#Loving Valentine Couple Images

[javs-arts]

✨VALENTINES YCH✨ (Fashion magazine edition)

FLAT: $35

SHADED: $50

PAYPAL ONLY

-The samples are for reference only and the gender and body of any of the bases can be changed

-Will update in every phase of the commission: Sketch, lineart, flat and shading

-Remember to specify which one (1, 2 or 3) base you want!

-DELIVERED BEFORE FEBRUARY 14TH

-DM me on Vgen https://vgen.co/Javsarts

[misbh]

Stronger Together Personalized Mug.

When they’re around, nothing else matters. Let them know how much they mean to you with this sweet Valentine’s Day gift. A Ceramic Mug with a heart-shaped handle that holds a sweet message ‘Together is our favourite place to be’. Personalize it with a name and it’s sure to strike the right chords.

[shivqcom]

[80] Best New Valentine’s Day Week Images 4K HD (2024):

Embracing Love’s Embrace, Captivating Valentine’s Day Week Images to Set Your Heart Aglow:

A tangible sense of love and affection permeates the air as February unfolds its romantic tapestry and Valentine’s Day Week draws near. This magical week offers a symphony of emotions that extends beyond a single day, culminating in a love crescendo on Valentine’s Day. This post takes us on a visual tour of Valentine’s Day Week Images, with each frame serving as a tribute to the various ways that love is expressed throughout this unique time of year.

See More Click Here 👉 https://www.shivq.com/80-best-new-valentines-day-week-images-4k-hd-2024/

[nasa]

Love Letters from Space

Love is in the air, and it’s out in space too! The universe is full of amazing chemistry, cosmic couples held together by gravitational attraction, and stars pulsing like beating hearts.

Celestial objects send out messages we can detect if we know how to listen for them. Our upcoming Nancy Grace Roman Space Telescope will help us scour the skies for all kinds of star-crossed signals.

Celestial Conversation Hearts

Communication is key for any relationship – including our relationship with space. Different telescopes are tuned to pick up different messages from across the universe, and combining them helps us learn even more. Roman is designed to see some visible light – the type of light our eyes can see, featured in the photo above from a ground-based telescope – in addition to longer wavelengths, called infrared. That will help us peer through clouds of dust and across immense stretches of space.

Other telescopes can see different types of light, and some detectors can even help us study cosmic rays, ghostly neutrinos, and ripples in space called gravitational waves.

Intergalactic Hugs

This visible and near-infrared image from the Hubble Space Telescope captures two hearts locked in a cosmic embrace. Known as the Antennae Galaxies, this pair’s love burns bright. The two spiral galaxies are merging together, igniting the birth of brand new baby stars.

Stellar nurseries are often very dusty places, which can make it hard to tell what’s going on. But since Roman can peer through dust, it will help us see stars in their infancy. And Roman’s large view of space coupled with its sharp, deep imaging will help us study how galaxy mergers have evolved since the early universe.

Cosmic Chemistry

Those stars are destined to create new chemistry, forging elements and scattering them into space as they live, die, and merge together. Roman will help us understand the cosmic era when stars first began forming. The mission will help scientists learn more about how elements were created and distributed throughout galaxies.

Did you know that U and I (uranium and iodine) were both made from merging neutron stars? Speaking of which…

Fatal Attraction

When two neutron stars come together in a marriage of sorts, it creates some spectacular fireworks! While they start out as stellar sweethearts, these and some other types of cosmic couples are fated for devastating breakups.

When a white dwarf – the leftover core from a Sun-like star that ran out of fuel – steals material from its companion, it can throw everything off balance and lead to a cataclysmic explosion. Studying these outbursts, called type Ia supernovae, led to the discovery that the expansion of the universe is speeding up. Roman will scan the skies for these exploding stars to help us figure out what’s causing the expansion to accelerate – a mystery known as dark energy.

Going Solo

Plenty of things in our galaxy are single, including hundreds of millions of stellar-mass black holes and trillions of “rogue” planets. These objects are effectively invisible – dark objects lost in the inky void of space – but Roman will see them thanks to wrinkles in space-time.

Anything with mass warps the fabric of space-time. So when an intervening object nearly aligns with a background star from our vantage point, light from the star curves as it travels through the warped space-time around the nearer object. The object acts like a natural lens, focusing and amplifying the background star’s light.

Thanks to this observational effect, which makes stars appear to temporarily pulse brighter, Roman will reveal all kinds of things we’d never be able to see otherwise.

Roman is nearly ready to set its sights on so many celestial spectacles. Follow along with the mission’s build progress in this interactive virtual tour of the observatory, and check out these space-themed Valentine’s Day cards.

Make sure to follow us on Tumblr for your regular dose of space!

[yandere-wishes]

.ᐟ𖹭~ Ciao Amore ~𖹭.ᐟ

⭒⌒★ Yandere!Batfamily x CatFam!Reader ★⌒⭒

゜。♡ 𝐻𝑜𝓌 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓎 𝓈𝓅𝑒𝓃𝒹 𝒱𝒶𝓁𝑒𝓃𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑒'𝓈 𝒟𝒶𝓎 ♡ ｡ ゜

✗♡✗♡✗♡✗♡✗♡✗♡✗♡✗♡✗♡✗♡✗♡✗♡✗♡✗♡✗

𓆩☾𓆪 Nightwing - Dick Grayson | بالشب - دیک گریسون

Dick kisses each candy heart before pushing it past your lips. His smile is saccharine, the lite of his voice pure sugar. His presence gives you cavities. You thought you'd run away from him, freed yourself from your nocturnal life. But here he is again pinning you to your couch as he gives you your valentine.

His sweetness sinks into you, pushing through your bones until you feel him rotting your marrow. Even the bonbons in your mouth taste of him, you swallow each one while looking into his perfect midsummer eyes. He pauses on the last candy, slips it into his tongue before kissing you, he guides the blue heart into your mouth along with every ounce of devotion his body holds. Be mine the candy reads.

Be mine

❀࿔ Red Hood - Jason Todd | نقاب سرخ - جیسون تاد

You are a narcotic laying heavy upon his tongue, plaguing his brain with your essence, your image glimmering within every vertiginous thought. Jason pulls you closer strong hands grasping at your bones. You can feel the frenetic beat of his reanimated heart, it almost seems to scream 'I love you'. He falls to the ground taking you with him, he won't leave you ever again, no matter what you must die with him. Your legs straddle his lap, forehead resting on his. He has full control of you, maneuvering your body how he deems fit. His lips trace the curve of your neck and shoulder.

There's a dreadful chill creeping up your spine, skin sizzling under every kiss, you can't move, can't breathe. When you open your eyes again he's still there, Jason is always there. Red shadow following your every move until he has you locked away between his arms. He's like poison flooding your veins, killing you slowly, softly, and dubbing every ache 'love'. Slowly his lips ghost over yours, locking too suddenly, you're drowning again.

All while Jason is high off you.

´ཀ` Arkham Knight - Jason Todd | سلحشور آرکام - جیسون تاد

You look so cute like this his precious little pet curled up on his bed. The Arkham Knight stalks forward his shadow rattling you from your light slumber. You whimper miserably pulling the covers closer to your bruised frame. Poor little kitty cat he thinks mesmerized by the sheer fright glistening in your eyes. "It's Valentine's Day you know" his synthesized voice bellows. He's sitting on the bed now, too close, iron-clad fingers patting your head, fingers lacing roughly through matted hair. "Since we're a couple now, I guess I got to get you something."

You hiss, pulling back, you really are a cat he realizes, a pretty little housecat who's strayed too far from home. The switchblade slides from his wrist, he taps it lovingly against your lips. He doesn't fail to notice your exhausted sigh as he carves a heart intercepting your collarbone. His thumb pinches your cheek, all boyish hijinks and remnants of puppy dog love. This is correct he thinks finally you are his, all his.

Mine Mine Mine

｡♦｡ Red Robin - Tim Drake | رابین قرمز- تیم دریک

There are matrices inside your eyes, celestial stars dancing between each blink. Tim watches as you click on his email, pretty face illuminated by the computer screen. ILOVEYOU the email reads, blue bold strokes dulling under your curser, you make the reckless mistake of clicking, of forgetting how potent three simple words can be. Your screens flicker, bleeding Red Robin red, candied words flood the screen. I Love You.

Tim creeps into your room, heart on his sleeve beating, he swears he's not a stalker or a creepy fan. He's just a little lovesick, just a little bit too obsessed. How could he not be? You're an ethereal equation he's spent countless nights studying from behind a screen, something so distant, empyrean, like trying to pry out secrets from lost galaxies.

He pushes the heart-shaped bag forward, practically melting it into your hands, watching eagerly as you pull the zipper to open his gift. Laying atop the cacophony of chocolates and cosmetics is a simple slip of paper scribbled in red.

I Love You

ꨄ︎ Robin - Damian Wayne| سینه‌سرخ - دامیان وین

There's an engraving in his heart that bares your name, rugged laceration that ever only stops to bleed when your claws collide with his sword. Damian harbors his legacy between his bones, feeding it, letting the expectations fester until they crack and reshape his body. But he needs you to do it, needs you close by when he finally inherits his bearings.

But sometimes, sometimes when nobody but the moon is around to witness his exhaustion. He haunts you down for the sole purpose of being near you. To inhale the airy scent of your perfume and stare into those bewitching eyes. Tonight, he sprints from rooftop to rooftop trying to find

and when he sees you bathing beneath the pale moon's rays, Damian swears his heart stops. He clears his throat prideful even when he's all so desperate for a sliver of your attention. When you turn your head to face him ethereal eyes glimpse at him, he hurriedly presents you with a gift. A single dagger oriented with a little bow around the hilt. It's almost like presenting you with a part of his DNA, only problem is you can't tell if he's challenging you or proposing, both thoughts make you sick. Before you can speak he's disappeared into the night, heart rattling his ribs as his face grows painfully hot.

You Better Appreciate The Gift.

🦇 Batman - Bruce Wayne | بتمن - بروس وین

The moon is his witness, the best wingman in town. He thinks it's funny how in so many ways he's made every creature that roams through the twilight streets. The mayer once called the nightmares of Gotham 'his', 'Batman's' and Bruce could do nothing to stop the way his heart skipped an anguished beat. Because they were his, his rogues, his gallery, and someone how, by some mistake somewhere, he had turned you into one of them. His little villain, his little kitten, prowling through the night.

There's retribution in the way he kisses you, his tongue tastes of cathartic desperation as it rolls between your lips. His grip on your forearms is so tight you feel your arms go numb. He's let you slip through his fingers so many times under the moon's watchful gaze, he refuses to let it happen again. This time he has you, this time he won't repeat the same mistakes. You are his.

His Forever

₊⁺₊☠︎︎₊⁺₊ The Batman Who Laughs - Bruce Wayne | بتمن که می خندد - بروس وین

You snort the blood from your nose trying to crack the broken thing back into place, the black menace only laughs, his long tongue rolling out to lick at the crimson substance. "You're so pretty when you bleed" he insists as his lips marr your flesh, teeth abrading at the veins hunting for more blood. You try to push him away but he only grips you tighter talons sinking into your skin, your blood under his nails.

The monster kisses you, splitting your lip in the process, iron floods your mouth before he slams you onto the ground. You look so seraphic bleeding beneath him, feline eyes darkened over with a vicious glare. But it only serves to make him laugh, he dedicates each giggle to you, his perfect little pet. You turn and bite his wrist, but the monster only laughs harder. He leans down again spiked mask puncturing your eyebrows, dragging over your eyes slicing the optic, and traversing the valley of your cheek. You scream not from the scorching pain but from this manic comedy, you've been doomed to.

Happy Valentine's Day

༻¨*:· Terry McGinnis - Batman | تری مک گینس - باتمن

Terry's kisses are heavy monstrous things. Hungry and careful, sweet contradictions that leave little lovebites in their wake. You squirm against the brick wall grip tightening on the bag of stolen compartments, daring him to try and pry it away. But the caped crusader only seems focused on you.

Terry longs to see your face, you shatter that dreaded helmet and look into your eyes. He chews on your flesh, claws at your body anything to feel closer, anything to feel loved. He dreams of too many 'one days' of holding your hand and walking through the city, neon hearts bleeding overhead. But for now, he lays content in the dark, holding you and feeling the feverish pounding your your heart against his.

Please Just Love Me

[nottswitch]

⋆˙⟡♡ VENUS IN CANCER

venus in cancer wants a long-term relationship where they can safely build a family. they strive for a deep, heartfelt connection; this placement, once their guards are down, makes for a loving and sentimental partner.

chef!theo nott x reader

warnings: 18+ mdni, breeding kink, creampie, unprotected p in v, mentions of pregnancy, praise, cursing

nav // event / more

it had always been difficult for theo, though he’d never admit it out loud. how could not not be? running a family restaurant meant seeing it every day – the happy couples, parents eating as their little ones played in the kid’s area… he was known for being focused and dedicated to his work, yet he just couldn’t help it sometimes – his attention strayed, and certain images filled his mind. the images of you pregnant with his baby, you as a mom, putting your child to sleep, so beautiful, so caring… it didn’t help at all that you’d always been vocal about wanting to start a family someday, which only fueled his fantasies and caused very inappropriate reactions in his neat uniform trousers.

and valentine’s day turned out to be an absolute torture – the amount of couples flooding the restaurant was close to diabolical, and theo ended up spending the entire day frustrated and painfully aware of his desires; you hadn’t left his mind even for a second. so, when he came back home from his shift – totally didn’t excuse himself by ‘important family matters’ – he was all over you.

you didn’t mind, oh, not at all. not when his heated body was covering yours so deliciously, your bare skin slick with sweat from close to an hour of endless lovemaking, his cock splitting your open enough to make you moan his name at the top of your exhausted lungs.

"cazzo, so fucking pretty for me," theo breathlessly murmured as he pounded into you, the movements slow but deep, reaching the spot just at your cervix. "wanna fill you up so bad, amore."

your nails dug more into his back at his words, leaving faint red lines all over, the ones he’d make sure to check out in the mirror later.

"please," you whined, struggling to keep your eyes open, yet determined to do it all the same – you were a bit obsessed with the way theo’s ocean blue was gazing at you, with the heady mixture of tenderness and hunger that you knew was reserved only for you.

"oh yeah? please what, baby?" he teased, though his smile was genuine, small but loving. he absolutely loved seeing you like this, all flushed and needy for him, and it made him feel blissed out enough to let his usual composure crumble, his carefully constructed facade fall, demolished by the overwhelming affection he felt towards you.

"please… god– fill me up, baby!" your voice went high, a signal that you wouldn’t last much longer.

"fuck–" theo felt himself grow closer too, his cock throbbing between the warmth of your walls, squeezing him so tightly, sucking him in in just the perfect way. "gonna give you my babies, amore. you want that?"

"yeah," you could only breathe out, ragged and shallow, as theo’s thrusts grew sloppier inside of you. you could tell he was about to cum, and the thought of him filling you up made you moan louder, his name the only thing left in your fucked-out mind.

"you’re gonna be such a good mom." theo sounded strained, as if he was trying to hold back, but it was clear that he wouldn’t be able to very soon. "can’t wait to get you pregnant, amore. so prettily round with my baby…"

an image of you with a big, swollen stomach carrying his child made theo lose it – warm, thick spurts of sperm spilled deep inside, completely coating your walls and seeping out, onto your inner thighs, as he continued thrusting into you, determined to bring you over the edge as well. it didn’t take long – a few more seconds, and you were coming after him, your nails carving scratches into his back. he straightened out, looking down at where your bodies connected, and slowly pulled out. your hole clenched, squeezing his cum out, but he quickly gathered it all with his fingers and pushed them back into your sensitive entrance, causing the muscles of your lower abdomen to contract.

"have to be sure it’s all in, amore. gotta make sure you’re all nice and pregnant real soon, yeah?"

[mickyschumacher]

[I THINK HE KNOWS!]

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: a fake and curated date in italy on valentine's day is no one's idea of fun except a publicist’s. but all it does is take a walk around monza to know the difference between what's real and what's fake.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: fluff, poor humour, fake dating trope, reader is a graduate uni student, lando being a dream boyfriend, kinda suggestive at the end, mentions of horrible fans and privacy invaded, me knowing nothing about italy let alone lombardy at the end as well.

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: lando norris x fem!reader

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 3.3k

𝐀/𝐍: third fic of my series! i really loved writing this one! fake dating is always such a hit or miss to write about but in this case, it was a lot easier. hope you enjoyed it!♡︎ // as usual, poorly proofread

𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 | 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Life’s a funny thing really. Full of mistakes leaving you wondering how you ever got there.  

And as you sat on a bench, looking over at the view of Lake Como in Lombardy, Italy, with ‘hidden’ paparazzi down the street, you began wondering the exact same thing.  

“How long do you think they’ll be here?” You queried, turning your body to face Lando.  

Lando tilted his head, resting his cheek in his hand as he leaned on the top of the bench. His blue eyes briefly raked over you and then where the paparazzi hid. He looked over at his watch. “Give or take twenty minutes. They’ll probably be hungry for actual food soon.”  

You withheld your sigh. How did you get here? Time sure had flown as seven months ago you were just a graduating university student with loan after loan on her shoulders. The very student who still decided to have a sweet treat after handing in her assignment and headed to your favourite cafe. The very student who bumped into Lando Norris and had her bracelet snag on the sleeve of his jacket, landing you in a compromising position as you tried to take it out.  

The very student who woke up the next day with her entire privacy invaded as ‘fans’ hunted you online and seemingly decided not only were you Lando’s girlfriend but the ‘perfect match’. 

That was you.  

Mere hours later, you had Lando’s publicist and underlings knocking at your door with a comprehensive contract and a promise to pay your student loans and pay you. You didn’t think it would last this long. Three months tops... surely. 

So, you signed it. A contract declaring that you were fake dating Lando Norris.  

They said it would help Lando’s image. And help it did. Lando had never looked better to his sponsors. Apparently dating a university graduate makes you look more polished and mature, enough to at least secure a dozen contracts. Most fans seemed to love you. Even the driver’s had taken a liking to you.  

But to you, Lando, and a handful of selectively picked people, this was all fake.  

Every decision was carefully made. The matching jewellery, what he said, what you posted, where you met, the hugs, the arms around the waist, the staring, the kisses... 

And six months later, here you were. On a curated date with the Lando Norris at Lake Como on Valentine’s Day – the third day of your trip. You had both compromised, agreeing to each make a list of things so do in Lombardy, two of which had to be a couple’s activity for the sake of it.  

You had completed most of both of your lists. A visit to Teatro Alla Scala, an opera theatre (your idea, obviously). A guided tour Villa Del Balbianello because Lando needed to see some more real-life scenes of Star Wars (mostly ended up taking photos of you the entire time). An agreed night out from the both of you to Navigli to consume ‘local food.’  

Lando, who desperately wanted to have walk around Lake Como, was sorely disappointed when he spotted the paparazzi hiding around the corner. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, watching your fingers trail the cracks in the wooden bench.  

“It’s okay,” you assured. “It’ll be over soon anyways.” 

Lando knew you were talking about the paparazzi. But he couldn’t help but think about your relationship with him.  

That day at the cafe... the only reason people thought you two were in a relationship wasn’t just because you were barely a centimetre apart trying to remove your bracelet but in all the photos people had captured, Lando was staring at you like it was love at first sight.  

And before he knew it, everything had gone down. The fans, his publicist, the media... it was a shitshow. And then you showed up two days later having signed a contract to be his fake girlfriend.  

Lando hated it. Fuck, he hated it so much. He hated that he dragged you into this. He hated that every moment with you was planned. And he especially hated that he couldn’t like you openly. Not with you thinking it was fake.  

Lando looked down back at his watch. He sighed, leg beginning to shake out of impatience. 

You raised a brow. Naturally, you put a hand on his arm. “Lando... is everything okay?” 

Lando flickered his eyes to your hand and back to your face. He moved his arm from your grasp, grabbing your hand instead. “Come on. We’re leaving,” he stated.  

Your eyes widened as he stood up, bringing you up with him. “W-What? Lan–we’re supposed to leave in thirty minutes,” you murmured quietly, leaving only him to hear your voice.  

“I don’t care,” he started, increasing his walking pace. “Whatever you do... just hold on to me, okay?” 

You furrowed your brows. “Lando, what are-” 

Abruptly Lando paused in his steps. He turned to you, blue eyes staring hard back at you. “Do you trust me?” 

“I–” 

“Do you trust me? Yes, or no?” He repeated softly. 

You gulped nervously, unable to look away from him. “Yes.” 

A look of relief washed over his face as he nodded. “Good. Then hold on. And don’t let go.” 

“Lando, I still don’t get what you–MEAN!” You yelped as Lando began running in no particular direction. You tightened your grasp on his hand while your legs struggled to catch up to him. The problems of having an athlete boyfriend.  

The wind felt serene. The sun was oddly warm despite it being the winter season. It was as though spring was trying to come a little early. All the early architecture you had seen on the way here was beginning to blur into one uniform colour. You weren’t sure where you were going or why but all you knew was that you were going way too fast.  

“Lando! I swear to God, if you get us killed–” 

“You said you trusted me,” Lando yelled back, cautiously looking over his shoulder. He could see the paparazzi struggling to follow the both of you.  

You panted, pushing your legs to keep up. “I do! Breaking into a sprint all of a sudden with no idea in mind, however, begs a slightly different answer.” 

Lando couldn’t help but laugh over the air and God, did you love it. You had heard of people saying that a laugh could so like music to one’s ears. You never understood it. It was a laugh. A reaction. How could it be musical? But in that moment, you understood. It wasn’t just the laugh. It required the context, the smile, the thought... and only then did it become an orchestrated musical masterpiece.  

Another yelp left your mouth as Lando pulled you to the side, situating yourselves in an empty shaded alleyway. You rested your back as comfortably as you could against the stone while Lando stood in front of you, hand still wrapped around yours.  

You both waited quietly. Turning your head slightly, you could see a small flock of black clothed paparazzi walk by, all ushering and yelling, mystified to how you both had disappeared.  

“Okay,” you swallowed hard, turning back to Lando. “I think they’re...” You seem to have lost your ability to speak as you found Lando staring at you. It had been a common occurrence within the past few months and it never got any easier. “They’re gone,” you confirmed, chest heaving.  

“You should probably start joining me on my workouts,” he mumbled, eyes flickering over you again, absorbing the sight of the thin sheet of sweat across your skin.  

You narrowed your eyes, moving your hand from his grasp to hit him with the side of your bag. A groan fell from his lips. “Ow!” He yelled, making you clasp a hand over his mouth. Your head darted to the side, checking whether anyone heard him.  

“What was that for?” He queried after you removed your hand from his mouth.  

“For being an asshole. And for making me run. Which reminds me... why did you make us run?” You queried with a more than unhappy tone.  

Lando grinned. “We still have one thing on your list to do.” 

You furrowed your brows. “I didn’t add anything else.” 

Lando’s hand rummaged through the pocket of his shorts, taking out a familiar piece of paper – the very one you had written all your activities on. And right at the bottom was an activity you thought you tore off.  

Your eyes widened, hand darting out to grab the piece of paper but Lando was too quick. “Nuh-uh,” he tutted, holding the paper close to him. “I’m getting this framed.” 

You skin burned at his words. You clearly remembered what you wrote.  

Walk the Monza track with Lando (and preferably some gelato). 

“I was supposed to take that off,” you mumbled.  

Lando frowned. “You don’t want to do it? Or did you not want to do it with me?” 

You blinked blankly at Lando. “Are you stupid? Did you read the same thing I did? Obviously with you. I just... we’ll probably get mobbed so it’s a stupid idea.” 

Lando understood what you meant. Visiting in Italy for two days now had proven to be incredibly difficult with a fan asking for a photo every other minute. He was appreciative that you were so understanding but he felt awful. 

“Yeah... I mean it would be crazy if you had a boyfriend who could rent out the entire track for a couple of hours,” Lando yawned, stretching his arms nonchalantly.  

Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see your mouth fall open. “Lando... you didn’t.” 

Lando rolled his eyes, grabbing your hand once again. “I did. Now come on. We’re going to be late!”  

━━━━━━━━━━━ 

You blinked blankly once you arrived to the empty Monza track. You had preoccupied yourself in the car ride here, pointing out all the interesting things you were seeing as Lando drove to the track. You were going to fall asleep if you hadn’t arrived there any earlier. But now that you were... you didn’t think your eyes could get any wider.  

“Is that a...” You turned to Lando with twinkling eyes.  

“Just go pick your flavour,” he narrowed his eyes.  

A squeal fell from your lips and before you knew it, you were hugging Lando tightly. You could feel his arms wrap around your waist, happily accepting your hug. “Thank you,” you murmured next to his ear.  

Lando smiled calmly despite his heart beat pounding in his ears. He was sure he could stay like this forever if he could. “You’re welcome. I... It’s so much less than what you deserve, but it’s all I could think to do given the... circumstances.”  

You stared at the pavement of the track heavily, Lando’s words swirling around your head. Right... the circumstances. You cleared your throat, pulling away from him even though you could’ve sworn you felt him tighten his grasp momentarily.  

“Come on. Pick your flavour or I’m just going to get you all chocolate,” you called out, waking over to the gelato cart he had hired. 

Lando sighed, briefly making a disgusted expression. He followed after you with a small smile. Despite the wind, he could still smell you on him.  

You greeted the cart owner, excitedly eyeing all the gelato flavours. There were so many to choose from... how were you ever going to pick? “Can I get...” 

“She’ll get mango, chocolate, raspberry, and lemon in a cup,” Lando finished, hovering behind you.  

You gaped, snapping your head to Lando. “How did you know?” 

“Better question is,” Lando started, resting his mouth right above your shoulder and near your ear, “why wouldn’t I?” 

You shivered at his words, cheeks burning at the small grin playing on his lips. “I’m not sharing any of mine,” you muttered, moving your eyes to the gelato.  

Lando pouted teasingly. “Please,” he sung, tilting his head so you could see him blink his eyes rapidly. 

You gulped, taking a step away before you succumbed to his wishes. “I think I’m going to throw up.” 

Lando gasped. “So rude!” 

You chuckled taking the cup of gelato while thanking the owner. Lando narrowed his eyes at you, ordering his own combination of pistachio, melon, and orange.  

You made a face at his cup as he walked towards you. “There is something so wrong with you.” 

Lando rolled his eyes, nudging you forwards to the entrance of the track. “Just be quiet and walk.” 

━━━━━━━━━━━ 

You and Lando walked comfortably at your own pace around the track, eating your gelato while he explained parts of the track or its history.  

“I’m not gonna lie,” you started, finishing your spoonful of raspberry, “Curva Parabolica makes me feel sick. Every time it came on the TV, I thought I was going to throw up.” 

Lando raised a brow, resting his spoon in his cup. “I thought you didn’t watch them?” 

It was always Lando’s assumption you didn’t watch the races. Even when you came to them, if there was a camera, you’d flash a smile, otherwise there was no other reason to be there. You were at the podiums because you had to be, not because you wanted to be. 

You snorted, looking at him incredulously. “Of course, I watch them. Why wouldn’t I? You’re freaking racing! I’m always so proud of you, no matter where or how you finish. You don’t see me next your mum and dad, cheering you on at the end of the race?” 

Of course he did. You were the first person he would look for at a race. And if you weren’t there, he’d look at the camera in hopes you were watching. And all this time... you had been.  

Lando’s mouth dried. “I just thought...” 

You looked at his face and you could read his mind. “You thought it was fake.” 

He blinked, regret washing over his face. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t help it,” he apologised.  

You took a spoonful of your mango gelato and eyeing his mournful expression. “It’s okay. If there’s one thing you should know, my proudness and happiness for you isn’t fake. Even if this whole thing is.” 

And there it was again. The bitter reminder that this entire relationship was fake. That perhaps the only real thing in your relationship was how you met.  

But this was real. 

This – the track, the gelato, the conversation – this was real.  

Lando sucked in a sharp breath, moving his eyes to the rest of the track as he ate large soon of his melon gelato. He exhaled slowly, trying to remember where he was once again. “Okay... pop quiz! Who was Variante Ascari named after?” 

You cleared your throat, pulling on a thoughtful expression. “Um Al.. Alberto Ascari? The Italian driver, right?” 

“Thank God someone’s been paying attention,” he joked as you neared the named turn.  

You rolled your eyes. “I should thank Fewtrell for that one. Remember that stream he made us join?” 

“Yeah,” Lando laughed softly, all the memories hitting him at once. It was really sweet of Max actually. It was a time when some ‘fans’ were being particularly awful to you. Saying you were using Lando for fame because you barely knew anything about the sport.  

Max then created a poorly made quiz about Formula 1 and got you and Lando to join. Max and Lando pretended not to know much so you were all in the same boat. And any time the right answer was mention, Lando would occasionally squeeze your leg to give you a clue. The stream was flooded with some of the kindest comments, telling you to ignore everyone else and just focus on your health and your relationship with Lando.  

It was one of the moments where you realised how good of a friend Max was. Lando was lucky to have someone who cared for him that much.  

Lando looked down at his cup and let out a dramatic sigh. 

You didn’t even need to bat an eye towards. “I told you I'm not sharing,” you reminded, quickening your pace.  

It didn’t take long for him to catch up. “Please, please. I can see you have like two spoons of mango and lemon. Come on. Sharing is caring.” 

“No–Lando! Stop following me!”  

All of a sudden, you and Lando were running again. But this time, you weren’t worried about some paparazzi or the destination. It was just you and Lando.  

“No offense, but you are not outrunning me,” Lando called out from behind you, running with what you were pretty sure was a smug grin. 

You huffed, trying to push your legs further but you could feel him hovering. You came to an abrupt halt. “You’re right. I can’t outrun you,” you smiled, turning to him. “But I can out-eat you.” 

Lando’s grin dropped as you combined the two flavours of gelato and plopped them in your mouth. He stood there, dumbfounded while you happily ate the rest.  

You replicated his smug grin from earlier and poked your tongue out. “All finished. Sorry,” you shrugged with no sound of an apology hidden in your voice.  

Lando swallowed hard, eyes fixated on your mouth. A step closer to you, his body was pressed on yours. His hand travelled up your neck, the other hand resting on your waist to pull you closer.  

You inhaled slowly, hairs on your body standing straight. You tried meeting his eyes but all you could see was him focus on your lips. Instinctively, your hand fell to his arm around your waist, fastening yourself to him.  

“I... I think I can still taste it,” he said, voice hoarse and dry. He wasn’t sure if he could even recognise himself. 

“Lando... I–we're not on the clock,” you whispered, unwilling to untangle yourself from his grasp.  

“I don’t care.” 

In the blink of an eye, Lando’s lips were smashed against yours and fuck, his lips were soft and pillowy as usual. Your stomach churned upon feeling Lando pushing you closer to him, if that were possible. His fingers were cold against your skin, creeping under the hem of your shirt to rub tingling circles onto your skin.  

A breathy gasp fell from your lips while goosebumps littered your skin. Lando took advantage of this, groaning against your lips as he darted his tongue to explore your mouth. He could feel himself press into you, rubbing his hard-on against you.  

You think now would be an appropriate time to self-implode. You had all the signs. Burning skin, dizziness, and the lost ability to breathe. 

Lando almost buckled under your touch as your fingers scoured his taut torso, lingering dangerously close to his v-line. 

“Holy fuck,” he gasped, pulling away to rest his forehead on yours. His hands had found themselves holding yours, preventing you from undoing him any further. His chest heaved, rising up and down while he stared at your swollen lips and moved his eyes to meet yours.  

“I want this to be real,” he pleaded, moving your hand to his face. “Please.” 

“Lando,” you started but he didn’t want to hear it.  

He shook his head. “I think I’m falling in love with you. I think I have been since we first met,” he sighed out, collecting himself. “I don’t want to do this when it’s fake. I want to be with you because what I feel is real. Because you drive me crazy and I can’t imagine a future without you.” 

You blinked, feeling his hand trail over yours as you caressed his face. Your heart raced loudly in your ears. How were you supposed to respond to that? “I...” 

“Please say something. Anything,” he begged, blue eyes heavily staring down at you. 

“As long as you promise to walk with me on every track. Oh, and get me gelato.” 

Lando let out the biggest sigh of relief, almost collapsing against your hand. His head dipped down, pressing his lips against you once again, taking you into a long kiss. He sighed, pulling away.  

His arms fell around your waist as he grinned at you. “I promise.” 

© 𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐘𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑 

[xinganhao]

11:59 PM ⏰ joshua x reader.

there's only one thing that joshua wants for his birthday: to kiss you at the stroke of midnight, come the 31st. with a little help from his friends, this might just be the year that he finally succeeds.

ⓘ mentions of alcohol consumption. writing (word count: 1.7k) under the cut. happy shua day! ૮₍˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ₎ა

TIME CHECK: 9:34 PM. 

Joshua Hong is in love with you. 

He’s been in love with you for eight birthdays (counting yours and his), four Christmases, and two shitty Valentine’s (one for each of you). 

Has he done anything about it? Not really. 

Will that stop him from trying? Absolutely not. 

The two of you had promised to make it to Minghao’s by 9:30 sharp, but the song on the radio had been just a little too good as he pulled the car into park. It’s in those four extra minutes that Joshua is reminded just why he’s been so infatuated with you all this time. 

The enthusiastic way you sing along to the AJ Rafael track. The giggles you let out when you trip over the lyrics only to barrel right on to the next verse like nothing happened. The upturn of your lips, the ghost of a smile— 

God, he is so in love with you. 

He plays the part. He pretends the steering wheel is a drum. He bobs his head up and down in time with your off-tune crooning. He belts when you ask him to, his riff of maybe you could save me from this crazy world we live in breaking off into a laugh when your voice cracks. 

The final verse is still playing when you finally give up, nudging Joshua’s shoulder. “Let’s go,” you prompt. “Before Seungcheol blows a gasket.” 

Of course Seungcheol would be the most upset if the two of you were late. Joshua chuckles at the mental image of his friend pouting the whole night. “Alright, alright,” he concedes. 

He’s out of his seat in the next second, jogging past the front of the car so he can open the passenger door for you. You have that exasperated look on your face— the same one you wear when you’re about to insist that he doesn’t have to do this— but it’s softened by fondness. 

“After you, m’lady,” Joshua says loftily, selling the whole act with a little curtsy. 

You’re laughing as you take his hand. “Don’t mind if I do.” 

Once you’ve stepped out of his car, you surprise him by not dropping his hand. “C’mon,” you urge, instead keeping your hands clasped as you tug him forward. 

He stumbles on his first step but follows easily, the biggest smile beginning to spread on his face. The song from the radio is playing on repeat in the back of his mind— a refrain that could be as good as a promise, if he squinted. 

We could happen, Joshua thinks dazedly as you drag him up to Minghao’s front door. We could happen. 

TIME CHECK: 10:42 PM. 

“Oi, loverboy.” 

The pet name snaps Joshua out of his reverie. His head snaps over to Seokmin, who had been chatting his ear off for the past couple of minutes. 

“Don’t call me that,” Joshua grumbles. 

His friends are merciless. Seokmin snickers. Jihoon bites back a smile. Jeonghan rolls his eyes. 

“We were asking what your birthday wish was,” Seokmin repeats. 

Jeonghan chimes in, “Y’know, after we all pulled lies out of our asses to make sure you could spend the day with the love of your life.” 

“Stop,” whines Joshua, the tips of his ears already beginning to flame red. He composes himself just enough to huff, “And I can’t tell you what my birthday wish was. Otherwise it won’t come true.” 

Jihoon mumbles something like ‘true’, but Jeonghan and Seokmin are relentless. 

“Give us a hint,” Jeonghan insists. 

Seokmin raises his index finger and his thumb. “Just a teensy, little hint!”

Autonomously, Joshua’s eyes flick over to where you are. You’re across the room, engaged in conversation with Mingyu and Vernon. The distance is far enough that Joshua can’t make out what’s being said, but it must be a good one; you’re grinning, nodding, gesticulating. 

He holds back the urge to swoon. It’s a futile attempt; his friends all share looks before bursting into raucous laughter. 

“No hint needed,” Seokmin says amusedly. 

As much as Joshua hates to admit it, the man is right. The answer to what he wished for is clear as day, is in the very same room as him. 

TIME CHECK: 11:10 PM. 

Unbeknownst to Joshua, there’s a plan in motion. It’s a rather simple plan, too, and the boys had been convinced they could see it through. 

After all, they only had to make sure that you and Joshua were at each other’s side by 11:59 PM. 

Simple, right? 

Except Seungkwan, Soonyoung and Wonwoo are knocked out of commission after sharing a champagne bottle. 

Minghao gets into a spat with Junhui over one thing or another. Seungcheol and Jeonghan bicker to the point that Seungcheol has relegated himself to one corner, his arms crossed over his chest as he sulks. 

“These idiots,” Seokmin huffs disbelievingly. Must he do everything himself? 

He checks his watch. He has forty more minutes. 

He could probably afford one more drink. 

TIME CHECK: 11:43 PM. 

Joshua can’t believe his friends. 

If they’re not drunk, they’re feuding. Seokmin— who had earlier been so insistent on seeing the telecasted ball drop— is sprawled out on the couch, knocked out cold. 

“That’s one way to usher in the new year,” you muse. 

Something in Joshua’s chest thrums. 

“Guess it’s just us,” he says smoothly. He thinks he deserves a standing ovation for just how even his voice sounds, betraying nothing about the hammering in his chest. 

His nerves are somewhat eased by the smile that breaks on your face. “It’s just us,” you repeat, and you don’t sound particularly opposed to the idea. 

You even sound… excited? 

Joshua tries not to overthink it. He shoves his hands into the pockets of his coat, just to keep himself from reaching out for you. “The view of the fireworks might be better from outside,” he says. “What do you say?” 

It’s a selfish offer. Joshua is trying to mastermind his way into being your New Year’s Eve kiss. God forbid a man try to make a move. 

“I say that sounds good,” you respond, and Joshua barely holds himself back from breaking out into a little dance. 

TIME CHECK: 11:57 PM.

Out on the sidewalk, it’s just the two of you.

The streetlamps cast a warm halo over your head. The fireworks bathe you both in multicolored flashes of light. There’s the sounds of bells ringing, and children screeching, and trumpets being blown. 

All of it feels inconsequential to the thrill running through Joshua’s veins. 

You’re standing by his side, talking about your resolutions for the new year. And you’re so lovely. And there’s nothing Joshua wants more than to finally, finally— 

“Oh?” You fish your phone out of your pocket. “Ah, sorry. Give me a minute, yeah?” 

Joshua’s hand twitches at his side, like he’s tamping down the urge to keep you. “Take your time,” he says. 

His eyes follow you as you hurry off, ducking someplace where he can’t quite see you. Joshua tears his gaze away to look up at the night sky instead.

TIME CHECK: 11:59 PM.

Most of the apartments in Minghao’s building have left their windows open. Some superstition about inviting in good luck.

While Joshua is standing outside, he can faintly hear a blaring television beginning to count down the seconds. 

“Seventeen… sixteen… fifteen…” 

Joshua exhales, his breath coming out as a visible puff of air. His eyes flutter close, the image of the full moon burning behind his closed lids. The thought of being underneath it without you makes the earlier thrumming in his chest twist into something that almost aches.

He supposes that some wishes aren’t meant to come true. 

TIME CHECK: 12:01 AM. 

“Shua!”

Joshua startles. He hadn’t noticed your return, and he’s momentarily distracted from his thoughts as his eyes snap open. You look panicked; it makes his chest squeeze with concern. 

“Hey,” he says immediately, his hand instinctively resting on the side of your arm in a bid to soothe. “What’s wrong?” 

“I missed it.” 

“Missed—” 

“Missed you!” 

Before Joshua can question your words, you’re already ranting. “The clock on my phone is a couple of minutes behind, and I thought I had enough time. I just wanted to pop a mint, put on some lipstick, maybe—” 

The implications of your words hit him like a truck. His eyes widen, and then something almost like a laugh breaks from the back of his throat. 

“You— for what?” he manages, even though he already knows the answer. 

“For this,” you say, and then you’re standing up on your tiptoes. 

The press of your lips against his is better than every goddamn firework in the world. Joshua is sure that absolutely no one in the world feels the way that he does right now. 

He doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t freeze up for a minute. His free arm snakes around your waist, gently pulling you flush against him. His other hand goes to rest at your cheek as he tilts your head ever so slightly, just so he can deepen the kiss. 

When the two of you break apart for air, Joshua lets you breathe for all of five seconds before he’s kissing you again. 

You giggle against his mouth. And it’s dizzying to him, the way the two of you are smiling as this unfolds; the way the rest of the world is a flurry of noise, but he’s standing still with you in his arms. 

“Shua,” you say his name like a reprimand, gently pushing at his chest to get him off you for a moment. 

His body doesn’t seem to register it. His head instinctively ducks to follow your lips. The sheer desperation of it makes you smile. 

“I’m sorry for being late,” you say, almost shy in your apology.

“My fault,” he responds hastily. “Told you to take your time.”

And, to hell with his dignity— 

“One more, please?” he asks, his tone just a little breathless. 

You’re laughing, again. Not at him, hopefully. He can’t bring himself to care, though, because your hand is already at the back of his neck, tugging him down. 

“One more,” you murmur.

Birthday wishes be damned. A quiet voice in the back of Joshua’s head whispers a disbelieving this is happening as he goes to kiss you again, knowing fully well by the way you respond that this won’t be the last time. 

It’s a fulfilled promise. 

This is happening. We’re happening.

↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺ we could happen by aj rafael. what are you doing new year's eve? by zooey deschanel and joseph gordon-levitt. 7PM by bss and peder elias. tell me it's not a dream by 10cm. fallen by lola amour.

240525 #joshua 🦌 carats, thank you always. i will work hard to live up to the love that carats give me. so i'll be continue to be in your care. yoshi yoshi~ carats, the moon is pretty.

› scroll through all my work ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ my masterlist | @xinganhao

[hotyanderedaddies]

Blake Gives You a Valentine's Day Gift

[Yandere Bully]

[Here's a short oneshot with Blake which takes place before he claims you! And Happy Valentine's Day!]

[Yandere! Bad Boy x GN! Nerdy Reader]

·゜·:.。..。.:·☆·゜·:.。..。.:·☆

Valentine’s Day: the day for couples to express their love to one another.

Sometimes you felt a little annoyed about the over-commercialization of a holiday that was meant to celebrate love… but a little part of you also knew deep down that you said that because you were single on Valentine’s Day.

Sighing, you tried your best to ignore the scores of lovey dovey couples walking down the hallways of the crowded school. 

All you wanted to do was get home as soon as possible so that you could spend the night just lounging around in bed— binge watching tons of crappy reality TV shows while eating a whole box of parmesan Cheez-Its.

It sounded perfect!

Your locker door slammed shut, jolting you out of your envious stupor and making you jump back.

Standing there, his large hand placed onto the front of your locker door, was Blake: the ultimate school bully, and someone who you tried your hardest to avoid at all costs.

“Here,” Blake grunted as he forcefully shoved something at you.

“Wha—?” you wondered aloud as you examined the stuffed animal that had been thrusted into your hold. It was a classic teddy bear with a cute little red bow around its neck. You looked up at the bully with confused eyes.

A pinkish hue formed on Blake’s face and he averted his gaze from yours for a brief moment. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” he muttered.

Before you could say anything, Blake turned around and disappeared down the hallway, swallowed up in the crowd of other students.

You examined the teddy bear in your grasp, wondering why on earth Blake would give it to you of all people. You barely even spoke to the guy! Why would he want to give you a gift on Valentine’s Day?

You kept puzzling over it for the rest of the day, and even when you got home.

You placed the teddy bear on your desk in your bedroom, which was positioned across from your bed. You kept eying the teddy bear, still confused to no end. 

Blake was the scary school bully who never spoke to people, unless it was to tell them to fuck off. So why would he want to give you a Valentine’s Day present?

It made no sense to you at all.

But still, you couldn’t help but smile the tiniest bit that you had your very first Valentine’s Day gift from a guy… even if that guy was Blake.

Chuckling a little to yourself, you quietly muttered, “Happy Valentine’s Day, Blake” to the teddy bear before returning your attention back to the TV…

·゜·:.。..。.:·☆·゜·:.。..。.:·☆

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Blake,” you said, your audio being caught perfectly by the hidden camera in the teddy bear.

Blake eagerly watched the video feed on his phone, staring hungrily at the image of you sprawled out on your bed. Even though you were clad in a hoodie and sweatpants, Blake was still rock hard as he imagined himself wrapped around your form, securing his arms and legs around you so that you couldn’t leave his side.

His heart raced faster when you said his name, and he grew desperate for you to say it again.

Buying that teddy bear with the hidden camera was the best idea he’s ever had, he truly felt. Now instead of having to wait all night and through the tortuous weekends to see you, Blake could get a glimpse of his darling any time he wanted.

Blake’s been madly in love with you ever since he first laid eyes on you.

He knew from that moment that you were made for him — meant to be his, and his alone.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, my love,” Blake whispered, his fingers caressing your image on the screen. “I love you so, so much. And I promise we’ll be together really soon.”

[vivalabunbun]

As We Are, We Will Be

Summary: A nonsensical question is proposed in one singular moment between a stoic and stoic face in one singular universe.

Word Count: 9k (It was supposed to be short and sweet-)

Tags: Alhaitham X Fem! Reader, Smut, NSFW, Fluff, a lot of fluff, slight angst, soulmate au, slow fic, established relationship, married life, Soft! Alhaitham, attempts at comedy, mentions of aging, slightly jealous! Alhaitham, mutual pinning, soft sex, vanilla, safe sex (wrap it up), riding (cowgirl), fingering, slow sex, making love, really bad expatiations of scientific theories and math, just two nerds in love.

Authors Note: Happy belated birthday and Valentine's Day to my favorite dendro nerd. A continuation of this piece, one I hold dear. A thought experiment based on nothing more than the feverish delirium of love.

It was just for a moment. 

A mere pasting instance in the contentious momentum of time when a glimmer caught your eyes in the muddled chatter of a crowd, a silver shimmer like starlight.

Interrupting your contemplation as your eyes impulsively search for the source.

A late morning on a Saturday, the markets and stalls were lively with families replenishing a week's worth of groceries. Bodies veering and easing through the bustle of the busty streets.

The wide breadth of life that moved all around you. Like a collection of small dots within the vastness of a universe. 

But amid the vast collection of blurry faces were the flicker of silvery locks refracting the late morning light. Originating from a pair, an elderly lady and an elderly man, their aged hands intertwined. 

Time had made her marks upon them, and gravity had pulled down on their wrinkled faces. Yet, the ends of their lips were pointed toward the sky. The corners of their eyes wrinkled as their gazes held each other's faces. 

From their view, do they not see the starlight hue of their hair? Instead, do they still see the vibrancy and youth of their locks which age had stolen from them? 

The image of each other reflected in their irises, was it from a time before the hands of gravity pulled on their creased skin and bowed bones? Would you ever be able to find out? 

“I wasn’t aware you had a hobby of people-watching.” A baritone voice ghosts over your ear. 

Jolting your head to your right, you come face to face with the interruption. Or perhaps, your mind finally registered Alhaitham’s presence just off to the side of you. His arms were weighted down with various bags. 

Oh, that’s right, the markets and stalls were lively on the weekend with families restocking groceries for the upcoming week. You and Alhaitham were no different. 

Glancing up at his ashen trestles and then scanning back at the starlight locks of the elderly couple, and then back to your husband. 

“Hmm, not quite. Just noting the fact your hair is the same color as an old man’s, Haitham.” You catch the subtle twitch of his brow. 

“Is that so? I hope you are aware you’re not immune to the inevitably of aging, wife,” Alhaitham returns your jest. 

“Well, with your hair color and grumpiness, I’d say you’re already halfway there.” 

“I needn’t expound on your equivalent levels of grumpiness, it won’t be long before your locks share the same ashen hue.” 

“I guess that’s why we get along then, dear husband.” 

“That’s one theory,” he huffs, a simple tone lacking any bite.

You pan your face back toward the crowd, partly because it’s getting harder to hold the neutral position of your lips, partly because your curiosity aches for an untold conclusion. 

However, when your gaze returned to the ever-bustling sea of people, the pair of starlight hues were nowhere to be found. It was regrettable, but expected, the elderly couple were nothing more than a pair of strangers in a crowd full of unfamiliar faces.

They were just a brief scene that disappeared into the moving tides of people. 

Leaving you with your unresolved musings. 

“Is there anything else we need for the week?” 

Alhaitham’s voice reels your consciousness back, swiftly you check the crinkled slip of parchment within your hand. Scanning down the list of written items, all with a neat little line crossed through their immaculately penned letters. 

“It looks like we got everything we need.” You tuck the list into your pocket. 

“Then it’s best we get home before our groceries are spoiled by the heat.” Alhaitham readjusts the bags in his hands. 

A hum takes its place as your response. Pivoting your body in the direction of your shared home. From the corner of your field of view, his strides were paced to coincide with your shorter steps. 

Studying the numerous bags occupying his hands, you can’t help but think it’s quite convenient to have someone as robust as your husband. Maybe it's these weekly grocery runs that are the secret behind his physique. 

Discreetly, your hand slowly slips between the gap of his arm and body, linking your elbows together. So that your frame and his could withstand the push and pull of the crowd’s contentious momentum. 

The neutrality of your lips had long slipped away, softened by the familiarity of his warmth. Even as your eyes were pointed on the path ahead, you had an inkling that a similar occurrence was mirrored on his lips as well. 

An inquiry your curiosity didn’t need to peek to resolve. 

 

That ache for an untold conclusion morphed into a new musing by the afternoon. 

The silver shimmer from that elderly couple’s hair truly was like starlight. Perhaps that’s the correlation that steered your thoughts down this winding path of pondering. 

Everyone, from those taking their first stumbling steps of youth to the slowed cane-assisted tramps in their golden years, is technically billions of years old. Or more accurately, the atoms and minerals in everyone are billions of years old. 

The carbon in muscles, the calcium in bones, and the iron in blood were all forged in the hearts of bygone stars. When those bright beacons burned out they exploded in one last finale, expelling those materials across interstellar space. Stardust that found its way here. 

Here within you, and here within the slow breaths of the man in front of you. 

After being around for billions of years, does stardust ever get exhausted? 

That would be a sensible explanation for why Alhaitham had snuck away amidst hanging up freshly washed laundry. 

His tall frame stretched the expanse of the couch as his starlight lashes were shut, shamelessly relishing in a nap under the streams of sunlight trickled in from the window. 

Squatting down you observe the guiltless expression plastered over his resting face, still deep in the trenches of sleep, a small huff passes through your lips. Well, this morning you did have him carry all the groceries from the market back home.

Your husband does deserve this little nap.

Trailing your eyes down his neck you note the lack of a pillow, then as your gaze travels further you note the absence of a blanket as well. Internally, your mind tsks at this forgetful habit of his. 

Although his body and yours still have youth coursing through your veins, it doesn’t mean they’ll remain as impervious as they are now later down the line, especially if preventative measures aren’t taken.

Like having a pillow to support one’s neck, or a blanket to prevent chills from plaguing the body. 

Standing back to full height, you retrieved the missing artifacts, returning with a plush pillow and light comforter.  

Even when his head was momentarily lifted to make space for the pillow, and when the spare comforter was draped over him, Alhaitham didn’t stir one bit. At times you can’t determine if he’s a light sleeper or if his stubbornness refuses to leave the plain of dreams. 

It’s a true wonder of life how Alhaitham’s able to sleep so soundly at night given his extensive naps. 

The vivid sunlight illuminated patterns upon his cheeks and trestles, causing the ashen strands to dazzle in their refraction of the afternoon light. A sight your eyes just couldn’t help but be enraptured by. 

Maybe you could blame the warmth of the sunlight, or maybe the serenity of this quiet Saturday afternoon, or perhaps even these fickle inquiries about his naps for the yawn that left your lips. Now might be the prime time for some research. 

Lifting up the comforter just enough for an opportunity to slip through, your body settles in the space right against his. It’s crowded on the couch, the cushions unprepared for two bodies to occupy its entirety, the open edge looming against your back.

Even after all the shuffling and pressing against his dozing frame, your husband didn’t budge a bit. 

Leaden lashes still shut and lips set in that all too familiar line, chest rhythmically rising and falling in time with yours. The very image of unperturbedness under the blessing of sleep. 

“You really are like an old man.” 

At that mere jab, the corners of his lips tugged down while his eyes remained closed. A quick slip that confirmed your earlier suspicions. 

“Who knew you were so talented in acting, Haitham,” you snicker. 

A muscular arm soon enveloped your form, further pressing you against his chest as if to silence any more sardonic quips from entering his ears. 

It was quite the challenge to stifle those giggles before they could erupt from your lips. Peeking up, there’s an ever-so-subtle lift at the corners of his mouth. An express which yours mirrored. 

Studying the details of the lips just a breath away, a new musing worms its way into your thoughts:

 When the hands of gravity and time start to pull down on his skin and yours the same, leaving wrinkles and creases in their wake, will the edges of his lips still curl like this? 

Would yours mirror the same? 

A second yawn sneaks past your lips as your lashes grow heavier with each fluttering blink. Claiming a corner of the pillow to lay your head upon, the seconds between each subsequent blink grew longer and longer until your lids were too heavy to lift. 

Perhaps the stardust in your bones was exhausted, craving a short rest in his warmth. 

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

There’s something against your back and your legs are tangled in something, sensations which gradually alert your dozing sense back from the fog of slumber.

At first, you only had the strength to peek open one lid, then promptly shut it. But in the nothingness behind your eyelids, something was halting your limps from stretching the weariness out from themselves. 

You tried again, this time fluttering both sets of lashes apart ever so slightly. There’s a dry film coating your throat and mouth, feeling the impressions of the couch cushions and bundled comforter imprinted into your skin.  

What time was it?

Blinking away the haze of sleep just enough to notice how the golden rays of a star were missing. A gray overlay was plastered over the living room despite the ticking clock hands displaying that it was late afternoon.

Peering back through the window behind, observing the congregating insipid clouds blocking out the azure sky. 

A sure sign of rain despite the morning forecast. Rain… wasn’t there something left unfinished on the clotheslines outside? The groggy recollection of responsibilities creeps into the forefront of your mind. 

The reign of your weary limbs slowly returns, and your legs languidly attempt to stretch out from the reveal they were caught in. However, their movements only caused a pair of longer limbs to ensnarl them further.

Alhaitham’s legs promptly caught yours, stifling any prospect of escape. 

Your displeased whine was responded with a disgruntled groan by the man keeping your body locked against his. 

Wasn’t your back looming just about the edge of the couch when you fell asleep? So why are you in this position now?

Your body wedged between the plush backing of the couch and his solid frame, the comforter swaddling you also didn’t aid in your immobility. Brawny arm draped over your waist, halting your feeble squirms at freedom. 

“The laundry,” you mumble.

“Later.” A blunt interjection from a groggy voice. 

“It’s going to rain.” 

“Less than a 30% chance.” 

“Haitham…” 

Your husband simply burrows his head deeper into the leveled pillow, likely an attempt to leverage the cushy material to block out your grievances. His ashen lashes still stubbornly shut, much to your displeasure.

“Alhaitham.”

No fluctuations in your volume nor tone, but it was enough for one teal eye to peek out from under ashen lashes. Trailing up to a subtle frown to the furrow between your brow, then finally meeting your unamused stare.

“Laundry,” you try again. 

A silent stare down, one stone face gazing upon an equally stoic face, like an immovable object pressed against an equally immovable object.

Which one will defend their title of most stubborn today? 

His chest expands with a deep breath, grasp enclosing around your waist before his teal gaze shamelessly vanishes behind closed lashes. Robust frame pinning you further to the back of the couch as he continues to ignore your huffy floundering. 

“Release me, don’t you dare-” 

Your grievance was soon muffled by a gentle hand pressing your cheek into his palatial chest. A move that stupefies the irksomeness bubbling within until it falls defeated into placidness. 

“Whether it be now or later, they’ll be clean regardless, it’s quite comfortable right here.” The resonance of his voice vibrates in his chest. 

You respond with a humbled grunt. In terms of strength you’d always lose to your feeble husband, wouldn’t you? 

There’s no point in peering up, for the pleased satisfaction of his resting face would bring a sour taste to your tongue. Thus, you merely adjust your limbs, coiling your arms around to his back and pulling his form closer.

It’s crowded on the couch, it’ll be troublesome if Alhaitham were to slip off the edge if his back were to stray any further. 

At this distance, entangled so closely together, the soft beats of his heart in time with yours like a rhythmic lullaby beckons the heavy to return to your eyelids.

The gentle drumming of his heartbeat coaxes out a final sigh from you, lashes descending down as your vision dims back into the realm of slumber. 

Slow breaths and heartbeats homogenize into a tender duet, tranquil enough to distract from the sporadic pattering against the glass and gradually increase in consistency. 

A less than 30% chance of rain doesn’t mean that there’s a greater than 70% chance of no rain. It’s merely a statistical probability of 0.01 units of more precipitation at a given area in the given forecast area in the time period specified. 

Known as the precipitation probability, calculated based on two factors: 

The forecaster's certainty that precipitation will form or move into the area X The areal coverage of precipitation that is expected, then multiplied by 100. 

Thus, if the forecaster were 90% certain that 30% of the forecast area would receive rain, then the forecast displayed on screens would read as a 27% chance of rain.

A crucial bit of information that seemed to have slipped his mind midst a quiet afternoon. 

A troublesome miscalculation Alhaitham tsks at internally as he wrings out the pillowcase into a sink before tossing it back into the washing machine. Button-down shirts and blouses, wrinkled from the process of twisting out as much rainwater as possible, sat in damp piles awaiting their turn to be rewashed. 

As he measures out the detergent he can hear the rattles and clanks of the pot and pans from the kitchen. A late dinner in preparation, a task which was supposed to be his this week.

When he woke up to the pattering of rain drumming against the window panes, the afternoon long gone, it stirred an ever-so-sinking pit of dread. Second only to the unamused stare of his wife as she replicated an overconfident statement:

“Less than a 30% chance, Alhaitham?”

How unfortunate it all was, that the area where this quaint house resides was part of that 30% of the forecasted area.

Teal eyes watch the bedsheets whirl and fumble as they spin in the wash, contemplating the circumstance and further action. 

There is only one spare bedding set in the closet, so it’d be wise to allow you to have it for tonight as all the sheets and covers get rewashed and dried.

Your bed is about the same size as his, so two bodies wouldn’t have an issue fitting. At this rate, the two of you just slept in whichever bed was the most convenient. 

However, given the current state of things, Alhaitham wonders if he should prepare himself to brave tonight on his bare mattress with a flimsy spare blanket and pillow.

He might as well return to the couch for tonight if that was the case. 

The accumulation of all the years of science, mathematics, and research, Alhaitham wonders if there was ever a bright mind who came up with a formula to calculate how displeased one’s wife is.

What would be the factors plugged into the equation? And how accurate would it be? 

More specifics needed to be gathered, something the man couldn’t do in the refugee of the laundry room. Thus, Alhaitham must brave a journey into the kitchen. His slipper-clad footsteps are slow and methodical as the kitchen appears from around the corner of the hallway.

Sights honed in on your back as you stood by the stove, a rich aroma wafting through the air. 

Sleep still dusted your hair, evident in the few unruly strands sticking up erratically on your head, you made no attempt at fixing it. One hand is too occupied with stirring the pot on the stove, and the other set upon your hip.

Your stance wasn’t exactly tipping the scales in his favor. 

Cautiously, Alhaitham made his way to you. Stopping just a few paces as your eyes peer over your shoulder, stoic gaze halting him in place just a few paces away. The faded imprint of the crumpled blankets and couch cushions on your cheek.

His hand twitches with the urge to run his thumb along the impressions, but rationally warns him of the consequences. 

“The laundry?” No discernable tone in your voice. 

“Everything has been collected and wrung out, I’ll rewash everything tomorrow.” It’s best to answer your questions this time. 

“Hmm, they were out in the rain for quite a while now. They were dripping out onto the floor when you brought them in.” 

“I’ve mopped away any rain and mud tracked between the back door and laundry room.” Teal eyes quickly checked the aforementioned area to ensure they were pristine before returning to you. 

“Hmm.” You turn back towards the stove. 

The soft ticks of the clock accompany the waning drums of raindrops against the glass, the kitchen hood whirring as a ladle continues to stir in a pot. A quiet lull engulfed the home. Treading on the side of caution, Alhaitham inhales deeply. 

Without opening the box, one will never be able to confirm to fate of Schrödinger's cat. 

“What’s for dinner?” 

“Hmm? Well, it’s raining tonight, what better to eat on a rainy night than some Sabz Meat Stew, no?” 

He’s careful to not sigh too audibly, lest he goes to bed with a stomach half-full of instant noodles and that miffed stare of yours.

Alhaitham decides to hold his tongue as teal eyes continue to watch you add more spices to the pot. Studying how nicely the apron is tied around your waist. 

But it wouldn’t be wise of him to stand so close when the fabric of his shirt was still damp with rainwater transferred to him by the soaked laundry and sky. 

His chain of thought was interrupted by the chimes of your phone on the countertop, catching your eyes as well as his to peek at the over. A certain name is displayed across the screen. It’s as if the hands of fate wanted to throw more salt into his face. 

Bahram (Manager)

It’s a Saturday night, for what reason would an employer need to contact an employee so late?

Alhaitham’s focus shifts to your gaze which is still honed in on the screen. A bitter tinge crawls up the tip of his tongue, threatening to spoil his appetite. Perhaps, he wouldn’t mind settling down in his bare bed with just a spare comforter without dinner tonight.

“Can you reject the call for me? He can wait until Monday to get me to resolve whatever he messed up,” you scoff before rolling your eyes back to the stove. 

Swiftly he swipes to decline the call, let your voicemail remind Bahram of the concept of ‘off time’. The phone whirs again right after the first rejection, but he simply swipes decline again.

Pushing the device away with a bit too much satisfaction in his veins. 

Glancing back at your frame, he lets out a sigh as he relents. Resting his head into the crook of your neck, careful to leave a bit of distance between your bodies and to not hamper your shoulder’s movement. 

“Hm?” You hum expectantly. 

“It was my oversight tonight.” A string of words a bit unfamiliar on his tongue, but stubbornness hasn’t been in his favor tonight. 

“And?”

“I’ll be more cautious regarding naps.” 

“Hmph.” 

The lull returns, him resting his head on your shoulder and you continuing to watch over the stew. Teal eyes on you and your eyes on the stove. Until your shoulders raise with a deep inhale. 

“Go get changed out of that wet shirt then set the table, this bastardized version of ‘soup’ will be ready in 20 minutes.” You reach for a skillet just off to the side. 

He hums this time, the liberation from treading in suffocating lull tugs at the end of his lips. He surmises that laying his head against you for a few moments more won’t be so consequential. 

The patter of raindrops still splattered against the glass panes of the window, drops which warped and blurred the scenery beyond the glass. Not that there’s any scenery to look at, not with the dreary clouds crowding the sky. 

A heavy sigh huffs through your nose, curling onto your side as you adjust your pillow. 

A filling dinner, a warm shower, and soft comforters. Factors that should contribute to a restful night’s sleep, or at the very least make your eyelids weary with the weight of lethargy.

Yes, perhaps those components should’ve granted you entry into the reprieve of a dream. 

If it wasn’t for the fact you’ve intruded into the domain of slumber twice already today. 

And the tempter who lured you to do so currently has his arm wrapped around your waist. 

Alhaitham’s chest rises and falls against your back, soundly asleep without an ounce of guilt over the predicament he’s partly responsible for. 

Lifting your head off the flattened pillow, your body twists around to fluff the stale stuffing back up before settling back to your position.

His body rested against yours just as it would any other night. But there’s a weight at the corners of your lips, one only grew heavier as your ears witnessed each content exhale resounding from the man who seemingly stole your sleep. 

If you were crueler, you would’ve exiled Alhaitham to the couch or his barren mattress. 

However, he’d probably sleep just fine regardless. 

Canting your head up, you flip your pillow to the other side once more. 

Your rolls and rhythm were abruptly interrupted by the clasp of two harsh hands pulling your hips into his, the contours of his rigor now digging into the plush of your ass. Forcing a stunned gasp up your throat.

“It seems like my wife has quite a bit of energy.” His timbre deeper from grogginess. 

Ah, all the twisting and turning you did just to adjust the troublesome pillow must've disturbed him. 

The softness of your ass cradled against his pelvis through the thin material of a button-down, an item borrowed from his closet that you’ve designated as sleepwear, and his sweatpants. 

‘Serves him right.’ 

Your attempts to twist out from his iron-clad hold only ground your ass more against the stiffness, earning a grumble from his lips. 

“Oh? And who’s fault is it?” You retort, still protesting in his hold. 

Snaking one hand downwards Alhaitham presses against your lower stomach to arch your ass further into him. Leaning his face closer to yours. 

“Do you want me to take responsibility?” His whisper ghosts over the shell of your ear.

You could feel the pads of his fingertips tracing under the loose button-down.

“Shouldn’t you resolve the issues you’ve caused?” A huff leaves you.

The outline of his shape pressed along your skin, the plushness of your bottom contrasting against the rigidity. 

“I can say the same to you.” 

The pads of his fingers trail up your heated skin, crawling along your torso, feathering touches alighting your senses like sparks. Massaging the tired yet restless muscles. You sigh in contentment.

The billowing button-down dragged up by his vascular hand, unveiling your skin to the cool sheets. Wandering touches slow as they rest in the valley of your breasts. His fingers enclose around one mount, gently twisting the defenseless nipple.

“H-hey! Hmph-“ Barely catching a moan before it fled past sealed lips. 

“Hm?” His lips are now right next to your ears. “Surely you foresaw this, I’m just helping my wife with all her excess energy.”

His forgotten hand made its presence known as it kneaded your hips, cunning touches breaching under the feeble defenses of your panties. Effortlessly brushing them to the side, long fingers encroaching closer to their destination. 

Your thighs react, squeezing together to prevent him from venturing further. Unfortunately, it was all in vain, for his fingertips already dipped into an all too familiar sap.

“See, you seem quite eager,” he taunts.

Stubbornly, your body attempts to buckle away from his influence. Face firmly pointed away from his lest he peeks at your heated cheeks. 

Alhaitham abandons the perch on your breast, two large hands attempting to tame the bucks and rolls of your hips. He releases a slow sigh into the crook of your neck. 

“Are you not feeling it tonight?” His hands remain where they were, but the strength missing.

At the lack of resistance, your hips seem to have lost interest in their writhing, staying within his yielding hold. Internally, you chiding your body for being so straightforward. The only thing blocking an answer from exiting your throat was that fickle ego of yours. 

“Won’t you allow me to make up for my blunders today, wife?” He soothes his hand along your leg.

With that stubborn ego of yours still biting down on your tongue, you simply nod your head. Feeling the heat of your cheeks reflected to you by the pillow. 

Permitting your thighs to give into the tow of his grasp. Allowing the grip of one large hand to pull your bent leg open, exposing your vulnerable cunt. Shielded from the view of the raindrops by a mere blanket. 

The hand snaked under your waist took swift advantage of the oppurtunity. Sliding one firm finger down to part the fold of your slit as his warm hand cups your greed. 

Alhaitham continued with the caresses of his fingers. Your lashes and lips pressed tightly shut, your leg still held in his tender hold. His slow breaths brush ghosting your skin. 

He spreads the slick along your slit, the tips of his fingers ever so often knocking against the bud at the very top. Teal eyes catch the sudden jolts of your body every time it happens. 

He moves his fingers downwards, slowly parting the now soft folds of your core. Feeling the subtle puckers of your entrance as his touch traced closer, more wetness dribbling out from the honeypot. 

The tip of his finger now encircles the fluttering hole. Your hip subtly bucked into his hand, as if to lure him in a soundless plea. 

Breaths getting deeper as your eyes follow his touch, the warm pad of his index finger twirling against your clit. Stoking a burgeoning fire with each slow circle. Your placid sighs fill the lull. 

His middle finger ventures past the entrance of your satin walls welcomed with a lewd squelch. Curling his finger against slick walls to test the give, he wonders if this hidden oasis is etched into his shape yet.

Diligently, his digit continues to sink in and out of your weeping hole, making your teeth sink into the flesh of your bottom lip. The squelches increased in volume as trickles of nectar began pooling on the sheets. Walls clamping around a lonely finger, it wasn’t enough to quell that mounting heat within. 

A second deft finger joined in, sliding past a hungry entrance. A tangled dance amongst gummy walls as they curled and stretched the space. The lewd squelches resounding in your ear, a whimper trapped in your throat. The heel of his warm palm now pressed flat against the soft mound of your cunt, every movement of his hand resulting in a grind against your clit. 

Each grind causes a hot flash to shock throughout your body, starting from your curled toes to the very top of your head. The jostling of your hips and legs gradually expels the blanket off the bed. 

“Mmph!” A whine from a sudden surge of bliss when his thick fingers curled against a spongy patch deep within. 

“T-there! More there!”

Your body writhes, no longer docile under the white searing pleasure frying the ends of every nerve within your being. 

He gladly obliges. Unrelenting rhythm slipping in and out of your convulsing walls. Ensuring to grind against that spongey patch.

 Your body twitches and flails in reaction. Trying to find some way to handle this surcharge of sensations. 

Legs instinctively wanting to shut together as if to cease this turbulent sensation, unfortunately, your pitiful strength gave no resistance against his rigid hold.

Piqued by the sweet tune, Alhaitham watches the scrunch in your trembling brows. He repeats his actions, another mewl leaves your lips as your head leans further into his shoulder.

The mellow pace of his fingers suddenly amps up, retreating out only to clap back in as his palm presses into the twitching bud. 

“Ah! Haitham.”

A pressure mounting up, a sirens call beckoning you closer and closer to a hazardous cliff’s edge. The only foundation for your sanity is thousand-count fabric, thus you twist the silk fibers as tremors overtake your body.

Walls clamping down to trap his thick digits inside as it spasms. Muscles tensing and quivering as your back arches away from his chest, parted lips with nothing choking past them. 

Three thick fingers sink deeper into your pussy without a hint of resistance, as a reward he makes sure to roll your overstimulated clit in firm circles with his palms. Judging from the violent tremors in your legs, it seemed you were almost there. 

Just at the cusp of rapture when your hand tangles into his ashen-locks, canting your head back so that your panting lips could capture his. Alhaitham returns to gesture with just as much fervor in his kiss, swallowing down your sweet mewls for himself. 

With a singular gasp, the siren’s call had beckoned your sanity to drown in the murky depths. It’s as if you lost control of your body to the possession of pleasure.

Eyes rolled back and lips broke away as breathy moans escaped the prison of your throat, a haze heavy over your thoughts, pride long lost amongst the gale of an orgasm. 

The beckoning depths of euphoria welcome your descent. 

Your limp frame rests against him. A light layer of sweat coating your panting chest, blurred vision merging and blending the details of the ceiling above the bed.

Alhaitham coaxes the contractions of your core, riding out the waves of their squeezes and sucks against his fingers. Earning an addictive whimper from you when his digits pulled away. Entranced by the glimmering string of nectar stretching between his fingers and your oasis. 

Trailing back up to your face, he notes the return of your hazy irises from their ogle of the bedroom ceiling. 

“Better?” Teal gaze watching the pants of your chest as they steady. 

‘No, not at all’, a statement just at the tip of your tongue, but your lips were busy attempting to grasp deep breaths. The surplus of vigor festering into unquenchable desire. To be closer, deeper, more. You needed more. 

Where words fail, action must take its place. Even before your mind finishes up the scheme brewing within, your lips catch him off guard, plush lips embracing his in a tender waltz.

Your body rolls back so that your breast can press against his chest through the thin fabric of his stolen shirt.

At the tender caress of your kiss, teal eyes disappear behind ashen lashes, the clasp of his grip loosening. Allowing you the mobility to finally pull your body on top of his, lips never once parting until you were finally settled atop his broad body.

A certain stiffness makes its reintroduction against your roused clit.

Breaking the seal of the kiss as a line of salvia stretches between your tongues, arms pushing against his firm chest to prop your body up as you gaze down at him.

“Still have too much energy?” Haughty eyes peer into yours, yet you can see the ardor oh so thinly concealed behind the brilliant teal. 

“What do you mean? Aren’t you the eager one?” You hum, rolling your hips against the rigidness trapped behind the prison of sweatpants.

“Hmm.” He sucks in a breath through his teeth. 

Large hands feel down along the plumpness of your ass as they drag a flimsy bit of fabric down your thighs. Daintier hands pull down the hem of sweatpants and briefs. 

A fair exchange. Him helping you out of those ruined panties, and you freeing him from a compressed prison of cloth. Discarded and forgotten along the floorboards as the fog of passion obscured them from further consideration.

His vascular hands slide down the curves of your body, settling on your hip as your legs plant themselves on either side of his body. Alhaitham coaxes the hem of his stolen button-down just above your midriff. Sharp eyes surveying the puffiness of your clit, glistening with temptation. 

Lowering your hips a breathy sigh leaves his lips and yours as the ridges of his cock drag against your slick folds. A few slow rolls starting from his leaking tip sliding down, thick veins skimming against your swollen clit. Precum mixing with arousal in a sinful concoction along his length. 

Perhaps he should convince you to participate in more naps if he knew it’d make you this excitable. 

“Oh,” you hum aloud, pausing your hips as you reach over to the bedside table.

Pulling open the drawer and rustling about a box followed by the crinkling of foil. Holding up the corner of the packet to your lip, tearing the foil while your gaze held his. Taking your time in dragging the condom out from its package. Easing it down his length while your fingers traced along, feeling each twitch and shudder. 

“You sure do know how to test my patience.” 

“Hmm?” You feign innocence. 

A pair of shaky breaths mingle as Alhaitham helps position his engorged tip at your dripping entrance. Your hand guides him while raising your hips.

Other hand pressing his chest down for support as your thighs sink back down, a shameful squelch accompanying heavy breaths as your walls welcome his cock’s fat head.

Weeping pussy engulfing his girth in bit by bit until you clit kisses his pelvis. Sending jolts of searing pleasure that caused your satin walls to twitch and tighten. 

Releasing a breathy sigh as you gather your senses.

Drawing out his cock inch by thick inch, sloppy trails of arousal caught on each ridge before dropping back down. Earning low grunts and sighs each time your satin walls swallowed his girth. The rhythm of your hips is paced and controlled despite how Alhaitham’s fingers dug into your skin. 

A whine living your drooling lips with each slap of his skin against your clit. Pushing each tantalizing inch to stroke your starved walls until his skin claps against yours with a wet kiss. The bedframe creaks with each calculated movement, back and forth, back and forth the wood sings along. 

Your head was light, intoxicated by a feverish potion of lust and desire. Feeling him reach the deepest depths, fat tip grinding against those spots which made your legs falter momentarily each time.

Utilizing the strength of both your arms now to support yourself. However, the jolts of pleasure that shot up your spine with each roll of your hips were too maddening to stop. 

His calloused fingers massage circles into your hips. Squeezing the plush flesh to ground his sanity, watching your lewd face as you shamelessly bounced on him for your pleasure. Observing the subtle ripples with each slap of your hips and the jumps of your perky breast. 

The ghostly touches of your fingers skim across his lips, prompting his eyes to connect with yours. Lush and glossy lips parted with your deep pants as your lust-hazed eyes peer down at him, unspoken plea inscribed within them. Who is he to not fulfill your desires?

Lurching his upper body up, he answers your plea, capturing your lips with his. Swiping his tongue against your bottom lip, deepening the kiss. A messy and feverish tangle as if to replace the air in your lungs with his. 

Mewls and whimpers muffled by his skin, your hands moving to perch themselves on his broad shoulders. Your quivering legs grew limp as the strength of his hands took over. Barely processing the sweet nothings whispered as your core relishes in the fullness. Like an ache that’s been finally satisfied. 

He wondered if tonight’s excessive vigor was fraying his control, or if your body was just this addictive. 

By now any notion of decency and integrity has long left you, your hand clawing into his shoulders, marking him with the scars of rapture. A harsh thrust of his hips recoils through you, a wanton moan reverbing off the walls as it forces your tangled lips to part. 

Tongue unable to produce anything other than strained moans, your head nods into his broad shoulder as your hips ground against his. The wet squelch announces the reciprocation of your walls. 

The intervals of those unrelenting rams increasing between the tender thrusts, half-lidded eyes trained on the shivers of your body. Cock sliding against satin ridges of your wall. Grunts and pants reverberate through his throat, teeth clenching as your heat engulfs him again. Reaching deeper into your welcoming core as your lips fall open. 

“Is this not enough?” You could feel the mirth in his whisper. 

Closer, deeper, more. You want more. Walls aching for more, for his girth to jostle your core more, to extinguish this all-consuming heat within you. Hips floundering in harmony with breathy mewls. 

Pressing libidinous kisses along his throat feeling the vibrations of his grunts and pants, a deep chuckle was soon felt against your lips.

“Good grief you are a greedy little thing aren’t you.” 

A deafening slam of skin resounds through the heavy air, swiftly followed by another and another. A new tempo in this waltz of passion takes over like a wave sweeping both of you out to a sea of indulgence.

Possessed by the desperation of chasing a white light, your hand rakes deeper into his toned arms. Seizing anything to prevent your mind from abandoning your sinful body as his girth twitches within your velvety folds. 

Sanity like a foolish sailor who’s beckoned by the lure of a siren’s voice, uncaring of the rocks which will sink them to the very bottom of the bemused tides. Keening against your husband shamelessly, a shameless wife on the cusp of her second fall into ecstasy. 

The heavy scent of lust, the smothering heat, his unrelenting and unshakable thrusts amalgamating into the spark that lit your nerves alight. Toes arched into the air and eyes reaching the back of your head. Sobs and incoherent babbles resounding through the room. 

Your devious walls clamped around his dick with maddening convulsions, gummy muscles suckling against his girth eager to quell your aching greed. It was too much. 

His fingers claw into your soft hips, pressing your cunt flush against his hips with a sloppy slap of skin. The bulbous tip prodding against that weakness deep within you. Bruising grip holding your body in place as his lips crash back into yours.

Swallowing down his breathless groans with your sweet mewls and praddles.

A heat is spilled into the rubber, making your greedy walls quiver amidst the aftershocks of ecstasy. Alhaitham’s hips twitch with each subsequent rip of his orgasm, thrusting his length further into your crowded cavity with each one. The filthiness of it all prolongs your sinful depravity. 

Chest expanding with pants, your lopsided shirt falling further down your shoulder. Your eyes return from seeing blinding white, exhaustion drenching each fiber of your body.

Limp figure crumbling against your husband as his back lays back on the creaking headboard. Even before your worn mind could conjure a coherent thought, your hands caress his starlight tresses. 

As his own breath evades him Alhaitham releases one hand to cup your cheek, thumb brushing softly against your smoldering skin, guiding your lips back to his. 

Basking in the warmth forged between your bodies, between drumming heartbeats and breathless lungs. 

Two bodies lay under silken sheets, skin freshly wiped clean of sweat as the crisp breeze brushed against the curtains gradually erasing the sinful haze. The cool air aids your rising and falling chest to pace itself. 

Muscles and bones heavy with fatigue, yet your eyes couldn’t bring themselves to retire behind shut lids. Not when those dreary clouds have finally retreated. 

The moon hangs high in the sky, finally free from the shroud of rain clouds, she sits among the twinkling dots. Twinkling dots were in actuality brilliant stars, some even larger and brighter than the beloved sun. 

Glimmering lustrously as they traverse through the contentious vacuum of space and past other nameless stars. A scene from a late-morning market trip wanders its way back from the depths of your memory, bringing its musings with it.

“Something on your mind?” A timbre voice beckons your conscious mind back from its trek.

Teal eyes set upon yours as your heads rest on plush pillows, just a breath away from one another.

“Hm, just senseless musings.” Your gaze shifts away from the window. 

In a changed world with millions of hands will your hands and his find each other to make two pairs of hands?

In a different time with a million pairs of legs, will your steps and his steps still coincide in time with each other 

In a new life with a sea of new faces, will a stoic face and another stoic face spot each other in the crowd? 

What is the likelihood of those odds? 

“If you keep letting your thoughts fester, it’ll only bring trouble upon yourself in the morning from sleep deprivation.” He shifts his position, supporting his cheek on his fist as he stares down at your face. 

You sigh because he spoke exactly what those whispers of rationale were urging you, but the scoffs of pride had deemed these rampant inquiries ‘childish’. However, it’s a bit hard to avoid his eyes now. 

“I was just musing about the soulmates concept again,” you confess. 

Alhaitham hums in curiosity. 

“Do you…” You take a deep breath, forcing the hard-to-vocalize question from your tongue. “Do you think we’ll only be together in this life?” 

He’s silent. Just the muted chorus of Summer crickets rejoicing over the conclusion of a rainstorm resounding through the space.

“In a different time, a different universe, or the next life, do you think we’ll be soulmates again?” You muster together the courage to peer up at his face. 

“I don’t recall ever reading an article or paper related to this topic, so it’ll be convoluted to get an answer.” He brings his other hand to his face, signifying his musings. 

Right, there isn’t even a definitive answer for what happens after life passes, an afterlife, a cycle, or nothing, no one knows. Was this the only universe where life exists or are there infinitely many far out there in the stars? Does anyone know?

Your hand pulls your blanket up to your face, partially to cover the growing shame creeping up your face. That haughty voice within was right, these baseless questions are silly and childish. Perhaps even too morbid to bring up so unprompted on this weekend night. 

What were you expecting Alhaitham to even do? Did you want him to give you an answer? What can he even do? A question you can’t even begin to understand, why would you even expect him to have some solution prepared? 

What to do now? Can you just take back your previous words from his memory, so he’ll just forget what you said? Maybe just ask him to quell any more mindless musings from plaguing you tonight by placing his lips on your forehead? So that you could finally drift into the realm of slumber. 

However, is that temporary solution enough? Enough to stifle the contentions and riddles clattering together into a clamorous ruckus in your head? Could sleep even spare you from their tumult? 

“The Membrane Multiverse Theory or reincarnation, hm, do you have any personal theories you’d like to share?” The sensation of his fingers grasping yours brings you back to reality. 

Glancing at him with a quirk in your brow, you wait for him to continue. 

“Who knows, maybe we’ll be the first to publish something for this topic.” His thumb runs along your knuckles. 

“So, is there a speculation or possible rationale you feel particular to?” Teal eyes reconnect with yours. 

“Well…” You sigh, relishing in the warmth of his hand as you concoct a half-baked theory. 

“There’s stardust from stars that had burst billions of years ago, that have somehow ended up on this planet. Subsequently, every being on earth has the atoms of stars in them. So, naturally by the law of conservation, the earth is where the atoms of the human body will return.”

“Based on the law that atoms cannot be created or destroyed?” He drones. 

“Yes, they all had to come from something before them. The carbon in muscles, the calcium in bones, and the iron in blood. The atoms that make up you and I might become part of something else, or even of different people too.” 

“Hm, that sounds probable.”

“But, then this brings up a whole new host of questions, such as, if the new people our atoms become a part of are even ‘us’? Will they ever meet? What if you become a tree and I a rock? What if the atoms of you end up on one side of Teyvat and I on the other end?”

You peer into his irises, but you were just searching for an answer that isn’t there. 

For his beryl irises were impassive. But it was the impassive foundation you needed to ground your rambling thoughts and nonsensical musings into the desolate truth of it all.

The warmth of his hand slips away.

“Never mind, I suppose it’s the most logical to conclude that we’re just soulmates in this instance of time, in this universe, and only here.” Your hand closes over the empty space he left. 

Maybe it’s wise to dismiss it as silly rambling and then withdraw from his indecipherable eyes. Is it too late to put this plan into motion now?

The weight of a muscular arm is draped over your waist, hand pulling you closer unlike your ploy to escape. 

“But I have a few theories I haven’t shared yet.” He glances out toward the bedroom window. 

“While the theory of reincarnation currently doesn’t have any solid scientific backing, in some way, the law of conservation of mass does give a bit of merit to that notion.” Alhaitham draws circles into the small of your back. 

You hum in response. 

“The atoms that created us will return to the earth after us and become a part of something or someone else’s molecular structure. A tree or a rock, a human or a beast, it’s all probable. However…” Beryl eyes return to meet yours. 

“What’s stopping them from repeating the same molecular structures as right now?” He asks. 

Maybe it was his turn to peer into your eyes to search for an answer, an answer currently brewing and forging between your united gazes. 

“What’s stopping these atoms from returning to these exact molecular structures in the future? In a different time, the atoms of us now could one day in the far future come together again and make ‘us’ once more. Maybe just you, maybe just me, or maybe both at the same time.” 

He frees his other hand from the duty of supporting his head, broad body settling down into the bed and blankets, allowing his face to move closer to your level upon his pillow. 

“What’s the likelihood of those odds? Me and you again?” You ask. 

Alhaitham pauses. All the bright minds of science, mathematics, and physics, have yet to come up with a formula to calculate such a thing.

What would be the factors plugged into the equation? And how accurate would it even be?

The ashen-haired man wasn’t sure, but there was at least a statistical observation that would provide some basis. 

“A true 0% chance is an absolute impossibility, just as nothing can be proven absolutely 100%. Since we don't know the absolutes of time, existence, or physics. So, there’ll always be a non-zero chance.” Feeling the drums of your heartbeat against his chest. 

“Then, when they do, I think I’ll spend my life pondering what could fit into the spaces between my fingers like this.” He slips his hand into the gaps of yours, intertwining them. 

Then finally, he saw the smile he’d been yearning for rising on your lush lips. The ends of your eyes crinkle as it make its way to your irises as well. Your grip mirrors his as you nestle your face closer to his. 

“You won’t get tired of this stoic face?” You taunt.

“Will you get tired of mine?” He counters. 

Your shoulders quiver with stifled giggles. 

“No, no I won’t,” you promise him. 

“Then I won’t,” he promises back. 

His larger hand brings yours closer to himself, all the while your attentive eyes watch failing to keep the curl of your lips under control. 

“Any thoughts on the Membrane Multiverse Theory? How will your astute mind surmise the possibility of us laying like this somewhere else in the stars?” Honeyed-voice mimicking awe as your face inches closer.

“I believe I’ve shared enough, I’d much rather hear what your brilliant postulate is.” His tone casted with mirth, but the bite missing from teal eyes. 

Letting a soft hum, your mind rifling through all the paragraphs and journals your hands had ever thumbed through.

The soft rhythm of his breaths kept time. Stringing the words together on your tongue, you hope this monologue of yours will provide some amusement for him. 

“If universes are randomly put into 2 boxes of ‘yes’ and ‘no’, then on average the number of universes in each box would be the same. For every universe I’m not with you, there’ll be equally as many where I am with you.” 

A coin toss, perhaps it was all just a coin toss after all. Whether or not the Akasha paired a stoic face with another stoic face, for the gaps of your fingers to fit his so perfectly.

It could have all been a coin toss, for one half to stumble upon the other half cruelly parted from them by the hands of unseen gods. 

“Something akin to a bijection existing between both sets of universes?” He cross-examines. 

“Maybe… If we were to assign one type ‘yes’ to a positive integer, and the other type ‘no’ to a negative integer, then perhaps we can construct a bijection from the positive and negative integers.” Your brow furrows in contemplation. 

“If we submit this theory do you think the Akademiya would publish it?” 

“Not likely, bijections are usually made between sets of elements like numbers, not sure if bijections can be applied to something like whole universes. I’m just hypothesising nonsense,” you sigh.

“But they did publish the nonsense known as The Lifespan of Love,” he interjects. 

“Hm, then maybe there’s a non-zero chance they’ll publish our nonsense too.” You stifle a scoff. 

“Hm,” Alhaitham hums in amused agreement. 

His free hand pulls the covers further up over your frame then smoothing out the wrinkles. Observing the growing delays between your slowing blinks.

“Only you and I would turn pillow talk into an academic deliberation.” You couldn’t hold back the giggle any longer. 

He sighs in agreement, nestling his head closer to yours on the plush pillows, teal gaze never once leaving yours. 

“It’ll make any romantic keel over and die from how dry it is, wouldn’t it, Haitham?”

“I say let them.” 

Scoffing and shaking your head at his crude declaration as a yawn slips past your lips, a conclusion to this nonsensical academic deliberation.

With one hand still intertwined in the tender grasp of another you pull Alhaitham closer. So that the spaces of your body could lay against the spaces of his. 

The warmth of his skin mingling with the warmth of yours, pressed against one another. You drawing mindless shapes into his back, his hand tracing senseless ruins into yours.

Perhaps, an illogical attempt to echt memories into the stardust in your bodies. 

So he and you could imprint the memory of each other into the very fibers of your beings. Then maybe someday when these atoms return to these exact molecular structures, they’ll remember this too. 

The law of conservation of mass, the probabilities upon probabilities, and bijections used in an inconsequential pseudo-academic ramblings to no one but an audience of silent stars.

Alhaitham’s certain no academic publisher would spare a glance at them. 

But this nonsensical instance in the continuum of time, feeling the rhythm of your heart on the other side of his chest next to his own, is his most precious epiphany. 

Fin~

©️vivalabunbun DON’T PLAGIARIZE, REPOST, OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS. 

[gojonanami]

❝ 𝐒𝐔𝐃𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐋𝐘, 𝐈 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐀 𝐕𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐄 ! ❞

❝ HONESTLY, I CAN'T BELIEVE I GET TO CALL YOU MINE !! ❞

✧ pairing: professor! suguru geto x reader

✧ summary: it's your first valentine's day as a couple with suguru, but he's away for a conference in another city -- and you understand you do, but you can't help but miss him -- so what happens when he ends up surprising you?

✧ warnings: so fluffy!!, suggestive, mentions of nsfw, implications of smut, reader has graduated from her program, set after the events of the main series (including every part), these two idiots are so in love its ridiculous, lingerie mention, wearing his glasses and button down

✧ wc: 1,206

“I’m sorry I have to be away,” you smile at Suguru through the screen, knowing that you’d kiss his furrowed brow away if he was here, before finding his lips with yours. “This conference was last minute, I wish I didn’t have to go, but Yaga left me little choice but to go,” 

You shake your head, “We can celebrate when you come back, it’s not a big deal anyway. Just means you have more to make up for on White Day,” you tease, and he laughs, a smile on his lips for the first time the entire call, “don’t worry ok? I’m really not upset,” 

“I know, it’s just our first Valentines together and I know you had planned something for us. I really wanted it to be special,” his lips purse, arms crossed as he looks almost utterly hopeless (far too cute) and you can’t help but chuckle, “what?” 

“Never thought my hardass professor could be such a romantic,” you smirk, as his cheeks are tinted with a lovely red, “should I be giving you a poor grade for your tardiness?” 

He rolls his eyes, as his lips curl again in a smile that can’t seem to escape your presence, “Well, while I’ll definitely be making it up with some extra credit, I’d appreciate my favorite student to cut me a little slack,” 

“I recall you cutting me very little slack that first day,” 

“On the contrary, I think I was very kind, especially considering you were late to the very first class—“ 

“And what is this weekend?” You say in mock thought, “our first Valentine’s Day?” He huffs, and you smile in victory, “is this the first headache I’ve given you?” 

“Today? Yes,” and you gape at him, and it’s his turn to smirk, “I love you,” 

And your gaze grows soft, “I love you too, call me after the conference is done for today?” 

“You know I will,” and you both share your goodbyes and you’re left by yourself, as you lay back on your bed, a pout on your lips. Suguru had offered to let you stay at his place, but you know it would have only made you miss him more — being surrounded by his things, his scent, his clothes. You sighed as you buried your face in your pillow, glancing at the picture the two of you had taken in Kyoto at one of the local shrines, almost taunting you. 

He’d be back soon enough — right? 

Sorry I haven’t been able to call again. It’s been a lot of late nights — too many networking dinners. I’ll call you tonight. 

It has been two nights now, and it was Valentine’s Day tomorrow. You had barely gotten a minute to speak to Suguru since your call with him on Friday. You sighed, sending him a picture of you in his button up you stole, along with his spare glasses he had left at your place, can we have a networking meeting? I’ll send an invite to your calendar. 

I’ll clear my schedule. You smile. 

Another message, as soon as I get back. 

You pout, you expected as much — you shouldn’t have dated such an indemand academic. The horrors of academia. 

You laid back, forearm over your forehead as you stare back at your blank ceiling. It was fine, you really understood that he was busy, but you just — turning on your side to stare at his smiling face in the framed image on your bedside table before your eyes flutter shut — missed him. 

You stir awake to lips pressed at your neck, soft kisses that draw you from the heavy arms of sleep, as your eyes flutter open to see Suguru, at your side. 

“Sugu?” And his fingers trace your jaw, as your brow furrows in confusion, “but isn’t it—“ 

“Happy Valentine’s Day, sweetheart,” he pulls a bouquet of flowers from behind him — an arrangement of your favorites, as you blink, brain seemingly struggling to keep up, “you okay?” 

Your fingers find his cheek, “is this a dream?” And he chuckles, as he leans down to plant a sweet kiss on your lips, before his fingers lightly pinch your cheek. And you’re sitting up only to jump into his arms, a gasp on his lips, as he chuckles, arms curling around you, raking his fingers through your hair. The bouquet lays forgotten on the side because truly the best gift was in your arms. 

“I missed you too,” he chuckles, as you bury your face in his chest, breathing in his scent, as if he’d disappear any second. 

You lean back to look up at him, “What are you doing back early?” 

“Made a deal with Yaga that I’d go to all the networking events he wanted, if he let me leave last night,” he kisses your forehead, “surprised?” 

“I am, the best surprise,” you find his lips in another kiss, “I was fine with you being busy, but I just missed you so much. It reminded me of all the time we had to spend apart — and I just know I can’t spend another minute without you,” you bite your lip, “I was going to wait until the end of the night, but,” you bite your lip, “I know we discussed moving in before — and I think I’m ready to,” 

He blinks, before a smile breaks out on his lips, “Are you sure?” And you wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him, lips sliding against his, as your hands slide back to cup his cheeks. 

You part, barely a breath apart, as you press your forehead against his, “Never been more sure of anything in my life — it’s definitely owed to us now, don’t you think?” 

He snorts, his eyes shining, as he presses another gentle kiss to your forehead, “Should we start looking for a place now?” And you grin, as you climb into his lap, a tilt of your head. 

“Don’t you want your Valentine’s Day gift?” You ghost kisses along his jawline, drawing a gasp from his lips, your hands guiding his own under his shirt you had stolen, “I had worn it last night just to try it on, but now,” you undo a few buttons of his shirt, a hint of red lace peeking through the undone collar. 

His clothed cock twitches through his slacks, as his fingers pull yours away, to undo the last remaining buttons to show a red and pink lingerie set — red lace hugged the outline of body with red hearts dotting along the design, sheer blush fabric left barely anything of your breasts and cunt to the imagination — not that he needed to imagine — he had practically memorized every curve and corner of your body. 

“Well?” And his fingers pull his shirt off of your body, as he’s gotten you pinned to the bed, as you giggle, lips parted, “I also baked you some sweet treats, baby,” 

His lips curl, as he leans down to meet your lips, as his breath warms your lips and his words warm your heart, “There’s only one sweet thing I want, right now.” 

The two of you never did get around to looking for a place together — not until the next day. 

✧ a/n: this was supposed to come out earlier, but i fell asleep because i slept badly last night and ended up reading a manhwa when i got tired of trying to sleep. wrote this fic listening to laufey's valentine :) i also didn't tag everyone since this was kind of a last minute thing - sorry guys <;3

✧ taglist: @spider-fan72, @grunge-mo0n, @ameri-blog, @kentocalls, @peachyminx, @forest-fruits-jam, @hanxyy, @flyingtranscatofeffed, @sunflowmaryam, @regrettinglifechoices, @sugurus-fave-monkey, @atomicbxtch, @shinylightsalad

[babypudge]

🌹Everyone thought you were the perfect couple, but the florist down the street knew otherwise. It felt like you were at his flower shop every other day trying to compensate for your shortcomings in the relationship. Let’s face it, you had differences. Your better half’s love language was gifts, especially flowers. Your love language, on the other hand, was much more complicated…but after setting aside their own unattended desires, they came to enjoy the nurturing aspects of your needs - like getting to dress you up, feeding you bottles while cuddled up on the couch and sending you to bed early when they wanted some time to themselves. However, they were far less enthusiastic about changing diapers. You tried to explain to them that “babies don’t change their own diapers” and that it spoiled the experience, but the most they’d agree to was diapering you when you were fresh out of the bath. 

Eventually your continued persistence about the matter started causing trouble in the relationship - not to mention an even larger amount of your paycheck landing in the pocket of the florist. One day, he casually asked to see a photo of “the lucky person” he’d been making all these expensive flower arrangements for. Still flustered from a recent lover’s spat, you found a photo on your phone and absentmindedly handed it over to him before returning your attention to the credit card reader. Big mistake. Not only because he realized you were dating his old high school crush and that it was his flowers keeping the relationship afloat, but also because you hadn’t turned off notifications for your social accounts. 

❤️ Diaperbabyboycuck4evr liked your post suddenly popping up over the image of his lost love told him all he needed to know about how to get you out of the way, and keep you there - and thanks to you, he had plenty of money to enact his plan. The next day, flowers you hadn’t ordered started showing up in the house, the next week you got up to get some water after being tucked in early and found a note saying your partner had gone out for the evening “with an old friend” and the next month you were shocked to find the florist waiting in your kitchen and nonchalantly informing you that “Daddy needs to have a serious talk with you, tiger, about your future in this family.”

One year later and that “future” has flourished into full bloom. Now all the ladies at the bank are aflutter to see “their little man” dressed up in his red gingham Jon Jon as you accompany “Daddy" on his Saturday errands, now the “adults” are headed to Paris for two weeks while you enjoy an all expenses paid vacation to the Fisher Price Spin ’N Play Safari Activity Center in “Nana’s” living room, now everybody thinks you’re “just perfect” to play cupid in the flower shop’s new Valentines Day billboard campaign and now the best part of your day is Daddy returning home from work. Sure, most people wouldn’t be so happy to see the man who took almost everything from them return to their house - but you see, unlike his newly reclaimed love, Daddy has been wrist-deep in fertilizer so many times that a few dirty diapers don’t slow him down one bit - even at the mall, as you learned the other day. However, seeing as he’s the only one willing to handle the job, and as you once so helpfully pointed out “babies don’t change their own diapers”, you’re often stuck spending your days planted in your own soil and certainly not smelling like a rose.🦨🥀

[blueskiestarot]

What's Next In Love?

Hey, friends! I have a new PAC reading for you today. With Valentine's Day coming up, I wanted to do a reading focused on love. The readings for the next couple of weeks will likely be love/Valentine's Day themed as well. So, if you have any suggestions of what reading topics you'd like to see, let me know!

For this reading, just pick the image you feel called to and find your pile below! Love, Tara

[xxgoldie]

went to karaoke and someone sang crush by david archuleta so now im thinking abt lighter romance enthusiast lorenz also listening to the most pining songs just the sappiest playlist known to man

as usual, i am Obsessed with lighter being down bad. he's such a fucking dork, i need him. have been listening to a variety of love song playlists for the last few days as i write this and its not helped the brainrot. cw: none, pure fluff, gn!reader wc: 444 (or 618 with the bonus)

when he's out and about, he tends to listen to metal and rock, the same kind of stuff that's in his demo trailer. it gets him in the right headspace for his champion duties. when he's alone, though? his headphones are playing exclusively sappy glitter-gel-pen love songs. he would rather die than let anyone know, he has an image to upkeep - wouldn't even put it past him to have a second spotify account, bc u know the girls will bug him to see his wrapped every year.

within the love song genre, his favourite songs are ones that remind him of you.

his listening history is an amalgamation of different musical styles, but what he really pays attention to is the lyrics; if there's a song that really captures the way he feels about you, or one where the singer describes their lover and they're similar to you, he can't help but put it on repeat. he also loves duets - just like with romance movies, he loves imagining its the two of you in that situation. when he's deep in crush territory, he'll even make a playlist of those songs (it's long - can't help that every other song reminds him of you).

when you're finally together, he's more open about his love of love songs. it may take a bit into your relationship, during some late-night conversation about your respective silly behaviours when you were pining over each other, for him to show you the playlist, titled with just your initial and a heart emoji. but even before that, if you happen to play any of the songs he secretly listens to, you might catch him singing along under his breath (lowkey this post every five seconds). you might chalk it up to him picking up the words of songs the girls listen to, but that's because you don't catch the way he looks at you with the lyrics on his lips.

there are other times where he'll slide up behind you in your kitchen, arms around your waist and head propped on your shoulder, the domesticity and the fact you're wearing his tshirt getting to him. he's not much of a singer, but he'll hum one of those songs in that moment (his voice has a lovely smooth n deep timbre, so his humming sounds Heavenly in your ear). he might get a little embarrassed if you recognise the song and start humming along with him, or god forbid singing, but he'll still sway the both of you along to the music. he's not much of a dancer either, but he can figure out a midnight slow dance in the kitchen for you.

bonus!! a few songs i think he'd listen to, tho kinda influenced by my own music taste (+ spotify links): kiss her you fool - kids that fly (he has it on loop when he's psyching himself up to ask you out) meteor shower - cavetown davy crochet - the backseat lovers (perhaps i'm biased on this one bc i crochet) stitch me up - set it off can't help falling in love - elvis presley cloud 9 - beach bunny ("even when we fade eventually to nothing / you will always be my favourite form of loving" really hits with his whole 'dying for love' thing) love grows (where my rosemary goes) - edison lighthouse paper rings - taylor swift jackie and wilson - hozier (there's a lot of hozier in his playlists, but he really likes the thought of a family with you, even if that's only a couple lines of the song) valentine - atlas sweet tooth - cavetown ("guess i must be satisfactory / you said you love me exactly the way i am" takes him Out i can just feel it) would you be so kind - dodie

[seiya-starsniper]

Sweet Hearts

Art by @designtheendless, who is currently taking Valentine's Day commissions for your OTP!

Read below, or over on AO3, and keep an eye out for an additional treat right at the end 💖🥰💖🥰💖

-----

“What—,” Silco asks, staring in horror at his daughter’s latest…acquisition, “in Janna’s name is that?”

“They’re called Sweet Hearts!” Powder answers with far too much excitement. “Aren’t they adorable?” she asks, holding the offending object even closer to Silco’s face. She either doesn’t notice or is choosing to ignore Silco’s disgust at such a—such a blatant waste of money.

The Sweet Heart, as she calls it, appears to be some sort of brightly colored candy…that just so happens to have her boyfriend’s face printed on it. In full color. They’re small, about the size of a copper coin if Silco had to guess. On closer inspection of the clear plastic bag in Powder’s other hand, there appears to be even more of the atrocities inside, including—

“Is that Vander’s face in that bag?” Silco practically screeches. Powder just laughs, tossing the Ekko heart back into the bag to join its unholy brethren, before she lifts it so that the Sweet Hearts are eye level.

“Yeah, Ekko and I sprung for the whole family!” Powder replies, and Silco desperately wants to know, but also not know how much she’s spent on…fancy candy. Why hadn’t Ekko stopped her? Silco was going to have a stern talk with the boy. “There’s a couple of Hearts with your face on them too, don’t worry!” she adds, shaking the bag for effect.

Silco in fact, had not been worrying about his lack of representation in the mixed bag of sugary confections. He’d rather the entire bag not exist at all, but it was already too late to hope for that.

“I—see,” Silco says, for a lack of a better response. “And where, exactly, did you acquire these?” He knows, even without her having to tell him. The bag itself was far too flashy for any of the businesses in Zaun, and only Piltover would find a way to create a single-use profiteering racket that preyed on the sentimentality of something as simple as a loved one’s portrait.

“At the HexChoc factory,” Power replies with a knowing look on her face, and ah damnit, she had him there. Powder knew that Silco only supported spending money on one business in Piltover, due to the fact that it was co-owned by a Zaunite whom Silco deeply respected. The fact that they made extravagant sweets was irrelevant.

“They were demonstrating how to print the images on the hearts on this new machine,” Powder continues, “and also giving out free samples.”

The mischievous grin on his daughter’s face tells Silco that Powder, by virtue of being Powder, had somehow swindled her way into an entire bag full of free heart-printed candies. Well, at least she hadn’t technically spent any money, but at the same time Silco finds himself mildly worried for Viktor’s profit margins. Jayce Talis’s business acumen certainly left plenty to be desired.

“What’s this?” Vander’s voice booms from behind Silco. Silco does not yell in surprise at his husband’s sudden appearance at his side, but it’s a near thing. 

“Sweet Hearts!” Powder answers cheerfully, before she opens the bag and starts digging around inside. Silco’s worried for a moment she’s going to pull one out with Benzo’s face on it, then realizes just a moment too late what she’s actually looking for.

“Look, it’s Silco!” Powder says before Silco can stop her holding out the bright pink heart to Vander, who takes it with a look of confusion. This was getting incredibly out of hand.

“Powder you know Vander doesn’t like sweets,” Silco sighs, before reaching out to take the heart out of his husband’s hand. But Vander snatches his hand back, surprising Silco.

Oh. Oh no.

“Where’d you say you got these, Pow?” Vander asks, voice wobbling as he cradles the candy heart like it’s made of gold.

Oh no, no, no, no, no—

“Jayce and Viktor!” Powder answers. “They said they’d be willing to make us more whenever we wanted too!”

Fuck.

Silco looks at his husband, wide-eyed and emotional over a piece of candy, and then back at his daughter, who has just bitten into a candy heart of Mylo’s face, and lets out a deep sigh. He was never seeing the last of these blasted candy hearts. And with Sweethearts Day around the corner, he was expecting to see a lot of them in the coming days.

“Hand me a Vander heart, Powder.”

Happy early Valentine's Day to the Zaundads/Vanco fandom! Y'all have been SO WONDERFUL to me as I dove headfirst into this ship, and ahead of Zaundads Week, I wanted to give a little token of my appreciation to every person that I've been able to share some joy with 🥰🥰. I love all of you dearly and am so happy to be trapped in this brainrot with you!

[twistedpink]

Who’s your valentine? @/cafekitsune banner

And the spinner says….

Idia + getting sick + quality time

“Hey… I know how this looks.”

The cabinets clatter violently with how you scramble against the wood- Veggies, boullion, and way too much water go in the pot. You hope he tastes the anger.

“Glad you’re self aware, Casper!”

“The friendly ghost?? Mid reference.”

The ‘how to not murder your boyfriend’ council in your head is screaming at him to shut up already, but you kind of want him to keep going. Just to watch him talk himself into a corner, like your shit-stirrer so often does. The least he could is entertain you after this royal betrayal,,

If there’s anything you regret about tonight, it’s not hating Idia more (not that you do hate him, but everyone can sympathize with a little trouble in paradise!). It doesn’t matter anymore if it was a work function or family dinner- He promised to go, and now even his immune system’s flaking!

The half-hate soup simmers in the background while your true crime show is playing ‘FBI torture: not clickbait!’ as a duet to Idia’s shakey sneezes.. God, you’re mean. He doesn’t even like this show, he’s just compliant enough to sit in on it! Because he likes you!! “Dinner’s ready.”

There’s something special about the way he looks up at you- His hair pools in a waterfall down his hunched back after jailbreaking from a low pony that you gave him, and his little sickie nose twitches at the warmth… He’s way too cute to stay mad at!! The hot spoon full of fresh soup presses faithfully against his lips, and you’re soon to realize that he’s never looked guiltier.

“You good, babe?”

“UH. um. Never better, babyface..? This soup’s totally meta, YEAH, that’s it! Just thinking about soup!”

“It’s not that good! But I’m not here to yuck your yum, let’s get you better. Love you.”

“Yup! That too,,”

. Cheezy catchphrases and emote sound effects blare from your surround-sound system (Ids insisted on on the thing, and you’re weak to begging), echoing off the comparatively bare boned living room setup. One thing you convinced Idia to do was drag all his gaming into the living room “to share” (you’re hardly allowed to touch anything, much less any guests) you just couldn’t ever sell him on the “normal” knickknacks, barely avoiding anime figures for decor.

He’d only half persuaded you into starting this rpg- All the fantastical races and classes usually melt together whenever mods come into play, but you’re really starting to enjoy yourself! You’re so invested in the current dialogue that you almost don’t notice a boyfriend-shaped beartrap wrap around your arm. Almost.

“Idia, are you sure everything’s okay?”

He forces out a weak ‘m sorry, and the game’s forgotten pretty quickly to start loving on him (great! Now you have to catch up later), you lavish kisses all over his face, mumbling pet names into his sensitive ears- Avoiding his crusted nose and making your way to his neck before he shoves a palm in your face with a little too much force. It’s not like you can get away with all his weight piled up on your thigh, that’s just rude!

“I’M FAKING!”

what

“What?? There’s no way you’re faking this, how dumb do you think I am?”

“It’s stupid. I licked a Petri dish at work so we wouldn’t go out. I’m super sorry!”

Before you know it, you’re giggling uncontrollably at the mental image of Idia licking a Petri dish, and running away- Leaving only licks as evidence. He is HORRIFIED. Maybe this is your murder giggle?? Regardless of whatever he’s thinking, the grip on your arm gets tighter, and he joins you with a couple entertained huffs.

“SHUT UP, YOU DIDNT! You’re the funniest guy I know! Next time, just let me know when you want to stay in. I’m pretty slippery when I want to be :),”

“Really?”

“Really. Either way, it was a good Valentine’s Day. Are you up for icecream?”

“Sure! And, uh,, happy Valentine’s Day. Ilyt.”