#one breath... need i say anything? what was that

[dollwrites]

ｃｏｎｔｅｎｔ ｔｙｐｅ ┊ v-day weekend blurbs ( caleb )

ｃｏｎｔｅｎｔ ｗａｒｎｉｎｇｓ ┊ smut ( minors dni ), fem!reader, mirror sex, exhibitionism ( filming ), caleb gets rough, size kink, praise kink, stand-fucking, all characters featured are aged 18+

ｉｍｐｏｒｔａｎｔ ┊ i stared at caleb doing one handed pushups for like a minute solid and hit a blinker. here’s the result. please reblog && leave feedback. not proofread so there’s probably mistakes. thanks for reading < 3

“Hey, no moving…” you murmur in a pointed, accusatory tone the very moment you feel Caleb’s hips buck forward. your breath caught in your throat as he does; his cock notching another inch into your silken core none-too gently. “I told you to let me do it.” puffing out your lower lip in a childish pout, you cast a glance over your shoulder, peering up at a grinning Caleb, raising both arms, palms out in mock defeat.

you blinked, needing to pause to look over his countenance. sweat-dampened brown tendrils stuck to his forehead and against his temples and the very edges of his cheeks. speaking of his cheeks, there were violet in hue, with diamonds of perspiration glistening against the apples. his jaw slung, swollen lips parted to accommodate his heavy breathing, you could even see the vein on the side of his neck bulge and throb when you clench up, milking his cock in a warm vice.

“What’s the matter? Do I play too rough for your movie?” he challenged with a smile.

“Always,” you reply, squirming on your feet to welcome in his fresh, thick inch. it took some stirring, and a whole lot of primal pleasure as his heavily veined cock rubbed against your sensitive, spongy walls, to find a comfortable enough position for you to keep going. the hand gripping your phone tightens it, and you look back to the mirror, standing less than six feet from it, to ensure the angle was still perfect. you raise the phone just a quarter of an inch higher, and spread your legs wider. “I want it to be… pretty.” you settled on an almost laughable adjective, but it seemed the most fitting, as you glance up at him from the glass. the two of you lock eyes, and you shudder at the eroticism of it all. you were clad in lacy lingerie ( though, however skewed it may be, it still counted ), your makeup done, and you had chosen the best possible setting and position to ensure that you would be able to review the footage while you railed yourself on his cock— looking into the mirror. but, it wasn’t simply for your own vanity, and you remind him of that as you start to move again, pushing your ass back and forth to take the familiar inches. “You know,” you continue, trying to be as casual as possible as you explain, though your sentence is continuously marred by choking gasps and happy moans, “f—for when you’re away in Skyhaven— shhh—shit! — you’ll have something… ahhh… nice to watch…!”

“Sorry, baby girl,” his words were thick and slurred with the ever-so-subtle etching upwards of his mouth in a crooked grin. “Just couldn’t help myself, wanted to get that cute, lil’ yelp outta you. Won’t happen again, promise.” but even as he drew a cross over his heart, you could still see that twinkle of mischief in his eye. one of your brows quirk up, as if to say: i don’t believe you, and Caleb reads it immediately. with a husky chuckle, he shook his head. “Lil’ thing’s so damn suspicious.” however, he still hooked his arms behind his back in submission. widening his own, already imposing stance, you feel like a worm dangling on his hook between the gap he provided. then, he straightened his back, standing at attention. his biceps bulge, the hard and thick muscle pads of his arms dancing beneath his skin as he flexes them, more for you than anything else. it was a silent reminder of his strength— the power he was willingly giving up to you. “There, that better, baby?” he asked, his gaze softening as it roved over your back. the clasp of your bra was still held together, even though the shoulder straps had been discarded, and the weight of your breast spilled out of the loosened cups, swaying hypnotically with every move you make. still, that clasp taunted him, and he had the sudden and wicked urge to lunge forward and unclip it with his teeth rose to the surface of his resolve. he resigned, however, grinding his teeth together as his eyes followed the shape of your spine downward, instead.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he praised quietly, his brows knit close together. your pace was slow enough to frustrate him beyond measure, a steady rhythm that was a sweetly agonizing form of torture he’d only ever endure for you. “Takin’ my big cock just how you want it,” Caleb let out a low growl. against the small of his back, his fingers twitched and jerked with the desire to grip your hips tight enough to leave their shape imprinted in your skin. he shook away the thought, and clenched his fists tightly. “Fuck yourself on me, baby girl, take whatcha need.. Ah-hah, that tight, little cunny ready for another inch? Because I’m dyin’ to give it to her.” Caleb’s thighs tightened, a dull tingle settling against the base of his spine.

“You’re already so deep,” you whine back, glancing down between your legs. your cunt drooled as you speared yourself on to Caleb, over and over, and you use your free hand to dip between your thighs and scrub at their apex, strumming your swollen clit to the same speed of your riding, mewling in pleasure. “I— I can cum, just like this…” you trail off, your eyeline fluttering back to the phone screen. you could see the contortion of pleasure on your own face, and you had to admit, it was sexy to watch yourself get closer and closer. you had no doubt that Caleb would spend many a lonely night, watching this video over again, gripping his greedy cock and wishing to feel your tight cunt instead.

“Lil’ fucking tease…” he growled into your hair on the crown of your hair. the scent of your shampoo still lingered there, and it made his eyelids flutter. “I need more.”

and just like that, your control of the situation, and of Caleb, dissipated. he sucked in a ragged breath, large hands releasing themselves from their subservient position and grope at your thighs, hooking against the backs of your knees to sweep you off your feet.

“Caleb!” yipping in surprise, your phone slips from your grasp and clatters on the floor between his feet. fortunately, with this new angle, the video captures the visage of you, spread open, and Caleb already rutting like a man possessed into you. his balls, though tight with impending orgasm, are still heavy enough to spank against your clit as he pulls your body down to meet his rabid thrusting. “That’s—!”

with your knees dug into your own chest, your eyes follow the shape of your spread legs, and the mesmerizing, helpless flop of your stocking-clad feet in the air. it felt good, really good, to be fucked so animalistically, to be locked against his powerful body, at the mercy of his whims.

“Just hush up and take it now, baby girl. You’ve had your fun,” Caleb chuckles as he lowers you down to meet the upward pounding, his hips snapping against yours. “— made your cutesy, lil’ video, you got to ride for a lil’ bit, but now you get to just sit pretty and take exactly what I’m gonna give ya.” Caleb pulled you flush to his lap, burying himself balls-deep in your weeping cunt with a happy snarl tearing through his throat. his eyes flick to the mirror, “Look how precious you are, all dolled up, gettin’ ruined, all for me?” your gaze follows his, and your cheeks warm as humility rises within them. he’s right, though. even you couldn’t help but be wooed by your fucked-out state, babbling as he bounces you up and down on his cock. then, Caleb chuckles, a rough and strangled sound in comparison to his usual timbre. his gaze had listed downward, to catch the sight of the camera on the floor, capturing your decimation from a most sordid angle. “Oh, fuck yeah, I’m gonna love watchin’ your puffy, lil’ pussy get stuffed full from this angle.”

[sinstear]

happy valentines 🍫💐💌

vi notices the way you’ve been distant for the last couple of days with her, barely talking to her, glancing in her direction when she practically wraps herself around your body when you’re in the kitchen making breakfast, or doesn’t even let her on your phone. you never had a problem with that before, but that’s suddenly changed. she doesn’t even get a smile from you. at first she assumed you had enough, maybe you didn’t love her anymore, found someone new, someone else to be obsessed and utterly in love with. then she tried to recall the last week, had something happened and you were just figuring it out? did she say something that made you upset? if so, why weren’t you talking to her.

she doesn’t have much time to figure out why, not when there’s an abrupt groan and scuffle at the front door then a loud bang that has her sitting up on the couch, blinking repeatedly until she can hear you cursing under your breath. “stupid fuckin’ thing,” or something like that. if she didn’t feel so upset over something that had she no idea about, then she would have laughed, ran to help you, but she didn’t, she just sat there in; clad in one of your hoodies and slumped deeper into the couch. 

pathetically, like a lost puppy, she perks up at the sound of your voice again. “vi, baby, are you awake?” 

“yes,” she mumbled back, more like scoffed but you weren’t paying attention. “m’in here.”

“okay, uh, can you close your eyes for a second, please?”

doing as you asked, vi closes her eyes, takes her hands out of her lap and nervously fumbles with her fingers. the sound of you cursing and grumbling got louder yet closer the longer she sits here and waits for you to do whatever it was that you were doing, and it’s only when you stumbled, almost tripping over your own feet, into the living room, you find her slumped there, chewing at her bottom lip and sniffling. “don’t open them, just give me like 2 minutes, don’t peek, i know what you’re like.” you warned playfully.

she has no idea what you’re doing, but her only thought in her mind right now was that you’re breaking up with her, this is it. you’re going through all of this just to tell her you’re not in love with her anymore, that you’ve found someone else, that she doesn’t make you happy and maybe she could handle that, but not when she loves you so much—

“you can open them now.” you murmured exactly 2 minutes later.

when her eyes flutter open, violet finds you standing in the doorway, looking somewhat nervous, the living room covered with dark and light pink balloons, rose petals scattered over the floor, a huge bouquet of red roses sit on the coffee table, accompanied by a big box of chocolates, ones you know she loves, one of those giant teddy bears, looking at her like it was trying to read all her secrets, and a gift bag on her lap. light pink with a card taped to the side. “happy valentines day!” 

“y…you’re not breaking up with me?” is what comes out her mouth first, blinking. taking in the sight before her. had she gotten all her worries wrong?

the question catches you off guard and you blinked too, then frowned and shook your head quickly. “no! my god, why would i break up with you?” you rushed over to her and sat beside her before taking her hands into yours. “hey, no, don’t cry, why would i break up with you?”

“you’ve been distant, so i thought—”

“it’s very hard to keep surprises from you, you know?” you laughed softly and wiped away the tears that ran down her cheek. “but no, m’not breaking up with you, you’re my world, and i love you, so much.”

“i’ve never had valentines before” vi admits sadly. 

“i know, i wanted your first to be special,” you admitted softly and smiled. “if it’s too much, we don’t have to open them yet, we can just leave them until—”

“no! i just, i haven’t gotten you anything yet so,” vi suddenly becomes quiet and fumbles with the gift tag nervously. “m’sorry—”

“i have you, don’t i? that’s all i ever need. if i have you, i don’t need anything else,” you admitted and kissed her temple. “it’s your first valentines, it’s not about me, it’s about you, and i want you to know how much i love you, and how much you mean to me. even if there is a creepy teddy bear looking at me.”

vi giggles and wipes away her tears, a blush creeping up on her face. “how did you even get that in here?”

“i carried that thing up 7 flights of stairs, it was a struggle, i admit.”

looking up at you, vi smiles shyly and is quick to bury her face in the crook of your neck. “thank you,” she sniffled and gripped your arm tightly. “i love you so much.”

“i love you more, baby,” you smiled and kissed the top of her head. “how about we make breakfast, take a walk, and when we’ll sit down and you can open your gifts? when you’re not as overwhelmed?”

“i’d like that, but that teddy needs to be turned around, as much as i love it, it’s creeping me out”

“agreed. remind me to not bring it into the bedroom tonight.”

[prettygirl-gabi]

Special Guest

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Reader

POV: First-person

Fandom: UConn’s Women’s Basketball

Word Count: 1,500+

Summary: we have a special guest for the podcast

Tags: @paigeshirleytemple , @unknowngirlypop , @paigeluvvr , @melpthatsme , @authentic-girl03 , @lessi-lover , @courtsidewithlani

I adjust my mic and glance at Kayla, who’s lounging comfortably against my pillows, setting up her recording equipment.

“So, let me get this straight,” I start, tilting my head at her. “You, Kayla Williams, decided that my dorm—my bed, specifically—was the best place to record this episode?”

Kayla smirks. “You act like this isn’t the most comfortable setup ever. It’s cozy, it’s intimate, it’s giving vibes. Plus, do you really think I was about to record in one of those stiff chairs in the common room? Be so for real.”

I shake my head, laughing. “You just didn’t wanna book a studio.”

“Correct.” She grins, popping a piece of gum into her mouth. “Now, get comfy, and let’s start—”

Before she can finish, my dorm door swings open, and in walks Paige.

Scratch that—drags herself in.

She looks exhausted, still in her practice gear, her low ponytail a little frizzy from sweat, and her duffle bag barely hanging onto her shoulder. She doesn’t say anything, just lets out a deep sigh and makes a beeline for my bed.

“Uh, hey?” I say, watching as she tosses her bag to the floor, taking her ponytail out and flops onto the mattress like she’s been carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders.

Without hesitation, she burrows into me, laying her head directly on my stomach, her arms loosely wrapping around my waist.

I blink down at her. “Paige?”

She hums in response but doesn’t move.

Kayla raises an eyebrow. “Yo, is she good?”

“She had morning practice,” I explain, running a hand through Paige’s locs. “Guess it wiped her out.”

Kayla snickers. “Nah, this is crazy. She didn’t even say hi.”

I poke Paige’s shoulder. “You good, baby?”

Paige nuzzles deeper into me, sighing. “Mhm.”

“Wanna move?”

“No.”

I glance at Kayla, who’s grinning like she’s witnessing something hilarious.

“Oh, she’s whipped,” Kayla says, adjusting her mic. “You sure you still wanna record? Your girl looks real comfortable.”

I glance down at Paige, who’s already breathing slower, her body completely relaxed against mine.

“She’ll be fine,” I say, settling back into the pillows. “If she’s tired enough to fall asleep while we talk for an hour, she probably needs the rest.”

Kayla shakes her head, still smirking. “Alright, your relationship is crazy soft, but let’s get into it.”

She presses record, and just like that, we start the episode.

—

Thirty minutes in, Paige hasn’t moved an inch.

She’s completely knocked out, her breath warm against my hoodie, her arms still lazily wrapped around me. Every now and then, she shifts, sighs, or tightens her grip, but for the most part, she’s dead to the world.

Kayla, of course, is having way too much fun with this.

“Okay, so what I’m gathering,” she says, pointing at Paige’s sleeping form, “is that you got this superstar, face-of-UConn-basketball, Paige Bueckers, so down bad that she literally needs to be on you to function properly?”

I roll my eyes. “She’s just tired.”

Kayla gives me a look. “Nah, see, I’ve known Paige for a while, and I ain’t never seen her like this with anyone else.”

I fight a smile, absentmindedly running my fingers through Paige’s hair. “She likes being close to me. Is that a crime?”

Kayla grins. “Not at all. It’s just hilarious how you try to act all nonchalant about it.” She leans toward the mic dramatically. “Y’all, let it be known that Paige Bueckers is a clingy girlfriend. Possibly the clingiest.”

I chuckle, shaking my head. “She’s not that clingy.”

Kayla gestures at Paige. “Bro. She fell asleep on you mid-podcast. You might as well get her a ‘Property of Y/N’ shirt at this point.”

I bite my lip to keep from laughing. “She does have a hoodie that says ‘Y/N’s Favorite.’”

Kayla howls. “Oh, nah! That’s crazy. Ain’t no way.”

I nod, grinning. “Got it for her last Valentine’s Day.”

Kayla wipes a fake tear. “This is beautiful. True love.”

I shake my head, still smiling as we move on to the next topic.

—

By the time we wrap up the episode, Paige is still dead asleep.

Kayla stretches, cracking her knuckles. “Alright, that’s a wrap. Great episode, and we got bonus content of you being the human equivalent of a teddy bear.”

I snort. “Glad I could provide entertainment.”

Kayla stands, gathering her stuff. “I gotta bounce, but good luck getting your girl off you.” She nudges Paige’s leg. “Yo, Bueckers, you alive?”

Paige groans, barely lifting her head. “Barely.”

Kayla smirks. “Your girl’s free now. You gonna let her move?”

Paige ignores her, instead snuggling back into me, her voice muffled against my hoodie. “No.”

Kayla cackles. “Yeah, I’m outta here.”

She gives me a knowing look before heading for the door. “Text me when you finally escape.”

I roll my eyes. “Bye, Kayla.”

Once she’s gone, I glance down at Paige, brushing a few stray locs out of her face. “You good, sleepyhead?”

Paige hums. “Better now.”

I smile. “You slept through my whole podcast, you know.”

She grins sleepily, eyes still closed. “Best nap I’ve ever had.”

I sigh, shaking my head. “You’re so spoiled.”

She finally cracks one eye open, looking up at me with that soft, lazy smile of hers. “By you? Absolutely.”

I can’t even argue with that. Instead, I kiss her forehead, letting her sink back into me.

She’s gonna be wide awake later, and I should make her get up soon.

But for now?

I let her stay exactly where she is.

---

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

                 -Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

                             -prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

[domm1etae]

Right in Front of You

f!reader x roommate yunho

oneshot | mdni

1.2k

Y/N spends Valentine’s night searching for a hookup, only to come home empty-handed—until she realizes the perfect option was sitting in her apartment all along, proving that sometimes, the best things don’t need to be chased—they’re already waiting for you

nsfw tags under

f/m, vaginal sex, teasting, dirty talk, fingering, doggy style, top yunho, bottom reader, roommates, reader is on BC, roommates to fucking?

author's note: since yesterday was February 14th—aka Valentine’s Day—but i didn’t post anything, i decided to drop a little post-Valentine’s treat ;))

Y/N barely managed to keep her balance as she fumbled with the lock, heels dangling from one hand, bag slipping from the other. She was still in last night’s outfit—nothing too scandalous, but enough to scream I was trying to get laid and failed miserably. Her makeup wasn’t ruined per se, but her eyeliner had smudged just enough to give away that she hadn’t just stepped out looking fresh.

The moment she stumbled into the apartment, Yunho’s laughter rang through the living room. He was perched on the couch, long legs stretched out, nursing a mug of coffee like some judgmental prince.

“Well, good morning,” he drawled, a smirk playing at his lips. “What a sight I have right now.”

Y/N groaned, flipping him off without breaking stride as she tossed her shoes near the door.

“Rough night?” Yunho asked, his tone drenched in amusement.

“Yeah, tell me about it,” she grumbled, finally collapsing onto the couch next to him. “What about you? What did you do?”

Yunho took a slow sip of his coffee before answering. “Me? Oh, nothing crazy. Made dinner, played some games till like 2 AM, then went to bed.” He tilted his head toward her, eyes twinkling. “What about you? Who was the lucky one who took you home?”

Y/N groaned dramatically, draping an arm over her face. “That’s the thing. You’d think that on Valentine’s Day, the club would be filled with hot singles, right? But no. Just couples everywhere—kissing, slow dancing, rubbing their happiness in my face. Not a single man in sight.”

Yunho hummed, setting his mug down on the coffee table. “Huh. Well, I was alone yesterday, you know.”

She peeked at him from under her arm, brows furrowing. “What are you saying, Yunho?”

He turned to her then, closer than before, his gaze no longer teasing but intent. His voice dropped, slow and deliberate.

“If you wanted action,” he murmured, “you didn’t have to go to some stupid club.”

Y/N’s breath hitched as Yunho leaned in, close enough for her to catch the faint scent of coffee and whatever stupidly nice cologne he always wore. His arms rested on the couch, caging her in.

Her lips parted slightly, a mix of confusion and anticipation making her pulse spike. “You—what?”

Yunho scoffed, tilting his head at her like she was the dumbest person he’d ever met. “You’re actually so blind, Y/N,” he muttered, voice thick with amusement but something else too—something darker, something hungry. “You had the easiest opportunity to get laid right in front of you this whole time.”

His fingers trailed up her thigh, just barely skimming the fabric of her dress, and Y/N felt her brain short-circuit.

Looping her fingers behind his waistband, she tugged him even closer, their lips a hair’s breadth apart. “If that’s true, then maybe you should do something about it,” she murmured.

Yunho didn’t need to be told twice.

His mouth crashed against hers, hands sliding up to cup her face, thumbs digging in just enough to make her gasp. That was all the opening he needed, tongue slipping past her lips as he pressed his body flush against hers.

Heat coiled low in her stomach as Yunho’s hands abandoned her face in favor of something much more sinful—one slipping under her dress, the other palming her breast as he deepened the kiss, tilting her head just the way he wanted.

Y/N moaned into his mouth, fingers fumbling at his shirt, nails dragging over his abs before slipping beneath the waistband of his sweats.

“Fuck,” Yunho growled against her lips, his breath coming out shaky. “You’re really desperate, huh?”

Y/N had half a mind to be embarrassed, but then Yunho was pushing her dress up around her waist and dragging her panties down her thighs, and any rational thought she had completely dissolved.

He let out a low groan, fingers sliding through her slick folds, teasing her entrance before slipping one inside. Y/N’s breath stuttered, her back arching at the delicious stretch.

“Shh, keep quiet for now,” he murmured, smirking when she let out a sharp gasp. “We’ll see how long you last before you’re screaming my name.”

Y/N was about to snap back at him, but then he added another finger, curling them just right, and her head hit the back of the couch, a strangled moan ripping from her throat.

Yunho chuckled, working his fingers into her at a pace that was just slow enough to be torturous.

“You’re soaking wet,” he mused, voice dripping with satisfaction. “All that time looking for a one-night stand, and you could’ve just asked me.”

Y/N barely managed to glare at him, her fingers digging into his arms as she rocked against his hand, chasing the friction. “Stop talking and do something.”

Yunho raised a brow, then grinned. “Oh, you’re gonna regret saying that.”

In one swift motion, he withdrew his fingers and flipped her over, pressing her chest against the couch as he yanked her hips up. Y/N gasped, arching into him as he shoved his sweats and boxers down just enough to free himself.

She turned her head slightly, eyes widening as she caught sight of his cock—thick, flushed, and already dripping at the tip.

“Oh, fuck me,” she breathed.

“That’s the plan,” Yunho smirked, dragging the head of his cock through her slick folds before teasing her entrance.

And then he pushed in.

A broken moan ripped from Y/N’s throat as he sank into her, inch by inch, stretching her out in a way that had her thighs trembling.

Yunho let out a shuddering breath, his grip on her hips tightening. “Fuck, you’re tight,” he hissed. “You feel even better than I thought you would.”

Y/N barely had time to process that statement before he snapped his hips forward, burying himself to the hilt.

She choked on a gasp, back arching, hands scrambling for purchase against the couch.

“Oh my God—”

“Yeah?” Yunho groaned, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in. “Go on, baby. Let me hear who’s making you feel this good.”

Y/N squeezed her eyes shut, nails digging into the cushions. “Fuck, Yunho! You!”

He growled at that, fingers tangling in her hair as he yanked her head back slightly. “That’s right,” he murmured against her ear before biting down on her shoulder, setting a pace that had her body rocking against the couch.

Y/N felt like she was burning, pleasure coiling in her stomach as his thrusts grew rougher, more desperate.

“I can feel you squeezing me,” Yunho groaned, his hand sliding around to rub tight circles against her clit. “You gonna cum for me, baby?”

Y/N nodded frantically, barely able to form words. “Y-Yeah, fuck, Yunho—”

Her body tensed, pleasure exploding through her as she came with a cry, trembling beneath him. Yunho followed soon after, spilling deep inside her with a groan, his body slumping against hers.

For a moment, all she could hear was their ragged breathing.

“So... you wanna tell me that all this time I could’ve been getting the best dick ever, and instead I’ve been suffering in silence?”

Yunho chuckled against her skin. “Well, I guess we have time to make up for that.”

[cheralith]

my serendipity ₊˚⊹♡

— promise yourself to him, and he'll love you forever tenfold. or... the blue lock boys and their proposals to you.

starring ; isagi yoichi, bachira meguru, itoshi rin, shidou ryusei, michael kaiser content warnings ; gn!reader, reader wears a skirt (bachira), cursing (shidou/kaiser), reader wears a dress and heels (kaiser), lowk ooc shidou, mildly ooc kaiser, not fully edited as of 02/15 a/n ; happy late valentine's day everyone and a happy birthday to me hehe! i hope i'm not late by a mere day, but this is both my valentine's day event and my birthday gift from me to you all, so i hope that alongside this, you're surrounded by nothing but tender loving care amidst the season of love ( •◡-)-♡! there's also a collection of some of my favorite love songs i've added under each of the names that i think fit them/their scene, so take a listen for a more immersive experience, so enjoy!

— love, isagi yoichi.

The freshness of the meadow's air was an atmosphere you think you can breathe in forever, for it was so much more pristine and clear than the air you were used to in the city. The setting sun overviews the seaside town that you and your boyfriend took the pleasure of visiting as a treat for you both since he was currently off season and you decided to make the most out of what you could do. It was a scene straight out of a painting, you think to yourself, as yellows and oranges paint the sky overhead, a sliver of iris beginning to take over as twilight sets.

The little town below you hustles and bustles about, its townspeople fluttering over to wrap up the seemingly mundane day. You're a little envious that they get to see such a beautiful sight like this everyday and get to breathe in fresh air without the mayhem of cars and salarymen scattering themselves. Closing your eyes, you take in the cooling spring air of the meadow, letting yourself linger amidst the peaceful atmosphere of the countryside.

You'll miss this. The peace and placidity of a place like this. You dream of retiring to a cottage somewhere similar to here, somewhere where the grass is greener and the sky is bluer. You think it'd do you some good.

"I think some wine would pair well with your daydreaming," a voice says playfully.

Opening your eyes, you see your companion holding a bottle of wine in his hands, gentle eyes softening at your serenity. Yoichi is glad he brought you here, knowing that you needed a break from city life to just simply get away to the tranquility of the countryside. The change in you was more than evident—the stiffness in your body was long gone upon arrival and you were much more laxed when it came to last minute changes on the itinerary. It was rare he saw this side of you, so he savored it with every moment he was able to get.

Smiling gently at your boyfriend, you nod and let him pour two glasses of white wine into the glasses you and him had brought for this picnic.

"How're the sandwiches?" Yoichi asks, handing you your glass. "I bought them at this local diner nearby the hotel, so I hope they're okay."

"I really was never much of a bologna fan until now," you say as you pick up your half-eaten sandwich and hold it out for him to take a nibble. "It's a little salty, but I like it."

"I'm glad," he affirms through chews before he hums in approval. "Did you try the charcuterie board yet? This place is known for their cheeses."

You shake your head. Yoichi grins and eagerly begins to throw together a cheese-and-cracker creation, topped off with a bit of crumbled nuts. He gently cups his hand underneath the one holding the stack and motions for you to come forward.

Biting gently and letting his hand catch the crumbs, you giggle when you thoughtfully chew on the combinations as Yoichi throws the extra crumbs in his mouth to not let anything go to waste.

"Hey! This was pricey," he claims, "I'm sure half a cracker cost one hundred yen each..."

You fight the urge to spit out your food at his exaggeration. Yoichi may be a world class soccer player, with the mere mention of his name lighting peoples' faces with pride as the ace of one of Japan's soccer teams, but despite his hefty salary, there was still that semi-frugal middle class boy who still debated in buying a yogurt drink or ice cream whenever you and him stopped by a convenience store—never mind the fact that he could buy fifty of each in one sitting.

His humbleness, however, is what made you so drawn to him in the first place. He knew, you knew, and everyone knew of his great skill and play on the field, but in interviews, he was always one to scratch his neck and say "I just did what I could, really..." post-games. Yoichi never let the fame get to his head, and his ability to stay so grounded to earth made you filled with love solely for him and him alone.

The mix of the sweetness of the cheese and the saltiness of the cracker blend beautifully together on your tongue. You mimic his actions from before and give a hum and nod with approval at your boyfriend's taste.

There's a few other assortments of food that you and him have collected prior to the picnic—some fresh fruit you had bought and cut from the farmer's market, a small pasta bowl made by Yoichi himself, little quiches you had grabbed from one of the bakeries, and a strange white box that peeks itself out of the picnic basket that you have yet to open that was brought by Yoichi.

Gently clinking your glasses together, the wine that goes down your throat feels just as mellow as the atmosphere that hugs you and your boyfriend. Everything feels just so perfect right now, you could bathe yourself in such contentment.

Some conversations float by between you and Yoichi, breezy and effortless for sometime as the sun slowly sets itself into the mountains. Talks about work, about his recent plays (you laugh out loud whenever his anger gets the best of him and a short fuse of cusses spit out from him when he talks about specific players' plays, throwing a stray at one of his teammates), about the latest gossips, everything that just comes naturally to you. There was no need for a filter whenever Yoichi was with you. His judgement barely shone through when you were around.

He finishes the last of his wine rather quickly. Yoichi places it down gently and grabs your hands in his own. "I have a surprise for you."

A brow raises as your lips curl. "Oh?"

"Wait here, yeah?" Yoichi asks as grabs the picnic basket and places it in front of you. "I have to go grab something from the car. Why don't you prepare the cake in the meantime, hm? Maybe do some cleanup with the food, too, since it's getting late."

"Oh so that's what's inside the box," you murmur.

"Uh huh, I had it specially made for us," he says with a pinch of excitement in his voice. Yoichi gathers up a few of the plates and juts them in your hands, a wobbly smile upon his face as he gets up and dusts himself off, beginning to jog off in the direction of the parking lot. "I'll be right back!"

You blink at his hastiness, a little out of character for him, but shrug as you return back to your original position facing the coastal town and sunset. You're glad he tasked you with cleaning up the leftovers, since you've grown accustomed to Yoichi's occasional messiness and clumsiness when it came to handling food. There was one time during a friend's dinner party that he dropped the pot roast in front of everyone, meat going everywhere to Bachira's delight and to Barou's disdain. You also grow a little weary whenever he's around ceramic, since he's broken quite a few bowls and plates without much effort since Yoichi doesn't seem to have a grasp of his own strength whenever he washes the dishes.

You shake your head at the memories, quietly laughing to yourself when you remember Barou forcing him to mop his apartment floor from the remnants of the meat as a punishment. Barou still invites you over to his house during group events, but you often have to plead with him to invite your boyfriend, now used to the pulled face he makes or the curse of "Is the donkey really necessary to bring?" through the phone.

Tenderly, you open the picnic basket and carefully take out the white cake box to put it on the blanket. You go to prepare two plates together for the cake and take the cake cutter out of the basket, ready for slicing. Your fingers gently tug at the delicate silk ribbon right before you open the lid.

Your heart skips a beat.

It's a simple white vanilla cake shaped into a heart. Its framed with pale pink frosting on its side, as well as a couple of chocolate-covered strawberries placed in some places of the framing. But it's not the design of the cake that captures you.

It's what's written on it.

Four words written in delicate cursive so clearly and distinctly that it's hard to miss.

Will you marry me?

Your breath hitches as you read it with glazed eyes, your head whipping around to call Yoichi over, thinking perhaps he grabbed the wrong cake by accident from the cake shop, but your doubts suddenly dissipate when you're faced with Yoichi on one knee before you...

... with a velvet box in hand, a glimmering ring ready for you tucked carefully within it.

Words falter, and you can only stare at him in astonishment as he smiles at you, his lips still a little crooked in apprehension.

He bites his lip, grin growing a little wider as tears brim your eyes.

"Well?"

— with all my heart, bachira meguru.

"Meguru, that's cheating!"

"Since when where there rules to tag?!"

You huff in annoyance as your boyfriend hops off the railing of the staircase he just slid down from as his hand grazed your back to indicate you were "it" again.

You can feel some of the stares of the security guards that were left to babysit you and him as you dash your way down the staircase to chase after your boyfriend through the empty halls of the museum he had cleared out for you and him this evening. That's one of the many pros of being a professional soccer player—that anything can be bent at someone's will with a mere slide of stacks of cash. And Meguru had decided to use his own gain to entertain you and him.

By playing a game of tag between the two of you in amidst the massive art museum.

He claimed it was the perfect foundation for it; pillars to hide behind, a maze of rooms to obscure the tail that one may have on another, wide halls to run around in. For Bachira Meguru, this was the perfect battleground besides the turf of a soccer field. You suppose it also came from his early love of art due to his mother being a painter, with some of her collections even being shown for the season in one of the halls.

Anyone else of your ages would think such an activity was foolish. To an extent, yes, they were right. You and Meguru were both adults with adult responsibilities and adult lives... but you only live once and you and him lived by the philosophy to live it to the fullest. Childish whimsies came more often to you and your boyfriend, and that was the gravitational pull that drew you and him together to blossom a relationship filled with surprises and spontaneity. You felt unbelievably alive with him.

He'd call you in the middle of the night, asking you if you want to skinny dip in the nearby beach with him. He'd stop the car in the middle of a busy road as the view of an amusement park came closer, snatching your arm and tugging you out of it to run to its entrance. He'd show up at your door with concert tickets in hand unprompted, jutting one in your hand and telling you to get ready.

Bachira Meguru was a lightening bolt, sparking energy everywhere unsolicited. And you were more than happy to be struck over again and again if it meant you felt alive.

So now you're here. It's near midnight, and you're sure you and him have scattered almost all the interior terrain of the museum he cleared out in your game of tag that he brought up to you yesterday evening out of nowhere, telling you to dress nice, but to wear running shoes.

Meguru poked his head out from behind a wall that lead to the other room, giggling as you whip your head a few times to catch where he went before you spot his bright canary yellow eyes and run after him.

You weave through the plethora of statues that sprinkle about the corridor, sprinting after the flash of brown and yellow hair in front of you. It shouldn't be fair that you're currently chasing down a professional soccer player who clearly has the upper hand, but in all honesty, you think the challenge makes it all the more fun.

Stopping to catch your breath, you hunch down for a bit, gathering your skirt in your hands to reveal the worn-out running shoes you wear that contrast heavily to the outfit you're wearing as you collect your energy.

"Don't tell me you're tired already," Meguru sings out, his voice rather close.

You lift your head up to see your boyfriend standing just a few meters in front of you, leaning on a pillar of a statue with a cocky smile, arms crossed as if this was the easiest thing in the world. There wasn't even a sheen of sweat on his forehead, unlike your misted one. Your chest heaves for a few moments, and he watches anticipatingly as you collect yourself before you take a swipe at him.

Meguru jumps back just in time, laughter ringing out as you gather up your speed and sprint. You manage to turn a corner that's shared with the hallway he had just turned on and take a shortcut, waiting behind the open wall before you jump out and tap his shoulder.

"Gotcha," you grin as he gasps in delight and looks back at you, mischief ever so clear in his face.

You attempt to muffle your many fits of giggles when you come up with a plan to try and escape him. There's two choices that unfold before you—either you can run up the flight of stairs into the Greek artifacts or you can enter into the inner garden.

With not much time left, you can hear his quickening footsteps growing louder and louder, and you go for the latter.

Your feet carry you into the dark garden, making you squint your eyes to get a proper view of where you're going, but you see a sheen of light the closer you get to the center of it. Deciding that might be where the common area is, you quickly dart towards it but gasp when the entirety of it comes into full view.

Candles light up the middle area of the garden with rose petals sprinkled about the ground. A large balloon arch of white and gold arcs over what seems to be small semi-circle of little flower bouquets with a small white rug placed delicately in the middle of it all. There's two words that spell themselves out in blocky letter lights.

MARRY ME?

It takes you awhile to register the scene before you, your heart thrumming faster and faster each time you scan it.

"Aw man, you found it too early..." Meguru's voice sulks from behind you.

Whipping your head around, you yelp at your boyfriend's sudden appearance, making him grin. You think you need to take a pause from all the excitement you've been absorbed in for the past few hours, a new one being blossomed at this very moment.

There truly was never a dull moment with Bachira Meguru.

Wordlessly, his smile turns less playful and more tender when you can't find the words to say. He takes your hand in his own grasp and gently leads you to the scene before you, getting down on one knee and pulling out a small box from his back pocket.

"(L/N) (Y/N)," Meguru starts slowly, his voice displaying the utmost sincerety he's able to muster and possibly the most serious you've ever seen him. "Will you do me the honor of marrying me and being with me for the rest of our lives?"

With someone as special and as enigmatic as Meguru, it really doesn't take you much debating to choose your answer. Someone like this only comes once in a lifetime, and you decide to cherish it as much as you can in this one.

You only live once after all.

You nod, whispering a "Yes..."

Meguru's smile stretches wide before he shouts out in happiness, jumping in the air. You laugh loudly at his antics before he plucks out the ring and puts it on your finger, letting you admire it before sharing a loving kiss. The security guards that oversee the garden let out claps of celebration and a couple of shouts of approval, making you and him laugh at the accidental audience.

Meguru goes to wipe away a fallen tear from your cheek before kissing your forehead gently. He suddenly goes near your ear and whispers,

"This still means you're 'it', by the way."

— sincerely yours, itoshi rin.

Rin always thought he was meant to be alone.

His own parents tended more of their attention to Sae, and Sae himself left Rin to his own devices when Rin was only eleven, just barely hatching into puberty. Much of life Rin had to learn the harder way, where he had no forewarnings from anyone and he had to be taught his own lessons. It was his own self-discipline that got him through much of his younger years that made him so sustainable solely by his own foundations.

Even during games, he tended to lean on his own instincts on what he thought was best rather than relying on his teammates for the best play possible. If it were legible, Rin would've taken an opportunity to play 1v11 in a match since he carried the majority of his teams anyway with his prodigal skills.

He thrived best in an isolated environment anyway. And Rin felt okay with it. No person is forever anyways, not even his own blood.

Until you came along.

It was in his second year during college. It was you and your stupid owl keychain on your stupid backpack that accidentally let out your stupid second volume of Ciguatera right in front of him. It was the stupid way how his hands lingered on the book just a little more than he should've. It was the stupid way that his eyes always gravitated to you during lectures. It was the stupid way that you and him were assigned as partners for a project. It was the stupid way your eyes lit up when you found out he played soccer.

It was the stupid way he felt able to breathe the air much more comfortable around you the more he spent time with you. It was the stupid way the days felt duller when he didn't see you on campus. It was the stupid way his heart fluttered when you laughed, when you smiled, when you said his name.

It was all so... stupid.

A feeling he never felt before had been born from your existence. Itoshi Rin usually had a pretty solid grasp on things he could control, but he didn't know how to handle such a feeling of affection because he hadn't ever felt it before, and it felt too slippery to try and get a firm grip of. You shook his core, and Rin hated it because only one other person in his life was able to do such a thing.

Learning it was best to do so after his last lesson to keep himself safe, he attempted to push you away before his heart broke a second time. Yet somehow, Rin felt more drawn to your pull every time he tried to create space between you and him.

They say that distance makes the heart grow fonder. Rin never really gave the feeling such thought in regards to you until he found himself dismal and in a grey area again without seeing your face at least once, but still ever so stubborn, he thought this was best. This is what he was used to—being alone.

"I don't have time for you anymore," he said to you one evening as he dropped you off at your dorm.

You had turned back to him with the saddest eyes he'd ever seen, but with a small smile still on your face. Without asking for a reason, you merely nodded. "I see. Well... goodbye then."

Rin tried to ignore the way his heart had clenched so tightly as he watched you disappear into your dorm hall without glancing back at him one more time.

But the lines blurred. It wasn't him being alone that he reclused himself to during your absence from his life... but rather loneliness. He was back to being lonely, not alone.

He had to go back to watching movies by himself, conversing with his own thoughts instead of another voice. He had to go back to eating meals by himself without having a foot nudge his own under a table. He had to go back and stop looking for a specific pair of bright eyes and a wishful smile in the stands during games.

He went back to a world of grey of his doing. All because he was terrified to let another person handle his own heart. And he was doing a good job at altering his life back to the way it was, until you did what you usually did best and butt in and splash color all over his monochromatic canvas again.

It was before an away game, in the common-area just before he boarded the coach bus. There, just before you turned the corner, he spotted you saying goodbye to someone, where you had accidentally made eye contact with turquoise eyes that seemed to shine for the first time in a long time at your appearance before him. He couldn't stop himself from staring, feeling relieved that you were still within his radius despite him being the one to create space.

You lingered there for a moment, before swallowing and mouthing to him with that stupid gentle, forgiving smile of yours,

"Good luck. Do well."

Rin sprinted off the bus the moment they were back on campus after winning by a landslide due to his off-the-wall playing. His feet carried him to your dorm, where he rapidly knocked on your door despite it being near midnight. You opened the door to him and despite hating it when people touched him, Rin had held you so tightly with hitched breaths, whispering "I'm sorry..." over and over again into your ear.

And came Itoshi Rin's first love, blossomed on a random Friday night.

His only love at that. He can't imagine the ring in his pocket being for anyone else.

A couple years older now, he walks alongside you on the beach that he used to ponder about whatnot on as he listens to you talk about the latest gossip at work. This is the rhythm of how your dynamic usually works—you talk, Rin listens. He likes it that way. It's an adequate balance.

The air is cooling now, now that autumn is approaching. You're huddled in a light jacket (Rin's, respectively), and gently warm your hands by rubbing them together to let the created friction emit some heat. Rin wordlessly grabs your hands and cups them together, embellishing a better warmth from his own breath instead of letting you do your own work.

Your eyes soften as you let him do his own antics, his own gaze coming to meet yours as his hands envelope yours and clasps them tightly to keep the heat trapped in your skin.

"Is that better?" he asks quietly, eyes looking for any sign of your approval.

You nod contently. "Mm hm."

"I told you to dress warm," he says, sighing, "next time, bring gloves."

You know Rin long enough to know such a tone of phrase isn't necessarily scolding you, but rather cautioning you out of genuine care. It wasn't his fault his voice had a natural cutting-edge tone, but you've grown accustomed to the little bits of adjustments he does to indicate he's not being cold.

The soft sand feels more pliable than usual. Perhaps it was the heavier layers you wear, but you find yourself sinking into it more easily. Rin helps stabilize you by gripping your hand in his own, noticing your imbalance.

"It's just a little further," he murmurs softly, a little shy when he squeezes your hand in his jacket pocket.

He was never able to quite fully get over his fluster around you. You made his head fill with cotton, his heart pound a little harder, whenever you were within his vicinity. Even after six years of being together as an official couple, he never was able to fully get over that high school crush feeling. Maybe that's a good thing, though. Maybe it was meant to be that way. It was probably life's way of telling him that you were made to last for him, as only you were able to emit such a feeling for him when no one else could.

They say the average relationship lasts two years and three months. Yet somehow, Rin has never gotten over the feeling of falling in love with you since the moment he spotted you for the first time during a home game. It's been six years and ten months since that incident, and he figures that if such a feeling hasn't expired yet, it might never will.

The trail of candles suddenly appear before you to your surprise. The sand trail that it frames is the only part of the beach that is untouched by feet, as though it was waiting for you to imprint on it. On the other side of the trail lies a half-circular structure of individual white roses, all standing up right from the sand, along with blanket and a basket of wine and chocolates.

"Oh my," you mumble quietly, clearly taken aback at the rather romantic scene. While your boyfriend always did the most when it came to your dates, this was another level of sentimental. Be it the isolation from other people on the beach or the sunset horizon in the background, you feel a wave of solitude when Rin trails you down the path.

"This is rather new," you say to him suddenly, your eyes wide with worry. "Um, I didn't forget something big, did I? We celebrated your birthday... our anniversary isn't for another month..." you count down all the possible major events that you and Rin celebrated together as a couple on your fingers, but Rin shakes his head.

"No," he interjects. "This... i-is something completely different."

You blink owlishly and tilt your head, leaning your face closer to examine your boyfriend's blushed cheeks.

"Oh, are you proposing?" you ask inquisitively with a sparking coy smile, as if it was the plainest thing in the world.

Rin tends to be rather flat with his emotions, but he can't help but gawk when you guess correctly. He supposes his reaction gives his plans away, since you burst out laughing when a choked noise comes out of his throat.

"So I'm correct?" you ask through giggles.

"How'd you know?!" Rin asks, his blush now spreading rapidly on his face, the back of his neck absolutely burning with heat. Upset that all the plans he kept repeating to himself for the entire last three days was suddenly disrupted by you picking up context clues, he feels his ego crumbling before you, going back to square one where he'd feel that familiar flutter in his chest.

"Meguru told me a week ago when we all went to that one bar," you mention. "He had a little too much to drink and ended up accidentally spilling the beans."

A vein pops on Rin's forehead with avid irritation, jaw gritting as the phantom of a familiar bob-cut throws a peace sign in his mind. This is what's bound to happen when Rin asks for help on a major life event from the one person that can't keep his mouth shut even with a gun to his temple. But Bachira was the only person in the friend group that had been married so far to who was essentially his twin flame, meaning he was ultimately the last resort.

Rin thinks that he should've just asked someone on the street instead, now that it's clear his decision went awry.

Stupid shitty, fucking lukewarm bob-cut... Rin curses in his mind, a fire burning behind his eyes. Next time I see him, I'll—

"My answer is 'yes', by the way, Rin."

Rin's violent daydreams are suddenly broken when your voice cuts through. Your sweet, supple voice that's able to calm him down just by the sound of his name falling from his lips. Your superpower, he thinks.

He suddenly loosens his fist that he was making in his hand and looks at you. Clear, smiling eyes gaze at his wide ones with affirmation so distinctly held within them. All the tension he had been feeling up until this very moment instantaneously dissolves, running through his now-loosened fist like sand from the beach you and him are posted on.

He wants to grab your face and kiss you with as much strength he can muster. Wants to whisper sweet nothings and loving promises into lips he's tasted over and over again, yet just can't get enough of. Wants to hold you so tightly in his arms to the point where you meld into each other.

But, nevertheless, he holds himself back. There's still something he has to do.

"At least let me say the damn thing first," he mutters and finally gets down on one knee, his gaze never faltering against yours.

You giggle, nodding and letting him take one of your hands as his unoccupied one goes to fetch the ring box from his back pocket.

Rin was, and still is, not a man of many words. He says what he needs to say the moment he needs to say them. He feels as though he can't waste his time on incessant words, but this time, he feels as though four words can carry all the meaning he needs to convey.

He swallows thickly, presenting a luscious, glimmering ring at you, noticing the way your eyes become hypnotized with the specialized gem settled in the middle of the band.

"(Y/N)," Rin states, smoothing over your precious ring finger. "Will you marry me?

— forever yours, shidou ryusei.

"Ryu, you're gonna get another ticket!" you yell out through the helmet as the motorcycle's speedometer's needle rapidly ticks up. Your arms wrap securely around his waist as he laughs off your concern, his grip on the handles tightening when he squeezes the throttle grip.

You know Ryusei loves to live life to its fullest—its the core of his way of living life. He's irrational and explosive, impulsive and eccentric. Anything that makes him tick is what captures his full attention.

Unfortunately for you, your complete opposite behaviors is uniquely what made him so magnetized by you. Unlike Ryusei, who tends to stand out wildly in a crowd, be it his unconventional haircut or his obnoxious thoughts that he just can't keep to himself, you're demure and quiet. You keep to yourself at all times and you think that you're quite plain-looking. You don't sport wild hair or scattered piercings, nor do you remove your filter and say what you want to say, so you don't understand how someone like you have a spotlight in Ryusei's mind.

But you do, somehow. And you don't think that he's too intent on shifting it to anyone else soon.

So now you're here. It's eleven at night with an near-empty highway before you, backpacking your boyfriend that your parents heavily disapprove of in the middle of the night because he snatched you up from your apartment and told you to follow him. He tossed you his spare helmet for his motorcycle and off you and him drove into the night.

You should've known better, you really should've, considering it was Ryusei after all that you were dealing with. He'll do anything that his mind tells him to without thinking of the consequences. You can't think of another person in the world who has little to no judgement about his actions.

"Don't worry 'bout it, dolly!" he guffaws from his helmet. He lurches forward and you squeal when the motorcycle's speed suddenly jumps. "You know I'd never hurt ya!"

You very much want to protest against his claim, considering he's forced you to tag along with extreme experiences that have put you scraping at Death's door, but every time, Ryusei always tugs you back to reality, to him. Because your his before anyone else's, even the Reaper himself.

"Where are we even going?!" you ask out loud, trying to leer over his shoulder for any sort of familiar direction. To no avail, you're only met with the empty road of the highway, only lit by the streetlights. "I have a meeting really early tomorrow!"

"Fuck your meeting!" Ryusei hollers, giving another one of those joker-like laughs. "Fuck your job in general, but fuck your meeting specifically!"

You know Ryusei's hatred for your corporate job. Blame it on him hating the mundane or how you rant to him about your trashy bosses, he keeps telling you to ditch the position over and over again, even asking you if you quit every time you bring it up. You know that it's just him trying to be a good boyfriend, but when you try to bring up the fact that the job market for your skills is trash, he only shrugs and just tells you why even bother with working. His salary as a soccer player is more than enough to cover you and him.

"That doesn't answer my question!" you shout back through the loud roaring of the motorcycle's engine. "Where are we going?!"

"You'll see! You need to trust me!" he yells from over his shoulder. You can see those rows of menacing pearly whites from the shaded visor and your stomach stirs a little. From excitement or anxiety, that was up to fate to decide. You've placed your trust in Ryusei's hands a plethora of time and you still haven't gotten a good grasp of its pattern of consequences.

You merely sigh in defeat, placing your chin on his shoulder and placing your whims at his hands, letting him take reign of your late-night journey.

From a desolate parking lot, he introduces you to a lone hill, where a wooden staircase at the bottom of it waits for you and him to carry you to the top of it. It's rather a rough journey, with you counting a total of eleven flights of stairs that you have to take up in the dead of night where you were wringed out of all the energy you had from the day. Ryusei wastes no time, leaping through the first three with no problem. He waits for you as you heave through them at your own pace, your legs already starting to turn numb.

"Took you long enough," Ryusei remarks, not even waiting for a reply from you before he begins to climb another three.

By the time you've reached the sixth flight, he's already done with all of them to your discontent. He calls for you to hurry up from atop the stairs and you flicker back a frustrated middle finger back at him, to which he only answers back with an obnoxious laugh.

"Oop, watch your step, doll," he cautions as he catches you last minute before you face-plant on the floor when you trip on your last stair, your legs shaky from the exhaustion. "What took you so long?" he asks tauntingly.

You shove him off of you, deciding it was better to lean on a tree. "Screw you..."

"Mmh, you can do that later, if you'd like," he murmurs flirtatiously in your ear, laughing viciously as you swat at him. He lets you catch your breath before tugging at your sleeve and telling you to hurry. "Your surprise is waiting, c'mon."

Leave it to Shidou Ryusei to plan something spontaneous in the dead of the night. It was unfortunately very like him to do something as erratic as this, and you just hope whatever he has in store doesn't involve you facing a near-death experience like the one time he brought you bungee-jumping straight after work.

Yawning, you nod and follow him with fatigued limbs. It takes your tired eyes a little while to adjust to what Ryusei is pointing at, but the heaviness disappears the moment you understand why he brought you here so late.

The hill somehow overviews nearly all of the city and the lights it gleams out into the night. Your breath catches itself in your throat as you take in the glorious sight of the stars in the sky and the array of lights that dance about the city's skyline. The taller skyscrapers in the background loom over the rest of the city like guardians and the cars of the cars make them look like little fairies dancing about.

It's a gorgeous view that you knew you would've never seen if it weren't for the interference in your normally-mundane life that is Shidou Ryusei.

A pair of arms goes to wrap themselves around your waist and bring you closer to a chest. Ryusei settles himself nicely in the divot between your shoulder and neck, inhaling a bit of your leftover perfume. "You like?"

You nod, eyes taking in the breathtaking view in full depth, scanning every inch that your field of vision lets you see. "Yes," you breathe.

"Good," he mutters, "Discovered this place randomly a few weeks ago after a post-celebration. I thought you might like it."

"It's gorgeous, Ryu," you warmly whisper, your heart melting a little at his consideration.

In any frontal aspect, no one would expect the Shidou Ryusei to be in a relationship, let alone be good at handling one. But after being with him for quite awhile, with your third anniversary coming up soon, you found a side to him that would be deemed almost unnatural to the unsuspecting eye. Underneath those layers of brashness, you were able to find a softer side of him, one that'd only be revealed to you and you alone.

Sure, there were times when his usual image would shine through when you were with him, most prominent when there were others around that were eyeing you ("Take a look this way and I'll bust your head in, bud!" he had shouted with a wicked smile to a passerby one time that looked at you with just the slightest bit too much of intent), but behind closed doors, a tenderness revealed itself dedicated for you.

Because in all honesty—Ryusei was a good boyfriend. Audacious and obnoxious, sure, but good. There was a reason why your relationship has lasted this long, after all. He'd come at your beck and call when you needed him most with no questions asked. He'd offer you advice whenever you complained about something, knowing that you didn't really care about sympathy. He always remembered important dates, even the miniscule ones like what date the new season of your favorite show released just so he can watch it with you.

That layer that only you got to see was the prime reason as to why you returned his affection in equal fervor.

You begin to feel his lips peppering a small path up the side of the neck, letting out a brief yelp when you feel his sharp teeth graze the lobe of your ear. You can feel him grin against your skin.

"You wanna elope with me, doll?" he asks suddenly.

Spine stiffening, you look at him from the side of your now-widened eyes. "Huh?"

"You heard me," he shrugs nonchalantly, as if it doesn't bother him. And it probably doesn't, knowing that he'll always have a way out eventually to get what he wants.

"I—" you start, your words suddenly knotting in your throat. "Ryu... that's a big decision."

"Well duh!" he exclaims. "That's the point! We gotta make it dramatic as possible. That's the whole fun of it."

"Are you only asking me to do this just so you can get some weird spark of adrenaline?" you ask, brows furrowing in anticipation.

Ryusei snorts. "You think that lowly of me? Hell no. I wanna marry you, for real. It's just..." For the first time since you've known him... you hear Shidou Ryusei falter. His head hunches a bit, a frown forming itself on his lips.

"Your parents will never approve of me, we both know that," he says, his grip around you tightening as though you'd slip away from him at any moment. "I'd never get their blessing."

Your eyes soften a bit as he stares intently at the view in front of you. The way his voice goes so quiet confirms the genuineness behind his words and you know what he says about your parents is true. Yes, he loves you and yes, he'll be able to provide for you, but when your parents learned about his reputation on the field as a soccer player, they exactly weren't the most pleased to know that your boyfriend was willing to start fights with whoever dared to cross him.

But... despite it all, despite all the headlines and the rumors, Shidou Ryusei was still yours. You still held him close despite all the challenges that came your way just for being at his side. It was that singular layer of himself that he'd unsheathe just for you to let you know that you mattered to him just as much as soccer did. While the questions of why were still left unanswered, since as much as you knew him, Ryusei was still an enigma to you, his actions spoke loud and true. Reckless as he was, at the end of the day, he was so, so good to you.

Sure, you could also get such loving from some plucky nobody on the street, but Ryusei's form of love was different. It was vibrant, avid with colors and explosions of life, you don't think another person could dare paint themselves in the colors of Shidou Ryusei.

You could go about your mundane life. Settle down with someone that was just as enticing as you were, have a family, keep working at your corporate job, retire peacefully...

... but truly, where was the fun in that?

You don't think you can live life in that manner after meeting Ryusei. You don't think you should.

"... are you really serious about this?" you mutter softly. "Do you really intend on marrying me?"

Ryusei cocks a brow, as if you've just asked him if the sky is blue. "No shit I do. You think all those times me screaming 'This one's for you' right before I score a goal were for nothing?"

You sigh with a smile, memories of playbacks of your boyfriend shrieking out your name on the field when the ball lands in the net running through your mind and how you had to hide your face at times in embarrassment when he pointed a painted fingernail in your direction in the VIP section.

"Do you swear you'll treat me well?" you ask as your hand finds its way to his own.

Ryusei interlocks his fingers with yours. "When have I not?"

Your heart squeezes. "And do you swear that you'll love me forever?"

You can just hear the smirk in his voice. Suddenly, he removes his hands and repositions them on your waist, your feet suddenly not being rooted to the ground anymore.

"'Till death to us part, sweetness!" he shouts, twirling you around with his strength.

You yell at him to put you down, fists going to hit his arms as he nears the edge of the fencepost. "Okay, okay, I get it! Ryu, I'll fall—Christ, Ryusei put me down! I'll marry you, just put me down!"

Eventually, he does and his laughter dies down. Suddenly, your cheeks are being squished and your lips meet his in a semi-violent manner, teeth nearly clashing as Ryusei kisses you hard and passionately.

He holds you there for a minute, tasting your lips over and over again with his before he breaks apart from you and gives you a wide grin, smirking at your flustered breathlessness.

"Call off work," he says, giving a wet kiss on your forehead. "We're going ring shopping tomorrow first thing."

— promisingly yours, michael kaiser.

"I hate you."

... is what Kaiser said to you out of the blue one day, completely unprompted. You were standing at the entrance of his apartment, some food for him in hand, your journey to travel to his abode ending on a rather oddly sour note.

Despite the fact that it was him that asked you to come over to "hang out" at his place while he was off-season, Kaiser wanted to push you away, to get you as far away from him as possible. He could no longer stand to look at your face without his gut churning and his head spinning. Similar in the way that he'd watch his opponent score a goal during a high-intensity game, something about your presence made him feel queasy, as though there were a storm brewing up inside of him.

It wasn't always this way, which was the weird part. Or perhaps, for a better wording, wasn't always this intense. You and him had been friends since childhood, after he wandered into your father's bakery with the intent to steal to survive. You had graciously given him some spare bread rolls and told him that you'll see him later, in which his return to your father's bakery had bloomed a friendship. Leave it to the neighborhood baker's kid to befriend even the oddest of children, even the one that had a scrappy jersey and bruised knees with a busted lip that would send warning signs to most children. But no, you had to come in and swoop Kaiser into your life like the saint you were.

The problem is that Kaiser didn't know how a sickening feeling like this developed. Was it when you had baked him a small cake for one of his birthdays? Or perhaps when you started showing up to his soccer games to support him? He didn't know and that's what pissed him off—that he didn't have a definite answer to when this feeling started. He let go of that irritation quickly, however, choosing to dwell on the present and future instead of the past since he knew he couldn't change it even if he did have a framework of when. It wasn't like he could go back into the past and stop this horrid feeling from being born.

It was swiftly replaced instead by an annoyance of some kind. He'd get a tugging feeling at his chest whenever you smiled at him or whenever your hands would brush against his. His head would start to spin whenever you were near him, your perfume mingling in the air. The older you and him grew, the more intense such a feeling became and it became a more avid distraction as the years passed.

Like the time you had been sick and missed out on an extremely important match that would bring him to the German World Cup. He remembers seeing the empty seat he reserved for you and how he kept looking back at it during each play. He'd score a goal in a miraculous play and would whip his head around to see if you witnessed him in such a glory, but then a frustration would stir up within him at the air that lingered in your seat. He remembers being more destructive on the field that day.

Or perhaps the time he had taken you on a trip abroad to New York, just you and him, where amidst all the sparkling billboards, one of his own sponsored by Adidas posted on the Times Tower, Kaiser's handsome face overseeing the business of Times Square. It was hard not to miss, if anything, and he got upset that you only complimented it with a mere "That's so cool!" as though the man standing right next to you wasn't the face for one of the top soccer teams in the world.

Or when poor Ness had to witness him throw a tantrum in his apartment when you texted him that you had to cancel plans since you were going on a date one evening. Plates and glassware were broken, Kaiser's nails going to rip some of the canvases of the paintings that were hung up on the wall.

"A date?! A motherfucking date?! What the hell?!" he had shouted as another plate made contact with the wall, shattering it into pieces. "(Y/N) doesn't go on dates?! What the fuck is this!"

In his fit of fury, thoughts of all kinds had raced through his mind, and Ness had to use all of his strength to make sure Kaiser didn't hunt to the poor soul that you had a date with down. Thankfully, you had called him later that night and asked to go to his place, telling him your date had stood you up.

Ness had never seen Kaiser more serene after he ended the call with you, a content smile on his face despite the destruction around him.

Either way, you made Kaiser's body weaker with just the presence of you around him. And nothing made Kaiser hate himself more than feeling weak, hating how he was reduced that small child on the kitchen counter, staring up helplessly at a monster that he was half-created from. Your very essence made his core tighten and a heat bloom all over his cheeks, something that sickened him.

So he hates you. He hates you unbelievably so much for being able to bring him to his knees so pathetically, begging for your attention and your care. A twisted sense of shame would linger to him whenever he was reminded of your existence—as though you were his kryptonite.

He thinks this is the worse it's ever been—now that you and him are fully grown adults where maturity has blossomed something within you. You look more beautiful than usual lately, Kaiser notices. You're more confident and headstrong, your wit a little quicker. An aura of radiance seems to glimmer from you and you just have this magnetic pull that attracts many people toward your direction.

In a sinister sense, Kaiser wants to keep you all to himself. Wants to keep you trapped in his hold and keep you caged so he can admire you alone, away from prying eyes that might have similar intentions. No one should deserve to have such a beauty in their life, let alone gaze upon it. He's God's chosen emperor, only he should be allowed to have such a pretty, loving thing at his side.

But he can't obviously. You wouldn't be okay with it. And as much as Kaiser takes great pleasure in seeing faces of despair and misery from those he wants to bring down, he doesn't like it when you get upset at him. Loathes it, even, when you disapprove of something he does.

He hates you for making him so vulnerable, for showing him a side of himself that he doesn't want to acknowledge.

You blink blankly at his irritated face, raising a brow at such a statement.

But you nonchalantly shrug, used to Kaiser's peculiar behavior. Surely something from earlier must've pissed him off, which is why you leapt to your feet when he essentially commanded you to come over.

"Whatever man," you sigh, shoving your way through into his apartment without a care in the world. "Tell me something new for a change."

Kaiser opens his mouth to respond, brows furrowed, and ready to tell you to piss off and get the hell out, not wanting to be around you any longer, but words dissolve on his tongue when he watches you whistle a tune and unpack the package of food you bought along the way on the kitchen island. It's an oddly domestic scene.

You hold up a plastic container, its contents making Kaiser's eye grow wider.

"Look," you cheer, opening up and holding a stick of seasoned bread crust. "Even got your favorite!"

He swallows thickly, feeling that weakness come to his knees again when you give that dazzling smile of yours. Call him a masochist, but even though Kaiser hates the way you make him feel like this, he can't help but savor it.

So he's here now. A few years later, on the rooftop of an ancient Parisian building with a white carpet before him as he stands on end of a white carpet. The other side of it, the elevator to the rooftop.

Blue rose petals that mimic the tattoo on his neck scatter the area with a flower arch stretching over the small stage he's on. The Eiffel Tower oversees the entirety of Paris, its lights glowing amidst the evening sky. The breeze is just perfect, Kaiser just hopes everything else will go according to plan as he stares intently at the elevator.

"Ness, it feels a little tight..." you mutter, trying to tug at the blindfold that covers your eyes.

"But you can't see anything, right?" Ness asks as his grip on your shoulders stays firm.

"No, but—"

"Good!" he retorts happily. "Don't worry, we've only got a few more floors to go."

Your lips warble. You feel as though this is somehow a weird murder set up Ness has planned for you, possibly waiting for the right moment to just shove you off the building while you weren't able to see. He always did happen to hold a small grudge against you, after all, since he had to practically fight for Kaiser's attention whereas you got it so naturally.

"Where's Micha?" you ask as the floors continue to ding out from inside of the elevator.

"Somewhere," Ness singsongs out, making the feeling in your gut churn.

You stay quiet, trying to think of an escape plan to get yourself out of this mess, but suddenly you hear the elevator doors shift and feel a cool breeze.

"Watch your step now," he says from behind you, lighting pushing you forward while making sure your heel didn't get caught in the little gap of the elevator and its doors. He promised that Kaiser that everything about tonight had to go right, and if he dared to mess up anything, Kaiser would have his head. So Ness, ten times more attentive than usual, gently leads you out of the elevator and onto the rooftop.

"Where are we?" you ask him, your head turning around rapidly to try and examine your surroundings despite the black blindfold. " Are we outside?"

"Leave us be, Ness," a familiar voice says.

The heavy feeling on your chest suddenly lifts, letting you breathe a little easier now that you know that your life has been spared from Ness's hands. Kaiser's voice, though it may bring impending doom to many, somehow had the ability to ease you and your worries.

Ness goes to unravel the blindfold from your eyes, letting the warm glow of the many candles before you light up your field of vision. He leaves promptly, going back down the elevator and leaving you alone with the blurry figure some meters before you. Your vision clears eventually, and the scene unfurls before you much more vividly.

There stands Kaiser at the end of a magnificent carpet that tells you to come his way, dressed in a dark blue button up and black slacks with matching dress shoes. Ever the handsome fellow, you softly smile at him as you walk slowly down the carpet, never breaking eye contact with him.

It was good to make you wear white for tonight, Kaiser thinks to himself as he gets hypnotized by the way your dress flows behind you. This almost feels like practice to what's to come.

"This doesn't look like a dinner," you say softly as you take Kaiser's hand to help you up the platform.

"No, but it's something much better," he replies, a tightness in his voice that he tries to hide. "I hope."

"You hope?" you repeat, brow raising.

"It's all going to depend on you, so don't ruin it for the both of us," Kaiser grumbles before you snort out a laugh.

Getting a hint of what's to come, you allow him to take your hand and watch as he gets down on one knee before you.

Kaiser strokes the back of your hand with his thumb, bringing it to his lips and kissing it softly, all the while gazing at you.

"You're the only person that's able to bring me to my knees, you know that?" he professes quietly.

You can feel a hitch in your throat when you nod, a heat forming on your cheeks.

Kaiser pauses for a bit before continuing. "I hate you. You know."

"Yes," you sigh gently, thinking about all the times that Kaiser spewed out the words whenever he got annoyed with you. "You make it very aware."

He chuckles, and you can't help but laugh as well.

"But I hate you for a good reason. You make me weak, you make my head spin with every action you do, with every word you say," continues Kaiser eventually. "You know me better than I know myself. And I don't know whether it's been in each other's lives for so long or... or if I just get so vulnerable around you."

You bite your lip in apprehension, trying to regulate your breathing as the words just flow from Kaiser's lips as he pulls out a white ring box from his pocket.

"I want to feel that way around you forever, even if it might kill me," Kaiser declares. He slowly opens the ring box to reveal a handcrafted ring that glimmers with a large sapphire gem in the middle whose blue hue reminds you of someone all the familiar. "I want you to keep making me feel so stupidly small, to keep putting me in my place when I need it. And I want to relish in it forever, just as long as its you. I want you all to myself, because only you, (Y/N) (L/N), can do this to me."

"Micha," you choke out his nickname with a voice just slightly above a whisper. The way he looks at you so dearly makes you want to burst into tears. You don't think anyone else has ever looked in your direction is such an adoring way.

Kaiser takes a deep breath, his nerves easing themselves to a balance as he swallows his concern away, letting himself linger in the moment.

"Will you marry me?" he asks you tenderly.

He thinks that the tears that cascade down your perfect face gives him all the answer he needs, but his heart nearly leaps out of his chest when you whisper back,

"... yes."

a/n ; ITS DONE !!!! oooohhh i'm so tired asdfllksadfk my ass hurts from all the sitting

but hi if you've made it this far! im thinking of making a part two to this with a couple of more characters, but wow i will not lie this took some life out of me lolol but regardless! thank you for reading, reblogs and comments are always noticed and appreciated (っ´ω`c)♡ !!

[httpsserene]

hi can i please send a request for the kink list rating? for franco, oscar, charles, lewis and carlos with begging. also congrats on 3k!

🧽🪣 would you like a complimentary car wash? — send me any five (5) drivers and one (1) kink from this list, and i will rank the drivers in order of who i think is most to least likely to participate/avoid, or love/hate that kink !!! each driver will have a small blurb written xxx

༊࿐ ⊹ ˚. this one is a lil shorter but i think it's actually better quality? don't ask mehow i wrote this in the middle of my 9 am lecture...i'm not proud of that either. happy 3k🤍 lovely !!! tysm for requesting xxx

⌕ 3k v-day celly nav | all 3k requests | main nav | table of contents ↻

𝐦𝐭𝐥 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤 fem!black!reader x cl. 16 | fc. 43 | lh. 44 | cs. 55 | op. 81 cw under the cut.

implied bdsm dynamics. teasing. overstimulation. hinting at the existence of a safeword in carlos'. charles' praise kink. oscar is a lil weird maybe. sir kink for lewis...my fault y'all, i can't help it.

𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭

Franco’s not going to give you what you want until you beg for it. He loves to watch you grow desperate, your voice whiny and eyes watery as he begins to tease you with the faintest brush of his thumb on your clit after he’s been shallowly thrusting two of his fingers within you nowhere near long enough to satisfy himself but for what feels like forever to you. Franco’s aiming to bring you to the point where his name becomes a synonym for please in your thesaurus. The purpose of his teasing behavior is to make you delirious with pleasure when he chooses to give it to you in full force—your orgasms are substantially more satisfying when he makes you earn it.

Carlos thinks there are very few things more attractive than you begging. He finds you endearing as you push at his chest, your voice slurring as you plead for him to give you a break, that you can’t take what he’s giving you. He knows you don’t mean it though, not yet, at least—because while your hands are half-heartedly trying to bat him away, your legs are locked around his waist, keeping him firmly pressed inside of you to disallow him from slipping away. Carlos gathers both of your wrists in one hand, pinning your arms above your head as he continues his deep grinding rhythm, muffling his rumbling groans into the crook of your neck—you know what word to use if you need him to stop. In the meantime, he’ll keep basking under the sound of your overwhelmed begs.

It depends—Charles doesn’t have sex with the intention of having you beg for him most times. Honestly, he prefers to make you forget how to speak during sex, he wants to hear you gasping for breath as he fucks the air out of your lungs. If you are going to say anything, let it satisfy his endless desire for praise. Tell him that he’s doing a good job, that he looks hot with his head between your legs—his praise kink wins over his begging kink any day. Occasionally, there are days where Charles is going to make you ride his thigh and keep you on the edge, your throat will ache from the amount of times you beg for him to let you cum—but, he’s not in the mood for that often.

Oscar doesn’t consider his particular affliction as a begging kink. With him, it’s more of a kink for good manners. It’s not like he’s making you ask his permission to do anything, no—it’s how you stare up at him with deceivingly innocent eyes right before you say, “Can I suck you off, please?” Or, “Oscar, I wanna ride your face, please?” It’s not like any man would deny any of your requests, but it’s how the word please sounds rolling off of your tongue—it has Oscar ready to do anything you ask of him. You think his arousal stemming from politeness fits his personality perfectly; he can only think it’s kind of embarrassing. 

You’re going to be happy with what Lewis gives you. There’s no reason to beg because you know that he has your best interests at heart. Doesn’t he always deliver? You don’t have to worry about what you want because Lewis is going to give you what you need—your focus is to sit pretty while he handles the hard work. Let him eat you out to his heart’s content, let him mold your walls to the shape of his cock through numerous rounds of sex—All he wants to hear from you while he does it is, “Yes, sir,” and, “Thank you, sir.”

𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐭

© httpsserene — do not reupload. photos in header from pinterest. mdni divider by @cafekitsune.

[noodlemoondle]

Promise Me You Won’t Cry Anymore

Zayne x Reader

word count: 800

summary: just a lil blurb about how Zayne reacts to accidentally making you cry

tags: not proof read!!, hurt/comfort, fluff, mentions of medicine. just zayne being a worried doctor really

authors note: hello again guys! ੭ ᐕ)੭*⁾⁾ I fully wrote this on a whim rn in like 10 minutes so pls take that into account lolol. (also it’s another hurt/comfort lolol it’s my fav tag and i don’t have any ideas for anything else) i also wanted this to be like a rlly short blurb but i think im genuinely unable to write anything that isn’t like around 1k words (´；ω；｀) i don’t really have anything else to say besides i hope i get motivation to write one of the million fic ideas i have saved in my notes soon.

as always hope you enjoy!! ✧*。٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و✧*。

Zayne is a strong man. Emotionally strong that is. The countless years he spent both studying and working in the medical field gave him thick skin and it made it difficult for things to truly get to him. It takes a lot for something to hit him in the heart and truly bring him down.

However, the one thing he absolutely can’t stand is you crying. Something about it he doesn’t truly know what. Something about the way your eyes tilt downwards with your head soon following, the small tremble of your lips he knows you’re fighting to keep still, the tear-glazed distant look in your eyes that just shows how hard you’re fighting back tears, nothing breaks his heart more.

Zayne knows, he knows he can be oh so overbearing when it comes to your health and safety, but god he can’t help it. Nothing worries him more than your, in his opinion fragile, wellbeing. Everyday on his drive to the hospital he prays to whatever god is out there that will listen to him that he won’t see you during his shift, at least not you being wheeled in through the back doors, completely unconscious on a gurney. He can’t even handle the thought of it.

It leads to his constant nagging over you. His constant worry. His constant lectures and scoldings whenever you even slightly overlook your health.

Which led to here. Another conversation that began as an overbearing reminder to take your medicine, only for Zayne to quickly discover you haven’t been taking recently. You’ve already had a tiring and stressful day and didn’t have any energy to fight back at him. So instead, you just stood there in front of him. Only looking at him as he continued his scolding on how important it was to take your medicine, why you need it, and never forgetting to remind you of just how fragile you truly are.

All you could do was look back at him, and just take everything he had to say without a fight. Not like you had the energy to speak anyways. To be honest, you didn’t even have the energy to think, or to even listen to him in that matter. All you really heard is just his upset voice, saying what?You’re not really sure, but his tone was enough to make you feel inferior.

Zayne didn’t notice. He honestly couldn’t. He was too caught up in his worries and imagination of what could possibly happen to you to be able to properly see you, but in the middle of his rant he did. He saw the look on your face that absolutely breaks his heart and makes him want to fall to his knees. He saw your head hung low, you fighting your trembling bottom lip, your downcast, distant eyes, that had tears in the brink of flowing through your pretty eyelashes and falling onto those darling cheeks he loves; especially when he sees them rise and round out whenever you smile.

And when he sees it, he stops. Instantly.

There is a quick moment of silence where he hesitates. Where he hears your uneven, haggard breathing and mentally scolds himself, grimacing at his actions.

He takes a few steps over to you and leans down to hold your face in his hands. Lifting it up so he can see you properly, however your eyes don’t follow and remain locked onto your fuzzy-socked feet. His gentle hold, contrasting his previous tone made it so difficult to keep it together. Just as he noticed a tear welling up to fall from your eyes he gently kisses it away before it could reach any further than the corner of your eye.

He softly rubs the apple of your cheek trying to coax you to bring your eyes up to him.

“Look at me… Please?” Zayne says ever so gently.

You knew if you did you wouldn’t be able to hold back your tears anymore, but the soft rub of his thumb brings your eyes up to look back at him. The moment you do, his eyes soften in guilt and regret, a slight frown forming on his lips when he sees your eyes welling up with more tears.

He slightly stands up, just enough to place a soft, delicate kiss on your forehead as he whispers against it.

“I’m sorry.”

Then you can’t hold it anymore. A soft gasp for air leaves your lips as tears begin to flow from your eyes. Zayne slowly pulls you into his chest, holding your head and running his fingers up and down your back in an effort to comfort you. In an effort to get you to forgive him. In an effort to get you to stop.

Guilt spreads throughout his whole body as he listens to your sobs and feels your tears wetting his shirt. He whispers apologies to you, offering soft kisses on the top of your head in between each one.

He’ll make it up to you. He doesn’t know exactly how yet, but he will. He’ll do anything. Whatever it takes to stop the flow of tears and broken sobs. Whatever it takes to see those darling, rosy cheeks rise up with the sweetest, brightest smile he’s ever seen. He’d do it in a heartbeat; because there is nothing, nothing Dr. Zayne can’t stand more than you crying.

[dolche-tejada]

"I don't care about the rest of your lack of comprehension in the medium but don't disrespect DEKU!"

What lack of comprehension ( I spent my time debunking the pile of crap you're writing in my mentions, you haven't wrote a single relevant argument so far.

As for Deku, I don't see why I should respect this fictional character. He's plain as hell, people constantly glaze him for his amazing traits when his showings struggle to keep up, he has no interesting flaws to nuance him as a character and is just a mouthpiece for the shitty themes of this manga, his character arc mostly consists in him learning to use his powers (how fascinating really...) and he utterly failed his main goal at the end out of sheer incompetence.

"wtf!! be mad cus your favourite villain died!!! but don't you dare accuse Deku of being lazy!"

Why ? Because you don't have any solid counter-argument to refute the fact that he stayed on his ass for 8 years without training to keep being a hero ? And that he needed Bakugo to offer him an easy solution on a plate to do something ?

Or is it because you're salty that Deku is indeed so incompetent at being a hero that he didn't even bother thinking about a plan to save Tomura when it was his main goal, and this despite having weeks ahead to think about it ?

Either way, cope harder pal.

"Lazy my foot bro. Bye bro. You spitting nothing actually."

First time someone trash one of your favs ? Don't worry it will be okay, just take a seat and some deep breaths.

"All the long paragraphs just took proof you lack of respect to the author"

Indeed I don't respect Horikoshi as a writer... And so ?

"and the rest of it just to prove you're just a person who spewing nothing."

He said after failing to prove me wrong even once.

"After losing One For All in the My Hero Academia storyline, Deku faces significant challenges."

Source : Trust me bro

"His journey without his quirk is explored in the series, particularly highlighting his determination and ingenuity in adapting to his new circumstances."

What "new circumstances" are you even babbling about, he literally came back to what he was at the start of the story and even said it isn't anything new for him to be quirkless again.

"They demonstrate that strategy, training, and personal growth are crucial. However, Deku's case is unique because his identity and journey have been so closely tied to One For All"

And in practice, how does being a former OFA user could stop Deku to work out to become a fighter like Shinso, Knuckleduster or Nighteye ? Go ahead, I'm curious.

"which fundamentally shifts his path when he loses it."

Lmao seriously ? That's the best you came up with to hide the fact that Deku never even tried to work out to still be a hero ?

Cause without the bs, you're basically saying : B-B-But it must have been really hard for him to lose a power he only had for not even 1/6 of his life, that's why he couldn't learn martial arts for some reason :'(

What a solid argument, I can't argue with that indeed.

"None of them loses quirk and they're birth with the quirk."

And so ? Besides you know that Knuckleduster also used to have a quirk before AFO stole it from him ? Well guess what : It didn't stop him from learning how to fight and being a quirkless vigilante so nope, you're just looking for excuses.

"Deku also train as crazy as them."

To learn how to use his quirks, not to compensate being a regular human like Stein or Nighteye does.

"Wtf bro, use your brain."

Funny you talk about brain, I was precisely about to ask you if you're having a stroke right now ? Because I can't decently believe anyone could write so much shit in a row without suffering from brain damage.

"Deku's struggle post-losing his quirk can be interpreted more as a narrative choice by the author"

Even if it was the case, that doesn't make Deku any less of a lazy ass bum. He lost OFA during the ellipse and immediately gave up on being a hero, until Bakugo came up with a solution Deku wouldn't have waited for if he was nearly as resilient and well-written as you think he is.

"Kohei Horikoshi, to explore themes of identity, resilience, and the essence of what makes a hero"

No argument here either, just random bs to hide the fact that you don't know how to refute my point.

"It's true that Deku relies on technology, but this can also be viewed as a form of adaptation and teamwork, core values in the manga. Didn't Tony Stark relied on his tech as well? What makes a hero? A quirk. No. A sense to help another person, to protect."

Lmao don't even try. Tony doesn't just sit on his ass and stop being a hero when he doesn't have his armor around him, whether in the comics or the movies (Iron-Man 3 is literally about that). It's even one of his most famous quotes in the MCU : "If you're nothing without this suit, then you shouldn't have it"

Well Deku at the end is nothing without his suit/OFA. It's not an opinion, it's not arguable. It's factual. He doesn't just rely on technology, he's entirely dependent of it. Without his suit, he just stand there without doing anything for years while looking passively at his friends living his dream.

"The eight-year time skip where Deku waits for technology to compensate for his lack of a quirk might be critiqued as a plot device to advance other stories or to give Deku a new form of heroism."

Except he does exactly the same thing as before but with an high-tech suit. If Deku really intended to seek for a new form of heroism, he would have declined the suit so no, "he seeks a new form of heroism" my ass.

"It's not necessarily about laziness but about finding a new way to be a hero when the conventional methods are no longer available to him."

Which is outright false as evidenced in my precedent point, just above.

"This development allows for exploration of his character beyond his physical abilities."

Is this development with us in the room ?

"Deku's growth in different aspects, like leadership"

He never showed at any point leadership skills, only teamwork at best but m'kay.

"strategy, and inspiration, rather than just physical prowess."

Inspiration isn't a hero skill. As for strategy, he didn't have any growth in this aspect either since again, he totally gave up being a hero for 8 years straight.

"In summary, while your addled and rude aspect of critique might view Deku's reliance on external help as a sign of laziness, it can also be seen as part of his character development arc"

On one side actual facts, on the other side your headcanons. Damn, I wonder which one carries more weight ?

"showcasing his adaptability, the importance of teamwork, and the broader message that heroism transcends physical power."

Watch out, you still have some bit left at the corner of your mouth.

"The series uses this plot to explore different facets of heroism, which is a central theme in mha."

The story didn't explore crap. Again at the moment Deku lost his quirk, he just stop doing shit for almost a decade despite having options to still be a hero. All the meatriding and headcanons in the world won't change the fact that Deku is fucking lazy and didn't grow up since Chapter 1 where here again, he never even tried to work out to compensate being quirkless and improve his chances to be admitted at UA.

"I'm done with MHA fans that only read and crop panel for their benefits and play the narrative to fit their imagination."

"Don't you never actually comprehend the material in your hands?"

Try at least to score one relevant argument before saying remarks like that, it's hard to take you seriously otherwise.

Well that was shit. Now sorry but if your next reply is as idiotic and dishonest as the previous ones, I will likely just block you. Given how low you set the bar, I won't waste more time and energy refuting your delusions.

You know, I think this ending would have been slightly less of a fucking disappointment if the heroes hadn't been so unfairly favored by Horikoshi compared to the villains. I mean, seriously

Deku destroys every bone in his body multiple times throughout the story and is warned that if he continues, he'll permanently lose the use of his limbs ? Everything's fine, his body's just got used to being reduced to a bloody pulp somehow so there's no consequences for him. In fact even when he literally loses his arms to Shigaraki, he gets them back two minutes later thanks to Eri because guess what ? Her horn still works even when cut off from her body. How convenient.

Gran Torino gets his ribcage obliterated by Shigaraki ? Don't worry guys, he'll survive that despite his old age and injuries, and this to have no particular role in the plot afterwards.

Bakugo dies heroically trying to buy time before Deku arrives ? Lmao, did you really believe it ?? No of course not, Edgeshot just uses his last-minute Deus Ex Machina to save his life at the cost of his own and- Oops nope he's fine too, my bad !

Hawks murders a criminal fleeing for his life in cold-blood ? The best Hori has to offer is him completely free and in charge of the HSPC.

And no, losing his quirk isn't a real consequence for him because not only it literally played a major part in saving the world with Vestige!Hawks raising an insurrection among AFO's quirks, but also because his quirk has always been the element through which people exploited him.

Endeavor abused his family for years and completely destroyed his eldest son ? No jail time and no media backlash for that, the only blame he received was due to the heroes' failure to stop the League during the Raid Arc.

And don't even get me started on this bs about facing hell or whatever for what he's done : He's literally free and wealthy ; he has Rei, Fuyumi, Shoto, his sidekicks and Hawks on his side ; and all the difficulties he's apparently going to suffer are off-screened.

Deku had to sacrifice OFA and his future hero career to save the world ? Guess what, Bakugo invested all his time and money to make him an Iron-Man suit and now he can still be a hero with everyone else.

There are plenty more examples of this but I think you get the idea. Now let's take a look at the villains' ending :

Toya is now a piece of charcoal kept artificially alive for the few years he has left, unable to move a finger, and whose few minutes a day during which he can stay awake will be spent talking to his father who abused him as a child.

Toga, a literal teenager, killed herself to save Ochako and because she knew it's still better than rotting at Tartarus her whole life.

And not only did she die but she did by bleding to death. Let me repeat for those who have trouble grasping what I've just said : In a manga where the heroes can survive having their heart blown to bits, being impaled Kakyoin-style or smashed against buildings like a fly on a windshield, one of the main antagonists died of a fucking hemorrhage…

As for Shigaraki, after learning that his very birth and all the tragedies of his life have been orchestrated by AFO, after all this development and narrative promises about him being saved in the end... Deku just kills him.

Because despite all his speeches about saving him, it seems like the best our MC could do was beating him both physically and mentally until he crumbles to dust…

Compress on his side is apparently locked up for life and kept alive by machines too.

A begging Kurogiri tried in a desperate attempt to save Shigaraki, only to be unceremoniously blown up by Bakugo and dying off-screen without anyone giving a shit, including Aizawa and Mic.

And Spinner will now spend the rest of his life struggling with the extra quirks inside him that affect his body and mind, while having to cope with the thought that his boyfriend best friend and companions have either died alone or are locked away for life in horrifying circumstances.

Clearly not the same as with the heroes...

Now don't get me wrong, even if they suffered just as much from the consequences of their actions or the plot as the League, this ending would still be a disaster in terms of writing but AT LEAST it wouldn't reek that much of hypocrisy.

[bblairxe]

— ୨ৎ movie night . sevika x reader . nsfw

it’s a friday night, which also means it’s you and sevika’s weekly movie night. tonight, the two of you were going to watch some shitty 2000’s slasher film. she was always one for the excessive amount of blood, screams, and lame jump scares. she claims that it’s ‘great advice for the future.’

you’re slotted in between her thighs, your back flushed with her chest. you could feel each breath she takes and the steady pace of her heartbeat. it’s all so comforting, like she’s protecting you from all the troubles from the outside world with her large embrace.

you both stay like that for the duration of the movie. until you feel sevika’s flesh hand release it’s hold from your waist and settle on your chest. you don’t think much of it, she’s always had some kind of ‘your boobs are like my stress balls’ thing with your chest. but you feel her thumb rubbing over your nipple, causing your breath to catch in your throat. “vika, i’m tryna focus.”

“then focus, doll. m’ not doing anything.”

you roll your eyes at her words. obviously she knew what she was doing, and as much as you wanted to snap back at her with some bratty remark, you hold your tongue.

you bring your attention back to the screen in front of you. apparently the main character’s ex boyfriend turned out to be the killer and is now going on a whole killing spree. how fun. you tried your best to keep your focus on the movie, not wanting to give into sevika’s horny tendencies.

that’s until you feel her hand start to go lower, breaking the waistband of your shorts. her fingers ghost over your clit barely touching but it’s enough to send a shiver through your body. she lets out a low chuckle at your shifting, your attempt to squirm away from her touch. she wraps her mech arm below your chest, holding you in place.

“watch the movie, baby. focus.”

“vika, you know i can’t. not when you’re touching me like — oh fuck.”

she pulls your underwear to the side and dips a finger into your hole. the sound of your juices sloshing around her brings a cocky smile to her face. “so wet for me, yet you’re worried about a movie.” she huffs, slowly plunging her finger in and out of you.

you let out a whine in response, the movie the two of you were watching became nothing but background noise. your back arches off of her and your hips begin to move in sync with her hand. she feels so full inside of you, but it’s not enough. “two, please. n-need it sev.”

“what-a-fuckin’ whore.” is all she says before another fingers scissors inside of you. she gives you time to adjust to the new stretch. of course, she’s not all that evil, but once your whines start quieting down, she starts going harder and deeper.

her fingers curl up to that spot inside of you, each thrust kissing it. her pace is more calculated, she wants to see you fall apart in her grasp, watch you shake from just her fingers alone. she feels the way your walls clench and convulse around her, each contraction signaling that you’re getting closer.

“mmffhh sev, i’m close baby, d-don’t stop.” your demand comes out more like a plea, paired with the guttural moans coming from your lips.

“yeah, you gonna cum?” her pace speeds up, the sound of her hand connecting with your skin escaping the blankets. your head falls back against her shoulder, your thighs shaking around her arm. it’s so close, you’re so close, until she stops and her finger pulls out.

“finish watching this movie, and then i’ll let you cum.”

🏷️ : @samcvrpenters @ellieslosttwofingers @polarhues @pornoangelz @thedxxthnotes

[lilianne-tarot]

PICK-A-CARD: What's your lowkey powerful move? ˚୨୧⋆.˚

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　

I. II. III.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　

Hey there! Welcome to another PAC reading on my blog page—I hope you all enjoy it! Comment down what you felt about the reading and if it resonated with you and show some love, Your support means everything to me!<3 How to Pick Your Pile: Take a deep breath, clear your mind, and look at the images below. Which one pulls you in the most? Trust your gut! Once you choose the image, The number below your chosen image is your pile. If more than one catches your eye, that just means there’s extra tea for you—go ahead and read both!

get your own personalized paid reading here! it would really help me out!😊🦋

My KO-FI link: HERE! 🫶🏻

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　

⋆˙⟡Pile I

Ohhh, bestie, this spread is JUICY. I can already feel the energy radiating off these cards. So, the Ace of Pentacles is giving “I walk in, and the room shifts” vibes, maybe some of yall even feel that thing. people see you as someone who knows how to manifest real, concrete results. You give off that effortless “I make things happen” energy, and the wild part? Half the time, you don’t even have to announce it. You just move in silence, and suddenly, things start aligning in your favor. It’s like you have a golden touch, and people feel that. Now, here’s where it gets interesting—because the Magician reversed is shaking things up. Normally, the Magician is that “I have all the tools, I can do anything” card, but reversed? This is the art of the illusion. You have this insane ability to make things look effortless when, in reality, there’s a whole strategy behind it. nobody ever fully understands how you do it. Are you lucky? Are you secretly a mastermind? Do you have some divine favor that keeps you ahead? (👀 Spoiler alert: it’s all of the above.) this spread overall screams natural-born leader—you don’t even have to try to command attention, you just do, some of yall have held some major leader position in their lives, maybe in school or in now in your work space. What keeps people thinking about you? It’s the way you exude confidence in a way that’s not cocky, but magnetic. You have presence. You don’t need to brag, you don’t need to prove yourself, and you definitely don’t need outside validation. yall seem to be really secure in yourselves. but I would def say, Some people may even wonder if you’re manipulative, or if you’ve got some sort of secret advantage. People admire you, but they also lowkey fear you—because not everyone can handle someone who just moves differently.

This is the kind of energy that leaves ex-friends and past situationships wondering if they fumbled the bag . So keep doing what you’re doing, because this is powerful energy. Now tell me, does this reading not scream “you”? Because I feel like I just exposed your entire aura rn. 😂🔥

Liked the reading? get your own personalized paid reading here!

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　

⋆˙⟡Pile II

first of all i was so shocked when I saw all cards of this deck was cups. we’re not just talking about leaving a cute impression on people. This is some straight-up, ‘I met them once, and now they live rent-free in my head’ type of impact. Let’s break it down. Your Vibe? Ethereal, Emotionally Addictive, Unforgettable. Look, not everyone has the ability to make people feel something so intensely that they’re out here journaling about it six months later, you're that airport crush of people 😭.You are that person. The Knight of Cups, Queen of Cups, and Six of Cups together? Ohhh, this is emotional witchcraft. You have this almost cinematic energy—people don’t just remember you, they replay you like their favourite movie scene. It’s like you’re the embodiment of a nostalgic song that makes them stare out of the window like they’re in a music video. You’re not trying to be unforgettable—you just are. People feel safe with you, seen by you, and understood by you. And that?? That’s rare as hell in a world full of surface-level interactions(cmon we all what a pile 2 person in our life) . This also tells me your impact isn’t just strong—it’s lasting. People don’t move on from you quickly. Even if they don’t see you for years, something will trigger a memory of you (a song, a scent, a random moment), and suddenly, boom—there you are, sitting pretty in their mind like you never left.

people always remember you anyway. It’s not about being the loudest in the room—it’s about how deeply you made them feel something. And let’s be real: people forget words, but they never forget emotions. You might not even realize the weight of your presence until years later, when someone confesses, “You changed my life and didn’t even know it.”

So yeah, your power move? You leave emotional fingerprints on people’s souls. And the gag is? You don’t even have to try. 🤷‍♀️

Liked the reading? get your own personalized paid reading here!

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　

⋆˙⟡Pile III

They’re screaming depth, and an almost frustratingly intriguing energy. Like, people think they know you, but then you do or say something that makes them go, “Wait… who are you, actually?” And that question? That is why people cannot get you out of their heads.

Let’s talk about The Hanged Man sitting right in the middle—because that’s the core of your vibe. You don’t operate on the same wavelength as everyone else. Your energy is like when you’re watching a thriller, and the main character does something weird, and you just know there's a deeper reason, but you won’t find out until the end. You have this eerie, compelling stillness that makes people want to decode you. Then we have The Moon along with the hanged man, which? Chef’s kiss—because now we’re getting into that dreamy, slightly chaotic, almost unreal quality about you. You give people just enough to feel like they’re getting closer to understanding you… only for them to realize they have no idea what’s real and what’s projection. People get lost in their own assumptions about you. They see what they want to see, not necessarily who you actually are. (💀 Tell me why this feels like exactly the kind of energy that makes exes spiral at 3 AM, trying to figure out why they still don’t understand you.)You don’t need to flex your growth because by the time people catch on, you’re already five steps ahead. There’s something almost intimidating about how quietly powerful you are. Like, you might not even realize how often people compare themselves to you. You make people feel like they need to level up—but they’ll never admit you were their motivation.

Listen, you’re not just memorable—you’re the unresolved mystery in someone’s story. The “what if,” the “I never quite figured them out,” the “damn, I wish I could talk to them one more time.” People replay their interactions with you because they feel like they missed something. You don’t just linger in their mind—you haunt it. And the best part? You don’t even try. You don’t have to force an impact, you don’t need attention—you just exist in a way that makes people feel like they almost got close to understanding you… but never fully did. And that? That’s the kind of unforgettable energy that lives rent-free in people's minds forever.

Liked the reading? get your own personalized paid reading here!

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Thank you so much for reading all the way through! I hope my reading resonated with you and that you had a lovely time going through it. If you enjoyed it, please like and reblog—it really means a lot! Let me know which pile you chose; I absolutely love hearing your thoughts and feedback on my readings! ♡

Note: tarot cards provide guidance and possible insights into what could happen based on current energies, thoughts, and actions. the cards can highlight potential paths or outcomes, but they do not predict the future in a fixed way. this is a general reading so take what resonates!

[sunsetmaidenwrites]

An Essay on SamBucky

Just got back from seeing Captain America: Brave New World and am full of thoughts. The following contains Sambucky-centric thoughts, head canons, and spoilers based on the movie. (I have a separate post that includes my overall thoughts on the movie but this one is solely Sambucky.)

Sambucky nation--we rise! No divorce era for us! (Though it did provide for some awesome, angsty fics). I hope the trend continues with Thunderbolts*. Bucky is obviously looking rougher there than he did in this movie, so we're not out of the woods yet, but I'm feeling pretty good about our chances.

There's so much to say here. Multiple Bucky mentions (Sam alluding to Bucky when he talks about having a friend who was controlled by trigger words.), a picture of SamBucky prominently displayed at Sam's headquarters, Bucky showing up as emotional support when Sam needs him most, the hug, the "Buck" and the "I love you, Buddy." All of these have already been mentioned a lot, though, so for this post (who am I kidding this is an essay!), I would like to highlight a few points pertaining to the movie. I haven't really seen discussed in the Sambucky tag yet.

First, Sam says the following to Bucky at the hospital:

"Joaquin’s in here. Isaiah’s in prison. And Sterns…I had him. I had Sterns right in my hands but he got away." Bucky is given no additional backstory here, which means he already knows who Sterns is and what Sam is dealing with. This indicates Sam and Bucky are in regular contact with Sam keeping Bucky filled in on what's happening. This isn't just a case of Bucky seeing news footage and immediately going to Sam. Bucky is an active part of Sam's life and support system.

Then we have Bucky's line:

"Steve gave people something to believe in, but you give them something to aspire to." Bucky's admiration and devotion to Sam here is quite evident. I fully believe Bucky Barnes is all in for Sam Wilson and has been probably for longer than even he realizes.

Then toward the end of the scene where we get our iconic "Thanks Buck" and "I love you, Buddy" moment:

We have a wealth of unspoken communication here. Sam and Bucky seem to have a whole conversation with both their eyes and body language before they speak these words. Sam looks at Bucky. Looks down at (presumably) Bucky's outstretched hand. Then his eyes cut back up to Bucky. Then they cut back down as he shakes Bucky's hand, then he looks back up at Bucky. For Bucky's part, his eyes never leave Sam's face during the entirety of this. It's only right before he says "I love you, Buddy" that his gaze cuts down from Sam's face. After saying the words, Bucky proceeds to back away and Sam watches him go. The way this scene plays out, and the choices Mackie and Stan make leave a lot of room for subtext and interpretation, imo.

Right after this scene, we also get the female agent coming in with questions/comments about Bucky to Sam, alluding to a possible interest which Sam shuts down with "He's 110 years old." Look, it might make sense for Sam to try to nip a Bucky/Sarah potential connection in the bud like he did in TFATWS and it not mean anything (that's another essay for another day. I wasn't on Tumblr back then to share my thoughts on that.); after all, that's his sister and Bucky was riding on his last nerve through all the previous episodes at that point. It does not, however, make sense for Sam to insert himself into the narrative at this point and try to dissuade a random CIA agent from showing interest in Bucky if Bucky is just his friend and/or Sam's interest in him is purely platonic. It just doesn't. I cannot come up with a logical explanation for this besides the obvious 'that man is mine, step off' conclusion.

And for my last point:

During Sam's final showdown with the red hulk, with the outcome uncertain, and defeat (and therefore death) potentially eminent, Sam proceeds to bitch about Bucky under his breath. "Bucky is full of so much shit..." I know this is supposed to be funny and snarky, but it's also quite telling. We know that the signature of SamBucky's relationship--whether it's platonic or romantic--is the bickering. Not only is Sam spending his potential last moments ranting about Bucky (again, the staple of their relationship), he's also spending them thinking about Bucky. He's going out there facing odds that seem insurmountable and it's Bucky that's on his mind.

So, in conclusion, they're in love.

[sevikasbooyahh]

𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐖𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐘

Pairing: Caitvi x Reader

Summary: Making your girlfriends crochet gifts for Valentine's Day <3

The strongest scent in the room derived from the book that Vi was reading. It smelt of vetiver, a smoky, earthy aroma that blessed your nose. “The Adventures of Harden,” she’d been reading it for a while—that huge chunky novel must’ve been filled with a butt ton of action.

Caitlyn was busy in a council meeting, she’d gone back to announce her departure despite her inner confliction. She needed a break from everything, to not have so much weight on her shoulders for once in her life. Vi was the one to have done most of the convincing, she’s good at it—not very surprising.

“What’s happening as of now?” You asked Vi as you looked at the block on text from behind her. She leaned her head back to look up at you, “Huh?”

You gestured to the book, “In here, what’s happening?” Suddenly, all the deep knowledge she’s memorized in this book was gone with a poof. She scratched the mop of pink hair atop of her head, “I—uh, don’t remember, sorry,” You feigned a disappointmented sigh, resting your head on her shoulder.

“Did you really wanna know?” Her tone was near concerned, as if afraid that you actually were disappointed. You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face, “I’m just jossin’.” She visibly looked relieved, exhaling a breath. “What, scared I was sad to not hear your nerdiness?” The teasing tone in your voice made her quietly groan but not retort.

A part of her was a bit suspicious, just in general, she knew Valentine’s Day was coming up—and that you had to be planning something. But what? It could be anything, you had many talents. She internally scolded herself as to not think about it too much, though she couldn’t deny the excitement bubbling up inside.

—★—

The floor creaked under weight of your feet as you walked through the hallway, headed towards your crochet room.

With how huge the Kiramman mansion was, many rooms went unused, simply labeled as guest or storage, this being one of them. When Caitlyn noticed that crochet was one of your prominent hobbies, she offered for you to use any room you’d like.

You specifically chose this one for it’s beauty.

Sunlight shined through the one large window on the left side of the room, lighting up the darkest parts of the room. The view outside of that very window, ships coming from different areas to land at their docks; the tall buildings constructed by genius minds.

Piltover’s beauty never failed to amaze you.

Your crochet equipment was neatly settled on the wooden oak table. As you sat on the black rolling chair, the kitten-like figures were what you decided to work on first. You could only think about your girlfriends—how you saw them, but in a more adorable form.

You looped the black yarn with the hooked needle, each small thread tightening together like bonded atoms. Throughout the past hour, you slowly worked your way up. Adding on a small strawberry hat to it, with specks of white as seeds and it’s green leaf top.

On to the next, not muchh different, other than colors. The white yarn was a stark contrast from the black—and instead of a strawberry hat, a blueberry one. The star-shaped pattern on the top to represent the calyx.

…

You carefully cut the loose string that hung next to the eye. Perfection. Crafted with your bare hands—to say you were only proud was an understatement.

—★—

You couldn’t hold the absolute joy you felt when you entered the living room with the box. Giving anything to the ones you loved was the best gift that you could ever receive; you were excited for their reactions too. You waited up to this moment to show something special—with meaning, non-verbally announcing your love for them. It’s not that you couldn’t say ‘I love you’ out loud (well, maybe), but you didn’t wanna just say it without showing it as well.

They’ve never received crocheted gifts before, it’s not that common of a hobby. That was even more of a reason for you to make it.

—★—

“What is this I see?” Caitlyn raised an eyebrow at the mysterious brown box. Vi peeked from beside her—similar to a cat; curious, eyes trained onto the box like it’d disappear in seconds. She made her way closer before you lightly pushed her back, “You will see what it is, be patient.” You shook your head in amusement at her eagerness.

The moment you pulled them out, Caitlyn’s eyes widened, along with Vi’s jaw nearly dropping to the floor.

Vi took the figure as if it were porcelain, as if her hands were so rough that it’d break it so easily. “No way,” she whispered, inspecting every detail.

Tears started to well up in her eyes as she stared down at the plush. “It’s…it’s—thank you,” her laugh was watery as she hugged you, brawny arms squeezing you tight.

Valentines Day was barely celebrated in Zaun, but she remembered when Powder would make her tiny gadgets or trinkets. To her, it was more than she could act for, even if those things were now destroyed, still laid in a pile of dust and debris.

Caitlyn was speechless, staring at hers in shock; the little baby blue streaks mixed into the white yarn, the navy blue hat matching her own hair.

This was…sweet.

Sweet as honey; straight from the source. The most wonderful project she’d ever seen—better than any architecture or design that’s been brought to her.

She couldn’t help but join in on the hug as well, her face burying itself deep into your neck. Where she felt safe.

They’d surely cherish this forever.

—★—

Bonus moment:

She closed her eyes and hugged the crocheted kitten, “I’m gonna name him Barry.” She announced to the both of you, feeling content. Caitlyn looked up from her own kitten, “As in ‘berry?’ Wow, creative.” She nodded, amused.

…

That night, as the moon was up and the stars were out—your loves were fast asleep. Caitlyn was curled in on herself, legs near her mid-section, arms rested underneath her head. Vi, however, had her arms wrapped around Caitlyn’s waist, cheek pressed against the soft of her back. Barry was squished in between.

A/N: The idea of crocheting is so cute to me but I don’t know how to😔

[rootedinrevisions]

Worth the Effort

Summary: On their first Valentine’s Day together, Glen goes above and beyond to show his love in a way that proves just how much the reader means to him.

Warnings: None! Just pure fluff and good vibes.

Word Count: 4.3k

Author’s Note: Thank you to the Anon who sent in this request! This one was fun to write with the holiday coming up! Also put a little bit of myself in this one as I've never really had a partner put effort into Valentine's Day. So it was fun to brainstorm what someone would do to make Valentine’s Day special!

A Few Days Before Valentine's Day

The phone rings just as you’re settling onto the couch for the evening, the glow of the lamp next to you casting soft shadows against the walls of the living room. You glance at the screen, and the second you see Glen’s name your heart gives an involuntary flutter.

“Hey, babe,” you say, leaning back against the cushions. “Shouldn’t you be sleeping? Isn’t it like…two in the morning over there?”

There’s a chuckle on the other end, warm and familiar. “Nah, we wrapped late, and I couldn’t sleep without hearing your voice first.”

Your stomach tightens. He always knows what to say.

“Well, I’m honored,” you murmur, smiling despite yourself. “How’s London treating you?”

Glen sighs, and you can almost picture him. He’s probably stretched out in some ridiculously nice hotel room, one arm behind his head, hair tousled from a long day on set.

“It’s good. Cold as hell, though.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “You poor thing.”

“I know, right?” he says, voice dripping with mock suffering. “I need to get back to Texas.”

You roll your eyes. “Okay, drama queen.”

There’s a pause just long enough for you to hear the subtle shift in his tone when he speaks again. “Speaking of me coming back,” Glen starts, “don’t make any plans for Friday.”

Your brows pull together in confusion. “Friday?” You blink, glancing at the calendar on your nightstand. “What’s Friday?”

There’s a beat of silence.

“You’re messing with me,” Glen says flatly.

You tilt your head. “I’m… not?”

“Babe.” His voice dips, both amused and exasperated. “Friday is Valentine’s Day.”

Your stomach clenches. Your fingers tighten slightly around the phone, but you force a casual laugh.

“Right,” you say quickly. “Well, you don’t have to worry about coming home for just that. It’s just a stupid holiday.”

You’re met with silence. Not a long one, just a couple of seconds that are barely noticeable, but you hear it. And knowing Glen, he’s probably hearing everything you’re not saying.

He exhales softly. “C’mon, don’t be like that.”

You shrug, even though he can’t see you. “I’m serious. You don’t have to come all the way back just for some commercialized excuse to buy me chocolates and overpriced roses.”

His voice is softer now.  “You really think I’d let our first Valentine’s Day together be just another day?”

You don’t know how to explain what’s going through your head, at least not without sounding pathetic. But the truth is, the only other serious relationship you’ve ever had was with someone who hated Valentine’s Day. He called it pointless. Overrated. He never bought you flowers. Never made plans. Never did anything. And eventually, you just learned to stop expecting it.

Glen, though? Glen isn’t like that.

Still you shake your head, keeping your voice light. “I don’t know. I think you’re underestimating my ability to spend the night in pajamas bingeing bad reality TV.”

There’s a chuckle, but it’s quieter this time. Then, his voice turns gravelly, lower than before. “Sweetheart,” he murmurs, “I already have something planned.”

Your breath catches. “You—”

“I’ll be home Friday,” he promises. “And once I get home I’m all yours.”

* * * * *

Valentine’s Day - Morning

Soft morning light spills through your curtains painting yours and Glen’s bedroom in soft golden hues. You shift under the covers stretching lazily, the quiet hum of the world outside lulling you back into a light doze. For once you don’t have to rush. No work. No emails. No meetings. You took the whole day off not for Valentine’s Day, of course. Just…because. At least, that’s what you told yourself.

The faint sound of the front door unlocking downstairs barely registers in your half asleep state. Your mind lingers somewhere between dreamland and consciousness until a familiar voice cuts through the silence.

“Babe?”

Your eyes flutter open. There’s a brief second where your brain doesn’t quite catch up. Because Glen is in London. He’s supposed to be thousands of miles away.

But then a slow grin spreads across your face as you remember his promise. Pushing the covers off, you scramble out of bed and  run toward the living room. 

The second you turn the corner, there he is. Glen. Standing in your doorway, looking completely and devastatingly like home. His hair is tousled from travel, and his jacket is slung casually over one arm. But it’s the expression on his face that makes your breath hitch. That stupid heart melting smile.

“Hey beautiful,” he says, voice rich with amusement.

You don’t even think. You just launch yourself into his arms. Glen catches you easily, like he’s been waiting for it. One of his arms wraps around you, strong and warm, holding you just tight enough to make your heart squeeze.

“You’re here,” you mumble against his shoulder.

His laugh rumbles through his chest. “Told you I would be.”

You pull back just enough to look at him, your hands sliding to cup his face. He’s slightly scruffy, his jaw rough with the shadow of a beard like he hadn’t bothered to shave before hopping on a plane.

Your fingers brush over the stubble, and Glen just smirks.

“You checking if I’m real?” he teases.

You roll your eyes. “I’m debating if I should kill you for not telling me when your flight was landing. I would’ve picked you up.”

He chuckles, but before you can say anything else he pulls something from behind his back. A bouquet of roses. Deep red, vibrant, freshly wrapped with ribbon.

Your lips part, but for a second, nothing comes out.

Because this has never happened to you before. No one has ever shown up with flowers. No one has ever gone out of their way to make you feel like you’re worth the effort.

Glen watches you carefully, his gaze softer now. “You okay?”

You swallow, nodding as you take the bouquet from him. The petals are velvety under your fingertips, the scent delicate and sweet.

“You didn’t have to do this,” you say, voice barely above a whisper.

He tilts his head. “I know.” Then leaning in he presses a slow, lingering kiss to your forehead. “But I wanted to.”

Your chest tightens. Because for the first time ever Valentine’s Day doesn’t feel like some stupid, commercialized holiday.

It just feels like him.

Glen leans against the kitchen counter, arms crossed over his chest, watching as you tuck the roses into a vase. “So,” he says casually, “what time do you have to be at the office?”

You hesitate for half a second before replying, “I actually took the day off.”

Glen raises a brow, a slow smirk spreading across his face. “Did you now?”

You shoot him a look already knowing where this is going. “Don’t.”

“Oh, I’m definitely gonna.” He steps closer, tilting his head. “Did you take today off to avoid your office turning into a Valentine’s Day war zone?”

You sigh dramatically. “It’s not a war zone. It’s just…” You gesture vaguely. “Okay maybe it is kind of like a war zone.”

Glen chuckles. “So you’re telling me that right now, at this very moment, the entire office is split into two camps. One group gushing over their gifts, the other dramatically swearing off love forever.”

You snort. “Pretty much.”

He grins. “And you just…opted out?”

“I didn’t opt out,” you argue, crossing your arms. “I just thought, you know, a personal day sounded nice.”

Glen hums, unconvinced. “Mhm. Just a total coincidence that you took off work on Valentine’s Day?”

You roll your eyes. “Yes, actually.”

“Uh-huh.” He steps forward, hands slipping around your waist as he leans in. His voice drops, warm and teasing against your ear. “Admit it. You were worried I wouldn’t come back.”

Your stomach flips, but you try to keep your expression neutral. “You are so full of yourself. Not everything is about you, you know?”

He laughs, pressing a quick kiss to the side of your neck before pulling back. “Maybe.”

Moving effortlessly around your kitchen, Glen grabs a frying pan and starts pulling things from the fridge.

You frown. “Are you…cooking?”

He raises a brow. “What, you think just because I’m a pretty face I can’t make breakfast?”

You smirk, hopping up onto the counter. “I think I’ve seen you burn toast before.”

He points a spatula at you. “That was one time. And I was distracted.”

You narrow your eyes playfully. “By what?”

Glen grins. “You, probably.”

Your cheeks warm, but you shake your head laughing as Glen effortlessly takes over the kitchen.

The rest of the morning is easy. Pancakes, fresh fruit, coffee. You sit cross legged on the couch while Glen flips through the channels, landing on an old movie you’ve both seen a dozen times.

The world outside drifts by, but here in this little pocket of time, everything feels calm.

Because it’s not about the holiday. It’s just about being with him.

Later That Afternoon

You’re curled up on the couch, half asleep, when Glen nudges your foot.

“Hey,” he says, stretching. “We should probably get ready soon.”

You frown, peeking one eye open. “For what?”

He smirks. “C’mon. I’ve got plans for us.”

You hesitate, eyeing him suspiciously. “What kind of plans?”

His lips twitch. “The kind where you should wear something nice.”

Your stomach flips. Because Glen Powell does not do basic.

Which means whatever he’s got planned…it’s something big.

You stand in the middle of the walk-in closet, hands on your hips, staring at the rows of clothes as if they might magically assemble themselves into the perfect outfit.

Something nice. That’s what Glen had said. But what does that even mean? Does he mean nice boots and jeans? Like Texas casual nice? Or does he mean nice dinner nice?

You sigh pulling out a dress, then immediately putting it back. You check your phone like maybe Glen has sent some kind of clarification, but no. Just a winking emoji in response to your earlier “Where are we going?” text.

So helpful.

Just as you’re debating whether you should just put on leggings and hope for the best, you hear footsteps behind you.

“You’re overthinking.”

You turn to see Glen leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, grinning like he’s caught you doing something embarrassing.

“I am not overthinking,” you say even though, okay, maybe you are.

Glen pushes off the doorframe and steps inside, his gaze flicking from the half-unzipped dress in your hand to the growing pile of discarded outfits on the bench. “You’re standing in the middle of the closet looking like you’re solving a murder,” he teases.

You huff. “That’s because you were vague.” You gesture toward him. “What does something nice even mean? You’re wearing jeans!”

He glances down at his outfit—jeans and a crisp button up, the sleeves rolled up in a way that does unfair things to his forearms. “Yeah. Because I know where we’re going.”

“That’s not helpful.”

He laughs, stepping closer. “Here.” He slides past you, reaching into your side of the closet like he’s done it a hundred times before. He pulls out a sundress. It’s one of your favorites. Light, comfortable, effortless. The kind of thing that works for a casual dinner or something a little special.

He holds it up. “This one.”

You take it, raising an eyebrow. “You picked that fast.”

He shrugs. “I like this one on you.”

Something about the way he says it is so easy and certain. It sends warmth curling through your chest. You glance at him, suddenly aware of the way he’s watching you, like he already knows you’re going to listen to him.

“Alright,” you say, fighting a smile. “But if I’m overdressed, I’m blaming you.”

Glen grins. “That’s fair.” He leans in, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek before stepping back. “I’ll meet you downstairs.”

You smooth your hands over the dress as you step out of the bedroom, your heels clicking lightly against the hardwood as you make your way down the stairs. There’s a hint of nerves buzzing in your chest. Not because you’re unsure about the date, but because Glen has a way of making everything feel like it means more.

As you reach the last step, you spot him near the front door, messing with his watch. He must hear you approaching because he glances up. And freezes.

His fingers pause, his whole body going still as he looks at you like he’s seeing you for the first time.

You recognize that look. It’s the one he gave you the first time you ever dressed up for an event together. The one he gets when you’re wearing something that knocks the breath out of him.

His lips part slightly, his brows lifting just enough to be noticeable. His eyes take a slow appreciative once over, lingering on the soft fabric of your dress, the way it falls just right, the way it hugs your curves without even trying.

“See something you like?” you tease, one eyebrow quirking as you reach the bottom step.

Glen blinks like you just snapped him out of a trance. Then that easy, borderline cocky grin of his slides into place. “I always do,” he says smoothly, stepping toward you. “But damn, sweetheart.” His voice dips lower warm and teasing. “You really outdid yourself tonight.”

You roll your eyes fighting back a smile. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re stunning.” He closes the space between you, reaching for your hand. His fingers slide against yours, warm and steady. “If I didn’t already have a whole plan for tonight, I’d be seriously reconsidering leaving this house.”

Your face warms at his words, but you shake your head with a laugh. “Well, now I definitely need to know what this plan is.”

He smirks, giving your hand a quick squeeze before leading you toward the door. “Oh, trust me, sweetheart.” He opens the door, gesturing for you to step outside. “You’re gonna love it.”

As you step outside the cool evening air wraps around you, carrying the scent of fresh grass and the lingering warmth of the Texas sun. Glen’s hand is warm in yours as he leads you toward the garage where his truck and SUV sit side by side. Your car is parked in the third spot.

You glance between his truck  and the SUV, expecting him to open the door to one of the vehicles. Maybe he’s planned a nice dinner in town or some kind of fancy event. But instead of going for the truck Glen veers to the side…toward the Gator ATV.

You stop short. “Uh… did you forget we’re dressed nicely?” You gesture between the two of you, your dress swaying slightly with the motion. “Because I don’t think this outfit is exactly ATV appropriate.”

Glen just grins, already pulling open the driver’s side. “You trust me, don’t you?”

You narrow your eyes playfully. “Should I?”

He leans against the roll cage, arms crossed, eyes sparkling with mischief. “I did put in all this effort to plan something special for you.” He tilts his head toward the passenger seat. “So, what do you say? You gonna climb in and find out, or are you gonna stand there and keep looking pretty?”

You bite your lip, giving the Gator a once over. It’s not what you expected, but with Glen the unexpected is usually the best part. With a small sigh you step forward, gathering your dress slightly as you climb into the seat.

Glen smirks as he watches. “See? That wasn’t so bad.”

“I swear, if you send me flying—”

“Sweetheart.” He places a hand over his heart. “I would never let anything happen to you.” Then with a wink he turns the key, and the engine rumbles to life beneath you.

As he pulls out of the garage, the headlights cut through the dusky sky, and the excitement in your chest starts to build. You still don’t know where he’s taking you, but you can already tell whatever it is, it’s going to be unforgettable.

The ride is short, but the anticipation builds with every bump and turn down the dirt path. The air is crisp and fresh, carrying the scent of wild grass and the faintest hint of cedar. The last bit of golden sunlight lingers on the horizon, casting everything in a warm glow.

As Glen slows the ATV to a stop, you finally see it—a clearing in the middle of his land, wide and open, with a sky that seems to stretch forever. And right in the center of it all, a blanket is spread out, a carefully packed picnic basket resting on top, along with a small lantern glowing softly in the evening light.

“You did all this?” you ask softly, turning to Glen as he kills the engine.

He grins, already stepping out of the ATV and moving to your side. “Told you I had something special planned.” He reaches for your hand, helping you down with that effortless, gentlemanly ease that always makes your heart race.

As soon as your feet touch the ground, you kick off your shoes, the cool grass tickling your bare skin. Glen watches with amusement. “Getting comfortable already?”

“You expect me to sit on a picnic blanket in heels?” you tease.

He chuckles, slipping his arm around your waist as he guides you toward the setup. “Fair enough.”

Once you reach the blanket Glen lets go of you just long enough to sit down first. Then with that easy, confident charm, he reaches out offering his hand to you.

You place your hand in his letting him help you down, and as soon as you’re settled, he stays close. One arm propped behind you for support, his body warm and solid beside yours.

“This…” You take another glance around, your heart swelling at the effort he’s put into all of this. “This is amazing, Glen.”

His gaze softens, a small smile playing on his lips. “You deserve it.”

And just like that the tension in your chest, the years of past Valentine’s Days that were ignored or dismissed fades into something warm and weightless.

You bite your lip, trying to suppress the way your emotions threaten to creep up, but Glen must notice because he reaches up, brushing his thumb gently against your cheek.

“Hey,” he murmurs, “none of that. No sad thoughts tonight.”

You exhale a small laugh. “I’m not sad,” you admit. “I just…I think this is the first time Valentine’s Day has actually felt like something special.”

His fingers slide under your chin, tilting your face toward his. His voice is soft, steady. “That’s because you’re special.”

And before you can argue, before you can brush it off, he leans in, pressing a soft lingering kiss to your lips, sealing the moment in a way that leaves no room for doubt.

Glen reaches into the picnic basket, a playful smirk on his face as he starts unpacking the meal he’s carefully put together. There’s fresh fruit, a variety of cheeses, slices of warm bread wrapped in a cloth, and a thermos that smells suspiciously like homemade soup.

You raise a brow. “You went all out for this.”

He grins as he pops open a container, revealing chocolate-covered strawberries. “Told you I had a plan.”

As you both start eating, the atmosphere settles into something warm and intimate. The sky deepens into a soft indigo, stars beginning to peek through, and the lantern beside you casts a cozy glow over the blanket.

At one point, Glen picks up a piece of cheese, holding it out toward you with an exaggerated look of expectation. “Open up, sweetheart.”

You roll your eyes but lean in anyway, taking the bite from his fingers. His smirk widens. “See? That wasn’t so bad.”

You swallow, shaking your head at him. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And yet, you love me.”

You snort. “That’s still up for debate.”

Glen gasps dramatically, clutching his chest as if wounded. “Damn. And here I thought I was winning you over.”

“You’re gonna have to work a little harder than feeding me cheese,” you tease.

He leans in, voice dropping just a little. “Noted.”

Your stomach flutters, but before you can react, Glen reaches back into the basket, pulling something out and setting it in front of you with a little flourish.

“Speaking of working harder,” he says, “here’s your real Valentine’s Day present.”

You blink, looking down at the small, wrapped box in front of you. Your heart stutters. “Glen…”

“No arguing,” he warns, nudging it toward you. “Just open it.”

Your fingers hesitate for a moment before you carefully peel back the wrapping. Inside, nestled in a velvet box, is a delicate bracelet—simple but elegant, with a small charm that catches the lantern light.

You recognize it instantly.

The charm is in the shape of Texas, and etched into it, so small you almost miss it, are the coordinates of Glen’s ranch.

Your breath catches.

“So you always have a piece of home with you,” he murmurs, watching your reaction closely.

A lump rises in your throat as you run your fingers over the charm, heart swelling at the thought behind it.

You glance up at Glen, eyes shining. “I—”

But the words don’t come.

Instead, you reach for him, cupping his face and pulling him into a kiss that’s soft and slow, filled with everything you’re feeling but can’t quite put into words.

You swallow the lump in your throat and whisper, “I love you.”

Glen smiles, pressing a kiss to your nose before pulling you into his arms. “Love you too, sweetheart.”

The sky is painted in soft hues of orange and pink, the last remnants of daylight sinking beyond the horizon. The warmth of the setting sun lingers on your skin, but it’s nothing compared to the warmth radiating from Glen as you lean back against his chest. His arms are wrapped loosely around your waist, fingers idly tracing patterns along your forearm.

You sigh contentedly, tilting your head slightly to look up at him. “This was perfect.”

Glen hums, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Yeah?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

For a while neither of you speak. You just sit there tangled up in each other watching the sun disappear. There’s a peacefulness in the quiet moments between you, in the way Glen’s breath moves steadily against your back, in the way his fingers never stop their gentle absentminded movements against your skin.

And then, as the last bit of daylight fades, Glen shifts behind you. “C’mon,” he murmurs, pressing another kiss to the top of your head before gently pulling away and standing up.

You blink, watching as he makes his way over to the Gator. “Where are you going?”

Glen doesn’t answer. At least not right away. Instead he reaches into the vehicle, flicks on the headlights, and suddenly the entire field is bathed in a warm golden glow. Then from the glove compartment he pulls out a small Bluetooth speaker.

Your heart stutters as he powers it on and scrolls through his phone for a moment before a familiar melody starts playing.

You recognize it instantly. It’s the first song you and Glen ever slow danced to on the first date.

Your breath catches as he turns back to you, the softest smile tugging at his lips. He makes his way over, holding his hand out. “Dance with me?”

You don’t hesitate. Slipping your hand into his, you let him pull you up and guide you into the middle of the makeshift dance floor. The headlights cast a dreamy glow, the stars begin to dot the inky sky above, and the music wraps around you like a warm embrace.

Glen’s hands find your waist, drawing you in close as he sways you to the music. You rest your arms around his neck, your fingers playing idly with the hair at the nape of his neck.

For a moment, you just move together, slow and easy, as if the rest of the world has faded away.

“You remember this?” Glen murmurs, his lips close to your ear.

You nod against his shoulder. “Of course, I do.”

“I do too.” He pulls back just enough to meet your eyes. “I remember thinking that night that I’d do anything to get the chance to dance with you again..”

Your breath shudders, emotion tightening in your chest. “Glen—”

But he doesn’t let you finish. Instead he dips his head and kisses you slow and deep, like he’s got all the time in the world. And maybe he does.

The music plays on, the soft melody weaving between the night sounds of crickets and the occasional rustle of the breeze through the grass. Glen holds you close, his warmth wrapped around you like a second skin, his heartbeat steady beneath your cheek.

Neither of you speak, but words aren’t necessary. Everything you need to say is in the way he holds you, in the way he sways with you, in the way his fingers trace gentle patterns along your spine.

As the song nears its end, Glen presses his lips to your temple, lingering there for a long moment before whispering, “You get it now, don’t you?”

You blink up at him. “Get what?”

He smiles, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “That you deserve this. That you’re worth the effort.” His thumb skims over your cheek. “And that I’d fly across the world a hundred times over just to spend a day loving you.”

The words steal the breath right out of your lungs. Emotion swells in your chest, tightening your throat, burning behind your eyes.

You shake your head, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as you whisper, “You’re gonna make me cry.”

Glen chuckles, tucking you against his chest once more. “Then I guess I’m doing something right.”

And so, you stay there—wrapped up in his arms, slow dancing beneath the stars, as the music fades and the world around you stands still.

Just you and him.

Exactly where you’re meant to be.

[delusionsofgrandeur13]

good old-fashioned lover boy

a valentines weekend event fic!

jason todd x reader: ever the romantic: despite all his best attempts, none of his valentine’s day plans are going right!

content level: fluff so fluffy you could make a bed out of it and sleep for days

“with what..i most enjoy contented least..” jason shakes his head, pacing around the living room. “yet..in these thoughts? myself almost despising..c’mon, already!” he keeps muttering to himself, and from your position in the hallway, he looks extremely frustrated. you stifle a giggle, stepping out.

“jay?” you call, smiling warmly as you head his way.

“baby!” he starts, looking surprised. he puts up what look like jazz hands, before looking at his pose and dropping them, sheepish. “what’s up?”

“oh, nothing..” you plop onto the couch, pulling out your phone, waving it at him. “i did just get off of the phone with your brother, and he’s taking barbara on a little getaway. isn’t that sweet?”

jason nods, his whole demeanor having changed since the mention of dick. he waves for you to continue. because of course there’s more.

“well, he was wondering if we’d be able to dogsit haley.” you drop the news, almost cringing in anticipation of jason’s hard:

“no.”

“jay, why not? that dog is so stinkin’ cute and i have no problem with it.” he plops down next to you on the couch, and you blink up at him. “besides, it’s for valentine’s day! spread a little love!”

jason grabs your thigh, smirking. “oh, i’ll spread a little love, alright.”

“not if you’re gonna be this stubborn.” you roll your eyes, whacking his arm.

he sighs as you get up to go to the kitchen, dramatic as ever.

“fine.” he relents, and internally you let out a sigh of your own.

“good, because i already told him yes.”

your admission leaves jason groaning, but a small smile sits on his lips.

a few months prior:

“these ones, right?” the clerk looks up as packets upon packets of seeds tumble onto the checkout counter. she sets down her magazine, mumbling under her breath.

“camellia, tulips, coneflower, lily of the valley..” she shuffles through them, nodding as she goes. “yep, these should all work!”

“okay.” jason nods firmly. “i want all of them.”

february 13

haley’s happy barks are making you giggle, and jason suddenly can’t remember why he was ever opposed to the idea. if there’s an open tab on his search engine for the nearest shelter, well. that’s no one’s business but his.

you’re infatuated with haley, and jason snapped a ridiculous amount of pictures when you fell asleep on the couch with the dog snuggled up next to you.

later

you walk in as jason’s opening and closing the cabinets in the kitchen, a bit frantically.

“okay, flour, baking soda, sugar..”

“hey, baby. whatcha doing?”

jason jumps, turning around with a smile.

“hi honey! nothing, really. what are you doing?” he leans against one of the counters.

“uh..nothing? do you still want to go try that new pizza spot?” you walk up to him, resting your head on his chest and threading your arms under his. he wraps you up into a hug, walking you away from the kitchen. you giggle, your smile scrunching up your eyes.

“jay, where are we going?”

“why, to go get ready, of course?” he says, playing serious.

even later

you’re scrolling on your phone, looking for gifts for your boyfriend for valentine’s day, when he pops his head into the bedroom.

“i’m going to head out to the store, babe. do you need anything?”

you cock your head, sort of confused. you and jason almost always go get groceries together, unless one of you is at work or something. you set your phone down, thinking.

“the only thing i can think of is that we might be running a little low on eggs?”

jason nods, coming in to plant a big kiss on your forehead.

“sounds good,” he says, grabbing his jacket as he walks out. you settle back into bed, eyebrows furrowed. weird.

february 14th

“damn it, damian!” jason hoarsely growls from your apartment’s balcony, eyes locked on his flower pots. (or what was left of them) he’d gotten up early to get everything ready, and there was a batarang lodged into his pot, the flowers—he leaned over the railing—yup, on the sidewalk. great. now he’d have to buy you a store bought bouquet. which is fine, but seriously? he has half a mind to send a bill to bruce, he’s so pissed off. he didn’t even realize they were fighting over here last night, how could he not have heard?

he trudges down to the street with a garbage bag, carefully picking up the flowers—which had already been stepped on, to add insult to injury—handfuls of dirt, and the broken shards of the pot, dropping them all into the bag. an elderly woman strolls by, patting him on the back.

“such a nice young man!” she calls after him. he nods, raising a hand in acknowledgement. he doesn’t feel very nice right now.

jason cannot believe his ears right now. his voice is..gone? he spent weeks memorizing that sonnet for you, and his voice is a raspy, gravelly mess. you two had slept with the window open last night and it’d been pretty cold, but you liked that. he liked it, because the you’d snuggle up next to him. but he must be starting to get a cold or something. he hasn’t really talked yet today either, he’s been home alone while you’re at work. so far he’s just talked to the dog..which went extremely poorly. he tried to give haley a command, but just sounded like a teenager in puberty. he just knows if dogs could laugh, haley would’ve been cackling. ugh. maybe he’ll just save it for an anniversary. tying on an apron, jason grabs all the cake ingredients he needs, setting them out onto the counter.

the cake is baked, and it is beautiful. jason’s proud of himself, putting the final touches on the frosting, adding flourishes he didn’t even know he knew how to do. he sets down the piping bag, checking the time. you should be home from work anytime now. he takes his apron off, washing his hands. his shirt is..covered in flour, to say the least. he goes the bedroom to change, (into a different black shirt) coming back out when he sees disaster about to strike.

“haley, no!” jason shouts, except the dog can’t hear him if he’s lost his voice. haley jumps up, grabbing the end of the plate with her teeth. it bangs against the side of the counter, effectively flinging the cake across the room, onto the kitchen floor. jason slaps a hand over his eyes, groaning. the familiar metal of your key slots into the lock, and you open the door to…

what exactly is going on, anyways?

jason has a smear of what looks like flour on his face, haley is sitting, looking at you with her tongue out and her tail wagging, and there’s a cake. on the floor.

“jay..what?” you set down your bag, shrugging your coat off and dropping that too, heading towards your boyfriend. “what happened, baby?”

“i was trying,” jason sighs. “i was trying to make you a cake for valentine’s day. and grow you flowers. and recite shakespeare to you. but quite literally none of those things worked out.”

you smile, sending his heart thumping as you brush the flour off of his cheek.

“well, i don’t know about you, but i’m starving. and there’s some cake on the floor over there that looks, like, really good.”

jason rolls his eyes at you, a smile starting on his lips. you grab two forks, handing him one. he joins you on the floor, watching as you take a huge first bite. your cheeks puffed, you chew with wide eyes. jason chuckles, grabbing some for himself too. you swallow, grabbing his hand.

“jason. i don’t know how to tell you this, but you need to quit everything you’re doing and become a professional baker. this cake is insane.” you take another bite, sighing as you close your eyes.

“you’re ridiculous.” jason’s blushing, shaking his head. you shrug, scooping cake up and bringing your fork to his lips.

“yeah, but you like it.” you say as he nods, chewing. he swallows, beaming at you.

“happy valentine’s day, baby.”

“happy valentine’s day, jason.”

༄ For thy sweet love remembered such wealth brings

That then I scorn to change my state with kings.

from sonnet 29, william shakespeare.

post divider courtesy of: @saradika-graphics

[plaidcowboy]

pls i need more soft rafe 🧎🏾‍♀️ i feel like people barely writes for him all soft and cutie

◜ RAFE CAN’T FOCUS ᪖ during movie night ᮫ ۪ ۫ ֢

༝ ﹆ softie rafe ༝ ⊹ ᰍꫬ distracted rafe ༝ ੭

you playfully shoved rafe’s hand when it went to lie on you again. you glanced over to see him lull his head onto the back of the couch, upset after another failed attempt. you giggled at his slight pout, “at least the first ten minutes” you referred to the film you put on for you two to watch. it was a favorite of yours and you wanted to introduce it to him. “’m down” he had said. but seeing you in your cute pj set all snuggled up next to him, made him distracted.

“just give me a brief synopsis so i know what i’m watching . . i’m paying attention, i just wanna . . pay more attention . . ” you watched as his brows slowly furrowed and a from formed on his face as his sentence went on. he didn’t even know what he was talking about.

you nodded, going along so you two could just start the movie. “so, they’re starting their first senior year of high school. well, at least she is. you’ll figure out why he technically isn’t later . . ” you were cut off by rafe gripping the bottoms of your set. “where’d you get this from? i want to put you in more.”

you grabbed his hand, putting it back onto his lap. “were you listening?” you huffed out. rafe looked up to you, “yeah, she’s a senior, he isn’t . . what?” rafe realized your words.

you giggled, “no, they’re both seniors, he just . . well, you’ll see. anyway . .” rafe halted your words again, “no, seriously, what store? you look so cute like that explaining your favorite movie. i could listen to you talk about anything. i’d believe anything you say. i don’t even have to watch the movie, you just tell me everything and i sit here and stare at you. is that an option?”

you froze, hands mid gesture while explaining. “no . . not an option” rafe’s head slung down. he sighed, “yeah, i figured.”

“rafe!” you grabbed his face, getting closer to him by shuffling forward on your knees, “it’s not that hard! it’s a good movie. watch this one, then we can do whatever you want.”

you’d thought that would tempt him. but instead . . “i really like when you touch me. have i ever told you, your hands are so soft, and i might be one of those physical touch people. but i only want touch from you, all the time. what is that called?”

you sat, staring at him. “um . . obsessed.”

rafe nodded in your hands. “yeah, that’s it. i like touching you too . . ” he pulled your waist, head coming down onto your neck. you felt him take a breath. “and you smell good. jus’ wanna cover you in bites. can i, please?”

you sighed, not understanding how you two strayed from the movie this much. “so . . no movie?” rafe’s head came up, frowning at the look on your face. “no, we’re watching this movie. my baby wants to watch this movie, we’ll watch it. she gets anything she wants.”

you couldn’t help the smile that formed, “okay, yay. will you actually focus?” you rose your brow at him, mockingly serious.

“yep,” rafe rose his hands in surrender, “no touching . . ” he quickly put his hands back onto your waist, “actually, no. got to touch.”

you giggled out a, “fine,” and turned in his lap to continue the movie. “comfy?” you asked.

“of course,” you heard from behind you. “great. there’s four more movies after this.”

“there’s what?”

[hollaforlyla]

Happy late Valentine's day!! could you write for Shadow x reader and they're already in an established relationship but reader is still new to relationships and is also REALLY touchstarved? Have a good day/night!

" LEARNING TO BE LOVED " ── shadow x gn!reader

so like, reader is me fr 🫶🏻 no warnings, i think, very detailed ── maybe too detailed 💀 but i love shadow, i love this concept, so im not complaining 💗 plz enjoy!!

pairing: shadow x reader

genre: fluff, hurt/comfort

Being with Shadow was the best thing that had ever happened to you. But even after months of dating, you still struggled with certain aspects of your relationship—mainly, touch.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to be close to him. In fact, you craved it. Your entire body longed for warmth, for comfort, for the feeling of being held. But years of going without it had made you hesitant, unsure. The idea of simply taking what you wanted felt foreign, like it was something you hadn’t quite earned.

Shadow had never pressured you. He wasn’t overly affectionate himself, but he was perceptive, and you knew he noticed your hesitations. He always let you take the lead when it came to touch, but that was part of the problem—you didn’t know how to take the lead. You didn’t know how to ask.

Tonight, you were curled up on the couch beside him, a movie playing in the background, though neither of you were truly watching it. The flickering screen cast dim light over the room, making the atmosphere feel warmer, softer. Shadow sat beside you, his usual rigid posture slightly relaxed as he rested one arm on the back of the couch.

Your fingers twitched slightly in your lap, a silent war waging in your mind. You wanted to lean against him. You wanted to feel his warmth. But every time you worked up the courage, doubt would creep in.

Would he think you were being needy? Would he get annoyed?

“…Something wrong?”

Shadow’s voice broke the silence, his tone low but not unkind. You looked up at him, startled. His crimson eyes were focused on you, analyzing, waiting.

“I…” You hesitated, your fingers gripping the hem of your sleeve. “No. I just…”

Shadow’s eyes flicked downward, catching the way your hands clenched. He was silent for a moment before exhaling softly.

“You don’t have to ask,” he said simply.

Your breath caught in your throat.

“I can tell you want something,” he continued. “If you need… anything, just say it.”

His voice was calm, patient—so utterly Shadow. The words were simple, but to you, they felt like permission. Like a safety net.

Swallowing hard, you hesitantly inched closer, pressing against his side. You half-expected him to tense up or pull away, but he didn’t. Instead, he adjusted ever so slightly, allowing you to settle comfortably against him. Your heart pounded as you carefully rested your head against his shoulder, his fur soft and warm against your cheek.

And then, slowly—hesitantly—Shadow lifted his arm from the couch and wrapped it around you.

The moment his hand settled against your back, something inside you cracked.

Warmth spread through your chest, overwhelming in its gentleness. You had spent so long aching for this kind of comfort, and now that you had it, it almost felt unreal. Your throat tightened, and before you could stop yourself, you squeezed your eyes shut and gripped the fabric of Shadow’s furred chest, as if afraid he might disappear.

His arm tightened around you in response. Not enough to smother, but enough to ground you.

A shaky breath escaped you.

“…Thank you,” you whispered, barely able to get the words out.

Shadow didn’t reply right away. He didn’t need to. Instead, his hand moved in slow, careful strokes along your back, his touch firm yet cautious—like he was trying to memorize you just as much as you were memorizing him.

“You don’t have to thank me,” he finally murmured. “You deserve this.”

Your breath hitched.

You had never thought about it that way before. You had always felt like affection was something you had to earn—something fragile that could be taken away if you weren’t careful. But here Shadow was, holding you like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Like you deserved to be held.

The weight of that realization made your eyes sting, and before you could stop yourself, you nuzzled further into his chest. Shadow let out a small breath—something between a sigh and a chuckle—but he didn’t pull away. If anything, he held you closer.

Neither of you spoke after that. You didn’t need to.

Because in that moment, wrapped in Shadow’s warmth, you finally felt safe.

And for once, you let yourself believe you were worthy of it.

RAAAHHHH IM GOING MENTAL