#he is my favorite character in anything ever

[berrryparfait]

sex pollen ❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

— ༉‧₊ᐟ featuring: zayne, xavier, sylus, caleb, rafayel x fem-afab!reader

— ༉‧₊ᐟ premise: spring is here, and the "thorny" flower is in season. beware, unsuspecting farm visitor, lest you inhale the evil flower's pollen and fall victim to its whims... 「this urge... i can't resist it anymore—!」

— ༉‧₊ᐟ tags/cws: [nsfw] pure smut, literal sex pollen; "spontaneous and urgent need to have sex", piv, creampie, intense orgasms, dubcon, characters are not dating nor have they ever f*cked before (frenemies)

— ♫₊ᐟ soundtrack: pelican town (from the stardew valley soundtrack)

✧ a/n: was the stardew valley soundtrack too unhinged or... anywaysss sex pollen is one of my all-time favorite tropes ever so here's my take on it <3

Sure, he might not be your favorite person in the world, but just for today, you're content with being acquaintances. For what it’s worth, if there’s anything worse than spending a whole day with your begrudging frenemy, it’s losing.

The annual Spring Corn-Picking Festival has begun, and you’ve been paired up with him. Can you put your differences aside and put your skills to the test? Or is there something else—something sinister—lurking beneath the surface, waiting to strike?

The “thorny” flower is in bloom, and no one is safe…

“Follow my lead if you want to win. I did my research, so I know where all the best spots are.” He parts the thick maize, making way for the both of you to trudge through the field. You roll your eyes at his predictable arrogance. “Please. I used to live on a farm. I know my way around—” You trip on a small rock and stumble into his back. He barely even glances at you. “Be quiet if you don’t want to sabotage our mission.” Rude. “Hey, there’s some up there.” You both dart towards the bunch of ripe corn a few feet away, no longer weary and complacent. Placing his basket on the ground, he begins to expertly pluck the corn from their stalks, intense concentration written all over his face.

All of a sudden, a strange smell hijacks your nostrils. “Do you smell that?” He grimaces and looks around, apparently sensing it too. It’s…strange. Foreign. Not entirely unpleasant. The flesh between your legs throbs. Why do I feel…? Your eyes lock with Zayne’s, then travel down to his groin. He’s hard. It takes him two seconds to close the distance between you. “Zayne, what’s going on—” He yanks your overalls down and grasps at your breasts, the expression on his reddened face absolutely feral. “I-I don’t know—” he stammers, still smearing his hands all over your plump chest. “But I can’t stop…” He pulls your panties down in one fell swoop to find you already dripping wet. His pupils dilate at the sight, and his hands automatically move to undo his belt. It doesn’t take long for him to free his erection, which is so large by now you almost feel bad for him. “Wait, we’re in a corn field—” Your words are abruptly cut off by him spinning you around and plunging his cock between your folds, and you have to cling to the sturdy stalks to prevent yourself from falling over. A hand goes over your mouth to conceal your surprised moans. He has you bent over in front of him, back arching against his dick as he thrusts into you and curses under his breath. I don’t like you! You don’t like me! Why does this feel so good?! “Fuck— I can’t stop—” His groans are strangled and pained, his hips moving so fast the field around you blurs into a mess of pale green and yellow. Expletives escape his lips as he slams into you so hard you both come undone, his hot, thick cum filling you up and dripping down your legs as you spasm and shake under his grip. You’re panting. He looks like he can’t even breathe. “What the fuck was that, Zayne?!” you scream at him, flustered and so utterly confused. “It’s that damn flower… Fuck. I’m sorry.” You pull your overalls back up and shake your head, unsure how to feel about all of this. “Let me make it up to you��� Dinner. Tonight.” Tiny butterflies drift into the field.

“Would you quit micromanaging?” He glares at you before turning back to the corn, both hands wrapped around its plush kernels. “I’m just saying, twisting it out might be faster.” Always pouting, always bickering. It’s the only thing you two ever do. You’ve never denied that it bothers you, the way he acts as if you’re beneath him. “If you’re so confident, you do it.” You take the bait and push past him, sandwiching yourself between him and the stubborn stalk of corn. A smug grin plays at his lips when you fail to pull—no, twist—it out, his arms crossed over his chest.

Xavier sneezes. He brushes it off as a one-time thing at first, but then he sneezes again. Hay fever? he thinks to himself. Suddenly, the image of you working your hands around the cob of corn—squeezing and pulling at its base—is too much for him to bear. He’s imagining his dick in its place. You don’t realize it at first, but you’re getting wet. You feel the abrupt, inexplicable need to grind against something. Anything. All at once, you push Xavier to the ground and sit down on top of him. “Do you feel that?” you whisper between gasps, the pool of need between your legs growing by the second. He nods breathlessly, uncertain, but wanting all the same. Your hips involuntarily roll against his, and you both suppress a moan. The next thing you know, you’re grinding against his rock-hard cock and relishing the sounds of his tortured groans. “I’m—so horny—right now—” His voice is fried, needy. You lift the skirt of your dress and pull your panties to the side, clearly sopping wet. His jeans are unzipped. In what seems like an unimaginable moment, you’re bouncing on his dick and screaming out in pleasure. Why does he…feel so good… Your thoughts are a mess, part confusion and part unbridled lust. The way he rubs against your walls, jerks upwards to meet your thrusts, whimpers like a man starved—it’s everything you never knew you needed. You roll your hips at just the right angle, and he gets impossibly bigger before shooting warm spurts of cum into your cervix, his thighs clenching underneath yours as the most intense orgasms both of you have ever had crash over your joint bodies. You roll over to lie down beside him, still in shock. “W-What was that?!” He turns to look at you and gently tucks a strand of hair behind your ear—ironic, considering your entire head’s a complete mess. “I didn’t know you had that in you. You didn’t even kiss me.”

“Perhaps we’d get there more quickly if you stopped whining,” he jabs, already five feet ahead of you. His demeanor remains cool and composed, yet frustration simmers beneath the surface, visible only to those who know the enigma of a man well enough. Unfortunately, “those” includes you. “I just can’t believe I’m stuck here with you. Of all people.” Without looking back, he replies, “Are you sure this isn’t your desire for me speaking? Because judging by the way you were eyeing me just now…” You huff at his ridiculous statement. “Ha! You wish. Sleeping with you is the last thing I’d ever want, so keep dreaming, buckaroo.”

You don’t hear his reply. A sharp, almost sweet scent attacks your senses, conquering your mind almost instantly. You sway amongst the stalks of grass, trying to make sense of the sudden urge you’re feeling—the urge to bury Sylus’ dick between your legs. I hate him I hate him I hate him— Your hands reach out to grab him before you can stop them, and he spins around abruptly to gently push you away. “Having a change of mind?” He means the question as a joke, but the sound of his gravelly, seductive voice only intensifies the throbbing in your cunt. “Shut up and fuck me,” you spit, fully convinced you’ve gone insane. But he doesn’t object. The cocky grin vanishes from his face as he unbuckles his belt and pulls his pants down, apparently devoted to the task. His underwear is still on by the time he’s lying on top of you, pupils dilated and erection rock solid. Overcome, he dry-humps your clit for a whole minute, the pressure so rewarding that he can’t bring himself to remove his boxers. “Fuck, baby— What are you doing to me?” He hisses when you yank them down yourself, eager to bury his cock deep inside you. No time is wasted. In a single thrust of his hips, he’s plunging all the way into you, so big you cry out in delicious pain. Your hips move in tandem with his, mud covering your back and seeping into your hair—but you couldn’t care less. His length is pumping in and out of you so hard your eyes roll to the back of your head, and distantly you wonder how long you’ve secretly needed—wanted—this. He grunts with each jerk, wet squelches filling the air as the strawberry-picking competition is forgotten, sweet release the only thing on his mind. A stutter—a falter, and he erupts, his thick seed coating your walls and seeping out of your pussy. You both fall silent as the pleasure consumes your bodies, so good your eyes squeeze shut and your throat goes completely dry. “I’m…a mess…” you mutter between pants, pushing him off of you. “Who wants to sleep with who now?” He shoves his pants back on and—blushes?! “It must’ve been that flower. Though… It’s worth mentioning that I’m immune.”

“Alright, let’s hurry up and get this over with.” He doesn’t seem thrilled to be wading through a cornfield with the likes of you, one of his childhood tormentors. Well, he’d tormented you back, of course—middle school turf wars were no joke. You both grew up and learned to tame your reactions a little, but some things never change. The fact that you’re still stuck in the same small town with him, for instance. “After all these years, Caleb is still a jackass,” you quip, already making your way towards a ripe bunch of corn. “You’re just jealous I never dated you.”

The wind blows, and you scrunch your nose at the scent it carries. “Shh— Do you smell that?” His eyes go wide as realization hits, and he rushes to cover your nose and mouth with his hands. “It’s that devil flower that spews aphrodisiacal pollen. Don’t. Breathe.” His expression is grim as he clamps his mouth shut, but he’s already starting to squirm. A small pit of arousal emerges in your core, but he’s clearly having a harder time than you are, the outline of his hard cock visible through his trousers. “Caleb…?” you ask tentatively as his hands slide away from your face, flexing indecisively before reaching towards you. “Caleb, wait a second—” He’s on his knees, pulling your shorts and panties down. Oh my god, this can’t be happening— You gasp as his tongue glides against your clit, the simple movement leaving you wanting more. Your hips grind against his face as you moan his name, lost in the lovely vibrations of his own groans of pleasure. “Get on the ground.” His tone leaves little room for debate. You lie flat on the soil, back towards the sky, and turn to look at him over your shoulder. His dick is out, precum coating the tip as it beelines straight for your inviting cunt. Pure bliss overcomes your system when he first glides in, your walls instantly slickening in response. He pounds into you from behind, his whimpers mingling with yours as you’re swept away by the feeling of finally having Caleb inside you. It’s surreal—ten years ago you would’ve laughed at the thought. Now your mouth hangs open for different reasons. “Faster, Caleb—” you squeak, desperate to reach your climax. He drives into you, clenching hard before he drenches your pussy, a steady stream of cum dripping down onto the soil below. “Holy fuck… I’m sorry…” he whispers, getting up to put his pants back on. An unexpected wave of laughter hits as you recover from the aftershocks of your orgasm, your body sated and…comfortable. “Don’t you dare blame this on the pollen.” He sighs wearily and smiles. “I’m not.”

“If we don’t win, I’m blaming it on you.” Great. This detour was all your fault. You can’t believe this guy. First, he makes no effort to help with navigation. Next, he decides that if anything goes wrong, you’re to blame? Sweet crackers, he’s the most insufferable fool you’ve ever met. Sure, he’s charming—the old ladies back at the farm couldn’t have made it clearer—but you don’t get to have a competitive streak when you’re not the one doing the streaking. Seriously, he’s slow as hell. “Stop talking and walk.”

“There’s something in the air,” he remarks, squinting. It’s the first time he’s paid attention to anything today, so you hear him out and begin sniffing your surroundings. You detect nothing and call him a big baby, resuming your search for corn. “I’m being serious! I swear it’s doing something to me…” He turns away then, so hastily your suspicions are raised. “J-Just gimme a sec!” he calls over his shoulder, “Lemme take care of something real quick—” You turn back around, tired of his antics, but a barely concealed groan stops you dead in your tracks. He’s jerking off in broad daylight, his head thrown back in relief. “Rafayel, what the f—” You feel it then, the throbbing ache in your pussy, and suddenly his presence no longer annoys you. You inch towards him, eyeing his hard cock as he pumps it with his fist. At the sight of you staring up at him with a strange, unabashed lust, his thighs clench and he moans your name, the sound of it on his lips sending waves of arousal down to your core. You push him down by the shoulders so he’s sitting upright on the ground, dick so hard it looks miserable. “Bounce on it,” he orders. In the span of two seconds, your panties are pushed to the side and your cunt is enveloping his cock. You’re so full, so dirty with him between your legs—Does it feel better to fuck someone you pretend to hate? His thumbs bruise your hips as you keep your pace, bouncing on his lap like your life depends on it, his tip crushing against your cervix the only thing on your mind. “Fuck, fuck, fuck—” he breathes before pumping his fresh cum into your pussy, your combined cries of pleasure so loud a neighboring flock of birds takes flight. Defeated, you lean against him in his lap, still shaking with desire. His hand goes up to rest on your head, his touch surprisingly tender. “I’ve been waiting all year for that.”

— ⋆˙⟡ ©berrryparfait

《 please do not copy / plagiarize / translate my works or publish them on any other platforms. 》

[thisflagmeanseverything]

Hello! I wasn't tagged but I love spreading positivity!! This is mostly OFMD but I want to send to all fandoms! (This is on my OFMD blog but for anyone)

1. The creativity of my fandom is amazing, there's lots of positivity, I met some of my favorite people through it. Also that it's still so active! And that we raised LIKE 80,000 DOLLARS FOR TRANS YOUTH? Like?!?!?

2. A headcanon I wasn't sure I liked at first was the idea of (honestly idk I will come back to this)

3. This is tough cause I love every single character. I guess the fandom just helped me love the characters more.

4. I love seeing people ship Fang with anyone, he's such a lovely character

5. I see a lot of people write about Stede leaving and coming back. I love how this event is written in different ways that never has it be boring despite having the same core beat.

6. I love seeing Mermaid Stede because it's such an important symbol

7. Second chance/friends to lovers trope

8. I hope more people come to appreciate Fang, he's a sweetie pie.

9. I enjoy all the other couples; Lucius and Pete, Garlic Soup, etc. Anything with Fangy.

10. All of the OFMD blogs I follow. Especially those I followed 2022-2024, they help me feel like there was a community here. If I had to only chose one tho, I would say @gentlebeardsbarngrill Abby ily ❤️

11. I'm proud of the Dracula fic I helped my friend make.

12. Wow it's hard to chose just one, I love all my people. Today I will compliment @thescarvedinsect on their awesomeness and friendliness. They have always made an effort to reach out to me on several different platforms

13. I love the Big Bang events! So many things to read and so many pretty pictures! I loveee seeing all the time and effort that people still put into our fandom and our boys.

14.Ed and Stede, of course. They always make me smile and feel better

15. Fang 💕

16. The way Ed grasps Stede's hand when he's down in the hold. It means so much to me and i totally melted the first time I saw that. ALSO Pete's saying about "you talk all the time how you almost died. But not that you lived" 😭

17. Its very hard to chose just one! I guess today I'll say.....the Sammy scene where Stede throws the sandwich and it hits Lucius. You can see Nathan crack.

18. #ourflagmeansdeath

19. Actively: Our flag means death, Psych cause I accidentally started a rewatch, Bollywood movies now apparently. Helluva Boss/Hazbin Hotel. Still in the fandoms but not as active: Haven, Warehouse 13. Once upon a Time. Doctor Who! Still into Sailor Moon. I know there are more but idk at the moment.

20. My first fandom was CSI. The original. FOREVER a Sandles girlie 🤗

21. Sherlock. Took up a good portion of my college years lol

22. My friend from England. We met on RuneScape and went from there, they were with me through all the fandoms . I think one of the first persons from OFMD to ever follow me and then I followed back was @jellybeanium124 ! And the first person when I came back to Tumblr was @jelly-of-many-ships 🤗

23. Everyone!

24. The current fandom I am in allowed me to find a piece of community I was sorely lacking. Not only did I find an online community but it's also led to an irl community. Because of this show I met my favorite people! I also got to go to Galaxycon with fandom friends! Like @captain-charlemagne ❤️ And I met some people near me who are in this fandom and had a chance to go out and be active again.

25. Not everyone will agree with your thoughts and feelings and headcanons about characters. And that's okay! Fandom is suppose to be a space for love of these characters and it's fun to share how you view them! But it's not worth attacking others; there are real life humans attached to these screen names seen everyday: the people in fandoms have real feelings, triggers, and feel real hurt when they are yelled at/attacked/etc. The way I've survived and thrived is by remembering this and acknowledging that not everyone feels the same and to not take their words personally.

tagging with no pressure: @gentlebeardsbarngrill @stedesbonnets @lunarcryptidz @dontyoulistentome @celluloidbroomcloset @greentea-and-cookies @xray-vex @crimson-phantom-designs @indigos-stuff @critterofthenight @blatterpussbunnyfromhell @virginiaisforhaters @buckley118 @shockingblankets @follows-the-bees @scribophile @xoxoemynn @crimson-and-clover-1717 @teeny-tiny-revenge

and like literally everyone else I follow/follows me/moots/people who stumble onto this! I think you all rock!!

✨ love your fandom asks ✨ 

Saw the opposite of this floating around and thought the reverse might be fun.

list 3 positive things about your current fandom(s)

a headcanon you weren't sure about at first but have come to like!

a character that fandom has helped you appreciate

say something nice about a ship you don't ship (it can be another ship in your fandom, a mutual's OTP, etc)

something you see in fics a lot and love

something you see in art a lot and love

your favorite tropes to read/write/draw

you hope more people will come to appreciate ___ (a ship, a trope, an episode, etc)

a ship that isn't your OTP but that you enjoy

a blog (mutual or one you follow) that has made your fandom experience brighter

if you're a writer or artist, what fic or piece of art are you proud of making?

compliment someone else in your fandom

your favorite type of fandom event (gift exchange, ship week, secret santa, prompt meme, etc)

the ship that always makes you smile

the character that always makes you smile

a tiny detail in canon that you want more people to appreciate

the thing in canon that everyone loves and that you also love

a fandom tag that you track

your current fandom(s)

your very first fandom!

a fandom you're not active in anymore but that you still really like

the fandom friend you've known the longest

the fandom you're curious about because of a mutual

how has fandom positively impacted your life?

a piece of advice for taking care of yourself in fandom spaces

[luv-lock]

ㅤֹㅤ⊹ㅤ #ㅤLOVE MY BODYㅤ.ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

☆⁠ PAIRING : Batboys x Fem Reader

☆⁠ HEADCANON : The Most Basic Question. Tits, Ass Or Thighs?

☆⁠ CHARACTERS : Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Damian Wayne, Terry McGinnis, Male Barbara Gordon, Male Cassandra Cain, Male Stephanie Brown.

☆⁠ NOTES : There are some +18 parts. English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

— BRUCE WAYNE ⋆

Tits. 100%. Classy.

You catch his eyes dipping to your chest mid-conversation. Doesn’t matter what you’re wearing—a tight dress, his button-down shirt, or even just a tank top and pajama pants—he’s looking. Bruce is an ass man in public, a thigh man in theory, but when it comes down to it? He worships your tits in private like they’re sculpted by gods.

He's the type to wrap a diamond necklace around your neck, only to trail it slowly down between your breasts, eyes hooded, voice gravelly:

“You have no idea how hard it is to focus when you look like this.”

Loves sucking on them when he’s stressed. Burying his face in your chest when he gets home late. One hand palming your breast while the other types on the Batcomputer like nothing's wrong. He’s obsessed in that quiet and unrelenting way. The way a storm looms on the horizon. Cold fingers sliding under your bra while you’re trying to talk about something innocent.

And when he’s really in the mood? He’ll sit you in his lap, kiss down your chest like it’s the last thing he’ll ever taste, and say with that low rasp:

“These are mine. You know that, right?”

— DICK GRAYSON ⋆

Ass. Without shame.

Dick is an ass man to his core. It’s not even a debate. He’s the type to openly admire it in the mirror while you’re getting dressed. The kind who walks by and gives you a casual, playful slap that’s way too possessive to be innocent.

His hands naturally find your hips, always pulling you closer until your butt’s flush against him. He’s the type to lay on the couch with you on top of him, hands running down your sides just to grip your ass like it's his anchor.

“God, babe… you’re killing me. You seriously expect me to behave when you’re walking around looking like that?”

When you bend over—even slightly—it’s over for him. He gets feral. He’ll pause mid-sentence just to gawk. Like a golden retriever seeing food.

Dick’s favorite position? Anything where he can grip, spread, and praise that ass like it’s the eighth wonder of the world. He’ll smack it, groan like a sinner in church, and whisper against your skin:

“You’ve got the best ass in Gotham, baby. Don’t even argue.”

— JASON TODD ⋆

Thighs. The Sinner’s Choice.

Jason is a thigh man and you know he is. It’s the way his gaze lingers when you’re sitting with your legs crossed. The way he kisses your inner thighs for way too long before doing anything else. The way he grips them like a man starved.

Big hands squeezing your thighs while you're straddling him? That’s his therapy. That’s his church.

He especially loves when you wear thigh-highs or those tiny shorts you think he didn’t notice. You’ll catch him staring, jaw clenched, knuckles white, and five minutes later he’s on his knees, spreading your legs, murmuring,

“You really gonna tease me like that, baby? After everything I’ve done for you?”

Jason doesn’t even try to hide it. He’ll rest his head on your lap and just inhale you like your thighs are made of heaven. Obsessed with hickeys on your inner thighs—territorial and tender at the same time. And when he's feeling really possessive?

“No one gets to touch these but me. Say it.”

— DAMIAN WAYNE ⋆

Tits & Thighs, but he lies and says it’s your mind.

Damian acts like he’s above it. That he’s too focused, too honorable, too disciplined to be distracted by something so carnal.

But the second you stretch, yawn, or lie on your stomach in one of his shirts? His eyes zero in like a falcon on prey.

He’ll never say it out loud, but he’s a tits and thigh man. Dual weakness. He worships your body with that intense, reverent devotion that makes your heart race. He doesn’t just look—he memorizes. The curve of your thighs when you're asleep, the weight of your chest in his hands, how your nipples react to his touch. He's studious and unrelenting.

When you ask him directly?

“What do you like most about me?”

He’ll narrow his eyes, smirk like the smug bitch he is, and reply,

“Your intelligence, obviously.”

All while his hand is halfway up your thigh and his other is resting on your chest.

He kisses your thighs like he's pledging allegiance, palms your breasts like he’s claiming a throne. In private he’s downright filthy. He’ll pull you into his lap, growl in your ear in Arabic, and say with absolute finality:

“You are mine. Every inch of you. And I will never tire of you.”

— TERRY MCGINNIS ⋆

Ass. But he tries to pretend he's not down bad.

Terry thinks he’s slick. Thinks he’s keeping it cool. The boy grew up in Neo-Gotham, wears a skintight Batsuit, flirts like he’s Bruce Wayne himself—but he’s not fooling anyone.

He’s an ass man through and through.

You’ll catch him staring when you walk away. You’ll feel his hand ghost over your lower back during hugs, just low enough to be suggestive. And when you call him out, he’ll smirk like he’s innocent.

“What? Just admiring my girl. Can’t a man appreciate fine art?”

Terry likes bending you over his bike, holding you tight against his chest with a hand planted firmly on your backside. Night flights? Always an excuse to touch. Back home? He’s got your ass in both hands, eyes glazed over like it’s the cure to every bad day.

But the filthiest part? He talks during. Low, breathy praise in your ear:

“All mine. You know that, right? Nobody else gets to see you like this. Nobody touches what belongs to me.”

— BARRY GORDON ⋆

Thighs. Gentleman. Pervert. Dangerous combo.

Barry looks like a soft, calm man. Wheelchair-bound, polite, smiling, with warm hands and careful eyes.

But beneath that? He’s got the mind of a freak and a thigh fixation that runs deep.

It’s all about control for Barry—the way your thighs twitch when he kisses the inside, the way you squirm when he goes slow. His hands are always on your legs. Stroking them, gripping them, resting possessively over your knees in public like a silent claim.

“You're always so tense, sweetheart. Let me take care of you.”

He has a special seat adjustment in his chair so you can straddle him when he pulls you into his lap. There’s something sinful about the way he kisses your thigh with adoration, then bites like he’s claiming you inch by inch.

And when you wear short skirts around him? You’re not leaving the house without a long, lingering stare and:

“Don’t test me. I may not walk—but I’ll drag you back to bed.”

— CASSIAN CAIN ⋆

Tits. Doesn’t understand why he’s obsessed. Just is.

Cassian doesn’t speak a lot. He expresses himself with action. Touch, breath, the sound of a soft grunt in your neck.

But the one thing that makes him visibly weak?

Your tits.

He gets flustered when you’re in anything low-cut. His eyes dip without meaning to, jaw tightening like he’s mad at himself for looking—but he can’t stop. He likes resting his head there. Likes the feel of you against him. The way you fit in his lap, soft and warm and everything he doesn’t think he deserves.

But don’t mistake his silence for innocence. Cassian touches you like he’s memorizing. Like your breasts are sacred, fragile, and sinful all at once.

kiss, kiss, press his cheek to them, breathe hard—groan like a sinner breaking.

He’ll get rough sometimes—biting, sucking, marking—but afterward, he looks at you like he’s ashamed of how much he needs you. Like he’s afraid he’ll ruin you just by loving you too hard.

You tell him you like it, and he just nods. No words. Just pulls you to him again and palms your tits with reverent, desperate hands.

— STEPHEN BROWN ⋆

Ass & Tits. Greedy.

Stephen is energetic in the sheets. The type to laugh mid-makeout, worship you like a goddess, and never stop touching you. But if he had to pick?

“Ass. No, wait—tits. Shit. Can I pick both? Please? Come on, don’t make me suffer.”

He’ll literally spin you around in his hands, grabbing your ass, motorboating your chest, moaning like you just gave him a million bucks. Every moment with him is hands-on, mouth-on, needy.

He’s the one smacking your butt in the kitchen, squeezing your tits while you brush your teeth, throwing himself into your lap like he deserves it all.

“You’re so hot, babe, I could write poetry about your curves. Limericks. Whole damn musicals.”

Stephen’s a playful lover, but when he gets serious? He gets serious. Pushes you against the wall, whispers in your ear with a trembling voice:

“No one’s ever gonna touch you like this. I’ll kill them. You get that, right?”

Then immediately follows it with, “Also, your tits are amazing. Just saying.”

— MASTERLIST ☆

— © luv-lock. Don't copy, use or translate any of my works here or any other websites ☆

[s0urw00lf]

𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐧’ 𝐲𝐨𝐮

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐁𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐲𝐨𝐮 ��𝐫𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐁𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐏𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬𝐧’𝐭 𝐛𝐮𝐝𝐠𝐞, 𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐢𝐦

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐞

𝐀𝐍: 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨 @fandom-princess-forevermore 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐩𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐚. 𝐈 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐦 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐠𝐢𝐜 𝐛𝐜 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐢 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐚 𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭. 𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐢𝐝 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐦.

Masterlist

“Come on buck, i promise you’ll like it its one of my favorite books” you pleaded to him for the third time this week. Bucky had regrettably let it slip that he’d read the hobbit before and ever since then you’d been begging him to read Harry Potter.

You knew it’d take a lot of convincing to get Bucky to actually read something you recommended, but you hadn’t been prepared for how stubborn he’d be about it. Bucky glanced at the book you were holding out to him, not showing any kind of interest in it. Bucky looked at you still not convinced, “doll I’m not gonna read a book about a magic school, it’s not even realistic.” He said.

You gave him a look “you literally fought along side gods, aliens, wizards, and a crime fighting bug; two actually, but a school for magic is unbelievable?” You ask incredibly. You had a good point, Bucky knew that but he’d already said ‘no’ and he didn’t feel like seeing your smug smile when he read it and actually enjoyed it. But his expression told you he was still not budging.

You threw your head back with a groan, “oh come on buck, i swear it’s almost as good as the hob-“ you cut yourself off as an idea popped into your head. And Bucky saw it, the look and blew for you could even say anything “nope” he shook his head, you gave him an offended look “you didn’t even hear what i was gonna say” you defended.

He shook his head again “doesn’t matter answered no” he stood from the couch grabbing his mug and walking into the kitchen to pour himself some more coffee, you followed after “babe just hear me out please” you pleaded, at this point ready to fall to your knees. He poured the still warm coffee into his cup and turned towards tou looking defeated. “Fine tell me” he said. A smile spread on your face “what if… what if i read i to you-“ “no doll” he cut yourself off now walking back out of the kitchen. You threw your head back “oh come on buck now you’re just being stubborn” you said before following him.

“Im being just as stubborn as you honey” he defended lightly. You rolled your eyes with a sigh. “Why dont i just read you the first chapter, you can sit still long enough. And if you like it I’ll keep reading.” You tried again. “If i dont?” He asked. You sighed “if you don’t ill stop asking”

Bucky went quiet for a moment, as if weighing hour his options before he answered “okay first chapter and we’ll see from there” he finally gave in. You stood excitedly rushing to your shared bedroom to grab the first book, Bucky watched with hidden amusement at how excited mundane things such as reading to him made you. You returned with the book and a huge smile on your face, plopping down next to him before opening the book. “Okay. Chapter one, the boy who lived”-

Bucky listened to the soothing sound of your voice, imitating how you think the characters sound and it somehow made his heart clench. He never thought he’d be able to do things like this after leaving hydra. But god was he grateful he could especially with you. He watched hoe a smile spread on your face as you read your favorite parts or how you’d frown whenever dursleys were mentioned.

Before he knew it the first chapter was over and you were looking at him with an expectant look, wondering how he felt about it. He rolled his eyes playfully “i liked it” he said. You smiled widely “so i can keep going?” You asked hopefully. ‘Please do’ was what he wanted to say but he settled for a simple “yeah doll”. You smiled even wider and repositioned yourself so that your head was in his lap, and kept reading. He knew he was in for it when the book was over and he actually admitted he’d want to read the next book as long as you read to him. But he didn’t care, he wanted to make more memories like these.

Here at home, on his couch drinking coffee with the love of his life in his lap reading to him about a boy in a magic school.

[kpop-reactions-povs]

Stray kids- Pregnant wife insists on keeping her independence

⸻

Bang Chan

Chan understands independence — it’s part of what he loves about you. But the first time he finds you on a step stool trying to clean a cabinet at 7 months pregnant, his heart drops.

“Babe,” he says quietly, taking you by the waist. “What are you doing?”

“I just wanted to get it done before you got home—”

“No,” he breathes, voice shaking slightly. “I can’t let you do things that put you or our baby at risk. Please.”

You start to argue, but he cups your face. “I know you’re strong. But part of being strong is letting someone help. And I need you to let me help. It’s all I ever wanna do.”

⸻

Lee Know

Minho gets passive-aggressively soft. Not angry — just… overly helpful.

You reach for a bag. He’s already taking it from your hands.

You start sweeping. He appears with the vacuum.

Finally, you snap, “I can still do things!”

He blinks. “And I’m still going to stop you.”

You huff. “You’re so annoying.”

He leans in, smirking, “You’re carrying my kid. That means you’ve been upgraded to queen status. Queens don’t mop floors.”

He pulls you into his chest. “Let me take care of you. You already do everything else.”

⸻

Changbin

Changbin sees you carrying groceries and immediately rushes over.

“You should’ve called me!”

“It was just a few things,” you say, brushing him off.

“Still too much for my precious girl and my baby,” he pouts, unloading the bags.

Later, he sits you down and gently cups your hands. “I know you want to be independent. I love that about you. But when it comes to your safety? I won’t ever be chill. I just won’t.”

He kisses your knuckles. “Let me spoil you. Please.”

⸻

Hyunjin

Hyunjin is half dramatic, half whipped. He catches you on your knees scrubbing the floor and gasps like it’s the end of the world.

“WHAT are you doing?”

“Cleaning!”

“You’re pregnant, not Cinderella!”

You laugh, but he’s dead serious. He pulls you up and sits you on the couch.

“I admire your fire,” he says, brushing your hair behind your ear. “But I need you to save your energy for growing our baby, not fighting the dust bunnies.”

From then on, he makes every task a joint effort — chore time becomes cuddle breaks, cleaning turns into dancing, and you never scrub floors alone again.

⸻

Han

Han is a mess. He walks in on you lifting a box and goes full panic mode.

“NOPE. Nope nope nope.”

“Jisung, chill.”

“You’re not a forklift! You’re growing a baby! That’s your only job now!”

He takes over, still muttering under his breath like a cartoon character. Later that night, he apologizes, arms around you.

“I know I overreact. But I just… I love you so much, I can’t take any risks. I need you both safe.”

You kiss his cheek, and he melts.

“I’ll try not to panic next time,” he says, “but you gotta let me help sometimes too, okay?”

⸻

Felix

Felix is the softest. He sees you doing something — anything — and gently pulls you away without a word.

You frown. “I was fine.”

“I know,” he says, brushing his nose against yours. “But why do things alone when I want to do them with you?”

You start to protest, and he smiles. “You’re the strongest person I know. But strong people still deserve rest. And you, my angel, deserve the world.”

That night, he makes your favorite meal, rubs your feet, and whispers, “You’ve done enough. Let me take care of you now.”

( Felix without makeup 🔛🔝)

Seungmin

Seungmin pretends to be chill. Until he catches you lifting a full laundry basket.

“Oh? So we’re carrying bricks now?”

You roll your eyes. “It’s laundry.”

He takes it from you anyway, giving you the look. “You can glare all you want. You’re banned from lifting anything that’s not a fork or a baby name list.”

Later, when you’re snuggled in bed, he rubs your back and says, “I know you don’t want to feel useless. But to me? You’re doing the most important job in the world. Let me do the rest.”

I.N (Jeongin)

Jeongin doesn’t fight you. He outsmarts you.

“Oh, you’re going to mop? Cool. I already did it.”

“You were going to vacuum? Done.”

“You wanted to walk to the store? Too bad. I already ordered snacks.”

Eventually, you call him out. “Stop babying me!”

He pauses, then cups your cheeks. “I’m not babying you. I’m loving you. And our baby. And this whole little life we’re building.”

He kisses your forehead. “Let me do it all, just for a little while. You’ve done enough.”

[itsgiovanna]

playing for love (chapter 9)

pairing: fem!character x mason mount

summary: injured and lost, mason mount begins his recovery with the help of adeline alderidge, a tough yet brilliant physiotherapist with secrets of her own. he becomes determined to break through the walls adeline has built around herself. but some wounds don't heal easily, and the closer they get, the more mason realizes she might need saving just as much as he does.

notes: and... here i am…! (a month later) hope you are all still with me, lol. enjoy :) 🤍

word count: 7.8k

warnings: fluff and butterflies in the stomach!!!

next: chapter 10

tag list: @avalentina @a1leexxa

The apartment was quiet, the kind of silence that settles in long after the world outside has gone to sleep. Adeline sat curled up on the edge of the couch, her damp hair twisted into a bun and her phone resting untouched beside her. Stella had gone to bed an hour ago and Lily was fast asleep in the guest room, her tiny body tucked beneath a yellow blanket and her favorite stuffed bunny.

Adeline stared at the blank TV screen, her mind anything... but still.

She could still feel the water clinging to her skin, the way Mason’s hand had brushed her waist — that maddeningly soft touch that hadn’t felt accidental at all. And his voice, low and teasing.

“If you keep looking at me like that, I might think you actually like me.”

She brought her knees up to her chest, burying her face for a moment in her arms. God, why did her heart skip when she remembered the way he’d looked at her?

Like he saw right through her carefully constructed walls — and wasn’t scared of what he found there.

And then, of course, his friends had shown up. Perfect timing, really.

Just when her pulse had started to race for all the wrong reasons.

Just when her body had leaned forward, ever so slightly, as if it belonged there — right there — in that charged space between them.

Adeline sighed, dragging a hand down her face.

Get a grip. It was nothing.

Except... It didn’t feel like nothing.

Worse still, it wasn’t the first time lately that Mason had managed to catch her off guard. That storm… the way he’d held her without asking, without pushing. The way he’d offered her quiet comfort instead of empty words.

And now, this.

Her eyes drifted to her phone again. A message from him, still unread, glowed on the screen.

Mason: The offer still stands. My old flat’s free. It’s closer to the hospital and big enough for both you and Lily. No pressure. Just… think about it.

She had. Too much, in fact. It was tempting. More than tempting.

It was practical, smart even. And yet, the thought of being in his space again — alone — sent a flicker of nervous heat through her chest.

Adeline let out a slow breath, tilting her head back against the cushions.

A soft yawn from the hallway made her glance up just as Stella padded barefoot into the room, rubbing her eyes and heading toward the kitchen. She stopped mid-step when she spotted Adeline on the couch.

“You’re up?” Stella’s voice was rough with sleep, her messy ponytail swaying as she tilted her head. “Did Lily wake up?”

Adeline shook her head. “No, she’s out cold.”

“Then what’s your excuse?” Stella flicked on the soft kitchen light, grabbing a glass from the cupboard. “You were already half-dead when you got home.”

“Just couldn’t sleep.” Adeline offered a tired smile, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“Hm.” Stella filled the glass at the sink, then leaned against the counter, eyeing her over the rim. “You always get this look when you’re thinking too much.”

“Do I?” Adeline raised an eyebrow.

“Yep. It’s your ‘I’m spiraling internally but pretending to be fine’ face.” She sipped her water, then walked over, plopping down beside her. “Wanna talk about it?”

“No.”

“Liar.”

Adeline groaned, flopping her head back against the couch. “I’m not spiraling.”

“Sure. You just happen to be sitting in the dark, staring at your phone like it personally betrayed you.” Stella nudged her with her elbow. “What’s going on, Ady?”

There was a long pause.

Adeline stared at the ceiling, biting the inside of her cheek. She didn’t know how to explain it. Or maybe she did — and just didn’t want to say the words out loud. Saying it would make it real.

She felt Stella watching her, patient and quiet in that way she always was when she knew Adeline needed to be nudged without being pushed.

“I went to Mason’s today.” she finally said.

“I figured.” Stella’s tone was casual. “Another session?”

Adeline nodded. “Yes. His progress is good. He’s getting stronger.”

Silence stretched between them for a moment before Stella spoke again, voice soft.

“But, that’s not what’s keeping you up, is it?”

Adeline hesitated. Then: “We ended up in the pool.”

Stella’s eyes sparkled with interest. “Ok?”

“Not like that!” Adeline rushed to say, cheeks already heating. “He— he picked me up and threw me in. As a joke. It was stupid.”

“Sounds like flirting.” Stella grinned.

“It was… playful.”

“Flirting.”

“You’re impossible.” Adeline covered her face with her hands, muffling her groan.

“I’m not the one tossing people into pools like it’s a rom-com, Ady.” Stella teased, nudging her again. “Come on, babes. Spill it.”

“Nothing happened.” She peeked at her friend from between her fingers.

“But something almost did, didn’t it?”

That silenced her.

Stella’s voice softened even more. “You’ve got that look. The one you had when you first told me about Lily’s dad. Back when you didn’t want to admit he meant something to you.”

“This is different.” Adeline lowered her hands slowly.

“Yes.” Stella said. “Because this time, I think he actually sees you.”

The words landed harder than Adeline expected. Her throat tightened.

“I don’t know what this is, Stells.” she said, barely above a whisper. “He’s my patient. And I— I can’t afford to get caught up in something that’s going to complicate everything.”

“You’ve been through hell, Addy. I get it. But just because things have been hard doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to want something good again.”

Adeline looked down at her phone. The message from Mason still glowed softly.

“And... He offered me a place to stay.” she said after a moment. “His old apartment. Just until I can figure things out.”

Stella’s eyebrows lifted. “That’s actually… really thoughtful of him.”

“Yeah. Too thoughtful. Who does that?” Adeline shook her head. “He barely knows me. I mean, not really.”

“Maybe he wants to.” Stella just looked at her.

Adeline’s chest tightened. There it was again — that terrifying flicker of possibility. She hated how much it tempted her. How easily the idea slipped into her head and made itself comfortable.

“He makes me nervous.” she admitted quietly.

“Good nervous?” Stella asked.

Adeline paused. Then nodded.

Stella smiled gently. “Then maybe… don’t run from it just because it’s unfamiliar.”

Adeline leaned her head on her friend’s shoulder, and Stella rested hers against Adeline’s in return.

“I’m not saying move in and marry the guy.” she said lightly. “But maybe give him a chance to show you he’s not going to disappear the moment things get real.”

Adeline closed her eyes.

She wasn’t ready. But maybe… she didn’t need to be. Not all at once.

(...)

Adeline's shoes squeaked faintly against the polished floor as she moved through the corridor, clipboard tucked under one arm, a half-drunk bottle of water in the other. The night shift had been unusually slow — a few consultations, a patient with a fractured wrist from a night out gone wrong, and a brief handover with A&E. She was exhausted, of course, but it was that quiet kind of tired that gave her a moment to breathe. A moment to think.

Unfortunately.

As she pushed open the break room door, her phone buzzed in the pocket of her scrub top. She slipped it out, thumb tapping the screen, it was a text from Lily's sent from Stella's phone.

Lily: Mum I had a dream about dinosaurs and they were on a bus and the bus was flying.

Adeline smiled, biting her bottom lip.

Adeline: That’s mad, bug. I hope they dropped you off at school and didn’t eat your lunch. I’ll call you when I finish, okay?

She tucked the phone away again and stretched her arms above her head. One more round on the floor and she’d be done. Thank God.

She was halfway down the corridor when she turned a corner and nearly collided with someone.

"Whoa—sorry!" she said instinctively, stepping back.

"Alright, easy there." came the familiar voice, warm and distinctly amused.

Her eyes flicked up. Mason.

He stood there in joggers, trainers, and a slightly oversized hoodie, hood down, hair still slightly damp like he’d had a rushed shower before heading out. He was holding a takeaway coffee cup that read ‘Jo & Bean – Coffee for the Sleep-Deprived’.

Adeline blinked. “What on earth are you doing here at this hour?”

“I could ask you the same, Ady.” he replied, smiling. “You lot never sleep?”

“Some of us don’t have the luxury, Mase.” she said, playfully.

He lifted the cup. “I thought I’d pop in before my appointment. Early bird and all that.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Wait—you’ve got a check-up?”

“Bit of a progress review and chat about easing into pitch work again. Nothing serious, though.”

“Back on the grass, then?” She gave him a slow nod.

“Sort of. Light training, no contact. Not allowed to go full tilt. My physiotherapist says I’m coming along.”

She smirked. “Wonder who’s been working on that knee...”

“She’s alright. Bossy.” he said, leaning slightly closer.

“Sounds dreadful.”

They stood there for a second, quiet except for the faint buzz of overhead lights and someone wheeling a trolley down the far end of the hall.

“Fancy a quick break?” Mason asked suddenly. “I’ve got enough caffeine for two.”

She hesitated, then glanced at the clock. Still time before her shift ended. “You’re lucky I like coffee, Mount.”

“I had a feeling.” He grinned.

They sat side by side in the small waiting room near the atrium, just by the window where the sun was beginning to bleed in through the glass. The vending machines hummed quietly behind them.

Adeline took a sip of the coffee — slightly bitter, not her usual, but warm enough to count. “So… how’re you feeling about going back?”

Mason leaned back, gaze flicking out to the car park below. “Buzzing, honestly. But a bit nervous too.”

“Nervous? You?” She glanced sideways.

He chuckled under his breath. “Yeah, well. Bit mad, isn’t it? You spend your whole life doing something and then an injury takes it all away for a bit. You start wondering what it’s gonna feel like when you’re finally back.”

“But you’ve done the work. You’re not rushing it.” Adeline nodded.

“I know. Still—" He paused, tapping the side of the cup. “There’s always that voice in the back of your head.”

“You’ll be fine, Mase. Better than fine.” She looked at him quietly, the sharp edge of vulnerability in his words not lost on her.

He turned his head to meet her eyes, and for a brief moment, neither of them spoke.

Then a voice cut through the quiet.

“Adeline?”

She turned, startled.

Elliot.

He stood near the corner, dressed in his usual soft tones — a light jacket, navy jumper beneath it, messenger bag across his chest. He looked surprised to see her, and even more surprised when he clocked Mason sitting beside her.

“Hey, Elliot.” she said, standing. "How's everything?"

“I was just… dropping off a few forms for the council thing.” He rubbed the back of his neck, eyes flicking awkwardly to Mason. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Oh—this is Mason. Mason, this is Elliot. My neighbour. He’s been helping out since the flood at my place.”

“Nice to meet you, mate.” Mason stood, polite but reserved.

Elliot extended a hand, clearly trying to process the face in front of him. “Wait, are you—? You play for—”

“Something like that.” Mason gave a small nod.

“Oh, wow. That’s… brilliant.” Elliot laughed, slightly too loudly. “Didn’t expect a footballer in the hospital corridors.”

“Not usually where we train, no.”

Adeline fought the urge to laugh at the slight tension. Mason wasn’t exactly glaring, but he’d gone very still — the kind of stillness she recognised from when Lily watched cartoons and didn’t like a new character.

“Well...” Elliot said, turning back to her. “I’ll text you later about that fundraiser thing. Don’t forget.”

“I won’t.” she said, then added. “Thank you, Elliot.”

“Anytime.” With one last glance at Mason, Elliot gave a nod and walked off.

There was a beat of silence.

Mason watched Elliot head down the corridor, his jaw tight as he swirled the last bit of lukewarm coffee at the bottom of his cup. He looked sideways at Adeline, who was pretending not to notice how closely he was watching.

“What’s the fundraise about?”

“Well... It's a bit posh.” she said, stifling a yawn. “Hospital’s organizing a black-tie gala next month. Trying to raise money for a new medical wing. We’re short on space, staff, equipment—you name it.”

“Suit & Tie, huh?” Mason echoed, glancing at her with a crooked smile. “Didn’t have you pegged for the glitter and heels type.”

“That makes two of us.” she said, chuckling softly. “I’m not big on long dresses or awkward conversations over overpriced champagne, but it’s for a good cause.”

“What sort of stuff do they auction off?”

“Oh, all sorts of nonsense.” she said, waving her hand. “Luxury holidays, someone’s worn dress from a film premiere, private dinners with C-list celebs… last year someone bid £5000 for a weekend on a yacht in Mykonos.”

Mason let out a low whistle. “And let me guess, they want you front and centre in your best gown?”

“I’m part of the staff, not the main event, Mase.” she said dryly. “Elliot asked if I’d go with him as a plus-one, which sounded innocent enough… but I’ve not said yes, yet.”

Mason’s brow flicked, almost imperceptibly. “Right.”

She glanced at him, and for a moment, the air shifted — not tense, just aware.

“Still.” she added lightly. “if I do go, I’ll need to find a dress. Something decent but not too dramatic. It’s hard enough walking in heels, let alone pretending I belong in a room full of million-pound smiles.”

“You’d steal the room, Ady.” Mason said easily, his eyes on her now, unwavering.

Adeline raised an eyebrow, caught slightly off guard. “Would I?”

He gave a small shrug, but the smile tugging at his lips was undeniably flirtatious. “You’ve got that look… the kind that makes people stop talking when you walk in.”

She let out a short laugh, trying not to smile too much. “You rehearsed that one?”

“Not at all. Swear.” He grinned. “But if I’d known it’d make you smile like that, maybe I would’ve.”

She shook her head, biting back the laugh. “Alright, charmer."

“I’m just saying. You’d look great. Even if the dress ends up being some mad glittery thing. You’d still pull it off.”

A beat passed, her smile softening just slightly.

“Only problem is…” she said. “I don’t even know when I’d find the time to go. Between Lily, the hospital, and my sessions with you, I’m all over the place.”

Mason leaned back, tapping his fingers against the edge of the bench. “Then let me take you.”

“What?” Adeline blinked.

“To get the dress. I’ll drive. You can critique my music choices, roll your eyes at my fashion opinions, the full package.”

“You want to come dress shopping with me?” She gave him a skeptical look.

He shrugged again, nonchalant. “Why not? I’m free. And I’d rather be dragged round a shopping centre by you than sit through another tactical review video.”

Adeline narrowed her eyes at him playfully. “And what exactly is in it for you?”

Mason tilted his head, his voice dropping ever so slightly. “A couple of hours with you. That’s not bad, is it?”

For a second, she didn’t have an answer — and that was answer enough.

He stood, casually brushing off his trousers. “Think about it, yes?”

She rolled her eyes, but the smile that spread across her lips lingered long after he’d turned away.

(...)

The market bustled with Saturday noise — trolleys clattering, tills beeping, someone’s baby crying in the next aisle.

A smell of fresh bread and ripe tomatoes filled the air as Adeline held up a bunch of basil, arching a brow at Stella. “This one? Or are we pretending we’re doing fine dining and going for the organic overpriced one?”

Stella, inspecting a basket of cherry tomatoes, shot her a grin. “Go big or go home, darling. My date’s a lawyer. I need herbs that scream ‘I’ve got my life together.’”

“You’re cooking pasta, not hosting Master Chef.” Adeline chuckled, tossing the basil into the trolley.

“Details!” Stella waved her off. “Besides, it’s not about the food. It’s about the illusion. Candlelight, jazz, and a half-decent Chianti. He won’t know what hit him.”

They moved through the aisles, tossing in garlic, fresh parmesan, and a loaf of crusty bread. But even as she helped her best friend prep for a charming evening, Adeline couldn’t quite shake the nervous flutter in her stomach.

She stared a little too long at a shelf of sparkling water, lost in thought.

“Alright, what’s that face?” Stella glanced sideways.

“What face?”

“Pretending everything’s fine, but is not.”

“Mason offered to help me find a dress.” Adeline hesitated, then sighed.

“A dress? For that hospital event?” Stella blinked.

Adeline nodded, trying not to smile. “He said he could come with me. Moral support. Carry bags. Give rubbish fashion advice.”

“Did he now?” Stella smirked, tossing a box of breadsticks into the trolley. “And you just casually dropped that in here between tomato tins and rigatoni?”

“I didn’t want to make a big deal.” Adeline laughed, cheeks flushing.

“Oh, it is a big deal.” Stella said, dragging out the words. “He offered to go shopping. That’s not just flirting — that’s practically a romantic gesture in footballer language.”

“Stop.”

“I will not. Because now I need to know how you responded. Did you agree? Did you melt? Did your soul leave your body?”

“I might’ve said yes.” Adeline gave a half-hearted shrug.

Stella beamed, victorious. “So, the famous Mr. Mount is going to help you pick out a gown? Bet he’s hoping you try on about fifteen just so he can stare.”

“It’s not like that.” Adeline elbowed her.

“Oh, but it could be.”

They moved toward the wine aisle, the mood still light, but Stella noticed the shift in Adeline’s energy. She slowed the cart and asked gently. “Is it making things harder? Being close to him again?”

Adeline didn’t answer right away. She ran her hand along the bottles of red on the shelf, gaze unfocused. “It’s not just that. He offered the flat again. Said Lily and I could stay there, at least for a while, until I figure things out.”

“Are you thinking about it?” Stella’s expression softened.

“I can’t stop thinking about it, Stells.” Adeline admitted. “I hate feeling like a guest at your place — even though you’ve made it feel like home. I just... I don’t want to impose.”

“You’re not imposing, Ady.” Stella’s voice was firm. “This is your home too, for as long as you need it. But I get it. If staying at Mason’s flat makes life a bit easier for you and Lily, maybe it’s not a bad thing.”

“Feels like a line, though. Like if I cross it, I can’t go back.” Adeline gave a small smile.

“Maybe you don’t need to, babes.” Stella said simply. “Maybe going forward isn’t such a bad thing. Besides... he offered to help you shop for a gown. If that’s not a man ready to be crossed over the line for, I don’t know who is.”

Adeline laughed despite herself. “You always make it sound so easy.”

“Because I know you. And I know how long it’s been since you let someone in.”

They reached the checkout and Stella nudged her with her shoulder. “If you’re falling for him, Ady... it’s alright. Let yourself.”

Adeline didn’t reply — but her silence said more than words ever could.

(...)

The guest room had never felt smaller.

Adeline sat cross-legged on the bed, Lily tucked against her side with a tablet balanced on her lap, watching Paddington solve puzzles with a British accent far too posh to be realistic. Crayons were still scattered across the floor, abandoned after Lily’s brief artistic burst, and every few minutes, a burst of jazz filtered in from the kitchen — followed by another round of laughter from Stella and her very chatty date.

Adeline winced slightly at the sound of a cork popping.

She wasn’t annoyed — not really. Stella deserved a date, especially after putting up with a houseguest and a three-year-old tornado for over a week. But there was something about hearing the flirtatious hum of adult conversation from behind closed doors while you were sitting in borrowed pajamas and trying to keep a child entertained with cartoons that made you feel about twelve years old.

She sighed, shifted on the bed, and reached for her phone. A moment passed. Then, with a quiet exhale, she opened Mason’s chat.

Her fingers hovered for a second before typing.

Adeline: Is the shopping trip still a thing?

The “read” receipt popped up almost instantly.

Mason: Are you asking because you’re free or because you’re finally admitting you can’t shop without me?

Her eyes narrowed, amused. She could practically hear the grin in his voice.

Adeline: Let’s go with option C: I’m desperate and slightly horrified at the idea of shopping alone in a dress department.

Mason: That’s tragic. But lucky for you, I’m available. Tonight work?

Adeline blinked. Tonight?

Adeline: You’re joking.

Mason: Dead serious. You said it was urgent. I’m your knight in shining trainers. Well… joggers, technically.

Adeline smiled despite herself, glancing down at Lily who was now half-asleep, her head slipping off her arm.

Adeline: If you’re serious… can Lily come too?

There was a pause, then:

Mason: Only if she helps me judge the sparkly options. And you let me pick at least one ridiculous dress for you to try on.

She laughed softly.

Adeline: You’re insufferable.

Mason: And yet... you texted me.

Adeline: Fine. But, no pink.

Mason: No promises. I’ll be there in twenty.

Her stomach flipped. She looked down at her hoodie and socks, then quickly tapped out one last message.

Adeline: Stella’s date is here. I feel like a teenager sneaking out of the house.

Mason: Good. Let’s make it a proper rebellion. I’ll text when I’m outside.

She grinned. Of course he’d say something like that.

Tossing her phone to the side, she leaned over to nudge Lily, gently.

“Hey, sweetheart.” she whispered. “Fancy helping me and Mason find a dress tonight?”

“With sparkles?” Lily stirred, rubbing her eyes.

Adeline kissed the top of her head. “Definitely sparkles.”

And just like that, the jazz music outside didn’t matter anymore.

(...)

The car was warm and smelled faintly of cologne and something citrusy, like those fancy car air fresheners Adeline never bothered with. Mason reached across the passenger seat to open the door for her, the most casual gesture, but it made something flicker in her chest. Lily scrambled into the back with a beaming grin, already impressed just by the shiny car and the footballer behind the wheel.

“Hi, Mason!” she chirped, kicking her little legs excitedly.

“Alright, Lily?” he replied with a smile, glancing at her in the rearview mirror. “You ready to be my fashion consultant?”

“Yes.” she said, very seriously. “But only if there’s snacks.”

Adeline let out a short laugh, shutting her door. “That’s non-negotiable.”

“I like her style. Smart girl.” Mason looked over at her, grinning.

He started the engine, the quiet hum barely audible under Lily’s voice already filling the space.

“Can we play music?” she asked. “Mommy has boring songs.”

“Oi!” Adeline said, twisting in her seat. “ I do not.”

“I mean the ones without singing.” Lily added, innocently. “It’s just instruments and feelings.”

Mason tried to contain a laugh and failed. “She’s savage. I respect it.”

“Don’t encourage her, Mount.” Adeline muttered, though the edge of her mouth tugged into a smile.

He tapped the screen on the dashboard. “Alright, DJ Lily. What’s the vibe?”

Lily gasped like he’d just offered her ice cream. “Taylor Swift!”

“Since when do you know your way around a pop playlist?” Adeline raised an eyebrow.

Mason shrugged, pulling out onto the road. “You pick up a thing or two in locker rooms. Also, Taylor’s got bangers.”

The car filled with the opening chords of Shake It Off, Lily singing along enthusiastically. Adeline relaxed into her seat, watching the city pass through the windows, a small smile playing on her lips.

“You’re really trusting me with this whole dress business, yeah?” Mason said after a few minutes, his tone casual.

“I wouldn’t call it trust...” she replied. “More like mild desperation.”

“Still sounds like a compliment to me.” He turned to look at her briefly, eyes playful.

They pulled into the shopping centre car park, and Lily unbuckled herself before either of them could stop her, already bouncing with energy.

“Right.” Mason said, stepping out and opening Adeline’s door again. “Let’s find something that says: I’m elegant, powerful, and not here to flirt with Mr. Fundraiser.”

She rolled her eyes, hopping down. “You do realise he has a name?”

“Do I?” Mason said, locking the car with a click and shooting her a look. “Haven’t heard it.”

Lily reached for both their hands — Mason’s with no hesitation — and tugged them toward the entrance.

Adeline glanced at their hands, then up at Mason. “She’s got you wrapped around her little finger already.”

He looked down at Lily swinging between them and smiled. “What can I say? She’s cooler than you.”

“You’re ridiculous.” Adeline laughed, bumping his arm gently.

“True.” he said. “But I’m still the one helping you find a dress. So I win.”

The mall was buzzing with the hum of weekend shoppers, golden light pouring from the skylights above. Wide, polished floors gleamed under designer storefronts — cool marble tiles and endless glass displays that screamed luxury. Everything about it felt like it belonged to another world. Adeline adjusted Lily’s hand in hers and glanced sideways at Mason.

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this.” she said, eyeing a nearby boutique window filled with mannequins in glittering gowns.

“You say that like I dragged you here.” Mason smirked.

“You didn’t.” she sighed. “But you bribed me with coffee and the promise of moral support.”

“Exactly. Which means I’m technically a hero.”

They began their search in a more laid-back store: soft lighting, minimalist decor, racks of gowns that leaned trendy rather than timeless. Adeline tried on a slinky silver dress first — too tight, clinging in uncomfortable places. Mason gave it a “3 out of 10, only because it’s shiny.” Lily squinted, then shook her head with a very serious, “You look like a disco ball, Mummy.”

The next was a strapless teal dress with feathers. Lily laughed so hard she nearly fell off the bench. “You’re a bird!” she squeaked. Adeline was laughing too, cheeks pink.

Dress after dress followed — an emerald green one that looked beautiful on the hanger but too stiff on her body; a floral ruffled one that made her feel like she was playing dress-up in someone else’s closet.

Each try was met with theatrical reactions from her “judging panel”: Lily with her hands over her mouth, Mason giving mock-serious notes like “it needs more drama” or “too garden party, not enough red-carpet.”

And yet, in the chaos of failed fashion experiments, Adeline found herself... happy. Watching Mason help Lily with a juice box, crouching to fix the strap on her shoe, their heads tilted together in laughter. She could almost forget this was meant to be a quick errand.

By the time they stepped out of the sixth store, her feet ached, her hair was messy, and her mood hovered between amused and exhausted.

“Alright.” she sighed, glancing at the sleek glass front of a boutique tucked near the end of the corridor. The interior glowed gold and ivory, with velvet chairs and mirrored walls, and gowns that looked like they belonged on magazine covers. “This is the last one. I probably can’t afford anything inside, but... might as well look.”

“You sure? Looks a bit... posh.” Mason tilted his head.

“I’m already dying, Mase.” she muttered. “Might as well do it in tulle.”

The moment she stepped inside, the air changed. A soft piano melody played overhead. The gowns shimmered in blush tones, muted metallics, and creamy whites. An attendant greeted her warmly and asked what she was looking for. Adeline explained quietly, almost shy, and was ushered to a dressing room while Mason and Lily settled onto a velvet couch with a handful of mini cookies.

Then, she saw it. The dress.

Delicate pink with embroidered roses blooming across the fabric. Soft layers of chiffon and organza created a flowy silhouette that felt romantic but effortless, dreamy without being overdone. It cinched gently at the waist and fell in a cascade of petal-like folds. She ran her fingers over the embroidery. It felt like something from a storybook.

She tried it on with care, her breath catching a little when she caught sight of herself in the mirror.

Then, cautiously, she stepped out.

Mason stood up instantly.

His mouth opened, but no words came out. He blinked once. Twice.

"Mommy, you’re a real princess!” Lily’s eyes lit up.

Adeline smiled nervously. “Is it too much?”

Mason shook his head slowly. “No. It’s... you. It’s perfect.”

She turned a little, struggling with the zipper. “Damn thing won’t go up.”

“Here.” Mason said softly, already stepping behind her. She gathered her hair to the side, letting his hands slide gently to the small of her back. The zipper moved slowly — partially because it was delicate, partially because he was distracted by the way she smelled like rosewater and something warmer beneath it.

She met his eyes in the mirror. Their gazes locked.

The air felt suddenly tight, like the silence might crack from the weight of it.

“That dress should come with a warning.” He cleared his throat, voice quiet.

“Why?” she asked, half breathless.

“Because if you wear that to the auction, no one’s going to look at the items being sold.”

“Let me check the price before I fall in love for real.” The moment shattered. Adeline laughed, stepping away.

She disappeared into the changing room again, heart still oddly fluttering — and then she saw the tag.

Her stomach dropped.

Literally, a month of her salary.

Later, at the register, she handed the dress to the attendant. “It’s beautiful.” she said softly. “But... it’s a bit out of my range.”

But, Mason waited until they were a few paces away, quietly stepping back to the counter and pulled out his wallet.

“Can I buy it for her?” he asked, his voice low. “But don’t say anything. Just — wrap it up and deliver it to her place. Make it look like it came from the store. No receipt, no names.”

The assistant’s eyes softened. “Absolutely. I’ll take care of it personally.”

“Do you have a card I can write on?” Mason glanced at the dress still hanging nearby, catching the light just right.

She handed him a small cream envelope and a pen. He stood for a second, thinking, then bent over the counter. Before Adeline could notice he was still in the store, Mason quickly tucked the card into the folds of the tissue paper as the woman began wrapping the dress, tying it off with a sleek black satin ribbon.

“Make sure it gets to the right address.” he added, handing her his card for the delivery.

“Sure.” she said. “Discreetly.” she let out a smile.

By the time Mason caught up with Adeline and Lily outside the shop, they were already walking ahead, Lily chattering about a dog she’d seen passing by. Adeline turned slightly as he joined them.

“They really should’ve marked it down.” she said with a small sigh. “Would’ve made it easier to walk away.”

“Looks like it was meant to be, anyway.” Mason shrugged casually.

Adeline gave a faint laugh, shaking her head, but her smile lingered. The kind of smile that made her eyes go soft, like she was still holding on to a little bit of the dress, even without having it in her hands.

And Mason — well, he smiled too.

But it wasn’t just about the dress.

It was about the way she looked at it like it was magic. The way she didn’t try to talk herself out of wanting it.

The way, just maybe, she was beginning to believe she deserved beautiful things.

Even if someone had to help her get them — quietly, from a distance.

(...)

The car hummed quietly as Mason navigated through the early evening streets of Manchester, city lights flickering to life like little promises. Adeline sat in the passenger seat, her fingers loosely laced in her lap, while Lily dozed with her head resting on her mother’s shoulder, the day finally catching up to her.

“I’ll drop you both at Stella’s.” Mason said, glancing sideways. “Unless…”

Adeline raised an eyebrow. “Unless?”

“There’s this little Italian ice cream shop I used to love. It’s right around the corner from my old flat.” He shot her a look, not quite a smile. “Figured we could celebrate the great dress hunt victory.”

“She’s almost asleep.” Adeline hesitated.

Mason lowered his voice. “She’ll wake up for ice cream. Come on, it’s great. I used to walk there after every match I didn’t screw up.”

“Alright.” she relented, hiding a smile. “But if she turns into a sugar gremlin, I’m sending her home with you.”

“Deal.” Mason smirked.

The bell above the door chimed as they stepped into the cozy little gelateria, nestled at the corner of a quiet block. It smelled like warm waffle cones and caramelized sugar, and the faint hum of Italian jazz drifted through the air.

“Mom, look at all the colors!” Lily came to life instantly, bouncing to the display case with wide eyes.

“Pick two. Two, Lily.” Adeline leaned down beside her, already laughing.

“Three.” Mason whispered to the girl. “We’ll tell your mom it was a sample situation.”

Lily giggled and looked up at the attendant with reverence. “One scoop of mint. One cookie dough. One… that pink one, please!”

“Strawberry?” the man behind the counter asked.

“No, the sparkly one.”

“She’s got good taste.” Mason leaned in, inspecting the glittery flavor.

“You’re not helping, you know.” Adeline tried not to smile as she picked a simple hazelnut scoop in a cup.

“I’m not trying to.” He winked as he handed her the spoon. “Besides, she’s got a system. Mint first, sparkle second, cookie dough always last.”

“You memorized her order?”

“She talks a lot when she’s excited.” Mason said, then looked down at Lily. “And she was very excited about this plan.”

Lily beamed like she’d just been knighted.

They took a seat near the window, the three of them tucked into a corner booth. Mason’s cone melted slowly under the warmth of his hand, but he didn’t seem to notice. He was too busy watching Lily draw smiley faces on her napkin with the end of her spoon.

“She’ll crash in the car.” Adeline murmured, watching her daughter fondly.

“Worth it.” Mason said.

She looked over at him then — at the soft ease in his face, the way he leaned back with one arm stretched along the booth, utterly at home.

“Do you like this neighborhood?” she asked.

“Yeah.” he said quietly. “Still do, honestly.”

Adeline stirred her ice cream. “Stella’s place has been… kind. But temporary.”

“I figured.” He looked out the window, then back at her. “You know… my flat’s just around the corner. Still furnished. Clean. Quiet. Yours, if you want it.”

“You’ve offered before, Mase.” She hesitated.

“And I’ll keep offering, Ady.” he said gently. “But right now, just come see it. You don’t have to move in. No pressure. I just… want you to know it’s there.”

Adeline glanced down at Lily, who had just finished her cone and was now lazily tracing hearts in the condensation on the table.

“I don’t want her to get attached to something we can’t keep.”

“She already likes it here. That counts for something.” Mason’s voice lowered.

Adeline looked back up at him.

“Fine.” she said after a moment.

The building was set on a quiet street, tucked between trees and well-kept brick townhomes. It stood tall and modern, its facade a blend of charcoal steel and white stone, with balconies that overlooked the city skyline. The entrance glowed with soft recessed lighting, and a doorman greeted Mason with a familiar smile.

Adeline looked up, feeling suddenly small beneath it all.

“Chic.” she murmured as the elevator doors closed behind them.

“It’s not as dramatic inside.” Mason chuckled.

When the doors slid open, they stepped into a wide hallway with cream walls and dark hardwood floors. He led them to a door at the end, unlocking it with a quiet click.

The flat opened up before them — airy and warm, sunlight pouring in through massive windows that framed Manchester in dusky gold. The living room was sleek but inviting, with a deep navy couch, soft rugs, and touches of green from a few still-thriving plants. A bookshelf sat near the corner, filled with novels and old match-day programs. A pair of trainers sat neatly near the door.

“I kept most of it the way it was.” Mason said, slipping off his shoes. “Someone comes in once a week to keep it clean, just in case.”

Lily wandered in without hesitation, curling up on the couch like she’d done it a hundred times before. Adeline walked slowly through the space, fingers brushing along the kitchen counter, the back of the dining chair. There was nothing overly fancy about it — but it felt intentional. Comfortable. Real.

She stopped at the wide window in the living room, staring out at the view.

“It's beautiful, Mase.” she said softly.

“I bought it because of the view.” Mason said from behind her. “It always made things feel… less chaotic.”

When she turned around, he was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching her like he wasn’t sure what she’d say next.

“I didn’t expect it to feel like… this.” Adeline exhaled slowly.

“Like what?”

“Like maybe I could picture me and Lily here.” She shrugged.

Mason’s gaze shifted toward the three-year-old, now dozing with her hand tucked under her cheek.

“You don’t owe me anything, Ady.” he said quietly. “Not rent. Not gratitude. Nothing. I just want you both to have somewhere safe. Somewhere that’s yours. Even if it’s temporary.”

“Let’s see the rest of it.” Adeline’s throat tightened, but she nodded.

The hallway was dimly lit, the kind of lighting that made everything feel slower. Softer. Mason gestured first to the guest bedroom.

“This one’s smaller, but bright in the mornings. Would be Lily’s, obviously.”

Adeline stepped inside, taking in the warm beige tones, the soft comforter, the books already stacked neatly on a floating shelf. There was even a little desk in the corner with a pinboard, a single daisy still pressed in the middle.

“She’d love it.” she said softly, more to herself than to him.

Mason didn’t say anything — just watched her as she touched the desk like she was already imagining her daughter there.

“And yours, would be this one.” he said after a beat, pushing open the next door.

Adeline stepped past him, and Mason’s breath caught — not because she brushed against him (though she did), but because she paused in the center of the room and looked around like she’d just walked into someone’s memory.

His.

The room was clean, but lived-in. A few trophies lined a shelf, and on the dresser sat a framed photo of his early days at Chelsea — him, barely out of his teens, with a grin that didn’t quite know how to hold ambition yet. Another frame held a picture of him and Declan, both younger, sunburnt and laughing.

The bed was unmade. Not messy, just… used. Like maybe Mason hadn’t stayed here in a while, but still came back sometimes. Still belonged here, even if it wasn’t his home anymore.

Adeline’s fingers hovered above the dresser before she spoke.

“You didn’t pack much.”

“I never really needed to.” Mason said quietly from the doorway. “I moved, but… not far. And I guess I liked the idea of this place waiting for something better.”

She turned to him then, and something shifted in the air.

It wasn’t loud — no thunderclap, no dramatic pause — but something fragile and electric threaded between them.

“You look different in those.” Her eyes softened as she glanced at the photos.

“Better or worse?”

“Younger.” she said. Then, after a moment: “Lonelier.”

Mason didn’t answer right away. When he did, his voice was low.

“I think I was.”

“And now?” Adeline stood still, her fingers curling at her sides.

“Now?” He met her gaze.

His voice barely made it to her.

“I don’t feel so alone.”

And there it was — that pause. That breath between something innocent and something that could be more. Her heart beat faster, but she didn’t back away.

“Mason…”

“I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable.” he said quickly, eyes steady on hers. “I just wanted you to see that this place… could be yours. For however long you need it. No strings. No pressure. Just… a door that’s open.”

Adeline looked at him — really looked. The soft light from the window casting half of his face in shadow, his hands loose in his pockets like he was holding himself back.

“You always do that.” she said.

“Do what?”

“Say the exact right thing.”

Mason smiled — crooked, self-deprecating, that little spark of something mischievous in his eyes. “Only when it’s true.”

She moved closer, just slightly, just enough that the room felt smaller.

“I can see why you loved this place.” she said. “It feels like you, Mase.”

“And what does that mean?”

“Safe. Warm. A little messy.” She tilted her head.

“Ouch.”

“In a good way.”

Their eyes locked. The space between them didn’t shrink, but it didn’t need to — everything had already shifted.

And Mason, for once, didn’t make a joke. He just looked at her like he was waiting for permission.

Just one word. A blink. A breath.

And then maybe — just maybe — the moment would finally break.

Adeline didn’t move away. Neither did he.

The silence wasn’t awkward — it pulsed between them, thick with unsaid things. The kind that made your chest ache in the best way. The kind that made everything else — the world outside, the hum of the fridge, even the sound of Lily’s soft breathing in the living room — fade into nothing.

She glanced toward the window, her eyes catching the Manchester skyline bathed in dusk. Everything outside was steel and lights and movement.

But here, in this room, with him. It was still.

Safe.

Mason’s voice came, low and rough at the edges. “You’re the first person I’ve brought here since I left.”

Adeline looked back at him.

“I didn’t think I’d care about this place again. But now… with you here, I don’t know. It’s like I remember why I liked waking up in it.”

She swallowed, something pressing tight in her throat.

“I’m not saying it to get anything from you.” He took a step closer, slowly. “I know I push sometimes. I joke. I throw things out there just to see what you’ll do. But this...” his hand gestured between them, almost shy. “This isn’t a joke.”

Adeline’s breath caught.

It had been building for weeks — glances held too long, conversations that dug deeper than they were supposed to, his hand on her back when the wind picked up, her voice softening when she said his name. She hadn’t let herself name it. She hadn’t dared.

But now it was here. Right in front of her.

Mason was standing just a foot away, his eyes scanning hers like he needed to make sure she was with him in this moment. His voice dropped, barely audible now.

“I think I started falling for you the second you glared at me in that hospital room.”

Adeline’s lips parted — in surprise, in disbelief, in a thousand things she didn’t have words for.

“You hated me.” Mason smiled softly.

“I didn’t hate you, Mase.” she whispered.

“Sure felt like it.”

“You were cocky.”

“And you were impossible.” He took another step. “Still are.”

She let out a breath that was half a laugh, half something else entirely. He was right in front of her now, close enough that she could feel the warmth radiating off him.

Her heart was a mess of rhythms. Fear. Hope. Wonder.

“Mason…”

His fingers brushed the side of her arm, barely there. Testing. Waiting.

“I just—” His voice cracked a little. “I just want to kiss you.”

Something in her chest gave way.

Her voice trembled as she nodded.

He moved in slowly, almost reverently. One hand cupped her jaw, warm and steady, the pad of his thumb grazing just below her cheekbone. Her eyes fluttered shut.

And then, finally, his mouth met hers.

It was soft at first. Careful. A question and a promise all at once.

But when she leaned into him — just slightly, just enough — it deepened.

Mason exhaled against her lips, like he’d been holding that breath for weeks. His other hand slid around her waist, drawing her close, like he couldn’t help himself now that he’d started. She gripped his shirt, needing something to hold on to, something to ground her in the middle of whatever this was exploding inside her.

The kiss grew — slower, then more urgent. Her back found the edge of the dresser and she didn’t care. His fingers slid into her hair. Her heart was racing, but she wasn’t scared.

She felt wanted. Completely, entirely wanted.

And not just her — Adeline. All of her.

When they finally broke apart, her forehead rested against his, breath mingling, eyes still closed.

Neither of them said anything for a long moment.

Until, Mason whispered. “I’ve wanted to do that for so long.”

Adeline nodded, lips still tingling. “Me too.”

He smiled against her skin.

And somewhere in the other room, Lily shifted in her sleep — a tiny sound in a quiet world. A reminder of reality waiting just outside the door.

But for now, in this room, nothing else existed.

(...)

[existence-is-a-pain87]

Can you Do Scraps Plz

Alrighty! As a warning, I haven't been fortunate enough to get enough things to play as Scraps in the game, so I'm going off the wiki. If I'm doing anything wrong regarding her in character or anything, please tell me immediately so I can go fix it!

Also, this story is written with the assumption those who read it have a pet cat. Because I have a cat and also think having a cat would have some unique benefits in the story. (Also I just like cats. And yes, you guys can have pictures of my cat if you ask <3)

There for You

Yandere!Self-Aware!Scraps x Reader

Warnings: Obsession and general yandere behaviors

--☆☆☆☆☆--

Scraps was one of the Toons who grew curious about you when she heard you.

She saw Goob's excitement, heard his curious rambles about you, his questioning if you liked hugs, how he really wanted to hug you since your voice made you sound like the most huggable person in the whole world!

She was a little more skeptical, worrying if you weren't a good person. What if you wanted to hurt her? What if you wanted to hurt Goob?

Then she heard you get excitement over having a Goob join your run. Heard you remark how you wanted to play as him but needed more research.

Even if you got frustrated whenever a Twisted Scraps or Twisted Goob appeared, she quickly figured out you just didn't like having to deal with being attacked at a range.

You cared about her and her younger brother.

So is it surprising she grew to care about you?

--☆☆☆--

Soon she started learning more things about you.

You liked to draw and create.

She would love to make arts and crafts with you! She hopes you know some good things to make!

You were airheaded and a bit forgetful.

Just like her! Hehe!

You liked other games too.

She just hopes Dandy's World is your favorite. She doesn't want you to get distracted and stop playing. That would make Goob sad!

And make her sad too...

And, much to her glee, you had a pet cat!

Even if she wasn't a cat, that meant you had to like her! Everyone calls her a cat anyways, so that means if you like cats, you like her!

She just hopes you'll like her more than your pet cat...

Why shouldn't she tell you about herself if she was able to learn so much about you?

When you finally managed to get her Toon form and play as her, it wasn't hard for the rest of your team to die and for it to just be you and her entering the elevator.

It was hilariously easy to say a new line, her commenting on how she wanted to try doing something new, and for you to speak.

To speak and be completely unaware of how she heard you.

You offered the idea of crocheting little animals into the shape of these cutesy little balls. How bees would be a great start.

She loved your idea. The moment you finished playing and left to do something else for a bit, she immediately got started.

She made all sorts of animals. She gave some to Goob.

Scraps loves your ideas.

She wants to hear more of them.

--☆☆☆--

Scraps hates seeing you cry.

One you played, quietly sobbing because something went wrong in your life.

Fortunately, you were playing as her.

So it wasn't hard to start saying new lines. One's you barely noticed were different.

But you started venting.

And Scraps listened.

She would do anything to help you.

That was the day she made her promise.

--☆☆☆--

Scraps made a little figurine of you.

She didn't know what you looked like, so she designed you off of what your voice sounded like.

You sounded kind, so she made you look kind.

You sounded creative, so she made you look creative.

Goob helped. He said you sounded like you were the most huggable person to ever be hugged, so your little figurine was perfect to hug.

Scraps even went and made little figurines of her and Goob to stay with your figurine.

She put them in a little shrine she made.

She always made sure to add new crafts to the shrine she made for you each and every day!

She loves you.

She loves you so much.

She promises one thing.

Her one promise she'll never forget nor break.

She'll always be there for you.

[prettyprincessduh]

Alphabet Soup ~ Rami characters edition ✨️

~~~

AN~ This trend is lowkey so old but I wanted to do it for my fav Rami characters

~~~

Characters in this post ~

Elliot Alderson

Ahkmenrah

Josh Washington

Finn - Need 4 speed

~~~

Elliot~

A = Aftercare

Awkward but sweet. He gets super quiet, not out of rudeness, but because his brain is overloading. He’ll probably get distant and nervous, especially if its a hookup. However if you're close and dating he'd most likely be stroking your hair. It takes him a while to say something, but when he does, it’s always something soft like, “You okay?” or “You were perfect.”

B = Body part

On you your thighs. He’s obsessed. Loves when you straddle him, loves gripping them, biting into them even. I get the vibe he would probably be a boobs guy, too. idk he feels like the type to wanna grab them

On himself—he hates his own body a bit, but he’ll admit his hands are “useful.”

C = Cum

He’s a mess. He tries to hold back but loses it when you whisper anything even slightly dirty. He likes cumming on you rather than in you. The thought of having kids terrifies him.

Places he'd cum ~ your stomach, chest, inner thighs, he finds it weirdly intimate.

D = Dirty secret

He’s set up cams in his room to rewatch you two together. Not out of creepiness ~ but because he’s obsessed. You’re his comfort and chaos, and he’s addicted.

E = Experience

Not a ton, honestly. But he's a fast learner. And once he trusts you? He’s eager to make you melt. Secretly watches porn you like to “study.”

F = Favorite position

He loves when you ride him. Being under you makes him feel safe but also absolutely wild. Watching you lose control on top of him? His favorite kind of powerlessness. He's a total bottom once he's comfortable

G = Goofy

He's not goofy... but sometimes when he's too in love with you, he’ll nervously laugh and ruin the moment. Then immediately bury his face in your neck in embarrassment. It’s cute.

H = Hair

Messy. Doesn’t shave anything unless he has to. Chest hair? None. Downstairs? He trims… sometimes.

I = Intimacy

Deep, intense eye contact when he’s fully emotionally connected. He may not say “I love you” every time, but his hands, his body, his whole soul shows it.

J = Jack off

Frequently. He fantasizes about you more than anything. Even the smallest moment ~ like you brushing his arm ~ can trigger a full-on fantasy spiral.

K = Kink

Voyeurism. Watching. Recording. That hacker brain loves capturing moments no one else gets to see. He may have hacked into your laptop webcam to watch you pleasure yourself

Also, slight power play ~ he likes you in control until he snaps.

L = Location

His apartment. Even though it’s a mess, it feels private and safe. He also secretly loves the idea of the fsociety arcade. Grungy, dangerous, perfect.

Once he's comfortable, he may go to your place since you'd have an actual bed and not a mattress on the floor

M = Motivation

Stress relief. Your voice, the way you look at him, the soft scent of your skin. And when you say his name in that one tone? Game over.

N = No

He won't do anything degrading or anything that makes you uncomfortable. No humiliation play. No hurting you. Emotionally or physically. Ever.

I mean, unless he's tripping out and losing control of himself but lowkey, I don't think I'd write that 💀 Especially after finding out what happened to him

O = Oral

Loves giving, but doesn't brag about it. He gets lost in it. Holds your thighs down and just devours you. Receiving? He gets shy but he won’t stop you.

P = Pace

Usually slow, sensual, drawing it out because he wants to feel everything. But when he snaps? It’s rough. Desperate. Unhinged.

Q = Quickie

He doesn't seek them out but when he's worked up? He’ll grab you against a wall, press a hand over your mouth, and take. He always apologizes after. Even though you loved it.

R = Risk

He’s more open than he lets on. If you suggest something risky, it turns him on like hell. Especially if it’s sneaky. He loves a good secret.

S = Stamina

One good long round… then needs to cuddle and reboot. Give him a few minutes, some soft kisses, and he’s ready again.

T = Toys

He doesn’t own any but if you bring one into the mix? He’s fascinated. Watches closely. May eventually ask to control it.

U = Unfair

He’s a tease king when he wants to be. Ghost touches. Whispering filthy things and then pulling away. He’ll edge you for hours if he’s in the right mood.

V = Volume

Quiet… until he can’t be. When he moans? It’s low, broken, breathy. He gasps your name like it’s the only thing grounding him.

W = Wild card

He's only had two previous girlfriends being Angela and Shayla

he is scared to get into a relationship again because he always feels like he puts others in danger

X = X-ray

Slim, lean muscle. Hidden strength. And he’s bigger than he thinks he is. Let’s just say... you were pleasantly surprised.

I wanna say more girth that length, but it's not, not lengthy like it's definitely a good size

Omg and veiny. Have you seen his arms and hands???

Y = Yearning

HIGH. But he won’t act on it unless you give him the green light. When he does though? He’ll crave you every hour of the day.

Z = Zzz

Immediately wraps around you like a blanket burrito after. Your heartbeat calms him. He falls asleep, holding your hand under the sheets.

He gets the best sleep after being with you.

Ahkmenrah~

A = Aftercare

The softest prince ever. He wraps you in silk sheets, gently massages your thighs, and whispers praise in ancient Egyptian. Think forehead kisses, feeding you grapes, and tucking you into him like his sacred treasure.

B = Body Part

On himself: His hands. He loves how strong yet delicate they are—how they can hold a scroll one minute and worship your body the next. I'd also say his Abs, he values keeping fit

On you: Your hips. He’s obsessed. He’ll trace them with reverence and grip them like a lifeline.

C = Cum

He treats it like a ritual. When he finishes, it’s almost reverent, like you’ve shared something sacred. Definitely into cumming inside if you’re down he thinks of it as marking his queen. Reader would probably have to go on birth control or she'd be pregnant 24 7

D = Dirty Secret

He’s been dreaming about doing it in front of one of the museum's sacred relics for years. He’d never risk it… or would he?

E = Experience

He was a virgin when revived but he learns fast. He's a quick study, eager to please, and surprisingly intuitive. By now? He knows exactly what he’s doing.

F = Favorite Position

Missionary but with his hands holding your wrists down, whispering Egyptian endearments while you fall apart beneath him. Or reverse cowgirl, so he can worship your body from below.

G = Goofy

Mostly serious, but if he gets really flustered, he’ll laugh. Especially if something modern confuses him mid-act like edible underwear. “This is food… but also clothing?”

H = Hair

Trimmed neatly, but not bare. He’s well-groomed out of royal habit. Yes, the drapes match the carpet. Regal, soft, slightly curled very touchable.

I = Intimacy

Deeply emotional. He sees sex as a bonding ritual. Every kiss, every touch is filled with devotion. He’ll look you in the eyes the whole time and whisper, “I am yours”

J = Jack Off

He does… but only when he can't have you. Always with reverence. Once he discovered lube, it was over.

K = Kink

Praise. Calling you his queen, his goddess, his chosen one.

He also believes in him being dominat in bed, but once you took control one time, a switch flipped

L = Location

The throne in his exhibit. Your bedroom. Your kitchen. A bathhouse. A carriage ride. The man’s got range.

M = Motivation

Seeing you in anything revealing, catching you stretching. Hearing you call him “Pharaoh” in that tone.

N = No

Anything degrading or too rough. He can get possessive, but never cruel. He values connection too much to treat you like anything less than royalty.

O = Oral

He adores giving. Watches your face the entire time. Skilled tongue, steady hands. You’ll be chanting his name like a prayer. Receiving? Oh, he’ll melt. He adores praise.

P = Pace

Slow and sensual, but when he gets really worked up? Oh, he’ll snap. Gripping your thighs, slamming into you, desperate to make you scream.

Q = Quickie

Once he understood what it was? Addicted. Back of your car, in the museum’s archives, your closet during a party, you name it.

R = Risk

Secretly loves danger. He’ll pretend to be innocent but gets thrilled by the idea of getting caught. The adrenaline makes him bolder.

S = Stamina

Royal blood means royal stamina. Two rounds minimum , sometimes three or four. He’s insatiable when you rile him up, and he won’t stop until you’re limp with pleasure.

T = Toys

He didn’t understand them at first… but now he has favorites. Silk ties, glass wands, and a soft feather he loves using to drive you wild.

U = Unfair

SO unfair. He’ll edge you with just his fingers and smirk while whispering, “Beg for your Pharaoh, my queen.”

V = Volume

He groans low and deep like thunder. Occasionally slips into Egyptian when overwhelmed. Hearing him moan your name? Life-changing.

W = Wild card

He has a royal breeding kink. Think: “I want you round with my heir.” Doesn’t matter if it’s roleplay or fantasy he wants to claim you in every way.

X = X-ray

Built like a god. Sculpted abs, strong thighs, and hung like royalty. Thick, long, and curved slightly to the right, just enough to hit every spot.

Y = Yearning

HIGH sex drive. He’s touch-starved from centuries of stillness, so now that he’s free? He can’t keep his hands off of you.

Z = Zzz

Once he knows you’re okay, he passes out holding you close, legs tangled, breathing warm on your neck. Dead to the world, no pun intended.

Josh~

A = Aftercare

He’s actually super attentive. For someone who seems chaotic, he turns into this gentle, cuddly softie. Warm towels, kisses on your forehead, and lots of “you okay, baby?” whispered against your skin. He needs to know you’re good.

B = Body part

On himself? He’s cocky about his mouth he knows how to use it, too. On you? Your thighs. Doesn’t matter if you're sitting, walking, lying down he’s obsessed. Loves resting his head on them and sneaking kisses.

C = Cum

He likes it messy. Every and anywhere.

Loves seeing you dripping, especially if he’s been teasing you for ages. But he’s also big on watching it soak your skin. He thinks it's artistic (in a hot, twisted way).

D = Dirty secret

He's jerked off to your voicemail like way too many times, which usually leaves you confused when you see the missed calls

E = Experience

Not tons, but enough. He’s watched a lot of videos and read some things he probably shouldn’t have. But with you? He’s eager, open, and gets better each time. He learns fast.

F = Favorite position

He likes it when you're on top. He loves watching you take control while he melts underneath you, but he also secretly loves flipping the script halfway through and wrecking you.

G = Goofy

He’s got a wicked sense of humor. Will 100% say something ridiculous right before sliding in. But once he’s in the zone? His smile fades, and he gets serious.

H = Hair

Groomed-ish, but nothing fancy. He’s not high-maintenance.

I = Intimacy

He doesn’t just want your body he wants your soul. Eye contact that borders on possessive. Whispers like “you’re mine” when he’s deep inside you. It's intense, emotional, and sometimes scary good.

J = Jack off

Yeah, he does. Often. Especially when he’s thinking about that time you sat in his lap and whispered in his ear. Uses his imagination vividly and definitely saves some of your pics.

K = Kink

Exhibitionism. The thrill of getting caught gets him going. Also, praise kink he lives for you calling him good. And he secretly wants you to ruin him just a little.

L = Location

Anywhere chaotic. Against a wall, in a closet at a party, on a piano he’s a vibe. But your bed after a long, intense day? His soft spot.

M = Motivation

You in a short skirt. You in his clothes. You being bratty. You not texting him back fast enough. He spirals fast, but it always ends up hot.

N = No

He’s not into anything that genuinely scares or hurts you. (Side eye)

He doesn't like sharing you, though he jokes about it, he wants to be the only guy inside you

O = Oral

Giving? Obsessed. He lives between your thighs. He takes his time, edge after edge, until you're grabbing his hair and begging. Receiving? He likes it messy, but watching your face is what really gets him off.

P = Pace

Unpredictable. Sometimes he’ll go painfully slow just to tease, other times it’s rough and desperate like he can’t get close enough. It depends on his mood… or yours.

Q = Quickie

Yes, and often. He thrives on them. The risk, the rush, the urgency chef’s kiss. Hallways, bathrooms, cars. He’s so down.

R = Risk

He’s a chaotic little daredevil. He’d try almost anything once. “What if we tried this?” is a phrase you hear a lot.

S = Stamina

Better than you expect. He can go a couple of rounds, especially if you’re encouraging him. But after an emotional night? It’s endless.

T = Toys

He’s curious and always down to experiment. Has a secret little drawer full of surprises. He wants to see how you react to all of it.

U = Unfair

He lives to tease. Texts you while you’re out, flirts when he knows you can’t act on it, and sends voice notes that are NOT safe for work.

V = Volume

Whiny. Breathless. Groans into your ear like he’s unraveling. When he’s really close? He starts moaning your name like a prayer.

W = Wild card

He loves recording you. Tastefully. With consent. Something about having it to watch later drives him crazy. It’s his private little obsession.

X = X-ray

It's pretty, On the longer side, slightly curved upward and very girthy He knows how to use it and loves your reaction every time.

Y = Yearning

High. Like, dangerously high. Even just seeing you in his shirt has him biting his lip. You’re the center of his universe and he wants you always.

Z = Zzz

Falls asleep with his arm slung over your waist, sometimes still inside you. Sleepy kisses and low murmurs until he’s out cold.

Finn~

A = Aftercare

Super soft king. He’ll help you clean up, pull you close under the covers, whisper compliments into your hair. Always checks if you’re okay, brings you snacks or water without you asking. He likes cleaning you off with a soft rag.

B = Body part

On you? Your ass. He loves grabbing it, standing behind you and pressing it against him.

On himself? His arms, he's actually fairly strong and he loves when he's carrying you and they're flexing

C = Cum

Finn’s the type to lose his breath, watching it drip down your stomach. He loves finishing where it leaves a mark.

Once got it in your hair, he wouldn't do that again unless you were in the shower though

D = Dirty secret

He’s had wet dreams about you before you even got together. One time, he may have accidentally moaned your name during a nap in front of the crew. They won't let him live it down

E = Experience

He acts like he is, but the first couple of times you had sex it went in the wrong hole atleast 5 times

F = Favorite position

Loves doing it from the side, laying behind you

Especially when it's late or early in the moring

G = Goofy

Totally teases. Slaps your butt, makes cheeky comments, but when it gets hot, he shifts into full smooth mode. He’ll crack jokes before and after, not during.

H = Hair

Groomed just enough, leaves a little for the rugged vibe. Smells good too like cologne and engine grease in the hottest way.

I = Intimacy

So much eye contact. Slow kisses between words. He’s the type to grab your hand during it, press it over his heart like, “feel that? That’s for you.”

J = Jack off

He does it, but not as often now that you’re around. When he does, he’s thinking of something specific like that one time in the car.

K = Kink

Car sex. Praise. Control. Danger. He gets off on the risk and the worship. Also has a thing for lingerie especially when it’s pink and just for him.

L = Location

The garage. The car. Against the hood. Backseat. Literally anywhere automotive-themed. Bonus points if you’re wearing his jacket.

M = Motivation

You looking at him from across the room? Instant switch flipped. Bonus: you in his hoodie, no pants. And when you call him driver boy? Done for.

N = No

He’ll never make you feel unsafe or unwanted. No to anything that makes you cry (unless it’s from pleasure). He checks in, every time.

O = Oral

He lives to go down on you. Obsessed. It’s like a sport to him. focused, determined, and he won’t stop ‘til you’re shaking. He also loves having your mouth on him but turns into a mess fast.

P = Pace

Likes to start slow and teasing, then gets fast and rough once he loses control. You’ll hear his breathing change first then it’s over.

Q = Quickie

Oh he’s a big fan. Behind a car. In the hallway. Against a wall before the crew shows up. Just give him a look, and he’s game.

R = Risk

He lives for risk. Getting caught? Hot. Car windows fogged up? Perfect. Public but private enough? Yes please.

S = Stamina

Surprisingly strong. Can go two, three rounds if you’re up for it. Gets turned on again fast if you keep touching him after.

T = Toys

He’s open-minded. Loves when you use them on yourself for him to watch. Might hold a viberator against you while kissing your neck just to hear you gasp.

U = Unfair

The biggest tease. Will act totally casual while his hand is in your panties, whisper something filthy in your ear then walk away like nothing happened.

V = Volume

He grunts. He growls. He swears under his breath. But when he’s close? Deep, needy moans with your name all over them.

W = Wild card

Once fingered you in the driver’s seat while making you keep eye contact through the rearview mirror. Still talks about it.

X = X-ray

Thick. Veiny. Heavy. And he knows how to use every inch. You definitely felt it before you saw it.

Y = Yearning

He’s needy in the best way. Always touching, always craving. Can’t go a day without tasting you. Gets irritable if he can’t.

Z = Zzz

Once he’s wrapped around you, he’s out like a light. But only after whispering something sweet against your ear.

[bugbitelover]

"I often see the phrase 'horse and man as one' in racing magazines or in historical novels, and it supposedly means that the rider can synchronize his or her movements with their horse, so that they're almost one entity. When I draw Gyro and the others on their horses, I feel like I really understand what that phrase means... When I sometimes get a racing panel to look just right, it feels good, because the figures seem to fit well with one another. It just leads me to believe that humans and horses are biologically (?) suited for one another." - My king Hirohiko Araki

People are always talking about Johnny and Gyro, but no one ever talks about their horses smh... So I hope you don't mind me talking about their horses for a bit - though I should probably focus on the huge essay I have due literally right now...

First, we have Gyro's Australian stock horse, Valkyrie, with it's great stamina, and weird quirk where it sways to the left every 8 breaths, allowing Dio to overtake him... Though is it just me, or does that just like, not make sense at all? I think the horse makes sense for Gyro, as he doesn't necessarily have a racing background or anything, but he was a surgeon, so I imagine he didn't have much trouble buying an expensive horse like this. Stock horses are known for their athleticism and intelligence, and you would surely need to be quite athletic and smart to handle those balls like Gyro does...

We also have Johnny's old 11 year old appaloosa, Slow Dancer, with it's ample riding experience, as noted by Gyro. That thing was evidently quite hard to tame, but good job Johnny, for being pragmatic! Also kind of sad, I wonder what happened to his racing horse. Now that I think of it, it's fairly likely that it could've passed away in the time between when Johnny got shot, and the Steel Ball Run race, which makes me kind of sad...

Diego's Anglo-Arabian, Silver Bullet, actually has a pretty little star shaped mark on it's forehead... Maybe this is me going crazy, but I see this as a subtle call back to the original jojo universe. OG Dio was residing in a body that wasn't his, taking the star along with it. Now I don't think Diego stole the horse or anything, but you can see it as being an extension of his body, as OG Dio's body was an extension of his actual head. Anglo Arabs dem lanky legs which makes them good for dressage, I mean, look at them... They are majestic... They are commonly used in cross-country, which... Sounds quite useful in a race across the country. Wait a second... Silver Bullet? Those are quite harmful to vampires, aren't they? Silver Bullet was last seen at the train tracks in Philadelphia... That's sad, isn't that, that's really sad. Poor Sovereign-less Soul... To go even further, alternate Diego's horse was last seen in the streets of New York...

Last but not least, we have ホットパンツの馬、ゲツアップ。Woops! This is bad! I can't let them know I'm a weeb! I slipped up a little there, what I meant to say was, Hot Pants's horse, Gets Up! It's a Mustang, and that's all we know... Mustangs are feral horses, that were brought to the Americas, and then just... Left, or something??? We don't know much about Hot Pants's horse... That's a shame, considering she's one of my favorite characters.

I never had that much interest in horses, until I read Steel Ball Run. I still actually don't know that much about them. I rode one once, because my aunt owned a few. That was nice, but I don't think I'll ever get the opportunity to ride one again. It's sad, but maybe it's just a phase. I ride my bike everywhere, and like to pretend she's a horse. I named her Pearl, and call her my humble steed. Who knows, maybe it's just a phase, sand that I desperately try and hold on to, only for it to slip through my fingers...

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

What would you say your least favorite episodes are? Which episodes would you say are the worst, from a storytelling and thematic standpoint? Are your two lists mostly the same, or almost completely different?

Miraculous has 130 episodes in the first five seasons and there's no way in hell that I'm going to try to rank them all, so I'll just look at the episode list and give you my personal picks for my least favorite episode and the episode that did the most damage to canon from each season. Please note that this is just what my memory serves up as the worst since I'm not rewatching the whole show to give each episode more thorough consideration. I'll also list any episodes I considered just for the fun of it and link to my posts on them (or more broad posts where I happened to talk about that episode in detail) if I remember that such posts exist.

Season 1

Least Favorite: The Pharaoh

Worst writing: Lady Wifi

Dishonorable Mentions: The Bubbler, Copycat, Kung Food, Gamer, Animan, Volpina

It was hard to pick episodes in season one because there aren't any truly major problems in this season. A lot of the episodes have weird morals or odd choices, but there's nothing narrative breaking and the odd morals are all pretty equally bad. I went with The Pharaoh for my personal least favorite because of how appallingly bad the Egyptology is. Anything that contributes to people having wildly inaccurate ideas about Ancient Egypt goes on my shit list. No, ancient Egyptians did not use magic spells to try to resurrect people! They didn't even believe in the resurrection of their own gods! Their beliefs were all focused on giving people a good afterlife, not on bringing people back to this life!

Lady Wifi got the label as worst written mostly for reasons external to the episode itself, though there are internal problems. The first reason is that this episode really leaned into the idea that Alya was obsessed with outing Ladybug and Chat Noir's identities to the world, leading her to do some questionable snooping. I would expect an episode like this to end with a lesson about respecting people's privacy, but it doesn't. The episode ends with Alya doing the same stuff she was doing at the start, just with a more benign target:

Alya: Wanna see my new smartphone? It puts my old phone to shame! Just look at these pics! Marinette: Huh? What's with all these photos of Adrien? Alya: Well... with a mask and a costume, don't you think he looks a little bit like Cat Noir?

You'd think that she'd be a little more impacted by the fact that her akumatized self almost handled her idol over to the bad guy! Note that I don't want Alya to feel guilty here, I just want her to look at her akuma and reflect a bit, leading to character growth. Something like Marinette asking Alya who her next suspect is and Alya announcing that she's done outing heroes. It's time to out a villain instead!

The small-scale side of this problem is that it leaves the episode without a clear lesson, making the episode feel kind of pointless. The large-scale side of the problem is that Alya's character genuinely needed a lesson around respecting privacy because she goes on to become Rena Rouge without the show ever addressing the issue of her identity-revealing obsession. I think that was a bad call for Alya's character and the show itself.

This was a missed opportunity to give Alya some majorly deserved focus that had nothing to do with her role as best friend to the lead. Season two introduced three new heroes, but Chloe was the only one given a multi-episode storyline. Nino and Alya just randomly got their miraculous in one-off episodes even though they're leads' best friends and the heroes who stick around. I would have liked to see them get storylines, too.

Based on season one, Alya could have been given her miraculous after an arc focused on earning Ladybug's trust. This could have even ended with Alya learning Marinette's identity if you want to keep that plot point. Instead the show just decided to pretend like the identity-revealing obsession was never a thing from season two on and Alya doesn't really do anything to earn a miraculous. She just gets one because she's Marinette's bff. I think Alya deserves better than that.

The other reason also relates to Alya's overall writing. If memory serves, Lady Wifi was the first case of Alya being written more like a tabloid journalist than an actual reporter, an issue that has plagued her character for the rest of the show because the writers cannot make up their minds as to which one she is! Does she investigate things or just believe whatever crap she's told? Pick a lane, give a reason for the nuance, or give her a character arc around being more discerning! It even makes some of her actions jarring like when she posts the kissing photo at the end of Oblivio. Alya, what are you doing? Those are your coworkers and you know that Ladybug hates the Ladynoir stuff!!!

The tabloid journalist to true reporter route could have been another way to play Alya's miraculous journey. Introduce Lila at the end of season one, have an Alya-focused arc around defeating Lila in season two, and let the arc end with Alya learning to be more discerning thereby earning her miraculous. The lesson would be something like it's good to have an active imagination, but we need to be careful to not conflate a good story with facts.

Season 2

Least Favorite: Queen Wasp (Queen's battle – Part 2)

Worst writing: The Collector

Dishonorable Mentions: Despair Bear, Prime Queen, Gigantitan, Glaciator, Anansi, Frozer, Reverser

This season had several strong contenders, but I picked the two I did because they're both narrative breaking on a scale the others can't even come close to.

Everything about the Chloe arc is a mess and Queen Wasp perfectly encapsulates the issue because nothing about it works in the overall narrative. Queen Wasp is the episode where Chloe gets her miraculous for the first time and it is the least interesting way you could possibly go about her big debut. It also introduces the running issue of the writers having no idea what they're doing with her character. This episode was written like Queen Bee was going to be a one off and yet she keeps coming back! This was also the first of many episodes that totally botched addressing Chloe's mommy issues. I could go on, but I doubt that I have to. See my Chloe deserves better tag if you really want more Chloe content.

The Collector gets the award for worst writing because it's the first instance of the show introducing a ton of things that should have been important to the overall narrative only for the writing to forget about these things after the end of the episode. Ladybug never tries to find out more about where Gabriel got the grimoire, Adrien forgets that the grimoire exists, and Lila knowing about the grimoire somehow has nothing to do with her figuring out that Gabriel is the butterfly holder. We're also introduced to the lore that the butterfly holder can akumatize themself which is total BS. This should have been the big villain Nathalie reveal! They could have officially confirmed that she knew everything by having her be the stand in Hawk Moth to protect Gabriel's identity.

Season 3

Least Favorite: Chameleon

Worst writing: Chat Blanc

Dishonorable Mentions: Backwarder, Animaestro, Bakerix, Reflekdoll, Oni-Chan, Desperada, Ikari Gozen, Timetagger, Ladybug, Miracle Queen

Notice how the list of dishonorable mentions keeps getting longer and longer as the show goes on? I have a sneaking suspicion that trend will continue.

I think the fandom has beaten the problems with Chameleon to death, so I'll keep this brief. This episode was the first time Lila's lying powers were super obvious and I hated that writing choice with a fiery passion. I also hated how Adrien never got a proper character arc about why it was wrong to stay quiet about lies. It's a good flaw for a celebrity to have, but flaws are only good if they're actually addressed in a timely manner. A fact that is extra true when you're writing for young children who generally aren't going to be able to follow a minor subplot that takes three seasons to resolve.

For Chat Blanc, see the power of love rant as that covers my main issues with this episode. Since that post has the main issues covered, let's go over two more minor issues! The first is the way Tom and Sabine were played here. One of my favorite fix-it fics was spawned because canon had them do nothing after they saw their teenage daughter threatened by a powerful adult. Good parents don't do that! Let them be good parents!

Adrien keeping his identity from Marinette is the other mark against Chat Blanc, but I do think canon could have made that work. The problem is less that he did it and more that canon acted like it was no big deal. Letting him wrestle with wanting to address the partial reveal, but also wanting to respect Ladybug's no-reveal rule would have heavily mitigated the issue. Having Marinette ask Adrien out would have done even more to solve the problem because then it doesn't feel like he's taking advantage of the situation (which is a common and understandable complaint that I've seen), but heaven forbid that we let the girl ask the boy out!

Season 4

Least Favorite: Ephemeral

Worst writing: Strikeback

Dishonorable Mentions: Truth, Lies, Gang of Secrets, Mr. Pigeon 72, Furious Fu, Sole Crusher, Queen Banana, Optigami, Sentibubbler, Rocketear, Wishmaker, Hack-San, Glaciator 2, Gabriel Agreste, Kuro Neko, Penalteam, Qilin

...yes, I did list pretty much every episode in the season. What's funny is that I don't necessarily like the ones I didn't list, they just didn't feel like major problems for the show or get under my skin to the level of things like Qilin. Meanwhile some of the problem children had parts I genuinely liked, but still made the list because of some major issue I couldn't overlook. For example, I like the ending of Glaciator 2, but think the first half of the episode has a lot of major problems.

Ephemeral almost got both spots because it has so many issues, but the timeline does get reset at the end, so I decided I'd give the win to the episode that's in the canon timeline. My biggest issue with Ephemeral is the power of love crap, but I'm once again linking to the power of love rant for details on that.

That's not the only major issue with this episode, though. Marinette's plan for how to reveal Chat Noir's identity was both horrendous and totally unnecessary. If time is going to reset, then just tell Chat Noir the truth of what you're planning! Then he can give informed consent on the issue! You could even have him go talk to Luka solo without a time reset coming into play!

Speaking of Luka, I wasn't a fan of Luka continuing to lie to Ladybug about the fact that he knew the secret identities. He carries a small part of the blame here for not stopping Marinette's crazy plan when he had the power to do that. Su-Han also gets a spot on the shit list but he basically lives there so that's not worth digging into.

If Strikeback had led into a really cool season five, then I'd probably give it some slack, but Gabriel getting the kwamis was pretty freaking pointless so no mercy!!!! This episode was a writing disaster that makes no freaking sense! There's the obvious problem that the writers had to hand Felix the win by breaking the lore for Ladybug's yo-yo, but the issues go well beyond that. We also get Ladybug giving a rant about flaws that the season never actually gave her and Ladybug losing because of an evil twin and not because of anything she actually did wrong, once again undermining her apology because it feels like her blaming herself for something that wasn't her fault instead of her owning up to actual flaws that cost her something. Add in the fact that the real reason for the loss was the identities which are still a secret as of season six and this episode can go die in the fiery heart of the sun!

Extra points off for making Felix seem interesting and then squandering all of that by turning him into Kagami's discount Adrien consolation prize. Extra extra points off for letting Adrien find Felix's stupid spyglass and then using that for nothing in season five. There were so many good setups here but a setup is only as good as its payoff and the payoffs were all shit!

Season 5

Least Favorite: Derision

Worst writing: The final parts one and two

Dishonorable Mentions: Every other episode in the season.

In season four, I said that I liked a lot of the episodes on the dishonorable mentions list, they just had some fatal flaw that got them on the list. The same is not true here. I didn't enjoy a single episode in season five. Only positive moment I can think of is the hand raise scene in Kwamis Choice. That was cute, but not cute enough to save that disaster of an episode.

I've ranted about Derision a lot and shared many posts from others, so I'll just link to one of those rants and one of those posts, then give a quick tl;dr here. This episode makes Marinette look unhinged and is a massive retcon that makes no freaking sense. It's also the only time Miraculous has genuinely upset me on an emotional level. Other episodes have worse messages, but this showed such a fundamental lack of writing ability and critical thinking skills that it got to me. I doubt that anything could have made me keep watching the show after the disaster that was the season five final, but Derision was where I first decided that season five was it for me. After Derision aired I stopped watching the episodes as they came out and just waited for the whole season to be streaming because I legitimately didn't care anymore. I knew wherever we were heading was going to be a bad time.

The final gets another link to the power of love rant because that's my biggest issue with it, but there's obviously a wealth of problems at work here. No, Marinette didn't win because Gabriel changed his mind. He rewrote the universe to his desired state! That's a hands down win. Also, his reason for changing his mind was laughably bad. A video? Seriously? Terrible writing. Adrien being lied to was terrible. Adrien being kept completely out of the final fight was terrible. The resistance doing nothing useful was terrible. The special-only characters showing up was confusing. Emilie dying was boring. Saving Nathalie was boring. The list goes on and on. Just a total embarrassment of a season final with bonus embarrassment from the fact that this was initially the series finale meaning that anything the later seasons do to imply that this was bad is basically a retcon.

[scarameownya]

im curious so feel free to reply or reblog or anything, but

do you ever feel like a character is literally tailored to trap you in, like they just fits into everything you like

for example for me-- wanderer at first has this giant ass hat in phase where i was obsessed with hat then later on when he got redesigned, he wore blue (my favorite color), is anemo (my fav element), is catalyst (my fav weapon) and can fly (my deepest obsession ever since i was a child)

and it worked 💀

[hollow-lime-green]

You mentioning Gojo being a masochist made me curious, Satosugu kink headcanons?

i had to think about this for a minute lol, because there's definitely a difference between 'headcanons' and 'what i would like to read'. and i'll read, like, anything.

lame answer, i know: in canon, i think you could really do anything with them, especially post time-skip. they're both special-grade sorcerer crazy, and i think that lends itself well to all kinds of power play and extreme physical sensations.

cult leader geto's gotta be into some real freak shit. greatest hits: exhibitionism, curse sex (yes I am thinking of tentacles obviously but like, there could be others), lots of sex toys, and of course, group sex (many such cult leaders).

there's then a split based on how you read geto's sincerity as a cult leader (is he actually as unhinged as he acts?), because i'd say it's kind of hard to tell. that's the jjk0/jjk characterization heavy split. there is definitely a d/s component here, but he could kind of fall on either end of the dynamic. with d, i can see him going really hard into petplay, slave/master, and degradation/humiliation kinks. with s, i can see painplay, heavy bondage, and some level of self degradation.

with his nature in jjk0, i feel like even as a sub he'd have that aura of being in control. or at least, in being kind of unshakeable. gojo can do whatever he wants, but it's still playing into geto's hands because he's whipped (maybe in more ways than one).

post-ts gojo, at his power peak, i think would really lean into kinks that manufacture vulnerability: heavy bondage, sensory deprivation, overstimulation, etc.

my favorite headcanon, which I actually have a WIP for, but will likely not see the light of day for many many moons, if ever (not because I don't like it but because i have a looooot of other writing that is higher priority): gojo would totally be into CNC (consensual non-consent, i.e. rape roleplay). it's the forced helplessness of it all; he's a perfect character for it.

gojo has strong RCT established, so I also think he'd be on the extreme end of masochism. it doesn't pose a real risk to him, and he's realistically not going to ever feel pain unless he arranges for it to happen. this also gets fun when you combine it with the sensory deprivation. asphyxiation fits in here too.

anyway that's all canonverse adult stuff. for FIYM specifically, they're much softer and suguru's not Like That. these are some of my favorites there:

satoru: submission (obviously lmao), lingerie (wearing), light bondage (tied), strength kink

suguru: sensory deprivation (we'll get there soon-ish), light bondage (tying), overstim (giving)

both: body worship (giving), praise kink

[julihlaufey]

William Afton x Strawberry Reader Headcanons (SFW + NSFW) 🍰

It's three in the morning and I've been thinking since college about how William would act with his controversially younger girlfriend with a fixation and strawberry scent.

⁠・ The character uses feminine pronouns and has a biologically female body.

⁠・ This isn't my content and English isn't my first language, but I decided to give it a try! ⁠♡

🍓 When you walked into the office for your first day of work, the scent of your perfume reached you before you did. William looked up quickly to see where it was coming from. And from that day on, strawberry is his favorite smell.

🍰 Strawberry has become his trademark and William loves to spoil his girl with everything strawberry he can find. A cat in a plush strawberry suit in the plush machine? He'll try to catch it. A new printed dress? It's yours. A pair of red shoes that match the red outfit you wore on Tuesday? He already bought them.

🍓 Will is a simple guy. He memorizes everything that makes you happy and puts it into practice. If you ask him, he doesn't know anything about you. He never bothered to research. But the truth is that he has memorized every outfit you have. He knows your combinations, your favorite pieces. And he loves to fill you with gifts like strawberry pendant necklaces, earrings, bracelets. Everything. And everything matches. It's his personal hobby.

🍰 When he sees a strawberry dessert, William automatically buys it for you. He arrives at the office and silently places the package on your desk. Like the devil flees from the cross, Will sits in the chair and doesn't even look at your face. Only when you've stopped trying to thank him and make fun of the fact that he was cute, he looks at you over the top of his glasses, seeing how you enjoyed the sweet.

🍓 And following this line, their displays of affection include gifts. He loves buying you everything. One time, he got into a fight in line at a bakery because You've been sick and can't go to work for a mere three days. So Will thought it would be a great idea to bring you something to eat during your break as a "silent welcome back." A man in front of him tried to buy the candy before him and William looked at him so crookedly that the guy dreams of him to this day.

🍰 He always complains about everything. William is a professional complainer. He complains about the strawberry smell in his car, how over the top the decor is, how his clothes always follow an annoying pattern, "Even your keychain has a stupid strawberry?" but the truth is that he loves all of it. He loves everything that makes you you. And everything that made him never look at a strawberry the same way again.

🍓 He LOVES the smell of your hair. Your strawberry hair scent makes William go crazy. And whenever you're in bed, he'll snuggle up to you and fall asleep smelling your sweet scent.

🍰 He gave you a collection of bows. You don't quite understand what he sees in them, but ever since he met William, he's loved seeing you in bows.

(NSFW) 🔞

🍰 Ever since he discovered that her intimate scent is strawberry, he's been crazy. Afton already loved the idea of being able to delight himself and eat her pussy as if it were his last meal on earth. He'd always daydreamed about it at work and you'd always felt him eating you with his eyes while the paperwork on his desk waited. But after he caught his first whiff of it, this guy became the biggest strawberry fan in the world.

🍓 He buys you lots of themed lingerie. Red, black, even green in your favorite shade. He secretly thinks it's cute how obsessed you are with the fruit and wants to bring that personality of yours to bed. He bought you every printed set he could find and some lingerie with lace and details that he will be very sorry to rip later.

🍰You are his strawberry girl. And even though he likes to call you that in private, he loves it when you remind him of it in public, even if he doesn't admit it. His face turns red as a strawberry every time you come up to him reminding him of this nickname at work or in front of acquaintances. But deep down, he likes everyone to know that you are his.

🍓 He gets excited just by smelling you. Strawberry has become his signature scent, so smelling you is like getting hard right away. When he was talking to a client once, he felt his dick tighten so much in his pants, just because you were next to him and that smell penetrated his nose. When the customer left, William could only curse as he saw how You left him hard. That day he didn't even get up for lunch.

🍰 Despite your small car and the "sickening smell" according to him, William has the goal of fucking you in that car. He wants to take away your innocence by staining the seat with your juices and his cum. He often finds himself making you squirt in that car just by frenziedly fingering your clit and sinking right into your g-spot.

[fairytales-and-folklore]

Chapter 6: Pauses, Then Says, "You're My Best Friend"

Willow's been a little quieter lately, and it's got Hunter worried. To anyone who hasn't spent the last five and a half years memorizing her every quirk and micro-expression, listening for the telltale lilt in her voice to determine whether she's angry or just hungry, sad or just sleepy, it'd be nearly impossible to clock the subtle shift in her demeanor. 

After all, she's still perfectly cordial toward him, still smiles at him the same amount she always does…but there's a tightness to the corners of her lips that makes him feel like she's forcing it, a frustrated crease that sits between her eyebrows, growing deeper with each increasingly frequent moment of silence that stretches between them.

It's taking everything in him not to automatically assume he's done something wrong, anxious brain performing a series of illogical gymnastics as he overthinks every interaction, screaming at him to do something drastic, like fall to his knees and beg for her forgiveness, or avoid interacting with her altogether in some self-destructive effort to give her space. 

But there's definitely something going on with her, and late one evening midway through April, Hunter finally finds out why.

He's sitting in a corner of the couch with his sketchbook propped open on one knee, trying and failing to concentrate on his latest project, when Willow walks through the front door looking utterly exhausted, cheeks smudged with streaks of potting soil, glasses flecked with rain, little yellow raincoat and matching rainboots swishing and squeaking as she rustles out of them and dumps them in a pile on the living room floor.

On cue, she makes a beeline for the kitchen, ceramic clinking in the cabinets as she searches for her favorite mug, when she hears a soft noise behind her, and turns around to find Hunter tilting his head meaningfully toward the steaming cup of tea already waiting for her on the coffee table.

"Thanks, Hunter," she says, breathing his name like a sigh of relief as she strolls into the living room and gathers the mug between her hands, the first genuine smile he's seen from her in days lighting up her face as she brings the teacup to her lips and takes a long, slow sip, letting it warm her from the inside out. But the moment she pulls it away, there's that fake, tight smile again, shoulders hunched practically to her ears as she settles in on the opposite side of the couch and curls herself into a tightly-wound ball, staring straight ahead into nothingness as she sips her tea in quiet contemplation.

He's been holding himself back from saying anything, not wanting to pry, opting to wait for her to come to him when she's ready, but he just can't stand to see her like this anymore. And now he knows he hasn't been imagining things, because this mood is anything but subtle. If she was a character on The Boiling Isles like in their favorite book series, her magic would be going haywire and there would be thorny vines curling around her ankles right about now.

"Hey," he says softly, reaching out to place a tentative hand on top of hers. Willow glances up at him, the tense line of her shoulders relaxing ever so slightly at his touch. "Want to tell me what happened?"

"What?" she practically squeaks — another tell of hers that lets him know she's either nervous or lying or nervous about lying. "Nothing happened. I'm fine."

Hunter levels her with a disbelieving frown.

"Willow," he says, soft but insistent. "Come on. I know you. You've been holding in a lot, haven't you?"

Willow sucks in a sharp breath, lower lip trembling as she struggles to make up her mind between lying to this boy who knows her too well, putting up walls and pretending everything's fine so she doesn't have to break that delicate facade of Reliable Old Willow, and letting a little bit of sunlight slip through the cracks in her walls, allowing herself to be vulnerable and admit she's struggling for once.

It's the look in his eyes that finally tips her over the edge, soft sunlit fondness and scorching protectiveness melting her resolve. Willow lets out a long, slow, heavy sigh, sets her half-sipped Frond Memories mug back down on the coffee table, and turns to face him.

"There's this guy that keeps coming into the shop," she says, upper lip curling in disgust, and already, Hunter feels himself start to tense up. "So far, I've been handling it, dodging his attempts to ask me out, ducking into the break room whenever I see him coming. But lately I've been working all the closing shifts on my own, and he's been staying 'til the very last minute, lingering in the parking lot when I go to lock up for the night."

Hunter lets out a strangled breath, hands curling into fists at his sides.

"He really creeped me out tonight," she admits in a small voice, breath coming out shaky on the exhale. "When I tried to slip out the back, he cornered me in the alley and wouldn't let me leave until I agreed to go out with him. In the end, the only excuse he'd listen to was 'sorry, I have a boyfriend.'"

Hunter's brain short-circuits for a moment, overloaded with a flurry of warring emotions — anger at this creep for making Willow feel uncomfortable, the urge to hunt him down and kick his ass conflicting with the desire to make himself as soft and soothing as possible so she'll feel safe and protected when he scoops her up and holds her in his arms vs. complete and utter devastation at the startling revelation that she's had a boyfriend this whole time and he didn't even know.

"But of course I don't actually have a boyfriend," Willow groans a moment later, and the vice around Hunter's heart loosens its grip. "So he's going to know it's a lie sooner or later."

Willow heaves a frustrated sigh, reaching for her tea and taking a slow, steadying sip, hoping the chamomile will help calm her nerves.

The words fall out of his mouth before he can think to stop them.

"What if I was your boyfriend?"

Willow chokes on her tea, spluttering around a mouthful of what's supposed to be soothing sleepy-time chamomile as she turns her wide-eyed gaze on Hunter.

"What?" she asks, soft and disbelieving.

"Uh, I mean—" Hunter falters, blush creeping up the back of his neck like a heatwave. "What if I pretended to be your boyfriend?" he quickly course-corrects. "Came by the shop at closing time and walked you home every night? I know you're more than capable of handling yourself, but everyone needs a little backup sometimes. I could be that for you. Keep you company on your walk home."

Willow blinks a few times, giving her whiplashed heart a moment to catch up.

"You would do that for me?" she asks softly.

"Of course," he says automatically, leaving no room for doubt as he leans in a little bit closer, draping his arms across the back of the couch and tucking his chin into the curve of his elbow, gazing up at her with that soft, something-close-to-smitten look he always seems to reserve just for her. "I'd do anything for you."

Willow stares at him, momentarily lost in the way the fairy lights strung around their living room glitter like gold in his eyes.

"Thanks, Hunter," she says, and all at once, she feels the weight of all the stress she's been harboring these past few days lift — still there, but lighter, like someone else is sharing the burden. 

The smile on her lips feels foreign after all this time spent forcing it, but it falls back into familiar muscle memory as Willow scoots a little bit closer and curls into Hunter's side, cuddled under the warmth of his arm and the weight of her handmade quilt as he carefully drapes it across both of their shoulders, face igniting in a faint pink blush as she attempts to hide her dimpled cheeks behind a long sip of tea.

• • •

The next day, Hunter shows up at The Golden Garden three hours before closing (he may or may not skip his evening class) spending his spare time perusing perennials in the big open-sky garden at the back, popping out of random aisles brandishing a gardening plow like a magic staff, and poking his head between the jungle-like leafy greens with his tongue sticking out, just to make Willow laugh as she bustles about the shop, all the while keeping a vigilant ear out for the telltale sound of a tinkling bell and the voice of a creepy cat-caller. 

On cue, the asshole in question shows up right as Willow is about to close up the register and clock out for the evening, sulking and passive aggressively asking why Willow's "boyfriend" (the sarcastic air quotes evident in his tone) isn't here to take her home. 

She's standing with her back to the aisles, keys clutched in her hand like a weapon, glaring daggers at the man blocking her only exit, when she hears a familiar voice from right behind her, and all at once, her whole body relaxes like a sigh of relief.

"Hey sweetheart," Hunter greets her in a tone so soft and loving, it sends a pang of longing straight to Willow's heart, melting into his embrace as he wraps his arms around her waist and nuzzles into her shoulder. "Ready to go?"

"Absolutely," she replies, turning in his arms and standing on her tiptoes to press a kiss against his cheek that leaves the both of them blushing deeper shades of red than all the roses and carnations that line the shop windows.

"Thanks, Hunter," she says in a shiver-stirring whisper, before pulling away to hang her apron on one of the racks behind the register. 

Hunter watches her go, heat radiating from the spot where she'd just kissed him all the way down to his toes, momentarily forgetting everything but the way she'd felt in his arms just now…when the very reason he's here in the first place reminds him with a loud, impatient sigh and a disapproving click of his tongue, and like the flip of a switch, Hunter's features fall from soft and smitten to a deadly simmering rage as he turns his narrow-eyed glare on the unfortunate excuse for a man standing in front of him.

"The shop is closed," Hunter informs the creep in a clipped tone that skates along the edge of a threat, arching his eyebrows in a silent fuck around and find out when the asshole opens his mouth to argue.

Before he can say anything, Willow comes bounding back to the front of the store all bundled up in her raincoat and winter scarf, falling into step beside Hunter and slipping her hand into his as easily as if they'd done this a thousand times. 

The creep stares down at their entwined hands, upper lip curling in disgust.

"Him?" he scoffs, looking Hunter up and down in flaw-seeking appraisal before quickly turning his gaze back on Willow, loathsome to leering. "Seriously? Over me?"

"Yeah, him," Willow replies cooly, giving Hunter's hand a gentle three-pulse squeeze that sends a sugar rush swimming through his veins. "Over literally anyone else in the world."

And Hunter knows it's just for show, but he can't help the way his whole body ignites in a blissful warmth at the sound of those words, spreading from his chest to the tips of his fingers, wrapped around the soft embrace of Willow's hand.

"But especially over you," she adds with a venomous lilt, going right for the jugular, and Hunter can't help but laugh at the positively gobsmacked look on the other man's face.

The creep levels them with one final glare before turning on his heel and storming out of the shop. Before the bells overhead have even finished chiming, Willow dashes to the front door and turns the lock, leaning her back against it and breathing out on a sigh of relief.

"You were amazing," she says as she strides over to him and slips her hand back into his, beaming up at him like he just fought off a dozen fire-breathing dragons for her, like she wasn't her own knight in shining armor just now.

"Was I?" Hunter huffs out around a half-hysterical little chuckle, heat flooding his face at the word amazing. "I mean, I didn't really do anything. You were the one who—" he pauses, brain severing connection to his mouth the moment it finishes processing the fact that Willow is holding his hand, staring down at it like she just performed a spectacular bit of magic, marveling at the way her fingers fit so comfortably between his own.

Willow's gaze travels down to join his, lips parting in a surprised little oh, like she'd done it entirely by accident and only just realized.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I kind of just—" she falters, cheeks heating in embarrassment. "I guess we don't really need to hold hands anymore."

She starts to tug her hand out of his grasp, but Hunter gives her palm a gentle squeeze and holds on tighter.

"I mean, I'd like to," he blurts out. Watches as her eyebrows jump to her hairline, gaze softening to that same sweet, hopeful look she'd given him the night he'd nearly kissed her when she had the flu. Panics, because what if he's reading too much into it again, projecting his own delusions and wishful thinking? Chickens out and course-corrects.

"Might— might be good to keep up the illusion, you know?" he says with a nervous chuckle. "For a little while longer. In case the creep comes back."

He aims for casual, but judging by the look on Willow's face, he's pretty sure he speeds right past the bullseye and straight into the surrounding trees.

"Mhm, mhm," Willow agrees, smug smile curling across her lips. "That's a very good point. Plus, it is cold and rainy out there. We could keep each other's hands warm."

"Although…" she adds, frowning as her logic catches on another snag in their rather transparent hand-holding scheme. "I guess that's what gloves are for."

"Oh, I uh— I forgot to bring mine, actually," he says, even though he knows the moment he turns around, she'll see them sticking out of his back pocket.

"Oh," she says, mildly surprised. Hunter doesn't go anywhere without his father's gloves, especially now she's patched them. "Well, your hands are warmer than my mittens," she concedes with an eager smile, hastily stowing them back into the pockets of her raincoat.

"That might just be the highest praise you've ever given me, considering everything you make is like, Titan-tier levels of cozy," he tells her, free hand curling around the plush knitted scarf bundled around his neck.

"Complimenting me on my craft with a reference to our favorite nerdy book series?" Willow giggles, practically glowing with pride as she beams up at him. "You might just be the best pretend-boyfriend ever."

Hunter is almost glad of the fact that she turns away from him just then, because the giddy smile and absolutely volcanic blush that blossoms across his face as he trips over his own feet to follow after her must be embarrassingly goofy to behold.

They wend their way through the winding aisles, Willow's hand guiding him like a lantern through the darkest parts of the forest, until finally, they reach the back entrance, a small unassuming cottage door leading out onto a little cobblestoned alleyway a side street away from the main vein of the town.

"Shall we?" she asks, blinking up into the misty gray-blue sky above them, gentle raindrops falling from the overhang and splashing at their feet.

"Lead the way, Captain," he replies, grip tightening in hers as they hold their breath to brace for the cold and step out into the night.

Together, they make their way through the heart of their sleepy little college town, storefront lights flickering like fireflies wishing them goodnight as their owners close up shop for the evening, brick-laid facades and winding spires sticking out like crooked teeth in the mouth of the midnight sky, chimneys sighing great big puffs of smoke as their residents huddle around the hearth to keep warm amidst the chilly rainsoaked air.

And Hunter? Well, Hunter hardly notices the cold, even when his cheeks grow rosy and the tips of his ears start to go numb, even though his winter jacket and thick woolen scarf are soaked through to his bones, a steady warmth like every cup of Willow's favorite tea brewing inside his chest at the feeling of her hand wrapped around his own.

And if the two of them keep holding hands all the way back to their apartment, well past the point of needing to keep up this little charade of theirs…well, that's neither here nor there.

Nearly an hour later (because two very stupid someones decided to take the scenic route) they arrive at the front steps, breaking apart only when they have to reach for their keys, breathing a sigh of relief as the warmth and coziness of their apartment envelops them.

"So I'm thinking we order in tonight," Hunter proposes, shrugging out of his soaking wet jacket and draping it over the radiator before offering to help Willow out of hers.

"You read my mind," she replies, smiling up at him in thanks.

"Pho and boba?" he suggests, thankful their favorite place stays open so late. "My treat."

"Ooh, yes please!" Willow exclaims, rainboots squeaking across the kitchen tiles as she races to grab the takeout menu stuck to the fridge — right next to the dozen or so photo booth reels the two of them seem to have collected on countless adventures to theme parks and midnight movie premieres over the years, little clusters of green and gold heart-shaped stickers pressed along their peeling edges.

"Best. Pretend. Boyfriend. Ever," she giggles, dialing the number listed at the bottom of the menu and pressing the phone to her ear. Hunter pauses in the doorframe, watching as she politely rattles off their usual order by heart, even remembering to ask for Hunter's favorite off-the-menu blend of jasmine green for his Thai tea.

"Hey, Wills?" he asks the moment she's off the phone, nervous hands tugging at the knitted scarf around his neck — dark green with little gold flecks, a Christmas present Willow had gifted him the first year the Park Pack and the Clawthorne Clan started celebrating all their holidays together.

"Do you ever wonder—" he pauses, willing the question that's been burning in the back of his mind all evening to take that final leap out of his throat.

Do you ever wonder what it would be like if we didn't have to pretend? 

You're my best friend. We already live together. Cook together. Read together. Share meals and stories about our day. Haven't missed a single 'goodnight' text in over five years, with the exception of this past year, and that's only because now, we say it in person.

What if we took that final leap? What if we stopped pretending, and I was your boyfriend for real?

Willow looks at him expectantly, stock still like she's holding her breath, waiting for the next words out of his mouth, gazing at him with that soft, hopeful expression that never fails to make his heart feel like it's going to beat right out of his chest.

"Do you ever wonder—" Hunter repeats on a stammer, swallowing against a sandpaper throat. Closes his eyes and exhales on a heavy sigh, nerves getting the better of him for the third time in as many weeks. Swerves and spits out the first inane thing that comes to mind. "—if narwhals exist, then maybe unicorns do too?"

Willow's hopeful expression falters on a dispirited sigh, but she quickly recovers, plastering on a cheerful smile as she shucks off her rainboots and strolls over to the living room to curl up on her side of the couch.

"Absolutely," she says with a smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes, breathing out on a steadying four-beat exhale as she struggles to get her heart rate to calm back down. "Also, mermaids are totally real."

"Totally," Hunter agrees with a half-hearted sigh, grabbing the takeout menu from the counter and sliding it back underneath the two little green and gold heart-shaped refrigerator magnets Willow had insisted on buying for them the first week they'd moved in together.

Cursing his own cowardice, Hunter makes his way over to the couch, dropping down onto the cushions with another wearying sigh. Chances a glance over to see her sitting with her feet nestled primly beneath her, chin tucked into a throw pillow as she hugs it close to her chest, staring at the little spinning beach ball on the loading screen as she waits for her laptop to connect to their tv. Five agonizing minutes tick by in silence, the only sound the soft click click click of the remote as Willow shuffles through their streaming apps in search of the perfect movie for their takeout night tradition.

"Oh, I can't decide," she sighs a moment later, finally breaking the silence between them. 

"You choose," she delegates, handing Hunter the remote without taking her eyes off the slow-scrolling carousel of new releases both of them know they're never going to watch.

Hunter furrows his brow in concentration, flipping through their joint list of favorites and trying to decide which time-honored classic they haven't overplayed to the point of exhaustion, when the obvious choice hits him like a night fury through a thicket of trees. Willow's eyes light up the instant the title rolls across the screen, perking up and putting on her best narrator voice as she recites the opening lines by heart.

"'This is Berk. It's twelve days north of hopeless and a few degrees south of freezing to death. It's located solidly on the meridian of misery,'" she intones with a giggling lilt, and Hunter can't help but watch her, fond smile threatening to leave permanent dimples in his cheeks as his chin sinks into the palms of his hands. 

"'My village — in a word: sturdy. It's been here for seven generations, but every single building is new. We have fishing, hunting, and a charming view of the sunset. The only problems are the pests. You see, most places have mice or mosquitos. We have—'"

Hunter puffs out his chest, putting on his most impressive theatrical voice as he chants the title word along with her.

"'Dragons!'"

"Ha! Yes!" Willow cheers, holding out her hand for a high five. 

Hunter misses the memo, fingers slotting between hers as easily as they'd done on the walk home from the flower shop. 

The two of them stare down at their entwined hands for a moment, neither daring to move for several long seconds, until Willow clears her throat and Hunter promptly removes his hand, awkwardly placing it on the edge of his knee and drumming his fingers in a nervous staccato.

Willow's gaze drops to her lap where her own hands sit neatly folded, fingertips twitching with the urge to reach back out between them and tangle their fingers together again. She hadn't realized how hard it would be to go back to being just friends, now she's had a taste of what it's like to be his girlfriend…even if it was just for show. Which reminds her…

"Thanks again for coming by the shop and walking me home today," she says, lips curving into a small smile as she glances over at him. "You're a really good pretend-boyfriend."

"Really?" Hunter perks up, cheeks blazing bright pink as he stumbles over a nervous chuckle. "Well, you're the best pretend-girlfriend I've ever had."

"I'm the only pretend girlfriend you've ever had," Willow snickers, lips pulling into a frown as she adds, "At least, I hope I am."

"Definitely," Hunter laughs. "But still the best."

Willow hums thoughtfully. 

"I'll bet you'd make a really good real boyfriend," she says, soft smile turning bittersweet as she hastily tacks on, "…to someone."

Hunter's racing heart stutters, plummeting to his stomach at the thought of being with anyone but her. But judging by the downward twist of Willow's lips, she doesn't seem too keen on the idea either. Hunter's heart leaps right back up into his throat and stays there in a pounding nauseous-nervous-excited kind of way.

"Isn't it kind of funny how we've never actually had any real boyfriends or girlfriends before?" Willow ventures, glancing sideways at Hunter with an oh-so-innocent, casually curious expression on her face. "I wonder why that is."

Of course, Hunter knows why he hasn't, but Willow…well, Willow could have anyone she wanted. Hunter's stomach gives a painful lurch at the very idea. He considers himself very lucky to have avoided that particular brand of heartache over the years — at least, if Willow ever dated anyone, or even had a crush on anyone, Hunter never knew about it. And with Luz being the world's worst secret-keeper in history, he's fairly certain he would have heard something by now.

Then again, his nosy little sister, self-appointed rom-com queen and matchmaker extraordinaire, has somehow never caught on to his less than subtle feelings for her long-time best friend. So, what if…

"Well…was there anyone you ever wanted to…?" he asks, swallowing against the pulse point pounding in his throat.

"There is this one guy," Willow confesses in a small voice, soft smile tugging at the corners of her lips as she casts her eyes to her lap. "He's someone I've known for a while now. Someone I know would be perfect for me, if only he felt the same way…"

Hunter forgets how to breathe, heart beating against his ribcage like the wings of a wild animal as he hangs on her every word, waiting for the impossible. 

Is this real? Is he dreaming? Is she really about to tell him the one thing he's been dying to hear all these years? All the times he ever imagined this moment — he can't believe it's finally happening.

"But alas, The Golden Guard is a fictional character," Willow heaves a melodramatic sigh. "If only I could meet someone just like him," she says, slowly casting her gaze back toward Hunter, who looks like he's about to pass out, red in the face like he just ran the mile in gym. Willow arches her eyebrows meaningfully, and watches Hunter's blush deepen until it's almost purple, lips curling into a smile smug enough to rival the Cheshire Cat as she turns her attention back toward the television screen.

"Ooh look, it's my favorite part! 'Thanks for nothing, you useless reptile!'" she giggles, and then proceeds to hum along to the entirety of Test Drive, twirling her fingers in the air like an overzealous orchestra conductor.

It takes Hunter a good twenty minutes to calm his jackhammering heart, legs made of jelly as he stumbles over to the front door to collect their takeout delivery, accidentally telling the driver, "thanks, you too!" when he tells them he hopes he and his girlfriend enjoy their romantic dinner date.

Despite the rollercoaster of emotions simmering under the surface of both their skins, the two of them eventually manage to settle into their usual routine, spending a quiet, cozy evening curled up on the couch together, filling up on Pho Ga and tapioca pearls swimming in a sea of jasmine Thai tea as they make their way through a collection of their favorite films, falling asleep somewhere between Tangled and Howl's Moving Castle, wrapped up in the comforting warmth and weight of Willow's handmade quilt.

• • •

Falling asleep on the couch during movie marathons isn't exactly a new thing for the two of them…but waking up in each other's arms certainly is. 

The first thing Hunter sees when he opens his eyes early the next morning is a charming view of their kitchen, blurred around the edges by a wild sea of braid-crimped curls, dark as a starless night sky. There's a comforting weight pressed between the softest curves of his body, a gentle snoring like the buzzing of sleepy honeybees rumbling against his ribcage. 

He breathes in and is met with the soothing scents of potting soil, springtime rainfall, and floral shampoo, and glances down to find a small figure draped across his entire frame like a cuddly starfish, head pillowed in the center of his chest, one leg carefully nestled between his own. 

(Her signature gold-framed glasses are suspiciously absent, carefully folded and perched along the edge of the coffee table. Hunter tries not to think too hard about what that might mean.)

It's truly a testament to how comfortable he is that he doesn't keel over from a heart attack right then and there, self-sabotaging brain blissfully silent for once as it slows all logic to a standstill and simply lets him exist. (Perhaps he's already dead and just having an out-of-body experience? This certainly feels like heaven.)

Normally he'd already be up and halfway out the door by now, but there isn't a single part of him that's willing to wake her or leave the comfort of their cozy little cocoon. Oh no, guess I'm stuck here, Hunter muses, big goofy grin spreading across his face as he settles back against the throw pillow Willow had spent the better part of last night cuddling, one arm wrapped around her waist, the other gently carding through her hair, watching the steady rise and fall of her breathing as she softly dozes against his chest, giddy heartbeat her lullaby, counting the freckles dusted across the bridge of her nose like little stars made of brown sugar cinnamon, until it all starts to blur together with the heavy fluttering of his eyelashes, and for the first time in years, Hunter lets himself drift back into unconsciousness and sleep in past the crack of dawn.

They wake several hours later, somewhere between brunch and afternoon tea, both of them stirring at the same time, blinking blearily in the gold-kissed sunlight streaming through the living room windows.

"Hi," he says softly, smiling down at her.

"Hi," she giggles, beaming up at him.

He's not quite ready to address the intimacy of what they're doing, scared the blissful bubble might burst and cost him the chance of ever getting to do this again, so instead, Hunter blunders onward in this momentary absence of panic and self-doubt, and treats it like it's a perfectly normal thing, waking up with your best friend slash roommate slash the love of your life wrapped up in your arms after you'd just spent the night pretending to be her boyfriend, and does the next logical thing in this phantasmagorical scenario he absolutely has not fantasized about hundreds of times before.

"Breakfast?" he proposes, and to his delight, Willow's smile grows even brighter.

"Hashbrowns and chocolate chip waffles," she hums in agreement. "Favorite booth at Robin's Roast? My treat."

"Best. Pretend. Girlfriend. Ever," Hunter sighs, barking out a startled laugh when Willow digs her fingers into his sides and tickles him senseless.

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Until You Meet Someone Who Makes The Fall Feel Like Flying

The Owl House » Huntlow

Title: Until You Meet Someone Who Makes The Fall Feel Like Flying

Author: fairytalesandfolklore

Fandom: The Owl House (Masterlist)

Relationship: Hunter | The Golden Guard x Willow Park

AO3 Rating: Mature (a complete collection of author's notes, inspiration credits, content warnings and tags can be found on AO3)

Summary: Hunter and Willow have been secretly pining for one another since freshman year of high school, and now they're going to be college roommates. They're just moving in together, it's no big deal. Surely this won't change anything between them.

Hunter isn't sure at which point exactly he fell in love with her — when her fingers brushed through his hair as she checked him for a concussion, or when she brought him a soup bowl-sized mug of hot cocoa, winked at him, and said, "I put some extra marshmallows in there for you, helps with the healing, trust me" — but from that night on, Hunter knew that he loved her. And he hadn't stopped loving her, all the way to this exact moment five years later, where he now sat opposite her on his threadbare couch, faced with the prospect of living with her for the next seven months.

Read On AO3 | Read On Tumblr: Chapter 1 » Chapter 2 » Chapter 3 » Chapter 4 » Chapter 5 » Chapter 6

[zoestarlings]

he could have been a tumblr sexyman i swear

[juniemunie]

[Abandoned by the Lightners, his heart became cracked with hatred.]

Hitting a lil' too close to home?