#except a small plate of leftovers

[imjustconfuseddd]

.

[mellowyellow236]

How would the TWST boys act when they had a crush on the Reader/Yuu?

All are meant to be interpreted as romantic except for Ortho, who is a wingman for his brother in his part. Some characters might be a bit OOC. Reader is GN but will be referred to as pretty/beautiful. Minor TW for Rollo having yandere tendencies.

If anyone has anything to add or any questions, please leave an ask or comment! Requests are open if anyone wants :) Everything is under the cut

Heartslabyul:

Riddle Rosehearts - 

Not the best person to have liking you. 

He’s not mean or anything he just... Has no idea what to do with himself at any time. 

And it’s very obvious. 

He thinks that if he’s very, very specific about you following the rules, you’ll praise him and thus that’ll mean you’ll like him. 

He’s… Trying his best. 

“Off With Your Head!” You felt the metal clamp around your neck as you heard the echo of the words. Turning around, you saw the small redhead with his hands on his hips, face already flushing. He grabbed the drink you were holding, the surface of the coffee moving as he pulled away. “On a Tuesday, one can only drink lemon tea past 3:14 in the afternoon!” He huffed, before using his free hand to pull you away. “If you don’t know the rules, I’ll just have to teach them to you. Come on, there’s some tea in the garden. I have a book of rules I could read to you.” 

Trey Clover - 

He’s housewife material, he’ll bake for you 

“Any boy can be babygirl but it takes a man to be a single  mother” vibes 

I never know what to say to him he’s just a normal person who likes cooking 

On a complete side note if you ever go to NYC, go to Alice’s Tea Cup. It’s this tea house that’s kind of close to Broadway, at least last time I went pre-COVID, and it’s so good. I have the recipe book from there and the pumpkin scones are the best. 

You walked into the Hearslabyul kitchen, smiling at the smell of apple pie. Trey was baking, and the dish had just come out of the oven. He smiled, but then slapped your hand away when you tried to grab it. “Not yet, it needs to cool first. If you really want something to eat, we have leftover blueberry scones in the fridge.” He said, looking away to get the serving plate. You touched it anyway, pulling back as you burned yourself. He looked at you and sighed, taking you by the arm to get an ice cube on it. “Burnt hand teaches best, I suppose... It shouldn’t be that bad of a burn. If it gets any worse, I’ll  put some cream on it...” He said, before kissing the burn. “And a get-well-soon kiss, of course.” 

Cater Diamond - 

He’s a silly boy, but also an angsty one 

If he genuinely likes you, he’d probably try really, really hard to be the “perfect guy” 

And also to try to hide how into you he is because he’s scared you’ll leave him 

Those moments when his guard drops are probably the sweetest, though 

“Ah, that was fun! Well, Cay-cay’s all yours for the rest of the day. What do you wanna do now?” Cater said, having just turned off his livestream. You were behind his phone smiling at him. You were going to recommend getting a drink at the Monstro lounge, but saw how tired he was. He smiled at you when you asked to just hang out with him at home. “You do, huh? Well, there’s a new movie we could watch.” When you raised an eyebrow, asking if it was for Magicam, he just chuckled and shook his head. “Nope. A remake of an old classic. I want to watch it with you. I’m sure that you’d be able to make anything good, just by being there.” 

Ace Trapolla & Deuce Spade- 

They’re together because I feel like you can’t make one fall for you without the other. It’s a ‘buy one get one free’ deal. 

Ace would be a nightmare to have in love with you. 

He’d try his best to flirt, but mainly through really bad dirty jokes and pickup lines. 

Or, by inserting himself into your life as much as possible in an attempt to force himself into a place of importance for you 

Duece, on the other hand, would be an angel. 

He attempts to be an old-fashioned gentleman, like holding open doors and getting you flowers. 

Are those roses from Heartslabyul’s garden? Maybe. Just don’t snitch on him to Riddle. 

You weren't entirely sure how you got yourself into hiding in a cabinet with Ace and Duece, but here you were, avoiding the Riddle currently screaming his head off about how someone had stolen the roses currently in your arms. You had a hand over Duece’s mouth as he muttered apologies, trying to get him to shut up, before Ace leaned in and whispered “Hey, Prefect?” You gave him a look, to which he said, “Are you from Tennessee? Because you’re the only ten I see!” He asked, voice rising in volume as he tried not to laugh, to which Duece slapped him on the arm and cried, “Don’t be so loud! You’re going to get us caught!” Ace only laughed harder, until the door to the cabinet opened. You took a dash out of there with your roses, the two bumbling baffoons behind you, the yelling housewarden already collaring them. 

Savanaclaw: 

Leona Kingscholar - 

He’s a fun man 

Well, not really, but his attempts are very fun for Ruggie. 

He’ll just drag you away and force you to cuddle with him. 

You’ll probably end up cutting class, but do you really care when it’s with the clingy lion man? 

Throwing money at you with no regard to the amount he gives or the reason he does it is the other attempt. 

If he can prove that he’s better at taking care of you than the lizard, he can win this round. 

And get a better lover than his brother, but that’s the secondary goal. 

You were just walking in the garden when you felt someone trip you, causing you to land half in a bush. Before you could turn around to tell off the person responsible, they grabbed your waist and pulled you to them on the floor. “It’s nap time, Herbivore. Shut up and let me sleep.” When you told him that he was the one who invited you here and you’d have to skip your next class to stay, he just huffed and rolled his eyes at you, pushing a pouch in your hand. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever. If you’ll be like that, take this and you can get whatever you want in your lunch period. Fair deal if you’ll stay.” 

Ruggie Bucchi - 

Would never ask you out on a date, he’s scared. 

The best treatment that you get before he’s sure you’re not going to be mean to him is that he doesn’t pawn your gifts off for cash. 

Afterward, he’ll be a bit more affectionate 

Maybe even give you some of his food... 

Also, hyena courting stuff; Shadowing a potential partner, taking a step forward and then taking a step back, and other stuff like that. 

You heard the laughing of the beastman before you were able to see his face. He had been following you around for most of the day, but every time he’d take a few steps forward, he’d taken a few back after a second. Now, though, he had his head on your shoulder. “Hello, Prefect. Look what I got!” He said, showing you a donut he had probably gotten from Sam’s. “You want a bite?” He asked, when you nodded and took a bite he bit onto the other end, giggling away. “What, was that really enough to fluster you, Prefect? Shishishi, I should try doing this to you again.”

Jack Howl - 

Jack asks you outright if you feel the same way he does, especially if you two are friends. 

Finally! A confession! 

He doesn’t want to make your friendship weird, so he wants to tell you that it’s happened and either find a way to get over you or have a happy relationship. 

Very much “Worst they can say is no, best they can say is yes” kind of man 

Aside from that, very loyal and sweet to you before he realizes that he likes you 

Also, a pinch of an old-fashioned gentleman in him 

Jack had called you out earlier that day to go on an evening walk with him, and so here you were. You were in the mountains, walking at a fairly slow pace. You neared a big tree as the sun set, and Jack took a deep breath. He took your hand, ears on high alert and tail looking undecided between if it wanted to cower beneath his legs or wag excitedly, and said, “Prefect, I like you very much. Please go on a date with me.”

Octavinelle: 

Azul Ashengrotto - 

Oh no 

He has two moods when it comes to the person he likes; Annoyingly showoffish and annoyingly terrified of you. 

Somehow, it’s sometimes both. 

He would talk very loudly about how well he was doing as a businessman his contracts and how much money he’d made. 

And then you touch him and he just stops functioning.

“Oh, look, Jade! Another new high this month! We might even be able to expand!” He cried, glancing at you again and again. This had been happening every time you visited Monstro Lounge; A song and dance of Azul fishing for compliments that he seemed to hate, if him leaving the room every time you complimented him had anything to say about it. This time, you grabbed his wrist as you spoke, telling him how he was doing a very good job. You watched him turn a shade of red and blue, stiffening up as he muttered out a response. “Thank you... I will keep your response in mind.” The moment you let him go, Jade stepped in to talk to you as the octopus-mer ran away once more. 

Jade Leech - 

As the more put together of the two moray eels here, he gets the ‘classier’ side of the coin. 

Moray courting rituals of wrapping together is often described as a dance, so he’ll try to dance with you. 

Aside from that, I can see him subtly teasing you about yawning in front of him, even if you don’t understand why. 

And feeding you plenty of mushroom dishes. 

You were stuffed, that was for sure. Jade had invited you to Octavinelle a while ago, and now you were here, eating various mushroom dishes like your life depended on it. He was smiling, another one placed in front of you. “A shiitake and crab stir fry is next. Surely, you have room for more?” He asked, a small smile on his lips. He chuckled when you yawned, “Isn’t it a bit late in the season for that?” When you asked what he meant, he only shook his head and brought a filled fork to your lips. “Fufu. Just focus on eating for now, Prefect.” 

Floyd Leech - 

Hehe funny unhinged eel man  

Moray eels like to cuddle, so prepare to be squeezed by him 

Also, yawning or ‘gaping’ (Opening his mouth really wide) at you. 

Honestly, I don’t have a lot of thoughts on him, he’s just a silly little guy. 

“Shrimpy!” You heard cried behind you, Floyd flopping himself over you from behind. He yawned and pushed his head over your shoulder as he spread himself over you so his weight was all on you to hold up. “Whatcha doing?” He asked, smiling at you. Once you answered that you were on your way to class, he frowned, wrapping his arms around you before lifting you like a cat. “That’s boring! Common, Shrimpy, we’re going to find something fun to do!” 

Scarabia: 

Kalim Al-Asim - 

For Kalim, I feel as if the second he knows he likes you, you will know he likes you because he’ll tell you outright. 

Before he knows he likes you, everyone else will know he likes you. 

Running up to you at every opportunity, constantly complimenting you, talking about you to everyone who will listen, etc. 

Much like the other rich kids who aren’t used to being genuinely wanted for themselves and not their money in this school, Kalim will throw expensive gifts at you in an attempt to gain your favor. 

“Prefect!!” You heard someone shout, running at you from across the field of the flying lesson you were in. “There you are! I’ve got something for you!” He said, smiling all the while. He kissed you on the cheek, and then reached into his bag, pulling out a golden bracelet. Before you had time to refuse, because it was the middle of a class where it could easily be lost or because of the outrageous price tag, he spoke up. “And now we match! Just like twins, see?” He had kept his ones on this time, and you couldn’t help but smile as he was beaming up at you. 

Jamil Viper - 

Jamil might not be able to show off often, but he does try to do so for you. 

You’re busy and can’t cook? He’ll get you some food! 

You’ve torn a hole in your gym clothes? He’s got a sewing kit on him!

Your homework is about to kill your GPA because Crewel seems to hate having breaks? He’s your guy!

All in all, he attempts to woo you like a mixture of a 1950s housewife and the stereotype of tutor love interests in media. 

“-And that’s how to make a basic healing tonic. Any questions?” He asked. When you shook your head, he gave a small smile. “That’s good. I’ll help you clean up in here, and then I’ve got something for you back at Scarabia.” His hand brushed yours as he helped you clear up the papers that had been scattered around as you studied. “You mentioned wanting to try foods from the scalding sands, so I got a bunch of ingredients. I’ll make you a wonderful meal if you’d like.”

Pomefiore: 

Vil Schoenheit - 

Much like Riddle, you must deal with him being much more annoying as soon as he likes you. 

Just this time, he’s annoying you about your self-care. 

You don’t take multi-hour spa baths in the crummy bath at Ramshackle? Well, now you do at the much better baths in Pomefiore every week. 

You don’t have a skincare routine that takes up half your morning? Yes, you do. 

You will never be in better condition physically but he will continue finding new ways to push you. 

He does it out of love because he wants you to always look and feel your best. 

You opened the door to Ramshackle, looking at a mildly annoyed Vil. He grabbed you before you could protest, leading you away from your dorm. “Come on, Potato. I’m taking you to Pomefiore, and you’re going to get a makeover.” When you asked why, the third year just rolled his eyes. “You have bags under your eyes, and they seem to be from lack of sleep or stress, if your appearance when you came here was anything to say about it. So, I’m getting you a spa day and will teach you how to take care of yourself better. If you still can’t, I’ll just have to take you for spa time more often.” 

Rook Hunt - 

Rook is a walking love letter. 

Constantly waxing poetics, and talking about how beautiful you are. 

You forget something at home and the next thing you know you’ve got an arrow shot next to you and whatever you need as well as a heartfelt note is in a pouch tied to it. 

And he’s just... There. 

All the time. 

He’s in your walls. 

You sighed, having forgotten your potions textbook for the third time this week. Truly, your memory was your own worst- What was that? A thud had come from right next to you; An arrow with a paper gift bag tied onto it through a deep purple ribbon had been shot into a tree, going right past your head. When you looked into it, there was your missing textbook, as well as a note from the giver. ‘Dearest Trickster, it is a wonder to be in your presence. I do ask, please grace me with those eyes to my face. If only I had those, I would be happy to deliver you your books for the rest of my life.’ When you looked around, you saw him; The third year excitedly waving at you from the rooftop of the school. 

Epel Felmeir - 

He tries so hard to show you how awesome cool and manly he is. 

Has the same vibes as a child showing their parents how good they are at sports. 

“Hey Mom, look!” *Kicks a soccer ball and falls flat on his face* 

He’s doing the best he can with the skills he has, give the little guy some credit 

“Hey, Prefect! Did ya see that goal I made at the end?” Epel said, having just finished a Spelldrive game. He had come up to you as soon as he was done, and you smiled at him, nodding and telling him that he had done well. He puffed his chest out at that, looking like the cat who got the cream. “Of course I did! I’ll even give ya a ride on my broom after our next practice, so you can see what it looks like when ya playing. That’s be fun, right?” He said, smiling at you widely. 

Ignihyde: 

Idia Shroud - 

Scared boy 

Very, very scared boy 

He will try to run from you any time he’s nearby.

If you manage to corner him, expect him to be very flustered. 

Maybe you’ll get a sentence or two out of him if you keep trying... 

Idia had been avoiding you for the past few days, and you had no idea why. So here you were, using the key card ortho gave you to work your way into the room of the hermit. He was hunched over his desk, eyes closed and breathing steady. His monitor was on, so when you walked over, you took the mouse out from him and went to save in his game before you closed it out. He stirred, muttering as he opened his eyes, “One more round, Orthohmysevenitsyouohimsorryicangonow!” He bolted straight up, hair flaming pink as he pushed the swirly chair back and ran out of his own room.

Ortho Shroud - 

His big brother’s best wingman 

Will come up to you and talk about how great his brother is 

If needed, pulls up diagrams and chats like he’s giving a PowerPoint presentation on his brother’s ability to date you 

“Prefect!” You heard a shout, the younger Shroud brother coming up to you. “I have something that you must see! You are aware of my brother’s affection for you, correct?” When you shook your head, he smiled, pulling up a presentation on his iPad. “That makes this much more difficult, but very well! As you can see here, one’s heartbeat increases when one meets with the object of one’s affections. This can be caused by a flight or fight response, which my brother does not usually suffer from when over a call with another. However, when your voice is there, his heart rate spikes dramatically! This means that I have reason to believe that he is in love with you. In this presentation, I will-”

Diasonia: 

Malleus Dracona - 

He is going to try to woo you with gems 

And probably other dragon-courting rituals 

I think that out of the beastmen and fae, he understands the least that you don’t get their courting rituals. 

By the name he realizes that you don’t think you’re dating he’s already picked out the names of your kids. 

“Child of Man?” You heard the familiar voice of Hornton call out to you in your garden. You smiled, turning around to face him. “It’s nice to see you again. I have a gift for you.” He said, holding out a golden necklace with emeralds sprinkled in. When you tried to refuse the gift, saying it was too expensive to get ‘just because’ he only shook his head and put it around your neck. “All the stars in the sky would be too little to give you, and every jewel in my horde pales in comparison to your beauty. If only you wear this, then you will surely compare to my father when you take your place at my side. Although, I believe you already do in both appearance and wit.”

Lilia Vanrouge - 

Old fae bat man 

He flirts with you, but it ends up being either too old-timey or too fae for you to understand 

For the old-timey side; According to Wikipedia, “Gifts accompanied courtship in the form of a man proving coins, trinkets or clothing to the woman he is trying to woo.” So, he gets you various gifts, like coins, jewelry that he has, and whatever else you’re interested in. 

I assume that because he’s such a long-lived fae, they range from ‘I found this stone in the garden’ to ‘Here’s a 1000-year-old artifact capable of destroying the world if you hold onto it wrong’

For the fae side; Male bats court by making various noises (screaming, honking, singing), flicking their wings/showing off how good they are at flying, and grooming the other party. I’m interpreting this as singing to you, playing with your hair, and trying to impress you in flight class. 

Also, him humming old love songs to you and playing with your hair I can’t-

Lilia was sitting next to you on the couch, as you flipped through various movies on the television he had in his room. You were in his arms, with his hands in your hair, braiding wherever he could get enough hair to do so. “Hey, Beastie?” He chuckled as you sighed at the lack of familiar movies. “I really do care for you quite a bit. Also, there’s this one Halloween movie that came out a year or two ago. Terror is Trending, or something. We could watch that.” He laughed again and started humming. It seemed to be a classical piece. When you asked what he was singing, he said “Dichterliebe, Robert Schumann’s Op. 48., movement 11.” He smiled at you, and then laughed at your confusion. “Just put the movie on already, Beastie.” 

Silver “Vanrouge” - 

The meeting scene from Sleeping Beauty 

That’s it, that’s my idea 

Due to the lack of inspiration, he gets a slightly longer drabble, though? 

You were walking in the woods, pausing at a shallow river, singing to yourself. It wasn’t long until you heard a horse trotting towards you. You turned to face it, and Silver smiled as you did. “It’s nice to see you again, Prefect.” He said, getting off his horse to stand next to the river with you. He looked at you, gently humming the same tune as you were. He reached a hand out to pull you in, one hand in yours and the other on your waist. “Do you know how to dance?” He asked, already starting the movements. When you shook, your head, he laughed, spinning you around. “I’ll teach you. Copy my movements, but backward... 1 2 3, 1 2 3...” He started to dance with you, slowly going from repeating the pattern to singing lightly. He was softly smiling, staring at you even as your eyes were focused on your feet. However, it didn’t take long before his horse seemed to tire of this, pushing the two of you in. “Samson!” Silver cried out, now soaking wet and a bit banged up from shielding you from the fall. “And after I promised you an extra bucket of oats to come out here... No carrots for you tonight.” He spoke, looking at you as you asked him why he had done so. Silver only smiled and responded, “There was something strange about you, and I heard your voice earlier. You’re almost too beautiful to be real. I thought it was some mysterious being, a wood sprite or a fae. Truly lovely either way.”

Sebek Zigvolt - 

He tries to protect you like the knight that he aspires to be 

He will infodump to you about Malleous or Brair Valley or something else of the sort if you let him 

Also, he’s half fae, which means fae/crocodile courting rituals. 

Crocodiles mainly bump snouts as far as I can tell, so expect many boops from him. 

Also, piggyback rides and playful nips if you get close enough to him 

“And that is why Wakasama is the greatest mage in our time!” Sebek finished, still carrying you around the school. When you tried again to tell him it wasn’t needed, Sebek scoffed. “Foolish Human! You said that your leg was tired after running in flight class, and so you must rest your legs lest you injure yourself!” He said, bopping his nose against yours. “Besides, you must know by now that as a friend of Wakasama, it is my job to defend you as I would him! In not doing so, I would be committing a sin worse than just letting you walk by yourself! As such, I will accompany you to and from class from now on. Be grateful, Human!” 

RSA+NBC: 

Che’nya - 

Che’nya will try to pull as many pranks on you as he can  

Appearing in random places, taking little things from you, and other things showing up in random places you never put them.  

All around being a little menace and trying to make your daily life as annoying as possible 

You sighed, looking towards the floating smile next to you. It laughed, as you held up the empty pencil case, asking it how he expected you to be able to do your homework now. He only chuckled, the rest of his head and shoulders appearing. “Stay pawsitive, Prefect! No need to be so catty!” You rolled your eyes, to which the boy simply snickered and rubbed his head against your cheek. “Come on, my puns are purrfect!” He pulled a pencil out of seemingly thin air, letting you take it from him. “And I’ve got plenty of pens back at RSA if you’d like to take a weekend trip to see me.” 

Neige Leblanche - Kinda angsty, but not much

He’s a sweet guy first and foremost, and his having a crush on you reflects that. 

He buys you flowers, takes you on walks in nature, romantic stuff like that. 

Maybe watching cheesy old movies with you and cuddling 

He wants to be your friend before he dates you, though, and won’t make a move until after you can see what life would be like if you were dating him considering how famous he is. 

He needs to make sure that you’re comfortable with the fame you’ll gain, and that you love him for more than just his popularity. 

Neige sighed, biting his lower lips. He was situated in your arms on the floor of his dorm room, what you’d define as a cheesy romcom on the TV. The most interesting part was the man going through his DM’s next to you. He snuggled into you a bit more as you asked him what was wrong, to which he said “Just... Hate comments and stuff. They’re really mean sometimes. Saying stuff...” He took a deep breath again, and melted against you. “Thank you for treating me like I’m a normal person. It means... So much to me. I... Care for you so much.” 

Rollo Flamme - Rollo's got yandere tendency's

Unfortunately, I can in no way see Rollo having a light crush on anyone 

For him, I imagine it’s an ‘all or nothing’ situation 

So, you’ll end up with a very obsessive and objectively evil wizard trying to win your heart by any means necessary 

But this is not the post for that, so he’s getting toned down to fit into a little drabble  

“Mon amour, how are you feeling?” Rollo asked you, coming into the area that you were lying in. You had been resting in the infirmary since coming back from the destruction he caused, and he sat on the edge of the bed. You turned away from him, closing your eyes and saying that you had no desire to speak to him. Rollo sighed, “Please, my dear? I am begging you, just talk to me.” You shook your head, but he took your hand and kissed your knuckles anyway. “Then I will wait for you to want to speak to me again. However, I do ask that it be soon. I cannot imagine my life without you, my dear angel, and I do not intend to live without you forever.” 

[vampzity]

neglectful | FL

“It always goes like this, could’ve predicted it. I’m so naive to think you loved me for me.” — goddess, laufey

pairing: bf! felix x reader

after a rough disagreement with your boyfriend, you can’t help but feel like a terrible parter to him. he does his best to go out his way to show you you’re more than enough but unbeknownst to him, it was already too late.

[warnings]: slight arguing? self-consciousness. this is far from fluff i fear…! angst only hehe

word count: 1.5k

“You just don’t seem to care! All you’ve been doing is pushing me aside and I’m tired.”

You stormed out of the house, completely forgetting the lunch that Felix had packed for you. You’ve had enough of the excuses, of the silence whenever you were right, the “ifs ands and buts.” Felix stood there in disbelief, your plate of breakfast still in his hand as he hoped you would just come back through the door.

Except you wouldn’t, not this time.

There was going to be no more, “letting him off the hook.” Every time you argued, you’d let him have the last word— you’d forgive him so easily and let it go as if it wouldn’t continue again in the future. You were exhausted and you just wanted him to listen.

Felix wasn’t always this way, oh no. He was a completely different person back then, but it just left you with the many wonders of what had changed. When did he become so cold, so distant and why? For some odd reason he didn’t want to talk about his feelings toward you and that bothered you. Relationships should be all about being open with each other, communicating.. he was doing the exact opposite.

The cycle was the same, he’s cold, he’s distant, you comment about it, he brushes it off as nothing and then you argue. With him moving on like it was nothing hours later. It hurt you to see someone who you still cherish so deeply, switch a flip on you unexpectedly.

Felix placed your plate on the table, staring with a blank expression. There wasn’t a single day that you’d go without eating breakfast, especially not before work. It shouldn’t have. bothered him, but it left a heavy weight on his shoulders that he didn’t like. He sat at the table, pushing the food on his own plate around with a fork as his mind raced.

Was he really as neglectful as you made it out to be?

He glanced over to your plate across the table, full and missing your presence. An empty feeling washed over him— it was odd to be eating breakfast without you, as it was something you two have done every morning for the last 2 years. For once, there were left overs. Your untouched leftovers.

A frown painted his face as he got up to clear the table. He searched through the cabinets for a container to save your food in, but to his surprise there was none. How far in the gutter was his mind? Did you ever mention anything about needing more containers before?

Felix glanced around the kitchen, his eyes catching a small list against the fridge. He walked over to it and pulled it down, scanning it for a moment. Milk, eggs, cereal, and there it was.

Storage containers.

“A grocery list, for me?” He tilted his head in confusion, his eyes catching the date of the note.

1/03/25.

That was nearly a whole week and a half ago. A sighed escaped him as he imagined the many times you had told him to bring back groceries on his way home, or simply go and get them on his days off.

It all made sense now— why you came home furiously carrying multiple bags of groceries the other day. Why you gave him the cold shoulder whenever he cooked for you. He was neglecting you without noticing and didn’t even bother to see the signs you threw his way. Felix’s heart sank at the realization, feeling horrible for the way he let you feel. He loved you, he always did, however it was clear you felt that he didn’t anymore. The last thing he wanted was for you to feel less than enough.

How could he make it up to you?

— ✧⁂✬ —

You pulled into the driveway of your shared home, groaning as you turned off the car. You sat in your seat for a minute, contemplating if you even wanted to walk inside— it’s not like you’d be greeted with any warm welcome. A useless argument seemed more likely to occur the that at this point, and you weren’t exactly looking forward to it.

You got out of your car, locking it as you walked over to the door. You fumbled with the keys for a moment before the door swung open in front of you. Startled you jumped back, being greeted with a guilty look from Felix. You looked at him for a second, before brushing past him to take off your coat and shoes.

“Can we talk?”

Felix closed the door, trailing behind you as you switched into your house slippers. You ignored him, walking over to the kitchen to spot a small plate of brownies on the table. You raised your eyebrow, giving him a quick glance only to be met with a half smile. Sending the cold shoulder his way, you grabbed a drink out of the fridge and walked toward the stairs.

It’s been months since he’s made you anything, let alone brownies. Though to make brownies all of a sudden, especially knowing you were upset with him? It was unusual.

“Hey,” he grabbed your hand, tugging on it slightly. You turned your head to look at him, sighing as you pulled your hand out from his grasp.

“Please talk to me, I’m sorry.” he mumbled, searching for even the slightest bit of light in your eyes.

“Talk about what, Felix? I’ve said more than enough to you yet time and time again you don’t care. Why waste my breath?”

He gave you a small frown, accepting the harsh truth that you had every right to be upset with him. All he wanted to do was fix things and make you happy— was it too late for that?

“I’m just, I feel horrible. I spent so much time in my work, I neglected you and.. that’s not right.”

He looked away from your cold gaze, picking at his chipped nail polish. You sighed heavily, turning away from him and walking back up the steps to your shared bedroom. You dug through the closet and pulled out a suitcase, soon fumbling through the closet and drawers for clothes. Felix watched from the doorway, eyebrows furrowed.

“What are you doing?”

You ignored him once again, walking into the bathroom to grab things and soon placing them in the stuffed luggage. You closed the suitcase, pulling it off the bed. Felix walked into the room, grabbing the suitcase from your hands and pulling it to him.

“Hey, give me that back!” You tugged at the handle that he held a firm grip on. “I’m serious Felix, I’m done here.”

“So you’re just going to leave like that? After everything? Where are you even going to go?”

His questions felt like knives, turning and twisting inside of you. Still, you ignored them, yanking the suitcase from his hold and walking down the steps. You changed back into your sneakers, Felix standing a good distance away from you. You glanced over to him, watching as tears escaped his eyes.

“I don’t know what you want me to say to you. Brownies doesn’t fix anything, especially this and you know that.” You put on your jacket, pulling the car keys out from the pocket.

“I’ve fought, I’ve communicated, I even thrown hints at you and still you pushed them aside as nothing. Can’t you see it Felix? I loved you more than I loved myself, more than you even loved me.”

Felix stood there still, his face covered in tears as he wiped them away. He couldn’t respond to you, he wouldn’t. There was nothing for him to say when you were right. He had to bring himself to see the harsh reality of it all— he hurt you, put you last, every feeling you had at this moment was valid.

He wasn’t always cold, he was never the cold mean guy toward you, and the tears may have proven it, but a part of you couldn’t bear with it anymore. He showed you his true colors without a warning. He was more passionate about his work than he was of your relationship, and it tore you apart.

“Felix..” your voice broke, tears rolling down your face as you walked up to him.

You held his hands in your own, bringing them up to your face before you placed a soft kiss against them. You gave him a small frown as you wiped the tears from his eyes.

“I love you, but I deserve better. I’m sorry.”

His heart shattered at your words. He subconsciously pulled you into a hug, squeezing you softly as if he didn’t want to let go. You ran your fingers through his hair, kissing his head gently before pulling yourself away from his hug.

“Please don’t go, I can do better. I promise.” His doe eyes met your own, making you look away.

You walked back to your suitcase, holding it tightly as you made your way to the door. You stopped suddenly, taking in a deep breath before looking back at his fragile gaze. It hurt you to see him like this, but that was only part of the extent that he ever made you feel. He may not ever know how you truly felt.

“You’re too late.”

You shut the door behind you, tears streaming down your cheeks as you made your way to the car. The worst part was over— at least for you, unlucky for Felix, it was just beginning.

uh, i’m sorry for this LMAO. part 2 maybe?

taglist: @dvrktvnnel @scarfac3 @h4untedgrl @jjongibears @rvereri

@kittykat-25 @sundaybossanova @yyaurii @hwasddeongbyeoli @vnessalau

@tiredlittlevirgo @roomsofangel @joonezra @honeyhwaaa @minghaoslatina

[nagislemontea]

Being ASLs Sister: Headcanons.

Ace and Sabo are still older, Luffy is still the youngest.

Takes place when they’re all much younger.

Ace, your oldest brother, whose words don’t match his actions. He may say things that would make you think you’re bothering him, but his actions remind you that you are truly his one and only little (baby to him) sister.

Ace, who notices what food you like and places more of that food onto your plate. He still eats like he’s eating for three at once, but he’ll make an exception for your favourite food by giving a piece or two.

Ace, who's afraid of you getting hurt, so he does all the hunting. But (unintentionally), this leaves you to do all the chores he left behind.

Ace, who always goes with you into town for groceries, noticing the way your eyes sparkled at an article of clothing you liked. You find that same piece of clothing on your makeshift bed the next day, but you’ll never know it was him. If you asked, he’d tell you it was a gift from Makino.

Sabo, your second oldest brother and your middle child duo, who’s your confidant as much as you are his. You’re the very first person he’s entrusted his background and dreams to. In return, he always makes sure to be your best listener; your biggest supporter; your biggest defender.

Sabo, who stole and ran off with a bowl of ramen for you to try when you couldn’t come to Goa Kingdom with them. If you couldn’t experience something with your brothers, he’ll bring the experience back to you.

Sabo, who’s always a few steps behind you when you join them in the forest. No one can sneak up on you this way, not when he’s always on guard and ready to swing at anything that comes too close.

Sabo, who actually helps you around the hut in the morning so you’re able to go out with them instead of taking on their leftover chores.

Luffy, your one and only younger brother, who you’ve come to adore since his arrival. The one who always lingered by your side even while you washed the dishes, because he wanted a friend in his new home. You were his first friend.

Luffy, who puffs his chest up when he walks in front of you, almost bodyguard-like to ward off the animals in the forest. Not only does he want to be able to protect his older sister, but he wants to appear strong too.

Luffy, who wants to share all of his little findings with you. He’ll enthusiastically show you his beetles; new treasure; a (stupid and silly) new trick he learned from his older brothers. In return, he also gets quite excited when you have something to share with him.

Luffy, who despite still being so young, was the most attuned to your emotions. Who never hesitated in making you smile when he felt a tinge of sadness; who effortlessly made awkward situations more bearable; who understood when you needed help even without knowing the full story.

Your three brothers, who when you had fallen asleep, followed your action soon after. Sabo, who walked off to grab a huge blanket. Ace, who grumbled about you falling asleep in a position that would hurt your neck. Then Luffy, who ran to claim a spot beside you and was the first to fall asleep on your shoulder.

The other two soon followed in tandem. With Ace claiming the last spot beside you with his arms crossed, as Sabo spread the blanket amongst the four of you, before claiming his spot beside Luffy. Before the eldest two fell asleep, they shared a small smile, an unspoken promise between them to protect their younger siblings.

The next morning, the four siblings would be found by Dadan, who almost shed a tear at the display, before telling the other bandits to be quieter so as to not wake up the children.

note: i lowkey starting giving up halfway

[yunhoszn]

horses are still overrated

pairing jeong yunho x f!reader word count 2k genres fluff﹒smut warnings 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, mature language, established relationship, mentions of voyeurism, dirty talk, marking-ish, mutual masturbation, kissing, slight cum eating shhhhh don’t say anything, pet names: baby, babe, princess

summary new relationships always have room for experimenting, and well, you and yunho are no exception.

more ok so i tried doing these in ask format but i didn’t like it so we’re back to our regularly scheduled programming with a little update :P anyway,, this was for this request! it’s meant to be an extension of save a horse, ride a cowboy but can totally be read as a standalone! i kinda strayed from the initial req, but i hope this is still good… it’s still yunho day so <3 ALSO @bro-atz thank u for betaing my love i appreciate u so big!! pls reblog if u enjoyed!

@atzhouse

The few weeks that have passed since you and Yunho have confessed to each other have been nothing short of blissful. 

He makes you feel like you’re soaring, ensuring that your happiness is the top priority. He embraces you in a way that’s not only physical, but emotional too. Like his feelings for you are their own special hug of warmth that envelopes you when you need it most. You could never get tired of him, could never return to your life back home like this summer never happened. 

Because in all honesty, this summer was the best thing that could’ve ever happened to you. 

You have a small smile on your face as you reminisce about the wonderful time you’ve spent here so far, leaning back into the bench on the farmhouse porch. Initially, you were sitting here to openly gawk after Yunho as he rounded up the cattle, but now you were too giddy to pay attention to that. You don’t notice him walking towards you directly, Yeoreum tailing behind him. 

“What’s got you so cheesy today?” 

You blink at his question, feeling a bit bashful. You’ll never get used to this view. “I was just thinking about us, and how happy you make me.”

“That’s cute,” he mirrors your expression, one hand on the back of the bench to hold his weight and the other coming up to cup your jaw, lips pecking yours gently. “Ready for dinner?”

“I have a confession to make,” you start as you’re washing the dishes after dinner. 

“What’s up?” Yunho asks you from the other side of the kitchen, putting away the leftovers. He shuts the refrigerator and leans against it, arms crossed over his chest. You swallow thickly. 

“I’ve just had this on my chest for so long and I need to get it off before I explode,” you ramble, avoiding his eyes as you scrub a plate. “Promise you won’t judge?”

“I promise,” he chuckles, and you can hear his footsteps as he gets closer. “I won’t judge you.”

Your sigh comes out as more of a shudder, Yunho’s arms wrapping around your middle and his chin resting on your shoulder. The new proximity makes you ten times more nervous to say your piece, your heart beating erratically behind your rib cage. This is fine. This is great actually. (No it’s not!)

“Do— um— do you remember the day before Seojun and I broke up?” Your hands are trembling slightly. 

“When you gave Yeoreum a bath, right?” He nods, the movement bothering you slightly because it has his chin digging into your shoulder uncomfortably. “What about it?”

”So…” You have to pause the dishes, your hands clamming up so much that you think the handle of your sponge will fly out of your grasp. “That night, when my lightbulb went out, I actually went out to go grab you. But— uh— I saw something… else… instead…”

Your eyes squeeze shut, entirely too mortified to even think about what his reaction could be. It’s been a minute since the ordeal played out, so really you didn’t have to say anything. Part of you felt like you couldn’t continue this relationship in good conscience without being totally honest, though. 

Strong hands wrap gently around your wrists, turning you around to face him. He tsks, “Open your eyes, princess.”

His eyes are soft, no hint of disappointment or disgust on his features as he stares back at you. His lips curl into a smug smile after a couple seconds, cupping your jaw and caressing your cheek with his thumb. You blink at him, a little confused by the shift in atmosphere, but not complaining. 

“You’re not—?” 

“You watched me fuck my fist, is that right?” Yunho asks so bluntly, so vulgarly. “Tell me, what did you do after that?”

It’s easy to divert your gaze again, focusing on how interesting the material of his button up suddenly is. It’s one thing to admit that you stood there and watched for a bit, it’s another to admit you stuffed yourself with your own fingers not even fifteen minutes later. But you think he already knows that, based on your behavior and some good ol’ context clues. 

“I… I touched myself,” you whimper, ashamed of how you’re getting turned on. The worst part is the fact that he’s enjoying this. He’s enjoying the way he has you folding for him so quickly. “To the thought of you…”

Yunho’s grip on your chin tightens and his eyes flutter shut with a groan. “Fuck, baby, that’s so hot…”

You weren’t sure how this would go, and a piece of you genuinely thought he might even end things with you. Any other person would think you were sick and perverted, but not him. It makes you feel a lot better and a lot more secure in your relationship. 

Your tongue pokes out of the corner of your mouth, grazing the pad of his thumb. He hisses, cursing under his breath, letting you wrap your lips around and suck the finger. Yunho stares with not a single coherent thought behind his eyes. He’s losing his composure, pressing his thumb down on your tongue. 

“Do you think you can tell me? How exactly did you touch yourself?” He purses his lips, his free hand slipping into the opening of your overalls, dragging his finger along the exposed skin of your waist. You shake your head with a whine.

”Yun… That’s embarrassing…” 

He pulls his hand out of your overalls, hooking the digit into your belt loop and yanking you closer. His mouth is dangerously near your own, lips brushing yours when he speaks. “I wanna know. Need to picture my pretty princess fucking herself desperately ‘cause her fingers aren’t enough to get her off.”

Your legs feel like jelly, your cunt clenching around nothing just by his words alone. Yunho had always done such a good job at being the sweet and doting partner everyone wanted. He was attentive, praised you like you were a living, breathing goddess. But this dirty side of him is different. And you like it a lot more than you should.

“O-Okay…” You swallow thickly, and suddenly he’s spinning you so his chest is to your back. He urges you towards the bedroom, attaching his lips to your neck and sucking the supple skin gently, tenderly.

”Go on,” he says between kisses, still pushing you until you’re standing in the middle of his room. Your eyes already feel heavy and you haven’t done anything yet. “Tell me.”

”I— um— I thought about your hands and how big they are,” your tone is shaky, and you hope you don’t sound stupid. “Thought about how good it would feel to have them all over me. I pictured that it was your fingers inside of me. Imagined your cock, and how big it is.”

“Is that so? I’m just not getting the visual, babe. I think I need you to show me.” He hums, a hint of amusement in his voice. As if this couldn’t get more embarrassing, now he wants you to finger yourself in front of him? You’re about to protest, but he’s pressing your lower back to the mattress and talking against the corner of your mouth again, teasing you because he knows he can. “If you’re good for me, I’ll fuck you so well, you won’t be able to forget the shape of my cock.”

You nod with a whimper, hopping onto the bed and scooting all the way up to the pillows. Your hands are wobbly as you undress yourself, unbuckling your overalls and kicking them off your feet. Of course you chose the worst day to dress the part. Yunho sits at the edge, watching you with an unreadable expression. 

When you’re in nothing but your top and panties, he clears his throat, leaning back onto his palms. His tongue darts out to wet his lips. “Move your underwear to the side for me, princess. Let me see your pretty pussy.”

It’s almost impossible to hold back a moan, following his instructions. You glide your middle finger through your folds, showcasing how you’re practically dripping for him in the amount of time it’s taken you to get from the kitchen to here. He exhales through his nose, legs spreading to give you a glimpse of an uncomfortable looking bulge in his pants. 

You sigh deeply at the sight, circling your finger around your clit slowly. The thought of being the cause behind it, of getting Yunho so hot and bothered, drives you crazy and has you curling your toes. 

“Just like that,” he encourages, tossing his denim button up to the floor. He palms over his erection, tilting his head slightly. “Can you do some more for me?”

“Mhm,” is all you can manage to force out, doing what he asked. You shove your ring and middle fingers inside of yourself, finally releasing a moan at the intrusion. You keep pressure on your clit with the heel of your palm. There’s silence between you save for the occasional whine.

Yunho shivers, shimmying out of his pants so he can stroke himself freely. You gawk at him with bated breath, biting your lip as your fingers pick up their pace. There’s a knot that settles in the pit of your stomach, tightening and tightening in preparation for that special moment. 

The view of him spread out in front of you, fucking up into his hand with hooded eyes trained on your own playing with your cunt, is too much. He’s wearing that same godforsaken white tank top as he was the night you saw him, the muscles in his forearm and bicep flexing with each twist of his wrist, each pump of his cock. 

You feel like you’re drooling, ogling at him like he was a piece of meat. But you couldn’t help it. Yunho was the most attractive man you’d ever laid eyes on. The longer you stare, the further you fall. That’s a conclusion you’ve come to a little too late. 

“‘M close, Yun,” you moan, arching your back off of the pillows, head almost clunking against the headboard. “Wanna cum with you.”

“I’m almost there, too, baby,” he grunts, teeth gritted as he runs his thumb over his slit. That has a loud whine spilling from your lips, your feet digging into the mattress. You don’t know how much longer you can last. 

Your fingers try to reach that spongy, sensitive spot deep in your cunt, but you can’t. It seems that only Yunho’s long, thick fingers could accomplish that feat. No wonder you were so obsessed with his hands.

You opt for using the fingers of your free hand to swipe quickly at your clit while the others curl and thrust into you, inching you toward that steep cliff that has stars decorating your vision. Judging by the volume of his sounds getting higher and higher, you can tell Yunho’s right there with you. 

One particular absentminded curse from him has your brain short circuiting, that promise of release washing over you almost violently. Your body aches and quivers, orgasming harder than you ever had just with your own hand. (You’d like to think the presence of a certain cowboy had everything to do with it.)

He groans and follows behind shortly after, painting his hand in milky white. The two of you try to catch your breaths, laying there for a couple moments to recuperate. After a while, Yunho leans over to kiss you gently, squeezing your cheeks with his cum covered hand. You scrunch your nose. 

“You’re getting it on my face!”

“That was the goal,” he laughs, pressing another sweet kiss to your lips. You roll your eyes, licking away whatever was near your mouth. He groans again. “Fuck, are you trying to kill me? Purposely?”

“Maybe,” you shrug. “I remember being told you’d fuck me if I did good for you. Where’s my reward?”

“Trust me, I didn’t forget.”

© yunhoszn. do not steal, claim, or repost.

[xetlynn]

arcane imagines- silco

Uptown Girl

[main page] [arcane]

prompt: in which reader is from piltover and is over the rich, everyday loop-lifestyle. sneaking out and going to the undercity to where she finds the last drop. (Inspired by the song Uptown Girl by Billy Joel)

inspiration and idea made by: @s1lc0luvr

Sitting quietly at the dinner table, tapping your foot in a bored motion. Antsy for the food to be served while your parents sit across from you. Sneakily glancing at one another due to their daughter’s incredibly dark makeup. “What happened to your new makeup kit we bought, dear?” Your father was the first to speak up which surprised you as it had always been your mother to call out your rebelliousness.

“Hm? Oh, it was too light.” You answered, peering back into the kitchen, ready to scarf down the food and head right back up to your room. “That um- that was the point, sweetheart.” His voice was sharp even with the short stammer. “It washed me out, I’m going for a darker look now.”

You weren’t really giving him the time of day, curt and simple responses as your eyes wandered over everything. As if you hadn’t lived here your entire life. The same thing every night. Dinner with your parents at 5, sometimes 6 if they were caught up in their work. Normally it’s quiet except for the few questions about your grades in school- now university.

Forced to wear neat and tidy clothing, dressed as if you were going out somewhere instead of the comforts of your own home. No elbows on the table. Posture straight, head up. Head down and it was a thirty minute lecture. “Darker is a bit… bold even for you. [Name].” Uh oh. First name. You were in for it now.

“Boldness is intriguing, I’m intriguing.” You hum, your face told them how uninterested you were. “You can be intriguing without the devilish makeup.” Your mother spoke up this time and finally your eyes snap in her direction. “Devilish? It’s just black eyeshadow.” You roll your eyes in annoyance. She always knew how to make 10 to 100.

“It’s the way you wear it, it’s not right on that beautiful face of yours.” She exclaims but you ignore her, the servers placing down the plates of food. Putting the leftovers onto the middle of the table. “Wash it off immediately after dinner.” Your mom asks- no, demands. “Planned on it. Gonna go to sleep early.” You lied, stuffing your mouth with the bland food that was similar to every other night.

“I don‘t think you understand me. You are not to wear it again.” She tells you, you look over at her for a moment, then back down to your food. “Understood.” Normally you’d argue but you knew it was a lost cause. Instead you were lying, telling her what she wants to hear and then you were to do it all over again.

At the end of dinner you excused yourself, thanking the cooks and servers for the meal before heading up to your bedroom. The same steps you take ever since you were a child. Dinner, then bed. Sleep then breakfast in silence like the night before. School, extracurricular, back home. Study, dinner, then back to bed.

A loop that was never ending.

A loop that you were getting sick and tired of.

Entering the bedroom you quickly lock the door behind you. Dropping to your knees beside your bed and pulling out a box filled with dark clothing. Carefully picking out a cute set and then shoving the box back underneath your bed. You knew tonight was going to be the night you finally snuck out.

Over this white bread lifestyle.

You needed to experience something new, something different than what you were used to.

You change out of the tight, pretty clothing. Roughly putting on the dark red tank top, ripped up black jeans with these spiked belts. Topping it off with leather boots that were a little ragged down.

•••

It wasn’t difficult to sneak out, climbing out of your window that had a small roof leading to a good ole climbing tree. Wandering into the Undercity, that was a bit more challenging. You had no idea where you were. Where you were going, no clue. But you needed to venture out. Experience more than what your parents had planned for you. Living inside a planner with no true grasp of the world outside.

And somehow, you were now standing outside of a bar. Hearing voices and clatter from the outside. Music and big booming voices of older men cheering for something.

Only time you’ve heard anything similar is when your parents threw a gathering with their work buddies. The men cheering for some sport they were into and the women gossiping about whatever… Leaving you alone with the children that didn’t have nanny’s or babysitters for the night. Anxiously you opened the door, your feet seemingly moving subconsciously further into the building.

A few eyes peered onto you, but instead of slouching you confidently lift yourself up. Steps more quicker and you sat down on the bar beside an unknown person.

You didn’t even look over at them. Staring straight ahead as if you were on some sort of mission. “What can I get for ya, lil lady.” A gruff voice comes from the rather large man in front of you. Your eyes flicker up to him.

“Surprise me?” You smile, eyes half-lidded. He snickers. “Got just the thing.” He nods his head, he glances over at his friend that was right next to you. Letting out a small snort before heading off to make your drink.

You didn’t notice that said friend had his eyes on you ever since you walked in. His eyes bulging out of his head, mouth going dry at the sight of you. You were quite possibly the prettiest girl he’s ever seen.

And when you sat next to him it was as if his heart dropped to his stomach. Childishly it was like fate to him.

Now he kept sneaking little peeks your way, sipping on his own drink. Wondering if he should say something. He just couldn’t stop looking at you. Your very presence has him weak.

You fidgeted with your fingers as you patient wait for your first bar-made drink. Of course you’ve had alcohol, trying pathetic sips from your parent’s wine collection. Some of your father’s whiskey he head in his office. But never a full on drink to yourself.

Taking a deep breath you turned your head to the left, looking straight at the man who has already been staring at you for a while. His jerks a bit to look away but he fights himself. “Hi.” You breathily say, not expecting your neighbor to have been so… attractive.

Even his air was knocked out of him from actually seeing your face so close to his own. Accidentally spilling his own drink down the sides of his mouth. It dribbles down his chin. “Hello.” He rasps as he quickly wipes up the liquid.

“I’m [Name].” You stick a hand out, smiling at him. You didn’t know how to start this, this environment was all new to you. “Silco.” He takes your smaller hand into his own, giving it a firm shake. His hand was surprisingly cold but you kind of enjoyed the feeling. Letting him go felt heartbreaking almost. “Do you come here often?” It was a cliche, and common question that he had half the mind to make fun of you for but instead he answers truthfully.

“I do, the bartender, the owner is my friend. So I come in for the free drinks” He points to the large man who was talking and laughing with a customer as he continued to make your drink. “Oh, that’s cool. He’s the owner as well?” You inquire, going to lean your elbow on the counter to mirror the man beside you but stopping yourself in habit.

He catches that but ignores it, focusing back on your face. Observing every crevice and curvature of it. “Mhm, his name is Vander- I haven’t seen you around here before, you’re not from Zaun, are you?” He quizzes and your body stiffens.

“Is it noticeable?” You murmur, the corners of his lips etched upwards. “Only a little bit, to ones paying close attention.” He answers and you gaze up at him. “And you’re paying close attention to me?” It was bold.

And as he was about to respond a heavy glass smacks down in front of you.

“A good Old Fashioned.” He says, Silco lets out a small huff, glaring up at his long time friend who had a smug smirk of his own. “Thank you! How much is it?” You reach into your pocket but he shakes his head. “On the house for the first timer.” He winks at you before walking away. Leaving you and Silco alone once again.

“Oh! Your friend is quite nice.” You grin, taking a small drink of the alcoholic beverage.

Silco watches as your eyebrows scrunch together, along with your nose as you dislike the drink before quickly trying to cover it up with another smile.

“So, Silco. You were paying close attention to me?” You ask in a flirty tone. He was amused by you, the way you continued to drink down the wretched liquid you obviously didn’t like. “You’re unlike anyone I’ve ever met.” He answers, taking the glass from your hand and replacing it with his own.

“You’ll like this better.” He promises, you raised a brow but decide to trust him. Trying it, your eyes instantly light up. “This is a lot better!” You say and he chuckles. “It’s a favorite of mine.” He informs you as you take another drink. “What is it?”

•••

That was the first night of many, making an effort to come and see him at least two times in the week. Silco was a breath of fresh air that you couldn’t get enough of, wanting to know more about him.

Dressing in edgier and edgier clothing, making sure to match the colors you saw him wearing the last time you saw him. And once he noticed that, he’d attempt to do the same.

You were head over heels for him, talking about him to friends from University. Telling them how sweet he was to you. How even though he’s from the Undercity he was quite careful with you. Gentle in the way he spoke.

And Silco couldn’t get enough of you, counting down the hours until he saw you. The way his heart raced thinking about you. His eyes dilating each time he spoke of you to his best friend. He didn’t even mind being teased by the big lug.

He knew you were out of his league but he didn’t care. He selfishly kept talking to you. Entertaining the thought of being with you.

•••

“Silco!!” You sang, placing down a box. His face scrunched in confusion, looking down at what’s in front of him. “Open it.” You excitedly beam, clasping your hands together. “You don’t have to get me anything, [Name]. This is the fifth gift you’ve given me.”

The way your name rolls off his tongue makes you want to melt right then and there in the spot. The feeling making you giddy. “Open it.” You repeat, ignoring his words. He lets out a short breath through his nose. Doing as told. It was a bracelet.

Lately it’s been things he’s told you he’s been meaning to get from the market. Never having the time to get them so you’re sure to make your own time and grab them each time your parents make you go out. And every time you gift them he’d say the same thing. “[Name], you didn’t need to do this.”

This time it’s a bracelet. This shocked him, he lifted it out of the box. Admiring the black leather that had yours and his names engraved into it. “I hope it’s not too bold of me. But I really like you.” You take the bracelet from him, unsnapping it open. “We even have matching ones.” You show him your own wrist. Waiting for him to give you his own wrist to snap on the leather.

“It might be a little childish, if it is. I apologize. I can understand.” You sheepishly say, fiddling with the bracelet in between your fingers. Instead of saying anything he shoves his wrist out in front of you. Seemingly speechless. “You like it?” You tilt your head.

“Put it on.” He says and you giggle, taking his wrist and gently placing the bracelet underneath, bringing each side over and snapping it. He watches as you do so. His eyes filled with admiration.

“Perfect.” You tap it three times, your eyes now catching his.

“Perfect.” He repeats softly.

[peachhcs]

samy struggling with a little bit of her ed and Quinn and Jack and Luke are helping her and being good brothers and are by her side

why have i not seen this ask until now omg (starting to respond to my 140 inbox) i kind of strayed off the ask, but it all comes together in the end trust

eds are always such a difficult topic to write about but i think it’s important to also show it’s possible to recover and overcome something so hard with the right support by your side.

warnings: ed, talk of struggling to eat, talk of skipping meals, talk of throwing up, mental health struggle, please read with caution if this is something that's triggering for you

my messages are always open if you ever need a shoulder to lean on❤️

au masterlist

it was hard knowing what was going on with one another when it wasn’t summer. the siblings didn’t see each other a lot throughout the year except for breaks or spontaneous trips, so the summer was the only true time they all caught up on each other's lives unless they visited.

jack noticed it first.

it was surprising since luke was always the one to notice changes in their baby sister before him and quinn, but with the brunette being back home again after his second shoulder injury, he caught on a lot earlier this time. samy came home for a weekend before finals started to decompress and take her mind off of studying. jack was happy to have company that weren't their parents breathing down his neck and babying his every move (as much as he loved it, it got old fast.)

samy had always been go, go, go, so her rushing out of the house at times and never slowing down was pretty typical. jack understood that part because he, too, was always in and out of his apartment and on the move to do something because he hated being stationary. her being home though was forcing herself to slow down some and because of that, jack finally noticed samy's behaviors he didn't notice before.

it started small and nearly unnoticeable to someone who wasn't as observant as jack could be sometimes. the siblings were eating lunch together. jack was basically shoveling the food into his mouth, and while samy was eating her sandwich, it was only in tiny bites. she mostly played with the crust and chips on her plate to make it seem like she was eating.

"are you gonna finish that?" jack had been watching her play with her food for the past 15 minutes now. most times, the brothes would eat the leftovers she didn't have, but jack knew she never had that much left over.

samy looked up, "i'm pretty much done. you can have it if you want." she pushed the plate in his direction.

for a moment, jack stared at the barely eaten sandwich and broken up chips. samy almost always ate all of her sandwich besides a few bites and the chips were usually cleaned off the plate. it hardly even looked like she ate anything.

jack was not one to say something though. whenever he noticed something not right he was never the one to mention it, so he didn't say anything as samy hopped off the stool.

"are you sure?" the older boy finally asked.

"yeah, totally. all yours," samy smiled and left the kitchen before jack could ask anything else.

the hockey player glanced at the plate one last time before deciding to let it go figuring maybe samy just wasn't that hunrgy at the moment. he was still hungry, so he'd gladly eat the sandwich so it didn't go to waste.

however, the pattern continued into dinner. ellen and jim were making mindless conversation between the four. jack was half listening, mostly because he didn't care for the topic, but also because he had his attention on samy. she was doing the same thing she did earlier where she played with her food with her fork to make it look like she was eating all of it.

the girl did take a few bites of everything, but what jack didn't know was the internal battle she was having within herself. the voices in her head were screaming at her and the anxieties about her exams coming up hadn't eased as hard as she tried to not think about them. samy couldn't handle the idea of eating.

those thoughts had been plaguing her mind for weeks now. she looked at food and wanted to throw up at the mere idea of putting it in her mouth—and she did even when she did eat something.

samy knew it was bad. she knew she shouldn't be doing it..but after awhile, something in her brain was enjoying the way she locked herself in the bathroom after every meal. the starving..it ignited this itch in her brain that she didn't otherwise feel in the offseason. she couldn't stop.

once dinner was over, jack watched as samy scraped what she didn't eat into the trash. she shot him a brief smile, not knowing he'd been watching her at dinner. she disappeared upstairs and the sound of a door closing could be heard. jack knew it was the bathroom door and he suddenly wondered what she was doing in there.

the situation was hard to approach when jack didn't even know if what he was thinking was right. he knew that confronting someone with an eating disorder always had to be treated delicately and if it was the case, he worried he'd set off samy even more.

for now, he decided to let it go. maybe it wasn't as bad as he thought and it was just high stress because of finals coming up. everyone slips up once in awhile and samy was an adult. she knew how to take care of herself. jack didn't need to be breathing down her neck like she was fifteen still. plus, there was a chance he was just looking too deep into things because of how long he's been at home and everything was just more heightened.

so jack let it go.

what a huge mistake.

two weeks later, luke and quinn flew home for a week once the season was officially over to just catch up with family before completely immersing themselves up at the lake house where they had guests coming every week of the summer. samy came home again too and this time, it wasn’t just jack noticing the changes in her behavior.

luke was the most observant out of all of them, especially with samy, so he caught on pretty quickly after hanging around her for a day. she honestly looked even different than when jack saw her two weeks ago. the bags under her eyes had deepened significantly and her dark circles were way more apparent than before. she looked completely exhausted and..maybe even thinner? jack couldn’t exactly place it, but he knew something was different and it wasn’t good.

like jack, the younger hughes brother watched the way samy threw out most of her lunch when she usually ate everything on the plate. it didn’t even look like she took bites of it and by the time luke dared to ask, she left the kitchen to do something else.

that something else was the youngest hughes crouched over the toilet forcing herself to throw up what she had just eaten. at this point, this was routine for samy. she ate a few bites to make it look convincing and then went to the bathroom to get it out of her system. the brunette didn’t even know why she was doing this. it felt good? she’d been living the past few weeks on autopilot and in anxiety because of her finals that she somehow made herself anxious to food. the mere idea of trying to get something down set the girl into a spiral of well what if she ate it and gained weight because she wasn’t playing soccer at the moment? what if she got sick? what if, what if, what if, what if—those two words phrase clouded her mind.

so she couldn’t eat. no matter how hard she tried. no matter how much she knew she needed to, she just couldn’t do it. it was just normal for her now to skip meals. she couldn’t even remember the last time she had a full meal. days? weeks? it was hole she was struggling to get herself out of the further down she went.

luke was worried for his sister though. she was an athlete. she had to eat and she knew it too. the middle hughes decided to go to his brothers to see if they picked up on their sister's behavior too.

"i don't really know how to not be blunt, so i'll just ask. is samy not eating?" luke asked one day when samy was out of the house and it was just him, quinn, and jack.

jack immediately frowned, "you noticed it too?"

"what do you mean too? you knew?" luke looked surprised while quinn had no idea what they were talking about.

"knew what? what's going on?" the older boy quickly asked.

"i noticed when she came home like two weeks ago before finals. i thought it was just stress of finals or something," jack continued without answering quinn.

luke's face hardened, "and you didn't think to say anything?"

"what would i say? hey, you're not eating, what's wrong?" there was an argument brewing and poor quinn was still out of the loop.

"yes! exactly that!" luke exclaimed.

"dude, in case you didn't know, first rule with someone with an eating disorder is that you cannot confront them like that. it will only make things worse," jack argued right back.

quinn finally understood what was happening as he put the pieces together. luke's expression twisted and the anger in his face dissipated as the weight of jack's words settled in the room. eating disorder. saying it out loud made it that much more real and the reality of their sister's situation quickly set in.

"you really think that's what's going on?" the youngest brother wondered softly.

"i mean what else could it be? she's not eating and if she does she's throwing it up. that bathroom door closes upstairs like clockwork every night," jack said and the brothers all exchanged wary glances.

the thought of what to do next was hard. they needed to talk to her, but they had to approach the situation from a non confrontational standpoint. if they came at her too hard about it, she'd probably freak and deny it and neither of them wanted that to happen. luke decided to call gabe and ryan since he knew they were there for samy when she struggled with her mental health earlier in the year and knew how to approach it without putting labels on her that she wasn't ready for yet.

"hey hughes, what's up?" gabe answered.

"hey gp, how are you?" luke wondered.

"i'm good, man. new york's been real good so far."

"that's great to hear. i've seen some of the highlights. it looks like you've been doing awesome. i'm proud of you," luke smiled.

"thanks, luke. that means a lot. congrats on your season too."

it was always so awkward to go from making small talk to getting to the point of the call. luke shifted on his feet as he changed the topic, "hey, so i don't know how to sugarcoat this so i'll just ask. has samy ever mentioned anything to you or any of the other guys about an eating disorder?"

there was a pause on gabe's end.

"eating disorder? no, why? is she okay?"

"i..i-i..yeah? i don't really know to be honest. she's been acting weird and..we think she isn't eating properly and we don't really know what to do. we were hoping you or ryan or someone may know something or how to approach it with her," luke grimaced.

"shit..i..i mean she's never really said anything about that to us. earlier in the season back in like the fall she passed out during her game, but she told us it was just because she'd been feeling overwhelmed with things, but was gonna work on taking more care of herself," gabe explained and luke knew that part. they all thought she was working on taking better care of herself.

"i think she has a habit of not taking care of herself when things get stressful or reaching out to anyone," luke mumbled and both boys frowned at that.

"how bad is it?"

"she hardly eats anything and jack thinks she's throwing up whatever she does eat."

a painful silence fell between the call.

"do you want us to fly out? help you talk to her?" gabe offered.

luke thought about it for a moment. he didn't wanna make the situation worse, but he also knew how much these guys meant to samy and maybe having them close by could help her.

"yeah, actually. if you could," the boy nodded.

"okay, yeah. we'll fly out. i'll call ryan, will, hannah, and all them."

luke knew if anyone could help samy out of something as serious as this it was her family and best frinds that have been by her side since day one.

—

the sound of a dish breaking and glass shattering woke luke up from a dead sleep. he sat up thinking something in his room fell, but when he didn't see anything broken, he pushed the covers off himself and shuffled into the hallway.

he could hear someone cursing downstairs. the door beside him opened and jack's head popped out. "what the hell was that?"

"i dunno. maybe quinn?" luke mumbled sleepily and the two brothers glanced in the direction of quinn's door. it opened as if they summoned him and his head popped out.

"what the fuck was that?" the older boy grumbled.

they knew it wasn't their parents because they were out of town for the weekend. the idea of someone breaking in flashed in their minds until luke's gaze wandered to his sister's door. it was cracked open which meant she wasn't in her room and it was most likely her downstairs making the noise.

"i think i know who," luke said and took the lead down the stairs. the other two followed silently behind him.

there was a soft glow of light coming from the kitchen. luke rounded the corner and like he suspected, samy was struggling to clean up the glass of a plate that must've fallen. remnants of what looked to be a sandwich was also scattered in between the pieces of glass. the girl jumped when she saw her brothers staring at her in the doorway.

"shit, you scared me," she mumbled.

"what are you doing awake? it's 2 in the morning," luke mumbled while jack went go find a broom to clean up the pieces easier.

"i couldn't sleep," samy shrugged like it wasn't a huge deal.

"so you made a sandwich?"

"yeah? i was hungry? late night snack."

jack came back with a broom, but stopped when he saw his younger siblings staring one another down. luke's fear had a habit of manifesting into anger.

"that's funny coming from you," the curly-haired boy said.

"luke," jack immediately warned.

samy's face twisted, "what's that supposed to mean?"

"we know you haven't been eating in weeks," luke spit out.

samy finally hearing someone say that out loud to her made it all set in. the anger the brothers were bracing themselves for from her never came because luke was right. she hadn't been eating in weeks. she ran to the bathroom anytime even a morsel of food touched her mouth. the only thing she thought about was how much she was eating and if she looked overweight. she thought no one noticed yet here were her three brothers were staring at her with eyes full of worry that she's never seen before—and that told her how bad it was because neither of them had looked at her like that before.

instead of speaking, she cried. her eyes watered and the tears started slow until they all poured out at once. the three boys were motionless until luke stepped over the glass to collect her into a hug. he sunk to the floor with her while jack and quinn huddled around the two once the shock was over.

"it's okay, pop. don't cry. we've got you," luke whispered. he rocked her like a baby and it reminded him of when they were younger and he'd hold her exactly like this when jack or quinn were being a bit too mean, except this time he was comforting her from herself.

"it's gonna be okay, i promise. you're gonna get through this."

when the tears settled the boys helped samy back up. she looked like a shell of herself standing there with puffy eyes and self-deprecating thoughts plaguing her mind. none of her brothers have ever seen her like this before. quinn got her some water to clear her throat while jack cleaned up the rest of the broken plate and sandwich crumbs.

"if you wanna talk we're here," luke brushed some hair from her face.

"it's like i can't get out of my own head..like ever. it's easier when i have soccer to distract me, but when i'm not doing anything for weeks on end, it gets bad again," samy explained briefly. her brothers frowned.

"has talking with that psychologist you mentioned helped at all?" jack wondered.

the girl grimaced, "i sort of ghosted her..."

"pop..you know you can't do that. she wants to help you," quinn said.

"i know, i know. i don't really know what it is or why i just can't ask for help," the girl frowned.

"i get it, it's hard. it's never easy, but there's so many people who love you, pop. we don't wanna see you struggle like this. we want you to get better," jack rubbed her arm and the girl leaned into his touch.

"i called gabe. i didn't know how to approach this and i was hoping him or ryan might know. they're gonna come down sooner. he said he'd call will and hannah too," luke explained.

"it was probably better they heard that from you then from me a second time. i appreciate it, moose," samy forced a smile.

"we don't have to get mom and dad involved, but we need to make sure you're going to get better because if you don't, we have to involve them," quinn stated truthfully. the brothers knew it was hard to bring their parents into things, but if this was something that couldn't get better on its own then they would have to tell them.

samy nodded, "i understand."

they cleaned up the rest of the kitchen and helped get their baby sister back into bed for the night. as if they were kids still, they tucked her in and kissed her forehead. when they let her be the three of them exchanged, sad but hopeful glances. samy was probably the strongest one out of the four of them mentally and they knew she could get herself through this. it may be a long road, but they'd stick it out with her for as long as she needed them for.

[redroomreflections]

Her Best Secret Part 3

1950s Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: Natasha and R are having an affair.

Note: ENJOY =)

w/c:6.3k

Routine. It’s what you value. It keeps you grounded when everything else feels too big or uncertain. Your days were pretty much the same. Wake up, shower, make breakfast, and prepare Claire for the day. If you were lucky, you could steal a moment for yourself—just a few minutes of quiet before the demands of the day swallowed you whole. 

Claire sat at the kitchen table, legs swinging back and forth, eating her favorite Cornfetti cereal. The sugary loops crunched between her teeth, and you can’t help but frown slightly. You’d rather she ate something healthier—fruit, maybe oatmeal—but Sam had insisted once, grinning as he poured the rainbow-colored pieces into her bowl. “Live a little,” he’d said.

So now, Cornfetti was her favorite. You moved through the kitchen with rehearsed ease, cracking eggs into a pan while the toast popped up behind you. Sam’s thermos was already filled with coffee, and you'd packed his lunch: leftover chicken, a few snacks, a note tucked inside that says, Have a great day. You’re unsure if he reads them anymore, but you wrote them anyway.

Sam came into the kitchen just as you were plating his breakfast. He was still wearing his undershirt, his tie loosely around his neck. He smelled like aftershave and the soap you bought last week, which constantly reminds you of cedarwood.

“Good morning,” he said, pulling you into a hug from behind. His arms were warm and solid, and you momentarily let yourself lean into him. He kissed your temple, then glanced at Claire, who happily shoveled cereal into her mouth.

“Morning, Daddy,” Claire waved, her voice cheerful and unbothered, her small hand sticky from the milk dripping off her spoon.

“Cornfetti again, huh?” Sam teased as he plucked a piece of toast from the counter.

You shrugged, trying to match his lightheartedness. “You’re the one who started it.”

“And she loves it,” he said, grinning as he leaned over to tousle Claire’s hair. “Right, Claire-bear?”

Claire nodded enthusiastically, her cheeks puffed like a chipmunk with a mouth full of cereal.

The nickname caught you off guard. It wasn’t new, not by any means. Sam had called her that plenty of times before. But the first time—the very first time—wasn’t his. It was Natasha's.

You still remembered the unbidden but warm day it slipped from her mouth. Claire was about fourteen months old then. She held Natasha’s hand, pulling her toward the garden to show her a flower she’d plucked. “Come on, Claire-bear,” Natasha had said, the words soft and affectionate, as if they’d belonged to her all along.

Natasha. The name sent a pang through your chest, and you wondered if missing someone more than you did now was possible.

You missed Natasha fiercely, missed the way her eyes sparkled when she teased Sam, or how she always stole a piece of your food from your plate. You missed her soft voice when she read to Claire how she made up stories about dragons, magic, and princesses, which Claire would beg her for. It's not like she was unobtainable. Natasha was three doors down. Always there. Always constant. Except she wasn’t. Not anymore.

"Earth to Mommy," Sam chuckled. You looked up, and his brows were furrowed in concern. "Where'd you go?"

You blinked and shook your head. "I'm here. Just...thinking."

"About what?"

"Nothing," you said, forcing a smile. "Just what we're going to do today. I'm thinking of taking Claire to the park to play."

You turned away before Sam could see the lie on your face.

The morning passed without much else happening, and soon enough, it was just you and Claire.

******

The television played quietly in the background, the black-and-white image of a man in a suit shaking hands barely registering to her. Natasha stood at the ironing board, focusing on smoothing the faint creases in Steve’s pale blue shirt. It was one of his favorites, and he had a meeting today. She’d promised it would be ready.

Her hand stilled for a moment, her mind somewhere else entirely. The room smelled faintly of starch and lavender. On another day, this might feel peaceful, but not today. Not when her thoughts kept circling back to the way you’d smiled. The way your laugh echoed in her head, even now. Then, her thoughts turned bitter. The way you'd left her house. Her kiss on your cheek wasn't supposed to be goodbye.

The phone rang, breaking her from her thoughts.

"Hello," Natasha answered, the cordless receiver tucked between her ear and shoulder. She silently hoped it was you. But instead, it was Jane, her cheerful neighbor.

"Good morning, Natasha. It’s Jane."

Natasha forced a polite smile, though no one could see it. "Hi, Jane. How are you?"

"Good, good," Jane replied warmly. "Just wanted to remind you about dinner tonight. You and Steve are still coming, right?"

"Yeah," Natasha said, her eyes flicking to the iron in her hand. The shirt was only half done, and the distraction was welcome. "Do you need us to bring anything?"

"Just yourselves," Jane replied with a light laugh before hesitating. "Oh! Is Y/N coming too?"

Natasha blinked, caught off guard. She gripped the phone a little tighter, her heart skipping a beat. "Y/N?"

"Yeah," Jane said. "I mean, you’re so close. I figured she’d be joining you. It’d be nice to catch up with her. She didn’t answer my call this morning."

Natasha scrambled for a response, her usual composure slipping. "Oh—uh, I’ll ask her," she said quickly, trying to sound nonchalant. "I’ll make sure she comes."

"Great," Jane said, oblivious to Natasha’s unease. "Tell her I’m looking forward to seeing her. It’s been too long."

"Will do," Natasha murmured, her voice quieter now.

"All right, see you tonight!" Jane chirped before hanging up.

Natasha set the phone down slowly, her hand lingering on it as if it might ring again. She exhaled sharply, trying to push down the knot forming in her chest.

"I’ll make sure she comes," she had said. But the truth was, Natasha had no idea what you’d say—or if you’d even want to come.

She picked up the iron again, smoothing Steve’s shirt with slow, deliberate movements. Yet her mind wasn’t on the fabric or the faint hum of the local news in the background. It was on you. Always on you.

********

Natasha hadn't seen you for three weeks. Not that she was counting. She'd come outside to check the mail. She gazed three doors down, silently hoping—half-ashamed at how much she was expecting—to see you on your lawn. Sure enough, there you were, kneeling on the grass with Claire, holding her tiny hand as she attempted to blow a bubble with her new wand.

Natasha paused at the mailbox, thumbing through the envelopes without seeing them. She should have just gone back inside. There was no reason to linger. But her eyes betrayed her, darting back to you before she could stop herself.

You laughed, the sound carrying easily, and she felt something twist in her chest. Her fingers tightened on the stack of mail as if to steady herself.

It wasn't until Claire pointed in her direction that she realized she’d been caught. You glanced up, shielding your eyes from the sun, and Natasha quickly dropped her gaze to the stack of mail as if it was suddenly the most fascinating thing she’d ever seen.

It wasn't until she heard the pitter-patter of little feet along the concrete. She looked up, and sure enough, Claire was running towards her.

"Natasha," the toddler shrieked, her tiny arms stretched wide.

“Hi, sweetie,” Natasha replied, crouching down just as Claire barreled into her. Tiny arms wrapped tightly around her neck, and Natasha couldn’t help but smile, the tension in her chest easing for the first time all morning.

“Claire! Claire Elise Wilson!” Your voice carried across the lawns.

"Natasha, I got new bubbles," Claire lisped, her words slightly garbled but no less enthusiastic. She paid your calls no mind, too engrossed in sharing her news.

“New bubbles? That’s awesome!” Natasha replied, her tone warm and indulgent as she adjusted Claire on her hip.

You jogged over, brushing your hands on your shorts as you approached. “I’m sorry,” you said quickly, cheeks flushed—not from the sun but from embarrassment. “She’s been in a mood today.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow, but the look was playful.

"Really? She doesn't seem like she's in a mood," Natasha said, turning her gaze to Claire, who grinned and buried her face in her neck.

"I am," Claire said, her voice muffled but still bubbly.

"Well, that's unfortunate," Natasha replied, trying her best to sound disappointed, which earned her a giggle from Claire. "I guess you won't be able to show me your bubbles."

"No, I can show you," Claire insisted, leaning back and pushing her lower lip into a pout. "Please, Nat?"

Natasha chuckled and gently tapped Claire on the nose.

"Okay, okay. You can show me," Natasha replied with an amused shake of her head.

"Can we go to the park too?"

Natasha's smile faltered slightly, her eyes flicking to you.

“Claire,” you said gently, trying to keep your tone even. “I think Natasha has things to do today.”

“Nooo,” Claire whined, clinging tighter to Natasha. She rested her head against Natasha’s shoulder, her small hands gripping tightly. “I wanna stay with Nat.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, shifting uncomfortably. “Claire, come on,” you said. “Let’s go inside. It’s almost time for lunch.”

Claire shook her head. “No. I want Nat.”

Natasha patted Claire's leg and slowly released the little girl from her arms. "Listen to your Mama."

"But—"

"Don't worry, we'll see each other later," Natasha promised, smiling softly.

Claire frowned, her lips pushed into a pout. "Promise?"

"Promise."

Claire finally nodded, accepting her fate. She reached for your hand, and you took it.

"Bye, Nat," she said, waving.

You started to turn away, but your steps faltered. There were so many thoughts swirling around in your head. There were so many things you wanted to say to her. You gripped Claire's hand a little tighter. Natasha straightened, watching you intently, her posture tense. Her lips parted as if she might say something, but no words came.

You turned back, your eyes meeting hers briefly before they darted to the ground. The words you wanted to say sat heavily on your tongue, but they felt too raw, too uncertain. You swallowed, the lump in your throat threatening to choke you.

"I just..." you started, your voice trailing off. You hesitated, glancing at Claire, then back at Natasha.

Natasha's expression softened, but there was a flicker of anxiety in her gaze. She didn’t push or prod; she just stood there waiting like she always did.

"I need time," you finally mumbled, barely audible.

Natasha nodded slowly, her jaw tightening ever so slightly. "Okay," she said softly, her voice steady despite the flicker of something—hurt, worry—in her eyes.

You nodded, too, your throat tight. Without another word, you turned and walked back toward your house, Claire skipping beside you, blissfully unaware of the tension.

Natasha stood alone on the sidewalk, her eyes still fixed on where you were standing. Her fingers curled into fists, nails digging into her palms. She watched the door close behind you, and suddenly, it felt like the distance between you had never been greater.

*************

Jane and Louis Redman's dinner parties were always the highlight of your summers. They lived across the street, and you spent most weekends with Jane and Natasha. You'd gossip, talk about men, and drink iced tea until the sun started to set.

This night, though, was different.

You stood at the bottom of the Redmans' driveway, nervously twisting your watch around your wrist. It was a nervous habit that you thought you'd broken years ago. Apparently not.

You should've just stayed home. Maybe even feigned a stomachache or something. Instead, here you were, waiting to be invited into a place you once considered your second home. Sam stood next to you, his hand in his pockets and the other holding onto Claire's.

Claire tugged on Sam's hand, her gaze darting between you.

"Mommy, are we going?" Claire asked.

Sam glanced at you, his eyes narrowing in confusion. You hadn't said a word since you'd arrived, and now you were just standing outside, staring at the Redman's house.

"Yeah, we are," Sam said, his voice light. He squeezed Claire's hand and took a step forward.

You followed them, and the three of you walked up the driveway together.

"Are we gonna eat, Daddy?"

Sam smiled. "Of course. But remember what Mommy told you. You have to behave and eat your veggies."

"But I don't like green beans," Claire grumbled, wrinkling her nose.

"I know, but they're good for you. You'll like them eventually."

You opened the front door, the familiar smell of home-cooked food and laughter wafting out.

"Y/N!" Jane greeted, her face lighting up. "Sam, Claire!"

"Jane, hi," you replied, mustering up a smile.

Jane pulled you into a warm hug. "It’s so good to see you all. Come in, come in!"

Sam greeted Jane with a smile and a polite nod before scooping Claire into his arms. "Smells great in here. Let me guess—your famous pot roast?"

"Of course," Jane said with a laugh. "I’ve got a few more dishes in the kitchen. Y/N, would you mind giving me a hand?"

"Sure," you said quickly, grateful for the distraction. You followed her into the kitchen, glancing briefly toward the living room where everyone else was gathered.

That’s when you saw Natasha.

She stood by the mantle, chatting quietly with Steve, her hand resting lightly on the back of the armchair he occupied. Her red hair was swept in soft waves, and she wore a sleek, dark green dress that hugged her figure perfectly. It wasn’t anything over the top—modest but elegant, perfectly Natasha.

You caught yourself staring and quickly looked away, focusing instead on the dishes Jane had laid out on the counter.

"Everything smells amazing," you said, forcing a bright tone as you picked up a dish of roasted carrots.

"Thanks," Jane said, shooting you a knowing look as she handed you a serving spoon. "Louis and I have been testing new recipes, so let me know what you think."

You nodded, trying to focus on the task as your heart raced. Natasha hadn’t noticed you—or at least, you didn’t think she had. But you could feel her presence.

"Y/N," Jane said, her voice snapping you out of your thoughts. "You okay?"

"Yeah," you said quickly, offering her a small smile. "Just a little tired."

Jane didn’t push, but her gaze lingered momentarily before she returned to the food.

You carried the dish to the dining table, carefully setting it down to avoid looking toward the living room again. But you didn’t need to look—you could feel Natasha’s eyes on you now, and it took every ounce of willpower not to glance back. It was going to be a long night.

*********

The table was cleared, and coffee and wine cups and pie slices replaced the remnants of roast beef, mashed potatoes, and green beans.

Around the room, couples settled into their usual places, sharing stories and laughter. It felt good for your mind to be on something else for a change. Jane leaned into Louis’s side, her hand resting on his arm as she told a story about their youngest getting into the flour bin that morning. Wanda sat on the floor, her legs crossed under her skirt, as she picked at a piece of pie while Vision chuckled beside her.

You sat on the couch next to Sam, your hands perched on his lap as he rubbed your arm soothingly.

Natasha sat in the armchair across the room, her posture relaxed, though her eyes darted to you more often than she’d like to admit. Steve, ever the gentleman, offered to refresh Jane’s coffee, leaving Natasha with her hands wrapped around her untouched cup.

The children’s chatter and occasional shrieks of laughter filtered in from the playroom down the hall. Jane and Louis’s three kids—Emma, Michael, and Daisy—were busy keeping Billy, Tommy, and Claire entertained. The adults hardly noticed when one child peeked into the room to snag another cookie before disappearing again.

Louis chuckled as he reached for his glass of wine. "You know, I had a funny conversation with a few of the guys at work the other day. We were talking about gender roles, of all things. Some were adamant that a woman’s place is at home, raising the kids and keeping the house in order... you know, the usual. I had to bite my tongue because it felt like stepping into the 1800s."

Vision raised an eyebrow, leaning back into his chair. "Well, what did you tell them? I mean, not everyone can afford to have someone stay home all the time, can they?"

Louis laughed. "I just told them I had a hard time believing anyone would be happy with being cooped up all day. We need both parents working—at least in this generation. If anything, the man's job is to keep the kids entertained while the wife goes to work."

The men around the room laughed, and you couldn’t help but shake your head.

"You don't agree y/n?" Louis asked. He was baiting you. You didn't honestly want to contribute. You tended to get passionate about these topics. But the alcohol loosened your tongue, and you found yourself responding anyway.

"I just don't think we need to pigeonhole ourselves into traditional roles," you replied, your tone light but firm.

Louis gestured to you, his gaze turning to Sam, who shrugged.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Louis asked.

"I'm not saying the woman can't be a housewife. Or that the man can't do housework. We need to stop making it a competition.

"Competition?" Wanda repeated, her eyebrows raised in surprise. "It's not a competition, y/n. Not unless you want it to be."

You shook your head, ignoring the sudden heat in your cheeks. "I'm not saying it's a competition. I'm just saying we need to stop acting like there's some kind of hierarchy. If the woman goes to work, the man is less of a man. Or if the man does the cooking, then the woman is somehow inferior."

"You make a valid point," Vision said. "We have made quite a few assumptions about gender roles."

"Right, which is why we shouldn't assume anything. We should just...do what makes sense for us."

Wanda tilted her head, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. "I suppose so," she said, her tone light. "Though, I still think it's much more comfortable being a woman. You guys are the ones with the balls."

Another round of laughter filled the room, and even you couldn't help but grin.

"All right, all right," Jane said, her smile warm and bright. "Enough about gender roles. Did you guys hear about Georgia Park one street over? She found out her husband was having an affair and has a secret family."

"You're kidding," Louis said, his eyes wide. "That's a new level of cheating."

Jane nodded. "I heard he was living with the other woman and their kids. Georgia said they've been married for twenty years, and he had a second family right under her nose the whole time."

"That's crazy," Sam blurted. The conversation shifted quickly, but Natasha and you stayed quiet, each processing the information in your way. While the others were shocked and animated, you felt uncomfortable at the gossip, unsure if you should participate.

"That's... awful." Wanda frowned. You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, avoiding eye contact, and let your fingers brush the edge of your wine glass, trying to distract yourself from the topic. "I can't imagine how she must feel."

Natasha looked down at her hands, her voice low but steady. “People are capable of some strange things, aren't they?" She glanced briefly at you, her eyes more intense than usual."It's... not something I'd want to be involved in."

You nodding, swallowing a bit, not wanting to add anything too personal."Yeah, I think it’s better to just... leave it alone. I mean, it’s not our business, right?"

Wanda shrugged."I guess. Still, it's hard to let go of something like that.”

Natasha glanced at you, her expression softening."Sometimes we have to just let it go, though."

You looked up and met her gaze. Your chest tightened at the look in her eyes, and for a moment, it was just the two of you in the room. Then, Sam's voice broke the silence.

"That's enough of that. Who wants to play a round of cards?"

Natasha blinked, the spell broken, and turned away.

"Oh, yes. That sounds fun," Jane said, her enthusiasm bubbly and warm.

"I'm in," Louis chimed in.

The group quickly dispersed, and you excused yourself to the restroom.

Natasha watched you go, her eyes lingering on your retreating form.

In the bathroom, you gripped the edge of the sink, your reflection staring back at you.  You took a deep breath and tried to steady your hands, which betrayed your nerves by trembling just enough to make you fumble with the compact mirror you’d pulled from your bag.

You focused on reapplying your lipstick, the repetitive motion of the tube sliding over your lips grounding you in the moment. It was better than thinking about why you were here. Better than admitting, even to yourself, that you’d come knowing full well Natasha would be sitting at that dinner table. It was better than acknowledging the ache in your chest that hadn’t entirely gone away since the day you walked out of her home. 

You’d been the one to end it. You’d said it wouldn’t work, that the two of you were kidding yourselves.

The bathroom felt too small, the walls pressing in as your mind replayed her words from earlier. "Sometimes we have to let go." Its weight settled in your stomach, heavy and unrelenting. Was that how she felt about you now? Had she let go? And if she had, why did she look at you like that? Like she still felt so much for you.

Moments later, you stepped out of the bathroom. The conversation in the den had gone to a low hum, and no one seemed to be talking. 

"Where's Natasha?" You asked as you stepped into the den. The redhead's absence was noticeable.

"She went home to fetch her favorite drink," Steve replied.

"Oh," You nodded. "I am just going to go check on her. "

"The two of you are so attached at the hip; I love it," Jane commented, giving you a friendly grin.

You ignored the playful jab, too distracted by the sudden urge to speak with Natasha. You had to find her.

You walked outside toward Natasha’s house, the familiar path feeling strange beneath your feet tonight. You arrived at the front door, hesitated, and then pushed it open. The familiar warmth of her home greeted you, but tonight, something different about it made it feel less like the sanctuary it usually was.

You found Natasha standing by her home bar. She looked so at ease, yet distant in a way you hadn’t seen before. She was dressed in her dinner outfit, and the tension you’d both felt earlier hung in the air.

She glanced up at you, her expression flickering with surprise before she masked it with her usual calm demeanor. “What are you doing here?” Her voice was steady, but the question had a slight sharpness, unintended but there nonetheless.

You froze for a moment, your heart skipping a beat at the sudden coldness in her tone. It wasn’t like her to sound like that, and you weren’t sure how to respond. You took a breath and tried again.

“I just—” You hesitated. “I wanted to check on you. You seemed distant earlier, and I thought maybe we could talk.”

There was a brief silence, and Natasha stood still, eyes scanning you before her arms folded loosely over her chest. “I’m fine,” she said, but the words didn’t come with the usual certainty this time. They were quiet, almost as if she wasn’t entirely convincing herself.

You stepped closer, avoiding her momentary gaze as you glanced around the room, letting the silence sit for a second longer. “I know you’re fine,” you said softly. “But I still wanted to see you. To make sure you were okay.”

"Well, now you see," Natasha said. "If you don't mind. I'm trying to figure out how to drink this entire bottle of vodka before I go back."

You nodded. You wanted to say anything, but the words wouldn't come. There was too much to say, and the silence between you stretched.

Natasha fixed her eyes on the bottles in front of her, and you stood awkwardly by the doorway, your thoughts swirling.

"I didn't mean to hurt you," You began. You closed your eyes with a sigh. That's a cliche way to start. But what else could you say?

"I know," Natasha replied, her voice low and her back still turned to you.

"I just didn't want..." You trailed off.

Natasha finally looked up. Her eyes were glassy; her jaw clenched tight.

"Y/N," She sighed, her gaze flicking away. "It's okay."

"No, it's not," You shook your head. "I panicked."

Natasha let out a long breath. "I know."

You stared at her momentarily, watching as her features softened slightly.

"I didn't want to ruin things," You confessed. "Between us."

Natasha tilted her head slightly, her gaze still averted. "We're fine," she said, almost whispering.

You took a step forward, reaching out a hand tentatively, letting it rest on her arm.

Natasha's gaze finally flicked up to yours, and there was no trace of anger or frustration for a moment. Instead, she looked at you with a sad sort of understanding.

"I'm sorry," You murmured, your hand falling away.

Natasha took a deep breath and then straightened. "Let's not talk about this right now, okay?"

You swallowed, a lump in your throat. "Okay."

There was a pause. Then, Natasha finally broke the silence.

"Did you need anything else?"

"No, I—" You faltered, realizing the answer wasn't entirely true. "I mean, I'm here, aren't I?"

"Right," Natasha said, her tone suddenly formal, as if she were talking to a stranger.

You looked down at the floor, wishing you could take back the last few minutes.

"Do I mean something to you?" She asked suddenly.

You froze. Your heart was pounding, and your palms were sweaty. "Of course you do."

"But do I matter?"

"Of course you do," You repeated.

"Then why did you push me away?"

"I didn't."

"Yes, you did," Natasha said, her voice cracking.

"Natasha, I didn't. I'm sorry. I was scared."

"So am I."

"I'm sorry."

"So am I."

You were silent for a moment.

"What are we going to do?"

Natasha turned away, her expression unreadable.

"Nothing," she said, her voice a whisper.

"You're the first woman I've ever cared about," You whispered, the words spilling out before you could stop them. "I don't understand what I feel. I love Sam."

Natasha took a deep breath, and for a second, you thought she might turn back to face you.

"I have to get back," She said instead. "They'll be wondering where we are."

"But I also care for you," You stopped her from walking past you. "I also know when you're upset. Usually, I'm not the one to upset you, but there's something else." You guessed.

"I'm fine," She replied, her voice stiff. "Thank you for coming over. Goodbye, Y/N."

"Wait." You reached out, catching her hand and squeezing gently.

Natasha paused, her eyes darting to your hands before meeting your gaze.

"What?" She asked, her voice quiet.

"Can we... can we just talk for a second?"

Natasha nodded, her shoulders slumping slightly as she relented. "Okay."

"Are you mad at me?"

"I'm not," Natasha sighed.

"But are you?"

"No, I'm not." Natasha ran a hand through her hair. "I'm disappointed, I guess."

"Why?"

"Because I wanted this to be different. Because I thought we were different."

"We are," you said, your voice soft.

"Then why did you say everything to me and then run?"

"Because I panicked," You replied, the words coming out more harshly than you intended.

"You're an idiot."

"I know."

"I care about you, too," Natasha said, her voice wobbling slightly.

"I'm glad."

Natasha nodded and took a deep breath.

"I'm sorry."

"Me, too."

Natasha eyed the vodka bottle, biting her lip nervously. It was an effort not to cry; she didn't like to cry in front of people.

"I, um, I thought that I was pregnant before," She admitted, her voice slightly crackling. "I wanted to come and tell you, but we weren't talking."

"Natasha," You breathed. You knew how much it would mean for her.

"I went to the doctor," She continued. "I took a test. I had blood drawn. I waited in that room for so long only for it to be negative."

"Oh, Nat.." You couldn't find the right words, but you wanted to tell her how sorry you were.

"Which was fine," Natasha nodded to herself. "It was fine. I can't be someone's mom. I'm too unpredictable. I can never stay in one spot. I don't love my husband, but I can't leave him either. No baby deserves that."

"But a baby would love you, Natasha. It's impossible not to," You whispered.

"Maybe. But a baby deserves a better life than I could give," Natasha said.

"It wouldn't matter," You insisted.

"How do you know that?"

"Because you'd love it," You said simply.

"Love isn't enough," Natasha said. The weight behind her words unsettled you.

"Love is all you need."

Natasha let out a humorless laugh, shaking her head.

"You have no idea what I need," She said, her voice cracking.

"That's not true," You replied. "I do. And what you need is love. Love is everything."

"I need stability, y/n," Natasha said, her voice firm. "Isn't that why you ran?"

"I didn't—"

"You did," Natasha cut you off, her voice soft but unwavering. "You were afraid of getting hurt. Of getting caught. Of people knowing that you like to sleep with women."

"That's not it."

"Then what is it?"

"I don't know," You sighed. "I don't know what I'm doing anymore."

"Neither do I," Natasha said, her voice softening.

"The first time we kissed, I felt like I was going to die," You confessed, your eyes fixed on the floor. "And the next time, I felt like I was going to live forever."

"Me too," Natasha whispered.

"When we kissed again, I didn't want it to end. But when we woke up, I didn't know what to say or how to act. And when I went home, I didn't know how to be with Sam. Not after that. So, I just... pushed you away. But I didn't want to. I still don't."

"So, why did you?"

"Because I was scared."

"Scared of what?"

"Of what it meant."

"I'm scared, too," Natasha said, her eyes filling with tears. "But I'm not running. "

"What are we going to do?" You whispered.

"We could keep sneaking around. But sooner or later, we'd have to tell someone. And that would be the end of it."

"Or we could try," You said.

"Try what?"

"To be together."

"You're married." Natasha furrowed her brows. "Last time I checked, so am I."

"I know," You whispered. "Can we just sit for a minute?" You gestured over to the couch.

"Alright," She nodded, following you.

You sat down, leaning back into the cushions.

Natasha sat beside you, her hands folded in her lap.

You turned to face her, studying her features. "You're beautiful," You said, unable to help yourself.

"I'm tired," Natasha sighed.

"Are you really?"

"Of hiding. Of lying."

"Me, too," You admitted.

"I'm sorry that I got angry with you," She began. "It's not fair of me to ask so much of you. I wasn't thinking of Claire's well-being also."

"It's okay," You reassured her. "I shouldn't have left. I just panicked."

"It's been hard."

"It has."

"Do you still want to do this?" Natasha asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Be with me. Like this. Whatever it is."

"I think so," You replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

Natasha studied you carefully, her green eyes softening just a little though her tension was still evident. She exhaled deeply, leaning back into the cushions beside you. “You think so,” she repeated, her voice carrying a faint trace of uncertainty.

You looked down at your hands, clasped together in your lap, the words catching in your throat. “I—I don’t know how to say it. I’ve thought about us every day since I left. I know I was wrong to walk away like I did. I just…” You trailed off, searching for the right words. “I’m scared, Natasha.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line as she nodded slowly. “You think I’m not? You think I don’t lie awake some nights wondering what happens if we get caught? If we hurt the people we care about?” She paused, glancing at you. “But I can’t stop thinking about you either. I can’t pretend this doesn’t matter.”

Your chest tightened at her admission, and you felt the sting of unshed tears in your eyes. “I don’t want to hurt anyone,” you said softly, your voice trembling. “But I don’t know how to stop wanting this. Wanting you.”

Natasha reached for your hand, lacing her fingers through yours. She squeezed gently, her touch warm and reassuring.

"Tell me this is more than just sex for you?" You began. "Because, Natasha, I..."

"It is," she whispered, her gaze fixed on yours.

You swallowed hard. "I care about you," you murmured, your voice low and unsteady. "So much."

Natasha smiled weakly. "Me, too."

"You're my best friend."

"And you're mine."

"I love Sam," You began.

"And I care for Steve," Natasha replied.

"I want him. But I can't imagine losing you," You breathed, the words hanging heavy between you.

"I don't want to lose you, either," Natasha said, quiet but firm.

"So, where does that leave us?"

Natasha sighed, her gaze drifting down to the floor.

"We keep it a secret," she said. "Only for a little longer. I promise. Until we're ready."

"And when will that be?"

"I don't know," she admitted.

You hesitated.

"Are you okay with this?" Natasha asked, her voice tentative.

"I don't know," you said. Natasha nodded. You studied her face. "You look beautiful tonight."

"Thank you," she murmured. "So do you."

You bit your lip, your gaze flickering to her mouth.

"May I kiss you?" You asked softly.

Natasha smiled faintly.

"Yes."

You leaned in slowly, pressing a gentle kiss to her lips. She kissed back, her mouth soft and warm against yours. You inhaled her scent, the smell of her shampoo filling your senses, and you sighed into the kiss, the tension in your body dissipating.

After a moment, Natasha pulled back, her gaze intense.

"Natasha, I need to tell you," You breathed. "I really think-"

"Am I interrupting?" Wanda questioned as she stepped further into the house.

You jumped, startled, and quickly broke away from Natasha, turning to see her standing by the entrance with an unreadable expression.

"Hey," Natasha greeted, her tone calm and casual as if nothing was amiss. "Sorry, Wanda, we got a little wrapped up in girl talk."

"Oh, that's okay," Wanda smiled politely.

"What's going on?" You asked, trying to regain your composure.

"Nothing. I just wanted to make sure the two of you were okay."

"Yes, we're just fine," Natasha said, nodding.

Wanda's eyes lingered between the two of you for a moment, her smile still in place, but there was a flicker of something unspoken behind her calm expression. "Okay," she said finally. "Just wanted to check. Everyone's getting ready for cards, and Sam said we shouldn’t start without you.”

You nodded, your voice shaky as you replied, “Thanks, Wanda. We’ll be right there.”

Wanda nodded and stepped back toward the door, but not before her gaze landed on Natasha again. “Don’t keep us waiting too long,” she said lightly, her tone teasing but carrying a subtle undertone you couldn’t quite place. With that, she turned and disappeared through the door, leaving you alone again.

Natasha exhaled softly, running a hand through her hair. “That was close,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

You turned to her, your heart still racing. “She knows, doesn’t she?”

Natasha gave a faint shrug, her lips pressed into a thin line. “Wanda’s smart. She probably has suspicions but won’t say anything unless she’s sure.”

You chewed on your lip, anxiety creeping in. “Maybe this is a sign that we must be more careful.”

“Or maybe,” Natasha said, her voice firm but gentle, “it’s a sign that we need to stop pretending we don’t matter to each other.” She reached out, her fingers brushing lightly against yours. “What do you want to do?”

You hesitated, your eyes flickering toward the door where Wanda had just left. Then, you looked back at Natasha.

"I don’t know what this is supposed to look like,” you admitted. “But I know I want to figure it out—with you.”

Natasha’s expression softened, and she gave a slight nod. “Then let’s take it one step at a time,” she said. “No rushing, no overthinking. Just… us.”

A faint smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you let her words settle over you. “Okay,” you whispered. “One step at a time.”

Natasha held your gaze for a moment longer, then stood, her hand lingering on yours as she pulled you gently to your feet. “We should get back before Wanda starts playing detective,” she said with a slight smirk.

---> next part

[imamotherfuckingstar-lord]

imagine sanji saving food for you

written in first person.

The kitchen was empty and dark sans for the little moonlight that shown through the small windows. I moved quietly to turn on the over lights making sure the swinging door didn’t make much noise. It was well after midnight and the others were asleep, except for Robin who was keeping watch out in the bird nest. A rumbling came from my stomach, and I felt embarrassed about sneaking around but I made my way to the stove. The kitchen was clean as a whistle, no one could expect less from the Straw Hat’s cook, but I still opened the oven and was surprised to see a plate of food covered by a kitchen towel.

“I thought I’d leave an extra plate for you, so you wouldn’t have to rummage through the fridge for cold leftovers.”

Sanji’s voice was quiet and kind, and when I stood up straight, he was smiling softly at me. My cheeks warmed with humiliation, but he paid no mind. Instead, he made his way around the kitchen island and gently moved me aside. I watched as he took the plate from the oven and swiftly removed the towel, holding out the plate with one hand while the other moved to his back.

“For you, darling.”

His smooth voice sent tingles down to my toes and I slowly took the plate. He offered up a clean fork and I laughed softly, thanking him. “I’m completely embarrassed.”

“Don’t be.” Sanji smiled, hand on my back as he led me to the table. We sat side by side on the bench and he watched with amusement as I began to eat. He looked so pleased with himself, his eyes shining with adoration as I let out a whispered sigh. Sanji’s food was the best I have ever tasted in my life and each night, I looked forward to dinner. He brushed a few strands of hair from his face and gently asked why I was eating in the middle of the night. “I thought it was Luffy sneaking food, but I came down last night and saw you through the window.”

I looked where he pointed to the door window. “Sorry…”

“Don’t be. I never want anyone to go hungry, especially you.”

Especially you made my insides rot with sweetness.

“Can I tell you something?”

He said always.

Putting down the fork, I turned to him, my knee touching his. “I grew up in a very poor village, we hardly had any food. My family….my mother tried her hardest to feed my siblings and I but we were always hungry. All I could think about was food and even today, when we have plenty, I still can’t help it. Don’t…don’t think less of me.”

His arm was around my shoulder in seconds, and he lifted my chin with a single finger. Sanji’s eyes were gleaming with something that felt like devotion and before I could even think, I leaned forward to press a kiss onto his lips. He sat still for a moment, startled, but then he pulled me closer. Both hands on my face as he kissed me softly, the ship peaceful as the waves lulled it further out to sea. My heart raced when he finally pulled away, hands still on me. Sanji smirked shyly and ran a thumb against the bottom of my lip.

“I’ll keep a warm plate for you every night in the oven for now on.”

I smiled. “Thank you, Sanji.”

The cook sighed contently, brushing hair from my face. “No, thank you, for enjoying my food.”

We stared at each other with silly smiles before he finally leaned in to kiss me again and in that moment, I had forgotten all about food.

[little-fairy-forest]

Cute todoroki headcanons

Never turns the light on when getting ready in the moening in case it wakes you. He settles by using a small flame to see

Eats your leftovers. He doesn't see it as an annoying thing but more of a "I'm eating it so it doesn't go to waste"...

Randomly appears wherever you are. You could be coming out of the bathroom *boom* he's there asking, are you okay, going on a walk? *poof* he has his shoes on holding the door open

Always comments on your social media posts, even if it's a simple. " ❣️ " he will be the first to like, comment, and reply to a story :)

He stops for every. Single. Cat. Every cat needs pets his in eyes, and yes you do have many candid photos of him petting cats

Silent horder. He doesnt have many keepsakes from his childhood so he keeps every memory. Movie tickets, sweet wrappers, anything this man deems as a "memory"

Sleeps with your teddy when your gone on a mission. This man will talk to your teddy as if he is talking to you, he needs to tell someone about his day!

Passenger princess ✨️ (he has a licence but never uses it)

Leaves the last drop of milk in the fridge so he doesn't have to throw it out and get more

Leaves his socks everywhere.. except in the wash basket >:(

He eats off your plate and eats the food he knows you won't eat first. If he gets away with it, he will continue to eat your food even if he has his own

Always asks for your opinion even if he has settled on an idea himself, does his shoes match his outfit? Should he book a table at the restaurant? Does he need to shave?

Is a sucker for any cat, all the neighbours' cats will come to your house for extra treats and scratches due to this man~

-> masterlist

[ricciardo133]

January 2025

maxiel, feeding, body worship, weight gain, wags & retirement briefly alluded to, passing food mouth to mouth

-

Daniel's apartment is barren. As they pop in after padel, Max opens and closes pantry doors in the kitchen with a growing dismay. He already thinks Daniel's flat is a bit depressing, but the only thing edible being a box of protein bars makes it worse.

"Mate, you deserve better. This is awful."

Daniel looks up from his spot on the nearby sofa, his big brown eyes wide and searching. He shifts in his oversized sweater and atypically baggy sweatpants. Max was kind of hoping to see his legs in a guilty, quiet perversion when Daniel invited him out for padel. Sadly, Max fears Daniel may have fallen prey to whatever trend cursed Leclerc. Since he came back from Perth for an extended visit in his own apartment, he's worn only the boxiest of outfits.

Daniel looks confused for a moment until the realization makes his lips part in a soft 'oh.'

"Ah, the pantry. Yeah, we can get take away if you're peckish." Max waves his hand as he pulls out his cell phone.

"If you're going to be in this hemisphere for a while, you need more than just leftover pizza. I'm buying you groceries."

"Ah, Verstappen, you've really grown up. So mature, I'm so proud." Daniel wipes away a fake tear. "The dad life really does suit you. Have you been called a 'dilf' yet?"

Max shakes his head, both at the question and to dispel the small thought that was like an ever-present, hot pink post-it note pinned on the corkboard of his mind. Kelly and him both have their hall-pass, their one exception, if the situation ever arises. His is Daniel. The situation hasn't arose. He's tempted to joke about it as he throws groceries into his virtual cart, but there's no casual way to say he would do anything for Daniel, anytime, anywhere, any way he wanted and had felt that way for years. He hopes he can somehow convey it through an impending delivery of baguettes and cheese instead.

Daniel and him toss a padel ball back and forth as they sit on the sofa and wait out the delivery. Daniel is describing some top-secret wine business plans and laughing about how the bottom of a wine bottle is truly called a 'punt' as the doorbell rings. Max pops up and brings in the lot of paper bags.

"Jesus, Max," Daniel laughs. "I'm not wasting away. Kind of the opposite lately. This is too much."

"Humor me," Max says as he already is putting the cold items into the fridge. "And start boiling some water."

Max wouldn't have done this for himself, but he feels compelled to with Daniel. They talk motocross as they trial and error their way into plated fettuccine and garlic bread with a few donut-hole-sized arancini balls. Those, at least, came pre-made.

Daniel holds his phone over the finished product as they sit on the sofa.

"Pic for the 'gram?" Max asks. Daniel shakes his head.

"I'm off the grid, Maxy. I'm not resurfacing til I'm photo ready."

"You're always photo ready," Max says, now his turned to stare in confusion.

"Put those big old eyes away," Daniel says, gently wacking his shoulder. "Don't act like it's not obvious what's a bit...off here."

"What is?" Daniel gives him a withering look. "What, Daniel. I can't read your mind."

"Be serious."

"I am being serious. What's wrong?"

"That you're the actual father here and I'm the one with the dad bod." Daniel shimmies out of his sweatshirt. Max has to mentally stifle the flare of elated horniness, strategically covering his lap with his plate as he eyes a fantastic sliver of Daniel's flesh at his waist where his shirt rides a bit high on his middle.

He has gained weight. Daniel was always so slim, all angles and lean limbs save for the curve of his hips that Max had fully memorized. Now he actually seemed to fill out his hips even more. Daniel shifts in his spot, thicker thighs pulling the joggers taught. A curve of new love handles peek over the waistband, soft and swooping up to a small, round belly. Daniel's hands hold it on either side, giving his middle a gentle shake and making the skin-tight shirt ride up even higher. Max can't help but look up at his softer tits and full forearms and a red hue under Daniel's fuller cheeks.

"I hadn't noticed," Max says earnestly. "You've been wearing the Charles special in the outfit department."

"Intentionally, on account of all this," Daniel says, waving over himself. "Just...it was nice to kind of...let loose? Not go ham or anything, but y'know. Silver lining of just being able to chill out and drink during a game. Eating whenever. It's bad."

"No, it's good." Max shakes his head. "You deserve that. I'll do that too, when I'm-," he pauses. He doesn't want to say 'retire' and instead sits up straighter on the sofa. "When I'm on winter break, you know."

"Yeah, but you somehow always work it off. I've never been...like this big before."

Max feels his cock start to betray him as Daniel feels up his middle again, fingers dragging along smooth, tan skin. He's never seen Daniel without the narrowest, flattest stomach, but now he looks so full and vital. He feels that carnal, similar thrill of seeing Kelly a few months along. Daniel looks so alive.

Max leans in. "It is good. If you're living life and being happy, then that's good."

"Maybe. You just always carry it well, like," Daniel makes a face, as if he caught himself. "Ah, well, you know. You always look good."

"Oh, thank you." Max wonders if Daniel has a hall pass. He wonders if he has one for Max. He drop kicks the thought out of his head. "It'll get cold," he says instead, gesturing to the forgotten plate of pasta.

"Right," Daniel says in an exhale. "Right, yeah, can't waste good Italian. Let me try some."

Before he can stop himself, Max is spinning fettuccine around his fork and holding it up to Daniel. Stroopwaffles and memories as Daniel leans in and bites it off Max's fork.

Max stares at Daniel, unblinking. Daniel's lips are glossy. The fresh smell of herbs is cut through with the tang of their unshowered post-padel clothes and making Max's head spin. He twists another bite and offers it. Daniel takes it.

"That's good, Daniel."

Daniel makes a small noise, swallowing and glancing up and away. "Is it?"

"It is." Max sets the plate down on the coffee table, tears off a hunk of garlic bread, and sits back up. Max closes the distance between them as he hands it to Daniel. "Eat." He does. Max isn't sure if Daniel intends to be so maddening sensual as he licks off the glaze of butter and slides it into his wet mouth. Max wants to swear. He wants to pounce. He wants to feed him again and caress his cheek and take care of Daniel like no one ever has before. He grips his knees and feels everything condense like a dying star inside his chest.

"Max," Daniel says. "Sorry, I'm kind of, Jesus. I'm a bit wired right now." His brows narrow, lip bitten. "It feels good. When you do that, I like it. Sorry, it's weird-,"

"It's not weird."

"You like feeding your mates?"

"I like feeding you."

Daniel's eyes are filled with shifting constellations. Max leans even closer.

"I like...making you feel good, Daniel."

"Max."

"Can I," Max looks down at his stomach, hand hesitating in the air above his skin. "I know, it's maybe too much. I can stop."

"No, Jesus Christ, Max. Don't stop."

Daniel closes the distance, tenderly ushering Max's the final few inches to rest on his belly. Max bites his lip, hands drifting along his full weight and caressing the circumference of it. Daniel's hips tremble as Max holds it and gives it a gentle shake. He draws invisible tracks along his body. Pushing his shirt up, Max slips his hands under the fabric and cups Daniel's tits.

"Max," Daniel breathes.

"Are you going to get bigger for me, Daniel?"

"Yes." Max squeezes his breasts, feeling their pliable give.

"Is this good?"

"Yes," Daniel breathes. Another harder squeeze, fingers pinching hardening nipples. "Christ, yes, Max." He chokes on a sob. "I don't know what's happening to me, why this is so fucking hot but just don't stop, Max. Please don't stop."

Max leans up to straddle Daniel's waist, mental restraints dissolved as the dying star falls in on itself and explodes outward, vaporizing everything inside him with raw need.

His hands slip out and then up to cup Daniel's neck, feeling Daniel's pulse throb under his skin. Daniel's eyes leak, and Max licks the salty bead of water off his cheekbone. Max feels he could lick every inch of him clean, eager to care, eager to please. Daniel whines as Max gets up for a moment. He picks up one of the small arancini balls and sits back on Daniel's lap.

The moment is taught, soaked with uncertainty and heat. Max copies Daniel, licking the sweet surface in a languid pull before putting it in his own mouth. He doesn't bite down but holds it gently not to crush it as he cocks Daniel's head with his hands. Daniel closes the distance, mouth opening to meet his as Max pushes with his tongue to guide the smooth, damp orb into Daniel's mouth.

Max kisses along his cheeks as Daniel chews and swallows. He feels dizzy and nearly throbbing over with life and need. It feels too intimate, despite it all, to kiss him.

"It's okay," Daniel says, as if reading his mind. Now it's Daniel's turn to guide Max's face to his. "Unless I'm being a major home-wrecker right now."

"Oh, no. I, um, I have a hall pass."

Daniel laughs, eyes crinkling in mirth. "Really? For me? That's funny."

"Why?"

"You've been mine," Daniel looks off, "for like, an embarrassingly long time."

"Oh. Same." Nothing more eloquent is coming out when Daniel squirms and brushes against his hard length. "Oh, God."

"And you still want to use that hall pass now? I've been hotter for years and now you're letting me in on this?"

"You're hot then and now, Daniel. Especially now." He groans as Daniel grinds up again. "You're so stunning. Your body, Daniel. I love how you are right now. So alive and full and I-" A sharp curse and groan as Daniel pulls Max's hips down to his for another, harder bought of friction through too many layers of clothes. "Daniel."

"Thanks for making me feel good, Maxy. For taking care of me. I might," he breaths a smaller laugh, soft and quiet, "I may need this more than just now."

"Anytime. Daniel, I'll always take care of you."

Daniel's hands guide Max into his lips. It's bliss and sweet to the taste.

"Then let me take care of you, too," Daniel says. His hand slips lower, stroking along Max's length. Max gives in, scattered star dust in his chest making him feel shimmery and endless as he melts into Daniel's embrace.

[khimkhim]

Small Things

I’ve always found beauty in the quiet changes of life — the way a seedling cracks its shell with imperceptible resolve, growing from unassuming seed to delicate sprout; tightly coiled shoots of verdant flesh unfurling vibrant fronds that glimmer with confident repose.

My lover, Sara, was once a sapling: slender, careful, sharpened by years of self-restraint. But love, I’ve learned, is a greenhouse. Under its humid embrace, even guarded roots swell.

The first sign was her ring. A delicate silver band I’d sized down to fit her slim finger. I told her to wait until she fit the ring but her impatience could not be reasoned with. Within a month of the ring’s resizing, she could no longer fit into it.

She told herself, “it’s probably just hormones, a bit of swelling that’ll go away in a few days.” She left the uncomfortable ring off for a week and tried again after the water weight diminished — sure enough, it fit again! Wait, “oh no” she said to herself. It wasn’t wearable for more than an hour so she hid it away again, concealing a portent she wasn’t willing to accept yet.

A week or two later, I decide to finally ask her why she hadn’t worn her ring, joking that she must’ve lost it. She opened a drawer filled with rings and told me she thinks she’s gained a bit of weight. Almost none of her rings fit her. I feel my skin begin to flush as I look down at the rings. She began showing me how even her big rings no longer passed her knuckle. I looked down at the floor to compose myself before reassuring her that she looks amazing.

I said “Maybe it’s the summer heat that’s causing some swelling in the extremities. The same thing happens to me, especially if I don’t drink enough water.”

It was not a lie; she looked largely the same besides a subtle roundness to her face, hips, and arms, juxtaposing the petite, lithe girl I met a few months ago — but I’d be lying if I said my heart rate wasn’t piqued as I watched her struggle to fit into those rings that fit so recently.

She replied, “You think so? I guess I could be better at my water intake…”

“Of course, it’s not uncommon at all, don’t stress it.”

…

I have a feeling that feeders tend to possess greater powers of observation than most. Voyeurism seems to be an implicit aspect of our kind, except our type of voyeurism is more discrete than its usual form. We’re not watching people undress or have sex through a window; we simply observe people the same way everyone else does.

The contrast lies in our internal monologue:

“Did her side profile always have that little double chin? It seems like she no longer needs a belt for those pants… Am I crazy or have her arms started to get bigger? I know that dress is supposed to be tight but the fabric around the buttons is visibly stretching… Did she always burp this much? Wow, she really enjoys unbuttoning her pants after dinner almost every night now.”

As we progressed into a more exclusive relationship, her shift in eating habits was immediate. She was still a slow eater but a persistent one, leaving her plates empty before asking for my leftovers or another serving. With saucy dishes, she licked the dish clean, savoring every bit of flavor, punctuating a delicious meal with a modest belch.

It’s odd because our form of voyeurism is permissible — Sara’s existence is sensual to me in a way I can’t fully control, which means permissibility can easily drift into exploitation if one’s appetites lean toward excess.

I’m sure some of us relish the surreptitious aspect of this kink more than others; One might encourage a girl to wear clothes a size too small when going out, or arrange her laundry so that her large or athletic clothes are easier to access than her smaller ones, or continuously deny that you notice her weight gain despite your growing attentiveness towards her love handles and tummy while cuddling. Some might even go a step further, an awful, immoral step further, and become shameless servants to her every whim, craving, and fleeting desire.

Is it really so vile to find pleasure in giving pleasure?

To be honest, my convictions were loose from the start. I quickly took note of what her favorite foods were, what she craved when she was on her period, what time she took her lunch breaks, etc. In many ways, I simply wanted to be a loving and attentive partner. In more sincere ways, I couldn’t help myself.

I would make homemade teriyaki bowls and gyoza and take them to her at lunch, defer to what she wanted to eat for dinner whether it was takeout or cooking, never finish my plate and offered her what was left. I’d prepare whatever dessert she craved whether it was cookies, pie, brownies, French toast, etc. She never had to verbalize a craving or desire twice to me. I was and am a willing captive to her appetites, and she an eager patron of indulgence.

The rapture of our relationship concealed the growing number of changes enveloping her. Small changes began to compound. The range of her preferred clothes became noticeably smaller, as did the size of those outfits around her figure. It became a morning ritual to watch her hop and shimmy her growing thighs and ass into pants that were loose a few months ago. Belts were a necessity of a bygone era; in fact, she started to utilize the rubberband trick just to keep her pants closed as she could no longer button them. It was only a few weeks ago that I noticed her consistently unbuttoning her pants after dinner to let her tummy breathe — now her pants were lucky to still be buttoned by the time she got in the door. Large sweatshirts and baggy shirts became a necessity.

She sensed the growing softness of her body, a softness that was once a whisper capable of being shoved into a jewelry box, was now pleading to be emancipated from her strained skims. She stuffed her supple body into them, hiking the hem up below the bottom of her swelling breasts, before glancing in the mirror and realizing she still looks 7 months pregnant. “It’s bloating,” she said to herself as she hurriedly slipped into her technically socially acceptable sweatpants and sports bra (now a majority of her daily outfits).

She hurried into the kitchen, her breasts nearly bouncing out of her bra. I hand her a breakfast burrito which had become her part of her morning ritual, a habit that no doubt assisted in the colonization of her wardrobe by athletic wear. She flurried out the door before stopping and yelling “babe, can you bring me a McFlurry for my lunch today? Please?”

I smile and run to kiss her, “yes, of course, have a good day, baby.”

It’s funny that she even feels the need to ask politely. I suppose even the loveliest flowers practice humility in the morning twilight. Her soft new growth finally cresting over the edge of their stifling pot, ready to bask in the perfumed sunshine they’ve unknowingly sought since the first broadening of their leaves. Her smile was already arresting in its organic beauty; her body could commit excessive force without even touching you. Even small changes on a marmoreal body like hers could spell ruin for an empire, and I’m just a man! Yet in true Hellenistic fashion, I’d gladly follow her muse to the end of history and exalt her with my final breath.

God, I love admiring small changes, the stretch in the seams of her jeans, the steadily growing pile of clothes in our Good Will donation storage bucket, the soft imprint of her breasts spilling over the top of her outgrown bras whenever she wears thin shirts. I tell myself that I’m just a passive observer, a lover without ideology or allegiance. Perhaps this mantra protects me from the truth of my cravings, prolongs the story that I hope never ends. My denial facilitates her denial — if I’m a lover without cause then she’s a piggy without fault.

To her dismay, all of her clothes are starting to feel suffocating. Yet, she’s resistant to buying new ones — wasn’t it only a few months ago that she promised herself to get back down to 120lbs? Is she really on the verge of outgrowing her “chubby” clothes that she never even meant to keep?

At times, it seems as though she’s aware of what is happening, noticing my fascination and attention toward her growing body. She catches me looking at her belly when she leaves the shower before quickly covering herself with a towel. She notices that my hand prefers to rest on her stomach when cuddling, and in response, she’s now gently nudges my hand onto her belly without a word spoken. Sometimes she even openly acknowledges her weight gain, the tightening of her clothes, the swelling of her breasts and hips, while maintaining an almost playful tone.

We were laying in bed one night when she suddenly says, “Remember when this used to be loose?' she whispers, guiding my hands to her hips where her old 'comfy' pajama shorts now cut into her flesh. The elastic waistband had become a demarcation line, creating a soft roll of pudge that spilled over the top. I trace the deep imprints left in her skin, marking where she'd grown too plump for her loungewear. She shivers at my touch, and I pull my hand away, “sorry, didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

She says “no, it just felt… good. I like when you touch my hips, maybe you could even kiss them…”

I bend down over the roll of soft pudge that was exposed and gently kiss it. She laughs, “sorry, that tickled, maybe bite it a little, like you’re giving a hickey.”

I did as I was told, gripping her soft thigh while aggressively sucking on her love handle. She moaned. She said “Hm, that felt good, maybe you should incorporate that into your bag of tricks for next time.”

She grins and rolls over to sleep, followed shortly by a soft snoring. “Huh” I muse to myself.

A few days later, I walk into the bedroom as she’s struggling to find what fits and what doesn’t. I debate whether I should tell her about my predilections or not. I’ve given most of my self to her already, but there’s still that awkward, unspoken crumb I’ve yet to give her. Small changes go both ways, right?

As she stood in front of the mirror, sighing at the way her sweater clung to her newly rounded hips, I linger in the doorway. “You’re staring again,” she says, not turning around. Her voice was light, but her knuckles whitened on the hem of the fabric.

“Not staring,” I say. “Admiring.”

She meets my eyes in the reflection, a flicker of vulnerability in her gaze. “You’d tell me, wouldn’t you? If this… bothered you?”

I step closer, my hands hovering at her waist. “Does it bother *you*?”

She hesitates, then leans back into me. “Sometimes. But not when you look at me like that.”

My thumbs traces the curve of her love handles. “Like what?”

“Like I’m something to worship,” she whispers.

I grip her tightly, kissing her gently on her forehead.

“You have no idea how much I worship you, Sara.”

In that moment, I tell her everything, even the voyeuristic aspect of it. I admit that my obsession with pleasing her is both an expression of genuine love and an aspect of my sexuality that I genuinely do not know how to disentangle.

“No matter what, my infatuation is not transient or dependent on a single thing other than you. I have loved you from the beginning and I’ve loved you more every day since.”

She looks up at me and chuckles “You’ve loved me everyday since because I’ve been fatter every day since?”

“Stop, I’m being serious” I say while laughing.

“I know” she whispers as she melts into my arms.

Despite revealing everything to Sara, I did not feel the relief that I hoped to feel. We went about our days as normal, not really acknowledging what had happened. I still cupped her curves when we cuddled and kissed every part of her when intimate, but there was tension that existed where none existed before. I wondered if I had ruined things. If I had ruined us.

In order to reignite our connection, I planned an elaborate date night at home that included her favorite flowers, a sparkling tennis bracelet, her favorite meal, dessert, and a movie. She seemed caught off guard when she came home, followed by gratitude. Around midnight, we lumbered to bed without much energy for sex, just cuddling.

As we laid down, I noticed her shirt rode up as she stretched, revealing a sliver of stomach. My breath caught—not at the softness, but at three faint, parallel lines glowing pink in the lamplight. She followed my gaze and yanked her shirt down. “Bug bites,” she said too quickly.

I said nothing. But that night, I dreamt of roots breaking through soil, of bark splitting to make room for new life.

The next day, Sara wondered at her body as she washed herself in the shower. With small physical changes comes small psychological changes as well, and both begin to work upon the other, gaining more and more inertia before bursting into a new, spacious expanse. Anxious excitement swelled within her as she examined herself in the mirror as she began to dress herself for the day.

For years, she kept herself closed off and focused on moving forward, occasionally allowing herself to be accompanied by one of the many suitors that buzzed around her. After experiencing abuse in her youth, finding herself warped into an object of desire for another to use, she guarded every part of herself. Beauty, pleasure, desire — these concepts were things she craved, feared, and utilized for her benefit and maturation. Her power over them meant she had power over the way others perceived and treated her.

Then she met someone that had no interest in taking away her control, instead offering himself to her. She was invited to be seen and acknowledged as a whole person and not just a delicate, pretty flower to be admired and discarded. She resisted at first, unaccustomed to being treated with sincerity and reverence. Then, she blinked. She opened her eyes and found herself in a state of abandonment, her world usurped by love — their world.

This was the catalyst that cracked the small, unassuming seed deep inside of her. Their love strengthened as the days passed, providing more nourishment for the budding flesh inside of her. Her self-confidence was rooted in a new foundation defined by security and unconditional love. Had this not been the case, she probably would not have ignored her weight gain for as long as she had. Fears over her body faded whenever loving hands massaged her back, rubbing her knotted insecurities into oblivion as he’d dig into a tense spot with one hand and conspicuously rest his other hand on her love handle, kneading with both hands as she felt herself losing all resistance… slipping away…

*SNAP*

The sound of threading ripping jolted her from her daydream. She looked down just in time to watch the button of her largest jeans shoot across the bathroom like a silver bullet, pinging off the mirror before rolling under the sink. The denim gaped open, revealing the deep creases her softening belly had worn into the fabric's stress points. She ran her fingers over the reddish indent marks stretching across her hips, she held both hands around her paunch, grasping its heft.

“No wonder these pants finally gave up” she thought as she sighed and bent down to get the button…

*RIP*

“Are you kidding me,” she couldn’t help but laugh out loud to herself as leaned up, turned around, and saw a large tear down the middle of her pants revealing her purple panties.

She remembered something I had mentioned the other day about my kink, how she kept acting out his fantasies without even realizing it. She remembered me telling her that I had to hide my erection every time she struggled to put on clothes clearly too small for her. “Hmm,” she thought, before folding the torn pants, placing them on the bathroom counter with the tear facing up, and the button resting right next to it.

She took one of her lipsticks uncapped it, hand hovering near the mirror as butterflies danced in her stomach. Was she really about to do this? The torn pants on the counter seemed to dare her forward. She thought about how his breath caught whenever she complained about her clothes getting tight, how his hands seemed magnetically drawn to her softest parts. The lipstick touched glass and her heart raced as she began to write, each letter a small act of liberation, a reflection traced with crimson streaks like the stretchmarks she’d once resented.

[riririnnnn]

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Disclaimer: This piece of writing isn't supposed to be looked through the lenses of a cat expert. Everything is just for fun.

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Cat Lock! Blue Lock characters as Cats!

-> Michael Kaiser

❍ You found him in a dumpster. I don't make the rules, it's canon—trust me, Kaneshiro-san himself told me.

❍ High maintenance. Doesn't eat low quality cat food, but will munch the leftovers from your plate as if it were the last meal he is having.

❍ Will hiss at anyone who isn't you.

❍ Will not allow anyone to touch him except you.

❍ Glares at you when you smell like any other cat.

❍ Your lap? No, it's his lap since the day he first touched them with his paws. He has claimed it for himself and even Gods can't change his mind.

❍ Bites you during minor inconveniences, but at the end of the day, he always leaves his bed to sleep on your fucking face.

❍ Very photogenic.

❍ Headbutts to ask for head pats and looks at you as if they are his birth rights. (They are.)

-> Mikage Reo

⊂⊃ Pathetic wet cat. Very pathetic (affectionate).

⊂⊃ Whines a lot.

⊂⊃ You smell like some other cat? Whines. You smell like someone else? Whines. You came one minute extra late from your work? WHINES.

⊂⊃ Will collect coins or any circular coin-like thing and proudly gives them to you.

⊂⊃ Cuddling 24/7. Will knead biscuits on your cheeks.

⊂⊃ Will lick your face 24/7.

⊂⊃ CLINGY!

⊂⊃ Stays by the door and whines, "Meow? Meow?" for a good 10 minutes after you go outside and leave him alone.

⊂⊃ Will not appreciate you bringing a lover home 'cause that way, you don't give him attention 24/7.

⊂⊃ Will get in between of you and your lover's cuddling time.

-> Kurona Ranze

⛧ tiny.

⛧ Sharp teeth and claws.

⛧ Nibbles on your fingers daily. Don't worry, he is very careful.

⛧ However, if you fake hurt, he'll stop immediately.

⛧ Then will look at you with a sorry expression and give little licks on the bite marks. Will also bring his favourite plush toy and give it to you as an apology.

⛧ Loves your warmth and wants to stay nestled against your chest.

⛧ Patiently waits for you to get back home and always greets you at the door with a small, "Meow~"

⛧ Never refuses your head pats.

⛧ Loves to watch TV with you, especially those TV shows related to Sharks.

-> Bachira Meguru

ღ ZOOMIES! ZOOMIES! ZOOMIES!

ღ Very energetic.

ღ Doesn't understand human furnitures much, so he bonks himself into them during his zoomies.

ღ Doesn't understand the concept of personal space. Will barge into the bathroom while you try to take a dump.

ღ Will try to slurp your bathwater.

ღ Treats! Treats! Treats!

ღ Snuggles up at the crook of your neck to take a nap.

ღ Will proudly bring bugs, lizards, mice and some snakes to you as a gift.

ღ Wakes you up in the morning by jumping all over you and licking your face.

ღ Will try to feed you his cat treats and cat food.

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Hope everything is in character.

Might make more for other characters.

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[crackedpumpkin]

ʙʟᴀɴᴋ ᴄᴀɴᴠᴀꜱ || ᴘᴛ. ᴏɴᴇ ||

[ 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ] | [ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ]

“If there is a god out there, please make sure my order isn’t missing any pickles this time.”

“Here ya go, extra pickles on the side,” Mr. Perez, the store owner, grunts as he all but flings a wrapped sub into your hands from behind the counter. You grab it with relative ease, undeterred by how oddly soggy the parchment paper is. It’s a slow day in the sub shop, with many of its usual customers absent. 

“How much?” 

“Five bucks.”

“How’s Didi?” You ask, fishing out a crumpled five-dollar bill in your pocket and handing it to him. You drop another into the tip jar when his back is turned, humming innocently when he faces you with a bag of small cookies.

“The usual. Slightly less of the devil incarnate lately, though. I think it’s because you’re coming over to babysit more often.” You take the cookies gratefully, a small note written in the ten-year-old’s messy scrawl glued to the side. You stash it away in your backpack, ensuring it doesn’t get crushed behind your sketchbook and pencil case.

“Is that y/n?��� You hear the clatter of plates being shoved aside, Didi peeking out from behind the blinds that separate the storefront from the stairs that lead upstairs to their house. You smile but realize she won’t be able to see it through your cloth mask.

“In the flesh,” You grin, scooping Didi into a tight hug. You prop her on your hip, transferring the sub to your free hand as she giggles. “Have you made any new friends in school?”

Her lips purse into a pout, fiddling with your hair with sulky eyes. “No…They’re all stinky. Except for Maribelle, because she likes pickles.”

“Does no one else like pickles, then?” You ask curiously, Didi shaking her head. 

“Tommy and Jam like them, but they’re boys,” She informs you in complete and utter seriousness. You’re so tempted to comment, but you know that if you did, she’d sulk for at least half an hour.

“Jam?”

“Yeah, Jam.”

“Are you sure that’s his name?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright then,” You shrug, turning your head to the side so she can’t see the amused glint in your eyes. 

“Are you headed to the bank?” Mr. Perez asks offhandedly, cleaning one of his bread knives with a damp cloth.

“Gotta cash in the moolah,” You rub your fingers together in reference to the cheque that’s buried somewhere in the bottom of the heavy bag on your shoulders. You had recently finished a commission, and your client had tipped you generously, paying you an extra fifty bucks on top of the two hundred she was already paying. 

“Can I come? I wanna come. I’m going,” Didi demands as she braids a few strands of your hair. You look back at Mr. Perez for permission, the gruff man nodding in response. 

“Okay, but make sure you always stay with me, yeah?” Didi nods eagerly, kicking your side slightly as she points to the door. You leave the store with her in your arms, making your way to the bank. 

“Can we buy Legos?” You hum in thought, trying to decide how to reject Didi’s request without being too harsh. She tugs the beanie on your head, and it slides down to just above your eyes. You chuckle, using the back of your preoccupied sub-carrying hand to shift it back up slightly.

“Do you have enough money to buy some?”

“I got money!” Didi’s small hands search her pockets, patting down until she finds what she’s looking for. She pulls out a ten-dollar bill with a triumphant smile, eyes shining with anticipation as she looks at you. 

“Then we’ll buy some on the way back, yeah?” You offer, already seeing the money leave your wallet when you pay for the leftover cost of the Lego set.

“Hmm…Okay!” Didi agrees after a moment of thought, clapping her hands together and urging you to walk faster. You break into a slight jog just to tease her, soon reaching the doors of the large bank. 

You push past the huge glass doors with your shoulder, the sub still in your hands. You couldn’t put it in your bag, fearing it’d ruin your cherished sketchbook and, even worse, the crumpled cheque buried somewhere near it. 

You eye the long lines for each counter, groaning at the thought of a prolonged wait. You scan the hall, trying to find the shortest queue. 

There. You quickly join the line of people waiting, breathing a sigh of relief when you see a few more people join your queue right after you do. The bank is mostly quiet; the only sounds are fingers clacking away on keyboards and hushed conversations of bank account details. 

A trio of men wearing black cloth masks stand in a corner, furtively glancing around and having a hushed conversation amongst themselves. Two large bags are on the floor next to the shortest one, all three nodding at each other before the other two pick up the bags and head towards the door while the shortest approaches the information counter with another bag slung on his hip.

Huh. Maybe they have social anxiety. 

You watch them converse with the clerk, half your attention on Didi, who’s tugging on your hair while braiding it out of boredom. You spot the clerk smiling nervously in your peripheral, brushing it off as the usual horrible customer service interaction.

You focus on Didi instead, jostling her slightly in your arms. She yelps, lips pursing into a scowl when she’s disturbed from her concentrated braiding. You giggle, entertained by her reaction. You lean in, bumping your head against hers in a gentle tease.

The doors slam shut.

You flinch at the sudden sound, turning to see the two men from earlier at the entrance. Each stands in front of the doors, arms crossed with two large rifles in their hand as they quickly adorn ski masks. The man at the information counter now has a gun in their hands, pointing it up at the ceiling and firing a single shot.

The loud bang startles Didi, who instantly covers her ears, pushing her head against your shoulder with a small squeak. You protectively hold her close to you, ready to shield her body with your own in case anything happens. 

“Everyone drop everything, get down on the ground, and lift your hands now!”

You slowly sink to the ground, eyes never leaving the guns in their hands. This situation is the opposite of ideal. Being held hostage isn’t exactly part of your five-year plan for graduation. The doors are guarded by the guards, dark silhouettes blocking the sunlight.

“Hey! I said to drop everything and lift up your hands,” One of the robbers guarding the doors earlier points a gun straight at you with a glare. You look from the weapon to the sub in your hands, reluctant to let go. 

“I said, drop it!” 

You gingerly set it down with a defeated sigh. “You happy now?” You ask him with a scowl. He steps towards you, still aiming his gun at you as he picks up your sub and throws it to the side. It lands with a plop onto the dirty ground, now a ruined mess.

“Wha- My sub!” You complain with an offended gasp, now glaring at the man who just destroyed your dinner. You see the arch of his brow beneath his thin ski mask, exchanging a confused look with his accomplice.

“You do know this is loaded, right?” He questions with a wave of his gun.

“You just threw away a perfectly fine sub! It even had extra pickles!” You argue, still mourning the loss of your dinner. Setting down your sub you could deal with. But flinging it against the wall? That was absolutely uncalled for. “You’re a maniac,” You seethe, your jaw clenched as you shoot him the coldest glare you can muster.

You hear tiny sniffles and a loud hiccup from beside you, looking down to see Didi’s scrunched nose with snot dripping down it and tears streaming down her red cheeks. Her lips are pressed tightly together, but you know she’s about to start wailing.

“Hey, hey, Didi,” You call out to her gently, ignoring the robber that watches you intently. “Let’s play a game of patty cake, okay?” You offer, holding out your hands. She places her small ones in yours, and you curl your fingers to cover her own. 

“I’m scared,” She hiccups, her sniffles growing louder by the minute. You shush her with a reassuring smile, thinking of a way to soothe her. 

“Oi! You sure have a death wish, lil’ missy.” You hear the cock of a gun behind you, turning to see it being pointed straight at you. “I already said: hands up where I can see ‘em.” 

“Look, do you want to handle a wailing child that’s bound to attract attention? Or do you want me to calm her down so none of us get a headache?” 

After a moment of deliberation, he moves his gun down to his side. “I’m watching you,” He warns.

“Yeah, yeah, as if I’d forget.” You huff with a roll of your eyes, crossing your legs and sitting down with Didi in your lap. “Now, where were we?”

You continue playing patty cake with the trembling girl after coaxing her into removing her hands from her ears. The shortest robber, who seems to be the ringleader of the three, is preoccupied with getting the clerk to empty the enormous vault at the back, stuffing bundles of cash into the large duffel bags they had carried with them earlier.

It’s tense.

Everyone chooses to stay silent, their shaky hands and terrified eyes a pleasure to the thugs. You risk a quick glance around, wondering when the hell Spiderman would show up. Isn’t this in his job description? Was he even getting paid? 

Someone knocks on the door.

The two crooks guarding the doors turn instantly, pointing their guns at a familiar figure with their hands raised in surrender.

“Yo! I came here to negotiate, not to fight.”

They look to their ringleader for a response, the latter giving them a nod and gesturing to their guns warily. They nod at each other, hoisting their weapons closer to their chest and opening one of the doors. 

Before they can react, Spiderman drops to the floor, immediately kicking their guns out of their hands. They land on the floor with a clatter. “You should really think twice before opening the door for strangers,” He chides, nimbly avoiding a harsh blow from the two thugs surrounding him.

That’s a nice suit.

Your eyes automatically follow him as he swings, dodges, and takes out the robbers in mere minutes. He’s nimble, avoiding each blow and disarming the vicious crooks that threaten to fire. 

“One step closer, and she’s dead meat!” 

Didi’s body is grabbed from your arms, and you look up in horror as the robber that threatened you earlier holds his gun close to the small child. Tears are dribbling down her cheeks uncontrollably, choking on her stifled sniffles. 

“Woah, woah, woah,” The masked vigilante halts in his steps, hands raised up, “Threatening a kid? That’s not gonna look good on your record, man.”

“Then put your hands up, walk to the wall, and give up!” 

“Wait!” You scramble to your feet, freezing as soon as you do. The robber presses the gun barrel closer to Didi’s shoulder, an ice-cold grip of fear crawling down your spine at the sight. 

You can’t let her get hurt. You rack your brains, trying to figure out a good distraction for Spiderman to take action. “I-I’m pretty sure I’m gonna die, but I just have to say something.”

“Get down on the floor!” The robber shouts harshly, fed up with the kids that keep bothering his easy getaway. You slowly kneel back down, never breaking eye contact with Didi, whose cheeks turn redder by the second. You spot Spiderman’s finger slowly moving to press his web shooter, eyes darting between him and Didi. An idea takes form in your mind, but it’s risky.

You pause, swallowing nervously. “Didi… I’m the one that broke BunBun.”

She screams. 

The ear-splitting sound makes the robber wince, dropping her to cover his ears. Spiderman seizes the opportunity, using his web fluid to grab his gun and toss it away in the far corner of the bank. He immediately gets to work through Didi’s screaming, effortlessly capturing the last robber and throwing him aside in a cocoon fashioned out of his web fluid. 

You grab Didi, scuttling back into your corner of safety and trying to placate her. You gently rock her in your arms, letting her cry into your shirt. The collar is now soaked with her tears, and you’re beginning to regret confessing to the crime of having accidentally broken one of her favourite plates. You’d blamed it on the passing wind, and she bought it.

“Hey guys, y’all are safe now.” You look back up at Spiderman, who leans against the wall near you, scanning the crowd of relieved people who cheer for his bravery. He chuckles, casually shrugging as he tries to brush off the praise. He double-checks if anyone is hurt, his gaze lingering on you for a split second.

He gives you a brief nod and a friendly two-fingered salute, and you tiredly reciprocate the gesture with a still-crying Didi in your arms. His head moves back slightly in a wince (well, you’re pretty sure it’s a wince. You can’t really tell with his mask and everything.), and for a moment, you feel as though he’s sympathizing with you. 

He takes his leave through the glass doors, Spiderman-style, with his web-slinging skills and whatnot. You’re left with the aftermath of the police finally showing up, the crying child deterring them from asking you any further questions besides a short testimony.

“Didi, it’s over now. We’re safe.” You try to soothe her by gently patting her head and hugging her tightly briefly. You’re sure your shirt is soaked by now. It baffles you how a child has so much water in their system that they still sob even after half an hour.

It took an apology, three Lego sets, and a future promise for another at Christmas to get her to stop crying.

— — — — — 

The bed creaks noisily when you collapse on it with an exhausted groan, the sound a subtle sign of the old bed frame threatening to break any day now. The glow-in-the-dark stars glued onto your ceiling shines softly, the chilly breeze of Brooklyn gusting through your open window. You’d dropped off Didi on your way home, reassuring Mr. Perez that she was unharmed.

You shiver, getting up to close the window before hanging your beanie on the clothing hooks behind your door. You turn on the switch to the lamp on your desk, the warm yellow light coating your room with a cozy atmosphere.

Your stomach growls, a reminder of your delicious dinner having been a victim in the whole hostage situation from earlier. You sigh. Whatever. You’d grab a bigger breakfast tomorrow instead. For now, though, a simple protein bar from your snack drawer would have to do. 

You unwrap it and bite down, munching hungrily while grabbing your sketchbook from your bag and laying it flat on your desk. You flip the pages, eyeing the empty pages with distaste. Page after page of drawings that didn’t meet your standards make your heart sink. 

You finally land on an empty page and grab a pencil with your free hand. You tap the end onto the blank paper impatiently, trying to think of more inspiration for your next work. You’d been in a slump lately, and while commissions did give you some extra pocket money to go cafe hopping, it didn’t help much with your lack of artistic creativity.

Your hands itch to sketch out an idea. Anything would do. The only problem is that your brain can’t provide even a smidgen of inspiration. You huff, leaning back in your chair.

You sit up straight and scooch closer to the paper, hoping that maybe that’d trigger some form of idea.

Nope. Nothing. Nothing hits you. 

Maybe it’s the happenings of today as well, what with a gun being pointed at you and helping your friendly neighbourhood Spiderman take down those thugs. You grin, recalling how Didi’s scream had impacted the poor goon, lips tugging down slightly at the reminder of your now empty wallet.

You’d have to find another commission soon. 

Maybe Spiderman would want one?

You begin to doodle absentmindedly, the scratching of lead against paper a soothing sound that practically lulls you into a trance. You recall the red spray paint of a jagged spider against the black suit, the design of it so simplistic and yet representing his personality so well. 

You remember his quick nod to you and silly salute, a chuckle slipping past your lips. How did he look like again? His elbow was bent, and two fingers were placed on his forehead as he leaned against the wall. He’s relatively lean, you recall, and probably taller than you too. It’s difficult to gauge since you were in a rather sticky situation that called for hunched shoulders and hesitant movements.

Your hand moves as if it’s got a mind of its own, recalling the webbed pattern on his suit. You draw and draw, adding shading after a basic outline is done. Your mind is foggy, no other thoughts remain except to transfer your memory onto paper. 

Wow.

You stare down at what you’ve just drawn, taking in the overall sketch with a shaky exhale. It’s the best you’ve done in a long while, with all the details contributing to the final product. 

It’s exactly as you remember, having drawn Spiderman giving you that silly salute while leaning against the tiled walls. You’d even shaded his suit perfectly.

You’re breathless. Is this really your work? From your own two hands, no less? It’s probably a one-off thing, but boy, does it feel good. Maybe thinking about Spiderman is the main reason why.

You giggle at the entertaining thought, shaking your head. 

It’s probably just the adrenaline.

[mca-attack21]

Love Can Hurt (Jeremiah x Conklin Reader)

A/N: There are season 1/2 spoilers

It was rare that you came to see Susannah on your own, usually you were with your mom. You came to visit more often than Steven or Belly, both because you wanted to see Susannah and because you wanted to check in on Jeremiah. Last summer had put him in a weird spot with Conrad and Belly, so you made a point to be there for him. At least that’s what you told yourself. The truth is you have always gone out of your way for Jeremiah. So of course, you came when he asked if you could stay with his mom during homecoming, even if the phone call broke your heart.

“Hey Y/n/n, how are you doing?”

“I’m alright Jere, is everything okay?”

“Yeah, I just have a question for you.”

“Of course.”

“Homecoming is this Saturday-” you could not believe what you were hearing, Jeremiah Fisher - the boy you’ve dreamed about being with was actually, “I was planning to go with Blake, but I don’t want to leave my mom home alone. We might get a hotel room. I was hoping you could come stay the weekend. She always loves seeing you.”

Your breath caught in your throat. You had to take a second before answering so your voice wouldn’t give you away. “Of course Jere, you deserve a night to be a normal teenager without the weight of the world on your shoulders. I’ll come up Friday after school.”

“Oh my god, you’re the best. I’ll totally owe you one.”

“It’s no problem Jere, I’ll see you Friday.” You hurriedly end the call, pulling your knees to your chest. Losing the fight to keep your tears at bay. Sometimes you wished you could stop loving him. 

You walked in the door with groceries and set them on the counter. Every time you visited, you would restock the cabinets and fridge. It used to be Susannah who would make sure everyone’s favorites were in the house. It was a small thing, but you felt like it was the least you could do. You went to check in on her, but she was sleeping so you decided to let her rest. You peek in Jeremiah’s room, straightening it up a bit and making his bed. He would be home soon, so you started to make him his favorite dinner.

You don’t know exactly when it happened, that you fell for him. Jeremiah always cared so much about the people around him, he was the most charismatic person you had ever met. He had this energy about him that illuminated any room he was in. Since he found out about his mom, that sparkle dimmed ever so slightly. No one seemed to really notice the toll that all of this was taking on him, except you. You could see through the fake smiles, to the sadness, stress, and fear. You tried to be there for him as much as he would let you. You comforted him through the pain Belly caused, took as much off his shoulders as you could, but you wished there was more you could do. 

You were so deep in your thoughts, you hadn’t even heard him come in. “Y/n?” he called out. 

“In the kitchen Jere.” 

“I’m so glad you’re here,” he wrapped his arms around you from behind, resting his head in the crook of your neck. “That smells delicious, I’m gonna head up and take a shower, check on mom, okay?”

“Yeah, sure.” 

The two of you ate together, catching up. He told you about being nominated homecoming king, which didn’t surprise you at all. With some convincing you got Jere to let you take care of the receipts for the insurance companies while you were there. It was one more thing to take off his plate. When you were both done eating, you took care of the leftovers and did the dishes while he went off to play video games. 

The next day you spent most of your time with Susannah, who was having one of her better days. She was so excited to see Jeremiah going to Homecoming. You were doing fine with it all until his date arrived. 

“Y/n, can you do me a favor and go take pictures of Jere and Blake. I don’t want to scare them away,” she smiled. 

“Of course.”

You took her phone downstairs. Seeing him all dressed up, smiling, laughing, and excited brought mixed emotions. Of course you wanted him to be happy, but watching him with Blake reminded you of having to watch him with Belly this summer. There was a part of you that wished it was you. 

You took the photos, wished them both fun, and went back upstairs to watch movies with Susannah. Right away, she could tell something was off. Of course she could, sometimes you wondered if she knew you better than your own mother. 

“What’s on that brilliant mind of yours?” she asked, pausing the movie. 

“It’s nothing important,” you reply. 

“Of course it's important, because you are important.”

You didn’t know what to say, because you didn’t really know how to describe the way you were feeling without sounding pathetic. 

“This wouldn’t have something to do with Jeremiah, would it?” she asked knowingly. At the mention of his name, your strategic walls came crashing down, tears escaped your eyes. “Oh honey come here,” she said, opening her arms for a hug.

“It hurt to watch him fall for Belly and watch her toss him aside for Conrad and then it hurt tonight to see him so happy with someone else. And he’s my best friend so I get a front row ticket to watch all of it, I hear about every hookup, and I see everything that he tries to hide from everyone…”

“Oh sweetie.” She had always believed that you and Jeremiah were destined for each other the same way that Belly was destined for Conrad. It took her by surprise when Jeremiah admitted feelings for Belly, somehow, she’d missed how much it had affected you.

“Love can hurt sometimes, but that’s because it's real.”

[bbokarimenu]

Starlit Serenades

pairing: idolchangbin! x fem reader!

genre: fluff

warnings: none

an: first bin imagine 😌

Masterlist

The apartment was silent except for the soft hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen. I sat cross-legged on the couch, scrolling aimlessly through my phone, waiting for Changbin to come home. It was late—later than usual—but as the girlfriend of an idol, I was used to it.

Still, I couldn’t help but worry. He’d texted me hours ago saying he’d be done “soon,” but I knew that “soon” in the idol world didn’t mean the same thing it did for everyone else. The clock ticked past midnight when I finally heard the jingle of keys and the faint creak of the front door opening.

“Bin?” I called, setting my phone down.

“It’s me,” his voice replied, low and tired but still warm.

I jumped up from the couch as he walked in, his duffel bag slung over one shoulder, his hair slightly damp from what I assumed was a quick shower at the company. Changbin looked up at me and smiled, the kind of smile that melted my heart every single time.

“Hey, baby,” he said, kicking off his shoes and dropping his bag by the door.

“You’re so late,” I scolded lightly, crossing my arms. “You promised you’d try to get home earlier tonight.”

He winced, rubbing the back of his neck. “I know. I’m sorry. The practice ran longer than I thought, and then we had to finalize some recordings…”

I sighed, stepping closer and wrapping my arms around his waist. “It’s okay. I just missed you.”

Changbin relaxed into my embrace, his arms circling around me tightly. “I missed you too,” he murmured, resting his chin on my head. “I thought about you all day, but it’s been crazy at the studio.”

“Have you eaten?” I asked, leaning back to look up at him.

He shook his head, his dark eyes filled with exhaustion. “No, but it’s fine. I’m too tired to cook.”

“I’m not,” I said with a smile. “Go sit down. I’ll make you something.”

“You don’t have to—”

“Shh.” I pressed a finger to his lips, cutting him off. “Sit. I’ll take care of you.”

Changbin laughed softly, the sound low and comforting. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

“I try,” I teased, walking toward the kitchen.

Twenty minutes later, I placed a plate of fried rice and some leftover side dishes in front of him at the small dining table. He looked up at me with wide eyes, like I’d just handed him the moon.

“Babe, you didn’t have to go all out like this,” he said, already reaching for his chopsticks.

“It’s just fried rice,” I said with a laugh, sitting across from him. “Eat up.”

Changbin didn’t need to be told twice. He dug in eagerly, humming in appreciation after the first bite. “This is so good,” he said between mouthfuls. “Better than the company meals.”

I smiled, watching him eat. Moments like this made all the late nights and missed dates worth it. Seeing him happy, even after a long day, filled my heart in ways I couldn’t explain.

When he finally set his chopsticks down, his plate nearly empty, Changbin leaned back in his chair with a satisfied sigh. “That hit the spot,” he said, giving me a lazy grin.

“Good,” I said, standing to clear the table. “Now you can sleep without your stomach growling.”

“Wait.” Changbin grabbed my wrist, stopping me.

“What?” I asked, turning to look at him.

“Leave it for now,” he said, tugging me toward him. “Come here.”

I hesitated, glancing at the dishes. “But—”

“No buts.” He pulled me down onto his lap, wrapping his arms around my waist. “I haven’t seen you all day. I want to hold you for a bit.”

I rolled my eyes playfully but couldn’t help smiling as I settled into his embrace. “You’re such a baby sometimes,” I teased.

“And you love it,” he shot back, resting his head against my shoulder.

He wasn’t wrong.

We moved to the couch a little while later, the dishes still untouched in the kitchen. Changbin lay sprawled out with his head in my lap, his eyes closed as I ran my fingers through his soft hair.

“Tell me about your day,” he murmured, his voice low and relaxed.

“It wasn’t very exciting,” I admitted, continuing to comb through his hair. “Work was boring, as usual. Then I came home and waited for you.”

He opened one eye, peering up at me. “You make it sound like I’m some celebrity or something.”

“You are a celebrity,” I pointed out, grinning.

Changbin groaned dramatically, covering his face with his hands. “Don’t remind me. Sometimes I just want to be your boyfriend, not Seo Changbin from Stray Kids.”

“You’re always just my boyfriend,” I said, leaning down to kiss his forehead. “No matter how famous you are.”

He smiled, his hands dropping back to his sides. “Good. I like being just your boyfriend.”

As the night wore on, Changbin’s exhaustion started to catch up with him. His eyelids grew heavier, his responses slower, until he finally drifted off to sleep in my lap.

I stayed still, not wanting to disturb him. He looked so peaceful, his usual intensity replaced by a softness that made my heart ache.

“Sweet dreams, Bin,” I whispered, brushing a strand of hair away from his face.

The next morning, I woke to the smell of coffee and the sound of soft humming. I rubbed my eyes, sitting up to find Changbin in the kitchen, already dressed and cooking breakfast.

“Good morning,” he said, flashing me a bright smile when he noticed me.

“You’re up early,” I said, padding over to him.

“I figured I’d let you sleep in,” he said, holding up a plate of pancakes. “Plus, I wanted to make you breakfast for once.”

My heart swelled as I took the plate from him, standing on my tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

He laughed, the sound warm and familiar. “I try.”

Over breakfast, Changbin filled me in on his plans for the day. He had another long day of practice and recording ahead, but he promised he’d try to be home earlier this time.

“And if I’m late again,” he added, his expression serious, “I’ll make it up to you this weekend. We can do whatever you want.”

“Even if it’s just staying home and watching movies?” I asked.

“Especially if it’s just staying home and watching movies,” he said with a grin.

As he left for work, I stood by the door, watching him go. It wasn’t always easy being the girlfriend of an idol, but moments like these made it all worth it.

Changbin turned back at the last second, blowing me a kiss before disappearing down the hall.

I smiled, my heart full.

“See you later, Bin.”