#Excited as always to see what you think up! :3

[valiasims]

Cozy Cabin Collection - Bedroom

Hey everyone!

The final part of the Cozy Cabin Collection is here! It is a bedroom set and includes a modular closet with items to fill them up with.

I'm a little sad to say goodbye this cabin theme because I gained a lot of followers through the time I was making these sets and I also learned a lot of new skills and techniques. When I came up with the idea of a large collection to guide us through autumn and winter, I hadn’t expected it to become so significant in terms of sentimental value. I was always thinking about the next idea to bring to life and living in a cabin in my mind. Despite this being a sad moment, I’m so excited for what’s next! I’ll be creating a set for a commercial lot, and I’ve had this idea for about a month and a half. After seeing what the next expansion pack will be, I’m even more excited because I think it will complement it well.

A bit more about this set: It started as a bedroom set but somehow turned into a closet set with bedroom items. At first, I only wanted to add two closet pieces with the door, but I figured it would be more versatile (and not too much extra work) if I included the corner piece as well. A little info on how the door works: You can slot the door onto the closet pieces, with three slots available on each piece. It only makes sense to use the side slots if you have two or more pieces placed next to each other. I added multiple slots for hanging clothes so you can use the in-game clothes (or other CC ones) that are grouped together, but also place individual items without using the TOOL mod.

The wicker basket, folded sweaters and the hat box are stackable.

For the curtains, I made a curtain rod that, for some godforsaken reason, looks completely different in-game than the rod on the curtain items themselves, despite them having the same texture and everything. This was the reason I couldn't include them in the last set—I just couldn’t get them right no matter how hard I tried. I even checked out other CC that does the same thing by separating the rod, and they all had the same problem. Somehow, the lighting on them looks different, and I couldn’t find a solution. So sorry for this issue but hopefully it's not too noticable.

I think that’s all! I’m really grateful for all of you being here—thank you, and I hope you’ll like this set as well. Let me know if you have any issues, and feel free to leave your thoughts below so I can see what you like and what you don’t.

The Set Includes

Wooden Bedframe

Bed Mattress

Decorative Pillows

End Table

End Table Lamp

Wooden Bench

Closet (3 types+corner)

Closet Door

Hanging Elegant Coat

Hanging Jacket

Hanging Puffer Jacket

Hanging Tops

Wicker Basket

Designer Hat

Fluffy Hat

Folded Sweaters

Decorative Footwear (3 styles)

Hat Box

Makeup Bag

Curtain Rod

Closed Curtain (3 heights)

Opened Curtain (3 heights)

Antler Wall Lamp

-BECOME A MEMBER- Public release on the 15th of March 6PM CST

[meadowfics]

the squid game characters as parents ☂︎

𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒐𝒏𝒔

𝑓𝑒𝑎����𝑢𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: 𝑘𝑎𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑎𝑒-ℎ𝑜 (𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑦𝑒𝑟 388), 𝑐ℎ𝑜 ℎ𝑦𝑢𝑛-𝑗𝑢 (𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑦𝑒𝑟 120), 𝑘𝑎𝑛𝑔 𝑠𝑎𝑒-𝑏𝑦𝑒𝑜𝑘 (𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑦𝑒𝑟 067 𝑠1), 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑘 𝑔𝑦𝑒𝑜𝑛𝑔-𝑠𝑒𝑜𝑘 (𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑦𝑒𝑟 246), 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑠 (𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑦𝑒𝑟 230), 𝑛𝑎𝑚𝑔𝑦𝑢 (𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑦𝑒𝑟 124), 𝑠𝑒-𝑚𝑖 (𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑦𝑒𝑟 380), 𝑐ℎ𝑜 𝑠𝑎𝑛𝑔-𝑤𝑜𝑜 (𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑦𝑒𝑟 218 𝑠1), 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑎𝑙𝑒𝑠𝑚𝑎𝑛

𝑥 𝑓!𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟

headcannons will feature: which type of parenting style the characters adapt to and why (based off of their character and backstories), how many kids they'd have with you, the physical and personality descriptions of the kids, and a cute moment between them and your shared baby/child <3

if you do not prefer what I've written for these characters or disagree, you can ignore or simply write your own.

cho hyun-ju x you

parenting styles:

you and hyun-ju balance each other out as parents.

you are the structured but warm parent.

you make sure your daughter sticks to routines, eats well, and understands responsibility, but you always do it with love.

hyun-ju is softer, more relaxed, and endlessly patient.

she never raises her voice, always talking things through calmly. she is the type to sit down at eye level with your daughter when explaining things, making sure she always feels heard and valued.

both of you raise eun-ae to be accepting of everyone, teaching her that kindness and respect matter more than anything.

hyun-ju, especially, makes it a point to talk about how people should be free to live as their true selves.

how many kids?:

you had one child, pregnant during the games. the father passed away before the games and you were struggling.

after meeting hyun-ju and making it out the games alive, she stepped into the role of a mother without hesitation.

she never once saw eun-ae as anything other than her daughter.

over the years, you two discussed the idea of having another child, but nothing ever felt as natural and right as just raising eun-ae together.

she was enough, and your little family felt complete.

what does eun-ae look like?

eun-ae has your eyes and your nose, but her expressions, the way she tilts her head when she’s thinking or furrows her brows when concentrating, are all hyun-ju.

the girl's dark, wavy hair that always looks a little messy no matter how many times you try to fix it.

she refuses to sit still for too long when you try to brush it.

big, expressive eyes that make it impossible to say no to her.

she knows exactly how to use them against both of you.

whats her personality?:

curious and always asking questions.

she wants to know everything about the world and why things are the way they are.

eun-ae has a heart of gold, just like hyun-ju.

she doesn’t like seeing people sad and always tries to help, even in little ways.

a little mischievous, especially with you.

she knows you’re the softer one when it comes to saying “no” and always tests her luck with you first before hyun-ju steps in.

one afternoon, you find eun-ae sitting on the living room floor with an old photo album spread open in front of her.

she’s flipping through the pages with wide eyes, her fingers running over the images like she’s trying to memorize them.

“mommy,” she calls, looking up at you.

“did you know mama had a twin brother?”

your heart stops for a second before you realize what she’s looking at. the pictures..hyun-ju from before her transition, back when she was in the special forces.

short-cropped hair, sharp jawline, standing in uniform with a serious expression.

you sit down next to her, trying to find the right words, but before you can speak, hyun-ju steps into the room.

“what are you looking at, sweetie?” hyun-ju asks, kneeling beside her.

eun-ae points at the photos.

“you never told me you had a twin!” she exclaims, looking between the two of you, confused but excited.

hyun-ju exhales softly, giving you a glance, and you nod, silently letting her know you’re here, supporting whatever she wants to say.

“sweetheart,” hyun-ju starts, tucking a strand of hair behind eun-ae’s ear.

“that’s actually me.”

eun-ae blinks, then looks back at the photos. her little fingers trace over the face again, like she’s trying to match it to the woman sitting beside her.

“but… you don’t look like that now.”

hyun-ju takes a breath, reaching for her daughter’s hands.

“that’s because i wasn’t happy being that person,” she explains gently.

“i always felt like i was supposed to be different, like i was living as someone else instead of who i really am. but then, one day, i decided to be true to myself. i became the person i was always meant to be.”

eun-ae stays quiet, her brows furrowed in deep thought.

you rub her back soothingly, letting her process.

after a moment, she looks up at hyun-ju with the biggest, most innocent eyes and asks, “so… you were always my mommy, even back then?”

hyun-ju’s breath catches. you see the way her throat bobs as she swallows hard, emotions threatening to overwhelm her.

she squeezes eun-ae’s hands.

“yes, baby. i was always meant to be your mommy.”

without hesitation, eun-ae throws her arms around hyun-ju’s neck, holding her as tightly as her little arms allow.

“i love you, mommy. you’re the best.”

hyun-ju lets out a shaky breath, wrapping her arms around your daughter and burying her face into her tiny shoulder. you watch as she clings to eun-ae, like she’s afraid to let go, like she never thought she’d have this kind of love and acceptance.

your chest feels like it’s about to burst with love, and you reach over, wrapping your arms around both of them.

“we’re always going to love you,” you whisper to hyun-ju, pressing a kiss to her temple.

“always.”

thanos x you

parenting styles:

thanos is the stricter parent, always making sure scarlet and thor know the importance of discipline, respect, and making smart choices.

he has a tendency to lecture when they mess up, but it always comes from a place of love and deep fear of failing them.

you balance him out with a more nurturing approach, making sure the twins feel emotionally understood.

when thanos gets too intense, you’re there to remind him to soften up.

thanos has worked hard to leave his past behind, getting clean before the twins were born, and he swore to never let them experience the kind of childhood he had.

he wants to be a father they can be proud of, even if it means being tough at times.

deep down, he’s terrified of messing up, but he refuses to let that fear control him.

how many kids?:

twins...scarlet and thor.

thanos insists on calling them by these names, and despite your protests, the names stuck.

these are not their legal, government names by the way.

however, even their teachers call them that.

so, the names stuck.

thanos always planned to be there for them, but before they were born, he had doubts about whether he’d be a good enough father. once they arrived, he knew he could never let them down.

what do 'scarlet' and 'thor' look like??

both are almost exact copies of thanos.

same piercing eyes, same sharp features.

scarlet has his nose and a determined expression that mirrors his own.

thor has the same strong jawline and serious gaze that makes it seem like he’s always deep in thought.

the only thing they got from you is your hair and eyebrows.

everything else? all thanos.

what are their personalities?:

scarlet is fearless, never backing down from a challenge.

she’s sharp, clever, and sometimes too stubborn for her own good.

she tries to get what she wants, often crying if she does not, but luckily you and thanos can respectfully handle the underlying issue.

thor is quieter, more observant, but equally as strong-willed.

he thinks before he speaks, always analyzing before making a move.

the twins bicker constantly, but underneath it all, they’re inseparable. if one is upset, the other immediately feels it.

you stand in the foyer hallway, leaning against the wall, arms crossed as you watch the chaos unfold.

“scarlet, give it back!”

thor shouts, his small hands reaching for the toy clutched in his twin’s grip.

“i had it first!”

scarlet yells back, yanking it away.

thor, never one to let things go easily, lunges for it, but scarlet is quicker. frustration bubbles between them, their voices getting louder, and within seconds, scarlet’s face crumples.

tears spill over, her frustration reaching its limit.

the moment scarlet starts crying, thor...who had been so determined to win this battle...suddenly looks stricken. the younger twin's lower lip trembles before he lets out a wail of his own, their emotions bouncing off each other like an unstoppable force.

thanos, who had been watching with narrowed eyes, sighs heavily and kneels down in front of them.

“enough enough enough,”

he says firmly, but not unkindly.

scarlet sniffles, rubbing her eyes. thor hiccups, clutching his tiny fists.

“what did i tell you about being smart?”

thanos asks, his voice calm but steady.

scarlet and thor stare at him, still hiccuping through their tears.

“you’re both upset, and for what? a toy vegetable?”

thanos continues, shaking his head.

“is this what smart choices look like?”

scarlet wipes her nose on her sleeve, looking down at the toy.

“no…”

thor mumbles the same answer, shuffling on his feet.

thanos exhales, reaching out to place a gentle hand on each of their small shoulders.

“listen to me. you’re a team. you don’t fight each other. you figure things out together.”

scarlet sniffles.

“but… i wanted it first.”

“and thor wanted it too,”

thanos points out.

“so what do we do when we both want something?”

thor glances at his twin before muttering, “share?”

thanos nods.

“or take turns.”

scarlet looks at the toy in her hands before hesitantly holding it out to thor.

"you can go first.”

thor looks surprised, but he takes it.

“okay… i’ll give it back when i’m done.”

thanos nods in approval before pulling both of them into a firm but warm hug, pressing a kiss to their heads.

“that’s how you do it,” he murmurs.

watching from your spot, your heart swells at the sight. thanos might be strict, but in moments like this, he’s exactly the father he promised he would be.

“i hope you know you’re doing a good job,” you finally say, stepping forward.

thanos glances at you, something soft and unspoken in his eyes.

“i have to.”

kang sae-byeok x you

parenting styles:

you and sae-byeok are incredibly protective of hyun-jae, but in different ways.

sae-byeok has a sharp eye for danger, always keeping watch, while you focus more on emotionally supporting him.

sae-byeok, despite her tough exterior, is a very gentle mom.

she’s patient, never raising her voice, and always makes sure hyun-jae knows that he is loved.

you’re more relaxed when it comes to letting him explore and make mistakes, knowing that he needs to learn things for himself.

together, you raise him to be both brave and kind, knowing how to stand up for himself while also being thoughtful of others.

how many kids?:

five years after the games, you and sae-byeok go through IVF.

you carry a fertilized egg of sae-byeok's, making you both connected to your baby.

your son, hyun-jae, is born nine months later.

he looks just like sae-byeok.

same sharp eyes, same soft yet serious expression.

when hyun-jae is five, sae-byeok is the one pregnant with your second child, a baby girl.

she’s seven months along when hyun-jae starts school.

what does your first child, hyun-jae, look like?:

identical to sae-byeok. people always comment on how he’s her mini-me.

dark, straight hair that always seems to fall over his forehead no matter how many times you brush it away.

expressive eyes that make it easy to tell what he’s feeling, even when he’s quiet.

what is his personality like?:

shy at first, much like his uncle cheol, but he is not afraid to stand up for himself.

he’s brave in small but meaningful ways.

he loves offering a hand to someone who falls, defending his friends, speaking up when something feels wrong.

he loves his family deeply and has a hard time being away from you and sae-byeok for too long.

the morning of hyun-jae’s first day of school is filled with nervous energy.

you’re packing his lunch while sae-byeok kneels beside him, gently fixing his tiny backpack straps.

“i don’t wanna go,”

hyun-jae mumbles, gripping sae-byeok’s arm tightly.

the boy's big eyes look up at her, filled with worry.

“can’t i just stay with you and mama?”

sae-byeok, despite being seven months pregnant, crouches to his level, cupping his little face in her hands.

“baby, you’re going to have so much fun,” she reassures him.

“there are going to be toys, and new friends, and storytime. you won’t even notice how fast time goes.”

you kneel beside them, ruffling his hair.

“and we’ll be back before you know it,” you add.

he hesitates, glancing between the two of you, unsure. sae-byeok presses a kiss to his forehead before taking his small hand in hers.

“let’s go,” she says gently.

at the school, hyun-jae clings to sae-byeok’s hand the entire walk to his classroom.

the boy's tiny fingers grip hers, his knuckles turning white.

when you arrive at the classroom door, colorful posters line the walls, and shelves filled with toys and books create a warm, inviting space. inside, other kids are already playing, laughing as they explore the new environment.

hyun-jae peeks inside but doesn’t let go of sae-byeok’s hand.

“see?” you whisper to him.

“there’s so much to do. you’re gonna love it here.”

he still hesitates.

then, something catches his eye..

the art station, where dozens of bright-colored pencils and markers are scattered across a table.

another little boy is drawing, and when he looks up, he grins at hyun-jae.

that’s all it takes.

hyun-jae, almost forgetting his nerves, drops sae-byeok’s hand and rushes inside, immediately picking up a green crayon and joining his new classmate.

you and sae-byeok stand in the doorway, watching him with fond smiles.

when you glance at sae-byeok, her expression is different...her lips are slightly pursed, her eyes glossy.

you sigh knowingly.

“babe…”

sae-byeok blinks quickly, trying to stop the tears, but it’s no use. she lets out a soft sniffle, rubbing at her eyes.

“he’s just… so big now,” she murmurs.

“it feels like you just gave birth to him yesterday.”

you chuckle, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her into your side.

“he’s happy. look at him.”

she sniffles again, nodding.

“i know. i just… i don’t know. i blame the pregnancy hormones.”

you press a kiss to her temple.

“he’s gonna be so loved here. and he’s gonna do great.”

sae-byeok exhales, leaning into you, and together, you watch as hyun-jae laughs, completely forgetting about his nerves as he starts drawing with his new friends.

just like that, your little boy is growing up.

kang dae-ho x you

parenting styles:

dae-ho is the fun parent.

the one who sits on the floor for tea parties, lets the kids paint his nails, and turns mundane things into an adventure.

he’s goofy and affectionate, always making the kids laugh.

you are still soft, but you make sure they grow up with responsibility, kindness, and respect.

you enforce rules when needed, guiding them to be the best versions of themselves.

neither of you believe in rigid gender roles.

whenever ji-sung grows older, dae-ho will make sure he knows it’s okay to express emotions, to cry if he needs to, and to never fall into toxic masculinity.

how many kids?:

four in total.

yeong-ja (8 years old)

ma-ri (6 years old)

young-mi (4 years old)

ji-sung (8 months old)

what are their physical and personality descriptions?:

yeong-ja: looks exactly like you and has your independent spirit. she’s sharp-witted and protective over her younger siblings.

ma-ri: again, has a mix of both of you in her features. she is a perfect balance between playfulness and being deeply introspective.

young-mi: inherited a lot from dae-ho’s side of the family, even looking like one of his sisters. she is the wildcard, full of energy and always surprising you both. she is named after one of your friends, young-mi, who died in the games.

ji-sung: is a carbon copy of dae-ho and the most relaxed baby, always content to be held or observe the chaos around him for his little age.

dinnertime is always lively in your house.

tonight, the kids sit in their usual spots.

yeong-ja next to ma-ri, young-mi across from them, and little ji-sung in his high chair, babbling between bites of mashed sweet potatoes.

dae-ho, as always, is helping feed the baby while also entertaining the older kids with exaggerated stories.

“did you know,” he begins dramatically, “that i was the youngest boy to four older sisters?”

yeong-ja’s eyes widen.

“like ji-sung?”

dae-ho nods, smiling.

“exactly like ji-sung.” he looks over at the baby, who giggles as he waves a tiny spoon in the air.

“he reminds me so much of myself.”

ma-ri, always curious, tilts her head.

“what were ur aunties like while growing up?”

dae-ho leans back, a fond smile on his lips.

“they were amazing. they were tough, smart, and they looked out for me. i was spoiled rotten, but they also didn’t let me get away with everything. sometimes I was used as their dress up doll.. but i was lucky to have them.”

young-mi, who had been quiet while eating, perks up.

“soooo… does that mean ji-sung is lucky too?”

you laugh softly, reaching to smooth down ji-sung’s soft hair.

“oh, he’s very lucky. he has three big sisters who love him just as much.”

yeong-ja grins, puffing out her chest proudly.

“of course! we have to protect him.”

dae-ho chuckles. “but you know, ji-sung won’t have to be all ‘tough guy’ when he grows up. he can talk about his feelings, he can be gentle, and he never has to hide who he is. just like you girls.”

ma-ri nods enthusiastically.

“yeah! boys can have tea parties too.”

dae-ho smirks, wiping some mashed potatoes off of ji-sung’s cheek.

“that’s right. and i love tea parties. i think we should have one this weekend.”

young-mi gasps.

“yes! i’ll set everything up!”

as the girls excitedly plan their next tea party, you smile, watching the way dae-ho interacts with them so effortlessly, so full of love.

he looks up and catches your gaze, his expression softening.

“you know this but,” you say, playing with your fork. “i grew up as an only child. having a big family like this is so new to me… but i love it so much.”

dae-ho reaches over, squeezing your hand gently.

“me too.”

ji-sung coos from his high chair, and as if on cue, young-mi wipes his mouth in the exact same way you do. yeong-ja and ma-ri continue chatting animatedly, and dae-h realizes—this is what happiness looks like.

se-mi x you

parenting styles:

you and se-mi are the same in many ways.

both soft, loving, and full of humor.

your home is always warm, filled with laughter and gentle affection.

you both vowed from the moment you adopted lee-an that she would always know love, always feel safe, and always have a family to rely on.

you encourage her curiosity, letting her explore and learn at her own pace, always there to cheer her on with open arms.

how many kids?:

just one, lee-an.

she came into your lives when she was only three months old, after se-mi’s close friend (lee-an's mom) passed away.

you and se-mi took her in without hesitation, knowing you would give her the life her mother would have wanted.

what does lee-an look like, whats her personality?:

she looks just like her biological mother.

dark hair, bright almond-shaped eyes, and the sweetest dimples that make her smile absolutely contagious.

lee-an is the happiest baby.

she is always smiling, always giggling, and always ready to charm everyone around her.

fearless in the best way, always eager to explore and try new things.

she loves food too.

if there’s something to eat, she’s interested.

you and se-mi sit on the floor, watching as lee-an clutches the couch with her tiny fingers, her little feet wobbling as she shifts her weight.

at this point, she is ten months old. she is soon to be walking.

“she’s thinking about it,”

se-mi whispers, her hand lightly resting on your knee.

you nod, smiling.

“she’s been cruising along the furniture for weeks. maybe today’s the day.”

lee-an glances between the two of you, her dimpled cheeks rising as she gives you a toothy grin.

then, her attention shifts to se-mi, who is holding an apple in her hand.

“ooh,” se-mi coos, wiggling the fruit playfully.

“do you want this, baby!?”

lee-an’s eyes go wide, her excitement bubbling over as she lets out a happy squeal.

then, without thinking, she lets go of the couch.

your breath catches as her chubby legs take their first shaky steps forward, one foot, then another, her arms outstretched for balance.

“that’s it, baby!” you cheer.

“keep going, lee-an!” se-mi encourages, her voice full of pride.

lee-an giggles, her steps uneven but determined.

she stumbles a little, but she doesn’t fall. the girl's baby eyes stay locked on the apple, her motivation clear.

step by step, she makes her way toward se-mi’s lap.

by the time she finally reaches her, she plops down with a victorious huff, grabbing onto se-mi’s knee.

se-mi laughs, running a hand through lee-an’s soft hair.

“you did it, sweetheart!”

you lean in, pressing a kiss to her round cheek.

“so proud of you, baby.”

lee-an giggles loudly, her tiny hands reaching for the apple. se-mi hands it to her, and she immediately takes a messy bite, her whole face lighting up.

you and se-mi exchange a glance, both of you filled with overwhelming love.

“our little girl is walking,” se-mi murmurs.

you smile, wrapping an arm around her.

“and she’s only just getting started.”

park gyeong-seok x you

parenting styles:

gyeong-seok naturally leans into more traditional parenting.

he assumes that parents always know best and sometimes struggles to admit when he’s wrong.

he has a strong sense of responsibility and believes in structure, discipline, and respect.

you, on the other hand, follow newer, more loving methods.

you believe in understanding emotions, validating feelings, and talking through issues rather than just enforcing rules.

despite the 12 year difference between the couple, you and gyeong-seok both balance each other out.

gyeong-seok is learning to be more flexible, and you sometimes let him take the lead when it’s needed.

what matters most is that your home is always full of love.

how many kids?:

you came into the relationship with hana, your seven year old daughter, when you met gyeong-seok during the games.

gyeong-seok had na-yeon, his three-year-old daughter from a past relationship.

when your families merged, the two girls became inseparable.

it was like they had always been sisters.

what do your daughters look like?:

hana looks exactly like you.

same features, same expressions, same smile.

na-yeon, on the other hand, takes after her biological mother, but as she grows, she picks up so many of your mannerisms that people often assume she’s biologically yours.

what are their personalities?:

hana, despite resembling you in looks, starts adopting gyeong-seok’s sense of responsibility and protectiveness.

she is always watching out for na-yeon, making sure she’s safe and taken care of. sometimes she’s a little too protective, but it comes from love.

na-yeon is full of energy and warmth.

she adores her family and has picked up your habit of always checking in on people.

she asks, “are you okay?” even over the smallest things.

if one of them gets scolded for something unsafe, the other one is immediately upset, standing by her sister’s side against you and gyeong-seok.

the house is quiet, save for the soft hum of the shower running in the bathroom. gyeong-seok glances at the clock...bedtime.

he sighs, rubbing his face before turning to the two girls sitting on the couch, clearly fighting off sleep.

“alright, time for bed,”

he announces, standing up.

hana groans.

“but—”

“no buts,” gyeong-seok says, scooping na-yeon into his arms. she immediately clings to him, resting her head against his shoulder.

“you’ll thank me in the morning.”

hana sighs dramatically but follows, rubbing her eyes as they head upstairs.

the girls’ shared room is warm and cozy, decorated in soft pink and sage green tones. their beds sit on opposite sides of the room, identical in design but decorated with their own personal touches.

hana’s with her stuffed animals lined up neatly, na-yeon’s with her favorite bunny plush tucked under the blanket.

gently, gyeong-seok places na-yeon in her bed, tucking the blanket up to her chin before turning to do the same for hana.

he brushes her hair back, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.

“goodnight,” he murmurs.

hana mumbles a tired response, already half-asleep.

before leaving, he remembers na-yeon’s medicine.

he heads to the kitchen, grabs the small bottle, and returns...only to find that na-yeon is no longer in her bed.

instead, she has climbed into hana’s, curling up right beside her sister.

gyeong-seok raises an eyebrow, walking over to the bed. hana hasn’t stirred, still deep in sleep, while na-yeon blinks up at him sleepily.

“why aren’t you in your bed?” he asks, kneeling down.

na-yeon shifts, hugging her bunny plush close before whispering,

“safe.”

gyeong-seok’s chest tightens.

usually, he’d remind na-yeon to sleep in her own bed, to give hana space.

hana doesn’t seem to mind...her arm is loosely wrapped around na-yeon, holding her close even in sleep.

with a small smile, gyeong-seok smooths na-yeon’s hair.

“alright. just for tonight.”

na-yeon hums in contentment, her eyes slipping shut.

leaning against the doorway, you watch the scene unfold, a soft smile on your lips.

gyeong-seok catches your eye, shaking his head fondly before standing up and walking toward you.

“you’re soft,” you tease in a whisper.

he exhales, running a hand through his hair.

“what can i do? they’ve got me wrapped around their fingers.”

you press a kiss to his shoulder, warmth blooming in your chest as you both watch your daughters sleep.

cho sang-woo x you

parenting styles:

sang-woo is laid-back but firm when it comes to discipline.

he expects responsibility and effort from the kids, but he never raises his voice.

he believes in teaching them rather than punishing them.

you, being seventeen years younger than sangwoo, have all the energy in the world for your kids.

you’re the one running to every sports event, helping with every school project, and making sure they have the most fun childhood possible.

together, you and sang-woo balance each other out. while he’s the rational, calm parent.

you bring warmth, excitement, and emotional support.

how many kids?:

the both of you have twins!

eun-ho is the boy. younger by one hour.

eun-ji is the girl. older by one hour.

what does eun-ho and eun-ji look like? what are their personalities?:

both twins resemble you more than sang-woo.

however, eun-ho has distinct features that remind everyone of his paternal grandmother.

eun-ji is the spitting image of you, often mistaken for your younger self in old photos.

both kids are extremely smart.

eun-ho is more logical and precise, while eun-ji is clever and adaptive.

eun-ho is more english and history smart.

eun-ji is more math and science smart.

they inherited their kindness from their grandmother, who loves them deeply.

eun-ho is quieter and more reserved, while eun-ji is bold and quick-thinking.

despite their differences, they are inseparable and always help each other out.

the kitchen table is covered with notebooks, pencils, and scattered worksheets.

the twins sit across from each other, identical expressions of frustration on their faces.

“ugh,” eun-ji groans, dropping her pencil.

“i don’t get it.”

the eleven year olds huff, with eun-ho pushing his glasses up his nose.

“me neither. this is the hardest question ever.”

sang-woo, who had just finished reviewing some work, looks over and leans in.

“let me see.”

eun-ji immediately slides her worksheet over.

“this one. it makes no sense.”

eun-ho nods.

“we tried everything, but it’s just not clicking.”

sang-woo studies the problem for a moment before explaining it in a way that makes sense.

clear, concise, and just challenging enough for them to figure it out on their own.

he guides them through it, asking the right questions, making them think.

after a few moments, eun-ji’s eyes widen.

“wait… wait, i get it!”

eun-ho’s fingers fly across the paper, scribbling down numbers.

“i got the answer! is this right?”

sang-woo smiles subtly.

“let’s see.” he checks the work, then nods. “perfect.”

both twins light up before suddenly launching themselves at sang-woo, hugging him tightly.

“you’re the smartest, dad!” eun-ji says, squeezing him.

“seriously, how do you know everything?” eun-ho adds, looking up at him in admiration.

sang-woo chuckles, rubbing their backs.

“i don’t know everything,” he humbly replies, “but I do know this.”

you, watching from the doorway, smile at the sight. seeing your kids adore sang-woo, seeing him soak in their love despite his usual reserved nature, makes your heart swell.

“you’re such a nerd,” you tease, walking over and pressing a kiss to his cheek.

sang-woo smirks.

“and yet, you married me.”

the twins groan playfully at the affection, but they’re still beaming as they return to their homework, feeling accomplished..

namgyu x you

parenting styles:

namgyu is a free-range parent.

he doesn’t believe in too much discipline and prefers to let seo-hoo explore the world on his own terms.

whenever seo-hoo asks for something, namgyu’s immediate response is, “ask your mom,” because he doesn’t like making final decisions.

he fully trusts you to be the responsible one.

despite his laid-back approach, he is incredibly loving and present in seo-hoo’s life, always ready to play, teach, and encourage him.

you, on the other hand, provide the structure, making sure seo-hoo grows up responsible while still being able to enjoy his free-spirited nature.

how many kids?:

just one, seo-hoo.

the energetic, mischievous six-year-old son namgyu and you have who is the light of both your lives.

what does seo-hoo look like? what is his personality?:

he looks just like you, from his eyes to his facial expressions.

the only trait he got from namgyu physically is the way he smiles.

a wide, bright grin that makes it impossible to stay mad at him.

he is all of namgyu’s energy bottled into a tiny body.

seo-hoo is always moving, always curious, and never stays in one place for too long.

honestly, you might want to get your son checked for hyperactive ADHD.

he loves playing sports, especially soccer, because it’s something he shares with namgyu.

sea-hoo is naturally confident, not afraid to try new things, and sometimes takes risks he probably shouldn’t.

you arrive home from work, pushing the front door open only to hear soft murmurs coming from the living room.

“okay, okay, stay still, buddy,”

namgyu’s voice says gently.

curious, you step inside and see your six-year-old son, seo-hoo, sitting on the couch with his leg propped up on a pillow.

namgyu is kneeling in front of him, his brows furrowed in deep concentration as he carefully dabs alcohol on a small scrape on seo-hoo’s knee.

seo-hoo winces.

“owww, it stings!”

namgyu blows on the wound immediately.

“i know, little man, but it’ll be over soon. just gotta get all the bad stuff out, then i’ll put the coolest spiderman bandaid on it.”

seo-hoo pouts, still wiggling his foot.

“promise?”

namgyu grins.

“i swear on all the ice cream in the fridge.”

you lean against the doorway, watching as namgyu applies the bandaid with more care than you’ve ever seen him use for anything else.

he gently pats seo-hoo’s leg, making sure the bandaid sticks properly before sitting back.

“all done. see? you survived.”

seo-hoo examines the blue and red bandaid like it’s a badge of honor.

“do i look cool?”

namgyu laughs.

“so cool. i bet all your friends are gonna ask where you got it.”

finally stepping forward, you clear your throat, making both of them look up.

“what happened?”

namgyu rubs the back of his neck sheepishly.

“uh… we were playing soccer outside, and he went for this huge kick..”

“it was awesome, mom,” seo-hoo chimes in.

“like boom! but then I fell.”

you sigh, shaking your head, but there’s no real frustration behind it.

“you okay now, baby?”

seo-hoo nods, proudly pointing at his bandaid.

“dad fixed me.”

you glance at namgyu, who shrugs, trying to play it cool, but there’s warmth in his eyes. even though he always jokes about not being the ‘responsible’ parent, you see it—the way he pays attention, the way he takes care of your son in the most genuine ways.

you walk over, pressing a kiss to seo-hoo’s head before leaning down to kiss namgyu’s cheek.

“you did good.”

namgyu huffs a laugh.

“don’t sound so surprised.”

you roll your eyes, but when you see the small, proud smile on his lips as he watches seo-hoo bounce excitedly on the couch, your heart swells.

he might not always think of himself as the responsible parent, but you know the truth... he’s the most caring dad in the world.

the salesman x you

parenting styles:

the salesman is always busy with work, rarely home during the day,

he makes sure his family has everything they need.

he contributes 100% financially, ensuring that you and the kids live comfortably.

you, on the other hand, handle the everyday parenting, making sure your children grow up to be kind, humble, and well-grounded despite their wealth.

the salesman is more of an enigma to the kids.

present in their lives, but not always physically there.

when he is, though, he makes sure they feel loved.

how many kids?:

three in total.

ho-joon is the oldest son, being sixteen years old.

jae-hoon is the middle son, being twelve years old .

ji-woo is the youngest, being the only girl, only ten years old.

what does ho-joon, jae-hoon, and ji-woo look like? what are their personalities?

all three kids take after their father.

the salesman’s genes are just that strong.

sharp, defined features, dark hair, and the same quiet, intense eyes.

they all inherited his reserved nature.

none of them are loud or overly expressive, but they carry themselves with quiet confidence.

ho-joon is naturally more responsible, often looking out for his younger siblings.

jae-hoon prefers to do his own thing, not overly attached to his family but still respects and loves them.

ji-woo is the softest, the most reserved, and the most attached to you, preferring your presence over anyone else's.

it is a quiet afternoon when ho-joon, jae-hoon, and ji-woo were walking home together after school, the late sun casting warm light over the streets.

as they strolled past a familiar row of shops, ho-joon suddenly noticed a familiar figure walking into a pastry shop.

he stopped in his tracks.

“dad?” he mumbled, narrowing his eyes at the man in the sleek black suit disappearing into the storefront.

jae-hoon followed his gaze.

“huh? guess he’s not working right now.”

without hesitation, ho-joon took the lead, holding the door open for his younger siblings as they all stepped inside.

the scent of freshly baked pastries filled the air, and there, standing by the counter, was their father, scanning the selection of treats.

when he turned and saw his three children standing before him, a rare, genuine smile spread across his face.

“ah,” the salesman hummed, amused.

“i wasn’t expecting to see you all here? I'm guessing you guys were walking home from school.”

ji-woo’s small hand gripped ho-joon’s sleeve as she stayed close, peeking up at her father with big, quiet eyes.

ho-joon crossed his arms.

“we caught you sneaking around.”

jae-hoon smirked.

“are you on a secret mission, dad?”

the salesman chuckled, shaking his head.

“something like that.” he turned to the worker behind the counter.

“let’s get them whatever they want.”

ji-woo, who had been clinging to her older brother, suddenly brightened.

“really?”

he gave her a soft nod, and the kids wasted no time picking out their favorite pastries.

once they were settled at a corner table, the salesman took a seat with them, hands folded neatly on the table.

“so,” ho-joon started, taking a bite of his treat, “what do you actually do for work?”

jae-hoon leaned forward.

“yeah. we never really asked you or mom before.”

the salesman smirked, tilting his head slightly.

“it’s classified.”

ho-joon huffed.

“figures.”

ji-woo, swinging her legs under the chair, looked up at him with innocent curiosity.

“but you take care of us?”

his expression softened.

“of course.” he reached out, ruffling her hair.

“everything i do is to make sure you’re all comfortable and happy.”

the kids exchanged glances. they weren’t stupid...they knew whatever their father did wasn’t normal.

at the same time, they never had to worry about anything.

they had a nice home, good education, get whatever they want, and have a life many people could only dream of.

“we know,” ho-joon finally said, leaning back in his chair.

“and we appreciate it.”

the salesman smiled again, something rare and genuine.

“i love you all. you know that, right?”

ji-woo immediately nodded.

“i know, dad.”

jae-hoon smirked.

“you could say it more often, though.”

ho-joon nudged him.

“shut up, he’s trying.”

the salesman let out a small chuckle, shaking his head.

as they finished their pastries, he checked the time before standing.

“come on. i’ll make sure you all get home safely,” he said, adjusting his suit jacket.

they walked together, the salesman taking slow strides beside them.

he wasn’t home often, but moments that were quiet, and personal with his children.. were what kept him going.

happy valentine's day <3 I hope you enjoyed :)

this took sixteen days to complete.

[sapphosclosefriend]

~ Nerd! Nat Headcanons pt 3 ~

This is 18+ content. Minors DNI!

Part 1 | Part 2

@esposadejoyhuerta here you go girl

SFW

Nerd!Nat who is incredibly excited when you go on a small vacation for your first anniversary. You surprise her with a small (a little run down) van you rented and spend a couple of days driving around beautiful places together. It's not much but it's what she's always talked about wanting to do.

Nerd! Nat who acts like she's taking pictures of the beautiful view but secretly always includes you in them. She ends up gathering all the photos she's taken of you and of the two of you together to make a little album of the memories of your first anniversary and gifts it to you.

Nerd! Nat who hugs you while lying between your legs on a blanket in a small field and falls asleep as soon as you start running your fingers through her hair. You can't help but lovingly look at her peacefully sleeping and chuckle when she wakes up, notices your eyes on her and buries her face on your front embarrassed.

Nerd! Nat who blushes like a tomato each and every time she catches you staring at her with an enamored look in your eyes, no matter how long you've been together, she'll just never get used to it.

Nerd! Nat who studies at the small desk next to her bed, turns her head and once again finds you looking at her like she's the most beautiful piece of art while lying on your stomach on her bed.

Nerd! Nat who suddenly gets bold enough to get up and walk over to the bed to stroke your cheek before holding you in place with a finger under your chin to kiss you tenderly, making you fully melt for her.

Nerd! Nat who (surprising herself) starts to get used if not happy to show pda with you and not only loves it when you initiate it, but starts doing it herself as well.

Nerd! Nat who now loves it even more when you're out with your friends and you wrap your arm around her waist or you hug her from the side.

Nerd! Nat who is anything but sporty (she's just a tall, thin little one) but still insists on accompanying you on your walks, feeling uneasy knowing you're out on your own. At the end it's a mutual benefit since you get to see her in grey sweatpants and she gets to savor you in leggings and sometimes a tank top or even a sports bra (poor Natty always ends up so flustered).

NSFW

Nerd! Nat who cums so hard when you jerk her off under the blanket while you're supposed to be watching TV together.

Nerd! Nat who immediately starts to get hard once again while you keep pumping your hand to get every last bit of cum out of her. The way you murmur in her ear, praising her for how good she was for you does nothing but worsen the problem.

Nerd! Nat who secretly loves it when you masturbate each other so she insists on “repaying you” and casually fingers you so insanely good, to the point where you shock yourself a little with the sounds she gets out of you and the way she leaves you shaking and limp after 2 orgasms.

Nerd! Nat who looks at you with big doe eyes and asks you if she did well, making you chuckle breathlessly. You realize she's so insecure she needs you to physically reassure her that she couldn't be any better before grabbing her hand to suck her fingers clean just to mess with her.

Nerd! Nat who's always loved to fuck you doggystyle but hates that she can't see your pretty face, so you start doing it facing the mirror in the room and surprise yourselves with how hot you find it to look at each other's reflection.

Nerd! Nat who, while you're on all fours, makes you feel so good you physically can't hold yourself up anymore, so you let your front fall basically face down on the bed.

Nerd! Nat who doesn't even think about it when she grips your hair to lift your head and only wants to be able to see your face again, making you moan so loud and tighten even more around her at her unexpected action.

Nerd! Nat who desperately begs you with a pout to cum for her. She always wants to wait for you to cum first because in her words “she wants to make sure you feel all the pleasure you deserve”, and seeing you orgasm makes her cum even harder inside of you.

.

.

.

Tags: @fxckmiup @natashasilverfox @fawnedolly

[leighsartworks216]

could I request it being the first time ur in a relationship for valentine's and youre not sure how to make it special for sylus because you've never celebrated before ? :)

My First Valentine

Sylus x gn!Reader

I wrote most of this today even tho the request came in a week ago 💀 sorry

Warnings: fluff, anxiety, nervousness, embarrassment, kissing, gift giving, flowers, Valentine's Day, insecurity, declarations of love, established relationship, pet names, reader is implied as being shorter/smaller than Sylus

Word Count: 1,922

Main Masterlist

First - Second - Third LADS Masterlists

AO3

Tag List Form

'45 Fun And Romantic Valentine's Day Date Ideas!' '13 Fun Valentine's Day Activities!' '25+ Romantic Things To Do This Valentine's Day!'

You sigh, closing yet another tab of holiday ideas. You don't know how many websites you've looked at now, all of them promising fantastic gifts or experiences, sure to sweep your partner off their feet. But none of them felt good enough. Not for Sylus.

All your life, Valentine's Day was another lonely day. Your friends and their partners would be out and about or getting together at home, and you'd be stuck in pjs, eating ice cream and watching the same cheesy rom-coms as the year before. The most you'd ever gotten out of the day was in school, when you'd get those little themed cards with a heart-shaped lollipop poked through them.

Now that you have a partner, every single thing you come across feels too cheesy, or like something he wouldn't be into. Not to mention, anything you could possibly buy, he could get on his own with his gobs of money.

Go on a trip? He owns his own private jet; he could go anywhere anytime.

Buy him flowers? More likely than not, they'd wilt twice as fast in the darkness of the N109 Zone.

Dinner at a restaurant means you'd have to find some really fancy place to suit his tastes to make sure he has a nice time. Cooking something yourself could hardly compare to his professional private chef's cooking.

You could get him some vinyls, but you'd hate to get him a duplicate. Weapons? Well, he's got that covered; he deals them.

Asking Luke and Kieran is a non-starter when they're equally as likely to give you good advice as fake advice that would make you look foolish.

You can't fathom how your friends make it look so easy to make plans for the day and get gifts for their partners. Though, you suppose, none of them are dating a multi-billionaire (if not multi-trillionaire or more) crime boss.

You sigh and close your laptop with a snap. What does Sylus enjoy that you can treat him to as a special holiday treat? Something you can feasibly accomplish before the actual day rolls around? Something other than a cheap visit to the arcade or the cat cafe...

Wait... Actually...

Sylus knows you live in rather modest means. He always insists you pay with his black card so you're not stressing about going broke. Why would he suddenly expect you to dish out wads of cash now on a trip or gift? Anything you give him - even if it's a cheap toy from the dollar store - he'd cherish like a gem.

And that's when the idea forms.

With all the preparations written down, you text him, bubbling with energy.

Syyyy

You seem rather playful all of a sudden. What's got you excited, kitten?

You can tell all that from one word??

No, I can tell all that because I know you

Awe 🥺 stop being so cute

Anyway!! I actually wanted to tell you that I have Valentine's Day all worked out!

Oh?

But it's a secret!

Well now I'm interested. What do I need to do for these plans of yours?

Just show up at my place at nightfall on the day of :3

That's it? Why do I feel like I'm being lured into a trap?

Oh yeah the worst trap of all a doting partner who wants to pour all their love on you

Alright. I'll see you then, kitten

But don't think I'll be showing up empty handed

I'd be concerned if you did ngl

Ily <3333333 Goodnighttt

Goodnight, sweetie. I love you too

-

For how simple your plan is - or perhaps because of how simple your plan is - you've never been more nervous in your life. You've double and triple checked everything, made sure he'll be comfortable and not too disappointed with what you've come up with, and second-guessed yourself several times about whether this is actually a good idea.

Not that it matters. You'd be really down to the wire to come up with something new now.

You pace the living room, wringing your hands together, chewing your lip, fussing with your hair. You feel like a dog excited to see its owner when you hear a patterned knock on the door. So excited you nearly trip over the corner of a blanket in your haste to answer it.

Sylus is there to greet you, an easy grin on his face and softened eyes. A large bouquet that you'd drown in rests deceptively small in the crook of his arm. A bag hangs from his other hand, but he sets it down when you step into the hall to hug him.

He chuckles fondly, squeezing you tightly to him and kissing your head. "You look cozy," he teases playfully. His fingers tug at the back of your pajamas.

You laugh nervously as you step back. "Ah, yeah. It's part of the stuff I planned, actually."

He quirks an eyebrow. "I'm a bit overdressed."

"Don't worry! I got you some!" Your face grows hot. You feel like an idiot, flustered and inexperienced. "Come in, so I can explain better."

You take the bouquet from his arm. It's full of your favorite flowers, their delightful aroma tickling your nose as you carry them into the kitchen to look for a vase. You have to rely on your muscle memory to move around; they completely block your vision. Sylus follows in after you with his bag, peering around the little space of your apartment. He'd offered to get you a bigger one, once. Somewhere with a view, soundproof walls, and all the upgraded appliances you ogled in the stores. But you refused, and he respected that, even if it meant being inconvenienced by the lack of space for someone of his size.

His eyes land on the couch, covered in blankets of all sizes. Various DVDs cover the coffee table alongside a neatly folded pair of pajamas. It's cluttered, but purposefully so, as if the mess has been built into the experience.

You find a vase (bought after the first time he bought you flowers that you had to divvy up between various drinking cups) and settle the bouquet on the small dining table. There's no room left for two people to eat there. You come back out looking a mite more disheveled than before.

You smile awkwardly up at him, eyes flickering from his face to your setup as you rock back and forth on your feet. "So! Um, I've never actually had a partner to celebrate Valentine's Day with before, so I used to get a bunch of ice cream, maybe some takeout, and I'd just spend the night on the couch with a bunch of cheesy rom-coms. And now we're together and I didn't know what I could do because you can have anything you want at any given moment. But, um, I just thought, for my first Valentine's Day with someone, I could... share my 'tradition' with you." You exhale a shaky breath. "I know it's probably not what you were expecting..."

"Sweetie," he gently interrupts your rambling. He sets the bag on the couch, then closes the space between you, holding your face in both his hands, urging you to meet his eyes. They shine with something warm and sweet, like cherry wine. "It's not what I was expecting, but it's better than anything I could have imagined."

You scoff. "You're just saying that."

He shakes his head. "I can't buy a tradition, sweetie. This is something that means a lot to you. I'm fortunate enough to be the one person who gets to share it with you; no amount of money could do that."

Your heart feels light. It floats around your chest like a balloon filled with helium. Butterflies flutter in your stomach to join in on the fun. Is this how your friends felt with their partners? It's addicting. You try to blink away the incoming tears before they can form.

"What did you bring?" you ask suddenly, redirecting the conversation away so you can have a chance to gather yourself.

Fortunately, he lets you have it. With a knowing smirk, he kisses your forehead and steps away back to the couch. You miss the proximity immediately.

He pulls out each item one by one, holding it up to show you. "Wine. I can't say anything about how it'll taste, but the label was pretty, so I thought you'd like it." He sets it on the coffee table.

"You mentioned that you liked to go to the store the day after to buy the discounted candy. Well, it wasn't discounted, but I grabbed a variety." Those remain in the bag, but he has to shift it all around to reach something at the bottom.

He seems the most proud of - and the most nervous for - this one. He glances over at you before he pulls it out, as though double checking he has your attention. From the bag comes a hoodie, that he holds by the shoulders to let it unfold. It's nothing too special to look at, but the size is what strikes you. When he holds it up, it's clearly the perfect size for him. His ears tinge pink as he holds it out for you.

"You complained once that I don't have any hoodies for you to steal, like other couples do," he reminds you, voice soft and vulnerable.

He watches carefully as you step forward and reach out to feel the material. It's soft. So soft. You take it into your arms. The familiar scent of Sylus wafts up from the fabric; his body wash, his cologne, him. You hold it up to your nose to smell it better as you look up at him in awe.

"I wore it for a couple days," he admits. "If you don't like it, I can-"

"I love it." You really are going to cry now. You step forward, clinging the hoodie to your chest as he wraps his arms around you. "Sy, this means so much to me. I'm never gonna be able to take it off."

He chuckles. His arms squeeze you just a bit tighter, pull you a bit closer. "I'm glad. You're my first Valentine, too."

You pull back enough to look up at him. Your eyes are glassy, surprise to earnest on your face. "Wha- Really?"

"You sound surprised."

"Well, I mean, I just- You're so... you. That's a compliment, by the way."

"I was waiting for the right partner," he says with a huff of laughter. He dips his head down, soft lips capturing yours in a meaningful kiss. When he speaks again, it's in soft murmurs between kisses. "I'll go change... into the pajamas you got me... and then... we can watch... your movies."

The butterflies are back in full force. Each kiss has them flittering about, doing swoops and swirls in your stomach, wings tickling your insides. "Okay... Mm, but, stay here a bit longer..."

He smiles against your lips, hands sliding up your body to hold your face as he tilts his head, yearning to taste more of you, feel more of you. "Love you, sweetheart..."

You blindly set the hoodie on the arm of the couch to hold his fancy shirt in both hands, drawing him closer, knuckles brushing against the defined muscle beneath the fabric. "I love you, Sylus... Mm, so much... so much..."

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @armycaratlover @sylusfluffymeow @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter @thelittlebutton @pikachuzhc @pomegranatepip @cordidy @an-ever-angry-bi @thejysemongko @deusfoundry @that-lost-one @always-just-red @22carolina08 @lunaizhere @sine-nomine0 @beautifulthingsiadore @lalaluch @burningtrashgentleman

[ayumigotabittoolonely]

Valentine's special

SYPNOSIS : valentine's day has come and so has your boyfriend's excitement (some of you are married)

When I said everyone I meant every one including jogo

1 2 3

Nanami kento (husband)

Nanami Kento x Reader 7th Valentine’s Day Together

The Thoughtful Tradition – Nanami believes in consistency, so every year, he writes you a heartfelt letter instead of just buying a card. Seven years in, he’s got a little collection of them stored away, each one a deeper testament to his love. This year, he hands you the envelope with slightly pink-tinted ears, murmuring, “I tried to outdo last year’s, but words always fall short with you.”

Breakfast in Bed – He’s up early, making sure your favorite breakfast is prepared to perfection. No work today, he insists, pushing a plate toward you with that ever-so-soft look in his eyes. He even makes your coffee exactly how you like it, and if you’re feeling mischievous, you tug him back into bed with you for some extra cuddles. (Which he pretends to resist, but we all know he melts the second you bury your face in his chest.)

A Home Cooked Candlelit Dinner – Forget overpriced restaurants Nanami insists on making dinner himself because he wants everything to be personal. He spent days planning the menu, picking up ingredients from that one small market he trusts, and ensuring every dish is cooked to perfection. The moment he serves you, he watches for your reaction, waiting for that pleased little hum of approval.

The Gift Exchange – You both go all out for each other, but Nanami always leans toward something meaningful. This year, he surprises you with a customized piece of jewelry something discreet yet elegant, engraved with a tiny, personal message only the two of you would understand. And when you give him your gift, whether it’s a perfectly tailored suit, a sentimental keepsake, or even a scrapbook of your seven years together, you can see the way he swallows hard, genuinely touched.

Slow Dancing in the Living Room – After dinner, there’s no rush to do anything else. He simply takes your hand, pulls you into his arms, and sways with you to soft jazz playing in the background. It’s warm, safe, and intimate the kind of moment where you realize this is what love is. And when he leans down, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your forehead, he murmurs, “Seven years still isn’t enough. I hope you’re ready for a lifetime more.”

Gojo Satoru (boyfie)

Gojo Satoru x Reader The Most Chaotic valentine's

He Plans… Sort Of? – Gojo insists he has the perfect Valentine’s Day planned. The problem? He made the plans at 3 AM, half-awake, while eating candy, so the itinerary is questionable at best. He tells you to “just trust him” with that smug grin, but you already know chaos is coming.

The Over-the-Top Gift – This man does not do simple. He probably buys you way too many presents expensive jewelry, limited-edition snacks, a plushie that looks exactly like you (creepy, but also kinda cute???). And just for the drama, he hands you a small box first, acting all serious… only for it to contain a single mint or a terrible pun written on a sticky note. He thinks it’s hilarious. (Don’t worry, he actually got you something breathtaking, he just likes messing with you first.)

A Date That Feels Like a Fever Dream – Gojo doesn’t believe in boring dates, so expect something wild. Ice skating at an exclusive rink that he rented out just for you two? A spontaneous trip to another country just for dessert? Taking you to the highest rooftop just to show you the best view? He’s a menace, but he makes sure every second is fun and unforgettable.

Loud, Dramatic Love Confessions – He never stops talking about how much he loves you. He’s saying it every five minutes, in front of strangers, to strangers—he literally stops an old lady on the street just to say, “Ma’am, isn’t my partner the most beautiful person you’ve ever seen?” (She agrees, obviously.)

The Softest, Most Unexpected Moment – Somewhere in the chaos, there’s a pause. You’re both sitting somewhere maybe watching the city lights, maybe just lying down after running around all day. And suddenly, Gojo is quiet. His fingers trace slow circles on your palm, and when he speaks, his voice is softer than usual. “You know… I don’t think I could’ve made it this far without you.”

A Love That Feels Like Forever – He pulls you closer, pressing a lingering kiss to your temple, and murmurs, “Every day with you feels like Valentine’s, y’know?” And in that moment, you realize Gojo Satoru might be the most chaotic man alive, but when he loves, he loves with everything he has.

Geto suguru (post fall sorry)

Post-Fall Geto Suguru x Reader A Bittersweet Valentine’s Day

The Silent Acknowledgment – Suguru isn’t the same man he was before, and you both know it. Valentine’s Day used to be something sweet a day filled with laughter and lighthearted teasing. But now, there’s an unspoken weight to it. He doesn’t say anything about the day at first, but you know he remembers. He always remembers.

A Late-Night Visit – You don’t expect anything, not from this version of him. But when night falls, there’s a soft knock at your door. And there he is tired, a little disheveled, but unmistakably Suguru. He doesn’t say much, just, “Mind if I come in?” His voice is quieter than usual, almost hesitant, like he’s fighting an internal battle just by being here.

A Simple Gesture, a Complex Meaning – He’s not the type to bring flowers anymore, but he does place something small on the table. A single, folded piece of paper. You recognize his handwriting immediately. It’s not an elaborate love letter just a simple, raw, unpolished confession. A reminder that even after everything, even after the blood on his hands, you are still the one thing he can never erase from his heart.

A Moment of Vulnerability – He sits on your couch, running a hand through his hair, sighing. You know he’s tired not just physically, but emotionally, mentally. And yet, when you place your hand over his, he doesn’t pull away. He just looks at you, something aching in his expression, and murmurs, “Do you ever regret it?”

A Love That Still Lingers – You tell him the truth: never. Because no matter how much he’s changed, how much distance he’s tried to put between you, your love for him has never wavered. And for a split second, the Geto Suguru you knew is there again the one who used to tease you, who used to hold you so effortlessly. He lets out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “You’re too good for me.”

The Goodbye That Always Hurts – He doesn’t stay the night. He never does. When the clock strikes midnight, he rises, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face before murmuring, “Happy Valentine’s, sweetheart.” And just like that, he’s gone leaving behind only the lingering warmth of his presence and the quiet ache of knowing he’ll always come back, but never stay.

(don't come for me i m my biggest hater , I hate myself for this 😭)

Sukuna

Ryomen Sukuna x Reader A Valentine’s Day 💀

First of All, He Does Not Care. (Or So He Says.) – If you expect Sukuna to be the type to celebrate Valentine’s Day like a normal man, you’re delusional. The second you mention the holiday, he scoffs. “Tch. What a pathetic, human tradition.” But guess what? By the end of the day, he’s still making it all about him and you.

The “Gift” Is a Power Move – Sukuna absolutely gives you a “gift,” but it’s something stupidly extravagant, just to show off. A throne? A legendary weapon? A cursed object with a horrifying backstory? If you ask for flowers, he’ll probably massacre an entire enchanted garden and present it to you like he just did you the biggest favor. “There. A hundred dead roses. Happy?”

Dinner… If You Survive It – He definitely takes you somewhere insane, whether you like it or not. “We’re feasting,” he declares and next thing you know, you’re seated at a cursed banquet where the dishes move and the drinks are probably forbidden. If you hesitate to eat something, he smirks and says, “What? Don’t trust me?” (No, you don’t, but you’re also not about to give him the satisfaction of saying it.)

Possessiveness Disguised as Indifference – If anyone dares to look at you the wrong way on Valentine’s, they’re dead. Simple. But if you call him out on it, he just shrugs. “I don’t care what weaklings do,” he mutters. But the way his hand lingers on your waist? The way his claws tighten ever so slightly when someone gets too close? Yeah, he cares.

The Unexpectedly Soft Moment (That He Will Deny Forever) – Somewhere in the chaos, there’s a moment when it’s just you and him. Maybe you’re sitting on the temple steps, maybe you’re staring at the moon. And for once, he’s not teasing or threatening you. He just looks at you really looks at you and says, “Tch. You’re lucky I tolerate you.” But his voice is lower, almost… fond.

The “Goodnight” That Isn’t Really a Goodnight – If you expect a sweet ending, please be serious. Sukuna does not whisper loving confessions or pull you into a tender embrace. No, he just smirks and says something infuriating like, “Don’t get used to this.” But the way his hand lingers on your wrist for just a second longer? The way he doesn’t let you go to bed without pulling you into his lap first? That’s his version of love. And honestly? It’s kind of addicting.

Me with geto suguru :

[pretentious-blonde]

never second best

pairing: steve harrington x reader

summary: after a run-in with his ex, steve reassures you that you'll never be second best, proving it in a way he knows will stick

warnings: 18+ this is smut, graphic depictions of sex, p in v, oral (f receiving), tears, insecurity

a/n: part 5 but can be read as a standalone. half of this is super long, pure filth, AND my first time writing smut so pls feedback is welcome. thank you @andvys so so much, hopefully, i didn't let you down <3

series masterlist

Steve perched on the edge of his neatly-made bed, hair painstakingly combed into that signature swoop, the red knit jumper hugging his broad shoulders just so. The sleeves are pushed up to reveal his forearms—a look he recently realised drives you a little wild, and one he now makes an effort to wear often. 

He liked to catch you staring. 

He’s wearing his go-to faded jeans, and every time he glances your way, his eyes take on a softer appearance. You’ve already spent some time in his room before, but every time he sees you there, he still can’t believe you’re in his space.

He’s trying—really trying—not to grin too widely. If he breaks into the excited smile he’s been fighting all morning, he worries he might come off too eager. But truth be told, he is too eager. Hosting Dustin’s birthday party is one thing, but now he has the honour of introducing you to everyone. Officially. 

He’s practically bursting at the chance to show you off, the very thought turned his mind all giddy. Knowing that you would be the one with his arm around your waist for everyone to witness. 

The idea distracted him from the real drama occurring not four feet away from him. 

From your spot by the mirror, you can see him watching you, and it sets your stomach off again. You’re not sure why today feels so monumental. You’ve met Dustin in passing, shared a few laughs with Robin over coffee after she basically saved your relationship a few weeks back.

But tonight is the full show. Everyone. All at once. And for some reason, your carefully chosen outfit no longer feels quite right. You tug the hem of your top self-consciously, tilt your head, and scrunch your nose at your reflection.

“I look awful,” you say, voice laced with the sort of frustration that’s all nerves. “This looked so much better in my head.”

His brow furrows, and he pushes off the bed in a single fluid motion. “That’s nonsense,” he replies, crossing the room to you in three quick strides. He rests his hands lightly on your shoulders, gaze flicking to meet yours in the mirror. "You look beautiful, sweetheart. Always do. You know that."

You huff out a breath, trying not to get lost in the warmth of his praise—easier said than done.

“No, I don’t,” you insist, staring critically at your clothes. “I should’ve brought something else.”

“Well…do you have anything else here?” He asks gently.

There were little traces of you scattered around—a few forgotten items here and there, most notably, the new toothbrush sitting beside his. Still, nine times out of ten, you took your clothes home, leaving behind only your pajamas.

“A set of pajamas.” You sigh dramatically, cursing yourself for not packing more than one option. “That’s about it.”

“Hey, that could work,” he teases, eyes crinkling with amusement. “That’s one of my favourite looks on you.” His hands slide down your arms, his grin growing as he watches your reaction.

Under normal circumstances you would lean into his teasing, but this was not the time. You turn to give him a shove, but he catches your wrist before it can make an impact.

“Steve,” you whine, trying to see the humour in this the way he is.

“What? I’m just being honest,” he says, eyes dancing. “Would you rather I lie?” 

Truth is, he does love you in those pajamas—almost as much as he loves you wearing his old shirts. Honestly, you could throw on a trash bag, and he’d still think you’re stunning.

“Please stop,” you groan.

You’re not smiling the way you usually do at his jokes—no little giggle, no playful roll of the eyes. 

The shift clicks for him: you’re actually stressed. 

Concern crosses his features, and the jovial edge in his voice softens. He lowers his tone, warmth flowing through each word, and slides his hands down to cradle your waist.

“Alright,” he murmurs, thumbs drawing gentle circles against your hips. “Talk to me. What’s not working here?”

“I don’t know,” you admit, exhaling as you sink into him. “I just feel… unprepared. I mean, I’m meeting everyone. Should I have brought something? I should’ve baked. Everyone likes baked goods.”

A breathy chuckle escapes him, and he tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear. 

Like you’re not already sweet enough.

“Angel, Robin is bringing the cake. And you”—he squeezes your waist a little firmer—“are a guest here. Your only job is to relax and look pretty. Can you do that for me? Please?”

The earnestness in his voice steals the protest right out of your throat. You look up at him, heart thumping in that heady way it does whenever he turns on the charm full-blast. 

Damn those big, stupid brown eyes. 

You turn back to the mirror, pulling at your shirt once again. There’s a crease here, a wrinkle there—things no one else would ever notice, but to you, it’s just off. You can feel his eyes on you, his concern and affection practically radiating from behind. 

He’s been so excited, so patient, and yet you can’t shake the last bit of anxiety churning in your stomach about today.

In the reflection, you watch him hover, trying to be casual even though you can see every thought flit across his expressive face. He wants you to be happy and comfortable. He wants to show you off and make sure you feel like a million bucks doing it.

“Can I wear something of yours?” you ask softly, turning to meet those wide, hopeful eyes. “I want something more comfortable.”

Comfortable.

His heart practically leaps at your request. He’s not sure why that single sentence sends a jolt of excitement through him, but it does—and it’s powerful. He tries to school his expression into something normal, but the eager beam that spreads across his face betrays him.

“Absolutely,” he says far too quickly, glad to be of use. “Knock yourself out. Have at it—any one you want.”

He opens the wardrobe, stepping aside like he’s unveiling some prized collection. You slip past him, still self-conscious, but the warm brush of his hand on your lower back comforts you. 

Leafing through the soft fabrics, you finally find one that matches the rest of your outfit—a cosy, oversized number that’s equally stylish and undeniably Steve’s. You hold it up, glancing back at him for approval.

He grins—big, unabashed. “Fantastic choice,” he declares, in an exaggeratedly formal tone meant to make you laugh.

It works—you giggle. The sound washes over him like a balm, chasing away the worry in his eyes. 

He lives for that sound.

Then, your focus shifts back to the mirror. You pull off your shirt in one smooth motion, baring your bra and the long, graceful stretch of your spine. 

The air feels cooler against your newly exposed skin, and you instantly sense the spark of awareness coming from the boy behind you.

He goes still. A part of him wants to look away, to be respectful, yet he can’t stop his eyes from drifting along the curve of your waist and the softness just above your navel.

He’s had the privilege of touching your bare skin before—tentative, lingering caresses that never ventured too far. He’s wanted more, of course he has. He’s human—he’s got a pulse. 

But you deserve slow. You deserve a careful pace, no pressure. He’d beat himself up about it for weeks if he even thought he made you uncomfortable.

But that didn’t stop his mind from running. 

He wanted to trail his fingertips down every inch of your body, to feel you melt under his touch. Imagining the way you’d arch into his palms, voice breathless as it tickled his ear, egging him on. Images of pressing you up against the mirror, sliding his hands across your hips, your ribs, your chest, discovering every inch he’s been dying to explore. 

He tears his eyes away, cheeks heating at his own explicit thoughts. 

You slide his jumper over your head, letting the fabric fall into place. Instantly, you’re enveloped in the faint smell of him: cologne, fabric softener, a hint of hairspray. 

You turn, a playful, knowing smirk on your face, you catch the flush on his cheeks—his pupils slightly dilated, his posture taut with the effort of keeping his hands to himself.

“More comfortable?” he asks, managing a wobbly smile.

“Yeah,” you smooth the jumper over your sides, nodding. “Much better.”

A smile spreads slowly across his face, relief flooding his features. He steps closer, gently adjusting the jumper on your shoulders, as if making sure you’re perfectly bundled in his warmth. His knuckles skim your collarbone, the gesture sends a pleasant shiver through you.

“Good,” he murmurs. In the silence that follows, you can almost hear the unspoken thoughts swirling behind his eyes. He drops his hands, brushes a quick kiss to your temple, and lets out a breath. “Come on, let’s get downstairs before the others barge in. The peace isn’t gonna last once the party kicks off.”

The house was buzzing with the kind of kinetic energy that made the walls hum. You can feel it reverberating through the soles of your feet the moment you step back into the living room. The cosy space was adorned with colourful streamers and a Happy Birthday! banner—Dustin’s own insistence, of course.

Steve had nearly suffered a heart attack watching you put it up single-handedly earlier, bursting into the room just in time to steady the wobbling chair beneath you.

I mean, Jesus, were you trying to take years off his life?

You had been blissfully unaware of the impending disaster, balancing precariously as if gravity was a suggestion. 

He had been right there. You could have asked for help. But no—apparently, terrifying him was just part of the fun.

None of that mattered now the party was in full swing, chatter overlapping, laughter weaving in and out of a sweetly melancholic track Max had just dropped onto the record player.

He had introduced you with obvious pride, making sure to state—loud and clear—that you were his girlfriend. Watching you greet everyone with a tender smile. His attention lingered on each reaction, quietly noting how they took in the girl he was lucky enough to call his.

It felt like unveiling a winning hand in a game he never expected to play so well—like holding onto something rare and knowing, deep down, that he’d beaten the odds.

You quickly spot your host—your boyfriend—hovering near the stereo console, running a hand through his hair, trying to appear unruffled while Max and Lucas sift through his precious vinyls. And in typical Steve fashion, failing at appearing calm, because he can’t quite hide his grin when he sees you looking. 

From across the room, he gives you a gentle wave, checking that you’re still alright. His eyes stay on you as you maneuver around the coffee table and dodge a crumb-strewn plate that might have once held cake but now looks suspiciously empty.

“Hey,” he greets, sliding an arm around your waist the second you’re within reach. His hand settles warm and comforting at your side, fingertips lightly pressing into the soft fabric of the borrowed sweater. 

“Hey yourself,” you reply, leaning into the contact without a second thought.

He seems to shine in a way you haven’t seen before. Surrounded by the people he calls family, he’s the best version of himself, brimming with confidence and a natural leadership that emerges when he’s trying to make sure everyone else is okay. 

You see it in the way he’s just handed Max the next record she was eyeing (despite complaining it’s not appropriate music for a birthday party), the way he’s offered Dustin a refill on his drink twice in the last ten minutes, and the way his entire face softens whenever he looks at you.

You hear Will’s loud gasp behind you—apparently, Jonathan just teased him about some underground album you had never heard of. The brown-haired boy claps a hand on his brother’s shoulder, spinning him into an ongoing argument about what to play next. 

Meanwhile, Robin’s perched on the arm of the couch, describing some comedic fiasco at work with her trademark flair for dramatics. You catch only snippets—something about a misfiled horror movie in the kids’ section, a frantic parent demanding a refund, and Steve heroically stepping in to salvage the day.

He rolls his eyes at that particular story, mouth curving in a half-smile. “She’s gonna exaggerate it,” he mutters to you, “just watch.”

You grin, nudging him gently. “Hey, maybe it’ll make you look good.”

“What, me saving the day?” He shakes his head. “Sweetheart, I already look great,” he says in a faux-arrogant tone, then immediately flushes when he realises how that might’ve sounded. But you know him well enough to catch the joking glint in his eye, so you laugh.

“C’mon, Steve,” comes a voice from the left—Nancy, stepping forward with a cautious smile. Her hair is pinned back, a few strands framing her face, and she looks surprisingly at ease despite the chaos around her. “Give yourself some credit. You’re basically running a daycare every shift the amount of times the kids are there,” she teases, though her tone is warm, not biting.

“Yeah, well, if it keeps me from being bored outta my mind, guess it’s worth it.” He snorts.

You shift, letting Nancy into the conversation fully. She meets your gaze with an inviting smile, and it strikes you how nice she is. 

Steve had mentioned her coming, and at first, it rubbed you the wrong way. Not in a dramatic, soap-opera kind of way, but in that small discomfort that settled in your stomach before you could talk yourself out of it.

You didn’t want to be that person—the one who couldn’t handle a little shared history, who needed their partner to rewrite the past just to make the present more comfortable. But still, the thought sat with you longer than you liked.

Steve had noticed, of course. He was too perceptive when it came to you, reading the tension in your jaw before you even had the words to explain it. So he reassured you—gently, patiently, with that soft-eyed sincerity he always had when something really mattered.

Without hesitation, he’d offered to uninvite her. But you shook your head because that wasn’t fair. If they were all part of the same friend group, who were you to come in and break it apart? Nancy was part of his history, but that didn’t mean she had to be an issue in his future.

And if he could move forward without looking over his shoulder, then so could you.

She was not the intimidating figure you’d somewhat imagined— the girl he had cared about so deeply in the past. Instead, she’s approachable, her eyes bright with curiosity as she acknowledges you.

“Hi,” she says, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “I don’t think we’ve had a real chance to talk yet. I’m Nancy.” She offers her hand, and you take it, noticing the gentle, firm shake.

“It’s really nice to finally meet you properly.” You tell her, giving your name in return. “Steve’s told me a bit about you.”

She arches a brow at him, a playful glint there. “All good things, I hope?”

“Nothing but the best.” He raises both hands, half-defensive. 

She laughs quietly, then turns that inquisitive gaze back to you.

“So, I heard you’re, um… you work in—”

“Journalism,” you supply with a small nod. “It’s not as glamorous as it sounds, but I really like it. Kinda took your place at the Hawkins Post.” You joke. “They treat me a lot better now though. It’s not anything huge, but I get to read new articles, help shape them a bit, get the occasional coffee run… it’s fun and sometimes totally insane.”

Steve leans in, beaming with pride. 

It had gotten easier—less and less often did you show up at his house on the verge of tears after a shift. Turns out, grown men get pretty uncomfortable when you call them out on their bullshit directly. And damn, was he proud when they finally started taking you seriously.

He always knew they would. You’re a smart girl, after all.

“She’s underselling it.” He says, without the slightest bit of shame, gently nudging your shoulder. “She’s great at what she does.” 

“That sounds so much better than when I was there.” She shakes her head, reminiscing about her experiences. “I still do a lot of writing myself. I’m working at a local paper in Massachusetts right now.”

Something about her tone clicks into place for you, like a puzzle piece sliding in. 

“Right, Steve mentioned. You like it?”

“Yeah. It’s… challenging, to say the least.” She nods, crossing her arms loosely. “Still a small paper, still small stories. But I’m building my portfolio, hoping to maybe do bigger pieces eventually.” 

A warm sense of camaraderie blooms in your chest. You completely understand that hustle, that feeling of needing to push through the drudge work to get to the fulfilling stuff. 

“Oh, absolutely,” you say. “I used to think I’d be working on these huge headlines right off the bat, but it was mostly basic editing work. Still,” you add, “I’m kind of a sucker for persevering.”

Her eyes crinkle with a real smile, and for a moment, it’s just you two, connecting over the rollercoaster that is words. 

“I know exactly what you mean. It’s exciting to be at the start of something, you know?”

“Makes the early mornings and late evenings worth it,” you tease, and she laughs. 

This was easier than you thought.

The conversation flows so smoothly that you almost forget the context—that this is Steve’s ex you’re talking to, that the only reason you even worried about her presence was because of that shared history. But here she is: easy to talk to, friendly, and—if you’re honest—reminding you a bit of yourself in how she lights up when discussing her work. You could understand how Steve fell for her in the first place. 

And that’s when it happens: Dustin bounces by with a half-eaten cake slice, eyes going wide as he sees you and Nancy chatting. He glances between you, leans in—crumbs falling from his mouth as he finishes eavesdropping. 

“Whoa, you guys are so alike.”

“Took you long enough to notice.” Erica chuckles, passing behind him.

Steve nearly chokes on air. “Excuse me?”

“I told you—” Dustin smirks at Steve, “both super nice, pushy in a good way, and way too into all that reportage stuff.” He wiggles his eyebrows. “Patterns, man. I see them.”

Nancy, amused, shakes her head but doesn’t deny it. Meanwhile, you feel a curious prickle in your stomach. 

Even though you haven’t felt threatened by Nancy at all, it’s… interesting, hearing Dustin phrase it that way, noting how similar the two of you are.

Before you can dwell on it, Steve is in full damage control mode, waving Dustin away. 

“All right, all right, that’s enough outta you, birthday boy.”

Dustin, unbothered, snickers, then scampers off to deposit his napkin onto Jonathan’s pile of party rubbish. You catch Nancy’s eye, and she looks like she wants to say something, but a flush of colour creeps across her cheeks instead. You wonder if she’s embarrassed at the topic or if she’s also noting how the conversation just positioned you and her in the same category.

“Anyway,” Nancy says softly, clearing her throat, “it was really nice talking to you. And I do want to chat more about writing. Would be great if our paths were to cross again.”

“Sure. ” You nod, smiling. “Anytime.”

She dips her head in a polite goodbye, departing to rescue Mike from an argument with Lucas. That leaves you and Steve standing there in the aftermath of Dustin’s remarks.

“Uh… sorry about that,” he mumbles, glancing down at you. “Dustin’s always been, like, embarrassingly direct.”

A wry smile tugs at your lips. “It’s okay. I’m not offended.”

The evening drifts into its final hours with a soft sun lingering in the corners of Steve’s living room windows. Most of the balloons have deflated a little, and the noise has died down into pockets of lingering conversation. 

Dustin’s boisterous laugh echoes one last time as he heads out the door, hauling an armful of presents. Max trails behind him with the rest of the kids, carrying a few he couldn’t manage. She pauses to give you a small nod and a grin—her quiet way of saying, I like you.

You thought at first she was a tad standoffish, but her actions made you feel accepted into the small group. And if they approve of you, that's a sign that maybe you do belong here, in this makeshift family. 

Not that you’re getting ahead of yourself or anything…

Robin departs next, hooking her arm through Erica’s at the last second to drag her into some half-joking conversation about finally getting a break from babysitting Steve. Which she wholeheartedly agreed with, even if she was multiple years his junior. 

Nancy laughs, glancing your way as if to share the humour, and you wave goodbye with a soft smile. Jonathan, her hand in his, offers you a polite nod. They looked so in sync, bodies unconsciously angled toward each other, moving as a unit. There’s no tension, no leftover drama—just two people who found their other half. 

The thought made you more anxious than relieved. 

When the door finally shuts, the hush that falls over the house is unsettling. You can still hear the faint crackle of the record player, the needle resting in a quiet groove before you switched it off. Now, there’s just the quiet clink of dishes in the kitchen and the soft hum of Steve’s voice—he’s singing along to the old radio as he stacks up the glasses. He told you he had it under control, and knowing you didn’t like the feeling of leftover food in the sink, he took this job for the team.

You’re left gathering discarded wrappers and balled-up napkins, your mind spiraling in circles you really don’t want to follow but couldn’t help yourself.

Nancy is lovely. Infuriatingly so. 

In fact, she was so kind, so pleasant, that it almost stings more than if she’d been cold. Because it means you can’t hate her. Not that it was your goal to do so, but you couldn’t just dismiss her as some memory in Steve’s past. 

She was right for him once, and the knowledge of how closely her life aligns with yours—similar ambitions, the same drive for success, the spark of curiosity—makes your throat feel tight.

What if Steve also sees her in you? What if every moment you thought was unique and special was just him trying to relive something he used to have with her?

You can’t stand the idea, but the rational side of your brain doesn’t seem to be cooperating. 

Steve isn’t cruel. You know that. 

He’s never been anything but considerate, thoughtful, patient with you. Hell, the amount of times he was there for you—without hesitation, without needing to be asked. Holding your hand when you were nervous, pressing a kiss to your temple when you overthought, making you laugh when you wanted to cry.

He had never once made you feel like an afterthought. He was all in. And yet, the thought gnawed at you—was he here because he chose you, or because he was still reaching for a shadow of the past? Was he even aware he was chasing her ghost?

Your fingers tighten around a crumpled paper plate, and you swallow against the lump forming in your throat. You wonder if you really are just a Nancy 2.0 as you step into the kitchen, tossing the rubbish in the bin and retreating back to the now clean living room. Not wanting to talk to him just yet. 

The water stops running, the tap squeaking as Steve turns it off. You hear him dry his hands on a dish towel, then he appears in the doorway, face lighting up for a moment—until he sees your expression.

“Finished in the kitchen,” he starts, voice warm and a little proud, then pauses. “...What’s wrong?”

He settles beside you on the couch, the cushions dipping under his weight. Your shoulders tense a little—his proximity normally soothes you, but tonight, your mind won’t quiet down, and every small gesture feels magnified. He notices immediately.

“Nothing,” you say, forcing a small, tight smile. “I really liked your friends. They’re all super sweet. I can see why you get along so well.”

“Oh yeah?” There’s a warmth in his tone, a hopeful rise.

You nod, dropping your eyes to your hands. He slides closer, until his knee brushes against yours. 

“You even got Erica to like you,” he points out, sounding genuinely impressed. “It took me weeks to win her over, and you waltz in and manage it in a few hours? So not fair.”

You can’t help the soft laugh that escapes. “I’m sure she’s just being polite.”

A quick scoff breaks from Steve’s throat. “Erica doesn’t do polite unless she means it.” He places his hand lightly on your arm, and despite the tension coiled in your chest, you feel a rush of affection at the contact. “No, seriously—I loved having you here, angel. Made the whole day so much better.”

“Really?” you ask, voice wavering just enough that he picks up on your uncertainty.

“Well, yeah,” he answers, brow creasing. “I’m just glad they didn’t scare you off.”

Your lips form a weak smile. “Oh, they didn’t.”

But there’s something about your tone—some waver you can’t quite hide—and his eyes sharpen. 

“Okay, spill,” he says, leaning in. “What’s going on?”

“Huh?” You try to keep your expression neutral, but his gaze pins you.

“I know you,” he insists, a furrow carving between his brows. “You’re stressed about something.”

“I’m so not,” you counter, folding your arms tight against your chest.

“Yeah, you are,” he replies, undeterred. “You have tells.”

“Tells?” you echoed.

“Yes, tells.” He shifts forward, voice low. “So tell me—what’s on your mind? Did someone say something? Because I swear to god—”

“Steve,” you cut him off, irritation sparking. “Nobody said anything.”

“Then what is it? Was I too much? I swear I just wanted people to know how much I—”

“Steve,” you say again, louder this time, frustration rolling through you in a hot wave. “I’m fine. Drop it.”

His expression crumples the instant your sharp tone slices through the air. It’s like someone yanked the rug out from under him, and he sits there, quiet and unsure, those warm eyes losing some of their usual shine. It kills you to see him look so hurt, and you can practically feel the guilt creeping up your spine.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs at last, voice soft and almost hesitant. “You… you don’t have to come to the next one. If it wasn’t fun, or if it was too much—”

“That’s not it,” you say, cutting him off. You watch the confusion linger on his face, and it only makes the ache in your chest worse. 

He just wanted to have a good time, to share his world with you. 

And now here you are, turning what seemed like a perfect day into something heavy and complicated.

“Then—what?” His shoulders sag. “I don’t know what else could’ve gone wrong.” His gaze flits over your features, looking for answers you haven’t yet spoken.

You swallow, steeling yourself. 

“It was just… Nancy.”

“Nancy?” Steve’s eyes widen in surprise. “I thought you two got along really well tonight.”

“Yeah,” you admit, speaking around the lump in your throat. “We did.”

He pushes a breath through his nose, like he’s sifting through every possible explanation and coming up empty.

“I thought you’d, I don’t know, bond over books or something. I mean, I know you were anxious before, but you’re both so… nice. She’s already with Jonathan, you’ve got me—”

“Steve.” You cut him off again, trying not to let your voice waver. “We’re similar. That’s the problem.”

He blinks. “What d’you mean?” His tone is gentle, even though you see the concern in his eyes.

You rake a hand through your hair, fighting for the right words. He shifts forward, bracing himself.

“Steve, we’re really similar,” you say at last, voice low. 

“Okay?” He nods, urging you to continue. “So you have some shared interests. Where are we going with this, sweetheart?”

A shaky breath escapes you, and you force yourself to look him in the eye. 

“Are you sure you’re not still… looking for her?”

He frowns, confused. “Looking for her? I don’t—”

“Yes, Steve. Searching for someone like Nancy because you couldn’t have her. Like I’m just the next best thing. Even the kids picked up on how alike we are.” Your voice cracks, and you hate how vulnerable you sound. “I don’t want to be some bullshit replacement, filling up the space she left behind.”

All it takes is that one word—bullshit—and the floor drops out beneath him. 

You’re looking at him, voice trembling with hurt, and the realisation that you think you’re not enough guts him. Because he knows that feeling too well. He’s been there, on the other end, wondering if he was any good for anyone. But this? This is a thousand times worse. Because it’s you—and if there’s one thing in this world he’s certain of, it’s you.

He can’t stand the heartbreak in your eyes. Can’t stand the idea that he might be the one making you feel that way. His mind scrambles for something, anything, that might put your mind at ease—words to counteract that awful notion of being not enough. 

Then, suddenly, clarity strikes. He can’t think of anything else but to go full-force, stern, direct, because you’re far too precious for soft reassurances that could be mistaken or ignored.

“Hey,” he says, voice firm enough to startle even himself, “listen to me and listen to me good, all right?”

He can see how shocked you are at the tone he’s using; you go still, your gaze locking on him in a way that assures him every word will sink in. It has to.

“Never—and I mean never—are you some kind of half-ass replacement. You hear me? So get that thought out of your head right now.”

He’s never spoken to you quite like this before, but desperation thrums under every syllable. 

I can’t lose you. Please believe me.

“I don’t care how long it takes or how many times I have to say it—you are not second place. You are not a replacement. I didn’t settle for you, I chose you. You think I’d waste my time with someone I didn’t want wholeheartedly?”

He asks the question as though there’s no logical answer except the truth: Of course he wouldn’t. And he can’t stop now; your silence pushes him to continue. He needs you to know.

“God, if you could see yourself the way I do, you’d never think this again. You would never doubt how much I love you. How stupidly lucky I feel every day just to have you. You are not some ghost of my past. You are my future. And nothing—no one—could ever change that.”

There’s a ringing in his ears from the intensity of his own words, and he breathes hard, every muscle coiled with tension. Your eyes are wide, shining with an emotion he can’t decipher—shock, relief, maybe both. He hopes to God his message got through.

And then—amid the silence—your voice comes out soft, almost a whisper. 

“You love me?”

The question slices through him like lightning. He falters, suddenly off-balance. 

Fuck.

Because he’s just laid bare his entire heart, more than he’s ever dared to before. But there’s no taking it back. No gentle way to hedge now.

“Yes.” He swallows. His voice is steadier than he feels inside. “I do... Simple as that.”

That was all it took.

The words barely leave his mouth before you surge forward, meeting him in a kiss that’s all teeth and tongue, messy and urgent, the taste of each other a heady mix of relief and need. 

He gasps when you grip the collar of his sweater, tugging him closer, refusing to let a single breath of space linger between you. In response, his hands slide down your waist, pulling you tight against him until he can feel every curve, every line of your body against his.

“God,” he rasps against your mouth, already sounding relieved. “You—fuck.”

You hum a soft, breathy laugh escapes as he hauls you closer, helping you out as you sit and straddle his lap. His mouth is trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your throat as you sink your fingers into his hair, tugging, making him hiss against your lips.

He’s so desperate he doesn’t know where to touch first—fingers skimming over the curve of your hip, the dip of your waist, sliding boldly beneath the hem of your—his—jumper to feel the heat of your skin. 

Everything about you feels like an invitation, a promise he’s craved for far too long. And each gasp, each little whimper you give him, only fuels that growing ache inside of him.

“Steve,” you whisper, voice cracking with urgency. He glances up, eyes dark, pupils blown. There’s something unbridled there—devotion, longing, raw determination to make sure you never doubt him again.

He pulls you closer, one hand curling around your waist, the other sliding around to grip your ass, pulling you flush against the growing hardness in his jeans. 

Then, as though a last spark of caution flickers through his brain, he stills, pulling back just enough to look at you—really look, eyes darting between yours. There’s a flush high on his cheeks, lips reddened from your kisses. But behind that is a tenderness, a protective streak that roars beneath his surface need.

“Tell me you want this,” he says, voice so low it practically reverberates through your chest. He needs to hear you say it. Needs to hear you tell him it’s alright. “I want to make sure you’re positive, because I—I want this more than anything—to show you, to make you feel so fucking good, but…”

You let out a noise that’s both a laugh and a moan. 

“Steve,” you repeat, more breathless this time. “I want this. I want you. Please.”

He groans, eyes squeezing shut. Thank God. 

“Shit, you have no idea how long I’ve—” He takes a breath as he shudders against you, every nerve ending on fire. “Angel—fuck—wait, just a sec.”

You blink, momentarily dazed. “What—did I do something?”

He just about melts at the concerned look you’re giving him, hands immediately cupping your face as he presses his mouth against yours as he mutters reassurances. 

“No, sweetheart. You didn’t—you’re perfect.” He wills his brain to formulate a coherent sentence. Easier said than done when he has you sitting on his lap. “But, if I’m going to make love to you, I’m not going to do it on the living room couch.”

A glint sparks in his eyes, but there’s nothing playful about the way he suddenly gathers you up into his arms, hands cupping beneath your thighs, hoisting you effortlessly against his chest as he stands. Your squeal of surprise echoes in the now-quiet house as you cling to his shoulders, heart pounding.

You laugh out his name and his only response is to tighten his hold on you, a grin tugging at his kiss-swollen lips, before he turns and starts up the stairs, carrying you like you weigh nothing. 

Your arms wrap around his neck, your lips brushing the line of his jaw, and his low groan vibrates in your ear, spurring him to climb faster.

He kicks the bedroom door open with his foot, all too eager to finally have you in his arms, in his bed. He sets you down on the edge of the mattress, his hands lingering at your hips as though he can’t bear to lose contact. 

You’re about to tease him for being so careful, but the sight of him—flushed cheeks, hair a disheveled mess from your fingers, lips reddened—steals the quip from your tongue.

“You okay?” he murmurs, his voice low and husky. As urgent as he feels, there’s that undercurrent of protectiveness, that need to check you’re here with him for all the right reasons.

Your smile is a little breathless. “I’m more than okay.”

He exhales slowly, like your reassurance is the only permission he needed to keep going. Then he nudges your knees apart so he can step in closer, pressing your bodies flush. The warmth of him is addictive—solid arms, broad chest, that steady heartbeat thrumming beneath your palms.

A shiver runs down your spine when he bends to brush a slow kiss along the side of your throat, teeth just barely grazing your skin. Your head falls back, and he uses the moment to trail more kisses along your jaw, your collarbone, mapping the curve of your shoulder as if memorising every inch.

“Lie down for me,” he whispers, voice trembling with the effort it takes to keep it gentle.

You slide back onto the bed, propping yourself on your elbows, and he kneels near the edge, guiding your legs up so you’re fully on the bed. His hand glides beneath your clothes, pushing it slowly upward, knuckles skimming the bare skin of your waist. His gaze locks with yours as he slips it off over your head, making sure you’re still okay with each inch of exposed skin. You can’t help the small, playful grin that tugs at your lips. 

“Careful, Harrington,” you tease, breath hitching when he plants a soft kiss at the center of your sternum. “At this rate, it’ll be sunrise before you get these clothes off.”

He huffs a little laugh against your skin, the warm puff of air sending a tingle racing across your flesh. 

“You deserve careful,” he says, words muffled by the increasingly desperate kisses he’s leaving along the tops of your breasts, your clavicle. “But don’t think for a second I’m not dying to tear everything off you, angel.”

His fingers drift to the waistband of your jeans, undoing the button and zipper with a focus that makes your stomach flip. He eases them down your hips, helping you lift so he can slide them all the way off. Then, with a featherlight touch, he glides his hands up your thighs, sending sparks of electricity racing through you.

“Steve,” you breathe, voice catching when he leans down to kiss your newly bared skin. He starts at your calf, working his way leisurely up, each press of his lips driving you a little bit more insane. By the time he reaches your inner thigh, you’re trembling—desperate for him.

“Look at you,” he coos, voice shaking with something close to awe. His fingers slide along the band of your underwear, and he gently pulls them down, letting them join your jeans on the floor. With each inch, he leaves more of you uncovered, and the intensity in his gaze leaves you feeling bare in more ways than one.

You try to close your legs, feeling slightly exposed with the way he is gazing at you, but his hand is firm as it grips your thigh, holding you open. You hold your breath as his fingers skim over your folds, head falling back as his thumb circles your clit slowly. 

“Shit,” he breathes out, second hand joining to gather some of your wetness on his fingers. “You’re fuckin’ soaked, angel.”

“Steve,” you murmur, voice quivering with need. Your fingers thread into his hair, urging him closer, your body already winding tight from the warmth of his breath against you.

“God,” he mutters, words muffled by another kiss to your thigh. “I’ve wanted this—wanted to do this—for so damn long.”

He shifts, situating himself more comfortably. Then, with a half-lidded glance in your direction, he leans in and presses his mouth against your clit in a way that shatters every remaining thought in your head. 

A soft cry tumbles from your lips, and he groans at the sound, pulling you in deeper, his grip on your thighs tightening.

He moves carefully, learning your reactions, letting your gasps and moans guide him. Each flick of his tongue, each gentle suck, is a question: Is this good? More? Show me. And every time you arch your back or let out a ragged whisper of his name, he answers with another fervent, deliciously slow pass of his mouth.

"Fuck, angel, I could do this all night.” He dives back in. “Keep you here, keep you shaking over and over on my tongue."

He’s so tender in his insistence, balancing the sharp edge of hunger with a profound concern for your pleasure. One of his hands slides up to lace your fingers together, and he squeezes—almost like he’s grounding himself in the moment, sharing each pulse of sensation so you know he’s right there with you. The other hand strokes up your thigh and curls around your hip, keeping you anchored against him.

“Oh, God,” you gasp, voice pitching higher when he drags his tongue across your pussy with a pointed languidness. Your thighs tighten around his shoulders, and he shudders, his fingers reflexively pressing into your skin.

He pauses just long enough to rest his forehead against your thigh, breathing hard. His voice comes out in a low rasp, intense in its sincerity. 

“You taste so fucking good,” he mumbles dazed as he returns to his ministrations. Lapping against you like he couldn’t possibly get enough. 

A wave of warmth crashes over you at his words—any lingering insecurities vanish beneath the heat of his devotion. You tug lightly at his hair, guiding him back, and he happily obliges. His tongue moves in slow, deliberate strokes at first, building you up in a dizzying ascent, then quickens when your moans become urgent.

Your heels dig into his back, and you choke out something unintelligible—his name, a plea, a broken sob of bliss. He groans in response, the sound reverberating through your entire body, heightening the sensation until you think you might shatter from it. 

There’s something almost reverent in how thorough he is, like he wants to memorise every reaction, every hitch of your breath.

“You’re making the sweetest fucking noises, baby.” He murmurs. “Driving me insane.”

Tension coils in your stomach, winding tighter with each measured flick of his tongue. Your grip on his hand is borderline crushing, but he just grins against you, absolutely thrilled by the desperation in your touch. 

That’s all the encouragement he needs to push you closer and closer to the edge. His name tumbles from your lips again, a breathless entreaty, and he groans, the vibration sending sparks skittering across your skin.

He can tell you’re close—he can feel it in the way your hips jerk, the way your pussy clenches, the way your voice climbs. And he wants it for you, wants to be the reason you come apart so completely that you’ll never doubt his devotion again. 

“Come on, sweetheart, I’ve got you,” before diving back in with a perfect, rhythmic swirl that makes your entire body tense.

The tension snaps. A rush of pleasure bursts inside you, and you let out a cry that would embarrass you if you could think about anything but the ecstasy roaring through your veins. 

Your hands grip his shoulders, nails biting into his skin, and he moans like the taste of your release is exactly what he’s been dying for. He works you through every pulse, every aftershock, with gentle flicks of his tongue until you’re quivering in oversensitivity, pushing lightly at his head to let him know you can’t take another second.

When he finally straightens up to see you—lying back against his pillows, clad in just your bra—you spot a flicker of pure hunger crossing his face. He swallows hard and you see your release glistening against his chin as he does. He’s trying to keep himself tethered to sanity, but it’s a losing battle.

“Not fair that I’m the only one so… exposed,” you breathe out, hooking a finger into the hem of his jumper.

 “Impatient, huh?” He lets out a shaky chuckle as he licks his lips.

You roll your eyes in faux annoyance, tugging firmly at the fabric. He gets the hint. In one smooth motion, he yanks his shirt over his head and tosses it somewhere behind him. You catch a glimpse of toned arms and the lean planes of his chest, and it steals your breath all over again.

But he’s not done—he pops open the button of his jeans, sliding them down until they pool at his ankles, stepping out with a sense of urgency that has you biting your lip. For a moment, he just stands there, letting you take in the sight of him, hair messy, eyes blown wide with desire, wearing only his boxers.

“Better?” he asks, eyebrows lifting.

You drag your gaze up and down, unrepentant in your ogling. “Much.”

Steve’s eyes glitter with raw need as he hovers over you, his body pressed so tight you can hardly breathe. Every breath you take is steeped in the mix of his cologne and the sweet, desperate scent of your own arousal. 

“God, you’re so fuckin’ gorgeous,” he mutters under his breath, his gaze roaming over your curves with a barely restrained hunger. One of his hands grips your thigh, dragging it higher around his waist. “Don’t know how the hell I got so lucky.”

You can’t manage a reply—your breath stutters as he runs his other hand up your side, fingers skimming your ribs, his thumb grazing the underside of your breast in a fleeting touch. The contrast between how tender he’s being and the way his voice drips with a filthy promise makes you whimper, arching into his touch.

He leans in, teeth nipping at your lower lip before he kisses you slow and deep. It's messy and you can taste yourself on his tongue. 

“Fuck,” he whines, “I need you, sweetheart. Need you right now—can I?” His voice cracks with urgency, and you feel every syllable reverberate through your body.

“Yes,” you whisper, voice trembling with anticipation. “Please, Steve. I—”

He cuts you off with another kiss, sliding his hand between your thighs, which have only got stickier. He groans at the way you shiver, so worked up that you feel like you might combust if he doesn’t fuck you this instant.

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters. “So wet for me.” Then, in a lower tone. “I’m gonna make you feel so good, baby—gonna make you forget anything else exists except how good my cock feels inside you.”

His words took you by surprise. Your usual sweet boyfriend was downright obscene with his words.

You knew he had a sharp tongue, but you had no idea how damn filthy he could make it. 

He reaches into the bedside table and tears the condom wrapper off with his teeth, making quick work of sliding it over his length.

The moment he lines his cock up at your entrance, you can feel the tension in his body—like he’s holding back a tidal wave of desire, absolutely determined not to hurt you, to make sure you’re comfortable.

“You good?” he rasps, voice tight.

“Yes,” you pant. “Steve… please.”

He exhales a ragged breath and pushes into you, inch by inch, until the stretch of him draws a moan so raw from your lips that he answers with a guttural “Fuck.” 

Your head falls back, the sensation an exquisite combination of pleasure and the ache of being so completely stuffed. He stays there a moment, trembling arms caging you in, nose brushing yours as you grip him like a vice.

“Angel,” he chokes out, voice thick, “You—you feel so fucking perfect. Look at me.”

You force your eyes open, meeting his gaze, and the ferocity of his desire sends another wave of arousal flooding through your veins, clenching around his length. 

“You feel that, sweetheart? Feel how deep I am?”

All you can do is nod dumbly as his hand presses on your lower stomach. He knows you can feel him there.

He starts a slow rhythm, hips rolling, each thrust calculated to bring you higher. And for all his filthy talk, there’s a sweetness in the way he cups your cheek, kisses your jaw, your collarbone, like he can’t decide which part of you he loves most.

“God, yes,” he groans, each thrust picking up in intensity. “You like that? Tell me you like it.”

“I love it,” you gasp, fingers clawing at his back. “Steve, you feel—God, you feel amazing.”

He lets out a breathless laugh that ends in another throaty moan as he angles his hips just so, making you keen against his lips. His pace quickens, every stroke hitting deeper, sending sparks of pleasure through every nerve.

“Fuck—baby, you’re so tight,” he hisses, his mouth at your ear. “So damn tight for me. Never want this to end—wanna keep you like this, under me, always on my cock—cumming so hard you forget your own name.”

Jesus, if you knew this was how he was going to talk, you would have given him the green light weeks ago.

He punctuates the filthy promise with a particularly deep thrust, and your toes curl, a cry spilling from your throat as you cling to him. You’re quickly losing yourself in the haze of his words, his body, his everything.

You utter his name in a choked sob, and it’s like a starter’s pistol. He shifts his angle just enough that the strokes perfectly grind against that sensitive spot inside your walls. The pleasure mounts in a dizzying spiral, your body tensing as you hover on the brink of release.

“That’s it,” he coaxes, voice gone ragged, snapping his hips more insistently. “God, cum for me, sweetheart. I need to feel it—want to feel it so bad.”

And with one more roll of his hips, you do—crying out, body arching as the orgasm shatters through you. Every nerve in your body lights up as you clamp down, and his guttural moan tells you he’s right there with you, grinding through your climax until he’s spilling himself into the rubber, breathing your name over and over like a prayer.

For a moment, you’re both lost in the aftershocks, hearts pounding, bodies tangled in the sheets. Then he sags against you, pressing lazy, tender kisses to your shoulder and murmuring small, breathless praises that make your cheeks burn with warmth.

The afterglow is still pulsing between you—soft, warm, and intimate. He leans down to press feathery kisses to your shoulder, your chest, up the side of your neck, murmuring words of reassurance and awe.

“You did so good,” he breathes, voice low and reverent. “So perfect.”

Heat flutters in your chest at the praise, and you can’t help but giggle, reaching up to tangle your fingers in his hair and guide his face to yours. Your lips meet in a searing kiss, slow and sweet. When you finally pull back, you find him watching you with those big, earnest eyes.

“Was I… okay?” he asks, cheeks turning pink in a bashful sort of way. “Like, everything good for you?”

“More than okay.” You let out a satisfied sigh, your body still humming with pleasure. “That was perfect.”

“Yeah?” he echoes, a shy grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Yeah.” You brush a thumb across his lower lip, feeling a spark of amusement as you remember the filth he whispered moments ago. “When were you gonna tell me you had such a dirty mouth?”

Instantly, his face flames. He cannot be blamed for what he said in the heat of the moment. It was hard to have a filter when he had you mewling underneath him.

“Hey, well, uh… I don’t… I mean, I—”

“Shh.” You chuckle, placing a finger over his lips “I loved it.”

“Oh yeah?” He exhales, relief and pride mingling. “Well, I’ll keep that in mind—my girl likes it a little dirty.” 

“C’mon, lover boy.” A fresh wave of laughter bubbles out of you. You let him help you up, your legs still a bit shaky. He steadies you with a strong arm around your waist and guides you to the bathroom so you can rinse off the sheen of sweat and bliss.

The shower is warm and comforting, the water sluicing away every last trace of tension as you help each other soap up and rinse off. When you emerge, toweling your hair and feeling the pleasant ache of satisfaction in your muscles, you notice Steve holding out one of his old T-shirts for you to slip on. You beam, tugging it over your head before crawling into bed next to him, the soft cotton drowning you in his familiar scent.

He pulls you close, cradling you against his chest. The hush of the room, the warmth of the covers, and the steady sound of his heartbeat lull you into a sweet, sleepy contentment.

“Hey,” he murmurs, turning so his nose brushes yours.

“Mmm?” you reply, lashes fluttering.

“I love you, sweetheart.”

Your heart clenches at the simple sincerity in his tone. “I love you too, Steve.”

And with that, his arms tighten around you, and you drift into a peaceful sleep, knowing that in the morning, you’ll both wake up in the same bed, same sappy looks on your faces, same lovesick smiles as you bask in the golden morning light. Steve will probably be watching you already, grinning like a fool, fingers tracing lazy patterns over your back, because he’s just that smitten.

[borkunlimited]

Take Your Time, Miss Deer (Sylus x Reader) - Ch. 4

In a tailor shop tucked in the calmer side of the N109 zone is a little room where all clothes of many different designs come together under the delicate hands of an unassuming deer living in the den of all sorts of beasts and sitting on them is the dragon who wears your clothes.

Your many interactions with Skye, Mr. Sylus’ messenger or-

-Sylus is waiting for you to finally figure out he is playing his own messenger.

A Deer Hybrid! Reader x Dragon Hybrid! Sylus Fic

Tags: Sylus x Reader, Hybrid AU, Suggestive Themes, Fluff, Predator/Prey, Self-Harm

Chapter Summary: Horns. Antlers. A long tail with smooth scales. A short tail. If those are gone, then both of you are almost the same, right?

Author's Note: Some lines have references to existing media. I have been playing Disco Elysium every now and then with a dash of Reverse 1999. Still going with the main themes tackled by Beastars and BNA though but you know, I really do love certain lines from these games that I just want to put it in here as well.

Enjoy!

AO3

Ch. 1 / Ch. 2 / Ch. 3 / Ch. 4

4: My Dearest, Generous

A little downpour has visited the N109 zone today.

It was close to the afternoon when you heard the soft pitter patter against the windows of your studio that is steadily increasing intensity within each passing minute and you immediately rushed to close them one by one, not wanting water to get inside and ruin the patterns and the fabrics you have prepared to sew for tomorrow.

You were about to close the last window when a small, dark figure zoomed past you, spreading droplets on the wooden floor.

It looks like your odd little crow friend has decided to take shelter here at your studio.

Daisy settled on one of the armchairs, shaking the excess rainwater that clung on its feathers, letting out an indignant caw before preening itself.

“I know. It is quite sudden,” you chuckled softly, locking the last window with your ears flicking away little beads of rainwater that clung on your fur.

Daisy seemed to also agree and it let you remove the damp good luck ribbon you have made for it. It is a little worse for wear now so maybe it is time to make a new one. 

Perhaps something more stylish? The image of your crow friend wearing a scarf made you smile. Very fitting because it is becoming colder but for now, another good luck ribbon with the color it prefers should do.

“It’s alright. I won’t throw it away,” you assured it when it hopped along with you, worried where you would put its cherished item.

Will you repair it? Mephisto thinks you can. 

If its master can repair its circuits easily then it thinks you can do the same. You seemed very capable of fixing everything after seeing you stitch together large tears on the twins’ jacket before so it also means piecing back its worn ribbon should be easy to you.

For Mephisto, it doesn’t matter if its good luck charm is slightly damaged (What do you mean it's hanging by a thread?) All the affections you have poured into that ribbon will always be there no matter how it looks and it feels rather naked now that you have removed it.

Your finger grazed against the old wood of the cabinet while you hum absentmindedly, counting the number of the rows of shelves that store everything you need to sew any of your clients’ requests.

‘Oh, dear stranger journeying to a far off land, how many days must pass till I see you again?’

Third column from the left of the cabinet. Above where you keep the little boxes of buttons of various colors, all neatly organized, and then you finally pull out the drawer to retrieve a box inside of it.

Your crow flapped up to your sewing table, watching you set the item and it hopped in excitement.

Mephisto knows this particular box. This is a box where you store all of its trinkets it gave to you (Fine, and its master’s too.)

It was one of the few belongings you brought along before you left the place you once called home with your father. 

A little gift to you when you were young by an old hybrid couple after you knitted them scarves. You never quite remember their faces anymore but even then, the memory of their gratitude lingered, the playful pinch on your cheeks when you handed them their scarves wrapped in brown paper and twine.

“Do you want me to play it?”, you asked Daisy, opening the box to reveal the various precious ores and gemstones resting together with the dried flowers your crow has brought for you.

All of it, hidden in one place, little memories preserved and forever cherished.

Mephisto let out a beep, a yes, its optics adjusting to take a recording once again of this little moment that it may or may not hold over its master’s head (Again) upon its return to the base when the rain subsides.

You nodded in approval, tying around Daisy’s old ribbon around one of the horns of the little black dragon figurine sitting inside the box then turned the key.

A soft melody began playing and both you and Daisy watched the black dragon spin among the field of red blossoms painted in the background as if it was chasing the white ribbon on its horn, a lonesome game but still fun while the two of you looked back at your reflections on the small mirror.

Mephisto pushed the top of its head under your chin, nuzzling you and you laughed softly, petting its back while you listened to the gentle lullaby.

“Quite a downpour, don’t you think?”

Your heart skipped a bit, the lullaby cut short as you immediately closed the box, pushing it near the pile of fabrics beside you. 

These impromptu guests of yours always catch you off guard. Perhaps it comes with their innate trait of being able to make their presence hidden until they choose to reveal themselves.

Or so you thought.

The door shut with a soft click, your surprise visitor making his way towards you and your eyes widened. His footsteps were quiet, almost like Skye’s and twins’ but how is it possible? How is it possible when you and the person standing across your table are certainly alike, are of-

-the same species.

You nodded slowly, and Daisy hopped between you and your visitor, silently assessing this newcomer, one of the many who had made themselves comfortable in your studio.

“Louis,” the deer hybrid said, raising his hand for you to shake which you returned, telling him your name in return but not like you need to tell him, he already knows about you anyways. Everyone who has transactions with Sylus is fully aware of who you are.

The seamstress who dresses all the wolves of this den in sheep’s clothing.

The deer fiercely guarded by the dragon kept in this hidden corner of the N109 zone.

The object of Sylus’ affections.

Or, from people who harbors deep hatred to Sylus-

Sylus’ well-seasoned meal.

“What brings you here, Mister Louis?”, you asked politely, your hands on your lap. You haven’t seen this deer before. 

Is he a new resident here in the N109 zone? 

He is well-dressed, clearly wealthy, and the cut of his clothes fit him well. 

His eyes lingered on Mephisto and he knew that this was the  little heathen made by Sylus to carry out his commands. One of his three errand runners  as people said who goes about doing his dirty work on his behalf. 

That dragon really does keep a close eye over you, doesn’t he?

It was almost concerning. A predator hybrid and prey hybrid spending too much time with each other spells trouble. Is Sylus fattening you up? A meal reserved for a special occasion?

“I heard you are Sylus’ personal tailor,” he said, walking around your studio, studying the clothes on display.

“Yes, but more like his lead tailor,” you corrected him, your eyes watching him closely. It has been so long since you have met your own kind. Is it comforting? Maybe, “He still has other tailors as well.”

“Did he come here often?”

“Oh, never.”

“Never?”

“Yes, he has yet to pay us a visit.”

His eyes narrow slightly at you. The word in the streets is that you and Sylus are seen together more often and people have claimed that he is very forward on his affections to you, how his tail wrapped around your waist, and even how he gazed at you as if when you tell him to jump, he will ask how high you want.

“He only sends his people here,” you continued but you caught the subtle hint of confusion in his gaze and then you added, “Good people.”

Good people?

A brief look of surprise crossed your visitor’s face. Did he hear that right?

You think those wolf cubs, that crow between you, and Sylus of all people are good ? 

Maybe it is true that every hybrids like you and him indeed lost their instincts when they stepped here in the N109 zone which is why your lot has to look after each other just in case, just in case that the beasts who reside here decide to remove their masks and hurt you just like how the humans did outside. 

Because you prey hybrids are just so damn pitiful.

“It didn’t cross your mind that they would hurt you?”

“Everyone who entered this room didn’t.”

“There will always be the first.”

“I trust them more over the humans,” you replied. His concern is valid, of course, and Mister Louis here isn’t the first prey hybrid who expressed his worry over you being friendly with any of your visitors.

Your father is a different case, though, who is specifically worried about Skye.

Skye, of all people.

Skye who never crossed the line when he was here. Skye who doesn’t have to stay but chose to. Skye who helps you if he doesn’t have to.

But you know their concern stems from reality. 

Humans. 

Predator hybrids. 

Prey hybrids. 

That’s how the hierarchy goes. That’s how it has always been. Your kind stood in a delicate balance, docile enough in the eyes of the humans that you are taken advantage of often and weaker than the weakest predator hybrid as long as they have fangs to nip and claws to scratch.

“We’re deers by the end of the day.”

“I know but even then, it doesn’t make much difference.”

If anything, predator or prey, you are all just animals in the eyes of humans.

Tainted blood.

“I appreciate your concern, Mister Louis,” you added politely, giving him a small smile. “But it wouldn’t be fair for us to judge them easily when they haven’t harmed any of us here so far.”

Louis studied you closely. You genuinely do believe that all of you hybrids are equal.

How naive. How idealistic.

It will take centuries or more for prey and predator hybrids to get along and another more for hybrids and humans.

But then again, your father did mention to him you would rather run towards the nearest predator hybrid when in danger than seek help from a human.

“You’re an odd deer, Miss,” he chuckled softly.

He pushed a small package towards you wrapped in old newspaper.

“But just so you know, I heard dragons play with their prey before they eat them alive.”

────────────────────

Sylus adores the subtle signs of affection every time he is visiting you.

The faint blush on your cheeks when he stepped in to observe what you were doing. How you automatically shift closer when his tail is wrapped around your waist or when you listen to his words, your ears flicking while you pay attention.

His species in particular are naturally warm yet he only grew to understand the value of another person’s warmth every time he is with you and if he only can pull you closer, it is an irrevocable fact that you will be the warmest treasure he ever had held in his hands.

Not because of the blood pumping on your veins.

But because of the peaceful grace you have with you.

The deer doesn’t need to step out of her meadow if anything. He had already stepped foot on your paradise under the sunlight that passed the trees and if he can, he doesn’t want to leave the only place that treated him with sincere kindness.

Today, Sylus has been eagerly looking forward to his visit despite the sudden downpour. 

As if a little rain would stop him from seeing his favorite deer and as usual, he is not one to be in your shop without gifts for you.

He gave your father an easy smile and the older deer simply nodded in return, a polite greeting, when the dragon hybrid passed by him.

Thirty steps from the entrance of your shop to the hallway and another set of ten from the hallway to your studio. Oh, Sylus can’t wait to see his hardworking darling and he was halfway to your studio when he stopped, his ears picking up your sweet voice from behind the closed door and well, well, what’s this?

His eyes narrowed, picking up the scent of another guest. Another deer hybrid just like you and-

-A male one.

Your voices were muffled by the walls of your studio but he would always recognize the always gentle and polite tone you used when talking to anyone.

Then, the door opened and Sylus immediately piece together the identity of the newcomer you were just talking to earlier.

He isn’t one to forget the name to the face, afterall.

A young upstart in the N109 zone trying to make a name and recently, the little birds had told him that this one is creating a small association for all prey hybrids living here, not that Sylus minds.

He caught the familiar scent of fear from the male deer hybrid but this one was able to put all of his apprehension under a nonchalant expression laced with subtle defiance.

This gaze is all too familiar to him at this point.

This visitor of yours does not like him.

“I was told you had never set foot in this shop,” the deer hybrid started, not looking away from Sylus.

Brave, perhaps there is a reason why this one managed to reel the leashes of all the predators following his orders but he has a thought that this particular hybrid will be a little nuisance.

“And what exactly have you been told?”, Sylus asked casually, studying the newcomer. A good looking one but he is aware your father wouldn’t set you up with anyone, not when the older deer had gotten the message loud and clear that he is pursuing you.

“The miss said you only send good people in this shop,” the deer hybrid answered, as if piecing together your words and Sylus’ presence, “That Sylus himself never set foot here. Not even once.”

“Is this miss lying, Sylus?” the deer hybrid continued, letting go of the door handle, “Or are you deceiving the poor girl?”

“You’re quite a detective, aren’t you?”

“I took it as my responsibility to look after people here who get too cozy with predators like you.”

“Are you implying I am going to snap and attack her one day?”

“There are too many cases of your kind that did,” the deer hybrid countered. 

These answers, these excuses. 

The same lines recited by predators who thought they could reel in their natural instincts and not harm the prey hybrids they claimed they love and adore.

“Oh really? I suppose you have a solution for that? Locking my sweetheart away just to make sure she is safe from the big bad dragon,” Sylus replied, taking a few steps forward but the deer hybrid did not seem to falter.

Sweetheart.

So the words are true. Sylus is indeed courting you in his own twisted way.

“No, my solution is not drastic,” the male retorted, walking towards him until they were shoulder to shoulder. “You still seemed a reasonable man so just a word of advice-”

“-Pursue your own kind and leave her alone.”

The newcomer walked away but Sylus can’t shake the audacity of this upstart. 

Why? 

Why do people think that he can’t love you or be loved by you just because of your differences?

If you removed your antlers and he cut his horns, both of you would have been humans and no one would bat an eye.

Sylus took a deep breath, the faint scent of rain still clung to his hair and clothes, calming him down slightly and even when the smell of your previous visitor hung about, he could still shift through all the mixed scents and pick up the aroma of cotton and wildflowers.

The scent of you.

It was more than enough to soothe him and then, he opened the door to your studio, ready to see you.

The tension that lingered on his interaction with your previous visitor breaks, in this room, in the garden of fabrics and threads where there is only the two of you, the world is a distant away. 

The ocean of chaos in his heart slowly subsides.

In this little piece of paradise, a small voice emerges. Yours .

The dearest thing he wants to hear for his remaining days.

“Skye, quite a rain we are having, don’t you think?”

If all the precious metals and minerals he had ever owned merged together, its value will not be able to measure up on the fondest smile you wear when you see him. 

Warm like the first rays of the sun after a long winter.

“Well, it certainly did not stop me, didn’t it?” he remarked, all the words the deer hybrid said to him fading in the background and your voice is the only sound he can hear.

He watched you move around your desk, coming close to him to examine him and he chuckled softly when you had to stand by your tiptoes to do so.

“Are you wet? Do you want me to get a towel for you?”, you fretted about.

“You’re so considerate,” he replied, his hands reaching out and settling on your waist to steady you, “But I’m fine, little doe.”

“Oh, you shouldn’t have really come over. You might get sick,” you pointed out, looking up to him.

You’d be surprised how far his constitution goes as a dragon but then again, he does love being doted by you.

“I’ll be fine, sweetie.”

“You could always turn down Mr. Sylus. His gifts can always wait.”

“But bringing his gifts to you is the only task I do enjoy.”

“Are you sure you don’t need anything else, Skye?”, you asked while he brushes the threads hanging on your antlers. 

There are so many things he wants to ask from you. Those kisses you give freely to the twins and Mephisto, to hold you close and take in your comforting scent, and for you to finally call him by his real name but his requests, his pleas overflow, the words lost in his tongue and only then what matters is you, you, you.

Just you.

“Just keep doing your own thing, hm?”, Sylus replied, tapping your nose playfully.

“How about you help me and Daisy then?”, you asked, and you were so quick on pulling a chair for him, setting it beside where you usually sit on your sewing table, “If you don’t mind being my second assistant for today?”

His eyes fleeted on Mephisto which is busy shifting through the pile of fabrics you have laid out on the table. His mechanical crow really does enjoy spending time with you from the looks of it and he caught the absence of that familiar white ribbon you tried around its neck. 

Had his companion managed to lose its valuable treasure already? That seemed unlikely. He had seen Mephisto snap at another crow once who tried to pull it off its neck.

“Just tell me what to do, darling deer.”

“Daisy and I are making another good luck ribbon,” you said, sitting on your chair and you patted on the chair beside you, an indication for him to do the same which he gladly did. 

Oh, is that how that little item is called? No wonder Mephisto is very attached to it.

“A good luck ribbon?”

“Yes, to keep Daisy safe.”

“Well, isn’t Daisy a lucky bird to have you, miss seamstress.”

“I’ll make one for you as well, Skye”, you smiled, and the idea of having Mr. Sylus’ bodyguard wearing a ribbon in one of his horns sounds quite appealing to you. He would very much resemble the dragon figurine inside the music box you have beside you and he will be more approachable, you are sure.

“Are you saying I need good luck, sweetheart?”, he replied but he was already shifting through the fabrics laid out in front of him together with Mephisto and he already had a color in mind.

Afterall, he had always loved the color of your eyes. Warm, welcoming, and eager. He certainly wouldn’t mind a ribbon of that hue tied around one of his horns.

Your ears drooped slightly on his response, “You don’t want one?”

Oh, he doesn’t need luck. 

Not when he already has you near him but how could he resist that cute pout on your face? This little tactic of yours, even if you are not aware of it, always works so well that he always finds himself abiding to whatever you would say.

“Don’t give me that look, Miss Deer,” he gently chided you and tapped your nose, “Of course I want one.”

Your tail wagged just slightly upon hearing his reply. It always gives you a sense of purpose when people say they like to receive gifts from you and since you are now making him one, maybe you should sew one for Mr. Sylus as well, a little token of gratitude for all the gifts.

“Do you think Mr. Sylus would want one as well?”

“I am sure he will appreciate it.”

“What color do you think he would want?”

“Red,” Sylus replied, an idea already forming in his head after you are done with this project while he fiddled at the edge of the fabric that shares the color of your eyes, “Definitely red, sweetie.”

Daisy hopped near you, dragging its chosen fabric by its beak and Sylus shifted closer to you, your shoulders touching and ready to take any instructions you would give him.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of the sewing part.”

“Just say the word, miss seamstress.”

Certainly not a bad way to spend a rainy afternoon with you.

────────────────────

Sylus had always detested the horns sitting on top of his head.

Monster.

Among the thousand curses and more he has been called, the word had always carried a certain weight every time humans and hybrids alike had laid eyes upon him. 

His kind is a rarity these days, a dying breed after being hunted and culled like livestocks when the humans had deemed they are a threat.

How many times had he sawed them off? He only lost that habit when he realized that they always grow back, more pointed than ever and-

-If he can’t convince his hunters he meant no harm, then it is time to prove their fears right.

The blood drips from the blade, into his face, and then into the white tiles of the bathroom. In this world overflowing with laughter mocking him from being the last of his kind, he had decided to level the playing field and carve a utopia for himself that slowly grew, a twisted safe haven initially meant for fiends such as him.

Then, on this land of despair, a small patch of paradise had taken root. Clearly impossible but certainly, without a doubt, a miracle.

Sylus then realized having horns isn’t too bad. A grotesque reflection of your elegant antlers, a bad imitation, but one of the similarities you both share.

“I am glad you love it, Daisy,” you clapped your hands, watching your odd little bird hopped about and turn for you and Skye, showing off the little ribbon you have sewn together.

His mechanical crow is more than pleased and Sylus is already sure it is about to show it off to the twins for receiving a new gift from you. 

It has become a little competition between those three and they don’t need to know that their boss is more than aware their contest involves who gets the most kisses and pats from you.

And here he is, sitting at the bottom of the list with the lowest score even if he isn’t technically part of that game.

“Do you want me to put on yours as well, Skye?”, you asked him.

“Just try not to tie it too tight, darling deer,” he said and he bent his head slightly, enough for you to reach his horn.

There was a shiver that ran on his spine when your fingers grazed his horn while you carefully fastened the ribbon around it and he let out a small whimper. 

It was a gesture of trust but you wouldn’t know that, not when it was common for you deer hybrids to touch each other’s antlers.

But it was more than a gesture of trust.

Afterall, Sylus is more than aware that his kind only allows closed family to touch their horns and-

-Their mate.

He almost sounded pathetic in his own ears and for once, he is afraid to see the look of pity on your eyes. Here is your liar, Miss Deer, he wants to tell you but he wouldn’t deny there is a hint of fear that eventually you will realize ‘Skye’ and ‘Mr. Sylus’ are one and the same. 

Would your fond gaze turn to fear by then?

“Oh, did I put it on too tight?”, you asked when your ears picked up the sound he made.

It was not pity that he saw but a flicker of concern if you have hurt him and oh, his sweetheart, always so caring. What did he do to deserve your kindness?

Too tight? Hardly. Your touch was so gentle, so unfamiliar yet he yearned for more.

“No sweetheart, you haven’t,” he replied and then you let out a small laugh when he pinched your cheek.

“I am glad,” you nodded and you studied the bow closely placed at the base of his horn. You should put more ribbons on him because it certainly made him look less threatening. 

Maybe then, your clients wouldn’t have a heart attack if you and him had to go again to do a delivery run soon. 

“It really looks good on you, Skye. People would believe you are a nice and friendly dragon now.”

“Perhaps I should wear ribbons more often then,” he joked but your ears seemed to perk up at his comment, and he caught the anticipation in your eyes at the prospect of making him more bows.

You nodded, and he froze slightly when you rub your antlers against his horn where the ribbon is tied in approval, “That sounds great. I can’t wait to see you in them.”

How many years has it that Sylus had long for such affection? To be treated gently and not as a lesser animal? Now, all of those wishes, his yearning for love that he thought he will never have, were slowly fulfilled unknowingly by you and he closed his eyes, rubbing his horns back to you.

“And I can’t wait to try out more ribbons for you, sweetie.”

“I hope Mr. Sylus will like what I made as much as you do, Skye.”

He may have stayed longer than usual today, especially when you ask him to only leave when the rain stopped. The sound of the downpour, the soft conversation between the two of you, and the sewing machine humming filled the room and even when evening fell, he watched you still push through, making your patterns, until you accidentally dozed off mid-conversation.

Little deer always forgets she is in the company of a beast.

He gently tucked your hair behind your ear, his hand lightly grazing the fur from the base until the tip, fleeting, not enough for you to even stir and the red gemstone that adorn your hairpin twinkled for a moment, like a wink.

Sylus left Mephisto with you, who almost looked like a plushie with you curled up against his companion and he set the gift he had brought for you near your hand holding the pencil.

Perhaps this is the start of another small game. A back and forth. A gift from him in exchange for a little trinket from you this time but Sylus will have to see.

He tied the red ribbon you said to give to ‘Mr. Sylus’ upon his return around the leather strap of his watch before he left your studio.

A small smile formed in Sylus’ lips when he took one glimpse of you before leaving.

If you opened your eyes, you will see that your Mr. Sylus is already more than pleased.

────────────────────

It was such a relief to see the boss returned to the base all too pleased with himself.

Luke and Kieran never found out what actually ticked him off last time he had visited you and their little investigation never arrived on a conclusion because you just looked at them confused when they tried to ask you if you and the boss had a little misunderstanding.

“Do you think he got upset because I asked for a piece of his lemon tart?”

They decided not to press on further, not wanting to upset you (Also because you offered to share the box of macarons they stole given to them begrudgingly by that cute, feisty sheep hybrid.)

They welcomed him in the base as routine but mostly because they are excited to see their father boss once again and he is usually more forgiving with their little antics every time he sees you, their tails wagging in excitement.

(Not that they blew up something again. They have been good while he is away for once. This whole sewing hobby is really taking up their free time.)

Yet, when Sylus went past the double doors of the base, they caught a scent quite strong that clung on him.

The scent of cotton and wildflowers.

Luke and Kieran looked at each other, a flicker of understanding. Is that why the boss is happier today?

“Boss, why do you smell like Miss Deer-”, Luke was about to ask but let out a yelp when Kieran stepped on his toes yet even then, the question had already made its way into his ears.

“What are you two on about?”, he asked, a small smirk tugging on his lips. He knows these two wolf cubs had a superior sense of smell, an already inherent trait for wolf hybrids amplified by whatever the humans did to them before arriving here in the N109 zone.

That little gesture of yours where you rubbed your antlers against his horns is supposed to be an affectionate one, fairly common among deer hybrids who are known for being very friendly to those they like.

He is still wearing the little ribbons you made for him which he had not removed until now but he is more than aware you have unknowingly left your scent on him.

Not that he minds, anyways, especially when he had also left his on yours as well.

He had to give these two points for asking him bluntly unlike your father who had given him an odd look when he exited your shop but he is sure you will be able to clear everything up. 

You are not one for lying after all.

But these wolf cubs have no sense of subtlety. So nosy.

“Did you and Miss Deer had-”, Luke let out another yelp when Kieran stepped on his toes again, “Can you stop that, Kieran?”

“I am not giving you allowance for you both to sniff on my clothes,” Sylus said dryly.

The two looked at each other, their tails wagging harder. They wouldn’t dare do that knowing full enough the boss retaliates during their sparring sessions and it wasn’t their fault when their noses can smell up to miles.

“Come on, boss,” Kieran said, the two walking with him deeper into the base, “We aren’t animals.”

“Actually, it is pretty much stronger around your horns,” Luke piped and his eyes widened slightly, noticing the ribbon fastened on the base of his horn and another one in his watch.

The twins looked at each other, their eyes studying the neck scarves you have gifted them.

The boss had finally received a gift from you just like they did.

“You both are acting like animals.”

But the little scratch he gave them on the back of their pointed ears betrayed his words.

.

.

.

Little gremlins.

────────────────────

Author's Note: Yes, I borrowed Louis from Beastars. He is absolutely necessary in the world building of this story even if he will appear here just ONCE. What did Louis left at Miss Deer's table? What is Sylus' gift? These will all be revealed in due time.

Will there be a side story with the twins? Maybe, maybe. We will see how the stars will align in the coming months.

Anyways, this is so fun to write. I try to write in between my free time and sometimes I just woke up at 2am because the ideas JUST HAD TO COME AT THAT TIME.

[cherry-coffees]

Would you write caitlyn with short chubby reader? Just fluff maybe reader is a lil insecure about her body type compared to the other women cait had been seen with?

Yes, ofc I will lovely! Hope you like <3

cw: mentions of body dysmorphia, insecurity, comparison to others

You love Caitlyn.

I mean, obviously. She's been your girlfriend for a little over a year now. You love going out with her in Piltover, always proud to be seen next to the Caitlyn Kiramman. And you love the nights when you just stay back at the Kiramman manor, especially when Caitlyn tugs you in to rest against her chest, her chin settling on the top of your head. She loves it too, you know, when your nights are filled with sleepy cuddles and soft kisses. You always seem to be in tune with each other, fitting together like yin and yang.

You know Caitlyn loves you: she shows it in her every word and action and gentle forehead kiss she gives you at the end of a long day. But sometimes, you can't help the slight tinge of insecurity that overwhelms your thoughts.

You've seen the other women Caitlyn's been with: Vi, Maddie, even the women that approach her at bars with heated eyes and flattering words. They're gorgeous. You are, too, at least from what Caitlyn tells you every day. But you've seen certain patterns: clear skin, muscular, slim, taller than you...

You just can't help but wonder what makes you different. Why she chose you over all the girls in Piltover that look like tall, skinny models. Caitlyn can have any girl she wants: half of Piltover is in love with her beauty and strength.

So when Caitlyn suggests a beach trip that a few of her friends are pushing for, you're less than thrilled.

"Hey darling?" Caitlyn calls from her office. She's been in there for a few hours, sorting through her usual paperwork she needs to fill out to keep Piltover running.

You glance up from your spot on the couch in the next room. "Yeah? What's up?"

You hear the shuffle of papers and the sound of her desk chair before your girlfriend appears in the doorway, flashing you a smile that always seems to make you weak. "Mel asked me about going to the sea for a few days," Caitlyn eyes you with curiosity. "She extended the invitation to you as well. We can walk on the beach, go swimming, have a bonfire...what do you think?"

You blink, staring at her silently for a second. "Oh, uh— the beach?"

"Mhm."

Your gaze drops to your lap. "Oh."

Caitlyn's eyebrows furrow, picking up on your less-than-excitement at the idea. She moves to you, sitting on the couch beside you. "Darling? Are you alright?"

"Yeah," you bite the inside of your cheek. "It's just..."

It's just that you'll be surrounded by Caitlyn and her friends. Mel is gorgeous: slim and fit, as are her other friends. You can't imagine being in a bikini by the water, beside all these other girls. And you know Caitlyn loves you, you know. You just can't help but wonder if she's ever had these same thoughts you're having right now. Would she notice that you didn't have the same body type as these model-like women?

"It's just what?" Caitlyn clasps one of your hands between her own, stroking the back of it with her thumb. "Talk to me, please."

"I-" you hesitate, your voice coming out small. "I don't know about being in a swimsuit in front of everyone."

"Oh," the word falls from her lips in a hushed breath, and that's all you have to say. Caitlyn knows. You've confided in her about your insecurity in your body type previous times, but that doesn't make it any easier.

"Look at me," Caitlyn coaxes your head to angle up, your eyes meeting her icy blue ones. "My darling. You're so beautiful, I'd love to see you in a bikini or swimsuit or anything else you decide to wear."

A flicker of doubt crosses your expression, and Caitlyn's heart aches. "Thank you, Cait. But I know I don't look like— like Vi or Maddie or-"

"Woah, woah," Caitlyn cuts you off, her features contorting into further concern. "Why are you bringing them up? You shouldn't be thinking about them. You're my girlfriend, not them."

"But they were," you burst out, unable to help your thoughts spilling out. "They were, and I can't help but notice that I don't look like them, that I'm not your usual type in girls. And it makes me worry if you're really happy with me."

You don't have time to say anything more before you feel a pair of soft lips on your own. Caitlyn kisses you gently, her hand cradling the back of your neck to pull you into her. Your eyes slide shut and you lean into the touch before she pulls back a few minutes later, her breath ghosting over your lips.

"Darling," Caitlyn's eyes are so soft that it makes your heart ache. "You are the only girl in my eyes. I adore you, truly. Your heart is the most important thing to me, what I love the most about you, but I also love your beauty. There is no one in the world more beautiful to me than you. I am the happiest with you, more than I could ever be with anyone else."

"You really don't mind that I don't look like all the girls that hit on you?"

"Love, I don't pay attention to any other girls besides you. I don't remember what they look like, and I don't care," she presses her lips to your arm, trailing gentle kisses down the length of it. "My sweet darling. I love you more than anyone in this entire world. I'd be in a room full of people, and you'd be the one who catches my attention every time. You're sweet and loving and beautiful and mine."

Caitlyn raises her head, placing another peck to your lips. "If you don't feel comfortable going, we won't. But I always want you beside me, my love, wearing whatever you want. And I hope you know how much I adore you."

"I do," you exhale, slight guilt creeping up on you for making your girlfriend worry. "Sorry, I know you love me, I-"

"Hey," Caitlyn murmurs. "It's okay. You're okay. I'll remind you how much I love you every day, if you need it. It's okay to feel however you do, just please promise me you'll always come to me when you need me."

"Okay," you mumble, and then Caitlyn's tugging you right back into her arms where you belong. And you feel safe and loved and so undeniably hers that you forget all about the what-ifs. You're here with Caitlyn. And honestly, that's all you really need.

I really really hope I did your request justice! I know body dysmorphia, insecurity, and comparison are different for everyone, so I hope this is what you were hoping for. I honestly think that Caitlyn would just shower you with all her love if you felt insecure about anything, so I hope I conveyed it well!

Much love <333

~Cherry 🍒

[siggiedraws]

I'd love to hear more about your view on Sonic too! What do you like (and dislike, if you want) most about him?🍀

There are so many things I love about him it's hard to choose! But a few things do come to mind:

1) Sonic's willingness to help others no matter what, like when Sonic decides to help rescue a girl's village from a dragon in Black Knight despite the fact that this would cause him to run out of time to do Nimue's tasks (luckily, that was actually a test that Sonic passed!) The fact that Sonic just wants to save people who need saving, no matter if that's an inconvenience to him, shows how compassionate and selfless he is. Not to mention his line to Chip where he says "Do I need a reason to want to help out a friend?" makes me emotional every time. He helps people simply because he wants to!

2) Sonic's thrill-seeking nature. He'll do crazy shit just because it's fun and dangerous and you can tell he just lives for it. He sounds so happy and excited whenever it happens that it's really cute. This is very much highlighted in the Storybook games, where Sonic's companion characters often express their chagrin at how reckless Sonic is. This moment in Pirate Storm and this moment in Molten Mine are my favourite examples.

I would say Sonic's thrill-seeking is emboldened by the fact that he faces death head-on and isn't afraid. When he's about to die in Sonic Adventure 2, he keeps his cool and he calmly holds the fake Chaos Emerald, wondering if he can make it through. In Secret Rings, at the realization that the Flame of Judgment's time limit is almost up, he chuckles to himself and apologizes to Shahra for worrying her. This is extremely telling of his selfless character and his lack of self-preservation. Even in death he's not thinking about himself. He's focused on cheering up his friend.

It's something I find very fascinating, for someone who enjoys living so much to lack a fear of death. Though, I would argue that it does bother him on the inside, if even a little bit, going by the lyrics of Unawakening Float: Must I float away? / Will I ever wake?

3) Sonic's love for life and the world around him. Sonic's always fighting to preserve and protect nature from Dr. Eggman's industrialization, and environmental awareness is a prominent theme in the Sonic franchise, so it makes sense that's what Sonic's all about! He remarks in Heroes that he loves Grand Metropolis, for instance, which is a huge eco-friendly city with no pollution. Also, in a 2022 Q&A, Sonic says that restoring all the levels in Generations reminded him of how great the world is, which is genuinely so sweet! 💙

As for Sonic's love for life, the thing with Sonic is that he doesn't have any ultimate goals in life or any dream to achieve. When it comes to living life to the fullest, he exists in the moment and enjoys the present day. He does what makes him happy right here and right now. In other words, he's content without a destination, and he enjoys the never-ending journey. There is a lot I can learn from him!

4) His mystery! What is Christmas Island like? How did he and Eggman first meet? Just who the hell is this guy? No one knows, but Sonic will tell you he's just a normal hedgehog, which may very well be true. There are little hints here and there that point towards the symbolism of his origins, like his folded boots being inspired by Santa Claus, which is why they're red and white with a buckle! I find that such a cool detail. I love the vagueness of his past and I hope it stays that way.

Speaking of Sonic and mystery, did you know that there's a character called Uhu the Wind Genie in Sonic and the Secret Rings, who is known for his speed, and we never see his true form? I wonder who that could be an analogue to...

As for what I dislike about Sonic, that's much harder to answer because I love him so much. Every aspect about him is perfect to me! I suppose if I had to choose one thing… he can just leave without notice for an extended period of time, as seen in the end of Sonic Advance, and that can be very worrying. He's an independent guy and he likes alone time, but I can imagine how his behaviour could frustrate the people around him. Tails flying in the Tornado trying to look for him in the sky breaks my heart.

anyways... I love Sonic so much as you could tell. Thanks so much for your ask! 💙

[spiderb00]

In the spirit of Valentines which might be over by the time you read this but what type of dates do you think the kats prefer. Like who’s more to want a chill staying in type of date, who’s more of a fancy dinner or who’s more of a like fun activity like go karting or stuff like that. As always love your stuff and as a college student I totally understand your stress. Hope you’re taking care of yourself and wishing you the best for this semester🫶🏽

- 🇩🇴

Thank you anon, I feel less alone knowing that more people understand my tiredness. <3 (I'm a little late, sorry)

Sophia would love an intimate date, you'd be cooking together, romantic songs playing over the speaker and the two of you in the kitchen almost burning the meal you made when you were distracted making out.

You'd have dinner by candlelight and exchange gifts you'd made a point of buying. After dinner, you would watch a movie. Actually, it wouldn't be watched all the way through, because you and Sophia simply couldn't keep your hands off each other, especially after the wine you'd had.

Manon would love to go out anywhere with you, and that's really what you do. First you're going for dinner, leaving the restaurant you'd walk around the city, looking for something interesting to do, you'd buy anything she saw in the store windows, and you'd end up at a random concert by an even more random band.

The important thing would be that you would be having A LOT of fun, you both like to feel as free as possible, and exploring the world together was just wonderful. The next morning, you'd be waking up hungover trying to remember where you went, but you'd certainly remember that love was there.

Daniela was more than happy when you took her on a picnic on the beach. You planned everything, a small candlelit dinner in a tent away from people, all to see your girl happy.

You spent a wonderful evening talking, laughing and listening to the sound of the waves. The sparkle in Daniela's eyes made you remember exactly how you fell in love with her, and you were sure to do it again and again.

Lara would be treated like the queen she was born to be, you would take her shopping, buying anything she had her eye on. But soon after, things would start to get more romantic and well-planned.

You'd take her to a music gallery, and she'd be very excited. In the gallery you could play instruments, make your own cool-sounding productions and listen to different versions of songs by your favorite artists. At the end of the day, Lara would be even more excited than at the beginning, talking about all kinds of musical styles and cool things she'd seen.

Megan and you would be jumping for joy in an arcade, but not those simple arcades, but a really cool one that you found while exploring the city in depth. The girl would be like a happy child, and so would you.

Competing in games until you found a game you could play as a pair, then she'd be jumping on you and kissing your lips every time you won. In the end, you'd have lots of tickets, which you'd convert into a big teddy bear that you'd give to Megan.

[brittscafe]

𝐗𝐨𝐱𝐨

Pairing: Mayuri Kurotsuchi x fem! wife! reader

Summary: Mayuri gives his wife a replica of his heart for Valentine's Day

Request: Maybe for Valentine’s Day mayuri giving his wife a replica of his heart cause he loves her? Hope this wasn’t too morbid. You can choose the genre

A/n: Ooohhh, this is such a cool idea! I had so much fun writing this, please enjoy <3

Content: SFW, Mayuri being Mayuri, description of a replica heart.

You're inside Mayuri's lab, bright lights shining down on your face as Mayuri places a box in front of you.

"Go ahead, open it," he nods his head, eyes lighting up with excitement. He cannot wait for you to open the box and see your gift inside.

Mayuri spent a lot of hard work and time into this gift. Many sleepless nights and nights away from you, it's all worth it though.

"I wonder what it is," you comment, undoing the ribbon wrapped around the red box. It's velvet and has soft ripples along the sides.

"I think you'll love it. I spent a lot of time working on it," he explains, a mischievous grin dancing along his face. You glance up at him, lifting up the lid from the box.

It pounds lightly and steady, in sync with Mayuri's, it's almost too real looking.

You beam, gazing down at the pounding, pulsing heart in the box.

"Wow," you gasp out, jaw dropping open in awe. You can tell the amount of work Mayuri put into this heart; veins colored, the four chambers of a heart, and valves.

"Do you like it?" Mayuri asks, pushing the chair back and it scraps on the floor as he stands up. He marches over towards you, eyes narrowing as he takes a stance beside you.

"I love it. It's just like yours," you explain, lifting your hand up and placing it on his chest. You can feel his heart thudding against the palm of your hand.

Mayuri's face softens as the warmth of your hand spreads throughout his body.

His hand cups your cheek and you lean into it, eyes meeting each others. Then his finger outlines your jawline and you swallow thickly, body struggling not to react to him.

"So, now you'll always have my heart, y/n. No matter where I am or what careless things I might be doing," Mayuri explains, a raspy voice sending a chill down your spine.

Your eyes dart back down to the heart, thudding in the box and you beam happily. Your body is buzzing with excitement and you giggle.

"I am really happy that your heart is my gift. Probably, the best gift ever. No one's ever given me their heart," you explain and Mayuri huffs out with amusement.

"Yeah, I could assume that, my dear. I love you," he speaks sternly, but with love. He bows his head down and places a kiss on top of your head.

You grab the box and wrap your arms around it, holding it close to your chest with a smile on your face.

[deepestnightcolor]

☾ ᴄᴜᴘɪᴅ'ꜱ ᴄʜᴏᴋᴇʜᴏʟᴅ ☽

Happy Valentine's, everyone! I hope that, if you want, you can spend your day surrounded by love. Remember, it doesn't always have to be romantic love. It can be a wish you fulfilled yourself, a nice day spent with your friends and/or family, or just a day you eat chocolates. It could also be some time spent with your Valentine that I have brought today - he is already so excited to see you! Have a lovely day, everyone! You are loved <3

ᴀ/ɴ: This can be read as either just a fluff, just a smut, or a fluff leading into smut. It is your choice - it is pretty clear when the fluff ends. Do whatever you feel like, it is your choice!~ ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Sam (SDV) x Fem!Reader

ᴡᴄ: 3000 words in total. Fluff: 1109 words. Smut: 1891 words.

ᴍᴅɴɪ ✧ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: Fluff: love. Smut: unprotected sex, piercings, 69, cursing, name-calling (slut, cocksleeve), praise, you get a pounding.

February had come around quietly, and with that, Valentine’s Day was fast approaching, which meant that Pelican Town started to get covered in a blanket of pink, red, sometimes glittery, heart-shaped love symbols. There were heart-shaped bouquets being sold in the two stores, candy in heart-shaped boxes, cheesy little garlands wrapping around lamp posts, and a billboard happily yelling ‘DON’T FORGET – 14TH OF FEBRUARY IS VALENTINE’S DAY’ at whoever dared to pass by. Of course, not everyone was happy about the pink cloud looming over the small town – Sebastian claimed pink and red ‘fucking hurt in the eyes and make people go blind in these amounts’, Leah didn’t quite understand why a specific day was needed to show anyone their loves and why it needed to be broadcasted like this, and Harvey, while not minding it, worried about ‘people being quite careless in their loving frenzy’. Shane, the old grump, was not Cupid’s biggest friend, either, quite the opposite. He rolled his eyes at every cheerful person he saw and grumbled about the extra workload of stocking up for a ‘made up holiday no one cares about’, even though he knew very damn well that he was going to shell out the money to buy a bouquet for both Jas and Marnie.

Sam, on the other hand, had been shaped by years of listening to his mother’s romance audio books with her while she had been cleaning, and by the romantic telenovelas she had been watching during the colder winter months, which was why it came to no one’s surprise that he not only enjoyed Valentine’s Day, but took it seriously. Especially now that he had met the love of his life – you.

All these years of training would not be in vain – and when Sam made his way to your farm, he came prepared. A bouquet in his one hand – don’t you dare think he had gotten you one from Joja, oh no, Sam had robbed gardens (he had begged Evelyn and Jodi to give him some flowers) for this baby – and a basket in the other. He had been genuinely thinking about holding a rose between his teeth like he had seen in some movies, but much to his dismay, the thorns had won that battle. Still, he was quite proud of what he had in store for you; a hand-drawn card with a letter scribbled on the back, a plushie you had once excitedly pointed out in a store but put back when you had seen the price tag, and – his personal favourite – a handmade bracelet that fitted the one he was wearing around his wrist. You had pointed it out on your first date, and he had spent DAYS recreating it. Yes, Sam was prepared, and nothing would deter him from spending a great Valentine’s with you, not Sebastian complaining about the colours, nor a grumpy co-worker making fun of the love songs he had been blasting through his headphones.

And it did go very damn well – he knew it from the moment you opened the door with that shining glimmer of excitement in your pretty eyes, giddy smile decorating your pretty features, making your face light up and, in turn, making him feel like the sun had climbed from the blue skies to press a tender kiss to his heart and soul. God, he loved you, and he knew he would forever love you the moment your arms wrapped him up in a tender hug. “Happy Valentine’s Day,” he whispered, pressing a lingering kiss to your head – to show you his affection, for one, but also to inhale your scent like he usually did. He was sure; this was what pure love felt like. Warm, and safe, and comfortable. Do not get him wrong – Sam had loved loads and been very loved, too; he loved his mom, his dad and his little brother, he loved Sebastian (and all of them had gotten their little gifts to show his appreciation today, no matter how much they grumbled about pink wrapping paper (Seb did that, with a smile on his face while thrusting a small box containing a gift for Sam toward the blond)) but you? He loved you.

“Come in,” you chirped, and Sam was quick to follow, especially when your fingers wrapped around his wrist to tug you inside, a small chuckle falling from his lips. The scent of pizza lingered in the air, and you had decorated the table in your dining room with a white cloth and some rose petals (that rose had lost the battle, and to be fair? It gave him a little satisfaction), a candle in the middle of it, the tiny flame working hard to dip its surroundings in a soft glow. The man had asked you if you had wanted to go out for dinner for today, but you had shaken your head while telling him you had another idea – and your man had been happy to oblige. He was even happier now that he was sitting across from you in the soft glow of candlelight, a heart-shaped pizza having joined the two of you on the table. “You look gorgeous,” he murmured, grin spreading on his face when his eyes fell on the plushie you had draped over your shoulders. “And he suits you well,” he added, chin pointing loosely toward your little companion, making you reach out to pat the soft head. “I know, right?” You smiled, puffing out your chest before your face suddenly softened. “Thank you so much again, Sam.” “No, thank you, baby,” he cooed back, squeezing your hand lightly, his other hand wandering to the necklace you had gifted him, the tigers eye pendant that dangled from it carefully mined and processed by you, “for the gift, and for being my girlfriend.” The smile you gave him made his heart melt, and for once, Sam was at a loss for words. He just had to take you in for a moment, really let it sink in that all of this was true – you being his. Him being allowed to make you happy. Him just- “Fuck, I love you so much,” he whispered, voice cracking as he looked at you, drinking up the smile you generously gifted him. The card you had made him had already brought him close to tears, and if the night kept going like this – he was indeed going to fucking sob. “I love you, too, Sammy Boy.” He knew you meant it, and he was thanking whatever Cupid that had been merciful enough to make this happen, even if it meant he would be crying from happiness.

It seemed like you really wanted to see him cry tonight, or why else were you wearing that slutty little lingerie set that hugged your curves the same way a bow would wrap around a gift? But that was what you were, right?  A gift – his gift. “So fucking gorgeous,” the blond slurred as he inhaled deeply, blue eyes already completely pussy-drunk. Sam hadn’t even bothered to take off those cute little panties that clung to your hips so nicely, he just didn’t have the time! All he had done was shove them to the side to have them out of the way, to have access to your sweet, sweet pussy, folds already glistening with wetness you had spread by grinding against his thigh as you had sat on his lap just moments before. You did not need to worry, though – your boyfriend was more than happy to lap up what you were giving him as he buried his fat cock in your mouth, weepy, pierced tip kissing the back of your throat.   “So…fucking…good,” he groaned into your cunt, words forced out between messy licks and sinful slurps, muffled by your gorgeous thighs that pressed against his face. You moaned around him in response, coaxing a small whimper from your significant other. He just couldn’t help himself, had to fuck your pretty mouth – just a little! He promised, just a few small thrust upwards, having you take his cock juuust a little more.

And you took it so well - his good girl, his perfect princess; swallowing around his cock even when he stuffed your mouth so full. He just had to reward you with quick licks and desperate suckles on your clit, grunting as your hips shifted to grind down on his face. He would happily take it if you gave him more of those tasty juices, would let you ride his face all day and night long if he could keep tasting you on his tongue as he let the metal ball nestled in the muscle drag over your most sensitive spots. Another moan vibrated through him, making the knot in his stomach tighten, his head becoming lighter. If he was going to die like this – smelling you, tasting you, with his cock down your tight throat, allowed to mindlessly hump at it – he was going to die the happiest man on the whole damn planet.

You worked his cock heavenly, up and down you went while your hips ground back and forth, using his tongue however you pleased. Sam could feel his eyes roll back in his head, needy bitch brain forcing him to try and nuzzle his head further into your cunt, lips wrapping around your clit to suck before his tongue circled your entrance. He could feel you tense on top of him as he edged his tongue inside of you, your breathing becoming heavier as your hands began to drag toward his balls. “Good schlut,” Sam moaned against you, hissing when he felt your fingers wrap around them, giving them a gentle squeeze. He was going to cum, he fucking knew it. His hand came down on your hip in a soft smack and the way you clenched around his tongue told him that you weren’t that far off the edge either, orgasm approaching faster than you would have liked to admit, but he ate you like you were the best meal he had ever and had, hitting all the right spots with his messy licks. A sound that could have been identified as “Sam” had your mouth been a little less of cock sounded against him, making his hips snap up again as a twitch ran through his dick, tongue lapping at you almost desperately as he felt you choke on him. Another smack to your hip had you whining, the stinging sensation combined with Sam’s lapping and sucking made your mind go blank. You were so close, so, so close to just come on your boyfriend’s face. Your breathing came in shallow breaths around him, hips grinding to chase that high, your thighs beginning to twitch as the neatly tied bow in your stomach started to come undone.

Another slurred sound left your mouth, eyes squeezing shut as you were ready to embrace the rushing feeling about to crash over you, but it didn’t happen. Quite the opposite. You didn’t feel anything anymore. No tongue lapping you up, no hands massaging your hips, no cock filling your mouth. No, that was not quite right. You did feel something – the mattress below you were being pinned down on. Sam, who you had been sitting just moments before, was hovering over you now, strands of blonde hair sticking to his sweaty forehead, cheeks reddened and chest flushed with arousal, a grin on his wet lips as he stared down at you.

“So fucking pretty,” he cooed, licking over his lips, his hand wrapped around the base of his cock as he let the pierced tip run through your soppy wet folds. “My princess,” he sighed, sucking in a sharp breath through his teeth as the head of his dick caught your twitchy hole, swallowing down a thick glob of saliva that was threatening to spill past his lips, “I am so sorry…jus’ needed you on my cock s’badly, need that pretty fuckin’ cunt to swallow me whole, jus’- jus’ like thaaaat, fuck,” he whined as he pushed his tip past the ring of your cunt, his eyes rolling in the back of his skull. This surely wasn’t the first time the two of you fucked, but feeling your walls wrap around him always made the breath be knocked out of his lungs.

He took a gasping lungful of air as he slowly pushed forward, his eyes flickering from your face to your pussy, watching your sweet little cunt stretch to accommodate his size, back up to your face to see the dick-drunken look in your eyes. Another deep breath was needed before he could finally pull back, one of his hands wrapping around your ankle to push your leg back – he just needed deeper access, just needed all of you to wrap around him like the pretty little cocksleeve you were.

“My girl,” Sam croaked, soaking in the string of moans that fell from your lips, his hips starting to pump in and out of you slowly, letting the feeling of your wet gummy walls around him really sink in as he pulled back, just to be bottoming out inside of you completely again. Poor Sam was never able to keep up this slow pace for long, however. You simply were too much of a delicious treat for him to stay with this slow rock of hips, especially when you moaned his name like this – all stupid and needy. You pretty much didn’t give him any other choice than to hump into you quickly, filling you up just to pull back and fuck inside of you again in a fast pace, have your tits bounce as your eyes rolled, nails digging into his shoulders as you whined and begged for more. Really, he just needed to rut into you like his life depended on it, his dick had to bully your poor cunt, metal of his piercing dragging along your walls in a toe-curling caress. He simply loved you so much, and fucking you like this was the best way to show it, wasn’t it?

“Saaaahammm!” You whined, your hips snapping forward, nerve endings still raw and tingling from how close you had been before, but Sam did not let up. Your boyfriend pounded your cunt, his pierced tongue lulling out of his mouth, just to drag over your hardened nipple moments later, whimpering when your back arched toward him to have him suck it into his mouth.

The wet sounds of both his mouth sucking your nipple and your bodies meeting in a rough kiss didn’t veil what the two of you were doing, and your yells of his name only told the walls of the room who was fucking you so well, who made you see sparks with each thrust. “’M gonna cum! Sam, I am gonna cum! Fuck,” you cried, hips bucking helplessly to meet his thrust, to have him impossibly deeper, to take what was given to you. “Yes, baby, cum for me! Cum for me, make that cunt gush ‘round my cock, please, fuck, you are gonna gush around my cock,” he growled, moan rolling off his tongue as his dick pulsed.

Dick fucking into you roughly as your body began to tremble, taut muscles twitching as your back arched in again, your lower lip quivering as you tried to let a sound escape, but the force of your orgasm had you in a chokehold, leaving your brain empty and vocal chords unmoved until finally, a high-pitched cry of his name tore from you, your cunt spasming around his cock, pretty walls massaging his girthy shaft.

“That’s it, princess, hoooo, that’s fucking iiiit.” The groaned words were drawled, his own orgasm having his balls pull tight toward his body, breaths coming out in quick puffs. You looked up at him with love in your eyes, the high of your orgasm having blown the thoughts from your mind, and Sam was not holding up much better. He couldn’t think about anything but how much he loved you, and each soft smack of the pendant against his lean chest served him as another reminder.

“Gonna fill ya up, baby, all the way. You want my cum, hm? Want me to fuck my cum into that pretty cunt, yes? Come on,” he whispered, squishing your cheek with gentle fingers, small moan of appreciation sounding when you nodded eagerly. So dumb and yet so greedy for his dick and cum, weren’t you? Fuck.

A sudden hitch in his breath as Sam fucked deep inside of you, humping into your cunt without pulling out much, craving to cum as deep inside of you as humanly possible. “Saaaam, please. Need your cum!” You sobbed, toes curled and legs shaking. Sam couldn’t hold back anymore, cock twitching as thick ropes of cum filled your cunt. Quick breaths were pressed through Sam’s teeth, his hips working his sensitive dick into your cunt to truly stuff you full as your clenching walls worked on milking him nothing but dry. Slurred words tumbled from his lips, produced by his fuck-drunken brain and not at all coherent, but they didn’t need to be for you to understand them as praise, welcoming them with a weak moan as your body trembled as you neared overstimulation.

Your boyfriend’s thrusts slowed inside of you, becoming more of lazy drags and small shoves as he looked into your eyes, his hand slowly guiding your leg back on the mattress, instead finding your cheek to cup as he finally stilled inside your abused little pussy.

You both stayed like that for a while, silently staring into one another eyes, basking in the sweaty aftermaths of your orgasms, before the blond finally leaned down to press a kiss on your slightly swollen lips. “Happy Valentine’s Day, baby,” he whispered, when you finally parted, making you chuckle weakly. “Happy Valentine’s, Sammy,” you whispered, cleavage flushed, looking like an absolute angel, and he knew he was fucking done for.

[midnight-mourning]

Only Place Worth Being

Little something for one of my Secret Valentine's! Hope you enjoy Ben, one of my fav love songs is a bit angsty, but I promise is all works out in the end <3

Song rec: Cold Cold Man - Saints Motel

Word Count: 2302

💘💘💘💘💘💘💘💘💘💘💘💘💘💘💘💘💘

You sigh, feeling defeated as you set the vase back down on the desk. All day, you'd waited for any kind of acknowledgement. A thank you, a nod, even just a passing glance. 

Nothing. Nothing at all.

Another gift, another failed attempt. 

And on Valentine's, at that. 

You take one of the flowers out, twisting it between your fingers. 

Maybe flowers weren't their thing? Though, that implied that neither were cards, stuffed animals, art supplies, and—okay yeah maybe this was a pattern. 

Maybe gift-giving wasn't their love language? They always accepted gifts from the children without hesitation, fawning over them and the likes. Proudly announcing their joy at receiving something so lovely, and displaying it for all to see somewhere in the Daycare. Could it really just be all an act? 

You try to reason with yourself more and more as you set the flower back. You felt bad that they'd go to waste, and almost considered taking them home with you, but that just felt… pathetic. And rude. 

You need to face the facts; they just didn't love you like you did them. 

They didn't love you at all, for that matter.

You've tried everything to tell them when it came to your side. Hinted at it, joked about it, did everything except outright say the words. And the only reason you hadn't done that was because you felt almost certain of the rejection that would occur. 

So, you tried for the most part to keep your feelings to yourself, only letting slip ups like this happen once in a blue moon. A moment of weakness, a moment of 'what if'. Though you've yet to have that happen. 

You know they tolerated you, you think you were friends at the very least. 

They would tease you, make you laugh, and so on. You worked well together, be that keeping the kids corralled for arts and crafts, or for naptime. You'd spent many a night working late cleaning up, chatting, flirting. Or at least, you'd thought so.

"Sunshine, could you help me clean this table please?" Sun would ask, more than capable of doing it on his own. 

But you'd oblige with a smile and a nod, heart racing every time your hands brushed against each other. Seemingly too many times to just be 'incidental'. 

"Starlight, sit and read this with me, I want to make sure it's something the children will enjoy." Moon insisted, pulling you into his lap where you'd stay until he deemed otherwise. 

But during the day it was almost the complete opposite. They were professional, to the point. Conversational, but brief. Their laughter at your jokes not quite as full, more nervous, or hollow. 

It almost made you feel like you were going crazy, getting the most mixed signals of your life. Maybe that's why you hadn't given up until this point. You always somehow managed to get drawn back in. 

A bout of excited yelling from further in the Daycare interrupts your melancholic thought process. You see Sun is busy with several of the remaining kids, acting out some sort of scene with them as a distractor while they wait to be picked up. 

You lean back against the security desk, sad smile on your lips as you observe. They'd make someone very happy one day, you think. It just wasn't going to be you. 

You needed to finally accept that. 

Sometime a bit later, as you're packing up your bag, your phone rings. Taking a glance you see it's your manager. You answer, not thinking as you're digging in your bag for your keys. 

"Hey." She says. 

"Hey." You reply. 

She sighs, you can hear the tap of a pen. "I got your file pulled up here. Talked to the manager over in rockstar row and they said they're happy to have an extra set of hands if I've got 'em. I just wanted to double check with you before I make any changes."

You cringe at her words, as if you hadn't been expecting them, or this call. You wanted this. You asked for it. You couldn't seriously be upset that you'd gotten exactly what you had asked for. Deal with it now or suffer the consequences later.

It had been the only way, you'd argued. Your little crush was affecting your day to day, and theirs. It wasn't fair to keep pushing when they weren't going to give. And if you stayed here you'd just feel like a burden, and that's the last thing you wanted. You decided that you'd still do your best to remain friends, maybe hang around and offer guidance and the likes to whoever took your place.

"I, yeah, give me a second,"—you still can't find your keys, now confused and frustrated—"I can't seem to find my—"

A jingling sound from behind you stops you in your tracks. And just as you turn around to find yourself face to chest with a yellow torso do you hear the 'call ended' noise go through your phone. 

Only then do you realize you'd been on speaker. 

Your eyes slowly move up, meeting Sun's gaze after a moment. 

His smile is as static as always but his eyes are narrow slits that sear into you. You shift your focus slightly to the left to see your keys spinning around his finger. He clears his nonexistent throat and your focus goes back to him. 

No point in beating around the bush. "Um, I was… going to tell you guys. Once it was for sure going to happen. Didn't think you'd take my keys as punishment." The joke is a bust and you know it, especially given his entirely unwavering gaze. 

"Oh, Sunbeam. We took your keys much earlier today, for a different reason entirely." He suddenly bends to your level, rays ticking to the side. "But now, I think I'll be keeping them. Because an explanation is in order."

You think you'd find him intimidating in that moment, but building off your earlier feelings—and all the others you've kept in for so long—all you find is anger and frustration pouring forth. 

"I'm the one who owes an explanation? What about you? What about the both of you and this… game you've been playing with me?" You stand straight, poking a finger into his chest as he jumps back from the touch. It only fuels your fire. "I just, I can't get you. Can't wrap my head around how you can just go from being all over me to flinching at my touch. I think you like me, think you care, and then snap! It's like we're back to square one again. Do you know how much that hurts? Besides the fact that I love you, even if it was just as a friend, being this hot and cold with someone is just cruel, you know. So I was just trying to save all three of us the trouble and finally take myself out of the picture. Because lord knows you two have probably been dying for that to happen."

You take a gasping breath, hand coming up to your hair as you breath heavy, tears pricking your eyes. You dare to spare a glance over to the Attendant. If he didn't hate you before, well, he probably does now. And you're sure it'll be the same with Moon. 

You cough into the silence, cheeks starting to burn. "Now. Can I have my keys back, please?"

Sun doesn't answer you, and you suddenly hear a loud thump. You jump, whipping to look at him and find that he's dropped to his knees. 

He looks nowhere in particular as he speaks, voice barely a whisper. "No, surely... is that, what have I—" He grips his rays tight, they squeak under the force. His words become unintelligible to you, and it's then you realize he's switched to binary. It's garbled, grating, and it worries you. 

You rush over, reaching out to touch his shoulder, but hesitate. "Sun, is everything okay?"

No response, the binary grows in volume, worse, harsher. 

You finally have no choice and have to put your hands on his shoulders. "Sun! Talk to me, Pretty bot."

He snaps to attention, eyes meeting yours as you rub soothing circles into his shoulders. Slowly, his hands release his rays, dropping to his sides. He leans into your touch, head drooping and dropping onto your shoulder. You ignore anything this action stirs in you, especially when he lets out a quiet sigh. 

"Pretty bot?" He asks after a moment.

You can't help the laugh that slips out. "You act like I've never called you that before."

"I took it for granted, then." His hands travel up to rest on your own shoulders, squeezing. "If I'd realized how high the chances were of never hearing it again, I would have treasured it more than I do."

You freeze at this, and he notices, pulling back to look at you, rays spinning a couple times. 

"I'm so, so sorry love, give me, us, a chance to explain, would you?" His hand cups your cheek. "We don't deserve it, but it would mean everything if you did."

You swallow, nodding slowly. "Okay."

Sun rises to his feet again, and extends a hand to you. You pause for a moment, then take it. He suddenly pulls you into a spin, and the Daycare music stops, switching to something else, modern, pop. A piano riff begins to play and Sun guides you into dancing along. 

Sun chuckles softly. "The concept of love, and feelings, it's... exceedingly difficult for us to express properly in words of our own. But, we both think this song puts it near perfectly."

The singer starts then, and you recognize the tune. It's an old favorite of yours, and you know the lyrics well. 

'Oh, my love. I know, I am a cold, cold man. Quite slow to pay you compliments, or public displayed affections...'

You snicker to yourself. That one hit you right in the chest, you won't deny. But the direct acknowledgement right off the bat was a start. 

At the chorus, Sun's hands grip yours tightly. You realize then that he's trembling slightly. 

'You're the only one worth seeing, the only place worth being, the only bed worth sleeping is the one right next to you...'

"Sun—" You start, concerned.

He shakes his head. "We're okay. Please, keep listening."

You frown, but nod. 

The two of you continue to sway and spin, and you listen, really listen. It may be an old favorite, but they've given you an entirely different context to hear it in now. Feel it in now. Appreciate it, now. 

If it's truly a representation of how they feel, for you, then it's finally happened. They've broken you. You keep your feelings inside, waiting until the song is over to say anything. 

As the music fades out, Sun stops your movements, but keeps your hands held in his. 

He speaks before you can. "This is all, so new, to us. And we simply find it terrifying. We don't know how to act, what to do. It's all…  so much. But we were so focused on our own feelings towards you that we neglected you." He looks up to you then, even with that unmoving face of his he's still able to convey a look of genuine distraught and remorse. "We're so, so sorry, love."

"I—"

In that moment, the lights cut, the Daycare—and the Attendant momentarily—powering down.  

Still holding your hands, Moon appears, faceplate spinning once or twice as he meets your gaze. 

Again, you don't get your chance to speak first. "You can hate us if you must. If that does anything to ease the pain we've caused." The naptime attendant rasps out. "To be truthful, I almost wish you would. It's been more than earned." He lets you go then, stepping back. 

"Was it true?" You ask. "About the song being an accurate representation of… how you feel?" You glance down, biting your lip. 

"Stars, Moonbeam. It wasn't even the half of it. It's so much more than that. But yes, to a point, yes."

You shake your head, stepping forward. After a moment, you hold out your arms wide. Moon gets the idea, enveloping you in a hug soon thereafter. 

"I was hurting, a lot." You say against his shoulder.

"I know."

"I was so close to leaving."

Moon makes a rumbling noise, holding you tighter. "We know."

"If this is gonna work, we have to talk more. Okay?"

"As much as you want. Whenever you want. Anything, anything that you'll let us have." You find that he, too, is trembling now. 

You chuckle, petting his hat in an attempt to soothe him. "If that's the case, I guess I can let go of some of the anguish the two of you have put me through."

"We'll do whatever it takes to take that away. To make up for it. Promise. Promise. Promise." It occurs to you then that he's lifting and pressing his faceplate, specifically his smile, into your shoulder. Kissing, he's kissing you.

Oh.

You gently push him back, cupping his faceplate. "Hey, why settle for the alternatives when you can have the real deal?" 

Moon stares at you a moment, so still you'd think he powered down. Then, you're being peppered with kisses all over your face. Your cheeks, your forehead, your nose, and your lips, especially your lips. 

You laugh, trying half-heartedly to push him away. "Quit it! I'm serious! So greedy."

"Yes." Moon hisses in between kisses. "Absolutely. Always."

You finally give in and succumb to the love being bestowed upon you then. You think you liked the sound of that. 

Always.

💘💘💘💘💘💘💘💘💘💘💘💘💘💘💘💘💘

Gahhh this was a lot of fun, a bit angsty but I think it got cute and sweet by the end, I was really channeling the song and like the vibes, Happy Valentine's Bensus!!!

Adding the tag list since it's writing stuff

@scarletcowboy @beemyhuneybee @fishm0ther @deviouscrackers @elsajoyagent8 @luckyyyduckyyy @zenkaiankoku @jogimote @local-shrub @milosmantis @robinette-green @everlightreader @sinister-sincerely @starredeclipse @dangerva @juukai @crystalmagpie447 @mothgutz236 @lizyxml @divinit3a @amarynthian-chronicles @crystalfay @that-one-unknown-artist @rosescarletful @buzzybee3

[l-in-the-light]

The most embarrassing series of posts about Lawlu you will ever read: edition Wano (part 15)

Finally, it's time to analyze the raid! Lots of scrutinizing, sometimes literally frame by frame analysis here, hehe. I had a blast preparing it, hope you all enjoy :3

And we start from the very beginning of the raid, yeah, that's right :D it's interesting how Luffy had the choice to fight in samurai attire but decided against it at the last moment and went on with his own clothes instead. The mantle looks a bit similar to what Shanks wears, but it's curious how both Law AND Luffy suddenly came up with the same idea, both wearing mantles while never caring for it before, right? Great minds think alike, or perhaps...? It's always curious to see Luffy, who is very attached to his usual clothes, to change his wardrobe to fit the occassion :D it's more evident in movies I guess. But on the way to Dressrosa, Luffy did enjoy dressing as a samurai a lot.

Those mantles are reminescent of Shanks and Cora-san respectively ofc. I don't count Kid, he was wearing his furry one ever since Sabaody, heh.

Law allows Luffy to get the spotlight here btw and for him to say one of the coolest lines of the whole raid too. He might mind taking orders or looking bad in front of third parties (like Kid), but overall? He gives away the credit. Aren't they equal in this alliance after all? Yet he chooses again for Luffy to take the centre of the stage.

In a moment Law will be moody and picking up fights lol, but it doesn't override this tranquil moment of just "standing" side by side with his ally. Speaking of picking up fights, manga and anime provide us two different reasons behind it though. Let's start with the anime.

Anime added a tiny little interaction which I made into a gif above (I wanted a vid, but eh, no matter how much I converted, it still didn't want to upload here, so the gif would have to do ¯\_(ツ)_/¯).

Luffy (his ship passes by Law's ship, he smiles but doesn't say anything to Law, instead shouts to Kid): You came after all, Gizao!

Kid: I won't let you have Kaido's head, Strawhat!

Law: *tsk*

Luffy doesn't say the usual "HI TORAO!" or give any sort of acknowledgment to Law and instead focuses on Kid there. But if you followed with my analysis for all the previous parts then you know already that it basically never happened before. Luffy is always spotting Law and giving him attention immediately. But here, arguably only the smile might have been meant for him (or not, debetable, he did smile towards Kid before in Udon when he asked him to beat Kaido together).

Law's reaction to all of that? He just made an annoyed noise. He didn't get Luffy's attention, even though by all means he should have expected to get some acknowledgement of his presence. And to rub salt into the wound, Kid got that attention instead. The very same Kid Law was jealous about twice before! LOL The first time was on the way to Dressrosa (Luffy getting excited finding out about Kid's alliance) and second time in Wano, when Law noticed news about Kid being kept in Udon. He made quite a big reaction, especially so in the anime, when he was completely spiraling into his own thoughts and neglected everything happening around him for a bit, lol. I think this indeed proves, perhaps, that Law is jealous. Kinda relatable, he's Luffy's ally, he was there for the whole ride, not Kid, why would Luffy give all the attention to the new friend he found in Udon instead? If I can relate to this so easily then perhaps it means I'm just as petty omg.

But little does he know, Luffy probably acted this way because of his undying confidence in Law. Of course Law appeared at the day of the raid, Luffy would never doubt that. Kid, on the other hand, was a big unknown in comparison and told Luffy before that he won't show up, so... Luffy is lowkey calling out Kid for his lie here, heh. And we know Luffy dislikes it when people lie to him!

Luffy was in fact so confident and had so much faith in things working out (despite leaving it all in other people's hands, like Law's or Kinemon's), that he stuffed himself silly and fell asleep, so he's well rested before the battle. The very same Luffy who protested in WCI that rest and bath should be reserved for after-battle celebrations, mind you. Now he acts almost like he listened to doctor's advice to gather the most strength and not waste it around before the raid. You think he listened to Chopper? Nah, for once that wasn't coming from Chopper. We heard that discourse of "saving up your strength for the raid" from this particular individual:

Which means, Luffy again did listen to Law. Good boy. But wait, you might say, Luffy wasn't present in this scene! Sure, he wasn't, but his crew was and Law basically drilled into their heads this mindset (now that I think of it, he probably can be a bit annoying with repeating the same stuff again and again. He has this slightly preaching vibe about him). They for sure told Luffy after he broke out of Udon.

This one is a bit curious. Kinemon is apologizing that the plan got leaked and Luffy looks very surprised (he's not looking at Kanjuro despite their frames being right after one another). Luffy didn't know about Kanjuro's betrayal yet at this point, so it would make no sense for him to stare at him (Kanjuro's frame is there because he's gleefully proud of himself as being the source of trouble). So what or who is Luffy looking at? Considering what Kinemon is saying, he's looking in his direction, clearly confused. And where is Kinemon kneeling? On Law's submarine.

Yes, it's likely Luffy isn't looking at Kin directly, but more like searching for Law's reaction to this. But Luffy isn't distressed, he's a bit surprised instead and seeking for confirmation, imo. Despite that, it doesn't faze him, not really (when was Luffy ever fazed in situations like that anyway? Luffy's usual idea how to deal with complications is by beating more bad guys), he's just concerned because he cares a lot for both Kin and Law (and by extension for samurais and the raid).

In next page, they find out from Kaido's minions that Kaido and Big Mom formed an alliance together. Everyone is reacting with shock to the news and focus on the alliance part... except this guy again, reacting with a very annoyed face and spurting "Big Mom...?!!" instead.

Law reacts to the news about Big Mom firstmost, because he remembers who travelled to her territory to get one of his people back, uhum. And swore not to cause any trouble and do it discreetly. Now Law found out the "discreet" part completely failed and Luffy managed to bring his tail (in the form of a very furious emperor of the sea) with him to Wano. He doesn't seem very pleased with that. He's so overfocused on it that the whole "alliance between emperors" thing feels *less siginificant* in this moment, even though it's devastating news! LOL. Please, mr Strategist, keep it together, without you this raid won't ever reach Kaido!!

He's not very pleased with this outcome, because in the next pages he calls Luffy per "idiot" which he actually doesn't do very often (just sometimes), but always when it's deserved (it's completely deserved here lol).

And I think this disappointment that Luffy brought Big Mom with him is the explanation of why Law is acting like a brat and wants to take over (in the manga). No more giving away the spotlight! Law has to again tidy things up after Luffy, after all. This might also be his silly anger that is hiding the fact he got worried. What exactly did Luffy do in WCI? Law must have asked himself that question countless times before, but decided it's not important to know the details as long as Luffy is back. Seems their escape was not safe at all and it's the moment Law realized it. It probably hit him like a piano to the coyotte's head like in that cartoon, you know which one, right??

Putting his inner thinking process aside, we shouldn't forget how rare it is that Law is feeling like "showing off" and quarreling like a brat with the other Supernovas. He's always the responsible guy, only with them he acts a bit like a child, and we know most of his childhood got robbed from him. So all of this results in unforeseen wholesome consequences, Law can behave more freely, like a bratty teen for once.

Important to note here is that Law is only speaking to Luffy directly and facing him as they quarrel. Kid faces Law, but never gets any attention back, lol. It's even more emphasized in the anime version:

Oh boy, in the anime the insult only gets worse. Not only Luffy didn't acknowledge Law's presence, he also gave out an order "stand back" in everyone's hearing range. Add Law's jealousy to it and annoyance about the Big Mom, and Law's big reaction isn't suddenly so strange anymore. It's easy to understand why he would tell Luffy to stand back instead and that he can't rely on him anymore.

Luffy doesn't want to give in and doesn't understand why Law doesn't let him take care of things. Luffy is a simple person, when he says someone takes care of something, he always lets them do it, so he really wants to know why Law wouldn't let him. Normally Luffy also would just proceed to do whatever he wants anyway, but he stops and takes time to actually *listen to Law* first instead. He's also (comically) taken really aback when Law shouts at him, calling both him and Kid morons. Luffy is not used to Law treating him like that lol. Seriously, he's not! Law always downplays Luffy's blame in everything, gives away his own credit and gives in to Luffy, but here, for some reason, he insists not to. But Luffy realized whatever it is, Law is not feeling like sharing the reason, so he decides to do what he usually does: showing Law he's capable of dealing with this no problem, on his very own.

Now let's take a closer look at Law and his body language here. Despite Law's assertive words and declaration that he can't count on Luffy, when Luffy asked to leave the enemy ships up to him, Law did lower his hand that was already prepared to set up the room. Again, his body language and words contradict each other, he says he can't rely on Luffy but he also lowers his hand like he's prepared to do just that: rely on him. He still respects Luffy enough to pause and talk, even if he has no intention of giving in. He also clenches his hand into a fist right afterwards, which can mean that he's made a firm resolve here: to act a certain way and preservere despite his initial instinct. To provide another examples of similar situation, he clenched his fists when he wanted to run out of the hospital and didn't want to visit any doctors (in the flashback), but he stayed for Cora-san. He also clenched his fist like that when Luffy was leaving for Whole Cake Island, like a reminder of his own resolve. did Law actually want to go with him instead? I guess we will never know...

Want my wildest guess here? I think Law regretted leaving Luffy alone with the WCI mission (if he did go as well, he would make sure not to bring Big Mom along!), thought he was wrong to leave for Wano himself and should have followed Luffy like he wanted to, which is why here he wants to take over now to compensate for it, lol.

But you know, he might just be simply petty because he disliked that Luffy gave him an order, in front of Kid of all people. It's rarely just one reason for Law's behaviour anyway.

Of course Law wins in their little competition thanks to the rain. He also says: "You two are losers, no complaints then, right?" which shows that he thinks that winning in the race is enough to make them stand back, because (in his mind) he won his right to take care of the things. In a way, that's somehow honorable. But it's also his answer to what Luffy said "first come, first served" - Law was the first one so Luffy should by all means back off, lol. Luffy almost got forced to accept that, but he doesn't, he's too stubborn for that. It's hard to say who is more stubborn sometimes: Law or Luffy. Law also constantly regrets his decision to compete in the first place, if his furrowed brows reactions are anything to go by.

It's funny how Luffy is still going on about Law retreating, like he truly expected him to. Who knows, maybe in other circumenstances, Law actually would, lol. Here we are, taking Law's reaction in the raid as a given, as his *usual* reaction (hating to take orders, not leaving things up to Luffy, not liking to be treated as support), but seems it's actually something that is *against their usual dynamics* instead. Why would Luffy be so baffled otherwise? Luffy is not an idiot who doesn't pay attention to his friends, he does his best with that. He's at least smart enough to figure out how Zoro and Sanji are super important for each other, despite always fighting and quarreling. And yet here Luffy is only getting more and more baffled, which explains why he later paid so much attention to Law's moody attitude at Onigashima's roof battle as well. He knew Law was in bad mood ever since the beginnng of the raid and acted strange, and Luffy finally was able to identify the (biggest part of the) reason behind that (spoiler alert: it was the presence of Kid). Not here yet though, lol.

Law's comments about his room are also quite hilarious. When he answers Luffy he's just like "who cares" or "so what", dismissive, because Luffy should have known better not to pick up a competition with him in the rain, Luffy knows his devil fruit ability pretty well by now. Honestly, Luffy can blame only himself here. Law didn't even have to acknowledge his comment in any way, but he did, because well, he can never resist giving attention to Luffy, even when they're quarreling. That's some crazy standards he has right there and seems he only has them for people he likes/respects (and in most cases it's Luffy). Law's answer to Kid is much worse: "I don't want to hear that from you (who is a show off)". He's just being mean to him and only because he can, lol. Though it's true Kid is a show off, so you know, just stating the facts ;)

Now after they destroyed that ship, it's time for more arguing, of course. In previous series of screenshots I included the frame in which they attack the ships. Law destroyed the ship's keel at the top (his attack is indicated by the blue light), while Luffy and Kid both did side attacks instead. If you remember Water 7, keel is the ship's spine, doing damage to it is literally rendering the ship useless and beyond repair. I will let you judge who was the one who ultimately destroyed those ships :D also this sorta proves Law has some basic knowledge about how ships work! Not that I ever doubted it.

Kid immediately tries to brag, but Law ignores his comment completely and doesn't even look at him, he just points towards the next target. He has already resigned himself to be in company of morons lol. Luffy also looks at Law and decides he will show off to Law some more, by destroying the very ship Law pointed towards! He's surprised that he got Law's direct reply (his face goes all :O for a second). Why would Luffy be so surprised that Law answered him? He should be used to it by now? Indeed, but Law is behaving strange according to Luffy here and he just saw him ignore Kid completely, despite Kid complaining for being ignored. Luffy must have thought he will get the same treatment as Kid did, perhaps because Law is angry, but surprise, Law didn't ignore him. He talks to Luffy and even looks at him as he does. I can only imagine Kid fuming even more when he noticed the difference in treatment lol.

But the thing he tells him is another matter heh. Of course Law points out that he was the one who destroyed the ship and the others are just playing around, not taking this seriously. Luffy is mad, because he is taking it seriously, he's just unaware that the damage he dealt and the damage Law dealt are fundamentally different (one was fatal, the other didn't have to be). It's still quite a childish thing to quarrel about anyway, lol.

In the manga as well, Law is mostly facing Luffy and pointing at him when they quarrel, completely ignoring Kid. So who thinks Kid feels here like a third wheel?

I also wonder if Luffy secretly slightly enjoys having a competition with Law (just the competition part, not the quarrel part!). You can see his eyes going all serious and business-like a couple of times, lol.

Then we have a break from the fight and everyone learns the raid is gonna be just fine, samurais made it. Luffy cheered up quickly and Law calmed down as well, seems he let out the steam and he embraced the Big Mom's situation already. He even is back to being worried 24/7 and reminds Luffy that Big Mom is unforeseen circumenstances here so he shouldn't let his guard down. Look at him, he doesn't even mention that it was Luffy's fault that Big Mom is even here in the first place! Despite this being a perfect opportunity for it! Now that I think of it, I can't remember even one situation in which Law blamed Luffy openly or directly for anything. He is capable of doing that to other people though, he blamed Zoro from head to toes at the start of the arc, lol. Just not Luffy... He kinda accepted it as something caused by, you know, natural causes ;) Besides, if Law really thinks he should have come along to WCI, then of course he takes the blame on himself instead in the end (as in: he could have prevented this outcome).

After they learn about Denjiro's betrayal of Kaido, Luffy laughs. Law looks to his side then, and when we follow the next frame we see of them, it seems he was looking at Luffy, not the ships. Catching Luffy smiling made him look at him and smile too, huh. I love the anime staff for adding this little interaction here between them. It's almost too cute and wholesome ❤

Anyway, I guess they're good already, quarrel's over, we can all go home now, lol.

In next moment Law already moved on, somehow thinking Luffy and Kid are done as well. They're so not, lol. Law doesn't bother anymore though, finally leaving it up to them, even though he thinks destroying the few leftover ships is actually no longer neccessary.

It's especially funny to compare it to his attitude from the very beginning, before they learned about the Big Mom being in Wano. He's commenting "they're showing off again" and smirking at the sight, completely calm. That attitude won't be back till the end of the raid lol. RIP.

Then we learn that Jimbei is here to join the Strawhats crew. Law is disbelieving with "uso daro?!" (literally: "you're lying, right?" or less literally how it's translated above lol). No one's tricking you Law, but his reaction proves that he never heard of this development before, despite the fact Luffy wanted Jimbei to join ever since Fishman Island! He had multiple occassions to mention it to Law, even if he couldn't have the opportunity to do it after WCI.

Now why does Law care so much? Is it because he feels ignored as an ally? Or perhaps? He feels a bit weirded out, because after Marineford, it was him and Jimbei in Amazon Lily witnessing Luffy rampaging in grief and sorrow, and now it turns out that same Jimbei is joining Luffy's side... I wonder what incredulous thoughts are going through Law's head in this moment. Is he terrified? Impressed? Both at the same time? Let's not forget Luffy did declare Law his crewmate all by himself in Dressrosa already and Law's expression might be the flashback to that memory, because this puts Jimbei and Law in suspiciously similar positions here (parallels-wise). Both of them were there at Amazon Lily with Luffy, both are captains of their own crews, even both of them were warlods of the sea at some point! Tbh I would be also questioning my sanity here, if I was Law, lol.

Kid's reaction to the new development quickly turns to him smirking and walking away, minding his own business. It's interesting, because right after we see Law's reaction which is the direct opposite. He's staring in Luffy's ship direction, not even looking away when Kinemon joins him. He seens a bit whimsical or even has this odd lonely aura around him. Actually, he kinda is left out here. He's Luffy's ally, right now they're together, but he gets kinda excluded from this event. Like yeah, it's not his business, it's Luffy's own crew, not Law's. And yet his *stare* says something different here.

Anime really put emphasis on it, but he does the exact same in manga, if you pay attention. He's also saying that slightly spiteful and petty comment (it is a bit spiteful, come on, let's face that fact). Also I can't help but think that Law is staring at Luffy directly again who is doing all those cheerful excited gestures with his hands raised above him. Their ships are close enough that they can hear what the Strawhats are saying, so definitely can see it too.

Also if you think Law never intended to create a plan for Strawhats because he finally learned to leave them be, then think back to what he did right after explaining the plan (very reluctantly because he was still holding some grudge apparently) to Kinemon and samurais.

His plan already included Strawhats in it (in quite a brilliant way, he decided to use their natural tendencies and made place for it in his double diversion tactics, even if it is also funny af). He calls them just "two idiots" which in Japanese is a bit more nuaunced... he says "baka nikai" (a very curious phrase to use. Nikai is how you count the number of times something happened, most often used as "twice". So the meaning should be closer to something like this: "no matter what plan you think of, there will be an occurance of some idiot (make the occurance twice) appearing to ignore it anyway". Would be so fitting for his peculiar way of speaking sometimes, lol). He feels the need to specify how many idiots he means, because he's speaking to the samurais and they don't know Kid, so he provides helpful context (not really, just the base minimum of it lol). He actually specifies it like an afterthought here, which proves he uses "baka" for plural people quite frequently. This is also second time he officially does that, I wrote about the first use in the previous post. Baka can be used to refer to plural number of people, no need for unnatural forms like baka-tachi, it all depends on the context in the end, as always.

Right after he tells samurais the plan, he goes back to stare at Luffy's ship only to realize it's gone now. He probably wanted to try to tell them what they decided, despite what he declared earlier: that there's no need to set up a plan for Luffy's group or share anything with them, lol. He went back on his own words really quickly.

It happens in anime as well and is more emphasized. Someone's worried again lol. What happened to "don't bother with them" attitude, Law? :D yep, already completely gone. So yeah, if you believed his petty spite from earlier, congrats, you fell for him pretending not to care, lol yes, I fell for it too, only after analysis it dawned on me that he was just petty.

In manga he's much calmer, but then he's also turned with his back to the reader, so it's also harder to tell. His reaction seems less big in comparison and his speech bubble is normal, not shouting :) he also doesn't seem very alerted, which indeed proves that in the manga, Law got a bit more used to Strawhats antics and doesn't overreact to every tiny thing anymore (which is both awesome and a bit of a pity, but at least we have the anime to still deliver on that overreacting front, hehe).

For comparison purposes. Completely different attitude, haha.

Luffy and the Strawhats destroy one of the minor (but important) enemy bases and Luffy spots Law's submarine and waves to Kinemon immediately, looking very happy. This shows Luffy probably did hear Kin shouting to them before, he was just too excited to react in time :D

If you think Luffy only thinks of Kinemon here, you would be gravely mistaken. It's likely he spotted the submarine and got happy instantly because of the Polar Tang's captain as well. After all, Kinemon and Law ARE on same ship. I swear Brook is looking there too... or is he staring at Zoro and Sanji bickering with each other? Lol.

The same moment in the anime. You can spot the exact moment in which Luffy's beaming smile appears as he spots the submarine ❤ he's also doing his happy X pose and waving his hands like crazy hoping they can see him.

Luffy wants to celebrate Jimbei joining the crew with the Strawhats here (it was actually prompted by Franky first, believe it or not), but then ditches the idea after submarine swims by. This moment puzzled many fans, me included, which is why I was cracking my head open to try to see if I missed something and why does this feel so damn important. Even the chapter's title, "Party Off", underlines the fact that they're delaying the party for crew joining, and by all means this chapter should be called instead with Jimbei's crewmate number (shall be the 9th, because Brook's chapter was called the 8th). I have come to my own conclusions and I will share them at the end of this post.

There will be a lot of focus on the anime, because it really expands on this scene. It's also one of the episodes done by the most oustanding animator in OP's anime department (she also did the famous One Piece Fan Letter special).

Luffy is really moved seeing the energy of the samurai, who are led by the Polar Tang and Kinemon in the front. Now, Kin is not the captain of the ship. He was not the one to give the order to move on, that was Law. We don't see it happen, but it's a natural logical conclusion; only captains give orders for the ship to charge forward. We need to have it clear in our heads, Law originally wanted to kick out the samurais from his ship and refused to do anything before they get off. But after he gave in and included himself in the revised plan, he wanted to tell Luffy the news. Look at the things from his perspective. Luffy didn't wait, just moved on and tried to make a celebration while they should be moving on immadiately, like samurais say it: time is of essence because Kanjuro is already on the move to report to Orochi! So Law wanted to tell Luffy stuff, but Luffy just wanted to party. Remember Punk Hazard and how taken aback Law was when he asked Luffy to move on quickly and that they don't have time for parties now, but Luffy ignored him? This is payback. Law told samurais to move on and not wait for Luffy, because he got annoyed, both by the fact Luffy didn't wait for him here and also because of the flashback to Punk Hazard. This time, Law pushes his point across, which is: THIS IS NOT THE TIME TO CELEBRATE STRAWHAT-YA.

You can see Luffy's change of mind as meaningful answer to that. This time, he listened and followed Law's lead. LUFFY FOLLOWED LAW'S LEAD. You heard me right.

But that's not all there is to it, there is a lot of subtle subtext going on besides that. In many visual cues like Luffy's mug timed to Oden's footstep, the emphasis on Luffy putting his hat back on while he stares after the submarine, and in all the small reactions each Strawhat shows to Luffy's decision. It's a feast to analyze.

In this visually stunning moment, Kin and Oden are facing opposite directions, but it looks like Oden is charging ahead, encouraging his samurais to follow behind him again. And the last of Oden's stomps turns into Luffy's mug landing on the ground with a loud "don", replacing the sound from the present with the one from the past.

And then Luffy announces to just delay the party for later, after they win and everyone follows through with smiles.

But who started this dynamic exchange? Do the Strawhats know why Luffy called quits here?

Zoro quickly smirks, he would follow Luffy no matter what, but he's also the one who is with Luffy the longest, so he knows thanks to his extraordinary intuition what's in his captain's head.

Sanji is only observing at first, more every detail about Luffy's behaviour than his words. Then Luffy does his "heeheehee" laugh (as opposed to his usual shishishi), which finally makes Sanji crack a little smile that turns into full blown hehehe laugh mirroring Luffy's own when he says the line "after we beat up Kaido". Their interaction here gives off some sharing our very own little secret vibes, ngl. And my guess is that it reflects their reinforced bond from Whole Cake Island.

Quick refresher from WCI situation. Sanji tells Luffy "I didn't tell you to wait..." despite the fact he can't even face him, because he did write in his letter a lie that "he will be back". Luffy laughing again with this "heeheehee" to both Zoro and Sanji, and basically never to anyone else (again, his usual laugh sounds this way: shishishi). Luffy knows the truth in both cases (Sanji's lie and Zoro's worry), but he also did something else amazing in WCI: he mirrored Sanji's own promise with his own one "I will be back", "I made a promise". In both cases, after my analysis, I came to the conclusion that both Luffy and Sanji meant specific people with their promises, but have real trouble admitting it outloud. This laugh became their little secret sign that it's okay, I know what you mean even if you don't say it. And in Wano episode they do it again. What's the secret message this time? It actually didn't change. By laughing and talking about beating Kaido Luffy actually means the person he's beating Kaido for. Momo? Kinemon? You think? Nah, the deal was made before Kin or Momo were even part of the picture. It was because of alliance with Law of course. And yes, I think the animator behind this Wano episode saw the same secret communication I saw as well between Luffy-Sanji-Zoro and this episode is 100% refering to that, lol. Ngl, feels good that someone else picked up on it too.

And then we have Nami, who also seems to understand, braves herself and scolds Luffy (which surprises Usopp, he can tell she's faking it lol). Whether she gets the secret message doesn't matter, though I'm sure if she got it she would think it was to be expected and "very much like Luffy". Usopp can definitely tell something's oddly special about this too (his eyes dart scrutinizing from Nami to Sanji to Zoro, all the people who always "can tell what's up"), but he didn't pinpoint the reason himself yet. He will probably realize it only muuuch much later, but he gathered the pieces for now. Robin is an enigma like always, Chopper is clueless (also like always), Franky probably just doesn't mind (he was the one reminding Luffy to stay undercover in Dressrosa so he can be the responsible one when needed, so why would he mind it here. The reason provided by Luffy was probably 100% enough for him), Brook keeps his thoughts to himself (I'm sure he knows though lol), and Jimbei complies. Tbh the latter has no reason to complain, he *was* extremely late to the raid anyway. But it's very lovely that they ask him to be the one to make the final decision, because the shared drinks was to welcome him! He makes sure to be the first one to follow through with Luffy's gesture and everyone joins in.

Even though they delayed it (kinda indefinitely, curiously enough), this scene makes it look like even just putting the mugs down is already partial celebration, which is pretty wholesome.

And it all ends with this shot, just before the "to be continued" screen, which makes a perfect scene rendition and end of the episode, and also something often being recalled to later on in the anime, even in the endings, suggesting the circle, despite looking complete, seems to be waiting for continuation, just like the "tbc" screen spells it.

From this point on, this post enters the headcanon/speculation territory, so please keep it in mind or skip it if you're not interested! There won't be anything new in the analysis after this, as I'm finishing this post with that.

You know what's great about One Piece's storytelling, right? The parallels. How about we parallel this ending frame to the one from the very beginning of the same episode then? :D It's actually a shot of Onigashima island but we see that also right before the mugs were placed down, so okay, we can see common theme here. So what's the very next scene?

Law looking towards both Onigashima and the torii gate Luffy will ransack later on in this same episode, the very same place they're supposed to celebrate Jimbei joining the crew. The very same celebration Polar Tang with Kinemon in front of it interrupted :) do you see the full picture?

"I want to celebrate it with everyone" says Luffy. Law's name doesn't get mentioned, but he is definitely part of the "everyone". Maybe even a very special part of it, if this little parallel is anything to go by.

I think Luffy is waiting for Law to join the crew, which is why the celebration and the numbered chapter with Jimbei's number is still on hold. Maybe even the numbered chapter will be a joined one (both for Jimbei and Law), just like it was for Usopp and Franky in Water 7. It won't happen in Wano though, not that we know of at least. "But Law has his own crew!!!" Funny you mention that, Jimbei used to be a captain of his own crew of Sun Pirates as well, that didn't stop Luffy nor anyone else from recruiting him. "But he loves Heart Pirates!!" do you suggest Jimbei didn't love Sun Pirates??? "But Law will never serve under Luffy!!" Please, that's never how it worked in Strawhats either. No one is Luffy's subordinate! In fact, I don't think you can find any other crew that is as equal as his. Even Law's own crew has more hierarchy going on. But let's put all those doubts aside, because this is honestly not the place for it.

Let's focus instead on Luffy's decision: that Law is gonna be his crewmate, because That Actually Happened and it's canon. It all started in Punk Hazard, Luffy called alliance with Law as "it's something like being friends!". In Dressrosa, that already grew into "He's my crewmate!" (told to Cavendish to prevent him from trying to harm Law, but we all know Luffy, he would never toss those words like that if he didn't actually believe them himself). And now, in Wano, Luffy looks after Polar Tang and that makes him put his mug away. They're not a complete crew yet, someone is missing and Luffy wants to do it properly. Luffy decided to wait till Law is ready. That's how I see this.

But Law refused him twice already! He said in Dressrosa he's not Luffy's crewmate, he protested in Zou when Luffy declared alliance is friendship! Double refusal! Yeah, he did that, even though second example wasn't about Luffy's friendship in particular that he protested against, just Luffy's definition of the alliance concept (ffs Law they warned you. Usopp and Sanji both warned you! You deserve every single second of this suffering lol). And yes, in Dressrosa he clearly denied, but Luffy also never asked him, just made a declaration on his own. Without a question, there's no refusal that he will take into account. And even if there was a question, Luffy often decides on his own and pursues someone he chose relentlessly. He did it with Nami before (following her to Arlong Park), Zoro, Usopp, Sanji (how many times did Sanji manage to refuse Luffy? it barely fazed the latter), Chopper, Robin (Water 7/Enies Lobby situation), Franky (it was prompted, but still counts), Brook (remember? he also refused Luffy despite initial agreement), and Jimbei (how many arcs did Luffy chase after Jimbei again? since Fishmen Island till Wano, huh). You see the pattern? I gotta say Law fits 100% into it, lol.

This time though, Luffy doesn't ask Law directly himself. Would Law have it in him to blatantly refuse if he was asked directly to join instead of "assumed to be part of the crew"? Seeing how bad Law is at refusing Luffy anything much at all, even a stare or some attention, I'm thinking he would have a really hard time if Luffy put him in such position and Asked The Question To His Face.

Luffy doesn't do it though, not that we know of. Interesting, considering Luffy usually wouldn't hold back and chases after people relentlessly. Maybe he wants Law to be the one to declare it instead of putting him on the spot? He does respect him a crazy amount, after all. But damn, that would be a first time Luffy is holding back so much. Also, everything that happened post Sabaody? Actually happened because of Law's own intiative. He chose Luffy for the alliance, he saved his life in Marineford, he sticked with him in Dressrosa despite his plan getting trampled and stomped on multiple times, his steel resolve to die together with Luffy if he fails is impressive, he also waits for Luffy in Wano and doesn't betray him despite perfect circumenstances for it just before the raid. Law always chooses Luffy. I wouldn't be surprised if Luffy thinks Law will choose him yet again, to finally join him. He also happens to be probably one of the only people in whole OP world who chose Luffy over and over again instead of Luffy actively chasing after him, like he did with each of his current crewmates.

By the end of Wano Luffy will get his "biggest feast". Jimbei stays in the castle though instead of going to the town to celebrate with the rest, so his "joining the crew" drinking party is still postponed and didn't happen then either. He did drink after Egghead with everyone, but seems that's not the "right moment" yet. The anime ending of Egghead still shows the scene with 10 mugs, reminding us we're still waiting for continuation too.

Here's the clip of most of the scene of ditching the mugs, if you prefer it in more dynamic form. Sadly no subs. Please notice the scene rendition of Oden's stomping the ground and it sharing the sound with how Luffy puts down his mug. And how Luffy's singing gets interrupted by Kinemon's apology as Polar Tang presses forward. Kinemon there stands for Law, but Law would not apologize here haha. The same way Kinemon stands for Oden and Oden stands for Luffy, the scene renditions are "passing on" the inherited will forward. And who does Oden follow? Most likely Joyboy, Oden wanted to open the country to welcome him. In this scene multiple characters stand for Joyboy who isn't present himself, but he's everywhere, thanks to the characters following Oden's will. It's later emphasized when Yamato says he's been waiting for Luffy, but the underlined stomping in the scene suggests, yet again, that Yamato was waiting for Joyboy (the same way Oden was) and thought Luffy would be him. It's all in the subtext.

But, the first one to start this "passing on" in the raid, was Law, whether he's aware of it or not doesn't even seem to matter for the gears to turn. He also lifted up samurais in his Polar Tang at the very beginning, rescuing them in similar way to Oden: Law elevates them from the stormy waters, while Oden holds them above the pot in his execution.

Also artistically it's absolutely stunning scene and I just wanted to appreciate it again ❤

This marks the end of this part of the analysis. Will I manage to end Wano in the next one? Not sure tbh haha. Might take two more posts! Sorry for slower pace in updates, but this takes so much more work to do than just copy-pasting manga panels alone, eh. It's still fun though, I hope :)

[dcnatural]

Valentine's At Wayne Manor

Word Count: 1090

Pairing: Dick Grayson x Jason Todd x Tim Drake x Reader

Rating: General Audiences

Synopsis: It's finally time to reveal your relationship to the public. And there's no better occasion than a Valentine's Day Gala.

A/N: Work written for the @macrocest winter bingo, filling the prompt for "valentine's day dance".

A/N: This work is a sequel to Below Wayne Manor and Above Wayne Manor. Unlike the previous parts, this one is non-smutty. Thank you to all the read, liked and/or commented <3

By the time you left your bedroom and made your way into the ballroom, the Wayne Manor Annual Valentine Gala was already in full swing. Like always, your father had spared no expense, and the vast space, with its polished marble floors and towering windows, had been transformed into a fairy tale forest, with twinkling fairy lights, cascading ivy and delicate heart-shaped lanterns swaying gently from the vaulted ceiling. A string quartet played something slow and haunting melody that lingered in the air. Distinguished guests filled the room, their faces adorned with smiles and laughter as they mingled, sipping on their drinks and nibbling on hors d'oeuvres. The manor was always impressive, always immaculate, but tonight, it pulsed with an almost theatrical romance, the kind that Gotham rarely allowed. It was the perfect scenario to announce your relationship.

Standing in the grand staircase, you analyzed the room in search of your brothers, your long dress rustling slightly as you shifted on the heels that Bruce had gifted you for the occasion. Dick, Tim, and Jason huddled together by the bar, their backs to you, engaged in what seemed like a serious conversation.

As if sensing your gaze, Dick turned and met your eyes. He flashed you a grin that made your heart skip a beat, and you could practically feel your cheeks turning pink. With a deep breath, you started descending the staircase, making your way towards your brothers and ignoring anyone who tried to strike up a conversation with you. 

As you got closer, you caught snippets of their conversation.

"...I still think it's a bad idea," Tim was saying, his voice low but tense. "Bruce will kill us."

Jason scoffed. "I died once already, don't worry, it's not that bad."

"He'll get over it," Dick replied, ignoring Jason's joke. "He can't exactly disown his own daughter, can he?"

You reached them just as Dick was about to respond, and he glanced up at you, his smile softening. "There she is," he said, stepping away from the bar to greet you with a hug. "You're looking stunning," he murmured in your ear. 

You blushed even harder at the compliment, smoothing a hand over the deep emerald green fabric of your gown. "Thank you. You look quite dashing yourself."

Dick released you and placed his hand on the small of your back. "Come on," he said, gesturing to Tim and Jason, who joined you, Tim interlocking his arm with yours. Jason rolled his eyes at the gesture, but didn't reject it when Tim offered him his free arm. 

"Let's show Gotham what the family that watches over them is really like," Dick whispered, winking at you, and you couldn't help but feel a thrill of excitement and nervousness.

"Are we actually doing this?" you asked, suddenly rethinking the plan.

Dick leaned down to press a soft kiss to your temple. "Now it's too late to go back, baby."

As the four of you walked through the ballroom, heads turned. Whispers followed your every step. You could see the shock and curiosity on people's faces as they tried to process the sight of you and your brothers together. It was clear that the gossip mill would be working overtime tonight.

Bruce was standing by the fireplace, speaking with Mayor Hill, Selina by his side, when he spotted you. He lifted a brow, eyes flicking over the four of you as the room quieted, Gotham’s elite sensing that something was about to happen. Selina smirked, swirling the champagne in her glass as if she already knew what was coming.

You inhaled sharply, feeling Tim’s grip on your arm tighten slightly in silent support. Jason stood tall, the ever-present mischief in his eyes tempered by something steadier, something protective. Dick, ever the showman, flashed you a quick, reassuring grin before guiding you toward your father.

Bruce's expression remained unreadable as you stopped in front of him, the tension in the room thick enough to cut with a knife.

"Dad," you started, voice steady despite the rapid beating of your heart. "I wanted to take this moment to share something with you. With everyone", you added, head turning slightly to address the room.

Bruce didn't respond immediately, just studied you with that quiet, assessing gaze of his. You had grown up under that look, the way he always saw everything, understood everything before anyone else did. But this… well, this, he hadn't seen coming.

"We are in love," you continued, your voice stronger now. "Dick. Jason. Tim. Me. It's not conventional, it’s not what Gotham expects, but it's real." You forced yourself to hold your father's gaze, determined not to waver. "And I won't hide it just because it might make people uncomfortable."

The silence that followed was deafening. Somewhere in the crowd, a socialite let out an audible gasp. Eyes widened, whispers swelled, the entire room hanging on Bruce Wayne's reaction.

For what seemed an eternity, his gaze moved between the four of you. Then, finally, his expression softened. Not much, but enough. "Are you happy?" he asked, his voice calm, even.

You swallowed, feeling a lump form in your throat. "Yes," you said, meaning it. "I am." 

"Duh", chimed Jason in agreement, at the same time Dick let out a firm "Yes" and Tim nodded eagerly. 

Bruce nodded once, as if that was all he needed to hear. Then, in a move that sent another ripple of shock through the room, he placed a hand on your shoulder. "Then that’s all that matters." The approval in his voice was unmistakable.

The hush in the ballroom broke all at once. Some murmurs scandalized, others intrigued. Selina let out a low, appreciative laugh, raising her glass in your direction. "Now that’s a Valentine’s Day announcement."

Jason let out a breath that was half a scoff, half amusement. "Well, that went better than expected."

Tim, still gripping your arm, muttered, "Bruce is way too calm. This is suspicious."

Dick just grinned, leaning down to whisper in your ear, "Told you he wouldn’t disown us. We know too much," he added with a wink.

You laughed, tension melting away as your father gave you one last approving nod before turning back to his conversation with the mayor, because of course, Bruce Wayne wouldn't let even this derail his business dealings.

The Wayne name would be the talk of Gotham tomorrow. But for tonight, you had nothing to hide. Nothing to regret. You were in love, and for once, the weight of expectations didn't feel so heavy.

[alwritey-aphrodite]

Valentine's Surprise

Part of the Charlie May Universe

Pairing: dad!Peter x mom!Reader

Word Count: 2.6k

Author's Note: here's a cutie little v-day fic with our favorite family <3 I love writing in this AU so let me know if you have any requests for them!!

Managing to surprise Peter always seems impossible. He knows you so well, he’s able to tell when you’re hiding something almost immediately, even if that something is just that you picked up his favorite ice cream without him asking. Factoring Charlie into that equation makes it doubly impossible to pull off a surprise, as she loves being let in on surprises but she hasn’t quite mastered how to keep them. For Valentine’s Day, though, you’re determined to surprise Peter, even though you have your doubts about Charlie’s ability to not spoil that surprise.

It had taken weeks and weeks of planning, everytime Peter left the apartment for even just a few minutes, you flew to your laptop to do research and make shopping lists. You know he’d be just as happy with a cheesy card and carry-out for dinner, but you’re so desperately in love with him, you couldn’t fathom not doing something as over the top as possible. Recruiting Charlie for help had been risky, but as the days tick closer to the fourteenth, your risk seems to be paying off and her lips seem to be sealed.

You can’t remember the last time you’d been so secretive, so dedicated to pulling off a surprise, but it had to have been years ago. Most likely, it was when you were in college, and trying to stop Peter from buying something he wanted because you’d already gotten it for him. Every time he brought it up, you shot him down, going on and on about all the reasons why he shouldn’t buy it, never letting it slip that the main reason was because it was already sitting in your closet in a gift bag. The sight of his face when he opened his gift was more than payment enough for all the furrowed eyebrows and confused frowns the weeks before.

This time, though, time is of the essence. With Valentine’s Day right around the corner, and with the chaos of work and Charlie and all your other commitments, every stolen moment counts.

“Mama,” Charlie sneaks up next to where you’re perched on the couch, all her stealth ruined by her dramatic stage whisper.

“What’s up, Charles?” you reply at the same volume, eyes glued to your screen until you hear her giggles, and you can never resist watching your daughter laugh or smile.

“Don’t we have to go grocery shopping?” She adds emphasis by opening her eyes as wide as possible and raising her eyebrows, looking so much like Peter when he’s trying to get you to understand the hidden meaning of his words you’re a little taken aback.

“Hmm,” you hum, eyes flitting over to the clock to see how long you have until Peter comes home, “you’re right.”

“I’ll get my coat,” and she’s gone before you can ever respond, the sound of her socked feet hitting the floor the only witness to your laughter.

At the store, it’s difficult to get Charlie to stick to your list. On a good day, you can bribe her with cookies or ice cream, but between all the excitement and the various Valentine’s Day themed displays, it’s practically impossible to keep her on task.

“Which one do you think Daddy wants?” You ask while holding up two different packages, trying to get Charlie to refocus.

“We should probably just get both,” she responds after staring intently at the boxes, dangling off the end of the shopping cart. You think it over, and nod, a little amazed at your five-year-old being the voice of reason. Or maybe you’re too easily swayed by her adorable thinking face and the way she carries herself like an adult when she tries to be serious, but either way, you throw both boxes into the cart and move on down your list.

Miraculously, you make it back from the store before Peter returns home, and you only had to agree to buy three different boxes of Valentine’s for Charlie’s classroom party to keep her focused. When Peter does get home, you’re helping Charlie write out all her classmate’s names on the variety of cards, the surprise groceries safely hidden throughout your kitchen.

“Why three boxes?” Peter asks as he inspects the mess that’s consumed your kitchen table, and you’re hoping Charlie is too intently focused on writing her own name to answer before you have time to think of a plausible reason.

“Seemed like a good idea at the time,” is what you settle on, and you know it sounds suspicious, but luckily Peter doesn’t seem to think too hard about it, instead shucking off his coat and making his way around the table to place a kiss on Charlie’s head before coming over to do the same to you.

“May said she’ll babysit Saturday,” he says as he folds himself to sit on your chair with you, half sitting and half squatting in a way that couldn’t be remotely comfortable. You don’t say anything, just scoot yourself closer to the edge so Peter can sit fully on the chair.

“Ugh, are you doing fun things without me?” Charlie places her pink colored pencil on the table to stare you down, a frown already forming on her little face.

“Just cleaning and taxes and boring adult stuff,” Peter reassures her, and even though she squints at you in suspicion, she returns to her Valentine’s.

In truth, you and Peter probably won’t be getting up to anything fancy or exciting. You’ll get slightly more dressed up than normal, go out to dinner and a movie, and then probably be in your pajamas on the couch by ten. Everyone always says your twenties are the best time of your life, the time to go crazy and stay out all night and gather up the stories you’ll be telling for years to come, but that hasn’t been the case for you. You don’t mind it at all, and you wouldn’t trade Charlie for the world, but it’s nice to be able to have a night with just you and Peter, even if all you did was cleaning and taxes and boring adult stuff.

The rest of the evening passes uneventfully, even though you’re so stressed at pulling off your surprise you felt like a water balloon about to burst. The only slip up came around bedtime, after you and Peter had tucked Charlie in and kissed her goodnight.

“See you in the morning,” you said before kissing her once on the forehead and once on the nose. As you stood back up, you saw her attempt to wink at you, even though she really just scrunched up her face and closed her eyes before opening them again.

“Did she just try to wink at you?” Peter whispers once the door to her bedroom is shut, and you just shrug.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but she’s kinda a weird kid.” Luckily for you, Peter just laughs as you make your way to your own bedroom, avoiding the creaky floorboards as you go.

You feel like a kid again, trying over and over to fall asleep but the excitement coursing through your body is making it impossible. As you stare up at the ceiling, trying not to disturb Peter with all your tossing and turning, you wonder how lame you’ve become, that the thought of surprising Peter makes you so jittery and excited you can’t even sleep. Really, you’ve always been lame when it comes to Peter, over the moon to do even the smallest of tasks with him by your side. When you finally manage to drift off, it’s by watching the steady rise and fall of Peter’s chest as he sleeps.

It seems like you’d just managed to fall asleep when your alarm goes off, much earlier than it typically does. Miraculously, you manage to shut it off before Peter wakes up, leaving you with the task of trying to crawl out of bed and out of your room without waking him. You’re moving so slowly, so carefully, it feels a little cartoonish, but you don’t have time to feel silly when you’re racing against the clock. Peter stirs as you turn the doorknob, but he settles again as you ease the door open and close it behind you, as gently as possible.

Avoiding all the floorboards you know will send creaks reverberating throughout the apartment, you practically tiptoe to Charlie’s room, and are shocked to find her already awake when you ease the door open.

“How long have you been up?” You speak quietly, closing the door behind you.

“Dunno,” Charlie shrugs before swinging her legs over the edge of her bed and hopping down, “I was too excited to sleep really.” It’s precious, really, the fact that she was so excited at the idea of surprising her dad with breakfast that she couldn’t sleep, but her wild hair and rumpled pajamas tell a different story. Either way, you hoist her onto your hip and make your way into the kitchen, flicking on the lights and taking a second to blink against the brightness before making your way to the counter to set Charlie down.

“We’ll put the sausage and bacon in the oven first, and then we’ll do the pancakes, ok?”

“And I get to mix?” Charlie asks, her little legs swinging back and forth.

“Of course you do.”

For the most part, Charlie just sits on the counter while you lay out the bacon and sausage on a tray, babbling about her Valentine’s Day party in her class and how she hopes she gets lots and lots of candy, barely stopping to breathe. Once the tray is in the oven, you add all the pancake ingredients to a bowl and hold Charlie around the waist while she mixes, making sure everything is thoroughly combined to avoid any clumps of flour in the batter, a mistake you don’t want to make twice.

When the time comes to actually make the pancakes, you set Charlie up at the kitchen table with crayons and construction paper to make Peter a card, keeping her occupied and safely away from the burners. Miraculously, the timing for everything works out perfectly, and Charlie scribbles her name on the inside of the card just as you take the last pancake from the stove, placing it onto a plate as you hear your bedroom door creak open and Peter pads down the hallway towards the kitchen.

“What’s all this?” He asks, voice still scratchy from sleep, as he takes in the view of the kitchen from the doorway.

“Your surprise!” Charlie tells him, sitting up onto her knees and extending the card above her head. In a split second Peter is by her side, a gentle hand on her waist to keep her from tipping over, even as he plucks the card from her little hands. While he’s distracted with whatever masterpiece Charlie created, you work on making everyone’s plates, cutting up Charlie’s food into bite-sized pieces.

“Eat before it gets cold,” you instruct, anxious for Peter to try the food and see if all your research paid off. Sitting around your little kitchen table, you cut up your own food while trying not to make it obvious that you’re waiting for Peter’s reaction.

“How did you do that?” He asks after the first few bites, setting his fork down to the side and shifting in his chair to face you fully.

All of your research had been dedicated to finding the exact recipes from the diner you and Peter had gone to during college, right when you’d started going out. Many late night meals were shared under their fluorescent lighting, but they’d closed down shortly after you’d graduated. It was a little silly, but you missed that food, even though it came from a greasy kitchen and was eaten in a fading vinyl booth, it always made you feel at home, although that feeling could be attributed to your company instead. Still, you were dedicated to recreating the recipes for Peter, the perfect surprise for Valentine’s Day.

“Research,” you shrug even as you grin, laughter escaping from your chest when Peter leans across the table to kiss you, much to Charlie’s disgust.

The rest of the day passes uneventfully, with the remainder of the morning spent bundling Charlie and her variety of Valentine’s Day cards off to school and the afternoon spent with you and Peter trying and failing to surprise each other with flowers and candy. After Charlie got back from school and spent an hour excitedly showing you and Peter all of the Valentine’s she received from her classmates, you leave to run some errands, desperately trying to avoid any late fees on overdue library books.

When you return home, it’s to a variety of whispering and shushing coming from the kitchen.

“Hello?” You call out, a smile growing when you hear Charlie’s failed attempts to stifle her giggles. As you set down your bag full of new library books and slip off your coat, your daughter runs around the corner, sliding into your legs as she slips on her socks.

“You can’t go in there,” she says as she looks up at you, the picture of complete seriousness.

“Why not?” You ask, playing into her game and matching her tone.

“It’s really bad,” she tries not to laugh, but then Peter yells from the kitchen.

“Charles, that’s not what I said!” He sticks his head around the corner as you try and regain your composure, “You just have to wait a second.”

Peter shakes his head as he disappears around the corner again, you and Charlie struggling to stay upright as you laugh. After a few minutes, Peter yells out again, signaling for Charlie to bring you into the kitchen.

“Mama, you have to close your eyes,” Charlie tells you, her seriousness coming back in full force as she grabs your hands. You do as you're told, squeezing your eyes shut and trusting Charlie to transport you safely to the kitchen, trying your best not to be led into any furniture.

“Ok, open!” She yells out after you come to stop, and you open your eyes slowly, taking in the transformed kitchen.

The harsh overhead lights are off, replaced with candles and Christmas lights strung across the windows. There are flowers in the center of the table, different from the ones Peter had given you earlier, and the rest of the table is covered in serving dishes and plates. It’s breathtaking, the sheer amount of time and effort that went into planning this meal for you, let alone the aspect of surprise.

“I don’t think we’ll be able to eat all this,” is all you can manage, trying to keep the tears at bay. Peter has always made you feel special, made you feel seen, in ways you’ve never experienced before.

“That cooking took a lot of energy, I think we can manage,” Peter teases, just to get you to smile and shake your head at him like you’re exasperated and not bursting at the seams with love and affection.

“How long have you been in on this?” You ask your daughter after Peter passed the food around, half of her dinner already spread across her face and hands.

“Dunno,” she shrugs, making a face like she’s trying not to laugh. Out of the three of you, Charlie is clearly the mastermind, managing to surprise both of her parents without giving even a hint of what she knows.

Most of the evening is spent gathered around the table, the three of you going back for seconds and thirds as the candles burn lower and lower and the city skyline sinks into darkness. As excited as you are for a child-free date night tomorrow, you’d happily relive this moment over and over again, safe and happy and full, surrounded by your two favorite people and endless amounts of love and laughter.