#anyway i feel like i could do anything knit anything k

[bakingmoomins]

went out for lunch today with my grandma and two great aunts and everyone is a knitter/crafter and we all wore handmade knits and i got so many compliments from them on my knit button up i feel so special

[youssefguedira]

K or N for Joe and/or Nicky

K. On the edge of consciousness.

Yusuf wakes slowly, so slowly that he can’t see and isn’t even sure he can open his eyes, only half-sure he still has eyes, and that’s how he knows there’s something very, very wrong. He can’t move, can’t hear, can’t even smell anything. He doesn’t remember exactly what happened to him, but every part of him is burning, and he’s fairly sure the weird aching sensation in his head is his skull knitting itself back together, which. He really, really didn’t need to know what that feels like. 

There’s a scraping in his chest when he breathes in, but at least he’s breathing. 

Where is he? He could be anywhere. He could be in the middle of the street, could have been dragged away from the fighting from someone who had seen him breathing through a wound that should have killed him immediately. When he wakes, what will he find? Will they have taken his weapon? How long has he been dead? 

Will Nicolò be able to find him, if they are separated? Will he even try?

Slowly but steadily, he starts to hear something: a high pitched whistling that sounds like it’s coming from deep inside his own head. The darkness begins to lift, leaving flickering amber lights across his vision, and a shadow in front of him. 

There’s a voice, too, one that sharpens into words as Yusuf’s hearing begins to return. He doesn’t understand their meaning, but the cadence of them and the voice itself is familiar. 

“Are you awake?” Nicolò asks softly, switching to Arabic. 

Yusuf tries to make a sound in response. Whether it’s audible he doesn’t know, because the only noise he can really make is a rasping exhale, but Nicolò hushes him anyway.

“Do not… you can be slow,” Nicolò says. He’s more comfortable with the sounds of the language now, but still doesn’t always string sentences together well. “We are safe. I am here.”

He’s made aware of where his hand is by the feeling of Nicolò reaching for it. Yusuf manages to make an actual sound this time, but still can’t form words. Nicolò squeezes his hand gently. 

“I am here,” he says again. 

Eventually, Yusuf’s skull seems to piece itself back together fully, and his vision sharpens, letting him see that they’re backed into the corner of the two remaining intact walls of a house ravaged by fire, Nicolò crouched in front of him with his sword in hand. There’s a trail of blood leading to where Yusuf is lying now, and a section of the room that has collapsed. He can piece together enough. Nicolò would have had to drag him over here.

This time, he manages to make a sound, even if he can’t quite form words. Nicolò looks down at him over his shoulder, and there is blood on his face and in his hair, and only then does Yusuf notice the bodies in the room. 

“Okay?” Nicolò asks. 

Yusuf manages to nod, and it sends a spike of pain along his spine. Nicolò turns slightly to look at him properly. 

“You are almost done, I think,” he says. “You did not… you were asleep for a long time. I did not know if…”

“Nicolò,” Yusuf finally manages, hoarse.

“Rest,” Nicolò says. “I am here.”

(letter asks)

[alrightbuckaroo]

38 or 63 (your choice) for the Spotify drabble

Hello, K! I'm going to go with 63 because it's Love at First Sight by Kylie Minogue and that title is just so fitting for Tarlos! This turned out so much longer than I planned but I hope you enjoy <;3

"It was love at first sight."

That's how Gabriel describes meeting Andrea for the first time. He's recounting the story about how he found forever during a quiet dinner that's just him, Andrea and Carlos.

Luisa and Ana have already moved out and Carlos has begun to burrow himself in his room. Gabriel blames it on teenage angst and Andrea doesn't disagree because maybe that's the reasoning that's easiest to swallow.

"I was stuck in the corner of some shitty bar," Gabriel continues, grimacing when he thinks about the stench of stale smoke and warm beer that the bar always seemed to permeate.

"Language, we're at the dinner table," Andrea interjects, her knife cutting into her chicken.

"I was stuck in the corner of some bar that's now closed down," Gabriel amends, before whispering, "Because it was shitty."

Andrea rolls her eyes, but at the sound of Carlos' giggle, a sound that seems almost foreign as of late, she decides to let Gabriel get away with it.

"Anyways, I had just graduated the academy, top of my class, I'll have you know,"

"You let me know every time you bring it up, Dad," Carlos adds in and Andrea sneaks a smile his way.

Gabriel doesn't let it deter him. "Just as I'm about to leave, call it a night and leave my classmates to their own devices, I saw her," Gabriel looks over at Andrea like he's falling in love all over again. "Across a sea of people, I saw her and she looked like the only person I'd ever want to see again."

"I looked at her and knew it was love," Gabriel continues.

"How could you be so sure?" Carlos asks, twirling his fork into his spaghetti. He pushes around a meatball, his appetite robbed by the anxiety he's been fighting down since seventh period.

He thinks he's in love with his classmate Jacob and he doesn't know how to explain it to himself. He thinks, maybe, hearing about love from someone undeniably in it, will help things make more sense.

"Did it 'feel right'?" Carlos makes air quotes with his hands as he regurgitates what the romance movies always say.

"It felt like everything other time I had fallen in love felt wrong," Gabriel answers. "It felt like any other time I'd felt love for someone paled in comparison to what I felt then. I knew I had to make my move or I'd be regretting it every day since."

"What did you do?" Carlos asks, wondering how something as quick as a glance has lead to so many loving years of marriage.

"What every Reyes man does," Gabriel begins to reply, but Andrea cuts in to finish off his sentence, just like all the romance movies say that you'll do.

"He asked me to dance."

--

10 Years Later

Carlos is responding to call about a single vehicle accident when he meets Owen Strand, a man who's personality is only just slightly bigger than his list of hair care products.

Cast aside, watching the action unfold, Carlos feels a presence next to him that almost feels akin to a gravitation pull. Owen nods to the person standing next to him and Carlos uses that as a way to make conversation. "He's an impressive guy," Carlos says.

He looks over and he finds himself standing next to TK Strand. He finds himself standing next to TK Strand and gazing into emerald green eyes that look like home.

He's standing next to TK Strand and suddenly, everything his dad once said, makes sense.

--

Carlos is standing in the corner a barely lit bar and crowded by a group of people that he's barely brushed shoulders with. He's about to call it a night when he sees TK.

TK who's doing nothing more than standing against a beam, and causing Carlos' tightly knit string to unravel. He knows that if he doesn't say anything, he'll regret it for the rest of his life.

He wades through the sea of people and cozies up next to TK with a casual air that's both forced and the tiniest bit counterfeit. He throws out a "hey," and hopes that it's enough to cast a line.

TK casually looks over and Carlos thinks he might be falling in love again. "Hey," TK casually tosses back but then looks away almost instantly, like he's scared to look too long.

Courage courses through him as he asks, "Wanna dance?"

TK looks back at him, and this time, it feels a second longer. He smiles before answering with, "Yeah."

send me a number 1-100 and i will try to write a short drabble based off whatever song that corresponds to in my spotify wrapped

[scorpiongrassfield]

You Don't Mind Getting to Know Theo

Start | Prev

“Oh. That’s. Very sweet of you to say,” Theo says. 

He opens his mouth to say something else, but is interrupted by the sound of a door slamming somewhere else in the house. 

“Ah. That was probably Concrete,” he explains. 

You wait for him to elaborate. 

“He has a habit of pushing doors closed and then being really mad that he’s locked in whichever room he locked himself in. Come on, let’s go get him.” 

He leads you over to the stairs. 

You feel a little uneasy as you approach them, but they lack any sort of runner rug, and they don’t seem particularly hungry, so you follow Theo up them anyway. You can hear Concrete meowing as you walk. 

“So. This is the second floor,” Theo says, gesturing around. 

“And this,” he says as points to a door, “is sort of a multipurpose room.” 

He opens it just a crack, as the door gently bumps into something on the other side. 

“Concrete. If you want me to open the door you’re going to need to move,” he says gently. 

Concrete does not move. It continues meowing. 

Theo sighs but smiles fondly. 

He scans the hallway, and upon spotting a little mouse cat toy, he picks it up. 

“Concrete! Go get the mousey!,” he says, and then tosses the mouse through the crack in the door. 

There’s the sound of quick little footsteps running away from the door. 

“There we go!” Theo says and opens the door. 

This room is partially taken up by a rather expansive… cat jungle gym? There’s towers and platforms and shelves with the occasional cat toy stuck to it. 

A lot of the toys seem to be knitted or otherwise hand-made. 

“Did you knit those yourself?” you ask, nodding to them. 

“Oh, it’s actually crochet. But yes. I made those and most of the whole thing myself. I like making stuff and it keeps Concrete from getting bored,” he says, rubbing at the back of his neck. He seems to do that when he’s feeling shy or nervous. 

“That’s pretty impressive,” you say. It looks like it took a lot of work. 

“Oh, um. Thank you,” he says. Then he turns to the other side of the room to change the subject. 

There’s a computer desk with a desktop and drawing tablet in one corner. In the other there’s a tv and what looks to be a few different gaming consoles, a shelf of games,  and some beanbags.  

“This is where I spend most of my time. Working at the computer. Or gaming.” 

“Cool.” 

“Do you like video games at all?” 

You pause and consider it. 

“I… Don’t remember.” 

“Oh.” 

There’s another pause. 

“Do you… Want to try playing some? I’ve got a pretty wide variety. And I don’t have anything super pressing that I need to do today,” Theo rambles. 

You would like to. But. 

“I’m not sure when Pat’s expecting me back. I’m supposed to pick up a pizza for us,” you explain. 

Thinking about it, though. You really don’t want to. Talking to strangers is scary, especially without Pat there to smooth things over if something happens. 

“I could probably try ordering one and having it delivered. That’s technically still getting a pizza to Pat like they asked, right?” you reason out loud. 

Theo shrugs. “It’s up to you.” 

You nod. 

You look up the nearest pizza place to the motel and find the number to call. 

“Marty’s Pizza, what can I get for you?” comes the voice from the other side. 

You open your mouth to order, but your voice just won’t come out. 

You try again. Nothing. Your heart is beating a little too fast. 

“Hello?” the person calls. 

You, against your better judgment, are too scared to answer. 

“I’m sorry, I can’t hear you. Can you try calling back?” the person says. 

You don’t say anything. 

They hang up. 

You just stand there, still holding the phone. What the hell was that? Why are you scared of talking on the phone? 

“Oh dear. Are you alright?” Theo asks. 

You don’t know. 

“Ah. I’ve been there. Here. Why don’t we come sit down for a bit over here?” he coaxes. 

He gently takes your hand and guides you over to the bean bags. You sit down heavily. 

“I didn’t remember that,” you say. 

It makes you kind of mad. Not being able to remember why you’re scared of things. 

“That sounds frustrating,” Theo agrees. “I… I don’t remember why I’m scared of the woods around my house. It’s. Really not very pleasant,” Theo commiserates. 

There’s something there that you’d normally like to press on. But not right now. 

Concrete has taken up residence on the other bean bag.

“Would you like a distraction? I’m sure Pat will understand if you need to calm down before starting the drive back?” Theo says, gesturing to the games. 

You think you would like a distraction. 

“Sure,” you agree.

Next

[crimsun-n-clover]

updates

mickey and her boytoy broke up. i was right. obviously. she was wrong and clouded by infatuation. typical. said with love.

but now i’m teaching her the WAYS OF THE REVENGE PLOT and she’s a wonderful student. holding his shit hostage as trophies of putting up with him. i’m so goddamn proud.

still miss sugar. been thinking about calling her because you know who fuckin else will i have that weird bond with but she’s the one who left me. ball’s in her court and i hate sports. come find me at concessions bitch.

might make her a gift for the holiday i made up for her. not sure if i should leave a note. “hey you know what day it is haha five year anniversary of the time i thought you killed yourself. don’t do it again. k bye -your dyke” like??? would probably stir some shit up. but i’m not sure if i’d be able to stop myself yk? i have a little pile of paper stars like i made for her last christmas, so i’ll probably just give her another jar of them.

slept on the couch all week. love it. cat loves it too. it’s nice not to feel alone.

i love being alone actually. can’t wait to move out and be away from these bitches. but you know. like i’d rather be with my cat and some cartoons then my sad cave of a room. it’s usually a nice cave but i don’t like it much recently. it’s my hiding place and i’m sick of hiding when all i want to do is leave.

mom keeps looking at land to build a house on once we move out of this shithole. she wants me to park my trailer on it. no chance in HELL. “trailer parks are shady blahblah classism” EAT SHIT. the happiest i’ve ever been is in a trailer park. love em. can’t stand being around a bunch of selfish freaks. love being in a tightly knit community of retirees, families, travelers, and people down on their luck. it’s the way we’re supposed to be as humans in my opinion. just the material shit that you need and the things that will make you happy, independence, and community.

dad went to the corner store across from our closest trailer park and mom flipped shit about suspicious characters or whatever. hey. bitch. they’re poor. they don’t wanna kill you theyre here for a pack of winstons and a scratch off. cry about it. you’re self absorbed if you think they could be bothered to fucking stab you in the parking lot of where they get their goddamn doritos.

me and maggie are kinda codependent now. our routine gets thrown off if i don’t pick her up to drive around town and blast queen. full time passenger princess. she didn’t do anything with me yesterday and my metal cds and stuffed dragon (smaug) took over. she was a little jealous i think.

she’s the aziraphale to my crowley now since sugar divorced me. no more “WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING THATS ILLEGAL” just an “i don’t know them” sad. i miss getting reactions. even better when she’d slap the shit out of me. mag just assumes that any little gift i get her is something i pocketed because i thought she would like it. sugar on the other hand would skin me alive. maggie and i are really close and comfortable and all but i have no interest in her. plus she’s been with her girl for almost a year now.

sugar and i still have joint custody of daisy. shame. as if the little bastard doesn’t love me more (calls me her dad, comes to me when she needs a ride, invites me to her plays and recitals, all that.)

found a cheap old fifth wheel that i’m in love with for 18k one town over. there’s a couple travel trailers i’d take too, because that’s what i want anyway, but the fifth wheel would probably be a better place for my kiddos. more room to lounge, play dnd, and beat the shit out of each other.

my collection for moving is coming along beautifully. handful of vinyls, little painting of ducks i found with mag that i NEEDED, and i just bought a set of bowls with little pumpkins on them. i took all the change in all my little hiding spots and cashed it out at walmart. i now have 56 dollars that my parents can’t track, and i’ll be asking for 20 cash back whenever i can. i don’t want them to notice when i buy things.

i want to make a paypal or something for donations, but i don’t think i could get away with that. i’d need an account that wouldn’t need my address or anything, and no bank information. just something i could get as cash at an atm and hide in my cash hoard (stuffed monkey). i don’t want it to be traceable by my parents. i’m not doing anything sketchy, they just don’t understand how bad of an environment this is for me and lash out when i try to reason with them.

223 days until ronnie comes home. 223 days until my vinyls can be played. 223 days until my pumpkin bowls go to use. 223 days until my duck painting gets hung. 223 days until i can bake all the goddamn pies i want for all the little bastards i can handle.

[saltyfryz]

K, so I've been thinking about this idea a bit more, and like I've got a few characters worked out

First off, Rapunzel is Swap sans, I feel like he encapsulates her character well and is mostly a neutral party with no real beef with any of the token bad senses like Dream or Ink would have with Nm and Error respectfully.

For Flynn(Eugene) he would probs be Fell, I've tried floating the idea that Ink could be Flynn but his part in the song just doesn't line up with Inks personality from what i understand. Fell however, I believe would fit the song much better, especially taken into consideration Flynn's character arc in the movie, plus their personalities feel similar to me.

Then we got the pianist with the axe, for me Horror sounds like the best option for him

Now uh, for the rest of the bar..

Uhh...

Well, I got nothing solid except that "Bruiser knits, Killer sews" Part.

Cmon. Y'all know where this is going, Brusier is Error and Killer is, well Killer. Error is a bit iffy for me, considering later in the song a 'fang' dude does puppet shows, witch is kinda accurate to error now that I'm thinking about it..

OKAY WELL-

Fang is Error now, I've just decided. Anyway-

No idea who Bruiser could be, maybe Dust but Idk

For the rest imma just spitball/do a lightning round-

For the guy who wanted romance, I have no clue who he could be, he or the florist could possibly be Lust. I've seen stuff where they're apart of the BSG so yeah

"Gunther.. interior design" I think would be Wine, I don't think I needed to explain

"Ulf.. mime" ...fresh. don't ask why, I just have a gut feeling.

"Attila.. cupcakes..." Nightmare. Again, don't ask(i think it's cute)

"Vladimir collects ceramic unicorns" all I can think of for this is maaybe a horror Mafia sans of some kind? Maybe it could be Cross or Epic collecting rubber chickens?

Maybe y'all could come up with something better idk.

In all seriousness, I do wanna hear your thoughts on this. Do any of you agree or disagree with my choices? Would you change anything? Don't be shy!

Someone needs to make an animation or animatic of the song "I have a dream" from Tangled but with the bad sans'

I think that'd be neat

Plus it doesn't have to just be the main four bad sanses, could be a mish mash of a lot of evil aus too

I've had this idea for a while but never had the motivation to do it ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯

[katnissmellarkkk]

I have a writing prompt; it is the writing prompt I think about constantly and will probably end up sending to everyone one of these days so I can just swim in a pool of stories so here it is

Katniss + long, beautiful stockings

Hiiii! This is super old but I started it and decided to just finish it! Idk if it’s anything you wanted but uh… it’s something 🤗😅. Anyways I don’t write sex scenes so this is probably as spicy as I get sooooo. Idk. Enjoy? 🤣🤣🤣. Oh and also I didn’t know what kind of stockings you meant sooooo, hope it turned out to your liking, Caters.

I hear the clang of my husband putting away the last of the dishes, signifying he’s finished with cleaning up the kitchen at last. He’s very particular about the task, spending far more time at it than I do tidying up the living room.

I was done and finished with my chore a good forty five minutes before he was his and felt a rush of happiness, not for the first time and doubtfully for the last, that when we silently chose household tasks to take on, I naturally gravitated towards where we sit and talk, where we nap and knit and on rare occasions watch the television, and not the location where we regularly make a mess.

But even being done long before him, I still linger downstairs. I don’t enjoy going to bed without Peeta, even just for a few minutes. Instead I just lay down on couch, resting until he finished washing plates, putting away the silverware and sweeping.

I’m close to slumber, so very close that I’m just barely teetering on the edge of consciousness and as a result, I feel his hands on me before I realize his presence. His ice cold hands — he doesn’t like using the warm water for washing dishes, after an entire childhood of his mother coaching him to save money wherever they could — slip beneath my shirt, causing me to jump as a result.

“Hey,” I exclaim, sleep still heavy in my tone, kicking my leg up uselessly to shoo him back.

But he just chuckles and relents, taking his hands off me. “You ready for bed?” He murmurs knowingly, his voice full of sarcasm given my heavy lids and slightly slurred voice.

“Yes,” I say as clearly and pronounced as I can, extending my arms towards him expectantly.

“I’m not carrying you,” he asserts, immediately shooting me down, no levity in his tone at all. He’s gotten good, as of late, at not giving into me like he used to.

My eyes open then, feeling abruptly more awake now at the stab of betrayal my husband just stuck me with. “Why not?” I murmur, my voice maybe the slightest bit annoyed.

“Because my back is killing me, Katniss,” he says, reminding me of what I already know. He picked up a heavy box wrong when grabbing the bakery shipment from the train station and pulled a muscle or something. I teased him about getting old and how hitting twenty-three has taken its toll on him.

As if suddenly remembering the same conversation as me, Peeta adds, “Your twenty-two year old body must be better equipped than mine for climbing those stairs.” His tone is far from serious and I know he’s taunting me but his words do ring true. If I’m being honest with myself. Especially if I take into account Peeta’s prosthetic leg.

“Fine,” I say, pushing myself off the couch and walking past him to trudge to bed, exhaustion still proving prevalent now.

But for some reason, as soon as I’m about to take the first stair, Peeta rapidly changes his mind. He catches me entirely off-guard, swiftly wrapping one arm around my waist and sweeping the other behind my knees, tossing me up against his chest.

“Excuse me, you just made it clear this ride is closed,” I say before recognizing the double meaning in my words. His eyes are alight and his mouth is turning up in a sly smirk when I clarify begrudgingly. “Shut up. You know that’s not what I meant.”

I am constantly doing that to myself. I’m constantly digging myself into holes with accidental innuendos and unintended implications and Peeta never hesitates to make fun of me over it.

“I know,” he replies as he climbs the stairs, still holding me tight. But he chuckles and I shoot him a dirty look. I’ve never enjoyed being teased, not even now after all these years.

“So why did you change your mind about giving me a lift?” I segue sternly.

“Oh, I decided I want something in return,” he easily brushes off, crossing the threshold to our bedroom, setting me down on my side of the mattress.

I shoot him a look of perplexity. “What do you want?” His statement confuses me. We don’t exactly have that kind of marriage, where we owe each other things or tally up favors. In fact, it was him who instilled that notion into me, into our relationship, long before we were even close to toasting.

“A back massage,” he slyly says as he slides his pants off to climb into bed. I roll my eyes to myself then, as he gives me a bright, cheeky smile. Of course. He’s been wanting me to massage him for days now.

“Lay on your stomach,” I murmur begrudgingly and he complies, not needing to be told twice.

As soon as he’s lying face down, I crawl to his side of the mattress, tugging his shirt up and helping him pull it over his head. Once it’s gone, his bare back is revealed, every muscle, every contour, every scar there on display.

Without hesitating, I climb right onto him, swinging one leg to rest by his other side and straddling his waist. I watch his smile grow, visible even with his face pressed into his pillow, but otherwise I choose — wisely — to make no comment.

I begin kneading his back gently, the way he prefers it. When I first started giving him massages, I was always too rough, having no prior experience at the task. Unlike him who massaged dough almost every day of his life and was able to apply the same principal to my body when our relationship got to that stage. By the time I was asking him for massages of any kind, he was a practical expert, already having reopened the bakery and gotten back in the habit of kneading dough.

Of course, he found my analogy both insane and laughable when I made mention of it. Which only made me mad and, ironically, resulted in him offering more massages than ever before, to ease my ire.

My hands move up and down his spine tenderly, stopping and rubbing deep circles into the places he moans when touched. More than an hour passes before I have to stop, as my straddle on his back is an uncomfortable position to sit in for prolonged periods of time.

Immediately upon my rolling off him though, he absently catches one of my calves as it slides across his back, as if to stop me from moving away. Only for some reason, his tired eyes crack open and focus in on my leg within his hold.

“What’s this?” He asks, puzzled as he takes in the stockings covering any visible part of my leg.

“What’s what?” I yank my foot away, feeling aburptly defensive.

But he’s persistent if nothing else and he tugs my leg back. “Are you wearing stockings?” He suddenly asks, like he’s never seen such a thing before.

I don’t know why but I blush at the inquiry. Which is ridiculous, I tell myself. We’re married and I’ve literally have sex with this man countless times. I don’t know why I feel strangely vulnerable about woolen knee-high socks in his presence now.

“I was cold,” I defend, my gaze flitting towards the open window. The window he insists stay open, as to allow a breeze in to soothe us to sleep. Or soothe him to sleep is more like it.

“Where did you get them?” He asks, but his voice is distant and not with pain or worry for once but rather with something warmer. Something much warmer that I immediately recognize.

His fingers hook in my black stretchy pants and I lift my hips for him to pulls them down and off, murmuring quietly, “Cinna made them for me years ago. I barely wore them before, since they require something to tie them into place.”

I don’t even think he’s listening to my words as his eyes hungrily take in the cable-knit red stockings, traveling up to where they tie near the middle of my thighs. “Why wear them now then?” He murmurs and his hand falls on the exposed skin between the stockings and my underwear. His thumb strokes my thigh sensually and I have to seriously concentrate in order to speak.

“Because I was cold,” I say but my voice is strained and I sound unsure of my explanation.

And then, without warning, Peeta pulls me and lifts me right into his lap, cradling me across it, his mouth on mine as his hand runs up and down the entirety of my leg, eliciting a fire to slowly burn in the pit of my stomach. “Peeta,” I whisper, a little confused, not by his intention — that’d be impossible to mistake — but by what sparked his desire.

I try to say more but his hand travels up my shirt at the same time his mouth opens at the side of my neck and all that comes from my lips are completely intelligible sounds.

“I’m warming you up, sweetheart,” he whispers, his fingers moving lower again, this time to trace a slow, tender circle beneath my bellybutton before sliding back up again.

He pulls his mouth away from my neck only to trail over my jaw and press open kisses over my chin. Just as he goes to take my bottom lip between both of his, I whisper, “I had no idea stockings were a turn on for you.”

His fingers brushes down my side, running the entire length of my body until they settle on my left leg, touching the ribbon that holds up the stocking. “Will you wear them more often?” He asks, softly kissing the corners of my mouth, alternating sides.

My hand travels down his bare chest, greedily feeling his firm and steady muscles beneath my touch. “If you want me to…” I tease, only to have my seductive smile kissed away when he takes my mouth in his firmly.

“I want,” he whispers, his arm that isn’t cradling my back still resting on my knees, still stroking the top of my stockings. “I want very badly, my love.”

[apocalypticgargoyle]

Hi I need to ask a favor of you... Can we get like,,, the reader trying to set cc!dream up with a friend of theirs and he actually likes the reader so we get like dream trying to say that he likes the reader. Idk if this makes sense but I just want a dramatic like "ARE YOU DUMB" moment. Thank u, I'll exit the stage.

Okay so long story short, I had a series about Dre that I was going to write (like a million years ago even before e!k) and I tuned up the confession scene because it fit with the request. Idk idk. It was back when I was having my romance novel phase. N E WAY. happy reading :) ♡ g

𝐄𝐆𝐎 & 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍. ♘ 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

± warnings: language, angst, being so overdramatic, mentions of rivals to lovers, being in a shower, kinda cringe ngl

Dream eyed you over his glass from across the table, his legs long enough that he was invading your space beneath the surface. His green eyes burned into you, which you attempted to let roll off your shoulders innocently. Your friend was talking up Sapnap, completely destroying your plan put in place. It seemed like Dream could tell what you were up to as well, and by the look he was sending your way and the tension in his shoulders, you could tell he wasn’t in the mood for it. Sapnap asked the girl beside you how she was doing in her classes and before he could boast about his own achievements, you butted in. “You know, Clay’s ranked fourth in our sociology class.” Dream rolled his eyes as your friend’s brow perked at your statement.

She cracked a grin in his direction. “Oh really? You some kind of a genius?” She joked, tucking a piece of her hair behind her ear.

Dream chewed the inside of his cheek and folded his hands together on the table, uncomfortable now that you had shifted the subject matter to him. “Uh, I wouldn’t say that. It’s an intro course so…” he mumbled. She hummed in response and he wet his lips.

You jumped into the small bit of silence. “Come on, don’t downplay! He’s also helped me pass calculus last year,” you boasted. Dream shut his eyes briefly as if it were taking every ounce of his being not to scold you. You didn’t care.

“That’s awesome! I’m actually a mathematics major,” your friend eased. “Maybe if you are some kind of genius you could help me figure out homeomorphically irreducible trees sometime,” she jousted with a small wink. Dream chuckled and you thought maybe… finally… they were clicking. You knew you were right, you knew they were a perfect match. Dream just had to put forth a bit more effort.

Dream’s eyes flashed to you again briefly, as if a symbol of telling you he’d kill you for pushing this. “Oh, I don’t know anything about math really, but Sapnap knows a lot of the math professors,” he turned over with a soft smile, sending your friend back into Sapnap’s metaphorical tract. The two started rambling to each other and Dream shot you a dirty look. “Cut it out,” he bit, barely loud enough for you to even hear. You took this as a challenge.

Another round of drinks came to the table, Dream had yet to completely finish his first as it seemed like something was weighing on his mind. You had gotten into the habit of picking up every subtle tick he had and picking at it. You silently listened to the conversation between Nick and your friend as it wound down, giving you the opportunity to strike up something else about Dream. “So Clay, what was your beer pong average last semester?” You asked, taking a sip from your straw innocently.

He sent you a deadpan expression, but Sapnap answered for him. “Oh, trust me, Clay’s the one you want on your team at every frat party,” he praised. You knew how much your friend liked the whole idea of winning pointless party games.

“I think it’s time I walk you home,” Dream mumbled after standing before you could answer. You followed him out of the restaurant, sending your friend and Sapnap an awkward grin. They had barely noticed anyway; too caught up in their own conversation. You jogged a bit to catch up to Dream as he shoved his fists in his pockets. “What the hell is wrong with you?” He grumbled.

You furrowed your brows, nudging his arm playfully. “What do you mean? I’m trying to get you laid!” You chided. He rolled his eyes again. “Loosen up! Come on, she’s pretty isn’t she.”

Dream sighed deeply. “Of course she’s pretty. Just quit with meddling in my sex life,” he hissed.

You laughed mockingly. “You are so tightly wound!” He pushed the door open to your building. You could tell you were pushing his buttons as he pursed his lips instead of firing something back at you. “You’re such a killjoy,” you joshed, pinching his side.

He swatted your hand away, attempting to ignore you. “Quit.”

“Fine, whatever. Go home and make fast with your hand.” That was it---the last push.

Dream grabbed your arm and yanked you down the hall behind him. You could practically see the steam rolling off his shoulders as he turned a corner and you began to grow tense. You knew he'd never hurt you but the sheer anxiety of what he was going to do next weighed on your conscience. Had you gone too far this time? You'd pushed him past his limit before, but he'd never taken you with him when he needed to remove himself from the situation.

You were shocked as he threw open the door to the communal showers, your brows knitting together in confusion as you began to claw at his hand. "Clay, stop! What are you doing?" You gritted, struggling against his grip. He threw open one of the stall doors and tossed you inside, your back hit the linoleum tiling with a quiet thump and you glared at him with scolding eyes as if to bite ‘don't you dare touch me’ into his skin.

He pursed his lips as if his anger was threatening to boil over and he turned the knob behind you, instantly soaking you and your clothes in freezing water. You painstakingly jumped for the dial and he grabbed your arm again, pulling you inches from his face. "You need to cool the fuck down. I'm serious!" He snapped.

Your eyes felt like they were going to pop out of your head in disbelief at the audacity he had. His jaw tensed as he glared at your features and you drew his arm closer, turning on your heel so he replaced you in the water. His reaction was subtle to the dowsing; instead, he released his grip on you. "What the hell is your problem!" You yelled. This was unknowingly becoming your breaking point. You hadn't woken up that day and realized today is the day I choose violence but Dream's medieval form of communicating with you was striking a hidden nerve.

"My problem? MY PROBLEM?" He let out an exasperated sigh, turning slightly to twist the knob for hot water before laying into you. Why he didn't just turn off the water was unbeknownst to you. "My problem is you!"

You rolled your eyes heavily. "Me?" You tsked at him. "Why don't you get a fucking life-"

"Are you really that fucking stupid?" He bit. Your disgusted look you made sure to exaggerate twisted something behind his eyes. The shower began to produce steam over his shoulders. Dream's hair had begun hanging in short ringlets around his ears. His long-sleeved t-shirt clung to his body enough that you could see every dip in his chest. Every breath he drew in to calm himself down rippled through his silhouette. In the slightest way, it seemed as if the dragon was finally baring his soft underbelly to you.

His hands balled into fists at your look of disbelief at him calling you dumb. He groaned deeply, bringing his palms to his eyes and gritting his teeth. He then pushed his fingers into his wet hair, plastering it back from framing his face. Dream's bright eyes studied you with his features set in stone. "How could you not realize?" He let out a short exhale, his hands seemingly gripping for his own thoughts as they moved with his search of words. "I know you aren't as aloof as you put off. I know you know that I-" he stopped himself short with an aggressive shrug of his shoulders. It was almost humoring to see him standing like a wet dog in front of you and at a loss for words. That big head of his was proving to be a difficult landscape for him to form sentences. "... That I-" he bit into his lip, frustration settling into his brow.

You rolled your eyes again, your wet clothes feeling uncomfortable as they began to shrink against certain parts of your body. The steam from the water was enveloping the two of you in the small space, but your close stance kept a breath of clearance in your visions. "Spit it out, Clay. Obviously, I'm too dumb to put two and two together. You're gonna have to man up and get over it," you snapped and his eyes flashed up to the ceiling.

He gritted his teeth again. "Fuck. What am I trying to say?" He hissed. The gears in his head were beginning to rust with overstimulation, and you could tell. He was hesitant as if debating what would be his next move. The tall man before you was slowly unraveling into unarticulated emotions. The minuscule thought tugged at your mind that Dream was attempting to tell you he felt something for you. It was oddly satisfying to juxtapose your ill-fated seven minutes in heaven experience when you had met him with the close, wet atmosphere you were in now. Even back then Dream couldn't figure out what to say.

He swallowed, his anger had melded into something less aggressive and more inwardly scorning. "I care about you," he blurted, his voice coming out uneven. He wasn't nervous and it seemed as if he'd practiced this in the mirror yet was crumbling under the pressure of you actually standing before him. "I care about you," he repeated, his face still tense and severe.

You were taken aback by his simple statement, awaiting his next move. You didn't dare arrest your eyes from his, your mind blurring about what to say to his confession. You knew that was big coming from him at the way it tugged at your heartstrings, making you blush in the ferocity of the steaming stall. The beat of silence was broken as he took a step toward you, taking your face into his large hands in a gentle gesture. His fingers threatened to snake into your hair as his thumb traced the bend in your jaw. Droplets of water fell off of him to splash against your sopping wet clothing, the warmth of his figure nearly pressed against yours sending rushes of goosebumps across the plain of your skin.

His eyes searched yours as he hesitated, as if savoring being close enough to taste you, yet the anticipation of sealing the fated and quarrelsome air between the two of you with his kiss was nearly too unrealistic for his mind to comprehend. The pad of his thumb brushed lightly against the flesh of your bottom lip as if he were wondering if the shade was their true color, all of his movements completely foiling the way he'd always handled you.

His look of desire and unsteadiness gave him the appearance of an explorer wandering around a foreign planet with the consistency of practice but restraint. You'd heard other girls talking about being with Dream---a fumbling night of drunken fun or a quick use and jading---but the Dream standing before you now seemed to be his own breed. You let your mind flicker to the fantasy that maybe the boy itching to mark you was a figment of him reserved and stocked only for you.

You found yourself leaning on your toes as his eyes began to close, drawing you in with his subtle caress. The water thundered down against him as his towering frame shielded you from the shower, the sound of its stream bouncing off the floor and your matted articles of clothing mixing with Dream's soft breath. As he pressed his lips against yours, it seemed like he was hesitant as if you'd snatch yourself away from his cradling like you always had, but sure enough, your sneakers were glued to the floor beneath you. Wherever you were going in the next few minutes would be to follow his lead.

His fingers dipped into your locks, bringing you deeper into his gesture of passion. Your mind clicked into the reality of the situation as your shoulders sank into a sense of calmness. Your hands found purchase around his waist, wanting to reassure him that you were reading his actions as your fingers traced the lines and dips in his back.

He kissed you with a needy passiveness that bled into the echoing taste of mint, bitter coffee, and the soft embrace of his mildly chapped lips. You'd been close enough to him in the past to dig your nose into his clean scent, but as he pressed against you, it was all you could focus on. He kissed you as if his lips were studying to be experts on your own; a kneading of exploratory gentleness met with a keen sense of wanting to pour everything unsaid between the two of you into this action. It was like he hungrily wanted to know the curvature of your mouth like the back of his hand.

He broke away from you breathlessly and your floating sense of calm clouded and compacted your words. You hesitated to open your eyes as you felt him settle his forehead against yours, not wanting to extract himself from you yet. You subtly enjoyed the fact of sharing air with him as you drew in a deep breath, the taste of him still lingering in your mouth. You wanted that taste to live on your tongue.

Clay stepped back, shrugging out of your hold reluctantly. His hand moved to settle over his mouth as if he was silently apologizing for the suddenness of that action. Your mind was running wild with the thought of him. You parted your lips, stunned enough that you could barely remember how to stand on your own let alone string together a sentence.

He swallowed, rubbing the back of his neck and avoiding your eyes. "I- um," his tongue darted across his lips and you yearned at the fact that you wanted to be pressed against him again, selfishly needing to be tangled among his long limbs or you'd surely die. "I'll see you around," he stated, undoubtedly noticing how verklempt you were and what kind of effect he'd had on you.

He moved to step around you and your eyes glued to where he was standing before. He halted when his shoulder brushed against yours, his gaze turning to trace against your features as you struggled to meet his eyes. You knew he was biting back a smirk as he went on his way again, leaving you to decompose at the mental imagery of him.

You heard the door swing shut behind him and you pushed your wet hair away from your face, turning off the water. As you stepped from the stall, you met eyes with a girl who perked an eyebrow in your direction. She froze in the middle of brushing her teeth, having obviously seen Clay leave, and at the sight of you, she smirked. “Alright, alright. I see you, Elizabeth Bennett,” she winked, swaying a bit before continuing on with her routine.

Dream Tag List: (follow this link to be added ;))

@karlkitten @pluto-dizzz @more-like-reyna @honk-izzie-was-taken @marrymetheonott @froggyy06 @ghoulandghost @savingpluto @marshmallow-babe @drunkpumpkincake @unstableye @tinyegg @behzzyboo @darphobic @twist3dtinkerbell @sparkletash @lindsayhunz @shroomieissmall @mintmochiii @clubfairy

[malereader-inserts]

Chamber of Reflection

Fandom: BBC Sherlock Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Male!Reader Summary: Oh dearest Sherlock, are you ready to move on? Word Count: 2,329 Warning: Blood and Death

“I don’t believe in love.”

You scoff out a laughter before turning to look at them, your smile dropped as you looked at them incredulously, “You’re kidding me right?”

“No?” They questioned back as if it was totally obvious because that’s how they were as a person, “I just don’t believe in love.”

“Impossible,” You shake your head, “Everyone believes in love, you, you’re different. You believe you don’t deserve love. That’s a whole different thing.”

Sherlock rolls his eyes, “Same thing.”

“Absolutely not, Sherlock,” You folded your arms over your chest, “Your mother loves you, that’s family love. John loves you, that’s platonic love. I love you.”

“What type of love is that?”

“Figure it out, smartass.”

He never really figured it out.

Sherlock was smart, but he’s dumb at the same time. 

He could rattle your ear off with different topics that he was interested in. He could give you a rundown about who you are and he probably knew you better than you knew yourself. But, give him a topic on a basic thing - he’ll malfunction. 

“The planets? Sherlock, surely you couldn’t have deleted that out your head.”

“You underestimate me, (Y/n).”

“Clearly,” You replied dryly, rolling your eyes, “But, I know you didn’t bring me here to talk about what basic stuff you’ve decided to ignore or have deleted from your so-called hardware.”

“At least you’re able to keep up with me,” Sherlock comments as you give yourself a little nod to the side as acknowledgement.

“Well, what is it?”

“Talk to me more about love, please.”

You narrow your eye at him, tilting your head to the side for a second, you were suspicious of his intention before sighing and tending to his question - after all, it is rare to have Sherlock say please, it’s not an opportunity to pass up.

“How desperate must you be for this information as you did say please.”

“Don’t mock me.”

“Alright,” you had your hands up in defence, “Well, love is different to each person and I can’t really help you that much Sherlock because it’s a learning process and it’ll be brutal. In a...somewhat good way.”

“That doesn’t explain anything at all!”

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head, “When you love someone, you just kinda know.”

“Right.”

“And...”

“Well, spit it out.”

You give him a soft smile, almost as if you knew something he didn’t know. Like you had to bit your tongue and refuse to tell him. He looks at your eyes, there is a glint of sadness, though he doesn’t comment on it as he allows you to speak.

“Love is going to ruin you someday, it doesn't matter if you don't believe in love, it doesn't matter if you think that you don't have the capacity to love someone, nothing matters. What matter is that one day you will fall in love and fall so hard that it will ruin you to the point that you will not be able to think correctly, to the point that your illness and cure both will be the love of your life, love will ruin you to the point you will look for sanity in insanity.”

“Back again so soon, Sherlock?”

He doesn’t answer you as he stands across from where you had claimed as your spot, you tilt your head in confusion at his silence, Sherlock loves to talk so why isn’t he talking. 

“Must be a rough day then, ay Sherlock?” You continue to talk, “I don’t blame you, having a fight with your best friend and then your brother being annoying as ever - Mycroft just doesn’t shut up.”

“How do you know about my day, this is the first time I’ve seen you this week?” Sherlock questions.

You knitted your eyebrows together, your lips pursed together, as you give him room to think before interrupting.

“When will you come to the terms that you’re the one who killed me?”

At that moment, Sherlock stops. If a record of music was playing then it did the scratching halt. Sherlock looks over to your way, he didn’t realise that at some point he had stopped looking at you, you sat there with your arms crossed over your chest.

“You’re not dead.”

“Not in your mind palace, Sherlock,” You say, you look at your surrounding, “In here, I’m very much...alive.”

“You’re not dead,” Sherlock stammers out, blinking frantically, “You’re here, in front of me.”

You dismissed his words, “Funny, each time you come to talk to me, we’re in the same room you killed me in. I have to give you props, though, you really have memorised the room I died.”

“It was your house.”

“Yeah!” You snapped your finger and pointed to him, “You remembered, I’m slightly touched.”

“You can’t be dead.”

“And we’re back to denial,” You hummed, sitting comfortably on the edge of the sink, “Look around you Sherlock, you’re just blocking and deleting things out.”

“No, I am not.”

“Look at the blood, Sherlock.”

Your voice was firm as he shuts his eyes, hoping you had calm down because he could clearly hear anger behind the words you spat. Sherlock opens his eyes and there, he saw the full picture. 

You sat on the sink of the kitchen, behind you were the windows and adjacent to your head was cabinets. Both were painted with the splatter of blood. He looked at your appearance, there was red upon your hands and your clothes...

Your clothes, every time he had visited you, you were still in the same clothes - he wouldn’t have mentioned anything to you about it, he knows from you and John that pointing stuff out can be offensive. 

Your clothes, they were drenched in blood - your blood. 

“Look me in the eyes, Sherlock, look at me.”

Sherlock doesn’t want to, he wants to rearrange the whole scenario and pretend that everything was rainbows and happy, yet he looked at you. He stared deep into your eyes and had to stop himself from gagging at the scene.

There was a bullet hole at your forehead, dried blood seems to drip from the wound when it was fresh. 

“Don’t you remember Sherlock?” You asked, looking at him, “You killed, but at what cost?”

“I-”

“I mean, I know why you killed me, after all, I’m just living in your head so I get to know about what you’re thinking and all. But, I really want to hear it from your own mouth.”

Sherlock felt like he was stuck in this nightmare because essentially he was, he couldn’t just snap back into reality or wake up from his sleep. He felt like you had restraints on him and he’s unable to breakthrough.

“I killed you...” He murmurs as you lean forward, “I killed you because I loved you.”

You chuckled, softly, “Love, it makes you do real crazy things.”

See, Sherlock kept you in his head because you were important to him. You were his first and only love, you and Sherlock have known each other since primary school. You had been his only friend, even if he kept pushing you away. 

You were the only one who could keep up with his smarts and his weird little thinking, but you were by his side - his first best friend. The man he loved. When the two of you got into high school, you and him were often seen together. You humanised Sherlock, back then he understood what it means to feel.

He was human back then, not this sociopathic man that he grew up to be. Sherlock loved you, just like you loved him. Even if you never really said anything out loud, he knew that you loved him with the way you grabbed him by his wrist and leading him away, it was the soft smile, gentle looks and caring words. 

He wished he was able to spend a little longer being your boyfriend because you two managed fess up your feelings when you were eighteen. You were about to go to University, away from Sherlock. He wished he had mustered the courage to ask you to be his boyfriend years before.

“Sherlock, I’m not mad that you killed me.”

Sherlock snapped back into his room with you, you looked at him with the same caring eyes he grew up with, he tilts his head in confusion, he’s missing something in this memory - did he block it out or did he deleted it forever?

“They would have killed me anyway, I don’t have a life further than this Sherlock, both you and I know this,” He listens to your tender voice carefully, you’re no longer angry at him just angry that Sherlock refuses to move on, “You and I did it, Sherlock, you framed the murder perfectly on them.”

Them.

Who was them?

Sherlock looks at you before he hurled himself into the memory.

“You’re bleeding!”

“I’m quite aware of that Sherlock!”

Sherlock stands by the doorway of the kitchen, it’s messy as you sat on the sink, lifting your shirt to see the wound. You cringed, even Sherlock couldn’t remember what had happened to make you look like this and losing blood rapidly.

“You’re being remarkably calm about this.”

“Thanks, it’s the shock. Give me fifteen minutes, the screaming will happen,” You say, pulling your shirt down and you looking at your boyfriend.

“We need to take you to the hospital.”

“Absolutely not, Sherlock, if they found out I went there. They’ll kill me!”

“They’ll kill you either way!” Sherlock pressed on, “Please, there must be some other way.” 

“You kill me,” You said almost immediately, you looked at him with sharp eyes.

“No, (Y/n), no, are you an idiot?” Sherlock hissed at you, “There is another way, we just have to think about it.”

“We don’t have time to think, Sherlock,” You admitted, “They kill me, they’ll hind the evidence and go live another day, free, do you want that for me?”

“Of course not!” Sherlock was offended that you would suggest that, “I can prove that they kill you, I can do it - you can trust me.”

“I trust you, Sher,” You say, desperate and lovingly, “But, wouldn’t it be better to frame them?”

Sherlock stood there, weighing out the pros and cons in your thinking. Perhaps it was clouded, his judgement as he sees you point out a gun on the kitchen table and reminding him to use a glove so they don’t pick up any of his fingerprints. 

What was going through Sherlock’s mind? He wouldn’t be able to tell you, because when he aimed the gun at you there was no thought behind his eyes. You swallowed nervously.

“Hey, Sherlock?”

“Yes?”

“Just know I love you, and I will never hold it against you.” 

“I know.”

“Sherlock?” He looks back at you, “Oh, good, you’re responsive.”

“I never said I love you.”

“Oh, Sherlock,” you laughed, he pretends that it didn’t slightly hurt him, “You think I didn’t know?”

Sherlock looked down then back up at you, you were back in clean clothes and the surrounding of your kitchen was clean. Though, you didn’t look phased. 

“I mean-”

You raised an eyebrow, “You did at least frame them right? My parents?”

Sherlock knitted his eyebrows, “No.”

“No?”

“No.”

“Oh.”

Sherlock looks at you, watches you breathe in and out, there was a clear disappointment and you had stopped intensely watching him. You turn to look back at him, he was surprised to see you smile at him as you clapped your hand.

“Well, I’m not going to shy away from saying that I am disappointed, perhaps that’s why you blocked out the memory,” You spoke, crossing your arms.

“I can fix it!”

“Can you?”

“I made a name for myself, (Y/n), Mycroft can help me as well as Craig-”

“Greg-”

“Whatever, and we can finally bring you justice, maybe you could be at peace.”

“It’s not me that I’m concern for peace, Sherlock, you’re the one who keeps me alive in your mind palace,” You admitted as you lay down the reality of Sherlock, “It’s time to let me go. The question is: Are you ready?”

Mycroft comes knocking at the door, he was greeted by John.

“Sherlock is busy,” John says from his armchair as Mycroft enters without a proper invite. 

Mycroft looks around the room before stopping at the bookshelves, a picture frame that was permanently situated as face down was now standing, showing the picture that was kept hidden from the world.

Mycroft makes his way towards it as John looks at him.

“Sherlock put it up yesterday, along with a new case.”

“Oh? Is that so?” Mycroft leered, softly smiling to himself, “What’s the case about?”

“The murder of (Y/n) (L/n), Sherlock is convinced that it wasn’t suicide, though I don’t know how he knows about the case, that was closed over a decade ago - at least that’s was Lestrade said.”

“Watson, do you know who is standing next to Sherlock in this picture?”

John looked at the picture, he could recognise Sherlock when he was younger. he still had the curls and bright blue eyes, standing straight up, next to him was a boy smiling and had his arm over the sociopath’s shoulder - though back then, you could hardly call Sherlock a sociopath.

“No?”

“That is (Y/n) (L/n),” Mycroft says as John’s eyebrow raised up, “He is the reason why Sherlock snapped and changed in his behaviour. His death caused Sherlock to lose his pathway.”

“He means a lot to Sherlock?”

“Well, he is the only person Sherlock truly love romantically. Perhaps the first and love of Sherlock.”

“Sherlock loved him?”

“He still does, it’s why he’s reopening this case because dear Watson, between us two and Sherlock. This is not a case to solve a murder, this is to frame someone of murder and we’re going to help him.”

[quirrrky]

06. WRITE FOR YOU 「FICTION」

『MASTERLIST』  « PREV ⁃ NXT »

𖧵 1.5k+ words 𖧵 Your childhood best friend, Keiji is the editor of your romance novel and he can;t figure out that the male lead is him. 𖧵 oblivious/mutual pining, friends to lovers? unrequited love?

The towel hung over his head as he dried his hair. He sighed, fresh out of bath. From the bus until he got home, he was bothered by his 'unusual' actions. He heavily sat down at the edge of his bed, head still full of thoughts of you and your little romance novel.

Keiji knew you write so well, but you exceeded his expectations that he could relate with the characters a lot. You were just so good at being realistic that even he, himself, was feeling all the emotions that the male character was going through. For a second, with everything that happened today, he thought that he was the male lead. Scary.

Augh! He plopped himself in bed. Stop. It's just a goddamn story. Was he this hopeless romantic that he was getting so pumped up with the idea of being the male lead? What's wrong him? Everything.

Maybe he was just tired and his brain stop functioning well. He pinched close his eyes, muttering in his head: sleep, sleep, sleep like it's a mantra. His phone pinged. Thinking it was you, or maybe not, or maybe it's you, he instantly scampered to fetch his phone on the bedside table.

▎Y/N 🍡 thanks for today! I still can't forget about the takoyaki...I think I'm gonna dream of it tonight 😅

His eyes lit up and the seriousness was wiped away from his face the moment he saw it was you.

▎K 🤓 just the takoyaki?

Your eyes widened and your heart beat fast. What else should you dream about?

▎Y/N 🍡 what do you mean????

▎K 🤓 you ate a lot

▎Y/N 🍡 awwww... yeah

What was that? Did you seriously expect that he'd ask you to dream of him too or the time you spent together? In fiction...In fiction, it would work that way but you're in real life.

▎K 🤓 I'll bring you somewhere better next time

He honestly wanted to bring you to Kyoto next time.

▎Y/N 🍡 next time?

You weren't really expecting a next time, though. You just couldn't disappear into thin air like and ghost him because of your issues. At least, you wanted to let him know and do things gradually.

▎K 🤓 yes, next time

▎Y/N 🍡 oh

Staring at his phone, no further message came from you. But he still stared at it, until he caught himself grinning like an idiot. Grinning while texting...He recalled the same scene in your book. He mentally beat himself. How long had he been doing that? Was he subconsciously mimicking the events in your story?

With knitted eyebrows, he placed his phone back on the bedside table. He'd never take a look at his phone again. Not tonight. He needed to clear his head and exchanging texts with you won't help him. Anyway, you'd just think that he had fallen asleep just like usual. He figured that he needed space to flush your story from his subconscious.

With eyes closed, he meditated, but his hand flew to grab his phone as soon as it rang.

"Y/N?" He immediately greeted, smiling in anticipation.

"Akaashiiiii!"

He deadpanned. "Ah, Bokuto-san." Why was he disappointed? What was he even expecting? That you would call him? "Why are you calling this late?"

"Gee, I know you and Y/N-chan are still awake."

"What do you mean?" Keiji's eyes widened in confusion, his voice almost sharp.

"Huh? You always stay up late talking with Y/N-chan, right?"

"I-"

"Don't mind! Don't mind! We have a game next week! I'mma see you guys there, 'kay?" His former captain reminded him.

"Yes, we'll be watching. We'll be there."

It didn't take long as Bokuto needed to get his power sleep and they hung up.

Stay up late talking with Y/N...Before Keiji could even process what Bokuto told him, his phone pinged with a message from you.

▎Y/N 🍡 okay, next time

His face lit up as he continued your conversation, talking about anything under the moon, until the moon was about to retire and was now going to be replaced by the sun.

▎K 🤓 because all you talk to me about is food I replaced your emoji in my contacts with this 🍡

▎Y/N 🍡 that reminded me of the dango we ate awhile ago!!! in speaking of emoji do you wanna know what I assign to you?

▎K 🤓 ????

▎Y/N 🍡 🤓 looks like you ever since you got your glasses

▎K 🤓 hey, that doesn't look like me replace

Akaashi Keiji, who was known to be a very responsible individual, forgot that it was already approaching 3 AM still texting non-sense with you, until you both just fell asleep with your phones in your hands.

Well, it wasn't uncommon that your convo would take even up until dawn. Nothing new.

The light seeped through the window struck his eyes, waking him up. He rubbed his eyes and the very first thing he did was look at his phone, not because of the time...

▎Y/N 🍡 Good morning! 🤓

He smiled. Again, nothing new.

▎K 🤓 good morning too no more of that emoji

Sitting up from his bed, he ran a hand over his face and sighed. He told himself that he needed space yet he couldn't keep himself from talking with you. Out of sight, out of mind, but he couldn't just ignore you. It felt so wrong for him to have a day without speaking to you, even if he just have five minutes to spare.

You know it's just that...one day, you'd wake up and the normal things you usually do would be different. It's like suddenly you wake up and you're...

He drew out a long exhale.

These thoughts and emotions...these were something he's not used to deal with. He's usually well-calculated, but right now he couldn't seem to find the perfect formula to solve you. Oh, he meant your novel. But why did he think it's you? It's your novel. Or maybe it's you. No, never mind.

He surrendered.

He's over analyzing things, which was counterproductive and would never yield better results. He needed time to discern you. But right now, he'd letting things be and won't over think it. He had responsibilities to attend to and he wouldn't finish anything dilly-dallying like this.

Yes, as you would've expected.

He's failing miserably.

Akaashi Keiji never failed. Not one damn exam in his life. However, the once calm man now overtly conscious of his phone activities? He couldn't seem to let go of it, checking on his screen from time to time. And whenever an alert from you would arrive, he'd immediately take a look at it.

Ironic Process Theory. The more he tried to not think about it, the more the thoughts of it surface. That's the explanation he found on the internet and the fact the he looked it up on Google meant that he's serious about this. He's not acting like himself. Like, there's something at the back of his brain, trying to break free to his awareness.

That's what he thought.

But your novel said it's different. According to you, it's...it's...

Keiji sighed. He blankly stared at his reflection on his now shut-down computer. Wait- Did he really look like that emoji?

He groaned out of frustration and heavily laid his head on his office table. He's turning nuts now. It was already his afternoon break yet he felt so beat and lost. It might not seem that way on the outside, but it's definitely that way from within. He's a little proud though, he finished all his tasks earlier than expected because he wanted to distract himself with work and to get finished early so he'd have time to sort things out.

He opened up his e-reader to review your work again. And as luck would have it, he was doomed. The current chapter he's now in talked about the frustrations of the male lead into accepting his feelings.

It's scary.

It's scary how you captured what he was feeling at the moment through the male lead. It was as if, it was...him. Damn! He shouldn't get sidetracked.

Maybe, he focused on the male lead too much that he's now absorbing every bit of him and was now becoming his manifestation in real life.

Getting himself to sit upright, he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He fetched the printed copy of your manuscript from his drawer and inspected your writing right from the beginning, now shifting his focus on the female lead. Come to think of it, the female lead's point of view sounded so much like you. Well, it's a given since you were the writer, but her decisions and the way she reacts, it's very very you.

Even the fact that she found it hard to confess her own feelings. That was kind of like you.

There's just so much of you in her that Keiji felt like he's with you whenever he reads your work. Maybe that's why he could relate with the male lead a lot.

However, there's still something...missing. It felt incomplete. He skimmed and went back to several chapters, that's when he figured out the missing piece. Somehow, he had an inkling that he must be the one to complete it.

A/N: Next update will be this friday and it's gonna be super fun! <33 also, intending to end this series by chapter 10 ToT TAGLIST: drop this emoji 🍁 on my ask box to be added

🍁 @bethbat @moon-mars-ikemen @tessabrown101 @bakaashit @tobibam @vicolangelo @god-has-forsaken-me @avis-writeshq @putmeinyourdeathnote

REBLOGS ARE DEEPLY APPRECIATED ♡ Please help me reach other viewers. Thank you so so much!

© quirrrky 2021 - All rights reserved. No work shall be reproduced, reposted, modified, translated in any form or by any means. ✧ DAYDREAM MUSEUM ✧

[everlarkficexchange]

That’s Just Tachy

Written by: @everybirdfellsilent

Prompt 153: Best friends!Everlark who have always been in love with one another. Katniss is in a pretty serious accident, of course Peeta visits her every single day. He notices that every time he enters the room her heart monitor beeps due to elevated heart rate. He notices and finally mentions to a mutual friend (Madge? Finnick?) how it’s sweet that she gets excited to see her friends, said friend rolls eyes and is like uh yeah ok “friend”. Peeta’s all what? Cue suspicion so next time he visits her he takes it a step further and gives little touches (brushes her hair back, strokes her cheek, grazes her arm? LET IT BURN) to see what happens. Sure enough her HR skyrockets. Tell us all the sweet and suspenseful details :))) [submitted by @lovely-tothe-bone] (@peetamewllark)

I do not own The Hunger Games or it’s characters. All credit where credit is due.

Thank you to @xteenwolfwritingsx, @smartalexy, and @papofglencoe for looking this over for me!

Warnings: Some language. (I think?) Mostly just fluff, though. (Rated K-Teen.)

Word count: 6,712

A/N: This didn’t turn out quite how I wanted, but it is what it is. 😆 It was a 2k document I sat down to flush out and suddenly it was over 6k words, so I figured it was time. I like to write where you just jump right in kind of like a TV show, but that didn’t really work for this prompt, and was a sort of learning curve for me. But I still hope you all like it! This was fun to write, and I have loved this prompt from the beginning. (Especially the “LET IT BURN”. Haha! So here are my two lovesick idiots who don’t know it until it’s right in front of their face. I have missed writing for them.)

Xxx

“You guys coming?” Jo called from up at the front of the group as they made their way across the quad. 

Glancing back over her shoulder, Johanna stopped, effectively stopping Gale and Finnick as well, and they all stared at the two stragglers of the group who were locked in some kind of glare off. 

“I don’t trust him,” Katniss stated, her eyes never wavering from his. 

“Me?!” Peeta cried in disbelief. “You’re the one with impeccable aim and on the archery team, why in the world am I the bigger threat here?”

“Because you started it.”

Gale huffed. “Started what?”

“Poking me in the sides at the most inopportune moments all day.”

Gale sighed heavily. “Catnip….”

Her head snapped his way, the glare now on him, she missed the two thumbs up Peeta sent Gale from behind her in thanks. “You know I hate that nickna-”

The rest of her sentence stopped abruptly as she felt two strong and familiar hands start to play her sides like a piano, and it was a wonder she avoided letting out a screech. Batting the hands away with her own, using the thin folder in her hand to swat at them as they tried to come near again, she couldn’t help the smile that crawled across her face, muttering nonsense at the lighthearted taunts Peeta sent her way. 

Finnick rolled his eyes, smiling almost imperceptibly. “Come on, let the lovebirds be.”

As the three up ahead continued on, Peeta and Katniss called a truce, both breathing heavily, an errant chuckle here and there the only noise as they caught their breath. 

“So are you meeting up with Haymitch before work today?” Peeta asked, staring at the ground as they began to follow their friends. 

“Yup,” Katniss nodded, looking at the ground herself, but glancing over at Peeta every now and then. Each time made her heart race just a little bit more, and she wasn’t quite sure how that made her feel. “I need to talk to him about enrolling in one more course, or how to get some extra hours somehow.”

“Well, we’ll meet up when you’re off work later, then, and you can tell me how it went.” He looked up and right at her. “And, you know, if Haymitch doesn’t have any ideas, I can always try and talk to our professors and see where that gets us.” His voice was smooth and deep, and he playfully bumped shoulders with her as they continued to walk. 

She couldn’t help but blush at the implication, knowing Peeta could sell anything to anyone with the way he spoke. “I’ll think about it,” she managed to get out. “But I have to work late tonight, so I’ll just text you when I get off, and we’ll go from there. Sound good?”

“Sure,” he said, sticking his hands in his pockets, and she couldn’t help but sigh in relief knowing he wouldn’t be poking her for the foreseeable future, making him smirk. “How late?”

“I’m not sure exactly. They just said some may need to stay late.” She shrugged, clutching her folder close to her chest. “But not too late, I don’t think. Definitely before midnight.”

“I’ll see you at midnight, then.”

Xxx

She’d been in an accident. An awful, terrible accident. 

There were more details, he was sure, but his mind tuned out of any further conversation past that. Images flashed in his mind, everything from horrendous to benign, of the condition she was in, or would be in. Did she need surgery? Did she need a kidney? A really big bandaid?

All he knew was that he’d be there for her. They all would. Because that’s what friends do. They protect each other, it’s just what they do.

Xxx

They went in as a group, right before visiting hours were over that same day. 

He didn’t know what exactly he was expecting, but he still had a breath catch in his chest at the sight of her. 

Gale and Johanna were teary eyed as they walked around to the opposite side of the bed, Gale gently taking Katniss’ hand in his where it lay beside her on the bed, and Jo hanging back behind him, almost as if to have a barrier between her and the situation. 

Finnick stood beside Peeta on the opposite side, up by her head, and rested his hand beside her head, supporting his weight. Normally one for a playful nudge or flirtatious tuck of hair behind one’s ear, his lack of physical touch and in fact distance between his hand and her spoke volumes. “Hey, Katniss,” he said softly. The hitch in his voice not missed by anyone in the room, or the shuddering breath he took in after. 

Her eyes fluttered open, and while still somewhat glassy from the pain medicine pumping through her system, she let out a tentative smile, and gently squeezed Gale’s hand back. “Hey,” voice scratchy from lack of use. “What-” she coughed a rattling cough, making everybody in the room cringe. “What happened?”

“You were in an accident,” Finnick’s voice came out much stronger than before, relief painting his tone. “No one else was hurt, they think you just fell asleep at the wheel coming home from work.”

Her pulse kicked up just slightly at the info, but her typical poker face was in full swing. 

“Don’t worry, your job is giving you paid leave until you are totally recovered. You shouldn’t have been working that late, anyway.”

Her eyes flicked over to Peeta as he spoke, her heart monitor seeming to glitch as it registered a missed beat. 

“They just don’t want a lawsuit,” Johanna muttered, causing Katniss to laugh, which turned into a major coughing fit. 

A nurse poked her head in, pushing some buttons on machines that started to let off incessant beeping, and letting them know visiting hours were over. 

They all filed from the room, including the nurse, but Peeta stayed behind. Reaching out to take her hand in his left, he gave it a squeeze, and smiled. “I’ll be back by tomorrow. We’ll go over the assignments coming up.” 

Her heart monitor started an intermittent beeping again, a light flashing at the top. “Shhhhhh, it’s okay.” He reached up to brush a piece of hair behind her ear, and the monitor started going crazy, the nurse coming in, lightly scolding him and ushering him from the room. Turning off all the beeping, the only sound was Katniss’ shallow breathing and rapid heart rate. 

One last squeeze to her hand, and he was out the door. He faintly heard the nurse say, “Calm down, honey, your boyfriend can come back by tomorrow.”

Then the monitors started going off again. 

Xxx

True to his word, the next day Peeta showed up as soon as his last class was over, giving him just a few hours with her, as opposed to every other day when his schedule allowed most of the afternoon, if she’d let him stay. 

He smiled at the thought. She did love her time alone. But however long she’d let him stay, he would.

Rounding the corner into her room, he saw Haymitch on the other side of the bed with his hand on her shoulder, grinning down at her, and Katniss sitting more upright than the night before scowling up at him.

Following Haymitch’s glance up, she met Peeta’s eyes, and almost instantly startled away to look at the floor when her heart monitor started beeping like the night before. 

Looking at it with knit eyebrows and a slight smirk, he made his way into the room. “So you got defective machines, huh?”

Pushing a button on the rail of the bed to make the head go up slightly, she sat a little further up, muttering, “Something like that….”

Haymitch snickered, quickly coughing to cover it up, moving to the recliner in the corner of the room, observing them over the top of a magazine he grabbed from atop a nearby table. 

At some point during the exchange, a nurse must have come in and turned off the alert, though Peeta still noticed the rapid beeping of her pulse. 

Holding up the assignments, giving them a little jiggle and raising an eyebrow in question, Peeta set them down on the little rolling table over her on the bed when she gave him a little nod.

Reaching out to touch a few pages absently, she finally muttered in a scratchy voice, “You came back.”

It took a moment before Peeta realized she was talking to him, but he quickly shook his head and said, “I said I would.”

They stared at each other for a moment before the monitor started beeping again, Katniss sighing and reaching out to push a button and silence it. Looking back to Peeta, she held his gaze before darting it all over the room, looking anywhere but him. “They said I could do that.”

Haymitch snorted from behind the magazine, earning daggers of a glare from her. 

“Thanks for coming by, Haymitch. You really didn’t need to.” Her tone was sincere in her thanks, but also very clear in her sarcasm. 

“Nonsense, sweetheart!” He lowered the magazine to his lap, which made a slapping sound against his thighs. Feet propped up on the footrest of the recliner, legs crossed at the ankles, he just smiled. “I’m your advisor, and I’m here to advise in any way I can.” He glanced at Peeta. “On whoever I can.”

He snickered, blocking the tissue box she threw at him with his arm, before pulling the magazine back up to read. 

Chuckling softly, Peeta pulled up a nearby chair to sit next to Katniss. “Luckily, we have all the same classes, except for one, which Finnick will bring by. He gets off before me, so he said he would swing by on his way home.”

Katniss just nodded, staring at the pile of papers on the little table. 

The nurse came in with a little cup of pills. “Time for your medicine!” She glanced at Peeta and smiled. “See? I told you your boyfriend could come back!”

Katniss started choking on the water she had used to take the pills, spluttering as Haymitch guffawed in the corner. 

“He’s not my boyfriend,” she choked out, taking another quick sip as the nurse pushed the button to silence the alert to her elevated pulse yet again, not even sparing it a glance, taking the empty cup when Katniss was done with a smirk. 

The nurse looked at Peeta with a raised eyebrow.

“Yup, just friends,” he clarified, and wasn’t really sure if he liked the way that made him feel.

“She just really loves her friends. Close knit. Tight bond,” Haymitch said emphatically to the nurse. 

She smiled at him. “I see.”

Xxx

The next day Peeta sat next to Finnick in one of their shared classes, in the back row of the stadium like seating. Finnick leaned back in his chair, hands knit behind his head like he was laying out in the sun lounging on a pool float somewhere.

After a few moments Finnick turned his head just slightly toward Peeta on his right, his eyes still on the ceiling. “So what you’re telling me, is her pulse was elevated the whole time you were there?”

“Yeah,” Peeta said, tossing his hands up a little in exasperation and letting them lightly slap back down on to the desktop. “I was concerned at first, but then,” he smiled, looking down to the desktop for a moment, playing with his pencil, then looking forward again. “Then I realized it was whenever we talked, specifically, not Haymitch or the nurse, and I put it together. She’s just really glad to see her friends, I think. I mean, I don’t blame her, that place is all greys and whites and blah.”

When Finnick didn’t respond, Peeta looked to his left to find Finnick still splayed back, but looking right at him. “Just ‘blah’?” He stared blankly at Peeta. “You think she’s happy - so happy it sets off alarms - that her friends are bringing a dash of color into her world?”

“….Yeah?” Peeta was hesitant to answer, shrugging his shoulders as he responded. 

Rolling his eyes, Finnick rolled his head back toward the ceiling with the movement, scoffing and letting out a small chuckle. “Uh, yeah. Okay, ‘friend’.”

“What-” Peeta huffed, looking for the right words, “What are you- What do you even mean, Finnick?”

Finnick shrugged with a smirk, everyone quieting down when the teacher walked in. Looking to his friends one more time, Finnick spoke in a hushed tone as the teacher began the lecture. “You’re a great friend, Peeta.”

They both looked forward toward the lecture happening in front of them, but Peeta wasn’t absorbing anything, his mind going a million miles a minute trying to figure out what Finnick meant. 

He had his suspicions, but, no…. Surely not. Finnick was crazy.

Xxx

He had waited until the end of the visit to test Finnick’s theory. 

As he went over the notes he had taken, reading them aloud to Katniss while she sat with the bed a little straighter up than the day before, her head back and eyes closed while she listened, he kept looking at her. Wondered what was going on in her head. Silently daring her to open her eyes and meet his. 

Shaking his head as Finnick’s voice echoed in his head, he went back to staring at the paper as he read, not even looking up.

The medicine she was on for pain made everything blurry, so he had volunteered to read to her. But as he went on, he found himself unconsciously speaking to the rhythm of her heart monitor, her pulse holding steady for the time being. And he couldn’t help the little grin that came across his face.

“And that’s it,” he said, closing his notebook and looking up to see Katniss blinking her eyes open, letting them readjust to the hospital room’s bright lights. 

“Thank you,” she said softly, her voice a little stronger than the day before. 

Reaching out like the day she came in here, he gently took her hand in his, giving it a soft squeeze. “Don’t mention it.”

He glanced to the monitor that registered what looked to be a missed beat or two, but her pulse stayed fairly even, going slightly higher, but not enough to set off any alarm bells - on the machine or in his head.

The nurse came by and poked her head in the door, announcing that visiting hours were almost over, then came all the way in to the other side of the bed. 

Katniss looked at the needle in her hand with disgust. “I hate this medicine,” she said offhandedly. “It is supposed to help me sleep, but it just gives me nightmares.” Looking at Peeta as the nurse injected the medicine into her IV, her pulse started to quicken. 

Absentmindedly packing up his stuff, Peeta looked to the monitor when it finally started beeping and flashing. Swinging his backpack onto his shoulder, he noticed a particularly high spike, setting off new alarms he hadn’t heard before, and he looked to Katniss worriedly. 

As the nurse came around the foot of the bed to turn off the machines, fiddling with them after the blaring stopped, Katniss spoke quietly, “Peeta. Stay with me?”

It was a question, not a statement or demand, and he so wanted to give in and ease her mind as she fell asleep, but visiting hours were over. 

Katniss looked like she was starting to drift off to sleep, reaching for him blindly with the hand he had held moments before. 

The nurse looked between them, smiled and winked at Peeta as she made her way out of the room. “I’ll come check on her in a few hours. You know, she is allowed one person to stay with her.”

Setting his backpack on the ground, Peeta went to the hand still outstretched for him, and held it tight. 

“Peeta?” Her voice was small and barely awake.

“Yeah. I’m here. Go back to sleep.” He went to go over to the recliner in the corner, but her hand clutched his with a strength he didn’t think had returned to her yet, keeping him beside her. 

“Stay with me.”

This time it wasn’t a question but a statement, a demand, and it made him smile. Glancing to the monitor again, he saw her heart rate settle back down as the chair he had moved over earlier scraped against the floor as he pulled it closer to her bedside, still clutching her hand tightly in his own.

“Always,” he said matter of factly, as if any other answer were wrong. 

Resting his chin on his hand, giving hers one last squeeze, he stared at her and smiled softly. He found himself yawning and drifting off to sleep soon, preparing for the nightmares, and dreading the moment he would finally have to let go.

Xxx

Peeta woke to sunlight hitting his eyes, blinking them open only to squint and lift up his left arm to block the rays slipping through the blinds. Looking toward Katniss, he saw her staring at him, already wide awake, and she even smiled a little bit. 

“Good morning,” she said, her voice leaps and bounds better than previous days. 

“Morning,” Peeta mumbled, sitting up from where his head still rested on his hand, groaning at his stiff back stretching for the first time in hours, and swiping at his face, hoping he hadn’t drooled in his sleep. His hand froze over his eye as he blearily gave it a rub when he heard a giggle.

Eyes snapping to Katniss, he saw her smiling broadly and uninhibited. “You really aren’t a morning person, are you?” she asked.

Yawning, Peeta spoke through the stretch. “You’re really a morning person, aren’t you?”

She threw her head back and laughed the first real laugh he had heard in days. Leaving her head back against the bed she sighed. “No,” she said honestly, and they both chuckled. “No, I’m really not, but that was the first night of sleep I have had since being here, and I guess I needed it, so thank you.”

Reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, Peeta let his hand linger, and heard the monitor spike, making him smile. “I can tell. Your hair is crazy.” 

She scowled at him but it melted into a chuckle and pink cheeks.

Letting his hand fall slightly, down to her cheeks, he traced the back of his finger over her blush. “You’re getting your color back. That’s good.”

She reached up to grab his wrist gently, groaning what sounded an embarrassed reply. 

“Hang on,” he mumbled, and she lightly held on to his wrist as he moved down to trace her lips with his thumb.

Her breath hitched and the monitor beeped faster again. 

Grinning impishly, he swiped his thumb on the side of her mouth as if wiping something off, and said softly, “You drool.”

She shoved his hand away, once again trying to scowl but ended up snickering along with him as he jokingly wiped his hand on his jeans, making a ridiculous face before chuckling himself.

Xxx

Since it was a Saturday, Peeta took his time, lingering at her bedside, and lounging in the chair he had slept in, despite Katniss telling him repeatedly to go sit in the recliner in the corner, so he would be more comfortable. 

Instead of comfort, he took the chance to sit by her and steal a glance every now and then, since he no longer got to do it in class. He always felt a sense of calm when looking at her, much like last night, when Katniss’ heart rate had calmed down when he agreed to stay. Something just felt right. 

They brought her a breakfast tray, if it could even be called that. Peeta stared at the tray just like it that sat in his lap, thanking the nurse who had given it to him with a wink and a smirk, and trying to decide what exactly was on the tray that they were trying to pass off as “food”. 

Standing up after the nurse left, he walked his tray over to the nearby counter, turning to see Katniss glaring at him. 

“If I have to eat this, you have to eat this,” she hissed, gesturing to the food then him with her fork. 

Peeta gulped. “How about we share?”

Katniss narrowed her eyes at him briefly, before mumbling a “fine”, looking back to the food and picking at the imposter waffles. 

The TV was playing softly in the background, the only other noise aside from Katniss’ incessant fidgeting. 

“Are you okay?” Peeta asked after what felt like the millionth time, and tried to swallow the “waffles” that didn’t seem to want to be eaten as much as he didn’t want to eat them.

Katniss grimaced. “Yeah, it’s just,” she fidgeted again. “This is the most uncomfortable bed, and I can’t find a way to help it anymore. They changed my medication to something a little less potent, so now I’m feeling all the aches and pains and itches and everything glorious.”

Peeta chuckled. “Well, how about we get up and walk around the hallways a little bit, and after that I can give you a little massage?” He had to bite his cheek to keep from smiling at her wide eyes. He didn’t need a machine to know her pulse was elevated, her cheeks gave that away as they tinged pink. Ever since Finnick had made his “observation” the day before, he’d found himself being much bolder than he had ever been before. “I mean, it can’t be too much different than kneading bread….”

Katniss simultaneously choked and chuckled at the same time. “The medicine I’m due for in a few minutes makes me really dizzy, and I’d have to use the walker, and-”

“And I’ll help you,” Peeta interrupted, earning him a scowl. “I’ll walk right beside you in case you need help, and catch you if you start to fall.”

“And if I can’t walk the whole time you’ll go find me a wheelchair at the nurses station, right?” Katniss rolled her eyes with a little scoff, but her cheeks still bloomed in a bright blush. 

“No, I’ll just carry you if it comes to that.”

“Oh.” Was all Katniss could muster, a short decisive nod in confirmation as she sat the bed up all the way, lowering her propped up feet and pushing away the tray of “food”. “Could I- I mean, Can you-” she stuttered out, timidly reaching her hand out in a request for help up.

Peeta scrambled to his feet, immediately offering his hand to help her sit totally upright, easing her legs over the side of the bed and lowered the rail on the side to help her even more. 

She turned toward the edge of the bed, her feet dangling off the edge in the yellow socks with grippy bottoms they kept replacing every day, and flitted her eyes over to the walker in the corner, Peeta following her gaze and immediately reaching over with his long reach to grab it, placing it in front of her. 

“Can I have my robe, please?” she asked in a small voice, pointing to where it hung on the bathroom door. “These hospital gowns are drafty in all the wrong places.” She pulled a hand down her face, sighing at the words that kept coming out of her mouth. “Sorry, too much information.”

Peeta smiled as he handed her the robe. “No, I get it. I’ve been in here once or twice, remember?”

She smiled sadly. “Yeah, I remember.”

As Peeta helped her into the robe, he also smiled sadly. Staring at the floor, memories he’d rather forget started flashing through his mind. He must have spaced out, or maybe he clutched her shoulders just a little too tightly, but the next thing he really registered was Katniss holding his face in her hands, searching his face frantically. 

“Stay with me,” she echoed her words from last night, once again not a question, but a matter of fact. 

Locking his eyes on hers, he found the fog clearing. Swallowing thickly, he nodded, letting his gaze dart around the room. “Thanks,” he finally muttered, smiling sadly one last time before he cleared his throat and smiled a bit more genuinely. “Now quit procrastinating.” 

Xxx

They made it a few laps around the floor before Katniss was too tired to make one more round. When they passed back by her room, they went in and saw that the food trays had been removed, thankfully, and the bed linens changed. At the foot of the bed sat a new hospital gown, bright yellow and folded neatly, on top of it a matching set of those same yellow socks. 

“Feel up to changing?” Peeta asked her as he helped slip off her robe, carrying it back to the hook on the bathroom door. 

“I guess,” Katniss sighed, her breathing labored. “Makes the most sense to do it before getting back in bed.” 

“Let me know if you need any help,” he said, holding the bathroom door open as she shuffled by, the gown and socks clutched tightly to her chest with one hand, the other holding the back of the hospital gown together as best she could. 

Closing the door all but a sliver, Peeta stood right outside in case she needed help, absently staring at the TV. His mind was far away, though, thinking about all the times he had been the one in here, and she had visited and helped him. He didn’t dwell on the reason he was there, but the fact she had come to help. 

“Peeta?” Her small voice echoing around the small bathroom caught his attention. 

“Yeah?” He cleared his throat.

“I need some help tying this gown.”

Now it was his turn to have his cheeks go pink. Nothing is more awkward than a hospital gown. The door slowly swung open, and her back was revealed to him, her hands clutching the back tightly around her hips, but her back was on full display, making him swallow thickly. 

It was moments like these that he found himself getting lost in an emotion he only ever felt around her, but he never fully understood. If he had to describe it, it was how he pictured love feeling.

Slowly walking into the little room, he stepped up behind her, closer than needed, and noticed she was shaking as he reached for the little ties. 

“Are you cold?”

“Y-yeah,” she stuttered out, looking at the floor. 

Slowly tying a double knotted bow so it wouldn’t slip open on accident, Peeta accidentally brushed his fingertips on the soft exposed skin of her back, and she instantly stilled. “Is that too tight?” he asked softly. 

“N-no. But can you tie the top one a little looser? I think when I sit down it might be just a little too tight.”

He nodded, reaching up to tie the top strings in just one bow in case she wanted to adjust it, and his skin brushed her clavicle, making her shiver once again. 

Leaning in toward her ear, he spoke in a low voice, “Can you please hold your hair up? I don’t want to get it caught in the strings.” 

The shivering turned into a violent shudder before she nodded, lifting her hair up with her free hand not clutching the lower part of the gown closed, and took deep, steadying breaths.

“Thank you,” she breathed, letting go of her hair as he set his hands on her shoulders, pulling her back flush with his front gently, and placing his chin gently on one shoulder, his cheek right by her ear.

“Don’t mention it,” he said in a quiet tone much like her own. With their bodies so close, he could feel her rapid heartbeat against his own, and they both were above average.

“I’ll let you take care of the lower ties.” He took a few steps back before turning to go back to the room. Her voice so close behind him startled him. 

“I think I will leave those open. I’ll be under the covers anyway, and it makes it a little easier to move and sit in that bed. But I could use your help switching out these socks…. If you don’t mind.” She smiled timidly. “Bending over is still really hard.”

Nodding, he gestured her to the bed and helped her sit on the edge. Pulling off the old pair and putting on the new, he heard her hooking the various little monitors back up as she settled back in. Looking up he saw her plug the pulse monitor back in and immediately the machine started blaring like it had before. Looking up at her with wide eyes, they both glanced at the monitor as the nurse came in and turned it off. 

“Why does that keep happening?” Peeta questioned her. “Isn’t that something bad?”

The nurse smiled kindly at him. “That? Oh, that’s just tachycardia. Elevated heart rate. The machine has certain parameters set for ‘normal’ and sometimes exertion or excitement can make your pulse shoot up to what the parameters deem ‘too high’. It’s completely safe.” 

She leaned into Peeta. “But between you and me, I think it’s just you in general that keeps making hers go off. You have some effect on her, no one else who visits has it going off this much. Someone named Finnick had it going, but she was laughing really hard. Haymitch seems to put her in a bad mood - or annoyed - and that sets it off sometimes. But you, you make it go off the most. I’d be very unhappy about that if she wasn’t looking so much better having you here.” The machine went off again, and the nurse glanced at a mortified looking Katniss before smiling knowingly at Peeta. “Just push this button if it happens again.” Reaching out she silenced the machine once again, winking at Katniss, before promptly leaving the room. 

Katniss and Peeta just stared at one another for a long moment before he clapped his hands together and said, “Now how about that massage?”

He reached out and shut off the machine before it let out too many alerts.

Xxx

If he had thought it through, tying the gown before the massage wasn’t the brightest idea, but he was so glad he had because it was one more excuse to be so close to her. He was surprised she wasn’t swatting him away with how ticklish she tended to be. 

The head of the bed was lowered enough for him to squeeze in behind her, and they finally settled on her sitting between his legs as she hugged a pillow to her front as she slightly bent forward, and laid her head on a pillow on the little rolling table they had locked to sit in front of her. Her head was turned to her right so he could see her profile, and her typical braid going over her shoulder had been done so he could have easier access to her shoulders and neck. 

He wanted to take a moment to just admire her, but he understood the horribleness of a hospital bed, and went to working on her shoulders immediately. Working from the bottom of her shoulder blades up to the top of her neck, he tried to be gentle not entirely sure what might still hurt from the accident, but dug in to the knots he found, earning appreciative groans from her. 

He worked down to her lower back, right above her hips was as much as he could get to, and he made a mental note to ask the nurse for a heating pad next time she came in. Even his baker trained hands couldn’t work that tension out without some help.

“Is the pressure okay?” He kept asking, to which she answered a groggy sounding yes every time. Finally instead of an answer he got a snore in response. Glancing to her face he saw her peacefully asleep, not even a flinch as he found yet another knot near her shoulder blade. He worked on it gently for a few minutes, not seeing her flinch once, but finally decided that was enough for now. 

Someone cleared their throat to his left, and he snapped his head to see Finnick leaning in the doorway, ankles crossed, arms crossed over his chest, and a smirk across his face that was absolutely beaming. 

“Friends,” he said quietly, but with emphasis, snickering, before hanging his head and gently shaking it.

Double knotting the one tie and loosely tying the top one again, Peeta slowly eased out of the bed, taking the pillow Katniss was hugging and adding it to the one that had been behind his back, slowly lowering her back until she was laying on the slight incline of the bed, her snoring not wavering once. He took the pillow her head had been on on the tray and gave it to her to hug like the other one, and she clutched it tight, snuggling into the blankets he pulled back up over her.

Walking past Finnick, Peeta gave him a dirty look before continuing out into the hall, pulling him along by the elbow when Finnick didn’t follow, closing the door all but a crack so he would hear if she woke up or the machines went off. 

Finnick was just smirking.

“Why did you have to say anything the other day?” Peeta hissed. “Everything was fine until then, and now I can’t think about anything else.”

“Could you before? Really?” Finnick prodded. “I mean, sure, you didn’t sit an analyze her heart rate, but can you honestly tell me you didn’t think about her, look at her and get that feeling you can’t really describe but understand, and just know this person is supposed to be in your life?” It was quiet for a minute before Finnick spoke in a softer voice. “I get it, man.” He put a hand on Peeta’s shoulder, despite Peeta’s arms still being firmly crossed. “It’s the same feeling I get-”

“Let me guess, it’s the same feeling you get when you see me?” Peeta’s sarcasm was off the charts. 

Finnick threw his head back and laughed. “Well, yeah, but in a different way. No, man, it’s how I feel when I see Annie.” Peeta’s face softened at the mention of Finnick’s fiancé. “And no matter how long we have been together, that feeling doesn’t change. It gets more comfortable, yeah, but it’s the same feeling, same emotion.” He smiled a goofy smile and looked off in the distance over Peeta’s shoulder. “It’s like…. You look at them and….” He met Peeta’s gaze again, “you know you’re home.”

Peeta had to glance over his shoulder to see if Annie was actually there, because the way Finnick had stared down that hallway, Peeta was almost certain she had to be there. 

Letting his arms drop as he sighed, his shoulders hunching, Peeta rested his forehead on Finnick’s chest and groaned softly. 

Snickering, Finnick pushed him to arms length, hands on his shoulders, and gently shook him until he met his eyes again. “You’re here. You’re safe. This is real.” He sighed. “It’s a really messed up situation, but it’s where you are.” He grinned impishly. “Now go get her and tell her you love her, you idiot, before I do.”

Gently shoving Peeta back toward the room, all thought of flipping Finnick the bird faded from his mind when he heard Katniss sleeping fitfully, moaning softly in what sounded like pain or distress, and her monitor registering a higher and higher pulse rate. 

The nurses words about what causes the elevation came back to him, and Peeta was in the room and beside her faster than Finnick could say “go”. 

The door shut softly behind him, but it was enough to make Katniss sit upright in bed, wide eyed, immediately grimacing and groaning as she grabbed her midsection.

Peeta put a hand on her shoulder, and she immediately flinched, but looking up and seeing his face, relief washed over her features, and her pulse began to calm down. “You’re okay,” he reassured softly. 

“Thank you,” she all but whispered. “I am now that you’re here.”

They looked at one another and shared a soft smile, their eye contact never wavering. 

“Scoot over,” Peeta said simply, jutting his chin forward as if to motion to her which way to go.

“What? Why?” Katniss asked, but did as he asked. 

Slipping his shoes off, Peeta took the pillow she had been hugging away form her, ignoring her lighthearted protests, and stuck it a bit further up than her pillows, and climbed in the bed in the spot she had made for him. Pulling the sheets up over them, he laid his head on the pillow slightly further up, and gently pulled her so that she was resting on his chest, hugging him like she had clutched the pillow. 

“You slept better leaning forward when I was giving you the massage, I figured this might help-”

They heard a snort from the doorway and both looked to see Finnick in the exact position he had been in only minutes earlier. “You two idiots are going to be the death of me,” he muttered softly with a smirk, hanging his head once again with a gentle shake.

Looking back to one another, Peeta began again after a moment of silence, “Really, it was just an instinct, I’m sorry if I- I can get out of you want-”

He was cut off by Katniss firmly planting a kiss on his lips. Pulling away just enough to speak, she whispered, “Thank you.”

“Always,” Peeta responded without even thinking.

They both smiled when they heard Finnick whoop and say something about “finally” from down the hall before the door clicked shut.

Searching each other’s face, eyes flitting this way and that, from lips to eyes to nose to lashes, the space between them slowly began to close again, until it finally disappeared and was lost in a kiss, then another, and some more. 

In longing touches, laughter, and whispered discussions. 

Stolen glances and hidden smiles. 

The distance between them stayed small, much like the distance between each heart beat, until finally the nurses cleared her to no longer need the monitor. Probably more for their own sanity than anything else. 

When she finally got dressed in normal clothes and was discharged, she came out of the bathroom after braiding her hair, and smiled as Peeta waited for her by the door, his own broad smile across his face, one hand outstretched for her. When they were within touching distance, he firmly gripped her hand with his, reaching out to touch the tip of her braid with the other, fiddling with it absentmindedly, a goofy grin on his face.

Walking the few feet to the waiting wheelchair the hospital insisted she leave in, Peeta let go of her hand, but stayed as close as he could. After she finally was in the passenger seat of his car, he once again took her hand across the console, threaded their fingers together, and they both smiled. 

“Are you ready?” he asked.

Looking at him now, she understood her feelings of only a few days ago, walking through the quad with stolen glances. 

“Ready,” she said. 

Shifting the car into gear, Peeta gave her one more dazzling grin, and one last squeeze of her hand, before he turned to look at the road, and they rode in comfortable silence, and that wonderful feeling, of knowing that that special someone loves you back. 

After a few minutes, Peeta finally piped up, “Just so you know, that truce I called in the quad the other day? That only extends a few more days.”

Katniss turned a glare on him and he snickered.

[sugako]

c+k bokuto

bokuto x f!reader

sum: bokuto is away for the holiday so you meet up online for “dinner”

cw: 18+ only minors dni, nsfw, masturbation/mutual masturbation, video call sex, eating/food mentions (not in a sexual way), kinda praise, teasing, mentions of sex, teeny bit of angst/loneliness at the beginning, baby & babydoll used as a nickname

wc: 1k

a/n: part of confessions and kisses mini series,, whew uhh this one a tiny bit longer and spicier than the others so far

It got lonely sometimes, being in a relationship with a professional athlete. Bokuto was either playing, training, or traveling. You had your own life, but in times like these, when he was gone for the 'Love Holiday' of all days, it felt a little rough. 

He had spent the day pining over you, as well. Every minute that passed was a minute closer to him being able to see your pretty face. Even if it was just through a screen. 

A day before he left, when he got his clingiest, you made a plan to calm his nerves. He had happily agreed to a dinner date online. Not to mention, he had very inconspicuously gifted you a special present ahead of the day. 

The cute, pale, lacey set stared back at you across the room as you got ready. To get ready, you were slipping into clothes you felt most comfortable in over the top of the set. 

Although you had no reason to be nervous, when you logged on, your breath getting a little shaky. With your dinner in your lap, you shifted as his little icon connected. 

"Hey, hey, hey!!! How are you, babydoll? I thought about you all day. The weather looked kinda bad at home tonight, is it cold?" 

You beamed at his short rambling, feeling your heart warm just from hearing his voice. “I’m fine, just happy I can see you. And it isn’t bad, just a little windy. It’s warm in the house anyway.” 

“That’s great,” his tone softened a bit, “I’m really so-”

“Kōtarō, stop.” His sad, blurry expression made your heart hurt. “It’s your job, besides we can see each other like this.” 

His quiet mutter barely crackled through your speakers as he took a bite of his own dinner. 

“Huh?” You turned the volume up a couple of notches. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you. The connection might be kind of weird.” 

Bokuto sheepishly swallowed his too big bite and tilted his head. “I just wish I could touch you or see you in that one present…” 

Heat shot into your cheeks and you pursed your lips while setting your plate down on the bedside table. “Well, you can still see the present.” His eyes sparkled as they lit up. You chuckled as he hurriedly set his food somewhere offscreen and leaned back. “Do you wanna see?” You ask when it looks like he’s settled as much as he can. 

“Yes, please, baby.” His voice was already getting deeply breathy and you hadn’t even done anything. 

Carefully and slowly, you peeled your top over your head. His little whines echoed through your screen, upset that you could tease him so well like this. You knew if you were actually together with him, there wouldn’t be any fabric left on your body. 

With your eyes fixed on his golden ones, you leaned forward just enough to let him get a good view. 

“You’re so fucking pretty.” He moaned, palming over his hips with the hand that wasn’t propping him up. “C’mon baby, show me the rest.” 

Panting, you nodded and knelt up to shimmy your bottoms off. You sat back on your heels, making sure to keep your knees spread and in view. His deep groan was barely audible. 

“How does it look?” You asked in a syrupy tone, batting your eyes at him. With his head leaned back he ran a hand through his hair. 

“Look perfect, babydoll.” His head fell back so he could admire you. The hand he had on his hip was nearly gripping his hard cock through his shorts, desperate for feeling. Really, he was desperate for you, but that couldn’t happen for now. 

“Wanna show me how it makes you feel?” When the words came out of your mouth you watched how his expression hazed up in pure lust. Wordlessly, he slipped his shorts down to reveal his pretty cock. The thick head was glistening in precum and he was practically twitching as he watched you trail your hands down your body. 

One of his hands wrapped around his length and began slowly pumping. You stopped your fingertips just between your thighs, shivering at the feeling. Watching him like this, you were practically drooling over his godly physique. 

“T-touch yourself,” he strained out, “think about my cock, pretty girl.”

You already were. Before you even slipped a finger between the opening in the panties, you could feel wetness seeping between your legs. The pace of his hand increased when your face filled with pleasure. Your fingers easily slipped into your entrance that was hungry for more with your palm pressing into your clit. It wasn’t the same, but it was something. 

Eyes half-lidded and mouth parted, you pulled your hand away to show him. “See, you made me all messy, Kōtarō.” You whined before sucking your fingers into your mouth and sucking away your own slick.

His eyes nearly rolled back into his head. “Such a tease.” He groaned, eyebrows knitted. “Make yourself cum, come one, know you want it.” 

Letting yourself fall on your back, you continued at a feverish pace, sinking the fingers of one hand into your hole while the other hand rubbed at your throbbing clit. A chorus of his sighs meshed with the lewd sounds coming between your legs. The knot in your stomach was tying tight and tighter as the seconds passed and his groans grew louder. 

It sounded like he was nearly at his own release, but you could barely bring yourself to look up before the knot snapped and you came around your fingers. The rush of blood to your ears almost blocked out his little whimpers and praises as he watched your hole clench around your fingers. 

Slowly, you pulled your hands away from yourself and relaxed for a moment. 

“So cute when you’re clenching around nothing.” His steadied voice dragged you from your haze and you sat up. Collapsing back on your stomach you lazily grinned at his own fucked out appearance. He had pulled his shorts back up, a crumpled tissue tossed beside him on the bed, but his chest was still heaving. 

“Can’t wait for you to get home,” you sighed. “It’s better with you.”  

“Soon, baby. In a couple days I’ll be back and you can cum on my cock as many times as you can.” 

[lovesquare-enthusiast]

SOLO 6 [bonus chapter]

Previously on Miraculous: Solo!: He caught her hand before she could put it down and held it between the two of them for a moment, squeezing it lightly in his own palm and feeling its smallness. Adrien imagined just how much weight the world has given for such small hands. His fingers laced with hers just for a moment. “Then I am in your debt, your highness.” The superhero said.

Wordcount: 906 [masterpost]

Adrien laid in bed with two scarves in hand.

One blue, one green.

His eyes focused on nothing but the two knitted items. One was gifted to him by his father for his last birthday, the other he had received just yesterday from his friend. He knew from the moment Marinette put the scarf on him, the material, the smell, all felt familiar. They were the exact size, the exact thickness of yarn, the exa–

“K i d, if this another one of your conspiracy theories, just go to bed already will ya? You can literally see her tomorrow.” Plagg’s complaints did not fully register as proven by Adrien's late and halfhearted “uhuh.” and the kwami was t h i s close to just turning off the lights.

“Something is up Plagg, the only difference is the color!”

“And the only difference between you and a rock is that one is alive and the other one ISN’T. Go to sleep you dense knucklehead!! AAAAUUUUGH.”

Listening to the kwami’s pleas, Adrien flicked off the light switch and buried himself under his covers. He wanted answers too, you know? If what he's seeing is real, then... Marinette was the one who made him the blue scarf. But then how would have his father gotten his hands on it? Did he commission her? But his father didn't know about Marinette until the hat contest! Where was the missing connection? Scientists are still struggling to find the answer.

And they smelled the same too, who was he kidding, of course it was Marinette’s work, it was similar to what her balcony blanket smelled like. Not that he uh– knew it first-hand– Adrien sighed, exhausted from thinking in circles round and round, breathing in the soft yarn of the scarves as he held them close to him, against his chest right under his chin. They were comforting, two of the few handmade items in this big mansion. He had been promised a hat as well and the thought made the teen model giddy, slightly kicking his feet underneath the blanket.

There was just– so much about her he didn't know yet. Marinette was endlessly interesting and the more he got to know her and see her, the more he found reasons to continue being Chat Noir, to not give up even when he felt unwanted, unneeded, or when he slipped up or felt like giving up. Because she

she, Marinette Dupain-Cheng,

cared about him, all the different parts of him. Someone believed in him like he believed in her.

Adrien Agreste, he thought. How did you get so darn lucky?

___________________________________

Her face was still burning after splashing cold water on herself for the umpteenth time.

Marinette had long given up on her heated face by the time she crawled into bed, the memories replaying in her mind without her meaning to. The girl still had not said anything even as Tikki came to nuzzle up against her.

“Mm,” the kwami' yawned, “Marinette? What's wrong?”

“Where the HECK do I put all my posters of Adrien when Chat comes over????” Marinette whisper-shouted, using her arms that shot up into the air to emphasize her question, then letting them flop back down.

Tikki only giggled back, knowing a little more than Marinette did. “I'm sure he wouldn't mind it much, you did say it was for your passion for fashion anyway.”

“Ughh–” A pillow was taken from beside her to muffle the girl's agitated groans. “N o o n e believes that!”

“Well then, I fully believe in you to work your way around things! You two don't have to work in your room.”

“So you mean... for us to go outside?”

“Mhmm.”

“Like a d-date?”

“Not what I said but don't let me deter you from your dreams.”

“I don't dream about– about dating Chat Noir!” Marinette sputtered, though it was already too late as her mind flooded her imagination with thoughts of her and Chat in disguise, studying at the library and getting ice cream afterwards, not that it would be Andre’s! It could be any ice cream place like the grocery store! Super unromantic! Oh wait no–

Marinette looked deeply troubled as she realized being in a grocery store with Chat would still be very romantic,,, “Look, getting over Luka was hard enough and I'm doing my best to be there for Adrien's as a friend because he really, really needs one who will listen to him.... And I'm Ladybug! And the guardian!!”

“Sleep, Marinette. No need to... overthink it...... now........”

Sleep came to the kwami but Marinette was still restless. She didn't want to use Chat Noir as some sort of rebound or someone to distract her, he deserved so much better, the best of the best.

“Only the best...” Muttered Marinette as she tiredly turned to lie on her side.

Darnit, she wanted to be that best.

She was going to show him so much care that he wouldn't even know what to do with it all. Gonna suffocate all her loved ones with her affection, yeah, that’s the plan. Chat Noir is just a loved one haha.

Simply just someone special to her and nothing else.

With that conclusion, Marinette could feel her brain begin to slow down to let her rest, her eyes closing as she drifted off to dream land where she can chase down Hawkmoth with her knitting needles to stab him with.

masterpost

[asstronauts]

Alphabet Soup

rating: t word count: 1.7k pairing: jemily summary: perhaps love is in the little moments more than the grand gestures. 26 times (among many) that JJ and Emily fall a little bit more in love with each other in the everyday, smaller moments.

read on ao3, if you’d prefer

---

A - alphabet soup

JJ bought cans of alphabet soup for the boys when Michael first began to read, but Emily quickly found it much more entertaining to spell out words like "boob" or "ass" or "sex?" punctuated with a poorly modified capital P in place of a question mark. JJ had to shut it down when Michael asked what a "tit" was, and Emily panicked and mumbled something about birds.

B - bedtime

They would often unwind by reading before bedtime, and JJ found that Emily read through many foreign literature books. The nights she would fall asleep to Emily stroking her hair and reading aloud in words she didn't understand were the nights she felt most rested.

C - constellations

It was clear that Emily didn't actually know any constellations besides the Big Dipper and Orion. But when she laid on the grass with Henry and Michael, she made up stories in the stars about great heroes and the adventures they went on, and the boys fell in love with the night sky.

D - driving

JJ insisted on driving everywhere without the help of smartphone maps, which had gotten them lost on several occasions. Somehow it felt alright, when she had one hand on the wheel and one hand on Emily's leg, the windows were down, and her hair was streaming in the wind and reflecting the setting sun. Somehow it felt alright to be lost with her.

E - errands

For whatever reason, JJ made running any errand seem like immense fun. Buying groceries, getting gas, even sending a letter felt like an adventure when she was there. They'd only gotten kicked out of one grocery store — when JJ had knocked over an entire display stand of candy bars after running and jumping onto a shopping cart. They didn't regret anything.

F - forehead kiss

JJ wasn't that much shorter than Emily, but when the brunette pressed her lips to her girlfriend's forehead, JJ would feel the need to bury her face in Emily's neck to hide her blushing cheeks.

G - graveyard

On that day, JJ just needed space. So Emily took her to the flower shop the day before and drove her to the cemetery that morning and left her alone until she was ready. In the evening, they didn't speak, just laid with one another on the couch until JJ fell asleep in her arms.

H - horror movie

It was a cheap jump scare, but it made JJ scream out and grab Emily's arm, prompting the older woman to laugh at her. JJ responded with a playful slap, and Emily had to kiss her to reaffirm her love. They didn't finish the movie.

I - ice cream

On a day off, Emily took the boys to get ice cream, and when they came home raving about how Emily had managed to stack five ice cream scoops on top of a single cone, JJ knew she was with the right woman.

J - jaw

Emily's knees grew weak whenever JJ kissed up her jaw and whispered in her ear. Her girlfriend caught on and loved messing with her, working her up into a complete frenzy, then saying the most unsexy thing she could think of. Emily hated it, but she also couldn’t help but to collapse into a fit of giggles when JJ planted kisses all up the side of her face and whispered something like "corned beef" in a seductive voice.

K - kitchen

JJ would use every kitchen utensil as a musical instrument during any spare moment in cooking — while the food was cooking, while the water boiled, while the oven was preheating. She would sing into a wooden spoon and shove it into Emily's face to finish the lyric, and the two would dance in each others' arms all throughout the kitchen.

L - letters

When Emily spent her time in Paris and London, she and JJ wrote each other scores of letters the times they weren't together. They'd both filled up an entire box of papers and knickknacks until they were reunited. Even after, JJ would sometimes write a letter addressed to Emily, drop it into the mailbox and tell Emily to check the mail, for no reason except to make her smile.

M - mugs

JJ had an entire cupboard dedicated to mugs for her tea, which Emily could never understand because she only seemed to ever use two of them: one being a lumpy mug Henry had made in a pottery store and the other being a Valentine’s Day gift from Emily with lovely ceramic boobs protruding from the mug’s body.

N - notes

Emily bought a massive pack of post-its and began leaving notes for JJ around work, bringing a smile to her face every time she found a little colorful message. Some were encouraging — you can do it, you light up my world, you're amazing. Some were cheesy — i love you, je t’aime, when you see this blow me a kiss. And some were...questionable — JJ had to hide the extremely accurate (and well-annotated!) drawing of her naked body before Hotch saw.

O - omelette

Most of the time, Emily couldn't cook without the risk of burning the house down, but for some reason, she made the most scrumptious omelette. Despite not knowing how to cook scrambled or fried or boiled eggs, Emily's omelettes were always perfectly cooked, with an impeccable ratio of egg to filling. JJ tried everything she could to make them the same way, but the boys always preferred Emily's omelettes on Sunday mornings. JJ wondered if it was something she learned during her time in Paris.

P - plants

Before JJ, Emily had never been very good at taking care of plants. They seemed to die with little to no warning. But JJ had taught her well, making little plant calendars and teaching her signs to watch out for, and one morning, JJ caught her talking to one of the plants. As she listened more carefully, she heard that Emily was talking to each plant in a different language — according to the plant’s country of origin.

Q - quiet

The moments after the boys were put to bed were some of the only moments of quiet JJ and Emily got alone during the day. No matter how busy or tired they were, they always intentionally took a few moments to just quietly be with one another, curled up in the other's arms, lying in the other's lap, or simply sitting side by side.

R - rain

They'd gotten caught in the storm on the way back to the office from lunch. Despite JJ’s coat held up above them, the pair was getting drenched anyway, and they gave up and decided to make out in the rain instead. They swung their hands back and forth as they splashed over to the BAU, arriving soaked to the bone but elated, as Hotch shook his head at their sodden clothing and dopey grins.

S - Sergio

Emily had arrived home early and found JJ dancing in the hallway with Sergio to "Can't Stop the Feeling" blasting on the bluetooth speaker. She lifted her ban on Justin Timberlake that day, which had previously been in place when in a moment of weakness, JJ had declared she would choose him over Emily if given the chance. (She’d taken it back for Emily's sake, but deep down she couldn't really decide.)

T - thermostat

JJ liked the thermostat to be set at no lower than 77 degrees, while Emily loved the room as cold as possible. The first few months that they lived together was a horrible battle of constantly changing from one drastic temperature to the next, before JJ finally agreed to keeping the temperature low as long as Emily agreed to cuddle with her any time she got cold. Emily did not, however, realize that this compromise extended to the workplace, where JJ would sporadically ask for cuddles throughout the day, and Emily would have to comply.

U - ugly pajamas

Emily loved her ugly pajama sets. One of her favorites was a bright green Grinch onesie in a ridiculous Christmas sweater. JJ hated it until Emily showed it to the boys, and Michael howled with laughter and asked for one for himself. From that day forward, Emily bought her ugly pajamas in full family sets, including accompanying costumes for Sergio.

V - vanilla

Emily didn’t quite mind JJ’s early morning jogs because her favorite moments were when JJ came home after, took a shower, and climbed back into bed to give Emily a warm embrace, flooding her senses with the smell of vanilla shampoo. Emily would roll over to nuzzle her head in the crook of JJ’s neck and plant soft kisses there, breathing in her favorite scent.

W - wine

Emily drank red, JJ drank white. And Henry and Michael loved to join in, pretending to be adults by sipping grape juice from their colorful cups. Perhaps their family had unconventional tea parties, but at least they always had massive amounts of fun doing family activities tipsy. These were the nights when it was almost difficult to tell the difference between Michael and Emily’s coloring pages.

X - X-Files

JJ didn’t fully understand Emily’s deep obsession with The X-Files, but after Emily convinced her that she wasn’t only watching for Gillian Anderson, the younger woman began finding the long rambles and discussions of extraterrestrial life more endearing and interesting.

Y - yarn

JJ really wanted to get the hang of knitting and give something special to the boys, but Emily kept distracting her. Any chance she got, Emily would hold the yarn balls to her chest as fake boobs, use threads of yarn as mustaches, and drum the knitting needles against any surface. It wasn’t that JJ couldn't finish her projects out of annoyance — it was that JJ couldn’t help but laugh and find her girlfriend irresistible, forcing her to set aside her work and wrap herself up instead in the brunette’s embrace.

Z - zoo

It was Emily's explosive childlike joy when she had seen the dolphins. She claimed it was for the boys’ sakes, but JJ had noticed the pure excitement in her eyes when they saw the sign and felt the way Emily had tugged on her wrist to rush to the stadium and grab seats right in the splash zone. And in the screams of laughter and the moment when both Henry and Michael clutched at Emily when the water washed over them, JJ knew she wanted to spend the rest of her life with this woman.

[hellothere-generalangsty]

It's OCs' time!!

Have the boys (again) but this time I did their armour and also I give you a few facts about them because I can.

Picrew is from briikase

Cw/tw: mention of broken bones, nightmares, anxiety, fear of drowning; but also some fluffy funny stuff because yes

KEED

Arc Trooper, serves under the orders of General Tash'ni

Has a huge crush on his General

Like. Huge.

He saved his life during a very hard mission, which is also the reason he got promoted as an ARC

Quite introverted and shy at first, but it's easy to make him relax

Very humble, sometimes struggles with all the responsibilities he has to deal with as an ARC

Lost count of all the moments he had to go to Gift or Bones to ask for advices and/or support

He's the youngest of the three; technically speaking it's a matter of hours or days at best, but Bones and Gift always insist on this (in a playful way ofc)

He's a good sniper

Again, he has a face tattoo that I have yet to design it should take up at least 1/3 of his face (think of Dogma's or Jesse's tattoos)

Looks like a cinnamon roll, could kill you

No really, he's a sweetheart, but you don't want him as an enemy in the heat of a battle

He's scared of drowning, and always feels a bit sick when he looks outside on Kamino or flies above watery areas

He likes flowers and thinks that if he hadn't been a soldier, he would have been a gardener or anything where he can work outside

BONES

Aims to be Captain of his own squad

Was the leader of his squad on Kamini when they were still cadets

Kaf. Adrenaline. And no f**ks to give.

He thinks kaf is disgusting, but drinks it anyway because it keeps him going

Really doesn't like sleeping, most of the time he wakes up sweating, breath shallow and heart beating too hard

He always thinks he doesn't do enough, that he can and should do more, better.

He's hard on himself

Sometimes it affects Keed and Gift, but he's quick to correct his attitude with them

Very protective of his brothers but struggles to express it; he's more actions than words

Really close to Gift, though he has no preferences between him and Keed, their relationships are just different

Loves getting tattooed, as each tattoo represent a victory, something meaningful to him

His very first tattoo he tells everyone is the one on his spine, because that's the first campaign tattoo he got

But his very real first tattoo (much more personal) is the one right next to his sternum, a bit on the left

The letters K, in blue; the letter B, in purple; the letter G, in pink. All in aurebesh.

He would absolutely commit treason and run into hiding on a deserted planet at the galaxy's border for his brothers.

He knows how to knit and uses it as a way to calm down when he wakes up in the middle of the night

He knitted gloves and scarfs for a good chunk of the 501St and is delighted to know it keeps them warm and comfy when the nights get cold

GIFT

C h a o s

He's the oldest and the one who gives the more importance to their age gap (obv he's joking.... Unless... 👀)

Very fun, loves to tell jokes and be light-hearted

He's very smart and tactical, but can be clumsy when it comes to expressing his ideas (think Sokka from ATLA)

Doesn't really tell his brothers about it, but sometimes he wish they would be less... Important? And he can't tell if it'd because he is terrified of losing them or if it's because he feels useless next to them

Will always bottle everything up until it's too much to deal with

Absolutely extroverted and very willing to listen to people, but also very prudish when it comes to his own struggles

Absolutely NOT prudish when it comes to loving his brothers and letting them know

He will literally hug them and squeeze their cheeks until they push him away

At least it always makes them smile and they feel a bit less lonely when he does that

Talks louder since he became hard of hearing after the bomb incident; tries to learn BaSL whenever he has some free time

He can spell his name, say "I have two brothers" and for now, one of his favorite sign is "laughing"

He breaks. So many bones. I promise you it's ridiculous.

And you'd think he breaks them because of a terrible fight or something bUT NO! One time he broke his hand because he let himself fall on his bed and miscalculated where his hand would end up.

He IS a gift to this galaxy and deserves all the love and appreciation

So yeah, here are they! I really love their trio, and I can't wait to dig into their relationship, and how they find ways to deal with the war and everything that comes with it.

Clones shippers DNI/ don't tag as ship or I will block you

_____

Tags: @m-o-o-n-s-g-o-o-n-s @chaoticvampirejedi @twinkofthedink

[pvffinsdaisies]

NORDIC SLEEP HEADCANONS

Norway:

morning person (though he might try and deny this and say he’s a night person to seem cooler). goes to bed around 22:00, early riser.

fairly heavy sleeper (due to all the coffee he drinks), but despite this he usually wakes up before he should and is too tired.

after waking up, he’s definitely not the type to lay in. up on his feet, throws on a robe or dressing gown and in for some light reading and coffee before the day begins.

window open, doesn’t care too much abt the curtain being open or closed- the light’s not an issue, nor is the dark.

sleeps nude, no reason for this, it’s just more comfortable to him.

a stuffed teddy is an absolute necessity, perhaps the one thing he cannot sleep without. he will stay up all night pouting if he doesn’t have one.

doesn’t snore, nor does he sleep walk or sleep talk. but if you watch, he does slightly smile in his sleep (only a small smile)

blanket hogger. but that’s only if he’s sleeping alone, if his partner’s there he doesn’t care so much and will cling onto them.

will deny both of the previous points.

Iceland:

night person (though he will claim to be a morning person). goes to bed late, wakes up late. probably because he’s lost track of time reading or knitting.

like norway, he’s a pretty heavy sleeper. he’s also pretty reliant on alarms to wake him up (unlike his brother), but he is actually pretty well rested (which may come as a shock to most)

will lay in (if he has the time (but even if he doesn’t þetta reddast, right?)), open a curtain and just look at the pretty scenery and view outside.

Ice can pretty much sleep with either the window open or closed, but he does need his curtains to be closed. he might be used to sleeping in the light, but he still doesn’t prefer it.

he sleeps in pyjamas, usually a long sleeved, plain top and bottoms.

he doesn’t need anything to hold onto or clutch onto- and if he is sleeping next to someone he prefers to be held than to do the holding. he loves being held (do not tell anyone that)

he doesn’t snore, but he does occasionally sleep talk! it’s rare, but it does happen. it’s usually stuff in old norse (or even modern norwegian).

need blanket. need something covering him. n e e d b l a n k e t.

curls up into the tiniest ball ever

Sweden:

somehow both a morning and a night person. (has anyone ever seen sweden tired??)

the heaviest sleeper out of all the nordics, it’s quite scary actually, n o t h i n g can wake sweden up. no alarm, no nothing. but he always wakes up early.

no time to lay in. he will start his day as soon as he’s up, and then he has the rest of it to rest and spend time with sealand and ladonia.

window open (but only on a latch!) and curtains closed.

pyjama bottoms, but shirtless. sometimes just his underwear.

cuddles are not necessary at all, though he’s more than happy to hold and pull his partner in as close as he can. let’s the kids sleep in his bed and holds them close if they have a nightmare (or just want a hug from their dad)

sweden snores, louder than you’ve ever heard snoring. it’s not a pleasant experience if you’re not used to it.

he likes having a blanket, but it’s not a necessity, and he will sometimes end up having to throw it onto the floor bc it feels too restrictive.

he sleeps on his back, with exactly one pillow.

Denmark:

he’s neither a morning person, nor a night person. no specific time when he is or isn’t tired.

he’s a very light sleeper. pretty easy to wake up. uses an alarm to wake up at a set time everyday (even if he has nothing going on on that day)

surprisingly, he’s not the type to lay in- even less so than norway and sweden- he likes up be up on his feet, already dressed, ready to hand all his fellow nordics a cup of coffee when they wake up (that is, of course, when theyre not all in their own countries).

window closed. curtain closed. no exceptions. ever. he needs it quiet, he needs it warm and he needs it dark.

den will pretty much throw anything on when he’s going to bed- but he prefers a simple t-shirt and boxer shorts.

he does not do cuddles, it’s practically impossible, he tosses and turns and rolls around too much in his sleep and probably has ended up accidentally slapping his partner before in his sleep.

he snores, loudly, and he wakes himself up sometimes from his snores.

god no, no blanket at all!! far too restrictive! he’d rather just turn the heating up to the highest temperature than use a blanket at this point.

like previously stated, he tosses and turns a hell of a lot in his sleep! but he usually winds up waking up on his back with his limbs sprawled out anywhere and everywhere.

if you do want to try to cuddle den, the best option is wait until he’s seemingly found that position and use his chest as a pillow- but good luck.

Finland:

the biggest night person you will ever meet. you will have to literally drag him to bed

he needs his alarm, because there’s literally no way he’s waking up without it.

he will lie in, the only thing getting him out of bed is literally needing to in order to have his morning coffees.

he literally could not care less whether the window or curtains are open and closed. but it’s easier when the window is open and curtains closed.

another naked sleeper, and he will not bother to cover himself up when going downstairs even if there’s someone else in the house. he’s too tired to care.

even if fin were to try and cuddle someone under a blanket- it would never work, hes a sleep walker. he has woken up by throwing a glass of water onto himself whilst stood by the kitchen sink before.

FAROE ISLANDS (oc):

incredibly light sleeper, and generally has issues sleeping.

window open- she needs sound!- and curtains open.

no point setting an alarm, she’ll probably be awake most of the night anyway.

again, also sleeps naked.

need cuddles!!! need cuddles!!! need cuddles!!!! either she HAS to be held by someone tightly, or she has to sleep with a mountain of whale teddies in her arms or on her. sometimes both.

depending on whether or not she is sleeping alone, she might just kinda give up and walk around the area and enjoy the beautiful scenery.

if she does get to sleep, she does snore. not heavily, only light small snores and it can sound like she’s giggling rather than snoring.

blankets are okay... but who needs them?? she’s got the whales, and shes got her beautiful partner to keep her warm.