#Advanced Console Manager

[reilemon]

Sweet Stardust

⚠ MINORS DNI (18+ ONLY) ⚠

♡︎ synopsis: You'd never expect to be set up on a blind date with Xavier - the one man you’ve been hopelessly crushing on for months.

♡︎ pairing: Xavier x fem!reader

♡︎ tags: fluff, smut, use of 'sweetheart' 'princess' 'honey', reader has hair (at least shoulder length, didn't specify texture), fingering, creampie ofc

♡︎ word count: 6.1k

♡︎ a/n: written for @who-mentioned-rhys-larsen ♡ this fic is part of the Blind Date Matchmaking event by @unintentionalseductress

♡︎ Thank you to my dearest friend and my beta reader ♡︎@its-de♡︎ for helping.

divider by @/anitalenia

You take a slow sip of your iced tea, the coolness doing nothing to soothe the warmth creeping up your neck.

Why did you think this was a good idea?

Your fingers find the edge of your star-shaped earring, tracing the smooth metal absentmindedly as you glance around. The restaurant is elegant but cozy, the kind of place that requires a reservation but doesn’t suffocate you with formality. Secluded tables nestle in private corners, the polished dark wood of the bar offering a sense of quiet luxury. It’s nice— a perfect spot for a first date.

The thought only makes your stomach twist tighter.

You arrived earlier than planned, too anxious to sit alone in your apartment with nothing but your thoughts. Now, perched on a barstool, you’re starting to question every decision that led you to this moment.

The worst part? You don’t even know what your date looks like.

Tara assured you she’d pick someone good. And you trust her—she’s not just a colleague but a close friend, someone who knows you well enough to understand your type, your standards, your... predicament. That is, your utterly hopeless crush on Xavier.

Your gaze drops to your lap at the thought of him, an old ache stirring in your chest. You’ve spent months pining for him—your colleague, your neighbor, the man who has occupied far too much space in your head. But nothing has ever come of it. No flirty advances, no subtle signs that he might see you as anything more than a friend and coworker. And you’ve grown tired of waiting.

So, you let Tara set you up. Maybe this mystery man will be exactly what you need—a good distraction, someone to help you move on. If that’s even possible.

Still, one small consolation eases your nerves - you know you look good. The sweater dress you chose hugs your curves just right, soft and warm, the cleavage dipping just low enough to be tempting. Your heeled boots elevate your outfit, and, miraculously, your hair cooperated today, falling just the way you like it.

Tara instructed you to wear a recognition piece—something star-shaped, she had said. You thought it was too subtle, but you were relieved you had control over your outfit. Now, though, as you anxiously toy with your earring, you wonder if your date will even notice it.

What if he saw you already and decided to leave?

Your grip tightens slightly around your drink, your pulse stuttering at the humiliating thought. Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe—

A small speck of light floats in front of you, pulling you from your anxious thoughts. You can’t help but associate them with him, as they always appear -

“Hey.”

The soft, familiar voice shifts your attention.

You turn, blinking in surprise, and your heart nearly stumbles out of your chest.

Xavier is sitting next to you.

When did he even get here?

He’s propped against the bar, one elbow resting on the polished wood, his cheek lightly pressed against his hand. The dim glow of the restaurant catches in his deep blue eyes, glinting with something unreadable as he watches you.

Your breath falters for just a second, heat creeping up your neck. “Hi.” you manage, offering a sheepish smile, your fingers still toying with your earring.

His gaze flickers down, catching on the star-shaped piece before shifting back to your face. “Are you waiting for someone?”

You straighten instinctively, forcing yourself to stop fidgeting. “I am,” you say, glancing toward the entrance. “But I’m not sure what he looks like.”

His brows lift slightly. “A blind date?”

You let out a small, nervous chuckle. “Yeah.”

You glance at your phone. You exhale sharply, shifting in your seat. “But I’m starting to think he won’t show up.”

Xavier hums, the sound low and thoughtful. “Maybe he’s just running late.”

You look back at him then, finally taking in the details of his outfit—he’s wearing a crisp white shirt, paired with light-colored slacks that somehow make him look even taller, more put-together, but still effortlessly him.

Your stomach twists with an uneasy realization —what if he’s waiting for someone? Swallowing past the sudden lump in your throat, you force yourself to ask, keeping your voice as casual as possible. “Are you waiting for someone?”

His eyes linger on yours for a second too long. Then, he shakes his head. “Not really.”

You barely have time to process that answer before he turns his attention toward the softly lit dining area. Without hesitation, he rises from his seat, and then—he extends his hand toward you.

“Our table is ready.” he murmurs, his voice smooth, a soft smile curving at the edges of his lips.

Your breath catches.

Oh -

He’s your date.

⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆

After settling into a table tucked in a cozy corner, bathed in the soft glow of candlelight, you and Xavier placed your orders—drinks and appetizers to start. But your mind was spinning too fast, so you excused yourself to the restroom, needing a moment to breathe.

Inside, you grip the edge of the sink, inhaling slowly as you pull out your phone.

"Tara, did you bribe Xavier into being my date?" Your heart hammers in your chest as you type the next part. "Please tell me you didn't tell him I have a crush on him!"

Within seconds, a text pops up:

"Of course not!"

You wait, staring at the screen. Then a voice note appears.

You tap play, Tara’s familiar voice filling the quiet space of the restroom.

"He immediately refused when I asked him if he wanted to be set up on a blind date." You can hear her dramatic pout, but then it shifts—lighter, giddy. "But when I told him you’d be his date, he accepted. Anyway, have fun!"

You blink.

Your reflection in the mirror catches the exact moment your anxious frown softens into something else entirely—a shy, almost disbelieving smile creeping across your lips.

He accepted because it was you.

A warm, tingling sensation spreads down to your fingertips. You clutch your phone, staring at yourself, trying to tamp down the hopeful little spark.

Does this mean he likes me?

You bite your lip, willing yourself to stay grounded, to not jump to conclusions. It just means he didn’t hate the idea. That’s all. Don’t get ahead of yourself.

Still, as you slip your phone back into your purse and wash your hands, your movements feel lighter, less burdened by nerves. By the time you push open the bathroom door and step back into the dinning area, that giddy warmth is still lingering in your chest.

⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆

You step into your apartment, and turn to lock the door after Xavier enters. It feels surreal. Xavier is standing in your entryway. In your apartment. Slipping off his shoes, asking where the guest slippers are. He shrugs off his coat, and before you can even think to reach for it, he’s holding out his hands—first to take the bouquet of flowers he bought for you on the walk back, then to grab your coat.

The bouquet is filled with your favorites. Did he ask Tara? Did he just… know?

You clear your throat, mumbling a quiet thanks, and step into the kitchen to grab a vase. The sound of running water fills the space as your mind is stuck on the simple, surreal fact that he’s here. Xavier is standing in your kitchen, looking around with quiet interest, his gaze flickering over little details—your recipe books stacked on one counter, the aprons hanging next to the fridge, the faint scent of vanilla lingering in the air.

“Cozy.” he comments, his voice warm.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱

You cover your lips as a chuckle escapes you, shaking your head. “I’m sorry,” you say, glancing at Xavier with an apologetic smile, “I just always assumed you were bad at cooking since there’s burning smoke coming from your apartment almost every week.”

Xavier exhales a quiet laugh. “It’s not that I’m bad,” he muses, “I just have a bad habit of dozing off while waiting for something to cook.”

The low rasp in his voice makes your stomach flutter. You’re suddenly very aware of how close he is, how his knee has brushed against yours too many times to be an accident.

You clear your throat, scrambling for something to keep the conversation flowing. “I have dough at the apartment.” The words slip out. “I’m not sure what to make with it yet. Do you have any ideas?”

Xavier leans in slightly, resting his chin on his hand as he contemplates, but his eyes never leave yours.

“I bought strawberry jam today,” he murmurs. “It would be perfect with homemade bread.” His gaze flickers to your lips for the briefest second before it settles again on yours. “I could help you with it—if that’s okay with you?”

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱

Your cheeks burn at the memory.

Just a few hours ago, you thought Xavier wasn’t interested in you at all. That your feelings were nothing more than a hopeless crush. But now—he’s here. He’s helping you find the perfect spot to set the vase, standing close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating from him.

And you know - he does like you.

You saw it in the way he looked at you at the restaurant, in the way his usually distant, unreadable gaze softened, locked onto you. It wasn’t the casual attention he gave to others, the absentminded focus of a man who was simply being polite. No—this was different. His eyes had lingered, had traced the curve of your lips between words, flickering down for just a second too long before finding yours again.

And you felt it, too. In the way his knee brushed against yours beneath the table. In the way his fingers found yours by the end of the night,the touch tender and grounding.

And now, here you are—just the two of you in your cozy kitchen, setting everything up to prepare homemade bread.

You move around the space, trying to keep your hands busy, trying not to focus too much on the man leaning against the counter. You reach for the aprons hanging by the hook, and a playful smile tugs at your lips as you hand Xavier the one with the bunny print. He raises an eyebrow at the design before letting out a low chuckle, shaking his head in amusement but accepting it anyway.

"You picked this on purpose, didn’t you?"

"You’ll look cute in it," you tease, already tying your own cherry-print apron around your waist.

But before you can secure the knot, his fingers brush over yours. "Let me."

His breath against the shell of your ear makes goosebumps bloom along the side of your neck. He steps in behind you, his fingers tying the knot — but he doesn’t move away immediately. For a lingering moment, his hands rest on your hips, fingers splayed lightly over the fabric of your dress, and your breath catches. It’s so subtle, so fleeting, but the touch lingers even as he steps back and moves to stand beside you.

You exhale slowly, turning your attention back to the dough in the bowl.

Xavier rolls up his sleeves, the fabric sliding up his forearms, revealing the sculpted muscle, the veins subtly lining his skin. His hands flex as he reaches for the dough, fingers sinking into the soft mixture.

"I can handle the kneading," he offers, his eyes flicking to you. "Just instruct me."

You nod, too distracted to say anything.

Xavier’s hands press into the dough with steady, practiced motions, fingers flexing as he pushes forward, the soft mixture stretching and folding beneath his palms. You watch, transfixed, as the muscles in his forearms shift with each movement, flexing beneath his skin. The dough yields to his touch, stretching between his fingers before he folds it over itself again, his knuckles pressing in, wrists rolling as he coaxes the mixture into the perfect consistency. It shouldn’t be mesmerizing. It shouldn’t be distracting. But it is.

You swallow, completely absorbed in the way his hands work—the slow push, the press, the stretch, the way his fingers curl just slightly as he pulls the dough back. Heat pools in your stomach, and you have to remind yourself to breathe.

And then he stops.

Your gaze snaps up from his hands to find his face already turned toward you, amusement flickering in his deep blue eyes.

"Can you sprinkle more flour? Or are you just gonna keep staring?"

Your stomach flips.

Oops.

Heat spreads over your cheeks as you realize he caught you shamelessly ogling his arms like they were the most fascinating thing in the world. You scramble to gather yourself, clearing your throat as you quickly grab the flour.

"I was just making sure you were doing it right." you lie, voice slightly higher than normal as you sprinkle a light dusting over the dough.

Xavier hums, clearly unconvinced, a smirk playing at the edges of his lips as he kneads again, the fresh coating of flour making his hands glide easier. But just as you think you’ve escaped the moment, he shifts—his hands no longer sticky with dough, moving faster than you can react.

A soft swipe of flour brushes against your cheek.

You blink, stunned. Xavier pulls his hand back, his smirk widening, too pleased with himself.

"Focus." he teases, the mirth in his eyes makes your stomach flip all over again.

Your jaw drops in feigned offense, so you grab a pinch of flour, and tap the tip of his nose. The faint layer of white settles on the tip of his nose, an almost comical touch against his usually composed expression. His gaze locks onto yours, surprise flickering in his eyes, and then—

A low chuckle spills into a soft, genuine laugh. Your heart stumbles over itself at the sight of him like this— warm and sweet, no longer distant. The sound of it makes you grin wider, but you don’t miss the way his eyes gleam with mischief. The playful glint is all the warning you get before his hand moves as he smears another streak of flour along your cheek.

“You should really focus.” he teases, voice rich with amusement, tilting his head as if inspecting his work.

You gasp, feigning an appalled expression. “Oh, you’re gonna regret that.”

But you don’t get a chance to launch another attack, because he moves swiftly, catching your wrist in his hand. The contact sends a small jolt through you; it’s soft but firm enough that you can feel the heat of his palm against your skin, holding you in place. You expect him to smirk, to tease. But instead, his expression softens, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes as he lifts your hand. And then—he presses a kiss to your knuckles. His lips linger for only a second, the warmth of them seeping into your skin, before he pulls away.

Your pulse is fluttering, your cheeks heating, and silence settles between you, stretching for just a beat too long.

You clear your throat, glancing toward the dough still resting on the counter, and force your voice to sound as steady as possible.

“So, what do you like to cook the most?”

Xavier hums in thought. “I like trying new things,” he muses, rolling his shoulders slightly, easing some of the tension in his muscles. “It doesn’t always turn out great, but I like the challenge.”

You tilt your head, intrigued, and then smirk. “So, you like torturing yourself with hard recipes?”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Something like that.” His voice is a little quieter as he continues. “You make it look easy. Thought I’d try my hand at a few things.”

You pause for a moment, wondering if you heard him correctly. “Wait - have you been trying to remake my recipes?”

His fingers falter for just a second before he smooths his expression into something neutral. “Maybe.”

A slow grin spreads across your face. “Xavier.”

He exhales, shaking his head like you’ve caught him in something ridiculous, but the corners of his lips twitch. “You make good food,” he mutters. “I wanted to see if I could make it too.”

You fight the urge to squish his cheeks that have flushed a tiny bit at the revelation. He actually remembers the things you’ve brought him, the little baked goods and dishes you’d made. And not only does he remember—he tries to recreate them.

His gaze flickers to you. “Maybe you should teach me.”

It’s a casual request, but you hear what he isn’t saying. He wants to see you more, and it sends another rush of giddy warmth through you.

“Okay,” you say, pretending like your heart isn’t doing flips. “What do you want to learn?”

He doesn’t hesitate. “Egg tarts.”

The answer is so unexpected that you blink, then laugh. “Really? Out of everything?”

He nods. “They’re delicious.”

Finally, the bread dough is prepped, shaped, and ready for the oven. You slide the tray inside, and after cleaning up the counter and your hands, you remove the aprons and put them back on the hook.

As you turn to face Xavier again, you catch him watching you, his arms crossed loosely over his chest, leaning against the counter.

You clear your throat, trying to shake off the way his gaze makes your stomach tighten. Then, with a teasing lilt to your voice, you ask, “Should I go get you a blanket? Since you might doze off.”

His brows lift slightly, and then he huffs a short laugh.

But then, his voice drops, smooth as silk. “I think we can find a better way to pass the time.”

A soft laugh spills from your lips at first, but as soon as you catch the look in his eyes, the warmth in your chest falters, the laughter dying on your tongue.

The teasing spark in his eyes is nowhere to be found. Instead, a soft blush dusts his cheekbones, creeping up to the tips of his ears. Then—he moves.

One step, then another, the space between you disappearing, inch by inch. The edge of the counter presses into the small of your back as he approaches, your body instinctively leaning away. His hands rest on either side of you, palms pressing flat against the cool surface of the counter.

His breath is soft, ghosting over your lips. The sheer weight of his attention wraps around you like a second heartbeat, syncing with your own, pulsing through your veins. Your fingers twitch at your sides, aching to reach for something—him, the counter, anything to steady yourself.

The rest of the world fades into nothing, and all that exists is him.

His lashes lower just slightly, his lips parting as he leans in, his gaze holding yours the entire time. He’s waiting, offering you one last chance to pull away, to stop this before the moment tips over into something neither of you can take back.

Then, barely above a whisper - “Tell me to stop.”

You don’t say a word.

Instead, you tilt your chin up, closing what little distance remains between you, and press your lips to his. Xavier exhales softly against your lips, the sound breaking somewhere between relief and disbelief before he finally moves.

His mouth presses more firmly against yours, molding to the shape of you, learning the way you taste, memorizing the way you feel beneath him. His fingers twitch against the counter, like he’s restraining himself from reaching for you, from pulling you against him, from letting his hands wander to the places he’s only ever dreamed of touching. But he lingers, soaking in every moment, every detail, every sigh and shiver you give him. You melt into him, your fingers curling into his shirt, pulling him closer.

Xavier pulls away for a moment, his breath warm against your lips. "Can I touch your hair?"

It’s such a simple question, yet it sends comforting warmth through you, and it makes you fall for him even more. You nod, your heart hammering in your chest as you tilt your head slightly in invitation. You press your lips to his again, needing to feel that warmth, needing to drown in the way he kisses you. The moment his hand settles on your hair, a slow shiver rolls down your spine. His touch is reverent, the slightest tug at the roots sending small tingles all the way down your neck. You sigh into his mouth, the sound soft and almost dazed, relishing in the way he handles you, like he wants to learn the texture of every strand under his fingers.

And then he steps closer, pressing his body fully against yours, erasing the last inch of space between you. His firm muscles shift slightly against you, the warmth of him seeping through his clothes, through yours, until you feel surrounded, consumed. And lower, against your hip, there’s something else—something hard and pressing insistently, showing just how much he wants you.

Your breath catches, your fingers faltering where they rest against his jaw.

Just a small movement—that’s all it takes, the softest drag of your hip against the unmistakable hardness straining against his pants, to draw out a reaction from him.

Xavier’s body tenses, his breath catching in his throat. His fingers twitch against your hair, tightening slightly before loosening, as if he’s reminding himself to be gentle. His jaw clenches, his eyes squeezing shut for the briefest second before they open again, darker now, heavier.

He whispers your name. "If you keep doing that—"

But you don’t move away. Instead, you lift your gaze to his. "Do you want to stop?" you whisper.

The moment hangs between you, before he exhales.

"No," he murmurs, "But if we do this, I need you to be sure."

And you are sure. Your fingers tighten around his wrist, feeling the pulse thrumming just beneath your fingertips. You guide his hand from your hair down to your waist. "I want this." you whisper, your heart pounding so violently you wonder if he can hear it. "I want you."

The tension in his body dissolves, his grip tightening at your waist, holding you there, against him. His breath stutters for just a moment, his nose brushing against yours, and then he kisses you. His lips move over yours with such aching tenderness that your knees almost buckle. His hands smooth over the curve of your waist, fingertips trailing lightly along your spine, sending shivers down your back, making you arch into him. Your fingers find the front of his shirt, curling into the fabric, gripping tighter as your body melts further into his.

Then he pulls away just enough to wrap his arms around you and effortlessly lift you off the ground. You gasp softly as he positions you carefully on the counter, ensuring you're comfortable. His fingers slip beneath the soft fabric of your sweater dress, and instinctively, you part your legs in silent invitation. He doesn’t hesitate. He steps forward, pressing into the space between your legs, his body crowding against yours. Then his hand ventures further, toward the ache pooling between your legs.

He pulls back just enough to watch you, his lips parted, his breath mingling with yours. His eyes flicker between your gaze and where his fingers now hover. Then—his fingertips graze over the damp fabric of your underwear and a sharp breath escapes you.

His voice drops to a husky murmur. “You’re already so wet for me.”

Heat licks up your spine, not just from the way he touches you, but from the way he looks at you—devouring, mesmerized. Your cheeks flush, warmth creeping up your neck, your ears. Your grip on his shirt tightens as his touch grows bolder, his fingers tracing lazy circles over your folds, teasing, coaxing.

Your lips part on a quiet whimper, and he catches it, swallowing the sound as he leans in again, capturing your mouth in another slow, intoxicating kiss. His teeth graze your bottom lip, a teasing scrape that makes you shudder against him, makes your body arch instinctively. His fingers press firmer, brushing up, down—catching against your clit with just enough friction. You gasp softly, tightening your grip on him, your hips shifting involuntarily.

Then, his fingers hook over the waistband of your underwear, and you rest your hand against his shoulder, lifting your hips to help him slide the fabric down your legs. Heat blooms across your cheeks when you catch him tucking the lace into his pocket, and you’re even more flustered when you see the mischievous smirk on his lips.

His fingers trail back between your legs, but the first brush of his fingers against your bare folds makes you jolt.

"Relax for me, honey." His voice is soft, soothing, his lips just a breath from yours.

You nod, your breath shaky as you let your body give in. His fingers slide along your wet heat, teasing and exploring in slow, tender strokes. Your grip tightens on his shoulder as one finger circles your entrance, prodding and testing you. A quiet gasp escapes you as you tug at his shirt, pulling him closer—and you press your lips to his, your tongue tangling with his.

Then his finger pushes in slowly, making you feel every inch of that delicious stretch and every slick, teasing glide. He finds that sweet spot with ease, the one that makes your breath hitch and your toes curl. A soft curse slips from your lips as he strokes it again and again, spreading tingling warmth through you.

He savors your soft, breathy whimpers as he slides a second finger inside, curling them just right and moving them in deep strokes.

"Does that feel good?" he murmurs, giving you a moment to catch your breath.

You can only nod, unable to form words when he’s touching you so perfectly. Your gaze flickers downward—between your legs, where his fingers move, where his hand glistens with your arousal—and the sight alone sends another pulse of heat through you.

Xavier’s lips curve in a soft, knowing smile as he takes in your expression, your half-lidded eyes, your parted lips. His free hand lifts, cradling the back of your neck, tilting your head to expose your neck to him. His lips graze your skin, teasing at first, before his tongue flicks out, dragging a wet trail along the sensitive slope of your neck.

A sharp gasp escapes you as his thumb presses against your clit. He circles it in slow, lazy swirls, the pleasure deepening, pooling low in your stomach. Your thighs tremble, hips shifting involuntarily, chasing more, needing more.

"That’s it, honey." he breathes against your throat, his fingers plunging deeper, working you open. He latches onto your skin, sucking gently, his breath fanning over the damp spot.

The hand on his shoulder moves to hold onto his forearm, each precise stroke sending jolts of pleasure through you, winding that coil in your belly impossibly tight. You’re right there, trembling on the edge, every breath a shaky, desperate gasp. If you had any control left, you would be embarrassed by the broken sounds spilling from your lips—whimpers, soft cries, the only thing you can manage being his name, over and over like a plea.

Xavier groans low in his throat. “You sound so fucking beautiful,” he rasps, lips brushing your ear. “Come for me, princess. I’ve got you.”

His control is slipping—you can hear it in his voice, feel it in the way his hips press forward, seeking friction against your thigh. He’s trembling, barely holding himself back, and the thought alone sends pleasure ripping through you. You shatter against him, burying your face in his neck as your release crashes over you, your walls clenching around his fingers, slick dripping down his hand. He holds you through it, his grip firm, his breath ragged, whispering praise into your hair, your pleasure undoing him just as much.

Your lips press against his throat, muffling the last of your cries as your body trembles against him, and he’s not so sure he can hold back any longer. His hand catches your chin, tilting your face toward his. His thumb brushes along your jaw, eyes locked onto yours, dark and desperate. His chest rises and falls in uneven breaths, his restraint hanging by a thread.

“I need to feel you.” His voice is barely more than a whisper, trembling. “Please.”

Your body is still pulsing with the aftershocks of release, but you know you need more.

"Yes." You whisper, wasting no time to slip one hand between your bodies, trembling slightly as you reach for his pants.

Xavier groans softly, helping you with the belt when your hands fumble, his own need evident in the way he works quickly to unfasten it. The moment he pulls himself free, your breath catches—he's so hard, flushed and aching, the sight alone making you even more wet. You can’t help but wrap your fingers around him, feeling the weight, the heat, the pulse beneath your touch. When your thumb glides over the bead of precum on his tip, smearing it over the sensitive skin, a sharp hiss leaves his lips, his grip tightening on your waist.

"Fuck—" he exhales, his fingers wrapping gently around your wrist, stilling your touch before he brings your hand up, pressing a lingering kiss to the top of it. Then, as he lowers his gaze, positioning himself between your legs, his breath stutters again. His tip nudges against your soaked entrance, and just before he presses forward, his eyes flick back up to yours.

"I don’t have— Do you—?"

A soft smile tugs at your lips as you cradle his cheek, your thumb stroking along his jaw. "I'm covered," you murmur, brushing your lips over his. "And I trust you."

His exhale is shaky, his forehead pressing to yours before he finally moves. Carefully, the thick head of his cock begins to ease in, parting you with an aching stretch that has your body tensing before melting, your nails pressing into the firm muscles of his shoulders. You’re already so sensitive, still pulsing from his fingers, and this only adds to your dizzying arousal.

"Fuck," he grits out, his jaw clenching as he inches deeper. "You're so—"

The words die in a low groan as he bottoms out, pressing flush against you, his pelvis catching on your clit in a way that sends sparks through every nerve in your body. Your walls flutter around him, gripping him so tightly that he shudders, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

"Are you okay?" he breathes against your hair, his arms tightening around you.

You can’t speak—you can only whimper, nodding as your body adjusts. Your lips part against the crook of his neck, sucking lightly on the skin there, grounding yourself in the feel of him. His first thrust is slow, dragging — so controlled it’s almost torturous. You can feel the tremble in his muscles, the way his breath shakes as he exhales through gritted teeth.

"Look at you—so beautiful." A deep groan rumbles in his chest as you clench down around him, your walls gripping him so tight it makes his thrusts falter, his cock stroking against that perfect spot over and over.

Your hands slide up, fingers curling in his hair, tugging gently as you tilt your face up, finding his eyes.

"Xavier—ahh—" your voice is soft, pleading, "I’m so close. I need you—"

His cock twitches inside you, throbbing against your walls, slick and tight and perfect. His fingers dig into your hips, trying to hold back, but it’s no use. A desperate moan spills from your lips as his thumb returns to your clit, pressing, circling, matching the frantic stutter of his hips.

"You feel so fucking good," he rasps, voice wrecked, hoarse. "Taking me so well, honey."

Pleasure crashes into you, shattering, overwhelming. Your pussy clenches around him, pulsing, gripping, and Xavier curses under his breath, arms locking around you, holding you through it.

"That’s it—fuck—just like that,” he pants, breath shaky. “I’ve got you—haah—I'm so close."

His rhythm stutters, his hips grinding deeper, erratic, chasing the high. You’re still trembling, still lost in your high, but you don’t want him to stop—not with the way his cock throbs inside you, not with the way his breath stutters.

You tighten your legs around him, pulling him deeper. That’s all it takes.

Xavier chokes on a groan, his hands gripping you so tightly you know you’ll feel it tomorrow. His cock pulses, his entire body tensing as his release crashes into him, his hips pressing flush against yours as hot spurts of cum spill deep inside you. His breath breaks into uneven gasps against your ear as he grinds through it, his cum slipping out, messy and warm between you.

"Can’t get enough of you," he mutters, almost delirious. His lips brush your temple, his hands roam over you, slow, reverent. Even spent, his cock twitches inside you, hips rolling in lazy, absent thrusts, as if he’s already craving more.

"Never gonna get enough of you," he breathes.

Xavier doesn’t move for a while, and you don’t want him to. His arms stay wrapped around you, holding you close against his chest as his breath evens out, warm against your hair. His fingers trace light, absentminded patterns on your back, his other hand smoothing over the side of your waist, as if he can’t stop touching you. You sigh into him, boneless, completely melted in his hold, and he lets out a quiet, satisfied hum in response, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your temple.

His lips graze your forehead before pulling back just enough to meet your eyes. His gaze is warm and tender as he takes in the sight of you in the afterglow, "You have no idea what you do to me."

Your breath catches, your fingers tightening slightly where they rest against his shoulder, and you don’t know what to say. You don’t know how to say anything when all you want to do is hold onto this feeling forever.

So instead, you just nuzzle closer, in the crook of his neck where small, faint marks are forming on his skin. He smiles against your cheek, squeezing your waist before he loosens his hold, letting you shift against him.

And then your nose reminds you of something. Your eyes snap open, panic flashing through you as you sit up straight, hands flying to Xavier’s chest.

“Oh no!”

His brows furrow, confused at the sudden change. “What?”

“The bread!”

You scramble off the counter, adjusting your dress as best as you can, legs still shaky, as you rush to the oven, already bracing yourself for disaster. But when you peek inside, miraculously, the bread is still perfect. Golden brown, fluffy, not even close to burnt.

You let out a deep, relieved sigh.

As you take off the oven mitts after placing the bread on a cooling rack, you turn back to Xavier. He’s leaning lazily against the counter, pants in place, but his shirt still rumpled, his hair thoroughly disheveled. He looks impossibly handsome like this. But instead of letting yourself get distracted, you cross your arms, feigning a small pout. "You’re bad luck in the kitchen."

"Bad luck?" He tilts his head, and you instantly regret saying anything.

He pushes off the counter, strolling toward you with that confident ease, stopping just shy of pressing against you. "Didn’t seem like you minded the distraction."

Your face burns.

You could argue. You could roll your eyes, huff, tell him off for that smug little look he’s giving you. But what’s the point? He knows he’s right. And you’re too warm, too utterly spent to even deflect.

Before you can decide on a response, he moves.

One second, you’re standing there, legs still a little wobbly, and the next—Xavier scoops you up into his arms like you weigh nothing at all. A startled yelp slips past your lips, but it dissolves into breathless laughter as you grab onto his shoulders.

“Xavier—!”

But he only gives you a soft smile, before pressing his lips to yours.

By the time he pulls back, your head is spinning all over again.

He smirks down at you, adjusting his hold. “Come on, princess,” he murmurs, walking toward the bathroom. “We made a mess.”

As you gaze at his face, you muse how the once-distant, untouchable Xavier—the man who felt like a star too far away—has somehow become warm and steady and impossibly close.

And you’re just a giddy, melted puddle in his arms.

[dindjarindiaries]

Clueless

character: Din Djarin (The Mandalorian)

prompts: “Are you flirting with me?” “Have been for years, but thanks for noticing.”

main masterlist • prompt masterlist

You tapped around the usual controls you could reach from the chair behind Din's as the cockpit of the Razor Crest groaned to life around you. "How's the hyperdrive looking?"

Din kept moving his gloved hands along the main console as he answered. "It's online." He gave his helmet a quick tilt as he pushed one more button above his head. "For now."

Din exhaled a heavy breath and wrapped his hands around the joysticks, giving them a squeeze before he maneuvered the gunship off the ground. The breath you let out was one of relief; the two of you had certainly been trapped on worse planets before, but you were glad to see the sight of it fading below you.

"Glad you're confident in your work." You failed to hide your growing smile as you relaxed and let Din take care of the rest.

"This isn't a confidence problem." Din spared a look at you over his shoulder before he lifted his hands to grasp the hyperspace levers. "The Crest just manages to surprise me from time to time."

With that, Din pulled back, and the stars stretched out before you. They then burst into the familiar plethora of blue and white swirling lights, beginning yet another long journey through hyperspace.

Hopefully one that you wouldn't get forcefully pulled out of. Again.

But you were still stuck on what Din had said: This isn't a confidence problem. That drew a pleased hum from you, one that you didn't bother to keep hidden from him. It wasn't like he'd get it, anyway. Not if he hadn't the other countless times you'd done it.

"I like that."

Din, now leaning back in his chair, swiveled in his seat to face you. His helmet was tilted in genuine confusion. "Like what?"

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes as you instead gestured to him with your chin. "The confidence."

Din shrugged. "Comes from experience."

You smirked and kept your arms crossed over your chest. "I'd like to see what kind of experience."

Din didn't move, but his tone spelled out all the confusion you likely would have seen on his face if it wasn't covered by his helmet. "Was getting pulled out of hyperspace hours ago not enough experience for you?"

That time, you really did let yourself roll your eyes as you laughed and stood to your feet. Honestly, the tally of your advances versus Din's own cluelessness was getting difficult to keep track of. "Fair point."

You stepped over to Din and set a hand on his armored shoulder.

"It's been a long day. I'd say it's time for some beauty sleep, but you've already got the first part covered." You gave his pauldron a squeeze and turned around. "And no, rest isn't an option this time."

You could only get a few steps away, however, when you suddenly heard Din stand up behind you. "Wait."

You froze in place and looked at him over your shoulder, lifting your brow as you awaited him to retaliate with some kind of meaningless yet humorous joke.

Instead, you saw him nervously shifting his weight between his feet. Even his gloved hands were pulling tight into fists before he asked a question you never thought you'd hear.

"Are you flirting with me?"

As surprised as you were to hear the words, you didn't miss a beat with your response. "Have been for years, but thanks for noticing." You flashed him a wink and started walking forward again, letting your sudden adrenaline carry you. "See you in a few hours."

You had only just started to cross the cockpit's threshold when Din found his voice again. "What?"

You laughed to yourself but didn't stop your stride as you stepped over the ladder towards the storage space you had claimed as your own private bunk. The door slid open for you, but before it could close, something—or someone—stood in the way.

"Hold on."

Din sounded out of breath, and when you turned around, you saw him leaning against the metal material of the storage room's threshold. His body was still rigid, the same way it looked when he was preparing to leap into battle.

"You can't just... after you..." Din gestured absently behind himself, to the open cockpit.

You sighed and crossed your arms over your chest again as you fully faced him. "I know this incredibly obvious revelation is somehow news to you, but it's not to me, and I'd really like to get some sleep."

Din just shook his helmet in pure disbelief. His modulated voice was lower than usual when he spoke again. "All this time?"

You huffed and looked down at your boots. "What did you think I was doing?"

Din's tone with thick with embarrassment. "Being nice."

You laughed again. You couldn't help it. "Of course you did." You reached forward and tapped your knuckles against his helmet. "Your skull must be as thick as your beskar."

You stood back where you were before and watched Din carefully. His visor was focused on the floor, and his gloved fingertips were fluttering thoughtfully on the hand he had propped up by his head.

You closed your eyes and sighed. His cluelessness was even worse than you thought it was.

"Listen, Din, you clearly need some rest. Just... go to sleep and we can talk about this later. Okay?"

Din's helmet snapped back up to you at that. "No. I'm sorry, let me just..."

He leaned off the threshold but continued to stand in it, keeping the door open for himself. His gloved hand palmed his helmet as his chest rose and fell with a frustrated breath.

"Kriff."

You chuckled and shook your head at him. "Din, it's really not that big of a deal."

Din stared at you before his armored shoulders deflated. "It isn't?"

You let out a softer breath as your chest squeezed. "I didn't mean..." Now you were the one palming your face. "Not like that. I just meant that I'm not offended or anything."

Din tilted his helmet. "Offended by what?"

You shrugged, too overcome by your newfound embarrassment to look at him as your stare returned to your boots. "You not reciprocating."

Din let out a sigh so heavy that you had no choice but to look up at him again. He had changed his position so that his hands were set on his hips as he shook his helmet.

"That's the thing." His visor found your gaze before he nodded. "I've been trying to."

Now, it was really your turn to be shocked. You blinked at him a few times as your heart somersaulted in your chest. All this time, you thought your flirting was just a vain effort to get the attention of a man who would never be open to you or what you had to offer. You were starting to wonder if you had somehow managed to miss something.

You found your voice, but it was only a squeak. "What?"

Din gestured with a gloved hand behind you. "I'm not good with words, so I tried to do things. Like helping you set up this room. And cleaning your weapons." The next part was a mumble you nearly missed. "And making you that blanket."

You whipped around, spotting the blanket—your favorite, by the way—that had just shown up one day on your makeshift bunk. You huffed in disbelief and turned back around to face him. "That was you?"

"Who else?"

It was Din's turn to laugh, though it was only a raspy chuckle for him. He even turned your own question back on you.

"What did you think I was doing?"

And your answer was nothing different. "Being nice."

Din let out the biggest sigh you'd ever heard from him, and you couldn't even blame him.

Oh, the irony of it all. Maybe you were actually the clueless one.

"So..." You clasped your hands behind your back and rocked on your heels. " What now?"

Din shrugged. "Hell if I know." He gestured with his helmet behind him. "I think I just proved I'm not the most qualified in this area."

You spared another glance at the blanket. "Clearly, I'm not much better."

Din looked off to the side the way he always did when he was planning something. After a few heartbeats, he nodded to himself and looked at you again. "I might have an idea."

You lifted your brow. "Yeah?"

Din nodded again. "We should switch."

"Switch what?"

Din shifted his weight and used his finger to gesture between the two of you. "Techniques?" The suggestion came out as a question. "I'll try words, and you try actions."

You hummed in consideration before ultimately nodding. "Okay, yeah. I like that idea." You smirked at him. "You first."

Din, for once in his life, stammered. "What? I—Well, I can't just..."

"You can." You took a step closer to him. "You have something to say to me. I know you do."

It was then that something overcame Din, and you could see it in the way his posture relaxed into something much more familiar and comfortable. His visor gave you a steady once-over as he took a smaller step closer to you.

"I have a lot of things I want to say to you."

You let yourself embrace the flustered feeling even as you let out an impressed whistle. "That was good, Djarin! You're learning." You gave his armored shoulder a pat.

Din gave his helmet a soft tilt. "Your turn."

You grinned, letting your hand fall from his shoulder to instead grasp his arm. You other hand rose to meet it, and gently, you pulled him further into the room, causing the door to slide shut behind him. Din looked back at it in surprise, but when he looked at you again, he didn't seem displeased.

"I'm offering you my bunk." You gestured back towards it. "Because I want you here, but also because I don't want you sleeping on that sorry excuse for a bed down in the hold anymore."

Din chuckled at that, the sound thick with both amusement and admiration as he nodded. "Fair enough."

You helped him get settled into the bunk with you, draping the blanket he had apparently made over both of you as the final touch. Your face was the closest it had ever been to his visor as you laid beside him. Surprisingly, he was the one to break the brief silence.

"This is a good start."

You smiled, humming once more before getting close enough to rest your face against his cowl. "I agree."

The gloved hand you felt on your back was enough evidence of the fact that he was just as comfortable, now, and not as clueless as you had thought him to be.

[prokopetz]

My retro video game pet peeves:

No, sprite flicker on consoles like the NES didn't look like that. The NES ran at 60fps (and how it managed this on contemporary televisions which technically didn't support progressive scan is a fascinating piece of technical bugfuckery, if you have an afternoon to kill to read up on it), but YouTube downsamples all videos that are below a certain resolution to 30fps, which makes sprites that are flickering at 60fps look weird. The way that sprites sometimes seem to disappear entirely for long periods in NES gameplay footage on YouTube is also usually an artefact of this process – YouTube just happened to exclusively pick frames where the sprite in question is not visible when converting from 60fps to 30fps.

No, not all old-school pixel art was explicitly designed with "CRT fuzz" in mind. While this was often the case for games originally released for non-portable consoles, portable consoles have always had LCD screens (yes, even the original Game Boy!), so CRT fuzz simply wasn't a thing for them. Conversely, while desktop PCs of the era did use CRT monitors, from the mid 1980s onward, PC monitors typically used a variant CRT technology that had a much higher scan rate than contemporary CRT televisions in order to improve legibility of small text; such monitors had pixel sharpness comparable to that of modern LCD monitors, so CRT fuzz wasn't a thing for most PC games, either.

No, the textures on N64 and PS1 games weren't that bad. While these consoles were technically capable of resolutions up to 480p, this was very demanding for them, and rarely used outside of menus and cutscenes; actual gameplay output for games on these consoles typically ranged from 192p to 240p. The textures were of an appropriate size for the gameplay resolution. The whole "razor-sharp polygons with drab, muddy textures" look that pops up in a lot of retro media inspired by games of this era isn't imitating how such games look on their native hardware – it's imitating how they look when played on desktop PC emulators that have to stretch the textures all to hell in order to render them.

Like, I'm not saying these aren't valid aesthetic choices for modern retro games – particularly those that are trying to capture the experience of playing pirated console games on a janky PC emulator – but it's the spurious assertions of greater authenticity that often go with them that get my goat. If you want to slap a CRT filter on a Game Boy Advance title because you like the look of it, be my guest, but insisting that this is "how it was meant to be played" is simply false.

[late-to-the-party-81]

Hidden Affections

AN: Thanks for the prompt, @buckyys-babydoll. I hope you enjoy this bit of fluff with a big dollop of embarrassment and mutual pining.

Not beta’d, so apologies in advance.

Header by me and dividers by @firefly-graphics

Master list

Join my tag list here

Summary: You get tongue-tied around Bucky, which is inconvenient when you work with Sam and Joaquín. When he comes to the compound unannounced when you’re the only one there, you only have once course of action available — hide!

Relationship: Bucky x Reader (gender not specified but Sam calls you Sugar and Bucky calls you Doll and doll-face)

Word count: 1.6k

CW: Mild angst, fluff, unrequited crush (or is it?), embarrassment.

You didn’t know what it was about Bucky Barnes that upset your equilibrium so much. Okay, scratch that, you did know. It was because he was so freaking hot, that’s what! But you were frustrated that it — he — affected you so much. You worked with Sam and Joaquín regularly and they were both very attractive men and yet you managed to keep your cool around them. So what was it about him?

When he’d come to compound on previous occasions, to share intel or just hang out, you’d found yourself acting distracted and clumsy. Your usual verbosity disappeared to be replaced with one word answers that you had to stammer out. You’d decided a few weeks back that the best thing to do when Bucky appeared was to politely excuse yourself, taking your folders and binders and maps with you to a room far, far away from the supersoldier and his piercing blue eyes. It didn’t seem to stop him from finding you, though. Every time he visited he sought you out, even if just to say good-bye before he left to do whatever it was he did now. Each and every conversation was excruciating, leaving you to wish that the ground had opened up and swallowed you.

You couldn’t even figure out why he was coming to find you. You were no-one. He had no connection to you — didn’t know you from before and didn’t work with you now. You were Sam and Joaquín’s ground support, here to help analyse intel and look for any patterns of incidents. You weren’t anybody special.

Also, just to add to your confusion and embarrassment, Joaquín, the absolute turd of a surrogate brother he was, had picked up on your discomfort and taken to teasing you about it whenever he could. Luckily both he and Sam were currently absent from the building, twirling around in the sky overhead, getting in some flight practice. It meant you could get on with you analysis in peace.

Until the entrance sensor pinged.

Your eyes flicked up to the security video screen to see who’d crossed the boundary of the compound’s land. There were no visitors expected today, but you weren’t worried though — Sam would have received the alert as well, and the fact that he wasn’t immediately on comms with you meant whoever it was probably wasn’t hostile.

The screen showed a large motorcycle heading down the drive and you immediately froze.

Bucky.

Bucky was about to arrive and the others were out and it was just you here and…

You tapped a button on the console in front of you to open the comms up.

“Uh Sam, were you expecting Sergeant Barnes, because he’s on his way in?”

“Hey, Sugar. He said he might stop by. Told him me and Joaquín would be training, but he said he’d just hang out with you and wait for us.”

You gulped. You and Bucky. Sitting here together. Talking.

No, no, no, no, no…

“Umm. Okay, Sam. Thanks. Uh. See you two in a bit, I guess.”

Disconnecting the comms, you dropped your head into your hands with a groan. What were you going to do? You were a professional, grown-up, but just being in his presence turned you into a tongue-tied teenager.

Another chime from the security monitor let you know that Bucky had now entered the building and would be in the same room as you in the next couple of minutes. A wave of panic washed over you, and you stood up sharply, your chair shooting backwards as you flapped your hands.

What to do? What to do?

With a manic gaze you looked all around the room for something – anything – that would help you escape this nightmare.

There! In the corner! The cupboard. Maybe if you hid in there Bucky would think you weren’t in the building and he’d leave?

You hurried over and pulled the door open. For a moment you froze – you’d forgotten that Sam had stashed his old, broken suits in here – but you could hear Bucky’s footsteps and your brain had already committed to this plan of action, so you shoved your way between the hanging vibranium fabric suits and pulled the door as far closed as possible behind you.

In the dark of the cupboard, your breathing sounded loud in your ears and you forced yourself to slow it down. You peered with one eye through the gap in the door and had to clap your hands over your mouth as Bucky walked in.

Fuck! He was beautiful. His jaw length hair wafted around his face and his t-shirt and jeans looked painted on. You swore you could see every individual ab on his stomach.

You watched as he looked around the room, seemingly perplexed. He strode over to your workstation and poked at your abandoned papers, before turning to look at your equally abandoned chair. He walked around it, staring at it, as though by doing so it might give up the secret of your whereabouts. Then his eyes flicked up and you swore they were momentarily locked with yours through the tiny slit in the cupboard door.

Swallowing down a squeak, you tried to push backwards into the musty and metallic smelling fabric. However, as you did so, your heel caught on something lying on the floor, probably one of Sam’s old boots and you staggered. Your hands shot out as you instinctively tried to break your fall and you grabbed at the suits, but they fell off the hangers. With an inelegant screech you fell over and the suits tumbled down on top of you.

A few seconds later, the world around you brightened, not that you could see much, what with a red white and blue suit covering your head.

“Hey, Doll. You alright there?” Bucky sounded a little amused and you were glad he couldn’t see your face.

“Yeah, I’m… uhh… just sorting out some old bits and pieces. I’m good. Really,” was your muffled reply, but internally you were shrieking to yourself. What were you saying? Really? You were trying to convince him that this was purposeful? He might technically be 108 years old, but he wasn’t stupid.

You blinked rapidly as your vibranium fabric shroud was removed from your head, and as your eyes adjusted you saw Bucky crouched in the cupboard doorway, a soft smirk on his face.

“You sure you’re not stuck in there?”

You felt the heat of embarrassment wash up your neck and you realised there really was no way of getting out of this with your dignity intact, what little there was left anyway.

“Okay, maybe I could use a little help.”

“Just a little,” Bucky repeated, holding his left hand up with the thumb and index finger a scant centimetre apart. “Come on, let’s get you outta here.” He reached out and you clasped his hand, realising this was the first time you’d ever touched each other. A quick, controlled tug and you were back on your feet and your free hand landed on his chest as you regained your balance.

“Umm, thanks,” you whispered and took a step back. However, Bucky didn’t let go of your hand and you jerked to a stop. You looked down to where he still held you and couldn’t believe that he was rubbing his thumb back and forth across your skin. “Is, uh, there anything else I can help you with? Sam and Joaquín should be back soon. I could, umm, get you a cup of coffee or something?”

“Coffee would be great, Doll, but only if we go get some together.”

Your head snapped up. “What? I mean, pardon?”

Bucky grinned at you. “Come get a coffee with me. I mean, I could be wrong, but I think you might like me as much as I like you.”

“You like me?” Your voice rose in pitch with surprise.

“Uh, yeah. Quite a lot, actually,” and you saw a blush creep across his cheeks as he broke eye contact to look down at where your hands were still joined. “I thought I was making it obvious enough by always coming to find you each time I visited, but some winged ego-maniac told me that maybe I was being too subtle. And then a smaller, but similarly annoying baby-bird may have let it slip that I probably wouldn’t be turned down.”

The gears in your head started turning. “Did Sam tell you to come here today?”

Bucky looked at you from under his sinful, dark lashes. “Yeah. He said he has some things – intel – he needed to go through with me. Get my opinion.”

“Sonofa…” you muttered. “He and his boy- wonder are out flying circuits of the state, and not due back for a while. I think we’ve been set up.”

Bucky nodded at your words. “Well that explains some things. However, it doesn’t explain to me why you were hiding in the cupboard. Care to elaborate, doll-face?”

“Absolutely not. I plead the fifth.”

Bucky’s lips – those plush kissable lips – twisted in wry amusement and his eyes sparkled. “Hmm, can’t have you incriminating yourself, so I’ll let it go. This time. And only if you come for a coffee with me.”

“Are you always this pushy, Sergeant Barnes?”

“Only when I see something I want, and know that it’s mutual.” He stopped for a moment, his expression changing to one of curiosity. “It is mutual, isn’t it? Joaquín wasn’t yanking my chain?”

“You think I hide from just anybody?” You said with a chuckle. “Come on, Sergeant. You said something about coffee?”

“I did, didn’t I? Oh, and Doll..”

“Yes?”

“Call me Bucky.”

Tag list: @km-ffluv @wheezy-stucky @kmc1989 @kombatfather1796

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[httpsdana]

hey queen!! I hope that your exams went as you hoped and that you’re doing well🙂‍↕️

I would like to request a hurt/comfort fic with Pau where the reader comforts him after his red card in the cl match against benfica🫶 the reader’s worried about Pau since he‘s being super hard on himself and feels really down. since he’s upset he gets quite clingy, so y/n gives him lots of hugs, holds his hands, runs her hand through his hair, gives him small kisses, etc, to console him. generally just super sweet at fluffy <33

thanks in advance!! also btw your writing is literally BOMBBB, I love it sm😛😛

Mistakes Happen~Pau Cubarsi

・❥・prompt list

・❥・masterlist -> part 2

・❥・who I write for

・❥・a/n: my exams were so bad but thank youu 💓 should've written this ages ago but I was too lazy to do it so. enjoy <3

When he got the red card against Benfica, almost everyone lost hope. It was the same scenario as last year; getting a red card early in the match and continuing the rest with only 10 players against a tough opponent.

Except this time, they managed to win. And although she was happy that the team won, her thoughts drifted to the teenage boy who had left the pitch early, trying not to cry.

As soon as the match ended, she took her phone and dialed his number. It rang a few times before he answered.

“amor…” His voice was weak, breath shaky and unsteady.

“Pau…hi, baby,” she murmured, trying to ignore the way her chest hurt at the tone of his voice.

There was silence for a while. Neither of them dared to say a word.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, a deep sigh escaping his lips.

She clutched her phone tighter, trying not to tear up.

“Don’t be, cariño. Things like this happen in football,” she said, her voice soft and comforting. She hugged her phone close to her chest, wishing she could hold him instead.

“I…” He was about to say something before some noise in the background interrupted him.

“I’ll come by soon. Coach needs us now,” he said, and she nodded as if he could see her.

“Okay, baby. I love you,” she said, almost seeing him smile a little.

“I love you more,” he mumbled before the line went dead.

After a few hours of waiting, there was a gentle knock at the door. She jumped from her bed to open it, careful not to wake her parents. She opened the door, and there stood Pau, a frown on his face and his shoulders slumped in disappointment.

“Come in, amor,” she said, grabbing his hand gently and guiding him to her room before closing the door behind them.

She wrapped her arms around him briefly, holding him tight as if trying to offer him a little warmth and comfort.

She didn’t dare say a word when Pau pulled away and sat on the edge of her bed, his face in his hands to avoid looking into her eyes.

“I messed up badly…” he murmured, his voice broken and hurt.

“You didn’t, Pau. Mistakes in football happen. And the team won, so don’t be hard on yourself, baby,” she said, sitting beside him and gently brushing the hair off his forehead. She reached out to hold his hand, giving it a soft squeeze.

“But I made it harder on them. Pedri almost passed out from how much he ran, covering the spaces where I was supposed to be,” he let out a sigh, leaning his head against her shoulder. She wrapped her arm around his back, pulling him closer.

“No one is blaming you. You did your job, even if it didn’t end up like we expected,” she said, pressing a light kiss on his forehead. She held him for a moment, offering him comfort through her touch.

“I just wanted to make you proud,” he whispered, his eyes closing as he breathed in her scent.

“You know I’m always proud of you, Pau. I’m so proud of everything you’ve done and are doing right now. You’re only eighteen, for God’s sake,” she chuckled softly, making him hum. She kissed the top of his head gently, her fingers brushing through his hair.

“Promise you’ll always be proud of me in the future?” He looked up at her, his green eyes blurred with tiredness.

“I’ll always be proud of you, cariño,” she mumbled, cupping his jaw gently before leaning down and kissing his lips softly. The kiss was tender, lingering for just a moment before she pulled back.

“Come on, let’s get you to sleep,” she said, pulling him up with her and covering his body with the blanket. She kissed him again, this time on the cheek, as she settled him in.

She laid back beside him, and before she had the chance to cover herself, Pau’s head was on her chest, his arm wrapped tightly around her waist as he let out a deep sigh.

“I love you, princesa,” he muttered, his eyes already closing.

“I love you more, honey. I’m so proud of you,” she said against his hair, pressing a kiss on the corner of his head before she herself drifted to sleep.

my taglist: @barcapix @paucubarsisimp @spidybaby @mxryxmfooty @n0vazsq @joaosnovia @ilovebarcaaaa @f1lover55 @jajajhaahaha (lmk if you want to be added!!)

[gay-dorito-dust]

Do you still take requests for Ford x reader?? If yes can I pls request reader teaching Ford how to kiss? I've just read headcanon that despite whole kissing robot history this men is inexperienced as f. ck, I would appreciate if it was more fluff than steamy, just lots of giggling, flustered senior citizen and bonding moment, thank you in advance!!

‘You haven’t never kissed anyone? Never?’ You asked as you sat across from the older man.

Ford scratched the back of his head as he averts his gaze towards where your knees pressed against one another, finding it more interesting than meeting your eyes at the moment. ‘I’m sure you’ve been told by Stanley of the whole robot incident back in highschool.’ He trails off while a blush spreads across his handsomely aged face.

It was obvious that he was embarrassed by it but you couldn’t help but think about how well he looked when being flustered and shy, sure the smart man of science act was well fitting for him too, however you can’t help yourself but to admire how cute Ford looked with cheeks the colour of cherries and a sheepish smile that made it almost impossible for you not to hold his face between your hands and kiss him senseless; Yet you managed to restrain yourself as to not frighten Ford off by accident.

You smiled as you reached your hand out to hold his own, which was clenching his trousers until his knuckles were white, and rub your thumb over it reassuringly. ‘That’s okay, there’s no shame in not having kissed anyone, if it’s any consolation I didn’t have much luck either until far later in life.’ You said and Ford looked at you.

‘Really?’ He asks.

‘Yeah, why do you sound so surprised?’ You replied.

‘Well you’re you, anyone would be very lucky to have shared such an intimate first with you.’ Ford said softly as you now felt yourself become flustered from his comment, smiling sheepishly as you glanced down at your lap before looking back over at him again, shrugging your shoulders. ‘Not many people see me the way you do, but then again most people don’t bother to look up from their phone screens nowadays to notice anything of worth.’

‘Sounds like their loss.’ Ford says and your waves it off.

‘It is their loss,’ you glanced towards his lips, unable to hide the need to feel themselves against yours a second longer. ‘would you like me to kiss you now.’ You add abruptly and straight forward that poor Ford-who was already on the edge of the bed- almost fall off had your hand holding his own not keep him steady and in place. ‘I wouldn’t- I- if you don’t mind.’ Ford fumbled his words as he readjusted his glasses back up his nose out of nervousness. You then reached both hands up to cup his face, feeling the warmth of his cheeks against your palms and stroking the skin in means to ease the tension within him as best you could.

‘Relax Ford I can feel how tense you are and I’m just holding your face.’ You giggled and Ford couldn’t help but giggle alongside you, feeling himself stuck between whether he was excited or absolutely nervous about finally having his first kiss at the ripe age of 60, however he knew that he was the safest he’ll ever be within your presence was enough to have him relaxing within your touch. ‘Sorry.’ He apologised.

You kissed his nose, hearing his breath hitch in his throat. ‘It’s okay, there’s no need to apologise for how you feel, just let me know when you want me to stop or explain something better.’ You tell him, stroking his cheeks gingerly to make him relax once more, you were quick to notice how his body went rigid and on edge at every little thing you did but you hoped that sooner or later he’ll become more comfortable.

‘Okay, please continue.’ Ford said and you were more than happy to as you then proceeded to rest your forehead against his own, staying there as you felt his warm breath fan your face as you looked deeply into his dark, expressive eyes.

‘I prefer to hold someone by the face before I kiss them but there’s many ways to give their hands something to do instead of just hanging limp at your sides, it’s just up to you and what you feel comfortable with.’ You tell Ford as you then felt his hands nervously find their place at your waist, it was obvious he was still a little awkward and tense about doing something wrong, but other then that it was nice to see him experiment with what felt best for him.

‘See you’re getting the hang of it.’ You praised him softly as he smiled at you shyly.

‘I’m merely doing what’s being suggested to me in hopes of it not making things awkward.’ He says and you chuckled.

‘You’re doing fine, besides nobody gets the hang of it straight away, so take your time.’ You remind him as you then took the opportunity to innocently peck his lips, making Ford gasp at the contact before replicating your actions by pecking you on the lips in response. It was quick, almost missable but the warmth on your lips told a different story but proven to have you feeling butterflies within your stomach regardless from such a small gesture.

‘Was that okay?’ He asks and you peck his lips again.

‘It was more than okay Ford, just let it linger a little longer.’ You advised and Ford then once again pecks your lips, taking your advice and letting it linger there for a couple of seconds longer, though not too long for it to overstay its welcome, before pulling away. ‘How was that?’

You smile. ‘Perfect, ready to delve a little further?’

Ford hums and you took that as an opportunity to kiss him again before softly weaving your lips between his, switching from the bottom lip to the top lip simultaneously as you felt Ford try to mimic your lips as best as he could. God he was so adorable that you couldn’t help but laugh against his lips, causing Ford to pull away to look at you quizzically. ‘What’s so funny?’ He inquired.

‘Nothing,’ you began as you let a few chuckles slip past, ‘just how adorable and sweet you’re being with me. It’s okay to put a little more pressure, I won’t bruise sweetheart.’ You add as you go in to kiss him again, weaving your lips between his own for a bit before feeling him begin to weave his between yours with the right amount of pressure. His kiss was delicious as it was soft but firm, awkward but slowly gaining in confidence, it was so uniquely Ford that you couldn’t help but press into him a little deeper, smiling against his lips when you felt him press further into you.

While you wanted the kids to last a little longer your lungs reminded you that you were only human- a human in desperate need of oxygen- as you pulled away from Ford, panting but with a smile upon your face that was mirrored by Ford as he rubbed soothing patterns into your sides.

‘Wow.’ Ford said breathlessly.

‘Wow indeed.’ You replied, just as out of breath as he was but you couldn’t help but press a flurry of kisses against his face as his hold on your waist tightens as he brings you in close, forgetting just how close to the edge of the bed he was, until you were both sent to the floor below in a heap of tangled limbs.

You and Ford looked at one another before bursting out laughing just as Stanley came into the room to see what made that loud noise, only to see the two of you laughing on the floor as you cling to each other like a lovesick couple.

Stanley sighed but couldn’t help but smile at you both before leaving the room, and leaving you and Ford to trade more kisses as you laid tangled in each other, not that the two of you mind as you couldn’t think of being anywhere else other then each others arms.

[straystarr]

darling, i'd wait for you

In which he will wait for you, only if you want him to.

to be loved, is to be seen.

“You literally told me you weren’t going to get stupid drunk and now you’re acting all baby and distracting me while I’m driving.” 

“You’re being…..ridicu-lush…’m not even that drunk…Are we th–ere yet!” Minho’s incoherent rambling seemed to melt away any irritation developed from the unexpected request. 

You couldn’t help but smile at his intoxicated state. Rarely does he allow himself the pleasures of inebriation, but when he does, he surely is a source of entertainment. 

“Innie, how much did you have to drink tonight.” You briefly glanced at the youngest sitting in the passenger seat, catching the sight of dimples appearing in response, his eyes squinting as if the sun were upon him.

“Noona, has anyone ever told you how pretty you are.” Jeongin whispered, with his finger finding its way to your cheek and pressing a little too hard for your comfort. 

“Innie, I love you but I’m driving, please remove your finger from my cheek.” You say, swatting his hand away, only causing a frown to form on his lips. 

When your bestfriend, Minho, had called you at one in the morning requesting for a ride home, you left the comfort of your bed with minimal hesitation. Upon arriving, the audible groan that left your lips captured the attention of not only Minho, but three other boys sitting on the side of the road with the silliest smiles on their faces, only indicating their lack of consciousness and the long night ahead of you. 

Now the four boys sat paperlike in your car — folded, bent, and pushed into whatever position they could find comfortable in their current states. 

Stopping at a red light, you shifted your body towards the right, half startled, half amused with the sight of Hyunjins head on your window panel, body limp as he cuddled against the door side. 

Once his eyes met yours, his subtle smile turned sinister. “Come here often?” 

With a roll of your eyes, you turned back towards the front. “What is up with you two getting flirty when you're drunk— Minho, when you called for a ride, you could have mentioned the baggage you had with you.” 

Jeongin pouted at your words, but the wink you sent his way had him giggling, his hand reaching to hold onto the one you kept on the console. 

It was a little too quiet for what you expected from the drama queen himself, but one look in the rear view showcased Minho with his head on Hyunjins shoulder, mouth slightly agape and eyes shut closed. At least one of you would be getting sleep tonight. 

You managed to glance over at Jisung who had been quietly watching the scene unfold, chin resting on the palm of hand, with his eyes already meeting yours. 

“And you?” 

“Don't worry baby, I sobered up the second Minho said you were coming.”

There it was. You expected nothing less and everything more. Jisung had been suspiciously quiet and tame from the moment you arrived. And when you were present, Jisung was never silent and always on the roll. 

Initially, you took his straightforward advances as a sign of acceptance into the friend group, little did you know, it was a sign for you to become his “one and only sugarplum”.

Jisung swore to the heavens and earth that you would be his, to which you would respond with the stick of your tongue or shake of the head. He was humorous in his attempts, and always respectful of your boundaries and discomfort. So simply, you were stuck with him hot on your trail, and you didn’t mind it. But you wouldn’t tell him that. 

“Also, Innie I love you, and I’d kill for you, but I'd appreciate it if you kept your hands off my woman.” Jisung spoke with a pout, eyes fixated on Jeongins hand that enclosed your own. 

Jeongin pulled his hand away, crossing his arms against his chest while shifting in his seat towards Jisung. “Hyung, she isn't even yo-urs yet.” He states in confidence before laying back onto the seat, the alcohol seemingly taking its worst effects, his head leaning onto the headrest.

“Yet?!”

“It's the principle of the situation Innie.” Jisung says, sending a nod of approval to Jeongin and completely ignoring your outburst. 

“Y/n, give my man a break and do something proactive please.” 

“Hyunjin, you’re supposed to be on my side.”

You sent him a playful glare through the rear view mirror, only eliciting the smirk on his face. 

”I’m on the side of love darling.” Hyunjin smugly claims, sending a wink to you and blowing a kiss to Jisung. Shaking your head, you tried to ignore the pair of eyes burning a hold into the back of your head, out of said ‘love’ of course. 

It’s not that you’re completely opposed to the idea of crossing the lines with Jisung, heck— Han Jisung was the epitome of everything you were looking for in a person, if not more. But as much as he would make a good boyfriend, he already makes for a great friend. And who were you to throw a wrench into the friendship dynamic of the group. 

By your logic, destroying something already good for the hopes of something better was not at all ‘better safe, than sorry’. 

So even if he was honey when he spoke to you, sugar with how he treated you and an obvious God favourite by his physical attributes, your fight or flight instincts were evident in your neutralism. 

How ironic of you to remain stubbornly impartial to a man completely obsessed with you given the fluctuations of your heart rate in his presence. 

Ignorance may be bliss, but intentional ignorance can be foolish. You recall the smirk Minho sported upon giving his unsolicited opinion on the situation. 

“I need to pee.” Minho announced, startling you out of your thoughts. 

You quietly thanked the universe for its impeccable timing as you pulled up in front of Jeongin and Chan's apartment. Minho crawled over Hyunjin, almost tripping over himself before sprinting inside the building. 

“How was he literally passed the fuck out a few seconds ago and now moving like he didn’t have an ounce of alcohol?” You asked, mouth ajar from your best friend's actions. Jeongin giggled, a silly grin on his face as he moved closer to your face. 

“Don’t even think about it.” Jisung warned teasingly, to which Jeongin rightfully ignored, pressing a quick peck to your cheek before leaving your car. 

“Thanks y/n, you’re mine until you finally give into Jisung.” 

“Can’t believe I have to share.” Jisung reached over to you, his sleeve pulled over his hand as he dabbed the place Jeongin’s lips had touched you. You chuckled, swatting his hand away with your tongue sticking out. 

“Respectfully, you guys make me sick.” Hyunjin joked, one hand covering his eyes while the other unbuckled his seatbelt. 

You raised an eyebrow, considering that perhaps he was more intoxicated than he came out to be. “Hyun, we aren’t at your home yet.” 

Hyunjin continued to open the care door slowly, as if he were doing something he was told not to do. “I’m too sleepy to make it back to my apartment.” 

Your eyes narrowed at him. 

“It’s literally a five minute drive.” Jisung argued, slightly slouched against the car seat. 

“Five minutes I could be spending sleeping.” Hyunjin stated, his hands crossed over his chest. 

“Thank you y/n, you deserve the world. Minho has probably passed out again so, no need to wait for him. Goodnight.” He exclaimed, nonchalantly blowing you a kiss and making his way out of the car. 

You could only watch him make his way into the building, finding no energy to argue or call out his bullshit, knowing full well why he’d sacrifice going home. A wingman — as good and true as it gets. When he said he was on the side of love, he meant it. 

You softly sighed, shifting in your seat and making eye contact with Jisung. 

“This is fate.” 

“Ji, I literally saw the wink Hyunjin sent you.” 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

He looked you dead in the eye, and if it weren’t for the silly smile breaking out on his lips, you would have almost deemed yourself delusional. 

“But if you did perhaps see him wink, I think he may have had something in his eye.” You shook your head, a laugh erupting from the back of your throat. 

Jisung watched you, his fondness leaking into a smile. Without thought, he made his way out of the car, opening your passenger door and planting himself beside you. You raised a brow, to which he responded with full preparedness, “What I’m not going to do is let my wife sit in the front alone like some Uber driver.”.

You could only lean against your steering wheel, cheek cold from the material and eyes trained on the boy who was ready to give you the world. 

Maybe it was the fact that it was two in the morning and the fanatics of the night were beginning to drain you, or maybe it was the boy beside you who continued to stare, his eyes drifting from your gaze to your lips and back again. But the thought of kissing him didn’t seem so bad. 

To kiss him and call him yours. Kiss him and have him kiss back. Kiss him and tell him you like him. Kiss him and have him tell you he likes you. Kiss him and feel what it would be like to have the world in your hands, or rather on your lips. Kiss him and never stop. 

Kiss him. 

Kiss him. 

Kiss him. 

“Are you ok baby?” 

You cleared your throat, breaking eye contact as your fingers fumbled to turn the key in the ignition. 

“I’m fine.” 

The heat on your cheeks must have been obvious with the chuckle Jisung let out, and it only grew with the use of his favourite pet name for you. 

You refused to even catch a glimpse of him, eyes locked in on the road ahead. You shook your head to free yourself from the thoughts, astounded at what lack of sleep can conjure — because of course, it was the sleep behind the warm wave in your chest and the cherry wine on your cheeks. Of course. 

With the way you were forcing your eyes open, the exhaustion fell to your mouth, a yawn escaping despite your efforts to hold it in. 

Jisung caught your yawn, hand covering his mouth before slightly chuckling at your state. You bit your lip, a sudden urge making you groan at the favour in the back of your mind. 

“Ji, I’m really sorry but can I use your washroom?”

“I'm not gonna deprive you after you woke up at almost the butt crack of dawn just to drive us home y/n.” 

Jisung pushed open the car door, pulling himself out before making his way towards the driver’s side and mirroring his actions. 

The side of your lips instinctively curled up, taking his stretched out hand and following him into the apartment building. 

“Well, to be fair, I did think it was only Minho….” You teased, to which he dropped your hand, causing you to almost regret your words. Almost. 

Jisung let out a dramatic gasp while laying one hand on top of the left side of his chest while the other rested on his hip.  

“You’re telling me you’d leave the love of your life stranded on the side of the road.” 

“In a heartbeat.” 

You trudged past the door he began to hold open for you, hands in the process of taking your shoes off when Jisung’s hand enclosed yours again. 

“So you admit it.”

He paused, a silly smirk only encouraging the confusion on your face. 

“That I’m the love of your life.”

You tried to speak, tried to argue, to defend your honour against such a treacherous assumption. But he looked at you, with his big eyes, pure and gentle and that smile of his, soft and sincere. All of a sudden, his truth was yours. Because you loved his eyes and you loved his smile. And you couldn’t imagine a world in which his eyes never looked your way and his smile was nonexistent in your presence. 

So you bit your tongue, for you knew better than to lie. 

Jisung watched, slightly taken aback by the lack of confidence in your efforts of denial. You inhaled a sharp breath, your hand falling from his grasp. 

“I need to pee.” You urgently stated. Making your way down the hall and refusing to maintain eye contact any longer. 

Minho was in for an earful the next time you see him. This at least, is truth you would acknowledge. 

★.

“I made ramen.”

Jisung was seated on the couch, a cup of instant goodness in his hand and another on the table in front of him. 

You hesitantly made your way towards him, sinking into the couch you were no stranger to, having slept on it on multiple occasions during your movie nights with Minho. 

But still, you felt unfamiliar in ways you couldn’t quite comprehend, leaving enough space in between you to make Jisung raise an eyebrow but maintain the ongoing silence. 

“You didn’t have to.” 

You tried to lighten the mood you dampened, your hands gripping a little too hard onto the cup as his eyes dragged towards your face once more. Jisung’s lips curved into a smile, motioning for you to dig in. 

“I wanted to.”

There it was again. 

The slight beating in your chest that became all you could perceive, the warmth that somehow travelled from the cup in your hands to your cheeks, the desire to take his face into your hands and kiss him until you melted into his skin. 

Fuck. 

“Thank you.”

You muttered, cowardice in your volume and attempted smile. For if you tried to speak any louder, your thoughts might rush past your lips and smack right against his own. 

Jisung nodded, pausing for a few seconds to observe your sudden shyness before bringing the cup closer to his mouth and slurping away at his hangover meal. You mimicked his actions, zoned in on the task at hand to avoid any and all thoughts that revolved around the boy sitting beside you. 

“Listen, I know this may be weird to bring up right now.” 

You stopped fiddling with the chopsticks in your hand, lifting your head instinctively towards his voice. Your head cocked to the side, an encouraging action to continue his thoughts. Jisung hesitated, his eyes falling from your gaze, somewhat shy to maintain eye contact. 

“If it ever gets uncomfortable, you know the jokes from the guys and myself — please let me know and I’ll make sure it stops.” 

He cleared his throat from the nervousness that accumulated, expectant eyes watching the way your lips fell apart. You took your time to process his words, but no time could prepare you for the heaviness swarming inside your chest. 

“Jokes?” You managed to let out, your face dropping with your tone. 

Your change in demeanour caught Jisung off guard, not sure what to make of it, but alert to quickly clarify himself. 

“The teasing from the guys, me constantly calling you my wife or baby—”

Jisung swiftly set his cup of noodles down, his head hung low while he fumbled with his fingers. 

“You… you kind of shut down after the whole love of my life joke earlier and for that, I owe you an apology. I’m sorry if I’ve made you uncomfortable and I’m sorry for only acknowledging it now.” 

A halting breath flew past your lips, low enough for you to pay no attention in hiding it, concerning enough for Jisung to lift his head, eyes widening at the way your bottom lip fell out with a certain gloss glazing your eyes. 

“Y/n–” 

“Jisung–” 

You bit your lip. He held his breath. 

“I'm sorry–”

“I'm not upset–”

You stared at each other, mouths slightly agape and eyes ever so hopeful. A stifled laugh broke out of your body, one in which Jisung reproduced, his hand coming up to cover his eyes while you repositioned yourself on the couch, now reasonably close to him. 

The last few giggles dissipated into the air, your chest slowly deflating from all the escaped air. Jisung peeked through his fingers, his hand falling as he turned his body towards you. Your lips parted to speak, but no sound was made with the way he looked at you. 

So concerned. So humoured. So genuine. 

Jisung cleared his throat, almost sure he was going to feel some sort of soreness with his repetition of the action. 

“Clearly something’s on your mind and if you’re not upset then you know you can talk to me about whatever it may be.” 

He spoke softly, barely audible in order to not disturb you anymore than he believes he has. 

Little did he know, you strained your ears, catching each word coming from his mouth. How you wished to engrave his voice in your mind, to hold his hands that clenched in his lap, to press your lips on the corners of his outstretched lips. 

Ignorance is bliss. But intentional ignorance is foolish. 

“I am upset.” 

Jisung blinked once: dazed, then twice: confused. 

“But you said…..”

“What I meant is, I’m not upset because I’m uncomfortable.” 

You moved closer to him, the side of your thigh slightly brushing against his. You could feel yourself physically hesitating, your mind running with doubts chasing after it. 

Fuck it. 

“I'm upset because it's all a joke to you.” 

He looked dazed— eyes wide, eyebrows burrowed and lips parted. You bit your bottom lip, unsure of what to say, but more than ready to run out of the door. 

And then his eyes grew bigger than you thought they were capable of while he closed the small space between your bodies, hands on either side of your face before you could react to the sudden close proximity. 

“I can't believe it.” 

His hands pushed into your cheeks, your lips jutting out in the process. 

“I made you doubt my love for you.” 

His hands found his own face, groaning into them before he combed through his hair, the waves falling back into place when he let go. Your cheeks were still warm from his touch, but nothing would compare to the relief inside of your chest, overwhelming but necessary. 

“Ji–”

“Y/n. Oh my gosh— I didn’t mean it like that. It was never a joke to me. You could never be a joke to me—” 

He stopped himself, a slow breath evident in his sinking chest. 

“I can’t help but notice the slightest change in your expression or mood. I can’t help but know you prefer the window seat in any scenario because you love watching the world. I can’t help but be starstruck every time you laugh because I love the sound of your laugh.” 

Jisung sighed, somewhat relieved to tell his truth but almost shy to look you in the eye. 

“I feel so much for you. Sometimes it's overwhelming.” 

He lifted his gaze from his lap, eyes now pinpointed on the face he adored. 

“But I’d rather be overwhelmed than not experience what I feel for you at all because it's the most beautiful thing that's ever happened to me….. And I know you don’t feel the same and that's totally ok, well — I’m not going to lie, it not the most ideal situation, but our friendship matters—”

“Jisung.”

He paused. As did you, voice strained but present. You ached for his attention, if not more. And now that you had it, you’d be even more of a fool if you didn’t say what you’ve been wanting to say to him. Just this once. 

“Aren’t you curious as to why I'm upset because I thought you thought it was all a joke.”

Jisung inhaled a sharp breath, one to which prompted a soft smile on your face, your hands ever so slightly falling on top of his. 

“I feel alot for you too, and not just platonically. I think about you constantly and I find myself daydreaming about you when you're not around. I look forward to the way you treat me and I get disappointed when you refer to me as y/n and not those silly pet names you have that I most definitely adore.” 

He only continued to stare, almost as if he were absorbing the way your hair fell towards your face with the way you dropped your head for a moment, collecting yourself to continue the complexity of what was your thoughts and feelings. 

“This whole night — all I've been thinking about is kissing you and your pretty lips and it's driving me insane because at the end of the day— At the end of the day, I'm scared. What we have is already so wonderful and while I know we can have something even more wonderful, I…..I just don’t want a life in which you aren’t in it.” 

It was still. Not uncomfortable or awkward or tension filled. Rather relieved, overwhelmed and comforting. Comfort was found in the way in which his thumbs rubbed back and forth on the back of your hands, as if he were saying ‘I’m here, I’m listening’, as he has, as he always does. 

Soon, his hands crawled up your arms, pulling you towards his chest, simultaneously, your hands grazed towards his shoulders, falling into him. 

What was rather an odd position, as your bottom was neither fully on him or on the couch and he strained his back to keep you both afloat instead of falling over, was one you’d think about in times of doubts and hesitations. A hug is sometimes all one needs in times of uncertainty. 

“I’m sorry. I am in genuine shock right now. I feel like if I don’t touch you, I’m going to wake up from the best dream ever and then cry because it was all a dream.” 

Your chest vibrated against his, enticing a chuckle that followed the beat of yours. You closed your eyes, intoxicated with what was this moment. 

Jisung shifted his weight, pulling you down with him as his back leaned against the couch. He held onto you tighter than he would admit whenever you’d tease him about this moment in the coming future. And while you had poured your heart and soul into his hands, he now felt vulnerable, frightened to accidently tarnish what was, you. 

Perhaps that is how love worked. To think for two instead of one. To act for two instead of one. To feel for two instead of one. To love, in consideration. This, he could do. For you. With you. 

“y/n — can I wait for you?”

“Please.” 

“Can I kiss you?” 

“I’d like that.”

AN: A gentle or not so gentle reminder that this is written fanfiction. xoxo

𝙎𝙏RAy𝙎𝙏𝘼𝙍r★

[seraphinitegames]

Hey, Mishka!!!

I've been replaying TWC over the last couple of months, and must say, it's been an entirely rejuvenating experience for me. Like, I was reading it the first time, although I've replayed the series quite too many (worrying number) of times already. And it still manages to amaze me, EVERY SINGLE TIME.

I've repeated this in the past, and I'll repeat it again. The Wayhaven Chronicles is a blessing for me and I'm sincerely thankful to have come across it when I did. And I'm grateful to you for making this lovely world a reality (and of course, the four beautiful vamps)! Really eager for Book 4 and have already player the demo; can say it's gonna be worth the wait. It every time is.

Replaying the series in the last few months, I had a certain uncontrollable urge to drop and ask a few questions to you. Apologize in advance for the long ask and message, but it had been bottling up inside of me for SOOOOOO LONG.

1. In Book 1, when we're to lead the investigation in one of the three directions, is there any way to get success in any direction without Bobby making a big joke out of our investigation in the newspaper?

2. In Book 2, when Nicole and Max Salinas come to report their incident, can Tina actually find out anything unusual? If so, what is actually needed to explain that?

3. In Book 3, I noticed if we choose to go the final mission alone, depending on the route chosen, Boddy/Doug will end up tagging along as well, jeopardizing everything. Is there still a way to complete the mission successfully and rescuing everyone like it happens when we go along with Rebecca?

4. Less of a question, but more of a plea. Please tell me we can get a pet anytime in the series. I was just curious if we can get one.

5. How powerful is the big baddie in Book 4 compared to Unit Bravo? You don't need to answer if this verges on spoiler-y territory.

Really sorry to overwhelm you with this, but it's just months and months of joy, happiness, and sheer ecstasy making me blabber on about this world like this. Thanks once again, for making this truly beautiful story, world, and the vampires a reality.

Have a good day!!!! Lots of love from India!!

You can never play a game you love too many times (I keep telling myself that as I gradually burn a hole into my poor old console playing Dragon Age over and over, lol!)! If it brings you happiness, then that's what is important! :D

Ok, let's see about the questions...it's been a whole since I've gone through the older games without being in editing mode, hehe!

I don't think so...Bobby is, well, Bobby. And that scene was there very much to establish their character and show the player what type of person they are.

I don't think so, again. If there's anything unusual or odd, then I usually like to let the MC find that instead of it happening 'off-screen' so it's more impactful for the player—unless it's Verda discovering stuff, because that needs to happen for…reasons.

Iirc, in the Bobby/Doug routes, you get the auction scene, so a lot of that branch involves focusing on saving yourself! But the other team that joins Unit Bravo will help in saving a lot of the captives in that version.

I would love that being a massive animal companion fan myself, hehe! But likely not, just because the MC is away a lot from home, and that's unfair on the pet, even a fictional one, lol. I was tempted to give the MC a supernatural pet that hung around at the facility—that was definitely a strong idea at one point just so I could write a pet in the series for those that wanted it (me, I was the one who wanted it, hehe!) :D

**BOOK FOUR DEMO SPOILERS AHEAD** It's not just that Book Four's villain is terrifyingly powerful (or will be. They are, thankfully for the MC and UB, in a weakened state for a while due to what's happened to them and what happened in Chapter Two) but it's a lot to do with the fact that their power specifically counteracts and weakens Unit Bravo's. So that's a double whammy!

Thank you SO incredibly much for the amazing message! It means more than you can know <3

[boredmadamoiselle]

You're losing me

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Synopsis: When the 2023 season comes to an end, everything falls down. Including your relationship with Charles.

Warnings: Angst. Charles is a little toxic maybe and an asshole. English isn't my first language, so it probably contains some mistakes. Sorry in advance!

Author's note: Let me know what you think. Your feedback is always appreciated and it is really important for me. If you have any ideas or concepts you want to share and that you want me to write, feel free to send them and I will take into consideration.

How long could we be a sad song 'Til we were too far gone to bring back to life? I gave you all my best me's, my endless empathy And all I did was bleed as I tried to be the bravest soldier Fighting in only your army Frontlines, don't you ignore me I'm the best thing at this party

“And Max Verstappen is a F1 world champion for the third time in a row!”, you heard the speakers saying even if everyone already knew that. 

All attention was on Max and Red Bull but your thoughts were on someone else. Charles.

While Max was celebrating his victory, Charles had lost not only against Red Bull but also against his own teammate. In the end, Carlos had managed to overtake him in the drivers' standings. The same Carlos who had always been one step in front of him for the entire year, who had broken, albeit for just one race, Red Bull's dominance and had dominated during the weekend at Monza, Ferrari’s home race. It was frustrating because he was Il Predestinato, the one who was destined to win and bring Ferrari to success after all those years. But race after race and despite the support of his fans, it seemed to him that it was no longer the case. He didn't even feel the same anymore. He was losing his confidence and was tired to fight when everything and everyone seemed to be against him: his own team, the strategies, the car, his teammate… 

But most of all, Charles was angry. You could barely keep up with him from how fast he was walking. With the helmet still on, he was ignoring everyone, including you and his fans. Something he had never done before. 

Despite his nervousness, he waited for you entering inside his driving room before slamming the door violently. You gasped at it.

You remained silent as you watched him change clothes and you thought about what you could tell him to console him. You didn’t even know if it was a good idea talking to him. What could you tell him in a moment like that to make things better? You knew that whatever you would have said wouldn't have been enough. What could you tell him that you haven’t told him yet? Because it wasn't the first time you found yourself in that situation, that things weren't going well...

You thought back over the past few months. It hadn’t been a good year for him and as a result, your relationship had suffered too. The worse the races went, the more, in fact, he was disappointed and threw himself more into work. When he didn't have to race, he was in Maranello at the factory working on the car and getting ready for the next race. Although you had tried to accompany him whenever you could, you had seen him less and less often. You also didn't feel welcome at the factory as you felt like your presence was bothering him. Scared by that, you had stopped going with him. You know it wasn’t true, that it was only your mind playing tricks on you. Was it?He loved you... you weren’t a burden or a distraction to him – you had repeated to yourself for months. He just needed to focus on his job if he wanted to win. Knowing how much it was important to him, you had put yourself aside and never said anything about it or how you felt. Not even when he didn’t come home for your anniversary because he had to work or when he forgot your birthday. You had remained silent even then, forgiving and justifying him, even though every disappointment and forgetfulness were like a stab in your heart, making you feel less and less important. In the end, it wasn't even worth it.

Although you were sad for Charles, a part of you was happy that the season had finally come to an end and that the winter break was about to start. It was your chance to spend some time together away from everything and everyone. Everything would have gone back to normal, to how it was before. You and Charles would have been fine again. At least it was what you thought… How wrong you were.

As Charles was putting his t-shirt on, you hugged him from behind and rested your chin on his shoulder. Or at least, you tried. He moved your arms off of you and walked away leaving you paralyzed in the middle of the room. You heard him grumble. 

You felt rejected by the man you loved and who told you he loved you. Because in that moment it didn’t seem like that. 

It wasn’t the first time that you felt rejected. The truth was that you hadn’t felt loved by him for months. 

You wanted to cry but you couldn’t. You had cried enough for him. You had lost count of the nights you spent crying before falling asleep. 

“Charles…”, you managed to whisper than to say. 

He turned to look at you. 

“What… what happens?”

He looked at you in disbelief. “What happens? Weren't you out there? Didn't you see what happened? I lost everything! Here what happened!”, he screamed. “I lost the championship, again! I’m not even vice-champion this time and my own teammate beat me. I’ve been driving a tract for the entire year. Isn’t all this enough for you?” 

As you listened to him, you realized how everything was always about him. He was still talking about the damn season he had, the championship, the car, his teammate… when you didn’t give a fuck about them, not anymore. You cared about you. You and Charles. But it didn't seem to be the same for your boyfriend.

He was still complaining about the season when you stopped him. You had enough. “No, I meant why you moved earlier.”

He turned around looking at you in confusion as if he didn’t understand what you were saying. 

“What… what are you talking about? When?” 

You couldn’t believe it. Was he making fun of you? How could he be so oblivious about everything, about you? Weren't you the woman he said he loved?

“Now when I hugged you and you immediately moved away from me as if you couldn’t stand my touch. Why that?”

Charles sighed and you could see how annoyed he was from your affirmation. Too bad for him that you were tired too and you couldn’t stand that situation anymore. It was time for both of you to clarify it. 

“It was nothing. I didn’t even realize it”, he said turning and giving you his back. 

“You see, Charles, this is the problem. You wouldn’t have realized it if I hadn't pointed it out for you. You never realize anything”, you said. 

“What would that mean? I already said that it was nothing. You're overreacting, Y/N!”

As your patience had reached its limit, you ended bursting out. 

“It was something, Charles! It meant for me. But apparently you simply don’t care enough about me and also about us if you don’t realize how much you’re hurting me, or I should say how I much you had hurt me in the last months”, you yelled at him while your eyes started filling with tears. 

Your words caught him off guard and put him in difficulty. He turned around to face you. 

“I’m sorry, okay? I didn't do it on purpose. I just have a lot of things on my mind right now. This year sucked…” 

You didn’t give him the time to finish. 

“Stop, Charles! I’ve had enough. Yeah, this season, the car, the team, everything sucked. I know that very well and do you know why? Because I’ve been by your side the whole time supporting and consoling you when everyone and everything seemed to be against you. And despite all this, you managed to make me feel like I wasn’t welcome. The least you could do is not push me away.” With every word you raised your voice more and more, not caring who could hear you from outside. 

“I never asked you to do all those things.”

You looked at him in disbelief. You quickly wiped away a tear that was falling down your cheek. He didn't deserve to see you crying. He didn't deserve you tears anymore.

You wondered yourself who was the person in front of you because that wasn’t the same Charles you knew and loved. There was a completely stranger in front of you as you didn't recognize him anymore.

“Yes, you didn’t but I did it anyway and I don’t regret it, Charles. I'd do it all again because I love you. But…” 

The thought had been tormenting you for months. You had kept pushing it away, trying not to listen to it but it came back stronger every time. You didn't want to believe it was true because it would mean the end of you and Charles. But maybe your relationship had been over a long time ago and you were just postponing the inevitable. 

“But it looks like my love isn’t enough anymore or maybe… maybe you don’t love me anymore, I don’t know. But I know for sure that in the last year you’ve loved your job, the championship and everything else more than me and don't try to deny it because you proved it several times, Charles. And I’m sorry but I'm tired of trying to make this relationship work when it seems I’m the only one who cares about it. I can’t keep fighting for both of us”, you said as you started collecting your things around the room, even the pieces of your broken heart. You wanted to leave that place and everything behind you as soon as possible. You were about to burst into tears. 

“Wait. What are you doing?”, he asked as he realized what you were about to do. 

“Leaving”, you simply said avoiding looking him in the face. You were afraid of the effect it might have on you. 

“What do you mean? The room or… me?” 

Good question. You didn't know it either. 

“I… don’t know. Maybe both, but for now the room for sure. I need some fresh air and... some time.” 

You collected your last things.

You had reached the door when his words stopped you. 

“So is it like this? Just because I've been absent recently or because I didn't win, you break up with me? You know I was working all the time, right?” 

You turned around to face him. All the sadness from earlier had been replaced by anger. You approached him reducing the distance between you. How could he think so low of you?

“Don’t you dare, Charles! I don't care if you're the champion of the world or not. I've always loved and wanted you despite that. And yes, I know you have been working all this time. You know why? Because that's all you've done this year: work, work and again work. If we've reached this point, it's… Do you know what? Nevermind. It’s just a waste of time and I've already wasted it enough. And so did you. I assume you have some work to do or am I wrong?” 

Maybe you had exaggerated with your words but you didn't care at all. You were hurt and angry.

Charles said nothing as you stood looking at each other. 

You weren't sure what you were hoping for. But anything would have been better than that deafening silence that was slowly killing you inside. It felt like the world was ending. For sure something was certainly over between you and Charles. But was it the end for you and him? Or there was still hope?

Your hand was on the doorknob, ready to leave when you turned to Charles. You wanted to see him one last time, to remember the Charles you loved but all you saw was a stranger. 

“You know what, Charles? You were right in the end. You’ve lost everything, including me, us. Good work, Charles.”

And with those last words you left the room and Charles. 

You exited the garage and walked quickly across the paddock hoping no one would have stopped or seen you. 

As you were keeping your head down, you didn't see that Joris was coming in the opposite direction and you collided with him.

"Oh, Joris... I'm sorry, I didn't see you...", you told him.

"Hey, Y/n. Is it everything ok? Where are you going?"

You were avoiding his gaze. If you would have looked at him in the eyes, you wouldn't have been able to hold back the tears anymore. "Away, Joris. I need to go", you whispered as your eyes started to fill with tears again.

"Wait, where? What happened?"

You quickly looked at him before hugging him.

"Nothing, don't worry. Take care of him for me, Joris."

You quickly kissed his cheek and left him there confused as he watched you walking away.

Stop, you're losin' me Stop, you're losin' me Stop, you're losin' me I can't find a pulse My heart won't start anymore For you 'Cause you're losin' me

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

[xjulixred45x]

Can i ask a last request for now? About mark grayson with a yui komori like s/o,i just want the fluff and yui with a nice and protective boyfriend

YEEEEES

Mark Grayson/Invincible x Yui Komori! Reader

Genre: Headcanons

Reader: female

Warnings: PTSD, TRAUMA, REFERENCES TO ABUSE OF SEVERAL KINDS! Reader is in for a BAD ride... Reader is very kindhearted and soft, religion themes, Angst-comfort, fluff.

Starting with the basics, I think this reader could have a mixed origin with Eve's and Yui's all in one...

Let's say that Reader was born precisely artificially in order to be the vessel of certain types of healing powers and advance the science of medicine. giving her the ability to have healing blood from a young age.

which at first doesn't sound bad.

However, as she grows up (under the tutelage of an agent of said organization who created her under the guise of a priest), the reader begins to be exposed to a less... pleasant environment.

First of all, Reader was raised according to the facade of her father, a person of religion, which made her a very believer, with high hopes in every aspect.

This would help her better face the nightmare that was coming.

When the reader was fully developed, it was time to put another aspect of her healing abilities into practice.

which was, hurt her as much as possible to see her recovery and how her powers acted accordingly.

It definitely wasn't pleasant...

reader was beaten, tortured, stretched, cut, to say a few things...

Although reader healed incredibly quickly, it didn't mean that this would be painless or easier for the next time she was hurt, it just prepared her mentally...

There were people who only did their job during all of this, there were people who were stubborn when it came to making her suffer...

But the reader did not want to lose hope of being able to get rid of everyone.

Maybe she didn't have a power to help herself get out by force, but at least she could survive long enough...

so that? She really didn't know...

NOW, here things are divided and how the reader was able to meet Mark.

The first scenario (obvious) is that it was Mark as Invincible who saved the reader from the people who were experimenting on her.

and the second, Mark and reader already know each other when reader escaped on her own and helps Cecil heal the heroes under his command.

Let's go more for the first.

Definitely at first Mark thought it would be a simpler operation, go in, break whatever these people were creating that was dangerous, and come back before lunch.

That didn't happen.

First of all, he ended up running into a strange man (Mr. Komori? something like that?) who seemed to be doing the same thing as him and almost shot him in the face. which wouldn't have killed him but OUCH.

Taking advantage of the fact that he was on his side, Mr. Komori wasted no time and asked Mark for help, as his daughter was trapped on the ground floor, she needed HELP.

and look, Mark may be skeptic about these things since Titan, but this man looked DESPERATE and had definitely, uh, killed quite a few guards to get to the ground floor. it seemed beridic

So, Mark decided to take the bet.

(You can bet it was one of the best decisions of his life).

even if he didn't feel that way at the time, because FRIEND, when Mark went downstairs with this man and saw what he saw, it made him want to vomit.

record and records of TORTURE, papers that detailed everything, chemicals made from the "collected material", etc.

It definitely has the same vibe as Vincent's lab, if you know what I mean.

Although at least Mark had the consolation that this time he managed to do something in time.

He escorted Mr. Komori and reader out of the building (yep, he carried them both. Mr. Komori kept complaining about how uncomfortable it was. Reader was just grateful to leave that place and saying thank You non stop).

That caught Mark's attention.

Despite being in an UNDERSTANDINGLY stressful and traumatic situation, the reader seemed too... calm. even overflowing.

Although he simply shook the thought from his head and took them both to the pentagon to be examined (especially reader...)

Meanwhile, reader couldn't be happier! What she expected really came true, her father (and a hero!) came to save her!

reader KNEW she shouldn't lose hope, she was so happy.

From here we start with Mark's interactions with the reader.

After that awkward beginning, Mark will probably end up bumping into the reader a lot because she is interned indefinitely for a long time in the Pentagon, while he ends up there because of his constant beatings lol.

At least the reader makes him feel better about it with a lot of optimism and positivity.

Mark would be lying if he said that at first he understood her, the truth is he didn't. at first.

especially not HER as a whole.

HOW CAN SOMEONE WHO WENT THROUGH THE HELL ITSELF STILL BE SO VIVID AND CHEERFUL?? HAVE SO MUCH HOPE?

a part of him thought it was a trap lol

But as the trips to the hospital and the conversations went by, Mark realized that, genuinely, the reader speaks sincerely.

There was no double intent in her words, just trying to cheer him up (and definitely afterward he feels bad for assuming she was some kind of psychopath lol).

Reader probably ends up being Mark's main supporter in his beginnings as a hero, which is very endearing, partly he doesn't think he deserves it (with how much he gets hit/makes mistakes) but Reader always says the same thing.

He is HER hero first of all.

(shot straight to the heart)

after a while, Mark may go to see reader directly at the hospital/pentagon just so he can talk to her, at first with some excuse (like some villain, getting a second opinion, advice?) but eventually he just started showing up in her hospital room without prior notice just to chat.

and SOME LOOOOOONG talks.

Mark definitely learns to appreciate the reader's positivity more as the story progresses, he WISHES he had a quarter of all of that...

He would definitely go HELLBENT if Cecil wanted to use the findings made by the mad scientists who originally had the readership for the Pentagon.

DUDE????WHAT THE FUCK???

especially if he's are already in a relationship with the reader at this point (they are).

although he wouldn't react any better if I knew that Cecil probably wants to use reader blood samples to improve the performance of the pentagon heroes :)

DO YOU KNOW THE COMIC INVINCIBLE VS CECIL? YES, THAT HAPPENS HERE.

It is one thing to use all the knowledge that HORRIBLE people got from reading through TORTURE (VERY BAD) and another VERY DIFFERENT thing is to MANIPULATE the VICTIM of said torture so that they WORK for you instead of their abusers:)

Reader definitely wouldn't want to see Cecil for a long time.

Going all in with the relationship, as you can see, Mark doesn't play around when it comes to reader.

protective boyfriend

He doesn't care that the reader cannot technically die easily or that she can regenerate in an exaggerated way, HE IS NOT ALLOWING THAT.

Mark would definitely enjoy being a total cuddler with the reader, they both are, but Mark is touch-starved to an almost ridiculous level.

lots of hugs (plus if the reader is shorter than Mark)

The reader probably doesn't want anything to do with the world of superheroes after everything that happened to her, and Mark is fine with that, but I don't think he's against things like medicine or the like.

IMAGINE THE READER AS A DOCTOR AAAAAWWWWWWW

Even if Mark is the most obviously protective, don't doubt that reader could kick your ass (maybe) if she could. or at least give Mark a way to do so.

I like to think that while the reader hates drawing blood, she would definitely draw a lot if Mark is in a critical situation.

In turn, Mark always makes it his first priority to protect the reader from imminent dangers.

MARK LETTING THE READER PLAY WITH HIS HAIR I CAN'T-

Mark definitely likes seeing Reader playing with Oliver when he's still a baby, it's too cute (maybe he likes to imagine what Reader would be like with his own son? What?)

Going out to fly is especially nice with these two, the reader doesn't talk much when they do it, but it's because she is so amazed by the sky that Mark often doesn't hold back and squeezes her face.

That too, Mark can, should, and will squeeze the reader's cheeks, he can't help it.

It's that or bite his face (ouch).

proud boyfriend who uses any gift his girlfriend gives him, no matter how "girly" it is (like a pink coat).

Did you see that Yui can play the piano in the games? probably a reader too! and she's definitely pretty good at it, Mark got used to the piano pieces around the house pretty quickly (he even hums them lol).

WEY WHEN READER ENCOURAGES HIM WITH Hus INTEREST IN COMICS THE MAN DOESN'T KNOW WHETHER TO LAUGH OR CRY SOMEONE GIVE HIM A HUG--

Needless to say, but if any of the scientists who harmed the reader are still around...they won't be doing it for much longer...

Debbie wants a daughter-in-law, I won't say more.

HE LOVES carrying the reader like a princess, she's just so cute and friendly and little and he wants to take care of her and🥺

Overall, they are a very adorable pair, while they might have some struggles between civilian and heroic life, Reader definitely has the mental dexterity to be able to live with that and make the relationship work.

reader is the strongest person Mark has ever met:3

Shares, reblogs and comments are very welcome!

[cottonlemonade]

Can I take menu 2 with strawberry milk and mocha and sit next to Kenma? thank you!!

When He Is Jealous

word count: 782 || avg. reading time: 3 mins.

pairing: Kenma x chubby!Reader

genre: fluff

warnings: none

request: fluffy, jealous boyfriend Kenma, as manager

Kenma knew his best friend liked to mess with people. He knew how much he enjoyed teasing and while Kenma himself was only good for some seriously soul crushing one-liners, Kuroo found a good match for bantering in you.

The setter liked half listening to you two going back and forth as you handed out the water bottles during a practice break, while he himself was glued to a screen of some gaming console he brought to school that day.

Every once in a while he would look up to see you smile at him and if he was lucky you’d give him a quick kiss before the next round of his game started.

But Kenma didn’t appreciate it when his friend took it too far.

The captain was currently doubled over with hyena-like laughter at some quip you threw his way, which admittedly, was very funny and Kenma grinned along until Kuroo turned to him and said, “You better watch out or I’m gonna take her from you.” then blew you a kiss with a wink and went back onto the court.

In his heart he knew Kuroo would never ever dare to make advances towards you but … he also knew that in comparison to his charismatic friend he wouldn’t stand a chance to keep you. If Kuroo really put his mind to it - or even just slightly tried - he could steal you, no problem, Kenma thought. Don’t be ridiculous, he told himself the next minute as he halfheartedly tossed a ball for Tora.

He looked over to you and you gave him a happy smile with a small wave.

There was nothing to worry about, he reminded himself. He’d take you to his house after school and he’d put his head in your lap, torn between cuddling against your plush thighs or soft tummy. And while he defeated the latest final boss in a game, you’d play with his hair and later he’d walk you home and kiss you goodnight for an absurd amount of time and you’d do that again the next day. All perfect. But then he glanced across the net to Kuroo and saw him wave to you as well and you returning it just as brightly. Kenma froze and the next ball Tora lopped his way bonked him on the head.

The ace laughed but when Kenma didn’t react at all he stepped closer.

“Hey, what’s up with you?”

Kenma ignored him and watched as you mockingly applauded a failed practice spike from Kuroo to which he replied with an equally unserious bow.

You caught your boyfriend’s eye and smiled again, but when he didn’t return it you mouthed “you okay?”.

Kenma nodded and snapped out of it, turning back to Tora to continue.

The rest of practice was just as sloppy for Kenma as it started. Coach Naoi marked it as an off day for him and told him to get some fresh air and rest, it would go better next time.

As the team filed out of the gym towards the changing rooms Kuroo turned to you and Kenma, “Wanna grab something from the convenience store on the way home?”

“Sure!”, you said immediately but stopped in your tracks when you felt a little tug.

Kenma had fallen a step behind and grabbed the hem of your red team jacket.

You turned in surprise. He didn’t look at you, just held tightly onto the fabric.

“Don’t go.”, he said to your shoes.

“Oh. Okay - you go ahead, Kuroo. We’ll take the scenic route today.”

Kuroo regarded his best friend with a thoughtful look, then nodded and grinned in that annoyingly knowing way of his.

“Sure thing, see you tomorrow!”

Once the team was out of earshot you took Kenma’s hand into yours.

“What’s going on, babe?” Your tone was sweet and casual and Kenma felt increasingly childish.

“Do you like Kuroo?”

“Hm? Of course I do.”

“I mean, do you like him more … than me?”

“What?!” Your reply came out way louder than intended and you apologized before repeating the question in a more suitable indoor voice.

“It’s just that you guys seem to get along so well, which is great, I guess, but -“

“Ken, are you jealous?”, you asked incredulously and couldn’t stop your lips from pursing in amusement.

“Tch, no.”, he scoffed lamely.

“You so are.”, you grinned.

“Am not!”, he insisted.

You kissed his pouty lips and he hmphed. You kissed him again. And again. Then peppered his face with kisses until he laughed and pushed you away.

“Okay okay! I know it was dumb.”

“Good! As long as you know that no one would stand a chance against you.”

a/n: thank you so much for the request! 🌟 I love writing for Kenma! I’m sorry it took so long, I may or may not have waited with this until after the movie so I’d have him fresh on my mind 😅 I hope you enjoyed it!

This is also officially the last of the requests for this event! Thank you again to everyone who participated, commented, liked and reblogged! I hope you had as much fun as I did! 🫶🏻

[xxlady-lunaxx]

Hi:3 I’ve come to request InoTanZen going to the shopping district! But Zenitsu gets very scared as that’s his home town, which possibly results in an anxiety attack? And InoTan comfort him the best they can due to their circumstances, and they buy him some type of fancy clothing as a treat! (Based on my hc of Zenitsu preferring to wear women kimonos as they fit him better lol) It’s okay if not, thank you in advance if you do:D

OF COURSE! <3 sorry its so short/seems rushed 😭 also love that hc

tw not very detailed but still anxiety attack ?

After getting some time off from their missions because they weren’t quite in position to fight yet, Inosuke, Tanjiro, and Zenitsu made their way to a shopping district. It was Tanjiro and Inosuke’s first time since neither had grown up in cities and, because of that, Zenitsu had decided to take them to his home town. Mostly because he was most familiar with it and it hadn’t occurred to him until it was too late that it might not actually be to his advantage. It wasn’t until they had actually stepped inside, maneuvering through the streets and trying to prevent Inosuke from head butting anyone that Zenitsu began to panic.

He said nothing at first, trying to ignore the memories he’d dredged up simply from the familiar sound of the city. Somehow, it was still the same as before. Unchanging despite his own drastic transformation from his younger self. Which only served to constrict his heart, making it harder to breathe. But he told himself he was just being tense, that he just had to take a breath and he’d be fine. So he continued walking, avoiding Tanjiro’s questioning gaze as he redirected them to the food center where he knew Inosuke would love. He was keeping up just fine, Zenitsu told himself. He was going to be fine. He was just surprised at the bombardment of emotions that had hit him with entering his hometown.

He was cruelly proven wrong when, while telling Inosuke to not put the boar head back on, all that came out was a shaky croak. Inosuke seemed unbothered but it instantly skyrocketed Tanjiro’s concern and he went full on worry mode, turning to Zenitsu and asking if he was alright. Somehow, that broke Zenitsu, and he found himself shaking his head unconsciously, cheeks hot with the tears that burned his eyes. He didn’t want to cry, he didn’t want to be like this in front of them. Yet the salty tracks made their appearance only a moment later, clearly enjoying embarrassing Zenitsu.

It was at the silent tears that Inosuke snapped to attention, frowning and huffing about something incoherent. Although, everything seemed like a blur. It felt like all the sound around Zenitsu had become amplified and blurred at the same time, pounding against his head as a heavy reminder of his constant failures here.

Tanjiro hustled Zenitsu to a bench, sitting him down and dragging Inosuke over. He sat next to him, rubbing circles on his back and murmuring to him, trying to console him. He seemed a bit confused, still piecing things together from what little Zenitsu had told them prior the trip. He pulled him into a hug as Inosuke shouted at whoever began staring at them. Vaguely, Zenitsu registered Tanjiro asking if there was anything he could do. He shook his head, pathetically, trying to rub the tears away, only resulting in making room for more. Shaky breaths and hiccups followed quickly after, until even Inosuke was trying to make him feel better by offering his boar mask.

Even so, it took a while before Zenitsu managed a watery smile at the offer, taking the mask just to make Inosuke stop pouting at his lack of response before apologizing quietly for inconveniencing them. In response, Tanjiro promised that they would go to wherever Zenitsu most wanted to go here then finding somewhere else to get food so they could pacify Inosuke. Zenitsu’s protests were silenced by Inosuke’s quick tug towards a clothing part of the district, pointing and loudly announcing that there were some of the clothes Zenitsu liked wearing there.

Tanjiro was still laughing about Inosuke’s contagious enthusiasm when they got to the stall, Zenitsu cowering behind them and trying to make himself look less like he’d just been crying. It became easier when Inosuke offered to buy Zenitsu something, only to realize that he had no money and that Tanjiro and Zenitsu were the ones with the money. He looked very sullen at that, taking back his boar mask and sulking as Tanjiro and Zenitsu went through some of the kimonos, picking out some to buy—some for Zenitsu and some for Nezuko.

After they had bought what they wanted, Inosuke led the way to the food stalls, eyeing the ground for any lost money he might be able to use to buy something, but finding absolutely nothing in the end. Food cheered him up quickly, however, and the instant mood change brought a smile to Zenitsu’s face—much to Tanjiro’s relief. They spent the rest of the day wandering aimlessly through the streets, avoiding the places that Zenitsu told them he wished to not go to. They arrived back at the Butterfly Estate in the late evening with only Zenitsu’s slightly puffy eyes as any proof of his earlier anxiety.

[pinkslipxox]

We Can Do This

Summary: Miko leaves for tour

Warnings: little bit of fluff, mostly angst 😔

——————————————————————————

“Do you have to go?” you whine softly, tears swelling up in your eyes.

It’s the day— well, morning in this case— that you and Miko have both been dreading. Miko is set to start her American leg of tour tomorrow. You’ve never expected for the day to come so quickly. And you’re not ready to see her go yet. Last night the both of you went to bed with heaviness in your hearts, knowing that it’ll be the last time you’ll be seeing each other face-to-face for a while.

Miko sighs softly, coming around to the bed, and she sits down. It’s just as hard for her as it is for you. She half-hoped that you’d still be asleep when she left, so she wouldn’t have to see your sad face. Yet at the same time she couldn’t bear to leave you without so much as a goodbye.

“I’ll be back before you know it,” she consoles, yet she sounds like she’s saying it to herself too. “And I’ll make sure to fly you out to be with me as soon as possible.”

You nod, not trusting your voice.

A tear rolls down your cheek and you look away but Miko is quick to notice it. She gently turns your cheek and she brushes his thumb across the skin before cupping the other side of your face with her other hand. She then presses her lips on yours and you instantly melt into the kiss. The kiss is gentle yet passionate and it makes your heart ache, knowing that this is your last kiss for a while.

“Te amo mucho, Y/N,” Miko murmurs softly, her forehead against yours.

“Yo a ti más, María Victoria,” you whisper back, your voice quivering a bit.

“We can do this, mi amor,” Miko assures, stealing another kiss.

“Cuddle me until the car comes?” you ask and Miko instantly nods.

You scoot over a bit so Miko could lay down and you rest your head on top of chest, right where her heart is. Miko wraps one of her arms around you tightly and cradles the back of your head with her other hand. You close your eyes and try to relax. You soak up Miko’s warmth and scent, and you are fighting to keep yourself from dowsing off. The last thing you want is to fall asleep.

The sound of Miko’s phone going off breaks the silence and you let out a sob, holding onto your girlfriend even tighter.

“Ay, mi amor,” Miko coos softly, pressing kisses on your head. “Please don’t cry.”

“I’m sorry, Vicky,” you sniffle and Miko sits up, rubbing comforting circles on your back. “I— I just…”

“I know, mami, I know… me too,” Miko murmurs, kissing your head again. “I love you so much. And I can’t thank you enough for being with me, despite everything.”

“I’ll be waiting for you,” you say softly as you reluctantly untangle yourself from your girlfriend.

“Would you like to walk with me to the car?” Miko offers and you quickly nod your head, getting out of bed.

Miko takes out her backpack from the closet and puts it on before taking your hand in her, leading you out of your bedroom. The rest of Miko’s luggage has been taken care of in advance. You helped her pack weeks beforehand and watched her go over the list she’s written out just hours ago. And now she’s going to leave for tour and you can’t manage to wrap your head around it.

The car is outside the house and a fresh new set of tears begin to swell in your eyes again. Miko signals for the driver wait and turns back to you, and with the nearby light shining from the streetlight, you can see Miko’s glossy eyes. She bites her lip and takes you in her arms again, burying her face into your shoulder. You wrap your arms around her neck again, and its until then Miko lets go of her emotions. She cries softly in your shoulder, and hot tears begin to stream down your face.

“We can do this,” you softly repeat her phrase from earlier after you both pull away after a few moments.

Miko nods, which starts out slow but grows confident. She sweetly kisses your lips and then your forehead, letting them linger there for a moment.

“We can do this,” she affirms, squeezing your hands.

And she’s gone.

[astrialuvs]

Headcanons for Akabane Karma as Himself | as a Friend | as a Lover

➻ PAIRING : akabane karma x reader

➻ CONTENT WARNING : my headcanons to these red-haired boy 😗🫶 pt. 2

➻ WORD COUNT : 1119 words

a/n: i'm sorry for the late upload (hehe). idrk when will i post the last..

another a/n: i might uplaod my hcs for gakushuu too (idk when)  😅

He boinks a book at you when he notices you dozing off, even though you invited him for a review at the library.

It was expected that his presence at a study session you had organized would boost your motivation to review more. However, the sheer boredom of you—the library and staleness, with lamps flickering in—created by such a dull background was working against you. However, as you focused on your notes, fatigue set in, and your eyelids began to droop.

On the other side of the table, Karma was partially immersed in his world, playing video games on his phone. He watched you fight against the advancing wave of sleep without your knowledge. His mind, however, was unconventional and quick to find new approaches even in silence, so he selected some method of making you stay awake.

Karma smiled slyly as he picked up a nearby book and figured out its direction before throwing it at you. The book hit softly against your head with a ‘boink.’ The shock hit you suddenly, and you glared at him aggressively.

"Karma, really?" you cried out, massaging the area of your head where the book hit.

He stared at you innocently, as if amazed. He quipped, "Hey! You were drifting off. Just doing my part to keep you alert and focused." His reply made you scoffed.

The unexpected wake-up call worked. The interruption caused by Karma had effectively broken down your sleepiness, which was looming large over you. Even if his approach was a little absurd, your lips curled slightly as you realized that, despite the circumstances, Karma had managed to maintain punctuality and spontaneous stimulation throughout the study.

Who's your rival in academics, sports, or video games, but expect a healthy dose of rivalry.

Under the dim light of Karma's gaming console screen, you and Karma were fighting in a video game. The room was alive with the rhythm of powerful blasts from controllers and the overdrive sound of your playful outcasts.

When the unreal battle appeared on screen, Karma couldn't help but smile knowingly. He teased, "Are you prepared to go down this round?" He touched the control with his fingers.

You countered with a confident smile. "I suppose we will find out. I hope you've been reviewing what you've learned, Karma."

The taunting was competitive, with each of you attempting to manipulate and navigate around the other in the video game. Laughter and occasional shouts of victory or defeat filled the room.

Despite intense competition, you and Karma maintained a tacit understanding. Each of you was respectful of the other's gaming abilities, which elevated the game beyond mere contention. Each action received either a respectful agreement or a quick-witted look, as if to emphasize the importance of jest in this competitive environment where fun was the ultimate goal.

Throughout the game, however, Karma managed to gain a foothold on you in a spectacular manner. He declared triumphantly, "Guess I won this time."

"Very good Karma. But the night is just beginning, and you still have a long way to go towards victory."

Whom you two have your own language and gestures, such as all-knowing smirks and eye signals.

You and Karma were always caught in an unusual act of communication while inside a gathering. A conversation, laughter, and the clinking of glasses filled the room, but the two of you conversed silently.

At that point, a mutual wink or fugitive eye signal was sufficient, as was your own secret code that went beyond written language. Those who were preoccupied with other people's conversations were unaware of the silent little communicative move that occurred between you and Karma, during which a sense of trust and unity developed.

Karma suddenly poured an all-knowing smirk on your face as you two shared that moment when nothing was said and no words were required. This was a language born out of shared experiences, inside jokes, and an unwritten oath that would grow stronger over time.

Whether it was a response to the ongoing conversation, a lighthearted joke, or simply two people having fun together, the smiles and eye movements were enough. It became a testament to your friendship, like a secret code known only to the two of you.

Who flicks your forehead at very random moments, whether at a serious moment, when you are spaced out, or eating.

Sitting in the library among rows of textbooks, which you shared with Karma during serious discussions about upcoming exams. He raised his brow with a mischievous look in his eyes, taking advantage of the opportunity while you were deep in conversation with him.

He suddenly warned you, "Watch out!" before flicking your forehead in an unexpected but friendly gesture.

You blinked in surprise and laughed. "Karma? Come on. I'm trying to concentrate here!"

"Absolutely! Distraction helps keep the mind alert and focused.

* * *

The following week, during a quiet moment in the school courtyard, Karma appeared beside you.

He quipped jokingly, "More deep thinking?" and hit you again on the forehead to emphasize his point.

You smiled childishly and shot at him. "Am I not allowed to get away from your forehead flicks?"

"What's the big deal about that?" he inquired, an enticing smile forming in his eyes.

* * *

With a flick, Karma took advantage of even the most casual lunch you two had together in your school cafeteria, for example, when you were about to bite on your sandwich.

"Karma!" You cried, partly laughing and partly protesting.

"Can't get away from that, it turns normal circumstances into extraordinary ones!"

As a result, Karma's forehead flicks have become an integral part of your daily conversations. These playful actions, whether trying to be serious or comical in nature, made your friendship have good moments between laughs and joy as if knitted on quicksilver.

Whom you share your "teas" and gossips with.

You and Karma were seated in a quiet nook of the local cafe, enjoying gentle conversation while smelling freshly brewed coffee and hearing distant murmurs. In that safe space, the "teas" and gossip flowed freely like threads woven for people's sheer amusement and trust.

How remarkable was it that, facing each other, you leaned forward, eager to share current events, even if they were scandalous. Karma began this exchange with a wink of the eye and in secret, initially sublimating it into a joke.

"All right, it's tea time. What is the most juicy detail about the incriminating rumor you have?"

As a result, the conversation became filled with laughter and animated faces. You would occasionally make comical observations about your classmates, teachers, and other characters in your lives.The teas shared were an entertaining mix of witty retorts, secrets offered and whispered, and bantered conspiracies.

[penvisions]

return the favor {chapter 24}

Pairing: Post-Outbreak! Joel Miller X Smuggler! Reader

Summary: The aftemath of Silverlake has Ellie contemplating the direction of where she wants to go, what she wants to do with her life. All you and Joel can do if offer your experiences and help her navigate the decision.

Word Count: 4.9k

Warnings: canon typical violence, canon typical language, cursing, insult, allusions to non con sexual advances, blood, take of injuries, talk of trauma, allusions to cannibalism, end of the world politics, end of the world rhetoric, allusions to pedophilia and grooming (bc of david), please let me know if i missed any!

A/N: this fic is coming to a close! i want to say there will be two more chapters and an epilogue. one more of the plain plot from the show and then a little bit beyond that, i just wanted to thank everyone who has been so kind and patient with me regarding updates, life's been a lot lately with so many different moving parts. but things are calming down and i am so grateful for everything ♡

ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist || ko-fi

It’s fucking cold.

The trek to safety is fucking long.

Emotions are running fucking haywire.

When they aren’t numb completely. Ellie has officially shut down, none the wiser of the world and what your little trio is facing. Her young mind rapidly working to process what exactly had happened, and while you could only infer based on your own interactions from the man, it wasn’t good. The only consolation is that when you had cradled her face in your hands, eyes searching her own for the answer on the top of your tongue.

‘The wind picks up, sending flurries of powdery snow into the air before it can settle and stick to the ground. Joel is holding his shoulder tight, rifle slung over the other, head on as swivel as you land on your knees in front of the distraught girl. She’s covered in blood, her nose broken, her hair half out of the band holding it back. Her breathing is still harsh, stuttering, her chest rising and falling as she tries to catch it.

Her hands are shaking as she reaches up to hold to yours, her fingers clutching tightly around yours where she manages to get a grip.

”Ellie, please. Tell me, baby, did he-?”

“N-no, he- he tried but…” Her eyes don’t leave yours, not even when you feel Joel move closer and cups your shoulder. A silent plea, a connection, an understanding that this was vital, this would determine what you do next.

“I’m so sorry, baby, it’s….it’s not okay, but it will be, I promise you.” She surged forward, the force of it knocking Joel’s oversized jacket from where it had been placed over her shoulders. She clings to you, small hiccups turning into little whimpers as you feel her bottom lip tremble against your neck. You try your best to hold all of her, her frame nearly as tall as your own. You murmur assurances, trying your best to blink back tears of your own. From the depravity of the situation, the frustration, the anger, the sheer desperation you had felt and only imagined what she had.’

“Joel…” You can’t help the feeling of trepidation that fills your chest, makes your breathing a touch too fast, gray edging at the corners of your eyes. He either can’t hear you or you didn’t speak aloud in the first place, but his broad shoulders continue to move in a steady rhythm of his steps as he leads the way through the snow that’s built up far too much for comfort. The storm picking up from a gentle dusting of snow to whipping, howling winds that pelt down hail and heavy drifts of snow. Ellie is between you both, her small frame huddled in on itself, she was beginning to stagger as well. “Joel, we have to stop.”

“I’m lookin’, but I don’t….I don’t see anywhere safe enough for us.” He turns a bit, to let you know he’s heard you. His broad shoulders the only thing you can see just up ahead. Everything else is a blur of white. Ellie barely visible in between you both, her body covered in layers, Joel’s jacket still over her small shoulders. She’s been…somewhere else. Mind still reeling, still in shock despite the hours that have passed since leaving that wretched town behind.

“Joel, please, I can’t- I can’t walk any further. We all need tending to. Actual tending to, someplace to lay down.”

“I know, darlin’, I’m tryin’.” He doesn’t sound upset or exasperated; he’s agreeing. He’s nearly pleading with you with his deep brown eyes when he looks at you over his shoulder. He wants you to see that he’s doing his best. He knows you know, but he wants you to see, that he’s been changed in the little time you were apart. He hadn’t…he had wanted for you to stay safe. Away from him seemed the best bet for that, he mulls over in his mind. He had been mistaken. He needed you, he needed Ellie. He needed the support he had found with you both and cultivated over your travels. He…wasn’t weaker without you but he wasn’t himself.

That first night, he guided you both through the snow-covered landscape, through the whipping winds and the biting cold. Until his legs ached and his lungs burned, body exhausted now that his adrenaline had waned away to nothing. Leaving him spent.

It was nearly a week before Ellie realized that the direction you chose to go was in the general direction of back up north toward Jackson. That it was decidedly not further into the desolate wasteland of the open country. She’s recognizing things or beginning to be aware enough to compare the things around her to the things she’s seen so far.

The first thing you do when finding safety that night was tend to everyone. Clean them of the blood that stained more than just their skin. More than just your skin.

“Joel…this, this looks good, all things considering.” You sigh in relief, the way he curls in on himself in a he stands at attention at one end of small clearing. He had guided you deep into the woods, hoping for coverage, hoping for the distance to be enough even if it felt like thousands of miles never would be. You had urged him to sit down with his back to a tree, peeling away the flannel from his skin to peer at the cut you had landed on him beneath. It was scabbed over, a touch too deep for your liking. You could see evidence of irritation of inflammation and where it reopened every so often with a pull to his shoulder.

“My stomach, Ellie did her best but-“

“She told me.” You whispered, fingers trailing down his front and feeling the muscles of his chest and stomach jump at the featherlight pressure. The heat and weight of his gaze was palpable as you unbuttoned a couple of the rungs at the bottom, lifting it up enough to see the puckered skin and haphazard stitching. You could see the thread, soaked with his blood and dried up now. It was puffy, a little swollen but most likely from exertion and friction, not from anything serious.

“She did a good job with what she had. But…honestly, I’d like to redo the stitches with wire. Just to be safe.” Eyes searching his own, you look up at him from where your leaned over low. His brown eyes dark as the only light that really shines down from the stars is faint. The flashlight you had aimed at him not reaching past his chest where it laid on the ground.

“Tomorrow.” He whispers, voice soft. His hands move from his sides to hold yours, his shirt falling back into place. He holds them gently, giving you the space to pull away should you want to, feel the need to…

“I’m okay.” You whisper, face softening as you see the silent question in his eyes. His gaze drops from your face and rakes down your body, the blood still staining your clothing and the rips in your jeans. It had been too much, to see you both covered in blood and feral. Survival instincts flared and on high alert, driving you through the moments he had finally caught up and found you. But he had been too late. Too slow. Again.

“Hey, I’m okay.” You repeat a in a firmer tone, even as his fingers twitched around yours.

"Your beautiful hair." He brings a hand up to skim it down the uneven waves. It's completely frizzed out and lackluster from the elements, from stress, from the jarring cut. He's trying to swallow down the lump in his throat, you can see it bob as he does so, his words going with it.

"It'll grow back, it's just hair." Your smile is wan, your own feelings on it too much to delve into.

“Need you to be okay, need you both to be okay.” Is his ragged exhale as you lean in and press your forehead to his. Cold skin to cold skin, sharing warmth in the late hour. You’re both too wound up to sleep, but you sit in a comfortable silence until the first light graces a new day.

“Bean?”

“Yes, lil gremlin?”

“Can…can I-“ Her eyes dart to Joel, the way his hands are busy stoking the small fire. Trying to revive it in the early hours of the morning. It was quiet, even if no one had been able to sleep for much longer than a few hours. There was evidence of Joel having gone out on a patrol around the building, a dilapidated visitor center for a state park somewhere in Colorado. Mountains loomed to the west, nothing to the north, white blinding in every direction even as it seemed to begin to wane. A storm finally calming.

A place of shelter finally found the night before, two weeks since all three of you had been reunited.

She was still a little nervous using her voice. The only regular instances of hearing it was in the small cries she let out in the middle of the night, when sleep claimed her and memories reared their ugly heads.

“What is it?”

“I don’t, um…” She stutters, eyes downcast as she looks at her worn shoes. It was time to search for new ones, something you hoped you could replicate for her. The favored red chucks she had from the first moment you met her a part of her and probably a comfort at this point were holding on but barely. Her voice lowers, something in her tone spikes your anxiety and you’re standing quickly. The movement catches Joel’s attention and he does too, by the fireplace. Eyes sharp and focused he could only watch as Ellie regarded her shoes, unwilling to look up or further explain.

Sighing, she finally glanced up at you. Her eyes moved to Joel, darting away as he watched on. Worry beginning to crease his brow and pull the corners of his mouth down.

“Do you have any…t-tampons?”

Joel’s turning around back to the fire as quickly as he had turned toward you both. You try to hide a chuckle at that, he really was such a man sometimes. Would kill and maim for you both, but the idea of a tampon shut him off from conversation completely. You pick up your pack from where they’re stored by the back door, ready for a hasty retreat. The memories of the last time you had been huddled up somewhere to get a way from the cold in the back of your minds. She follows behind as you go into the office, never wanting to be too far from you if you were in the same space.

But as you go to begin digging around inside, Ellie reached a steady hand out and laces her fingers through yours. Silently, you allow her to drag you to the bed. Reminiscent of that first night at Bill and Frank’s, she curls up into your side and you throw an arm around her cautiously. Slow movements allowing her time to voice if she doesn’t want something or if a line will be crossed.

“Can you tell me a little bit more about what Marlene’s plan?” Before your lips were parting, the teenager spurred on, voice a little small but very much firm in words. “I know you were mainly a smuggler and stuff, but you said you traded with her. Helped patch her people up sometimes.”

“Ellie…” It was late, the sun having set, and the night sky covered by thick coverage that promised another harsh snow. But with the estimated time of year, the length of the time you all had been enduring it, spring was sure to come soon. Hopefully by the time you had managed to travel to the next destination…which it seemed like Ellie was determined to figure out now with you. You both knew Joel would go along with whatever was decided, though you reserved the thought of what he would have to say should Ellie still want to go forward with finding Marlene and helping her out. It’s what started this whole journey after all…it’s what gave someone who was far too young with far too little a purpose.

Who were you and Joel to take that away from her? Regardless of your concerns about the efficacy and morality of what was at stake?

“Please, I…I need to know so I can make a decision.” She’s conflicted, the initial purpose of the journey lost in the wake of everything that’s occurred, everything that sees seen and been through. Marlene, the Fireflies, her former life; all of it a distant memory.

“We don’t have to make any decisions right now, we can just rest. It’s okay.” Soothing her as best you could, you rub a gentle hand over her back, the tension in her small body winding her muscles tight even as she breaths deeply and evenly.

“It’s…it’s heavy, the weight of her in the back of my mind. I need to decide if we move toward her or…. back home.”

“To Jackson?”

“To Jackson.” Her nose prods at your ribs where her head is tucked into your middle. “We can have a life there, all of us. I- I want that.”

“I’ll do everything in my power to make that happen, I promise you.” Shuffling down a little further, you press your nose into her hair, giving her everything you possibly could. You always would, she deserves it. She deserved every god damn thing she wants, no matter how trivial or silly.

“I’m not afraid of him, I hope he doesn’t think that.” She confesses, her voice taking on a different edge, an exhaustion that you knew all to well. You hadn’t thought so, neither had he. Her mind almost working against her with his presence, a natural response to not only what you had seen, but what you had inferred happened as she had been chased until the moment she had successfully fled.  

“No, honey, he does not. He just wants you to feel comfortable, so he’s letting you decide how to interact with him.”

“He’s a good man,” She mumbles, voice thick as sleep takes a hold of her. You smile into the crown of her head, heart skipping as you recall Joel’s lopsided grin, his dimpled cheek quirked up and his wrinkles deepening with the action.

“He is.” Her hand tangles with yours, fingers slack the second they do and you hold on tight enough for the both of you.

Hours later, you emerge from the room. It had been an office, but the cot in there with the collection of blankets and supplies told you it had been someone’s safe haven for a time. You tried not to wonder what had happened to them.

“Everythin’ okay?” He looks up from where he’s seated on the small couch in front of the fireplace. A lounge spot for guests once upon a time. Now a blessed place to rest that wasn’t harsh, frozen ground.

“Just girl stuff.”

“Girl..stuff?”

“Yes, Joel. Girl stuff.” You meet his eyes with a blank face, hoping he understood without explicit details, you didn’t want to embarrass Ellie anymore than she already felt. The subject matter probably something she didn’t want to discuss with him beforehand and especially now…You had noticed that the teenager was wary of every large shadow, anything that resembled a masculine figure. But Joel, she trusted wholeheartedly. He had never given her any reason to fear him, not beyond that first encounter.

She knew he would never raise his hand or voice at her. That he would never do so to you.

Sighing, you slumped onto the couch beside Joel. Dust flying up from the action, ingrained in the fabric despite the way you had seen Joel try to rid them of it.

“This okay?” His voice was low, almost hushed as he raised his left arm and put it along the back of the couch. You looked up at him, eyes connection and nodded before settling in beside him with your head on his shoulder and your hand on his chest. Neither of you had brought up deep conversation, questions that lingered in too-long gazes or lost in thought wonderings. Ellie was the focus right now, getting her to safety.

You sit in silence for a while, basking in the calm moment alone with him. His casual touch comforting, butterflies fluttering in your middle as you feel shy all of a sudden with him. It was out in the open, the connection you two shared, the one that had been deep enough to prompt him to see it as a weakness.

“She wants to find Marlene. But not to help her, to get more answers. To find out if the woman can be trusted.”

“She can’t be.” He’s so matter of fact, you know he’s had nothing but bad interactions with her. Bad memories of her. But so did you, despite actively trading with the woman long ago now.

“I know that and you know that, and she acknowledges that. She wants me-“

“You ain’t goin’ to see her alone.” His arm wraps over your shoulders, pulling you into him even more. As if he could physically restrain you from leaving even as you two sat together and merely discussed it.

“Joel…”

“Darlin’, she’s got too many men if the setup is half of what she had in the QZ. Too much fire power if she decides you’re the one not to be trusted and prevents you from leaving or sends them out in search of me ‘n Ellie.”

“I know…I can…I can spin a story about how Ellie got injured. That’s why you brought her to me, found me in one of my hiding spots in the city. That we- tried to keep her alive as long as possible but come winter her injuries were too bad.” You can tell he doesn’t like the idea, but it’s what you’ve got. She would have to believe it. The landscape unforgiving, the winter one of the worst in more recent years.

“She’ll wonder why it was you that came to her then, rather than me.”

“Joel…she’s…she’s going to kill her one way or another if she even so much as catches wind of a lie. I can lie, I can make the story believable, for all our sakes. She…she wants to go back to Jackson, she wants to have a home. She wants to be with us, to just…be a kid even if it’s a little too late.”

“Shouldn’t have left you there…especially the way that I did.” His voice dips, quiet and somber. A confession you already knew by the way he watched you, kept you and Ellie fed as best he could, stood watch every night so you two could rest.

“It’s…it happened. That’s all I can say.” You press your face into the crook of his neck, his right hand coming up to help you toss your legs over his own. It was quiet, it was comfortable, it was easy. Even if there was more to be said about what it all was. For now…for now you would have it, have him. You’re pretty sure you would for the rest of your life. “But…it did allow me to cross paths with some people.”

“Good people or bad people?”

“Family. Joel, I found my family.” He doesn’t say anything, though you can sense that his mind is working overtime, that worry is seeping into his thoughts, into his very being at the implication. “I sent them to Jackson, gave them my map with a note scrawled on it and the rest of my food. They…they had been traveling for a long time, no shelter for too long.

“My cousins, they…they told me how things went down back home. That my dad- that he…”

“’s okay, he’s at peace now.” He buried his nose into your hair, breathing you in. Comforting you with a press of his lips and tightening his hold on you as you practically laid in his lap. “Tommy, he’s good. He’ll take care of them. He’ll believe them, take them in and care for them like they’re his own.”

“The girl…Joel, I thought she would’ve been long dead by now. Wouldn’t even have the chance to be born. My aunt, she was still pregnant when the Outbreak happened. Had only been about four months along but, fuck…She’s so beautiful, Joel. She’s alive, her brother kept her alive.”

“Babies are a lot, but now…”

“Babies are a lot.” You repeat, thought the image of a young boy with wide brown eyes and thick curls bursts up into your mind. Freckled skin, gummy smile. Holding hands with an older Ellie…

“Without you we managed to get on the bad side of a group of….fucking religious zealots who moonlighted as cannibals. Some sick preacher who demands things of the children in his care, in his protection. What-“ He tenses beneath you, the rage and disgust he feels toward the very thought of the dead man’s mindset. “What kind of a man even thinks that way?”

“He was demented, before the end of the world. Turned into a monster long before the world turned others.”

“The way I’m imagining things going, even though you said he didn’t- didn’t do that- he still took you both, he still put his hands on you, thought about-“

“He’s gone now, let’s just…let’s just sit here, yeah?” You placed your hand over his racing heart, his adrenaline amping up and far too focused on something that was already dealt with. You knew about guilt, about shame, of carrying things with you. But this was something you didn’t want anyone to hold onto, you didn’t want it to define Ellie or Joel, didn’t want it to warp them or change the way they saw the world. Even though you knew it would, you would try your best to handle your own side of the experience and help them through theirs.

His hand rested over yours, the fire crackled on, and you both fell into a restful slumber for the first time in a long time.

The future doesn’t seem so bleak, with the younger girl still in tow. Intact and seemingly come to a decision. No more lingering questions, no more inquisitive comments, everything she had thought of and every errant thought addressed and talked about. It had taken days to hash it all out with you and Joel.

That was weeks ago, the weather warming since then. Though the nights were still stark and chilly, there was no more snow, no more storms and the ice that had taken over the landscape had melted.

It was finally spring. A season of new beginnings.

She’s been quiet when anything else was concerned, not asking after food or shelter, more layers, for someone to quit either humming or rambling as Joel had begun to do a bit to try and stave off the silence. He didn’t like it, he had confessed one night when it was late, you barely asleep and leaning against his chest in front of the fire. Quiet normally meant everything was alright, but the quiet that settled over the trio as of late, since…since that settlement, it was too quiet. Like the eerie stillness and lifeless quiet of a forest before a storm or the way birds flee the shores as giant waves build far out in the sea.

It was endearing, the way he wanted to fill the silence. To try and let Ellie know that it’s okay to ramble, to say something even if it didn’t mean anything, even if it wasn’t serious. Breaking the precedent he had set nearly a year ago now as the weather slowly warms, the crisp air becomes easier to breathe. And through it all, the time that goes on and the time spent together, it’s…it’s healing in more ways than even you anticipated.

You keep that all in mind, picturing the small smile she had finally cracked the night before. It had ben genuine; it had been real. And it meant the world to you now, even as your feet lightly scuffed along the blown-up downtown streets of Salt Lake City. The old, faded road signs that lead you here swam in your minds eye. The milage it had taken to get here, not just from Colorado, but from Wyoming, from Kansas City, from Lincoln, from Boston.

Your feet were the only two walking among amidst the city, it had taken a lot of convincing for Joel to stay behind with Ellie. The reasoning that you knew Marlene, even if he did as well by proxy from his brother’s old involvement in the Fireflies and the smuggling scene that seemed to be the center of life so long ago. You knew her, the passion she had for this project, this idea, this cure. It was damaging, the way she had prattled on and on. Asked after medical books, after your knowledge, your own ideas on the matter.

But you knew better than to put hope where things were useless. At least with this instance. There was no cure, there would never be a cure. Only adaption, from both sides. The infection changing with the environment, the spores that hung over cities in large clouds and overtook the very air evidence enough, if the different types of hierarchal mutations it made to different bodies didn’t. Runner, clickers, bloaters, all of it was bad. The simple bite transfer of infection was bad. And now it was evolving, but so was humanity.

There was no hope for help from a cure. Blood was blood, no matter if it was immune or not. It was more than just creating one, by some medical miracle. Some medical breakthrough. It was about supplies, equipment, the ability to distribute, to reverse the ways humanity and society had evolved in wake of the Outbreak. You only hoped that throughout more years, decades, lifetimes, it would prove to be the superior substance over fungi. Even you weren’t sure of it, but that was where you placed your hope.

Not in a cure sought out by a woman who would do anything to kickstart her research with a ill-devised plan. One that included killing her only source of immune antibodies at first light, which you recalled seeing in her notes long ago. You weren’t sure what that meant, but it sure as hell entailed a lot of trial and error that would rob Ellie of any kind of life she knew, a lab rat would be her future.That any chance she had at building a case, a base, a starting point; that she would use it to the full potential and not squander it away.  

You had told Joel as much, sparing Ellie that particular detail as she already had lost her interest in Marlene’s cause. It was enough to convince the man to stay back, in the wilderness around the city and far enough away that even if someone had picked up your trail and backtracked, it would allow for them both to get away without any interaction or altercation. He had never trusted her, even less so now. There was no way in hell he would let her fall into the woman’s hands ever again.

He had a purpose, he admitted to you, after having lost himself after failing the last one. A confession of a family member you had known about but didn’t know the details. Didn’t need to know the details other than that the event plagued him and set him on the path that had allowed your own to cross with it He had found another one in protecting you and Ellie, is ensuring your survival and that of his brothers, Maria’s, their child now. The hot tears that had trailed down his exhausted face had melted your heart for the man even more. The simple phrase you once said without abandon bubbling up into your chest and throat, warming you from the inside out. But you hadn’t uttered it, too afraid of what was still yet to come.

In Jackson, you promised yourself. You would tell him when you made it back to Jackson, to relative safety. You would whisper it into his lips, his skin, the broadness of his shoulders, the slope of his softening middle, the thickness of his thighs and in between. You would say it with purpose once again, for the man who you had never anticipated seeing beyond glimpses in an overcrowded and under sources quarantine zone.

You can feel them all around you, still following you even after you had downed at least three of them. A disguised nudge in the right direction, some of them recognizing you, some of them knowing from orders to leave you be. Tracking behind you as you found the hospital, followed the fait signs that had been made to look worn and aged. But you knew better, knew how they operated even if you didn’t approve of it nor support it.

The woman was hunched over an entrance table of sorts, no doubt where they tried to keep track of who was entering and exiting the building they claimed for their own. She stiffened as the door opened and your boots echoed on the tile floor. Turning to look at you in disbelief, you could tell she hadn’t believed the reports over the comm lines that it was actually you.

But you sure as hell could believe it was her and you were pissed.

“Your men should know better than to try and corner me, Marlene.”

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HASHIRAMA X GENDER NEUTRAL READER DAD! HEADCANONS

TW: SLIGHT MENTIONS OF PHYSICAL AND VERBAL ABUSE IN THE BEGINNING(TOWARDS HASHIRAMA WHEN HE WAS A CHILD)

Literally the sweetest father on the planet

-His own father wasn’t exactly what one would call father of the year. And he often grew up being demeaned for having a sensitive nature

From verbal lashings to physical beatings from his father, all of that led to issues that he currently deals with today, even though he’s tried to get over it.

That’s why when his child was born he vowed to be the father to them that he never had. As an infant he’d most certainly never put you down(Unless Mito forced him too).

He’d hug you and cradle you close to him literally 24 hours in a day if he could.

You are also most likely born before the founding of Konohagakure, during the warring states era, so he’s extra on guard.

He loves taking care of his baby, from feeding them, to playing with them, to putting them to sleep, the only thing he doesn’t really like is changing diapers, but he always consoles himself by aggressively reminding him that it is for the good and happiness of his sweet and precious and wonderful baby, which always takes the discomfort away

In the toddler years you best believe he’s overprotective. If he turns away from you for one second, you’ve somehow scaled the bookshelf, causing him to nearly have a heart attack. If it’s not that, then he sees you playing with one of his swords, or you’ve somehow managed to eat more sweets than he told you to!

Hashirama is sure that he is going to get grey hairs, he can already feel them coming.

There was this one time that when he went to go and grab something from his room and left you in the living room for two minutes, you had already made your way to the kitchen about to curiously figure out how to light a fire to cook food

Since that day, you’ve either been under constant watch of Hashirama, or Mito, when the other is busy. Your early childhood years were quite wonderful. Hashirama played all sorts of games with you when you were a kid, from chasing games, to make believe, to fun competitions, he did it all.

He’d often be engrossed in a very detailed imaginary story with his child, a tale about a ferocious monster and having to defeat it, or a simple day at the market.

He’ll take his role very very seriously, whether he’s playing a ferocious monster you best believe that his roar will be as fierce as possible, or he’ll be the grumpiest customer at the market

Putting games and fun aside, he’d start training you in the Shinobi arts, he’d however be much more softer than the brutal and grueling training his father put him through at a young age

He’d start off with the basics and eventually move into more advanced things as you progress and master basic skills, being his child and the child of Mito, your most likely very powerful, so you’d pick up jutsu rather quickly.

He’d be stern yet kind in teaching you. He wants you to grow up to be a capable Shinobi, however he also wants you to go at a comfortable pace. He wouldn’t really go easy on you, but he wouldn’t go hard on you either, finding a balance between the two.

If you somehow inherited his wood style kekkei genkai he’d be absolutely elated, and he’d teach you everything that you needed to know. It felt kinda lonely being the only human on the planet with wood style, and now that he can pass it on to his child he’s never been more happy and proud, and he boasts to Tobirama about you on a daily basis(much to the younger Senju’s displeasure)

When Konoha is founded he feels so much excitement and pride to share this wonderful gift with his child, and to have a village where his children can live in peace and live to reach adulthood.

He wants to share his dream with you and he hopes that you’ll come to love the village as much as he does. He’d love to see you inherit his will of fire and start to see the villagers as your family.

As the years move by, you enter your teenage years.

The years that Hashirama has been waiting for, he doesn’t know whether to be excited or to be wary of that time when so many parents almost end of losing their mind because of their children.

You were brought up well, Hashirama was a loving and patient father, yet could be firm when needed, he’d love to spoil you and shower you in his affection but he didn’t tolerate bad behaviour, he was gentle yet firm with his discipline.

However you still had your moments of disobedience as a teenager which made him want to pull his hair out, whether it be coming back past curfew, rudely talking back, or going off on your own to fight some enemy shinobi(which almost causes him to have a panic attack)

Hashirama is very patient with you in your teenage years, he knows it’s a turbulent and confusing time when one transitions from an adolescent into a young adult, and you must be feeling confused and want more space and freedom, he’s willing to give you that, but all he asks is that you don’t do anything reckless and just try and listen to his advice.

When you break the rules he’s obviously going to give you a consequence for that. He doesn’t strike me as the type of father to give harsh discipline, he’s more so the punishment fits the crime type of father, so if you sneak out, then your grounded for a certain period of time, and if you talk back rudely then he’s sending you to your room to reflect on your behaviour. He doesn’t like disciplining you, but he does so out of love and wanting you to stay on the right path.

If you decide to start dating as a teenager oh boy.. prepare for another Hashirama to be activated “Who are they?? What do they look like?? Do I know them?? What’s their favourite color?? Do they like mushroom zosui like me?? Are they a shinobi or civilian, WHAT DO THEY THINK OF ME?!” Yeah…. He’s going to be excited to say the least.

Hashirama cannot wait to meet this person who has captured his child’s heart, and he’ll be the most friendliest person ever when he meets them and give them the highest bear hug they’ve ever received. As far as he’s concerned his child’s s/o is his child too. Until they break your heart. Then Hashirama will have to disown them and he will be sad, though he’ll mostly be sad for you cause you’re actually his child.

He will help you with your heartbreak and tell you that there are plenty of fish in the sea and you just have to wait until you meet the right person just like he did with your mother. He will let you cry in his shoulder and comfort you in his arms. Even though a breakup at 16 probably won’t even mean that much, Hashirama is still gonna comfort them, because to his child it means a lot and therefore it means a lot to him.

He’ll try his best to cheer you up in the coming days and let you know that he’ll always be there for you and you should focus on your training and all your dreams and goals in the meantime, because love will fall one day, it just takes some time.

As your teenage years end and you transition from a teenager into a young adult, he couldn’t be more proud of how much you’ve grown. Your probably still living in the Senju Compound, so I don’t think you’d move out of it, so he still sees you very often which makes him rather happy.

Whether or not you get married or don’t get married, he fully supports your decision and at the end of the day he just wants you to be happy and healthy, if you choose to get married that’s wonderful and he adores your spouse like his own child, and if you and your spouse decide to have children, he’s ecstatic to have grand babies to spoil(Here comes Tsunade).

He is going to tell them stories about his youth and overdramatize it(but given how powerful he is, it most likely won’t be an exaggeration) He will play with them even though he’s getting old(he still says that he’s got it, he actually is rather flexible and sturdy for an old man)

Now Hashirama would be a very sweet and kind Father in Law. He just wants what’s best for you and for you to be with someone who loves you and treats you right. He adores you more than anything and wants his Child In Law to love you as much as he does(though that might not be possible considering just how much Hashirama loves you)

He’s very good at giving relationship advice, and often helps mediate your conflicts with your spouse. Hashirama likes to stay neutral in arguments and find ways to make both sides happy and feel validated. So yeah he is really good at uniting people.

If you don’t choose to get married he’s fine with that and just wants to see you happy doing what you love.

He’s definitely spending a lot of time with you though, and making sure that you are at peace with your life. He won’t have any of his clan members talking bad about your life choices, if the elders are onto him because of your choices then they can go and kiss trees! Your happiness comes first and foremost to him.

As his end days grow closer, whether he succumbs to his mortality from either battle wounds or simply old age, he’ll press one last soft and loving kiss to your forehead, and tell you of the wonderful things your going to do, and how you’re going to lead the Senju Clan and the village.

He gently wipes your tears away and reassures you that one day you’ll see each other again, father and child.

From infancy to adulthood, Hashirama loves you unconditionally, infinitely, and eternally. His love for you is as pure as gold and as precious as a diamond, the love of a parent is the most powerful force in the universe and he’s the perfect example of that. You won the lottery by being the child of the most loving, gentle, and affectionate man on the planet.