#he picks that flower with utmost care

[cinderedrose]

Even a rebuilt assasin droid has the chance of personhood (featuring Wraith, a rebuilt HK24 unit from the mandalorian wars, giving his friend a flower)

[starsofang]

simon was the only one who could understand you. of course, he understood your interests and your distastes, but he was the only one who could understand you.

on days where you couldn’t get out of bed, couldn’t shower, couldn’t live, simon was the one who understood. he’d lay in bed with you, bathe with you, even when he barely fit in the tub and would have to maneuver his legs in an uncomfortable position to fit the both of you.

when the world was against you, simon stood tall by your side.

when you didn’t have it in you anymore to keep on going, simon gave you a second chance.

he knew how you felt. how when things got bad again, nobody was there to pick you back up, to tell you things will be okay, to hug you. simon never had that for himself, so when he met you, a shattered reflection of himself, he provided you with what he didn’t have.

unconditional love. undying affection. admiration on days where you felt you didn’t deserve it. everything he didn’t get before you, he gave you twice as much.

simon glued back your broke pieces with the utmost care. and when you broke again, he’d do it all over.

simon loved you for you. he loved every fragment that cracked along the way. loved you on days where you didn’t love yourself, and loved you on days where you felt like you were on top of the world.

where most people saw an ugly flower, shriveling up into rotted petals, he saw the garden of eden blossoming right before his eyes. he watered every intricate flowers, providing you with warm rays of sunshine in order to assure you would grow.

he took his time with you. he remained patient, because love always is. after all, you can’t bloom a garden without the occasional parasite or weed, and simon would get on hands and knees, fingers in the dirt if it meant tending to you.

[sanguineterrain]

Hey! Can I request a Clark x reader where they're dating but reader doesn't know Clark is superman. And then superman interacts with them for whatever reason and is flirty bc that's his person!!! But reader is like ☝️ hey buddy back off. I'm HAPPILY taken

this is such a cute request!!!! Argh!!!!

clark kent/superman x gn!reader. fluff, brief danger but r is okay. superman flirting with you but he's dating you? he's just a goober. i lub him <3 PLEASE feel free to imagine maws!clark. I feel like this is very himcore 🥰

****

Being a florist in Metropolis is good work. Lots of people still buy flowers, which is great. Many actually buy bouquets for Superman and leave them on display as support. Poppies, yellow tulips, and cornflowers. They're one of your favorite arrangements.

The downside to being a florist in Metropolis, however, is that on occasion, your flower display ends up the target of a killer robot.

You're not sure why that is. Mostly, you wish people would stop building killer robots.

You've gone outside to see what the commotion is about when you're grabbed by a metal claw. It squeezes hard, almost cutting off your air. You squirm in terror as the robot stomps down Main Street, crushing cars and asphalt in its wake.

"Help!" you scream when you catch your breath, and the robot squeezes you harder.

A dizzying blur of red, yellow, and blue zips past you. You think of your flowers.

The blur cuts through the metal like nothing. The robot begins to collapse, twitching and groaning. Its metal creaks, grip loosening on your body.

You hardly fall before Superman is there, cradling you to his chest.

"I've got you," he says, tucking you close.

You look up at him, and he beams at you, like saving you from a killer robot has been the best part of his day.

Come to think of it, Superman came to your aid surprisingly fast, even for him.

And he holds you... intimately. Like you've known him for years. Your heart picks up.

"Uh," he says, cheeks flushed. "Are–are you okay?"

You smile politely, arms around his neck. "Yes, I'm fine. Thank you, Superman."

He nods, flying down the street. "Good. I'll get you back to your shop and clean up the flowers."

You tilt your head. "How do you know I'm a florist?"

Superman looks at you, blue eyes wide.

"Oh! I... uh, I've seen your arrangements all over the city. They're beautiful. I'd never forget that they belong to an equally beautiful face."

Goodness. If Superman is this forward with everyone he rescues, it's no wonder your flower arrangements are in high demand.

"I'm flattered," you begin, and Superman once again aims that grin with the power of a thousand suns at you. "But, respectfully, I'm very happily taken, so I would appreciate it if you'd keep this rescue professional."

Superman raises an eyebrow. To your surprise, he smiles wider.

"Oh, I'm sorry," he says. "I didn't realize you were taken. My sincerest apologies. I hope I didn't make you uncomfortable."

"No, it's alright. I'm honored, but you couldn't pull me away from my boyfriend even with your super strength."

Superman's cheeks turn pinker. He sets you down in front of your store with the utmost care, not letting go until you have your bearings. He takes a step back, rubbing his neck. The gesture makes your brain itch. You don't know why.

"Well, uh, he must've done something right if he's lucky enough to be with you."

"Luck has nothing to do with it," you say fiercely. You don't know why you're so indignant about defending Clark's reputation to Superman. It's not like Clark will ever hear about it.

"No?"

"Not at all. He's an incredible person, kind and smart and loving, and if anyone's lucky, it's me."

Superman makes an aborted gesture to take your hand, then redirects and awkwardly pats your arm instead. You squint at him. He quickly moves away.

"Ah. Sorry. Well, I doubt that. I bet you're equally spectacular."

"Oh. Thank you."

You primly take his hand and give it a good shake. Superman bows his head and laughs.

He takes a step back, eyes bright like you've just made his day.

"Well, I wish you the best with your boyfriend. I'm sorry for being so forward. I've seen your Superman bouquets; your reputation precedes you. I make it a point to know reputed people in Metropolis."

"I can't imagine I'm very high on that list," you say.

"Ah, you'd be surprised. Besides, I never forget a face."

Superman darts behind you and moves at neckbreaking speed to clean up your partially maimed flowers. In three seconds, it's returned to its former glory.

"Well, uh, I'll be seeing you," Superman says, hands clasped behind his back. "I mean, I hope not in a circumstance like this! Th-then again, when else would we see each other? Scratch that, I hope there's no reason for us to cross paths because that would mean you're in danger. Uh, but I don't mean that in a bad way! I just—"

You snort and reach over to take a yellow tulip from your display. You give it to Superman, who takes it like you've just handed him a newborn baby.

"I'm still taken," you say. "But you're very sweet, Superman. Take care, alright?"

"Yeah," he says, tucking the tulip into the strap of his cape. "Yes, you too. Goodbye!"

He soars away, the tulip like a star on his cape.

Superman is handsome and kind, no doubt. But he's certainly no Clark Kent.

[emmyrosee]

His foot taps anxiously against the floor of the flower shop, eyes glazing over the beautiful bouquets and vibrant colors that splash under the fluorescent lights that crackle above his head. The smell of so many flowers is getting into his head, powdery and sweet, but the nausea brewing inside of him is not budging.

He messed up. He knows that.

He also knows he relies on the bet that you’ll accept flowers every time he messes up, which while seldom, happens more than he still would like.

You deserve the utmost love and respect. And he can’t stand that sometimes, he feels like he can’t give it to you and has to hope flowers will be enough for your trust again, like a bandaid on a scraped knee.

After this, he’ll run to the bakery for a pastry, wrapped in a little box, waiting for you to enjoy it-

What is he thinking, countless gifts won’t make up for it, for all he’s done. You’ll never forgive him, each bouquet and each slice of cake when he messes up surely is only driving you away, and he cards a hand through his blonde hair as he has a small, teeny freak out in front of the display.

He looks to the old man next to him who easily picks out a bouquet of assorted flowers with a predominantly purple color story. The old man sniffs them, and smiles, before sighing happily. He turns to Atsumu with small nod, “think she’ll like ‘em?”

Atsumu tenses up before offering the old man a small chuckle, “sure is one of the prettiest bouquets in here,” he encourages, and the man hums as he looks around the boquete for any imperfections in the petals. “She’ll be lucky to have them from ya, yessir.”

The man smiles, “no, son; I’m lucky to have her.” He sighs dreamily, “there isn’t enough bouquets in the world to show her how much she means to me.”

Atsumu freezes. For some reason, unbeknownst to him, a lump forms into his throat at the man’s words. He tries to swallow it thickly, keep his emotions at bay before he wails to this strange man about all the ways he’s hurt you over the years and how always, he’s never been able to fully forgive himself despite you assuring that you do.

This argument would be no different.

Atsumu nods his head in understanding, “I think you might be in the same boat as me,” he says, wondering if this man too, is making up for a mistake he made. If this man is trying to repent, and the first way to do it is to bring her flowers, a symbol of a love he’s determined to keep blooming, keep alive, keep beautiful.

But maybe, just maybe, he’s not relying on the fact that flowers are an apology, perhaps they’re being purchased just because, just to make you smile.

Perhaps Atsumu should start doing that for you. Just something nice.

Something to look forward to.

The man chuckles once more; it’s raspy, like perchance he’s one to indulge in a cigarette when the craving arises, but it’s comforting, and for the first time in hours, Atsumu feels a little more at ease.

“At least we’re in the boat, my friend,” the man says. Atsumu swallows thickly once more, but he flashes the man a comforted smile.

“You’re right. We sure are, sir.”

The man bows at the blonde, “you take care of yourself,” he says simply, before coolly turning to make his way to the registers. Atsumu looks back at the boquetes and grabs one that reminds him of you; bright and pristine, like bubbles on a warm day, a warm blanket at night. Like the movie you can repeat by heart by now, but he’ll still watch with you like it’s the first time.

He smiles, sniffles and blinks the sting in his waterline, thrilled to be in the boat with you.

[lovelybluebirdie]

The astonishing failure of a simple plan

Astarion x f!Reader

Summary: Astarion tries to wrap his head around you, when a sudden tumult in camp occurs.

[AO3]

The concept of altruism had always been quite strange to Astarion.

Doing something solely for benefiting others, without one's own needs primarily in mind – how outrageously foolish. 

And yet, he caught himself considering the idea more often since he had met you. 

You, the soft-hearted soul who always seemed to stumble directly into the next best opportunity to solve the problems of complete strangers that would cross your way – gladly interfering with any sort of personal drama. 

Although you and the rest of your travel companions had been infected with a tadpole to the brain, leaving you in desperate need for a cure to this rather urgent condition, somehow you would always manage to save a child from getting gruesomely killed by harpies, pick a fight with a powerful hag to rescue some random woman you just met or annihilate an entire camp full of goblins to ensure safe travels for a bunch of Tieflings – without at least demanding a proper compensation for all your troubles. 

You just did those things, and it drove Astarion mad.  

Perhaps one of the reasons for your undeniable saviour complex were the recurring thoughts that plagued you. You had once explained it as particularly dark urges, the impulse to hurt and kill spreading its roots inside your brain, evolving into a yearn to act out the most gruesome visions one could imagine. Gloriously kill an innocent to bathe in their blood, crush a squirrel to death with your bare fists or rip off a stranger's hand in need of help – malicious ideas that would otherwise never cross your mind.

The origin of these unwanted desires were unknown to you, but you sensed that it had to be connected to your past somehow – a part of you that had yet to be completely revealed. Of course, you had sworn to give everything in your might to resist them. And luckily for the life of your travel companions, you were mostly able to succeed.

Regardless of these murderous tendencies coming with your affliction, you were still the kindest person Astarion had ever met. A contradiction in itself, and yet you were – well, you.

Lately, Astarion had caught himself just perceiving you. 

Taking in your soft expression as you were mindlessly humming a song to yourself, sitting barefoot by the river, hands elbow-deep in the cold water to wash your clothes, sticking this stupid little melody to his head for the rest of the day.

While resting at camp, he had watched you reading – one of your favourites, the lexicon of bird species in Faerûn – a terribly boring topic, but you seemed to indulge in the lengthy descriptions of a blue jay’s wingspan. You would fetch Astarion a caught smile between slowly turned pages, eyes half-closed, before eventually dozing off in the flickering light of the fire. He had barely been fast enough to catch the edges of your slipping book, saving it from landing in the dirt.

The other day, he noticed you carefully picking flowers from the road, acting like it was the most important task on your schedule. Later, you would sit in silence, brows furrowed in concentration and hands busy with knotting them into a beautiful headband. A gift for Karlach, since you had sensed that she hadn’t been too well on this particular day.

A sickeningly sweet gesture.

And yet, so typically you. Affectionate, always looking after your dearest companions.

He remembered the feeling of you casually squeezing his shoulder after an exhausting battle, the concerned look you would give him as you noticed that he had been injured, and how you insisted on treating his wounds with the utmost care, not leaving his side before you made sure his bleeding had entirely stopped.

There was the sensation of your fingers gently forming circles through his white curls, while he had buried his fangs deep inside your neck, greedily gulping down the blood you had been willingly offered to him. The quickening of your pulse, the little shivers your body would give away as he was feeding on you. 

Your thumb shyly placed against his brow, the tender movement as you traced his features. The sincerity in your voice as you described the outlines of his face to him, after he had shared with you that his lack of reflection had turned the image of his own appearance into a dark shape from his past. Profane vanity was all he had initially seeked from you that evening, listening to you calling him beautiful and stroking his ego, and yet there had been a certain intimacy resonating in that moment. You had described to him what the world would see when it looked at him – what you would see. 

Astarion groaned and pulled his blanket up to his chin, almost covering his bottom lip with the thin woollen fabric.

Gods, how you irritated him. 

How you had infested his mind with your nauseating goodness. 

When you first met, Astarion had decided that precisely this outstanding character trait of yours should be your undoing.

You offered an easy prey, he had thought to himself in a blissful glee, as he imagined all the ways in which he would bargain your trust. 

Luring and deceiving were practically moulded into him, therefore charming you appeared as easy as picking the lock on a broken chest. In order to survive under his former master Cazador, he had become an unwilling adept in these abilities. 

Astarion flinched as the memory of his ruthless tormentor reentered his mind. Cazador had turned him into a vampire spawn almost two centuries ago and made him his slave, forcing him to a life in complete darkness and made him use his body to bring more than thousands of victims to him.

In order to deceive you, Astarion had formed a rather simple plan: Seduce you, sleep with you, manipulate your feelings so you would never turn on him – old habits that cemented over the past centuries had kicked in.

Therefore, it should have been easy with you. Instinctive. Following a pattern of studied behaviour, throwing his best lines at you until you would breathe his name between tousled sheets - leaving your body aching for him and trusting him unconditionally.  

All he had to do was follow this nice little plan of his, deepening the selfish bond he aimed to create between the two of you in order to secure his safety. To get you on his side. 

It should have been nothing more than an insurance. A simple transaction, so to speak: His honeyed words for your protection. Performing an act, yourself delightfully unaware of your leading role in this little play of his.

Well, and what else could it ever be? After all, manipulating others in order to get something out of them was the only way he had ever known. 

And yet: with you, things had somewhat felt entirely different.  

At least, his plan had evidently borne fruit by now: Not only were you voluntarily offering your blood to help him with his cravings after he had revealed his past of being a vampire spawn, you had also sworn to help him finding out the meaning of the scars on his back and dealing with Cazador when the time would come.

Still, instead of savouring his accomplishment he found himself distracted with his attempts to wrap his head around you. 

Sometimes he wanted nothing more than to peek inside this little skull of yours, picking your brain until he would satisfy his curiosity with you and determine the reason why you were lingering on his mind of late. 

He wanted to figure out what made him actually want to listen to the things you had to say, admire your wit when you would share a heartfelt laugh over one of your foolish jokes or why he would seek your company after a night spent in familiar solitude. And even worse: Why in the Hells he had caught himself enjoying how your face would light up after you had saved another unfortunate soul in need on your travels. 

Astarion sighed and pushed his fingers to his eyes, hoping that pressing them shut would free him from his vexing thoughts, as a sudden noise distracted him.

The pounding of hurried footsteps and jumbled voices rose outside his tent, growing louder and faster.

He let out another disgruntled sigh.

Gods, what would it be now?

Whoever was roaming around your camp this late at night, screaming like an animal, better had a rightful reason to do so.

His annoyance fell off immediately as he came to understand what the unfamiliar voices were yelling: Your name. Followed by pleas for help.

Before he even comprehended what exactly posed this sudden level of urgency, his feet had already dragged him outside in the dark, a cold breeze brushing against his skin.

“What is going on?” he heard his own voice meddling into the sudden tumult. 

Then he spotted you: Arms and legs hanging lifelessly, brought down on your bedding by one of the Harpers he remembered from the Last Light Inn. You were followed by a few other Harpers who positioned themselves around your tent - they were desperately shouting for a healer.

An icy grip twisted Astarion’s chest as he stormed forward to reach you, stomping through mud and dirt.

“Is she hurt?” His voice broke as he saw your face. You were lying on your blanket, eyes rolling behind closed lids, cheeks all flushed and a thin line of sweat forming on your brow. You looked utterly terrible: Weakened and sick, seemingly in a feverish delirium. 

Astarion had seen you wounded before, due to blood and gore being in the nature of your journey to free yourself from the tadpoles, but never like this: more dead than alive, not moving a single major muscle.

What in the Nine Hells had happened to you?

Astarion swallowed hard before he found his voice again and turned to the ones who had brought you in.

“What did you do to her?” he hissed, readying himself to grab the Harper next to him by the throat and shake him until his tongue would loosen. “Explain yourself, now!”

Before any of the men could open their agape mouths in response to Astarion’s daunting request, Shadowheart broke the heated atmosphere with a soft push to his shoulder and made way to kneel beside you. 

“Let me see her.” She spoke quickly as she felt for your pulse and started to spread her hands protectively over you, encompassing you in a blue radiance. She was already casting a healing spell.

“Your friend, she… she was fighting a shadow creature, and it must have poisoned her,” the Harper that had carried you pressed between quivering lips. “We already sent someone to call for Isobel. She will know what to do.” As he met Astarion’s furious glimpse, he hastily added “They – they should be here any minute.”

Poison? Astarion wrinkled his nose. Indeed, your blood smelled different – somewhat tainted. 

He focused his gaze back to you, suppressing the urge to slap that damned Harper straight across the face. 

Instead of acting out this violent thought, he sank to his knees next to Shadowheart and carefully laid one hand on your cheek. You were burning hot and letting out ragged breaths between your cracked lips.

“I can cast my spells, but I am not versed in the toxins of the Dark”, Shadowheart declared with the most tensed look on her face, her magic still hovering over your body. “We need Isobel – fast.”

Another twist in Astarion’s chest. He racked his brain for a solution, his hand still held helplessly against your cheek. You were in need of healing, desperately, and more adept than Shadowheart could provide. His senses began to blur.

Through the pulsing sound of blood rushing through his ears he could only gather a few scraps of the enfolding conversation between the Harpers and the rest of your companions that had hurried to your aid.

It was enough to paint a picture of what happened to you: During your night watch, you had noticed a Harper being dragged away in the shadows and went immediately to his aid. With a few quick blows, you had managed to kill the attacking creature and save the unfortunate man from his demise, but for its final act it stroked you with its claw, leaving a deep scratch on your right arm – the source of the suspected poison that would flow through your veins. 

Astarion bit the inside of his cheek, spilling blood. His mind was racing. 

Of course you had gotten yourself in danger over saving someone else again. 

In normal times, he would have loved to tease you for your foolish act of heroism and give you an “I told you so”, probably earning a defiant look from you while you would emphasise the importance of helping those in need. 

Hells, he desired nothing more than to listen to your moralising if it meant that he could just hear your voice right now. 

But instead of lecturing him on morality, you were still lying on your mattress, unmoving and probably on the verge of death, and he couldn’t think of a single way to rid you of this terrible state.

He felt numb. Useless. It made him sick.

A gut wrenching thought rushed over him. 

What if you would die right now – just like that? 

Before he could… Well, before he could do what exactly?

The image of your limp lifeless body with dead staring eyes entered his mind.

No. You didn’t deserve to die. You couldn’t die. Not like this. Not now, not ever, not from saving a goddamned Harper.

Then you whimpered. 

Silent, almost inaudible, but enough to set Astarion ablaze. 

The urge of punishing every single one who had dared to lead you to harm overcame him like a ruthless wave crashing shore. He wanted to cut open, to rip apart and to send everyone into eternal hell.

Fire took over his crimson eyes as he bared his fangs, the look of a predator on his pale face, ready to curse those wretched Harpers or worse, as another quiet sound spilled from your lips.

“As… Astar... ion…?”

He froze.

His name – spoken as gentle as a flicker of moonlight glistening through leaves. Not moaned in lust or used to denounce him in anger – just… him being called, in the most faintest way. 

He felt his eyes wet before he even knew it, his mouth opened for a split second only to his lips pressing it shut again, forcing himself to blink before a single tear could make its way down his cheek.

You sounded so fragile. So ... in need of him.

“Asta...rion?”

His chest twisted again.

He wanted to whisper words of comfort to you, chanting them over and over like a prayer, assuring you that everything would be alright.

“Don’t speak,” he managed to breathe in a cracked voice. “I’m here, my sweet.”

Your eyes were still closed and moving fast underneath your lids. You spoke in a fever, and he could sense that you were in pain. 

Astarion brushed a strand of hair off your sweaty brow, using just the tips of his slender fingers. A most careful touch, as if a hint of deeper force would break you. 

Then, there was no more sound coming from you.

“Hells, where is that goddamned cleric? If she doesn’t arrive here any second, I’m going to drag her over myself-” Astarion’s voice was nothing more than a helpless plea. He sounded way less threatening than he had wished for, almost spilling those tears he had to hold back, and seconds before bursting if there would be no aid for you right now.

“No need to shout, my friend. I’m right here.”

Isobel. Finally. 

A fire in his stomach again.

How dared she sound so calm, considering your condition?

With haste, Isobel knelt between him and Shadowheart and opened her pouch, revealing a set of different sized bottles. She began to examine you with concentration, lifting your eyelids to look at your pupils, checking your vitals and thoroughly inspecting the wound the monster had inflicted on you. 

Astarion gritted his teeth in anticipation, a thick lump forming in his throat. 

“Will she be alright?” he eventually demanded, his voice cracking like a violin out of tune, but Isobel ignored him and silently continued her treatment. 

“Astarion, I’m worried about her too, but I think we shouldn’t disturb Isobel right now,” Wyll interfered softly and squeezed his shoulder. 

Taken aback, Astarion pressed his lips together. Of course Wyll would be the voice of reason in a situation like this, but unfortunately he wasn’t wrong. Isobel was the most profound healer available, an expert on the shadow creatures - and unlike himself, she offered the possibility to save you.

“As I thought,” Isobel mumbled after a minute that had felt like eternity and opened one of her potions with a loud plop. “She will need this.”

She then put her thumb on your chin, carefully opening your mouth and pouring in a dark liquid, before she continued to clear your wound. 

Astarion eagerly watched her hands treating you with expertise, still not laying his gaze off you.

“I gave her a powerful antidote,” Isobel began to explain calmly as she spread a colourless balm on your torn flesh. “Such poison needs fast treatment. Fortunately, if dealt with in time, it can still be cured. I’m glad I was able to aid your dear friend before it made its way through her entire body. Otherwise… It most likely would have been fatal.”

Astarion’s muscles tightened and his stomach turned. You almost died tonight.

Isobel seemed to notice his tension, so she quickly added “With this antidote, she will be completely fine in the morning. Her fever might continue through the night, but I promise that there is no more reason for concern.”

“Are you completely sure of that, Isobel?” Shadowheart asked, seeking out reassurance that the treatment truly had succeeded.

“I swear by Selune, she is not at risk anymore. The antidote freed her from the poison and the balm will heal her wound,” the cleric responded confidently. “Her body will do the rest.” 

The tight, dark blanket that had wrapped around Astarion’s chest began to loosen up.  

“I… I’m glad that she’ll be alright,” was all he managed to vocalise as the adrenaline slowly faded from his body.

“Thank you, Isobel,” added Gale, who had been nervously walking up and down your tent as Isobel had tended to your condition. 

Even Shadowheart, a devoted follower of Lady Shar, spared a few words of gratitude towards the cleric following her sworn enemy’s beliefs.

A general sense of ease took over from the strained atmosphere that had prevailed just a moment ago.

“She needs rest and quiet now,” Isobel claimed and gave a telling look to your companions and the assembly of Harpers that gathered around your tent. 

An unspoken demand that it was time to give you some space now.

*

“I will stay with her,” Astarion announced to Shadowheart and the remaining group after Isobel and the Harpers had left for the Last Light Inn. There had been a quick discussion if you should have been brought with them, but eventually it was decided that you were more safe in your own bedroll than being dragged through the shadow infested lands again. 

“Are you sure, Astarion? I’d be more than glad to watch over her myself,” Shadowheart responded, not hiding her surprise over his proposition.

Even if Astarion wasn’t sure about anything in particular right now, he felt the pressing need to remain by your side until you would open your eyes again, ensuring that Isobel had spoken the truth and the threat had passed. 

“Well, I won’t be able to get some more rest tonight anyway, so I might as well just stay over here,” he attempted in a more indifferent manner. “Besides, her tent is by far the most comfortable one our excuse for a camp has to offer, and I’m looking forward to indulging in some peace and quiet after all of this night's terrible trouble.”

Karlach listened to his explanation in slight amusement and gave him a supporting nod. Liar, her smiling face said.

“Well, if you’re sure, and there are no objections… Then it’s fine with me, I suppose,” Shadowheart replied with a raised eyebrow. “But promise to shout for me if something’s the matter, will you?”

“Gods, would you please give me some credit here, you mother hen. I got this,” Astarion said and rolled his eyes. On the inside, he was still shaken up, and he could only hope that the slight pitch in his voice wouldn’t give him away. “So hush hush everyone, off you go now. Get in some  beauty sleep, as you all are evidently in need of it.”

“Chk!” Lae’zel interfered in the most angry whisper she could muster. “Leave Astarion to look after her for the night if he insists. I’m certain he knows the fate that will await him should she come to harm under his supervision.” Lae’zel’s very own way to express that she came to care about you.

“Charming as ever,” Astarion replied at this implicit threat, still holding no intention to move merely an inch from his spot next to your bedroll.

“You see, Shadowheart? There seems to be no need to worry about our dearest friend,” Gale added with a slight chuckle. “I suppose she’ll be in good hands for tonight.”

Shadowheart let out a grunt and readied herself to leave with the others, but not before she would lay one last gaze on you, ensuring that you had not gotten any worse over the last few minutes.

*

Astarion watched your chest rise and fall in a soothing rhythm.

What a mess this night had been.

From the moment the Harpers had brought you in it had been like a heavy weight violently crushing his chest over and over, turning him into an angry, scared wreck, and the pressure only began to wear off by now.

Realistically, he knew that you were safe and the danger had passed. But then, why was there such an uneasiness lingering on him?

He had been scared in his life before, probably more times than he could recall, and yet… The fear over losing you tonight had shifted something in him. 

You had called for him in your feverish delirium, as you were lying helpless and in pain. 

It was an image hard to shake off.

Astarion sighed, when he noticed that you were still in your armour. There was no way in Hell he would let you sleep in this reeking dirt-covered piece of cloth, so his dexterous fingers began to peel it off, piece by piece. Carefully not to wake you, he stored your armour aside, until you were lying in your undergarment. Then he took your blanket and wrapped it around you.

With another gentle motion, he let his finger stroke along your brow, brushing over the dampness of your skin. You were still feeling hot. 

His nose wrinkled as he pulled down his sleeve to cautiously wipe your sweat away. There was no need to get up to fetch some extra cloth, and he would be perfectly capable of cleaning his shirt the next morning.

For a while, Astarion would just watch over you, mustering your relaxed face and ensuring that your breathing continued steadily. You seemed to be in a calm sleep, still feverish, but evidently better looking than the moment you had been brought in.

The next morning came to his mind. Perhaps he might attempt to prepare your favourite food for you, a simple but apparently very delicious berry porridge. Not that he had any particular experience on the matter, since his culinary needs were restricted to blood these days, but if someone like Gale was able to cook it, he surely would be too. Maybe he would surprise you with the dog or the owlbear for some morning snuggling in bed, as you seemed to never spend a single day without indulging in some pets on your journey. Well, he probably should bring in both. Oh how delighted you would be, waking up to these furry little beasts, he thought with a grin. 

Then it hit him.

Shit.

His nice, simple plan with you had truly and utterly fallen apart.

What should have been nothing more than an insurance for his safety, a way to rid himself of the tadpole in his brain and offer him a powerful ally to face Cazador some day, had developed into something he never experienced before.

He genuinely cared about you - more than he thought himself to be capable of. You had become most precious to him, and he felt the urgent need to be honest with you. 

You were incredible, and you didn’t deserve to be lured into a selfish alliance.

You deserved something real. 

He wanted things between you to be something real - even if he didn’t know what real looked like. After all, charming and deceiving others was the only way he had ever known. Forming a sincere connection and being close with someone posed an entirely new and remarkably scary sensation. But maybe, with you…

Your faint voice brought him back from his thoughts. 

“Asta...rion?” 

His face softened, not as an act of will, more like a reflex.

You looked at him with half-open eyes, sounding still a little weak.

He bowed his head closer to you and spoke softly, letting his thumb brush gently over your cheek.

"There you are, my little fool. Getting ourselves in trouble over our constant need to do something heroic again, weren’t we?”

“Mh… Is that so?” you asked in a raspy voice, offering a weak smile through glistening eyes underlined with dark circles, your hair pressed damp to your skull. “And you saved me, I suppose?” 

Astarion’s heart grew tight with adoration. To him, you had never looked more beautiful.

“I’m afraid not, my dear. Actually, you have been poisoned by a shadow creature, so you were in need of a more adept healer. Isobel treated you.”

“Mhm.. How bad was it?”

He thought for a moment, the fear he had felt rushing over him for a split second and piercing his chest like ice. 

"Well, not as bad as it could have. I’ll spare you the details for tomorrow.”

“That’s… good.” You hummed, sounding drowsy and still a little feverish. Then, you gave a soft plea. “Astarion… Would you… stay with me tonight?”

There it was again, a pull at his heartstrings. 

Gods, you wicked little thing.

“Of course, my darling. I’ll stay as long as you need me.”

A promise, unimaginable honest had it been another time, with another person, but this was now, and this was you.

He gave another gentle press to your hand, carefully intertwining your fingers with his, as if to underline his words.

"Thank you,” you whispered, eyes closed for a second before you let your gaze meet his again. Another quiet mumble. "Could you... hold me please?"

Astarion was overwhelmed by your vulnerability for a second. He wanted nothing more than to provide you comfort, to make you feel safe, but didn't know if he should give in. Even though you had often shared your bedroll these days, this somehow felt more open, more intimate.

Before he realised what he was doing, he swiftly lifted off your blanket to slip underneath and laid his arm around your waist, pulling you in close.

He could feel your hand on his chest. Your head gently resting on his shoulder, fingers loosely clutching around the end of his collar. Your warm body against his cold.

Astarion let his fingers gently caressing the small of your back.

You were breathing steady, already seeming to doze off again. A soothing calmness came over him.

“I hope… I didn’t worry you too much,” you mumbled, more asleep than awake.

Astarion bit his lip.

“Well…” he said and cleared his throat. “I managed.” A complete understatement of events, but this was also a confession for another day. “Rest now, my love.”

Astarion continued to gently stroke your back, his lips turning into an affectionate smile. He never thought his heart to be this full over the failure of such a simple plan.

Masterlist

[heiayen]

this looks like us! gn!reader x various (kaveh, wanderer, zhongli, childe, kazuha, lyney, venti.)

summary: what things do they match with you? keychains, jewelry, clothing? let's take a look!

tags: implied modern au, around 80-100 words per character, just very short headcanons <3 could be ooc because it's my first time writing in a moment, not proofread that much

notes: ehhhh trying to get back into writing with short silly hcs... hello everyone. grand heia comeback 90% will make second part with more characters !!

Kaveh is the kind of person to have matching keychains with you! He has already got a keychain for his keys, a proud lion guarding the keys... that he manages to lose often anyway, so why not get another one? This time matching yours, and instead of attaching it to his keys (because gods forbid he loses them and the keychain!), he attaches it to his bag. And let me tell you, it does not end on a single keychain!

Most of the time, you don't even know that you are matching anything with Wanderer, seriously. If you ask him to get something matching together then, yes, he will agree, although begrudgingly, but also so often he will buy you something (while telling you to not make a big deal out of it, you're his partner, yes, yes, move on), and a few days later you will notice him having a matching pair of that thing. You never call him out for that, just smile to yourself.

As the gentleman he is, Zhongli is the man to give you matching rings or necklaces, all selected by him with utmost care. Every piece he gets for you two is one of the best quality, and he makes sure it fits your preferences, so don't worry if you wear only one kind of metal! He always pays attention to any stones in your jewelry, to ensure they are the best quality available. And sometimes, you find it so hard to bite down the urge to show off your new ring or necklace to all your friends, saying that yes, it's your partner who got it for you.

Childe is the person to see something that reminds him of you two, and get it, no hesitation. A pair of funny socks (with an animal that reminds him of you), keychains (that teddy bear was similar to you)... a scarf in the same pattern as his, because you need to be dressed well during winter, he doesn't want you to get sick– did he just point at those two chestnuts and said that it reminded him of you two? You don't see it, but whatever makes him happy!

Kazuha makes handmade yarn bracelets for you two, and he's quite skilled at it! He always picks your favorite colors, sometimes with matching pedants and pretty patterns, and you never know that he's making one, usually during late night hours, with the lamp's light as his companion, when sleep doesn't want to arrive. You got a few of them already but will happily accept every next one he makes, proudly wearing them on your wrists. It's always a lovely sight, to look at your joined hands adored by the bracelets he makes. Maybe you should learn how to make them too…?

With Lyney, you will more than often find yourself matching outfits... or at least pieces of it, if you can't wear a fully coordinated outfit. A matching shirt? Sure, that sounds great! You two can get some funny print together on it– or not funny, just a normal print. You two can also dress in a similar style if you don't have anything to match, or even match socks out of all things. Additionally, if you enjoy painting your nails... Lyney would happily paint his nails with a polish matching your eyes, and would gladly help you find one matching his, so that you two can match your nails!

Venti, on the other hand, likes to match... yes, hair clips with you. He got a bunch of them at home, all different. Ones with small flowers or stars, animals even, in so many colors and shapes– the point is, he's got them a lot, and he will happily lend you them so you two can have matching hairclips in your hair. He will also happily buy a pair if he sees one and likes it, and give you one of them. Soon, you will have an entire box of hair clips...

[fictoculus]

౨ৎ genshin men; love languages...

send a request!┊masterlist┊taglist applications

FEAT... aether, albedo, alhaitham, ayato, childe, diluc, gorou, heizou, itto, kaeya, kaveh, kazuha, neuvillette, scara, thoma, tighnari, wriothesley, venti, xiao, xingqiu, zhongli

A/N... ohemgee kaede is back ?!! i'm sorry it's been so longggg i've really missed writing, i think i js kinda lost my spark for a bit but i should be back to posting nowww hooray !! even if i don't come backkk (since i'm not fully certain) i hope you can still enjoy these hc drabble thingies nd also my previous works, thank you ♡

✧ quality time.

he wants nothing more than to spend time with you, to smell the sweet fragrance of your perfume as it dances in the gentle breeze. he wants to watch as your hair flows gently, each strand delicately swaying back and forth, as if to mimic the way he swings his arms when his hand is holding yours. just being around you gets him all excited, though you'll never catch him actually admitting it. he has countless photos of the two of you together, each one connected with a memory that will stay with him forever. he often finds himself looking over them late at night when he's missing you, wishing you were there to hold him, or tell him about your interests, even sitting in silence would suffice. he just wants to be with you, whether that be studying, sleeping, reading, shopping, eating - he doesn't care, he'll do anything as long as it's with you..

xiao, alhaitham, aether, heizou, wriothesley + your favs

✧ gift giving.

it's almost like routine. at least once a fortnight, he comes knocking on your door with some sort of gift, stops you in the corridor with a bag full of goodies, or has a huge bouquet of your favourite flowers delivered straight to your front door when he's unable to come see you. he goes through a lot of trouble behind the scenes to get these things together for you, but it's all worth it when he sees that pretty smile light up your face, eyes glistening with pure excitement as you see whatever he's prepared for you. his eyes, on the other hand, are full of love as he sees the outcome of his hard work; your happiness is of utmost importance to him. the gifts he gives come in all different shapes and sizes, anything from a snack you'd said you'd been craving to a ridiculously expensive piece of jewellery, but you know that no matter what it is, he put so much thought and care into picking it out for you; that's what mattered to you most. even if he didn't shower you in his love this way, you wouldn't love him any less - of course you wouldn't. you care about him, not the things he gives you (though you really do appreciate them). he loves you more than words can say, and this is his way of showing it.

zhongli, ayato, albedo, neuvillette + your favs

✧ physical touch.

he's all over you. from the second you wake up to the moment you drift off to sleep. 24/7. he just can't get enough. he's practically addicted to your warmth, the softness of your skin, scars and all. it no longer comes as a surprise when you feel his arms snake around your waist from behind, or even when he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, his hair tickling your cheek as he moulds around your figure. he can't seem to stay away from you. the second he hears your voice, or the mention of your name, even your footsteps (yes, he knows), he comes rushing over, immediately insisting on intertwining his fingers with yours. your contact is replenishing to him. no matter how tired he is or how many hardships he had to face that day, feeling you run your hands up and down his back or cup his cheeks, his mood is immediately uplifted.

itto, childe, diluc, tighnari, kaeya, kaveh + your favs

✧ words of affirmation.

"i love you" "i love you" "i love you" it's constant, over and over and over. he repeats it a thousand times, as if it's an ancient incantation, but he still doesn't think it's enough. he just wants you to know how perfect you are, how beautiful you are, how easy to love you are; he wants you to see yourself the way he sees you. he's desperate to talk about you, to tell someone how much he loves you, and who else would he tell than the person he trusts most? and so, when the two of you are finally snuggled up close, he'll whisper in your ear the most poetic words you've ever heard, trying his best to capture your essence, though to him, it always feels just out of reach. he knows he'll never be able to truly explain how he feels about you, because there are no words for that feeling he gets in his heart when he hears your voice, or lays his eyes on you, let alone thinks about you. he recites your own stories and little habits back to you as if you're a complete stranger to yourself, and honestly, you can't help but find it endearing. he loves you so much, and he always knows the perfect things to say to see that smile he treasures deep in his heart.

kazuha, xingqiu, zhongli, venti, neuvillette + your favs

✧ acts of service.

sure, he may not be so good with words, but not to worry, he makes up for it one way or another. it's the little things for him. every morning without fail, he'll pack your lunch and leave it on the kitchen counter for you, a little memo hidden inside signed off with his initials and a small doodle, as always. he'll iron your clothes and hang them in your wardrobe, all neat and tidy for when you get dressed the next day. he'll get up 15 minutes earlier than when you usually arise, cooking breakfast for you and letting the scent of crisp bacon waft into the bedroom and wake you from your slumber. he'll do anything for you, big or small; he just wants to make sure you know how much he loves you.

scara, thoma, alhaitham, diluc + your favs

thanks for reading ♡ want to read more? my requests are OPEN, so please feel free to let me know what you’d like me to write next!

TAGLIST…@maopll . @nyxmainex . @avensuersa . @moondrop-gummies. @lacunaanonymoused apply here

© FICTOCULUS 2024; please do not steal, translate, or repost my works as your own

[justauthoring]

naturally [1].

you fit into their little family, perfectly - naturally.

a/n: i... i needed this :')

pairing: nanami kento x f!reader, yuji itadori x f!reader (platonic)

A sudden tug at the hem of your dress pulls your attention away from the flowers you’d been looking at.

You blink, a frown of confusion falling on your face as you slowly lower your gaze – however, the frown is quickly replaced by a smile when you see the familiar head of pink hair nestled by your legs. Yuji is looking up at you with those big, bright eyes of his, but there’s an etch of a frown on his lips and he looks near tears as he holds on to you tightly.

Lowering so you’re closer to his height, you hug your knees to your chest, tilting your head at Yuji. “Hello Itadori-kun,” you greet warmly, eyes briefly searching for the familiar head of blonde hair that was always close next to the boy, refusing to let the concern show when you realize he’s nowhere to be found. Instead, you let your attention focus back on the small boy.

“H-Hello Y/N/N-san,” Yuji replies, his voice shaky and watery as he looks near tears.

“Where’s your papa, sweetheart?” You ask, frowning down at him as you reach out for him, brushing back a strand of ruly pink hair. “Did you get lost?”

He nods, a big pout present on his lips as he sniffles, desperately trying not to let the tears that threaten to fall, fall. The sight makes your heart ache, knowing that Yuji, even in his young age, is always trying to act strong for his papa knowing how hard he works as a single father. 

You’d met Nanami and his son, Yuji, just over a year ago when you moved into the apartment next to theirs. Nanami had just been coming home from the park with Yuji when you’d pulled up with your moving van and to your utmost surprise, Nanami had offered to help you bring in your boxes once he learned you were alone and on the same fourth floor as him. Yuji who had proudly introduced himself to you almost instantly had also offered his help, and you’d given him a small bag of your toiletries so he could feel included as you profusely thanked the man for offering his help when he barely knew you.

From that day on, you’d been smitten with the slightly older man and regularly visited him; mainly because of him but also because you absolutely adored his son who seemed to beam every time you came for a visit. You’d babysat for Nanami more times than you could count when he was called into work, had offered to pick up Yuji from daycare when he couldn’t – the first time you ever had, Yuji had practically swarmed you, dragging you by the hand to meet his friends Junpei, Megumi and Nobara who were a bundle of energy themselves – and Nanami often repaid the favour by making you dinners, helping you with any issues you had and the like.

Yuji coming to you for help that day wasn’t all that surprising – what was surprising was the fact that he’d gotten lost from Nanami at all. The man usually had a pretty great grip on where his son was and constantly had an eye on him. It made you worry, afraid something had gone wrong and maybe Nanami was hurt… you were only happy you were close by so that Yuji had been able to find you.

Reaching out for Yuji, you extend your palm out towards him, smiling brightly in hopes of reassuring him; “why don’t we go looking for your papa, together, mm? I’ll help you. Let me try calling him.”

He nods, eyes widening with hope as he eagerly places his much smaller hand in your own. He grips on tightly with his tiny fingers, barely reaching around the length of your palm but you easily respond by wrapping your hand around his, not as tightly so as not to hurt him.

As you begin walking, Yuji is careful to stick close even with him holding your hands. He’s constantly glancing around, obviously looking for any sight of his father that he can all whilst scared he might get lost from you too.

You hold on tighter at that thought.

The first time you call, Nanami doesn’t answer. You try to shake the worry that something may have happened to him and begin walking in the direction Yuji had come from, him quietly explaining the two had been at the park before Yuji had accidentally wandered too far. You try calling again once you reach the park, but again, no answer.

Your chest tightens, fearing the worst while trying to not let it show so you don’t scare Yuji further. You can tell he’s getting more anxious by the second, his grip tightening and he’s constantly sniffling, trying to hold back his tears.

Kneeling, you wipe away at a stray tear that had managed to fall; “it’s okay, Itadori-kun, we’ll–”

You’re cut off by a sharp ring. Straightening out, you look Yuji’s way, making sure to keep your grip on his hand as you pull your phone out of your purse – it’s Nanami.

He’s breathless on the phone, panting heavily as he explains he doesn’t know where Yuji is and he’s a second away from calling the police because he’s terrified he’s been grabbed or worse but you’re quick to cut him off, glancing at Yuji as you inform the man that his son is with you. After the relief settles, Nanami asks you to meet him back at the apartment, the middle point on where the two of you are and you quickly agree, telling him you’ll be there in ten minutes.

Sure enough, the second you turn the corner, Nanami is standing there, eyes peeled for the two of you. The second Yuji’s eyes land on his father, he’s pulling away from you without hesitation, you letting go of him with ease once you make sure it’s safe, watching with a fond smile as Yuji goes bounding towards his father.

The second Nanami’s eyes fall on Yuji, you see the instant relief that floods through him. He’s sinking to his knees with a shaky exhale as Yuji crashes into him, letting his much larger arms wrap around the small boy and clutching onto him tightly. 

It takes you a minute longer to reach the two of them and you see Yuji is finally letting his tears fall as he recalls how sorry he is for wandering off and that he’s sorry for making his papa worry and on and on all whilst Nanami simply shakes his head, expressing that he’s only happy that Yuji is okay.

Once Nanami realizes you’re standing in front of the two of them, he stands up still with Yuji clutched tightly in his arms.

“Thank you,” Nanami breathes, “I was so worried. I’m glad Yuji managed to find you when he couldn’t find me.”

You brush him off, “it’s no worries, Nanami-san. I’m glad Itadori-kun found me as well. Poor little guy was scared.”

Nanami frowns, hand falling to the back of the boy's head as Yuji clutches onto him tightly, hiding his face into the crook of his neck. Yuji’s breathing has slowed, and you realize the exhaustion must have caught up to the boy because his eyes are drooping shut and he looks ready to fall asleep.

You smile, “he’s so brave. He was trying not to cry the entire time,” turning to Nanami, you beam. “You’ve got a special little boy, Nanami-san.”

“Kento.”

Pausing, your lips part; “hm?”

“Kento,” he repeats, “please, call me Kento. You’re always so helpful and kind to Itadori, I… I’d rather you call me Kento, Y/N.”

Cheeks warm, your eyes widen; “oh!” You call out, squeaking slightly and trying to ignore the race of your heart as you nod, “y-yeah, of course. Um, K-Kento.”

He smiles, warmly and making the edges of his eyes curl as you try to ignore just how beautiful the sight is, twisting your hands behind your back as you glance at your feet.

“As a thank you, I’ll make you dinner tonight.”

You shake your head; “th-there’s no need, Nana–Kento… I… Like I said, it was no problem–”

“Dinner, tonight. Seven.” Nanami cuts in, pulling your eyes on him in surprise as he grins down at you. “I can call Shoko to see if she’d be willing to babysit.”

Babysit?

Nanami and you have never had dinner without Yuji around. You definitely didn’t mind–you loved the boy… but with the way Nanami is looking at you and the twinkle in his eyes you have a feeling there’s a reason why he offers.

“O-Oh,” you breathe, trying to ignore the racing of your heart. “O-Okay. I’ll be there. Seven.”

Nanami nods, satiated at your agreement, before he offers you one last smile and a wave, turning to make his way inside, obviously to tuck Yuji in since the little guy has promptly passed out in his arms.

All whilst you stand there, a blushing mess.

What were you going to wear tonight?

[springtyme]

𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐖𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 ♡

I just want to steal this man's clothes. I just know he has the warmest, softest jumpers.

Simon “Ghost” Riley x reader || Masterlist || Ghost playlist

summary: Simon comes home to you wearing his jumper.

word count: 820

note: This is pretty self-indulgent, but since it's just a drabble I let myself have it. No gendering terms are used for the reader, but I would say that they are somewhat fem coded. The reader is wearing Simon's jumper which is described as being oversized on them, and Simon picks up and carries the reader.

You wrap your arms around yourself as you enter the living room of your and Simon’s flat, the cool air nipping at your skin. As you shuffle around the room, your eyes fall upon one of Simon’s jumpers hanging on the back of a chair. It’s soft and cosy, just the thing you need to ward off the cold. Without a second thought, you pick it up from the chair before slipping it on, relishing in the way it engulfs your frame.  

The jumper is much too big for you, the sleeves extending far past your fingertips and the hem grazing your mid-thigh. But you love it. You love how it makes you feel small and protected, cocooned in Simon’s embrace even when he’s not around. It is as if you are wearing a piece of him, and it brings a smile to your face.

Inhaling deeply, you catch a whiff of his cologne clinging to the fabric. It’s a comforting scent, fresh and earthy, one that instantly transports you back to the moments you’ve spent wrapped in his strong arms. It lingers around you, comforting and familiar, as you settle down on the sofa.

You sink into the soft cushions, your body relaxing against the plush fabric. The jumper’s oversized nature envelopes you, making you feel safe and secure. The warmth seeps into your bones, and you can’t help but let out a tired, content sigh as you close your eyes, surrendering to the cosiness, and soon you drift into a peaceful slumber. 

· · · · · 

As Simon opens the door to the flat, a familiar sense of comfort washes over him. As he toes off his boots, the scent of home greets him, a familiar blend of your favourite scented candle and the fresh flowers you always insist on having. The sweet aroma filling the air, instantly putting him at ease. 

The familiar creak of the wooden floorboards under his feet echoes through the hallway, a sound that signifies he is truly home as he makes his way towards the living room. His heart swells with affection as he sees you lying there, fast asleep, wearing his jumper.

He can’t help but smile at the sight. You look so peaceful, curled up on the cushion, radiating warmth and comfort. The jumper, far too big on you, engulfing your figure, making you look even more adorable.

Simon’s steps are careful as he approaches, not wanting to disturb your peaceful rest. He crouches down beside the sofa, his eyes tracing the contours of your face.

Admiring the way you look in his jumper, Simon feels a surge of love and affection. It’s in these simple moments that he realises how lucky he is to have you in his life. You bring him a sense of comfort and joy that he never thought possible.

As you stir in your sleep, Simon leans in, his lips brushing against your forehead. You smile, sensing his presence, even in your dreams. With a content sigh, you snuggle deeper into the jumper, feeling the warmth and love it represents.

Simon’s heart swells with tenderness as he watches you sleep peacefully. The sight of you curled up, vulnerable and content, fills him with a deep sense of affection. Gently, he scoops you up in his strong arms, careful not to disturb your slumber as he carries you towards the bedroom. 

With each step, he feels a surge of protectiveness, a desire to keep you safe and secure. The softness of your skin against his arms, the warmth emanating from your body, it all fuels his determination to care for you.

As he enters the bedroom, he lays you gently on the soft bed, tucking you in with the utmost care. He adjusts the covers, making sure you’re snug and comfortable. 

He takes a moment to admire you, his heart overflowing with love. He still can’t believe how lucky he is to have you in his life. The way you trust him, the way you bring him peace and happiness, it’s a gift he cherishes every day.

Simon leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. He whispers words of affection, knowing you won’t hear them but wanting to express his love nonetheless. 

Simon knows that this is a moment he will remember, one he’ll think back on fondly when he’s on deployment and misses you. The image of you curled up in his jumper, etched into his mind. He knows that no matter where life takes you, these small moments of care and tenderness will always be the foundation of your love.

In the quiet of the night, Simon finds solace in knowing that he can be there for you, just as you have always been there for him. And as he lays next to you, drifting off to sleep, he dreams of a future filled with more stolen moments, shared laughter, and the warmth of your love.

[falafelluva]

Hiya!!! I was wondering if you could write kenan being a girl dad. Like he come back from training with flowers for you and your daughter, and he cuddles both of you on the sofa (like being real cute)

Not sure if that makes sense 😂😂😂

Thank youuuu. x

; 𝐆𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐀𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 - 𝘬.𝘺𝘪𝘭𝘥𝘪𝘻 ✮

summary: the req basically

warnings: x

author’s note: it made sense to me dw bae🫡, I hope that this is something close to what u wanted 😔👍😔👍

Kenan’s footsteps echoed softly in the hallway as he entered, balancing two small bouquets behind his back with a grin. It had been a tough day of training, but he knew exactly how to lift everyone’s spirits, especially his girls.

He spotted you on the couch, comfortably tucked under a cozy blanket, while little Leila was sprawled out on the floor, surrounded by crayons and her latest coloring project.

The moment the door clicked shut, Leila’s head popped up. Her eyes sparkled when she saw Kenan standing there with something hidden behind his back.

She pushed herself up, a huge smile already spreading across her face as she ran toward him, her small feet pattering excitedly across the floor.

“Baba! What’s behind your back?” she asked, practically bouncing on her toes.

Kenan crouched down to her level, bringing his hands forward to reveal the bouquet of daisies, her favorite flowers. Her face lit up, and she gasped, holding her hands out as he handed the flowers to her.

“Did you pick these, Baba?” she asked, clutching the daisies as if they were the most beautiful treasure she’d ever seen.

Kenan grinned, ruffling her hair. “Ja, of course. Just for you,” he said with a wink, knowing it would make her day to believe he’d hand-picked each one.

Leila turned, skipping toward the coffee table to place the daisies in a little cup of water she’d set aside. To her, it was the perfect vase, and she arranged the flowers with the utmost care.

As Kenan walked over to you, he brought out the second bouquet, a lovely bunch of your favorite flowers.

leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead as you accepted them, a warm smile spreading across your face.

“They’re beautiful, Kenan. Thank you,” you whispered, inhaling their sweet scent.

After a quick shower and change, Kenan joined you both in the living room. He settled onto the couch beside you, letting out a contented sigh as he stretched his long legs.

Leila soon noticed, bringing over her coloring book to show him the rainbow-colored picture she’d just finished. She held it up proudly, and Kenan took it, examining each detail like it was a masterpiece in an art gallery.

“Look at this, mama!” he said with mock-seriousness. “Did you see how talented our Leila is?”

You smiled, reaching over to hold the drawing. “Wow, Leila, that’s amazing! You’ve got an eye for colors.”

Leila’s grin widened, but her moment of pride was short-lived. Her face shifted as she noticed Kenan’s legs stretched out comfortably in her path.

She furrowed her brow and placed her hands on his knee, trying to push it out of her way.

“Baba, move,” she huffed, growing a little impatient. “You’re in my way!”

Kenan chuckled, feigning a sigh as he adjusted his legs. “Alright, alright. I was just trying to cuddle mama.” He wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer.

Leila’s eyes narrowed, and she stepped between the two of you, folding her arms. “That’s my mama,” she declared, her face set in a look of stubborn resolve.

Kenan raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by her seriousness. “Oh, really? She’s my wife, you know,” he teased, leaning in as if to prove his point by giving you an exaggerated kiss on the cheek.

Leila, not backing down, placed her hands on her hips. “I don’t care! Mama loves me more.”

Kenan gasped, clutching his chest as if wounded. “Are you serious? Without me, you wouldn’t even be here, Leila. I was here first!”

Leila wasn’t impressed. She tilted her head, giving him a deadpan look. “I don’t care,” she said defiantly. “Mama loves me.”

With an exaggerated pout, Kenan turned away, his back to her, as if deeply heartbroken. “Fine, then. Guess I’ll just sit here… all alone. I’m sad now,” he mumbled, crossing his arms dramatically.

You bit back a laugh, giving Leila a pointed look, trying not to break character.

“Leila, look,” you said, pretending to be concerned. “I think you made Baba sad…”

Leila’s resolve started to waver as she watched her father’s back, his shoulders drooping in mock sadness. Her eyes softened, and she shuffled closer, resting a hand on his shoulder.

“Baba, don’t be sad,” she murmured, wrapping her little arms around him in a tender hug.

Kenan couldn’t keep up the act any longer, and he turned, scooping her up in his arms.

“Ah, that’s better! You know I can’t stay sad when I have meine Prinzessin here to cheer me up.” (My princess)

Leila giggled as Kenan began peppering her face with kisses, each one making her laugh harder, her little arms clutching onto him as he tickled her sides. Her laughter filled the room, a sound so pure and joyful it warmed your heart.

After a while, Leila’s giggles subsided, and she just rests against his chest, catching her breath. Kenan wrapped an arm around you as well, pulling you close until the three of you were cuddled together on the couch, a tangle of arms and legs and love.

Leila rested her head on his chest, one hand still clutching her crayon, her eyelids growing heavy.

Kenan leaned over, brushing a soft kiss to your forehead and then to Leila’s hair. “I love you, both of you,” he whispered, his voice filled with warmth.

You nestled into his side, resting your head on his shoulder. “We love you too, Kenan. You’re our everything.”

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

how BUCKY BARNES shows his love:

gn!reader — fluff, 502 words

— BUCKY shows it with acts of service: opting to show his thoughtful side in ways that are beneficial to you. small things like cleaning the fridge or making the bed when he knows you don't want to. doing it because he knows it'll make you feel better, the looming errand now free from your mind.

caring things, like when he makes breakfast in the morning - always being sure to give you the better piece of bread, the runnier egg, the glass with the most juice in. seemingly tiny things he doesn't expect to be noticed, though he does them anyway.

— BUCKY shows it with quality time: always preferring the company of you over another. wanting to be in your presence even if that simply means doing nothing at all. just as long as you're with him, and he's with you.

even if you're doing your own things, he'd still want to share the space with you. so when you're at the dining table with your laptop or phone demanding your attention, he'd be at the other end, polishing his combat boots. silently hanging out with you.

— BUCKY shows it with words of affirmation: verbally thanking and appreciating you, even when he struggles to express those feelings. always being sure to remind you just how special and important you are to him, again, even if he struggles to speak on them. though more often than not, he would find himself sinking back into old, familiar ways of his time - writing notes and letters because he much prefers the sentiment of pen and paper to the technology he's forced to become used to.

he'll be damned if he doesn't tell you he loves you at the end of every phone call. or compliment you with the utmost sincerity when you meet by the front door before every date. he never wants to shy away from his love for you. he doesn't know what may happen to him and, he wants the last thing he said to be from a place of love.

— BUCKY shows it with physical touch: never shying away from a kiss when he welcomes you home, always wanting to greet you with something physically heartfelt. or finding you in the kitchen, wrapping his arms around you, quietly cuddling into you from behind.

he shows it by absentmindedly playing with your hands, his fingers interlocking with yours, stroking each in a mindless, fidgety toying. no other hand cuts it for him. he'd only ever want the familiar touch and feel of you.  

— BUCKY shows it with gift giving: wanting to give small romantic gestures to show his love and thought for you. always being sure to pick up your favourite drink or chocolate from the store, always, always, checking the brand and label twice.

surprising you in the mornings with a fresh bouquet of flowers and takeout from your favourite breakfast place. setting the table up all nice and pretty, treating every day like it's an anniversary or special event.

I did this for reid & pietro and wanted to do one for our man bucky

[valentine-cafe]

. ˚◞♡ 𝒚𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒅𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒏 𝒙 𝒇𝒆𝒎 𝒔𝒂𝒄𝒓𝒊𝒇𝒊𝒄𝒊𝒂𝒍 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 ꒰ 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒅𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒏-𝒏𝒆𝒄𝒓𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆𝒓 𝒂𝒍𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒊𝒔𝒕  ꒱◞ ₊˚

⊹ ۪ ࣪ ᥫ᭡ jingyi verseless / fem sacrificial reader ꒱ your village has a tradition of picking the flower maiden, a woman to be sacrificed every so often to a demon of the abhorration. this year, it seems that you are the lucky flower

𖹭. content warnings◞  yandere behaviour .  kidnapping . 0.8k

𖹭. receipts◞  had this idea and just had to put it onto paper because hello

. ˚◞ ꒰ 🍰 𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒌𝒔 ꒱ m.list . guidelines . characters . lorebook ⊹ ۪ ࣪ 

imagine being born to a village that sacrifices their most beautiful, most dutiful, most splendid maiden - as a bride to a demon, they always say.

the decade’s flower maiden. quite the title. both feared and revered.

but when you stood there with a crown of flowers feeling like a crown of thorns, the former shone true. your heart racing as though it wished to tear through your chest and flee from your body. run far - far away. what would it matter? your chest cavity would surely be ripped into two once the demon got his hands on you.

as you stood amongst the diagram drawn with nectar and rose petals. you inhale. bidding one final glance to the deranged villagers who only looked at you with sympathetic smiles and sorrowful eyes.

they could stop this. any time they wished.

who is to say the demon would come knocking on the door?

was there even a demon?

the question would crumble away once you stood before him. tall, dark. an accumulation of ebony mist framed over where you assumed his eyes should be. long claws you can only remind yourself are for tearing. razor teeth for the same.

“another?”

he sounds unimpressed. you are certain the flowers wilt when met with his dry tone. nevertheless you stand straight. fingers twitching as you shakily fiddle.

“are. . . are you -”

“the demon your people obsess over? take a guess sweetheart.”

a chill rises goosebumps in your skin when the demon circles around your far smaller form. while the fog obscures his face, you can almost feel the look of judgement. you could not help the thorn of irritation poking through your chest.

you were the prettiest lily of the valley, what critique might he hold?

the thought is drowned out by the screams of your logic. why were you upset over such a thing? it is not as though you will see the light of day with him to bask in his judgement for much longer. it matters not. you are prey.

and yet his fingers extending those dark claws, adorned in several silver rings — they caress your face as though you are not.

like a flower indeed. one to be put on display in a pretty, golden vase. treated with the utmost care and shown off to all entering one’s abode.

“well I typically release all the pitiful sacrifices your people send my way,” your heart sinks. he stills it by leaning down. a pale face only a breath away. “I must say that this decade’s sacrifice is . . . certainly stunning.”

those claws find your waist instead of your chest. an effortless tug flushing your body to his.

how might a demon feel so soft? like silk. . . wrapped around a bouquet of roses. it is what you felt like when the crux of his finger raises your chin.

“while I hold no interest in your incessant little village. . . I am quite the greedy being. when something catches my eye - well,”

a sharp thumb nail pokes at your lower lip. the first threat of a tear. so close - yet the distraction of mist dissipating to reveal pools of maroon. a face of a demon, that should surely belong to an angel. . . all fear leaks through your pores.

“I take it.”

the middle of your spine arches. the cotton of the white dress your village had clothed you in hangs, as the being leans over you. his height quickly making itself known once more. his hand finds place between your shoulder blades.

“I am sure you would not mind. after all. it is what your people sent you here for, is it not?”

“b-but -”

a chuckle. deep and dark. it strums a chord in your heart. a burst of butterflies flood your tummy. you practically see them venture out into the marble halls of what you can only assume to be his abode.

“your attempts to denial will certainly be cute. but I see it in your eyes,”

the hand glides down to the small of your back. claws tracing, yet never scratching. never tearing.

“you search for an escape. do you not, wild flower?” his thumb strokes. his body flushes to yours. perhaps it is the eyes of a demon. the essence of staring into them. drowning within his stare - that makes your mind echo his words in fervent whispers. desperate agreements.

“I -”

“now, don’t fight it,”

the demon croons. a curl finding his red lips. they set beside your ear and fan a breath lingered with a thousand promises, you can only imagine.

“I shall treat you like the most delicate of roses. the most revered of blossoms. my sweet, sweet wild flower.”

𖹭. taglist◞ wanna join the taglist? fill out this form

𖹭. remember◞ you make a writer's day every time you like, reblog and/or comment on their piece. if you enjoyed my work, please considering doing so<3

. ˚◞ ꒰ 🍰 𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒔𝒖𝒑𝒑𝒐𝒓𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒖𝒔 ꒱ tip jar . masterist ⊹ ۪ ࣪

[sorcerous-caress]

Faux Innocence | Halsin

[Smut, purity kink, slightly toxic Halsin, Durge reader, nb!reader]

Halsin has developed a false impression of who you are. Despite being a bhaalspawn, you were the picture of purity in his eyes and he let his urges to corrupt you take over.

If someone were to ask Halsin what true purity was, he'd merely point in your direction.

For how could anything else compare to you? How could the petals of a budding spring flower compete with you? Not even the sweet nectar of a honeysuckle rivals the sweetness of your innocence.

Is what he sincerely believed, constantly preached and defended with vigour against any conflicting view or opinion someone had of you.

He might have not gotten to know you much, but from what he has seen and through all the troubles you went through to help him and his grove, to help cure this land from its curse and save a child of nature, he has a solidified view about you.

A maniac? A murder? A bhaalspawn? Halsin will soon believe that the sun was blue rather than these blatant lies. You couldn't hurt a fly if you tried, you were the picture of a meek newborn deer in his eyes.

No matter how many times your companions attempted to tarnish his glass stained picture of you, it would never shatter.

Yet you accepted his advances, his proposition in broad daylight. Halsin was sure of one thing that day, and it's that you might have been even more naive than he thought you were, to allow a man you've barely known to bed you so easily.

It almost felt sinful of him to wait for you in the woods that night. His neglected cock throbbing and aching against his clothes, tip leaking pearly white droplets at the thought of your wide eyed stare and sweet smile when you finally arrived.

He was gentle, he really tried to be as gentle as he could. The most careful and delicate he has been in his entire lifetime, a stark contrast to his wild nature and usual intense sexual experiences.

Speaking slowly, softly. Allowing you space and asking you if you're sure multiple times in an almost condensing way. The man would coo at your endearing enthusiasm as he patted your head, amused by your innocence.

Your companions really don't know you at all huh? Spinning false tales of you allowing a priest of loviatar to whip and inflict pain on you so publicly, claiming you were flirting with the devil women after Wyll. They even had the audacity to imply that blood and gore turn you on!

These thoughts only make him chuckle, he has never heard anything so bizarre in his life before.

Halsin picks you up, you fit perfectly into his big arms. The urge to protect you, keep you in his embrace from this scary world that would devour you at the first sign of weakness. It's a miracle that someone as sweet and innocent as you managed to remain pure for so long.

As much as he wants to push you against the tree, he fears its bark might be too harsh for your delicate skin. He only wishes for your utmost comfort as he trails up your neck. Giving your forehead a tender peck before pressing his lips against yours, his tongue politely and wordlessly asking permission for your lips to part.

The kiss is slow, tender, and drives him crazy. He is using all of his self restraint, burying every depraved perverted instinct of his deep down being so careful not to tighten his grip around you.

You're like a fragile fledgling of a hummingbird that entrusted him with its delicate wings.

He asks permission before removing your clothes, swallowing down his saliva at the idea of finally seeing your naked body.

He interprets your casual nod as a sign of being embarrassed, what a timid shy thing you are. May Silvanus grant his soul mercy and give him strength for he is barely holding back. His cock painfully hard and left ignored for the sake of you.

The night is warm and calm, the perfect atmosphere to slowly strip you down. The moonlight illuminating your breathtaking figure as his large hands glide down your soft body.

You belong in a soft bed with featherly pillows, he thinks, covered in silk and veiled by white lace. Maybe even a nest of wool or cotton, as delicate and as precious as an egg, you deserved the same protection.

When he reached between your legs, his breath stopped for a second. Eyes drinking in your most intimate parts on display for him. How he longed to drink you up, swallow you like honey down his throat.

You deserve a hot wet mouth to grind into each night, both to wake you up in the early morning with his head between your legs, and to put you to sleep late at night with your thighs above his shoulders.

Before he realises it, his lips are already on you. Sucking and licking against your heat with the hunger of a dying man. You tasted like pure ambrosia and he was getting addicted.

Nothing could pull him away from you at that moment, no one could convince him to let go before you had your orgasm. How sweet your moans sounded as he drove his tongue further in, as he sucked and swallowed.

And when you held his hand, when you entangled your fingers with his instead of pulling on his hair, he almost came untouched. This simple innocent act of holding hands while he devoured you on his knees, while he shamelessly let his gluttony take charge, it drove him mad with lust.

That hand could never hold a knife or a dagger, he thought, there is no way these delicate fingers could handle a weapon. They were made to be held, to be kissed and to be pinned down.

The melody of your moans echoed through the night, getting louder as you approached release. Halsin felt a sense of pride when he saw the hints of tears at the corner of your eyes, what an intense experience his simple act must have been for someone as pure as you.

“Halsin…please” you breathlessly said, “I'm close, I'm…”

Your next words, asking his permission to cum, were his last straw.

For your orgasm never came. Halsin pulled his mouth away with a wet pop as his primal urges took over. Picking you up again and bending you against his chest, your legs over his shoulder as he kept you in the air.

“Please bear with me, I deeply apologise for this.” you felt something large prop your entrance, his eyes were glazed over.

He's an awful man, he thinks as he plunges his cock into your wet hole. He couldn't resist, he couldn't control himself, he couldn't not be greedy and selfish against your temptations.

The sudden intense change of position, the sudden insertion and the large cock pumping in and out of you with a trail of precum painting your walls, was more than enough to send you over the edge.

Your previous denied orgasm coming back twice as strong. Halsin kept fucking you through your release, pace never slowing down as you cried in pleasure and and your insides squeezed him fist tight.

Drool slipped from the corner of your lips, pleasure clouding your brain and making everything look hazy. Halsin lapped it up with the look of a hungry wolf about to devour its prey, kissing you again and pushing you down deeper onto his cock.

He wanted to ruin you, to steal your purity so it's his forever, to share his filthy fantasies with you until you're as much of a pervert as he is. To fuck each and every one of your holes, to fill you with his cum and bulge your stomach.

Apology after apology were whispered against your lips between each kiss, his brutal pace sending you into overwhelming sensitivity from your fresh orgasm. You could only hold on to his strong chest as you were used like a flashlight, fucked and made to cum so easily by the arch-druid.

The idea of keeping you on his cock forever stirs something dark inside him, to have you warming his cock each moment of the day. To stretch you out on it and bounce you slowly until you cum yourself to sleep, have you all pretty and ready on his lap to be fucked. He would protect you, he would treasure you and he would show you what's your true purpose.

Instead of having to worry about you each time you went out on these adventures, never taking him with you and coming back covered in blood courtesy to your careless companions no doubt. How could they let someone so meek and innocent even see the sight of blood?

You're crying his name, hugging him closer to you. Moving your hips as much as you can to match his pace. Even now you're indulging this selfish man's desires? Fucking yourself against him so he'd give you his cum faster? You really are a sweet thing aren't you. The most adorable person he has ever met.

He was never one to abuse his authority or power, but something tells him if you were a cute fresh druid in training in the grove, he would've made you his personal assistant since day one. Gave a million excuses and reasons on why it should be him to train you, to hold you and show you the proper positions to cast spells, to give you the permission to visit the arch-druid chambers any time.

But maybe even nature is too brutal for you. The sight of that bloodied brutalised squirrel just above the elevator still confuses him to this day, apparently animals can still be hostile whilst in a safe sanctuary like the grove. At least he fully assumed it was another animal that had taken its life.

And Halsin will make sure you never see that side of nature, only the most soft and cherry picked ascents. Have you tending to the flowers and caring for the baby bunnies. Maybe, feeding the kittens seems much more your style.

Your cries pull him out of his fantasy of what a different life with you could've been. There are tears going down your eyes from the intense pleasure and the most cute hiccups and pleads for him to please fill you with his cum, to please push his cock deeper in.

How could he ever say no? It would be criminal to deny you anything.

Halsin was already on edge for so long, it only takes a couple more kisses against your neck, a touch of your curious fingers against his pointy ears and he's spilling his seed inside you. Marking you with his cum and filling you the brim.

His cock pulses inside you as it empties itself, he keeps it plugging you and not allowing a single drop of his cum to escape.

Looking at your eyes, he wonders what you're thinking about in that pure mind of yours. Completely unaware to the depravity of gore inside, to your wandering thoughts about snapping his neck, to your dark urges for him to choke you with his large fists as he fucks you against the harshest tree.

No, instead he kisses your forehead. Smiling as sweat glistens on his skin, he keeps you on his lap.

[diejager]

Hello hellooooooo

I hope you are doing great !!

(I was waiting patiently for your requests to be open again lmao)

So, my brain was just thinking of something for monster!141 and I just need to share it somewhere 😵‍💫

As you may know, penguins' love language is giving pebbles to their loved ones

Penguin hybrid!Hunter just giving monster!141 pebbles and little rocks to show them that they love them 🥹

Alright, I'll go back to my knitting now BYE

*gets out by the window with a parachute*

Pebbles Cw: weird courting, tell me if I missed any.

You didn’t have any noticeable differences to a human, having the appearance of any human with a some quirky and funny behavioural traits that all of them enjoyed. You had your moments of oddity, but you didn’t seem that far from a human, having no tail, ear or horns, your skin as smooth and soft as any. They dropped their suspicions of you being a hybrid, a monster or even an inter dimensional creature of some unknown source.

And somehow, they find small trinkets - small, round pebbles picked out of a bunch to be perfectly rounded, smooth edges and glistening under the light, and sticks, long and robust, but small enough to sneak into the base without being caught - placed in the areas they often found themselves frequenting.

Price would find a cluster of pebbles on his desk, arranged neatly in a ring, a curious little thing that he shrugged off, putting them away for the time he’d be able to catch the culprit red handed in the act. Price chucked it up to being Soap and Gaz pulling a prank on him, an unsuspecting and benign trick for a little laugh between them, he didn’t bother with it too much.

Ghost found his small collection of sticks and rock on the books he liked to read, placed near the corner of his desk in his office, the arrangement was neither crude nor clean, it was a chaotic abstraction that he didn’t understand.He didn’t know what to make of it, no one would be brave enough - stupid enough - to pull something like this on him and on his stuff without knowing the risks they put themselves in.

Soap and Gaz had a few placed that belonged to them alone, like their rooms or their locker in the armoury, small areas that everyone knew was theirs. Gaz was the first of the two to find flowers and pebbles in the top compartment of his locker, picked with utmost care to keep the petal from bending. Soap found his collection of sticks and flowers stitched in a pretty crown placed around the collar of his vest, a little present full of romance and adoration. Both of them couldn’t help but find this weird act endearing.

Until Price saw you rush out of his office, a sweet, love-filled smile plastered on your face as if you’d been given the miracle of your life. If he pushed the thought farther, he could almost see a little tail wagging behind you, oh so overzealous and overjoyed with something you did. Peaked by it, he looked into his room and caught the bright petals of a daisy gently placed in the middle of a wreath of stick. He looked at it with a renewed aww and curiosity, feeling your affection roll of your intricate design, made and catered to him as if you’d made each and every single one of his boys a little courting gift-

It was an instinctual courting behaviour seen in monsters and hybrids alike. It stopped him in his tracks, causing him to question himself and your file, he’d been sure that you were human through and through, holding not a single ounce of monster blood in your veins, you’d done tests. Tests, he had to remind himself that these tests were - despite being physical and DNA tests - noted down if the recipient had any traits deemed worthwhile, something useful in the minds of a battle or in a dogfight.

That would give reason to some missing holes in your file, the little things that made you so charmingly you in every aspect was missing from your papers, reserved for people who came to know you. It warmed his heart, to see you so comfortable with them that you ended up forging such strong, emotional connections that you started giving them gifts. He’d have to take it up with the other boys, tell them what he just found out: your little, courting gifts, your hybrid roots that they could explore and your lovable smile when you’d successfully given your gift, and see where they would go from there.

Taglist: @craxy-person @crowbird @dead-cipher @iwannabealocalcryptid @iizx7y @mxtokko @yeetusspagheetus @capricorn-anon @perfectus-in-morte @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @angelcakes-22 @cassiecasluciluce @ramadiiiisme @ramblingsofachaoticthinker @ki-cant-spel @im-making-an-effort @love-dove-noora @jinxxangel13 @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @mul-pi @danielle143 @virginalsacrifice @beau-min @makayla-666 @urfavsunkissedleo @mixplara @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @luvecarson @petwifed @aldis-nuts @randominstake @stay-088 @heartelysia @jggykhug09090 @cassiecasluciluce @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi

[eccentricallygothic]

Expanding on my claim that Bucky Barnes treat his s/o like a kid because @yourlocalcringydaydreamer asked me to. I am aware Old man!Bucky also bled into this but as someone who has always preferred older men and digs Bucky's age, I don't care. 

-Always takes care of you because you're just a baby and at times you don't– can't know better. And compared to him, you can never know enough. 

-Old man wisdom.  

-So tired of everyone who is not you. 

-“Back in my days…” and “Where I am from…”

-You know, he always ends up being right from passive aggressive friends to toxic colleagues to guys who disguise themselves as friends but don't have the best of intentions at heart. 

-Hindsight is 10/10.

-You're basically dating a super hot grandpa who looks like a god.

-Chivalry.

-A wholesome gentleman.

-“Kids these days don't know how to treat women.” 

-Dates are on him. 

-Even if you decide the destination, you best believe you're never paying when he's around. 

-He doesn't even have to be the richest guy ever, Bucky will always come through.

-Flowers every other time you meet him.

-“I didn't know which ones you'd prefer today so I got them all” type of deal.

-Opens doors for you.

-Closes them after you.

-He has you so spoiled that you often need a reality check in your treatment of others, lmfao.

-Doesn't do casual. Because wtf even is that? 

-Picks you up on dates. 

-Kinda old school in his treatment of you. Not that he is a sexist degenerate who infanfantilizes you in such a way that you're not capable of taking care of yourself or don't have a brain. Rather, because you're his little Princess and you only deserve the best. Which, if you let him, he would be happy to give you everything he has got.

-Glad to help if you need to be babied sometimes because life is too much to handle.

-“Real men take care of things” so he does. 

-Not toxic masculinity though. 

-So wholesome and thoughtful it will make you tear up.

-Takes note and care of the smallest things. 

-Coddles you like you're the most precious thing to ever step foot on this earth.

-Blue eyes watch you so fondly ardently it'll make your tummy flutter. 

-A gentle smile on his face as he cups your pretty face with his metal hand to wipe the drop or spec of food that smudged your face. 

-Always hovering behind you if you're doing something dangerous like working a stove or changing a lightbulb.  

-“Give it here” if a knife is too sharp, you're not using it. Not in his presence anyhow.

-Happy to help no matter what it is. 

-Brushes your hair if you're too lazy or tired.

-Has done it in the morning at times when you are busy dozing off even after washing up with his help.

-Prefers to keep you tucked inside his arms whenever he can. 

-Gets a little chilly, starts wrapping you up in sweaters and mufflers and beanies. 

-If it's too hot, then he will make sure you are hydrated and comfortable at all times. 

-You are never sitting on the ground, hard no. Even if you're having a picnic in a park. Princess sits on his lap.

-Grandpasplaining things to you, sorry.

-Will lecture you if you're overindulging in something and on the path to harm.

-Very hard for him to be mad at you but you overworking yourself does it for him.

-Didn't get as much time as Steve to really socialize himself with the new world and new generation so there are some things he's old-school about but is willing to learn so he can communicate better with you. 

-Nothing is above you and everything is below you. 

-Carries you around like a little baby because his little Princess deserves nothing but the utmost spoiling. You don't mind. 

-Go to girls night out driver.

-Mostly because he's the only boyfriend who doesn't complain.

-Your girlfriends get too fond of your hot old man when they're tipsy and Bucky sighs as he shakes his head, muttering something about silly kids as he drives them all home one by one.

-You don't get to go home though.

-Because who will help you recover from your hangover? Who will make sure you don't wake up sick in the middle of the night? Or if you need something?

-Writes you cards and letters, they're an integral part of him expressing his love.

-Will take matters into his own hands if you're being careless with yourself or too picky with your nutrients.

-Accompanies you to your ‘kiddie’ concerts where he often complains about how they don't make good music anymore. Grumpy face. Some people move away from you two because of his stature and meanie face. It's an advantage though, gives you two your own space to dance and sing along in. 

-You have to basically drag him there but he he will never spoil your fun. 

-Will furrow his eyebrows and get a little possessive if you become a bit too silly with your friends though, he's still your lover. 

-Since he heals faster and feels less pain, Bucky is the one who carries your pouty ass back to the car from the arena and rubs your sore feet at home.

-Tells you all about the parts of his past life that he's fond of. Which also includes the things he liked/likes.

-Struggles with tech and huffs when you giggle and help your old man out. 

-Calls himself your old man sometimes. 

-Kinda conservative so he panics if you get too bold since he kinda associates innocence with you as you're so young and haven't lived half the kind of life he has lived. But you're a naughty little minx sometimes. You can't help it though, he's too hot and too good.

-But do not be fooled.

-He's a gentleman in the streets, and a beast in the sheets. 

-Once the wolf is out…

-He doesn't go down easy.

-That aside, Bucky is your human shield against the world, honestly.

-Always happy to advise.

-Loves it when you include him in your troubles.

-Never wants you to make the same mistakes as him.

-Does his best to protect you in every way he can.

[yusume-the-writer]

Homemade dinner and a bouquet of flowers

Orter Mádl x GN Reader

Gender: Fluff

Warning: Mention of house arrest

This one-short references @dabi-drift ,thank you very much for giving me permission

 Summary: Orter returns home, and halfway through, he ends up receiving a bouquet of flowers from a sweet lady as thanks. Upon arriving, he didn't expect that the human without magic who is under house arrest in his house would make dinner for him

The Desert Cane, Orter Mádl, was walking home with a bouquet of flowers in one of his arms...

 Well, this can be explained

 During a patrol, he ended up saving an elderly woman from a robbery. The lady owned a flower shop and gave Orter this bouquet of flowers as thanks.

 "Thank you very much, young man, for helping me in that situation" the lady says while walking next to Orter

 "I don't need thanks, I did what was necessary and correct for justice" Orter says while accompanying the lady to her home

 Arriving at the residence, which also happened to be the lady's flower shop, she starts going through her bag to find the keys.

 "Don't be like that young man, I want to thank you properly..." the lady says as she manages to find the keys and unlocks the door

 "Come in, I can make you dinner to say thanks" the lady says as she turns to find the very quiet boy

 And see him staring at a certain set of flowers

 “Young man?” the lady says, breaking Orter out of his thoughts

 "Yes. I'm sorry I wasn't listening..." Orter says he is looking at the lady and adjusting his glasses

 "Ho, no need to apologize" the lady says while placing a hand "However, you seem to like these flowers very much"

 "No, and that was just thinking" Orter lies, he can't tell an unknown lady that these flowers remind him of someone inside his house under house arrest

 "Don't lie, young man, I know when there's something in your thoughts, or rather someone, hehehe~" the lady says as she enters the store and picks up the flowers that Orter was looking at and starts making a bouquet

 "Here" Orter says as he gives the lady the exact amount of money to pay for the bouquet

 "Oh, no need, that's a thank you, since if you take too long, maybe your loved one might get worried. Now go home" the lady says while returning the money and handing over the bouquet

Without letting Desert Cane refute it, the lady had already kicked him out of her flower shop, leaving him outside with a bouquet.

 Remembering the previous event, Orter continued walking home

 When you arrive at the door of your residence, Orter takes the utmost care not to damage the flowers, takes your keys and unlocks the door.

 Upon opening the door, Orter is faced with an unforgettable scene.

 A person without magic called (Name) (Surname) with a yellow apron is preparing the dinner table facing The Desert Cane Orter Mádl

 "...What are you doing?" Orter says while walking towards (Name)

 "Can't you see? I'm preparing the table" (Name) says as they places a plate of salad on the table

 Orter just looked at them , wanting to know why they were preparing the table.

 Noticing Orter's look, (Name) says, "Mister Ryoh called me asking if everything was ok, since you seemed grumpier than usual, so as a way to improve your mood, I decided to make dinner" (Name) says while cleaning your hands on your apron and completely turning your body to face him, until they notice the bouquet "Why do you have a bouquet of flowers?"

 "I helped a lady along the way, and as a 'Thank You' she gave me the bouquet," Orter says as he hands the bouquet to (Name) who happily accepts

 "Surprising, and these are my favorites" (Name) says as they go towards the kitchen and put the flowers in a glass of water

'I know' was what Orter would say but would never admit

 (Name) returns to the living room now with the bouquet in a vase and places it in the center of the dining table

 "There! Now it's perfect" (Name) says with a childish glow

 'Cute' Orter think

 "Now try it" (Name) says while pushing Orter to sit on one of the chairs

 Orter sat down and then waited for (Name) to sit down too so they could have dinner together.

 "It's not poisoned" (Name) says randomly as they wait for him to put some food on her plate

 "...Why did you just say that?" Orter says while looking at them with the same dull expression.

 "You're kind of staring at the food and stuff... and I thought you thought it was poisoned..."

 "It is impossible to be poisoned; there is no item that could be used to cause poisoning, given the fact that you are prohibited from leaving this house, and even if there were, I would be able to use a healing spell"

 "Then why don't you eat the dinner I made?"

 "..." Orter continues to stare at (Name) hoping they get the hint

 "If you don't want to and just talk, I can -"

 "I'm waiting for you to sit down so we can eat," Orter deciding to put some of his pride aside and finally deciding to say what was on his mind

 "Oh, right!!" (Name) finally gets the hint to sit in front of Orter

 "Have dinner~" (Name) says, clapping their hands and starting to pick up the food

 "... Have dinner." Orter repeats the same words and also starts to pick up the food

 As he put the first bite of dinner into his mouth, Orter couldn't lie, the dinner was delicious.

 "It's good" Orter says as he continues to eat

 "Heh~ I know that, and besides, I was the amazing (Name) (Last name) who did it!" (Name) says proudly

 "Hm..." Orter wouldn't say, but he wouldn't mind coming home early just to have dinner with (Name)

 And that night, Orter understood the concept of a pleasant dinner

BONUS:

 "Here!" (Name) exclaimed, holding a lunch box in front of Orter who was ready to leave

 "...What?" Orter speaks while facing (Name) and then facing the lunch box

 "I made a lot of food while making dinner, so I decided to leave half of it for your lunch, so you're not grumpier than usual and leave your employees alone" (Name) speaks without a hint of fear of being killed by Orter

 "Sigh, ok" Orter says as he accepts the lunch that (Name) made for him

 "Hehe~ have a good job, Orter!" (Name) says when they sees Orter leaving the front door to work

 Orter Mádl would never admit it, but his favorite food is food made by (Name)