#like no time is dedicated to it but i....love them

[avelera]

I am literally so baffled by how so many people think the Viktor/Jayce separation in Arcane S2 was:

1. Rushed

2. Deserved, because Jayce ignored Viktor’s wishes and that’s what Viktor was reacting to

3. A choice Viktor was making, literally at all

Let’s go through these one at a time but they’re all related.

1. Yes it’s rushed. That’s because of time constraints per episode, sure, but forget that for a second. Viktor getting out of his goo cocoon and immediately leaving while still STARK NAKED is weird. It’s very weird. It’s meant to be a five alarm fire, red klaxons blaring, levels of really fucking WEIRD. The guy is LITERALLY NAKED he just walks out, barefoot, into the Undercity.

It’s weird and it’s meant to seem weird and indeed, inhuman, because that is not Viktor. Those are not Viktor’s choices. That is not who Viktor is. And the fact it is so rushed is part of the warnings, and meant to show us just how much something is very very wrong.

2. Tying into Point 1, if this was a real disagreement between Jayce and Viktor as we knew them through S1, Viktor would have stopped to get some damn trousers and shoes. I know it sounds like I’m joking but legitimately, there is no (or very little) conscious human thought going through Viktor’s head in that scene because a human being choosing to leave their partner of years over legitimate disagreements would have stopped to get fucking dressed before they left. That is not Viktor.

And to briefly launch into a defense of Jayce, he has spent literal years with Viktor doing science to address Viktor’s failing health. He knew about Viktor’s fear of dying. They’d both dedicated themselves to hextech in the hopes it would better people’s lives but the more selfish goal at the heart of that research for both of them was that it would save Viktor’s life.

Viktor only told Jayce one (1) time to destroy the hexcore and he didn’t explain why at all. Jayce didn’t know about the self experimentation. He didn’t know about Skye’s death because Viktor never told him.

Jayce spent years working on a cure for Viktor and in a moment of blind panic used their research to save his loved one’s life based on what 99% of his interactions with Viktor with one (1) outlier would have told him that this is what Viktor would have wanted, which was to live, and using their research to make sure he lives has always not only been on the table, it’s literally been the main focus of their overarching research goals minus one weird and unexplained thing Viktor said once while a zillion other things were going on in Jayce’s life.

Jayce using their research to save Viktor wasn’t a conscious defiance of Viktor’s wishes, it’s literally what 99.99% of Viktor’s wishes that Jayce knew about would have pointed towards. He was as far as he knew enacting Viktor’s wishes, the wishes Viktor had for years upon years. Without knowing about Sky, Viktor’s one request to destroy the hexcore was a weird and out of character request that had no explanation. It didn’t hold up when compared to everything else Jayce has ever known and experienced with Viktor.

3. Whew, anyway, the bigger point is that Viktor is a Hexcore puppet at this point so it doesn’t even matter if he had legitimate grievance against Jayce. He’s not leaving because of grievances, legitimate or otherwise. Viktor would never leave Jayce like that (or while STARK NAKED).

Literally in one of the last scenes we got that gave us a glimpse of Viktor’s inner life and motivations, he told Singed that Jayce would understand and stay by his side no matter his choices or transformations.

Singed is skeptical. But Viktor WAS RIGHT. Jayce didn’t even blink, didn’t hesitate at all to hug him after he was transformed so drastically. But my point is: real Viktor was actively worried about losing Jayce. Real Viktor would not take off like that.

And in one last defense of Jayce, I think the reason he just lets Viktor go there is that he has always respected Viktor’s autonomy.

Jayce notes in S1 that Viktor would often disappear without warning. He never tried to control Viktor’s movements. That’s what makes Jayce yelling at him for going to the Undercity so shocking to both of them in S1.

Jayce is also traumatized and shell shocked himself when Viktor leaves. He’s not prepared and he doesn’t argue. He doesn’t do what he probably should which is prevent Viktor from leaving (literally naked and barefoot!) because it doesn’t occur to him to control Viktor’s movements but also because he’s in shock.

But he really should because again, that’s not Viktor. That’s not Viktor making a conscious choice, that is another power and impulse puppeting what is left of Viktor, using his tenuous connections to his identity like his guilt over Sky and his/his + Sky’s overarching desire to help people in the Undercity.

It has nothing to do with Jayce. Jayce’s choices are not why Viktor is leaving. And the real Viktor would never leave Jayce under such abrupt and INHUMAN circumstances.

We are meant to be as alarmed and confused as Jayce was. It is a part of a pile of evidence that something is very wrong with Viktor and indeed, the Viktor we knew is not the one in charge of his actions right now. How much of him is even left in there is what remains to be seen, and if who he was can ever come back.

[demaparbat-hp]

Hiya!! 👋🏼😄 How's it going? Your fashion taste for Zuko in a Modern AU seems to be artsy, or maybe "formal" is the word. That shirt he wore when he gave Sokka romantic song advice looked Versace🧐. Anyway, I was wondering how you came up with it, he always struck me more as the type that didn´t care much about fashion, so I'm curious about other´s opinions and heacanons about it. And do you have any other fashion headcanons for the rest of the GAang? Also, their music tastes. How did you come up with them? Especially Katara's! 😍

Hello! As it happens, I have a lot of Thoughts and Feelings™ about this, so I'm leaving these over here, and the rest of my ramblings down below the cut!

Let us begin with the Gaang, shall we?

SUKI always struck me as that Pretty Girl from the Gym. She is so incredibly fit it isn't even funny. She could kick anyone's ass, and we'd all thank her. She has this casual gym style that somehow always looks glorious on her, as it should! Comfy yet fashionable clothes for a nice workout or a day in town.

Her music tastes are basically any and all power songs from the eighties and nineties. (Eye of the Tiger, anyone?) She also enjoys metal via Toph, and bands like BSB, NSYNC, or Boyz II Men with Katara. My girl has a very eclectic Playlist and we all love her for it.

SOKKA is That Guy™. Loose T-shirts and shorts everywhere he goes, no matter the weather. He's stupidly into fashion but it doesn't show! At all! And everyone teases him about it. His closet is about 90% Cactus Juice merchandise, hence the "it's the quenchiest!" shirt.

His fashion and music tastes are pretty much the same. He loves poetry but isn't really into lyrics. He'll misinterpret just about anything you place in front of him. His Playlist is mostly vibes and tiktok songs he kind of enjoys. He isn't really into music...at least not as much as his sister.

AANG owns exactly one hoodie, one pair of shorts, and one beanie (THE beanie). Oh, and the crocs—don't forget the crocs. Somehow, he's always wearing the exact same outfit. Every. Single. Day. Ancient Gaang lore suggests that the day Aang goes out without his beanie, it's the end of the world.

His Playlist is the poppiest, most bizarre thing ever. Every single song is Happy by Pharrell Williams levels of happy. Yet sometimes, among the bouncy dance-to songs, you'll find the strangest of things... (He does know what Good Day by Twenty One Pilots is about. That's the reason he likes it so much, actually. And it's so weird.)

KATARA is all about sundresses and loose pants. The epitome of comfortable loveliness. Light fabrics in blue shades, careful embroidery, delicate shoes, and little to no accessories—hers is a simple, yet quite adorable, style. She just needs to add more colors to her usual palette...

She is, first and foremost, a Florence + The Machine girl. It's the Dark Goddess of the Sea vibes, to be honest. Florence Welch is her idol and yes, she will fight you about lyrics interpretation, and win. It may not seem like it, but her music tastes are also very varied.

She draws a little from each member of the Gaang, so you'll hear her humming along to Gorillaz (where did you even find out about them, Aang?), The Weeknd (I...don't think this song means what you think it means, Sokka...), and Hozier (Zuko why did you dedicate Talk to me, Zuko WHAT DID YOU MEAN BY THAT).

TOPH...ah, lovely girl. I'll summarise everything about Toph’s fashion sense in two words: comfort and rebellion. Stuffy dresses forced on her by billionaire parents? No thank you! Give her tank tops with loose shirts and short pants. Bandaids shared with Aang, bracelets from Katara, and even piercings she got in tandem with Sokka. Shoes? What even is that?

Something I love about this fandom is our collective agreement that Toph is into the dirtiest, heaviest, most ear-splitting and soul-crushing death metal of all times. Her Playlist is full of the most obscure names to ever exist, and she can and will blast through your walls with the sheer volume of her speaker.

Zuko. ZUKO.

Even in a modern AU my boy must suffer. That being said, I envision Tales from the Couch as—well, exactly what it is: an ATLA modern AU. While there is not a war to fight, and a lot of plot lines are discarded or expanded upon, much about the core story remains the same.

This is my way of saying that Zuko still goes trough his redemption arc, and it reflects on his fashion choices.

The way you described it works perfectly because of one single reason: in this AU, Zuko is an artist. He had to suppress his love for writing and drawing because of his background and the expectations Ozai had for him (taking over the family company), and a very large part of his redemption arc directly affects his relationship with art.

In the Couch equivalent of S1, Zuko has fallen out of Ozai's graces, and is desperate to protect his place in the company and the Kasai household. He's pretending to be someone he isn't and trying to live up to his Father's image of a perfect heir while still being somewhat cut-off financially, and it shows.

He's all about imposing long coats and a semi-formal style, imitating what he knows Azula and Father would respect. He's striking and sharp and dark. But no matter how he dresses or carries himself (that air of cold superiority and arrogance)—it won't help him when he needs it the most.

In S2, Zuko has hit his lowest point. He's officially disinherited and tossed away by his father, and would be out in the streets if it wasn't for Uncle Iroh. He goes from sharp, high-tailored outfits to old second-hand clothes that hang loosely on his frame. He starts smoking and cuts his hair off, forgoing the undercut for the first time in years.

But then...Father accepts him back. When Zuko returns home, it's with respect to his name and a very high position in his father's company. He's finally the perfect Kasai heir, dressed in overly expensive suits and finery, even at home... But Father forbids him from wearing Lu Ten's earring, and Zuko can no longer recognize himself without the familiar glint of gold dancing on his peripheral vision.

When Zuko leaves the Kasai name behind him and goes back to living with Uncle Iroh...he's finally at peace with who he is, and what he wants in this life. The sharp edges aren't gone (they'll always be a part of him, after all), but now they're dulled by looser clothes and softer hairstyles.

He's an artist, and for once in his life, he is determined to pursue his own ambitions. Zuko's outfits may not be designer-made anymore, but he takes what he has and makes himself look like he wants to look, like the person he wants to be.

He doesn't read fashion magazines or keeps up to the latest trends like Azula does. He's just...Zuko. And his newfound confidence makes everything he wears look like it belongs on him.

As for music...well, Ursa raised a literature boy.

He loves lyric-heavy music and natural voices, be they soothing or powerful. Dissecting song meanings and possible interpretations with Katara is one of his favorite parts of the day. They're both very passionate and strong-minded individuals, so it stands to reason that their debates can get quite...heated.

Zuko's Playlist is both incredibly eclectic and somehow very...him. There's a common thread that binds together every song and artist he likes, and he's hilariously unaware of this. To take a look into his Playlist is a higher honor reserved only for those closest to him.

In the wide spectrum of things, it is no wonder that Zuko is, first and foremost, a Hozier man. But though Andrew is his God in all aspects of this life, there's someone else that has had a huge impact on him...

Two someones, actually.

Zuko refuses to tell anyone how he got into Twenty One Pilots, but it's kind of a moot point when the beginning of his obsession is nothing compared to everything that came after. They have just about the right amount of everything that makes Zuko...well, Zuko. The poetic lyrics, the soothing or raging music, the heavy, intensely resonant themes...

Up there, in the second artwork, I placed an album cover behind each period of Zuko's life. The election of these records is intentional, as I feel like their general themes work incredibly well with Zuko's arc and growth.

Blurryface in S1. For the demons within us. For giving a name to our fears and shame.

Trench in S2. For escaping the confined walls of a depression city, and fighting to understand the depths of the map of your mind.

Scaled and Icy in the first half of S3. For returning to places you had left behind. For convincing yourself and everyone around you that you're fine, that you're perfect, even though everything is crumbling inside...

Clancy in S3. For recognizing that you can backslide, that you can have fears and shame and pain—but you're shaping yourself with each step you take. For knowing that seeking help from others is okay. Nobody learns to walk on their own.

(And, in the end, you'll always be better than the person you were yesterday. If only because you're still here. You're still alive. You're still yourself.)

.

Overall, I rambled a bit too much, don't you think?

If you made it all the way down here—thank you so much for reaching out and being interested in this crazy AU! I hope you enjoy these ideas and tell me some of your own ❤️

[harunayuuka2060]

Riddle: I would like to apologize for invading your privacy; no excuse can undo what I've done.

MC: ...

MC: I don't understand-

Riddle: You left your journal in the classroom, and I intended to return it immediately, but my curiosity got the best of me,

Riddle: and I read a few pages... *gets embarrassed*

MC: ...

MC: *chuckles* It's alright, Riddle. I'm not offended at all.

Riddle: A-Are you sure?

MC: *nods*

MC: But I would like to know, did you answer any of the questions on the pages you read?

Riddle: ...

Riddle: Yes.

800 Rules of the Queen of Hearts - Completed

Insights:

The rules may seem random, yet they create a strong sense of discipline. It’s no wonder Riddle is so dedicated to following them and upholding order.

Though memorizing all of them would be impossible, I’d love to learn them deeply. That way, if I ever return to my world, I’ll carry a piece of Heartslabyul with me and never forget its essence.

I wonder… which rule should I embrace for myself?

Riddle: It's rule #432 - Always make time for a kind word, for kindness is the true measure of strength.

[hwaightme]

03:10 AM

(masterlist)

🌃pairing: bf!seonghwa x gn!reader 🌃genre: timestamp, comfort, healing, fluff 🌃summary: 3am, a time for overthinking. is love louder than your thoughts? 🌃wordcount: 1k 🌃warnings/tags: unedited, introspection, lack of confidence, two people in love, kissing, cute sleepy seonghwa, writer is rusty 🌃taglist: at the bottom. would love to add you if interested <3 🌃a/n: oh how i wish to write again, to pour words onto pages and let my heart bleed into the ink. this timestamp is mildly inspired by maro's 'we've been loving in silence'. sorry for rustiness, and any love is so appreciated...

Everyone is deserving of love. Love in all its shapes and colours. A love that looks like a tender conversation in a tiny kitchen, a love that looks like unstoppable laughter under the starry night sky, a love that looks like unwavering dedication and adoration even when it seems impossible. Every person is worthy of a love that makes their heart feel full while being fully aware of the world and all its complexities, shadows and anguish. A love that gives one hope.

Sometimes, this complicated feeling looks like speeding down the city streets as a salvation in the time of trouble. It could even look like a distraught, disjointed embrace accompanied by a cacophony of sobs and stuttered breaths. Love can look like feeling another’s pain, living through it as if it is one’s own. Love can mean heartbreak, over and over again until there is seemingly nothing left, and yet still the ground up powder of affection would be offered as a sacrifice to this mystery.

What is love to you?

You wonder, particularly on nights like this, when a blanket of calm covers the metropolis in which you found yourself, not too dissimilar to a shell being washed up on the shore to encounter a glorious, blazing sun. A twinkling magic on the other side of the glass greets you, and you rest a finger on the coolness, tracing distant shapes of building after building, only to haphazardly wipe it down with the edge of your sleeve. How did you end up in a place where you thought you would never be, feeling what you had sworn you would be unable to feel? 

A gentle melancholy aches in your chest, etching the curves and edges of your ribcage, an incessant little bird, bubbling up that old sense of unease. What is this that you are living in? If you do not know, will it go away? The loud mind, an old friend and enemy, one which had accompanied you through all stages of your life, to find itself equally as bewildered as your heart, but a lot more terrified. Caught between bliss and a painful awareness of the unknown, you walk a tightrope blindfolded.

At least until a hand reaches out for you, warm, reassuring, and guides you across to an oasis. A beating heart, a familiar breath, palm pressed against your upper arm take you out of your spiralling musings, and beckon you to look in the direction of a soft, barely audible whisper of ‘my love’. 

You turn to meet Seonghwa’s eyes, endless pools of glistening brown sugar, enough to both extinguish and ignite, turn dark to light and wrong to right. A timeless poetry is in his face, the rhythm of his features casting a spell over you as you glance over them. These sleepy eyes, stunning nose and cheeks that bear a pinkish hue, plush lips caught in a miniscule pout, dishevelled hair that you know your boyfriend tried to tame, to no avail. You turn your body to meet him fully, and fall into his arms. They envelop you tightly, and you inhale the ghostly remnants of his cologne, a tantalising note of his, and your favourite shampoo, all intricately blended with fabric softener and cotton - put simply, you are home.

“Why aren’t you sleeping, hm?” he asks, voice still a little raspy. It must have been only minutes since he woke up to find you.

“I’m sorry… Did I wake you?”

“Mm… no. Your absence woke me up,” you could cry, not that you would say it, or rather have to say it. Seonghwa knows how his words affect you anyways, judging by the swift squeeze of his arms before he returns to slowly rocking side to side. 

“I just had a lot of thoughts. Wanted to get rid of them somehow.”

“Want to talk about them?” 

You are not sure if you would be able to summon enough courage to talk about what is plaguing you, at least now, in the semi-darkness of yours and his apartment, you feel far too fragile to look inside of the boxes you keep shuffling. Unbeknownst to yourself, you begin to bite your lower lip, trying to pick the right words. Any attempt to formulate whatever excuse you have been seeking inevitably fails as Seonghwa’s lips find yours, erasing your habit, erasing your worry. Caught off-guard, a quiet gasp escapes you, only to be rewarded by an airy chuckle.

“So… not talking, then?” you press your face into the crook of his neck, sensing heat rising on your cheeks. 

“You surprised me, is all…” you trail off, slowly guiding yourself upwards, but still being unable to meet Seonghwa’s gaze.

“I’ll happily kiss all your worries away, if that’s what it takes,” his tone is humorous, and the phrase is light-hearted. His glances into your eyes, at your lips, at the strands of hair that you know he will adjust for you like he usually does, holding promise and commitment. If you so wish, he will. If you so want, he will. If you so will, he most definitely will. 

Your hands grip onto his sleeping shirt as you mumble a thanks, inching closer until your timid smile melts into his. A pleasantly languid rhythm, a moonlit paradise, drawing a masterpiece with your bodies until you are struggling to breathe. An adorable exchange of sweet nothings as you fill your lungs with air, no distinction of space nor time while you are in this trouble-less duet. A small peck on Seonghwa’s lips prompts him to pull you in again, eyes fluttering shut as he floats, flies, soars in love with you. You swear you can see the stars while the taste of his cherry lip balm lingers.

As you follow him back to bed, sinking into the sheets with a sigh, inklings of somnolence settle over your slow-moving intertwined bodies. His breath turns steady, a comforting rise and fall against your back. Seonghwa’s hand is over yours, thumb making random patterns on your skin.

“Dream of me,” he says against your shoulder, grinning when he hears your sharp exhale.

This, this is love to you.

🌃taglist: @shakalakaboomboo @charreddonuts @miriamxsworld @innsomniacshinestar @preciouswoozi @wooyoungjpg @wowie-hockey @hongjoongs-patience @jaehunnyy @maddkitt @ren-junwrld @marsstarxhwa @yeonjunnie @asjkdk @northerngalxy @my-loves-my-life @http-gyu

enjoyed? i would love to hear from you, it means the universe to me. thank you.

[marysfics]

Soft Touches - Revised Version

After the poll, I'll start uploading some of my old fics from my previous account, @hiitsm . This is one of them, with a few small updates added along the way.

Soft Smut, Alexia Putellas x Reader

You lay half atop your girlfriend’s body, her back pressed against the bed, looking so beautifully serene. Your clothes were abandoned on the cold floor of her bedroom. With gentle fingers, you traced patterns over her soft skin, lingering on the curves of her full breasts. You loved the way her body felt under your touch, and you let your fingers explore leisurely.

Both of you are recovering from the first round of lovemaking, especially her, as you had dedicated yourself to showing her how much you love her. You both know a second round is inevitable, but for now, you're content to take it slow, savoring each moment. You love the intimacy of moving slowly, of taking your time to enjoy each other fully.

You place lazy kisses on her soft, full breasts, eliciting a gentle sigh from Alexia. You glance up at her face and see an expression of pure serenity, her features free from any worry. You cherish this version of your girlfriend. While you love every aspect of her, this tranquil state is undoubtedly one of your favorites.

As you continue to kiss her tenderly, one of her hands weaves through your hair, her fingers gently scratching your scalp.

“Did you like it?” you ask, referring to the moments just before when you made love to her. Despite the love and reassurance Alexia provides, you sometimes still feel a little insecure. A past relationship had shattered your confidence, leaving deep scars. Alexia has been incredibly patient, helping you rebuild your self-esteem bit by bit.

''Te quiero, eres tan perfecto para mí,” she whispers quietly, another content sigh escaping her lips. You look up at her with a soft smile, leaning in to kiss her tenderly.

Yet, the lingering insecurity occasionally resurfaces. You want everything to be perfect for her because you believe she deserves nothing less. Her constant reassurance and unwavering support make you feel deeply grateful for her patience.

Alexia's eyes soften as she looks at you. "Sí, every moment with you is perfect para mi," she murmurs, her hand gently caressing your cheek. "You make me so happy." Her words and the sincerity in her gaze calm your anxieties, making you feel cherished and understood.

Your fingers trace the lines of her abs, admiring the definition earned from years of training. You love her abs, marveling at their perfection. A fleeting thought crosses your mind, wondering why you don’t have abs like hers. Your body is beautiful, but it’s not as toned as your girlfriend’s.

“I don’t have abs,” you say quietly, the insecurity slipping into your voice. Your right and setteling on your stomach. “Do you mind?” you whisper, feeling a pang of self-doubt. You mentally scold yourself, knowing you shouldn't feel insecure with Alexia. She loves you exactly as you are.

“You don’t need abs, bebita. I love your belly just the way it is,” she reassures you, her voice filled with genuine affection. She moves, gently shifting so that you're now on your back, and she’s hovering above you. Alexia places her large hand on top of yours, emphasizing her words with a loving touch.

You always loved it when she did this, her hand on your stomach, a gesture of comfort and acceptance. Her warmth and reassurance make you feel cherished, melting away any lingering doubts. Alexia's eyes meet yours, and she smiles softly. “Eres perfecta para mi,” she whispers, leaning in to kiss you tenderly, sealing her words with the sincerity of her love.

Her hand remains gently on your stomach as she leans in, her lips meeting yours in a tender kiss that swiftly deepens. The heat between you builds, Alexia’s touch grows more intense. Her fingers softly pressing into your skin, sending a shiver of goosebumps across your body.

The sensation kindles a warmth within you, stirring desires anew. Yet, this time feels different, you are fully present, lost in the moment with her, allowing yourself to savor every touch, every breath, completely immersed in the connection you share.

Her words are a soft murmur, a breathy declaration that fills the space between your nearly touching lips. "I love you, every single part of you, your beautiful body. I will cherish you for as long as I can," she whispers, her eyes reflecting the profound love you share. You respond by pulling her closer for another kiss, deep and impassioned.

Alexia's hands roam freely, her touch gentle yet filled with intent. She caresses your breasts, her soft massaging sending waves of pleasure through you, eliciting a moan that blends seamlessly into the kiss. Breaking away slightly, she promises, "I'll make sure you feel how much I adore you and your body." She seals her vow with a tender peck on your lips before trailing kisses down your neck to your breasts. There, she playfully nips, leaving faint marks as tender souvenirs of affection.

Her journey continues with kisses scattered across your stomach, each one a soft testament to her adoration. Arriving at your core, she pauses to shower affection on the insides of your thighs, paying special attention to the right one, marked by a scar—a silent acknowledgment of your shared histories and vulnerabilities. Each kiss is a celebration, a recognition of all that you are, and a reaffirmation of her unwavering love.

Alexia's attentions return to your core, her touch deliberate and tender as she begins with soft, slow licks, mindful of your sensitivity. She gradually introduces her finger, gauging your response as you moan softly, your back arching in pleasure. "I love how responsive you are, mi vida," she murmurs, her voice low and filled with affection.

She gently circles your clit with her tongue while moving her finger inside you at a soft, steady pace. Small puffs of air and gentle moans escape your lips, and Alexia smiles through her tender licks. You're incredibly sensitive, more so than ever before. If you let it, you could come from just the touch of Alexia's tongue, but you hold back, not wanting this moment to end too quickly. You know Alexia has so much more in store for you, and you want to savor every second.

When a second finger slips inside you, you can't help but rock your hips into her touch. The blend of your girlfriend’s tongue and fingers is driving you wild. "You feel so good," you whisper, gently gripping Alexia's hair. She chuckles softly, the vibrations from her laugh sending shivers through your sensitive clit, pushing you closer to the edge. You let out a loud moan, trying to hold back as a new and intense sensation builds within you. You try not to think about it.

With every new lick and thrust, you feel yourself getting wetter. Your brain turns to mush, and your grip on Alexia's hair tightens. She knows exactly what’s happening and slowly pulls back, straddling your hips as she slips her two fingers into her mouth, cleaning them softly. "I love your taste, amor," she murmurs, finishing with a satisfied smile. She leans in to kiss your tender breasts, eliciting a soft moan from you as her lips travel across your body once more.

"Amo mucho tu cuerpo," she says, her eyes filled with hunger. "I love you so much, mi vida," she adds, gazing into your eyes. A soft smile spreads across both your faces as you bask in the intimate moment, feeling the depth of your connection.

Your girlfriend plants a tender kiss on your lips before gracefully slipping off the bed to fetch something from the drawer. You're fully aware of her intentions, and the anticipation sends a thrilling pulse through you, heightening your arousal. Casually, you begin to caress your breasts, knowing full well the desire it stirs in Alexia.

As she straps on her favorite toy, her gaze locks onto you with an exhilarated grin. There you lie, sprawled and bare, legs invitingly open, gently massaging your breasts, lost in the wave of sensations. With her eyes shimmering with adoration and awe, Alexia is overwhelmed by the view before her, feeling profoundly fortunate to call you her girlfriend. The sight of you, so open and uninhibited, deepens her love and desire, drawing her irresistibly back to the bed.

Your eyes flicker open at the sound of the bottle cap being unscrewed, and a mischievous grin spreads across your face. "Do you really think we need that, bebita?" you tease playfully, your voice laced with anticipation. However, before you can protest further, Alexia interrupts with a gentle reminder of caution. "We shouldn't take risks. I don't want to hurt you," she says, her tone soft and caring.

As you watch her meticulously lube up the toy, a surge of affection washes over you. Alexia's thoughtfulness and consideration never cease to amaze you. Even in moments where it might seem unnecessary, she prioritizes your comfort and well-being above all else, ensuring that every experience with her is filled with tenderness and care.

As she lays back on the bed, you understand her desire. Though you've been hesitant about this position in the past due to its vulnerability, Alexia's reassurance today fills you with confidence. "Are you ready, mi vida?" she asks softly, her eyes filled with warmth and affection. With a nod of your head, you straddle her hips, feeling her hand intertwine with yours for support.

Alexia lines up the strap with your core, and as you sink onto the toy, a chorus of moans fills the room. You pause at the end of the toy, taking a moment to adjust to its size. With both of Alexia's hands gently holding your hips, you lock eyes with her, finding nothing but love and adoration reflected back at you.

"Just start slowly," she reassures you, her voice soft and encouraging. Taking a deep breath, you begin to move, your body rising and falling in a rhythm that feels natural and intimate. With each thrust, you feel a sense of connection and trust deepen between you and Alexia, making this moment one of pure love and passion.

Unlike your girlfriend, you're not a professional athlete, so you find yourself out of breath sooner than you'd like, and your legs begin to shake before long. But despite the physical strain, you're determined to push through for her sake. It's not that you don't enjoy it—because you really do—it's just that it requires a lot of effort, and sometimes your mind gets the best of you.

Alexia notices your body tensing up a bit, and she sits up, her abs flexing, a sight that doesn't go unnoticed by you. She leans in to kiss your breasts softly. "You're doing absolutely amazing, bebita. I adore watching you like this," she says softly between kisses. Your mind turns to mush once again, and for a moment, you're completely lost in the sensation. Sensing your need, Alexia lays her head on your breasts and pulls you into a tight hug.

Your head rests on her shoulder, giving you a perfect view of her back adorned with tattoos. You trace a finger over the intricate designs around her neck and then plant a soft kiss on her neck before resuming your movements back and forth.

In this new position, the closeness between you was palpable, each trust sending vibrations of pleasure through both of you. Alexia held onto you tighter, feeling the strain in her abs but relishing in the sensation.

You were making her feel so good once again, and she couldn't help but be drawn closer to the edge herself. She hadn't expected to reach that pinnacle again so soon, intending this to be all about you. But as you moved together, she felt herself teetering on the brink once more, drawn in by the sounds of your breath hitching and the sweet moans escaping your lips.

"¿Puedes ir un poco más rápido, amor?" Alexia's voice is laced with urgency, her desire evident as she yearns for a faster pace. She knows this rhythm won't send you both over the edge, but she can't hold back any longer, not with you straddling her and riding her toy in this intoxicating new position.

"I'll try," your words catch in your throat as you shift slightly, positioning yourself backwards to thrust into her more fully and faster.

Alexia's hand tightens around one of your breasts, her grip firm, her other hand steadying herself to prevent from falling backward. Her touch sends shivers down your spine, bringing you closer to the brink. But something feels different for you, the sensation unfamiliar and intense, igniting a spark of anxiety within you.

"Ale, something feels different," you manage to pant out, your heart racing with anticipation and a hint of fear. Despite your unease, your body refuses to stop, craving the pleasure that threatens to consume you.

Alexia's eyes widen in realization, knowing exactly what's about to happen. It's a moment you've never experienced together, but now, it's on the brink of unfolding, and she can't help but feel a surge of excitement at the prospect.

"It's okay, mi vida, just let it come. You're here with me, safe. We're here together. It's okay," Alexia's reassurance washes over you, soothing your anxieties with her words. Despite the intensity of the moment, her presence grounds you, offering a sense of security that allows you to surrender to the sensations coursing through your body.

As she leans in for a sloppy but soft kiss, you feel a wave of comfort wash over you, melting away any lingering worries. When you part, she settles back again, her gaze fixated on your dripping core and the toy buried deep inside you. The sight fuels her own arousal, her desire building with each rhythmic movement and every moan that escapes your lips.

You teetered on the edge, your soft pants and moans growing louder with each thrust. With newfound determination, you picked up the pace, surprising even Alexia with the rapidity of your movements. The toy glided in and out of you effortlessly, your body bathed in a soft glow, beads of sweat glistening on your skin.

Alexia, unable to resist any longer, surrendered to her own climax, her moans mingling with yours as she whispered praises of your beauty. Your grin faltered slightly, a hint of worry creeping into your expression. "Should I stop?" you asked softly, mindful of her sensitivity after such an intense experience.

"No, please, don't stop," Alexia pleaded, eager to witness your unraveling. "Does it still feel different?" she inquired softly. "Sí," you panted out, feeling the intensity building within you. Alexia's thumb found its way to your clit, applying gentle pressure and circling it with expert precision. A moan of pleasure escaped your lips as you felt the knot in your stomach drawing closer to release. You reassured yourself in your mind that everything would be okay; after all, your girlfriend was here with you.

For a moment, your mind went blank, overwhelmed by waves of pleasure that left you unable to think or hear anything but the ringing in your ears. Alexia's voice reached you softly, but it was distant, muffled by the intensity of the moment. Then, suddenly, clarity returned, and you felt an incredible release of pleasure wash over you from deep within your stomach.

With a reflexive movement, you scooted backward, your back arching as your breasts were fully on display. Alexia's hand found one of them, her touch sending shivers of delight through your body, while her other hand continued its skillful ministrations on your clit.

Her eyes widened in amazement as she noticed the liquid dripping down your core and onto the sheets, evidence of your overwhelming arousal. Amidst your moans of ecstasy, you managed to articulate, "Gosh, this feels good. You feel so good." With gentle precision, Alexia withdrew the toy from within you, replacing it with two of her fingers, which elicited even more liquid from your trembling body.

As you lay back on the bed, your eyes fluttered open to meet Alexia's gaze, her smile radiating love and adoration. In that moment, you felt an overwhelming sense of connection and intimacy, knowing that you were completely and utterly cherished by the woman before you.

"That was so hot, mi amor. Te amo mucho," she whispers, leaning in for another soft kiss. You can't help but smile into the kiss, feeling a warmth spread through you at her words. As she caresses your body tenderly, she notices your heightened state of arousal and withdraws her hand, her concern evident in her gaze.

"Are you feeling okay, amor?" you ask, always attentive to her well-being. She appreciates your care, her smile softening as she looks up at you. "Sí, mi vida. More than okay," she assures you, her eyes reflecting contentment and love.

"And are you feeling okay?" she inquires, gently brushing her fingers against your cheek. "I'm more than okay too," you reply, returning her smile with equal affection.

You shift slightly and notice a wet patch on the bedsheets, your cheeks flushing bright red. "I'm sorry, the bedsheets," you manage to stammer out, feeling a bit embarrassed.

"Don't be, it was hot and I want to see that again," she says with a playful wiggle of her eyebrows, making you laugh.

"En serio, quiero volver a ver eso," with that, she leans in for another soft kiss, and you sigh contentedly.

"T'estimo tant," she whispers against your lips before lifting you up in her arms bridal style to carry you to the bathroom for cleanup.

As you shower, she takes care of the bedsheets, her thoughts wandering to when she might get to experience that again with you, hoping it will be soon.

The love she feels for you fills her chest, and she can't wait for the day when she gets to marry you.

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

Do you think I should try writing a bit more smut again?

[dorabellingham]

Comeback

warning: none

characters: jude x reader

summary: when after a while he scores the first goal of the season

may contain spelling and translation errors!

The tension was in the air. It was a decisive game in La Liga, and all eyes were on Jude. It had been a while since his last goal, and the silence from the fans regarding his name was starting to weigh on you. You knew that this goalless streak had been bothering your boyfriend, even though he had been trying his best in every training session and match. You saw how dedicated he was, but you knew he was anxious to break this streak. And now, there, in the Real Madrid stadium, you were rooting with all your might for that day to come.

You were sitting in the stands, your eyes fixed on him, with that deep feeling that everything was going to work out this time. Your heart was racing, your hands were cold from nervousness, and you were barely breathing with each of his plays. For you, each move was like a leap, a quick climb to the top of a mountain and then a plunge back to reality. Every moment felt like it was your match too, cheering for him with all your soul.

Then, it happened.

In a spectacular move, Jude found a space between the defenders, received the ball and, without hesitation, kicked it with precision. The ball went straight into the corner of the goal, passing the goalkeeper with a quick and precise movement. The stadium exploded in cheers of joy, and the energy of the crowd seemed to almost bring down the stands, they were so excited. You stood up, your hands covering your mouth in pure shock and euphoria. Your face lit up with a smile that you couldn't control -the smile of someone who had just seen the person they love do something extraordinary.

Jude, with the most radiant expression in the world, ran towards the fans, and when he got close to the stands, he raised his arms, opening them in a gesture that had already become his trademark. It was at that moment that his eyes met yours, and you, without thinking, imitated the gesture, opening your arms in the same pose as his, in a connection that seemed to cross the field and the barriers. It was as if, in that moment, the two of you were one.

The crowd noticed and started to scream even louder, the fans around you applauded the scene, as if they were witnessing a unique and intimate moment between the player and the person who supported him so unconditionally. You couldn't hold back your laughter, infected by the happiness that radiated from Bellingham, and he, from the field, couldn't stop looking at you, also laughing, both of you absolutely overcome by the joy of that moment.

Your eyes shone with pride and admiration, and Jude could feel, even from a distance, how happy you were for him. After a difficult period, he had finally broken that silence on the field, and seeing you there, supporting him, encouraging him and celebrating with him, made it all worthwhile. He felt that he wasn't just playing for him, but for the two of you, for that beautiful story you were building together.

When the game ended, with the victory assured, Jude went to the edge of the field to find you, who was already waiting for him with the sweetest and proudest smile in the world. He pulled you into a tight hug, and you whispered in his ear:

—I knew you could do it, I knew your moment would come.

He laughed, his face pressed against yours, still breathing fast and his heart racing.

—That goal was for you, babe. Always for you!

You caressed his face, your eyes filled with emotion.

—I’m so happy for you, Judie. You have no idea how much.

You stood there, still hugging each other, with the applause of the fans in the background and the rest of the players approaching to celebrate. But for Jude and you, that was a moment that belonged only to the two of you, a shared victory, where the goal, the fans and the noise of the stadium seemed to fade away, leaving only the loving and happy look you shared.

[redeemingvillains]

why do you have the best reaction pics of all time? i am howling. flangst is my favorite thing of all time - i love the emotional rollercoaster!!! heheh!!

no but the way i literally was like it is CANON that his favorite team is the falmouth falcons, so i needed to get a name from them and zoryn chosen was a BEATER nonetheless. anyway this is solely dedicated to you and your brilliance, ily <3

obliviate - mattheo riddle

summary: when voldemort finds out about you and mattheo, he devises the perfect way to keep you apart.

word count: 5k

a/n: okeeey i know this is longer, but i actually adore it so much! kinda put my heart + soul into this one! extremely special shoutout to @pizzaapeteer's research on mattheo's favorite quidditch team, which provided a name i needed at the very end (hint hint!) ♡

warnings: angst (but also fluff, pls, it's me), use of the cruciatus curse, voldemort being voldemort.

soundtrack: dancing to the sound of a broken heart - galantis

OBLIVIATE (v.) -- To forget, to wipe from existence.

You noticed before he did.

It was early; the morning sun was just barely sneaking past the curtains in the window that fluttered gently in the autumn breeze, setting his bedroom in a deep golden hue. Your limbs were heavy with sleep and you were settled warmly in Mattheo’s arms, you could feel the rise and fall of his chest at your back, his warm breath on your neck. Normally this was your very favorite way to wake up, but something was off, something had made your eyelids flutter open, a feeling, a foreboding.

You didn’t want to wake him, gods knew he needed his sleep, so you squinted slowly around the room until your eyes rested on the very arms that were wrapped around you.

It was his dark mark, writhing against his skin.

No— you thought, but in an instant, Mattheo jolted awake, breathing heavily like he was coming out of a nightmare, or coming into one, and within a moment he was pulling his arms out from around you and you immediately felt cold for their absence.

“Matty” you whispered, turning to face him and reaching out for him, but he was already up and out bed, pulling his clothes on haphazardly.

He turned at the sound of your voice, looking longingly at you for the briefest moment, tangled in his sheets, perfect in the morning glow, your eyes begging him not to leave.

“Stay?” you asked quietly, and his stomach lurched. Fuck if you didn’t have the ability to bring him to his knees with just one word; but his arm burned and ached with impatience… He wouldn’t be kept waiting much longer and Mattheo could only come up with so many excuses as to why he was always late without exposing the truth, desperate to protect you.

“I have to…” he started, but he didn’t finish the statement, didn’t want to say what exactly he’d have to do and thank the gods you never asked.

“I know” you sighed.

“I love you” he said, leaning forward to kiss you sincerely, his fingers brushing your jawline, taking one last piece of humanity and goodness with him.

“I love you more” you whispered as his form disappeared in front of you, leaving you alone.

Mattheo knew the moment he arrived that something was deeply deeply wrong.

He recognized his surroundings at once: the Riddle family manor. The halls echoed with a silence so familiar to him and his childhood it felt like his heart stopped beating so as not to make a sound. Besides silence, though, he also felt the other hallmark of his childhood: loneliness. He was alone; not one in a mistakable mix of followers that he could slip into undetected, he was home, and he was alone, and he felt an uneasiness, a sickness settle over him as the hairs on the back of his neck began to rise and he turned to see his father stepping out of the shadows.

“Twelve minutes” he said by way of greeting, avoiding Mattheo’s eyes as he approached him like a predator would its prey.

“Twelve minutes. From the time I summoned you, until now. What, pray tell, was so pressing, so urgent as to cause your delay?”

Mattheo’s mind swept quickly over the image of you in his bed, your hair splayed on his pillow, the smile on your lips and your soft whisper as he’d apparated, but he quickly dismissed the thought.

“S’early” he said, kicking himself for how his voice waivered in its reply.

Voldemort nodded in mock understanding, like he was considering this, drawing out the silence between them, painfully so.

“So not only are you late, but you are also lying” he said, emphasizing the last word, spitting it like a hiss, his black eyes snapping to Mattheo’s in way that caused him to jolt in reply, an automatic defense mechanism against the only living being capable of scaring him as Voldemort stormed towards him, entering his personal space as his voice rose.

“Do you remember what happened to Alexei Donovan when he lied to me?” he asked.

Mattheo’s eyes shifted between his fathers, swallowing, vividly remembering watching Nagini devour Donovan limb from limb as they’d all watched.

“ANSWER ME!” his voice boomed.

“Y-y-yeah” he stuttered.

“Yes, my Lord” Voldemort corrected him.

“Yes, my Lord” Mattheo repeated.

And then Voldemort’s tone changed completely, as he took a step back and a smile spread across his inhuman face, which was somehow more disturbing than the alternative.

“But I am a merciful Lord, aren’t I?” he asked, his head cocked, daring Mattheo to disagree.

“Yes, my Lord” he said.

Voldemort nodded in approval.

“Yes, I am. And what a relief that must be to Ms. YLN at this very moment, hmm?” he asked, his eyes clocking Mattheo’s reaction as the blood drained from his face, his eyes blew wide and his shaking hand reached for his wand.

You watched the empty space where Mattheo had apparated like he might change his mind and come back, perhaps willing him to, before you laid back down, settling for his lingering warmth and his smell against the sheets when you heard footsteps outside the door.

You sat up, excited...naive you would think later, so fucking naive with the hope that he had returned, only to feel the blast of the door getting blown off of its hinges as you moved to cover your face from the flying debris.

Mattheo was breathing erratically, his chest visibly risibly rising and falling with pure, unadulterated rage mixed with a fear so palpable it was like he could taste it on his tongue. He was desperately trying to rein in his emotions and failing miserably as his mind catapulted over every worst case scenario.

He spoke, finally, conjuring the only thing he could think to say as his brain continued in overdrive.

"Don't" he said firmly, threateningly, his voice level for the first time that morning.

His father smiled broadly without an ounce of kindness behind his eyes as they narrowed.

"You never learn… What did I tell you? What have I always told you? This—" he said, gesturing to Mattheo's body shaking in fight or flight mode "—is weakness. Look at you!" he said with disgust, with disdain, "You're worthless. You can't decide what to you, your mind is divided when it should be focused; you're thinking of her when you should be thinking only of yourself!"

Mattheo heard every word he was saying, but all he could think about was you, about how to get back to you, how to stop whatever had already begun; but it was like chasing a train on foot that had long since left the station, no matter how badly he wanted to jump in front of it, it was far too late.

"So, one question remains" Voldemort said, circling him again. "You...Or her?" he asked, sneering.

Mattheo's eyes flicked darkly to his father. "Me or her what?" he said through gritted teeth.

"Surely you understand that I can't allow this relationship to continue with the way it's destroying you, and while the Carrows provided me with a lengthy list of ways we could enforce that" he said, smiling, letting the threat of his most devoted followers linger. "I have something much simpler in mind." He stopped pacing, snapping to face Mattheo fully, his robes flourishing around him.

"I will have your memories" he said proudly. "And one of you will forget their feelings for the other... forever" he whispered as Mattheo felt weak in his knees, like they'd buckle beneath the weight of what had been said.

"So, whose will it be?" Voldemort asked.

You felt excruciating pain in every limb, every tendon, every bone, and when you opened your mouth to scream, the Carrows took your words.

All you could do was watch them through the tears that poured out of your eyes in your silent struggle, willing, praying for Mattheo to come back, pleading with him in your mind; please, please, please you thought even as you felt your resolve and strength waning.

Mattheo's mouth had run dry and there was bile in the back of his throat at the impossible decision before him: Either forget the brightest light in his life, perhaps the only thing keeping him steady in an ever-spiraling world, forget the way your skin felt under his fingertips, the smell of your shampoo, how tightly you squeezed him when he hugged you, or the sound of your laugh, the way you listened sincerely to him with your full attention or rubbed his back when he couldn't sleep; forget the only and most sincere feeling of love he’d ever experienced.

Or worse, meet your eyes and not see a light behind them, the way they'd twinkle with adoration for him, watch you forget him completely and live life instead as your friend, a bystander, maybe even watch you fall in love with someone else... His stomach lurched.

...But in a way, isn't that what you deserved? To live a life free of all of this, free of him and the pain he caused you, constantly, every time he had to leave, every time he had to live this second life. You were meant for more than this, you deserved to be loved by someone who could give you everything in return.

"Hers" he spluttered. "Take her memories" he said quickly before he could change his mind.

Voldemort nodded obligingly before waving a hand, dismissing him.

Your eyes fluttered open as you lay in your four-poster bed, a soft smile on your lips as you saw the morning sun just barely sneaking past the curtains in the window that fluttered gently in the autumn breeze, setting your bedroom in a deep golden hue.

Your limbs were heavy with sleep and you were settled warmly in your sheets. You felt refreshed, though you had the smallest echo of a headache that you attempted to rub away as you got ready for the day.

You made your way down to breakfast, settling in amongst your friends.

"Good morning!" you said cheerfully as you took your usual seat between Pansy and Blaise.

"Good morning, babes!" Pansy chirped as the rest of the boys nodded, waved, and greeted you in various acknowledgements. You grabbed a pastry and pressed closer to Blaise to help him with the crossword puzzle in the Daily Prophet. You were deeply focused on the black and white print when Mattheo wandered in, sliding onto the bench across from you. His movement caught your eye and you glanced at him and offered a small wave before returning your attention to the paper.

And that was all he got.

A glance, a smile that he tried to hold on to, to see if there was even a glimmer of recollection behind it. But there was nothing.

The spell was strong. It had tied up every lose end. Your things were gone from his room, your pictures together wiped clear by the time he returned, even your hair tie had disappeared from his wrist. And when he crawled into his bed, and realized your scent was gone from his sheets, he pulled his pillow over his head to mask his muffled sob.

Now not even his friends remembered your relationship, he realized, as he looked around at them, all totally unphased by the fact that you weren't glued to each other's side. At once he craved the way Theo complained incessantly about your PDA, and Blaise teased him for being whipped. He would give anything anything for something other than the complete ignorance in front of him.

He'd never felt so alone.

A few days later, you noticed Mattheo was...off. Even moreso than usual. You were used to him being standoffish, reserved, a total closed book, but you sensed something different about him. You had never been close, but something about his demeanor kept catching your attention.

"Are you okay?" you asked him that weekend at the Slytherin house party.

You'd had to raise your voice to be heard over the crowd and the loud music and his eyes snapped to yours, almost in shock, before they began intently searching your face.

You looked back at him, confused, waiting for a reply.

"M'fine" he said finally, taking a long drink from his cup in an effort to occupy hands that desperately wanted to pull you into him and lips that desperately wanted to tell you a truth that didn't exist anymore.

"Lighten up, Matty!" you said, gently shoving him on his chest as you walked away, and he nearly choked on his firewhiskey, because there was only one person in his life that had ever called him that, and it was you, beginning the night you'd first time told him you loved him.

He watched you walk away and fade back into the crowded party, wondering, daring to hope that there was a way to get you back.

After that night, Mattheo’s attention on you increased tenfold. The following morning he'd squeezed his way next to you at breakfast, nearly knocking Blaise off the bench as he slid you your favorite coffee.

"Oh!...Thank you?" you'd said, surprised as you peered over his shoulder at Blaise and then looked down at the latte. "How did you—?"

"—Can I walk you to class?" he asked eagerly, a smile on his face.

"Suuureeee" you said hesitantly.

Then, he wanted to walk you to every class, and he'd even offered to carry your books. It was kind, endearing even, but it felt misplaced, so out-of-the-blue that it caught you off guard and confused you.

"Mattheo, I really want to thank you for everything you've been doing for me" you said finally as you walked out of your potions class to find him waiting for your eagerly, like a puppy, a smile on his face. Your eyes shifted to the classmates that walked by, eyeing the two of you together. "I just want you to know, I'm not really looking for anything serious. We're friends, that would be a little...weird, you know?" you said gently.

A moment.

And then he felt a chasmic split in his heart that he didn’t think he’d live through once, let alone twice. It had never occurred to him that there was a world in which you wouldn’t fall madly in love with him again as your words brought a memory rushing forward...

"Is this going to be weird?—" you asked, breathless, until his lips cut you off again, crashing to yours as his hands pulled you further against him in the broom closet. "—Darling, I could not care less" he murmured against you, and you laughed as your fingers tangled into the curls at the base of his neck and he felt your tongue against his own. “Mmm our friends are going to lose their mind” you whispered, grinning wickedly at him.

"Matty?" you asked, concerned at the look on his face, pulling him out of the memory, even as he tried and failed to hold on to it.

His eyes refocused on yours as his face darkened.

"Why are you calling me that?" he asked abruptly, his eyes narrowing.

"What?" you asked, taken aback at his tone.

"Matty. Why are you calling me that?"

"I—" you started before looking up at him, confused, feeling the dull ache of one of your more frequently occurring headaches coming on. "I-I don't know" you said quickly, a blush rising to your cheeks as you pushed past him.

He turned and punched the wall forcefully, feeling his knuckles crack in response.

Weeks went by. Every second in your existence was a painful reminder of what he would never have again, and yet he refused to distance himself, desperate for your laugh even if was for someone else, your smile, even if he wasn't the one to put it there.

Sometimes he swore he saw the slightest recollection in your eyes; he'd catch you looking at him, and you'd smile when he caught your eye, but it was always friendly, never like the look you used to give him, with the glimmer of something sinfully mischievous beneath it that had the two of you tumbling into his bed between classes.

The whole situation was setting him on edge, making him more anxious and fidgety than he'd ever been. But, of course, no one seemed to notice, his friends either chalking it up to his normal idiosyncrasies or bewitched to ignore his unusual behavior.

Now he was staring at the book in his lap, reading the same line over and over and over again, his mind running ragged as you sat beside him. At this distance he could smell your perfume, could feel your warmth radiating next to him and his heart ached at your proximity.

He hadn't realized he was doing it at first, but his leg was jiggling incessantly between the two of you, his jitters working at the pace of his mind, his body's panicked response to being so tantalizingly close to you, so desperate for you and not being able to have you. Suddenly he felt a warm hand on his leg, resting there gently as fingers began to trace a familiar pattern on his thigh, causing his jittering to slow along with his heart, which had now dropped into his stomach.

He glanced sidelong at you, afraid to move an inch, terrified that you would stop. He noticed you hadn’t broken your concentration on your book, perhaps hadn’t even realized you were touching him, it was like your body was moving on autopilot to comfort him in the very way you used to, tracing hearts on his thigh before nuzzling into him or pressing a warm kiss to his cheek.

He held his breath with the hope that this might mean something deeper, that there was a piece of you that remembered him as he closed his eyes, and tried to focus on the pattern of your fingers, the simple touch nearly bringing him to tears as he tried to let himself live in the memory of you.

You were right at the very best part of your book, the plot finally taking off, when you felt the familiar ache in your head that very quickly turned to a throbbing that brought you back to the present moment, and made you realize your hand had been resting on Mattheo’s thigh.

“Oh, gods!” you said suddenly, pulling your hand back quickly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t—” you started until you saw the pained expression on his face, his eyes closed, his head hung as his hand carded through his hair. Your headache was pounding in full now, enough to make you wince and touch your temple. His eyes fluttered open, looking at you with concern.

“YN—?”

“—S-Sorry!” you said quickly, gathering your things and beelining for your room.

“Have you noticed anything… different with Mattheo recently?” you asked Pansy that weekend.

You were laying on your stomach on your bed, flipping casually through a magazine as she sat next to you, admiring her nails as she painted them a deep emerald.

You’d tried to ask as nonchalantly as you could, but she looked up at you with an eyebrow raised in question.

“I don’t know he’s been so… strange with me. He’s wanted to walk me to class, and carry my books, he wants to hang out all the time and he somehow knew how I liked my latte…?” you trailed off, leaving out the way your hand had ghosted over him, the expression on his face, and your recurring headaches that didn't feel like a coincidence anymore, flaring up every time you were around him.

A moment passed but Pansy didn’t reply and when you looked at her you saw that her expression hadn’t changed; she was staring blankly at you, not saying a word, which was extraordinarily odd to put it mildly.

This was the type of gossip that would usually have her on her feet, screaming, spiraling, devising a messy plan to get two of her best friends together, but you were getting nothing in return, less than nothing.

“Pans?” you goaded, prompting a response.

Her head tilted slightly, abnormally in a way that was starting to creep you out as her blank stare continued and you slowly pulled yourself upright and away from her.

“Let it go” she said flatly. “You’re imagining things.”

You were taken aback and started to respond before she interrupted you.

“—I mean, you can’t think that he’s into you or something, do you? He would never go for you… what would he see in you? What could you possibly have to offer the Dark Lord’s son YN? He’s got girls lined up out the door for him.”

You felt tears sting your eyes as you sat up fully now. Never once in your almost ten years of friendship had she ever said anything like that to you before. You were hurt, but you also couldn’t help but feel like something was very very wrong as fear fluttered in your heart at her dark words and unnatural expression.

Suddenly, your mind snapped black for a moment to another time you felt foreboding, felt fear in your bones, screaming silently with no one to hear you and you stumbled to your feet, wiping the tears from your eyes as your head throbbed so hard you were afraid you were going to be sick.

Pansy looked up at you, and smiled, unphased by the way you were shaking or swiping at your running mascara as she smiled. “Want to go to dinner babes?” she asked cheerful again, like she had forgotten everything she’d just said to you.

“I-I’ve got to go” you said quickly, as you made your way for the door, desperate to find the person you sensed was responsible for this all.

You made your way to the common room in slow motion, like one of those dreams where you’re running but not actually going anywhere. You felt flushed and feverish as your body began to tremble and the room felt like it was distorting itself. You looked around frantically and found Mattheo walking in your group of friends on their way to dinner.

“YN!” Blaise cheered, noticing you approach as Draco and Theo turned in concert, smiling widely at you with uncannily happy expressions.

But the minute Mattheo’s eyes landed on you, his smile dropped to concern and he quickly approached you, closing the distance between you.

“What’s wrong?” he asked immediately, reaching for you before pulling his hands back awkwardly.

“Can I talk to you?” you winced as your headache intensified “Please?”

“Yeah, of course” he said eagerly, motioning to his friends, “I’ll catch up with you” he said, nearly ignoring them completely as he led you back towards their now empty room.

He shut the door behind you both and you swayed on your feet before moving between the four poster beds and sitting on the edge of his.

There were five identical beds in the room and he tried not to read too much into the fact that you’d known which was his, even though in this reality you’d never been here. And then he tried to calm the erratic beating of his heart of you being here, alone with him, in his room, shaking the thought from his mind quickly as he took in the pained look on your face, your eyes pinched closed as you rubbed your temple

He came quickly to you, kneeling in front of you, moving to place his hands on your legs and pulling back, never knowing what the fuck to do with them anymore around you.

“What’s going on—” he started.

“—What did you do to me?” you whispered harshly, your eyes fluttering open, your face scrunched angrily in accusation.

“What?” he asked, confused.

“Mattheo, something is very very wrong, and you can’t tell me you don’t know what I’m talking about.”

He stopped breathing. It couldn’t be.

“Our friends aren’t normal, people around us aren’t normal, and I feel like my insides are on fucking fire” you said, grimacing. “And it only happens when I’m around you. I’m not an idiot, Mattheo, is this because I turned you down?”

For his part he looked like he was about to cry, he didn’t look threatening or guilty, just enormously sad as he looked up at you with his amber eyes and your headache split to a nearly debilitating degree and tears flowed from your eyes in pain.

“My head” you said in a muffled sob.

You felt his warm hands rest on your legs, the first time he’d let himself touch you in months and you felt another flash in your mind, him smiling down at you with a lopsided grin in a way you’d never seen him look at you before, with adoration, with longing, with love, but it didn’t feel weird this time, it felt normal, so familiar…

“YN?” he whispered and your eyes fluttered open to see his transfixed on you, scanning your every feature, his expression full of concern. “Please hear me when I say I would never ever hurt you.” A lie he realized too late as he looked at you now.

“I-I know that?” you said shakily. “Somehow I know that but I don’t know how else to explain this or how I’m feeling” you said, sniffling.

“Fuck!” he muttered in frustration as he stood up and started pacing, running his fingers through his hair. He was certain that something was happening and yet he had no idea how to help you, the image of you crying in pain on his bed making him physically ill.

You sniffed again and said the next sentence so softly he swore he'd dreamt it.

“You have a scar on your shoulder, here” you said, gesturing over your own shoulder blade, tracing the same pattern of the raised skin on his back.

“You take your tea with milk and two sugars” your voice wobbled but was gaining strength as you kept speaking and he turned to look at you.

“You write left-handed but play quidditch right handed.”

Your eyes squeezed shut, words tumbling from your mouth now, like a broken dam.

“You always wanted a dog growing up and if you’d had one you would have named him—"

“—Zoryn” you said simultaneously. He moved to approach you, crouching in front of you again as he stared at you in awe, unable to believe what was going on.

Your eyes opened at his voice.

“After my favorite quidditch player” he said. “YN you’re the only person who knows that.”

“Why do I know these things?” you asked, pained.

He opened us mouth but nothing came out.

“Matty” you were practically beginning him to help you understand but he was too scared to be wrong, too scared to tell you the truth.

“...I’m the only one that calls you that” you whispered, and he nodded encouragingly.

“Yeah, you are” he said quietly, gently.

You reached out tentatively, your hand trembling and touched his cheek and he let his head fall against the palm of your hand, nuzzling into you as his eyes fluttered closed. You sniffed again.

“It’s okay, love, I’m here” he said tenderly.

“B-But you weren’t there” you said, breathing heavily all of a sudden, panicked. “I-I was scared and I wanted you there and you weren’t there…” and just like that your eyes blinked to his and memories came like an avalanche as you stood and he rose his feet beside you.

The first time he kissed you, the feeling of his warm palm in yours, tangling your fingers in his curls, feeling the gentle rise and fall of his chest in bed, the way he’d pull you onto his lap at breakfast and everyone would moan about it, him nuzzling into your neck, his arms around your waist and his hand at the small of your back in the corridor between classes. His lopsided grin as his amber eyes twinkled down at you and he whispered “Gods, I’m crazy about you, darling”

“I remember! I remember!” you said finally looking up at the real Mattheo standing in front of you, his face somewhere between sheer panic and shock and suddenly the inches between you were too much as you flew into his arms, wrapping yourself around him as he lifted you off the ground.

“Fuck baby” he said as you felt him shaking beneath you. “I’m sorry I’m so fucking sorry. He made me. M-made me choose, your memories or mine and—“ he choked up as hand came to rest on the back of your head, holding you closer to him “—I didn’t want you to live a moment in any reality thinking I didn’t love you.”

“It’s okay, Matty, it’s okay” you murmured against him, clinging to him, to the moment.

“None of this is okay” he said back.

“It’s ok now” you reassured him.

He made to pull back but you squeezed him tighter, afraid.

“I don’t want to forget” you mumbled into his neck.

“You’re not going to” he said through a laugh, the first time the sound had left his lips in months.

“Let me guess” you sniffed against him, fighting the knowing smile on your lips, “because you’re unforgettable” you grumbled at his cocky humor.

“Well, yeah” he said, laughing genuinely now, even as you pinched him.

“But more importantly—” he said as he took a step forward to lay you down on his bed so he could look at you, could finally see the sparkle of recognition in your eyes that he had been craving. You were looking back at him like you were committing his every feature to memory, your stomach flipping at how beautiful he was, at how you could ever forget it, tracing the scar at his eyebrow, his flushed cheeks, his lips and noting the twinkle in his eyes.

“—You’re not going to forget because the most powerful wizard alive already tried to make you, and it didn’t fucking work.”

You smiled at him, resolutely. “I could never forget you.”

“That’s right, baby” he said as he leaned down to brush his lips against yours, lingering for just a moment, savoring it like it was the first time all over again.

taglist: @dustie-faerie, @urfavfrenchgrl, @darlingshecried, @thegoddessofnothingness, @kenjikishimotoswifey, @mattiesgf @sleepiibunniiii @girllblogging777 @foivetimesacharm @clar2aa @broadwaybaby123 @slytherinscreamqueen @sectumsempraaa

[lvnleah]

Finley’s first birthday

word count: 4.2k

the very last chapter in Finley’s last year! I do have other bits written for the williamson’s for when he’s older with siblings but I’m not sure if I’ll post them <33

find the masterlist here!

March 29th 2025 | 1 year old.

You stirred as the sun peeked through the curtains and shined on your face, instinctively turning toward Leah beside you. The peaceful rise and fall of her chest was a sight you had always cherished, but today, on her 28th birthday, it felt even more special.

March 29th had always been a favourite day for you because it was a day dedicated to the woman you loved the most. It was a whole day where you got to celebrate her and she couldn’t say a word.

Last year the day got even more special. You gave birth to your baby boy and now you get to celebrate your two favourite people in one day.

A smile tugged at your lips as you lay there for a moment, simply watching her, memorising the way her blonde hair fanned out across the pillow, the gentle curve of her lips, and the way she looked so peaceful as she slept.

It was a rare luxury to have these quiet moments in the morning before Finley woke up, and you weren’t about to waste it. You leaned in close, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, your lips lingering there for a second before moving to her temple, then to the bridge of her nose. Leah stirred slightly, her brow furrowing in that adorable way she did when she was waking up.

You continued your gentle assault of kisses, letting your lips brush over her closed eyelids, her cheeks, the corner of her mouth and finally her lips. Leah’s eyes fluttered open, and a sleepy smile graced her face as she blinked up at you.

“Good morning, birthday girl,” you whispered as you sat up in bed, “Happy 28th.”

“Mmm, morning,” Leah murmured, her voice laced with sleep. She reached up, wrapping her arms around your waist and pulling you closer, her eyes still heavy with sleep. “That’s a nice way to wake up.”

You chuckled softly as she rolled onto her back. You straddled her hips. “I thought you deserved a special wake-up today. It’s not every day my beautiful wife turns 28.”

Leah’s smile widened, her hands rubbing at your hips. “Thank you, love. And it’s not every day our little boy turns one either.”

The year had flown by, filled with so many firsts, and you couldn’t help but feel a little emotional as you thought about how much had changed since Finley had come into your lives.

“Please don’t remind me,” you sighed, tipping your head back dramatically, “I can’t believe our baby boy is one. Where has it gone?”

Leah nodded, “I know, he’s gotten so big. He’s a proper little human now!” Leah’s fingers gently traced patterns on your hips as she looked up at you, her expression softening. “How did I get so lucky?”

You leaned down to kiss her once more, this time it was a slow, lingering kiss, one that spoke of all the love and gratitude you felt for her. When you finally pulled back, you smiled down at her, your fingers brushing a stray strand of hair away from her face.

“I’m the lucky one,” you whispered. “A perfect wife and a perfect baby boy.”

You laid down on Leah’s chest, resting your head on her shoulder as she rubbed patterns on your back underneath your (her) shirt.

The peace didn’t last long. Just as you were beginning to lose yourself in Leah’s touch, you heard soft, familiar babbles coming from the baby monitor on the nightstand. Finley’s little babbles, sleepy and full of curiosity, drifted through the speaker, signalling that your little boy was awake and ready to start his day.

Leah chuckled, “Looks like the birthday boy is up.”

“I’ll go get him,” you offered, but Leah shook her head, already swinging her legs over the side of the bed as you rolled off of her.

“No, let’s get him together,” she said with a smile. “I want to see his little face.”

You smiled and nodded as Leah slipped on a hoodie. You followed her, pulling one of Leah’s old hoodies over your head as the two of you made your way to Finley’s nursery.

As you reached the nursery door, Leah paused, turning back to you with a soft smile before quietly pushing it open. Inside, Finley was standing in his crib, gripping the bars with his tiny hands, his wide blue eyes blinking up at you both. His blonde curls were slightly crazy from sleep, and his cheeks were rosy with the warmth of the room.

The moment he saw the two of you, his face broke into a wide, toothy grin, and he let out an excited squeal, bouncing on his little legs. Leah couldn’t help but laugh, the sound filling the small room as she leaned over to scoop him up into her arms.

"Happy birthday, Bubba," she cooed, pressing a kiss to his forehead as she held him close. You stood beside her, reaching out to run your fingers gently through his curls.

“Look at you,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “One-year-old today. How did we get here so fast?” you cooed as you placed a kiss on his cheek.

Finley giggled in response, his tiny hands reaching out to grab and pat Leah’s cheeks before turning his attention to you, his little fingers stretching towards your nose before grabbing it. You leaned in, pressing another kiss to his chubby cheek before taking him from Leah’s arms and cradling him against your chest.

Leah stood beside you, her arm wrapping around your waist as the three of you swayed gently, a little family moment that felt perfect in its simplicity. You breathed in the familiar scent of your baby, feeling his warmth against you as Leah pressed a kiss to your temple.

“What do you think, birthday boy?” Leah asked softly. “Ready for some cake later?”

Finley babbled in response, clearly unaware of the significance of the day but happy to be wrapped in the love of his two moms like usual. His little hands patted your chest, and you couldn’t help but laugh softly, the sound catching in your throat as emotion welled up inside you.

“I can’t wait to celebrate him and you,” you smiled.

“It’s going to be fun,” Leah smiled, “Shall we head back to our bed and get our presents, Bubba?” Leah cooed, tickling Finley’s stomach.

Finley let out a delighted squeal at Leah’s tickling, his tiny legs kicking excitedly as you both laughed at his joy. His laughter was infectious.

"Let's go, birthday boy," you said, bouncing him gently in your arms as the three of you made your way back to your bedroom.

As you stepped back into the bedroom, you placed Finley down in the middle of the bed, watching as he wobbled slightly on his legs before plopping down on his bum with a giggle. His wide blue eyes darted around the room with curiosity, his hands grabbing at the soft duvet as he babbled happily.

Leah climbed onto the bed beside him, pulling out two bags full of gifts for Finley. "Look what we’ve got for you, Bubba," she said in a sing-song voice, holding a small gift just out of his reach, playfully teasing him. His eyes locked onto the colourful package, his tiny hands immediately reaching for it with excitement.

You sat down beside them, watching as Leah handed the present over to him. His chubby fingers fumbled with the wrapping paper, tearing at it slowly, completely absorbed in the process. You and Leah exchanged amused glances, laughing softly as you watched him try to figure it out.

“Need some help, buddy?” Leah asked, leaning in to give him a hand. Together, you helped him pull the paper away, revealing a small, plush toy in the shape of a baby elephant. Finley's face lit up, and he immediately grabbed the toy, squealing.

"Looks like it’s a hit," you grinned, watching him chew the elephant’s ear.

Leah reached over to brush her fingers through his messy curls. "I think he likes it," she said softly, her voice full of affection.

You leaned against Leah’s shoulder, watching your son play with his new toy. Leah quickly pulled away as he tried to crawl toward the edge of the bed. She quickly scooped him up before he could make it too far.

“Not so fast, buddy!” Leah smiled, setting him back down on the bed, “You’ve still got a few more presents.”

Finley sat back down on the bed, his little legs bouncing with excitement as Leah handed him another brightly wrapped gift. His tiny hands eagerly grabbed at the paper, babbling to himself as he tore at the edges with a bit more help from Leah. You watched as she ripped the wrapping away to reveal a wooden stacking toy, the colourful rings immediately catching his attention.

“Oh, look at that, Finley,” you said, your voice filled with excitement to match his, “You can stack all the rings!”

Leah laughed softly, as you both watched Finley pick up one of the rings and attempt to fit it onto the post. His concentration was fierce, his brow furrowed in the same adorable way Leah’s did when she was focused. It made you smile even more, seeing these little traits of hers in him.

“I think we might have a little genius on our hands,” Leah teased, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“He gets that from me, obviously,” you joked, nudging her playfully as you rolled your eyes.

Finley managed to get one of the rings on the post, letting out a delighted squeal that made both you and Leah cheer softly for him. His grin was infectious, his wide eyes looking back and forth between the two of you as if he knew he had accomplished something big.

You handed him the next ring, and he clumsily placed it on the post, Leah clapped for him, her face lighting up with pride. “Good job, Finley! You’re doing so great.”

After opening the rest of Finley’s presents you got up off the bed and grabbed Leah’s out of the bottom of your wardrobe. You gasped as Finley’s face lit up, “Shall we give Mumma her presents, bubs?”

You placed the presents on the bed beside Leah, who had now settled comfortably with Finley on her lap. “Are you ready for your presents, love?” you asked Leah.

“Yeah, I am!” Leah replied, her voice filled with enthusiasm.

You handed Leah the bag of gifts, she picked out a box and carefully tore away the wrapping paper with Finley’s tiny hands gripping at the edges, helping to reveal the gift inside. It was a delicate silver necklace with a small heart-shaped locket—a piece you knew Leah had admired for a while.

“Oh, this is beautiful,” Leah breathed, her eyes misting with tears as she opened the locket to reveal tiny photos of Finley and you inside. She looked up at you, her voice catching. “Thank you so much. It’s perfect.”

You smiled, reaching out to wipe away a tear from her cheek. “I’m glad you love it. You deserve something special.”

Leah gave you a warm smile, her heart full as she leaned in to give you a heartfelt kiss. Finley, sensing the affection, wiggled excitedly in Leah’s lap, reaching out to touch the necklace with curious fingers.

“Let’s see what else is in the bag,” Leah said, gently pulling out another gift.

The next gift was a beautiful photo book filled with pictures of the past year. Each page was a snapshot of your family’s milestones and everyday moments, capturing the joy and love that had filled the past year.

Leah’s eyes widened as she flipped through the pages, a smile spreading across her face. “Oh my god, this is amazing,” she said softly. “I can’t believe you put this together.”

“I wanted to make sure we had a special keepsake of all our memories,” you explained, leaning closer.

Leah looked at you with deep affection, her voice barely above a whisper. “Thank you. This means more to me than you know.”

Finley, now reaching for the book, babbled happily, clearly intrigued by the colourful photos. Leah let him explore, his little fingers touching the pages as he giggled.

You spent a little while longer in bed, opening Leah’s presents, before making your way into the kitchen. You set Finley down in his highchair and gave him one of his tether toys to keep him entertained.

Leah’s hand slipped under your shirt as you cut up some fruit for Finley, she placed soft kisses on your shoulder before following you around the kitchen as you made some pancakes.

The smell of pancakes soon filled the kitchen. As you flipped the pancakes, Leah busied herself setting the table and preparing a few toppings—fresh fruit, maple syrup, and a sprinkle of powdered sugar. Finley watched intently from his highchair, his curious eyes tracking every movement you made.

Leah glanced over at you, her expression one of contentment. “These look amazing,” she said, placing a small bowl of berries in front of Finley.

Once the pancakes were ready, you served a stack onto each plate, setting them down at the table. Leah moved Finley and his highchair over to the table while you cut his pancakes into small, manageable pieces. He eagerly grabbed at the food, his tiny fingers smeared with syrup and fruit.

As the morning continued, the three of you enjoyed your breakfast together, the conversation flowing easily between bites of food and laughter. Finley’s giggles and cheerful squeals added to the mix.

After breakfast and a bit of playtime, it was time for Finley's first nap of the day. You and Leah carefully cleaned up, making sure the kitchen was tidy before heading to the nursery. His little eyes were already drooping as you balanced him on your hip.

You sat down in the rocking chair, Leah crouched beside you as she read him a book, and before you knew it he was fast asleep in your arms.

You gently placed him into his crib, Leah adjusting his blanket as you turned his sound machine on. Finley’s soft breaths soon filled the room, you and Leah quietly stood by, watching him drift off to sleep.

With Finley asleep and the morning behind you, you and Leah had some time to yourselves. You worked together to set up the final decorations and get the cake ready for Finley and Leah’s party. Once everything was prepared and ready you and Leah started to get dressed for the day.

It wasn’t long before you were both ready for the day and Leah’s family soon arrived. You opened the door to see Amanda with her arms already outstretched, ready to greet you both. David, Leah’s dad, followed closely behind with a warm smile, and Jacob was carrying all the presents.

“Happy birthday, sweetheart!” Amanda beamed, immediately pulling Leah into a hug. “How are you both?”

“Thanks, Mum,” Leah smiled as she took her bag of presents from her Mum. “Just can’t believe he’s one already.”

“We’re both emotional but we’re good,” you smiled. “Come in! We’ve got everything set up.”

“Where’s Finley?” Jacob asked, glancing around as he set the presents down.

“Oh well hello to you too Jacob, thank you, Jacob,” Leah sarcastically said.

You laughed at the sibling banter, shaking your head, “He’s napping, he should be awake soon though.”

Just as you finished your sentence tiny babbles came through the baby monitor, “That’s him awake, I’ll go get him.” You told Leah.

“Good timing,” Amanda grinned, “The birthday boy knows he’s going to get spoilt like usual!”

You slipped away to grab Finley from his crib, leaving Leah to chat with her parents. Moments later, you reappeared, holding a sleepy but smiling Finley, his blonde curls slightly flattened from his nap. The second he spotted Amanda and David, his face lit up in recognition, his little arms waving excitedly.

“Oh, there’s our birthday boy!” Amanda cooed, stepping forward to take him into her arms. Finley giggled, his tiny hands grabbing at her necklace. “You’ve gotten so big, haven’t you?”

David leaned over to give Finley’s hand a soft squeeze. “Look at this guy, already a year old. Time flies,” he said.

Amanda set Finley down on the floor who immediately crawled over to the stack of presents and sat on the floor beside Jacob.

Jacob chuckled as Finley grabbed at the brightly wrapped gifts, his chubby hands tugging at the paper with enthusiasm. "Looks like someone knows what's coming," Jacob said, giving Leah a wink.

Leah sat beside Jacob on the floor who was helping Finley tear into the paper as he sat on his lap. He squealed when he finally unwrapped the gift—a soft, plush lion with a crinkly mane and ears. Finley immediately grabbed it, squeezing it in his tiny hands as it made a satisfying crinkle sound, another squeal leaving his body.

“He loves it!” you laughed, watching the way Finley stared at his new toy.

With Finley happily occupied with his new toy, the rest of the presents were quickly unwrapped by Leah and Jacob. There were clothes, books, and toys, each one met with a tiny bit of interest before Finley went back to his lion. Once Finley had opened his present, Leah opened her before the chaos of the party began.

Just as you were clearing up the wrapping paper with Amanda, the doorbell rang. “I’ll get it!” Leah shouted from the hallway before opening the door.

A few moments later, Leah walked into the living room with Beth, Viv, Kim and Vic following close behind her. Each of them held a tiny bag that contained their gift.

“Happy birthday, Le.” Beth smiled as she hugged Leah, “I can’t believe Finn’s already one!”

Leah grinned as she hugged Beth back. "I know, right? It feels like just yesterday he was a newborn."

Beth, Viv, Kim, and Vic greeted you and Finley, who was now happily playing on the floor with his new lion. Each of them knelt down, taking turns cooing over the birthday boy. Finley’s eyes lit up with excitement, his tiny fingers tugging at the clothes and toys they brought.

“Happy birthday to the little man,” Kim said with a warm smile, handing over her gift. “And happy birthday to you too, Leah.”

Leah laughed as she accepted the gift bags. “Thank you! I’m feeling the love today.”

As the party began to pick up, Leah’s teammates mingled with her family, all of them taking turns playing with Finley and catching up with you both. The garden was decorated with bunting, balloons, and a special banner that read, “Happy 1st Birthday, Finley!” The sun was shining, and it felt like the perfect spring day.

Leah’s dad and Jacob were busy setting up the barbecue while Amanda helped you arrange the food on a long picnic table. As you placed down platters of snacks, Leah came up behind you, wrapping her arms around your waist and pressing a kiss to the back of your neck.

“Everything looks amazing,” she whispered.

You turned to face her, a soft smile on your lips. “Only the best for my two favourite people.

Leah kissed you gently before Beth came over, holding Finley, who was now wearing a tiny party hat. "Look at this little guy!" Beth laughed, holding him up for Leah to see.

Leah grinned and reached out to take Finley, balancing him on her hip. "He’s ready for his party, aren’t you, Bubba?"

Finley babbled in response, grabbing at Leah’s hat, and making everyone laugh.

The afternoon was filled with laughter, food, and playful banter. Leah's teammates took turns kicking a ball around the garden, playfully showing off for Finley, who watched them with wide eyes. Leah’s family chatted with everyone, creating an atmosphere of warmth and joy that made the day feel extra special.

As the sun began to lower in the sky, it was time for the cake. You brought out a small cake just for Finley—a simple vanilla sponge with a tiny candle. The main cake for Leah and the guests was a larger, elaborate one, decorated in her favourite colours with a hint of Arsenal’s red and white.

Leah sat down with Finley in her lap as everyone gathered around, singing “Happy Birthday” to the two of them. Finley’s wide eyes locked onto the flickering candle as everyone finished singing, and with Leah’s help, he blew it out, earning a round of applause.

“Happy birthday, my loves,” you said softly, smiling at the sight of Leah and Finley together.

Leah kissed Finley’s cheek, then looked up at you with a loving smile. “I couldn’t ask for a better birthday.”

Finley giggled as Leah helped him stick his fingers into his cake, his chubby hands quickly covered in frosting as everyone laughed and cheered him on. The day was filled with love, and as the party continued into the evening, you couldn’t help but feel grateful for the beautiful family and life you had built together.

Leah grinned, shaking her head in disbelief as she hugged Beth back. “I know, it’s crazy! Feels like just yesterday he was born and you were visiting us in the hospital while Y/N was in labour.”

Kim stepped forward next, giving Leah a gentle hug and handing her a small gift bag. “Happy birthday! Can’t wait to spoil the little man today too.”

“Thanks, Kimmy,” Leah smiled, taking the gift and placing it on the side table with the others.

Viv and Vic joined in the hugs, each of them cooing over Finley, who was still thoroughly engrossed in his new lion toy. Viv leaned down, gently ruffling his blonde curls, “Happy birthday, little man. Look at you, so big now!”

“He’s definitely growing up fast,” you chimed in, walking over to join them. “We barely blinked, and here we are, celebrating his first birthday.”

Leah’s other teammates—Steph, Lia, Lotte, Kyra, Katie, and Caitlin—arrived shortly after, all bringing smiles, laughter, and gifts with them. Each of them greeted Leah with a hug and fussed over Finley. It wasn’t long before the living room was buzzing with energy, Leah’s cousins Holly and Jordan arrived with Henry and Leah’s grandma, Berny.

Leah wrapped her arms around you from behind as you set up the sandwiches with Amanda, “This is perfect, I’m so proud of you for setting this all up.”

You turned your head to place a kiss on her cheek, “Anything for my favourite people.”

As the party moved into the garden, where the sun was shining brightly, the decorations you and Leah had set up earlier shimmered in the light. A large banner that read “Happy Birthday, Leah and Finley!" hung proudly across the patio, with balloons, and a beautifully decorated cake sitting on the table.

“Sorry I’m late, blame London traffic.” Keira said as she entered the garden, “But I come bearing gifts!”

Leah laughed, “You’re always late, but I’ll forgive you since you brought presents.”

Keira shook her head as she rolled her eyes playfully, walking over to set the gifts down on the table. “Happy birthday to the best boy,” she cooed, tickling Finley’s stomach who was now resting on Amanda’s hip. “And happy birthday to my best mate too, I guess.”

With everyone settled in the garden, drinks were poured, snacks were passed around, and the laughter flowed freely. As the day rolled on, the time for cake finally arrived.

“Alright time for the cake, gather round!” Leah announced to everyone as you set Finley down in his highchair.

Once everyone was gathered around Finley and Leah, Amanda came out carrying a cake with the candles lit. Finley’s eyes widened at the sight of the flickering candle, his hands reaching out toward it which Leah quickly pulled back.

Happy Birthday rang out around the garden, everyone smiling as Finley looked around in confusion. He looked at you and Leah with a confused look before looking back at the cake.

“Blow the candles out, Finn!” You encouraged him as everyone finished singing.

Leah gently blew the candles out, smiling as she clapped her hands. “Happy birthday, Bubba,” Leah whispered, pressing a kiss to his cheek as the room erupted into applause. “No one else I’d rather share the day with”

You cut Finley a small piece of cake, watching as his tiny fingers grabbed at it hesitantly before shoving it into his mouth. The room was filled with laughter as he smeared frosting across his face, clearly enjoying his first taste of birthday cake.

As the evening drew to a close, the guests slowly started to leave, offering their goodbyes and final birthday wishes to Leah and Finley. The house became quiet once more, and you and Leah, both tired but happy, tucked Finley into bed. You stood by the crib, watching as his little chest rose and fell with each peaceful breath, your heart full.

Back in the bedroom, Leah pulled you into a hug, holding you close. "Thank you for today," she whispered. "It was perfect."

You smiled, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. "It's all for you, birthday girl. I love you."

"I love you more," Leah murmured against your lips, her hands resting on your hips. “More than you’ll ever know, pretty girl.”

liked by bethmead_ and others

leahwilliamsonn bubba’s first birthday, no one else I’d rather share my birthday with x

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[persicipen]

₊ ˙ ⊹ . 𝓟𝒂𝒔𝒔𝒂𝒈𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆. KAMISATO AYATO ₊ ˙ ⊹ .

ৎ୭ — · · 2.1k ノ fem reader — distracting him from work in a certain way ノ petnames — dear . wife . darling ノ implied breeding kink . fucking against the wall ノ teasing and flirting . established relationship . marriage

When he sees you in his office room this late, he knows his frustrations with endless paperwork finally end as the long-awaited — and, what is wee embarrassing to admit, long-forgotten — break came to visit. Break, albeit used to describe many situations and events, in this particular case means you, his most beautiful wife. Ayato’s favourite type of break.

“It’s late, my dear,” he says, tone playful. “Shouldn’t you be sleeping already?”

Your fingers graze against his temple in a caring manner, and he purrs with satisfaction, allowing you to sit right beside him near the low table.

“I wanted to see you. It’s so cold in bed without you…” Your hand slowly slides from his temples to the nape, feeling your husband tremble ever so slightly at your meek touch. The warm pads of your fingertips trail across his shoulders and the area where the neck meets the broad back, resting for a bit and then gently rubbing circles against it, working through the layers of expensive garments. You don’t say anything for a few long minutes — rather, you’re fully immersed in taking care of his stiff muscles.

“Judging by the warmth of your palms, perhaps your claim is not entirely true, hm? Leaving your cosy bedding just to visit me in nothing but a flimsy robe? I sense an intrigue rather than a genuine concern.” Ayato’s hands grab yours before they escape anywhere else. He gives your knuckle a quick peck. Only once, unimpeachable, and he does this every single time you crave some intimacy after what seemed like eternity without him.

Frankly, you do not appreciate it. A pout forms immediately on your lips. They feel lonely, unkissed.

“Spare me a moment or two.” You wrap around his neck, burying your face in the curve of his shoulder and inhaling the intoxicating scent. Camellia flowers and cherry blossoms — a fragrance almost too sweet and innocent for a man such as Lord Kamisato. “I love you so much that I don’t know what to do with myself anymore if you’re not near me.”

What could have been better than enjoying all those delectable noises reserved only for him? A solid offer. No wonder you two are together, one always outsmarting another, always trying to bargain a better deal, be it a kiss, a hug, or an indecent touch during a walk in nature where even butterflies can’t seem to find a way to your secret place.

Insufferable are his thoughts now that you’ve inflicted this venom of lust into his system. If anything, the first dosage was administered long before this evening and had gone untreated due to your husband’s own unwillingness to firmly stop himself from overworking.

Ayato must say that it takes both more patience and determination than usual to fight off your beauty. The purple of his eyes never loses its enticing luster — a mystery worthy of thousands of poems dedicated solely to you. Why should he torture himself any longer while you’re within his reach, offering yourself so obediently?

“My sweet wife is already going for the kill.” His arms encircle your waist in one fluid motion. As expected, he grins to himself, feeling you shiver with excitement against his chest, gaze wandering between your parted lips and star-stricken eyes. “If your request wasn’t so very irresistible, then maybe… Oh well.”

None of you waste any more time, shamefully clawing at each other’s garments just to open them enough to continue making out. You cling to his nape as he puts one hand beneath your ass to hoist you up in order to carry you closer to him.

Every breath burns his throat until he presses you onto the nearest wall — away from the main corridor and prying ears of curious servants, which is unfortunate since he has planned something particularly scandalous involving said corridor. This one he will remember for another occasion, that is. Nothing lost. It does not matter anyway — whatever idea would’ve come to his head can be used tomorrow, a day after tomorrow, anytime, provided that the opportunity arises once again.

Ayato allows himself a brief evaluation of his abandoned tasks before getting down to business. A mere moment later, he’s fucking you relentlessly against the wooden column, your hair tangled with the surface and messy behind your head. With a warm hand on your cheek, it contrasts with the cool breeze coming through the window.

Debauched noises escape your throat without regard to decency, like waterfalls running dry after a hot summer, until there is nothing left but a silent heap of exhales.

Still starving for attention, deprived of everything your beloved husband has been reluctant to provide these past evenings, even the most minuscule gestures spark flames below your navel.

Supposedly, getting so easily wet could be considered unwelcome, always messing up your underwear, but in the company of your adored man, it’s perfect. It’s foolishly easy to slip past the entrance of your pussy and force it to catch every tiny shift of his shaft.

The quick work on your clothes made you too flustered to act before you could even explain your presence here in more detail. With an arm sneaking around your waist, he pulls you closer with a goal to slip his painfully hard cock deeper into your sodden cunt.

Alongside the kiss pressed to your forehead, his mouth lingers there for a brief moment, humming praises against your sweaty skin.

“Is this exactly what you wanted?”

“I love you.” You pant in desperation, fisting at the back of Ayato’s embroidered suit. A string of needy whines flows from your tongue in rapid succession while his lips pepper kisses over your jawline, up and down and across your heated skin until they land on the juncture of your neck, eliciting a small gasp as a reward.

“Aren’t you the most precious one? You should be aware that your words are more dangerous to my heart than any blade or poison.” The Commissioner lets his guard down, a ripple of relief and solace washing over him in the loving warmth of your closeness, and he leans into the embrace while holding you as careful as one holds an ancient vase.

“Hmm, isn’t that adorable that even you have a soft spot?” Your giggle turns into a wanton yelp as he manhandles you to fit against his lean body like a missing puzzle piece.

“Only because I adore you so dearly, I will allow myself to pause the work of utmost importance.” His fingers are brushing against the soft material of your night robe, creeping under the fabric to keep your thigh high enough for him to push his pelvis right against your clit. “It’s not as important as you, I have to admit.”

He kisses your cheek, and his lips travel down your jawline, the feather-like pecks on the side of your collarbone, and you can’t help the content sigh that escapes your mouth. His breath is ticklish, and when his teeth gently nibble the delicate skin, the gasp that follows makes him chuckle, his pace not slowing down.

“If my darling is not silent,” Ayato whispers, his hot breath fanning against your ear, “the servants may notice something unusual is happening in my private quarters.”

As if it would not rouse is excitement…

Such a threat is empty, just a fickle of a joke to raise your pulse before his pace returns to the previous rhythm. The mischievous sparkle in his eyes betrays his amusement, knowing that he will most likely fuck you dumb until you whimper out his name pleadingly, for he does not care if others hear how much of a perfect lover he is. Those working under him are long adjusted to the questionable ways of their Lord’s doings.

You can’t deny the effect it has on you, though. Especially with his hand moving to your mouth, covering it completely to muffle any delicious mewls slipping down your tongue.

“Bite it, if you have to.”

A rush of heat engulfs the pit of your stomach, your cunt squeezing his shaft hungrily. He doesn’t slow down — no, quite the opposite, as if motivated by the shame that strikes your silhouette. His thrusts are steady and merciless, and you are glad that the column is keeping you upright; otherwise, you’d collapse into his arms like a lithe rag doll.

It works like a charm on you. Heavy weight of his words, a need for control in every little detail, always caring, always considerate towards you. Although there are times where your husband will bend to your will and please you thoroughly, there are also moments like these when he won’t give you a chance to think straight, all because of such a simple reason.

He adores you to the point of addiction.

And now he wishes to enjoy you to the fullest without further pauses, reducing his duties to mere distractions that otherwise would stop him from revelling in your body.

No longer form a coherent sentence, you accept the mind-numbing sensation of his cockhead hitting the deepest spots simultaneously with his fingers rubbing at your wet, puffy clit. The tension in your core is threatening to snap at any moment, your juices soaking his length as your pussy greedily milks his shaft with each and every snap of his hips into your pliant body.

Even with limbs unable to muster out any strength to cuddle to your husband, the feeling of your hole gripping him like a vice rewiring Ayato’s mind into a mush, a delirious haze of lust. He removes his hand from your mouth, cupping your face and wiping the drool that is trickling down your chin, his thumb gently caressing the damp skin.

Dark lavender eyes follow sparkles dimming in your fluttering gaze as you try your best to not fall into bliss and close your lids. His forehead rests against yours, his breathing heavy and shallow, his lips dangerously close, and the Commissioner swallows at the familiar heat pooling in his abdomen.

“Just like this, dear,” he says softly, his voice trembling and strained. “Just a bit more.”

With a shaky sigh, he shoves his mouth against yours in a sloppy kiss to avoid any loud noise to escape him, savouring the flavour of your tongue as if you were the finest dessert prepared solely for his appetite.

Despite being unsure if you could truly make it last until your husband finds relief as well, you fight for balance on your shaking thighs while even a portion of your weight feels too much to bear on your wobbly knees. His cock swells, the pressure coiling and tightening from the inside of his balls as the release hits him like a tidal wave. As soon as his essence souses the walls of your womb white, you sob and join him in the moment of sweetest carnal satisfaction.

The sudden contractions of your cunt bring you both to the sweetest peak of pleasure, all too intense to not slump down the polished floors in a puddle of fine silk stained with your mixed essences.

Although Kamisato Ayato is the epitome of politeness and strict discipline, there is no way to deny the truth that he might turn the world upside down just to rest between the thighs of his darling wife.

The delirious euphoria comes to an end when he slips himself out of your snug cunt, soft and worn, satisfied but also amused upon noticing that some of his cum already leaked out of your hole. A pity, such a waste that his seed is seeping through the slippery gash. Maybe the idea of making you pregnant will stay with him until the next close encounter, then.

There is nothing left of composure that usually defines him as the leader of the Yashiro Commission. Instead, the sight is almost unnerving compared to his usual image. Clothes crumpled and skewed, hair ruffled atop his sheen forehead, and the pink blush adorning his cheeks. Perhaps you did him some good tonight after all, clearing his mind and relaxing the muscles tense from sitting still for hours. There are plenty of tasks left to be done — he won’t sleep even after exhausting himself — but perhaps now he’s willing to consider joining you in bed for the rest of the night.

As if hearing your thoughts, he chuckles breathlessly, scooping you up in his embrace without worrying about cleaning the mess just yet.

“There are several things I’d rather do instead of dealing with t-those reports right now...”

“Do I r-really have to coerce my beloved husband into sleeping together?”

“Obviously, no. It’s only a matter of fact that I forget about the passage of time until you have to visit my office. But wasn’t it just as sweet?” His teeth nibble at your earlobe before he laughs under his breath again.

[seitmai]

But he wasn't look out the bank of windows out towards the beach, in fact, he had his back turned to it. Because he was looking at you.

He is so whipped 🤭

Under normal circumstances, he’d take the hint and move on. And even if his mom hadn’t raised him right- which she had- Rooster knew that just because someone was nice didn’t mean they were interested. Especially when it was their job.

Carole would slap him from beyond the grave

It was more than the way you always seemed to catch him looking, because you were looking right back. Or the way you’d slip him a free drink every now and then, saying it was on the house. Or the way you found a way to brush past him a little too close whenever you'd swing by with more peanuts for Bob or a fresh round of drinks for his friends.

Just some little coincidences 🤭

You were so damn smart and funny as hell. He’d taken to spending less time on his ESPN app and more time on the NYT trying to find interesting topics to get to spend a extra few minutes with you. Nothing felt better than earning a smile from you.

That's some dedication, I respect that

"Now I know you're teasing me." He sets his phone down and levels a look at you. "Because we both know you catch me looking often enough to know the answer to that." You press your lips together, but the corners curl up anyways. And then your eyes drop purposefully down. The two of you stare at his phone sitting on the shiny bar top. "You wouldn't," he rasps. "I think I'm legally obligated to. There's a very official wood sign and everything." You look the picture of innocence, but you don't fool him. "Sweetheart, c'mon." "Are you asking me to bend the rules for you? Just because Penny isn't here?"

Not even those baby cow eyes can convince her, which is unstable when it's about Penny's rules, I wouldn't dare going against them either (not even for a pair of baby cow eyes) ☝🏻

"I think you enjoyed that." You smile wider and don't deny it. "I can't lie, it is a fun perk of the job."

Big bonus of that job, I would enjoy it immense every time hehe

He sighs. "And here I thought we had something special." "Stop that, you're too pretty to pout," you tease.

Facts 🤭🤷🏻‍♀️

"Mmhm. I thought it from the moment I saw you strut through that door." You say it like you're letting him in on a secret. "And there’s something you should probably know about me." He leans in closer. "And what's that?" You mirror him, leaning in as well and resting your elbows on the counter. Your face is just inches from his. “I’m really good at getting into trouble.”

I can't decide if I wanna be her or be with her 🤭🤔

He grins. “I’m gonna marry you one day.” You tip your head back and laugh, it’s the best sound he thinks he’s ever heard. 

Rooster is like:

"Alas, it appears I have another gentleman caller," you sing, reaching for the towel and waving it like a handkerchief in his direction. "Guess I'll be seeing you around, Bradley. Maybe at the end of an aisle, who knows, the night is young."

This made me giggle

I loved this story so much!! She is so smooth and Bradley is so in love, the perfect combo for amazing banter 👏🏻

A prompt party, Alexa? How in the world did I miss that? I'd be over the moon if you could write a little something for Bradley + "i’m gonna marry you one day." 🪩 ✨

Rebecca! Now you know I’m always down to write a little something for a smitten Bradley! I hope you enjoy!

It was a surprisingly quiet night at the Hard Deck.

You could actually hear the music playing out of Penny's old juke box, rather than just the faint essence of notes for whatever oldie was queued up over the usual rowdy ruckus. And there were more empty chairs scattered about than there were taken ones.

It was one of the rare rainy days they got in San Diego. The gray skies and drizzle driving even the best of Uncle Sam's finest under blankets and curled up on couches.

Bradley always liked the moody weather. He liked the way the clouds seemed to cling to the coastline. He liked the rough rolling waves as they broke against the shore with more force than they usually did.

But he wasn't look out the bank of windows out towards the beach, in fact, he had his back turned to it.

Because he was looking at you.

Bradley had been trying to ask you out for the better part of two months now. And he was starting to think that you were giving him the runaround.

He'd learned that first evening that you were only filling in as a favor to Penny- she and your mom went way back as sorority sisters- for a few months as Jimmy recovered from his knee replacement surgery.

Under normal circumstances, he’d take the hint and move on. And even if his mom hadn’t raised him right- which she had- Rooster knew that just because someone was nice didn’t mean they were interested. Especially when it was their job.

But he couldn’t kick the feeling that there was something there.

All he needed was one date to prove it.

It was more than the way you always seemed to catch him looking, because you were looking right back. Or the way you’d slip him a free drink every now and then, saying it was on the house. Or the way you found a way to brush past him a little too close whenever you'd swing by with more peanuts for Bob or a fresh round of drinks for his friends.

You were so damn smart and funny as hell. He’d taken to spending less time on his ESPN app and more time on the NYT trying to find interesting topics to get to spend a extra few minutes with you. Nothing felt better than earning a smile from you.

But any time he got close to asking you out or asking for your number, you were pulled away by something or another. The sound of broken glass. A pointed throat clearing from a thirsty patron. An emergency trip to the storage closet.

Rain was good luck in some places, and Bradley needed all the luck he could get. It hadn’t been on his side in the past two month, but tonight was his night. He was sure of it.

Especially considering he was the only person seated at the bar.

You'd been popping out and checking on people, delivering refills personally to the few people who had braved the elements instead of having them come up to the bar.

Rooster was patient, he didn't mind waiting his turn. After all, he had a shiny new NYT subscription to keep him company.

He smiles to himself when you work your way back to the bar, grabbing the bowl of limes and a cutting board, and setting up right in front of him. He watches as you deftly slice and quarter the limes into wedges, their bright scent clinging in the air.

“Why does it feel like I’ve seen less of you tonight than I do when this place is packed?” Bradley asks, saving the article he was midway through before closing out of the app completely.

“I’m just a one woman show here tonight, I told Penny to stay home." You're tidy and efficient in the way you store the prepped wedges and work to clean up the already immaculate bar. "It's means a bit more running around for me. But I don't mind, I like to keep busy."

"So I've noticed."

You look up at him from under your lashes, as you wipe down the prep space. "Have you been keeping tabs on me, Rooster?"

"Now I know you're teasing me." He sets his phone down and levels a look at you. "Because we both know you catch me looking often enough to know the answer to that."

You press your lips together, but the corners curl up anyways.

"Oh, Bradley," you say with a soft sigh. "Bradley, Bradley, Bradley..."

And then your eyes drop purposefully down.

The two of you stare at his phone sitting on the shiny bar top.

"You wouldn't," he rasps.

"I think I'm legally obligated to. There's a very official wood sign and everything." You look the picture of innocence, but you don't fool him.

"Sweetheart, c'mon."

"Are you asking me to bend the rules for you? Just because Penny isn't here?" You tsk, with a self-satisfied smile. "And here I thought you were a Boy Scout."

Bradley just shakes his head amused as you sashay up to the bell and give it a loud, long ring. A couple whoops go up in response, but no one gets up. Yet.

You walk back towards him with an all too pleased smile.

"I think you enjoyed that."

You smile wider and don't deny it. "I can't lie, it is a fun perk of the job."

He sighs. "And here I thought we had something special."

"Stop that, you're too pretty to pout," you tease. "You gave me no choice. I don't make the rules, I just follow them. And as much as I love Penny, I have a healthy dose of-"

"-fear-"

You smirk. "I was going to say respect. But also you're not wrong."

"And what about me?" he asks, sitting up straighter on his stool. "What are your impressions of me?"

"Oh you?" You tilt your head to the side, letting your gaze linger on his face as you muse. "You look like trouble."

"Do I now?"

"Mmhm. I thought it from the moment I saw you strut through that door." You say it like you're letting him in on a secret. "And there’s something you should probably know about me."

He leans in closer. "And what's that?"

You mirror him, leaning in as well and resting your elbows on the counter. Your face is just inches from his. “I’m really good at getting into trouble.”

He grins. “I’m gonna marry you one day.”

You tip your head back and laugh, it’s the best sound he thinks he’s ever heard. 

“That’s a bold statement from the man who still has yet to ask me out on a date.”

He opens his mouth, to do just that, after months of failed attempts. And then another one of the patrons saddles up to the bar, waving you down for your attention.

Rooster groans.

"Alas, it appears I have another gentleman caller," you sing, reaching for the towel and waving it like a handkerchief in his direction. "Guess I'll be seeing you around, Bradley. Maybe at the end of an aisle, who knows, the night is young."

The smile you give him promises that this conversation isn't over yet.

You spin away from him and don’t give him a second glance as you head over towards the thirsty man whose beer is going on his tab, but there’s a sway in your hips that wasn’t there before.

And Bradley thinks to himself, this is going to be fun. 

[buck-star]

Marshmallow lover | B.B & S.R

>> Bucky comes home from a mission, flashbacks are brought back. But luckily you know what Bucky needs to clam down. Not only you and Steve but also hot chocolate. <<

Pairing: Boyfriend!Bucky Barnes x Boyfriend!Steve Rogers x Girlfriend!Reader

Wordcount: 2.852 Words

Warnings: poly-relationship, m/m/f, established relationship, anxiety/panic, mention of punching), nicknames (babydoll, princess, majesty), fluff

Authors Note: Dedicated to @mercurial-chuckles. Cause you asked for Stucky, hehe. I had another idea but I just haven’t had enough motivation or ideas to write it. So I hope you like that one anyway.

Events: Stucky Bingo [SB6010 | B3 | Writing Format: second person + November Prompt: Home | @stuckybingo] Steve Rogers Bingo [SB4054 | C3 | Free Space | @steverogersbingo]

Masterlist | Stucky x Reader Masterlist

It was one of these early winter days, where the weather wasn't too cold but you could already feel the breeze the winter was bringing with itself. The air was cool; your hands would have been ice blocks already, but luckily your boyfriend was holding one of them, and the other has been stuck in your pocket since the two of you left the house.

Actually, the two of you thought about staying home until Bucky came home — from the mission — in the evening. But when Bucky told you that he wouldn't be home before the late evening, Steve decided to force you in a loving way to go shopping with him. He knew you loved decoration, so it was the best opportunity to make you leave the house and have some fun with him. Otherwise, you would have sat in the hallway, watching the front door until Bucky walked inside.

It happened once, and both of your men made sure that they would distract you if the other one was on a mission and came home late. Of course, they understood why you acted like that; it was weird to have one of you not in bed at night or missing at the table during meals. Even watching television was different if one of them was on a mission — which didn't happen often anymore.

But after the last time you refused to leave the spot in the hallway unless you had to use the bathroom, Steve took you shopping this time. And luckily, he managed to get your mind off of the fact that Bucky could be injured when he came home. Even though you seemed distracted, Steve felt a little restless; he knew you felt the same, but he just hoped the decoration was distracting enough for you. Little did he know that you hoped the same for him, because deep down, you wanted to return home to make sure that Bucky was fine once he came home. But you tried to calm yourself; Bucky could call you once he was home, and he could take care of himself for a bit too. Plus, he sometimes even enjoyed having a moment just for himself after some missions.

When you had some items you wanted and were happy with, you and Steve made your way back home. It was just a short walk, but the later it got, the colder it was. You were shivering, and Steve's strong arm around your waist and his muscular body pressed against your side didn't help much to warm you up. “You know, my tooth...” you chuckled softly, moving them inside your shoes even though you didn't really feel them because of the cold anymore. “They are pretty cold. Guess they would fall off if I bumped them.”

“Then we get you home pretty fast. Don't want your toes to fall off. Bucky wouldn't like that either," Steve joked, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your hair. The two of you didn't talk much; there was no need. It was just the closeness to one another, the happiness and love that you felt whenever you were close to your boyfriends. So you just walked quietly along the streets with him, the sky slowly darkening, and you were glad you were almost home already.

After a few more minutes of walking, you finally walked into the warm house. It was almost a burning feeling on your skin, and you hissed softly. Steve had to shove you into the house, or else you would probably have walked backwards and out of the warmth back into the cold. He chuckled behind you, his calloused hands holding you by your waist before pushing you further into the hallway so he was able to close the door behind you.

“It's warm, isn't it? Maybe it’s because you're surrounded by such hot men.” Steve laughed softly, taking your jacket, before he took off his own jacket and shoes. You narrowed your eyes when you walked further into your house, looking around to find Bucky. You were sure he was home; his shoes were in the hallway where they belonged. But instead of your boyfriend coming immediately to greet the two of you, he was nowhere to be seen. Steve's voice interrupted your thoughts before you could even start to worry. “Maybe he's in the bedroom; he loves showers after a mission. While you look for him, I'm gonna make some hot chocolate for us.”

You nodded, pecking Steve's lips softly, before you turned away to walk to your shared bedroom. You didn't hear any noises, neither the shower nor Bucky looking through the wardrobe to find something comfortable to wear. You tried as best as you could to not worry about him. Bucky was sometimes pretty quiet, especially after missions. It was almost like he had to get used to home again to know he wasn't on a mission any longer.

The door of your bedroom was almost closed, but you saw a little part of the bed, the small bedside table, and a hint of something else — feet. Or it was more the toes that were curled, like they were the only part that was holding him grounded. You pushed the door open, looking to the side where Bucky was sitting. Your eyes widened as you saw him curled up into himself. His knees were pressed against his chest, his hands properly bruising his skin already, while his eyes were unfocused. Bucky was just staring into the air with a fearful expression on his handsome face.

You slowly walked closer to him, unsure what to do. Sweat was running down his forehead; even his hair was sweaty, and his clothes were stuck to him like a second skin — soaked in sweat. You're not sure how long he was sitting there like that; his teeth gritted, his jaw clenched, and you noticed his other muscles being more visible than usual through his clothes. Bucky was tense like he was still in a fight, and in a certain way he was — but instead of fighting against some people like Hydra, he was fighting his own battle with himself, with his fear in his mind.

“Bucky?” You asked softly, your voice just above a whisper when you kneeled down in front of him. There was still some distance, so he wasn't able to reach you if he would punch or kick. You have seen Steve in such situations with Bucky before; he had to take the one or another punch already — which caused Bucky to feel even more guilty after. But Steve always assured him that it's not as bad as it looks and that it would never change anything about the way he feels for Bucky or sees his boyfriend. And even though he never hurt you, Bucky was always sorry that you had to see him struggling so much with his nightmares and flashbacks from the past — you never judged him; you only loved him more when he couldn't love himself.

Bucky didn't react when you called him by his name. His fingers only tightened around his legs. You wanted to reach out, but you know you shouldn't. Bucky once had his hand around Steve's throat the moment his fingertips brushed along his lover's leg. And you knew Steve was stronger than you; he had struggled to get the other super soldier off of him, so you were pretty sure Bucky would crash you before you could even call for Steve. And both told you to never call Steve for help; they trust and love you, but they were too worried about you — and Bucky would never be okay with himself again if he would hurt you. And you understood it.

After another time calling him by his name but getting no answer, you sigh softly. Tears slowly formed in his eyes, rolling down his cheeks, and everything inside of you screamed to wipe them away, to pull him into you, but you were too afraid to scare him even more. So, you decided to make the only thing that came as an alternative solution to your mind — Steve.

From the time you walked into the bedroom to the moment you got up to walk to the door and shout for Steve, only a few minutes passed. But for you, it felt like at least twenty minutes, not being able to help Bucky and not wanting to leave his side while you tried to come up with something that could help without Steve's help.

You opened the door of your shared bedroom a bit more, looking out into the hallway. “Steve!” You shouted, earning immediately a soft ‘Yes.’ from him. He was still making the hot chocolate, but he was worried the moment you shouted his name instead of coming into the kitchen with Bucky. “I—I need you here. Or Bucky needs you... WE NEED YOU.”

Steve would have chuckled about your wording, but he knew that this wasn’t a situation to laugh about. He immediately turned off everything that could burn. His footsteps were loud and heavy when he walked to your shared bedroom. He noticed you looking out of the door, narrowing his eyes when he didn't see Bucky close to you. The big grump was actually holding you close, hugging, carrying, or kissing you the whole time. But right now, it was only you who waited for him to come to the bedroom.

"Where's Buck? Are you okay? Did he… What's wrong?” Steve asked, not even letting you a moment to answer. You brought your hand to his cheek, stroking it softly before giving him a slight, soft smile. He knew you didn't feel like you tried to show, but he knew you did it to calm the two of you down. It wouldn't help any of you to freak out or be more worried. After a moment, you take your hand away, taking a step to the side, and letting Steve walk into the room.

“He doesn't react when I talk to him. I-I don't know what I can do, but you... You trailed off, watching Steve's eyes widen as he saw your boyfriend looking like a lost puppy. You watched him walk over to Bucky, pulling you with him before Steve pushed you to sit down on the bed, and he kneeled down in front of Bucky. Steve was way closer than you were earlier, and you pulled your knees up, hugging them while you watched your boyfriends intensely. “You know what to do, right?”

Steve nodded, smiling softly. He turned his head back to Bucky, placing his hand on the brown-haired man's knees. Bucky hissed; his metal hand shot up to place a punch into Steve's pretty face, but he caught Bucky's hand. Steve held Bucky's hand tightly, trying to force his hand back down, and after a moment it even worked. You watched them with slightly parted lips; when did Steve find out how to catch Bucky's hand — especially his metal hand?

“Buck, it's me. It's Steve. You're home; do you hear me?” Steve asked, his voice soft. He ran his thick fingers slowly up and down the side of Bucky's thigh. He leaned a bit closer; his other hand was still holding Bucky's metal hand, and you wonder if Bucky was trying to punch him with his other hand but he didn't. “You're home, with me and our princess. You know, your babydoll.”

Bucky gasped softly, his eyes wider than before. His hands made grabbing motions, and Steve smiled softly, feeling Bucky being less tense than he was just a moment ago. Steve let go of his boyfriend's metal hand, using his hand to wipe away some sweat from Bucky's forehead.

“Hi, Buck,” he chuckled. Bucky slowly calmed down, noticing his surroundings. Bucky was slowly letting go of his legs, stretching them slowly between Steve's legs while his head fell forward against Steve's shoulder. “You're home; we are home. We got ya. Scared our princess a bit.”

“My babydoll?” Bucky's voice was hoarse and quiet, but Steve understood him anyway. He slowly nodded, caressing Bucky wet strands. Steve then turned his head to you, nodding at Bucky and mouthing that he just asked for you before he even asked anything else. “My babydoll, my Stevie.”

“We’re here, Buck. Do you want her to come closer as well, or do you need a moment?” Steve asked softly. He knew — you both knew — that Bucky was still pretty shaken up and that he could use some time to calm down or that he needed to feel the two of you, to smell the two of you, and to see the two of you to calm down completely.

Since the brown-haired man didn't really trust his voice, he only lifted his hand, making a grabby hand into the direction of the bed where you were still sitting. His other hand was interlaced with Steves, holding him close to Bucky. You slowly moved down from the bed; your knees were cracking softly when you stretched them out, and Steve laughed softly.

“Thought we were old, but you're cracking just like we do,” he told you, smirking before he moved a bit to the side to make space for you in front of Bucky. You rolled your eyes, moving closer to Bucky, but before you could have even said anything or moved another inch, he pulled you into his lap. You were straddling his thick thighs, your chest pressed against his.

Bucky hid his face in the crock of your neck, pulling Steve against his side so the two of you — the two people he loved the most, who meant everything to him — were as close as possible to him. After a moment of comfortable silence, he lifted his head. He was still sweaty, but his ocean blue eyes were brightened, and the sparkle you and Steve loved so much were visible again. A soft smile was tugging at Bucky's lips, causing you to smile as well. He leaned closer, pecking your lips before he did the same with Steve, sighing softly.

“Hi,” he chuckled, resting his head on your shoulder once again. “Missed you two. Do I smell hot chocolate?”

Both you and Steve laughed softly. When it came to hot chocolate, especially with marshmallows, you had to be faster than Bucky, or else he — accidentally — drank everything before you even reached the kitchen.

“Mhm, it’s probably cold again, but I can warm it up while you get a shower, sweaty,” Steve teased, using the nickname on purpose instead of ‘sweety’. Bucky rolled his eyes, growling softly, but he then nodded. Steve wasn't wrong; he felt like he had already taken a shower, but this time with his own sweat. “We got some marshmallows, and our princess got a lot of decorations.”

You nodded; your eyes lit up as you opened your mouth to start and explain what you got and why you got it. Bucky chuckled, loving your excitement. But he wanted you to show him and explain it while the three of you would be sitting wrapped up in a blanket on the couch with hot chocolate and marshmallows. So he pressed his lips onto yours before you could even start to tell him more about it.

“But I'm taking my babydoll to take a shower with me,” Bucky grumbled, and there he was again. Your Bucky, the love of your and Steve’s lives who never let go of you, who needed to be close to you, needed to kiss you and just show you all the love and affection. Of course, he did the same with Steve too, but he had another task, so it was you who was going to join him in the shower. “Plus, need her to wash my hair. Feels so much better when she massages the shampoo into my hair with her soft hands.”

“Of course you do,” Steve chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to Bucky and then your forehead before he got up to get the chocolate ready. Bucky opened his mouth, but Steve turned around, smirking at him. “Yeah, with as many marshmallows as you wish, my majesty.”

“Good boy.” Bucky grinned at Steve, who suddenly blushed and turned away. “Mission completed, making Stevie blush. Now, my next mission is to get you into the shower with me. Mhm, missed you. I love you so much, babydoll. And you too, Steve, I know you're standing in the hallway.”

“I love you too,” you say in unison with Steve, who then made his way down the hallway back to the kitchen. Bucky got up, keeping you in his arms before he walked with you to the bathroom, getting the two of you into the shower. It wasn't just cleaning him; it was a lot more Bucky being possessive and touch-starved, and you were his solution — you were gladly his way to get touches and be happy when it meant kisses, hugs, soft touches, and all the compliments you loved so much to hear from your boyfriends.

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Taglist: @pono-pura-vida @sergeantbarnessdoll @rogersbarber @kimmie113080 @sebastianstanisahotmf

[dark-corner-cunning]

Honoring the Spirits of Home: Creating Sacred Spaces for the Unseen

Welcome back, Seekers! Within my local coven, we are journeying through the mysteries of Spirit until Winter Solstice. Today, I introduced the art of crafting Spirit Houses, and I thought it would be fitting to share a bit of that here. I like to keep these crafty posts simple and open-ended, leaving space for the practitioner to add their own touch. The best magick often arises from just diving in and letting your intuition guide the way. May this inspire you to connect, create, and explore! 🌙✨

As witches, we work with spirits every day, whether we realize it or not. Our homes, like ourselves, are steeped in the spirit world, alive with layers of unseen inhabitants that have their own roles, wisdom, and stories to tell. For many of us, it’s a quiet understanding that a witch’s home should be haunted—not in the fearful sense, but filled with life that pulses in harmony with our craft. From ancestral guides and house spirits, to the land’s ancient beings, these entities weave themselves into the very fabric of our spaces, enriching them with energy and presence.

Regardless of whether a home is newly built or weathered by decades, each dwelling becomes imbued with spirit. There’s an existing ecosystem of energies that connect to the land itself, the history of the area, and the layers of life that once lived or passed through. These spirits, sometimes subtle, sometimes profound, thrive within the space we call home, coexisting with us and enhancing our magick. But it is up to us to nurture a balanced and harmonious relationship with them.

Why Connect with the Spirits of Your Home?

Developing a deep, reciprocal relationship with the spirits of your home doesn’t just benefit your craft; it offers blessings for everyone under your roof. When these spirits feel acknowledged and respected, they offer protection, lend strength to your magickal workings, and create an atmosphere of peace and nourishment. A home can truly feel like a sanctuary when the spirits that dwell within it are in harmony with those who reside there in the flesh. This connection turns your space into an anchor—a place of personal power, healing, and resilience.

Building Friendships with Spirit

Nurturing relationships with spirits requires time, care, and a commitment to reciprocity. Just as with human friendships, there is a cycle of giving and receiving. Spirits respond to sincere attention and intention, as well as the gifts and gestures we offer them. One meaningful way to foster this connection is by creating a spirit house or a dedicated space where spirits can feel welcomed and honored.

A spirit house is both a physical symbol and a spiritual anchor. It becomes a place where offerings can be left, and it serves as a gateway for interaction with the spirit world in a respectful and clear manner. It’s a way of saying, “You are welcome here, I honor your presence, and I seek your guidance and protection.”

Creating Your Spirit House

Designing a spirit house is a creative, personal process. It need not be elaborate; sometimes, the simplest gestures carry the deepest respect. You may choose a small altar, a shelf, or even a discreet box placed in a peaceful corner of your home. Consider using natural materials—wood, clay, or stone—as they tend to resonate well with spirits of place. Personalize it with items like stones from your land, soil, dried herbs, or even water from a local stream. Each addition builds a bridge between your energy and the spirits you invite into your home.

When crafting your spirit house, remember that offerings and gifts can strengthen this relationship over time. Spirits, like friends, appreciate time, energy, love, and tokens of appreciation. Remember, spirits are aware of intention as much as they are of the physical offering, so approach this creative expression with reverence and sincerity.

For my spirit house, I’ve chosen to weave in unsea, or “old man’s beard,” gathered lovingly from my mother tree, a sacred link to the ancient and wise energies of the land. I've placed birds within the space, their forms standing as messengers and symbols of spirit, guiding and connecting with the unseen. Mushrooms, too, find their place here, embodying my bond with the natural world—grounded yet reaching into hidden realms. They carry the magick of spiritual growth, reminding me of the mystery and connection to realms beyond. Each piece breathes life into the space, deepening my relationship with the spirits I honor… and I placed a bell at the entrance, placed with the hope of hearing it softly chime as the spirits pass through.

[griefabyss69]

Flashpoint

Written for @steddiemicrofic! And dedicated to @swifterthings. Happy birthday Meg!!! <3 <3 <3

[ AO3 ] 'GUARD' wc: 532 | rated: E | cw: Public sex, humiliation

Steve is a sexual thrill seeker, Eddie gets off on humiliation, and they're deeply in love—a tale as old as time!

By now, Eddie thinks he should be used to the risky shit they do whenever Steve gets adventurous. Sure, maybe a handful of strangers have caught them, but nothing bad has happened; usually they just laugh or duck their head and walk faster.

Still, it's like Steve's either gotten too confident or he's looking for a bigger thrill, because today he's got Eddie bent over the hood of his car in the parking lot of the grocery store.

It's nighttime, but cars are still going by on the road and if someone turns into the lot they'll see Eddie lit up on both sides by the headlights of the Beemer.

Eddie's knees are like jello and he can't tell if it's from the humiliation, the fear of getting caught, or the insane shit Steve's doing to him, with his long fingers stroking the inside of his ass. All he can do is flatten his hands against the hood and rest his cheek on it, giving into whatever Steve decides they're doing tonight. He's pretty sure he's drooling on the metal.

His mind is just starting to slip out of hard reality and into something a little more comfortable when a car does pull into the parking lot. Steve buries his fingers as deep as they'll go and stops, leaning over him to cover him with his body.

"Hide your face," he murmurs in his ear.

"Car trouble?" a man's voice calls from where he's pulled up.

"We're okay," Steve calls back, and Eddie gives a thumbs up, hoping the nail polish will help sell their heterosexuality.

"Pretty crazy to be doing that here," the guy laughs. "But have your fun."

"We will, thanks," Steve replies, wiggling his fingers inside of Eddie, forcing a helpless shudder out of him.

The man drives off and Steve pulls back, no longer hiding him, and once again Eddie's exposed to the world. He looks back, seeing the exhilaration in Steve's face, and understands.

Steve wants to humiliate him and save him. He wants to show him off and be his body guard at the same time.

"You fucking loved that," he accuses.

"Yeah," Steve sighs, happy. "You're lucky I covered you."

Eddie images Steve openly fucking him like this in front of the stranger and shivers, feeling his dick jerk where it hangs between his thighs.

"You love me too much to do that," he says, not sure if Steve's gonna take it as a challenge or not.

"That's not it," Steve says, using his free hand to get his jeans undone and pull his dick out. "I love you too much not to share you."

Eddie groans into the puddle of drool he left on the hood. The haze from before starts to overtake him again as Steve pulls his fingers out. He hears a cap, then there's cold lube sliding from his ass crack down to his balls, making him shudder and widen his stance.

When Steve pushes his dick into him it goes easily, but it's still a big hot thing taking its claim, connecting them in a way that never fails to make Eddie's spine melt.

"I love you too," he moans.

[anistarrose]

so first things first, every art post of Stan Pines with an aromantic flag adds years to my lifespan, and every time I see one, I feel an urge to dedicate my life to winding up on the Nobel Committee so I can somehow campaign for the artist to get a Nobel Prize. hence, this is obviously a pro-"throw aro flags onto Stan until he's drowning in them post," because we love our aroallo king. however, in my heart, there's a somewhat different headcanon about Stan's relationship to his sexuality that's canon to me, and it's something like:

Stan's known he's bi for at least as long as he's known what bisexuality was, and that's been a long time. he thinks he and bisexuality have always gotten on just fine, so if it ain't broke, why cough up the money (ahem. rather, the self-reflection) to fix it? of course, he still listens when Mabel tells him all about all the new terms, 'cause it makes her happy and that's just more pride flags to sell and get rich from! but it's not for Stan, he always feels.

but after a few years, Mabel starts trying out aro-spectrum microlabels, while still being pan, and Stan's internally like. huh. didn't know you could do that. and then Wendy comes out as aro and bi, and Stan's like. huh. Wendy makes an offhand remark about relationships losing appeal every time she actually got into one, and Stan's internally like. who the hell gave you permission to plagiarize my life story.

so, Stan doesn't go on to talk about "his romance thing" a whole lot. old habits die hard, and "bi" gets across everything he's every really felt like sharing, anyways. if you wanna know more than that, buy his dang memoir! (which he still hasn't written, 'cause Wendy went and pre-emptively plagiarized.) but Stan knows himself better now — and, you know, it's sappy, but he's actually kinda glad he does. old "failures" feel just a little less like failures, now.

[justwinginglife]

Blind in Love

Dedicated to @mangostarjam, you convinced me to finish the WIP since you asked about it lmao so thanks!

It had been awhile since you’d had good sex and even longer since you’d had a good date. 

Which was why, when your friend yammered to you -on a daily basis- about the new friend she’d made and how he was your perfect match, you allowed her to set up a blind date between the two of you even though you were still recovering from the first serious relationship you’d ever had ending. But you’d spent more than enough time mourning the past and you were ready to get back out there. If your date ended up being a serial killer, so be it; at least you’d die knowing you tried to have some semblance of a love life again.

At first, you almost didn’t get the date with him at all.

Your friend would tell you how kind the man was, how attentive the man was, how loyal the man was, and you were already sold from her first description. But she kept selling him to you anyway. The days would go by and she’d tell you he liked the same music you did. She’d tell you he was raised in the same area that you grew up in. She’d tell you that he liked the same foods you did. She’d tell you that he was a night owl like you. She’d tell you he liked the same TV shows. She’d tell you he had the same hobbies. She’d tell you he’d vacationed to the same places you had. She’d tell you so many details about him that it felt like you were going on a date with yourself. So you knew you had to meet this guy, you just had to. 

And then one day, she told you it was most likely not going to happen. 

How? How could the most perfect sounding man in the entire world not even want to meet you? Had she told him what she’d told you? Did he know you were practically soulmates? How were you supposed to hear about him everyday, to know all these things about him like he was suddenly your closest friend, only to never meet him, only to be rejected by him before he ever crossed paths with you?

This couldn’t be how things ended. 

But your friend was persistent. Thank god she was persistent. As much as she had promoted him to you, she doubly promoted you to him, and soon enough, she was giving you the good news that he had eventually agreed to go out on a date with you. He had even gone so far as to pick the time and the venue, so she had high expectations for the night. 

You had high expectations for the night.

You tried not to. You didn’t imagine there was anyone for you who could ever be as good as your first love, but if there wasn’t, it wouldn’t be for a lack of you trying to find them. You owed it to yourself, to your friend, to him, to give this date a good try. So even though you tried not to get all worked up over one simple date, you got excited anyway. You dressed up to the nines. 

When you showed up to the address that you’d been instructed to meet him at, you were shocked to discover you’d been here before, years ago. It was a cherry blossom garden. A cherry blossom garden that was usually extremely busy and yet somehow it was now completely deserted. And… lit up? You didn’t remember there being so many lanterns everywhere the last time you’d come here. 

Following the trails of lanterns, you found a man in a suit waiting for you at the end. He was down on one knee. Holding a ring box.

“I love you. I love you so, so much. Please, please marry me.”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

“No.”

“But why?”

“I’ve told you before and I’ll tell you again, I’m not going on a blind date. I’m not going on any date. Never again.” Hoshina waved his persistent friend away, thinking his resolve might end any further arguments. It only strengthened her resolve. 

She followed him down the long expanse of hallway, and boy, did he realize just how long it was as she prattled on and on. “But did I tell you she also grew up in the same neighborhood as you?”

He groaned. “Yes. Yes, you did. Doesn’t change a thing.”

“But did I tell you she hikes? You could go hiking together.”

“I don’t want to go hiking with anyone.”

“But did I tell you she cooks, and get this, she cooks your favorite foods. It’s honestly crazy how your favorite foods are like somehow what she specializes in. That’s gotta be some sign, right?”

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Really, I appreciate you trying, but nothing you say is going to make me change my mind about this.”

“Okay, okay, one more thing. You remember that, like, weird vintage medallion thing you have on your nightstand?”

He froze in his tracks. “...What about it?”

“You remember how you told me that they only ever made two of those medallions and you won it at some event? Get this- she has the other half of the set. She also won it at the same event. If that’s not fate, I don’t know what is.” 

He quickly turned around and started making his way back to his room. 

She watched him curiously, keeping pace with him as his pace increased. He was almost like a man on a mission the way he sped down the hall. She was sure he’d burn tracks into the floor with the way he was walking. 

“Can she see me tomorrow night?” He asked finally.

Her brows furrowed in confusion, wondering what on earth could’ve made him change his mind, and so quickly at that. But after all this begging and pleading with him to reconsider the date, she wouldn’t dare question his sudden change in heart. 

“Yeah, of course she can. She’s been waiting for you to say yes forever. I’ll text her. Do you guys wanna meet up at that restaur-”

“I’ll pick the place. I know the perfect spot.”

She blinked a couple times. What was going on with Hoshina today? Not only was he actually agreeing to go on this blind date when he’d been vehemently rejecting it these past few weeks, but now he was taking the initiative to plan the date himself? Something had to be going on. But she was too afraid to ask what, too afraid it would weaken his nerve. So she simply nodded and said, “Alright, good luck. I’ll let her know when you’re ready.” Then she vanished down the hallway, too stunned to speak any further. 

When he reached his room, Hoshina tossed out half his closet trying to figure out what to wear. What was one supposed to wear to propose to the love of his life that he hadn’t seen in years? What was one supposed to say?

He quickly called up the managers of the cherry blossom garden that he’d taken you to on your first date together and he bought out the entire place for tomorrow night. He didn’t want anyone walking in and ruining the only chance he might have with you. 

He took out the ring box he’d been holding onto these last several years and set it out on his nightstand, right beside the medallion that he’d won with you. Then he fell asleep dreaming about your smile. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I love you. I love you so, so much. Please, please marry me.”

Suddenly everything made sense.

Of course he liked the same shows you did. You always made him watch it with you. Of course he was a night owl, you stayed up late together watching those shows. Of course he liked the same hobbies, the same food, the same music, you lived together, it was hard not to pick up the same routines, to pick up the same interests. And all those places your friend had told you he’d visited that you’d also visited? You’d gone on vacation together. 

You’d done everything together. 

Until you didn’t. Until you broke up. 

But now here he was before you, and without even wasting a second to say hi it’s me again, he was already down on one knee proposing with a ring you told him you liked once in passing. 

At first you wondered why he was here, after so many weeks of declining to proceed with this date. Had he known it was you all along? Was that why he’d said no? But then why was he here? And with a ring no less? What was going on? What made him change his mind?

But suddenly you didn’t care. You didn’t care at all. You didn’t care about the how or the why or the what. You just cared about him. You just cared that the man that you loved, that the only man that you’d ever loved, that the only man you ever wanted to love, was kneeling before you, saying he loved you, saying he still loved you, saying he’d always loved you and always would love you. And he wanted to marry you.

“Yes.”

Taglist: @pixelcafe-network @minasfwoopyponytail @inkytypewriter @ouiouimochi

[samanddean76]

After almost two years of planning, I finally went to my first Creation Con. And what a joy it was. #ChiCon 2024 was incredible, not only for the onstage twirling of Jared across Jensen's shoulder's, (which I did see and will never forget), but for all of my obsessive planning paying off in the best way possible. Thanks to eBay, Red Bubble, and one dedicated woman at Wayward Plaids, I was prepared to go to the con dressed as Sam. With my jelly bracelets, the purple dog t-shirt, the iconic blue and gray striped shirt, and the brown Puma's (which fit me and I did indeed wear). As I walked up for the first picture, which was J2 with Baby, I went completely non-verbal, which was slightly problematic as I needed to at least be able to say hello to them. But one of the fellow con goers had suggested I take the shoe off and have it in my hand, which I did. And Jared, being the incredible human that he is, gave me the biggest smile, took the shoe from me, and remarked that it was the real one. All I could do was smile and nod as words were completely gone. He then commented on both shirts, and as I had apparently forgotten pictures needed to be taken, he turned me around so that I was facing the camera. It was then that I remembered what I had also forgotten to do, and turned to give a huge smile to Jensen, who smiled back, said hi, and I am quite certain I melted a little. They pulled me in for a double one-sided hug, and Chris took the picture. Which turned out better than I had hoped it might. Standing between J2, wearing one shoe, and having one socked foot on display.

The next day, I had the J2 inside photo op, and as I was a little less terrified, I actually managed a few words, or more specifically, a request. I walked up to Jensen and asked if I could please have a double squish hug. The man smiled at me and said, "Sure thing, darlin'." In his amazing soft Texas drawl, and I ended up getting my second amazing photo of the con. While I never would have known without getting the digital copies of the pictures that feature the uncropped versions, I was ever so glad that I had spent the extra ten bucks. Because I was given this incredible gift...

His foot, up on the toes, just tickles me. Plus, the actual squish hug was amazing! Last but not least, was the photo that I had planned everything around. My version of Sam meeting Jared and getting a hug. It was the third time that he had seen me, and I might have stood out a little. I walked up, grinning like a loon, and asked for a hug, please. He said, "I love your outfit, darlin'", and then pulled me in.

For me, this was an amazing highlight. For Jared to have actually seen me. For him to have noticed all that I had done and all the effort I had put forth, it gave me such joy. And while I may never go to another con, the memories from this one will keep me smiling for years to come.