#lol though i have no question why you asked me this

[fungateshortcakes]

Personal attention ASMR

Don't ask questions just run with it

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Reader

Summary: You use Logan as your ASMR model

Wordcount: 2.4k (this was supposed to be a drabble what happened)

Warnings/tags: none, english is not my first language, fluff, established relationship, reader is gender neutral but is described to wear acrylic nails, sharp or dull challenge, hair brushing, face tracing, nail tapping, face masks, implied that reader wifes Logan up in the future lol

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The cozy glow of a string of fairylights illuminated Logan as he sat in his armchair, a beer in hand, watching you fiddle with your - what did you call it? - ASMR setup? You struggled to get your camera into the right position on your tripod without knocking off the little hypersensitive microphones that extended from each side.

Logan sat there with an amused smile, but as his eyes wandered over the coffee table that was packed with various tools he couldn't name, facemasks that ran too pink and glittery for his liking- in that moment he thought, why the hell had he agreed to this? Your damned puppy eyes and sweet kisses, that's why.

"You're seriously gon' make me do this?" he asked you, standing up from his seat to stretch. "You agreed to it" you pouted before laughing. "Do I have to let you sign something next time?"

Logan rolled his eyes playfully at your words, shaking his head and lifting his hands dismissively "Nah, I'm kiddin'. I'll do it. But just cause it's you" he replied, helping you connect everything. You gave his rugged cheek a biiig kiss "You're the best boyfriend ever"

Logan chuckled and gave you back some sloppy, over the top kisses to your own cheeks until you were grossed out giggling. "I won't take the blame if your lil' fans don't like it though"

You shook your head. "I am sure they will love it. And you have nothing to worry about except being relaxed and looking pretty. I'll handle the rest" you teased him, smoothing out the thick neutral grey coloured blanket on your carpet in front of the couch, adding a matching pillow for Logan to rest his head on.

He shimmied into position on the ground so he looked directly into the camera hanging over his face. You made sure that his face was entirely in frame, fiddling with the contrast controls of the camera. The warm light from the fireplace contoured the left side of his face while the cold fairylights illuminated the right side of it, creating a interesting and aesthetical pleasing scene. This was gonna be great!

After everything was tuned to perfection, you knelt down over Logans head so you had all the access to his face that you needed. You had even gotten new acrylic nails for the occasion!

You rubbed your hands together "So, one of the most important rules of ASMR is no talking, only whispering. Okay? We want the ambience to be nice and peaceful" you explained excitedly to him. You knew that Logan knew what he was getting into - somewhat. The concept of ASMR wasn't too foreign to him. That comes with having a better half that does ASMR content for a living, but you still wanted to make sure.

Logan scoffed, snorting "Right. Peaceful. That's me"

You slapped his chest, shooting him a mocking glare in the process. "Shush now. I want to start" Logan blew a rasberry at you but quickly settled down after you switched on the camera for recording.

You showed your freshly manicured nails into the camera, tapping the crisp acrylic before slightly scraping them over Logans face "Welcome to another personal attention ASMR. My model for today is my beautiful boyfriend. He was kind enough to be of assistance" you whispered into the microphones, your voice soft and quiet.

Logan huffed at your words, only a small smile playing at his lips but he chose to not say anything and let you work. "We will be starting by tracing his face." you cooed gently, tapping the tips of your nails against his cheek with your left hand while your right hand mimicked the movements off-screen on a wooden board "Oh yeah, forgot to mention, he is a lumberjack, so he is more wood than man" you giggled into the mic, making Logans eyes roll at the corniness. But he couldn't deny that it felt nice.

You drew tingly patterns on his face, each sounding like scratching across crisp wood. You poked three dots under his eyes, drew an x on his forhead over and over again, traced over his frownlines and trailed your nail over his face in a continous line until you gently proded at his lips, making it sound like you knocked on them. He gave the tip of your nail a brief kiss, making you sigh out a smile into the mic. You tapped his face a few more times until you decided to switch up the trigger.

"Next, we will be playing a very popular little game" you spoke in a shushed tone, creating a bit of anticipation before you showed the camera two tools. One was a make-up brush, the other a kind of metal dermaroller with rotating spikes. You brought the tools to Logans head after you parted his hair to your liking "I'm going to touch your scalp with different textures. One is dull-" you started to explain, dragging the soft bristles of your brush over his head "-and the other one is going to be sharp like this" you ended, dragging the spiky roller across. "You feel the difference?" Logan nodded at your question, a low grumble sounding in the back of his throat.

"Good. I want you to tell me which one you feel, sharp or dull. Close your eyes for me, baby" you cooed quitely, humming as Logan did as he was told.

You angled his head a bit to have easier access, taking your time to part his hair neatly in a different location than before until you were ready to start. You stippled the brush against his head, waiting for an answer. "Dull" he whispered and for a second, you felt your chest tighten with joy. He was actually playing along and taking this seriously, it warmed your heart. When you said he was the best boyfriend, you meant it.

You switched the tool, drawing a line with the spike roller from the back all the way in front to his hairline, picking it up again and waiting for his reaction. "Sharp" he murmured and wow, his voice was very relaxing like this. You always found his voice soothing, but his deep whispers were another level. "Very good" you praised and a little proud smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. You decided to use the sharp roller again, letting it hit his skin only shortly before stopping. "Sharp" he replied, enjoying the way the tool made strong tingles errupt from the very top of his head all the way down his back. This was nice.

Your fingers raked through his hair, choosing another part of his head to part. You swiped the tip of your brush over him next, nodding as he whispered "Dull" to you in a hushed voice. You took your time to admire his face for a moment. It wasn’t tense nor taught, the usual frown line between his brows smoothed out and barely visible.

Another stipple of your brush "Dull", another turn of your roller "Sharp".

If you asked Logan, you could do this forever. He would prefer to be completely silent, though. And for you to only use the spiky tool.

To tease him a bit, you used both the brush and the dermaroller at the same time, softly giggling at the way his nose scrunched a bit in confusion. "Come again?" he whispered, a gruffness in his tone. You did, watching him lose faith in himself. As you repeated it the third time, he cracked open an eye and tried to keep his reaction as quiet as he could as to not mess up the video "That ain't fair, sugar" he said a little louder than intended, making you softly giggle into the microphone.

You put your stuff away, ready to move onto the next trigger. Your nails found his coarse beard, scratching along the thick mutton chops in circles while you explained what you were going to do next. "Now that we have messed up his hair quite a bit, I think it’s time for a bit of hair brushing" you whispered, cooing at the way Logan purred almost like a cat as you played with his beard. You kept that in mind for next time.

You sat back and got a neat brush, showing it off to the camera, tapping your nails against the plastic backside a little, before letting your fingers glide over the bristles slowly, softly whispering "bruushhh, bruushhh" over and over again.

When you started, Logan fought the urge to roll his eyes into the back of his head. Your slow strokes just hit the spot, tingles and shivers exploding on his head. If the little spike tool felt like heaven already, then this was absolute nirvana. Now this was something you could do for the rest of his life.

Your gentle whispers of brushing fell on deaf ears as Logan tried not to hum at the feeling of the bristles scratching over his scalp. You combed through his whole head of hair multiple times, changing out the brushes and combs from time to time to not make it boring for the viewers and to give Logan different sensations.

When you were done, you settled on scratching his scalp with your nails instead, both hands under his head, massaging in deep circles. "Oh wow" Logan couldn’t help but murmur, closing his eyes for a second to stop them from trying to roll back. You could practically see the shudder that went through him at that, his mouth slightly agape.

As you stopped to get your next pieces of equipment, Logans eyes fluttered open, darting around as if he had just randomly woken up in the middle of nowhere, completely disoriented. It was cute.

"Last but not least, I have some face masks prepared for him." you muttered, presenting the camera a glittery, foaming face mask, swirling a brush through the bowl it was in, the soft crackling of the bubbles being picked up by the mic.

"But first, we will lightly prep his skin. Close your eyes for me, love" you whispered to Logan who gladly let his eyes flutter shut. You used a clear face primer, putting it on his face in little droplets all over before moving to get your sparkly water globes. You turned the globes in your hand, a satisfying glug glug glug emitting from them, iridescent glitter swirling inside. You brought them together at the bottom ever so gently as to not make them break over Logans face, a sound you either loved or hated coming from them as they bounced off of each other quickly.

Then you let the round, bulbous sides glide over Logans face to spread the primer and work it into his skin. At first he slightly jumped from the sudden coldness, but it didn’t take long for him to ease into it as the bulbs warmed up.

You were swiping the smooth globes over his skin effortlessly, removing the puffiness from under his eyes, massaging his cheeks in circular motions and easing any kind of headache as you glid over his forhead and temples. He could really really get used to this.

Like with everything else, you ended this treatment far too soon for his liking. And if he didn't know any better, he would actually start to protest.

The next thing he knew, he felt something cold and gel-like being pressed to his under eyes. Nurishing eye patches - sparkling, probably. Then he heard you rub your hands together, before your palms landed on his cheeks. The foam on your hands crackled loudly at the contact, the bubbles bursting and popping on his skin. You massaged it in, cooeing and making sounds with your mouth. His head lolled a little, too relaxed and sleepy for his own good. But he wasn't about to fall asleep, nuh uh, he wouldn’t fall asleep because of some ASMR stuff.

By the time your hands were back on his scalp to let the foam mask really sink in before washing it off, he was gone. Out like a light

At first, you hadn't even noticed, mindlessly scratching and massaging his head thoroughly with your nails and admiring his relaxed face, thinking about how lucky you were to have him. You had boyfriends before that laughed in your face when you asked them to be part of a video. When they realised you weren't joking, they got mad and lashed out, telling you that not even over their dead body would they sit there like a dumbass and have you whispering weird bulshit in their ear. You were disappointed, a simple no would have done it. But they were angry like it was something deeply personal. Not Logan though, he was a sweetheart.

He acted like he didn't want to, that he was only doing this because you batted your eyelashes at him, but deep down you knew he liked doing these things for you, seeing you so happy and excited was enough. If he was truly against it, he wouldn’t be in this position right now.

You liked to think he was secretly actually enjoying this - imagine your face as you realised he had fallen dead asleep, softly snoring as you wiped the foam mask off his face ever so gently as to not wake him up. "He has fallen asleep, guys" you whispered into the mic, the giddy smile could be heard from your voice even though your face wasn’t visible. You couldn't believe it. Your big, beefy teddy bear of a boyfriend fell asleep because of a little pampering.

You cooed softly, rubbing the last oil treatment onto his skin, being extra careful and gentle with him. "If you liked this video, leave a like, consider following my channel and leave a comment if you want to see more boyfriend content" you said in a hushed voice, coddling the face of your sleeping boyfriend. "See you next time, lovelies!" you whispered, booping Logans nose before switching off the camera.

Your boyfriend continued to snooze even after that, laying there unbothered with a glowy face. And it that moment you knew, maybe it was time. Just maybe, a few videos later, you could welcome your fans to another ASMR video with your husband.

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This idea came to me so randomly, i hope you guys still like it. Let me know in the comments please and leave a like, reblog if you want <3 I love to see it🎀

[hyukascampfire]

𝓖INGER & 𝓢NAP ` ꕀ. k.th

you were the last person taehyun expected to appear on his doorstep. sweet and fluffy and oh-so-proper; he never thought he’d see you again. but... there you stand. and, much to his own chagrin, he fears that nobody else could get him more bothered. ׄ ⋆ ִ

་༘ ՚՚ ꒰ 🪵 ꒱ ･ 7.9k

ρairings gingerbread!taehyun x frosty puff!reader

𝒢 ‧̥ smut, fantasy, strawberry shortcake au

⍵arnings brat taming, brat tamer!taehyun & brat!reader, his cum is frosting, creampie, ofc no sex ed in strawberryland, thigh riding, oral m!receiving, cumming into mouth, cum eating, corruption of innocence & innocent!reader, banter, chubby!reader and buff!taehyun, manhandling, he throws her around a bit and she's so into it, they don't like each other but also def do, he likes to teach her manners, reader is also spoiled & rich and taehyun is not, hair pulling, he gets mean, no protectiom, let me know if i missed some!

✎୭ ashlynn's note this collab has been seriously so fun. writing fics is fun, but there's something about talking your friends and scheming all the yummy ways you can incorporate certain things into your fic. @thetxtdevil mae baby, thank you so much for being the best and even coming up with this idea. your mind amazes me... like actually. everybody did so unbelievably good, and i'm blessed to have been a part of it. now... let's get foody and smutty lol. some of this was written in a benadryl haze, but that's the fun part. i'm sorry mine came out a lil later than everybody else's, but hopefully it's still fun!

... back to the masterlist ⌇ back to strawberryland

Raising your fist to the door, your knuckles rap against it with a few thick knocks. The door is frosted around the edges in little swirling white puffs of icing, framing the gingerbread door. It’s the same all around his house: gumdrops and candy canes and the like, all twinkling with sugar crystals.

It’s all so sweet—unbelievably so. The man that calls it home is the very antithesis of sweet. He does not take after the gumdrop, nor the sweetness of the icing, and most definitely not the brown sugar and molasses of the gingerbread. Taehyun is the quick snapping of a leg, or the sharpness on your tongue when you get to the cinnamon and nutmeg. 

You loathe it. Even being stood here, knocking at his door, you hate. He is everything uncouth and abrasive—he is everything you should not entertain. 

Here you are, entertaining it. The door swings open. Your fingers and toes have begun to slow with the cold, like frosty-whip in the fridge. Through the forest, stepping over sugar bushes and cocoa streams, you had fought the bite. Why did he have to live all the way out here? Secluded, as though the rest of Strawberryland were beneath his meddling. You know why: it’s that he believes it. He is exactly as your parents told you he’d be, all those years ago. Of course, they were right. They always are.

When he catches sight of you at his door, his distant eyes morph, and his lip tugs into a scowl. The rise of his brows ruffles your feathers with an infuriating ease. “Is there something you want?” he asks. His tone is infuriating, too. It’s the kind of question that means much more beyond the words said. You catch exactly what he means—how he intends to get under your skin.

Hidden behind the door, he has one hand on the handle. It's an unspoken thing, too. He wants you to remember that he could close it. You can’t let him, or else you’ll have drug your pretty new furry winter boots through the powdered snow for him to slam a door in your face. “Yeah, actually. There is.” You run preening fingers through the ends of your hair. “We’re partners for the bake-off.”

“I don’t do the bake-off,” he says. His eyes would be chocolate and smooth if it weren’t for the way he wields them sharp. “Sorry. You’re gonna have to find somebody more your speed for that.”

Barking an incredulous, perhaps even snobby, laugh, you look around. Snow comes down on the ground, sweet and creamy. It’d been enough of a battle to come here. If you were going to give up so easily, you would’ve turned your little bottom around perhaps two hours ago. Does he think you hadn’t considered that? It was a long walk; you had plenty of time to mull over the many things he might do. Sometimes, you imagined him diplomatic and affable. You stomped those wispy thoughts out. Perhaps it’s been years since you’ve spoken with him, and perhaps what happened between the two of you is dusted over, but you know better. Here he stands in front of you: bitter as ever. 

“You’re just gonna leave me without a partner?” you say. Your jaw trembles, seized finally by the cold. “Everybody is already paired up. Literally everybody.”

Shrugging, he says, “I don’t see how that’s my problem. I didn’t sign up for it.”

Your brows knit. That means somebody else had signed him up. You have a sneaking suspicion who might’ve—Blueberry Kai always tells you that he just feels excluded. It’s hard not to laugh when he does. Taehyun? Excluded?  He is exactly where he wants to be. Where most are sweet in Strawberryland, the snappy gingerbread finds it easier to justify his bitterness when he lives off in his little gingerbread home, out and away in his own neck of the forest only to be found by a winding gumdrop road, where he can pretend he’s above it all.

It’s entirely ironic. Him, better than you? Gingerbread, and all his ruggedness? His unpolished edges? Once, you’d believed that the two of you weren’t so different. That you could be friends, even. Seeing what he’s grown to be, you think you understand why your parents stepped in. Back then, though, as just that soft little girl who followed the charismatic boy around with crystal stars in your eyes, it had been the worst thing to ever happen to you. He had been so gravity-defying, moving through the soft, marshmallow edges and the sugar-whipped reality of Strawberryland as something different.

No. Not gravity-defying. Rather, in the powdery and sweet sweet Strawberryland, you think that he is the only thing with gravity.

“That’s not fair.”

“Not fair?” he echoes, letting a little patronizing laugh out along with it. “That’s sweet.”

It’s hard not to shift or cross your arms over your chest, abraded by the dripping sneer.

“What? It’s not. It’s not fair that, just because you don’t want to at least give it a try, I can’t participate,” you say. Really, you should just crawl back home and beg to join somebody’s duo, but you can’t lose like that. You can’t lose to him. If you leave it like this, then he’ll have gotten the better of you. 

“Can’t get everything we want, huh?” he says, straightening up and taking the door in his hand once more. “Just because everybody else has bent backward to give you what you want doesn’t mean that I will.”

“Wait,” you say, sighing in a white swirl. “Don’t close the door. Don’t you know your manners? It’s rude. You’re just going to let me freeze out here? I walked all the way out here, and even got snow all over my new boots, just for this, just for you to slam a door in my face? I mean, a gentleman would at least invite me in to warm me up.”

Lips twitching into a laugh and his eyes suddenly alight, he says, “A gentleman, huh?” He pulls the door open a little further. The warmth from his home, warm and spiced and oh-so-inviting like oven-warmed gingerbread, brushes over your twinkling skin. “Sure. Show me your manners, then. I want you to ask me nicely.”

Your jaw tightens. Sending him a once over, sharpening your eyes, you decide to just do it. His tone is nasty, but you don’t want to be disqualified for not having a partner. Even if he’s the worst you could’ve been paired with in all of Strawberryland. Or maybe the best, because it’s a gingerbread house competition this year. “Will you just do it?”

“I said ask nicely. Say please.” 

He wears a mean smile—he’s having fun watching you squirm. So, you make a conscious effort to straighten up. “Will you please be my partner for the competition?” you say, making your voice sugary and batting your eyelashes in an overdone way. He thinks he’s funny.

Stepping out of the doorway, he motions you inside. It might look gentlemanly if it weren't for the sting in his eyes. You swallow down petty words and push through, your arms full with supplies. Arms aching, you finally let them clatter down over the countertop. The inside of his home is fresh-baked and spiced, aromatic like a true gingerbread cookie straight from the oven. You’re sure the glowing fire helps carry the smell in warm air. It wraps your cold bones up and smooths over some of the frayed edges. You’d been out there for so long… Nobody else had to walk that far for their partner.

Better just to get this done as quickly as you can. You just have to put up with him today, and you’ll be done, and then you can have fun with the competition. He won’t even show up for it; you’re sure. 

“I’ll do it all if it’s that big of a deal,” you tell him, laying out the walls and warming the icing between your palms. “You can put the peppermint on, I guess. So then we can say we both worked on it.”

Hair the fluffy brown of true gingerbread and dusted with snowflakes like powdered sugar. Taehyun shakes his head, and it moves with him. “No,” he says, the corners of his lips still turned up as though he knows something you don’t. He rolls the sleeves of his gaudy, knitted Christmas sweater up to his elbows. The corded muscle there, flickering with movement, catches you off guard. Gingerbread, built like that? Tearing your eyes off him with the effort of metal tearing itself from a magnet, you watch him approach the kitchen counters. “I’ll help. We’re partners, right?”

No matter what he says, there’s a twist of something sparkling in those sharp eyes that has you watching him closer—has you trying to gauge exactly what he’s playing at. “Uh… Yeah. Sure. If you want to, I guess.” You gesture at the walls. “Two for us, and ten for display. Can you start the walls?”

“Ten?” he says. “We’re making twelve gingerbread houses?”

With your lips pulled taut, you say, “Yeah… Twelve. Is that too much? I didn’t think any amount of gingerbread houses would be too much for you. That’s a little ironic.” Everything is warm in his home—even when you look down at your own hands to tug off your white woolen gloves, your skin that usually sparkles like frost rests just beneath the surface is tinged with the warmth.

“I can handle it just fine,” he says, taking the wall and base sections of one. “Just wouldn’t want you to ruin your pretty outfit. Twelve is a lot of icing.” He spits the word pretty out like it tastes bad. On his tongue, you’re sure it does. He never cared for pretty things the way you do. Your mommy always said that he was just jealous, but when the both of you were little, before your parents’ meddling, you learned that it was just a different lifestyle. One that you don’t understand, perhaps. Who doesn’t enjoy dressing themselves in lush furs and sugar crystals over their necks? 

“I’ll be fine,” you say, snipping the tip of the piping bag open. “I wore these knowing they’d get dirty. They’re my baking clothes. My boots already got all messed up…” 

“Oh,” he says. “You put on cashmere knowing you’ll get it dirty. Mommy and daddy paid a pretty penny for that, huh? And it’s your throwaway outfit?”

“Look. If you like it so much, I’ll let you have it when we’re done, yeah? Maybe you’ll make a pretty penny off selling it.” You ice a warm white line down the length of a wall. “Can you hurry? I’m already icing. I don’t want to be here all day.”

There’s  a few long, thrumming moments of quiet, where only the sound of your piping back crackling fills his home. Finishing a wall, you tear yourself away from your work to spare a glance his way.

Taehyun’s jaw is tight, a muscle flickering where he grits his jaw in the low light that washes over him. There’s a fire blazing in his eyes, and though he doesn’t turn them on you, the smoke rolling from them is enough to make your skin warm. You’d successfully gotten under his skin. Why stop here, when seeing that look on his face is so fun? He looks as sour as an apple; as spiced as cinnamon. “Wall?” you say, sharp and haughty as you offer your hand out to him in an impatient demand.

Snapping his head up, he hands you a wall with the heat of a thousand ovens in his face. You feel the scald he intends for you with it, and you revel in it.

You bark commands at him, watching his shoulders grow tense and his lips twitch with each. Crush the candy canes, you tell him. Melt the icing. Sprinkle these over that. Soon enough, you’re sitting back and watching him work more than anything.

He doesn’t say a word. You see them brimming in his eyes, but he doesn’t let them burst out all venomous like you know he wants to. It’s quite the show. 

“Would you at least help me hold this up?” he says, holding the walls of a house together with one hand. His hands are a mess of runny sugar and powdered sugar for snow, and yours are perfectly clean. You can at least help a little bit if you want to claim any part in the competition. 

You reach for the piping bag, fat with the sweet sweet icing, and straighten a wall up. You trace the seams with it, thick and like glue. With a bit too much pressure, the side of the bag bursts. White rivulets of slow icing run down your fingers and over the table. You curse, dropping it to the counter. That’s all of your icing, flopped down and deflating over the surface all sad-like. It’d been so much, that you thought it would last you each house and then some. Of course, you hadn’t brought extra.

Bringing your sticky fingers up to your mouth, you suckle the mess off. It’s so very sweet—warm and weeping, nutty and spiced with something like nutmeg. It’s Taehyun: the smell of it, the way it spreads over your tongue… You stick your tongue out to catch it where some drips down your forearm. “Mmm,” you say, sticky-armed. “Tastes good.” That’ll be good on the gingerbread houses; maybe the two of you do have a chance at winning. 

When you look up to Taehyun, he stands frozen in place, his hands still holding up a half-constructed gingerbread house. His eyes are different. It’s a look you don’t recognize—a look you’ve never seen before. Rather than deep and warm, his eyes are blackish and heavy. A swallow goes down his throat; a tense, barely contained thing.

 You frown, your lips still a sugary mess. “I didn’t mean to make a mess. Sorry. I’ll clean it up…”

Clearing his throat, Taehyun says, “Yeah…”

He watches you clean the counters, where the icing had pooled, and now the bag is empty, with the same intensity. You can feel it on your skin in a foreign, itching way. You swipe and scoop and work at the spill, and still, he watches. He does not speak. 

You survey the houses you’ve managed to finish. They’re pretty, and absolutely competition ready: looping swirls of icing like shingles on the roofs, peppermint chunks all red and white catching light where you’d sprinkled them into the frosting, gumdrops lining the paths true to Taehyun’s own home, and powdered sugar sifted over the entirety of it like snowfall. It’s all great, but there are only four.  “What are we supposed to do now?” you say, lips pouty. “That’s all the icing I brought. We literally can’t make any more.” You wipe at a smear on your cheek. How’d that get there? “I think I’m gonna have to come back tomorrow… Can you hold on to the houses for me?”

“Yeah—yeah, sure. Tomorrow,” he says, blinking something away. He straightens. “It’s a long walk. I think you should get going.”

You want to say something snarky or ask him why he wants you out of the house so fast, but it’s true. Night’s creeping over Strawberryland, and you have no icing, and tomorrow’s the last day before the bake-off. If the two of you don’t work harder tomorrow than you did today, then you won’t even make qualifications. You’ll lose before even starting.

You never lose. Not like this, and certainly not to the man standing before you. 

ꕀ

“C’mon. You can do better than that, can’t you?” Taehyun says, drooping icing from rooftops like icicles as you sprinkle crushed candies over the top. 

You grit your teeth. If he’d been snappy yesterday, he’s made it his mission to be your worst nightmare today. You think it’s his sort of revenge for ordering him around how you did. “What would you like, then?” you say. Maybe it’s feeding right into what he wants, but your life has lent you a short fuse. “You don’t even care about winning. Why does it matter? Let me do it how I want.”

He’s in another sweater. The sleeves are bunched up to the elbow just like yesterday, but you think he’s making a point with it this time. The shifting of his muscles is a bit too intense for piping icing. You’d made it through three more houses, wrangling your inner demons with each passing snide remark or nasty smile the whole time. It doesn’t help that he keeps his home terribly toasty, and you run cold down to the core. You melt and melt until all that is left of your temper is a puddle on the floor beneath you. Gone. 

“We’re partners, remember?” he says. He doesn’t even look at you as he says it. “I don’t do things half-assed, Frosty.” 

You’re sent reeling with the old nickname. It’d been sweet then, back when it was just the two of you against the world, but now it’s gone sour like milk. It even comes from his mouth soured. It’s something that you thought you’d left a million lifetimes ago, never to hear again. With Taehyun, though, it’s hard to pretend that you are no longer that. 

He will not let you forget that, at one point, the two of you were friends. An unlikely pair, especially looking at you now. You thought it was all nothing to you, but seeing him has kicked up dust. 

“You don’t?” you say, shooting him a quick glare from the side of your eye. “That’s funny.”

Strong brows shooting up, Taehyun quits mid-piping to look at you. “Funny? What’s funny about it to you?”

You can’t settle the obnoxious smile that curls at the edges of your mouth, mean and taunting and falsely sweet. “Oh, nothing.” You shake a sifter full of powder against your palm. It falls like true snow down over the house. 

“No, tell me,” he says, his eyes trained and heavy on your dismissive shrug. “Tell me what you think of me. I wanna hear it.”

Oh, this will be good.

“It’s just that,” you say, “you’re not really known for doing things the best way, you know? Living all the way out here, an ass when anybody tries to talk to you… Well, really, it’s just that nobody likes you. But, don’t worry! I’m sure there’s at least somebody that does.”

His face falls, the twinkle of delight at taunting you that he’d been holding in his eyes gone away. All that’s left is the peaking of something deeper and roiling from out of the cracks. You get the funny feeling that maybe you’ve taken it a step too far.

But, you never lose.

“Is that what it is?” he says. “I work for my shit. You? Everything you’ve ever had has been handed to you.” He measures his words delicately. Like a measuring cup full over the top, he cuts the excess words and coarseness off. He doesn’t say all that he thinks, but you see all he leaves unsaid toiling furiously behind his eyes. 

His eyes. They’re clear and, sharp as they are, they pin you. It’s a reflection of that look he gave you yesterday: deep and swirling and wild. It’s more than that, this time, though. It’s laced with anger and bursting at the seams of him. You’re not sure he’ll be able to hold back whatever it is that storms just beneath his skin, this time.

“It is,” you say, punctuation your words concisely. “It’s exactly why my parents said I shouldn’t hang out with you. They said that I’m above… all this.”

Oh, you’ve absolutely taken it too far now. You don’t really mean it. Sure, that’s what they told you, but you don’t really believe it. For some time, you did, but not now. It’s too late for sorries, though. Taehyun’s jaw goes tense.

For a long, awful moment, you just stand there and burn in his silence. It’s worse than any words he might spit. It’s hot—hot, hot, hot, and you turn liquid in it.

In a blink, nothing more, you collide against his countertop. Something clatters and thuds behind you. The gingerbread houses? That doesn’t matter right now—all that your dizzy mind can manage is his body crushing you and his fingers biting into the plush of your cheeks.

Where he had fractured, like true gingerbread, he snaps. You can see it in his eyes; even you know when you’ve pushed too far. Perhaps you ought to have seen this coming.

His knuckles curl white around the edge of the counter beside you, and his fingers dig deeper into your face. He’s oh-so-hot up against you. “I’m sick of your fucking mouth,” he snarls. His breath is hot as it fans over your face, too. “Someone needs to put you in your place. Where are your goddamn manners?”

Your heart thrums in your chest, and your pulse goes wild in your neck. You can’t form the words to answer him.

“Quiet now, huh?” he says. The husk in it makes the place between your thighs feel weird. You don’t know what’s wrong with you.

He shut you up real quick. You’ll give him that.

That funny feeling does flips, roaring to life when his fingers hook under the waistband of your bottoms. “That’s your problem.” His eyes send a chill up and down your spine. “You’ve never been told no. You’ve always gotten what you wanted.” Peeling down all the layers, he tugs your knitted stockings and your little fur skirt, and your sweet frosty panties, too. They bunch at your feet. Between your thighs, right where those foreign, throbbing waves reign, cool air laps at a wetness there. The hair all over your body rises. You’ve never felt anything like it. “Not with me. I'll set you straight. I don’t put up with spoiled brats.”

“I’m not a brat,” you say. “You’re just an ass.” They’re the first words that come to you. Damn your temper.

With the same hand he’d been holding your face in place with, he curls his fingers right into your scalp and yanks hard, baring your neck to him. You lose a strained squeak, tears pricking the corners of your eyes at the sting. If your heart had been racing before, it runs wild, now. You strain your eyes to look at him and his curled lips. Painted with a sneer, he says, “Watch your mouth.”

A swallow goes down your throat hard. It’s all unfamiliar: the aching between your thighs, the burning in your blood, and the dazing of your thoughts. “Taehyun, I… I feel weird. It feels weird.”

Something knowing passes over him. “Yeah?” he says. “Show me where. I can help.”

Show him? You hesitate, searching his eyes for an ounce of joke or aversion. You find none, and that pounding is syrupy-sweet, and he says he can help. That’s all you want; all you need. Taking a trembling hand, you bring it down your body, running the palm down the planes of your belly and resting it just over the spot where the lower bit gives way to the apex of your thighs. Going any further—the thought tightens your throat and pinkens your cheeks the color of strawberry frosting. “There. It feels weird there.”

Taehyun smiles a snappy, spiced smile. He likes that. “Want me to make it feel better?”

Your thoughts feel replaced by something powdery and weightless. You give him a dumb nod.

“Say please.”

Something bratty crawls up your throat, but you want help, and he’s the one who will give it to you. He’d meant that: teaching you a lesson. Melted around the edges already, you say, “Please, help make it feel better.” Your voice wavers.

“There we go. That’s how good girls talk. That’s how you ask to get what you want.” He nudges your thighs apart with a knee and slots it between them, pressed right up against that coolness. Right up against that need. “Grind down on it.”

Neck aching at the angle, you say, “Grind?”

He brushes his clothed thigh right up against you. The friction is delicious—sweet and melty and just what you need. It shoots yellow sparks throughout you.

It feels so good. Your mouth waters in anticipation.

“Grind,” he says. It’s harder, this time. Not a sweet suggestion.

You bring yourself back down on it, gasping at the contact, and you do. You grind, tummy tightening at every brush of the fabric hard and delicious. Your chest constricts, one hand flying up to dig your fingers into his shoulder and the other fighting the hand he has still in your hair. It aches and hurts, and so does the friction as you grow more gaspy and frantic. 

It feels so, so good. You want more—you want him to touch you there and everywhere else. He smells just right all over you, nutty and musky like a gingerbread twist. “Taeh—hyun,” you mewl. It burns, but something slick eases the burn a little bit. Just enough for you to enjoy that burn.

“That’s it,” he coos. It’s not a sweet coo; it’s the type of sound one might make when you play right into their mean game. It’s mean. “Make yourself a mess on my thigh. I don’t even have to touch you. What would mommy and daddy think of you now, huh? What would they think if they saw their precious princess fucking herself on my thigh?”

No. That would be the end of you. You whine, thighs twitching. Something twists in your center, scary and foreboding, and still you chase it. None of your thoughts are solid enough to stop. Each time he flexes a muscled thigh or presses it harder into you, you shudder and curl your fingers into his shirt harder. 

“Don’t like that, huh?” he laughs. “Then you haven’t learned your lesson. You’re no better than me; I mean, look at you.”

You want to cry when he pins your hips back to the counter, stilling your wild bucking. Squeezing your eyes shut, you claw and reach for that wave, even as it recedes from you. “Why?” you say, voice thin. It’d been so yummy—the sweetness still rests on your tongue. Your heart thumps hard, longing for it.

“I said, look at yourself,” he growls, taking his hold on your hair to crank your head down.

Right where you’d been on his thigh, there’s a sticky, marshmallowy mess. Your mess. 

Taehyun releasing his grip on your hair is almost a relief, but he doesn’t even give you time to relish it. The walls of his house blur around you. All that you register in between the motions is his shoulder in your belly and your limbs dangling from you. You dig your hands into his back to balance yourself, but he’s got you.

He has you slung over his shoulder. He’s carrying you like you weigh nothing at all. That place between your thighs flutters anew. In all your life, you never worried too much about the plushness of your belly or your thighs. It is who you are; all mallow and soft around the edges and starkly sweet. But you did get nervous when somebody tried picking you up. Usually, you protest and giggle it off. Watching somebody strain to pick you up when they lift other girls like sacks of flour is just something that makes you feel a little strange.

But, Taehyun does not strain. He doesn’t huff; he carries you right down the hallway and into his room, and he even manhandles you down onto the bed with a bounce without so much as a sound. He is a solid pillar beneath you, and then he is a solid, muscled chest above you. With strong fingers, he pins your hands to the mattress above you. With the other, he leads your shirt up.

He’s so warm against your cold skin. His breath like waves from the oven over your mouth, he says, “You think you’re so much better than me because you have all this?” Curling his fingers around a necklace circling your throat, he tears it off with a clattering of a few snow-drop beads.

 You gasp, glaring right into his eyes. “What the hell?” you hiss, arching your chest to wiggle beneath him. Your necklace. Who does he think he is, breaking your stuff? That was one of your favorite necklaces, and now it lies all over his floor. Still, your center pounds and longs for the return of his touch. Everything about him just calls for more from you. You don’t know how you went so long without him, or how you made yourself forget just how drawn you are to his magnetism. Maybe he is just what your parents turn their nose up at, and you too, but that does not make him any less a powerful personality. 

He knows exactly who he is and what he wants, as solid as the gingerbread cookie. And you, plush and impressionable as whipped marshmallows, take to him just right. It’s something you once knew, but the sneered words of adults obscured that memory.

“Don’t whine,” he says. “I want to see your pretty neck without all that shit. That’s your problem: you’re spoiled.” He reaches down to mess with his pants.

His length springs free. Cheeks flushing, you take it in. You can’t look away, even as embarrassment crawls spindly legs over your skin at the interest you take in the sight. You’ve never seen anything like it—long and hot and weeping something thick and white from the slit at the pinkish tip. A pearl of it dribbles down, landing on your belly in a string where he holds it.

Taehyun collects that wetness and then urges more from the tip with a few drags down the length of it. Wrapping his fingers around it, he begins to slowly work his fist up and down it. It’s nothing short of impossible to tear your sights off it—it’s another thing that inexplicably fans the flames of something roaring in your center. “Do you want to touch it?” he says, watching your tongue dart out to wet your lips. 

The sight of him growing restless over his pumping fist is enough to get you nodding. 

“Fuck,” he says, sharp and under his breath. He lets his hand off it. “Go ahead. Touch it. I won’t tell anybody you did.”

When he frees your pinned wrists, you reach out a slow hand. You curl your fingers around it the way he had. Your fingers don’t even touch around jt. The weight and warmth of him in your palm makes your blood tingle. Looking up, you search for guidance in those intelligent, swirling eyes. His bangs hang over his eyes as he watches.

Placing his hand over yours, he drags it up and down his rigid length the way he had been doing a few beats ago. “Like that,” he says. “Just like that.”

You pump your closed fist up and down him, encouraged to squeeze harder and flick your wrist faster with each tight breath he lets slip. The skin of your palm gets stickier and stickier, the slick sounds sending your ears and core burning just the same. You like that it makes him feel good—that he’s making those noises just for you. 

He twitches under your fingers. “Feels just like I thought your pretty hands would…” he says, stomach tight. “See—what happens when you give up that bratty fucking act? Shit… harder—give it to me harder, Frosty…” Shivering at the name, you oblige him. You reach your thumb up and collect more of that beaded liquid from the slit, and you work your arm harder. Faster. Your forearm begins to burn, but you don’t let it slow you. All you want is more of this; more of him. Finally, he lets sounds out from his chest freely. He grunts and hisses through his teeth, letting his head fall back. “Holy shit. I’m gonna—gonna ice your face, okay?” he says. “You said you liked the taste, huh? Wanna taste it again? Give me your tongue…”

Whatever that means, you push yourself up and situate your face in front of his length, your tongue out. Taehyun’s sounds tighten, and his hips begin to stutter and chase your hand. He picks his head back up to look down at you half-lidded—to watch. With only a few last runs of your palm down his length, skin so slick that your hand just slips and slides up him, he growls through gritted teeth. The weight of him in your working hand twitches once more, and from that weeping tip he shoots dancing ribbons of white. It lands on your tongue hot and sweet, melting out all spiced and snappy.

Snappy like gingerbread. Like gingerbread icing. Swallowing it down, you meet his gaze. He pants, chest rising and falling, but there’s something clear and knowing in his heavy eyes when you do. You think you know now, why he’d been so dazed as you made a show of licking that same sticky icing off your hands and said how good it tasted. 

When you release him from your palm, it glistens with his sweet essence. He softens in front of your eyes just the littlest bit.

Eyes just as hungry and still catching his breath, Taehyun says, “Open your mouth. I wanna see your tongue.”

Belly doing wicked twists, you do. You stick your tongue out for him, still laden with the headiness of his taste. He does taste good. 

“Swallowed it all down?” he says, eating the sight of you with your mouth dropped open up. “You really are so nasty. They all think you’re so sweet—you think you’ve got them all wrapped around your finger.” He pushes you back down to the bed with a palm. “Well, not me. I know that you’re just as filthy as you are spoiled. Somebody had to deal with you.”

Like always, snarky words swirl in your mouth. All it would take is letting them fall off your tongue. But you don’t—not with the feeling between your thighs, and not with the way your blood, frost turned to snowmelt, begs for him to fix it. Not when you know that all it will get you is more of Taehyun’s wrath. 

It’s not like what he says is true, or anything. That’s what you tell yourself anyway.

“Taehyun, please. I need it…” He takes a marshmallow thigh of yours, pressing it up so that it melds with your belly. Cool air reminds you once more of that strange wetness between them.

Dark, blown eyes catching the sight of it, his lips quirk into a scoff. “Need what?” he says, reaching a hand down. At the contact of his fingers, just as they had against his thigh, your hips jolt and an explosion like the breaking of sugar glass shoots down the muscles of your thighs. He scoops that stickiness up from its source, bringing the soft cream up to his mouth. Tongue darting out, he has a taste of you just as you had tasted him. “Shit—you taste good too, frosty. You’re so sweet, how’d you turn out like this? That’s okay. I’ll deal with you, and then you’ll be just as sweet as you taste.” That fat tip of him presses flush to the source of all your want. “I’ll straighten you out.”

You don’t know what that means, and you are absolutely sure that you don’t deserve it, but any sass is staunched with the utter sweetness of the stretch in your center. Taehyun presses his hips up into you, slowly and internalizing the dropping open of your mouth, the pinching of your brows into a worrying line, and the press of your palms to his broad chest. He takes it and metabolizes it down like cream cake or the plumpest fruits, and he gives you more. More, all the way up until there is no length of him left to give, and nowhere else for him to go.

You feel so, so full. No amount of twinkling jewels or new skirts hold a candle to this. You don’t know what it is, and you don’t know why Taehyun knows, but whatever. Who cares? Breathing out a shudder, you squirm beneath him to search for that dazzling feeling he’d made you feel earlier.

“Stay still,” he barks, steadying himself beside your head with a sturdy, powerful arm. When had he lost his sweater? You don’t know. You might drool over the definition and warm skin there if he didn’t pull the length of him out until just the tip of him threatens to pop out, and then drive right back in before you could. A gaspy breath falls from your mouth, devolving into mewls and whimpers when he does the same over and over and over again, quick with snapping hips and the smacking of his skin against the soft skin of your bottom. Your thigh quivers in his hold, his fingers digging into the fluff of your thigh as he holds you into it. 

Each and every time he slides up against something inside you that makes you feel different. Different from what you felt when you were on his thigh, and different from anything else you’ve felt in the entirety of your life. It’s deeper, right at the very bottom of your belly, sending your veins lazy and your hips twitchy. You want to chase it as much as you want to hide from its power, so all you do is stay in a hazy limbo of sharp gasps and long, drawn out mewls for more.

“No,” he says, his face right in yours. The smell of him, manly and so very sweet like oven-warmed gingerbread, settles over your bones and wiggles its way through your thoughts. It does something to your melted mind, planting a need to cling to him right in the center. Your hands perch all over him: the hair at the back of his head, his working waist, his biceps that flex and strain with his effort, and finally around him so that you can push your cheek to his chest and feel his heart racing there. “You’ll take exactly what I give, and thank me for it. You don’t get to ask for more; not with your mouth.”

“Why?” you say, whining. “I want it—so bad. Please? I’ll be so… so good…” Your voice bounces with each collision of your bodies, and your toes flex and curl at the twisting in your core. Nonetheless, you want more. Whatever this is—this syrupy, pure goodness—Taehyun has shown you something that you will never be whole without again. He has bloomed a flower right in the chest of you, something hungry that will want and want this, and you fear that he will be the only one able to satiate it. 

The thought of the smile he’ll wear, should you come crawling back to his doorstep just for this… 

Taehyun stops, pushing off you with a curled lip. “What will it take to get you to fucking listen?” he says. He pulls himself from you, leaving you to whine and long for that feeling once more. You want to complain and pull him back over you, but with the fire churning in his dark gaze and the sight of his length, covered in that same white, whipped stuff you’d left all over his thigh. 

You’d made a sticky, frosty, frothed mess all over him once again. Really, what would people think of you now? Your mom? Your dad? 

Manhandling you again, he flips you onto your hands and knees and shoves your face into the bed. Any yelp or gasp that tears from your chest is muffled into the sheets. Taking the swell of your hips, his fingers like bites against the powdery, soft skin there, his voice comes from behind you. “Won’t you just listen to me? If you’re gonna be mine, you’re gonna have to start learning how to hear no.” Curling your hair up and pulling it like a handle, he snaps your head back into another stinging, awful tug. It turns the arch of your back into something that you can imagine is a sight to be seen. If the burning where you feel his eyes raking down the curve of it has something to speak of it, that is. You squeeze your eyes shut as if that’ll help you any. “You don’t get everything you want. That’s not how this works.”

You don’t say anything. You have nothing good or sweet left to say.

“Say thank you, and I’ll give it to you good, okay?” he says, running a flattened hand down your spine. “That’s all I want to hear. Show me you can be good.”

The last thing you want to do is to thank him. That would mean admitting that you’ve lost, and that ruffles your preening feathers. But you want that goodness back, you want his hips snapping into you and that tight knot back in your belly. You’d do anything for it; even forget your ego.

Your mind is gone, anyway. Whatever your rational self would do, it doesn’t matter. There’s one thing that you want right now, and getting it is so easy. “Thank you, Taehyun. Thank you so much… I’m sorry I’ve been a brat, and I’m sorry about what I said to you. Please, just… help me. Please, I need you so bad.”

You? Sorry? It’s absurd, and yet, you entirely mean it. Maybe it’s your lazy brain talking, or maybe he really has won.

“See? So sweet when you act right,” he says. “Let me show you what happens when you do.”

You could cry real tears when he sets that same pace, his hands bracing on your hips to pull you deeper into each thrust and the front of your body bouncing against the sheets with each. Your cries grow hoarse and beyond needy, and your insides twist and turn even more dangerously.

You are on the brink of something divine. Something that will melt down so well, good on the tongue and as smooth as chocolate, but as sharp as the snapping of gingerbread.

And, snap, he has.

“Yes!” you cry, straining your shoulders as you reach behind you and curl your fingers around the place where he meets your skin. “S..So good! Right there—thank you, Taehyun!”

He doubles down on you. His length hits a spongy spot in your core, pounding up against the walls there and turning your insides against you. It’s almost too good. “There we go,” he says, voice shaking with a growl. The delivery of his thrusts grows sloppy. You think he feels just as good as you do. “That’s what—” Falling over you, he supports himself with each strong arm dug into the mattress beside your head, his solid front melded to your soft back. “That’s what I like to hear. Here you go—fuck, I’m gonna give you what good girls get, okay?”

You hope it’s more of that melty icing he shot from his length earlier. The knot in your belly tightens, just on the brink of a glittery, bright explosion. “Mhm!” you say, your voice cracking. You want it—you want it so bad. The intensity of it, turning over in your veins and rendering your thighs jelly, sings in your ears. It’s a frightening greatness, but you rage against the urge to drop your hips into the mattress and run from it. You need to finally taste what you’ve been chasing. “Taehyun! Right there—please, don’t stop!”

You were demanding more from him again, but Taehyun didn’t stop this time. Not when his growls and whines against your shoulder tell you enough about how he’s feeling. He tongues and nips at your shoulders, the only sounds echoing off the walls of his room, the hollow smack of his hips against your bottom, and the only smell of the sweet mingling of his gingerbread sharpness against your heady marshmallow. It’s good enough to eat.

Crying out with a frantic whine, the feeling deep in your belly changes once more, and you’re writhing and squirming against him. Your hips buck and chase and run, wild and just as explosively as the tightness shooting down your thighs and up through your lower back.

Everywhere. You feel it everywhere. It’s in the continued bouncing of your body, in each nudge of his tip to a sweet, spongecake spot deep inside you, in his breathless pants into your skin, and in the curling of his fingers into your hair when he releases a hip to do so, and in your pleads when he chases his own delicious release. Your throat tightens, and suddenly the sheets are all too warm around you, and you realize with blistering intensity that another one of those knots builds up in your belly. It’s quicker, short, and bright. You’ve barely even made it through the last, but still, it comes.

“Holy shit,” he growls, hips stuttering and then stilling. He reaches a hand down between your thighs and finds a very sweet button. The breath in your throat catches, and in nothing more than a blink of an eye, you crash again, and then your bodies are two twitching, elated things. He presses himself impossibly deeper into you before shooting that same hotness, sweet ropes of sugary icing right into you, and your fluttering insides hold him tight and eat it up. Your heart pounds in your chest, running amok in your ears and your neck, and you try to catch running breaths to no avail.

Occasionally grinding up into you, though there is hardly any space between your joined bodies to do so, Taehyun shoots more lazy spurts for a few long moments. His breaths slow against your skin, and yours do in your chest. Slowly, you recover as two entangled bodies, all clammy and melted like left in the oven for a bit too long.

Pressing hot, wet kisses to the back of your neck, and then down your spine when he pushes off you and pulls himself out, his tongue darting out against your skin for some, he says, “Taste so good… So sweet, even on your skin…” He brushes the wild tangles of hair from your face and adds, “I wonder if you’ve gone all sweet inside, too? You look like it…” The mess of you, your thick creaminess staining your thighs and his runny load pooling from your hole, is all over. It even makes the sheets beneath you dirty with dribbles of his release as it drips. “I told you I’d get you sweet.”

If that sluggish, sugary thing moving through your veins is sweetness taking over you from the inside, perhaps you have gone sweet. Or, perhaps you now have every reason to become his worst nightmare—just if it gets you this.

You’ll play sweet for now. The softer kisses he seasons your skin with are no less enthralling than the delightful goodness still ebbing away between your thighs. You think that, for the first time, you have lost. 

And, to your very own dismay, it tastes so very sweet. 

... back to the masterlist ⌇ back to strawberryland

✎୭ ashlynn's note BRAT TAMER TAEHUN, amirite?

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[stuckinmymind22]

zoro x gn! reader

wc: 663

this is the first part of a series "you're in love with me" where you realize that they are in love with you can call them out on it

thanks for voting on this one, i had fun with it, sorry it took so long, i got busy with the holidays, but it’s here now 💕

ace's is done and will be up probably tomorrow and i'm gonna start on sanjis, but lmk if you are interested in any other characters

not proof read lol

this goes one of two ways, in both you're being called stupid, both included

it's a chose your own adventure babe!

zoro has been acting strange recently- he was almost too quick to come to your aid, even if it was something you both knew you could handle alone. he’s also been making sure that you eat. recently he brought up a plate for you when you were on duty in the crow’s nest. sure, the tips of his ears and the apples of his cheeks were tinted pink, but that was easy to write off as a consequence of the alcohol that was surely in his veins. but he didn’t leave right away like you thought he would, he stood on the ladder without moving until he saw you take your first bite. on the last island there had been a miscalculation in your provisions and the ship was running dangerously low on alcohol. there was no doubt that the crew was going to run dry shy of meeting their next destination, which was a bigger deal to some of the straw hats than others. it all brings you to the moment he offers you a sip of the last bottle of sake. you’re speechless. you always thought that hell sure would freeze over before he shared his booze and here he is willingly offering you some. you’re trying to figure out what was going on in his head, why he has been acting so strange, then it hits you.  “you’re in love with me.”

denial is a river in egypt

“did you hit your head or sum?” he asks, trying to remain as impartial as possible, but you didn’t miss how he nearly choked at your words. “no, zo, this makes sense,” you say connecting the dots, "you've been acting real weird about me recently, this explains it." you aren’t about to back down from this, not after you wanted this for so long, not until he admits it to himself. “you’re being an idiot,” he rolls his eyes, “do you want some or not?” with a smile you grab the bottle out of his hand and take a swig, sitting down next to him. “i don’t mind you know,” you say taking another sip, “that you love me that is” zoro is confused why he is so drawn to the dangerous smile that plays on your lips. he shakes himself out of it snatching back the bottle and taking a long gulp. you get pulled away by luffy wanting something, but he still feels your presence.  little do you know how those words haunt him for the rest of the night. fuck, you might be right

he's down bad and he knows it

“n-no I’m not,” zoro sputters, his face alight, “are you stupid or something?” “no, no, this is why you’ve been acting strange,” you say, the weight of your revelation still sinking in. “that’s why you haven’t let me out of your sight for the past week, right?” you don’t give him time to respond (not that he would be able to formulate a coherent response anyway). you continue listing all of his abnormal behaviors and fail to notice how his face grows redder with your every word. poor zoro is sinking into his seat hoping to disappear he’s so uncomfortable. he’s certain that he messed everything up and has no idea what to do now. he knows that you’re right of course, it’s kept him up at night, kept him from his precious naps. it took him a while to realize why you never left his mind, and the determining factor came from the fucking cook spewing some bullshit to a pretty woman on the last island. just when he is certain that he ruined whatever relationship you could ever have you turn to him with a big smile.  “it’s a good thing you are though, or else this would be awkward,” you tell him, before he can even think to question what you mean your lips are on his and his brain malfunctions.  maybe it’ll be alright.

masterlist

[shycloudkitty]

You're too sweet for a monster like me (part 2)

Pairing: Vendetta Leon × Fem reader

Tags: Mentions of depression, overall fluff maybe a bit angsty, Ice skating, Leon being agile af to do that in his first try, a bit inaccurate related to ice skating but spare me🙏 (If you find some mistakes please spare me😭 english is not my native language)

Part 1 of YTS

A/N: The first part did better than I expected, so here's the second part. I have to stop going on hiatus lol. Also, I have never ice skated, though I know rollerblading ☝🤓

Also there are some words in pink and blue, pink are the reader's thoughts, while blue are Leon's thoughts.

Edit: Christmas themed dividers from @/anitalenia

WC: 2.6K

You quietly sigh, rubbing his back while hugging him, trying to make him feel better about himself. In all seriousness you can’t bear to see him like this–Wasting away and giving up.

He can't give up on himself. You can't let that happen.

You turn his face so you can look at him properly and give a soft smile. “Why don't we go out somewhere? It's been a long time since we had a date and Christmas is around the corner. Plus…I think we need a change of scenery. Let's go to a park.”

Leon looked at you a bit surprised and then down at the half empty glass of whiskey, debating with himself if he wanted to go outside.

But you are having none of it. You weren't going to let him stay here and get more depressed than ever. A change of scenery is what you both need.

You give him your best sweet puppy, mustering up in the moment. You add a small pout and make your eyes look sad and say softly. “Please.”

Leon groans immediately, pinching the bridge of his nose when he sees that look—the famous puppy eyes you always use to get your work done every time. “That's cheating.” he says

He never understood why it works. Like he's a grown ass man who has killed dozens of zombies and what not. He should be immune. But, apparently, military life didn't build him for these kinds of attacks.

You innocently smile and say. “What? I'm just politely asking.”

Leon snorts. “Uh huh…right. Your ‘polite asking’ uses emotional blackmail.”

You gasped dramatically, bringing a hand on your chest. “Little ol’ me? Blackmail? Heavy accusations, Mr. Kennedy.”

Leon rolled his eyes, a small smirk tugging at his lips and pulled you in his lap. “Right. You're so innocent.”

You grin and playfully roll your eyes at him. “Of course I'm innocent.”

Leon snorts but doesn't say anything.

You grip his shoulders and shake him lightly. “Oh come on… let's go outside. Look, it's almost Christmas, so there will be pretty decorations. Don't they have that ice rink too? Come on…it’ll be funny kids and their parents falling flat on their faces. ”

You hear him chuckling a bit at your words, his lips curling into a smile and…finally it feels like that the man you knew is in front of you again. Life slowly returning to him…

Leon smirks and says. “Sounds kinda harsh, you know. What did the kids do?”

You roll your eyes. “That's not the point. Can we pleasssseee go?”

Leon sighs and says. “Fine. Fine. But we're just gonna walk around the park…and no ice skating.”

Like hell you guys won't go ice skating.

Leon sees the immediate change in your expression, going from pleading like a puppy to almost elated and he couldn't help but chuckle.

Somehow you were the only one who could bring this side of him no matter how far he was gone. He had always wondered ‘why?’ part of it. But it's probably useless to ask that question by now.

You immediately get up from his lap and take his hand and start tugging him towards the bedroom. “Good, let's get dressed then.”

You both are bundled in warm clothes, walking towards the park hand in hand.

Leon looked down at you, taking in your eager expression to get to the park. You looked adorable–like a kitten. No, literally, you were wearing that cute little pink beanie with kitten ears. That beanie always made him smile no matter what, it looked so childish but suits you perfectly.

He gently flicks at one of the ears and smiles to himself. Doing it again and again till you look up at him with a narrowed-eyed expression and say. “Do it again and I will make you wear this.”

Leon grins to himself, feeling satisfied. He looks ahead, holding your hand tighter and walking towards the park. “Nope, I'm good.”

Soon, you both find yourselves walking in the park, taking in the lively scenery with each other.

People of all ages walking around, kids laughing and playing with their parents or grandparents. It was a bit crowded but it's manageable.

You look up at him with a smile. “This is nice right.”

He nods but doesn't say anything, looking around the snow and decorations, the hustle bustle of people distracts his mind a bit. Maybe this was a good idea. He admits he wouldn't have thought of going to a damn park in the middle of a depressive episode.

You notice his shoulders relaxing, and his facial expressions easing up a bit. Mentally, you pat yourself on the back for the first step to make him feel like his old self again.

You squeezed his hand to get his attention. “Do you like snow?”

Leon blinks then looks down at you. “Oh..uhh… I don't know.” He never really thought about mundane things like this, never had time to do that. Maybe when he was a kid? Probably.

He shrugs. “Eh, never gave it much thought, but if snow gets in between my missions and delays it then maybe? But I'm also a bit frustrated then. So, mixed feelings.”

There were times when his missions got delayed because snow had blocked some crucial areas. He used to be a bit relieved when that used to happen, as it was rare for him to catch a breath but also a bit frustrated that he probably won't be able put an end to the mission on time.

You snort and say. “Do you always think like that? Comparing everything to how it would help in a mission? Doesn't it get exhausting?”

He looks at you with a small frown, a small huff leaving his lips. Well it was exhausting but he's not gonna tell her that. He doesn’t like being called out like this and definitely not by his own damn girlfriend. “Try having a world saving job, then we'll talk, sweetheart.”

You chuckle, knowing he was a bit pissed. “What do you mean? Are you implying that I don't have one?”

Leon raises an eyebrow and scoffs. “Do you?”

You smirk and nudge him. “Going on dates, being with you is a pretty important world saving job, my darlingggg.” sweetening up your voice some more in the end and batting your eyelashes at him.

He rolls his eyes and laughs. God you were so cheesy. He looked down at you with a smile and says. “Yeah, you right. Pretty important job. But I pay you enough cuddles and kisses for it.”

You smile, leaning close and kiss his cheek. “That you do. Here's your payback too.” You definitely see him blushing after that. No matter how much he denies it, it never gets old to see him look away, trying to stifle the wide grin threatening to take over his face. It was cute.

You both reach the makeshift ice rink, Looking around seeing little kids trying to skate with the help of their parents. Falling on their faces but getting up with a big smile on their face and some cried, but most of them were enjoying themselves.

“Jeez, I thought you knew how to stand straight.” he grumbles a bit before holding your waist with both hands to help you balance.

You were clutching his shoulders, desperately trying not to fall. “I'm trying my best okay?! I didn't know ice was this slippery, it's my first ti- Ah!” You slip again, nearly pulling him down with you, but his grip on you was strong enough for you to not fall on your butt.

He grunts, before wrapping his arm around your waist pulling you against his body. “Don't worry, darling, I got you.”

You cling to him like a baby who doesn't know how to walk, falling again and again before you could even take one step. “Don't let me fall, okay?”

He rubs your back, keeping your face buried in his chest. “I have your back, sweetheart.”

Your heartbeat slowly returned to normal, closing your eyes for a moment. “I don't think I can do it, this was a bad idea.”

Leon looks at you, seeing you grumbling & pouting from disappointment. His heart melts from seeing his sunshine upset. He kisses your forehead and smiles. “No, no, no this was a wonderful idea, okay? It's fine you can do it, I'm right here I won't let you fall. Look, see it's my first time too alright. If I can do it then you can too.”

Oh yeah, it was his first time ice skating too and he's doing ten times better than you.

You look up at him from his chest and narrow your eyes. “How are you not falling on your ass like me?”

He chuckled. “What? You want both of us to land in a hospital?”

You rolled your eyes and glared at him light-heartedly. “Nooo but it makes me suspicious. Did you used to do this with your exes?”

Leon burst into a laugh. “Sweetheart, you're like the only stable relationship I ever had. Plus, this is improvising.” He kisses your cheek. “Now come on, I know you can do it.” Giving you a final pat on the back before pulling back.

He had a tight grip as you slowly stood up straight, balancing yourself with his help. You breathe a sigh of relief. “Okay… What do I do now?”

He tilts your chin with his finger, making you look in his blue eyes. “Breathe, you can do it. Your legs are strong enough to skate, don't stand too rigid or you'll fall.”

Slowly, you feel his words empowering you, helping you be more sure of yourself. You feel more confident now, your legs gaining the strength and flexibility needed for ice skating.

Leon smiles seeing you grow more comfortable, his grip then shifts from your waist to both of your hands. “See you're doing it…Good job.”

You look up at him and say. “Yeah but I doubt I will be able to do more than this.”

He chuckles. “Don't worry, you have me…Now just believe in yourself and in me, when I said I won't let you fall I won't. Now, slowly take the first step.” He slowly starts to skate with your hands in his.

Your legs are a bit wobbly at first but you do it, looking in his eyes for reassurance and finding nothing but pure love and encouragement in his eyes.

He slowly nods and smiles at you. “Good… just keep it going.”

Slowly, you start to grow more confident in your footing and follow his steps efficiently. You were still a bit nervous and there were small bumps here and there but you had gotten the hang of it by now.

Leon slowly starts to skate a bit faster, feeling your hand gripping his tightly whenever he does. But he simply squeezes your hand & passes a smile.

Slowly, you both fall into a comfortable pace as you skate together. You grew more confident and laugh softly. “This is great!”

Leon just had a smile of his own watching you laugh and skate with him. It was as if nothing else mattered in this moment, except the two of you. He quietly savored this rare moment of tranquility and peace.

You were sitting on the bench, watching the decorated Christmas tree with lights and ornaments in front of you. Leon said he had something to take care of, so you were waiting for him to come back.

After a few moments, he came back and sat down next to you quietly, watching the tree lights twinkle in front of him with you. He wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close to him.

You shift closer to him and rest your head on shoulder. “Everything alright?”

He slowly nods, kissing your forehead. “Never been more alright than this.” He rubs your sides and continues. “Thank you for today. I really needed this date.”

You smiled up at him. “You're welcome. Although, a part of me did think you were starting to regret it considering how much of a wreck I was at Ice skating.”

You feel his chest rumble as he laughs. “You kidding me? That was the best part!”

You raise an eyebrow and huff, pretending to be mad. “Are you saying, me making a fool out of myself was the best part?”

He was still shamelessly smiling, not regretting anything he said. “Yes, but I also liked the part when I helped you skate.”

You roll your eyes and shake your head. “Fair enough.”

He softly sighed, resting his chin on top of your head. These were the moments that reminds him what he was truly fighting for. He was fighting for moments when you both hugged, kissed, cuddled, roasting each other for fun or when you both were simply together and talked just about anything.

He was fighting for you.

He was fighting to protect that precious smile of yours, to keep that sweet innocence of yours safe from the ugly horrors of the world. And if protecting it meant that he had to be a pawn in bigger scheme of things or that he had to be a monster to fight those who created monstrosity to wreck havoc. He was okay with fighting all of it.

As long as you were safe and sound, he was ready to fight anything that threatened your peace. And he wasn't someone who would go down easily without a fight. Your love made him the bravest soldier.

He blinks, as his train of thoughts stopped when he felt you nudging him. He looked down at you. “Hmm?”

You shrugged. “You want to go home now? It's getting a bit late.”

He paused then smiles. “Actually, there was something.”

You looked at him puzzled. “What is it?”

He smirks, then takes out the small mistletoe from his coat pocket he brought earlier and raised it above their heads and playfully said. “Oh my my, who could have hanged this mistletoe here of all places?”

You could barely contain your grin and continue the ruse. “Hmm…Who could it truly be, Do you know?”

Leon shakes his head, smirking at you while still holding the mistletoe above their heads. “No, but it seems like fate, no? It appeared all of a sudden and that too just for us. How strange…Well anyways it seems like we have to do the tradition now.”

You roll your eyes at him your smile barely contained. “Uh huh. Right. The tradition.” He was so smug, it was taking everything not to laugh in his face.

He grins, seeing you try to control yourself and pulls you closer to his body. “Mmm, that's what the traditions are about after all.” His voice lowering and getting sultry.

Your breathing quickened as his other hand brushes some hair out of your face, his thumb gently caressing your bottom lip. Tilting your face towards him. You give him a smile and softly whisper. “Well then, we have to do it. What are you waiting for?”

He smiled and leaned closer. “To hear that.” And gently presses his lips close to yours, kissing you softly. And it's like the world around you both fades once again. You cup his face and kiss him back, slowly deepening the kiss. He wrapped his arms around you holding you gently in his embrace as he pours all the love he has to give you.

Everything that led upto this moment was all worth it to him.

OMGG Hi everyone!!! Things are a bit hectic but all good. Hope you all enjoy this day. Merry Christmas to anyone who celebrates!!!🎉🎊🎊

-Bella😊

[angrybathbomb]

Leander x gn! reader

MODERN AU

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SUMMARY: A very handsome man who introduces himself as Leander approaches you asking to do your portraits for free. Will you agree?

About the content: fluff, sfw, modern au, Leander is a youtuber who clicks portraits of people he finds eye catching on the street and is down bad for you on first sight lol

------------------------------------

"Excuse me?" 

A smooth, rich voice, warm and velvety, jolts you from your daydream. 

You lift your gaze, eyes tracing upward until they meet his. 

Standing before you is a tall, handsome man with an effortless charm. His sea-green eyes sparkle with a hint of mischief as he gives you a gentle smile.

Too busy admiring the fine specimen of a man in front of you, you almost fail to notice the camera quietly recording the entire interaction. 

An Influencer? Maybe a Youtuber ?

You raise a questioning eyebrow.

"Well, hi," he begins confidently, his tone smooth and unruffled. "I'm Leander."

"Oh," you reply, your voice flat.

He chuckles, a bit sheepish but undeterred by your curt response. 

"I'm a street photographer," he says, gesturing to the camera slung over his shoulder. "I capture portraits of people."

He pauses, pulling out his phone and holding it out to you. "Here, this is my Instagram."

Your gaze drifts over his feed—photos of people from all walks of life. 

Some faces are unique and exotic, others classic and timeless, each image radiating its own quiet beauty.

"I see," but before you can say more, something catches your eye on his profile. Your gaze freezes on his follower count.

His following was in the lakhs. LAKHS!

"What do you want?" you reply, your voice sharper than you intended.

"Uh, well, you see, you caught my eye, and... you’re quite the sight for sore eyes, so—" he begins, the practised charm evident in every word.

"Get to the point," you cut in, unamused.

Sure, he was easy on the eyes , but your stranger-danger senses were stronger than any pull of "pretty privilege" right now.

"Would you mind if I took a few photos of you?" he asks, a hint of hesitation in his smile as he gestures toward his camera.

Cute.

The gesture, of course—not him.

Well, maybe him, too.

A hint of shyness and the blush spreading on his cheeks looks good on him.

You hum thoughtfully. “Are you going to post them?”

“Yeah?” he replies, picking up on your unease.

"Is that a problem?"

Your eyes answer for you. 

He chuckles, noticing that while your mouth remains silent, your expression says it all.

How adorable…

He clears his throat, pausing as he gathers his thoughts.

Usually, he’d offer a polite "it's alright" or "I understand" with a practised smile before moving on. 

He’s willing to make an exception for you though.

"I won’t post those pictures," he reassures.

How could he not have pictures of you? 

You’d caught his eye from across the street, and before he could consciously decide to approach you, his feet had already carried him over.

Hell, he would keep the pictures for himself.

It was better that way—he tells himself.

Yet, as this thought settles, the sudden wave of possessiveness surprises him. 

Why did he feel this way about a stranger?

"Uhm," you say, nervously chewing on your bottom lip.

"It's okay if you don’t want to. I understand—" he replies, mentally sighing as he struggles to hide his reluctance to walk away from you.

"It’s fine," you say, finally standing up. "But I’m not really photogenic, so this might be a challenge." You let out a wry chuckle.

He grins, and for a moment, you swear he resembles a golden retriever.

He winks at you. 

"Oh, I love a good challenge," he replies smoothly.

Especially if the challenge is someone as pretty as you, he thinks to himself, knowing better than to voice that thought aloud for fear of creeping you out.

"Follow me," he says with an enthusiastic grin. "Let’s find a good spot for some great shots."

You trail behind him, eyes shifting subtly to the camera that’s quietly recording.

"Is that... recording?" you ask, trying to keep your tone casual.

Leander catches on quickly. Though he may look laid-back, he’s far from oblivious.

"Yes, sorry for not mentioning it earlier," he says, as if reading your thoughts. "I post behind-the-scenes videos on Insta and YouTube, along with the final shots."

You hum thoughtfully. "I see."

"Do you want me to stop?" he offers, surprising even himself. 

Normally, he wouldn’t compromise. Those BTS videos were part of his success, boosting his follower count to a whopping 17.5 lakhs. 

Yet here he was, making an exception for you. He wasn’t ready to explore why—not just yet.

"No, it’s fine," you say, with a shy yet friendly smile. "I guess that’s part of the fun in all this," you add, gesturing vaguely between the camera and the two of you.

"Yeah, it is," Leander replies with a grin, pleased to see you comfortable enough to go along with something clearly outside your usual comfort zone.

He pauses by a striking tree draped in red blossoms that stand out against the vast, blue sky. "I just realised—I never got your name.”

You give him your name, your eyes following his, towards the beautiful tree he’s been admiring.

You look back at him, only to catch him already staring at you intently.

His eyes are so deep and mesmerising that you could easily lose yourself in them.

Feeling heat rise to your face, you awkwardly redirect your gaze to the tree, not wanting your feelings to be too obvious.

Sensing his eyes still trained on you, you tease, "Click a picture; it’ll last longer."

The comment catches him off guard, but then he bursts into laughter, clearly enjoying your sass. 

“Oh, I will,” he smirks. “Now, how about you pose for me under that tree?” He gestures toward the shade beneath the tree, where the grass is dotted with red flowers that have scattered down from the canopy above.

"How should I—" you ponder aloud as you approach the tree. "Is this okay?" You lean your back against the trunk, folding your arms in front of you, still feeling jittery and awkward.

Leander smiles, ever patient. "Of course," he replies, angling his camera at you. "Now, look somewhere else, as if you’re lost in thought."

You follow his instructions, grateful for his guidance in this moment.

Click. Click.

He smiles as he looks down at the photos, whistling in appreciation.

Curiosity piqued, you take a few steps closer to see the pictures for yourself.

He hands you the camera, and you gasp in surprise.

Is that really you? Sure, you’ve taken a few decent selfies and your friends have occasionally captured good angles, but these were just two quick shots, and he already has some stunning images. It all seemed so effortless.

"Wow, you’re quite the pro," you chuckle, a smile lighting up your eyes.

There’s a hint of mischief in the crinkle of your smile, which prompts a teasing grin from him as he admires you silently.

“Pro?” he replies with mock disapproval. “You make it easy.”

 You raise your hands, amusement dancing in your eyes. "Empty flattery doesn’t work on me."

Leander raises an eyebrow, a playful smirk on his lips. “Good thing I never flatter empty—just like your beautiful smile.”

You scoff under your breath and blush, turning around and pretending to look anywhere but him.

"I'm not done with you yet," he murmurs.

You freeze as you feel his breath brushing against your neck, goosebumps erupting at the rich, velvety cadence of his voice, which has dropped a few octaves lower.

You summon the courage to turn and face him, but in the blink of an eye, he’s standing at a respectful distance.

"I need a few more photos," he says, turning to walk away and gesturing for you to follow. "This is the entertainment district; it’s hard not to find some  eye-catching spots for a good shoot.”

You fall in line behind him, a few steps back.

A bit breathless from the sudden closeness, you wonder if what just happened was real or just a figment of your imagination.

Still, you pretend to be oblivious, not wanting to succumb to delusion, even though the air between you is thick with tension and unspoken desires.

“You like birds?”

The question catches you completely off guard. "Birds?" you ask, a little lost.

Leander grins, glancing over toward an old lady holding a bunch of brilliantly coloured parrots—vivid blues, greens, reds, and yellows. 

For a moment, you feel like you're back in high school with a hopeless hallway crush, drawn in by every small detail—the subtle tilt of his head, the playful glint in his green eyes, the easy curl of his lips that you can’t help but linger on. Then there’s the scar, a faint line beginning on his cheek, running down his neck, peeking out from the rolled-up sleeves of his shirt and stretching all the way to his forearm.

"Hey, sweetheart?" He snaps his fingers lightly in front of your face, breaking your trance. "Am I losing you already?”

"Oh… uh—" You stammer, muttering a curse under your breath as you quickly glance around, desperately avoiding his gaze. 

"Yeah, sure, I guess," you say with a sheepish smile, pulling out your phone in a hasty attempt to look busy.

Leander’s gaze drops to the screen, his eyebrows lifting in curiosity—until he spots the payment app open. His eyes widen, and he straightens up. "Wait—what exactly do you think you’re doing?”

"Well, someone has to pay the lady," you chuckle, flashing a smirk. "She’s not about to hand them over just because you flashed that pretty face and charming smile."

The bold flirtation slips out before you even realise it, leaving you just as surprised as Leander, whose eyebrows raise slightly, a grin spreading across his face.

"Don’t worry your head about something so silly," he says with a wink.

You open your mouth to argue, but Leander leans in close, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “Trust me, will you?” The words are rich, almost velvety, and you can’t ignore the delicious shiver that races down your spine—it has to be intentional.

“I invited you here, so this is on me. Just relax and look pretty,” he adds, leaning back with a playful smile. He takes your hand, his touch gentle, guiding you toward the woman with the birds.

You try to steady your breathing, eyes drifting over the way his black shirt perfectly moulds to his sculpted back.

“How much?” he asks with a friendly grin.

“Five bucks,” the old lady replies, rising slowly with the careful movements of age. “Take as many pictures as you like.” She extends her hands, offering you the vibrant little birds resting on her fingers.

You stifle an "aww" as you gently take the birds, carefully placing two on your head and trying to balance them without letting them tumble. 

But managing so many little ones at once is tricky.

Noticing your struggle, Leander steps in with a grin, placing one bird on your shoulder and positioning another on your index and middle fingers.

“Thanks.”

“No problem.”

He steps back, adjusting his camera before bringing it up to his eye, his focus fully on you.

“Ready? One… two… three…”

Click.

Click.

Without thinking, you shift into another pose, gazing softly at the bird perched on your finger. Leander, not missing a beat, snaps away.

The little bird on your shoulder ruffles its feathers, alerting you and gently you  reach over and place a warm hand on it, adjusting it to a more comfortable spot. 

You can’t help as you lean in to place a light kiss on its tiny head—they’re just too cute to resist!

Click. Click.

You chuckle, raising an eyebrow. "Having fun?"

"A lot," Leander smirks, his eyes never leaving the camera.

One by one, you hand the little birds back to the old lady, watching as she gently returns them to their perch. You notice there's no cage in sight, and a small sense of relief washes over you.

“They’re trained well,” Leander comments, as if reading your thoughts.

It’s not the first time he’s done that, and it spooks you. With his sunny personality, it’s easy to forget how sharp his eyes can be.

“So, where to next?” you ask, steering the conversation away .

He gestures down the road. “Let’s find a bar—the dim lighting makes for some stunning shots.”

And now here you are, leaning against the bar counter, trying to strike a casual pose.

You debate whether to keep a neutral expression or offer a smile.

“Easy… easy,” Leander soothes, as if sensing your nerves.

"Ah, sorry," you mutter under your breath.

"No, no," he reassures, his tone encouraging. "Take your time.”

"I don’t know what to do with my face," you admit, a bit flustered.

Kiss me.

Leander quickly clears his throat, pushing that thought aside, though the temptation lingers.

"Try looking to the right… avoid looking at the camera,” he suggests gently.

You nod, turning your head to the right.

Leander watches you in the dim light, noticing how the soft, golden glow highlights your features.

He adjusts the focus and takes a few shots.

“Do something with your hair,” he says softly, “like you’re fixing it—run your hand through it.”

You follow his direction, hoping for a picture-worthy moment just as the camera shutter clicks again.

“Perfect,” he says with a satisfied smile, scrolling through the photos.

You chuckle. “I can already imagine the caption— ‘This was a particularly difficult one,’ ” you say dramatically, adding air quotes.

Leander bursts into genuine laughter, clearly amused at your humour.

“Honestly, I don’t know who told you otherwise,” he says, raising a brow. “You seem like a natural to me.”

“Or maybe you’re the natural,” you shoot back.

Leander smirks, his eyes gleaming with playful mischief.

“At photography, I mean,” you quickly clarify, feeling a sudden need to explain yourself, as though he’d read a double meaning into your words.

“Only at photography?” he murmurs with an intense gaze, lips curling into a devilish smirk.

You blink, caught off guard. “What?” You weren’t oblivious to flirtations, but you didn’t want to be delusional and get ahead of yourself.

“Nothing,” Leander says, shaking his head with a slight smile as he checks his phone. 

But the faint pink blush dusting his cheeks betrays him—he was definitely flirting. 

A surge of boldness sparks within you, and you wonder if you should indulge.

Maybe offer him your number, or even suggest a date...

“Guess it’s getting late,” his voice interrupts your thoughts, pulling you back to the present. “I’ve probably kept you long enough,” he chuckles, a little sheepishly.

He turns off the camera that was live recording, signalling the end of your time together.

A slight panic flares up—you weren’t ready for this to end. “Actually, I really enjoyed our time together,” you say, hoping he hears the sincerity in your voice.

“Did you?” he asks, grinning with a playful glint. “It’s okay, you can be honest.”

This was your chance. Now or NEVER!

You take a steadying breath. “No, really—I wouldn’t mind part two.”

“A part two?”

“Yeah,” you pause, letting the anticipation build, “maybe… a date this time.”

Your words catch him completely off guard. After a beat of silence, nerves begin to creep in, and just as you’re about to laugh it off and backpedal, he speaks up.

“I thought you’d never ask,” he chuckles, a blush paints  his cheeks again as he glances away, then back at you. “Bold, aren’t you?” he teases, mirth dancing in his eyes. “You stole my move, but hey, I’m not complaining.”

“So… is that a yes?” you ask, grinning from ear to ear, your heart fluttering.

“On one condition,” he replies, a teasing glint in his eyes, drawing out the moment.

You pause, brow furrowed. “Oh? And what’s that?”

He grins, holding out his phone. “Your number.”

You roll your eyes, playing along. “How suave. What a gentleman.”

But you take his phone, entering your number. 

“No wonder you asked me out,” he chuckles, matching your sass.

“Careful,” you smirk, typing your name into his contacts. “Don’t make me second-guess it.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, sweetheart,” he teases, drawing out the nickname with a playful grin.

---------------------------------------------------

A/N note: I hope you all enjoyed this! I was getting lazy to post this, this was written way back in September I think lol, sorry.

Constructive criticism is appreciated as I am still finding my writing style and experimenting.

Tell me your thoughts.

[prapaiwife]

Oh, this scene in the novel is what made me love North more than I already do and as to why he's one of my favorite characters now!! Also, bas is doing such a great great job as North! And so seeing it here, I'm just screaming and crying, lol. As fah said, not everyone has one side to them. When we're stressed, we don't wanna talk or socialize in any capacity. And him being johans friend for a while, he can tell that's how jo is. But when he's with others, he doesn't act like that cause with North he doesn't have to feel like he needs to be what others already expect of him. And North, being the best person, ever says he doesn't think it's bad for jo to feel whatever it is he is. He should be able to express that emotion if he's stressed or whatever. And fah asking a good question!, he doesn't put the stress on you? Cause he is exhausted and stressed from the choas of his work life and balancing school, And North says no immediately cause johan doesn't ever make north feel like it's his problem he doesn't put his stress onto north! And fah seeing johan when he's with north be completely just at this ease is something he doesn't rarely see only when he's with him and so him asking north to stay and north willing to do just that 🥺

johan said, North truly made his life so special cause it was him. He's such an uncomplicated person, as he says himself. He accepts johan as he is, though he knows others have their preconceptions about him, and he doesn't care. He sees and hears enough about johan. He's very hardworking a workaholic truly. He takes care of him so well cause he wants to it's more than just a transactional thing it's cause johan had been found his person then and isn't gonna lose his 2nd chance😭

[gyorouis]

── ✦ not just on christmas.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚 ˚⋆ synopsis⸝⸝ i adore you, not just on christmas

꒰ genre⸝⸝ fluff, holiday romance pairing⸝⸝ stranger!kai x afab!reader wc⸝⸝ 1.5k warning⸝⸝ burnt marshmallow lol, could be cringe fluff or not, idk tune in⸝⸝ ariana grande — not just on christmas ୨ৎ ꒱

the christmas market was alive with the kind of energy that could only come from the holidays—twinkling fairy lights draped across every stall, the scent of cinnamon and pine hanging heavy in the air, and the distant hum of carolers’ voices weaving through the crowd. you stood behind your stall, rearranging the handmade wreaths for the sixth time that evening. not because they needed it, but because your hands needed something to do in the biting cold.

“you know, if you move those around any more, they’re going to revolt,” a familiar voice called out.

you looked up to see huening kai, his breath visible in the frosty air as he held two steaming cups of cocoa. his scarf was slightly crooked, and his cheeks were flushed, probably from the cold, though you couldn’t help but notice how the pink suited him.

“and here i thought you were busy charming your customers,” you teased, taking the cup he offered.

“oh, i’ve got time to spare,” he said with a grin, leaning casually against your counter. “besides, someone has to keep an eye on you. you’re scaring away business with that serious face.”

“my face isn’t scaring anyone,” you replied, feigning offense. “if anything, it’s your burnt marshmallows doing the damage.”

kai gasped, clutching his chest like you’d just wounded him. “i’ll have you know my marshmallows are artisanal.”

“artisanal marshmallows? is that what we’re calling over-toasted now?”

he chuckled, the sound warm and easy, like everything about him. “keep talking, and i’ll start charging you for this cocoa.”

you rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide the smile tugging at your lips. “fine. your marshmallows are perfect. happy?”

“very,” he said, raising his cup in a mock toast. “to perfectly toasted marshmallows and grumpy neighbors.”

the banter became a regular thing, kai popping over between waves of customers, always with a quip or a question that made you forget the cold for a while.

“so, what’s the story?” he asked one evening, propping his elbows on your counter.

“what story?”

“you. this stall. these wreaths. you’re not here just for the money. what’s the real reason?”

you hesitated, caught off guard by the sudden seriousness in his tone. “i like the market,” you said finally. “it’s... comforting. people are kinder during the holidays, and it feels good to be part of that.”

“huh,” he said, studying you with a thoughtful look that made you squirm. “that’s nice.”

“what about you?” you asked, deflecting. “why cocoa?”

“because i’m excellent at it,” he said with a dramatic flip of his hair.

“seriously.”

he shrugged, his grin softening. “my mom used to bring me to this market when i was a kid. the cocoa stand was my favorite. when the old owner retired, i thought... why not keep it going?”

you nodded, a small smile forming. “that’s... kind of sweet.”

“kind of?” he asked, mock-offended. “i’ll take it.”

the days blurred together, the market’s festive energy becoming your new normal. kai, of course, made himself indispensable.

“your decorations are sad,” he announced one afternoon, appearing with a string of multicolored lights.

“excuse me?” you asked, hands on your hips.

“sad,” he repeated, plugging in the lights and draping them over your stall. “see? now it looks like christmas.”

you had to admit, the lights did make a difference. “fine. but don’t think this means you’re in charge.”

“oh, i’m definitely in charge now,” he said, winking as he stepped back to admire his work.

one particularly frigid evening, kai arrived with a paper bag in hand. “cookies,” he declared, placing it on your counter. “for you.”

“what did you do?” you asked, narrowing your eyes.

“nothing! can’t a guy just be nice?”

“you? nice? suspicious.”

he rolled his eyes. “just eat the cookie.”

you took a cautious bite and immediately regretted your teasing. “okay, these are amazing.”

“i know,” he said smugly. “you’re welcome.”

as the market’s final week approached, you found yourself dreading the end. it wasn’t just the lights or the carolers or even the steady stream of customers—it was kai. his easy laughter, his ridiculous banter, the way he always seemed to know when you needed a warm drink or a kind word.

“what happens when it’s over?” you asked one night, as you both sat on a bench near the center of the square, sharing a blanket he’d brought from his stand.

“when what’s over?” he asked, turning to look at you.

“this. the market. the... magic.”

kai was quiet for a moment, his gaze fixed on the twinkling lights strung across the trees. “it doesn’t have to be over,” he said finally.

“what do you mean?”

“i mean, the magic isn’t just about the market. it’s about the people. the connections. and those don’t disappear just because the stalls close.”

his words lingered in your mind long after the market had emptied for the night.

“let’s go somewhere,” kai said suddenly.

“we’re still at the market,” you pointed out.

“later,” he said, smiling ever so sweetly before walking back to his stall, leaving you thinking about what he had just said.

the evening wore on, and as the crowd began to thin, kai returned with a bag slung over his shoulder. “come on,” he said, extending a hand.

“where are we going?” you asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

“you’ll see,” he said, his grin as mysterious as it was charming.

despite your protests, you let him lead you through the market. he guided you past the now-familiar stalls, past the carolers who waved at him like old friends, and toward the edge of the square where a small ice rink had been set up.

“no way,” you said, shaking your head. “i can’t skate.”

“neither can i,” he admitted, laughing. “but that’s not the point.”

before you could argue, he was pulling you toward the rink, renting skates for both of you. the next thing you knew, you were clinging to the edge of the rink, your legs wobbling precariously beneath you.

“this was a terrible idea,” you said, glaring at him as he skated—somewhat gracefully—a few feet ahead of you.

“you’re doing great!” he called, clearly lying.

“i’m going to kill you,” you muttered, but you couldn’t suppress the laugh that escaped as you nearly toppled over.

kai skated back to you, offering his hands. “here. trust me.”

“i trusted you, and now i’m here,” you pointed out.

“fair, but come on. it’s fun, right?” he said, his eyes sparkling.

reluctantly, you took his hands, letting him guide you away from the edge. the world seemed to blur around you as you focused on his face, his laughter echoing in your ears every time you stumbled. by the time you made it around the rink once, you were both breathless from laughing.

“see?” he said as you finally stepped off the ice. “not so bad.”

“speak for yourself,” you said, but you couldn’t deny the warmth that spread through you, even in the cold night air.

as the market began to close, kai walked you back to your stall. the twinkling lights he’d added earlier seemed to glow even brighter, casting a golden hue over the now-empty square.

“so,” he said, shoving his hands into his pockets. “this is it, huh?”

“yeah,” you said softly, glancing around. “it’s weird, isn’t it? how something can feel so alive and then just... end.”

“it doesn’t have to end,” he said, his voice quieter than usual.

you looked at him, your breath catching in your throat. “what do you mean?”

“i mean...” he hesitated, his cheeks tinged pink. “maybe we don’t have to wait until next christmas to see each other.”

you blinked, caught off guard by the vulnerability in his voice. “you mean that?”

“yeah,” he said, his usual confidence replaced by something softer. “i like spending time with you. even if you think my marshmallows are burned.”

you laughed, the sound light and unrestrained. “well, i guess i could put up with you. as long as you bring cookies.”

“deal,” he said, his grin returning.

before you could say anything else, he pulled something from his bag—a small, carefully wrapped gift. “here,” he said, handing it to you.

“what’s this?” you asked, taking it from him.

“open it,” he said, shuffling his feet like he was nervous.

inside was an ornament shaped like a cocoa mug, complete with tiny marshmallows.

“a reminder,” he said, scratching the back of his neck. “that love doesn’t have to be just for christmas.”

you stared at him, the weight of his words settling over you. “kai—”

“you don’t have to say anything,” he interrupted, his cheeks turning pink. “just... keep it. and maybe, you know, think about me when you see it.”

you smiled, clutching the ornament close. “i don’t think i’ll need a reminder for that.”

his grin returned, brighter than any of the market lights. “good. because i’m not letting you forget.”

and as you stood there, the sounds of the market fading into the night, you realized he wouldn’t.

gyo's note: to officially wrap up the holiday tales, here‘s the hyuka one for you guys! personally, this is my favorite one!! i HONESTLY love writing for hyuka, he makes me blush everytime (ot5 DOES!) anyway, how did you celebrate your christmas! i was so knocked out last night because i had drinks with my cousins, so i literally just woke up i fear,,, if you made it to this part, thank you so much! you will be loved. xoxo!

✮ 2024 gyozies, all rights reserved.

[ye4gerism]

hiii😊 I kinda have a few questions about curly’s mom Ngl and maybe his dad. I think my first question for his mom though is….is she racist or just a toxic boy mom or both. I also kinda wonder like what makes her like jimmy so much. Then about his dad. Ik we don’t really know much about him but I just wanted to know like does he likes us at all or more than the mom. I also kinda want to understand curly and his mom’s dynamic. Like when it comes to the toxic boy mom is she trying to see the husband she wants in curly. Because it kinda just came to point where is like these weird boy moms are kinda grooming or being weird with their son. Or is it more of just she’s jealous like jimmy but they aren’t jealous in the same way. I guys my class question is just why did curly’s mom and dad and how did curly take it. Also sorry if this is a lot😭 happy holidays 🎄

author’s note hi! thank you for your ask. this is a long post and i don’t want to clog up the feed. so click ‘keep reading’ to keep reading lol.

content good luck captain

ok so, here’s the long answer to your first question 😭 as you’ve probably noticed i am a black writer and make it my purpose to write for readers who look like me. the mouthwashing fandom is still so new and i haven’t really seen any black reader stories for curly (or really anyone) except for @grimmsbride who i’ve seen writing for curly and daisuke (check them out!).

because i still want an audience to cater to (and i don’t know what demographic i’m actually pulling from my fics), i would say yes and yes to your question about curly’s mom in good luck, captain. i could definitely see her being prejudice to reader if they’re poc and is most definitely a toxic boy mom. whatever the case is for you, she’ll never really see you as the best fit for her son.

as for jimmy, i’ve mentioned he grew up with curly in happy birthday, jolene. she just sees him as another son just based on shared history and proximity. he’s family.

i haven’t thought much about curly’s dad and just now realized i probably should have included him and his reaction to the tuplar crash in best wishes, curly. i feel that curly really favors his father and i hinted in dream of fish that his mom doesn’t really like that. as it’s been previously mentioned, he lives in australia and had most of the custody over curly. i imagine him as a really chill dude who’s really really funny and charming and likes to explore. he’d probably get remarried to someone who shares his humor and sense of adventure. when reader and curly are dating, she’s only spoken to mr. curly a few times over facetime or skype. but he likes you and accepts you as his son loves you tons. he let curly propose to you in his home.

i would say that during the events of best wishes, curly, he didn’t come visit you in person as it was hard for him to handle the loss of his son but he did call from time to time. even when curly came back, it was still tough for him to see his son but he still maintains a relationship with him.

curly respects his mom but there is a limit to their relationship. he did go to school in australia and came to stay with her on breaks - he didn’t get to see her all the time and as he grew, he tries to maintain a healthy and balanced relationship with her. he got closer to her when he decided to go to college in the united states and she really takes advantage of their proximity. i wouldn’t say she’s grooming him. she left a marriage that she felt wasn’t perfect and would lonve to be involved in curly’s decisions when it comes to who he’s in love with. sometimes she’ll suggest the daughters of her friends from work or church bc she thinks they’ll fit in her idea of what curly’s family and future should look like.

over time, i feel that she would be jealous of reader bc she got the family that mrs. former curly wanted.

mr. curly and mrs. former curly just fell out of their rhythm. they were high school sweethearts and had the perfect white picket fence life and it just didn’t work out one day. after countless arguments, curly’s dad decided to file for divorce and mrs. former curly signed them in a heartbeat. obvs curly was confused and heart broken as his parents did a good job hiding their issues and he couldn’t fathom why they would separate. having to go back and forth between continents was stressful at first but it became a routine for him.

and no worries about the length of your ask. i appreciate your interest in good luck, captain! happy holidays to you too!

[lullabyalikpoptarot]

Hi, can I request you the same for BTS also?

https://www.tumblr.com/lullabyalikpoptarot/770214743764025344?source=share

The question is. Will they love their Future Spouse?

Seokjin (9 of Cups/6 of Swords/The Hermit) I see a wish coming true for him and being fulfilled at first and I see love there, but then he moves to the Hermit energy of wanting to be alone and kind of try to discover himself. I can also see a lot of traveling where he will have to be alone. He could be happy, but he may need to work on some mental baggage he has.

Suga (The Magician/King of Swords/Page of Swords) I did hear yes in my head, but none of these cards indicate love, but I also did get the Queen of Cups and that indicates loving energy, but he will be someone who communicates a lot to his partner and expresses his opinion very clearly, so that is good. It is interesting to see him go from the King to the Page, so from maturity to immaturity, or he realizes he doesn’t know as much as he thinks he does as the Marriage progresses.

RM (4 of Wands/8 of Cups/Death) He seems happy at first, a lot of fun and good energy, but it kind of dies off, hmm not sure it will end well. I see distant and needing change here, not seeing love here though.

J-Hope (8 of Wands/3 of Pentacles/2 of Pentacles) Hobi what is going on here. I see a lot of Pentacles here lol I am not seeing love, which surprises me. It seems more practical to me. And once again, I see things moving quickly with him. It seems marriage is more practical than love from what I see here. 

Jimin (Ace of Swords/4 of Pentacles/7 of Wands) Umm no, it seems it will be a challenge. This marriage can also be about money and finances I am seeing. It is like it is an idea to save his assets or something like that. 

V (The Hierophant/The Star/4 of Cups) No, not seeing it here. Why do I feel the company may arrange this or he may have a traditional marriage. I see him pouring a lot of his love to others or his stardom to kind of put any love to his spouse. This marriage could be arranged with the Hierophant card there. Not sure he will be emotionally invested in who he marries. I hope this energy shift and I am wrong, some of these seem sad.

Jungkook (10 of Pentacles/Temperance/10 of Swords) No Jungkook, I was hoping our romantic in the group would find love, although this isn’t set in stone and no facts. I see a compromise here with this temperance card. I see something about money and investing in the future, but also mental anguish and sadness, just a lot of heavy thoughts with him about his spouse. His energy was a bit confusing to me, so I asked for another card and got the King of Cups, so I see love there, but with him I feel he worries if someone will love him for him or the money. I feel he is a loving person, but I don’t feel this energy towards his spouse. His energy towards his fs is a bit unstable for me, not as clear cut as the others.

[applebrooklyn]

India bears a disproportionately large burden of the world's tuberculosis rates, with World Health Organization (WHO) statistics for 2011 giving an estimated incidence figure of 2.2 million cases for India out of a global incidence of 9.6 million cases.

Tuberculosis is one of India's biggest health issues, but what makes this problem even worse is the recent discovery of Totally Drug-Resistant Tuberculosis, TDR-TB. This issue of drug resistance began with MDR-TB, moved to XDR-TB and, as of 2021, has grown to embrace the most dangerous form, TDR-TB.

The cost of this death and disease to the Indian economy between 2006 and 2014 was approximately US$1 billion.

Another major cause for the growth of TB in India has to do with its standing as a developing country. A study of Delhi slums has correlated higher scores on the Human Development Index and high proportions of one-room dwellings tend to correlate with TB at higher rates.[16] Poorly built environments, including hazards in the workplace, poor ventilation, and overcrowded homes have also been found to increase exposure to TB

( Their own living situation is causing them death and suffering, and bad wiring is causing summer fires)

It’s a fun fact and a reality check education hour.

I do agree with you. The world is living through a silent pandemic for years and it's the worst in India. We are struggling with it since pre independence era. The first sanatorium was established in 1905 or 1906, if I remember correctly, and even now, if you go to any of the colder places or hill stations, you will find these delepidated buildings which once used to be a sanatorium. One of them is near my college as well.

In 1951, the GOI launched a mass vaccination program for BCG and in 1962, National Tuberculosis Control Project was launched. As a young nation, we did well. Goverment's efforts were commendable. But soon enough, in late 1970s, we realised BCG vaccine isn't exactly working. This should have prompted the government to take an action, but nothing happened. Although, I would like to add here that some say that some data was lost between 1978-1979 (if my memory serves me right) and if we took that in account, the vaccine was working just fine. I would leave this to your discretion.

The world then saw the emergence of HIV in 1984. We too had cases of HIV infection. We did not knew until 1986. Until then, many were infected with HIV and TB was it's most common secondary infection. In 1992, we reported our first MDR TB case as well.

So we were in a hot soup. No vaccine, HIV, increasing population, recession, political upheaval, communication gap between the government and the masses, poor sanitation, lack of knowledge in public, MDR.

In 1993, TB was declared a global emergency and in the same year, Revised NTCP was piloted. We had our objectives clear—85% cure rate and 70% detection rates. And we did it. The catch—it took us 13 years!

Now, time is an asset. Even more so in the case of Mycobacterium tuberculosis. There is a whole catalogue of 17000 mutations which may lead to multi drug resistance. Bacteria are quick to reproduce and respond. They are exceptional at defence and time constraints are tight. Safe to say, the devil works fast, but bacteria work faster. Sadly, we did not realise it at that time. In 2012, we then encountered a rather strange strain that was resistant to all the first line and second line drugs—the TDR strain. As if MDR-TB wasn't a nuisance enough. The MDR-TB treatment has a success rate of only 54%. WHO reported roughly 3.4 lakh deaths due to TB in India in 2022 and 1.1 lakh were due to MDR-TB. We had record TB cases in 2023.

But yes, we are working on it. We are a big country with a big population. Population burden is always going to be an issue. We can't run from it. We are working on sanitation, it is taking time, but it will hopefully happen in its due course. In 2023, we became the first country to make a mathematical model to estimate the cases of tuberculosis. According to that, there was an 11 % reduction in the case of TB in 2022 as compared to 2023.

Government has launched NSP for Tuberculosis elimination (2017-2025). We have NiKshay ecosystem (under which the mathematical model has been developed), we have Nikshay poshan Yojana for financial support of TB patients. The scientists are doing their due. Two vaccines are under phase 3 clinical trials. Drugs are being developed. Rifampicin derivatives, BDQ, Delaminid etc.

So yeah, it's an uphill battle and we have made many mistakes. But if all of us do our respective parts, we still have a chance to overcome it.

[crocksyo]

What's that feeling you get as your GYN turns on their headlamp and ask you to scoot to the edge..... further...

further......

more...

more....

bit more.....

more... .

further...

[shinozaki-ayumi]

seeing ayumi slander in current year... disappointing...

[woo-lesbeano]

Today in my university class we were presenting our end of semester videos. One of my classmate's video was completely drawn, really well done, but a somewhat... distinct style.

So I went up to him after class and went - "Hey, dude, can I ask you a question?"

He goes - "yeah, sure."

So I ask - "Did you read Homestuck in middle school?"

And the question hit him with such a degree of psychic damage he just immediately keeled over coughing.

Anyways, I was right.

[namtanlovesfilm]

DAMNNN, they kinda popped off on step by step! would be a fair point to make if it wasn't itself a bl show profiting off lgbtq+ relationships but oh well 🤭

[sleepy-stitches]

hello tumblr user sleepy stitches why am i willing to die for ur yuri ocs despite only having seen one line of dialogue from both of them?

sincerely, me

hi tumblr user verysharpfish,

thank you for writing in. at the top of this post i would like to clarify that pahrsi was made by my good friend rye beans, so i cannot at all take credit for her. ariane is my girl though. i would love to blend her. she sucks.

to answer your question, i think it is because they are both completely fucking insane. the dialogue in question is one i picked because i think it's wild out of context, but it stays equally insane in context? this exchange happens maybe two hours after they've met, after pahrsi has stitched up a particularly icky wound ariane has in the back of her leg (obtained from other yuri. thats a story for a different post though). they literally met at a casino and pahrsi talked ariane into taking her back to her place to stitch her up. as a complete stranger. because she thought it would be fun. i need to send her to the shredder.

the whole reason they find themselves drawn to each other in the first place is because they both have girlfriends that they have kind of rocky relationships with, and they remind each other of those girlfriends. it's kind of a weird rebound situation except if they never did anything explicitly romantic and instead just kind of danced around the fact that they're obviously attracted to each other for like two entire years. they make me fucking crazy.

oh and every exchange they have is equally insane. they always talk like this. im struggling to pick my favourite one to add at the end here because all of it is really really good. i think this one is a classic; this is barely a third of the conversation these two have about ariane's potential to kill pahrsi.

what the FUCK is wrong with them

[mad-hunts]

@question-marked asked: “are you making fresh pasta?”

barton managed to barely hear eddie over the sound of two of his kids arguing in the background — who seemed to be jack and matilda, respectively, as he would soon call out to them using their names in his native tongue. but the fact remained that he had heard him and so after he essentially told them to ' get along ' in french, barton turned to face the other. he was currently kneading what looked to be some kind of dough with his hands, ❝ sorry, they've been unusually argumentative today with each other. you're going to have to excuse them. but yeah... lucky for you, you caught me right in the middle of making dinner. ❞

barton seemed to have some experience as he hadn't gotten any of the dough on his hands and it seemed to be quite close to having the right texture (not too dry, and not too wet). and truthfully, he did as the recipe he'd gotten for chicken alfredo from winslow? it called for homemade noodles so he figured he might as well try his hand at it. though barton still wasn't good at certain aspects of it, like actually rolling the dough through the pasta maker. a purposely overdramatic sigh left his lips then, ❝ ahh, but i'm really no good at rolling the dough through the pasta maker myself. if only there were someone here who could do it for me. ❞ he discretely looked over to edward afterward as if to say ' i'm totally not talking about you here, but also, i am. ' barton really didn't like to look like he wasn't an expert at things in the kitchen after all when he'd been cooking so long.

but this was only his second time making this, so he supposed it was more than reasonable for him to still struggle with it. barton stopped kneading the dough and looked at edward through squinted eyes as if analyzing him, ❝ i'm still a bit confused as to why you would come here when you're not injured. would you mind telling me again why you're here, considering i don't think you like me enough to be here simply for a social call? oh, and while you're doing that, could you also get me that dough cutter over there? thanks, ❞ a small unreadable smile ghosted across his features while he gestured towards the blade a little ways away from him. edward had honestly given him no reason to hate him, so as it stood, he felt rather ambivalent towards him. ❝ say, you aren't a vegetarian... right? because i'm making chicken alfredo. and enough to feed a small army, probably, so you can definitely have some. ❞