#have i talked about his signature i love his signature

[mattsangelbaby]

⋆.˚✮ please please please . . chris sturn.

𝜗᭪ warnings ! smut, p in v (unprotected), slight angst, etc.

in which . . fratboy!chris proves to you he’s the one, and will be the only one.

SHORT N’ SWEET writing marathon . . fic #2

the loud bass rings through your ears, along with the crowded bodies surrounding you. the air reeks of alcohol and weed — your nostrils flaring at the burning stench. frat house parties were never your favorite. the overwhelming amount of people was enough to make you want to leave. but you only came here for one thing and one thing only — chris.

you and chris are.. well you don’t really know exactly. you and chris met in this exact location about five months ago. from that time to now, you and him have had a crazy relationship one could say, from friends to benefits to basically dating. chris was a great guy. in some aspects.

he’s so sweet to you, and treats you like you both are dating. makes you feel like you’re the only girl in the world. until your not there. the minute your gone, another girl is already in his bed. you knew what you were signing up for when starting something with chris, you just thought in some way maybe he’d be different — prove you wrong.

but clearly you were right, and you were done. officially done. you move your way past people as you slightly push them out of the way finding the one person you need, going to where he always is. man spread on the couch with a joint in his mouth, with his signature smirk he always has.

you both lock eyes as chris’s eyebrows raise slightly, titling his head at you. you make your way over to him until your body is standing in between his legs, your arms crossed over your chest.

chris looks up at you, his hands making there way to your hips pulling you closer into him. “wassup’ ma,” you slightly scoff your eyes meeting anywhere but his. “got a problem?”

your eyes meet his red rimmed droopy ones, and you can’t help but stare knowing he looks way too good. “you’re my problem,” you mumble slightly moving out of his grasp. he smirks at that, letting out a slight chuckle before bringing his joint towards you, offering you some. “hm? so what’d i do this time, huh?”

you give him a dirty look, your emotions getting hard to keep at bay, before shaking your head at his offer. “what’d you do? what haven’t you done. chris i’m so tired of this, so tired of you.” he tilts your head farther at you before letting out a scoff, shaking his head slightly at your actions.

“we really gonna do this here?” you sigh quietly as you reach for his hand pulling him up from the couch. chris’s hand laces with yours, giving you a slight squeeze, letting you lead the way to his bedroom.

you both walk up the stairs to his bedroom, passing and pushing your way through. as you open his door your met with the familiar room you know so well. so many good memories spent here, and some more than others definitely for the books. chris shuts the door behind him before putting his joint out. he leans on the door, staring at you — looking you up and down. “you gonna tell me what’s up w’you, or just keep standin’ there?”

“don’t talk to me like that,” you declare desperately trying to keep yourself calm. “i can’t keep doing this anymore, chris. seriously. how are you gonna act like i’m the only girl for you then the second i’m gone, another girl is here? right in this exact room.”

his eyes widen at your statement before slightly softening at your sad expression, the glassy look in your eyes. “baby, i mean it when i say it. they mean nothin’ to me, nothin’ at all,” chris reassures you as he walks closer up to you. “that doesn’t mean anything chris. just because they mean “nothing” doesn’t mean it won’t hurt me. you don’t get to act like you love me then fuck another girl.”

chris stands right in front of you — his arms moving to wrap loosely around your waist while one hand moves up to your cheek wiping away a stray tear. “sweetheart, m’sorry. i really am my sweet girl, you’re the only girl f’me always,” he coos taking in your sad expression. “what’d i gotta do to prove it, hm?”

you shrug, your eyes looking everywhere but his. you hate how right it feels to be in his arms, you hate how much small words from him comfort you. you hate it. “i don’t know, i just want you to prove me wrong. show me i really am the only one.”

chris hums, rubbing up and down on your hips before his lips make their way to your neck. “i think i know how,” he mumbles between wet soft kisses, “jus’ gotta let me show you.”

you softly sigh as chris pushes you down gently onto the bed, his body which reeks of alcohol, weed and his cologne you know all too well, climbs ontop of yours. “chris,” you gasp as his mouth sucks and licks at the skin of your collarbone.

“shh, gotta prove to my girl she’s the only one, yeah?” chris continues to make his way down your body, kissing and touching you wherever he can. his hands make there way to the bottom of your tank top, pulling it up and over your head, your white laced bra now on display.

you reach behind your back as you unclasp your bra, dropping it onto the floor next to you. chris groans slightly at the sight of you, his mouth already kissing around your nipple. “look at my girl, prettiest one i know. my beautiful girl,” chris purrs before attaching his mouth onto your nipple, you letting out a moan as your hands lace through his brown locks.

“chris— please,” you whimper while your legs wrap around his waist, your hips beginning to buck into his trying to get the friction you need. chris pulls off with a small pop before moving to give your other boob the same attention. “i’ll give ya’ want you want ma, i promise.”

you push his head farther onto your chest, chris’s mouth feeling nothing but heaven on your needy body. he pulls off leaving a soft kiss on your nipple before beginning to kiss his way down your body. leaving a wet kiss above your shorts, his fingers find the sides of your shorts, pulling them down slowly down your legs along with your panties.

chris is met with your soaked pussy — legs spread and wide ready just for him. “you’re soaked huh? jus’ from my mouth?” you nod as your hands grip onto his biceps pulling him up towards you, slotting your lips between his. your lips harshly meet with his, your tongue sliding into chris’s mouth as he begins to pull down his shorts and boxers.

one of his hands move down to grip his cock pumping himself a few times before sliding into you with one quick thrust, your walls clenching around his length. “god this pussy was made f’me, wasn’t it?”

you nod as you begin to hold onto his shoulders as chris moves in and out of you at an intense pace, hitting that spot so so deep inside of you. “my girl, my sweet baby all mine— yeah. all mine.” his hips continue to snap against yours, one hand making it down between you two, rubbing fast circles onto your sensitive bud.

“the only one for me aren’t you? my pussy forever, hm?” you moan loudly, the feeling of him so deep inside you making you absolutely dumb on his cock. “yes! — god yes.”

chris continues to pound into you— your cries and moans filling the air as your a complete mess. no matter what chris might do you know nothing could ever beat how he makes you feel, how amazing he makes you feel every single time.

you begin to clench around chris’s cock as you arch into his movements, chasing your high your so close to reaching. “ya’ close, baby?” chris pants as he speeds up his actions, chasing his own high while you nod below him, loud pornagraphic moans leaving you.

“cum for me my girl. show me how i proved you wrong, yeah?”

© mattsangelbaby

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 ·˚ ༘ ꒱ i’m sorry this is so ass and so long but hi!

ꪆৎ˚ marathon concept and all other credits go to @delilahsturniolo :)

[aventurineswife]

(Ignore this if its already been done)

Okay, either nobody has asked about this yet, or I just haven't check correctly, with all the child related asks you'd think at least one of them would ask, talk about, or at least inform about the knowledge of the Palmar Grasp Reflex with babies.

Apparently-*Slips on my prescribed glasses, holding up an AI Overview Google Search*

'A baby's grip is surprisingly strong, often powerful enough to support their own body weight due to a reflex called the palmar grasp reflex, which causes them to instinctively clench their fists when something touches their palm; this means they can hold onto a finger or object with significant force, even as newborns'

Hm...-*Throws away Google Search and slips off glasses*

So, how exactly do you think the characters of your choosing would handle a situation where their offspring were to hit them with the Palmar Grasp Reflex? I have seen in several different cases of babies grabbing their own hair and crying because they were hurting themselves, grabbing other people's hair, and not letting go- facial hair included, along with suddenly grabbing at food- that was not for them, mind you, and succeeding in such an excavation.

It can be hilarious, really.

Caught in a Love Snare

Tags: Ratio x Reader, Aventurine x Reader, Boothill x Reader, Fluff & Humor, Established Relationship, Parenthood, Baby Shenanigans, Soft Domestic Moments, Mild Angst (if you squint), Cuteness Overload.

Warnings: Mentions of past trauma, Mild language, Crying baby (because, well, babies) (?), Brief moments of baby-induced pain (hair pulling, face grabbing, etc.), Minor frustration (parenting is tough but rewarding!).

Ratio prided himself on his intellect, but he hadn't accounted for the sheer, unrelenting will of a newborn. He sat beside you, cradling your infant in his arms, watching as the tiny hands explored the world—or, more specifically, his hair. The moment those soft fingers brushed against the violet strands draping over his eye, they clenched with the force of a scholar gripping onto forbidden knowledge.

"Hah." He smirked, attempting to gently pry his hair free. "It seems our child has an appreciation for the finer things in life. My brilliance must be genetic."

The baby cooed, eyes gleaming, and pulled tighter.

Ratio's smirk faltered. "Ah. Alright now—" He tugged lightly, but the tiny fist held firm. Your laughter didn't help his predicament.

"Maybe they just like the texture?" you teased, brushing your fingers against the baby’s cheek.

"Or they simply wish to test my patience," he mused, now strategizing an escape plan.

In the end, your intervention—combined with a careful distraction using a soft cloth—saved his dignity. But as he adjusted his ruffled hair, Ratio swore he saw a glimmer of triumph in your baby's gaze.

Aventurine had danced with fate more times than he could count, but nothing had prepared him for the steely grip of his own child. He was reclining on the couch, your baby resting on his chest, his signature smile ever-present.

"See, sweetheart, life’s a gamble, and you’ve gotta know when to hold 'em and when to fold 'em—ow, ow, ow—!" His smooth words devolved into a choked laugh as tiny fingers latched onto the choker at his neck, yanking with surprising strength.

You snickered from the doorway. "Looks like someone’s not letting you fold."

He shot you a look of mock betrayal. "Darling, I believe our child has inherited your ruthlessness."

The baby gurgled in response, gripping tighter.

Aventurine gently pried at the tiny fingers, but his precious accessories weren’t so easily relinquished. "You know," he mused, "I’d almost admire this tenacity if it wasn’t threatening my windpipe."

It took both of you distracting the baby with a jingling bracelet before he was freed. As he adjusted his ruffled outfit, Aventurine let out a breathless chuckle. "A fine strategist already. I'll have to stay on my toes."

Boothill had faced bounty hunters, galactic enforcers, and IPC hit squads, but nothing—nothing—had prepared him for the iron grip of your infant. The cowboy sat with the baby nestled against his chest, cooing at the little one as they waved their tiny hands.

And then one small fist shot out and latched onto his scarf.

"Well, hell. Lil’ rascal’s (idk how to translate this into Boothill's language, sorry y'all) got a grip like a vice."

You chuckled from beside him, watching as he tried to gently tug his prized accessory free. "Guess they take after their daddy."

"Darn straight." Boothill grinned, though the slight strain in his voice betrayed the battle he was waging. "But if they don't let go soon, I might be goin' down as the first cowboy taken out by a baby."

The baby babbled, seemingly pleased with their victory.

Boothill sighed, unwrapping the scarf from around his neck entirely, much to the little one’s delight. He leaned back, shaking his head with amusement. "Guess I ain't winnin' this one. Ain't no shame in concedin’ to a worthy opponent."

You leaned in, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "Get used to it, cowboy. They’ll be running the show soon enough."

He chuckled, eyes soft as he watched the baby clutch his scarf. "Reckon I don’t mind one bit."

[omgfangirlland]

I need part two of the Talia twin reader!

Reader meeting the justice League or Bruce and reader attending a gala but some of the villains like lex tries to hit on her.. I need an overprotective Damien to reader 👺

-🔱

Continuation of this drabble!

On a completely different plane of existence- sunflower seeds are so addictive. I open one bag, and in five minutes, the seeds are gone, and I'm left with regrets and salty lips.

You knew Bruce was Batman, that man can't lie to your face about whether or not he drank water that day, let alone him being a vigilante- his little adoption problem was- more of a surprise. You didn't notice it as a pattern, not at first, not when a tense Bruce stepped into the library with a very quiet Richard Grayson.

The boy had a greeting on his tongue, but it caught in his throat as his eyes landed on you. Bruce seemed- cold. Stern like his own father, but much colder- he truly thought he'd be a lonely rich man.

"Hi-" Bruce cleared his throat when his voice cracked, and Dick thought he was dreaming. What is happening right now? This is not the same man he met a few hours ago.

"Well, hello there. And you are?" The boy answered softly, meek, could barely look you in your eyes. "It's nice meeting you, Dick. And will you be staying with us long?"

Dick looked up at the man, as if asking him to answer, but Bruce just kneeled down to his height, placing a hand on the kid's shoulder. "You can stay here for as long as you want. We'll gladly take care of you as long as you'll have us- and if you don't want to stay here-"

Bruce was nervous, rambling about the many choices Dick has, and you just sighed, intrerrupting your dear husband. "I'd love for you to stay." You got up and walked to the boy, holding out your hand. "Come on, I'll show you to the room closest to ours. If anything happens during the night, you can come straight to us, but for now, I think we all should sleep and talk tomorrow."

Dick took your hand, immediately sticking to your side, letting you lead him out of the library. Bruce squeaked as you dug your finger in his rib, and Dick snorted, hiding his smile from the man in your hand. This can't be that bad.

And it was better than expected. It took a while for young Richard to stop sleeping with you two- the boy always snuck into your room at night- but neither of you were complaining, happy to see the boy trust you so much.

And sure, there were a lot of hiccups, but he could always gossip about Bruce with auntie Talia. But there was always something nagging at the back of his head.

"Why haven't you and Bruce officially adopted me?" He had asked one day as he kept you company in your office, and you just smiled at him, running a hand through his soft hair. "Is that something you want? We didn't want to overstep, it felt wrong to just force that upon you when you just lost your parents."

"I'd love it if you two did." He whispered, eyes getting teary. Your eyes looked through a drawer you opened. "Have you ever seen Bruce cry?" Dick frowned, lip trembling as he asked what that had to do with the topic of the conversation.

"Because I think you'll enjoy it." His breath hitched as he read over the papers you handed to him. Adoption papers. Adoption papers filed on the very next day he came to the manor, your signature already on it- all it needed was Bruce's.

Both Bruce and Dick cried that evening, and Alfred took a lot of photos and videos.

Then Jason came, and while Dick was still salty about letting the Robin mantle go, your excitement over his new costume as Nightwing made it disappear.

While it took a while for little Richard to be clingy, Jason was so from the start. It hurt to see him go searching for his biological mom.

Now- Ra's and Brcue were still at each other's throats, but your father's loyalty will always be his girls' first. As soon as he found out what Joker was about to plan, he snitched. Jason still got his shit wrecked but he enjoyed seeing his ma beat the fun out of Joker while auntie Talia dealt with the bomb.

"I'm sorry, mama. I shouldn't have-" Jason finally spoke once they were in the Batmobile, but you just shushed him, prepping his bruised face with soft kisses. He had nothing to be sorry about... Bruce did bench him, but it didn't last long.

"I think I'll take the red hood monocle. What do you think, mom?"

"Wha- Red Hood? What about my opinion?"

"Dad, we both know the only opinions that matter in this house are Alfred's and mom's."

Bruce looked at Dick, but the young man just looked at his plate, stuffing his mouth with more and more food. "I think it's fitting. It'll annoy the clown and kind of keep up Bruce's thing- the-" You waved your hand trying to find the correct word. "- thing of naming yourself around something that scared you-"

Jason wanted to argue, but only huffed and continued to munch.

Tim- well... you just woke up with him one night on the balcony with a tired and pouting Bruce. "Hello, madame Wayne. I'm not here to be adopted- I just want to be Robin." He smiled up at you, walked past, and took one of the empty rooms near your room.

Bruce just moved closer to you, wrapped his arms around you, and buried his face in your neck, groaning softly as he nudged you towards the bed. He refused to tell you how he met Tim, but you found out from the boy.

Bruce slipped from the ledge, hitting his jaw on a twin building and almost breaking his back on the fire escape railing. Tim was worried Bruce had died as the man just sat for a while, rag-dolled, on the bent railing, reevaluating his life choices.

By the time Cassandra came, you were pregnant with Damian, and the girl REFUSED to leave your side, she was worse than Talia, but you couldn't be mad at the young girl, not when she'd snuggle against you and look up at you with those surprised eyes every time Damian kicked.

Duke was the lucky charm(in your words) that made your water break after nine long months of the kids, Alfred, Bruce, and your father and sister essentially haunting you just to make sure everything was ok. Duke was terrified when your water broke, the teen almost crying the whole way to the hospital.

Your kids, all of them, yes, even you, Barbara, Steph- were all overprotective to some degree, but Damian was over the top right from birth.

The doctors couldn't touch you without him fussing, and he sure as hell didn't appreciate being taken away from you, thank you very much. Sadly, not even his father was free from his judgment.

Every time Bruce would try to kiss you or snuggle close to you, Damian's eyes would stare the man right down, his hands, if free, reaching to pull the man away. Disturbing his time with ummi like this- the audacity.

You, teaching him to attack on command, didn't help either- the boy would eagerly look at you for any sight of the command when Bruce was holding him, waiting to nibble with his gums on his father's face.

As he grew, he got more used to his father, siblings, and other family members(he still pulled on Ra's goatee). But his mortal enemies, Oliver Queen and Lex Luthor, had no break from the toddler, becoming more of a menace to them when he started walking and talking.

And Bruce loved it.

"Momma's a queen. You're bald. Ew." He'd said once to Luthor(after kicking his shin), and Bruce didn't excuse them both to reprimand his boy, no- he laughed and rewarded him. "But don't tell mom, she'll make you apologize." And Damian was okay with keeping that secret.

Oliver Queen was terrified of the boy. He was just talking to you one night at a gala, enjoying life and all that, then he saw this little blob of black running for him, and as soon as he realized it was Damian Fucking Wayne, he ran away faster than the Flash. The last time he let the boy near him, Damian almost bit a finger off.

"Huh, guess he had to leave." You shrug as you pick up your youngest, setting him on your hip. Damian immediately wrapped his little arms around your neck and hid his smile in your neck.

[bllushbunniie]

reader is a gorgeous gorgeous girl obsessed with Charlotte Tilbury makeup- Spencer of course is always up for spoiling her

fem reader, 18+ for little dirty talk but mostly fluffy fluff, reader cries a little but boyf spence sorts it right out hehe

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

‘Oh my gosh Spencer, look’

Your shoulders were pulled back, hands clasped together, your eyes intently locked on the makeup cabinet in front of you.

This morning, he let you pull him all around the department stores, hands intertwined- but you were the one leading. He loved letting you lead. Especially when you were wearing that cute little pink midi skirt, littered with little flowers that swished when you took a step.

You were just out to buy your skincare products- ‘that’s all’ you told him. But he knew you couldn’t stop your eyes wandering to the more expensive, more luxurious looking products.

‘God, I just wish I had a full collection of Charlotte Tilbury products, Spence. She’s just.. she’s just, so.. me. Don’t you think?’

He smiled, squeezing your hand, of course he agreed. It was like the woman made these products just for you. You were glamorous, a bombshell, even. Each product was adorned with a signature rose gold shine, elegantly shaped containing expensive formulas.

They would be lucky to be owned by you, he thought.

He then spotted a lipstick that had its own little display.

‘Pillow talk, hm. This colour would look so pretty on you, lovely’, looking down at you, scanning your face. God, it would look good on you; the name ‘Pillow Talk’ sending his thoughts a little further than was appropriate for Sunday morning shopping.

He’d love to kiss it off of you. Letting it blur around both of your lips, then maybe you could do a little ‘pillow talk’ of your own-

‘Let me buy you this, please’, Spencer almost pleaded.

A little worried look took over your face.

‘I’m not so sure, Spence... As much as I’d love a gift off of you, it’s a little expensive- don’t you think?’, turning to face him, eyes stay staring at the glowing lipstick display.

‘We’re not doing this again, sweet girl. I work too much to not be able to spend the money on you.’

You don’t argue, because what could be better than receiving your first Charlotte Tilbury product as a sweet gift from your boyfriend?

‘Spence?’

‘Hm?’

‘You can put it on my lips for me when we get home, yeah?’

♡

‘I think we’re going to have to tone down our morning escapades, baby’

Spencer had a short work day today, thank god. He’d been working too much recently- so you enjoyed being his little haven to come home to.

Laughing, turning away from the boiling dinner dish, you walked over to greet him. He looked so yummy in his work clothes.

Your hand reaching out to grab his tie to drag him towards you, into your arms.

‘Why’s that, honey?’, tilting your head to the side like a confused little puppy.

‘Garcia spotted your little lipstick mark on my shirt’.

Oops.

‘It’s hardly my fault is it, Spence? You’re the one that pinned me down just as I was about to leave.’

He hummed, kissing your lips.

‘Oh it’s definitely you’re fault, c’mere’

♡

You’d been having a particularly difficult time at work.

Long days. Annoying clients.

‘I’m just so exhausted, Spence’, you manage to splutter out through tears. He had you wrapped in a little cocoon on your sofa, rocking you back and forth soothingly.

His lips never left the top of your head, little kisses and words of encouragement being uttered into you.

But Spencer knew everything would about to be alright. A little magical surprise that would turn your mood around.

He spotted it whilst shopping online yesterday.

He often saved items that he knew he’d like, he knew you too well.

It just so happened he ordered it at just the right time.

He imagined he could see your heart, it would probably look like this.

Glittered, golden and in the centre, a light pink jewel that looked charged with magic.

‘I think right now would be a good time to tell you that I got you a little gift today’, he admitted, squeezing oh so tighter around your body.

‘A gift?’, lifting your head to look at him.

He felt a little cruel, you looked so pretty when you cried. He wasn’t completely evil! Don’t get him wrong, it’s just.. your cheeks flush, your eyes glisten, and you cling to him like his life depending on it.

‘Yeah, a gift, my pretty girl. I think you’ll be pretty pleased. Open it for me.’

He reached his arm over the side of the sofa, unveiling a nondescript white paper bag.

Inside contained a little cardboard box. Stamped on top, a Charlotte Tilbury signature.

‘You didn’t’

‘Of course I did’ he whispers back.

Slowly taking out the box, unlocking its little paper lock, you were greeted with the cute little tissue paper- ripping it was going to be so fun.

A pink box greeted you, Beauty Soulmates Palette, what gorgeous name.

‘I had to pick between two shades. I know your skin colour by the hexadecimal, which then allowed me to calculate which blush would match the best- but we can always get the other shade if you want, of course you’re allowed to pick something else out if—-‘

‘Oh my God’

Revealing itself from inside the pink box, a golden glowing heart. It cushioned a pink jewel right in the centre of the compact. It was the most beautiful packaging you’d even seen.

Opening it up, the compact to reveal two perfect shades of pink. The formula was going to be the dreamiest thing you put on your skin, you’re sure of it.

‘Spence, oh my god!!!! C’mon, I want you to put it on for me!!!—- oh and then we can do your blush too!!!!’

[zosin-ya]

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 15 - ꜰʟᴇᴠᴀɴᴄᴇ

Summary: It was long overdue for you to properly meet his parents. Nerves were gnawing at you — the last time you’d seen them hadn’t ended well. Now was the time to make amends and finally get to know Law’s hometown. Tags: Law x Reader, Modern AU, dinner with his parents, father son convo, talks about your future, sfw

a.n: I really need to stop apologizing for showing up randomly and late — it’s become a habit. Still, I hope you enjoy the chapter; there’s some sweet fluff waiting for you at the end.

[ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ɪɴᴅᴇx]

"Crazy how the weather can change so much..." you muttered quietly, gazing out the window of the sea train as it sped toward the icy North Blue. The once-clear skies had darkened, and the air inside the cabin felt colder with every passing mile.

"Have you even seen snow before?"

You turned to Law, unimpressed, only to be met with his signature smug grin.

"Of course I have. Have you ever seen the sun?"

Law rolled his eyes, but a faint smirk tugged at his lips as he shifted in his seat, settling in more comfortably. The trip back to his hometown never really bothered him—if anything, he found it strangely soothing. The vast, open sea stretching out on either side of the train and the steady rhythm of the waves as they sliced through the water helped quiet the usual noise in his mind.

"...Are you nervous?"

You knew exactly what he meant. With a slow exhale, your gaze drifted back to the window. “The first meeting with your parents wasn’t exactly… ideal.”

“Would it help if I told you they’re probably just as nervous?”

“You sure?”

“Mom? Definitely. Dad? ...Less so. But yeah, he’s probably overthinking it too.”

His tone was easy, but there was something grounding in it—reassuring in a way only he could be. You weren’t doing this alone. Not this time. He was here, beside you.

You hummed softly, mostly to yourself, leaning back in your seat. Eyes half-lidded, you tried to let the steady rhythm of the train, the gentle sway and the muted hum of the tracks, lull you into something resembling calm. If nothing else, you could at least enjoy the ride.

After hours of swaying train cars, muffled conversations, and the steady clatter of wheels over rails, the sea train finally rolled into Flevance station with a sigh of brakes and a hiss of steam.

You stepped onto the platform, the weight of the long journey still clinging to your limbs. Law followed close behind, hauling both your bags like it was nothing. And then the cold hit—sharp and immediate, slicing through every layer you wore. Your breath caught. Goosebumps flared across your skin. No matter how many coats or scarves you packed, the North had a way of reaching right through them.

From the corner of your eye, you could feel Law watching you.

You turned just in time to catch his expression—one part amusement, one part smugness. Of course he was fine. Dressed like it was fall instead of the dead of winter: jeans, a hoodie, a beanie slouched over his hair. No coat. No gloves. Not even a flinch.

“Cold?” he asked, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips as he stepped ahead with an easy, practiced stride—like he’d never left this place.

You tugged your scarf up higher, refusing to give him the satisfaction. “What? No. I’m great, actually.”

He threw a glance over his shoulder that said he didn’t believe a word of it.

“Good,” he drawled, shifting the bags with practiced ease. “Because if you’re not cold, we could just walk. My parents’ place isn’t far. Thirty minutes on foot. Max. You’ll love it—especially dodging the black ice. Wouldn’t want you cracking that pretty head open.”

You laughed, breath puffing out in white wisps. The snark was ready on your tongue—but then you saw it, just as you exited the train station and stepped on the pavement together.

Flevance.

The city stretched out before you, blanketed in pristine snow. Under the pale winter sunlight, the buildings gleamed like they’d been dusted with powdered sugar. The air was sharp and clean, and everything seemed… quiet. Not empty, just still. Like the snow had softened the edges of the world.

You stood there for a moment, letting your gaze wander. You could almost picture it: a much smaller Law, trudging through these streets with hands shoved deep into his coat pockets, collar turned up against the wind.

Your eyes shifted away from the city slowly. Off to the side, a neat row of taxis waited along the curb, each one idling quietly, their drivers leaned back in their seats with practiced patience. The thought of sliding into a warm car, letting the heater blast against your frozen hands—it was dangerously tempting.

But Law wasn’t about to make this easy.

“Or,” he said, tipping his head toward the line of cabs as he continued his tease from before, “you wanna admit defeat and grab a taxi, Miss ‘I’m not cold at all’?” The grin on his face was downright evil.

You rolled your eyes, teeth chattering just a little.

“…Fine,” you muttered. “It’s cold. Taxi it is.”

He chuckled as if he’d won a battle, and helped you load your things into the trunk. Law took the front seat, chatting casually with the driver, while you sank gratefully into the back. The heater kicked in almost immediately, thawing your fingers as the city began to slip past the window.

The bustling heart of Flevance faded as the car wound its way into quieter, more refined neighborhoods. The streets grew wider. The homes, grander. Space became a luxury—and here, it was everywhere. Snow clung to wrought-iron gates and lined stone walkways like frosting on a cake.

You pressed your cheek lightly against the cold glass, watching it all pass by.

It was a different world for you.

And for the first time since arriving, you felt like you were stepping into Law’s story—not just hearing about it, but walking the same streets, breathing the same air.

Even if it was way too cold.

The car eased to a stop in front of an estate that looked like it belonged in a magazine spread, letting you two exist and grab your luggage. The house stretched wide and elegant across the snowy landscape, its grand façade framed by tall iron gates and carefully sculpted hedges now dusted with snow. As the driver pulled away, the cold crept back in, and you stood there for a moment beside Law, your breath fogging in the icy air.

You tilted your head, arms folded tight against the chill. “You know,” you said, eyeing the long driveway leading up to the house, “you can always tell how rich someone is by how far the front door is from the gate.”

Law arched a brow, already pressing the doorbell. “Never understood the appeal of a long-ass driveway anyway.”

You gave him a sidelong look, grinning. “To show off how rich you are, obviously.”

He glanced at you, deadpan. “You can sleep outside in the snow if you keep that shit going.”

The gate buzzed and clicked open, and you let out a quiet chuckle as you both stepped through.

The walk to the front door was slow and cautious, the stone path slick with ice in places. You shuffled forward, trying to maintain dignity while not landing flat on your cheeks. Law, naturally, walked like the ice didn’t even exist.

At the door, warm light spilled out as it opened to reveal two smiling figures: Lea and Matheo, bundled in sweaters and radiating that familiar warmth of parents who’d been waiting by the window. As soon as you stepped inside, a wave of heat wrapped around you, so comforting it was almost overwhelming.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Lea said, pulling Law into a hug so tight he had to shift your bags to one arm. “It’s so lovely to see you again. You really should visit more often.”

Law looked vaguely cornered, but you caught the faintest tug of a smile on his lips.

Matheo turned to you with a kind expression. “It’s nice to see you too, Y/N.” His voice was soft, like he was trying to bridge something left unspoken since the ceremony. You appreciated it more than you let on.

“Thank you for having me,” you said, still thawing out. “I’m definitely not used to this kind of cold.”

“Oh right, winters aren’t like this in the East, are they? I nearly forgot,” Lea said, finally letting go of her son and turning her full attention to you. “Come on, let’s get you warmed up.”

She ushered you through the entryway, where your boots and jacket were quickly replaced with cozy slippers. As you followed her into the house, your eyes roamed curiously, taking in the space. This was Law’s childhood home. You’d imagined it before, but seeing it was something else entirely.

It was elegant, no doubt—high ceilings, tasteful décor, furniture that looked like it belonged in an art gallery. But there were touches of real life scattered everywhere: slightly crooked photo frames, kids’ drawings still taped to the walls, worn out books messily scattered on every possible surface.

It wasn't just a house, but a home...

The living room gave way to a sprawling kitchen, where the scent of freshly brewed coffee lingered like a warm blanket. You took a deep breath, already starting to feel your fingers again. Through the wide glass door leading into the garden, you spotted something that made you blink: a barbecue grill, smoke rising into the frozen air.

You raised an eyebrow. “Wait… are we actually grilling?”

Law smirked. “Forgot to mention that?”

Lea handed you a mug, her laughter warm. “This is the North—we adapt.”

You cradled the coffee gratefully, inhaling the steam. “We’ll have to do it in the East one day. I’ll show you how to grill without frostbite.”

“We'd love that,” Lea chuckled and looked at her husband, who nodded in agreement with a smile. He was already shrugging into his jacket, which had been draped over a kitchen chair. He moved with an easy calm, but there was something deliberate in the way he glanced at his son.

“Law, give me a hand out there?”

“Sure dad.”

He gave you a quick look, like he was checking in before heading off. “Wanna come outside or stay warm with Mom?”

You laughed, hugging your coffee to your chest. “I’ve made enough bad life choices. I’ll stay inside, thanks.”

Law disappeared to grab his shoes, and you watched as the two of them stepped out into the snow. Just before the glass door slid shut behind them, Law reached for a bottle on the counter—something clear that looked oodly familiar—and two small glasses.

Vodka. Not just for the taste. More like armor against the cold.

You watched them through the window for a moment, two silhouettes in the white haze, father and son side by side in the swirling snow.

Inside, you stayed with Lea, setting the table and falling into a surprisingly easy rhythm. The conversation flowed effortlessly, the kind that starts light but somehow ends up deeper than you expect—full of little laughs and unexpected warmth. You hadn’t anticipated it, not after everything, but something about her made it easy to let your guard down.

Outside, Law stood beside his father, boots crunching softly on the snow-packed stone as they hovered near the grill. Smoke curled upward into the winter sky while the fire popped and hissed beneath the lid.

“It’s good to have you back,” Matheo said, placing skewers across the grill before lowering the lid. “How’s the hospital now that you’ve got that first diploma under your belt?”

Law wiped a bit of coal dust from his fingers and slipped his hands into his pockets. He hesitated—part of him tempted to offer the usual half-answer. But after everything, especially after how things had nearly fallen apart with you, he’d made a quiet promise to stop pretending everything was fine.

He glanced at the smoke curling in the air, then at his father.

“Honestly? It’s been shit.”

Matheo didn’t react with surprise at first—just gave a slow nod as he reached for the bottle sitting nearby. And Law was quite grateful for it. He uncapped it and poured two shots of clear liquor. They clinked them together without a word and drank, the silence between them as heavy and meaningful as the conversation.

“Professors giving you hell?”

Law gave a slight shrug. “Some of them, yeah. But… that’s not the main thing.” His breath came out in a visible cloud as he stared into the steam rising from the grill. “Things didn’t go well with Y/N after the ceremony.”

Matheo glanced over, curiosity—and something else, too. Hope, maybe, that his son might finally open up. “We talked about it, your mom and I,” he said. “Rosinante told us some of what happened. We’re sorry, Law. We didn’t realize how much damage we’d done.”

Law gave a small nod. “Thanks, Dad. But… I messed up too.” He rubbed the back of his neck, his gaze fixed on the liquid in his glass. “Y/N was disappointed. Rightfully so. I let her walk into that whole situation blind. You guys didn’t even know I was bringing someone, let alone someone with history tied to Yuki.”

That name settled between them like a stone dropped into still water.

Matheo didn’t speak at first, just took another sip. His gaze was steady, his voice low. “There’s more to that, isn’t there?”

Law nodded again, slower this time. “I told Y/N everything. About Lamy. About Yuki. She deserves the truth.” He sighed again, deeper this time. Maybe this wasn’t the best moment to drop everything on his father, but it had been a long time coming. This secret had sat too long between them, and he knew it would change how Matheo saw Yuki. But it had to.

“She does,” Matheo said softly. He turned toward Law fully now, the quiet weight of fatherhood sitting in his posture. “Especially if she matters to you.”

“More than anything...,” Law replied without hesitation. “And I almost lost her dad... Because I thought I had to handle everything on my own.”

The words hung in the air for a beat. Then he sighed, downed the rest of his glass in one go, and poured another. His hand shook just slightly as he set the bottle down.

“I told her the full story,” he continued. “And I need you to hear it too.”

Matheo said nothing, just stood quietly and listened as Law told him everything—how it started with Yuki, the history that bound them, the manipulation, the things she did to you… and what she nearly cost him.

By the time Law finished, Matheo’s brows had drawn together, his jaw tight. He didn’t interrupt, didn’t question. He simply reached for his glass, emptied it, and poured a fresh one for them both.

“That…” he began, shaking his head slowly, “sounds like a damn fever dream.”

Law laughed once—dry and flat. “Feels like one too.”

“And she did all that?” Matheo asked, brows furrowing deeper. “To you? To Y/N? Out of what—spite? Jealousy?”

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Law muttered, rubbing his hands together more out of habit than cold. “Control, maybe. She was good at it. Scarily good.”

Matheo cursed under his breath, dragging a hand down his face. His expression hovered between fury and disbelief, but beneath it all was a flash of something deeper—helplessness. He wished he’d known sooner. Wished he could’ve seen the signs, stepped in, shielded his son before it ever got this far. Law was his only child. And the thought that he’d suffered in silence, carrying all of this alone… it cut deeper than words could reach.

But beneath it all was something else—relief, maybe, or a quiet kind of pride. Law had finally told him the truth. No walls, no half-truths, no pretending. Just honesty. And Matheo clung to that. He told himself to focus on what mattered now, not drown in guilt over what he couldn’t change.

He hadn’t been there for Law then. But he could be here now. Present. Listening. Showing up in the ways that counted.

“Thanks for telling me,” Matheo said at last, his voice low but steady. A small, genuine smile tugged at his lips as he reached out, resting a firm hand on Law’s shoulder and giving it a gentle, reassuring squeeze. “If you ever need to talk more—about any of it—you can call me. Anytime, alright? Even if I’m working, I’ll make time. Always.”

Law offered a crooked grin. “Thanks, Dad. I appreciate it… and—sorry for dropping a bomb on you in the middle of a barbecue.”

Matheo chuckled, the sound weary but genuine. “Not the first time you’ve shaken up dinner.”

They might’ve said more, but the kitchen door creaked open, and Lea poked her head out with a grin, your figure right behind her with a warm smile.

“Well? Are we eating tonight or waiting for the next solstice?” she called, her breath puffing into the cold.

“We’re coming!” Matheo replied, already moving to lift the lid and start plating the food. The meat was perfectly grilled, the smell rich and savory as they transferred everything into a large pot, sealing it up tight against the cold.

Law glanced at you through the glass door. You were smiling, eyes bright—and he felt something shift. A quiet peace.

Together, they headed back inside, the rush of warmth greeting them immediately. The dining table was already beautifully set, covered with an array of colorful, mouthwatering side dishes. It looked like a feast—comforting, hearty, and made with care.

Law glanced at you as he set the pot down, something lighter in his eyes now. Maybe things weren’t fixed yet—but this, all of it, felt like a start.

Dinner passed with a surprising lightness. Whatever conversation had taken place between Law and Matheo outside seemed to have lifted much of the tension that had hovered over the afternoon. The atmosphere now felt warmer—easier. You found yourself growing more comfortable, especially as you and Lea fell into friendly conversation, getting to know each other better over bites of perfectly grilled food and rich side dishes.

“Heard Law told you a bit about our little sunshine, Lamy?” Matheo said, his tone light as he sliced into a piece of tender, marinated meat, a fond smile tugging at his lips.

You looked up from your plate, a little caught off guard. The name had weight, even in its gentlest form. You hadn’t expected them to bring up their daughter—especially not in the middle of dinner. But both of Law’s parents wore expressions filled with warmth, not sorrow.

“A bit, yes…” you said softly, unsure however. “Though... not in much detail.”

Lea gave a quiet, wistful laugh. “You two would’ve gotten along. We hadn’t planned on having two kids, but she was the best surprise life ever gave us.”

Law let out a mock-offended scoff, raising an eyebrow. “And what does that make the firstborn?”

"You were our trial run sweetheart,” Lea teased, grinning.

Law shook his head, but his grin said he didn’t mind the teasing. You couldn’t help but laugh with them, a soft warmth blooming in your chest. This wasn’t just a family meal—it felt like being let into something sacred. A quiet kind of intimacy .

“If you two want to dig through some old memories later, the photo albums are all in the office,” Lea offered with a smile as she stood to refill the water and wine.

“Maybe after dinner,” Law murmured, glancing down at his plate. “And a hot shower.”

He stretched slightly, then yawned mid-motion—clearly not as awake as he wanted to be.

“Tired as always, huh?” Matheo asked, casual and knowing.

“Yeah. Long week. Same as always.”

“When is it not a long week?” Matheo chuckled, adjusting his glasses. “You’ve got to slow down before your body makes the choice for you.”

“He’s picked up kendo again,” you chimed in, looking over at Law. “That’s been eating up what little free time he had.”

At that, both parents paused, brows rising in near-unison.

Law leaned back, his plate cleared, and took the fresh glass of wine his mom handed him with a quiet nod of thanks.

“Seriously?” Matheo asked in disbeliefe.

Law took a sip, slow and thoughtful, then glanced your way—his silent cue for you to tell the story. It had started with you, after all.

“We went a tournament—friend of mine was competing. It stirred up some old instincts, I guess. Same friend’s been helping him train again,” you explained, setting your fork down. “Little by little. It’s been good for him.”

Law chuckled softly, rubbing at his eyes. “He’s ruthless. Doesn’t care if I’m exhausted. Says I need to ‘remember how to move like I mean it.’”

Lea’s eyes softened as a smile crept across her face. “Wow… Honestly, sweetheart, I never thought you’d pick up Kikoku again. Not after everything.”

Law didn’t reply right away, just looked down into his wine. Then, with a quiet shrug, he murmured, “Guess I missed it more than I realized.”

The table fell into a peaceful silence for a moment—not heavy, but reflective. Like everyone was letting that bit of truth settle before moving on.

Lea smiled as if recalling something distant but dear. It was clear the news meant a lot to her—she knew how much that practice used to help him unwind, especially after long days at school. After Lamy’s death, he’d slowly let go of so many things he once loved. To see him pick something back up again—it felt like a step forward.

It felt like your influence had something to do with it.

His parents could sense it—that subtle shift. Like the version of Law they remembered was slowly resurfacing. The one who used to light up over things he cared about, who smiled more easily, who carried a spark of life that had been missing for a long time.

Eventually, plates were scraped clean, glasses half-full of the last sips of wine, and the cozy lull of satisfaction settled over the table. Lea began gathering dishes, brushing off your offer to help with a gentle smile.

"You’re our guest tonight. Go on, relax," she said, stacking plates with practiced ease.

Matheo stretched in his chair and stood up with a low groan. “I’ll help her. You two head upstairs and get settled. It’s been a long day.”

Law gave a quiet nod of thanks and stood, waiting for you to follow. After a final round of smiles and goodnights, you walked with him through the hallway and up the stairs, his hand casually carrying your bags.

He led you into his old bedroom—its walls a deep navy, lined with band posters, certificates, and faded childhood photos. Bits of the past lingered here and there: crayon drawings, dusty toys, a few forgotten books. It felt like the room had been frozen in time since he left for university.

“That’s the bathroom,” he said, pointing to the door on your right. “And before you say anything—yes, I had my own. Spare me the commentary.” He shot you a playful grin as he set your bags down.

You smirked and rolled your eyes. “Sure, privileged northern boy. Not a word.”

You sat on the edge of the bed, watching him settle in beside you.

“…Feeling any better about my parents? “

“Sort of,” you admitted, exhaling as you let yourself fall back onto the mattress, eyes on the ceiling. “Had a nice chat with your mum. But it was all surface-level stuff—uni, weather, food…”

Law didn’t respond right away. He just watched you for a moment, then gave a small, thoughtful nod.

“What about you?” you asked, tilting your head to look at him. “Seemed like you had a good talk with your pa.”

Law let out a short chuckle, dropping his gaze as his fingers absently traced the ink on his knuckles. “Sort of… He asked how things went after the ceremony.”

You sat up a little straighter, curiosity sparking. “And?”

“I was honest. Told him it was a mess.” He exhaled heavily, still not meeting your eyes. “Told him about the fight, the whole Yuki situation… everything.”

“Wait—seriously? You told him all of it?”

He nodded. “Everything.”

You went quiet, letting that sink in. You always knew Law was blunt, that wasn’t the surprise. It was the fact that he’d opened to his father so quickly—that he didn’t hold anything back—that caught you off guard.

“And what did your old man say?” you asked, sitting up straighter and inching a little closer.

“He apologized for his part,” Law said, glancing at you briefly before his gaze drifted away again. “And he was shocked—about Yuki.”

“Wait... you actually told him everything she did?”

“Not every detail,” he said with a shrug. “Just the broad strokes.”

“Damn,” you murmured, letting yourself sink slowly back into the mattress. “And your mom?”

“Dad said he’d talk to her. He probably already is, knowing him.” Law let out a quiet sigh as he stood and crouched by his bag, digging through it for fresh clothes. Judging by his movements, he was gearing up for a shower—and just like that, the conversation was over for him.

But not for you. You couldn’t help it—you wanted more. Every little piece. Even if the questions spinning in your head didn’t have solid answers yet, curiosity had a tight grip on you. You had to talk about it.

“What do you think your mom’s reaction will be?” you asked, trying to sound casual.

Law folded his clothes with his usual precision, placed them on the bed and walked past the it toward the bathroom. “No idea. Probably shocked.” His voice was so nonchalant it was hard to tell if he really didn’t care—or was just good at pretending. He disappeared behind the bathroom door but didn’t bother closing it.

As he expected, you shifted, following him with a mind full of tangled questions.

“You think she’ll react differently than your dad?”

Law peeled off his clothes and stepped into the shower, turning the water on. Normally, you’d be watching him, soaking in every inch of him—but right now, your brain was too loud to focus on anything else.

“Definitely,” he said with a soft sigh, stepping under the stream. He visibly relaxed beneath the warm water—warm by his standards, way too cold by yours. “She’s more emotional.”

“Oh, because she’s a woman?” you teased, raising an eyebrow.

Through the glass, Law shot you an incredulous look, his wet black hair plastered to his face as he rolled his eyes.

“No, dumbass. Cause after Lamy passed, she needed someone to mother. And Yuki fit that role,” he replied, voice calm and matter-of-fact.

The words hit you harder than you expected. You hadn’t thought of it that way. To you, Yuki had always been this villain—but this was something else.

“Do you think she’ll believe what you told your dad?” you asked, softer now.

“She will,” Law said without hesitation, closing his eyes as he lathered shampoo into his hair. “They both know I don’t make things up. And I don’t open up easily. They’ll take it seriously. Don’t stress about it.”

You went quiet for a moment, then nodded to yourself, knowing full well he couldn’t see it. “...A few more allies wouldn’t hurt.”

“Especially my parents.” He paused. “Not that I’m suggesting anything…”

You looked up, eyes narrowing with curiosity.

“But they’ve got connections. Ones Yuki depends on. If things blow up again… they could cut her off.” Law opened his eyes and pushed his wet hair back, letting the water stream down his back. He wiped the fog off the shower glass and looked at you, his expression serious. "Honestly? She deserves everything coming to her after all the crap she pulled. If my son ever came to me with a story like that, I’d end her career without a second thought."

Something about the way he said it made your heart skip a beat. It wasn’t just the fierce protectiveness—it was the fact that he mentioned his son. The idea that he even thought about having kids. That was new. Maybe you were reading too much into it, but you'd never heard him say anything like that before.

You stared at him, caught off guard, your mind scrambling to catch up.

"What?" Law asked, chuckling as he turned away from the glass and rinsed the last of the shampoo from his hair. "Too harsh? Bad parenting?"

You blinked, finally managing to answer. “Nah. Honestly, I’d probably beat her up personally.”

Law laughed, shaking his head with a grin. You watched him for a moment before adding, more curious now, “I’ve just... never heard you talk about kids before.”

“I haven’t?” he asked, surprised. The water shut off with a final hiss.

“Nope.” You handed him a towel, which he took and ran over his skin in brisk motions before tying it around his waist—low enough to make your thoughts blur for a moment.

You leaned against the sink while Law grabbed a smaller towel and started drying his hair.

“Isn’t that the kind of topic you’re supposed to cover at the beginning of a relationship?” he asked, voice muffled slightly by the towel.

“Usually,” you said with a soft chuckle, watching him. “Could be a deal breaker if one person wants kids and the other doesn’t. But we kind of jumped into this whole thing without much planning.”

Law let out a low hum, pausing to glance at you. “Yeah... as the whole ceremony disaster proved, I’m not exactly great at handling emotions or recognizing when something’s serious.”

He wasn’t wrong. He had loved you long before he’d been ready to admit it—even to himself. He’d introduced you to his friends, to Rosinante, someone more important than his parents almost. You were already woven into his life, even if he hadn’t acknowledged what that really meant back then. So talking about the future hadn’t exactly been on the table—unless it involved career goals.

You tilted your head, playful but a little hesitant. “Wanna have the deal-breaker talk now?”

“Why not?”

Surprisingly, Law felt just as unsure about the conversation as you did—only he was better at hiding it behind that familiar stoic mask. He tossed the towel over his shoulder and looked straight at you.

“So,” he said, voice even, “you wanna have kids?”

“Yeah. You?”

“Yup. Two at least. Only children tend to be brats.”

You raised an eyebrow with a grin. “That a scientific observation, Dr. Law?”

“Very.”

Without thinking much of it, you reached out and shook hands like you'd just signed a contract.

“Alright,” you said. “Deal.”

“Deal."

Just like that—like it was nothing—you’d agreed to build a future together. And somehow, that made it feel even more real.

"Fine," Law exhaled—then, without giving you a second to react, he suddenly hoisted you over his shoulder. “Hey—!” you gasped, flailing a little as you instinctively reached for the towel around his hips, desperately trying not to yank it off. He strolled casually back toward the bedroom, completely unfazed.

“Let’s make some kids, then.”

“What?!” you laughed in disbelief, smacking his shoulder. “You’re insane!”

He just chuckled and dropped you onto the bed like it was nothing. You bounced slightly, still grinning in shock as he reached for the clothes he had folded neatly earlier.

“Relax. I’m kidding,” he said, slipping into his underwear and pulling on a pair of sweatpants. “No sex in my old bedroom. That’s just... weird.”

“Why? Because teenage Law thought kissing girls was gross?”

He gave you a look, amused. “Nah. But having all those figurines watching? That’s nightmare fuel. Always hated it.” He pointed to the shelves across the room—lined with neatly arranged figures, still standing guard like tiny plastic sentinels.

“Used to turn them around if I had a girl over.”

You burst out laughing. “That is... incredibly nerdy.”

“And also incredibly thoughtful,” he said with mock pride.

You rolled your eyes playfully and scooted to the edge of the bed to grab your sleeping clothes. “Nerdy and cute. Somehow, that combo works on you.”

A small smile tugged at Law’s lips as he settled beneath the sheets, watching you quietly change. He’d never really pictured himself with a family of his own—not in the traditional sense. To him, family had always been his parents, Rosinante, and the friends he’d grown to trust. That was enough. Or at least, it had been.

But now, with you in his life… the thought didn’t feel so far-fetched. It felt real. Possible. Maybe after university was behind you both, after a few years of carving out your careers—he could actually see it.

A future that wasn’t just ambition and survival, but warmth.

A home.

He stayed quiet as you switched off the light and slid under the covers, curling instinctively into his side like always. Your presence was grounding, familiar. Right.

"...Love you.“

"Love you too, Law.“

>> next chapter in progress

taglist: @mars-mizuko , @tadomikiku , @hopelesslover06 , @loraleiii@mwhahahalasagna , @ttalgi , @metonimia-de-bellota , @parkquimin , @ephemeress , @not-a-glad-gladiator , @littleleelee , @chillerkiller , @lechefian , @kitsunechan707 , @forest-haven , @kaz-0e , @baby5555 , @fashionably-a-hippie , @stuckinmymind22 , @whore-of-many-hot-men , @little-rivers , @spookydragonsong , @riftmage27 , @oneslowsnail , @thekatisspooky , @min-core , @ruthlesscore

(Let me know in the comments and I’ll add you)

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Erik getting a prince albert piercing and not telling his girl until after he did it

Request: The Campbells have a barbecue for Bobby’s birthday and Erik invites you

Warnings: mention of piercing,

Fell in love with this man the second I saw him on screen. I'm so happy people want to read about him. This is exactly my type

—

Barbecues were a recurrent event at the Campbells. It was a great way of spending time together, and an opportunity for Howard to show off his skills behind the grill. He wouldn’t call himself a grill master, but he definitely was a pro burger-flipper.

You’ve gone to a few barbecues yourself since dating Erik. His family was endearingly chaotic — in the best ways. While the food was cooking, Julia and Erik would go on the trampoline and have a highest jump battle, like they did as children. Each time one of them would take a bad fall, Brenda would threaten to sell the trampoline, but never actually do it. 

Today’s barbecue was special though; it was Bobby’s birthday. Brenda hung a ‘happy birthday’ sign over the sliding door which matched the small bouquet of lavender balloons in the corner. 

You abandoned Julia and went inside to help Erik with the plates and cutlery. He’s been inside for over ten minutes, why was he taking so long? 

‘’Erik?’’ you called out, not seeing him in the kitchen. 

No answers. 

With a frown on your face, you checked the living room before making your way upstairs. The hallway at the top was lined with photos of the Campbells throughout the years, from baby photos to family vacations. You chuckled as you passed the one of  seven years old Erik with a toothless grin. He had fallen off his bike and broke his front teeth the weekend before picture day at school. 

Speaking of Erik, you heard a series of curses coming from his bedroom. You followed the sound and held a chuckle when you found him sitting on his bed, wrapping Bobby’s present with difficulty. 

‘’Need a hand?’’ 

Erik looked up as you entered his room and let out a sigh of frustration. ‘’This is sorcery.’’ He glared at the scotch tape and paper, as if it was their fault. ‘’Can I just put a bow on top and give it to him like that?’’ 

You rolled your eyes, dropping onto the bed beside him. ‘’Or you could admit defeat and let me take over.’’

He pushed the mess of paper toward you. It was ‘your problem’ now. ‘’Be my guest.’’ 

As you started smoothing out the paper, Erik shifted up the bed and flopped back against the pillows, and let a quiet, involuntary groan slip out.

It sounded painful, so you glanced over. “You good, babe?” 

Erik cleared his throat. “Fine.’’ 

‘’Did you hurt yourself fighting with Bobby over the controller again?’’ you asked, used to the Campbell siblings shenanigans. They played hardcore. 

‘’No.’’ The brunet hesitated, then continued. He intended to keep it a secret from you, but he couldn't see himself making up shit for the next four to six weeks. '’I just…I got my dick pierced two days ago. It’s sensitive.’’ 

You were used to Erik coming up with spontaneous body modifications projects and never actually getting them done. A month ago, he really wanted a tattoo of a certain metal band. He even made a sketch on his ipad, but forgot about it and moved to another idea…which he also didn’t get done. 

So when he told you that he got his dick pierced, you didn’t believe him. For one, it sounded extremely painful. And second, he always talked about it as a joke. 

You scoffed, folding a corner of the paper smoothly before taping it down. “You’re joking.”

“I’m not,” he said, deadpan.

You looked up and squinted at him. “Erik, you can’t be serious.” 

That signature shit-eating grin spread across his face. The kind he wore whenever he was about to confess to something absolutely reckless. The one that always meant trouble. 

Suddenly, you were having doubts. 

“Dead serious.'’

He was serious. 

You shook your head, your lower stomach filling up with butterflies. “You’re insane.”

You meant it as a compliment. His recklessness was part of him, and you wouldn’t change it. Even if it made you want to tear his head off sometimes. 

‘’Want me to pull my pants down and show you?” He brought a hand down to his belt buckle, about to undo it, but you stopped him.

‘’Later.’’

—

All and more taglist:  @kenqki  @hawkegfs  @gillybear17   @black-rose-29 @fudge13 @cece05 @laylasbunbunny @gemofthenight @beautyb1ade   @mellabella101 @vxnity713  @bisexualgirlsblog @queenofslytherin889 @thatbxtchesblog @softb-tterfly @ethanlandrycanbreakmyheart  @xyzstar  @graceberman3   @mikeyspinkcup @jackierose902109 @daisydark @laurasdrey @mischieftom @fanatic4niall @peterholland04 @idkwhattonamethisblogs  @lexasaurs634  @notasadgirlipromise @zoeynicolas @thejuleshypothesis @multi-fandom-bi-bitch @lexasaurs634  @notasadgirlipromise @thejuleshypothesis  @katherinejess  @rafesgirlstuff   @lafleshlumpeater @iamluminosity  Anouk nani-2305 @books0fever @papichulo120627 @qardasngan @ghostlyvoidydragon @M0rgans1nterlud3 @dahlia-blossom21 @Spacexdrago @nhlfs

[ceyanabbiolo]

PHOTOGRAPH // M.S [09]

Summary: Daphne Denoire, a 21-year-old, returns to Boston after 3 years—but working for her brother’s best friend, Matthew Sturniolo, wasn’t part of the plan. He’s a 26-year-old multimillionaire. She’s the girl he was never supposed to feel this way about. With secrets between them and boundaries set, how far will they go for a love they never saw coming?

Warnings: slightly suggestive, kissing, angst

wc: 5834

Chapter 9: I've Been Thinking About You

I woke up earlier than usual, the sun barely pushing through the curtains. Today wasn’t just any Friday—Noah was coming home.

My big brother had been gone for what felt like forever, buried under textbooks and mock trials at law school, and even though we talked on the phone, it wasn’t the same as having him here. I missed the way he filled our apartment with his loud music and sarcastic comments. I missed having him around.

So, I cleaned and cleaned.

I started with the living room, vacuuming every corner even though it was already spotless. Then I moved to the kitchen—wiping the counters, reorganizing the spice rack, refolding the dish towels. Anything to keep my hands busy.

I kept glancing at the clock. He said he’d be driving back this morning, should be here by late afternoon. I had hours to kill.

After showering and pulling my hair up into a messy bun, I changed into comfy sweats and a tank top. I got to work in the kitchen next. Cooking always calmed me. I made his favorite—creamy chicken alfredo, with garlic bread and a salad I knew he probably wouldn’t touch, but I still made it because… well, I’m me.

I set the table, even though I knew he’d probably just grab a plate and eat on the couch. But I didn’t care.

The apartment smelled like garlic and basil, and everything felt warm and homey.

I wiped my hands on a dish towel and looked around the apartment with a small smile. It was quiet. Peaceful. But I knew the second that door opened, the volume in here would crank up.

I was lighting the last candle on the table when I heard the familiar click of the front door unlocking.

The door creaked open, and there he was, my stupid older brother, hair a bit messier than usual, hoodie slightly wrinkled from the drive, and his duffel bag slung over one shoulder. His tired eyes scanned the room before landing on me.

“Hey,” he said, smiling widely.

I grinned back. “Hi.”

He dropped the bag near the door and walked straight toward me, wrapping me in one of his signature bear hugs. I practically disappeared in his arms.

“You smell like garlic,” he mumbled into my hair.

I laughed. “That’s because I made your favorite.”

He pulled back, raising an eyebrow. “Chicken Alfredo?”

“With garlic bread. And a salad you’ll ignore.”

He grinned. “Thanks, Daph.”

I pulled away,  “All good.”

He looked around the apartment like he was taking in every detail. “You cleaned.”

“Of course I did. You're lucky I didn’t vacuum the ceiling.”

He gave a small chuckle and then sniffed the air again dramatically. “Smells like heaven. Are we eating now, or do I have to shower first and pretend I’m not starving?”

I rolled my eyes. “Eat now. Shower after.”

Noah clapped his hands once and made his way to the kitchen. “Man, it's good to be home.”

We sat across from each other, the clinking of forks and the soft hum of the city outside the window filling the space.

Noah took another bite, then glanced up at me between chews. “So,” he started, swallowing, “how’ve you been?”

I shrugged, poking at the pasta on my plate. “Good. Busy. I’ve been working, so that kept me going.”

Noah twirled his fork through the last bit of pasta, then looked up at me again. “So… how was L.A.?”

I nodded slowly, resting my elbow on the table. “It was good. Different.”

“Different how?” he asked, eyeing me curiously.

I shrugged. “The weather, the vibe. Every Hollywood”

He chuckled. “Sounds about right.”

There was a small pause. I could feel it before he even said it.

“Speaking of L.A…” he continued, casually but not really, “how’s Matt?”

My hand stilled slightly on my glass. I tried to keep my expression neutral. “He’s… good. Busy, you know. Same as always.”

Noah nodded slowly, watching me too closely. “You two talk often?”

I kept my voice light. “Sometimes. I mean, he’s technically my boss, so we talk about shoots and edits.”

Noah’s smirk faded a little, his tone shifting into something more serious as he set his fork down. “Is he a good boss?”

I blinked. “Matt?”

He nodded, eyes steady.

“Yeah,” I said quickly, maybe too quickly. “He’s…patient. Gives me space to do my work, trusts my edits.” I forced a small smile, fiddling with my napkin. “No complaints.”

He watched me for a second, like he was trying to read between the lines.

I cleared my throat. “Have you talked to him recently?”

Noah leaned back in his chair, arms crossing loosely. “Just texts here and there.”

I nodded slowly.

“I’m seeing him tonight, though,” he added casually, but I felt the words hit my chest.

“Oh, cool.” I busied myself with gathering the plates, hoping the clatter would cover how awkward I suddenly felt.

Noah didn’t say anything for a moment, and I could feel his eyes on me again. I didn’t meet them.

Matt’s name shouldn’t make me tense. He’s Noah’s best friend. Normally, they’re seeing each other.

So why did it feel like my skin was two sizes too tight?

“You okay?” Noah asked suddenly.

I forced a small, bright laugh. “Yeah. Just tired, that’s all.”

He nodded slowly, still watching. I grabbed the dishes and carried them into the kitchen, needing a second to breathe.

Because Noah didn’t know.

Therefore, I wasn’t about to tell him that his best friend had kissed me. Twice. And that I’d let him. Twice.

And maybe…I wanted to do it again. 

I ran the water in the sink, letting the sound fill the silence while I stacked the plates inside. Noah got up too, bringing over the glasses. He leaned against the counter beside me, arms crossed, eyes narrowed just slightly.

“You know,” he started casually, “Matt's not really the… serious type.”

I dried my hands slowly. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, he jokes around. He flirts with anything that breathes. I know he’s my best friend, but he’s always been like that,” he said with a shrug. “Even when we were younger, it was never just one girl.”

I kept my gaze on the sink, feeling my throat tighten.

“Why would that matter to me, Noah? I’m his photographer,” I said, eyeing him, trying to figure out what he was getting at. 

“I’m just saying—if he ever makes you feel…I don't know, unprofessional? You’d tell me, right?”

I glanced at him, forcing a soft smile. “Yeah, of course.”

He studied me a beat longer, then nodded. “Good.”

I wiped the same spot on the counter three times, needing something to do with my hands. My voice came out quieter than I intended. “He’s been… nice. Like really nice.”

Noah tilted his head. “Yeah?”

I nodded. “Like… not how you’d expect, I guess.”

Something shifted in his expression—an edge of curiosity—but he didn’t push it.

“Maybe he’s maturing or something,” Noah muttered, reaching for a clean spoon from the drawer. “About time.”

I gave a half-laugh. “Maybe.”

He looked at me again, more thoughtful this time. “You two getting along then? I mean… It’s not weird, working together?”

I shook my head quickly. “No. It’s… easy.”

He raised a brow at that. “Easy?”

I caught myself. “I mean—like, he doesn’t make things complicated. It’s just work. We keep things professional.”

That wasn’t a lie. I just…left a lot out.

Noah nodded, thankfully dropping the subject, and made his way back to the couch with a stretch and a quiet yawn.

I turned off the tap, wiped my slightly damp hands on the edge of my sweatshirt, and headed to my room. My heart was still pounding—more from the conversation than anything else. I shut the door gently behind me, crossed the small space to my desk, and opened my laptop.

I hadn’t dared to look at it all day.

The email from accounting was still there, unopened. My fingers hesitated over the trackpad for a second before I finally clicked. 

And then I saw it.

Deposit: $20,000.00

I blinked.

That had to be a mistake.

I leaned in closer, reading the breakdown. It was real. Four weeks of work, including the LA shoot. Flights and accommodations were comped, of course—but still. This was what I was paid?

My chest tightened. I wasn’t used to seeing numbers like this beside my name. Before this, I was freelancing in London, lucky to get maybe $30 an hour on a good day. Most gigs barely paid enough for rent and groceries. I’d spent years chasing invoices and doing free shoots just to get published.

And now… this?

I leaned back in my chair, staring at the screen like it might suddenly correct itself. But the number stayed the same.

Twenty thousand. For one month.

For working under Matt. 

My stomach fluttered—not in the excited way, but in the confused, slightly overwhelmed way.

This wasn’t just generous. It was…excessive. Even for a high-end company. Even for Matt.

I rubbed my temples. Was this some weird favor? Was he just being nice because of Noah?

Or worse—was it because of what happened between us?

I didn’t want to believe that. He hadn’t treated me like that. Not once. Still… the thought lingered.

I was probably being dramatic. Matt doesn’t pay me; his company does. 

I closed the laptop slowly, trying to catch my breath. I flopped onto my bed, my mind racing. My job felt real, my photos were actually getting used. I had seen a photo I took of Matt of a billboard the other day, and I felt really good about it. 

Matt and I had exchanged a few texts since that night at the waterfront—simple messages, casual check-ins, nothing heavy. But I found myself looking forward to every buzz, every word from him. I liked texting Matt. I liked talking to him. Hell, I liked being around him.

It was too late. Deep down, I knew—I was falling for Matt all over again. Though this time, I wasn’t the helpless fourteen-year-old crushing on the older, untouchable guy. Now, as cliché as it sounded, maybe I actually had a chance. After all, Matt kissed me. Didn’t he?

Still, the thought sent a mix of excitement and nerves swirling inside me. Could things be different this time? Or was I just setting myself up? 

I grabbed my phone and opened Instagram, then searched for Matt’s account. The last four posts were photos I had taken—my work, framed perfectly on his feed.

Seeing my shots there made my chest tighten a little. It was like a quiet reminder of how close we’d been, in ways I wasn’t ready to admit out loud.

MATTHEW

The bar was dimly lit, the kind of place Noah and I used to hit up before life got too serious. We had our usual corner booth—same spot, same whiskey, just older versions of ourselves now.

Noah slid into the seat across from me, already shrugging off his coat. “Man, it’s freezing out,” he muttered, rubbing his hands together before grabbing his drink.

I lifted my glass in response. “Welcome home.”

He clicked his against mine. “Cheers.”

We drank in silence for a moment, the low hum of music and scattered conversations filling the space between us. I watched him carefully—he looked tired, but better than the last time I saw him. The city grind hadn’t swallowed him whole yet.

“So,” he said, leaning back. “How’s work?”

“Busy,” I replied, tracing the rim of my glass. “Photoshoots, meetings, running from place to place.”

He nodded slowly, then looked at me a little too directly. “And my sister?”

I kept my face calm. “She’s good. Talented. Focused.”

“Yeah,” he said, watching me. “She’s doing better than I thought she would be, coming back here.”

I nodded. “She’s a hard worker.”

He took a sip of his drink, his eyes still on me. “You've been good to her?”

The question hit heavier than it should have. I knew what he was asking, even if he wasn’t saying it outright. I met his gaze. “I have.”

He didn’t say anything for a second, then gave a short nod. “Good. She deserves that.”

I nodded too, slower. “I know.”

There was an edge to his silence now, and I couldn’t tell if it was suspicion or just big-brother mode kicking in. Either way, it made the back of my neck feel warm.

“She told me she went to L.A. with your team,” he added casually, but his tone wasn’t casual at all.

“She did,” I said. “Handled it well.”

Noah raised a brow, but thankfully didn’t push. Instead, he just leaned back and let the weight of his stare fade.

“I trust you, you know,” he finally said.

I looked down at my glass. “I know.”     

Gosh, if he knew what I’d done. If he knew what we’d both done. If he had any idea how hard it was getting to look at her and not want more. I wasn’t sure how much longer I could hold back.   

We shifted off the topic and the tension with it. Talked about old high school stories, bad fashion choices, that time Nick got a tattoo of a pizza slice on a dare—just stupid shit that made us laugh harder than we should’ve.

Noah was halfway through a story about Chris accidentally locking himself in our dad’s wine cellar when two girls appeared at the side of our table.

Both dressed like they knew what they were doing—tight dresses, confidence in their walk, glossy lips. The taller one smiled directly at me. The other leaned on the edge of Noah’s side, tossing her hair a little dramatically.

“Hey,” the one closest to me said. “You guys here alone?”

Noah, being Noah, straightened up a bit. “Just catching up. What about you?”

“We saw you from the bar,” the one near me said, eyes holding mine. “You looked…fun.”

I smiled out of habit, but it didn’t reach my eyes.

Noah caught it instantly. He looked over at me with a raised brow.

“Come sit,” he offered them casually.

They slid in without hesitation—Noah was already starting to flirt, leaning in a little, the way he always did when he was interested.

The girl next to me pressed closer, her perfume sharp and overwhelming. I moved my arm slightly away.

“So, what do you do?” she asked.

“Model,” I said simply, not feeling like entertaining more than that.

She leaned in, tracing her finger on the rim of her drink. “Of course you do.”

Noah glanced at me again—this time, longer. Noticing how stiff I was, how I hadn’t even turned toward the girl properly.

“You good?” he asked, in that tone only a best friend would use. Like: what the hell is going on with you?

I nodded, but I could see the confusion in his face.

This wasn’t like me. Usually, I’d have been laughing. Buying her another drink. Maybe taking her home.

But not tonight, because even though Daphne and I hadn’t defined anything, I couldn’t sit here and entertain someone else when I still remembered the taste of her mouth from two nights ago.

Noah could see it all over my face.

The two girls laughed at something—probably each other—and the one beside me leaned over, brushing her hand against my arm as she stood.

“We’re gonna go say hi to some friends,” she said with a sultry smile, already twisting her body like she was expecting me to watch her walk away. “Be right back.”

I gave a polite nod. “Cool.”

Noah watched them disappear into the crowd, then turned to me slowly, narrowing his eyes.

“So… you’re not into her?” he asked, like he was double-checking what he’d already figured out.

I shook my head once. “Nah.”

He leaned back in his chair, eyebrows drawn. “Seriously?”

I didn’t say anything, just stared at the amber liquid in my glass.

“No offense, but… that’s literally your type,” he said, motioning in the direction the girls had walked off in. “Tall, hot, face full of makeup, huge—” he stopped himself with a smirk, “—you know.”

I cracked a half-smile. “I know.”

He tilted his head at me. “So, what gives?”

A short, 5-foot, burnette with a baby pink and matcha obsession–or simply your sister. 

I exhaled slowly, shrugging as I looked away. “I don’t know.”

Noah gave me a look. One that said bullshit, but he didn’t push. Instead, he clapped my shoulder lightly and leaned back.

“Just relax, man. You’re overthinking.” “Yeah,” I mumbled, nodding just to move on. “You’re right.”

We ordered some food, and after a few more drinks, the warmth of the liquor settled in my bloodstream, dulling the edge of whatever the hell I was feeling.

That’s when the girls came back.

The one who’d been sitting beside me didn’t even hesitate. She slid back into the booth, but this time, she didn’t just sit next to me—she straddled my lap, arms loosely looping around my neck like it was the most casual thing in the world.

Her perfume hit me instantly—something sharp and floral. Her lips pressed against mine before I even processed what was happening. I didn’t kiss back, not really, but I didn’t stop her either.

Noah glanced over with a smug grin, the other girl now tucked into his side. He raised his brows like that’s more like it.

But the second her lips were on me, something twisted in my stomach. It felt... wrong.

Technically, I wasn’t doing anything wrong. I wasn’t tied to anyone. Daphne and I weren’t anything official. She even said it herself—“just a one-time thing”—twice. 

So why did I feel like I was betraying her?

I didn’t touch the girl. Didn’t wrap my arms around her. I just let her do her thing while I stared blankly over her shoulder, jaw tight, counting the seconds until she got bored or I could think of a way to make her get off me without making a scene. 

The truth was, my mind wasn’t here. It was across the city, in a quiet apartment where a girl with soft brown eyes and a voice like honey once told me I was a good listener, next to the waterfront.

The music pulsed through the floor beneath my boots, the bass heavy enough to rattle in my chest. The girl was still on my lap, tracing lazy circles on the back of my neck with her nails while talking about something I wasn’t listening to.

Then I looked over, and Noah was gone.

I scanned the bar, squinting past the dim lights and shifting crowds, but yeah… he was gone. Him and the girl had disappeared, probably upstairs to one of the private rooms this place had for whatever “after-hours fun” people wanted.

Typical.

“Looks like your friend found some company,” the girl on my lap said with a sly smile, biting her lip. Her tone dipped low. “Wanna go upstairs too?”

Her hand slipped down to my chest, fingers dragging slowly like she already assumed the answer was yes.

I looked at her.

She was beautiful—long lashes, lips done just enough to look glossy but not sticky, curves that would drive most men crazy. If this was any other night, any other version of me from a few days ago, I probably would’ve already been halfway up the stairs with her by now.

I wasn’t that guy, at least… I didn’t feel like him anymore.

I grabbed her hand, gently, and pulled it away from my chest.

She blinked. “So… no?”

I shook my head, offering a soft, apologetic smile. “Not tonight.”

She didn’t say anything at first, just stared at me like I was joking. When she realized I wasn’t, she climbed off my lap with a small scoff, flipping her hair over her shoulder.

“Your loss,” she muttered, before disappearing into the crowd.

Maybe it was. However, right now, the only girl I could think about wasn’t here. 

I leaned back against the booth, exhaling slowly, letting the noise of the bar blur into the background.

What the hell am I doing?

I ran a hand down my face, the alcohol buzzing just enough to dull the edges, but not enough to drown the thoughts crowding my head.

Noah’s little sister. The one girl I shouldn’t even be thinking about like this.

He was always protective of her—too protective. Hell, when we were younger, he’d give any guy a death stare if they even looked at her too long. 

Noah knew me. The one who went through girls like they were names on a list. He never would’ve expected me to get close to Daphne, even if it was for work, and maybe he was right to be cautious.

But I wasn’t playing around.

That’s the part I couldn’t explain—even to myself. I’ve had flings, crushes, even something close to feelings a few times. But this? This felt… different.

The way she looked at me was like she actually saw me. Not Matt-the-model. Not Matt-the-name. Just…me.

And the way I kept catching myself wanting to tell her things I don’t even talk to Chris or Nick about.

I didn’t know what it meant. I knew one thing—I wasn’t ready to let it go.

Even if I had to pretend like nothing happened. Even if I had to keep acting like she was just my best friend’s little sister anymore. 

Noah came stumbling back down the stairs, hair ruffled, shirt untucked, and a smug grin painted across his face.

“Alright,” I muttered, watching him approach.

He ran a hand through his hair like it would fix anything. “Are you ready to head out?” he asked, eyes slightly glazed but wide with energy.

I glanced around. The girl who had been on me was now distracted with her friends again. I slid out of the booth, grabbing my jacket. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

“Yo, I’m starving,” Noah said, stretching his arms as we stepped outside into the cooler air. “Let’s grab something greasy, man. Come back to mine? We can order in.”

I hesitated, just for a second.

“C’mon,” he added, nudging my shoulder. “It’s been a while.”

I gave a quick nod. “Alright, sounds good.”

However, my chest tightened a little because I knew who was going to be there, and I didn’t trust myself around her. Not anymore.

I followed behind Noah’s car, keeping a steady pace as we weaved through the late-night traffic. The city lights blurred past my windshield, but my mind wasn’t on the road. It was still spinning, full of nerves. I needed to cut it out, I was 26, damn it, too old to be acting like a school boy. 

Noah’s turn signal blinks ahead of me, pulling me out of it. He turned into the familiar lot of their apartment building and pulled into his usual spot. I found one a few feet down, cut the engine, and stepped out.

Noah was leaning against his door, waiting for me, arms crossed lazily. “You good?”

“Yeah,” I said, shutting my door. “Just tired.”

We walked in together, through the front entrance, nodding at the tired-looking security guy at the front desk. The elevator dinged open after a short wait, and we stepped inside. The ride up was quiet.

The closer we got to their floor, the tighter my chest felt. I could already picture her, probably in sweats, probably curled up on that grey couch with her laptop open, maybe half-asleep with her hair up, maybe still awake with her glasses on.

I hated how easily I could picture her.

When the elevator doors opened, Noah walked out first, keys dangling from his hand. I followed behind, trying not to overthink the thud in my chest with every step we took closer to their door.

Noah pushed open the door and stepped in like he owned the place, which he did. He kicked off his shoes and called out, voice echoing through the apartment.

“Daph!”

There was a shuffle from down the hall, then her voice floated out. “Yeah?”

She came around the corner, her hair down, wearing an oversized crewneck and bike shorts, holding a mug in her hand.

“Can you take your—” she started, then stopped dead in her tracks.

Her eyes locked onto me.

The mug paused halfway to her lips. “Matt.”

I gave a small, easy smile. “Hey.”

She blinked, then cleared her throat and smiled politely. “Hey. I didn’t know you were coming.”

Noah had already dropped onto the couch, grabbing the remote. “We’re getting food, want anything?”

Daphne glanced between us quickly. “Whatever you're getting is fine.”

She turned, walking toward the kitchen and muttering under her breath, “Still need you to take your laundry out of the bin, by the way.”

Noah groaned from the couch. “I will! Chill.”

I stood there for another second, still staring at her back as she disappeared into the kitchen.

Yeah. I was definitely in trouble.

We settled in the living room, Noah grabbing the controller first and firing up a racing game. The TV lit up with the roar of engines and screech of tires as we battled it out, laughing and trash-talking like we hadn’t seen each other in months.

A couple of rounds later, the doorbell rang. Noah jumped up. “That must be the pizza.”

I followed him to the door and took the boxes from the delivery guy. “Alright, let’s eat.”

Noah called out, “Daph! Food’s here!”

A few seconds later, she appeared in the living room. Effortlessly stunning 

She glanced at me briefly and then at the boxes, then raised an eyebrow. “You guys only got pizza?”

Noah shrugged, opening a box. “Yeah, what’s wrong?”

She let out a heavy sigh, crossing her arms. “Noah, you know I don’t like pizza.”

He looked up, a little surprised. “Sorry, I thought you’d just eat it.”

She shook her head, frustration creeping into her voice. “You know I don’t like pizza. You could’ve gotten something else.”

I looked between Noah and her, and even though she tried to hide it, the disappointment was all over her face. She had clearly been waiting for something decent to eat—and this wasn’t it.

“You said you’d be good with whatever we were getting,” Noah muttered, clearly a little annoyed.

Daphne let out a quiet sigh. “Yeah, but… I thought you’d be considerate.”

With that, she turned and walked off down the hall, disappearing into her room without another word.

Noah shook his head. “Man, she’s so dramatic sometimes.”

I didn’t say anything because the truth was, I didn’t think she was being dramatic at all. I think she just wanted to be thought of. 

I sat in silence, slowly chewing my slice of pizza as the sounds of the video game filled the room. Noah was zoned in, trash-talking the screen while I quietly reached for my phone. I opened the delivery app and scrolled through the options, knowing exactly what to look for—some of her favorites: grilled chicken rice bowl, dumplings, and a side of cucumber salad. I added a matcha to the cart without second-guessing it.

I glanced over at Noah. He was too busy cursing at his controller to notice anything I was doing.

I paid, hit order, and leaned back.

About half an hour later, my phone buzzed. Your order has arrived. I unlocked my phone and opened Daphne’s contact. Me: Check the front door. I got you something.

I stared at the screen, waiting. A minute passed.

Daphne: What did you get?

Me: Just check. Maybe grab it quietly.

There was a pause. I heard a door creak gently down the hall, soft footsteps padding toward the entrance.

I didn’t look up, just kept pretending to scroll, listening. A quiet shuffle, the rustling of a bag being picked up. With that, I heard her go back to her room. Two minutes later, my phone buzzed. 

Daphne: Matt, did you really get this for me?

Me: Figured you shouldn’t have to settle for pizza if you didn’t want it.

Daphne: You remembered the matcha

I felt a smirk tug at the edge of my mouth.

Me: Of course I did

There was a longer pause this time before she replied.

Daphne: Thank you.

I typed slowly.

Me: Enjoy, sweetheart

I finally looked up from my phone. Noah was still deep into his game, completely unaware. I leaned back into the couch, one thought running through my mind: I was screwed. 

Noah was half-slumped on the couch now, controller in hand but no longer moving. The screen flashed the “Game Over” screen, but he didn’t even blink. His head tilted back against the cushions, his eyes barely open.

“I’m gonna head out,” I said quietly, grabbing my keys and sliding my phone into my pocket. “I’ll see you at the engagement tomorrow.”

Noah grunted something in return, a lazy wave of his hand.

“Oh—” I added casually, “I’m just gonna ask Daphne something real quick. About work stuff.”

“Mmh,” he mumbled without opening his eyes. “Yeah, whatever…”

I walked down the hallway slowly, pausing just outside her door. It was cracked open an inch, a faint light slipping through. I raised my hand and knocked gently.

“Sweetheart?” I said low.

She pulled the door open a little wider, standing there, her hair pulled back, a wooden fork between her fingers, and the food container still open on her desk.

“Hey,” she said, voice soft. “Are you leaving?”

I nodded once. “Yeah… just wanted to ask you something before I go. I told Noah it's about work.” She tilted her head slightly. “About what?”

I glanced behind me, making sure no one was there, then turned back to her, lowering my voice even more.

“Not really about work,” I admitted. “Just…can I come in for a sec?”

She blinked, surprised, but didn’t move to close the door. Instead, she stepped back and opened it for me to come in.

“Sure,” she said, quieter now. “What’s up?”

I stepped in, the door clicking shut quietly behind me, sealing us into the soft silence of her room. My heart was already pounding harder than I wanted to admit.

“I’ve been wanting to see you,” I said, my voice low, unsure.

She looked up at me with that small, shy smile. “Yeah?”

I nodded, returning the smile. “Yeah.”

“Thank you for the food, Matt,” she said, offering a soft smile, “Really.”

I nodded, trying to match it with my own. “It was nothing.”

My throat felt tight, like the words were too big for the space. “I’ve been thinking about you,” I murmured, almost like a confession. “About us.”

She didn’t respond right away, just nodded slightly, eyes steady on mine, waiting—like she knew more was coming.

“I was wondering if you wanted to—”

She suddenly tilted her head, eyes dropping just a little from my face. Her beautiful smile is gone.

“What’s that?” she asked, her voice softer, more cautious.

It took me a second to realize what she meant.

Her gaze was locked on my neck.

The heat rushed up my neck as I instinctively brought my hand to the side of it—too late. I knew what was there. The mark from earlier. One I hadn’t asked for. One I didn’t even want.

“Sweetheart…” I started gently.

She didn’t say anything. Her eyes stayed fixed on the spot like it was burning into her. Then she slowly looked back up at me, her smile completely gone.

“Listen—” I said quickly, reaching for her arm. “It’s not what it looks like. I’ve really been waiting to see you all day, Daph.”

She didn’t pull away right away, but the look she gave me—God, it cut deep.

“Yeah?” she said quietly, but her voice had a bitter edge. “That's why you got knocked up before you came to see me?”

“No—it wasn’t like that,” I said, desperate to close the space between us.

She shook her head and gently pulled her arm away. “It’s fine, Matt.”

“Daph, don’t do that—”

“We’re not together,” she said, looking past me now. “It’s fine. Really. Let’s just keep things professional.”

I saw it—just for a second—the crack in her composure. Her lips pressed tight, her chest rising with shallow breaths. She was hurt. Bad. And I didn’t know how to fix it.

“Can we please talk about this?” I tried again, my voice lower now. “I swear, it didn’t mean anything. I didn’t even want it to happen. I just—”

“Matt,” she said softly, but firmly. Her eyes met mine, glassy. “Please… just go.”

I froze. She was blinking fast now, and I could see it. She was trying not to cry.

“I’ll see you at the next shoot,” she added, turning away before I could say another word.

I stood there for a beat, helpless. Everything I wanted to say sat heavy in my throat, but none of it would change what she saw. What it looked like. I’d explain myself eventually, just seemed wrong now. She needed to cool off. 

I did what she asked and halfheartedly walked out feeling like a coward. Even though I wanted to do the exact opposite.

READ ALL RELEASED CHAPTERS NOW!

[a/n: wompp, another update because I'm getting busy this week. mwah like and reblog!] –ceyana

Tags: @oopsiedaisydeer @ribbonlovergirl @mattsfrenchtoast @lm-a-mirrorball @urlocallera @kingofeverythingmb @idkwhatimdoinghereeeeeee @malox12 @sturnslux3 @carrielovesmatt @vanillakissesxx @sagesturns @enviedparty101 @kiarasmaybank @mattscore @fmg05 @mattsdiva @kenah-sturniolo @tropicfessed @courta13 @meatballlover10 @ellssturn @idkwhatthisis2009 @mattspillowprincess @chrissturniolodailysluts @babyt0matoes

(Comment "taglist" on this post to be added to list!)

[unveiledelle]

Claggor being in love with benzos adoptive daughter since they were young and always having cute little moments when they'd sneak out to the rooftops to look at the moon and stars and just talk.

He's always awkward around her and stuttering not being able to keep his composure even into adulthood he's all jittery around her and blushing. But still no confession. Until one at a invention convention Benzo and Powder plot.

Benzo pushes his daughter, while powder shoves Claggor making them bump into one another. The contact sends sparks through one another. Claggors a stuttering mess of course unable to form words.

"Hi Clags"

He freezes at the nickname she's given him since their youth him face flush and mouth at a thin line

"Hi y/n"

"Dance with me?"

He looks to her hand then grabs it. His hand completely covering hers as she pulls him along. He's nervous. Unable to look at her as they get into position to sway to the music. His brain turning to mush as her hands are placed on his shoulders and his on her hips.

"Are you really going to make me have to make the first move after all these years clags?"

He looks to her finally confused, but she quickly pulls him down by the back of his head into a soft kiss that he returns tenfold.

*Benzo and powder smile from the distance finally seeing what was supposed to be some years ago"

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Thank you anon for feeding my delusions 🙏

Helloo! I'm back again after a month of disappearance 😭 Just had a very stressful month...

Anyway this has been sitting on my inbox since March. Idk who the OP was and I hope you're still here. I'm so sorry it took me this long to post your hc. When this was sent to me, I'm not really sure how to respond so I thought about making a visualizer instead. Also, I have no clue what your OC looks like so I hope you don't mind if I added my shameless self-insert instead.

To make it up, I made a version of just AU Claggor so my fellow Claggor fans can add their own OC or self-insert to the picture :3 (PLEASE I NEED TO SEE YOUR OCS AND SELF-INSERTS. I CAN'T BE THE ONLY DELUSIONAL CLAGGOR FAN OUT HERE </3 )

If you guys have an OC/self-insert that's taller than AU Claggor, you can use this version of him that is slightly looking up:

Also, a few reminders if you guys decide to use my drawings:

1. Please do not remove my watermark or alter my drawing of Claggor in any way. You can add your signature next to mine so it's understandable that it's a collab piece. 2. If you plan to post it online, please tag me (either on this account @unveiledelle or my main account @fiongbonto) and link this post. 3. Ask for my permission first if you plan to repost it on platforms other than tumblr, twitter, bluesky, and instagram. My DMs are open, please don't be shy to message me :)

[local-dragon-haunt]

so i have made like sheet/writen data/whatever i rembred in you au,in order to be able to fangirl more, so wanted to ask if everything is right or i rembre dsomething wrong in the data?

Human Perry/little brother AU:

Perry Flynn-Fletcher / Agent Codename: perry The Platypus, agent p.

Age: 9

Species: Human (bio-engineered using DNA from two random OWCA agents, basicly ivf test tube baby)

Codename: The Platypus — thus, “Perry the Platypus” becomes his full agent name. aka agent p .

Communication: Selectively mute. Uses sign language to communicate, speaks only rarely. Quiet in both daily life and during missions.

Personality: Calm, observant, emotionally reserved. Keeps to himself. ,he’s deeply compassionate under the surface and cares for his family, and he is just like shows perry hence perfect and can do no wrong and i will not lisgten to anything esle.

Training: Trained as an OWCA agent since he could walk. Highly skilled, elite level. One of the best — possibly the best — OWCA has.

Cover:

Poses as a student at a highly selective and suceesfull private "academy" (actually OWCA).

The school has no summer break and frequent field trips — cover for missions.

His signature fedora and outfit are part of the "school uniform."

vanesa helped pick his outfit once, toconvert him to the dark side(aka Brought him to the mall, as she took one look at him and went "baby goth")

stacy eventuly found out like in show but kept secret like in show,(angst potential)

Family Life:

Fostered by the Flynn-Fletchers at age 3, adopted at age 5.

Loved and cared for deeply. Phineas and Ferb 's younger brother. phieas in particular is a realy doting and expresive older brother.

None of the family know about his agent life, and they’re not suspicious.

They believe his school is simply elite, demanding, and strange — but legit.

phieas,ferb and perry share a room, with ferb and perry having a bunk bed.

Percy “Pinky” Garcia-Shapiro / Agent Codename: pinky The Chihuahua

Species: Human (OWCA agent), but inspired by his canon animal form: a Chihuahua. Nicknamed Pinky.

Age: Around Perry’s age (9?)

Relation: Adopted brother of Isabella Garcia-Shapiro

Recruitment:

Tech genius who hacked into OWCA’s systems on his own as a child.

Adopted — qualified under OWCA’s “exploitable gifted child ” criteria.

Personality: More expressive and talkative than Perry. Energetic, witty, sarcastic. Excellent at tech, infiltration, hacking.

Relationship with Perry:

(Strong bond?( probably)) Perry’s friend.

They understand each other as they are in the same boat and closer in age.

OWCA: The Organization Without a Cool Acronym

Public Cover: Elite private “success school” for the gifted.

Actual Purpose: Covert child-agent spy organization.

Recruitment Policy:

Only recruits children with trauma?, from foster care, adoption, or bad backgrounds — or those created(ivf test tube baies) by OWCA itself (like Perry).

They refuse to recruit healthy, happy kids, believing those kids deserve normal lives. hence phias and ferb and the gang are not recruted.

Talent alone isn’t enough — emotional damage is the first test.

They justify it by basicly saying: “We give these kids a purpose. The world needs them.”

Morality: Deeply morally gray . They genuinely think they’re saving the world (kind of are tho??) and helping broken kids — but they’re using them all the same.

The Flynn-Fletcher Family

Phineas Flynn (11) and Ferb Fletcher (11):

Genius inventors as always. Totally unaware of Perry’s secret life.

See Perry as their quiet and cool (cute) little brother. They dont like perry's school's odd rules :(

but are as oblivious as always

Candace Flynn (15):

Oblivious to OWCA or Perry’s real life. i find it ironic in a way i cant explain, like candice your youngset brothers school could use busting.

Focused entirely on busting Phineas and Ferb — does not get suspicious of Perry at all.

Linda & Lawrence:

Loving, supportive parents.( we stan)

Think Perry is a sweet, quiet, gifted child with an unusual but prestigious education.

Dr. Heinz Doofenshmirtz

Still Perry’s nemesis.

Assigned specifically to Perry because:

Doof has a traumatic childhood, and OWCA knows he would never hurt a child.

He builds elaborate traps to avoid real confrontation.

Relationship with Perry:

basicly the same as in the cannon.

gets beaten up by a(skilled) child reguraly.

dosent wanna caus harm as he is a decnt person depp down.

CURSE YOU PERRY THE PLATYPUS!

i wanted to ask if all my information gathred was right, and also

what is perry's dynamic with phinaes and ferbs friend? infact could you tell me more about his dynamic with ferb and candice?

:)

i am afrid your au is one of those where my brian willl not let go so i hyperfiaxteinsetd of being normal human being. lol

LMAOO ur doing a better job at making a master doc than I am!

I'm gonna give you a TENTATIVE 'yes, you're correct' to most of these things. If you can't tell purely from my art progression, this AU is really old, and I took quite a few years' break from it, so now that I'm getting back into PNF I want to go back and really iron out some things, which is probably gonna retcon some minor details. I know for SURE that Pinky's backstory is going to change, bc it's essential for the next fic I'm writing (which should hopefully go up sometime next week? hopefully?)

But yeah. You got everything pretty much spot on, except for the school uniform (which is totally valid since I completely redesigned it a few years back lol). Just Perry's undershirt and pants are his 'school uniform'. His trenchcoat and fedora are exclusively his 'agent uniform', which he wears exclusively on missions, and the Flynn-Fletchers are not to see him wearing them. Like this!

Anyways, I imagine Perry has a very similar relationship to the other kids as PNF do. Clearly he doesn't get to hang out with them as often, but they are friends!

So yeah! Sorry for the rambles. Very very honored to have caused a hyperfixation (I am so, so sorry)

[azzifudd10]

Chapter 23: For The Peace You Give Me

Paige had never been the girl who dreamed of wedding dresses. Even when she was younger, back before college and WNBA pressure and the ache of heartbreak, she never spent afternoons fantasizing about her walk down the aisle or the ring on her finger. Love had always been complicated. Commitment, a storm of responsibility. Peace, elusive. Until Azzi. And then it all started to feel different. It didn’t come on all at once — it was gradual, soft as breath. Azzi sleeping on her chest after a long road trip. Azzi humming in the kitchen while stirring pasta sauce. Azzi barefoot in the living room with Jazlyn curled in her lap, both of them half-asleep during a Pixar movie. Paige had been in love before. But she had never belonged somewhere before. That was what Azzi gave her. Belonging. And so when she started thinking about marriage, it wasn’t flashy or loud. It was quiet. Sacred. A want that wrapped around her chest and wouldn’t let go. But the idea of asking — that was a whole other thing.

The first person she talked to was Katie. They were sitting outside Azzi’s childhood home in Virginia during a rare off-week, watching Jazlyn run barefoot through the grass with Azzi’s younger cousins. Katie handed Paige an iced tea and gave her that signature mom-look — the one that saw everything without needing to ask. Paige fiddled with the rim of her glass. “I need your advice. And also… maybe your permission.” Katie’s eyes lit up, but she didn’t interrupt. “I want to propose,” Paige said, her voice barely louder than the wind rustling the trees. “To Azzi.” Katie’s breath caught. Then softened. “Oh, sweetheart.” “I’ve never wanted anything more,” Paige continued, hands now shaking, “but I also know what she’s been through. And I know what I’ve put her through. And I’m scared that if I try to give her forever, I’ll mess it up. That I’ll never be enough.” Katie put her hand over hers. “You’re enough just by loving her like you do.” “I don’t have a peaceful heart,” Paige whispered, eyes glassy. “Not like her. She’s calm and good and kind. I’m… I’m chaos. I come with press and pressure and everything loud. And I want to give her quiet. I want to be her quiet.” Katie blinked hard. “Paige Bueckers,” she said softly, “you are the only person I’ve ever seen my daughter be completely at home with. That’s not because you’re perfect. It’s because you try. Because you care. And because Jazlyn calls her mommy like it’s the most natural word in the world.” That did it. Tears slipped down Paige’s cheeks. She didn’t even try to wipe them. “She’s my home,” she said hoarsely. Katie pulled her into a hug. “Then ask her to stay. Ask her to be yours. We’ll all be behind you.”

The next step was the one she’d dreaded most. Azzi’s dad. Tim Fudd wasn’t intimidating in a loud way — he was calm, like Azzi, but you could feel the weight behind every word. He knew how to listen. And even worse, how to wait for the truth to rise. Paige caught him outside the next morning, helping fix the gate on the front porch. Her palms were sweating. “Sir,” she started, then corrected herself. “Mr. Fudd. Tim.” He looked up, wiping his hands on his jeans. “You okay, kid?” She almost laughed. “Not even a little.” “Talk to me.” Paige took a breath, then all at once: “I want to marry your daughter.” Tim blinked. “I love her. I love her more than I’ve ever loved anything. And I know I’m not the easiest person. I know what happened before, with Jaz’s dad — how scared she was, how much she got hurt. I know that love isn’t always safe. But I want to be. I want to be the person who never makes her flinch. I want to be the reason she feels protected, and grounded, and free.” Tim didn’t speak for a long moment. Then he asked, “Do you want to love her? Or do you want to keep loving her when it’s hard?” Paige didn’t hesitate. “Both. Always.” Tim gave a slow nod. “Then you have my blessing. And my trust. But you better take care of my girls.” Paige nodded quickly, voice cracking. “I will.”

She spent the next two weeks looking at rings. Not flashy ones. Not the kind with giant stones that caught the light and screamed for attention. She wanted something meaningful. Something that felt like Azzi. She landed on a ring with a twisted gold band — two threads intertwined like vines, holding a small diamond in the center. Simple. Strong. Beautiful. Quiet, like the life she wanted to build. She kept it tucked in the back of her sock drawer in their LA Townhouse, checking on it like it might vanish if she didn’t look every day. But what she couldn’t figure out was how to ask. It had to be perfect. Except Azzi never needed perfect. Azzi just needed real.

The night Paige knew she was ready, the sky was dark and humming with stars. Jazlyn had fallen asleep early, curled between them on the couch, still in her Sparks jersey and socks mismatched. Azzi was braiding Paige’s hair absentmindedly, fingers soft and sure. And Paige couldn’t stop staring at her. The way her lashes fluttered when she focused. The soft curve of her smile. The weight of every shared moment in her eyes. “Az,” Paige whispered. “Yeah, baby?” “Do you think peace is something we make… or something we find?” Azzi paused, looking down at her. “I think… it’s something we choose. Every day. Even when it’s hard.” Paige swallowed. “Would you choose it with me?” Azzi smiled, eyes soft. “I already do.” And that was when Paige knew. That night, she slipped out of bed after Azzi had fallen asleep and stood by the window, staring out at the city. The ring felt heavy in her hand. She didn’t know exactly when she’d ask. But she knew the answer. Azzi was her peace. Somehow, someway, someday… they were going to make forever feel like home.

[flowerakatsuka]

after trying to figure out his design for awhile, i finally finished a reference for kuroba's granddad, chouji!

[ more info under the cut! ]

YOTSUBANA CHOUJI ( first name meaning clove )

~ 70 years old • he / him • 6'2" ( 188 cm )

Kuroba's maternal grandfather and the previous florist at Yotsubana Florals. He opened the shop with his late wife, Hibiki, but after her passing and experiencing a severe fall at work, he retired and Kuroba took over the daily operations of the store. Currently, he lives with Kuroba's parents in Yokohama and checks in on them every other month, ( they talk over the phone almost daily, though. ) Despite his grumpy appearance, Chouji is actually pretty level-headed and kind. He can be fairly stubborn at times, though. Kuroba and him are very close, especially after Hibiki's passing. They respect him quite a lot as their grandfather and their mentor. His accident at the store rattled them quite a lot and lead to them fretting over him a lot more.

Born and raised in Akatsuka, but both of his parents were from Osaka.

Met Hibiki and fell in love at first sight while visiting Okinawa to study Okinawan Hibiscus, which her family was a supplier of.

His cat, Giku, was a former stray that hung around the shop near the time Hibiki passed. Eventually, she refused to leave the store so Chouji took her in. Her coloring reminded him of daisies, which were one of Hibiki's favorite flowers. Because of that, he also says that she sent her to keep an eye on him.

He started taking care of the family's garden when he moved to Yokohama, as well as getting really into tending to bonsai. Giku is the garden's " guardian " and chases off beetles that try to munch on their plants.

Karamatsu was EXTREMELY intimidated by Chouji when they first met, but they actually hit it off pretty quickly, ( especially when Karamatsu showed a lot of interest in hearing about Hibiki and his love story. ) He's grown kind of fond of him, which makes sense since Kuroba and him are pretty similar. Also, he's started looking into getting a Dwarf Blue Larix bonsai. No particular reason why.

Kuroba typically calls him Ochoujii-san, but will sometimes drop the honorific.

[toasteaa]

Actually, I'm curious: whenever you think about, write, draw, etc. your fave and/or your f/o, do you give them any specific quirks? Behavioral quirks, speech patterns, habits that they may have always had or slowly picked up from you?

[hauntingblue]

Hody should have known to shut up before saying he wants to be pirate king.... now it's personal

[rayveneyed]

nanami kento is the kind of man that makes people swoon without even realising it.

he's the kind of man to walk into a luxury store after work, suit jacket folded over one arm and a bouquet of flowers in the other -- his blonde hair still mostly perfect from the high-end pomade he uses. he scours the shelves, frowning to himself, while the attendants whisper and giggle amongst themselves near the tills -- an argument over who will be the one to talk to him, because he's intimidatingly pretty.

("just look at him," one whispers. "he's definitely buying something for a girlfriend."

"a wife," another disagrees. "c'mon. he's giving husband vibes."

someone hums. "but i can't see a wedding band."

"his mother, maybe?" says one other. "oh, i love when guys come in shopping for their mother."

"nobody's mother is getting a bouquet of a hundred red roses--")

eventually, one of them is volunteered as a sacrifice -- smiling and sweet as all attendants should be, she clears her throat. the others, crowded around the till, watch the exchange closely. "excuse me, sir. is there anything we could help you with today?"

her mouth is dry and her hands are clammy -- and when he fixes her with those narrow, burning eyes, her throat bobs.

"ah, yes." and his voice is deep and gravelly and drawling, and her stomach turns. she can only imagine what her coworkers are thinking -- hell, she can only imagine what she's thinking. her mind has stopped short. "my girlfriend likes this brand quite a bit. i thought i'd pick her up something..."

disappointment brews in her stomach -- and it's stupid, she knows it's stupid, because obviously a guy like that is taken. and -- she glances down at the roses -- obviously he treats her super fucking well. of course he does, because why wouldn't he? "oh, perfect! do you have anything in mind?"

"well, actually..."

he ends up buying one of the priciest gift boxes available -- fancy body care and perfume laid out in their signature boxes, decorated with ribbon and dried lavender -- no argument, no fight. he doesn't look for something cheaper, doesn't try to haggle or remove something to decrease the price. he adds, and adds, and adds -- and when she mentions a special offer at the till, a little add on for an extra 2000 yen, he accepts it readily. he inserts a black card into the card machine (of course, a black card), takes the beautifully wrapped bag, and thanks the girls for their services -- and just as he's leaving, his phone rings.

of course he answers the phone with hello, darling. of course he begins to ask his girlfriend about her day, the girls think with some amount of annoyance -- of course. maybe the curse of retail isn't entitled assholes expecting you to wait on hand and foot for them -- maybe it's the handsome men coming in to splurge on their girlfriends while you're painfully single and working for pennies.

[mephisto-reporting]

Husband?

About: How does he react when you accidentally call him your 'husband'? Pairing: Reader x Xavier, Zayne, Rafayel, Sylus (Seperate) Note: Reader and the men are in a relationship. My inbox is open for prompts and requests :)

RAFAYEL

The evening was going smoother than expected, considering Rafayel had dragged you along to one of his many gallery showings. He had made a big deal about how you should be the one showing off his work to the public, claiming he didn’t want to deal with the “art-snobs." Yet, the second you both arrived, he quickly preoccupied himself on his phone, leaving you to handle most of the small talk.

One of the visitors, a curious older woman, was admiring a painting of his, a chaotic burst of color with soft hints of golden light. You were discussing Rafayel’s "creative process" (whatever that was—he hadn't told you much before retreating to his phone), when she asked how long you’d been working with him.

“Oh, it’s been a while now. It’s honestly amazing seeing him grow like this—my husb—” You froze mid-sentence, realizing the slip just as it left your mouth.

"Husband?"

The word hung in the air for barely a second before you felt Rafayel’s presence shift. His head shot up like a bolt of lightning, his playful, cunning eyes locking onto yours. You could practically feel his grin before you even dared to glance over. You didn’t even need to turn around to feel his gaze burning into you, practically shouting, Oh? Husband, you say?

“Husband, huh?” Rafayel drawled, pocketing his phone and sauntering toward you with that signature smirk of his. “I didn’t realize we were making things official tonight. If I’d known, I’d have worn something even more dazzling.”

You flushed, attempting to stammer out a correction, but he was far too pleased to let you off the hook that easily. He leaned casually against the gallery wall, one arm crossing his chest as he dramatically placed a hand over his heart.

He gently took your hand in his, his dramatic flair dialed up to maximum as he pressed an exaggerated kiss to your knuckles, clearly relishing the moment. "I mean, I can’t say I’m surprised. Who wouldn’t want to marry someone as charming as me?"

The visitor chuckled awkwardly, clearly not sure whether to stay or go, but Rafayel was already having way too much fun. “Of course, as your loving husband,” he continued, drawing out the word in a singsong voice, “it’s only fitting that I’m showered with even more attention now, isn’t it? I expect lots of praise, darling. I mean, just look at me." He struck a faux thought-provoking pose, tilting his head and flipping a lock of his perfectly tousled hair.

You felt your cheeks burn with embarrassment, but at the same time, his antics made you laugh. “I didn’t mean to—"

"Oh no, no,” he interrupted, wagging his finger playfully. “You can’t take it back now. The word’s out, Miss Bodyguard. You’ve called me your husband. That means you’re stuck with me. Forever.” There was a mischievous glint in his eyes as he leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a teasing whisper. “Does this mean I get to cheat at board games forever too?”

You groaned, rolling your eyes as you playfully swatted at his shoulder. “As if you needed a reason to cheat more!”

Rafayel laughed, that familiar bratty grin plastered across his face. “Well, if I’m your husband now, I think it’s only fair I get first dibs on everything. Cards, claw machines—oh, and don’t forget, I demand the comfiest seat when we binge-watch our shows.”

Despite his teasing, the warmth in his eyes made your heart skip a beat. You could see the genuine delight he took in your slip-up, how pleased he was at the thought, even if he’d never admit it outright.

“Fine, fine,” you sighed dramatically, playing along. “But don’t expect me to let you win at everything, ‘husband.’”

Rafayel beamed, and for a moment, that bratty, carefree mask of his slipped, just a little. He tugged you closer, his voice softening as he murmured, “Deal.” Then, just as quickly, he switched back to his usual, cheeky self. “Now, let’s go, wife. You’re required to be by my side while I survive this boring night. ”

Shaking your head, you laughed, unable to hide the smile creeping onto your lips. “You’re impossible.”

The woman, watching the scene unfold with a warm smile, laughed. “You two make quite the pair.”

“Oh, we do, don’t we?” Rafayel quipped before lowering his voice just enough for only you to hear, leaning in ever so slightly. “You’ve really outdone yourself, calling me that in front of witnesses. Now they’ll all expect a wedding invitation.”

Your face burned as you tried to shush him, but he was loving every second of it. He tilted his head, his hair catching the light as his smile softened into something more genuine, the bratty exterior fading just a bit. “Still… I can’t say I hate the sound of it,” he murmured, brushing a finger lightly under your chin before pulling back with a playful wink. “I might just get used to hearing it.”

You could only manage a huff of exasperation, but deep down, you couldn’t help but feel a flutter at the way his teasing had just a hint of sincerity behind it.

Rafayel, always dramatic, and yet somehow, just when you least expected it, a little bit sweet.

ZAYNE

You and Zayne were in the middle of your usual weekly grocery run, efficiently dividing and conquering your list to save time. He’d taken off towards the produce section while you headed for the rice aisle. As you browsed the different varieties, a middle-aged man beside you struggled with lifting a heavy bag of rice.

"Need a hand?" you asked, stepping in to help. The man smiled gratefully as you hoisted the bag into his cart with ease.

"Thank you, young lady," he said, rubbing his wrist. "My arthritis is flaring up today. Getting old’s no fun."

You offered him a sympathetic smile. “No problem at all. My husband’s a doctor, actually. I’m sure he’d tell you to take it easy on that wrist."

The man nodded in agreement, offering you one last thanks before heading off. You turned back to your cart, completely unaware of the word you had just let slip—husband—or the fact that Zayne had returned in time to hear it.

You felt him step up behind you, his presence calm yet undeniably magnetic. When you finally glanced over, he was standing there, hands in his pockets, a small, amused smile playing at the corner of his lips.

"Husband, hmm?" he said softly, his tone more curious than teasing. "That's... new."

You froze for a second, eyes widening as you realized what you’d said.  You opened your mouth, the words tripping over each other in a rush. “I didn’t— I mean, it just—slipped out. We’re not actually—I mean, obviously, we’re not—” You could feel the heat creeping up your neck, and no amount of backpedaling was helping.

Zayne didn’t seem in a rush to let you off the hook. His hand found yours, fingers intertwining with an ease that made your heart stutter. “You know,” he said, voice as calm as ever, “if this is your way of bringing it up, there are smoother ways to do it.” His teasing was subtle, barely perceptible if you didn’t know him well, but it was there in the gentle tug of his smile.

You groaned, pressing a hand to your forehead. “Zayne, I didn’t mean to—”

But Zayne, ever level-headed, merely took your hand in his, his thumb gently brushing against your knuckles. “Relax,” he said, his voice low and soothing. “It’s not like I mind the idea.”

Your heart skipped a beat at that, and you looked up at him in surprise. There was a softness in his usually stoic gaze, the kind that made your stomach flip. He continued, his voice measured but affectionate, “Seems like the next logical step, doesn’t it? My parents have been asking me when I’m going to take that step with you for a while now.”

His calm tone made the statement feel both casual and monumental at the same time. “Wait, your parents…?” you started, blinking as your brain processed this new information.

“Mhm,” Zayne replied, still holding your hand as though it was the most natural thing in the world. “They’ve been pretty vocal about it, actually. But I’ve been waiting for the right moment.”

The right moment. Those words hung in the air, and you could feel the weight of what he was saying. He was serious—calm and casual, as always, but serious. Your breath caught, and for a moment, the world around you seemed to fade into the background. It was just you and Zayne in that grocery aisle, hands linked, talking about a future you hadn’t even realized you both wanted.

“Only if you wanted to, of course,” he added, his thumb still tracing soft circles on your hand. “I wouldn’t do anything unless we both agreed.”

You stared at him, a smile slowly spreading across your face despite the initial shock. “You’re really suggesting this now? In the middle of a grocery store?”

Zayne smirked, his usual pragmatic self. “Well, we’re already talking about it. Might as well make use of the time.” He glanced down at your joined hands, his tone softening again. “Besides, I think it’s worth discussing what our future looks like, don’t you?”

Your heart swelled at his words, and the warmth of his hand in yours was enough to make you feel grounded, no matter how your emotions were spinning. “Yeah,” you said, smiling as you squeezed his hand gently. “I think it’s definitely worth talking about.”

Zayne leaned in closer, his lips brushing your temple in a rare public display of affection. “Good,” he murmured, his voice filled with a quiet kind of affection that made your chest tighten. “We’ll talk more later.”

He pulled away just as smoothly, picking up the cart with a practiced ease, as though he hadn’t just suggested the two of you start planning your future together. His eyes twinkled, a subtle tease hiding behind that usual calm exterior of his.

“And for the record,” he added, as the two of you moved on to the next aisle, “I wouldn’t mind hearing you call me ‘husband’ again.”

Your cheeks heated again, but this time, you didn’t bother trying to hide your smile. “Guess you’ll have to earn it first, doctor.”

Zayne chuckled softly, that familiar, grounded confidence in his voice. “I’ll be sure to work on that.”

SYLUS

The desert sun was relentless, and you could feel its heat pressing down on you as you stood beside Sylus, waiting to be seated inside the restaurant. He had dragged you out of Linkon on one of his mysterious ventures—no explanation, no warning, just the two of you thrust into the desert with little more than his cryptic directions. And while Sylus might have thrived in the N109 Zone's shadowy world, he was decidedly out of place here in the glaring sunlight,already starting to show hints of discomfort.

You glanced over at him, squinting slightly under the bright light. His expression was carefully controlled as always, but you noticed how his hand twitched subtly as if annoyed by the heat. The two of you had been waiting to be seated inside for a while now, and you decided it was time to speed things up.

Catching the attention of a passing waitress, you waved her over, putting on your best expression of concern. “Excuse me, my husband and I were hoping to be seated inside. I’m feeling a little faint under the harsh sun,” you said smoothly, the lie of you feeling faint rolling off your tongue with ease.

The word husband had slipped out so naturally, you didn’t even realize your mistake until the waitress nodded sympathetically and promised to get you a table indoors right away. As she walked off, you felt a cold gaze slide over you, and you turned to see Sylus staring down at you, one brow raised, a slow, dangerous smile creeping across his face.

“Husband?” His voice was smooth, but there was a teasing lilt beneath it. “Did I miss a wedding, wife?”

Your breath caught in your throat. "Wait—no, I didn't mean—" You started to stammer, heat rising to your cheeks, but before you could backtrack any further, Sylus’ arm slid around your waist, pulling you closer to his side. His grip was firm, possessive, and you could feel the smug amusement radiating off of him.

“I like the sound of that,” he murmured, leaning in just close enough for you to catch the scent of the desert air still clinging to his clothes. His lips ghosted near your ear, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. “Maybe this is a sign I should make it official.”

You swallowed hard, heart racing as you tried to keep your composure. “Official?” you echoed, your voice coming out a little more breathless than you intended. “What—what are you talking about?”

Sylus’ smirk widened, his amber eyes gleaming in the sun. “Oh? Cat got your tongue, Sweetie?” he teased, his tone dripping with amusement as he let his fingers trace a light circle on your hip. “You seemed so sure a moment ago, wife. But now? Speechless.”

You blinked, trying to gather your wits, but the sheer cockiness in his tone was making it hard to think straight. “I…I was just…helping us get a table,” you protested weakly, trying to pull away from his grip, but his hold only tightened.

“Oh, I’m sure you were,” he drawled, clearly reveling in your flustered state. “But now that you’ve set the bar so high, don’t tell me you’re going to back out on me. After all, you made quite the declaration back there.”

“I wasn’t—” You huffed, narrowing your eyes at him as you regained a sliver of your usual confidence. “You know it was a slip-up, Sylus. Don’t start getting ideas.”

He chuckled darkly, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. “Ideas? Sweetie, I live for ideas.” His grip loosened just enough to let you step back, but the way he looked at you made it clear he wasn’t about to let you wriggle out of this one easily. “But let’s be honest, you didn’t hate it. Calling me your husband.”

Your face flushed again, but this time, you managed to meet his gaze without faltering. “I didn’t hate it,” you admitted, folding your arms, “but don’t go thinking you’ve won. I’m not about to sign any papers just because you liked hearing it.”

Sylus tilted his head, the playful smile never leaving his lips. “We’ll see about that, kitten” he said, the threat—or promise—hanging in the air between you as the waitress returned to guide you inside.

You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach. “Please, Sylus. You couldn’t handle being married to me.”

He raised an eyebrow, leaning in with that infuriating smirk. “Oh, I think I could handle you just fine, sweetheart. You’re the one who might need to keep up.”

You shot back, “Keep up? I’d be carrying you the whole way.”

“Careful, Sweetie. That sounds an awful lot like a challenge.” He chuckled, his hand brushing against yours again. “Now that’s a tempting thought.”

“Tempting? Try exhausting,” you quipped.

As you walked beside him, you felt his arm brush against yours, and the sensation lingered far longer than it should have. Sylus, of course, said nothing, though the smug expression never quite left his face.

This was clearly far from over. And judging by the glint in his eye, Sylus was going to make sure you never forgot your little slip-up.

XAVIER

The café was quiet, filled with the soft murmur of patrons and the comforting smell of fresh pastries. You and Xavier had settled in for a peaceful afternoon, your table already adorned with a delightful array of treats. He had requested a simple drink—no whipped cream. The barista returned, placing his drink in front of him with an impressive mountain of whipped cream on top. Xavier, as calm and indifferent as ever, simply blinked at it, showing no signs of complaint. He wasn’t going to say a word about it, but that didn’t mean you were going to let it slide.

Excusing yourself, you raised a hand and called over a passing staff member. “Excuse me,” you began, with a polite smile. “My husband asked for no whipped cream on his drink, but it looks like there’s some here by mistake. Would it be alright for us to get it changed?”

The words tumbled out so smoothly that you didn’t even realize your slip-up until the staff member nodded apologetically and hurried back to fix the order. It was only when you turned back around that you saw Xavier sitting there, looking unusually... stunned.

He was blinking slowly at you, his expression softened by a hint of confusion and—was that amusement? “Husband?” he repeated, his soft voice barely more than a murmur.

Your face flushed as you fumbled for an explanation. “Oh, no, wait—! I didn’t mean—” You stammered, desperately trying to backtrack. “That just slipped out! I meant to say…uh my boyfriend? Partner? Date? Not—well, not husband, obviously…”

Xavier continued to blink, his face now showing just a little more expression than usual. The faintest curl of a smile played on his lips, and he tilted his head, considering your words. “I must’ve missed that chapter in the 'Guide to a Healthy Relationship,'” he said in that calm, unruffled way of his. “I didn’t know we’d moved on to the husband-and-wife stage.”

You groaned inwardly, burying your face in your hands. “I swear, it was an accident. Just ignore what I said.”

But Xavier was clearly in no mood to let it go. “So, dear wife,” he continued, completely unfazed by your protests, “do you think we’ll have matching mugs in our future? Maybe get a nice house, with a small garden and a picket fence?”

You shot him a playful glare, but the way he was looking at you made it impossible to stay annoyed. “Very funny,” you muttered, though your lips were twitching at the corners, betraying your amusement.

“I think it has a nice ring to it,” Xavier said, leaning back in his chair, clearly enjoying this far more than you expected. “I wonder how long it would take for people in the association to start sending us wedding gifts. Or perhaps they'd just send weapons... you know, as a gesture of goodwill.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “I don’t think wedding gifts are really their style, Xavier.”

“Hmm, you’re probably right,” he said thoughtfully, then leaned in slightly, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “But you did call me your husband in public. Shouldn’t we at least play the part now?”

Your cheeks were burning, but you couldn’t resist playing along with his ridiculousness. “Fine,” you said, crossing your arms and raising an eyebrow. “But just so you know, dear husband, you’ll be the one doing the dishes.”

Xavier chuckled softly, the sound rare and surprisingly warm. “As long as you take care of meals. A fair trade.”

You were about to retort when the waitress returned with Xavier’s newly corrected drink—this time, free of whipped cream. She set it down with a smile, glancing between the two of you as if she’d picked up on the playful atmosphere. “Here you go,” she said. “No whipped cream this time, sir.”

Xavier’s eyes glinted as he thanked her with a nod, and after she left, he looked back at you with a satisfied expression. “See? Husband perks,” he teased, taking a sip of his drink.

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t hide the smile spreading across your face. “You’re an idiot.”

“And you’re adorable when you’re flustered,” he said, the teasing lilt in his voice gentler now. He took your hand under the table, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “But... thank you,” he added after a beat, his voice softer and more sincere. “For speaking up for me.”

You blinked at him, momentarily thrown off by the gratitude in his tone. “Of course,” you said, squeezing his hand in return. “That’s what wives do, right?”

Xavier let out a soft laugh. “I suppose so,” he murmured, his lips quirking into a rare, genuine smile that made your heart skip a beat.

In that moment, with his hand in yours and the gentle teasing in the air, it was easy to forget the world outside the café. Just the two of you, playing pretend—but maybe, just maybe, something more.

AN: reblogs, feedback and opinions are appreciated!

[xoxojisu]

"WE'RE NOT DATING!"

synopsis: the 1a girls have a lot to say about you and katsuki's not-relationship.

a/n: hahahaha more pre-relationship just friends trope (do not tell me i do this trope too much it brings me joy) also a lot of people asked for a pt two to my unofficalbf!katsuki hcs and this isnt quiiiite that bc there's not a whole lotta interaction w katsuki but uhm its smth. i have more wips abt this tho so theres a LOTTT more where that came from!

"even if we don't talk about anything important, i want to force it to be about romance!" mina exclaimed as ochako floated off in embarrassment at being questioned about deku.

"oh! speaking of! how long have you and bakugo been dating, y/n?"

you froze. "huh?"

"i don't know how you handle him! you're so sweet and cute and he's all 'die! go to hell! i am the king explosion murder lord!' y'know?" she added.

"he's not really like that with her, though. he's always a lot quieter she's around. you can see the way his eyes soften." tsu commented thoughtfully.

they all stared at you expectantly, waiting for you to answer the question, and you could feel blood rushing to your cheeks. "uh.. katsuki and i.. aren't dating?"

a beat passed. then another.

"WHAT?!"

"no way! i thought you two were dating for sure! he's always holding your hand and grabbing at you and acting all soft with you! wait, i literally saw him carry you to his room! how are you not dating?" hagakure burst out.

"yeah! and during our movie night last week, you were laying your head on his shoulder and he had his arms around you!" mina chimed in. "we all just assumed you two were dating like a given! what do you mean, 'you're not dating?!'"

"i mean, we're not dating! we're close friends, sure, but katsuki's never, like, asked me to be his girlfriend or anything! we're just tight childhood friends, that's all! he probably thinks of me as a little sister with the way he looks out for me, or something." you explained, waving your hands in the air frantically.

"y/n, i love you, but you're being as stupid as kaminari! no boy, but especially not bakugo, would ever act like that with a girl he wasn't interested in." jirou sighed. "there really isn't such thing as 'platonic cuddling' or 'platonic handholding' between boys and girls."

"well, it's normal for kids, you know? and katsuki and i grew up together, so it just kinda stuck!" you said, making a noble attempt at justifying you and katsuki's we-are-definitely-not-just-friends behavior. they all looked at you unamused.

the girls continued to bombard you with questions, each one getting bolder than the last.

"seriously, though, y/n," mina said, her grin wide, "how do you keep it together around him? you two are always so… cozy."

"cozy?" you blinked, trying to avoid their intense stares. "what do you mean 'cozy'?"

"oh, come on," she teased, nudging you. "you hold hands, sit waaaay too close, and don’t even get me started on the whole ‘sleeping on and cuddling with him’ thing. also, i swear i saw him give you a kiss on the forehead!"

"i mean, that’s just how we are!" you said, exasperated. "we’ve been friends forever! it’s not a big deal!"

jirou raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. "i don’t know, y/n. most guys don’t carry their girl friends to their rooms when they’re tired."

you froze. the memories flashed in your mind, and you couldn’t help the nervous laugh that escaped your lips. "i told you, he was just being—"

"overprotective?" yaomomo interrupted, practically reading your mind. "yeah, that’s what we thought, too. but i don’t know, seems a little… extra for a friend."

you groaned, burying your face in your hands. “this is ridiculous. we’re not dating! he’s not like that with me.”

they all stared at you for a long moment, clearly unconvinced, when suddenly, the door to the room swung open.

katsuki stood in the doorway, his signature scowl immediately visible, with kirishima and kaminari not far behind. "..what the hell are you all looking like that at me for? you got a problem?"

the girls didn’t miss a beat. mina jumped up, eyes practically sparkling. "we were just discussing how you and a certain girl over here are totally a secret item!"

you froze. oh no.

katsuki's eyes widened then narrowed as he stared at her, his eyes a mixture of grumpiness and fluster. "the hell?" was all he said.

“you’re always carrying her, holding hands, and let’s not forget you cuddling with her sleeping on you during that movie last week. with how comfortable you guys were with it, i'll bet it was far from the first time you guys have done stuff like that, too! you two are practically made for each other!”

katsuki glared at her, his fists clenching. "i don’t give a shit what you idiots think." his voice was sharp, dismissive, and he turned his gaze toward you for a moment, his usual annoyance evident.

you let out a nervous laugh, relieved that he wasn’t actually acknowledging any of the weird feelings the group was pushing on you two.

the girls looked between you and katsuki, still skeptical, but he wasn’t having it. he gave a quick, sharp glare to the group before glancing back at you. you failed to see the way his sharp glare softened ever-so-slightly when he did so.

“you’re all so damn nosy,” he muttered, turning to leave. "get a life."

he marched off grumpily, kirishima and kaminari now excitedly talking to him about assumedly the same topic. he slammed the door in their faces, but they were quick to scramble after him.

you let out a sigh of relief once they left, but before you could even speak, mina burst into laughter. "there it is! classic bakugo. totally in denial!"

"totally!" ochako giggled.

"mhm!" hagakure agreed.

"ugh," you groaned, face in your hands. "please just drop it already!"

the girls kept their grins, but the teasing finally slowed down. "alright, alright," mina said with a wink. "we’ll let you off the hook for now."

you exhaled in relief as the group slowly started to branch off into different topics, the heat finally off of you. you excused yourself for some water so you could get some air, and began heading back to the dorm rooms.

to your surprise, katsuki was already waiting for you outside the common area. when he saw you, he gave you a gruff nod of acknowledgement.

"kats! i thought you were going to bed!" you chirped, unaware of how your demeanor instantly brightened when it was just the two of you.

"i am," was all he offered before grabbing your hand and dragging you to presumably his dorm room to cuddle and hangout.

as you rambled and chatted with katsuki, hand-in-hand, on your way to hang out in his dorm alone, the words of your friends came back to you, causing a pink hue to rise to your cheeks.

..yeah. you two were definitely not "just friends."