#fluff all around

[generalsdiary]

not rover pulling the "we can get discounts from the vendors if we go as a couple/together" BRO LIKE CASUAL RIZZ? (I'm like sure I've seen that line in a kdrama or something ISTG)

casually calling him Yao

the headpat option for xianglee? and his little stutter when you do choose the option??

xiangli yao is so subtle in his flirting, it is so casual, so soft, bro can you be any more boyfriend codded like???

seeker of truth but the only thing that held him back was the desire for companionship (veritas ratio you haunt me in every universe)

obvious love languages are quality time and gift giving that man would do anything to grant a wish in this essay I will-

that man is so soft spoken, so gentle- for once someone didn't jump our bones, but casually knew who we were and subtly spoke his admiration for us and desire to meet us

"you do have a gentle soul" "ever thought about becoming fhe mysterious wish granter..." OFFERING HIS PRIVATE JOB HELLO? okay casual flirting, okay (it's giving boyfailure with that type of flirting ngl but he isn't boyfailure)

yes, allow me to rant about you, to you, in third person, to brag about you and go on a whole rant full of compliments to state that you, rover, are a whole ass hero

"there's no need to look far"

and he has conversation sense, bouncing off of rover's jokes and flirting smoothly they just match each other's vibes; rover needed someone chill istg

rover saving xiangli yao FINALLY A NONTOXIC YAOI LETSGO, and he is so caring and patient; immediately asking if rover is okay once outside of the sphere (biting a couch pillow rn)

the girls call rover over to come early- rover -_-, xiangli yao calls rover to come over- 🏃🏻

xiangli yao calling the rover "my friend" to partner pipeline is so real (right after that is the pat the bot's head option), rover when chatting with the kids referring to yao as their "mecha arm partner" THE FIC WRITES ITSELF

"maybe I should include it in the employee handbook" "we have a handbook already?" WE? the work unit of the TWO OF US? WE is this kinda domestic or am I tweaking- like yes, my partner, I've joined your start up, non-profit, no funds company and I'm your one and only employee (not counting the kids / his bots) and therefore it is now WE, cos I feel so comfortable at this job and with you, my PARTNER-

also, rly cute thing is xianglee and abby hanging out in the bg (the kids get along I'M NOT OKAY)

the parallels to ratio haunt me send help I cannot escape that man

[absentlurker]

Steve is standing in front of the stove when Eddie stumbles downstairs. Steve’s eyes are on a pan and he’s mumbling softly to himself.

Eddie walks closer and hears Steve mumble, “runny yolks…let’s pull it off now.” Eddie is seated at the breakfast bar by the time Steve turns slightly to move the fried eggs on a plate.

Steve jumps slightly at the sudden sight of him before smiling brightly, “Good morning! I thought I was going to have to wake you up!” He cuts the toast sitting to the side, plates it with the eggs before placing it in front of Eddie.

Steve turns around with a fork before hesitating, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Eddie has his head propped up on two fists with a large closed-mouthed smile as he looks at Steve. Steve huffs and puts a hand on his hip at the continuing silence, “What?!” he questions.

“You like me.” Eddie answers with that same bright smile, “What?” Steve asks again with a laugh.

“You liiiiiiike me!” Eddie exclaims, “you like me so much you wanna get my eggs right!”

Steve rolls his eyes as he drops the fork by Eddie’s plate, “eat your breakfast.” Eddie snickers to himself.

“Stevie’s got a cruuush on meee,” he sings, “he wants to make me breakfast and date me and-and be my boooyfriend.”

Steve takes a bite of his toast as he eyes Eddie. He takes in his tall figure, his curly hair trying to escape the half-ass pony tail he has it in, his faded red boxers and black tank top with a hole in the bottom right. His pale limbs and long fingers that are ringless and the faint pillow lines from Steve’s pillows on the side of his face.

Steve smiles, besotted.

“Yeah,” he answers softly, “that’s pretty accurate.”

Eddie stares back at him, mouth agape before he flushes bright red and tries to hide his face with his hair.

“Steeeeeve,” he whines, “that’s so embarrassing, man!” Steve laughs as Eddie abandons his breakfast to wrap his arms around his waist and nuzzles in close to him.

“I’m a mere mortal! I can’t handle all these feelings!” He says dramatically. Steve snickers as he holds Eddie and sways them back and forth.

“Eddie has a cruuuush on me,” Steve sings to Eddie’s loud ‘ugh!’, “he wants to date me and kiss me and looove me.”

Eddie pulls back to kiss Steve softly before smiling against his lips and saying, “Yeah…that’s accurate.”

[daenysthedreamer101]

Daughter of Steel and Bronze ~ HOTD

Ch 15 - To Mend a Broken Heart

HOTD x Targaryen!OC, Targaryen!OC x Harwin Strong

Warnings: slight make-out session? They get a bit horny lol. Daena and Harwin being sappy, love-sick fools, fluffy overall

A/N - I'm obsessed with this painting of the knight and the lady. It's so beautiful and represents Harwin and Daena so well

HOTD masterlist

"Not much can be said for the couple following years - Queen Alicent gave birth to another son, Prince Aemond in 116 AC. Once again, Princess Rhaenyra's status as heir was questioned, but the King ignored all the whispers at court.

On Driftmark, Prince Daemon wed Lady Laena Velaryon. Many took notice of this, as the wedding followed quickly after the death of his first wife, Rhea Royce. Not even a year has passed and the Rogue Prince found himself a second wife. 

His daughter, Princess Daena, stayed shrouded in black for an entire year, following the death of her mother. The once vivacious princess was now a shell of her former self, refusing to eat or drink, barely sleeping, and confining herself to her chambers. Some believe she never truly recovered." 

(Fire & Blood, Being a History of the Targaryen Kings of Westeros, by Archmaester Gyldayn)

~

116 AC

During the first two months after her mother's passing (before Rhaenyra's wedding), Daena visited the Eyrie, intending to speak to its ruling Lady, Jeyne Arryn. They discussed her inheritance and her new role as Lady of Runestone.

Daena knew that as Rhea's only child, she was the heir to Runestone and upon her mother's death, she became its new ruler. But there was just one problem. She was Daena Targaryen, not Daena Royce.

She had Royce blood. She was raised at Runestone and knew the castle better than any living soul and the Vale had a special place in her heart. But, she was a dragon. She was fire and blood. She loved her mother's side of the family dearly but, she could never part ways with her last name. She could never imagine herself as anything other than a Targaryen.

That is why she flew to the Eyrie and spent three whole days there, talking with Lady Jeyne for hours. She also reconnected with her distant cousin, Jessamyn Redfort, a 'dear companion' of Lady Jeyne. 

~

Following Rhaenyra and Laenor's less-than-perfect wedding, Daena (with the King's permission) relocated to Dragonstone, where she spent most of her time, mourning. There was no way in the Seven Hells she would spend any unnecessary time at King's Landing, for she loathed the city. She also had no desire to go back to Runestone, even though it was her birth-given right and duty.

Ultimately, she settled for Dragonstone, the ancestral home of House Targaryen. Both she and her dragon loved the smoky air and gloomy atmosphere of the island. There, she could sulk in peace, without worrying about what the lords and ladies of the Red Keep would say.

With her, Daena brought Harwin and Hanna. Joy, the older and more outgoing of the two sisters, was married off to Ser Elmo Tully, the heir to Riverrun and the future Lord Paramount of the Riverlands. Initially, Daena was quite sad; she would miss Joy's lively spirit. But on further thought, she realized it would be a good thing to have one of her most trusted friends become the future Lady of Riverrun. 

The months she spent on Dragonstone were quiet, peaceful, and healing. On the nearby island of Driftmark, her father and Lady Laena were wedded; not even half a year has passed and her father has already found himself a new wife. It stung Daena, the fact her father was so quickly able to move on from her mother's death as if she never existed. She did not attend their wedding.

But, Lady Laena was kind, beautiful, of pure Valyrian blood, and as of late, a dragon rider. Months before Rhaenyra's wedding, Laena claimed Vhagar, the largest dragon in the world. Vhagar was almost two hundred years old and was one of the three dragons Aegon I used to conquer Westeros. Only a bold spirit could claim such a beast and Laena proved she was worthy of riding the Queen of all dragons. 

Harwin didn't know what to make of Dragonstone. The first time he laid his eyes on the island it was hidden by fog and mist, the smell of salt and smoke hitting his nose. The castle itself was a wonder to see; built by the last Valyrians, it was an homage to their once-powerful Empire. It was wholly non-Westerosi. Everything about it was made to honor and glorify dragons. 

It was unnerving to live in, to say the least. A grim place, Dragonstone was built with arcane arts, fire, and sorcery. Draconic architecture could be found in every nook and cranny of the castle. Door handles, murals, candles, goblets, chairs, tables, mirrors, wall carvings, statues; the entire castle was shaped like one giant dragon. Harwin did not like the idea of living inside a dragon's belly. 

But who was he to disobey his darling Princess? 

Speaking of said Princess, she was leaning on one of the many balconies that were perched up on the walls of the castle. She seemed in deep thought, her gaze focused on the roaring sea. She looked so hauntingly beautiful, Harwin thought; her long silver hair was pulled up, and she was shrouded in black as she always was these days. Around her neck, she wore the Valyrian steel necklace her father gifted her. 

He stood behind her, slightly to her right, watching, observing her. Her face was expressionless, but he could see so much pain and grief inside her lilac eyes. She drummed her fingers against the stone balcony. 

"I wish to walk on the beach." She said quietly. 

Harwin looked up at the sky - large, grey clouds were covering up the sun and it looked like it would rain any minute. 

"Are you certain, Princess? What if it rains?" 

"Then we'll be wet." She stated, turning to face him. 

Her once lively face was blank, and Harwin couldn't help but notice how her new way of dressing made her look significantly older than she was. Before he could respond, she walked past him, quickly descending the long flight of stairs. 

~

The bottom of her black gown dragged across the wet sand but she paid it no mind. The wind carried a scent of smoke and salt, something she enjoyed immensely. There was a certain coolness to the air which indicated to her it would rain soon. As someone who spent a lot of time high up in the air, she knew the telltale signs of an incoming storm.

"I received a letter from Joy this morning," Harwin said, breaking the silence. 

She looked up at him. "You did? What does it say?"

"She says the Tullys are most hospitable and that they take great care of their future Lady." 

Daena smiled at the news. She was glad the Tullys were taking good care of her friend. 

"There's more," Harwin added and stopped suddenly. 

Daena stopped as well, waiting for him to reveal more news. 

"She is with child." 

Daena was speechless. "That's wonderful! You're going to be an uncle!" 

Harwin chuckled. "I suppose I will." 

Daena's smile faded. "...I haven't received any letter from her since she moved to Riverrun. I think she's cross with me."

Harwin furrowed his brows. "Why do you think that?"

"Because...I didn't attend her wedding." She mumbled, nervously playing with her necklace. 

Harwin chuckled once again. He took hold of her hand, kissing the inside of her wrist. Putting his other hand around her waist, he pulled her closer, their faces inches away. He placed his forehead against hers. 

"It is not in my sister's nature to be resentful. It must have slipped her notice once she found out she was pregnant." Harwin said quietly, looking deeply into Daena's eyes. Her pupils were wide, making her eyes appear darker. She placed her other hand on his forearm.

"I- I suppose you are right." She whispered, her eyes falling to his lips. 

He smiled at her, nudging his nose against hers, and kissed the side of her head. She sighed in contentment, placing her head onto his breastplate. The cool metal felt nice against her hot skin. He placed many small kisses on top of her head, holding her tightly against his body. He inhaled the scent of her hair - lemon and rose oil.

She felt her heart skipping a beat. Ever since her mother's death, she's been...distant and formal with Harwin, ignoring the way he looked at her, ignoring whenever he called her 'love.' In a way, she was punishing herself, abstaining from his touch, depriving herself of any joy. 

Not anymore.

"Kiss me." She pleaded, looking up at him, her eyes full of desperation and desire. 

Harwin was taken aback. They haven't had any intimate moments ever since Lady Rhea passed. Daena noticeably distanced herself, and he respected her wishes even though it broke his heart. And now here she was, begging for his love. 

"Are you certain?"

Daena tsked and grabbed his head, pulling him down and connecting their lips. He stumbled a bit, not expecting her to react that way. He put his hands on her hips, squeezing her soft flesh. Her fingers were tangled in his dark curls, drawing him closer. 

He grabbed the back of her head, deepening the kiss. He gently bit her lower lip, making her gasp in surprise, giving him further access to ravage her mouth. All the little noises she was making were spurring him on and he couldn't help but notice his pants tightening.  

"Harwin..." She whined his name and it sent a shiver down his spine.

"The things you do to me, you pretty little thing...You don't even know." He groaned in her ear and the sound went straight to her core, making her clench around nothing. His hot breath made the hairs on her neck stand up. 

"But I do...You have ignited a fire in my heart and it burns so sweetly I wish for it to burn forever. I wish for it to consume me whole." 

His hold on her hips tightened and it ached slightly, but she didn't dare to move. A low growl left his throat as he inhaled her scent.  "Those are dangerous words, little dove."

"I know you feel the same way." She whispered into his ear. 

Before he could respond, the sky opened and rain started pouring from the clouds above. To her surprise, he picked her up and ran toward the castle. A gasp escaped her lips upon realizing her feet were off the ground. 

For the first time in months, she laughed. 

~

"WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?" Hanna screeched as she saw the Princess and her brother enter the castle, sopping wet. 

"We were just taking a stroll on the beach," Daena answered innocently as Hanna dragged her toward her chambers. 

"Quick, Princess! We must change your clothes or you'll get sick." Hanna rambled on as they reached the room's door. 

Daena chuckled at her friend's worry. "No need to worry so much, my dear. I'll be fine." 

Hanna clicked her tongue and shook her head in disapproval, catching sight of her brother. "You too, Harwin. Go and change."

"Why of course, my Lady," Harwin said with a smirk. 

"I'm serious!" Hanna hissed angrily at her big brother. 

"Alright Hanna, dear, I'm sure Ser Harwin can take care of himself. Now, come and help me get out of this dress. I'm positively soaked." Daena said, pulling Hanna by her sleeve. 

"Congratulations on your sister's pregnancy," Daena muttered as Hanna massaged oils into her skin. The light of the now-waning sun trickled faintly into her bedchamber. The fireplace was lit, warming the room and adding additional light. Daena was ready to retire for the day. 

"...You know?" Hanna asked, her voice coated with surprise.

"Harwin told me while we strolled on the beach," Daena said, leaning back in her bathtub. 

Hanna stayed quiet. 

"What's the matter?" Daena asked. 

"Nothing, Princess."

"Hanna. I know you. You've been unusually snappy today. Something's bothering you. Won't you confide in me? I thought we were friends."

"It's just- Joy's pregnancy. It made me think of my own life."

"Yes?"

"I'm afraid Father will soon marry me off."

"Would that be a problem?" 

"I-"

A knock on the door interrupted their conversation. Hanna wiped her hands, got up, and went to see who was knocking. Daena could hear the measter's hushed voice. Hanna was back with something in her hands. 

"A letter for you Princess. From King's Landing."

A sigh escaped Daena's lips. She perched herself up, picked up a towel from the side of the tub, and wiped her hands. Hanna handed her the letter. 

Her eyes went over the lines over and over again. A frown appeared on her face and an agitated groan left her lips. She crumbled the letter and threw it away.

~

The Princess was in a foul mood this morning, Harwin noticed. He could see it in her eyes, in the way her jaw was tense, in the way her brows were furrowed. Instead of talking, she sighed, clicked her tongue, and rolled her eyes at everyone. She was annoyed, dare he say angry. 

Why? Harwin didn't know. 

They were now in Aegon's Garden - it was filled with tall dark trees, wild roses, and cranberries. It had a pleasant piney smell. Daena sat down on a large bench made of black stone. She patted the seat next to her and Harwin sat down. 

She took a deep breath, taking in the scent of all the wildflowers. "This was always my favorite part of the island. I like how quiet and peaceful it is here. I've never felt such tranquility anywhere else."

"... I'm sure you have noticed my less-than-pleasant behavior today. I'm sure you've wondered why that is."

She handed him a crumbled letter. "This is why."

Harwin's brows were furred as he read it. "So, what does this mean?" 

Daena sighed, looking down at her feet. "It means that as soon as I finish my mourning, the Queen will try and marry me off to a lord of her choosing. She will whisper in my Uncle's ear, just like her father did. She'll try and convince him it's for my own good."

"I would sooner jump into Vermithor's mouth and let myself get eaten alive than let her control my life."

Harwin smirked. He knew she would do it. 

"There is only one course of action I can take." She said, turning to face him.

"And that is?"

"I need to find a husband, by myself."

Harwin's heart skipped a beat at the mention of her marriage. It would be a lie to say he hasn't fantasized about marrying Daena, or at least offering himself as a candidate for her hand. He never verbalized those dreams because he never thought himself worthy of her hand, let alone her love. 

"He will be one lucky man, whoever he is." He whispered, looking at a rose bush in the distance. 

"Yes, yes he will be." She said pointedly while looking at him. She grabbed his hand once she realized he wouldn't look at her. 

"...Princess?" Harwin uttered. He was overwhelmed by the feeling of her warm hands wrapped around his. 

"Harwin..." She called teasingly. A wide smile was on her face, a glitter of determination in her eyes. 

"You don't mean-"

"You, silly. I'm talking about you. Marry me, Harwin."

He felt like somebody punched him right in the gut, his lungs begging for air. His heart drummed wildly in his chest as he processed her words. Daena Targaryen, daughter of the Rogue Prince, rider of Vermithor, the most beautiful woman he has ever seen, was asking him for his hand in marriage. 

"I'm not worthy of you." 

Daena did not expect those words to come out of his mouth. Why would he think that?

"Why would you say such a thing?" She asked more harshly than she wanted. 

He stayed silent. 

"If not you, then who? Who is worthy of my love if not you, my brave knight?" She inquired, her voice softer.

"I-"

"Do you not feel the same way? You...you don't love me?" She finally asked, cutting to the heart of the problem. Her voice cracked, tears welling in her eyes. This was the first time they had a conversation about what they were to each other. 

Harwin took note of the uncertainty in her voice and the fear in her eyes; fear that perhaps, she was wrong and he never truly loved her. He needed to put her mind at ease.

He got down on one knee and held her hands.

"There are no words in any language on this earth to describe how I feel about you, how much I adore you. You have...bewitched my heart, body, and soul. Even in my dreams, I could not escape you. Countless nights I have spent thinking about you, praying to every god imaginable, and thanking them that I get to spend my life serving you -  my darling Princess, the one who holds my heart.

If you told me right now to fall on my sword, I would. If you told me to throw myself off the Wall, I would. I would kill for you. I would die for you. I would follow you to the ends of the earth. If you banished me and told me to leave your side, I would if it meant you were happy. Gods, I- I never thought this day would come but, will you marry me and be my lawful wife?"

~

She couldn't believe her ears. Or her eyes. She was beyond herself, to say the least.

"Daena?"

Her mouth was dry and her tongue twisted. His words struck a chord in her heart and she felt like it would burst out of her chest from how loudly it was beating. Tears blurred her vision and she could feel his calloused hand wiping them off her face. 

"No tears, my love. This is a happy occasion, is it not?"

She only nodded, not trusting her voice. More tears ran down her face as realization of the situation set in her mind. Harwin loved her. He loved her. He asked her to be his wife. 

"Come here, beautiful." He said as he pulled her onto his lap. She placed her head on his shoulder, the cold metal of his armor helped calm her down. He brushed his fingers through her silver tresses. He could hear her sniffing and her body shook slightly as she held onto his body tightly. 

"Harwin?"

"Yes, Princess?" He asked, looking down at her. 

"I love you." She whispered, a little pout on her pink lips. 

"I love you too." He whispered back, kissing her softly. 

They sat in silence for a while, holding each other and taking in the scent of wild roses. Little birds chirped high above them and the wind whistled. They stayed there until the sun went down and the moon showed its silver face.

Taglist: @ateliefloresdaprimavera

[the-kingshound]

Gwyar in tall Hounds clothes. thats it thats the tweet.

(specifically maybe the Hound putting their big cloak around Gwyar to keep them warm and cozy... or maybe Gwyar wearing one of MCs shirts after some bedroom exercise 👀)

Omg Gwyar wrapped in MC'd cloak is so cute... also considering servants have cloaks of a lesser quality than the Consort, so MC's is warmer and feels so comforting. Good luck getting the cloak back, Gwyar will do the puppy eyes if MC tries to take it off of them.

Gwyar cuddling naked to MC after some time together, then getting up warly and wearing MC's shirt (as a dress, given the size) because it both comforts them and, let's be honest, they will innocently want to see MC's reaction to the view

[somedayillbepeterpan]

“You need to stop pacing, Colin. You’ll end up too sweaty before the ceremony even starts. Are you worried your bride will leave you at the altar?”

Colin stopped in his tracks. “Don’t even joke about that Anthony.” He doesn't think Pen would. But he did make her wait for him for 10 years and even though she had repeatedly said he doesn’t need to give penance, the knowledge still stung him sometimes.

--

Finally got this up. My brain is so fried from my new work but I'm happy that I'm still able to write 🥰

Comments are welcome but please be kind.

[neroversal]

It's no secret that both Toby and Jack are becoming fast friends, however, it's not like the two have outwardly said anything about it. Even so, seeing the two interact is an interesting display.

Other another note, Toby is usually the one who strings Jack along, showing him something new or taking him out of his room.

Or 4 times Toby shows Jack something new and 1 time Jack teaches something to Toby in turn as well as 5 times the other pasta notice something is up with their fellow pasta's.

[valiantlyjollynightmare]

five times they didn’t take a polaroid (and one time someone else took one)

my contributions to @lovesquarefanbook :D Rating: G Ao3 Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Realtionships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir / Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug Tags: five time, polaroids, getting together, aged up, prom, wedding, future kids, fluff, FLUFF ALL AROUND, inspired by music, marriage proposal, slow dancing, pre-reveal, post-reveal, prpr Number of Words: 4635 Summary: Snapshots of Adrien and Marinette's love story as they grow up - and always, always more in love Read on ao3

Author Notes: This was written for the Happily Ever After Zine, and I have some amazing memories tied to it. More than half of it was written on a bench in the park in front of my dorm building and like. The vibe alone still gives me life.

For maximum enjoyment, check out these songs: The Good Old Days - Macklemore (ft. Kesha) Hymn for the Weekend - Coldplay Queen of Hearts - We The Kings Best Day of My Life - The American Authors Let's Get Married - Bleachers Praf de stele - Vița de vie Fireflies - Owl City Which you can also find in this Spotify Playlist

1. The Good Old Days

When Adrien gives her his present, he’s positively beaming, and his excitement is contagious. His joy translates into curiosity for Marinette, and as she asks if it’s okay to open his present on the spot, he gets even more excited.

It’s not a big box, and the packaging is clumsily done. She loves it all the more. But however much she tries, she still has to tear it to get to what’s inside.

“A couple months back I heard you say that you hate taking pictures because you always drop your phone,” he says at the same time as she finally looks inside.

A camera. And boxes upon boxes of film.

“Now you have something you can’t drop as easily,” he continues.

Marinette can only raise her eyes and gape at him.

He’s positively glowing.

Somehow, she musters some words, looking at the camera one second and him the next. “But this is a Polaroid,” she says in lieu of a proper response. It’s expensive, it’s too much, it’s perfect. “With tons of film!”

He chuckles. And winks. “Go wild!”

“But this must’ve cost you a fortune!”

“Not really,” he says, but he must see the doubt in her eyes.

He leans forward and puts his hands on her shoulders, hitting her with a proud grin. He’s not even trying to hide how pleased with himself he is.

“You deserve so much more! This is just a small present and I hope you like it.”

The last thing she’d want is to make him feel like she doesn’t like his present, but it’s a weird feeling. He might be saying it’s not much, but it doesn’t feel like it.

“I love it!” she sputters her response, mind almost as blank as all the film in the box. “But wow, it feels like a lot.”

Adrien takes his hands off her shoulders, clasping them behind his back and rocking back on his heels.

She misses the warmth of his closeness but at least she can breathe a bit more normally.

“How about this,” he starts again, changing tactics. His expression is thoughtful but there’s still that note of excitement that hasn’t left his eyes. “Since I got yours, I’ve been thinking about getting one for myself too. How about I do that and we become Polaroid buddies?”

On the one hand, she doesn’t want him to spend even more money on her. Can it even be considered spending money on her?

But on the other, she likes the idea of sharing this little thing with him. She imagines them going on photo-taking dates. Being silly, and serious, and artistically invested in the littlest of things—together. And it’s her birthday. She’s allowed to be selfish. Especially when he seems so happy at the idea.

So she gives a tentative nod—and his face lights up again.

“I hope you’ll have so much fun with it!” he says, beaming at her.

It’s her turn to wink at him. “We’ll have fun together.”

“You don’t have to wait until I get mine to start taking photos with yours, though!”

She hums, bringing the camera out of the box to inspect it. She has no idea what to do with it, but she still points it at him.

“I can do this, then?” she asks, smirking as she mimics snapping a photo.

His face takes on the most precious expression—so betrayed, that she can’t help a laugh.

Still chuckling, she puts the camera back in the box not noticing Adrien taking out his phone. The snap of a photo brings her back to reality, and he grins at her, quickly switching off his phone again.

“You won’t even show me?” she asks, raising an eyebrow at him, while trying to sneak a glance at the dark screen.

“Nope, mine now.”

“Then I’ll just have to surprise you with a picture too.”

He lifts a shoulder in a careless half-shrug, but his eyes twinkle and his smile is wide. “I guess it’s on, then.”

Two days later, his chat bubble pops up with three new messages, fired all at once.

He bought his own Polaroid—the exact same model as hers. And Marinette has a photo-date to overthink, scheduled for the next day.

2. Hymn for the Weekend

The déjà vu hits her like thunder and lightning: just a quick flash, but strong—and echoing.

It’s nothing unusual. Just her and Chat Noir at the end of their patrol. The sun is casting him in bronze and gold while the slight summer breeze is turning the moment into something ethereal.

After months of photo-dates, it’s muscle memory, really.

She takes her yoyo, turns it to him, and snaps a picture of his profile in all its glory.

He looks like a snippet of a dream that leaves Ladybug still watching the picture of him even after he turns curious eyes to her.

An eyebrow raised, a corner of his lips quirked up in the beginning of a smile.

She snaps another quick photo.

“You reminded me of a friend right there,” she says, fighting the pull of the picture and reluctantly taking her eyes off of it. Did he remind her of Adrien only after she took the picture? Did she take the picture because he reminded her of Adrien in the first place?

“How so?” he asks, raising his second eyebrow as he turns to her properly.

He makes an exaggerated sound, groaning like an old man as he pulls his legs under him and settles into a more comfortable position.

“I have this friend…” she starts, not quite knowing how to continue.

They take photos together, but it’s more than that. They go on dates, but they’re not quite dates. They spend too much time in front of Adrien’s car talking about the school day and their future plans, and it’s nothing and everything all at once.

She settles on, “We’ve been going around the city to snap pictures for a couple of months now.”

Chat Noir’s face brightens with every word, somehow.

“I didn’t know you were into photography, M’lady!”

“Yeah, I never expected to like it so much,” she admits, opening the gallery on her yoyo. The two pictures of Chat Noir greet her right at the top of her list, innocent and condemning all at once.

She’d been resisting the shy urge to take pictures with her yoyo. It’s no fun if she can’t show them to anyone. But every now and then, every time she sees a building covered in green, or an old couple holding hands, or kids being kids—every time she sees a special moment, she feels the urge to immortalize it in shiny paper and pin it in the album she’d been building.

But the most special of moments are the ones she and Adrien had been competing over—the ones only they are privy to. Sweet little smiles, sunbeams, leaves dusting their shoulders with light; a secret they’re not even aware of and which the other somehow manages to capture.

She still has pictures she hasn’t shown him, all arranged carefully in an album of their own, decorated with washi tape, and fancy markers, and little illustrations she hopes will make Adrien’s day when she finally gives the completed album to him.

And in those two pictures—in those two pictures Chat Noir is Adrien. Lost in thought and ethereally beautiful.

“I’ve been taking a lot of photos recently too,” he says, leaning forward to take a peek at her gallery.

She resists the urge to shy away and reluctantly hands him the yoyo.

“Promising profile pictures, right here,” she says, trying to change the subject. She wants to share every detail with him, yet she wants to hide away those two pictures and put them in a special frame fitting for how precious they feel.

She doesn’t really understand why they feel precious.

“And replace the masterpiece I already have?”

She shakes her head, hoping he thinks it’s a response to the meme he’s had as a profile picture ever since he’d made a Twitter account, but she’s just trying to shake off the feeling that there’s something she’s missing.

The habit seeps into their hero lives, tens of new pictures appearing on her yoyo and his baton.

Two months later she finally finds out what she was missing.

She prints out those two first photos.

One, she adds to Adrien’s album with a smile and a mischievous glint in her eyes. The other, she keeps to herself, to pin in a corner of her corkboard.

3. Best Day of My Life

Chloé could not conceive the idea that they wouldn't have a movie-worthy prom at the end of high school.

Sometimes her stubbornness truly did wonders.

She wanted a prom, so she had a prom—held in her father’s hotel, barely any different than her last birthday party.

But the photo booth is new—set up nicely in a corner, a sparkly curtain as background and a table full of props right beside.

It’s the first thing Marinette notices when she enters the room with Alya, Nino and Adrien, eyes going back to it even as Alya leads them to their table.

Chloé is impatiently tapping her foot when they get there. Her shoes make the sound carry even over the music. It’s just background noise for the moment, only loud enough to cover up the emptiness.

“Took you long enough,” she says, slightly annoyed.

Marinette turns right in time to catch her rolling her eyes, so she quirks an eyebrow as she sets down her purse on the table. She meant to say something, but her mind chose to focus entirely on the way Adrien pulled a chair for her, instead.

She sits down and hopes her makeup hides the blush she feels rising to her face as Adrien pushes her chair and takes the seat next to her.

“We aren’t even late, no one else is here yet,” Nino says, taking off his blazer and rolling his sleeves.

“Well, you’re the organizers, you’re supposed to be here early.”

Marinette is quick to respond. “You hired an entire team to make sure this runs smoothly. You didn’t let us lift a finger for this.”

Not that it affects Chloé in the slightest. “You’re the organizer’s friends, you’re supposed to be here early.”

“You got bored and told me to hurry up,” Adrien finally speaks up, snorting, but Marinette has seen his excitement.

He could barely contain it.

If Chloé hadn’t called him, he would’ve showed up early anyway. Chloé only called an hour early. He’d shown up on Marinette’s balcony even earlier, catsuit dissolving into slacks and a navy button-up, sleeves rolled up his forearms and a tie hanging undone around his neck.

He made Marinette do the knot. Then started pestering her to dress up too.

Then Chloé called and she actually did start to dress up

“My point exactly.”

“Well, we hurried up,” Alya said, pouring herself a glass of water and watching Chloé over the brim. “What now?”

“Now you wonder at my competence and then we go take pictures.”

They laugh. Because it’s their prom, and it’s like in the movies, and it’s surreal. And it’s funny, it’s so funny, how they’re here and living a moment that’s supposed to be big, and important, and big.

It’s their moment.

And, well, isn’t it? They’re alone in an enormous ballroom, and their excitement charges the air like electricity before a storm.

Marinette takes a hold of the camera hanging from her neck and takes it off with a sigh, glancing at the photo booth. “This is useless isn’t it?”

It wasn’t a burden per se. But it was still bulky enough to be slightly inconvenient. And it was one more thing to keep an eye on all night.

“Of course not,”Adrien jumps in, taking it from her hands fast enough that she doesn’t have time to react.

They’ve been doing it long enough to know what’s going to happen next.

Marinette closes her eyes, but she’s smiling.

The camera shutters and a photo comes out with a whoosh that she’s all too familiar with.

Before the first people start showing up, they’ve already hit the photo booth three times. They have complete reign over the machine, and they can pick whatever props they want.

Marinette especially loves the set of photos where all of them are wearing wigs and laughing at each other instead of paying attention to the screen.

The night is less magical than she imagined, yet somehow more. Just in a different way. There’s laughter—a lot more than she’d expected. And dancing—a lot of jumping around rather than the slow dances she’d been hoping for. And there’s their group stuffing their faces with the Dupain-Chengs’ fantastic pastries that Chloé made sure wouldn’t be missing.

Then, there’s the waltz. It’s the epitome of what she’d dreamed of—and it’s not. It’s her, and Adrien, with absolutely no space between them, laughing the whole time, as Adrien looks at her like she’s the stars and the moon, and—is it really something new? Is it not how she looks at him as well?

She dares a spark of hope, but she’s too busy enjoying the moment—being content—to really think about it or be disappointed that nothing really happens. There’s no dip and kiss at the end, there’s no dramatic confession following their clumsy attempt at being dramatic dancers.

The night is young until it isn’t, and when they go for a final round of photos after most students have already left it’s just their group again. Marinette’s feet hurt, and her cheeks hurt, but she’s happy.

She picks up a headband with antennae on top and hands Adrien one with cat ears—a subtle nod at everything they’re hiding, just for them to see and remember.

He’s holding a thin stick with a message to his chest, so close to him, she can’t see what it’s written on it, but she smiles. He returns the smile as he takes the prop from her and puts it on his head with a mischievous excitedness she simply loves.

She sets up the machine, and takes a quick look at Adrien on the screen. The countdown has already started, but he’s not looking at her, he’s looking at the message with a thoughtful expression.

She doesn't think much of it, until she’s next to him, eyes still glued to the screen, and the message is turned around for her to finally see.

It’s reversed, on the screen. Seen in the mirror. But she could read those words upside down and in a hundred languages and still know what they mean.

The count is down to one. She hears the snap of the photo, but everything is already lost to her. It’s only Adrien and the Comic Sans “I love you” he holds with a nervous expression, and his eyes—on her, only ever on her.

That first photo catches her with an open mouth and wide eyes. The second, has Adrien handing her the message—clumsily, somehow still unsure, as if she hasn’t been dreaming of that for the past too many years. The third—the third shows her with her hands on his cheeks and their eyes locked together carrying a conversation only they can understand.

And the last, gloriously big, bigger than all other three, with a fancy generic message at the bottom to remind them it’s from their prom and nowhere else—the last shows them finally, finally kissing.

4. Let’s Get Married

There are icy webs covering the locks on Pont des Arts, and stray snowflakes lingering on them when the wind doesn’t blow.

Adrien catches a picture of her looking at one before she even has the time to register what he’s doing.

His laughter fills the air with warmth when she raises her polaroid to take one of him as well.

He puts the photos safely in a bag he always carries for these dates and goes to give her a quick peck on the cheek.

The kiss was only half an excuse to get close enough to ask quietly, “Is he still there?”

A quick glance over his shoulder gives her the answer. He is. He’s barely trying to be sneaky anymore.

The man has been following them for the better part of their date—clumsily, probably a beginner, still eager for the easy money that came with intruding in a celebrity’s personal life.

After they first noticed him, they tried ignoring him.They’re not doing anything interesting, just taking photos the same way they do every month on photo-dates which have long since become tradition. But the man is persistent.

So Marinette nods and Adrien catches her hand in his with a resigned sigh. “I’m starting to doubt he’ll get bored of us.”

“You’d think he would after watching two people walk around and take pictures of random things for an hour.”

He pouts at her. “I only took pictures of you! Please, give me some credit.”

“Always, Chaton. But you should really slow down or we’ll need to buy another album before spring is even here.”

“Can’t help it when you’re the most beautiful person to walk the earth,” he says, squeezing her hand and going for a quick peck.

Eyes half lidded, she doesn’t give up. “You see me everyday.”

“And every day I thank God for that.”

The kiss they share is a proper one this time, sweet and warm, though still much too quick. For a second, they’re silent after.

“I can't wait until you’re the first thing I see in the morning,” Adrien finally says.

She can’t either, but she can’t help teasing him either way. “Bleary eyes, and morning breath, and all?”

“And messy hair and the most gorgeous eyes, yes,” he responds, giving her a wink.

She sees the moment he gets the idea. He squints the slightest bit as his eyes gleam with more mischievousness rather than love and blissfulness.

“I think I know how to deal with our stalker.”

“He does not need to know we’re moving in together.”

He laughs, because it’s absurd but because it’s still a bit surreal too. They’re doing it. They’re moving in together.

“I mean, that would work too,” he says, still chuckling. “But that’s not what I had in mind.”

She quirks an eyebrow. There’s an extremely simple solution to this, and she still feels obligated to say it—just for the sake of it, really.

“We could just continue our walk, get into the bakery like we planned and get it over with quietly.”

But.

“But where’s the fun in that, princess.”

After all, birds of a feather flock together.

So she moves her head with a curious little shake and waits for him to voice his idea. He doesn’t disappoint.

“We could give them the real big news.”

She squints her eyes. “Not even all of our friends know yet.”

“We better get around to telling everyone faster, then. The photos would take at least until tomorrow to come out though.”

And then, with his most Chat Noir smirk, he lands the killing blow. “I can make it look like an accident.”

It’s her turn to laugh.

“I’m not even wearing gloves, he might have already seen the ring.”

“I think he needs to be hand-held into taking his precious picture,” he says, raising her left hand ever so slightly and asking for permission with his eyes.

She can’t help the giddy smile on her face—she’s been wearing it almost constantly for the entire two days they’ve been engaged.

Marinette briefly entertains the idea of being responsible, but she’s too happy to think rationally. She wants to shout her happiness to the whole world, she wants to talk about his love for hours on end, she wants everyone to know, and even though they’d discussed keeping their engagement a secret, they knew they couldn’t escape it getting out with how much people still fawned over Adrien.

So she lets him raise her hand further, bringing it to his lips in a cheeky kiss that still fills her with all the warmth in the world.

Maybe the paparazzo misses that too, but they stop paying attention to him, and in the twenty minutes left until they’re back to her house, they change the subject altogether. Talking about their future wedding is much better after all.

And when, properly zoomed in and dramatically showcased, the picture of Adrien kissing her hand—her ring—makes the front page of a gossip rag the very next day, their wedding becomes the talk of a lot more people.

5. Stardust

As the confetti explodes in the air around them and the fireworks in the cake light up their faces, Marinette feels so overwhelmed with happiness she could cry.

After a year of talking, and planning, and preparing, she and Adrien are married.

Adrien’s eyes are already on her when she turns her head to him, his gaze already soft and even more loving than usual. The fireworks bring to life a spark that was always there but which now everyone can see, not just him, not just her.

Their glasses clink as they toast, and the people cheer.

They’re on top of the world.

She’s having the time of her life.

Though her feet ache, Marinette is still reluctant to take a break and just sit down.

She goes outside instead, and even though she’s not exactly inconspicuous, she’s still able to steal a moment for herself on the furthest edge of the pool outside of their venue.

She watches the fairy lights hanging above, glimmering in the still water below.

The summer night is still warm, but there are few people enjoying it. Most of the guests that haven’t left for the night yet are inside, taking advantage of the remaining moments of music and fun.

The night is beautiful, but the end of the party is looming in the calmer atmosphere and the music that only faintly reaches outside anymore.

Arms crossed lightly to her chest and eyes focused on the lights, she doesn’t notice Adrien until he gives himself away.

The telltale click of his old Polaroid going off startles her—and has her smiling.

“You’re a sight to behold, My Lady,” he says, catching the photo coming out of the camera with practiced ease and slipping it into his vest’s pocket before it even starts showing.

His sleeves are rolled up his forearms and his tie has long since been abandoned on the back of his chair. He’s glorious.

“That’s the pot calling the kettle back, Chaton.”

She lifts up the camera hanging from his neck and turns to put it away on a lounge chair nearby.

They gravitate towards each other like they always do, her arms around his neck and his around her waist the second she’s back, all the space between them lost as they embrace.

The music inside is a boppy tune from before they were even born, but it’s music, and that’s all Adrien needs to start swaying gently, with small movements of his feet that Marinette has no trouble following despite her tiredness.

They’re in their own little bubble, and Marinette wouldn’t change it for the world.

“Tired, Bugaboo?” he asks after a minute or two of rocking away in silence.

Her only response is a neutral ‘mm’, but she tears herself away from him to see him better.

The proximity makes her catch a stray sparkle in his hair and whatever she wants to say is forgotten as she focuses on that instead.

“There’s confetti in your hair,” she realizes with a chuckle.

“There is?”

She hums a confirmation, but doesn’t make any move to take it away, and neither does he. “Stardust,” she says, eyes drifting back to his.

So the confetti stays, and they keep swaying, gentle smile brightening his face more than the fairy lights.

“Maybe we should go back in,” he says after a while.

She only gets back closer and grumbles, “Too tired.”

But he picks her up with years of practice in sweeping her off her feet, and startles a squeak out of her—and a giggle.

“People will think we’ve left.”

“People can see to their dances and leave us alone for a second,” she mumbles, arms tightening around his neck, but as he starts walking back towards the venue, she gets a better idea.

Tearing herself away from his warmth for the slightest bit, she finds the confetti and takes it away. “Stardust privileges revoked,” she says, trying to tease him.

She could never beat the master.

“Only if you left me,” he whispers, the corner of his mouth going up. And rubbing his nose to hers, he puts her back down.

Later that week, Alya sends Marinette a picture with no context and no caption. It shows her beside the pool, but in the background, Adrien is carrying Marinette, faces close together and noses touching.

+1. Fireflies

Marinette looks at the muffins on the cupboard with a frown and a hand on her hip.

She’d overestimated how much vanilla they had in their kitchen.

She calls for Adrien, hoping he’d go on a shopping trip as impromptu as her baking, but there’s no response.

It doesn’t take her long to find him, but the sight she’s met with stuns her.

There are pictures everywhere, scattered on the floor and in open albums thrown carelessly around Hugo’s room, with Adrien, Hugo and Emma in the middle of their mess, completely absorbed by the stories in front of them.

Their old cameras are there too—on Hugo’s desk, proud, but dusty. It’s been so long since she’s seen them—since they’d touched them.

She couldn't even remember when they’d put them in the attic—she couldn’t even imagine what prompted Adrien to bring them down.

Her family beckon her to them when they notice her, and she decides her muffins can wait.

The realization that they let go of this hobby is bitter. They used to go out regularly for photo dates, they have so many photos they don’t even know what to do with all of them, the memories are sweet.

There are even still unopened boxes of film beside them—all expired.

As she goes back to the kitchen with Adrien in tow, she gives voice to her thoughts; the idea of buying more film and picking their polaroids up again is thrown around, although more as an abstract thing.

But soon enough, as she’s covering the muffins in whipped cream instead of the vanilla neither of them felt like buying, and Adrien stealing muffins like there’s no tomorrow, the telltale shutter of a polaroid makes them realize how much they’ve truly missed it.

Hugo, ever the spitting image of his mother, stands there with the camera in hand and his father’s grin on his face, his sister just a step behind him with the other Polaroid in tow.

“I wanted to see if they’re still working,” he says, and they’re curious too.

They fill the time needed until the photo finally shows with muffin tasting and banter, but Marinette can’t help stealing glances at the film far too often.

The final picture is tinted yellow and has black stains around the upper edges. But there they are, her and Adrien in all their glory, being as in love as they’d been as kids.

Over her shoulder, Adrien lets out a chuckle.

The next day he’s home with a bunch of new boxes of film and an excited grin on his lips.

[kitamars]

lovey dovey (alt ver of the first one under the cut!)

[lucabyte]

Taking pride in One's own appearance.

[demigods-posts]

i have this headcanon that percy and annabeth are raging accidental flirts. but not with each other. like. they'll go to the coffee shop on fifteenth street. and compliment the barista on his hair and clothes and tip really well. but only for him. and they have no idea this boy is absolutely swooning over them. or. each time they to go the bakery downtown. they take the time to converse with the waitress at the counter as they eat her homemade muffins. and are incredibly vocal about how she's their favorite server. and how much they enjoy seeing her. and suddenly they're the only two customers that can get her services for free. except, they just think she's like that with everyone.

[buqbite]

loved the 2.3 scene where they bickered like petty little kids

[motherearthlovesus]

staying at theo nott’s over the summer

you’ve been staying at theo’s parents’ estate over the summer holidays for a few weeks now, it’s a huge house with not enough people to fill it. you don’t mind though since it gives you plenty of peace and privacy with your boyfriend. you knew he was rich but you had never known how rich until you arrived here. everyday had been almost the exact same routine, not that it bothered you. this was the most relaxed you’d been all year. the mornings were quiet and often spent picking fruit in their orchard or picking out the days book & matching bikini. his parents were gone most of the time, leaving theo cocky enough to try and fuck you in every corner of the house, inside and out. the tennis court, the pool, the couch, the sauna, the kitchen, the terrace, the garden and the kitchen. while you admired his (constant) efforts, all you could really muster up the energy to do was sunbathe by the pool with pansy. it was supposed to be your holiday too after all. the italian sun was giving you a gorgeous golden glow that made theo drool all over his dinner each night- which, luckily, his parents were too self-absorbed to ever notice. most nights after dessert you and theo go out to the pool house, where pansy and draco were staying, to share a joint or two. you giggle and laugh for hours into the night with smoke hanging thickly in the still summer air, until theo starts to see your red eyes droop - that’s when he knows it’s time to call it a night. he walks with you, hand in hand, up to the bedroom you’ve been sharing. he tucks you in, kisses you on the forehead and walks to the bathroom to brush his teeth before bed. as he turns the tap on, the sound of steadily flowing water sends you off to a peaceful sleep, content to do it all again tomorrow.

🌞🍸🍊🌊 (moodboard link)

[ihave-atummyache]

is it here?

Changbin Blurb/imagine

short drabble

sfw!! (i was giggling and kicking my feet writing this)

im not sure how many words but not many!!

this is 100000% inspired by a tweet i just saw <3

“Binnie, let me see your phone,” you lock your own phone and he grabs his off the table, passing it to you, not even pretending to glance away from his laptop.

“What are you looking for?” Your boyfriend ponders, clicking away on his computer. You had been scrolling on your phone quietly for a while and he was wondering what you were doing.

“I ordered something online and I can’t find the confirmation email. I might have accidentally put your phone number,” you reply and type the word “order confirmation” into his search bar.

You click the first email that comes up and your eyes widen and you let out a gasp when you realize what it is. This immediately catches your boyfriend’s attention, especially when he sees the blush rush up your neck and the soft smile on your face.

“What? What happened?” He leans back in the couch and glances over at the screen of his phone.

There, you both stare at the confirmation email for the engagement ring that he had ordered. You quickly swipe out of the email and scroll, finding the email you’re looking for and forwarding it to yourself.

You’re speechless and, to your surprise, so is Changbin. You swallow thickly and lock his phone, placing it on the couch between the two of you.

Neither you nor Changbin say anything for a few minutes. He clears his throat and starts typing on his computer again and you unlock your phone once more but you can’t even pretend to be focused on anything on your screen.

Before you know it, a quiet giggle escapes your lips and you bite your lip to try to suppress it. Your boyfriend hears you, his cute giggle following yours and you can’t help but laugh again.

The two of you continue to giggle, falling back on the couch and leaning into each other.

“What are you giggling at?” you tease, interlacing your fingers with his and resting your head on his shoulder.

“What are you giggling at?” he rebuttals and you let out another quick giggle before taking a breath and calming down enough to speak.

“You know why I’m giggling,” you reply and turn towards your boyfriend, who was already looking at you, “Is it here?” you add on, a small smile covering both of your faces. He already knows exactly what you’re asking about.

He chuckles once more before nodding his head at you, “It is,” he confirms and a huge grin covers your face.

“Is it hidden?” You ask, sitting up and grabbing the laptop off his lap. You sit it on the coffee table before swinging your leg over his lap and straddling him.

“It is,” he repeats himself, giving you nothing to work with. Your boyfriend (soon to be fiancée, apparently) wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him. You wrap your arms around his neck and lean forward, pressing a kiss to his lips.

“Wanna play hot or cold?” You offer and he immediately shakes his head at you before the two of you erupt into more giddy giggles.

[marypsue]

Man, it's cool and all if you see a metaphor for marginalisation in the monstrous, and if you want the power fantasy of 'what if you could just eat anybody who threatened you/pissed you off'. Me too.

However, as soon as you start saying 'no, these monsters are a 1:1 on Specific Marginalised Group, and you have to treat them in the fiction like they are directly representative of real human members of the marginalised group', BUT you also, in the fiction, make them hurt/kill/eat humans? And then try to shame me, your audience, for noticing or engaging with the bit where they kill people, because you made them directly representative of a real-world marginalised group? You have lost me, and also, I think, the plot.

[laiiaaa]

gushing over bf Carmy and he doesn’t even know how sexy he isssss :(((

Carmen—finally—has off from work tonight. Which means it’ll be relaxing for once in the past couple weeks, having time spent with you and you alone, cuddling over a movie, kissing between soft conversations, half-attentive before he’ll finally scoop you up and take you to bed.

But that’s for later.

Right now, though, he emerges in the living room ready for the movie you’d asked him to watch with you. You perk up at his entry and turn around to lean against the back of the couch, caught in a kiss before he starts telling you…well, you can’t seem to keep up.

All that’s on your mind is Carmy Carmy Carmy, so much so that whatever he’s saying doesn’t process, a wave of awe clouding your mind. You get lost in his image for a broad moment, doing little else other than admiring the stretch of his tee against his chest and biceps that tug the fabric just right, the sinew of his forearms tensing as he grips the back of the couch; his curls freshly washed hours earlier, still styled loosely before stressed bouts straighten them, stragglers suspended by his brow bone that charming way you remember when you first met; gray sweats handing loose on his hips, a little less so at the front to make you drool. He looks good, so so painfully good, and he doesn’t even know it. He’s not even trying.

“You listenin’, baby?” You only hear him when he tilts your chin up with his index and thumb—gently, to guide your attention back. “Baby?”

And your head follows, but your eyes still linger along his tensed forearms before they finally acknowledge his words and meet his gaze. “Hm?”

He smiles softly. “Spacin’ out, huh?”

“Sorry—” You bite at your lip. “You’re just so handsome,” you tell him as you look your arms around his neck. “It’s distracting.”

He starts to blush. “Yeah, okay.” But his hands smooth down your back anyway, pausing along the curve of your ass before an adoring squeeze.

“I’m serious, Carmy,” you coo, tugging him down for another kiss and teasing your nails along the nape of his neck. “Most handsome man ever.” One hand cups his jaw before another peck. “And the sweetest,” another smooch to his cheek, “and the prettiest,” and the other side, “and the sexiest,” again to his temple—

“Okay, baby,” he starts, flushed to his neck, but you beat him to the punch—

“And the best boyfriend ever,” you quip, extra sharp before you soothe it with a languid kiss to his lips, smiling against him as his hands run along your spine, slowing you down to sweet kisses until your forehead meets his. “You’re just the best, Bear.” And another, because you can’t help yourself when he looks like this. “So kind, the best chef ever, and so strong…” You bring your hands to paw at his arms again, “So so handsome, and you’re all mine—”

He scoffs, trying to bite back that gush of his heart, that rush of blood down south that has him pressed into the couch. “I think I get it, baby.” Gentle smooch to your forehead. “Thank you.”

You groan and sit on your heels, dragging your hands down his chest, to his middle, then closer to his waistband. Looking up at him with doe eyes and plush pout, you ask, “Take me to bed, Carmy…”

He huffs. “Thought we were watchin’ a movie tonight?”

“Want you t’fuck me instead…” Teasing a little lower, your fingertips graze behind the fabric. “Please?”

And if he thought he was hiding it before, he’s really giving himself away now: head lolling forward with a heady sigh, weight leaning into the couch as his blush spreads to his neck; mind swirling at the thought of you touching him, whining his name some more, pleading with that same pout as he’s making you come beneath him.

In no time he’s bent over to scoop you up from the couch, your giggles ringing in his ear while he carries you to the bedroom.

What, did you expect him to say no to you asking him so sweetly? The movie can wait. It’s your fault for getting him all worked up, anyway.

[beangfrisky]

round two

singledad!atsumu invites you to join him and his daughter for a tour of your new town when you're finally settled in next door. he and his baby girl sat down the night before and made a game plan of what all to do in crayons together.

singledad!atsumu knocks on your door with a coffee in hand just for you. he even remembered you like your lattes extra sweet which you only mentioned once in your first conversation over a week ago.

singledad!atsumu opens the passenger side door for you as his daughter leans up from the back seat to show you the map of town she drew. while he drives you hold out the crayon drawing in front of you and pretend to direct atsumu using your new map.

singledad!atsumu spends most of the day shooting not so sneaky glances your way. the stop of the tour involving ice cream was especially hard for him to keep his gaze away from your lips.

singledad!atsumu drops you off at your doorstep with a shopping bag full of touristy souvenirs and gifts from your day of adventure. with his daughter holding one hand, he uses his other to hold your jaw still as he leans in for a quick kiss on the cheek.

the blush he earned is more than enough to keep the smile on his face for a few days.

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