Okay Y’all I Rewatched The Hunger Games In Like A Really Long Time And My Feelings For Both Peeta And

Can u pleaseee write something about reader comforting finnick after he was sold to a customer for a night? Because he doesn’t deserve that and I love him so very much

here it is i kind of combined it with another request but i hope you like it 💕💕

Hii! I hope you’re doing well!

Could you do reader fixing Baku’s bruises after he got in another fight with the union members, could it also be romantic?

Taking care of you

Pairings: Park Humin (Baku) x Fem!Reader

Summary: After a fight, you patch up Humin and a quiet kiss reveals what words never could.

Warnings: violence, injuries

A/N: Hii! Yess I’m doing good. I hope you like it 🫰🏻

The air was thick with heat and leftover adrenaline as Park Humin stood alone at the edge of the alleyway, his shirt collar torn, fists scraped raw, and blood dripping from the corner of his mouth.

He didn’t look at the three guys groaning on the ground behind him, Union members, the usual type that thought they could outnumber him and win.

They didn’t.

But they did a hell of a job trying.

Humin exhaled slowly, like his breath was trying to keep him upright. His jaw clenched as he rolled his shoulders back and stepped into the weak glow of a flickering streetlight, head bowed slightly. His knuckles were red and cracked, a cut just beneath his eye swelling into a bruise already turning a violent shade of purple.

And then he saw you.

You had been searching for him ever since you heard whispers in the school hallway, something about Humin getting into it again. Another fight. More Union dogs barking up the wrong tree.

“Park Humin,” you breathed, and the name came out sharper than you intended.

He flinched a little at your voice, not because he was scared, he never was but because of the disappointment laced in it.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he muttered, trying to walk past you.

“Too bad,” you snapped, stepping in front of him. “I came anyway.”

His gaze dropped, his lashes low over his dark, unreadable eyes. “I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.” You grabbed his wrist and yanked it gently. “Come on. You’re bleeding.”

He hesitated. “It’s not—”

“Now, Baku.” The nickname rolled off your tongue like a scolding mixed with concern.

He sighed through his nose but followed you. Maybe it was the weariness settling in, or maybe he knew there was no point arguing when you looked at him like that.. like he wasn’t just a fighter, or a problem, or a bruised set of fists, but something worth being worried about.

He sat on the edge of your bed, hands resting on his thighs, bloodied knuckles twitching now and then. You knelt in front of him with the first aid kit cracked open between you.

You dipped a cotton pad in antiseptic and reached for his face.

“Hold still,” you murmured.

He didn’t move, but his eyes locked on yours. There was something in them that you couldn’t quite name, tiredness, maybe. Regret.

You dabbed carefully at the cut below his eye. He hissed, jaw tightening.

“Still think you’re fine?” you asked, voice quieter now.

He didn’t answer.

You worked in silence for a while. His skin was warm under your fingertips, even bruised and battered. You tried not to notice the way he watched you, or how the dim light made his features look softer, vulnerable in a way he rarely allowed himself to be.

“You didn’t have to fight them,” you said finally.

His lips twitched, almost a smirk. “They started it.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to finish it every time.”

“I’m not letting them get away with shit.” His voice was low, raw. “Not after what they’ve done to us. To the others.”

You knew what he meant. The Union had left more than bruises on everyone. You, Sieun, Gotak even Juntae none of you were untouched. But Baku… Baku took it personally. Every threat, every insult, every blow, it fueled something in him that wouldn’t rest.

Your fingers hovered over a bruise along his cheekbone. You hesitated, and then finally whispered, “I just don’t want to see you like this again.”

His gaze dropped to your lips. “I know.”

You finished wrapping his knuckles and leaned back, resting on your knees. “There. You’re patched up.”

He looked down at your hands, still hovering near his. Then, slowly, he laced his fingers through yours.

Your breath caught.

He didn’t say anything, not right away. The silence stretched, thick with something that had been building for a while. Unspoken things. Careful glances. Unnecessary risks taken just to protect each other.

“Hey,” he said quietly, thumb brushing your knuckles. “You know I wouldn’t lose, right?”

“That’s not what I’m afraid of,” you murmured.

He tilted your chin up with one finger, his touch impossibly gentle for someone so often wrapped in violence. “Then what?”

You looked at him, really looked at him. At the pain behind his smirk, the bruises trying to heal, the boy who fought everyone else so hard he forgot how not to fight himself.

“That one day you won’t come back.”

The tension broke like glass. He pulled you close, not with force, but with the kind of need that had been waiting for permission. His forehead touched yours, his breath warm against your lips.

“I’ll always come back to you,” he said.

And then he kissed you.

It was slow at first, almost cautious like he was afraid he’d break you too. But you didn’t pull away. Your hands found his jaw, rough and warm beneath your palms, and he deepened the kiss, tilting your head just so.

It wasn’t a fairytale moment. His lip was split. Your hands trembled. There was blood on his shirt.

But it was real.

When you finally pulled back, both of you breathing a little harder, he rested his forehead against yours again and let the silence speak for him.

You didn’t need him to say the words yet. They were in the way he kissed you like you were the only safe thing in his world. The way he let you clean his wounds. The way he looked at you like you made the fight worth it.

“Stay,” you whispered.

He smiled faintly, eyes closing. “Always.”

literally tho i’m having such an annoying writers block 😭 but i’m working on right where you left me part three anyway ;)

ugh i wish writing was so much easier *SIGH*

I was wondering if you could make a Gotak scenario if you have time. His shy gf has insecurities about not being experienced in dating since Gotak is her first boyfriend. It could be something she bottles up and she eventually tells him her insecurities and feeling like she's not doing enough when she's feeling down. He could like shut her up with a kiss and basically try to get rid of her insecurities.

I’m SO in love with this idea ?! Omg!! Here let me write this for you

I love you just for you - GOTAK

The two of you are curled up together on the couch, your favourite way of spending the afternoon. He’s got his arm around you, thumb brushing over your shoulder, you’d usually enjoy this moment the most you could but this time you simply weren’t able to. Your thoughts are far away, and heavy.

You’ve been quiet for a while now, and he’s noticed. He always does.

“Hey,” he says gently, turning slightly to look at you, his brown eyes searching your face. “What’s on your mind?”

You hesitate. It’s hard to explain, it feels silly, even. But it’s been building in you for a while, and now that he’s looking at you like that, so open, so genuinely caring, you can’t hold it back anymore.

“It’s just…” You exhale, fingers fidgeting with the edge of your sleeve. “I feel like I’m not good at this. Like I don’t know how to be the perfect girlfriend. You’ve always been so good to me and everyone but I really don’t know how to give it back to you”

His expression softens immediately, and before you can say another word, he reaches out, cupping your face with both hands like you’re the most precious thing he’s ever held.

“Stop,” he says, gently but firmly, a smile playing at the edge of his lips. “Stop thinking that.” His lips curve into a soft smile, looking at you in adoration

You try to look away, but he leans in, brushing his nose against yours, a sweet and caring gesture. “You’re already perfect in my eyes, that’s more than enough.”

You open your mouth to protest, but before a single word can escape, he kisses you, soft, slow, lingering. Like he’s trying to press all his reassurance into you without needing to say another thing. Both of his hands holding your face still.

When he pulls away, he gives you the same eyes he always gives you when he’s so grateful of you

“Loving you isn’t about you ticking boxes or knowing all the right things,” he whispers. “As cringy as it sounds, I love you, for you.”

Your eyes sting a little, and you laugh through the tears starting to form. “You’re really good at this, you know.”

He grins, nudging your nose again. “Yeah, but I’m only good because I’ve got the best person to love.”

This side of Gotak is only for you to see, and it really does comfort you.

MY MASTERLIST

smth involving a poly relationship w peeta and finnick. sfw or nsfw 😁 tysm ♡

hiii i’m so sorry but i don’t write poly relationships :( mostly because im not experienced and i really don’t know how to write them 😔 so maybe you can go to another writer with this bc i have a feeling that even if i do write it i won’t do your request justice

i hope you still have an amazing day

my testweek has started today so i won’t be posting for a week or so. after my testweek ends i’ll start with writing and posting again!! also my requests are open so if you ever want to send a request or just interact, you can!!!

have a great day/night 🫶🏼

Are u dutch(since you said testweek)?

hii anon, yes i am actually lmao i hate it here sm ngl 😔 but are you too?

also i love when you guys interact with me 😚

pairing: trent alexander arnold x femreader

summary: you had been away on a trip for a few weeks but decided to come home earlier to surprise your boyfriend [wc: 1,8k]

genre(s): established relationship, straight-up fluff

Three weeks. That's how long it's been since you had seen your boyfriend. When you first told him about the trip more than 2 months ago, it wasn't that big of a deal. If anything Trent was urging you to go, saying that you deserved the time off and that he'd be fine by himself. You were reluctant at first, considering that you'd be gone for an entire month and that seemed a bit too much but be wouldn't budge.

"I'll come home a bit earlier I promise. There's seriously no reason for me to be gone for more than two weeks," you said, leaning back on the kitchen counter as you watched Trent rummage through the fridge.

"Just stay the full month baby, I'll be fine." He halted his rummage fest and turned to look at you with his eyebrow quirked and a smile. "Or do you think I'm incapable of being left alone?"

There was a moment of silence that passed to which he let out an amused scoff. "You're joking right?" He took a few steps closer, causing you to tighten your grip on the counter with a suppressed smile but avoiding his gaze at all costs.

You didn't think he was incapable of being left alone. He was a grown man and knew how to handle himself, but there were times when you wondered what was going on inside his head.

He was standing in front of you now, his hand snaking around your waist ever so slowly while the other tilted your chin up to look at him. Of course, he was smiling, he knew the effect he had on you all too well and made sure to use it to his advantage when needed. "Go on the trip, okay?"

"But I'll come bac--"

You were cut off with a quick peck on the lips, and then another on your cheek, and another on your forehead and another on your nose. By now you were a giggling mess, trying your best to find the strength to put some distance in between the two of you but Trent wasn't having it until you finally gave in with a reluctant sigh.

"Yes I win!"

Oh, he won alright because even at the airport when he sent you off he practically had to drag you out of the car and to the boarding gate. You met up with your friends the second you got there but never left your boyfriends side until it was time to go.

"Remember to separate the laundry- red and white should not be together at all baby. We don't want a repeat of last time," you instructed hastily and Trent nodded his head obediently as if he hadn't heard the same lecture over and over on the drive here.

"You know what just take it to the dry cleaner, it's less of a hassle."

"Okay now--"

You cut him off once again, "And make sure that you lock the doors properly, and call Jude if you need anything."

Yep. He was undoubtedly going to miss this.

"What am I saying?" you groaned in complaint and put your palm to your forehead. "Do not call Jude. He should be the last person you call if you need something important."

Trent couldn't help but laugh as he watched you endearingly, and truth be told he could watch you watch paint dry and never get bored. He knew how worried you were to leave him alone, it was the longest you two were going to be apart since you started dating 3 years ago.

So he never minded your little episodes like this whenever either of you had to leave because it was out of love and your genuine fear of him burning the house down. And it took a bit and the death stares from your group of friends to get you out of his embrace.

"Good luck with your matches okay? I'll be watching so don't mess up!" You yelled out to your boyfriend who was a blushing mess when everyone decided to turn their attention on him.

He was just about ready to leave when he saw you enter the gateway, the smile still on his face but the second he turned his back he felt a pair of arms grip around his waist.

"I love you."

"You've been staring at the same picture for the past five minutes."

Trent jolted at the sound of Virgil's voice coming up from behind him. He didn't even bother to hide the fact that he was in fact staring at the same picture you had sent him yesterday. There was no denying that he was going insane.

Sure you called whenever you had the chance and made sure to update each other throughout the day, but obviously it wasn't the same. The first week had been a breeze for Trent, but a little harder for you since it took a bit of time to settle in without his presence but it happened gradually as you got too caught up in your trip.

One week. That's how long Trent lasted, and he still had three more to go before you got back. It felt strange to come home after practice in the evening and not see you lying on the couch with your arms open for a hug, or to see you in the stands during practice with a loving smile on your face.

"Everyone in the tunnel. Let's go."

With the announcement and a pat on the shoulder from Virgil, he let out one last heavy sigh and shook away any disruptive thoughts to move his focus to the match. They were playing Fulham for the Premier League Cup today, right at Anfield which meant that he was counting on this match as a distraction.

You, on the other hand, couldn't wait for the match to be over. The stadium was booming with noise from the fans the second you entered and quietly made your way to the friends and family booth without any of the team members noticing.

"Are you serious? What are you doing here?" Virgil's wife, Rike gasped when you slid in next to her. She hurriedly pulled you into a hug and laughed in disbelief.

"I got a little homesick," you answered breathily and Rike couldn't help but give a knowing hum.

She took your hand into hers with a smile and faced the front, her eyes trailing on her husband as everyone did their warmups. "Well, you were missed just as much. Seriously, I don't think I've ever seen Trent this down. I wouldn't be surprised if he cried himself to sleep."

You couldn't help but burst into a fit of laughter at her last retort, knowing full well that he slept on your side of the bed just to feel somewhat closer to you. But hey, you couldn't judge him, you did the exact same thing when he was gone.

It wasn't long before the match started that you were once again fully immersed in it. Whenever you went to any of their matches you would wonder how Rike put up with your endless screaming and complaining.

"Klopp might have to sign you as manager after he retires," the older woman chuckled to herself as she watched you jump from your seat during Trent's penalty that was nothing short from perfection even though it was technically an own goal.

By halftime, Fulham was in the lead, 3-2 and you could practically feel the boys' stress radiating from the field. Rike stayed with you during half-time since you couldn't see Trent just yet, no matter how desperate you were but she did a good job at keeping you distracted.

If there was one thing you noticed, however, it was that Trent didn't bother looking up at the box once the entire game which he always did when you came to watch them play. Which for sure meant that he had no idea you were here but you were glad that his mood was lifted after he took the penalty.

It was the last 3 minutes of the game and it was tied 3-3, and you were on the edge of your seat. You were so stressed out that you had to take off your jacket even though it was anything but warm in the stadium.

You watched eagerly as the ball was passed back from the goalie, back to Darwin, all the way to Mac who finally passed it to Trent, who successfully gave Liverpool their finisher for the evening. You and Rike were beyond ecstatic and probably looked like lunatics to everyone else in the booth but that didn't matter.

When you heard the whistle blow after the additional time was over you didn't waste a second and immediately sprinted down, out the tunnel and to the field. Your brain was for sure on autopilot mode because you couldn't recall anything besides your feet carrying you to the exit.

You halted in your tracks for a moment when you felt the crisp air hit your arms, but you didn't care and needed nothing more than your boyfriend. For a split second, you made eye contact with Dom but you gave him a look and he immediately shut his mouth that was nothing short of a smile.

You took one last deep breath and somehow wove your way through the crowd to end up where Trent was talking to a member of the other team. You took your time and patiently waited behind your boyfriend until he was gone to tap his shoulder.

Trent turned around, of course, his lips pursed and his face flushed red due to the adrenaline rush. It took a moment for him to register the fact that it was actually you and not someone playing tricks on him but the second you opened up your arms he was at a loss for words.

"Are you just going to stare at me or-- ah!"

The latter. Definitely the latter.

Before you knew it, you were engulfed in one of the tightest hugs you've ever experienced. You couldn't help but melt at the familiar feeling of being in Trent's embrace, knowing that you missed it way more than you originally thought.

Trent pulled away from the hug to get a better look at you, completely disregarding the screams from the fans as well as the cameras that were going off. He didn't care because all he saw was you. All he wanted was you.

"What are you doing here? I thought you were only coming back next week," he said exasperated and put his hands on your bare arms.

You gave him a simple shrug in response. "Why would I want to see the Eiffel Tower for another week when I could come home and be with you instead?"

That was enough to bring a cheeky smile to Trent's face, "It was that boring huh?" He took your hand into his and led you into the tunnel where everyone else was.

His eyes wandered adoringly over your features, taking the time to fully let your presence sink in. He didn't admit it but he for sure was not going to let you leave him for more than a week from now on. If you wanted to go on a trip then he'd be more than happy to tag along, but no way was he going to suffer again.

"Did you take my Jersey with you?" His question made you look down at the red Liverpool Jersey you were wearing, his number flaunted at the back.

"What? Just because I was watching your matches from a hotel room does not mean that I'm not gonna dress accordingly babe."

Trent gave your hand a light squeeze. "Oh I love a supportive girlfriend."

You lightly scoffed and turned your head to the front, where you saw Curtis and Ibou making fun of Harvey, probably about his height judging by the way they were pretending not to see him.

"I know you called Jude."

Trent's eyes widened a fraction, "It wasn't for anything serious!"

He’s so Peter Parker coded 😩

Just strong enough to love you

Ahn Su-ho x fem!reader

..................................................................................

The sky held that pale hue, somewhere between grey and blue, as if the sun hesitated to show itself that morning. A fine drizzle fell on the glistening sidewalks of Seoul, caressing passersby with a damp, almost soft breath. In this blurred light, two figures struggled at the end of an alley. Nothing new in this neighborhood. Another score settled, more high schoolers with more rage than future. And yet...

Y/N's camera captured everything.

She wasn't there for them. She was filming another shot, an urban life scene for an experimental montage. Y/N loved the textures of the city, the way sounds and movements overlapped like a chaotic symphony. But her lens had slipped for a moment. Just a moment. And in that fleeting instant, she had captured them: two boys. One frail, intelligent, calm like an inner storm. The other, a living fire, sure, quick, powerful blows. And that look...

Ahn Su-ho.

She hadn't deleted the video. Not because she was looking for trouble. She simply found the scene beautiful. An almost choreographed, rhythmic brutality, and above all, that silent tension between the two boys. A kind of raw loyalty. She had posted a short excerpt, blurring the faces. The video had gone viral. She didn't really understand why.

Two days later, he was there. In front of her high school. The rain was now just a memory. Su-ho, dressed in his slightly crumpled uniform, had his hands in his pockets, his gaze furious, his cheeks flushed from the cold or annoyance. She recognized him immediately.

"Is that you?" he asked. "Were you the one who filmed?"

His voice was deep, slightly hoarse. Not threatening. But there was a tension in his shoulders, as if he was holding himself back from exploding. Y/N, calm, looked at him for a long moment before answering.

"It's blurry. You can't see anyone clearly."

He sighed, ran a hand through his hair.

"That's not the problem. If someone recognizes Si-eun, he could get into trouble. And so could I. Delete it."

She shook her head.

"It's a work of art. I don't delete my works."

He stared at her, incredulous. His face tightened with annoyance.

"Seriously? You want to be an artist? This puts us in danger."

"I blurred the faces."

"You think that's enough?"

She shrugged. She wasn't provoking him. She was simply... sincere. Y/N never smiled without a reason. That day, she didn't smile. But she didn't lower her eyes either. And Su-ho noticed that.

It was Si-eun who solved the problem. As always. A week later, Su-ho told him about the scene.

"She won't delete it. That girl is stubborn."

Si-eun gave him a slow look, like an exasperated teacher.

"I'll ask her. I'm sure she'll say yes."

"And why would she say yes to you?"

"Because I didn't try to scare her."

Si-eun was right. Two days later, the video was offline. And Su-ho had no more excuses to think about her.

But he thought about her anyway.

He found her annoying. Absolutely frustrating. And, in a way, fascinating. She wasn't like the others. Not because she was mysterious or silent, but because she seemed to have an unwavering inner compass. She knew what she wanted. What she didn't want. And she wasn't going to bend to his demands, even though he could take down five guys without batting an eyelid.

It wasn't until Si-eun asked her, in a calm but firm tone, that she finally deleted the video. Without complaint. Without justification. Just a nod, and the clip disappeared from her phone as if it had never existed.

Su-ho should have moved on.

But he didn't.

He started to notice her. To watch for her passing. Sometimes, he lingered for no reason near her high school. Just... in case. And sometimes, he would run into her, and she would give him a neutral, almost bored look, but he felt his heart leap as if he had just run a marathon.

He didn't know what it was, that warmth in his chest, that need to see her, even for a second. He didn't understand why he smiled like an idiot when he thought about her calm demeanor, her composed voice. Y/N soothed him as much as she annoyed him.

A ball of energy, Su-ho. Always ready to fight to defend, to protect. But in front of her, he became clumsy. He would flirt sometimes, to mask what he didn't yet understand. And she... she didn't laugh at his jokes. But she listened to him. And that was worse. It touched him more than any forced laughter.

Then there was that night at the restaurant. He worked sometimes after school. He loved that little job. Serving, joking with customers, feeling the warmth of the kitchen, hearing the clatter of dishes and conversations. It was alive. Like him.

And she was there.

Sitting alone, a notebook in front of her. She was drawing, or taking notes, he didn't know. He approached, his heart beating faster than usual.

"Are you lost? Or did you come to see the most handsome waiter in Seoul?"

She looked up. Her calm gaze pierced him like a blade.

"I came to eat."

He laughed. Really laughed. This girl had a knack for breaking his opening lines.

"In that case, you're in luck. My service is exceptional."

"I'll judge for myself."

She still wasn't smiling. But there was a spark in the depths of her eyes. As if she was slowly letting herself be contaminated by his light.

And that night, he knew. He knew. He was screwed.

In love.

Not with an idea. Not with a fantasy. With her. With her silences. With her rigor. With her way of being upright in a crooked world. He loved her like one loves a rare light. A star fallen in the wrong place, at the wrong time, and yet so bright that one cannot help but reach out.

He talked to Si-eun about it one night as they walked in silence after a tense confrontation.

"I think I'm in love," he said simply.

Si-eun raised an eyebrow.

"Y/N?"

Su-ho stared at him, mouth slightly open.

"You knew?"

"You shine when you talk about her."

Su-ho smiled faintly.

"She's... different."

"Stop. You already said that."

"Damn it. Okay... Do you think it's possible? To love someone like that? For no reason? Just because when I think about her, I feel like everything else gets lighter?"

Si-eun, who wasn't one for giving advice, replied in a calm tone:

"I think that's the best reason."

And Su-ho began to dream. Not of fairy tales. Just of simple moments. Of sharing. Of seeing her smile. A real smile. He didn't care if he was "good enough" for her. Those kinds of thoughts sometimes gnawed at him, especially when he saw himself as a fighting, impulsive, rough boy. But there was an immense tenderness within him. A capacity to love without measure. And that tenderness, Y/N deserved it.

He didn't want to save her. She didn't need saving.

He just wanted to... walk beside her.

And he hoped, more than anything, that one day she would let him.

---

The next day, it rained again. Not the same soft drizzle as at the beginning of their story, no. This time, it was a more distinct rain, almost vibrant, as if the sky shared a certain nervousness.

Y/N had stopped under the high school awning, nervously rummaging through her bag. She knew it. Her notebook wasn't there anymore. And she wasn't stupid—she knew exactly where she had forgotten it. On that small restaurant table, half-hidden under her coat.

And above all, she knew who had found it.

When Su-ho arrived, soaked despite his hood, he spotted her right away. He had that look, a little playful, a little too bright. He approached silently, slipped his hand into his backpack, and pulled out the black notebook, one corner slightly dog-eared.

"I believe you left something," he said, his voice calm but his gaze filled with a mocking gleam.

She snatched the notebook, a little too quickly, as if she wanted to shield it from his eyes. But it was too late. He had seen it. And not just seen it. He had read it.

"Page 17," he murmured, feigning distraction. "Nice drawing. I'm even more handsome in a drawing than in real life, don't you think?"

She froze, her fingers clenched on the cover. She looked up at him. That look. Always the same. Calm. Cold, for some. But Su-ho knew. She was boiling inside.

"You read it," she said simply. It wasn't a question.

He shrugged, looking a little guilty but mostly, sincerely moved.

"Just a little. By accident. Well... page 17, then 18... 19... I got a little carried away."

A silence. Then he continued, taking a folded piece of paper from the notebook's cover.

"I added something. I hope you don't mind. It's at the end."

She opened it. Slowly. And there, on the last page, was a drawing of her. Clumsy, clearly not done by a hand used to art. But touching. There she was, head down, focused, with that little crease between her eyebrows she made when she was thinking.

And below it, he had written, in slightly shaky handwriting:

"I think I like her too... maybe even a little too much. And given the masterpiece she made of me, I think we're meant to be a team."

She closed the notebook. Slowly. Her heart was beating too fast. He saw it, she knew it. He read her. And strangely, she didn't want to run away this time.

"A team, huh?" she said finally, without any apparent emotion.

"A dream team," he replied with a wink. "You film, I punch. You draw, I model. You create silences, I fill them with nonsense."

And for the first time since he had known her, she smiled. Not a half-smile. A real one. Slight. Shy. But there.

Su-ho looked surprised. Then, slowly, he smiled too. Not his usual superficial smile. Not his smile to deflect. A real one.

"You see, you're even more beautiful when you smile," he whispered.

She rolled her eyes, feigning exasperation.

"And you're even more unbearable when you start."

He laughed. Then, gently, he held out his hand.

"Walk together? Just for a bit?"

She hesitated. Just for a second.

And then, she slipped her fingers into his.

"A bit, then."

..................................................................................