#but hurting dai in this way hurts dark too

[obeymeluv]

In Your Defense [PT 2 - Octavinelle, Scarabia, Pomfiore]

You decide to work at Sam's for Valentine's Day and your crush just happens to hear a customer hitting on you. If they get arrested, can you be their alibi?

AKA: This person has a death wish and you find out your crush might be jealous?

Note: Each one is random and some will be longer than others. If I made everyone the same length this thing would be MASSIVE and I would probably die.

Not proofread because of the length. Trying to get everyone done today. It's my last day off for a few.

Whatever part Ortho is in will be platonic, obvs.

Happy V-day!

Azul is no stranger to visiting different shops to stay on top of trends. Valentine's Day wasn't something they had in the Coral Sea so this trip was more for the experience than anything. He's taking in the overwhelming but impressive amount of red, pink, and white decorations while trying to look at the other shoppers out of the corner of his eye.

What are they buying? What's most popular?

The holiday seems too brief to plan a full menu, or even to-go specials. Maybe he can do something next year.

There's an emphasis on chocolates and sweets. He's not even eating any of it and his teeth hurt! The small chocolate assortments make more sense than the huge brick of chocolate--dark chocolate?--several Pomfiore students are planning to split between themselves. His stomach hurts at the thought of trying to eat even a third of what they're holding.

In his opinion it's an unimpressive holiday. A marketable one for sure, but unimpressive. Clearly it's meant for the nice, sentimental, mushy people out there.

Not to say there's no one he'd spoil. No one he cares about. Matter of fact, he's got something crunchy in his basket for Floyd! And if it weren't for his mother living underwater, she might like some of these cutesy knickknacks! A set of cookie cutters catch his eye and Azul throws them in his basket without thinking.

Damn hand-brain.

He stares into his own basket, wondering what the justification is. There's a part of his brain saying he doesn't need a reason but he's not an impulsive person. He's a practical person and the practical reason he needs those cookie cutters is to make cookies for the lounge in case any poor soul misses their chance to get something from Sam's!

Yes. Yes, that's it.

He may or may not be trying to tell you he likes you by collecting heart-shaped things. You'll check him out at the register and he'll just keep handing you heart things. Offering his heart over and over.

Not that you'd know. Azul doesn't have the guts to tell you yet. He's got three hearts but no guts.

It's just not the right time, he tells himself. Not the right way.

He puts sprinkles and chocolate stirring spoons into his basket. There's a little mushroom figurine that has white hearts instead of the usual spots. That's for Jade.

Azul weaves between the shelves to get to the refrigerated section, buying a couple of cartons of milk and ice cream. He's not fast but he's stronger than he looks. Aside from the work in his mother's restaurant in the Coral Sea, cooking on land has cultured a lot of muscle in unexpected ways--straining full stockpots, blending quarts of sauces, roasting whole chickens, and hefting huge fish onto the cutting board for portioning. It'll be nothing to carry it all back.

He just doesn't like to do it. And he doesn't like to lose his voice or go completely pink in front of you, but he does. Azul tries to look without looking, charmed by the glittery dangle in your hair and how it brings out the color of your eyes.

Then, he hears it. "How much do you cost?"

It is not enough to beg his pardon. The Seven must also be begged.

A fury whips up inside of him. He's furious that it's just so easy for that lander to chat you up. He's furious that he's not confident enough to do it when he's been drowning in these feelings for weeks. The manager part of his brain kicks in and he becomes furious that you're being accosted on the clock.

SAM WOULD NEVER, BUT WHERE IS HE?! STAFF SHOULD NOT BE MADE TO ENDURE SUCH CONDITIONS!

"Hardly appropriate for the occasion, don't you think?" Azul has stepped in with his signature smooth smile and calm demeanor. He has no cane, hat, or coat at the moment but he knows he makes people uncomfortable without them. There's something about him that makes people nervous. The pecking dread of 'he's human but not totally human' makes them jumpy and very prey-like.

"I-I was just messing around," the guy deflects.

"There's a time and a place. Unfortunately, it's not here and not now. You're interrupting the flow of business and I don't think the other patrons are happy," Azul hums a little as he and the abysmal Casonova look back at all the people in line. They are, in fact, not happy.

"I'll just go." he grabs the change bashfully and doesn't look back.

Azul thanks the person who let him cut in line, half wondering if said person will come back and try to coax a favor out of him. "Thanks, Azul." you smile at him.

"You're most welcome." Azul adjusts his glasses before layering the bags on his arms. You help him with the door. "I'd be happy to treat you to a milkshake. You know, something sweet to make up for whatever THAT was." he gestures to the guy in the distance.

WHY IS HE TALKING? WHY DID HE KEEP TALKING? THE LEGS NEED TO MOVE BUT THEY'RE NOT!

"Sounds great! I'll stop by after my shift."

"Okay," his voice cracks a bit but you don't hear it because the door's already closed. He breaths a sigh of relief.

----

Floyd was sent to pick through the pink and red chaos at Sam's while Jade and Azul redecorated for a Valentine's special at the lounge. It was a last-minute idea inspired by the deluge of advertising. They'd gotten bigger things in town like tablecloths and fancy napkins but smaller treats were lacking. He was tasked with getting melting chocolates and pre-made stuff to balance out the strawberries and fresh groceries they bought.

A big, aggravated sigh passed through his sharp teeth. The line is long and he doesn't really want to do this. Floyd feels his brain shutting off as his looks at heart streamers and silver-and-pink tinsel. At least I won't have to slave over a hot burner all night, Floyd sighs again as he looks at the goods and wonders what would make Azul happy.

The menu will be limited. Each item is heart-shaped, sweet, or both. It honestly just sounds like an excuse to sell people overpriced sugar.

Floyd buys a couple packs of melting chocolates in different colors and some crunchy sour candies for the trouble. Jade sends him a text asking him to grab a couple of cans of whipped cream for the pancakes and crepes. He steps out of line, grabs the cans, and pauses when he hears the guy shoot his shot.

"How much do you cost?"

Really?

Landers are so weird. They don't seem to have any conditions for mating. Why would you entertain this dude when he hasn't shown you he could provide or protect you? Spending money to buy things so he could talk to you isn't the way to provide. Buying your time is no different than those underwater pricks trying to curry his dad's favor with gifts.

It's disingenuous and disgusting.

"I don't see a 'for sale' sign. Can't buy it if it's not advertised." Floyd frowns at the little worm in front of him, sharp teeth poking out beneath his upper lip. "That's how shops work if you didn't know." Floyd laughs.

He was stupid enough to ask you out so he might be too stupid to realize why that pickup line didn't work.

"R-Right." the guy nods, swallowing thickly. Floyd was absently rolling his shoulder, annoyed with how long he'd held the basket. The guy noticed his working muscle and booked it, grabbing most of his change. A coin skipped off the counter, twinkling under the lights. Giggling to himself, Floyd stooped to pocket the change.

"Heya Shrimpy,"

"Hey Floyd," you started scanning the basket of items.

"Ya hungry? It's pretty busy in here."

"A little." you admitted. "But I'll be off soon. I can go back to Ramshackle and make something."

"Nah, come to the Lounge! We're doing specials for groups and couples."

"Does Grim count?" you give a little laugh. Azul lets him in sometimes depending on his attitude. At the very least, he'll let Grim get something to go.

"You get the best deal if you go with me. I'll buy your whole meal." Floyd wiggles his eyebrows at you playfully. His gold eye shines.

"Oh! I like that! I'll bite!"

"A bit early for that but I'll see you there." Floyd knows what he said has confused you. You landers aren't really keen on stuff from the Coral Sea but that's okay. He had a date with you and that's what matters.

----

Jade isn't quite sure what Sam's inventory will hold but he's been tasked with finding interesting things for the Lounge. Pink things, shiny things, profitable things--anything. Azul is convinced it will give him an edge over other places to eat. Never mind the fact that convenience is key and the students don't want to pay for the bus fare or compete with crowds in town.

He peruses the chocolate molds and candy necklaces, amused by the fact you can wear it and eat it. What a novel idea! Sam put a few types of tea on reserve for him and Jade knew they were pretty shades of pink and blue when brewed so that was something. The mer picks up a box of crunchy straw-like things and puts them in the basket. If they don't work as real straws, they can be milkshake accents.

Loaf cakes catch his eye. You could get at least ten slices out of each; top them with a bit of ice cream and you have a cheap but elegant-looking dessert. He puts a few in the basket. Teas considered, Jade is confident in his choices and ready to check out.

"Oya oya? What's this?" Jade's golden eye pierces the spineless lander in front of him. Did his ears deceive him or were you being accosted by unworthiness? "Do repeat yourself. I'm interested."

It sounds like an ask but it's not. It's a demand. A demand for this man to prostrate himself as an apology for his inferiority. For the gall to so much as breathe in your presence.

A punishment for conceiving the notion to approach you, he supposes. A light punishment, all things considered. Jade was capable of far more than some casual embarrassment, after all. His smile was polite but his words were anything but. "Go on. You may not have their full attention but you have mine."

"J-Just forget I said anything, okay?" the guy completely ignores him to whimper to you. He snatches whatever he bought so quick Jade doesn't know what it was.

No matter.

"Hello there," Jade smiles down at you. You definitely fit the holiday theme. Oh! Does that mean he should take you back to the lounge? You're interesting and that fits Azul's criteria.

Yes, he thinks you'd be perfect in the lounge.

"Hi Jade." you pack his items away dutifully. You bag the teas carefully.

Pink and shiny--yes, you must come to the lounge.

"Seeing as you're working for Sam today, I'd love for you to stop by and try these teas. I'm sure he'll appreciate feedback from more than just myself."

"I can make time for tea."

"Perfection."

----

Kalim is admiring the myriad of pinks and reds, bracelets and bangles jingling as he skips into Sam's. Valentine's Day is an interesting holiday. It's practically bursting at the seams with color and he's delighted to know red features heavily. The holiday is practically made to host in Scarabia!

Maybe they could make a red-inspired menu? A red and pink menu? He can't really think of foods that would fit the theme and he'd rather not give Jamil a stomach ache trying all of the chocolate things in here. Kalim trots off to look at the flowers and trinkets, just narrowly avoiding Jamil's stern grab. "Don't run off without me!" Jamil chastises, Kalim giving a half-hearted hum as he analyzed a pair of gold and red earrings.

They weren't cheap but they weren't expensive, either. The price point was fair, Kalim thought. Being who he was, he'd learned to tell the quality of gems and gold from a young age.

Would you like jewelry? He's never seen you wear jewelry. Kalim has bugged Jamil about you a million times, bouncing ideas off of him until he was so frustrated he left the room.

"I think they'd appreciate food more, given their circumstances." Jamil puts the earrings back on the shelf.

"But I always give them food, Jamil! Don't you think they want something different?"

"You're overthinking, Kalim," Jamil taps him in the forehead with a finger. "People are simple. Give them food and attention."

"I would've taken them out on a carpet ride but someone hid my carpet." even when Kalim was trying to cut his red eyes and look peeved, it didn't work. His face was too round and cherubic for it.

"I don't trust that thing," Jamil huffs, guiding him back to the line.

Kalim listens to people talk about plans to split chocolates and call relatives to see what they'd like and a sad pang cuts through him.

Why isn't it that easy for him? He's got more money than people could ever dream of and yet he feels like he's not doing enough for you.

Not that you'd know what he's done for you. He hasn't exactly said he likes you yet. Surely he'd made it obvious with all the invites to Scarabia, right? You hadn't quite caught on to the grocery drops yet but he understands the confusion; Crowley took credit for at least one of those and Kalim was not happy.

"I see an empty-handed Imp!" Sam makes him and Jamil jump. "Are my wares not enough for you, Little One?" he tuts at Kalim's empty hands.

"Oh there's lots of cool stuff!" Kalim promises, smiling brightly. "I just have to be careful about what I eat!"

"What about some roses? Those are popular! They're up there by the register. And we have small fruit arrangements in the refrigerated section, of course."

"Actually, we're just here to deliver an invitation." Jamil redirects Kalim when he seems to be thinking about going to the refrigerated section.

"We could get some festive napkins!" Kalim is leafing through packs of heart designs and colors. Sam seems satisfied. Jamil heaves an irritated sigh as the store owner moves on to his next mark.

Kalim almost drops the napkins when he hears what the guy said to you. It takes Jamil by surprise, too. Jamil starts to panic when Kalim doesn't move; Kalim's outbursts were rare but even rarer were the moments he just froze.

A frozen Kalim means he's contemplating. Dipping his toes into the side of himself he doesn't ever show because it disgusts and disappoints him. The young boy squares his shoulders and raises his head in a way that proves he was raised with etiquette and presence. It's the walk of someone unconcerned because he has so much money that nothing is a problem.

Quick as a flash that cunning, stewing heaviness disappears. Kalim hooks his arm around the guys neck, taking him by surprise. Disarmed by his sunny grin and stunned by his boldness, he stumbles over to a wall of cards. Jamil slithers through the aisles and positions himself just so to listen.

In these rare moments, when Kalim puts on that face, they think alike. Kalim hates these moments because it shows him that people just want money. That they'll trip over themselves for enrichment, compromising morals and anything else as long as the price is right.

But this time it works in his favor.

"Instead of asking how much they cost," the sunniness slowly drains from Kalim's voice, "ask yourself how much it would cost for you to leave them alone. Like, not ask them out again. At all. Ever."

It's the first time someone at NRC realizes Kalim's not all sunshine and rainbows. And that his pampered life hasn't left him completely soft. Kalim had to go through the same training Jamil did, being the heir to a massive fortune and all. He needs to be able to hold his own even though he shouldn't expect to.

Only he and Jamil know some of his rings are hollow and hold poisons. The guy doesn't know how close he is to said poisons.

"Y'know, it's, uh..it's on me. Free." the guy squeaks out, dipping out from under Kalim's arm.

Content, Kalim skips up to you and hands you the decorated envelope with gold calligraphy. "Please come to my party!" he looks at you hopefully, eyes shining.

"I would love to! You know I love your parties!"

"Perfect! I'll pick you up when you're done, okay?" Kalim waves to you.

"KALIM DON'T LEAVE! WE HAVE TO PAY FOR THE NAPKINS! COME BACK!" Jamil has no idea how many sets of napkins he just left with. "Keep the change," he breaths, darting after him.

----

Jamil was taking a rare moment to himself. Lilia and Cater promised they'd keep Kalim occupied for a little while so he could take a breather. They both understood what it was like to look after people, even if it wasn't as serious or to the same degree. The Pop Music Club sessions were normally two hours long, so he had time. Kalim had been yammering nonstop about the Sam's Valentine's setup so Jamil promised to take a look on his behalf.

He grew up around unfathomable finery, almost indulgent to the point of foolishness. Gold forks, gold plates, a knife handle carved from a tree in the Sunset Savanna and inlaid with diamonds--you name it. Perhaps that was why nothing caught his eye, Jamil thought.

So many people were excited about it, though. He had to put himself in their shoes. Their average shoes, just like he was forced to be average lest Kalim feel inadequate.

Poor thing, Jamil rolled his eyes. He was a pro at filtering out noise thanks to Kalim and his ridiculous number of siblings. It was easy to let his brain go and really look at the trinkets and seasonal food. Loathe as he was to admit, some of this stuff was cute.

Jamil let himself bask in the happiness. The freedom.

This is what he wanted for himself one day--traveling, seeing the sights, sampling unusual foods at special times of the year.

Maybe this wasn't so silly after all.

He picked up a few packets of instant curry, only what he felt he could eat and dispose of before fetching Kalim. Curry was a huge weakness of his and he hated that Kalim practically banned it. The amount of caffeine and tea he drank probably bordered on unhealthy (or at least deserved research) but it didn't stop him from throwing a canned coffee into his basket. Because he liked his curry savory and hot, he threw in a strawberry-rose milk drink. It seemed interesting.

Jamil felt the crick in his neck when he snapped his head up in disbelief. Who was this nobody asking you out?!

HOW MUCH DO YOU COST?!

With no Kalim here to temper him, to distract him or force him into the mediocrity, Jamil thought of letting go and lighting the guy up just because.

It really was appalling, his approach. Nothing to offer? What talents or skills did he have? What made him so special, more special than anyone else at NRC?

Nothing, that's what. He probably didn't even know HALF of what Jamil did!

"More than you will ever earn," Jamil answered him. "I'm sure your capacity to make money is on the same pitiful level as your self-awareness. Or do you need glasses to see they're not interested?"

He was known for his biting wit so this was nothing out of character. The way he stared into the boy as if to set him on fire might have been, had no one ever seen him try to get Floyd to cooperate in Basketball Club.

He'd earned his Viper namesake, the boy's ego clearly bitten and bruised as he dragged himself away. His words were deadly, much like Viper venom. Jamil didn't bother watching him leave, setting his basket quietly on the counter and taking out the items.

"Thank you."

All of that venom suddenly dried up. Jamil was feeling quite shy and toothless, not that he'd ever admit it. If he looked up at you, he knew he'd be done for. He could feel his neck heating up.

Unable to resist poking a little fun at him--when did you ever see him blush?--you handed him the change and slapped a smiley face sticker on the back of his hand.

IT HAD HEART EYES!

"I have to go." Jamil took off.

----

Vil was disciplined ninety-five percent of the time so he could indulge the other five percent. Rook all but dragged him to Sam's, waxing poetic about the holiday in all it's pink, sugary glory. He even made Vil promise not to look at any labels while he shopped. Or he could just compromise and let Rook buy him one sweet that he would have to eat no matter what.

That didn't seem too bad, so Vil conceded. Live a little, right?

Several companies had reached out to him in the beginning of February but their products were gluttonous and made him feel sick just looking at them. He felt like he'd be doing his followers a disservice to promote them because they just looked like death in a package. The only one he'd considered so far was a juice from an organic company called 'Beautiful Blends'.

No, not because they had beautiful in the name. The ingredients were organic--he researched the farms--and they had a nutritionist and dietician developing the blends. They had a blend for energy, immune support, digestion, and even one for headache relief. He was interested in the actual beauty blend; it had strawberry, coconut milk, collagen, and several other things he was interested in. It was a milky pink and perfect for Sam to sell during Valentine's Day.

NRC wasn't exactly health-minded outside of Pomfiore so he wasn't worried about missing out. He broke off from Rook, moving with grace and purpose to the refrigerated section. Vil took a split second to admire his reflection in the glass door, satisfied with his skin and the loose hair that escaped his half-bun but had the courtesy to frame his face despite its disobedience. His ring and nails clinked against the glass bottle but he paid it no mind.

"Would you like a basket?" Rook offered his. Vil peered curiously into said basket, unsurprised to see other flavors of Beautiful Blends in there. Rook knew him eerily well. Maybe he knew which ones he'd like to try. He also knew Vil was against overconsumption and wouldn't buy them all at once nor of his own volition.

"I'm fine, thanks." Vil smiled at him, appreciating his constant presence. His discipline and tenacity tended to chase a lot of people away but not Rook. There were people who appreciated him for his routines and followed him loyally, but not like Rook.

Rook wasn't just a 'yes' man. He was Vil's balance in every aspect. As if to prove that, he took the Beautiful Blend from Vil and put it in the basket. Vil didn't like his hands getting wet because that messed with the lotion he applied and it left a weird film on his hands the rest of the day.

"I just said--I BEG YOUR PARDON?" Vil was caught off guard by the flirtation and couldn't believe his ears. It was rare for anyone to surprise him but some NOBODY is trying to make nice with HIS POTATO?!

AS IF!

All he can manage is, "HOW GAUCHE!" as he breezes to the front of the line and stares at the man, absolutely floored. This moment would be a permanent reference for any scene where he needed to look surprised. And lost for words.

And disgusted. And furious.

"You don't think we'd make a cute couple?" the guy teases.

"You want to know what I think?" Vil proceeds to systematically point out the guy's flaws--posture, hair, that one zit coming up in the middle of his forehead--before pointing out that his greatest offense is his sheer selfishness. He's selfish for putting you in a situation where you might cave under peer pressure!

"That's enough, Roi du Poison," Rook shushed him, patting his arm and forcing it down so Vil quit pointing at the little gremlin. If he didn't stop him, he'd keep going. Rook was secretly glad he'd grabbed the Beauty Blend out of his hand earlier; if he was any more worked up it might've gone across the guy's head.

The guy was stunned by the takedown. Vil pointed out things he hadn't thought about. Things he was already insecure about (Vil could tell). "Apologize!" Vil barked in that Housewarden voice.

"I'm sorry." the guy left with whatever trash he bought.

Vil took a moment to compose himself, hands on his hips as he watched the gremlin leave. Fully relaxed, Vil walked to the counter and motioned for Rook to hand him the basket. He set everything out like nothing happened.

"Thank you, Vil."

"It was nothing." he clicked his tongue, waving his hand dismissively.

"Not to me."

Oh, you're clever. And honest. And cute. Maybe he'll drop a hint about his crush in his next interview. Rook forgets he knows French, too, and Vil smashes his hat down on his head on the off chance you know what 'he wants to love you and hug you and kiss you' is in French.

----

It's only natural that Rook would show up for the Valentine's Day sale. He is, after all, a lover of love. Sam never fails to disappoint with his wares and Rook is having a grand time perusing the aisles. There's copious amounts of candy, thoughtful cards, card games for couples, and fill-in-the-blank books with cute phrases and poems!

"You're mine," he smiles at said book, putting it in his basket. There's condensed versions of romantic classics and, had he not read them a million times before, that would be in his basket too. He picks up a pair of heart-shaped glasses for Vil. The desire for liver pate rises in him and he doubles back to check the canned meats. Midway through his careful search, he hears the...attempt...at woo.

A sad, beautiful, nervous attempt.

Rook rises to his full height, feather on his hat dancing almost indignantly as he moves to the front of the aisle. He has half a mind to huck that can of pate hard enough to scare the boy but that would not be very beaute of him.

"Mon amie," Rook drapes his arm around the boy's neck with a disappointed sigh, "There is much to teach you in when it comes to romance."

"Like what? I--" Rook knows that's rhetorical and the guy could care less what he's going to say but he uses his uniqueness to his advantage. He launches into a small monologue about how romance is considerate and kind, not brash and unrefined like that heartfelt confession. Love is delicate like morning dew and tender like the tempting embrace of your bed seconds before you have to get up for the day. Above all, love is knowing your partner in all aspects, which includes when things have gone too far and are not welcome.

Sure, a handful of people left the store entirely but mission accomplished. The guy left shortly after Rook subtly dragged his confession. Satisfied, Rook flashed you a kind smile and unpacked his basket.

"And sometimes love wears a purple hat with a little feather." you smirk at him.

"Oh, Trickster! My heart!" Rook places his hands on his cheeks, face a pretty pink that compliments his green eyes.

---

In the spirit of Valentine's Day, Vil loosened the reigns of Pomfiore's diet for the day. Epel wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth and immediately set off for Sam's. With luck, he'd still have some meats on sale. The holiday was all about fluff and pink and sweets so he wasn't worried about missing out on macarons.

To his delight, there was a selection of macarons. He was in hog heaven! If anyone heard the noise he made, it was probably the deepest and most demented thing they'd heard since Vil got his paws on him and 'refined' him. Epel was going to eat himself sick and regret it in the morning but not right now.

He picked up a second basket just for meats, afraid to crush his beloved macarons. The hamburger buns could share a basket with them, but not the meats. Knowing he had a calorie pass for the day unleashed something primal in Epel. All of a sudden he had SO MANY IDEAS.

Bacon burger? Bacon burger.

Hell, he could even make himself a little less homesick and have a traditional Harvestinian breakfast! He put a small thing of breakfast sausages in the basket. The instant grits were a bit of an insult, as was the 'heat and eat' pulled pork but the portion was reasonable and it wouldn't be money down the drain if Vil confiscated it tomorrow.

His patience begins to thin as he waits in line. The baskets are heavy but they're nothing he can't handle, growing up on a farm and all. The line doesn't seem to be moving at all! What in tarnation?, Epel squints menacingly, leaning out of line to see what the hold up was.

DID THAT NOBODY JUST ASK HOW MUCH YOU COST?!

It's clear you're uncomfortable and even MORE clear that this dude is NOT GETTING THE HINT.

As someone who's been hit on more than he cared for, this makes him mad on a whole 'nother level. You're doing all the right things--redirecting, professional body language--but this guy thinks he's going to get his way.

He's not. Everyone knows it but no one's saying anything.

Well he's gonna. What would his grandma say if he just stood by in a situation like this? He puts his hair up in a ponytail and glares at the guy.

"Were you raised in a barn? Couldn't be because EVEN ANIMALS KNOW WHEN TO LEAVE ALONE AN' GIT!" he gets louder with each word, rolling ups his sleeves. He spares his meat basket a quick glance and picks up the still-cold bacon. It's firmer than the hamburger patties and could give a decent wallop. "GO ON NOW, GIT!" Epel brandishes the bacon.

The guy is understandably confused and concerned. Probably the first time he'd been threatened with cold food. If he wasn't going for beef and bacon, he would've snagged a bag of frozen chicken wings and really wailed on the guy.

"I SAID GIT!" Epel chases him out like the dog he is, the guy narrowly dodging a bacon smack.

Word was going to get back to Vil for sure but he didn't care.

"Looks like you're going to have a good time!" you ring up the meats.

"I'm a free man today! Of course I'm gonna have a good time!"

"Have a good day, Epel. Thanks for stopping by!"

"I...I'd have a better time if you wanted to come eat some of this with me. I-I was plannin' on inviting Jack and Deuce, too. And Ace. Ace likes hamburgers. Vil lets me grill outside of Pomfiore sometimes." he starts to ramble, voice getting smaller and smaller as he goes.

"Sure! I'll grab some drinks and stuff when I get off." you smile, double-bagging the meats.

He's red as an apple when he leaves and that'll get back to Vil, too, but he doesn't care.

[ducktoo]

Again

IVE’s Jang Wonyoung x M!Reader

Note: I have resorted to the sacred prompt list by Anon again….this helped me so much frrr. Hope you will post your first ever fic here so I can tagged you!!

This concludes the unofficial (or official ig) IZ*ONE marathon. @hyeyulenjoyer hope this was a fun ride for you. And thank you everyone for enjoying these fics as well! Also appreciate IVE for paying respect to the recent tragedy. All the dumb haters who find ways to hate them again....just touch grass pls.

(this was the perfect picture for this fic lol)

The tickets sit on your desk, undisturbed, their glossy surface catching the dim glow of your bedside lamp. You don’t even need to read the text printed on them anymore. The details are already burned into your brain.

A fan sign.

It was supposed to be special. The kind of thing you looked forward to for weeks, marked on your calendar with a little star. You were supposed to show up, tease her about messing up choreography, make her laugh in the middle of a serious performance, see that look in her eyes that was just for you.

Now, the tickets feel like a joke.

Your phone is face-down beside them, dark screen hiding the messages you haven't opened yet—the well-meaning texts from friends, the casual work notifications. All messages except from her.

Wonyoung.

You close your eyes, but it doesn't help. The memory of your last call with her is still fresh, the words playing over and over like a song stuck on repeat.

"I just don’t have time for this anymore."

"For us, you mean?"

"Mhm."

The way she said it—calm, measured, like it was just another item to tick off on her to-do list—had made something inside you crack. There had been no anger in her voice. No hesitation.

That…hurt more than anything.

You had wanted to say something, anything to make her stop. To remind her of the nights spent whispering over the phone until she fell asleep, of the rare moments when she let herself be vulnerable with you, of the way she would light up the second she saw you waiting for her backstage to take her to eat a whole cow together.

But you couldn't mutter a voice.

You had just sat there, phone pressed to your ear, fingers gripping the fabric of your hoodie so tightly it threatened to tear.

And then, just like that, she was gone.

It was three days ago.

Three days of checking your phone too often. Three days of convincing yourself you were fine. Three days of staring at these damn tickets on the desk and trying to figure out why you hadn’t just thrown them away. You should sell them. Give them to someone who’d actually enjoy them.

But something stops you.

Maybe it’s pride. Maybe it’s stubbornness. Maybe it’s the stupid, lingering part of you that refuses to admit that she’s really gone. Whatever the reason, you find yourself gripping them tighter instead of throwing them away.

You decided that you will go.

Not for her. Not to see her.

Just so you don’t have to sit in this room, drowning in thoughts of what used to be.

That’s what you tell yourself, anyway.

-

The venue is packed.

Fans shuffle forward in line, their chatter buzzing in the air like static. Excited whispers, rustling light sticks, the occasional squeal when a favourite member’s name is mentioned.

Your fingers tighten around the album in your hands. (Ironically you still hold onto her album)

This is normal for them. For the fans around you, this is just another fan sign. A chance to meet their idols, to share fleeting moments, to walk away with a signature and a memory they’ll cherish for years.

You should feel the same. Instead, you’re just… tired. Who could blame you, you’re about to come face-to-face with your ex-girlfriend.

And she has no idea you’re here.

Your grip on the album tightens as the line inches forward. The first few members greet you with polite smiles, their voices light and bubbly. You do your best to respond normally, but your mind is elsewhere, trapped in the inevitable moment that keeps creeping closer and closer.

You don’t need to look up to know she’s at the end of the table. You can feel her presence.

And then, suddenly, there’s no more time left.

Your album slides across the table. Long, slender fingers stop it in place.

There’s a small pause—so brief that no one else seems to notice—but you do. You feel it in the slight delay before she looks up, in the way her fingers tighten just a fraction around the album’s edge.

And then her eyes meet yours.

She looks the same. Flawless, as always. Every strand of hair perfectly in place, makeup soft and ethereal under the bright overhead lights. And those sparkly eyes that you often got lost in.

But…she’s not yours anymore. Not at all.

There was a flicker of something—recognition, surprise, something deeper—crosses her face. But it’s gone in an instant, replaced by a carefully neutral expression.

Her lips part slightly, but no words come out at first. Then…

“Hey.”

It’s awkward. Too awkward. You can feel the tension hanging between you, thick and suffocating.

You swallow, trying to ignore the way your chest tightens. “Hey.”

For a split second, she looks like she wants to say something else. Like she wants to break the script, ignore the rehearsed greetings and practiced smiles.

But then—

She doesn’t.

Instead, she picks up her pen, the mask slipping back into place. Her expression evens out, and in a voice so perfectly professional it almost stings, she says,

“Thanks for coming.”

Just like she would to any other fan. That made your stomach twists.

You should’ve known. Of course, she wouldn't acknowledge it. Not here. Not in front of all these people.

Still, it doesn’t make it hurt any less.

You swallow the lump in your throat. “Yeah. Would’ve been a waste of money if I didn’t.”

Something flickers across her face, but it’s gone before you can catch it. She presses her lips together, nodding slightly. “Right. Can’t have that.”

She signs her name, her handwriting as neat and practiced as always. But there’s a hesitance in the way she moves, a slight delay before she lifts the pen from the page.

When she finally pushes the album back toward you, her fingers linger just a second longer than necessary.

Then, in a voice so quiet that only you can hear…

“Take care, okay?”

She’s looking at you now. Really looking at you.

And for a moment, just one fleeting moment, she’s not the Jang Wonyoung, the IT girl, the global superstar.

She’s just…Wonyoung.

The girl who used to call you late at night just to hear your voice.

The girl who used to lace her fingers through yours under the table when no one was looking.

The girl who told you she didn’t have time for you anymore.

You stare at her.

The words stick to your throat. You genuinely don’t trust yourself to say anything.

So you just…don’t.

You just take the album, stand up, and walk away. And even as you disappear into the crowd, you can still feel her eyes on you.

-

You’ve been doing fine.

Or at least, that’s what you keep telling yourself.

It’s been a few days since the fan sign, and you’ve buried yourself in anything that keeps your mind occupied—work, games, mindless scrolling through your phone. Anything to keep yourself from replaying the look on Wonyoung’s face at the fansign. From remembering the way she hesitated before handing your album back. From thinking about the way her gaze kept flickering toward you as you walk away, as if she was looking for something.

Or someone.

But that’s not your problem anymore. You told yourself that the moment you left the venue.

Which is why, when your phone starts ringing at an ungodly hour, you almost don’t check the caller ID. Almost.

The second you see her name flashing on the screen, your stomach twists.

Jang Wonyoung.

The ringing continues, each second stretching unbearably. You should let it go. Turn off your phone. Pretend you never saw it.

But you don’t. Because deep down, you know you still want to hear her voice. So you answer.

“...Hello?”

There’s silence on the other end for a moment, followed by a soft giggle—breathy and drawn out, the kind that used to slip past her lips whenever she was feeling particularly affectionate.

"Dummmyy!" she hums, stretching your nickname like it’s some sweet, familiar melody.

“Wonyo. Are you drunk?” You sigh, ignoring the way your nickname for her easily rolled out of your tongue.

She giggles again, the sound loose and unguarded. "Mmm… maybe."

"Goddamn it." You rub your temples. "Where are you?"

A rustling noise filters through the receiver, followed by the distant hum of traffic. "Somewhere," she mumbles. "Some bar, I think. The girls took me out."

Figures.

You shift in bed, propping yourself up against the headboard. “It’s late.”

“I know,” she says, not sounding the least bit apologetic. “But I wanted to call you.”

You close your eyes, exhaling through your nose. “Why?”

She doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, there’s a soft exhale, the kind she lets out when she’s gathering her thoughts. Then, quieter…

“Because I miss you.”

Your fingers tighten around the phone.

"Don’t do that," you say quietly.

"Do what?"

"Say things you don’t mean."

Another pause. When she speaks again, her voice is steadier. "But I do mean it. I do miss you."

You swallow, trying to keep your voice steady. "Well, that’s not my problem anymore, is it?"

She goes quiet.

For a moment, all you hear is the faint sound of music in the background, the distant chatter of people. She’s probably in the back of some high-end bar or a private lounge that someone of her status often went. You can picture it too easily—her long hair falling over her shoulders, her lips painted red, the glow of the city lights reflecting in her eyes.

Your heart beat rapidly at the image.

"You came to the fansign," she says suddenly, cutting into your thoughts.

You rub at your temple. "Mhm."

"Why?"

"You already know why."

"Say it anyway."

You sigh. "Because I had the tickets. It would’ve been a waste."

She lets out a humourless laugh. "Right. Can’t have that."

Something about the way she repeats your words from that day makes your stomach twist.

There’s another long pause. Then, almost hesitantly.

"Did you feel anything?"

Your eyes widened. "Feel what?"

"When you saw me again." Her voice is quieter now. "Did you feel anything?"

Your jaw clenches. You want to lie. Want to say no, not at all. That it didn’t matter. That she doesn’t matter. But you can’t.

Because the truth is, you felt everything.

The way your heart clenched when she looked at you. The way your stomach twisted when her fingers hesitated over your name. The way your mind screamed at you to move on, to stop letting her affect you, to stop caring.

But you don’t tell her any of that.

Instead, you settle for, "Who cares anyway."

"Why not?"

"Because we’re done, Jang Wonyoung."

She sucks in a sharp breath, and for a second, you wonder if she’s about to cry.

"You-" She stops, swallows. When she speaks again, her voice is unsteady. "You didn’t even try to fight for me."

Your grip tightens around the phone, knuckles turning white. "You were the one who ended things. On the phone, may I remind you."

"I know," she whispers. "And I thought it was the right choice. But now I just—" She breaks off, voice cracking slightly. "I don’t know anymore."

You shut your eyes.

It would be so easy to give in. To tell her that you don’t know either, that you still think about her, that you still wonder if maybe—just maybe—this wasn’t supposed to end like this.

But what’s the point?

She made her choice.

And you’re tired of being the one left picking up the pieces.

"You’re drunk, Jang Wonyoung," you say, voice carefully even. "Go home and go to sleep."

"Wait—"

"Goodnight."

And then, before she can say another word, you hang up.

The silence that follows is deafening.

And yet, for the first time in days, you finally let yourself breathe.

-

Or at least, it should be.

You did the right thing, you tell yourself—cut it off before it could spiral any further. Before you let yourself believe, even for a second, that anything has changed.

But still, the weight in your chest lingers.

The room feels too quiet now, the kind of silence that presses in from all sides, making it impossible to ignore the thoughts creeping into your head. You lie back down, throwing an arm over your eyes, willing yourself to sleep.

You don’t know how much time passes before you hear it.

A knock.

You freeze.

At first, you think you’re imagining it. Sleep-deprived, emotionally drained, and still reeling from that damn phone call, your brain must be conjuring things that aren’t real. But then, the knocking got more insistent. Erratic, yet insistent.

Your brows furrow. You sit up, straining your ears.

"Who the hell…?"

It’s almost 3 AM. No one in their right mind would be visiting you at this hour. Then again, you just got a call from a drunk girl not in their right mind.

Knock, knock, knock.

It’s louder this time, clumsy and uncoordinated, like whoever’s on the other side can barely keep their balance. A sinking feeling settles in your stomach.

You begrudingly throw off your blankets and push yourself up, padding toward the door. Your hand hovers over the handle for a second before you sigh and pull it open.

And there she is.

Wonyoung.

She’s standing there in the dim, flickering hallway light, wrapped in a thin coat that does nothing to protect her from the cold. Her long hair is slightly tousled, the glossy perfection from the concert gone, strands falling loosely over her shoulders. She sways just the slightest, a delicate wobble on unsteady feet. Her lips are slightly parted, eyes glassy—not just from the alcohol but from something else. Something unreadable.

You blink.

She blinks back, like she’s just now processing that you’re standing in front of her.

Then, with absolutely no warning, she wobbles forward, collapsing against your chest.

You barely manage to catch her. “Jesus—Wonyo.” You gently hold her arms, steadying her. “What the hell are you doing here?”

"Surprise," she breathes, half-laughing, half-sniffling.

You let out a sharp breath. “Surprise? You’re seriously—” You stop yourself, jaw clenching. “How did you even get here?”

"I took a taxi," she announces, like that explains anything. Like that justifies her showing up at your door past midnight after breaking up with you.

You stare at her. “Alone?”

“Mmhmm.”

Your stomach twists. “Wonyoung, do you have any idea how dangerous that is?”

She just hums, leaning more of her weight onto you. Her forehead presses against your shoulder, and you can feel the slight tremble in her body.

You sigh, tightening your grip. “You’re freezing.”

“I was walking.”

“Walking where?”

She doesn’t answer. Instead, she tilts her head back to look at you properly. Her lips part slightly, like she’s about to say something—something serious, something she’s probably been holding in for too long. But then, she hiccups.

You close your eyes, exhaling sharply through your nose. “You’re unbelievable.”

She smiles lazily, like she didn’t just show up at your door dead drunk in the middle of the night after breaking up with you.

"You hung up on me," she murmurs.

You pull back slightly, just enough to see her properly. “Yeah. I did.”

"That was mean," she says, pouting. "I was talking."

"You were drunk."

"Still talking."

You shake your head, adjusting your grip on her. “Come on. You need water. And sleep.”

She hums, letting you guide her inside. “Only if you let me stay.”

You pause.

For a brief second, something in her voice sounds painfully sober.

But then she giggles again, burying her face in your chest, and you decide that you’ll deal with that in the morning.

For now, you just hold her close.

You sigh, pressing your lips into a thin line as you shift your grip on her. She’s barely standing at this point, practically melting into you like she has no bones in her body.

"Alright, come on," you mutter, wrapping an arm around her waist and leading her inside.

She stumbles slightly, her fingers gripping at your shirt as she giggles under her breath. "You smell nice," she mumbles.

You ignore that.

You close the door behind you with your foot, guiding her toward the couch. She flops onto it with zero resistance, her coat slipping off her shoulders. The moment she’s down, she tilts her head back, blinking up at you like she’s expecting something.

She doesn’t hesitate. Stumble inside like she belongs here.

And maybe that’s the problem. She did belong here.

And now? Now you don’t know.

Her eyes lazily drift across the apartment, lingering on the things she still remembers—the half-empty cup of coffee on your desk, the hoodie she used to steal draped over the chair, the faint indent in the couch where she used to curl up next to you.

Then she noticed your desk, the same desk where the fansign ticket sat just days ago. The same one she saw in your hands at the fansign days ago.

"You really came," she murmurs, not looking at you. "I didn’t think you actually would."

You shrug. "Like I said. Would’ve been a waste."

She flinches. Just the tiniest bit. But you catch it.

She exhales slowly, arms wrapping around herself. "It was weird."

"What was?"

"Seeing you there. But not... There, you know?" She fully looks at you now, and there's something raw in her expression. Something you’re not sure you’re ready to face. "You didn’t smile. You didn’t tease me like you usually do. You barely even looked at me."

"What did you expect?" you ask quietly. "You dumped me, Wonyoung. You can’t just expect me to act like nothing happened."

She presses her lips together, fingers gripping the hem of her sleeve. "I know."

You wait. Give her the space to say what she came here to say.

But she doesn’t. Not right away.

She defeatedly sighed, tucking her knees under her chin, looking smaller than she ever has before. She stares at her hands for a long moment before mumbling, "I don’t know why I came here."

You scoff. "Really? Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you drunk-called your ex, then showed up at his apartment in the middle of the night without a plan."

She frowns. "I do have a plan."

You raise an eyebrow. "Yeah?"

She huffs. "Step one: get inside. Step two..." She falters, looking away. "...I didn’t think that far."

You shake your head. "Unbelievable."

Silence stretches between you, heavy and unspoken.

Then, barely above a whisper, "Do you hate me?"

You freeze.

Your first instinct is to say no. Because of course you don’t hate her. You never could.

But that’s not the right answer, is it?

So instead, you tell the truth.

"I don’t know," you admit. "I want to. But I can't."

She looks up at you then, eyes searching. Hopeful and afraid all at once. "I messed up, didn’t I?"

You let out a hollow laugh. "Yea. Big time."

She swallows. Lowers her gaze again. "I thought breaking up would make things easier. For you…for both of us."

"Did it?"

She shakes her head. "No."

You run a hand through your hair, exhaling. "Then why did you do it?"

"I was scared," she says, and her voice is so small, so unlike the confident idol the world knows, that it almost hurts to hear. "I thought I was being selfish, holding onto you when I barely had time to see you. I thought you deserved more than stolen moments and rushed phone calls."

Your jaw clenches. "You didn’t even ask me what I wanted."

"I know," she whispers. "I thought I was making the right choice."

You sit down across from her, legs spread, elbows on your knees. "And now?"

She meets your gaze, vulnerability laid bare. "Now... I just miss you."

Your heart leaped a mile. This was the Wonyoung you always see. Not the glamorous and model-esque Jang Wonyoung everyone always see on TV. Not the well-spoken and powerful public figure everyone knows. Just…a gentle yet bubbly girl who snuggled up next to you on the couch at the end of the day.

But your brain should tell her to leave. To sleep it off, to sober up and think about this when her mind is clearer.

Then she reaches out—just the slightest, her fingers brushing against yours on the couch. And you don’t pull away.

"You’re drunk," you remind her, though your voice lacks conviction.

She smiles faintly. "Thanks…Mr. Obvious."

Silence. Then, tentatively, "Can I sleep here tonight?"

Another hesitation.

But just like before, you already know your answer.

You sigh. Your hand intertwined with hers.

"Go get a blanket. Wonyo."

She doesn’t move right away. Just watches you, like she’s memorizing you all over again.

Then, with a small, almost relieved nod, she gets up and stumbled into your bedroom as she dragged you along—the same bedroom she used to slip into after long schedules, the same one she used to call hers.

And just like that, the distance you tried so hard to create crumbles.

Again.

[bytemee]

WE CAN'T BE FRIENDS (WAIT FOR YOUR LOVE) — YU JIMIN.

"just wanna let this story die, and i'll be alright."

synopsis. what was once love now feels like a wreck, and nothing will ever be the same between them.

pairing. mean!sorority!karina x loser!gp!reader

warning(s). angst, cheating (not really bc they're not dating), mentions of drinking, karina is mean :(, just sad no happy ending

words. 1.3k

authors note. hi guys happy valentines day masterlist soon ok

part one. part two. part three. headcannons. request. navigation. main masterlist.

family emergencies don't wait for anyone.

you barely have time to throw things into a suitcase before you're running out the door, heart pounding with worry and adrenaline. the flight feels like it drags on forever, leaving you with too much time to imagine the worst possible outcomes.

every missed call and text from karina stings, but you can't bring yourself to respond. you're already juggling too much.

karina doesn't hear from you for three days.

she finds out you're gone when she shows up at your dorm unannounced, expecting you to be there like always—because you're always there. like the obedient little puppy she trained you to be. but the room is empty, the bed half-made, and your phone is going straight to voicemail every time she calls.

at first, she thinks you're just ignoring her. a part of her almost admires the audacity. but then she checks your drawers and sees the clothes missing, the toothbrush gone, the little signs that you didn't just leave for the night—you left. and you didn't tell her.

it hits her like a punch to the gut, knocking the breath right out of her.

then rage coils in her stomach like a snake, tightening with every unanswered text.

where the fuck are you?

don't make me find you.

you think you can just disappear on me?

by the time the third day rolls around, she's furious. humiliated.

people keep asking where you are, and she doesn't have an answer. you made her look stupid. weak. you left without a word and expected her to just sit and wait? to not do anything?

like hell. fuck you.

so she goes out. parties harder than she has in months. lets her sorority sisters pour her drink after drink until the room spins and everything feels numb, because you made her feel something, and she doesn't want to anymore. she doesn't want to feel anything ever again.

then there's a girl.

not you, but someone close enough in the dark. someone who doesn't hesitate to put her hands where they don't belong, someone who doesn't make her wait, doesn't make her question if she's wanted. karina lets it happen. lets the girl kiss her, lets hands wander, lets herself pretend—just for a second—that you don't exist. that this is all there is. that she's still in control.

when you come back two weeks later, she's ice-cold.

at first, you think she's mad that you left without telling her properly, that she's just giving you a hard time. but when she won't even look at you, when she brushes past you in the hallway like you're nothing, the dread settles in your stomach like a stone.

then the videos start spreading around campus. one of her with a girl. her hands on the other girl's skin. her tongue in the other girl's mouth. the two of them drunk, laughing, kissing.

you can't stop watching them.

the videos aren't anything explicit, but they're damning.

you can't believe she would do this to you, after everything you've done for her, everything you've given her.

it hurts.

you want to scream at her. you want to ask her why—why she did it, why she pushed you away, why she made you feel like you were nothing. you want to know if she felt anything, if she even cared about you at all. but you don't. instead, you let the anger simmer beneath your skin, burning through your veins like wildfire.

you're done. you're so fucking done.

the next time you're face to face is completely coincidental. she's on her way back to her room from a party, drunk off her ass and barely able to walk in a straight line. you went to her sorority house to get some things of yours from her room, as winter promised you karina wouldn't be there.

but of course, she is.

karina doesn't notice you at first, too busy trying to steady herself against the wall. her makeup is smudged, her hair a mess, and her steps uncoordinated as she tries to focus on getting back to her room. but then she stumbles, catching her balance just in time to look up—and when her eyes meet yours, everything in the air freezes.

for a moment, neither of you move. you can smell the alcohol on her breath and see the haze of drunkenness in her eyes. she looks like shit. then, as if snapping out of a trance, you take a step forward—only for her to flinch back, her body pressing against the wall.

her reaction stops you dead in your tracks.

"stay away from me."

you stop in your tracks, throat tightening. "i just want my stuff. that's it. then i'm gone."

her eyes are glassy. she looks like she might cry. "i don't have them."

your hands clenched into fists. "yes, you do. my jacket and a book. you have them."

she shakes her head. "i threw them out."

"why would you do that?"

she exhales shakily, eyes darting away. "because you left." her voice is barely a whisper, her words slurred and uneven. "because you didn't even tell me. you just disappeared."

you scoff, shaking your head. "are you serious? i had an emergency, karina. my family needed me."

her jaw tightens, something unreadable flashing through her expression. "and i didn't?"

you blink. "that's not fair."

karina lets out a hollow laugh, bitter and sharp. "neither is finding out you were gone by walking into your empty fucking room."

you don't know what to say to that. because she's right. you should've told her. you should've sent something, anything. but you didn't, and now you're stuck, the two of you, standing in the middle of the hallway with no idea where to go from here. but that doesn't change what she did.

your voice is quieter when you finally speak. "you didn't have to—" you gesture vaguely, unable to say it. "—do what you did."

her gaze drops, shoulders tensing. her voice is low. "i don't know what you're talking about."

you let out a frustrated sigh, stepping closer. "you know exactly what i'm talking about. those fucking videos. everyone saw them."

she doesn't move, her breath hitching in her throat. "i didn't do anything."

your hands curl into fists, anger rising in your chest. "don't lie to me, karina. i know it was you. why would you do that? were you that desperate to...i don't know? try and get back at me?"

karina's eyes are glassy, but whatever vulnerability was there a moment ago hardens into steel. she straightens up against the wall, brushing at her smudged makeup. when she finally speaks, her voice is cold.

"you really think you were more than just my little pup?"

the words hit like a punch to the gut, taking your breath away. karina stares you down, chin tilted up defiantly, daring you to argue, to fight back. but you can't. because no matter how angry, how betrayed, how humiliated you are, you still care about her.

"you were convenient, that's all. always there when i needed you. following me around like a pathetic stray, waiting for scraps of affection. and you lapped it up, didn't you?"

"karina, stop," you whisper.

she doesn't stop. she steps closer, her words venomous. "i needed someone to depend on, and you were just there. do you think i would've chosen you otherwise?"

your throat tightens. every syllable feels like another dagger to the chest.

"when you left, i realized how easy it was to replace you. how easy it would be for me to find someone else. and i did." she smiles, sharp and cruel. "do you want to know her name? or do you prefer not knowing?"

tears well up in your eyes despite everything, hot and burning. you blink rapidly, but you can't stop them from falling. 

"i gave you everything," you say, your voice barely holding steady. "i was there for you every second you needed me."

"and that's all you were good for," she snaps. "you should've known your place. a good little pup doesn't run off without permission." 

then, she pushes past you, her shoulder bumping yours as she stumbles toward her room. "go home, y/n," she mutters, voice breaking just slightly. "there's nothing left for you here."

and just like that, she's gone.

you're left standing alone in the hallway, heart aching, tears streaming down your cheeks.

taglist - @brocoliisscared @spidrgamer @kimminjiissosjdirbidnsjje

[blairxbear]

When they realise they are in love with you.

MHA Class 1A Head cannons

Izuku Midoriya

• He doesn’t realize it at first—it hits him like a train when someone else points it out.

• You’re patching up his wounds after a battle, scolding him like usual, and he just stares at you.

• “They care about me so much… I don’t ever want to lose them.”

• That’s when it clicks—his face turns beet red, and he literally short-circuits trying to process it.

• He starts writing about you in his notebooks, not just as a hero, but as his hero.

• Tries to confess a dozen times but ends up stammering and running away.

Katsuki Bakugo

• He freaking hates it when he realizes he’s in love.

• He notices he gets jealous when you talk to others too casually.

• He starts training even harder because he wants to be stronger for you.

• The moment it fully hits him? You defend him from someone bad-mouthing him, and his chest tightens.

• “Shit… I don’t just like them. I love them.”

• He won’t say it out loud but becomes insanely protective overnight.

• If someone flirts with you, he glares daggers and pulls you closer.

• His confession is awkward but genuine—probably blurts out “I love you, okay?! Now deal with it!”

Shoto Todoroki

• Love isn’t something he understands right away—it’s foreign but comforting.

• He notices he trusts you more than anyone else and actually wants to be around you.

• One day, you brush a strand of hair from his face, and his heart skips a beat.

• “Why does my chest feel warm? Is this…?”

• He spends weeks thinking about what this feeling means.

• His father’s influence made him fear attachment, but with you, he feels safe.

• He realizes he loves you when he catches himself smiling for no reason just because you exist.

• When he confesses, it’s simple but deeply meaningful—“I think I love you. No, I know I do.”

Eijiro Kirishima

• He’s the type to fall fast and hard, but he won’t admit it until it hits him like an explosion.

• You do something small but meaningful, like fixing his hair or remembering his favorite drink, and suddenly, he’s melting.

• His brain just goes: “Oh no. Oh NO. I LOVE THEM.”

• The moment he realizes it, he becomes the most obvious person alive—grinning like an idiot, blushing when you compliment him.

• Denki figures it out first and teases him relentlessly.

• He confesses spontaneously—probably during training or when you’re just hanging out.

• “Hey… I, uh, love you. Like, really love you.”

Denki Kaminari

• He thinks he’s just crushing on you, but one night, you laugh at one of his dumb jokes, and his heart flips.

• “Wait… why do I want to make them laugh forever?”

• He starts noticing the little things—the way your eyes sparkle, the way you say his name.

• Suddenly, every love song reminds him of you.

• He realizes he loves you when you comfort him after a bad day, holding his hand without judgment.

• He panics—freaks out and tells Sero before he even tells you.

• Ends up blurting it out without thinking—probably during a sparring session.

• “Oh, shit—did I just say that out loud? …Well, I meant it.”

Henta Sero

• Realizes it slowly but surely—love creeps up on him like his tape until it’s wrapped around his heart.

• It happens during a casual hangout, maybe when you’re laughing at one of his dumb jokes.

• “Damn, I’d do anything to hear that laugh every day.”

• His friends notice before he does because he starts bringing you up in every conversation.

• “Oh, Y/N likes that movie too!” “Y/N would totally win this game.”

• When he realizes, he’s cool about it but lowkey dying inside.

• He confesses casually but sweetly, probably while sharing a snack.

• “So… I’m kinda in love with you. Thought you should know.”

Fumikage Tokoyami

• He doesn’t see it as love at first—he calls it “a deep admiration”.

• Dark Shadow calls him out first: “Dude, you’re OBSESSED.”

• He realizes he loves you when he misses you more than he should.

• The thought of you being hurt makes his blood run cold—he becomes fiercely protective.

• He confesses in a poetic and dramatic way—probably quotes some gothic literature.

• “My heart, once shrouded in darkness, now finds solace in you.”

• He’s nervous about whether you’ll accept him, but when you do, he’s deeply devoted.

Tenya Iida

• Love is logical to him, so he doesn’t understand why his brain short-circuits around you.

• Realizes it when he starts worrying about you more than necessary.

• “Are they drinking enough water? Did they eat today? Should I check on them?”

• The real moment? You tell him to relax, placing a hand on his arm, and suddenly, his heart is racing.

• He denies it at first—tries to rationalize it.

• But one day, you cheer for him in a match, and it clicks—he wants you by his side forever.

• His confession is formal but flustered—“I have come to the realization that I love you. I hope you will accept my feelings.”

Mashirao Ojiro

• He falls first but doesn’t say anything—he’s the quiet type about his feelings.

• The moment he realizes? Sparring with you, when you pin him down and smirk.

• “Oh, I’m completely in love with them.”

• He acts normal but becomes a little more protective, a little more soft-spoken around you.

• His tail wags when you’re near, and he hates that everyone notices.

• He confesses simply but sincerely—probably under the stars or after training.

• “I love you. I don’t need anything back, I just wanted you to know.”

Mezo Shoji

• Realizes it when he starts looking forward to your voice every day.

• He’s always been reserved, but you make him feel safe.

• The moment he knows? You tell him he’s beautiful, and he nearly chokes on air.

• “They… they actually see me.”

• His confession is quiet but meaningful—probably late at night when you’re alone.

• “You’re the only one who makes me feel like this. I think… no, I know I love you.”

Rikido Sato

• He realizes he’s in love while baking—he catches himself making extra portions just for you, even when you’re not around.

• One day, you sneak into the kitchen to help, and he watches you struggle with frosting a cupcake.

• Instead of laughing, he just smiles fondly and thinks, “I want to do this with them forever.”

• The moment it really clicks is when you try his baking and get so excited, giving him the biggest grin.

• His heart pounds, and suddenly, the sweetest thing in the room isn’t the cake.

• Becomes super flustered around you after that, fumbling with ingredients and spacing out.

• His confession is adorably shy, probably over a homemade dessert.

• “I, uh… I made this for you. And also, I think I love you.”

Koji Koda

• He falls slowly but deeply, and it takes a while for him to understand his feelings.

• He realizes it when he notices the way animals react to you—his rabbits love you, birds always fly near, and even skittish animals trust you.

• One day, you rescue a tiny injured bird, and as he watches you care for it so gently, his heart swells.

• “They’re so kind… I never want to leave their side.”

• The next time you smile at him, his whole face turns red, and he gets so nervous he forgets how to talk.

• Starts getting extra shy around you, but his actions speak louder—always carrying things for you, making sure you’re safe, sitting near you quietly.

• His confession is soft but heartfelt, maybe while watching the sunset with you.

• “I… I think I love you. You make my world so much brighter.”

[burytheruby]

S W E E T N E S S

𐬺𐬽𐬾❤︎︎𐬾𐬽𐬺

IN which your dear husband returns home after a long, long week away from you.

OR: Simon never goes a Valentine's Day without you.

WOOHOO VALENTINES SPECIAL!!!

MINORS Do NOT Interact.

Warnings: fem! wife! reader, ooc, canon divergent, implied smut, nothing else just sweet fluff. WC: 1146

English is my second language.

a cold hearted bastard, is what he gets called by the man below him, the one with the muzzle of the gun firmly against his temple; he gets called heartless and stoic by the recruits around base when he yells at them to train harder and not be absolute bloody muppets; he calls himself callous and brutal when he's out in the field fighting for his life, crawling his way back home to you.

with you he's none of those things, he's not a bastard—well, not in a way to hurt you. he's a bastard when he grins down at you, standing over six feet with your favorite cup over his head. he's heartless when he doesn't let you put your cold feet against his own with a grunt of annoyance and fondness. he's brutal when he's deep inside of you, holding your ankles up as he sets an unforgiving pace to let out the stress of a mission gone wrong.

but he's also soft, gentle as best as a burly man like him can be. soft kisses to your temple every morning and every night that he's home, spinning you around the living room with a smile on late evenings with your favorite music on, hugging you from behind and resting his face on the crook of your neck with soft nips at your supple skin. he's soft when washing your body his calloused hands working through your hair with practiced ease, mumbling sorry's for being too rough with you and leaving a little too many marks over your body.

those are Simon's favorite memories to reminisce on during times like these, miles away from you with a shoulder injury and a snappy Johnny muttering nonsense in Scots language. "English, MacTavish." Ghost grunted, yet his eyes were distant. he missed you, simple as that. Johnny took notice of that, and unfortunately, he isn't known for keeping his mouth shut. "aye, L.T., thinkin'o yer missus?" that only earned him a cold side glare from Ghost, but it was Simon who spoke, the man who came back home to you instead of the big bad lieutenant.

"she..." a pause, and for a moment Johnny swore a flicker of vulnerability escaped Simon. it was short-lived, soon the stoic expression returned to his dark eyes. "focus on the mission, Johnny." it was all he said as he shook his head, sitting up from the cramped space of the safe house's bathroom. "so we can go home."

𐬺𐬽𐬾❤︎︎𐬾𐬽𐬺

your soft hums were the only sound in the silent living room, laying on the couch with a blanket draped over you and a cup of your favorite beverage on the coffee table. with a book on hand and the soft, warm glow of the tiny lamp (that you asked Simon to buy it off a sketchy vendor) illuminating the words on the pages and the features of your exhausted face. yet you couldn't sleep, not when the clock ticked almost silently on your wall, the hour currently set in the darkest of the night. you couldn't sleep now that it was Friday and also Valentine's, and you hadn't heard from Simon since the day he left a week ago.

but your book slips from your fingers, falling face down onto the floor and you know that once you're back into consciousness you'll grieve the crumpled pages. for now, those thoughts are drowned, buried along with other thoughts and concerns.

the rhythmic thumping against your ear and the sudden warmth engulfs you like an embrace, the familiar scent of Simon's clothes filling your nostrils and bringing you that needed comfort you crave when he's away. but you were sleeping in the living room, weren't you? when your vision returns, with your eyes fluttering open and the cramp of your arm bent in a weird way that only happens while sleeping cuddled up with Simon, you knew

there he was, his balaclava discarded on the coffee table, the frown of his brows permanently etched on his features, and his tattooed arm thrown around your waist, unconsciously pulling you impossibly closer with a low hum. you tried to shift under his weight, barely freeing your crushed arm from his bear-like grip. "Simon," he hummed again, though you doubted he actually heard you.

your hand cupped his jaw, feeling the growing stubble he had grown during that week pricking at your fingertips when you pressed against their growth. "sweetness," his voice caught your attention, glancing down to find his eyes already on you, half lidded and still groggy from sleep, yet always on you. "darling, me dear," he continued, making you smile and roll your eyes playfully when he rolled to be on top of you. "happy Valentines, love." he said, your eyes widened when you realized it was indeed still Friday.

"I've got ya favorite flowers, an' a souvenir, hm..." he was falling asleep again, you could tell by the subtle way his muscles relaxed. "let's go out for dinner, yeah? an' we can finish that bloody show, an' go to the new market." you knew he meant every idea, and he would fulfill them—hell, he'd swim the English Channel if you asked him to.

"Simon," you caught his attention, and for a moment he lost his breath. you were gorgeous with your hair tousled, the slight redness of your cheeks from being too warm under him and the blankets, and even the tiny frown you seemed to wake up with because you disliked early mornings. everything about you is perfect. "don't got to do all that, dear, as long as you come back home to me, we've got time."

the old Simon, and even the Lieutenant Ghost, would make fun of current Simon for going so soft over a wee thing such as yourself. he wouldn't admit it out loud but damn it he loved everything about you. he loved the way your fingers outlined his sore back as you reprimanded him over the bloody shoulder injury you noticed immediately. he loved the tiny kiss to his cheek, the "missed ya's" and "love ya's" from both of you.

his lips found yours, effectively silencing you. your lips, so soft against his own slightly chapped lips, brought him the comfort he didn't realize he craved like a starved man. his hands found their way under your—his shirt, squeezing your hips and roaming up and down the warm sides of your body. the sound of your laughter when he touched that sensitive spot near your ribs made his heart flutter, and as he always did with you, he smiled. a genuine smile filled with tenderness for you, a look of affection even when he squeezed you under his weight and you squealed in surrender.

a heart that belonged to you, coming back home was everything he needed to fix that heart of his.

𐬺𐬽𐬾❤︎︎𐬾𐬽𐬺

happy valentines everyone 🩷

[starkwlkr]

just need to let old man logan rest his head on some tits after a long day of getting his ass handed to him🙏🏽

it’s been a long day | old man logan

an: back at it again with the old man logan fics 😩

The door creaked open, and Logan stepped inside, bloodied knuckles aching, the sting of fresh bruises settling into his ribs. He kicked off his boots with a weary grunt, wincing at the tight pull in his shoulder. Another long night. Another fight. Just some punks trying to take his goddamn car—his car. Like he was just gonna let them.

His coat hit the floor, and he dragged himself to the bathroom, splashing cold water on his face. The reflection staring back at him was the same as always—tired eyes, grizzled beard, streaks of blood smeared across his jawline. He cleaned up as best he could, wiping away the worst of it, then shuffled down the dim hallway, exhaustion weighing on him like lead.

You were already asleep when he got to the bedroom, curled up under the sheets, your slow, steady breaths the only thing in the quiet room. The sight of you—peaceful, warm—made something deep in his chest unclench. He didn’t want to wake you. He really didn’t. But he needed you.

With a low sigh, he climbed into bed and shifted closer, pressing his face against your chest, his weight settling over her as he rested his head between your breasts. You stirred, murmuring something soft and sleepy, your fingers instinctively threading through his silver hair.

“Logan?” You whispered. Even in the dark, you could tell he was in a bad shape.

“It’s been a long day,” he muttered, his voice sounding rough and worn.

Your hands moved gently, smoothing over his scalp, fingertips tracing slow, soothing lines. He exhaled against your skin, tension slowly ebbing away under your touch.

“You’re hurt,” you continue whispering, pressing a light kiss to the top of his head. “Let me take care of your wounds.”

“Don’t move. Stay,” He mumbled. He was far too comfortable in his current position. And he for sure wasn’t going to let you clean his wounds, he could do that himself in the morning. Right now, all he wanted was to be in bed with you. “I’m . . Okay.” He could feel himself getting sleepier by the second.

You kept running your fingers through his hair, slow and rhythmic, the way you knew calmed him. "Go to sleep, Logan. I’ve got you."

That night, Logan slept so peacefully, he swore you had magic that made him sleep so well. Whatever it was, it made him look forward to sleeping each night.

[aspenmissing]

Okay. This one is specific and hyper indulgent. This past week (last Friday to today) I've worked 70 something hours. With two fourteen hour days back to back on days lol

Could we have some sweetness from Arcane boys for an overworked s/o who's in healthcare (working with folks with intellectual disabilities. If you don't want to get that specific I don't blame you, and a generic 'medic' of sorts would be fine, too)

ʀᴇꜱᴛ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴇᴀʀʏ

ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴠɪᴋ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ᴄʟᴀɢɢᴏʀ || ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ/ᴄᴏᴍꜰᴏʀᴛ/ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ-ɪꜱʜ || 3714 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ || ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ʙᴜʀɴᴏᴜᴛ, ᴏᴠᴇʀᴡᴏʀᴋɪɴɢ, ɴᴇᴀʀ ꜰᴀɪɴᴛɪɴɢ

ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ ᴀɴꜱᴡᴇʀ: ʏᴀʀɴ! ᴍʏ ᴅᴇᴀʀ, ʏᴏᴜ ʙᴇᴛᴛᴇʀ ʙᴇ ɢᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ʀᴇꜱᴛ ᴡʜᴇɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀɴ! ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴇꜱᴇʀᴠᴇ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏ ᴏᴜɴᴄᴇ ᴏꜰ ʀᴇꜱᴛ, ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴄᴀɴ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴡʜᴀᴛ ʙʀɪɴɢ ᴄᴏᴍꜰᴏʀᴛ ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴍʏ ʟᴏᴠᴇ <3

ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ᴄʟᴀɢɢᴏʀ

JAYCE

Y/N had always been the kind of person who pushed through. She had to be. Working in healthcare, caring for those with intellectual disabilities, was more than a job—it was a calling. But lately, it felt like the weight of the world had settled on her shoulders, refusing to budge.

Long shifts bled into sleepless nights, and exhaustion settled into her bones like a second skin. She barely had time to eat, let alone rest, and Jayce had noticed. How could he not? The dark circles under her eyes, the way her hands trembled when she tried to hold a pen, the distant look in her gaze when she thought no one was watching—it all worried him.

Jayce had never been one to sit idly by when someone he loved was hurting. And he loved her. He loved her in ways he couldn't put into words, but if there was one thing he knew for certain, it was this—he wasn’t going to let her burn herself out.

So when she stumbled through the door after another grueling shift, her coat barely making it onto the hook before she collapsed onto the couch, Jayce knew he had to intervene.

Y/N groaned softly, rubbing her temples as she lay sprawled across the cushions. Her entire body felt like lead. Just the thought of moving again made her want to cry.

Jayce crouched beside her, his warm hand brushing against her cheek. "Y/N," he murmured, his voice filled with concern.

She hummed in response, her eyes fluttering open just enough to meet his gaze. The sight of him, so soft and worried, made her chest ache.

"Have you eaten today?" he asked, his voice soft but firm.

She hesitated. That was answer enough.

Jayce sighed, shaking his head. "You can’t keep doing this to yourself."

She let out a tired laugh. "It’s fine, Jayce. I just need a little—" A yawn interrupted her words. "—a little rest."

"No," he said gently but firmly. "You need a break. A real one. Not just a ten-minute nap before you push yourself into another shift."

She closed her eyes, exhaling slowly. "I don’t have time for a break."

"You don’t have time not to take care of yourself," he countered, his thumb brushing over her cheek. His touch was grounding, but it also made the guilt rise in her chest. "What if you get sick? What if you collapse in the middle of your shift?"

"They need me," she whispered.

Jayce’s jaw clenched, his expression softening even more as he leaned in closer. "And I need you," he said, voice barely above a breath. "You take care of everyone else, but who's taking care of you?"

She swallowed hard, staring at him like she wasn’t sure how to answer that. Because the truth was—she hadn’t thought about it.

Jayce ran a hand through his hair, exhaling slowly before standing up. He didn’t give her room to argue as he gently took her hand, coaxing her up from the couch. "Come on," he said, his voice softer now. "Let’s go to bed. You can sleep in tomorrow, and I’m making you breakfast. No arguing."

"Jayce, I can’t just—"

"Yes, you can," he interrupted, unwavering. "You deserve rest. You deserve to be taken care of too."

Her resolve wavered. Maybe it was the exhaustion, or maybe it was the warmth of his hand wrapped around hers, but she let him pull her into his embrace.

She melted against him, burying her face in his chest as he held her close. His arms were strong, steady, the kind of warmth that made her feel safe. He pressed a lingering kiss to the top of her head, and for the first time in what felt like weeks, she let herself breathe.

VIKTOR

The apartment was dimly lit, the soft glow of a single lamp casting long shadows against the walls. Y/N barely had the energy to remove her coat as she stepped inside, her shoulders slumping under the weight of exhaustion. Her limbs felt like lead, her mind hazy from another grueling shift. Healthcare was rewarding, but it was also relentless. The long hours, the emotional toll of caring for individuals with intellectual disabilities, the paperwork—there was never enough time, and yet, she pushed through.

The soft clink of metal against the wooden floor echoed through the quiet space, pulling her from her thoughts. Viktor stood at the end of the hall, his cane in hand, concern evident in his golden eyes. He didn't say a word at first, simply watching her as if assessing the full extent of her weariness.

“You’re home late,” he finally murmured, stepping forward with a slight limp. “Again.”

Y/N let out a breathy chuckle, though it lacked any real amusement. “Yeah. I know.”

She turned to hang her coat, but before she could, Viktor gently reached for her wrist, his touch featherlight yet firm. “Come sit,” he said softly, guiding her toward the couch. He was careful, mindful of the way her body sagged with exhaustion.

She didn’t resist. She couldn’t. The moment she settled onto the cushions, the weight of the day threatened to pull her under completely. Viktor knelt beside her, his cane resting against the couch, his hands finding hers. He traced slow, deliberate circles against her palm, grounding her.

“You do too much,” he whispered. It wasn’t an accusation, merely an observation, spoken with the quiet concern of someone who knew her far too well.

“I have to,” Y/N replied, her voice barely above a whisper. “They need me.”

“And I don’t?” Viktor tilted his head, lips twitching with something unreadable. “Because I do. More than you know.”

Her breath hitched at the sincerity in his tone. Guilt gnawed at her edges, but before she could argue, Viktor lifted her hand to his lips, pressing a kiss against her knuckles.

“I am proud of you,” he admitted, his voice raw with emotion. “You have the heart of a saint, but even saints must rest.”

A lump formed in her throat. “Viktor, I—”

“Shh.” He shook his head, reaching up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Let me take care of you tonight.”

For the first time in weeks, Y/N allowed herself to let go. She melted against Viktor as he guided her to lie down, resting her head in his lap as his fingers threaded gently through her hair. The steady rhythm of his touch, the warmth of his presence—it was enough to quiet the storm inside her, if only for a little while.

“You can’t keep going like this.” Viktor murmured, his brow furrowing slightly as he gazed down at her. He brushed his fingers gently over her cheek, concern laced in every touch.

Y/N exhaled, closing her eyes for a moment. “I don’t have a choice,” she muttered. “They need me.”

Viktor shook his head. “And I need you too,” he said, his voice gentle but firm. “I see what this is doing to you. Let me help.”

Her breath hitched, and she felt Viktor’s fingers tighten around hers. She wasn’t alone. She had him. And maybe—just maybe—she could lean on him, if only for a little while.

JAYVIK

The apartment was dark when Y/N stepped inside, the door clicking shut behind her. It was late—too late—and exhaustion pressed against her bones like a vice. She exhaled a deep breath, rubbing at her temples as she toed off her shoes. The day had been long, draining, and thankless. She loved her job, truly, but some nights, it took everything out of her.

Her body moved on autopilot as she drifted into the kitchen, her fingers fumbling with the fridge handle. Food. Water. She needed something, anything to keep her from collapsing into bed on an empty stomach. But her hands shook, her limbs sluggish as she reached for a glass from the cupboard. She barely registered the way her grip faltered before—

Crash.

The sound of shattering glass rang through the apartment, snapping her out of her daze. Y/N blinked down at the mess, the broken shards scattered across the floor, twinkling under the dim light. Her heart thudded in her chest as frustration burned behind her tired eyes. She was too exhausted for this.

Footsteps—quick, concerned—echoed from down the hall. Viktor appeared first, his cane tapping softly against the floor as he approached, eyes wide with worry. Jayce followed close behind, his broad form shadowing the doorway.

“Drahá, what happened?” Viktor’s voice was thick with concern, his accent wrapping around the words as he immediately stepped forward. (Dear)

“Are you okay?” Jayce asked, already reaching for the broom in the corner.

Y/N let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. “I—yeah. Just dropped a glass,” she mumbled, but her voice wavered, betraying her.

Viktor’s sharp gaze flickered over her, taking in the slump of her shoulders, the exhaustion in her eyes, the way she was barely keeping herself upright. He sighed, setting his cane aside carefully before placing his hands on her waist, grounding her. “You should be resting, not cleaning up broken glass at this hour.”

Jayce knelt down, sweeping up the mess without hesitation. “You’ve been overworking yourself again, haven’t you?” His tone wasn’t accusatory—just worried, just soft.

Y/N swallowed, guilt curling in her stomach. “I had to stay late. Some of my clients needed extra care today.”

Jayce huffed out a breath. “That’s always the case, isn’t it?” But there was no anger in his voice, only gentle exasperation. He stood, dumping the glass into the bin before turning back to her. “Come on, let us take care of you for once.”

Viktor tugged her closer, pressing a feather-light kiss to her temple. “Sit. I’ll make you something to eat.”

“You should be resting too,” she murmured, leaning into him despite herself.

He chuckled, a quiet, warm sound. “Ah, but I am stubborn. And you, lásko, are exhausted.” (Love)

Jayce wrapped an arm around both of them, his warmth seeping into her bones. “He’s right. You take care of everyone else—let us take care of you.”

Y/N wanted to argue, to insist she was fine. But her body betrayed her, leaning into them, melting against their touch. She sighed, finally letting the weight of the day slip from her shoulders. “Okay,” she whispered.

Viktor pressed another kiss to her hair before pulling away to start cooking. Jayce guided her to the couch, settling beside her, his hand never leaving hers.

VANDER

The streets of Zaun were quiet at this hour, the dim glow of the undercity’s lights casting long shadows as Y/N made her way back to the Last Drop. Her feet ached, her limbs felt heavy, and exhaustion settled deep into her bones, but she pressed on. She always did. The job was grueling, demanding, but she couldn’t turn away from the people who needed her—those who relied on her care, on her patience, on her unwavering presence.

By the time she reached the familiar door of the bar, the front was already closed up for the night. She slipped inside, careful not to make a sound as she locked it behind her and made her way toward the living area. The soft sound of Vi’s breathing, the occasional sleepy murmur from Powder, and the quiet shifting of Mylo and Claggor let her know that the kids were all safe and asleep.

Relief should have settled in her chest, but instead, the weight of the day threatened to crush her. Her legs barely carried her to the couch before she sank down onto it, head in her hands as she tried to steady herself.

Breathe in. Hold. Breathe out.

It didn’t help.

Her vision blurred as hot tears slipped down her cheeks, silent at first, then shaking sobs wracked her frame. She had been holding it in for so long—every frustration, every overwhelming moment, every pang of guilt for feeling like she wasn’t doing enough.

She didn’t even notice the soft creak of floorboards until a warm, familiar presence settled beside her. Strong arms wrapped around her, pulling her close, and the scent of smoke and leather surrounded her.

“Y/N,” Vander’s voice was rough with sleep, gentle with concern. “What’s wrong, love?”

She couldn’t answer, not at first. She just buried her face against his chest, hands clutching at his shirt as if he was the only thing keeping her from shattering completely. And maybe he was.

He didn’t rush her, didn’t push for words. He simply held her, one hand stroking slow, soothing circles on her back while the other cradled the back of her head.

“You’re workin’ yourself too hard again,” he murmured after a long silence, pressing a kiss to her temple. “You can’t keep doin’ this to yourself.”

She shook her head against him. “They need me, Vander,” she whispered, voice raw. “I can’t just stop.”

“They need you, yeah. But so do I. So do the kids.” He pulled back just enough to cup her face, wiping away the tears with his calloused thumbs. “And you can’t help anyone if you run yourself into the ground.”

She let out a shuddering breath, her body finally beginning to relax against him. She knew he was right, even if the guilt still gnawed at her. But in this moment, with his arms wrapped around her, she allowed herself to let go—just for tonight.

“C’mere,” Vander murmured, shifting so he could pull her fully onto his lap, tucking her against him like she was something precious. “Rest, love. I got you.”

And for the first time in what felt like forever, she allowed herself to believe it.

SILCO

The dim glow of the flickering lamp cast long shadows across Silco’s office, illuminating the stacks of paperwork that awaited his attention. He sighed, rolling his sleeves up as he stepped inside, feeling the familiar weight of exhaustion settle onto his shoulders. But the moment he did, his sharp gaze landed on the worn couch tucked into the corner of the room. There, curled up in exhaustion, was Y/N.

His footsteps softened as he approached, his chest tightening at the sight of her. Her uniform was slightly disheveled, the fabric creased from a day spent tirelessly tending to others. The faint scent of antiseptic clung to her, mingling with the natural warmth of her skin. A clipboard lay discarded beside her, barely hanging onto the couch, a sign that she had likely intended to work but succumbed to exhaustion before she could even begin. The dark circles beneath her eyes, the way her body seemed so small, curled up against the armrest—it all painted a picture of just how hard she had been pushing herself. His jaw tightened, irritation prickling at the back of his mind—not at her, but at the cruel reality that forced her into such relentless dedication.

Silco crouched beside her, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face with the backs of his fingers. She was always so strong, so unwavering, yet here she was, fragile in her fatigue. Y/N stirred slightly but didn’t wake, only letting out a small sigh as she unconsciously shifted toward his touch. The sight of her like this made something in his chest ache in a way he rarely allowed himself to feel.

“Why are you here?” he murmured, more to himself than to her. He had expected to find her at home, asleep in their bed, not here—drained and vulnerable, asleep in his office like some exhausted soldier who never knew when to rest.

Y/N’s eyes fluttered open at the sound of his voice. She blinked up at him sleepily, taking in the concern that lingered in the hard lines of his face. Her lips parted, voice hoarse from sleep, “Didn’t wanna wake you.”

Silco exhaled sharply, his expression shifting into something unreadable. “You could have.”

She gave a small, tired smile. “You work too much already… thought I’d let you rest.”

Silco shook his head, taking a seat on the couch beside her. He placed a hand on her back, rubbing small, slow circles as he let out a rare sigh of frustration—not at her, but at the situation. At how much she gave to others, so much so that there was nothing left for herself. He had seen it time and time again—the way she poured every ounce of herself into her work, refusing to acknowledge the toll it took on her.

“You push yourself too hard,” he muttered.

Y/N let out a breath of amusement, her fingers weakly grasping at the fabric of his sleeve. “Takes one to know one.”

His lips twitched, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he shifted until he was settled against the couch, pulling her gently into his arms. Y/N sighed as she melted into his warmth, tucking her head beneath his chin.

Silco’s hand continued its slow movements on her back, his fingers tracing absentminded patterns. He could feel the steady rise and fall of her breath against him, her weight pressing into his side in a way that felt so utterly human. He was a man who built walls, who allowed few people close enough to see past his defences—but she was different. She had a way of slipping past his barriers without effort, of settling into the spaces he thought had long since been abandoned.

“You need rest,” he murmured against her hair, his voice softer now.

“Mm. Just for a little while.”

Silco didn’t argue, simply holding her as the weight of the day finally pulled her back into sleep. His own exhaustion crept up on him, settling behind his eyes. The flickering lamp cast a warm, golden glow over them, illuminating the rare moment of peace they shared. And for the first time that evening, he let his own eyes close as well, allowing himself to rest alongside her, if only for a little while.

CLAGGOR (AU)

Y/N sat at the kitchen table in their small apartment, staring at the glowing papers that had been scattered in front of her. The documents, full of notes and reminders, reflected the exhaustion that had been taking over her lately. Another long day at the healthcare clinic, filled with paperwork and endless tasks. People needing attention, patients needing guidance. She had been working for hours already, but there was no end in sight. The piles were only getting bigger, a mountain that seemed impossible to climb.

Her shoulders ached from the weight of the work, and her head throbbed with the onset of a headache she couldn’t seem to shake. Every day, it was the same—overworked, pushing herself to do it all because she couldn’t bear to leave anyone behind. But tonight… Tonight, she wasn’t sure if she could keep going.

“Y/N?” The familiar voice of Claggor echoed from the living room. His deep voice was tinged with concern, his usual carefree nature now clouded by the realization that something was off.

“I’m fine,” she replied, her voice faint and tired, though she wasn’t sure if she truly believed the words herself. She heard him pause before he entered the room, his footsteps slow and deliberate.

Claggor stood in the doorway, his gaze soft as it landed on her hunched figure. His hand rested gently on the frame as he leaned against it, studying her. Y/N didn’t meet his eyes, keeping her focus on the work before her.

“You’re not fine,” he murmured, stepping closer. “You’ve been at this for days, haven’t you? Don’t lie to me.”

Y/N sighed, pushing the papers aside as she finally looked up at him. “Claggor, you don’t understand. There’s so much to do. The people I work with, they need me, and if I don’t give them everything I’ve got, who will? I don’t want to let anyone down.”

Claggor's expression softened, his lips curling into a small, knowing smile. He sat down beside her, his large hand gently brushing the back of hers. “Y/N,” he said softly, “you’re one of the strongest people I know. But even the strongest need a break sometimes.”

“I don’t know how to stop,” she whispered, her voice cracking with exhaustion. “I don’t know how to rest when there’s so much to do.”

He leaned in closer, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into the warmth of his chest. His comforting embrace felt like a safe haven from the storm inside her. “You don’t have to do everything alone. You don’t have to push yourself past your limits. I’m here for you.”

Y/N closed her eyes, leaning into him, letting his words sink into her. “I’m just so tired, Claggor. I don’t know if I can keep going like this.”

“You don’t have to keep going like this, love,” he said, his voice steady and comforting. “You’ve already done so much. Let me help you. We can face it together.”

He reached over, pulling the papers away from the table and tossing them aside. “For tonight, you don’t need to worry about them. I’ve got you.” He brushed his fingers against her cheek, wiping away a tear that had escaped without her noticing.

Y/N turned her head, her forehead resting against his shoulder as she let out a soft, relieved sigh. “Thank you,” she whispered, her body sinking into his embrace as if it had been starved for this kind of care.

Claggor pressed a kiss to her forehead, his arms tightening around her as he whispered, “You’re my everything, Y/N. Rest now. We’ll face tomorrow together, and we’ll take it one step at a time. But tonight, just let yourself be here with me.”

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Y/N allowed herself to just be. With Claggor’s arms around her, she didn’t have to be anything more than what she was—a woman in love, in need of care, in need of rest.

And for the first time in days, she finally allowed herself to sleep, knowing that she didn’t have to carry the weight of the world alone anymore.

[s4kura-tr3]

Happy Valentine’s Day!

(A little angst in Sugurus part..)

Gojo - The city was dusted with snow, the streets lined with pink and red decorations that shimmered beneath the streetlights. Valentine’s Day in Tokyo was always a little extra — heart-shaped balloons tied to storefronts, couples walking hand in hand, and cafes boasting limited-edition desserts.

You weren’t sure why you expected today to feel like just another Wednesday. Not with Gojo Satoru as your boyfriend.

Your phone buzzed right as you stepped into your apartment.

Satoru: Come to the rooftop. Now. No questions.

You raised an eyebrow but couldn’t fight the small smile that tugged at your lips. With Gojo, surprises were inevitable. You grabbed your coat and made your way up the stairs, pushing open the door to the rooftop.

The sight took your breath away.

Strings of fairy lights crisscrossed overhead, casting a soft golden glow over a small table set with desserts and a thermos of what you assumed was hot chocolate. A thick blanket was spread out beside the table, lined with cushions. The city skyline glittered in the distance like scattered diamonds.

And there, standing with his back to you, was Satoru. He turned when he heard you step forward, that trademark grin appearing as soon as his eyes met yours. His blindfold was gone tonight, leaving his vibrant blue eyes on full display.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, sweetheart,” he said, spreading his arms dramatically. “Aren’t I the most romantic boyfriend ever?”

You chuckled and walked over to him. “I mean…you did set the bar high last year with the impromptu trip to Okinawa.”

“True,” he mused. “But this year, I thought — why travel when we can just…stay cozy here?”

He pulled you into his arms, pressing a kiss to your forehead. You sank into him, warmth spreading through you despite the chilly February air.

“You really did all this?” you asked, glancing around the rooftop setup.

“Of course! Who else would go this over-the-top for you?” His voice was teasing, but there was a softness in his eyes that gave him away. “I wanted tonight to be about us. No curses, no missions, no interruptions.”

Your heart gave a little flutter. Gojo wasn’t always the best with words when it came to feelings — but when he showed it, it hit like a freight train.

“Come on,” he said, tugging you toward the blanket. “I brought your favorite pastries from that place you love.”

“You went all the way across town for those?”

“For you? Always.”

You sat together, sharing bites of pastries and sipping hot chocolate as the night unfolded. Gojo kept making ridiculous jokes, most of which made you groan but left you laughing anyway. His hand never left yours, thumb brushing over your knuckles absentmindedly.

As the night wore on, he grew quieter. You turned to find him gazing at you with an expression you didn’t see often — vulnerable, unguarded.

“Hey,” you whispered. “What’s that look for?”

He hesitated, then gave you a crooked smile. “Just thinking about how lucky I am.”

Your chest tightened. You squeezed his hand. “Me too, Satoru.”

Geto - The February air was crisp, the scent of snow lingering despite the clear sky. Tokyo streets were alive with Valentine’s Day cheer — couples strolling beneath pink banners, flower shops bustling with last-minute customers, and cafés offering heart-shaped treats in every window.

But the warmth of the city didn’t quite reach you tonight.

You sat by the window of your apartment, absently tracing patterns on the frosty glass. Your phone sat on the table beside you, the screen dark except for the faint reflection of your own face.

You shouldn’t have expected a message.

Not today. Not from him.

The familiar ache stirred in your chest. It was easier most days, the distance between you and Suguru Geto a wound you learned to live with. But today? When the world seemed to revolve around love and companionship? It hurt.

You squeezed your eyes shut and leaned your forehead against the window.

Stop waiting, you told yourself. He’s not coming back.

But then your phone buzzed. Once. Twice.

Your heart lurched as you snatched it up.

Unknown Number: Look outside.

Your breath caught. The number wasn’t saved, but you knew who it was. Even after all this time, you’d never forgotten the pattern of his messages — the deliberate wording, the weight behind so few words.

You stood slowly, heart racing as you stepped to the window. Outside, beneath the streetlamp across from your building, stood a figure dressed in black. His long, dark hair was half-pulled back, the rest cascading over his shoulders. Even from here, you could feel the weight of his gaze.

Suguru Geto.

Your knees went weak, and your breath hitched.

You shouldn’t go to him. You knew better. But your body moved on instinct — grabbing your coat and rushing out the door, heart beating louder than the sound of your footsteps down the stairs.

The cold night air hit your face as you pushed through the entrance and crossed the street. He didn’t move until you were standing in front of him.

“You’re really here,” you whispered.

“I shouldn’t be,” he said softly. His voice was deeper than you remembered, but it still held that same calm, steady rhythm. “But…I couldn’t stay away today.”

His eyes softened as they met yours, the faintest crack in the mask he wore now. You searched his face, noting the faint scars, the exhaustion in his features. He looked older. Colder. But beneath that? The man you once loved was still there.

“Why now?” you asked, voice trembling.

He hesitated. “Because it’s Valentine’s Day. And no matter how far I go…you’re still the one I think of today.”

Tears burned in your eyes, and you clenched your jaw to hold them back. “Suguru…you left. You chose—”

“I know.” His expression tightened with guilt. “And I still believe in what I chose. But that doesn’t mean I stopped—” He cut himself off, exhaling shakily. “It doesn’t mean I stopped missing you.”

The cold wind swirled between you.

You should walk away. You should tell him that missing you wasn’t enough to erase everything he’d done.

But your heart betrayed you.

You stepped forward and wrapped your arms around him. For a moment, he stood still, as though unsure if he was allowed this. Then his arms came around you, holding you tightly, like he was afraid you’d vanish if he let go.

“You shouldn’t be here,” you whispered against his chest.

“I know,” he murmured, voice cracking.

“And I shouldn’t be doing this.”

“I know that too.”

Neither of you moved. The world faded — the lights, the decorations, the laughter from passing couples. For one night, time stood still.

“Just tonight?” you asked.

His hand cradled the back of your head. “Just tonight.”

Valentine’s Day was supposed to be sweet, but with Suguru, it was always bittersweet.

Because tomorrow, he’d be gone again.

And you’d be left waiting for a ghost.

Nanami - February 14th had always felt like a manufactured holiday to Nanami Kento — an excuse for companies to push chocolates, flowers, and overpriced dinners. He wasn’t a cynic about love; he simply didn’t believe in grand gestures dictated by a calendar, he believed it should be an everyday thing.

But then he met you.

And now he found himself standing in the kitchen of your shared apartment, sleeves rolled up, tie loosened, meticulously arranging a plate of homemade chocolate-covered strawberries. Each one was dipped perfectly — because, of course, Nanami wouldn’t settle for uneven coatings — and sprinkled with just the right amount of crushed hazelnuts.

He glanced at the clock. 6:58 p.m. You’d be home any minute.

The apartment was quiet except for the faint jazz music playing from the speaker. A bottle of wine was already breathing on the counter, and dinner was simmering on the stove. Simple. Elegant. Thoughtful. Just like he knew you preferred.

The lock clicked, and he turned just as the door opened.

“Smells amazing in here,” you called as you stepped inside, cheeks pink from the cold. When your eyes landed on him — standing there in his crisp white shirt, apron still tied around his waist — your smile softened. “Did you…cook?”

“Of course,” he said, walking over to help you with your coat. His hands brushed against yours, warm and grounding. “It’s Valentine’s Day.”

“You hate Valentine’s Day.”

“I dislike the commercial aspect,” he corrected. “I never said I dislike making you happy.”

Your heart melted a little. Nanami wasn’t a man of grand speeches or showy declarations. His love lived in the details — the way he remembered how you liked your tea, the gentle hand on your back when you crossed the street, the soft “be careful” every time you left for work.

You stepped up on your toes and kissed him. His hands found your waist instinctively, pulling you closer. His lips, warm and deliberate, moved against yours with that same steady devotion he brought to everything he did.

When you pulled back, your heart was racing. “So…what’s for dinner, Mr. Romance?”

He arched a brow. “Homemade pasta with a cream sauce and seared salmon.”

Your mouth watered. “You made homemade pasta?”

Nanami gave a modest shrug. “It’s not difficult with the right tools.”

You laughed, slipping your hand into his and letting him lead you to the dining table, where candles flickered gently.

The meal was perfect, of course. Nanami didn’t know how to do anything halfway. As you finished the last bites, you leaned back in your chair with a content sigh.

“You really went all out,” you said softly.

Nanami reached across the table, taking your hand in his. His thumb traced absent circles on your skin. “I know I don’t always say it the way others might…but I need you to know how much you mean to me.”

Your throat tightened. “I do know.”

“I don’t need Valentine’s Day to remind me to appreciate you,” he continued, voice low and sure. “But I’ll use any excuse to make you smile like this.”

Tears prickled in your eyes. You squeezed his hand, heart full.

“Well,” you said, blinking them away with a teasing grin, “if this is what happens when you don’t care about Valentine’s Day…maybe I’ll have to start pushing for more holidays.”

Nanami chuckled — a soft, genuine sound that always made you feel like the luckiest person alive.

And when he kissed you again, slow and deliberate, with Nanami, every day felt like Valentine’s Day.

Toji - Valentine’s Day was just another day to Toji Fushiguro. Overpriced chocolates, corny decorations, couples trying too hard — none of it made sense to him. Love? Romance? He’d seen how easily both could crack and fall apart.

But then came you. And somehow, against all odds, you stuck around.

Which was probably why you were sitting on the couch that night, wearing your favorite hoodie, scrolling through your phone, while the clock ticked past 10 p.m. Your gaze flicked to the door every few minutes, even if you tried to pretend otherwise.

You weren’t one to make a big deal out of holidays, but…you’d hoped, just a little, that Toji might remember.

When the lock clicked and the door opened, you sat up. He stepped in with his usual swagger — black coat slung over his shoulders, hair damp from the light snowfall outside. His eyes landed on you immediately.

“Waitin’ for me?” he asked, voice low and teasing.

“No,” you said, maybe a little too quickly. “Just…watching TV.”

He hummed in response and kicked off his shoes. “That so?”

You turned back to the screen, determined not to let disappointment show. But then Toji’s hand appeared in your line of vision, holding a small, slightly crumpled brown paper bag.

“What’s this?” you asked, taking it cautiously.

“Open it.”

Inside the bag was a simple plastic container, the kind convenience stores use for pastries. Through the clear lid, you saw a strawberry shortcake — two layers of sponge cake with cream and fresh strawberries sandwiched in between. It was slightly smushed on one side, like he’d carried it under his arm for a while.

Your chest tightened. “You…got me cake?”

He shrugged, avoiding your gaze. “Figured you’d like it.”

You tried to bite back the grin tugging at your lips. “From that bakery I told you about?”

“Tch. What do I look like, a guy who stands in line for fancy desserts?” He flopped onto the couch beside you, throwing an arm over the backrest. “Nah, just grabbed it on the way here.”

But you noticed the faint red sticker on the container — the bakery logo you’d gushed about weeks ago. The one that was always packed.

You turned toward him, warmth blooming in your chest. “Toji…did you actually go out of your way to get me a Valentine’s Day cake?”

He groaned. “Don’t make it weird, sweetheart.”

“Too late.” You bit your lip, eyes glimmering. “This is…really sweet.”

He grunted, clearly uncomfortable with the compliment. “Yeah, yeah. Just eat the damn cake.”

You didn’t push him further. Instead, you stood, grabbed two forks, and plopped back down beside him. You handed him one and opened the container.

The first bite was soft, sweet, and just a little crooked from the journey here. “Mmm,” you said, closing your eyes. “Perfect.”

Toji watched you, his fork twirling idly between his fingers. “Good?”

“Very.” You held out a forkful for him. He leaned forward, taking it without hesitation. His lips closed around the fork, eyes narrowing thoughtfully as he chewed.

“Eh,” he said with a shrug. “Too sweet.”

You laughed. “You’re too grumpy.”

“Yeah? But you still like me.”

“Somehow.”

He set his fork down, watching you for a moment. Then, without warning, he tugged you into his lap. You squeaked as you landed against his chest, but his arms locked around you before you could move.

“Toji!”

“Hush.” He kissed your neck, the rough scrape of his stubble sending a shiver down your spine. “Only did this stupid Valentine’s thing for you, y’know.”

“I know,” you whispered, heart racing.

“Don’t expect this every year.”

“Of course not,” you teased. “Just every other year.”

He nipped at your ear in response, making you squeal. The cake sat forgotten on the table as Toji buried his face in your neck, holding you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered.

Valentine’s Day might not have been his thing, but for you? He’d put up with the sweetness — cake, cuddles, and all.

Sukuna - Valentine’s Day was laughable to Sukuna.

Love? Affection? Gifts wrapped in pretty ribbons and declarations whispered in the dark? Disgusting. Humans were so easily swayed by fleeting emotions, so eager to bend to each other’s will for the sake of something as trivial as romance.

Yet here he was. Sitting on the edge of your bed. Waiting for you.

The box of chocolates on the nightstand mocked him — heart-shaped, adorned with a delicate satin bow. He didn’t even know if you liked chocolates. He just knew that the cashier had smiled a little too sweetly at him when he bought them, and he’d had to resist the urge to rip her tongue out.

The things he did for you.

The door creaked open. “Sukuna?”

You stepped inside, cheeks pink from the cold, hair slightly mussed from the wind. Your eyes found his immediately — sharp and glowing even in the dim light.

“You’re here,” you said softly.

“Obviously.” He tilted his head, gaze raking over you. “Who else would be stupid enough to sit around waiting for you?”

You snorted, shrugging off your coat. “Nice to see you too, Your Highness.”

Sukuna watched you with a predator’s patience as you moved around the room, kicking off your shoes and tossing your bag onto the chair. You always did this — acted casual, like the King of Curses lounging in your bedroom was perfectly normal. Maybe it was, by now.

But tonight, he was restless. And he hated it.

“What’s with the face?” you asked, eyeing him.

His jaw tightened. “Tch. Nothing.”

Your eyes flicked to the nightstand. “Wait…what’s this?”

Sukuna didn’t respond as you picked up the box. The bow slipped between your fingers, and you looked at him with wide eyes.

“You bought me chocolates?”

“Don’t read into it.”

“On Valentine’s Day?”

“Coincidence,” he muttered.

You bit your lip to contain your smile. “Uh-huh. Sure. The King of Curses went out and bought chocolates for a mortal on Valentine’s Day…by accident.”

His eye twitched. “Careful, little one.”

But your delight was contagious. You sat beside him, holding the box close like it was some priceless artifact. “Seriously, Sukuna…thank you. I didn’t think you’d—”

“Yeah, yeah,” he interrupted. “Don’t get sappy.”

Too late. You were already leaning into him, resting your head on his shoulder. His muscles went rigid at first — softness wasn’t something he welcomed — but then his arm settled around you, palm splaying over your hip possessively.

“You know,” you said after a moment, voice playful, “if you wanted to spend Valentine’s Day with me, you could’ve just said so.”

He scoffed. “I don’t want to spend it with you.”

“Oh?”

“You just…happen to be the only person I tolerate.” His fingers slid up your side, brushing the hem of your shirt. “And I had the night free.”

“Of course.” You tilted your head to look at him. “No other humans to torment?”

“Not tonight.” His gaze dropped to your lips. “But if you keep running your mouth, I might make an exception.”

“Mm. Terrifying.” You leaned up, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss to the corner of his mouth. His breath caught — just for a second — before his hand tangled in your hair, pulling you in for a rougher, deeper kiss.

When you finally pulled apart, your lips tingling, you whispered, “Happy Valentine’s Day, Sukuna.”

He smirked, thumb running over your lower lip. “You should be terrified that you’re mine.”

“Maybe,” you said, voice soft. “But I’m not.”

The chocolates sat forgotten as Sukuna kissed you again, harder this time — desperate to remind you, on this silly mortal holiday, that you belonged to him.

And maybe, just maybe, he belonged to you too.

Yuji - Yuji Itadori had never been great with romantic stuff. Sure, he could crack jokes, be a goofball, and brighten any room with his smile, but Valentine’s Day? That was a whole new level of pressure.

But this year was different. This year, he had you.

And Yuji Itadori was determined to make it special. “Okay, okay, wait,” Yuji muttered to himself, pacing his tiny apartment. “Flowers. Check. Chocolates. Check. Dinner reservations—” He glanced at the takeout containers on the counter. “Uh…sort of check.”

He ran a hand through his hair, the nerves starting to eat away at his confidence. He just wanted tonight to be perfect.

You deserved that.

The knock on his door made him jump. “Okay,” he whispered, straightening his sweater and taking a deep breath. “Cool. Calm. Romantic. Yeah, I got this.”

He opened the door, and there you stood — cheeks flushed from the cold, bundled in your favorite coat, smiling at him like he hung the stars.

“Hey,” you greeted, voice soft.

“Hey,” he said, a little breathless. “Wow. You…you look amazing.”

Your lips quirked up. “I’m literally wearing jeans and a sweater.”

“Yeah, but you make it look good.”

He stepped aside to let you in. The warm scent of takeout curry drifted through the room, along with the faint aroma of the candles he’d lit — all mismatched shapes and sizes, creating a cozy, slightly chaotic glow.

“Yuji,” you said, turning to him. “This is…so cute.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, cheeks pink. “Yeah? Not too much?”

“It’s perfect.”

He visibly relaxed. “Good. ’Cause, uh, I kinda went all out.”

He motioned toward the table, where a small bouquet of daisies sat in a glass jar. Next to it, a heart-shaped box of chocolates and two plates of steaming curry rice waited.

“Yuji,” you whispered. “You really didn’t have to do all this.”

“Yeah, but…I wanted to.” He shifted on his feet. “I mean, it’s Valentine’s Day. And you’re, like, the coolest person I know. And I…” His voice faltered. “I really like you.”

Your heart melted. “I really like you too.”

The tension in his shoulders eased, replaced by that signature grin. “Okay, cool. Awesome. Let’s eat before the rice gets all weird.”

Dinner was filled with laughter, teasing, and Yuji’s endless supply of goofy jokes. The curry was delicious, and the chocolates turned out to be your favorite kind — something he claimed was a lucky guess but had secretly researched for weeks.

Later, as the candles burned lower, you sat on the couch, leaning against him while he scrolled through movie options. His arm draped around your shoulders, his thumb absentmindedly tracing circles on your arm.

“So,” he said, voice soft, “was this, like…an okay Valentine’s Day?”

You tilted your head up to meet his gaze. “More than okay. It was perfect.”

His smile turned shy. “Good. ’Cause, uh…I kinda wanna make it a tradition. You know…if you want.”

You reached up, cupped his face, and kissed him — soft, sweet, and lingering. When you pulled back, his eyes were wide, lips parted in surprise.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “I’d like that.”

Yuji’s grin stretched wide as he pulled you into another kiss, this one filled with pure, unfiltered happiness.

Valentine’s Day might not have been his forte, but with you? He was pretty sure he’d nailed it.

Megumi - Megumi Fushiguro didn’t care about Valentine’s Day.

Or at least, that’s what he told himself. Every year, he watched people get swept up in the holiday — chocolates, flowers, declarations of love — and he thought it was all pointless. Why dedicate one day to something that should be shown every day?

But then he met you.

And suddenly, Valentine’s Day didn’t seem so ridiculous. The afternoon sun cast a pale, cold glow through the windows of Megumi’s apartment. He stood at the kitchen counter, scowling down at the small box in his hands. It was a simple gift — dark chocolates you liked and a handwritten note tucked beneath the lid.

Nothing fancy. Nothing loud. Just…something to show you that he cared.

He set the box down and rubbed the back of his neck. “This is stupid,” he muttered.

But when his phone buzzed with your On my way! text, his heart kicked into an anxious rhythm. Too late to back out now.

When you arrived, you were all smiles, cheeks pink from the cold. “Hey, Megumi.”

“Hey,” he said, stepping aside to let you in.

The warmth of his apartment was a welcome relief, and you sighed as you slipped off your coat. “Smells nice in here.”

“I…made tea,” he said, clearing his throat. “Thought it might help warm you up.”

“Aw,” you teased lightly. “Thoughtful as always.”

His ears burned at the compliment. “Yeah, well…it’s cold out.”

You followed him into the living room, where two mugs of tea waited on the table. You sat beside him on the couch and curled your legs underneath you, taking the warm cup with a grateful hum.

“So,” you said after a sip, “any big plans today?”

He shrugged. “Not really.”

“Right. Because you don’t care about Valentine’s Day.”

“I don’t,” he said quickly.

You gave him a knowing look but didn’t push. Megumi had always been a little awkward when it came to expressing emotions — but you’d learned to read the small gestures. The way he made you tea when it was cold. The way he always stood closest to you in crowds. The way he remembered your favorite foods without you ever having to remind him.

After a moment, his gaze flicked toward the table beside him. “Uh…I got you something,” he said, voice low.

Your eyebrows shot up. “Wait — seriously?”

He grabbed the box, hesitated, then handed it over without meeting your eyes. “It’s not a big deal. Just…open it.”

You carefully undid the ribbon and lifted the lid. Inside were neatly arranged chocolates and a small, folded note. Your chest tightened at the sight.

“Chocolates and a card?” you teased, though your voice was soft. “Megumi, you’re going all out.”

He groaned and rubbed his forehead. “Don’t make this weird.”

You unfolded the note and read his handwriting:

“I know Valentine’s Day is supposed to be about big, romantic gestures, but I think the little things matter more. Like how you make everything feel lighter, even when things are hard. I might not say it much, but…I’m really glad you’re here. Happy Valentine’s Day — Megumi.”

Your vision blurred for a moment, and you set the note down with a wobbly smile. “Megumi, this is…perfect.”

He shifted uncomfortably, face flushed. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You reached over and squeezed his hand. “I’m really glad I’m here too.”

He squeezed back, his thumb brushing yours. His eyes softened, tension melting from his shoulders.

“Good,” he said quietly.

The chocolates sat untouched for a while as you leaned into his side, your hand still held firmly in his.

Megumi Fushiguro didn’t need grand gestures or fancy gifts to show he cared. For him, love was quiet, steady, and honest.

And for you, that was more than enough.

[nakylvr]

— BACK TO ME

daniela avanzini x fem!reader

summary જ⁀➴ after an argument breaks out and hurtful things are thrown, you leave for a few days, and daniela realizes just how much she needs you

warnings/tags જ⁀➴ angst with happy ending, language, established relationship, dealer!dani au, arguments

now playing જ⁀➴ back to me by the rose

things had been straining recently. with tax season coming up you spent most of your days after work trying to figure out how to not get completely fucked over and get a ton of money taken out. you also got promoted at your job, which was both a blessing and a curse. more money was always a good thing, but your patience was already wearing thin when the argument started.

you had just gotten home, wanting nothing more than to relax when you realized daniela wasn't in the apartment. too tired, you shrug it off and lay down on the couch, still in your work clothes, not bothering to change. you ended up falling asleep faster than you anticipated.

when the front door opened, it was dark outside. you could hear it, but you couldn't find it in you to get up.

"yn?" daniela's voice is heard quietly. "what are you doing on the couch?"

you hum, opening your eyes groggily and looking up at her. "where were you?" you mumble.

"had to run out real quick," she answers. "come on, let's go to bed."

"for hours?" you say before you can think.

daniela's expression changes at your words, but you don't notice past the dark in the room. "i needed to do some stuff," she responds. "i'm sorry." she doesn't know why she's saying it. most likely out of fear that this conversation will spiral out of control after all the bullshit that happened earlier in the year. she doesn't want a fight right now, and she's trying to keep it from happening.

"who were you with?" you ask, slowly sitting up.

"minji," daniela answers truthfully. "she needed some help getting a gift for hanni, then she came with me for a deal that i had to do on the way back."

your eyebrows furrowed together, looking back at her. "you let her go along with you?" you inquired.

"yeah?" dani replies, but it comes out unsure. "i knew you were getting off work late and i didn't want to bother you."

"but you let minji go with you?" you press. "you told me i was the only one."

"well, yes. but minji's my close friend, i–"

"didn't see anything wrong with it?" you cut her off. "cause it looks a little weird when all your clients know me and then you show up with some other girl that's not me? let me guess, you saw keeho?"

"how did you–" daniela gets cut off again by you talking over her.

"he texted me," you tell her. "asking, and i quote 'who this random chick' is with you instead of me. so it's not just me thinking i'm crazy."

"i didn't say you were crazy," daniela quickly says, shaking her head. "baby, please, this isn't that serious. you know minji."

"but other people don't," you respond. "what if it wasn't keeho?"

"i-" daniela stops herself, taking a breath. "this is the only time i've brought someone other than you."

"but why?" you stand up from the couch, making daniela take a few steps backwards. "you're the one who tells me that you don't let anyone go because you don't want them to see, but minji is just a different story or something?"

"it's one time!" daniela says, her voice raising slightly. "why does it matter?"

"why does it matter?" you repeat. "you tell me, daniela. you tell me." you cross your arms over your chest.

daniela is quiet for a minute, trying to think of the right thing to say to not upset you more. "i know what you're thinking, but this isn't a big deal. i let her come along because it was keeho. nothing else, no other reason," she tells you. "i promise."

"not a big deal, you keep saying that," your voice turns sharp. "what's not a big deal? that i'm reasonably concerned when you're out hours past when i got back and tell me you were doing some stuff, helping minji get a gift for hanni, and do a deal? because those are multiple different answers."

"oh my god," daniela mumbles, looking around before back at you. "yn, seriously, it's nothing."

"give me your phone," you demand.

"what?" she looks at you confused.

"consider this a phone check. give it to me." you hold your hand out.

"you're serious?" daniela asks. when you don't answer, just stare at her, she pulls her phone out of her pocket and hands it to you. "jesus christ," she grumbles under her breath, crossing her arms over her chest.

looking through the recent messages, your fingers hover over one specifically, and when you glance up from the phone to look at daniela, she feels her heart drop to her stomach at the expression on your face.

"so what? you have clients wanting to get you shit for valentines day? is that the excuse you're going to give?" you say seriously, tilting your head to the side.

"what?" daniela lets out. "no one has–"

"what's this about then?" you hold the phone towards her, showing a thread of messages.

"that's jaehyun!" daniela exclaims, throwing her hands up in the air. "he's my friend!"

"and you know i don't like how close he is with you!" you retort, your voice raising. "every time we go to his place it's like i don't even exist! he's obviously hitting on you!"

"he literally isn't! he's gay!" daniela scoffs, shaking her head. "plus, he literally has a boyfriend!"

"well that didn't stop you the first time, did it?" the words come out faster than you could think.

"right," daniela scoffs again, nodding her head. "right, because it's always my fault, isn't it? i'm always the one fucking up, right?"

"yeah!" you nod. "you're the one who says you can pull anyone, and then you act like i'm fucking crazy when people are all over you and i don't like it! like it's not right for me to feel upset even though i'm your girlfriend!"

"i've never called you crazy! when have i once said that?!" daniela's voice starts getting louder, nearing the edge of yelling.

"but you look at me like it!" you end up yelling first. "like-like it's a problem that i get jealous! you're allowed to have your hands all over me when i'm with my friends when you're jealous but when you have three different girls who give you thousands of dollars each month all over you it's weird when i get defensive and jealous!? that's not fair, daniela!"

"so what? i'm supposed to just sit there while girls eye-fuck you or try to get all close?!" daniela retorts. "you don't even know! you're so fuckin' naive that you think everyone just wants to be friends!"

"naive? i'm naive?" you let out a laugh, shaking your head. "right, sorry for being nice enough to make friends who don't just want to fuck me for some shit!"

"they still want to fuck you!" daniela yells. "look at sophia! you ran to her when shit got hard and look what happened! who's telling me that you won't go run off to some other 'friend' of yours only for them to fuck you while you were still mine!"

you stop once sophia's name is spoken. daniela knew better than to bring her up after the events that happened, knowing how much you regretted your stupid decision and how bad you felt about it afterwards. but in the heat of the argument, the second the words leave daniela's mouth you're standing there in silence.

"you know what," you eventually speak up. "maybe i will."

"will what?" daniela asks, seemingly not realizing what she said and how you took it.

you shake your head, letting out a scoff. you toss her phone on the couch and walk into the bedroom, not saying another word.

"yn?" daniela sighs. "yn! what are you doing?"

a few minutes later you walk back out with a bag in your hands, making daniela's eyes go wide.

"what're you doing?" she asks.

"i'm going to jungwon's for the night," you answer simply. "or, the rest of the night, i guess."

"what?" daniela looks at you confused. "why?"

you stare at her with a deadpan expression, waiting to see if she'll notice what she said. when she clearly doesn't, you shake your head again. "because he's a friend who won't fuck me while i'm still yours. those are your words," you tell her before starting to walk to the front door.

your words make daniela realize what she said, and she immediately starts following after you to the door. "yn? yn, baby, don't be like this! i didn't mean to bring her up!"

"but you did." you swiftly turn around, causing her to abruptly stop. "you did even though we talked about it and you knew how fucked up i felt afterwards. but if this is what comes out of your mouth when we argue, then i know you're still pissed about it. so, i'm leaving for the night, or maybe a few days, i don't know." you shrug. "i know i fucked up with what i did. i regret it. but you told me it was okay. when apparently it isn't if you're bringing it up. so while i'm gone, you think about what you want, daniela. because you are on thin ice, and it's cracking. so figure it the fuck out."

you leave the apartment before daniela can get a word out, the door slamming behind you echoing through the place. she stands there for a few minutes, waiting to hear you come back, but you never do.

"god damnit," she sighs, dragging her hands over her face.

the whole remainder of the night daniela kept texting you, telling you to come back, that she was sorry and didn't mean it. but, that's how she always was whenever you two fought. and you were tired of everything right now.

when you got to jungwon's, he was surprised to see you, but when you explained the situation he immediately brought you inside and talked with you about the whole thing. he was always good with comforting others and advice. plus, he could tell you were straining yourself recently.

while daniela sat inside the apartment, moping around waiting for you to come back, still texting you as the day passed and you didn't return or respond. she knew you were upset with what she said, that was obvious. and she couldn't lie and say that the event didn't gnaw at her every fiber since she found out, even if sophia got what she deserved in the end, because it did. she knew it shouldn't. that it was a moment of vulnerability for you, that you had no one else to go to. it all spirals back to her regretting what she did in the first place to start it all.

for the whole day daniela thought of what to do, how to fix this. she sat on the couch for hours thinking of what will make you not mad at her anymore. when she got an idea.

it was day three and you still weren't responding, so daniela took matters into her own hands and texting jungwon asking if you were there. he answered truthfully, saying that he wanted her to figure it out with you so he was trying to help the most he could. so she drove over to his place.

standing in front of the door, daniela shifts her weight from one foot to the other anxiously, biting her lip in hopes that this would work. the door opens and jungwon is revealed, who smiles at her.

"hey, dani," he says. "she's in the guest room."

"thanks," daniela replies, walking past him when he opens the door wider for her.

approaching the guest room, daniela knocks on the door a few times, hearing you hum on the other end. she slowly opens the door, making you turn and see it was her. your expression hardens, and dani notices, knowing she's still in deep shit.

"hey," she says awkwardly, pulling the flowers from behind her back. "i got you these." she holds them out, looking at the ground.

you can't help the way your eyes soften at the tone in her voice, quiet and hesitant compared to the confident loudness you were used to. she looks like a kicked puppy staring at the ground, and you let out a short sigh before getting off the bed, walking over to her and taking the bouquet from her.

"i'm sorry for what i said," daniela mumbles. "i didn't mean to say it i just...i still think about it sometimes and i don't know why. i know you didn't do it to hurt me on purpose but sometimes i...i worry that you're going to leave once you realize i'm not the best for you."

her words shock you as she still stares at the ground, finally speaking the thoughts that had been eating her up inside. "dani..."

"i-i know i'm not the best," she quickly adds. "i know you can find someone who will treat you better like it's nothing. but i don't– i can't lose you. i love you so much, so fucking much, and it scares me so much when we fight because i know every time it's another tick gone and that eventually you'll get tired of me and leave. i don't want you to leave. we fight, we have our ups and downs, but you always stay. you always stay and i know one day y-you won't." daniela's voice cracks at the end, tears filling her eyes the longer she talks. "i'm sorry." a few tears fall.

carefully setting the flowers on the bed, you take another step towards her and cup her face in your hands, making her look at you finally. "it's okay," you tell her softly. "you're right, i always stay. i always stay because i love you. i wouldn't if i didn't. dani, i don't think you know that you are the best relationship i've had. all of the other ones ended like shit. you prove to me time and time again that even if you fuck up, you own up to it and you don't run away. i won't ever get tired of you, i promise." you wipe away the tears falling from her eyes. "i love you, and i love the flowers. you always know what to get me."

"i try," daniela responds quietly, nodding slightly.

"i know." you nod. "and i love that about you." you lean in, pressing a soft kiss against her lips.

parting from the kiss, daniela's arms snake around your waist and pull you close to her as she puts her face in the crook of your neck. "i love you," she murmurs against your skin.

"i love you too," you reply, petting her head gently.

[in-som-niyah]

Are you okay with writing Oral? Cuz it so, just imagine just chilling with Jason, legit anywhere, the kitchen? The bedroom? The bathroom? On the couch? Watching TV? And his partner has an oral fixation, and mid way through whatever there doin', she just asks to have his fingers in her mouth as they chill and just do whatever it is there doing... maybe he takes advantage of this? Maybe he manipulates this to his advantage??

urgh god yes

Jason being so absorbed with literally running crime alley and then there's his pretty little girl, always eager to please, always ready for him, not matter the mood. You allow him to love you, to fuck you, and to take out his frustrations on you. This week was tough on him, he was so absorbed in his work that he neglected you. You know he didn't mean to, but too many "later"s and "I'm busy right now, sweetheart"s had you pent up. Jason usually took full advantage of your oral fixation, usually draining himself when he feels overwhelmed or when he needs something pretty to look at. He was drowning in research; files, monitor screens, tension headache and a sore back. So many sore muscles, so little time. He always told you not to bother him when he's working on something so strenuous, but you couldn't help but notice how frustrated he looks. It hurts your heart to see him like this. Maybe some support wouldn't hurt. Not a distraction, just a little something to get him through this rough patch. You find yourself between his legs underneath the table, hands pawing at his thighs while he rubs his temples for the millionth time tonight. You rest your pretty face on his thigh and look up at him for the last time, pleading with him just to give him some respite. As his gaze meets yours, he sighs and unbuckles his belt :)

^ This is how i see majority of the interactions going, but if we're talking dark and manipulative then here's this:

dark!jason using reader's oral fixation to make you into a human cocksleeve to dump his frustrations into, and you're just happy to hear him desperate to cum down your throat :)

So much so that you begin to enjoy days where his boots drag against the floor a little harsher, knowing that he'll shove down his pants and free his weeping cock. Pumping it a few times then fully sheathing himself in your mouth, no patience for adjustment

He would grab fistfuls of your hair to keep your rhythm, only sometimes remembering to let you breathe.

Jason is not a gentleman when he's angry, especially when he's training his cockslut to suck him properly, tongue out baby girl :)

[overadores]

･ ⟢ ⋮ love last ゛༝. ✦ megan skiendiel

You know me well

pairing.ᐟ megan skiendiel x reader

about.ᐟ a sorrowful story of love, sacrifice, and time’s relentless passage, this tale follows two childhood friends whose unbreakable bond grows into something deeper, but as dreams take flight and distance pulls them apart, unspoken words linger—until one fateful night changes everything.

genre.ᐟ heavy angst. hurt, no comfort.

cw.ᐟ major character death, car accident, language.

wc.ᐟ 1229 words

a/n.ᐟ i promise you this is the last car accident story i have, a honorable mention for this lovely song which i highly recommend to listen if yall want to hurt like i did while i was writing this.

It's almost like you love me, I can tell

Have you ever sacrificed everything—your life, your entire world—just to see someone smile again?

Just to remind them that the world isn’t as dark, as empty, as it once seemed?

You did.

It was the summer of ’03.

You were just a kid back then, thrown into the same cabin at summer camp as a stranger, forced into the same space. Megan was a whirlwind of energy, the kind of girl who couldn’t sit still for a second, who danced instead of walked, who laughed at everything and anything at first, she drove you crazy. She was loud, she was hyper, she didn’t know how to read well, she struggled with spelling—but none of that seemed to stop her.

And yet, despite all that, she could read you like an open book.

She tried her hardest to write you letters, struggling to spell out your name, rewriting words over and over just to get them right. She toned down her energy whenever you were too exhausted to deal with it. She listened when you were upset, curled up beside you when homesickness hit, stayed by your side whenever the other kids played their games.

Somewhere along the way, Megan stopped being just an annoying bunkmate.

She became your second home.

You wish you had told her how much that meant to you.

But summer doesn’t last forever. When it ended, you went your separate ways—her on one side of the country, you on the other. The first few weeks were the hardest. You missed her more than you expected, missed her laughter, her warmth. But distance wasn’t enough to break you. You called, you messaged, you sent letters. It wasn’t the same, but it was enough.

You kept this going for years, even into high school.

That’s when you started to realize something was different.

At first, you told yourself it was just a silly crush, something fleeting. You thought maybe it would fade.

You were wrong.

The moment you got your own phone, you were talking constantly. Calls, FaceTimes, texts—it never stopped. Megan always found a way to call, even when she was busy. And when you finally learned to drive, the first thing you did was go to her.

You drove miles just to see her smile.

You sacrificed sleep, time, money—anything, just to be there for her the way she had always been there for you.

And as you grew older, as you stood on the edge of adulthood, you realized something that terrified you.

You loved her.

Not in the way kids love their childhood best friends. Not in the way people expect you to love a friend you’ve known forever.

You were in love with her.

But you never told her.

Not even the night you made your pinky promise.

That night, you took her to your favorite place in the world, the first person you had ever brought there. Megan had never looked happier. Then she took you to hers. You sat together, watching the sun set, golden light painting her face like a dream.

“You know, I’m so lucky to have you,” she had said, turning to you with that soft, radiant smile.

You wanted to tell her then.

You wanted to say, Megan, I love you.

But all you could say was, “And I’m lucky to have you. I hope we spend more days like this, together, until we die.”

She laughed, holding out her pinky. “Then let’s pinky promise on it.”

You hooked your pinky around hers, sealing a promise you didn’t know you would break.

Then came the day Megan called you, her voice thick with tears.

She didn’t get into her dream university.

You didn’t even think. You just grabbed your keys, got into your car, and drove straight to her house.

When she opened the door, her face was streaked with tears, her shoulders shaking.

“Megan, darling, I’m so sorry,” you whispered, pulling her into your arms. She buried her face into your shoulder, crying so hard you could feel your heart breaking.

“But I really wanted to go there,” she sobbed.

“I know.” You held her tighter. “I know, love. But it’s their loss. You’re an incredible dancer, and if they can’t see that, they don’t deserve you.”

She sniffled, letting out a small, shaky laugh. “You always say the right things.”

“I just know you.”

To cheer her up, you took her to her favorite place, bought her ice cream, snacks—anything to see her smile again.

A week later, she called, screaming into the phone.

She got accepted into Dream Academy.

You were beyond proud of her.

But then came the worst part.

She told you that you had to cut contact.

The academy had strict rules—no outside communication, no distractions. You understood. So, you let her go.

You waited.

You watched her from a distance, following every update on her journey. When the finals came, you knew—you knew—she would win.

Then, two days after the announcement, your phone rang.

It was her.

“We can finally celebrate,” she said, her voice full of excitement. “Come over?”

You laughed, already grabbing your keys. “I’m on my way. Get ready.”

She giggled. “Hurry up, slowpoke.”

That was the last thing she ever said to you.

The roads were nearly empty that night.

You were driving, one hand on the wheel, the other checking your phone at a red light. Megan had sent a text.

Meg: hurry uppp, im waitinggg >:(

You smiled, typing back a quick reply.

You: five minutes, i promise.

You never made it.

The light turned green. You started driving again.

And then—

A flash of headlights.

A deafening crash.

Everything slowed down.

You felt the impact before you even realized what was happening.

Pain.

So much pain.

Your thoughts blurred, fading in and out, but you still saw flashes of your life.

Your parents.

Your childhood.

And then Megan.

The girl who was waiting for you.

She was probably texting you again, telling you to hurry up. Probably fixing her hair, too excited to sit still.

You wanted to tell her you were coming.

You wanted to tell her you were sorry.

You wanted to tell her—

I love you.

But you never got the chance.

They say when someone dies unexpectedly, there’s a moment—just a moment—when their soul lingers.

Long enough to see the aftermath.

Long enough to see who mourns them.

You don’t know if that’s true.

But if it is, then you know exactly what you would’ve seen.

Megan.

Sitting in her room, waiting.

Checking her phone every few minutes, frowning when you didn’t respond.

Calling you, only for it to go straight to voicemail.

Then, the next day, the call she never expected.

A voice on the other end, telling her the news.

You can imagine how she reacted.

Shocked.

Denial.

Then, the tears. The way she must’ve curled up in her bed, crying her heart out.

The way she must’ve whispered, No, no, no, they promised. They promised we’d have more days together.

The way she must’ve broken, knowing you never got to celebrate her win.

Knowing you never got to say goodbye.

Megan, darling.

You hope she knows how much you loved her.

You hope she knows how much you sacrificed for her.

You hope she knows, even in your final moments—

You were thinking of her.

[lieslab]

Go fish

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Pairing: Minho X gn reader

Summary: You decide to go on a fishing trip with your boyfriend, not realizing that it means you have to actually fish.

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 2.1K

A/N: Which member of management do I have to fight to let Minho make a fishing video? Let him show us his skills. I haven't forgotten that he's wanted to make one for a while now. Until it happens, I imagine it'd go something like this if you were there and hated fishing.

_ _ _

“This is the worst day of my life,” you mumbled beneath your breath. 

Across from you, Minho looked over with an unamused frown. “Hey, I heard that. I don’t know what you’re talking about. This morning, you were so excited to come with me on this trip. I told you what we’d be doing, but you were all like ‘no, I want to go! It’ll be so much fun!’” He kicked his leg up and waved his hands around to mock you. 

“Don’t belittle me. That was before I found out you were going to use actual worms. That’s disgusting.” 

His dark eyes squinted. “How else do you plan on catching fish? Have you been watching too much American TV? Are we going to go fishing with our bare hands?” 

“I thought you were using rubber ones!” 

“The correct term is fishing lures.” 

With a huff, you silently pouted beside him. High on his own amusement, he popped the plastic lid off the worms he purchased twenty minutes ago. His solo fishing trip turned into a duo trip. Never in a million years did he think you’d join him for something like this, but here you were beside him. 

Your nose scrunched up in disgust. The pink-noodle worm squirmed along his fingers. Bits of damp dirt clung to its naked body. With the lid off the container, the wet mildew smell floated your way. You pinched your nose and turned around. “How can fish eat that? It stinks.” 

“For the same reason you like blue cheese, you think it tastes good.” 

You shot him another glare. He grinned, held out the worm in your direction, and let it dangle. “So do you think you can bait your own pole or should I do it?” 

“You do it. I don’t want to be responsible for causing the worm pain. It’s going to give me nightmares.” 

“It’s a worm.” 

“And hooking the worm is going to hurt it. Don’t you have ear piercings? You know what it feels like to be pricked with a needle. It hurts.” 

He sighed, attached the worm on the string, and casted the string out into the murky water. “You know how a bobber works, right? You know how to reel in a fish slowly and then-” 

“Okay, just because I didn’t want to put the worm on the hook, it doesn’t make me stupid.” You grabbed the pole from him, headed towards the edge of the bank, and focused on the white and red bobber. 

“You’re going to be in a world of trouble when I pull out the fileting knife.” 

“I’m going to filet you.” 

“Tough talk from the person who couldn’t put a worm on a hook.” 

You stuck your tongue out at him and took your attention back to the bobber. Your feet dug in the oversized grass and you stayed quiet. Behind you, Minho began to set up a new fishing pole for himself. Attached with a worm and a hook, he set up a few feet away from you and threw out his own line. 

For months, he spent so long talking about how eager he had been to go fishing. When the cold cleared up and the sun began to warm South Korea, he planned a fishing trip. He never planned for you to tag along, but you insisted. 

He didn’t find your presence annoying, but rather amusing. For as long as he dated you, you were a little more sensitive. Your ideal free time wasn’t spent fishing, but rather hanging out with your friends or watching Netflix. He started to pack up when you asked if you could join him, but he agreed instantly. 

He learned how to fish years ago. Childhood was full of his parents, family friends, and his own friends trying to see who could catch the largest fish. Bets were made. Recipes changed over time. The wholesomeness and memories created, they were irreplaceable. 

Something about taking the time out of your day, catching the food, preparing it, and consuming it; it made everything extra special. The taste of fresh fish, not everyone could recreate that flavor. The extra work made it all worth it. 

“It’s moving! I caught something! I caught something!” 

Your voice broke him from his own bobber. He glanced over and, sure enough, your bobber slowly moved towards the bank. With each rotation of the handle, you tugged it closer and closer. Water splashed, a yellow webbed tail smacked the water, and disappeared beneath the surface again. 

He dropped his pole and hurried over to you. “Do you have it?” 

“Yeah, but whatever it is, it’s huge. I can feel the weight on the end of the line.” You continued to slowly bring it in. When it jerked and the bobber tugged, Minho leaned over to assist you. 

After a few moments, the tip of a face popped out from the surface. Beady rotten eyes caught yours. A mouth opened and shut. Sunlight reflected off the glimmering scales. 

“No fucking way,” he mumbled. 

“What? What is it?” 

“Hang onto it, I’m going to get the net!” He spun around and hurried back to his car. A metal hoop laced with a black net and a long handle. 

You gagged when the fish splashed water. Water splashed over your legs, soaked your shoes, and seeped into your socks. You grumbled, feeling disgusting, but kept your hold on the handle. 

Minho rushed back, trailing through the grass. The netting disappeared through the water, tucked beneath the murky surface, he clung to whatever you caught, and yanked it up. His eyes widened when he brought the fish to the surface. “Oh my god.” 

“Why is it that size? Are fish supposed to be that big? Is that normal? Is it sick?” 

The seriousness of the moment chipped away with your concern. His infectious laughter filled the air. “You c-caught-” He burst into another round of laughter. 

“It’s not funny!” You cried out. “Why is he that big? Minho, he’s like a fucking giant! Is it normal?” 

He nearly dropped the net back into the water. Sniffling, he wiped at one of his eyes. “This is what we call a Common Carp. I don’t know how you managed to catch one this size. It’s got to be over ten pounds, at least.” 

“Is that a good thing?” 

“It means that we don’t have to spend hours searching for dinner.” 

Your eyes widened and your mouth dropped. “We’re going to eat him?” 

“It’s a fish. You don’t know the sex, but yes. We’re going to eat this fish. Do you think I came out to catch fish for fun? If I’m going to put a hook through the mouth, I’m going to consume a fish or two.” 

You grumbled and groaned. Like a lost puppy, you followed Minho back up the bank. The mildew colored fish’s mouth opened and shut, trying to gain air. The moment Minho put the net on the ground, it flopped out. 

“No!” He cried out and reached for it. The wiggling fish managed to avoid his grasp. Squirming and flopping back in the direction of the water, you dropped down in front of it on your knees. 

A wet tail slapped a small section of your bare ankle. You gagged, but didn’t pull away. Instead, you stretched out with two hands, dived forward, and pinned the slimy creature to the ground. Fish slime hit your tongue and you nearly lost your lunch. Thankfully, Minho dived forward and took over from there. 

Once he removed the hook, he grabbed the lower jaw and placed it in a large blue bucket of water. And you? Well, you lost it. You gagged and fought against the urge to vomit. Your hands splashed the murky water repeatedly. The scent of wet fish clung to your skin. 

“Are you okay?” Minho called after you. 

“I’m fucking dying. He touched me with his germs! I’m going to have-” You gagged again and spit. You vigorously rubbed your hands against the springy-green grass. “Ew, gross! I can still feel the scaly skin!” 

“You big baby. How are you going to learn to filet a fish, if you can’t handle catching one?” 

“Don’t make me do that. I don’t want to watch! I’m going to-” Another one of your loud gags tipped Minho over the edge. He burst into another fit of laughter and collapsed to his knees. 

“Hey! It’s not-” Another gagging sound brought tears to his eyes. He tried to stop, but you looked so distressed. Fishing had always been normal to him, but you acted like you touched bio-medical waste. Your reaction was so dramatic, he couldn’t help it. 

“Stop laughing at me!” 

“Stop g-gagging!” He shot back, breathlessly. He sucked in a deep breath and tipped his head towards the ground. “I think I’m going to pee myself from laughing so hard.” 

“You’re not helping!”

It took a while for the two of you to contain your composure. He rose back to his feet, grabbed his pole, and started to try to catch another fish. Minutes ticked by, but the water remained still. Not daring to touch your pole again, you walked back to the bucket the carp was in. 

“I’m sorry I caught you.” You plopped down beside him. “Soon, you’ll be in my stomach and I apologize for that. I was trying to do what was best. I didn’t realize we were going to eat you. If I would have known, I wouldn’t have stuck a pole in the water, Mr. Fish. “

“Stop talking to the fish,” Minho called over his shoulder. “It can’t hear you. Fish don’t speak English.” 

“Tough talk for the guy who barely speaks English himself.” 

You didn’t know what he said in Japanese, but you could only assume they were strings of swear words. You sighed, turned back to the bucket, and leaned closer. “I’m really sorry about all this. Soon your suffering will end and-” 

Splash! 

Minho glanced back over his shoulder to see you frantically wiping at your face. “You stupid fucking fish! Screw being nice! I’m going to eat you with zero remorse!” 

Minho blinked, taken back by your sudden change to demeanor.  “What did you-” 

“He splashed me!” You grabbed the edge of your shirt and wiped it over your face. “I’m going to get pink eye or something!” 

He sighed, tipped his head back, and rolled his eyes to the sky. Maybe this would be the first and only time the two of you went on a fishing trip together. Fishing obviously wasn’t your forte. 

After your fight with the fish, and no luck catching another, Minho packed up the pole to go home. You sat in the passenger’s seat with your arms crossed. The bright blue bucket held steadily between your legs. The oversized fish rocked with the sloshing water. 

Silence sat between you and Minho. In his head, he focused on recipes he could make with fresh fish. You avoided looking into the bucket, until you gave up. You sighed and glanced down at the fish. 

“I’m sorry that I said I’d happily eat you. I didn’t mean it. The words came out in the spur of the moment. I grew angry at you because I don’t like fish germs.” 

Only the sound of sloshing water greeted you. You looked further down and your face softened. Beneath the murky water, beady dark eyes met yours. Your heart ached at the idea of being pulled from your home and being forced into such a confined small space. Like being trapped in the jail cell, the fish did nothing to deserve it. 

“Minho?” 

“Huh?” 

“How are you going to kill him?” 

“As humanely as possible. Just because I’m going to filet him, it doesn’t mean I have a black heart. I’m going to show what compassion I can. Just because we’re larger beings and above fish in the food chain, it doesn’t mean I want the fish to die in a tragic way.” 

“I don’t want to watch.” 

“You don’t have to.”

“I’m going to name him Minnow.” 

“That’s a carp, not a-” 

“Minnow. Short for Mini Lee Know.” You glanced over innocently and smiled. “Because just like him, you’re a pain in my ass too, sometimes.” 

“You’re lucky I love you, you idiot.” 

“Yeah, I am.” 

“You’re on fish cooking duty.” 

“As long as you promise to do the filleting and cleaning, I have no problem doing that.” 

“Wanna scale him?” 

“Over my dead body will I ever touch another disgusting, slimy, wet, smelly fish ever again, bucko.” 

And from that point on, you kept your word; never again. 

| ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ |

Taglist: @lia-linny @seungnishi @stellasays45 @emilyywhyy @rockstarkkami @flightlessackerman @danihwang882 @inlovewithstraykids @velvetmoonlght

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Ko-fi

[luvfae]

omg hiii ! i loved ur mini series CENTER STAGE and i wanted to know if i could request a thanos fanfic :p btw i love ur accs theme its BEAUTIFUL :3 so basically y/n breaks up w her boyfriend su bong because he does to much drugs XD so she tries to find a small job as far as possible from her old work place because she knows he will come visit (iykyk) Y/N starts working in a gaz station in the highway ! And guess what her dear dear ex bf thanos finds her :p im so sorry if is this so badly written btw you can do litteraly whatever you want (smut,angst,fluff its really up to you) OFC dont feel pressured to do this request and if you do pls tag me :) TOODLES

YOU CAN RUN, BUT

YOU CAN’T HIDE

parings: thanos/choi su-bong x f!reader

warnings: smut, oral (reader receiving), p in v, unprotected sex (don’t be a dummy), public sex, swearing, thanos is lowkey a stalker

You should’ve known better.

You should’ve known he wouldn’t just let you go.

It had been two months since you left him. Two months since you packed up and disappeared, taking nothing but the essentials, leaving behind the mess of a man who had become more of a ghost than a lover.

Thanos had always been reckless, but the drugs made him worse. He was slipping, spiraling, drowning in a lifestyle that had already eaten away at him, and no matter how much you tried to pull him back, he wouldn’t stop. So you left. Because if he was going to destroy himself, you refused to let him take you down with him.

You thought you had escaped.

But you were wrong.

You got a job at a gas station on the highway—a quiet, out-of-the-way place that barely saw more than a handful of customers on a good day. You liked it. The silence. The stillness. The fact that no one knew you here.

Until tonight.

Until him.

You felt it before you saw him—that suffocating weight pressing against your ribs, the eerie sense of being watched. The store was empty, the dim fluorescent lights buzzing overhead as you restocked the shelves.

Then the bell above the door chimed.

You turned.

And there he was.

Thanos.

Standing in the doorway, hands stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie, watching you like a predator who had just found his prey.

Your stomach twisted.

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

Then he smirked. “Took me a while to find you.”

Your throat went dry.

He took a slow step forward, then another, the automatic doors sliding shut behind him. The air in the store grew thick, the walls closing in.

“Nice place,” he said, glancing around before letting his gaze settle back on you. “Not really your vibe, though.”

Your fingers curled into the edge of the shelf. “What are you doing here?”

He cocked his head. “What do you think?”

Your pulse hammered against your ribs. He was high—you could see it in his eyes, that dark, hazy look that always meant trouble. But there was something else, too. Something sharper.

Something dangerous.

“You shouldn’t be here,” you said quietly.

His smirk faded. “Yeah?”

His steps were slow, deliberate, as he closed the distance between you. You forced yourself to stay still, even when every nerve in your body screamed at you to run.

Then he was right in front of you, so close you could smell the faint traces of smoke and cologne clinging to his hoodie.

“You left,” he murmured.

Your fingers twitched. “Yeah.”

His gaze flickered over your face, as if searching for something. Then, in a voice quieter than before—softer, in a way that made your chest ache—he asked, “Why?”

You swallowed hard.

“You know why.”

A muscle in his jaw ticked.

“No,” he said. “I don’t.”

His hand lifted. Not to grab you. Not to hurt you. Just to touch.

You flinched.

That made something in his expression crack.

“Did I ever hurt you?” His voice was low, rough.

You hesitated. “No.”

“Then why?”

Your breath shook. “Because you were hurting yourself.”

Silence.

For the first time, Thanos looked away. His lips parted like he wanted to say something, but no words came.

Then, just as quickly, the softness vanished.

His hand shot out, gripping your jaw—not rough, but firm, holding you in place.

“You think you can run from me?” he murmured, tilting your chin up.

Your pulse pounded. “Let me go.”

He didn’t. Instead, his thumb traced your bottom lip, almost absently, his expression darkening.

“You left me,” he said. “Do you know what that did to me?”

You shuddered. “Thanos—”

His grip tightened just enough to make you gasp. Not enough to hurt. Just enough to remind you that you were his.

“You broke me,” he muttered.

Then he kissed you.

And it wasn’t gentle.

It was teeth, tongue, and desperation—his hands moving from your jaw to your waist, pulling you flush against him as if he wanted to crawl inside your skin. You gasped against his mouth, your hands shoving against his chest, but he only kissed you harder.

You hated that you kissed him back.

Hated the way your body melted into him like it never forgot, like it never wanted to forget.

Hated that part of you missed this.

“Mine,” he murmured against your lips. “You were always mine.”

His hands slid lower, gripping your thighs, hoisting you onto the counter like he belonged between your legs. Like he had every right to claim you again.

And maybe he did.

Because you weren’t sure you had ever stopped belonging to him.

And that terrified you.

His hands were everywhere.

Sliding up your thighs. Digging into your waist. Claiming, possessing, reminding.

You shouldn’t let this happen. You should push him away, tell him to leave, remind yourself why you ran in the first place.

But you didn’t.

Because the moment his lips crashed against yours again—hot, desperate, hungry—you were already gone.

Thanos groaned into your mouth, his hands gripping the back of your thighs as he pulled you flush against him. You could feel him—hard, needy, pressing against the seam of your jeans like he’d been craving this as much as you had.

“Fuck,” he muttered against your lips. “You’re still so fucking perfect.”

Your breath hitched as his hands slid under your shirt, fingers tracing the curve of your waist before pushing up, dragging the fabric with them. You arched into his touch, and he wasted no time yanking your shirt over your head, tossing it aside before his mouth was on you again.

His lips found your neck, kissing, sucking, biting. He wanted to mark you. Wanted you to remember who you belonged to.

You gasped as his hands unclipped your bra, letting it fall away before he palmed your breasts, thumbs circling your nipples.

“You missed me,” he murmured, his teeth scraping against your pulse point. “Didn’t you?”

You refused to answer.

So he punished you.

His mouth moved lower, trailing over your collarbone, down your sternum, until he was sucking a nipple into his mouth, his tongue flicking over the sensitive peak.

A whimper escaped your lips before you could stop it.

That made him grin.

“Yeah,” he muttered, kissing his way down your stomach as his hands made quick work of your jeans. “That’s what I thought.”

Your jeans hit the floor. Your panties followed. And then he was kneeling in front of you, his mouth inches from where you ached for him most.

You clenched your thighs together, but he pried them apart easily, gripping your knees as he looked at you.

“You’re soaked,” he murmured, his thumb teasing over your slit. “Did I do that?”

You shuddered.

He chuckled. “Yeah. I fucking did.”

And then his mouth was on you.

You choked on a gasp, your back arching as his tongue dragged through your folds, slow and deliberate. He groaned against you, as if he had been starving for this, as if he had missed the taste of you like a man deprived.

He sucked your clit into his mouth, and you nearly screamed.

Your hands shot to his hair, gripping, tugging, trying to ground yourself against the overwhelming pleasure.

He loved it.

“Hold on to me,” he muttered against your heat before diving back in, eating you out like he wanted to ruin you.

Your legs trembled. Your body burned.

And when he slipped two fingers inside you, curling them just right—fuck.

“Come for me,” he ordered, his voice hoarse.

You did.

Your body locked up, pleasure crashing over you in waves as he worked you through your orgasm, sucking, licking, owning you.

When you finally slumped against the counter, breathless, he pulled back—his lips glossy, his eyes dark, his smirk filthy.

“Not done with you yet, sweetheart,” he murmured, unbuckling his belt.

And the moment he pulled his cock out, thick and hard and aching, you knew you were in trouble.

Because you weren’t going to stop this.

Not tonight.

Not when he was looking at you like he would die if he didn’t have you.

And maybe—just maybe—you felt the same.

You sat on the counter, praying on one would come into the store, legs spread just for him. His cock pressed against your slick folds, teasing, sliding, waiting.

Without warning, he thrust inside you—deep, all of him, stretching you open in one slow, unbearable motion.

You gasped, your fingers digging into his shoulders as your body adjusted to the thick, perfect burn of him.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his head falling forward, forehead pressed against yours. “You’re still so fucking tight.”

You clenched around him in response, just to be a brat.

His grip on your thighs tightened.

“Don’t start.” His voice was strained, barely in control. “Or I won’t be nice.”

You smirked. “You’re never nice.”

He laughed—dark, low, wrecked.

And then he moved.

A slow pull out, a deep thrust back in, setting a brutal, punishing pace. Every snap of his hips slammed you against the counter, his hands gripping your waist, holding you still so he could take everything.

You were already unraveling, your body too overwhelmed, too sensitive from before. You felt everything—the drag, the stretch, the way he hit just right every time he bottomed out.

“Look at you,” he muttered, watching your face, watching every reaction. “Taking me so fucking well.”

You whimpered, your hands fisting in his hair, pulling him down for a kiss—sloppy, desperate, more teeth than lips.

He swallowed your moans, groaning as he fucked into you harder, faster. The counter shook beneath you, the sounds of skin slapping and breathless gasps filling the small, dimly lit gas station.

“Missed this pussy,” he muttered against your mouth. “Missed the way you squeeze me—fuck, baby—”

Your thighs clenched around his waist, locking him in, pulling him deeper.

His rhythm stuttered. His jaw clenched.

And then he lost it.

He grabbed you, yanking you against him, fucking you harder, chasing his release, chasing yours.

Your orgasm hit you fast, ripping through you like fire, your nails sinking into his back as you came with a broken cry.

He followed, his hips jerking, his breath ragged as he spilled inside you, filling you, owning you.

For a moment, neither of you moved.

Just panting. Clinging. Feeling.

Then, after a long pause, his lips brushed your ear.

“Told you,” he murmured, voice wrecked but smug.

You frowned. “Told me what?”

His teeth nipped your jaw, lazy, possessive.

“You can run,” he muttered, his hands sliding up your spine, his cock still buried deep inside you.

“But you can’t hide.”

[hyunjins-orange-slice-too]

i want to use the word ‘love’

pairing: changbin x fem reader

genre: fluff, friends to lovers

warnings: crying, breakups, pet names (bun and bubs), very brief mentions of violence, she/her pronouns used, guest appearances by channie and jisung, no smut- just some kissing :)

an: it’s finally here! this is what won the poll and i’m so excited about it. i wanted to post it sooner, but it’s the longest thing ive written in a while and it took some time lol i hope you like it :) happy valentine’s day. you are loved ♡

masterlist

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you waited outside on the curb for him to pick you up. it was just starting to get dark and you could see the sun setting behind the buildings. the concrete was cold on your bare legs, your dress only coming to mid thigh. but you couldn’t stand anymore, your feet throbbing from your shoes. you stared down and the pavement, pushing a pebble around with your finger as you sniffled. you had mostly stopped crying once changbin said he was on his way. your heart was still shattered, but somehow, knowing that he was coming made you feel better. though you were sure you still looked crazy to anyone who may be passing by. if you thought about it too much, how stupid you look and feel, a fresh wave of tears fills your waterline. so you try to think about something else.

you try, and you fail.

all you can think about is his stupid smile. how he made you feel so loved. so.. important. until he invited you to dinner tonight, only to dump you before you had even finished your salad. your eyes welled up again.

“fuck..” you said to yourself, voice watery. you threw the pebble, watched it skitter across the street as a car pulled up and parked a few feet from you. you recognized that car.

the door opened and changbin got out, rushing to your side. “are you okay?” he was crouching next to you, holding you at arms length, assessing you for injuries like you told him you were in a car crash or something. “look at me.” he put his fingers under you chin and turned your face up to him. “oh.. y/n..” his heart broke when he saw your tear stained cheeks, your red puffy eyes and running mascara. he did his best to wipe your tears with his fingers. “what happened?”

you were so relieved to see him. he was the person who was closest to you, the one you would trust with anything. that’s why he was your first thought when you needed someone to come save you. but as comforted as you were by his presence, getting dumped still really hurt. and the tears returned with his question. they spilled down your cheeks and over his fingertips. “he..” you hiccuped. “he dum-dumped me.” you struggled to get the words out, changbins sweet face and thick frame glasses blurring through your watery eyes.

he was suddenly filled with rage. how dare he dump you and then leave you stranded and crying? heartbroken and no way to get home? he wanted to track him down and give him a few swings for treating you this way.

he would never treat you this way

that thought had been crossing his mind recently. every time you found some new loser to date only to be left heartbroken a few weeks later. though, this asshole had lasted the longest, managing to stay around for six or so months. and changbin wanted to beat some sense into him. or just punch him until he felt better. but, you needed him right now. so he pushed aside the thoughts of violence, the thoughts of sticking up for you, the thoughts of treating you the way you deserved to be treated. he pushed all of those thoughts deep down and helped you up off the curb. you stood on shaky legs and he noticed that your feet were bare, your shoes discarded on the sidewalk.

he sighed at your recklessness. he looked at you, and then your shoes on the ground. “my feet hurt..” you said, your voice still broken.

“prince bin?” he asked, though it was more of a statement than a question. he bent over and grabbed your shoes, handing them to you. and then he scooped you up. one of his arms behind your shoulders and one of them under your legs, he carried you in his arms and placed you down into the passenger seat of his car, careful not to hit your head. he was used to doing this, though he hadn’t done it in a while. you liked to go out with your friends occasionally, have some drinks, and changbin would always come and scoop you up when you were too wasted to walk to the car. you drunkenly called him a prince one evening, (though he thought you probably meant knight) and the title kind of stuck. he thought ‘prince’ was an apt title, considering the way he held you was technically called a princess carry.

but as changbin started the engine and pulled from the curb, he thought it was more like a.. bridal carry. and that made him smile.

______๑♡⁠๑______ ______๑♡⁠๑______ ______๑♡⁠๑______

about a month had passed since that night and not much had changed. you still went on random dates, with random guys, just searching for the one who would make you feel special. the one who would treat you like you were the most important thing in the world. that’s all you wanted. you just wanted to feel loved. to have silly little inside jokes, and hold hands, and have fake arguments about who loves who more. but so far all you’ve found are assholes and idiots. sometimes both at the same time.

“i think im going to take a break from dating.”

changbin rolled his eyes, grabbing the popcorn from the microwave and dumping it into a bowl. he returned back to where you were on the couch, drowning in a fuzzy blanket. “i’ve heard that one before.”

“no, bin, i’m serious this time. fuck all these guys.”

“you say that but you’ll swoon at the next cute guy that looks your way.” he laughed.

“i just want to find my person.” you said, a little defensive. “there’s nothing wrong with that.”

he immediately felt bad for his comment. he was just kidding. but he knew this was a sensitive topic for you right now. “i know, bubs. i didn’t mean anything. i’m just teasing.”

you let out a loud exhale. “i know, bin. i’m just frustrated with all of it. when will it be my turn? you know?”

he nodded. oh he knew too well. he often had the same thought. when would it be his turn? his turn to take you out. to kiss your cheek. to hold your hand. “you’ll find your person.” he said, looking down at the popcorn. you couldn’t see the sadness in his eyes in the darkly lit room, but you could pick up on his vibe.

“you’ll find your person too, you know.” you said, nudging his large bicep with your elbow. “i know you’ve been single for a long time, and your job is demanding, and it’s difficult with valentine’s day coming up-“

“gee thanks, y/n. you’re really making me feel better.”

you both giggled. “i mean it though!” you smiled. “you’ll find your person. i know it.”

and he smiled back at you, knowing in his heart he had already found his person. he had found you a long time ago. but you hadn’t found him yet.

he threw a piece of popcorn at you. it bounced off your cheek and landed somewhere in the blanket. “hey!” you giggled, reaching for the bowl. but he held it out of your reach. you struggled against him, trying to reach for some retaliation popcorn but it was no use.

“bubs, i don’t know why you’re throwing popcorn.” he teased, laughing. “we’re adults. let’s watch the movie.”

“you were throwing popcorn! not me!” giggling, you returned to your spot, pulling the blanket up around your middle. “i want some popcorn too.” you pouted, pressing play on the movie.

“ah.. see i don’t know if i can trust you not to throw it at me.” he grinned.

“you started it!”

“i don’t recall that.” he smirked. he grabbed a few pieces of popcorn and held them up to your mouth. “open.” he said.

and you didn’t know why, but you felt his words in your tummy. they grew wings and fluttered around, flushing your cheeks. you did as he asked and opened your mouth. he dropped the pieces in and smiled, before facing back toward the movie, shoveling popcorn into his own mouth.

what was that? you wondered. why did that fluster you? you had been best friends with changbin for as long as you can remember. but you don’t remember ever feeling.. flustered around him? of course, you knew he was attractive. the man was so incredibly handsome. there was no denying that. and he was funny and sweet. but you never allowed yourself to go there. never wanting to ruin the friendship you had built with him. but.. this was a new development. you tried to shove it down, tried to forget about it and enjoy your movie night. he held another handful of popcorn up to your lips, dropping them in. you chewed, happily. feeling content but also, warm. his body radiating heat. you scooted a little closer to him, as much as you dared, your knee touching his thigh.

he fed you some more popcorn as he tried not to hyperfixate on where your bodies were touching. he tried to relax, play it cool, but his heart was hammering.

you eventually fell asleep, as you always do during movies, your head falling against changbins shoulder. as the credits rolled he looked down at you, admiring you from this awkward angle. your long eyelashes tickled your cheeks. his hand found yours under the blanket, but he didn’t grab it. didn’t try to interlock your fingers. he just gently brushed his pinky against yours, enjoying the moment. but it didn’t last as long as he would have liked.

you made a confused noise as you stirred awake. you lifted your head from his shoulder, rubbing sleep out of your eyes. your hair was standing up, your cheeks puffy. “did i..” you yawned. “did i fall asleep?”

“you always fall asleep during movies.”

“sorry, bin. i was just so comfortable i guess.” you stretched your arms out in front of you, your lazy gaze looking over at him.

he started at you for a moment, before..

“you’re so cute.”

it just fell out of his mouth. and it wasn’t the worst thing he could have said. it wasn’t a full on love confession, but he definitely said it in a way that suggested he wanted to be more than friends. he internally chastised himself.

the butterflies returned to your tummy, still confusing you. you looked away, out of embarrassment, struggling with these new feelings you were having for your best friend. were they new feelings? or were you just now allowing yourself to feel what you had been feeling all along? you didn’t know.

changbin cleared his throat. “i should get going.” he said. “it’s late. i have practice in the morning and you need some sleep.”

you nodded sleepily, and stood to walk him out. you crossed your arms over you chest, suddenly cold without the blanket or his body heat. you dreaded crawling into your cold bed and the thought crossed your mind that it wouldn’t be so cold if changbin was there with you. you blinked hard, clearing the thought from your brain. at the door, he hugged you like always, mumbling a “g’night bubs.” into your hair.

you waved goodbye to him and latched the door shut behind him. your apartment felt dark and cold and lonely without him. and it made you sad. you pulled yourself in between your ice cold sheets and tried not to think about changbins arms wrapped around you.

______๑♡⁠๑______ ______๑♡⁠๑______ ______๑♡⁠๑______

“so you just like, dropped popcorn into her mouth?”

changbin nodded. “yeah and i’m surprised she couldn’t see my hand shaking.” he smiled then, remembering. “you should have seen her face though. she’s never blushed like that because of me.”

“so maybe it’s time to tell her..?” chan sing-songed while tickling changbins sides.

“what if it ruins everything, hyung?”

changbin lounged on the couch in the practice room, his sweat soaked shirt sticking to his body. he took a drink from his water bottle, swatting chan’s hands away, catching his breath.

“it’s time to finally do something.” chan said. “if it doesn’t work out, then you’ll know and can move on. instead of pining over her for the rest of your life, yeah?”

“i guess so.” changbin ran his hands through his hair. “im just so scared.”

“y/n is your best friend. even if she doesn’t feel the same way, she wouldn’t stop being your best friend. she’s not like that.”

changbin nodded. “you’re right. i just need to get on with it.”

he noticed jisung giggling over his phone in the corner and started to ask him what was so funny, but minho called practice back together before he could.

they both stood, chan patted changbin on the back. “you’re seo changbin. you’re spearB! you can do anything.”

changbin scoffed. “that was cheesy, hyung.”

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it was the dreaded day. valentine’s day. you obviously didnt have a boyfriend to spend it with, and you didn’t really have friends to spend it with either. they all had their own relationships. all except for changbin. but with your budding new feelings, you were worried to spend it with him.

but none of that really mattered because you hadn’t heard from him? you had texted him this morning, right before you clocked in for work. and you checked it on your lunch break and there was nothing. and now it was time to head home and you were a little disappointed when you saw no notifications. but you tried not to let it get to you. he does have a very busy and demanding job. but you couldn’t help the thoughts creeping in that maybe he noticed your strange behavior last night. maybe he was worried you were attracted to him and he was pulling away. it made your stomach hurt to think about it.

but the whole way home you couldn’t help but think about it. by the end of your bus ride, you were physically ill. you had convinced yourself that you had ruined everything. that he didn’t want to be your friend anymore because he thought you were into him and that scared him. you had ruined an entire friendship spanning years and years because you couldn’t control yourself around his popcorn? you thought you may cry.

approaching your apartment, you noticed your welcome mat was crooked. the message said “welcome-ish” in swirling font and underneath that in parentheses said “depends on who you are and how long you plan to stay” though the print has faded over time. you kicked the mat back into place and slipped your key into the lock. clumsily opening the door, dragging your tired and depressed feet into the dark apartment. you toed off your shoes before flicking on the light.

and that’s when you saw him.

changbin stood in the middle of your living room, in a black button down shirt with matching black silk tie. his black slacks looking freshly pressed. his black dress shoes freshly shined. he was standing next to a table that he had set up, complete with two chairs, tablecloth, and lit candles. the entire ceiling was filled with red and pink heart shaped balloons, their curly strings cascading down. he held a small bundle of roses in his hands and he looked incredibly nervous. so handsome, but nervous.

“changbin..?” you quietly asked, stepping further into the apartment.

he cleared his throat. “uh.. hey bun.”

he brought one of his hands up to his ear, tugging on his earlobe. a nervous tick of his that he’s had the entire time you’ve known him.

you waited, staring, unsure of what to say or what was even going on and honestly, all you could think about was how handsome he looked and how you looked awful. your work clothes stained and dirty, your hair a matted mess on top of your head.

“i think i probably have some explaining to do.” he said. “well, i have a confession to make i guess.”

your heart started beating irregularly in your chest. was this what people meant when they say their heart ‘skipped a beat’?

you walked closer to him, noticing now the smell in your apartment. it smelled good. your stomach rumbled.

“these are for you..” he held the roses out and you took them from him. they really were beautiful. they were pink and smelled like spring time.

you started to thank him but he cut you off. “i just.. i need to get this out first before i chicken out.” he said.

“my apartment is filled with heart shaped balloons, bin. i think it’s too late to change your mind now.” you joked. he chuckled, your teasing seemingly making him feel a little bit better.

“i guess you’re right.” he smiled. “i.. like you.” he reached out and delicately took the flowers from you, placing them on the table. and then he took your hands in his and looked into your eyes. his hands were sweaty and shaking slightly, so you gave them a reassuring squeeze. “no, like isn’t the right word.” he paused, thinking. “i want to use the word love, but i don’t want to scare you.” his eyes softened. “but bun.. that’s what it feels like. and i’ve felt this way for so long now. i don’t think i can stand to see you cry over another idiot guy who doesn’t deserve you. who doesn’t treat you right. i’ve been silent because i didn’t want to ruin what we have. you’re my best friend in the whole world and i would never want to jeopardize that.” he swallowed and took a deep breath. “but, i love you bubs.” he exhaled, feeling relieved at finally saying it out loud to you. “i want to be the one to take you out. to hold your hand, and to cuddle you at night. i know i can treat you the way that you deserve to be treated. if.. if you’ll have me.”

“bin..” you reached up and grabbed his face between your palms. “i wish you would have told me sooner. maybe.. maybe if you would have said something before, it wouldn’t have taken me so long to realize that.. i love you too.” you smiled.

his face absolutely lit up. his eyes went wide and his smile grew large. “really?” he asked, feeling like he was dreaming. like he needed to make sure he heard you correctly. you nodded, tears welling up in your eyes. “say it again.” he said.

“i love you, bin.”

he grabbed you around your waist and lifted you off the ground, spinning you in a soft circle. “again!” he giggled.

“i love you!” you giggled back.

he sat you on your feet and looked into your eyes again. he tucked your hair behind your ear and stroked your cheek with his thumb. “you have no idea how long i’ve been waiting to hear that. but..” he tilted his head back and forth, thinking. his lips in a smirk. “i love you more.”

“not true!” you argued.

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“wait, you cooked?”

he chuckled. “i tried. i hope it tastes okay.”

you stuck your fork in the pasta, bringing it to your mouth. “i thought you only cooked for sustenance. wait, does this spaghetti have protein powder in it?”

he stuck his tongue out at you from across the small table. “very funny. just try it. i wanted to try cooking for you. i need to know if i should never do it again.”

you took a bite, chewing slowly. it was actually really good. “binnie, this is delicious.”

his shoulders relaxed and he took a bite of his own. “wow, it’s not terrible.” he said, chuckling. “i didn’t know i could do that.”

you ate your meal and sipped on some wine and talked about your day, just like normal. turns out, he hadn’t been answering your texts because he had been here setting all of this up. he used the spare key that you kept under your mat to let himself in. he said it took forever to blow up all the balloons and he was worried you would come home to find him passed out on the floor, surrounded by half filled balloons. only then did he discover that they only floated if they were filled with helium. so then he had to figure that out. and it took him even longer to cook the pasta, really working hard to make sure it was right. and he used your shower to wash up (if you thought about that for too long it made you squirmy) and he put on his nice clothes. then he says he waited in ‘a state of panic’ for you to finally come home.

“i can’t believe you did all of this for me.” you said, leaning back in your chair, sipping your wine.

“i wanted you to know how special you are to me.” he stood up and grabbed your plate, taking them both to the sink. he rolled up the sleeves of his button up, exposing his muscular forearms. you weren’t sure if it was the wine, but you had plenty of thoughts about those forearms. he began washing the dishes, the sound of running water filling the apartment. you finished your wine and brought it to the sink, sitting it on the counter next to the dirty cutlery. you looked at him, admiring his appearance. he really filled out his shirt nicely. it was spread tightly against his broad chest, the buttons barely hanging on.

“bun, you’re staring.” he smirked.

“sorry. you just look.. so good.” you confessed. “plus, i can openly stare now without fear of making you uncomfortable. it’s not.. making you uncomfortable, is it?” you pulled your eyes away from his biceps and looked up to his eyes. he was smiling, the tips of his ears a light pink.

“i don’t mind if you look. want me to take the shirt off and flex?”

your jaw fell open, your core pulsed. “don’t tease about that.”

he turned the water off and dried his hands with the towel. he walked over and touched your cheek again, cupping it in his palm. his eyes were darker now, and his thumb grazed across your bottom lip. “i’m not teasing.” he said, his voice low.

you thought your knees may give out. you grabbed his arms, steadying yourself. you had never seen this side of him before. had never seen him flirt and be so.. sexy. he leaned down, his nose brushing against yours, your erratic breath mingling with his. he waited.

“binnie..” you exhaled. “kiss me.”

he slowly brought his lips to yours, placing a delicate kiss on your lips. it started off slow and sweet but soon became a little more heated when he slipped his tongue into your mouth. you brought your hands up around his neck, tangling them in his hair. he kissed down your jaw and to your neck, licking and nibbling at the soft skin there. you threw your head back, panting. “bin.. let’s go to my room?” you phrased it as a question because you didn’t want him to feel pressured. after all, he had only confessed his feelings for you an hour ago. you didn’t want him to feel like things were moving too fast.

but he immediately bent down and scooped you up in his arms. “prince bin.” he mumbled against your lips, carrying you through your apartment and to your bed.

and you smiled into the kiss, your heart so full you thought it may burst. if you thought about it too hard you were sure that you would start crying. because you knew.. you had found your person. and he had been here all along.

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↑ inspo for binnies valentines fit hehe ↑

♡ pls reblog if you liked it! it truly helps a lot and makes me smile :) ♡

©hyunjins-orange-slice-too i do not give permission for this work or any of my work to be translated, copied, or reposted.

[susitseart]

Our Heart.

Made of us.

Together, it’s whole. And so are we.

Separated, it’s broken. And we are nothing.

Only love can form this heart. A love that can exist in many forms for us. As platonic or romantic. As lighter or deeper.

But maybe we’re talking about true love, when the soul of another touches our soul. When our soul touches the soul of another.

This mutual touch implies unconditional understanding and acceptance. A sense of affection and belonging. A shared wish that this lonely world wouldn’t be so lonely for us anymore.

And when our souls accept each other as their own, something wondrous happens.

The other becomes our counterpart. Another side of ourselves.

Vital to us. Or so we are willing to swear. For one’s bliss is our bliss, and one’s pain is our pain.

It makes us whole. Makes our heart whole. When we are together with the one we love.

But once a heart is formed, it can also get broken.

The halves of the heart can grow apart. The halves of the heart can betray each other. The halves of the heart can realize that this heart should never have existed.

When one half of the heart hurts the other, the heart becomes cracked.

When the heart becomes cracked enough, it breaks.

And then there’s heart no more.

That’s when our soul also detaches from the other’s soul. It can hurt us deeply. Even somehow permanently.

It may be the worst pain we ever feel.

But sometimes it can be good. Sometimes growing apart or being torn apart is good. It’s good, if we need it. If sharing a common heart with another has become toxic for us.

It’s true that when this happens, we drift back into lonely darkness. It’s true that maybe the fear of the dark has held our broken, toxic hearts together for too long.

But after all, we are lucky. Lucky because nothing in our lifetime is final. Not even the darkness or pain.

Everything is temporary. We as well.

That is why we are lucky if we love, or ever have been able to love.

It may be the most wondrous thing we can ever experience.

- - - - - - - - - - -

Is your heart whole or broken?

- - - - - - - - - - -

Right now, my heart is whole. Maybe a little cracked here and there, because many years have passed. But whole and strong nonetheless.�

Love means a lot to me. The fact that my soul can and is able to connect with someone else's soul feels more than I dared to hope for in this lonely world. Almost like a privilege. Because so many are alone in this world.

Love is like a blessing and a curse. I know it's not for everyone, and it doesn't have to be.

The main thing is that each of us strives to be as happy as possible in our own way.

That's why I hope that all those who long for love in this lonely world will eventually find someone to share their soul with and form a common heart with.

Also. A few more thoughts on a broken heart.�

If my heart, our heart, was torn in two for some reason, I would be scared. Of course I would, after so many years. I would be lost and desperate for a long time.

But while writing this story, I realized that despite the pain, I might make it. Eventually.

Even though my heart is strong and whole right now, it feels comforting to know that even the worst wouldn't be the end of the world. It wouldn't be. Because few things are the actual end of the world, even if it often feels like it.

We will make it. Because we are often stronger than we can imagine.

We'll be fine. Whether our hearts are whole, in danger of breaking, or broken.

Happy Valentine's Day friends ❤ I wanted to post these little Patreon illustrations for you as a gift today. It's a privilege to have you here with me. More times than you know, you have taken away my loneliness and given my life a purpose. And for that I am very grateful.

I hope that this and each day has been great for you 🐺💜

[grimesve1l]

First time for everything

Read previous part here

Summary: Rafe takes Y/n on her first date

Warnings: Swearing

It's been a few days since Rafe spent the night with Y/n but they've still talked. This morning Y/n had woken up to an apple pay notification and a text from Rafe telling her to get her nails done and be ready by seven. The message made her smile as she got out of bed and headed to the kitchen.

"What you smiling for?" Barry asked from the couch. "Nothing" Y/n said as she started to make breakfast. "Mhm." Barry replied not believing her. "That code for country club?" he adds. "Maybe." she says cracking an egg in the pan. "Y'all dating now or sum?" he asks as he scrolls on his phone. "No, but we do have a date later." Y/n replies.

This makes Barry turn and look at her. "Y'all have a date?" he says. "Yeah. Why are you so shocked?" Y/n asks as she continues cooking. "You two are making each other soft as hell. Back on the mainland you'd be playing five guys at the same time and none of them ever knew it." Barry says.

"And Rafe ain't all that different either he be playing all them kook girls. Now you talking bout y'all got a date. Barry says in disbelief. "I guess we've both had a change of heart. Y/n says shrugging while fixing her and Barry's plates. She puts the plates on the table in the living room and sits beside him.

They continue talking as they eat their breakfast. Once Y/n finishes she takes a shower and gets ready to get her nails done. "You know a good nail salon around here?" she asks Barry. "Why would I know that?" Barry says giving her a confused look. "I don't you live here don't you?" she responds sarcastically as she looks it up on her phone.

"Whatever I found one." she says heading for the door. "Bye B, don't miss me too much!" she says as she leaves. She makes her way to a nail salon that's not to far but still far enough to be way nicer than what she would've found near her. She walks up to the lady at the front desk and asks if she can do a walk in. The lady looks her up and done but agrees regardless.

Y/n doesn't miss the way people in the salon look at her but she couldn't care less. Rafe gave her money to spend and she was gonna spend it somewhere nice. She eventually gets sat down and the nail tech starts working on her nails. Y/n decides to go with simple long dark red nails.

"I love that color." A girl beside her says. "Oh thanks yours are cute too. Y/n responds. "I'm Sarah. Are you new here I haven't seen you around here before." Y/n thinks for a moment wondering why the girls name sounds familiar before responding "I'm Y/n and yeah I just recently moved here. I'm getting my nails done for a date tonight." "Ooo who is he maybe I know him. Sarah says.

"He's a friend of my cousins, they do business together." Y/n says. "Oh so he has money." Sarah replies jokingly. "I mean he is paying today." Y/n says with a smile. "Okay!" Sarah says as they both laugh. As the nail tech finishes Sarah's nail she tells Y/n to give her her phone so she can put in her instagram.

"That way you can tell me how your date goes." she says before leaving. Y/n finishes not long after and pays with the money Rafe sent. She makes her way back home and relaxes with Barry until it's time to start getting ready.

She's not sure where Rafe is taking her so she goes with a simple dress with lace and some black kitten heels. She just finished spraying her setting spray when Barry calls her from the living room. "I'm coming" she's says as she almost trips down the hall in her heels.

She sees Rafe standing by the door waiting for her. "Alright I want her back by midnight and if I find out you hurt her ima whoop your ass." Barry jokes as Y/n moves to stand beside Rafe. "Shut up Barry." she laughs. "I'm just fucking with you but i'm serious about that last part. You hurt her I'll fuck you up country club."

"Trust me man she's in good hands." Rafe says. Barry just nods as the the two head outside. "Bye Barry, love you!" Y/n says walking to the truck with Rafe where he opens the door for her. He walks around the other side and gets in. He starts the truck and pulls off.

"So where ya takin me?" Y/n asks leaning over the center console to be closer to Rafe. "You'll see." he says looking her way. "At least gimme a hint." she pleads. "You're gonna wanna take your shoes off when we get there." he says. "What?" she asks giving him a confused look.

"Just wait we're almost there." he says while chuckling at her confused expression. Eventually Rafe parks in a secluded part of a beach. "Okay, you gotta trust me. Alright?" he says looking says pulling out a blindfold. "What are tying to do with that?" she asks raising her eyebrows at him. He laughs at her insinuation before telling her he wants to suprise her.

She lets him tie it around her eyes and help her out of the truck. The two start walking and Y/n almost trips again. "I told you you'd wanna take your shoes off." Rafe laughs. Eventually they stop walking and Rafe takes her blindfold off. "What do you think?" Rafe asks as she looks at the picnic he had setup for them.

"Oh my God, I love it! How'd you know I like these?" she asks pointing to one of the snacks he laid out. "I had Barry tell me a bunch of your favorite snacks and stuff." he replies. She turns around and hugs him "This is the sweetest thing anyone's ever done for me." she says with a smile. He smiles back at her before he tells her to sit with him.

They sit side by side and watch the waves before Y/n gets an idea. She reaches out and grabs a chocolate covered strawberry. "Open." she tells Rafe as she goes to feed it to him. He takes a bite before saying "It's really good." "Is it?" she's asks before taking a bite of her own. "Oh yeah, these are mine now." she says while laughing before grabbing another and taking a bite.

Rafe laughs as he watches her. "You got something right here." he says pointing to the corner of his lip. "Do I?" she's asks and he nods. "Here lemme get it" he says using his thumb to wipe it off. This gives Y/n another idea. "You got something too lemme just..." she says as she leans in and presses her lips against Rafes.

He brings his hand up to her cheek and kisses her back. The kiss is sweet and simple unlike any kiss either of them have had before. She pulls away and giggles at the sight of her lipstick on Rafes lips. "What?" he asks smiling at her. She uses her phone to show him as she continues to laugh.

He laughs as well as sees himself. "It suits you." she says. "Yeah? Then give me some more." he says moving to press another kiss to her lips. Y/n smiles into the kiss as she puts her hand into his hair and gives it a gentle tug. Rafe pulls back "How does it look now?" he asks. "A little smudged." she replies as she wipes it away.

The two continue watching the waves and enjoying the snacks Rafe had brought. Eventually the sun sets and they lay back on the blanket. Rafe has his arm around Y/n's shoulder while they look at the stars. "Im so glad I moved here." Y/n says. "Me too." Rafe says as he presses a kiss to her forehead.

A/n: omg they're so cute i love them. anyways hope y'all enjoyed the fluff!!