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cheralith · 1 day ago

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my serendipity ₊˚⊹♡

— promise yourself to him, and he'll love you forever tenfold. or... the blue lock boys and their proposals to you.

starring ; isagi yoichi, bachira meguru, itoshi rin, shidou ryusei, michael kaiser content warnings ; gn!reader, reader wears a skirt (bachira), cursing (shidou/kaiser), reader wears a dress and heels (kaiser), lowk ooc shidou, mildly ooc kaiser, not fully edited as of 02/15 a/n ; happy late valentine's day everyone and a happy birthday to me hehe! i hope i'm not late by a mere day, but this is both my valentine's day event and my birthday gift from me to you all, so i hope that alongside this, you're surrounded by nothing but tender loving care amidst the season of love ( •◡-)-♡! there's also a collection of some of my favorite love songs i've added under each of the names that i think fit them/their scene, so take a listen for a more immersive experience, so enjoy!

— love, isagi yoichi.

The freshness of the meadow's air was an atmosphere you think you can breathe in forever, for it was so much more pristine and clear than the air you were used to in the city. The setting sun overviews the seaside town that you and your boyfriend took the pleasure of visiting as a treat for you both since he was currently off season and you decided to make the most out of what you could do. It was a scene straight out of a painting, you think to yourself, as yellows and oranges paint the sky overhead, a sliver of iris beginning to take over as twilight sets.

The little town below you hustles and bustles about, its townspeople fluttering over to wrap up the seemingly mundane day. You're a little envious that they get to see such a beautiful sight like this everyday and get to breathe in fresh air without the mayhem of cars and salarymen scattering themselves. Closing your eyes, you take in the cooling spring air of the meadow, letting yourself linger amidst the peaceful atmosphere of the countryside.

You'll miss this. The peace and placidity of a place like this. You dream of retiring to a cottage somewhere similar to here, somewhere where the grass is greener and the sky is bluer. You think it'd do you some good.

"I think some wine would pair well with your daydreaming," a voice says playfully.

Opening your eyes, you see your companion holding a bottle of wine in his hands, gentle eyes softening at your serenity. Yoichi is glad he brought you here, knowing that you needed a break from city life to just simply get away to the tranquility of the countryside. The change in you was more than evident—the stiffness in your body was long gone upon arrival and you were much more laxed when it came to last minute changes on the itinerary. It was rare he saw this side of you, so he savored it with every moment he was able to get.

Smiling gently at your boyfriend, you nod and let him pour two glasses of white wine into the glasses you and him had brought for this picnic.

"How're the sandwiches?" Yoichi asks, handing you your glass. "I bought them at this local diner nearby the hotel, so I hope they're okay."

"I really was never much of a bologna fan until now," you say as you pick up your half-eaten sandwich and hold it out for him to take a nibble. "It's a little salty, but I like it."

"I'm glad," he affirms through chews before he hums in approval. "Did you try the charcuterie board yet? This place is known for their cheeses."

You shake your head. Yoichi grins and eagerly begins to throw together a cheese-and-cracker creation, topped off with a bit of crumbled nuts. He gently cups his hand underneath the one holding the stack and motions for you to come forward.

Biting gently and letting his hand catch the crumbs, you giggle when you thoughtfully chew on the combinations as Yoichi throws the extra crumbs in his mouth to not let anything go to waste.

"Hey! This was pricey," he claims, "I'm sure half a cracker cost one hundred yen each..."

You fight the urge to spit out your food at his exaggeration. Yoichi may be a world class soccer player, with the mere mention of his name lighting peoples' faces with pride as the ace of one of Japan's soccer teams, but despite his hefty salary, there was still that semi-frugal middle class boy who still debated in buying a yogurt drink or ice cream whenever you and him stopped by a convenience store—never mind the fact that he could buy fifty of each in one sitting.

His humbleness, however, is what made you so drawn to him in the first place. He knew, you knew, and everyone knew of his great skill and play on the field, but in interviews, he was always one to scratch his neck and say "I just did what I could, really..." post-games. Yoichi never let the fame get to his head, and his ability to stay so grounded to earth made you filled with love solely for him and him alone.

The mix of the sweetness of the cheese and the saltiness of the cracker blend beautifully together on your tongue. You mimic his actions from before and give a hum and nod with approval at your boyfriend's taste.

There's a few other assortments of food that you and him have collected prior to the picnic—some fresh fruit you had bought and cut from the farmer's market, a small pasta bowl made by Yoichi himself, little quiches you had grabbed from one of the bakeries, and a strange white box that peeks itself out of the picnic basket that you have yet to open that was brought by Yoichi.

Gently clinking your glasses together, the wine that goes down your throat feels just as mellow as the atmosphere that hugs you and your boyfriend. Everything feels just so perfect right now, you could bathe yourself in such contentment.

Some conversations float by between you and Yoichi, breezy and effortless for sometime as the sun slowly sets itself into the mountains. Talks about work, about his recent plays (you laugh out loud whenever his anger gets the best of him and a short fuse of cusses spit out from him when he talks about specific players' plays, throwing a stray at one of his teammates), about the latest gossips, everything that just comes naturally to you. There was no need for a filter whenever Yoichi was with you. His judgement barely shone through when you were around.

He finishes the last of his wine rather quickly. Yoichi places it down gently and grabs your hands in his own. "I have a surprise for you."

A brow raises as your lips curl. "Oh?"

"Wait here, yeah?" Yoichi asks as grabs the picnic basket and places it in front of you. "I have to go grab something from the car. Why don't you prepare the cake in the meantime, hm? Maybe do some cleanup with the food, too, since it's getting late."

"Oh so that's what's inside the box," you murmur.

"Uh huh, I had it specially made for us," he says with a pinch of excitement in his voice. Yoichi gathers up a few of the plates and juts them in your hands, a wobbly smile upon his face as he gets up and dusts himself off, beginning to jog off in the direction of the parking lot. "I'll be right back!"

You blink at his hastiness, a little out of character for him, but shrug as you return back to your original position facing the coastal town and sunset. You're glad he tasked you with cleaning up the leftovers, since you've grown accustomed to Yoichi's occasional messiness and clumsiness when it came to handling food. There was one time during a friend's dinner party that he dropped the pot roast in front of everyone, meat going everywhere to Bachira's delight and to Barou's disdain. You also grow a little weary whenever he's around ceramic, since he's broken quite a few bowls and plates without much effort since Yoichi doesn't seem to have a grasp of his own strength whenever he washes the dishes.

You shake your head at the memories, quietly laughing to yourself when you remember Barou forcing him to mop his apartment floor from the remnants of the meat as a punishment. Barou still invites you over to his house during group events, but you often have to plead with him to invite your boyfriend, now used to the pulled face he makes or the curse of "Is the donkey really necessary to bring?" through the phone.

Tenderly, you open the picnic basket and carefully take out the white cake box to put it on the blanket. You go to prepare two plates together for the cake and take the cake cutter out of the basket, ready for slicing. Your fingers gently tug at the delicate silk ribbon right before you open the lid.

Your heart skips a beat.

It's a simple white vanilla cake shaped into a heart. Its framed with pale pink frosting on its side, as well as a couple of chocolate-covered strawberries placed in some places of the framing. But it's not the design of the cake that captures you.

It's what's written on it.

Four words written in delicate cursive so clearly and distinctly that it's hard to miss.

Will you marry me?

Your breath hitches as you read it with glazed eyes, your head whipping around to call Yoichi over, thinking perhaps he grabbed the wrong cake by accident from the cake shop, but your doubts suddenly dissipate when you're faced with Yoichi on one knee before you...

... with a velvet box in hand, a glimmering ring ready for you tucked carefully within it.

Words falter, and you can only stare at him in astonishment as he smiles at you, his lips still a little crooked in apprehension.

He bites his lip, grin growing a little wider as tears brim your eyes.

"Well?"

— with all my heart, bachira meguru.

"Meguru, that's cheating!"

"Since when where there rules to tag?!"

You huff in annoyance as your boyfriend hops off the railing of the staircase he just slid down from as his hand grazed your back to indicate you were "it" again.

You can feel some of the stares of the security guards that were left to babysit you and him as you dash your way down the staircase to chase after your boyfriend through the empty halls of the museum he had cleared out for you and him this evening. That's one of the many pros of being a professional soccer player—that anything can be bent at someone's will with a mere slide of stacks of cash. And Meguru had decided to use his own gain to entertain you and him.

By playing a game of tag between the two of you in amidst the massive art museum.

He claimed it was the perfect foundation for it; pillars to hide behind, a maze of rooms to obscure the tail that one may have on another, wide halls to run around in. For Bachira Meguru, this was the perfect battleground besides the turf of a soccer field. You suppose it also came from his early love of art due to his mother being a painter, with some of her collections even being shown for the season in one of the halls.

Anyone else of your ages would think such an activity was foolish. To an extent, yes, they were right. You and Meguru were both adults with adult responsibilities and adult lives... but you only live once and you and him lived by the philosophy to live it to the fullest. Childish whimsies came more often to you and your boyfriend, and that was the gravitational pull that drew you and him together to blossom a relationship filled with surprises and spontaneity. You felt unbelievably alive with him.

He'd call you in the middle of the night, asking you if you want to skinny dip in the nearby beach with him. He'd stop the car in the middle of a busy road as the view of an amusement park came closer, snatching your arm and tugging you out of it to run to its entrance. He'd show up at your door with concert tickets in hand unprompted, jutting one in your hand and telling you to get ready.

Bachira Meguru was a lightening bolt, sparking energy everywhere unsolicited. And you were more than happy to be struck over again and again if it meant you felt alive.

So now you're here. It's near midnight, and you're sure you and him have scattered almost all the interior terrain of the museum he cleared out in your game of tag that he brought up to you yesterday evening out of nowhere, telling you to dress nice, but to wear running shoes.

Meguru poked his head out from behind a wall that lead to the other room, giggling as you whip your head a few times to catch where he went before you spot his bright canary yellow eyes and run after him.

You weave through the plethora of statues that sprinkle about the corridor, sprinting after the flash of brown and yellow hair in front of you. It shouldn't be fair that you're currently chasing down a professional soccer player who clearly has the upper hand, but in all honesty, you think the challenge makes it all the more fun.

Stopping to catch your breath, you hunch down for a bit, gathering your skirt in your hands to reveal the worn-out running shoes you wear that contrast heavily to the outfit you're wearing as you collect your energy.

"Don't tell me you're tired already," Meguru sings out, his voice rather close.

You lift your head up to see your boyfriend standing just a few meters in front of you, leaning on a pillar of a statue with a cocky smile, arms crossed as if this was the easiest thing in the world. There wasn't even a sheen of sweat on his forehead, unlike your misted one. Your chest heaves for a few moments, and he watches anticipatingly as you collect yourself before you take a swipe at him.

Meguru jumps back just in time, laughter ringing out as you gather up your speed and sprint. You manage to turn a corner that's shared with the hallway he had just turned on and take a shortcut, waiting behind the open wall before you jump out and tap his shoulder.

"Gotcha," you grin as he gasps in delight and looks back at you, mischief ever so clear in his face.

You attempt to muffle your many fits of giggles when you come up with a plan to try and escape him. There's two choices that unfold before you—either you can run up the flight of stairs into the Greek artifacts or you can enter into the inner garden.

With not much time left, you can hear his quickening footsteps growing louder and louder, and you go for the latter.

Your feet carry you into the dark garden, making you squint your eyes to get a proper view of where you're going, but you see a sheen of light the closer you get to the center of it. Deciding that might be where the common area is, you quickly dart towards it but gasp when the entirety of it comes into full view.

Candles light up the middle area of the garden with rose petals sprinkled about the ground. A large balloon arch of white and gold arcs over what seems to be small semi-circle of little flower bouquets with a small white rug placed delicately in the middle of it all. There's two words that spell themselves out in blocky letter lights.

MARRY ME?

It takes you awhile to register the scene before you, your heart thrumming faster and faster each time you scan it.

"Aw man, you found it too early..." Meguru's voice sulks from behind you.

Whipping your head around, you yelp at your boyfriend's sudden appearance, making him grin. You think you need to take a pause from all the excitement you've been absorbed in for the past few hours, a new one being blossomed at this very moment.

There truly was never a dull moment with Bachira Meguru.

Wordlessly, his smile turns less playful and more tender when you can't find the words to say. He takes your hand in his own grasp and gently leads you to the scene before you, getting down on one knee and pulling out a small box from his back pocket.

"(L/N) (Y/N)," Meguru starts slowly, his voice displaying the utmost sincerety he's able to muster and possibly the most serious you've ever seen him. "Will you do me the honor of marrying me and being with me for the rest of our lives?"

With someone as special and as enigmatic as Meguru, it really doesn't take you much debating to choose your answer. Someone like this only comes once in a lifetime, and you decide to cherish it as much as you can in this one.

You only live once after all.

You nod, whispering a "Yes..."

Meguru's smile stretches wide before he shouts out in happiness, jumping in the air. You laugh loudly at his antics before he plucks out the ring and puts it on your finger, letting you admire it before sharing a loving kiss. The security guards that oversee the garden let out claps of celebration and a couple of shouts of approval, making you and him laugh at the accidental audience.

Meguru goes to wipe away a fallen tear from your cheek before kissing your forehead gently. He suddenly goes near your ear and whispers,

"This still means you're 'it', by the way."

— sincerely yours, itoshi rin.

Rin always thought he was meant to be alone.

His own parents tended more of their attention to Sae, and Sae himself left Rin to his own devices when Rin was only eleven, just barely hatching into puberty. Much of life Rin had to learn the harder way, where he had no forewarnings from anyone and he had to be taught his own lessons. It was his own self-discipline that got him through much of his younger years that made him so sustainable solely by his own foundations.

Even during games, he tended to lean on his own instincts on what he thought was best rather than relying on his teammates for the best play possible. If it were legible, Rin would've taken an opportunity to play 1v11 in a match since he carried the majority of his teams anyway with his prodigal skills.

He thrived best in an isolated environment anyway. And Rin felt okay with it. No person is forever anyways, not even his own blood.

Until you came along.

It was in his second year during college. It was you and your stupid owl keychain on your stupid backpack that accidentally let out your stupid second volume of Ciguatera right in front of him. It was the stupid way how his hands lingered on the book just a little more than he should've. It was the stupid way that his eyes always gravitated to you during lectures. It was the stupid way that you and him were assigned as partners for a project. It was the stupid way your eyes lit up when you found out he played soccer.

It was the stupid way he felt able to breathe the air much more comfortable around you the more he spent time with you. It was the stupid way the days felt duller when he didn't see you on campus. It was the stupid way his heart fluttered when you laughed, when you smiled, when you said his name.

It was all so... stupid.

A feeling he never felt before had been born from your existence. Itoshi Rin usually had a pretty solid grasp on things he could control, but he didn't know how to handle such a feeling of affection because he hadn't ever felt it before, and it felt too slippery to try and get a firm grip of. You shook his core, and Rin hated it because only one other person in his life was able to do such a thing.

Learning it was best to do so after his last lesson to keep himself safe, he attempted to push you away before his heart broke a second time. Yet somehow, Rin felt more drawn to your pull every time he tried to create space between you and him.

They say that distance makes the heart grow fonder. Rin never really gave the feeling such thought in regards to you until he found himself dismal and in a grey area again without seeing your face at least once, but still ever so stubborn, he thought this was best. This is what he was used to—being alone.

"I don't have time for you anymore," he said to you one evening as he dropped you off at your dorm.

You had turned back to him with the saddest eyes he'd ever seen, but with a small smile still on your face. Without asking for a reason, you merely nodded. "I see. Well... goodbye then."

Rin tried to ignore the way his heart had clenched so tightly as he watched you disappear into your dorm hall without glancing back at him one more time.

But the lines blurred. It wasn't him being alone that he reclused himself to during your absence from his life... but rather loneliness. He was back to being lonely, not alone.

He had to go back to watching movies by himself, conversing with his own thoughts instead of another voice. He had to go back to eating meals by himself without having a foot nudge his own under a table. He had to go back and stop looking for a specific pair of bright eyes and a wishful smile in the stands during games.

He went back to a world of grey of his doing. All because he was terrified to let another person handle his own heart. And he was doing a good job at altering his life back to the way it was, until you did what you usually did best and butt in and splash color all over his monochromatic canvas again.

It was before an away game, in the common-area just before he boarded the coach bus. There, just before you turned the corner, he spotted you saying goodbye to someone, where you had accidentally made eye contact with turquoise eyes that seemed to shine for the first time in a long time at your appearance before him. He couldn't stop himself from staring, feeling relieved that you were still within his radius despite him being the one to create space.

You lingered there for a moment, before swallowing and mouthing to him with that stupid gentle, forgiving smile of yours,

"Good luck. Do well."

Rin sprinted off the bus the moment they were back on campus after winning by a landslide due to his off-the-wall playing. His feet carried him to your dorm, where he rapidly knocked on your door despite it being near midnight. You opened the door to him and despite hating it when people touched him, Rin had held you so tightly with hitched breaths, whispering "I'm sorry..." over and over again into your ear.

And came Itoshi Rin's first love, blossomed on a random Friday night.

His only love at that. He can't imagine the ring in his pocket being for anyone else.

A couple years older now, he walks alongside you on the beach that he used to ponder about whatnot on as he listens to you talk about the latest gossip at work. This is the rhythm of how your dynamic usually works—you talk, Rin listens. He likes it that way. It's an adequate balance.

The air is cooling now, now that autumn is approaching. You're huddled in a light jacket (Rin's, respectively), and gently warm your hands by rubbing them together to let the created friction emit some heat. Rin wordlessly grabs your hands and cups them together, embellishing a better warmth from his own breath instead of letting you do your own work.

Your eyes soften as you let him do his own antics, his own gaze coming to meet yours as his hands envelope yours and clasps them tightly to keep the heat trapped in your skin.

"Is that better?" he asks quietly, eyes looking for any sign of your approval.

You nod contently. "Mm hm."

"I told you to dress warm," he says, sighing, "next time, bring gloves."

You know Rin long enough to know such a tone of phrase isn't necessarily scolding you, but rather cautioning you out of genuine care. It wasn't his fault his voice had a natural cutting-edge tone, but you've grown accustomed to the little bits of adjustments he does to indicate he's not being cold.

The soft sand feels more pliable than usual. Perhaps it was the heavier layers you wear, but you find yourself sinking into it more easily. Rin helps stabilize you by gripping your hand in his own, noticing your imbalance.

"It's just a little further," he murmurs softly, a little shy when he squeezes your hand in his jacket pocket.

He was never able to quite fully get over his fluster around you. You made his head fill with cotton, his heart pound a little harder, whenever you were within his vicinity. Even after six years of being together as an official couple, he never was able to fully get over that high school crush feeling. Maybe that's a good thing, though. Maybe it was meant to be that way. It was probably life's way of telling him that you were made to last for him, as only you were able to emit such a feeling for him when no one else could.

They say the average relationship lasts two years and three months. Yet somehow, Rin has never gotten over the feeling of falling in love with you since the moment he spotted you for the first time during a home game. It's been six years and ten months since that incident, and he figures that if such a feeling hasn't expired yet, it might never will.

The trail of candles suddenly appear before you to your surprise. The sand trail that it frames is the only part of the beach that is untouched by feet, as though it was waiting for you to imprint on it. On the other side of the trail lies a half-circular structure of individual white roses, all standing up right from the sand, along with blanket and a basket of wine and chocolates.

"Oh my," you mumble quietly, clearly taken aback at the rather romantic scene. While your boyfriend always did the most when it came to your dates, this was another level of sentimental. Be it the isolation from other people on the beach or the sunset horizon in the background, you feel a wave of solitude when Rin trails you down the path.

"This is rather new," you say to him suddenly, your eyes wide with worry. "Um, I didn't forget something big, did I? We celebrated your birthday... our anniversary isn't for another month..." you count down all the possible major events that you and Rin celebrated together as a couple on your fingers, but Rin shakes his head.

"No," he interjects. "This... i-is something completely different."

You blink owlishly and tilt your head, leaning your face closer to examine your boyfriend's blushed cheeks.

"Oh, are you proposing?" you ask inquisitively with a sparking coy smile, as if it was the plainest thing in the world.

Rin tends to be rather flat with his emotions, but he can't help but gawk when you guess correctly. He supposes his reaction gives his plans away, since you burst out laughing when a choked noise comes out of his throat.

"So I'm correct?" you ask through giggles.

"How'd you know?!" Rin asks, his blush now spreading rapidly on his face, the back of his neck absolutely burning with heat. Upset that all the plans he kept repeating to himself for the entire last three days was suddenly disrupted by you picking up context clues, he feels his ego crumbling before you, going back to square one where he'd feel that familiar flutter in his chest.

"Meguru told me a week ago when we all went to that one bar," you mention. "He had a little too much to drink and ended up accidentally spilling the beans."

A vein pops on Rin's forehead with avid irritation, jaw gritting as the phantom of a familiar bob-cut throws a peace sign in his mind. This is what's bound to happen when Rin asks for help on a major life event from the one person that can't keep his mouth shut even with a gun to his temple. But Bachira was the only person in the friend group that had been married so far to who was essentially his twin flame, meaning he was ultimately the last resort.

Rin thinks that he should've just asked someone on the street instead, now that it's clear his decision went awry.

Stupid shitty, fucking lukewarm bob-cut... Rin curses in his mind, a fire burning behind his eyes. Next time I see him, I'll—

"My answer is 'yes', by the way, Rin."

Rin's violent daydreams are suddenly broken when your voice cuts through. Your sweet, supple voice that's able to calm him down just by the sound of his name falling from his lips. Your superpower, he thinks.

He suddenly loosens his fist that he was making in his hand and looks at you. Clear, smiling eyes gaze at his wide ones with affirmation so distinctly held within them. All the tension he had been feeling up until this very moment instantaneously dissolves, running through his now-loosened fist like sand from the beach you and him are posted on.

He wants to grab your face and kiss you with as much strength he can muster. Wants to whisper sweet nothings and loving promises into lips he's tasted over and over again, yet just can't get enough of. Wants to hold you so tightly in his arms to the point where you meld into each other.

But, nevertheless, he holds himself back. There's still something he has to do.

"At least let me say the damn thing first," he mutters and finally gets down on one knee, his gaze never faltering against yours.

You giggle, nodding and letting him take one of your hands as his unoccupied one goes to fetch the ring box from his back pocket.

Rin was, and still is, not a man of many words. He says what he needs to say the moment he needs to say them. He feels as though he can't waste his time on incessant words, but this time, he feels as though four words can carry all the meaning he needs to convey.

He swallows thickly, presenting a luscious, glimmering ring at you, noticing the way your eyes become hypnotized with the specialized gem settled in the middle of the band.

"(Y/N)," Rin states, smoothing over your precious ring finger. "Will you marry me?

— forever yours, shidou ryusei.

"Ryu, you're gonna get another ticket!" you yell out through the helmet as the motorcycle's speedometer's needle rapidly ticks up. Your arms wrap securely around his waist as he laughs off your concern, his grip on the handles tightening when he squeezes the throttle grip.

You know Ryusei loves to live life to its fullest—its the core of his way of living life. He's irrational and explosive, impulsive and eccentric. Anything that makes him tick is what captures his full attention.

Unfortunately for you, your complete opposite behaviors is uniquely what made him so magnetized by you. Unlike Ryusei, who tends to stand out wildly in a crowd, be it his unconventional haircut or his obnoxious thoughts that he just can't keep to himself, you're demure and quiet. You keep to yourself at all times and you think that you're quite plain-looking. You don't sport wild hair or scattered piercings, nor do you remove your filter and say what you want to say, so you don't understand how someone like you have a spotlight in Ryusei's mind.

But you do, somehow. And you don't think that he's too intent on shifting it to anyone else soon.

So now you're here. It's eleven at night with an near-empty highway before you, backpacking your boyfriend that your parents heavily disapprove of in the middle of the night because he snatched you up from your apartment and told you to follow him. He tossed you his spare helmet for his motorcycle and off you and him drove into the night.

You should've known better, you really should've, considering it was Ryusei after all that you were dealing with. He'll do anything that his mind tells him to without thinking of the consequences. You can't think of another person in the world who has little to no judgement about his actions.

"Don't worry 'bout it, dolly!" he guffaws from his helmet. He lurches forward and you squeal when the motorcycle's speed suddenly jumps. "You know I'd never hurt ya!"

You very much want to protest against his claim, considering he's forced you to tag along with extreme experiences that have put you scraping at Death's door, but every time, Ryusei always tugs you back to reality, to him. Because your his before anyone else's, even the Reaper himself.

"Where are we even going?!" you ask out loud, trying to leer over his shoulder for any sort of familiar direction. To no avail, you're only met with the empty road of the highway, only lit by the streetlights. "I have a meeting really early tomorrow!"

"Fuck your meeting!" Ryusei hollers, giving another one of those joker-like laughs. "Fuck your job in general, but fuck your meeting specifically!"

You know Ryusei's hatred for your corporate job. Blame it on him hating the mundane or how you rant to him about your trashy bosses, he keeps telling you to ditch the position over and over again, even asking you if you quit every time you bring it up. You know that it's just him trying to be a good boyfriend, but when you try to bring up the fact that the job market for your skills is trash, he only shrugs and just tells you why even bother with working. His salary as a soccer player is more than enough to cover you and him.

"That doesn't answer my question!" you shout back through the loud roaring of the motorcycle's engine. "Where are we going?!"

"You'll see! You need to trust me!" he yells from over his shoulder. You can see those rows of menacing pearly whites from the shaded visor and your stomach stirs a little. From excitement or anxiety, that was up to fate to decide. You've placed your trust in Ryusei's hands a plethora of time and you still haven't gotten a good grasp of its pattern of consequences.

You merely sigh in defeat, placing your chin on his shoulder and placing your whims at his hands, letting him take reign of your late-night journey.

From a desolate parking lot, he introduces you to a lone hill, where a wooden staircase at the bottom of it waits for you and him to carry you to the top of it. It's rather a rough journey, with you counting a total of eleven flights of stairs that you have to take up in the dead of night where you were wringed out of all the energy you had from the day. Ryusei wastes no time, leaping through the first three with no problem. He waits for you as you heave through them at your own pace, your legs already starting to turn numb.

"Took you long enough," Ryusei remarks, not even waiting for a reply from you before he begins to climb another three.

By the time you've reached the sixth flight, he's already done with all of them to your discontent. He calls for you to hurry up from atop the stairs and you flicker back a frustrated middle finger back at him, to which he only answers back with an obnoxious laugh.

"Oop, watch your step, doll," he cautions as he catches you last minute before you face-plant on the floor when you trip on your last stair, your legs shaky from the exhaustion. "What took you so long?" he asks tauntingly.

You shove him off of you, deciding it was better to lean on a tree. "Screw you..."

"Mmh, you can do that later, if you'd like," he murmurs flirtatiously in your ear, laughing viciously as you swat at him. He lets you catch your breath before tugging at your sleeve and telling you to hurry. "Your surprise is waiting, c'mon."

Leave it to Shidou Ryusei to plan something spontaneous in the dead of the night. It was unfortunately very like him to do something as erratic as this, and you just hope whatever he has in store doesn't involve you facing a near-death experience like the one time he brought you bungee-jumping straight after work.

Yawning, you nod and follow him with fatigued limbs. It takes your tired eyes a little while to adjust to what Ryusei is pointing at, but the heaviness disappears the moment you understand why he brought you here so late.

The hill somehow overviews nearly all of the city and the lights it gleams out into the night. Your breath catches itself in your throat as you take in the glorious sight of the stars in the sky and the array of lights that dance about the city's skyline. The taller skyscrapers in the background loom over the rest of the city like guardians and the cars of the cars make them look like little fairies dancing about.

It's a gorgeous view that you knew you would've never seen if it weren't for the interference in your normally-mundane life that is Shidou Ryusei.

A pair of arms goes to wrap themselves around your waist and bring you closer to a chest. Ryusei settles himself nicely in the divot between your shoulder and neck, inhaling a bit of your leftover perfume. "You like?"

You nod, eyes taking in the breathtaking view in full depth, scanning every inch that your field of vision lets you see. "Yes," you breathe.

"Good," he mutters, "Discovered this place randomly a few weeks ago after a post-celebration. I thought you might like it."

"It's gorgeous, Ryu," you warmly whisper, your heart melting a little at his consideration.

In any frontal aspect, no one would expect the Shidou Ryusei to be in a relationship, let alone be good at handling one. But after being with him for quite awhile, with your third anniversary coming up soon, you found a side to him that would be deemed almost unnatural to the unsuspecting eye. Underneath those layers of brashness, you were able to find a softer side of him, one that'd only be revealed to you and you alone.

Sure, there were times when his usual image would shine through when you were with him, most prominent when there were others around that were eyeing you ("Take a look this way and I'll bust your head in, bud!" he had shouted with a wicked smile to a passerby one time that looked at you with just the slightest bit too much of intent), but behind closed doors, a tenderness revealed itself dedicated for you.

Because in all honesty—Ryusei was a good boyfriend. Audacious and obnoxious, sure, but good. There was a reason why your relationship has lasted this long, after all. He'd come at your beck and call when you needed him most with no questions asked. He'd offer you advice whenever you complained about something, knowing that you didn't really care about sympathy. He always remembered important dates, even the miniscule ones like what date the new season of your favorite show released just so he can watch it with you.

That layer that only you got to see was the prime reason as to why you returned his affection in equal fervor.

You begin to feel his lips peppering a small path up the side of the neck, letting out a brief yelp when you feel his sharp teeth graze the lobe of your ear. You can feel him grin against your skin.

"You wanna elope with me, doll?" he asks suddenly.

Spine stiffening, you look at him from the side of your now-widened eyes. "Huh?"

"You heard me," he shrugs nonchalantly, as if it doesn't bother him. And it probably doesn't, knowing that he'll always have a way out eventually to get what he wants.

"I—" you start, your words suddenly knotting in your throat. "Ryu... that's a big decision."

"Well duh!" he exclaims. "That's the point! We gotta make it dramatic as possible. That's the whole fun of it."

"Are you only asking me to do this just so you can get some weird spark of adrenaline?" you ask, brows furrowing in anticipation.

Ryusei snorts. "You think that lowly of me? Hell no. I wanna marry you, for real. It's just..." For the first time since you've known him... you hear Shidou Ryusei falter. His head hunches a bit, a frown forming itself on his lips.

"Your parents will never approve of me, we both know that," he says, his grip around you tightening as though you'd slip away from him at any moment. "I'd never get their blessing."

Your eyes soften a bit as he stares intently at the view in front of you. The way his voice goes so quiet confirms the genuineness behind his words and you know what he says about your parents is true. Yes, he loves you and yes, he'll be able to provide for you, but when your parents learned about his reputation on the field as a soccer player, they exactly weren't the most pleased to know that your boyfriend was willing to start fights with whoever dared to cross him.

But... despite it all, despite all the headlines and the rumors, Shidou Ryusei was still yours. You still held him close despite all the challenges that came your way just for being at his side. It was that singular layer of himself that he'd unsheathe just for you to let you know that you mattered to him just as much as soccer did. While the questions of why were still left unanswered, since as much as you knew him, Ryusei was still an enigma to you, his actions spoke loud and true. Reckless as he was, at the end of the day, he was so, so good to you.

Sure, you could also get such loving from some plucky nobody on the street, but Ryusei's form of love was different. It was vibrant, avid with colors and explosions of life, you don't think another person could dare paint themselves in the colors of Shidou Ryusei.

You could go about your mundane life. Settle down with someone that was just as enticing as you were, have a family, keep working at your corporate job, retire peacefully...

... but truly, where was the fun in that?

You don't think you can live life in that manner after meeting Ryusei. You don't think you should.

"... are you really serious about this?" you mutter softly. "Do you really intend on marrying me?"

Ryusei cocks a brow, as if you've just asked him if the sky is blue. "No shit I do. You think all those times me screaming 'This one's for you' right before I score a goal were for nothing?"

You sigh with a smile, memories of playbacks of your boyfriend shrieking out your name on the field when the ball lands in the net running through your mind and how you had to hide your face at times in embarrassment when he pointed a painted fingernail in your direction in the VIP section.

"Do you swear you'll treat me well?" you ask as your hand finds its way to his own.

Ryusei interlocks his fingers with yours. "When have I not?"

Your heart squeezes. "And do you swear that you'll love me forever?"

You can just hear the smirk in his voice. Suddenly, he removes his hands and repositions them on your waist, your feet suddenly not being rooted to the ground anymore.

"'Till death to us part, sweetness!" he shouts, twirling you around with his strength.

You yell at him to put you down, fists going to hit his arms as he nears the edge of the fencepost. "Okay, okay, I get it! Ryu, I'll fall—Christ, Ryusei put me down! I'll marry you, just put me down!"

Eventually, he does and his laughter dies down. Suddenly, your cheeks are being squished and your lips meet his in a semi-violent manner, teeth nearly clashing as Ryusei kisses you hard and passionately.

He holds you there for a minute, tasting your lips over and over again with his before he breaks apart from you and gives you a wide grin, smirking at your flustered breathlessness.

"Call off work," he says, giving a wet kiss on your forehead. "We're going ring shopping tomorrow first thing."

— promisingly yours, michael kaiser.

"I hate you."

... is what Kaiser said to you out of the blue one day, completely unprompted. You were standing at the entrance of his apartment, some food for him in hand, your journey to travel to his abode ending on a rather oddly sour note.

Despite the fact that it was him that asked you to come over to "hang out" at his place while he was off-season, Kaiser wanted to push you away, to get you as far away from him as possible. He could no longer stand to look at your face without his gut churning and his head spinning. Similar in the way that he'd watch his opponent score a goal during a high-intensity game, something about your presence made him feel queasy, as though there were a storm brewing up inside of him.

It wasn't always this way, which was the weird part. Or perhaps, for a better wording, wasn't always this intense. You and him had been friends since childhood, after he wandered into your father's bakery with the intent to steal to survive. You had graciously given him some spare bread rolls and told him that you'll see him later, in which his return to your father's bakery had bloomed a friendship. Leave it to the neighborhood baker's kid to befriend even the oddest of children, even the one that had a scrappy jersey and bruised knees with a busted lip that would send warning signs to most children. But no, you had to come in and swoop Kaiser into your life like the saint you were.

The problem is that Kaiser didn't know how a sickening feeling like this developed. Was it when you had baked him a small cake for one of his birthdays? Or perhaps when you started showing up to his soccer games to support him? He didn't know and that's what pissed him off—that he didn't have a definite answer to when this feeling started. He let go of that irritation quickly, however, choosing to dwell on the present and future instead of the past since he knew he couldn't change it even if he did have a framework of when. It wasn't like he could go back into the past and stop this horrid feeling from being born.

It was swiftly replaced instead by an annoyance of some kind. He'd get a tugging feeling at his chest whenever you smiled at him or whenever your hands would brush against his. His head would start to spin whenever you were near him, your perfume mingling in the air. The older you and him grew, the more intense such a feeling became and it became a more avid distraction as the years passed.

Like the time you had been sick and missed out on an extremely important match that would bring him to the German World Cup. He remembers seeing the empty seat he reserved for you and how he kept looking back at it during each play. He'd score a goal in a miraculous play and would whip his head around to see if you witnessed him in such a glory, but then a frustration would stir up within him at the air that lingered in your seat. He remembers being more destructive on the field that day.

Or perhaps the time he had taken you on a trip abroad to New York, just you and him, where amidst all the sparkling billboards, one of his own sponsored by Adidas posted on the Times Tower, Kaiser's handsome face overseeing the business of Times Square. It was hard not to miss, if anything, and he got upset that you only complimented it with a mere "That's so cool!" as though the man standing right next to you wasn't the face for one of the top soccer teams in the world.

Or when poor Ness had to witness him throw a tantrum in his apartment when you texted him that you had to cancel plans since you were going on a date one evening. Plates and glassware were broken, Kaiser's nails going to rip some of the canvases of the paintings that were hung up on the wall.

"A date?! A motherfucking date?! What the hell?!" he had shouted as another plate made contact with the wall, shattering it into pieces. "(Y/N) doesn't go on dates?! What the fuck is this!"

In his fit of fury, thoughts of all kinds had raced through his mind, and Ness had to use all of his strength to make sure Kaiser didn't hunt to the poor soul that you had a date with down. Thankfully, you had called him later that night and asked to go to his place, telling him your date had stood you up.

Ness had never seen Kaiser more serene after he ended the call with you, a content smile on his face despite the destruction around him.

Either way, you made Kaiser's body weaker with just the presence of you around him. And nothing made Kaiser hate himself more than feeling weak, hating how he was reduced that small child on the kitchen counter, staring up helplessly at a monster that he was half-created from. Your very essence made his core tighten and a heat bloom all over his cheeks, something that sickened him.

So he hates you. He hates you unbelievably so much for being able to bring him to his knees so pathetically, begging for your attention and your care. A twisted sense of shame would linger to him whenever he was reminded of your existence—as though you were his kryptonite.

He thinks this is the worse it's ever been—now that you and him are fully grown adults where maturity has blossomed something within you. You look more beautiful than usual lately, Kaiser notices. You're more confident and headstrong, your wit a little quicker. An aura of radiance seems to glimmer from you and you just have this magnetic pull that attracts many people toward your direction.

In a sinister sense, Kaiser wants to keep you all to himself. Wants to keep you trapped in his hold and keep you caged so he can admire you alone, away from prying eyes that might have similar intentions. No one should deserve to have such a beauty in their life, let alone gaze upon it. He's God's chosen emperor, only he should be allowed to have such a pretty, loving thing at his side.

But he can't obviously. You wouldn't be okay with it. And as much as Kaiser takes great pleasure in seeing faces of despair and misery from those he wants to bring down, he doesn't like it when you get upset at him. Loathes it, even, when you disapprove of something he does.

He hates you for making him so vulnerable, for showing him a side of himself that he doesn't want to acknowledge.

You blink blankly at his irritated face, raising a brow at such a statement.

But you nonchalantly shrug, used to Kaiser's peculiar behavior. Surely something from earlier must've pissed him off, which is why you leapt to your feet when he essentially commanded you to come over.

"Whatever man," you sigh, shoving your way through into his apartment without a care in the world. "Tell me something new for a change."

Kaiser opens his mouth to respond, brows furrowed, and ready to tell you to piss off and get the hell out, not wanting to be around you any longer, but words dissolve on his tongue when he watches you whistle a tune and unpack the package of food you bought along the way on the kitchen island. It's an oddly domestic scene.

You hold up a plastic container, its contents making Kaiser's eye grow wider.

"Look," you cheer, opening up and holding a stick of seasoned bread crust. "Even got your favorite!"

He swallows thickly, feeling that weakness come to his knees again when you give that dazzling smile of yours. Call him a masochist, but even though Kaiser hates the way you make him feel like this, he can't help but savor it.

So he's here now. A few years later, on the rooftop of an ancient Parisian building with a white carpet before him as he stands on end of a white carpet. The other side of it, the elevator to the rooftop.

Blue rose petals that mimic the tattoo on his neck scatter the area with a flower arch stretching over the small stage he's on. The Eiffel Tower oversees the entirety of Paris, its lights glowing amidst the evening sky. The breeze is just perfect, Kaiser just hopes everything else will go according to plan as he stares intently at the elevator.

"Ness, it feels a little tight..." you mutter, trying to tug at the blindfold that covers your eyes.

"But you can't see anything, right?" Ness asks as his grip on your shoulders stays firm.

"No, but—"

"Good!" he retorts happily. "Don't worry, we've only got a few more floors to go."

Your lips warble. You feel as though this is somehow a weird murder set up Ness has planned for you, possibly waiting for the right moment to just shove you off the building while you weren't able to see. He always did happen to hold a small grudge against you, after all, since he had to practically fight for Kaiser's attention whereas you got it so naturally.

"Where's Micha?" you ask as the floors continue to ding out from inside of the elevator.

"Somewhere," Ness singsongs out, making the feeling in your gut churn.

You stay quiet, trying to think of an escape plan to get yourself out of this mess, but suddenly you hear the elevator doors shift and feel a cool breeze.

"Watch your step now," he says from behind you, lighting pushing you forward while making sure your heel didn't get caught in the little gap of the elevator and its doors. He promised that Kaiser that everything about tonight had to go right, and if he dared to mess up anything, Kaiser would have his head. So Ness, ten times more attentive than usual, gently leads you out of the elevator and onto the rooftop.

"Where are we?" you ask him, your head turning around rapidly to try and examine your surroundings despite the black blindfold. " Are we outside?"

"Leave us be, Ness," a familiar voice says.

The heavy feeling on your chest suddenly lifts, letting you breathe a little easier now that you know that your life has been spared from Ness's hands. Kaiser's voice, though it may bring impending doom to many, somehow had the ability to ease you and your worries.

Ness goes to unravel the blindfold from your eyes, letting the warm glow of the many candles before you light up your field of vision. He leaves promptly, going back down the elevator and leaving you alone with the blurry figure some meters before you. Your vision clears eventually, and the scene unfurls before you much more vividly.

There stands Kaiser at the end of a magnificent carpet that tells you to come his way, dressed in a dark blue button up and black slacks with matching dress shoes. Ever the handsome fellow, you softly smile at him as you walk slowly down the carpet, never breaking eye contact with him.

It was good to make you wear white for tonight, Kaiser thinks to himself as he gets hypnotized by the way your dress flows behind you. This almost feels like practice to what's to come.

"This doesn't look like a dinner," you say softly as you take Kaiser's hand to help you up the platform.

"No, but it's something much better," he replies, a tightness in his voice that he tries to hide. "I hope."

"You hope?" you repeat, brow raising.

"It's all going to depend on you, so don't ruin it for the both of us," Kaiser grumbles before you snort out a laugh.

Getting a hint of what's to come, you allow him to take your hand and watch as he gets down on one knee before you.

Kaiser strokes the back of your hand with his thumb, bringing it to his lips and kissing it softly, all the while gazing at you.

"You're the only person that's able to bring me to my knees, you know that?" he professes quietly.

You can feel a hitch in your throat when you nod, a heat forming on your cheeks.

Kaiser pauses for a bit before continuing. "I hate you. You know."

"Yes," you sigh gently, thinking about all the times that Kaiser spewed out the words whenever he got annoyed with you. "You make it very aware."

He chuckles, and you can't help but laugh as well.

"But I hate you for a good reason. You make me weak, you make my head spin with every action you do, with every word you say," continues Kaiser eventually. "You know me better than I know myself. And I don't know whether it's been in each other's lives for so long or... or if I just get so vulnerable around you."

You bite your lip in apprehension, trying to regulate your breathing as the words just flow from Kaiser's lips as he pulls out a white ring box from his pocket.

"I want to feel that way around you forever, even if it might kill me," Kaiser declares. He slowly opens the ring box to reveal a handcrafted ring that glimmers with a large sapphire gem in the middle whose blue hue reminds you of someone all the familiar. "I want you to keep making me feel so stupidly small, to keep putting me in my place when I need it. And I want to relish in it forever, just as long as its you. I want you all to myself, because only you, (Y/N) (L/N), can do this to me."

"Micha," you choke out his nickname with a voice just slightly above a whisper. The way he looks at you so dearly makes you want to burst into tears. You don't think anyone else has ever looked in your direction is such an adoring way.

Kaiser takes a deep breath, his nerves easing themselves to a balance as he swallows his concern away, letting himself linger in the moment.

"Will you marry me?" he asks you tenderly.

He thinks that the tears that cascade down your perfect face gives him all the answer he needs, but his heart nearly leaps out of his chest when you whisper back,

"... yes."

a/n ; ITS DONE !!!! oooohhh i'm so tired asdfllksadfk my ass hurts from all the sitting

but hi if you've made it this far! im thinking of making a part two to this with a couple of more characters, but wow i will not lie this took some life out of me lolol but regardless! thank you for reading, reblogs and comments are always noticed and appreciated (っ´ω`c)♡ !!

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atomtanned · 1 day ago

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💚 Traits, Refreshed & Randomized

I'm currently in the testing process for V2 of my Trait-Based Chemistry mod, but I wanted to go ahead and share this first, since I intend these to be used with that mod.

The original 3t2 traits were released 6 years ago, and I thought it was time for a fresh look. And while Flippity Flop traits by @anachronisims/@cityof2morrow filled in some gaps, I still felt like there were some aspects of real life personalities that were missing. And like most things, I started working on this and couldn't stop. Here's what you'll find in the download folders:

New icons for 3t2 & Flippity Flop traits, using 4t2 icons

Increased texture size for all traits, so they look a bit nicer in Sims' inventories - these went from 128x64 to 256x128 (preview below the cut)

9 new traits to complement the above sets

New icons for some "bonus" traits like @tammyhybrid21's Alien trait and @midgethetree's Fairy trait, plus 8 new completer bonus traits

Mesh swap of Simlogical's Prisoner Tag to fit the same format as the traits

Optional renamed traits (included in a separate folder with credits where applicable)

Trait randomizer program using Hook's RandomStuff

All traits use their original GUIDs and file names so you can just replace them in your downloads folder if you have the originals. You may need to manually refresh thumbnails in-game to see the new icons.

‼️The collection file is required - these objects will not show up in the catalog. If you are new to using traits, you also MUST have the trait_MAIN file from the original traits project post.

It's been ages since I shared anything and I started this project months ago, so it's highly possible I made a mistake somewhere. Let me know if you run into any issues!

✨DOWNLOAD: SFS / MF

Updated 2/16/25: Fixed an error where some of the renamed traits were showing in the catalog instead of collection only. Archives have been updated.

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

💌 CREDITS

@hexagonal-bipyramid for their Traits project

@anachronisims & @cityof2morrow for their Flippity Flop traits

@tammyhybrid21, @midgethetree & @fireflowersims for some of the bonus traits

Simlogical for the Prisoner Tag

Hook at MATY for RandomStuff program

📝 DOCUMENTATION:

List of traits & GUIDs included

Trait Randomizer instructions

💾 EXTRAS:

If you're looking for true 4t2 trait conversions, @cityof2morrow made an extensive set available here!

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

Preview of 3t2 traits, bonus trait with new background color, and prisoner tag mesh change:

#atomtanned.package #ts2cc #s2cc #dl: mods #dl: traits #ts2 mods #ts2 traits #sims 2 traits #3t2 traits

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chosenofyffre · 3 days ago

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^ This.

I'm one of those who needs engagement to stay motivated to share my writing. And these days I get a handful of kudos at best, and maybe a single comment every now and then. I stopped writing for a whole damn year because engagement was so dismal. I thought that since so many readers couldn't be bothered to give my fics a chance, let alone kudos or comment when they did read, I didn't feel like making the effort to post anything.

It honestly makes me so happy to get comments that I try to stay positive to keep people from being "scared" to comment. But it's not anything I do or don't do that causes this, it's fandom and its fic readers changing the way things work. We went from a fandom of support and cooperation and collaborative fun to some sort of competition to "consume" things that inevitably favors those who are already popular or get popular through having a lot of friends, and hurts those of us who, for reasons largely outside of our control, don't catch the eyes of most readers.

It fucking sucks to be one of the ones getting ignored. Even in the heydays of my old fandoms, I was never all that popular, but it was nowhere near this demoralizingly bad. And I don't know how to change it, or to get more readers to engage.

Anyway, I have nothing to lose so I'm just gonna link my AO3 accounts here.

My main with all my fandom fic: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madrigal_nights

My origfic: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fruit_holic

A shout out to all the writers out there who don’t make the rec lists or have all the buzz or get all the traffic and attention or kudos. Your work is still valuable and appreciated and loved, and without you and your fics, fandom would be so much poorer.

Keep on writing and creating and sharing your works. You have an audience who loves you.

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vvkyomi · 1 day ago

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what the blue lock boys' good luck charm is | itoshi sae, shidou ryusei, nagi seishiro, michael kaiser

itoshi sae

i can imagine you getting him some kind of bracelet that he wears 24/7. he won't do anything like kiss it before a game because he thinks it's embarrassing. he doesn't think he needs luck—he's got talent, after all—but he still won't take it off. when you gifted him the bracelet, he probably didn't look all that impressed with it. but when you told him “i'll return it if you don't like it” he just scoffed and never even answered you. trust me, that's sae's version of the no, it's mine forever now. and he literally never takes it off. like. he wears it to his games, in the shower, at interviews. he gives no fucks.

he never talks about it though. he doesn't even like when you bring it up. he's just embarrassed ,, he's just a silly little guy.

shidou ryusei

i'm not going to be nsfw here but trust me, i could be. he's my favourite little freak. <3 but alas ,

his good luck charm is a kiss from you. i'm not talking about a little brush of your lips, no. i'm talking about a full on kiss, tongue and everything, before every single one of his games. if you're willing, he'll make a show out of it too. he'll make out with you right in the stadium after threatening the coach to let you sit on the bench with the team as opposed to somewhere in the audience.

he'll come out of the locker room, run up to you and just pull you into a kiss. if he could, he'd do it after every single one of his goals too. (he's probably tried this and figured out pretty quickly that it doesn't work all that well in the middle of a game)

nagi seishiro

nagi is a low effort type of guy. he likes easy things and he doesn't want to over complicate literally anything. so for him, i imagine it'd be something simple and sweet: a hug. before one of his games, you'll give him a tight hug & kiss on the cheek to seal the deal.

“do your best, sei!” you'll say and he'll complain and whine that it's a hassle, but at the end of the day, he will try to do his best for you. and so far, it's worked pretty well.

sometimes though, he won't want to leave your embrace. he'll just keep holding onto you until you have to literally pull him off because he needs to get to the locker room to get changed for the game. bribe him with cuddles and a gaming session if he does well and he'll let go—but not without complaining and whining.

michael kaiser

he has a lot of tattoos. so before an important game, you'll get a sharpie and add a little drawing to them. other people rarely see it since he's got to keep his arms covered most of the time during games anyway, but he knows it's there and it makes him want to be even better—want to impress you even more.

the night before a game, you'll add a cute little sketch of a cat to his arm with a little heart and he literally will not shower until after the game, just to make sure it stays there. i don't think it's so much about luck for him, i think it's just a reminder that you're watching him and he needs to be the best on the field.

#🫧 : drabbles #itoshi sae x you #itoshi sae x y/n #itoshi sae x reader #shidou ryusei x reader #shidou ryusei x you #nagi seishiro x you #nagi seishiro x reader #michael kaiser x reader #michael kaiser x you #michael kaiser x y/n #blue lock x female reader #blue lock x gender neutral reader #blue lock x y/n #blue lock x male reader #blue lock x you #blue lock x reader

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wendichester · 3 days ago

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⋆˚✿˖° like cherry pie,

summary. dean winchester isn’t a valentine’s day guy—until you change his mind.

pairing. dean winchester x reader

wordcount. 566

"Valentine’s Day is a scam," Dean grumbles, leaning back in the booth with a half-empty beer bottle in his hand.

You roll your eyes, tapping your fingers against the cold metal of your milkshake cup. "You’re so predictable."

He scoffs. "Predictable? Nah, sweetheart, I just call it like I see it. Overpriced candy, packed restaurants, dudes scrambling last minute for gas station flowers—"

You hold up a hand. "Let me guess. You’d rather spend the night hunting a wendigo than do something ‘corny’ like go on a date?"

Dean tilts his head like he's considering it. "Well, when you put it like that…"

You shake your head, biting back a smile. "I bet if some cute waitress brought you a slice of cherry pie and called you ‘sweetheart,’ you’d be all in."

Dean opens his mouth, then pauses, looking momentarily guilty.

You gasp. "Oh my god. You would."

"I didn’t say that!"

"You didn’t have to!" You laugh, pointing at him. "See? You do like romance. You just need it wrapped up in diner food and a little flattery."

Dean groans, rubbing a hand down his face. "I regret agreeing to this date."

But he doesn’t. You know he doesn’t, because even though he’d rather face a nest of vamps than admit it, Dean likes spending time with you. No monsters, no hunts—just this.

The two of you sit tucked in a corner booth, the kind with red vinyl seats and a flickering neon jukebox humming out old love songs. It’s past the Valentine’s Day rush, mostly truckers and late-night regulars left behind, the smell of coffee and frying bacon hanging in the air.

You rest your chin on your hand, watching him. "So if you hate Valentine’s Day so much, why’d you say yes?"

Dean exhales, spinning the beer bottle between his fingers. "Because you asked."

Your heart stutters.

Before you can come up with a response, the waitress appears with a slice of cherry pie, setting it down in front of you with a wink. "This one’s on the house, sweetheart."

Dean stares at you like you orchestrated the whole thing.

You barely hold back a giggle. "Told you so."

His eyes narrow. "You paid her off, didn’t you?"

You grab a fork, breaking off a bite, holding it up to him. "C’mon, Valentine. Let’s share."

He hesitates for half a second before sighing and leaning in, lips wrapping around the fork. He chews, considering. Then—

"Shit," he mutters. "That’s good."

You smirk, taking your own bite. "Tastes better when it’s free."

Dean watches you, something unreadable in his expression. The neon lights outside reflect in his green eyes, a soft warmth beneath all that teasing bravado. He taps his fingers against the table, exhaling through his nose.

"You know… maybe this holiday ain’t so bad."

You feign shock. "Dean Winchester admitting defeat? Marking this down in history."

Dean scoffs. "I ain’t admitting shit. I’m just sayin’—" He picks up his fork, stealing another bite of your pie. "Good food, good company… I could get used to this."

Your chest tightens in the best way.

"Me too," you admit, voice quieter now.

Dean doesn’t say anything, just nudges the plate a little closer between you. And in the soft glow of the diner, with the jukebox crooning something slow and sweet, he looks at you like maybe he could get used to this too.

want be part of the taglist.ᐣ ⋆.˚ ★— @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing ⋆ @deans-daydream ⋆ @taurus0queenie33 ⋆ @ambiguous-avery ⋆ @krabog ⋆ @itsdearapril ⋆ @nymphet-quenn ⋆ @bluemerakis ⋆ @titsout4jackles ⋆ @lyarr24 ⋆ @hauntedrose555 ⋆ @chevroletdean ⋆ @dulcescorderitas ⋆ @blackmarketfruitrollups ⋆ @impala67rollingthroughtown ⋆ @rulesareshadesofgrey ⋆ @nervoussystems ⋆ @daryls-luvrr ⋆ @sunnyteume ⋆ @drakelover78 ⋆ @angelblqde ⋆ @mostlymarvelgirl ⋆ @whisperingdaze ⋆ @funkenniffler ⋆ @bossyblondie ⋆ @lieutenantchaos ⋆ @iluvnewtie ⋆ @dyhsversion ⋆ @lovewolfspirit ⋆ @kayleighwinchester ⋆ @s0urw00lf ⋆ @cursednevermore ⋆ @img14 ⋆ @onelonelybitch ⋆ @americanvenom13 ⋆ @iluvdeanwinchester ⋆ @idk6505 ⋆ @devilslittlehelper ⋆ @cloverleaf20 ⋆ @giggles1026 ⋆ @idontwannabehere7 ⋆ @beakaleak32 ⋆ @ocelotlist51 ⋆ @lelapine ⋆ @pwin098 ⋆ @lacysretribution ⋆ @globetrotter28 ⋆ @aerinu

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester fic #supernatural #.docx #valentines day

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wosospacegirl · 3 days ago

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And they were roommates - part 2

Summary: Y/n gets injured and has to stay in recovery for 8 months. It's a good thing her friend and teammate Kyra is more than willing to move in with her. wink wink

Warnings: angst; hurt/comfort; reader might have a crush on Kyra ;)

Word count: 3.4k

| PART 1 HERE |

Over the next few days, Kyra and Y/n settle into a comfortable, domestic routine.

Kyra was the first to wake up each day. She went straight to Y/n’s room to check on her and give her her morning medication, along with a cup of black coffee.

Y/n didn’t like mornings, especially now with the heavy cast on her leg. Kyra, on the other hand, loved mornings, so she sat by Y/n’s bed and chatted for 20 minutes straight while Y/n nodded along to whatever Kyra was saying.

“—And that's how we’re beating Man United this weekend,” Kyra concluded after a long thought process about technical strategies that would lead the Gunners to yet another victory. “I mean, they can’t keep putting her as a winger, right?” Kyra turned to Y/n, waiting for her to nod again.

“How can you have so much to say at 7 am?” Y/n asked, hiding her face in her pillow.

“I just do, it’s a talent, you wouldn’t know it, Grumpy,” Kyra shrugged and threw herself on the bed next to Y/n, the sunlight hitting Kyra’s freckles.

Kyra was wearing tracksuit bottoms and an old, oversized t-shirt, she looked pretty, comfy, and very cuddly too.

“Will you come with me today?” Kyra asked, changing the subjects, caution in her voice.

“Where?” Y/n asked confused, her eyebrows furrowed. She wasn’t supposed to go to physiotherapy or the doctor for another two weeks.

“Training?” Kyra explained, holding her head with one hand as she rested her elbow on the mattress. “They miss you, the girls, I mean. You could go there for a few hours, talk to Alessia, Leah, Steph… I bet Win misses you too,”

“I’m not in the mood,” Y/n said, turning her back to Kyra. Y/n missed the girls, but it would be too upsetting to see them running around while she could barely stand on her own.

“You’ve said that the last three times, Y/n” Kyra sighed. “You haven’t left the house, not once, and you also won’t talk to anyone but me and your mom. That’s worrying. You can’t just wait for me to come home every day, you also need to do relaxing and fun things for yourself.” Y/n felt a pleasant pressure on her shoulder. It was Kyra’s hand.

You can’t just stay here in bed and rot, maybe you could start a new hobby! Painting, sudoku, I don’t know!””Kyra continued, using the serious tone she never used with Y/n. “You need to see people, see your friends, get some fresh air.

Y/n rolled her eyes. “And do what? Talk about how miserable I am all the time?” Y/n said bitterly.

Kyra didn’t understand.

She had never been seriously injured before, she didn’t know what it was like to just go to bed every day not knowing what the future held. Football was everything to Y/n. It was her passion, her hobby and her career. Ninety per cent of her friends were footballers themselves, her whole social circle revolved around football.

Without it, she was nothing Football’s been her thing since she was a kid. Y/n had grown up with a ball on her feet, and now it was gone, and she didn’t know if she would get it back. Right now, Y/n was nothing.

Kyra pressed her lips together and stared at the girl, trying to think of what to say.

“Go away please, I want to be alone,” Y/n muttered after the room had gone quiet.

“No,” Kyra said. “Let’s talk about this, let’s—”

“Go. Away.” Y/n snapped.

Y/n felt the shift in the mattress. Kyra wasn’t sitting on it anymore. “You can’t keep pushing people away, it’ll only hurt you even more,” Kyra said quietly. “You can’t let yourself go like that, you know how easy it is for us athletes to get depressed after an injury, I don’t want that to happen to you.”

“I’m not depressed, Kyra!” Y/n locked eyes with the other girl, anger slowly building in her chest. “I just don’t have anything! If I talk to the girls all I’ll think about is how they’re playing and I’m not.

“You don’t have anything?!” Kyra raised her voice. “What do you mean you have nothing? You’re not just your fucking leg, or your football—You’re a whole person! Just because you can’t play right now doesn’t mean you have no worth.”

Y/n remained silent as Kyra’s voice escalated. Kyra was starting to get angry with her. Kyra had never been angry with her before.

“You are injured! Your tibia split in two, of course, it’ll take some time to heal. Does that mean you have to stay in the house for the remaining months? Of course not!” Kyra’s face was flushed, and she was out of breath.

“Kyra, my whole life had been inside a pitch, I don’t know how the fuck to live without knowing if I’ll ever be in one again!” Y/n exploded, pointing at her cast “And this fucking leg hurts all the time, it’s always a reminder of how unhappy I am and how the world kept on moving while I just stay here!”

“But you don’t have to just stay here! You are the one who is avoiding the world, but it hasn’t stopped for you, it never has! Especially because you have people who care about you! You would know that if you would answered your phone when your friends called,” Kyra rubbed her eyes, tiredly.

“Why is it so hard for you to be kind and patient with yourself?” Kyra asked, looking genuinely confused, trying to find the answer to her question on Y/n’s face. “It’s so easy to treat you well, I don’t know why you find it so difficult.”

Kyra finally took a deep breath, and then another.

“Okay, I’m calm now. I’m sorry,” Kyra said, unclenching her fist. “I didn’t mean to get mad at you, I know you’re frustrated and angry right now. I just wish you’d be more compassionate with yourself and your body.

The room was silent.

“I’ll just… go then. I have to be at training in half an hour anyway,” Kyra took a step closer to where Y/n was lying, she dropped a soft kiss on her cheek. “Just don’t—rot in bed the whole day, ok? I’ll buy you some food and send it over at lunchtime so you can eat something other than crisps”.

Y/n felt her skin warm where Kyra had kissed her. She barely had time to process it before Kyra pulled away. “Okay, thank you,” Y/n whispered, she couldn’t help the blush creeping up her neck.

She should say something, she should say how sorry she was and how ungrateful she had been, Kyra didn’t complain about having to put up with her. Often Y/n felt that she didn’t deserve to have Kyra by her side and now was one of those times. She felt embarrassed by the way she just acted.

Y/n wasn’t someone who felt at ease with vulnerability. She didn’t normally let people see her at her lowest, except her closest friend, of course, but even now the thought of seeing them, of going back to Arsenal, even if for a few hours, felt excruciating.

It was as if life was mocking Y/n. Everyone’s life would go on, even if hers was frozen in time. Arsenal still had good and healthy athletes to train.

Kyra still had responsibilities to attend ttoY/n didn’t, not for the months ahead of her.

Eight months the doctor said, eight months until (and if) she could run. Would she be this bitter for that long? Was she going to stay frustrated with everything and everyone forever? Was she going to shut herself off from her teammates—her friends—if she didn’t heal the way she intended?

Change was a slow process, but Y/n decided to start it right now.

“Ky?” Y/n called.

“Yeah?”

“I’m being an idiot,” Y/n admitted.

Kyra smiled. “Yeah, you kind of are.”

“I’m sorry,” Y/n apologized. Small steps.

“It’s fine, you are a lot meaner when you lose at UNO, it didn’t scare me.”

Both girls smiled at each other.

Kyra held no grudges; it was one of the things Y/n admired the most about her.

“But if you really want me to forgive you, you’ll let me do something,” Kyra added, mischievous in her voice.

Y/n narrowed her eyes. “What?’

“You’ll see,” Kyra said before leaving the room. “I’ll be back around 3 pm, see you!”

Y/n heard the front door close, and now she was alone. Y/n thought she enjoyed being alone, but deep down she didn’t. She missed Kyra when she was away. The house no longer felt warm and comforting; instead; it felt cold and isolated.

Y/n thought about Kyra’s words; about her being kind to others and not to herself. When Beth and Viv tore their ACLs, Y/n committed herself to take their dogs on a walk every day, since the couple couldn’t walk.

When Vic got injured Y/n made sure she was left alone during the physio sessions. When Leah also tore her ACL she made sure to call her every day to see how she was doing; Leah, unlike Y/n, answered her calls.

Y/n had so much love and support around her. She needed it to allow herself to receive it.

Y/n looked around her room. It felt strange now. Before her surgery, she had thought the room was rather cosy, with its green walls and light wooden furniture, but now it felt like a prison.

Maybe Kyra would agree to put on a mattress in the living room and make it into a bed. Then both girls could just sleep there, and watch some films. It would probably bring Y/n some comfort.

Hours later Kyra came back from training wearing a black kit. Her hair was in a ponytail, with grass and dirt on it. Y/n wasn’t sure if it was because of their fight earlier, but Kyra seemed different somehow . Even though Kyra was all dirty, y/n couldn’t help but notice how pretty she looked. She realised she hadn’t seen Kyra with her hair in a ponytail before, she always wore it in a bun. It was nice, maybe the new hairstyle was the reason why Y/n couldn’t take her eyes off of her.

Cute, Kyra is cute.

She has always been cute, of course, but in the last few days, she looked even prettier. It’s okay to think your friends are cute. It was normal. Y/n thought to herself as Kyra bent down to take out her shoes, the black legging hugging her body. The book Y/n had in hand long forgotten.

Hot. Y/n thought. She was hot.

Maybe it wasn’t okay to think your friends were hot.

“Sorry?” Kyra asked turning to face Y/n.

Y/n widened her eyes. “What? Y/n said, her cheeks flushed. Fuck, had she said that out loud? And why did she sound so defensive? Chill out. “I didn’t say anything., she said, in a calmer tone, closing her book.

“Yes, you did,” Kyra insisted, looking at her with a smile. She let her hair out of the ponytail, letting it fall over her shoulder.

“Nop! You’re going mad, I’m afraid.” Y/n asserted, chin up.

“It must be all the time we spend together, then” Kyra raised a brow.

A lot of time together, indeed.

“Wait, is that a book? I haven’t seen you with a book for a while, I’m proud you still know your letters.” Kyra continued, a smirk on her face

Kyra was right, thought. With football and national camps, she hadn’t had time to read. It had been embarrassing years since she picked up a book. But now she had time, so she just took advantage of it.

“Haha you’re so funny,” Y/n said dryly. “You told me to do something nice for myself, so I decided to read this book I had lying around,” Y/n said, proudly.

Kyra looked dramatically surprised. “Wow, you actually listened to me? Did something happen while I was gone? Did you fall? Oh, you might have brain haemorrhage!”

“The ability you have to turn a normal conversation into a sarcastic one will always blow my mind,” Y/n said, rolling her eyes.

“Good thing I love to blow your mind,” Kyra said before realizing the double meaning of what she just said.

The girls stared at each other.

“Okay that was awkward,” Kyra mumbled, blushing. “I mean it like—”

Y/n laughed, thinking it was cute how embarrassed Kyra looked. Usually, Kyra was the one who put people in awkward situations.

“It’s all right, I got what you meant,” Y/n said, offering a small smile. “So—” She changed the subject, not wanting Kyra to feel uncomfortable. “What was that thing you wanted me to do so you can forgive me?”

Kyra looked at her watch. “You won’t have to do anything. But they will be here soon.”

Y/n frowned slightly. “Did you get that line from some horror film? Who the hell are they?”

Kyra rolled her eyes. “You’re no fun, I’m trying to be mysterious here”.

“You sound suspicious, not mysterious!”

“Oh, shut up, just sit there and look pretty, no more questions, please.”

Y/n welcomed the compliment “Why, because you won’t be able not to tell me?” She challenged.

Kyra was the worst secret keeper she had ever known.

“You know me so well actually!” Kyra said. “Stop asking questions. I’m going to take a shower, but I’ll be right back,” Kyra said before heading upstairs.

Don’t go. Y/n almost said. Almost begged her to keep that kit on so Y/n could just look at her for a few moments.

The thing was: Y/n got used to having Kyra around, not just because she needed Kyra’s help to get things done, but because she just…appreciated her presence.

Y/n was always bored to tears while Kyra was away for training or a match day, so when Kyra came home, Y/n wanted her all to herself. Which was a bit strange.

Kyra Cooney-Cross was making Y/n think of very, very weird things. She wasn’t necessarily upset about it, though.

Minutes later Kyra stepped out of the shower, wearing sweatpants and an Arsenal hoodie. Y/n welcomed the sight more than she’d ever admit. Kyra was pretty, prettier than yesterday and the day before that.

Was Y/n suffering from carbon monoxide poisoning? Could that be the reason she was fancying Kyra? As it genuinely finding her attractive and not a bets mate type of way?

Kyra was attractive, of course. But Y/n hadn’t realised just how much it messed with her mind, and mostly her body. Kyra was her friend. Not as in a friends-with-benefits thing, but oh they could be, Y/n would be happy about that.

Kyra moved in to help me out, that’s all. She doesn’t like me that way, and that’s fine. Totally fine. Y/n bit her nails, trying to convince herself.

Before Y/n could spiral any further, Kyra clapped her hands and told Y/n to get ready, because apparently, the visitors they were having over were about to arrive.

An hour later Alessia and Leah stopped by with a warm lasagna on Leah’s hands.

It turned out that Kyra was only forgiving Y/n if she agreed to meet some of their friends and socialise for a few hours. “It’ll do you good” Kyra had said.d

“Hey, pest,” Leah greeted Kyra at the door. “How’s your pest doing? She hasn’t been answering mine or Lessie’s messages for a while now, is she dead? Did you kill her?”

“Well good evening to you too, Leah,” Kyra said ironically, letting both Leah and Alessia in, after kissing Alessia on the cheek.

“Why can’t you be like Alessia, she is so nice!” Kyra pouted, pointing at the blonde girl, “She doesn’t call me a pest or anything.”

Leah laughed and handed Kyra the lasagna. “Lessie girl is too nice to ever tell you the truth.”

Kyra and Leah continued their bickering while Alessia made herself at home. The girl was very familiar with Y/n’s house, having spent many film night’s here with Y/n and Kyra before Y/n’s injury.

Alessia went into the living room, where she found Y/n sitting on the couch, crutches propped up to the side.

“Less” y/n said cheerfully.

“Hey sweetie, how are you doing?” Alessia sat by Y/n’s side, hugging her. “God, I missed you so much, you have no idea.”

Y/n smiled and leaned further into Alessia’s embrace. “I missed you too, I feel like dying every time Kyra goes to training and I have to stay here by myself., Y/n confessed.

“Oh, so you miss me when I’m away. That is so lovely to hear!” Kyra's mischievous voice filled the living room as the girl elbowed Leah, “See, I told you she wasn’t bored of me yet.”

“Take me with you, Less, please.” Y/n playfully whispered in Alessia’s ear before the girl’s body was replaced by a taller and leaner one.

Leah hugged Y/n and patted her back before lightly smacking the top of her head.

“Ouch! What was that for?” Y/n whined, pouting.

“Me, Beth, Less, Kim—we’ve all been texting you non-stop, and you won’t text us back!” Leah scolded. “We’re not just your teammates, we’re your friends, in case you forgot!”

“Tough love. Told you.” Kyra chimed in from the corner of the room.

“Shut up, Kyra,” Leah and Y/n said in unison.

Y/n kept her eyes down, feeling a little embarrassed. Leah wasn’t wrong, though. Over the past week, she’d only been texting two people: her mom—because otherwise, she’d probably sent the police down; and Kyra—so she could pick up some snacks for Y/n on her way home.

“I know being injured is hard, but you can’t isolate yourself, especially form us!” Leah continued with a gentle reprimand. “You’re only going to feel worse.”

Leah pointed at Alessia, who was now standing next to Kyra. “Lessie told me you didn’t laugh at the memes she sent you! It’s Less, mate—you can’t make Lessie sad.”

If Y/n wasn’t being lectured by her captain, she would’ve laughed at how Leah was using Alessia’s sweetheart personally to make Y/n feel remorse about being a bad friend.

“Also,” Leah continued, now turning to Kyra. “Can you imagine how hard it is to rely on someone like Kyra for updates? Yesterday, she thought it’d be funny to tell Steph one of your bone screws had come loose.”

Y/n snapped her head towards Kyra, who suddenly looked like a kid caught red-handed. “I didn’t even get screws in my surgery! The doctor used locking compression plates instead!” Y/n argued.

“Well, you tell that to Steph,” Leah said dryly. “She cried and said we should call the surgeon responsible for letting you leave the hospital with a loose screw in your leg before Kyra finally told her she was just joking and that you were fine at home.”

“I didn’t think she would actually believe it,” Kyra winced, looking away, a small blush crept onto her cheeks.

“Steph got back at Kyra, don’t worry, Y/n,” Alessia added smiling. “Kyra is now responsible for walking Win every day before training.”

“I hate walking,” Kyra mumbled.

“Should’ve thought of that before messing with Steph,” Leah smirked.

“I was just trying to lighten the mood!” Kyra groaned.

“You don’t always have to fix things with jokes,” Y/n said smiling. “But I appreciate you are—at some point— giving updates to the girls. Still, leave that to me, I’ll start texting you guys back. I am sorry” Y/n apologized, glancing at Leah and Alessia.

“It’s all right kid, we’ve all been there, injuries bring out the worst in us,” Leah said, patting Y/n’s shoulder. “Now can we please eat the lasagna Lessie has made us? I’m starving!”

“You made your lasagna?” Y/n asked, her mouth-watering.

“Sure did. I know it’s your favourite,” Alessia said with a wink.

“May you be blessed for all eternity, Less,” Y/n said with an utmost stone face. “It’s been days since I’ve had good food.”

Kyra helped Y/n with her crutches before asking, a firm hand on her lower back. “Days? I’ve been making nutritious meals for us since you got back from the hospital!”

“Putting frozen pizza in the oven isn’t ‘making nutritious meals,’” Y/n teased, accepting Alessia’s hand as she sat down on the dining chair.

“I’m trying my best here,” Kyra huffed, crossing her arms.

Y/n leaned in, pressing a kiss to Kyra’s cheek. “Yeah, Yeah, I know. And I appreciate it very much.” She smiled.” Now let’s eat before Leah passes out from hunger.”

Read more of my work here -> Masterlist

Tell me if you would like to read any special scene with Kyra and reader!

Please like, share and let me know what you think! Feedback is important and makes me want to write even more. :D

#woso #woso fanfic #woso imagines #woso x reader #kyra cooney cross #women soccer #arsenal fanfic #woso appreciation #arsenal women #woso community

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butts-bouncing-on-the-beltway · 14 hours ago

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Some charges my aunties and uncles carried well into the 90s without pardon or exonneration of any kind:

Substance possession, esp weed, ecstasy, cocaine/crack, meth, etc

Cross-dressing (aka wearing more than the allowed number of "opposite sex clothing items, including undergarments that were not visible)

Solicitacion/suspicion of prostitution (the latter is the charge a trans auntie got for carrying condoms on her to a partner's house, the former charge was both accurate and forced on partners across multiple people in my life)

Vagrancy (got outed during a cruising bust and was evicted/blacklisted from all affordable rentals)

Sexual assault/attempted murder (an HIV + trans adult getting trans panicked)

Public indecency (cruising)

Sexual misconduct in the presence of a minor (had sex in their home while a child was present in the household but not in the room)

This is a non-exhaustive list. Many people I loved who lived queerly through the 1950s-1990s had multiple charges in their past. Few had none.

The goal is to criminalize every path to existence we have, and there is a reason that approach is scary and effective.

It also is absolutely not the all powerful steamrolling force people (on borh sides of the conflict) pretend it is.

I grew up in a thriving community of dykes, faggots, queers, drag queens/kings, intersex folks, and trans people. There were enough of us, even in 1998, to fill a 300 person hall for an AIDS memorial during pesach one year, just in the valley. We lived, we loved, we raised children and families, and we waged a background war for our fucking lives.

It is happening again and for many that will be terrifying. I will not lie to you and tell you not to be afraid or that we will suffer no losses. That 300person hall also had near on 150 empty chairs for the dead that year. But I need people to understand that waging the war only feels scary and overwhelming A) in the beginning when you are not yet sure how to fight, and B) when you are alone, overwhelmed, and feeling helpless in the face of a pressing threat. The rest of the time, you will find that the process of learning effective solidarity and resistance is way faster than you think.

I called my mother on Valentine's day and we talked a bit about what it's like as two queer people across generations, to be back here where we were together in my early childhood, and how my mother feels seeing these conversation return after she got nearly a decade of peace and retirement from activism because she believed it was time to pass the torch. She reminded me of a story she used to tell me when I was little

Mom worked for IBM on some major contracts, and she would sometimes find herself out back with the other engineers for a smoke break. Once, a man started talking about the news updates on AIDS: it was spreading amongst not just IV drug users and queers, but amongst heterosexual middle class folks who had never used or swung or sold or anything. At first the conversation is empathetic to the sick, and mom lets her guard down.

"And then he says "but now it's infecting people who don't deserve it. They called it the Gay Plague back then, you know? And I don't know what happened, but the next thing I remember I'd thrown my cigarette in his face, backed him against a wall, and was snarling "NO ONE has EVER deserved this" and you know. He never said anything like that around me again. I don't know if he changed his mind, but from that moment on, he knew that we were in the room with him, and that was enough to get him to keep his fucking mouth shut. The reason they want us scared is because they want to be able to pretend we're never in the room with them. They want to be able to count on our silence, on our cowering and hiding in self preservation. And I don't blame anyone who gives that because we're surviving here, that's not my place to decide for you. But that was the day I learned that I will NEVER allow them to pretend I'm not in the room again."

Criminalization is a form of liminal expulsion of the undesireable from the shared social perception/narrative. If they can imprison us for our basic existence, they can remove us from the room or make it more likely we hide in the shadows. But this is what we mean when we say that they cannot kill us in any way that matters. Every loss, every death matters, but so does every life lived in silence and shadow. And I cannot emphasize enough how many more of the latter there have been in the world.

So if they want to kill us, we will fill their world with the utopia of the love we find in the dark. If they want to banish us we will live out loud until even they can't escape us. If they want to erase our history, I will personally scream it from every rooftop I have access to.

Liminality is a weapon against us, but it has also always been ours more than it is theirs. We make it, breathe it, and change it with our very being. Never forget that you are the culmination of generations of love, life, and survival. We have seen enough attempts at genocide in the world now to know that the meaning of our lives is not what they make it possible to do to us but what we create to stop them.

If they do start rounding queers up it won’t be with the gestapo, but the police, and the crime won’t be written down as being queer, but public indecency, the indecency being queer in public, but that’s the quiet part no one will say out loud.

#i believe in us truly #i feel afraid a lot these days but i also know what to do about it #i am lucky to have grown up with this knowledge and know many lack it #but please talk to the older members of out community (NOT 30/40 yr olds like me on tumblr #fucking people in their 80s who were there in 65 in 72 in 53 #TALK TO THEM #they are still here and they have so much of value to give you

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aliceinborderlandsquidgame · 2 days ago

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Say it back | The Salesman x Wife!Reader |

Summary: Playing jokes with your husband its never a good idea.

Warnings: Obsession - Possessive!Salesman - Suggestive - Unhealthy relationship - Suggestive -

"I love you my Love, have a good day" The Salesman says kissing your lips, checking himself on the mirror one last time before going to the door.

And he stops.

Because the Salesman its a creature of habit. Morning routines have centrain aspects that cant be changed.

And one of them is getting a kiss from you and a "I love you back" before he opens the door to leave and meet the future unfortunated ones for the games.

But he hears nothing, just the soft music from your phone as you eat your breakfast.

The Salesman waits, one, two, up to three minutes.

He goes back to check if he did forgot something. Was this a special date ? No. Did you two have anything planned ? No. Did he do something drastic to you this morning? No.

He leans in front of you, turning the music off.

"My Love" He starts tone calm, way too calm. "I said I loved you"

"Yes, I did hear" Its your response "Can I get my phone back?" You ask him and when he puts it away and leaves his briefcase you know you have done it.

You fucked up.

"Dear wait-" You stand up trying to rasonate with him but he is not listening as he walks towards you like a predator. "I was just-"

You are cut off as he pushes you against on the wall hard. The air leaving your lungs for a moment. Your head does not hit the wall because his hand was in between.

"You were wait my Love?" He asks right into your ear his grip on your arm strong and possessive as his other one goes down caressing your side stopping at your hip. "Please enlight me on what you were doing" He says biting your neck softly

Maybe your brain did not register the threat tone his voice carries or maybe you wanted to see how much you could push him.

"I was having breakfast till you decided to get back and interrump me"

By the cold look he gives you and the shiver that runs down your spine thats both from exciment and fear you know you have made him mad.

"Oh, so you were doing that?" He asks, there is a warning there. He knows what you are doing and he is not liking it.

He takes your neck in one hand giving it a firm grip, its not enough to let yourself without air but enough for it to feel like a real warning and a danger. To let you know just as much as he can love you he can hurt you.

"I will give you a second chance" He says one hand cupping your core making you gasp "And if you answer like a good wife, the good one I know you are I will think on not being too...rough with you"

Maybe. Thats the last word his mind thinks.

"I- I was going to say that I loved you back but I forgot" You lie feeling one finger go inside your pants and past your undewear teasting you. "P-Please I just-"

But he does not believe you. He knows how to read people and hell, he knows how to read you. Part of you was made by him.

"You forgot?" He says adding pressure on your neck and his finger starting to go faster inside you "You forgot how much you love ? Tell me does this happen often ? Or did you wake up and decide to hurt my feelings today ?

He sees your cheeks go red and your breathing faster. He knows he has you were he wants you, but a part of him screams that you need to be punish.

"Should I cut the air your brain is getting and see if a little re start brings your intelligent self back?" He whispers over your lips as his grips turns harder and his finger faster.

Your foggy brain does register the danger and you are quick to say no, he urges you to continue talking.

"I was joking. I wanted to see your reaction if I did not say it back. Im sorry if I hurt your feelings" Tears forms, not from the pain but from the pleasure his finger is giving you, hitting that sweet spot inside you.

The Salesmab smirks at that. He kisses away your tears and gives you a sweet kiss as he lets go of your neck. At the same time he removes his finger form you sucking it clean keeping a intense eye contact as he does.

"Good girl, thats my lovely and intelligent wife" He says giving you another kiss, letting you prove yourself on his lips. But just as you were going to ask for permission he puts himself away from you.

"Keep the same clothes. Dont leave the house today and, you better wait for me on that needy state of you. If you touch yourself, I will know and Love you wont like what I will do, I promise you that"

He turns taking his briefcase back and looking at you over his shoulder.

"I love you my Love" He says once again starting to leave

"I love you too Dear, have a good day at work" You manage to say without suttering.

"Thanks Love, there is cream in the bathroom for your neck" He says before finally leaving the aparment.

Would he have choke you till you passed out ? Defenetly. Its a good thing you are a fast learner.

#squid game imagines #squid game x y/n #squid game imagine #squid game x reader #the salesman x reader #salesman x reader #recruiter x reader

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gdinthehouseee · 3 days ago

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Gentle: CHOI SEUNG-HYUN x READER

summary: you come home after a long day of work and seung-hyun takes care of you

word count: 1432

tags: fluff; extremely self-indulgent (you work as a film production assistant) kinda basic but i wrote this half-asleep

ao3 link

Another day at work meant another night of crashing as soon as the front door to your home shut behind you for the night—not after discarding your stuffy, professional clothes as soon as possible, of course. Today had been particularly difficult.

Being a production assistant meant the director felt entitled to bark orders at you left and right, the assistant directors acting all high and mighty, not to mention the producers with their ‘holier-than-thou’ attitudes. Your body weighed down by hours of standing, lifting, running back and forth under the harsh glare of the lighting rig; your muscles throb with a dull ache, your head foggy from the endless problem-solving and last-minute changes thrown your way. It was too much. All you want is to collapse—to let go of the tension gripping your shoulders, to shut your eyes and forget how long today dragged on.

The moment you step through the door, you feel like you’ll get your wish—to collapse. Every muscle in your body protests as you force yourself to toe off your shoes, your movements sluggish and drained. Before you can take another step, a warm hand catches your wrist.

“Hey.” Seung-hyun’s voice is soft but firm, his brows knitting together as he studies your face. “You look exhausted.”

You manage a small nod, but words feel like too much effort. Instead, you just let out a quiet sigh, your shoulders sagging. He doesn’t push for a response. Instead, he gently tugs you forward, wrapping his arms around you without hesitation. His hold is steady, grounding—one arm around your waist, the other smoothing up and down your back in slow, soothing strokes.

It breaks him a little to see you like this—to watch the way you barely manage to nod, too drained to even form words. He has always admired your dedication, your ability to push through anything, but right now, all he can see is how much it’s costing you. The dark circles under your eyes, the slump of your shoulders, the way you just melt into his arms as if you don’t have the strength to hold yourself up anymore. It isn’t fair. You work so hard, give so much, and yet, no one seems to notice how much it takes from you. But he notices. And he hates that he can’t take that exhaustion away, that all he can do is hold you and hope you’ll let him ease even a little of the weight pressing down on you.

“You’re overworking yourself again, aren’t you?” He murmurs, his voice low, laced with quiet concern. “You need to slow down, aein.”

You nod again against his chest, unable to argue—not because you don’t agree, but because you’re too tired to say anything at all. He exhales, his grip tightening just a little as if trying to absorb the weight you’re carrying.

“Alright,” he whispers, pressing a lingering kiss to the top of your head. “No more talking, no more thinking. Just let me take care of you tonight.”

And for the first time all day, you let yourself lean into the comfort he offers, too exhausted to do anything else.

He doesn’t say anything as he leads you into the bathroom, but his hand stays firm around yours, his thumb brushing soothing circles against your skin. The sound of rushing water fills the space as he leans over the tub, adjusting the temperature with practiced ease. Steam curls into the air, carrying the faint scent of lavender—calming, warm, inviting.

“You don’t have to do this,” you murmur, trying not to get emotional about how gentle he’s being with you.

He glances at you over his shoulder, his expression soft but unwavering. “I know,” he says simply. “But I want to.”

Once the bath is full, he turns back to you, his fingers moving to the hem of your shirt. He undresses you with a tenderness that makes your chest ache—not rushed, not expectant, just careful, making sure you move as little as possible. When you finally sink into the water, a long sigh slips from your lips, the warmth wrapping around your aching muscles like a promise. Then, he kneels beside the tub, rolling up his sleeves before reaching for the washcloth. He runs it over your skin with slow, deliberate strokes, tracing over your shoulders, your arms, down to your hands, his touch reverent. Every movement is delicate, as if he’s afraid of pressing too hard, of adding even the smallest bit of strain to your already exhausted body.

He reaches for the shampoo and tilts your head back slightly, his fingers threading through your hair with delicate attention. As he massages your scalp, working the lather in slow, rhythmic circles, warmth seeps into your bones, lulling you into a haze of exhaustion and comfort. His touch is so gentle, so methodical, that your eyelids grow heavy before you even realize it. Your breathing slows, your body sinking deeper into the water, and just as you start to drift off—

“Are you seriously falling asleep right now?”

Your eyes flutter open, and you blink up at him, still dazed. “…No.”

Seung-hyun smirks, clearly unconvinced. “Mhm, sure. That cute little head tilt? The way you just sighed? You were definitely about to pass out on me.” His fingers keep massaging slow circles against your scalp, his voice filled with quiet amusement. “Am I that relaxing?”

You groan, embarrassed, and attempt to sit up, but he gently presses you back into place. “Stay still,” he chides, still grinning. “I’m almost done.”

The moment you step out of the tub, he’s already waiting with a soft, oversized towel, wrapping it around you before you can even shiver. His hands move with quiet care, gently patting away the droplets clinging to your skin. He doesn’t rush, doesn’t push—just takes his time, making sure you’re warm and comfortable.

“You’re like a sleepy kitten,” he murmurs with a small smile, watching as you sway slightly in exhaustion. “Barely standing on your own.”

You hum in response, too tired to argue, and he chuckles, wrapping an arm around you to steady you. “Alright, let’s get you dressed before you collapse on me.”

He then leads you to the bedroom, where a set of warm pajamas is already laid out on the bed—your softest pair, the one you always reach for when you need comfort. He helps you into them with the same quiet attentiveness, guiding your arms through the sleeves, pulling the fabric over your shoulders, making sure you don’t have to lift a finger.

Once you’re dressed, he sits you down on the edge of the bed, positioning himself behind you as he grabs a towel and starts drying your hair. His fingers comb through the damp strands with gentle precision, his touch slow and methodical. Every now and then, he ruffles your hair playfully, just to hear you mumble a sleepy protest.

“You’re going to fall asleep on me again, aren’t you?” He teases, amusement lacing his voice.

“No,” you grumble, but your body betrays you, leaning into his touch, eyelids fluttering.

“Let’s get you comfy, then.”

Without another word, he lifts you effortlessly, carrying you over to the bed. He settles you beneath the blankets before climbing in beside you, pulling you against his chest as he reaches for the remote.

“Movie night,” he announces, keeping his voice low, soothing.

“I’m not sure I even wanna think about movies right now,” you partially joked.

“With the way you keep almost falling asleep, I bet you’ll barely last ten minutes.” He returned with a soft laugh.

You try to huff in protest, but as the warmth of his embrace surrounds you and the soft glow of the screen flickers in the dimly lit room, you know he’s right. Honestly? Who could really blame you for falling asleep in your sweetheart-of-a-boyfriend’s arms after he’s taken such attentive care of you? He spent the entire night making sure you felt nothing but comfort, from the way he washed your hair to the way he dressed you in your coziest pajamas, to the way he’s holding you now—safe, cherished, adored. His fingers absentmindedly trace gentle patterns along your back, his heartbeat a steady rhythm beneath your ear. The exhaustion that once weighed you down now feels lighter, replaced by something softer, something sweeter. And as your lashes flutter shut, you swear you hear him murmur something against your temple—something tender, something that makes your heart melt even as sleep finally pulls you under.

taglist: @thanosscrossmain @maskedcrawford @mirahyun @riddlerloveb0t @onyxmango @sherrayyyyy @seunghyunwifey

#choi seunghyun #choi seunghyun x reader #bigbang #bigbang x reader #t.o.p x reader #t.o.p bigbang #t.o.p #fluff #ao3 link #ao3 writer #ao3 #kpop #kpop x reader

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lovelymylene · 3 days ago

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happy VALENTINE

70s teenage dirtbag hamzah and reader

The radio hummed low and warm, a crackling thread of music weaving through the quiet of the car. Hamzah’s fingers tapped absently against the steering wheel, rings clicking against the worn leather, but his mind wasn’t on the road, wasn’t on much of anything except the girl beside him, laughing softly at something he said five minutes ago.

The car smelled like her perfume, like jasmine and something sweet, mingling with the faintest trace of cigarette smoke and the lilies resting in her lap. She had been staring at them ever since he gave them to her, running delicate fingers along the petals, like she couldn’t believe they were hers.

“Didn’t think I was the type, huh?” he had teased when she first saw the flowers, the stuffed bunny, the little box of chocolate-covered strawberries from his cousin’s bakery.

“No, I just didn’t think you’d actually try this hard,” she smirked, but there had been something softer in her eyes, something he recognized.

Hamzah had never cared much for Valentine’s Day. It always seemed like a scam, a way for people to convince themselves they were in love for the price of a heart-shaped box. But her? She changed things. If she wanted lilies and chocolate and soft things wrapped in ribbons, then he’d give her all of it. He’d give her more.

So now, they were nowhere. Just a stretch of road fading into darkness, the distant hum of the city swallowed by trees and open sky. He pulled off onto a hill, parking beneath a massive oak tree, its branches twisting against the stars.

“Is this what you do with all your dates?” she teased, turning to face him.

“Nah,” he grinned, leaning back against his seat, hands loose in his lap. “Just you.”

Her smile wavered, just for a second, but he caught it. She didn’t know how to take it when he was sincere, when he let his guard slip. He kind of liked that.

The car ticked softly as the engine cooled, the wind slipping through the cracked windows. She peeled open the box of strawberries, picking one up and holding it to her lips before pausing. “You sure you don’t want one?”

“I got ‘em for you, sweetheart. Knock yourself out.”

She rolled her eyes, biting into the fruit, the chocolate cracking softly under her teeth. Hamzah watched her, eyes half-lidded, something lazy and fond resting in his gaze.

“Alright, now you gotta try one,” she insisted, plucking another from the box and holding it out for him.

He smirked, leaning forward, but instead of taking it from her fingers, he just bit into it, teeth gently biting her fingertips.

She gasped, pulling her hand back. “Hamzah!”

“What?” he mumbled through a mouthful of chocolate, eyes twinkling with mischief.

“You’re an idiot.”

“Yeah,” he swallowed, licking his lips, “but you like me.”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t argue.

The music played on, soft and unintrusive, some old soul song he didn’t know the name of. Outside, the world stretched on in every direction, but inside the car, it was just them.

He reached for her hand without thinking, just feeling the need to touch, to hold. She let him, fingers curling easily around his.

“You’re warm,” she murmured.

“You always say that.”

“Because you always are.”

She turned to him, fully now, shifting so one leg tucked beneath her. The moonlight poured in through the windshield, catching in her eyes, making them gleam.

“You’re staring,” she whispered.

“Yeah,” his voice was lower now, rougher. “What about it?”

She didn’t answer, just tugged on his collar, pulling him in, slow and unhurried. Their lips met in a kiss that started soft but deepened quickly, something languid and melting, like heat unfurling in the cold night air. His hand found the side of her face, thumb tracing the curve of her cheek, while her fingers slipped into his hair, tugging, teasing.

He sighed into her mouth, pulling her closer, like he could fold her into himself, keep her there. The world outside didn’t exist. Just her lips, her breath, the way she tasted like chocolate and strawberries and something he could never quite name.

“You really didn’t have to do all this,” she murmured against his lips.

“I know,” he whispered, kissing her again, softer this time. “But I wanted to.”

@issysh3ll

Happy Valentine’s Day my loves🎀

taglist.. @italiansunsetss @b1gba113r @sylvanianngirl @st7rnioioss-alt @sincerelykelsss @throatgoat4u @wiseladypoetry @gracieabrmslvr @sweetangelgirl7 @pearlzier @1-hypegvrl @piperrrr-16 @mackyyyk @luna443 @flowerxbunnie @cwemetrys @calliepie @cupidsword @notaboutlovebyfiona @recklesssturniolo @littlebookworm803 @blissfulxsins @camsturnz @st7rnioioss @rempessturniolo

#fanfic #70s #fiction #headcanon #oneshot #hamzahthefanatasticxreader #hamzah fluff #martin and hamzah #hamzah fic #hamzah imagines #hamzahthefantastic #hamzah x reader

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jmercedesd · 3 days ago

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My parents were pretty open about what letting me read what I wanted as a kid, too. I was reading the Shannara Chronicles by Terry Brooks and Stephen's Donaldson's "Order of Mordant's Need" series at 12. Dad even offered to let me read a fictional retelling of the Trail of Tears (cannot remember the author and a search didn't turn up anything familiar), which was a doorstopper and absolutely would have changed my life if I'd been up for anything remotely touching reality at that age.

The only one they discouraged me from reading was Donaldson's Thomas Covenant series and HOO BOY, knowing what I know now about the contents of that series, I'm glad they did! But they didn't FORBID me, just strongly advised that it would be very dark and unhappy.

I keep seeing aggressive "don't let kids read Wicked, it's inappropriate!!!" posts, and they're deeply irritating.

Would I recommend the novel to a random 12 year old I don't know? Probably not! But I first read Wicked at 12, and it's not like it permanently scarred me. It's not like I couldn't follow the plot. I didn't understand all the sociopolitical and religious commentary at 12, but that's why I went on to re-read it multiple times throughout my life. I get more from it each time.

There's sex and violence, yes, but I knew what sex was at 12, and I was seeing violence and war on the news every day. Why's the fictional sex and violence worse? Why should a kid not challenge themself with a book outside their comfort zone? Every kid deserves the chance to wig themselves out with a weird book they don't fully understand yet, and Wicked was mine.

My wife is very fond of a Mitch Hedberg quote I think is relevant here: "Every book is a children's book, if the kid can read."

(Also I think it's weird that people fixate on the puppet sex and the BDSM club, and not the parts where Elphaba bashes someone's skull in, or Turtle Heart gets lynched, or the soldiers abduct Fiyero's entire family as political prisoners. The "sex is evil, violence is fine" moral panic is eternal.)

#books #reading

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alsofoundinpeas · 2 days ago

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Dinner for Two(ish)

Summary: Since the beginning of your relationship, you and Spencer have made it a tradition to share a candlelit dinner at home every Valentine's Day. But this year, the evening has a surprise guest—one who’s about to change everything.

CONTENT WARNINGS: (While this fic itself isn't explicit content, my blog is 18+ so please keep this in mind!!) Mentions of past infertility issues. Pregnancy announcement. Both reader and Spencer cry but it's happy tears!! Established relationship. Fluff <3 (I think that's all but feel free to let me know if there are any I should add!)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader/afab!reader

A/N: Happy Valentine's Day my angels!! <3 This is way different than my usual fics so I hope you guys like it :') I figured something short and sweet (not a Sabrina reference but still giggling) would be best for today. I did try a different writing style instead of using Y/N so any feedback would be greatly appreciated! I also have a requested fic coming out Sunday or Monday that I'm excited for you guys to read <3 As always, please tell me what you think! If you enjoy it, please like, reblog, and share it with your friends :) Thank you and I love you all!!

Nerves wrack your body as you pace the kitchen, your heart pounding so hard you swore it was bound to leap right out of your ribcage if you were to stop moving.

Spencer called a few minutes ago to let you know he was on his way home, leaving you with almost an hour to set everything up for his surprise. You’d kept the call brief and kept your voice even so he wouldn’t suspect anything—a surprising feat, considering your body was (and still is) trembling like a leaf caught in a windstorm. In a way, you were thankful he’d had back-to-back cases recently.

Despite missing him so much it ached and worrying about him every second you were awake (and even in your subconscious as you slept), Spencer being away so often made keeping your secret much easier.

The wedding ring on your finger spun endlessly as you continued to fidget with it—a nervous habit that you’d picked up the second Spencer slid it on. A glance at the clock on the stove told you he’d be home in roughly five minutes. A shaky sigh filled the air as you attempted to swallow your nerves, lighting the candles you’d set up on the dining table and fixing your plates with the food you spent over an hour preparing because everything had to be perfect for tonight.

The familiar sound of keys jingling and the lock turning sent your blood rushing through your veins, humming beneath your skin in an excited current as you wait for your husband to open the door.

Spencer stepped inside, wearing an exhausted smile and holding a bouquet of the most beautiful flowers he could find last minute before the florist down the street closed their shop. His face lit up at the sight of the candlelit dinner, the crinkles around his eyes making your nerves settle just a little. It reminded you that the man in front of you was the love of your life, and that, despite how scary it felt, everything would be just fine.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, sweetheart,” he murmured as he made his way over to you, pulling you into a tight but mindful hug so that he didn’t crush your flowers. "Dinner smells amazing. You spoil me."

A soft laugh escaped your lips as you waved a hand dismissively, pressing a tender kiss to his before taking the flowers to put them in a vase. "You don’t need to butter me up, Spence. I’m already your wife," you teased, though your cheeks flushed at the compliment.

"Something I’m grateful for every day," Spencer said with sincerity, moving behind you to wrap his arms around you and place a soft kiss on the top of your head.

After arranging the flowers in the vase and setting them on the table, the two of you sat down to eat. As you picked at your food, Spencer noticed you nervously fidgeting with your ring. His brow furrowed in concern as he wondered what could possibly be making you so anxious. Finally, he set his fork down, unable to stay quiet any longer.

"Honey, what's wrong? What's got you so worked up?"

His voice caught your attention, causing you to glance up from where you were gathering another bite onto your fork. Your teeth dug into your lower lip as you averted your gaze, contemplating waiting until the both of you were done eating or just telling him right now so you could get it out of the way. With a deep breath, you decided on the latter, letting your fork hit the plate with a soft clink as you cleared your throat.

"I...um. I actually have a present for you this year. Stay right here," you whispered as you got up, ignoring his protests as you hurried into your shared bedroom to grab the small box you'd put together for him. The box couldn't have been more than half a pound at most, but its contents had you feeling like you were carrying the weight of the world in your hands—and technically, you were.

Spencer eyed you skeptically as you returned, his gaze immediately dropping to the box as you placed it in front of him. "Sweetheart, I've told you that the dinner is more than enough for me—"

"Just open it," you urged, gesturing for him to go ahead with a quick, impatient motion from where you stood beside him.

A surprised chuckle escaped him as he raised his hands in mock surrender. "Okay, okay! Sorry." His fingers fumbled with the red ribbon, unwinding it carefully as he slowly lifted the lid. You kept your eyes fixed on his face, anxiously watching for his reaction as he peered inside.

Inside was a tiny onesie with Baby Reid printed in delicate cursive, accompanied by an ultrasound photo and the three positive tests you’d taken (because you hadn’t quite believed the first one).

Spencer stared down at the items in complete shock, his mouth opening and closing for a moment before he glanced up at you. "W-we're having a baby?" His voice trembled, his eyes welling with tears at the realization.

For more than a year, you and Spencer had been trying to conceive, with him meticulously tracking your cycle and researching every possible method to increase your chances. But each time, you were met with heartache and disappointment, tossing negative test after negative test into the trash. Eventually, you both resigned yourselves to the reality that, as much as you longed for a baby of your own, it might not be in the cards.

You’d never been happier to be wrong in your life.

Nodding your head, tears began to well in your own eyes as you flashed him a watery smile. "We're having a baby, Spence."

Before you could even process what was happening, he was up and kneeling in front of you, his hands gently cradling your stomach as tears began to fall. A choked laugh escaped him as he looked up at you, eyes wide with awe. "We're having a baby," he whispered again, pressing a tender kiss to your stomach despite the barely-there bump—just over eight weeks along.

The sight made your heart swell, one hand instinctively wiping away his tears, even as your own continued to fall. The other hand rested gently beside his on your stomach. And as you watched your husband speak softly to your unborn baby, you couldn’t help but feel that everything you’d ever wanted was finally right there, just beneath your fingertips.

Continued A/N's: AHHH this got posted a little later than intended because I kept coming back to edit HAHA but I truly hope you guys enjoyed this as much as I did. I truly believe that man deserved a happy ending with baby geniuses of his own and this is my way of coping :') BUTTTT thank you so much for reading and Happy Valentine's Day again <3

REMINDER: I do NOT give permission for my work to be re-uploaded to any other platforms (c.ai, TikTok, ao3, etc.) under any circumstances. If you'd like to translate my work, then please ask me before doing so. I know it sounds whiny, but I (as well as many other fanfic writers) spend so much time on these and it's genuinely not okay to take credit for work that isn't yours. It's insulting and completely unnecessary. If I do see my work uploaded anywhere without explicit permission, I WILL say something.

#Spencer Reid fanfic #Spencer Reid fanfiction #Spencer Reid fluff #Spencer Reid x fem!reader #Spencer Reid x you #Spencer Reid x self insert #Spencer Reid x reader #Spencer Reid fic #Criminal Minds fanfic #Criminal Minds fluff

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souliebird · 2 days ago

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[[and then I met you || Ch. 32]]

Series: Daredevil || Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader || Rating: Explicit

Summary:

A one-night stand years ago gave you a daughter and you are now able to put a name to her father – Matthew Murdock. Everything is about to change again as you navigate trying to integrate your life with that of the handsome and charming blind lawyer’s and Matt realizes he needs to not only protect his new family from Hell's Kitchen, but from the world.

chapter masterlist

Words: 3k🌶️

ao3 link

The billboard across the street shifts from casting a blue glow into Matt’s apartment to a warm purple one. It is bright enough for you to be able to see your keyboard, but low enough that everything is still in shadow. You can maneuver around easily enough, which makes it the perfect level considering you are apparently the only one in your family who needs light to do so.

Paired with the overall lack of decor, it fosters a nice working environment, with the ambience of the city providing the perfect background noise.

You have a fair bit of invoicing to catch up on, so you have set yourself up at the dining table as Matt readies himself for his own night of working. Luckily, all the excitement of temporarily moving into a new place left your little Mouse exhausted and getting her down to sleep was as easy as it has ever been. You wish you would be able to go off to Dreamland as quickly as she does, but you know your brain won’t let you drift off without hours and hours of worrying first.

“You don’t need to wait up for me,” Matt says for about the millionth time. He’s changed mostly into his red Devil suit, and it still baffles you how different he looks in it versus his Lawyer suit. It is like he’s been possessed or switched out with a twin - it’s not necessarily evil but it is a completely different aura. All his fun and charm has been replaced with a caged animal ready to rip someone’s throat out, and you just happen to be his keeper who he knows isn’t a threat. He’s of no danger to you, but anyone outside these walls is fair game.

“I have about forty emails to answer and even more orders to review and this is the only time I’ll be able to sit down and focus on doing all that. These are my working hours, too,” you reply as you finish connecting your VPN. “Plus, I’ll be up worrying until you are home safe. Killing two birds with one stone.”

“No killing anything,” he chides, his voice dropping an octave. It sends a pleasant shiver up your spine, and you are starting to think you may like this Devil-y side of Matt.

“You know I can’t even kill a cockroach.”

He huffs from across the room, then in a few long strides, he’s behind you, putting his large, gloved hands on your shoulders and rubbing at them, “I mean it. If you finish before I’m back, try to get some sleep. You need it.”

You let your head fall forward and enjoy the way his thumbs dig into your muscles. “I need to make sure I get my work hours logged. When you get home, we can both get some sleep.”

Behind you, a pleased rumble comes from Matt’s chest. He bends forward and nuzzles just above your ear, whispering in that deep voice that makes your core clench, “call it ‘home’ again.”

Your eyes flutter shut as your entire being heats up again. It isn’t just his voice and actions - it's the implication of his request - that he wants a home with you. He wants your home to be here with him. You can’t even take a moment to think about it, because you just want to please the Devil behind you.

“Come home to us.”

He buries his nose into your hair and inhales deeply while his hands tighten on your shoulders. He nods after a moment, then you feel him have to force himself to step away.

“I’ll always come home to you. I swear on my life.”

You resist the urge to follow after him and say something cheesy or dramatic. You stay planted in your seat instead, eyes still closed and breathing through your nose, trying to calm your fast beating heart.

Matt strides back to where his gloves and helmet wait for him, and you listen as he dons the last pieces of his armor. Only when he has fully become the Devil do you let yourself speak again, hoping to encourage the beast coming to life inside of him.

“Keep the Kitchen safe. For me. For Minnie.”

----

It’s closing in on three am when you hear the crunch of boots on gravel coming from the roof above you. You expected Matt to be home closer to one in the morning, but that was just a time you made up.

Your emails are still on your screen, so you close them out and clock out just as the door on the landing opens and the Devil returns to the apartment. There is a duffel bag slung over his shoulder, and you scrunch up your nose in confusion as he makes his way down the stairs.

“I thought you would be asleep by now,” he growls out and you can instantly tell the poor man is exhausted.

You are up and out of your seat in an instant, making your way to him with your water bottle in hand. You hold it out to him as he comes to a stop in front of you and he quickly drops the bag to his feet in exchange for chugging the rest of your water.

“I told you I had a lot of work. Are you okay? What is with the - “You cut yourself off as the light coming from the billboard changes from red to yellow and you see there is a slice of suit missing from Matt’s arm. “You’re hurt!”

You don’t give him the chance to deny or explain - you turn and hurry back to the kitchen to get the first aid kit.

“I’m fine,” he grumbles from behind you. You hear something thunk on the ground and assume it is his helmet. “It went through and through.”

The words take a second to process and color drains from your face as they do. “You were shot?”

“I’m fine,” he insists, a small hint of annoyance in his voice. “I just need to wrap it.”

You yoink the first aid kit down from where it’s hidden in a cabinet and whirl back around the face Matt. He’s removed his helmet and gloves and is in the process of taking off his boots. Your mind swirls into overdrive, flying back to your binder pages about gunshot wounds and you find yourself huffing at the Devil as practicality fills you.

“Wrap it?” You almost scold as you march back to him. His head jerks up and his brows furrow, but your Mom Mentality is quicker than the Devil. “You can’t just wrap it; it needs to be cleaned and disinfected. Who knows what is dripping off your suit into it. You can’t punch away an infection, Matt.”

His face slackens into confusion as you move to squat in front of him so you can open the kit and begin to rummage through it.

“What..?”

“I need to clean it,” you repeat as you inspect the meager contents of the kit. “And disinfect it. I’m not very good at stitches yet, but you have butterfly stripes,” you hold up the pack as you find it and continue your rambling, “and gauze, so we can wrap it, and hopefully that should be good enough. Do you know what caliber it was? Was it a hollow point?”

He doesn’t answer you right away, and you assume he is trying to remember what happened. You focus on reading the different packets you pick up, setting aside wipes and antibiotic ointments. If it was through and through, you shouldn’t have to get out any debris, but you add the tweezers to your pile anyway. Your mind is a step-by-step checklist of everything you need and you really hope all your studying has prepared you for your first real wound cleaning. You are a pro at scraped knees and paper cuts, but a bullet wound is a completely different level.

“What?” Matt repeats and you look up to see he looks completely dumbfounded. “You…aren’t angry?”

It is your turn to be confused.

“Why…would I be angry?” you ask slowly, trying to understand why he is asking. “You..didn’t mean to get shot, did you?” He shakes his head slowly, and your lips turn down into a frown. “Then..I’m not angry.”

You slowly sit yourself down and cross your legs, trying to process your own feelings around your Fix It and Make Things Better thoughts, “I’m scared that you got hurt. And I’m worried..I worry about you every night when you go out, but this…this is small, right? It’s through and through and in your arm and you aren’t bleeding everywhere, and you are standing on your own. You’re…you’re okay. You’re hurt. You’re hurt. But you’re okay…you’re okay and I just need to make sure you stay okay.” Tears start to prick at the corners of your eyes, and you shake your head to chase them away. “Please let me make sure you are okay.”

Slowly, Matt kneels in front of you and takes your face in his hands. He thumbs away a tear that managed to escape before leaning in to press his forehead to yours.

“I’m okay,” he whispers, the Devil gone from his voice, and he sounds so so tired. “I’m okay, my darling. Let me get out of this and you can clean it, yeah? Then we can go to bed.”

You press into his touch, needing it to ground you and help you keep your emotions in check.

Matt’s hurt, but he is okay. It’s just a little wound, something you can handle. You know he is going to get hurt, going out and acting as a vigilante, and it isn’t always going to be bruises and split knuckles.

People shoot at him. They try to stab him. They might have weird fire breath or laser beams.

He’s going to get hurt, but right now he is okay. He just needs to be patched up and that is something you can do.

You’ve been practicing and studying to make sure he will stay okay.

You take a shaky breath and center yourself, then let your lips turn up into a small smile, “You’re all sweaty, you need a shower before bed. Or Minnie will complain that you are stinky in the morning.”

Matt huffs a small laugh and tips his head up to kiss your forehead. “Well, according to her my whole apartment is stinky and dusty and cold.”

“That’s why we are playing housekeeper tomorrow,” you whisper as he pulls away.

You allow yourself to wipe your eyes with your nightshirt as Matt removes the rest of his armor, leaving him in just his boxers. You then focus on double checking all the items you’ve gathered, letting your mind go back into Practical mode versus Emotional.

“Why do you have a duffel bag?” you finally ask, curious as to what he had been up to all night and why he has a new accessory.

Matt gives a quiet groan, then begins to explain as he sits himself in front of you. “I found an abandoned…lab is the only way I can put it, in one of the utility tunnels. I guess it got flooded out with all the rain and whoever was running it was clearing it out. When I got there, there was only one guy.” As he talks, you begin to clean his wounds, and you are not surprised at how stoic he remains despite the stinging of antiseptics. “I think he was just grabbing files, and that is what is in the bag. Paper files and what I think are thumb drives. I’m not too sure.”

You look up in time to see him turn his lips down into a hard scowl. “The whole place reeked of human blood, though. Not fresh - stale. And there were cages. It was just a few rooms, but someone was definitely up to no good down there.” He flexes his fingers, then says your name softly. “I think it was some sort of government agency. The gun the guy had was standard issue for the FBI and the way he moved was in line with their training, but it didn’t feel like the FBI. It felt more advanced and after everything with Fisk I don’t think they’d try something twice here so close together. But in my gut, it’s telling me this isn’t something like the Hand or something underground.”

You turn to look at the simple bag laying on the floor, your heart sinking as you take it in. You trust Matt’s gut with this - this is not his first rodeo, and he has so much more information about all of this than you ever will.

“Do you want me to read them for you?”

He shakes his head, “No. Well.. yes, but no. I think this is something I need to take to everyone - Foggy, Karen, Frank, Jessica. Another piece of the puzzle of what has been going on lately. I think we all have different parts, and we need to start looking at what fits together.” He pauses, rolls his lip between his teeth. “I’d like for you to be there, too..if you’d like. I don’t want to keep you in the dark. You aren’t out there, like we are but..I’m dragging you into this just by being with you. I…”

He stops, and turns to fully face you, pulling his bicep from your grasp so he can cup your jaw with his other hand. He runs his thumb over your lips.

“I can’t risk losing you. If you being in the know and understanding everything that is going on is what is going to keep you safe - keep Minnie safe - then I can’t lie to you and I can’t hide anything. But I need you to understand that there is a risk of knowing what lurks in the shadows. It is your choice; I want it to be your choice. I need you to be okay, too.”

You don't need to let the words turn over in your mind - you know your answer. “I want to be there. I want to help, even if it is just helping you talk through things. You don’t need to hide things from me. I…I understand what you are doing.” You mimic him and reach to cup his cheek, rubbing your thumb so lightly over his lower lip. “I just want you to be safe, Matt. I want you to come home at night.”

You purposefully use the word, knowing it triggered a reaction before.

It does again.

His eyes flutter close, and he kisses your finger gently.

“I’ll always come back to you,” he breathes out before swallowing thickly. You watch his Adam’s apple bob in his throat, and you wonder if he wants to say more.

Do you want him to say more?

You don’t know.

You don’t know and you don’t want to think about it.

“Okay,” he whispers as you hand drops, and he turns so you can apply butterfly strips to the holes in his bicep.

You just want Matt to be safe and right now that means finishing wrapping his bicep. You let your thumb linger on his lip for a moment before pulling away, “I’m almost done with your arm. I..I think it doesn’t need stitches. Everything here should be plenty.”

You let your mind fall back to your guides as you wrap the gauze, mentally picturing exactly what you need to do while also making mental notes about directions you need to change and products you need to buy to fill out Matt’s first aid kit. While he has apparently been so much better at taking care of himself, his supplies are a bit lacking.

As you finish, you hesitate before leaning in and placing a small kiss over the entrance wound, mumbling as you do, “Minnie would admonish me if I didn’t add a kissie for extra healing.”

“She is the Doctor,” Matt replies gently, and you can’t help but smile.

You start to repack the first aid kit as Matt pushes up into standing to gather his own gear. You both clean in a comfortable silence and only once everything is put away, does Matt come back to you.

“Shower with me?” He asks, his voice soft and low and your whole body quivers for him.

You don’t reply with words. You take his offered hand, and he leads you to the small room.

The two of you can barely fit in the shower together, but it doesn’t matter. As soon as you are under the water, you are one.

Matt cups your jaw with both hands as he kisses you like he is savoring every microsecond. It is slow and languid, and you melt together so easily. Your hands are in his hair, pulling his closer, like you want to absorb him because maybe you do. Maybe you want him to absorb you, because you are safe in his arms, and nothing will ever hurt you or make you cry if he is there.

You have Matt Murdock, and you have the Devil and he has you.

You don’t know if it's hours or minutes or days that pass before one callused hand drops to your thigh and with the lightest of touches, urges it up. Once it is around his waist, Matt rocks forward and slides into you with no resistance.

His pumps are as slow as his kisses and you lose yourself in him. If you could think, you would imagine he is lost in you as well, but the only thing on your mind is the pleasure he is bringing you and how perfectly full you feel.

His name is falling from your lips over and over, breathless and needy, but not for a release - just for him and it is like he knows that. His head drops to your shoulder, and he buries his nose into your throat, his lips moving in words barely heard above the spray of the shower.

Your name.

Mine.

Yours.

Perfect.

Please.

God.

Love.

((“I love you.”))

((“I love you, too.”))

---

:) <3

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#soulie writes #fanfiction #and then i met you #matt murdock x reader #daredevil #matt murdock x you

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