#but honestly this is so cozy and homey and warm I could feel it even when I'm not able to see it

[buckingham-ashtray]

Oh the lovely Lovely feeling of when I look at my wallpaper and screensaver.

*a thousand thanks to groovy.smoothy for all the perfectperfectperfect ingenious edits!! You are the charging play for my phone as well :D

**btw who has a very homey cozy 221b photo WITH SUPERB QUALITY 😭

[0310s]

take a picture, it'll last longer! (leehan) ᯓ★ 

members: leehan x gender neutral reader

genre: fluff, established relationship

wc: 1.2k

summary: a photobooth, too many options to choose from, and a naughty lover (spoiler: it’s not you).

a/n: once again... thank you to @dollvrse for implanting this idea in my head... you literally have the best ideas. i went utterly insane imagining this scenario, so i had to churn out this fic for the sake of my mental health. enjoy!

 𓉞⋆｡˚☁︎｡⋆

“Leehan, Leehan, a photobooth!” you gasp and nudge your boyfriend of one month. The singular photobooth is tucked in a cozy corner of the street, right beside a homey cafe. A peek under the curtain shows it’s unoccupied—lucky! “Hurry up, let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!” You tug at Leehan with your intertwined hands without waiting for a response; your lovely partner seems happy to be dragged along, either way. 

Sliding the curtain open, you quickly usher Leehan into the photobooth. As expected, the interior is compact, just enough for a pair to squeeze in and take photos. It’s honestly been quite some time since you’ve entered a phootbooth; you’ve never had a particular interest in these sorts of gimmicks. But now, you have something to commemorate and you want to be reminded of through photographic means—so here you are. 

Still, this is no time to peruse the photobooth interior. The last time you visited one, all you needed to do was to take your pictures and the machine would churn out everything else for you. Now, there are a plethora of options to choose from—too many, in fact, that you end up feeling momentarily paralyzed. “Okay, what are we feeling today? Two poses? Four poses? Eight poses? And there are… uhh… ten layouts we can choose from? There are way too many options... I’m getting confused!”

“We can probably just go with the regular four-photo strip.” Leehan’s voice is low and melodious as he answers you. “And pick the ocean design. The fish look cute there.” You nod and go with it, not wanting to waste any more time on deciding. As you pull out your wallet to feed the machine a couple of bills, Leehan beats you to it and fishes the photobooth some of his own money. Before you can even protest, Leehan sends you a little smile. “My treat.” How could you ever be mad at him with that smile of his?

You’re cut off from your daydreaming about how wonderful everything about Leehan is when the screen sounds, indicating you should get into position. “Okay, first pose!” You come up with many poses, but none of them seem right. Leehan proves to be unhelpful because all he’s doing is gazing at you with a fond smile on his face. “Leehan, maybe stop looking at me and help me out?” 

“I can’t help it. You’re just too beautiful,” Leehan tells you, “my eyes go wherever you are.” At this, your face burns with embarrassment. You’re about to tell Leehan to stop joking around when the photobooth shutter goes off with a loud sound.

At this, both of you turn to the screen, watching as the timer ticks down for the second photo. “Leehan, you just ruined our first photo!” you complain, but your boyfriend remains smiling. “Listen, buddy, this is a collaborative effort. Let’s think of a pose for the second photo. Come on, please?”

Leehan laughs to himself at how cute you are for taking this so seriously. “Okay, fine, fine,” he finally gives in to your pleading. “Come here.” Bringing you closer, he wraps an arm around you. His hand on your waist is a warm brand against your skin, and you ignore the shiver that goes through you. But when he tightens his hold, you instinctively giggle. 

“Leehan, not this pose, I’m ticklish there.” You try to wriggle out of his grasp, but he just pulls you in closer until his body is pressed right against yours. He’s facing straight at the camera, but you can see the corner of his lips curling up. You suddenly have an foreboding feeling that he’s up to no good—then he gives your waist another squeeze, right where you’re most ticklish.

“Ahh!” You squeal, thrashing in his grip. Leehan, devil that he is, laughs at your plight and starts to purposely tickle your sides to get a reaction out of you. He’s too strong—you’re subjected to practically the worst (and most evil!!!) tickle attack you’ve ever experienced in your life. As you wriggle around in an attempt to escape, the shutter goes off once again: two shots gone down the drain, two more to go. “Kim Leehan, if you don’t stop teasing me-” you begin to warn him, but you lose all train of thought when you notice the position you’ve ended up in.

Leehan’s got both arms wrapped around your waist. You can literally count the number of lashes your boyfriend’s got—it’s unfair how he’s got these pretty, long doll lashes that ghost his cheekbones every time he has his eyes shut. You’re so close that you can feel his breath on your lips as he looks down at you with an unreadable expression on his face. Your eyes trail down his gorgeous doe eyes, to the slope of his straight nose, to his plush, kissable lips—wait, what?

Your thoughts are all but interrupted as Leehan leans in and steals your breath with a tender kiss. One hand shifts from your waist to your cheek, gently cradling your face in his palm. His other hand remains on your waist, drawing you nearer, and you practically melt into his strong arms. Trailing your hands over his back, you sigh into the kiss as your pliant lips move against his. You’re so absorbed in the kiss that you don’t hear the camera go off another time. You feel so safe in his arms, and kissing him makes you feel lightheaded with happiness—happiness that you’re this close to him, someone you care dearly for, and that you’re able to share this intimate moment with him.

When you finally pull apart, you’re panting for air. Leehan is staring at you with a similarly dazed expression, eyes glazed over. You’re looking into each other’s eyes for a quiet moment, sharing equally shy glances. Leehan’s got that expression where he’s suppressing a wide grin, his dimples peeking out. That’s when the final shutter goes off, and you’re snapped out of your stupor—then you suddenly realize what you actually came here for. “Leehan, the pictures!”

“Oh. Right.” Leehan looks positively unapologetic. “I forgot." You clearly both did. A whirring sound comes from the machine, and you both turn around to see the finished prints drop out. When you step over and hold up the photo strips, you gasp with shame. 

“Oh my god!” The first photo is you fuming at Leehan while he looks at you longingly. The second photo is a blur of arms, but you can distinguish both your bright smiles as you flail around—yours out of ticklishness, and Leehan’s out of pleasure at your misfortune. 

The third photo is one that makes your cheeks flush a fiery red. Leehan and you are wrapped up in a kiss—nothing R-Rated, but still utterly humiliating to have been captured in a phootbooth no less. You look down to the fourth and last one, and here, you’re both gazing at each other with bashful smiles on your faces. The most embarrassing thing about it all is how because of the design Leehan's chosen, it looks like you're making out in a sea of poor marine creatures who most likely did not consent to watching a private show.

As cute as this is, you probably can’t display this in your room. “Jesus, these are ruined. We should take them again,” you exhale, already regretting the amount of money you’re spending on some silly, unimportant photos. But Leehan stops you, taking the photo strips from you and surveying them carefully. 

“What do you mean? I think they came out great.” Leehan pauses, considering his next words, carefully monitoring your reaction. Then what he says next stuns you: “... We look like we’re in love.”

Your heart clenches at this. It’s true—you and Leehan look like you’re in your own little world. “We do,” you concede. “Okay. Let’s keep this.”

[newkatzkafe2023]

Hey have you ever heard of Courtnapping among demons? Basically when a demon really likes someone, they make their home as welcoming and comfortable as possible as well as have enough to provide their potential mate with anything and everything they need, so let's say the Monkeys are having a stroll one day when suddenly they're picked up by a female monkey who's larger than them and taken to a very large but very homey cave. This cave has food, drink, clothing, weapons anything they would want or need. While the monkeys were impressed, they decided to ask why they're here, she looked into their eyes and said, "I've kidnapped you, so you're my mate now."

I HEARD OF COURTNAPPING AND I LOVE IT SO MUCH🤩🤩🤩🤩🤩 and I think we can do something better the a cave😉😉😉😉

(Lmk Wukong) Honestly you're not the first demon to try and courtnap him, but you are the first to succeed though🤣. Wukong was always able to slip away from anyone trying to get him, ever since he became the great sage equal to heaven people and demons of all kinds wanted a piece of him. Now for the first to succeed part well he was taking a nice long he was then bought to a incredibly luxurious Mansion and saw food, drinks, weapons, cozy and warm blankets with a giant Flat screen TV. Wukong was shocked by how privileged he feels and finally saw you come in with hot chocolate, he asked you why did you kidnapped him you then told him that you took him to be your mate. Wukong was Blushing and totally caught off guard by your Purposal, well at least your adorable.

(MKR Wukong) Ok he is just trying to wrap his head around the situation he's in, one moment he was patrolling the camp protecting his master. The next moment he was thrown over the shoulder of a tall, large female monkey who was heading for this massive fancy Mansion. Wukong was bamboozled by your surprisenly fancy mountain home and had all the stuff he could ask for in it. The house food, drinks, weapons and other cool treasures and items and Wukong was admittedly impressed by the display. He had to snap out of it and he demanded to know why you had kidnapped him and why did you bring him to your house. After a while you finally answered stating your name and the reason why you kidnapped him is being you wanted him as a mate. With this info Wukong had put two and two together before his face became red with embarrassment, and he felt something else. He got courtnap..HIS ASS GOT COURTNAP, and for some god Forsaking reason, he is not angry at all as he was hugged and kissed by you.

(HIB Wukong) He definitely put up a good fight at first, so you had to use a slightly drastic measure, but nobody was hurt. Now he was bound and gagged as he was carried to your home in another mountain. It was filled with treasure, food, drinks, weapons, and Apparently baby clothes, toys and medical supplies, and more. Wukong was admittedly impressed, but he had to get back to Luier and Silly girl and with that Wukong had asked you what you wanted and why you kidnapped him for. You then said that you successfully got him so he's officially your mate now, ohhhhhhhhhh the look on his face was priceless as he sat there blushing and shocked at your words. You are admittedly attractive and clearly interested in him to the point you had went and courtnap him, Wukong could never recover from this.

(NR Wukong) Ok, you'll need patience, careful planning, and a lot of booze in order to catch this guy because catching a butterfly is way easier than catching him. What you did catch him with was deep fried fish you made, and he was busy eating that as you carry him back to your home. When Wukong was done eating, he looked around your surprisingly fancy house and found it impressive even with all the stuff he saw with the food, drinks, weapons, and more things he's never seen before. Wukong was impressed, and when you came along, he asked why you bought him here, and you told him that you courtnapped him, so he's your mate now. Wukong brain was buffering excessively, so he was kidnapped by a hot lady who was very interested in him. You know you could have just asked him right??

(Netflix Wukong) He's freaking out a like alot he has no idea how to handle this situation at all. Wukong was coming home to Lin's house after fighting a bunch of demons when suddenly he found himself, Tackled, Tied up and carried over the shoulder of a tall monkey woman AKA YOU!!!! He rightfully panic as he's never expected something like this to happen to him. Later on, he was put in a cozy house with food, drinks, weapons, cozy pillows and blankets, and a bunch of other awesome stuff. Wukong was soon given peach tea from you, and he took this time to Interrogate, you on, what's going on?Why did you kidnap him and what your intentions are??? You laughed as you told him your name and said that since you successfully courtnap him that he's your mate now🥰🥰🥰. Now Wukong heard of courtnapping but never thought it would ever happen to him and by a Gorgeous monkey woman at that. He's not sure if he should be fortunate or not, but at least he took this chance to brag about himself to you.

(BMW Wukong) How is this even happening right now like seriously, he's at a lost at this. Let me explain Wukong was just being himself looking for enemies and adventure or looking to cause trouble, when he spotted something in the distance a tall female monkey which was you. Wukong demanded that you state your business as he was cautious incase you want to try something, but the next thing he knew he was being bound and gagged by the same female monkey who was now carrying him away. Wukong was then bought to a Huge bur comfortable looking house, where it was full of treasures he had never seen before along with food, drinks and other cozy comfort items. Wukong was admittedly impressed by everything but still wanted an explanation on why he was kidnapped, and well you told him😏. After given the explanation of your introduction and intentions He found himself in a state of shock at you calling him your mate, meaning he just got courtnap by this powerful Strategic Attractive devil monkey woman got him off guard. You sexy little Theif😍😲

(Destined One) He's confused at best because he appears to be being kidnapped by a taller than him female monkey. Now the shenanigans continue as you bought him back to your home that what a big cottage in a quiet and peaceful looking forest. The Destined one already like your house and it gets better on the inside it has everything he can ask for, their was his favorite food, drinks, awesome weapons and cool treasures that were never seen by him ever. Their was ever a cozy soft heavy slightly heated blanket just for him to snuggle and nap in. The Destined one was very impressed by the place he was bought too, and before he could almost fall asleep on your couch, you came in introducing yourself and openly called him your new mate. The Destined one instantly knew what happened, and considering you went on, you went out of your way to provide a good, safe, comfortable place for him. Also, you were adorable and attractive looking and clearly strong if you could haul him around with absolutely no trouble, and that's secretly sexy to him.

Feel Free to Reblog🔔💒💍👰‍♀🤵‍♂️

[simelune]

what are your favourite simblrs and what makes you love their blog? I'm trying to spread some love☺️🫶🏻

wahhh i always love showing appreciation to my fav blogs so this makes me happy to do!! this is definitely not all of them (bc honestly there's so incredible simblrs on this site) 😭😭 but here's some!!

@seokolat : i love love love seoko's nsb gameplay! i think shian's is so cute :') seoko is also just very delightful in general, so i always love seeing her posts on my dash!! 💗

@acuar-io : fae's sims are incredible, not even kidding. i think fae is just a great presence on my dash hehe 🧡

@cozyacres : 1. ella's so sweet!!!! 2. THE SOUR LEGACY IS AMAZING. that is all i have to say (well, there's more i could say, but i don't want to talk too much lmao) 💛

@peonypyxels : building goals... + all of ash's posts are just so beautiful and magical. i feel so warm and cozy when i get to see her posts !! i actually just recently went to read the beginning of her sparks legacy 💚

@nihilismtrcit : so so so kind <3 + i want to live in jas' builds omg. just so homey and wonderful. 💙

@windslar : the editing style is so amazing, i just love the aesthetic! also adore the flores legacy 💜

@estah : this list wouldn't be complete without esther! her random legacy challenge is just ugh.. perfection. i love it sm! getting to see esther's posts, for free???? incredible. 🤎

@kikitrait : again, someone who is just the sweetest! i also love her whimsy stories legacy! her posts are so pretty 🖤

@buttertrait : FIRST OF ALL?? beautiful sims, i love max's sim style sm !! second of all, super nice and the joy i feel when i see their posts on my dash? overwhelming. 🤍

[thegloweringcastle]

Home for the Cold Spell - Part One; December 21st

For our one and only @the-lonelybarricade​ as part of her gift for the @acotargiftexchange​! My dear, I owe you an apology - I really wanted to make it better but I eventually ran out of time and didn’t want to keep you waiting. Still, I hope you love it and can stand to read another few parts :)

Warnings: none (I think)

word count: ~3.9k

The first time Feyre left town for her birthday was not supposed to be a happy occasion. After months of working three jobs while continuing her studies at the community college, Feyre was looking forward to a cozy celebration with her sisters and friends. It didn’t matter to her that tensions were strained, it didn’t matter to her that they were all alone in the world. She was just happy to be making an effort, to belong somewhere in such an uncertain world.

Her sisters, apparently, did not feel the same.

Feyre’s knowledge of the English language was not advanced enough to know of any words that could adequately describe the city she had just arrived in.

Stunning could be one. Breathtaking could be another. But even those didn’t do it justice.

Old fashioned light posts lined the walkways, red metal benches could be found every dozen paces, and vast, snow capped mountains loomed over the bustling city. Like a cherry on top, holiday decor dripped from every surface; banners with the city emblem - three stars hovering above the Illyrian mountain range - hung beneath wreaths from each light post, silver and navy banners swept between awnings and windows, and bright, sparkling lights dripped from branches of every tree lining the main street. It was like she stepped out of the modern world and into a postcard.

And it was perfect.

Feyre felt as though she were walking through a dream, an entire world devised solely of what she had always wanted. A busy city that felt like a small town, towering mountains mingling with a winding river, and sparkling lights that put it all into a kaleidoscopic glow.

As if this wasn’t enough to hook her, the first thing Feyre stumbled upon was an entire section of the city dedicated to the arts. Immediately, she was drawn to a fabric shop on the corner with vast windows leaking a warm glow. She didn’t even like sewing as much as she liked painting, and yet her hands were itching to run along the shelves of material she spied from the outside.

The bell on the door made mention of her presence, but there was no one to be found behind the till or lurking between shelves. Tentatively, Feyre began exploring.

Bolts of fabric lined the floor to ceiling shelves; pine garlands were strung from the rafters and bordered the windows. Menorahs were placed in both front alcove windows, and a Christmas tree stood proud and shimmering at the front of the room. The shop smelled like cardamom and jasmine, and Feyre couldn’t get enough. Something about it felt so homey, so warm and calm and safe, that Feyre never wanted to leave.

What was most impressive about the interior were the gowns hanging from seamstress forms lining the bare pathways, a pale, shimmering one immediately catching her eye. She touched it reverently - almost hesitantly, as her work-worn, calloused hands brushed along the chiffon and beading. She halted at the price tag, figuring it would do no good to ruin a dream like that by turning the card over. Feyre had no doubt it was worth every penny the artist was asking, but simply by looking at it she knew she couldn’t afford it with her measly salary and underwhelming savings. Reluctantly, she moved on, eyeing a pair of silk dancing slippers she knew Nesta would love.

Lost in the shelves, Feyre pulled bolt after bolt of fabric and spent far too long sifting through an assortment of silk threads hand-spun in Velaris.

After nearly an hour of being lost in the shelves, she stepped up to the counter and set her items down with a thud, only to come face to face - or face to chest, really - with the most beautiful man she had ever seen. Honestly, he looked like a Greek god. Feyre was not proud to admit that her jaw actually dropped.

Autopilot took full-throttle of the situation as she told him how much of each fabric she wanted, and she was pretty sure she asked for the wrong amount more than once. But she couldn’t really bring herself to care.

The man's hair was so dark it seemed to drink the light; it swirled around his temples and curled at his forehead in tidy cowlicks. His entire physique was that of a sculpture, as if every toned muscle and elegant bone hidden beneath his sweater had been carved by Michelangelo himself. But truly, it was his eyes that had Feyre so mesmerized. His eyes were so blue they were nearly violet; so blue she wanted to swim in them, sketch them, paint them.

It was a shame he had to open his mouth.

His gaze flicked back up to hers as he wrapped the slippers - far more affordable than the dress of starlight. “There you go, darling.” His voice was smooth as velvet, practically a purr. “Is there anything else I can get for you? Buttons? Pin cushion? Clothing patterns?” He folded the last panel and leaned over the cutting mat, the epitome of suave cockiness. “A date, perhaps?”

Just like that, the enchantment broke. Feyre shook her head and rolled her eyes, handing him a wad of cash to pay for her purchases.

The man took it, brushing her hand as he did so. “No? Then, what about a kiss?

She scoffed. “Bite me.”

“Is that an invitation, darling? Surely you know I wouldn’t even dream of doing something like that. At least, not without knowing your name.” He winked one mischievous, violet eye at her, and Feyre flushed. She told herself it was from anger.

“Prick.”

He quirked one perfectly manicured brow. “Prick? Really? I find it hard to believe your parents would choose such a crude name for someone as beautiful as you.”

She glared daggers at him; he knew exactly what she meant. “You.” She growled. “You’re a prick.”

The man only grinned wider and stuck out his hand. “No, I’m Rhysand.”

Feyre hated his sly smirk. She hated his weird eyes. She hated his symmetrical face. Really, every last detail about this man was obnoxious. And it was ruining her vacation.

She batted his hand away. “Not interested. Happy holidays to you.” Without another glance, Feyre brushed past the counter and left the shop, stomping down the snowy stoop so harshly she nearly slipped.

The nerve of men. So arrogant. So smug. So egotistical. She truly couldn’t believe the audacity of people.

It wasn’t until she was blocks from the shop - grumbling and cursing the entire way - that she realized she left without her purchases. A fat stack of gorgeous fabric she intended to use as holiday gifts, left in the clutches of the prick. Of course.

Feyre’s overnight holiday was not turning out to be quite the escape she had planned.

She stomped her feet where she stood, trying to keep blood circulating to her toes. Feyre figured she could woman up, turn around, and take the walk of shame back to the shop where she would surely be greeted with that heinous grin. Or… she could keep exploring and make the most of her time in the city, picking up her purchases before leaving the next morning. Feyre felt there was only one obvious answer.

And so she proceeded, poking around in art shops, walking along the river, and strolling through parks. She captured the beauty of the mountains through the lens of her camera and began dozens of mental sketches depicting the people she saw and places she went. Before she knew it, her day was nearly over, and Feyre was sorely regretting making reservations for only one night. Her mind overflowed with shapes and colors, ideas and images.

Her train didn’t leave until early the next morning, and already she missed Velaris. Something about the city, bustling yet peaceful, felt like home. For the first time in years, Feyre felt like she truly belonged. And she wanted to cling to the feeling with every bit of strength in the hopes it would make everything else fall away.

As the sun began to set, Feyre finally made her way to the building she had most anticipated: Velaris Museum of Art.

The stairs were icy, and she traversed them slowly and carefully, until she hit the very last step. She threw her hands out for balance, but it was too late. Feyre slipped on a patch of ice-covered snow, only to be caught by large, strong hands at the last second. When she regained her footing enough to look up at her savior, her smile dropped.

“There you are,” A voice softer than velvet, right in her ear, made her shudder despite the warmth of the person. “I’ve been looking for you.”

***

The woman had caught his eye across the street as she made her way towards the Velaris Museum of Art. He would notice her anywhere, anytime, in a crowd of millions. Especially after searching for her the entire day. Her honey brown hair, her constellations of freckles, her piercing blue eyes, her attitude. You’d have to be a fool to not notice it all, to not love it all.

Up close, these qualities were even more magnificent. And perhaps to anyone else, her attitude would be a nuisance, her ice-blue eyes nothing more than that. But to Rhysand, that attitude drew him in like a magnet, and those ice-blue eyes seemed to watch the world in an entirely different way. To say his curiosity was piqued would have been understatement.

“Have you been stalking me this entire afternoon?” She pulled away, and Rhysand watched her straighten her coat and smooth her hair. “You shouldn’t do that.”

“But darling, how else was I supposed to return your purchases to you?” He held out a paper bag with the shop name printed across the front, a peace offering. “And if I weren’t here just now, who’s to say you wouldn’t have gotten hurt from slipping on the ice.”

She took the bag from his hand. “Thank you, Rhysand.” She tucked a wisp of hair behind her ear before tentatively going up the last step. “I hope you have a good holiday season and New Year. Take care.”

“Hold on, darling.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets and stepped around her, smoothly avoiding the ice and cutting her off. “I still don’t know your name.”

“Why does it matter?” She crossed her arm, and though the bag on her wrist banged her in the side it didn’t ruin the effect her stare had.

“I figure a name for a name sounds fair.” Rhys shrugged.

She rolled her eyes but stuck her hand out nonetheless. “My name’s Feyre. Now would you please move so that I can see the museum and get out of the cold?”

“Of course, darling.”

“It’s Feyre.”

“Of course, Feyre.”

But still, he didn’t move, just stood there with an impish grin. She stepped around him, and Rhys heard her mumble Prick, under her breath. It only egged him on.

He made it fifteen feet into the museum lobby before Feyre turned suddenly. “Why are you following me?”

Rhys made a show of looking to the side, then behind him, then to the other side. Wide eyed, he placed a hand on his chest. “Me?”

“Yes, you. Why are you following me?”

“Darling, surely you understand this is a public place. I just happened to plan on visiting the museum today. Is there something wrong with that?” They both knew that wasn’t true. His smile dared her to call him out.

“You. Need. To. Stop. It.” She poked him in the chest to emphasize each word. “I am not going on a date with you. By the Mother, would you please let me go about my business in peace?”

“Of course,” He held up his hands in surrender. “I’m not stopping you. Enjoy yourself, Ms. Feyre.”

He waited a moment as she stepped into the queue, then stepped in himself after a rambunctious family with many children separated the two.

It was after he made it into the exhibits, when he was admiring the Mother’s most beautiful work of art, that something hit him square in the face. It snapped Rhys from his reverie, and he could only imagine what he looked like as he glanced around with wide eyes. A silk slipper lay at his feet.

He’d been staring right at Feyre and not even flinched when she had pulled a silk slipper from one of her bags and thrown it right at him.

“I told you to leave me alone!” She stormed up to him, a second slipper in her hand. “Why are you following me? Go away, you prick!”

“Feyre darling, there are children here.” And security. A woman in a dark uniform with a radio on her belt quickly approached them.

“Ma’am,” Her voice was soft but firm, careful to not draw attention to the situation. “May I ask what’s going on here?”

“Forgive me, miss.” Rhysand spoke before Feyre could, somewhat guilty for their predicament. He figured he wouldn’t earn points for getting her kicked out of the museum. “The name is Rhysand Moreno.” Her eyes widened and he continued speaking before she could interrupt. “You see, I was being… What did you say, darling? A prick, I believe? And she was certainly correct and handled it accordingly. I am entirely responsible. But I promise you, we’ll be much more considerate from here on out. Won’t we darling?” Rhys figured a wink wouldn’t hurt the situation. Behind him, Feyre huffed, and he could practically hear her eye roll.

“Ah, I see.” The woman’s cheeks flushed. Triumph flickered in Rhysand’s chest. “Well, I’ll let you off with a warning, but I’m afraid I will have to escort you both out if you can’t control yourselves.”

“I understand. Thank you, ma’am.” He turned to Feyre. “Now, that wasn’t very nice of you.”

“You’re-” Feyre began, then took a breath. “Rhysand. I appreciate you returning my purchases to me. But now you have completed your mission, and I would like to move on. I am only here for my birthday and would appreciate it if you let me enjoy myself.”

“It’s your birthday?” She nodded. “Of course, Feyre darling. I would be more than happy to grant you your birthday wish.” He leaned in closer, and he saw the resolve in her eyes gutter. “But as I said earlier, I already had plans to visit the museum today.” Her glare chilled Rhys to his very marrow. He knew he’d never get enough of the feeling. “I suppose the most beautiful things in life are better when experienced with friends, and nobody should be alone on their birthday. Please join me, darling. I look forward to seeing Van Gogh’s work, but would be so lonely without you.” Without another word, he looped her arm through his and led the way.

***

Feyre didn’t know what to think. This beautiful man was the most infuriating person she had ever met. Relentless, obnoxious, entitled. None of those were good qualities. But his one saving grace was not his looks; it was the fact that he didn’t feel… wrong. There was no sleazy persona to him, there was no malicious glint in the depths of eyes. His grip was loose, so loose they barely made contact. Though their arms remained looped together, he was careful to not touch her anywhere else, and she didn’t once catch him peeking down her shirt. Even Feyre couldn’t claim innocence to that.

She found herself looking at him just as much as the artwork, a truth she would never confess as long as she lived. She ought to have been appreciating the historical, one-of-a-kind pieces surrounding them, pieces she had only ever dreamed of seeing in person. But… Michelangelo. Up close, she could see the perfect, sharp edge of his jaw, the tendons in his neck, the veins in his hands. The tips of his collar bones peeked out from his black sweater, and Feyre couldn’t stop her mind from wandering further south.

Perhaps it was the colors and shapes of the art that surrounded them - a language Feyre truly understood - or the comfort of having someone by her side after so many years spent alone. Either way, she felt far more relaxed than she expected.

When Rhysand broke their silence with a question, Feyre surprised herself by answering.

“I assume you like art?”

Feyre chuckled. “That’s an understatement. I love art. I love it so much that I’m studying it at the community college back home.”

“Ah,” His eyes sparkled, and Feyre had never wished she had a camera more. “Impressive. How long? I study political science here at U of V. I graduate in the spring.”

“Lucky,” She laughed, suddenly self conscious. “I’m just starting; I’ve got two years to go. But I’ve been painting since I was little.” When there was nothing else to do, no one else to be around; when her family had fallen apart and she was left in the crossfire with nothing but art as a defense.

“Could you show me some of your work?”

Just like that, the arrogant prick was gone, replaced with… a man. A gorgeous man. A man who, despite keeping his arm looped through hers, respected her personal space. A man that was showing interest in her art instead of blowing it off as some pipe dream.

“I…” They stopped, and Feyre moved her arm to face him fully. There they were, stopped in front of a Frida Kahlo, and he was asking to see her artwork? “It’s.. Are you serious?”

“Why wouldn’t I be? You’re so beautiful, I can’t begin to imagine what your art must look like.”

It was bad. It was so bad, even he couldn’t keep a straight face. Feyre tried not to laugh. Really, she did. But she just couldn’t help it.

“That is one of the worst pick-up lines anyone has ever used on me,” She gasped out. “And my ex-boyfriend thought calling my hair ‘clean’ was a compliment.” She dug through her purse, opening her phone to a picture of her favorite painting. “But here you go. Don’t judge. As I said, I’m a student. It’s nothing as good as…” she gestured around the entire room. “This.”

“I think I will be the judge of that,” He winked at her as she handed over her phone, but quickly sobered when he focused on it. “That’s…” he trailed off, not taking his eyes from the picture. Feyre nudged him out of the way of people who were there to look at real art, and he hardly even noticed.

His silence was unnerving. “I do promise it looks better in person,” Feyre wrung her hands. “The lighting at the time just wasn’t very good, but-”

“This is perfect.” FInally, he looked up at her. Feyre waited for an impish grin to take over, or for him to start laughing and shout ‘gotcha!’, but he never did. He just handed her phone back to her and asked, “Can I buy a painting from you?”

“I don’t-”

A staticky voice came over the speakers, announcing the museum would be closing. Something sank in the pit of Feyre’s stomach as the end of her stay began to feel all too real. Her train left early in the morning, and she didn’t have the means to visit again for a long time.

“Let’s walk and talk.” Rhysand said, proffering his arm once again. “I’m intrigued. Your work is beautiful, and I would love to gift one of your pieces to my mother next Hanukkah or christmas.”

Now they stepped out into the cold, and as a gust of icy mountain wind blew around them, Feyre pressed closer to Rhysand. For warmth, she told herself.

“I have a proposition for you, Feyre darling,”

Feyre pulled her arm from his and began putting her mittens on. “It better not be another invitation to a date.”

“That was part of it…” When Feyre sent him a death glare, he only winked. “I will make a deal with you. You create a painting for me to give to my mother - any style, medium, and design you deem appropriate - and I will do whatever you wish in return. Be it a date, a tour of the city, or perhaps a nude modeling session. I work out quite often, you know. I’m a perfect specimen.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

“Rhysand-”

“Rhys is fine, please.”

Feyre huffed. “Rhys-”

“Oh,” His smile turned wicked. “And you personally have to deliver the painting directly to me.”

Feyre gaped at him, and she spoke the first thing that came to her mind. “I have never, in my entire life, met anyone as arrogant as you.”

“Why thank you. I do try, you know.” That smirk again.

Feyre knew she wouldn’t do what she was about to do if she was wholeheartedly against it, but she still chose to feign reluctance. Perhaps it was from a childhood where she was given no choice, or perhaps it stemmed from previous relationships where her input had mattered little. Whatever the case, it was safer to be annoyed and distant than to look the truth in the eye.

“I will agree to your deal on one condition.” Feyre huffed and placed her mitten-clad hands on her hips.

“Oh?” He drew the syllable out, raising his eyebrows in sly curiosity. “Do tell.”

“I agree to personally bring you your commission, and you will do…” Feyre considered the possibilities. “Whatever I decide I want you to do, as long as our exchange will take place 365 days from now.”

Rhysand’s grin, which had been growing ever more confident with each word she uttered, fell flat. The satisfaction Feyre felt at the sight burned bright.

He cleared his throat, and tried to plaster the smile back on. It was amusing. Even slightly endearing. “An entire year? Darling, surely you don’t want to wait that long, especially if it means seeing my face again.”

“Not everyone can afford to travel that often, you know.” And she wanted a trip to Velaris to become her own birthday tradition.

“Well, darling, if that’s the only thing preventing you from gracing our city with your presence, then please let me pay for your train ticket.”

“Ah-ah,” Feyre moved to wag her finger, but remembered the mittens and thought better of it. “You’re clever, Rhysand, but so am I. I’m not letting you do anything else for me, lest you use it as leverage for another silly bargain.”

He opened his mouth, then shut it. There was no trace of mischief to be found on his face. His eyes were clear of that sly spark, his mouth was not turned up in that smug grin. He simply looked thoughtful, his smile small and genuine.

“Well then, I suppose I will just have to wait three hundred and sixty five days.”

***

The next morning, when Feyre’s train departed, she was not thinking about the glowing city or looming mountain range. Rather, it was Rhys’ violet eyes that crept into her mind and stayed with her long after she arrived at her destination. Those eyes followed her back home, all the way to her studio, her kitchen, her bedroom. They stayed vigilant in their watch. During late nights with her sketch pad and lazy weekends in front of her easel, she would zone out for indiscernible periods of time and jolt back into reality, only to be met with those endless violet eyes.

…

Master list for this fic :)

[giggle-me-this]

[ Formal ] - Dona

[ 𝐅𝐎����𝐌𝐀𝐋 ] ― Dona greets Nate in formal partywear (spoiler: it’s a wedding dress)

@outterridge @xiomarawinters @loxley-blair-lockhart @harrixtpinnock @virtuoshosh

It was Dona’s wedding day, and Nate kind of couldn’t believe this was actually happening.

I mean, okay—his cousin had sent out those invitations like, a month ago. But like—hasty, much? Who wanted to get married after only a month of being engaged, let alone to someone you barely even knew, whose family-or-whatever-those-evil-cunts-had-been had basically, almost brainwashed you into ditching all your friends and family and committing murder?

And worst of all—a Christmas wedding.

Though Nate supposed it was like…nicely decorated. Sort of. Someone had charmed a quaint little covered outdoor courtyard to feel deep-summer warm, even though it was winter. There were low-hanging lights that twinkled like fireflies, and Loxley had strung up long strands of earthy vines and soft moss. It was—cozy, if you were into that kind of thing. Cute in a backcountry, shotgun-swamp-wedding sort of way. It was…? The word Nate was looking for was—

“Homey,” Xiomara observed flatly, ultimately failing (but trying nonetheless, which was big of her) to hide the note of distaste in her tone. She and Nate were dawdling at the back of the venue uncomfortably as they scoped out a place to sit that wouldn’t, like, completely suck.

“How about over there with…” Nate started to suggest, spotting the back of Loxley’s head and Piper Oliver’s technicolor hair. But at the venomous glare his girlfriend fixed on him, Nate pivoted quickly to: “…um, Ruma?”

The hedge witch and hypnotherapist had allegedly been invaluable in helping to repair much of the mental damage that Dona’s fiancé had suffered, when his mental wards were dismantled. Xi pursed her lips, considering, and then gave a stiff nod when she deemed her own therapist’s company to be the option that was least appalling.

She walked toward the empty seats near Ruma, and Nate followed. But before he could sit down, someone caught his arm.

It was Harriet, and unlike the other bridesmaids (Dona’s flatmates) who were awaited to stand up next to the bride in dresses of rich honey-gold, Nate’s sister was wearing a suit. Not entirely unlike the one Nate was wearing, actually; Harriet had been stealing from his closet less abashedly, these days.

If Harriet hadn’t had the stupid bridesmaid obligations, sitting next to her would have been a no-brainer.

“Don wants to see you,” Harriet said with a hint of impatience—like it was Nate’s fault things were being held up despite him knowing nothing about it. Which—fair, he guessed.

“…now?” Nate said skeptically. And his sister’s I-really-don’t-have-time-for-your-stupid-questions look was all the answer Nate needed.

He told Xi he would be right back, and then made his way to a back room that was being guarded by Dona’s maid of honor—the annoying flatmate, with the long dark hair. Tall boots that went above her knee were visible beneath the long slit in her dress. Nate was pretty sure Xiomara knew her.

The Gryffindor’s arms were akimbo and she was glaring absolute murder at Nate before he’d even said a word, which like—what the fuck, honestly? He opened his mouth to say something, but instead the girl stepped right up to him and shoved a finger into his chest. “Just so you know, asshole—I think this is a really stupid idea and I don’t support it at all. To be frank, I don’t even know why you and Xi were invited. But, this is Dona’s day, and what she says goes, and if you do one single thing to disrupt from her happiness today, god help me I will have one of my many undead friends rip out your stupid throat and gorge themselves on your blood. Got it?”

“Um—sure?” Was all that Nate could think to say to this, and after another minute of staring him down, she finally let him through.

“So, your maid of honor is a psychopath…” Nate said as he entered the bridal suite, in lieu of an entrance line. And now that Nate was in here, what he really wanted to do was just fuck what the crazy Gryffindor had said, and give his cousin his big speech about all the reasons why this wedding was seriously not a good idea…

But then Dona turned around and faced Nate, and fuck, she looked—breathtaking. She was fucking beaming at Nate in a way that lit up her whole face—a smile Nate had certainly not earned the right to have bestowed upon him, in all the many years of disappointing and upsetting his cousin that they’d lived through to get here. No one smiled at Nathaniel Pinnock that way—and he expected no one else ever would.

Her hair was done up in the most stunning, intricate braids, which were coiled at the top of her head like a crown, the long lace of her veil nestled beneath. And her modest gown was a rich ivory that made her skin seem to glow, dark and radiant like she kept a living sun locked inside her body.

Nate was rendered speechless, and Dona smiled with kindness and humble affection at the moronic look on his face.

“You look great, Dona,” Nate said, finally. And that wasn’t enough—never enough.

“Thanks…” she replied, fidgeting with the bateau neckline of her gown. And even though her experiences had hardened the once-innocent Healer, made her bolder—the old Dona peeked through, for a moment, in her nervous blush. “…I know it’s last minute, Nate, but—I need you to do me a favor.”

“Sure, anything,” Nate said, without hesitation. And it was true.

Then Dona took a deep breath, and she said, “I need someone to walk me down the aisle, and give me away.”

Well, that wasn’t what he was expecting. Nate raised up his hands, shifting back. “Dona, I...I mean, why would you—surely Aunt Cat should be the one to—”

“My mom needs to sit out there with yours—to take care of her, so she doesn’t get confused. So I want it to be you.” Nate shifted uncomfortably; sure, he could manage not being a total dick long enough to get through this thing without making a fuss. But this?

Dona’s big round eyes got even bigger and rounder, and she said: “…please, Nate?”

Well, shit. He heaved a long and dramatic sigh, and then smirked. “Fine, fine. But the whole puppy-dog face is a cheap fucking shot, and you know it.”

And then Dona threw herself at Nate to give him a crushing hug, and Nate, despite himself, found that he was smiling.

[thewalkingdead-imagines]

Negan Imagine ~ Christmas Magic

Summary: The Reader visits Negan down in his cell to celebrate Christmas with him, and finally gets the gift that she’s been yearning for

The lock of the cell opened with a rusty clicking sound, mixing with the laughs and chattering of the Christmas fair outside that kept the residents of Alexandria busy during this snowy evening. Everything was covered in lights, the town seemed more alive than ever as people streamed through the streets, talking and laughing while they snacked food from the stands and drank hot chocolate while the kids were playing in the snow. And while the atmosphere outside felt truly magical on its own way, there was no way it could beat spending time down here with the man who was sitting on his bed with a wide, excited grin plastered over his face. “There ya go”, the guard muttered as you slipped inside and quickly thanked him, just before the door clashed back into its frame and the lock clicked once more behind you.  You could barely manage to adjust the bag on your shoulder before a set of strong arms wrapped around you, pulling you against a broad, warm chest. “Missed ya, Doll”, Negan’s deep voice rumbled as he tightened his hold on you for a second, bringing a wave of warmth over your body before he slowly dropped his arms from you, “So you really passed on the holly jolly party outside for some time with ol’ Negan?” “Yep”, you chuckled, glimpsing up at him as a warm smile mixed into the grin on his lips, “I told you I’d come by, I meant it...and I brought some stuff to bring the holly jolly party in here.” You nodded towards your bag, watching as Negan’s thick brows bounced up as he tilted his head slightly. “Well now I’m curious...let’s sit down, I wanna see what you got there”, Negan chuckled, nodding over to the bed that was plastered with a few more pillows that you’d recently brought in. Above it on the wall, fairy lights lit up the room, and the rest of the Christmas decorations that you’d brought in along with the pillows were carefully placed around the furniture in the room. He’d done his best to give this cell some coziness with these goods, and you were honestly surprised how homey it looked.  “It really looks good in here”, you said as you glimpsed around, hearing as a small snort fell from his lips as he strolled back to his bed. “Yeah I don’t think this shithole ever looked better than now”, he said with a grin as he plopped down on the mattress, winking at you as you moved in next to him and carefully dropped your bag in between your feet. Leaning down you started to pull some of the items out while Negan shifted closer and watched you curiously. 

“So we got the hot chocolate”, you said as you pulled the thermos bottle out and handed it to Negan who let out a happy sound before you reached back inside to grab a container,”And here are a bunch of cookies and some more baked stuff.” “Holy fuck”, Negan called out with an amused and excited chuckle. He laid the bottle next to him on the bed to open the container and get a glimpse inside, only to get the look of an almost childlike amusement all over his face.  Just before you managed to push the bag to your side and keep Negan from seeing the wrapped up box that still laid in the bag, you heard his voice again. “Wait there’s still something in there”, Negan said, just as excited as before as you let out a small snort and closed the bag, pushing it to the side to keep him from getting another glimpse at your gift for him. “Yeah, that’s for later”, you chuckled, watching as Negan’s thick brows bounced up with curiosity.  “Ah damn it”, he cursed, just before he shot you a mischievous look,“Guess we two have to lay back until then and enjoy that hot chocolate n’ shit.” “Yep”, you chuckled, feeling more of the cozy warmth flowing through you as you pushed your boots off to finally scoot back on the bed against the wall, right next to him.  “So let’s get started, which ones did you make?”, Negan asked as he grabbed one of the sugar cookies and held the star shaped form up in between his index finger and thumb, glimpsing over at you with a quirked up brow and a grin on his lips. “Not this one, Michonne made those with the kids”, you said, reaching in to grab one of those as well while Negan had already plopped his into his mouth and swallowed it with a big gulp, “I made the brownies.” “Well damn I’m gonna try those next”, he grinned, grabbing one of the small square cut pieces from underneath the cookies right before he bit into them with a relishing groan.  “You’re eager, huh?”, a laugh fell from his lips as you watched him nod quickly. “Abso-fucking-lutely”, he chuckled as soon as he swallowed his piece and ran his tongue over his lips to catch the fudgy crumbs off his skin,”That brownie is damn good, shit, I think my mouth just had an orgasm.” “Oh god”, you laughed, taking a bite off your cookie before you nodded over at him,”I think that’s the best compliment I’ve ever gotten for my baking tho.” “I sure hope so”, Negan grinned, swallowing the rest of the brownie before he leaned towards the can with hot chocolate. It took only a few more moments until you found yourself sipping from the bottle in turns with him, relishing in the richness of the chocolaty flavor while you munched the baked goods in between. By the time you’d both eaten a bunch of the baked goods, Negan had pulled one of the blankets over both of your bodies and had sneaked an arm around you. It laid loosely wrapped around your waist, his thumb brushed in small, slow movements over the fabric of your sweater every once in a while, and the feeling of his closeness honestly warmed you more than the blanket and even the heater in the corner of the room. You found yourself leaning into his touch, and while you always yearned for it, tonight, within the cozy atmosphere that you’d created around you and the feelings that you’d built up for him until this point, the yearning felt especially strong. “Sooo what was that other lil’ thing there in that bag?”, you heard Negan say as he plopped another, smaller Christmas tree shaped cookie into his mouth and pointed towards the bag on the ground. “You’re really curious, huh?”, you chuckled, glimpsing over at him as he swallowed his cookie with a thick gulp and gave you an enthusiastic nod. “‘Course!” “Alright, I guess it’s time”, you replied with a small snort, leaning a little forward to get a hold of the bag and pull it into your lap while Negan’s arm dropped from your body as he sat himself straighter up to get a better look at it. Your body mourned the loss of his touch immediately, though the happy sound that fell from Negan’s lips as soon as you pulled the box out made quickly up for it. “So...you remember when I was on that last big run?”, you asked as you grasped the box a little tighter. It was on the heavy side, so you had to hold it with both of your hands and it seemed to spark Negan’s interest all the more as he quickly nodded. “Well I found something and had to think of you, so I thought it would make a good Christmas present”, you added, trying to hand him the gift but instead, you watched his brows bounce up and the grin on his lips widen while a roguish glance sneaked into his eyes. “So is it something dirty? Is it-” “Nope”, you laughed as you cut him off and shook your head,”Just wait.” “Okay, okay”, he declared, holding his hands up in defense as he finally took the gift out of your grasp and placed it in his lap. “Damn, this is one heavy lil’ motherfucker”, Negan said with another grin as he shifted a little and started to peel the wrapper around the cardboard box open while you could feel yourself starting to grow a little nervous. When you’d grabbed the gift out of the abandoned shop during the run, you’d been actually kind of proud of yourself that you’d found something that he’d surely be happy about but now, now that you’d actually see his reaction to it you were kind of tense. It took just one more movement until Negan swiftly opened the box and revealed the three books that were tightly stacked against one another in its inside. They formed one complete series, starting with the first book that Negan already had in his collection in his little book shelf by the bed and ended with the two others that he’d never been able to read. Until now. Closely, you watched the expression on Negan’s face change as his eyes ran over the titles on the books and he started to recognize the book whose ending he’d been rambling to you about various times. “Damn”, it left his lips as his eyes widened in surprise and is finger brushed over the titles of the other two books. “We came across this book store, and uhm-”, you started, shifting a little over the bed while Negan still stared down at the books,”You were so upset about the cliffhanger at the end of the first book-” “Holy fuck”, he breathed out again, finally looking up at you, still with eyes that were widened in excitement and a big smile that started to grow on his lips,”Thank you so much, Sweetheart.” Immediately, you started to mirror the smile, and the small burden of tension lifted from your shoulders as more joy spread over his face while his glance bounced back to the books. “I thought I’d never find out how this shit ends...this is awesome, damn”, he said, another happy sound falling from his lips as he glanced up again, and made your heart skip a beat as he reached over to you.  With a swift move, he grasped the side of your face and leaned in to press a big kiss on your cheek, his soft lips melting against your skin for a moment while his beard stubble brushed against it and made the warmth that had been coursing through you transform into a heat that rose up into your head. ”You’re the fuckin’ best!”, Negan called out as he leaned back and dropped his hand from your face, though you could see his glance staying focused on you as he noticed the change of color on your face, even though, much to your surprise, he didn’t throw a teasing remark at you for it. Instead, he carefully sat the books next to him on the bed and rose his index finger, with a quick bounce of his brows while his smile melted back into his signature grin. “Speaking of gifts, I got something for you too”, he said, immediately recognizing the surprise that flashed over your face as if he could hear your inner voice questioning how he could’ve gotten something for you even though he was imprisoned 24/7. “I’ve got my ways”, he chuckled, leaning over to the drawer of his nightstand while your heart was still pounding in your chest, keeping the agitation the quick kiss had brought into you going. He’d done it before, a couple times actually, and your body still went into a full shock of joy each time, and it kept on yearning for more of it. “Didn’t you find something else on that last run?”, Negan asked, pulling you out of your thoughts as you shot him a slightly irritated look as you tried to think back at what he could mean, before it started to dim on you as he pulled a small strongbox out of the drawer and you could see a thin, dark golden string peaking out of its inside. “No way”, you breathed out, finally catching a full look at the originally broken necklace that you’d found merely a few hours after you’d found the books for Negan. You’d been charmed by it immediately, by the delicate string that was so thin you’d barely be able to feel it on your skin and the pretty, smooth yet raw, small and clear crystal that was dangling on it. You’d honestly been quite  disappointed when you’d realized that the clasp was broken and it had laid in your home for a while since then, waiting to be magically fixed, so you hadn’t even noticed that it likely had been gone for a bit. “Little birdie told me you were upset that this little fucker was broken so I thought I’d fix it for ya”, Negan grinned, though you could see in the flicker of his eyes that there was a certain tension and nervousness streaming through him as well. “Any chance that little birdie’s name is Judith?”, you chuckled, pretty quickly grasping that it must’ve been her who’d told Negan about the necklace in the first place and had pilfered it for him to fix one of the times she’d been over at your house.  “Maybe”, Negan chuckled, giving you a quick wink as he handed you the small, black strongbox ,”Merry Christmas, Darlin’.” Carefully, you took the box from his grasp and reached for the thin string, pulling it up by your fingers to admire the full beauty of the necklace.  “You want me to help you put it on?”, Negan asked, pulling your full attention back towards him as you quickly nodded and allowed him to take the gift again. Turning around to give him access to the back of your neck, and you could feel goosebumps spreading over your body as soon as he moved closer and laid the necklace around you. His fingers brushed softly against the nape of your neck as he closed the clasp, taking a moment before you heard his voice again. “Alright, done”, he said, as you glimpsed down to get a look at the crystal that dangled about two inches underneath your collarbones before you started to turn around and watched as Negan’s face lit up and made another wave of warmth wash over you. “Looks fuckin’ pretty”, he said, tilting his head a little as his eyes wandered over you and stayed stuck on the necklace for another moment. Just then, his eyes lost some of their excitement as he cleared his throat and a slight sense of gloominess mixed into the smile on his lips. “Wish I could give you something better but uhm...I hope you like this too.” “Are you kidding?”, it almost blustered out of you, the smile that he’d brought onto your lips was still bright and joyful, and you weren’t gonna allow him to lower the value of his gift. “This is awesome”, you added, watching as his smile grew again, as you leaned in to wrap your arms around his neck so you could pull him into a big, warm hug,”Thank you, Negan, thank you so much.” Negan’s arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer in so his warm body could smooth against yours as he nuzzled his head into your shoulder. A low, but happy laugh rumbled through Negan’s chest as he held tightly onto you, and you couldn’t keep yourself from smiling brightly as more warmth rushed into you and made you beam with joy. He had that effect on you, just his laugh or his touch could turn you into a puddle and there was no sense in denying it anymore.  A pleasant shiver ran through your body as Negan held you a little longer, before you slowly and reluctantly started to let go of one another, though not entirely.  Midway, just when you had parted enough to look at each other but still had your grasps on one another, Negan’s glance caught yours and glued you right to the spot, freezing your movement.  A sharp breath escaped you as you caught his eyes moving over your face, the corners of his mouth quirking slightly up as his glance dropped down to your lips and made your heart pound even harsher against your chest than it already had.  Almost unconsciously you moved in closer, craving more of the warmth and coziness that he’d made you feel up until now, pushing you to finally release all the tension that had been building up between the both of you. Your eyes stayed glued to him as you felt him pulling you closer again, and one of his large, rough hands reached up to gently grasp the side of your neck, his thumb brushing over your jaw while his palm spread more warmth over your skin. One more time, his eyes flickered over yours, taking in your reaction to his touch before he leaned in and finally gave you the kiss that you’d been yearning for.  His lips met yours in a mix of tender affection and fiery passion, combining into a sensation that immediately made your head spin in the best way possible. For a moment, you questioned whether this was actually happening, whether you were only dreaming this but each and everything that your senses picked up made you realize that this was your beautiful reality. The taste of chocolate was still lingering on his lips and mixed in a tempting way with their softness and the roughness of his beard, as he took your breath away with his skilled caresses. It felt good, god, this felt so goddamn good and by the time your fingers laced into the dark hair at the nape of his neck, he’d filled your entire body with a tingly warmth. A wave of satisfaction washed over you as he held you even tighter and made you melt into him, eager to feel every little bit of his kiss until you eventually breathlessly let go of one another.  

“Holy fuck...you got no idea for how long I’ve wanted to do this”, Negan mumbled with a chuckle as soon as he’d caught his breath again, though he remained close, with his forehead pressed up against yours while your mind was still trying to realize what had just happened. Softly, Negan’s thumb brushed along your jaw as you took another moment to collect yourself, before you heard his deep voice rumbling up his throat once again, “And no offense to the books but damn...that kiss is my favorite Christmas present.” Just then, his goofiness made you break out of the little trance he’d put you in and made you laugh softly as you watched the grin sneak back onto his lips. “Mine too”, you mumbled with a small chuckle, and before any more words could slip from either of your lips, they found one another again, drawn to each other like magnets. You fell back into his intoxicating kisses in between the fairy lights, the cookies and the hot chocolate, and while the people of Alexandria created their magical Christmas outside in the streets, you experienced your very own version of it down in the cell.

[holdmecloser-gandydancer]

@taznovembercelebration day 3: warmth, wander

Taako thought that wandering aimlessly around the city would be a great way to get acquainted with his new surroundings. He figured just picking a direction and going would let him find some kitschy little shops that locals frequented and little hole-in-the-wall restaurants that would make him feel like the main character from those terrible, self-important movies Lup loved so much. After all, this was his first time flying solo in a new place. Romanticizing his life was something he was told he should do to feel more comfortable. It was a great idea.

The execution could have been better, though. Taako had forgotten to charge his headphones before leaving the apartment so they died ten minutes into his walk. Didn’t really love the soundtrack of cars honking and whizzing past his walk was now forcefully set to.

And Taako had evidently not done enough research on the weather of the new city because nobody told him that the late fall wind would cut through his peacoat like a million little knives. Or that the cold would make him feel like his ears would snap off if the wind shifted. Nobody told him that all the kitschy little shops are clear on the other side of town, walking distance only for the most determined. Nobody told him that all the little hole-in-the-wall restaurants would have weird hours, almost ensuring he’d never get to step foot in them.

But mostly, nobody told him just how lonely this whole thing would be. He’d been in town for only about a month but he still felt like he was at summer camp. Nothing felt real. He didn’t feel motivated to go meet people but he also felt terrible just sitting at home. He felt stuck. Aimless.

The cold broke his introspection like a baseball bat to a windshield. Just when he thought his lips were about to turn blue, he decided to duck into a coffeeshop. It was a chain, much to his chagrin, but a chain he didn’t have back at home. Back where I grew up, he corrected. Like it or not, this was home now.

He flexed his hands, hoping to coax some sensation back into the useless icicles at the end of his arms. After a moment’s contemplation of the menu, he made his way to the counter.

There he was struck by perhaps the most beautiful man he’d ever laid eyes on. Dark, smooth skin, high cheekbones, rich, friendly eyes. Taako didn’t believe in love at first sight, but he did feel a little like rejecting that belief just to get a single chance with this guy.

This guy who no doubt was confused as to why Taako was staring at him, dumbstruck.

“Um. Hi. Could I get –“

The guy, Kravitz, Taako deduced after a quick glance at his nametag, grinned and held a hand up. “Wait don’t tell me, I like guessing, especially when we’re slow.”

Taako glanced around the shop; it did seem a little bit like a ghost town. Maybe a ghost cul-de-sac, he mused. He let a smile creep onto his face. “Alright, what coffee vibe am I giving you?”

Kravitz contemplated for a minute. “Honestly, I think coffee isn’t what you’re looking for.”

Taako blinked, a bit taken aback. Kravitz was right, Taako didn’t even like coffee that much. “Okay, then what am I looking for?”

“Something warm, for sure.”

“Is that really that tough a leap? It’s like thirty-five degrees out there.”

“You’d be surprised at how many people have come in here for iced drinks today!”

“Fair enough. Keep going.”

Kravitz squinted for a minute, his eyes roving over Taako. He felt almost self-conscious at this sustained attention from a cute barista. Almost.

“I think you’re looking for something that tastes like home. Something cozy.” Kravitz said, starting to get to work on making a beverage. “I’m thinking a lavender chai latte with whole milk.”

Taako raised his eyebrows. “Gotta say, that sounds pretty good. How do you know I’m looking for something homey?”

Kravitz shrugged, wincing a bit as the milk screams under the attention of the steaming wand. “You don’t look like you’re from around here. You look a lot nicer.”

“You think I look nice?”

Kravitz nodded and smiled. “Yeah.” His motions to make the latte were so fluid and Taako knew he must have done this somewhere just south of a million times.

“So is being psychic a pre-requisite for the job or did they train you?”

“Just a handy bonus.”

Taako watched as Kravitz expertly poured a little heart into the mug.

“I’m Taako, by the way.”

Kravitz slid the mug across the counter. “I’m Kravitz, but I figured you knew that.”

“What do I owe you?” Taako asked, reaching into his pocket. Kravitz shook his head.

“Nope, consider it a welcome gift.”

Taako shook his head in return. “I don’t need a pity chai latte!”

Kravitz chewed his lip for a moment before smiling easily. “How about if you like it then you let me show you around the city sometime?”

“I’d like that. You’ve got a lot riding on this drink, Kravitz.” Taako picked up his drink and took a large sip. He grinned across the mug at Kravitz. “How about tonight?”

Kravitz picked up a paper sleeve for the disposable cups and scrawled something on it before sliding it to Taako. “Give me a text and we’ll set something up.”

Taako drained the rest of his latte and gave Kravitz a little wave before starting to make his way back home, suddenly feeling much more at home in this unfamiliar city.

[boltwrites]

Misfits - Chapter 3

Fandom: Star Wars - Clone Wars / The Bad Batch Pairing: The Bad Batch / Reader (Polyamorous) Rating: M (Rating May Change) Tags: Polyamorous Relationship, Force-Sensitive Reader, Slow Burn

Work Summary: After a year working with the 501st, you've been assigned a new post - Clone Force 99, aka the Bad Batch. You're concerned about the transition - you found it hard enough to fit in with the 501st, and now you had to acclimate to an entirely new squad. As it turns out, the Bad Batch is very accommodating.

Chapter Summary: Hunter insists that you nap on the way to Kamino.

read it on ao3 | start from ch 1 | or read more below

“Get some sleep. It’ll be a while until we reach Kamino.”

Hunter gestured towards a bunk that you could tell was well used. You worried the inside of your lip, considering the offer.

This ship was a far cry from the accommodations you were used to. It reminded you more of quarters you once shared with a pirate crew – cramped, but cozy.

You didn’t mind it, per say… but it wasn’t what you were used to. On the Resolute, you had your own quarters, completely separate from the rest of the clones. It had been both a blessing and a curse – it afforded you some privacy, being the only female Captain, and working with a majority of clones who had never experienced such direct contact with a woman. It was honestly tiring dealing with their staring – which wasn’t even a majority sexual, honestly. They were just curious about you, and while you didn’t blame them, that didn’t mean you wanted eyes on you while you were just trying to get some rest.

The Bad Batch didn’t seem to be quite as bad as the 501st, and you suspected that perhaps because they were a smaller, elite squad, they had encountered women in different environments than just a club full of clone chasers like 79’s. You could feel Wrecker’s eyes on you half the time, and his curiosity reminded you the most of the 501st’s own sneaking glancing. You also caught Tech looking a few times as you set your meagre belongings in the cargo area – he had seemed flustered and turned away, datapad in hand. You had no idea what his fascination with you was, but you assumed you would find out soon enough. It was almost cute seeing how you flustered him, if only because your own men – or, former men – had grown so used to your presence that they had gotten harder to fluster.

But then, there was Hunter and Echo, who both reminded you of Rex. Rex hadn’t been bothered with your gender if only because he had worked so much with Ahsoka the years prior. You didn’t know who Hunter had worked with that made him so comfortable with you, nor Echo, but you were glad that at least your gender wasn’t causing any more awkward tension than it should. You felt strange enough barging into Hunter’s team, where you technically outranked him as a Captain, but knew about as much as a shiny when it came to this squad.

At least everyone was better than Crosshair, who avoided you like a bad smell. He obviously had some kind of a stick up his ass.

But that was besides the point – the real question was: did you trust these men enough to sleep out in the open like this? You didn’t think they would hurt you, or anything quite so dangerous, but you did value your privacy. And it seemed strange to sleep in their communal space while you still felt like an outsider. That was far too… intimate for your liking.

“I’m fine,” you tried to respond to Hunter’s offer with a polite smile and a nod. You didn’t want your refusal to read as rude – you just didn’t want to open yourself up to something so intimate as sleeping in another clone’s bed, even if it was simply a matter of convenience. You didn’t doubt that the clones crashed in whichever bunk was available – the blankets on the bottom two looked more worn than the top, which alluded to the fact that they shared these.

You denied the offer, even though you were tired. You hadn’t slept since the Resolute had returned to Coruscant, and the fatigue was wearing on you. But you were a force sensitive. You could draw energy that way, you hoped. And maybe with an extra cup of caf from the small galley on the ship.

Hunter frowned at you. It wasn’t that he was outright offended by your refusal – he looked exasperated instead.

“I know you’re tired. Rest. We don’t have private rooms like on the star cruisers you’re used to, but it’s safe.”

Your eyes widened, and you shook your head. “No, I- I didn’t mean-“

“I know. I know we don’t have much,” Hunter shrugged, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms. “But it’s what we’ve got. Took Echo some time to get used to. I don’t blame you.”

You sighed, remembering Echo. Hunter’s looking at you and seeing Echo – another 501st member adjusting to a new place. And, he’s right, to an extent. Maybe you’re overthinking things. The Bad Batch has been nothing but kind to you so far.

“I’m sorry,” you shook your head. “You’re right. It’s different from the 501st. Over there, I had a private Captain’s room. And here-“

“You’re right in it,” Hunter finished. You nodded, sighing. Hunter nodded at you, understanding, before he continued.

“Ain’t no use in separation here. Each member here was selected for a purpose, and each is an expert in that field. I’m a superior in name only – I’m more like a coordinator, if I’m completely honest,” Hunter admitted, and you breathed a sigh of relief.

“So, you guys operate more like pirates or something than an actual military unit?” you asked, with a raised eyebrow and a little quirk of a smile. Hunter shrugged, making a little noncommittal noise.

“I’ve never worked with pirates, but maybe.”

You laughed, relaxing. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, taking a nap in the open. After all, you were going to be working with these men for the foreseeable future. You had to learn to trust them, and if there were any issues with boundaries, you would work it out. It would be fine, especially if the crew operated the way Hunter said they did – you understood that structure far more than you did military hierarchies of command.

“Thank you, Hunter,” you patted his shoulder gently, well aware of the armor that covered it. “If you don’t mind, I think I will take that nap. Maybe up there, though.”

You gestured to one of the top bunks, and Hunter even cracked a smile himself.

“High ground. Good choice.”

You shared a smile, shaking your head at him as he clapped you on the back and made his exit towards the cockpit.

His touch left you warm, even thought it was friendly, the sort of thing the clones took part in all the time. You kind of hated the way your cheeks flushed as you hopped on the bunk, untying your boots and kicking them to the floor, discarding your jacket and what little armor you had (shoulder plates and forearm guards, really) at the end of the bunk.

Not only was the Bad Batch different from the other clones in terms of their operation style – casual, bound by trust rather than duty – they were also different from other clones in certain physical aspects. Hunter’s hair, in particular, caught your eye far more often than it should in a professional sense, even as you tried to ignore it. And that little smile he just gave you –

No. No, you couldn’t do this. You had to work with Hunter, and if something happened between the two of you, you couldn’t count on the fact that you both would be able to remain professional.

You wrapped the blankets around you in a little cocoon as you tried to talk yourself down from all of this. It had been easier with the 501st. Those degrees of separation prevented you from forming those attachments. But here – this wasn’t a military structure. This was a team, a crew. You couldn’t get away from these men – for kark’s sake, they all shared these bunks.

The bunks, including the one you were occupying. They were homey – the blankets wrapped around you were plentiful. A couple were standard issue – you recognized the distinctive Republic insignia emblazoned on them. But some were clearly handmade. There were scraps of fabric entwined, one around another, weaving together to make a sturdy blanket. Another looked to be a quilt, hardy and thick, made to withstand the chill of space travel.

You were enveloped in them, completely cocooned, and you were already starting to warm up again despite the absence of your jacket. You tried to turn your brain off, for just a moment, and relax into the softness of the blankets, into the homey little bunk. The Bad Batch had obviously taken care to make their beds cozy and warm, and you appreciated it – it spoke to how they valued their space, their comfort. It was nice.

You started to drift off, and you couldn’t help but notice that even the blankets smelled nice. Not from a fresh wash, necessarily – no, it smelled more like it was pleasantly lived in. But didn’t it seem like the bottom bunks were the most used by the Batch?

Maybe this was Hunter’s bunk, you considered with a little smile, curling in on yourself. Hadn’t he mentioned the high ground? You imagined that a veteran officer like Hunter might care about things like that – about being able to get a jump on anyone trying to disturb his sleep. He would feel safer up here, like you did. The way this bunk was angled, there was a good view of the outside hatch, so Hunter would be able to see anyone trying to enter the ship.

Maybe it smelled like him, then. You could imagine him wrapped in these blankets too, maybe ones that thankful civilians gave him for his help.

You had told yourself you didn’t want to get attached, but as you drifted off into a light slumber, you couldn’t stop the visions that danced behind your eyes – Hunter in the bunk with you, his broad chest pressed to your back, his arms wrapped around your waist. If he snuggled too close to your shoulder, his hair would tickle your jaw. Maybe he would tell you the stories of the blankets wrapped around the both of you – his fingers tracing over yours as you thumbed over the handmade details, as his low voice hummed in your ear.

You drifted to sleep thinking of him, the thrum of his voice, rough hands against yours. And if those thoughts spilled over into your dreams – that was only for you to know.

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@killtherandomness @pastelpanda19  @nothingadventured-nothinggained @lafy-taffy  @badbatch-simp24 @zazzysseoul @obiwansblog @tired-ninfa

[dizzydancingdreamer]

It's Good | Clintasha

Well-- it's 1:15 and this isn't what I expected to write and post today but it's what happened and I'm not mad at it. It's a deviation from my usual style and I think that's good. I love them and this made my heart happy so I might do more when I need a break. Please enjoy this change of schedule my lovelies!

Pairing: Clint Barton x Natasha Romanoff

Word Count: 1.9k

Tags: Fluff, slight angst

Clint’s fingers weave through her messy red curls, not tugging hard enough to hurt her, only enough to untangle the soft strands. Perhaps, if it were a year ago and the first time she’d stumbled back into the compound— face muddy with streaks of dirt and dried crimson, hair a wild mane and fingers too shaky to do it herself— he would have tugged too hard and earned a shocked yelp. It wouldn’t be his fault— being gentle isn’t really how he operates. At least it wasn’t until it had to be. Now he knows better—

“One or two, Natty?”

It’s taking the redhead a few beats longer than usual to answer, her head slumped towards her chest, and he sighs, quiet enough that he can be sure she doesn’t hear it. He’s not mad at her— or even annoyed— braiding Natasha Romanoff’s hair is one of the few moments of peace he gets to enjoy in his usually chaotic life. One of the few moments he wants. He just wishes it wasn’t here— he wishes it wasn’t so fleeting.

Can you braid hair for the rest of your life and not get tired of it?

He’d like to try.

Just— maybe in a nice house with a dog. Nothing too extravagant— he’ll leave that to Tony— but something cozy. Homey. That’s all he wants— a home. He glances down at the girl in front of him, eyes drawing over the slope of her neck, counting all the little scars— still only seven; that’s good. Maybe he doesn’t want a home— maybe he just wants a home for his home.

“Natty.” He tries again, fingers pushing against her warm scalp, coaxing her tiny body further against his.

She still doesn’t answer and he instantly understands why, her back rising and falling with even inhales and exhales, breaths so much steadier than normal. She’s asleep. Still, he sweeps the fluffy mane as lightly as possible from her cheek, head peeking around to glimpse at her closed eyes— yep, asleep; that’s good. She doesn’t sleep nearly as much as she should. He would never call her out on it. He would call her on other things— and he has, many times— for not eating enough, not relaxing enough, not thinking of her own well being enough— but he would never call her out for not sleeping. He knows better.

He understands.

He has them too— the very same nightmares that have her screaming so loud in her sleep that he’s out of his bed and at her door before his own eyes are even fully open.

It’s why he continues on his mission, his movements somehow even gentler than before.

Grabbing the comb from beside him— a wide tooth thing he picked up once this became a regular happening in order to keep his shitty brush from destroying her curls— Clint rather skillfully parts her hair down the middle, using a band to gather the left half into a loose knot. He learned quickly that if he leaves the halves down at the same time the strands will gravitate back towards each other and re-tangle. It’s like magic how easily her hair becomes untameable. He supposes that’s just her though— wild. Wild but not so free.

He sets the comb back down, running his fingers through her curls one last time before setting to work. Taking three tiny sections from close to her forehead he, almost mechanically, begins to plait the hair on the right half of her head. He always starts on the right. He’s not superstitious but he figures he does it for a reason so who is he to stop doing it now. Testing fate isn’t Clint’s main objective in life— not when he has something to lose.

The movements are locked in his muscles, hands moving from sheer memory. The right strand goes under the middle strand. The left strand goes under the middle strand. Repeat. It’s simple— so simple he wonders why it took him so long to pick it up in the first place. Right strand under, left strand under, repeat. Pick up more hair as you go. Simple. Maybe he just wanted to feel her hands on his for as long as possible— to hear her giggles as she taught him, much too tired for his liking but still mesmerizing. Pick up more hair. Right strand under. Pick up more hair. Left strand under. Natasha is always so damn mesmerizing— even when she’s stumbling through his door, hair still wet from her shower and so worn out that she doesn’t even knock.

He likes it better like that anyway; when she chooses him to help her.

She doesn’t ask for help enough.

He knew that before he started braiding her hair. It simply became more obvious after. He shouldn’t have been so surprised— this is the same girl he saved all those years ago. The same girl he was sent to kill and instead came back with, body tossed over his shoulder, out cold, gun still in his hand and pointed at Nick Fury, daring him to take the next step. The same girl he fought for because something inside him snapped when he had that very same gun aimed at her head and she had begged him to pull the trigger. That was the only time he’s ever seen Nat beg and god if it didn’t spark something almost as wild as her curls inside his chest. He should have known then how hard it would be to get her to ask for help.

Clint sighs again, tying the plait off with another band. He runs his fingers over his work— not half bad. Nat can do it better— of course she can. It's her hair. She can but she chooses not to. So he doesn’t care— not about the little bump halfway down the braid or the way a few strands poke out near the bottom where his movements started to get choppy. None of that matters, only the fact that she’s here, in his arms, finally safe. Even if only for a few hours. His chest squeezes and he forces himself to move his fingers from the completed braid.

God what he wouldn’t do for a secluded house and a golden retriever and a farm.

He starts on the second braid. Under, under, more hair, repeat. He doesn’t know how to farm but it really can’t be that difficult. It would be more for fun than anything. To pass the time. To sit in the sun with this breathtaking woman and not have to think for five minutes. He can’t say that he can picture it— he’s not a liar. Not intentionally, at least. He can’t picture it but he wants to. A dog and a porch and some lemonade. And her. Simple.

It’s so simple and for once something so simple hadn’t taken him ages to learn. He knew right away. It wasn’t like braiding— he didn’t knot his wants the way he knotted her hair for months, fingers stiff and harsh. No, it was simple. How he feels is simple. Love should be simple and with her it is. Loving her isn’t like braiding hair— he didn’t have to learn how to love Natasha he just knew and he did it. He still does it. Like the braiding, it’s now muscle memory. It’s a part of him. It won’t go away.

That’s good.

Sometimes he has to remind himself what in his life is good because, honestly, there aren’t that many things. Most of them— all of them— include the redhead sleeping in his arms. Drinking coffee with her before the sun rises is good. The smell of her cocoa butter lotion on his sheets is good. The softness of her hair, the little black dress she wore to Tony’s party three months ago, the way she stands so close to him at briefings that her shoulder brushes his. Good, good, good. The way his chest feels when she rolls her eyes at his jokes but then the corners of her lips pull up, almost like she’s trying to stop herself from smiling but can’t.

Amazing.

Wonderful.

Life— her smile is life.

She is the embodiment of life— she’s his life.

His entire damn life.

That’s good.

As Clint finishes tying the second braid Natasha stirs against his chest, legs stretching out in front of her and knocking into his which are sprawled on either side of her. Her arms are next, reaching high above her head before falling, landing a little awkwardly against his face. Chuckling, he captures her fingers, smoothing them properly against his cheeks. They’re cold and he’s expecting it, used to the chill of her skin by now and more than happy to share his warmth. She scratches through the stubble on his jaw for a moment, yawning into the dim space of his room.

“What time is it?” She murmurs, rolling her head onto his shoulder.

Her voice is a tad squeaky, laced with the same sleep he can now see clouding her blue eyes and he laughs again, massaging her hands. He has to force himself to not get lost in her stare— a job easier said than done.

“I think eleven— not really sure though.”

She raises a brow, nose scrunching, and he can hear her words before they’re even out of her mouth. They drive a knife through his chest before they’re even out of her mouth.

“Shit ‘m sorry— didn’t mean to pass out.”

If braiding her hair is muscle memory for him then apologizing when she shouldn’t is muscle memory for her. Maybe it would hurt less if she didn’t mean it. But she does— she always means it— and he wishes he could erase the lines around her mouth as it tugs into a frown. He doesn’t have an eraser though.

He only has his arms.

So he does his best to curl them around her shoulders, pressing his face deeper into her wandering fingers. They creep over his jaw and under his eyes, tracing the ridge of his nose and the slight bump that she gave him. He grins at that— she’s a fighter. That’s good. That’s why they’re such good partners— not that she would admit it. She’s too damn hard on herself. Like him tugging on her hair; she’s always too rough.

“How many times do I gotta’ tell you that it’s okay, Natty?” He mumbles, guiding his nose along her fingertips. “You don’t gotta’ apologize.”

She only smiles— I know.

That’s good.

She yawns again, dropping her hands from his face and instead curling them around his arms, her blue eyes fluttering tellingly. It’s what she does when she’s tired but doesn’t want to say anything. Like she’s afraid to tell him that she wants to sleep. Like she’s afraid to sleep at all or she’s afraid he’s going to tell her no. As if he could ever tell her no. There are a lot of things he wants to tell her— ask her. No isn’t one of those things. There are too many other things to let something so silly come between saying them.

Can we paint the walls of our house blue? Can we name our dog Lucky? Will you mar—

Time for bed— he’s losing his mind.

Still, he asks— she always has the deciding choice with him. “You ready to sleep?”

It’s not the first question he would have chosen if he could ask her anything but for now it works— for now it’s good.

Just like her answer— her answer is good too.

It’s a nod and a hum and a “Can you carry me, Clin?”

Yeah, it’s good.

And he knows better than to say no to good.

[e-luxion]

Can you please explain Johnny’s chart now that we know his rising? I never saw him as a Virgo rising but people say it makes sense and I’m like??? I’m not too into astrology to know

Yeah I agree with you, virgo was the last thing on my mind, even tho I think I first typed him as Leo Rising after thinking I was like 100% earth (more Taurus than anything) + 5th house placements so I wasn't wrong, but not right either 😂 I am actually excited to do this

𝙒𝙝𝙮 𝙞𝙩 𝙈𝙖𝙠𝙚𝙨 𝙎𝙚𝙣𝙨𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙅𝙤𝙝𝙣𝙣𝙮 𝙞𝙨 𝙖 𝙑𝙞𝙧𝙜𝙤 𝙍𝙞𝙨𝙞𝙣𝙜:

It is not the Virgo Rising itself, it's actually where his planets fall that makes perfect sense imo:

Sun and Mercury in the 5th house 

I say Johnny has 5th house energy a little too much but I never actually explain why

Sun in the 5th house people are m a g n e t i c. Whether they want to or not, they unconsciously end up being the centre of attention. More times than not people with this placement feel like they were born to do ‘more’ and to shine

5th house suns are warm, generous, creative and for the most part, can be very confident in who they are depending how well or bad aspected this placement is

Even if they are less confident deep inside, they try to be confident and to be that light for others

MERCURY IN THE 5TH -- holy shit, I share this placement and yes, some people find us a bit annoying but we don’t talk about that 

People with this placement tend to be very talkative, they don’t seem to run out of topics to talk about, you could put them in a room with anyone and they’ll find a common ground. 

Natives of this placement tend to also talk almost with hidden meanings, there is always a tone of innuendo, there is always a joke in there somehow

This placement is very much “primary school teacher energy”

Not great at concentration cos there is just so many things they want to do, they always want to do something new and fun. Mercury shows us how we communicate but also how we think, and in this house it becomes... a lot.

Moon in the 10th house

This placement is very interesting, imo the moon is the most important thing in our chart. It shows you not only what makes you feel comfortable and how you feel, but your relationship with your mother, how you were raised, it’s a one of the most decisive pillars of “you”

It’s cause and consequence, it shows you how you were raised and how that affected present day you

This is stereotypical but his career and status is truly very important to him, he needs it to feel safe and fulfilled. It makes sense how no matter how hard it got, how much they pushed his debut to later, he persevered and is such a hard worker.

A m b i t i o u s 

People with this placement are actually very sensitive and have a natural need to care for others, they are easily affected by the outside world which makes them want to almost protect others

It’s honestly such a dad placement

Things associated with this placement are definitely a parent sort of vibe, they are responsible and caring, they worry about others around them

Fun Fact, people with this specific placement tend to attract admiration from others, they inspire security and trust. Other musicians with this placement are John Lennon and Kurt Cobain, both people who inspired millions of people and to this day are remembered

Venus in the 4th house

This is another thing that just painfully makes sense 

You know how this man is always like blah kids, marriage, sentimental shit?? THIS is why! This right here, is a big reason why Johnny is the way he is half of the time I swear. The homey romantic vibes? Heavy 4th house venus shit

4th house Venus people are so nurturing, sensitive and calm? Venus most commonly tells you how you are in love, what kind of partners you want but it shows more than that, it tells you how you look after things, your possessions, your aesthetic... 

Johnny’s love for soft toys, oversized fluffy clothes, all of that is due to his 4th house Venus. He is also probably very sentimental with things from his childhood, or things that remind him of home 

When they fall in love, it is serious because their mentality is for the long term, they are very family oriented hence why they can be wary of who they date

People with this placement have the nicest houses and rooms cos they just know how to make a house a home, it’s always so cozy and dating them would probably feel like like an early morning, wrapped in multiple blanket with the fire place on, hot cocoa and the rain outside

On the downside, people with the placement can be TOO sentimental, to the point where is hard for them to let go of things 

Mars in the 12th

Actually this was the only one which was surprising to me, but tbh this is not a side we would often see of Johnny since we don’t know him like that. And 12th house “hides” whatever it falls on, it internalises it to an extent that the native might not actually be aware of this energy

His Mars in Leo makes him quick to anger, but mars in the 12th house makes him hide that anger, bottle it up until it comes out in a scary way because it was left undealt with for too long

Other things in his chart tell us that he has no problem going after things, like going after his career or pursuing hobbies and success. But this right here shows me that in some ways, he is scared to fully express himself due to an unconscious fear to be vulnerable

Sometimes they focus to helping people too much to hide this vulnerability and their own issues

Coming to terms with his own sensitivity and release toxic mentality is something he probably struggled with at some point 

On a positive note, people with this placement tend to be very welcoming and open-minded towards other, they show the kindness to others that they don't necessarily show themselves

a lot of bitches with 12th house placements in nct damn

Jupiter in the 3rd 

At its most basic, this literally tells you that his talent (Jupiter) is in communication (3rd). Very agile minds, who love learning and acquiring information about different topics, people, things, everything

People with this placement lead the conversation, very positive and enthusiastic in the way they talk with others. Sometimes can be a bit preachy but for the most part they’re open minded, curious, and say what’s on their mind, super expressive when sharing their ideas

@/astroismypassion mentioned that Jupiter in the 3rd native might have moved hometown more than once in their life which I find very interesting as this man moved across the globe to make his dreams come true

Philosophy, arts, cultures, stuff like that is very interesting to them and travelling is a form of mind expansion for them

Jupiter shows us where we have privilege and here it’s education, and a larger than life mentality that them well received by others; they are gifted at communication which means that people usually take them seriously as they can be very eloquent 

Saturn in the 6th

Another placement I share with Johnny which I think would be a flex if it wasn’t for the fact that Saturn in the 6th is actually a very difficult position to have. Saturn is not necessarily happy in this house

It shows an obsession with work, keeping a routine, organising but also struggling in all those areas. For example, you obsessively plan your life because you really struggle naturally to follow plans, timetables and stay organise

People with this placement have a tendency to overwork themselves until they’re ill, so health problems might be occur often due to this. You fear failure so it feels like you can never stop working hard, just in case you fall behind. Anxiety, self criticism is very common here

Honestly he has a couple of placements that just scream chronic workaholic 

Pisces Descendant:

I don't know if this is weird but I thought he had to have Pisces in a “favourable” house, because he seems to attract or get along with people who have Pisces placements specifically so this is not surprising at all.

I’m ngl this man probably daydreams about his s/o, if he is single he’ll just make up little scenarios in his head or has a very clear idea of the kind of interactions or person he wants

Very idealistic, gentle and compassionate in love but also wants partners that match this energy. Heart on his sleeve kind of vibe

He probably attracts slightly chaotic partners, the dreamy artists types 

This man clearly doesn’t want just any love story, he wants the sort of fairy tale romance he can tell his grandkids 

7th house is also like enemies and shit, but I’m not going to talk about 

Gemini Midheaven 

When you meet someone, there is 3 main things you see about them and that is Ascendant, Mercury and Midheaven. Especially when it comes to celebrities, we see their midheaven more than anything 

Gemini MC people always have something going on, they have like 5 careers at the same time, very multi-faceted people. They’re not quite happy at doing one thing but they’re also very adaptable 

In the work environment, he could adapt to others and very much go with the flow of things, jack of all trades. Whatever happens, he can do it and does it well

For now I am going to go on more explaining why everyone is like uhh it makes sense and later I'll actually make a post with more information, in my drafts I have this one post by xx saved from like a year ago of their personality analysis of Johnny, in which they asked if any astrology people could you know back this up. I had written a whole response to it but now that we know I will make a more detailed response and analysis of his birth chart 👁️👁️

𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊, 𝕷𝖚𝖑𝖚 𝖝𝖔𝖝

[cotccotc]

♡ 5:26 pm ; where the heart is

set in the domus amoris universe !

genre/s: fluff, flashback, established relationship au, hyunjin x gn reader

wc: ~380

warnings: none !

a/n: this one’s a bit random but it was a fun writing exercise haha. plus a bit more setting-oriented, since i’m trying to build this lil world in my head. i hope u likey <33

you’d purchased the sofa at a rummage sale down the street. it was shortly after you’d moved into your home together. faux suede. beige. only fairly used, and not at all stained. it seemed like a fluke, but honestly so did everything back then.

you met the man you love, he swept you off your feet, and somewhere down the line he was finally able to convince you that you’d done the same for him. this couch wasn’t the only find on that day; the twin lamps in the bedroom which you placed on either side of the bed you share, the vintage silver tea kettle that had made you smile, prompting hyunjin to purchase it immediately thereafter… somehow, all the pieces seemed to fit into place as soon as you made the big move. similarly to how the two of you fit perfectly on your respective sides of the bed, or how right now, you’re both cozied up on that very couch; bodies intertwined, lips attached as if they’ve never been apart, and souls connected in ways even shakespeare himself could never express to their fullest extent.

on the day you brought the couch, the lamps, and the kettle into your quaint living space, you were pleasantly surprised to find a shiny silver dollar coin tucked under one of the sofa cushions. it glistened in the hazy glow which had been seeping through the blinds on that bright, warm summer’s afternoon. you raised it up into the light to admire it a bit better. it felt almost like a sign. a sign of what? you’d thought to yourself.

but then, as you felt the soft touch of a finger move your hair to the side, you understood. hyunjin placed a sweet, gentle kiss on the side of your neck from behind, wrapping his arms around your middle as your arm remained outstretched, coin in hand. he rested his head on your shoulder, kneading the fabric-covered skin of your sides with his nimble fingers. “welcome home,” he’d said to you.

so, as you sit beside your lover on the fawn-colored sofa, like you’ve done so many times before, you’re reminded of the homey feeling that day had brought about. and, once again, you’re certain this is where you’re meant to stay.

tags: @magglesx, @crscendoforsung, @stayndays, @hanniiesuckle17, @leggomylino, @freckledberries, @pixielix, @skzctnightnight, @serenityswords-main​, @childofthecosmos, @changbinniee​, @kpopscape​, @skzwriternet, @hyunsins (send a 🍓 in my ask box to be added for skz !)

©️ cotccotc 2020 ~ all rights reserved. do not repost my work on tumblr or other platforms.

[yandere-daydreams]

Hnghh can I get a yandere Akaashi scenario where his quiet (fem) s/o manages to escape and goes to Bokuto for help, but it turned out that Bokuto knows of Akaashi’s yandere tendencies and sent s/o back to his home? (Bokuto does so not because he was threatened, but he did so out of his ‘good will’ “man y/n why’d you run away from akaashi? he loves you so much, y’know that?”)

It’s a given that they’re soulmates, whether it’s romantic or platonic. I can only imagine that Bokuto would be as dedicated to Akaashi’s Darling as Akaashi is, if not more so…

TW: Themes of Domestic Abuse, Victim Blaming, and Dehumanization.

~

You’d almost forgotten what it felt like to be comfortable in your own skin.

Bokuto’s hotel room was lavish, but cozy, one of the top-floor suites in a name-brand chain you couldn’t afford to spend the night in, let alone the better half of a month. Still, it was homey, with neutral colors and nooks to tuck yourself away in and a faux-fireplace crackling in the distance, the noise almost drowned out by the rain drumming against the row of thin, floor-to-ceiling windows that lined the far wall. There might’ve been a balcony, but you couldn’t care less about checking, right now, settling against the arm of a plush sofa and pulling a fleece blanket over your legs, hardly noticing when Bokuto stepped out of the kitchenette with two mugs already in-hand.

“Coffee,” He explained, smiling as you took one of the offered cups. You took a sip, the bitterness barely detectable. Instead, it was warm and sweet and perfect, more milk than it was anything else. “Just the way you like it, with too much sugar to fit in one brew.”

You almost laughed. It’d been years since he’d gotten coffee with you, let alone made it with your preferences in mind. Tasting something that wasn’t Akaashi’s energy drinks or murky, black sludge felt like a privilege, albeit a small one. “I really can’t thank you enough,” You mumbled, the words slipping off your tongue before you could stifle them. “When I heard you had a game in town, it felt like a miracle. I couldn’t think of anyone else who’d help, especially with…” With everything, honestly. Akaashi was the one you were running from, the monster who’d taken advantage of your naivety, but you’d started isolating yourself long before he stopped giving you the choice not to. You took another sip, rather than going on, savoring the way it burnt your tongue. “I really mean it, thank you. Do you mind if I use your phone? I should be able to find a place to stay with--”

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about that.” He spoke casually, settling into the opposite side of the couch. “Akaashi should be on his way, by now.”

The coffee went sour in an instant. It was all you could do not to drop the mug entirely, your hands starting to shake as you placed it gingerly on the hard-wood floor. “He’s… What do you mean, Kota’?”

“I called him!” His smile was broader, suddenly, Bokuto beaming as he looked towards you. He was content, proud, his eyes closed and his features expectant, as if he was preparing to be rewarded. “You must’ve been too shy to ask, at first, but you didn’t have to! I knew what I had to do as soon as you turned up in the lobby.” He paused, laughing softly, nearly under his breath. You could swear you felt your heart shatter in your chest. “I mean, you were crying, (Y/n). I know how much you hate being away from Akaashi, but… damn. Your boyfriend wasn’t much better, if it helps. When I told him you must’ve gotten lost, he sounded like he was ready to choke someone!”

You were too stunned to reply, for a moment, your voice dying in your throat. He was so satisfied, so pleased with himself, but it was all you could do to try to process his admission. It was true, technically. You’d been crying since you left your apartment, sobbing by the time the girl at the front desk finally agreed to call his room, and even now, you were trembling. But, you’d told him why you were in tears, too. It was near-incoherent, but you’d vented about the abuse, the screaming, the violence, everything that you’d gone through. Another glance towards Bokuto made you wonder if he’d been paying attention at all, though. “I don’t want to go back to Akaashi,” You tried, your rebuttal lacking the force you’d been aiming for. “That’s why I came to you. I’m trying to get away from him.”

He nodded with faux-sympathy, something empathetic and patronizing ghosting over his expression. “You two had a fight, yeah? Every couple does, now and then.” He shrugged, and your bit your lip. He’d heard you, apparently, but it was obvious he hadn’t been listening. Or, he’d been willing himself not to, at least. “Akaashi is quiet, sometimes, and I get it. It’s hard to know what he’s thinking, but his heart’s in the right place. He loves you.”

“He doesn’t act like it.” You hated how childish you sounded, how cliché your arguments were. You hated the fact that you had to argue at all, when it came to this. “He won’t let me get a job, Kotaro. He broke my last phone because he thought I might be talking to someone else, and he hit me when I tried to tell him I wasn’t. Being with him is suffocating, I can’t breath when he’s--”

“He loves you,” Bokuto repeated, flatly. As if he was talking about the weather, or the outcome of his latest match. A fact, one as true to him as any other. “He doesn’t say it very often, but he does. He talks about you all the time, he adores you.” The affirmation was tinted with something dark, something jealous. Envy, but just a hint. You couldn’t be sure whether or not you’d imagined it, once Bokuto made more of an effort to hire it. “If I was in your position, I’d be grateful. We both know Akaashi could do so much better than some nervous, emotional brat who runs away whenever he tries to be sweet.”

You opened your mouth, averting your eyes as his resentment became undeniable, but a knock at the door silenced you, as steady as it was fatal. You went rigid, reflexively, balling your fists around the blanket on your lap, but Bokuto didn’t share your hesitation. Grinning, he pushed himself up, grabbing your hand and dragging you onto your feet, leaving you standing awkwardly in the center of his suite as he welcomed in the only thing you wanted to keep out.

You froze as soon as you saw Akaashi. He seemed relaxed, but he didn’t smile as he greeted Bokuto, only running a hand through his drenched hair and spitting out something polite. To anyone else, he might seem distracted, but you’d been with him long enough to know how angry he must’ve been, how much of his energy was dedicated to hiding it. You attempted to exhale, to release some of the tension in your body while you were still able to, but the air hitched in your throat as his focus flickered towards you.

He didn’t waste any time. You didn’t receive the same decencies as Bokuto, his arms around your waist and your head pushed into his chest in the blink of an eye, nimble fingers entangling themselves in your hair like it was second-nature. Like he was afraid you’d get away again, if he didn’t hold you as tightly as he could. Like you’d remember you could live without his nails embedded in your scalp.

“Thank you,” He said, firmly, but it wasn’t directed towards you. Bokuto laughed, telling him gratitude wasn’t necessary, but Akaarshi stood his ground regardless. The interaction was friendly, warm, but you couldn’t bring yourself to feel anything but pure, unfaltering cold. “I mean it. I just... I get so worried whenever (Y/n) goes out alone. It gets dangerous, this late.”

You didn’t bother pointing out his hypocrisy, or attempting to free yourself. It was clear neither had an issue with dragging you back to wherever you were wanted.

Still, you couldn’t help but hope Bokuto would notice how quickly you’d started crying, again.

[daisybeewrites]

You Made Me Soup??

word count: 2.5k

warnings: lots of fluff, daisy gets a cold, daniel takes care of her :)

requested? yes

ship: dousy/daniel sousa x daisy johnson

Soooo this is the first writing that i’m posting on tumblr, let me know how I did in the comments! I’m a sucker for Daisy fluff, lets hope you are too b/c this is very fluffy. I appreciate any feedback and I hope you enjoy!

p.s. drop a request in my inbox if you have a fic idea!

Daisy felt like crap. She just got back home from a long, long mission that seemed as if it had dragged on for weeks (it hadn’t). More importantly, she felt like she hadn’t seen Daniel for weeks (she had, in fact, seen him just six days ago). The night air was chilly as she trudged up the stairs to one of her safe-houses. She frequently crashed here after missions, so she wasn’t surprised when Daniel opened the door and bear hugged her. 

“Umph.” Daisy was sore, and her head hurt like a hangover made of bees, but Daniel’s soothing presence relaxed her. He lifted her chin and gave her a deep kiss on the lips. Sousa would love nothing more than to hold her like this for a couple hours minimum, he knew that Daisy needed time to decompress by herself after missions. He helped her inside and shut the door behind them. Daisy's stomach growled. She peered inside the fridge and settled for a tomato and cheese sandwich. Daisy sat at the kitchen island and munched tiredly. Daniel sat on the couch and silently studied her. Something, he thought, is off. 

“Sweetheart?” he called. 

“Yea?” she replied, around a mouthful of bread.

“Are you, uh, feeling okay?” The genuine concern in his voice caused Daisy to sit up some and look over herself. 

“Do I look that bad?” she wasn’t offended, just surprised. There were a couple tears in the legs and one on the side of her suit from the brambles she had had to run through, and she wore dirt all over her face from the dust that had kicked up after she quaked the enemy assailants back about fifty feet. She honestly didn’t think she looked that bad. A tiny frown appeared on her face before Daniel quickly shut down her train of thought. 

“No, no, you look amazing as always,” Daniel got up quickly and stepped across the dark wood paneled floor into the old tiles that covered the ground in the kitchen. “No, Dais, that isn’t what I’m saying.”

As he reached her, he pressed a kiss to her forehead and brushed her hair out of her face. Daniel had to admit, she looked very cute when she was tired. However, he was too worried about how out of it she looked that he couldn't fully appreciate her adorable state. 

“Then what? Do I have leaves in my hair or something? I could’ve sworn I got them all out!” she began to comb her hair out with her fingers. Daniel just grinned. When she was satisfied that there weren’t any leaves in her hair, she glanced back up at him. His hands were on his hips, and he was using his new prosthetic leg that Jemma and Fitz had designed for him. She returned his grin and hopped off the counter so that she could wrap her arms around his gorgeous shoulders. Suddenly, her vision swam with little black dots and she couldn’t quite get her balance. Daniel reached out to steady her with a little more than worry in his eyes this time. 

“Look at that,” Daisy grinned wider, “I’m actually falling for you.” Daniel let out a low sort of chuckle and sighed. “Daisy, I think you need some sleep.”

Daisy patted his chest and nodded. “Probably.” As she said it, she let out an involuntary yawn, “Okay, so definitely. I need sleep.” 

Daisy began to walk back to her bedroom. It was cozy, and the colors reminded her of her bunk on the zephyr. There was a large bed with an old, wooden nightstand to match in the corner, and a few bean bag chairs and a short floor desk so that she could work at night. The bed was covered in comfy quilts and a soft, lavender duvet. No one would have guessed that a superhero lived here except for the hexagonal panels lining the walls, ceiling, and floor. Simmons and Daisy agreed to install them after Daisy almost leveled the house during a nightmare. It had been Daniel who suggested painting them, so that she wouldn’t feel as enclosed, like a caged animal. Daisy had been all for protecting those around her, insisted on it even. That doesn’t mean she didn’t feel weird having her bedroom look like the containment module. So, with Daniel, Coulson, and May's help, she painted the walls a homey grey and covered the floor in colourful mix-matched rugs. She left the ceiling white. 

Daisy trudged over to her bed and slowly started taking her gear off, but got stuck with the zips and hidden ties. 

“Hey, uh, Sou-” she coughed, “I need some help!” Her voice was muffled by the fabric of her suit. Daniel came to lean on the door frame. He smirked at the sight before him. Daisy’s arms were twisted behind her trying to undo a zipper, but had gotten caught while trying to pull it down. Subsequently, the material she had already loosened in the front rose up to reveal her tan, toned stomach. He walked over slowly and put his hands on her waist. 

“Mmmhm, Danny-boy, if you want me to sleep you need to just help me out of this damn suit!” she heard a chuckle and a soft ‘okay’ in response. He reached around her and undid the zipper, freeing her hands of the black fabric. She pulled the top over her head and went to get a sleep shirt. 

Daniel stopped her. “I’ll get it. You just relax.” 

Daisy was too tired to argue. She undressed from the rest of the suit and took the over-sized, comfy clothes he gathered. She pecked his cheek before going to the bathroom to wash her face and put the clothes on. Daniel watched her walk into the bathroom, a bright pink blush on his cheeks when she turned around and noticed him staring. At least he didn't cover his eyes when she changed anymore.

Daisy closed the door and turned the lights on in the bathroom. This was the first time she was able to good look at herself after the mission. She really did look like hell. The scars on her stomach and legs were a tad irritated from wearing her tac gear for so long, and her eyes also looked red. She ignored it and made a mental note to use the healing ointment Jemma had packed in her duffel bag on the red, raised tissue. She leaned forward to get a better look at herself. Her nose itched. Daisy quickly forgot about it as she finished getting ready for bed and slipped into the shirt and shorts that Daniel had handed her. 

When she stepped out of the bathroom, Daniel wasn’t there, but she could hear him in the living room down the hall. She still felt horrible, but the warm, coffee-and-vanilla scent that was just Daniel lulled her into a deep sleep as soon as her head touched the pillow.

When Daisy woke up the next morning, she felt absolutely disgusting. She grumbled as she tried to sit up. Her head was pounding, the pressure centered right between her eyebrows. She noticed the bottle of water and pills sitting on her bedside table, and promptly took them. Her nose hurt now, and her body was achier than it had been last night. She could probably sleep for another hour. Instead, she forced herself onto wobbly legs to take a scalding hot shower. The steam felt good on her muscles, and cleared her senses enough that she could properly breathe. She dressed in a clean t-shirt that she recognized as one of Sousa's and a pair of grey sweatpants (also Sousa's, Daisy stole them). Daisy trekked down the hall towards the warm, inviting couch. 

Daniel felt more than heard Daisy arrive in the living room, but only turned around when he heard a large crash!

“Daisy! Are you okay? What happened?” Daisy was currently laying on the floor next to a fallen lamp. 

“Ow…” she . “I turned the corner and this lamp was here.” 

Daniel crutched over to her, then gracefully sat down beside her. “Sorry Dais, didn’t know the lamp was an enemy combatant.” 

She gave a tired laugh. “I should’ve looked. I don’t feel great right now. I was practically sleepwalking down the hall.” 

Daniel looked over Daisy. He noticed she was wearing his clothes, and tried not to show exactly how that affected him. Daisy snapped him out of his reverie with a small sneeze. Without missing a beat, he handed her his handkerchief. Daisy still thought it odd that he had one, but felt extremely glad he did. Daniel thought he heard a low mumble of ‘cute square’, but couldn’t be sure. Daisy was definitely cute, even when sick.

Daisy groaned as she clutched her head. Daniel swung himself up, and she noticed his leg was... not a leg. Daisy smiled. Knowing that he felt safe enough in her house to relax and not wear his prosthetic made a little bubble of warmth blossom in her chest. Daniel reached a hand down to help her up, and with expert balance, helped her up to her feet. He pressed the cool back of his hand to her forehead. Daisy leaned into the touch. 

“That feels good. Like, really good.” 

Daniel gave her a quizzical stare. “Has anyone ever taken care of you while you were sick?”

Daisy was incredulous. “I’m not sick!” 

Daniel replied with a raised eyebrow and took his hand away from her head. She leaned forward slightly, chasing his hand before stopping herself. It dawned on Daniel that she hadn’t had parents to take care of her when she was a kid, and there was no way she would have let the team nurse her if she came down with something. 

“C’mere,” Daniel led her over to the couch and handed her a thick blanket. She took it and tried to spread it over her legs. Daniel laughed a little as she failed miserably. Daisy pouted and sighed, frustrated. Daniel took the blanket and flourished it, then laid it gently over her. 

“Square,” she teased. An adorable square.

“Your square, though.” Daniel grabbed her hand and pressed a kiss to her palm, then her knuckles and wrist. Daisy didn’t want to admit how good it made her feel. Daniel got up as he directed her to stay there. “I’ll get some stuff to help.” 

Daisy dozed in and out while Sousa gathered what he needed. She could smell something delicious in the kitchen, and heard Sousa walking around. When he was finished, he woke Daisy up with a shake of her shoulder. He carefully helped her sit up. 

“Let’s go,” he stated, with a mischievous smile. 

“Go... where?” she questioned. The look in Sousa’s eye was making her slightly nervous. No, not nervous... just jittery with anticipation. Huh. Daniel started to walk away, checking over his shoulder to see if she was coming. She quickly shook her head and got up. She followed him down the hall to the bathroom, where a warm bath was waiting. 

“Honey?”

“Yes, dear?” Daniel was leaning against the counter, arms crossed, and staring at 

Daisy as if she was the only light in the universe. His gaze made her feel all mushy inside, and she pushed down the tears that almost welled up. Daisy told herself it was because she was sick (but we all know it wasn't). Daniel broke eye contact and pushed himself off the counter. 

“I’ll be in the kitchen," Daniel winked and gave her kiss on the cheek, then left Daisy standing dumbfounded next to the tub. "Holler if you need me.”

She touched where he kissed and promptly undressed. The bath felt like heaven. If only she could keep her eyes open... 

She was woken around fifteen minutes later by the smell of something she could only describe as mouthwatering coming from the kitchen. She toweled off and put on a t-shirt and the shorts she wore the night before. She tip-toed to the kitchen and wrapped her arms around Daniel. Daisy rested her head in between his shoulder blades. She lifted her head and he turned around to place his hands on her waist, slowly pulling her in.

“I don’t think this is safe next to a stove.” Daisy quipped. Daniel murmured something incoherent in her hair. She peered over his shoulder to see what he was cooking.

“Soup?” Daisy questioned, “You... made me soup?” Daniel suddenly seemed shy. He looked away, unsure if he was stepping too far, or if she even liked soup. Even groggy and sick, Daisy picked up on this. She threw her arms around him and whispered into his shoulder. “Thank you, Daniel. No one's ever done this kind of thing for me.” 

His face warmed at hearing her call him Daniel. It wasn't often that she did that, usually she stuck to a silly nickname or called him ‘Sousa’ out of habit. 

“Anything for you, sweetheart.” Daniel leaned in for a kiss, but Daisy quickly leaned away. Daniel sent her a confused, pouty, adorable glare. 

“I-I don’t want you to get sick,” she stuttered by way of explanation, “You should probably stay away until I’m feeling better.” In spite of her words, when Sousa slowly leaned in, she mirrored his movements. 

“So, you do admit you’re sick.” Daniel whispered with a triumphant smile. Daisy wanted to argue, but realized there was no way out of this. She pushed him away and shuffled over to the living room, flopping dramatically on the couch.

“Yes, fine! I’m sick.” Daisy closed her eyes to go back to sleep, then remembered the soup that Daniel was currently pouring into bowls, and sat up. He brought it over and carefully handed it to her. She tried a spoonful and burnt her tongue the first time. When she tried again, she looked up through her lashes at Daniel sitting beside her, intently waiting for her verdict.

“Oh my god, this is amazing!” she half-moaned with delight. “You need to cook more often.”

Daniel watched her eat the soup quietly, and took her bowl to the sink when she was finished. When he got back, Daisy had turned on the TV and was watching Singing in the Rain. He smiled at the familiar picture. They spent the next couple hours watching old movies and cuddling. Daisy had protested at first, but gave in when Daniel threatened to tell Jemma she was sick. Daisy happily drifted to sleep with her head on Daniel's chest and the rest of her wrapped around him like a koala. 

She woke up early the next morning, and somehow got up without waking Daniel. She padded over to the fridge to pour a cup of orange juice, swallowing a couple pills to help get rid of the last dregs of her cold. She felt really good. Better than good, actually. She felt warm and loved and she had a soft smile on her face as she watched Daniel snooze. 

Little did Daisy know, Daniel had absolutely caught her cold. Daisy also didn't know exactly how needy Daniel is when he’s sick. 

A/N: how are you feeling? warm, fuzzy? good. that was my evil plan all along. have a great day and don’t forget to drink water!

[suitofvibraniumarmor]

If You Just Realized

Part Nine: A Little Overwhelmed

Summary: The day after the wedding, Y/N has lunch with Kennedy; Sebastian and Milena have a surprise for her. Pairing: Sebastian Stan x Reader Word Count: 1910 (excluding translations) Series Warnings: Death, angst, sadness. Lots of creative licensing, I’m sure. Chapter Warnings: Sex talk between friends (nothing detailed), feels. Square Filled: This entire series will fill my realized feelings square for @marvelfluffbingo​. A/N: I’ve much enjoyed writing this series, and I hope all of you enjoy reading it! The tag list is open; requests to be added can be done so here. There are bits and pieces of Romanian throughout the series, mostly from Google Translate and the few things I’ve picked up as I learn the language.

Series Masterlist

“So, did you get laid last night?”

Y/N laughed at Kennedy’s wiggling eyebrows. “It’s not that kind of marriage, Ken, remember?”

She rolled her eyes. “I just figured maybe the wedding would have given you two some reason to celebrate or something. I know it’s been a while for you —”

“Hey!”

“And I don’t know about Sebastian but the guy’s been through a lot, he could stand to blow off some steam.” She took a bite of her salad. “Anyway, I really appreciate that you took time to meet me for lunch before I’m back to the West Coast. We don’t see each other nearly enough as it is, and with you in New York indefinitely …”

Y/N sighed and sipped at her iced tea. “You’ll just have to come visit when you can. I’ll do the same. Seb and I can bring Milena out —”

When she realized what she was saying, she stopped and cleared her throat. She couldn’t think of anything to cover for what she had just said, so she shoved a too-big bite of club sandwich in her mouth instead. Kennedy raised her brow and shook her head. 

“Why won’t you even admit it to me, Y/N/N? Even a little bit? You can have feelings for Seb without being full-on in love with him, you know.” 

She only shook your head. “No, it isn’t — see, honestly, I have never thought about him like that. Ever. He’s one of my best friends and I can be myself around him and count on him, and that was enough. More than enough. But then all of this started happening and he asked me to marry him and … and …”

If Kennedy’s brow went any higher, her eyebrows and her hair were going to get tangled together. “And what?”

“And last night, in the hotel room, we — it was just kissing, okay? He was just out of the shower, I needed help with my zipper. And he stopped it because he didn’t want me to think he was trying to get anything more out of this than what we’ve already established.” You drew in a slow, shaky breath. “So, if we’re just friends, why did I want it so bad? Why did I want him so bad? I’m pretty sure it had nothing to do with how long it’s been, before you say anything about that.”

Kennedy giggled. “I know this has nothing to do with that. Me trying to get you to open up about what you’re feeling towards Sebastian is not some sappy romance thing because the two of you got married and are going to parent this little girl together. I want you to really understand what you’re getting into — a short-term marriage that’s going to end in an agreed-upon divorce with someone who means more to you than only being one of your best friends.”

“But it’s never been like this before.”

“Sometimes … sometimes we need a push to help us see where we’re meant to be,” Kennedy shrugged. “Is that as close to admission I’m gonna get you?”

“This trip, anyway,” Y/N smirked. “I’m still trying to process all of this, I think.”

Kennedy finished off her salad then, giving her a few minutes to think. When the waiter came, she took care of the bill. 

“Shittiest wedding present ever,” she joked, “but I also flew out here last minutes so, that counts, right?”

Y/N nodded and laughed. “Absolutely. Thank you, Kennedy. For being here and for — for everything.”

She smiled. “Anytime, friend.” 

When Y/N returned to the apartment, Milena came running towards the door, blocking Y/N from going any further than the front door. 

“Finally!” Milena screeched. 

Y/N lifted the little girl into her arms. “Finally? Have you been waiting so long for me to come home?”

Milena nodded her head and grinned. “A surprise!”

“Hey, hey, don’t be giving away our secrets,” Sebastian laughed, coming into the room. He put a hand on Milena’s back and leaned over to kiss Y/N’s forehead. “I know you just got back, but if you’re up for a little drive, we’ll leave early before we meet everyone at my parents’ house for supper.”

Y/N shrugged. “Sure, I’m okay with that. Let me touch up my face and I’ll be ready to go.”

Milena wiggled down from her hold to go and retrieve her shoes when Sebastian instructed; Y/N headed to the bathroom to touch up her makeup. She was putting more lip gloss on when Milena wandered in, shoes on her feet and a jacket added to her outfit. 

“Uncle Seb said ’s cold.”

Y/N nodded. “It’s kinda chilly — I’m going to put a jacket on, too.”

“Can I have some of that?” Milena’s finger pointed to the gloss Y/N was re-capping. 

She crouched down to Milena’s level and put the tiniest amount on the toddler’s lips. Milena sat very still while the gloss was applied and pointed to the mirror when Y/N was done. 

“Look at those pretty girls,” Sebastian smiled, leaning into the bathroom. “You ready to go?”

“I think so. How about you, princess, you ready?”

Milena nodded, then wrapped her arms around Y/N’s neck in as strong an embrace as she could manage. “Iubes.” [Te iubesc = I love you]

It wasn’t one-hundred percent correct Romanian, but the adults knew what she meant. Y/N snuggled against the toddler, meeting Sebastian’s eyes. She couldn’t read the emotions there, so she closed her eyes and answered Milena honestly. 

“Te iubesc mai malt.” [I love you more.]

The drive to their destination was mostly silent, except for a Disney soundtrack playing and Milena quietly singing along when she thought she knew the words. Y/N wanted to reach for Sebastian’s hand and hold tight, for comfort. Before, she would have done that without question. Now, after what had happened in the hotel room, she was too worried about Sebastian thinking she saw something in their relationship that wasn’t there. Instead, she kept her hands in her jacket pockets and stared out the window for most of the ride. 

“I thought we had somewhere else to go before your parents’ house?” she asked, realizing they were in the same neighborhood where Anthony and Georgeta lived. 

“We do,” Sebastian confirmed. 

He didn’t offer any more information, so she kept her further questions to herself. A couple of minutes later, they pulled into the drive of a pretty house — one Y/N didn’t recognize. Sebastian got Milena out of her seat while Y/N stepped out of the car and took a good look at the house. 

“What is this?”

Sebastian only took her hand and smiled, balancing Milena on his other hip. He walked them up to the front porch, took a key from his pocket, and let them in the front door. 

The place was large and blocked off from street view by a line of trees; the land was extensive. The construction and decor was all contemporary and well cared-for. The bedrooms were large, each had its own walk-in closet. The master bath boasted a tub she already couldn’t wait to sink into. At the back of the house, the shaded patio led to a swimming pool, and a koi pond even, beyond that. Despite the size of the house and its amenities, the place felt very homey — cozy, even. She wandered back through the slider, meeting Sebastian and Milena at the island in the middle of the kitchen. 

“I thought maybe it would be good to be close to my parents,” Sebastian began, after Y/N had a chance to see the whole house. “The schools in the area are rated well, and it’s a quiet neighborhood. We can look at something different, if you’d like. Maybe I’ll have this house longer than …” He glanced at Milena, then cleared his throat. “Anyway, I put a bid in so we wouldn’t miss out, but I wanted your input, too.”

Perhaps this wasn’t so different than when he was demanding they decide together about what custody of Milena to ask for in the court filing, but for Y/N, it did wonders for him to so simply state that he wanted her opinion on such a big decision. She took a deep breath; she could picture Milena growing older here. She could picture them having family movie nights here. She could picture Thanksgiving and Christmas and New Year’s. Though she knew it wouldn’t ever happen, she could picture late night slow dances with Sebastian in the kitchen and changing one of the extra rooms to a nursery for a baby that would be a perfect mix of both of their features. 

Sebastian put a hand at her elbow, pulling her from her reverie. “Hey, if this is too much …”

“No, no, it’s not that, I just,” she fanned herself and chuckled lightly, “I think it’s a little warm in here, yeah?”

His concerned frown didn’t soften. “Bright Eyes?”

How did that, a nickname she had heard a million times, make her feel even more warm? “I’m okay, Seb, promise. I love the house, I really do. So much. And if you love it, since you’re the one keeping it, you should leave the bid. How’d you get the key without being the owner, by the way?”

His frown morphed into a mischievous smirk. “I have my ways. C’mon, girls — let’s get over to Bunica’s before they start to wonder where we are.”

He held Milena’s hand on one side and Y/N’s on the other. At the car, he opened Y/N’s door first, then got Milena settled back into her seat. Y/N watched the house as they drove away, indulging herself on daydreams that were likely to never come true. 

She was silent again on the way to his parents’ house, thanks to the daydreams, and was out of the car quick enough to get Milena from the backseat ahead of Sebastian. The girls headed to the porch ahead of him, but he caught up before they got too far. 

“You all right? You’ve been flushed since before we left my apartment, you’ve hardly said a word in the car …”

“I’m fine. Probably just tired from the last couple of days.”

She made to move forward with Milena again, but Sebastian caught her by the hand. Georgeta opened the front door with a smile, immediately recognized the tension between the newlyweds, and so she beckoned Milena to the house. When it was only the two of them, Sebastian raised his brow, but Y/N shook her head. 

“Hey, c’mon, talk to me,” he pleaded. “Since when do we keep things from each other?”

Y/N sighed and met his eyes again. “I’m not — I don’t want to keep things from you. I’ve just got a lot on my mind, you know? What Milena said before we left, and the house, the wedding. It’s all wonderful, but I think maybe — maybe I’m overwhelmed. I’m okay though, really.”

Sebastian pursed his lips. “If last night —”

“No, don’t even say it,” she interrupted. “I’m not going to let either of us dwell on that and make things awkward. We’ll have a good time with family this evening, I’ll get a good night’s sleep, tomorrow everything will be back to normal. I’m sure of it.”

He held up both of his little fingers. “Double pinky swear?”

She loosened up and laughed, hooking her pinkies with his. “Double pinky swear.”

“Good,” he grinned, taking her by the hand and leading her into the house. 

AllOfTheThings: @captain-s-rogers​ @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan​ @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked​ @hurricanerin​ @horsesandbandsforlife​ @im-not-an-armrest-im-short​ @captain-rogers-beard​ @shynara51​ @sea040561​ @pinknerdpanda​ @xtina2191​ @jackryanplz​ @beakami​ @heartsaved​ @fullprunerebelstatesman​ @blackwidowismyhomegirl​ @averyrogers83​ @jennmurawski13​ @connie326​

IYJR: @elsatxx​ @tanelle83​ @amanda-teaches​ @etherealwaifgoddess​ @kmuir1​ @ntlmundy​ @jayankles​ @rebekahdawkins​ @denise1605​ @rhadigen​ @peace-love-hobbitness​ @itsallyscorner​ @mizzzpink​ @auspiciousharriet​ @the-murder-strut-murdered-me​ @learisa​ @tellmewhatyouwill​ @katherinereid​ @lokilokilokilokilokiloki​ @thewolfsenate

[floral-and-fine]

Endless Orange part 1

Fred Weasley x Fem reader

Summary: Feeling lonely, fate leads Fred to a coffee shop. 

A/n: Hey, y'all! This story will definitely have more than one part! Already almost done with part 2 :) I'm having a lot of fun with it and I'm pretty happy with it so far! It'll probably be mostly fluff and maybe some smut, we'll see :P Enjoy!

Thank you @luna-xial​ for the help!

Fred sighed as he started closing up shop for the night. He sent George home early. It seemed appropriate for his brother, who had a beautiful wife and children waiting for him, to get every chance he could to spend the evening at home with them.

George had suggested that they close early and that Fred should join them for dinner, but he declined the offer.

While Fred was always welcomed in their home, he was beginning to feel like a burden. Gradually, more and more of his time was spent alone. He was beginning to feel like a third wheel. The uncle who was constantly hanging around, staying longer than he should, well after the children had gone to bed.

Even amongst the rest of his family, he felt left out, it was a rather odd thing to feel. Everyone seemed to have somebody, his parents had each other, Bill had Fluer, Percy had Audrey, George had Angelina, Ron had Hermione, Ginny had Harry, even Charlie had his dragons… He had never felt like the odd man out before.

Up until recently, Fred and George had been moving in the same direction born together, went to school together, worked together…but now his life and the life of his twin had finally splintered and they were finally on different paths.

Fred often caught himself wanting to turn to George and share an idea or a witty joke, only to realize that his brother wasn’t there.

He was truly happy for George and Angelina. He just sort of wished that he had someone too.

But instead of meeting anyone or even trying to meet anyone, Fred focused on the business. He spent countless hours working alone on new products. Stayed late doing whatever he could to stay distracted.

If Fred was being honest with himself, he’d admit that all the time he was spent at work was to avoid having to deal with his loneliness. Sometimes he even worked through the night or would fall asleep in the workshop to avoid having to come home to his dark and empty apartment.

Fred tucked his hands into his pockets, there wasn’t anything left for him to do. Everything was clean, shelves were stocked, the store was all set for tomorrow.

He would spend time developing new products but lately, he was having a dry spell, no new ideas or if he did have one it wasn’t any good.

Fred started feeling anxious, standing there in an empty store with nothing but silence to keep him company, slowly that lonely feeling he dreaded was starting to sink in.

Shaking his head, he quickly slipped on his jacket and locked the door.

Outside the air was cool and crisp, and the night sky was full of stars. Not wanting to go home, Fred started walking aimlessly.

Most of the businesses he passed were closed for the night. The streets were dark and vacant with the exception of the occasional street lamp and stray cat.  

Fred mulled over ideas in his head for new products, he had been thinking about that age line spell from 6th year, wondering if there was a way him and George could create a cream or candy that would age the user by 100 years, temporarily of course.

He frowned to himself, wondering if it was even a good idea and if their customers would even buy something like that.

Could just be a waste of time… or it could be a fun prank to pull on someone else. The kids who witnessed him and George suddenly become old men seemed to find it pretty hilarious. Fred continued to go back and forth on the idea until he gave up.

He groaned loudly, this was way easier when George was around to bounce ideas off of. He’d just have to wait until tomorrow morning, see what George had to say then.

Fred finally stopped walking once he realized that he had no clue where he was. He could easily apparate home, but his eyes were drawn to the building he stopped in front of.

The warm light was like a beacon, pulling Fred to it, without thinking he entered the small muggle establishment.

Inside it was cozy and smelled of vanilla and cinnamon.

The woman behind the counter watched Fred intently with a playful smile on her lips. His unique orange suit that clashed with his red hair piqued her interest, making her want to know more about him. He was by far the most intriguing person that’s walked in all week.

He carefully took in his new surroundings, mismatched furniture, local artwork decorating the walls, and the homey interior that reminded him of the burrow.

“Can I help you?” She spoke up, finally drawing his attention to her.

Fred blinked a few times, his mouth hanging open, he wasn’t expecting to meet anyone so...attractive. He openly stared a moment longer, taking in her features and her bright smile.

As he was about to reply, his mouth snapped shut, it just dawned on him that he didn’t have any money to pay for anything, well not any money that she’d want anyway.

Sheepishly running his hand through his hair, Fred chuckled, “‘Afraid I don’t have any money on me.”

“That’s alright, find a place to sit and I’ll bring you a little something,” y/n said pulling out an orange mug.

“You don’t have to do that,” Fred objected.

She laughed, “Don’t worry about it, it’s nothing fancy. I’m gonna have to throw out this pot of coffee in a bit anyway.”

Fred smiled and took a seat by the window. She brought him a cup of coffee and a scone on a small matching plate, setting them both in front of him.

“Thank you…. y/n,” Fred added reading her name on the tag pinned to her apron. “I’m Fred, by the way,” he introduced himself.

“You’re welcome, I guess,” she said, shrugging her shoulders. “It’s just old coffee and a stale pastry.”

She lingered by the table, rocking slightly on the balls of her feet. “May I ask you a question?” Y/n finally asked, tilting her head.

“Sure,” Fred answered, taking a big bite of the scone, now realizing how hungry he was.

“What’s with the suit?”

He chuckled, “just left work.”

Y/n nodded, “and?”

Fred just stared at her, not quite understanding her interest in the suit.

“It’s just such an unusual color,” she explained, now noticing the gold ‘W’ pin on his tie and the playful design on his dress shirt.

“Oh, well, you see my brother George and I run a joke shop together, the suit just kind of goes with it all.”

She clapped her hands together, “That’s fantastic! Honestly, I love it, it’s a great suit.” Without thinking y/n took the seat across from Fred, not that he minded.

“So you and your brother own a joke shop? You look awfully young to own your own business.”

“Georgie and I have had a lifelong passion for practical jokes and pranks,” he explained, adding an obscene amount of sugar to his coffee. “We started designing and making our own products while we were still in school.”

“That’s incredible,” y/n gushed. “So as boys did you guys start off with things like hand buzzers and whoopee cushions?”

Fred quirked an eyebrow, what in the world was a whoopee cushion, “a what?”

“Oh you know, it’s a rubber cushion filled with air that you hide on someone’s seat, so it makes it sound like they broke wind,” she described.

Fred laughed, “That’s brilliant.”

He didn’t quite share his father’s interest in muggle gadgets, but maybe that’ll change. He could already imagine what the magical counterpart of a whoopee cushion would be like.

“What were some of your favorite pranks from your childhood?” Y/n asked, leaning forward, her eyes sparkling with delight.

Fred started sharing stories of some of their earlier pranks, making sure he left out all talk of magic and spells. The sound of her laughter and genuine interest spurred him on.

“Fireworks? Really? That’s unbelievable!” She gasped.

“I don’t think you quite grasp how much we despised that woman,” He smirked, finishing off his cup of coffee.

Y/n sighed, it had been quite some time since she’d had so much fun. She was about to ask him another question until she spotted the clock hanging on the wall.

“Oh wow!” She announced practically jumping out of her seat. “It’s getting late! It’s already past closing.”

“Sorry,” Fred started, standing up and getting ready to leave, but y/n lightly swatted his arm.

“Don’t be! I really enjoyed talking with you.” She grabbed the empty dishes off the table. Looking up at Fred, she bit her lip. “Maybe I’ll see you again sometime.”

A wide grin formed on Fred’s face, “Do you work tomorrow night?”