#also this reply is 700 words exactly

[wornkindnessa]

"commander cody has already submitted your transfer, im sorry it is for your safety and security that we go our separate ways."

A rumor at best, she was sure of it, not that she even knew exactly what had been said or laid out. But considering his position it made sense. He was supposed to set an example, fit into some sort of image. It would not look good for a man who sat on their council to be discovered to have broken the golden rule so to speak. Though that was a tangled web of what she believed, and very little to do with the matter at hand, her own opinions in this case mattered very little. But she did not think the truth of what they were had actually been discovered.

Amelia would also not jeopardize his position, would not make him choose her over the only life and livelihood he has ever known, regardless of what she thought. She isn’t worth that, though she knows he’d say otherwise. She would hold true to that, as she had from the start, but truthfully and maybe naively she had assumed it would be a choice they would come to together, not one made for them. Perhaps this would all hurt less if it had been. “It's a pity that I seemingly don't get a say in the matter.”

There’s a rather bitter edge to her words as she looks away from him, she wants nothing more than to fight against the decision about her that she didn’t make. And she knew he didn’t want it either, it’s written all over him, from the empty shortness of his words to how he stood before her. She wished she could say it wasn’t fair, but it was hard to say that when what was had was supposed to be forbidden. Still it didn’t feel fair.

But maybe this was the better option, painful as it was. He would set himself aflame for her, not that he ever said it, but he didn’t have to. He was a Jedi, and he was still a man who cared deeply. Not that she could say those two weren’t supposed to go hand in hand, but now she was a weakness, a weakness for him, a chink in his armor. One that would be ripped out root and steam if discovered, both by those who would to use and prevent.

In her experience, not that she could speak for the Jedi, people had incredibly short memories. So perhaps, if they kept their heads down, played by the rule book, didn’t make a fuss, this would see itself resolved and they could return to how they had been. That was of course that would be something he would want when this was all said and done, which was a voice she would not allow to grow any louder. This was being done to protect her, protect them, and one storm would not see them broken.

A lifetime of practice of keeping her emotions in check kept her standing tall, kept the tears from falling, but that didn’t mean her eyes weren’t glistening with them when she at long last looked back up at him, giving a small nod. It was all she could muster to say she’ll do as asked, go along without trouble. She had closed some of the distance between them, forcing herself to stop the moment she realized. Every part of her aches to reach out to him, aches of him to give her something to press on the wound now blossoming across her chest. He had her heart, and had held it for some time now, and she would not not be seeing that it was returned to her when she left. Aches for his comfort that she fears will only grow worse. Jedi code be damned none of this was fair.

“For now.” The words are whispered in fear someone might hear them, yet she can hear the sadness that has crept into them. “Our separate ways for now.” Her gaze wordlessly pleading for him to give her something tangible, more than just maybes and light hope to hang onto, anything to soothe. That they would be alright at the end of it all, and she wasn't some foolish girl for thinking so.

[navybrat817]

😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨

credit here

Look at him!

Handsome and Beautiful

Pairing: Husband!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky wants to look good for you. He also wants dessert.

Word Count: Over 700

Warnings: Established relationship, slight insecurities, implied sexy times, Bucky Barnes and he's a simp for you (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: In the same universe as Mr. and Mrs. Barnes. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky scowled at this reflection in the mirror as he studied himself. He couldn't seem to get his hair quite right no matter how much he tousled it. He also wasn't sure when he got wrinkles around the corners of his eyes, but age and general stress would do that. Since when did he care so much about his appearance? He hadn't since the 40's.

Until you came along.

“Hey there, handsome,” you smiled from the bathroom doorway. “Looking good.”

A touch of heat went through his cheeks from your compliment. “Why aren't you dressed yet, beautiful?”

“I need your help putting on my dress,” you said all too innocently as you strolled into the room in just your bra and underwear, the color matching the shade of his suit jacket.

Bucky cursed under his breath when he took in the sight of you. “That's what you need my help with?” He questioned. He knew exactly what you needed help with. You'd tell him you have a few minutes before you had to leave and urge him to take off his suit jacket, roll up his sleeves, move your underwear aside, and take what he wanted from you. He wouldn't just take from you. He'd give and give. "My naughty wife.”

“I'll always need your help, my equally naughty husband,” you smiled, kissing him on the cheek and moving a few strands of his hair. Now he looked perfect. All he needed was your touch. “And don't think I didn't notice you deflecting my compliment.”

“I didn't deflect,” he argued. He sure as hell did. Maybe he could consider himself handsome by some standards, but you were a goddess. Some higher being smiled upon you the day you were born and knew you'd be a gift to the world. His world.

“You did and I demand a photo as payment,” you said, crossing your arms when he scoffed. He wasn't one for taking selfies or whatever the hell people called them. “Please, Mr. Barnes? For me?” You added in a softer tone, looking into his blue eyes in the mirror.

He couldn't resist you if he tried.

“Fine, Mrs. Barnes. For you,” he said, sighing as he took out his phone. Putting a hand on his hip, he held up the phone to take the picture you so demanded. “And you were right. This looks better without the tie.”

“I know best,” you teased, cringing slightly when he snapped the picture. “Oh, Bucky…”

"What's wrong?" He asked immediately when he showed you the image. Did you not find him attractive? “You said this was a good color on me.”

“It is. You really do look handsome,” you assured him, making him breathe easier. “But, my god, when are you going to get a case for your phone?”

He laughed, his eyes crinkling. Oh, maybe that was why he had wrinkles around his eyes now. Because of how much you made him laugh and smile. “When I find one I like,” he replied, knowing how much it drove you crazy that he didn’t have a protective case on his phone.

“We have already had to replace your phone twice,” you reminded him as he snaked an arm around you and pulled you against him. “No, don’t you dare distract me. If we have to get you another phone, I-”

“But you said you needed help getting your dress on,” he pointed out, pressing a gentle kiss to the corner of your mouth. Your fingers gripped the lapel of his jacket as his lips lingered, making him smile. “Don’t you want my help?”

“I do,” you whispered, whimpering when he kissed the other corner and gripped your hip. It was sounds like the ones you made that made him appreciate his super soldier senses. “But-”

“Or maybe we can focus on me fucking you in front of the mirror instead,” he smirked, wondering how wet your panties were now. “C'mon. We have a few minutes before dinner. Let's have dessert first,” he said, finally bringing his lips to yours and snapping a photo when you melted into the kiss.

Maybe he wasn’t a fan of selfies overall, but he’d take as many as you asked him to and would continue to create many happy memories with you.

We still need a breeding fic with these two. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[prettyboykatsuki]

— ❈ YOU'RE SO PRETTY, BABY.

▸ prompt ; companions and their responses to being called pretty boy / pretty girl.

▸ a/n ; bit of a generic post im sorry forreal. while i was originally just going to write this for astarion i had ideas for. all the other companions.

most of the characters have a reader w a specific class or background, all varied! also spoilers for gale, shadowheart, karlach, and lae'zel.

reader / tav is always gender neutral!

▸ wc ; about 4.5k, about 700+ words per companion.

ft. astarion, wyll, gale, shadowheart, karlach, lae'zel

no minthara or halsin bc i could not bring myself to write it. but maybe later if enough people ask lol.

❈ ASTARION ;

Astarion tries his very best to find your affection for him trite, even when he knows it doesn't feel that way. It's an instinct for him, one you'll simply have to make peace with you if you're really planning on tailing him to the end of the world.

Truth be told though, he likes your generally affectionate nature. He hasn't reached a point he can admit this so openly, but the comfortable and easy way you reach for him is nice. He likes how your hands seem to stretch for him, the way you cling to his spine when you sleep in his tent and the likes.

And while he is not stranger to hypocrisy, he thinks it'd be amiss to try and bar you from calling him any pet names when he calls you so many. He's got quite a few handy. Darling is a favorite, followed by dear, and sometimes my love when he can muster up the courage to mean it instead of saying it like he's trying to perform.

You like to call Astarion by his name though, most often. He isn't exactly sure why you're so fond of it, and truthfully he's done little to consider his own name. You say it wonderfully though, tasteful and loving and soft.

Sometimes you gasp it in offense or horror or shock, other times in pleasure. Sometimes you whimper it in your sleep, groping around until your hands fist in the material of his shirt and you drag him back to you.

In any case, he's used to hearing his name. So hearing you utter the words pretty boy to him, he can't help but be a little shocked.

You're a little tipsy. A hard, arduous journey of fighting githyanki soldiers has taken a terrible toll on your normal inhibitions. You're quite flushed while you're drunk, and all the same sitting in his lap like you've not a care in the world.

Astarion doesn't mind holding you. In fact, he's thinking of all the terribly teasing things he can say to you come morning. So far, you've done nothing but mumble. It's a sudden movement, your hands clasped around his face.

"Feeling forward are we darling?" He says, like second nature. It's so reactionary it's banal, though he does have some enthusiasm since the flirtation is directed at you. Instead of your usual giggling, you stare at him with your lips parted.

"I suppose I am pretty boy," You reply, a completely foreign confidence in your voice that stops him dead in his tracks. Underneath the thick layer of flirtation is sincerity so unmistakable it almost proves to be too much "Could I ask you to keep me company?"

Astarion is, eternally grateful about the fact you don't get much more than that out of you. He spends the entire night thinking about it. You're certainly not the first to call him pretty, and that particular phrasing has been thrown to him more than once.

Yet it rings a little differently. The way you said it so tenderly, your hands stroking the nape of his neck and cupping his face. Well, it's not nothing. He can't decide if he hates it or not until the next morning comes.

Your eyes flutter open as light pours through the open part of his tent. You reach over to him with a deep sigh, engaging in some quiet morning affection when you repeat yesterdays sentiment.

"Good morning, my very pretty boy," You say - and this time Astarion is sure whatever he is feeling he has not ever felt previously "Sorry for the antics last night."

"So your memory hasn't failed you. Good to know." Astarion says back. You laugh lightly. "Your charming little pet name worried me quite a bit."

"Nothing to worry about my love." You say, warm and nuzzling into his neck likely to cool yourself from over-heating "I really do find you very pretty."

He can't help the feeling that floods his sense. He likes it even though he feels a little clingy, but perhaps there's no need to admit that.

"Oh, really, darling? How sweet you are. Tell me again, then. Just for kicks this time."

❈ WYLL ;

it's a matter of getting used to it for Wyll.

For the first month of your adventuring together, pretty boy, had been a somewhat condescending substitute for his name. Among other ones, like daddy's boy and prince. None of the pet names held any real affection.

You liked getting under his skin, after all.

You didn't get on at first, not for a long while. You're a rogue, a ratty street urchin turned mercenary who'd spent your youth climbing through the soil and mud of the Lower City's underbelly. Your words verbatim, not his. At first, your resentment for him caught him off guard, especially because Wyll prefers to keep the peace and get along with everyone. But, he had a difficult time understanding you, even with his people skills

Eventually it clicked that your resentment was less towards him, and more towards what he represents. You're a Baldurian, but one abandoned by the city and it's people. What else could the Ravengards represent if not the future you never had a chance to look towards.

It was easier after that. And Wyll had promised to himself to observe you closer. In that, he found to like you a great deal.

He's fond of pet names in general, but more fond of you lately. At the beginning of your adventure, it was a little difficult to get accustomed to your... roughness. You lack delicacy, but you're not exactly silver tongued.

Yet, you're not as cruel as you make yourself out to be. Contrarily, while you've traveled together, Wyll bore witness to only gentleness. Nothing more. The words you spoke about only doing things for coin had been clearly disproved by your countless acts of charity. Especially gentle and kind to children, and especially unforgiving to the rich and unhelpful.

Once he got used to it, there was something kind of...sweet about it. To see you say one thing and do another had it's own novelty that Wyll grew fond of you.

It was the night of tiefling party that roused his feelings. That night, he'd watched you play with the tiefling children all night, teaching them tricks of the trade.

And you'd started falling for him, too, judging by the way your usual snark was nowhere to be found.

Especially vivid is the change in your tone when you call him the same way you did before.

"We'll take a short rest for you, pretty boy." Your voice murmurs, looking carefully over his wounds while place down your own weapons "Get your spells back. Organize our things in the mean time."

He gives you look, examining your own worry before his smile stretches into one of fondness. It doesn't bother him at all, not anymore. No, lately - it sounds rather fond, and each time Wyll hears it, it does something for ego.

"No need for the concern, though I am appreciative," He says, not bothering to mask the smug quality in his voice at your change. He delights in it a little, admittedly . "I'll be alright soon enough."

You don't seem to notice, too busy wiping your blade of fresh blood, metal shiny as moonlight. "And there's no need for your heroism, Blade of Frontiers. Have some discernment about time and place."

You look up at him with your brows furrowed, and Wyll can barely help himself. "Are you worried I'll lose what's left in my appearances? I'm just telling you there's no need to trouble yourself over it."

It takes you a while to register to his words, but when it finally does - your eyes blow wide. The look of embarrassment on your face is well worth it.

"I thought you hated when I called you that." You say coolly.

"It's not so bad," He says back tenderly, staring at you "At least not anymore."

You pout a little. Wyll fights some unspoken urge to kiss you. A little longer.

"I prefer when you're acting oblivious,"

"Sorry to disappoint."

He lets his head lay on the wall behind him - reaching a hand for yours instead, trying to rest up as promised. He sees you smiling from the corner of his eye and affirms it to himself. You squeeze, soft, but otherwise say nothing about it.

Yes, lately, nothing you say could get under his skin. Even when you so obviously try.

❈ GALE ;

Gale is always the poet, never the muse.

He thought highly of his relationship with Mystra, and in many ways still does. He loved her. This much is true. He can't say for any certainty if she had loved him just as much, or at all. He wasn't the first mortal, and would hardly be the last.

But he loved her, enough to write about her and wax poetic about all that he'd lost.

When Gale examines any of his past relationship, he realizes this is some kind of pattern. Gale is good at being loving, but he does not know for certain if any of them loved him back. Or if he was loved in the way he loves - if it was anything near close. Gale had thought, at one point, it was just matter of destiny. Gale is after all, a man who bleeds with all he has.

He can't blame anyone for loving him less than when he is categorically too much. He thought that way for a long time, destined himself to never find love again or beg for Mystra's forgiveness for some new found purpose.

When you came into his life, he hadn't been sure what would come of your relationship. Certainly a brain parasite would make camp a difficult place for romance, but the two of you managed against all odds. Among all the things that Gale finds astonishing about your relationship - it's your affection for him that catches him the most off-guard.

It's a little sad, he can admit. But it's true. When you speak to Gale, your voice is always soft. It's never demanding. Before, always, there had been some kind of expectation. Gale had to be a certain way, to pour himself into someone else for the sake of it being returned.He loved. Surely he loved.

But now, lately, you love him back. Overwhelmingly. The easiness of your love makes him feel a little... spoiled. Which is embarrassing, at the stage of life he's in. He finds the whole thing tips him over the edge. The heat creeping up his neck every time he remembers. Your hand brushing against the back of his neck, cupping his face so gently.

Gale, perhaps unsurprisingly, is fond of your various pet names. All of them sound good. Make him feel important and desired. You like to call him a bookworm, sometimes you call him baby (which he really likes much more than he is ever willing to admit), and other times you settle on saying my love.

Pretty boy is new. Pretty boy is different, and makes heat crawl up the back of Gale's neck like a smitten school boy.

It has a special effect on Gale.

In between classes, spoken with your hands cupping his face as he leans on his desk. The sunlight is pouring through the large paneled windows, casting a warmth on your expression. Gale is sat on his desk, making you eye-level.

"I'm glad you've come to see me," Gale says to you first, breaking a period of comfortable silence. You're a busy person, given all the heroics. Gale finds it troublesome, despite the fact you've moved with him to Waterdeep. Your reputation precedes you "It's been ages,"

"Of course I'd come to see you, pretty boy," You hum, thumb brushing under his cheek - carefully drawing a line "You're very healing to look at."

The effect is rather immediate. As soon as the words leave your lips, spoken to him so lovingly - he unlocks a part of himself he always seems to forget about. Forgets himself in a fundamental way, the flurry of heat and euphoric sensation of adoration washing over him like water.

He gives you a look, and you laugh - pressing your thumb to his lower lip as you lean in for a kiss. "Stop pouting, will you?"

"I'm doing nothing of the sort," He insists, kissing you despite him. You laugh into, warm and bubbly. For a minute, he remembers all he might've lost had he done what Mystra told him.

He's glad he's alive. To feel you.

"You very much are," You reply back, once you've managed to pull away from each other "Don't be so surprised. You've always been very pretty to me."

He blushes again, deeper, and closes his eyes.

❈ SHADOWHEART ;

You don't often communicate your feelings to Shadowheart through words.

You're something of a stoic. Of the few people in Shadowheart's past who remain by her side, many of them communicate about how surprised they are about your partnership. Shadowheart is known to be a little snarky, witty. She used to be very prickly, at the start of your adventure together - so everyone questions how you were able to win her heart.

Truthfully, Shadowheart didn't know what to make of your personality at first. There's a silence to you. Maybe she should expect this of paladin so loyal. A Paladin of Torm, the unswerving enemy of injustice and corruption. You've always been a devout person, putting action and justice over everything. She hated it at first, a natural response for a Sharran, she figures.

Once she'd left it all behind, she could no longer use it as an excuse.

Truth be told, Shadowheart had always liked that aspect of you. Your devotion spoke to something greater than your oath or even your god. You had simply believed in the world, and inadvertently in her. You saved her from herself, her parents from her fate, and then some.

Your devotion to her as a lover isn't something so different. She often thinks you would swear yourself to her if you could. For Shadowheart, your affection is akin to worship. Every morning, the animals are tended and the flower bed is damp. You wake her mother up without a start, remind her of where she is without making her feel ashamed. You're good to her father, talk to him of worldly politics at the dinner table.

She has no complaints to make about you. Your love for her is tangible, something she can reach out and touch with her fingers.

She's unused to hearing your affections, though. Unused to hearing the words.

You lay together in the darkness. You're alone tonight, the entire cabin empty. Her mother and father have gone together on an outing together, after you accompanied them into the city. You've finally returned, put the horses up in the stable, and have to come to her side.

Shadowheart likes to lay in your arms. She lets herself curl into your weight, inhales the scent of your skin - earthy and rich as you let your arm fold around her waist. She lays ontop of you today, her whole body on yours like a blanket.

She looks up at you, her her tied loosely. She can practically feel how glowy her own expression is as she examines you - sees her reflection in your irises.

You let your hand lay over her back, reaching up underneath her nightwear to lay touch her skin. She gives you a look - her smile small, sincere. Your own expression is tired from travel, but fond. You insisted on taking her parents instead of letting them go alone.

She loves you more than she cares to admit.

"You're staring." She comments blithely "See something you like?"

Normally you'd flush a little at this, silent as you kiss her forehead or cheek. This time though, you use your fingers to brush the stray hairs from her face and nod.

"Yes, pretty girl," You hum, nonchalantly. Sagely. "I really do,"

She's so caught off guard, she can't help but gape. She lifts herself slightly to stare at you in shock.

"I've never heard you talk like that. Not once while we've been together. I mean.. you've called me beautiful but," Shadowheart stumbles, a fluttery feeling in her stomach she'd rather ignore "But it's never like that,"

"I think it more often that I say it,"

"And you always think to call me that?"

"Like I said, often," You look over he carefully, before your lips pull into an easy smile "You're pretty to the point I want to tell you all the time,"

Shadowheart is scarcely embarrassed by anything. She's a practiced woman at this point in her life. It's almost juvenile the way the words effect her. It's you saying it that makes all the difference. The way you've said it that makes her squirm. She lets out a little puff of air, silent as you laugh.

"Pretty girl," You repeat, warm and gentle and laced with exhaustion "You're the most beautiful girl I've ever met."

Shadowheart tucks her face into your neck, voice as soft a murmur as the sound of her own heart rings in her ears.

"Don't make a habit of talking like that," She huffs "I already know, but I suppose it doesn't hurt to hear."

You smile brightly. "I'm glad,"

❈ KARLACH ;

Karlach adores you, utterly and completely.

She's a little caught off-guard by it. Just when she'd convinced herself she couldn't love you more, you surprise her all over again. She'd probably harbored some sort of affection for you from the start of your adventure together, when you'd gone to bat for her and make sure Wyll didn't take her head as a trophy.

Since then, though - on your journey together, she'd taken careful notice of you. And gods, she likes you. You're very different she must admit. Where Karlach is strong and fiery, you're cool and calculated. She figured that's just what magic users are like, but Gale is pretty keen on correcting this assumption. You're a sorcerer, specifically, means the whole magic thing is in your composition and not your study.

Which explained why your head isn't the books like their local wizard. She does find you to be rather charming. You're good at talking your way in and out of almost everything, and you can outwit even the cleverest people on camp. You'd think it'd make you... annoying. Or cruel. And sure, you're a little calculating - but mostly, you're sweet.

Karlach's really never met anyone like you before. Her companionship is a little limited because before the Blood Wars, she was a rag-tag kid in the street of the city. But you grew up in a noble house, learned to charm and finesse your way through everything. You know how to read situations before they've even happened.

And you always explain them to her afterwards.

You make Karlach nervous, strangely. Which is wild! When it comes to socializing, she can get along with almost anyone. You though, you always see right through her. You know when she's using her own personality as a shield, and you always know just when to intervene. Or when to say nothing, and just let her sit with you.

The day she blew up at you, after defeating Gortash - you'd handled it better than she could've hoped. You were comforting, and kind, and let her feel it out without making her feel bad. With you, she felt hopeful despite knowing that the end was probably going to come for her eventually.

With you, she thinks she could endure even the end of the world.

You're in the city now, no longer sleeping in the woods. When everyone else has gone to bed, Karlach finds you in the study, a room attached to the main living quarters.

She knocks before entering. Your voice is soft as you tell her to come in. Dressed in your comfy night clothes, your hair damp from washing up. You're bent over the desk with a furrow in your brow that Karlach finds sweet.

"Hey, baby," She asks, her heart thumping soft "Hope I'm not disturbin' your research."

"Of course not," You reply back, encouraging her towards you "I'm actually due a break."

Wordlessly, you sit up from your chair, pointing for Karlach to sit. She follows through, a little confused as to what you're doing before you plop yourself back into her lap. She throws her head back in laughter.

"Don't know what I was expecting there," She giggles, arm curling around your waist "All cozy?"

"Mm," You melt yourself into her embrace, turning to look at her. Your eyes are soft, free hand cupping her face "I'm cozy. What's keeping you up, pretty girl?"

The words catch her off guard completely, her engine flaring from the heat.

"Shit, what's with that?" She glances down at you, smiling like the cheeky fucker you are "I can't get any redder, you know? It's making my engine burn."

"You like it, no?" Your voice is smooth, smug in a way that gets her hot "My pretty girl,"

Karlach stares at you as you say it. Traces the curve of your lips, the slight arch of your brow. Asses the weight and warmth of you as you lay your legs over her lap and feels her body start to react. She didn't think it was possible to feel so complete by someone, even among the impending doom at the end of the world.

With you it fades away to nothing. Permission to want freely, she had no idea she had wanted that so bad. She had no idea she could want more when you'd already given her so much.

It's nice to be greedy. A little greed is fine, after everything.

"If you keep talking to me like that, we're going to do a lot more than just sitting, you know?" She tells you seriously.

You smile and laugh but don't deny her "Only if you say please,"

❈ LAE'ZEL ;

The Githyanki do not fall in love.

It's a fact of the culture, a mark of their honor. Love is for the soft, tender fleshed species of the material planes. It does not suit warriors, not the ruthless githyanki who spend their entire lives training the sword and learning magic. Love had always been a flimsy concept to Lae'zel. To the point she'd never thought about it or cared too. For the gith, there is only pleasure and carnal desire. The foolishness of longing can only be harbored in the lesser existence of the outer-world. The world outside of her creche.

For a long time, this was true for Lae'zel. She had never intended her time in the material plane to weaken her in the ways in which it did. Or that the experience of a ghaik parasite trapped behind her eyes would will her into cooperation with lesser beings. In many ways egregious, unfathomable. In trying to rid herself of one parasite, she'd found herself another one - more intolerable and more consuming than the first.

You. What a foreign and remarkable bond. From the beginning she had told you the truth, that the gith do not love and she would not be able to love you. Though she could admit passion, admit admiration for your courage, admit possession - she could not admit love. She knew nothing of it.

Over the course of your journey, you'd managed to prove her wrong. Slowly stripped bare of the identity she'd made her life around, you stripped Lae'zel down to her soul. Her most honored solider, and most formidable ally. When the time came, you'd told her to do what she must, to liberate her people. That you'd be there when she returned.

That you'd wait for her.

Months apart with few visits in between meant that each time Lae'zel sees you must make every minute count. Enjoying your body and indulging in carnal pleasures is only so much of that. What Lae'zel looks forward too most, she must admit, is the gentleness of your touch whenever she comes back to Fae'run.

Soft warm whispers among the indulgent plush of bed sheets and candles. A room that smells like lavender and oak, prayer books and scripture littered on the desk. A cleric of Bahamut, and a soul strong as steel.

But this, her head resting in your lap as you stroke her hair so carefully, is what she's missed most of all. No doubt she's going soft.

"Chk. You are smitten by the text in front of you as if you have forgotten of my return,"

You look down at Lae-zel with a laugh, carefully placing said book down on the bedside table. The voice you speak with her is different from her own. Tender fleshed even in your speech, you let her curl herself into you.

A vulnerable position, open to whatever may come.

"I'm sorry, pretty girl," You hum. The words practically startle her "I don't mean to neglect you. It was an interesting passage."

"Pretty...It is true among the githyanki, I am among the finest of their ranks," She replies, turning herself towards you - getting comfortable "Yet still, something stirs."

"Are you embarrassed?" You reply, delighted as her frown deepens. Before she has a chance to argue with you, you lean down to press your lips against hers briefly "How sweet of you."

"I do not get embarrassed," She insists, scowling as you begin to giggle at her "It was merely unexpected."

"You're beautiful to me, Lae'zel." You hum, stroking her cheek gently as she continues to lay herself across. Your eyes are tender and lidded. That look of obsession she recalled from the months prior returned in full, and no longer hidden. Unlike your other mortal companions, or the pale elf - there is nothing hidden in your words. No agenda "More beautiful than anyone else. At least to me. Getting to look at you so closely is a gift."

She softens, her hand gripping yours resting on her chest

"When it is over," She says seriously, a solemness to her voice "I will return to you. This I swear. Without you, the liberation of my people would be no less then a dream,"

You return her smile in kind.

"My pretty, wonderful girl," You hum. She loves you. She thinks she understands it now "I know you'll return to me, nailo. You always keep your promises."

"Yes," She says, an unfamiliar emotion overwhelming her "I will not forsake all we have promised."

The affection in your voice shakes Lae'zel to her core. Initial abrasion fades only into warmth. It's not so bad to hear, even if it is tender fleshed.

▸ a/n ; the word reader uses for lae'zel is elvish for swift winds!! reader is meant to be sort of a book worm so you do not need to picture them as a elf and more of a linguist.

this is the most substantial thing i've written in the last few weeks so commentary is very appreciated. i'd be willing to do a minthara and halsin addition to this eventually if anyone is interested!!

anyways, baldurs gate companions i love u. reblogs so appreciated !

[easy-there-leftovers]

Magnum Opus (Prologue)

When an MIT prodigy on their gap year is contacted by the FBI regarding potential involvement in a series of murders in Washington D.C., she must now cooperate to uncover how paintings are mysteriously appearing at the crime scenes. (Written with Season 1-4 Spencer in mind, but the timeline could be anywhere pre-season 12. No mentions of past cases)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Artist! reader|cw: Canon-typical violence|word count: 700 words

Notes: I made up a bunch of chemicals and their chemical properties up so shhhh!! Also, I'm not American, I have no contextual understanding of the distance of one place to another. The US is large enough.

Also on Ao3!!

Series Masterlist

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"Muses are the silent artists of our souls, whispering inspiration into the canvas of our thoughts, painting the colors of creativity with the brushstrokes of imagination." - Author Unknown.

“Seven months ago, one freelance architect named James Carter aged 42 was murdered in his own home in Newton Massachusetts. The victim was posed like the painting placed at the foot of his own couch. All forms of ID on him were missing.” 

JJ made her way from the map inside the meeting room to the screen to present pictures of the crime scene. All other agents made their way inside, with Garcia jotting down notes, as they listened and took their respective places.

“Four months after that, indie artist Daniel Lopez, aged 25, was also found dead in her apartment with another painting and missing ID. Posed just like the girl in it too. Autopsy revealed similar entry and exit wounds through the chest.” 

Images of the victims’ wounds that have already been cleaned up were exposed to the camera. Wounds that could’ve been missed if investigations weren’t conducted made themselves notable as Emily and Spencer opened up their files.

“Ballistics?” 

JJ shook her head at Morgan's question. “No bullets were found.”

“The unsub probably killed them somewhere secluded, then placed them back in their home.” Emily looked to Spencer, only to see him already getting up towards the screen.

“Look at the way they’re dressed. Clothes fitted like that aren’t meant to be worn without the intention of meeting someone.”  Spencer motioned to their clothes. “They didn’t intend to go just anywhere looking like that.”

“Yeah, well neither did this man.” JJ then presented a picture of another victim, another male, another painting, posed in another home. She then turned to redress the rest of the team. “Found yesterday with similar signatures. The only difference is that he was actually staged in a vacant apartment. Everything in there was left by the previous owners. Still no ID on him.”

The resident team genius furrowed his eyebrows at the information, turning to see what the others thought. “Kills both males and females…”

“Victims were found with their clothes on. Dressed to impress but no signs of torture, no experimentation,” Hotch lifted the pictures nearer to his face. “Doesn’t look like he’s interested in either.”

“A serial killer with no sexual preference?” Emily raised her brow at that.

“Wouldn’t be the first.” Spencer replied, looking closer at the paintings in his own file. “Although the subjects in the paintings look exactly like the victims they’re placed on. It brings up the question of which one came first, the person depicted in the painting, or the painting itself…”

“Says here forensics found no prints anywhere but did find traces of  5-dur– durasta—”

“5-durastalene. Also known as ‘Lunacite.’” Spencer corrected Rossi.

“Actually, this synthetic compound is a little on the newer side, a compound that was originally developed by an MIT student for their dissertation in the Chemical Engineering program. I tried figuring out what the naming convention she used was but she didn’t give an explanation on that part. I assumed it could’ve been one out of a number of references, ranging from an anagram of—”

“How new are we talking?” Hotch interrupted, but deeply thankful that someone on the team seemed to have a lead.

“13 months, 2 weeks, and 5 days new. But it’s weird.” Spencer punctuates his statement by flicking through the papers. 

“The compound shouldn’t be commercially available anywhere and it’s meant to make other materials resistant to corrosion. No one should be using it in paint, let alone processing it.” The team let his words ring in their head before Hotch broke the silence.

“Garcia, look for MIT graduates who have worked with Lunacite and a background in fine arts.”

“Already way ahead of you chief, and deliciously, only one name fits the bill in every angle you can have it.” Their tech analyst who had been typing away then placed her laptop pointedly and turned it onto the round table for everyone to see. Everyone leans forward, but the BAU’s resident pretty boy is the one who says the name out loud.

“Y/N L/N.” On the screen is a put-together picture of you on various digital scans of your passport, driver’s license, doctoral degrees in Chemical Engineering and Anthropology, and undergrad degrees in both Philosophy and Sociology.

“Watch out, pretty boy. You may have just found your match.” Morgan’s comment is greeted with a few snickers, much to Spencer’s dismay.

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

[fallatyourfeet]

Swanky Suits (Arthur x Female Reader)

One Shot

Credit to Gif creator- sorry I don't know who you are

Summary: Arthur is taken completely by surprise after being sent by Ada to get a new suit

Word count: 1322

Warnings: Awkward adorable Arthur. He gets a bit nervous and anxious.

Author's Note: This was only supposed to be around 500-700 words. Big fail. Also, can't believe I've posted two fics in a week. What the hell is happening to me.

Please feel free to send me a message/comment/ask, I would love to know what you think.

If you like this, please feel free to visit my blog and take a look around! You can find my masterlist in my bio.

This place seemed far too swanky for Arthur, he felt completely out of place, but Ada had insisted he come. “Trust me Arthur, they’re the best tailors in London… you won’t be disappointed.” Looking at himself in the mirror out front of the change room, he had to agree. The pants and shirt were the nicest things he had ever worn, and he hadn’t even tried on the jacket yet. But still, no matter how much money he had lining his pockets, this place just felt a little too fancy for a boy from Small Heath. Maybe Tommy could get away with it, but him? Not a chance.

Walking up behind him, jacket in hand, came the attendant who helped him with his fittings last week, his posh London accent and manner doing nothing to ease Arthur’s inner monologue. Walking in a circle around him, he looked him up and down and nodded, quite pleased with himself, “The shirt and pants are a perfect fit, they won’t need any alterations at all.”

Moving behind him, he held open the jacket so Arthur could put his arms in and slipped it up over his shoulders. Then walking back around, he adjusted the lapels and buttoned it up, before stepping back, looking slightly disappointed, “The jacket is going to need some tweaking.” Placing a finger to his chin, the attendant sighed with thought. “It doesn’t need much… I might get our seamstress to have a look, she’s out the back. Otherwise, our tailor’s back tomorrow if you want to wait.” Unsure how to gauge Arthur’s expression, he added, “She’s very good… you won’t be disappointed.”

Arthur sniffed, visibly rolling his eyes as he adjusted the jacket, had this guy been talking to Ada? Shrugging his shoulders, he replied, “Yeah, alright, let her ‘ave a look.”

The attendant disappeared out back, leaving him in front of the mirror, and he couldn’t help but admire the cut and feel of the fabric. Arthur knew he was hardly posh and refined like ninety nine percent of the shops cliental, but he knew a bloody good suit when he saw one. And this was one of the best.

Moving to the edge of the store counter, he was flicking through a collection of swatches, taken completely off guard when to the side of him, someone spoke, “Arthur? ….. Arthur Shelby?”

An oddly familiar voice which Arthur couldn’t quite place, spoke his name. A voice from his childhood, only much more mature than he remembered. The edges to the Birmingham accent were a little softer, the volume somehow fuller, richer. A voice smoother than honey. ‘Hmmm’, he thought quite innocently, ‘a man could get used to a sound like that.’

Turning towards the voice, he almost jumped when he saw you. Dropping the swatches to the ground his cheeks turned an adorable shade of pink, standing straight as an arrow like a naughty child being caught in an act of mischief. He recognised you straight away. Even if he were an eighty-year-old man that hadn’t seen you in sixty years, he’d still know exactly who you were. His childhood crush. The girl who made his heart fly whenever she was near. The girl to which no other could compare. The girl he wanted to grow up and marry… And the girl who up and moved to London with her family when he was barely fifteen. Moved before he even found the courage to ask her out.

Arthur spoke your name, “YN?” It was almost a whisper. ‘Fuckin hell,’ he thought, you were even more beautiful than he remembered.

You smiled in response, and if his cheeks were pink before, they must be bright scarlet by now. Not sure what to do or say, he fumbled over his words, before blurting out, “You… you’re the seamstress?”

Lifting your hands, you laughed a little, waving the measuring tape and pin cushion they held, “I am… and these are the weapons of my trade.” Moving towards him, you placed them down on the counter, taking in every inch of his face, turning his poor scarlet cheeks crimson. “It’s good to see you, Arthur. My goodness, it must be what…? Twenty years?”

You moved even closer. Slipping your hands inside his jacket you went about your work, pinning together the alterations when your hand brushed against his side. It almost made him freeze, and he thanked God that it wasn’t his pants that needed altering, your close proximity making it hard for him to think. But somehow, he managed, “Uh, yeah. It’s been exactly twenty years.”

Looking up at him, you smiled the sweetest smile, your eyes looking strangely humbled that he knew exactly how long it had been since he saw you last. And it did nothing to ease the building flutters in his chest. He was a grown man, and a few minutes in your presence had him acting like an awkward teenager again. Arthur’s thoughts were a mess, scrambling to find something else to say, “So, ah, how long you been workin’ here?”

Biting your lip, you looked at the ring on your finger, before answering, sadness gathering in your eyes and voice, ��Since my husband left for France.”

Arthur wanted to kick himself for asking, needing no more explanation to realise your husband did not return. And his heart broke for you. The thought of you hurting, in any shape or form, made him uneasy, made him want to reach out and comfort you. Placing a hand to your arm, he gave it a gentle squeeze. No words needed to be exchanged, you knew what he was trying to say.

With a small nod, you smiled softly, distracting yourself by getting back to the task at hand, making a few quick adjustments with your pins and measuring tape. Seemingly satisfied, you took a step back to make a full inspection, announcing quietly, “That should do it.”

Slipping the jacket from his shoulders, you placed it over your arm before fixing the collar of his shirt, your fingertips creating a trail of goosebumps when they brushed along his neck, and that was when he knew he was in trouble. Just one touch against his bare neck and all those buried teenage feelings came rushing back, hitting him like a tonne of bricks. Never to be suppressed again. And he knew himself well enough to realise that if he didn’t act on those feelings today, he was going to end up with a whole god damned wardrobe full of swanky suits. When what he really wanted was you.

Breaking through his trainwreck of thoughts, you touched his elbow, your eyes searching for something in his, “Arthur, this will only take me ten minutes… will you wait? Or” You paused, your expression changing the slightest bit, “Or did you want to come back tomorrow?”

With a deep breath, Arthur cleared his throat, putting his hands in his pockets to hide the fact they were trembling. “Ah, yeah, I can wait.” Feeling sick to the stomach, he shuffled on his feet, taking his hands out to run them through his hair, before returning them to his pockets, “Um, when do you knock off from here?” Clearing his throat again, Arthur worked hard to keep eye contact, fuck you were the loveliest thing he had ever seen. “I mean, if you want to, we could catch up… I could take you out for dinner or… or somethin.”

You answered with a smile. It was so sweet and warm, and genuine. And he dared to hope that just maybe you weren’t going to turn him down. With his heart beating in his throat, he waited for your reply. It was just a few fleeting moments, a few short moments that felt like an eternity. But your answer came, and he could barely believe his ears. “Yes, Arthur. Thank you. Dinner or somethin’ would be lovely.”

[vodika-vibes]

I need to see Papa Wolffe doting on his child rn—

A New Addition

Summary: Wolffe gets to meet his newborn several hours after she's born.

Pairing: Commander Wolffe x Reader

Word Count: 700

Warnings: Discussions of mother's dying in child birth (what do the clones know about natborn births, after all)

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni

A/N: So. Not exactly him doting on his kid, but a first introduction is not a bad way for the story to go, right?

You stir awake at the light knock on the door, and you smile at the familiar face that pokes into the room. Familiar, in part, because Wolffe has millions of identical brothers, but also because he’s Wolffe, and you’d recognize your riduur even if he was dressed identically to his brothers.

“Hey, can I come in?”

A warm smile crosses your face, “You don’t have to ask, love.” You reply gently.

He slips into the room, silently closing the door behind him, “Just making sure.” Wolffe crosses the room and takes a seat next to you, and then he immediately reaches out and smooths some hair out of your face, “How are you feeling, cyare?”

“Exhausted.” You reply with a small smile, “But also, really good.” You lean into his touch, “How are you?”

“I wish I had been here for you.”

You hum softly, “Not your fault.”

“I still feel bad,” He takes your hand in his and brings your joined hands to his lips to press a light kiss against your fingers, his gaze is locked on the small cradle next to your hospital bed, “Is that her?”

You laugh softly, “It is. Our Ellie.” You extend your fingers to brush against his cheek, “Go on and introduce yourself.”

He starts, “Am I allowed?”

A slightly louder laugh falls from you, “She’s your daughter, Wolffe. Of course you can.”

He releases your hand and stands to walk around the bed. Once he’s at the small cradle he just stares into it for a moment, “She’s so…small.”

“She’s only a couple of hours old, riduur.”

“The Tubies never looked so small back on Kamino. Is she healthy?”

“She is. Just small. My fault, I’m afraid.” You reply with a small smile. And your smile grows as you watch him reach into the cradle to scoop the infant into his arms. 

“She looks like you,” Wolffe murmurs as he cradles Ellie in his arms.

“Really? I think she looks like you.” He turns to sit on the edge of the bed, bringing Ellie into reach. She’s still asleep. “Those Fett genes run true,” You joke quietly, as you brush a light finger against Ellie’s dark cheek, and then up through her dark curls.

“My coloring, maybe.” Wolffe allows, “but she has your features. A perfect mix of us.” He pauses, “Cyare,” He admits, his voice quiet, “I don’t know anything about being a parent-”

“Shh. Neither do I. We’ll learn together.” You smile at the baby, and then up at Wolffe, “We’re going to be fine, I know it.”

“Well, if you say so then it must be true.” Wolffe teases as he leans in and kisses your forehead, “My brothers and General Koon are in the lobby, can I take her to meet them?”

You hum thoughtfully, “Why don’t you give Ellie to me, and then you can bring them in here to meet her?” You offer.

Wolffe flashes a small grin, “Even better idea, I know they’re worried about you too. Cody made the mistake of asking General Kenobi about natborn childbirth, and they were convinced that you were going to die.”

“Well, not on Coruscant.” You admit with a tired smile as you take your baby from him.

Wolffe blinks, “Wait, what?”

“Women generally don’t die in childbirth on Coruscant unless something goes really wrong.” You clarify as you adjust Ellie on your chest, “If my midwife had been concerned, I would have reached out to the temple for help, Wolffe. So, no need to worry.”

“...okay. I’m going to go and get the others.” He kisses your forehead once more, and then he ducks his head to kiss Ellie’s head, before he circles the room again, and steps into the hallway.

Only minutes later, the room is flooded with people. General Koon immediately takes a place next to the bed to quietly talk to you while Wolffe shows Ellie off to his brothers.

And when they leave an hour later, Ellie’s picture has been taken a dozen times, and she’s been officially named as the Wolfpack’s mascot. And also the mascot for most of the other Battalions as well.

After all, she is the first niece.

[diorcities]

ho portato le stelle a letto

req: I'm ovulating and the only thing I can think of is cockwarming w haechan while counting his moles because I'm horny but also emotional and I just wanna give that man a baby🌋🔥

pairing: haechan x reader

genre: smut kinda, fluff

content: cockwarming, domestic love, nothing else actually.

wc: 700+

an: thank u anon !! sorry for the delay, i was really invested on strawberries and cigarettes, hope you like it <3 we just reach 800 followers aaaaaa tysm

masterlist — message me !

you hear haechan curse his reflection in the mirror in front of the bed. he's staring at his face, contracted in an annoyed grimace. “what's wrong?” you ask, stopping your reading. “a pimple just showed up,” he breathes.

you leave the book on your nightstand, and get up from the mattress, approaching him from behind. the fresh fragrance due to his recent shower reaches your nose, gently inhaling the soft skin of the nape of his neck. haechan, let you rock his body side to side, as your hands caress his chest. peaking over his shoulder, you look at him. “it's ok, honey,” you whisper.

haechan paid little to no attention to your words, as he's very invested in studying his face in hopes of finding other beauty marks. you stay in silence, knowing how much he cares about his appearance. “we have matching pimples,” you notice, grabbing his chin and making him look at you. a small laugh leaves his lips. “we do,” he recognizes. “since we both have pimples…,” you comment, “shall we do a skincare routine?”.

a small nod makes you go to the restroom. the moment you return to the bedroom, haechan is sitting on the bed, his head resting on the headboard. you make your way to him, sitting with legs crossed in front of him. “should we make each other skin care?” he suggests, watching you smile widely.

“yes.”

his hands go to your waist, getting closer to him and making you sit on his lap. your hands work on the pimple patches. haechan does the same, taking out a pair of them. his free hand going to your chin, to have a better look at your face. you hear him murmur a song. he's concentrated, as he bites his lips, trying to put the patch on the right spot. once he's done, you proceed to do the same.

“where should i put it?” you ask him, brushing his hair off his forehead. he points a finger to a spot in his cheek, asserting the pimple, making you wonder how much he stared at it to know exactly where it was. the pair of round circles adorn his cheeks once you finished. “now, ten minutes,” you inform. “make yourself comfortable, ma'lady”. 

the book on your nightstand was no longer interesting, as you found yourself studying your boyfriend's face, wishing that he could see himself through your eyes, so he could finally realize how gorgeous he was, with or without those imperfections that made him rare. “you're staring, weirdo,” you hear him murmuring. his eyes still close. “i'm not,” you deny, looking elsewhere.

“horrible, isn't it?” he asks, opening his eyes. you look at him, immediately knowing what he is referring to. “of course no, haechan,” you whisper. “perfect.” you watch him shake his head, slowly. “perfect to me.”

“how about everyone else?” he asks. “well…, perfection is subjective,” you point out, “it's impossible to be perfect for everyone since there are different standards,” you reply. “we're growing and changing, it's normal that our bodies change too.” 

“it's not the end of the world,” you whisper, rubbing your thumb in his hand. you see him detach his head from the headboard and sit upright, face to face, inches away from you. “it's not the end of the world,” he repeats, before going in for a kiss. your eyes opening as soon as you notice the bulge under you. looking at him in awe. 

“what can i say? i adore when you go smarty pants.”

“smarty pants?” you asks, while his hands go to the waistband of your pajamas. he tossed them off right away. “mmm… makes me hard.” you laughed. “but we're doing skin care right now, remember?”. “you're right.” 

he let you go when you got up to throw away the patches, returning with some tissues and lotions. you sit in the same place as you were before. haechan pretends to read your book, opening his eyes in surprise when he feels you pulling his underwear to free his length. 

“i thought we were doing skin care.”

“i mean, we can still do.” before sliding his cock inside you. “so…, this contains niacinamide and this one retinol,” you inform. “retinol.” “okay.”

he starts applying the lotion in your face, gently rubbing circles waiting for your skin to absorb the product. your fingers did the same, making sure to be extra careful. your attention being diverted from the main target. finding yourself tracing paths in his skin.

haechan noticed it, and remained silent.

his moles forming constellations. a whole galaxy in his cheeks. and neck. more hiding under his shirt. splashing his body. how many could you count, before losing track? how many of them are, and how many of them your eyes don't know yet?

“ho portato le stelle a letto,” you quote the book you were reading. you hear him giggle. “what does that mean?” he asks while rocking you in his arms.

i took the stars to bed.

[yanderu-deredere]

I got a semi hilarious/sad request idea, hear me out. How would Liam, Fujio, Ryouta, and Ryuu react to a darling that rejects them during their confession? Darling is sobbing while she tells them about being confessed to/asked out on dates as a cruel joke. She insists there's no way they'd be interested in a weirdo like her, this has to be another elaborate joke or a lie. The yanderes which impulsively kidnapped darling are going what??? You're handcuffed to the bed and that's what you're worried about? Just how low is your self esteem girl

a/n: honestly this is a whole ass relatable mood LOL i fucking love this so much

hope i understood clearly but i wrote it so that darling rejects them, they kidnap darling, darling has a break down, chaos ensues LMAO i love love love this request so thank you for sending it in!

warning: female pronouns as requested, around 700 words each yandere, mentioned bullying, kidnapping, mentions of knocking reader out

It wasn't enough; stalking you wasn't enough, watching you from far away wasn't enough, all of it wasn't enough. His greed for you was hot, was growing, was finally bubbling over.

He needed you with him immediately, needed to know that you'd belong to him and only him, nobody else.

He would ask you out, would try to approach you as someone normal, someone who happened to want to ask you out on a lovely date.

The thought of a first date with you made him feel warm.

And, if that didn't work out, well, there would always be a plan B, a plan C, plan D. Whatever he needed to do to make you his.

liam arieh ★ profile

Liam laughed at your words, all soft and huffing, before his brain finally processed it all. You had said no to dinner. You had rejected him.

You didn't want to belong to him.

"Wait, what?" That signature cocky smile of his was quickly wiped off of his face, replaced with a look of both confusion and slight irritation.

Not the best approach when it came to you, apparently, because you quickly frowned and curled into yourself a bit "I-I'm sorry, I can't go out with you."

"I don't want to—"

"You don't want to?" His feelings for you seemed to broil in his chest, creating an uncomfortable pressure that he didn't exactly want to acknowledge, much less accept.

Instead of clarifying, you just apologised again and scurried off, probably scared in the face of Liam's anger. Made sense but it didn't make him any less angrier.

He stood there by himself, fists clenching and unclenching beside him.

If you didn't want to, so be it.

When you awoke, you tried to remember exactly what had happened right before you fell asleep.

You were at home and then what?

The gap in your memories worried you enough that, for a while, you just sat there, eyebrows furrowed. Then, you realised, you had your arms tied behind you with a silken something and you were in a room that you didn't recognise.

It was a gorgeous room, well decorated with reds and golds that made it look opulent without being too gaudy. But it was also a room you'd never been in before.

Your heart started thumping wildly in your chest.

You wanted to leave but, unfortunately, your legs were also tied. Specifically, they were tied in a way that made it impossible for you to stretch your them out, much less stand.

Before you could truly panic, a door opened. Your head snapped to that direction and you were relieved to see Liam.

"W-What's going on?" You asked, voice a little small and pathetic. You were relieved to see him but that didn't change the fact that you were a bit too scared and confused.

Liam just gave you an easy smile that would've normally calmed you but, instead, made you even more nervous "Oh, angel, I've taken you here because you've made a grave mistake."

You were only further confused.

So, as Liam approached you, he continued to explain "See, when I asked you to go on a lovely date with me, when I asked you to be mine, you'd replied that you didn't want to."

"Angel, you're not allowed to 'not want to'." He then cupped your cheek when he got close enough, that smile on his face turning more and more into something you couldn't recognise "I wanted to take the easy route, make you mine slowly, over time. But, unfortunately—"

"Wait, wh-when you asked me out... you meant it?" Your eyes watered as you looked up at this man you'd held feelings for "It wasn't—It wasn't a joke?"

Liam's face suddenly fell. That was certainly not the response he'd expected. He wasn't stupid, of course. He knew that kidnapping you wasn't exactly ethical. He'd expected you to fight back or something. Instead, it was this.

"What do you mean a joke?"

You cried more and more until the tears fell, caressing your cheeks "Wh-When—Before—Pe-People used to ask me out as a j-joke. They used to—And I didn't think— I mean, me? Why me? Wh-When you're—You're you!"

Normally, Liam would've preened when met with your praise. However, instead, he felt rather rankled in the face of both your self-effacing comments and the little glimpse of your past.

He moved to cup both your cheeks in his hands, his thumbs wiping away your tears "I don't want to fucking hear that from you, hmmm?"

You stiffened a little, expression showing exactly how bewildered you felt. Instead, Liam continued "I love you, my sweet angel. You are the light at the end of this fucked tunnel and I love you enough to forcibly make you mine."

"So, I don't want to hear you saying anything self-deprecating anymore, okay?" He asked in a rather faux nice tone but, before you could even answer, he nodded your head for you.

"Good girl." That easy smile returned to his face but the way he looked at you, eyes dark as his gaze ran up and down your body, was anything but easy "Now, I should free you from your little predicament but why don't I punish you a little first?"

fujio watanabe ★ profile

Fujio didn't even seem put off at all by your words. In fact, he looked like he expected it. Instead of anger, you were met with an unnerving nonchalance. “A’ight.”

And, really truly, he had expected it. He had known since he’d met you that you’d be different than any other woman that he’d met before, and he knew that meant there might be problems with making you his.

First obvious problem: he didn’t exactly know how to make anyone, much less someone like you, his.

He’d always enjoyed the impermanence of one night stands and fuck buddies. He’d never wanted anyone desperately, insistently, like he’d wanted you and it threw him for a rather enjoyable loop.

So, he expected a bit of a road bump and planned accordingly.

“I-I’m really sorry.” You apologised again and, haltingly, you moved towards the door “I-I should probably go…”

Fujio let you go, of course. But only because he knew that you wouldn’t be able to go.

When you tried for the doorknob, you were stopped by one of those chain locks. Your eyebrows furrowed but you reached for the chain lock to undo it. Except, it wouldn’t be undone. Like it was locked in. And there was a second like it a bit further up the door.

“F-Fujio?” You glanced back at him, and he just continued smirking at you.

He took one step towards you “Sorry, forgot to tell ya’. I don’t take no for an answer.”

You pressed your back against the door, eyes darting here and there around Fujio’s rather small apartment in an attempt to find an escape route “I-I don’t understand.”

That was expected too. You wouldn’t understand his obsession over you. No one would, not even himself. He didn’t get why it was you, why it had to be this way. But he gave up on fighting against the feeling a long time ago.

He knew he wanted you, in any and every way he could have you. Not just as a fuck buddy, not just as a girlfriend; he wanted you wholly to belong to him.

So, he just continued approaching you, smirk turning less nonchalant and more predatory “That’s okay. You don’t got’ta understand, baby.”

“You’re taking this joke way too far!” You finally snapped, your anxiety hitting the roof.

That was when Fujio stopped in his tracks, his body only a step away from you. That predatory grin widened into something else, something crazed and unhinged. “Huh?”

Then, his fist slammed onto the door right next to your head, making you flinch “Is that what this is to you? A joke?”

You immediately shook your head, your entire body trembling with nerves “N-No! I-I—I thought that you were j-joking! W-Weren’t you?”

Oh. His broad grin fell into a frown. “Jokin’ ‘bout what?”

“A-About asking me out.” Your gaze suddenly fell to the floor, your face flushed like you were too embarrassed to look Fujio in the eye “P-People do that a lot. Ask me out a-as a joke.”

“I-I mean, makes sense, right? I-I’m me and y-you’re like so out of my league that it’s funny.” You added, tucking your hair behind your ear as you continued to fidget in place.

The fiery anger he had about being treated as a joke was replaced with an even hotter anger for the people that had treated you as a joke.

“Fuck’s sake. Who the fuck cares about their opinion?” Fujio spat the words out like they were bitter, the anger in him still boiling. “My opinion is the only thing that should matter to that pretty little head of yours.”

“And my opinion is that you’re mine. And nobody, not even you, can insult what belongs to me.”

You grew even more flustered by his words. Still, you nodded, happy to figure out that he was so serious about you and that your feelings for him were returned so fiercely.

Fujio chuckled a bit, pressing his body a bit more against yours “Damn, baby, what the fuck? Why are you agreeing to that?”

“Not that I’m complaining.” Fujio quickly added, that grin returning to his lips “I wouldn’t give you a choice anyhow.”

ryouta watanabe ★ profile

On any normal day, Ryouta’s face was always somewhat emotionless. He’d furrow his brow a little, maybe a corner of his lip would twitch up or down, but, really, they were such small changes that they were almost negligible.

Today, that impassiveness felt more frigid than flat.

“I see.” He nodded easily, voice mostly monotone with a hint of something you couldn’t quite put your finger on “Understandable.”

You just frowned at him, both anxious about his reaction and heartbroken that he’d replied so casually “I-I’m really sorry—”

“No, I should be the one to apologise.”

Before you could really ask him to clarify, Ryouta was suddenly pressing something against your face that smelled slightly sweet but artificially so. You jerkily tried to move your head away but, before you could do much else, you were overcome with sleep.

When you woke up, you tried to recall exactly what had happened. You came over to Ryouta’s apartment to hang out, he confessed his feelings to you and then—

You bolted upright, concerned expression on your face as you looked around. You were in Ryouta’s room, laying on his bed. You tried to get up from his bed but, immediately, you were pulled back by your wrist.

You looked down. A thick fur-lined cuff was wrapped around your wrist and attached to the headboard of the bed.

You quickly looked up at the only light source in the room just as Ryouta turned his gamer chair to face you. His computer set up was right in front of his bed but you knew for a fact that it hadn’t been there before.

Instead of the emotionless expression you expected, there was a bit of guiltiness on Ryouta’s face “You’re awake… I’m sorry it had to come to this but you have to understand.”

You only continued to stare at him, confused and bewildered, so he continued “My love for you— It’s much stronger than normal love. I-I know you rejected me yesterday but, I’m sorry to say, I can’t take no for an answer.”

Suddenly, your eyes watered. Ryouta expected this. It would’ve been hard for anyone to accept being cuffed to a bed and kidnapped by someone they’d considered a friend.

“S-So your confession wasn’t a joke?”

Ryouta’s previous calm immediately turned to one of alarm. He had expected the tears, yes, but he hadn’t at all expected your question.

“Of course not.” He immediately answered, noticeable frown clear on his face “Please don’t treat my feelings like a joke.”

Your crying worsened and Ryouta quickly hurried over to you. He stood by the bed, unsure whether or not he had the right to comfort you or if you’d feel uncomfortable being touched by your kidnapper.

“I-I—Before! Before! When people asked me out! Th-They—It was always a joke so I thought—” You practically hiccupped out, your cuff too short to let your one hand wipe away your tears so you used your free hand desperately.

Ryouta scowled and it was something so dark and angry, something so obviously fury personified, that it made you pause. It was definitely the most expressive that he’d ever been in your presence.

He seemed to quickly realise that because he half-turned his body away from you, his hand coming up to cover his face “Sorry, I—”

He sounded like he didn’t exactly know what to say, like he was floundering for a way to respond to the absolutely heartbreaking fact that you’d just given him. Another first, for sure.

Then, he fully turned to you and knelt in front of you, his hands settling on the tops of your thighs, his touch firm but gentle “I love you, darling. I love you to the point of burning.”

“Please take me seriously when I say that there’s nobody I’ve ever loved close to as much as I love you. And, if you don’t think highly of yourself, think highly of me. I chose you to love.” Ryouta then reached up with one hand and wiped away your tears.

His touch was soft, almost fleeting, and it made you want to lean into him and collapse into his arms. Still, you responded with a pathetic little sniffle and an eager nod.

Ryouta made a mental note to talk to you about your unconditional acceptance of him. Though he was glad, there was no way your odd reaction to being kidnapped was normal.

ryuunosuke yamamoto ★ profile

The bright broad grin on Ryuu’s face didn’t falter at all when you rejected his confession. In fact, it seemed to only widen “Huh?”

You curled into yourself a little, self-conscious in the face Ryuu’s odd reaction “I-I’m sorry—”

Ryuu didn’t understand. The thought seemed to bounce around in his head, unable to really truly settle down where he could process it.

The entire time he’d known you, the entire time he’d loved you, he had thought that you returned his feelings. If not, why did you lean into him so much? Why did you laugh at all his jokes? Why did you treat him so kindly, so warmly and sweetly.

This wasn’t you! You were in love with him too and he knew it! It was why he confessed. He knew you’d return his feelings and then you could be his, just like how he was yours.

“I think—I think you should think about it some more!” Ryuu spoke with a hint of desperation, that grin still broad but definitely turning a tinge forced.

“Actually, I-I think I should go—” You made a small halting wave before turning to leave.

Ryuu’s heart suddenly started galloping a hundred miles an hour, panic settling into his chest. He couldn’t let you leave! He needed to clear up this misunderstanding! He needed to understand why you were lying to him.

Before you knew it, Ryuu's arm was suddenly wrapped around the front of your neck, pressing you close to him. At first, you were just confused. And then, when you started getting lightheaded rather quickly, you started panicking.

“It’s okay! This is all just a miscommunication!” He muttered into your ear, his breath warm against your cheek “We’ll sort this out, you’ll see! The secret to any good relationship is proper communication—”

You couldn’t even respond to him before you promptly fainted.

When you woke up, you recognized the room you were in. It was Ryuu’s living room. You were sitting up on his couch. He had choked you out and you had passed out. You tried to reach up to touch your neck but you couldn’t actually move your arms.

You were tied up. Just your hands. Your feet were free but one of your ankles was cuffed. You couldn’t see exactly where the chain led but you knew it wasn’t very long.

“R-Ryuu?”

You heard thumping and he emerged from the kitchen, spatula in hand and frilly pink apron on over his clothes from earlier. “You’re awake!”

He disappeared into the kitchen again and you heard a bit of scuffling before he came back out, apron gone and spatula put down somewhere.

There was a bright smile on his face as he approached you and sat in front of you on the couch “How are you feeling?”

“U-Uhm, good?” You answered hesitantly before looking around “What exactly is g-going on?”

“You—There was a bit of miscommunication between us so I brought you back to my place for dinner while we talk it out.” Ryuu answered happily “I just don’t understand why you’d reject my confession when I know you love me too.”

You flushed at his blunt words but you couldn’t find it in you to lie and deny them “O-Oh, because—I really want to be with you Ryuu.”

Ryuu’s grin only broadened and you could make out a soft pink flush under the plethora of band aids on his cheeks.

“But—” You continued and his grin faltered “I-I don’t want to accept your joke confession.”

His grin fell into a bewildered expression, his eyebrows furrowing as if you’d said the weirdest thing he’d ever heard “What do you mean joke confession?”

You opened your mouth to answer but he gripped your upper arms and suddenly got way too close to you “My confession isn’t a joke. Don’t say something like that.”

Your eyes watered “B-But I don’t understand. Why would you ask me out?”

“Because I love you.” He shrugged like it was the simplest thing in the world.

You fell forward, your face burrowed into the crook of his neck “N-No���I—I don’t deserve to be loved. Someone like y-you asking me out—When you’re so out of my league—It’s laughable!”

You couldn’t see it but Ryuu scowled, the expression looking so out of place on his face. Still, despite the anger he felt at your very incorrect words, he wrapped his arms around you and pressed a kiss to the crown of your head.

“That’s not true at all, baby. I love you with all my heart and I won’t ever let you go. I promise.”

Somehow, you found yourself believing every word.

[meowzfordayz]

i hear your heart, feel your soul, see your body; i love you

Kamado Tanjirou x Reader

Word Count: ~700

CW: implied body insecurity

Emergency Request Fulfilled: May I suggest Tanjiro with a chubby!reader? I keep being told I’m “too fat” or that I “need to lose weight” and it’s been crushing my self esteem and my confidence, if it’s too much, you can disregard this!

“Sweetheart, what’s on your mind?” Tanjirou asks carefully, watching your eyes flit back and forth then back again along the page of your book.

“Whaddya mean, what’s on my mind?” you murmur, eyes still flitting, sentences jostled and blurred, “Nothing’s on my mind.”

Propping up his chin on his elbow, the mattress dips as he leans in toward you, “You get this look when you’re thinking, and I’m always curious to know what you’re thinking.”

Snorting quietly, you place your book upside down on your lap, fixing him with an even stare, “Even if it’s nothing?”

“It’s not nothing,” he replies simply.

“How about if it’s dumb?”

Smiling playfully, he nudges your arm with his forehead, “Duh, then I can tease you about it!”

Inhaling slowly, you press the tip of your tongue against the sharpness of your teeth, tasting your confession—sour and reluctant—as it spits from your gut, “And if it’s my deteriorating self esteem due to how overweight and fat I am?”

Silence seeps sticky and thick between you, the heat from his body, normally soothing and homey, radiating erratic and worried from his gaze to your rapid heartbeat.

“Is that how you feel?” he finally says, unnaturally steady.

“That I’m fat?” you chuckle wryly, “I don’t know,” absentmindedly flicking the worn corner of your book, “But insecure? Absolutely,” sighing lightly, a faint smile curving your mouth, “You wouldn’t get it.”

Frowning now, his eyes close, opening after a long pause, his hand finding its way to your knee, “You’re right, I wouldn’t. I don’t,” fingertips tracing incomplete circles into your skin, “But I do know that you’re amazing,” tone taking on an apologetic edge, “And I also know I’m not exactly sure how to navigate this topic. Of course, my immediate instinct is to reassure and flatter you, but I just…” fingertips ceasing their ministrations in favor of resting his palm flat and warm on your kneecap, “I don’t know how to best support you. I don’t get it, I don’t,” swallowing loudly, breath in his stomach, “And I’m sorry for that.”

Placing your own hand atop his, you squeeze gently, “I didn’t mean to put you in a difficult pos-”

“Darling, you haven’t put me in any position at all, other than the wonderful position of getting to be your boyfriend.”

Nose crinkling with a contented exhale of air,  you mutter softly, “Even though I’m chubby?”

“Even though people are cruel and inconsiderate with how they choose to address you,” he clarifies, scolding, protective lilt in his voice, “You can only control so much.”

“What if I wanted to lose weight?”

He doesn’t hesitate, “Then I would be here for you throughout and after that journey.”

“And if I didn’t want to lose weight?” you whisper, unable to meet the sincerity glowing in his eyes, “If I just wanted to be happy as I am, right now?”

A low hum splinters the tension, time passing patient and thoughtful before he eventually answers, “Then I would reflect on how I could be a better partner… on how I could aid you in feeling and keeping that happiness, on what I might be missing or lacking to help nurture that for you.”

A quick burst of laughter cuts through the remaining tension, wide grin on your face as you lift his callouses to your lips, reveling in the rough, familiar surface, “You are sooo unbearably sweet.”

Pouting, he dramatically tugs his hand away, “Unbearably?” soon returning to cup your jaw, sheepish glint in his eyes.

“Fine, it’s bearable…” you acquiesce, nuzzling into his touch, smelling faintly of sandalwood and ginger, “Barely.”

“I love you,” he smiles, methodically taking your book and resting it on his bedside table, “No more pretending to read, sleep now.”

“Rude,” you huff, eyes rolling fondly at his gesture, “And I love you.”

“You can always share what’s on your mind.”

Wiggling under the covers, you fold his hand against your sternum, toes digging cozily into his shins, stifling a yawn, “I’ll try.”

“I know,” he yawns unabashedly, chomping playfully when you inevitably try to stick your finger in his mouth, “And I’ll be ready to listen.”

[tangerinesgirl]

Kinktober 2024 - October 12th

Sex Toys // Dirty Talk // Breath Play

Alexander Lemtov x Fem!Reader

Rating: 18+, explicit

Word count: 700>

Warnings: public sex, sex toys, men trying to ruin your public image but failing (which we love to see), mentions of impostor syndrome

Kinktober List || Masterlist || AO3

Camera 1 on Y/N, music in 5...4...3...

The butterflies in your stomach make you nauseous. You make fists with your hands to calm your nerves, inhale...exhale...

This was night one of Evrovidenie; the televised Russian competition where the winner would be their entry to Eurovision.

You're not quite sure how exactly you ended up here. Part of you wants to think it was your talent, but the other part thinks it was Lemtov pulling a few strings. You've been together for about a year, he was also performing tonight and was waiting at the wings. He wanted to watch you preform live, which was sweet. But added to your nerves. Impostor syndrome through the roof.

The music kicks in and you somehow start to remember all your lyrics and choreography. Your mic is on top of your head like in theatre shows, so you could use your arms freely. The genre of your piece was very Babymetal inspired, you wanted to sing in Russian even if it lowered your chances, as it just sounded better with the backing track, in your opinion. Your costume hugs your curves at the top of your body, a black corset embossed with diamantés, with a poofy large black skirt coming to just above your knees. Black shorts underneath to protect your modesty. Followed by fishnet tights and New Rocks boots.

Your backing dancers trickle out onto the stage, leaning on one to blow a kiss into the wings. You catch the gaze of Lemtov, when you notice him waving a small remote in his hands, smirking.

Shit.

You completely forgot that was inside you, but there's nothing really you can do but carry on with the routine.

A faint vibration begins inside your core, luckily you were half expecting it so it doesn't catch you as off guard as Lemtov would like. You're about halfway through the routine now, everything is going well, and the crowd are into it, some are even starting to learn the chorus and are signing it back! This is amazing!

You're scared the egg will fall out of you as the backing dancers start lifting you up, but it stays firmly in place. You make a mental note to ask Lemtov where he buys such good quality sex toys from.

The vibrations start to change pattern and intensity. Ah fuck... You close your eyes trying to control your breathing. The intense dance moves only adding to the pleasure as you bend down onto your knees. You have to stop yourself from grinding down on the floor looking for release.

You surprise yourself at still being able to focus on the performance. Nearly there, just one more chorus.

Looking back briefly into the wings you see Lemtov annoyed and pressing every button on the remote. Your eyes roll into the back of your head as you realise you're reaching orgasm. You reach the end note as your walls clench down on the toy. You bite your lip, hard, after the note to stop yourself from moaning out. The lights go dark and you hear the roar of the crowd as you come down from your high. You let out a small shaky moan, praying your mic is turned off.

Cut to VT in 3...2...1...

The egg stops vibrating as you practically run off stage into the wings. Your manager catches you.

"Holy shit Y/N, best performance yet!"

"Yeah the crowd were really into it!", you reply, surprised.

"Not as much as you were", Lemtov whispers in your ear behind you.

You slap his arm lightly as your manager continues.

"Well enjoy the rest of the night Y/N, I'll leave you to catch up"

"Yeah you too!"

Your smile fades instantly as you turn to face Lemtov.

"What the fuck was that?"

"Just a little fun."

"And ruin my chances?"

"NO! No, if anything I bet it helped you reached the high notes."

You playfully shove Lemtov at the comment. Your mind starts racing at how you could possibly return the favour.

"Asshole."

"Hmm maybe next time", Lemtov winks at you as he starts getting his microphone pack set up.

"Fuck you."

"Fuck you t- oh wait I already have."

You snatch the remote out of his hand and whisper into his ear.

"Don't go thinking this is over...it's only just begun."

[drvirgus]

The life you dreamed of

(Series)

Description: Y/n a K-pop Idol of the 5-Member Group Moonlight. But what happens when she falls in Love? How exactly is her life as an Idol and why did she become one?

Idol! Yeji X Idol! Reader

Warnings: Mention of Bullying and Suicide, curse words

Chapter 1:

Masterlist

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

With a grin on my face, I looked at the woman across from me. Haewon also glanced at me, and she started grinning as well. Simultaneously, we both began pounding those small box figures. I heard the others cheering us on, but neither of us really registered it because we were both so focused on winning.

When my character died and I lost, Haewon jumped up with a grin and high-fived Hanni. My mouth hung open as I looked down at my fallen character. Almost immediately, I felt Yunjin's hand on my back, so I turned to her. The taller woman smiled gently.

But my head turned towards Haewon, and my face automatically twisted. "Next time, it's your turn," I playfully warned, causing Haewon to provocatively bow. Amused by this, I chuckled and turned dramatically to Yuna. "Did you see that?" I asked, which made Yuna burst into laughter.

Hanni then clapped her hands. "The next game begins, and this time, I'm winning!" the youngest declared with a grin. Our eyebrows raised almost simultaneously. "Sure thing, baby," I said, laughing lightly, but I stopped when I realized I had just called Hanni "baby." And all of this in front of the camera.

Almost immediately, Haewon drew attention to herself, and we moved on to the next game. My eyes widened as I looked at the machine. Oh no... not a Hammer Coin game. I always lose there...

My eyes narrowed in annoyance as I started to sigh. Yunjin looked at me and started to laugh. "Fighting," she said with a smile, making me look even more irritated. Why did she love teasing me so much? Hanni was the first one, and she scored 124 points. Then it was my turn, and I managed to reach 350 points. I provocatively glanced at Haewon.

She scored 320 points, so I started jumping in excitement. "1-1," she declared, and I nodded in agreement. My eyes then fell on Yunjin, who reached 700 points. My mouth widened briefly. Shortly after, it was Yuna's turn, and she reached the highest score.

"It's all about height! Definitely," I exclaimed as I looked at the two women who were over 170 cm tall. Hanni, Haewon, and I were almost the same height, with hardly any noticeable difference between us. The other two immediately agreed as we all looked at the two giants, who started laughing.

Sighing, I looked into the camera and raised my index finger. Hanni laughed and playfully shoved me. I couldn't help but laugh, and Yunjin quickly ended our show, bidding farewell to our fans. "Bye, Sunny!" we smiled as we waved at the camera.

I immediately grabbed the hammer once again, and my eyes narrowed. "Unnie," Hanni laughed, shaking her head. But I didn't listen and hit the machine again. My eyes widened as I looked at my score. I had surpassed 400.

With an open mouth, I turned to my members and pointed at the score. "Yes, Y/n. You're not weak," Yunjin said, making me smile. I finally let go of the hammer, shedding my competitive spirit.

"I'm hungry," Yuna sighed, and we all turned to her. I smiled gently. "Come on, I'll treat us to a meal," I said, gesturing for them to follow me. "Ramen?" Hanni asked, already looking excited. I just smiled and motioned for them to follow. Yunjin only looked at me suspicously. Almost as she knew where we would be going.

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

"I knew it," Yunjin said, while Haewon audibly sighed and held her head. Hanni had lost all her excitement, and Yuna just rolled her eyes. I smiled, "What's wrong? At least it's free here," I replied with a shrug as I took a seat after getting my food from the Cafeteria.

The others sighed in disappointment but followed me anyway. With our meals in hand, we all sat down at one of the tables. "Do you like the food?" Yunjin asked as she saw me start eating the white rice. I looked at the slightly older woman and immediately smiled. "Of course. JYP only gives us good and healthy food. Sure, I'd love something sweet every day, but I really don't want to do more exercise," I answered, which made Yuna chuckle.

"More exercise? Y/n, to do more exercise, you have to start exercising in the first place," Yunjin replied, causing me to look at her in disbelief. "I do exercise," I replied, to which Yunjin nodded, laughing. Yuna across from me smirked as she looked at me.

"There's Jihyo Unnie," Hanni said, pointing to a particular person. I immediately looked in that direction and noticed Jihyo slowly approaching our table. She had a smile on her face as she stopped at our table. Her hand naturally landed on my head.

"How are you all doing?" the older girl asked as she looked at each of us. I smiled right away. I somehow liked it when she stroked my head. I felt safe and secure around her. Yuna and Haewon promptly replied. Jihyo chuckled as she glanced at our food.

"Just rice?" she asked as she looked at me. I smiled again, saying, "I'm not very hungry." Jihyo understood right away. She then turned to Haewon and smiled, "Don't forget to attend the leader's meeting. Sunbaenim wants to discuss something important with all of us," Jihyo said, her eyes fixed on Haewon.

The younger girl immediately became more serious and nodded her head. "Thank you. I'll be there," she replied. Jihyo smiled again, and her hand moved away from my head. "Good. I'll let you continue eating. Sunbaenim asked me to remind the others as well," the older girl said, and we all nodded in acknowledgment.

"Right. Y/n," the older girl said after taking a few steps away. I immediately turned my head to her. "Yes?" I asked, giving her my full attention. Jihyo chuckled softly, "They have cheesecake," she said, and my entire face lit up. Jihyo smiled at my reaction and waved to me once more before walking away.

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

With a smile on my face, I looked into the camera again. I had just wanted to go to the Starbucks across from the entertainment building, but a few fans had stopped me. They wanted autographs and photos with me. Naturally, since I had time and wasn't in a rush, I agreed.

I held up a peace sign, just like the fan next to me, and after the photo was taken, I turned to the woman. I smiled right away when I noticed her blushing cheeks. "You're my bias," she said, which made me smile even wider. I looked at her with wide eyes, surprised.

"Really? That's so cool. Thank you," I replied. I immediately raised my fists while continuing to smile. "That means I have to work even harder so you won't cheat on me," I added with a light laugh, which made the fan next to me blush even more.

I laughed because she looked really cute all red-faced. My eyes then fell on her friend who was standing beside her. "Who's your bias?" I asked, visibly interested. The friend smiled sheepishly, "Yunjin," she replied, and I nodded my head immediately. "Understandable," I said in English, which made both of them laugh.

"Can I ask you something? It's personal, and I won't tell anyone," my fan asked, so I looked at her with interest, giving her my full attention. "Are you for the Girls?" she suddenly asked in English, which only made me laugh even more. I smiled and pretended like I really had to think about it.

"I'll leave that to your imagination," I replied, just like Nayeon always did. The two glanced at each other and sighed. However, the friend suddenly grinned, "Are you and Yunjin a couple? That would be so cool," she said suddenly, which surprised me visibly. It was rare for a Korean to say this. I smiled again and repeated what I had said earlier, "I'll leave that to your imagination."

My smile widened as I noticed more and more people around me. Almost everyone had their phones in hand, taking photos or even videos of me. But I continued to chat with my fans as if I had known them for years.

"What's your MBTI? You must be extroverted, right?" one of my fans asked, making me laugh. I shook my head. "No, actually, according to the test, I'm 94% introverted. I just feel really comfortable right now, maybe because I ate almost four slices of cheesecake," I replied with a light laugh, and the others laughed too.

"I'm also an INTP," I finally answered the MBTI question. Almost immediately, there was a shocked gasp from the crowd, but only one person, the one who said I was her bias, nodded knowingly. She grinned proudly. "I already knew that. I watch every little video of you," she said.

Delighted, I smiled. "What's your name?" I asked, visibly interested, but the girl just shook her head. "I'm a Sunny," she simply said, which made me even happier. Shortly afterward, she laughed, "You're not good at remembering names anyway," she added, making me slightly embarrassed and laugh nervously.

I chatted with them for what felt like an eternity, but I had to start moving slowly. Smiling and waving, I bid them all farewell and continued on my way.

It was nice. They were all respectful and kept their distance from me, which I appreciated. Only with my permission were they allowed to touch me, and they respected that. Sunny was really a great fandom!

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

Breathing heavily, I was struggling. Why was a plank so challenging? My eyes were fixed on the seconds, which seemed to slow down in slow motion. "Go faster!" I yelled at my phone as I slowly felt my strength draining away. The stopwatch beeped, and suddenly, I dropped onto the mat.

My forehead pressed against the mat as I gasped for air. I didn't even move to turn off the alarm. Only after the sound began to annoy me did I finally shut it off and slowly got up from the mat. I lifted my loose white T-shirt slightly to examine my stomach.

What was I expecting? To get a six-pack after just one plank?

I let my T-shirt fall back down and headed over to the treadmill this time. My water bottle was in my hand as I climbed onto the treadmill. I took several sips and stared at the start button for what felt like an eternity.

 I don't want to!

With a sigh, I started the treadmill after placing my water bottle in the holder. "Hey Siri," I said, causing Siri to respond immediately. "Next song, please," I requested, and the next song started playing through my AirPods.

I began with a brisk walk for the duration of an entire song and then increased the speed. While trying to maintain a steady pace, my labored breathing was clearly audible. i Tried to keep a steady voice as i was singing, but my Voice cracked and it was clear that i was running right now. Frustrated, I sighed multiple times and muttered curses under my breath. Wow, my voice stayed steady when I cursed...

I reached out to grab my water bottle, but suddenly, I stumbled on the treadmill, causing me to fall and the treadmill to send me flying. My eyes widened as I found myself on the floor. I immediately looked around. Did anyone see that?

I glanced painfully at my knee, which was now slightly scraped. With a sigh, I slowly got back up and pressed the stop button on the treadmill. Annoyed, I kicked the treadmill, but it only ended up hurting my foot.

No wonder people say sport is murder!

Finally, I managed to pick up my water bottle and drink from it. I tried to grab my phone but couldn't find it. My eyes widened as I looked around frantically, panic written on my face. However, my phone wasn't far, as the music was still playing.

I examined the treadmill and repeatedly reached into the empty holder, as if my phone would magically appear there. With a furrowed brow, I headed to the small corner where I had previously done my exercises. To my surprise, I saw a person holding my phone, and my eyes widened.

I saw the person looking at me and speaking, but I couldn't hear anything because the music was still blasting in my ears. I quickly pulled out my AirPods and looked at the slightly taller woman. I knew her. Of course, I knew her... I mean, she was my crush...

Ryujin smiled at me. "I guess this is your phone?" she asked, causing me to blush slightly. I took my phone with both hands and bowed to her, which made her laugh. "Thank you. I really thought... Thank you," I said with relief.

She waved it off, smiling. "No problem. I'm Ryujin," she said, extending her hand.

"I know," I replied, causing her to raise an eyebrow. My face turned even redder. I took her hand and shook it. "I mean... You're Ryujin from Itzy... Of course, uh, I know who you are," I replied, visibly nervous and even starting to laugh.

Ryujin chuckled amusedly as she looked at me. She must have found my nervousness endearing. "Thank you. I know who you are too, Y/n," the older girl said with a smile, making me blush even more, which in turn made me even more nervous. I licked my lips and looked at the taller woman.

"Cool," I said somewhat stutteringly, which only made Ryujin laugh more. She smiled. "Do you want to keep training? How about we train together?" she asked, causing my eyes to widen.

Couldn't she have shown up earlier? I can't do any more!

"Sure, I'd love to," I replied with a big grin, which also made Ryujin smile. She nodded. "Great," she said, and together, we headed back to the treadmill. I smirked as I looked at the older woman. We were now training together, and I was dying in the process...

[wsdanon]

short snippet of a fic - currently unfinished/not massively edited (700 words) set pre-qsmp sometime after cell starts therapy. celltw. no warnings, pre-relationship, fluff

Pac is pretending to read a book. 

He’s laying on the couch with his legs thrown over the armrest, and his head in Cell’s lap. Cell has one arm limply resting on his chest, and the other hand is gently, absently carding through his hair. 

Pac is pretending to read a book simply because otherwise he’d have nothing to hide his steadily reddening face behind. Occasionally he’ll turn a page, but otherwise he doesn’t dare move. Too worried that he’ll snap Cell out of whatever trance he must be in to have been silently petting Pac’s hair for the past fifteen minutes or so.

They’ve returned to their dancing around each other from before everything went downhill, much to Mike’s chagrin. He compared them to binary stars—orbiting around each other until they inevitably crash together in a fiery explosion. 

Pac thinks it has the potential to end up nicer than that. But he also doesn’t think Mike’s wrong exactly—Cell is still scary to be around sometimes, after all—so he’s keeping his distance. 

And then Cell will go and do something like this. And, well, Pac’s only human. He indulges in it, encourages it, and even seeks it out. Cell is overall pretty skittish, though. It’s easy enough to be pulled back into the reality of oh, yeah, maybe Pac shouldn’t date the guy who ate his leg. Even if they’re sorta-kinda-maybe friends now. 

But then Cell will go and do something like this. 

He was agitated all morning. Enough so that Pac started feeling nervous around him again. So, both Mike and him decided to give Cell his space. 

He left the house without a word to either of them. And when he came back he seemed calmer, and not bloodstained. A little dirty, though. He sat down right next to Pac on the couch, and Pac wasn’t going to ask. 

Instead, they had a bit of a back and forth, which ended in Pac’s head in Cell’s lap. Cell could’ve pushed him off, but he didn’t. Cell could’ve just kept his hands still and off of him, but he didn’t. And, well… sue him, Mike, it’s nice, okay? 

Cell stops his movement abruptly, and Pac is glad the book hides his disappointment. 

“I’m thinking of changing my name.” Cell says. 

“Oh?” 

Pac removes the book from his face, and sits up. Cell frowns, and pulls out the tiny switchblade they’d given him to mess around with. 

“I can still make this hurt you, you know?” Cell had warned them.

“It’s blunt.” Mike had replied, unimpressed.

“Nothing major.” Cell says with a shrug. “What do you think of Cellbit?”

“Cellbit? Very nice!” Pac leans into him, and doesn’t miss the way he fumbles the switchblade a little. “Although… it is kind of an obvious alias, right?”

“It’s not meant to be an alias. It’s a…” Cellbit makes that noise with his tongue, and waves a hand around—searching for the word. “A reminder.” 

“A reminder? Of what?”

“Why I started killing in the first place.” Cell closes the switchblade with a snap. “It wasn’t for fun. It was because I had to. And I don’t have to anymore.”

“Ohh! I see!”

“My therapist thought it was a good idea.” Cellbit grumbles. “You don’t have to use it.”

Pac doesn’t really know if it’ll work, but any attempt to push Cell away from his bloodlust is something he’s willing to indulge in. Besides, he’s not going to call someone by the wrong name. 

“If you prefer I’d use it, I’ll use it.” He lets himself press a little closer. Lets his voice drop a little lower. “It’s a nice name.” 

“Yeah?” Cellbit looks over at him with a smile. It’s a tiny little thing that sends butterflies flying through his stomach. Something soft that they rarely get to see. “It’s the name I used to use. Not my legal one, but I only remember that because that’s what they arrested me under.” 

“Well, Cellbit,” he continues in that low tone, “I really like it.”

Cellbit’s eyes flicker down to his lips. His smile widens into that grin that makes Pac’s heart race for more than one reason. 

“Well, darling, I like the way you say it.” 

The door slams open, and Pac jumps away from Cellbit as quickly as he can. He knows it is absolutely not a coincidence that Mike chose now of all times to walk in on them and silently curses him. 

“Pac!” Mike calls out. “I need your help with something.”

“Fine, fine!” Pac looks back to Cellbit, who’s messing around with his switchblade again. “Uh… sorry. I’ll be back in a second. Maybe.”

“Alright.” Cellbit shrugs, seemingly disinterested. 

Pac internally curses Mike out again, and follows after him to their makeshift lab.

--

author note: i've never posted a fic on tumblr before so i hope this formats okay

[navybrat817]

Thinking of all the beautiful centerpieces florist Bucky comes up with in the fall🥺🥺 he probably is so cozy and snuggly and sexy ugh cuddling up to him on a cold night or morning sounds like it'd fix me !!! personally speaking

Mir, I will forever adore our soft and loving florist and we deserve all the cuddles.

A Second Spring

Pairing: Florist!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Summary: Everything changes for Bucky when he meets you and your daughter.

Word Count: Over 700

Warnings: Fluff, cuddling, establish relationship, wedding talk, slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?)

A/N: Short and sweet for our florist. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

“What about this one?” Bucky asked, swiping the screen on his phone to show you another image.

You leaned your head against his shoulder, taking in the next picture. Bucky had put together a few different arrangements earlier in the day and wanted your opinion on the one you liked best. You didn’t think he could make a bad arrangement if he tried. It was nice though that he wanted your opinion. “It’s beautiful.”

“You’ve said that about all of my arrangements,” he teased, turning his head to kiss the top of yours.

“Because it’s true,” you smiled, lifting your head for a moment. Each one was more gorgeous than the last. This image was a blend of yellow, orange, and red, the seasonal hues bold yet soft. “But if I think this one is my favorite one today because you included yellow beech leaves and the vase is shaped like a gourd. Combined with the flowers, it’s like autumn meets spring. The perfect combination.”

Bucky hummed thoughtfully, pressing his lips to your temple this time. The stubble across his cheeks left a pleasant burn in its wake. “Almost like a second spring.”

Where every leaf is a flower.

“Exactly,” you smiled, snuggling closer to him on the couch when he set the phone aside. Inhaling gently as you put your head back on his shoulder, you caught the sweet scent of some of the flowers he worked with today. It blended beautifully with his cologne, soothing and subtle. It wrapped around you like a hug. “How are you always so warm? And how are your sweaters so soft?”

He chuckled, your heart skipping a beat when he put his arm around you. It was nice to have an affectionate boyfriend and a snuggly one at that. Waking up wrapped up in him was a feeling you’d never get tired of. “I think having you close is what keeps me warm and my sweaters are made of boyfriend material,” he replied, resting his head against yours as you giggled. In your eyes, he was husband material. “We could cuddle in bed if you’re cold.”

A moan escaped your throat. Oh, he’d cuddle with you. There was no doubt about that. He’d also remove your clothes, keep you warm with his entire body, and cuddle with you all over again. “In just a few minutes,” you said, wanting to soak up the quiet moment with him on the couch.

“Five minutes and then bed,” he said. You heard the smirk in his voice, which sent heat down to your toes. “I don’t know if I ever asked you, but what do you think of autumn weddings?”

“A random and sweet question,” you answered, smiling as you pictured Bucky in a tuxedo, his hair pulled back and his cerulean eyes full of love. “I think they’re nice. Beautiful. Especially September or early October since it’s not too hot or too cold. The changing foliage makes for amazing visuals. And the romantic ambience is just magical, you know?”

“Sounds like you’ve thought about this,” he said softly, his metal hand moving to rest over yours with great tenderness.

Your cheeks warmed, but your smile widened. “I may have,” you said. It was easy to picture marrying Bucky in many settings. With the flowers in bloom or your toes in the sand, as the leaves changed or the snow created a breathtaking wonderland. The ceremony and festivities would be special no matter what.

You’d say “I do” day or night, rain or shine, in any season as long Bucky was the one you were going to marry.

You both stayed quiet and you wondered if he was picturing your wedding day, too. He’d work so hard on the vows, you just knew it. If his legacy would be the beautiful arrangements he made and the joyful memories he helped create because of them, you hoped part of your legacy would be the love he brought out of you. Written in emotion, through your eyes and fingertips, bathing him in warmth with your light and kisses, and finding peace and home in each other’s arms.

That's true love.

“So have I, Petal,” he whispered, his lips lingering on your head in the gentlest of kisses that rippled through your core. “So have I.”

Can we all agree that he deserves the wedding of his dreams? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[thistlecatfics]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Spread the self-love ❤

oooh thank you <3 <3 <3

put these together and then... oops there's a theme for all my favorite fics. (It's incest and dub-con and non-con and substance abuse and not quite fully ever recovering from trauma.)

Nymphadora, Nymphet (Bellatrix/Tonks, 20k) (cw: incest, teacher/student, grooming, non-con)

Dear Nymphadora, I’ve been informed of a temporary Defence professor this year, and you may have gathered she is (was) my sister. Be careful. If she attempts to harm you in any way, report straight to Professor Sprout. We shall talk more at Christmas; it may be time for you to learn more about my side of the family. Please watch your Potions work – I know you can do better than last year. -Mum

I didn't write this fic specifically to include as many content warnings as possible, but with Bellatrix you just sort of end up there. I read My Dark Vanessa and immediately knew I wanted to write a fic inspired by it - though it took me a while to find the right moment. Bellatrix herself is just so captivating. I think as a reader you can see exactly what's happening and still have a part of yourself fall for her just as Tonks does.

Icarus Parvati/Millicent/Pansy) (cw: addiction, suicidal ideation)

A year after the war, Parvati runs into Pansy and Millicent at a club in Ibiza and finds herself embedded in their debauchery. None of it’s healthy, and it works until it doesn’t.

Ahhh this fic. My beloved. I invented a ship tag for it so I know why it sits at less than 700 hits BUT this fic and three women have my heart in such a chokehold. I can't let myself start rereading this fic because every time I do have to finish it. In terms of quality to kudos, I definitely think this is my most underrated fic.

Waxing Gibbous, October 1981 (Remus/Fenrir, Remus/Sirius, 6k) (cw: non-con, canon compliant first war miscommunication)

Remus cuts his soul open for monsters.

I started this fic after a week of particularly emotionally challenging sessions with clients where so many people were processing what it meant to intentionally return to a person who abused them -- and then took a break for over a year because it hit too intensely. Thank you to various cheerleaders for keeping me going. I'm a sucker for canon compliant first war angst between Sirius and Remus and may I say that I have delivered.

Alphard's Favourite (Sirius/Peter, past Sirius/Alphard, 6k) (cw: past CSA, incest)

Peter tries to find out why Sirius is so upset over Alphard’s inheritance. Then he tries to make sure Sirius doesn’t fall off the roof. Then he tries to ensure Remus doesn’t hear them.

This fic contains the greatest ending line I've ever written. You should read it just for that. You should also read it because with no other fic have the two characters taken over the plot so intensely. I wrote it as a mediation on different ways people messily recover from incest/CSA but then Peter and Sirius insisted on having sex so that's what happened.

Duty (Regulus/Sirius, 2k) (cw: suicide, incest)

Regulus knew what a duty was.

I wrote this fic on the train to see my parents as a way to process my own childhood. I thought it would be difficult to turn it into a fic but then it became a Regulus character study with only a few edits so even though it feels almost too personal to be a fic, but it works as a canon compliant Regulus story. It's 2k words, but it'll hit like an epic I promise :)

[sxcret-garden]

ღ Oneus Hwanwoong x gn!reader ღ words: ~700 ღ genre: smut ღ warnings: none ღ prompts: dry humping, marking

Author's note: I'm guessing this can be read as gender neutral, but if it sounds awkward to read it from a male-bodied perspective, please let me know!!

“You’re mine.” Your boyfriend shows you a mischievous smile as he runs his fingertip across the mark he just left above your collarbone. He presses a quick kiss onto your lips, and when he parts from you, you can see him grinning happily. “Only mine.”

“You know I am,” you reply, smiling as you drop your head onto his shoulder, pulling him closer with a hug. Hwanwoong leans in and a shiver runs down your spine as he lets his lips ghost over the delicate skin on your neck, and when you feel his teeth grazing the spot just beneath your earlobe, you moan. “What if someone sees?” you pose your question as a warning, knowing exactly what he’s up to. 

“Don’t worry,” he says, “it’s getting colder these days anyway. You can just wear a scarf to cover it up.” He smiles against your skin, before scattering a trail of kisses down your neck.

“Indoors?” you question. Instead of answering, your boyfriend takes you by the hand and walks you across the living room. Taking a seat on the sofa, he pats his lap to make you sit. Accepting his invitation, you put your arms around his shoulders and straddle him, before raising an eyebrow at him as if to ask him, “What are you planning?” Hwanwoong captures your chin between his index finger and thumb, and he brings you in for a sensual kiss. His other hand wanders to your hip, pulling you closer.

“Get yourself off on me.” His bold words catch you off guard, and you feel blood rushing to your face - even though you should’ve gotten used to him talking like that over the time you’ve been together. A bit shy at first, you roll your hips against his, and he soon pulls you in for another kiss that’s supposed to serve as encouragement. He lets his lips wander to your jaw, and eventually to the side of your throat while you can feel him getting hard underneath you. You whine as he nips at your neck, but this time you let him. The excitement deriving from the thought that like this, everyone would know who you belong to, outweighs reason, and so you simply let yourself drown in the sensation. Grinding your core against his bulge, you let out soft moans, and you like the way his breathing pattern is changing too. Thinking about how you can turn him on with so little makes you bite down on your lip, and you tug at his hair every now and then, wanting to feel him closer to you.

“Feels good…” you hum at the friction as you rock your hips, and also a bit at the way his lips and teeth are working on your skin. Gracing you with another mark, Hwanwoong moans in satisfaction, before eventually he moves over to guiding your hips, pushing your core against his hard on. Despite the fabric of your pants that separates you, you feel yourself coming closer to the edge, and you give yourself up to the pace he sets.

“Shit… I’m gonna cum in my pants…” he mumbles, and though he’s saying it in a way that suggests he wants to avoid that, the blush creeping onto his cheeks tells you otherwise. 

“Cum for me, baby,” you breathe in between moans, well aware that your own high is fast approaching as well. Your moans fill the room along with your heavy panting, as you rut against his bulge, having only one goal in mind. And then the orgasm finally hits, and you instinctively dig your fingertips into your boyfriend’s upper back. With a groan, he too releases, and then you simply stay in your positions for a little while to regain your composure.

“We should go wash up,” you mumble, pressing a kiss onto his lips, and you see your boyfriend glance at you with a playful spark in his eyes. He smirks and gently pushes you off him, before announcing,

“Last one in the shower loses!”

[sophierequests]

the ring // holiday event

Navigation┃Main Masterlist┃Request

Pairing: David Kostyk x gn!Reader

A/N: Everybody say thank you to Lizzie (@juneberrie) for giving me this idea.

Summary: David's Christmas present turns out to be a bit more valuable than the reader had expected.

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 700

Warnings: Proposals, couples being happy??

David was nervous. In all honesty, nervous was an understatement. He was anxious, afraid, jittery, skittish, uneasy, and basically every other synonym for the word nervous that there is. The worst thing was, that he didn’t even know what exactly he was nervous about. Was he nervous about saying something wrong? About having picked the wrong moment? Or was he just nervous about potentially getting rejected?

The only thing he knew is that he was eternally grateful that you accepted his offer of spending the first day of Christmas together. It made things easier for him. He didn’t think that he would have been able to pop the question with every single one of your shared friends around. As much as he loved them, only the thought of that being a possibility made him tense up.

But now he had no excuse for pushing the inevitable any further. You had spent the entire evening baking and eating Christmas cookies, having a lavish dinner, and eventually settling down on the couch to have a glass of wine and unwrap the few presents you got the other.

His hand fidgeted with the small box in his pocket, anxiously waiting for the perfect point in time to do what he had been waiting to do for what felt like ages. It had taken him almost four months to be satisfied with the ring. He had occasionally put in all-nighters under the ruse of simply having too much work to do. Instead of slaving away at some random project however, he spent the night planning and creating the perfect ring for you. It was a secret he kept from basically everyone in his life. Not even Genya or Nikolai were aware that he was planning to propose. They had all suspected that he might do it sometime soon, but him proposing on Christmas was something no one suspected. And you didn’t either. 

“Saints, David these are so cute!” you grinned as you unpacked the soft pair of Fabrikator-made gloves he had thrown in as a disguise for the actual present he had been planning to give to you. T

“You’re always complaining that your fingers are threatening to fall off whenever you come to visit me in the workshops. I thought these gloves would at least keep you from freezing to death on your way to see me,” he replied, one hand still on your other gift.

“My fingers shall remain on my hands for another day,” you laughed, putting them on the table next to you. “Thank you, David. I love them. You know me so well.” You leaned forward to hug him, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek which he happily accepted.

“I’m glad. I was worried you didn’t like the colour,” he replied, his voice hitching a bit on the last syllable. He knew that you would like the colour. It was your favourite, after all. And it was also the same colour as the stone he put into the prong of the ring.

“Love, are you alright?” you asked, slightly caught off-guard by the tenseness he emitted. He had been acting strange for the entire evening, but you had just chalked it up to the stress the holidays brought with them.

“Hm? What do you mean?”

“You’ve been so nervous today, is everything okay?” 

“Actually, there is one thing I need to ask you.” Now or never, he thought, straightening out his back to feign the confidence he wasn’t feeling. You gave him a quizzical expression, suddenly feeling uneasy at his sudden change of demeanour. 

“Uhm, of course.”

“I’ve been thinking about this for quite some time now, and I am quite nervous to actually go through with this. I’ve never been good at decision-making. I’m constantly trying to push any monumental decisions back as long as I can. But there is one decision I’m very sure of and that I’d like to make a bit more permanent.” All the puzzle pieces seemed to fall into place when he slid off the sofa to get on one knee. “Y/N Y/L/N, will you do me the honour of marrying me?”

You didn’t even manage to get out a proper response before falling into his arms, engulfing him in a tight hug he hadn’t quite expected. 

“Is that a yes?” he asked sheepishly, tightening his grip on your waist.

“Of course it’s a yes!”

Taglist:

Grishaverse fics in general: @yesshewrites1 @dal-light

David Kostyk: @juneberrie