#sometimes even sunshines have rainy days !!!!

[shoverse]

That fact that I'm on writer's block right now and Tumblr isn't working properly and then some random people just came up to me to ask for advice about something which is stupid considering I'm one of the worst people to ask for advice is just infuriating me today and my day is ruined sho.

please Tell me something to keep me motivated and not straight upmurder these blonde bitches. (Who are literally complementing me for my skin colour in the most racist way possible like bruh I'm indian what do you want my skin colour to be)

Also DID YOU SEE FELIX'S TATTOO I AM DISINTEGRATING INTO PIECES

MY ADVICE FOR U IS SOMETIMES U JUST NEED TO GRRAH WE GO WILD AND THATS OK 🤞😓 sometimes when you grrah we go wild there is murder involved and that is okay because ur a wolf and u cant contain these urges. just remember to grrah we go wild in moderation as some may find mass murder not especially enjoyable!!

[catiuskaa]

RAINKISSED CHERRIES.

summary: by chance or luck, you and minho found each other that rainy summer evening. dirty dishes, cherries and all.

series masterlist (☆) collab with @dalamjisung !

wc: 3.1k

cw: absolute heart-wreaking fluff! short mentions of bullying, minho is a soft introverted cutie pie, the reader is a cherry enthusiast, and a slight suggestive thing on the end [as a present for all of you who thought the cherry emoji on the poll was for dirty stuff, lololol]

[🔺 ★ 🍒 ★ 🔺]

Minho was used to being alone. 

It didn’t scare him, not really. He didn’t feel fear when all that was happening around him was the silence that crowded the restaurant after a busy day as he cleaned up his kitchen. He relished the scent of lemons that lingered on him after he was done, sometimes going as far as doing the dishes by hand instead of popping them into the dishwasher, in an attempt to intensify it.

He knew most people wouldn’t understand. And quite frankly, he didn’t mind it. The kitchen was his space. No one came in during their shifts, merely speaking to him through the window that divided it from the rest of the place. He could cook without interruption, with the tranquil chatter that the clients brought merely on the background as he hummed distant tunes he couldn’t remember the lyrics to while chopping vegetables or cleaning up a fish.

So he took his time cleaning too, waiting for his ears to get used to the absence of noise and to welcome the reverberation his steps made when he walked around cleaning the counters, or when he moved the plates and cutlery and glasses, the sounds all too familiar, or sometimes new ones, like the door to the fridge that now chirped as he opened it while checking on the list next to it to see what he’d need to buy or refill.

The rain sounded shyly as it fell on the roof over him, like a gentle reminder to bring an umbrella to work. Its soothing charm made him sigh in comfort, and Minho relished in the sound of nothing at all that filled the restaurant after closing.

And when there was a sudden shaking of the backdoor, is why his heart skipped a beat. Or that’s what he liked to think at first, considering that it seemed much more normal to relate that to the unexpected sound rather than the unexpected, unknown visit.

“We’re… closed,” Minho uttered, frowning lightly, confused at the sight of you.

He was pretty sure it was late enough for you to know that the restaurant was closed —if the fact that the sign over the main door that read HAVEN wasn’t on couldn’t have been a dead giveaway already—.

But under his disoriented grin, he found you smiling. “Right. S-sorry,” you mumbled. Your hair was wet, your clothes too, which was also weird, considering summer rain showers were never intense to such an extent.

It brought the conclusion that you had probably been walking under the rain for a while.

“Did you… um.” He felt a small lump in his throat, and he cursed in his mind.

Minho knew he wasn’t cut out for customer service. That’s why his brother, Felix, like the everlasting ray of sunshine he was and had always been, was the one who managed the front while he stayed in the kitchen. The sole contact he had with clients would be when they sat on the window by the kitchen, and that was only allowed in the early mornings, which meant barely any people interacted with him aside from the casual, “coffee, black,” or “is there a newspaper I could read?” He kind of enjoyed that sort of contact. Minho didn’t even need to answer, merely nodding and following suit to what the clients demanded.

But this was different, and despite himself, he tried to push through. “You’re soaked.” He stated, a fact you didn’t dare to contradict, as foolish as that might have been, taking in the state of you. “Come in. You’ll get a cold.”

He moved on autopilot as he headed to the locker that stood in the corner of the kitchen. There was a small smile of triumph that crossed his face when he found the towels that Felix kept there for rain showers, and grabbed one.

“Take a seat… if you, um, want to.”

You blinked at him, puzzled, watching as he left the neatly folded towel over the windowsill-like counter.

Licking his lips, Minho just stared at you, doubting his every action, going as far as wondering if his breathing was too loud for the silence that crowded the restaurant, bubbling with the gentle words he had just spoken.

But then your eyes got teary, and you smiled at him like he had hung the stars in the sky for you to see. His heart did a thing at the sight of your new-formed happiness, beating a bit faster as you took the towel and messily squeezed your hair with it, sitting on the other side of the counter.

You were an unexpected visit in his space. His kitchen. His mind related that to the fact that his heart was going what his brother would call “bananas”, now timidly troubled at the sight of you.

It was a small diner in a small village. With the exception of tourists here and there, arriving in boats to enjoy the cool water to ease the warmth the Sun brought. But there were no boats that night, if Minho’s view of the sea from the kitchen was right. Still, he had no idea who you were, nor how it was that he had never seen you before.

“Do you have a charger I could borrow?” The tone of your voice was soft, almost as soothing as the silence had been before your arrival.

He nodded, handing it to you with a sheepish smile on his features, ones that matched your own.

You sighed, plopping your head down against the towel, laying on the counter, fidgeting with the stool you were sitting on, moving side to side.

“Are you not going to ask?” You mumbled softly, playing with the wet strands of hair that fell over your eyes.

Truth be told, Minho hadn’t planned to, not when he had just remembered he had to dry and hang the wine glasses over the counter.

He let out a somewhat breathless chuckle as he unloaded the glasses from the dishwasher.

“Last time I walked for hours in the rain, I wasn’t keen on people wondering why.”

Your gaze felt piercing against his face, but he pretended to be so very interested in drying the glass in his hands. Mmh, oh, yes, glass was made out of glass. Surprising.

The snicker that passed your lips felt equally sad and amused, and a small part of Minho couldn’t help but think that it sounded way better than the tinkles of the dishes.

“Guess so, yeah.”

“You do look like you have a good story to tell.” He grinned bashfully.

The tips of his ears turned pink, but he didn’t mind it when he noticed the shimmer in your eyes turning lighter, entertained by his words.

“You think so?”

He cherished the giggle you let out. Better than a bittersweet snicker. Much better. 

“Pretty sure, yeah.”

A gentle blush dusted your cheeks, and you remained silent, wondering what could be the best way to explain how you had ended up there, like a stray kitten, scratching the wooden door.

“A friend invited me over. I live nearby, I moved recently, but her house is closer to the main plaza here. You know, where the summer concerts are.” He nodded, attentively listening to your every word.

It wasn’t a place he frequented, much less when it was so crowded, but it was easy to hear the music and see the lights from his room, a recurrent scenario every summer since he could recall.

“I don’t drink. Which, to a bunch of twenty-something-year-olds, seems weird enough to comment on it every single time. Sometimes they say that I ruin the vibe, that I’m a killjoy. It’s whatever.”

Now, Minho sucked at social cues half of the time, —the other half he just wasn’t interested enough to give a flying fuck—, but even for him it was easy to say that, to you, it wasn’t just whatever.

“We went to today’s—, well, yesterday’s concert.” You snickered, but your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes. “It was okay. They had their fair share of alcohol, I had apple juice. I can’t say I didn’t have fun.”

Minho felt his heart pout inside his chest when he saw you shrug nonchalantly. And he lied too, by omission, deciding not to comment on it.

“Then we went back to my friend's house.” Your tone had changed, and the palms of your hands pressed into your eye sockets, as if that could make the memory of a few hours ago more bearable. “And I had this necklace on. A silly thing. Gold.” You muttered, moving your hands to your jaw as you kept speaking. “Probably fake anyways.”

You gulped, as if swallowing dry. “Suddenly, the girl who invited me turned against me.” You bit your lip, chuckling a cold laugh out of your system. “Said I was only there to drive them, because I didn’t drink. But now her boyfriend had a license.” You rolled your eyes, frowning. “Like, girl, your sad excuse of a boyfriend is one shove away from an alcoholic coma. Sure. Let him drive. First one who ends up in a ditch loses.”

Hanging up yet another wine glass, Minho snickered, which got you out of your head lightly, making you smile shyly, noticing your phone had turned back on.

But instead of throwing yourself at it head first, you sighed, continuing the story.

“She said I wasn’t needed now.” Your voice felt heavy with pent-up emotions. “That the only cute thing I could bring to the group was my necklace.” Your eyes were teary again, and Minho couldn’t help but scoff, frowning.

“Sounds like a handful.” He mumbled.

“God, yeah,” you passed your hands through your hair, “but the worst was when her boyfriend, drunk as fuck, decided that if she liked my necklace, she should have it.”

His hands stopped, as if someone had pressed pause on him, and Minho promptly left the wine glass on the counter, cloth inside it. 

“He… grabbed the necklace and… and shoved me.” You recalled the motion, taking a hand to your neck, tightening it on a fist, and tensing up your body, as if you had been pushed right then and there before Minho’s eyes. 

“And, well, the thing couldn’t really hold my weight to begin with…” You scratched the back of your head, your hair still damp under your fingertips. “The clasp got loose and… I fell back to the swimming pool.”

“God, you must be freezing, then,” Minho mumbled, the shock passing through his tone, mixed with light worry. 

You dismissed it with a gentle groan and a flick of the wrist, but when he got you another towel, you were quick to settle it over your shoulders. 

“I don’t know if Lix could have left something around here…” 

But you settled your hand over his wrist, smiling. “No, please. You’ve done enough for me already. More than any of my so-called friends to begin with.”

That’s why I should keep doing more. 

It was a thought, just a random idea, something far from being a grand gesture of any kind. Still, the weight of it threatened to tint Minho’s ears a deep shade of red and take his breath away. It was then and only then that he noticed a red scratch on your neck, just a bit over your collarbone.

You could only blink, puzzled, when he didn’t move his arm away from you, but instead leaned forward, slightly over the counter, boring his eyes to your neck. 

“He did this to you?” 

Ah. You were talking. Mmh. Having a conversation, yes. He— god, he was a total stranger. Handsome, sure, whatever. Ok, maybe not exactly whatever, fine. Still. Huh? What had you been thinking?

“I, uh,” you swallowed dry, but it hadn’t been full of awkward tension. Not as much as you had expected. “What… what?” 

Breathless. It was ridiculous! How could a random, gorgeous, beautiful young man from the countryside make you so weak in such little time? It wasn’t normal to fall so easily for anyone, was it?

His eyes stared at yours, and the brown of his calmed your racing heart and fuzzy mind. 

Oh. 

“Um. You have a… t-there’s a… scratch. Red. From, um, the necklace, probably.” 

But neither of you had moved from the closeness that you had just discovered. 

“Is it, eh, bleeding?” 

Minho’s tone matched your own. A whisper, barely loud enough to be called a sound. 

“No. Just a scratch.” 

His eyes —bright and kind, yet guarded— held yours with an intensity that was both unnerving and comforting, whereas Minho felt like he was being seen, really seen, for the first time in a long while. Which was, again, bananas. One hundred per cent bananas. 

Like I said, ridiculous. Odds are that you had spent less than an hour in his space, his kitchen, and now he didn’t find himself yearning for the tranquil buzz of his ears after a loud day. Tonight, he wanted your voice, telling him a story. And he’d love to listen to anything, especially if you didn’t have that sad undertone while you spoke, because when you had giggled, it had reverberated in his space. Not his kitchen, honestly, but his chest, fluttering butterflies fighting inside of him. 

Neither of you spoke, but the silence was no longer awkward. It was filled with something else, something tender and unspoken. You licked your lips, chuckling lightly, and tucked a wet strand of hair behind your ear, a delicate movement that had only seemed to draw him closer, despite the stillness of your bodies.

“I think there are bandaids here somewhere.” He grinned gently, and you watched him, almost mesmerized. “It’s better than nothing.” There was a slight doubt in his mind, but he ended up shoving it away, speaking softly. “I can’t offer you much aside from bandaids and cherries, really.  Let me.” Minho chuckled.

He had to hold back the impulse to bite his lip at your toothy grin. “You have cherries?” 

For you, yes. But instead, he merely smiled, cruising to the counter close to the window, moving the bowl closer to you. 

Plopping a cherry in your mouth, you sighed in contentment. The familiar, almost homey feeling of the explosion of sweetness in your mouth brought you back to the comfort of your own house. You picked a paper napkin from the corner of the windowsill counter, leaving the pits over it. 

“You must really like cherries.” He tongued his cheek, missing your enthusiastic nod, heading to one of the small drawers of the aisle in the kitchen, like a man on a mission, and you snickered, staring at his back as he looked around in the different drawers. But then, he paused, and his shoulders made a weird motion. “Ah, Yongbok…” 

You couldn’t help but frown at him, yet it was obvious that the giggle you let out after he turned back to face you had been totally on purpose. 

“Hello Kitty bandaids?” You relished on the light blush that dusted his cheeks pink, before sparing him. “That’s so cute.”

Minho let out a chuckle that was full of relief. “My little brother. A menace, as you can see.” 

“Mmh, I’m thoroughly terrified.” 

“You don’t say.” 

He snickered, getting out of the kitchen, standing now before you, towering over your sitting figure, even on the bar stool. 

You watched as he skilfully unwrapped the pink and colourful bandaid, lemon-scented hands tenderly pressing the sticky band over the red scratch. 

“There,” Minho mumbled. “You can keep an extra one if you’d like.”

Only in certain moments, he could remember not missing the old clock that used to tick every second, hanging over the backdoor like an impending sign that his time in the kitchen was well past midnight. And that night was not only one more to the list, but most likely its number one addition. Minho loved the feeling that came over him when he stared into your eyes, and that old wooden thing would have ruined everything. 

No old clock. Just two strangers standing in front of each other, on a late August night, inside a closed diner, waiting for something to interrupt what was too early to happen yet. 

There would be other chances, Minho was sure of it. At least a small part of him was, whereas the other debated how stupid he was because he hadn’t asked for your name yet. Nevertheless, the other part of his brain —a much, much funnier one, if you asked for this humble author’s opinion— knew there was time. 

He didn’t need an old clock in the diner, because there would be time on other rainy evenings, when you’d come back from wherever you had been in the day, the lingering scent of rain on you, and he’d melt in your arms, as if that could make the lemon scent stain on you as much as you had stained him. 

Minho would scrunch his nose. 

“You reek of cherries.” 

And you’d smile, guilty as charged, both of you fully aware that you had probably bought and finished a small box of cherries on your way to him. 

“Change that, then.” 

It would only take a playful giggle escape from your cherry-tinted lips for him to grab you in his arms and sit you down, not behind the counter like the night you two had met, and not on the edge of his bed like he had done barely a couple of months after —one could only resist a sweet sweet cherry for so long—, but on top of the recently-cleaned surface, and he’d giggle too, torn between kissing away the day off you as you both simmered in the late, rainy night, protected only by the diner’s roof, or melting in your hold, your hands, slightly cold from being outside running through his hair and scratching his scalp, letting rain, cherries and lemons lull him to sleep. 

He hadn’t seen any of this in your eyes, that first night. But Minho knew deep inside that there was no way in hell he’d let you go without you coming back the next morning.

“I should go.” You grinned, looking down sheepishly. “Thank you for tonight.”

After folding the towels —an excuse to stay just a bit more—, you both parted ways under the rain. 

Were there things left unsaid? Sure. Honestly, it’s why this author keeps adding small bits and pieces between long hyphens. Minho hadn’t told you how he was dying to see you again someday —the sooner the better, if you asked him—. 

And you had just smiled cheekily as you walked away to find your car instead of saying what you had been thinking for a while, Hello Kitty bandaid in hand —that would surely end up stuck to the wall of your room—. 

It wasn’t your name, as some of you might be thinking. You had scribbled that on another napkin when he wasn’t looking. No, it was something even better. 

See you tomorrow.

[🔺 ★ 🍒 ★ 🔺]

kats, who is craving not cherries but a late-night, lemon-scented minho for herself to cuddle to sleep.

catiuskaa, august 2024 ©

POLL TAGLIST! @felixglow @beccasmecka @loubouskz @dreamerwasfound @renjunniex @planetstars-blog @frickinmad @jeongsoo-jin @raptorbait529 @skz-supernovaa @midnightlunaaa @xuxibelle @ppurple-reignn @s3onghaswifey

bold and red means i couldn’t tag you! </3

PERMANENT TAGLIST! @lyramundana @stayconnecteed

[starlostseungmin]

husband!felix

✰ notes: felix is finally here !! hyunjin will be posted soon. not proofread. DO NOT FORGET TO REBLOG, COMMENT AND LEAVE TAGS! thank you <33

seungmin , chan , lee know , jeongin , han , changbin（ felix ）hyunjin.

ꔛ

Husband Felix who proposed like this [ read here. ]

Husband Felix who is the sunshine of your rainy days, an angel sent to love and make you happy, and has the sweetest smile of all. 

Husband Felix who loves to bake your favorite pastries every weekend. You’d try to help but he keeps you out of the kitchen just to surprise you with what he made (sometimes they’re burnt) but he is a good cook anyway. 

Husband Felix whose freckles you love to trace with your fingers while he’s asleep and you’d tell him how much you love them, “They’re like constellations.” with a smile on your face. He gets shy after that. 

Husband Felix who cries every time you do movie marathons because he gets swayed easily by the plot, especially melodramas.  

Husband Felix who always wanted a golden retriever puppy and begged you to adopt one, but you told him you already have Seungmin at the dorms. 

Husband Felix who lets you win every time you play video games with him and gets loud when he loses at uno. Thanks to Chan. 

Husband Felix who gives you flowers when you go on dates because it makes him think of you and would say you are as pretty as them. 

Husband Felix whose ideal date is to have a picnic by the river or the beach so you can watch the sunset or sunrise together while holding hands. 

Husband Felix who loves taking pictures of you and showing them to you later saying how beautiful you look on each of them. 

Husband Felix who knows exactly how to flirt but is weird and funny sometimes. It never fails to make you laugh. 

Husband Felix who makes your heart flutter every time he smiles and it gets worse when he kisses your lips at random times leaving a blush on your cheeks. He loves to cuddle and is probably the clingy one in this relationship. You don’t mind anyway and you love him for that. “I was born to give hugs!!”

Husband Felix who lets you play with his hair and style it whatever you want on a boring weekend. 

Husband Felix who calls and texts you every time he gets the chance when he’s not around because he misses you so much. He would hug you tight and smother you with kisses when you surprise him while he’s on tour or after he’s been away from you for too long. 

Husband Felix who is a great drinking buddy but gets drunk easily. He always has so much to confess on how much he loves you when he’s drunk and cries while taking everything to heart. 

Husband Felix who is so annoying (lovingly) and cute at the same time that you can’t even get mad. He does it on purpose. 

Husband Felix who takes you on vacation a lot of times a year to his favorite countries, lets you use his card to make a big or small purchase and spoils you by buying you gifts or giving you something from the brands that he’s working with. “Take them or I’ll sell them online having me as a freebie,” He would say while wriggling his brows. “You can’t sell them,” “I know so take them!” 

Husband Felix who gets jealous when you spend a little too much time with his friends instead of him when you’re hanging out during their free time and sulks at the corner like a pouty duckling. 

Husband Felix who takes a day off from work and cooks for you when you get sick. He’s the type to not let you move a single muscle and asks you to stay in bedーthat he’ll do everything you ask for, except argue with him.

Husband Felix who doesn’t want to fight with you. He doesn’t like seeing you cry and most likely hides himself when he’s the one crying. He’ll apologize immediately and take you in his arms, whispering tons of I love yous. 

Husband Felix who would say encouraging words when you’re sad and would insert funny jokes just to see you smile. 

Husband Felix whose love languages are words of affirmation, acts of service, physical touch, gift-giving, and quality time. 

Husband Felix who doesn’t mind if you don’t want or want children with him because he respects you so much and always choose the things that would make you comfortable. 

Husband Felix who doesn’t just love you but is willing to give up everything in the world just to have you which he already did. 

Husband Felix whom you promised to take care of him well, never hurt him, never leave but love him and would always be right there for him. 

Husband Felix who will and always choose you.

©️ 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐌𝐈𝐍 , 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒.

[4ln-stay8]

Rainy hearts

>summary: Lando was late for a game session with his friends due to picking you up

>author’s notes: I hope this isn’t as bad as I think it is

>warnings: idk some assumptions, some ignoring, some fluff at the end

Lando had promised Max that he'd join their gaming session and stream with their friends that evening. They had all been looking forward to it, but he found himself running late because you, his secret girlfriend, had called him in a rush. You needed a ride from your work to your university for your evening classes.

"Hi guys! Sorry I'm late" said the brown curly haired man

Lando finally joined the stream, but Max couldn't help but ask, "Lando, where were you? We had to start without you."

Lando sighed, frustration evident in his voice. "Sorry, Max. Sunshine needed a ride to her university, and she was in a hurry. She acts like such a spoiled brat sometimes, you know? She thinks I'm her personal chauffeur and that I'll be wherever she wants whenever she wants like I don't actually have anything else to do. She has a car and a driving license yet she still bothers me."

'Sunshine' was the code name they gave you for whenever they wanted to talk about you without people snooping in their business, and it worked.

Everyone knew about 'Sunshine' but no one knew the mystery identity of 'Sunshine'. Everyone knew she was Lando's girlfriend but no one knew anything about her. No one knew your name, your age, anything, and both you and Lando loved that!

Unknown to Lando, you've been discreetly watching the stream from your class, hurt by his comment. Did he really think that you were a spoiled brat? Does he really think that you see him as your personal driver?

You didn't wanted to be seen like that. That wasn't you! You never called him to pick you up just because you didn't want to take the bus or walk to university. You only asked him to pick you up when you were in a hurry and you were running late, and that wasn't often.

You have a driving license but due to the very busy neighbourhood your work was situated in you never took your car. To find a parking space there was nearly impossible and you would have to wait a while to actually find a spot which would result in you being late for work.

When your classes ended, you decided not to call Lando for a ride as you had agreed upon. He insisted that you would call him when you were done for the day so he could pick you up. After a while you agreed to call him, but now you weren't gonna do that. Instead, you walked home, and as luck would have it, the rain started pouring down.

Back at yours and Lando's place, thunder echoed as he anxiously checked the time. Realizing that your class had ended, he started to worry. It's been nearly 40 minutes since the class ended and there was no sign from you. He checked his phone at least 5 times but there was nothing there from you.

He said goodbye to the boys as he decided to leave the stream and go outside the gaming room and call you to see where you were. As he did that he heard the front door closing. Walking towards the entrance, he was met by his drenched girlfriend.

"Why didn't you call me, Y/N? I was worried sick!" Lando exclaimed, his worry turning into relief at seeing you safe.

You, avoiding eye contact, replied, "I didn't want to bother you or act like a spoiled brat who treats you like her personal driver,"

You looked at him, your eyes filled with a mix of hurt and determination, before turning away and leaving him standing in the hallway, his heart heavy with regret.

You walked into your shared bedroom, walking to the closet to find some dry clothes as you were wet and cold. Lando followed you like a lost puppy trying to find some words.

Lando sighed, realizing the unintended consequence of his words. "Y/N, it's not like that. I do want to help."

With a bitter tone and without even looking at him you told him "I appreciate it but I don't want to make you late for gaming with the boys" you said sarcastically and walked in the bathroom to take a hot shower.

He went to the kitchen to make you some tea so you could warm up even more, and something to eat, hoping that this would also make you a little less mad at him.

Around 20 minutes later, you walked out of the shower, dressed in some of Lando's clothes. You were mad at him but you won't deny that his clothes were more comfortable and warmer than yours.

You sat ok the bed scrolling on your phone while you snuggled in the blanket trying to get more warm. On the other room Lando was warming the tea, making a plate of food for you to eat.

He put them on a tray, picked it up and walked to your shared bedroom. He knocked on the door and opened it slowly.

“I brought you something to eat and some tea to warm up a little more” he whispered

You rolled your eyes at him trying not to give in and forgive him so quickly. “Thanks” you whispered as well, standing up a little and taking the tray from his hands.

“Look baby, I’m really sorry for what I said. I swear I didn’t mean it!” He whispered, his eyes pleading for forgiveness

“Am I really a bother to you? If I am I won’t ask you to pick me up again. Be honest!” you whispered avoiding his eyes, scared of his answer

“Of course you are not a bother to me, my love! I would come pick you up from the other side of the world if I had to! I swear baby I didn’t mean it! I was just annoyed because the traffic was bad when I got back! I am really sorry! Please forgive me!” He said, regret present in his voice

“I forgive you, but please don’t do say that again” you said, hurt still lingering in your voice

Even though you didn’t wanted to give in too easily, the tone in his voice made you break. You could feel how sorry he was for what he said, and after all he was your boyfriend and you loved him, so you did gave in.

“I swear I will never say anything like this again! What can I do to make it up to you?” the british man said desperately

“Just come and cuddle me, I’m still cold from the rain” you said putting the tray away and opening your arms

“Gladly!” He whispered and jumped on his side of the bed to cuddle you for the rest of the night.

[inkspiredwriting]

Rainy Reconciliation

Five Hargreeves x Fem!reader

Warnings: none

The sky above was a tumult of swirling clouds, promising an imminent downpour. Five Hargreeves and his wife, Y/n, were caught in their own storm inside their cozy apartment. What started as a minor disagreement over something trivial had spiraled into a heated argument, fueled by stress and frayed nerves from the day’s challenges.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me about the meeting with the Commission!” Y/n’s voice was raised, her eyes flashing with frustration.

Five, standing by the window, sighed and rubbed his temples. “I didn’t think it was necessary to worry you. I had it under control.”

“Under control?” Y/n scoffed. “Five, you always think you have everything under control, but sometimes you need to let me in! We’re a team, remember?”

Five turned to face her, his expression a mix of guilt and stubbornness. “I know we’re a team, Y/n. But some things are complicated. I didn’t want to burden you.”

Y/n crossed her arms, shaking her head. “It’s not about burdening me. It’s about sharing our lives, our struggles. I want to be there for you, even if it’s messy.”

The argument continued to escalate, their voices mingling with the distant rumble of thunder outside. The intensity of their emotions was palpable, each trying to make the other understand their perspective.

As their argument reached a crescendo, the first fat raindrops began to splatter against the window. Five glanced outside, noticing the rain starting to fall in earnest. Y/n, too, seemed to notice, her anger momentarily diffused by the sudden change in weather.

Without another word, she turned and opened the front door, stepping out into the rain. Five watched, momentarily stunned, as she walked into the downpour, her figure silhouetted against the gray sky.

Concerned and unwilling to let her go, Five grabbed his coat and followed her outside. The rain was cold and relentless, soaking them both within moments.

“Y/n, wait!” Five called, jogging to catch up with her. His voice softened as he reached her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to shut you out.”

Y/n stopped and turned to face him, rain streaming down her cheeks like tears. “I know you didn’t. I just... I want to be part of your life, all of it. Even the hard parts.”

Five stepped closer, his own frustrations melting away in the rain. “You’re right. I should have told you. I’m sorry.”

For a moment, they stood there in the rain, both drenched and shivering but feeling the tension between them dissolve. Five reached out, gently brushing a wet strand of hair from Y/n’s face.

“I love you,” he said softly, his eyes full of sincerity. “I don’t want to fight. I want us to be okay.”

Y/n’s lips curved into a small, tender smile. “I love you too. And we will be okay.”

A mischievous glint appeared in Five’s eyes as he extended his hand to Y/n. “Dance with me?”

Y/n blinked in surprise but then laughed, a sound that was like sunshine breaking through the storm clouds. “Here? In the rain?”

“Why not?” Five grinned, taking her hand and pulling her close.

With a shrug, Y/n let herself be drawn into his embrace. The rain continued to fall around them, creating a shimmering curtain that enclosed their private world. Five wrapped one arm around her waist and took her hand in his, guiding her into a slow, unsteady waltz.

They moved together, their laughter mingling with the sound of the rain. Five twirled Y/n under his arm, both of them stumbling slightly on the wet pavement but not caring in the least. The argument was forgotten, replaced by the simple joy of being together.

“You’re a terrible dancer,” Y/n teased, her eyes sparkling with amusement as they swayed together.

Five chuckled, his eyes never leaving hers. “I know. But you make me want to be better.”

Y/n’s heart swelled with affection, and she rested her head against his shoulder, feeling his heartbeat through his soaked shirt. They continued to dance, the rain washing away the remnants of their argument and leaving only the pure, undeniable love they had for each other.

Eventually, the rain began to let up, and they were left standing in the gentle drizzle, both soaked but happier than they had been in a long time. Five kissed Y/n’s forehead, his lips warm against her cool skin.

“Let’s go inside,” he murmured. “We should probably dry off before we catch a cold.”

Y/n nodded, but as they walked back to their apartment, she squeezed his hand, a silent promise of understanding and forgiveness. They would still have their disagreements and arguments, but moments like this reminded them of what truly mattered.

Inside, they toweled off and changed into dry clothes, sharing quiet smiles and soft touches. As they settled on the couch, wrapped in a blanket together, Five turned to Y/n, his eyes filled with gratitude.

“Thank you,” he said simply. “For everything. For being patient with me.”

Y/n leaned her head on his shoulder, her heart full of warmth. “Always, Five. Always.”

They fell asleep that night, curled up together, knowing that whatever storms they faced, they would face them together. And sometimes, just sometimes, those storms would lead to dancing in the rain.

[jolalibrary]

12. stormy sky

frankie morales x f!reader | chapter twelve of do me yourself

summary: a meet-cute in a hardware store? impossible, out of the question. except, that's exactly what happens. a need for screws leads you to a broad-shouldered, brown-eyed man who you're sure is about to change your day, never mind your life.

wordcount: 3.6k chapter warnings: anxious!reader. allusions to bad mental health day/sadness. frankie calls you 'rainy' (paint-related from chp.1) no other descriptions or name used. no use of y/n. an: this one is dedicated to all those who sometimes just need a day, a hug and a love. i see you, and i love you (notes at the bottom).

prev chapter | series masterlist

key: frankie is in bold, you are in italics

It wasn’t often you felt the storm coming before it arrived.

At times, it was kind enough to make itself more obviously known than on other occasions. Sometimes, it just happened, almost beyond your control—a feeling that wells up inside, leaving you in a funk for a day or two.

An unexplainable force that commands you to smile outwardly but crumble inwardly.

Then, you rise again the next morning, or in a few, completely anew—like nothing had ever happened.

Occasionally, it rides in on unexplainable sadness that follows you like a rain cloud, spreading out into swelling grief that chokes you from the inside out. Other times, it would be a headache that bloomed behind your eyes into something uncontrollable, unmanageable, that only settled with bedsheets and darkness.

As soon as the email appeared in your inbox, you felt the latter. It throbbing, pulsing—beginning somewhere between your second to final nerve.

Things shifting; a wave forming. One which rose inside of you when you weren’t aligning with the person you were working with. It growing. Swelling. Expanding inside of you to the point you were sure it was going to dislodge bone and deform you forever. The words on the screen slowly blur, barely discernible as sentences and not just another paragraph of failure.

You knew this could happen. From time to time creative visions weren't always going to align. A thing you reminded yourself of regularly, routinely. Telling yourself it in the shower, mirror or as you make your third coffee past midnight.

It never does lessen the sting, though.

Just like now, when your hand can't seem to stop slamming the lid of your laptop shut, or when you find yourself nervously nursing your lower lip between your teeth, a bubbling sensation begins within. Your mind fractures, allowing a flood of negative thoughts to pour forth, corroding, spewing and slathering itself over everything good.

You clutch at your phone, feeling the rubber of your case. Not even thinking; not even checking the time—just calling.

And hoping.

Waiting.

As soon as you hear his sunshine-like voice say your name and 'Are you okay?' (practically spoken as one word), you feel yourself take a breath.

Becoming aware, only then, of how damp your cheeks are, that your hand is shaking as he repeats the question, more gently, less dunked in worry.

Surprisingly, it feels easy to say no. To unravel silently to him as he asks you a question you rarely have been asked: 'Do you want to talk about it or something different?'

It’s small, a simple thing. But your heart swells. Your shoulders unlodge themselves from your ears and your spine softens, making the choice, all with far too much ease. Taking in the sound of his voice as he clears it, you hear him ask lowly and gruffly if you're comfortable before he begins explaining how he has a non-permanent tattoo of a creature on his arm.

Not a dinosaur, Rainy. Not even something born or created from Jurassic Park—and how he was worried that due to its placement, people would think Harold’s had become rougher, more dangerous business.

“Dangerous?”

You swear you hear him shrug. “People might see me, all tattooed up and think the worst of the place.”

Giggling, your fingers massage your head. “Where is it?”

“Guess.”

For a brief moment, like when light shines from behind the clouds, you grin. Guessing, naming body parts you know it couldn’t be, but only to hear his laugh—bathe in the joy that he can only summon, rinse your woes in it in the hope tomorrow you wake lighter.

“Ass.”

“They’d definitely think Harold’s had fucking changed if my ass is out baby.”

Smirking, climbing into bed (his advice, one you happily took). “I think I’d visit more. It’s peachy.”

Peachy he scoffs, but you swear he’s grinning. Adjusting the t-shirt as you lie down—one of his, stolen (with permission) from the drawer you’d made for him, taking in the scent of him, all musk, wood and man as you welded it with the voice as you discover it’s on his cheek.

“How are you going to explain that one?”

His laugh flows down the phone, meeting your ear as you lean against your pillows, trying (with all that you have) to almost convince yourself that he was here—and not streets and streets away.

Morning, guess what doesn’t come off with soap and a scrub? A monster.

Hope you slept okay, baby. Can bring a coffee round on my break. Can even see if I can sweet-talk a larger one for you. Put it in a flask.

Rainy, you awake?

Baby I don’t mean to worry, I bet you’re fine, just busy caught up in doing work, but just let me know you’re okay.

I have the spare key still from that delivery. If you don’t want to see me, tell me.

You’re not sure of the time—drifting on wood out at the sea of your own making. Having done so for a while.

Distantly aware of the passing of time. That it was no longer 3 am, which had been the last time you'd last checked the time. The sun is far too bright through your curtains; desperate to claw its fingers in and yank you from your sheets.

It doesn't, can't.

Instead, you're floating; lost somewhere between awake and asleep—only being disturbed, rocked from it, at the sound of your front door opening. The stiffness of the door, the squeak of a floorboard. All things which should fill you with alarm, but barely make your head move.

Because it's thumping.

Pounding.

Too much stuffed in there to do anything but lie there. Split at the seams, the rest of you shaken like a snow globe.

It crosses your mind—briefly—that if they were here to rob you, they’d find very little to take. If they were here for you, they were most definitely mistaken. Your eyes struggle to stay open, even if your ears are tuning, trying to twist to each noise, only relaxing when you hear the intruder mutter fuck.

Because you know that fuck. Know the exact voice as though it lives in your head with the one that wouldn't quiet at 3 am.

For the most part, you have to admit Frankie is quiet. A skill he likely gained from his former life, the one where it was a necessity. He just didn’t know your home. You only being able to tell he’s here from the little things, like that he’s not completely aware your front door gets a little stuck when it’s really warm and that some floorboards are looser than others.

In the same way, he doesn’t know that if you open your partially shut bedroom door slowly, it groans like it’s being personally offended—

“Mierda.”

You’re sure you croak a Hi Frankie.

You think it anyway; wanting to give an invitation to come closer, to move further in as your eyes try to focus on the money tree named Moana. With each blink, the leaves slowly come into focus as you begin to adapt to the brightness cast in by, what you now assume must be the afternoon. Blinking when you see him crouch down, all soft curls and silky brown eyes.

“You worried me.”

Swallowing, struggling to shove the dryness back, you clear your throat. “Headache.”

He’s gentle, slowly placing his palm on the side of your head, thumb brushing over the skin above your brow as he shifts in his crouched position. “Worse than that time you told me about?”

“About the same.”

It’s quiet, the way he answers with okay. Thumb doing a final swipe before you hear a pop of his knee as he stands, a mumble of Be right back, baby before the floorboards creek and you can hear him opening and closing cupboards in your kitchen. With a sigh, you close your eyes briefly, being roused by a gentle breeze caressing your cheek to find he'd returned, a glass of water in one hand and a crinkling packet in the other.

“Do you want to get in?”

“Sure,” he says, in the familiar deep voice—as you shuffle with ease.

Not daring to lift your head, to move too quickly or violently. The mattress dips as the bed groans when he throws his feet up, sliding into the warmth you’ve been creating for hours, finding his eyes—how that worry is still there. It swirling, likely mixing with the gold flecks and deep browns you admire every chance you can get.

You worry you've spoiled them, tainted them. Made them swirl with sadness caused by worry. And the thought makes your insides hum, as though someone has plucked all your strings. The twang of it trying to mix with the other emotions you don't feel equipped to unpiece.

“I’m s—”

“Don’t. You have nothing to be sorry for,” he says, firmly. Not accompanied by any smile.

A thing you know he means when he asks you, voice wrapped in satin, if you can take a sip for him. His arm slides around you, trying to pull you close as you do more than that, but rather consume, drain, and finish the glass.

When you hand it back, you think about the fact that a you with your head not coming apart might have teased him, might even throw your leg over his and asked him if he thinks sex gets rid of migraines like it does headaches. But, the words catch, stick and clag to the roof of your mouth.

Something rising, the emotions you’d shoved down trying to weave up. Climb. Stick their spikes into your oesophagus and crawl out your mouth. That is, until his palm spreads out, the width of his fingers sliding further up and along your spine. The act aiding you, guiding you to take a measured breath. One that stammers, hammers. One that floods inside of your chest, rising and rising like it wishes to crash against a beach and take everything to shore—

But, then it eases, calms.

All being gobbled back up, calmer waves lapping as you shift, seeing him lit by muffled, golden yellow. Listening to his heart, the breaths he takes as you try to follow them—even the scratching of his beard as he tucks himself closer and asks nothing, except silently, to be here.

Eventually, when you stop counting seconds, the quiet is broken—not rudely, or unnecessarily, but just with: “What can I do?”

“You’ve done it.”

Turning to see him—to find the gaze you know will already be on you. To look at the face you think of and have truthfully only wanted to see, there. You begin to explain, letting it all unravel, it unspooling from your tongue. Maybe sharing too much, like that no one you’ve dated has shown up like this before, and that you don’t ever expect him to do it again.

Shifting closer, as you continue talking, eyes closed to not aggravate what is trying to lessen, as you add extra context, sharing what happens, that you’re okay—but that sometimes you’re not. Statements, mainly. Likely broken sentences you somehow mash into paragraphs. Filling in the gaps, from the last weeks to now, to the email and then the call. How it happened—

“Maybe it’s because I’m happy.”

“Hmm?”

Shrugging gently against him, your chest fills with air before you exhale it in one long drag through your nose. “Maybe because I’m happy, my work isn’t that good.”

“Maybe.” His fingers find your chin, turning your eyes to his. “Or maybe he’s got very high expectations and the two of you just aren’t a good fit.”

Chewing your lip, you lower your gaze. “Yeah, maybe.” Unconsciously turning into the palm resting on your jaw, his thumb stroking your cheek as you dare yourself to find his eyes. “I really hate people sometimes.”

Snorting, you feel his lips press to your forehead. “Let me tell you about this fucking asshole who tried to tell me the white paint he was buying wasn’t white.”

You press yourself closer to him ready to listen, hand sliding across his middle as you grasp more of his shirt, finding the smallest smile trying to crack through.

The next time you wake it’s to the smell of breakfast.

There's humming too, occasional words floating from the kitchen through the open door of your bedroom.

A coy smile already tugging across your cheek, the storm having waned, moved to the distance. But still, you test to see if it's safe as you lift from the pillows—sleep rubbed from your eyes as you spot the crumpled side of the bed. See the empty glass you’d drank before he held you, the jacket he’d been wearing when he’d showed up impromptu folded on the floor near the dresser.

Then, the grossness hits. The awareness that your skin feels claggy and awful, shuffling your feet from the bed, all the way to your bathroom.

His t-shirt peels from you with reluctance. The sadness eventually glides down the drain as the water falls down your skin—stepping out feeling refreshed.

Smiling as you head down the hallway, not forcing a smile as you slide your hands around his waist, fingers moving under the band of his tee, as they stroke over soft, warm skin and the dark hairs that swirl across his middle.

“Thank you,” you say, the words so large you hope they land with the weight you intend them to.

He turns and kisses you, whispering a don't against your minty mouth. Hovering for a moment there, before his mouth finds you again, more hungry, more laced with words as he presses you against the counter. Nowhere to go as he tilts your chin up. “You're worth showing up for, Rainy.”

You swear your heart triples in size as you bury your face in his tee and grin something stupid against him as he continues to sing whatever is playing out loud on his phone.

Do we need to go furniture shopping before or after you put the shelving in?

Probably before in case we need to order things. How’s your mini project coming along?

Well, I followed this tutorial by this very handsome man, and it seems easy to do, but my kitchen shelf isn’t straight.

Did you follow all of the instructions?

Now why would you assume I didn’t?

Because it sounds like you didn’t make sure it was level, baby.

Rude.

But did you?

I may have assumed that my eyesight was good.

How many holes do I need to fill in?

Oh, just the one.

In the wall.

Oh. Eight.

Since the moment he picked you up, you've been buzzing with excitement, just as you have been all week since he told you where he was taking you.

A skip in your step when you locked your door, the sun warming your skin in the short walk to the door he'd opened for you. Remembering how he teased you on the phone last night—you made a Pinterest board of what it could look like?—as you sat cross-legged on the couch, listening to him, shaking your head at the camera.

He handed you the coffee—brewed and made by him—only when you were seated. Another thing you were also sure had added to the swirling excitement in your stomach.

The drive, thankfully, hadn't been long. Undoing your belt when he kills the engine, his palm pressing down on your knee.

“No plants.”

“Are you asking me, or are you telling me?”

Leaning across the centre of his vehicle, he pulls your lips to his. “A very polite ask.”

“You don’t fancy your own Benedict or Henry?”

The tip of his nose touching yours, “I really don’t.”

You suggested other names as the two of you walked to the store's entrance, hand slotting inside his. Only silencing from your torment when your footsteps echoed softly against the glossy tile floors—blending with the rumbles of distant, murmured conversations, phone rings and furniture being rearranged.

Suddenly, the two of you were enveloped in the scents of polished wood and fresh upholstery, a scent you’re sure you used to like, but now really freaking loved.

Because this place is nice. The soft glow of overhead lights bathed the showroom in a warm, inviting ambience—casting a gentle spotlight on each carefully curated display. It was a scene straight out of a home decor magazine—every homeowner's dream.

"C'mon, Rainy," he coos, guiding.

Adding a soft this way from the back of his throat, becoming aware of his fingers brushing over the back of your jeans—along the pockets, along the expanse of your ass as you eye him, finding that same shy smirk that could explode into something more devilishly and ridiculously hard to resist.

A thing he already is without trying.

A thing which worsens when his arm comes around and keeps your side flush to his as the two of you make the way to the rows and rows of desks.

It makes sense to begin here.

To choose the ‘centrepiece’ of the room—as Frankie had explained on the drive—because everything has to fit around it. A thing you’d teased that you thought he was good at making things fit. To which he’d, playfully, replied that he was good, but he wasn’t fit-a-desk-and-a-dresser-an-armchair-and-shelving-good. A thing you'd promptly argued.

Stepping from his side, fingers brushing over the top of one, you glance over at them all. How they’re all vying for your attention, each with a unique allure. From sleek modern to rustic wood.

Catching Frankie's eye and with a mischievous grin, you take a seat behind one of the desks.

“Frank DIY’s office, how I can hammer you a good time today?” you say into the faux telephone, “Oh, I am sure Mr Morales would be able to… bend over and get himself in—I mean, you in.”

Frankie shakes his head, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as you get up and sit behind another, typing on the desk as a keyboard, pretending to stare at the unplugged monitor that had no computer with it. Then moving to another, one with a desk mat and no other items than a plant that looks chewed by tiny teeth, before pulling yourself on the wheels behind one with drawers and a keyboard but nil else.

“Oh, hello sir. Your 2 o’clock is here.”

“Is that right?” he asks, folding his arms. “What am I doing for this appointment?”

Smirking, fingers poised over the keys. “They wish to know how to check if a desk is stable. For two people.”

You hear him take in a breath. Lips threatening to spread into a smirk before he clears his throat. “To work at?”

Shaking your head, you grin.

“I’ll have to call my assistant in. She’s a handful, bad with drilling, but, she can help me.”

Laughing, almost hiccuping from it, he stares down at you—palms still very flat against the desk—as it fades and spreads into a smile that hurts your cheeks. “There it is.”

“There’s what?”

“My smile.”

Eyes widening, you snort. “Your smile?”

“Yeah,” he says. “Mine.”

Rolling your lips, standing from the wheely chair, you raise your brows. Moving around the edge, fingers dancing along the wood until you’re standing perfectly in front of him—eyeing him, as always unable to take your eyes from him.

“I think I like this one,” you add, running the tips of your fingers over the smooth surface of the desk. “There’s no price though—or sizing.”

Frankie glances at it, eyes flicking from each of the sides as he likely does math gymnastics. “You’ll have a lot of space for your dresser—the butterscotch one.”

“You just know that do you?”

“Grab a measuring tape and I’ll confirm it,” he grins.

Hand on hip, you arch a brow as Frankie's laughter fills the air, but you can see it in his eyes, the challenge.

“Get it yourself, Morales.”

Pinching your ass, he walks around it. “I’ll remember that.”

Shaking your head, he snaps a photo of the desk—staring at his screen to check it before locking it. His hand offered to you.

“Chairs?”

Leaning close, voice dropping, you—all velvet-like— whisper, “Your face not on offer when I’m working?”

Pink spreads up his neck, tongue clicking against his teeth, he smiles. Grins. His fingers tighten around yours as you’re sure his eyes actually sparkle. “From the way you weren’t able to form sentences last time, not sure you’d get much work done.”

The chairs, for how colourful and varying they were, felt less fun than desk shopping. Most of them were out of reach, high up on shelves—having to assess whether they were as comfortable as they looked or if it was a lie. A game that got less and less fun the more you trailed.

Frankie, likely guessing your joy was wavering, grabbed a basket at some point—allowing you to peruse the mini plant aisles and other decorative things. For your shelves, he said, for the shelves, you replied, grinning, even as you grabbed a particularly wiry cactus you named Cisco.

“You think you’ve got at least one of everything in here?”

Fake laughing, your elbow confidently finds his side—hearing a gruff huff from him. “Almost. I just need—”

Eyes spotting it, body moving all of its own accord as though the required item had been lit under a spotlight and heaven-like noises had begun playing. Fingers gliding over each, brushing over fleece fluff that left marks of your touch, to more knitted, firmer types, too many choices all to be shared at, contemplated.

You feel it before you see it. Pain flaring from your side as your head whips—meeting the disgruntled face of another shopper, the end of their cart still firmly against your side as though somehow, you were the one who was required to move. Even after he’d practically rammed the cart into you.

“Hey man, watch it,” Frankie says, arm sliding around you, pulling you close.

The smallest of gaps made, created, between yourself and the offending cart. The pain throbbing, the embarrassment simmering, as you fight rubbing the impacted sight as it continued to pound, hearing:

And maybe, if you had looked across, you would have seen the man scoff—observed the expression that made Frankie tense even more protectively next to you You would have noticed why his usually soft smile shifted into a thin line as a storm brewed inside of him before you heard:

“She's the one in the way.”

An adult-like response if you've ever heard one. A thing you shake your head at, but reach your hand up to touch Frankie's chest, tapping lightly as you watch him visibly swallow whatever had been about to come out of his mouth. Instead, he mutters a few choice curses under his breath, shooting a silent but determined look to the person as they mumbled the most pathetic apology known.

But, you didn’t, don’t.

Because, if you had, you'd have missed the way it all vanished when his eyes met yours. How it was erased, wiped all clean. Every affliction on his face, from the hardened eyes to the twitch of his nose, slipped away back to its recess.

“You alright, baby?”

Not one blame placed on you; not even a thought to do so, as his knuckles brush your cheek.

“I’m fine, Butterscotch. It's nice to meet protective you, though.” His eyes shifting from you quickly, the deepest of reds flooding his ears, you flatten your hand to his chest. “I appreciate it.”

Meeting your stare, he swallows. “You sure you're okay?”

Biting the inside of your cheek when his palm, warm and spreading heat, begins stroking over the offended area, you nod. Grinning.

Because if anything, you're pretty sure you might be in love with him.

NEXT CHAPTER ->

notes: i've drip fed rainy's difficult client for a few chapters now, as well as her little wobbles with anxiety. i know this isn't everyone's experience, but i think we can all relate to those days when getting out of bed just feels hard. i hope you're all okay, and just know i'm always here. no one is ever alone when the grey clouds are overhead, even if they clouds hope to make us feel that way. ily all, jo.

[urfriendlylocalidiot]

I wrote this on my lunch break lol

Little Moments w/ NewJeans

Just some random moments with NewJeans

Minji

Minji would hold any door for you, no questions asked. She also holds your hand, like a lot. At any given point, she holds the door open for you and then immediately grabs your hand. She doesn’t even realize that she does it until you point it out one day.

She would definitely be embarrassed about it and not do it for like a week straight, before eventually blushing and grabbing your hand saying, ‘well, your mine, and I want to hold you’

Hanni

Hanni would pack you lunch and even bring it to you if she could. She loves cooking in general, but even more so when it’s meals for you. Usually it’s Vietnamese food that she misses from home too and she wanted to share it with you.

Of course you’re more than happy to receive it and even started cooking her some things from your childhood as well. It’s become a nice date activity for the two of you.

Danielle

Danielle is your literal ray of sunshine. So it doesn’t shock you at all when she literally has something for you anytime she sees you. Usually it’s just coffee or boba, but sometimes it even becomes flowers and hoodies with a ‘D’ on the arm.

They’re the perfect pick-me-ups on top of seeing her after a long day. Of course, you do the same in ten-fold, and no matter how many of those things are in your arms, you will always pick her up and spin her when you see her.

Haerin

Haerin would make playlists for you. For literally every occasion, she made rainy day playlists and playlists just for certain times of day. However, the ones that always make you blush, are the ones that have your name and a heart emoji next to them.

They’re her way of showing love and you couldn’t ask for a better lover. Whenever she just hears a song that she thinks you would like, she’ll send it to you, whether it’s a song she randomly heard at 2am or a song that she’s practicing too.

Hyein

Hyein would send you pictures of literally everything she does in a day. Thank god for SnapChat otherwise you would literally have no storage left in your phone. She’d send you pictures of the sky, her outfit/s, any and everything she thinks would make you smile.

It never fails to bring a smile to your face, and you end up sending her pictures of the goofy things you do too.

[alwritey-aphrodite]

Hi hello hi my love, I was scrolling through your posts to make you a little collage and I saw that my bb boy finnick bbgorl love is on your list for your follower celebration !!

If it pleases you, would you write something domestic with the love of my life finnick? And congrats again, ilysm!!!

I love you!! And I love my babygirl <3

When Finnick returns from the beach, you’re still sound asleep, and he’d be a little jealous of your rest if you didn’t look so angel, so peaceful and perfect as you lay twisted in the sheets, mouth parted as you breath and eyelashes kissing your delicate skin. You’re bathed in warm sunlight sneaking in through the gauzy curtains you love so much that do so little to keep the light out.

He should shower, rinse away the sand and salt crystals sticking to his body, but he knows you love the way he smells when he comes straight from the ocean, like salt and oranges and something so deep and clean you’re like to drown in it, and the saltwater only makes his curls more pronounced and he’s loathe to make you frown when you see him, so he decides he won’t shower until you wake, until you smile and hug him with your nose pressed to his throat. He knows you’d kill him if he got sand in the sheets, so even though it pains him, he walks from the bedroom and leaves you to your slumber, missing you as soon as he closes the door.

It doesn’t take long for you to emerge, squinting against the sunlight and your hair sticking up in gravity defying designs.

“When’d you get back?” You ask, sounding sleepy and a little pouty that he’s been home and you didn’t know.

“Just now, I was just about to wake you,” he lies, but then you smile and everything’s worth it, and you’re stepping around the counter to wrap your arms around his waist, settling your face into the crook of his neck, and everything he’s ever survived is worth it for this very moment.

“You smell nice,” your voice is muffled against his skin but he can hear your smile, and it would be impossible to keep a smile off his face when you look and sound and act the way you do. He just hums in acknowledgment, too overwhelmed with too many feelings to trust his voice.

You detach from him, and he’s suddenly much colder than he’s ever been without your sleepy warmth at his back, but you’re yawning and stretching and he can’t complain when you look so lovely. Your legs are exposed, long expanses of skin and slight bruises and he knows what you’re going to ask before you even open your mouth.

“Wanna go back to the beach later? I miss the sun,” you say as if you aren’t his own personal sunshine, as if you wouldn’t eclipse the sun and moon and stars in your beauty, but it’s been dark and rainy for the past few days and he understands your craving for the sunshine and the heat that comes with it. He agrees readily, wanting nothing more than to see you smile, grin stretching from ear to ear and crinkling your eyes. Every time he sees you, he swears you’ve never looked more beautiful, only to think the same thing a second later, again and again as you continue to prove him wrong.

The day is lazy and balmy, heat filtering in from your open windows and your sun-warmed skin, having spent the rest of the morning stretched out along the beach, napping under the sun while Finnick took care to remind you to flip this way and that to protect your skin as much as possible. You’re still sleepy now, the sun making you drowsy, and Finnick feels much the same, lulled to the brink of sleep as you run your hair through his curls, longer and lighter than they’ve ever been as he settles into this peaceful life with you.

Sometimes he’s afraid to sleep, afraid to wake up, afraid that everything he’s had with you, the life you’ve carefully crafted hand in hand, will all be a magnificently painful dream that will disappear the second he opens his eyes. You’re always there, though, angelic asleep next to him or gently twisting your fingers through his hair or doing your own thing in one of the other rooms in your house.

Now, though, he couldn’t fight the urge to sleep even if he wanted to, the exhaustion from his early morning swim finally catching up to him and the steady rise and fall of your breathing relaxes him more than he’d ever think possible, and it’s only moments later that the two of you are fast asleep, bathed in golden light as the sun crawls from the sky. You’ll wake later and complain about being too well rested to sleep through the night, but once you find yourself wrapped in your soft sheets and Finnick’s soft embrace, you’ll fall asleep again, peaceful and perfect and the routine will start again, like the most wonderful dream.

[monettsuki]

Love you to the end

Angell x fem!chief

Genre: Angst (with a happy ending kind of?)

Idk if this is good or not, obviously not proofread

Second AN: this is formulated so bad I might just rewrite it soon bye

When longing is a feeling that you can't shake off, even after she had left a long time ago.

You fed the goldfish once again, having provided them a much bigger aquarium, now lavishly decorated and having regular water changes as expected.

Turning on the record player that once belonged to a person now missing from your life, that once sat in the dimly lit bedroom that was always cluttered, where you tucked in someone that at first meant you harm but in the little time you had spent together she seemed to warm up to you, her cold exterior actually making her approachable.

Days are passing by, living this lie

Not knowing what we're looking for.

Gray, these walls are gray and there's no sky

There is no hope, there is no soar

I know somewhere there must be more

You started asking yourself what did you actually miss about her? What did you actually want from Angell? Was it love or just a comfortable feeling between two people that just got accustomed to having the other around and then missed their presence when they could no longer be around. You hoped for the day when Angell would be back and maybe then you'd share a bed, being in her arms and seeking out comfort for all these cold and sleepless nights you had spent dreaming of her, cooking red bean soup for her as the familiar song, always playing in her headphones would be heard.

A thought that maybe you had gone a bit insane while you had been with her appeared in your mind. How could you wish for closure with someone that had initially kidnapped you, and was about to hurt you in ways that could have put you in a coffin. Maybe there was a possibility that she would have attended the funeral, or there could've been a possibility for you to spend your night in the room that was always messy, in the same bed Angell found solace in and hoped for good dreams.

For you she was the good dream, the good dream that you experience only once and you always remember it as one of the best you've ever had. Sometimes you wished that she'd just show up out of nowhere, not to stay but just to visit, to see how you're feeling, maybe pat your back while she's at it for a job well done, not dying on her watch that is.

How have you become her sunshine in such a short amount of time? Maybe you could even drag her out of the abyssal sea she found herself in, having embraced death and became a version of it. But then she left her sunshine, and she was your moon, the moon that protected your nights and rested in your dreams, or watched over you with your head in your hands on restless nights,nights spent listening to the song that reminded you of her.

Days turned into weeks, weeks into months, you continued going on about your days as usual, trying to forget about Angell even if you dedicated your nights to her. Wanting to feel her presence again, to seek comfort for all these soulless nights you spent without being in her arms.

One rainy evening, a good decision seemed to be to take a long walk, maybe the rain and coldness of the nighttime would push away any thoughts of Angell that remained in your mind, something which you have been trying to do for a long time.

Fate seemed to have other plans that night, as when you found yourself on the ground with some gangsters that were after your head someone took care of them just like that. You could barely make out the silhouette of the one that stood in the shadow, yet recognising the blade held by that person right away. Jumping upwards, even if your limbs ached a little bit from the hits you got, ultimately making your way to touch the figure's shoulder.

In the end it was Angell, who had somehow become an angel that just saved you ,ending up again in her grasp after all this time although this time it was something that both parties seemed to want.

At this point both of you were soaked by the rain, hearing Angell let out a chuckle, picking up your umbrella as the two of you started walking in a comforting silence, reminiscent of the times when you both sat down on the couch which she always seemed to stay on before retreating to her room.

The walk back to your home was a daze, not even realising that you found yourself close to Angell, somehow having convinced her to stay for the night,finding yourself wrapping your arms tightly around her, knowing that the next morning the bed will be cold and empty, no remnant of her presence remaining. Not only was she holding you close to her, you realized she had kissed your cheek, the second sign of affection that she newly showed to you, it felt like she was confessing silently, something you had grown accustomed to for her to be silent, seemingly not liking to speak much.

She started humming a melody, one you had associated with her, as if to lull you to sleep, with no promise if she will stay, her fingers tangling into your hair, her chin on your head as she held you in a warm embrace, something you've never expected from her.

.

.

.

But the next morning you found yourself still in her arms, being held closely as you could feel her chest rising and falling, sitting up and making sure you didn't wake her up, because she needed a good night's rest, now watching her sleep and wanting to touch her, only to make sure that it wasn't all a dream.

Your wrist had been caught swiftly in a firm grip , Angell being wide awake now and hearing the familiar words that she had been resting her eyes, which was a complete lie. She let go of your wrist, her eyes being once again closed as you leaned down to kiss her forehead, something which prompted her to pull you back into her arms, mumbling something under her breath that she didn't want to get up yet.

This was a good dream for both of you it seemed, one that could be neverending if she just came with you.

Closing your eyes you decided to put that thought away, not wanting to disturb her good dream, which seemed to just be laying in bed with her former captive, now her sunshine, a sunshine that she had decided long ago to protect, even if she was something that couldn't be contained, both of you knew that maybe this could work out in some way. That if some effort was put into it.

.

.

Angell was now watching you intently after she had dragged your body back down next to hers, letting out a relaxed sigh, wishing to make this dream last forever. But to do that it meant that she had to make a sacrifice, and now it mattered how willing she was to do so.

Kissing the top of your head while restraining herself from kissing her cheeks again, or kissing your lips. She was asking herself how would it feel if she cupped your cheek and then closed the distance between your lips. Would you reciprocate the kiss? Was it something that would make you push her away or pull her in for more? But for now she only wishes to have you in her arms, for as long as humanly possible.

[ilguna]

☼ my tears ricochet pt2 (Finnick Odair) ☼

summary; it’s been six months since you were banished from district four. since then, you’ve been trying to lay low and keep your nose clean. one night, you and gale go to the local bar to wind down after a long week, and he helps you come to a realization that changes everything.

warnings; swearing, prostitution mention, alcohol, arson, death mention, mental health talk, torture.

wc; 6.5k

part one.

notes; hints of Gale slander but fish are friends not food!!

--

The July summer breeze feels nice against your hot skin, causing you to close your eyes to enjoy it properly. It’s even better this way. You reach back to lift the hair off your neck, which is slightly damp from sweat after working all day in the sun. A chill goes down your spine when the wind hits the spot just right.

There’s a lot of similarities between District Two and Four that you've come to notice over time, but the heat is not one of them. It’s very dry here, there’s a lot of desert and very little rain to sustain any real plant life. Any that do exist have already evolved to live off of practically no water. For miles, all you can see is dirt and half-dead bushes, 

While back home, you’re located right on the coast, allowing for more rainy days than plain sunshine. The trees, grass and flowers are always fed and healthy. Even if it doesn’t rain, there are clouds to block the heat from beating on you, making every afternoon a pleasant one. 

This weather difference alone isn’t enough to make you feel homesick, but there are so many other factors at play that contribute to it. When you first moved to District Two, you had a feeling that you’d never be able to get used to living here. It’s been six months since then, and you’re still a stranger when you walk the streets.

The only familiar thing—or rather, person—here is Gale.

Except, he isn’t from home. He’s not one of your childhood friends, or a neighbor from your previous neighborhood. You can’t talk to him about what could be going on since you got banished. He’s from District Twelve. The only thing you have in common is the fact that you’re both rebels.

You can’t even use your banishment as a way to bond with him, because he deserved what he got, and you were wrongly accused. While Finnick had framed you for allegedly giving the Peacekeepers your next steps—Gale had actually indirectly got Primrose Everdeen killed through one of the ideas that he developed with Beetee.

He might not have been the one to send out the bombs, because former President Alma Coin had to approve that order, but he was the one to suggest using it. Gale was desperate to win the rebellion at any cost, until he paid the biggest price.

There’s a good chance that Gale will never be able to go back to District Twelve after what he did. Especially since Katniss, Peeta and Haymitch have decided to stay and continue living there. Although, with how well things are going in Two with the volunteer work, it probably hasn’t crossed his mind. 

It’s not exactly easy work. Most of the time, you don’t have enough time to be thinking about anything other than what your hands are doing. It’s mind-numbing in a good way, and usually you feel pretty accomplished by the end of the task. 

The work deals with a lot of construction and beautification. Usually, you don’t get paid for it. Sometimes they’ll give out free lunch if it’s going to be a particularly long day of tearing down bricks and planting greenery. There’s been a few times where you’ve been so caught up in the work, that you went all night.

It’s gotten you a lot of recognition from the people that are native to Two, which is not what you’re striving for, but it’s nice to not have to worry about the hatred as much. When you first arrived at the train station six months ago, it was pretty clear that a lot of people held prejudice against you. Over time, they’ve gotten curious and have bothered you to ask what happened.

It takes a lot of explanation and convincing, but eventually they believe you. Or, at the very least, they take a neutral standpoint and choose not to pick a side entirely. You know that it’s a lot of he-said, she-said. It’s hard to know who’s telling the truth in a serious situation like that.

On one hand, it’d be nice to believe Finnick, because he’s the one that first came forward with the story. Plus, he’s been Panem’s darling for so long that it would be heinous for him to do something so selfish and seemingly out-of-character.

On the other, you have never done something so snake-ish ever. Everyone should know that if a situation like that happens, you would take the hit of being taken for the greater good. It’s your one life versus several. As terrifying as it would’ve been, you could’ve handled whatever the Capitol had to offer for you at that moment. 

Of course, when you tell people the real side of the story, you take a massive hit for not telling the group when you had the chance before the sewers. The issue is that Finnick had been keeping a close eye on you, under the guise that he wanted to protect you, but also to ensure that your mouth stayed shut. 

If you could go back and change the situation, you would. 

“(L/n), (Y/n).” A woman calls.

You open your eyes, briefly being blinded by the sun while you turn to face Azalea. She’s the head director here in District Two for the volunteer work, she keeps everything very organized. It’s less stressful when she’s the one taking care of things for the day.

“Yes?” You ask, finding her at the front of the crowd.

She’s a short, blonde woman with tan skin. She holds up the clipboard, showing you the paper for a second. All you can gather is the fact that it’s a signup sheet, so you begin to move forward, carefully brushing past some of the workers in the process.

“What time did you get here today?” Azalea asks, once you’re in front of her.

“Um—“ You glance over your shoulder to search for Gale, because he’s the one with the watch. He keeps track of the time and when you go on break.

“Seven-twenty.” Gale says from beside you, making you jump slightly. “We both got here at that time.”

Azalea hums, writing that down in the time slot next to your names. You look over Gale, who you haven’t seen in a good fifteen minutes. There’s a smudge of dirt beneath his eye, so you lick your thumb, reaching to rub it away. He dodges your finger, face twisting in disgust.

“You look dirty.” You tell him, wiping the dirt off of his skin. “Stop being a baby, I’ve seen you eat a potato that touched the bar floor before.”

“It was expensive.” 

“Are either of you available tomorrow for a paid job?” Azalea interrupts. “I’ve got a house call from Enobaria Golding that needs to be done, and no one is signing up for it.”

“What’s it for?” You ask.

“She’s turning Victor’s Village into a memorial, I believe she just needs help moving furniture around in some of the houses. As well as cleaning up the neighborhood’s fountain, loose leaves, and pavement.”

You look at Gale with raised eyebrows, his lips are pressed together. “What time?”

“Whenever you can, she thinks it’s going to be a three day job at the very least. She’s paying over a hundred per hour, it used to be lower, but got raised because it’s urgent.” Azalea looks between you two.

“I’m in.” You tell her, “We could have it done in three days.”

Gale sighs, “Yeah, sign me up too.”

She begins to write your names down on a separate paper. “Will it be a big deal if I close it, then? I don’t think I’ll be able to find others. No one’s keen on Enobaria.”

“That’s fine.” You agree, “I know her, we’ll get along. Is it a contract?”

“I can make it one.” Azalea nods. “Swing by later tonight, I’ll have it ready.”

“Sounds good, Azalea. Thank you.” You nod.

“Are we good to go?” Gale asks, beginning to take a step back.

“Yup. Be good, you two.” She points the end of her pen in the middle of you guys, and then turns her attention back to the group that’s waiting to sign out.

Gale takes charge on leading you out of the center square. With how tall he is and the aggressive look on his face, he clears a path faster than you can. Besides, no one wants to be more than three feet near him. And yes, that has to do with his own reputation. 

“What’s your plan for tonight?” Gale asks over his shoulder.

“Well, since we’re probably going to get a late start tomorrow, I wouldn’t mind going to the bar tonight.” You raise your eyebrows.

He hums, “Right now?”

“Sure, why not?”

With that, Gale changes direction, heading for the good bar on the other side of District Two. When you first came here, you spent a lot of time bar hopping. In those weeks, you figured out that the fancy places were not, in fact, better. They were just more expensive. 

It wasn’t until you found the dirty place on the corner of Upper Heights, did you realize that they charge less for better quality. The only perk of going to those higher-end places is the fact that you can brag that you went there. You don’t talk to many people outside of Gale, and he was the one you took with you.

Well, that’s not entirely right. You didn’t take him with you—he tagged along, despite knowing that he was unwelcome. You didn’t like him very much to begin with back in District Thirteen because you thought what he did to Peeta’s family was pretty shitty, so you tried to steer clear of him as much as possible. The way he acted during the Capitol storming just solidified your ideas.

When Gale heard that you were going to be staying in District Two, he attached to you. You tried several different ways to get him to leave you alone, ranging from practically verbally abusing him to flat out ignoring. He didn’t care, he was ready for whatever you had to throw at him.

It eventually hit the point where you figured that you might as well deal with him. At the time, it would’ve been easier to put up with Gale than to try and convince someone that you were worthy of a conversation. He was an ass to put up with, and you caught yourself wondering how Katniss hung around him for so long.

In the end, it worked out. You and Gale can talk to each other without arguing. You two have a lot more in common than you originally thought, too. Although, some of his ideas are questionable, and you usually have to stop him from talking to keep that peaceful state.

“I’m surprised you want to drink so early.” Gale remarks.

“It’s almost eight o’clock.” You reason, motioning to the sky. “It’s not my fault it’s still bright out.”

The sun is slowly setting on the horizon, getting ready to say goodbye for the night. Which is good, because you’re tired of the heat. Unfortunately, it’ll still be warm out, even with the flaming ball in the sky gone. At least the bar has air conditioning. 

Gale reaches for the handle, pulling the door open. He holds it for you as you enter first, allowing you to choose where to sit tonight. You head for the table in the corner, the one that lets you have a perfect view of the entire room, and a quick escape for the door. 

Gale begrudgingly takes his jacket off and sets it on the chair that has its back to the room. “Your usual?”

“Yes, and water, please.” You tell him, reaching for your wallet. “I’ll pay for the first round. We can alternate tonight.”

Gale holds his hand out, watching as you drop the cash in his hand. He counts it as he walks away, heading for the bar top. You watch as he and the bartender go back and forth as the drinks are made. A minute later, Gale comes over, placing the glasses on the table. 

You start with the water, parched. They provide water, but they keep the bottles to recycle them, even if you aren’t finished with what’s inside. Once half the cup is empty, you start on your mixed drink, watching as Gale takes a sip of straight brown liquor.

“Do you remember what Azalea was saying about next week?” You ask, watching as Gale’s face twists.

“You mean the beach clean up?” Gale asks.

“Yeah, she said District Four, right?”

“I think. And whatever else is beside it. They’ve got their own coordinators over there, so they aren’t taking volunteers. Trust me, I tried.”

“They would’ve denied me, anyway.” You roll your eyes.

“I don’t know, Azalea hesitated. She said that we’d be useful, but the deadline passed a couple days ago.”

“Any victors going?” You ask.

He scoffs, “No, the last I heard, everyone’s hands off.”

You hum, resting your head on your hand. You get about the same information that Gale does when it comes to the victors, usually in snippets. 

Enobaria’s here, obviously, in District Two. You didn’t know that she was doing a memorial for the Two victors until today, which is nice of her. You can’t imagine how hard it is to be the only surviving victor of a district. Especially since Lyme was alive for the rebellion, but got killed during the storming of the Capitol.

Speaking of which, Beetee’s working in the heart of it under Commander Paylor. You’re not sure what he’s doing exactly, likely something with electronics or the defense system, if you had to guess. All you know is that he was able to resume basically what he had been before, this time for a better cause.

As for Katniss, there’s a lot of mixed news on her. Some say that she’s doing over-the-phone therapy appointments with Doctor Aurelius, mandated by Paylor to assess Katniss’s state of mind periodically after the assassination of former President Snow. Others tell you that she’s been skipping calls and hasn’t been out of her house in who-knows how long. 

After everything that happened, you just hope that she's doing okay. 

Peeta is doing his own sessions, also with Doctor Aurelius. Except, he’s not in Twelve, he’s still stationed in the Capitol for the time being. There’s a lot of progress regarding the hijacking, but it’s hard to know for sure if permanent damage hasn’t been done. And they can’t really test that out, either.

Haymitch… could honestly be anywhere. You heard he was forced to attend rehab in District Thirteen a second time, getting him completely sober. He’s fallen off the map since then, so your best guess is that he’s still there. You know post-war that he began to struggle with his sobriety after losing so many longtime friends.

This brings you to the few people that you could care less about. Starting with Johanna, she’s in District Seven, enjoying her life. She isn’t doing anything of importance, just wasting away in her own victor house, letting people wait on her. They tried to get Doctor Aurelius to rope her in, but she’s resilient. She doesn’t care about bettering herself, even though it’s pretty needed after the torture.

Annie Cresta is living in District Four, right alongside your ex-boyfriend and traitor, Finnick Odair. You don’t get much information on them, and it has to do with the fact that you get pissed off at the sound of their success. From your understanding, they live guilt-free and happy in their mansions, sleeping in their own beds.

When you ask for updates regarding Four, it’s a hit or miss if you get anything of importance. For example, they could tell you that fishing’s down, and it has been for the past couple weeks. Or, they’ll lay it on heavy, by telling you that your childhood home and your victor home are nothing but foundation.

You remember how dark the world became when you heard the news. Finnick told you on that runway in City Circle that they’d burnt your victor house down, something that you’d be able to live with. It didn’t have the prized possessions of your parents and siblings, or the pictures that captured you growing up. The only physical memory of the family you once had.

Apparently, not long after Finnick returned to Four, they’d set your home ablaze, too.

A part of you wonders whether or not that was encouraged by him. God forbid if you ever find out that’s the case. You might not be very threatening now, but nothing will stand in the way between your fists and his face if he told them to take away your last safe haven in Panem.

Anyway, when you were told the news about your childhood home, it almost became your breaking point. You’d been in Two for about three weeks at that point, and you were in no sound state to hear something so heavy. Especially on top of everything else that had been happening in the last year.

“Tomorrow’s July fourth.” Gale says, kinda changing the topic.

“Reaping Day.” You agree, nodding, taking another sip of your drink. “This will be the first year where a Hunger Games hasn’t taken place in Seventy-Six years.”

Gale stares off at the bar for a couple of quiet seconds. “What was it like being a victor?”

“Was?” You repeat. “You act like that’s a title that’s been taken away. I am a victor.”

He rolls his eyes. “You know what I mean.”

“Still.” You mutter. “I don’t know, what was it like being a worker in the mines?”

Gale’s face scrunches up. “You’re really comparing my district work to victor life?”

“I’m not saying district work isn’t hard or dangerous, especially with the mining stories that you were telling me. However, only one of us has been reaped twice and fought in both Hunger Games.” You remind him. “I have killed more than six people on purpose with three indirect kills following that.”

“You act like that’s something to brag about.” He squints at you.

“I’m not saying it is. All I’m saying is that victor life isn’t easy, either. And if you need an example, take Annie Cresta.”

“Annie Cresta is an anomaly.”

“But Katniss isn’t.” You raise your eyebrows. “I bet she had PTSD following her Games, and couldn’t hold a bow without remembering what she used it for inside of the arena.” 

Gale makes a face, tilting his head. “You’re not wrong.”

You raise your hand in his direction, because you knew you weren’t wrong. “Anyway, to answer your question—before the rebellion, there were hard parts and there were easy parts. Especially when it came to mentoring.”

His eyes land back on you. “How was that?”

“A nightmare.” You tell him. “There’s a reason why a lot of the victors ended up like Haymitch. Or addicted or morphling.” You swish the ice around in your glass.

“I’ll grab the next round.” Gale reaches for your cup, you move your hand.

“Thanks.”

He slides off his chair, heading away. With the questions he’s asking, you’re going to be drinking the entire night. He’s never been interested in victor life before, but you suppose there wasn’t a lot of opportunity to ask questions with Katniss. Besides, she’s not nearly as experienced as you are in that area.

He could ask you anything about the Capitol, and you’d have an answer for him. There was one point in your career where you had to be studying their mannerisms because Snow was getting ready to put you on the chopping block. Your victory almost completely outshone Finnick’s, you were going to be his ticket out of the prostitution industry, but your popularity died quickly.

For what reason, you’re not sure. All you know is that Snow sent you an ‘I regret to inform you…’ letter, telling you that you’ve been shelved. As if that was supposed to be upsetting, instead of relieving. You even remember crying in your room, praising whatever intervened and saved you.

When Gale comes back, he’s got more questions, “Wasn’t there good aspects about it, too?”

Your face twists as you take the first sip of your drink. “I guess. Besides the money and the house, we were free to do basically what we wanted in the Capitol, in moderation.”

“You weren’t trapped inside of the Tribute Center?” He asks, eyebrows raised.

“No,” You scoff, “We were anything but trapped. We were encouraged to enjoy what the Capitol had to offer, we were walking advertisements of the Hunger Games. I didn’t take advantage of it though, I’d only been on them a couple times before the Quarter Quell.”

“Why?” 

“They couldn’t just set us free, obviously. They had to keep an eye on us somehow, and that was done through the street cameras. They’re everywhere.” You shake your head. “I mean, you can’t go a single block without them.”

Gale pauses, putting his glass back down on the table. “Were they on the street when we were passing through?”

“Yeah, of course. The cameras are less frequent on the outskirts because there’s not a lot of crime in the Capitol, but they exist. It gets more difficult around the President’s Mansion because that’s a huge security risk.”

Gale stares at you, unmoving.

You look over his face, and then down to his drink. “What?”

“Are you hearing yourself?” He asks.

“Yeah?”

Gale smiles a little bit. “Never mind. What was your favorite thing to do in the Capitol?”

“It had to be the bars, or the clubs. I couldn’t go to very many of them, though. Which meant that I spent a lot of time in cafe’s.”

“Why couldn’t you go to clubs?”

“Finnick, mostly. He was a darling.” You rub the rim of your glass. When you look up at Gale, you raise your eyebrows. “You know, the whole prostitution thing. They always knew where he was because of the cameras. I’m lucky I never got pulled in. I came close several times.”

Gale presses his lips together. “They’d watch the street through the camera?”

“Yup, and they’d send high officials to our location to steal Finnick for the night, because he couldn’t say no. They could even play the footage back to see where we were coming from.”

“How far back?”

Your eyes wander away from his face. “I’m not entirely sure.” You lean back in the chair. “I mean, the Capitol used to pull footage from a year before of the victors to prove there were fashion trends.”

“So you’re telling me that they have footage of the streets from a year ago? Or at least, six months ago?” Gale presses.

“They should. I don’t know what good it would do now.” You tell him, locking eyes with him.

Gale doesn’t say anything, staring at you intensely. You open your mouth to ask what’s wrong with him, but end up sealing your lips, eyes narrowing in his direction. He does this to you sometimes when you’re missing a piece of a puzzle, and he’ll refuse to tell you what it is because he wants you to work it out.

It has to do with the cameras in the Capitol, because that’s what he’d been asking about. It’s such an insignificant detail, you’re not sure why he’s hung up on it. He had to have known there were cameras, that’s how they kept track of where you were in the sewers. If they hadn’t already known where you’d be going, of course.

The Peacekeepers found you on the street, thanks to those cameras. They probably even planned it down to the second to make sure that you were out of sight, in case any of the others came out of the apartment complex to look for you. Just like how they’d done to you and Finnick before…

You jerk upright, eyes widening as you watch Gale break into a smile. “Oh my god, there might be footage of Finnick and I on the street. And it might even have audio.”

“I was wondering when you’d get it.” He laughs.

You look around the bar, searching for the clock to find the time. It’s almost nine o’clock, the Justice Building closes at nine-thirty. Since it’s Friday, it’ll be closed through the weekend, unless there’s an emergency. And they won’t count your situation as one.

“I need to go.” You tell Gale, sliding off your chair, pulling your jacket over your arm. “I have to speak to Mayor Sybil.”

“Right now?” Gale asks, face twisting.

“Yes, right now.” You tell him. “I’ll meet you back at the house.” 

You head for the door in a rush, just barely getting the gap open wide enough for you to slip through before you’re running down the street. The Justice Building is on the other side of the town, where Azalea organizes the volunteers. You know it's a fairly long walk but you’ve never had to run there before.

You clutch the jacket to your chest, one arm pumping viciously at your side. You try your best to maneuver through the main and side streets of Upper Heights. Unfortunately, it’s not late enough for the town to be empty, especially not since it’s leading into the weekend. You receive several stares, people fully stopping to watch you run by, and heads turning at the sound of your feet crunching against gravel and cobblestone.

You try to keep your breathing as even as you can, remembering the rigorous training for the Quarter Quell that Mags put you through. She knew better than anyone what to expect. If it weren’t for her, you would’ve been unprepared.

The run feels like forever, but can’t be anymore than fifteen minutes—maybe twenty at the most. The second you see the Justice Building, a smaller boost of energy enters your system, and it’s the last push you need to make it to the doors in time. Right before the receptionist tries to lock it.

Her key is in the door when you push it open, gasping for air, wiping the sweat from your eyes. The cool air from the vent hits you in the face, easing the burning pain in your face. 

“Excuse me.” The receptionist says, her face is twisted. “We’re closed for the night.”

You shake your head, breathing through your mouth as you look up at the clock on the wall, which is right above a bench. Good, you need to sit down, or you’re going to lay on the tile floor. You bet that it’s cold.

“You don’t close…” You manage to get out, trailing off for a few breaths. “For another ten minutes.”

She presses her lips together. “We’ve had a slow day, so we’re closing early today.”

“This is urgent.” You breathe. “I need to see Mayor Sybil.”

“You can come back and visit her on Monday.”

“Respectfully, that’s not happening.” You tell the receptionist. “We can waste time arguing, or you can just bring me to her.” 

She glares at you, but starts walking down the hallway, presumably to the mayor. You get off the bench, following her. It’s a fairly quiet walk, if you tune out the stomping of her heels against the floor. And the occasional annoyed sigh.

She stops in front of the mayor’s door, knocking on the wood next to the crystal glass as a courtesy, before swinging the door open without permission to enter.

Mayor Sybil must be used to this, or doesn’t care. She looks up from her rectangular glasses with raised eyebrows. She looks between you two for just a moment, and then a little smile comes to her face as she gets to her feet.

“Miss (L/n), to what do I owe this pleasure, tonight?” She asks.

“I’ve been wrongly accused.” You tell her, stepping inside of the room. You drop your jacket onto the chair in front of her desk. “And there’s proof.”

Sybil winces, beginning to tilt her head, which means she’s going to start doubting you, and you don’t necessarily blame her. For the longest time, you’d come to the Justice Building and beg for them to reconsider. Sybil knows your routine by now.

“Listen, (Y/n), you know—” She starts.

“No.” You cut her off, glancing at the receptionist. “I need to speak to Sybil in private.” You tell her, just before closing the door in her face. “Sybil, the Capitol has cameras on the street.”

When you look at her, you can see that she’s placed her glasses on the top of her head, rubbing her nose. “Go on.”

“The cameras should’ve caught the conversation between Finnick and the Peacekeepers, and there’s going to be audio to go along with it.” You pull out the chair, stepping around the arm to sit down. “Will you please get Paylor on the phone?”

“Promise me this isn’t a waste of time.” She says, sighing.

“I promise I’m not wasting your time.” You tell her.

—

“If I were you, I’d put the guns down.” Finnick advised in a calm, collected voice. “It wouldn’t be a very good idea to kill us on the street, unless you want to alert the people we’re with, of course. It could give them a good running head start.”

There was a tense silence that passed between you and Finnick and the Peacekeepers that had just evacuated the truck, large guns in their hands. Although, it’s not entirely obvious through the playback, because your faces are hidden from the camera because of the angle it’s sitting at. You have a perfect view of the Peacekeepers, though. 

“Who says we have orders to kill you?” The Peacekeeper shoots back. “We have orders from President Snow to take you by any means necessary.”

“That’s not a good idea, either.” Finnick’s voice is smug. You remember the smirk that was on his face. “If you try to take us by force, we’ll make sure our companions are aware you’re out here. Same cards dealt.”

You watch your past self shift nervously on her feet, shaking her head. Finnick doesn’t move from where he stands, arms still raised in the air. The Peacekeepers begin to create a half-circle around you two, because it was more important to bring some back to the mansion, instead of being empty handed.

“We can make a deal.” Finnick offered cooly, “If you’re willing to make one.”

“Like what?” The Peacekeeper humored him.

“I can tell you where you can catch all of us together.” He told them plainly. “We figured out there are too many Pods here on the street, because we have a device. We plan on going down into the sewers to evade the Pods. The best time to come and get us would be then, because it’s going to be a maze down there. And you’ll have the advantage.”

There’s a few gasps that fill the room you’re sitting in. Your face begins to twist, eyes focusing on the screen. Your past self lowers her arms, in the middle of realizing that Finnick is selling your group of friends out to save himself. And less importantly, you.

If only the people around you could see the horror that crossed your face in that moment. As you stood there hopelessly. It was too late to stop Finnick or save the situation. What could you do? Kill the Peacekeepers all by yourself? Claim Finnick was lying? 

For six months, you’ve been blamed for being a bystander if what you were claiming about Finnick was true, but it was never that simple. They would stand there dumbfounded, too.

“As long as you don’t interfere before we get to the apartment and down in the sewers, we won’t tell the squad about this encounter.” Finnick told them, keeping control of the situation. He lowered his arms, but you didn’t dare to move, watching as he held out his hand to shake the Peacekeeper’s, wanting to seal the deal.

In complete silence, they shake hands. “Let’s pack up and roll back to Headquarters.” The main Peacekeeper told the others, not bothering to acknowledge the conversation he’d just had with Finnick.

The two of you stood there and watched as they all got back inside of the armored truck, before driving down the block. They took the soonest left, and disappeared out of sight completely. It wasn’t until you were sure that they were gone, did you lower your arms.

Finnick began to lead the way back to the apartment, a gentle hand on your lower back to guide you down the sidewalk. After five minutes of total silence, he cleared his throat. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

The camera angle changes because you’re leaving the view of the first one, and the audio is getting quieter. There’s a gap of silence as the microphone struggles to pick up the conversation, meaning it misses your entire response. Which consisted of something snarky and along the lines of, “What about them?”

The audio comes back in time to catch Finnick. “Don’t say anything to them about what happened. It’ll screw everything up, and put us back into danger.”

You tear your eyes from the television, swiveling around in your chair to find Finnick sitting across the room. All the color has been drained from his skin, face dropped entirely as his truth spills out. And this is only the beginning.

Finnick’s eyes flicker over to yours, you see that they’re watery. A smile comes to your face when you shake your head at him. This won’t work on you. You have no sympathy for the man that lied and got you shunned from the community of your home district. 

“What the hell is wrong with you?” You snapped at Finnick, disgusted. “They’re our friends, we’re supposed to be a team! We wouldn’t have made it this far without them!”

“This is what has to be done if you want to make it home.” Finnick told you. “We don’t have a choice. Now that they know where we’re going next, there’s no point in changing plans. The sewers are our best bet.”

“That’s not true anymore.” You seethed. “We’re over, Finnick. I can’t be with you.”

You raised your hand, waving him off when he tried to grab you. He let you take the first couple of steps away, and then loosely followed you from a distance to make sure he wouldn’t set you off. The camera follows you back to the apartment complex, where you go inside, and the feed ends.

You look around the room from person to person, finding most with solemn faces as they realize they trusted the wrong victor. President Paylor inhales, as if she’s going to speak, and then she lets it go with a shake of her head.

Even Plutarch has a grimace on his face, because this is not how they want to picture their darling Finnick Odair. After the sacrifice he made by telling Panem about his trauma, he should not be painted in this light. 

“It’s not tampered with.” Beetee breaks the silence, adjusting his glasses. “If any of you were wondering. It couldn’t have been, this is raw footage straight from the Capitol’s systems.” He laces his fingers in front of him on the table.

“I want this aired.” You tell Paylor, she locks eyes with you. “I want the entirety of Panem to know that Finnick is the heartless asshole that sold out the Star Squad, and that it wasn’t me.”

“I don’t think that’s necessary.” She tells you.

“Why’s that?” You ask her, eyebrow twitching upward briefly.

“There was no harm done.” 

A scoff leaves your mouth as you get to your feet, trying to be the same eye level as her, since she refused to sit in a chair. “No harm done?” You repeat. “Are you sure? His lies were aired on Katniss’s trial. Everyone in Panem was tuned in to hear it. He humiliated me, and none of you would fucking believe me when I told you the truth.”

“Unfortunately—“ Plutarch begins, trying to help Paylor.

“I got cast out of District Four, the place that I—“ You tap your fingers to your chest multiple times, “was born and raised in. My people think that I’m some monstrous traitor. They didn’t feel safe with me there. This whole time they’ve been sleeping beside a killer.” you spit.

“That’s enough.” Finnick says.

You point at him, eyes sharp. “You don’t get to decide when it’s enough. You’ve had plenty of chances—plenty of time—to come clean, and you know what you said? You told me, ‘It was the right move to make’. You make me fucking sick.”

Finnick raises his hands defensively. “You could’ve said something, yourself.” 

“If I wasn’t so afraid that you were going to turn on me, too, I would’ve.” You snap. When you turn back to face Paylor, you tilt your head. “You sent me to District Two, where all your castaways go. There, I learned that my childhood home was burnt to the fucking foundation because they believed him.

“Would you consider that ‘no harm done’?” You ask her. “I didn’t get any of my belongings after the war, because you told me that my valuables weren’t urgent or important and that you’d ’get around to it’. I don’t have any pictures of my dead family, Paylor!”

The room is silenced again as you breathe heavily, trying to blink the rising tears from your eyes. You will not cry over this. You will not cry in front of any of them. They can’t see how desperate you are.

“I have the right to a trial.” You tell her, once the lump has left your throat. “And I want one. I want Finnick to be put on trial. His guidance murdered several members of the Star Squad.” You look at Finnick. “Messalla, Jackson, Castor, Homes and Leeg were lost in the sewers because of him.”

Haymitch, who’s standing in the very back corner, looking worse for wear, lets out a loud sigh. “She’s right. Finnick needs to be held accountable.”

“Thank you, Haymitch.” You relax.

Paylor looks down at the ground, closes her eyes and says, “Finnick Odair is now in the custody of the Capitol for his interference with Project: Mockingjay.”

“Paylor.” Finnick tries to reason, but her guards move forward immediately, cuffs in hand.

“I told you that you’d regret this.” You say to Finnick, his face twists. “Your actions have consequences, and it’s time you learn that.”

[thisismeracing]

MICK SCHUMACHER MASTERLIST

✦ MICK SCHUMACHER ▶ MS47

All my Mick posts here

▸ main masterlist | patreon guide ▸ taglist ▸ who I write for & guidelines ▸ subscribe to Patreon for exclusive content ▸ tip me on ko-fi

KEYS: s: smut f: fluff a: angst ✷: Patreon exclusive

― ✦ SERIES

king of my heart: Mick Schumacher rode a lousy wave for quite some time, so when the sky gets cleaner and the sun brighter he just knows something terrible may be in store for him. Whereas y/n was just so magnetic, and the possibilities of life with her seemed better than anything his mind could ever create, that’s why, for the first time in forever, he threw caution carelessly through the window, hoping to get to the finish line before it catches up on him.

― ✦ SOCIAL MEDIA AU

I don't wanna be your ex (f): Y/n and Mick used to be the golden couple in the paddock, that’s why the internet went wild when they announced their breakup. Imagine how they reacted when Y/n dropped a song about not wanting to be his ex. Would the couple have any hope of getting back together?

sunshine (f): In which Mick starts dating an earthy/spiritual girl who just loves nature and good energy.

it was always you (f): Mick and Yn decided to stay friends after breaking off their two years relationship, but it seems like things weren’t that broken. Maybe having the same friend circle and seeing each other all the time meant that things were never really over.

angels like you (a): They say misery loves company, maybe that’s why Yn accidentally made Mick miserable too.

super shy (f): The one where your boyfriend is your biggest fan to the point of turning his account into a fan account or something of the sort. Or, Mick and Yn’s relationship through the years

go shawty (f): Every year Yn gets Mick a unique birthday cake. This year she’s ready to surprise the internet and her boyfriend again.

― ✦ BLURBS

I regret meeting you (a)

Say it again (f)

Friends don't (f)

I think I'm in love (f)

Speak now (a)

Light's on (f)

Suck it (s)

All mine (s)

Morning light (f)

Schatzi (f)

Beautiful things (f)

― ✦ REGULAR IMAGINES

our baby Angie (f): What happens when Mick refers to you as Angie's mom?

rosy cheeks, salty hair, warm bodies (s): After finally matching their schedules and booking a trip together, Yn and Mick decide to go to Mallorca for a well-deserved break. The fact that they went weeks without seeing one another and the tension around the hot weather and beach garments only helped build the momentum in which her boyfriend would absolutely ruin her in bed.

cherry (s): Mick has an idea while lying in bed during a lazy weekend, and Yn is more than ready to oblige.

suit testing (s): Yn decides to tease Mick until he gives up and takes her against the bathroom door while still wearing his racing suit.

an avid learner (s): Mick has been nothing but an attentive lover since they started dating, what Yn didn’t know was that he would be even more attentive in bed. It’s their first time having sex, and Mick is an eager learner, he’s set to make sure Yn forgets she ever dated someone before him.

banana pancakes (f): Mick is used to racing cars and living at high speed, but lazy rainy mornings with you are his favorite. Cuddling in bed, making banana pancakes, and listening to the rain fall down while swinging together on the front porch, no travel or circuit beats these moments.

love sips (s): Some bad moments leave the feeling that your whole day was destroyed. Sometimes, all you need to navigate life’s ups and downs is someone to remember you that bad events don’t equal a bad day, Yn decides on a very peculiar approach to remind herself that, and Mick, her boyfriend, is happy to help. 

god is a woman (s): Making out in bed never felt this deep and heart-stopping, but dating Mick and having him love you is a full experience of being a goddess. Your hips were his altar, and he would swear to everyone that God is a woman because you’re it to him.

call me obsessed (s): Everyone talks about how good it is to date someone who’s exactly like you, but Mick has been finding it hard to believe, especially when his girlfriend has the same sunshine energy as him. The problem? Too many friendly flirts around her. And though he’s not a jealous guy, he finds himself ready to praise her and prove to her that he’s the only one. You can say he’s obsessed.

twisted love (a): The rule is clear for all celestial beings: to love the Almighty beyond everything. They can’t share the feeling. It is perpetually prohibited for angels to get fond of humans, especially the protector angels. They are the ones who will follow their human on earth and protect each one. Those Angels and the humans are the same pairing throughout time. Mick watched Yn die and come to life in different forms each period, and he fell - in love, and from Heaven. Years after searching for Yn, he found her again and he’s ready to get what’s his.

I'll always take care of you (f): The flu caught you out of the blue and completely unprepared, good thing you have your boyfriend around to take care of you.

to build a home (f)✷: Mick and Yn are used to sharing everything, and always spending time with each other. However, they didn’t notice that things got easier because they ended up pilling some things in one house. His place is theirs now, but the same happened with her place. It only takes their respective siblings one look to figure out the whole situation. Will it scare them, or will they finally move in together?

die from a broken heart (a/f): After a fight with Mick, your secret boyfriend, you find yourself crying in your father’s arms, and it won’t take much for Toto to connect the dots. The thing is: what is going to happen when he finally does?

screw him (s)✷: When you move to a different neighborhood and discover your hot neighbor is a mechanic, half of your problems evolving your old car are solved. Your issues with your current boyfriend aren’t though. You too need a fix, and Mick may be the perfect guy for it.

― ✦ CONCEPTS

college!mick (masterlist)

― ✦ HEADCANONS

♡ how mick is as a boyfriend ● part 02 ♡ aftercare with mick ♡ how mick is as a husband ♡ mick as a dad ♡ baby making season ♡ size kink ♡ breeding kink ♡ mick dating a black girl ♡ fighting with mick ♡ choking kink ♡ NSFW alphabet ♡ mick dating a girl with anxiety ♡ mick dating a K-pop idol ♡ mick dating raikkönen!reader 𓂃☁︎ ✈︎𓂃 Around the world

♡ mick dating a desi girl ♡ mick dating a korean girl ♡ mick dating a latina ♡ mick dating a greek girl ♡ mick dating a lao girl

©thisismeracing do not copy, steal, or translate my work. do not repost on a different media platform.

[hunn1e-bunn1e]

With a Mammon & Lucifer-like Male reader

🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.

I had a hard time putting Lucifer into the personality so I just decided to make it so they were very responsible and hardworking. Other than that I stuck as close to the original ask as possible. —Benny🐰

                                                                                                   

                                                                                                   

🌬•♡•🌬•♡•🌬•♡•🌬•♡•🌬•♡•🌬•♡•🌬•♡•🌬

🍷 He loves you so much! You're just so cheerful and precious, it's making his heart clench. Your so kind and selfless that sometimes he wonders if you're even a human.

🍷 While Venti definitely appreciates it, that undying loyalty of yours is kind of throwing off his freedom vibe. Don't you want to relax once in a while? He doesn't need someone to follow his every whim, y'know.

🍷 He's seen your swordsmanship so many times but it never ceases to take his breath away. Watching you mow down hilichurls and slimes inspired him enough to write a balled that he lovingly entitled 'Oh Sword Dancer'.

🍷 You want to protect him? Why? Venti's an archon, you shouldn't have to feel the need to keep him safe, it should be the other way around. Just relax and share a bottle or four of Dandelion Wine with him.

🍷 He noticed right off the bat how you react to even the smallest crumb of his affection. And he absolutely torments you with it judging by how aggressive he is with his affections.

🍷 Venti is thankful that he can trust you with important information, such as him being an archon, and can count on you not telling anyone. He also believes your sense of responsibility is inspiring; he even wrote a song about it.

🌬•♡•🌬•♡•🌬•♡•🌬•♡•🌬•♡•🌬•♡•🌬•♡•🌬

🔥•♡•🔥•♡•🔥•♡•🔥•♡•🔥•♡•🔥•♡•🔥•♡•🔥

🍇 He's just a magnet for extroverts it seems. He definitely sees you as bothersome but he can't deny how much he loves your smile and happy demeanor. You're like the ray of sunshine parting the dense clouds on his rainy day.

🍇 Diluc definitely didn't expect the unyielding devotion you've shown to him. It makes him sort of uncomfortable in a way since he's not used to that kind of genuine care from someone else. But he learns to enjoy it after a while.

🍇 He witnessed your swordplay after you accidentally caught him doing his nightly protection of Mondstadt. To him you were graceful as the wind; dancing with your opponent in fight of life or death. His cheeks were definitely pink after seeing such a thing.

🍇 It felt nice being the protected instead of the protector; like a breath of fresh air. While Diluc felt that he definitely didn't need it, he didn't tell you that and let you continue on with your fantasy. He wouldn't want to disappoint you after all.

🍇 He hardly notices how flustered you get when receiving his affections because he's equally if not more flustered. He's more of a small gestures kind of person and it takes quite a lot of courage for him to do something intimate, so most of the time he's too busy overthinking to notice your reaction.

🍇 Diluc appreciates that you can act appropriately in serious situations unlike a certain cavalry captain. He trusts you wholeheartedly and even divulged information about his past to you.

🔥•♡•🔥•♡•🔥•♡•🔥•♡•🔥•♡•🔥•♡•🔥•♡•🔥

☄•♡•☄•♡•☄•♡•☄•♡•☄•♡•☄•♡•☄•♡•☄

🍵 You sort of remind him of Guizhong.... You're such a sweet person who's always willing to help people no matter what. You always seem to see the good in people too.

🍵 Zhongli isn't exactly shocked when you showed how devoted you are to him. He's used to it; he's a god after all. But soon enough, he realizes you've devoted yourself to him as a lover, and that makes him feel whole in a way.

🍵 When he witnesses your swordplay, he reminisces to you about the time of the Archon War and when the traveler came to liyue in search of their lost sibling. He offers to share some tactical knowledge hes accumulated from the many years of experience he has.

🍵 To say Zhongli was shocked of your protective nature would be an understatement. I mean even if he's retired, he's still an archon. But after a while he realizes that that's just another way of showing that you love him.

🍵 He finds your near inability to withstand his affections to be very entertaining. He'll often try to catch you off guard with a kiss or an intricately worded compliment and watch you absolutely lose your mind with flusteredness.

🍵 You're rare mature moments never cease to catch Zhongli off guard. He never expected such a fun loving person such as yourself to be so serious when he asks a favor of you, no matter how small.

☄•♡•☄•♡•☄•♡•☄•♡•☄•♡•☄•♡•☄•♡•☄

🌿•♡•🌿•♡•🌿•♡•🌿•♡•🌿•♡•🌿•♡•🌿•♡•🌿

🐍 He enjoys how silly you can be, it allows him to relax and enjoy the moments you have together without thinking about his ever declining health. Your bright personality is a nice contrast to Qiqi's lack of one.

🐍 Baizhu is very happy when he learns of your devotion to him and insistence to help him around the pharmacy and with personal tasks. It lets him sit down and rest more often during the day, which he greatly appreciates.

🐍 While he himself is a catalyst user, Qiqi uses a sword. After seeing just how skilled you are with your weapon he brought up the option of you teaching the zombie child a thing or two.

🐍 It took Baizhu a little bit to notice your protective attitude towards him since he doesn't travel about too often. When he did notice, he was glad he didn't have to over exert himself if he needs to protect himself, because he knows you've already got it covered.

🐍 He never noticed how flustered you get because he's in the same boat. He's not used to such intense affection and intimacy; he's usually the one caring for people and occasionally receiving thanks but that's all.

🐍 Baizhu is relieved at how reliable and mature you can be; he's glad he can trust you. He's even taken to sending you with Qiqi when he sends her out to pick up some herbs or has her man the pharmacy when he's out.

🌿•♡•🌿•♡•🌿•♡•🌿•♡•🌿•♡•🌿•♡•🌿•♡•🌿

🌊•♡•🌊•♡•🌊•♡•🌊•♡•🌊•♡•🌊•♡•🌊•♡•🌊

🧋 You remind him of Thoma. Not that its a bad thing though; he thinks its cute. Maybe he'll introduce the two of you one day.

🧋 While he deeply appreciates how devoted and willing you are to be at his beck and call; Ayato already has someone to do all that for him. He'd much rather have you let him take care of you instead. Just let him spoil you, you deserve it.

🧋 Oho? You're a swordsman as well? You'll have to duel him sometime; maybe he could teach you a thing or two; he is a master swordsman after all.

🧋 Ayato noticed how protective you are of him right away and it kind of annoyed him a bit. He doesn't need protection, he can protect himself. He wants to be the protector, he wants to be the provider; just let him take the lead.

🧋 He loves loves loves teasing the everloving crap out of you. You're reactions are just the most adorable thing he's ever seen. It just makes him want to eat you up.

🧋 Ayato does enjoy how reliable and mature you can be at times; for him, that's a very important thing to have in a relationship.

🌊•♡•🌊•♡•🌊•♡•🌊•♡•🌊•♡•🌊•♡•🌊•♡•🌊

🌿•♡•🌿•♡•🌿•♡•🌿•♡•🌿•♡•🌿•♡•🌿•♡•🌿

📚 He probably wouldn't like you at first, to be honest. Considering how he feels about his roommate, Kaveh. Alhaitham's personality being quite antisocial and yours being out going would definitely clash.

📚 Something he definitely loves about you is your undying devotion and helpfulness towards him. He believes that, though your attentiveness can be a bit bothersome for him while he's trying to work, you definitely mean well and he doesn't want you to stop.

📚 Your swordsmanship has deeply impressed him time and time again; not that he'd admit that out loud, of course. Maybe the two of you could spar sometime.

📚 Alhaitham has most definitely noticed how protective you are of him. While he definitely doesn't need it, he's quite flattered that you'd go out of your way to make him feel safe.

📚 He thinks it's absolutely hilarious that you can give him affection like it's nothing but the minute he returns it, even with the smallest gesture, you turn into a flusted mess.

📚 Alhaitham appreciates how responsible you are when you're given important tasks; it let's him know he can trust you with just about anything.

🌿•♡•🌿•♡•🌿•♡•🌿•♡•🌿•♡•🌿•♡•🌿•♡•🌿

🌿•♡•🌿•♡•🌿•♡•🌿•♡•🌿•♡•🌿•♡•🌿•♡•🌿

💼 You two get along like white on rice, both of your personalities are extroverted and somewhat outgoing. The both of you live harmoniously throughout your relationship and rarely fight or even disagree on things.

💼 Kaveh is all about affection! Hugs, kisses, holding hands, gifts, words of affirmation, etc. Anything you give, he will receive and return ten-fold without question.

💼 Though he uses a claymore and prefers it that way, he's very impressed with your swordsmanship. He thinks you look so cool when you're practicing or or fighting some monsters. He has definitely swooned at you once or twice when you're not paying him any mind.

💼 Kaveh loves how protective of him you are, it makes him feel so safe! He returns the favor of course. Sometimes, he jokes about sicking you on his roommate when he's being mean.

💼 He enjoys how flustered you become when he gives you affection; it makes him want to tease you. Your shy nature is just too cute and he has to exploit it as much as possible.

💼 He likes how responsible and trustworthy you are, even if you remind him of his roommate sometimes with how serious you can be, but he wouldn't trade it for the world. You just mean too much to Kaveh for him to do such a thing.

🌿•♡•🌿•♡•🌿•♡•🌿•♡•🌿•♡•🌿•♡•🌿•♡•🌿

🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.

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[forgedraptor]

Law has seen how Luffy looks at everyone, with a sunny grin and a boisterous laugh, with happiness and fondness, but never love. never affection of a heart in irregular beat, of sweaty palms, flying insects buzzing your stomach, blood rushing in different areas of your body, of dilation of pupils and more

its never the type of love that leaves the other person breathless, of an electric charge when one or the other gazes at each other for too long, of soft caresses, and soft kisses, of loud beating hearts and loud moans, of sweat or passion or wet smacks of lips leaving and meeting. nothing of that, nothing of what Law craves, nothing of how Law loves.

And the thing is, Law has seen Luffy in a lot of different ways but in his silent observation, he has not seen Luffy fall in love. Yes Luffy can feel love but its a very different type from Laws, something all encompassing, something light, something shared.

Its tender hugs and laughter, of eating together and sharing of stories, its a stable, reliable, comfortable companionship with others that brings contentment and security in ones soul, like a home you come back to after a long day, or a cozy room with blankets around you as the rainy day outside passes by, its something familiar, maybe even familial and something beautiful and special and lovely; but it is not romantic love. its not Laws love for Luffy.

But Law doesnt mind that at all, in all honesty hes always believed that Luffy is fine the way he is, even before he had fallen 60ft under and inlove with the strawhat wearing boy.

Luffy should never be afraid, should never doubt himself and his love for other people. It is as strong as amazing as any type of love that exist, it is something Luffy should never be ashamed of. For it is simply love, just a different type of love. and Love has so many aspects and variations. and every single one of them is beautiful.

the only difference is that Luffy has always loved platonically, and Law, like most of others that fall into the gravitational pull that is Monkey D. Luffy, is in the opposite side of that spectrum. He loves Luffy.

He wants to hold Luffy, he wants to keep him close, he wants to hold his hand, to keep them intertwined, he wants to keep seeing Luffys smile directed at him, he wants to be the cause of that smile. And Law knows that all of these he can have if he simply asks, but the thing is that it doesnt end there.

Because Law wants to be greedy. Sometimes, when hes lost in his own thoughts, he wants Luffy only for himself. wanting to keep him away from everyone else, to keep this little bottle of sunshine only for himself. he wants Luffy to only look at him, to only smile a certain way, just for him, he wants to feel special. he wants to be Luffys everything just as Luffy is his.

and how terrifying is that thought? wanting to keep the sun for yourself, wanting to lock them away so only you could see them.

its frightening, its disgusting, its something Luffy doesnt deserve.

because Luffy is the sun, and Law is simply the moon, hes just a part of the gigantic solar system that surrounds and gravitates around that life giving star. Law is that of a distant rocky satellite, so far away also stealing and basking in the suns rays, not even close to the fiery powerhouse that is Monkey D. Luffy. and Law, like the moon, just wants to exist next to the sun.

he doesn't need to be seen or known, he doesnt need to be given special attention, hes just a lowly planetoid and just getting close to that glorious ball of sunshine would destroy him, so hes content where he is, admiring his bright little firelight from afar, sometimes trying to reflect its rays but most times, just enjoying the feeling of being the suns companion and friend, even as he vehemently denies it. For there is beauty on how Luffy shows his affection to others, and Law loves to soak it all up when he can.

thinking more about it, Law wonders if the flowers only started to grow because he started to want more than what he knows he deserves

is it because of how he yearned for Luffy? how he has wired his brain to keep his emotions underwraps but his body keeps doing the opposite? how his hands brush over Luffy whenever he could, how his touch would linger, how his eyes would linger and how he would sometimes loose himself in the thought, the feeling, the delusions, of what it could be like to be romantically involved with Luffy

maybe the clash between his mind and his heart is what caused these sprouts to grow in the first place.

in a way, the flower that the world decided to slowly kill him is a mockery of his thoughts and his feelings for Luffy. a sun flower. a fucking sunflower is growing out of his lungs and slowly suffocating him.

how fitting that its the one type of plant that cant seem to look away from the sun.

just like him.

the world truly does have a morbid sense of humour for Law doesnt it?

[angelyuji]

HEHEHHWHEE imagine the bau team hunting down a serial killer not knowing its their OWN PARTNERRRR imma use hotch as an example cuz dilf😫😫😩😩😩

no real warnings tbh just that reader is a serial killer

i think that he would literally never ever guess it was you. this unsub has been taunting the team, they'd get close and then, the MOMENT they think they're getting close... you're gone (kinda). cuz technically you're still around yk. you're going on dates with aaron, taking care of jack during emergencies, etc. but your serial killer hobbies are in hiatus.

aaron would talk about it with you too. he knows he's not supposed to tell you about the case, but sometimes he gets so frustrated with the case and you lend him an ear yk.

you hide it well, but every time he talks to you about the case. you feel giddy knowing how well you've stumped the great bau.

aaron would never suspect you. you're a great partner, a great parent, he loves you. i mean, every night he holds you talking about how much he loves you. you're the sunshine on his rainy day. all of this distracts you, keeps you on haitus for a long time maybe even permenantly. he tells you that he's planning on quitting the bau. that lets you relax, truly putting your hobbies to rest.

"i think i'm going to take the offer..." aaron says, leaning against the counter, watching you cook dinner.

"hmm? which offer?" you look over at him, in his tight shirt and baggy pants.

"to resign." he laughs and pushing his hair back with one hand. "i want to be here... with you and jack. i want to focus on being a father... and a husband." he looks away and you smile at his bashfulness.

"i'm happy with whatever decision you chose to make, aaron. you're stuck with me."

then he proposes, you're elated. every thing is perfect. you have an amazing fiance, an amazing (almost) step-son. the entire bau is there when he proposes. every single thing is perfect... except that aaron isn't quitting. he's staying at the bau with them. he's staying with them. even after he promised you that he'd quit.

"you told me... you told me that you'd quit." you pace around the living room.

"i know. i'm sorry, but the team needs me." aaron looks at you, eyes filled with guilt.

"we need you, aaron! me and jack! we need you." you feel tears roll down your cheeks.

"(y/n)..." he tries to reach out to you and you back away. he stops, hurt.

"i need some air." you leave, kissing jack good-bye.

you were gone for a week, and in that week, two people had died.

"something on your mind, aaron?" rossi put a hand on his shoulder. aaron sat in his office, staring at the picture of the three of you on a picnic.

"i'm not sure... since (y/n)'s been gone, two people have died and... i noticed this last time too." aaron puts his head in his hands.

"what do you mean?" rossi sits down.

"i-i'm not sure. last time too, we had a fight and they left and- and people died." the dots start to connect, but rossi shakes his head.

"aaron, you don't really think-"

"no. no, i'm sure i'm just imagining it."

"i think you should listen to strauss. the stress from scratch, the new unsub, everything..." rossi trails off.

"i know... i know, i'll think about it."

of course, aaron calls your parents and they say you've been with them the entire time. so he lets it go, but it stays on his mind even when you were back. you'd be sleeping in the same bed and he'd look at you and wonder... could you be a killer? but you'd pull him into a kiss and he'd fall for your warmth once more. you knew he had his suspicions, rossi told you himself. he said he was "worried" that you should "convince him to resign. it'll be good for the both of you". and you did just that. you moved up the wedding, you sent out the invitations, you did everything to distract him from his suspicions and work.

when you walk down the aisle, you see all his suspicions melt as tears fall from his eyes. you feel a grin creep up your face, you did it. you had him for yourself.

"i, aaron hotchner, take (y/n) to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part"

[knowmypower]

In your AU, how did Meta Knight fall in love with Peach and vice versa? Who asked who out first? 👀✨

THAT IS A GOOD QUESTION THANK U FOR ASKING. it was initially peach's incentive to get to know him. basically, she wanted to properly thank him for saving her and zelda during the great subspace invasion, but this was the brawl era so meta knight was still quite mysterious and socially distant to most fighters. thankfully, peach had an advantage in the form of kirby. kirby had also saved peach during subspace, and it was during that time she learned that meta knight was kirby's adoptive dad. so between his show of heroism and the fact that he could be the father of such a sweet little boy, she knew he couldn't be as scary as most fighters were making him out to be. in fact, it only took one conversation with him by the coffee machine one fateful morning to be charmed by his courtliness. definitely not as intimidating as he acts like on the battlefield! meta knight appreciated her benevolence as well.

it wasn't until the wiiu era that they started catching feelings though. the more time peach spent with meta knight and the more she learned about him, the more she realized how…well, normal, and kinda cute he actually was behind all the grandiose. and she loved that, she loved that he was getting more comfortable letting his guard down around her and his quirks show. it felt like a whole new world opened up when she discovered he had a sweet tooth, because she just so happens to love baking lol. for meta knight, being around peach was like a breath of fresh air. sunshine on a rainy day. it's cliche, but she just made him happy in a way that he's never quite felt before. he loved hearing about her kingdom and he admired how she treated her subjects. he loved how graceful but strong she was. but they were very much in a "what are we?", "will they won't they" type of relationship (much to the frustration of kirby who has been excited by the prospect of peach joining their family since day 1 and may have already told all his friends) until the ultimate era, because sometimes i think the pining phase is the best part of shipping lol. BUT YEAH meta knight did finally ask peach out in ultimate (even though he somehow convinced himself he wasn't asking her on a DATE date despite whipping out his best bowtie for a casual cafe) and they are currently together 🙏

[han-yucil]

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Just Like The Sun

summary: you felt a little down one rainy day, luckily though Park Gunwook is your boyfriend pairing: Gunwook x Male Reader genre: fluff

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You're usually a very bright and cheery person but it seems like today isn't like the usual. At this time of the day you'd usually be out with your friends, having fun and making them smile because of your silly little antics.

It was a rainy saturday and you seem to be weeping with the clouds today as you were curled up in you bed with your blanket making you look like a wrapped up little dumpling. You sigh as you look outside the window only to see the raindrops racing down its glass panes.

You were about to bury your face on the plethora of pillows on your bed when you heard a knock on the door. "Y/n, can I come in My Sol?" You heard from outside the door.

You didn't respond because you knew your lovely boyfriend, Gunwook, would make himself welcome inside your room either way. If you were the bright sun then he would be the moon. He shines cooly while you shine brightly. He's the perfect boyfriend you could've asked for, and he thinks the same way about you too.

He sat on your bed before he fixed the strands of hair that were covering your face.

"What's the matter My Sol?" He asked in the sweetest and most softest voice possible making your heart melt.

You didn't respond again but instead raised both of your hands signaling for him to lay down and cuddlee with you.

Both sides of his lips rose before laying down and making you use his biceps as a pillow and caging you into a big yet soft bear hug. He knows you love it, that's why whenever you cuddle he'd always make you use it as a pillow. You'd even bite it sometimes.

You snuggle in his chest and let the silence envelop you two.

In all honestly you didn't really know why you were like this in the first place. You just woke up feeling a little bit sad and you don't really know the reason.

You looked up to see what he was doing only to find out that he was looking at you. You feel your cheeks get a little warm as you snuggle your face on his chest once more making him giggle a little. You felt him kiss the top of your head before starting to caress it slowly and softly.

For such a big guy like your boyfriend, he's really soft and gentle with you. I mean you're tall too with a height of 5'8 but he is 6'0ft tall with a big muscular body unlike yours who relies on your fast metabolism to just to not get a bit chubby(he wouldn't mind if you're a little more plump though, infact he'd love it!)

"I love you My Sol" He says before kissing the top of your head once more. You snuggle with him a little tighter earning a little giggle out of him making you smile underneath his broad chest.

And as if you and the weather were one, the rain stopped and the rays of sunshine began to appear just like the smile that's been growing on your face.