#i love the thought of him and a reader who is a food critic and them having an arc that reminds me of ratatouille

[sirsoggybread]

smitten | spencer reid

spencer reid x bau!reader

summary: when an unsub is killing teenage couples, you and spencer have to go undercover to lure him out.

warnings: mentions of murder and violence, typical criminal minds case, kissing, allusions to a praise kink? (nothing freaky nasty tho), mentions of bugs and eating bugs (sorry.)

wc: 2k

a/n: criticism appreciated since im new to writing (esp x reader fics) pls be nice tho. hope you enjoy!

Spencer wasn't even sure how he got here. He tried to place it, recalling every interaction he's had with you since you joined the BAU, but he still wasn't sure when his crush had started to form.

Crush. He hated that. He hated calling it that because it made him feel like a child, but that's what it was, wasn't it? He was smitten for you.

Maybe, it wasn't one particular moment in which a switch flipped in his brain, and he decided to start imagining how his daily routine would change to include you. Maybe, when he first met you, you planted a tiny seed of curiosity in his heart that slowly grew to consume him.

He was pulled from his thoughts by the sound of your voice, "Hey, Doc, I gotta question for you."

His lips twitched into a smile, he loved that you appreciated his endless knowledge. You didn't brush him off like most people did. You listened to his rambles, you enjoyed his fun facts, you asked for more.

"Hm, what's up?" He hummed, stirring another spill of sugar into his coffee to distract himself from your eyes.

"I saw a video the other day of a girl talking about how there's cockroaches in our ground coffee... is that true?" You asked, tilting your head, your eyes locked onto his cup.

"Yes." He answered, bringing his cup to his lips and taking a sip, causing your nose to scrunch in disgust. He let out a chuckle at your cute expression. "It's not just cockroaches either, it's mostly beetles and weevils."

Your jaw fell slack, "You know this and you drink it?"

His lips pressed into a thin line as he suppressed his amused smile, "It's not uncommon for bug particles to get into most of the food we consume, but they're ultimately undetectable and unharmful. In fact, it's an added source of fiber. In some countries such as Japan, China, Indonesia, Mexico, and more, bugs are commonly enjoyed as a delicacy and appreciated for their nutritious benefits."

You nodded slowly in response to the influx of information. Your eyes locked onto the coffee pot, internally grappling with the prospect of bugs being in the next cup of coffee that you were most definitely still going to drink.

Spencer bit back an amused smile as he watched you struggle, his gaze lingered for a moment too long, before he decided he should probably find his desk again. He settled into his chair and glanced up from his report, watching as you tentatively sipped your freshly made cup of coffee.

Naturally, Derek caught Spencer staring, and couldn't resist the urge to tease, “What's going on between the two of you, lover boy?”

Spencer felt the heat creep up his neck, his shoulder's tensing, “What? Nothing.” He cringed, knowing he was quick to answer.

Derek chuckled, “Oh, really?” He challenged, “How'd you even know who I was talking about then?”

“Ooh,” Emily leaned against Spencer's desk, “Are we talking about Spencer's crush?”

If Spencer's face wasn't red before, it definitely was now. “It's not a crush.” He said adamantly.

“Denial.” Emily hummed, earning a chuckle from Derek. She continued to tease, “You know, JJ and I have a bet going on about this, you wanna get in on that?”

“Can everybody meet in the briefing room? We got a case.”

Spencer's shoulder slumped with relief as JJ rushed past them. It's weird to be relieved by a new case, but the teasing would come to halt, and he could focus on something other than the way your nose scrunched as you drank your coffee.

Everyone gathered around the round table, trading theories and observations as JJ presented the case.

“Unlike the previous murders, Benjamin and Gina both had ligature marks on their wrists, their bodies were also deeper in the desert than our first couple.” JJ zoomed in on the bruised wrists of the corpses displayed across the TV.

“He's escalating,” Derek stated simply.

You nodded in agreement, “Controlling two people at once isn't easy, even with the threat of a weapon. He’s applying what he learned from the first murders.”

“Perfecting his craft.” Rossi hummed, the disgust evident in his voice.

“One thing is for certain,” Hotch started, standing from his seat, “His time between kills is getting shorter, which means he's probably looking for another couple now. Wheels up in 20.”

–

Even as the team ate dinner, it was shitty fast food in the police station and your noses were buried in files. Spencer still stood, staring intently at the map pinned to the board in front of him, his brows knitted tightly together.

“Staring at the board isn't going to make the answer any clearer,” you said, familiar with his expression that crossed his face, “what are you thinking?”

“Tommy and Jane both lived in the south side of town, not far from the dumpsite, but Benjamin lived in the Northside, and Gina lived in the Northeast. Garcia couldn't find any connection between the two couples– different schools, different jobs, different friend groups. So… why these couples? Where is he finding his victims?”

You stopped in your tracks, recalling an earlier interview with the parents. His question struck a realization in you. “If you're 18 with super religious parents, where are you going to makeout with your boyfriend?”

“A makeout spot,” Derek interjected.

Spencer turned to face the team with a quizzical expression, “A makeout spot?”

“Yeah, yeah,” You answered, “Sometimes teenagers find secluded spots where they'll go to makeout or whatever. Then, they tell their friends, who tell their friends, so on and so forth.”

You turned to Hotch with a sense of urgency, “Is JJ still with Gina's friends?”

“I'm calling her now.” Hotch said, already holding the phone to his ear.

Derek’s eyes flickered between you and Spencer, his brow raised, “You realize what this means, right?”

“What?” Spencer asked.

Everyone's attention was on the two of you, you sighed, “It means you and I are going to have to go undercover as a couple.”

Spencer’s eyes widened, and he frantically shook his head, “What? Why- Why us? Why can't you two do it?” He gestured between Derek and Emily.

Emily deadpanned, though a smirk tugged at her lips.

“Come on, you really think Emily and I can pass as teenagers?” Derek asked, before adding, “I mean, I probably could, but Emily definitely can't.”

“Wha- Hey!” Emily slapped his shoulder lightly.

A stern look from Hotch caused four of you to quiet down. He hung up the phone and glanced between you and Spencer, “JJ just sent me the location. Are the two of you up for this?”

“Yes.” You answered quickly, your heart thumping with anticipation. This guy had killed four teenagers, you didn't even have to consider it.

Spencer swallowed, his eyes flickering over each member of the team, all focused on him. He wanted to kiss you, be close to you, but this isn't how he wanted it to go. “Yes,” he sighed.

–

Spencer sat stiffly in the backseat of the beat down car. His ears were tinted pink, and he couldn't even blame it on the wind drifting through the cracked windows–damn, Arizona, and their warm weather.

“Should we um, should we lay down?” He asked, fidgeting with his hands.

“No,” you answered, “we don't want him to find us in any more of a compromising position than we'll already be in.”

Spencer swallowed, and nodded. “So, um…”

“Spencer, relax.” You coaxed, but he couldn't. He was supposed to kiss you, and touch you, and the whole team was listening, and you guys were about to get attacked by a serial killer. Ironically, that last one was the least nerve-wracking.

“Just don't think.” You guided his hands to your waist, “I will do all the kissing and touching, and I'll stay on high-alert. Just… try to relax, and… make sounds.” Even your cheeks grew warm at your last words.

He was about to ask what you meant by make sounds, but he was caught off by your lips pressing against his–well, sort of. You kept your thumb hidden between your mouths, so your lips never completely touched. Spencer was grateful for that, it made the scene feel less intimate.

The two of you stayed like that for a while, Hotch occasionally giving you updates through your ear piece.“We have eyes on someone, but we can't move in until we're sure it's the unsub.”

You sighed, knowing the unsub wouldn't approach until he was sure the two of you were too caught up in each other to notice him.

You moved your head next to Spencer's ear, and his breath hitched at the sensation of your warm breath on his neck.

“This okay?” you asked in a hushed tone.

“Mhm,” He hummed, forcing his shoulders to relax, and willing his head to fall to the side. He understood what you meant by ‘make sounds’ now, because the moment your lips met his neck with wet kisses, a gasp escaped his lips.

“That's good, keep doing that.” you hummed against his neck, his grip on your waist tightened as his mind started to blur. He knew you meant the noise was good because it would convince the unsub, but the praise still caused an embarrassing amount of heat to pool in his stomach.

“Suspect is approaching.” If Aaron's voice through the earpiece wasn't enough to pull him out of the haze, the car door opening, followed by a rush of footsteps definitely was.

Emily's voice rang out, “FBI, you are under arrest for the murder of Thomas Buros, Jane Martin, Gina Amato, and Benjamin Cohen.”

You could still hear Emily reciting the Miranda rights as she pulled the unsub away from the car. Hotch poked his head in, “Are you guys okay?”

“Fine,” Spencer mumbled, his heart still racing from the array of events that unfolded.

You nodded, “Yeah, we're good.”

“We're taking him back to the station. We're not anticipating for him to request a lawyer, so Rossi's going to lead the interrogation. You two are good to head to the hotel for the rest of the night.”

–

Hotch was right, he never requested a lawyer, and it didn't take long for Rossi to get him to confess. The next morning, the team was on a flight back to D.C.

Things had been awkward between you and Spencer. Well, Spencer had been awkward, and the teasing from the team was relentless.

So, you waited. You let him sit as far as possible from you on the jet and you waited until everyone had drifted off into sleep, before finding a spot next to Spencer.

You gently nudged him out of his sleep. He inhaled deeply, and rubbed his eyes as he came to, and his cheeks flushed instantly upon seeing you. He swallowed as he sat up, his pulse began to race, anticipating the conversation he was sure you were going to insist on having.

Instead, you held out a square lollipop, with a scorpion encased in the center of the transparent, red candy.

His brows furrowed, “What? What is that?”

“It's candy,” You smiled, “they had them at the corner store near the hotel, so I got it for you.”

His lips curled into a curious smile as he accepted the candy, and began inspecting it.

“Bugs are commonly enjoyed as delicacies and appreciated for their nutritional benefits.” You echoed back to him a part of your earlier conversation, and he let out a chuckle. Now it made sense.

“Well, I think the uh, candy casing might be a little counterproductive.” He commented, his lips pursing as he suppressed his amused smile, “You didn't get one for yourself?”

“Oh, no. I will have to pass on the uh, scorpion. I prefer my bugs to be undetectable.” You said quickly, earning a laugh from Spencer. His anxiety over the impending conversation seemed to dissipate.

He unwrapped the candy and stuck it in his mouth, causing your nose to wrinkle. Suddenly, he felt like he was right back where he started–his stomach fluttering as you looked at him with an amused gleam in your eye, and his heart swelling as you referenced your earlier conversation. You listened, you remembered, and you thought of him enough to buy him this piece of candy (in his favorite flavor too.)

Yes, he was definitely smitten, but then again, maybe you were too.

[kateschi]

same book, different chapters

synopsis: an ordinary evening takes a turn when katsuki expresses what you've always known but never expected to hear.

pairing: timeskip!bakugou katsuki x f!reader

being with katsuki is a lesson in unspoken understanding. you knew who he is long before you started dating him—loud, brash, and not the type to share his feelings openly.

but it didn’t take long to realize there’s so much more to him than that. his love is quiet, reserved, and shown in the details:

how he pulls you out of the way of a passing car, or how he remembers the smallest things, like your favorite kind of tea or that you prefer your coffee without sugar.

and that is enough for you. mostly.

you didn’t expect him to be the kind of boyfriend who says "I love you" with ease. katsuki isn’t like that. it isn’t something you hold against him either.

but every now and then, a small part of you wonders what it would be like to hear him say it—to hear those three words slip past his lips in the same way they had from yours.

you say it first, a quiet “I love you” in the middle of a peaceful night when the world outside feels still.

his response comes in the shape of hugging you tighter, securing you in his arms. however, he doesn’t say it back, and you don’t expect him to. you don’t need him to.

still, there are times when you find yourself holding your breath, wondering if one day he’ll actually verbalize it.

it isn’t that you doubt his feelings. katsuki isn’t one to waste time on things or people he doesn’t care about.

you know how much he cares by the way he silently takes care of you, always putting you first in his own way, even when his words are rough around the edges.

it’s just that sometimes, words have a way of making things feel more real.

tonight is one of those easy evenings you cherish—one where you don’t have to think too much about anything. the two of you are in your kitchen, making dinner together, though “together” is generous.

you’re doing most of the work while katsuki stands next to you, arms crossed, casting a critical eye over everything you do.

“you’re putting too much salt,” he says, the frown on his face making you smile.

“pretty sure this is the exact amount the recipe says to use,” you reply, amused at how serious he always gets when it comes to food.

“that recipe’s wrong. I could’ve made this better with my eyes closed.”

“then why don’t you?” you tease, turning your head to glance at him. his gaze is sharp as usual, but the small curve in the corner of his lips betrays him.

“maybe I’ll cook next time,” he grumbles, looking away like the very idea of giving in bothers him.

you laugh softly, enjoying the banter. this is something you love about him—how even in these simple moments, his presence fills the space with a sense of ease.

there’s no pressure to be anything other than yourselves, even when his blunt honesty clashes with your more relaxed approach.

as you stir the pot, you can’t help but let your thoughts wander back to the three words. you know katsuki isn’t the type to say things until he’s ready, and you respect that.

but part of you is curious—would it ever come naturally to him, or would it always be something unspoken between the two of you?

still, as you stand there, the warmth of his steady presence beside you, you realize that maybe you’re okay with it remaining unspoken. katsuki shows his love in ways that don’t need words to validate them.

and then, without warning, you feel his arms wrap around your waist from behind, his chin resting on your shoulder. you freeze for a moment, caught off-guard.

“katsuki?” you ask, your voice soft, as you lean into him instinctively.

he doesn’t answer right away, just holds you there. his touch isn’t hesitant, but it is different from the usual casual touches you’ve grown used to.

“you’re annoying sometimes,” he mutters, voice low in your ear.

you chuckle, relaxing further into his hold. “I know.”

there’s silence for a beat, and then: “but I love you anyway, idiot.”

you blink, unsure if you’ve heard him correctly. you turn your head slightly, trying to see his face, but he buries it against your neck, hiding his expression. “did you just—?”

“don’t make a big deal out of it,” he mumbles, voice suddenly gruff, though you can hear the embarrassment beneath the words.

a smile breaks across your face, warmth spreading through your chest. you didn’t expect it, but that makes it all the more special. he isn’t saying it because the moment demands it.

he isn’t saying it because you’re waiting. he says it because he wants to, because he feels it.

“I’m not,” you reply, trying to sound nonchalant but failing miserably as your happiness bubbles up in your voice. “but…I love you too.”

you feel his grip tighten around you and a kiss pressed to your shoulder.

kofi — navigation — masterlist

do not copy, translate, or plagarize

[seokminfilm]

printer problems — vernon chwe

🤍 pairing, vernon chwe x reader

🤍 warnings, non-idol au, fluff, loosely (and i mean LOOSELY) based on the tv show abbott elementary, first-grade teacher!vernon, kindergarten teacher!reader, vernon is whipped, coworkers to ???, lowkey flirting, svt members mentioned as teachers, cursing (vernon says like 4 curse words), awkward vernon ftw

🤍 summary, the seemingly untouchable first-grade teacher vernon chwe has a little (read: huge) crush, and it's on none other than the sweet kindergarten teacher (aka you)

🤍 author's note, i was scrolling on my 'for you' page on tumblr today and saw a post by @miniskirtmods talking about an abbott elementary au with vernon and i was instantly enamored with the idea 😭 yes i know nothing about this show BUT this was just too cute of an idea to exist SO here we are!

(psa: if you don't know about this show, no worries!! there are no references to the show in this because i know nothing about it and don't want to look stupid trying to know 😭 so just enjoy it as a teacher!vernon fic)

🤍 now playing, mutt (leon thomas)

🤍 word count, 924 | for @kstrucknet, @maestro-net

vernon felt like a second-grader, taking his measly lunch of a turkey sandwich and ranch-flavored veggie straws to the teacher's table as he spied out the land.

("spying out the land" meaning trying to find a place to sit among the many teachers that made this underfunded school what it is.)

he could sit with fifth-grade teacher soonyoung who had a worrying obsession with tiger-print clothes, second-grade teacher joshua who all the staff thought was secretly gay, or maybe even third-grade teacher seokmin who also doubled as the school's event planner, music teacher and librarian.

(yes, they were that understaffed.)

all of those options paled in comparison to you, though—the new kindergarten teacher who everyone loved. you had gotten on everyone's good side in just a short time, and all of your students loved you, singing your praises as they went through the halls.

and vernon's in love with you—how? he doesn't truly know? why? well, he can list a hundred things, but over half of that list would make him sound desperate for your company.

(which wasn't all a lie, either.)

so, vernon, like the second-grade loser he feels like, awkwardly makes his way over to the end of the table where you sit, munching on carrots after dealing with a small disagreement between kids arguing about which sour patch kids flavor was better.

"hi, chwe." you smile, eyes meeting his for the ninth time today—not that vernon was counting or anything. that would be crazy.

...that would be crazy.

"hey," vernon tries his best to be nonchalant, throwing his boxed lunch on the plastic, slightly rickety table as he falls into his seat. his wire-framed glasses slide awkwardly down his nose as he looks down at the box, and he feels his cheeks heat up as you chuckle at him.

"your day been uneventful so far?" you ask sweetly, taking a bite of your salad as you watch vernon slowly. he unpacks his lunch, neatly arranging it before discarding his lanyard with his teacher id enclosed and wetting his lips.

"yeah, thankfully. i mean a kid did almost shit in his chair in my classroom, but that's nothing too new." vernon looks up at you through his eyelashes, admiring the sound of your pretty giggles. god, even your giggles were pretty.

"what about you? how's your day going?" vernon asks, finally taking a bite of his food as he watches you scroll on your phone. your hair falls in your face perfectly, obscuring most of your face except your pretty eyes as you return your gaze back to vernon. and that's the tenth time you've looked him in his eyes.

"it's going pretty good! we played with toys most of the day since the printer stopped working, and we—for some odd reason—we went and got the gym teacher to fix it." you say with a confused tone of voice, and vernon laughs to himself, trying to hide it.

that was very true—the school, being critically understaffed and underfunded (double wham), had a small circle of people who were assigned to do different things. mingyu, the gym teacher, was also the last-minute technician at the school.

"mingyu can't fix anything most of the time, let alone a fucking printer. i don't know why we still let him try to repair things." vernon laughs, and you shake your head, shrugging.

"i don't know, i think it's chivalrous for him to try to fix something, even if he doesn't know how to do it. it's cute, seeing him struggle sometimes." you smile down at your food, and vernon's smile fades just slightly, your words cutting like silly scissors.

vernon wasn't one for fixing things—he'd try to, sure, but as soon as he knew there was no use trying, vernon would stop.

mingyu, on the other hand, wasn't a quitter. he'd do what he did without fail, and whether it worked or not, he'd give it his best. and mingyu was cute while struggling to try to fix things? vernon might as well die, then.

who knew that vernon would ever want to switch places with mingyu? he'd do anything to have you talk about him like that.

"hey, i can fix your printer." before vernon is thinking, vernon is speaking, and he and all of his coworkers know how that ends.

you're staring at him with surprise in your soft, doe-like eyes, and god, vernon feels like he's melting on the spot. you're leaning in just slightly, fork in mid-stab as you eye vernon down. "you can?"

vernon knows he can't fix anything, let alone a whole printer, but with you staring at him like that, how can he say no?

"of course i can." vernon runs with the lie, shrugging nonchalantly and glancing down at his watch to quickly regain his composure.

"let me work on it after school. i'll stay late if you stay late." vernon feels a surge of confidence rush through him, and you smile, raising a playful eyebrow as you smirk at him.

"are you asking me on a date, chwe?" you say teasingly, and vernon's lithe lips part to reveal the prettiest smile you think you've ever seen.

"if you want to call fixing the school's rickety-ass printer after school hours a date, then yeah," vernon says with another shrug, and you nod, smiling as the bell rings, signifying the end of lunch. the two of you stand up, sounds of children filling the room loudly as you mouth: "it's a date."

[arabellasleopardcoat]

Spring (Cregan Stark x Reader)

Summary: As a Princess, you aren’t used to rejection. But Cregan, your husband, has vowed to only ever love one woman, and it isn't you. Right?

Warnings: Slightly less unreliable narrator (Cregan has come to his senses, reader is on the way) Mature language.

A/N: I really thought these two would get their mess sorted out in nine scenes, but I was far too optimistic. Lucky me, I had one season as backup! Also, thank you so, so much for continuing to read this series and your kind comments!

IT IS FUNNY, how wrong can Cregan be about people. He is no longer afraid to admit it. He had been mistaken about you. 

The utter viciousness you had displayed, bringing up his dead wife, had only been a source of anger for him at first. He had thought you an evil little bitch, unafraid of exploiting weak spots to hurt him. 

Then, he had seen you with Rickon. And his world had just… Shifted. As if every piece of furniture in Winterfell had been moved exactly one inch to the left, and no one had told him, leaving him stumbling around in his own home.

You weren’t evil or jealous. Or, more likely, you were, but not because of some petty reason, it was because you were insecure. The mere idea was laughable, why would a Princess of the Realm be insecure? But it made too much sense for him to ignore. 

Each time Cregan had cracked a joke that compared you to Arra, like commenting on the number of packages and dresses you had brought from the South, you had taken it as a personal criticism. You felt unappreciated, so you lashed out and avoided him at every turn. 

You were kind, smart, and capable. Just not in the way Cregan was used to women being capable. The northern women were considered capable because they were physically strong, able to wield bows, ride hard and long or withstand the terrible weather. 

You, instead, shared Prince Jacaerys’ strength. You were honorable, unable to leave a child in need, and kind, enough that you would comfort them until their parents reached them. But most of all, you had a brain suited for politics. 

Cregan had never noticed before because he had never bothered to truly look at what you were doing, but your charities were to make your mother’s cause more popular with the smallfolk. He had heard your mother was doing a similar thing in the capital, delivering food to the starved population due to a blockade of the own Blacks’ making. Not that the commoners cared about the last part. They only cared about those who put food on their bellies. 

And perhaps the Queen dowager and Princess Helaena were popular in the South because of their involvement in the Septs, but you were exploiting the lack of those here. Without Septs, there were no Septas or Septons tending to the sick and poor. You were. And the North would remember, when it came time to march for your mother’s banners. 

Cregan would bet Ice that you were having tea with the northern ladies not to gain friends. The Old Gods knew you were an introverted creature, painfully awkward at niceties, much like he was. It explained why the two of you were so uncomfortable with each other. You were probably entertaining the northerns to win their loyalties, knowing the combined pressure of Cregan’s oath and their wives would make his lords more eager to drop coin and men for your war. 

Oh, if Cregan got you on his side, the two of you would be a force to be reckoned with. He could already see how much security you could bring to the North, how well fed you could be during winter, if you decided to work with him and not behind him. 

You were a wonderful woman. Kind and tender to his son, smart as a whip, utterly terrifying when crossed. You would make a fine wife to any lord, and Cregan couldn’t believe how stupid he had been not to see it. You just needed to be encouraged, and Cregan, dumb as a rock, had been doing the exact opposite. 

While you hadn’t exactly been trying, Cregan was man enough to admit that part of the blame laid on him. He had been pushing you away without even realizing it, comparing you to Arra at every turn, without considering how that might come across to you. 

That ended today. He would prove himself worthy of your love and loyalty, and win you over. Cregan wasn’t a man of half measures. He would woo you or spend the rest of his life trying. 

Set in his decision, Cregan walked to your chambers. He waved off the guard’s attempt to announce him, casually strolling in. 

You were seated next to the fire, the leather-bound book you usually carried around spread over your lap. It was a heavy tome, bound in brown leather with golden engravings. It was written in High Valyrian, a language for which Cregan had little use, so he had never learned it beyond recognizing the alphabet. 

There was a striking beauty to your expression when you were at ease, the peaceful expression you wore becoming you much more than the usual frown you directed at him. Cregan found himself wondering how beautiful you must look smiling, if you looked this radiant when at peace. 

You had the sort of face to be lit up with happiness, he could already tell. His heart ached to be the one that finally coaxed it out of you.

“Princess,” Cregan calls, softly. You set your book aside, ready to get up and curtsy, but he halts you. “No need for that, wife. My ego is not so fragile I need my woman to bow to me.” 

“Lord Husband.” You reply, for once not frowning. Your face remains carefully neutral, which Cregan considers a victory. He would attribute it to his remark about his ego, but it is more likely due to guilt. He will take it regardless. 

“No need for that either, much less today.” Cregan smiles at you. “You may call me Cregan, if you wish. I am here to thank you for caring for my Rickon while I was away.” 

You look far more confused than you did before. You look like you want to approach him and run at the same time, your wool gown fluttering as you squirm in place, undecided if you are approaching or not. 

“I simply did my duty, my lord.”

Cregan’s smile widens, amused by you. 

“Singing him was part of it? By the Gods, I thought I had a wife and not a minstrel?” And the dry, northern humor doesn’t seem to suit you because you frown slightly. Cregan fights the urge to curse, instead making a mental note. You dislike being mocked, even in jest. He wonders what sharp words you had to endure in the South to be like this, and feels a wave of pity. Dark of hair and no dragon to shield you? Perhaps that was why you were far kinder to Sara than to him. He gives a tasteful cough. Or at least, his attempt at it. 

“I only meant to say you went beyond your duties, and I thank you for it. You didn’t have to, but it meant the world to him.” Cregan tries again, and you blink at him, as if he were unable to understand anything at all. 

“He is a child.” You say, slowly.  “No person would leave a child in need.” 

“You would be surprised.” Cregan thinks of how his own mother had treated Sara when she had arrived at Winterfell, treatment that hadn’t improved when his aunt took on as the Lady of the household. His sister had only known freedom after Cregan had taken over his seat, and she was still judged by the rest of the North, even though in a much subtle manner. 

“Mmm.” Your reply is noncommittal. 

“He has been asking me lately why he doesn't have a lady mother.” Cregan attempts again. He is not above using Rickon to have an excuse to spend time with you. And to his amusement, it does work. You pity his son more than him, it seems because you begin to pay him more attention.  

“What did you tell him?” You tilt your head to the side, curious. It’s a surprisingly cute gesture for the unshakable princess that you are. 

“I do not know. I have not answered him.” Cregan searches for somewhere to sit, but apart from the loveseat in which you are soaking up the warmth of the fireplace, there is none. He grabs the stool by your writing area, and brings it over. 

He sits on the stool across from you, wiggling a bit with how uncomfortable it is. It feels like his knees are on his chest, by the Gods. It’s clearly meant for a shorter person. Your rooms are not made for receiving visitors, he should have thought of that earlier. You need a space to receive people that isn’t the sitting room. What if you wish to have more private conversations?

“Surely he knows she is dead?” You are too caught up in your disbelief to protest that he is rearranging your furniture. Good. 

“He does, but doesn’t quite grasp what dead means.”  Cregan is being honest. Whoever has the heart to explain to a child of two namedays what death is, is a braver man than him. 

“Perhaps you could say she is in the Seven Heavens?” Your frown comes back, but this time it isn’t angry. Instead, it’s puzzled. You are trying to help him, and it makes him fight the urge to smile. He doesn’t want you to think that he is mocking your suggestion. 

“We do not believe that here.” 

“Neither do I.” And this time, there is the barest beginning of a playful smile on your lips. Oh, you minx! Cregan smiles to himself, charmed. It emboldens him to continue. 

“Just, I would like it if you saw him more often. With me. Perhaps… He has asked about you, and I am not asking you to replace her but I… He sometimes needs a more feminine touch.” 

“Of course.” You agree. And he can see in your eyes you think he might be trying to use you as a stand in for Arra, not truly believing his words, but that is alright. Cregan will show you. Or at least, he is going to do his very best attempt. 

YOU MAKE SURE there are enough pastries and hot water available before you stand up.

“I am afraid I must leave you, my ladies. But you are welcome to continue enjoying the hospitality of Winterfell.” The sitting room is filled with northern women. You have begun inviting them for tea twice a moon, trying to ensure your mother will have all the support she needs when she takes King’s Landing. 

It has proven to be quite the difficult task. Northerns are often suspicious of outsiders, and from what you have learned through these gossip sessions, they rarely marry southrons. The only ones who do are the most important Houses, like the Starks or the Boltons. It means that most of your ladies are northern by birth, and not through marriage as you are. 

“This early?” Lady Mormont asks, bluntly. Her bluntness had discomfited you during your first meetings, but you have come to find it refreshing. “Princess?” She tacks on, remembering she is supposed to mind her courtesies with you. 

“This early.” You confirm, with a smile. You have planned the time of this tea with precision for this same motive, knowing it will appeal to their loyalty, but also allow you to escape the socializing. “I have a play date with my Lord Husband and little Rickon.” 

One of the ladies coos. Lady Mormont barks out a laughter. 

“Ah, to be a young woman with that many suitors.” 

“Only the very best.” You smile, and leave them to feast on the pastries. 

You make your way to Cregan’s solar at a leisure pace. The crushed velvet gown you are wearing is in a blue so pale it almost looks like the gray of House Stark. It is one of your old ones, meant to evoke House Velaryon’s colors. It fits you again, having gained a bit of weight during your time in the North. You hope it is a gown suitable for playing with a toddler. 

As you enter, you notice Rickon is arriving as well, tugged along by a maid. He chirps a greeting to you, a mix of your name and title that sounds more like gibberish. Yet, you are helpless to him.

“Rickon!” You kneel by him, as he runs to be picked up. You indulge him, smelling his hair as you lift him. He smells of sweet innocence, and a bit like Cregan. You hate that you cannot hate him or be indifferent any longer. The little boy has stolen your heart. 

Rickon gives you a toothy smile, his hands clumsily going to cup your face. Who can resist him? Not you. 

“I see you found each other.” Cregan leans against the door, smirking. He holds two cups. “Warm milk with honey. For the cold.”

You cannot help but smile a little. 

“Our knight in shining armor!” You tease, more for Rickon’s benefit than him. “Let us in, good Ser. So I can place my little wildling down and he can drink it.” 

Cregan laughs and moves aside to let the two of you pass. As you do so, you cannot help but notice how much space he takes up, tall and wide. Your eyes linger on his shoulders. You have not seen him wield Ice yet, but you have seen the sword. He has to have considerable strength to do so. 

The thought is strangely thrilling. Your stomach does a somersault, but before you have time to analyze it, Rickon begins to squirm in your arms. 

“Down! Down! Doggie!” He pleads. You look to see what has caught his attention and notice that Cregan has moved the rug so it lays by the fireplace, and placed some of Rickon’s toys there, including his more favored one: A soft cotton white wolf. 

You set Rickon down and take one of the cups from Cregan. Both of you sit down on the rug as well, and watch Rickon play with his wolf, ignoring his cup of milk. You have come to learn that playing with an only child is much different than playing with your younger siblings, Rickon mostly plays alone and wants you there to show you things. 

It forces you to keep conversations with your husband, if only because the silence would be too awkward otherwise. 

“I have arranged for us to have tea when Rickon tires.” Cregan informs you, a bit stiff.

“Oh, I already had tea with the…” You start, before Cregan interrupts you. 

“You are far too thin still. Besides, I know your tea spreads are made of mostly northern sweets. I asked the cooks to make one of your favorites, Prince Jacaerys was kind enough to set up correspondence for me with the cooks of Dragonstone.” 

It’s awfully thoughtful of him, and you will examine it later because your mind is still stuck on one tiny detail. One that infuriates you. 

“You are corresponding with Jace?” You ask, trying hard not to sound violent. After all, he has been very kind to you as of late, and guilt has begun to creep in for your careless words about his late wife. Not that you will apologize or anything. You intend to pretend nothing happened and be extra nice to Cregan, indulging Rickon and him on all the tea and play dates in the world. 

“I am. He would be very pleased if you stopped burning his letters.” His tone is chiding, though gentle. You take a deep breath in. Jace, the traitor. Cregan keeps his tone kind. “He still grieves your brother, Princess. Do not make him mourn a sister in life.” 

“Does he think I shall never forgive him?” You ask him, baffled. Rickon begins building a tower with blocks on the rug, insisting that the two of you aid him in building Winterfell, so Cregan’s answer is delayed. As you place some blocks to make the entrance, you have time to think over his words. 

All alone in Dragonstone, Jace must be feeling as lonely as you are. Only more because he has no Cregan and Rickon to stand with him. 

What he had done was a deep betrayal in your eyes, but was it truly? You had known you would have to marry eventually, and it probably wouldn’t be a love match. Jace had done the best he could in the terrible circumstances you were in. Moved by his fear of losing another sibling, he had entrusted you to Cregan because he thought you could be happy here. Safe. 

And you were. There was no fiercest protector for you apart from your husband. After marrying him, no one had dared even to breathe the rumors of your bastardy, and he even worried about what you ate, by the Gods’ sake!

“You can hold a grudge.” Cregan says, cautiously, when Rickon is distracted by his cup of milk and begins to attempt drinking it. Usually, drinking his milk is followed by passing out, so he is careful to support him in his lap. The sight makes your chest feel oddly warm. 

Oh. 

Oh. 

This was bad. 

You were falling in love with Cregan. 

“Perhaps I don’t want to any longer.” You say, looking into his eyes. You are no longer speaking of Jace. 

Cregan seems to catch on your meaning because he reaches forward and takes your hand in his. Fixated on how big and warm his hand feels against yours, you almost miss his soft words. 

“Neither do I.”

SARA’S EYES, GREY and so much like his father’s, are fixed on him. Cregan tries to ignore her, unwilling to give her the satisfaction of appearing uncomfortable. But before the hour passes, he is squirming in his chair, unnerved by her silent stare. 

Sara continues to stare. Cregan refuses to speak to her. After a while, she sets down the book she has taken from his shelves, a dreadfully boring account of the battles fought by the Kings of Winter, and perches her chin in her hands. 

That way, her staring is much more obvious. She is comfortably laid back in one of the armchairs he has in his solar. Cregan likes company when he works, and it’s easier to ask for her opinion if she is right there. Unfortunately, it also means she can stare at him for hours on end if she so wished.

“What?” Cregan asks, when he can’t take it any longer. He pushes away the reports about the safety of Wintertown and how prepared they are for winter, and looks up at her. She still doesn’t speak. “Sara!” 

“Apologies, brother.” By her smile, she is anything but sorry. “I just find it fascinating.” 

Cregan sighs. He doesn’t really want to bite, but if he doesn’t, Sara’s teasing will get worse and worse.

“What is fascinating?” 

“How you have managed to turn into a spineless southron in less than two moons.” Cregan can only gape at her. What is she going on about? “Not only have you turned timid, you are also a moron. And cunt struck. Well, are you? I know you are not getting any, does one need to actually be bedding the woman to be cunt…” She doesn’t even finish her words, cackling with laughter.

His face grows hot, burning with embarrassment. 

“I should have married you to an Umber and be done with it.” He mutters, under his breath, which only makes her cackle further. Both of them know that Sara would never be married off as if she were some cattle. Cregan loves her too much for it, and she is a deeply independent woman. 

“Who would advise you, then?” She asks him, brazenly. “Your sweet little wife? While she is great at wrangling lords and ladies, I doubt she has the stomach for warfare.” 

“There is a certain innocence to these Velaryons, yes.” At his words, Sara glares. She hates to be reminded she had not been as immune as she liked to think she was to Prince Jacaerys’ charms. “But if the worst comes to pass, I actually intend to have her hold Winterfell alongside you and Rickon.” 

“There must always be a Stark in Winterfell.” Sara approves. “Shall you march south, Rickon and I will suffice.” 

“I wish to begin teaching her, when she no longer seems willing to murder me.” 

“I think she isn’t willing to murder you any longer.” And it is as good of an endorsement he will get from Sara. 

“She still seems to think I do not love her.” Cregan whines. 

“Because you mention Arra all the time. I have heard it’s in bad taste, but what would I know?” Sara rolls her eyes. “I am just some bastard girl.” 

“Are you simply going to complain or will you help me?” Cregan looks at her and tries giving her his best pleading look. Then, he decides to stroke her pride. “You know I always seek your council, even above other lords.” 

“Even above Lord Cerwyn?” Her mouth purses in a dubious pout. Fuck. His sister or his best friend? In the end, the choice is easy. Sara is here now, after all. 

“Of course.”

Sara positively beams. 

“You should tell him so.” Her rivalry with him had never made any sense to him, they had known each other since childhood, too. The man didn’t even care about who her mother had been and never took insult with her… Well, insults. Plural. Always thrown at him by Sara. Now that he thought of it, his friend always sought excuses to see Sara. Odd. “Loudly. But I am feeling generous and not demand that you do so immediately. I shall gloat in my victory, and it will be even sweeter if he doesn’t know.” 

“Your advice?” Cregan asks, tiredly. The Gods knew that she would talk circles around him if he let her. She was honest, but she also had a gift for courtly speech that Cregan despised. 

“Women like gifts. Or I do. And I am a woman.” Sara shrugs. “She is a Princess, of course she does too. And don’t just gift her anything.” 

“I would never be…” That stupid, Cregan wishes to add, but Sara is still speaking. 

“Gift her something special. Something unique, tailored to her. And especially, something that you wouldn’t gift practical Arra.” 

Cregan stares at Sara. Sara stares back. Then, very pointedly, she picks up her book and continues to read. The message is clear. He will not get any further help. 

Still, her advice lingers. In the coming days, Cregan cannot shake the thought, regardless of what he is doing. As he inspects his men, as he reads during his spare time, even as he bathes. All Cregan thinks of is you, and a gift that would please you. 

He even dares ask Rickon. His suggestion of a direwolf isn’t exactly bad. It’s just difficult on its execution, and not something Cregan would choose when thinking of a gift for you. 

He discards many more ideas, from rolls of myrish lace to donations to your charities. You ran far too cold to wear the former, and the latter wouldn’t truly be a gift to you. He wastes nearly a week coming up with a suitable idea, and two more corresponding with the Prince, the Maester at Dragonstone, and securing the goods he needs. 

It’s all worth it, when he takes a look at the finished present and can know that you will love it. 

[sugarphoric]

when husband!nanami has a crush on his wife! :)

slight nsfw, gn!reader for the most part except for like. wife/gf. actually is this even gn anymore guys im so sorry idk im slow

nanami kento whos been happily married to you for years now, and has never felt a day where he didnt feel this love for you. but recently - and he cant tell you when it started - hes started getting... butterflies?

it started off small- when he worked and had a thought of you, he would be smiling and giggling almost maniacally without him realizing, leaving coworkers thinking hes finally lost it.

then, it started to get bigger.

hed be driving home and while checking his blind spot, that small shift of his head allowed him to get just the tiniest whiff of your perfume- fuck, if there was a car he definitely wouldve crashed. nostrils fully flared, his breathing is completely erratic to see if he can get another hit, pedal almost to the floor, more impatient than ever to get home.

he cant tell if hed rather be at home or at work, both a personal paradise and a jail cell- you occupy his every thought that small butterflies turn into heart throbbing chest pains (he even visits the doctor to see if he had survived a week long heart attack from how much it ached in his chest (he didnt have any complications, only a very very high heart rate? ... weird)). he cant do anythjng about it so he starts hitting the gym as much as he can to attribute this throbbing with hard-work and exercise (hes there so often people have started to think hes a manager)

now its gotten so bad that he finds himself not being able to look you in the eye, so conscious that hes making EYE-CONTACT with his CRUSH (wife), or else hes going to turn into a mess (as if he wasnt already) - blushing, stuttering, pants going tiighttt, you name it.

hes feining so hard that hes started courting you again (like a fucking bird), dressing himself up as best as he could, seriously making him look like the best suitor on the market possible (even if he wasnt youd still pick him). normally a very financially responsible man, its uncharacteristic of him to spend money left and right arguably buying the most expensively useless things imaginable that he knew you would like (but it reminded him of you so how could it be useless? (._.))

you initially thought he was mad at you with the way he started to ignore you, refusing to touch you or make eye contact, refusing to hold a conversation longer than five minutes (it was because he would actually cum his pants (from talking!!) if he held it out any longer), hes never felt more like a schoolboy till now. oh and you (unknowingly) were not helping his case; sweet, honey dripping whispers of "im sorry"s and "i love you"s, michelin star curated bento boxes with his favorite foods paired with such sugar infused notes of encouragement and love to get him through the day.

you, too, were now dressing to the T's. you could easily steal the title of "world's most unforgiving fashion critic" with how precise you were with every detail of your outfits, your hair, anything that would catch his eye. days and nights of dolling up to try and even seduce your way to his "forgiveness"- and it didnt even work in the end, if anything, it made him retreat even further :(

(he almost slept in the guest bedroom when this started to happen- hell he was this close to renting a hotel room for the night. if he couldnt even handle your horribly messy morning face, how could he ever handle you looking like a damn angel sent from god himself)

then it was a whole plethora of thinking he felt guilty for something like breaking your eyeshadow palettes or shattering a plate, or was trying to keep a massive secret from you. and fuck if you thought hed wanted a divorce but didnt know how to tell you! (which was far from the truth apparently)

you finally understand he doesnt want a divorce, but hes... weird.

it was, really, nothing short of endearing, frustrating, and pathetic. hes never acted this way, even on your wedding day nor the day he proposed nor the day he even got to finally have you as his proud girlfriend. even way before when he spent years pining and courting (like a bird) for you to be his girlfriend!! hes always had this air of "cool and confident", almost egotistical if he wasnt so humble, so this... yea this was different.

it finally pushed you to the edge, so what better to do than implement the "forced proximity!" trope while he was in the shower! ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა (it was created for a reason)

if it wasnt obvious before about his big fat crush on you, it was obvious now as the immediate sight of your naked body in the shower, with him, together- oh hes already hard and dripping so much pre- no, he actually just came. his face incredibly red, eyes almost vibrating due to not knowing where to look, mind buzzing from feelings of embarrassment, ecstasy, shame, love, everything all together at once.

and what a sight it is, that your husband nanami kento is finally professing his love for you, his deep crush on his wife, naked (and still hard) in the shower. you can only giggle at his foolishness before pulling him into an attempted kiss, one filled with laughter and teeth equally spilled from the two of you underneath the falling water :)

its far from the oh-so-dreamy scene seen in The Notebook, but lets be honest, this version of you and your husband is way better than what Hollywood could ever win awards for.

[alisonsfics]

team building

pairing: carmy berzatto x reader

summary: when natalie suggested a day of team building, carmy wasn’t thrilled with the idea of a wasting a day in the kitchen. he knew it would piss richie off though, which made it so much easier to agree. and he knew he’d get to spend more quality time with you.

word count: 2.4k

Things had been off at the restaurant. After a less-than-spectacular review from a food critic came out about the Bear, everybody had been on edge. Richie and Carmy were arguing all the time. Not important arguments, but just bickering about nonsense.

So, Sugar came in one day and suggested a team building day as a reset for everyone. Carmy had thought she was joking. Any time not spent in the kitchen felt like wasted time to him.

The only reason that Carmy ended up agreeing was because he knew how much it would annoy Richie.

That was how you all found yourself at a local park on a chilly Chicago morning.

You were one of the first ones to show up because your alarm went off earlier than you had meant for it to. You crossed your arms in an attempt to warm yourself up.

You headed towards Sugar, Syd, and Marcus, who were sitting and chatting at a picnic table.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” Sydney joked, seeing the tired look in your eyes. You smiled to yourself at her joke before giving her a quick hug.

She patted the seat next to her, and you quickly sat down. You crossed your arms on the table and leaned your head down. “Wake me up when everyone gets here,” you mumbled before closing your eyes.

“Okay, honey,” Natalie said, giving you a sweet smile.

Fifteen minutes later, Carmy pulled into the parking lot. He quickly flipped down his sun visor and checked his appearance in the mirror.

Knowing that he’d be seeing you, he fixed his hair, pushing some of the loose strands out of his face.

He carefully juggled the trays of coffee that he bought for everyone as he walked into the park. He spotted Natalie, who waved him over.

His eyes instantly landed on you. As he neared the table, he noticed that you hadn’t moved. “Is she sleeping?” He mouthed, looking at Sugar. She mouthed “yes” and nodded.

He quickly nodded, trying to be as silent as possible. Sydney scooted over, so that Carmy could sit between the two of you. It wasn’t an accident that Natalie and Marcus didn’t offer him a seat on the other side of the table. The whole team had been trying to facilitate the two of you getting together for months.

Carmy carefully set down the trays of coffee, desperately trying to not wake you up. He adored you, and everyone knew it.

He handed cups of coffee to Sydney, Natalie, and Marcus. His elbow accidentally bumped into your side. You slowly picked your head up from the table, a sleepy look on your face.

“Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you up.” he said, apologetically. You nodded, giving him a soft smile once you saw him. He handed you a cup of coffee as an apology.

“Thank you,” you said softly as you took a sip.

“Of course,” he said, willing to do anything to make you smile like that. You leaned your head over onto his shoulder, and he thought was gonna burst.

Sugar immediately had a smirk on her face when she noticed Carmy’s giddy smile. Carmy ignored her teasing and tried to pretend the love he had for you wasn’t obvious to everyone around him.

“Not enough sleep?” He whispered to you, letting his arm wrap around your shoulder. “Mhmm,” you quietly hummed, nestling yourself into his side.

“You guys want to come help me set something up?” Sugar asked Sydney and Marcus. The three of them quickly got up to leave but not before winking at Carmy.

After months of it, Carmy had come to expect their matchmaking antics.

“Y’know, I bet Nat would let you skip this if you need to get some sleep,” Carmy said, looking down at you. You shrugged your shoulders. “It’s fine, Carmy. I’m just a little sleepy.” You said.

A shiver ran down your spine from the chilly air. “You’re freezing. Here, drink some of your coffee.” He said, using his free hand to give you the cup.

You sat up, leaning away from Carmy and quickly stretching. You took the cup out of his hand and took a few sips. “You take such good care of me.” You said, smiling at him over the lid of your cup.

He returned your sweet smile. “You’d do the same for me.” He replied simply.

He noticed how your hands were slightly shaking as you shivered. He slid his denim jacket off his arms and wrapped it warmly around your shoulders.

Carmy’s cologne, which coated the jacket, filled all your senses. “Thank you,” you said, softly. Everything about Carmy made you feel like you were a teenager again.

“Am I interrupting some flirting?” You both heard Richie’s loud voice as he walked up to the both of you.

“Take some coffee and shut the fuck up,” Carmy countered. It was a little too early for Carmy to want to deal with the incessant teasing about your relationship, or lack there of. Richie held his hands up in surrender and grabbed a cup of coffee.

“Good morning, Richie,” you said. Your sunny disposition was a direct contrast to Carmy’s current attitude toward Richie. Carmy didn’t want Richie to embarrass him in front of him.

“Good morning, sweetheart. It’s nice to see that someone’s in a good mood.” Richie said, directing a joking glare at Carmy.

“Call me sweetheart again, and I’ll hit you.” You warned, leaning your head back on Carmy’s shoulder. Carmy chuckled at your threat. “Point taken, won’t happen again,” Richie said simply.

Richie had learned not to push your buttons the same way he did to Carmy. He gave your hand a quick squeeze, which you took as a valid apology.

“Carmy, can we borrow your girl for a second?” Sydney called out to him. A giggle slipped out of your lips, while Carmy groaned. “Oh, for fucks sake,” he mumbled to himself. Before he could argue, you jumped up from your seat. “Coming,” you yelled, walking towards them.

“Come on, cousin, you gotta quit with the fucking jokes,” Carmy said to Richie after you were out of earshot.

Richie walked closer to him and took a seat beside him. “When are you gonna tell her how you feel?” Richie asked him, his tone very serious.

“You know I can’t. We work together.” Carmy said, simply. He hadn’t given the idea much thought. Sure, Carmy was basically head over heels for you, but he wouldn’t allow himself to even fantasize about the possibility. “She cares about you, Carm. Like really cares about you. That shit is special.” Richie told him.

“Boys, get over here.” Sugar yelled, in a motherly fashion.

Carmy and Richie immediately headed to join the others, knowing not to argue with her.

The two of them became hesitant when they realized they were walking towards a Twister mat. “Oh, come on, Nat,” Carmy started to protest.

“No buts, you are playing this game.” She told him, crossing her arms.

The five of you: you, Carmy, Sydney, Marcus, and Richie, all kicked your shoes off while Natalie grabbed the spinner.

It started off pretty mundane. “Right foot, red,” Natalie called out.

Richie “accidentally” slipped and fell, getting himself eliminated. But, you all knew that he just wanted to stop playing as soon as possible. He went to sit next to Sugar and laughed at the four of you as you struggled.

You and Carmy ended up face-to-face, only separated by a few inches. You giggled at Carmy trying to keep his hair out of his face.

Marcus got distracted by looking at you both swooning. His foot slipped, and he fell into the grass.

Natalie called out the next movement, which got you and Carmy separated enough, so you both could think straight.

Carmy ended up facing a different direction, but you could see Sydney’s face. She wiggled her eyebrows and looked between you and Carmy.

“Stop it,” you mouthed at her, trying to stop her teasing. An impossible goal.

She raised her eyebrows at you, challenging you. You didn’t know what she was going to do, but you didn’t think it boded well for you. You followed her gaze to the green circle her hand was currently resting on. She slid her hand to the side and pretended to slip.

“Oh, whoops,” she sarcastically whispered to you. With Sydney out, that left just you and Carmy. And all your friends watching.

Carmy couldn’t see it, but you watched Sydney join Natalie and move the spinner to the color she wanted. Natalie called it out, “right foot, blue, Carmy,”.

Not knowing about the secret plot, Carmy innocently followed the directions, putting you both in an awkward situation. Richie was the first to realize how unfortunate the position was, chuckling to himself.

You were currently in a downward dog position, and Carmy had his hands on either side of yours. Due to the recent “spin,” his chest was leaning against your back, and his hips were pressed forward against your ass.

Carmy tried to keep as much distance between the two of you as he could. He wasn’t trying to be creepy, but he was kind of stuck.

“There’s kids at this park, come on, Berzatto,” Richie teased. Everyone realized what he was implying and started chuckling.

Carmy’s face was bright red, and he was beyond embarrassed. The humor wasn’t lost on you, but you were more amused than Carmy was at the situation.

“Team bonding, Natalie? I think we’re getting a little more than that.” Richie joked again. You started laughing and trying desperately to not slip and fall. As you were laughing, your whole body shook…against Carmy.

Behind you, you heard a small groan from Carmy that only you could hear. Everyone was also unaware of how he was biting down on his lip. Carmy was trying to think of anything that wasn’t how close he was to you right now.

He normally had a million thoughts racing around his head, but right now there was only one.

Completely distracted, his foot slipped. He fell on top of you, sending you both crashing towards the ground.

He shifted his weight, so he wasn’t leaning all his weight on you. “Oh shit, sorry. Are you okay? You good?” He anxiously asked you. He moved his hand to cradle the back of your head, making sure it didn’t start bleeding when you bumped it on the ground.

“I’ll go grab some ice.” Sydney said, the others following her to give you both some privacy.

“Carmy, I’m fine. It was just a bump.” You assured him. It didn’t get rid of the worried look in his eyes. “I’m so fucking sorry. I should have been more careful.” He apologized. You could see the guilt in his eyes.

“I’m okay, I promise,” you tried unsuccessfully to convince him.

He moved his hand from the back of your head to brush a piece of hair behind your ear.

You grabbed his wrist and pulled it towards you, pressing a soft kiss against the bottom of his palm. It was a silent way of trying to calm Carmy down and assure him everything was fine.

“Besides, who else gets to say they’ve had the one and only Carmen Berzatto on top of them like this.” You teased him, gesturing at how he was still hovering above you.

He easily could have sat up and helped you up. It would’ve been even easier now that you’d pointed it out.

He stayed where he was.

If he moved any closer, his whole body would be pressed against yours. His lips were only millimeters away from yours, which made it so much harder for him to not kiss you.

“Wait…what?” He asked, snapping out of his thoughts.

You gave him a look that let him know that he already knew the answer.

“Are we just going to play this game forever? Where we dance around actually telling each other how we feel? You can’t possibly have any doubts that this is mutual. Our friends haven’t been teasing us about flirting for no reason. And you weren’t exactly subtle when you were practically thrusting your hips into my ass.” You explained.

For a second, you could see the gears turning in his head.

Then, he kissed you.

It was rushed but not short. Your arms naturally found their way around his neck. You both smiled into the kiss, grateful that it was finally happening.

Subconsciously, you both knew this day would come, but recently you’d been doubting it.

As Sydney dug through the cooler, Richie noticed you both over her shoulder.

“Oh my god. Cousin finally fucking went for it.” He exclaimed to himself. The rest of the group followed his gaze to see what he was talking about.

When they laid eyes on you and Carmy, all their jaws dropped.

“God, you’re wonderful,” Carmy mumbled against your lips. You both got distracted when your friends starting cheering for you. You could see the embarrassment on Carmy’s cheeks when he realized they were cheering for you both.

Richie even decided to whistle at you, which looked very strange to onlookers.

“Kinda forgot they were here,” Carmy whispered, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

He bashfully stood up and helped pull you to your feet.

As you both walked back towards the picnic tables, you didn’t know what to do as they all stared at the two of you. Carmy grabbed your hand and interlaced your fingers, earning another cheer from Sugar and Sydney.

The two girls quickly pulled you both into a hug. “It’s about damn time,” Sydney told you, causing you to giggle.

“Now the bet can finally end,” Marcus added. After a second of silence, you and Carmy turned to look at him. “The bet?” You both asked in unison.

Instead of responding, Sydney, Marcus, and Natalie all handed Richie twenty bucks.

“We got bored watching you two pine over each other, so we started a bet. The three of us thought it would happen months ago, but Richie was in it for the long haul.” Sydney explained.

“You all had too much confidence in cousin’s confidence. I knew it would take him forever to finally fess up.” Richie said, smiling as he stuffed the money in his pocket.

“It wasn’t even me. It was all her.” Carmy said, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. There wasn’t much of a reaction. “I’m sure they’re really shocked by that Carmy.” You said, sarcastically.

Carmy just chuckled and kissed your forehead.

taglist: @laurakirsten0502 @miraclesoflove @nathaliabakes @millipop18 @lillyssh-tposts @shyinadarkplace @vanteguccir @missroro @guacam011y @sw33t-cupid @ice-dtae @leyannrae @sia2raw @nyx2021 @just-a-littlebit-of-everything @shyconversationalbookworm @shadowhuntyi @visenyaverse @ruzannetheseahorse @superdeath @wandaswifeyforlifey @spookyqueen @mcuswhore @bookwormchick91 @princess-evans-addict @n3ssm0nique @peakascum @cjand10 @namsey1987 @supernaturalstilinski @stephv213 @warriormirkwood @one-sweet-gubler @narliesstuff @bibissparkles @stupiidfrogs

Let me know if you want to be added to my taglist for all my imagines or for a specific character/fandom!!

[kainuhsblog]

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊ where were you ?

prompt it's well into the day/evening and you/piwon haven't responded to an invite to hang out

pairing various!piwon x fem!reader

genre bf!piwon, husband!piwon, whatever you want them to be!piwon

warnings light mode, some sort of worrying from both ends, ignored messages, mentions of food, sho's own is shorter but i feel like he'd get to the point quicker so i'm sorry sho stans, i head cannon'd the tropes for them but they can be whatever you want fr

a/n hi! my promised p1harmony content is here ! one of two actually. the other one is a secret.😉 i had fun writing these, and idk they might seem a bit ooc but let me know. as always, requests are open! hope you enjoy🩷

want more piwon from me ? click my other post ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ i should scold you ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ right here !

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ Yoon Keeho

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ Choi Taeyang

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ Choi Jiung

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ Hwang Intak

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ Haku Shota

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ Kim Jongseob

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ Bonus: My Head cannons

Yoon Keeho ⤷Best Friends; bi-weekly shopping trips, always getting takeout, and loves teasing you. you're the younger sister he never had basically. keeho's the friend you can go to for literally anything, and you try to be that person for him as well. especially since you both find shopping to be therapeutic.

Choi Taeyang ⤷Childhood Friends; Met each other in 2nd grade, and you've been inseparable ever since. you know his entire family and he knows yours. your moms became besties because you guys are. they always ship you guys as well. such silly moms, hahaha

Choi Jiung ⤷Friends ... to lovers? you and jiung have been tiptoeing around each other since the sun hung up in the sky two years ago. one day you decided to just start pursuing him, so your advances are laid on really thick. i don't think he knows you're serious though ... you've always been a flirt

Hwang Intak ⤷Mutual Pining; it's no secret to the two of you that you're both helplessly in love with each other. you had asked him to hang out with intentions of it being a date ... thankfully he thought the same thing.

Haku Shota ⤷Best Friends; you two are the friends who love to go on random adventures together. shota's always down to travel with you, and you're always willing to follow him anywhere. he's always a joy to be around, so you tend to spoil him a bit too much.

Kim Jongseob ⤷Strangers to Friends to ?? you and jongseob met at a cafe about a year ago, and as a self proclaimed food critic, you both agreed on the fact that the pastries at that cafe were straight dog water. after talking for a bit, you exchanged contact info with him so you guys can hang out and criticize more cafes. somewhere along the way, he started to fall for you ... but you don't notice any advances from the guy. poor seobie

[kiyzukiy]

Cat distribution system

Sypnosis: Caleb? A cat. You? None the wiser, but you have a stinky cat now so how about give him a bath? Nothing could go wrong, right?

Tags: CalebxReader, fun, Cat!Caleb, reader is not MC, self-aware!Caleb?, Caleb in our world

A/N: And I'm back again! This one is a bit shorter than the starter, but I hope you still like it. As usual cat shenanigans. That's it. I've also implemented a taglist now, so anyone who wants to get peeping hot updates hit me up! :3

Word count: 3,9k

<<previous || next >>

divider by me

Lost in your thoughts if you really should name a cat that you probably have to give away again, you didn’t notice the squirming cat on your thighs. Was it a wise choice? Probably not. If you gave it a silly name was it easier to give it away again? Like the ones they give the animals in a shelter. Dave, the magical cheese wizard or something. You also thought about giving it a meaningful name like “hope” or something along the lines. 

You only got disrupted by your sense of smell. Jesus Christ, was that you? No. You were forgetting something very important here, you were sure of it. Raising up your arms so you could smell your clothes, you wanted to facepalm yourself the very next second. The cat. Where did you find it? That's right. In a dumpster. Oh your fucking god. 

Amused about your own stupidity you shook your head. You really were tired and your mind was barely even in survival mode. 

A tinge of guilt and shame hit your system. So immersed in yourself, you totally forgot that you picked up a cat on your way home and just did what you usually did. Playing Love and Deepspace for an hour and then making food as soon as motivation found your body again. It was a simple way to unwind. Clearing your head in a way and let you focus again as soon as your little me time was over. The true dangers of a routine, and what didn’t help your already offline mind was that cat quickly made your space to its new home. It surprised you that cat didn’t dive head first for a spot to hide after your small walk. You thoroughly expected that reaction as it was the default for any animal. Hide, checking out the stranger, gauging the threat and then maybe trying to form a relationship. 

Not your friendly buddy of a cat right here though. Would you have any brain cells left to use critical thinking, you also would wonder about the high intelligence the cat a moment prior showed. How knowingly it moved it’s paws to go to “falling for you”, watching what it saw as if it understood the scene that played. 

Once more ripped the stench you out of your thoughts. Cat however didn't seem to be bothered to be covered in grime and everything a street had to offer. Its fur caked together and a smell emitting you wished you could just dose it in a febreze bottle. 

“Alright. No name for you yet, buddy. First a bath”, you said and scooped the cat up. 

This time around the cat was not happy to be picked up. As soon as it wasn't on your legs anymore and near the tablet, cat began to yell and squirm in your arms like the devil was after it. 

“I know, I know. Cat’s can bathe themselves and get clean but this is only once. I promise”, tried to soothe it and held it a bit tighter. 

Cat didn't want to listen to you, it seemed like. Was it this against getting cleaned? Well, you did know cats usually didn't like water and maybe something bad happened to this cat with it. Rain and no shelter would be enough to avoid any kind of water, you think. Just for being in the safe, you closed the bathroom door behind you. No escape until this cat didn't smell like a drunk puked on it. 

________ 

First up? A good call from you to take a bath. He did feel disgusting. Slowly the sensation of sticky dirt and grime spread all over his body, and he too couldn't stand the smell anymore. What even was in that dumpster? Couldn’t he have woken up in a recycling bin rather than in a trash dumpster with whatever that was inside? 

Would he make it easy for you though? Hell no, he wanted answers and for you to figure out that the character you tried to gain affinity for and he was one and the same. That is what is most important here, right now. 

As soon as you scooped him up, he started to complain. Ranging from a simple “let me down, I can walk” over a few demands and maybe one insult but he would rather die than admit that. The next thing he heard was you trying to convince him that it wasn’t even that bad and he knew. Caleb knew it wasn’t that bad, that it was necessary even but he was stressed. Confused. Angry and frustrated. Agitated and for once in his life, he didn’t know what was going on. Back at the experiments as a child, even then, he had a sliver of understanding as to why certain things happened. This shit right here? No clue. A mission, blackout and boom: Cat. If he ever would be honest with himself? He wanted to cry. It was all too much, all too overwhelming. He just got it all back. MC found him again, they slowly were in the making of a new relationship and now this? He almost had it all back. 

The ash brown cat heard a lock falling into place. Oh no. His eyes and thoughts focusing back to reality that was about to unfurl. No, wait. Bathing? Him? You? You were going to bathe him? The realisation hit him like a freight train. He begged your finest pardon? No. The answer was no. Yes, it was necessary but he could do it on his own. No help needed. He was not a cat. He was. Not. A. Cat! No matter that he sported paws right now. He could make it work. He was a man and last time he checked, he was neither a child nor were you his mother that could warrant this treatment! 

You placed him on the ground again. Cold tiles beneath his paws and he had to watch you what could only be described as his personal doom: adjusting water. 

Ey! Leave! He can shower on his own! Ears flattening against his skull, he let out a growl. 

“Alright mister, no need to hiss at me. It's not my fault you ended up like that”, you said absentmindedly with a little laughter in your voice. You weren't even looking in his direction. But, oh a smile on your pretty lips. 

Caleb, in the back of his mind, did understand that you were doing your best as a person caring for a new found pet. If he would just take a deep breath and do what he usually did, that was seeing his opponent out of their eyes, he wouldn’t act this way but emotions were clouding his judgement so he did what he never did: letting them roll. Enraged at your unfitting response, he ended up nipping you in the heel.

“Ow! What the fuck? What was that for?”, with a look full of judgement you looked down at him. “I’m helping you here, you know?”

Serves you right, he meowed and huffed. 

“Not so friendly anymore, huh?”, you chuckled and shook your head in amusement. In the back of his field of vision he saw you turning the water off. Clearly satisfied with the temperature. 

Bold of you to assume that I’m friendly to begin with, he hissed. Not that he expected you to understand that. 

You now fully turned to him and got on your haunches. A hand slowly crept towards him. Inching closer to brush once more over his fur. Soothing, calming, trying to convince him.

“You really need a bath though, so don’t make this difficult for the both of us, yeah?”, you said and looked at him with a pleading look. 

Oh, game on. He will make you regret this. For picking him up on end, like he was some kind of plushie and not having a telepathic evol. Not that any of that was your fault. Was he petty? Childish? Probably, but he was frustrated and with no one but you to vent it on, this was almost too easy. 

Caleb let out a huff. Fed up with you touching him without asking and the height difference that made his neck harden. No wonder you didn’t take him seriously that much. Who would when a smudgy little being that only could hiss and meow showed an act of defiance that was born out of pure spite?

With a flittering look he spotted the next best thing to remedy this temporary issue. In quick succession he was on the bathroom sink and sat down. Now he was looking down on your hunched over form. Your move now.

“Oho? Is this how you wanna play?”, you said as you got up from your position on the bathroom tiles. “Buddy, if you don't go on your own I have no issues to grab you by the scruff and hold you beneath the water. A good little water boarding session would do your new found attitude some good.”

You tried to sound earnest but he saw the mirth in your eyes and the mischievous smirk building on your lips. Still, he kept sitting. Buddy, as if. You were all bark and no bite.

“Have it your way then”, your hand darted out. 

Nah, you wouldn't dare. 

Ey! No! 

He dashed away and just barely missed your hand that was straight going forthe back of his neck.

His escape route was right into the shower bed. Urgh, now his feet were wet. It felt more like stepping into water with socks on. This sensation did not spark joy. One dip and the next jump was right out of the shower again, a few hurried pitter patter taps and onto the toilet seat.

“Mister! Get back here!”

Nuh uh! You are crazy! Don't dare to remind him that he actually went with you to get clean. This objective clearly missing in his mind as he was hellbend of avoiding your hand that was rather good in trying to catch him. Making him work up a sweat. Just barely did he dodge your hand once more that reached for him and onto the sink shelf he went. If he could stick out his tongue, he would. Actually? Why not, he did stick out his tongue at you. 

“Oh you think you are so smart, mister fancy pants”, you said, slightly out of breath. “Just you wait.”

Try me, he meowed, his playful character seeping through. Like a predator lying in wait, you assessed if he would move again. He did the very same. A silent stand-off ensued. Who would move first? Could he hide somewhere? Would you reach out obviously again? 

In his moment of distraction he saw your hand too late out of the corner of his eye and the next thing he felt was your hand steadfast on his scruff. 

“Aha!”, you celebrated triumphant. “Got you!”

Ah, well fought. He yields, but only because it wasn’t worth it to prolong the inevitable further. Your blinding smile to your victory and cute giggle in your voice, might have helped him as well. Caleb came to terms with the fact that you would help him take his first shower in this body. The ash brown cat also had to admit that it was funny to play catch it with you. It took his mind away from the disconnecting mess of information that he still needs to process. For a bit he was just himself again.

Cautiously you put your hand on his hind legs and picked him up. Steady grip that was strong enough so he couldn’t struggle but not enough to hurt. You set him down in the shower and he almost immediately jumped out again. The feeling of wet socks shoots up in him once more and for a split second he wanted to dip. Nah, fuck this. 

“No. Stay”, you said with a stern voice and pressed his ass down in the shower. Ouh! Even worse! That’s like sitting down on a bench you didn’t know was wet. 

I can stand!, he complained. Your grip not loosing up in return. 

“Yes, yes. Water. I know. You got this.”

He definitely didn’t. Caleb's body was screaming at him to move and get rid of these sensations. You try to be a cat and he would force you to go through with this. You can bet your fine ass that he wouldn’t be so nice about it though. 

He sighed. Maybe he should be a bit more kinder to you. Disregarding the conflict in his mind that, yes. He could, should and it probably would make this all easier. On the other side, why? You are a stranger. Basically kidnapped him (no, he wouldn't elaborate that he coaxed you into taking him with you) and made threats to harm him. A stranger he would leave behind as soon as he got his answers and could go back to his universe.

The ash brown cat heard the water turning up again. The hand on his neck never leaving. Merciful you faced the spray away from him. He half expected a full on face splash for his little stunt he just pulled and you following through with your promise you made earlier. 

“Just how did you end up this way?”, you mused to yourself more than him. Honey, if only he knew. The meaning in more ways than one. 

The water gently sprayed his paws first and then his whole body. The light flow of the water was like a breath of fresh air. Calming and soothing, it washed away the sood and dirt in his otherwise pristine fur. As well as in his mind. Back to logically and rationally thinking about his situation.

All he could do was meow at you to make you see that he listened.

“Yeah, not helping much buddy. I don't understand cat”, you giggled and put a bit of shampoo in your hands. 

Again this buddy. For crying out loud, stop calling him that. He was not your friend nor a good acquaintance you could call that! 

In retaliation he bit your hand that was about to lather him up in soap. Immediate regret greeted his taste buds and you just laughed harder. 

“Suits you right. Bite me one more time, mister”, you grinned as you quickly went through his fur and got the sticky dirt out. Carefully and with a lot of probing, squeezing together and combing your finger through his fur you managed to make it smooth again. The flooring of the shower started to get coloured in a disgusting brown and grey. Small pebbles falling off of him. 

All through it, Caleb stood still. His body relaxing, him just letting you do what you have to do. The feeling of wet clothes leaving as soon as the water hit his skin and god damn, you were good at massages. He didn't realise how beaten up his body was and stiff in some places. This was heaven. 

Out of his control, he began to purr. 

“That's the good shit, huh?”, you said in a hushed voice, your hands still getting out knots without making it hurt.

Caleb nodded to your statement. This was really it. Water hit his body once more, a little bit warmer this time around.

“Alright, mister. One more time and then you are free.” 

Whatever you say, woman. He could just die right now. The ash brown cat wouldn't mind. He was in bliss. Your expert fingers making him forget that he actually still needed a way to tell you who he is and getting answers. 

This time a different shampoo made him bubbly. Slowly he opened his eyes, only to be hit by your hands on either side of his cheeks. Holding his face so tenderly like he was made out of glass. When was the last time he got hold like this? Like he was the most precious thing the earth could grace? 

“Hey there, big guy”, you smiled and slowly rubbed his face with your thumbs. Getting it also cleaned. “You truly have beautiful eyes.” 

Caleb breath got stuck in his throat. Uh…back off? A bit too close for comfort. Hello? Uh? 

A bit flustered he tried to move his head away but you gently turned it back to you.

“No, you need a handsome face too. Come here”, you said and returned back to gently rubbing his cheeks and lathering up his head. 

“Yeah, there you go. Look at you. Such a handsome fella.” 

Just how many compliments have you given him? He was used to having women and men alike salivating after him, but straight out compliments? It made him short circuit. 

Once more water washed over him. This time his face as well. Looking out for his ears and eyes you washed the foam away. The water stopped and a quick kiss was pressed to the crown of his head. What? 

“Wait here, mister”, he somehow registered you say. Was this violation? Assaulting, or did he like it? More confusion entered his brain. Breathing, he should be breathing. 

Moments later he felt the fluffy feeling of a towel upon him. Gently but steady you patted him dry. Sometimes ruffling to get friction into his fur to get more water out. After a while you seemed satisfied with your drying off, so you got up again and he out of the shower. 

Exhaustion tackled away the state of relaxation in him. The stark contrast of the humified, warm air in the shower and now being out of it made his small body shiver. Closing his eyes, he listened for what you are doing. Clinking and a few things got pushed aside, a cupboard opened and closed somewhere to his left. Not much later you were back in front of him. 

“Hm, is someone getting tired?”, you asked in a soft voice and with a hand full of affection stroked along his cheek.

Yeah, you could say that. The experiences, happenings, tumultuous feelings from today finally caught up with him. 

“Come on, buddy. I don’t know how much you like a blow dryer but you need to be properly dry before you get sick”, you explained. 

Mh okay…it made Caleb remember the times he gave the same treatment to MC. He wanted to laugh that he was the receiving end today. No one before even tried to attempt to do it for him. 

With no fight left in him, he let himself get picked up tenderly and placed on the bathroom sink. The whirring of the blow dryer starting soon after. Warm air washed over him, his eyes still closed. Just let him have this moment. This moment of care and tenderness, of not worrying for a bit, carefree maybe. For once not the one doing it all on his own. 

“You are such a handsome balinese cat. The audacity to hide that, hm?”, you said in between. “Now your owners will recognise you.”

Sorry to tell you, princess. There will be no owners but regardless did he appreciate your care. Your help. 

A balinese cat? That’s what he turned into? Interesting. This universe right here had an ironic sense of humor. Balinese cats were usually affectionate and playful. Things Caleb only was with his childhood friend. The only one he truly was close to. 

Your hands left his body and he was dry again. Caleb was now as fluffy as the towel you dried him off with. He could only assume you were putting away the blow dryer. Would he dare to look? Look at himself in this form? Maybe he would wake up then and he could laugh about it with MC, what a fucked up dream he had. 

So he turned to the mirror in front of the sink. An ash brown cat stared back at him. Black ears, whiskers and a black out right arm. The other three paws were also black, as the signature of a balinese cat. In his black face glimmered his own violet eyes he saw countless times before. Shining with the same intensity in lavender hues, strong blue lilac tones and the splatter of gold at the bottom. 

Ah, so it’s real. He is a cat. This is how you saw him. A pretty little kitty with full, soft fur and an even fluffier tail to accompany him with. 

He saw you approach in the mirror and he knew what was coming. He was getting picked up again, right? Okay, let's get it over with.

“Do you recognise yourself in the mirror?”, you wondered out loud. Mh duh, obviously. Caleb watched you stretching your back. A crack sounded through the bathroom and you let out a groan. Yo, you good there?

In these few seconds you sounded and looked a lot older than you were and Caleb blamed the exhaustion you must feel yourself. The spirit you showed earlier in trying to catch him must have drained all your energy you had left and Caleb respected you a bit for that. Fighting for what you assumed your responsibility. He let out a small laugh inwardly. Amused by his own actions and letting you see what normally was reserved for only one person.

“Alright, I leave you alone now, my brave fighter”, you smiled tiredly at him. “Gotta make some food.”

Huh? Okay...then...? Thanks?

Caleb inspected him for a few minutes more. Baffled and astonished with his new body. Would he become human again? Could he become human in this world? Would he only return to normal when he went back? How could he go back? Would you even know? You seemed ordinary. Living a simple life with a small reprieve in a game he was unfortunate to appear in. 

He sighed and patted after you. 

The rest of the evening flew past rather uneventful. Caleb thanked the gods that you didn’t have cat food immediately at home. Otherwise he would have started the next fight. Instead you served him some grinded beef with an egg in it. Raw, might he add but he chose against it to get angry at it. For you he was a cat. For now, he would let you believe it as well. But as soon as tomorrow came his plan would start. 

First he would test out if he still got his evol in this world. If he could manage that, he could show you how he manipulated certain things and that would be enough to understand that he was no simple cat or a cat at all for that matter. If he didn’t have his evol? Well, then he needed to find another way. No more blindly tapping on tablets and charade games. Clear and no misunderstandings for you. Caleb would make it crystal clear that he was himself. 

Something that did happen that evening that blew the wind out of his sails was, that you decided actually, for a fact, for real, to name him…Caleb. 

“I mean, you do have his eyes, you know?”, you explained your reasoning. “And if and when I find your owners you get your old name back anyway. It’s not like you will get used to it, right buddy?”

Count him flabberghasted, in utter disbelief. Didn’t you earlier in the evening say yourself, that this would be an awful idea? That you would have to be very lonely to be even considering that? Don’t lie to him. He remembers word for word. 

“Nobody would know that it comes from a otome game”, you rambled on. “And it’s not like you would mind.”

Does he? Caleb was conflicted. Yes, no, maybe? On one hand, yes it’s his name. The name he got. The one he was born with, and on the other hand? You didn’t see that name as anything more than from a character you liked. In the end, he accepted your name choice. One step at the time, right? He got the name down, now he needed everything else. 

The whole funny side with this rather ridiculous turn of your both lives was: 

You both needed each other, you just don’t know it yet.

tag list: @bookworrm1999 ; @luna-looniesblog ; @dummiebunny @roscpctals99 ; @mcdepressed290

~~~*~~~*.~~~*~~~*~~~*.~~~*~~~*~~~*.~~~*~~~*~~~*.~~~*~~~*~~~*.~~~*

Hey and welcome back to this story. I hope you enjoyed yourself. Any feedback is always appriciated, as long as it's constructive.

Thank you, beautiful soul for reading <3

[alexlwrites]

𝐑𝐞𝐝 𝐃𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐞𝐬

✿𝑷𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈: OT7 x Plus Size! Reader

✿ 𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: "What was so outrageous about someone like you, you asked yourself and the universe. You had tried your best to compensate for any shortcomings with everything else that was expected of you: femininity, understanding, a sense of humor. Never enough, those were never even the first thing that came to mind when people thought of you.

Why bother then? If nothing you did made any difference at all, why try? If people hated your body just for existing, why not give them a reason to hate your personality as well?"

OR  

The one where seven campus princes who are used to getting everything they wanted get enchanted by your distrust and brattiness, climbing over each other to get a smile from you who could not be bothered to give them a single second of your day.

✿ 𝑨/𝑵: I have no idea what actually goes in a carbonara, I only know that I enjoy eating it very much.

(Fanfic masterlist)

(support me on my ko-fi)

°•. ✿ .•°

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐰𝐨: 𝐑𝐞𝐣𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

(<<< part one)

As a fat person, you’ve always had a complicated relationship with food.

Luckily, it had never evolved into something unhealthy, never leading up to anything like starvation. It always just hovered over your existence, always seemed to weight you (pun intended, but you were allowed to make those!) down with guilty, overbearing self-awareness. Food came with so many unspoken rules, it was hard to truly enjoy it.

You avoided eating in front of people. When forced to go to a restaurant, you let everyone order first to make sure your meal was the smallest of the group and you never ever asked for seconds, much less for dessert. You could only ever be seen with protein bars and green shakes, if that. You were not allowed to enjoy the act of eating and were forced to walk this earth as if that was not your primary source of sustenance. No, you survived out of Chloe Ting videos and photosynthesis, or so was expected of you.

But even so, you loved cooking. 

It was not something you divulged, afterall how stereotypical that would be of you. And truly, it wasn’t even about eating your creations but instead the act of creating itself, the enjoyment of the very exact art leading to a beautiful result that at least others would get to enjoy, even if you wouldn’t sometimes.

But when you shed the shackles of caring and let go of giving fucks about what others had to say (and, Jesus, did they have things to say!), your first act of rebellion was signing up for cooking classes in a pretty bistro downtown. Still shaky and insecure, you arrived at the first class unsure of what to expect. But instead of judgemental looks and the evil critic from Ratatouille, you found yourself amongst other culinary enthusiasts who appreciated the therapeutic properties of a good meal. Instead of Gordon Ramseys and almond moms, you found yourself a community - you found friends.

You were with one of those friends a couple days after the library debacle, updating her of the whole ordeal with your cell phone on mute as Jungkook still tended to blow it up after you made the horrible mistake of unblocking him. Naomi was tall and built like a rugby player and you had quickly bonded over a shared love for bread.

“So he just… Brought you flowers?” she asked, leaning over your counter before the class started.

“Yes and now the whole campus thinks we’re together.” you rolled your eyes, still annoyed by Jungkook's unexpected display of affection “I had people coming up to me all week asking about him! Even professors!”

Naomi laughed “Sounds like  you got yourself a little campus prince.”

“I got myself a headache, that’s what I got.” you sighed, turning towards the teacher who had just arrived. “At least I can get away from all of that here.”

“Hello, class!” the teacher, a middle-aged lady with dark hair named Robin, called “Today, continuing on our italian cuisine section, we’ll be preparing spaghetti carbonara. But before we start, let me introduce our new student!” she gestured towards a tall man standing in the back of the class, all dark hair and large shoulders with a million dollar smile “Mr. Kim will be joining us from now on. You can sit with Y/N for now, dear!”

Mr. Kim didn’t shuffle silently to his seat like people usually did when arriving in a room filled with unknown people - instead, he strutted towards you with the loud confidence of someone who had never once tripped on their own shoes or had something stuck to their teeth. “Hi” he said when sliding onto the stool next to you, still sporting an unnervingly beautiful grin “I’m Jin.”

You smiled politely “Y/N. Nice to meet you.”

Jin nodded slightly “You too.”

You thought that was it, silence following your introductions as the teacher called the class to pay attention to her instructions.

You tried to follow the steps quietly, focusing on the ingredients in front of you. Still, curiosity caused you to furtively steal glances sideways to the beautiful stranger next to you maneuvering spices and chopping slices with what seemed to be practiced ease. You stared at his hands almost unblinkingly, hypnotized by his long, pink knuckled fingers and their agility…

“Do you need help?”

You blinked, snapping out of your less than appropriate daydreams “I’m sorry?”

Jin shrugged, picture-perfect casualty with a pinch of arrogance hanging in his smile that had your defenses climbing up “You were kind of staring and I thought you needed help with the recipe or something.”

He was right, you were staring, but you’d be damned if you admitted to that. Instead, you stole a quick look at his pan and said “You should add more garlic into that.”

That had him pausing in confusion, as if no one corrected his cooking before “Excuse me?”

“There’s not enough garlic. You should add more, it will enhance the flavor.”

“No, it won’t.” he snapped back, strangely defensive over his creation.

“What are you, a vampire? Garlic makes everything better.”

“I think I know how to make carbonara with the appropriate amount of garlic, thank you very much.”

“I think you don’t, that’s why you’re a student and not the teacher up there. Mr. Cullen.”

You waited for him to come back with another anti-garlic remark, but he paused once more, lips curling in amusement “You’re funny” he said at last. 

“I’m.. What?” 

“You’re funny” he repeated and you watched in confusion as he added more garlic to his recipe “and in respect to that, I will follow your advice if only to prove you are wrong.”

“Well, then at least add some butter while you’re at it.”

“Now you’re just being sacrilegious”.

You raised your hands in fake surrender. “It’s your carbonara’s funeral, man.”

Jun huffed and turned away from you, seemingly offended with your suggestion, but once you looked back at your station he furtively added a square of butter to his mixture.

The rest of the class passed in relative silence as you made no other attempt to talk to him, focused on your own recipe. When the allotted time ended and the teacher called out the final instructions, you turned back to the handsome man next to you and extended a fork. 

“Well” you said “truth time”.

He scoffed but accepted the cutlery anyway, blowing carefully at the portion he picked before tasting it. You watched with barely concealed satisfaction as his eyes widened and his cheeks puffed in a chipmunk-like manner. 

“Oh my God” he moaned behind the hand covering his full mouth.

“Any good, Nosferato?”

“I bow to thee, this is amazing.” He reached for your plate “Do you mind?” he grabbed a forkful before you could answer “Jesus, this is even better! What’s your secret?”

“A magician never reveals their tricks.”

There were no tricks. You actually just followed the recipe, so you weren’t quite sure what you could’ve done that would invoke that sort of reaction, but  you were not about to admit that.

“That’s fair” he took yet another bit of your carbonara, uncaringly ignoring your funny looks. “This is so good!”

In the end, Jin ate most of your carbonara while you watched him devour your plate with a pleasurable carefree abandon, humming in delight with his cheeks full. 

You hadn’t been able to openly enjoy food like that since you were a kid, so in that moment you allowed yourself to live vicariously through him. There was so much joy in his eyes as he chewed your stolen food that it reminded you that this was what culinary was about: not a number on a package or a trigger, but an intrinsic part of society, of community building and cultural history. Food was made to be savored and shared.

And although you didn’t necessarily share your food with Jin, he seemed to be savoring it enough for the both of you.

As usual, the teacher went around the room trying out bites from each pan, delivering gentle feedback when needed. When she stopped by your table, reaching for the little piece left in your plate after Jin’s attack, she showered you with compliments and was promptly followed by Jin’s hearty applause, leaving you red and embarrassed while Naomi wiggle her eyebrows suggestively.

As soon as Robin dismissed the class, you ran for the door with your things awkwardly gathered in your arms, avoiding the praises of your peers. You still had a hard time dealing with attention and it did not matter if it was positive or not.

“Y/N!” someone called. You turned as Jin caught up with you, his unfairly long legs reaching you in only a couple strides.

“If you’re here to steal anymore of my food, you’re out of luck.” 

Jin had the decency to look a bit embarrassed, but not at all regretful “Sorry about that!” he said, not at all sorry, with sauce still on the corners of his full lips “Let me make it up to you. What are you doing this friday?”

That Friday you had unchangeable plans to rot in bed until 12 and then yell at Jungkook in the afternoon until the phrase “leave me the fuck alone” was finally processed by what seemed to be a very tiny brain inside his head full of hair and stubborness. But Jin didn’t have to know that. 

“Why?” 

“Let me take you out. I swear I’ll let you eat your own food this time.”

You frowned in confusion. “You don’t have to buy me food just because you ate mine. I have food at home, you know.”

“Oh, it’s not because I feel bad. I don’t feel bad at all.” clearly, if his smile was anything to go by “But I like a woman who can cook, especially if she cooks just as well as I do. Let me take you on a date.”

I like a woman who cooks, I like a woman with an appetite…All sorts of bullshit you had heard before. What people meant is that they liked skinny girls who ate McDonalds and boasted about how they never seemed to gain weight, no matter how hard they tried. They meant they liked fast metabolism and fried chicken, not hormonal-based weight gain and complicated Italian cuisine. 

You were not falling for that again.

“Not interested. Thank you.” you answered, before walking off.

Jin blinked. “I’m sorry?” 

“No need to apologize. Have a good day” you replied already from a distance, before turning a corner and leaving a flabbergasted Jin behind. 

***

Jin had never been rejected before.

Technically he did get rejected by the cheer squad in his high school for being as flexible as a ruler, but he looked so good in the uniform that they still asked him to be in the yearbook picture, so he didn’t really count that. 

But rejected by a woman? Nope. Never. Nunca! 

It was oddly unsettling, he thought later that day, haunted by the taste of the carbonara he ate that made every other meal seem bland. He didn’t quite know what to do with the information, other than to contemplate its possible reasons. Why would you reject him? Was it because of the garlic thing? He could think of no other reason! 

Should he learn from it and become a better version of himself? Was there such a thing? He had no answers, only more questions. 

He did really like you as well, not only your cooking. He enjoyed your quick responses and that tiny fire behind your pretty eyes, even if it seemed to be furiously directed at him. Actually, he kind of liked that even better. 

“Jungkook” he called his youngest roomate, who had been playing video games on the living room console while stealing furtive glances at his phone. “You’ve been rejected before, right?”

Jungkook frowned. “No?”

“Aren’t you being rejected right now by that girl from your class?”

“What do you want, hyung?” the younger man growled. 

“Jeez, I can see why that poor woman rejected you if that’s your attitude.” Jungkook seemed ready to throw his control at him “How does one deal with being rejected? I ask this for purely academic reasons. I have, as you know, never been rejected.”

“Right.” Jungkook rolled his eyes “I don’t know, hyung. I guess you just accept it and move on.”

“Did you accept it and move on?”

Another furtive glance at his silent phone. “No.”

“So what are you doing to change this girl’s mind? Besides annoying her, of course.”

This time, Jungkook did throw a pillow at him. “Fuck off, okay? We are meeting on Friday again and then you’ll see. I’ll change her mind. I got a whole thing planned.”

“What constitutes a whole thing?”

“You know… The stuff that girls like.”

Jin blinked.

So did Jungkook.

Silence reigned. 

“You know, gifts.” Jungkook finished smartly.

“Gifts, of course!” Jin snapped his fingers “Maybe flowers! Women love flowers, don’t they?”

Jungkook smiled slightly, thinking of your reaction when receiving the bouquet he almost got hit by a car trying to acquire. “Yes, they do. Red daisies especially.”

 “Yes, yes, red daisies, so creative! Thank you, my friend! I hope you have more luck with your lady and she stops dodging your calls like a collector.”

“Fuck off!” Jungkook said once more, but Jin had already floated out the room with a new plan. 

Jin had never been rejected and he was not about to start now.

And so the next day when you arrived at the bistro, your station was waiting for you with a big bouquet of red daisies and no room to cook, only a new plate of carbonara and a smiling Jin.

°•. ✿ .•°

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[happybunny999]

(Dangerous monster!) Neglected Omnipotent fem reader x Yandere Batfam

Part 2

-

Waking up was both a blessing and a curse because of the fact that someone was waiting for me at the school but also the thought of seen your so called family down stairs in the kitchen eating breakfast so you got up early and got dressed quickly and made your way down stairs and saw Alfred already in the kitchen marking breakfast the smell of eggs and pancakes is like heaven as you got closer to the kitchen

“Hay Alfred how are you” comes your timid and tiredly voice as he slowly turns to give you a warm smile that made you feel just a little better about today since Alfred was always kind to you and even gave you candy sometimes due to your love for sweets

“Hello master (name) good to see that your up before anyone else to eat your breakfast so you have time to get your stuff ready for school” Alfred calmly says as he places a plate of eggs,pancakes and toast in front of you and you give him a small smile as you start eating

As you were eating you hear someone coming down the stairs and you use your powers to see who it is and you groan in frustration and tiredly when you saw that it was Damien so you just continue to eat your food and try to ignore him and just quickly finish and get your backpack

Damien glared at you has he sat down at the table and you can tell that he’s ready to criticize you just by reading his mind just as Alfred placed his food in front of him

The silence tension that followed is hard to shake off but you just finished eating and clean your plate before running back upstairs to your room and grab your bag and quickly leave the manor and run down the street to Gotham high school

As you get closer to the school gate you caught sight of other teenagers walking to the school in their expansive cars and good looking clothes and you couldn’t help but groan with envy and awkwardness at how the other kids look to how you look with your casual and mundane clothes (thanks to your poor excuse of a father Bruce Wayne)

But just as your mind wonders to the back of your head you hear a familiar voice that always made your heart flutter,feel safe, and loved extremely deeply

“Hay! (name) wait up!”

You slowly turn around and once you did your pink and blue eyes met beautiful green ones of a handsome tan skinned boy with brown hair in a green and white jacket with the number 10 on his left chest, black shirt,dark blue pants while wearing a green,black and white device on his hand

You smiled as he makes his way to you the happy look on his face almost made you almost ferget the troubles you have to deal with like your family,your bullies and the sad thoughts in your head but it almost goes away when you look into those eyes

“Hay…Ben nice to see you” you say your voice laced with the stressed of what’s to come and timidly when you look at your boyfriend gorgeous and kind eyes

Once he had gotten close enough to you he pulls you into a warm and loving embrace against his bulky chest and you realize that over the years since you’ve met him back in middle school he had changed a lot from a skinny boy to a attractive bulky boy who had always been in love with you from day one

Ben was persistent and never given up on you or leaving you behind/alone always protecting you and defending you from bullies to comforting you during your breakdown about how your family had never loved you at all Ben was there to hold you tight and make you feel like you were loved by someone

Tho you loved that he was overprotective of you and always came to your aid when you needed him the most he was there

And you love him so much for that

“Hay sweetheart I’m so glad I got to catch up with you before class starts. I wanted to see your beautiful face before the day started” he said as he places a lovely kiss to your lips and you lean in close to him as you close your eyes and savor the moment

But the moment was ruined when once the school bell rings signals the start of school and you had to stop yourself from making a pouting face as Ben pulls away from the kiss also not happy about the interruption but pulled away nonetheless

“Well that’s the bell I guess we should head to class now sweetheart” Ben told you as he takes your hand in his hand as he starts walking towards our classes as you give him a gentle smile and let him lead you

As you two walked to class you failed to notice the eyes of someone watching you with a scowl on their face and was about the walk off but not before making a call to someone

-

Ben and I walked to your first class which was math(I hated it even tho I exceeded expectations and was ahead of my class mates) as I walked into the room with Ben I could feel that there was a tension in the room and how some heads glare at me which left me confused and cause me hold Ben’s hand a little tighter to which he noticed and gave a smile of support while he glared back at the others just as we took our seats

Just as class had started and the teacher was taking role the glares where getting harder to ignore and you try to focus on the teacher or on Ben but there was a knot in my throat when the teacher says that there will be new students in our class from now on

As the teacher finished calling out role he walked to the classroom door and said with enthusiasm and anxiety as he called out the new students

“Listen class I like you to meet our new students and their dad, Tim drake-Wayne, Damien Al Gaul-Wayne and their father Bruce Wayne!” Those words almost causes me to jump from my seat and yell (what!) but Ben grabs my hand quickly and puts a concerned hand on my shoulder as if to say (keep calm I got you)

As the teacher and the whole room clapped for the three with excitement but I could feel my hands shaking and and my breath going hollow as I narrower my eyes at them but tried to hide it

I look over at Ben and he had a glare on his face too when looking at your ‘family’ and held my hand tighter at an attempt to protect me from whatever they are up to.

After they introduced themselves to the class and started talking about Wayne enterprise and other stuff that didn’t catch my interest at all but what did was they was Damian and Tim stared at me with a look I didn’t understand because they had already look at me with hatred,disgust and finally annoys but there was a know kind of look behind their gaze something more sinister and dark that made you uncomfortable and causes my powers to be on high alert

-

After a while class finished when everything was done and I made my way to lunch where I saw Ben already in our favorite sit where we eat during lunch and it made me smile as I sat close to him and lean my head into his shoulder and for a moment everything seemed to fade away and it felt good but of course it just had to be ruined when me and Ben noticed that the lunchroom went quiet for a moment and once I turned my head to find out what was happening that when I saw it and I wished it didn’t

There walking into the room were Damien, Tim, and Bruce in their expansive suits and the commanding glares that is the only thing that could silence a room full of bratty and selfish teenagers

The scanned the room for someone and once their gaze lands on me and Ben I had to hold back the feeling of my eyes changing color of crimson red and the way my hands glow with anger as small yellow lightning sparks appear around me

But just before anything could happen a hand quickly grabbed mine gently and firmly as the other pulls my close to a warm chest Ben had thought fast when he saw that I was getting upset and so he quickly calmed me down before the three could see and know about my powers

“Sweetheart please calm down is ok I’m right here” Ben spoke in his calm voice when I always get upset when it comes to my family but I didn’t miss the frustration in his tone seeing the Wayne’s faces here

Bruce,Damien,and Tim walked over and sat at the table opposite of us giving them a clear view of me and Ben and close enough to hear what we are saying so I quickly telepathically mind read to Ben begging him to please make a distraction something to lighten the situation

“Hay (name) did you know that their a delicious brand new cake that you love is on sale down the street from the school” Ben asked you trying to lighten the mood and help you take your mind off of the situation while still looking at the three from time to time knowing that they are trying to eavesdrop on our conversation

“Yeah It does and it looks great I hope to be able to buy it soon” I said with a small smile on my face as I looked into Ben’s eyes and almost forgot about your family for a moment and even ignoring the stare from Tim the glare of Damien and the cold and silent gaze of your father Bruce just for the one moment

As lunch dragged on me and Ben continued to talk and hold hands and when it came to an end by the sound of the bell signaling the end of lunch just as everyone started to clean up and get ready to leave

Ben gave me a kiss on the head before leaving to go to class as I waved to him and quickly walked out of the room avoiding the looks from my father and brothers if I can even call them that

-

As school soon ended after the class were finished Ben and I held hands outside of the front of the school just as teenagers were leaving to go home in their parents fancy car and bikes

“I am go glad that school is over I am so tired ugh” Ben groaned tired and glad that the day is over as he looked at me with love in his eyes and giving me a loving and gentle kiss on the lips that made my heart melt with joy

“Well looks like we got some homework to do tonight which is so boring. I hope you have a good afternoon sweetheart see you tomorrow” Ben says as he gets on his bike and leaves as I wave to him goodbye

Just as I was about to leave as well but was stopped when someone calls out to me and once to hear who it was my blood run’s cold when I see that it was Bruce he had a cold and angry glare on his face and I swear I could see his vains thought his skin

“Your not riding back on bike (name) get in the car we are taking you back to the manor. We need to talk”

I wanted to argue and yell back No but I did want to risk it with my powers so I just agreed and took my bike with me into the car as the car started and I know that it was going to get worse from here just from the glares I received from Tim and Damien only confirmed my thoughts even more.









[wheeboo]

paging dr. heartthrob | lee chan {TEASER}

SYNOPSIS. You can’t afford to be burnt out, especially during a crucial era of your life: being in medical school. Enter your best friend—a boy with a tough-looking exterior, a skateboard that’s seen better days, and a heart softer than his beat-up converse—Lee Chan, with his backpack full of snacks, and an uncanny ability to show up exactly when you need him most. He may not be a doctor, nor exactly your therapist, but he certainly is a heartthrob, and your heart can’t help but always page him. PAIRING. skater boy!lee chan x med student!reader (ft. lowkey stoner!vernon, med student!jeonghan, med student!joshua, soonyoung) GENRE. fluff, childhood best friends to lovers, angst, suggestive, hurt/comfort, college au WARNINGS (FOR THE TEASER). swearing, vaping and mention of weed, just silly banter between two "best friends" <3 WARNINGS (FOR FULL FIC). swearing, food and drinking mentions, suggestive, drug use (weed & vaping), so much fucking mutual pining!!!, reader is quite literally me so self-indulgent maybe?, reader is an overthinking anxious burnt-out mess :((, chan has a mullet, piercings, and tattoos yes (re: cough attacca dino cough), chan is a self-critical perfectionist oof, vague descriptions of minor injuries, mental health topics, medical terminology language, a scene of a panic attack WORD COUNT (FOR THE TEASER). 1.3k WORD COUNT (FOR FULL FIC). approx 20-25k

notes: hello, my little flowers! this is my teaser for the @camandemstudios "the lonely heart's cafe" collab <3. I'VE BEEN BLESSED TO FINALLY WRITE FOR LEE CHAN‼️if you would like to be tagged when this fic comes out, please send an ask or comment down below! sign up for the taglist for the entire collab here! please send all your love to the other authors who are participating in this as well !!

“You’re late,” he calls out, kicking the skateboard up into his hands and jogging over to meet you.

You roll your eyes but can’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. “Blame my neuro attending. That man has the stamina of a marathon runner and the patience of a saint. Could rival Derek Shepherd, to be honest. I think I aged ten years today.” You set your bag down on the floor next to a nearby bench. “You didn’t wait long, did you?”

“Nah, not that long. You actually came before Vernon𑁋he left his vape here,” Chan says while fishing the vape out of his pocket and taking a shameless hit from it, a cloud of vapour floating into the air when he exhales, before offering it to you with a teasing grin. “Want a hit?”

You scrunch your nose, shaking your head with a laugh. “Offering me, a med student, that shit is crazy. My lungs are precious thank you, unlike you and Vernon.”

“Tell that to those bozos.” He points to the noisy teenagers at the other side of the park, before sitting right next to you on the bench. “Can’t even roll over there without getting smacked in the face with weed.”

Your smile falters just slightly as you watch him lean back, his face tilting towards the darkening sky. The dim light of the streetlamps catches on the curve of his jaw, the slope of his nose, the relaxed purse of his lips, and highlights the dragon tattoo that snakes up his arm. He looks... peaceful. Content. Like the world isn’t asking too much from him tonight, like there’s no weight of expectations pressing on his shoulders, unlike you.

“I messed up today during clinicals,” You randomly confess, making Chan turn toward you. “There was this patient today… a girl. Seventeen years old, has a tumour that’s basically about to split her brain in half. I kept arguing with my attending about treatments, and I was so sure I was right𑁋that we could do something more about it𑁋but in the end, I just... made it worse. I felt like such an idiot, because… because there wasn’t anything we could do. She only has one chance with surgery, and she took it, despite her low chances of surviving.”

Chan listens to you, his eyes gentle and thoughtful, understanding but not pitying. It’s the same way he used to listen when you were venting back in high school, always patient, never rushing you to fix yourself or your emotions.

“You’re not an idiot,” he tells you, but his tone is nothing like a scold. “You care. That’s the difference. Not everyone would have fought that hard for her, even if you didn’t win. You’ve got a heart the size of the ocean, dude, you know?” 

You smile faintly, chest tightening a little to his words. “The mother-fucking ocean?”

Chan grins at your lightheartedness, nudging you with his elbow. “Yeah, the mother-fucking ocean. You’re stubborn as hell, but you’ve got that heart. And that’s what makes you good at what you do. It’s what makes you you.”

You look down almost in guilt from his words, watching as you unconsciously play with your fingers in your lap. You don’t know why, but it hits harder than usual tonight, and for the briefest moment, you feel the rush of everything you’ve been holding back𑁋the exhaustion, the frustration, the feeling that you’ve been carrying more than your fair share of weight these days. They almost threaten to burst out of you, but right now, they don’t. Not yet at least.

“You’re gonna be a good doctor, you know?” Chan continues. “I don’t even have to be a doctor to know that. You just… you get it. You’re going to go out there and do great things. Maybe even better things than me.”

You almost want to laugh at that, almost want to tell Chan just how much shit he’s done that is far greater than what you could ever dream of. You’re not sure if he realises it himself𑁋how great he is, how much you admire him, love him𑁋but you think you could spend more than a lifetime telling him just that if you could. 

You feel your heart do that familiar flip again, but this time, you let it pass. Maybe you’ve been avoiding these feelings for too long, but the truth is, they’ve been there for as long as you can remember. You can’t exactly pinpoint the moment these feelings shifted from friendship to something more𑁋maybe it was when he helped you get through the first few years of high school, or when he held your hand during a school dance, not in some romantic gesture but because you were scared of your anxiety acting up𑁋but it’s always been there. He’s always been there. 

“I… Thank you, Chan,” You say softly. Then you tilt your head back, looking at the same sky he is, feeling the heaviness in your chest ease just a little. “You’re kind of annoying, you know that? But you’re also... you’re really great yourself. Like, better-than-I-deserve great.”

Chan just chuckles at that. He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, turning his head slightly to look at you. “That’s probably the dumbest thing you’ve ever said, and I’ve heard a lot of dumb shit from you.”

“Wow, okay. Forget all that I said then,” You retort back playfully, shaking your head and crossing your arms together. “You’re the worst person alive, actually.”

When you’re busy gazing up at the sky above, Chan turns to you. His eyes flit over you, taking in the way your eyelashes slowly bat together from tiredness, how your lips are slightly curled up in relaxation, how your features glow from the singular street lamp illuminating the skate park. He doesn’t say anything for a moment, and glances away, his thoughts racing faster than he can keep up with.

“You meant it though, right?” he asks.

“What?” You question, turning towards him. 

“About me being great or whatever.” You can tell he’s trying to brush off the hesitation, but you sense the uncertainty in his voice. “You meant it?”

Out of all times, you wonder why he’s questioning it right now at almost midnight in the middle of the skate park. You’ve told him countless times how great he is, always hyping him up for skate competitions and giving him comfort on the times he’s down himself. Why… is he suddenly asking if you meant it?

“Well, I… Of course, I meant it,” You respond, catching his eye. “Why wouldn’t I?”

For a few moments, there’s just silence, comfortable, a pinch of awkward𑁋a word you can pretty much never associate with your interactions together𑁋yet heavy. The way Chan’s features soften on his face from your words seem more important than the stars blinking up in the sky right now. 

Then all it takes is a tiny giggle from him, and you can’t help but groan.

“Oh no,” You grumble pesteringly, shooting him an exasperated glance, but your tone is light, teasing. “I fueled your ego now, didn’t I?” 

“Yep. I can walk around like I’m the best thing since sliced bread,” Chan jokes, puffing out his chest with pride. “My greatness has been confirmed by a certified medical professional.”

“Whatever, big head,” You sneer back playfully. 

Chan stretches out a bit more on the bench, his legs extending and his arms behind his head. You can tell he’s getting more comfortable too, probably ready to call it a night, just like you, and you can’t help but let yourself soften a little.

Without thinking, you shift your body and lean your head down and gently rest it in Chan’s lap. His body stiffens for a moment as if he wasn’t expecting it, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he lets you settle, and after a beat, his hand comes to gently rest in your hair, and something tugs at your heartstrings from the feeling. Your eyes slowly flutter to a close.

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[ichorai]

weave ; coriolanus snow.

pairing ; young!coriolanus snow x capitol!reader (gender-neutral)

synopsis ; there was a rose in his hand, you realized. white, just like the one he gave to you when he first met your parents. but it wasn’t for you, since he had yet to hand it over— you figured it was for lucy gray. you would’ve thought it was sweet of him, if only you hadn’t been aware of his motivations to gain her trust. still, you’d be a hypocrite if you criticized him for it. you’d also brought something for your tribute.

words ; 6.8k

themes ; mild fluff/angst, action

warnings / includes ; themes of classism, violence/injury, lucky flickerman is a close family friend of reader's, coryo's paranoia, he's not exactly toxic yet but the seeds are very much planted, i tried to keep him in character as best i could </3

a/n ; there will be a fourth part loosely following the events of the movie (obv tweaked for the fic!)

series masterlist. main masterlist.

It was humiliating, how nervous he was. Reaping day. The Plinth prize was just a whisper away—he could nearly taste it: phantom traces of rich chocolate and edible gold on his dry tongue.

The day before the exams, you’d pulled him into the library for one last study session. You whispered that you would botch one of your papers for him—he certainly needed the Plinth prize more than you. And though he knew that you’d be far more deserving of it (your grades were near impeccable, and impossible for him to try and compete with), he also knew that his pride wouldn’t ever recover from such a blow.

Because how could he face you after that? Knowing that he was… inferior?

And so he told you not to squander your own achievements for him—that he’d figure something out. You spared him a hesitant look, before turning back to your books. 

Now that the exams were over and done with, Coriolanus briefly wondered if you went ahead and botched it anyway. An irrational sort of anger flared within his chest. Did you think you were better than him? That he was your charity case?

But all those terrible thoughts—the nastiness sweltering in his chest for days after the exams—dissolved almost immediately after seeing you. 

You met him in front of the academy, your dress a lovely shade of crimson, angular at your shoulders but tapering down into flowing ripples below your waist. Like fire, almost. You were glowing, he was sure of it, with the way the sun illuminated only the best of your features—the slope of your nose, the curling of your lips, the glimmer in your eyes. 

“Coriolanus,” you greeted with faux formality, tilting your head to the side. He was wearing his dress shirt again—the very one you watched Tigris mend and sew and tinker many, many times. Pinned to his waistcoat was another red rose, matching the shade of your own attire. 

He mirrored you, sweeping into a low bow and brandishing another rose out of seemingly nowhere. “For you, darling. Grandma’am said she could spare it—special occasion and all.”

“Oh, don’t call me that,” you said, rolling your eyes at the ridiculous pet name. It was what your parents called each other when they thought nobody was around to hear it—it made you feel old. “And tell Grandma’am thank you. It’s beautiful.”

He smiled, stepping forward to slot the rose behind your ear. “Ready for your Plinth prize?” he asked, fingers lingering by your face, thumb stroking down your jaw.

You sucked in a breath. “I don’t think it’s going to be what either of us expect.” 

There was a brief pause. Coriolanus’ eyes narrowed. Had you botched your exams for him? 

With a pointed glance to the academy halls, you nudged him forward. “Come on. Everyone’s already inside. Clemmie keeps asking for you.”

The two of you made your way in, weaving between red-uniformed academy students (the ones who weren’t at the very top) and professors. Behind another set of double doors were where all the top-ranking students were mingling. Sipping on bubbling glasses of colorful drinks, picking off delicate foods from ceramic plates. 

While Snow was stolen away from you by a few other classmate acquaintances, Sejanus was the first to greet you, shaking your hand enthusiastically. His palms were sweating. You didn’t quite mind. “Congratulations on finishing exams, Y/N. I know how hard you’ve been studying.”

You flashed him a genuine smile. “Congrats to you, too. I’m surprised you’re here at all, actually. I know how you feel about the reaping.”

His expression faltered. “Ma made me come. Moral support for my friends, and all.”

Ma. The word sounded foreign and heavy on the tongue. Unfamiliar… but rather inviting. Homely, in a way. Despite your initial silence, you managed to recover just fine. In a lowered voice, you whispered to him, “Well, my mother thinks it’s a rather dreadful affair. A waste of potential talent, sending children to their deaths, she says. I can’t help but agree with her. Father thinks it’s necessary, though.”

Sejanus pursed his lips. No doubt questioning the necessity of watching the people he knew from his childhood in the district getting brutally murdered. It looked like he was going to say something else, but before he could, Arachne’s high-pitched voice cut through the two of you. You grimaced, catching Coriolanus’ eyes as he stood right behind her. Judging by his mildly annoyed countenance, he wasn’t having a very good time chatting to her, either.

“Spill it, Sejanus,” she demanded in a prissy tone. “Who won the prize?”

The dark curls on Sejanus’ head shook as he silently scoffed. “Oh, no, I’m not going to ruin my father’s big day. No one here actually likes him but they do love his money… you know what that’s like, don’t you, Arachne?”

Her nose wrinkled in part-contempt, part-disgust. “Funny,” she deadpanned. 

Coriolanus stepped around her so he could curl an arm over your waist. “We all know who’s going to win it, anyway.” His grip squeezed over the smooth fabric of your dress. 

Arachne rolled her eyes and marched away, off to find someone else to bother. 

Left with just the two of you, Sejanus dipped his head and muttered, “Look, I know you guys have had high hopes for this but… there’s no prize. Not anymore.”

There was a terse pause. Your head reared back incredulously, searching Sejanus’ expression for any signs of fibbing. Then you looked to Coriolanus, eyes wide. 

“What?” he asked, words sharp, looking almost offended.

“I’m so sorry—”

Before Sejanus could finish his sentence, loud trumpets echoed throughout the hall and all the students began making their way to the plush velvet seats laid out in front of the podium. Coriolanus’ hand slipped away from you, balling into a tight, pale fist. You sat down first, Sejanus going on your right, Coriolanus to your left. Clemensia was on his other side, flashing you an attractive smile. You couldn’t find it in you to smile back.

If there was no prize, what were they going to dole out instead? A free holiday, all expenses paid? A new television? A pair of fuzzy socks?

Your rather prickly thoughts were interrupted when a woman stepped up behind the podium. She was dressed in lavish plum robes, intricate beige patterns weaving through the threads. From afar, it looked like there was flesh stitched onto the fabric. Her hair was greyed and a calculated sort of haphazard. One of her eyes was beady and blue, the other dark and large, almost eclipsing any of the white bits. 

She tapped the microphone once, earning herself a buzz of feedback, and tittered with unnerving laughter. Volumnia Gaul was what she introduced herself as. Her voice was low and gravelly. When she went on to say that she was the head gamemaker, your and Coriolanus' heads both snapped to Sejanus, but his gaze was fixed onto the ground, face grim.

After a bit more faddering about the future, Dr. Gaul introduced the creator of the games and dean of the academy—Casca Highbottom. He sauntered forward from somewhere within the seats, mind very clearly addled with a drug of some sorts. Morphling, you’d wager.

“I can’t believe they still allow him to speak in public,” Clemensia said to Coriolanus amusedly. He didn’t spare her a response.

He dragged on his little speech, as if he took pleasure in dangling the golden carrot in front of the donkey. Your hands twitched in an antsy fashion, and you neatly folded them over your lap.

“My own twenty-four top prospects. All waiting to hear the results of your hard studying in this prestigious institution, eager to know who’s won that Plinth prize, no doubt. And a golden future, with it.” He catered forward with a slurred laugh. “However… I’m here to tell you all that there’s been a change this year.”

Murmurs rippled throughout the crowd. Coriolanus’ chin lifted higher, back straightening.

“One last assignment to prove your worth,” Highbottom continued on. He began to pace back and forth, reminiscent to that of a caged tiger. “The esteemed citizens of the Capitol simply aren’t watching anymore. And if the games are to continue at all, there must be an audience, no?”

More murmuring. Your eyes narrowed. Twenty-four top students… twenty-four tributes… 

Oh, no.

You sucked in a quiet, barely noticeable inhale with the realization. It was enough for Coriolanus’ eyes to land on you, but you were staring at Sejanus, as if trying to get him to hear your thoughts. 

Tell me it isn’t true. Tell me we won’t have to play a hand in such a barbaric game.

“Head gamemaker Dr. Gaul has stepped in to… incentivize patriotic values with her own unique flair, starting with you. The Plinth prize will no longer be determined by who has the best grades.” 

For a moment, Highbottom’s gaze drifted over to you. Somewhere behind you, you could hear Arachne’s affronted, “Excuse me?”

You weren’t quite sure why she was upset. It’s not like she had a chance with the prize if it were grade-based.

“Instead, it will be decided by who is the best mentor in the hunger games.”

Your jaw clenched. Clemensia appeared bewildered. Coriolanus looked shaken. Sejanus was visibly distraught.

“As the reaping begins, I will allocate each one of the top twenty-four Capitol students a district tribute. A figure behind the scenes—one who must persuade them to perform for the cameras.”

This was met by a barrage of questions and protests from the students. Highbottom waved most of them away.

“Your role is to turn these children into spectacles. Not survivors… victory in the games is only one of the considerations. Your entire future rests on this last project.”

It was a terrible thing to imagine. Two dozen district lives in exchange for a bit of cruel entertainment for the Capitol. You were never fond of it, but you kept quiet on the matter because you had the luxury of turning your head away. Turning the television off and straying away from such brutalities. 

But now that you were being forced to look—no, more than that—you were being forced to pull strings, it was altogether a nauseating thought.

“Oh, and I must warn you… anyone caught cheating to give their tributes an unfair advantage…” Highbottom’s spectacled eyes swept over the lot of students. “Well, they’d just have no future at all.”

More trumpets rang throughout the hall. 

The Dean clapped his hands together. “Here we go! Let the reaping ceremony begin!”

Two large screens hanging over the podium lit up for the first district—a tall boy on the left, a sallow-faced girl on the right. Dean Highbottom began to list off student names as mentors. 

To none of your surprise, Sejanus got the male tribute from district two. Coriolanus shot him a thinly-veiled, wry smile over your shoulder. “You got the pick of the litter.”

Sejanus refused to meet his gaze. “You forget… I’m part of the litter.”

On the names rattled—districts three, four, five, six, and seven all passing by in a blur. 

Juno Phipps was called out for district eight’s male tribute. She sat somewhere behind you, and you could hear her puff a sigh of disappointment.

Then your name came straight after. 

Your head snapped from Highbottom to the screen, eyes widening. 

Wovey, her name was. She was a small little thing—you could see her frail, skeletal figure even through a grainy screen from afar. The striped dress she wore was patchy and frayed, darkened with soot and dirt. How old was she? She was probably one of the youngest tributes yet—you’d guess that she was barely thirteen, maybe even twelve. Something in your stomach jolted. Momentarily, you’d forgotten that this little girl was meant to be your school project.

District eight. The textiles sector. You blinked at the screen and shifted uncomfortably in your expensive-tailored dress—a dress that very likely came from the very same district. 

Highbottom called out names for the next district. Clemensia was pleased with her large, burly tribute from the eleventh district. Coriolanus was yet to be mentioned. You glanced over at him, before reaching out to take his hand. He didn’t look at you, but squeezed your palm in what you read to be silent gratitude.

And finally—with only one tribute left, Highbottom coughed out what sounded to be a laugh. “The runt girl from district twelve… she belongs to Coriolanus Snow.”

The grip he had on your hand tightened until it was bordering on painful. You said nothing about it. Highbottom had always been a grouchy man, but he seemed to have a fixation on making Coriolanus’ life as tormentable as possible. 

Lucy Gray Baird.

You watched the screen in fascination when a woman sauntered out from the ranks. Her hair was dark and curly, unruly in a way that suited her perfectly. Upon further scrutiny, you noticed small wildflowers woven through the strands, limp with time. She wore makeup, which wasn’t something you often saw in tributes. A deep blue eyeshadow and slightly-smudged rouge on her cheeks and lips. But what really caught your attention, however, was the dress she was wearing. It was a startling contrast to her name—with its bright, colorful ruffles on her skirt, the front of her corset bearing lovely details of flowers and vines. 

She was beautiful.

“What is that dress?” sneered Arachne, in an obvious attempt to rile Coriolanus up. “Is she some sort of clown?”

But suddenly, Lucy Gray stepped out of her path towards the stage and grabbed a girl to her right. Or, more accurately, the girl’s collar. She promptly dropped something down her dress and hurried off. Screams erupted from the screen as the girl writhed with terror, screaming for someone to, “Get it out! Get it out!”

Coriolanus stood abruptly, letting your hand go. You hadn’t noticed just how much feeling you’d lost in your arm, and gingerly shook it back to life.

The grainy screen showed a small snake skitter out of the bottom of her dress. 

When Lucy Gray finally made it up on the stage, she was harshly struck across the face by district twelve’s mayor. The blow made her head crack to the side and she went tumbling down. You frowned, but couldn’t take your eyes away. 

It took two peacekeepers to haul the furious mayor away. You mutely realized that the girl was the mayor’s daughter. 

Lucy Gray laid there, face aching. 

And then—singing. A small voice from within the crowd. Five seconds later, another joined. And another, and another. Even through the screen, when Lucy Gray tilted her bruised face up and struggled back onto her feet, you could see the pain in her eyes. Was that her family singing for her?

The woman made her way to the microphone. She began to sing with a quivering lip. Her voice was soft and smooth, silken to your ears.

“She’s singing?” Arachne commented in a pinched tone. “Is she out of her mind?”

“Shut up, Arachne,” you turned to snap at her. She made a strangled noise in the back of her throat, but didn’t say anything else, to your relief.

Coriolanus watched the screen with unsettled eyes. A million thoughts rushed through his mind at once. Most unpleasant, many rageful, some curious. 

And to bring her singing to a sudden halt, Lucy Gray screamed into the microphone. 

“YOU CAN KISS MY ASS!” 

The students burst into laughter, incredulous gasps, and scandalized murmurs. Coriolanus glanced around. He met your eyes, and you gave him half an amused smile. His tribute knew how to put on a show, that was for sure. 

He smiled back, and turned to the screen once more.

Lucy Gray lowered herself into a deep bow for the audience. District and Capitol alike. 

What an intriguing girl, you thought.

“She’s mentally ill,” Arachne buzzed. 

It took every bit of your willpower not to turn around and strike her across the face. But you thought back to the furious mayor, and of the little girl you were supposed to mentor, and kept your hands folded neatly over your lap.

You found yourself at the Snow penthouse that night. There was nothing to study, not anymore, so you lounged on a rickety chair and watched Tigris sew together pieces of blue fabric. She wanted to make you a dress, and though you had more than enough of your own, you couldn’t ever say no to her. Being around her took your mind off of the games, even for just a few minutes.

Coriolanus, however, was pacing back and forth in front of the two of you. Muttering angrily under his breath, nose twitching with disdain.

“He’s sabotaging us. That girl’s never going to win the games,” he hissed, plucking the rose off of his waistcoat and tugging at its petals. They fluttered down to the floor. “You saw her, didn’t you? She’s underfed. Unstable.”

Pot, meet kettle. 

You pursed your lips. “Highbottom said you’re meant to make a performance out of them. It isn’t just about winning.”

“Everything is about winning!” he asserted, carding a frustrated hand through his flaxen tresses. “If not the games, then the crowd. And Lucy Gray won’t survive a minute inside that arena.”

You sighed. Little Wovey didn’t seem too likely to survive, either. She wasn’t a fighter by any means. Maybe she was a fast runner? 

“So that means we have to make every second before then count.” Coriolanus reached out to cup your face, and you leaned into his touch, kissing his palm. Tigris shot the two of you a side glance and smiled to herself.

“What’re you planning?” you asked. 

“I’ll make her sing again,” he said, sounding so sure of himself.

This made Tigris’ brows cinch together. “I wouldn’t sing a note for you if I was her. I wouldn’t do anything at all… not unless I knew I could trust you.”

Coriolanus regarded his cousin with a cynical stare. “She’s district, Tigris. She knows we hate her and she wants us dead. How am I supposed to get her to trust me?”

“We?” you echoed, shaking your head. “I don’t hate her. I don’t even know her. Do you?”

“I—”

You lifted up a hand, effectively cutting him off. “Do you know her, Coriolanus?”

His jaw set with a click. You had your answer.

“How can you hate someone you don’t know? Look, you don’t have to like her. Just convince her that you do.” You crossed your arms, thinking of the little girl you were meant to mentor. It was going to be hard to like her, anyway, knowing that she was going to die soon. You wouldn’t let yourself get attached.

Tigris nodded emphatically. She paused her needlework and looked up at her cousin. “Imagine it was your name they pulled, and you were ripped from your home. I’d just want to know if somebody still cared about me out here. Don’t discount her just because she’s district, Coryo. You might have more in common with her than you think.”

Coriolanus plucked the last rose petal from the stem. You watched him with soft eyes, before drawing yourself up to your feet. 

“I think it’s time I head home. My family’s got dinner with the Flickermans tomorrow.” You placed a limp hand on his jaw and kissed his cheek, then drifted down to kiss his shoulder. He smelled distinctly of roses—a fresh sort of musk.

Just as you were about to pull away, he rested his hands on your forearms, rooting you to the same spot. “We should greet them at the station. Show them that they can trust us.”

You searched his face for genuinity. It wasn’t an entirely terrible idea.

“You sure?” you asked. It wasn’t a secret just how uncomfortable Coriolanus was around district folk.

“Yeah. We can… get ahead of the other students. You’re way more approachable than me, anyway. Maybe they’ll like you more,” Snow offered. A part of you wondered what he’d do if you said no. 

The thought of meeting your assigned tribute made your stomach do somersaults. Finally, you nodded. “Okay. I’ll meet you at the station, then?” 

Snow smiled in a charming manner. He dipped forward to slant his lips over yours, and you melted into his touch, almost forgetting that Tigris was there��until she made a noise of disgust and told the two of you, “Eugh! Do that somewhere else, please!”

Coriolanus was there before you, sticking out like a sore thumb in his academy red against the cold, rusted metals of the train cars. You wore a dark coat over your uniform, trying to look a little more discreet. 

“Are they here yet?” you asked, steps quickening to him. He took your hand and squeezed.

“Anytime now.”

The two of you stood shoulder-to-shoulder as you waited, exchanging light conversation. There was a rose in his hand, you realized. White, just like the one he gave to you when he first met your parents. But it wasn’t for you, since he had yet to hand it over— you figured it was for Lucy Gray. You would’ve thought it was sweet of him, if only you hadn’t been aware of his motivations to gain her trust. Still, you’d be a hypocrite if you criticized him for it. You’d also brought something for your tribute. 

A juice box. Grape. Still cold, beading with condensation.

You wondered if they had juice boxes out in district eight.

Another train rolled to a grueling halt to the track on your left. The cars were due for a good scrubbing, you thought. They were absurdly filthy—you weren’t even sure what its original color was meant to be.

Peacekeepers stepped up, disregarding the two of you, and began yanking the doors open. There were disgruntled noises coming from inside, and a few minutes later, the grey soldiers were pulling out the tributes.

You searched through the small crowd frantically. The boy from 11th—Reaper, you recalled his name was—caught your eye and just about snarled. You tried your best to ignore him.

When you found the little girl, little Wovey, you slipped away from Coriolanus and stepped forward. In your peripheral vision, you spotted him moving towards Lucy Gray.

Wovey was staring at a particularly uninteresting spot on the ground. She had her skinny arms wound around her midriff as if she was cold, despite the warm temperature that morning. When your shadow fell over her, her large, tearful eyes slid up to meet yours. 

“Hello, Wovey,” you whispered in what you hoped was a welcoming, not-at-all-intimidating voice. You told her your name, making sure to enunciate the syllables slowly, so she’d have no problem repeating it back. She didn’t, but perhaps she would later. “I’m your mentor.”

“Mender?” Her voice quaked.

“Mentor. I’ll be helping you in the arena, during the game. Here, I have something for you.” You reached inside your coat, eyeing the peacekeepers warily. Either they didn’t notice, or they were just pretending not to. You wondered how many of them knew your father. “Do you guys have juice boxes back where you live?”

You held out the cold little box for her to take. She blinked at it warily.

“It’s grape,” you said.

She reached out and took it from you. You offered her a gentle smile, and she mirrored you with a shy grin. 

“Can I share it?” she croaked. Wovey looked back at the male tribute from the same district—Bobbin. Were they friends?

“Of course, sweetheart,” you said warmly. 

Sweetheart? Where’d that come from?

The peacekeepers began rounding up the tributes, shoving them in the direction of a truck. You dipped your head at one of the grey soldiers as he took Wovey’s arm.

“Be gentle with her,” you told the peacekeeper. He met you with a stoic expression, but nodded once, before urging Wovey onward.

It was hard to tear your eyes away from her, but you forced yourself to do so, bounding towards Coriolanus and—

“Lucy Gray,” you greeted, just before saying your own name as you moved to stand beside Snow. Her dress looked even brighter in person, even if it was caked in filth. “I hope Coriolanus hasn’t scared you off yet.”

“Who’s this?” she asked, her dark eyes flitting from Snow to you. “Another mentor?”

“Mmh. Not yours though. I’m dedicated to the little girl from district eight,” you replied. 

There was something in her eyes that softened. 

“You’ll take care of her?” she asked.

You exchanged an uncertain glance with Coriolanus. “I’ll try my best to. Just like my boyfriend here for you.”

“Boyfriend, huh? Y’all make an attractive couple, that’s for sure.” Lucy Gray smiled, wide and genuine. It faded instantaneously once she spotted a peacekeeper approaching. She plucked the rose from Coriolanus’ unsuspecting hands. “Well… good luck with that.”

The soldier grabbed her by the arm and shoved her into the direction of the car.

Coriolanus stepped forward. “Wait, no—I, hey, I’d like to escort my tribute—”

They all ignored him. You pursed your lips, before following behind two of the soldiers, peeking around the bend. The truck’s doors were wide open for you to slip into. Snow met your eyes when you beckoned him over.

“We can sneak in,” you whispered. “When they’re not looking.”

“Are you insane? We don’t know where they’re going!” he responded in a lowered voice, taking your arm, not unsimilar to how the peacekeepers grabbed the tributes. “I don’t want you getting hurt because of me.”

“They won’t hurt me,” you told him. It didn’t dawn on you that Coriolanus was referring to the district tributes, not the peacekeepers. Quick and chaste, you pressed a kiss to his lips. “You coming?”

A muscle ticked in his jaw. He blew out a frustrated breath, before letting you go and giving you the green light by motioning for you to get a move on. Nerves peaking with adrenaline, you glanced around again, satisfied that no peacekeepers were looking, and rushed into the truck. You felt Coriolanus’ chest brush against your back as he hurried in after you.

You hid in the shadows of the trucks’ slants just as the peacekeepers slammed it shut. A victorious smile stretched your lips thin. You made it.

Oh, your father was going to murder you. Snow first, maybe, and then you. Your mother would probably find the situation all too funny. Though, as you found all the tributes’ eyes locked on you and Coriolanus, you realized that it probably wasn’t funny at all, not in the slightest.

“Hello,” you said in an awfully wavering voice. Coriolanus echoed your sentiment, looking as if he’d seen a ghost.

“What’s the matter, pretty boy?” Reaper asked him with a scowl. “You in the wrong cage?”

“No,” he responded with a minute shrug. “This cage is delightful.”

The truck practically swayed as Reaper stormed closer to him. You instinctively grabbed his forearm, pulling him back. But clearly not quick enough, seeing as Reaper grabbed the lapels of Snow’s academy uniform, shoving him up against the wall with a loud thud. Coriolanus let out an oomf with the impact, blinking sudden white stars out of his vision. 

“I’ll kill you right now!” Reaper hissed. 

“He’ll do it, too,” warned Dill. The girl from his same district. “Reaper killed a peacekeeper back in eleven.”

“I say we kill them both!” another tribute from somewhere behind sneered.

“I’m in. Nothing left to lose now.”

You stood frozen, afraid that one wrong move would send Reaper into a frenzy. Instead, you spoke calm and clear, “We’re here to help.” Your eyes found Lucy Gray’s, then traveled over to Wovey, squeezed in the corner. “We want to help you.”

Crossing her arms, Lucy Gray said, “Y’all got family back home? They’ll kill them if you hurt a hair on their pretty Capitol heads. Then you. ‘Sides… the blonde one’s my mentor. I might need him.”

One of the tributes from district four curled her lip in contempt. “How come you get one?”

“You all get one!” Snow told her, which earned him another enraged shove by Reaper.

She guffawed—Coral, yes, that was her name—with incredulity. “What, and we’re just supposed to believe you?”

“Why else would we get in here with you?” you said, exasperated. “We don’t even know where they’re taking you guys.”

Coral cocked a brow so high it nearly disappeared behind her choppy bangs. “Whose mentor are you?”

You limply waved your fingers at Wovey. “District eight’s girl.”

“So how come Skinny and Rainbow get special treatment? Why aren’t my mentors here?” Coral leaned down towards Lucy Gray in a taunting fashion, barely glancing over at Wovey.

Lucy Gray smiled, all toothy. “They just got inspired, I guess.”

A moment later, a loud rumbling came from outside the truck. Had they already arrived? There was a whir, and the whole truck began to tilt downward. The doors swung open and shocked gasps echoed throughout the metal cavern.

Reaper relinquished his grip on Snow to grab hold of Dill, and you launched yourself at Coriolanus, trying your best to grapple onto the grooves in the walls so you wouldn’t slip. Lucy Gray yelled as her foot slipped and she went toppling down—

You grabbed her hand, grunting with the combined weight of two people. Coriolanus’ grip on the wall slipped, and he bumped into you, causing your fingers to fumble.

The three of you went rolling down, out of the truck, back into the blinding sunlight. Your shoulder hit the ground hard, another sharp rock digging painfully into your back. That’d definitely bruise later. Disoriented, you dragged yourself up from the ground, frowning at the stinging sensation in your legs. Coriolanus was next to you the next second, grabbing at your face and arms, asking if you were alright. You nodded a few times, before pushing him away to see if the tributes were okay.

All of them were dizzy and aching, but other than that—seemed just fine. Or, as fine as they could be, given the circumstances.

Only then did you look around your surroundings. Metal fencing, dirt pen, discarded tires—Capitol citizens watching with wide, curious eyes. You caught sight of the Capitol Zoo’s insignia on an ice cream stand just past the fencing. 

“Ugh,” Coriolanus muttered, pale blonde hair properly tousled over his forehead. “What are all these people doing, staring at us? Don’t they have anything better to do? Don’t they have jobs? The children should be in school. It’s no wonder this country is in shambles.”

“The kids are on summer break, Coryo,” you deadpanned, shirking off your dark coat to give it a good dusting. 

Then, a familiar voice made your head snap towards the crowd.

Cameras. Mustache. Coin flip. 

“We’ll just give them a chance to stand up and catch their breath—I do have to admit I’m jealous of that big entrance! I’m Lucretius “Lucky” Flickerman, a man who needs no introduction.”

Oh, he certainly didn’t. He and your mother were tight-knit buddies when they went to school together, making the Flickermans good family friends. This was beyond embarrassing.

“Guess where I am today, folks! That’s right, the Capitol Zoo, where this year’s tributes will be held here, on display behind these bars for your viewing pleasure! That’s right, all twenty-four of them—” That was when he turned to point, and his eyes landed on you and Coriolanus. His words faltered. “What in Panem—is that academy rouge I see?”

You stiffly waved at the camera. Absent-mindedly, you passed a hand over your head to fix your hair. 

“Hey, Mr. Flickerman,” you called out with a grimace.

Lucky’s eyes bugged out of his head. He exclaimed your name in part-confusion, part-shock. “Hey, what’re you doing in there, kiddo? Who’s that dashing young man with you? We’re live!” He jutted a thumb back at the camera, its lens facing straight at you.

You spared him a stiff smile, eye twitching. Oh, your father was going to pop a blood vessel, you were sure.

“Uhm… well, uh—” The words caught in your throat and you lowered your voice so only Coriolanus could hear you. You had to ignore Lucky’s constant calls for your attention. “What do we do?”

His blue eyes, even paler in the bright sunlight, roamed over the onlookers. “We do what Highbottom told us to do,” he said, rolling his shoulders. He nudged you in the direction of Wovey, and began setting off for Lucy Gray. “We put on a show.”

You watched as the two, mentor and tribute, made their way to the fencing. As if there was a flip of a switch inside him, Coriolanus began to charm the onlookers and children, showing off his pearly whites, introducing himself and his rambunctious tribute. The children were enamoured with Lucy Gray, it seemed, judging by the way they bubbled over with questions about the snake, her colorful dress, her singing.

Lucky was having the time of his life interviewing them. If not for the current situation at hand—that being you trapped in a zoo enclosure—you would’ve laughed at his earnest excitement. Being a weatherman, a reporter, and an amateur-magician was apparently growing far too monotonous for someone with as large a personality as Lucretius Flickerman.

After much deliberation and cheek-biting, you turned and made your way toward Wovey, who was sitting down next to Bobbin on a tree stump. You noted the purple juice box, now crumpled and empty, discarded on the ground between them.

“Hey, guys,” you said, lowering down to one knee to speak to Wovey. “Do you want to go introduce yourself, sweetheart? Win over the Capitol citizens’ hearts?”

The young girl screwed up her face. Whether it was from shyness or distaste, you weren’t quite sure. Perhaps both. 

“I’ll be there with you. I promise,” you told her, holding your palm out for her to take.

Tentative, Wovey slipped off of the stump and clutched onto your hand. The two of you approached the barriers, with her nearly hiding behind you, clutching onto your coat.

Lucy Gray told the growing audience about her Covey family, a group of traveling musicians, and how she wasn’t actually from district twelve. Snow watched her with a somewhat proud, victorious expression. 

Lucky noticed you approaching, beckoning for the cameras to follow him as he made his way over to you. 

Quickly, he covered the top of the mic to lean forward and whisper, “Is the academy aware of what you’re doing?”

“No. Nobody told us not to, though.”

Lucky regarded you knowingly. “And does your father know about this little escapade of yours?”

“No,” you replied, frown-smiling. 

“Ooh. Good luck with that.” He spared you an amused wince. Then, he uncovered the microphone and gave the cameras another brilliant smile, introducing you with a flourish of his hands. “I’m here with a close personal friend of mine, Y/N L/N. And here we have their tribute, yes? Who might you be, young lady?”

You tried your best to encourage Wovey out of her shyness, going so far as to pat her shoulder and to gently push back the thin strands of hair falling in front of her face. She croaked out her name and her district, and Lucky asked her another myriad of overwhelming questions.

Whilst the crowd around the ever-charming Lucy Gray was watching her with curiosity and awe, the audience you were gathering looked upon Wovey with pity and something mildly akin to empathy.

There were perks to getting the youngest tribute, maybe. 

 She was telling them about how she liked to climb trees back in district eight. Yes, that’d be useful in the games. 

You looked over to see Coriolanus observing you with your tribute. He gave you a nod, perhaps a second too late. The man found himself wondering if he could somehow garner the crowd’s sympathy using Lucy Gray, too. How’d you manage to do that?

Before he could spare another thought on the matter, there was a dim buzzing coming from across the enclosure. A door opened, and four peacekeepers marched in.

“Looks like you’re going to get whisked away, kiddo,” Lucky told you, nodding behind. “Tell your mother I said hello. And make sure to take a nice, long shower before dinner tonight. Don’t want the smell of zoo hovering over my steak.”

You rolled your eyes as Lucky chuckled at his own quips, then looked down at Wovey with a far softer expression.

“I’ll be back. I’ll come back with more for you. Just hold on for me, okay?”

The frail girl nodded. She didn’t seem to want to let go of you, even when the peacekeepers began to semi-forcefully lead you away, out of the enclosure. Coriolanus wasn’t far behind, being manhandled far more aggressively than you were. 

The soldiers shoved you out the door and shut it with a heavy click of a lock, before marching off to the sides.

Coriolanus reached out for you, hands resting on your elbows. “How was it?”

“Could’ve gone worse.” You studied his features. There was a faint trace of dirt smudged across his jaw—no doubt acquired somewhere in the truck or when everyone came tumbling out. 

The two of you stared at each other for a moment longer, until you shook your head and broke into a smile, accompanied by a breathy laugh.

“Lucky called you a dashing young man.”

“He’s ridiculous,” he scoffed, and tugged you along to start walking. “Do you think either of us have a chance? At winning?”

The smile melted off your expression, and you grew somber once more. “Well… anything can happen in the arena. We just need to be smart about it. Neither of our tributes are fighters.”

Coriolanus stared off into the distance, brows cinched, heavy with thought. 

“They’ll need to be,” he said. “Surviving isn’t enough. Not in these games.”

Your lips parted, wondering what in Panem he could mean by that. Did he really expect Lucy Gray to become a killer overnight? Or was he planning for her to do something else? He didn’t seem to notice your perturbed disposition, and kissed the side of your head. 

Just as Coriolanus walked you to your doorstep, you gripped his hands, and your tone suddenly became very serious.

“I just wanted to tell you—before Highbottom announced the mentoring change, I was sure one of us would win the Plinth prize. And, well, I was going to give you the money if it came to me because I definitely wouldn’t need it. But now, since there’s a good chance neither of us are getting it…”

Snow’s features twisted with evident dismay. 

You squeezed his hands with yours. “I can get my parents to pay your university tuition, if neither of us get that Plinth prize. Please, Coryo, don’t take this as charity. Take it because I care about you. I don’t want you to get caught up in… winning these games. Whatever you’re planning for Lucy Gray… I can’t see it being anything she’d be willing to do.”

It might’ve been a trick of light, but you could’ve sworn you saw an irksome glint flash across his eyes. He bitterly came to the conclusion that you probably did botch one of your exams for him—not that that mattered now. Besides, it was you offering money, not him begging for it. The placating thought made it easier for his features to slip into a reassuring, easy softness. 

“I appreciate the offer, I really do,” Snow said, cradling your face as if you were a fragile piece of china. Yet his touch felt bruising all the same. “But you shouldn’t worry. I don’t think Lucy Gray is going to win. Not on her own, at least. So I’m going to help her—and Highbottom is going to regret ever trying to make an enemy of me.”

He dipped forward, brushed a whisper of a kiss along your cheek, and swiped his thumb over your bottom lip. 

And then he was gone.

[lieutenantbatshit]

hii!! i was wondering if you'd be interested in writing a young inho x reader, something fluffy, maybe like a university!au where the reader and inho are both training for police, and they go from meet ugly to lovers?? nothing too long, just a short little au!!

all up to you if you'd like to pick this up!! love ur current series btw

my kind of distraction (hwang in-ho x reader)

Tags: university!au, inho x reader, enemies to lovers, young in-ho, fluff

Summary: You first meet In-ho at a convenience store, unbeknownst to you that he was also party of the police academy you were training for. On your first day of training, you meet In-ho again and think of him as someone who's arrogant during trainings, as he would criticize you whenever you were partnered with him. Over time, you found yourself looking forward to your trainings together. And when you successfully anticipated his next move, for the first time in a while, he smiled.

A/N: I know I used a Mr. Sunshine GIF for this AU, but it's the perfect scenario of what I pictured in my head. I'm sorry this took awhile as I am still grieving over my father, but here it is! 🫡

----

The fluorescent light cast a stark, sterile glow over neatly stacked shelves, the faint beep of the cashier scanning items, and the quiet hum of refrigerators lined with colorful drinks. As you entered the convenience, the smell of instant noodles, cheap coffee, and something fried from the food warmer near the counter reached your nose.

The ground beneath your feet was steady, yet it felt as if you’re walking on air, one breath away from something bigger than your grasp. You took a big step out of your comfort zone, entering the police academy with no connections - just pure luck. For the past few days, you’ve been trying to convince yourself that you made a great choice, that it was enough. Enough to prove the fear doesn’t get to hold you back. That growth isn’t meant to be comfortable. 

You sighed as you grabbed an instant ramen on the shelf, with a soda in a can at hand. You had to eat something, at least. The nervousness in taking it all by yourself, taking control of your life, was starting to get to you. At least, in this way, you felt normal.

You didn’t notice him at first. Not until you round the corner of an aisle, trying to get to the cashier, and see him standing by the refrigerated section.

Tall. Composed. Effortlessly self-assured in a way that feels almost deliberate. 

He doesn’t look around, doesn’t hesitate in his movements. His fingers graze over a row of canned coffee, seeing it labeled as Americano as he plucked one off the shelf with a kind of precision that suggests he does this often. There’s an air of distance about him, something cold and untouchable, like he exists in a space just slightly apart from everyone else. 

Even as another customer brushes past him, murmuring a quiet sorry, he doesn’t acknowledge it, doesn’t shift, doesn’t react. He simply steps back as if it’s expected, as if the world should move around him rather than the other way around. The cool blue light of the fridge highlights the sharp angles of his face. You shook your head, an attempt to shake him away from your thoughts as you noticed yourself staring. He hasn’t noticed you yet. Or maybe he has, and he just doesn’t care. 

And then, as if sensing your stare, he lifts his gaze and meets yours.“You see something you like?” He said, voice low and edged with a quiet arrogance. 

You snapped away from your thoughts immediately as you felt your throat tighten, caught between embarrassment and irritation. 

You open your mouth, ready with a sharp retort, but then he turned away. He walked past you without a glance, the scent of coffee and something clean lingering in the air as he passed. It should be unremarkable, just another fleeting moment in a late-night store. 

But something about him stays with you. You don’t know why yet.

Not yet, anyway.

But one thing’s for sure - that annoyed you more than anything else.

——

The universe had other plans. The kind of plan that didn’t think of you, that didn’t care for your feelings. 

“Hwang In-ho.”

You snapped your head up just in time to see him forward as you stood in formation on your first day of training at the police academy, listening to the instructor call out partner assignments. You nearly feel your stomach drop as you see him, the man you met at the convenience store.

He was composed as ever, his expression still unreadable. 

“And you,” the instructor continues, turning toward you. “You’ll be working with him.”

Your gaze stayed still, trying not to show any emotion from what you felt from your first encounter with Hwang In-ho. You avoided his faze as he walks over to stand beside you; something flickers across his face. A moment of quiet recognition.

His eyes drag over you as if to assess you, tilting his head a bit. Then, he let out a quiet chuckle.

“You again,” he murmured, just low enough that only you can hear. 

You straighten your shoulders, trying not to let his arrogance under your skin. “Guess you’ll be seeing a lot more of me.”

In-ho smirked, his gaze lingering longer before he looked ahead again, completely at ease. “Try to keep up.”

For the past few months, you trained with In-ho. As much as you wanted to think of him as your equal, you can’t help but feel the rivalry between you two. Beside you, In-ho was already prepared, his stance immaculate, and his confidence radiated like an invisible force. 

The sound of boots scraped against the floor echoed in the small, sparse room. You and In-ho stood in the center. The air was thick with anticipation, and despite the calm exterior, you could feel the adrenaline humming through your veins. Today’s training was all about speed and precision - drawing the weapon fast enough to stop a threat before it had a chance to react.

In-ho had already settled into his stance, the gun at his side, but his eyes were sharp, scanning the space like he could already predict what would happen next. His usual cocky smirk was there, though this time, it had a sharper edge to it.

“You ready to keep up?” In-ho asked, his voice almost mocking.

“Just don’t slow me down,” you replied. You tried to ignore the way his words grated against you. You knew he was trying to test you. Drawing the weapon wasn’t just about speed - it was about control, about making every move count without wasting time. 

In-ho turned his head, his eyes glinting with that same arrogant fire. “You should be thanking me for this. You’ll never get this fast on your own.”

You clenched your jaw but didn’t respond. It wasn’t worth it. You knew what you needed to do.

“Go.”

Your fingers shot to the grip of the gun, a smooth, practiced motion - except it wasn’t quite smooth enough. Your hand fumbled slightly at first, a split-second delay in pulling the gun free, and that split-second was enough for In-ho to draw your gun away.

In-ho lowered his gun with a grin, his voice dripping with that all too familiar smugness. “You might want to work on that. A slow draw will get you killed before you even start.”

You felt the heat of frustration surge in your chest, but you swallowed it down. As much as you didn’t want to admit it, he was right. Yet you didn’t want to lose this time. 

“Let’s do it again,” you said, steadying your breathing.

In-ho gave you a cocky nod, clearly entertained. “Fine. But don’t take too long. I wouldn’t want you to waste all my time.”

You took a step closer, not missing a beat. “Oh, I’m sure you’d love to waste more time on me,” you teased, leaning in just enough for him to notice the playful glint in your eyes. “But I think you’re already getting a little distracted.”

In-ho’s expression faltered for a moment, his usual confidence slipping as he caught the shift on your tone. His eyes lingered on you, just a fraction longer than what was considered normal, and for the first time, you saw a flicker of something else behind his gaze. 

At that moment, you knew you caught him off guard.

In-ho’s expression shifted, his confidence momentarily shaken as he cleared his throat. “You think you can distract me that easily?” A tight chuckle escaped from his lips.

You shrugged with a smirk. “I’m sure you can handle it. But I think you might be a little more… interested in what I can do.”

In-ho’s lips twitched, fighting back a smile. For a second, you could see him caught between his usual arrogance and the curiosity that had crept up into his eyes. He cleared his throat, trying to regain control of the situation. “You’re playing a dangerous game,” he said, though there was a slight edge to his voice, something more amused than irritated.

“Ready for round two?” You challenged, giving him a wink, this time with more confidence than before. 

“Go.”

The signal came again, and this time, you were ready. Your hand shot to the holster, faster, smoother, pulling the gun with fluid motion from him. You pointed and aimed at In-ho, sending his arms up in surrender. 

For a moment, the room went still. In-ho was caught off guard, the playful glint in his eyes replaced by a flicker of surprise. You couldn’t help but grin, your finger resting lightly on the trigger, though you weren’t about to fire.

“You were saying?” You asked, your voice low and teasing.

In-ho blinked, the smile creeping back onto his face, only this time, it was different. There was something more impressed in it, a quiet acknowledgement of the thought that you just won.

“Guess I underestimated you,” In-ho said, his cockiness returning, though with a slight edge of admiration.

You lowered your gun, placing it on your pockets as you wiped your sweat away with a face towel. “You do that a lot, don’t you?” A soft chuckle escaped from you.

To your surprise, he smiled. “You’re full of surprises.” His voice was almost softer now, a subtle warmth in his words.

You felt your heart skip a beat. There was something about the way he looked at you - something disarmingly genuine in the smile that reached his eyes. As you tried to steady the racing of your heart, you swallowed as you let out a small grin. “You have no idea,” you replied.

In-ho watched you for a moment longer, the smile still playing at the corners of his lips. He seemed to favor the tension between you and him before giving a slight nod. “I think I’m starting to.”

----

>> REQUEST HERE

[with-my-calamitous-love]

I DONT LIKE ANYONE EXCEPT SOMETIMES YOU

shinso x reader

thoughts about how shinso would act in a relationship. same premise as the kirishima ver.

inspired by backburner

hitoshi shinso, who’s facetimes with you always run late into the night. you ramble on about your day while he hums in response, knowing that you know he’s not the talkative type. he never asks “how was your day?” he always says “tell me about your day.” because he really, truly wants to hear about your day. you could have cured a disease or simply just gotten out of bed, and he’d still want to hear every single detail simply because its from you.

hitoshi shinso, who loves to cook. only you're aware of it, because he doesn't always like sharing personal details with others, but you never complained- it just means more for you. you're always the first person that gets to try his food, though he claims you're not a very good critic. but you can't help it, everything he makes tastes so good. and with every compliment you shower him in, he'll hit you with a 'yeah, yeah, whatever.' and then next moment, make you more so you can always stay fed during long days at UA and long hours during hero-training. its his silent way of telling you he loves you.

hitoshi shinso, whose cats love you more than they love him. he has three triplets, a black british short hair, a siamese, and a grey ragdoll- pepper, lexi, and mustache- he absolutely hates the last name, but he had just adopted the kitten and you named it for its white streak right below its nose. he'll deny it forever, but he gets pouty and huffs in annoyance whenever he sees the cats run to you, even after he's fed and taken care of them for all of their lives. but he also cant deny the way his heart skips a beat whenever he seems them cuddled up with you on his bed, wearing one of his big t-shirts. it softens his heart in a way that nothing else does- your love fills his heart more strongly and more passionately than anything does.

hitoshi shinso, who is the closed-off, funny but quiet dickhead of his friend group. he's known for his out-of-pocket roasts at the right times and his nonchalant nature that contrasts with the loud, spunkiness of his multicolored-haired friends. but with you, he softens. the few times he's brought you along with him to movie night or training sessions, you've softened his heart enough for the love in him to seep out towards others as well. whenever you crack a joke, make someone else at the table smile, and draw laughs and happiness from their chests, a blush blooms across his cheeks. obviously, he fell for you, how could he not?

hitoshi shinso, who's favorite activity with you is your sunday-ritual. you'll wake up together, either in the same bed or over the phone, and bike down to the coast. you'll bug him about wearing a helmet, but he always complains that it ruins your hair. he'd never admit that its because he thinks you're absolutely adorable when you dote on him. afterwards he'll share a smoothie with you- he hates all the flavors except for mixed berry, which is the one he always insists on getting. he hates the the overpricing for what the product actually is, but loves the smile it puts on your face after a tiring bike-ride. and afterwards, you two will go back to either his of your place. his place if your parents aren't home, and his place when his parents are home, and binge watch a long t.v show of your choosing. he'll always complain that its stupid, poorly written or drawn out, but get pouty whenever you watch an episode without him. it's the one thing he looks forwards to at the end of a long week, drawn out with endless studies, training, and burnout. you're his safe place, and he needs it more than he'll admit.

hitoshi shinso, who somehow remembers every tiny detail about you. his mind works like gears, arranging formulas and deciphering codes, but the intellect of his mind makes you its priority. he remembers the way you pick your nails and cuticles when you have anxiety, and how placing his warm palm over yours soothes some of those thoughts. he remembers how prefer to tie your hair back during training but how you somehow always forget a hair tie- and he knows how you always give him a peck on his cheek once he shows off the one he's been keeping on his wrist for you. he remembers how you can't sleep without your nightly calls, and how he needs to hear your voice before he drifts of too- maybe more than you need it. he remembers the first day you met, the first thing he said to you, the first time he ever felt love for you. he remembers all of it and keeps it embedded in his heart. hitoshi shinso may seem like he hates everyone, but the one exception to that is you. and he'll remember that forever.

[connorsui]

Nanami Kento x fem! Reader || Imagine ||

"A Love Timeless as Morning"

Mornings with Nanami Kento were like waking up to sunlight that clung softly to the horizon, hesitant to break fully, yet determined to illuminate every shadow in its path. He moved about the kitchen with quiet grace, the kind that comes not from haste but from someone who had learned to find joy in the simplicity of life. His shirt sleeves were rolled to his elbows, apron tied neatly at his waist—an emblem of his devotion to the little things that meant everything.

And when he greeted you, it was always the same: "Good morning, sweetheart." His voice, a balm to your sleepy soul, resonated like the smooth pour of coffee into a delicate cup. "Darling," he would continue, as though the mere utterance of affection might not be enough for him, as though love could only be contained within a multitude of names. "Beautiful," he murmured with reverence, like the word itself was created solely to describe you. "(y/n) " he added, a softness in his tone that melted over the syllables like warm syrup over pancakes.

His eyes, tender and unwavering, never left you. They held the kind of focus that left you feeling as though you were the only thing that mattered in the entire world. It was in these moments you realized that Nanami’s love was not loud or brash, but constant—steady, like the tick of a clock you never noticed until the room grew silent.

As you sat at the kitchen table, still wrapped in the remnants of sleep, his food before you—a carefully cooked breakfast of eggs, toast, and fruit—felt like an offering, a small piece of his soul made tangible. You took a bite, and he watched, his lips quirking into a satisfied smile, the kind that came not from arrogance but from a deep-seated pride that he had done this for you.

His hand, rough from work but gentle in its touch, reached out to your head, fingers threading through your messy bed hair with an affection that was more instinct than conscious thought. "You’re a mess," he teased, though his voice held no real criticism—only a profound joy in seeing you just as you were. His thumb grazed your temple, smoothing away the last remnants of sleep, as if to ensure you woke up fully in the light of his gaze.

Nanami looked at you as though you were a dream that had come to life—a dream he feared waking from but cherished in every waking moment. His smile, ever rare to others, came so easily to you. It was a smile that crinkled the edges of his eyes, a fleeting expression of pure contentment that he only ever showed in the privacy of these mornings.

There you were, in his clothes—his shirt hanging loosely on your frame, sleeves too long, but perfectly right in every way that mattered. There you were, in his home, the apartment no longer a sterile refuge from the world but a haven, alive and warm, because you were in it. And there you were, eating the breakfast he had cooked, the simplest act made extraordinary because it was you who received it.

You glanced up from your plate to meet his gaze, and the air between you seemed to hum with something unspoken but deeply understood. You were everything he had ever wanted, and the realization of that dream, the very fact that you were here, was enough to fill him with a quiet, profound joy.

He cupped your cheek then, tilting your face toward him. "I believe I am living a dream with you," he whispered, his voice heavy with sincerity. "Do you know that?" The weight of his words was soft, but they lingered, settling deep within you like the warmth of the morning sun through an open window. "You bring me everything I could have ever desired"

In that moment, you were certain: Nanami Kento’s love was like the sunrise itself. Not hurried, not sudden, but inevitable. Quiet, yet brilliant in its constancy. His love had always been waiting for you, patient and persistent, ready to fill the world with light as soon as you opened your eyes to it. And now, with each morning, with every touch, every pet name that left his lips, his love grew only stronger, richer, deeper—a love as timeless as the dawn that greeted you both each day.

I just need a soft morning with this man

[gay-dorito-dust]

Please a Johnny storm x reader? The reader is a baker and she bakes valentines treats for Johnny even she gives Johnny family too

‘No.’ You said.

‘I didn’t even do anything yet!’ Johnny exclaims as he pulled his hand away from your Valentine’s Day heart cookies with raspberries and white chocolate chip that were on the cooling rack. It’s not his fault they smelled amazing and that you were an absolute genius when it came to baking delicious foods, besides Johnny was naturally under the assumption they were for him, especially seeing as how you would always leave him a tupperware box filled with everything you’ve baked for him.

‘They are not for you this time.’ You told him as you watched his eyes widen in disbelief before gesturing to the heart shaped cookies on the cooling rack, as though the thought of you making something for someone else outside of him was something he couldn’t fathom, and he couldn’t. ‘Not for me? I’m your boyfriend and it’s Valentine’s Day, who else could they be for sweetness? Nobody asked you to be their valentines behind my back did they?’ He says with a pout forming on his lips that never failed to make you smile at how cute he was being, even if it was as when he was being all whines and pouting over not getting something he wanted.

‘It’s for your family.’ You replied with a chuckle as you focused on piping the four chocolate cherry muffins -one for each family member including your goofy, hotshot of a boyfriend- with fuchsia pink icing, smiling when you felt Johnny’s arms latch onto your waist as he rests his head on your shoulder, his doe eyes were now soft as was his smile as he watched you do what felt like second nature to you with curiosity and awe. Johnny didn’t know how you could so effortlessly make such delicious treats, but it was only just one more thing that he adored about you, for watching you bake happened to be his favourite thing to do becuase it meant that he got to be your taste tester for your first batches.

‘My family doesn’t deserve your sweet treats, Valentine’s Day or not.’ Johnny stated as though it made perfect sense, but to you it sounded as though you were listening to a child like tantrum on how your boyfriend didn’t like to share your creations, only ever wanting to selfishly hog them all to himself under the guise of wanting to give you some constructive criticism; of which somehow includes taking extra tastes tests to reaffirm his thoughts on your baked goods.

You scoffed as you set aside the icing bag to look at Johnny, resting your hands on his shoulders. ‘And let you eat everything like the gluttonous monster that you are? They at least deserve something from me to show my gratitude in being welcomed into the family.’ Which was true. Sue, Reed and Ben had been nothing but sweet and welcoming to you when Johnny first brought you to the Baxter building, apparently to them Johnny only referred you as the really cute baker that smelled like cookie dough before they got your actual name that night at dinner.

In actuality Ben wanted to help you bake this morning, but you were very insistent that you do all the baking for him and his family for this particular day, a day of supposed celebration of love where love of all kinds was encouraged to be shown through overly expensive gifts. You hated that aspect and decided to make the people you love sweet treats with your barehands, after all it was better then buy some mass produced sweet treats that wouldn’t taste anywhere near as good as your own.

Johnny’s smile widened upon hearing you speak so kindly of his family, loving how you were wanting to show your thankfulness towards them by making something from your barehands, something that Johnny had soon learned was your version of a love language with how often you did similar things with him now and then. ‘They love you more than enough.’ Johnny reassured you as he pecked your cheek, holding you closer to him just so he could cover more of your face in kisses, all the while as he whispered words of comfort to your overworking mind. ‘But I will always love you more becuase I am your boyfriend, not that I’m jealous that they’re getting all this sweet stuff and I’m left on my own.’

You couldn’t help but laugh as you moved back to grab one of the chocolate cherry muffins and present it to Johnny. ‘I didn’t forget you stupid, you know I’ll always think of you when I bake.’ You tell him as you watched his eyes shine excitedly as he reached out for the muffin, shoving it into his mouth and groaning as the taste of cherries and sweetness of chocolate hit his tastebuds.

‘Is it because you love me?’ He says through a mouthful, something you smack him playfully on the bicep for before wiping smears of fuchsia icing near his lips.

‘No because I frequently remember the time I had to stop you from getting salmonella.’ You said and Johnny looks at you unimpressed, remembering that embarrassing moment in his life as well as you did, though he was too proud to stay so but you were able to see through him and knew his true feelings on certain things.

‘That was one time! We promised we wouldn’t talk about that.’ He whines as he swallows the remains of the muffin before placing his head against yours, where you could almost taste the cherries and chocolate on his lips with how close he was to brushing against your own. You smile as your hands reached to hold his face, caressing his cheeks as you felt yourself at home with the silly man you got to call yours in front of you.

‘Sure now I need my beloved taste tester to help me bring all these treats to his family, all without feeling tempted to eat them after devouring his own muffin within seconds.’ You whispered to Johnny, looking him deep into his beautiful brown eyes, only to find love and affection looking back at you as you felt yourself wanting nothing more then to stay within his arms for the rest of the day but you really needed to give Ben, Sue and Reed their valentines baked goods. ‘Do you think you can do that for me?’ You finished.

‘For you sweetness? I’d do anything.’ Johnny answered honestly and he kept his word as he helped you give his family their sweet treats, albeit teasing Ben a little bit before giving him his treats per your request; and not once did he take sneaky bites behind your back either and you treated him greatly by giving him his baked goods, all of which were filled with his favourites you’ve made in the past.

You may not like valentines as a whole, but if baking for your loved ones and seeing their happiness upon their face whenever they took a bite? Then you’d be more than willing to keep doing so into the nearby distant future for your family.