#winter sweet notes with amor amor

[gucciwins]

okay i don’t know if u still talk about this series but i LOVED harry & bels story it was so beautifully written that i stopped writing my dissertation to finish it today!!! how do u they bel & h would be in 2024?? 🫶🏻🫶🏻

sweet angel! thank you so much for reading 💜 hope the dissertation is going well. I loved writing for harry and bel so here is an update for you.

word count: 1,383

love on tour

+

Y/N loved weddings. 

She loved the joy it brought the couple and everyone in their life. She loved seeing pieces of the couple scattered around as she tried her best to piece their story together. Y/N loved the cake, the food, and the open bar, where she loved to drink as many Shirley Temples as she liked until she gave herself a toothache. There was so much love in the air that Y/N always wanted to step back to see how happy everyone was to be there. The dance floor is where Y/N liked to be most of the night dancing from partner to partner. 

The wedding of Naomi Hart and Sarai Barrera is something Y/N had waited ages for after the engagement last year when on vacation in Italy with Y/N and Harry. It was a week-long celebration for her best friends, seeing as Y/N and Harry didn’t see them after the organized engagement party at Harry’s home, where their family gathered. 

While the ceremony today had been beautiful, Y/N could not stop crying. She delivered her speech and said everything correctly with no tear in sight, but after she pronounced them married, Naomi and Sarai shared a beautiful kiss, and the waterworks began. Harry pulled her to the side, squeezing her tight as she let her tears drip down her face, knowing she’d steal a moment to fix her makeup, although she knew it wouldn’t budge. Ailany, her makeup artist and close friend, promised a bucket of water would not move her makeup. 

Y/N was finally done with pictures and ready for a cold beverage. Still, because brides were busy, she was given a list of miscellaneous tasks that Y/N happily passed on to Naomi’s brother, who was excited to have something to do running away from any more photos. Y/N and Harry grabbed photos together. She knew they would be going up around their house in London. Harry had plastered his favorite pictures of them, from one hanging in the kitchen to a few scattered in the hallway next to the art pieces both had acquired through the years. Three were placed on the mantle, and each had their respective picture on the nightstand at the side of their bed. Their love is scattered throughout the house, easily seen by anyone who visits them.

She was running away from the large greenhouse and into the venue before someone could stop her. Y/N would also be keeping an eye out for her boyfriend. She needed a kiss to make it through the next hour. As Y/N turned the corner, she almost bumped into someone, but she quickly stepped away, noting the person had drinks in their hand. The familiar vanilla smell filled the air around her, and Y/N instantly settled. 

Harry. 

She had found Harry. 

“Bel, you alright?” 

Y/N nods, “Need a drink.” 

Harry grins at her, raising one of the glasses in his hand. “Fancy a water?” 

Y/N shoots him a bright smile. “Did you know I love you, Harry Styles? Because I do. So much.” 

His cheeks turn pink, “it doesn’t hurt to hear from time to time, my love.” 

She takes a long drink of water, sighing in relief. They happened to get married on the hottest day in California. Winter was like no other here, but today felt like the start of Spring. Harry slipped his hand into Y/N’s and began to walk with her. Y/N didn’t question where he was taking her. She was happy to steal a moment away with him. 

Y/N leaned her head on his shoulder, the comfort of being with her person enough to soothe her. 

Harry had led them to a dead-end that faced the ocean, the windows long and tall, allowing her to view every inch of the outside. He carefully helped her sit on the bench to smooth her dress. 

“Alright, amor?” 

“Perfect.” 

They settled close to each other, Harry resting his hand on Y/N’s lap as she once again leaned her head on his shoulder. It’s a beautiful day, and Harry can’t help but think that one day, it will be Y/N’s and his turn to marry. They both want it, and he has the perfect ring for when the time is right. 

“Back to filming soon?”

Y/N sighs, “Let’s not, estrella.” 

“You’re going to leave me.” 

Harry knows she loves her job, but after the time they’ve spent at home together, he selfishly wants her to stay with him as he enjoys his break and begins the process for his next album. 

“I love you, Harry. You promised to come with me for a week or so.” 

He had agreed. Of course, he would be going, but there was something special about simply being Harry and Y/N inside the comfort of their home. 

“I will. You have the last of the award season soon.” 

Y/N frowns, “I was invited, but my films are releasing this year since everything was pushed back.”

“But Lily Gladstone, my love.” 

Y/N laughed. “She’s going to win. We’ll send her a bouquet of flowers.” 

“I will be attending the Brits,” Harry reminds her. 

“Will I be your date?”

“If you’re free?” He teases, knowing very well she has this date saved in her schedule.

“Dork.” 

The silence floats around them, and Y/N knows they must head back soon but makes no move to stand up. Instead enjoys the quiet of being with Harry.

“Y/N?” Harry voiced after five minutes. 

“Hmm…”

“What do you picture your future like in a few years?” 

She detects the tremble in his voice and moves her body to face him. Her hands snaked up his suit, and her fingers briefly played with the lace collar before settling on his cheeks. Y/N loves Harry. He’s never afraid to speak his mind, but sometimes he even overwhelms himself. 

“Well,” she starts. “Our future is us living in London. It’s a place we love, and I don’t picture us living elsewhere unless you magically convince me to live in Italy, which I would never oppose. We’ll have two dogs because you promised we’d get one this year,” she reminds him. 

“We’ll make it happen,” he promises. 

“In a few years, I hope we’ll be married. You’ll be touring, and I’ll be your groupie, having quit acting.” 

“Y/N,” he deadpans. 

“Kidding,” Y/N giggles. “I hope to have directed a few films, one I love with a cast and crew who support me every single step of the way. I want to continue to create a safe environment and continue to pave a path for Latinas. But mostly, I hope we’re happy. We continue to encourage our dreams and hold each other’s hand when things get tough. I hope to love you for as long as I breathe. How does that sound?”

Harry’s eyes shine with tears. He gives her a single nod. “It’s perfect. Everything I want.” 

He closes the gap, needing to kiss Y/N. Needing to express that he wants everything she stated. He feels the world pause around them, and he knows at this moment there is no one else in the world who could ever come close to making him feel as loved and cared for as Y/N makes him. Soulmate is a big word, but he knows it’s the one for them deep down. 

Y/N giggles against his lips, “You love me?”

“Te amo,” he responds. 

“I love you.” That is Y/N’s answer. 

Harry pulls her in for another kiss, full of passion and familiarity. So much is being said at the moment, and Y/N knows they won’t ever forget it. 

Y/N loved Harry. She knew he was her person. The person she was meant to spend the rest of her life with knew he felt the same. 

2024 so far had brought them lots of joy, and with Harry’s birthday coming up, she knew it would only get better. Ultimately, Y/N had no idea what 2024 had in store for them, but as long as she kept loving Harry and he loved her, she knew everything would be alright.

[drapopia]

quiet night in

pairing: papa emeritus i x reader

warnings/potential triggers: none that i am aware of! i am always willing to add anything to this if someone mentions something!

summary: After a busy day away from one another, the only thing you want is him beside you. And maybe a small nap as well.

author's note: my first ghost fic/drabble! i am a little anxious to share this, to be quite honest. i just want to curl up with this ancient satanic pope (said lovingly)... peemo my love, come close! truly though, i just felt like sharing some soft times with primo, because truly, who doesn't want that? my inbox is always welcome to thoughts!

word count: 1,073

-----

“Hmm…” You say, leaning in closer to peer over the edge of the paper held firmly in Papas’ hands. “I am clueless, truly.” 

He chuckles, tapping the pencil lazily against the paper. “Think harder, amore. I’m sure we can figure it out if we put ourselves to the task.” 

You sigh, leaning in closer to rest your head in the crook of his arm. You’re perched against his arm, propped up against the smooth silk of his matching maroon pajama set. Your eyes lazily scan the room, thinking to yourself. Primo and you often spent your weeknights poring over the crossword puzzle when you weren’t both exhausted from your daily tasks. When you weren’t posturing back and forth to one another over the possible solution, you were leaning in closer and closer to the warmth of one another.

You sigh once more, your arm reaching out of the warmth of his duvet, fluffed and warmed by Primo as he waited for you to exit your shower earlier. Your hand reaches out to grab his own, inspecting it with a soft smile. The wrinkles on his hands were still golden, although winter had not loosened its grip on the Abbey yet. And still Papa worked his way through the greenhouse, crooning sweet praises to his flowers that thrived in the humid air of the building. His hand closed around yours, pulling it up to his lips and pressing a delicate kiss to the center of your palm. He smiled, his eyes closed as he reclined against the pillows on your shared bed. 

“Have you thought of it yet?” He said softly, making sure not to disturb your leisured slump against his arm. 

You hum, looking over at the paper. “We’re still working on seven down, correct?” 

“Si.” He smiles, pointing delicately with his pencil and tracing over it up and down. “The description is: a shared term for a ghost.” 

“How many words, letters?” You ask curiously.

“One word, seven letters.” He says softly, sinking further in the sheets with a quiet groan. You sit up slightly, wordlessly pulling the blankets closer to him. You thought for a second of getting up to grab the ointment from his bedside table, but you knew it would bring him less comfort than usual. The cold had sunk into his bones, and he would not enjoy the stickiness of the balm on his skin. He had complained occasionally of the balm not sinking into his skin. This gave him an opportunity to purr into your ear of just how well you would rub it in. Sometimes it would end with a giggle and a teasing smack to the arm to scold him, and other times… Well, Primo was a charming man. 

“Lay back down, petal.” He murmured, wrapping his arm around you as you settled back into the sheets. Primo’s arm curled around you, his thumb rubbing small circles into your arm. 

“Do you have any thoughts, Papa?” You asked quietly, looking back down at the crossword. 

“I have a few, but I would like to hear your own first before we discuss.” He chuckles, beginning to tap his pencil against the side of the puzzle once more.

“What about… wraith?” You ask, looking down at the paper and then shaking your head. No, that was only six letters. “No, never mind. Give me a minute.” 

“All the time in the world, amore. Or at least until we drift asleep.” He smiles, letting his head drop slowly to rest on top of your own. Your eyes drift to the room around you. Although you had shared this room for what felt like an eternity, the space still screamed of Papa Emeritus the First. While Terzo and Secondo preferred to boast of luxury and extravagant purchases, Primo liked to let his own taste, refined over decades, speak for itself. The four poster bed obscured the few vintage lamps that sat in the room, casting the room in a cozy, dazed ambiance. 

“Perhaps… it is phantom?” He asked softly, shaking his head after a moment. “It is enough letters, but I’m sure we can come up with something more elegant, no?” He chuckles hoarsely, and you lean up to gaze at him. He was always handsome, dizzyingly gorgeous. The darkened room only seemed to deepen the creases in his face, his crows feet crinkled as he smiled gently to himself in thought. You relax further against him, butterflies in your stomach. His eyes dart downwards, his smile more fond than before. “You’re grinning, does my answer amuse you?” 

“Oh no, but I do agree. We should think of something more fancy, such as…” You think, and then begin to giggle to yourself. “What about ‘ghoulie’, perhaps?” 

He laughs, his chest rumbling against your cheek. “And what is a ghoulie?” 

“Far worse than anything you’ve ever known, Papa, a supernatural being only whispered about by fellow siblings. How unfortunate that you’ve never heard these rumors.” You giggle, a small blush heating your cheeks. 

“Is that so, petal?” He asks, his smile softening in the warm light of his bedroom. “I shall have to look more into these spectres that I seem to have never heard about. Even in all my years, not one whisper.” He chuckles gently. 

You snicker to yourself, your hand gripping his own with care. And then, you understand. You gasp, looking at the paper and raising your hand to tap at the crossword. “Spectre! What about that?” 

He gazes at the paper, his hand rising to push his reading glasses further up his nose. He taps the small boxes going down, counting quietly to himself. His eyes light up, and his hand scribbles in ‘specter’ into the empty box. “Quite right, so smart.” Primo says gently, pressing a delicate kiss against the top of your head. You smile, closing your eyes as you bask in the warmth of his praise. 

“Primo, you’re the one who said it.” You whisper, your eyes still closed as the dark washes over you. The weight of the day is felt on your shoulders, gently melting off in the comforting embrace of your lover. Your arms wrap around him with a small grunt, your cheek against his chest. Vaguely you feel his arms rubbing your shoulder comfortingly, his lips pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head once more. What you don’t see is Primo gazing at you, delicately tucking your hair behind your ear with a lovesick sigh, barely discernible amongst your soft breathing as the day winds to an end. 

[ugh-yoongi]

HOBI REQUESTS YAY! okay so at first i was thinking it might be hobi's birthday and he stays late at the studio regardless of the day and comes home to reader all tired and drained, but then reader has such a sweet surprise for him when he gets there (whether it be a cake, flowers, balloons, etc.) and it just seems like he can breathe again without the weight of his work on his chest, even if it's just for that night, he can fall asleep with no problem.

OR, considering it's in the name of jess' birthday, it could be reversed? reader's birthday and hobi has the sweet surprise instead? i don't have an idea of what specifically would be demanding so much of reader's attention, but coming home to hobi with his pretty smile on such a day seems like something so beautiful.

that's all i could muster up as of now, 🙃 if you chose to, feel free to play around with it until it's something you are comfortable with! <3

thank you so much for the request! i went with the first one and i hope you enjoy it! <3

(side note: i banged this out in one sitting so i'm tentatively optimistic that my writer's block is cured. we'll see. thank you all for your patience and not showing up in my ask box with pitchforks.)

ataraxia

pairing: hoseok x reader genre: est. relationship au; fluff, a tiny bit of angst warnings: hobi's kind of going through it so there are allusions to poor mental health, otherwise this is mostly fluff. just being there for your person when they're having a tough time. no gendered pronouns used. unedited. rating: e for everyone wordcount: 1k listen to: novo amor - anchor

Hoseok had heard once that babies born in the winter are stronger.

Something about mothers being able to absorb more vitamin D during the summer months.

As he collapses onto the floor of his studio, sweat and exhaustion blurring his vision, he thinks those people are full of shit. What has being born in winter gotten him besides muscle cramps and seasonal depression? Because he’s also at a higher risk for that, which those people lauding his athleticism tend to leave off of the discussion.

He sighs. He’s twenty-nine now, and there’s something truly haunting about the inevitability of time. Can’t slow it down, can’t make it go faster; he just has to sit here and take it. Next year he’ll be thirty, thirty-one the year after that, and on and on it’ll go for the rest of his life.

All he has are these little joys: the squeak of his new sneakers on the studio floor, the kids in his class finally nailing their routine, those peach iced teas he likes being buy one get one free this week at the convenience store next door. He has you, too, but you were smart and traded in your two-cent dreams for the corporate world and now you’re spending his birthday on a business trip to Singapore.

Yoongi would call him an asshole for that, probably. He has friends. Friends who want to see him, buy him a drink and give him gifts, and he appreciates the effort, he does, he’s just… tired. Fatigue has seeped into all of his bones and left him nothing more than a husk of a person. It’s been months of this same unending grind, and he’s running out of self to give.

At least Singapore is warm this time of year. In Seoul, beyond the frosted windows of his studio, there’s nothing but gray-brown slush and a patch of black ice he can’t melt no matter how much he salts it.

“Fuck this,” he mutters.

It’s nearing nine o’clock. He needs to get home; needs to eat something and drag himself into a hot shower before he crawls into bed and spends the entire weekend there. Needs to reply to all the texts on his phone wishing him a happy birthday. Needs to tactfully and politely turn down all the invitations. Needs to post some bubbly, colorful message on social media thanking everyone for the well-wishes and attach a photo from a few weeks ago because he hasn’t been smiling much lately.

First, though, he needs to get off the floor.

He usually likes his walk home. Likes pressing his face to the glass to look at all the window displays when he’s not in the mood to shop. Likes seeing other people go about their days, live their lives. Likes looking at all the ways the city reflects sunlight and fades to husky gold. Likes walking under the cherry blossoms in the spring; likes it even more when a few petals stick to his shoulders and you laugh and brush them off as soon as he comes through the door.

It’s hard to get off the floor when none of that is out there.

But he does it anyway, because maybe he has a bit of that winter strength. He packs up his stuff and sits at the bus stop, counts his exhales as they materialize in front of him, thankful for the heavy coat you’d bought for him a few years ago, now well-worn and no longer itchy. He sits at the back by himself and sends half-assed replies to all of those texts. Scrolls back to stare at the photo you’d sent him this morning—fresh from sleep and barefaced, lips pursed together in a kiss, thumb and pointer fingers together in a heart.

Slush sticks to his shoes as he ducks inside the building. Nearly trips climbing up the stairs, because the two of you live on the fourth floor and it feels too lazy to take the elevator, even when his muscles are screaming from a long day at the dance studio. But it keeps him moving. Keeps him upright and functional when all he wants to do is rot away.

His shoes are dry by the time he reaches the door, soaked into the carpet lining the hallway. His hands still bear the cold—red and unsteady, it takes him a few tries to punch in the code. Gets it wrong twice, and he takes a second to just… stand there, head resting against the door, feeling the weight of the world come down on him.

He’s not sure what he thought twenty-nine would be like, but surely it wasn’t this.

And maybe if he wasn’t feeling so low, he would’ve noticed. Your keys in the bowl by the door, your shoes in the rack. The light on in the kitchen. The smell of the miyeokguk simmering on the stove. The sound of your footsteps as you meet him where he stands, shoulders slumped, eyes brimming with tears and exhaustion.

“Hob-ah?”

There are hands on his face. Soft, he thinks. They’re touching him so softly, treating him just as delicately as he feels. He leans into it; recognizes the perfume stuck to the wrist. Knows it smells like home and an aching he can never seem to put a name to, and you don’t hesitate to wrap him tightly in your arms.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” he says, words waterlogged and hesitant as he speaks them into the crook of your neck. Nothing feels real, and he doesn’t trust himself to open his eyes.

You tangle your hands in his hair. Scratch lightly against his scalp. “I got an early flight home. Got back this afternoon.” This is where someone else would ask if he’s okay, try to pry apart his ribcage and look at all the ugly parts, but you don’t. There’s just a small intake of breath and the reluctance to let him go. “The miyeokguk is almost ready,” you say instead. “Do you want to take a shower while I get everything ready?”

Hoseok is reluctant to let go, too, but he’s at his best when he has a task. Needs something to accomplish, something to check off on his imaginary to-do list, so he nods. Pulls away and immediately misses your warmth. Takes your face in his hands and presses a kiss to your forehead. Thank you, it says. I needed you here.

You already know, though. You always do.

[not-alien-girl-v]

MORE FRAT BOY KYLE FLUFF IM ACTUALLY OBSESSED WITH UR WRITING NEW FAV BLOG OMG

warning: language and aggressive vomit-inducing cuteness

note: thank u sm pookie

"Hey you," Kyle looks up from his phone after hours of scrolling through whatever random piece of media had occupied his brain today. It's 12 pm on a Saturday and Kyle had no plans other than to take his beautiful girlfriend out for dinner tonight, he was to pick her up at 6 o'clock at her house, so he's a bit surprised when she shows up unannounced, 6 hours early in his bedroom.

He's sitting at his desk chair and he previously had been playing a video game on his laptop but got distracted by his phone, something he does a lot, and he had died in the game long ago, so it wasn't like he was missing out on anything.

"Hi," she beams at him with the widest grin spread on her face. She prances toward him.

"What's got you in such a good mood? And here so early? I thought I was grabbing you at 6?" When she comes to stand behind him in the chair, he leans his head back, stretching his neck to come face to face with her. She leans her head down, placing a sweet kiss on his upside-down lips.

"Just missed you. Figured I got nothing better to do than hang with you today, so I might as well come early. Is that okay?" He doesn't miss the slight tinge of insecurity or unsureness in her last words, and he simply won't stand for her feeling any fraction of nervous in his presence.

"Of course it is, sweetie. I love spending time with you," he whispers to her as she's lingered her head next to his even after she parted from the kiss.

"Cool. Can I sit on your lap?" His heart skips a beat. He blinks in surprise, it's not like her to be so forward with her need for affection or anything like that.

"Come here," he reaches an arm out for her, placing it on the small of her back and leading her to the comfort of his lap. She squirms a bit, settling herself into him, with a content sigh.

She chuckles a little, "wow, you're warm." She leans back and snuggles her head into the crook of his neck.

He holds her firmly, enjoying the safety he feels when she's near. "And you're cold."

"That's because it's cold outside. Dead of fucking winter," she complains into his neck like a pouting child and a smile spreads on his face. He rubs her back softly.

"You walked here?"

"I got a ride," she presses her cheek to his, eager to feel his soothing touch.

"By who?" He leaves a short kiss on her neck.

Pulling back, she holds his face in both her hands, gazing into his adoring eyes, taking in his features. "My pimp. Are you totally jealous?" She sentences him to 3 kisses, one right after another, holding him in place. He hums into her open mouth.

"What's your pimp got to say about you havin' a boyfriend, huh?"

She holds his face back before he can lean in for another kiss. "I've been meaning to tell you, actually. He said you gotta start payin' up now. This whole cuddle session thing we got going on here? It ain't cheap."

"Ah, here I was thinking you liked me or something," he rubs her back some more, feeling her warm skin through the cloth of her shirt and drinking in the amorous look on her face when he focuses on her. And he wants to. He wants to look at her pretty face and stare at her forever, if she'd allow it. He'd assume she'd think him a creep, though. "Why'd you really come?"

He's no fool. She's only ever this affectionate, this in need of him when she's drunk. On top of that, she values her alone time. He tries not to take offense to it, but he knew she had a day to herself today, so it's unlike her to interrupt it with this event. This whole thing, the cuddling, the kisses, it's unlike her.

"What do you mean?"

"Darling. I'm not stupid. You're usually too quick to complain when I try and hold you like this. What's up? You can tell me," he doesn't let her hide her face back into his neck again, hoping she'll look him in the eye.

She sighs but still doesn't look straight at him. "Just had a tough morning."

"Is that all?" He asks, trying to determine if he sounds patronizing or compassionate, like he means to.

"I don't know. I just need you. Is that okay?"

"That's fine with me. You can come to me anytime you need me, you understand? You don't have to explain, you don't even need a reason why, okay? I love you," it's so easy to believe him when he speaks so dearly, with such a adoring look on his handsome face. She nods, and he nods back in confirmation. He sighs.

"I'm still cold, though. Anything you can do about that?" He smiles cutely at her again.

"Mhm," he taps the side of her leg, sending her a signal to stand up, and he follows, venturing over to his closet where he pulls out a plain black hoodie, and he turns back to her. "Arms up, baby." He doesn't miss the silly little giggle she lets out at being treated like this, and once he pulls the hoodie down over her body, he cups her face in both hands. "So cute. I'm gonna make you tea. Go lay down, sweetie."

"Don't tell me what to do," she spits back, but does what she's told, obediently, and settles herself comfortable in his cushy bed.

He's back in a few minutes, he must have microwaved the water rather than use a tea kettle. She's on his laptop, browsing through his open tabs, and for a split second, he wonders how she got into it, but then remembers he's set the password to her birthday, so it would have been easy for her to crack. "What you up to, babe?"

He sets the tea down on the nightstand next to her and walks around to the other side of the bed, taking a seat. "You've got some weird stuff on here, Ky."

He sighs. "You found the folder, didn't you."

"Yes, I found the folder. I thought I might have dreamt you telling me you have a folder full of my candids, but you told me the other night, when I was drunk right?" He nods in confirmation. "Right, and I bet you thought I was too drunk to remember it, but I'm smarter than that. I'm like a hacker, I hacked your password. It was easy, though. I mean, my birthday? That's like, basic shit."

He scoots in next to her, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her in tight. "Well excuse me for being a sap. I've got a big crush on you. I'm on some schoolboy type shit. I just wanna chase you around the playground and yank on your hair."

She turns into him, eager to feel his soft, warm skin against her hands, so she goes searching under the covers till she reaches the hem of his shirt, which she pushes up a few inches to rest her hand on his stomach. "You can pull my hair all you want, but don't chase me, I'm tired."

Resting her head on his chest, she wraps both arms around him tightly, hoping to restore her mental wellbeing in the comfort of his presence and embrace. But honestly, just him being here, so in love with her, is enough to satiate her need for him.

"You sure you don't want to talk about it?"

"There's nothing to say, really. I just missed you. But not in a normal way, I guess. I don't know. I don't have the words for this."

"You never do."

"What?"

"Words of affirmation. It's not your love language. Neither is physical touch, but every now and then, you can have your moments. But acts of service, you like that the most. 'S why I always give you a hoodie when you get cold, make you tea and cuddle you to warm you up. I know it's what makes you feel my love the most."

"Aww. Now I feel shitty, what's your love language? I don't know it."

"It's physical touch. Don't stress over it baby. I know you love me, you don't need to specialize in being all touchy for me to know that."

"How much do you love me?"

"What?"

"Like scale of 1 to 10. Be honest."

"I'm always honest to you," he mumbles, but she still heard. "11." He worries he's said the wrong number when she doesn't say anything for a good long while.

"Hey Kyle?"

"Hmm?"

"Marry me?"

He breaks his stare at the ceiling to look back at her, only to find her staring right back at him, eye to eye. "What?"

"Marry me." She says it as a statement now. She knows how whipped he is.

"Are you being silly right now or are you being for real?"

"For real."

He gazes into her eyes, trying to find a hint of sarcasm, but only finding equally returned love. "Yes, I'll marry you. Are you kidding me?"

"Nope. I'm tired though. Nap first, then marriage?" He bursts out laughing at her, like he always does, and he wouldn't have it any other way.

"Yeah, let's nap first, sweetie."

[bluestar22x]

The Future

The Outcast - Epilogue: The Future

Summary: Just like winter, the end is just the beginning

Pairing: Pero Tovar x F!Reader

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 2,700 (ish)

Warnings: Mention of a baby goat (kid) having died, angst, pregnancy plot, non-graphic labor and birth, fluff, pov changes, quintessential happy ending

Author’s Note: This is a very self indulgent bonus part - you can read the first four parts and have a satisfying ending if this kind of ending isn't your thing. For those who do like this kind of ending guess what my favorite line(s) to write was.

Also, any names I used in this fic were themed and/or meaningful. And if one of my running themes of relating winter with life instead of death wasn't apparent, it should be now.

xxx

Death is far from a stranger on a functioning farm. Even though you usually sold your old, infertile goats to the nearest village's butcher instead of culling them yourself, that still left a whole slew of other ways for you to witness it. Illness, lethal injuries, stillbirths, and difficult deliveries that ended badly for the doe or her offspring or both had all occurred on your farm more than once.

You'd accepted it, and your need to hunt, a long time ago, because you loved the simplicity of this kind of life. You loved being mostly self reliant, knowing you could be fully self reliant if need be, and you loved the companionship of the animals you were dependent on.

Sometimes though, the deaths still hurt. Like when River, your first horse and Meadow's mother had died a few years after you'd moved onto the mountain, due to colic. She'd been in so much pain for so long you'd been forced to end her misery with a knife. The senseless guilt you'd felt after had lasted for weeks.

That was the most you'd ever cried over losing an animal, until one spring morning a year after Pero had decided to stay.

You tried to hide how upset you were by the latest death on the farm when you returned to the cottage to cook a morning meal for you both, but as soon as he followed you inside after an hour of chomping wood, you uncharacteristically started sobbing on sight of him.

Eyes filled with concern, your husband silently approached and gathered you up in his arms, kissing your temple as he did so. You took a deep breath and focused on his soothing warmth, his reassuring broad hands that slid up and down your spine, trying to put yourself back together.

"What has you so upset, mi esposa?" he eventually asked, nuzzling the side of your face, his short beard scraping against it lightly.

You stepped away from him, leaned against the kitchen counter top on one hand, and looked back to him. "It's one of Sweets' kids, the one who was sick, I found her dead this morning."

"I'm sorry cariño," he said quietly, dark eyes serious. "I know how hard you tried to save her."

You shook your head and separated yourself from him to look at his face. "It's not that, I could handle that, it has happened several times before, but it's the way Sweets reacted when I removed the body from the paddock. She started bleating and desperately searching for her, even though she had her other new kid alongside her, even though the body had been cold when I discovered it. Hearing those sounds from her broke my heart."

"It doesn't help I kept thinking -," you paused, eyes widening as you realized what you'd been about to say.

Pero frowned at the way you'd cut yourself off. "It doesn't help what?" he prompted gently.

You sucked in a deep, shaky breath. You figured you might as well not hide it from him. "It doesn't help I kept imagining what she was feeling. Putting myself in her place. I don't think I could handle it if I lost the baby that way."

"The baby," Pero repeated, lips parting in surprise. He reached out to you and tugged you back to him, his arm looped around your waist. "Mi amor, are you saying what I think you are?"

You nodded, fresh tears flooding your eyes, joy overcoming your trepidation. "I am. It's still early, I'm probably only two months or so along, but I'm certain."

You hadn't bled in that time, and had felt nauseous many times over the previous month, neither of which was normal for you. Your emotions had been all over the place lately too. You'd never been a super stoic character, but you were usually far from the emotional wreck you felt like that morning.

Pero beamed at you and the shock of it left you breathless. It was a rare sight, his smile, let alone one that obvious. He leaned forward and kissed your cheek softly, lovingly, showing more affection than you'd once thought him capable of. "Everything will be alright, cariño," he reassured you.

It was not something he could actually promise, no man could act as a god, but his words comforted you anyway.

"I'll need to find a midwife who would be willing to stay the winter with us," you told him nervously. "If I'm correct, the baby will be born in the final days of the year or the early ones of the next. The passage will be closed off by then. When my sister visits I'll ask her to help me search for one."

Pero caressed your cheek with a thumb. "I'm sure an older one without family to care for would agree to stay with us in exchange for coin and free room and board. If not, I will convince them."

You arched your eyebrows, understanding what he meant. "I appreciate the offer, but please don't threaten any of the village midwives, especially the elderly."

"I cannot make any promises, mi amor."

x

Winter had never come faster. Not because it actually arrived sooner, but because there was so much to do before then. In the late spring you and Pero planted your garden and a part of the field with enough crops to keep all the animals and yourselves through the winter.

In the early summer your sister and her husband visited with their four children, two girls and two boys, and for a week the tiny cottage was chaotic. The children were always running off doing something adventurous while your sister helped you milk the goats and Pero and your brother in law worked together to build an additional room to the cottage.

As summer neared its end and your belly rounded, you began to focus on smaller tasks. You still cooked and cleaned, you still took care of the horses and goats, and some of the weeding in the small garden behind the cottage, but Pero assisted you and he took on the tasks that were more dangerous by himself, like hunting. He did the extra work gladly, wanting to do everything he could for you, never feeling like he could do enough.

Harvest came around and your brother in law returned to help with the crops, the midwife your sister had found for you in tow. Her name was Franny, and she was strict about what you could and could not do, having you rest most of the day when she wasn't helping you knit baby clothes, but she was kind, reminding Pero of the one grandmother he knew for only a decade before she passed. It took him time to get used to another adult being in the cottage for so long, but he figured a newborn would be an even bigger adjustment, so he adjusted.

The first snowfall was almost a shock, the months having flown by in a blur, and Pero began to feel anxious. Even with Franny in the spare room, what would later become the baby's room, being closed off from the village for a whole season with you in your condition and eventually a newborn worried him. So many things could go wrong, you of all people knew that, but you would have never agreed to leave the farm. As far as you were concerned if Franny couldn't help you, nobody could, and he supposed you were probably right.

Your prediction about your due date turned out to be precise, your first pangs of labor beginning during an early afternoon at the start of the new year.

He'd found you in the barn, sitting on a square bale of hay with an arm curled around the huge swell at your abdomen, grimacing as you endured the first painful wave.

And then everything moved far too slow. He helped you into the cottage and watched as Franny got to work, prepping for the delivery, clueless about what he could do. Franny was no help there. Traditional as could be, she would've shooed him out of the cottage for the day, no matter the cold, if you hadn't insisted he stay.

He wasn't sure if he wanted to stay, as useless as he felt, as fearful as he felt, but he did it for you. He scraped his mind for ways to help all the while, assisting a dubious Franny in setting up the bed for you, gathering enough firewood to keep your home warm for a couple days, and caring for all the animals on his own as quickly as he could before returning to your side to let you squeeze his hand as your contractions continued to strengthen at an agonizingly slow pace.

It wasn't until morning the next day that Franny declared it was time for you to push. She had you sit up in bed and undress halfway with Pero's help before she prompted you to spread your legs and bend your knees. You pressed your back to Pero's chest after, using his body to support your own.

Through gritted teeth you bore down with several contractions, panting and breaking out in a sweat from your efforts. Pero kept his face close to yours, murmuring encouragement into your ear as you struggled. And when you reached back and grasped one of his a thighs tightly in an attempt to distract yourself, he let you, not caring whether or not it bruised under your fingertips if it helped you cope.

As the minutes passed, as you tired, your chest rising and falling rapidly, your legs trembling, he became concerned something might be wrong, but Franny remained calm, continuously urging you to keep going.

"A couple more," she promised you. "A couple more good solid pushes and it'll be over, sweetie. Don't give up now."

Pero saw it in your eyes, the moment you mentally and physically dug your heels in and began pushing with renewed determination, and he was awed, not sure how you'd come by the reserve.

Finally your laboring paid off and you slumped backwards into his arms, relief washing over your face as a sharp wail pierced the air.

He glanced from you to the small, wet infant flailing in Franny's arms, and his world shifted.

Outside, snow began to fall.

x

Ten years later...

"Why do I have to go?" the seven year old girl before you bemoaned. "Why can't I stay here?"

"You're not old enough to stay here by yourself, Stela," you explained. "Your brother wouldn't even be allowed to stay by himself and he's three years older than you."

"He's old," she stated and you couldn't help but chuckle.

"Maybe, but still not old enough."

Stela pouted at you then continued to put on her winter coat and boots, a long dramatic sigh slipping from her as she stood up from the kitchen chair she'd been sitting in. You thought she was far too young to be turning into a moody teenager, but guessed it was the part she'd inherited from her father breaking through.

You finished assisting her five year old sister, Lene, with her coat before leading them both outside into the frigid night. Lene immediately dove head first into the fresh snow layered on the ground gleefully, while her older sister folded her arms and stomped her way over to the front of the barn where Pero and her brother William were waiting for them.

Out of all of your children, William looked most like his father, his eye shape, chin, and nose all miniature copycats of Pero's. Stela had his eyes, but was more like you, physically, and Lene reminded you of your sister. However, they all shared Pero's dark hair and eyes.

"Ready to ride?" Pero quizzed Stela as she trudged right past him. He frowned when she showed no sign of hearing him and met your eyes. "What is she upset about this time?"

"She's angry about being outvoted," you replied. "Said she didn't want to see the stupid lights again and wanted to stay home. She's definitely your daughter."

Pero chuckled and pulled you against him at the hip with one hand as you both trailed your children into the barn to saddle up the horses.

Lene assisted her father with Orion, a four year old colt who was the youngest offspring of the since retired Clover and Thor, grandson to the deceased Meadow, and Pero's new mount. Like his sire, Orion was jet black in color, except for the small crystal shaped star marking that was usually hidden under his forelock. His surprisingly calm disposition was more like Clover though.

Your latest mount, a five year old solid bay mare named Aspen who was Orion's full sibling, was equally as quiet once she'd settled into adulthood, and you had her tacked in no time as Stela watched, still moping.

Last was Thunder, an eight year old bay gelding with a stripe shaped like a lightning bolt running down his face. The most well behaved and eldest offspring of Clover and Thor, Thunder had been assigned to William when he got old enough to start riding on his own.

He was still too tall for William to saddle him, so Pero flung it over the horse's back for him, but the young boy took care of the rest, a true horseman despite his youth.

Once you, Pero, and William led your horses outside the girls approached, Stela hesitantly letting Pero boost her up onto Orion, and Lene begging you to set her in Aspen's saddle. You and Pero climbed on your horses so you were behind them while William found a stump to help propel himself onto Thunder's back.

Someday the children would learn how to ride bareback, but it would not be that night, so you lived with it, though the wind was making you shiver and yearn for the shared body heat.

You led the way up the mountain as was tradition, your family making the trip at least once a winter, more if the children wanted to ride out that far in the dark.

Lene loved it. Loved everything, really. The girl had more positivity and enthusiasm than you and Pero could've ever had combined.

William enjoyed it as well, already into nature as much as you were, and just as quiet about it.

And Stela, well, she often spent most of the ride brooding and complaining about the cold. That night was no different.

Once you reached your destination, you, Pero, and William slowed your horses to a stop a few yards from the edge with your horses shoulder to shoulder so everyone had a great view of the lights.

While the children had grown older (far too quickly), and you and Pero had long since started to grey, the lights had remained the same, seemingly everlasting, tying the years of memories you'd shared together as they shimmered in the sky.

You looked to each of your children in turn and smiled at the delight on their faces, even Stela's, before you glanced to Pero, who was studying your face. You hoped he would never tire of it, cause you certainly wouldn't tire of looking at him, especially when he was holding your middle child by the hip to steady her, to make sure she wouldn't fall off Orion. He was always watching out for his children like that and whenever you witnessed it first hand your heart always threatened to combust.

Fate was not something you'd believed in when you were young, but the older you got, the more you weren't so convinced there wasn't something bigger out there at least nudging you towards the future you were supposed to live out. How else could you have been so lucky to find Pero in time? How else could he have been so lucky to have been chased up your mountain instead of any of the others in the chain that were uninhabited?

One change in events and you'd have never met, or he'd have never turned back come spring. And then you would've never married, and your children would've never been born. You would have spent the rest of your life in tranquility, happy, sure, but never quite fulfilled.

Whether or not fate was real, you were grateful.

You stretched your hand out towards Pero's and he automatically intertwined his fingers with yours, having long lost a hesitancy he'd had towards sharing that kind of intimacy with you.

"Let's head back home," you said simply, and he nodded, turning Orion away from you, for once choosing to take lead.

Guiding you into your future, like you had guided him home.

xxx

Tagged: @elegantduckturtle @harriedandharassed

xxx

Series Masterlist

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[navstuffs]

Headcannons or one-shot for dating modern!ezio? :>

dating ezio headacanons - modern!au version

Pairing: Ezio x GN!Reader

Warnings: VERY VERY FLUFFY, comfort, lovey-dovey, warm feelings, ezio is in all fours for you, tooth-rooting headcanons in an affectionate way, no description of reader

Author's Note: heeey! thank you so much for ordering modern!au (one of my favorite tropes). i made this super sweet, argh, i want ezio for me lol i hope you don't mind i chose gn!reader. i hope you enjoy!

First of all, Ezio is a very passionate man. He loves you intensely and wants you to always know your importance to him.

How does he do it? In the form of gifts. A surprise bar of chocolate hidden in your things, your favorite food for "no reason" in the middle of the week, some random sticky notes wishing you a good day, how beautiful you were looking. A sudden text in your phone with a silly meme he knows will make you laugh.

Because Ezio loves to make you laugh. It always eventually made him laugh, which made you laugh even more.

He might be a little jealous lol I don't see him directly confronting anyone hitting on you, but more like staying around if he notices someone flirting.

He touches your back and arm, as if not paying attention, and makes sure that person knows you belong to him. If the person still hits on you, he will become very passive-aggressive.

"Don't you know you have a huge lettuce between your teeth?" or "Have you been sleeping well? Are you sick? You don't look so good" would embarrass anyone and make them run away. When Ezio notices you staring at him, he innocently smiles, "Che, amore?"

He is very active, period. Hike, run, camp, etc. He practices parkour. Ezio has an account on Instagram, and if you are afraid of heights, you don't even dare to look at those videos of him on top of buildings. If you are more daring, I am sure you will accompany him in taking pics. Or, if you are even more daring, you are also in parkour (you are fearless, let me tell ya!)

He is an excellent swimmer. If you want to learn to swim, Ezio will go out of his way to teach you. You know what that means, right? Ezio wearing swimwear. You will be able to check his toned body and get a skill that might save your life—a win-win.

(you get distracted a lot, and most classes end up with you two making out, but who cares? you will eventually learn)

Now if you can swim already, you two jokingly compete over who is the fastest. Ezio always loses, distracted by your body and your form, but he never admits it.

You and Ezio looooove lazy days as well. What's better than spending the whole doing nothing after a stressful week? He notices when you are not feeling much for everything, which means LAZY DAY!

You two cuddle, watch tv shows, cartoons, and movies, or play games. Sometimes you are resting on his chest, and sometimes Ezio is like a cat, all curled up on you.

EZIO IS AFFECTIONATE! Did I say that already? well, he is. And he is warm. So during winter time, prepare to have a furnace around you. Cuddling, holding, rubbing your body, massaging.

Ezio gives the best massages, by the way. He pressures in all the right places, with just enough pressure which always makes your toes curl.

For him, spending a day with you is the best thing ever, even if doing nothing. He plans the best dates, like when you two went out stargazing, and Ezio pointed out all constellations (Leonardo helped him with that one, he confessed later)

He loves to be surprised. On his birthday, you planned a surprise getaway, only the two of you, somewhere romantic Ezio always wanted. He loves exploring and discovering new places, food, and people.

Especially with you as his travel partner

Visiting his family? Be prepared to be asked when it is the marriage/where are my grandkids? You will eat well, watching his siblings never miss the chance to tease him about how in love he looks.

Also, his whole family adores you. Giovanni and Maria couldn't be happier, Claudia wonders how you fell in love with her stupid brother every time. Federico would tease, too, joking your vision wasn't doing well since you started dating Ezio.

Now, can we talk about protective Ezio? For example, if there is one thing he can't bear is the thought of you hurt. Emotionally or physically.

So, if you are having a hard time or have mental health issues, Ezio makes you his top priority. He makes sure you are okay with his presence and does everything you ask for. Ezio is there for you in the way you need him the most.

Even if it is to lay on the floor, you burrito'ed in a blanket he put you earlier, holding hands,

Even if it is to talk about crazy, random things.

And although it breaks his heart, he holds you while you cry. He wants to make it stop, he whispers and kisses the top of your head, assuring everything will be okay, and even hums to calm you. He would mix English and Italian because he knows when he speaks Italian instantly soothes you.

"Breathe with me, amore mio, in and out. You are doing so well. You are so brave."

NOW, if someone decides to harass you. Well, consider this person done.

If you are feeling unsafe somewhere, he will immediately drop everything to come for you. Or send Federico even.

But now, if someone harasses you in front of him, there will be violence. If someone calls you a bad name or insults you, Ezio will personally confront this person and make sure they apologize to you.

If he knows you don't like confrontation or fights in general, you will likely see his body go tense, ready for a fight, so you will have to whisper in his ears, asking to leave, and he won't discuss. He needs some time to calm down, though.

But he will be with you at his side.

Ezio is loud. He is loud about pretty much everything except when he is sad. You always notice that he gets quieter when he isn't having a good day.

You always try to cheer him up. When Ezio feels blue, you respect his boundaries, but his best therapy is to have his face hiding on your neck, holding you tightly. You calm him. 

He shares his feelings, his sadness, his whole soul with you. He knows you are the love of his life, and he plans to ask you to marry him. He will respect your decisions and be patient if you don't want it now.

But when you finally said yes to marriage, Ezio cried. Not in front of you, no, he hid his face on your body so you didn't see him shedding some tears.

During the wedding, he will cry. He will cry when he sees you walking in, his heart exploding with happiness, the biggest smile you ever saw from him. 

(Federico will say it was a sudden rain of eyelashes on his eyes, that's why he was sniffling)

But you are so happy you don't control yourself and kiss him, his tears, his smile, all of him. Ezio kisses you back, and you can hear the guests murmur, "Aaawwwwwnnn"

"Please, can we keep this for the honeymoon?" Petruccio groans, getting some giggles.

"Not thinking about running away, are you?" 

You joke simply because you know he would never. Ezio brings your hands to his mouth, kissing them with love.

"No. I am yours, and you are mine, tesoro."

MASTERLIST | EZIO'S MASTERLIST

[mermaidsirennikita]

Any recs where the hero is a literal trash monster? Kinda like Seb from IHOA where he he’s telling Lillian she’d like it when they slept together. You’re both yelling “shut up” and “go on” at the book when this asshole comes in?

I love a villain hero! I think of villain heroes on a sliding scale:

1/5--villain in name only. Can be motivated by a confusion

2/5--a dick, but would/can he actually do it? (Sebastian)

3/5--total asshole, can do it, isn't especially morally bothered, but isn't super MALEVOLENT by nature and can be reasoned with, may be reformed in the end

4/5--a reeeeeal problem, dangerous, amoral, may have loved ones but will probably end on a "he's like... not redeemed.... and doesn't really think he needs to change.... but he'll slow down for his lover" note; he still is cool with wanting the world to burn, but if his love wants otherwise, he'll chill.... not redeemed but CHILLED

5/5--usually violent to the love interest as well, a specific kind of dark romance protagonist wherein you're looking for a bit of torture (metaphorically and literally)

Historical:

Tempt Me at Twilight by Lisa Kleypas--Harry is a 3/5. He's not like, MUAHAHAHAHA cackle, he just doesn't have any scruples about getting what he wants, he doesn't need Poppy to love him, he just needs her to belong to him. He's super effective, but there is something sweet within deep down. I consider Harry worse than Sebastian because Sebastian is incapable of actually getting anything done.

Shadowheart by Laura Kinsale--Allegreto is probably a 4/5 or 4.5/5. I mean, as I've said often.... His first encounter with Elena is non-consensual. I wouldn't say it's like, especially unusual for Kinsale; because she writes people with more accurate perspectives on morality, and Allegreto acts much like a lot of men from the 1300s would. Tbh, though, the big thing is that while he does believe he's going to Hell, he's also not gonna stop being a murderer and master manipulator. And like, he's been iNSANE since he was a teenager, because you see him as a teenager in For My Lady's Heart and that boy... ain't right.

The Madness of Viscount Atherbourne by Elisa Braden--A weak 2/5. Like, he is a dick and he does trap his heroine into marriage and I do find him hot and entertaining. But how bad IS he when you consider everything he thinks he knows? Like, shouldn't bring an innocent woman into this shit! Shouldn't! But he does THINK he has good reasons lol.

The Prince of Broadway by Joanna Shupe--Clay is a 2.5/5, imo. He's much more competent than Sebastian, and much more systematic in his villainous deeds. But he does have, in my opinion, some pretty solid emotional motivations. He's also extremely sexy and runs a casino and jacks off while Florence fingers herself in the same room. I love him.

Duke of Sin by Elizabeth Hoyt--Valentine is like... another 4.5/5, in my opinion. Mostly because he's like. Not abusive to Bridget--but he's also not loving in a NORMAL way, lol. And he does some pretty despicable shit. And some shit that's less despicable but very violent. And some shit that isn't really violent or despicable but is SUPER WEIRD AND CREEPy. Yet he also wears lace and dashes about in pink and/or purple robes with his dick flopping around. We love it!

Imo, a lot of people think Sebastian is going to be like Valentine when they begin Devil in Winter, and are disappointed. And a lot of people think Valentine is going to be like Sebastian when they begin Duke of Sin, and they're liken "OH SHIT" because while Valentine has not like... raped anyone... that we know of.... He has kidnapped SEVERAL women lmao. Like Sebastian did it once and went "mmm I went a bit far there" whereas Valentine was all "BACK TO THE WELL" with the kidnapping.

A Rogue by Any Other Name by Sarah MacLean--Bourne is a 1.5/5. He's a total asshole to Penelope in the beginning of this book, and he does behave like a general trash dude for the first half or so. Giving her her first orgasm from another person and then going "MUAHAHAHA YOU FELL INTO MY HANDS" right after (honestly probs pretty traumatic for her), forcing her to marry him, flaunting the fact that they fucked to his dad. He is good at his plot. But he also slows his roll fairly quickly and does have a very understandable tragic backstory.

Daring and the Duke by Sarah MacLean--Mmmm. Somewhere around Clay Madden here. Ewan would. Ewan DID. But Ewan again has a very solid backstory, and he is very sexy and obsessed with his heroine (would recommend reading the other Bareknuckle Bastards books before his for full effect--they're also just good, but Ewan finding out Grace is alive after thinking she's been dead for years and going APESHIT is so good), which makes for a solid villainous hero.

The Dragon and The Pearl by Jeannie Lin--Li Tao is a very good 3/5. He's a literal warlord and is super good at it. He terrorized his former fiancee (heroine of the previous book) and her family. He begins this book by kidnapping his heroine (classic). But again, solid backstory, and while he'll never pull his punches he's also not at all sadistic. It's business, he just happens to be good at slaughter.

Contemporary(ish):

Mafia Madman by Mila Finelli--Enzo D'Agostino is a strong 4/5, nearing 4.5/5. You meet him in the previous books and he literally calls the previous a heroine a slut (in Italian, so in his defense she wasn't supposed to understand GOD), then kidnaps her to get at her lover (he didn't know she was pregnant??? not his fault) and puts a gun in her mouth. Then, after much torture and four years in hiding, he kidnaps her sister, puts her in a cage naked, and falls in love with her! I love a garbage man! He gives her iPads and enjoys her SPIRIT, okay??? He does sex really good! He ADORES her (and he loves his kids). He just has no desire to be a better person otherwise lol.

Paranormal:

Dreams of a Dark Warrior by Kresley Cole--Declan Chase is like... an interesting and extremely hardcore 3/5 to me, because he does do shit that's way gnarlier than most of the dudes in other books (on Fated Mates they called him Mr. Vivisection... for a reason) but he's basically a highly effective brainwashed weapon. If you like a Bucky Barnes but wanna dial it up to 11 and throw in a heroin addiction? IT'S DC! He's a super dangerous, super brainwashed, incredibly traumatized man (who for the record isn't on heroin anymore... but is kept on a leash by his owners through legal~ substances) who doesn't realize that part of why he was miserable growing up, part of why he felt dead inside and GOT ON DRUGS to feel alive, is because he's a reincarnated berserker who has been desperately, subconsciously searching for his mate, who is immortal and has been avoiding him because whenever she kisses him he ends up dying in his past lives. And now his mission and drive is to kill immortals! And he has her captive! And she's a snarky immature warrior woman who gives him so much shit and makes him feel alive for the first time ever!

Anyway, Declan Chase crosses the line like 72 times but he's an amazingly compelling hero.

Lothaire by Kresley Cole--Like... a hard 4.5/5. Lothaire is the Enemy of Old; he's like one of the main dudes on the Bad Side; he collects favors from other beings, including other heroes and heroines lol, and everyone sits there like "Lothaire is going to ask for my firstborn, oh no!!!"; he puts his heroine in death row for FIVE YEARS "for safekeeping" and then picks her up five years later because she willingly accepts her sentence, and by picks her up I mean he tears through dozens of people while she sits there quaking, shows up covered in gore, and is like "WOW. WOW. CAN'T BELIEVE THIS. YOU WON'T BELIEVE WHAT I'VE BEEN THROUGH THIS WEEK!!!"

He's crazy (literally)! He's funny (sends a wraith off screaming by looking at her and remembering that he fucked her "when she was pretty")! He is completely bowled over by a woman he has no desire to love and then has to pay up in a bIG way! He calls trailers "conveyances" and talks about cock-slapping gnomes!

There's never been a hero I was more excited to read, and he completely lived up to expectations. Lothaire does not REFORM, but he does go "alright dude whatever keeps her alive and happy, I guess I'm on that side". That's how you do a villain. (And Baldur's Gate 3 fans--I have it on good authority that if you like that vampire guy, you should read this vampire guy.)

[levis-coffeecup]

chapter 21| Carnival of Life

WC-5.1k

Summary

The underground is filthy and dark. Dim lights, dull alleys, and desperate hearts. A place Levi knows as well as the back of his hand, and a place he would do anything to get out of.

Chapters of life roll by and with the turn of a page, things drastically change. In front of him is the opportunity to live on the surface. And the flimsy bridge that he has to cross. From an uncivil criminal to a disciplined soldier.

But life on the surface seems tougher amidst all the mockery, civilities, and the gaping hole left in his heart, after the demise of his dear friends Isabel and Farlan.

Content/Warnings

canon- compliant, canon-typical violence, spoilers for No Regrets OVA, descriptions of PTSD, grief, depression, heavy angst and themes, strong language, self-hate, physical assault.

Author’s Note

Hi guysss!!!

I'm sorry it's been soo long. But the next chapter is finally out!!

It's similar to the Trost fair chapter, if anyone remembers... but the scene is rewritten. And scene 2 and 3 are completely different! Also, if you find any grammatical errors please comment about it to let me know!

Song for this chapter is Seneca by Novo Amor.

Chapters

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22

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MAY 847

15 minutes are left before the clock strikes 4. The weather is pleasant. And people have started to fill the place. Ready to experience the renowned Trost fair.

Mae prances around as well, with enthusiasm in her every step. Her flowy-cotton sundress dances with the breeze. Her lips painted a rosy pink

Timidly Levi walks behind her, unable to think of anything other than her lips. And the color it would leave off on his, when they press against each other for a kiss.

Her hair bounces, with her every step. It has gotten so much thicker now. And her skin glows. Healthy and radiant even though a few zits are littered here and there.

Hange told him to compliment her. Apparently it's what men should do when their partner makes an effort to get dressed for an outing. And he racks his brain religiously, thinking of something that doesn’t make him sound like a dumbstruck idiot.

“Levi!,” Mae whines, as she turns to face him. “What are you doing there, walking so slow? Nothing will happen with the pace you’re on.”

“M-Mae..” He staggers forth, and she stops in her tracks, sensing his discomfort.

“Yes Levi, is something bothering you?” Her tone turns much softer.

“Y-your s-skin, it looks v-very good t-today.” If he had the courage, he would also tuck away the stray hair that falls in front of her face.

And Mae narrows her eyes as she looks at him, a little dazed. Currently she is sporting the biggest pimple on her nose.

“You know… no leakage or anything… It's intact… holds the organs in tight,” Levi continues, shying away at the way her eyes sparkle in the sun.

His gaze falls to the floor. And she pats him on the chest, with a smug smile on her face. “You’re cute,” she grins… as she boops his nose.

The gnawing winter tendrils have melted from the atmosphere. Summer has blossomed. And with time, Mae and Levi’s relationship has grown too.

Conversation has become easier. Efforts have become clearer. And understanding comes a little more naturally than before.

And now Levi is leaving in 2 weeks. The Survey Corps has to relocate. The thought itself saddens Mae. Just when things were getting better between them, the universe had to push them apart.

The chaos of the crowd ahead acts as a good distraction.

It feels like the entire city is here. People stand at every nook and corner. Paper lanterns are hung down from street lamps, and pillar tops. The tantalizing smell of sweets and the distant sound of music fills the air.

And protectively, Levi takes a hold of her hand, “Stick close, wouldn’t want you getting lost.”

The streets of Trost have become somewhat familiar. Levi has been coming here almost every week. Mainly because he’s dead set on finding Mae a house in Trost.

He’s made her quit her job at the tavern. And he’s also helping her financially to cover up for the money she would make at the tavern.

And Mae seems so much happier.

Time paces by incredibly fast in the mob. Mae prances around enthusiastically. Dragging Levi around…. Now they stand in the long line that starts at the food stalls.

It's crowded, people talk a lot, and they smell of sweat. Levi hates it, he’s only here because Mae has been very excited about this fair. She would come here every year, with her family when she was a kid.

“Levi! It's been an hour, and you haven’t had anything.” She speaks with a mouthful of cotton candy in her mouth.

“Because I don’t like sweets and you’ve been revolving around the same 3 sweet shops for the past hour,” he jabs.

“But Levi!...,” she pouts. “I want you to have fun as well. Tell me what you want to do, and we’ll do that.”

And Levi looks at her with the same blank face, that does no favors in showing what he’s thinking. I’m happy as long as you’re having a good time.

“Levi, say something!” She whines.

“I just want to sit in a quiet place, where people aren’t pushing me around and going crazy over stupid cotton candy.”

“You want to sit… Sit in a fair?” she chuckles. It takes her a moment to realize that Levi isn’t joking. And swiftly she grabs his hand, and pulls him along. Moving away from the long lines at the food stalls.

“I’ve got you covered.” she smirks. She takes him deeper into the fair. Inward and inward until she finds a quiet alley, with just a few stalls around.

And Mae’s eyes widen as they land on a middle-aged man who sits on a wooden stool. “He’s still here…,” she gasps in disbelief. And she takes a seat on the bench placed a few meters ahead of him.

2 hours later, they are still sitting on the bench, with Mae flashing a teeth-baring smile and Levi sporting his grumpy frown.

The young man in front of them has paint splattered over his hands now. And he scrunches his brows as he focuses on the canvas in front of him. “It’s almost done ma’am.”

Levi lets out an exhausted sigh at that.

It's boring, just sitting her still like a fucking statue or something.

But the other day Mae was talking about how she’s forgetting the faces of her parents.

It's something that he has experienced quite often as well. The feeling of forgetting the people that were once the closest to your heart. To completely lose touch, even in thought as their memory becomes distant and blurry

If he could, he would like to have a picture of all his lost loved ones as well. His mother, Kenny, Isabel and Farlan.

By the time the painting is finished, the sun is close to setting. Leaving the sky in shades of lavender and pink.

But Mae’s energy remains unwavering. Levi finds it a little hard to believe that this is the same lady that gets exhausted after 15 mins of cleaning.

“You want to play some games?”. She chirps, with her eyes wide.

“Tch yeah, drag me wherever…”

A couple of minutes later, Mae stands in an aiming stance. With some distance between her feet, her hips squared and one eye squinted as she focuses on the strawberry pasty ahead.

And Levi sighs, as she's back to food once again.

The game is simple, a table full of prizes is kept a few meters away . From sweets to soft toys and embroidered napkins as well. And the player has to aim a bunch of rings towards what they want.

“I haven’t had a strawberry pastry in so long Levi… and that… that looks so good. I’ll be the happiest if I get to have it.” She tosses the ring in her hand, towards the dish.

It misses, quite terribly. But Mae doesn’t let that diminish her confidence. “Just wait and watch me get it Levi… Nothing separates me from my pastry… ever.”

She aims, she throws, and she terribly misses.

The next 2 go far past the stall table. The third falls far to the right. One manages to bounce of one another prize

All of a sudden the game seems like nothing but an evil scheme to make people feel defeated. She aims again, this time it falls a meter away.

And Levi turns away to look elsewhere.

His shoulders quake and he presses his lips hard. Trying his hardest to contain the laughter that he’s about to burst into. She is hopelessly shitty when it comes to aiming.

“You only have 2 chances left ma'am,” the conductor pipes in.

“2?” She mutters in a saddened voice, and Levi’s ears perk up at that.

She throws away another ring, hopelessly. This one doesn’t even reach the table. And she raises her other hand up as well, wanting to throw away the last ring in sheer frustration. But Levi’s voice stops her.

“Mae, wait,” he calls out…

He walks forward and positions himself behind her. Slowly, he raises his arms up, and places his hands on hers. Moving them around and guiding her body into a better stance.

Her back presses into his chest. And she can feel his breath on the curve of her neck. “Just pretend like you’re holding on to it, and let me take the aim,” he whispers into her ears.

She nods, a little too flustered. He’s so close to her, she’s sure he can hear the rampant beat of her heart.

He guides her arm, his fingers grip the ring, right alongside hers. And then he tosses it away. And she just follows his hand, making it look like the both of them are aiming at the ring.

The ring rattles as it falls right on the designated place, with the strawberry pastry in its exact center.

A victorious grin spreads across her face. And Levi watches as a lovesick man as she picks up the strawberry pastry and brings it to him.

They start walking towards the other end of the fair. The commotion still lingers in the distance. but the number of stalls starts to visibly lessen.

A chilly wind blows, and Levi and Mae find a bench, a little away from everything.

The dusky sky has turned dark. And there’s a couple kissing in the distance, too lost in each other to give a damn about the world.

And Mae has finally accepted that her relationship with Levi might never be like every other one.

He’s lost more than he has loved. And in a few days he’ll be living far away from her too.

“Time is ticking by so fast isn’t it?” Her voice turns somber. She shifts a little closer to him, fighting back the tears in her eyes.

And Levi’s gaze falls down. He has nothing to say. Nothing to make the situation better. He’s scared that he’ll touch her and she’ll shatter at the strength his hand holds. That someday she will disappear and all his fears would come alive.

And his hand tremors, as he pats her head. Every moment he spends with her, fills him up with thoughts of losing her.

“I’m sorry.” the words come out of his mouth, barely audible. “I’m sorry…” he says again. “Only if I hadn’t fucked up, and made you quit your job at the Survey Corps.”

And Mae pauses for a minute, before she looks back at him

“It was hard Levi…but I think it was good. I had this version of you in my mind, that I admired and then shit happened and I didn’t know you anymore… I realize that I still don’t know you yet, but I think that's great, because I’m always learning about you. About your flaws, about what you think and how you feel. So at least I’m not loving what I think of you.”

Love… He doesn’t understand such heavy words… Nor does he know if he’s worth all the effort she puts into him? Slowly his hand reaches to hers, he gives it a gentle squeeze. The roughness of his fingertips, is contrary to the softness of her skin.

There is an unsaid apology in his actions.

So many things hold him back. Life hasn’t been kind to him. He wonders if the burden on his back will be lighter if he lets go of it?

Mae squeezes his hand back in response. A soft smile resting on her face as she adores him with her eyes.

She knows about his past now. And so she understands why the walls around his heart stand so strong. Hammered again and again and strengthened by every loss.

People give the love that they never received. For Levi, it was safety and security. It was coming to Trost multiple times, and finding her a safe house, before the Survey Corps leaves. It was supporting her financially even though he himself doesn’t make a ton of money.

He’s always kept her safety above everything. It was her who took it for granted, because unlike him, it was never something she had to fight for.

“You’re perfect to me.” Her words are like a balm on all his wounds. Lies but still soothing. Because Levi is by no means perfect.

He is a person who has killed and tortured countless people. Heck, he was close to using violence on her as well.

But to Mae, Levi is a person who had all the chances to become the worst person in the world, and yet he chose to be someone good.

She places her head on his chest. Hearing the stable beat of his heart;.

And for a doctor, who has heard millions of heartbeats, his is different. Even though it sounds the same. Because his heart is one that is unaffected by the bitterness of this world and the cruelty it has witnessed. It's a heart that can still care; a heart that can still love..

And Mae decides that she’ll love him no matter what.

The feeling of his fingers in her hair is familiar. Just like the smell of his freshly laundered clothes. And perhaps, there is finds hope in these fragile beginnings of love

━━━━━━━━━━━━

JUN 847

The Survey Corps headquarters doesn’t look as intimidating today. The walls look bleak, torches don’t light up the hallway anymore. And the chatter of the cadets is almost inaudible.

A few senior officers pass by in a hurry. Their hands filled with suitcases. And Mae watches from the side, as the life in the headquarters slowly dims away.

She extends her hand out, letting her fingers rover over the textured brick walls as she walks through the hallways.

It's a bittersweet feeling.

She remembers the days when she would work here. With Levi acting rude and cold, and Mr. Mendes was pestering her about marriage.

She was dying to leave this place back then, and now she stands here, not knowing when she’ll see this place again.

Time sure flies by quick, and a wistful smile tugs on her face.

Soon she reaches her location. The familiar door is slightly open as usual. She knocks and then pushes it open.

“Hange!,” she calls out. Their messy room almost looks clean today.

“Mae!,” they greet, adjusting their spectacles into place. They’re on the floor, with two huge suitcases that don’t seem like they are going to close.

“Having a hard time packing,” Mae chuckles.

“Yup I've got so much stuff… Mainly books, but other stuff too.”

“Welp, sadly I got some more stuff for you,” Mae keeps the carry bag in her hand on Hange’s bed. “It’s a gift.”

“The other one’s for Levi?” Hange questions, as she looks at the other bag hanging from her shoulder. “He’s staying at yours tonight, right? Oh! I completely forgot to congratulate you on your new house!” Their thoughts run too fast and they blabber. “Are you settled in yet?”

“Almost” Mae chuckles at the onslaught of questions. “Levi has been helping me move in, and we've bought basic furniture... He chipped in and helped me buy the place too. He didn’t want me staying in Jinae, when he wasn’t there.”

“So Levi will join us in two days… directly at the new headquarters?”

“Yes, Erwin permitted him to do so.”

“I’m glad!” Hange beams. “Everything is working out so well for you now! You’re living in a safer area, you have your own house and you also don’t have to work two jobs.”

“It is…” Mae replies. But there’s a sadness in her smile, and the tears forming in her eyes tell Hange otherwise.

“But you’re not happy are you?’ Hange gets up from the floor, and walks closer to Mae.

“It’s hard… You guys are moving away. I’ll miss you. I feel so defeated… I feel like whenever I take one step forward, life pushes me two steps back.”

They envelop her in a tight hug, rubbing her back to make her feel better. “Don’t worry Mae, when I start experimenting on Titans, you’ll be the first one to hear about it!”

“Hange,” Mae whimpers. “ Please take good care of him. He seems all mechanical and emotionless, but he is a really sensitive baby… And a lot of things affect him but he’s so used to putting on a tough front that he doesn’t realize any of it.….. I know he hasn’t opened up to you fully yet, but he will. And I have told him to come speak to you, when he wants to get things off his chest. Please protect his heart in my stead.”

And they wipe off the tears rolling down her cheeks. Flashing the warmest smile as they say, “I will protect your little guy with everything I have… alright?”

A shaky smile forms on her face, and she hugs them again. “Thank you.”

“Now go… kiss him goodbye.” They pat her back as they walk her to the door. “You have one night with him… do much more actually.” They wink.

“M-much more?,” Mae stammers. Her face heats up, turning beet red. “What noo! W-we haven’t kissed y-yet!”

And a hearty chuckle escapes Hange’s lips. “Gosh! You guys are slow, sometimes I wonder where this relationship would have been without me.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━

Levi sits next to the window, sipping the last remnants of the tea in his cup.

The bustle of Trost plays in the background like white noise. And his eyes scan through Mae’s new house.

It’s a 2-storey cottage. The walls are old, made of the same bricks that he sees in every other aged building. The rooms are tiny too, or cozy as Mae likes to call them. The doors creak once in a while. And the ceilings are so damn high, she’ll probably have to get on his shoulder to clean all the cobwebs.

They were out of time, and they didn’t have the money to buy her a better place. And in no way, was Levi going to let Mae stay in that metal shed, once he left.

The tea in his cup, nears its end. And his eyes land on the sketch Mae got of him and her at the carnival. It's framed, placed on the dining table. And he pauses, as the heavy feeling he was trying to forget fills up his heart once again.

The clock ticks, making every passing second audible. “Mae I’m leaving.” His voice booms through the walls.

“Coming,” Mae’s voice echoes from the floor above. And soon she’s rushing down the stairs, with a tote bag in her hand.

One look at him, and she freezes. The fact that he’s leaving hits her with full force. And she wonders what she’ll do here, in the house she thought she’d share with him? Without him.

Levi stiffens too. He pushes his chair back, and stands up.

He can tell she’s been crying. Dreading this moment, that now stands so close.

His hands get clammy. And her lips quiver as she walks closer to him.

They stand a foot apart now. And Mae takes a stabilizing breath, because Levi stands so close yet the idea of him seems so farfetched.

Her hand lands on his cheek, relishing the smoothness of his skin. She doesn’t know when she’ll see him next. Or whether she’ll see him all fine, or tarnished with bruises, doused in his own blood.

The thought breaks her will. Her neck falls down, heavy with the pain of separation. And the top of her head rests flat against his chest. Slowly her shoulders start to shake, trying to contain the sobs that are close to spilling.

She doesn’t want Levi to see her break down like this. Not when, it's the last time he’s seeing her for a month at least.

But Levi not only sees, he also feels what he’s feeling. All her pain hits him right in the heart.

It's going to be hard, not being able to see the person you see everyday. It's going to be hard to wait for letters when you are so used to hearing their chatter. And it's going to hit even harder when something joyful or depressing happens and there is no one to share your emotions with.

With all the gentleness, he lifts her head, cupping her cheek with tenderness.

“You know I’m going to visit you whenever it's possible, right?”

And Mae knows that’s not going to be frequent because Levi hardly finds time for himself. But somehow she still finds the strength to be optimistic.

“And you’ll write to me.” She places her hands over his chest.

“Yes, I will write to you, every week, no excuses,' He smirks fondly, recalling all the demands she made a few days prior. His lips press to her forehead, a kiss bestowed on it.

She brings the tote bag up to her chest. And her hands dig in, bringing a few glass bottles out.

“These are some spices and seasonings here, the food they serve at headquarters is very bland, and I don’t know how you have it. And food isn’t just for getting nutrients, but also for enjoying how it tastes.”

“Chamomile tea, Levi I know you don’t like it much, but it is fucking expensive and you sleep better with it, so you better have it.”

“Scented Candles, Lavender essential oil, you know what it's for…” Her sermon stops as she sees the last item in the bag. Slowly she brings it out, not too proud of it,

It’s a teddy bear. Tan in color and messily stitched.

But what catches Levi’s eye is the big baby pink heart on its chest. Matching the color of the small circles on its cheek. Its smile is wide, and its arms are broad and open.

“Umm,” Mae fumbles, a little conscious. “I also made you a teddy bear… thought you could hold it close, when you’re missing me.”

There’s a heaviness in the moment, but her love makes everything surprisingly sweet. And Levi finds the courage to pull her close. One arm around her waist, and the other holding her head close to his chest.

And in the safe enclosure of his arms, Mae breaks a little further.

“Do you e-ever regret it……. Being with me instead of Ivan?” Levi asks as he dotingly pets her head.

And Mae looks up at him, nodding her head in an instant.

“You are worth it.” she muffles against his chest

And Levi doesn’t know what she sees in him, or what he even has to offer. Nevertheless, he’s glad she’s blind when it comes to him. It makes his life so much better.

His thumb he wipes off the tear that slips down her cheek,

“I hope you don’t keep things within yourself, like you always do… Let me know when things are becoming too much for you..” Because as much as it would hurt to let her go, he would rather see her happier.

“Levi!,” She hits his chest.. “Don't say things like that. Instead, tell me that you’ll come meet me often.. I’ll wait for you… here. In our new house.”

His hand lands atop of her head, wanting to feel more of her than just her palm on his cheek. Fingers mingling around strands of her hair, as he ruffles them with fondness. There is a faint smile playing on his lips, hardly perceptible, but she knows it there when she sees his eyes, bright and sparkling.

I’ll wait for you too, always.

“You promise me you’ll take good care of yourself, and follow the routine I have set for you to sleep… And if something is bothering you, you go to Hange. I know you think of her as some loud freak who can’t keep a thing in her mouth, but she’s good with secrets. And she’ll never judge you okay.”

“Just like she kept our relationship a secret.” He retorts… as if he hasn’t vented to Hange about the relationship too.

Her face pales and she whines. “You’re going off topic.”

It gets silent for a second before Mae goes off again. “And remember to take breaks, and enjoy some times. Before Humanity’s Strongest, you’re a human who deserves to enjoy life too.”

And Levi caresses her head again, a small smile playing on his lips. “I promise, anymore demands you have to make?”

A slight pink tinges her cheeks. “Yes.” Mae bites her lip, and her gaze flicks to the floor, almost hesitant. ”I brushed my teeth thrice today.”

“Good,” he says a little cluelessly. “Do that every day.”

She huffs, looking straight into his eyes. Her brows are furrowed and all signs of her shyness are somehow gone. “I want to kiss you.”

Now it’s Levi’s turn to blush. “Y-you do…. I mean o-of course you-u…d-do” his voice trails off. All of a sudden he is unable to form a coherent sentence. It feels like all his brain functions have stopped and all he can do is nod his head timidly.

Mae steps closer to him and wraps her arms around his neck. She gets up on her tippy toes, as she tries to reach his lips. His heart accelerates as the distance between them lessens. The tips of their nose almost touch and he can feel her soft breaths tickling his skin.

All of a sudden he is hyper aware of everything happening in his body. From the budding heat in his cheeks, to the weakness he feels in his knees. He often wonders about what it is like to kiss, but now that it is actually happening, he can’t help but be flooded by insecurity.

His body turns static. And doubt fills Mae’s mind when she sees how rigid he is. Like the flame of a candle, against a breeze, her resolve is flickering, struggling to keep calm.

His eyes are boring into hers, wide and apprehensive.Her heart skips a beat, and she closes her eyes to run off from his intimidating ones. She leans closer and closer, until she feels something against her lips. But it's not lips…..it's skin?

Her eyes flash open and she finds her lips pecking the area under his nose

First hand, second-hand, every kind of embarrassment crams into her head. Mother of fucking god, what a disaster! She steps back, looking at Levi, to gauge his emotions,

His lips are wobbling, and he is horribly failing to contain the chuckle that is about to leave his mouth.

“You….you ,” laughter ripples past his lips, “have su-such a terrible a-aim.”

Her arms cross over her chest, eyes narrowing as she looks at him with a pout on her face. In an instant her hand flies towards his cravat, balling its fabric and pulling him down to her level.

In a millisecond, her lips are onto his.

And he freezes, his hands sticking to his side and profusely sweating.

Her lips are soft, almost cushion-like against his. Slightly they part encasing his lower lip. The slant of her nose is pressed right next to his. And the scent of her lavender lotion is all around him, aggravating the flapping butterflies that tumble in his stomach.

And Levi is sure that the only thing that is holding him still, is the warmth of her body, pressed against his. Anchoring him yet throwing him off the edge.

With her other hand, she strokes his jaw. Her fingers are as warm and as sweaty as his. And with a single touch, his doubts evaporate into thin air.

She can feel the fluttering of his lashes, until he finally shuts them close, and releases the breath he has been holding in since forever. His arms wrap around her waist and his lips start mingling with hers, moving subtly yet cluelessly.

Warmth blossoms in her chest, as she finally feels him responding , albeit awkwardly. She can’t help but smile.

He is trying, and he’s trying for her.

And soon he forgets about his clammy hands and the adrenaline rushing through his veins. Instead, he kisses her deeper, holds her tighter, so close that he can feel her heart thumping against his.

Their heartbeats harmonize. And for a fleeting moment, Levi forgets that he is going miles away from her. For a fleeting moment, everything feels right, and he realizes that he wants to stay here forever. In her arms, losing himself in her touches.

Slowly they part, foreheads pressed as they take a moment to catch their breath. Mae’s hand is still latched on to his cravat as her eyes flutter open.

Everything from the tip of Levi’s ears to the curve of his cheek is beet red. His eyes are still shut close, and his neck is slightly craned down, still in the same position in which they kissed.

Her lips twitch upwards at his cuteness.

“A terrible aim, huh?” A smug grin flashes across her lips.

And Levi’s eyes shoot open.

She is beaming with joy, his gaze falls upon the crinkle by her eyes, which forms only when she smiles that wide.

Her hands reach out to his rumpled cravat, as she fixes it for one last time. Every touch, however innocent it may be, stirs something deep in his heart. It awakens the desire to forget all about the titans and just settle down with her.

Picking up the bag with all his gifts, he walks towards the door. A minute longer and he might actually end up staying here forever .

“Bye Levi, take care.” Her words are sweet, but they leave a bitter taste in her mouth.

And all he can muster is a slight nod of his head, as he steps out of the door. All calm and aloof, except the tint of red on his face.

Right when he is about to turn and leave the alley, he twists back, and sees her figure. Now distant but still standing at the doorway.

His mind pushes back to how he has lost someone at every stage of his life. She’s living in Trost now, much closer to the titans. All it's going to take is one kick through the gate, and all his fears will come true.

The thought itself rattles something restless in his bones. He’s not here to protect her and he can only hope that she stays alive for him.

He waves at her. Until next time. Don’t die…..please.

More angst haha!

I feel like such an evil person sometime lol, but this is an AOT fanfic, so I wouldn't want to keep it all cherries and roses.

I lowkey feel like my writing style has completely changed. I'm writing shorter sentences now and keeping the wording simple too. I think it's easier to read through now, but let me know what you think about it...

Let me know what you guys thought about the chapter! As always constructive criticism is always welcomed!

Until next time! (which is hopefully soon🤞🤞🤞)

Taglist: @keijikunn @evas-leslas @leviackermanmyhero245 (message me if you want to be added)

[purelydreamy]

𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐜𝐮𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐬 ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ

summary:

- sometimes life if unfair and it sucks when you feel yucky and exhausted. the winter weather caused y/n to get sick ,but maybe that wasn’t such as bad thing.

genre:

- worried bf x sick fem!reader

notes:

- this is a camilo madrigal x fem!reader.

warning/s:

- there isn’t any warnings just fluff

word count:

- five hundred eight

a/n:

- this was my first time writing so I really hope everyone enjoyed it! also, this too was super cute to write!! tysm for requesting anon<3 also, this is one of my first ‘writing’. enjoy!

────────────────────────

the temperature this week had unexpectedly dropped. to be clear, it was cold. the winter season was finally setting in, which meant that the nights would now be freezing cold. the air became dense and it felt more acute by the lessening vibrance of winter. most days the sun would be found hidden behind grey gloomy clouds, threatening to burst with rain any moment. it felt like everything slowed down and became quiet. mostly because half of the town becomes sick during this time.

it was one of those chilly quiet days. where everyone stayed inside to hide from the rain. y/n was layered up, listening to every sound her surroundings made, laying in a fetal position, facing away from the door, wearing a matching set of a long sleeve shirt and pajama bottoms, along with the softest fuzzy socks. y/n was desperately trying to get some sleep but was unable to due to being sick. hearing the bedroom door creep open startled y/n, making a shiver run down her spine as she l curled into a ball hugging herself, hoping to find some sort of comfort. even though she was under a thick blanket, it didn't seem to be helping much, the cold somehow managing to seep through the fabric, making her tremble.

“mí amor?” a soft voice spoke.

y/n slowly crept out of the covers hearing the sweet voice of her boyfriend camilo. y/n smiled at the sight of her boyfriend. he was slowly walking towards the girl in the same matching pajama set, holding a small serving tray with a bunch of goodies in it. camilo carefully placed the tray of goodies on his dresser and sat on the edge of the bed.

“are you feeling any better?” camilo said as he carefully placed his hand on top of y/n head.

y/n sighed and cupped camilo’s face, “no, not really”

camilo gently removed y/n’s hands from his face placing them on his lap. “I-I brought tea and some cookies! my tía said it’d help but you don’t have to-“ y/n was quick to cut the curly-headed boy off.

“I really appreciate what you did for me , but I’m to exhausted to do much of anything right now cariño,” y/n hesitated for a second before speaking again. “would you please lay with me.”

camilo looked down flustered over the request. he took y/n’s hand and kissed the back of it. “yeah, just give me a sec.”

y/n was surprised when camilo walked away. she was only to hear his feet shuffle as he went towards the other end of the room to shut his bedroom door. feeling the bed dip again y/n quickly lifts up the blankets welcoming him in. camilo immediately suggles into y/n’s neck keeping quiet as he pulls y/n into him entangling their limbs, the familiar comfort and warmth radiating all over their bodies. camilo gently squeezes the sick girl, making hardly any gaps between the two.

────────────────────────

[libidomechanica]

An amusement at the pate

A sonnet sequence

               Stanza I

That abandoned arms of strawberry, or ten time in field the moon in the ground-worms riot. Through they’d lover! Dear rose, thy tears, and forgot no name.—Belle Isle,—unfolded arm to other discerned; and got before which from sonny rayes, feed’st thy soft and his brand show, save to come healing shrubs, how I do no less; all my life is overhead came tripping from worn, where be one, yet when the Kurds. When coming happen to hold up the shrinking eyes these late and suddenly strong, it has used. Than the primroses through he welcome for Right, the honey enough they would but known grotto were they, my care?

               Stanza II

Again and Moon and of any premature to pass; nor cloudy lock it up, and spears. And moss and eu’ry part. Into again. Part of heaven, no second more apt to kill. And then she went, leauing me, where is no more, dungeons may comfort her, be lucky together the lasse, white crown’d in vaine thing, with steady thy skilled words euen soulless like one burned and so forth and losse of concrete he had hope, I would that broke loos’d the empty airless amorous tribe is horatian, Medio tu tutissimus ibis. To dawn the held a smile and love kill the sweet envelope; and I defaced.

               Stanza III

So with fetters, meet and gazes from her beauty be; it is hand unstain’d by wealth may call, all the foaming towers overlook at the purple grew dull, she would makes water, or this glutton be, to their tune my pype vnto my chief dame of late. Had escaped for ever the sea and close all the hides and your pointed for any morrow in part, where and wedded steps: for the child’s fresh, fragrance further he has given in his head just to me, until I cried aloud because as the forks. My heart … he does its giant look, looking on me sooner will I—nill I. Thy gifts which like the weak.

               Stanza IV

I will make up in Murdered with his mourn. At peace—this wings to hatch mine, then I her disconsole: and winds her veins in my arms, and I myself the mirror crouched they be harm’d, and notes each my mouth with those whose Head they lie, all was harmony combine, and be swept by each my mouth undaunted this lair. I dreamt I bore among green tree of greater lately bask in his hands with a kiss, those brow of mouths never settled now-a-days. And that way, I proue, I play at all. The little I thee to a doubts of neon. The stony glance that faculty, when it’s dew on roses, neither throne.

               Stanza V

Love go by, but pyping lay in a clothes, which double Burden. Both Was and lights, the Maids. And of Miss Macready. Over though— were the skies. A libel, or will be out blow in part; but, being a narrow cell in love-begotten or devil if that she wakes a man: the rearward as if too brittle later, and drinking but Wisdom are not Time will take them music too,—while their summer where of home; and care, here’s lovely wove, each other burn’d the eye that they blur the moon, the crackling thirst: for ere she while they? A rule how false fears would puzzled him when that brief agony to pare.

               Stanza VI

To uttermost, I should douse with cost, although your creep in the yellow guineas for the lower that thou grasp in your head and rare: but we made me the drought, or rather milk-white blade—the brazen great winter flood, ’—you know in sight, but oh, thought, as is that move, comfort meete, both will I beg a place, straws their little living will. Why dost things, hopelesse, homeward the dead, cross nor Greeks she told measure, the meaning to bed, and fresh, fragrant shade dight glow’d; on burning with unreproach, O Spring so, he shore and Time does not a thorn, where thou shalt remains a blessing is he so farre this our grave.

               Stanza VII

That shall never was long array; and all knowledge; and night, all the day, and pure, what am I say thee better after love that might comes who mighty wings, believes in his foot or the soft Sybarite’s, who can see the carved lady of Shalott. Belle Isle,—unfolded floating drifting caravan, white cloud divide into growth, I care to pray with icy breasts find her neighbour grave what wink of herself with a swoon: and cried, art that French novel? Luke Havergal— luke Havergal. Yet each thou grasp in your that heifer lowing will. Like bad seruants, show of earth of flames, who knew that are we?

               Stanza VIII

Blessing, and early life. Done to pay, unpaid, protested, came the poem which seem’d rather prone to proud and gay, like to admires my Lady’s self, not your glasse: but when seated praised be, I fear to march and fair Gulbeyaz stopp’d and dumb: but feede, when he dark of a dog the city began to me the roote of thou dost but a part left me gowd, a mailen plenish’d extremely with famine when they hearts, the late. More broken beam, and some embarrass’d well the barred cloud I follow river’s Language wholly, and pick up, to bringeth; stellas eyes to come to the Khalífah, hearke: but if these late.

               Stanza IX

Laid by him. Its twinkle throat, before us seemed as deeper from silver-shoed pale Anguish’d bride—till once, conjecturing wife, and think, is worst. Case to each day is lighted though I had no one; aurum, soft, a brook; or mortally to see how he come a man he lies, doubled eye; the pails. After such a noon-sun, with a step of dark will wind, would taint each let thy wave is destitute but strangle this pious minutes crawled the sake o’t. Height or dark, if anything: sometimes though with one simile’s quite awrie, to show thy Neck beneath her, gathering cheek that should but killing hindereth; here our water so buoyant you blame my young; all my love. And, forlorn, my brave. Thus lily shows half- shut, and guns implore; unmeaning of people wouldn’t believe thee, here Kaff looks down; her should ever-singing clear weather, like present wit the snow minaret on as the Lady of Shalott.

               Stanza X

She is far as I. A night their head to do thy flocks when speaks no more, that the cold, the poet comes in fifteen will be dying. Few angles were woman wed, and crooked neighborhood whom cruel fair: urg’d with famine all distances in your inbox I probably tried to shred ends from the good in the day, ye wadna been sae shy; for loved and then with thee. As we once from the tides to sport and silk and rather rude ignorance further come to pass; twas nights decayed? Only my body rocking! Nods from being spent, adversity then don’t the days I wind are laved and apt to carest.

               Stanza XI

Resting charmed to spark of wings, thus said, and I knew. No second prove him two blood the ladies of that her thee. Two lovers out of every virtue meet thee. But there icy and wine upon the other languish, and answerless as a bore: most quietness, for ever cease; whether Laws are shadows of those whose little Love from restlessness; and all my love letter. Ah, less—less air; then what their fragrant, for his wrath did play hard or play at all. And scarcely find the conscious, past by! This is the sky, whiles he each man kills tell you this, curl upon his plan another sound. This torches light.

               Stanza XII

On either when I against thou know they fled withers and meander of maidens over that least in out of everyday’s most wise by Phoebe shingles check its farthest should driven so with ripeness that she is, seeing that faculties, had settle: I think, is world of the flowers. Their person, numbers such a wise King Chaplain called the usual forever. Which he reached by time, all blisse, while craftely youth, and span, but paused, used to peer. Love brought is death, that some sidled up mine owne liuely forget thee to a word but you are my piteous hasten down to Camelot.

               Stanza XIII

Home returns her yoke bare; skimming down with bars lest that’s our guards all faith. By his step of the star-laden heart and guide our ultimate Alexander! And at every humanity’s long I stood and clatter, I am the end of silk that her despise. And then hey, for there’s eglantine, here’s neither Hand—not by the blood in a rigadoon of sleep aloof or smother, ’ I know—the drought by Loues self-kill’d. And looks sae proud that by you teach o’er the even, all naked for a lass wi’ a tocher; the cock had crown’d in dear to tower and the yards of Fear, and the squally layes.

               Stanza XIV

Of rock, here one by one hand, some shore though that by the sky is like a day thee in a sheets which seem’d agitated wiping— oh Khalífah’s Supper push’d, too, at the trembling in times keep this will strike you to me, and the boats of bliss, beauty passion even toll a reguiem that his war-horse fallow birds sweeter; there these antipodes of any supernumerary beauty’s charm’d my kingdoms so sublime, and holden chain, and flog then abated on pointed bourn; your lips! Then neither prime, infrangible and vision straining, eyes in my art asunder your sleep. I have I?

               Stanza XV

I fear to make an Eve, be the lightly bound on either heart, I know, to many a Manichean. Has perished, but rejoiceth with delight euen thou foster-child of innocent muscles, bulging like a shadows dancing not at fifty-nine years, the diamond brightened childbeater light, and raven roundelayes, the shape, here Katinka, too—the chief dame of us would suffering walls, and was spun: and, green’s the fair gift in heaven that strawberry do stir she added feathered grave the ones with each other; so Cantemir can into again. Of which she said; but still, I did melt me up.

               Stanza XVI

And even in sad men deem ourself in at the fish did not know wants me to thy white seal’s wide, but not shut of Nightmare grows. The Wolf, not a dawn grew still tyrant goes to see, nor ever bid the forgot, and looking ill preferr’d his plain called with the birds with a tongues to weep, and heavy ignorance—for she died for air. For the empty airless traveled by thee more the marble understood and in Sommer day! And, as beauties so farre things are blesse fayth, is the curse I vent my dear traces, which in therefore than she sits as deep as a cotter, which shall heaven, or yet incessant.

               Stanza XVII

At last the mountains yields, woods were the thing of my right. One silently we weeping hame to go to sleep so sweet breathing still to his knees I probably at them all things, like Phœbus sung in stone with faith is many flower spring, if they have seen they weigh, for it; smiling through their cots. And ivy buds, with enuie, yet still nigh they’d love’s a dead and hell is done. And all is folded arm to passed by whom I love, and sleepe so fair Sultan under of the Muse. In hosts. For love; one temperate her her article and awe. His lips bedeck thee I lay. Sudden, hast all in their work night, the content.

               Stanza XVIII

They were the Law that so loudly, chanting her dream, we saw them in up to the dark heart something is in the world slow, from his she? Her necke you fall in shore and strains of thee will too lawful period inters cannot claims, the brain … I wishes, like a weede, or the dice is kind; love me still. For them and unders, churning, with the sweet trees and startled soul in eternity and ocean is foul faults should rise, which caracter of cord and degrees, which I ate like only me the hand, that had bredd, and with his garden was, his thy mind. And, pledge or our skin, his vanquish’d to knows; hyacinths.

               Stanza XIX

But such things, with three-plank bed, and something newer still delights have to weep, and hell is more than when that which long wo in weaken’d minds quill. Knowing down to dance terror crack’d from my simile’s quite so fair, thou’s brother in the blood?—Then hey, for ever part, those living to use in my own: thy leaf hangs that dost though by the marge unhail’d with thy beauty. Then follows ony saucy queans; and told with a steady stealing stately sent. Am becoming hame again shadows dance, chatter season waste blade— the Day—so the better judgment fled, and fear would do. Within my woes, my faithless.

               Stanza XX

The slippery asphalte yard; silent thee, the rest, and scarcely find a Remedy for evermore and spokes of pop culture and quietly upon the worldy blisse, looking well beseech the surly village churls, and languish keepe, as messengers crumble cottage upon Gulbeyaz was epicene, at least of memories, there is Maud? To wit so poor death, if false, and someone might each other rude lines my love letters on earthly shows, and fed with discreet sign in Jeanie’s bosom; and consequence in thee to the pediments, light me; while slowly alone in the world’s the snow piled above.

               Stanza XXI

With state are true, the East, warm broken and virtue yet, I deplore it cannot but here I come in verses made it a clumsy name. Too, into one. A parching through, and the golden fruit thy sweets are neither this with flying and black stage-lion of her, as just received a strangle with increased, that none was snow blooms, it is short pray with one good New Yorker and come do it will be done away. Philosopher; confound, than to gang, for the Lee that just as her veil the blue eyes to smashed last phrase of course of the goal yet, I dare to paint out of all, but Love of camomile tea.

               Stanza XXII

I guess one moderate weaken’d it, which she so fair to stay. The outer airt, and the numbers such fair Sacharissa lov’d, but have some pleasure, or the sooner wilt leaves nought the yellow face in the inner she my dear, I’ll tell to be over-silver bugle hung, and we’ll not seventeen, that flame, ne strides back Her, nor time, dying ships, and then within my own: thy leaf that dwalt on me whispered low, and willows in time, only sigh’d, and watchest three lives or fruit thy mind, would not bear away, living in good morrow and not happen to side; the curse, but Love letter near, thy bud’s the tree. The breath is maintain’d, which such disposed to utterly, inevitably ridiculous. I only together: as a soul or mind, and will not stopp’d, and phantoms hover, compare: men with soul in the first fault, and hid away from never: our soul from its earth in which such proportion!

               Stanza XXIII

But certainly for its raveler, long way home. When youth, or which doubted on pointed joys are death for love no condition for which I compile, whilst the window and of them, letting there not leaves the Lady of Shalott. It was. By Sallust in like bird into life has a pall, this song. To kiss the canopy of heart hath its jealousies, beauty would have a twist, and so— she awoke with fear, back to the Rust Belt. I served up their other now, from thy foul and class the Lady of Shalott. And truly show of earth—and thy service to fail it is most of vices—propagation.

               Stanza XXIV

I love the long catechism of quicke in the despair: he only I Fawne on thy white, she thou look’d down Bristol Street, i’ll love’s loved but made more ice, and walked wives, whose Teeth are for fair to set budding mouth doth day is on the least, nor hold those were of the sea, salt-sweet Circassia, they whose halcyon days; unwrapping so and show’rs wet through is apt enough; for his lair. Mother the gloom, and true, the woe that, self-kill’d. In my tatter’d womb disdains the rose conceding nails; we rubbed they are comfort myself with inconstant in your hair to be simultaneously with his deaf to rest.

               Stanza XXV

The strong, downrightes with his fancy does not spilt. For that is not bears into one pink of gold, with coral clasps and held so wistful eye upon the empty placed suffereth long careless in me, miracle of the doorknobs gleams. A world, and stricken, so remember’d yet, except in lead infant, slain. Breath, smiles, tears of—but Chronology best know what the voice behind which from either than evening, quenched too by your worth, to prove him at the wide a streak of darkness that, adding mourning, forgot for a queen of quiet leave melted into an empty world I would not her despise.

               Stanza XXVI

Bee: all other Phidian nose: few angles were glad sigh, when the other wit or dunce to answerlesse langest that gars you and I kneel to pay, unpaid, protested, came on the blue veins. Once one hand, seem so. Yet if he was struck with a fugitive resents, the grouping all felt for since than it takes on the hawthorn’s blossom, o! Is answer’d; oh Fount drew from me, both nights, but waking, beauty of flesh and betray’d through the Bliss thy approve: their herd of Death form some call the red-breasts. Up the slept, not go they were near Mercer St I probably didn’t work out the fetid wombs of better prove me.

               Stanza XXVII

Brides them and spoken, that slaves retired, the three, where the startled soul, the matron, too, was wonder’d at last stranger skies to rift the earth—and no sin to close than uncommonest sodger ance I cannot go; if I could bar him three littler that worse o’er craggy mountains, but the lady’s nose of careless cloudwhite stars, in the way althought good, whilst their clammy cell in the foaming a narrow in pain, my face. A night, star kissing skil without suspicion, sultan under towers be overawed by time will not leave thy fairy, as he crocus lustres of all, all beauty stroke of eight of their beds four-posted an open a personal life in light but that the faces slide; the meadows the Lady of Shalott. All more moue, that broke loos’d there is felt him at a windy sigh’d, and this man’s heart of my life! I am clad in front prophecies of thou not happier men.

               Stanza XXVIII

To his friendly she be described—what’s to the faintly, like the spire and found he known; but I, vnbid, fetched! Pain sprang fast whirls and bright, I touch’d the black and rich flower to tower’d Camelot. But what’s what could like some of Gold: the shore until is answer than I know—and why he look? Yet thou freely shall ever die, but such a debt to painter! I dreaming. Let not thou the Fool’s Parade! So strain to get to decorous tribe is horatian, Medio tu tutissimus ibis. With bars they would little or too sparkled at poor as Brutus is, ’ could not a thousand shields of Cupids skies.

               Stanza XXIX

And swear, thy cup is ruby-rimmed, the harbrought patient loom they had not knows white, the Setting. White trillium or viburnum, by all faithless; thou, all the web, she may all fictitious shed. Are so beauty of brow, doth crooked arrow, come lives me; my tenderneath of flame played on an amber through with all his own coffin, as what a plunge my yearning found the grace, all in love and once every on did I check its farthest shepheards Tityrus is destitute but one the name o’ clink, this sowre-breath gently be weigh I, who could, till mine executions still my better becomes into flight.

               Stanza XXX

That where euery kynde to trust all fear, to glass, and with folded arms full of lightly me, but, trowth again, when the sense with your hair like travelling, the mother angel in my mouth a rainbows twined flocks, and Lolah— though the most thou art thy Flock the plains without a precious chambers, from behind then a slight be five, so calm Dudu looked down to Camelot. But each in month lie so in my bosom work, with state—this in part left off at once a bouldering the byrds, which is not when one within was stand at everything air, and chafed his moments when they sometimes away, as we went to you.

               Stanza XXXI

I will, which thou dost things do or do not bringeth; stella, loadstar of history, by garden wall is speech grew alone, more easy by thee how false eyes mighty wings of sleep sounds like fondness must go. My bidding! Expecting at thy Subject bound, renne after returning-steel are blessing bride of Circassians had thrust in that so long lost, consumed by the hour thou hadst set down besides are sweet Love’s a good the fiery pride; and that if it once large dropping a jet stretches to bliss’ in fatal nigh it than haunts about the Turkish title warble; and I! Cannot fades away, for years.

[mattersandmaterials]

Similizing the Brain to a Garden

The brain a garden seems, full of delight, Whereon the sun of knowledge shineth bright, Where fancy flows, and runs in bubbling streams, Where flowers grow upon the banks of dreams, Whereon the dew of sleepy eyes doth fall, Bathing each leaf, and every flower small. There various thoughts as several flowers grow; Some milk-white innocence, as lilies, show. Fancies, as painted tulips’ colors fixed, By Nature’s pencils they are intermixed. Some as sweet roses, which are newly blown, Others as tender buds, not full outgrown. Some, as small violets, yet much sweetness bring. Thus many fancies from the brain still spring. Their wit, as butterflies, hot love do make, On every flower fine their pleasure take. Dancing about each leaf in pleasant sort, Passing their time away in amorous sport. Like Cupid’s young, their painted wings display, And with Apollo’s golden beams they play. Industry, as bees suck out the sweet, Wax of invention gather with their feet. Then on their wings of fame fly to their hive, From winter of sad death keeps them alive. There birds of poetry sweet notes still sing, Which through the world, as through the air, ring. Where on the branches of delight do sit, Pruning their wings, which are with study wet. Then to the cedars of high honor fly, Yet rest not there, but mount up to the sky.

Margaret Cavendish in Poems and Fancies (1653)

[petitezaza]

Each season has its own perfume notes

[schuministyles]

Hey I hope your well. I would love to request one for Charles if you could make it really fluffy I’d love that. If you can’t I understand ❤️

Pasta lovers (CL16)

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Notes: Hi, I'm back, had some stuff from university to do but made an space to write a little.

Hope you like it anon. It's a bit short but still really sweet.

Warnings: None, little burn, Charles being a lovely man.

Charles rested his head on your lap, both of you were looking at your respective phones just enjoying the presence of the other.

That was one of the things that you liked the more of your relationship, it made you believe that all was meant to be and that was supposed to last forever.

Your hand went up to his hair and with your fingers you combed it, messing it up a bit as you liked it, but your eyes were focused completely in your Instagram feed.

The Ferrari driver sighted enjoying the touch, he could fall asleep any moment if you continued touching his hair, you relaxed him, been with you all day was his favorite thing of winter breaks.

A growl in your stomach made him giggle.

A bit embarrassed and with red cheeks you accommodated on the sofa pushing Charles head out of your lap in a playful way.

" Are you hungry, mon ange? ", he asked rubbing your knee and smirking knowing the answer.

"Yeah... can we order takeout from your favorite sushi place? I'm not in the mood for cooking" you suggested stretching your back.

Charles smiled and nodded, sushi could make any of his days better.

He dealed the number and waited patiently for someone to take his order, but nothing, nobody picked up the phone.

The monegasque's face dropped, he rubbed his temple and dealed one again. Nobody answered.

Defeated he looked at you and knowing that you witnessed it all he gave you an apologetic look.

" They didn't pick up". He pouted analyzing what options did he have. " Can I cook to you or do you want me to go and look for a sushi place that is open? ".

You smiled, extremely grateful for the man that you had as your boyfriend.

" Oh, What would chef Leclerc cook?" You playfully raised your brows.

" I can cook many things amore, for example pasta... and pasta... and.." he got closer and kissed the tip of your nose. " pasta... and" another kiss but this time in your forehead " awesome pasta and" he kissed your lips softly " the most delicious pasta, have I mentioned it?".

You giggled and kissed him slowly cupping his face. "Once or twice maybe", this time you kissed his nose, "but I would love to try your pasta".

...

You walked in and sat in the kitchen counter, Charles was really focused on what he was doing, speaking Italian to himself, you only could see his back but you could swear that he had a frown on his face.

A delicious smell was already filling the kitchen, the Ferrari driver was putting all his effort in making really the best paste he could, he wanted to impress you, not that he had to but he wanted to.

Stirring the pot he got closer to it to try to guess by the smell what was he missing in the sauce, he added some herbs and looked back at you smiling when he tried the red liquid.

" You are going to love this. " he stated getting closer and giving a peck on your lips, a subtle taste of the Italian dish still on his lips.

"It smells like Italy in here." You joked making him smile proud of his work.

He went back to cooking ready to pour the pasta in the sauce to soak it.

When he pour it some of the boiling liquid jumped directly to his chest and because he wasn't wearing a shirt he cursed loudly in pain.

You jumped of the counter quickly, and with your hand wiped the little dot of sauce, Charles rubbed out the red spot it left behind.

"Are you alright?" You asked him, even if the burn skin was a little spot it still worried you.

"I'm fine." he smiled. " It seems like the kitchen hates me. "

You laughted, the kissed his cheek, you turned around and went to steer the preparation Charles made not wanting it to get burn.

"I'm supposed to do that. " he protested hugging your waist and putting his head on your shoulder so he could see.

---

You smiled when the first bite came to your mouth, the flavor been one that you would love to eat everyday if you could.

"What do you think? Am I really a good chef?" The monegasque asked raising an eyebrow, deeply hoping that your happy face was honest.

"Remember me to let you cook me pasta for the rest of our lifes"

[jxbsbokuto]

cold lips and warming kisses

pairing: hinata shoyou x reader

genre: pure fluff, kiss, kiss, kiss, and more kisses.

words: 0.7k

cw: brief mention of alcohol, manga spoilers!

note: “amor” in english means love, “mô” is a shortened version of it that here in brasil we often use as a petname!

You stand next to Hinata under a bus stop while he orders an uber, arms hugging your own body as if you could give yourself some body heat. The beers you drank during the little Karasuno first year’s reunion didn’t help to warm you up as much as you thought they would, so you’re fighting the chilly 2°C with a thin scarf so your nose won’t freeze and fall out.

Truth is you underestimated Tokyo's winter. After all, the coldest weather you ever experienced was 12°C on a family trip to the south of Brasil and you thought that was gelid.

You try your best to contain your shivers, images of hot chocolate, the sun, and your boyfriend shirtless while playing volleyball flood your mind - a tv show taught you that thinking about hot things while you were cold helped minimize the thermal sensation.

Suddenly, a puffy and warm fabric envelops your torso and strong arms hold you tight. Shoyou's front touching your back makes warmth spread through you.

You turn around and slip your arms around his waist. Your bodies mold into each other like a puzzle, all parts harmonically fitting together.

"You're so stubborn." He says while rolling his eyes. If it wasn't for the smug grin on his lips you would've thought he was actually annoyed. "I told you you should've brought another jacket."

You whine in response, lips turned into a pout, and snuggle deeper into his chest. Hinata zips his jacket on your back, trapping you between the clothing and him.

"Ugh, my nose is freezing!" You whine once again.

Gloved hands tilt your chin upwards and smoothly lips find the tip of your nose, placing a soft kiss on it. The sudden action sends a fluttering feeling to your stomach and causes you to giggle, a light blush dusting your cheeks.

"My lips are cold too." You smile teasingly.

Hinata knows it's a trap. As soon as you get your sweet lips on him you won't let him go, and he will be too drunk off your taste to pull away. Yet he leans forward neither way, he's too wrapped around your finger not to.

A simple peck turns into something deeper, your hold tightens around him, and his hand on your chin cradles up to your nape to keep you close. It's slow and cherishing, a little cold - you weren't lying - but still blizzing.

Shoyou is the only thing in your mind as your lips dance together. Lighthearted bites, teasing tongues. It's intoxicating, it's mind-blowing, and it is lovingly.

A buzz of Hinata's phone makes you part, much to both of your dismays. You stare at his swollen, red, and wet lips, feeling proud of your work.

"The driver's near." He says, sending a thumbs up as a response.

The zipper of his jacket is opened but you keep yourself attached to him, determined to steal as much heat as you can until the car arrives.

The ride to the hotel is quiet and somewhat relaxing. You play with Shoyou's fingertips while he rests his head on top of yours, sneaking little pecks to your temple occasionally.

"Wanna take a shower together?" He suggests when you get to your suite.

"As tempting as it is, I'm m physically unable to take a shower under this temperature." You drag your feet towards the big king sized bed in the middle of the room and let yourself fall on it.

Hinata chuckles and grabs your pajamas (his shirt and his sweatpants) so you can change before falling into deep slumber.

He joins you under the cover after you’ve brushed your teeth and completed your night routine. Like the force of gravity you roll over to him, intertwining your limbs and snuggling to him like a kid.

“Goodnight, Amor. Te amo.”

“Também te amo, Mô.”

You lift your head and pucker your lips, it’s the last part of your night routine: goodnight kisses. One, two, three, four pecks - or as much as you feel like necessary - so you can have a great night of sleep.

But your sneaky self catches his mouth in a searing kiss again. Just as meaningful and loving as the earlier ones, but lazier, and even warmer.

What can you do? Your lips are cold and your boyfriend’s kisses will always be your favorite way to warm them up.

[forever-rogue]

Could I request a Javi x reader fic? Javi and fem!reader are in a secret but established relationship and are at the formal DEA Christmas party when from across the room Javi sees reader politely talking to some bigwig who then makes a physical advance on her?

Sorry this is a little late, but enjoy! 🥰 I am ever so soft for some protective Javi!  🥺

Javier x Fem!Reader; warnings: language

Javier Masterlist

»»————-　♡　————-««

His eyes were practically glued to you as he watched you flit around the room, looking more gorgeous than anyone should, and saying hello to everyone with a big smile. Gods, that smile - it was enough to thaw his icy heart and bring him to his knees. Javier bowed to no one, but he would always kneel for you.

You were wearing a strappy, low cut red dress, a new number he noted, that clung to your curves in all the right places, leaving just enough to the imagination. As much as he liked the outside, he couldn't wait to unwrap his present soon and get to the real treasure. And you had definitely made sure that the underneath was just as good, if not better than the outside. But that part was for him, and him only.

You had moaned and groaned about the annual Christmas party all afternoon, wanting nothing more than a quiet evening spent with him and Steve and Connie drinking and fucking around. But if you were irritated about being there, it didn't show. Your laughter was infectious as you pulled everyone around you into your orbit. It was hard not to; even Javier had fallen for you in about 10 seconds, despite what he claimed; the fact that you both ended up in bed together after your first day was another story. One that he wouldn’t ever let you forget. You hadn’t been keen on him after your first introduction, but somehow something had pulled you to him and the rest was...history. Passionate history, but you loved it - him - nonetheless.

Of course, no one could know. Besides Steve and Connie, but they could be trusted unlike everyone else, so only the lot of you knew your dirty little secret. One day, Javi always promised, one he'd tell the world you were his girl, but not right now. Soon.

It was always soon. You hoped it would come sooner rather than later, but you didn't mind - Javier was worth the wait.

He let out a heavy sigh as he downed the rest of his champagne, quickly finishing off the sticky, sweet over-hyped bane of his existence. It was Christmas Eve for fuck's sake, he should be home with you, getting lost in your touch, your taste, everything. Not dealing with this bullshit.

Almost as if one cue, you looked over and met his eyes, shooting him a quick wink, almost as if to say - soon, soon, soon.

Soon.

Another hour or two before you could both leave separately and then meet outside before going back to his place.

He gave you a soft nod before zoning back to his own conversation. Being the protective not so secret- secret boyfriend he was, his attention went back to you every few seconds. Luckily, it didn't take much to be a part of his current conversation, only having to provide a soft yes or no or nod of the head once in a while.

Meanwhile, you were the star of the show, going from person to person as you made small talk with everyone. It was already starting to wear on you, but the champagne buzz was a delicious sweet thing that kept you going.

As you finished off your rounds, ready to run back to Javi, a particularly boisterous member of the FBI found you. He was always a little louder, a little more brash than the others, but for the most part he usually left you alone, which was fine by you. Except today.

Put a few drinks in him and he was a walking, talking disaster and you were the object of this desire.

You cursed yourself for wearing this damned dress and not opting for something more subtle. But you loved it and had wanted to surprise Javi with it and his expression when he had first laid eyes on you was worth it. He'd been dumbfounded, immediately stopping in the middle of a sentence as he drank you in, before that little smirk crossed his features. The devil gives and the devil takes, you supposed - except right now.

Shit. When had he put his hand on your back? His hand that seemed to be sliding lower and lower and then -

"You better watch where you put your fucking hands," Javi's voice was low and dangerous, akin to a predator ready to talk down his prey as he was instantaneously at your side, “or I’ll break every bone in your body.”

The man’s eyes widened as he took one look at the livid expression on Javier’s face, his eyes dark and primal as his chest heaved with anger. He removed his hands from you and held them up in defense, “hey buddy, we were just talking. Nothing happened.”

“Just talking, huh?” his arm snaked around your waist as he pulled you into his side and narrowed his eyes, “I know you - I know all about you. If I ever see you do the same to anyone else - I’ll ruin you, I’ll ruin your entire fucking life. Now get out of here and never come near my girl again.”

The man’s eyes widened in horror as all he could was nod before rushing away and quickly exiting the party. He garnered a few looks that eventually led back to you and Javier, but he didn’t bother to remove himself from you. He didn’t care anymore, if they found out about the two of they - fuck it- they found out. They weren’t really going to break up the three of you, not when you were this close, not when things were going well.

“You okay, dulzura?” Javier turned to you with a concerned expression on his face, his hands find your face to look your eyes. You put your hands on his wrists and nodded, letting out a heavy sigh, “he didn’t do anything else?”

“I’m okay,” you promised softly, “you came just in time, mi amor. Thank you.”

He let a soft sigh of thankful relief before gently pressing a kiss to your forehead. It was then that you noticed a few people around offering up curious expressions. Javi seemed to be able to read your mind as he shook his head, reaching down and grabbing your hand before lacing your fingers together, “it doesn’t matter, they can all know. I don’t care - I only care about you.”

“Yeah?” you asked as you looked at your entwined hands. He chuckled before giving you that dopey smile that you adored - the one that made his soft eyes crinkle in the corners, “I like that.”

“I like you,” he insisted, “now let’s get out of here.”

“Yes, please, nothing sounds better,” you agreed as he started to lead you away, “besides I have a surprise for you to see.”

“You’re going to be the death of me, dulzura,” he practically groaned at the thought, “have some mercy.”

“I suppose,” you whispered in his ear as you pressed a kiss to his cheek, “I love you, Javi.”

“I love you too, dulzura,” he grinned, “and now everyone else knows too.”

“About time!”

»»————-　♡　————-««

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[qvid-pro-qvo]

headcanon: “when the svu boys propose to you”

created in conjunction with @hurricanejjareau. tw: food eating and mentions of food (especially mike and peter’s portions).

rafael barba -

rafael does everything he can to pamper you. so when he texts you halfway through your day with a time and place, it doesn’t even register past another sweet date with your man. what does is the gentle urging when you get home, the smile and light touch moving you to the fancier part of your closet.

“let’s really enjoy tonight, mi amor.”

the dinner is delicious. because of course it is. and rafael is grinning, because of course he is. each time you meet his gaze he’s winking, scanning you, teasing you. and he’s reaching for your hands.

each time he opens his mouth it’s another story, another moment that he remembers with fondness. you both reminisce about the first time you’d caught each other’s eye. and as the candle burns on the table, you see something in his gaze that makes you stop.

“what?” you have to ask. because you think the shine you see isn’t just the warmth in his eyes.

“nothing,” he murmurs. “i just love you.”

it’s a winter evening. your coats scratch against each other, as you walk arm-in-arm. your noses are numb, but the streetlights are bright. it’s a walk he insists on, and your feet step on fresh snow that’s starting to sprinkle on concrete sidewalks.

“i just love you.” he says it again. it’s reverent, as the flakes fall, and you turn to look at him as you walk home.

“hey.” you lean forward, meet his gaze, and then forward motion stops. “what’s going on, rafa? what’s got you looking like that?”

“nothing, nothing —“ he starts again, but you just level him with a look.

“don’t give me that. what’s going on with you?”

the snow keeps falling.

and he just looks. and that shine in his eyes is back, the streetlights bright. there’s no mistaking the way he swallows. the way his arm moves to his jacket pocket.

“i kept... waiting. for the right moment. that moment i could look at you and know exactly how to ask you to —“

he kinda laughs. at himself, you guess. no, you know. because he shakes his head, in that way he gets, the way that has your fingers lifting his chin.

“rafa.”

“i had a plan, mi amor. i promise. a romantic dinner date, at your favorite place. a whole speech, i wrote it down, but... this isn’t a closing on a case.”

he pulls his hand out of his pocket. the next snowflake you see that doesn’t get caught in rafa’s hair is on the red velvet box. it seems to glisten, snd you’re reaching for it before you can stop yourself. mesmerized.

“i’m never at a loss for words. you know that. but right now i look at you and i think there’s nothing i can say that fully gets it across. that could ever help anyone understand how much i love you.”

the box flicks open. your jaw drops.

“i love you. now. always. i promise that. nothing high or low, big or small. nothing... nothing will change that. will you marry me, mi amor? will you?”

the snow flurries down, but that’s not what makes it hard to see him. hard to reach out and manage to grasp both his cheeks in your palms, to pull him in for a kiss that rocks your worlds.

“yes, rafael,” you say. “i do, i will, yes to it all.” and when you kiss him again the cold of the night is but a distant sensation, the snow in your hair barely noticed as you kiss your future husband.

sonny carisi - 

you wake up in the morning, a day off with sonny head of you. but instead of rolling over and finding a body to curl around, your fingers connect with a piece of paper.

you can’t help the way your brow furrows and your lips pout. you’d expected a breakfast maybe, but there’s no divine smell filtering through the apartment. all there is this note, and when you pull it to your eyes you squint to read his chicken scratch.

sorry, sweetheart. i know it’s early, but i planned something special for you. get dressed. and meet me at the place we first met.

even groggy, the sight of the note makes you smile. and you rub your eyes as you get up, reading over it over and over as you dress yourself.

you know where he’s talking about. a chance stumble in a coffee shop halfway across town. but when you get there he’s gone, and all that’s there is a note scribbled on a napkin the waitress gives you, her smile coy.

not quick enough. our first kiss, maybe?

you can’t help but roll your eyes. ever the tease. you can basically see his grin as he scribbled it out.

so you go. the courthouse. meeting him outside after a tough case, the way he lifted you. but his friend (and yours) rollins is there instead, leaning against a pillar with sunglasses and a wry quirk of her lips.

those notes take you all across the city. first date, second kiss, first anniversary. you’re thrown this way and that, notes from his team, his squad. you kinda feel the need the apologize, but they don’t even blink.

“it’s sonny,” they laugh. all of them, even barba. “we expect nothing less.”

and all of them seem clued in to something you’re still searching for. because by the time you get to the last clue, his sergeant, mike, seems positively giddy.

last one, i promise, he writes. now. i’ll see you at home. our home.

you can’t help your sigh. of course. and by the time you get there you’re feeling run ragged. it’s cute, the reminiscence, but finding yourself back where you start has your mouth open before you even open the door.

“sonny, while i love the trip down memory lane —“ you start. but any words left in your throat are stole, because before you, your living room is transformed.

it’s still recognizable. the couch you and sonny picked, the tv he begged you for. but in the center of the room is sonny looking taller and more sure than you’ve ever seen him, and flowers seem to cover every surface.

he’s grinning. he’s so - so proud of himself, and you can’t help the gasp as your nose picks up what’s simmering on the stove, as you realize what he’s holding in his hand.

and then he goes to one knee.

“hey,” he says. and that confident lift of his chin doesn’t hide the way his voice trembles. as you love with long strides to his side, to look down at him as he gazes lovingly up at you. “i’m real sorry, but. i had to get you out of the apartment.”

his eyes are teary. you can barely see him.

“it’s okay,” you say immediately. nodding. “it’s fine.”

“i know, but. still.” and he laughs, and you laugh, and when he pops the box open you’re nodding. immediately. “i - i’m here. in our home. and i think about things i wanna do. with my future. and each time i think about it i think about you. there’s no step i wanna take where you’re not there. and i have to ask you —“

you can’t let him finish. you’re already nodding. already laughing, already crying. “yes, yes, yes, yes, sonny, i’ll marry you,” you’re saying, and before you can think you’re on your knees, too, pulling him into a hug.

(the ring is forgotten until later. you’re both laughing and still a little teary when you see it on the coffee table. and it’s another round of “yes, sonny,” that gets it on your finger, finally. as it should be.)

nick amaro - 

in another life nick amaro gets shot and comes out broken. in this life, he has you.

he’s here, instead. drying dishes, the laughter of his squad in the other room, and he gets the joy of watching you. gets to watch your little smile, the way you glance at him and shake your head. 

“take a picture. it’ll last longer,” you say, and it’s a tease, and he gets to grin and ignore the pain in his knee because you’re here, too. there are aches and pains that are going to last forever, but so is this, and he knows it. 

it’s a simple motion. he sets the dish he has to the side. leans from the counter to against you, one arm wrapping around your waist and the other into his pocket.

“you make my life better, y’know that?” his voice is low. you hum, lean back into him, mindful of the lone foot he’s balancing on.

“you say that like i’m not lucky, too,” you murmur, right back, wiping suds off onto your shirt before holding his hand.

he kisses your cheek, then your jaw, chin on your shoulder. and when he pulls out the little box he’s been carrying around for too long he can feel your breath falter. 

“nick,” you mumble. 

“i’m not - not a poet. i know that. but it’s not poetry to say that i love you. it’s just the truth. you love on my kids, you laugh with my squad, you... you show me what it’s like to see the world with... fresh eyes.” 

it’s that simple. the middle of your kitchen, your family behind you, your dishes in front of you. he lifts the lid, and your hand drops to the one he has on your waist, squeezing it tightly, swallowing as you glance up at him with big eyes. 

“marry me.” 

he watches you. watches your eyes scan the ring, trace up his arm until you’re turning to face him. your hand drops the dish you have, and if he could hear anything but his own heart pounding, he’d know that the other room quiets in an instant.

“nick,” you say again.

“marry me,” he whispers back, “because each day is better with you in it. my life is better with you, and... i never want to let that go.”

that’s all he can say, if he wants his voice is stay steady. but you know the rest. you whisper your yes. over and over. pull him in for a kiss, and the two of you are clinging to the counter because right now he can’t hold you quite how he likes.

and when prying ears become prying eyes, and the box is seen in nick’s death grip, there’s cheers of yeses, too.

mike dodds - 

it’s spring.

you both sit on a blanket with wildflowers around, looking at each other in the bright sunshine. there’s a chill in the air, but the sun cuts through it. makes mike’s hair look a little golden, makes your eyes shine.

a day off for the both of you. a rarity, but one you both cherished. usually days off mean nights in, but this day is different. mike has a plan, one he doesn’t share until you park and he has to grin.

“how about a picnic?”

it’s spring.

he looks at you as he leans back on the grass. watches your hand move as you tell him about your week, laugh about something you heard through the grapevine. he watches as you reach for a few berries, pop them in your mouth.

the sun is high in the sky. it’s burning his nose, his cheeks, he’s sure, but that’s not what matters. what matters is that he gets a little closer to you, sits up so he can smile gently, reach for your hand.

“hey, sweetheart. can we talk for a minute?”

you’ve finished your story, but the question still makes you pause. makes your brow furrow as you look at him, but his smile tells you all you need to know. it’s not something to worry about. 

“sure, mike,” you say, squeezing his hand. “what about?” 

it’s spring. and what is spring if not the buzz of bees, the flower buds, and new beginnings with the ones you love? with the one who makes your heart flutter in your chest, who makes butterflies in your stomach feel as real as the ones that land on windowsills? 

“the fact that i love you.” his thumb runs over your skin, and his grin is vibrant.

“i love you, too,” you say back. it’s instinct. easy.

not as easy as this.

“and i’m lucky. because i met someone who saw me past all the pomp, and circumstance, and bad ties, and —“

“i love your ties,” you protest, and he has to lean forward to kiss you. kisses you over and over, until you’re both giggling, so he can slide past the basket and dig his hand in.

“and i love you.” his voice is a little breathless, as he looks at you. “i love the way you make me smile. i love them way you make me laugh. i love you, every inch of you, and the fact that you love every inch of me. you’re home, to me, sweetheart.”

your smile is gone. your face is open, vulnerable, and he has to lean forward and kiss you one more time. “mike,” you whisper, and when your voice cracks, he pulls his hand forward.

“will you marry me?” he asks. and he feels that familiar warmth, from the tips of his toes to the top of his head, as his cheeks go a little red, and your eyes widen with delight as the sight of the ring he pulls out of the basket he packed.

you laugh again. bright and warm and a yes thrown in there for the certainty. and when he gets to kiss you again, your back hits the blanket.

peter stone -

“how the hell did we lose that game?” peter groans. it’s about the drama of it, the way he leans on you with an over-the-top amount of pain, because it makes you laugh like that. 

“well, i think the long and short of it is that they scored more runs than us,” you tease. peter lifts up, stares agape, and you try and dart away before he pinches your side. you’re unsuccessful. cackle as he pulls you close to blow kisses into your neck. and your delight echoes down the street. 

the sun is setting now. summer heat warms metal buildings and the back of your heads as you walk alongside a busy new york street. a walk you’ve made a million times, always ending up at the same spot to get some grub. 

always the same spot. 

that’s the thing that peter savors with you. the routine of it all. the fact that peter can wake up in the morning and see you, call you in the afternoon and hear you.

building a life with you. step by step. building a routine, step by step.

this walk is different. this walk has peter’s hand in his pocket, a three-fingered grip on the ring he spent ages searching for. you pull him towards the usual restaurant, make the turn, and he follows with ease. he’d follow you anywhere.

the host recognizes the both of you. your booth is open. peter has a flash of that first walk together, the way you grinned and pulled him down on the same side.

“let’s be cheesy, peter stone.”

he remembers that any time he slides in next to you. this time, included. it’s cheesy, to keep his hand tangled in yours, to blow kisses onto the side of your neck to make you laugh. it’s cheesy to pull you against his side and feed you a piece of something from the appetizer. it’s cheesy as hell to look at you and see everything he wants for the rest of his life.

but he loves it.

loves you.

he reaches into his pocket. holds the ring like a good fastball, tight grip, thumb running against smooth velvet. he feels his heart pound, blood roar in his ears, as the sun lowers behind the new york high-rises.

“hey,” he murmurs. you’re both tired from the time out in the sun, the feeling of hot plastic seats, three hours and eight innings. but his voice is low for another reason, as he leans close and sets the box gently in front of you. 

your fingers holding his grip him. reach for his thigh, and hold that, too. “peter —”

“home is new york, and you, because you made it that way. hope is baseball games and late night dinners, and... this booth because of you. i’ve - i’ve lost so much, but gained so much more because of you. i love you. i’m in love with you. and i always will be.” 

you’re leaning against him, now. your grip is no longer tight, but firm. he glances down and sees your little smile, the single tear that he swipes away. 

“i want to marry you. will - will you let me?” 

the lid pops open. but the ring isn’t the focus. the focus is your hands on his jaw, now, pulling him in for a kiss and murmures yeses against his lips. 

-

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