#i picked something else but I do all of the above

[alexafaie-asd]

Ok, so I'm kind of exhausted because I couldn't sleep at all last night (couldn't stop thinking how to word this all clearer than I tried to in the comments), but I am going to try to actually talk on this more in full.

Putting it all below a read more because this got very long and most people probably don't actually give a damn about learning about how disabilities can affect people so way easier to let people expand it if they want to read it rather than scroll through just to yell "not reading all of that".

The reason I responded as I did is because if you read the above post, it is saying one thing, but its very obviously pointing at something else. What are they trying to say about a person who does not listen to rap? Well it is probably the big classic gotcha of "if you don't listen to this one singular genre of black music then you are most likely a racist". That's the unspoken part.

But in truth that is a very very narrowminded outlook on why someone might not choose to engage with a genre of music.

I thought that I would give just one reason why someone might not choose to listen to rap which is NOT to do with racism - my own experience with how my auditory processing disorder affects me.

Below is a screen shot of what I wrote:

I unfortunately can not share screen shots of what was written in response as the person has either deleted their comment or decided to block me.

But the gist of it was to ignore most of what I wrote. To insist that I should just try harder. They ignored the examples I gave of genres of black music I absolutely adore (motown and soul being the genres I included but there are others my tired brain couldn't retrieve at the time). They ignored me expressing sadness that I can not process what I am hearing, they ignored that it sounds the same as auctioneer speaking.

So I tried again to explain a bit clearer what I meant by how my auditory processing disorder affects me:

I've tried to listen to different artists and have the same issue each time. To try and explain it clearer, with a lot of rap music (at least what I have been exposed to) there is usually a strong drum line, strong bassline and relatively little melody/instrumentals outside of that. The vocals are within the same kind of frequency range as the bass and drum parts. In addition, the music often makes use of distortion and in the production phase it is often quite heavily compressed.

This means that the vast majority of the sounds in the music are within a very narrow band which can make telling the vocals (mostly spoken not sung) apart from the drum and bass parts actually quite hard for me. It blurs into noise. By noise I mean the acoustical definition of "one that interferes with other sounds that are being listened to".

The suggestion of reading the lyrics would be useful if I could tell where the words are spoken enough to follow along. Or in cases where you might think you're mishearing a word - for example eggs and ex can sound pretty close to one another but would vastly change the meaning of the song so you might look the lyrics up to see what is being said.

But if you can't pick out the vocals properly at all? At that point I would just be reading a poem if I read the lyrics. Nothing wrong with poems, but reading a poem is NOT the same kind of experience as listening to music. I usually listen to music whilst I am doing something else, for example working on my cross stitch. I can't be reading lyrics whilst also following a pattern and sewing. And if I am reading something then I don't have music on in the background because I can not focus on both at the same time. (I also have sensory processing disorder so not only issues with processing sounds, but also other forms of sensory input, particular if they are concurrent). I can't do subtitles when watching something on TV for example.

Back to what I said last night though:

That was me trying to explain more that I'm not *wanting* to have this issue! I tried to discuss how I appreciate that a lot of time and effort and skill goes into creating the music. That I would love to be able to experience it how other people experience it.

I got more responses that ignored that, still treated me like I'm choosing to hate on it for no reason when I am not even hating on it. I am saying I respect the genre! I just can't process it into anything intelligible.

And yet again, someone choosing not to actually read what I said, but act like I'm doing something wrong by not listening to a genre of music that my brain can not process.

Rap is just one of the multitude of facets of what makes up black music. Its just one genre. I can understand having a "maybe this person is racist against black people if they refuse to engage with *any* music created by black people". I would agree. But rap is only the one genre. There is so much more to black music than that. Why is it the one genre than gets people all up in arms crying racist? I don't see people saying it about Motown, or Soul, or Gospel, or Blues, or Funk, or Jazz, or Disco... I don't see people saying it about Work Songs, or Ragtime, or Barbershop, or the OG Rhythm & Blues, or early Rock & Roll. All genres that I have listened to at various points throughout my life. Less so gospel if I am being fully honest, but that's simply because I'm uncomfortable with religious music in general (I'm not a religious person at all), but I would say its the best religious music I have heard.

Ultimately, for me to be able to process what I am hearing, I need the words to be clearly sung, not spoken. I don't do well with processing guttural sounds. Those blend in with drums too much. I don't have much luck being able to process spoken word or poems when read out loud. I also struggle to process audio books so don't listen to those either. And there are white bands whose music I avoid for a similar reason - like Muse for example. I know they are skilled musicians, but all the lyrics sound like "nurrr nuurrr nuurr nurr muurrr drrr brrr nnnrrr nrrr" to me. I can't process what they are saying. I also struggle with Coldplay. Loads of people love them so I'm sure they're doing something right. Can't tell what the fuck they're saying though.

Rap just happens to use multiple things that are hard for me to process. I know they make use of the voice more as rhythm than melody - and that is hard for me to process. And this is all before we talk about the kinds of words used. If it is a word I am familiar with then I am more likely to be able to pick out what is being said. However this isn't always the case. There are plenty of times where my partner has spoken to me and I've had to say "I'm sorry, I heard that you were speaking to me, I saw your lips moving, but I did not process a single word you just said, can you please try and say it in a different way?".

I did get one person trying to actually understand & offer suggestions that I might be able to try:

I can certainly give those a go to see if I can understand them enough to enjoy them.

I've already kind of touched on the "broaden your horizons a bit" thing further up in talking about genres, just of typically black music which I have listened to and enjoyed. And so continue to listen to and enjoy. There's also a wide array of genres I listen to within metal (one of my current faves being Ad Infinitum, Melissa Bonny has such a beautiful voice!) and folk music from around the world. I frequently listen to music in other languages, and generally when the words are sung in a melodic way, I'm able to pick out enough that I can just look at lyrics to figure out the few words I'm struggling with. But there are genres of metal that I avoid entirely for the exact same reason I don't listen to rap. I can't tell what is being said. This even goes for Metallica. I have their S&M album which is so well recorded and produced. I can manage to process a lot more of the words sung in the versions included in this album than the original album versions of the song. Even with the lyrics up I struggle with a lot of their original songs - there's a lot of distortion going on, quite a bit of guitar feedback creating noise, the recordings were done in a very cheap studio and are low quality, making the words not very clear as the vocal range is in a similar frequency band as the music. In comparison, the S&M versions which featured the San Francisco Symphony Orchestra in addition to the band's usual line up (for the time) and that additional melody, plus it being very well recorded (different mics for each instrument) meant that it is much easier for me to pick out what is being sung. I still struggle with some of it, but its enough that I can look up what I am missing. But even knowing the words now, I still don't process them properly if I listen to the original versions of the songs. So I don't listen to the original versions. I listen to the versions I CAN process. Plus the extra melody just makes the songs better even without the lyrics.

I still don't think I have really fully done this justice. It sounded way clearer in my head, but I do struggle with putting the words down as I think them.

But I will try the suggestions @eurekq recommended as they at least have been able to come at it from a place of trying to understand (does help that they have auditory processing disorder too). I can't guarantee I will like any of it of course. I suppose it depends on how strong the melody is. Because I really need a strong melody to enjoy the music.

rap has probably been the most consistently popular and influential genre of music for the past 40+ years but your average person on tumblr is less willing to listen to it than a random white teenage boy in the suburbs or a 4channer who lurks on /mu/ every once in a while

[ineedpaigebuckets]

ONE SHOT AZZI TOP I BEG

PTPOM 2.0

an: i don't know who the fuck allowed me to write this

disregard this thanks

warnings: filth 🥲🤞

--------------------------------------------------------------

azzi pov

the sound of sza seeping in through my ears, my headphones blocking out the sound of the music blasting through the bus. i can hear a little bit not enough to disturb my peace of just looking out the window. the light fall of the snow and the silence of the trees outside.

my peace is very quickly disturbed when i hear PTPOM 2.0 being blasted through the speaker and big fucking surprise my girlfriends screaming at the top of her lungs. she's one seat diagonal of me since i insisted on having my own seat, she can be a bit much at night.

"put that pussy on me." i hear her scream and my eyes whip to her before they're caught on amaris live, she tilted the camera towards me and i give her a guilty expression. paige sings a few more lyrics before she gives me a wicked smile and i groan looking back out the window.

i hear amari mumble something along the lines of "you're so gay." and that must have motivated paige to come annoy me.

i feel someone plop down in my seat next to me but i don't even bother, knowing it's paige.

"hi." she grins pulling the headphone off my ear to get my full attention. i slip them off and hang them around my neck leaning against the back of the seat.

"hi baby." i whispered brushing back her flyaways and holding my hands on her cheeks for a few seconds, silently asking her to please calm down. she still gives me her little giddy grin, and i can't help but smile back.

"you played good tonight." i soften my voice letting hands drop down to her lap holding onto her hands. my thumbs running over her skin.

"so, you gonna put that pussy on me or what?" i can see the look in her eyes, she's not kidding. i mean if i had a game like the one she just had i'd understand.

"i'm not the one who dropped 30 today, imma show you how proud i am." the amount of joy that goes through her face at my words is actually insane.

the second paige and i make our way into our hotel room, hand in hand giggling, we cuddle up in bed and turn on the tv. about 30 minutes later i look down to see paige spread across my chest just relaxing in the feeling of me. "thought you were gonna put that pussy on me." i whisper my lips tracing the outline of her ear. as much as paige liked having dominance over the situation, she fucking loved it when i got her right. i see paige pick her head up slowly as her tired hooded eyes meet my own, but there's a glint of something else in them.

"imma do whatever the fuck you want me to." her voice deep and raspy, i'd give anything to hear her voice all day everyday.

"good girl." i whisper my one hand tugging her chin up to me, causing our lips to meet. the first touch was soft, but it didn't take long for paige's mouth to slot open letting my tongue slide around, exploring every inch of her mouth i knew all to well. my other hand sliding up the back of her shirt leaving a tingling sensation wherever i touch. before i could move again paige had propped herself up practically pushing me down into the pillows as she pushed her mouth against mine in a kind of urgency neither of us had been prepared for.

everything else in the room quickly forgotten, all 5 of my senses quickly attuned towards paige.

"imma make it quick so we can get you to sleep okay superstar?" i mumble against her tired lips. her motions had gotten sloppy but not at all less motivated. my girl was grumpy when she didn't sleep. and we were not about to have a grumpy paige.

"how tired you feeling, you wanna lay back for me or you wanna sit up?" i whisper, a string of spit connecting our lips as we pull away, her breathing heavy.

"lay down." she whispers rolling off of me and laying flat on her back her chest rising and falling. i let a small smile cross my face as i push her shirt up and let it sit above her sports bra.

"you wanna take these off?" i whisper my lips ghosting her stomach, pressing soft kisses and licks across her toned abdomen as i position myself between her legs. she props herself up and i help her slip both items of clothing off, drawing my mouth back to her small perky breasts. my thumb runs gently across her neck in a soothing manner. she lets out soft sighs and i completely relax into the feeling of her.

"az." i hear her mumble and i move my mouth from her chest onto that spot behind her ear i know all too well.

"i gotchu baby, i gotchu." i knew i wasn't gonna tease her, or be a bitch tonight, tonight was about showing her just how proud of her i was. and she deserved just that. i slide my hands to her waistband and sit up as i slide both her pants and boxers off at the same time.

"you're so beautiful my love." i whisper pressing a soft kiss on her lower stomach. she shifted on the bed uncomfortably as i pushed her legs apart and settled in between them again. before she can even think i hook her feet above my shoulders and lick a long stripe up her heat. i feel her back arch off the bed as she sucks in a breath. her face contorting in pleasure. i could get off to just watching her. i feel her hands grip onto my hair pulling me into her before i can even get a breath out. i run my tongue gently across her clit, my movements soft but just the right amount for her, sucking gently at her skin.

"fuck, fuck baby, so good." paige starts to ramble off incoherent words and i continue my work, letting my tongue slip down into her entrance and brushing my nose to where my lips previously were. expertly knowing just what she needs. i feel her legs trembling over my shoulders and it gives me confidence. my hands pull her thighs impossibly closer, trying to get as far into her as i physically could.

the whole world is gone, the only thing going through my mind is the taste of the girl i love, the smell of her sweat, arousal, and cologne all mushed together, she feel of her legs around my head, the sight of her sweaty abs glistening in the light right in front of me, and the small sounds she was letting out at my movements. everything perfectly at ease. i feel her buck her hips against my tongue and i know it before she even says anything.

"az-" she tries to speak but is cut off by an even more beautiful moan slipping from her mouth as she pushes the back of her head into the pillow.

"look at me paige, look at me and let go." my voice deep and husky as i keep my mouth on her not letting up one bit. she's propped up on her elbows, my eyes soft as i watch her come undone. her hands tighten further in my hair as i feel her pool into my mouth, and i have no problem licking her clean. but when im done licking it up, i don't stop, keep going as i feel her clench around my tongue for the second time tonight. but then i feel her hands desperately pushing at my forehead.

"off, too much- can't." she breaths out and i do as she says moving only a centimeter away from her heat as i breathe into her.

"one more baby, i know you can." when i went down on her there was absolutely no stopping me and she knew it. she nodded her head with big eyes and threw her arm over her eyes as i got back to work. my tounge flicks a little rougher than last time as i realize just how close she is already. her legs tremble over my shoulders and all i can do is grab onto her thighs, my hands digging into her skin. i look up at her, eyes closed just taking in the moment and i slow my movements just a little, trying to remember exactly this moment, wanting to hold it with me forever. i see her back arch higher and i know she doesn't have much longer so i slip away from her and trail my hand up her chest and hold two fingers in front of her lips.

"open." i hum as she takes my fingers in her mouth swirling her tongue around and between them getting them all ready for her.

"good girl." i murmur as i slide my hand back down and circle my now wettened fingers over her clit. but i feel her twitch under me and replace my fingers with my lips, sucking hard. my fingers easily dip into her wetness and fall into a steady rhythm for only a few seconds before without a warning she's gushing all over my hand and my chin. i look up at her, she looks like she's screaming but there's no sound coming out. the hottest fucking scene i've ever looked at. she lets out a strangled moan as her body falls limp against the bed. i slip out of her and pull my lips away from her throbbing center.

"so good for me, you did so good baby. so proud." i smile coming up to flop down on the bed right beside her. she gives me a lazy smile before her eyes fall closed. after a few minutes when i know she's at least calmed down a little i turn to her my own breath finally evened out.

"you know, you still never put that pussy on me." i grin a wicked smile as my hand traced across her bare stomach and my eyes meet hers just as she opens them. she gives me a look almost pleading me to not continue. but knowing she has one more in her i give her my own look. a look of desperation.

"sit on my face p come on." hoping the dirtiness of the words would finally bring out the last bit of desire she had in her. and boy was i right because she sat up in no time. her eyes wide almost asking me if i was sure. it wasn't something we'd done before, i'd done it to her but not this way. and it was exactly what i wanted. i swing her leg over my head so she was hovering over me. i lick a stripe up her wetness gathering what i could on my tongue as i desperately try to pull her down onto me.

"az, careful baby, i don't wanna hurt you." her voice was raw and worn out, yes so sweet and gentile. everything about her made me smile.

"don't worry, i got you, just relax, sit down." i feel her slowly let all her weight fall onto me and i wasted absolutely no time, able to hit new spots with my tongue at this new angle.

"taste so fucking good." the vibrations of my voice caused her to tense up around my tongue and i felt her legs tremble already, only seconds in and she was overwhelmed.

"gonna- can't- azzi." she murmurs holding on to the headboard for the most part and i pull her hips to rock against me as she works herself through the third orgasm of the night. she turns around and flops back her cheeks flushed and her lips bright pink as i kiss them gently.

"no more, all done, sleep." she mumbles her eyes falling down already.

"did so good mama, all done, time for bed." i sit up and strip off every item of clothing i was wearing and wrap myself in her side, the skin to skin contact perfect.

"goodnight paige." i whisper against her neck, hearing the soft snores coming from her body.

[bitchy-craft]

PICK A CARD: What your higher self wants you to know

Hello and welcome to this new reading! I will tell you about what your higher self wants you to know. I hope you all enjoy it!

Masterpost > Paid Readings > Patreon Masterlist

The extended version of this reading can be found on my patreon, the link of which is here

                               pick a card

Pile 1:

The cards in this pile indicate that your higher self wants you to know that it's time to let go of old patterns and beliefs that no longer serve you, things that hold you back or make you feel ways that bring you nothing but negativity. It's time to trust the process of life and let go of any control you may need, even if it's difficult for you. Things take time, and you have enough of it. If what you have to let go of won’t go as quickly as you wish that is alright; not everything has to be done immediately, simply starting the process is already something to be proud of. Taking the first steps is already something many people haven’t been able to do or have been too afraid to do.

Extended reading

Pile 2:

This pile tells me that your higher self wants you to know that it's time to step into your power and embrace your true self, to let go of the things others expect from you and want from you. To choose yourself above anyone else. You do not need to rely on others in order to achieve a worthy life. As a matter of fact, following the path someone else lays for you will cause you to live the complete opposite. You need to choose your own happiness, your own truth and your own path in order to be happy, even though it can be scary to do that.

Extended reading

Pile 3:

The story this pile tells is about how your higher self wants you to know that it's time to focus on self-care and nurturing yourself, to choose yourself above anyone else and work on whatever you find difficult yet want to excel at. You have been giving too much of your energy, time, thoughts and emotions to others, and now it's time to prioritize your own needs and leave behind anything that holds you back from that. You do not always need to put others first, and no one is going to think badly of you if you do so either. People around you will support you if sometimes you sometimes decline an invitation, or don’t go full out if it isn’t working out.

Extended reading

[chibinasuu]

My Valentine | Killer x Reader

Summary: You got a mysterious note asking you to be their Valentine Tags: sfw, fluff, confession, no use of y/n, GN but written with F!reader in mind, reader wears lipstick (as many kid pirates do, of course)

“That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard!”

Your face burned in embarrassment at Kid’s boisterous laughter. 

“Well, if I had a lover,” Wire interjected, “I sure wouldn’t need a whole day dedicated to proving how much I love them. I’ll simply show them every single day.”

Wire’s unexpectedly sweet words prompted Kid to fake-gag, while you groaned frustratedly, “The point is not to prove your love! It’s a day to celebrate love.” 

“Hmm,” Kid brought a finger to his chin, pretending like he was deep in thought, “Nah, I don’t get it.”

“You’re impossible,” You sighed, “We’re pirates, our days are full of violence and fights. Is it so bad to want some romance once in a while?”

“Ugh, when did you become such a sap?”

You gritted your teeth, “Well, you’ve always been an asshole, so I’m not surprised that you don’t understand!”

You flipped Kid off and stalked towards your cabin. 

Your face immediately found your pillow, your screams of frustration muffled in the soft fabric. Of course, your emotionally-stunted Captain wouldn’t understand. It was stupid of you to even talk about Valentine’s Day to Kid, of all people.

Warmth rose to your cheeks as the image of a certain blond unwittingly floated to the forefront of your mind. 

Now, he would understand. 

You knew that he would listen to all of your blabbering, no matter the topic, even if it was something as “ridiculous” as a Day of Love tradition from your home island.

Despite his covered face, you would know that he was hanging on to your every word from the way he would offer soft hums and small nods as you talked. 

You would know that he was listening attentively from the way he would ask questions, encouraging you to tell him more about whatever it was that you were chattering about.

Without intending to, a deep sleep eventually claimed you, bringing dreams filled with manes of luscious yellow hair and fleeting stripes of blue and white.

The sun had nearly completed its descent when you finally woke up from your unplanned nap.

You were groggily stretching your arms above your head when your gaze fell on a small note on the floor of your cabin, which appeared to have been slid from underneath your door. 

You padded over and picked the paper up curiously. A gasp left your lips when you saw what was written on it in slanted handwriting. 

Will you be my Valentine? 

Kitchen. 7 pm. Wear something nice.

You couldn’t deny that your heart started to beat a little faster at the invitation, but the rational part of your brain told your heart that something was weird about this.

As far as you knew, only two other people on this ship knew that today was Valentine’s Day, and by process of elimination, you came to the conclusion that this must be your idiot Captain messing with you. 

Who else would it be from?

The brief giddiness you felt was completely overtaken by a raging annoyance. Your fist clenched so tightly that it creased the little note, and you stormed out of your room to confront the redhead.  

“Kid!” You yelled as you burst into the kitchen, “I swear whatever cruel joke you’re playing here–“

You stopped in your tracks. 

It wasn’t your Captain waiting for you in the kitchen.

“Killer?”

The Massacre Soldier – clad in an apron – had his hands frozen midway through putting a lasagna-filled baking dish into the oven. 

“Hi.” He said awkwardly, “It’s, uh, not 7 pm yet.”

You could only stare at him as the gears in your head turned rapidly, “The note… it was you?”

Killer tried not to sound dejected when he replied, “Were you expecting someone else?”

“No! I thought– Well, um,” You continued to babble incoherently, taken aback that the person you had hoped for, but certainly not expected, was the one who wrote the note all along. 

Killer closed the oven door, fumbling a bit as he took off his mitts and quickly set the timer. He reached for something on the far side of the dining table – something that escaped your notice due to your surprise at this whole situation. 

“For you.”

Your breath hitched as he handed you a simple box tied with a red ribbon. 

“Dinner’s not ready yet, but these are, so…”

You felt Killer’s eyes following your every move through his mask, observing your reaction silently. 

You open the box to reveal a row of chocolate truffles, evenly dusted with dark cocoa powder. The shapes were a little bit lumpy, telling you that the sweet treats were likely handmade by Killer himself. 

A surge of joy overflowed through you, filling your body with a delicious warmth. How did he know that chocolates were such a fundamental part of Valentine’s Day in your hometown? You couldn’t believe this was happening.

And maybe you shouldn’t believe it.

Your brain cruelly shattered the euphoria that you were feeling. 

Right. Killer couldn’t have known about Valentine’s Day. Did Kid or Wire tell him? 

Was this some kind of sick prank that the three of them were playing on you? 

Or did he overhear your conversation and felt sorry that you didn’t have someone to spend this day with?

You couldn’t bear any of those thoughts being true, but you couldn’t really think up another explanation for this. Someone like Killer couldn’t possibly want to do anything remotely romantic for someone like you… right?

“Kil, I… I really appreciate this,” you finally said, “But I swear if you’re just doing this out of pity, or, or for a joke, then–”

“Pity? A joke?” Killer spitted out, “Where did that come from? What in the four goddamn blues are you talking about?”

He sounded legitimately confused, which in turn, made you confused.

With your face buried in your hands, you finally told him about your earlier conversation with Kid and Wire. When you were done explaining, Killer simply laughed out loud at your misguided suspicions, “You got it completely wrong.”

“Well, how did you know about Valentine’s Day, then?” You grumbled defensively, “Kid didn’t, so obviously the holiday is not celebrated on Kutsukku Island.”

Killer scratched the back of his neck bashfully. 

“I, uh, accidentally got a peek at your calendar a while ago.” He admitted, “I was looking for you, and your door was open, but you weren’t in your room.”

Your face burned, remembering that you had circled today’s date and wrote ‘Valentine’s Day’ in bold letters, with a bunch of little hearts drawn around it in red ink, “Oh.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to snoop.”

Killer shrugged before continuing, “Obviously, I got curious. So, on the next island we docked at, I went to the library and did a little research.”

A smile crept up your face at the image of your hunk of a Commander, hunched over in the library with a book.

“Did you know Valentine’s Day is not only celebrated on your home island? Quite a lot of places in the Four Blues and the Grand Line celebrate it too.” 

You cocked your head, partly out of interest at the fact he just told you, partly out of amusement that he really took the time to read up on the holiday, just because of some little hearts on your calendar. And partly out of surprise too – you had never seen the Massacre Soldier act as nervous as he did now.

His hand started fidgeting with the hem of his shirt as he droned on and on, “The holiday’s known by different names, of course, and there are a lot of different traditions involved, but the consensus seems to be that it’s the perfect day to celebrate love with your partners.”

He took a shaky breath, and hesitantly, in a voice so soft you thought you were imagining it, he said, “And that it’s also a perfect day to… confess your feelings.”

It took more than a few seconds for his words to sink in. 

Your eyes widened like saucers when they finally did.

“…You have feelings for me?” You sputtered incredulously, “Why?”

Killer chuckled at the dumbstruck expression on your face, “Why would I not?” 

You gulped as his hand reached out to brush his fingers upon your hair, grazing your ear in the process, “You’re smart, funny, beautiful, brave. You never take shit from anyone. You take care of me and the crew a lot. I love talking and spending time with you. You’re the most wonderful person I know.”

His hands gripped your shoulders, as if begging you to see yourself the way he saw you.

“How could I not fall for you?”

You couldn’t see his face, but the sincerity in his voice alone was enough to choke you up.

You were speechless, so you just stood there with your mouth slightly gaping, staring in disbelief at the man you have had feelings for forever admitting that those feelings were mutual. 

As your stunned silence went on, Killer’s hands slackened from their hold on your shoulders, and he took a step back, mistakenly taking your reaction as rejection.

In a surge of panic, and with a boldness that came out of nowhere, you grabbed his metal-clad face and pulled him back towards you, planting a kiss right where his lips would be. 

You pulled away just as quickly, letting out an embarrassed chuckle when you saw that your lipstick had left a little kiss mark on his helmet. Your hand flew to the spot, but Killer caught it before your fingers could wipe the stain off.

“Killer, I–“

“If you want to kiss me,” His voice somehow sounded lower than it was a minute ago, “You better do it properly.”

And with that, he brought your hands to the sides of his head, guiding them in lifting the helmet off.

Your heartbeat quickened to a million beats per minute as Killer’s face was slowly revealed to you. 

First his goatee, then his purple-stained lips, his pointed nose. 

Killer shook his blond mane and set the helmet aside before finally meeting your gaze.

“Kil…” You reached out as if in a trance and gently caressed his cheek, gasping at the sight of his strikingly blue eyes, “You’re so beautiful.”

It admittedly made you giddy that you had now become one of the only few select people that Killer chose to show his face to.

Hell, if the world knew what he looked like underneath that mask, you were sure that a gaggle of women and men would chase him down to the ends of the Grand Line.

Killer grabbed your waist and stepped closer to you, leaving a mere inch between your chests. Both of your hearts were thumping so loudly that it was a miracle that the other couldn’t hear it.

He leaned in ever so slowly… then stopped, leaving it up to you to close the gap. 

You tentatively brushed your lips against his, and it felt like sparks had burst all over your chest, leaving tingles everywhere. You pressed your lips to his once more, a little bit firmer this time.

Killer couldn’t hold back any longer and tugged your body flush with his. His hand traveled to the back of your head, pulling you into a deeper kiss.

Your knees felt like jelly, and you would’ve been sprawled on the floor if it wasn’t for Killer’s steady arms holding you up. 

You could taste a hint of chocolate on his tongue – he must’ve spent so much time taste-testing to make the perfect batch of chocolates for you.

Both of you couldn’t get enough of each other now that you had gotten a taste, but of course, you were only humans, so you finally parted to properly get some air into your lungs.

Killer touched his forehead to yours and grinned, still slightly out of breath, “So, does this mean you’re my Valentine?”

“Yes, you big oaf.” You laughed, circling your arms around his neck and pulling him into a tight embrace, “This year and the next, and for as long as you want me.”

The kitchen of the Victoria Punk never felt as warm as it was now, with you finally wrapped around Killer’s arms. A delicious aroma wafted from the oven, a reminder that a lovely meal for two was still waiting for you – and that your night had barely started. 

You wished it would never end.

a/n: i almost didn't finish this on time askdjksjdk i kept procrastinating because i didn’t quite know how i wanted to write killer, but i hope i did him justice! hope you enjoyed this little valentine treat, and i hope you're all having a great valentine's day, whether you're spending it with your partner, your friends, your family, or by yourself. have some chocolate and flowers from me 🍫💐

[babvc-au]

Scene 14:

(A Few Days Later...)

The public library was quiet, save for the occasional rustle of pages and the soft creak of wooden shelves.

Bendy wandered through the folklore and fantasy section, his fingers brushing against the spines of old, dusty books.

Then, one caught his eye.

It wasn’t flashy—just a worn, leather-bound tome with a metal clasp, holding it together. But something about it sent a strange, almost magnetic pull through him.

A weird feeling settled in his gut.

Why does this book feel… important?

Hesitantly, he pulled it from the shelf—

"Tch—!"

He winced as a sharp sting shot through his finger. A small bead of ink-like blood welled up on the tip.

“The hell? Why is that so sharp—?”

A soft click echoed.

The metal clasp unlocked on its own.

Bendy’s brows knit together. "Okay… that’s not weird at all."

Still, curiosity overpowered caution. He carefully flipped the cover open—only to be met with empty pages.

“A… blank book?”

He turned a few more pages. Same thing. Just smooth, untouched parchment.

Bendy frowned. Did I just get all excited for nothing?

Before he could close it, the pages began to glow.

The light flickered softly at first, then intensified, illuminating the dim aisle.

The book suddenly yanked itself from his grip, floating above his head.

Bendy stumbled backward, watching in stunned silence as the pages fluttered wildly.

Then, with an abrupt thud, the book dropped to the floor.

Bendy frantically looked around.

"Did no one else see that?!"

A quick glance confirmed it—other patrons were still lost in their reading, oblivious to what had just happened.

He turned back, staring at the fallen book.

After a moment, he carefully picked it up.

And that’s when he saw it.

Words began forming on the pages.

What the…?

The ink swirled and shifted, twisting into letters he didn’t recognize. Some strange ancient language.

Yet when Bendy squinted, trying to make sense of it, it was almost as if he could read it... when suddenly...

The air shifted behind him.

“Whatcha doing?”

Bendy yelped so hard he nearly jumped out of his boots.

The book flew into the air from his startled grip.

Spinning around, he barely managed to fumble it back into his hands, yanking it to his chest like a lifeline.

Cuphead stood there, smirking.

Bendy’s face twisted in disbelief. “Y-You again!?”

Cuphead snorted. “I have a name, y’know.”

Bendy scowled. “First off—WTF, dude?! Second—WTF, dude!? What, are you stalking me now?”

Cuphead blinked, tilting his head.

“…Eh.” He shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets. “You don’t gotta tell me.”

Just like that, his interest vanished.

Weirdo.

Bendy gave him a wary glance before cautiously peeking at the book again.

The strange script continued to unfold across the pages, the ink shifting like liquid shadows.

What is this…?

Cuphead leaned in slightly, peering over his shoulder only to squint in confusion.

“…So what’s up with the blank book?”

Bendy froze.

“…What?”

Cuphead pointed lazily. “It’s empty.”

Bendy looked down at the clearly not-empty book in his hands now. The words were still there moving, forming, changing.

His grip tightened around the cover.

“You can’t see it?”

Cuphead raised a brow. “See what?”

A chill ran down Bendy’s spine.

Cuphead raised a brow, “Well, whatever. Have fun with your ghost book.”

Bendy snapped out of it, scowling. “Ugh! Go away, creep!”

Cuphead only laughed, lazily strolling away to browse the section as if he hadn’t just traumatized Bendy twice in a row.

Bendy glanced around the library, his fingers still curled tightly around the book. He needed somewhere quieter, somewhere he could focus.

He spotted an empty table tucked in the corner, away from wandering eyes. Without hesitation, he hurried over, plopping down onto a wooden chair.

The book rested in front of him, still thrumming with an unseen energy. The words on the page continued to shift.

Something about it felt… familiar but he couldn't put his finger on it.

As he stared, something strange happened.

At first, the symbols were unintelligible, twisting and curling like foreign script.

But then his vision blurred for a moment, and suddenly, he could read them.

‘The first piece lies in the land of festivities. The old carnival.’

Bendy blinked, squinting at the page. Wait… what?

He didn’t know how, but he could understand it.

His fingers traced over the strange letters. Was this thing… rewriting itself in his mind?

Before he could process it further.

A chair scraped against the floor.

Bendy jerked his head up, scowling as Cuphead casually slid into the seat across from him, arms lazily folded over the backrest.

Still here!?

Bendy glared. “Oh, for pete's—dude, seriously!?”

Cuphead rested his chin on one hand, smirking. “What?”

“What do you mean, ‘what’!?” Bendy hissed, lowering his voice. “You’re still following me around like some kinda creep!”

Cuphead tilted his head. “I’m just sittin’ here.”

Bendy’s eye twitched. “Uh-huh. Totally not watching me.”

Cuphead’s smirk widened. “Oh, I’m definitely watching you.”

Bendy groaned, rubbing his face. He flicked a glance toward Cuphead, only to notice something.

Cuphead’s eyes weren’t on him.

They were on the book.

Not in curiosity. In scrutiny.

Bendy instinctively shifted, pulling the book closer.

Cuphead leaned back, crossing his leg over the other. “So? What’s it say?”

“Nothing,” Bendy lied immediately, snapping the cover shut.

Cuphead just raised an eyebrow, looking deeply unconvinced.

“Uh-huh. Sure. Because staring at blank pages is definitely interesting.”

Bendy huffed, but inside, his mind was racing.

The old carnival…

The words rang in his head. The only carnival in town had been shut down for years. It was a crumbling, abandoned wreck now.

Why would some weird magic book be pointing there?

And why did Cuphead seem too interested in what he was reading?

Bendy’s grip tightened around the book.

He had a feeling. A bad one.

Scene 15:

Bendy hunched over the book, his voice barely above a whisper as he glared at Cuphead.

“Will you just go away already?”

Cuphead smirked, clearly enjoying this. “Nope.”

Bendy groaned, throwing a quick glance around to make sure no one was listening. He leaned in.

“Look, this ain’t got anything to do with you. So why are you still here?”

Cuphead lazily stretched, his smile briefly flashing in the dim library light. “Dunno. Maybe I just like watchin’ you squirm.”

Bendy gritted his teeth. This guy—!

“Ugh!” He slapped a hand over the book. “Can you at least stop staring at the book like you wanna eat it or something?”

Cuphead chuckled, tilting his chair back. “I mean… it does smell weird.”

Bendy stiffened, “Excuse me, WHAT.”

Cuphead tapped his nose. “It’s got a scent. Not normal paper. Smells… old. And like blood.” His grin widened. “And I know you have no idea what you’re messing with.”

Bendy bristled. “I am perfectly capable of handling a weird floating book, thank you very much.”

Cuphead hummed, unconvinced. “Uh-huh. Sure. ‘Cause that worked so well when it flew outta your hands and nearly knocked you out five minutes ago.”

Bendy’s eye twitched. “How about I knock you out with it!?”

Cuphead only grinned.

Before Bendy could actually throttle him, a new voice suddenly cut through their argument.

“Excuse me.”

Both Bendy and Cuphead snapped their heads up.

Standing near their table was a tall, sleek-furred black cat. A coat draped over his shoulders, a satchel hanging at his side, and a distinct air of quiet intelligence about him.

Bendy froze.

His brain stalled.

His breath hitched.

IT WAS HIM.

Felix the Cat.

Bendy nearly felt faint.

This wasn’t just some cat.

This wasn’t just any author.

This was his biggest idol.

The Felix the Cat—legendary adventure novelist, expert on the occult, and the guy whose books Bendy had practically grown up on.

Bendy’s mouth flapped open. His eyes sparkled.

“Y-you’re—!”

Cuphead, meanwhile, had an entirely different reaction.

His posture immediately shifted, going from casual amusement to sharp skepticism. His red eyes narrowed, his smirk gone.

“…Huh.”

Felix’s gaze flicked between the two of them before settling on Bendy. He studied him for a moment.

“That book you're holding...”

Bendy snapped out of his starstruck daze just enough to look down at the book in his hands. He swallowed hard.

Felix knew this book?

Cuphead’s gaze flicked between Bendy and Felix, then at the book. His fingers subtly curled against the table.

Something wasn’t right.

Felix tilted his head, expression unreadable. Then, with calm certainty, he asked.

“Where did you find it?”

Bendy didn’t know what to say.

Bendy fumbled for words, still caught between awe and sheer panic.

“Oh! Uh… in one of the shelves—”

Before he could even finish, Cuphead cut in, that ever-present smirk curling on his face.

“Do ya need somethin’ kitty?”

Bendy snapped his head toward him, incredulous.

“Dude!?”

Cuphead shrugged, leaning back further in his chair, arms lazily draped over the backrest.

“What?"

"You act like he’s some sorta famous person.”

Bendy gawked at him. “He IS!”

Cuphead barely reacted, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, yeah.”

Felix let out a small, amused hum, adjusting the strap of his satchel. “Ah, I apologize for intruding, but I happened to overhear your conversation.”

“O-oh.”

Oh crap.

Bendy’s tail twitched as his mind went into overdrive. How much did he hear? Did he see the book glow? Did he—

Cuphead, meanwhile, remained completely unbothered. He waved a dismissive hand, head tilted back against the chair.

“Relax. He knows about us.”

The words left Cuphead’s mouth so casually that for a second, neither Felix nor Bendy processed what he had just said.

The moment it sank in, both Bendy and Felix whipped their heads toward each other, mutual shock flashing across their faces.

Felix blinked, composing himself quickly. He studied Cuphead, then Bendy, before arching a brow.

“Ah. Then I take it you’re already in the know about us?”

Bendy, still completely out of the loop, sputtered, “Wait, you’re—”

“Yup.” Cuphead cut in again, not letting him finish.

There was a reason he didn’t let him elaborate.

They were in a public place. No need to go throwing around the ‘V’ word where just any toon could overhear.

Felix picked up on it immediately. He nodded, subtly shifting his stance. Less cautious, more conversational.

Bendy, on the other hand, was still staring between them.

Cuphead had met Felix before—but not well enough to trust him. He knew the basics. Felix was one of the rare few who had managed to slip out from under the Devil’s control and vanish into hiding.

Unlike Cuphead, he hadn’t been dragged back into a deal gone wrong.

And unlike most others of their kind, Felix was actively looking for a cure.

A real one.

Cuphead had never ratted him out.

If there was even a chance that a cure existed—why wouldn’t he want to find it too?

Still, it wasn’t exactly trust that kept Cuphead from selling Felix out.

It was curiosity.

And Felix could feel that curiosity settling into Cuphead’s stare as they locked eyes for a moment.

The three sat in a strange silence.

Finally, Felix exhaled.

“Well,” he mused, a small smile on his face. “This certainly makes things… interesting.”

Bendy, still processing, let out a strained laugh.

“Y-you think?”

Alrighty Folks! The Time Has Finally Come!

Hopefully this is everything and i didn't miss any panels or doodles for this post, but here is almost everything about BABVC's comic sketches, wips, doodles, refs, and even scripts i never finished, plus more! Doodles and other art stuff will be added to the end of this post. (Due to how many wips i have and such, there will be multiple reblogs happening as i go through this so bare with me.)

So, did you want to know how BaBvc would have went? Here's your answer. (This will contain a mix of the script, old comic wips and context)

Now, well jump to where we left off in the comic with a smol refresher.

Scene 6 Nightmare:

It's dark and bendy is in a black like void. He hears voices.

"Why? You had a chance!" OB growls.

"Who's there!?" Bendy shouts.

"Why did you resist?" OB

"What?"

Bendy's eyes are suddenly covered by cold clawed hands. And he tries to pry them off.

"Why!?" OB

"What are you talking about?! Who are you!" Bendy growls trying to fight them off.

"Don't keep me waiting much longer" we see the claws retract and three tails around Bendy.

"I'm sick of waiting"

The last shot is of Bendy's demon cross eye.

“But, how…?”

He hears a yawn from Boris as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, “good morning, Bendy”

Boris blinks at Bendy’s hand and the bag, "You better not eat that so early in the morning, Bendy.” Boris scolded, ears pinned back.

“What? No, i wouldn't do that. But...” Bendy says, looking at the can thoughtfully. "Did you get some more after last night…?" He asked the tall wolf. Boris raised a brow at him, confused. 

"What do you mean?" He asked. "That's the same bag from last night when we went to the market right?" He asked. 

"Well yeah but, I lost it, remember?" Bendy said and looked up at his younger brother. Boris stares at him in confusion. "...You did?" He asked. 

Camera focuses on the can in his hand.

Scene 8:

Bendy and Boris enter Berry cafe and take a seat at a booth.

"So you honestly don't remember?" Bendy starts looking across the table to his younger brother.

"I really don't. I only remember us getting the stuff, and then after that, it's all blurry. Like I blacked out or something, and then it was morning." Boris replied. "Are you sure you didn't just imagine you lost it? Maybe it was a dream that you had last night." He points out.

"..." Bendy thinks, "Maybe you're right. I've been having weird dreams, and I guess it's possible." He says tiredly. "Though it really felt like I wasn't dreaming." He mumbled to himself.

Then Melody comes around shortly after and asks them what they would like to order. "Hello, welcome to Berry's Cafe. What would you - oh! It's you two, the usual then?" She smiles and lifts her paper and pen.

Bendy lifts his head and gives a small smile. "Ah, yeah, for me, at least. Boris?" He looks over expectantly for his order.

"Oh! um, what's the special today?"

"New York cheesecake drizzled in strawberries and syrup, it's so good!" she smiles and hugs her notepad dreamily.

Boris perks at that smiling "Guess I know what I'm getting now, (haha) and can I get a hot coco with that, thanks Melody."

"No problem! I'll put your order in right away." She nods and walks away allowing Bendy to see the other residents in the cafe. And surprisingly enough he sees someone familiar. His eyes widened a little, shocked.

(Isn't that-?)

Bendy looks at his right wrist and rubs it lightly.

(So it hadn't been a dream? I should probably thank him.)

Bendy stood, making Boris look at him. "Bendy?"

"I'll be back."

Bendy walks away and heads for the familiar person.

"Uh, Hey." he says. Catching Cupheads attention who opens his eyes. He looks a little confused and shocked to see Bendy for a moment.

"I wanted to say thanks for the other night you really helped me back there." Bendy says looking to the side awkwardly.

Cuphead says nothing for a minute. His shock turns to annoyance.

"Yeah, whatever, watch yourself, you're lucky I found you when I did." Cuphead says with a steady look. "Didn't your mom teach you not to walk around at night by yourself?"

"It's dangerous." He glares, narrowing his eyes.

Bendy furrows his brows at the semi aggressive tone. "Hey, I came to thank you, not get a lecture! And I wasn't by myself."

"..."

"Anyway like I said, thank you, seriously." Bendy frowned.

Cuphead stands up and looks down at Bendy, who looks up at him in return nervously as they stare at each other.

"Here you go sir, your order." Tostie says, giving Cuphead two drinks.

"Thanks," he says.

She walks away.

"There you are, Cuppy!" A new voice sounds in the cafe besides Bendy.

Mugs comes over and stands by his brother's side. Who gives him an exhausted look.

"Here." Cuphead hands him the second drink.

"Oh! Were you in the middle of something?" Mugs looks between Bendy and Cuphead.

Cuphead gives Bendy another glare.

"No. Let's go." He walks off, but Mugs falters and gives Bendy a nervous smile and a wave before he follows.

"Geez, what a jerk." (At least the other guy was nice) Bendy sweats but shrugs it off heading back to Boris.

"Was that someone you knew?"

"Uh, not exactly," Bendy says as he slides back into the booth.

It's silent for a moment before Boris speaks up.

"Bendy, listen, I know you're just as confused as I am, but you haven't told me a single thing about what happened last night, I was really worried about you."

"I know, I promise to tell you when I've made sense of it, ok? Just… give me some time."

Boris sighs, "...Ok"

Bendy looks away and out the window covered in fog with a thoughtful look. It starts to snow a little.

Scene 9

Cuphead glares ahead. (The hell? Did I not wipe his memory correctly? And what's with that weird smell?) He rubs his nose.

Mugman watches him, concerned. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Cuphead mutters. “I just need to go to the casino… again.”

Mugman frowns. “Huh? Why?”

“I’ll tell you later—unless you wanna come with me.”

Mugman hesitates, then nods. “Mmm… I’ll go with you.” Cuphead glances at him, his expression unreadable. Without another word, he keeps walking.

(Que this scene where they report to The Devil about Bendy being immune to memory wiping)

"Sir, I've come to report something." [Kneeling]

"What is it?"

"There's someone i met that's immune to memory wiping."

"..."

"Is that so..."

(Thus, The Devil orders Cuphead to keep an eye on Bendy and to report back if anything happens.)

Scene 12

Cuphead (bat form) climbs through the crack of the window in the kitchen. He hops to the ground and transforms back into his toon form. He dusts himself off and then looks up. Unexpectedly Bendy was in the doorway and saw everything.

(Que a funny nervous Bendy stares and throws a mug at Cuphead.)

Bendy runs to his couch and starts his spiel.

"What are you doing in my house!? Are you going to kill me!? You're a vampire! Aren't you supposed to stay out of houses unless you're invited!? Or something!?

"Huh?"

"Wait a minute, vampires have other weaknesses! I think I have a few things!"

Bendy runs out of the room, and Cuphead is left in confusion.

"Okay...this is weird." -sigh-

Bendy comes in and out with various "vampire deterrents"

"Garlic!?"

"No"

"A cross!?"

"Nope"

"A stake!?" (It's a twig)

"Na-da"

"Sunlight!?" (Its a flashlight.)

"Did you forget you saw me at the café?"

[julietsf1]

All is Fair in Love and Pastries - Kenan Yıldız x Reader

summary: She came to Munich for romance and got ghosted instead. Now, all she has left is a non-refundable ticket, a wounded ego, and an ongoing feud with a man who stole her last pretzel. (8k words)

content: serendipity, slight enemies-to-lovers, unexpected chemistry, teasing, fluff :)

AN: getting that real life inspo lmao I'm actually still going to Munich this weekend as my ticket is non refundable :') bet im gonna go shopping tho!! have a lovely day darlings <3

_______________________________________

I stared at my phone for the hundredth time that day, hoping—no, praying—for a notification. A single message. A carrier pigeon, even. Anything to prove that I hadn’t just imagined the last 5 months of my relationship.

Nothing.

Just the same empty screen, as quiet and indifferent as the man who swore he loved me five days ago.

I refreshed our chat anyway, like that would suddenly make a difference. Maybe my WiFi was acting up. Maybe he had texted, and the message was just... stuck in the digital abyss, waiting to be delivered.

Nope. Still nothing.

I sighed dramatically and flopped back onto my bed, holding my phone above me like it might suddenly start explaining itself.

It had been four days since my boyfriend—ex-boyfriend? Current ghost?—had last texted me. Four whole days. No explanation, no excuse, not even the cowardice of a half-assed breakup text.

Just... radio silence.

Besides the instagram stories of his friends, where he was seemingly having the time of his life clubbing and going to basketball matches.

The man who, less than a week ago, had been telling me he missed me so much, that he couldn’t wait to see me, had apparently decided I no longer existed.

Cool. Very cool.

I unlocked my phone and stared at my last message to him. A simple:

"What time are you picking me up from the airport <3"

Sent. Read. Ignored.

I clenched my jaw and rolled onto my stomach, glaring at my laptop screen where my non-refundable plane ticket sat in my email inbox. A round-trip flight from Nice to Munich, purchased in what I now recognized as the stupidest burst of romantic optimism I’d ever had. 

What was I supposed to do now? Cancel? Waste the money and sit at home, marinating in my own heartbreak like some tragic rom-com protagonist?

Absolutely not.

He may have ghosted me, but I’d be damned if I let some spineless man ruin my weekend. If nothing else, I was going to Munich. I had been there quite often for him anyway; I can figure out town for myself. And if nothing else, I was going to eat overpriced pastries, wander through fancy boutiques, and romanticize the hell out of my heartbreak.

So that’s exactly what I did.

I packed my bags and boarded the plane with all the enthusiasm of someone heading to their own public execution.

…

Munich was cold, and I was hungry—a dangerous combination for my already fragile mood.

I had spent the last hour walking through Englischer Garten, trying to shake off the lingering irritation of being ghosted. Fresh air was supposed to be good for you, right? It was supposed to clear your head, restore balance, whatever.

Did it work?

Not even a little.

I even stopped by the Eisbachwelle, where wetsuit-clad lunatics flung themselves into freezing water, attempting to surf a man-made wave in the middle of the city. I lingered for a while, waiting for the sight of someone wiping out spectacularly to cheer me up. A little Schadenfreude, as the Germans call it.

But even that failed me.

A guy faceplanted so hard that his board smacked him in the ribs, and all I felt was secondhand embarrassment. Not a single drop of joy.

Which meant I had officially lost my edge.

I needed a reset. Something warm, salty, buttery, preferably in the shape of a large pretzel.

So when I spotted a small bakery stand in Marienplatz, I knew what had to be done.

There it was. The last Brezn.

Golden brown, perfectly crisp on the outside, still steaming slightly. It looked like a hug in food form. The kind of thing that could turn your entire day around, that could restore faith in humanity, that could—

A hand shot out at the same time as mine.

Before I could react, the pretzel thief had already handed over his cash, nodding a polite danke to the vendor as if he hadn't just robbed me blind in broad daylight.

I stood there, hand still hovering mid-air, fingers closing around absolutely nothing.

The guy—the criminal in question—didn’t even hesitate. He just took a bite, slow and deliberate, as if he were performing for a food commercial.

I should have just let it go. But I was cold, hungry, and, quite frankly, on the verge of snapping.

“Excuse me?” I said, my voice teetering dangerously close to customer service polite.

He finally turned toward me, mid-chew, like he hadn’t just committed culinary theft.

Up close, he was—unfortunately—pretty easy to look at. Tall, broad-shouldered, with sharp features softened only slightly by a full head of thick, dark blonde hair. The kind of guy who looked like he belonged in an expensive ad campaign, modeling watches he probably didn't even know how to read.

His gaze flicked down at me, scanning me with the casual arrogance of a man who had never had to fight for the last anything in his life.

“Problem?”

I crossed my arms. “You just stole my Brezn.”

He glanced down at it. Then, without even a hint of remorse, ripped off another piece and tossed it into his mouth.

“Oh?” he said, chewing. “Didn’t see your name on it.”

I let out a slow breath through my nose. “You cut the line.”

He shrugged. “I don’t wait in lines.”

I squinted at him. “Oh, wow. That must be so difficult for you.”

“It is,” he replied, entirely serious, before popping another bite into his mouth.

I stared at him. He stared back.

This was a test from the universe.

“I think I deserve it more,” he said finally, still looking alarmingly relaxed about this whole thing.

“Oh yeah?” I deadpanned. “And why’s that?”

He licked a bit of salt off his thumb—unnecessarily slowly, might I add—before replying, “I’m barely ever home. Haven’t had one of these in months.”

I exhaled sharply, glancing at the vendor like maybe—just maybe—there was another pretzel hiding in a secret stash somewhere. But no. This was it.

This stranger had not only taken the last Brezn but was now making a compelling case as to why he deserved it more.

I had two choices:

1.     Accept defeat like a normal, functioning adult.

2.     Die on this hill.

Unfortunately, I wasn’t feeling particularly mature today.

“Well,” I said, shifting my weight onto one leg. “I actually had a really rough week. So if we’re doing the who deserves it more competition, I’m pretty sure I win.”

He raised an eyebrow, looking far too amused for someone who had just ruined my day. “Oh yeah? What happened?”

I opened my mouth, then hesitated.

 “Let’s just say I’ve had a series of unfortunate events that have led me here, to this exact moment, where all I wanted—all I needed—was a Brezn.” I gestured toward the offending baked good, still clutched in his ridiculously nice hands. “And yet, here we are.”

He considered that for a moment, like he was actually entertaining the idea of handing it over.

Then, after a beat, he simply swallowed, dusted the salt from his fingers, and said, “Still not giving it to you.”

I blinked. “You’re actually the worst.”

“Probably,” he agreed, unbothered.

And then—because apparently, this interaction wasn’t infuriating enough—he shot me a quick smirk, turned on his heel, and walked away.

With my pretzel.

I watched his retreating figure, the back of his stupidly nice jacket, the annoyingly confident way he walked, and considered my life choices.

Maybe I should have just tripped him.

…

By the time I reached Jamal’s apartment, I had mostly let go of the pretzel theft.

Mostly.

Fine, not at all, but I was telling myself that because I refused to let some random bread bandit ruin my entire weekend.

I rang the doorbell, and within seconds, the door swung open to reveal Jamal Musiala—failed Raya date turned best mate.

We had met on the app ages ago, but within the first five minutes of real-life conversation, it was abundantly clear that we were better off as friends. No awkward tension, no will-they-won’t-they—just immediate sibling energy.

And when he heard about my spectacular disaster, he didn’t even hesitate.

"Cancel the hotel. My guest room is free. You’re staying with me."

Which was how I ended up here, standing in his doorway while he pulled me into a quick hug.

"Yo! Finally made it," he said, immediately pulling me into a hug. 

"Survived another international flight," I sighed, stepping inside and already feeling the tension in my shoulders ease.

He grabbed my bag, tossing it near the door like it was his personal mission to make sure I did absolutely nothing for myself this weekend. "Long day?"

"You have no idea," I muttered, collapsing onto the couch. "Between the baby on the flight and some guy testing my patience on the streets of Munich, I was one bad moment away from throwing hands."

Jamal raised an eyebrow, already amused. "Define ‘testing your patience.’"

I waved a hand. "Eh, some random dickhead cut in front of me at a bakery. Took the last Brezn. Very tragic. Anyway, I’m over it now."

Jamal snorted. "You don’t sound over it."

"I’ve grown as a person," I said solemnly, grabbing the tea he handed me. "Anyway, enough about me. What’s new? Got any hot gossip?"

"Nothing as dramatic as your bread wars," he teased, settling into the chair across from me. "But I’m still reeling over the fact that you thought long-distance dating was a good idea."

I sighed, taking a long sip of my tea. "Alright, go on. Get it out of your system."

He smirked. "No, no, I just think it’s inspiring. You—who has approximately zero patience for time-wasters—thought dating someone five countries away was a solid plan."

I gave him a look. "It made sense at the time!"

Jamal raised an eyebrow. "Did it?"

I groaned. "Yes! In theory, long-distance means built-in space. No pressure to see each other all the time, no risk of losing yourself in the relationship. You still get your own life. It’s all very mature, very evolved."

"Ah yes," he nodded seriously, "a relationship with absolutely no quality time. Revolutionary."

I ignored him. "It worked perfectly for me."

Jamal leaned forward, grinning. "I think you’re saying he just didn’t make you fall head over heels properly."

"I’m saying it was a noble experiment that failed," I corrected.

"You rationalize love like it’s a business deal," he said, shaking his head. "I bet you made a whole pros and cons list before agreeing to this relationship."

I pursed my lips.

Jamal’s eyes widened. "Oh my God. You did."

"It was a very casual list," I mumbled into my mug.

He threw his head back, cackling. "You’re mental."

I scowled. "Some of us like to make informed decisions, Jamal."

"And some of us," he grinned, "realize that love isn’t an investment portfolio. It just happens."

I squinted at him. "That sounds like something people say when they want me to shut up."

"That too," he admitted, still smirking. "Anyway, I invited a friend over for FIFA later—hope you don’t mind."

I waved a hand lazily. "No problem. I’m gonna take a long shower first anyway."

…

The shower did its job. By the time I stepped out, warm and wrapped in one of Jamal’s oversized hoodies, I felt lighter. Like maybe this weekend wasn’t a complete disaster. Maybe I could just enjoy being in Munich, enjoy my friend’s company, and ignore the nagging feeling that I had flown here for absolutely no reason.

Then I stepped into the living room.

And froze.

Because sitting on Jamal’s couch, controller in hand, was none other than the Brezn thief himself.

I stopped so abruptly I nearly slid on the hardwood floor.

He looked up at me mid-game, one hand casually flicking the joystick, the other resting against the back of the couch like he had all the time in the world. His dark blond waves were slightly damp, like he’d just showered too, and he was wearing a black long-sleeve shirt that looked unfairly good on him.

For a split second, I thought maybe the universe was punishing me. That this was some kind of elaborate karmic joke.

Then he grinned, slow and lazy.

“Oh,” he said, far too casually for my liking. “It’s you again.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Are you following me?”

Jamal—completely oblivious to the mounting tension in the room—paused the game and looked between us. “Wait. You two already know each other?”

The man—who I now knew was not just some random bakery menace but an actual acquaintance of Jamal’s—stretched his arms out in front of him like he was completely at ease, shooting me a look that was somewhere between amused and smug.

“We met earlier,” he said, still grinning like he found this whole thing hilarious. “Had a little disagreement over a pretzel.”

I crossed my arms. “I wouldn’t call it a disagreement. More like an act of blatant food theft.”

Jamal let out a loud laugh. “Oh my God. You’re the Brezn guy?”

I turned to him, betrayed. “You’re taking his side?”

“Oh, I’m on no one’s side,” Jamal said, still grinning. “I just can’t believe you’ve been ranting about this all evening, and it turns out it was Kenan.”

Kenan.

I turned back to him, my brain finally catching up. Kenan Yıldız. The name suddenly clicked into place. Juventus player. Young star. He had been on all the football news headlines lately, yet I hadn’t recognized him when we’d been too busy arguing over baked goods.

Kenan leaned back against the couch, clearly enjoying every second of this.

“If it helps,” he said, “I did think about giving it to you.”

I scoffed. “Wow. So generous.”

“Didn’t, though,” he added, eyes gleaming.

I inhaled sharply, mentally weighing the pros and cons of throwing a pillow at his head.

Jamal, meanwhile, was still thoroughly entertained. “Alright, alright. Before you two start a war in my living room, sit down. We’re playing FIFA.”

I dropped onto the couch, watching as he passed a controller to Kenan. “Oh, fantastic. I get to witness high-quality gameplay firsthand.”

Kenan barely glanced at me as he selected his team. “That sounded sarcastic.”

I took a sip of my drink. “That’s because it was.”

Jamal grinned. “You talk like you’ve seen him play before.”

I gestured toward the screen. "The evidence is right there. You haven’t even started playing, and I can already see the classic overconfidence."

Jamal burst out laughing. “Oh, this is great. I love this."

Kenan tilted his head slightly. “You think I’m bad at FIFA?”

I leaned back, stretching my legs out. “I think you think you’re good, which is way worse.”

Jamal wheezed. “Mate, she’s calling you a fraud.”

Kenan finally smirked, something sharper in his expression now. “Alright then. Play me.”

I scoffed. “Why would I waste my time proving something I already know?”

Kenan handed me a controller. “Because I think you’re all talk.”

Jamal let out a low whistle. “Damn. You gonna let him say that?”

I squinted at Kenan, assessing. He looked too confident, too pleased with himself, like he had already decided I was going to lose.

Big mistake.

I stretched my arms, feigning boredom. "Fine. But when I win, you’re buying me a Brezn."

His grin widened. “Deal.”

Jamal leaned forward, rubbing his hands together. “Alright, this is officially the most invested I’ve ever been in FIFA.” 

The match started, and I quickly realized three things:

1.     Kenan was as smug as humanly possible.

2.     I was not as bad as he expected.

3.     I was still losing.

“You sure you’ve played this before?” he teased, passing circles around my defense.

I gritted my teeth. “Yes.”

“You sure?”

“Shut up.”

And then—he scored.

Jamal burst out laughing as I dramatically collapsed against the couch. “I’m going to throw this controller at your head.”

Kenan grinned. “You’re just mad because you’re losing.”

I exhaled, resetting. “Alright. I’m locked in now.”

Kenan smirked. “Oh? You weren’t trying before?”

“I was warming up.”

And then—I started to figure him out.

Kenan was good, but he was also comfortable. He played like someone who expected to win—which meant he wasn’t ready for surprises.

So I gave him one.

Instead of playing safe, I started forcing mistakes. Instead of predictable attacks, I threw reckless passes forward, sprinting onto them with zero hesitation.

And then—somehow, some way—I scored.

The room went silent.

Jamal’s eyes widened. “NO WAY.”

I shot up from the couch, genuinely thrilled, throwing my arms in the air like I had just won the World Cup. “LET’S GO!”

Kenan blinked at the screen, processing. “...Alright. That was decent.”

“DECENT?” I laughed. “That was incredible. That was a masterpiece. Someone call FIFA, that was the best goal of the year.”

Jamal was dying, doubled over in laughter. “She’s actually celebrating like she won the league.”

Kenan shook his head, but he didn’t say anything.

Jamal leaned toward him. “You good, man? I think she actually rattled you.”

Kenan exhaled sharply, rolling his shoulders. “One goal means nothing.”

I grinned. “You sound stressed.”

“I’m not,” he said flatly.

“You look stressed.”

Kenan didn’t even respond. He just restarted the match, jaw set, eyes focused.

And that’s when I realized—he actually cared.

I had gotten to him.

And that fact alone made my entire weekend.

The rest of the game was pure chaos. I spent the entire match talking, commentating my every move like I was a sports announcer, making Jamal cry with laughter while Kenan did his best to block me out.

And then—somehow, against all odds—I scored again.

Jamal fell to the floor. “SHE DID IT AGAIN.”

I jumped up, clapping my hands together, absolutely beaming. “Someone get the cameras! Someone call ESPN!”

Kenan exhaled, dragging a hand down his face.

Jamal cackled. “I think this is the happiest I’ve ever seen her.”

Kenan looked at me then, properly looked, and for a split second, there was something undeniably fond in his gaze.

He didn’t say anything, just shook his head with a tiny, reluctant smile.

I flopped back down, grinning wildly. “Kenan, should I go pro?”

“You should retire while you’re ahead,” he muttered.

I smirked. “So you admit I’m ahead.”

Kenan sighed, picking up his drink. “I’m not talking to you anymore.”

Jamal wheezed. “Nah, man, you lost. Accept it.”

I stood up, stretching lazily. “I believe you owe me a Brezn, Yıldız.”

With a giggle, I wandered into the kitchen, grabbing a coke from the fridge, still riding the high of my victory.

Behind me, I heard Jamal got up, grabbing his phone. “Food’s almost here—I’ll go down and get it.”

The appartment was quiet now besides the sound of a controller being set down. A pause.

Then, Kenan’s voice, low and even.

“She’s unbearable.”

I grabbed a coke and turned around, only to find him already walking into the kitchen.

He moved with the kind of easy confidence that was impossible to ignore, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt slightly, like he had all the time in the world. I expected him to go for a drink himself, but he just leaned against the counter, watching me.

I raised an eyebrow, taking a slow sip. “Let me guess. You came in here to process your humiliating loss in private?”

His lips twitched. “I came in here to see if you’d finally crack and admit you got lucky.”

I scoffed, setting my drink down with dramatic emphasis. “Lucky? Oh, that’s cute. You think this was luck.”

Kenan tilted his head slightly, like he was really considering it. “Mmm. Either that, or you tricked me into underestimating you.”

I gasped, pressing a hand to my chest. “Are you suggesting I played mind games with you?”

His eyes glinted with something just shy of admiration. “I wouldn’t put it past you.”

I smirked. “You’re right. I totally did. And I’d do it again.”

Kenan’s lips curled at the edges, like he wasn’t going to give me the satisfaction of admitting anything. But his gaze flickered—just for a second—down to my mouth before locking back onto my eyes.

There was a beat of silence, not awkward but charged.

His voice was lower when he spoke again. “I’ll get you back for that.”

I raised my eyebrow. “Sure you will.”

Before he could respond, Jamal’s voice rang out from the hallway. “Food’s here!”

Kenan stepped back, running a hand through his hair before nodding toward the door. “Come on, winner. Let’s eat.”

I followed, my smirk still lingering.

For the first time all weekend, I felt genuinely good.

…

It had gotten late the night before. Later than expected.

Jamal had ordered food, we’d all ended up sitting around, eating, talking, and somehow, between full stomachs and heavy eyelids, Kenan had ended up crashing on the couch. It wasn’t planned—just one of those things that happened when the night stretched longer than you thought it would.

I had barely registered it at the time, already halfway asleep in Jamal’s guest room, but when I woke up the next morning and wandered into the living room, there he was.

Kenan Yıldız. In all his six-foot-something, professional athlete, half-asleep glory.

Sprawled out on the couch, one arm draped over his eyes, hair a mess of lazy curls, mouth slightly parted like he hadn’t fully re-entered consciousness yet.

I stared for a second too long, mostly because I wasn’t used to seeing him like this—soft around the edges, not smirking or arguing with me—before clearing my throat.

“You know, Jamal does have an actual guest room.”

Kenan didn’t move, just let out a low, sleep-roughened grumble that was probably a sentence in some language I didn’t speak.

I rolled my eyes, walking into the kitchen. “I’m going to get breakfast. If you’re alive in the next five minutes, feel free to come along.”

He was already pushing himself up onto his elbows, blinking like he wasn’t fully convinced the day had started yet. “Where’s Jamal?”

I grabbed my coat. “Still dead to the world.”

Kenan ran a hand through his hair, exhaling through his nose. “Smart man.”

…

The café was small, tucked away from the main streets, the kind of place that felt warm the second you walked in. The smell of fresh bread and espresso filled the air, and despite the morning chill outside, it was cozy, inviting, the kind of place people actually took their time in.

I relaxed a little the second I stepped inside.

Kenan scanned the space, hands in his pockets, taking it in like he was mentally scoring it. “Not bad.”

I scoffed. “Not bad? This is an elite breakfast spot.”

He smirked. “I’ll decide once I taste the food.”

I rolled my eyes but before I could continue defending my flawless café selection, I noticed a small interaction at the counter.

A barista—young, probably new—was clearly overwhelmed, trying to juggle too many things at once. She fumbled slightly with the coffee machine, hands moving fast, eyes flicking to the growing line like it was personally taunting her.

The businessman at the front, impatient and already checking his watch, let out a loud, exasperated sigh. “Jesus, is it always this slow?”

I didn’t mean to intervene.

It just kind of… happened.

I leaned slightly against the counter, offering a calm, easy smile.

“Take your time. It’s way too early for people to be this impatient.”

The words weren’t pointed, not really, but they carried just enough weight to cut through the tension.

The barista glanced at me, a flicker of relief in her expression before she nodded quickly and refocused on the drink in front of her.

The businessman, unimpressed, muttered something under his breath but dropped it, grabbing his coffee and stalking off.

Kenan, silent up until now, turned his head slightly toward me, like he was seeing me differently for the first time.

I ignored it, focusing back on the menu.

When we finally stepped up to order, the barista, still looking a little frazzled but better, managed a small, genuine smile.

“Thanks,” she murmured, adjusting her apron. “Some people are just…” She trailed off, rolling her eyes slightly, as if she couldn’t quite find the right word.

“The worst?” I offered.

She laughed. “Yeah. That.”

Kenan was still watching me, but now there was something else behind it.

Something almost amused.

“So you do have the capacity to be nice,” he mused, smirking as we stepped aside to wait for our drinks. “Interesting.”

I scoffed, stirring a sugar packet between my fingers. “I am perfectly capable of being nice.”

Kenan raised a brow, feigning deep contemplation. “Mmm. Just not to me?”

“The barista never stole my pretzel.”

He let out a low, lazy laugh, shaking his head as if he almost respected the answer. “Fair point.”

I took a sip of my coffee, pleased with myself, but before I could gloat, the barista returned, sliding an extra croissant onto our tray.

“On the house,” she said with a grin. “For being nice.”

I shot her a bright smile, but that smile slightly fell when I turned back to Kenan, I caught him watching me.

Not smirking. Not teasing.

Just looking.

It wasn’t obvious, nothing overt or lingering enough to call attention to itself. But there was something there—something unreadable, like a thought passing through his mind before he could decide what to do with it.

I frowned. “What?”

Kenan blinked, shaking his head slightly like he was resetting his expression. “Nothing.”

I squinted at him. “You’re weird.”

He smirked. “And yet, you invited me to breakfast.”

I rolled my eyes. “Because I was feeling charitable.”

Kenan took a slow sip of his coffee, eyes still flickering with something I couldn’t quite name.

“Lucky me.”

And for some reason, that sentence stayed with me longer than it should have.

…

The rest of the day, after dropping Jamal’s breakfast and Kenan went home, I was on a mission.

Enough sulking. Enough rehashing why I was even here. If I was going to spend a weekend away, I was going to make something of it—starting with the one thing that had never failed to lift my spirits.

Retail therapy.

Now, let’s be clear—I wasn’t the kind of person who regularly indulged in luxury shopping sprees. I was a firm believer in financial responsibility and splurging on sales.

But sometimes—just sometimes—a girl needed to treat herself.

I had no intention of actually buying anything.

But the moment I stepped inside Saint Laurent, something in me shifted.

Maybe it was the soft golden lighting, making everything look like it belonged in a dream. Maybe it was the quiet elegance of it all, the way the sales associates moved like they had all the secrets to life itself.

Or maybe, for the first time all week, I felt like I deserved something just for me.

I started with the handbags, lightly running my fingers over smooth leather and delicate gold clasps, trying to soak up the feeling of being in a place that felt so effortlessly put-together.

And then—I saw it.

It wasn’t a bag.

It was a dress.

Simple, timeless, and undeniably perfect.

I hesitated for a second, fingers hovering over the fabric, wondering if I was allowed to try something this nice on.

Then a sales associate appeared, smiling warmly. “Would you like to see how it fits?”

I bit my lip, a little shy. “Oh, I was just—”

But then, in a rare moment of self-indulgence, I nodded. “Actually… yeah. Why not?”

And that was how it started.

Five minutes later, I was standing in front of a mirror, staring at a version of myself I hadn’t seen in a while.

The dress fit like it was made for me.

It hugged just right, elegant but effortless, like I’d just thrown it on and magically looked stunning. The kind of dress that didn’t need accessories or complicated styling. It just… worked.

I smoothed my hands over the fabric, twirling just slightly, inspecting every angle.

And for the first time all weekend, I actually smiled at my reflection.

The saleswoman clasped her hands together. “That’s the one, isn’t it?”

I exhaled, still staring at myself. “You’re very good at your job.”

She laughed. "You look stunning, dear."

I let out a small, giddy giggle, the kind I hadn’t heard from myself in a while. It felt nice, to like how I looked—to do something that was just for me, without a single ounce of guilt attached.

For once, I wasn’t overthinking it.

I wasn’t analyzing whether I should or shouldn’t.

I was just happy.

So before I could talk myself out of it, I lifted my chin and said, “I’ll take it.”

As I handed over my card, I thought about where I’d wear it.

Jamal’s match tonight. The VIP box.

And then, out of nowhere, another thought crept in—one I definitely didn’t mean to have.

What if Kenan sees me in this? Surely he would be there too.

The moment the thought fully registered, warmth crept up my neck and into my cheeks.

I nearly choked on my own internal monologue.

I shook my head quickly, forcing down the blush before the saleswoman could notice.

I wasn’t buying this for him. Obviously. No. This was just for me.

…But if Kenan happened to see me in it, well.

That wasn’t my fault.

….

By the time I arrived at Allianz Arena, I felt genuinely lighter.

Maybe it was the crisp night air, the buzz of excitement in the crowd, or the fact that I was actually looking forward to something for the first time in days.

Or maybe, just maybe, it was the fact that I felt good in my new dress.

The stadium lights shone down as I made my way to the VIP section, clutching my pass. The energy inside was electric, fans already singing, the deep thrum of anticipation settling over the stands.

I stepped inside the box, scanning the seats for Jamal, when a familiar voice cut through the crowd.

I turned, already knowing who it was before I even saw him.

Kenan stood next to me, hands tucked casually into his pockets, his usual smirk firmly in place. The stadium lights did unfair things to his features, casting a warm glow over his already obnoxiously handsome face, and for a split second, I hated that he had the nerve to look like that in any setting.

His gaze flicked down ever so slightly, scanning my dress before he met my eyes again.

“You look good.”

I blinked, caught slightly off guard by the lack of sarcasm in his voice.

Then, as if he could sense me registering the compliment too much, he added, “Unexpected, really.”

There it was.

I let out a scoff, placing a hand on my chest. “Oh my God, Kenan. That was almost a normal, genuine compliment. You must be exhausted.”

He hummed, nodding. “Yeah, I don’t know what came over me. Won’t happen again.”

“Shame,” I teased. “I was really enjoying the moment.”

He shook his head, biting back a smile. “So, what brings you here? Finally expanding your horizons past FIFA?”

I crossed my arms. “Actually, I’m here for Jamal. Some of us support our friends.”

Kenan nodded slowly. “Mmm. And yet… you’re standing here, talking to me instead.”

I opened my mouth to fire back, but before I could, the stadium erupted in cheers, the players stepping onto the field.

I turned my attention to the match, trying to pretend I wasn’t slightly flustered.

Kenan, however, didn’t seem as interested in the game as he was in continuing his favorite pastime: annoying me for fun.

“So, be honest,” he murmured, leaning in slightly. “You understand the rules of football, right?”

I gave him a dry look. “Wow. Incredible assumption. You see a woman at a match and immediately assume she doesn’t get it?”

Kenan grinned, unbothered. “No, I just see you at a match and assume you’re mostly here for the snacks.”

I gasped. “Excuse me, I am deeply invested in Jamal’s career.”

Kenan hummed, clearly not convinced. “Okay. What position does he play?”

I stared at him. “...Defense?”

Kenan smirked. “He’s a midfielder.”

I groaned, throwing my hands up. “Alright, whatever, I’m here for vibes and friendship. Sue me.”

Kenan chuckled, his eyes twinkling with pure amusement.

For once, I didn’t feel annoyed by it.

I turned back to the field, taking in the sheer energy of the stadium, the rush of excitement that rippled through the crowd.

And out of the corner of my eye, I saw Kenan watching me.

I glanced at him. “Aren’t you supposed to be watching the match?”

His smirk didn’t waver. “I am.”

Something warm and fluttery settled in my stomach before I could stop it.

…

By the time the match ended, I was happily full of stadium energy but tragically underfed.

The VIP box had food, sure, but it was the kind of small, fancy bites that looked better than they tasted. You know, the kind that was supposed to be "elevated dining" but just made you angry and hungrier.

I popped another tiny canapé into my mouth and sighed dramatically.

Kenan, who had been watching me struggle with barely concealed amusement, finally smirked. “You’re starving.”

I turned to him, offended. “I am not starving.”

Kenan gestured lazily to the criminally small appetizer on my plate. “You just inhaled that in one bite.”

I crossed my arms. “Maybe I have a very refined palate.”

He snorted. “Right. That’s why you look physically betrayed after every bite.”

I sighed, defeated. “Okay, fine. Maybe I’m a little hungry.”

Kenan hummed like he was deep in thought, then glanced at his watch.

“Come on.”

I frowned. “What?”

He was already heading toward the exit, looking over his shoulder like it was obvious. “We’re getting food.”

I blinked. “Wait, seriously?”

Kenan chuckled, his expression full of mischief. “Trust me, anything outside is an upgrade from whatever that was.”

I tilted my head. “And what if this is an elaborate scheme to lure me into a suspiciously empty street?”

His smirk deepened. “I’d like to think if I wanted you gone, I’d be more creative than that.”

I considered it. “That’s… unsettlingly fair.”

…

Kenan’s car smelled unfairly nice—not in an overwhelming, aggressively expensive way, but in that effortless ‘I have my life together’ way. It was all clean leather, faint cologne, and something subtly fresh, like pine or citrus, the kind of scent that made you want to breathe a little deeper just to keep it around a second longer.

I did not breathe deeper.

Instead, I focused on the city outside, on the soft blur of streetlights streaking across the window as we drove through a quieter part of Munich. The streets were mostly empty, the chaos of match day behind us, and for the first time in what felt like ages, I wasn’t feeling weighed down by my own thoughts.

I was full, I was warm, and for once, I wasn’t thinking about him.

And then, Kenan spoke.

“So.” His voice was casual, almost offhanded, like he wasn’t about to upend my peace. “You never actually said why you were in Munich.”

I blinked, looking away from the window. “What?”

He glanced at me briefly, his fingers drumming idly against the steering wheel before he turned back to the road. “You don’t seem like the type to just book a random flight for fun.”

I scoffed, feigning offense. “Excuse me, I am very spontaneous.”

Kenan hummed like he didn’t believe me. “Right. And how many of these ‘totally random’ solo trips have you taken before?”

I opened my mouth. Paused. Frowned.

“…That’s not important.”

Kenan chuckled, shaking his head. “So, you’re telling me you woke up one day and thought, Munich sounds nice?”

I huffed dramatically, crossing my arms. “Maybe I did.”

Kenan shot me a pointed look that said ‘I know you’re full of shit.’

I exhaled, shifting in my seat. “Fine. I was supposed to see someone.”

He didn’t react—just kept driving, waiting.

It was almost worse than if he had immediately jumped in with a question.

I sighed, resting my head against the window. “But, uh… turns out he didn’t feel like seeing me back. And I had the ticket booked already.”

The words felt… lighter now, like they didn’t hold the same weight as they did a few days ago. Maybe because I’d said them out loud before. Maybe because I wasn’t alone with them anymore.

Kenan’s fingers flexed on the steering wheel, his jaw tightening for half a second before he spoke.

“Idiot.”

I blinked, turning toward him. “What?”

His voice was even, casual, but the way he said it was too sure, too final. “The guy. He’s an idiot.”

I let out a small, surprised laugh, shaking my head. “You don’t even know him.”

Kenan didn’t hesitate. “Don’t have to.”

Something about his certainty made my stomach twist.

I licked my lips, choosing to ignore the warm feeling creeping into my chest. “You’re very confident in that assessment.”

Kenan finally glanced at me, just for a moment, then looked back at the road. “Yeah. I am.”

The air in the car felt different all of a sudden, not uncomfortable, but charged.

I opened my mouth, about to say something to break whatever this was, when—

Kenan reached into the backseat, grabbing something, and tossed a small paper bag into my lap.

I frowned down at it. “What’s this?”

Kenan kept his eyes on the road, one hand resting lazily on the gear shift. “Something I saw.”

I gave him a suspicious look before reaching inside.

The first thing I felt was something soft.

And when I pulled it out, I actually gasped.

It was a Jellycat plush.

But not just any Jellycat plush.

A pretzel-shaped one.

Ridiculously soft, golden brown with tiny embroidered salt flecks, its round body twisted into a perfect loop, like an adorable, carb-shaped hug.

I stared at it, completely thrown.

My brain short-circuited.

I turned to Kenan, wide-eyed. “You—” I stopped, shaking my head, too stunned to be normal about this. “You got me a Jellycat pretzel?”

Kenan shrugged, like this was completely normal behavior. “Figured you’d appreciate it.”

I blinked down at my lap, still gripping the plush like it might disappear if I let go. “I—this is—I don’t even know what to say.”

Kenan smirked. “Wow. A rare moment.”

I ignored him, still reeling. “Wait. How did you—” My eyes narrowed as the realization hit. “Jamal.”

Kenan huffed a small laugh. “Jamal.”

I groaned, slumping back against my seat, embarrassed beyond belief. “I swear, he’s worse than an actual gossip column.”

“He told me the full pretzel tragedy while you were shopping this morning.” Kenan’s lips twitched. “Said you looked genuinely devastated when I took the last one.”

I gasped, pressing a hand to my chest. “I was devastated.”

Kenan let out a real laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, I got that impression. Little drama queen.”

I glanced back down at the plush, running my fingers over its ridiculously soft surface, warmth blooming in my chest for an entirely different reason now.

I swallowed. “Thank you. You didn’t have to do this, you know?”

Kenan exhaled through his nose, his smirk fading slightly. “I know.”

There was a small pause, then—

“I wanted to. I like to see you smile”

I froze.

Just for a second.

It wasn’t even what he said.

It was how he said it. Like it was simple. Like it wasn’t a big deal.

But it was a big deal.

I looked down at the Jellycat pretzel, tracing my thumb over one of the little embroidered salt flecks.

Kenan cleared his throat, like he wanted to move the conversation along before I got weird about it.

“I, uh—” He rubbed his jaw, focusing back on the road. “I couldn’t exactly smuggle a fresh one into the match, so I figured this would keep you warm in a different way.”

I swallowed, my grip tightening on the plush.

Somehow, slowly over the last few days, my heart stopped feeling so heavy.

I glanced at Kenan, and for once, he wasn’t watching me with his usual smirk or teasing expression.

He was just watching.

Like he was still trying to figure out why I looked so surprised.

Like he didn’t realize he had just completely disarmed me.

I turned back to the window, hiding my smile.

Kenan shifted in his seat, adjusting the air conditioning like he suddenly needed something to do with his hands.

He still hadn’t started the drive back to Jamal’s.

Good. I wasn’t in a rush to get anywhere.

…

I woke up earlier than expected, the kind of early where the world still felt half-asleep, where the streets outside hummed quietly with the first stirrings of the city.

The apartment was still, save for the occasional distant sound—pipes groaning as someone used the shower, the soft buzz of an electric toothbrush in another room.

And then—

A loud "OH, COME ON!" followed by rapid button-mashing and what I could only assume was a FIFA-related disaster.

I groaned, pressing my face into the pillow, trying to will myself back to sleep.

It didn’t work.

Instead, my hand reached instinctively for something beside me, fingers brushing against—

Oh.

I cracked one eye open.

There, sitting right beside my pillow, was the Jellycat pretzel plush.

Warmth bloomed immediately in my chest, completely uninvited.

It had been exactly where I left it, tucked neatly beside me like some ridiculous comfort object. I had slept next to it. Like some sentimental idiot.

I exhaled sharply, flopping onto my back and covering my face with my hands. “I’m losing it.”

Jamal’s distant FIFA agony continued in the other room.

I peeked at the plush again, this time reaching over to pick it up, squeezing it absently in my hands.

It was too soft. Too huggable. Too… thoughtful.

Kenan had really gone out of his way to find something like this. He had listened to Jamal’s retelling of my pretzel tragedy and then acted on it.

That thought alone did something weird to my stomach.

I needed to leave before I started reading into things.

After a long, slightly too-hot shower and a reluctant change into travel clothes, I zipped up my suitcase and walked into the living room, where Jamal was still intensely focused on FIFA.

“Morning,” I greeted, adjusting my bag strap.

Jamal barely looked up. “Yo. Ready for your flight?”

I nodded, shifting my weight. “Yeah, time to go back home. Thanks for letting me crash.”

He finally paused his game, stretching lazily. “No problem. You’re welcome to crash here whenever your love life implodes.”

I gasped, fake offended. “Excuse me, that was one time.”

Jamal smirked. “That was this time.”

I glared at him. “You’re very lucky I don’t have time to fight you about this.”

Jamal grinned, unpausing his game. “Safe flight, man. Oh—Kenan’s out front, by the way.”

I froze mid-step, my brain short-circuiting. “What?”

Jamal tilted his head toward the window. “I think he’s waiting for you.”

I blinked rapidly, my stomach flipping for reasons I refused to acknowledge.

Kenan was… waiting for me?

I didn’t even have time to process what that meant before my feet were already moving, slipping on my coat and heading for the door.

And sure enough—

When I stepped outside, there he was.

Leaning against his car, hands tucked into his pockets, his posture completely at ease, like he had been there for a while and had all the time in the world.

The moment he saw me, his lips curved into a smirk, like he had been expecting me to be surprised.

“You’re awake,” he said, as if he had any reason to assume I wouldn’t be.

I scoffed, shifting my bag higher on my shoulder. “What are you doing here?”

Kenan shrugged. “Driving you to the airport.”

I blinked. “I—what?”

He tilted his head slightly, amused by my confusion. “What, you thought I’d let you navigate Munich public transport with a suitcase?”

I narrowed my eyes. “I was literally just going to call an Uber.”

Kenan rolled his eyes, exhaling through his nose. “That’s boring.”

I stared at him, the weight of this entire situation settling into my brain.

Kenan—who had no reason to be here—had woken up, driven across the city, and was now waiting for me outside, completely unbothered, like this was just something he did.

I adjusted my coat, voice quieter. “You know you don’t have to do this, right?”

Kenan looked at me like I had just said something profoundly stupid. “Yeah. I know.”

I didn’t know what to do with that.

So instead of overanalyzing it to death, I just sighed, adjusting my bag.

“Fine. Let’s go.

…

When we finally pulled up to the departures area, Kenan shifted into park, tapping his fingers lightly against the steering wheel.

I unbuckled my seatbelt slowly, suddenly feeling like this was weirdly… final.

Like leaving now meant returning to normal.

And for some reason, I wasn’t ready for that.

I turned to him, opening my mouth to say… something.

But before I could, Kenan reached into his coat pocket and pulled something out.

A tiny bag of pretzels.

I blinked, thrown completely off guard. “You—”

Kenan smirked, holding it out toward me. “Figured you might need some snacks for the flight.”

I stared at him, something warm creeping into my chest before I could stop it.

I took the bag, shaking my head. “You’re trying to buy my goodwill?”

He leaned back against the seat. “You love it.”

I scoffed, but couldn’t suppress a smile. “Debatable.”

Kenan’s gaze flicked to my carry-on, and before I could register what he was about to say, his smirk deepened slightly.

“Did you pack the Jellycat?”

My face immediately heated up.

I opened my mouth—to lie, obviously—but Kenan just let out a laugh, shaking his head. “You did.”

I huffed. “No comment.”

Kenan’s lips twitched. “Good. It means my plan worked.”

I frowned. “Plan?”

He nodded toward the plush peeking slightly from the top of my bag. “Now you have to think about me every time you see it.”

My brain short-circuited.

I had no response to that.

I huffed, adjusting my bag. “Okay, well. Thanks for the ride, I guess.”

Kenan nodded once, casual as ever. “See you around.”

I hesitated for half a second.

Then, before I could stop myself—

I turned back to him one last time.

And said, without thinking:

“Don’t miss me too much.”

Kenan’s smirk was slow, lazy, and way too confident.

“No promises.”

I stared at him, my brain doing at least fifteen flips, before turning on my heel and walking inside before I could make this worse for myself.

I had no idea what had just happened.

All I knew was that my face was burning, and I was smiling like an idiot.

…

Back home, everything was exactly as I had left it.

The same apartment, the same slightly-too-loud coffee machine sputtering in protest before coming to life, the same half-empty fridge reminding me that I should really start grocery shopping like an adult.

Everything had resumed as normal.

And yet—

I found myself standing in my bedroom, suitcase still half-unpacked, as if some part of me refused to fully settle back into my routine. My fingers ran absentmindedly over the plush pretzel sitting on my bed, its soft, squishy loops an absurd but strangely comforting reminder of the past weekend.

I wasn’t supposed to still be thinking about him.

I wasn’t supposed to be replaying conversations in my head, breaking apart the way he had looked at me when he thought I wasn’t paying attention, the small shifts in his expression, the casual, almost careless way he had handed me that bag with the Jellycat and the pretzel, as if it hadn’t meant anything at all.

I let out a frustrated sigh, squeezing the plush against my chest like it was somehow responsible for all of this.

“You’re not helping,” I muttered at it.

Unsurprisingly, the Jellycat did not have a response.

I groaned, flopping onto my bed and burying my face into my pillow, as if that would somehow smother my thoughts into submission.

This was ridiculous.

I was being ridiculous.

I had gone to Munich with a very specific reason—to see someone who had ultimately proved to be unworthy of my time. But somehow, I had left with something else entirely.

A new inside joke. A new routine. A new, completely inconvenient way my stomach flipped whenever I got a text notification.

Which was precisely why I should not have reached for my phone just now.

But I did.

And when I turned it over—

There it was.

A new message.

From Kenan.

I hesitated for a beat, my thumb hovering over the screen, already knowing that whatever it said would only make things worse for me.

Then, finally, I clicked it open.

Kenan: Buy a nice winter coat.

I frowned, sitting up slightly as I typed back.

Me: Why?

The reply came almost instantly, as if he had been waiting for me to answer.

Kenan: I’m playing in the Netherlands next Wednesday.

Another message followed before I even had time to process the first.

Kenan: I need you to see how much better I am than Jamal, obviously.

I stared at my screen, my heart doing a very, very inconvenient thing, something warm and fluttery and deeply annoying settling into my chest.

I didn’t respond right away.

Because I already knew what I was going to do.

I was going.

[feyhunter78]

Valentine's Day Fratboy!Miguel

Art cred: @/viva_sl o𝗇 Twitter

Description: It's your first Valentine's Day with Miguel, and he goes a little overboard.

First Fratboy!Miguel Fic here

You stare dumbfounded at the open black crushed velvet box in your hands, a large blue diamond encircled by smaller white diamonds on a silver chain nestled within. “Is this…?”

“The Heart of the Ocean? Yeah, pretty romantic, right?” Miguel says, a self-satisfied smile on his face as he leans back against your couch, his arms folded behind his head.

“Please tell me this isn’t real.” You say, panic coloring your tone.

His brows furrow, the smile sliding off his face. “I mean it’s lab grown, and my dad knows a guy, so I got a killer discount, and it’s not as many carets as the one in the movie, but it’s still real, ya know?”

Your brain stops going through twenty-seven different modes of panic thinking he spent millions of dollars on you, and finally you can breathe. Just in time for Miguel to panic.

“If you don’t like it, I can get something else, there were a ton of different necklaces, I actually had this idea to make my own, but Kron said that was beta behavior and would turn you off, so I—”

“I like it, I do, really, I was just shocked.” You tell him, closing the box and setting it on your coffee table, next to the bouquet the size of your torso. A heart shaped box of chocolates, and a pure white teddy bear holding a red heart that read Be Mine, also on the tabletop.

“But in a good way, right?” He asks, glancing nervously between the gifts and you.

You smile fondly and take his hand in yours, his Rolex catching the light coming from the heart-shaped fairy lights hung on the wall above the couch. “Have you ever celebrated Valentine’s with someone before?”

“I’ve always managed to get out of Valentine’s Day, never really wanted to do all the mushy stuff.” He says sheepishly.

“That makes sense.” You giggle, looking over at the cliché pile of gifts on your table.

Hurt ripples across his face. “You hate them, got it, y/n, I’m serious, just give me twenty minutes I can make this up to you.” He says, getting up from the couch, his hand slipping from yours as he searches for his car keys.

“Wait, Miguel, hold on a second.” You call, getting up too, and following him to the door of your apartment, your steps muffled by the Valentine’s themed fuzzy socks on your feet.

He turns, an apprehensive expression on his face, his hand on the doorknob. “Just text me what you want, I’ll go get it.”

You wrap your arms around his stupidly impressive arm, his muscles emphasized by the black long sleeve dry-fit shirt he’s wearing, and tug him away from the door. “You. I just want to hang out with you. I haven’t even gotten to give you your gift yet.”

His eyebrows shoot up, and he follows you semi-willingly, retaking his seat on the couch.

“Okay, just wait here, it’s in my room.” You tell him, leaving him in your living room as you enter your room and shut the door behind you.

With the door shut, the world suddenly quiet, your nerves set in. What if he thinks your gift is stupid or cheesy? It’s your first Valentine’s Day together, you didn’t think he’d go so overboard! You pick the neatly wrapped gift up from your desk and contemplate changing into something prettier, hotter, sexier? You don’t really have lingerie, but you could definitely put on a black bra and matching underwear, that’s hot, right? Letting out a stressed groan, you toss the gift onto your bed and change quickly, cursing yourself all the while. Why didn’t you buy something cute? Miguel dates sorority girls, super hot, super fashionable and cool sorority girls like Kelsey and Emma from your Victorian Literature class. Why didn’t you ask them what to get him, or what to wear? They’re nice, they hang out with you at frat parties when Miguel is busy, they definitely would’ve helped you pick something out.

You look at yourself in the mirror, yeah you look good, but you’ve seen his ex-girlfriend Ava, she’s gorgeous, and has a killer body, next to her, you look frumpy and decidedly unsexy. You bite your lips and pull your clothes back on, pointedly ignoring the mirror. Now was not the time to get self-conscious, you could cry later when Miguel leaves.

Holding his present against your chest, you take a deep breath, and step into the hallway leading to the living room. The music you put on is still playing softly, the fairy lights are still on, the decorations are still cute, the cupcakes you made still look perfect, okay you can do this.

You reenter the living room to find Miguel completely naked with the box of chocolates covering his…intimate area. You don’t mean to scream, it’s not even the first time you’ve seen him naked, but it catches you so off guard, the startled sound just slips out, and you drop his gift, your hands flying up to cover your eyes. “Miguel, what the—why are you naked?”

“Why aren’t you? You said you had my gift in your room.” He says, and even though you can’t see him, you know he’s blushing head to toe.

“Yeah, it was on my desk, I had to grab it.” You explain, keeping one hand up to shield your eyes as you bend down to pick his gift back up.

You can hear the rustling of clothes as Miguel redresses, and you wait until he clears his throat to remove your hand. He’s smiling awkwardly at you, fully clothed, his hair a bit ruffled. “Sorry about that, usually that’s my gift, birthdays, Christmas, Valentine’s, you name it.”

You laugh nervously, all confidence gone, and force yourself to walk over and join him on the couch. Definitely should’ve bought cute lingerie, hopefully the black pairing will be enough. “No, no, you’re good. I can see how that would be confusing, me going in my room and shutting the door and all that.”

He’s still blushing, but he zeros in on the gift in your hand. “That for me?”

You all but shove it at him. “It’s dumb, but I thought you might like it, and if you don’t, you won’t hurt my feelings or anything.” Complete and utter lie, you’re pretty sure if he doesn’t like it, you’re going to burst into tears right in front of him.

“I’m sure it’ll be great, as long as it isn’t like a portrait of Dantell or something.” He jokes as he unwraps the gift, revealing the deep blue muscle shirt that reads Nueva York ENG Dept Boyfriend in Garmond style font across the front. As he pulled it out, two tickets fluttered from the folds and into his lap.

“It’s kinda stupid and silly, but Haley made one for her boyfriend and I just thought it might be cute for like around the KA house, or the gym or—you don’t have to wear it at the gym, or the house if you don’t want to, you can do whatever you want with it.” You explain, overexplain probably, the words tumbling out before you can stop them. “And the tickets are for this after-hours tour of the fine art museum downtown. It’s super private, and you get to speak with the curator, and get a little souvenir. I just thought maybe you’d want to do that, since I know you like art, and you’re really interested in the history. I’ll stop talking now.…”

Miguel is silent, staring down at the shirt and the tickets, unmoving except for the rise and fall of his chest.

You toy with the fringe of the throw blanket on your couch, waiting for him to say something.

“Y/N this is…”

“Cheesy and stupid, I know, I’m sorry.” You say, covering your face with your hands, trying to ignore the urge to throw yourself from your balcony.

He pulls your hands away and kisses you, hard. Hands cupping your face, sliding into your hair, his movements heated and insistent as he pulls you closer, practically devouring you, tongue and teeth clashing with yours. The taste of red velvet from the cupcakes you baked melding with something that is so uniquely Miguel. He pushes you down onto the couch, his ridiculously jacked body covering your own, dwarfing you, his forearms bracketing your head as his lips still on yours, and your head spins. Kissing Miguel is a trip, not that you’ve ever used hallucinogens, but every time he kisses you, you imagine it must be what a really good trip feels like. Especially when he breaks the kiss, and looks down at you with pupils blown wide, and pure adoration practically spilling from his warm brown irises.

“I love it, I love you, fuck I can’t even explain how much this—no one has ever—” he shakes his head smiling brighter than the sun, his curls falling into his face. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” You reply breathlessly, heart racing in your chest, your face flushed, your lips tingling. Did he just say he loved you?

Miguel dips his head back down, reconnecting your lips, one hand ghosting down your side to grip your thigh and wrap your leg around his lower back. “I’ll get you a better gift, like you got me, but first let me show you how much I appreciate your thoughtfulness.”

“Miguel, you really don’t have to.” You tell him, though you have no idea where you’re ever going to wear a giant ass diamond.

“Oh, but I want to dulzura, I really, really do.” He says, removing your clothes faster than you can blink, and pressing himself against your black cloth covered core with an appreciative groan, eyeing you like he’s a dying man and you’re his last meal. “You have no idea how grateful I am.”

TL: @bat-bae, @nyctophilic0vitnir, @smokeywhale-blog, @obi-mom-kenobi, @prowlingforfood, @penggion, @crystal-crax, @oharasfilipinawife, @generalkenobitrash, @melsimps, @chrishy973, @farrowroyale, @palesatan, @scaryplanetdestroyer, @denzmallows, @36namey, @scoobysnakz, @ihateuguys, @idkbros-world @smartyren, @deputy-videogamer, @blackrose8425, @amberpanda99, @marshhbs, @queerponcho, @chooalvina, @reader-1290, @beezusvreeland, @planetxella

[supernova2205]

Hearts and Ammo

Medic x 141

Summary: After a painful breakup, Specter struggles with her emotions as her team the 141 take it upon themselves to bring her comfort. Through a series of cheesy pick-up lines and thoughtful gestures, they remind her that love and laughter can heal even the deepest wounds. As Valentine’s Day approaches they all remind her that family is the cure to a broken heart.

Specter had been in the field for years, known by her team as the silent guardian who always had their backs. She had learned how to move through the chaos of warzones, appearing only when needed, a steady presence in the most chaotic of circumstances. But even a field medic like Specter needed time to heal after emotional wounds.

A week ago, she’d been heartbroken after her breakup. It had been a quiet, brutal thing, not loud, not dramatic, but it left a sting that felt deep. Her teammates, the 141, had noticed the change in her mood. It was subtle at first, but over time, it was clear that Specter wasn’t her usual self. She was distant, quieter than usual, and the sparkle that had once been in her eyes seemed dimmed. The heartbreak was something that couldn’t be fixed with bandages or quick fixes. It was something only time could soothe.

The first to take action was Johnny, always quick to try and lighten the mood. It was a part of him that Specter always admired. Johnny was the one who often joked around, keeping things light even in the most dire of circumstances. He had his quirks, his bad jokes, and his tendency to tease, but in that moment, he became something more.

He knocked on Specter’s door late one evening, knowing she’d likely be alone in her room, nursing the wound that was deeper than any physical one she’d ever treated. He opened the door to find her sitting by the window, staring out at the moon, the sadness in her posture undeniable.

“Hey, Specter,” Johnny said softly, his voice gentle despite the usual playful tone. “Thought you could use a little distraction. Got something for you.”

Specter raised an eyebrow but didn’t speak, her eyes not leaving the moonlit horizon. Johnny stood there for a moment, his fingers fumbling with something behind his back.

“Knock, knock,” Johnny finally said, his playful grin apparent even in the silence. “Who’s there? Lettuce.”

Specter’s lips twitched, the first sign of amusement she’d shown in days.

“Lettuce who?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Lettuce in, it’s cold out here!” Johnny finished, laughing at his own terrible joke.

Despite herself, Specter let out a small laugh. She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed his stupid jokes. It was a soft thing, but it was enough to make her heartache ease for just a moment.

For the next few days, each member of the 141 took their turn to bring Specter a little light, with each of them doing it in their own way. Gaz was next, sitting with her in the rec room, offering her some of his tea and asking about her day, carefully dodging any talk of the breakup. Instead, he gave her a terrible Valentine’s pickup line, as if it was just part of the job.

“You must be made of copper and tellurium, ‘cause you’re Cu-Te,” Gaz said, trying to stifle a grin as Specter looked at him in mock disbelief.

“Really?” Specter asked, fighting a smirk. “That’s what you’ve got for me?”

Gaz shrugged, raising his hands in defeat. “What can I say? It’s a classic.”

That moment of laughter didn’t fix everything, but it was a reminder of the family she had in the 141. Still, it was Price’s turn the following day to test out his own skills with bad humor. But the man was as serious as they came, and his approach was much more blunt. He handed her a small box, which contained an old leather-bound notebook.

“I thought you might want to write about something else for once,” Price said quietly. “Maybe it helps take the edge off.”

Specter opened it to find a simple message inside. “Sometimes, healing takes more than a medic. It takes a friend.” It was enough to make her throat tighten, and she found herself staring at the message for longer than she intended. Price’s words felt like a lifeline, one she didn’t know she needed until it was handed to her.

But then came Ghost’s turn. The quiet, stoic figure who, despite his stone-cold exterior, always seemed to know when to be there. He entered her room wordlessly and placed a small gift on her bed before sitting beside her without saying a word.

“You’ve been through a lot, Specter,” Ghost said after a long pause. “You’ve earned your rest. Take a moment. We’ve got your back. Always.”

It wasn’t the usual heavy-handed comfort she was used to from him. It wasn’t an attempt to fix things, but more like an unspoken promise that they weren’t going anywhere. They understood. They were family.

And then came Valentine’s Day, the culmination of the week of bad jokes and small, thoughtful gestures. The team had quietly arranged a small dinner, just the five of them, in a makeshift dining area in the compound. The table was set with candles, a touch of romance in the air despite their usual battlefield surroundings. Small bouquets of roses decorated the room, each with a little note from one of the men. The food was simple, but the love they had for Specter was evident in the way they set the scene.

Johnny grinned first, breaking the silence.

“Alright, alright, here goes. I’ve got a good one for you this time,” he said, leaning forward with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Are you French? Because Eiffel for you.”

Specter rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress the laugh that followed. Gaz and Price exchanged looks, and then it was Price’s turn.

“I might not be a photographer,” Price said slowly, “but I can definitely picture us together.”

Specter chuckled, shaking her head. The tension from the past week seemed to lift with each joke, each act of kindness.

Gaz leaned in next. “Are you a parking ticket? ‘Cause you’ve got ‘fine’ written all over you.”

By the time Ghost spoke, his voice was as smooth and quiet as ever. “Do you have a map? ‘Cause I keep getting lost in your eyes.”

Specter looked at each of them, her heart lighter than it had been in days. They had been her family before all of this, and they continued to be, now more than ever. The small gestures, the jokes, the moments of quiet understanding it wasn’t about fixing her heartbreak, it was about reminding her that she wasn’t alone. In the midst of their lighthearted teasing and Valentine’s Day jokes, Specter realized that she had everything she needed right there her team, her family.

The evening continued, the laughter filling the room as they shared a meal and lighthearted moments. The men took turns telling corny pickup lines, each more ridiculous than the last, until they were all in fits of laughter.

Specter found herself relaxing, something she hadn’t done in what felt like ages. She wasn’t sure how they did it, but with each bad joke, each thoughtful gesture, they had managed to pull her out of the pit of her own sadness.

As the night wore on, Specter’s heart felt a little less heavy. It was still tender, still raw, but the bond she shared with her team, with her family, was something that couldn’t be broken. She was grateful for them, for this strange, makeshift celebration of love and camaraderie, a reminder that, no matter what, they had her back.

Valentine’s Day had been a reminder that love didn’t have to come in the form of grand gestures. It could be found in the simplest moments in bad pickup lines, shared laughter, and knowing that, no matter how much life hurt, you weren’t alone.

Authors note: Hey everyone! I really hope you enjoyed this little Valentine’s-themed fic I put together for you my lovely readers. I just wanted to share something special and sweet! Sending lots of love your way HAPPY VALENTINES DAY!!!!🫶🏼

[swytchoocos]

Valentine’s Day— Haitani brothers ୨♡୧

I know for them is white day in march but this is the Americanized version feb 14 ;)

Ran Haitani

• Last-Minute but Perfect Plans – He acts like he doesn’t care about Valentine’s Day, but somehow everything falls perfectly into place. Reservations at an upscale restaurant? Done. A thoughtful but expensive gift? Already bought. He’ll act like it was effortless, but he definitely planned in advance.

• Teasing but Sweet – Spends the whole day teasing you, calling you needy for wanting a romantic day with him. But then he’ll randomly pull you close, tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, and say, “You’re lucky I like spoiling you.”

• Lavish Gifts – He’s got money, and he’s not afraid to use it. Jewelry, designer clothes, perfume—he loves seeing you draped in things he picked out. “Makes you look even better, doll,” he’ll smirk.

• Slow Dancing at Home – If you two go back to his place, he’ll put on some slow jazz or R&B, take your hand, and sway with you in the dim light. It’s one of those rare soft moments he doesn’t admit he enjoys.

• Possessive Affection – Ran has a habit of pulling you onto his lap in public, especially if he catches someone else eyeing you. “They can look, but they’ll never have you,” he’ll say with that lazy grin.

• Late-Night Drives – After dinner, he’ll take you for a ride through the city, one hand on the wheel, the other holding your thigh. He’ll drive aimlessly, just enjoying your presence.

Rindo Haitani

• Acts Like He Doesn’t Care (But He Does) – He’ll grumble about how Valentine’s Day is overhyped, but if you say you don’t want to do anything, he’ll get secretly annoyed. He wants to do something for you—he just won’t admit it.

• Simple but Meaningful – He’s not about flashy dates like Ran. Instead, he’d take you somewhere quiet and personal—like a hidden ramen spot or a scenic lookout where he can just enjoy your company without distractions.

• Homemade Effort – If he really likes you, he’ll cook for you. He’ll pretend it’s no big deal, but you’ll catch him double-checking the recipe or cursing under his breath when something doesn’t turn out perfect.

• Protective but Subtle – If you go out, his hand is always resting on your lower back, guiding you through crowds. He’s not the type to be overly possessive, but he makes sure everyone knows you’re his.

• Soft but Rare Compliments – “You look nice,” is about as much as you’ll get at first. But if you catch him off guard—maybe laughing or staring at him with love in your eyes—he’ll mumble, “You’re beautiful,” like he didn’t mean to say it out loud.

• Loves Spending the Night In – Rindo would rather have a chill night in than go to a fancy dinner. Movie marathon? Gaming session? Cuddling under a blanket while he absentmindedly plays with your fingers? Yes to all of the above.

• Quiet but Deep Love – Unlike Ran, Rindo won’t shower you with words, but his actions speak for him. He’ll hold your hand when no one’s looking, press a kiss to your temple when he thinks you’re asleep, and pull you closer in bed when he thinks you might move away.

Overall, dating Ran on Valentine’s Day is like being swept into a whirlwind of luxury and charm, while Rindo makes you feel like you’re the most important person in his world—even if he struggles to say it.

[lucy90712]

My valentine forver- Jude Bellingham

5 years old 

"Y/n I want to ask you something" Jude said as we were playing together during lunchtime 

"What is it Judey?" I asked 

"Will you be my valentine?" He asked 

"Sure but what's that" I said 

"I don't really know but my mummy and daddy keep talking about a Valentine's Day and being each others valentine so I guess it's just something best friends do" he said 

"Ok I'll be your valentine as long as you push me on the swings" I said 

"Deal let's go" he said grabbing my hand to help me up 

~~~~~~~~~~

"Hey sweetheart how was your day?" My mummy asked when she picked me up after school 

"It was good Jude asked me to be his valentine" I said 

"He did what?" She exclaimed 

"He said its something best friends do and he's my best friend so now we are each other's valentines" I said 

"That's exciting we'll have to talk to Jude's parents about that" she said 

9 years old 

For what feels like the first time in forever it's nice enough for us to be allowed outside at break time. Me and my friends all wanted to play football with the boys as they always think they are so good but we think we are just as good. There wasn't enough of us to make a full team to play the boys but we drew straws and organised ourselves into two teams. I ended up on the same team as Jude which is what I was secretly hoping for as we've played together before and we worked really well together so I was happy to get to play with him again. 

The years of friendship mean that Jude and I are pretty in tune with each other especially on a football pitch. Today was no different we didn't really need anyone else on our team as we both managed to run round the kids on the other team and pass back and forth until the ball went in the back of the net. It was so much fun but most importantly I was glad to make the other girls proud as maybe now the boys will take us seriously and let us play with them more often. Sadly we didn't get to gloat for too long as the bell rang meaning we had to go back to class. On the way back in I went to grab my water bottle but before I could Jude grabbed it for me as his was right next to mine.

"You played great out there you should really join a team" Jude said 

"My mum won't let me she says I can't do both football and dance and I'm committed to dance this year but maybe next year I'll do football" I said 

"Maybe you can join my club and we can play together" he said 

"That would be fun" I said 

"Wait y/n before we go into class I need to ask you will you be my valentine?" He asked 

"I'm sorry Jude I just don't like you like that I like being friends but that's it I'm sorry if that hurts your feelings" I said running off to go back into class 

Jude looked a little sad for the rest of the day which made me feel awful but I just don't like him that way in fact I don't like any boys that way because that's gross. I like our friendship we play together at school and he's taught me a lot about football but that's it nothing else. 

13 years old- Jude's POV 

Come on Jude you can do it. It's not that difficult just say the words. What's the worst that could happen. Well she could say no but she's done that before and I survived but this time it feels different we aren't 9 anymore and dating isn't something to be sneered at anymore. Being rejected now will probably hurt a lot more but I can't be thinking about that or else I'll chicken out for like the 5th time. 

I've had a crush on y/n for years but this past year it's only gotten worse. She's just so beautiful I can't stop myself from staring at her from across the room when we are in class together. I'm not the only one who has a crush on y/n all the guys in our year and even some in the year above are always talking about how pretty she is. I'm not as popular or as attractive as some of the guys who also like y/n but I'm hoping that after our many years of friendship she'll feel the same as me and if I can ask her first then I think I stand a good chance, at least that's what I'm telling myself. 

After school today we have football practice and y/n will be there as she plays with the team when she's allowed as the school doesn't have a girls team. I made sure to get changed quickly so I could be the first one out there so as soon as y/n was ready I could ask her out as we warm up. As she made her way outside she was talking to one of the other guys in the team Jack and she had a big smile on her face which isn't unusual but it did make me a little nervous. 

"Hey Jude" she said as she came over 

"Hi you seem extra happy today what's going on?" I asked 

"Jack just asked me out so we're going to go on a date this weekend as long as my parents let me but they like Jack so I'm confident" she said 

"Oh wow I didn’t know you liked him" I said trying not to give away my disappointment 

"I've liked him for a while but I never told anyone a I only ever get teased for saying I like anyone so I kept it to myself" she explained 

"Well I'm happy for you" I said completely lying 

It really broke my heart that she's with someone else but I really should've seen it coming she's the prettiest girl in school it was only a matter of time before someone asked her out. That doesn't mean it hurts any less but I'll get over it and at least we are still friends even if she can't be my girlfriend I can still hang out with her. 

15 years old - Your POV 

Maybe love just isn't for me. I've been with two guys over the last few years and both have cheated on me with one of my friends so I've lost a lot of friends but luckily I still have Jude. Since all the drama I spend a lot more time with him as I know he won't betray me and there's no drama surrounding him which is exactly what I want I don't care about being popular and having lots of friends anymore I just want true friends. I call Jude my friend but that's not really how I feel about him after spending more time together I realised that I truly enjoy Jude's company in a way I've never enjoyed being around anyone else. I'm not entirely sure when my feelings started to change but it must've been before my last boyfriend cheated on me as it hurt but I wasn't as upset as the first time because I just wasn't as emotionally attached anymore. 

I've had many chances to tell Jude how I feel but I just haven't been able to make myself do it. I'm not stupid I know there was a time when pretty much all of the guys in school had a crush on me Jude included but I don't know if he feels the same now. He used to get awkward around me which is what gave him away but he doesn't act like that anymore which makes me think that he doesn't like me that way anymore. Jude has been such a good friend to me since we were 5 but especially the last few years we are always together whether it be at lunchtime in school or kicking a ball around down the park at the weekend. I value our friendship so much that I can't bring myself to tell Jude how I feel, the possible rejection isn't worth our friendship to me.

I've put my feelings aside for a few months now but as it's approaching Valentine's Day and I hear my friends talking about that their boyfriends are doing for them it makes me a little sad and maybe a little jealous that I don't have that with Jude. In a completely genius move I'm spending the next few days with Jude helping him get some extra training in as he's playing a big match soon and he wants to play well and he likes to test his skills against me. Our plan is to go straight from school to the park where they have football pitch we can play around on until it gets dark. 

~~~~~~~~~~

"You're going to do great in that match you are definitely too much for me to be able to keep up with" I said 

"You're still coming back from injury though" he said 

"You still beat me fair and square like a million times trust me you've got this" I said 

"Do you have any plans Sunday?" He asked out of nowhere 

"Thats Valentine's Day right definitely no plans for that day" I laughed trying to make a joke of how sad my love life has been 

"Then would you like to go on a date with me?" He asked 

"What" I said completely in shock 

"That was stupid I'm sorry forget I ever said that" Jude panicked 

"No I would love to go on a date with you the question just took me by surprise I had no idea you still felt that way about me" I said 

"Wait, still you knew I had feelings on you" he said 

"Yeah you weren't exactly subtle a few years ago but now you are definitely better at hiding your feelings I had no idea you still liked me" I explained 

We laughed about it before actually planning our date after texting our parents to make sure they'd be willing to take us and make the reservation at the restaurant we wanted to go to for us as we aren't actually old enough to do that. On the way home from the park I couldn't stop smiling thinking about going on a date with Jude after all these years of friendship and feelings on both sides but never at the same time. When we got to my house Jude grabbed my hand and leaned in to kiss my cheek which made me blush like I've never blushed before but it felt right being with Jude in this way. 

19 years old 

I'd have never guessed that the airport would be so busy on Valentine's Day but I guess it makes sense with people going away or going to visit long distance partners which is what I'm doing so I guess I'm part of the problem. Since Jude went to Germany our relationship has changed quite a lot but we are still just as happy as before. Originally I was supposed to move with him and join Dortmund's women's team but I tore my acl over a year ago and haven't been able to play again since so instead I opted to go to university instead. Last year we couldn't be together to celebrate so we had a date over FaceTime but this year I'm surprising Jude as he has no idea I'm coming. With the help of some of his teammates who I knew well from coming to visit as much as I can I've planned dinner at a nice restaurant and then we are going to a show at a nearby theatre but most importantly I'm going to Jude's apartment to wait for him to come home from training to surprise him with it all. 

My flight landed a bit late but I got through the airport quickly so I managed to get to the apartment with about half an hour to spare before Jude is due home. I spent my time freshening up a bit and setting out the presents I got him on the coffee table. When I heard him opening the door I got up and ran to hide somewhere to really make it a surprise. He came in and saw what I'd left for him on the coffee table and started to read the card which is when I came out from the room I was hiding in and snuck up until I could sit next to him. I managed to make him jump then he just stared at me and didn't say anything. 

"What are you doing here?" He asked when he was able to speak 

"I thought I'd come and surprise you as we didn't get to spend valentines together last year" I said 

"I've missed you so much I'm so happy you're here" he said 

"I'm here for a few days so we can spend plenty of time together but tonight I have things planned for us so we need to get ready in an hour" I said 

"What have you planned?" He asked 

"We are going to dinner at that restaurant that you said is really nice and then afterwards we are going to the local theatre to watch a show" I said 

"That sounds amazing I'm so impressed you've managed to pull this off" he said 

"I had a bit of help so hopefully it all goes to plan" I said 

"As long as I get to be with you it doesn't matter what goes wrong I'll have a good time" he said 

21 years old - present day 

The last year or so has been a rollercoaster once Jude moved to Madrid and settled in I joined him to do my masters degree instead of staying home for another year. Because of all this last year we didn't celebrate valentines at all really as Jude was away for a game and I had exams but this year he's promised me he's going to go all out to make up for it. I have no classes today so Jude booked appointments for me to get my hair, nails and makeup done so all I have to do is pick an outfit when I get home which is already a lot but he made sure to make it clear that this is only the beginning. 

My first appointment was my hair appointment so I just got a trim and got it styled then came makeup which I left up to the makeup artist as she definitely knows better than I do. I already looked so much better just after that but I still had one more appointment. Jude remembered where I like to go to get my nails done so he booked the appointment with the girl I always go to so we got to catch up as it's been a while since I've had someone other than me do my nails. Usually I have ideas of what I want to do but this time I didn't so she suggested some someone French tips so that's what we did. My nail girl is good but today she took extra care in making sure they were perfect and wouldn't let me leave until she was happy but it was so worth it. 

After all of my appointments I felt really good about myself even more so when I got home and got dressed in the dress I decided I wanted to wear. Jude also put on his outfit which he looked so good in so I insisted that we take pictures together before we leave as we never both look this good one of us is always having a bad hair day so we have to take advantage of both feeling good about ourselves. After taking pictures Jude told me we needed to leave as there was a car waiting outside for us which was I was expecting to just be an Uber or something but it was actually a really fancy car. The driver greeted us and offered us glasses of champagne which is definitely not what I was expecting but Jude did say he was going to go all out so I should've seen it coming. 

The car took us to a really nice restaurant which surprisingly wasn't too busy despite it being Valentine's Day. The place was definitely decked out for the occasion as there were candles on all the tables and lots of roses all around including a few rose petals on each table. Dinner was lovely all of the food was amazing and we had a great time but that wasn't all Jude had planned so we got back into the car which took us to this beautiful park in the city. As it was dark no one else was around so we walked around for a bit and then made our way to the big lake in the middle of it. 

I was enjoying the view looking at the reflection of the moon in the water when I felt Jude's hand slip out of mine so I looked over to see if he was ok. When I did I saw him down on one knee holding a ring box. I really didn't expect Jude to propose tonight so I was shocked but also incredibly happy as he truly is the love of my life so getting married to him is something I've dreamed of a lot. Jude grabbed one of my hands while my other one went to wipe the tears that were falling down my face completely out of my control. 

"Y/n since we met when we were little kids we've had a connection that I've never experienced with anyone else and when we started dating I realised I was the luckiest person on earth get to be with my best friend and soulmate now I think it's time to ask if you'll marry me and be my valentine forever" he said 

"Y-yes of course I'll marry you" I managed to stutter out as he slid the ring on my finger

"Thank god I was so nervous you'd say no" he laughed 

"Why would I ever say no" I said 

"I don't know I was just worried you'd think this is too much or a bit corny to do it on Valentine's Day but this day has been important throughout our relationship so it felt fitting to get engaged on the day we had our first date all those years ago" he said 

"Its perfect it means so much to me that you thought so much about it that's what I really care about" I said 

"I can't wait to spend the rest of my life with you" he said 

"Me too" I smiled 

[weirdgenetic-fuckup]

PART TWO TO THE CLIFF'S SISTER THING PLEASEEEEEEEEEEE

A/n: Idk what else would happen in the second part, I hope soft smut is ok 😬

Warnings: Mostly fluff, light smut, grinding, fingering (f receiving), mentions of masturbation, if you think I missed anything let me know otherwise enjoy!

Part 1

A week had passed since Cliff's birthday, James never left, you didn't want him to. After he kissed you, his warm lips against yours when you were at your lowest, everything felt better.

Maybe it was a temporary fix, maybe Cliff was pulling his hair out from the heavens above, but you got better. Showering became a regular occurrence again, you didn't wear Cliff's clothes as often.

Most importantly, you got back into playing bass. You swore it started raining every time, hard, thunder and lightning, the whole thing.

James didn't leave your side, he held you at night, he went out for breakfast with you, cooked with you. Very rarely were you apart, maybe it was a bad thing, a sign you needed more help, but even a temporary fix was better than nothing.

You'd just gotten out of the shower and were brushing your hair as you came into your room, finding James already splayed out in bed waiting for you. He smiled at you, eyeing you in your towel. You rolled your eyes at him, not needing him to say a word to know what he was thinking.

You went to the closet, looking through your clothes and tossing a shirt along with a pair of shorts to the ground. "You don't really have to put those on, do ya?" James asked, sitting up in bed, eyes never leaving your figure. You gave him a look and turned your back to him, closing the closet door and bending over to pick up your shirt. "Might as well just drop the towel." James teased, though he was looking away out of respect.

You thought about it for a moment before dropping the cloth. James's eyes widened, cheeks heating up at the sight of you, even if you still had your back to him. "I don't really need clothes, do I?" You teased.

"Yes! Yes, you do, you-you really..." He trailed, gaze wandering back to you before he snapped his head back away. "You do, you definitely, definitely do." You giggled and got your clothes on before crawling into bed next to him. Your bed wasn't especially small, you didn't have to touch each other, but it was more comfortable to curl up to him.

James got comfortable with you, laying on his side and wrapping his arms around you. He kissed your forehead, sending a little jolt to your gut.

You laid curled up against him, listening to his heartbeat in the silence that fell across the room. "We should go on a date." James said abruptly.

You raised your brows and looked up at him. "A date?" You repeated. "Haven't we gone on one?"

James made a face and shook his head. "We haven't left the house." He said with a small shrug, a thought crossing his mind and concern started spreading over his features. "When, uh, when was the last time you left the house?" He asked, voice low so as to not come across too accusatorily.

You thought for a long few moments before finally answering. "A month, maybe... I never really left the house before Cliff died, I'm pretty sure it was grocery shopping." James listened, nodding along. He knew you were never exactly extroverted, he was surprised it had only been a month, and it made sense in September, but it was November now.

James exhaled softly and smiled warmly down at you. "So, a date, then? Just, like, a lunch, or something." You chewed your cheek, mentally debating it. You didn't want to say no, you wanted to go, but you didn't know if you could bring yourself to leave the house.

James saw your hesitation and knew what was going through your head, he wasn't as oblivious as people thought. "How about this, we say yes, and tomorrow you'll get all pretty and we'll go, BUT, and this is only, like, a backup plan, but we don't have to go, alright? No one's making you do anything."

It was a reasonable enough plan, you were going until you couldn't, it would work. Right?

You agreed and pecked his lips. Of course he chased the kissed, wanting more and more until your breathing was heavy and you were tugging on his hair.

James pulled you on top of him, his arms wrapping around you. His hands ran up and down your sides, grabbing your ass through your shorts. A soft groan left you as your hips bucked against him, rubbing on his hard on through his boxers.

"James-!" You gasped, pulling away a bit.

James's arms tightened around you. "Shh, shh, it's fine, just keep going." He encouraged, adjusting your position so your clothed cunt was pressed against his thigh, clit catching on the fabric of your shorts. "First date, first day outside together... we can have more firsts." He mused, pecking your cheek. "C'mere." He pulled you back down, letting you hide your face in the crook of his neck.

His hands went down to your hips, guiding you against his thigh. Low groans left him, your little thrust bumping his cock, it wasn't enough to make him cum but that wasn't his priority right now. He listened to your muffled whines, the little sounds you were making only adding to his arousal.

He made you feel so small, not in a negative way. He made you feel safe, protected, like nothing could get to you. James was bigger than you, taller, stronger, he wasn't one for fights but he was big enough that most people didn't even bother.

You'd never left the house with him, but you'd seen how people treat him. You knew what it felt like to be with him. "Jamie..." You muttered, lifting yourself up the best you could to look at him.

He smiled up at you, loving your reactions to grinding on him, your eyes filled with a desperation, pouty lips parted slightly. "You're doing so good, sweetheart, just keep going." He mused, hand slipping further down your body, dipping into your shorts.

He gave your ass a quick squeeze before the tip of his middle finger teased your hole. You gasped softly and he pushed it further in. "Keep going." His voice was low but firm, he didn't move his hand, letting you fuck yourself on it.

Your whines got needier and louder, a knot building in your gut. His name was the only thing filling your mouth, coming out in moans like a sultry mantra. The knot tightened before finally snapping and you were left a twitching mess on top of him.

James littered kisses all over your face, pulling his finger out of you as he did so. "You did so good, sweetheart, did so good for me." He purred. "Tired now, right?" He asked, letting you slide off of him when you nodded.

You laid by the wall, you preferred it because it let you sleep facing the wall while still feeling safe, James pressed firmly against your back, his arms wrapped around you.

This time you felt his cock against your ass. "You-you can keep going..." You muttered, out of breath.

James chuckled softly and shook his head, kissing the back of your back. "No, I'm staying until you fall asleep."

You looked back at him over your shoulder, eyes fluttering. "Until I fall asleep? Do you always wait until I fall asleep?" You asked, hoping against all odds he'd say no. How could he just leave you? He helped you fall asleep and then he just ditched?

"No, of course not." You let out the breath you'd been holding, relaxing more. "I'll stay until you fall asleep then I'll go to the bathroom, I'll be gone two, three minutes tops." He assured, placing more kisses along your neck and shoulder. "Sweetheart..." He spoke, waiting a moment before repeating himself. "Sweetheart?" He leaned over you seeing your relaxed expression, sleeping.

James kissed your cheek, despite saying he would leave he stayed put, making sure you weren't waking up before discretely making his way to the bathroom.

The next morning you went about your plan, smiling more than usual while he watched you do your makeup. It's not that you stopped smiling after Cliff, well, for a while you did, September would never be the same... maybe you did stop smiling and didn't want to believe it.

James didn't let go of you, always touching you in one way or another through dressing and breakfast, giving his opinions and encouraging you the whole way through, even going as far as tying your shoes for you.

The front door opened to a light drizzle, James's hand on your hip and he kissed your cheek. You leaned against him and he led you to his car which was still parked down the street.

The rain didn't let up, a low thunder rumbling in the sky.

Cliff approved.

[brick-van-dyke]

As the US election closes in and the final states take to the polls, I want to remind people to turn out and protest.

Yep, protest. Strike, disrupt, be out there on the street regardless of who you voted for or who wins. I expect to see you all out there demanding; access to abortion nation wide, protections against discrimination, free universal healthcare, a free Palestine, anti war, prison abolition, to increase the minimum wage, and for a US free of the electoral college and that counts votes as votes.

Yes, you can say "you should vote for Harris" and do so as much as you like, but do not forget the power you have through your own everyday actions away from the polls and that of protesting. Do not use the excuse that your right to vote means it's somehow more foundational or important than the right to protest. You have the ability to create direct action and that is so so important, please don't just expect a rich representative to stick to their promises every time you vote; you have power too, never forget that.

This system will not change until we, the people, make it. There is NO representative that can ever change the system that allowed them in, and likewise; this system will never allow a candidate that would stop it from continuing and/or ensuring its designated purpose of oppression and subjugation. Resist, regardless of the results.

Long live the resistance.

[uhbasicallyjustmilex]

oh my god oh my god oh my GODDDDDD i can’t BELIEVE i found these on my little rainy october thrift shop wander this morning. like, one would have been more MORE enough. but both?? at once??? i am quite simply floating and may never touch back down to earth

[mc-critical]

Bonus:

2.22 (46) / 2.24 (48) / 2.25 (49) / 2.35 (59) / 2.39 (63)

[bookshelf-in-progress]

I'm approaching the most terrifying part of the Exciting New Story Idea process: Writing it down.

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...