#i love him so much huhu

[hooned]

prince sunghoon

[sunkissedlouis]

face of our sappy cutie that said “is me and you, innit?” 🥺❤️

[solifloris]

i have someone i must protect.

[tuckboroughdays]

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 ⏖ ’ lotr hdc! DATING pippin's version 🫶🏻

so, there is some headcanon about my boy. at the beginning i wanted to do a sfw alphabet, but it quickly annoyed me to order my ideas by themes (affection, cuddles, etc). so i just wrote random hdc.

BUT you can find in this all the themes of a sfw alphabet ! its just chaotic lol.

+ in my head i imagine the reader as a human but its not truly specific, its also for a hobbit!reader too. and i tried to make it the most non-genred as possible.

just remember that english is not my first language !! i do a lot of mistakes but i prefer use my brain than an a.i...

you can reuse my hdc but make sure to tag me ! :D

enjoy this post about my bf :3

he baby

he's so gentle, both emotionally and physically

pookie just needs love and hugs

holding hands !! he loves playing with your fingers.

likes to braid your hair

 loves hot baths with a lot of candles all over the edge, and when you wash his back and hair. hes a fan of massages btw

loves being cuddled by you, and falling asleep in your arms. he doesn't need a specific moment for this, this is why you both can sleep a whole afternoon and being wake up all the night after it.

breakfast to bed !! and he can stay in the bed all the day if youre in too, he would never leave your arms if he could. he loves being in the bed with you the morning, bc your body is all warm from sleep and when he's snuggled against you, its like heaven. 

does nightmares bc of the war of the ring. A LOT. mostly about the time when he had been kidnapped by the orcs with Merry.

he wakes up all sweaty and trembling, frightened of every sound around him. he'll take some shaky breaths into the crook of your neck while you wrap your arms around him and eventually fall asleep.

or if its a really hard nightmare, he'll cry a lot, and thanks god youre here to stay with him. whisper gentle things in hear until he calms down, and after make him a sandwich or a toast of jam, with hot milk, and he will tell you what his nightmare was about. 

he's pretty open about it, and tells you a lot about hard memories that stays in his mind most of the time : the orcs, Moria, the Palantir, and also Minas Tirith, with Denethor burning alive. 

in a more global way, i think Pippin is really open about all his life, talking about everything to everyone, so you might know all about him even before your relationship lmao

you can always see when he's upset : his mood changes completely. he'll tell you whats happening or maybe not, if he's angry (maybe he argued w Merry or smth like that).

but he doesn't get angry a lot. never yelling at you, etc. when he's upset (because of you), he'll pout or being sad rather than angry. you'll also know it if he's not eating or talking as much as usual.

counts a lot on Merry's advices for your relationship, for example if he's scared to do or tell you something. btw im sure Merry will coach him for losing his virginity, if it happens w/ you

loves to be with you, your heads under the covers, and just staring at your face

TOUCH HIS HAIR. he's just craving for it. its better than a foreplay, especially if you run your fingers trough his curls while you're kissing.

doesn't know how to use his tongue when he hisses you, he panick and will slobb on your nose or smth like this lol. so he prefers just made out softly ; its quite more simple and it gives him butterflies

if you have some oversize clothes, like a sweat or a large t-shirt, he'll wear it. and if its not too small-sized for you (human!reader), he'll give you his own shirts sometimes and will be very proud.

loves touching and kissing your skin where its so soft, for example your inner arms or tighs. yeah bc he loves your tighs too

it doesn't matter for him if you are fat or thin. that's the best thing when youre dating a hobbit : the wheight doesn't matter for someone who eats 6 meals/days. if youre thin hell try to make you eat a lot, and if youre not he'll find this totally normal. he loves bellies btw.

things to do to make his heart flutter : kissing his nose, his fingers, hugging him when youre asleep, talking very close to his ear (im sure hobbits ears are sooo sensitive !!!!), running your fingers in his hair, or on his back under his shirt.

some random sensitive spots : his ears, his lower back, his hair. he also has a spot in his neck, veeery sensitive, where you can feel and also see his pulse. (THIS IS CANNON. you can see this in rotk when he talks with Gandalf during the battle of Minas Tirith, and Gandalf says that the journey doesn't end here, etc. i noticed it when i saw the movie on great screen and i was like : KJEFKJHZEFHJHFBJBHJHHFJHJRAHHHHH)

loves body milk which smell like honey, almond, shea butter, or vanilla. so put some of it on you and hell smell you all day.

his fav thing ? slipping his head under what youre wearing and just inhaling your scent. he can sleep like this, layed under your clothes on ur chest or belly.

Pippin wants to marry you as soon as possible and spending the rest of his life by your side, but its not a big new : he sooo idealistic, and a bit delusional. 

btw, this may be some of his defects. this guy is amazing but i think he lacks maturity and can't be realistic for the responsabilites of life sometimes.

also, since he's dating you, he spends all his time by your side ; so he might have abandoned some of his habits like hanging out with Merry, go at parties, etc

LOVES childrens. he would kidnap Sam's or his sister's ones if he could. loves to babysit but not really responsible... but he makes babies laugh and he's an icon for young lads

fav dates spots : in a forest, a midow or a field.

likes rolling in the grass, making flower crowns, doing picnics.

put flowers in his hair

loves being adventurous with you in random places, like in a barn ; he'll pull you in a haystack and kiss you everywhere he can, and will have a lot of straw in hir hair and his cheeks all red at the end. (just make sure to run fast if the barn owner surprises you both)

when he gets jealous, he never shows it obviously or gets angry, but he can be a bit sad. he will impose himself in front of other lads who are trying to fancy you (hobbit!reader), but if its a human who are trying to, (human!reader), hell being a bit insecure, bc he doesn't understand how you can love him, a small hobbit, and not a tall, badass human. so just put a lot of kisses on his cutie face and tell him he's amazing, and he'll be alright.

doesn't know how to cook. he's also veeery messy. sometimes its fun but its also a bit annoying. 

he doesn't act like "you're my wife/husband then to make the dinner and clean the smial" ofc, but because he doesn't know how to do all of this by himself, he needs someone to help him.

so maybe the best option is to learn him how to cook, and romanticing the idea of daily chores. i think that doing this with Pippin could quickly be fun. 

random hugs in any places, any time. he will just jump on you and wrap his arms around you

loves nuzzling his face into the crook of your shoulder or your neck

fav sleep position : your nose in his hair with your arms around him, and him flushed against you

is mostly the one being cuddled

he's the little spoon ofc

and when having sex, mostly missionary or when youre on top. i just can't imagine others. imagining Pippin Took having sex is already too weird, so lets say its all gentle and soft, never doggy position or something like this BRUH-

dy imagine him as a bad boy in a dark romance ?! he's such more the dominated one than the dominant one

he's not selfish or vainglorious. but i think after the war, he liked to tell everyone about his "exploits". and also to staring at himself in a mirror, to see "how strong and tall he becaome". if you catch him, he'll be all red and embarrassed, and won't admit what he was doing.

i aslo think hes a bit insecure about your height difference (human!reader) and jealous of other human guys. 

becomes all red when you compliment him

often brings you flowers, rocks or random things that are just remind him of you. his flowers are not like a wonderful rose bouquet, but rather a crumpled flower that he found really pretty.

if you have some hobbies like yarning, knitting, drawing, he will appears behind you, his head on your shoulder, "what are you doing ? is that for me ?" etc, and will love to distract you in any ways possible

also when you're doing selfcare, like painting your nails (fem!reader), brushing your hair, putting cream on you, or even shaving, he'd like to do it for you

he shows his love and affection toward you by actions rather than words, but can say a random "i love you" in a middle of a conversation (IMAGINE HIM SAYING THIS WITH HIS SCOTTISH ACCENT KJHEBHJZEHBJZHB IM SCREAMING)

your arms = his safe place

will remember every. single. thing. you told him about yourself

always try to be the best for you, even though you're telling him that he's already perfect, it's never enough for him.

[wysteriaisapenguin]

Decided to revise my Smitten design cause I wasn't satisfied with the outfit I gave him. Hopefully this one looks even better! It's what he deserves~

Some other voice refs I’ve done: Skeptic Paranoid

[randomstoriesandwhatnot]

AAAAAAAAAAAA

[xichilie]

i was the one who requested hurt/comfort Brant fic. THANK YOU FOR GRANTING MY REQUEST&FEEDING MY DELULU(≧ᗜ≦) (sorry for bad english huhu T^T)

And I'm here for requesting again! Wdyt abt Brant take care over his spouse who's got very very very drunk, but his spouse who's usually calm&quiet now becomes all flirty and touchy here&there (giving him ton of kisses on his face)? And Brant's response? He's become a COMPLETELY BLUSHING MESS! Head empty bcs how clingy and affectionate she became!

But if you have another scenario let's go with yours! I just wanna see him nervous with red face honestly (sorry /j). That's all! Thank you again pookie! May your Brant&his weapon come early♡!

TOMORROW, OUR BOY WILL FINALLY HAVE HIS BANNER

I wish you and all Brant wanters, Aventurines luck. All brant wanters will be brant havers 😌🤍

_____

Drunk on Love

The fires in Fool’s Elysium burned bright, casting flickering gold across the cavern walls as the Troupe of Fools celebrated another successful performance. The air was thick with laughter, the scent of roasted meat and spiced wine swirling between the revelers, and Brant was, as usual, at the center of it all.

“And then, as the guards closed in, I told them, ‘Ah, but gentlemen, surely you wouldn’t lay hands on a humble man of the arts!’” Brant spun dramatically, arms flaring out. “And just as they hesitated—boom! Gone in a puff of smoke!”

The crowd around him erupted in laughter and cheers, toasting his theatrics. Brant grinned, preening under the attention—until something, or rather someone, latched onto him from behind.

Warm arms wrapped around his waist, a face pressed into his back, and a voice—soft but undeniably intoxicated—murmured, “Brant.”

He barely had time to react before Y/N, usually so calm and composed, turned him around and clung to him.

Brant blinked. “Oh.”

Y/N was flushed, her expression dreamily affectionate, her grip firm as she buried her face against his chest.

“…Oh,” Brant repeated, a slow grin spreading across his face. “Well, well, what do we have here?”

He tilted her chin up, gazing down at her with playful curiosity. “Darling, you look like you’ve had quite the generous helping of wine. Enjoying yourself, are we?”

She pouted. “Mmhmm. But you—” She poked his chest. “You talk too much.”

Brant gasped theatrically. “Me? Talk too much? Impossible.”

Y/N squinted at him like she was trying to solve a great mystery, then sighed dramatically. “You’re so pretty,” she murmured, almost to herself. “Not fair.”

Brant chuckled. “I can’t say I disagree—”

Before he could finish, she cupped his face and kissed his cheek.

Brant’s brain stuttered.

The surrounding Fools whistled and hooted, but Brant barely heard them. He was too busy trying to process the fact that Y/N—reserved, steady, unshakable Y/N—was pressing soft, lingering kisses along his jaw, moving dangerously close to his mouth.

He stiffened, heat rushing to his face. “Y-Y/N—”

Another kiss, this time right at the corner of his lips.

Brant squeaked.

His usual charm crumbled. He, Brant—smooth talker, silver-tongued rogue, shameless flirt—was suddenly incapable of forming a coherent sentence.

“Alright, alright, I think someone needs a little fresh air,” he managed, voice pitched slightly higher than usual.

Without waiting for her response, he swept her into his arms, ignoring the smug looks and snickers from the others as he carried her toward his quarters.

Y/N only hummed contentedly, resting her head against his shoulder. “You smell nice.”

Brant stumbled.

The journey through the winding tunnels of Fool’s Elysium had never felt so long. By the time he reached his private space—an alcove filled with scattered notes, fabrics, and an absurd number of pillows—his heart was pounding.

He set her down gently, exhaling. “Alright, darling, let’s get you settled—”

But Y/N didn’t let go.

Instead, she tugged him down with surprising strength, pulling him onto the cushions beside her.

Brant let out a very ungraceful sound as he landed, his back hitting the soft bedding, and before he could react, Y/N straddled his lap.

Brant stopped breathing.

She leaned in, her fingers tracing his collarbone before sliding lower, over the fabric of his shirt. “You’re so handsome,” she murmured.

Brant’s brain was gone. Utterly, completely gone.

“Y-Y/N—darling, you—you’re very drunk right now,” he stammered. “I think you should rest—”

She ignored him, her fingers working at the buttons of his shirt. His breath hitched as she pushed the fabric aside, exposing the faint, intricate glow of his Tacet mark against his skin.

Y/N’s eyes widened in wonder. Gently, reverently, she traced the mark with her fingertips.

Brant whimpered.

No one ever touched his Tacet mark. It was sacred, sensitive, and yet here she was, mapping every line and swirl with delicate fingers. His entire body tensed, his skin burning under her touch.

“Y/N,” he choked out. “If you—keep doing that—I might actually die.”

She giggled. Giggled.

“You’re cute when you’re flustered,” she mused.

Brant let out a strangled sound, somewhere between a groan and a laugh, dragging a hand over his face. “Oh, you are never going to let me live this down, are you?”

She beamed at him, and gods, she was beautiful.

Then she kissed his forehead.

His breath caught.

Then his nose.

His heartbeat thundered.

Then both his cheeks, her lips soft and warm, her hands cradling his face like he was something precious.

Brant shattered.

“Alright, that’s enough, you dangerous woman,” he rasped, his voice uneven. With a dramatic flourish (that was only slightly desperate), he flipped them over, pinning her beneath him.

Y/N gasped, blinking up at him with wide, hazy eyes. “Brant?”

He smirked, though his face was still bright red. “My turn.”

He leaned down—slowly, deliberately—and pressed a single, lingering kiss to her forehead.

Her breath hitched.

Then, with exaggerated care, he kissed her nose.

Her fingers curled into his shirt.

Then, finally, finally, he brushed his lips against her cheek, just barely, before pulling back with a triumphant grin.

“How’s that for theatrics, darling?” he teased.

Y/N’s face was scarlet.

Brant chuckled, pleased with himself—until she pulled him down again, burying her face against his chest with a sleepy sigh.

“Warm…” she mumbled. “Stay.”

Brant softened.

He sighed dramatically but wrapped his arms around her, resting his chin atop her head. “You are going to be the death of me,” he murmured, but there was no heat behind the words.

Y/N hummed in contentment. Within moments, her breathing slowed, her body relaxed against his, and she drifted into sleep.

Brant lay there for a long time, listening to the steady rhythm of her heartbeat.

“…I am so in love with you,” he muttered to himself, utterly doomed.

And for once, the ever-charming Brant had no idea what to do about it.

Brant had been in many thrilling, perilous situations in his life—performing daring acts on stage, conning pompous nobles, escaping armed guards, even staring down the Dragon of Dirge. But nothing, nothing, had ever left him as utterly helpless as this.

Y/N was clinging to him in her sleep.

Not just loosely holding onto him—oh no—she had wrapped herself around him, arms tucked beneath his coat, face pressed against his chest, and legs tangled with his own. She was warm, impossibly warm, her breath tickling his skin as she sighed contentedly in her slumber.

Brant was losing his mind.

His face was burning, his heart hammering against his ribs like a drumbeat in a grand performance. He had tried—tried—to gently pry her off when he had first realized the situation, but the second he moved, she had whined softly and only held on tighter.

He was doomed.

With an exaggerated sigh, he flopped back onto the cot, staring at the ceiling of his little cavern home. "This is my life now," he murmured to himself, though the complaint held no real weight.

He glanced down at her, a fond smile tugging at his lips despite his still-racing heart. Her expression was so peaceful, so utterly at ease. It made something deep in his chest ache.

Carefully—so carefully—he let his hand move, brushing along her back in slow, comforting strokes. She sighed again, nuzzling closer. Brant bit his lip, trying to suppress the giddy, ridiculous smile threatening to spread across his face.

"Oh, you’re dangerous," he whispered, shaking his head in amused defeat. "Too dangerous."

But as much as he should be trying to escape, he… didn’t want to.

For all his theatrics, for all his flair and bravado, Brant was a man who had gone years without a true place to belong. He had always been the fool, the outcast, the man who danced on the fringes of society. Yet here she was, clinging to him like he was something precious, like he was safe.

He swallowed hard, his fingers absentmindedly tracing small circles against her back.

Maybe, just this once, he’d allow himself to believe it.

With a deep breath, he closed his eyes and allowed himself to relax.

If this was the price of taking care of her, of having her trust him enough to cling to him even in sleep…

Then he would gladly let himself be tangled in her warmth for as long as she would have him.

[hooned]

SUNGHOON @ The Seasons ( Polaroid Love )

[acid-ixx]

to you, my greatest passion (soft yandere! batfam x traumatized! reader oneshot)

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

tw: allusions to stockholm syndrome, flawed relationship (they have no concept of boundaries) and mild descriptions of injuries and torture (not by the batfam). read until the end for an author's note. happy 4k followers to me :)) uh leave comments if u like this type of analysis and want to see more. i had no direction for writing this. please don't let this flop huhu i might delete this since i don't like it

as much as i love my angst, we all need something soft at times, and moments with yan!batfam with a reader who is absolutely fucking broken from their past that the mere implication that someone could love them is enough to let them melt into whoever's chest they lay upon that night.

just, hurt/comfort. one that heals the soul in its overly possessive embrace. the same way chapped lips peck softly on your cheeks, muscled arms caress your fragile, shivering body, and legs tangle upon yours in a cacophony of warm, cozy blankets.

where as the longer time passes in the manor, the more you learn to love. to let go of the painful memories your tormenters left you. to allow past scars to heal into a mere visage of what once was streaks coated in blood. your family acts as your new abductors, yes, but how could you hold your freedom against them when it is them that comfort you from drowning through the deepest depths of your nightmares?

nightmares of the past, of the knives that break through your already gashed skin, or the ropes that burn through bruises and laceration— every time you wake up crying, with tears running down your cheeks and a pained cry; a recollection of the torture you were subject to, it is them that come running to your room not a moment after.

it's bruce's tall, domineering form that crumbles into soft, snug pillows for you. your father arms that punches criminals into prison become the shoulder you lean on. calloused fingers rub your cheeks, wiping away your tears, holding your face in his palms like you're the most fragile thing on earth— and you are. every time he looks at your dampened eyes and sniffling nose, he gets reminded of how lonely he was as a child, who lost his parent too young to the cruelty of the world, of gotham and her unyielding coldness. and when he reminisces, he begins to cage you in his arms a tad bit tighter, begins to comfort you longer and softer than he has ever done with anyone else, as if he is reassuring himself. it is with you that his vulnerability, that fear of loss becomes all too stronger. and every time you cry a bit longer, your hold on his sleeves becoming unyielding, does bruce become crueler in his pursuit of fighting crime, a lesson to himself that the people he punishes are those with hands capable enough to harm you, his precious, his pearl that glints throughout the moonlight.

whenever your father is unavailable, it's dick who runs to you, with all the intention to provide you comfort. it's him who calls you his baby bird, as he reassures you that you're no burden in his eyes every time you scream in terror as your sleep. it's him who loves to drown you in his affection, always near, always close, never far and never too much. physically, he's the most doting to a fault. tender, yet tight were his hugs. his kisses to your cheeks and your forehead always linger, as if hesitant to release itself from its rightful place. it's a testiment to how much he loves you, how he's incapable of separating himself from you. god, he loves you so much he wishes he'd just melt right into your skin, so that you actually finally realize how you're the most important thing in the world to him. you, his baby bird. if he had met you sooner, quite earlier, right after his parent's have died, then maybe he could've managed his anger better, could've learned to cope with you through the battles you both fought. it's with you that dick feel unbearably euphoric, ready to spill his love to the point where tears consume his eyes and his head laid on your chest refuses to detach itself.

jason isn't familiar with what warmth feels like, not anymore. but when he sees your hapless state, he sees a reflection of himself in that abandoned warehouse. broken, defiled, hurt. with nothing to comfort you from the cold other than the ropes that burn through your skin and the adrenaline that runs through your veins. he forgots what solace feels like, what it means, but through your shared trauma does jason learn. he learns to talk to you, with you, learns to pinpoint each and every emotion he felt at the time, what you felt inside that putrid basement. he learns to manage his grief because he doesn't want to anger himself looking at you, at just how much justice can only serve so many. the longer you talk to jason, the more he becomes softer, yet hungrier. he learns how to hold you in a way a brother learns to hold his baby sibling for the first time when conceived. he relearns the warmth he felt, like when he was finally able to be good enough to be the successor to the title of robin, when he felt you drool on his chest when you trusted him enough to sleep in his room. yet this time that feeling was accompanied with that ominous, distracting essence. one that makes jason's knuckles crack and have him prepare his guns, as he discovers that you can never truly erase the past. and even though it might take years for him to be your ideal brother, he could at least be your sole protector.

then there's tim, who never truly had the opportunity to develop that deeper sense of love he wanted to feel until he was officially adopted into the wayne family right after his parents' death. don't get him wrong, he loves his mom and dad, and so does he loves his current family— but it's obsession that drives him nonetheless. the need to prove himself, to gather information about everyone to know who they truly are; beyond that there's nothing more than shallowness, a neverending hole he can't satisfy. but with you? oh god, you. to tim, you're his everything. you devour his being whole. with you, there's always something new. the need to track every single thing about you leads him into this cycle of want and need that coagulates into desire, into drive. every time you smile, or laugh, or frown, he gains newer intel about you, one he loops into the deepest crevices of his brain at a constant, you are his constant. but staying right behind you can only do so much. and as he sits right beside you in bed, awkwardly comforting you through the ways he mirrored off from his brothers: a sloppy kiss to your knuckles, a joke cracked here and there, and wiping your eyes and nose with his sleeves; tim learns that stalking can only do so much. he learns what it feels like to be needed for emotional connection and nothing else and that only further motivates him to be perfect for you, and to be with you, his sibling, more often than to simply live right under your nose.

and damian, your baby brother, who's unsurprisingly the one who sleeps in your room, or has you sleep in his room, the most. damian tells himself he's incapable of love, of showing it or reciprocating it. but for you, he tries, and like jason, he learns. he discovers just how depraved both of you are when it comes to love. it enlightens you both and it makes damian feel a deeper sense of connection with you than anyone else. with you, he feels like a child: vulnerable, yet uncaring and free, like the true meaning of being a robin, one the soars through the skies with no grandfather or mother or league to watch your every step as their successor. all the times you cry, he silently sobs with you, holding your cheeks down to his level with scarred palms. silent, yet comforting, he'd allow his smaller form to simply become your teddy bear whilst he whispers consolations. about how strong his older sibling is, how precious you are for being comfortable with him to speak of your problems, how you're everything to damian just as he wishes to be the world for you. it makes you think you're more immature that him, it makes him grateful that he has you. even though he doesn't say it, he shows through actions just how truly important you are whenever he draws a sword towards his enemies, thinking about you and his unsaid promises.

nights where you're reminded of that solitary confinement, of the darkness that creeps into your vision and the voices that pierce through your ears. nights where you feel you've exhausted yourself of hope, where what was once warmth that hugs your heart is now that frigid, yet burning spikes that penetrates into the confidence that you'll somehow, someday, run away from that hellhole— those were nights you thought you'd never live with proper sleep. but as one or two of them holds you in their embrace whenever your nightmares consume your being, you're slowly allowing your established walls to fall apart, all for the mere implication of their love.

who would save you, if not for them? their hushed whispers of consolation, hands that wrap around your figure, and fingers that knead your cheeks provide you that deep sated comfort you always wanted. the sleeves they use to wipe away both saltine liquid and snot, to slowly silence your blubbering rambles, your inconsolable crying; it's warmer than the basement you used to be locked in as a child, with dripping faucets the only source of your water— they saved you once before, who's to say they won't save you a thousand times more?

every time you feel like crying, every time that familiar faulty tap in your eyes begins to dampen against ashen skin, it's them that asks you if you're alright. even if you grit your teeth, even if you seeth or bite or beat or punch or kick, to punish yourself, to cope through the trauma, to not feel nothing.

every time pain begins to sear through your skin, it's your grandfather, father, brothers and sisters that huddle around you and tell you 'you're safe here, in the manor, with us'.

every time they spend hours, ditching patrol nights, cooking your comfort food, reading your favorite books, watching movies for hours, ignoring your assigned sleep schedule, kissing your scarred hands gently, reverently, cuddling your form against their strong ones as a silent promise that with them, there's nothing to harm you no more— you'd feel lighter every time, a tad happier, even. slowly, but surely, melting against the confines of your adorned cage and the embrace of your loving captors.

every time they help you heal, it makes you forgive, and it makes you forget their prior kidnapping in return of building new memories with them, in a safer haven, with nobody to hurt you any longer, with nobody to bash your head against concrete walls, to punish you. you who is underserving of the circumstances bought upon you back then.

safe, a word you thought you'll never feel, a word you didn't even know existed in the crevices of your heart. but it is with them that you slowly start to associate safe with family.

the family that you've come to love and cherish in your own imperfect ways, the same way a stray dog becomes too loyal to a passerby when given bones for leftovers every day.

but you're not an animal, and you're not a pavlovian dog meant to be conditioned. no, you're their baby, their love, their treasure and their only one. the love they feed you exceeds beyond leftovers. only you can devour them wholly, the same way they cloak your world in the love that fills that neverending pit in your heart.

you're not biologically related to any of them in any way, too. yet it was all a matter of coincidence that they stumbled upon you.

but really, past is past.

then is then.

now it's just you and them.

it's you, with them.

just your family. overbearing, overprotective, overpowering.

but nothing is always over to you. their love isn't too much. how could you tell yourself it's too much? not when you were never given a basis of what is too much. how is one too much when you were never even given enough?

trust is built upon a foundation of connecting with others who can relate with you one way or another, who can see past through your flaws and mistakes— it's a bond that precedes mere acquaintanceship.

you might've met them later than everyone else, but it's you that completes them.

you're the puzzle that completes the family photographs, the goal for bruce to continue his legacy as batman and to ward off all evil, the inspiration for dick to be that aspiring hero everyone sees him to be, the reason jason begins to reform himself for your sake, the purpose for tim's endless pursuit of knowledge, the muse for damian's painting, the subject for his love he thought was no more, the ambition for steph's prolongation despite her countless of failures, the motivation for barbara to seek out all the criminals who have harmed you, the influence for cass to be stronger to protect you, the catalyst for duke to use his metahuman abilities for good, to take out those who walk in broad daylight, as if they weren't involved in your past tortures.

you're everything that they are.

their sunshine and moonlight, their companionship and loneliness, their pain and pleasure, their yin and yan.

their greatest passion.

a/n: hii guys erm. this is so sudden and also counts as a rant but yk... i feel like quitting this blog but at the same time not. it's just, i feel like writing has been more of an obligation than anything else. it doesn't help the fact that i've only been getting interaction if i were to actually produce something good. beyond that, it feels like people are expecting more of me. i get it, updates are sporadic, they appear in the blink of an eye when you least expect it, but at the same time it's just hard juggling what i want to write and what i feel like i need to write. this blog was primarily to post about my thoughts and to talk to people but lately, every time i open this app to write, i feel these plethora of thoughts and expectations telling me that if i don't do well enough then people would merely ignore whatever i post or it's just bad by standards. and yes i'm grateful for all the people supporting my writing, but at the same time i'm lead to a cycle of me losing my motivation to continue writing. ugh idk what im doing anymore help :((

tl;dr: will i stop writing? no, but at the same time i don't know. someday, i may deactivate this account out of impulse if i feel too much, or not. it depends hehe.

[jonggunkitten]

Its not my first time reading this but my heart still.. sink💔💔💔 i love Gun's so much

i have a silly little (very angsty) idea but im not sure if its what you would be comfortable writing so please ignore this if youre not up for it!

im thinking of gun, goo, samuel, vasco, and eli (seperately + remove anyone u want if its too many) with a recovering addict reader who they thought was clean but had actually relapsed awhile ago and they find out (whether its bc reader ODs, they catch reader high, they find readers stash, whatever reason)

sorry if this is a sensitive subject, they j tend to help me a lot, thank you in advance whether you write it or not.

TW: Substance recovery

Hi Anon, I hope you are doing ok. Stay strong, you can do this. Please ping me if you ever want to talk or vent. I really wasn't sure about writing this because my experience is sorta limited. But hopefully this helps.

Lookism Boys helping with Recovery

Gun, Goo, Samuel, Vasco, Eli

You've felt the symptoms of withdrawal before; the cold sweat, the nausea, the shaking. This isn't the first time you tried to quit but you hoped it was the last.

However, all this was caused by your boyfriend standing in front of you. Your body violently registers what is in their hand before your brain can. Your stash, your just-in-case, and you want to throw up.

You slump to the floor, head hanging in shame. Too ashamed and guilty to meet their eyes, to find disappoint and anger at the promises you've broken.

Gun has seen a lot of things in his life so far. A lot of people addicted to a lot of things, and himself is no different. He thinks about the cigarettes in his pocket, and his own unhealthy obsession with fighting - that he is very willing to give his life up for.

With you, he understands the struggle, the pull. The battle everyday.

"Y/N," he says, crouching down next to you and taking your hand in his.

Your name is soft on his lips, and finally you meet his jet-black eyes. To your surprise you see no judgement.

Gun places a tender kiss on your forehead, "What can I do?"

"Princess-" Goo starts, and he can see you flinching. He can be unrelenting with his sharp words but he would never- Never with you, and never when you're so vulnerable.

His voice softens, "Have you been-"

He doesn't need to finish your sentence and you're already vehemently shake your head. You need to let Goo know that it's not what he thinks. You haven't been using, you've just been keeping that around.

And now you think about the words to explain yourself, you realise how stupid that sounds.

The silence stretches.

"Hey," and Goo is next to you, an arm around your shoulder, "I want you around for a long time and a good time, ok?" He wipes the tears from your cheeks. "Your Goo-bear is here for you."

Samuel crouches down next to you, but you still can't bring yourself to look at him.

With careful hands, he tilts your face up to meet him and thumbs away your tears.

"You haven't?" he asks, and you say no, leaning into the comfort of his palm.

Samuel thinks about what he can do, and after a beat, announces that he's going to take some time off work. Your immediate thought is he's trying to keep an eye on you, he needs to babysit you, he doesn't trust-

"Y/N." And that stop your brain from spiralling. He knows you too well. "You're not alone."

Samuel presses a kiss to each of your eyelid, kissing the tears away, "I think we both deserve a break. Why don't we go away somewhere together?"

Old Vasco would react with anger and disbelief. Now, after talking to you, after educating himself, he tries. He really tries.

Something he had to do without Jace, or any of the Burn Knuckles because he wouldn't betray your trust like that.

And the more he reads, the more he understands. Sort of. Vasco still sees the world in black and white, but more and more shades of grey are entering.

"Is there more?" he asks, and you shake your head. "I'm just going to..." he trails off, binning everything he found before he seeks you out again.

It kills him to see you struggling, to struggle everyday. he wants to support you anyway he can.

"I'll never fully understand but. Y/N. I want to help."

Eli has made many mistakes in his life. He thinks about Heather, he thinks about Hostel, he thinks about Olly and his own drug use.

But you and him, that's not a mistake. That's so far from a mistake.

"I didn't know you were still using," and you hear the question in his voice. His desperation to prove him wrong

"I'm not!" You deny, and it's the absolute truth.

Not since Eli and not since Yenna. And with Eli, the unfortunate reality is that his love for you is contingent on this.

That he won't allow anything like this around his daughter, and you can't blame him.

"Y/N," and his eyes soften when you meet them, "I'm really proud of you."

[crepezinhos]

Hello! I love your writing by the way and how you interpret Scaramouche/ wanderer is just 🤌🤌🤌

I would like to know your opinion about, what if there was an au where both Scaramouche and reader are in college. Reader takes on medical technology where she studied all about microbiology and all that stuffs and giz. When all of a sudden their professor tasked them that they would need to bring their own sperm cell for this assignment but reader doesn't know where to get some. But then it hit her, she finally knows someone who could help and all she needs is a little persuasion.

You don't have to answer it though or reply to it. It just an idea I had stuck in my brain for awhile huhu. But all in all, your writing is so good and well thought out and I would like to see how this turns out. Anyways love you and hope that you listen to it hihi >🩷��

Spurm of the Moment

POV: You need sperm to do a project in your biology class, but you’re a woman, and cannot get it in your own. You could get it in sperm banks, but that would probably cost you money... So why not use your dear friend to get that sperm?

⚠️ WARNINGS:

— This is NSFW work

— Reader is FEMALE and uses SHE/HER pronouns

— Contains: Blindfolding, bondage and overstimulation

— Wanderer x Biomedic Reader

— AU is: Modern

“Are you sure I have to be like this?” Wanderer asked as he tried pulling his arms away from the chair’s arm rests, testing out the ropes’ strength.

“Please, we both know how you are. You barely let me hug you when we’re hanging out already. Do you really think you’d let me do this to you freely? Don’t make me laugh…” You asked while still kneeling down in front of him, tightening the last rope around his left leg.

“What about the blindfold, then? How is that helping you?” But he kept trying to challenge you’d expect from him.

“I don’t want you to… witness.” You cleared your throat as you stood up from your spot.

“Oh? But you can take off my pants and jack my dick off as you wish?” You could still see his eyebrows frowning even if the blindfold covered his purple eyes. “Y’know, why didn’t you just ask me to jack off on my own?” He kept moving his hands in diverse ways as he spoke, enjoying one of the few freedoms he still had.

“I don’t trust you to be cautious with it.” You walked towards your desk, grabbing the other preparatives you needed for this moment such as rubber glover and the pot where you’d keep the semen in.

“You don’t trust me to beat my own meat?” Wanderer wheezed, lowing his head down momentarily.

“I trust you to do that, but not to be cautious and sanitary with the results.” After grabbing the prepartions and dressing the gloves around your hands, you walked back to him, kneeling in front of him ahain. “And, you did consent to this anyway…” You tried teasing him wth the truth, but it didn’t seem to have much effect.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever…” He kept himself broad to pretend he hadn’t lost that little argument.

“Just to make sure you aren’t starting to regret this… What is the safe word we agreed on?” You asked him a bit more seriously, looking up to him despite hs inability to stare back at you.

“Biology.” He answered very bored.

“Yes. Just like the main purpose of this.” You reminded him of that fact before your hands started to move down his chest. “May I?”

He nodded and you soon cupped his crotch with a hand, beginning to gently rub your palms against his organ to get him erect.

“Shit…” Wanderer turned his head to the side while biting his inferior lip to stop himself from making any louder noises compared to the short grunts from the back of his throat. “What kind of lesson is this anyway..?” He fixed his throat, trying to maintain his dignity.

“We have a project to examine sperm cell behavior of different people under certain conditions.” You answered neutrally, focusing more on his slightly-hardened organ rather than his anger.

“Are you the only woman in their class or something?! Why would he not give the cells already?!” Wanderer kept trying to argue with you and distract himself from the pressure you were applying on him.

“Hmmmm… I don’t know.” You shrugged your shoulders, not wanting to think about less awkward alternatives now that you were getting what you needed.

So, trying to get him to stop protesting, you finally put your whole hand under his underwear and pulled out his dick out of it, finally springing it free. When Wanderer felt your gloved fingers enveloping his pink tip is when he started fighting back again.

“Aren’t there any sperm banks in the school?! O-Or maybe in the city?!” His head was looking down at where the motions were going to happen, trying to somehow have a bit of control and awareness of his situation.

“Don’t you think it’s a little too late to protest about it now?” You spoke a bit ironically, circling those same fingers around him to give him a starter.

“You minx…” You could clearly see his fists gripping around the edges pf the seat as you teased him, taking it all out on it.

“You know you like it.” You blinked to him, finally beginning to occupy his mind with more pleasure.

Your fingers were jerking him gently and slowly, going all the way to the tip of his urethra down to base of his cock. It was a tortuous rhythm that was certainly tensing him up for more. His own fingers would slightly scratch the chair to relieve himself and hope it’d make him more silent around you, feet tapping the floor nervously.

“You know… this would be faster if you told me about anything you like during these moments for me to do.” You suddenly decided to open your mouth to give him that suggestion, deciding to use your other hand to gently get a hold of his testicles to test him out.

Wanderer flinched as soon as he felt you touch that region, skin visibly shivering. A bothered grunt also came out of his throat in response, a hint of pink coloring his cheeks.

“J-Just… stroke me faster.” He fixed his throat again as you smirked at the facade he was trying to pose to you.

But you did as he wished and proceeded to stroke him faster, still trying your best to tease his tip the most so he could ejaculate as soon as possible. It was now a bit harder for Wanderer to jail his noises, meaning he had to try even harder to keep his mouth shut, and those efforts were making this whole moment way more awkward for you too.

“You can moan, y’know? I would expect you to.” You turned your face to him, but seeing his face made you too embarrassed to keep looking at it that bravely, so you abruptly turned away and started looking at the floor instead.

“I don’t want you to listen…” He quickly mumbled before another moan took his vocal chords over and forced him to shut his mouth again.

“Alright, then… But it is going to become worse for you.” You said while making the circle between your middle, ring finger and your thumb tighter, trying to squeeze him more.

“For fuck’s sake…” Wanderer’s hips trying to recoil away from you, but that was impossible due to his legs being tied to the chair’s too, so he had no choice but to relieve himself by stretching his legs and arching his back, his feet facing the roof.

If only he wasn’t wearing shoes… You were pretty sure all his fingers would be spread apart too from that heavy pleasure wave you gave him, but you had no choice but to move on from that and keep focusing on pulling out that orgasm from him.

This moment was as awkward for him as it was for you. You’d never expect someone as reserved as him to let you do this to him, and actually doing it felt bizarre. Now you knew how his dick looked like, and you could probably imagine how it fit and looked under his pants. How would look at him normally again? How would he look at you normally again? Maybe you should’ve been more creative with your problem-solving skills instead of insisting on this. But at the same times you couldn’t blame yourself for him accepting to do this so… easily.

“I know it’s very weird, but… It would be really helpful if you could help me do this faster.” Now it was your turn to fix your throat to pretend you didn’t have an awkwardness in the tip of your tongue.

“… Ok.” He accepted your commission very neutrally, arms crossed as if he was bored and not surprised at all.

Maybe he wasn’t exactly taking you seriously and didn’t realize the gravity of what he put himself into.

“I hope I’m successfully stimulating you and not just… doing this for nothing.” You laughed your embarrassment away, trying to cool the mood between you two.

“Y-You’re good.” He mumbled, a bit too embarrassed to confess his satisfaction with all of this.

“Tell me when you’re close, okay?” You looked at the pot sitting at the floor by your side, wondering when would you finally use it.

“Ok…” Wanderer moaned under his throat again, still holding himself back.

Hearing his confirmation, you kept working your hands in his organ, trying your best to recreate the tips you’ve read in the internet about how to make a guy reach his orgasm quickly. Your right hand was basically twisting itself within every pump to provoke his sized cock while sometimes gripping it a bit harder on purpose to cause a bit of pleasurable pain. Meanwhile, your left hand were still massaging his balls and caressing them with thumb, but way more carefully compared to your other hand. You knew that it was a very sensible and fragile part of the male body and you had no idea if Wanderer would like you to mess with it any harder, so you had no choice but to be gentle despite your want to end this as soon as possible.

“I-I think I’m close…” Wanderer suddenly threw his head back, a high-pitched moan escaping his lips after holding himself back so much.

“Are you? Really?” You asked, turning your eyes back to him, seeing his mouth hanging open from the overstimulation.

“Y-Yeah, yeah… Go faster…” He asked, cheeks growing a bit redder from asking you such an embarrassing question.

You nodded and started pumping him faster, dropping all those techniques you were trying to use to focus on man tuning that growing momentum, including his testicles so you could grab the pot. And it seemed to be working because Wanderer started hissing quite frequently to get rid of his need to groan.

“A-Almost there..!” Wanderer’s feet begun dragging themselves against the floor again, trying to contain his pleasure, his hips trying to jerk upwards to feel more friction and allow himself to free that aching knot in his balls.

Unfortunately, despite his warning, Wanderer was still not ejaculating at all, which worried you a bit.

“A-Are you sure?” You asked, almost laughing in pure nervousness.

“Yes… yes, yes, yes…” His eyebrows kept twitching and frowning as closure suffocated him, his feet still trying to stretch on the wooden floor.

You grabbed the pot sitting in front of you and you put it in his tip, readying yourself for his orgasm. Now all that would come out of him would directly go inside there with no chance of escape. But then Wanderer’s orgasm snapped pretty soon after you did that, making the timing of your placing of the pot perfect.

Wanderer bit his inferior lips again, simply hissing all his way through it instead of just letting those caged moans go for once. All his cum was going to the pot as expected, but you had to do some effort to keep it all together due to how strongly he was cumming. His hips were jerking forwards to the most they could, hand fingers all spread and aggressive with the poor chair.

“Shit!” He also kept insulting the nothing around him out of nowhere for no apparent reason rather than just coping with the high amounts of pleasure being release.

Soon enough, his cock stop twitching inside the pot, signaling you that it was over. So you pulled it out and angled it back to its normal position to make the semen stuck on the walls to drip down to the bottom of the pot. Meanwhile, Wanderer was just completely melted in the chair, breathing in and out heavily to refresh himself.

“Aaaaand…” You voiced as you reached for the jar’s cover and begun spinning around the pot, stopping when it wasn’t possible to do so anymore. “Done!” You cheered excitedly while getting up and moving to your table.

You carefully placed the pot in a corner and grabbed a packet of blank stickers, beginning to rip one off of it to use it, but Wanderer finally recovered his logical thinking.

“Are you not going to untie me?! It was supposed to be the first thing to do!” He complained, sitting his body in the chair normally again.

“Wait.” You said, trying to focus on stick the sticker in the pot in anyway it wouldn’t be curved or off the center in the slightest.

“You better hurry up… It is very uncomfortable to be in this chair…” Wanderer used an ironic tone to complain about you, trying his best to annoy you to get what he wanted.

“You didn’t seem to have a problem with it at first.” You decided to pause your pot-labeling to give him attention, speaking very snobbishly too.

“Yeah, but now I’m just barely sitting naked here with no moving rights!” He resisted your argument, trying to move his arms and legs again to show you how tight he was against that chair.

“Fine, fine…” You got up from your chair and quickly moved to him, wanting to get that extra task done as soon as possible.

And soon enough, as soon as you took off his blindfold and freed his hands, Wanderer zipped his zipped back to its upper end as soon as possible, a loud high-pitched noise accompanying it. And when you were done freeing his legs, he kicked the hanging ropes around it away and quickly moved away, stretching his limbs apart to taste that sensation of freedom again.

“Holy fuck.” Wanderer moaned as he looked at his hand and tested their flexibility, seeing its fingers bend, his thumb rolling, and his wrists, still aching from the ropes, rotating as he commanded them to do so.

But you ignored him to focus on the sticker in the pot again, finally managing to stick it in the place you wanted it to be. Then, you proceeded to grab one of your many pens and, specifically the black one, and open it just to quickly write “Semen” on the almost-transparent red, straight, middle line of the sticker, and pop the cover back to its place in the pen.

“Gee, I hope I never meet another Biomedicine freak like you again…” He suddenly insulted you, which surprisingly made you turn your chair to him because you had a little twist that you forgot to tell him about.

“Well… It’s with this Biomedicine freak you’re stuck with for the rest of the month.” You tried to keep yourself calm, but you knew that would make him confused.

“What?” He turned to you, with a confused expression in his face you which you could take a picture of.

“Throughout the month I’m probably gonna need some more loads of semen to do the testing…” You watched his eyes widening very entertained, trying your best to not laugh.

“What do you mean?” He asked, in the brim of having a panic attack.

“I forgot to mention to you that little fact, but… I’ll eventually need more semen to compare it to this original sample.” You brought the pot to your hands and lightly shook it, showing Wanderer his own sperm. “Unless you want to cancel this and force me to redo everything I’ve done yet… You’ll have to be my provider this whole month!” You said excitedly, knowing damn well it would make him snap.

“Why didn’t you tell me about this before?!” He shook his arms around very stressed.

“Oopsies! Forgot!” You turned your chair back to the table. “If you’re that bothered, I’ll just throw this a—”

“NO!” He screamed, slightly surprising you. “I-I mean… I can’t let this whole shit we just did go to waste!” He explained himself, convincing you to turn back to him again.

“Oh? Or maybe you’re jealous with the thought of me doing that same shit with another man?” You decided to keep teasing him with a smirk in your lips.

“O-Of course not! Why would I ever feel jealous for you?!” As soon as he finished talking, Wanderer wheezed and put his hands in his face, trying to control himself. “I-I’m gonna get going…” His calm, cold tone came back as he spoke and walked around your room.

Since he hadn’t brought anything, all he had to do was leave your room. But right before he actually could slam your door shut and run very far from your apartment, he suddenly walking, and froze in his place for a few seconds before turning back to you.

“Don’t you dare think about throwing that away.” He pointed to your pot very aggressively, body visibly hard as he threatened you.

And the door was finally slammed to its closed state.

Taglist: @bigmantiddys @the-stinky-winky @goofy-ego @kindofshyent @sasuri123 @gaboplaydespacito @thegriffinbird @alatusorrow @luminieee @toobytub @wandereryumee @shy-ent

Don’t forget to like and comment if you liked it! <3

[gtgbabie0]

Hello! I enjoyed the Cregan fanfic. May i ask if it's okay with you if i have another request?😅 (if it's not too much to ask huhu) I kept thinking how Cregan would be like if he had a daughter

I hope this is okay, its a super small blurb. Thank you for the request!! Enjoy my lovelies💕

If anyone dared to ask if Lord Stark had a favourite amongst his four children he would tell them “No.” in a firm, cold manner. A look so deadly it would send a violent shiver down any man’s spine.

However, between his four children- three boys and one girl- it was his daughter who would get away with anything and everything.

They say that it was little Mariah who melted away all of Cregan’s ice walls after he arrived back in the North. Holding her in his arms when she was just a babe brought back his humanity, which he thought was long gone since the war, warming his heart back to life with love.

The same little girl, now of age four, who is adamant about sitting with Cregan as he attends meetings with other Northern Lords, making her voice loudly known. She was headstrong and Cregan had no one to blame but himself.

He had not long returned from one of these meetings, bidding goodbyes to the Lords who looked less than pleased about the comments his daughter was making. But they did well to hide their displeased expression behind polite smiles, everyone knew how to stay out of the Stark family business.

“How did it go?” You wonder, a small smirk tugging at the corner of your lips as he walks through the shared bedchambers with Mariah perched on his hip.

You could tell from the tired looks in both of their dark eyes that the meeting was long… perhaps even boring.

“I got to sit on the big chair.” Mariah giggles, giving you a toothy smile as Cregan places her on your lap before taking off his furs.

You hum in surprise at her words as she rambles on about how she is now “Lady Stark” and how her father could ‘rest’ instead of going to such meetings. Although you could tell- as she spoke through a yawn- that perhaps it was her that should rest.

The notion of such an idea makes Cregan chuckle, his eyes creasing with amusement. “I’ve got plenty of time yet, Lady Stark.” He says, looking between the pair of you with a gentle smile. One full of adoration.

Your daughter continues to defend her case, insisting that she is ‘smart’ and that it would be 'practice for the future'. She would certainly be trouble in the future, you thought to yourself, looking down at her with a soft smile.

"I can go alone, Father," she murmurs sleepily, making the pair of you laugh. There is no doubt in your mind that she would boss all those Lords around, after all, she has practically grown up in those meetings with her father.

“She’s trying to send you into early retirement my dear.” You smile, looking up at your husband who busies himself with taking off his worn leathers, leaving him in a loose-fitted tunic.

He bends down slightly, his big hand rubbing your shoulder, pressing a gentle kiss against your temple. “She’s succeeding.” He whispers in response before walking over to the window, closing the thick tapestry to keep the warmth in and the cold out.

Mariah rests against you, letting out another yawn as your fingers brush through her hair, she was getting sleepy. However, as soon as Cregan sits down beside you she’s immediately sitting up, holding her arms out for her father expectantly.

“Come here flower.” He whispers, sitting her down on his lap as his fingers begin to braid her hair gently, getting the loose curls out of her eyes.

Your heart swells with love at the sight, the way she desperately tries to keep awake whilst blabbering on about her day to you, her words mushing together as the exhaustion begins to take over.

“Lord Ryswell wasn’t happy about her input on the docks.” Cregan smirks, the fireplace bathes him in a supple light making him glow in contentment that makes you feel a giddiness in your chest.

“I can imagine, he’s always been far too proud.” You whisper, not wanting to wake her up.

He looks down at Mariah, fast asleep curled against his chest, her cheek squashed against the fabric of his tunic. “He’ll just have to deal with it.” He smirks, wrapping his arm around your shoulders to bring you close to him, his lips pressing against your hairline as he enjoys the peace while he can.

[sulumuns-dootah]

How would the kings react when having a playful argument with the MC, MC suddenly says 'You're lucky I love you'?

Having a playful argument w/ the WHB kings

⟡ Masterlist ⟡ 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

"Prove it"

If you really mean it, then show him how much you do

He did rile you up, didn't he? He deserves a punishment for that

Hit him

Hit him as hard as you can

Hell, tap into his power and send him flying all the way to the other side of Hell

If you don't even try, he'll try to rile you up even more

       ༺☆༻

"I'm- I'm sorry, did I go overboard?"

The ever so gentle giant always wants to respect your boundaries in everything, but sometimes struggles to recognise them

He's quick to stop the playful argument and starts looking for a way to make it up to you

So now you have to reassure him that you're okay and he didn't do anything that bad

Doesn't really matter though

He'll still commission that statue of him kneeling before you

       ༺☆༻

"Obviously. That still doesn't matter that I'll treat you any different"

No fight or argument with Levi is fully playful

There's always that serious undertone to it

And yes, if you take it too far, he will hang you no futher question

Unless you can actually manage to spin it around and make him a blushing subby mess that's one second from cumming into his pants

It's hard to do, but ther reward may seem worth it, no?

       ༺☆༻

"Huhu, I know..."

On the other side of a coin, Beel never takes arguments seriously even if they are

I recommend not telling him this actually

If he realises that you're letting thing slide just because he's adorable and knows how to give good backshots, he'll start trying to see how far he can push his luck

And even telling him that he's gone too far wouldn't probably work anymore

He'll just do whatever he wants which is kinda terrifying now that It think about it

       ༺☆༻

"Oh? That's good"

I think I already did some arguing HC's and said that Belphie doesn't really argue so with the same spirit he'll just acknowledge your confession and continue to flatly state things

Though, thinking about it, Belphie does fit the memo of someone who would just laugh at you while you're spitting fire

So even during playful argument he would try to rile you as much as he can

"Hm? And what's that got to do with what we're talkin' 'bout?"

       ༺☆༻

"Aw, I love you too... But I'm still gonna fuck you like I don't."

You two might not even be arguing about anything spicy or anything

He just throws this thing your way and completely changes the mood of the situation

Though to be fair, all of your arguments, serious or palyful, always end with your legs in different area codes so his remark only speeds things up along

It's kinda hard to come up with good funny responses when all you can think of is that good action that'll come next

       ༺☆༻

"I know. I am lucky."

Instant end to your argument

How can you argue with him when he's so sweet

All you can only do now is to deflate and melt into his touch

It's okay tough, he didn't really get the point of playful fighting anyway

It mostly only reminds him of his Seraphim brothers constantly bickering about pointless things

So he prefers the quiet moments in life more

[milkiclouds]

leon kennedy has a lot of moles, peppering across his body like a cosmic galaxy waiting to be connected together with the invisible ink of your fingers. most noticeable were the moles along his neck and collarbones, peeking out from his clothes and uniform. majority of them painted his back. there was a secret mole on his left hand - hiding between his pointer finger and his thumb. and a few more spreading across his arms and legs.

you had a habit of kissing his moles, every single one of them, but your favorite one to kiss was the mole on his stomach, right next to his belly button, perfectly placed to bring out the sweetest giggles every single time you did.

today was no different as you kissed his stomach, exposed from his shirt as it bunched up from his sleep. the laughter came out in uncharacteristic whines, too tired to actually squirm away.

“stop… it’s too early...”

you didn’t stop in favor of placing just a few more kisses against his stomach, the mark acting like the ‘x’ on the treasure map of his body. you finally relented, giving him once last kiss and finishing off with a gentle nibble causing him to jump and yelp in surprised laughter.

resting your head on his stomach you looked up at him as he met your loving gaze, his face flushed - another reason you loved kissing his moles.

“why do you always kiss me there?” he asked. “it’s ticklish.”

“you have a mole.”

he stared at you before letting out an exasperated chuckle at your simple response and mumbling how he didn’t understand you. yes, of course, he knew he had a mole. and while he was never insecure about them, the fact that they were the target of your lips and fingers made his heart thump in chest.

because while they were just moles to him… they were beauty marks to you.

a/n: hi i really like that they spent so much time mapping out moles on his body huhu plus i swear he has a mole on his tummy in one of the mods i swearrr lol i have a lot of moles myself and idk it made me love him more and i thought this was a cute thought hopefully i executed it okay bc i have not written in years

also dividers are by @cafekitsune bc i’m obsessed and they’re cute af

[crazyyluvr]

Umemiya x 3rd year medic reader YESSS!

umemiya x medic!reader (no gender is specified, I think)

wc: 3.6k (not proofread but i never proofread anyway)

note: finally back with a oneshot. i wanna watch windbreaker s2 so bad but idk where to watch it huhu. enjoy the oneshot! <33

The three times Sakura has seen you take care of Umemiya, and the one time he returned the favor.

Sakura was one of the densest people in Bofurin. His friends constantly teased him of that fact, and Sakura always denied their assumptions and borderline insults towards his emotional intellect.

His one and only proof that he is not as dense as others say he is was the thing that he can see what others can't for some reason: the chemistry between Bofurin's leader and the resident medic.

He normally doesn't dabble in other people's personal lives, especially their love lives, but this one was just staring at him in the face to the point where he couldn't stop himself from asking his friends about it.

"They don't seem like they like each other," Nirei said, shaking his head when Sakura brought up the idea while they were in Kotoha's café.

"I agree," Suo hummed, leaning back and pushing his plate of biscuits to Sugishita, who quietly accepted them and ate them. "I've known them for a while, and they don't really have any tension between them."

Sakura simply stared at them, mouth agape, before he slammed his hands on their table. "Then all of you are the blind ones! There's no way ya can't see what's going on between those two!"

"Do you have any proof to support your claims?" Suo said.

"I got a ton." Sakura leaned back in his wooden chair, crossing his arms as he began to recount all the moments that he's witnessed between you and Hajime Umemiya.

—————

Incident One: The lingering gazes when tending to wounds.

After the fight Umemiya and Tomiyama officially declared that they would be friends after their fight, you had immediately approached Umemiya and dragged him to the closest theater seat to the stage.

Umemiya didn't even protest, letting you lead him with a hand wrapped around his forearm as he sat down and let you watch over his wounds. It was almost like routine for the both of you, neither of you saying a word as you fell into a familiar rhythm.

Sakura didn't think much of it at the start — you had done the same thing to the rest of them after their own matches, which was why they all had bandages and ointments spread over their faces.

"What's the verdict, doc?" Umemiya asked, eyes transfixed on you standing over him. "Am I gonna live?"

Sakura did a double take when he saw the smile that took place on Umemiya's face. It was different than the ones that he normally offered to everyone else — it had some kind of... mushiness to it that Sakura couldn't quite identify.

Nonetheless, it caught his attention.

"Your wounds aren't that severe, and the bite on your neck didn't pierce anything vital," you had said, a hand behind his head to make him lean back so you could examine the injury properly. "It doesn't need stitches — they're all pretty shallow. I'll just disinfect all of them then bandage."

"Do your worst, doc." Umemiya leaned back in his chair and watched as you dug into your medkit for the things you needed.

You rolled your eyes, face contorted into an expression of annoyance, undoubtedly caused by Umemiya's behavior during his fight.

"Next time, when someone tries to bite your neck, at least push their head away or something," you huffed as you put a white pad of bandage over the wound to clean it. Your angry tone contrasted the gentle hold you had over his body, as if you were afraid that you were going to break the leader of Bofurin even more.

"Aww, are you worrying about me, doc?" Umemiya cooed closing his eyes as he just let you do your thing.

"I'm more worried about my supplies," you countered, wrapping the bandage around his neck. "At this rate, half my materials will be used on wounds that you pointlessly gain from stupid fights."

Umemiya simply flashed you a grin as he looked up at you. He didn't reply, but the heaviness in his gaze said enough.

"Stop looking at me like that, Umemiya."

"Like what?" Umemiya asked, but he already knew what you were talking about. He just wanted to torture you.

"Like you wanna fight me."

Umemiya blinked. He misinterpreted your interpretation. "That's not-"

You let out a snort, finishing up the bandage and pulling away from him. "I was kidding. Don't get so worked up."

You let your eyes linger on his before you walked away, turning towards other members of Shishitoren in order to treat their wounds that were significantly worse than the Bofurin members had attained.

The interaction that was supposed to just be normal was so charged with tension it penetrated even Sakura's dense brain, causing redness to flood his cheeks as he looked away. He felt like he was invading something intimate and private that he wasn't supposed to witness but did anyway.

And apparently he was the only one who witnessed it because he heard no comments about them, even from the smart Nirei who normally noticed almost every small little detail about his "idols" (and you were pretty high up that list).

Despite that, Sakura didn't say anything about this, thinking that he was just imagining things. After all, he didn't really notice these types of things, didn't he? He was probably just making assumptions.

If only that was the only time that happened.

—————

Incident Two: the fussing over the tiniest cuts.

The second time made him feel suspicious.

He had learned quite quickly that raids from gangs was quite common in the town of Makochi. It was up to Bofurin to make sure that these raids never caused any extended damage on the properties of the residents.

He had also learned that despite the size of Bofurin and the wide array of good fighters that can easily help any kind of raid, Umemiya preferred being more hands-on with his leadership approach. He didn't let his status get in the way of doing meager tasks, like helping put up signs that were too high up for elderly store owners, or chasing down the odd purse-snatcher.

So when there was a tiny raid on the liquor store for the second time in two weeks, Sakura's team rushed over there to help, since they were the closest team that was currently patrolling.

They weren't able to see much of the fight, but they could tell that the gang was getting whacked. Out of a dozen members, four were on the ground, unconscious, while the rest were well on their way there, all while Umemiya didn't have a scratch on him. You were sitting on the curb, simply watching him fight with the medkit you always seemed to have with you on your lap, just waiting for him to finish so you could do your job.

It didn't take long for Umemiya to deal with the gang. His experience with fighting alone and his skill in fighting made the issue a breeze for him, despite gaining a cut on his eyebrow from a knife.

Sakura watched the leader of Bofurin in wonder. This was the person he wished to overcome in order to become the strongest. The boy couldn't help but think that he was a long way from that.

His attention on Umemiya caused him to see something that made him double back. As the older boy walked over to you, Sakura saw how his stance changed the closer he got to you. He went from being the strong fighter, the infamous leader of the protectors of Makochi, to a tired boy the moment he sat down in front of you.

Sakura followed Hiragi and the others in cleaning up the street, fixing things that were thrown into disorder due to the fight. This was also an excuse for Sakura to get closer to the two of you to eavesdrop on your conversation.

"How did I do?" Umemiya asked you, watching you as you took out your necessary materials.

You pretended to think for a moment as you dabbed alcohol onto a clean cotton pad. "Decent enough, I guess, but you get minus points for getting nicked."

You raised the cotton pad and patted the wound with it.

Umemiya hissed in pain, flinching away from the sudden contact of alcohol over his open wound. "Jeez, couldn't you have given me a warning first?"

You rolled your eyes. Nirei had pointed out before that you never rolled your eyes at anyone other than Umemiya, and Sakura realized that he was right. "You're such a big baby," you grumbled, but you had become gentler with your dabbing before you placed the bandaid over his eyebrow.

"If you don't want alcohol over your cuts, don't get anymore in the future," you said as Umemiya stood up, holding out his hand towards you.

"But what reason would I have to visit you then?" Umemiya said cheekily as he pulled you to your feet.

You shoved him, and he stumbled forward dramatically, laughing as a smile broke through your angry façade.

"They both seem very comfortable with each other," Sakura mumbled, and Suo overheard him.

"They've always been like that," he said, smiling. "They're very good friends."

Just friends? Sakura thought as he watched Umemiya sling an arm over your shoulders despite your protest, and the way you still didn't push him off.

I can't help but doubt that.

—————

Incident Three: Massages.

As the representative of his class, Sakura found himself visiting the rooftop garden more often than he had anticipated. Umemiya always asked for updates from all the leaders in Bofurin, and Sakura supposed that this was one of the reasons why people looked up to him so much — he cared a lot about the town and his own men.

You spent most of your time in the garden as well, Sakura noticed. Whether you were organizing supplies, chatting with Umemiya, or helping him with his vegetables, you were always doing something there to keep Umemiya company. You never really listened whenever Umemiya would have a briefing with other squad leaders and class reps, but you always seemed to be there.

Patrol for the day had already ended, so Hiragi decided to let Sakura give the report to Umemiya so he could learn how to do it on his own.

Sakura tried not to show it, but he felt slightly intimidated; not by Umemiya, who he now views as a rival that he must surpass, but by you, the reserved, calculated medic that rarely shows a smile despite the gentle treatment you always give.

This time, however, Sakura wasn't sure whether what to feel as he watched what was going on in front of him.

"Sorry about this, Sakura, but it helps with the back pain," Umemiya said, his voice strained as he sent a smile towards the first year while you sat behind him, pressing on his upper back with enough force for Umemiya's grip on the wooden table in front of him to turn his knuckles white.

"He's a stubborn little shit that doesn't know when to stop when his body is already at its limit," you said monotonously, rubbing your thumbs on his shoulder blades. Umemiya hissed, but gestured for Sakura to start his report.

"Uh," Sakura cleared his throat to regain his composure. "The streets were pretty quiet today. Just a couple of pickpockets and the occasional alley beat-up, but it wasn't that eventful. The butcher shop needed a new door, so we helped with the installment. That's basically it."

Umemiya nodded, one eye squeezing shut as your hands moved down to his lower back, pressing against the contours of his muscles to relieve the tension from them. "Alright, thank you Sakura, you can go — shit!"

"Stop flexing your damn muscles, idiot," you muttered. "I won't be able to fix the soreness if your body isn't relaxed."

"Maybe if you were less harsh, it would be easier for me to relax," Umemiya replied, a bit of a whine in his voice as you rolled your eyes. Nonetheless, Sakura noted the way that you seemed to go easier on the other male. Well, his grip on the table was looser now.

It was around this time that Sakura began to realize that witnessing any moment between you and Umemiya would always feel intimate and intrusive, like he wasn't supposed to see whatever was going on between you two despite neither of you being discreet about it.

Am I the only one who sees anything going on between those two? Sakura thought to himself as he left the rooftop while the two of you bickered between yourselves. Maybe this is what people meant by an "outside perspective". People who grew up with the two of you were absolutely blind to whatever spark there was between Umemiya and his medic.

—————

The Final Incident: The (pretty justified?) overprotectiveness.

Bofurin immediately knew something was wrong when Umemiya's usual message broadcasted in the speaker system lacked its usual mirth.

"Team leaders, report to the rooftop immediately. The rest, wait for instructions from your leaders while going on with your usual duties."

Sakura exchanged glances with Suo and Nirei.

"I wonder what happened," Nirei said nervously, brows creasing with concern.

The three had no idea what could have caused Umemiya to be so serious, but they didn't waste time dwelling on it as they rushed to the roof.

As Umemiya ordered, all the leaders of Bofurin were gathered there. Sakura didn't recognize all of them, but he could see that they were strong, maybe even stronger than him.

"Thank you for gathering on such short notice," Umemiya said, stepping out of the small shade that the rooftop offered. His lips were set into a straight line, his eyes downturned and his brows slightly furrowed. "I'm sorry to put more work on everyone's plates, but we need to double patrol this week."

"What happened, Umemiya?" Hiragi asked, his voice projecting the unease that everyone was feeling.

He didn't reply immediately, moving his Furin coat a bit to stuff his hands into his pockets. "There's a gang active in Makochi," He said, voice leveled. "They're targeting students of Furin, especially the non-violent ones."

"They're destroying shops and hurting people," A new voice interjected, laced with pain and barely-concealed struggle as someone hobbled in from beneath the shade, from the part that was hidden from the eyes of those gathered.

Shock rippled through the leaders of Bofurin, gazes unable to leave your limping form.

The best Sakura could describe you was simple: you were in rough shape. Your right eye was swollen shut, with cuts littering your forehead and cheek that transition into bruises around your neck that disappear under your white undershirt that was stained with red in some places. Your face contorted slightly every time you breathed, and your knuckles were messily wrapped with bandages that were already soaked with blood.

Umemiya surged towards you, putting a hand under your bent elbow to offer you more support.

"I told you to rest," he muttered, words quiet but not unheard by Sakura due to their proximity. "Sit down."

You shook your head, the movement making you wince slightly. "My foot was getting numb. I needed to stretch my legs."

"Numbness is quite common with people who have injured their ankle and are subjected to bed rest," Umemiya replied, a bit of his usual snarkiness returning for a bit before leaving just as quickly as it had come.

"Just... let me speak first," you pleaded slightly, looking at your friend. You may be heavily injured, but you had a position as Umemiya's direct right-hand to uphold. You had to show that you were still strong even after the advances that the gang made on you.

Umemiya studied you for a moment, before sighing and helping you reorient yourself so you could face the members properly.

"Did they attack you?" Hiragi demanded with barely restrained anger that Sakura understood. You were also close with him, and you would always check up on him, and now you were hurt. He would be as angry as him if he were in the same position.

You nodded. "Earlier before assembly. Don't worry — the ones involved were handled with accordingly."

A few small smirks appeared in the crowd. They expected nothing less from the second strongest in Bofurin.

You took a deep breath before speaking again.

"They want to challenge Bofurin for control of the town," you said, now addressing the leaders of your beloved gang. "As much as possible, don't entertain this challenge. Umemiya and I will —"

Umemiya cleared his throat loudly from beside you, giving you a pointed look. You rolled your eyes and recorrected your words. "... Umemiya will handle it. Your priority is to protect the townspeople."

"Under no circumstances are any of you or your squad members allowed to include them in the conflict," Umemiya warned, his tone making everyone straighten their spines a bit. "They struck first and injured our medic, an action we cannot overlook. They may be strong, but we're stronger. They step onto our turf with weapons in their hands and evil in their hearts, so you know what to do when they decide to do something with it."

"Purge them with no exception," you finished, keeping your chin held high despite your slouched form. Everyone nodded and responded in unison before dispersing with newfound determination that they would soon spread to their underclassmen as they went out for patrol.

As Sakura went through his normal routes for patrol with his eyes peeled, he thought back to the way you spoke to the crowd of Bofurin members. He admired your display of strength, the way you stood up and talked with authority despite the pain you were in.

Both you and Umemiya were perfect examples of how a leader is supposed to be, and Sakura was sure to take notes. He would need it when he would take over Bofurin, one day in the semi-distant future.

But for now, remembering you and Umemiya and your chemistry together as leaders and... something else, Sakura couldn't help but think that he had a long, long way to go.

—————

Silence enveloped the table before Suo let out a laugh. "I didn't know you had a sense of humor, Sakura-san."

Sakura sputtered, pushing his chair back as he stood up. "I'm not jokin'! There's definitely something going on between them — even I can see that."

Nirei smiled nervously, playing with the pages of his small notebook that he carried everywhere. "I'm sorry Sakura-san, but even with the... proof that you told us, I still don't think they like each other that way."

"You're just saying that because you're used to seeing them act that way with each other!" Sakura argued. "I'm tellin' ya, if they were just friends, there's no way they'd be acting the way they do!"

Kotoha shamelessly eavesdropped on their conversation with a smile on her face. She was having trouble stifling her giggles as she whipped out her phone and clicked on Umemiya's contact to send him a message:

Looks like you lovebirds need to be more discreet. The first years are getting suspicious about you two.

Umemiya cracked an eye open when he felt his phone buzz on his chest, raising it to his eye level from where he laid on your lap on the wooden bench in the rooftop.

He let out a chuckle and nudged your thigh. "Look at this."

You put down your own phone and read the texts from Kotoha, and you let out a small laugh. "I suppose we've been quite bold recently," you hummed, your fingers tangling with Umemiya's hair and massaging his scalp.

Umemiya sighed, eyes fluttering shut as he enjoyed your gentle touch. "Nah, I think it's all 'cause of Sakura's outsider perspective. We've been acting the same as we always have been, but no one's brought it up until now."

"I guess so," you shrugged. "Are we gonna do something about it, Haji?"

He opened his eyes and looked up at you, his blue eyes drifting over every feature of your face, all the beauty and imperfections that he loved to death. "Are you fine with them finding out?" He asked you.

"Yeah," you said without hesitation. "It's not like I'm ashamed of you."

Umemiya grinned, making you flush slightly before hiding your face from him. It wasn't often you were this soft with him, and he enjoyed every moment.

"I knew you loved me," he cooed, and you scoffed, rolling your eyes.

You picked up your phone with a free hand and shot a text to Kotoha before putting it back down to play with his hair again. "Nah, just embarrassed of your lovesick behavior."

"Admit it, you enjoy it!" He sang, and you flicked his forehead, making him whine and hide his face in your stomach. You laughed, eyes crinkling as you basked in the moment with the boy you grew to care for beyond the boundaries of friendship.

Kotoha's phone lit up, and she checked the text you sent her.

Let them be. It's about time people gained vision and actually noticed something.

Kotoha smiled, putting down her phone and prepping another meal for Sakura and his friends.

She was your and Umemiya's number one shipper, and she was so happy that people were noticing both of you more and more. Soon enough, she can yap to someone about how annoying Umemiya gets when he isn't with you, and how you act annoyed when he's overbearing like that, but you still deal with it.

Because no matter what you say, she could tell that you loved her brother just as much as he loved you, and that was enough.

[blockedbykei]

𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐫𝐢𝐛𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐨𝐰𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬 !!

synopsis: every moon has their own star. and tsukishima loves his little star the best

— warnings: SO MUCH FLUFF, dad!tsukishima, made up name for his babygirl (literally just used google translate huhu forgive me 🙏)

tsukishima used to tolerate his mornings rather than enjoy them. when he met you, it started to become something he enjoyed, most especially when you both moved together and he got to wake up seeing you deep in comfortable slumber beside him, bodies entwined.

there was always something peaceful in the mornings— the soft muffled chirps of voyaging birds, the gentle glow of the sun basking your body through the window, his tired body pinning him down beside you, his muscles relaxed and melting against your shared bed.

his eyes blink the sleep off, a small yawn leaving his thin lips. you're sound asleep, a hand under your cheek, the other resting limply on his bare waist. tsukishima smiles softly, a hand reaching up to push a strand off your ear.

you don't move. he smiles brighter than the moon in the evening.

then he hears that familliar pitter patter of tiny feet across the wooden floor outside your bedroom. tsukishima perks up, nestling himself deeper into the bed pretending to be asleep. and on queue, his daughter opens the door, the silent creaks of the door a telltale sign she was plotting something mischievous.

and when he feels her tiny presence beside him, hovering over his back, he jumps and turns around, grabbing his daughter around her chubby waist.

"gotcha!"

hoshi's little squeals are akin to melodies, something he loves to hear every second of everyday. tsukishima carries her and sits her on his chest, his fingers squiggling on her mushy sides. he feels you stir beside him, eyes opening.

their smiles match and your heart swoons; hoshi was a little version of tsukishima, both eyes and smile— like halos over clouds. the hair was a mixture of yours and his though, and it seems like she was starting to get your complexion.

"papa, stooop," she giggles, little feet kicking at the mattress and pushing his hands away. "you're attacking me!"

"my no! i'm only giving you kisses," he rubs his nose on her belly. "you don't want my kisses?"

"i want them," you place your elbow on your elbow, cheek placed on your palm. tsukishima rolls his eyes, albeit playfully, and leans up to peck you. hoshi gags.

"ewie,"

"not ewie," you gasp. "is this...ewie?"

you and tsukishima lean to place matching kisses on either side of her cheeks, slightly wet to tease her. she yells, falling on her back and running away from your room.

breakfast was as energetic as ever. since hoshi has learned how to feed herself, she ate a lot as she did when she was a baby. it has always admired you; maybe it was something she picked up from you rather than her father, who, despite placing many food on his plate, ate less than you.

you stand in front of the stove, waiting for the beaten eggs to be cooked. tsukishima has hoshi wrapped around his waist as they emerge from the bathroom, the bottom of her face slightly wet. he was already dressed for work, white button down and neatly iron brown slacks, his matching blazer hung by the door; hoshi was already dressed in her uniform, collars askew.

he sets her down in front of the coffee table, facing the tv, and tsukishima sits behind her with hair ties on his wrist.

"can we listen to music?" she asks him, peering up at her father. "while eating breakfast?"

her love for music- it was something tsukishima has been plotting since she had been in your womb. those microphone thingies connected to your stomach was something he always used when he got home from work, blasting a new playlist, a way of introducing music to hoshi so that she'd be used to it by the time she came out.

miki matsubara revibrates smoothly in the living room. they both hum as tsukishima begins to comb her hair, splitting it in two. you remember his eagerness to be taught how to braid when hoshi was sound asleep when she was a baby, admiring her soft growing hair. so watching him flawlessly split each part into three and intertwine them made your heart turn into silk.

you place the finished eggs and spam on the breakfast table, sitting beside hoshi and resting your body on tsukishima's leg, reaching over to fix your daughter's collar. she thanks you, clumsily placing the chopsticks on her small fingers.

"you want ribbons on your hair, hoshi?" tsukishima ties the first braid, placing it over her right shoulder.

"yes please!"

"blue ones?"

"she doesn't have blue ones, honey," you look at kei, picking up a spam and feeding it to him. "she has pink ones though. you want that, hoshi?"

"yes!" she reaches over to the small box and picks out three pink ribbons. tsukishima carefully plucks it from her hands. "can i visit the museum today?"

you hum. "sure baby. i'll pick you up after school and go there if it's okay with papa."

"absolutely," tsukishima beams. "i'm gonna show you a little secret later, so you can't tell anyone, 'kay?"

her small "okay" felt similar to tsukishima's- slightly flat, though you could sense her excitement. when he finishes on both braids, he clips a pink ribbon on each pair.

when breakfast is finished, the dishes clink in the sink as tsukishima sets them to dry to the side. you grab the car keys, and hoshi stands beside you waiting patiently for his dad. when he emerges from the kitchen, hoshi brings something out of her pocket.

"what's that?" he crouches, eye level with her. she reaches out and clips the pink ribbon over his necktie.

"so we can match," she says. "if you take it off, i'll tell everyone the secret you're going to tell me later." her eyes narrow, playfully but he thinks is actually a real threat. tsukishima laughs.

"you get to hit me if i go home and i'm not wearing it," he kisses her on the forehead.

hoshi runs towards the car when you exit the house; her height, despite her young age, was enough for her to reach the latch and open the door.

tsukishima places a hand on your waist and spins you around, kissing you, lips soft and chaste. the way he looks at you has never changed, the same golden glint, same ardor, same mellowness; it was love incomparable.

it seemed to have amplified when hoshi came around.

"thank you for breakfast," he murmurs against your lips. "and thank you for hoshi."

thank you for hoshi was something he always said every day since she was born. it felt like an oath, a prayer he says to express his gratitude to all saints.

and before you could answer, the car beeps.

hoshi has leaned over the dashboard and reached her hands to press on the horn. her eyebrows are furrowed, and you can see her mouth gag playfully.

she also seems to inherit his easy agitation.

reblogs are appreciated! <3