#just remember that everyone is boyfriends

[eupheme]

okay but someone (you !!!) should write a cute little oneshot of that tik tok trend where you call logan your boyfriend (even though he’s your husband) and he is just not!!! happy!!! and all pouty about it !!!

ORRRRR (if not maybe both 👀) one where Logan is your boyfriend and you call him your husband and he just melts and is so happy to be around you and in your presence

everything you do is amazing!!! 💖💖💖

ooh hi hi anon! I’ve seen this trend and it’s so cute to think about Logan being like ‼️ about it - I did a little drabble for each scenario! I hope you like them! 💖 (and ahh, thank you so much!)

little games | logan howlett x f!reader

800 words | logan pov, fluff, possessive thoughts

After another long shift, your smile is all he needs.

Unable to help the tired curve of his lips as he hears your voice - the “hi honey” that you coo, from where you lean against the kitchen counter.

Phone tucked against your ear, a notebook and colorful pens splayed out in front of you.

“Sound goods, Saturday is great. Listen, I gotta go-,” Your attention pulls from him, though his eyes linger as he crouches - working on the laces of his boots.

Standing, just as he hears the rest of your goodbye.

“-my husband just got home.”

He almost trips.

Warmth floods through him, a cock of his head as he wonders if he misheard.

But his senses always had been keen.

“Mhmm.” You hum - as he slowly crosses the room. Coming up behind you, arms wrapping around your waist just as you wrap up your call.

Unable to help the tilt of his head - pressing his lips against your neck. Inhaling you, that pretty layer of scents that now linger in his home.

Something stirs, as he lets his mind run free.

“Yep,” You squirm, your hand layering over his, “See you then. Bye!”

He only gives you just enough space to twist yourself around. Still pinning you against the counter, his eyes darkened.

“Hi.” You smile, tipping your lips up to his, “Missed you.”

It’s murmured back, just as his mouth presses to yours. Sweet, when his tongue licks against your lip, his hands slipping up to cradle your jaw.

Letting himself imagine, for just a minute. Still quiet, when you pull away - the mark between his brow deepening.

Never one to beat around the bush, the words slipping before he can think too much about it.

“Called me your husband.” He husks, “You know that?”

He should catch that you’re not caught off-guard. That there’s almost a guilty flicker in your eye, before you’re inhaling a breath.

Head tilting to match his. His eyes dropping to where your tongue peeks out to wet your lip.

“Sorry, baby. Must have slipped up,” You shrug, shyly, “Did it bother you?”

The name curls in his chest, slipping around his ribs. Only adding to the flicker of desire, the soft warmth that’s settled beneath his skin.

“No.” He husks.

Dipping to kiss you again. Hips pressing flush, the curving ridge of his jeans indicating exactly how it made him feel.

“Not when it’s you saying it.”

Logan never really minds meeting the people you grew friendly with.

You attract them in a way he never did. Picking up the names of everyone in the apartment complex long before he does. The couple that live on the floor above. The old man and his dog three doors down.

Your hand patting his chest, as you stop to chat with an older woman at the base of the stairs.

“You remember Logan, right?” You ask her, “My boyfriend.”

And suddenly, he minds. Head whipping towards you so quickly his neck almost cracks.

Eyebrow arching as the women - Gladys - coos over them, the words petering out to white noise as he frowns.

“Husband.” Logan cuts in, gruffly - the gold glinting off his finger as he reaches out to shake her hand.

You giggle. Gladys only exclaims - and it’s all he can do to keep his jaw from clenching so hard his teeth crack.

A hand at your back, already guiding you towards the apartment before your goodbyes are finished. Backing you against the door the second it’s shut, as you blink up at him.

“Tryin’ to be cute?” He asks - and he can hear the edge in his voice, “Another one of your little games?”

Knows he hit the nail on the head when your teeth sink into your lip. Biting back a smile, as your voice pitches up.

“What do you mean?”

He huffs. Hands flattening against the wood - seeing how your eyes go wide as he leans in.

“Calling me your boyfriend.” Logan grits out, “When we both know how fucking eager you were to take my name.”

How wet it makes you, when he has you beneath him. Fingers entwined, a matching ring around yours.

There’s hunger in your eyes. His lips ghosting against yours - pulling away just as you lean to kiss him.

“Uh-uh.” His head shakes, “What am I?”

You pout, but he only hums - expectant. Possessive.

Logan’s voice dropping low.

“Come on, baby.” He coaxes, “Lemme hear you say it.”

Your scent blooms sweet, and he almost groans. Lets your lips press against his this time, your answer breathed out.

“My husband.”

“That’s my girl.” He smirks.

Kissing you soundly, then.

Already imaging how the cool press of his ring will feel when he’s got three fingers buried deep inside you.

Maybe then you won’t ‘forget’.

[starstrucklucky]

The post text in case the link ever breaks.

The great Stop Fucking Him post

Mar. 4th, 2005 at 9:30 AM

Demure or something

This post won't be for everyone. If you're uncomfortable with hearty leftist political opinions, you might want to skip it. I've gone ahead and lj-cut it out of consideration for (a). people who'd rather pass on it and (b). people who are at work, and might prefer to skip repeated derivations of the word "fuck" in bold face type. That having been said, feel free to keep reading or move right along. I promise not to take it personally.

Edit: Yes, yes yes -- feel free to link

this wherever you like. I don't mind.

This is not about abortion.

If you read the article in its entirety, I think that much is obvious -- this is not about abortion. If this were about abortion -- specifically, about fewer abortions being performed -- then those interested in reducing that number would hop all over this bill. So I'll say it again, this is not about abortion.

This is about women having sex, and who gets to be in charge of that sex.

Well, really -- that's what it all comes down to, isn't it? At present, there is a movement in place to make sure that (to lift a phrase from Dan Savage) men have orgasms, and women have babies.

There are people in this world who very firmly believe that this is the natural order of things: men have orgasms, and women have babies. This is a sacred balance, whereby a man is made happy for two minutes and a woman spends the next nine months serving as host to a life-threatening parasite, then the next eighteen years held legally, morally, and fiscally responsible for the health and well-being of that parasite ... while the man is free to wander off or stick around at his leisure.

This is a balance that many, many people -- many of them in positions of power -- are willing to go to great lengths to enforce. Never mind that many (but not all) of these people are men, and are therefore unlikely to be held accountable for any parasite more complex than a tapeworm ... for some strange reason or reasons, these people want to make sure that it is very, very difficult for your average American woman to manage her reproductive system.

Most of the people who object to the wide, easy availability of birth control are men. These men have the luxury of assuming this position because they have no reason to believe that they, personally, have anything at stake. I find this baffling.

The solution is so obvious that it can be boiled down to three words: stop fucking them.

That's right. Stop fucking them.

If your man doesn't understand that if he's entitled to an orgasm, you're entitled to an unoccupied uterus -- stop fucking him. If he can't get it through his thick skull that his fleeting pleasure poses a mortal threat to you -- stop fucking him. No handjobs, no blowjobs, no orgasms for him whatsoever except by his own hand, until you can be completely assured of a baby-free future, at your discretion.

These men do not deserve access to your pants. Stop fucking them.

I don't know what you think you owe them, and I don't care how badly they whine or beg. I don't care if they're wonderful boyfriends otherwise. I don't care if you're married to them. Stop fucking them. It is still your body. It is still your call. Clearly, they do not understand this. So stop fucking them.

They will not die if you do not fuck them. Stop fucking them.

Remember: You can hold out longer than they can. I promise. Your sex toys are better,* your self-control is superior, and your stakes are higher. Stop fucking them. You deserve better. You deserve someone who is aware that your body is your domain, and who respects that. If he doesn't respect that, stop fucking him.

Just stop. Stop it. You deserve better, and he deserves a cold shower if he thinks he is entitled to control over your vagina and how you manage its daily operation. Stop fucking him if he thinks that someone other than you should determine what hangs around inside you. Stop fucking him, because he would sooner masturbate with a corkscrew than let you dictate how he receives his prostate exams.

Stop fucking him if he refers to birth control as your problem, then helps vote in legislation that makes it your really big fucking problem. Stop fucking him if he thinks that your inability to prevent conception should in no way prevent him from having sex with you.

It's not that complicated.

Stop fucking him.

Stop it. Seriously.

Christ.

* And illegal in some states. Coincidence? I think not.

Attn: conservative men

[caitified]

meeting caity at a gay bar in indy while she’s trying to be dl???? smut???

nobody knows

caitlin clark x reader

warnings: part one, there will be a smut part 2 this is just the build up. NOT PROOF READ

you’re sipping on your drink, comfortably settled against the bar, when you catch her glancing your way. she’s gorgeous, no doubt about it. she isn’t your usual type, but something is drawing you to her. luckily, she feels the same. there’s a slight hesitation in her step, but something compels her forward, bringing her closer until she’s only a couple of feet away.

she’s trying to play it cool, but there’s a subtle nervousness in her eyes as she leans in, voice low, like she’s hoping no one else will hear. “hey,” she says, glancing around the room, “do you… come here often?”

you give her a once-over, intrigued by her nervous nature. “only every now and then. but i think i’d remember if i’d seen you here before.” you smile, watching her cheeks flush as she ducks her head for a second.

she shifts, looking down at her drink. “i’m kind of new to this scene… well, not exactly new, just…” she falters, and you can tell there’s a story behind her words, something she’s holding back.

you tilt your head, encouraging her without pushing. “i get it. this place isn’t for everyone. takes a certain level of comfort to be here.”

her eyes dart up, and she gives you a faint smile. “yeah, i’m working on that.”

for a moment, she just stares at you, lips parted like she’s about to say something, then stops. finally, she says, “you probably know who i am, don’t you?”

“maybe,” you reply, giving her a teasing grin. “i’ll keep your secret safe, though.”

her shoulders visibly relax at that, and she steps a little closer, her gaze flickering over you like she’s taking you in properly for the first time. “thanks. i… i don’t usually do this. i have a boyfriend, actually.”

there’s something in her tone that makes you think she’s explaining it as much to herself as she is to you. you nod, not wanting to push her, but there’s undeniable tension between you two — a tension she’s clearly fighting against but failing.

“fair enough,” you say softly, not stepping back, just letting her linger in your space. “i won’t judge if you just want some company tonight. whatever that means.”

she bites her lip, hesitating, and you can almost see her weighing out her options in her mind. but then, something in her shifts, as if she’s decided to let go of the weight of those thoughts, at least for tonight.

“maybe i don’t want to just stay here tonight,” she murmurs, voice barely above a whisper.

your heart skips a beat, but you keep your cool, nodding. “then let’s get out of here.”

she follows you outside, the air wrapping around you both as you step out of the bar. you walk side by side in silence, and finally, she looks over at you, her guard completely down for the first time. she reaches for your hand, squeezing it, almost like she needs the reassurance.

you smile, giving her fingers a soft squeeze back. she’s still nervous, but you can feel her growing comfort as you make your way back to your place, anticipation building between you two.

once inside, the tension is almost unbearable. she hesitates for a fraction of a second before finally closing the distance between you, her lips capturing yours in a kiss that’s both hesitant and hungry. you feel her let go, surrendering to this moment she’s been trying to fight……

to be continued…if you want this to go a certain way or have certain things involved, let me know.

[lqveharrington]

Golden Snitch | R.L.

summary: you convince remus to dress up together and everyone LOVES the costumes

pairing: remus lupin x fem!reader

includes: underage drinking, cursing, kissing, Sirius and reader behaving like siblings, overall fluff

a/n: poll is releasing tmr to vote for this or the draco one!

Although Remus wasn’t big on dressing up for Halloween, you absolutely adored it. Since your childhood, you always looked forward to the holiday and the tacky outfits from the spirit store down the street. Since Remus’ childhood, the holiday only reminded him that everyone found werewolves terrifying as death itself.

But you made sure to change all his horrid memories to good ones the second you met.

Over the years, you slowly coaxed Remus into dressing up and having fun on Halloween, especially when his best friends threw the Gryffindor party every year. When you began dating, the costumes you made him wear became couple costumes. Some of your favorites being Phantom of the Opera, Beauty and the Beast, and The Great Gatsby.

This year — your final year at Hogwarts — you wanted to wear something that would be talked about for years. You wanted something so spectacular that it would be remembered. Luckily, you had just the couples costume in mind.

“Remind me again, why do you need a quidditch uniform?” James threw a curious look to Remus who was currently reading Little Women, a book you made him read for entertainment purposes. “If you’re telling me you’re joining the quidditch team during your last year, I’ll go bloody mad.”

“I’m not.” Remus flicked the page and sipped on his tea beside him, glancing at James from the corner of his eye. “Just need to borrow one.”

Remus, James, and Sirius have gone through this dance about ten times. Each one ending in the talk of the latest play before James sobered up and asked about the uniform again. It was a never ending cycle of bickering.

Sirius threw a crumpled piece of plastic at Remus’ head as the painting opened up, earning a loud sigh from the boy himself. “Yeah, but why do you need to borrow one?”

“Don’t throw stuff at Remus, Black.” You huff and make your way over to the trio, flashing your loving boyfriend a smile as his hand made their way to your hip. “What did they do this time?”

“Why are you assuming we did something?”

“Yeah, we’re saints!” Sirius dropped down on the couch beside Remus, sending you an oh-so innocent smile.

You roll your eyes at him and flash him your favorite finger, “Says the devil himself.”

“Hey—!”

“They were asking why I needed a quidditch uniform.” Remus cut Sirius off before you two could argue for the nth time.

It was like you two were always fighting over him — which he had to admit — was funny to see unfold each time. Remus laced his other hand with yours and returned your attention back to him, thumb rubbing your pulse point.

“How’s your thing going?” He murmured when you sat beside him and rested your head on his shoulder, shifting his body to block Sirius from your sight.

You shrug, “Lily and I have been working on it. We’ll be done even before the holiday.”

“You two are so ominous, I don’t like it.” James shuddered, which earned a glare from you and an eye roll from Remus. “What? It’s obvious you two are planning something and not telling us.”

“Okay, well, I’m done with this conversation.” You sighed and pressed a quick kiss to Remus’ lips, looking like the love sick fool that you were. “I love you, and I’ll see you in a bit.”

You made quick steps up the girls’ dorm after Remus reciprocated the notion and left the three boys back to their dwelling.

“Why does she hate us and love you?” Sirius grumbled and popped a jelly bean into his mouth, grimacing at the flavor and spitting it out.

“Maybe because she’s dating him and not us?” James threw him an annoyed look.

Remus blocked out their bickering and went back to reading. He loved you and you loved him, and that’s all he needed to know. Besides, it was the boys who practically begged him to ask you out since first year. They knew he was smitten with you the second you both met on the train.

Eventually, James did lend Remus an unused quidditch uniform while you and Lily finished your costume for Halloween. The only thing left to do was perfect the actual look and win the couples contest.

“Hell, are you dressing up as one of our quidditch players for Halloween?” Sirius raised his brows in surprise as Remus shuffled out of the bathroom with said uniform on. “Which Gryffindor did you dress up as?”

“No one.” Remus replied in a bored manner and adjusted the leather gloves he had on. “I’m just a quidditch player.”

“Uh-huh. So you definitely didn’t dress as Prongs or I?”

“No.”

Sirius gave him an unimpressed look and shrugged on his vest for his Indiana Jones costume. “Whatever you say… Anyway, Prongs and the rest of them are already down there and I’m not waiting for you any longer if you’re going to gel your hair back.”

“Yeah, I’m going.” He grumbled and adjusted his uniform before following Sirius down the stairs and into the ongoing Halloween party.

The red lights flickered about as the music practically shook the entire room. Remus scanned the vicinity for you, struggling until Sirius almost dropped dead at the sight of you. It was the same reaction everyone had to seeing you dressed in… That.

“Holy fuck. Your girlfriend is wearing the shortest dress in existence.” Sirius gaped and earned a smack to the head from Remus.

Remus watched you dance and jump with Lily, eyes shining bright with joy when they met his. You beamed so bright and almost elbowed everyone in your way to make it to him. He caught you in his arms as you kissed him senseless, hands coming to rest on his cheeks.

“Hey, dovey.” He finally spoke when you both parted for air, thumbing your jaw softly. “You look absolutely stunning in gold.”

“Of course, I do, Rem! I’m a Gryffindor!” You laugh and eyes his outfit like he was a three course meal. “It’s interesting seeing you dressed in quidditch robes for the first time.”

“Yeah?” He continued to thumb your jaw in a doting manner. “Well if I did play, I plan on you being the snitch every game. I wouldn’t play otherwise.”

You tilt your head and meet his eyes with so much love. Now that you and Remus were standing together, your costumes made so much sense. It wasn’t just a quidditch player and a golden fairy, it was a seeker and the golden snitch. Sirius looked between the both of you before gasping and clapping his hands in realization, those around you looking over as well.

“Aren’t you two the cutest pair!” He gushed and pinched Remus’ cheek at the revelation.

Smacking Sirius’ hand away, you rested your chin on Remus’s shoulder to prevent him from doing such thing again. Remus laughed at you two and rubbed your back.

“You know, Marlene is looking for you, Siri.” You practically shout over the loud music.

“Is she?” He perked up at the mention of the girl he had been talking to recently. “Well then… I will catch up with you two later.”

You waited a little longer before laughing loudly at your own doing. Was Marlene really looking for him? No, but Sirius was always there whenever you wanted to be alone with Remus. Before you could stop laughing, Remus swatted your ass playfully in response to the poor prank.

“Hey—!” You pout jokingly, laughing again when Remus shook his head at you with an upturned smile.

As the night carried on, the crowd grew bigger, the music louder, and the drinks more alcoholic. It got to the point where you and Remus were too drunk to be the responsible ones in the group. Oddly enough, you both drank more than anyone else in the group.

However, you both won the couples costume contest and — for some reason no one could explain the next day — you decided to give a speech to the mass of Gryffindors in the common room about winning the contest. It wasn’t your proudest moment, but it was your last year.

Clambering on top of the wooden tables, you stumbled over your own legs as Remus tried to stabilize you. Lily, who was the responsible one for the night, rubbed her forehead in exasperation. She didn’t want to necessarily stop you. You were a whiny drunk, and it would be impossible to stop you from something you wanted to do.

“Wait wait — hiccup — I would like to thank the committee,” You hold your red cup close to your chest, your cheeks almost as bright as the cup. “Lily Evans — hiccup — the quidditch team, and my ever so loving boyfriend — hiccup — for making this all possible!” You throw your arms in the air, earning cheers from the crowd.

“What committee?” Sirius looked at Lily with a confused look, pointing between him and James. “Us?”

She shrugged and watched you jump down from the table, snickering when Remus nearly had a heart attack from your way of getting down. She made sure you both were okay before returning to James’ side, pointing you both out to him.

“You’re gonna be the — hiccup — death of me.” Remus tucked his head in between your neck and shoulder, nudging his nose on your exposed skin. “Don’t do that.”

“M’sorry.” You giggle and stumble slightly at the weight being put on you. “You baby.”

He kissed your cheek, “No.”

“Yeah.”

“No.” He dragged you over to the dormitory stairs. “Hi.”

You giggle and trace the scars on his face, “Hey.”

“You’re cute.” He melted into your hands and pecked your palm. “Really really cute.”

“You wanna know a secret, Rem?” You murmur and hiccup when he tugged you impossibly closer. “I promise it’s really cool.”

“What is it?” He pressed kisses everywhere he could, putting more attention to your lips.

“I love you.” You whisper against his lips and fully kiss him, the taste of firewhisky strong. “So much.”

He smiled into the kiss and parted briefly, thumbing your lip. “You want to know my secret, dovey?”

“What?” You look up and meet the hazel eyes you’ve come to love.

“I love you more.”

©lqveharrington - all rights reserved. do not copy, translate or share my work on other media platforms

[2demondogs]

With Chrismas around the corner (not really but basically), i would love an Arthur x GN!reader where Arthur proposes to reader for Chrismas and they obviously say yes because, well, it's Arthur, who wouldn't?

Anon did you read my mind. I was just thinking about proposal fics when you sent this ask because I have yet to stumble on one somehow... I'm sorry this took forever btw T-T

Shoutout to my platonic boyfriend for helping me with ideas because I got writer's block <3

Words: 3k oh my good lord Tags: canon divergence (it's just people leaving the gang a chapter early), Arthur does not have tuberculosis, INSTANT spoilers for character death, cheesy shit

It's been too long, you're realizing, since holidays like Christmas felt like special things. There is a double-edged feel to this one — it is the first since Hosea's death, since leaving the gang — but it is the first, in a very long time, that you've spent in the so-called right way: in a warm house with four solid walls and someone you love, how those fanciful books Mary-Beth used to talk your ear off about always wrote.

The house is warm enough, anyways.

There's work that needs done on the cabin. Some of the wood is rotting out and chipped at the corners, forming into sharp splinters that you've brushed against one too many times, but it is a house. You haven't had this pleasure since before joining the gang.

Sometimes, with how content Arthur seems at baseline, you wonder if he's had this pleasure since early childhood. On quieter evenings, ones less reserved for happiness than this one, there has been clipped discussion about how Arthur has never had domesticity like this. Silently, it was an admission of how good it is to share this freshness with you.

During a ride into town, he'd admitted that he had never picked up painting because it was the sort of thing only steady folks got to enjoy. You'd gotten him a set of oil paints when no one was looking — he's worth much more than a few measly dollars, but that means little if you haven't got them to begin with. Some habits die hard; he was happy you remembered what he'd said only a few hours before.

Come the new year, Arthur plans to find work that will pay. New things are a luxury neither of you care much to indulge in, but the repairs will take lumber and maybe a few extra hands. Ones with more expertise, at least, because Arthur's houses usually have not had foundations.

You could simply move now that time has passed, yes. You could find somewhere much farther away, maybe even New York, and pack yourselves in alongside the other sardines bustling about a city, undetectable in uniformity. Shave beards, got jobs, change clothes, cut hair and color it, too, if paranoia strikes— but keeping low to the ground has worked itself out so far, and there is no more of that deathlike stagnation in the air of this place.

Sentimentally, you think this Christmas will seal off whatever makes this cabin yours. Shadows linger, there's been a few odd creaks that've spooked the horses, and maybe it's going to shit a lot quicker than either of you want to admit, but it's your shit-house and the shared stubbornness between you has always brought you nothing but closer to one another.

Arthur is tired of running, and so are you. Last week, he talked about writing to Mary-Beth and Simon, maybe checking if Kieran — the utterance of the man's proper name was a confirmation of the last of that stockholmlike regret having worked out of his system — had broken and followed his little girlfriend. It wasn't said with malice, just some amusement.

"Why do you think he would?" You'd asked.

"Dutch only saves people who don't ask for it," he'd said, and that wistful look in his eyes vanished before you could ask what it meant.

Maybe it's the hard work that makes it feel like a real, true holiday. Pearson and Grimshaw stopped working everyone harder in the winter over the years, once the familial glamour faded with each new addition to the gang. It was no longer a tight-knit group, but a posse, more or less, of runaways and strays all against a big, evil thing like the rest of the world, or whatever it was that Dutch grew to fear.

Since November, Arthur has been saving the best catches to be salted and stored for Christmas dinner. Each addition is cleaner skinned and cut than the last, and the newfound worst of them ended up being ate upon his return from hunting. You've both been saving back herbs since summer, dried and ready to be crumbled into the heated up pot come time for a real feast. Cornbread was made by hand for the first time since you settled down here, drizzled with honey from the general store a ways out.

The latter was Arthur's only specific request for a fancy dinner. If you hadn't gotten him a single gift save for making it, he'd still be happy as a clam.

He's been putting that goddamned honey on everything. You're glad he seems to be enjoying things again, not as tightstrung as he was before you'd made off with him. That's how it feels, anyways, after the long and struggling conversations that were had before the decision was made. Family or life? It's a hard question for someone who has such little concept of either.

Now, the grey hair in his beard is catching the light from the fireplace where he's sat himself on a chair before it. They'd sprouted through the sun-bleached blond atop his head has been looking lighter and lighter in recent months, grey finally catching up to the discoloration and giving him some malcolored sort of tabby look. It's a good one on him, as much as he complains about looking old as dirt and that it's all formed by stress.

For all the lacking color, it adds a ruddy warmth to his face. Daydreams of growing old together find you when you focus on it, or on his wheezing laugh that's gotten worse with the cold weather. Despite the woolen vest he's been sporting, his fingers are as chilled as yours whenever they've brushed. Idly, you wonder if he's gotten whatever Hosea grew into, then remember they were never by blood.

Arthur hadn't wanted you to get him any gifts. When you asked if he would get you something, he'd flushed and changed his mind, apparently already having done it.

Whatever it is, it's good-sized, wrapped in one of the dustcloths you'd gotten him alongside the paints. He's been spending more time painting, lately, tucked in the treeline and looking over the cabin or deeper into the woods, studying something plein air the way those professionals do. He'd propped it against the wall this morning, and once you've settled on the floor before the fireplace — too cold outside not to crowd close to it — after dinner, he looks between you and the cloth like he isn't sure what to do.

"D'you wanna do the honors?" He asks, and grins although the twitch of his eye tells you he's covering timidity with faux cockiness.

"You go ahead," you say, half because he's closer. Tormenting him in small ways must be part of any good gift.

The painting is an image you recognize. A photo that one of the girls took for you months before things went down the hole, using the camera Arthur was loaned by some feller in town who wanted photos taken for a book. He never returned it, and it more or less became something he tucked beneath his cot and let the elements beat around. You can't remember, now, who it was or where he went to get it developed.

The little inkling of pride you felt knowing he kept putting off getting the negatives developed — not enough money, not enough time — yet was gone the next morning to have yours developed returns, now.

It's a much nicer rendition of it, your clothes not dirty and his arm around your waist, the other holding his hat to his chest. It's clear he preferred to give your portrait more detail, his own lagging somewhere behind in clarity and looking closer to the photo. You suppose it's easier to look at someone besides himself, but there's a clearer enjoyment in the lines of you, more care taken in the color mixes.

Ignoring the dense joy of the implications of that, of how obvious it is, proves difficult. Your cheeks twinge some from the wide smile before you realize you're even reacting.

"You'll be a big name someday," you say, and he may as well shrink in on himself beneath the praise, although he's heard it plenty of times before.

"Naw," he waves a hand. "Quit that."

"Really, Arthur." Scooting closer, laying your hands over his knee. He's moving his jaw when your eyes meet his, lays a hand over one of yours, heavy and warm. "It's beautiful. I love it."

"Good," he says. His jaw clicks. "I— uh, I love you."

The hunting knife you got for him seems small, though relatively equal. Arthur looks as pleased as ever studying it, half-mumbling appraisals of yeah, nice and sharp, sturdy to himself that likely would've stayed inside his head, if it weren't for wanting to show you he liked it.

A bone handle, which he feels over with his fingers before noticing it's engraved, fits easy in his palm. You were afraid you push your luck with maintaining its quality too far adding the tiny, vague bear shape next to the deeper cut of his name. Already impressive was the fact that you hadn't ruined it with the letters, being one of your first expeditions into anything of the sort.

"I would've gotten you one of those folding knives," you explain. "But they don't hold up as well, and I know you have one."

The army knife was Hosea's.

"Needed me a new huntin' knife," Arthur says. You know, because he's complained about his current one being close to snapping with all the skinning he does anymore. He squints at the handle, turns it over in the light from the fire. "Did you engrave the handle?"

"Yessir."

He smiles. "It's real nice," he says, pats his palm with the blade softly. It makes a dull noise, sturdy metal on skin. "Why a bear?"

"They remind me of you," you admit. Really, you'd spent a long time considering what else to add, because only his name seemed so plain; although he wouldn't be opposed to flowers or vines, they are a little more intricate than a simplified bear head. "Big and strong. Hairy, too. I'd like to hug one."

He snorts a laugh, but it seems thin. His eyes are fond enough on you that it couldn't be any rejection of your words, and so you brush it off. "You wanna hug a bear?" He asks.

"In a perfect world," you amend. "Don't they look warm?"

"You'd better stick to me," he says, smooths a palm over the thigh of his jeans. The nicest pair he owns, he promised you, because he feels ridiculous in slacks and seems to think you care what he wears.

Beyond thinking everything looks well on him, at least. You often find yourself concerned with that thought.

"I got you somethin' else," Arthur starts, running a finger over the bunched inseam at his own knee. "Well, uh— it's f'both of us, really."

Isn't that intriguing, you think, but your silent, undivided attention seems to make him outright nervous, so you say: "Oh?"

Some conflict happens over his face as he pulls his vest collar away and reaches into the inner pocket, takes out a stack of thin papers that he glances over before apparently relenting to something. Confusion finds you, until he takes a deep breath and holds them towards you.

"Read these," is all he says, and he sounds like it's almost painful.

He's written much, much more than that. Your stomach turns, once or twice, realizing they are pages from his journal. Uncertain why, until the first entries which are skittering on affectionate fade into ones much more flowery. They are all about you, days you'd spent together or times you hadn't, the things you've given him over the years and the things he wished he could've given you.

Each page makes your chest feel tight with a panicked joy, as if his hands were not fiddling with the new knife to occupy — distract? — himself but clenching hard at your heart.

One, near the beginning, says he thought of pickin' a pretty lil' flower, God bless it, I feel ridiculous; on the back of the next is pressed a variegated tulip, crumbling with age but holding firm to whatever adhesive glues it to the paper. Again, that creeping smile, like thyme. Another entry is entirely about your hair, because it had brushed his arm. Only a few sentences made up that page, below the cursive a choppy sketch of your horse.

Certainly, Arthur stays busy in his head. You've always known as much, but never figured any of it was about you. Not like this, anyways, though the dates spread from the week before Blackwater and you can only wonder what laid in that journal he lost before.

"Oh, Arthur," you start, looking up from a third-way through, feeling giddy but not wanting him to watch you so intently while you finish them. No wonder he was shy. It's his heart. "You're so sweet."

"Finish readin' 'em," Arthur says, doesn't meet your eyes at first. When he does, they're gentle. "They get sweeter, y'know, better finish 'em. 'Cause of that."

He is nervous. Hardly moving, besides the tongue running over his teeth beneath his lips, and the rambling every time he opens his mouth. You don't mind, never have. He's endearing like this.

Outings you'd went on infrequently, the dates of his favorites underlined, you're noticing, based on the tone of his words in them; his worries and fears about courting you, and some of what you mean to him though, with its succinctness, you have a feeling he wouldn't dare put all of his genuine love to findable paper; things he likes about you, and one page where he admits that he cannot keep himself from documenting you in every other entry, which tells you this small collection is hardly everything. The previous entries turn over in your mind again, and you are struck on a random page for a moment as their meanings take hold, realizing they were especially sliced from his journal to show you.

The entries leading to the last are what set your mind and pulse ablaze. From the first appearance of the word marriage, you swallowed your idea of what may be coming — Arthur's breathing changing beside you doesn't help any, and it certainly does not help that he leans down once you've reached the last page, plucking it from your hands. Before he does, you notice quite a few crossed out lines, scribbles as if he were frustrated with not being able to find the right words.

"Think I've got the balls on me to read this one aloud, at the very least," he says, voice laced with a chuckle. Breath comes uneasy, but you collect yourself enough to gather the pages back into a neat, ordered stack in your lap. "Unless you'd rather spare me," he adds, nudges your knee with the toe of his shoe.

"No." Your voice sounds strange, even to you. "Do me the honors."

Arthur bites his cheek, nods and lets it fall as he smiles. Still, his hand finds the back of his neck, the page held between two fingers that remain surprisingly steady. The knife lingers in his hand beneath it, and isn't it just like him to propose holding a weapon.

Propose. It takes its first toll on you, rolls over your back in shards of tingling.

"December twenty-fifth, eighteen ninety-nine," he starts, eyes flicking to your face every other word until the intensity of your gaze must make him too anxious. "It's a nice little life, livin' with the one I love," — rubbing his mouth, sighing some — "Jesus, I always gotta be sappy." You laugh, though it comes out more forceful than you intended, and relax some until he continues. "The thought of another day where anythin' could happen 'n' we ain't bound is somethin' I hate."

Arthur pauses, stands up and places the journal entry on his chair. You take his hands when he holds them out to where you sit, grunting when he hauls you off the ground with more force than you expected, feet shuffling into place to stick all-too-close to his. His hands are burning, skin feverish when you grab his wrists, as if you'd ever want to stop him as he eases onto a knee before you.

And his eyes throw you off balance, too, catching the light just enough that you can tell they are stinging. So are your own, now that you think about it, but intelligent thoughts go out the window once you sense him about to speak.

"I wanna be 'til death do us part," Arthur confesses, fumbles to catch both of your hands in his in an awkward, squeezing hug of a hold.

The way your bones catch on one another, well— it's not a sensation you'll forget, like the first time he kissed you and you felt it still a week later, warm pressure on your mouth if you got too lost in the memory. He looks as good, looks so nice, and you know your fingers would be shaking if he weren't crowding them together, steady.

When he says your name, the blood is rushing through your ears too loud to hear it clearly; you almost want to ask him to do it again. "Will you marry me?"

Nodding, face slack before it spreads in a grin. "Yes," you say. "Of course I will."

His is hidden by how he lets go of your hands, catching them before they fall in stupid, limp joy back to your sides. He lays kisses along the knuckles, all three rows of them. It's so awfully saccharine and yet you could never tell him to quit being sweet— not now, not as he stumbles to his feet after you pull him up and shake off his hold to grab his face, tugging him into a kiss.

Arms come around your waist, squeeze tight enough to hurt, or to hold in place. Arthur runs a hand over your back, breaks the kiss to slide a hand into your hair and press your face to his chest, caging you in his arms. He smells warm, like good cologne, and you know he's been planning this.

[lightlycareless]

The oneshot we were all expecting!!!!!! Or at least the one I so desperately wanted to write 🥹 I just adore our two little lovebirds in this setting—their first kiss and date ajkhgjkaghjkahgjkahsgjkashkgaskghaj ANYWAYS

warnings: highschool au. naoya is completely evangelized so don't expect his usual shenanigans. he's also somewhat of an obnoxious dork. fluff. also minimal proofreading (?)

Happy reading!!

[I’m almost there!! There was a small delay on the train, but I’m almost there I swear!! I’m sorry, please wait for me 🥺]

Naoya must’ve re-read your last message a thousand times, but far from making him angry, or even easing his anxiety… it just made him feel worse.

As if the seconds he spent waiting for you weren’t agonizing enough, now that he knew you were very close, he couldn’t help but worry about your reaction. If you’d approve of him, his itinerary for the day—

Or most importantly, his appearance.

Up to that point you had only seen him in his everyday boring jujutsu uniform, with a few exceptions of casual attire after class. Never situations where actual effort beyond the bare minimum was placed.

So naturally, he had to go all out on your first date with him.

Was it too much?

Maybe. Though some would argue this… style was expected of him. Expensive, borderline excessive, from head to toe black in brands many could only dream of affording—it was obvious that Naoya had money to spend, and he wanted the whole world to know.

Mostly you. Everyone else he really didn’t care for—he just wanted you to know what he was willing to do and provide for you. Nothing more, nothing less. 

And such was his determination that he almost forgot another important matter, the one that ended up affecting him the most ultimately: his reaction to seeing you all dressed up for the date.

With a black short skirt alongside a beige oversized turtleneck, accompanied by black thighs that sparked something inside him… Naoya simply wanted to scoop you up and gush at your adorableness. He literally didn't think you capable of being any prettier, and yet, here you were, proving him wrong. Just like every day.

“I’m so sorry Naoya, I hope you weren’t waiting for too long!” you breathed, rushing to his side. Even if you had kept him waiting, all those silly trivialities disappeared the moment you stepped into his sight. 

“You didn’t.” he lies, doing his best to contain the blushing mess settling on his face. “I just got here.”

“That’s not true.” You giggle. “You’ve always been punctual!”

Yes, that's true. And when it comes to you he was far worse; in fact, for today he had actually arrived three hours earlier just to make sure that all the places in his itinerary were still available. 

Naoya had reservations anyways, but there’s always some fool...

“The same way you’re always pretty.”

Now it’s your turn to fluster; what a nice way to turn the tables.

“You’re not so bad yourself, boyfriend.”

Naoya smiles; he's been waiting so long to earn that title, and naturally, it's much sweeter than what he imagined.

“You ready to go?” he asks as he takes hold of your hand.

“Yeah!” you nod eagerly, squeezing him back. “Where are we going first? The aquarium?”

“Yes. Unless you’re hungry, princess. If so, we can get a bite.”

“No, I’m not hungry yet. But I guess we could get  something to drink.” You suggest, already looking through your options.

“Whatever you want, and don’t hold back. Remember it’s all on me.” 

Your heart fluttered at his words. 

“Thank you.”

He smiles.

Naoya had previously scoured the area for nothing but the best coffee shops to give you the most amazing experience possible, nothing short of suitable for his little mochi…

Though his efforts would ultimately be for naught, since you’d take him towards a personal selection instead, initially a recommendation from one of your classmates, now your favorite spot. 

But it wasn’t all bad as Naoya feared, in fact, it was much better than he anticipated; the pastries, while peculiar, were surprisingly tasty. Even for someone like him who wasn’t all too fond of sweets. Yet, what he liked the most was the cozy ambiance that set for an… intimate setting.

“You know, you’re awfully cute when you do that.” Naoya murmurs, a sly smile as he places his hand over yours, inching closer to you.

“When I do what?” you ponder curiously.

“Don’t act coy now, you know what I mean.”

“But I’m not… doing anything.” you frown.

“Is that so?” Naoya laughs.

“Don’t tease me…” you murmur. Your poor heart was already on the brink of bursting out of your chest by the happiness of being so close to him brought you—

You almost passed out once he got much, much closer to you, pressing his thumb at the left corner of your lips and wiping the remnants of your delicious tiramisu…

“Oh, Naoya—that’s—!” you covered your face with your hands. “Stop it! You’re just trying to embarrass me…!”

“Hmmm… really? How could I possibly do that?”

“You—you know what I mean! Don’t act like you don’t!”

Well, you’d better get used to this playful side of Naoya if you’re to be his girlfriend, for he doesn’t intend to stop anytime soon—though he briefly manages to stop when in the aquarium.

Yes, even for someone “cool” like him, the aquarium was quite enjoyable by itself, the kind of place he wouldn’t mind returning to later on again…

Especially if he gets to admire you gleefully observing the fishes, gushing at the ones you considered pretty, if not odd, while taking pictures of them.

There’s just… something about seeing you like this that makes his heart feel warmer, tighter, his feelings for you growing stronger the longer he stares at you, eventually leading him to the thought he’s plentifully considered before—but never brave enough to push for it.

But now… considering all this… he believes perhaps, it’s finally time for that.

Nonetheless, he’s yet to traverse his biggest obstacle, which is setting up everything for that to happen— if it was even meant to occur in the first place. 

Just consider this: Naoya is intimidated by the notion of asking you for a picture, hiding his phone as soon as you turn around to face him.

“It’s—It’s nothing.” He stammers, looking away as he promptly shoves his phone down his pocket. “Just wanted to check something—I think I got a message or something...”

“You know… if you want a photo of me all you have to do is ask.” You suggest, moving closer to him and intertwining your arm with his, resting your head into his shoulder. To think that just a few moments ago the roles were reversed… Oh, how you adored Naoya. “Might even throw in a pose or two for my shy boyfriend.”

“I’m not shy.” Naoya frowns.

“No, of course not.” You giggle, standing on your toes and kissing his cheek. “Never.”

Once done with the aquarium, Naoya’s itinerary continued to the nearby mall, where he’d encourage you to buy something nice—or more like force you to do it yourself, since he was set on purchasing whatever he assumed you’d enjoy. So, if you don't want to end up with things you might not like, you better step up— before getting something to eat.

But while most of his plans were made with the purpose of distracting you, he won’t deny that he’s greatly benefiting from them too; because once he set his mind in achieving that today, Naoya turned into nothing less of an anxious mess, constantly wondering what he needed to do to achieve the same thing he’s been dreaming of since he’s set his eyes on you. 

As well as trying to overcome the insecurities that came with it, what could ultimately ruin the small relationship he was starting to build with you.

What if you didn’t want to? What if you accepted this date to get to know more of him, deciding the best way to continue was by taking things even slower?

If so, he’d only ruin everything with his silly request!

But this—this isn’t anything new. A lot of couples have done it many times! And will continue to do so even after the two are no longer around. 

«Don’t you think if this is something she wanted to do,  she would’ve told you already?» Naoya cruelly scolds himself. «If I make this decision myself, I’ll only end up pushing her away—»

“Are you ok, Naoya?” you ask, having noticed how eerily silent he’s become since… a while ago, really. “You haven’t even tasted your ramen”

“Ah, yes— I’m fine.” He responds, wiping the sweat off his hands on his coat before looking at you. “I just remembered there’s an assignment I need to do.”

“Oh, is it urgent? We can head back if you—”

“What? No! Why would you suggest that?!” Naoya gasps, you blink. “I—I mean—I still want to spend more time with you in the city.”

You press your lips together.

“Are you sure it’s nothing? We can always go out another time…”

“No. I want today to be special, it’s our first date, after all.” You blush.

“Alright, I’ll believe you.” You say, smiling. “But only if you eat, if not, we’ll head back to the school!”

Maybe filling his stomach will ease his nerves, an empty stomach was never a good basis to make decisions on. 

And yet, it simply made his uneasiness grow bigger, if not worse—like he could puke at the mere thought of disappointing you, even when you’ve consistently shown how happy you are with all that he’s done for you.

Or so that’s how you wished to feel, because it wouldn’t take long before you noticed Naoya’s… distance. His prolonged silence that begun just after leaving the aquarium—the now bane of your existence—completely different from when the day began.

You didn’t want to take this mishap and use it as fuel for your insecurities, but with nowhere else to go and no answers to obtain, it just happened. You simply… began to think that maybe, he didn’t like you as much as you hoped. 

Perhaps you’ve come off too strong with him back then; or maybe you’re too weird for his liking, you shouldn’t have gotten too comfortable with him too early in the relationship—

Not that it mattered anyway, because you were absolutely sure he was now considering not being with you anymore.

Evidently, the two were going through quite the emotional turmoil; but it wasn’t until you realized that the time to return home was fast approaching that you decided to take the first step and end all confusions once and for all.

If the day was going to end like that, you might as well know why.

“Na—Naoya… did I do something to upset you?”

Naoya immediately blinks, snapped back to reality and startled by your bold accusation.

“No?? Where is this coming from??”

“I—I don’t know, I guess you… well, I just concluded that since you got all silent out of the sudden… it must’ve been because of me.” you quietly explained. “Because I disappointed you.”

“I hope to never hear that from you ever again.” Naoya frowns, his stern reaction making you further embarrassed, avoiding his gaze subsequently. He sighs.  “Lool, Y/N… I didn’t mean it that way.”

“...Just tell me. What did you not like about me? What is something I did?”

“All you’ve ever done is be perfect, so no.”

“Then what is it?” you ask once more. “Is it the assignment you told me?”

“No, that’s not it. Not at all.” Naoya quickly responds.

“Then tell me, please.” you breathe, getting desperate at the lack of answer—for every denial felt as if the knife of his indifference twisted deeper and deeper into your heart. Inching you closer to the possibility of you being the cause of such distaste, he just didn’t want you to make a scene. “If it’s something I did—”

“Seriously, stop it already, Y/N!” Naoya gasps, immediately cupping your face and forcing you to see him. You try your best to avoid his gaze to befall your teary one, but ultimately you fail at his persistence. “What do I need to say to get through that stubborn little head of yours??”

“…The truth, I guess…” you sniffed, there’s no point holding back the tears forming in your eyes anymore if they were already soaking your cheeks. “...What changed?”

Naoya swallows, already feeling like shit by having made you cry—a sight he will never forget, nor will he allow to occur once again by his own merit—worse when his heart just kept pounding loudly and painfully against his chest, a combination of his uncertainty when approaching the topic, and regret for your reaction.

But even then, he wholeheartedly prefers to deal with his embarrassment, than his guilt for having hurt the woman of his dreams.

The faster he mends this, the quicker you’ll be back to the same bubbly girl he fell in love with. Or so, he hopes.

“The truth is… I’ve been thinking about something. About that.” Naoya begins, voice trembling as he looks at you. 

“I don’t… follow.”  you say.

He swallows once more.

“The reason why I’ve been quiet is because I want to do something with you.” He quickly adds, it’s obvious by the way he speaks that he’s very nervous, fearful that you might judge him afterwards. But only if he knew… “I want… to… kiss you.”

“O—Oh!” you gasp, and suddenly, everything seemed to make sense. “Naoya, is that why—”

“Ye—yeah. And I didn't know how to bring it up without making you uncomfortable.” Naoya explains. “That’s the reason why I kept quiet. I… I never meant to upset you.”

“I… I didn’t know you were—”

“I knew it was a stupid idea, I’m moving too fast, aren’t I? You probably haven’t even considering the idea—forget I said anything—”

“No, Naoya, don’t—don’t say that.” you say, pulling his attention back to you. “Because that’s not true.”

“What do you mean?”

“...I guess I mean to say I… I’ve also considered it. I have also been thinking about it, quite often too…” you confess, embarrassed. “I’d be lying if I said otherwise…” 

“Y/N…  you mean to say you also…”

“Y—yeah, I mean… who doesn’t want to kiss their boyfriend any chance they get?” you ask. “I just didn’t bring it up because… well, I wasn't sure if you wanted to.”

“It’s all I’ve been dreaming of.” He reveals as well, your heart quickens once again. “...Did you hope it would happen today?”

“M—Maybe!” you shriek. “It’s not too soon, is it?”

“No, I don’t think so.” Naoya admits. “I think some might even say we’re running late.”

You frown. “Not that it should matter, it’s our relationship. Our decision—and I… choose to wait if you so desire.”

“I don’t want to wait anymore.” you say. “I… I want to kiss you.”

“Then let’s do it—” “But what if you don’t like it?” it’s your time to worry. “I… haven’t kissed anyone else so I don’t know what to do…”

Naoya blinks. Did he hear that right? But far from being inundated with that peculiar rush most got in a situation like this, he was greatly worried about making this a moment you’ll enjoy.

A moment he won’t ruin by his own inexperience.

“Am I to be your first?”

“I mean, I guess if you count that one time when I was 5…”

“I don’t like the thought of that.” Naoya frowns, jealous. You let out a breathy chuckle.

“It was a silly bet, Naoya. Didn’t mean anything.” But you still made the conscious decision to not tell him who it was—if this is how he got at the mere thought of someone else kissing you, you could only imagine what he’d do upon learning it was actually Satoru all along. “Not when I only want you.”

Naoya swallows, his heart skipping a beat.

“Then… what are we waiting for…?”

After a quick debate, the two end up settling for a small, nearby park to finally do what their heart’s desired, into a somewhat secluded eye where no one else would see them obnoxiously (but sweetly) try to kiss each other for the first time, yet intimate enough to persuade them into actually doing so.

Truth be told, the more you and Naoya realized how close you were to actually doing, the more… anxious you felt. To believe you were simply a few moments away from kissing your boyfriend for the first of many times… This might as well be your first kiss!

Might be Naoya’s too.

“N—now what?” you whisper, unsure how to proceed, fidgeting with his fingers.

“I—I guess we kiss.” He swallows, gently squeezing your hands. “Do I just… lean?”

“Ye—yeah.” You nod, cleaning up all the strands of hair that obstructed your face. “And I guess I’ll just… move to you.”

“Ok.” He nods, taking one last deep breath. “Then… let’s do it.”

…

…

…

“You said you would lean down, Naoya.”

“I can’t if you’re staring at me like that!”

“I’m—I’m not staring!” you cry back. “I’m just—I’m just being attentive!”

“Yes you are, you’re looking straight at me with those big eyes of yours!”

“Where am I supposed to look, then?! How am I supposed to know when to move??”

“Not me?? Close your eyes!”

“But what if you bump into me?!”

You’ve unknowingly awoken a fear within Naoya, as if the worry of your approval wasn’t enough.

“I’m not—I’m not going to bump into you.” He frowns. “Why would you even suggest something so silly… Do you know how weird you look staring right at me?”

You frown.

“…You didn’t have to be rude about it…” Naoya immediately regrets the way he spoke to you.

“No, princess, I didn’t mean to upset you.” He says, cupping your face once more. “That was just my nerves talking.”

“…I’m nervous too.”

“I know, I know. But I still want this, more than anything in the world.” Naoya adds. “So please… trust me. I promised to take care of you, didn’t I?”

You smile softly.

“You did.”

“Then just close your eyes and let me do everything else.”

“O—okay…” you nod, sighing before eventually closing your eyes, trying your best to relax and prepare for the fateful moment that would mark the beginning of this beautiful relationship.

Unaware of Naoya’s intent stares; it was almost ironic how he complained about your gaze when he was doing the very same thing now…

But he wasn’t exaggerating when stating he really wanted this. In fact, he probably wanted this much, much more than you. To finally be connected to someone that would appreciate him for who he was, not for what he represented…

Naoya never imagined a moment like this could ever happen with someone like him, like his family and it’s expectations.

Yet, it’s like he summoned you out of his thoughts and now, here you were, materialized before him and ready to give him all the love he deserved—through the adorable pout you were unwittingly doing, awaiting for his kiss, to the way you stood on your toes, your own way to help him out when he eventually leans down. Were you even aware of how adorable you were to him? If not, it just transformed his perception of you into something even lovelier.

«I won’t keep you waiting any longer» Naoya promises as he readjusted his gentle hold of your face, giving you one last smile before finally beginning to lean down towards you. Taking in your scent, your softness, your warmth…

Closing his eyes when just a few millimeters away from your lips, preparing to take in your affection, and then—

He kisses you.

Carefully and sweetly, his world is suddenly filled with color when his lips finally touch your soft ones, the very sensation he always imagined you’d have—no, this was much, much better than all he could conjure up.

It filled a void he’s been desperately craving to satisfy, the need to feel loved, cared for, needed—you gave him all that with just a simple gesture…

How could he not fall more in love with you? His life had become far more thrilling with you in it, and this was only the evidence of such.

And while it ended as a quick kiss, nothing short of inexperienced, found with some hesitance along the way… none of these things mattered in the bigger picture.

To you and Naoya, this was the official declaration of each other’s love, leaning deeper into each other’s embrace once eventually separated.

“S—so…? How—How was it?” you ask, doing your best to push down your heart from coming out your throat as you glanced up to him. “Was—was it… good?”

“Ye—yeah.” Naoya quietly admits, resting his head alongside yours. “It… tasted like ramen.”

“You—stop it! Be serious!” you fret, already a nervous mess when asking for his opinion, his comment simply made it worse!

But naturally, he was only making a slight jest of the moment, his instinctive reaction to trying to ease his jumping heart from bursting out of his chest, as you’d come to notice when placing your ear next to it—it’s the first time you’ve ever heard such quickness coming from him… enough evidence to know he enjoyed it, much to your delight.

“I like it.” he confesses, you smile, leaning deeper into his chest. “It was… much, much better than I expected.”

“I can hear that.” you giggle, hugging him tightly. “... I liked it very much too.”

“Enough to kiss me again?” he teases once more, you blush.

“I don’t know if my poor heart can take it.” you jest back. “My ears are ringing too.”

“Well, you know what they say—the more you keep doing something, the more comfortable you feel with it.” Naoya implicitly suggests.

“Are you saying…”

He nods. “...but only if you want… please.”

You grin.

After such a lovely date, and with so sweetly that he asked…

You had no other option. Not that you’d have many once Naoya grew confident enough to kiss you over and over again later on, if anything, you’d soon find yourself begging him to give you a second to breathe. It would be a miracle if he even gave you a chance to speak in between kisses!

But oh, who are you kidding? Deep within, you knew you enjoyed it, always looking forward to the moment the love of your life would come rushing to steal all your kisses away, you’d probably won’t have any to share by the end of the year!

And you wouldn’t want it any other way.

“By the way, princess. Why didn’t you want me to pick you up? It was nothing, you know? I could’ve easily gone to your house and done so.”

“Well, because I didn’t want to inconvenience you.” you say, he frowns. “I know, you just said it wouldn’t. But I also felt like taking the public transport, I haven’t used it since we got out on holiday.”

“I don’t feel comfortable with you taking the public transport, it’s… unbefitting for someone like you.”

“The public transport isn’t that bad, first of all.” You say, tightly holding his hand as the two headed towards the nearest station, time to head back home unless you wished to deal with an angry father. “...But if you really want to know… I didn’t ask you to pick me up because I didn’t want your motorcycle ruining my outfit.”

“Ruinning your outfit—really? Is that all?” He chuckles. 

“Hey, don’t judge me! And besides, you should know too! You’re quite cautious too, to put it one day.”

“I wasn't going to pick you up with the motorcycle, I have cars too, you know?”

“...A car?” you blink. “You have a car too??”

“Cars. Plural.” Naoya explains proudly. “I just choose whichever matches with what I’m wearing.”

“Naoya, I knew you had money, but that’s just ridiculous!”

“It’s our money now, actually.” He says. “All that is mine is yours; so technically the cars are yours too.”

“No Naoya, oh my god.” you gasp. “I can’t—I can’t accept that! Just what did I get myself into?!”

“Hmmm, I don’t know, I guess the best time of your life?”

You blush.

“That would be one way to put it, I guess.” You frown, making him laugh and subsequently press a kiss on your cheek, on your lips…

“As long as you’re with me, you’ll always have what you need.” He swears, pressing one last kiss on your knuckles. “Whatever you want, I’ll make sure you have it. And I won’t stop at any limit to achieve so.”

Whether he referred to love, or monetary possessions, both guided you to the same conclusion:

“I know.”

NGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH Nothing was ever the same after that point; 🥺 I just... well, I hoped you liked it!! I wanted this to be as sweet and somewhat awkward as possible lol they're teenagers, after all; but not enough to ruin the experience. I hope I managed to convey that 🥹

Luckily I have another version of their first kiss so if you don't particularly enjoy this, there's always another 😏 but i'll get to that one eventually.

Now, take care, and hope you have a wonderful day!!

[thollandsgirl2013]

𝐐𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐑𝐨𝐨𝐦

Parings → Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings → insecurities, fluff, angst

Summary → Seven minutes in heaven, what could happen?

(gif not mine)

Parties had never been your scene. The loud music, the dim lighting, and the sea of unfamiliar faces always made you feel out of place. But when Betty insisted, practically dragging you along with MJ, you found yourself reluctantly agreeing. Betty and MJ were your best friends, and as much as you didn't enjoy parties, you hated the idea of being left out more.

The moment you stepped into the crowded living room, you stuck close to MJ, your safety net. You shared a knowing look, silently agreeing to stick together for the night. But that plan quickly fell apart when Betty spotted Ned across the room. With a playful wink, she ditched you two in favor of her boyfriend, leaving you and MJ to fend for yourselves.

That’s when the trouble began.

You didn’t know how, but before you knew it, you were dragged into a game of Seven Minutes in Heaven. The circle of players quickly formed: you, MJ, Betty, Ned, Flash, Cindy, Abe, Tiny, Jason, and Peter. The moment you saw Peter, your heart skipped a beat. You had a crush on him for as long as you could remember, but he had liked Liz back in sophomore year. Now that Liz was gone, you didn’t know if he was interested in anyone else. You hoped, silently and fervently, that the bottle would point to him.

It was your turn. You took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves, and spun the bottle. It whirled around, the tension in the room thick as everyone watched. The bottle slowed, and your heart pounded in your chest as it pointed directly at Peter.

Your excitement was short-lived, though. Peter’s face was expressionless, almost cold, as he got up. He didn’t seem excited at all. In fact, he looked like he’d rather be anywhere but here. A lump formed in your throat, but you forced yourself to keep calm. Maybe he was just as nervous as you were.

The two of you were ushered into a small, cramped closet. Flash and Jason slammed the door shut with a loud laugh, locking you both in. The dim light from the overhead bulb cast shadows on the walls, making the small space feel even smaller. Peter stood as far away from you as possible, his hands shoved into his pockets.

You tried to swallow your disappointment, but your insecurities were already creeping in, whispering that he didn't want to be here with you. You cleared your throat, trying to break the awkward silence. “Um, hey.”

“Hi,” he replied, his voice flat.

You shifted uncomfortably, your nerves getting the better of you. “W-we don’t have to do anything. You don’t have to kiss me if you don’t want to. I’m sure you’d rather be in here with someone else. We can just stay where we are.” Your voice trailed off, growing quieter with each word.

Peter’s expression softened slightly, and he finally met your gaze. “It’s nothing to do with you. I’m sorry I seemed rude. I’m just really stressed out lately, and parties aren’t really my thing. I only came because of Ned.”

A small smile tugged at your lips. “Me too. Betty practically dragged me here.”

He chuckled softly, the sound easing some of the tension between you. “Seems like we have something in common.”

For some reason, his words gave you a burst of courage. Maybe it was the small space or the fact that you were alone with him, but you suddenly felt braver. “Hey, Peter, I… um, I wanted to tell you something for a while.” You swallowed hard, nerves bubbling up again. “I-I really like you. And it’s okay if you don’t feel the same. You don’t really know me, so I get it.”

Peter blinked, clearly stunned by your confession. His expression was unreadable, and your heart sank a little. But then, to your surprise, he spoke. “Yeah, I don’t really know you… but maybe I’d like to. Maybe we could go on a date sometime? Get to know each other? And if it goes well… who knows.... maybe we could start dating.”

Peter had never dated anyone or even gone on a date, so he was hopeful. You like him, so maybe it will be good.

“Yes! I-I mean, yeah, sure,” you replied, trying to sound casual despite the excitement bubbling inside you.

A shy smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “Hey, we still have two minutes. Do you want to… maybe… kiss?”

You felt your cheeks heat up, but you nodded. “Yeah.” Your voice was just a whisper.

The kiss was soft, tentative, and a little awkward, but it was sweet in its own way. It was both of your first kisses. Neither of you were experienced, but you both tried, and by the time you leaned in again for a second kiss, it felt a little more natural, a little more right.

Suddenly, the door was yanked open, and Flash’s voice rang out. “Yo, Parker’s kissing Y/n!” He sounded half-amazed, half-amused. Ned cheered loudly, and you pulled away from Peter, your face burning with embarrassment. Peter glared at Flash, clearly annoyed.

MJ gave you a thumbs up from across the room, her smirk evident even in the dim light.

“Shut up, Flash. Leave us alone,” Peter snapped, grabbing your hand and pulling you out of the closet. Without another word, he led you upstairs, away from the chaos of the party.

Peter guided you to a quiet room at the far end of the hall, away from the noise and the teasing. He closed the door behind you and turned to face you, a soft smile on his lips. “Sorry about Flash. He’s an idiot.”

You giggled, still a little flustered from the kiss. “It’s okay. I’m just glad we got out of there.”

He hesitated for a moment, then took a step closer to you, his eyes meeting yours. "So, about that date… h-how about tomorrow? Maybe we can go to the movies or grab some coffee?" His voice was hopeful, a bit nervous.

You smiled, your own nerves finally settling. “I’d like that.”

Peter’s smile grew, and for the first time that night, he seemed genuinely happy. “Me too.”

As the two of you stood there, you felt something shift. The awkwardness of the game downstairs was replaced with something new—something exciting. You leaned up, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin against your lips.

Peter caught your gaze, and for a moment, it felt like the world outside that small room didn't exist. He leaned down slowly, capturing your lips in another kiss, this one more sure, more confident. It was sweet and gentle.

When you finally pulled back, both of you were smiling, a little breathless but incredibly happy. "We should probably get back downstairs before they start making stuff up," you said, though you made no move to leave.

"Yeah," Peter replied, his voice soft, "let's go."

As you left the party that night, walking side by side with Peter, you couldn’t help but feel like maybe, just maybe, this could be the start of something wonderful.

‎∗ ࣪ ˖༺ 𓆩☆𓆪 ༻˖ ࣪ ∗

[pharawee]

Now that I've started reading Art Adore En (Hin & Phayu's novel) and Chains of Heart, I understand even less why they decided to include every single couple from the author's book universe. Yes, they're all friends, but honestly apart from maybe Boon the story would have worked just as well without including at least 33452 dudes in suits.

Unless they're supposed to be an easter egg for fans of the novels? Or maybe the production company plans on expanding the universe? Which is hilarious because there's already two different series planned from different companies with different actors but the same characters (it's confusing for me, too).

So in order not to lose my mind, I tried to figure out who is who in the show. Which is torture. You guys, I am faceblind. I know who they are by name but I can't tell them apart when they're standing next to each other.

Anyway, here goes...

This is Boon. He's a police inspector and I think he used to be Hin's senior (and code brother?) at university. He has two people working under him and they're also part of their uni friend group. One of them is Ae (who's a different Ae from the Ae who's Chief Ingpha's sister).

And I think these are Pleng, Phrai, Mangpor and Safe. Don't ask me who is who. Three of them are the same height. Please send help.

Pleng And Phrai (the show has him as Plary but uhmmmm that's not what the messages say) are the main characters in Love Puzzle. Pleng is Hin's best friend and Phrai is his boyfriend.

Mangpor means scorpion (I know because the auto-translate translated every name and let me tell you it was really confusing reading about scorpions and rocks and storms and sand and soil... and opium). Could be he's also a police officer because he's always mentioned alongside Boon and Ae in the novel.

Then there's Safe. He's the first friend Hin made at university. He's Mangpor's boyfriend because EVERYONE here has a boyfriend.

Here's where it gets weird.

All of TJ Tommys' novels are connected but most of them are different genres. Chains of Heart is a crime thriller, Art Adore En and Love Puzzle are university-themed, and these guys have a supernatural/reincarnation storyline:

Guy (left) is a doctor and Nott (right) is... idk but he can apparently predict the future. They also remember their past lives, and they're boyfriends (naturally).

When Ken was found two years ago, Hin asked Nott about what he saw in Ken's future and Nott cryptically answered that he didn't see Ken with Din. He saw Ken with someone familiar who he couldn't reach and someone unfamiliar who seemed strangely close.

...

Just be glad that Waranyu and Palang haven't shown up yet (or maybe they have. We'd never know. There's a seemingly endless amount of boyfriends in this show), because Waranyu is some kind of soul guide and can communicate with ghosts. Which he does (in an extra chapter of Chains of Heart).

That leaves Yuji. Yuji might be with Ae because he's the only other person not paired up with anyone (??). I don't have a screencap of Yuji because I'm not even sure he's in the show. He's the same age as Phayu and Ken and he definitely pops up in the novel but I haven't even so much as heard his name in the series.

Aand that's it. The gang's all here (I think. I hope).

Now someone tell them that "worrying for your friend" doesn't mean "secretly watch his every move" but something more like "hey maybe you shouldn't wallpaper your hotel room with your deceased boyfriend's face".

[iridescentoracle]

i am so obsessed with how like. taken as read the ot3 are at this point. like on the one hand it feels like they've been building up to this for ages but on the other hand it kind of feels like i blinked and we skipped right past some Major Turning Point where everything got spelled out and we're just already in firmly Established Relationship-land. obviously tarvek is too well-protected for anyone to assassinate openly, look how angry his boyfriend and girlfriend are at the idea of anyone threatening him. at this point i'm half-convinced agatha's just going to refer to her boyfriends in passing to someone else and no one's even going to comment on it until van finds out twenty pages later and immediately starts making everyone pay up

[edwinisms]

see I need ghost clothes to have properties more or less like regular clothes because wearing someone else’s jacket or shirt is one of the most important expressions of affection in existence and yes basically what I’m saying is i wanna see charles give edwin his jacket for one reason or another and see edwin get all flustered and giddy about it

[strawberrycamel]

ninjago seabound hurts. so much. what the fuck

[ophthalmotropy]

Frankly, coming out is such an outdated concept to me that I've never considered doing it. My mother knew I liked girls because she asked once, and with family members who would take it well I just take it as an assumed fact and see if they bother to catch on. I could never fathom sitting someone down to tell them. It's nobody's business, not even my own lmao.

[chainsawctopus]

What do u think of yoshiden

Oh boy. If you're here on my account then you probably already know who I am and how absolutely insane I am for them, but I'm gonna ramble anyway LOL thanks for giving me the opportunity to show people on Tumblr how insane I am ‼✌😁 If people who don't know me from twitter find this, hi I'm TK! I may be a little deranged for Yoshiden, just a tiny bit y'know- Yoshiden means a lot to me for various reasons but I'll just put down all my insane ramblings down belowwww [CSM Spoilers if anime onlys/new readers find this post somehow] [Serious Section] -Denji's distrust/disliking for men/straight up internalized homophobia is most likely because of his past abusers being male (the mafia and his father), so if he starts to trust Yoshida throughout the course of part 2 and they end up forming an actual bond, whether it's romantic or platonic, it kind of helps Denji get over his distrust and help him cope with that trauma knowing that hey not all dudes are that bad actually, this guy's pretty nice. (You could say that Beam already did that and they had a good bond too but Beam is... y'know... *finger across neck* bleh... and Denji still emphasizes he wouldn't let a dude sit on him in 104 so...)

-Surprise surprise, I'm in on the bi Denji agenda because I'm bisexual and all my favs have to be bi 😁😁/hj But seriously, bi Denji is a pretty good concept cause aside from getting rid of his internalized homophobia, it also helps him get over/cope with his trauma as I said above. Part 1 was all about Denji learning about different kinds of love (familial love from the Hayakawa family, romantic love from Reze, and the mess that is sexual->maternal->abusive love from Makima, etc etc), so exploring his sexuality in part 2 could be a nice little addition to that. (Bonus points for the new kind of familial love he has for Nayuta now that he's her older brother/father figure; bonus BONUS points if Yoshida's the other dad LOL) [Delusional Absolutely Normal Section] -Yoshida's canonically a pretty boy as stated by another guy, so maybe if Denji stares at him long enough he'll realize guys can be as pretty as girls too and think it's fine to find guys attractive LMAO

-We all agree Yoshida's gay or at least mspec mlm leaning/preference right? Right. -Anyway, I'M A TOTAL SUCKER FOR ONE-SIDED LOVE STORIES LOL I'd like to think Yoshida has coworkers who could've taken the job of watching over Denji but he deliberately asked to do the job because he found him cute back in part 1, though realistically he probably only got chosen for the job cause he knew about Denji's identity already and he's also in high school, but we're not here for realism, we're here for gay people. (Gay people being Hirofumi Yoshida.) (Did you see him at the table with Angel while Denji and Power were talking about barf and stuff? Dude was smiling while listening to them talk about random shit, he probably became interested in Denji then and there; hell, even the goddamn onigiri scene where Denji still eats it after it fell to the ground probably made him go 'woah this guy is sick in the head I'm in love') Back to the one sided thing, the idea of Yoshida being willing to die while protecting Denji is???? insane??? and I love it because it really shows how devoted he is not only to his job but to Denji in general. He's never truly lost his temper at Denji, even when he used his bare hands on the cake, even when he let himself get sat on by girls, and even how he only wants to reveal himself as Chainsaw Man just to get a girlfriend. Sure, he called him hopeless in the recent chapter, but he never raised his voice or fought back. He's always trying to be patient with him even when he's being completely ridiculous. Copypasting what I've said on twitter here: If someone started scooping and eating the cake I bought with their bare hands, I wouldn't just sit there and go "Aaaaaah!", I'd definitely get pissed. Yoshida has FEELINGS for this boy, I swear. He said NOTHING about it. NOTHING. No "Why the hell'd you do that?" or "Dude that's gross" OR ANYTHING, he immediately just goes back to talking about trying to prevent Denji from revealing his identity. If someone I liked, however, would eat cake with their bare hands, I'd just be embarrassed but also find it cute so I'd let it slide. (Tested and proven 👍)

If, miraculously, Yoshida canonically confesses to Denji, he'd probably still pine for him even if Denji turns him down, which he probably will. Yoshida realizes, after being his bodyguard for a while, that he really enjoys Denji and being around him; he'd get too attached to those feelings and still shower him with appreciation even if he knows it'll never be reciprocated. Just knowing that Denji's being given the love he deserves is enough for him, even if Denji doesn't want or care about that love. It's kinda selfish of Yoshida, but he doesn't care, all he cares about is that he likes Denji and he's willing to keep that up until he dies. -Anywayyyyy, even though they're both good in battle they're both absolute fucking losers LOL Yoshida getting thrown out the window is and will always be my favorite scene from him. Denji got called a loser by Asa, so maybe if Denji just turned his head 90 degrees after that rejection, he would've seen another loser and they could've been the most pathetic loser4loser couple in existence, it's great, c'mon Denji just accept you can like men already

-I kinda maybe kin Yoshida soooo- 💀 I mostly started kinning him for his appearance and how he's visibly deranged in part 1 LOL, but seeing his attitude towards Denji in part 2 really made me like wow he just like me fr‼ I'm sick in the head for this cute guy who is also kinda sick in the head‼ So yeah that really added to my appreciation for yoshiden LMAOSKJSDKF Ok that's all it's almost 6am and my brain is empty, maybe I'll add to this later, hopefully that answers your question anon 😁👍‼‼‼💥💥💥 I dunno if you expected an essay but BOOM, I hope I get a good score LOL

[lock-my-feelings-in-a-jar]

i can't remember what it's like to just casually listen to music from lots of different bands/artists all the time without getting severely attached to just one and wanting to only listen to them for a large amount of time

[forcebookish]

one of the things that has me nonstop thinking about topmew is that they're actually a very unique type of couple in fiction but not in real life. in most fiction, people are always falling in love by accident. they meet, circumstances put them together, they're caught by surprise when they fall in love. but though both top and mew had never been in love before and didn't totally know what to expect, it wasn't a complete shock. they met through a mutual friend, they found each other attractive and interesting, so they decided to date. they fell in love because they went on dates and did romantic things together on purpose. i think neither of them expected to fall so hard, but still, the point of dating is to see if you're compatible and fall in love and maybe build a life together. and that's what they did.

i don't think that makes them boring, i think that makes them relatable! i think that makes them stand out from other fictional couples! you know, people claimed they wanted more realistic BLs, but for some reason when topmew came along, a ship based on a real life gay couple, they didn't like them?

[warlordfelwinter]

i had like a really normal day where i opened tumblr after work to check my notifs and found that my favorite dnd podcast had followed me (hi @diceshamepodcast)

i'm not sure i've ever actually drawn podcast fanart before but here's a real quick and dirty attempt at a Jack because i felt like i had to do something. i dearly love all the characters in this show but i have a real soft spot for wizards. and archaeologists. and golden retrievers wearing boots.

anyway everyone go listen to dice shame