#These two pairings in their valentine's day episodes!!!

[moon-fics]

Pool Day

Pairing: Bob Reynolds x Reader

Summary: The team decided to request a pool, not thinking it would be made. Now, they have a pool.

A/n: Ugh! I love a good beach/pool episode! But this time, the relationship is established.

When Valentina asked if there was anything the team wanted in the tower, she meant like a training simulator or a chef. So, when Yelena spoke up, saying she wanted a pool, everyone backed her up. No one expected Valentina to actually go through with it because she didn't like them.

So, when Valentine announced the pool was done, everyone was flabbergasted. They were most astonished by the fact that she built it outside where the sun could be enjoyed. However, she said that was the last unnecessary request she'd be entertaining.

Of course, when the first day of summer rolled around, the pool was not forgotten.

---

You sit at the edge of the pool with your legs under the water. You're thankful you had time to buy a new swimsuit. It wasn't the best one you could find, but it'll do.

Yelena has found interest in sleeping on one of the floats. She's knocked out as the float hits one of the walls of the pool. Meanwhile, John is in the shallow area drinking a fruity smoothie. For the most part, everyone is relaxing for the first time in a while.

You sense a presence behind you and immediately turn. You're far too late, as two pairs of hands shove you into the chilly water. Your entire body is submerged, and water enters your nose. You pop out of the water, coughing and wiping your nose.

When you finally look up, you see Alexei and Bob standing where you were sitting. Alexei is hands on knees laughing and pointing at you as if he's pulled off a master prank.

"Is the water nice?" Bob asks. He holds out his hand for you to take. Even after shoving you into the pool, he's still kind enough to pull you back out. You should just take his hand and be thankful for the refreshing dunk. You aren't that type of person.

"Oh, wouldn't you like to know?" You grip his forearm and yank as hard as possible. He doesn't take a lot of effort to pull. The splash from his fall wakes up Yelena, who lifts her sunglasses as Bob pops up from the water.

"'Ey, I don't want any rough housing," She points at you and Bob with a raised eyebrow. "Don't wake me again," She warns and puts her sunglasses back on.

The moment Yelena is back to resting, Bob's arms wrap around your waist. His head rests on top of yours, and water drips from his chin to your nose. He creates a sort of shade over your face to block out the sun.

"I could get used to this," You keep your voice down. Bob hums in response. He sways both of you carefully while he enjoys the closeness. "Did you swim a lot in Florida?"

"Oh yeah, like, every day." He nods without hitting your head. He relinquishes his hold on you and spins you around to face him. "It was either the pool or the beach. I preferred the beach because when the wind is strong enough, the waves get super high."

"That sounds fun," You say. "We should have asked for a wave pool, too." You laugh. Maybe you can suggest it to Valentina as a way to train for water-based threats. Though you doubt she'd accept that answer.

"The last time I was in a wave pool, I got kicked in the head three times," Bob chuckles. His hands move to rest on your waist to keep you near him. "I'm pretty sure they should be banned for how dangerous they are." His face becomes serious as he thinks.

"Oh, you can't handle some waves?" You tease. You already have something in mind and begin floating away from him. His brows furrow, and he watches you get a few feet away. You wind up your arm and roughly glide it across the surface to create a small wave.

It drenches Bob once again, but once the splash clears, he's gone. Before you can react, his hands are on your legs. He efficiently drags you under, but cradles your head before it hits the floor.

You open your eyes, but the water makes everything blurry. All you can see is Bob's outline as it gets closer. His hands cup your face, and his lips press against yours as gently as possible. The kiss only lasts a few seconds due to a lack of air, but those seconds are like a treasure. His lips are all you can feel as your senses are blocked by the water.

When you emerge, you gasp for air, but he doesn't. You chalk it up to him having more experience in bodies of water than you.

Once you catch your breath, he calls your name. You look towards him only to be hit in the face by water. He forgets how strong he is and gets Yelena and John wet.

"Oh, come on!" John groans. He holds up his half drank smoothie that now has chlorine water in it.

"Ok, that's it! No more pool for you two!" Yelena shouts.

[spiderluvbot]

🖇TAKE ME BACK TO THE NIGHT WE MET ! jacaerys velaryon.

pairing — modern!jacaerys velaryon x fem!reader. summary — apparently, sleepovers are for meeting future boyfriends. genre — fluff, slice of life, first meetings. notes — this is pretty short, but i wanted to post something as a late valentine's day gift (it was meant to be a valentine's day gift but i spent all day yapping about cobra kai to my bby @orchidveil). hope you enjoy it 💗💗💗 warnings — none. word count — 1.101

this is part of my how to lose a guy in 10 days series.

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

jace got up from his bed one more time, exhaustion weighing him down, tense muscles groaning as he paced around the bedroom. a part of him wanted to leave helaena and her new friend alone, but it was nearing four a.m. and a bigger part of him needed at least two hours of sleep before they left for the lake house.

he sluggishly reached her door, his fist hovering in the air in doubt before finally knocking.

the door swung open almost instantly—but it wasn’t helaena. instead, he was met with a pajama-clad stranger with her face caked in shades of white and pink.

a cute stranger, with sparkly eyes and plump, glossy lips.

"uh, hi." the girl stared at him with wide eyes, her hand lifting in something that looked almost like a wave as she whispered awkwardy.

his eyes drifted past her. he could see helaena standing in front of her bathroom mirror (with a similar look, but changing the pink for yellow and bright green) and an episode of rupaul's drag race paused in the tv.

"hi, it's nice to finally meet you." he answered tiredly, offering what he hopped was a polite smile, before leaning against the doorframe in an attempt to catch his aunt's attention. "helaena, can we talk?"

as if she had just noticed his presence, she turned excitedly, running towards him with a handful of brushes and crashing against you in an attempt not to fall down. "jace! this is my friend y/n."

smiling at her antics, jace turned to you and reached a hand. "jacaerys."

"jacaerys?" you raised your eyebrows, which at the moment were nothing but thin, dark red lines, before shaking his hand.

he chuckled, looking down for a second. he liked the way you said his name.

"yeah, uh, jace." his cheeks had started to feel warm; your touch left a tingling sensation on his skin. he reached up to scratch his neck, trying to ignore the feeling your hand had left in his. "she talks a lot about you."

"all good things, i hope." you smiled at him, and the fluttering in his chest started waking him up more and more by the second.

"all good things, yeah." he whispered breathlessly. he turned back to his aunt, clearing his throat before discreetly nodding towards the hallway. "hel?"

she only frowned, not seeming to understand the gesture, before gasping in recognition.

"are we being too loud again? aemond came to complain about it a few minutes ago."

jace stole yet another glance your way. you stood quietly next to helaena, staring at him with a worried frown, and before he knew, it all of his complaints were gone.

"no, it's fine. i can't sleep anyways." bullshit. he had been trying to get a decent sleep for the past five hours, and the constant waking up was already taking a tool on him. but you were prettier when you smiled instead of looking concerned. "i was just wondering if you guys wanted some popcorn."

his fingers twitched nervously against his leg as helaena's gaze flicked back and forth between him and her friend. he hated popcorn, he's always hated popcorn. and right now he was praying to anyone that would listen that she didn't remember that small fact.

"sure, thanks!"

the breath of relief he was about to let out was cut short when helaena shut the door in his face. still, he couldn't help but walk away with a smile as he heard you chastise her for it.

a few minutes later he was sitting in the dark in the kitchen counter next to a big bowl, face smashed against his fist and eyes fighting to stay open as the hum of the microwave kept him awake.

he heard the wooden floor squeak and turned to find you approaching with hesitant footsteps, your hands tucked behind your back.

the make up was gone, replaced by those under eye patches that helaena liked to keep around, and he could finally see you fully. even in the dim light, you were prettier than he’d thought before.

"hey, i thought you could use some help."

he watched as you pulled the chair next to his, his eyes accidentally drifting to the sliver of skin between your shirt and shorts before he mentally scolded himself.

"hey! what happened with the—" he pointed to his face in explanation.

"oh, yeah i'm all clean now. sorry about that," you grimaced. "we're really into rupaul, apparently."

"what were you meant to be?" he asked.

"well i was meant to be marie antoinette, and i think helaena wanted to look like a mantis."

jace let out a small laugh, getting up as the microwave stopped. he saw you pull three glasses from the cupboard, and focused on the way your own laugh sounded as you walked past him.

the light from the refrigerator illuminated your face, momentarily distracting him as he poured the popcorn into the bowl. he hoped you hadn’t noticed him fumbling to pick up a few stray pieces.

"what do you want?" you asked, showing him two different bottles, but he wasn't paying attention to that. the soft light made your skin look warm, and his fingers itched to touch it while tucking away the stray strand of hair falling over your face.

"whatever you’re having is fine." he said with a small smile, waiting for you to finish.

once you headed back upstairs —and the two of you were in front of helaena's room once more— he allowed himself to stand closer to you, sure that the darkness would hide the prominent blush on his face, and handed you the bowl.

"i tought you were gonna have some too." you said, although it sounded more like a question.

"take it, i'm not that hungry." he shrugged.

"thanks, jace." you smiled brightly, handing him his glass before stepping inside and placing everything on helaena's nightstand.

he really liked the way you smiled, he liked the fact that you were smiling at him even more.

"wait!" he winced at his loud outburst as he watched you reappear in the doorway. "are you coming with us tomorrow? for the trip?"

"oh, yeah." you smirked, your pretty eyes teasing him. "you're gonna have to deal with me all week."

"i'm looking forward to it." he murmured to himself as he watched you close the door, too busy hurrying helaena out of the bathroom to look at him.

he didn't sleep at all that night, even when the two of you did. he was too busy thinking about you.

[number1jeonginstan]

Part of my Valentine's Day Collab!

A/N: My second installment!!! I wrote this one in one sitting, hopefully, y'all like it, please give me feedback because I love to read it <333

Pairing: FWB!Hyunin x Reader

WC: 2.5k

Warnings: Unprotected sex (obvi, it's me, Ju...), sex dice, foot job (m! receiving), fingering, cumming inside, fluffy sex but also not??!

Hyunjin, your best friend from high school, the man you had been sleeping with for the last 5 months because neither of you could find anyone to work around your schedules to sleep with, the person who you were getting drunk off of the expensive wine he was gifted, was begging you to roll a sex dice. 

It all started with the two of you deciding to spend Valentine’s Day together, instead of falling into cheap marketing tricks of spending upwards of hundreds of dollars on your significant others, you decided to spend it with your fuck buddy.

You had come to his apartment at around 7 at night, holding a box of chocolates that your co-worker had given you as well as takeout food for the two of you. 

The two of you sat down, watching a random show while munching on the Chinese food you had brought. 

“They definitely fucked after the episode was shot” Hyunjin giggled, taking a bite of the egg roll that was in your hand causing you to let out a quick “hey!” 

“I believe it” you replied back, taking note of their on-screen chemistry. “Their chemistry is just a bit too good” 

“Kind of like ours?” he giggled, stealing another piece of your food even though he had his own on the plate in front of him. 

“I aspire to be as delusional as you” you giggled, stealing a bite of his noodles as a way to get back at him. “Hey! Stop stealing my food!” he shouted, wrapping his arms around his plate to try and hide it from you. 

“So when you do it, it’s okay, but when I do it hell freezes over? That’s not very kind of you Mr.World Renound Model”  

“Exactly!” he grinned, kissing your lips before going back to the show in front of the two of you. 

Your brain short-circuited for a second, he had just kissed you, on the lips, when the two of you weren’t having sex. This is the first time he’s ever done that, maybe it was on accident you thought to yourself, trying to distract yourself, you quickly asked him if he had anything to drink. 

Maybe that’s what you had to do, loosen up, maybe you were just being a bit too up-tight because it was Valentine’s Day and you had vowed to never do couple-shit, but here you were with Hyunjin, but the two of you were just friends with benefits, right?

That’s what you kept telling yourself as you watched him open the bottle of wine for the two of you. You watched as his muscles flexed, his body ridden in only a black wife beater and grey sweatpants, the outline of his dick could be easily seen. 

You could feel yourself getting wet at the sight of him, no wonder he was so famous, he’s fucking beautiful. 

“I don’t have glasses anymore” he groaned taking out two mugs from his cabinet. One was littered with cats and the other with Minho’s face. 

You looked at the mugs gobsmacked as it took you a second to process them, and as soon as you did, you busted out laughing. “Holy shit, are these the only things you have?” you giggled, watching him pour the contents of the bottle into the mugs. 

“Hey, they were a gift from the cat lover himself” he replied, an offended look on his face. 

“I’m just kidding, this will do just fine” you grinned, taking the cup with Minho’s face from him only to be stopped. “I don’t want you drinking out of this one” he quickly stated, handing it back to him only to grab the one with Soonie, Doongie, and Dori. 

Little did you know the reason was because Hyunjin felt possessive over you, he didn’t want you drinking out a cup with another man’s face, an attractive one at that. 

He watched as you took a sip of the drink in your hands, the way the red liquor stained your lips, the slight blush on your cheeks as the two of you drank out of your designated cups. He could feel his cock slowly stir in his pants, the sight of you was enough to get him hard, but it wasn’t just that.

He wanted to kiss you for hours, go on dates, and cuddle with you, but he was too scared. Too scared to ask, too scared that you wouldn’t reciprocate his feelings. He sighed as you ate one of the chocolates you brought, watching the way you licked the caramel sauce off your fingers, grinning at the sight of your childish ways.

The two of you reminisced as you drank backs pressed against his couch, each sip of the fruity smooth liquid causing more and more of your secrets to slip, your laughs overlapping one another. It was peaceful, the sound of his laughter sounded like home, and for him vice versa. 

As more secrets spilled from both of your lips, he stated something that caught your attention. “Hannie actually gifted me sex die for Christmas as a joke” he chuckled, reminiscing on how he glared at him as he saw what was in the velvet box. 

“I thought they were the earrings I really wanted, but nope sex die. He did actually give me the earrings too, so not all was lost” he giggled, pouring more wine into his mug. 

“Want to try them out?” you shrugged watching as he almost gagged on his drink. 

“You really want to?” he stuttered, wiping the bit of wine that dribbled out of his mouth with the back of his hand. 

“I mean, why not? We can put that gag gift to use!” you grinned, crawling over to him, and straddling his lap. “Come on Jinnie, do you not want to?” 

You looked up at him with the doe eyes he was a sucker for. He couldn’t say no to you, especially when you had asked ever so kindly.

He picked you up, your legs wrapped around his hips arms around his neck as he walked you to his room, gently laying you on his bed as he rummaged through his desk for the die. 

You were on your back, hair splayed around you as you watched him, his eyebrows becoming unknit as he finally found them in the back of a drawer. 

“Here” he giggled, giving you the die to roll. “Let’s see” you whispered, looking at what it landed on. 

Right there, clear as day, the body part had landed on foot, the act was job. “Guess I’m giving you a foot job!” you giggled, watching his face go from one of worry to one of perplexity. 

“A what!” he shouted a bit too loud, causing you to laugh. “Come on, don’t tell me you are scared. Plus, aren’t you the one who wanted to and I quote “eat my feet”?”

“I was, but this might be uncomfortable for you” he whined, not wanting you to do something you weren’t one hundred percent sure about. 

“I’m not uncomfortable, plus I want to try it. If I don’t like it, or you don’t we don’t have to do it again” you explained to him, getting up on your knees to be face to face with him, your lips kissing his in reassurance. 

“I mean if you aren’t opposed to it–” 

“I knew it, Seungmin owes me 100 bucks” 

“You bet on me having a foot fetish?” he stuttered out. 

“Yes, now lay back” you stated, dragging him onto his bed, his back against the headboard as your foot brushed against his cock. He let out a groan at the contact, his dick already hard as soon as you brought up the die.

You slowly rubbed your foot against his sweatpants, watching the way his head was thrown back, slight moans leaving his lips as he pulled down his joggers. His already erect cock slapping against his stomach. 

You slowly brushed your pedicured foot along the underside of his cock, watching the way he bit his lip as your toes ran along his tip. “Fuck baby, just like that” he groaned, a hand slapping over his mouth as your toes curled along his length. 

Each pump of your foot around his cock made him closer and closer. “If you keep going like that, I’m going to cum” he whined. You slowly got up from your position across from him, straddling him as you kissed his lips. 

His lips formed a pout as you pulled away, your hands gravitating towards his head, brushing his hair behind his ear. “Has anyone told you how pretty you are” he whispered out loud, taking in the rise and fall of your chest.

He slowly pulled your shirt off your body, groaning at the sight of your tits, a black lacy bra adorning your breasts. “Fuck, these are so beautiful too” he whispered against your collarbones, kissing and biting them as he slowly traveled to your breasts.

He reached behind your back, unclipping your bra only to hear your breath catch in the air as he slowly pinched one of your nipples, sucking on the other one. 

“Jinnie” you whined, your hand running through his hair once again as he continued to abuse your chest.

“Such a whiney baby for me, I love it” he groaned as he left marks all over your chest, cupping your breasts. 

“Need you” you whined feeling your pussy drip at every passing moment that he wasn’t inside of you. 

“My baby needs me?” he chuckled, kissing your lips before slowly pulling down your own sweats, and throwing them somewhere in your room, along with your underwear. 

Before you could even do anything, he flipped you over, your body underneath him as he took sight of you. Your chest is littered with hickies, and your lips plump from kissing him over and over again. 

You were heaving as your hair surrounded your face. You were art and he wanted to stare at you forever. He took sight of your leaking pussy, his fingers trailing across it, catching the juices.

“You are so wet for me sweetheart, can’t believe you were trying to help me without taking care of yourself, such a selfless little girl” he whispered before slowly pushing his fingers into your cunt, stretching you out on his long fingers. 

“Just for you Jinnie, want to be such a good girl for you” you whimpered, your walls clenching around his fingers. 

“Yeah, you are a good girl for me, such a good girl, the best” he chuckled, kissing your lips as his fingers continued to abuse your cunt. He wanted to find that spot inside of you that made you go crazy. 

“You want to cum baby? Want to cum for me?” 

“Want to cum on your cock” you whined as you felt your high get closer as he slowly brought one of his fingers down to your clit. 

“My poor baby wants me to cum inside her, is that what’s it?” 

“Yes, want your cum Jinnie, please want it deep inside of me” 

“Who am I to deny such a sweet girl?” 

He slowly pulled his fingers out of you, eyes blown out at the sight of you whining at the loss of contact. He slowly ran the tip of his cock along your folds, watching as your poor little hole clenched around nothing but the air.

He gently slapped the tip against your clit, eliciting a quiet moan from your lips before dragging it down and slowly pressing his cock into your cunt, watching you as your eyes rolled behind your head as he sheathed the entirety of his cock into your tight little cunt. 

“Take my big cock” he groaned, slowly thrusting inside of you, your back arching slightly off the bed as he thrusts into you harder, lifting your hips up so he could hit the spot he had with his fingers minutes prior.

“Is it good baby?” 

“So good, such a good cock, only cock I want” you whimpered as his thrusts began to get faster, a finger trailing down to your clit giving you the extra stimulation you needed. 

“There we go baby, come on, cum on my cock. You can do it, cum on Jinnie’s cock” he groaned into your ear, feeling the way your cunt was wrapped around him, sucking his cock in as he fucked you. 

“Ah– too deep” you whined, you could feel him hit your cervix, the tip of his cock thrusting against it, but he didn’t stop. 

“There we go baby, good girls cum on my cock” he groaned, he could tell that your high was nearby the noises that escaped your lips, and the way your thighs were wrapped around his torso. 

It only took one more particularly deep thrust for your cunt to spasm around his cock, sucking him in deeper.

“So good!” you screamed, your head lolling to the side as he continued to pound into as he chased his own high. 

“Fuck, gonna cum into this tight little pussy” he whined into your neck, his thrusts getting more sporadic as he came deep inside of you, your walls drinking up every ounce of his cum. 

He fell on his back as you wrapped your arms around him, his cock softening inside of you. 

He looked at you, brushing the hair off your face. 

“I should get going” you whispered to no one but yourself. Before you could even get up, he stopped you. “Don’t please” he whined, his hand wrapped around your wrists. 

“Please baby, I want to spend every Valentine’s Day with you. I want to take you on dates, I want to make you breakfast in bed. I want to do every sappy thing we said we hated about couples with you. Please, let me do this for you, with you” he pleaded, kissing your cheeks and then your lips.

He pulled away, waiting for your response, his eyes pleading for you to say yes. 

“As long as you don’t poison me with your terrible cooking, I would love to go out with you” you giggled, kissing his lips.

“This isn’t a dream is it?” he whispered out loud, thinking to himself. 

“It isn’t” you giggled, cuddling him closer to your body, your head laying against his chest. Maybe Valentine’s Day isn’t as bad as you thought. 

[heyimkana]

24 Hours with You (Satoru Ver.) - Ep. 1

Series Masterlist Chapter Summary: The first episode of a mini-series where you’ll live through the hours you spend together with your husband, Gojo Satoru. Pairings: Gojo Satoru x Female Reader Genre: Domestic AU, Fluff, Romance, Smut, Humor Word Count: 8K Warnings: whipped, clingy husband!Satoru, sassy!Y/N, shoujo manga inspired backstory, endless sex jokes, and overall cavity-inducing fluff with a little bit of smut at the end (no actual sex scenes...yet)

Episode 1: Morning

06.02 AM

Your very much-needed sleep abruptly comes to an end the moment your husband’s alarm—not yours—begins to ring, his phone vibrating on the nightstand next to his side.  You try to ignore it. You really do. After all, he just let you go to sleep three hours ago.

Granted, yesterday was Valentine’s Day and there was no way someone as insatiable as Gojo Satoru was going to end it with just one or two rounds of normal sex, especially not after he went out of his way, spending hundreds of bucks to buy you a set of lingerie that he’d been dying to see. He made sure to dress you up (you’re his favorite doll after all), his grin plastered ever so cheekily on his face. He held his phone steady in one hand, recording the way you not-so-gracefully stepped outside the bathroom in your new lingerie, dying out of shame because—“What the hell did you buy me?!” Which he casually replied with, “A bunny suit. Now turn around and let me see your tail.” To be honest, that wasn’t even the worst part.

(The worst part was when he said, “Now is my little bunny hungry for some carrots? ‘Cause I got a real nice and big carrot for you right over he—” He didn’t get to finish his line. You punched him.)

The alarm continues to ring, playing a song that you grow to hate more and more each day. “Ugh, turn it off.” 

Satoru doesn’t even stir in his sleep, which comes as no surprise. He’s still lying flat on his stomach, facing you with his cheek drowning in the comfort of his pillow. He looks peaceful. Innocent. Even when his parted lips are still somewhat smeared with the color of your lipstick. And he’s drooling—in an adorable way, of course.

“Satoru.” You nudge his shoulder. “Sa. To. Ru.”

No reaction. It’s like talking to a dead cow. You groan, your upper body pressing against his backside as you reach out to snatch his phone from the nightstand. With bleary eyes, you turn off his alarm before returning it to the table. You fall back to the side of your bed, flinching as your body still feels sore from last night. 

A smile forms on your face. Finally, it’s quiet again. 

You still have two more hours before you have to leave for work. I can still sleep for one hou—

The alarm starts again, playing the same damn song. 

Of course. How could you forget? Satoru’s the type who sets his alarm every ten minutes just because he’ll totally ignore the first fifteen times. Are you really this tired to not remember this? Yeah, probably.

You pull your blanket over your head. Maybe you can just pay no attention to it like your husband.

Just ignore it, ignore it, ignore it.

Yeah, you can’t.

You toss away your blanket, frustrated. “Satoru, turn it off!”

Finally, the devil wakes up. He moans, his voice husky and heavy with sleep, sounding so effortlessly sexy but you’re just too irritated to acknowledge it that way. “What’s up with the loud noise..?” Sinking back into his pillow and tugging his bedcover up until it reaches his ear, he mumbles, “Honey, I’m still sleepy… Let’s fuck some other time…”

“Oh, we’ll fuck never if you don’t wake up and turn that damn thing off.”

“It’s your alarm.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Yes.”

“Toru, it’s literally Hatsune Miku playing.”

He giggles, still with his eyes closed. “I love Hatsune Miku.”

“Oh, for God’s sake.” You repeat your motions, basically throwing yourself over him so you can reach his nightstand. Satoru lets out a little oof under your weight, groaning. “Babe, what—” You turn a deaf ear to him, making sure to sink your elbow into his back because he deserves it. Once you get his phone in your hand, you switch it off—the phone, not the alarm. “There. Done.” You slap back his device to the table. “Now let’s go back to sleep.”

You’re about to jump back to your side when a pair of strong arms tangle themselves around your waist, pulling you down until you land face-first on his bare chest. “I don’t think so, pumpkin,” he simpers, nuzzling the tip of his nose against the crook of your neck. Suddenly, he’s as bright as daylight. “I can’t believe you’re being so aggressive this morning. Did we not do it enough last night?” He puckers his lips, baby-talking you when he says, “Is my little baby bunny still hungry for her carrot?”

“Satoru, I’ll say this as nicely as I can. Release me now or there will be blood.”

“How is that nice?” He pouts, jutting out his lower lip. He’s hitting thirty and he still thinks he’s adorable when he does that (he is, actually, but let’s not tell him that). 

Now, boyfriend Satoru would have insisted on holding you close, but husband Satoru? Oh, husband Satoru has gone through some pain. He knows better not to test you. He releases you with a sigh, his eyes drooping like a sad puppy as he watches you crawl back to your spot. “You’re so mean.”

“You love me that way.”

The corners of his lips twitch up again. “That I do.” 

Satoru turns around to his side, gazing at you with the bottom half of his face concealed by the blanket he shared with you. He doesn’t really tell this often, but he loves seeing you in the morning like this. That silky nightgown. Those kiss marks on your neck and shoulders. The way your hair is so messy from all the tugging and pulling he did last night. You’re his masterpiece.

“What?” You ask, unable to sleep with how he glues his eyes on you.

“Nothing,” he smiles to himself. “You’re so pretty.”

At this hour? “That’s bullshit.”

“It’s true!”

“Well, thank you for the praise, my dear husband, but complimenting me isn’t going to make me give you a blow job at six in the morning, so can you stop staring and let me sleep? I have work in two hours. One hour and a half now ‘cause you keep on yapping at me.”

To anyone else, you would sound vicious, but like you said so yourself, this is why he loves you. To Satoru, you look the prettiest when you’re annoyed, especially when you’re annoyed because of him. It makes him feel special in such a weird way. Having spent all his life being objectified by women—and men—for his looks, and treated with endless flattery because he came from a prestigious family, you, with your feisty attitude, appeared in his world like a breath of fresh air. 

(Or maybe he’s just a masochist.)

With lips curving in joy, he pokes your cheek. “Babe, babe.”

“Go to sleep, damn it.”

“I will after you answer my question.”

“Just one?”

“Just one. Promise.”

“Fine. What?”

“Do you remember when we first met?”

You open your lids, staring flatly at the ceiling above you. This dumbass is really trying to play his nostalgia card at six in the morning. You take a glance at him from the corner of your eye. He has stars in his eyes. Great. You know he’s expecting a long answer but it’s too fucking early for this. “Yes.”

“You do?” He props himself up on his elbows, his voice a pitch higher. He’s basically sparkling, giddy with excitement. “What was it like for you? What did you think about me? Did you like me from the very first start? Did the world freeze when your eyes met mine? Hehe, I bet you had a massive crush on me~ I see you’re not saying anything so is it true? You totally did, didn’t you? Oh my God, baby, that’s so cute!”

You just lie there on the bed, half-dead, half-deaf, zero energy and he keeps prattling in your ear. “You’re really not gonna let me go back to sleep, huh?”

“Nope,” Satoru replies, making sure to smack his lips in case he wasn’t irritating enough. “Hey, hey, answer me, answer me.”

Somebody kill me, please. “Okay, fine, you wanna know the truth? I used to hate your guts.”

“Eeeeeeeeh?” 

“Don’t eeeeeeh me.” You pinch his cheek, ruining his pretty pout. “We couldn’t stand each other during high school, remember?”

“I never hated you, though?” He’s sliding his arms under his pillow, hugging it close as he peers at you with a twinkle in his eyes. “I’ve always found you cute,” he confesses, followed by a girly squeal. Satoru buries his face in the pillow, his legs flapping against the bed. “Aaaaah~ Saying it out loud like that is so embarrassing~”

“I’m gonna punch you.”

“No, seriously. You’ve never heard me saying I hated you, have you? And you know me. I hold my grudges. If I hated you, I would’ve made your life a living hell. But I didn’t, right?” He takes your hand, his thumb gliding across your knuckles before he replaces it with his lips. “I made you the happiest woman in the world instead.”

“With your money.”

“With my love,” he corrects you, flicking your nose. “Do me a favor and try to remember the first time we met. Didn’t I show you enough how much I liked you?”

The first time we met?

Okay, a little flashback.The first time you met him, it felt like you were living the life of a shoujo manga protagonist. Remember all those corny stories you read back in middle school? When character A—a female lead who was so clumsy, it was a wonder she survived the whole trip to school—met character B—the handsome male lead who seemed aloof and mysterious but turned out to be nothing but a warmhearted kid with a traumatizing backstory—in front of the school’s gate where they exchanged long stares filled with yearning and affection even though they just met? It always happened in the spring, for some reason, at the beginning of a new term. There were cherry blossom petals fluttering in the background, the words thump thump and syalala~ scattered all over the page among her inner monologue that went something like, “What a handsome boy… He looks like Prince Charming… And he has such long eyelashes too… Oh no, what is this feeling? Calm down, my heart! At this rate, he’s going to hear it!” Remember those corny lines? Yeah, well, your story went down just about the same.

“What are you panicking about? Just climb up and jump.”

“I can’t climb—I’m wearing a skirt!”

“You’re worried that I’ll see your panties? Honey, please, I’m a gentleman. I won’t stare. Plus, polka-dot panties aren’t my thing.”

“HOW DO YOU KNOW I’M WEARING POLKA-DOT PANTIES?!”

Okay, maybe your story didn’t go exactly the same. But it’s true that you first met him in the spring, at the beginning of the school’s term. There were no cherry blossom trees swaying in the background because God hated you and He wasn’t that fond of adding pretty things into your life. Gojo Satoru was pretty, sure, but only until he started yapping. And knowing Satoru, he’s always yapping.

You had promised yourself earlier that day that you’d do better. Be better. No more running late to school, no more procrastinating on your homework, and maybe even try to socialize more with people (you shuddered at the thought). You didn’t wake up late that morning, and you went to school just on time but there was a car accident on your way there, forcing you to take a detour, so—

“I hate my life,” you grumbled to yourself, staring tiredly at your high school’s gate in your fresh uniform that was no longer as crisp and tidy as it was from all the running you did. The huge wrought iron gate was closed and locked. The students were already sitting in rows inside the hall, sleeping through your principal’s morning greeting. You had your bag slinging on one shoulder, your short, pleated skirt swaying as it was kissed by the wind. Your hair was sticking uncomfortably to your skin, glued by your sweat. So much for wanting to keep perfect attendance, you thought. This is the worst.

Little did you know that God in heaven was like, “Worst? Oh, honey, I’m just getting started.”

Because there he was, a devil sent from the deepest pit of hell. Your ‘Prince Charming’, walking out of a fancy black car and kicking the door closed without even thanking the poor driver. Gorgeous silver hair. Electric blue eyes. Piercing in his right ear and a bubblegum lollipop in his mouth. 

Gojo Satoru.

He was a second-year student just like you but that was all you had in common. He was popular, so popular, and you didn’t have to think long to figure out why. He was a prodigy, excelling in both sports and academics, never failing to rank first in every exam, and it was so exasperating because he never seemed to pay attention to any of his classes. He was just born smart. And rich. Always carrying the new iPhone, never wearing the same outfit when he traveled outside. His Instagram was filled with photos of him taking trips to Greece and outer space (not true). His socks were made of rare breed silkworm’s saliva and his shirts were ironed by a dozen crying maidens (also not true). Apparently, his father was this big CEO who worked really closely with the government so you often heard his family name mentioned on TV. And, to top it all, he was handsome. Like unbelievably handsome. Even you had to admit that. Ridiculously tall, naughty smirk, pretty voice. He was the boy that Taylor Swift would make a whole album about.

Lucky bitch.

“I know,” Satoru said, noticing the way you were staring at him as he walked closer to your spot. He pulled the lollipop out of his mouth, gazing down at you (because, again, he was as tall as a tree) with one corner of his lips raised higher than the other. “I’m handsome.”

You weren’t exactly staring at him because he was handsome—okay, yeah, maybe you did. A little. “You’re late too?”

You had never interacted with him before and you were 99.9% sure he didn’t know your name, so maybe you should’ve started by introducing yourself to him. Or telling him not to be so cocky ‘cause who the hell started a conversation like that?

“Yep.” He plopped his lollipop back into his mouth, coloring his tongue blue. “But unlike you, I chose to be late. Needed my beauty sleep, you see, but you get that.” He stretched out both hands in the air, cracking his neck. A little strip of perfect fair skin was shown above his belt but you looked away, clearing your throat. 

“So,” he yawned. “Are you going to climb first or should I?”

“What?”

“The gate, genius.”

“You want me to climb up the gate?” 

“How else are you planning to go inside?”

“Well, true, but…” You looked around. Your usual school guard was nowhere in sight. Yes, the gate was quite high and you could hurt yourself making your way down but he could lend you a hand, right? It would be easy. You could stealthily slip yourself into the student’s hall after that. No one would notice. There would be no problem.

Well, aside from one thing.

“What are you panicking about? Just climb up and jump.”

“I can’t climb—I’m wearing a skirt.”

Satoru arched an eyebrow before he chuckled. “You’re worried that I’ll see your panties? Honey, please, I’m a gentleman. I won’t stare. Plus, polka-dot panties aren’t my thing.”

You blanched. “How do you know I’m wearing polka-dot panties?!”

“Oh, I got it right?” He rolled his lollipop to the side of his mouth for the sake of putting his annoying smile on display. “I must be a psychic or something. On top of my good-looking face? God really does have His favorite, huh?”

“Probably 'cause He feels sorry for giving you such a shitty personality.”

His jaw dropped. He knew he had a shitty personality but he thought girls loved that about him. “Well, aren’t you feisty,” he muttered, and you were worried for a split second that you might have upset him—not that you cared about his feelings specifically, you just didn’t want to jeopardize your connection with him (He was rich, okay? It would be great for your future career if you were friends with someone like him). But then, Satoru stuck his hands inside the pockets of his pants, leaning close with his lips pulled back in a cheeky grin. “You’re unlike anyone I’ve ever met. Wanna go on a date?”

Oh, that did it. Those little chances of you having a crush on him? Gone. “Gross.”

“Ouch, okay, that actually hurts,” he pouted, rubbing the center of his chest where you just shoved him. After taking a moment to examine your face—you really did look like you wanted to kill him—Satoru gave up with a sigh, shrugging. “Well, whatever. I’m going in.” He pivoted on his heels, making his way toward the gate. “I’ll see you never, Polky.”

“Wait!” 

He clicked on his tongue, turning around to say, “Yell louder, will ya? Our school’s guard is practically deaf but I’m sure people in China would love to hear what you have to say.”

“You’re annoyingly talkative.”

“Part of my charm,” he replied. “I feel bad for you for not seeing it, honestly. Now, what is it? First period’s about to start.”

You thought about it, your eyes flying back toward the double-door gate that was attached to the compound wall. It looked sturdy enough to maintain both of your weights. If you made the jump, you’d still have the chance of being the perfect student for the rest of the semester. But did you really want to ask for his help? He was definitely not going to let it go if that was the case. Oh, you knew he was going to be so annoying about it.

“Any day now, cupcake.”

Yeah, I’m not doing it. You weren’t the type who was so against swallowing your pride if the circumstances demanded you to, but if it involved him? You’d rather die. “You know what, it’s fine. I’ll just go home.”

“What?” He knitted his eyebrows, watching you spin around on your heels. You were truly a piece of work, huh? So stubborn to admit that you needed his help. Throwing back his head and groaning dramatically, he exclaimed, “Ugh, fine. Just give me your bag.”

“What—Hey!” 

With nimble hands, Satoru managed to snatch it away before you could let the thought sink through. He carried it with one hand, not stopping under your command. You chased after him, and you were so close to getting it back before he flung your bag to the other side of the gate—and so carelessly, mind you. 

You watched it land on the ground in horror. “Are you crazy?! I got my iPad in there!”

“Whoops,” he grinned, clearly didn’t feel sorry in the slightest. “Okay, your turn, Princess. Come on, I’ll give you a lift.” 

Ugh, why is this happening to me? Left with no choice, you made your way to him. “Don’t call me that.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” He bent his body forward, exaggerating a bow. “I meant, it is now your turn, oh her Royal Highness of the Democratic Republic of Polkaland—”

You pushed him down by the shoulders. “Shut up and get down on your knees.”

“Oooh, so demanding~” he cooed, but his flirty tone vanished instantly the moment he felt your foot stepping on his shoulder.  “Whoa, wait—dude, your shoes!” 

Okay, that was your bad. Should’ve taken them off before you did that. Now his black blazer was painted with soil. “Sorry,” you winced. “I’ll help you clean later.”

“Yeah, yeah. You weigh like a ton, by the way.” Oh, you know what? He deserved it. Actually, he deserved more dirt. “Are you rubbing your soles on me?” He gasped.

“You wanted clean shoes, right?”

“Not by using me!”

You ignore him, curling your fingers around the iron bars. “I’m going up. Promise me you won’t look.”

Satoru sighed. “Like I said, I’m not interested in seeing your—aw, aw, aw, aw!” Tears emerged in his eyes. Not only were you stepping on him, you were also using his head to maintain your balance, gripping his strands a little too tightly when you felt that you were seconds away from slipping. “Fuck—Stop pulling on my hair!”

“I’m trying not to fall!” You regained your balance. Feeling a bit sorry, you placed both hands on the bars, gripping them firmly as you stood on his shoulders. You stretched out one arm, fingers clawing against the iron as you tried to reach the top. You got it. Now, all you needed to do was pull yourself up. 

On the count of three. One… Two… Three… Pull!

Eh?

“What now?” Gojo asked, his patience wearing thin. His shoulders were throbbing in pain. You weren’t actually that heavy for him. It was the way you were stepping on him, treating him like mud that’s the issue.

You felt your cheeks growing hot, your voice reduced to whispers when you answered, “I can’t do it.”

“What?”

“I can’t pull myself up, okay?!” You yelled in shame. You had calculated everything except for the part where you barely had any muscles in your arms to carry your own weight. “I’m too weak!”

“And you couldn’t have thought about that before you used me as your doormat?!”

“See, this is why I told you I was going home!”

“But your bag is over there—”

“WHOSE FAULT DO YOU THINK THAT IS?!”

Oh, both of you were giving each other headaches for sure. “Okay, let’s try another plan,” Satoru said. “I’ll go first and I’ll pull you up.”

“Can you? You’re built like a twig and you said I weighed a ton.”

“It was a joke, Polky, lighten up. And excuse me, I have muscles, all right? You just can’t tell underneath all these clothes I’m wearing.”

“It was a joke, Twiggy, lighten up.”

“Oh, you little—”

“Enough, we don’t have much time.” You climbed down his shoulders, exhaling in relief once you were back on the ground. “Want me to give you a push?”

“As much as I would loveto use you as my doormat, I got this.” He brushed the dirt off his shoulder and tossed his lollipop to the nearest bin. “You just stand there and look pretty,” he winked. “And try not to fall in love with me too fast.” 

Before you could land a kick to his shin, Satoru made his leap, making it look so easy that it almost convinced you to give it another go. He sat down on the top rail—thank God, this gate didn’t have any finials—with his legs settled on both sides to maintain his balance. He took a quick scan of his surroundings to make sure you were alone before he tossed his own bag to the ground. “Okay, I think we’re safe.”

Satoru returned his attention to you, and for a moment, you exchanged stares. “What?” You narrowed your eyes, suspicious. He just grinned, flashing his teeth and you knew he was up to something again. “No,” you mumbled out as realization dawned on you. “You’re going to leave me here?!”

“Abandoning my princess? Of course not.” His eyes glinted with mischief. “Say that you’ll go on a date with me and I’ll pull you up.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Am not.”

“I don’t even know you.”

“Well, this is your chance to get to know me,” he smirked. “Come on, just one date. I’ll take you somewhere fancy.”

“Not interested.”

His smile slowly began to fade the more you rejected him. “You’re seriously saying no?”

“Want to hear it in German? Nee.”

“That’s Dutch.”

“Whatever.”

Satoru took a moment to himself, both confused and baffled (and a bit amused, actually). But surely, no one would reject the Gojo Satoru, right? Yet, there you were, glaring at him as you said so. “Huh,” he poked his tongue against his cheek. You weren’t sure whether he found you vexing or even more… interesting. He accepted his defeat with a heavy exhale, just for now. “Fine. Call me Your Majesty then. If you do it cutely, maybe I’ll pull you up.”

“Oh my God, why are you suchan ass, Satoru?”

“Oh, the princess knows my name!” He claimed in delight, already forgetting the shame from your rejection. “It’s about time you tell me yours.”

“Yes, it’s Miss Fuck Off from Class B. Now, give me your hand and pull me up!”

“Say the magic word then.”

Oh, this isn’t worth it. This is so not worth it. “Fine,” you said, and to his surprise, you whirled around and walked away.

“Wait, you’re leaving?” His smirk faltered. “What about your bag, Sweetheart?”

You didn’t bother to look back. “I don’t care. I’ll get it tomorrow.”

“That’s stupid!”

“I’d feel stupider if I had to kiss your ass.”

“Would you prefer to kiss my lips instead?”

“Goodbye!” 

You stomped away. For a couple of seconds, there was silence, and you thought, oh, I actually managed to shut him up. You mentally gave yourself a pat on the back. You might not have your bag with you. Or your wallet. Or your phone. And if you were really planning to go home like this then you’d have to walk for five blocks, but! At least you got to leave him speechless. That was quite an achievement, wasn’t it?

“If you come with me I’ll pay for your iPad!”

You’re back at the gate. “Would you be so kind as to lend me a hand, your majesty?”

Satoru laughed. A genuine laugh actually came out from the devil’s mouth. It almost felt strange. Somewhere deep down, you imagined that he’d have a creepy laugh, or maybe even maniacal. But no. His laugh was so, so adorable. So boyish. So…heartwarming. It was the kind of laughter that would make you smile even when you were clueless of what he was laughing about.

“You’re funny, I like you,” he said, sending tingles to your cheeks which turned you completely into the typical shoujo manga protagonist. 

Eew, what the fuck, did my heart just skip a beat? Gross.

Congratulations. You just had your first shoujo manga-worthy inner monologue.

Satoru extended his hand. “You better hold tight, Princess.”

“If you let go, I’ll kill you.”

“I’ll keep you safe, I promise.” Another smile, and there it was again. Your heart doing things inside your chest. You tried to find some excuse, blaming all of this on his looks.

Satoru pulled you up, holding you securely yet so gently by the waist once you reached the top rail. He held you close, noticing how you were shaking a little bit when you felt the fence rattle underneath your weight. This is strong enough to hold us both, right? You couldn’t help but worry. When you were finally sure you were fine, you began to notice the pleasant, intoxicating smell lingering on the little space between you. His scent… It was wonderful—sumptuous and warm, and you figured, that described him perfectly as a person. A mix of cedar woods and cypress, with a bit of sweetness to it. It almost reminded you of—

“The Last Day of Summer.”

You blinked twice. “Huh?” 

“My perfume,” he smirked. “The Last Day of Summer by Gucci. You like it?”

“What—no,” you scoffed. “I didn’t even notice it. You smell like sweat.”

“Is that so?” He was definitely not buying your bluff, but he played along, just for a moment. Satoru leaned in, his right hand moving from the dip of your waist to your wrist, his fingers covering yours. You could feel the tips of his strands tickling your cheek, your body freezing up the moment his breath grazed your neck. You found yourself holding your own, your eyes closing shut when he took a sniff at you.

Wait. Sniff?

Satoru pulled away, scrunching up his nose. “I think that’s you, Polky. Did you miss your shower this morning or what?”

“I will push you.”

“Aaw, but then who’ll help you get back down?” He tugged you toward him, his face hovering just a few inches above yours. He tapped his finger against your nose, matching the words he said, “Not. So. Smart. Are you, baby?”

“You—”

“HEY! YOU TWO!” 

The thundering voice of a man caused you both to flinch. Your gym teacher—Yaga Masamichi—was there, probably glaring from behind his sunglasses and fuming in his sweaty track pants. “What are you doing?! It’s your first day and you’re sneaking out already?!”

“Interesting point,” Satoru answered, unbothered. “We’re actually planning to sneak in.”

“Teacher’s office. Now.” He didn’t have the patience—or maybe the time?—to stay and lecture you both. He walked away, grousing under his breath.

You let out a heavy sigh. It was only ten in the morning and you already felt so tired. Unlike you, Satoru was still brimming with energy. If anything, he seemed even cheerier than before. “Well, it sucks that we got caught but we had fun, right?”

“Let’s just get this over with.”

“Okay, Miss Grumpy.” He so casually ruffled your hair as if you had been friends for years. “I’ll go first.” He hopped off the fence, landing back on earth almost as gracefully as a cat. You wished you could follow his lead but from that height? You weren’t so confident. “It’s all right, Princess,” he said, noticing your worry. “I’ll be here to catch you.” 

That was actually one of your concerns. Not because he didn’t seem like he’d be capable of doing so, but more of what would come after he caught you. 

You’d be… in his arms, right? And then what?

Fuck, it’s just Satoru. You didn’t even care about him until now. Just jump.

So, you did. Without thinking too much about it, you removed your hands from the railing, but you didn’t jump toward him as you were too stubborn—and embarrassed—to do so. The chance of killing yourself over this was close to zero, right? You’d be fine.

You could feel your feet touching the ground. You were okay. Or at least, you thought you were. Your shoes, unfortunately, weren’t made to do such a reckless stunt. Your soles were too slippery, and like stepping on ice, you lost your footing, your eyes burned by the blazing sunlight as you felt gravity pull you down.

Until a pair of arms wrapped themselves around your waist.

“For God’s sake,” Satoru said, and you felt his words reverberating from his chest since you had your face pressed against it. He sighed, removing one hand from your hips to cup the back of your head. “You should’ve jumped towards me, you idiot.” You could feel his long fingers slipping between your locks, forgetting to breathe air into your lungs when he pulled away, gazing at you solemnly. “Look, it’s cute to be stubborn and not want to ask for my help, but what would you do if you got hurt?”

It’s corny to say this (actually, everything that had happened in the last fifteen minutes was corny. You weren’t sure why your life—and yourself—had turned into this state. You were doing okay before he showed up in your life.) but you were lost in his gaze. The sky above you was brilliant blue, so breathtaking as it was painted by God Himself, and yet… When you compared that to his eyes... 

They’re so pretty… He has such long eyelashes too…

(You have got to stop reading shoujo manga. Seriously. Maybe head over to shounen. Blood, death, and eternal suffering—that would stop you from thinking about his lashes.)

Satoru was close. So, so close, that a butterfly awakened in your chest.And was it just your imagination or was he leaning even closer to you?

“Huh…” he mumbled out. Locking your eyes together, he gazed deep into yours, not romantically—though you were too consumed by his stare to tell the difference. It was more like… He was in awe. 

You fidgeted. “W-what?”

“Your eye color changes a little under the sun,” he smiled, sweet and youthful. “Pretty.”

Mush. There was only mush in your head. And Satoru. “You—You’re too close! Get off me!”

He giggled, easily catching your hand before you could shove him away. “You’re blushing? So cute~”

“Why are you two still here?!” Yaga, the same teacher from before, returned with a volleyball in hand. Apparently, he left earlier to get his equipment. “Didn’t I tell you to go already?!”

“We’re going!” Satoru released you, clicking his tongue in annoyance—maybe a habit? “I swear to God, that man needs to get laid.”

“I heard that, Satoru!”

“I wanted you to hear that, Sensei!”

“Are you crazy?!” You slapped his chest. “That’s a teacher you’re talking to!”

“Relax, my grandpa owns this school. He can’t touch me.”

Why am I not surprised? Biting back your sigh, you took a step back, only to realize, great, I bruised my ankle.

He noticed, even when you were trying your best to hide it. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” you said, doing as best as you could to walk without limping. “Thanks for the help. I’ll see you never.”

He matched your steps. “Did you sprain your ankle?”

“Just a bruise.”

“We should visit the infirmary first, just in case.”

“We?”

“I can’t possibly let you go alone.” He sounded like you were asking a dumb question. “Half of this was my fault anyway.”

“Yeah, ‘cause you threw my bag—”

“Because I’m so handsome that you felt too shy to just jump into my arms,” he spoke over you. His lips curving. “Wouldn’t have injured yourself if you just did what I said. But don’t worry. I’m sure there will be another chance.”

I hope not, you shuddered.

“Seems like you’re in pain, Sweetheart.”

“I’m fine.” 

“Want me to carry you?” He beamed at you. “Piggyback ride? I can do it bridal style too, if you want. It will be so cute, we can head toward the sunset together after school.”

“I’d rather die. And stop following me. I’m heading to the restroom.”

“Running away from me? Coward.”

“You want me to pee on you? ‘Cause I’ll do it.”

“Kinky, but maybe some other time.”

Thankfully though, he listened to you this time, returning back the privacy you’d been craving since the moment he opened his mouth. He watched you walk away, his lips slowly curving back up as a new sense of excitement and joy filled his chest. “Hey, Princess!” He shouted, making sure that you’d hear his next words even with the distance between you. “I’ll see you on Sunday!”

“For what?!”

“Our date!”

“Oh, fuck off!”

And that was it. That was how you met your husband. To sum up, he had no sense of delicacy, he talked too much, had no respect for your personal space, and the way he snickered every time he saw you? Ugh. Yes, he was pretty. Yes, he made your heart race. But you’re not that shallow of a woman to be with someone just because of their looks so nothing ever happened. Not right away, at least.

These childish banters and unfortunate meetings kept occurring during your years in high school. And as if that wasn’t enough, God reunited you once again in college. You thought you were cursed. He thought it was destiny. You still remember how you used to hold yourself back from ripping out his hair whenever he walked up to you, grinning from ear to ear while singing—not calling—out your name. But then you had this one class with him during your final year and your professor put you two on the same project together. You started getting to know him better, and you found out that Satoru had more sides to him, more complex than just a little brat who craved your attention. You got closer. You stopped rejecting his calls. You missed his cheeky grins when he wasn’t around. And when he kissed you when you were crying because your dog just died? It wasn’t that bad. It was comforting. It was warm. And sweet. It was wonderful.

(Yes, out of all the times he could’ve picked, he kissed you after you buried the precious family member who’d wiggled his tail for you for seven years)

And before you know it, he asked you to be his forever and you said yes. Immediately. Undoubtedly. Wholeheartedly. 

“Earth to wifey~” Your husband Satoru pops his head back into your vision. The ceiling that you’ve been staring at for the last few minutes turns blurry behind him. You blink, placing your focus back on him. “You suddenly turned quiet. Is it really that hard to answer my question? Babe, if you tell me you forgot about our first meeting, I’m actually going to shed some real manly tears.”

You heaved out a sigh. “Actually, it’s the opposite. I remember it all too well.”

“Aaaw, baby~” He reaches over to kiss you, only to have you slap a palm over his face.

“Now that I think about it,” you say. “You were so annoying when we first met. And disrespectful.”

He blinks, sweating. “B-babe?”

“Not to mention narcissistic, selfish, impolite—”

“Wait, hold up—What’s going on?!”

“You called me Polky. You called me fat—”

“Wait, this is not the reaction I wanted—You’re supposed to fall deeper in love with me!”

“You threw my bag without permission. You never paid back for what you did to my iPad. You kissed me on my dog’s funeral—oh wow, you were a little piece of—”

“Okay, forget the past, forget the past! Remember that you love me!”

“I think you should go back to your side of the bed.”

“Babeeeeeeee, I’m sorryyyyyyyyy!” He whines, tackling you in a hug, and rubbing his face on your stomach. “You can have my credit card for today. Buy anything you want, okay? No limit.”

“Okay, deal.”

You shake his hand, and the deal is done. Mission accomplished.

“Why do I feel like I just got tricked?” Satoru pouts.

You gently pat his cheek, smiling. “Remember that you love me, honey.”

You can’t help but think that if cupids were real, your cupid must have worked overtime cause damn, what tough work it was to make you fall in love with his insufferable ass. 

“Ah! You just thought I’m insufferable, didn’t you?” Satoru asks, squinting his eyes.

You plant a brief kiss on his lips. “I think about you that way every day, my love.”

“You are so in love with me,” he giggles, snuggling closer to you. “Baby, baby, I’m cold.” He circles his arms around your waist again, landing a cute kiss on your shoulder. You can tell he’s smiling like a child, hugging you like a child, and as much as you want to go back to sleep, you can never find the strength to push him away when he’s like this.

“Fine, we can cuddle. But keep your mouth shut. I’m going to sleep.”

“Okay~”

“I’m serious.”

He pretends to zip up his mouth.

“Okay, good. Stay like that.”

Satoru nods. He holds onto his promise. He keeps his mouth shut.

Can’t say the same about his other body parts though. 

Because your husband is now grinding his hips against your behind, not too much, not too hard, just enough to make you notice that yup, he’s hard. His hands slip underneath your nightgown, skimming over your thighs before they press flat against your stomach. He’s so warm—he’s always warm—and every touch he paints on your skin is both comforting and provoking. 

“Satoru,” you warn him. 

He makes humming noises in response, basically telling you, “I’m keeping my mouth shut, just like you asked.” He’s bratty that way.

You sigh. You decide to let him be. It will take more energy to push him away anyway. Besides, even if he’s insatiable when it comes to sex, Satoru will never force you to do anything you don’t want to. You just have to ignore him.

Which is not an easy feat, unfortunately, because before long, his hands find their way to your breasts, cupping each one fully with his palms. He makes another noise, which you easily translate to “Good morning, girls~” (You know this because he said that almost every other morning). Giddy, Satoru finds himself giggling again, squeezing them from behind but in a way that is so not sexy. It’s like a kid trying out his new squeeze toy in Toys-R-Us. 

You roll your eyes. “Really?”

“Mm-hmm.” He starts playing with your nipples this time. Again, in a totally not sexy way. He’s tweaking, pinching, poking your buds inside with his point fingers, and watching them pop back out again. He’s tittering near your ear and you should really find him annoying but you can’t help but giggle too. He’s so dumb for even finding this entertaining.

“You are unbelievable,” you say, turning your head around just enough to kiss him. You hope for dear God, you don’t smell like your usual morning breath, but seeing how he doesn’t smell like one and still tastes like the whipped cream he had eaten (off your body) three hours ago, you figure you’ll be okay.

You don’t plan to take this further than a playful kiss but when you feel your husband groan against your mouth, pleased by the way you close your lips around his so perfectly, you know you’re losing your battle, and you don’t care. Who cares if you only had three hours of sleep and eight hours of stressful work ahead of you? Satoru tastes so sweet on your tongue. He always does. And you’re addicted to him.

With a little push, you have him lying back on the bed. He has one hand resting on your nape, holding your head firmly as he kisses you deeper. “Satoru,” you sigh against his mouth, his tongue rubbing against yours before he moves down to pepper kisses down your neck. He stays mute, but only because you told him to before (though if you knew it would lead to this, you wouldn’t have said so). Your husband may have the habit of spouting out stupid jokes one after another in his wake, but he always says the right thing during sex. The things you want to hear. The things you love to hear.

You can feel him smiling against your ear, your body shivering at the sensation of his breath caressing your skin. You can’t help but expect him to whisper something, something that you know will make you curl your toes in excitement. Last night he had you begging to turn every filthy word he spoke into action. Today, he just takes your earlobe between his lips, his breathing steady but heavy. The sound of his lips parting… The little mmm when he sucks on the sensitive spot… You're losing your mind.

His touch no longer feels light on your skin, drawing out hushed moans from your lips when he kneads your breasts, his thumb gliding against your nipple from over your gown. A soft chuckle brushes your ear. He knows how much you want to hear his voice. It doesn’t feel right to you, feels like something’s missing. But he won’t do that. Not until you start pleading.

But two can play at this game.

You sit down on his lap, the strap of your nightgown sliding down your shoulder just enough to tease. The sight of the purple bruises he left on your cleavage the night before entices him. You’re so pretty. So pretty when you’re marked and bruised. 

With both hands on his chest, you nibble on your lower lip, rubbing your against his hardness. “I need you inside me.”

“Fuck,” he groans, losing his battle. He starts whining when he sees you giggling. “Baby, that’s not fair. You never said that to me before.” 

“Really?” You roll your hips, rubbing him at the right spot, the right pace. The way you move is obscene. The thin fabrics separating your body from his only add more excitement to your already burning skin. “And does Daddy like it?”

His face nearly explodes. “Oh my God, stop. You’re torturing me.” He sits up only to grab you by the waist before he throws you back to bed with one arm. 

You find yourself laughing when he blows against your stomach, treating you like a child. “Stop, that tickles!”

“I asked you to call me Daddy in the last three years we’ve been married and you always kicked me in the face, and now you’re saying it just like that?”

“What, did you want it to be special? Should I go make you a bath filled with roses, put Hatsune Miku on speakers—”

“Oh, that’s it, come here!”

You’re laughing until you can’t breathe, your leg pulled and your arm pinned behind your back. He tickles your sides, his smile playful and bright, filled with mirth. This joy you both have, you’ve never shared it with anyone else. And maybe he feels that too. Because when he flips you around, pressing your bodies together, Satoru’s gaze turns soft. He leans close, gathering your face in his hand. There’s no laughter, no giggle, no mischief in his eyes, only honesty. His voice sounds deep yet gentle when he speaks, “I love you.”

No matter how often he’s said it in the past, how much he’s said it yesterday, it always feels like it’s the first time you hear the words. And it’s rare for you to say it back to him, but he doesn’t mind. He understands that you often struggle to portray your feelings with words, too shy to say it under his overwhelming gaze, and if you ask him, it’s one of the reasons why he cherishes you so dearly. Because he knows whenever those words do come out of your mouth, you truly mean them.

Like now.

Cupping the back of his hand, you press your cheek further against his palm. “I love you more,” you whisper. “Every part of you.” And there’s so much more you wish you could say, but will your words ever be enough to describe them all? It wasn’t obvious to his eyes before as you were good at masking your emotions with sarcastic remarks and mean retorts, but reminiscing those old days you shared with him… It really made you realize just how much you’re in love with the man you’ve shared the last seven years with. You’ve grown so attached that even the thought of spending some days alone without him scares you to your bones. And with the way he’s gazing at you right now, ocean eyes filled with the same amount of passion and affection as they were on the day he confessed his feelings to you for the first time, it’s only right for you to be overwhelmed by your emotions.

Sometimes it scares me because I never thought I’d feel this way about someone.

Even the simplest thought of losing you, of not having you wake up beside me in the morning, is enough to haunt me for days.

Stay with me. Don’t ever leave me.

I love you.

Satoru.

“I just… I love you so much…” And you hate that it’s all you could say. 

But it’s enough. It’s more than enough. Because Satoru is blushing, his eyes turning round, his lips parted but no words can be found. He just looks at you, astonished by the vulnerability you display on your face. The honesty. The purity of each gesture. How beautiful you are…

“Satoru?”

He pulls you into his embrace, burying his face in the crook of your neck. Hugging you so tightly, he barely gives you a chance to breathe and yet, you only wish for him to hold you tighter. You can’t tell just how much your words paint vibrant colors to his world—and bold red to his cheeks. “Are you planning to give me a heart attack?” He murmurs near your ear, a hint of shiver in his voice. “What the hell was that?” 

You can’t help but chuckle. Embarrassed Satoru is the best kind of Satoru. “Sorry.”

“You kidding me? Say it again.” He returns the space between you, but only for an inch or two because that’s all he can bear. He strokes your face, his heart beating hard enough that you can almost feel it on your skin. “I think this is the cutest you’ve ever been.” 

“I’m maxed out for today, though,” you say, wincing. “You’re gonna have to wait another ten years before I say that again.”

“I’ll wait forever if that’s what it takes,” he smiles, gliding his thumb across your cheekbone before he kisses you. “My sweet, sweet wife. I’m so happy I kissed you that day. Sorry your dog died, though.”

You chortle. “Honestly, you couldn’t have picked some other time?”

“You looked super cute when you cried, okay? Sue me.”

“You’re so ridiculous.” But you press his lips against his anyway, both of you smiling into the kiss.

“Babe.”

“Hmm?”

“Can I have your tits back in my mouth?”

“Sure, why not.”

“Can I… also bring my carrot back to my bunny’s mouth?”

“Aaaaand we’re done.” With a little shove to his chest, you send him back to the bed. 

“Wha—” He sputters, mouth opening and closing like fish out of water. “Babe—”

“I’m gonna go make some coffee.”

“No, wait!” He shuffles quickly to his knees, holding onto your wrist. “Honey, I was kidding!”

“Moment’s gone, Toru.”

“But I’m still haaaard,” he cries, and whines, pleading at you with his pretty eyes.  “Baby, I’m sorry. I promise I’ll behave so come back to me? Please?”

You already have one foot off the bed, tossing him a look over your shoulder. “You have hands.” Tying up your hair in a messy bun, you step down, smirking. “Use them.”

“Babeeeeee~”

You lean in to kiss him on the nose, patting his cheek when you say, “Take your time.” 

As you walk away, you hear him mumble sadly behind you, “But your carrot…”

Yeah, your husband is insufferable.

And that’s why you love him.

***

Next Chapter

Shoutout to @justasketch and @princess-okkotsu for being my first readers and for not throwing up from the excessive amount of cringe in this fic. Love you, babes ❤️

[meikstv]

🎥 now playing - 2 Hands

🎬 and action!

this smau was inspired by the song 2 hands by tate mcrae

synopsis: after a messy break up you thought you’d never fall in love again. enters nagi, the lazy giant who just can’t seem to get enough of you…

back to MeiksVCR 🎥🎞️

pairing: nagi seishiro x blackfem!reader

status: ongoing (on hiatus)

tags/warnings: flawed character, he fell first but she fell harder, reader is in denial for a while, slowish burn, reader is a bimbo yall shit be flying over her head, lowercase intentional, terrible grammar but i’m trying my best lol, this came out more blended then i expected, slightly suggestive.

anything written will be marked with a 🎞️

taglist: open, comment below or send an ask :3

playlist

🎥 STARRING: princess tiana and her frogs | reo’s sugar babies

season one - you broke me first era

EPISODE ONE: congrats on the breakup

EPISODE TWO: hurting 🎞️

EPISODE THREE: unwanted guests

EPISODE FOUR: rescue mission 🎞️

EPISODE FIVE: fumble of the century

EPISODE SIX: she’s a little slow

EPISODE SEVEN: studio session

EPISODE EIGHT: album drop

EPISODE NINE: over it 🎞️

EPISODE TEN: post album drop

EPISODE ELEVEN: return of the ex

EPISODE TWELVE: i’m still over it 🎞️

EPISODE THIRTEEN: tour?

EPISODE FOURTEEN: london

EPISODE FIFTEEN: birmingham

EPISODE SIXTEEN: dublin

EPISODE SEVENTEEN: amsterdam

EPISODE EIGHTEEN: valentine’s day in paris 🎞️

EPISODE EIGHTEEN.TWO FIVE: before the date

EPISODE NINETEEN: barcelona

EPISODE TWENTY: manlia

EPISODE TWENTY ONE: osaka

EPISODE TWENTY TWO: tokyo

EPISODE WENTY THREE: rebrand

coming up on the next season - 2 hands era

EPISODE TWENTY FOUR: RIDIN

EPISODE TWENTY FIVE: Sports car

EPISODE TWENTY SIX: Sex Memories

EPISODE TWENTY SEVEN: Tell Em

EPISODE TWENTY EIGHT: Blue Lock vs. U20

EPISODE TWENTY NINE: Little Things

EPISODE THIRTY: 2 hands

new social media profiles: nagi | y/n

Cut! 🎬 that’s a wrap!

BTS 🎞️

@meikstv | all rights reserved, please do not repost, translate, or claim as your own | dividers by @thecutestgrotto & @sxmmerberries

[sweetchildcloud]

How Alastor would be as a boyfriend/lover

Pairing: Alastor x A!Reader

Tags:fluff,cute,maybe OOC?[out of character],kisses,pecks,snuggling.

P.S: this is my first time writing about Alastor so im sorry if its not good :/

A/N: this picture is how Alastor will look at his SO and nobody can change my mind

@muzansslxt @candy69gurl @kiwicopia

Alastor is a very devoted lover and would often do thoughtful and charming things for you like leaving flowers on your doorstep (even tough you both stay at Hazbin Hotel in the same room) or cooking elaborate and delicious meals for you.

He never really strayed from his polite, elegant demeanor or charmingly cocky smile, and seems to truly care for you a great deal. (everyvone at the hotel will always look at you with a stunned look because the radio demon actually fell in love with someone?)

You loved how sweet and kind he was to you and how charmingly adorable he was as well.

He would often shower you with gifts (of stuff you like) and affection like holding hands and quick pecks on the cheek.

You can always rely on him to lift up your spirits whenever you felt down.

You two had a very healthy and happy relationship and brought out the best in each other.

When you two got home [Hazbin Hotel] from dates, you would often watch anime together[the most gruesome ones the better] while snuggling and discussing the episodes.

You especially loved how he would let you hold his fluffy tail and play with it whenever you wanted to and you would always told him how fluffy it felt [obviously in the privacy of your own room,who wants to see the all mighty and scary radio demon...being cuddles by their SO with his tail? probably killing them on spot so that they will not tell anyone]

He would make you hot chocolate and bring blankets to cuddle with on cold days.

On holidays like Valentines day, he would get you elaborate boxes of chocolate covered strawberries, and take you on romantic walks in the forest of his room where the two of you would hold hands, talk about your dreams and hopes, and enjoy the beauty of nature together.

His ears would flatten whenever he was in a playful mood, and they certainly seemed very fluffy. They often brushed against your face whenever he leaned close, and the feeling of his soft ears against your cheeks always made you smile.

Alastor would often let you play with his fluffy ears and would sometimes rub you head affectionately adding a peck on the cheek in return. His ears were soft and adorable to pet, and you really enjoy stroking and touching them whenever he let you. [I LOVE WHEN HIS EARS FLICKERS LIKE UGHHH]

Whenever you two have a disagreement and you start arguing, he becomes very calm and stoic. He is not easily provoked and is able to keep his composure even when you are angry and arguing at him. He never raises his voice or shouts at you, and rarely even scolds you. Instead, he listens to you calmly, tries to see your point of view and eventually tries to find a solution that works for both of you. He is a patient and understanding partner who values harmony and communication.[since he's the radio demon and stuff and radio is communicating trough words]

He recognizes that arguing and fighting is natural in any relationship, but he also realizes that it is not the best way to resolve issues. Instead, he seeks to find common ground with you and to find a compromise that works for both of you. He is also quite good at apologizing when he made mistakes, and is willing to accept his share of the blame whenever the issue was on his end as well.

But in situations where things escalate and you start to get overwhelmed and emotional, he will immediatly stop and comforting you and try to calm you down in a gentle manner. He will be very understanding and comforting, stroking your hair and holding you tightly, whispering soothing and calming words into your ear and even offering to make you a cup of hot tea.

 Alastor is very protective of you, since he had developed a very deep and abiding love for you. He is quick to defend you from others and will do whatever it takes to protect you.

He is a very powerful demon and when he is very angry or feels that someone has hurt you, he becomes very vicious and ruthless.

He has a fierce temper when he fels that anyone threatens to harm the ones he cared about, you most of all. The thought of someone even attempting to harm you incensed him and filled him with a burning rage. This trait is one of the things that you loved about him as you feel secure and safe with him.

When Alastor is upset or angry, his smile never fades from his cheeks but it shifts into a psychotic grin that frightens many,but not you. His eyes become hollow and cold, his breathing becomes rapid and his grin seems even wider than before. He gives off an air of menace and it is clear he is about to go on the attack. In this state, He often seems unhinged and out of control, but it is clear he still remains calculating and calm underneath. This state of his is frightening to many other demons, who tend to avoid him when he is like this.

When you're sick, he does his best to take care of you. He will cook you hot soup, brew you tea, bring you fresh water bottles and even rub your back and wipe your forehead to keep you comfortable. He is very attentive and caring when you are feeling ill and he will do everything he can to help you recover quickly and smoothly.

He will also do his best to entertain you while you are in bed, showing you all his favorite movies or programs [on his old tv],radio talking, joking around to make you laugh and even reading all the best books to you. [he will end up falling asleep cradling you on your bed,the radio will play 30' music,as Charlie gasps soflty saying how cute the two fo you looked as Vaggie tries to drags her gf away to do not disturb you.]

i hope you liked this and if you want more tell me and if you have doubts or questions if in the era of Alastor there were TVs, yes there were TVs at that time as the first TV was created in 1927 and he was killed in 1933.

i think Alastor would love old tvs unitl 1970 or 1980 because the others will remind him of Vox XD.

[pharawee]

I usually don't do yearly recaps because my memory sucks December is one of the busiest months for me and I'm lucky if I get to gif at all but this year I thought I'd take a look at all of the gifsets I did in 2024 and see which shows, pairings and moments I liked the most.

✨FAV BLS OF 2024

1000 Years Old: 2024 was supposed to be the year of vampire BL (going by all the announcements and pilot trailers) but in the end only this one aired (edit: wait, I forgot about OMG! Vampire to protect myself 🥴) - and it was neither spicy nor particularly spooky. Instead, it was all heart and quirkiness and when it was over I cried for a week because of the bittersweet ending.

Playboyy: This show is truly a masterpiece, with layers of subtext and social commentary. Also, it's fun and camp and sexy and ridiculous. I'm so glad it's going to get a second season.

Caged Again: How come that a little show about a penguin and a panther is legit one of the best - if not THE BEST - Thai BL of the year?

Knock Knock, Boys: I came for Best and Seng and Pak but then Almond and Latte bewitched me body and soul. Kongthup now owns me.

Every You, Every Me: I don't know what I was expecting (well, okay, a whole lot of Mick & Top - which is exactly what I got) but it surely wasn't crying my eyes out for two episodes right in the middle of the show.

Spare Me Your Mercy: Long awaited and currently still airing - I actually love this show a lot because it reminds me of all the detective dramas (esp Endeavour and Grantchester) I used to binge. Morse but make it queer is actually all I ever wanted.

7 Days Before Valentine: This show's depth and artistry and stageplay-like character absolutely blew me away.

I Saw You in My Dream: WeTV absolutely blew it out of the water this year with their many diverse productions, and this unassuming and charming little show with a supernatural twist (love me one of those!) was no exception.

Monster Next Door: Big Thanakorn in his first main role with his first acting partner in an extremely fun and all around lovely Kongthup/WeTV production. And I just love how nuanced it was when they could have just stuck with the whole introvert/extrovert cliché.

✨FAV PAIRINGS OF 2024

Hope x Save (Jack & Joker): These two completely took me by surprise, especially because I had such an intense reaction to Pee Phiravich's character in La Pluie. I had originally set my eyes on PromMark and while I definitely ate up their crumbs, HopeSave just checked all of my boxes: morally grey antagonists (at least for a while there), doomed by the narrative (until they actually got their happy ending, yay!) and ride and die for each other.

Pete x Kenta (Pit Babe): I'll be a PeteKenta truther until the day I die (see all of the checkboxes above), and if Change2561 didn't subscribe to the branded pair model, they'd agree with me. As things are I'm actually kind of meh about Pit Babe 2. I bet KentaKim won't have knives at each other's throats!! (PeteWay is delicious though.)

Prom x Nont (Playboyy): Uhhh, that's a lot of the same checked boxes. So maybe I have a type. Thanks 2024 for making me realise. Also, I hope these two make each other worse in season 2 (before they get their HEA because ultimately I'm vanilla like that).

Latte x Almond (Knock Knock, Boys!): Oh God, these two. I was prepared to be ride or die for Thanwa and Peak but then LatteAlmond barged in with a pink sex toy and it was over for me. They just have so much heart and so much sincerity between them (and while their dynamics are different in Caged Again I'm really enjoying Nokia and Jaonine there too for pretty much the same reason + their incredible comedic timing).

X x Namping (Every Me, Every You): It's probably a good thing we got these two for two episodes only because we might not have survived a whole 8 or 10 or even 12 episodes of them. Plus, the anthology-like character of the series made a sad ending possible in the first place, and I really appreciate it - even if it almost destroyed me.

✨FAV MOMENTS OF 2024

Twins: For a moment there we had FrameRyan and it was beautiful.

The Sign: Chalothorn stole the whole show for me and then when he inexplicably vanished I kind of stopped watching. Whoops.

Deep Night: I have seen the throuple light thanks to SeijiPanKen.

The Rebound: Frank Thanatsaran's acting (but also that scene...) overshadowing pretty much everything else (and now he's with Star Hunter which... you know... ehnnnn 🥲)

To Be Continued: Fluke Pongsapat and Junior Khajbhunditt starring in a way underrated 8-episode netflix show with one of the most beautiful love scenes ever, and I've been wanting more of them ever since.

Two Worlds: Kongthup giveth and Kongthup taketh away (aka for one and a half episodes I had Phupha and Khram and now I will never know peace).

Century of Love: Offroad Kantapon as a sultry fox spirit.

Sunset x Vibes: When Star Hunter remembered Fong and JJ exist and then they stole the whole entire show (there really wasn't much to steal though...).

The Sign: Whatever was going on between Heng Asavarid and Nat Sakdatorn in this scene BUT I NEED MORE (pls Idolfactory I'm begging you release Heng from his solo actor prison).

Two Worlds: Kongthup choosing violence by giving Pak and Mon one of the spiciest love scenes of the year.

The Rebound: THESE TWO (boxes checked!! But also I need more Nammon in my life).

Kidnap: GMMTV's strategic placement of Papang in a suit.

The Hidden Moon: Whenever that tiny low-budget show got surprisingly deep and artsy (and also spicy).

My Stand-In: When I watched a whole show for one (1) character that wasn't really a character at all. Oh, the tragedy of it all (and yes, I'm still scared of Ming).

Pit Babe: When I made several posts about the Pit Babe novel but then I actually ended up loving the villains more than the main characters. I'm watching Pit Babe 2 for them and them only. Winner of my heart here I come!

Aaand that's it, my first ever yearly (Thai) BL recap - which actually ended up way longer than planned (guess my memory isn't as bad as I thought. Then again, I had my gifs to fall back on).

2024 was an amazingly diverse year for Thai QL (along with the wonderful news of marriage equality in Thailand finally becoming a reality) and looking back I now realise (not that I was ever seriously worried) that gmmtv's monopoly is actually way more of a blessing than a curse because not only did it cause WeTV to heavily invest in their own productions, it also leaves more than enough room for innovation and creativity via smaller and indie companies (along with the truly big players finally paying more attention - see: Spare Me Your Mercy). Innovation which in turn enriches gmmtv's portfolio as well (judging by their line-up for 2025 the years to come). In short: the Thai BL ecosystem is truly thriving.

And with that, may 2025 be even queerer than 2024 with tons of marriage proposals and actual marriages (PorschArm here we go!), and a favourite little (or in gmmtv's case not so little lmao) BL niche for everyone.

I hope you had as much fun with BL in 2024 as I had. I really appreciate everyone's commentary posts and meta and fanart and gifsets and tag games and reaction posts, even if I didn't spend as much time on my dashboard this year as I wanted to. I'm so glad tumblr BL fandom exists. ILU guys. Only the bestest and kindest things for you in 2025!🌈✨

[amethystarachnid]

"Manifesting a Stark wedding and mini Starks immediately."

THIS IS SO REAL, MANIFESTING THE SECOND PART 🙏🏻

THE STARK REALITY (SHOW) - part 2

⤷ ANTHONY “TONY” E. STARK

ᯓ★ Pairing: Anthony “Tony” E. Stark x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: fluff, romance

ᯓ★ Word count: 8.1k

ᯓ★ Summary: you and Tony are getting married, so it's time to hold his promise and start a new reality show...with lots of plot twists

ᯓ★ TW(s): nothing I think?

ᯓ★ Part 1

ᯓ★ Love is in the air - Valentine's Day special game

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Holiday Special

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

Two years.

Two years since The Stark Reality ended. Two years since Tony teased the world with talk of weddings and kids, leaving the internet in absolute chaos. Two years of you and Tony living your lives in relative peace—well, as much peace as you can get when dating Tony Stark.

And now?

Now, you’re about to break the internet again.

Because, without warning, without so much as a single leak, a brand-new reality show drops.

The Stark Wedding

The first episode airs unannounced on a Friday night, and the world loses its mind.

The intro alone is enough to send social media into a tailspin.

Tony stands in front of the camera in his usual smug, effortlessly charming way, arms crossed, that signature Stark smirk playing on his lips.

“Miss us?” he drawls, looking directly into the lens.

You’re sitting beside him, arms folded, shooting him an amused look. “Really? That’s how you’re opening this?”

“Absolutely.” He grins, reaching over to lace his fingers with yours. “It’s been two years. Thought we’d give you guys an update.”

You raise an eyebrow. “We?”

“Okay, I thought we’d give you guys an update.”

He turns back to the camera, smirk widening. “And what better way to do that than by showing you every little detail of how we’re planning the biggest, most extravagant, most ridiculous wedding of the century?”

You sigh. “I feel like I should clarify that it wasn’t my idea to film this.”

Tony squeezes your hand. “No, but you love me, so here we are.”

You shake your head, but there’s no hiding the smile on your face.

Tony looks back at the camera. “Welcome to The Stark Wedding—a reality show where I, a genius billionaire, somehow convince the love of my life to marry me on national television.”

Cue the opening credits.

And just like that, the internet explodes.

"THEY DID IT. THEY ACTUALLY DID IT. A REALITY SHOW ABOUT THEIR WEDDING. I CAN’T BREATHE."

"TONY STARK YOU ARE A DRAMATIC GENIUS AND I LOVE YOU FOR IT."

"The fact that this man teased it TWO YEARS AGO and actually followed through?? ICONIC."

"We went from The Stark Reality to The Stark Wedding. What’s next? The Stark Family with little mini Starks running around??"

The first episode is chaos—but it’s exactly what everyone wants.

It opens with you and Tony meeting with an over-the-top wedding planner, a woman who immediately realizes that organizing a Stark-level wedding is not for the faint of heart.

You, ever the voice of reason, suggest something relatively normal. A big wedding, sure, but not insane.

Tony?

Tony looks the planner dead in the eye and says, “How hard would it be to get fireworks shaped like our faces?”

You slap a hand over your face. “Tony—”

“What?” He gestures vaguely. “It’s our wedding. Go big or go home.”

The planner, to her credit, doesn’t even blink. “I can make it happen.”

And that’s how you realize you’re in way over your head.

The episode is a ride.

Tony suggests having Iron Man suits for all the groomsmen. You veto that immediately.

You pick elegant, tasteful floral arrangements. Tony tries to sneak in Stark Industries logos made of roses.

There’s a scene of you two cake tasting, where Tony very seriously insists that the cake should be at least five tiers high because, and you quote, “What’s the point of being a billionaire if you can’t have an unnecessarily large cake?”

The cameras catch every moment—the teasing, the bickering, the way Tony sneaks little kisses whenever he thinks no one is watching.

And the audience eats it up.

"THE WAY HE LOOKS AT HER. TWO YEARS AND HE’S STILL COMPLETELY WHIPPED."

"No because Tony is SO unserious about this wedding but also so in love with her I’m crying."

"’Go big or go home’—sir, you’re already Tony Stark. How much bigger can you GO??"

"The chemistry is even better than The Stark Reality days. This show is gonna ruin me."

And it’s only the first episode.

Tony? Tony is thriving.

You catch him scrolling through reactions on his phone that night, smirking at all the chaos he’s caused.

“People are obsessed with us,” he says, clearly pleased.

You roll your eyes. “You say that like you didn’t plan for this exact reaction.”

He shrugs, setting his phone down before pulling you into his lap. “Hey, can you blame them?” He kisses your shoulder. “We’re very interesting.”

You shake your head, but you can’t argue.

Because as much as you protested, as much as you acted like filming another reality show was too much—you’re secretly having the time of your life.

You get to plan your wedding your way. You get to share the excitement with the world. And most of all, you get to do it with Tony.

And honestly? That’s all that matters.

Planning a wedding with Tony Stark is a nightmare.

A fun, chaotic, over-the-top nightmare.

It’s not that he doesn’t care—if anything, he cares too much. But in the most Tony way possible. Meaning, every decision has to be extravagant, ridiculous, or, in his words, "something only a Stark wedding could pull off."

The cameras are there, of course, capturing every insane conversation, every time you have to rein him in, and every moment when you both completely forget that the whole world is watching.

Like when you're sitting in the living room, flipping through invitations, trying to pick a design.

Tony flops dramatically onto the couch beside you, peering over your shoulder. "Boring. Too boring. Way too boring—oh, that one's not bad, but what if we made them holographic?"

You blink. "Holographic invitations?"

"Yeah," he says, like it's obvious. "Imagine it—someone opens the invite, and BAM! A tiny projection of me and you personally inviting them to the wedding."

You stare at him. "Tony."

He grins. "Genius, right?"

"Absolutely not."

The internet gets a kick out of moments like these.

"Tony Stark is the most extra fiancé of all time, and I love that for him."

"A holographic wedding invite??? Let the man COOK."

"I need Y/N to drop her patience routine because the way she handles him is ICONIC."

Then there’s the venue selection.

You originally had a normal idea—something elegant, something grand but tasteful. But, of course, Tony being Tony, the list of locations he provides is absolutely ridiculous.

A private island.

The top of the Stark Tower.

A literal castle in Europe.

A Stark-designed floating wedding platform above the ocean.

You almost have a stroke reading the list.

"Tony," you say slowly, pinching the bridge of your nose. "Do you understand that normal people get married in normal places?"

Tony shrugs, completely unbothered. "Yeah, and we are not normal people."

"We are not, but the wedding should be!"

"Disagree," he says. "The wedding should be memorable. Stark-level memorable."

The internet sides with him.

"THE FLOATING PLATFORM THO. I NEED IT TO HAPPEN."

"Let’s be honest, a Stark wedding HAS to be insane. I respect it."

"If they don’t get married in a castle, I’m rioting."

Eventually, you settle on a stunning cliffside estate with breathtaking ocean views, and Tony begrudgingly agrees, as long as he gets at least one insane element.

(You don’t know what that element is yet, but you know it’s coming.)

Then there’s the issue of your dress.

It’s the one thing you’re keeping a complete secret.

Not just from the cameras, but from Tony.

And it drives him insane.

The first time he asks, he plays it cool.

“So,” he says one evening while you’re finalizing fittings. “You’re really not gonna let me see the dress?”

You smirk. “Nope.”

He tilts his head. “Not even a hint?”

“Nope.”

A pause. Then he leans in, voice dropping. “Not even if I—”

“No.” You press a finger against his lips before he can try whatever he was about to say. “Not happening, Stark.”

And that’s the start of his mission.

Because from then on, Tony tries everything.

One night, he casually brings you a glass of wine, massages your shoulders, and then very sweetly asks, “Sooo… about the dress?”

You laugh. “Nice try.”

Another time, he attempts to bribe you.

“I will personally upgrade your entire wardrobe—custom designed—if you just give me a tiny detail.”

“Nope.”

“What if I—”

“No.”

At one point, he actually tries to hack into the bridal shop’s files.

Thankfully, FRIDAY blocks him before he can succeed.

“Sir,” FRIDAY says dryly, “Miss Y/N has specifically ordered me not to let you access this information.”

Tony groans. “Traitor.”

The internet loses it at his antics.

"THE WAY HE TRIED TO HACK INTO THE BRIDAL SHOP IM SCREAMING."

"Tony Stark acting like a child because he can’t see a dress is my new favorite thing."

"The man can build a metal suit but can’t crack his fiancée’s wedding dress secrets. HILARIOUS."

His last-ditch effort happens one night when you’re curled up in bed, half-asleep.

Tony, ever the opportunist, pulls you close, tracing lazy circles on your back.

“You love me, right?” he murmurs.

You hum sleepily. “Mmhmm.”

He presses a kiss to your shoulder. “So you’d trust me with anything, right?”

“Of course.”

Another kiss, this time against your jaw. “Sooo… you could tell me about the dress.”

Even in your half-asleep state, you snort.

“Tony,” you mumble, “go to sleep.”

He groans dramatically. “Unbelievable.”

The cameras don’t catch that moment—but you tell the story later, and people eat it up.

"THE WAY HE TRIED TO TRICK HER WHEN SHE WAS HALF ASLEEP I CAN’T."

"Y/N: sleeps. Tony: This is my chance."

"Protect Tony Stark at all costs. The man is suffering."

Despite all the madness, the wedding is coming together.

There are moments—little ones, away from the chaos—where you and Tony completely forget about the cameras.

Like the time you're picking music for the first dance, and Tony, without warning, pulls you into his arms, swaying with you in the middle of the living room.

Or the time you're stressed about floral arrangements, and he just grabs you, dips you dramatically, and kisses you senseless until you're laughing.

Or the night before the big bachelor and bachelorette parties, when you're curled up together, and he murmurs against your hair, “You sure you wanna marry a pain in the ass like me?”

And you just smile, pressing closer. “Absolutely.”

Those moments? They belong to you.

The rest of the world may be watching, but at the end of the day, this is your love story.

And it’s perfect.

The world is watching.

Millions of people are tuned in, their eyes glued to screens, eagerly anticipating the moment Tony Stark finally—finally—says I do. The wedding is being streamed live, the most anticipated event of the decade, and yet, in this moment, Tony doesn’t care about any of them.

Because as soon as the music starts and you step into view, all he can see is you.

He swears he forgets how to breathe.

You look stunning. Absolutely, breathtakingly perfect. Your dress is everything he imagined and yet so much more, and it physically hurts that he had to wait this long to see it. The way the fabric flows, the way it hugs you in all the right places, the way you walk toward him like there’s no one else in the world—he’s done for.

And then you smile at him.

And that is what almost breaks him.

He has to blink rapidly, has to fight the lump in his throat, has to force himself to keep it together because Tony Stark does not cry at weddings—except apparently, when it’s his own.

Pepper, standing nearby as his best woman, leans in just enough to whisper, “Don’t you dare start crying, Stark.”

“Shut up,” he murmurs back, voice thick, eyes locked on you. “I can cry if I want to.”

The internet immediately notices.

—

"TONY STARK IS ABOUT TO CRY I REPEAT THIS MAN IS ABOUT TO CRY"

"THE WAY HE LOOKS AT HER IM IN PAIN"

"IF TONY CRIES IM CRYING TOO"

—

When you finally reach him, your hands slide into his without hesitation, and he clings to you like you’re the only thing keeping him standing. His thumb brushes over your knuckles, and you squeeze his fingers in return, eyes shining with so much love it makes his chest ache.

“Hi,” you whisper.

He exhales a shaky breath, grinning. “Hey, future Mrs. Stark.”

The ceremony is perfect. The vows are heartfelt, the laughter genuine, and when Tony finally gets to kiss you—when he gets to hold your face in his hands and seal this moment—it’s electric. The world may be watching, but in this instant, it’s just you and him.

You’re married.

And that means the real party is just beginning.

—

The reception is pure chaos, exactly as expected from a Stark event.

The music is loud, the drinks are flowing, and Tony is in his element, working the room, grinning like he just won the lottery. Because he did. He got you.

At some point, he finds himself on the dance floor, his hands firmly on your waist as you sway together, pressed close, your wedding rings glinting under the lights.

“Did I mention how good you look today?” he murmurs against your ear.

You smirk. “Once or twice.”

“Not nearly enough,” he says, twirling you before pulling you back in. “You look so good, it’s actually unfair.”

You roll your eyes, but the blush creeping up your neck gives you away. “You’re not so bad yourself, Stark.”

He grins. “Damn right I’m not.”

The cameras catch every moment—the stolen kisses, the teasing whispers, the way Tony can’t keep his hands off you. Fans are losing their minds.

—

"THIS WEDDING IS EVERYTHING I WANTED AND MORE"

"TONY LOOKS SO IN LOVE IM GONNA CRY"

"THE DANCING SCENE OH MY GODDDD"

—

At some point, Rhodey and Happy pull Tony away for a toast, and that’s when he realizes something’s up.

Because you’re suspiciously missing.

He glances around, searching the room. “Where’s my wife?”

Rhodey smirks. “She’s got a surprise for you.”

Tony raises an eyebrow. “Oh? What kind of surprise? Because if it’s strippers, I—”

“I can assure you it’s not strippers,” Pepper interjects, amused.

Tony sighs dramatically. “Damn. I mean, I’d only accept if the stripper was Y/N, and only if it was private, so I’m the only one who gets to see—”

“You’re insufferable,” Rhodey groans.

A few moments later, the lights dim slightly, and then—

You appear.

Standing on the small stage, microphone in hand, smiling right at him.

His heart stops.

You give him a soft look before speaking into the mic. “So, I know Tony loves being the one with all the surprises, but tonight, I get to have one for him.”

He watches, utterly entranced, as you take a deep breath.

“There’s something I’ve been keeping to myself for a little while,” you continue, “and I figured… what better time to share it than right now?”

Tony leans forward slightly, eyes locked on you. “Sweetheart, you’re killing me.”

You laugh, then, still holding the mic, you place a hand over your stomach.

And that’s when it clicks.

It takes him a second—his brain scrambling to catch up—but then it hits him all at once.

You’re pregnant.

He staggers.

Literally stumbles backward, eyes wide, mouth slightly open, hands in his hair because holy shit.

You giggle at his reaction, nodding just enough to confirm it.

The entire room erupts. Cheers, gasps, screams. Somewhere, Pepper is definitely wiping away a tear.

Tony?

Tony is frozen.

Then, all at once, he moves. Practically bolts toward the stage, barely making it up the steps before he’s grabbing you, kissing you so fiercely it takes your breath away.

When he finally pulls back, his hands frame your face, his eyes searching yours. “You’re serious?”

You nod, eyes shining. “Dead serious.”

And that’s it. That’s all it takes for Tony Stark, the man who once swore he’d never be tied down, to break completely.

He presses his forehead against yours, exhaling shakily. “Holy shit.”

You laugh softly. “Good surprise?”

He huffs out a breathless chuckle, his hands sliding down to rest over your stomach. “Best surprise ever.”

The cameras catch everything.

And the internet?

The internet shatters.

—

"Y/N IS PREGNANT OH MY GOD"

"TONY STARK IS GOING TO BE A DAD I AM NOT OKAY"

"THE WAY HE REACTED IM SOBBING"

"I THOUGHT THIS WEDDING COULDN’T GET ANY BETTER AND THEN SHE DROPPED A PLOT TWIST"

"DOES THIS MEAN THE STARK FAMILY REALITY SHOW IS NEXT???"

—

Tony does not let go of you for the rest of the night. His hand stays firmly over your stomach, his lips constantly finding yours, his eyes soft in a way the cameras never caught before.

He’s never been happier.

He has you. He has this future—your future.

And for once, he doesn’t care that the whole world is watching.

Because this?

This is the best thing that’s ever happened to him.

Pregnancy with Tony Stark is anything but normal.

For starters, he is convinced that you should not lift a single finger for the next nine months. The moment the news is out, he goes into full-on Stark mode, meaning he spares no expense in making sure you’re comfortable.

And by no expense, that means:

A custom-built pregnancy suite in the tower, complete with the most advanced medical technology and luxury furniture.

FRIDAY monitoring everything—your vitals, your stress levels, even your hydration.

A dedicated craving station in the kitchen stocked with anything you might want.

The cameras capture everything, of course.

Like the first time you wake up at three in the morning with a craving for something weird.

You shift in bed, sighing heavily. Tony stirs beside you, groggy. “What’s wrong?”

You hesitate, then mumble, “I really want pickles. And peanut butter.”

Tony blinks. Then, without a word, he gets up, throws on a hoodie, and leaves the room.

You frown. “Tony?”

“I’ll be back,” he calls over his shoulder.

The footage from that night becomes legendary.

Because the next thing the cameras catch is Tony, half-asleep, standing in the kitchen in pajama pants and a hoodie, making a sandwich with way too much peanut butter and an absurd amount of pickles.

FRIDAY, always watching, chimes in. “Sir, are you sure this is a good idea?”

“FRIDAY, she wants this,” Tony grumbles, spreading the peanut butter aggressively. “If my wife wants peanut butter pickles at three AM, she gets peanut butter pickles at three AM.”

The internet loves it.

—

"TONY MAKING A PICKLE PB SANDWICH WHILE HALF ASLEEP IS KILLING ME"

"HE DIDN’T EVEN QUESTION IT HE JUST WENT"

"IMAGINE HAVING TONY STARK AS YOUR HUSBAND LIKE SHE IS LIVING THE DREAM"

—

It doesn’t stop there.

Anytime you so much as mention a craving, Tony is on it.

“Babe,” you say one afternoon, scrolling through your phone, “you know what sounds really good right now?”

Tony looks up from his laptop. “What?”

You hum. “Those tiny little powdered donuts.”

He closes his laptop immediately. “I’ll be back in ten.”

You laugh. “Tony, you don’t have to—”

But he’s already gone.

The next scene the cameras catch is Tony showing up exactly ten minutes later with six different brands of tiny powdered donuts.

You stare. “Tony.”

He shrugs. “Wasn’t sure which ones you meant.”

The footage goes viral.

—

"HE BOUGHT SIX DIFFERENT KINDS I CANT"

"TONY STARK SPOILING HIS PREGNANT WIFE IS MY ROMAN EMPIRE"

"THE WAY HE JUST GOES EVERY TIME SHE WANTS SOMETHING"

—

The worst craving situation happens one evening when you desperately want something so specific, you almost cry.

“I just—” You huff, rubbing your belly. “I need spicy curly fries, but only from that place, and I need a chocolate shake, but it has to be thick, not too watery—”

Tony doesn’t even hesitate.

“I’m on it.”

And he leaves.

The cameras catch him driving across the city, personally picking up the fries and shake, taste-testing them in the car to make sure they meet your standards, and then rushing back like a man on a mission.

By the time he gets back, you’re curled up on the couch, watching TV, and when he hands you the food, you actually get teary-eyed.

“You love me,” you murmur.

Tony grins, sitting beside you. “Damn right I do.”

And then you sob, because hormones, and he just pulls you close, kissing your temple, whispering, “You’re so cute when you cry over fries.”

The internet melts.

—

"IF MY MAN DOESN’T LOVE ME LIKE THIS I DON’T WANT HIM"

"TONY STARK TASTE-TESTING FOOD BEFORE GIVING IT TO HER STOPPPP"

"THIS IS THE BEST REALITY SHOW IN THE WORLD"

—

Of course, cravings aren’t the only thing the cameras catch.

There’s also the way Tony talks to your belly.

At first, he does it when he thinks no one is listening.

Like one night, when he’s helping you into bed, and you’re already half-asleep. The cameras are subtle, just enough to catch Tony kneeling beside you, pressing his lips to your stomach.

“Hey, little Stark,” he murmurs against your skin. “You’re giving your mom a hard time with these cravings, huh?”

He pauses, then chuckles. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep bringing her whatever she wants. But you gotta promise me something, kiddo. You gotta promise me you’ll be good to her, okay? Because she’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

You don’t respond, too lost in sleep, but the cameras do.

And when that footage airs, the internet shatters.

—

"TONY WHISPERING TO HER BELLY I CAN’T"

"HE LOVES HER SO MUCH IM GONNA SCREAM"

"IF THIS MAN ISN’T THE BEST HUSBAND IN THE WORLD THEN WHO IS"

—

Eventually, he stops hiding it.

Like the time you’re lounging on the couch, and he just casually flops down, rests his head on your belly, and starts talking.

“So, kid, listen, we gotta talk about your mom’s sleep schedule, because I think you’re keeping her up on purpose, and I will hold that against you when you’re born.”

You flick his ear, amused. “Stop bullying our child.”

“I’m just saying,” Tony grins, rubbing your stomach, “we gotta negotiate bedtime rules.”

You roll your eyes. “You are bedtime rules.”

The cameras love it.

—

"TONY STARK IS A MENACE TO HIS OWN UNBORN CHILD"

"THE WAY HE JUST LAYS ON HER BELLY LIKE IT’S NOTHING"

"THIS IS THE PUREST THING I’VE EVER SEEN"

—

Despite all the antics, one thing is clear—Tony is all in.

He’s there for every check-up, every doctor’s visit, every late-night craving. When you start getting tired more often, he carries you to bed. When your feet start hurting, he massages them without hesitation.

The cameras capture all of it.

And the world?

The world is obsessed.

Tony Stark, former playboy, genius billionaire, Iron Man, is completely and utterly devoted to you and your growing family.

And the best part?

He wouldn’t have it any other way.

Pregnancy is a rollercoaster, and Tony is strapped in for the ride whether he’s ready or not.

As the months pass, your belly grows, swelling more and more until it becomes impossible to ignore. Not that Tony ever ignores it—if anything, he’s obsessed. He constantly finds excuses to touch your stomach, his palm resting there whenever you're close enough, his thumb absently rubbing slow circles against your skin.

And then there are the comments.

“Look at you,” he murmurs one evening, watching as you struggle to get comfortable on the couch. “My wife is smuggling a whole-ass basketball.”

You glare at him. “If I wasn’t carrying your child, I’d throw something at you.”

He smirks. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

You huff and shift again, groaning. Your body feels heavy, everything aches, and Tony—ever the problem solver—just has to fix it.

“Here.” He pulls you into his lap, adjusting you until you’re comfortable. “Better?”

You sigh, letting yourself relax against him. “Yeah.”

The cameras, discreetly placed around the house, capture everything.

The world watches as Tony rubs your back, presses kisses to your temple, and whispers soft reassurances whenever you feel like your body isn’t your own anymore.

—

"TONY SPOILING HIS PREGNANT WIFE AGAIN, I LOVE TO SEE IT"

"HE LOOKS SO OBSESSED WITH HER BUMP, IT’S SO CUTE"

"IF MY MAN DOESN’T HOLD ME LIKE THIS WHEN I’M PREGNANT I DON’T WANT HIM"

—

But if Tony thinks the belly is the biggest challenge, he’s in for a rude awakening.

Because the mood swings?

They hit hard.

One minute, you’re perfectly fine, the next, you’re crying over the fact that a character in a movie didn’t get a happy ending.

Tony, sitting beside you, blinks in confusion. “Babe, you do know it’s just a movie, right?”

You sniffle. “But he loved her so much.”

He stares for a second, then immediately pulls you into his arms. “Alright, c’mere, emotional wreck.”

You sob into his chest while he strokes your hair, sending a helpless look at the nearest camera.

—

"TONY STARING AT THE CAMERA LIKE HE’S ON THE OFFICE HELP"

"MY MAN IS GOING THROUGH IT"

"HE’S SO PATIENT THO, LIKE HE JUST LETS HER CRY AND HOLDS HER"

—

Then there’s the anger.

Like the time Tony absentmindedly ate the last slice of cake from the fridge.

You stand there, staring at the empty plate in his hands, your eye twitching. “You ate it?”

Tony swallows, suddenly realizing his mistake. “I—I didn’t know you wanted it.”

You inhale sharply. “That was my cake, Tony.”

“…I can buy another one?”

Big mistake.

Because the next thing the cameras catch is you chucking a pillow at his head, followed by you storming off while mumbling about divorce.

Tony just sits there, rubbing his face, sighing. “This kid is gonna be the death of me.”

—

"TONY STARK RUNNING FOR HIS LIFE OVER CAKE I CAN’T"

"WHY IS HE JUST SITTING THERE HE NEEDS TO RUN"

"THE WAY HE JUST ACCEPTS HIS FATE"

—

Despite the chaos, Tony never complains. If anything, he loves it. Loves that you trust him enough to show all your emotions, loves being the one to comfort you, loves knowing that he’s going to be a dad soon.

And then comes the gender reveal.

Tony being Tony, there’s no way he’s doing something basic.

So, naturally, he builds a custom fireworks system on the roof of the tower, programmed to explode in either blue or pink.

The cameras capture everything—the way Tony stands beside you, arm wrapped around your waist, the way you squeeze his hand, the anticipation in the air.

Then—boom.

The sky lights up in pink.

A girl.

You gasp, turning to Tony, but his reaction stuns you.

Because for a second, he’s completely frozen. Just staring at the sky, eyes wide, mouth slightly open.

Then, all at once, he laughs—loud, disbelieving, softer than anyone’s ever heard him. He turns to you, hands cupping your face, kissing you so fiercely it takes your breath away.

“We’re having a girl,” he whispers against your lips, awestruck.

And then, the reality sinks in.

A girl.

A little Stark.

Suddenly, Tony is thinking about everything—about the world she’ll grow up in, about all the dangers, about all the idiots who will try to hurt her.

And just like that, his entire brain shifts.

“We need to start designing a security system for her nursery,” he blurts, already calculating in his head. “No, for the entire tower. Maybe a shield system. JARVIS, remind me to upgrade all tower protocols—”

You groan, pressing a hand to his chest. “Tony. Breathe.”

He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. “It’s just—she’s gonna be perfect and I need to make sure she’s safe.”

You cup his cheek, smiling. “She’s going to have the best dad in the world.”

Tony melts, pressing his forehead to yours.

“Damn right she is.”

The internet explodes.

—

"TONY’S FACE WHEN HE SEES THE PINK LIGHTS IM GONNA CRY"

"THE WAY HE JUST FREEZES LIKE HE CAN’T BELIEVE IT"

"HE’S ALREADY PLANNING HER SECURITY SYSTEM SOMEONE STOP HIM"

"Y/N CALLING HIM THE BEST DAD IM SOBBING"

—

From that moment on, Tony doubles his efforts. He talks to your belly even more, spoils you even more, and starts designing little things for the baby—tiny arc reactor-themed onesies, custom-made stuffed animals, even a baby-sized Iron Man helmet (which you immediately veto).

The cameras catch everything, but at this point, Tony doesn’t care.

Because soon, his little girl is going to be here.

And he’ll do everything to make sure she has the best life possible.

The cameras aren’t in your bedroom.

That was one of the first things you and Tony agreed on when the reality show started. No matter how open your life became, some things had to stay just for you.

Tonight, you’re curled up in bed, Tony’s arm draped protectively over your belly, his fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns against your skin. Layla kicks, and Tony chuckles softly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“She’s active tonight,” he murmurs.

You hum, shifting slightly. “She always is when you talk to her.”

He grins. “What can I say? She loves her dad.”

Your heart clenches, and for a moment, all you can do is watch him—how his face softens whenever he talks about Layla, how his hand never strays too far from your belly, how his love for your daughter is already so obvious.

And that’s when the thought really sinks in.

The whole world is watching you.

They have been for years now. Every step of your relationship, every milestone, every intimate moment—recorded, edited, aired for millions of people to see.

But Layla?

Layla isn’t a reality show. She isn’t entertainment. She isn’t a spectacle for people to comment on.

She’s your daughter.

You take a deep breath. “Tony?”

He makes a sleepy sound in response, his fingers stilling against your skin. “Mm?”

You hesitate, then sigh. “I think we should stop the show.”

Tony immediately perks up, blinking down at you. “Wait, what?”

You shift, turning on your side so you can meet his eyes. “Not forever,” you clarify. “Just… until Layla is old enough to make that choice for herself.”

He’s quiet, considering. You can see his mind working, his lips pressing together as he thinks.

And then—

“You’re right.”

You blink. “Wait, really?”

Tony exhales, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah. I mean, I love the attention, obviously,” he jokes, but then his expression softens. “But this isn’t just about us anymore. It’s about her.”

He shifts, propping himself up on his elbow, his other hand still resting on your belly. “I don’t want Layla growing up with a camera in her face twenty-four seven,” he continues. “I don’t want strangers on the internet dissecting her every move, turning her into some… public figure before she even knows who she is.”

You nod, relieved. “Exactly.”

Tony sighs, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “I still want to document everything, though.”

You smile. “Obviously.”

“No, but I mean us,” he says. “Like… personal videos. Just for her. So she can look back and see how much we loved her before she was even born.”

Your heart melts. “That’s a great idea.”

His lips quirk up. “Of course it is.”

You roll your eyes but pull him down for a kiss anyway.

—

The next morning, you and Tony sit down in the living room, facing the cameras for one last announcement.

“Well, folks,” Tony starts, draping an arm around your shoulders, “we’ve got some bittersweet news.”

You glance at him, amused. “Bittersweet?”

“Hey, I like to think our audience loves us,” he grins. “They’re gonna be devastated.”

You shake your head but look back at the camera. “As you all know, we’re expecting our first child soon.”

“Little Miss Layla Stark,” Tony adds proudly.

You smile. “And because of that, we’ve decided to put the show on pause.”

Tony nods. “Yeah, we’re gonna take a break from the whole ‘constant surveillance’ thing. Give our kid some privacy, let her be a kid before throwing her into the media circus.”

You squeeze his hand. “This isn’t goodbye forever. Maybe one day, when Layla’s old enough, we’ll come back.”

Tony smirks. “I mean, obviously we’ll have a big return special. Maybe Layla’s first TV appearance.”

You laugh. “Only if she wants to.”

Tony sighs dramatically. “Fine.”

Then, he looks straight into the camera, grinning. “But don’t think you’ve seen the last of us. We’ll be back. Maybe for a wedding anniversary special. Maybe a family special.”

You nudge him playfully. “Maybe not.”

Tony winks. “Guess you’ll have to wait and see.”

The camera fades to black.

—

The internet erupts.

—

"THE SHOW IS ENDING????"

"NOOOO I NEED MY WEEKLY DOSE OF TONY & Y/N"

"Okay but respect, they’re doing what’s best for their daughter"

"Not me crying like they’re my real family"

"Imagine the RETURN SPECIAL THO, we’re gonna be starving for years"

—

With the cameras finally off, your home feels different. Quieter. More yours.

Tony still records little videos—private ones, just for you and Layla. Some are just the two of you talking to the camera, telling her about your day. Others are candid, like Tony whispering to your belly, or the moment Layla’s nursery is finished, or late-night cravings runs.

But this time?

It’s not for the world.

It’s just for her.

It happens in the middle of the night.

One moment, you’re peacefully sleeping—well, as peaceful as you can be at nearly nine months pregnant. The next, a sharp, undeniable pain rips through your lower abdomen, jolting you awake with a startled gasp.

At first, you think it’s just another Braxton Hicks contraction. You’ve had plenty of those lately, and they always come at the most inconvenient times. But then the pain doesn’t stop—it intensifies, making your entire body tense.

Then, the feeling of something wet.

Oh, shit.

Your water just broke.

For a second, you just sit there, blinking in the dim light of your bedroom, trying to process what’s happening. And then, it hits you—

This is it.

Layla is coming.

Your hand immediately reaches out, shaking Tony’s shoulder. “Tony.”

He groans, still half-asleep, mumbling something incoherent as he tries to turn over.

You shake him harder. “Tony, wake up!”

His eyes flutter open, unfocused. “Huh? What—?”

Another contraction slams through you, and you whimper, gripping your stomach. “Tony!”

That gets his attention.

His eyes snap open, immediately locking onto your face. He takes in your tense posture, the way you’re clutching your belly, the panic in your expression.

And then—

“Oh, shit.”

He launches out of bed so fast he nearly falls, scrambling for his phone. His hands are shaking so much he drops it, cursing as he bends down to pick it up.

“Uh—okay, okay, uh—hospital! Right! Gotta—gotta get you to the hospital!” He’s moving frantically, throwing on a hoodie, grabbing random things, his brain clearly short-circuiting.

You grip the edge of the bed, breathing through another contraction. “Tony, breathe.”

He spins around, pointing at you wildly. “Me?! Me breathe?! You’re telling me to breathe?! You’re the one in labor!”

Despite the pain, you let out a weak, breathy laugh. “I need you to be calm right now.”

Tony takes a deep, sharp breath. Nods. “Right. Right, okay. Calm. I can do calm.”

Then, another contraction hits, and you whimper in pain.

And just like that, Tony completely loses it again.

“Nope, screw calm, we’re going, we’re leaving NOW!”

—

The drive to the hospital is a mess.

Tony is gripping the steering wheel like his life depends on it, going at least twenty miles over the speed limit.

Meanwhile, you’re in the passenger seat, gripping his hand so tightly he winces every time you squeeze.

“Almost there,” he keeps saying, over and over. “Just hang in there, babe, I got you, we’re almost there.”

The second you arrive, Tony throws the car into park and bolts around to your side, practically scooping you up into his arms before rushing inside.

“SOMEONE HELP!” he shouts at the front desk, frantic. “MY WIFE IS HAVING A BABY—LIKE, RIGHT NOW!”

The nurses immediately jump into action, a wheelchair appearing within seconds. Tony barely has time to process before they’re already wheeling you away, guiding him to change into scrubs, and suddenly—

It’s happening.

—

Tony thought he knew what to expect.

He’s read the books. He’s listened to the doctors. He’s watched the videos.

But nothing—absolutely nothing—could have prepared him for the moment he sees you in that hospital bed, gripping his hand like it’s your lifeline, sweat dripping down your forehead as you struggle to bring your daughter into the world.

He’s never felt so useless in his life.

He hates seeing you in pain. Hates hearing your cries, hates the way you’re struggling, hates that he can’t do anything except whisper encouragements and stroke your hair.

“You’re doing amazing,” he murmurs, pressing his forehead against yours. “Just a little more, baby, you got this.”

You’re exhausted. Every part of you hurts, and you feel like you can’t do this anymore—but then, with one last, desperate push—

The sound of a baby’s cry fills the room.

And just like that—

Layla Stark is here.

Tony freezes.

The doctor lifts her up—tiny, tiny, covered in evidence of birth, her face scrunched up as she screams.

And Tony?

Tony completely falls apart.

Because holy shit.

She’s his.

His daughter.

His heart shatters in the best way possible, his eyes instantly welling up with tears. He doesn’t even care that people are watching—he just laughs, breathless and overwhelmed, completely gone for this tiny, screaming little person.

You’re crying too—exhausted, but so relieved, so happy.

And then—Layla is in your arms.

She’s so small. Tiny little fingers, tiny little toes, her face still red and scrunched as she wails.

And Tony?

Tony is a goner.

He reverently reaches out, tracing a finger over her impossibly small hand—

And then—

Layla Stark wraps her tiny, chubby fingers around his finger.

Tony gasps. His breath catches. His heart stops.

His lips part, eyes wide as he stares at his daughter, completely wrecked.

And then—

“Oh, I’m so screwed.”

You laugh weakly, still breathless. “She’s already got you wrapped around her little finger, huh?”

Tony sniffs, barely holding back tears. “Immediately.”

Layla lets out another tiny wail, and Tony—fully, utterly in love—leans down to press a soft, shaky kiss to her forehead.

“Hey, baby girl,” he whispers. His voice cracks slightly, and he lets out a wet chuckle. “It’s me. It’s your dad.”

Layla squirms, still making little noises, but Tony doesn’t care.

Because she’s here.

She’s real.

And she’s his.

Bringing Layla home is both the most exciting and terrifying moment of your life.

The house feels different the second you step inside with her in your arms—like it’s not just yours and Tony’s anymore. It belongs to her now, too.

Tony hovers the entire time, shifting from overprotective to completely obsessed in the span of seconds. The moment you settle onto the couch, he’s already double-checking the baby monitor, the temperature of the room, the entire security system.

“Tony,” you sigh, exhausted but amused.

He glances up. “What?”

“She’s been home for five minutes.”

“Exactly,” he says, setting his tablet down and moving toward you. “We’ve had her for five minutes, and I’m already considering putting JARVIS on full lockdown mode.”

You roll your eyes. “Just come sit with us.”

Tony doesn’t hesitate. He settles beside you, immediately peering down at Layla, who’s bundled up in soft pink blankets, her tiny chest rising and falling with steady breaths.

“She’s so small,” he murmurs.

You smile. “She won’t be small for long.”

Tony huffs, resting his head against yours. “I don’t like that.”

You laugh. “Well, it’s happening anyway.”

Layla stirs slightly in your arms, her face scrunching up before she lets out a tiny, sleepy sigh.

And just like that—Tony melts all over again.

—

The first few months with a newborn are chaos.

Layla runs your entire lives.

She wakes up at all hours, demanding attention, food, or just a simple snuggle. Some nights, you’re both up, groggy and exhausted as you take turns rocking her back to sleep.

But Tony?

Tony doesn’t mind it.

Sure, he complains—but the second Layla’s in his arms, those complaints turn into soft murmurs and whispered reassurances, his voice gentle as he cradles her against his chest.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” he mumbles one night, pacing the nursery at three a.m.. “Otherwise, this whole ‘waking up at random hours’ thing would not be working out.”

Layla lets out a tiny squeak, nuzzling into his chest.

And Tony—completely, utterly wrapped around her tiny little finger—just sighs, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“Yeah, yeah,” he whispers. “I love you too, kid.”

—

Her first smile happens when she’s about two months old.

Tony swears it’s at him first.

You disagree.

But the second her little face lights up at the sight of her dad, you know there’s no chance of winning this argument.

“See?” Tony says proudly, bouncing her slightly in his arms. “She loves me.”

You roll your eyes. “She loves both of us.”

Layla coos, her tiny hands reaching out to grab Tony’s goatee.

He winces but laughs anyway. “Yeah, yeah, kid, I know you’re obsessed with me.”

—

Her first word comes when she’s nearly a year old.

And of course—because Tony Stark is the most dramatic man on the planet—it has to be something that boosts his ego.

“Dada.”

Tony freezes.

You swear he stops breathing for a second.

Layla looks up at him with wide eyes, a gummy grin on her face, and says it again.

“Dada!”

Tony gasps.

You groan.

“Oh, great,” you mutter. “Like his ego wasn’t big enough already.”

Tony spins toward you, clutching Layla to his chest like she’s just given him the greatest gift in the world. “Did you hear that?!”

You cross your arms. “Yeah, yeah.”

Tony grins so wide it looks like his face might split in half. “SHE SAID DADA.”

Layla claps.

And just like that—Tony is gone for her all over again.

—

Her first steps happen when she’s barely a year and a half old.

She’s been wobbling for weeks, standing on unsteady little feet, holding onto furniture, so close to walking.

And then one day—

Tony is sitting on the floor across from her, arms outstretched, encouraging her with a bright, excited grin.

“C’mon, baby girl,” he coaxes. “You got this.”

Layla wobbles.

Then—

One step.

Then another.

Then—

She launches into Tony’s arms with a delighted squeal.

And Tony?

He immediately scoops her up, spinning her around with a triumphant whoop.

“THAT’S MY GIRL!”

You laugh, shaking your head. “You’re gonna hype her up too much.”

Tony blows a raspberry against Layla’s cheek, making her giggle. “Too much? Impossible.”

—

Layla grows up so fast.

And Tony?

Tony is there for every second of it.

From teaching her how to build tiny, kid-safe machines in his lab, to letting her “help” with his Iron Man suit (which really just means she sticks stickers on it), to indulging every single one of her whims—he’s there.

He adores her.

And she adores him right back.

—

By the time Layla turns six, the house is full of even more life, even more laughter.

And—

You’re pregnant again.

Tony finds out when Layla hands him a handmade card one morning, grinning up at him as she watches him open it.

Inside—

A drawing.

A little stick-figure family.

Tony. You. Layla.

And a tiny fourth figure, drawn with little hearts around it.

Tony stares.

And then—

His head snaps up, his eyes wide as he stares at you.

You just smile.

And Tony?

Tony almost faints.

—

The decision to reopen the show comes naturally.

Layla is older now, old enough to understand what the cameras mean.

And with another baby on the way…

Well.

Why not document it?

So one night, Tony makes the big announcement.

He sits in front of the camera, Layla perched in his lap, you beside him, your belly just barely showing.

“Well, well, well,” he grins. “Bet you all missed us.”

Layla giggles.

Tony winks at the camera. “That’s right, folks. The Stark Reality is back.”

And just like that—

The internet explodes.

The first episode of The Stark Reality: Family Edition premieres on a Friday night, and within minutes, the internet is in shambles.

It starts innocently enough—a sleek title sequence featuring clips of Tony in the lab, you organizing things in the house, and then—

Layla.

The world sees her for the very first time.

A six-year-old hurricane with wild curls, too much energy, and her father’s chaotic tendencies.

And from the moment she appears on screen, people are hooked.

—

The episode kicks off with Tony standing in front of the camera, looking smug.

"Alright, people. You've seen me save the world. You’ve seen me run a company. But you have never seen me do something this terrifying."

A beat.

Then—

"Parenting."

Cue a smash cut to Layla running through the house screaming, a roll of toilet paper streaming behind her like a cape.

Tony chases after her, yelling, "LAYLA, NO! NOT THE STARK TOILET PAPER! THAT'S EXPENSIVE!"

The audience is hooked immediately.

—

One of the highlights of the episode is a segment where Tony tries to teach Layla how to build something in the lab.

It goes about as well as expected.

"Alright, kid," Tony says, crouching next to her. "This is a simple circuit. We just have to connect this wire to—"

Layla, bored already, pokes the machine. "Can I make it explode?"

Tony pauses. "I—okay, yes, technically, but—"

Cue Layla pressing random buttons.

Cue Tony screeching.

Cue an immediate power outage.

JARVIS’s voice echoes through the darkness. “Sir, I must once again request that you supervise your daughter more closely in the lab.”

Tony sighs. “Yeah, yeah.”

—

Another fan-favorite moment is breakfast time in the Stark household.

The clip opens with you making coffee, looking half-asleep, while Tony and Layla sit at the table.

Layla swings her legs under the chair, grinning at her dad. “Can I have ice cream for breakfast?”

Tony doesn’t hesitate. “Absolutely.”

You, without even looking up, say, “No.”

Layla frowns. “But Daddy said—”

Tony clears his throat and looks away. “I never said that.”

A dramatic zoom-in on Layla’s betrayed expression follows.

Cue the internet losing its mind.

—

And of course—because Layla Stark is a menace—there’s a segment of pure chaos.

The camera catches her sneaking into the living room while Tony is distracted. She grins at the camera, one finger over her lips in a shushing motion.

Then—

She grabs the TV remote.

Tony, from the other room: “LAYLA, DON’T YOU DARE—”

The TV blasts to full volume, playing Baby Shark.

Tony screams.

Layla cackles.

JARVIS: “Sir, would you like me to intervene?”

Tony, defeated: “No, let me suffer.”

—

By the time the episode ends, the internet has completely lost its mind.

Twitter explodes within minutes:

NOT TONY STARK GETTING OUTSMARTED BY A SIX-YEAR-OLD. 💀💀💀

Layla Stark world domination WHEN?

I’ve never seen a man so powerful be so weak for someone. Tony said “no” to the Avengers but said yes to Layla asking for a puppy.

Layla Stark is already richer and funnier than me and she’s SIX.

“Let me suffer” - Tony Stark, a broken man.

—

People are obsessed.

Layla goes viral immediately. Clips of her chaotic moments rack up millions of views within hours.

Some fans even make edits of her, complete with dramatic music and captions like "Layla Stark: Agent of Chaos".

Tony, of course, eats up the attention.

“She’s a star,” he tells you smugly, scrolling through Twitter.

You groan, rubbing your temples. “She’s six.”

Layla, from across the room: “I’m famous?”

Tony grins. “Oh yeah, kid. You’re a sensation.”

And Layla, because she’s her father’s daughter, just smirks and says, “Nice.”

—

The first episode is a massive success.

But one thing is clear—

Layla Stark is the real star of the show.

The next few episodes of The Stark Reality: Family Edition only solidify one undeniable fact—Layla Stark is a scene-stealer.

Every episode, every clip, every chaotic six-year-old moment only makes the internet love her more.

And somehow, amidst all the hilarity, the heartwarming family moments make people even more obsessed.

—

The second episode opens with Tony attempting to make breakfast again—because the internet loved the last disaster.

He stands at the kitchen counter, sleeves rolled up, looking far too confident as he flips a pancake. “See? I got this.”

Layla, sitting on the counter and kicking her legs, watches intently.

You sit at the table, already sipping coffee, waiting for whatever chaos is about to unfold.

Tony flips another pancake. It lands perfectly.

Layla gasps.

The camera zooms in on her starstruck expression. “Daddy, you’re a genius.”

Tony grins, puffing his chest out. “I know.”

And then—because the universe loves to humble him—he tries to flip a third pancake.

It flies straight into his face.

Layla screams with laughter.

You almost spit out your coffee.

The internet loses its mind.

—

NOT TONY STARK GETTING TAKEN OUT BY A PANCAKE.

Layla’s little gasp like she’s watching her hero and then watching him FAIL. 🤣

Every episode, I lose more and more respect for Tony Stark as a competent adult.

Layla’s laugh is literally the best sound in the world. Protect this kid at all costs.

—

Another moment that has the internet screaming is Layla’s… possessiveness.

Specifically, when it comes to her parents.

The first time it happens, the cameras catch Tony wrapping his arms around you from behind, pressing a kiss to your cheek as you laugh.

Cue—

Layla glaring.

She marches over, shoves herself between you two, and plants her hands on her hips.

“Hey!”

Tony blinks. “Uh… hey?”

Layla scowls. “That’s my mommy!”

Tony gasps dramatically, clutching his chest. “Excuse me?!”

“You heard me.” Layla crosses her arms, looking way too much like her father. “She’s mine.”

You try so hard not to laugh.

Tony, ever the drama queen, drops to his knees. “Are you telling me… I can’t hug my wife?”

Layla, looking dead serious, nods. “Yes.”

Tony fake cries. “Betrayed by my own daughter.”

And then—Layla suddenly frowns, like she just realized something.

She whips around to you, eyes narrowing. “But he’s my daddy.”

You blink. “Uh… yes?”

She gasps. “So you can’t hug him either!”

Tony chokes. “Wait, wait, wait—”

Layla throws her arms out dramatically, officially declaring, “NO ONE gets hugs!”

The internet dies.

—

LAYLA SAID EQUALITY ONLY. If she can’t have them both, then no one gets them. 😭😭😭

Tony is so dramatic for fake crying on the floor like this isn’t his literal child.

Layla really said “THAT’S MY MOMMY” like Tony wasn’t married to her. 💀💀💀

Tony’s face when he realized Layla wasn’t only jealous for Y/N but also for him took me out. 🤣

—

But of course, despite her jealousy, Layla is still the sweetest.

Especially when it comes to the baby.

She’s obsessed.

Mostly because she sees Tony constantly talking to your belly and decides she needs to do the exact same thing.

The first time the cameras catch it, Tony is kneeling in front of you, hands on your belly, grinning as he murmurs, “Hey, kiddo. This is your super cool dad speaking.”

Layla, sitting on the couch, watches very closely.

Then—she scrambles down, marches over, and nudges Tony out of the way.

“Move, Daddy.”

Tony blinks. “What—hey!”

Layla presses her hands to your belly, eyes narrowing in concentration.

Then—

She whispers: “Hey. It’s me, your big sister.”

Tony melts.

You bite your lip to hold back a laugh. “Sweetheart, you don’t have to whisper.”

Layla ignores you.

She leans in closer.

“I don’t know if you can hear me,” she whispers conspiratorially. “But when you come out, I’ll protect you.”

Tony gasps.

Layla nods firmly. “I won’t let Daddy steal you away.”

Tony clutches his chest. “WHAT?!”

Layla turns to him, very serious. “I know your game, Daddy.”

Tony sputters. “My game?!”

Layla narrows her eyes. “You tried to steal Mommy from me. You’re not stealing this one.”

Cue you absolutely dying of laughter.

Cue Tony looking offended.

Cue the internet breaking over how hilarious Layla is.

—

“I won’t let Daddy steal you away” LAYLA I AM SCREAMING.

Layla declared WAR on Tony over a baby who isn’t even born yet. 😭😭😭

The way Layla whispered “I’ll protect you” like she’s on a secret mission. 😭💀

Tony is losing more and more family members every episode. First Y/N, now the baby. By Season 2, he’s gonna be exiled.

—

The new season is already a massive success.

Layla has the world wrapped around her tiny finger—just like she has her father.

And with each new episode, one thing becomes even more obvious—

The Starks are hilarious.

And the world cannot get enough.

[goldenlikedayl1ght]

do i wanna know? | connor rk800

a/n: oh hi!! i am like 99% sure no one is going to gaf about this fic besides my two irl friends who i'll send this to. the moral of this story is: don't watch the big bang theory while high because you'll watch a scene and get inspired to write a fic based on it. season 7 episode 15 if anyone's curious. enjoy! warnings: touch starved reader and asexual/autistic coded connor, connor's kind of a dick and doesn't understand social cues or dating AT ALL, some light angst, kissing, a lot of awkward conversation between reader and connor, not canon compliant AT ALL reader is always dealing with bullshit BRO GET UP, gavin reed is the worst! also some cursing, but overall very sweet and corny word count: 3.2k summary: you spend your first valentine's day with connor. pairing: connor rk800 x gn!reader now playing: do i wanna know? - the artic monkeys (covered by hozier) "do i wanna know?/if this feeling flows both ways?/sad to see you go/was sort of hoping that you'd stay/baby, we both know/that the nights were mainly made for saying things that you can't say tomorrow day."

You have always hated Valentine’s Day.

You’ve had a couple of alright Valentine’s Day, but for many years, February Fourteenth meant minor discomfort at best and heartbreak at worse.

Until you started dating Connor.

You met Connor at work. You worked as the sketch artist employed by the police station. So, you’d run into him every so often.

As his software instability increased, your affection for him did as well.

By the time Valentine’s Day rolls around, you’ve been dating for six or seven months. You push him to do things he never imagined doing, and often, you spend your time together either trying new things (Ice skating, unsuccessfully. Pottery, successfully.) or you’re watching movies or tv shows Connor has had recommended to him. It’s nice.  

You had agreed to take things slow. Connor was very new to this whole relationship thing. The whole being human thing, too.

More often than not, Connor isn’t comfortable with physical touch, finding himself hesitant to hold your hand, and not to mention the fact that he never says anything nice to you without it being weird—

(“You have excellent bone structure.”

“Oh. Thank you, Connor.”

“I bet you have a very distinct skeleton.”

“…Thank you. I think.”)

So, by Valentine’s Day, you haven’t even kissed him. Your friends think you’re crazy. Dating an android is bad enough—An android who doesn’t even kiss you is insane!

There’s been quick pecks, maybe three or four times since you started to date, only ever on Connor’s jaw, when you were sure he wasn’t paying attention, and once, he kissed your head when you fell asleep at your desk. But you’ve never actually kiss him—

You know, a kiss that lasts more than a few seconds, a kiss that isn’t so awkward, a kiss where you feel your lips against his—

A kiss that you feel like isn’t just an obligation to Connor, something he barely tolerates.

So, Valentine’s Day should be fun.

When you first asked him about Valentine’s Day, he seemed to be agreeable to your desire for a romantic evening. And maybe ‘agreeable’ isn’t how you would’ve liked to describe your boyfriend’s attitude towards Valentine’s Day.. But beggars can’t be choosers.

“So, we’ll do dinner that day, then?”

“Sure,” Connor agrees, and he’s barely looking up from the case file he’s reading over. Hank raises an eyebrow as he watches the interaction from his desk. “What did you have in mind?”

“Have you ever tried sushi?” You ask, and your face breaks out into a grin when he shakes his head. “Perfect. There’s this really nice place I’ve been meaning to try. We’ll go there.”

Finally, Connor looks up from his work at you.

“That sounds nice. I look forward to it.” And then he smiles.

Your heart melts because you know this is the closest your boyfriend will get to conveying actual excitement at this point.

“Great. It’s a date.”  Resisting the urge to kiss him goodbye, You smile back. “Okay, great. Have a nice rest of your day, Connor.” You say, standing from your position leaning on his desk, a hand landing on his shoulder and giving a soft squeeze as you pass.

“Have a nice day,” he says, watching as you leave. He goes back to work for a minute, before glancing at Hank. “Hank?"

“Yeah, Connor?” Hank asks, taking an opportunity to sip his coffee.

“Valentine’s Day is important, right?”

Hank hesitates, contemplating how much help he should give Connor, and, by extension, you.

“To people who have been married for forty years and have built a life together? Usually not. To you and your seven-month-old relationship? Yeah, I’d say it’s important.” He watches as Connor processes this information.

“Huh.” Is all he responds with, “Interesting.”

And then he goes back to work.

Hank just silently prays you haven’t gotten your hopes up too high.

-

Valentine’s Day rolls around faster than Connor would’ve anticipated, and it happens to fall on the day that Connor and Hank make a major arrest in a recent murder case they had been handling. Hank gives you some of the credit, since they never would’ve found him if you hadn’t done such a good job sketching the suspect.

But an arrest means paperwork. Lots of paperwork. Connor’s week had already been stressful, between this case, dealing with emotions he’s not familiar with, and this case was just.. heavy. So he feels as if he can barely focus on the report in front of him.

Hank heads home around 5:30, watching the clock.

“Connor, don’t you have your date soon?” He asks as he pulls on his jacket.

“I don’t have to be at the restaurant until 7:00, Lieutenant, I have plenty of time.” He assures, “I’m sure I can get this done quickly. That way I can give Valentine’s Day my undivided attention.”

“That’s..” he hesitates. “Actually, kind of reasonable. I’ll see you at home, Connor.” He concedes.

Connor wishes him a good night, before turning his full attention to the report he’s working on. As six o’clock begins to roll around, he’s made progress, just not as much as he would’ve liked. That’s when Gavin Reed strolls over to his desk. Connor notices they’re the two last people here.

“You’re still here, Bolts?”

Connor is not amused.

“Yes, Detective, I am.”

“No plans with Damaged Goods for Valentine’s Day?”

Connor finally looks up at him.

Bolts & Damaged Goods.

Reed’s impressive nicknames for the two of you. He isn’t sure why he calls you that, but he has a feeling it would be intrusive to ask.

“Actually, detective, I—”

“Yeah, that’s nice,” He drops a thick folder on Connor’s desk, “Listen, I have a hot date tonight. Do me a solid and help me out with some paperwork so I can get out of here?” He asks.

His LED light flickers yellow.

“Aren’t you supposed to do the paperwork yourself?”

“C’mon, bolts,” He huffs, “Just help a guy out. You’re faster at it than I am, anyways. I’d owe you one.” He promises, and Connor can’t tell if he’s lying. He can still be in time for dinner and get this work done..

“Fine.” Connor resigns with a sigh, “I—”

“That’s great, you’re helping me out a lot,” From the smirk on Gavin’s face, Connor realizes he’s made some sort of mistake. “See you, bolts, Happy Valentine’s Day!” He says as he grabs his jacket and then walks right out of the office.

Connor’s attention is turned back to the paperwork at hand.

At 7:15, he gets a call from you.

Connor only got a phone recently, since both you and Hank agreed that the two of you needed to be able to reach him if need be. Mostly, his phone is barren. Hank is saved in his phone as ‘Lieutenant Hank Anderson’, and your number is saved under your full name too. He knows in your phone, he’s ‘connor’ with a simple blue heart emoticon.

Guilt eats at him as he answers the phone.

“Hello?” He answers.

“Connor? Where are you, we were supposed to meet at the restaurant fifteen minutes ago for our reservation.” He can hear the frown in your voice.

“I got caught up doing paperwork.” He answers honestly, “Detective Reed needed help with some reports and he.. sort of left before I had the chance to say no.”

Silence.

He knows you don’t particularly care for Gavin Reed.

“How long do you think you’ll be?”

“I’m not sure,” he says, “Maybe half an hour?”

You can hear the lie despite the distance between the two of you.

“Connor, It’s Valentine’s Day.”

“Correct.”

You realize he doesn’t understand why you’ve brought it up.

“Okay, you know what? You finish working and I’ll… figure something out for us to do instead.” You offer.

“Okay,” He says, his eyes already wandering back down to his work. “Is there.. anything else?”

“No, Connor,” Your voice holds a bitter edge he doesn’t pick up on, “I’ll let you go.”

“Okay. Goodbye.”

“Bye.”

When you hang up, you glance around the restaurant. You observe happy couples of all types, sipping wine and enjoying delicious food, large smiles on their faces, fingers laced together.

You try to remember that Connor is a deviant, someone who is trying to navigate the emotions you came to terms with in your adolescence. Of course he doesn’t understand the importance of Valentine’s Day, he’s never celebrated it before. These two facts do not sooth the frustration you feel inside.

You inhale deeply as a plan begins to form in your brain. Fuck Gavin Reed. You can still have a wonderful Valentine’s Day with your boyfriend, it’ll just take a bit of.. extra flexibility.

At some point during his paperwork, Connor drapes his suit jacket over his chair and rolls the sleeves of his button up to his elbows, his stress only growing. At around eight, he needs to grab a witness report from another room.

When he gets back, he stops in the doorway to absorb the new additions to the room.

Candles are lit, sitting on his desk, not touching the organized paperwork he had been chipping away at. Three different sushi rolls are laid out, along with two wine glasses. The picture is completed by you, sitting at the other end of the desk from where he usually does, a nervous smile on your face, a bottle of wine in your hands. You look nice.

You look.. beautiful.

Connor’s LED lights up blue.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” You finally break the silence. “I figured if you couldn’t come to dinner, I could bring dinner to you.”

Dinner’s more for you than anything else. Connor always takes a few bites of whatever meal you share, just to try, but he doesn’t need to eat or drink to sustain himself. Although, he can’t deny that, while unnecessary to him, the dishes you pick out are always delicious.

He moves from his place in the doorway to sit down across from you.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” he says gently, unable to take his eyes off you. He’s not sure why. “I can’t believe you came here and did this..”

You just smile.

“I still wanted to see my boyfriend during Valentine’s Day, even if you have to work.” You say, imagining that he’ll only be busy for maybe another twenty or thirty minutes.

“That’s very nice of you.” He watches as you pour wine into each glass, “You’re sure you don’t mind if I work?” He asks.

You shake your head, digging into the bag you had brought with you and pulling out your sketchbook.

“I’ll just draw until you’re done.” You promise. He had seen your sketchbook several times. You had a large one you use for work, but when you were on break, he had seen this smaller one you carried around. He’d never peeked, not wanting to invade your privacy.

But that didn’t stop his curiosity.

“Okay.” He nods, “This’ll be nice.”

You spend the next five minutes showing Connor how to properly use chopsticks, and then, time starts to tick by as you watch him do work, occasionally doodling in your sketchbook as you eat in silence.

Twenty minutes go by.

Then thirty.

Then forty.

At nine, you finally decide enough is enough. Connor doesn’t even seem bothered by the fact that you just close your sketchbook, and sit there, arms crossed.

“Connor?” You finally say at ten past nine.

“Hm?”

He doesn’t look up.

“Are you almost done?”

You see him pause.

“Soon.”

Another pause.

“Connor?”

The way he grips the pen in his hand tighter is not lost on you.

“What?” His voice is strained.

“It’s almost nine thirty, maybe you should just leave it to be done on Monday.”

Finally, he looks up at you.

“I told you, I’m almost done, don’t you get that?” he asks, and you can hear the frustration in his voice, “What’s the matter with you?

His question snaps something in you.

“What’s the matter with me?” You ask, “It’s Valentine’s Day! We’re supposed to have a romantic dinner, enjoy each other’s company and spend it growing closer, like every other couple does!”

“Every other couple?” His LED light flickers yellow. “You want us to be just like ‘every other couple’?” Connor isn't even sure he knows how to be like this couple, let alone every other one!

You decide now is as good as time as any to voice your frustration. Valentine’s Day is already ruined, why not just dig the hole?

You stand, beginning to throw out the empty sushi containers and tuck away your sketchbook. Connor watches you.

“That’s not what I meant,” You start, “But Connor, we’ve been dating for seven months! God forbid I feel like I deserve some romance!” You huff.

Silence.

Heavy silence.

Connor is processing this, but you can tell anger is bubbling up inside of him.

You round the corner of his desk as he stands up too.

“Where are you going?” he asks.

You sigh.

“I’m leaving.”

“How come?” He asks, and you can tell he’s being rhetorical, that the stress from the week has become too much on him. “It’s Valentine’s Day,”

“Connor, Don’t—”

“No,” He starts, only standing about two feet away from you now. “I can be romantic, If you want Romance, let’s do romance.” He begins to search his memories for romantic scenes in movies and television, looking for this 'romance' you crave so badly. He glances to the wine on his desk, “Wine’s romantic,” He starts, and you roll your eyes as he picks up his glass and takes a sip. You watch as his face twists, the taste of wine not one he loves just yet. You can tell by the way his LED flickers yellow, and then he puts the glass down.

“Stop it—”

“We can gaze into one another’s eyes,” Connor bends down a bit to make eye contact with you. He’s got a good couple of inches on you, so he has no other choice. You roll your eyes and Connor shrugs, “You blinked, I win.” He reports.

You’ve had enough of this.

“Connor!”

“Alright, what’s next,” He takes a second to think, and then it hits him. “Oh, kissing’s romantic!” And before you realize what’s happening, Connor is bending over again, and his lips are against yours.

You freeze.

You don’t know what to do. On the one hand, you feel like you’ve done something wrong by making him so upset, that maybe he didn’t actually want to kiss you, that you should pull away. On the other hand, you’re sure that if you do pull away, you’ll never feel the sensation of his lips against yours again.

So, you wait for Connor to make the first move.

You’re sure he’ll pull away.

But this sensation is new to Connor. The warmth that’s started by the heat that comes from your lips spreads through him. An unfamiliar urge overtakes him. He has no name for it, but he doesn’t break the kiss as he takes a few steps towards you, his body relaxing into the kiss. He stands tall, but your head tilts up to keep kissing him. That unfamiliar urge tells him to get as close to you as possible. To chase this warmth.

His hand even moves to rest on your waist, and your hand rests on his bicep.

Why hadn’t he done this ages ago?

He tilts his head a bit into the kiss, unsure of how to advance but not wanting the moment to end. You, on the other hand, need to breathe, and he knows that. He slowly pulls away his eyes locked onto you.

Your attention is caught by his LED light, which lights up a soft pink.

This is romantic.

Neither of you say anything, just looking at each other, both too afraid to shatter the moment that has swept you off your feet.

Finally, you decide on,

“That was nice.”

Connor nods.

“It was..”

Silence.

Delicate silence, this time.

“May I walk you home?” He asks.

“What about your reports?”

Connor doesn’t hesitate to answer.

“They can wait until Monday.”

A smile tugs at your lips.

“Alright. Let me just get my jacket.”

Connor ignores the disappointment he feels as you pull away, already missing the warmth that came from such proximity to you. He just grabs his own jacket and slips it on. He doesn’t even bother cleaning up his stacks of paper, he just waits by the doorway as you blow out the candles and tuck the bottle of wine into your bag.

He can’t stop looking at you.

When you get to the doorway, you smile, your flushed cheeks revealing your happiness.

“Ready?” You ask.

Connor’s hand finds yours, locking his fingers against yours. Your heart thumps out of your chest.

“Ready.” He responds. The two of you head out of the police station, a warm silence filling the air. As he walks you back home, a small one bedroom, one floor house you rent from a woman who now lives in Florida, snow begins to fall around you.

Not heavy, thick, annoying snow. Just flurries that stick to Connor’s hair and make you shiver. Connor, who is now calculating the most appropriate way to assess that unfamiliar urge he felt makes no attempt to stop you from leaning against him as you walk.

You pass other couples who make their way home from their own Valentine’s Day plans, but instead of the jealous, bitter feeling you usually felt towards these couples on the holiday in the past, all you can focus on is Connor.

You squeeze his hand when you step onto your porch. The two of you stand under your porch light, snow falling around you. Your free hand comes up and wipes some snow from his hair.

“Tonight was wonderful.” You say honestly.

Connor feels awful for his behavior, but he’ll tackle that later.

“It was.” He agrees with a smile. His eyes flicker down to your lips, and you watch as his LED flickers that light pink again. He doesn’t ask, he just leans down and kisses you again, and he feels your hands coming up to rest on his jaw, your thumb rubbing gently against his cheek as you kiss him back.

He knows he’ll be chasing the warmth even more now. More and more each time he kisses you, and he will chase it until he dies.

He pulls away from kissing you, and his face is just an inch or two away from yours.

“Happy Valentine’s Day.” He says gently.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Connor.” You smile. He hesitates, but eventually he pulls away and you unlock your door. You stand in your doorway, just looking at him.

“Goodnight.” He finally says, his LED still pink. He turns and makes his way down the steps of your porch. When he steps onto the concrete, back in the snow, he glances back and takes another look at you.

You’ll catch frostbite at this rate, just staring at each other. So, you take the plunge and slip inside your door, closing it behind you.

Best Valentine’s Day Ever.

[orphicdreamers-wp]

Something In The Orange — Luke Hughes

Summary: In which while cleaning out his bedroom at the lake house, Luke convinces himself that your relationship isn’t over.

Content Warning; Angst with a happy ending, Luke kinda being a dick in flashbacks, mentions of a breakup, sad luke & reader, flashbacks in pink, Quinn & Jack plotting.

Pairing; Luke Hughes & Reader

Coming back to the lake house had been hard for Luke. Especially coming back without you by his side. You two had been together since freshman year of high school. The first summer that Quinn and Jack had the lake house was the first time you went with Luke. You two spent that summer in bliss, which led to you practically living there with them during the summers. Quinn had set ground rules that you were the only girl allowed to spend the night at the lake house.

But you and Luke had broken up in February, on Valentine’s Day as your luck would have it. You had been stressed with your clinical exam for your pharmacy tech program and had expected that night to be a time to relax. You and Luke had never done anything extreme for Valentine’s Day. You usually ordered take out and watched a cheesy romance movie. You entered your shared apartment and began to remove your shoes and socks and made your way to the bathroom and began to peel your scrubs off and tossed them on the floor.

You let the hot water rake over your body and wash the stress off of your shoulders. You stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around your body as you made your way into the bedroom. You dried off and pulled one of Luke’s UMich hoodies over your head, slipped into a pair of sweatpants and fuzzy socks before climbing into the bed and opening your laptop and turned on the most recent episode of Gilmore Girls as you reached on the beside table for your glasses. You had nearly fallen asleep when the living room door slammed.

You jolted upwards as your boyfriend entered the bedroom. He was dressed in a freshly pressed suit with his curls framing his face perfectly, “Hi baby, you look nice.” Luke scoffed as he undid his tie, “I looked nice an hour ago when our reservations were. Why are you home? You were supposed to meet me there, I left you a voicemail.” You frowned as you reached for your phone, checking it and finding no voicemails or texts from him, “I don’t have any message from you Luke, I didn’t know.” Luke scoffed, “Bullshit. You could have sent me a simple text saying you weren’t feeling dinner.”

You rolled your eyes, “I wouldn’t have said that, I didn’t get your message. Don’t turn me into some evil person because your upset!” Luke ran a hand through his hair, “I’m not doing this with you. I can’t, you’ve been somewhere else all year since school started. I can’t be with someone who doesn’t prioritize me.” You felt your throat tighten, “So what? Your breaking up with me because of a miscommunication? That’s what I get from you after 5 and a half years? Seriously Luke?” Luke shook his head, “I just can’t be another one of your things Y/N. I can’t.” You sniffled as you stood up and reached for a duffel bag in the closet and began cramming clothes into the bag along with your school stuff. You shook your head as you walked into the living room and put your shoes on. You walked out of the apartment without another word

Luke sighed as he entered his bedroom at the lake house. He hadn’t been back since the previous summer, so he knew your touch would be lingering over him. He was proven correct as he entered the room. On the dresser beside the door he was met with a small star shaped ceramic dish with a few rings and a necklace inside. A travel size bottle of perfume sat beside it and a soft pink lip liner nearby. As he furthered into the room he was met with more of your stuff. A swimsuit hung on the desk chair in his room. A Polaroid photo of you and Luke at some carnival the summer earlier was taped to the wall. Luke found a small box and began to put your items in the box.

You sighed as you discharged a needle into the biohazard box. You and your friend, Beth had volunteered to run the health clinic at UMich during the summer. You needed the cash and you had no summer plans since your breakup. The past 3 and a half months had been lonely for you. You found yourself wanting to call Luke nearly every day. Whether you were drunk at a bar and thought of something funny, or you had a good day at work and wanted to tell him, or you were rewatching Gilmore Girls and Luke and Lorelai had their first kiss and it made you think of him. But you held your pride.

You furrowed an eyebrow as your phone vibrated, you felt a sense of panic consume you when you saw the caller was Quinn. You excused yourself from the area you sat at and pressed the phone to your ear, “Quinn, what’s up?” Normally Quinn would have felt bad about lying to you, but he was tired of his baby brother moping around the house. He bit his lip, “It’s Luke, he’s hurt. Can you come?” You felt the blood rush from your face, “Yeah, I’m on my way. I’ll meet you at the house.” You turned to Beth, “I gotta go, bye. I’ll text you later.” You grabbed your bag and got in your card and drove to the lake house.

You slammed the car door and hurried inside, using your key to unlock the door. The house was eerily quiet, “Quinn? Jack?” Your heart was beating into your throat and ears when you saw him. Luke emerged from his bedroom shirtless rubbing his face in his hands, “Y/N? What are you doing here?” You felt like you couldn’t breathe, “Quinn called me. He said you were hurt.” You and Luke let out simultaneous sighs. Luke nodded, “I’m fine. You shouldn’t have come.” You shook your head in agreement, “Yep. I’ll let myself out. Oh here.” You peeled your key to the lake house off the key ring and handed it to him, “I don’t need it anymore.”

Luke hummed as he held up a finger, “I actually have something for you too.” He returned to his room for a brief second and returned carrying a box, “Figured you’d want this back.” You nodded as you blinked harshly keeping tears at bay, “Thanks Lu. I should get going, don’t wanna leave Beth at the health center alone for too long.” You walked out of the house and got into your car and made your way down the street.

You got to the end of the street when your phone rang with a call from Quinn. You sighed as you set it to speaker phone, “So any other lies I should be expecting dumbass?” Jack scoffed lowly, “Stop the car Y/N.” You looked into your rear view mirror, “You two are seriously following me now?” Quinn spoke, “Pull the car over now.” You pulled onto the side of the road and got out, “What could you boneheads want from me? If the plan was for him to stomp all over my heart then goal achieved.”

Quinn scoffed, “He isn’t over you Y/N, I swear I heard him talking to Ethan or Rutger about you last night.” Jack nodded, “Yeah then he made me and Z get trashed with him and he ended up crying about you.” You shook your head, “This isn’t fair to me. Not when I’m finally picking the pieces of my life up. Especially not after he insinuated that I chose everything over him. I can’t do that again.”

Jack shook his head, “He’s changed and he didn’t mean it. Just go back and talk to him. Tell him all that you just told us.” You shook your head as tears spilled down your cheeks, “What if he doesn’t want me?” Jack pulled you into a brotherly embrace, “Then he’s an idiot. But I know he isn’t. Go.” You wiped your face as you got back into your car and returned to the lake house. Quinn and Jack watched from the street as you stood on the porch.

You pounded on the door and felt a small breath of air as Luke opened the door. You felt your voice waver, “I am mad as hell at you. You are the most infuriating person I have ever met. I have never met someone so annoyingly perfect. You Luke Hughes, I have never ever loved someone as much as I love you. I don’t care about any of that stuff anymore. I just want to be with you.” Luke’s eyes softened, “You are the most infuriatingly stubborn person I’ve ever met. I’ve known from the first day I met you that you were the most special person in the world. I don’t want to be anywhere with anyone without you.”

You pulled him into a soft passionate kiss, your hands threading through his hair. A soft groan left Luke’s lips and hit yours. You pulled away as you breathed heavily. Luke looked down at you with lidded eyes fluttering, “I knew you’d come back to me.” You kissed him, “Shut up and kiss me. We have a lot of time to make up for.” Luke grinned as he pulled you in the door, “Thank god for my brothers.” You grinned, “Thank god for your brothers.”

[lottiematthewsdefender]

Adult Lottie headcannons

Note ! Adult Lottie head cannons cause it feels like I just got broken up with

Pairings: Adult Lottie Matthews x gn!reader

• Adult Lottie who always wakes you up with tea(or any other drink you like if you don’t like tea) or breakfast in bed.

• She wakes up extra early every morning just to prepare food and drinks for you, making sure that you start your day with a nice, enjoyable meal. She takes pleasure in starting your day off right, even if it means sacrificing her own rest.

• If you are at her wellness center, she will express her love for you by hugging you from behind and giving you neck kisses while you're doing chores or during your therapy session :3

• She's also definitely the type to come up from behind and wrap her arms around you, saying "Guess who it is?" She'll make you guess until you get it right (and you'll probably purposely guess a few wrong names just for fun.)

• she will write love letters for you and put them in cute envelopes with doodles on it and waits for you to find them by standing from afar.

• on holidays and your birthday, she will make sure to leave your favorite flowers on your bed side table, making sure to take off thorns and put it in a vase for you.

• on days that you don’t feel okay and had a rough day, before you and her go to bed she will listen to your problems and will help you through them :(

• whenever she will leave the wellness center to run errands she will come back with your favorite snack or take out.

• Music while cooking and dancing is a MUST it just makes it feel so much more lively.

• When you have a rough day at work and you tell her when you get home or before, she will draw you a bubble bath with soothing music and candles, along with dimmed lights

• on Valentine’s Day, your birthday, anniversary, or really any holidays where it’s just the two of you, TRUST it’s a home cooked dinner with candles and your favorite flowers waiting for you.

Second post!

I’m watching the new Yellowjackets episode as I was writing this and so I got too tired to spell check because my attention span is wayyy too short

Lottie is so adorable in that dress in this episode😭

[whoredyceps]

"OH LOVER BOY!" || 28 Days of Love: A Valentine's Challenge + Series

day twenty-two: "are you sure you want to do this?'

ᰔ pairing: din djarin x reader

ᰔ summary: the mandalorian sought refuge with you, and now it was your turn to seek refuge in him.

ᰔ author's note: if you're like 'hm this seems like that one episode at the beginning', it is. this is just self-indulgent if we're being honest with each other.

ᰔ content warning: none i think :)

You stood in the doorway as you watched the bounty hunter. It was quiet, save for the shuffling as Din moved around the hut. That, and the sound of your sad attempt to stop your tears. Little sniffles and sighs slipped from you despite how hard you tried to stop them.

"You really have to go?" You finally broke the silence. If there was anything you hated more than watching Din pack, it was the sound of silence between the two of you. You stomached enough during the times that he left you on your own.

"I do," Din sighed. "I'll return as soon as I can."

Your stomach turned, another soft sob slipped from your lips. You were so valiant every time Din left, but you didn't have it in you to put up the front this time.

"I want to come with you, Din. Please," you begged. "I can't stand another minute with you. Being all alone in this house, in this village– it's driving me mad."

It was true. You lived on a small planet that sustained itself, and there was little trouble. It had been a place and a life you had always known, generations of your family that never saw life beyond the atmosphere.

When a Mandalorian arrived and sought refuge in your little village, you offered your home to him. It was a tight space, but you were the only one able to house another person, along with a very small being. Most other dwellings housed families or older folks, and you knew just the Child alone was too much for them.

His first visit threw you into a tailspin. You had heard of life beyond your planet, tales told by late night fires or by elders who had actually traversed the stars in their youth. It had been a dream of yours to see what lay beyond the night sky.

When a strange man arrived with a small green creature, bloody and in search of a place to heal, your people welcomed him with open arms. Once he had a cot in your home, he asked you to look after the child before he slept for at least two days.

After he woke, you asked as many questions as the Mandalorian would tolerate. You quickly learned he was more willing to talk in the mornings, or when he watched the Child play with other younglings in the village.

The first time you said goodbye, it hurt a bit. You knew he had to leave, but you knew you'd miss what the bounty hunter brought. Stories, company, something new that you weren't ready to let go of yet.

As you watched him disappear with his ship, you let your ideas and dreams go with him. It was back to the life you had always known.

When he returned a second time, you thought you were dreaming. Yet the bounty hunter stood before you, the Child in his arms, as he asked if he could seek refuge with you again. You accepted him in without question.

You had grown fond of the Mandalorian and his youngling. As time had passed, and with each visit, the two of you had formed a sort of bond. You craved the sights he saw, and Din craved the ease, peaceful life you provided him.

Each visit, you learned more about the man under the armor. You learned it was called beskar, and it was stronger than most steel. He shared the way of the Mando'a following, his dedication to the people who saved him. Bits and pieces of the traveler had created a puzzle in your mind, one that slowly became the bigger picture that was—

"Din."

It was late and you were getting ready for bed. You and the bounty hunter shared a space, two cots on either side of the room. The Child slept in a makeshift bed you had crafted from blankets that had been donated from villagers.

"Is that the name of the little one?" You asked. The two of you had just finished talking about the youngling, your mind still on his origins and why he had a bounty on him.

From the small mirror, you saw the Mandalorian shake his head. He was sat up in bed and his back was pressed to the wooden wall. He shifted; it was only during the evening that you saw him truly relaxed.

"My name. I know yours," he started. "It didn't seem right to sleep in your home, or eat your food without you knowing mine."

You were quiet for a beat before you smiled and continued to wash your face.

"Din. I like that."

In truth, you had come to love Din. Every visit was a blessing you hoped for every night. When he was gone, you looked to the stars and hoped one shot across the sky, it was the Razor Crest passing by.

The last visit was the first time you felt as if you had been punched in the gut when he left. It seemed wrong, to watch him tear himself from the comfort you two had created within the four walls you lived in. Every time Din left, he took a piece of you with him.

How much more could you give away before you wanted it back?

"I'll come back," Din assured you. "You won't enjoy a life on the run. There's no safety, no security except for the blaster I keep on me."

You shook your head, your arms crossed over your chest. Din knew of your dreams to see the stars, to traverse and explore what was beyond you. It hurt, but you knew he wanted to keep you safe.

"Take me with you. Please, Din. Just this once, let me come with you. If I can't take it, you can bring me back home. You'll come back when you can and I'll stay here. No fighting, no pushback."

Din looked at you, and you looked back at the mask. You were serious. If you went and couldn't take it, you'd let him bring you home. Just this once, you needed to try. Perhaps it would be a story you'd tell to the local younglings. Perhaps it would be the beginning of a new life, a new you.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Din asked.

You felt a swell of hope in your chest. If it wasn't a no, that was good enough for you. You nodded quickly, your hand on his arm where the beskar plates separated.

"More than anything. Just this once. That's all I ask."

Din grew quiet again, but he nodded. He had spent enough time with you to know you were able to hold your own. His next bounty was low stakes, and you could keep an eye on Grogu while he did his job.

Though, even if he wanted to tell you no, it would have been impossible. Din had grown too used to the feeling you brought him. You were his comfort, his brief moment of peace. When he sought safety, he had found his fair share of desolate planets that he could hide on. They weren't the same. They weren't you.

"Pack what you need. Make it quick," Din said. He had never seen you move with such haste as you bolted around the dwelling. You threw everything you had into a sack, ready to follow wherever the bounty hunter led.

"You're–"

"I'm sure, Din. If you ask again, I'm taking the Razor Crest without you," you warned. You didn't know the first thing about flying it, but you'd figure it out.

Din chuckled, a sound you had grown fond of. Your excitement was refreshing.

"I'd like to see you try. Come on, we need to find Grogu."

You looked around your home one more time before you followed Din out of the door. It was the easiest decision you had made in some time. You hoped to not see it again for a very, very long time.

[holylulusworld]

A (pre-) Valentine dream (5)

Summary: What’s one more, right?

Pairing: Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader, Soldier Boy x Reader, Jensen Ackles x Reader, Beau Arlen x Reader, Russell Shaw x Reader, Sam Winchester x Reader, Alec McDowell x Reader

Warnings: language, implied smut, mentions of smut, fangirling, RPF (partially), fluff, Valentine’s Day fluff, a new arrival

Catch up here: A birthday dream (4)

Dream a little dream… masterlist

“Whoa, no sweetheart,” Dean grunts as you tried to watch another movie starring Jensen Ackles. “You know that motherfucker is a killer, right?”

Frowning deeply, you glance at the DVD you found at the flea market. It’s a movie with Jensen you have never seen before. “A killer? What? No, it’s called Valentine.”

“Yeah, bloody Valentine,” the hunter grunts before breaking the DVD into two halves. “Trust me, your apartment is already crowded with dudes looking like me. We don’t need a killer among us.”

“Not sure about Soldier bitch,” Russell throws in. “I think he’s not a nice guy either. Have you seen the show?”

You whimper. “He’s not a bad guy. They experimented on him and betrayed him. He’s not evil or something.”

“Hmm…” Dean is not convinced, but this can’t be helped. Ben is already in your universe and won’t go away. “No more movies with Ackles for you.” He says and points a finger at you. “We’ve got our hands full of dicks already.”

“You mean I got my hands full of dicks,” you tease, but cross your heart and swear it. “Fine, no new movies or shows with Jensen. Can we watch something else then?”

“No—” Sam interjects. “We never know if your subconsciousness decides to dream about some other guy. We don’t want to find Captain America or the Hulk in your bed.”

“Or both,” Ben throws in. “She’s a greedy slut, loving cock. I bet the huge green cucumber is just her thing.”

“Eww…no. I have self-control. That green dick is too big, but I wouldn’t mind going for a ride with the Winter Soldier. He’s a hot piece of ass.”

“Another killer,” Dean stops you from daydreaming. “So, no.”

“He’s only misunderstood. It wasn’t his fault that—” Beau clasps one hand over your mouth and shushes you.

“No, baby. No talking about other dudes in this house,” he whispers in your ear. “You can watch the shows you already know with all of us. We skip scenes with other men, though.”

You snicker. “Then we will see five minutes of each show or movie.”

“Good. They are all awful but mine,” Ben plops down on the couch. “Let’s have a marathon with my episodes.”

Dean is fast to snatch the remote control out of Ben’s hand. “Nope. We will spend today as planned. Have a nice dinner, and later, dessert.” His eyes drop to your crotch. “Lots of desserts. I’ll eat that sweet pie until she begs me to stop.”

“Guys, what are you up to?” You watch all of your men sit on the large sectional sofa you got some weeks back. “You are worrying me.”

“You’ll love it, baby,” Beau purrs as they all settle on the couch. “We have this whole day planned. You’ll get your favorite food for dinner, dessert, gifts, and lots of sex.”

“Lots of sex, huh?” you tug at Beau’s shirt. “How about you tell me in detail how much sex we will have?”

“Uh, guys,” Sam clears his throat. He nervously looks around the room, meeting his brother’s eyes. “It’s February the 13th. Valentine’s Day is tomorrow.”

“What?” Dean grabs his phone to look at the date. “Sonofabitch, Shaw! You fucked up! Remembering the date was your only job!”

“What? I told you this week is Valentine’s Day. You never clarified that you want me to remember the exact day,” Russell snickers as you crawl onto Ben’s lap.

“You idiot!” Jensen rolls his eyes. “Dean, Sam, and I have a job. You are hanging out at Y/N’s apartment all day. It was your job to keep important dates in mind.”

“Hey, that’s not a problem at all,” you purr while nipping at Ben’s neck. “How about we watch random episodes of my favorite shows with you, and we can still have dinner and dessert?”

“We could stay awake all night and party into Valentine’s Day,” Jensen suggests as you are busy leaving bite marks on Ben’s neck.

All of your men settle on the couch; they wait for their turn to get kisses and little love bites. You love making out with them but settle for cuddling tonight to watch your favorite episodes of their shows.

“Let’s watch Dark Angel,” you yawn and snuggle closer to Jensen and Dean. “It was the show making me fall for you, Acklestastic.” You smirk as Dean grunts. “Aw, don’t be jealous, Deano. You were the one inspiring me to bring you all here…”

“Fine, let’s watch that crap…” The men finally agree, hoping to appease you to get more than cuddles later…

“The fuck no!” Dean aims his gun at the intruder, staring down at your naked body. Well, not only your naked body.

The party go out of hand and ended in an orgy with your men. Ben and Russell lie next to you on the bed. Beau, Sam, and Jensen somehow ended up sleeping on the ground while Dean was already up to prepare breakfast for all of you.

“Who are you, kid?” Dean glares at the guy glaring back at him. He looks like his spitting image, only a few (or like twenty) years younger. “How did you get in here?”

“Who are you?” The stranger replies. He cracks his neck and raises his fist. “Are you up for a fight, old man?”

“What the fuck?!!!” Soldier Boy is out of bed before Dean can shoot the new arrival. He tackles the younger version of Jensen to the ground, holding him down. “Who are you?”

“What? Where?” Finally, the rest of the bunch wakes, earning a grunt from you as you blink your eyes open. “Guys, more sleep, less noise.”

“Y/N, we are going to have a serious conversation about this…him now,” Dean grunts as you crawl toward the edge of the bed to look at Ben holding someone down. “OH…no…not again. I’m afraid I brought Alec here…”

“From Dark Angel?” Jensen hiccups. He’s on his feet to look at the man Ben holds down. “Crap, no. He’s a kid…”

“Hey, who do you call a kid, old man?” Alec grunts. He wiggles in Soldier Boy’s hold, fighting with all his strength. “I’ll rip you apart if you don’t get off me.”

“Uh—he’s got super strength too,” Jensen says. “You better not mess with him.”

“Tell them, old man!” Alec grunts while trying to buck Ben off. “Get off me, asshole.”

“Alright,” you say and clasp your hands together. “Uh—this is not my fault. Jensen was talking about this role and that he was sad about the sudden end of Dark Angel.”

Ben finally releases Alec, stepping away but keeping an eye on the younger man. He cocks his head as you help Alec up.

“Sorry, this must be confusing. I summoned you here by accident,” you hastily explain how he ended up in your world and that you’ll do your best to send him back.

“So, let me get this straight,” Alec looks around the crowded bedroom. “You all got summoned here and live with her.” He licks his lips and cups his crotch.

“Yeah, but you are not invited,” Dean and Soldier Boy grunt in unison. “Now sit down, kid, while we try to get you back to your world.”

“I don’t know,” Alec purrs. “I think she needs a younger version of all of you. I got more stamina than you, old man…”

Part 6

[manszen]

valentine’s day

pairing. fem!reader x trafalgar law.

summary. law wonders how he can make it up to you.

contains. fluff, established relationship.

word count. 1.2k.

note. i may or may not have word vomited with this one.

anyone could tell from the first impression that law isn’t someone you would consider a romantic.

his usually tight expression says so. he’s dry and blunt, gets easily irritated when something is out of his control — well, that’s just the way he is. but for whatever reason, you admire him for it.

he’s aware of where your relationship with him stands. it’s right there on the edge of a precipice, bound to tip over to the side that burdens the other. a beautiful disaster awaiting, so to speak.

his reason? you’re kind and he’s not. you’re gentle. he’s ruthless. you’re radiant. he’s gloomy.

polar opposites in every aspect. yet somehow, it works.

the two of you work.

it’s a bit unusual for him to be immersed in the thoughts of you. not that he doesn’t think of you — he does. but most of the time his mind is already preoccupied with his responsibilities as a captain, and as a doctor next.

he’s carrying multiple lives in his hands, after all.

but once he realizes there’s no one else in the rented inn that he shares with the rest of the crew, he allows himself to wonder about you just a little bit more.

you care for him, that much is obvious. when he forgets to do it for himself, you’re already there. gingerly reminding him that he’s the expert and he should know better. that even doctors need their rest and help from other people. all the while donning a cheeky smile on your face.

you take care of him all the more when no one else can reach him. sometimes at night, when the memories of his tormenting childhood come back to haunt him, you’re there — stroking the anxious creases between his brows, the frown curling on his lips; and the only thing helping him to calm down is your hushed whispers of ‘i’m here, you’re safe’, your tender embrace that soothes his inner child.

you’re that loving. and you never once complained at his own lack of sympathy, or at least, the little amount thereof.

the fact that you’re even used to his little episodes of isolation, his sudden avoidance from people that have nothing to do with you, you never kicked up a fuss.

it’s why he finds you disarming and beguiling at the same time.

and it makes him mad — so, so mad — that he’s difficult the way he is.

you don’t complain nor demand anything from him. as far as he can recall, it’s always you that gives, never takes anything for yourself.

it’s as if you already know he cares for you in a strange but honest way, and that is enough on its own.

law distractedly closes the medical book in his hand that’s long forgotten since he started thinking of you. suddenly, he feels worthless, trapped in his own body.

there’s a high chance you would feel unappreciated if this slack behavior of his goes on. he’s aware that most couples often express their affection — either by corny declarations or expensive gifts, whichever works — and that exactly where his dilemma lies.

he doesn’t do any of those.

he doesn’t feel the need to do any of those.

but that doesn’t mean he shouldn’t do any of those.

he groans. he can feel a headache coming from miles away. when he closes his eyes for a quick rest, he imagines you playfully scowling and ready to berate him for overworking his brain yet again.

“damn it,” he shakes his head. this is why he tries not to delve into his feelings. you make him feel warm all over and giddy.

he glances at the scenery past the open windows, watching the gentle wind breeze through the row of bushes outside. he sees something that piques his interest, and upon confirmation, unintentionally uses his powers to check it a tiny bit closer.

“room,” he commands, and the pale blue sphere immediately covers the area with him at its center. he unsheathes kikoku from her scabbard, and expertly severs the object he has his eyes on.

once he thinks he got it, he snatches a random napkin on the table and directs again, “shambles.”

whatever is exchanged in the center of his palm brings out a soft smile to his lips.

“hey, captain.”

in his haste, law hides his flustered hands beneath the table. “hey, you’re back early,” he coughs, seeing you so picturesque at the inn’s entry way.

“my feet are tired.” yawning, you saunter over to him. “did you have fun?”

“more or less. want to retire for the night?”

you nod.

he collects his things before leading you back to his room. he makes sure to not show his hands to you, but even if he does, you’re more fixated on the trinkets that are scattered around in the hallway.

“i think i like this inn better than the last one,” you muse.

he grunts as a reply, but then remembers about his earlier agenda — his newfound agenda of becoming a better boyfriend. “same here,” he says in between his teeth, earning him a puzzled look and an even more amused smile from you.

you don’t comment on his behavior. it’s silent for a while, only the sounds of your footsteps could be heard across the floor. he opens the door to his room, side-stepping to let you in first, which again, earned him a skeptical glance.

“ladies first,” he tries to be smooth, but heaven knows it sounds incredibly hoarse.

still, he’s grateful you don’t make a jab at him. you obediently enter his room and he follows after you. he watches your expression change from being wide-eyed to droopy, and there’s a silly little smile on your face as you sigh, “alone finally.”

you’re not alone, technically speaking. he’s with you inside the room. but law bites his tongue, refraining from letting his crude mouth run loose. instead, he observes you like a hawk as you stretch your arms above your head, yawning ungracefully as you do.

you’re saying something unintelligible. maybe asking what his plans are after dinner, or maybe when is the right time to go back sailing the seas. but he couldn’t care less about any of that.

right now, he’s deeply and immensely attracted, and he finds himself walking closer to you.

god damn it. how could someone look so beautiful and unguarded at the same time?

“law?”

“hmm?”

“are you alright?”

he’s now a few inches away from you, and with the height difference, you have nothing else to do but to look up at him. it makes him smirk, “never been better.”

you bite your lip.

“i missed you,” law admits after a moment, becoming serious all of a sudden.

he watches your eyes go wide, before lifting up one tattooed hand to brush your hair behind your ear, sneaking something through the strands of your hair.

a subtle fragrance drifts in the space between, and you reach out to touch where his hand has just been, “what’s this?”

“it’s hydrangea,” he mumbles, taking a long look at you then deciding that it suits you. it suits you very well, much to his relief. “it means gratitude and apology.”

you giggle. although, bewilderment is still apparent in your eyes, “what did you do this time, law?”

he shrugs. he’s not particularly asking for forgiveness, simply that he feels the need to do something — to give you something since he’s usually the one on the receiving end.

“already forgiven.”

law rolls his eyes, the grin you're wearing is too infectious. “you’re so easy to please.”

you chuckle, appreciating the flower — his flower — that he sneakily placed by your ear.

“and you’re a bit of a romantic when you want to be.”

stealing, modifying, translating, or reposting this work on other platforms is strictly discouraged.

[skullsemi]

I'm new to your Tumblr blog and I wonder how Gladstone and Mortimer met.

Well, I normally answer these with art but I just gotta be a real nerd on this one and tell you the canon events which THAT could have happened

• Great Valentines' Ball (1982) - B 820041

Gladstone and Mortimer both steal Mickey's and Donald's pairs (to the surprise of none). I know it's just a little thing but the fact that they were on the same party AND same page of a comic does make me scream. Yeah it's just a detail but does put a smile on my face and shows EXACTLY how they can be the same and how they have the same trope as well.

• Duckburg's Carnival Party (1982) - B 810236

If I had a nickel for every time Gladstone dances with Daisy, leaving Donald angry and Mortimer dances with Minnie, leaving Mickey angry, both at the same big party in Duckburg— I'd have two nickels. Which isn't a lot but it's weird that it happened twice.

• House of Mouse (2001)

Gotta say it is my personal favorite. Mortimer frequently hangs out in the place and by Gladstones' cameo appearance in the episode "Goofy for a Day" in the Penguin Waiters advertisement, shows that he was there at least once and yep- that's more than enough for me.

Sure I like them a normal amount

[spirk-fic-recs]

Hi! This one might be a bit of a long shot, but I've had no luck so far despite both asking around and putting a hell of a lot of time into it, so I figured I'd see if you know what I'm looking for!

Just about the only thing I remember is this: Before Kirk became Captain, Spock was largely antisocial. He had no real friends or confidants. When Kirk joined the Enterprise, however, he puts effort into befriending Spock, and, to the shock of the crew, Spock responds well to this, becoming very nearly talkative once it becomes clear to him that Kirk is genuinely interested in what he has to say. I believe Uhura is the POV character for some of this, and she muses that she feels guilty that she never realized that Spock wasn't antisocial entirely by choice.

I think it was probably TOS (though it's always a toss up whether things are tagged properly), and it was probably decently short (under 14K), but neither of those are guarantees. It would have been complete, though.

(If you don't know the fic off the top of your head, don't feel too obligated to go searching - I've done a fair amount of that myself (and haven't given up yet), but frankly I am starting to worry that it's just been deleted since I first read it 😅 so, uh. no need to trouble yourself overmuch!)

Hey @a-most-beloved-fool! Unfortunately this doesn't ring any bells for me, but I'd still like to give you some wholesome recs with Uhura's POV as well as her friendship with Mr. Spock /Jim 🥰 For anybody that knows which fic our friend is talking about, feel free to reply to this post so that we may locate it:) Uhura POV / Spirk-Uhura friendship fics:

Jim and Nyota's Guide to Friendship (TOS, 11382 words) by Solid_Medical_Advice

A collection of little stories in which Kirk and Uhura look after each other and love each other. These two are my absolute favourite platonic pairing, and I don't see enough friendship rep between these two! Some of the stories are episode- and movie-related, others are just silly thoughts I had. Updates as I come up with them.

Yellow Roses for Her, Orange Roses for Jim (AOS, 13978 words) by Misscar

How do you survive your break up when you must live and work with your ex? How do you move on to someone else without wrecking two very important friendships? Valentine's Day 2259 will be entertaining. This is a different type of love story. A Valentine's Day story for the rest of us.

Girl’s night (TOS, 4512 words) by T_Bar

Spock could not remember just when did he and Uhura become such good friends, nor could he recall when did she first invite him to spend the evening together watching ‘cheesy’ rom-coms from the twenty first century while she did his nails. He did however remember that tonight, they had yet again scheduled their “girl’s night”.

not my type (AOS, 7469 words) by soetry

Nyota now feels ridiculous for thinking that Commander The-Only-Reason-I-Don't-Always-Get-My-Way-Is-Because-I-Believe-In-Federation-Law Spock would ever actually let something go.

My absolute favorite. pure crack

Intemperate Hearts (AOS, 4077 words) by ByCandlelight

How could Spock be lonely?

Strange Spectacle (TOS, 12585 words) by batwonder

It is a well known fact across all known galaxies that Vulcans are a very private people. Be it in culture, civilian life… in all aspects of their lives, they keep to themselves. They do not encourage emotion or public displays of affection. Even the vulcans that are allowed to be more intimate, such as married couples, only seem to “touch their hands”, and nothing else. This is why, when James Tiberius Kirk, captain of the USS Enterprise, publicly stated that he was in a serious relationship with his Vulcan first-officer, people were… stunned, to say the least.

In this fic, Uhura makes an appearance in Ch. 2 hehe

Happy reading!

-M