika craved. Estella handed it over with care, their fingers brushing briefly. Sevika jerked her hand back as if burned.

“Careful,” Estella said gently. “It’s hot.”

“Yeah.” Sevika didn’t meet her gaze, eyes fixed on the black surface of her coffee. She turned to leave, but something made her hesitate.

Estella noticed. “You okay?”

Sevika froze. “I’m fine. Don’t ask me that.”

Her tone was harsh, but Estella didn’t flinch. Instead, she softened her expression and leaned on the counter. “Okay. But if you ever want to talk, or… need anything, I’m here. No strings attached.”

Sevika stared at her for a long moment. “I don’t do ‘friendly,’ bakery girl.”

“I’m not asking you to,” Estella replied. “Just offering.”

With a grunt, Sevika pushed open the door and disappeared into the street.

Days passed, and Sevika continued to come for her coffee, though she lingered a little longer each time. Estella started to notice the small things—the way Sevika’s shoulders tensed and relaxed depending on the crowd, the glint of something haunted in her eyes. But she never pried.

One evening, just before closing time, Sevika appeared at the door again. This time, she looked… different. Her arm, the one that had been augmented with shimmer-fueled technology, was sparking. Blood dripped from a cut along her cheekbone.

Estella gasped. “Sevika! What happened?”

“None of your business,” Sevika snapped. She staggered inside, breathing heavily. “Just give me the damn coffee.”

“Coffee’s not what you need right now.” Estella stepped around the counter, grabbing a clean towel. She hesitated only for a second before reaching for Sevika’s face.

“What are you doing?”

“Helping,” Estella said simply. “Sit down before you pass out.”

For once, Sevika didn’t argue. She slumped into a chair, scowling but too tired to protest. Estella pressed the towel to the cut, careful not to irritate it further. Her touch was so gentle, Sevika found herself leaning into it without thinking.

“Does this happen a lot?” Estella asked softly.

Sevika huffed. “Occupational hazard.”

“That’s not really an answer.”

“Stop digging.”

Estella nodded. She didn’t push, instead focusing on cleaning the wound and calming Sevika’s sparking arm. When she was done, Sevika felt lighter than she had in weeks.

“Thanks,” Sevika muttered.

“You’re welcome,” Estella replied, smiling.

The next morning, Sevika returned to the bakery. Estella greeted her with the usual smile, but today there was a small box on the counter.

“What’s that?” Sevika asked, eyeing it suspiciously.

“A gift,” Estella said. “Open it.”

Sevika’s first instinct was to refuse, but something in Estella’s expression stopped her. She popped the box open and found a small, perfectly golden pastry inside.

“It’s a honey bun,” Estella explained. “Thought you might like it.”

“I don’t eat sweets.”

“You don’t have to. But it’s here if you want it.”

Sevika carried the box out without another word. Later that night, when no one was watching, she took a bite. It was soft, warm, and tasted like kindness.

The days turned into weeks, and Sevika found herself visiting more often. Estella learned to read her moods—when to chat and when to let silence fill the space. Slowly but surely, Sevika began to open up. Little by little, the bakery became more than just a stop for coffee. It became a safe place.

One rainy evening, Estella was closing up when Sevika knocked on the door. She was soaked to the bone, and her usual gruff demeanor was gone.

“Hey,” Estella said, unlocking the door. “You’re drenched.”

“Yeah.” Sevika stepped inside, water pooling at her feet. “I… didn’t know where else to go.”

Estella’s heart ached at the vulnerability in those words. “You’re always welcome here.”

She fetched a towel and some tea, guiding Sevika to sit by the small fireplace in the corner. For the first time, Sevika let herself relax completely.

“You’re too good, you know that?” Sevika said quietly.

“I just care,” Estella replied. “About people. About you.”

Sevika looked up, meeting Estella’s gaze fully. “I don’t deserve it.”

“That’s not for you to decide.”

Something shifted between them then—a fragile, unspoken understanding. Sevika reached for Estella’s hand, and Estella didn’t pull away.

For the first time in a long time, Sevika felt like she belonged.

The days following that rainy evening felt different. Sevika still grumbled and glared at anyone who looked at her the wrong way, but Estella noticed something new—she lingered longer, softened more easily, and even gave small, grateful smiles when no one else was watching.

One afternoon, Estella had just finished arranging a tray of berry tarts when the bell over the bakery door rang. She turned, expecting the usual sight of Sevika in her thick coat. But instead, Sevika was standing there, looking unusually uncertain. In her hands was something wrapped in crumpled brown paper.

“What’s this?” Estella asked, stepping closer.

Sevika cleared her throat, looking everywhere but at Estella. “You’re always giving me stuff. Thought it was… time I returned the favor.”

Estella’s heart skipped a beat as she gently took the package and unwrapped it. Inside was a small, intricately carved wooden flower—a lotus, to be exact. Its petals were smooth and delicate, with a faint shimmer of varnish.

“It’s beautiful,” Estella whispered, tracing the edges.

“Not really,” Sevika said, her voice gruff. “It’s just… something I made when I had downtime.”

“It’s perfect,” Estella insisted. She set the carving on the counter and took Sevika’s hand without thinking. “Thank you.”

For a long, quiet moment, Sevika didn’t pull away.

But life in Piltover and Zaun was never simple, and peace never lasted long.

Late one evening, Sevika arrived at the bakery, breathless and tense. “Estella,” she said urgently. “You need to close up. Now.”

Estella blinked, confused by Sevika’s sharp tone. “Why? What’s going on?”

“There’s trouble,” Sevika growled. “Some old enemies of mine are looking for leverage. If they find out you’re—” She stopped herself, jaw tightening.

“If they find out I’m what?” Estella asked, stepping closer.

Sevika swallowed hard. “Important to me.”

Estella’s eyes softened, but there was no time for tenderness. Outside, the sound of heavy boots echoed down the street.

“Back room,” Sevika ordered. “Now.”

Estella obeyed without question, ducking behind the storage door. Sevika turned to face the entrance just as a group of thugs burst in. They were scarred, dirty, and armed with brass knuckles and jagged blades.

“Well, well,” the leader sneered. “If it isn’t Sevika. Heard you’ve gone soft.”

Sevika cracked her knuckles. “You’re about to find out just how soft I am.”

The fight was brutal but quick. Sevika moved with the precision of someone who had fought a thousand battles. In mere minutes, the thugs were sprawled on the bakery floor, groaning in pain. Sevika wiped blood from the corner of her mouth and turned to the back room.

“It’s over,” she called.

Estella rushed out, her eyes wide with worry. “Sevika—your arm—”

“It’s nothing,” Sevika muttered.

“It’s not nothing.” Estella grabbed a first-aid kit and started tending to the bruises and cuts. Her hands trembled slightly as she worked.

“You shouldn’t have to deal with this,” Sevika said softly.

“I choose to.” Estella met her gaze, her expression fierce and unwavering. “I care about you, Sevika. I’m not going anywhere.”

Something inside Sevika cracked—something she had kept locked away for years. Without thinking, she cupped Estella’s face with her good hand.

“I don’t deserve you,” Sevika whispered.

“Yes, you do,” Estella said firmly. “More than anyone I know.”

And before Sevika could argue, Estella leaned in and kissed her—soft, sweet, and full of everything Sevika had been afraid to hope for.

The next morning, the bakery felt lighter. Estella hummed as she kneaded dough, and Sevika sat at her usual table with a steaming mug of coffee. The sunlight streamed through the windows, warming the space and casting golden light across the floor.

For the first time, Sevika felt at peace.

“You’re happy,” Estella said, noticing the change in Sevika’s expression.

“Don’t tell anyone,” Sevika grumbled, but there was no edge to her voice.

Estella laughed. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

They spent the day together, Estella teaching Sevika how to make pastries despite Sevika’s insistence that “baking is for soft people.” By the end of the lesson, flour coated both of them, and Sevika’s scowl had turned into something dangerously close to a smile.

As the day faded into evening, Estella wrapped her arms around Sevika from behind.

“Stay for dinner?” Estella asked.

Sevika turned, resting her forehead against Estella’s. “I’m not used to this.”

“I know,” Estella said softly. “But we’ll figure it out together.”

Sevika kissed her again, slow and tender. And for the first time in a long, long while, she believed that maybe—just maybe—there was a future worth fighting for.

The end..

[fatuismooches]

Idk if this had been done yet but Dadtorre having a son that looks exactly like him that people mistake his son for a segment?

His lover finds it hilarious, they had their suspicions when their son first came to the world, which grew stronger the moment the infant could open his eyes, showing that red they so loved. Surely, the kid wouldn't be the spitting image of his father—

But then he reaches toddler age and he has the same hair. He's literally Zandy 2.0

His lover would be giggling at him, especially when Dottore has a faint hue of pink embarrassment dusting his cheeks. Damn it, who knew his genetics would be this strong?! Now everyone thinks he'd made a second child segment!

He's not getting 'Congratulations!' He's getting: 'Doctor, why have you made a second segment of your youth...?' from his colleagues!

Things get especially awkward when their son reaches around Alpha's age, people start mistaking him for the segment and give him reports unprompted.

A researcher could spout at him about his father's latest project, and the son would go: "Okay, I'll be sure to tell my father that :D" cue in the horrified look of that poor researcher. Does this count as dissemination?!

While their son inherits his father's face, he did not inherit the personality. Which means they now have a boy who looks exactly like Dottore, but has his spouse's personality running around the place. So people mistake him for this particularly bubbly and chatty segment (he definitely got his father's intelligence though so him tinkering with stuff in the lab doesn't help)

Oh, and for a tinge of angst :3

He inherits the illness.

There would be days when he can't get out of bed at all, pain shooting up all through his aching joints, making every twitch agonising.

This fuels Dottore to find the cure even more, for a memory haunts him. That night where he found his spouse comforting their child all those years ago, cradling his little body close to their chest, on their lap as the child sobbed, begging for this terrifying persistent ache to stop. Dottore could only stand by the doorway of his son's room as his spouse gently hushes him, false reassurances falling in abundance from their lips, promising that they will teach him how to deal with the pain for they have it too.

Dottore swears that he will save them.

Before your son was born, you had always teased your husband about the possibility, to which he scoffed at. (Perhaps a part of him wasn't sure what he'd do, knowing they'd bear such a resemblance to him, a monster.) Of course, you end up being right and you have laughed about it multiple times, much to his dismay. (Despite his kid's resemblance to him, his ever-observant eye still manages to pick out your features that had passed along to his son. The more his kid grows, the more he notices them both physically and in his personality, and he notes them all down, not wanting a single one to slip by him.)

Although the comments he gets are a nuisance, he supposes they aren't unwarranted. After all, it's still probably more believable that he made another segment rather than him having a child. A lot of times he brushes these questions off and said colleague doesn't find out until you break the news to them. They go so pale you think they may collapse in that instant (flashbacks to the time they provided him information, and wondered why he seemed much sweeter than he usually did.) It's probably so unnatural for others to see - the poor agents are getting whiplash from dealing with their boss's coldness and then being greeted by the child smiling widely at them. They watch as his son and you tease the Harbinger in front of them with no remorse. It's a bit scary, to be honest.

Your son inheriting your illness is no doubt your worst nightmare. You would think that Celestia punishing you would be enough, but no, they have to hurt your child too. You have to watch as he relives everything you did, watch as he's robbed of his childhood and so many memories and experiences. You resort to sleeping with him in case he's woken up from his pains and cannot sleep, your only remedy being to hold him and usher him back to sleep. Ignoring how your own body shakes as he cries. Promising that he's going to be okay (even though you're still not.) You can only look at Dottore with an exhausted smile before tucking your son in again.

You believe in him, if only for your son.

[mysunshinetemptress]

Nothing sweeter than my baby

Leah Williamson x Reader Warnings: Shitty writing once more, fluff

The thrumming bass of "My Girl" pulsed through the reception hall, a sensual counterpoint to the clinking of glasses and murmur of conversation. But for you, the music faded into the background, a mere echo compared to the symphony playing out in your hand – Leah's. Your fingers were laced with hers, a tangle of warmth and unspoken devotion. You hadn't let go since the last lingering notes of the recessional had faded. Even the well-wishes from your parents and friends, delivered with watery eyes and booming laughter, had been mere interruptions in your silent conversation.

Now, nestled against Leah's front at the head table, you listened intently as the toasts began. Each speech, a brushstroke painting of your love story on a canvas of shared memories. Your best friend, her voice thick with emotion, recounted the moment you'd confessed your feelings for Leah, her booming laughter echoing your own nervous fumbling. Leah's brother, ever the pragmatist, spoke of the unwavering support you offered Leah through thick and thin, a testament to the strength of your bond.

As your parents spoke, a kaleidoscope of emotions flickered through Leah's eyes – a glistening sheen that threatened to spill over. You squeezed her hand ever so slightly, a silent reassurance. Your mother, voice trembling with pride, spoke of the way Leah brought out a light in you she'd never seen before. Your father, ever the stoic, cleared his throat roughly before admitting you'd finally found someone who could match your stubborn streak, a comment that elicited a snort of laughter from Leah that warmed you from the inside out.

What you hadn't expected was a light tap on your side and hand as Leah pushed you slightly to stand up before taking your hand back in hers and holding the microphone in her other one.

A hush fell over the reception hall as all eyes turned to Leah. A soft blush bloomed across her cheeks, but her gaze held steady as she met yours. The corner of her lips quirked up in a secret smile, a silent promise of what was to come.

"Thank you all for sharing your beautiful memories with us," Leah's voice, though slightly husky with emotion, rang out clear and strong. "Tonight isn't just about celebrating our love, but the love that brought us here. The love of our families, our friends, and everyone who has supported us along the way."

She scanned the room, her eyes lingering on each person before returning to you with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. "But most importantly," she continued, her voice dropping to a low, intimate murmur that sent goosebumps erupting on your skin, "tonight is about celebrating the love I found in you, Y/N."

The room held its breath, captivated by the raw emotion in her voice. You could feel the warmth radiating from her hand intertwined with yours, a silent testament to the depth of your connection.

"From the moment we met," Leah began, her voice weaving a tapestry of shared memories, "there was something special about you. A spark, a connection I couldn't explain. You made me laugh until my sides ached, you challenged me to be better, and you loved me fiercely, even on the days I was unlovable."

A choked sob escaped someone in the audience, quickly followed by a wave of sniffles. Your own throat tightened, overwhelmed by the depth of her love and the vulnerability she was laying bare in front of everyone.

"You're my best friend, my confidante, my rock," Leah continued, her voice thick with emotion. "You're the missing piece I never knew I needed. And tonight," she stated, her gaze unwavering from yours, "I promise to love you with every fiber of my being, through laughter and tears, sunshine and storms. You are my forever, Y/N, and I will love you until my last breath."

Leah paused as the room erupted in thunderous applause, whistles, and cheers. "I remember looking for your engagement ring." Leah began again eyes never leaving yours "And getting asked time and time again, was I sure, was I certain you were the one, my one, and well although I was already so sure creating this video of the two of us I intended to use when I proposed you were just way too excited and wouldn't sit down and seeing all the moments you loved me even when I wasn't looking well, I never have to doubt about it...so Ladies and Gentlemen instead of harping on about how much I know Y/n loves me, and how much I love her I thought I might show you."

A hush descended once more. On a screen behind the head table, a video flickered to life. It was a compilation of candid moments all playing in sync with Hozier's "Work Song" playing softly in the back – you stealing a kiss under a fireworks display, Leah braiding your hair on a lazy Sunday morning, you two cheering wildly at a concert, your faces smudged with laughter after a food fight. Each clip is a fleeting glimpse into the tapestry of your love story.

Tears welled up in your eyes as the montage progressed. You hadn't realised how much you’d documented your journey together. You saw Leah blush as a clip played of you serenading her with a hilariously off-key rendition of her favourite song. Laughter bubbled up, chasing away the emotion. Your gaze darted back to Leah, who beamed back at you, a soft, reassuring smile on her lips.

A simple photo montage began to play you and Leah, faces flushed and hair windblown, standing triumphant at the summit of a challenging hike you'd conquered together, just after Leah had been cleared to play football again, Laughter lines crinkled the corners of your eyes, and Leah's arm was wrapped possessively around your waist. A soft murmur of recognition rippled through the guests.

The slideshow progressed, a montage of stolen moments - a candid shot of Leah sneaking a kiss on your cheek while you were engrossed in a book, a blurry image of you two dancing wildly at a friend's party, your faces lit by pure joy. Each picture was a snapshot in time, a testament to the depth and breadth of your connection.

As the slideshow continued, tears welled up in your eyes again. You hadn't realised just how many ways Leah had shown her love, big and small. A picture of you, looking exhausted after a long shift, with a steaming mug of coffee and a handwritten note from Leah tucked beside it, brought a choked sob out of you.

Flipping through vacation photos, goofy grins plastered on your faces. Home videos captured stolen kisses in the kitchen, quiet moments curled up on the couch with a book, and bursts of laughter as you tried (and hilariously failed) to assemble new furniture. There were snippets of Leah recording you from afar, your brow furrowed in concentration as you worked on a project, followed by a cut to a wide shot of Leah sneaking over and wrapping her arms around you from behind, the tension melting away into a contented sigh.

As the video progressed, each clip was a testament to the depth of your love for Leah and the unspoken ways she saw you. The final scene was a close-up of Leah's hands shaking slightly over piano keys trying to hold back her nerves before your hands came into view slowly taking hers in your grasp and squeezing them softly, as she nervously fumbled with your fingers. Her face was a mixture of excitement and nervousness, Your voice filled the screen, a surprised gasp escaping your lips as you listened to your words of encouragement but mostly at the look of pure love and adoration from Leah. "I can't hold your hand while you do this, and i know it's scary and you have had so many of these types of scary moments lately but this, Darling this is just another small step in a sad chapter in your life and believe it or not right now, but this is the turning point, the happy point your about to do something you couldn't, wouldn't have done until now, we're nearly through this part and when you start playing we'll be even closer to the good stuff, the football stuff, the forever with one another stuff." Leah leaned over and kissed you as the montage of pure, unadulterated love continued on tears streaming down your face as you embraced Leah tightly.

The video ended with the same picture that had started it all – the two of you, foreheads touching, smiles on your faces, a look of pure, unadulterated love in your eyes. The room erupted once more, this time with cheers and whistles mixed with happy tears. Leah leaned down, wiping a stray tear from your cheek with her thumb.

A choked laugh escaped you, burying your face in Leah's shoulder. "You sneak," you mumbled, the weight of her love settling over you like a warm blanket.

"The best kind," Leah replied with a wink, her voice husky with emotion.

The applause seemed to fade away again as you leaned back, eyes locked with Leah's. "That was..." you started, searching for the words.

"Perfect?" Leah finished, a hopeful smile gracing her lips.

"More than perfect," you confirmed, cupping her cheek. "It was a beautiful."

Suddenly, the gravity of the situation hit you. You were married. You and Leah, bound together not just by love, but by a commitment that stretched as far as the horizon. A nervous flutter danced in your stomach, quickly quelled by the warmth radiating from Leah's hand in yours.

"Ready to celebrate, Mrs. Williamson?" Leah asked, a playful glint in her eyes.

"Absolutely, Mrs. Williamson," you countered, a grin splitting your face.

The night stretched on in a joyous blur. You danced wildly with friends, shared stories with family, and stole countless kisses under the fairy lights strung around the venue. But through it all, your gaze kept returning to Leah. The woman who had become your everything, your confidante, your forever.

As the night wound down, the band launched into a slow song. You looked at Leah, a silent invitation hanging in the air. Her eyes softened, and with a smile, she took your outstretched hand.

As you swayed gently to the music, you whispered, "Thank you, Leah. For everything."

Leah leaned in, her lips brushing your ear. "There's nothing I wouldn't do for you, Y/N. Death can come looking and threaten to take me away." Her voice, raw and vulnerable, sent shivers down your spine. It wasn't just a romantic vow; it was a testament to the unwavering strength of your bond, forged through shared battles and quiet victories. "No grave will hold my body down I'll crawl home to you if I have to."

Tears welled up in your eyes again, but this time, they were tears of gratitude. You cupped her face, wiping away a stray tear with your thumb, mirroring her gesture earlier.

[mirohlayo]

🍉 ‘kisses. on. the. tip. of. the. nose.’ and ‘absentmindedly playing with their hair at all times’ with daniel? 🥹 and congrats on 1k love!!

SOFT TOUCHES

( what's sweeter than your boyfriend's affectionate touch ? )

warning : none just pureee fluff

note : a bit short but hope it worth it, also thank youuu so muchh bby ᡣ𐭩ᡣ𐭩 !!!

word count : 682

It was no secret that Daniel loved to touch you. He was completely obsessed with how completely at peace and loved he felt when he had the opportunity to touch you.

His love language was surely physical touch, at least that's what you thought by the way he loved showing you affection every minute.

And that was the case today. As he walked through the door of your apartment, a pretty bouquet of your favorite flowers in hand, his face lit up at the sight of you. He barely had time to take off his shoes when your arms were already wrapping around his waist.

A big smile took place on his lips, while his eyes were filled with hearts. He looked at you in such a gentle and tender way, that you could feel yourself melting under his intense gaze.

“Hello, gorgeous.” His eyes fell on your lips, while he didn't hesitate for a single second before pressing his to yours, in a soft and deep kiss. You pull back to be able to admire it, and Daniel took the opportunity to place thousands of kisses on the tip of your nose.

It was probably your favorite sign of affection. It's subtle, maybe a little childish, but simply adorable.

The way his lips brush the tip of your nose, caressing and tickling it, before finally peck that spot. Placing kisses there so comforting and yet so strong. He loved this gesture of affection, because he only did it when it was just the two of you.

Not in public, no, just you and him.

“We should make dinner, love.” His lips came to brush the tip of your nose one last time, while you headed towards the kitchen. However, he didn't take his eyes off you, a silly smile still hanging on his face as he wondered how did he manage to have such a pretty girlfriend?

And while you were trying to cook, you were of course interrupted by your boyfriend who kept bothering you. Or rather touch you. A hand on your cheek, on your waist, a few stolen kisses. And of course, subtle kisses on your nose. Only for you and your beautiful self.

But after your meals, you especially loved your moments of peace, in front of the TV, lying on the large sofa. Your head rested on his legs, while he absentmindedly played with your soft hair. He ran his fingers through your locks, wrapping them around his fingers.

It was a touch that made you inexplicably happy. The way his fingers stroked your hair, so delicately, the way he was careful not to rush you. Not to tangle your fingers to avoid knots in your hair.

You felt weak. Weak, under his touch, because he knew how to make you feel comfortable and soothed.

As your eyes slowly closed, sleep succumbing to you little by little, Daniel admired you. Your lips slightly curled, your eyelids closed, your shallow breaths as your face was simply angelic. Why did you have to be so beautiful even when you were sleeping?

The sound of the TV in the background was a mere distraction, as Daniel found himself completely infatuated by your beauty. And while his fingers continued to play with your hair, he placed one last soft kiss on the tip of your nose.

The city fell asleep at your pace, while the lights outside reflected the tranquility of the night. It was in these moments that Daniel found comfort.

That he felt his heart beating a thousandth times harder, that he could feel it coming out of his chest because it was beating so hard for you. It was in these comforting moments that he felt at home, at peace, and never more than in love.

And perhaps it was also in the softness of his lips against the skin of your nose, or in the way he stroked your soft hair, that he finally found the answers. The answers to his doubts and his fears.

There will never be anyone else he loves more than you.