#he’s like stranded on an island somewhere

[ariadnes-elixirs]

thinking about a yandere forgotten god...

(male yandere x gn mercenary reader)

part 1

tw: manipulative behavior, reader was lost at sea before the story began, reader also has self-worth issues

you felt soft, cool hands shaking you awake. your head felt like it was full of cotton, but you could faintly hear a masculine voice excitedly speaking, "good morning! sorry to wake you up, but i can't have you dying on your first day here!"

as you feel yourself waking up, you try to rack your brain to figure out how you got in this situation. you slowly become aware of the sand beneath your body and the feeling of waves ebbing and flowing near your legs. are you... on a beach?

you struggle to open your eyes, but you can feel those same hands prop you up into a sitting position. you feel a cool hand against your forehead, and you lean into the hand before you can stop yourself.

you hear the voice again, "you poor thing! you're burning up!" the voice sounded concerned, but through your muffled hearing you could also make out concealed... excitement?

you feel one arm move to support your back and another underneath your knees. you begin trying to open your eyes again, and as you do you can feel yourself being lifted off of the sandy beach. the voice pipes up again, "let me bring you inside! it's been so long since someone has washed up on my island!"

as you finally muster up the strength to open your eyes, you see the source of the voice you've been hearing and the person carrying you. he's a taller man with a dark, tanned complexion. he has long hair, with some strands styled into braids and gold adornments scattered throughout. one notable feature that stood out to you was golden, almost inhuman looking eyes.

a sudden wave of fatigue overwhelms you, as you feel the desire to sleep grow. you try to force yourself to stay awake, but you can only delay the inevitable for so long as your exhaustion catches up to you.

the person carrying you is still muttering, whether he's talking to you or himself is unclear, but it slowly fades out as you lose consciousness.

~

you wake up to a faint floral scent and the feeling of a soft, plush bed. you feel the silken sheets beneath you, nicer and cleaner than anything you've slept in within the past several years, possibly even your whole life. your head is resting on a downy, fluffy pillow, almost moulding to the shape of your head as you lay there.

during your years as a traveler and mercenary, you have become accustomed to the rough and scratchy sheets, rock-hard pillows, and damp musty rooms in whatever inn you could scrounge up enough coins to stay in.

you vaguely remember taking a job as a guard on a merchant's ship, but struggle to remember how you ended up in a bed that was definitely too nice to be something you belong in.

as your sleepy mind is processing as much as it can in your tired state, you hear footsteps approaching.

you start moving your arms and legs to sit up in the bed as you hear the voice from before. "oh! you're awake! i made some food for you, i'll be right back!!" followed by the sound hurried footsteps leaving whatever room you're in.

as you finally sit up and open your eyes, you start to take in the room you've found yourself in. it almost looks like... a cave? the walls are rocky and uneven, but still covered in ivy and lush vegetation. there are pieces of furniture you would expect to see in a normal bedroom, but there are also flowerpots all over the room, each filled with plants and flowers you've never seen before. you also notice a couple... bird nests? just... where are you?

you didn't even know who brought you here or how you ended up here. something about this situation felt off to you, and you start to process that this is somewhere you should not be and definitely don't belong.

suddenly you hear the sound of footsteps rushing back towards you and as he enters the room you can finally get a good look at the person who brought you away from the shore.

you vaguely remember seeing his dark skin and hair with gold pieces in it before, but you didn't remember much else. you immediately notice his clean, white clothes. which is typically impossible to attain and then maintain by people who have to dirty their hands for a living. a piece of fabric is draped over his shoulder, but most of his chest appears to be exposed. in addition to his hair adornments, his ears, arms, and neck are all covered in gold accessories. you also didn't notice just how long his hair was, reaching down to the middle of his back. you can tell that it is very well maintained and taken care of.

he walks over to you, carrying a tray of food. he smiles at you before stating "i found you washed up on shore, but i couldn't let you just lay there. you appeared ill when i found you, so you should definitely eat something healthy and rest as much as possible while you recover."

he places the tray of food on your lap as you process his words, "...thank you," you reply, "but... why would you help me?"

"well... it's not every day someone washes up on the my island's shores!" he giggles.

you think momentarily before replying, "so... how often does this happen?"

the question appears to catch him off guard, and his smile falters for a second as he looks away. "well... uh... this is... it's probably been... a couple hundred years, actually."

you process his response and start to pay closer attention to the feeling of unease thats been steadily growing within you as you interacted with the stranger.

if he was telling the truth, that would make him some kind of immortal being. a nymph? a god?

you were just some mercenary looking to make a living, and you certainly weren't strong enough to take on any kind of immortal. you feel more uncertainty creep in, there's no way he would actually care about some mercenary... he's... this has to be a trap, right?

he seems to notice your unease and anxiety regarding your current situation. he sighs gently and looks at the floor, "look, i know this must be scary for you. first being lost at sea and then washing up on some strange island. but... i really do want to help you," he smiles, "please, just let me take care of you, at least until you recover."

you still feel unsure, but what could you do? he has already helped you, he brought you into his... house... and let you sleep in his clean bed. which is... more than some mercenary deserves already...

you slowly shift your gaze down to the food on the tray he set on your lap. soup, bread, and some chicken. you pick up the spoon sitting next to the soup, submerge it in the soup, and sluggishly bring it to your lips.

it's... the best soup you've ever tasted.

he smiles at you as you eat and suddenly you remember you never asked for his name. "so uh, who exactly are... you?" you ask.

he giggles, "no one you would know, but i suppose humans do love their little names for things. now that i'm not alone anymore, maybe having a name would be a nice change of pace."

his word choice suggests the length of your stay will likely be... longer than you would have anticipated. but it's too late, he's definitely not going to let you go. he finally has someone to talk to, spend time with, embrace, love. why would he let this opportunity pass him by?

"you can call me cal, dear~" he chuckles to himself before continuing, "now eat up before your meal gets cold~"

a/n: yeah so he is definitely inspired by calypso from the odyssey eoriskwksla. i thought it would be a neat concept, especially if the person on the island did not have a significant other. he genuinely just wants to be around another person after being cursed and then forgotten after hundreds of years. he is super soft and sweet towards you though. however in classic yandere fashion, he also intends to make sure you never leave :)

[lexcat-11]

c!Aimsey spiritfarer au do you see the vision

she’s star themed, symbolically is the sun, relates to the fact almost everyone they met is either a ghost, an animal, or animal adjacent, and their whole story is about accepting grief. Do you see the vision!!!

[arolesbianism]

Euphrasie vc haiiii Claudie can you help me with something real quick ^w^ (<- visibly trembling because one of her circle wall ornaments keeps looking smudged to her no matter how much she wipes is and it's now 3 am and shes been at it for the past 6 hours)

[loveharlow]

headcanon for jayj😜

s3x when they were at pougelandia and the pougies catching them

idk why but this has been on my mind sorry if this is weird

SEX IN POGUELANDIA

smut/mentions of smut, 18+

•° not discreet. at all.

•° you'd been stranded on the island for weeks and you didn't think not having sex would bother you but...

•° something about this island made jj ten times sexier

•° and he was ungodly sexy before.

•° you two had been trying to keep it pg, considering you were out in the jungle and surrounded by all your friends

•° but when the opportunity reveals itself, who were y'all not to take it?

•° the group had split up in pairs, going to look for food or fresh water, anything to aid survival, really

•° you and jj happened to stumble across a beautiful waterfall, like stunning scenery + water? what could be better??

•° the both of you bottled up some of the clear liquid before jumping in, the water cleansing your dirt-caked bodies almost immediately

"is it bad that i kind of want to stay here? it's so beautiful..."

•° then he's behind you in the water, whispering in your ear

"i can think of something more beautiful than this."

•° and normally, you'd laugh at his flirting but the words and his breath on your neck sent a chill down your spine that settled...somewhere else

•° before you know it, you were both butt naked and dripping wet, fucking on the most uncomfortable rock known to man

•° it was probably the most dumb teenage idea you'd ever had - unprotected, outdoor sex while stranded on an island

•° but after weeks of barely touching or anything, you were both bursting at the seams for some kind of intimacy

•° you didn't even realize how loud you were being...the both of you.

"oh...fuck, jj!"

"i know, baby, i know..."

•° you'd have a village of small cuts and bruises on your back later but it was all worth it for the feeling of him spilling inside you as your walls contracted around him

•°...which probably wasn't the best idea either

•° jj was still inside of and on top of you when you heard them

"dude, what the fuck?!"

"are you guys serious? this is supposed to be an expedition! not a free porno service for whatever birds and shit are out here!"

•° you and JJ cursed, laughing and scooting away from each other as you covered yourselves and looked for your clothes, still getting scolded by the rest of the group

"you probably just alerted bears and shit to where we are, you freaks!"

©loveharlow.

heads up: i added emoji anons to my blog, so feel free to send an ask to take one if you frequently send in asks!

[lvmoure]

His Five Love Language CS55

Pairings: Carlos Sainz x reader

Summary: Carlos Sainz and his five love languages during your vacation in Bora Bora with him.

Warnings: none, pure fluff

A/N: follow me on Wattpad: Snxzlvr

Words of Affirmation

The sky is painted in shades of pink and gold as the sun dips slowly below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the sparkling turquoise water. The air is humid and fragrant, tinged with the scent of blooming hibiscus and the salty breeze from the ocean. You lean back into the soft white sand, the coolness beneath you a welcome contrast to the day’s warmth, and beside you, Carlos is lying on his side, propped up on one elbow, watching you with that warm, unwavering gaze that’s become so familiar.

“You know, I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of looking at you like this,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper, yet laced with a kind of intensity that makes your heart skip.

You laugh softly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “You’ve been staring at me for the past five minutes. I was starting to wonder if I had something on my face.”

He reaches out, brushing a thumb gently along your cheek, his touch feather-light. “No, no. No imperfections. Just… you. Even the way your eyes catch the light here, it’s like they were made to reflect these sunsets.”

The sincerity in his tone makes you pause. You’ve heard compliments from him before, of course, but tonight there’s something more. Something that feels deeply honest, like he’s been holding these thoughts inside and they’re finally spilling out under the soft glow of the island sunset.

“Carlos…” you begin, your cheeks warming under his gaze, “you’re going to spoil me with all these compliments.”

He grins, that mischievous spark flashing in his eyes. “Is that so bad? I want you to feel spoiled. You deserve it,” he says, taking your hand and lacing his fingers through yours. “Every word I say is true, you know. Even if you think I’m just being cheesy.”

Your thumb traces circles over his hand, grounding you as he speaks, because something about the way he’s looking at you feels… monumental. As if, for Carlos, seeing you here like this has cemented something unspoken between you both.

“You know,” he continues, gazing out over the water for a moment, as if gathering his thoughts, “I’m not sure if I say it enough. But…you make me feel like I’ve found something rare. Something I didn’t even know I was looking for.”

The words settle over you like the gentle waves lapping at the shore. It’s more than a compliment; it’s an admission, one that seems to come from somewhere deep within him. You squeeze his hand, leaning closer as you both sink further into this rare, quiet moment.

“Do you remember,” he asks suddenly, “that time in Barcelona when we got completely lost looking for that restaurant?” He chuckles, his eyes crinkling at the memory. “We must have walked for miles. And I was so sure I knew the way.”

You laugh, nodding. “You were absolutely certain. And yet, every turn was the wrong one.”

Carlos laughs, the sound rich and full, echoing into the quiet evening. “Yes, every turn was wrong, but the whole time, you never complained once. Not once. And I thought…” He pauses, running a hand through his hair, his gaze softening. “I thought, who else would be this patient with me? Who else would laugh and say, ‘It’s okay, Carlos, we’ll find it eventually,’ even when I clearly had no idea where we were?”

His voice lowers, and he lifts your hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to your fingers. “You make me feel like no matter how lost I am, I’ll find my way. Because I have you.”

The words settle deep within you, and for a moment, you’re at a loss for words. Carlos’s honesty, the way he speaks straight from his heart—it’s overwhelming in the best possible way. And as he continues to hold your gaze, you can see the sincerity behind every word.

“Carlos…” you finally say, your voice barely above a whisper, “that means more than you know.”

He gives you a small, almost shy smile. “Good. Because I don’t think I could ever say it enough.”

You spend the next few moments in comfortable silence, the sound of the waves filling the space between you. The sky has grown darker now, the stars beginning to blink into view, scattered like diamonds across the inky blue canvas. The world feels like it’s shrinking, just you and Carlos here on this beach, wrapped in each other’s presence.

Carlos shifts slightly, leaning in closer until his face is just inches from yours. “Do you know what else I love about you?” he asks softly, his voice a low murmur.

You raise an eyebrow, smiling. “I have a feeling you’re about to tell me.”

He laughs, shaking his head. “I am. But it’s true. I love the way you’re so… kind to everyone around you. I’ve seen the way you go out of your way to make people feel comfortable, even when you’re tired, or when you think no one’s watching. You’re… you’re just good, in a way I can’t quite explain.” His gaze meets yours, earnest and open. “And I admire that. More than I can put into words.”

You feel a warmth spreading through you at his words, a kind of glow that makes you feel seen and valued in a way that’s rare. “Thank you, Carlos,” you whisper, reaching up to brush a stray lock of hair from his forehead. “I don’t think anyone’s ever told me that before.”

“Well, they should have,” he says, a little defensively, before his expression softens. “I just… I want you to know, I see all these things about you. And I love every single one of them.”

He leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, and then another to the tip of your nose, his touch soft and tender. “You have no idea how much you mean to me,” he murmurs against your skin.

As the night deepens, Carlos continues to open up, sharing memories and thoughts he’s never told anyone else. With every word, he paints a picture of his admiration, his respect, and his deep affection for you, his words wrapping around you like a warm blanket, making you feel cherished and adored.

And as he holds you there, under the starlit sky, you realize that this—these words of affirmation, his open and honest love—is a gift you never knew you needed.

Quality Time

The soft rustle of palm leaves fills the air as you step barefoot onto the wooden deck of the bungalow, your eyes squinting slightly from the warm glow of the morning sun. The turquoise waters of Bora Bora stretch out endlessly, lapping gently against the shore, and the quiet hum of the island seems to slow time itself.

Carlos is standing at the railing of the deck, looking out over the water, his back to you. The sunlight catches the strands of his hair, turning them to gold as he turns his head and smiles when he hears your footsteps.

“Good morning,” he says, his voice deep, a touch raspy from sleep. “I was wondering when you’d wake up. Thought I’d let you sleep in.”

You stretch, feeling the slight ache in your muscles from the day before, but it’s a welcome sensation, a reminder of how much you’ve walked, how much you’ve laughed, how much you’ve shared with Carlos in these first few days.

The island has a way of making you feel like time slows down. Like every minute here is yours, and yours alone.

“I needed that sleep,” you admit, smiling back at him. You step closer to the railing, standing beside him and taking in the sight of the vibrant lagoon, the corals shimmering beneath the surface of the water.

Carlos reaches out, resting a hand on your back, a small, grounding gesture that makes you feel safe, settled, and content. “I’m glad. You deserve it.”

For a few moments, neither of you speaks. You simply take in the serenity of the place, the waves gently crashing against the shore, the scent of saltwater filling the air. You can’t remember the last time you felt so… peaceful. There are no deadlines, no obligations, just the endless beauty of the world around you and the person standing beside you.

“So,” Carlos says after a while, breaking the silence. He turns to face you, a playful glint in his eyes. “What do you want to do today? No plans, no schedules. Just you and me. I figured we could enjoy the whole day, no rush.”

The thought of spending the whole day with him, uninterrupted and unhurried, fills you with a quiet thrill. It’s rare—especially with his busy schedule—that you get this kind of undivided attention. And somehow, it feels like the perfect opportunity to really connect with him.

“I don’t know,” you muse, looking out at the horizon for a moment. “Maybe we could go snorkeling? Or take one of those boat tours?”

Carlos raises an eyebrow, glancing over at you. “I like the idea of snorkeling, but I think it might be better if we just… let the day unfold. What do you think?”

You smile, already feeling the warmth of his enthusiasm. He has a way of making everything sound exciting, even the simplest of ideas. You nod, feeling the peacefulness of the island seep into you.

“Let’s just see where the day takes us,” you agree.

He grins widely, his eyes lighting up. “Now you’re speaking my language.”

The next few hours unfold in the most effortless way, the two of you moving in tandem, like a dance. You start with a leisurely breakfast on the deck, with fresh fruits, croissants, and tropical juices. Carlos keeps you laughing, telling stories from his childhood, recounting the time he tried (and failed) to make his first attempt at cooking a meal for his family.

“I swear, I thought it was a good idea at the time, besides I was just 9 or 8 years old that time,” he says, shaking his head, a laugh escaping him. “I had everything ready—the pasta, the sauce, everything. But somehow, I managed to burn the pasta, over-salt the sauce, and even the salad was soggy. I think it was the most tragic dinner in family history.”

You chuckle, imagining the scene. “What did your family do?”

“My dad… well, let’s just say he’s a man of few words,” Carlos explains, shaking his head with a wry smile. “He took one bite and said, ‘Carlos, you’re a great driver, but cooking is not your forte.’”

You laugh harder, the sound of it echoing in the quiet morning.

“You’re lucky he was so patient with you,” you tease. “Most parents would have been horrified.”

“I don’t know,” Carlos says, leaning back in his chair, his hand resting on the edge of the table. “I think my mom was just relieved when I started getting good at something. I’m pretty sure she still talks about it to this day, just to remind me how I was, uh, not the best in the kitchen.”

You smile at the image of his family, the warmth in his voice as he speaks about them making you feel even closer to him. And as the conversation flows effortlessly from topic to topic, you realize how rare it is to have this kind of ease with someone—to just be present in the moment without the pressure of external distractions.

After breakfast, you both decide to take a walk along the beach, your feet sinking into the soft sand with every step. The island feels endless, its beauty unmatched, and for the first time in a long while, you feel like you have all the time in the world.

Carlos takes your hand, his fingers gently intertwining with yours. “This is perfect,” he murmurs, his voice low and content. “Just us. No rush. No one else to think about.”

You nod in agreement, your hand squeezing his. “I couldn’t agree more. I’ve never felt so… at peace. I could stay here forever.”

For a moment, Carlos is quiet, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. He looks down at your intertwined hands, his expression softening. “I’m glad we’re here. With everything that’s happened this year, I just wanted some time to really be with you. No distractions. Just us.”

You smile up at him, your heart swelling at his words. You’ve always admired his focus and determination, but in this moment, you see a side of him that’s rarely exposed—a side that craves simplicity and connection.

And that connection deepens as the day unfolds. You spend hours swimming in the warm, crystal-clear waters, exploring the coral reefs and laughing as fish of every color swim past you. Carlos is more than just a partner here; he’s your guide, showing you the beauty of the world through his eyes.

Later, as you both lay on a hammock by the water, wrapped in towels, he turns to you with a soft smile. “You know, I could never get bored of this,” he says, his voice steady and content. “Spending time with you like this… it’s all I ever need.”

You look at him, your heart beating a little faster, and realize, with perfect clarity, that this is what matters most. No distractions, no noise, just the two of you, immersed in the simple, quiet moments that create a bond deeper than anything words could describe.

As the sun begins to set, painting the sky in shades of orange and purple, you and Carlos sit in comfortable silence, watching the colors shift across the horizon. Every moment feels like it’s suspended in time, a beautiful snapshot of the life you’re building together.

For once, nothing else matters—only the shared moments between you, as if the whole world has faded away, leaving just you and him, side by side, in this perfect corner of the earth.

“This day… this whole trip,” Carlos says, his voice breaking the silence, “I want to remember it forever. Because it’s us. Just us, without anything else.”

You rest your head on his shoulder, feeling the warmth of his presence and the weight of his words. “I’ll remember it too,” you whisper. “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”

And for the rest of the evening, you remain there, together—no rush, no expectations, just the two of you, fully immersed in each other’s company, sharing a bond that feels as timeless and deep as the ocean that surrounds you.

Physical touch

The sun is high in the sky, casting its golden glow over the sparkling turquoise waters of Bora Bora, the waves gently kissing the soft sand at the shore. You’re lounging on the beach, the warmth of the sun sinking into your skin, with the sound of distant laughter and the occasional seagull overhead. Beside you, Carlos sits close, his presence a constant, the easy comfort of his hand resting on the small of your back. Even in this paradise, there’s no escaping the magnetic pull between you two—the connection that, at times, feels like it could burn the very air you breathe.

Carlos’s fingers move in slow circles against your skin, an absent gesture as he watches the water, but you can feel it—the heat of his touch. It’s like a constant reminder of his closeness, of his attention, and of the fact that, in this moment, you belong to him, as much as he belongs to you.

You shift slightly, turning to face him. The soft breeze ruffles his hair, and there’s a faint trace of salt in the air. His gaze flickers to you, a glint of something playful in his eyes. "Is it just me, or does this place keep getting better every time I look at you?"

You chuckle, rolling your eyes affectionately. "Carlos, you’re terrible. Complimenting me every few minutes." You say it in jest, but his hands are still there—soft, warm, secure—and it sends a flutter through you.

He shrugs, unfazed. "Can’t help it. I’ve got a lot to say. You’re a distraction, you know? I can't think of anything else when you're around."

You laugh again, brushing the hair out of your face, but something in the air shifts. It’s as if the world knows this moment belongs to the two of you, and for the first time today, you notice the group of young men a few meters away, standing under the shade of a large umbrella, trying to catch your eye. They’re talking and laughing among themselves, but their glances flick towards you every so often, their gazes lingering longer than they should.

Carlos notices too.

The mood changes subtly, but it’s enough for you to sense the tension in his posture, the tightening of his jaw, the way his hand shifts from your back to your thigh, resting there with possessive certainty. He leans slightly closer to you, his lips brushing against your ear as he murmurs, “Don’t even think about looking at them. They’re not worth your attention.”

You glance over at him, raising an eyebrow in amusement. “Carlos, we’re on vacation. They’re just… admiring the view.”

His hand moves, his thumb brushing lightly along the inside of your knee, a soft, but deliberate gesture that sends a shiver through you. “I don’t care about that,” he says, his voice low and controlled, a hint of possessiveness lacing his words. “I don’t want anyone else looking at you. You’re mine.”

The heat in his words sparks something in you, a deeper pull, a desire for more of his attention. His touch, even casual, holds an intensity that makes your pulse quicken. You look at him now, your gaze meeting his, and for a moment, time slows. There’s no one else on this beach, no other sound, just the two of you and the magnetic force that binds you together.

"Is that how you feel?" you ask quietly, your voice barely above a whisper, but the challenge is there in your eyes.

He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he leans in closer, his lips brushing against your temple as his hand moves from your knee up to the curve of your waist. His fingers graze the exposed skin beneath your tank top, a touch so light it might have been an accident, yet it sends sparks to every nerve in your body.

“I can’t keep my hands off you,” he admits, his breath warm against your skin. “You’ve got me completely tangled up in you.”

Before you can respond, one of the beach boys—one of the group eyeing you earlier—takes a step closer, a broad grin on his face as he confidently approaches. He’s dressed casually, his sunglasses perched on his nose, his stance easy and relaxed. “Hey there,” he says, his voice smooth and clearly directed at you, a little too forward for your liking. “Having a good day?”

Carlos’s hand tightens at your side, his fingers pressing more firmly into your waist as he shifts, subtly, to place himself between you and the newcomer. The move is so effortless, so smooth, it feels almost like a shield. His posture straightens, a slight tension in his body signaling that he’s aware of the intrusion, aware of the potential threat.

The beach boy doesn't miss it. His smile falters just a bit, but he doesn’t back off. “I was just making sure you’re okay, you know? Bora Bora is a paradise, but you can always use some good company.”

Carlos doesn't even look at him. His hand on your waist subtly pulls you closer, his palm sliding down to your hip as he presses his body against yours. It’s an unspoken statement—one that makes it clear you’re not available for anyone else’s attention.

You glance at Carlos, raising an eyebrow at his territorial display. “Carlos,” you say, a little amused, but your voice drops slightly as his hand slides down the curve of your back, guiding you even closer to him. The physical closeness sends a spark of heat through you.

He looks down at you, his lips curling into a smirk as he pulls you slightly tighter against him. “What? Don’t you like me taking care of you?” His words are light, but his eyes hold a possessive edge, a fire that is unmistakable.

The beach boy, noticing the subtle shift in the air, decides it’s time to back off, retreating with a muttered “Sorry, didn’t mean to intrude.” You don’t need to look to know that Carlos has already won this silent battle, and the stranger is well aware of it.

As the young man moves away, Carlos’s grip loosens on you, but only just enough for you to breathe. His hand slides from your waist to your back again, his fingers gentle as they trace up your spine. The touch is soft, almost reverent, but it still feels like an anchor. It feels like he’s marking you—claiming you, even in the most subtle of ways.

“You’re mine,” he repeats, as if needing to remind you. His voice, low and steady, holds a tenderness now, an intimacy that only you understand. “I don’t care about anyone else, especially not them.”

You’re quiet for a moment, soaking in the intensity of his words, the heat of his touch. “You’re very possessive, you know that?”

Carlos looks down at you, his expression softening for a second, before that familiar spark returns to his eyes. “I don’t apologize for it. I don’t want anyone else getting close to you. You’re too precious to me.”

His lips find yours then, urgent, possessive, and hungry. His hand moves to cup the back of your neck, pulling you deeper into the kiss as his other hand slides to your hip. He doesn’t care who’s watching now. His lips taste yours with an intensity that takes your breath away, as if he’s determined to imprint this moment, this feeling, onto your very soul.

When you finally pull away, breathless, you see the raw, honest emotion in his eyes. There’s no holding back now, no pretending. He’s laid bare before you—his need, his desire, his love—and in return, you give him everything. You place your hands on his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heart, knowing that this connection between you is unshakable.

“You’re right,” you whisper, leaning in again to kiss the corner of his mouth, the soft stubble grazing your lips. “I am yours.”

Carlos’s eyes darken at your words, and he pulls you into another kiss, deeper this time, his hands sliding over your body with a sense of urgency that makes you dizzy. You feel him, all of him, every inch of his body pressed against yours, his hands roaming with a possessiveness that sends waves of heat flooding through you.

When he pulls away, just enough to look you in the eyes, he says, his voice thick with desire, “Don’t forget it.”

And as the sun sets over the horizon, painting the sky in hues of pink and orange, you can’t help but feel the weight of his words settle into your heart. In this moment, you belong to him, and he belongs to you. And nothing—nothing at all—will ever change that.

Acts of Service

The golden hues of sunset spill across the horizon, painting the sky in shades of pink, orange, and purple as you sit on the edge of the patio, your legs tucked beneath you, overlooking the lush greenery and the tranquil waters. Bora Bora, with its endless beauty, has become a backdrop for you and Carlos—an idyllic paradise where time feels like it stands still, and the world outside the two of you simply ceases to matter.

You’ve spent the day exploring the island, hiking through its hidden trails, laughing at the little things along the way—like when Carlos, in his infinite charm, slipped on a rock while trying to show off his balance. You both had laughed so hard that even the birds in the trees seemed to join in. But now, as the day winds down and the warmth of the sun begins to fade, a different kind of peacefulness settles over you.

Carlos, as always, is attuned to your every need, like a quiet force of nature that never tires of making you feel cared for. He’s always been this way—the kind of man who listens to your smallest requests and sees to them without hesitation. And today, just like every other day in Bora Bora, that care has been both subtle and constant.

You lean back into the lounge chair, closing your eyes, letting the warmth of the air wrap around you like a soft blanket. You’re almost lulled into a sense of serenity when you hear Carlos’s voice behind you, warm and steady, as he approaches.

“Are you comfortable?” he asks, his voice full of concern, though his tone is casual, like it’s second nature to make sure you’re okay.

You nod, smiling as you open your eyes and meet his gaze. There he stands, looking as effortlessly handsome as always, his hair tousled from the wind, a soft smile playing at his lips. But it’s not his smile or his appearance that catches your attention—no, it’s the way his gaze lingers on you, his eyes scanning you as if you’re something precious, something worthy of his time.

“I’m great,” you reply, the sincerity in your voice echoing the calm contentment that’s washed over you. “This place is perfect. And so are you, for making everything feel so effortless.”

Carlos grins at your compliment, his eyes lighting up with that trademark charm of his. He steps closer, pausing for a moment before kneeling down beside you, his hands moving to adjust the cushion under your head, making sure you’re perfectly comfortable. It’s the little things like this that remind you of how attentive he is—how much he values your comfort, your happiness.

“You’re sure you’re comfortable?” he asks again, his hands gently shifting the fabric of the cushion beneath you. “You’ve been walking all day, and I don’t want you to end up sore tomorrow.”

You reach up to place your hand over his, your touch a silent reassurance. “I’m fine, Carlos. You don’t need to keep checking on me.”

His lips curl into a smile, but his concern doesn’t waver. “I know, but I can’t help it. You deserve to be pampered, especially on a vacation like this.” His voice is soft, sincere, like he means every word. “If there’s anything you need, you just say the word.”

You feel a wave of affection wash over you as you look into his eyes, feeling the care and thoughtfulness radiating from him. His words aren’t just polite—they’re genuine. Carlos has always been the kind of person who finds joy in taking care of others, in making them feel special. It’s the mark of a true gentleman, and you’ve always admired it about him.

Before you can respond, Carlos rises to his feet and moves toward the small table beside the lounge chairs. He picks up the bottle of sunscreen, carefully unscrews the cap, and turns back to you with a thoughtful expression.

“Here, let me,” he says, his voice gentle but firm. There’s no room for argument in his tone, though there’s a warmth to it that makes you smile. He walks over to you with the bottle in hand and kneels in front of you, his fingers brushing lightly over your shoulders.

“You’re going to burn if you stay out here too long without sunscreen,” he warns, his voice playful but laced with concern. “I won’t let that happen to you.”

You chuckle softly, touched by his attentiveness. “Carlos, you really don’t have to…”

But he shakes his head, already uncapping the bottle and pouring a small amount into his palm. “It’s no trouble,” he reassures you, his eyes meeting yours, his touch gentle as he begins to rub the sunscreen into your shoulders and arms, his movements methodical and careful. “You’re here to relax. Let me do the work.”

You close your eyes as his hands work their magic, spreading the sunscreen over your skin with a tenderness that makes your heart flutter. The simple act of him caring for you—of him being so attuned to your well-being—fills you with a sense of calm. It’s not just the act itself, but the meaning behind it. It’s the thoughtfulness, the way he wants to make sure you’re always taken care of, even in the smallest ways.

As he finishes with your arms, he moves to your legs, gently lifting one at a time to apply the sunscreen. His hands move slowly, deliberately, with a level of care that is almost hypnotic. You can’t help but watch him, mesmerized by the ease with which he moves, the way he seems to anticipate your every need without being asked.

“You’re quiet,” Carlos observes, glancing up at you with a teasing glint in his eyes. “Are you enjoying the attention?”

You laugh softly, not able to hide the fondness in your voice. “I’ve never had someone take care of me this much before. It’s nice.”

Carlos’s expression softens, and he finishes up with your legs before sitting back on his heels. He looks up at you, his hands resting lightly on your thighs as he meets your gaze. “I like doing it,” he says, his voice quiet, almost shy in its sincerity. “I like making sure you’re happy. And when I’m with you, I want everything to be perfect.”

You smile at him, your heart swelling at his words. There’s something undeniably special about how he shows his affection—not just through words, but through actions. And in a world where words can often be hollow, his actions speak louder than anything.

“I’m really lucky to have you,” you say, your voice full of warmth and affection.

Carlos grins, his usual playfulness returning as he stands up and stretches. “You have no idea,” he teases. “But you’re lucky I’m such a gentleman. Not everyone would take such good care of you.”

You roll your eyes, but the smile tugging at the corners of your lips gives you away. “I’ll make sure to remind you of that every day.”

He chuckles, then leans down to kiss your forehead, a soft, loving gesture that takes you by surprise. His lips linger just for a moment, and then he pulls back, his hand brushing through your hair. “Just promise me you’ll let me pamper you as much as I want.”

You nod, your heart full. “I promise.”

The evening continues to unfold in the most effortless way. As the sun sets, Carlos insists on preparing dinner, despite the fact that you both could easily have just ordered in. He’s not the type to shy away from the kitchen, and it’s clear that he takes pride in making things for you. The way he moves around the small kitchen, chopping vegetables, stirring pots, and humming softly to himself as he works, reminds you of how thoughtful he truly is—how much he enjoys taking care of those he loves.

By the time dinner is ready, the table is set perfectly, with candles flickering gently in the evening breeze, casting a soft glow over the two of you. Carlos pulls out your chair for you, just like he always does, and waits for you to sit before sitting across from you with a satisfied grin.

“You’re going to love this,” he says, his eyes sparkling with pride. “I made my special pasta recipe. It’s nothing fancy, but I think you’ll appreciate the effort.”

You take a bite, and the flavors explode in your mouth, warm and rich, and you can’t help but let out a small moan of delight.

“This is incredible,” you murmur, looking up at him with admiration. “You really know how to take care of people, don’t you?”

Carlos shrugs modestly, though the pride in his eyes is impossible to hide. “It’s what I do best.”

And in that moment, as the two of you sit across from each other, the soft glow of the candles flickering between you, you realize just how much you’ve come to appreciate the small, simple gestures—the acts of service that Carlos shows you every day. It’s not just about the big, grand moments; it’s about the quiet, tender ways he takes care of you, making sure you feel loved, valued, and cherished.

“You’re amazing,” you whisper, your heart full.

Carlos reaches across the table, his hand resting over yours as he gives it a soft squeeze. “You don’t need to say anything. I’m just happy to make you happy.”

And with that, as the evening deepens and the stars begin to twinkle above, you feel the weight of his love—gentle, unwavering, and constant, like the steady rhythm of the waves lapping against the shore outside your window.

Receiving gifts

The evening sky is painted in shades of deep blue and purple, the stars beginning to twinkle like diamonds scattered across the velvet expanse above you. The air is cool, a refreshing breeze brushing against your skin as you sit on the porch of your overwater bungalow in Bora Bora, a cup of chilled coconut water in your hand. You’re staring out at the moonlit ocean, the gentle waves lapping against the stilts beneath the house, lost in the serene beauty of the moment.

Carlos is beside you, as always, but there’s a quiet intensity in his demeanor tonight. He’s been unusually thoughtful, more so than usual, and there’s a feeling that something is on the horizon—something he’s been planning, though you can’t quite place it. As if he’s trying to tell you something without words, his eyes flickering to you more often than usual, his hand occasionally brushing against yours, his touch lingering just a second longer.

“Carlos,” you ask, finally breaking the silence. “What’s on your mind?”

He looks at you then, a smile tugging at his lips, but there’s a hint of something else in his gaze—something playful, mischievous even. He leans back slightly, stretching his legs out in front of him, and with a slight smirk, he says, “Nothing much. Just thinking about how lucky I am to be here with you.”

You raise an eyebrow, skeptical. “I don’t believe you. There’s something you’re not telling me.”

Carlos chuckles, the sound rich and deep, and for a moment, he looks away, like he’s trying to figure out how to say what’s on his mind. When he finally speaks again, his voice is soft, the words coming out slowly, almost as if he’s choosing them carefully.

“I’ve been thinking about how much you’ve done for me since we’ve been together. All the little things you do without asking, the way you care for me without ever expecting anything in return. It means a lot, more than you might realize.” He pauses, turning to face you fully, his eyes meeting yours with a sincerity that makes your heart flutter. “And I wanted to show you how much it matters to me.”

You blink, surprised by his admission, unsure of what he means by this sudden wave of gratitude. “Carlos, you don’t have to do anything for me,” you say, the words spilling out before you can stop them. “I’m happy just being here with you.”

His lips curl into a smile, though there’s a glint of determination in his eyes. “I know you don’t want anything. You’re the type who never asks for things, but I want to give you something. I need to.”

Before you can protest further, he stands up and moves towards the small side table next to your chair. You watch him, confused, as he pulls a small box out from beneath it. It’s wrapped in a simple brown paper, tied with twine, nothing too extravagant, but it’s the effort that catches your attention.

“Carlos,” you begin, shaking your head gently. “You know I don’t need gifts. Really.”

He ignores you, his eyes focused on the box as he walks back toward you. When he stops in front of you, he kneels down, holding the gift out with both hands, his expression soft but firm.

“I know you don’t,” he says, his voice steady, “but I want to give this to you anyway. Please.”

You take the box from him reluctantly, your fingers brushing against his for a moment before you pull it into your lap. Carlos’s gaze doesn’t waver, his eyes locked on you with a quiet intensity, as if he’s waiting for something—the moment when you finally open the gift.

With a sigh, you untie the twine and peel back the paper, revealing a small, elegant wooden box. It’s simple, but there’s something timeless about it—something that makes you feel a sense of warmth just from looking at it. You glance at Carlos, who watches you with an almost childlike excitement, his hands resting lightly on his knees as he waits for your reaction.

Slowly, you lift the lid of the box. Inside, nestled in soft velvet, is a delicate gold necklace, the pendant shaped like a small, intricate wave. It’s beautiful—stunning, even—but it’s not the price or the elegance that catches your breath. It’s the thought behind it, the way it symbolizes the island—the water, the waves, the very essence of where you are, of this moment in time that feels so special, so perfect.

For a moment, you’re speechless, overwhelmed by the gesture. You feel a lump form in your throat, the emotions rising up unexpectedly. But you shake your head, trying to push them down.

“Carlos, I don’t know what to say,” you finally manage to whisper, looking up at him. “It’s beautiful, but I can’t accept this. You really didn’t have to do this.”

He smiles softly, leaning in closer, his hand brushing gently against your cheek. “I know you don’t want gifts. But I need you to know how much you mean to me, how much you’ve changed my life. And sometimes, the only way I can show you is with something tangible. A reminder of what you mean to me.”

His words settle deep in your chest, and for a moment, you consider arguing again—telling him that it’s too much, that you don’t need anything from him. But you know deep down that it’s not about the necklace. It’s not about the material thing. It’s about the gesture, the thought behind it, the love that it represents.

“I know you don’t need anything from me,” Carlos continues, his hand still resting against your cheek, his thumb stroking the skin there. “But I want to give you things. I want to make you feel special. Because you are.”

You stare at him for a long moment, the sincerity in his eyes washing over you like a wave. You feel that familiar pull in your chest, the warmth of his love surrounding you. Slowly, you reach for the necklace, lifting it from its box. The pendant catches the light of the stars, the subtle gold reflecting in the moonlight.

“Okay,” you finally say, your voice soft, but filled with emotion. “I’ll wear it. Because it’s from you.”

Carlos’s smile widens, a mixture of relief and happiness crossing his face. “Thank you,” he whispers, reaching out to gently fasten the necklace around your neck, his fingers brushing your skin as he does. “You look perfect.”

You feel the cool metal settle against your skin, the weight of it comforting and grounding, a symbol of your bond, of this trip, of this love that feels both fragile and eternal. As Carlos finishes securing the clasp, his hands linger on your shoulders for a moment, his touch tender and loving.

“Do you like it?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper, as if he’s unsure.

You nod, your heart full. “I love it. Thank you, Carlos. You didn’t have to, but I’m really glad you did.”

He leans in to kiss your forehead, the kiss soft and sweet, a promise of more moments like this—of the quiet, meaningful gestures that define your relationship. “You deserve everything,” he murmurs against your skin, his arms wrapping around you in a gentle embrace. “You deserve all the love I can give you.”

As you sit there together, the necklace resting against your skin, you realize something. You’ve always known that Carlos expresses his love through acts of service and thoughtful gifts, but tonight, the real gift isn’t the necklace. It’s the love that comes with it—the care, the attention, the depth of his feelings. It’s a love that doesn’t need to be grand, doesn’t need to be extravagant. It’s a love that’s woven into the everyday acts of kindness, the little touches, the ways he looks at you when he thinks you’re not paying attention.

You reach for his hand, your fingers intertwining with his, and for the first time that night, the words you’ve been searching for come to you, quiet and sure.

“I’m lucky to have you,” you whisper, your voice soft, but full of meaning.

Carlos smiles, his heart clearly full, and he pulls you closer, resting his forehead against yours. “And I’m even luckier to have you."

[andypantsx3]

I love the TodoReaderBaku polycule idea!! I imagine them pushing the others buttons in the morning as they get ready for work and then you come home late that evening to them snoozing and cuddled up together in their sleep on the couch while they wait for you. They(bakugou) already made dinner but they didn’t want to eat without you 🥹💕

This is soooo cute omg you are giving me big domestic tdbkreader feelies. 🥺 I hope it's okay that I wrote you a lil something inspired by this.

contents: shouto x reader x bakugou, established relationship, domestic fluff, gender neutral reader, sfw, 1k

The sound of muffled arguing in the kitchen wakes you up on Saturday morning.

It's late, the sun already streaming in through your windows, pooling in streaks of pale gold across your floor. From where you're wrapped up in the blankets you can just make out a pair of Shouto's discarded pants laying across the floor, Katsuki's folded with military precision atop the hamper. You stretch, joints popping, until the sound of voices draws your attention again.

"The fuck is that supposed to be, huh?" comes Katsuki's growl from beyond the door.

Shouto's low tone answers him, his voice soft and almost indecipherable. You can tell the two of them haven't been up for much longer than you by the rasp in Katsuki's voice, the deep hum of Shouto's. "They are Julie Anne."

There is an incredulous pause, and you can almost see the expression on Katsuki's face. Barely awake, you just manage to stifle your own laugh into the blanket when Shouto's meaning comes to you, and Katsuki's scandalized inhale makes you smile harder.

"It's julienne, dumbfuck. Who the hell is Julie Anne?" he demands.

"They are julienne, then," Shouto says placidly, which you know grinds Katsuki's gears even more than defensiveness.

"This is half a fucking carrot, I said cut 'em tiny!" Katsuki hisses.

Shouto says something in reply you can't quite make out, and Katsuki all but growls—except then there's the softest, slick sound of a kiss, and you know Shouto has pulled out his ultimate move to quiet your boyfriend down.

"Think you can just do whatever because you're cute," Katsuki mutters after a moment, but his tone gives him away. It's easily a thousand degrees warmer than it was moments before, and you can tell by the sound of his voice that the tips of his ears are scarlet.

A helplessly fond smile pulls at your mouth as you stretch again, and you figure you should get out to the kitchen now that the waters have calmed.

The process of unrolling yourself from the blankets takes a minute, and then you spend another few hunting around for the shirt and pants Shouto flung off of you somewhere last night, and a few more brushing your teeth in the bathroom.

Something is hissing on the stove by the time you make it out to the kitchen, and the room smells mouthwatering.

Shouto has apparently been exiled to the far side of the island, and your boyfriend turns to you, his hair a little flatted on the left side, red strands tangling up with the white. His long fingers clutch a glass of orange juice, and he looks so adorably morning-ruffled and sweet you almost fall over your feet in your haste to kiss him.

"Good morning, love," he says, pressing another kiss to your mouth. He's warm and tastes like fresh oranges, and his bare chest is almost too beautifully sculpted in the morning sun. You let him pull you into his lap, and only get a little flustered with the way his arm muscle cords as he does so.

He hooks his arms around you, pressing his mouth into your shoulder, and you shiver with the delicious warmth of him along your back.

"Thought you mighta died in there," Katsuki says, scarlet eyes finding yours over the counter. "'S late for you."

He's bare chested too, miles of golden skin on display in his low-slung grey sweatpants and your mouth goes a little dry just looking at him.

"Luckily someone set the bickering boyfriend alarm," you say, eyes barely finding their way back up to his face.

Katsuki grins, a wicked thing, and leans over the counter to seize your mouth, a long-fingered hand cupping your chin. He tastes like coffee, an indulgence he only allows himself on weekends, and he slides you a matching mug when he finally lets your mouth free, having to return to the rolled omelette he's making.

"I might be in love with you," you say gratefully, taking a sip, reveling in how good it is. Katsuki only does freshly ground—a million miles better than the instant powder or coffee pods you brew yourself on your way out to work. You're definitely in love.

"Then I might be inclined to let you have some of this," Katsuki says. The motion of his arm as he flaps the dishtowel over his shoulder is notably smug.

You settle back into Shouto, sipping your drinks together quietly as you watch a traditional Japanese breakfast come together under Katsuki's talented hands. He plates up rice, his rolled omelette, and then a sauteed kale stem and carrot salad off the stove—so that's what the julienne talk was about. Then grilled fish is laid over the top of the rice, and Katsuki lays out another side of soup and several tiny plates of carved fruits.

Shouto helps you off of his lap gently when it's finished, and Katsuki crowds you into your own chair between the two of them, charging another kiss for his efforts. You pay up eagerly, the meal and the man in front of you equally delicious.

"Eat it all," Katsuki demands of Shouto over your shoulder as he takes his own seat, pointing his chopsticks like a weapon at him. "You overused your quirk in Bunkyo yesterday, y'need to make up the energy deficit."

Shouto hums, used to Katsuki's bossiness.

You have to suppress an appreciative groan when the first bite of breakfast hits your mouth. The fish is fresh and sweet and the rice is warm and fluffy. As with anything Katsuki makes, it's cookbook perfect.

"It's sooo good," you say, your usual—though heartfelt—platitude. "Really good. Thank you both."

"It is made with love," Shouto specifies, his tone low and earnest in that disarming way he has. In the corner of your vision, Katsuki rolls his eyes, but pointedly does not deny it.

You take another bite, hiding your smile in a mouthful of sauteed kale stem and badly-julienned carrot.

[diminuel]

…slightly silly slightly sexy pitch:

Because Roger and Garp LIVE the constant cops n robbers back and forth sexy antagonism their actual bedroom roleplay games are more like

“Garp is a sexy pirate captain who has boarded and tied up Roger in his chambers”

“Roger is Garp’s new Marine Assistant and is *desperate* for a raise”

“Roger is a hostage Garp rescued from evil pirates and now he’s going to show the Marine his gratitude”

“Garp is a civilian Roger captured for his beauty and now wants to show him how *treasured* he’d be”

*gigglesnort*

Meanwhile Rayleigh is just side-eying them or trying his very best to ignore them. (Or maybe they've been long banished off the ship. If those two want to have sex they'll be stranded on an island somewhere. Neither Garp's subordinates nor Roger's crew want to deal with this.)

[ssaeri]

the moon as our witness

☆ tags: elliott x gn!reader, established relationship, reader is farmer, moonlit beach picnic, alcohol mention, drunk shenanigans, silly people in a silly relationship, I quite like the location of elliott’s beach house, I wish we could keep it when we marry him ☆

When Elliott invited you to his home for a picnic under the full moon, you said yes immediately. He’s the writer, not you, but there was something to be said about the feeling of wind in your hair, salt on your tongue, and sand beneath your feet.

And when it came to beach picnics, Elliott could not be beat. At ten o’clock exactly, you walked around his house and arrived at a scene taken straight out of his romance novels. He offered you a glass of wine as you slipped off your sandals and settled onto the checkered blanket next to him. The only thing he let you do was provide the ingredients; he insisted on doing the rest himself. Lemon butter lobster, glazed potatoes, garlic stir-fried string beans, chopped kale and parsnip salad, steamed cauliflower, wild rice, and—he promised with a wink—a strawberry and rhubarb pie waiting in the oven.

The epitome of spring in a meal. You thought that the night was going to be perfect.

However, a bottle and a half of pomegranate wine, split between both your glasses, was all it took for your sweet picnic to devolve into something else entirely.

You wrestle the wooden oar from his hands, and Elliott honest-to-Yoba pouts at you.

”It still counts as operating a vehicle under the influence,” you say, pointing the handle of the oar at his flushed face. “As much as I love you, I am not continuing a relationship behind bars.”

Elliott, ever the drama queen, falls back onto the blanket and throws an arm over his eyes. “O, cruel and cursed fates! You have bound my heart to someone whose love is conditional!” he bemoans to the stars. After a beat of silence, he peeks under his arm. “Wait a minute, the Valley doesn’t even have a jail. Lewis is our only form of law enforcement, and he would simply slap a fine on my door.”

“Taking advantage of an underdeveloped justice system, I see.”

He sits up. “At this hour, you’re the only one around,” he says, slowly turning to you. You do not like that glint in his eyes.  “I’d never be caught if I just…get rid of the only witness.”

You shriek when he pounces and pushes you onto the sand. The oar doesn’t help, either; it keeps you pinned as he giggles breathlessly into your neck, his hands coming to rest on your waist. It takes some wiggling to move the oar out from between you, but once it’s free, you toss it to the side. It lands somewhere with a soft thud.

Elliott settles his head against your shoulder and sighs. After a moment, he says, “You smell lovely.”

“And you’re tickling me,” you retort, but you make no move to change positions. He smells nice, too—a curious mix of pomegranate, sea salt, and ink that’s uniquely his. You feel him smile into your skin as you thread fingers through his hair.

Distantly, waves crash onto the shore, and somewhere at the end of the pier, a leashed wooden rowboat bobs on the water, awaiting its passengers who are—much to Elliott’s disappointment—too inebriated to enjoy a romantic view on the ocean.

You’ll pass, thanks. You’ve seen the movies, you know what would happen next, and waking up stranded on a random island in the middle of the Gem Sea is not on your bucket list.

You’re enjoying the view just fine—here, on solid ground. The full moon bathes everything in a gentle hue, peeking around tree tops like a halo. And the stars. You never saw stars like this from your cramped apartment in the city. Going from the honking bustle of downtown Zuzu City to the buzzing cicadas of Stardew Valley was a hard transition for a cityslicker like you. When you first arrived here, the quiet of evening was unnerving; the silence made space for your thoughts, and the dark for your fears. Time slowed, and for seasons, it felt like you were drowning. Until you let yourself be held by the Valley’s embrace—its land, its resources, its people—and realized that maybe you were actually just learning how to breathe.

You breathe in deep, just because you can.

“It’s beautiful tonight,” you murmur, arms spread wide.

Elliott rolls to the side and props his head up with one hand. “Very beautiful,” he agrees, unabashedly staring at your face.

You push him over. “Okay, cheeseball.”

He only falls onto his back with a chuckle. “...it was also a full moon when you gave me the Bouquet.”

“How do you remember that?”

“How do you not?”

“I’m pretty sure I blacked out. I just remember chasing you after you left the saloon earlier than expected, and when I woke up, you were hugging me.”

“Well,” he hesitates, then sighs. “Yes, I must admit you made little sense at the time. Perhaps a stammer of my name as a warning before shoving the flowers into my face. But on the footbridge under a full moon? Incredibly romantic, dear. Great job; I couldn’t have done better if I tried.”

“Are you kidding me?” You sit up and gesture at the food. By some miracle of Yoba, you’ve managed to make a sizeable dent in the spread, but you hope that he has a cabinet full of takeout containers and space in the fridge.

“You deserve at least this,” he says absently, fiddling with the hem of your shirt, “if not more for making me the happiest man alive.”

You have to turn to hide the smile on your face, but you’re not fast enough—he sits up and catches your chin, earnest green eyes boring into yours. He scans your features like he’s committing them to memory, and then his gaze flits to your lips. You don’t know if you lean in first or if he does, but the kiss is inevitable either way.

His lips are soft, the movements steeped in wine and adoration, and you distantly register the hand on your chin smoothing out to cup your face. Elliott is always gentle with you. Cradling. Cherishing.

When he pulls back to pepper more kisses across your forehead, you pretend to wrinkle your nose in annoyance.

“Hey, why does it feel like I’m forgetting something?”

“I don’t know.”

.

.

.

Three or so kisses later, you both snap to attention at the same time. “The pie!”

[friendlypunk]

when losing a simple game of hide-and-seek turns outgoing, loyal, handsome rafe into reckless, obsessive, sexy rafe - my first venture into smut in a long while, so it’s a mere blurb, but here we go (18+, pain kink if u squint):

i knew rafe was a sore loser. i’d seen him fumble enough times to have gathered that, which only adds to his mounting displeasure at forfeiting the game of hide-and-seek because he couldn’t find me. two basically grown-ass adults and he couldn’t manage to check the closet? his loss, my gain — which is exactly what pissed him off so bad.

i had a feeling he’d be taking what’s his soon to balance it back out. let the real game begin, then.

“it’s not like i was hidden particularly well. no wonder treasure hunting was never your specialty.”

this earns me a growl that reverberates through the entirety of the cameron household, which, blissfully, is empty — leaving us to our own devices for the moment. rafe didn’t like what he couldn’t control, no matter how trivial, and we both knew we were playing with fire. we could burn the whole goddamn island to the ground and it still wouldn’t be enough for either of us.

“i told you i didn’t want to fucking play that childish-ass game,” he rants, pacing now. he’s one more snide comment away from either banging his head against the wall or banging me against the wall. i really can’t tell. but i do love finding out.

“i suggested a silly little game. no one forced you to suck at it.”

and there it is, folks! banged against the wall it is. “checkmate, bitch,” i think, smugly.

i try to hide my pleased reaction, but he catches it easily, and my nonchalance only fuels his frustration.

he grunts, stalking toward me. the soft fringe falling into his face somehow sharpens him, shows off his jagged edges that i’d learned to crave.

i stare up at him. his hands tremble with the force he’s holding back, his knuckles pressed white against the wall on either side of my head, pinning me where i stand. his pursed, pouty lips twitch into a sneer, and the light in his eyes is amused, accepting the challenge. the tension vibrates in the small space between us.

he rakes his gaze over me as i do the same, fingers clutching the collar of his button-down, bunched in the fine material. he looks so good like this. absolutely sinful. completely in control.

“you think i suck? you think i suck so fucking bad? i’ll show you who sucks, bitch. get on your knees.”

i mean, rude, but i’m not arguing. the risk was calculated but the prize is always worth it. i drop immediately.

he rewards my obedience with a soft hand on my cheek, running it across my features, mapping them out. his touch stops on my lips, caressing — then forcing them open. not that i resist much. embarrassing.

“that’s a good girl. open that pretty mouth for me — i’m tired of hearing you talk. but don’t mistake that for permission to be quiet,” he grits out through clenched teeth. “i’m going to remind you exactly just how good i am at the things that actually matter. i’m a proactive person, aren’t i? look at me. now.”

he smirks down at my open, waiting mouth before he slides in the tip, just enough to tease. i moan around it, flicking my tongue over the bead of precum. i look up, and he captures me with his eyes as he takes my mouth relentlessly now. the blue steel of his gaze, the taste of him on my tongue — it’s overwhelming. i whimper, and he groans, twisting his fist into my hair. a ring snags on a strand and it hurts. i can tell he meant for it to.

he’s so fucking huge and not at all gentle and soon he’s hitting the back of my throat at a steady rhythm, churning gaze latched onto mine. i’m lost in a storm, stuck somewhere between getting a rise out of him and submission.

“there is nowhere in this godforsaken mansion you could hide that i wouldn’t find you if it ends like this every time,” he groans, punctuating each word with a sharper thrust.

it’s messy. my eyes are watering, my throat burns. he only allows me to pop off long enough to catch a breath before shoving himself back in. in one of those rare moments, i take another risk — less calculated now that he’s bordering on feral.

“and yet you didn’t, and here we are,” i slur, tears running down my cheeks. i never gag though — i’m his good girl. except for when it came to my mouth, which even when occupied, was a repeated problem. a problem rafe always “takes care” of. he’s proactive, remember? the thought makes me snort.

“what’s so funny?” his voice is breathy, but firm. “sounds like you haven’t learned your lesson yet if you can still run that fucking mouth of yours. on all fours. don’t make me wait.”

he uses the fistful of hair to force me down. i hiss, and he grins wickedly, a crinkle of the eye. gorgeous.

i didn’t mean to say it out loud.

“you think i’m gorgeous, sweetheart? you want me to wreck your perfect little pussy for you, just like this?” he shoves me the rest of the way down. hard.

i wait to feel him pressed against me, but instead, i gasp. warm breath grazes the most sensitive part of my skin, and the position keeps me vulnerable, a feeling we both know he’s trying to chase away after his loss. it’s how he reclaims control. keeps me on my toes.

“oh, that’s still coming, princess,” he murmurs, velvety soft now. “but i don’t want you to forget how well i know you. how i give you what you need. i want to watch while i take you apart first. watch while i remind you of all the reasons that i never truly lose.”

[yoomiwrites]

Missing ghost

Summary: Mihawk is thinking of old times and a woman, who is nothing more but a ghost of his past.

Note: Warning, death is mentioned. Other than that, this piece here was supposed to be a long story about Mihawk and female Reader. However, I never made more than this chapter here. So maybe, if you'd like it, I'd write some more.

The waves were gentle, reflecting the moonlight like scattered stars on the ocean’s surface. Dracule Mihawk closed his eyes, feeling the cool sea breeze against his face as he sat on the deck of his ship. A ghostly memory stirred in him, as vivid as if it had just happened.

The first time Mihawk noticed her was on a mission, a young Marine assigned to keep tabs on him after he gained the title of Warlord. She’d followed him, trying to be inconspicuous, though her clumsy missteps were anything but. She was short and reckless, and for reasons he couldn’t fathom, she had an unsteady hand and an unwavering stare.

Her first mistake had been near the docks of a small port town, when a group of bandits cornered her. Mihawk had watched with detached interest, waiting to see how she’d get out of it. Her wild threats were nothing more than empty bluster, and her swordsmanship—well, calling it swordsmanship was a bit generous. He stepped in at the last second, cutting down the thugs with ease. She looked up at him with wide, grateful eyes.

“You’re supposed to be watching me, not getting yourself killed,” he’d told her coldly, though something in the back of his mind couldn’t help but find her blunders almost… entertaining.

Then there was another time, on an island filled with mercenaries. She had followed him there, disguised poorly in civilian clothing, and ended up stumbling into a skirmish far out of her depth. He saw her trip, her sword skidding uselessly out of reach as enemies closed in around her. Mihawk sighed, stepping forward once more to dispatch them before they even had the chance to draw their weapons. She scrambled to her feet, face red with embarrassment, mumbling an apology that he ignored as he turned his back on her.

Still, he noticed how she followed him a bit more closely after that, how her footsteps became quieter and her gaze sharper, if only slightly.

And then there was another time, out on the open sea. She was supposed to be tailing him from a distance, but a storm had rolled in, thrashing the waters until even her small vessel seemed ready to shatter against the waves. She’d been stranded on a rocky cliff, clinging desperately to the edge, when he’d appeared, reaching down to pull her aboard his own ship without a word.

As they stood together, the storm raging around them, she’d laughed, bright and breathless. “Why do you keep rescuing me?” she’d asked, her voice barely audible over the thunder.

He hadn’t answered. He hadn’t even looked at her. But that question, that laugh—it lingered in his mind.

Again, and again, and again, she would appear, somewhere she shouldn’t be, watching him with those wide, curious eyes, somehow always finding herself in trouble. And every time, he’d find himself rescuing her—cutting down threats that were below him, sparing her with a scathing remark that barely hid his amusement, feeling an odd emptiness when she was gone.

Over time, he began to search for her. He’d scan crowds for her familiar face, listen for that awkward, clumsy shuffle that seemed out of place in the world of battle-hardened Marines. Sometimes he would hear rumors, whispers of her presence in a nearby port or sighting on an enemy ship, and he’d follow them without even thinking. It was irrational, and yet he did it anyway.

And then one day, she was gone.

At first, he hadn’t noticed, merely assuming she’d been transferred or reassigned. He asked a Marine here and there, a casual question that rarely received more than a vague answer.

But as the weeks stretched into months, her absence gnawed at him. He asked more directly, seeking her among Marines stationed in distant lands, always receiving the same indifferent reply: she’d gone missing at sea.

A part of him felt hollow, as if he’d been cut adrift himself. He hadn’t even realized how often he’d begun to look forward to those run-ins, to the relief of seeing her just a few steps behind him, an unwelcome shadow that had somehow slipped into his life.

But now, even the shadow was gone.

Years passed, and in quiet moments, he would remember her. He searched still, following the trail of rumors, listening for any word, any sighting of the clumsy Marine who’d haunted his steps. The legendary Warlord, Hawk Eyes Mihawk, trailed in the footsteps of a ghost he could not seem to release.

And now, with his eyes closed, the memory of her laugh—light and daring—lingered in his mind as real as any blade. He had chased legends, sought powerful rivals, and fought battles that defied reason, but he had never been able to answer the question she had left him with.

The stars shimmered on the dark waters around him, and as he opened his eyes, he found himself alone once more.

[multifandumbmeg]

Subtle JJ things I noticed that keep me up at night:

1. The way they changed the styling of his clothes from season 1 to season 2. Season one he's already pretty ripped but he mostly wears these loose-fitting tshirts and cutoffs that make him look cute, lanky, and unthreatening. Season 2 he mostly wears tight-fitting tshirts that make him look CONSIDERABLY beefier and generally is seen wearing more layers- it's technically Fall but he covers up more than other characters do and it has the effect of him seeming more closed off and isolated than the others, which he is. Season three his style is somewhere in between, not super tight but not lanky and loose either, like he's found a better balance.

2. His drinking. Season 1 he's partying a lot with beer and frankly, high most of the time. Season 2 he starts carrying around the flask- presumably liquor, not beer- and drinking non-socially. Before school. At John B's "funeral". That night they're stranded with Kie and Pope on the way to Charleston. The others aren't drinking at all, nor does he offer them some, then he seemingly (to Kie) falls asleep with the open flask in hand... Like he's been drinking himself to sleep, and this has probably become a habit. This is clearly because he's depressed, and though I think John B's "death" is the catalyst, it's clearly not the only reason as it continues through season 2, for example the aforementioned Charleston trip. I think John B's death, going no-contact with his dad, living alone at the chateau, Pope and Kie's relationship, have all led him to feel extremely isolated and he's clearly coping with substances even worse than before. Not to mention he's free of his dad for the first time, completely after he leaves OBX, which means for the first time in his life he's probably processing his trauma, which is what tends to happen once you find yourself no longer in a continually traumatizing situation. That would also account for his moodiness and increasing dependence on substances. I think it's also interesting we see him smoking weed less, but drinking more heavily. I think they did this to show a marked change in his already concerning substance use from season 1 from "bad coping mechanism, gets him through the day in relatively good spirits" to genuinely concerning and potentially volatile, over-using a substance his biological was known to be addicted to. Note this abruptly ends at the end of season 2 with being stranded on the island with all the Pogues. There are zero substances on the island, but it's clear it's the happiest he's ever been. A lot goes down after they get off the island but he seems to minimally fall back into old patterns in season 3. Apart from hanging out and partying a socially acceptable amount with his friends, the only time I remember him using is when he's drinking beers alone at his house- when he gets home and everyone's reuniting with their families and when he's fighting with Kiara because of their moment. When he feels alone and scared. I'm curious to see his development in season 4.

3. His lack of fear/loss of fear in death. Bro, nobody talks about how differently he reacts to danger between seasons 1 and 2. All throughout season 1, JJ is an anxious wreck and his response to being threatened is always submission, fear, and an instinct to run. When there's guns on him he gets the fuck down. He puts his hands up. He looks visibly terrified. Multiple times you can see him VISIBLY shaking. When the thugs are attacking Miss Lana, he's trembling with his eyes closed and trying not to make a sound. He begs John B to leave while it's happening and after when he sees her reaction. Even when Barry tries to rob them, furious though he is, he follows Barry's demands and doesn't fight back until John B starts it and makes an opportunity. As Kiara so aptly puts it, "he has the survival instincts of a cockroach." He does! But everything changes when he tries to grab the money and run from his dad. Again, he doesn't want a fight. But he gets one, and he's finally tired of it. He's been beat up and threatened and stolen from one time too many, and the threat of death is no longer a more powerful motivator than his wants. So he attacks his dad back and puts him in his place. He once again puts his hands up when Barry and Rafe come for him at the Phantom, but he doesn't look as scared. John B's "death" may be the final nail in the coffin, because starting season 2? He's not scared anymore when he should be. Despite the fact that he appears to be having panic attacks and worse anxiety than ever, every gun that's pointed at him or fight that breaks out he just rolls with. One of the only times I can see his survival instincts crop up in season 2 is when Kiara yells "murderer" at Ward seconds after he straight up killed someone with a gun, which is a normal human reaction and may have had more to do with protecting his friends. He just seems numb to most of the danger. Then again, season 3, he almost seems to find a balance. He's still doing some reckless things, and no longer cowering in the face of enemies, but he also knows who the dangerous people are, and when to wheel and deal or turn away and come fight another day.

Anyway, I'm very curious to see how he evolves in season 4, now that he's establishing his own life, financially secure, on good terms with all his friends and (hopefully) in a committed relationship. Let me know if I missed any other interesting character changes patterns for JJ or any other characters from the show! I would love to read/hear what you noticed and your own in-depth character analysis. JJ's my favorite character and a super rich text, so I tend to hyperfocus on him. Also if you want to request me to make one of these on one of the other characters let me know! I would love to zero in on them and see what I missed on my next watch-through.

[alittlesongbirdchirps]

Gulivers travel inspired Au. Not the jack black movie the old cartoon show.

Batman, well actually no Bruce Wayne who is in fact Batman was going to crash his little yacht somewhere to hide his recent injuries he got as Batman, as a cover unfortunately due to a freak storm that didn’t happen and he actually unintentional not how he planned it crashes it going over board stranded on an island of small people.

He swears he remembers reading a premise with that same thing once.

While locked up he meets one of the island residents a young boy who appearntly got caught stealing bread and whose punishment unfitting will be death. Bruce is like fuck no mine and takes Jason, and later tim who was gonna be used by his parents as a political pawn, now he’s his.

And when he returns back to Gotham somehow, dick returns to Gotham to rip him a new one for suddenly vanishing without a word. And then he sees two little people

“What the fuck Bruce?!”

Late night drabble.

[lumi-nescentt]

What A Blessing To Feel Your Love

Pairing: Pierre Gasly x Reader

Warnings: a few sex jokes here and there bc they like to tease each other

Words: 6k

Summary: You and Pierre have been dating for a few years and he always loved spoiling you so when Max tells him about his stay in st barts, Pierre decide that he has to take you there.

A/N: I did ended up quoting the song Red Desert by 5sos... couldn't help myself :)

Being Pierre's girlfriend was already a great life experience during the season, the man loved to have you with him as much as he could whether it was in the paddock, in his Milan apartment or in whatever place he had to be for work or pleasure.

Since you had to work with his schedule, yours was a little less busier, it was simpler that way. Pierre insisted on paying for everything when you travelled to meet him. You had tried arguing with him but whenever it happened, Pierre just shut you up with a kiss and told you that whatever he was paying for was worth it if he got to see you a little more often.

It was hard to argue with that logic, especially when he smiled so fondly whenever you agreed to come with him. Despite having this kind of intimidating aura, Pierre was the kindest and most thoughtful boyfriend you ever had. Being with him felt like coming home in a way and that was the most comforting feeling.

When the summer break came, you usually tagged along to wherever his friends had planned to go that year. It usually circled back to the same three locations: Greece, Italy and the South of France. All three destinations were great: beautiful landscapes, clear waters and warm sun. It was the perfect destination to get a good tan for both Pierre and you.

The Frenchman knew how much you loved your summer trips so when he had heard Max talk about this beautiful island he had gone to for New Year's, he had immediately booked a trip for the both of you during that same time.

Keeping it a surprise had been the trickiest part. He wanted to surprise you but he needed to be sure that you were free during that time. In the end he settled for just telling you that he was taking you somewhere right after Christmas until after New Year's. You had tried to get more information out of him but the little fucker had kept his mouth shut, no matter what sneaky tactics you had tried to use. 

That’s why you were currently sitting in a private jet, still clueless about your destination. Pierre had only told you to let your best friend pack your suitcase because it was the only way to keep the secret for this long. The only thing you knew was that the flight was going to last around 9 hours so you were prepared to be a little bored. 

Pierre hated flying, he had told you countless times, when it was just the two of you laying down in bed at night. How, even with how much he did it, he couldn’t shake how terrified he was to crash. A 9 hours flight meant that you were most likely crossing the Atlantic ocean and that took a lot out of your boyfriend so, even though there were a lot of seats you could have taken, you sat on the one right next to him, holding his hand and letting him rest his head on your shoulder.

You knew Pierre had relaxed a little when his breath evened and the death-grip on your hand loosened slightly. A wave of relief washed over you as you saw his peaceful face, brushing a strand of hair away from his face before resting your head on top of his, finally allowing yourself to rest now that Pierre was fast asleep. 

You woke up a few hours later to Pierre trying to remove his head from under yours without waking you up. Noticing he had failed, the Frenchman offered you an apologetic smile that you brushed off with a soft press of your lips on his cheek. Since you were now both awake and still had time to kill, Pierre got his laptop out so you could watch the latest show you had been watching together. 

The both of you got so lost in it that you didn’t notice right away as the plane started to go lower. Pierre was the first one to realise, his whole body tensing and gripping the arm rest as discreetly as he could. However, you knew him too well not to see that so you put his hand back in yours and started to trace random shapes on the back of it until the plane finally came to a stop. 

The first thing that hit you when you got out of the plane was the heat. Gone was the December cold and the snow you had experienced in Europe, you felt the heat envelop you and your sweatshirt was gone the second you put one foot outside.

The second thing that hit you was that you weren’t heading towards the terminal and instead you were being led to an even smaller private plane. You looked at Pierre with a questioning look on your face but all you got in return was a cramped smile. 

The Frenchman tried to look as chill as he could but Max had told him that the plane ride from St Maarten to St Barts was one of the scariest he had experienced. And that came from Max Verstappen so Pierre took it more than seriously.

Once you were back in the air, you watched in awe the crystal blue water that seemed to stretch forever as Pierre tried his best not to let the fear take over. Luckily for him, the flight barely lasted 15 minutes and soon the both of you watched as the plane’s nose dipped towards the earth at a rapid pace. Pierre watched terrified as the plane manoeuvred between two mountains before dropping down on the runway he could see from the plane’s windshield from where he was sitting. 

As soon as the doors were opened, Pierre was outside with his bags. He ran towards the minuscule airport, giving you a sorry smile as he bent over the edge of the closest bin and finally released what his stomach had tried to hold onto during the short flight. 

After passing the border control surprisingly fast, it only took you 2 minutes from the moment you crossed the first door to the moment you were back outside, Pierre stopping to the bathroom to brush his teeth, the Frenchman looked at you with a brighter smile.

-“ Welcome to St Barts mon coeur”

-"Pierre, this is beautiful. That's the best surprise ever." you exclaimed, wrapping your arms around his neck

-" Wait till you see the place we're staying at, it's even prettier."

You had trouble believing Pierre but the moment your boyfriend stopped in front of the hotel, you knew he might actually be right. The hotel was overlooking a beautiful white sand beach with red sunbeds and a few swings. Pierre went to grab the room key and as he did a quick room tour, you let yourself crash onto the bed, groaning into the pillow.

-“ You should really get up and take a look at the view, you know ?” Pierre chuckled as he sat on the edge of the bed, his hand coming to rest on your lower back

-“ I will in a minute, I promise. I just need to rest my neck for a second.”

-“ Are you feeling alright ?” Pierre asked, sounding a little worried as you shifted on your side to face him

-“ Don’t worry about it, I’m just a little tense because of the flight but I’ll be alright.”

-“ Come here, sit up please.” Pierre said as he patted the space in front of him “ Tell me if I’m putting too much pressure on it, okay ?”

-“ You don’t have to give me a massage Pierre.” you affirmed but as soon as his hands were on your neck, you couldn’t keep the sigh of relief from leaving your mouth

-“ First off, I’m doing this for both of us because I’m not going to be able to enjoy myself if you’re in pain and you should know that. Second, I won’t miss out on having my hands on my beautiful girlfriend.” Pierre smiled cheekily, pressing a kiss on your cheek

-“ Well, when you put it like that.” you said, not able to keep a laugh from escaping your lips

After Pierre’s massage that had inevitably turned into a quick and needed makeout session, you finally got to do your long awaited room tour. The bedroom was facing an enormous window with a sea-view and over your own private little infinity pool. The next room was a walk-in closet made of oak with a glass sliding door that opened on your terrace with a little table and two sunbeds. 

Finally, the bathroom was separated in three parts: the toilet room that was just what it seemed only expensive looking, the double sink part with a marble countertop and a mirror that reached the ceiling and finally, the italian shower that was entirely covered in black stone tiles with a small square window that, of course, showed you a clear view of the beach and the never-ending ocean in front of you. 

You were still looking at the bathroom when Pierre sneaked his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder which made you jump slightly.

-“ So, what do you think ? Is that a good surprise ?” 

-“ It’s perfect, I couldn’t dream of a better place to spend the holidays.” you smiled, caressing his cheek softly

-“ What about the company ?” 

-“ You already know what I think about that, Pierre. You only want to hear it again because it flatters your ego…”

-“ Maybe I just like to make sure my girlfriend is as in love with me as I am with her.” Pierre retorqued, kissing your shoulder 

-“ The company is the best. Thanks for bringing me here, darling.”

-“ It’s my pleasure.” the Frenchman smiled “ Do you want to have a quick nap or do you want to go explore a bit ?” 

-“ I don’t think we came here to sleep so let’s get ready, Gasly.” 

-“ I mean, I wouldn’t mind a little time on the bed but you’re the boss so let’s go.” Pierre winked, unwrapping his arms from your waist

-“ Get your mind out of the gutter and get out so I can shower please.” you laughed, grabbing the nearest towel, fakely hitting your boyfriend who started laughing

-“ You’re no fun, you know that ? If you change your mind, just yell. I’ll come in a sec.” 

-" It won't happen but alright, now go please." you smiled, kissing Pierre tenderly 

Now that you were finally free of your very loving boyfriend who had gone on the balcony to lay in the sun, you finally got ready to go explore the island a little before jetlag caught up with the both of you. 

When Pierre showed you the car he had rented, you couldn’t help the laugh that got out of your mouth. The car was cute but it was a bright orange small open car that looked straight out of a cartoon. It definitely wasn’t something you had expected your boyfriend to drive but with his white linen outfit, he weirdly fit in this beach day paradise picture. 

Pierre seemed to know where he was going, reading the indications on the signs and smoothly manoeuvring the car on the tight roads. The drive wasn’t long and yet it seemed like you had travelled elsewhere. Gone was the busy hotel and the white sandy beach full of tourists, you were now faced with an empty beach covered with rocks and waves crashing on the shore in intervals. 

You were rendered speechless by the view, turning towards Pierre to say something, anything, to tell him that it was the most beautiful place you’d ever been to but there was no word to describe exactly how magical the moment felt. Especially when the sun was slowly getting down and casting a warm orange light on Pierre who was just smiling at you with so much love. The whole scene made you want to do a single thing and you quickly did, pressing your lips against Pierre’s as a way to express the tumult of feelings you were feeling inside. 

The two of you sat on a small stonewall overlooking the beach as you watched the sun descend behind the horizon line, your head on Pierre’s shoulder and his hand on your thigh. Neither of you said anything until the sun was completely hidden and Pierre tugged on your hand, motioning for you to get off the wall. 

You could have stayed there forever with him but if you were being honest, the jetlag was starting to catch up with you and you were getting hungrier by the minute. Pierre was well aware of the last part as your stomach grumbled rather loudly during the car ride back to the hotel, making the both of you laugh. 

Despite wanting to discover the island a little more, you decided to order room service for the night, too tired to go out. Plus, eating in your room wasn’t a bad thing at all, you got to eat while listening to the peaceful sound of the waves crashing and nobody would be telling you anything about decorum if your body was leaning and desperately clinging onto Pierre. 

The Frenchman wasn’t complaining at all about that last part, happy to have you close and even happier when you agreed to go for a quick swim in the pool with him before bed. Well, swim was a big word because you were mostly hugging Pierre the whole time as he tried to move around before giving up and sitting on the stairs to cuddle in the water. 

You could have dozed off right there under the pale moonlight and the warmth of Pierre’s skin but he wouldn’t let you because he knew better. You were tired and not used to the temperature yet so that could make you get sick easier than usual and Pierre didn’t want that at all. Knowing that you’d be too tired to do anything now that you were almost asleep, Pierre just dragged you to the bathroom, washing your face and rinsing the chlorine off your skin before giving you one of his shirts to sleep in. 

Between the softness of your boyfriend’s t-shirt, the weight of his arm around your waist and the AC softly blowing air in the room, you could definitely say this was one of the best nights of sleep you got in a while. Pierre would have honestly said the same if he hadn’t been woken up by the feeling of your finger poking his ribs and tickling his neck. He tried to feign annoyance and act grumpy but the act was dropped the moment you started peppering kisses all over his face until piercing blue eyes were looking at you with an infectious smile. 

Breakfast was eaten in a hurry, Pierre telling you he had planned a whole day of activities and that you needed to be ready soon. His warning would have been nice if he had actually said what you were doing so you knew how to dress but he was adamant on keeping it a surprise, only telling you to wear a swimsuit. When he jokingly complained that you were taking too long to get ready, you reminded him that looking this gorgeous took a little time, teasingly adding that he wouldn’t know about that as you came out of the bathroom. 

When your eyes fell on him, your urge to tease him completely melted. His body was resting against the door frame, lazily playing with a few unruly strands of hair and he couldn’t have looked more attractive to you. It didn’t even look like he was trying hard to look good too with his crisp white linen shirt and those orange swim shorts you had found horrendous at first. Now you couldn’t help but notice how it complimented his already tanned skin and toned body. 

-“ You like what you see, mon coeur ?” he exaggeratedly winked

-“ You don’t look too bad for someone who took 5 minutes to get ready.” 

-“ What can I say… Some of us are just naturally breathtaking.” he laughed as you pouted

-“ Some of us ? Should I feel insulted ?” 

-“ No, never. You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen. No matter what you’re wearing or not wearing.” Pierre teased, putting his hands on your hips, pulling you against him to kiss you slowly

-“ Alright, as much as I love what we’re doing right now, you said we couldn’t be late to what you had planned so we need to leave now.” you mumbled, lips inches away from his as he grunted, knowing you were right

The drive to the mysterious spot was nice and despite how short it was, Pierre’s hand was on your thigh as you watched in awe the turquoise water that seemed to stretch for hundreds of miles and the trees full of colourful flowers. You were so focused on the scenery around you that you almost didn’t notice when he stopped the car and came round to open the door for you. 

You looked around, trying to guess what you were doing today and when your eyes fell on the yachts lined up next to each other, you turned towards your boyfriend with an excited look on your face. Pierre nodded before wrapping his hand in yours and walking towards one of the boats. Since it was only you and him, you expected to go on the smallest one but instead Pierre marched towards the biggest one and saluted the man waiting in front of it before climbing aboard.

You knew Pierre was rich. You had been dating for years at this point and you had witnessed his financial growth first hand, going from quick and cheap cinema dates in small towns to expensive restaurants all over the world but this was something else. Pierre had always been pretty quiet about his wealth, he knew you didn’t exactly come from money and hated to feel like you were just leeching off him when there was a cheaper equivalent that was just as good. 

However, this was different. You couldn’t lie and say you didn’t enjoy the luxurious boat you had all to yourself. Not when Pierre was looking all too happy to show you around, explaining how he had asked for this specific boat and why. It was endearing really, the way he seemed so happy to please you and treat you like a princess. In all honesty, he was probably enjoying the smile and the kiss you gave him as a thanks more than the actual boat he had paid thousands to rent. 

Your day on the water started on a high because as soon as you were out of the marina, the boat threw the anchor down and suddenly jet skis were dropped down in the water for you and Pierre. The Frenchman tried to convince you to try it on your own first but when he realised that having you on the same one as him meant having you as close as possible, he stopped arguing and almost jumped on the jet ski with a sly smile. 

You spent about an hour and a half hanging onto Pierre for dear life as you let out screams of pure adrenaline when you jumped over the waves at high speed, crashing with brutal force, knocking the air out of your lungs for a few seconds before you laughed. The sound was music to Pierre’s ears and you could tell he was doing his best to pull it out of you as often as he could by showing off and going as fast as he dared. 

When you finally came back to the yacht, someone was waiting to tell you that lunch was ready whenever you were. You hadn’t realised how hungry you were until you saw the table filled with your favourite things and in quantities you could never ingest, even with a boyfriend that could eat his own weight in food easily. Nevertheless, you sat down on the bench determined to honour the time the people who cooked must have spent making this. 

You realised you had eaten too much a bit too late so when Pierre asked what you wanted to do after lunch, you just shrugged, wanting nothing more than to sleep until you were feeling less groggy and full. Without you having to say a word, Pierre understood and took your hand so you followed him towards the front of the boat where the sunbed was. It was the biggest one you had ever seen, taking most of the place there and it looked so comfortable you couldn’t help but sigh expectantly. 

Pierre lied down first, spreading his arms out as he settled on his back with one hand behind his head. He looked almost unreal like that, all flushed skin from the sun, shining with what you assumed was a thin layer of sweat from the sun that peaked above you. You didn’t ever care about the heat or the sweat as you joined him on the bed, half on top of him, your cheek resting on his chest, his chin on the top of your head. 

You hadn’t even realised you were starting to fall asleep until you felt something cold hit your back, shrieking at the feeling. You looked up when you felt Pierre laugh softly, glaring at him menacingly to make him stop whatever he was trying to do.

-“ Relax princess. I’m just putting sunscreen on your back so you can sleep without looking like a lobster tomorrow.” 

-“ Oh, that’s really nice of you. Thanks.” 

-“ Wouldn’t want you whining about how your back hurt the whole trip now, would we ?” 

-“ I don’t whine, Pierre.” you huffed, rolling your eyes as he smiled even bigger now

-“ You’re a terrible liar but it’s okay, I still love you.” he tried to kiss you, chuckling when you pulled back, still acting offended

-“ Even if I did whine, which I don’t… I thought you liked hearing me. Isn’t that what you said last time in your driver’s room ?” you asked, looking at him with the biggest doe eyes you could as his whole face flushed red

-“ You– You’re going to be the death of me one day, you know that ?” 

-“ It’s okay, we both know you love it.” you winked, pecking his lips before stretching and settling down against him again, ready to nap for real this time

-“ Oh no no, mon coeur. You don’t get to tease me like that and then just fall asleep after you reminded me of this. If I can’t sleep, you’re not sleeping either.” he promised, shuffling under you, picking you up with ease

-“ Pierre. Put me down.”

-“ What’s the magic word, princess ?” 

-“ I’m not calling you daddy, if that’s what you were asking for.” you teased, knowing it would rile him up

-“ For the last time, y/n, I do not have a daddy kink so please for the love of God, stop saying that every time we’re in public because people are going to actually start believing it.” Pierre blurted, his face flushing

-“ But you’re so cute when you blush. How could I resist when teasing you is so fun and so easy ?” 

-“ Who are you calling cute ?” he tried, flexing his muscles as he tried to pull you towards him, attempting a biceps curl 

-“ Slow down big boy, I don’t want to fall face first and whine all week about how much it hurts.” you teased back

-“ You know what ? I was going to be nice and just put you back down but I feel like you’re a little too feisty today and maybe you need to cool down a bit.” Pierre nodded to himself, walking closer to the end of the boat as you wiggled in his arms, demanding that he put you down with screaming giggles

Pierre liked to think he was a nice boyfriend or at least nice enough to make sure he warned you before jumping so you could close your mouth before entering the water. The water wasn’t particularly cold but you definitely felt a rush of blood course through your entire body from the suddenness of it . You tried to look mad when you looked at Pierre but between his goofy smile and the water dripping from his hair onto his nose and his lips, you didn’t last a second before pressing your lips against his. This may not be heaven but it felt pretty damn close to you. 

After kissing for a bit in the water, Pierre letting you control the pace and how long you did it for, claiming it was his way of apologising when you both knew he was enjoying this just as much as you, you finally got your nap in the sun. You were still laying on top of Pierre and as time went by and the sun slowly got down, you could feel your boyfriend grow restless under you. You tried to ask him if he wanted you to move off him or if something was wrong but he just told you not to move and that everything was perfect. 

You didn’t quite believe him but you knew he would tell you at some point if something was really bothering him so you let it slide. Still wanting to show that you were there for him, you tightened your arms around his body and started playing with the hair at the back of his neck just the way he loved. It seemed to make him relax a little because by the time the captain of the boat came to tell you they had to head back to the marina, Pierre was smiling again.

After spending your whole day outside doing activities, you expected Pierre to want to rest for the evening and have dinner in your room but as soon as you were back at the hotel, he was off to shower telling you that he’d leave you the bathroom once he was done so you could take your time to get ready. Before you could even say something, he told you that the restaurant was a surprise and that it was a pretty fancy place so you could dress up if you wanted to. 

You tried to drag your boyfriend on the bed when he came out only wearing a towel around his hips but despite giving you a long and languid kiss, Pierre didn’t give in. He was adamant that the plans he had made needed to happen and that even his drop dead gorgeous girlfriend, his words, couldn’t convince him to be late. Since he was never one to turn down such an offer to have fun, you couldn’t help but grow suspicious at his behaviour. 

Just when you were about to say something about it, Pierre pushed you towards the bathroom with a kiss, biting your bottom lip and playfully slapping your ass before leaving you to get ready. Now, that was more like the Pierre you knew so you brushed off your previous feeling and started getting ready. 

The restaurant was more than beautiful. Pierre had picked a place straight out of a fairytale with that one. It was on the beach, dim lights everywhere that created an intimate ambiance paired with the sound of the waves crashing and the low jazz music playing in the background. You expected to be seated at one of the tables you saw but the waiter walked a little further away on the beach, revealing a secluded table surrounded by palm trees and what looked like fancy fairy lights.

You let Pierre drag your chair for you as you took in your surroundings. The Frenchman was watching you with a soft smile on his face, a clear affection written all over his features.

-“ So, do you like it ?” he asked as he anxiously sat down

-“ Pierre, this is perfect.” 

-“ Really ?” 

-“ Yes, I couldn’t dream of a prettier place to eat with you.”

-“ I’m glad you like it, I had a bunch of options but this restaurant was the only one that felt right, the only one that felt like us.” he admitted, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck

-“ You made a great choice but you really don’t have to stress yourself over this. I’ll be more than happy to eat junk food sitting on the pavement if that means I get to spend time with you.” 

-“ I know, I just like spoiling you and showing you off I guess.” he smiled brightly as the waiter came back, stopping the moment you two had been sharing

It was a dinner filled with good wine, exquisite food and even better company. Despite having the waiter come back a few times to ask if everything was alright, it truly felt like you were the only two in the world right now. Pierre was a little touchier than usual, keeping your hand in his whenever you didn’t need it and scooting his chair closer to you so he could rest his hand on your thigh when you nodded both hands to eat. It was endearing and you couldn’t do anything but smile back and melt into his familiar touch. 

You knew your boyfriend too much not to notice he was growing antsy as the meal was getting closer to the end but despite moving around a lot, he was still smiling and he seemed happy so you let him be again, not wanting to ruin the romantic atmosphere. When the dessert finally came, you dug in with appetite in the beautiful tiramisu as Pierre laughed at your behaviour before moving his seat back a little. 

-“ I’m so happy to be here with you, mon coeur.” Pierre started while you were still looking at your plate and eating, your full focus on the food in front of you “ We’ve been together for almost 5 years now, you know ? I wish I could say that I find this crazy but I really don’t. I feel like I’ve known you forever and 5 years seems way too small compared to what I want with you.” 

-“ Oh Pierre…” you started, finally looking at him as you felt your voice quivering with emotions

-“ I’ve thought about us a lot recently and there isn’t a single moment where I’d want us to be apart. You’ve been there for me at my worst and yet you still found it in yourself to love me for who I am and I don’t want to imagine where I’d be without you. I know I’m not usually one to talk about feelings and stuff like that but you make me feel safe enough to do so just by being yourself because you’re the most understanding, loving and caring person I know.” he declared, wrapping his hand in yours before continuing “I wouldn’t want to be with anyone else on this planet because I truly believe we are made for each other. I love you like I’ve never loved anyone else and that’s why I actually wanted us to come here because you deserve to know how much you mean to me and how much I love you.” 

-“ I love you so much, baby. I wouldn’t want to be with anyone else ever either.” you murmured, fighting back tears as you watched Pierre slowly grab something in his pocket

-“ I’m glad you said that actually because I wanted to ask you something.” he smiled, letting go of your hand to grab the velvet box in his hands

-“ No, you didn’t !” you exclaimed, slapping your hand over your mouth while Pierre dropped to one knee in front of you

-“ Y/n, mon coeur, you’re the love of my life and there’s nothing I want more than to be able to call you my wife and grow old with you. Will you give me the honour of calling you my wife ?” 

-“ Yes, God, yes I’ll marry you. I love you so much.” you cried as he put the ring on your finger before kneeling down on the ground and kissing him with all the force you had

-“ I love you too, amour. You have no idea how much.” Pierre smiled, tears wetting his cheeks too while you rested your forehead against his

-“ I think I do after your big speech.”

-“ That was kind of the point of the whole thing.” he laughed, the sound making your heart soar with love so intensely you felt a sob wash over you at thought that this beautiful man in front of you was now your fiancé

-“ You’re such an idiot making me cry like that, you big dork. I must look awful with the tear stains.” you sniffled, Pierre pulling you in for a hug before helping you sit back on your chair again

-“ You look perfect, I promise. You look like someone who just got engaged.” 

-“ It’s not fair, you look beautiful as always and not all snotty from crying like me. I hate you so much. I hope you know we’re not taking engagement pictures with me looking like that.” you scoffed, hiding behind your glass of champagne that was now empty

-“ Don’t worry, I’m not crying much now but the day we get married I’ll be a crying fountain and you can laugh all you want then.” 

-“ I still can’t believe it, you’re going to be my husband. Oh my God, I’m going to be your wife.”

-“ You’re not already regretting it, are you ?”

-“ Of course not. I know it doesn’t look like it with all the tears and the teasing but there’s no word to describe how happy I am that you proposed. You’re the love of my life, P. I mean it. You’re my person, always and forever.”

-“ Good because I might have invited our families and close friends to celebrate with us here for New Year’s.” he admitted with a grin, making you laugh

-“ You were that sure that I’d say yes ?” you teased him with a nudge of your shoulder

-“ I was just really hoping you would because it would’ve been really uncomfortable otherwise.”

-“ Well it’s a good thing I’m head over heels in love with you then.”

-“ The feeling’s more than mutual mon coeur.” Pierre smiled, pressing his lips against yours, pouring all the love he felt for you in that slow kiss

The days between your engagement and the arrival of everyone had been spent in a daze. You and Pierre were completely immersed in your own bubble and everything felt like the beginning of your relationship again. Whatever Pierre said made you blush and he couldn’t help but feel the need to impress you and make you fall in love with him all over again. 

Seeing the ring he had chosen on your finger was making him feel all kinds of things and it seemed like being apart from you for two seconds was now impossible. He was always touching you in a way and he gave you nothing short of the princess treatment. 

It was endearing and you couldn’t lie and say you didn’t feel the exact same way as you took pictures to share the news to everyone around you. Pierre was beaming with pride whenever he caught you looking at the ring with a smile or when he looked at his own. There was truly no one else he’d want to spend his life with so he was relieved you said yes. 

The day you finally got married, Pierre kept his promise and wept as you walked in and as he read his vows, taking a deep breath before saying the last sentence of his carefully written text. Holding your delicate hands in his, Pierre said: “ You’re the only one I'd do this with, what a blessing to feel your love, mon coeur.” 

That last sentence was engraved in your head and in your heart, probably resonating deep in your soul until you’d give your last breath and leave the love of your life before he joined you into eternity. Because you knew Pierre and you were bonded by something bigger, you were twin flames, two parts of one being separated in two bodies, destined to find each other in every life, no matter what form that took. You were sure of it, it was the reason you agreed to marry him, he was your person, always and forever.

[captainbfresh]

Need me a fic where Tommy 'dies' but its just like a castaway situation where he's stranded somewhere and he's using all his army training stuff to help survive until someone finds him (but no one is looking because they found his chopper in the ocean or whatever)

And he and Buck hadn't been dating that long before it happens. And Bucks been trying to like stay cool and ease in and not go "but daddy I love him" (despite certainly being in love) because he wants to do it right and not just throw himself in head first and make the same mistakes again.

And so he's absolutely devastated when his boyfriend 'dies' (as you would be) but is also trying really hard to be okay because he doesn't think he has a right to be as heartbroken as he is. Especially not when Eddie tries to talk to him like "I know what It's like to lose someone you love" because Eddie lost his wife and Buck lost the guy he's been dating for like 2months and he's not allowed to be as broken by it as he is.

And then eventually Tommy is found and Buck hears it on the news and finally just breaks down sobbing.

Meanwhile Tommy thinks he'd have gotten over him because he's been living on a lil island longer than they were dating and then they spend like a month just glued to each other.

[reliablejoukido]

Digimon LOST AU Headcanons part 2/? - Early Koushiro-centric stuff

Made for @izumikoushiroweek and also for my Digimon Lost AU! Headcanons under the cut

Koushiro Izumi:

Age: 25

Flight main section/beach camp

Koushiro is technical minded and analytical, and also deeply curious.

He has a hard time believing the Island contains real supernatural elements. He believes it’s digital, a realistic simulation/virtual reality like a holodeck from Star Trek. His beliefs are constantly being put to the test as he dedicates himself to studying the Island

From the moment they land on the island and Koushiro is alert, he searches desperately for his carry on luggage that contained his laptop. His smart watch screen shattered in the crash and doesn’t work. His phone seems to be somewhere in the wreckage or in the ocean

It seems no one has cell phone that will turn on or function in any capacity, which distresses Koushiro a great deal. He can’t even check to see if there’s cell service wherever they crashed. Statistically speaking since there are two dozen people here both alive and dead, shouldn’t someone’s phone work? He is still determined to get to his laptop in the off chance it functions

Koushiro watches as Jou and Taichi try to save people after the initial crash. He doesn’t know what he can do right now— he’s squeamish and definitely feeling the shock and trauma of surviving a plane crash. So he just continues looking for working tech. He does not find his laptop (at least for now) and is REALLY mad he didn’t bring his satellite phone on the flight

When they retrieve a radio transceiver from the cockpit, Koushiro goes on an expedition with Mimi and Jou to find a high enough area to get a signal. When they finally do get a signal, it’s a repeating distress call from someone who claims she’s been stranded on the Island for three years (this eventually turns out to be Meiko Mochizuki)

Flashback: For two years, Koushiro has been the CEO of a tech company in Tokyo that focuses on virtual reality. They have been making astounding breakthroughs since he started, and are almost ready to launch the next generation of virtual reality that can help people who are sick or bedridden. He wants to prove that even though he’s young and not very personable, he can be a good CEO and make a difference in the world through his technology.

Flashback: Through a mysterious informant, Koushiro learns that there is a handful of engineers in the company working behind his back to steal tech secrets and start a company of their own or possibly sell information. Koushiro is non-confrontational and doesn’t know what to do with this situation

Flashback: He learns that a few of these conniving employees are traveling to California to potentially make a deal with a US tech company to sell Koushiro’s company’s secrets. He takes time off work to follow them, but still doesn’t know what to do.

Flashback: Koushiro lands at LAX and plans to take a connecting flight to Silicon Valley. But his informant suddenly asks to meet him in person in Los Angeles. Koushiro feels like he’s being strung along on a potential wild goose chase at this point, but agrees to meet. The informant, who Koushiro doesn’t recognize, is a man named Haruhiko Takenouchi, who researches mythology, folklore, and anthropology. He believes Koushiro’s company can bring folklore creatures to life in the real world and can be used to study them. Koushiro is skeptical that his technology could bring to life something worth studying, as they can only input data they already have. They can’t “create life”, digital or otherwise. Mr. Takenouchi is insistent. He’s concerned the people trying to steal tech secrets from Koushiro are going to use it for the wrong reasons, and he wants to stop that. Koushiro… doesn’t know what to make of this. Mr. Takenouchi and Koushiro fail to track down the conniving employees, and it is suggested Koushiro return home to Tokyo from Los Angeles.

As the story on the Island progresses and they encounter monsters and strange occurrences, at first Koushiro believes this place is virtual reality, possibly his own company’s doing. That this place is inorganic and digital. As Koushiro learns more about the Island, he starts to doubt his theories. He wonders if Haruhiko Takenouchi sent him here on purpose to study the kind of tech that can create “life” without a data input. He becomes deeply entrenched in the lore of the Island. He wants to know why everyone was called here, why he was called here, and if there’s something they’re supposed to do. Koushiro wants to know what makes the Island tick— he wants to rip it apart at the seams.

He is sometimes at odds with those who are trying to get off the Island. At first he thinks the people aren’t real to begin with. But as it becomes apparent the people around him are very real, he starts to think they need to stay on the Island to accomplish something important.

[oolhan]

Too Many Beds

welp. I've managed to make some decent writing out of @waywardangel-wilds's blog about reversed tropes lol. This is unbeta-ed and all so here goes nothing!

Part 2 is here and 3 is already up here

Part 1:

It started innocently enough. Their friend group after college always had an annual trip somewhere far from their busy lives from their respective cities. Three years ago, they did the Bahamas with Delly's boyfriend Thom as their local tourist guide. Because of the good weather and the white sands, the island was packed with tourists. They almost fought the receptionist of a dingy motel just to secure four tiny spaces. One for the couple, another for Finnick and Gale, Johanna and Annie's, and the last door for both of them.

Katniss and Peeta, bestfriends since childhood. Witnessed each other's puberty and insecurities, pulling all nighters just to be handed with diplomas, presenting those diplomas in countless job hunts. Found themselves only a block away from their workplaces, Katniss a columnist for the city's paper, Peeta baking all day at the nearby posh pastry shop.

So, sharing the tiny bed for two nights in a vacation shouldn't be weird at all, right? They've seen it all. Almost.

So, they did. Ironically enough it didn't feel weird at all. It felt the opposite, actually. What is that opposite though?

After those two nights of fitful sleep, it became an unspoken agreement they share a room in the next trips. They shared an old rickety bedpost with just a mattress and no duvet covers in some hut in Thailand last two years ago. A mattress with no bedpost when they decided backpacking across Europe was fun and their hostel in Barcelona only had three rooms for the 8 of them. A big enough couch in Austria. Wrestled a tiny blanket in Portugal.

No one in their group questioned their sharing, only teasing glances from Johanna and Annie in that Bahamas trip.  Because it felt natural, it felt fitting.

The conditions were weird, but it was okay. She likes the excuse she gets just to feel his arms spoon her, even just for a night. It became Katniss' favorite thing to anticipate in these vacations. Yet, she's never admitting that to anyone because after they come home and separate again at the airport, some sort of spell dies and only reawakens on next year's trip. For some reason they never sleep together even when visiting the apartment of the other. Really though, it was innocent cuddling between two childhood friends.

Peeta on the other hand, barely keeps it together. Sure, the sharing was innocent, and he likes the feel of her limbs bumping and tying with his own, but God does he want to just cocoon her in his chest, smell the fragrance of her hair, play with the strands, fidget his fingers on the circles of her shoulders. But he knew it's weird to do, and it may only make her uncomfortable.

And so, in those few nights they lay together in the past three years, he musters up most of the restraint he can. Because it was painful enough to just be friends with her, painful enough to hide the fact that he was a goner ever since they were five and never took the chance to confess, painful enough to witness her grow into a beautiful woman and hang out with jerks like Cato in high school and Marvel in college.

He'll fall apart if he admitted his feelings and she break up their friendship. Not when he can get these borrowed moments instead. Not when they're almost 30. Innocent sleeping, right?

No. Not when she wore some skimpy sleep shorts because she complained it was too humid in the tropical island. Not when she can feel his morning wood against her backside on mornings when she's the first to wake. Not when a housekeeper complimented how good of a couple they look when she carried some extra towels in their room, teasing with innuendos on her way out that made both blush and frantic.

Fuck those shorts, he thinks as he tries to pry his eyes away and concentrate on getting the shading right. He was propped up on the bed post, sketching away as a habit before sleeping and he has a good view of her ass bent over the end of her bed, arranging clothes on her luggage.

"What?" She glanced his way. Shit. Did he say that out loud?

"What?" He tries to keep a normal tone, his shading shaky.

"What about these shorts?" She's standing now with her hands on her hip, challenging him. What's wrong with her sleepwear?

"I-" before he could answer though, her phone rings. Her sister was calling all the way from New York, finishing medicine at NYU. Katniss' tone is cheerful when she answered Prim, though her mind lingers in Peeta's soft aggressive whisper. She settled on the bed cross legged.

"Hey! just checking in on you. How's Paris?" Prim's walking while on a video call, and Peeta hears her stride. He abandons his sketchbook and jumps close to Katniss over her shoulder to greet Prim.

"Oh, it's bad, duck. She shits on pain au chocolat. Uncultured and rude. Can you believe that?"

"Shut up! I was only being honest, it's overrated,"

"Honesty is not shitting on food," Woah. He's way too close now. She flusters as she notices the lesser gap. He smells fresh from the shower.

She covers it up with an eyeroll. There.

"I think she just misses your buns, Peeta," They saw Prim wiggle her eyebrows comically in the phone. She rolls her eyes again. God, not Prim too. If Peeta even flushed from the teasing, he doesn't show.

"Where are you off to, anyway?" Katniss steers the conversation, subtly shying away from Peeta.

"I actually have a make-up class in Bio and I'm running late but I wanted to see you for a minute. Paris looks good on you," Prim's video was shaky now from her walk-run.

"Yeah yeah, I'll send you pictures tomorrow morning. Or tonight, or your morning. I don't know," Katniss chuckles.

Peeta loves her most in these moments with her sister. He's always entertained by their sisterly banter and unfiltered bickering. Things far from the physical jokes and pranks from his brothers, like random hard punches on the shoulder or being locked up in the bakery's store room.

"And you finally got your own beds this time! No more cramping in one bed," Prim says, which irritated and startled Katniss enough because ugh, she didn't want to get awkward with Peeta, especially when they already got some tension lingering. She couldn't roll her eyes enough to disperse the growing tension.

"Uh-yeah-finally, Cinna's a bit lavish,"

"Yeah, but that doesn't keep away her snores," Peeta added good naturedly, trying his best not to sound disappointed or whatever.

Because when Cinna decided earlier to welcome the group in his enormous apartment in Paris above his tailoring shop, he became a generous host. Provided them with enough toiletries, towels, full pantry of food, and of course, beds for each of them. Two twin beds per room, and so they divided by couple, leaving Peeta and Katniss staring at the most spacious room they've ever been on their trips.

What if they just move the bedframes together and make one giant fluffy king size mattress?

No, no. That's ridiculous. And stupid. That's like crossing some kind of boundary. So as much as they want to, they remain stubborn and got to unpacking. Besides, they'll only be here for the night. After that they can sleep again together like before in a small Venice hostel tomorrow, right?

"Well, two beds or not, you can always share-"

"Okay goodbye duck, I hope you trip on the sidewalk and fall flatfacewithyourmatchalattespillingalloveryouuu," Katniss taps the end button and tosses her phone on the bed.

"Come on dude, just admit you like sleeping with this," Peeta grabs her hand and press it on her chest, enjoying how she blushes with his and Prim's teasing abilities.

"fuck you, I'll kill you in your sleep," She scowls and pulls her hand away. He's roaring with laughter. She doesn't indulge the fact she likes feeling his broad skin under her palm.

"No seriously, we're used to sleeping side by side. Let's just move the frames... or you can sleep in mine,"

Fuck. Why is he so blunt about this?

"Or I could just sleep with you on this. Ah, so soft," he lays down with his arms cradling his head. He knows she'll be convinced if he tries to play it casually.

Very, very tempting. But Katniss is stubborn, and instead grabs the pillow beneath his head and smack him with it. "Hey!"

"Fuck off my bed Mellark. Go to your own," she directs with little conviction. A little more, just convince me a little more.

He sits up and feigns disappointment, even though he is really disappointed. "I'm serious, let's just sleep together..." He stares her up with those piercing blue eyes.

Tension grows by millimeter with their stare and hitching breaths.

Is he really serious? Is this okay? Why is he so casual about this?

"Just get off my bed, Peeta. It's the first in weeks I can sleep with my head on a real pillow,"

So she's not convinced with casual talk.

A beat.

“Okay fine, just don’t set your alarm so loud,” He stands and reaches for his abandoned sketchbook. She already misses the weight of him on her bed.

“Fine then. Don’t stay up late with the lights on. Opening the window is enough,” she settles on her pillows.

“Fine,”

Blankets rustles on both ends, lamps turn off.

“Goodnight, Peeta…”

“Sweet dreams, Katniss.”

They pretend to not notice the other still not asleep. It was a restless night.