#small extra note: i think a lot of my love for a gentle and sweet megatron is because my first proper impression of her is from earthspark

[nomiyakazehaya]

2, 7, 8, 12, 14, 23 for megatron^^

2. where to even begin… for one, the ever imposing leader of decepticons likes to write poetry? just, the fact that such an aggressive and terrifying warlord known for so much destruction and violence has a sweeter, softer side deep down somewhere has me kicking my feet and sobbing… 🥲 which also stems my love for how much more gentle and noble megatron originally was. (i know this is case-by-case depending on continuity, but you get the picture)

7. absolutely love when people give megatron she/her pronouns! idk, i just resonate with it so much and enjoy projecting my own gender on her :) (but i absolutely support he/she/they megs too!!)

8. i think i share this sentiment with most people, but please stop making my babygirl a rapist or sexual assaulter of any kind!! or comparing her to hitler and nazis, and saying they're the same! like, i know megs is a warlord and has committed countless war crimes, but Please. why are you saying she did things she absolutely did not do and Would Not. do 😭

12. maybe a super unpopular headcanon, but i like to headcanon that while in the public eye or in front of others, megatron would, of course, prefer to be in full control and shown to be indomitable, but when she's behind closed private doors and with her significant other, she likes to let loose, let go of the reins and let her partner take care of her, be a little submissive, even. always being in constant control gets tiring and stressful, after all! :)

14. i… may be just a little (a lot) biased, but i love to imagine megatron in east asian traditional/oriental clothes, like a korean hanbok or kimono. or silky, flowy fashion. those kinds of threads just have such a graceful and elegant air to them, and i think they suit megs so much. like, i just absolutely love imagining megatron with all kinds of flowing sashes and ribbons on her… 🥺 bonus points if there's a futuristic/cyberpunk twist to the dresses. but a really, really close second fashion aesthetic would be techwear. megatron would absolutely rock the techwear look. hell, in an au of mine, i quite literally put her in a fusion hanbok with techwear mixed in. my tastes certainly show 😂 more projection, tee hee

23. my personal favorites have to be these two bc like. girl, what business do you have making that kind of devious expression 😭

this very particular and specific one frame i happened to catch of her is also an all-time favorite because the way she looks like she's grimacing and judging sends me 😂😂

[jobean12-blog]

For the First Time and Forever

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x female reader (princess!reader)

Word Count: 1,181

Summary: Marcus can't stay away any longer and comes to you in the middle of the night with a confession and so much more.

Author's Note: First of all, why are summaries so hard- ugh and I suck at them haha- anyway, I reallllllly loved writing this one. It's their first time together and I wanted it to really feel extra deep- hopefully that comes across. Extra thanks to all the lovely people who have been so kind and supportive with my little stories, I really appreciate you! Thank you all so much for reading and much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you sweet Daisy! 🥰

Warnings: sweet softness, fluff, lots of love, fluffersmut (best way I can describe it haha), lots of feels, love making

Marcus Acacius Masterlist

Pedro Pascal Character Masterlist

The jiggle of the iron lock startles you from your reading and you jump up from your bed and hurry toward the door. You wait, your breath caught in your throat, for a signal.

A book slides under the small space at your feet, stopping when it hits your toe. You bend to pick it up, smiling before pressing it to your chest and quietly unlocking the door.

He has never been to your room, and when he walks in, he barely glances at anything, his eyes trained on you. His hands cradle your face, and he pushes you back toward the wall, his mouth firm on yours.

As gentle as his hands are on your skin there is nothing gentle about his kiss. It’s hard and desperate, a hunger that he can’t seem to satiate.

“Marcus,” you gasp, grabbing his wrists.

His eyes seem to refocus at the call of his name and when you look over his shoulder at the open door, he mutters a curse and quickly walks back to shut and lock it.

In seconds you’re back in his arms, his hands gripping and pulling ineffectually at clothing that is in his way.

“I am sorry my love,” he whispers against your lips. “But it seems you have me losing my mind. I could not wait another second to see you.”

The only light in your room is from the small oil lamp hanging near your bed and it casts a small burst of warm yellow light around the pillows.

He kisses you again then pulls away to watch you walk backward toward your bed.

“Marcus, I…”

“Undress for me.”

You take a deep breath.

Looking down at your clothes you lift shaky hands to your tunic and slowly unwrap it from your shoulder and torso. The linen falls to the floor and you’re left in nothing but your two pieces of underclothing.

“Your nervousness makes me think you do not know that I am in love with you Princess.”

You lift your gaze, eyes wide and hands frozen.

“I love you,” he repeats.

You’re silent as you reach behind you to unravel the linen that covers your breasts. It falls at your feet followed by the fabric you loosen at your hips.

“I love you.”

The words are a whisper on your lips, and he takes a step closer, his dark eyes wandering reverently over every inch of your bare skin.

“And I’m terrified.”

He takes you in his arms, all your softness pressed firmly against the hard lines of his armor.

“I would be lying if I did not say the same,” he murmurs. “I am frightened I put you in danger each time we are together. Frightened that I may not survive your father’s plans and our time together will be far too short.”

You gently touch his face, tracing the outline of his jaw until you find his lips.

“I will not watch you die,” you whisper. “It will not be so.”

Your movements are delicate and slow as you untie the cuirass and remove it from his chest, next pulling the scarf free of his neck.

You press a kiss to his neck and feel him swallow against your lips.

When you have his belt loosened it falls to the floor and you start to lift his tunic, ridding him of the last piece of clothing before looking your fill.

He breathes out your name, his voice shaky with distracted and insatiable desire.

“And I will have you know, Princess, that each and every moment spent loving you have been the greatest I have ever lived.”

And in that instant everything became about the feeling of his mouth on yours, the feeling of his hands on your body, his lips pressing more words of love into your skin. You feel every breath he takes and absorb every sound that leaves his lips.

His mouth grows hungrier and more urgent as he lays you on the bed and moves down your body. Slowly, he presses two fingers inside you and slides his tongue through you. He takes his time, savoring and teasing until you cry out his name.

“You are stunning beyond compare,” he whispers when you’re finally still and he crawls over you. “It is overwhelming how it affects me so.”

You reach up and drag your nails along his chest, grabbing his shoulders and urging him closer and then pushing him back so you can watch when he reaches between your bodies to position himself against you.

“Please” you whisper.

He groans, exhaling as he lowers his body over yours and pushes into you fully. The sensation is blissful. The stretch rides the edge of the most pleasurable pain and the feeling of his skin against yours, his face buried in your neck, and his hair silky between your fingers, is everything all at once.

His hands pull your thighs around his waist and his hips pivot as he moves inside you.

You’re out of words as he rolls you on top of him and he watches your face until it’s too much, too intense, and you’re falling together, your lips pressed to his and his arms keeping you impossibly close.

Marcus is curled up behind you when the sun barely begins to lighten the sky. His hair is rumpled, curls wild as it frames his peaceful expression. He’s hard and pressing into your back, gently rocking his hips, and not saying a single word when he realizes you’re staring.

His hands are calm and deliberate, teasing. He starts to build a slow burn under your skin, kissing you everywhere, touching you just how you want, just how you need. The sun has barely broken the horizon when you collapse together again and fall to sleep.

He stands quietly, crossing the room and retrieving his clothing and armor. Before he’s fully dressed he leans over you and whispers, “my love. I must go,” against the shell of your ear.

Goosebumps break out over your skin, and you stir, mumbling with a stretch.

“I do not want you to go. Ever.”

He braces his hands on either side of your head and hovers above you.

“You are even more gorgeous in the morning light. Did you know that?”

“Yes?” you smile, lifting your hand and brushing your thumb across his bottom lip.

He sucks it into his mouth then releases it to lean down and kiss you. The sounds of a rainstorm begin as water pelts the roof and thunder rumbles in the distance.

Your lips move from his mouth and to his ear. “I am sore but in the best way.”

You rock your hips against his. “I want more.”

“Woman,” he growls. “I will never tire of hearing those words.”

Pushing on his chest, you roll him onto his back. “Do not go Marcus.”

The sheet falls away and he grabs your hips. “I love you,” he whispers. “I will do anything you ask of me.”  You bend down and capture his lips, breathing the same words into his mouth.

@hiddles-rose @blackwidownat2814 @tripletstephaniescp

[rhiannonsknife]

ok ok i will be the one to break the rhiannon/jackie streak, do u have any shauna gf hcs? whether it be pre-crash, during the wilderness, adult shauna?

── .✦ DATING SHAUNA SHIPMAN

— summary: dating shauna shipman pre-crash hcs

— warnings: established, secret relationship. gn!reader. fluff. angsty ending (couldn’t help myself).

— a/n: bless you anon!! my first ever shauna request, we’re breaking the jackie/rhiannon spell!

shauna who always passes you secret notes in class!

you and shauna both pass notes back and forth in class, a quiet, sweet ritual that she never skips, no matter how many times you’ve seen each other that day. sometimes they’re little doodles, other times they’re more vulnerable glimpses of her thoughts and pieces of herself she can’t say out loud. she always finds it easier to write her emotions down, rather than talking about them. you’ve obviously seen the journal she keeps and you know that she will scribble her thoughts down whenever she’s got the chance, whether it’s something insignificant or something that genuinely upsets her. shauna passes you notes in class, talking all about how pretty she thinks you are, and then blushes furiously when you bring it up afterward.

shauna who offers to help you study, but ends up being the biggest distraction

study sessions at the library or one of your bedrooms start off focused, but usually end up with her leaning against you, talking about everything but the assignment. she knows the subject (because, of course, she does) and you -unfortunately- don’t care enough about it to prioritize it over a good conversation with your girlfriend and some quality time. the consequences only catch up with you when exam season is right around the corner, and you spent all your time cuddling in bed or talking about anything but school. then, she really helps you with your schoolwork, staying up late to tutor you and keep you company. “you do the same for me,” she’ll shrug. you would, but you both know damn well you couldn’t if you wanted to.

shauna who secretly loves to show off at soccer practice or an important match.

she’d never admit it but she loves it when you come to practice with her after class, watching her and the other girls from the bleachers. she is obviously focused on the field, yet she always manages to sneak glances your way when she thinks no one’s looking. after a big win, she’ll always run up to you first because she knows you’ll be there, by the sidelines, cheering her and the team on! shauna will ignore the other celebrations, just searching for you to share the victory. a quick, deep hug or a soft kiss behind the bleachers means more to her than the game itself.

shauna who always makes up for having to hide your relationship.

being from a small town with prying eyes, you often have to keep things as lowkey as possible in public, but she makes up for it by being extra affectionate in private. she’ll tuck her head into the crook of your neck, or reach for your hand, as if holding onto you makes her feel more like herself. i think she’s a lot more into physical touch than one would expect, especially when it’s just the two of you together! when you have the rare chance to spend a quiet morning together, she’s extra gentle, lacing her fingers with yours and resting her head on your shoulder. <33

shauna, who shares her plans of a future with no one but you.

not even jackie knows that she’s planning on leaving as soon as anyhow possible. no one but you does. she dreams of getting out of town, and sometimes the two of you will sit in her car, talking for hours about the life you’d build together somewhere far away. especially as graduation gets closer, shauna becomes increasingly restless and quiet whenever the future comes up. one night, she confesses, “everyone keeps talking about college, moving away, and all that, but i just…i don’t know if i’m ready to let go.” she’d look at you, her voice a little shaky. “i mean, what if…what if we don’t see each other as much? what if everything changes?” you’d reassure her: you definitely won’t be the reason she doesn’t get to achieve her dreams.

shauna, who lets you borrow her clothes!!

she loves when you’re stealing your clothes: hoodies, t-shirts, anything you can ‘sneak’ away with. you always return them with the scent of your perfume on them, which might be the reason why shauna likes it so much! also: the first time she sees you wearing her soccer jersey, with her name and number on your back, she is WEAK! she loves lending you her jacket, the kind she’d say she “doesn’t even like” (she wears it all the time) but she’d smile seeing you wearing it, adding quietly, “looks better on you, anyway”

shauna, whose room is dedicated to all the memories you’ve made together.

her walls her plastered with pictures of the two of you and she keeps a small stash of polaroids hidden in one of her drawers: moments she’s captured that no one else knows about. sometimes she’ll get them out and look through them at night, feeling a rare warmth in knowing she has these tiny pieces of happiness all to herself <3

shauna, who calls you at the absolute crack of dawn.

she loves to call you late at night, talking about everything and nothing. her voice gets quieter as she says, “i just like knowing you’re there, you know?” shauna sometimes goes on about jackie, too, mostly because they’re so close and she’s frustrated that her best friend seems to have everything figured out. you’re the only one who knows that her feelings for jackie are complicated -to say the least- and layered, and you do your best to reassure her without jealousy, knowing she chose you for a reason. other times, she’ll literally fall asleep over the phone and you’ll be there to hear the way her breathing grows softer until, eventually, she’s snoring through the receiver.

shauna who is lowkey secretly affectionate!!

she acts so composed around her friends, but in private, shauna’s all about hand holding and little forehead kisses!! also, hugs from behind?? sneaking up on you and then suddenly wrapping her arms around you and peppering the back of your neck in kisses?? and don’t even get me started on the cuddles she gives! she’ll blush and laugh it off, muttering, “you’re making me so soft,” before giving you another kiss anyway or burying herself deeper in the crook of your neck.

shauna, who is also kind of protective over you.

and, honestly, the same goes for you too: at parties, you’re always on edge when you see shauna drinking or getting roped into something reckless. she brushes it off, claiming she’s fine, but you can tell there’s a part of her that’s pushing boundaries to feel something more intense. if anyone even hints at giving you trouble, she’s quick to stand up for you. shauna will always find her ways to make sure you know you’re safe with her, even if it’s just a hand on your back or a quick glare at anyone who looks at you the wrong way. but also!! shauna, who becomes a whole new level of protective when you’re sick! when you come down with a cold, she surprises you by coming over with a bag full of snacks, soup, and a stack of dvds. she tries to play it off casually, saying, “don’t get any ideas! i’m just here to make sure you’re not dying or anything” but, as she settles in beside you, she ends up fussing over you, adjusting your blanket and checking your temperature with the back of her hand.

shauna who absolutely adores it when you run your fingers through her hair.

when things get overwhelming for either of you. shauna loves nothing more than to just sit quietly with you. she doesn’t even need to talk or do anything special, just being with you, feeling your presence, grounds her. but what she loves the most is when you run your hands through her hair, even if she’s shy about asking for it. on bad or stressful days, she’ll lie with her head in your lap, letting your fingers soothe her, the sensation melting away her worries for just a little while.

shauna who annotates her favorite books for you!!

i can’t believe i’m only coming up with this now: she would 100% annotate all of her favorite novels for you, scribbling down her thoughts and highlighting her favorite paragraphs!! if you have to read a book for school that you’re absolutely not interested in, she’d do the same thing for you, trying to make the experience just a little more enjoyable and rewarding for you!! oh reading together?? specifically shauna reading to you while you rest your head in her lap??

shauna who journals about you.

half of her journal entries are about you and your relationship. she keeps little things from your dates, like a movie ticket, a flower you picked for her, or a picture she took of you and collects them between the pages of said journal!!

shauna who, after all of these things, disappears from your life.

not just from your life specifically, but everyone’s. when she tells you about the trip, there’s an unease you can’t shake. you were there when they won states and you know the nationals are next. and still, your intuition tells you that something is wrong. you don’t get a chance to say goodbye the way you want: no real hug, no lingering kiss, just a quick goodbye with friends around. the memory of that rushed, simple parting would haunt you for a long time…

shauna, who has written you letters she never got to give you before the plane crash.

shauna had a habit of writing letters to you late at night, pouring out all her fears, frustrations, and hopes. she’s kept them hidden in a box under her bed, along with the polaroids, convinced she’ll never show them to you. each letter is a reminder of just how much you meant to her, even if she couldn’t always say it aloud. you stumble upon them during the long hours you spent in her room after they go missing and take them home with you. every time, during those months, that you find yourself forgetting the sound of her voice or the words she’d used, you get them out and they’ll bring it all back to you.

[innerfare]

Sanji Fluff // Angst Compilation

Summary: A compilation of Sanji angst and fluff from my multi character posts (You're Wounded, Brushing Your Teeth Together, Flowers, Type of Date, You See His Cabin, Fighting and Making Up, Paradise, Nightmares, I Love You, You're Jealous).

Genre: Fluff // Angst

CW: None // SFW

———

You’re Wounded: 

Fusses over you while you see to your own wound, feels like they dodged a bullet, blames themselves for any harm that comes to you. “Never again,” they promise themself, bringing you a hot cup of tea to soothe you. 

Brushing Your Teeth Together: 

Slings his arm around you, gets a little too distracted by the sight of you brushing your teeth, ends up standing there with his mouth open and his toothbrush hanging out. Ends up speed running his when you’re finished so he can follow you out of the bathroom. 

Flowers: 

Classic red roses, at least a dozen at a time. He’ll buy you roses in shades of white and pink, as well as the occasional yellow, but a dozen red roses is his go to. He also makes very good use of the petals. Doesn’t need a special occasion to present you with a bouquet. In fact, he always makes sure you have fresh flowers on your nightstand. Additionally, he’s learned to cook a few dishes with edible flowers in them for you, presenting you with all manner of chamomile, chive blossom, and pansy dishes. 

Type of Date: 

This man will take you on the best picnic of your life, a picnic so good he’ll have you wondering why you ever thought restaurants were the epitome of fine dining. It won’t just be delicious, it will be an aesthetic dream, with a wicker basket, checkered blanket, and even a small bouquet of flowers in a glass jar. If he takes you on a picnic beneath the stars, he’ll light candles and be sure to have an extra blanket to keep you warm. Oh, and champagne. Definitely will open a bottle of champagne. 

You See His Cabin For The First Time: 

Sparkling clean, and yet, he’ll apologize anyway because the pillows aren’t fluffy enough, the rug isn’t completely straight, etcetera. His closet is very well organized, all of his clothes ironed and properly taken care of (Sanji’s the rare type to actually read labels and do his laundry accordingly). His most prized possession is a book on the All Blue, which he’s poured over countless times, using color coded tabs to flag various pages and writing detailed notes in the margins. He also came across one of Zeff’s old wanted posters in Loguetown, and he keeps it framed next to his own, the closest thing he has to a family photo. 

Fighting and Making Up: 

He’s far too protective over you, and it causes a lot of fights. He treats you like a china doll, and though that can be quite nice at times, he needs to understand you’re not made of glass. Alternatively, he’s the type to get upset with you for being too friendly to other men. There was also a miscommunication where he cooked something you didn’t like and you weren’t exactly gentle in your reaction to it, you thinking he already knew you didn’t like that thing when he didn’t actually know, him thinking you had an issue with his cooking and not an issue with one of the ingredients. He’s the type to bring you flowers even if you were in the wrong in order to jumpstart the making up process. Your fights never last long because Sanji can’t sleep, can’t eat, can barely even pull himself out of bed if the two of you are on the outs (early childhood trauma can be that way). 

Paradise 1: 

Wandering through a flower field and picking some of the more beautiful blooms that catch your eye, sprawling out on a picnic blanket in the late morning to bask in the sweet scent, enjoying the breeze as it ruffles your hair, weaving some of the flowers you picked into a delicate crown that they wear proudly while the two of you share sweet kisses. 

Paradise 2: 

Waiting until late evening to meet beneath a peach tree, speaking at first in hushed tones, worrying someone is on to the two of you, eventually forgetting about all of that and settling into easy conversation about nothing and everything simultaneously, him jumping up to pick a peach for you to have as an evening snack, you taking advantage of the last bit of light to carve both of your initials into the tree trunk. 

Nightmares: 

You’re in the clutches of his brothers while his father watches on in approval, and he’s trying to save you but to no avail. Suddenly, he’s seven years old again- too small, too slow, too weak to put up a fight, completely at the mercy of his brothers. Only, they aren’t tormenting him, they’re tormenting you, and from the looks on their faces, they sure are enjoying it. The look on your face, though, is one of complete anguish. And then you scream in pain, and he’s awake again, sitting up in bed with a sheen of sweat on his skin, the image of your face in such pain burned into his brain. He doesn’t register that it was only a nightmare until he puts eyes on you, and even then, it takes him several days to recover from the nightmare. 

I Love You: 

Sanji technically confesses first, but you’re the one who actually says those three words. He’s holding your hand in both of his, clutching it close to his racing heart, as he looks down at you, telling you all the ways you make his life better, all the things he’s looking forward to doing with you, all the energy he’s going to put into keeping you happy, healthy, and safe. And the words just sort of fall from your lips. He stops mid sentence, eyes wide and mouth open. The seconds drag on in silence before he’s pulling your lips to his. Both of you are very generous with these three words, saying them often and in public. If you ever hang up the transponder snail without telling him you love him, he’s calling you right back to make sure everything is alright. (Also, not really relevant, might do a separate post about this, but Sanji is definitely a heart-shaped jewelry sort of guy. He just is. Certified lover boy.) 

You’re Jealous: 

Even with a third eye, Pudding is stunning. And Sanji almost married her. It was before you two were together, but listening to the stories from Whole Cake, hearing how close he came to marrying another woman, knowing she really did fall in love with his kind heart and wonderful cooking, turns you into a little green monster. You know you shouldn’t feel jealous of a woman you’ve never met before, a woman Sanji chose not to marry, but you can’t help it. Sanji is completely shocked that you would feel jealous over his relationship (if it could even be called that) with Pudding, though after thinking about it some more, he does realize why you might be jealous that he had a fiancé. His solution is to bring you a bouquet of roses and walk you through the dark details of his life, telling you things he’s never outright told anyone, so you understand the special place you have in his life. 

———

Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!

[kingofbodyrolls]

Friendcation: baby special (m) | myg

*this is a re-upload since I deleted my old account 🫣

Yoongi spends time with your daughter.

→ Pairing: mechanic!Yoongi x reader (female) → AUs: roadtrip!au, non idol!au, established relationship, mechanic!Yoongi, dad!Yoongi, married!au → Genres: slice of life, humor/crack and so much fucking fluff → Rating: mature/explicit/R18 (this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact.) → Word count: 3.5k → Warnings (explicit): this is just pure fluff, so nothing smutty in this one! But there’s mention of pussy, if that is a warning? I swear, it’s just funny, sweet and lovely 🥹 → Author’s note: the last extra for friendcation that I’ve planned 🥳 I don’t think I’ll write more for this series/couple so please consider this officially completed (but you never know, lol). But I really don’t know what more I could add to this. I hope you enjoy this one too! 💜 And thank you all so fucking much; thank you for reading, commenting, reviewing, reblogging—everything means so much to me, you truly don’t know. Knowing what you think, and that you like reading my stories matters a lot to me, and essentially that is what keeps me going (especially when I’m struggling). So thank you 🫂 → Read on AO3? [link] ✨

navi: [s.masterlist] | [m.masterlist] | ← prev |

The gentle patter of tiny feet echoes through his dreams, a soft cadence pulling him from the depths of sleep. Not fully awake, yet not entirely asleep, he hovers on the fragile edge of consciousness. The sound of those footsteps—familiar, beloved—grows louder, closer, until a tender warmth touches his cheek.

“Daddy! Daddy! Wakey, wakey!” Mee-Yon’s voice bursts with joy, her excitement bubbling over as she bounces on the balls of her feet, her laughter a melody that could rouse the sun itself. 

He groans, stretching the stiffness from his body as the couch protests beneath him. Slowly, he opens his eyes, and there she is—his daughter, beaming down at him with a grin so pure it melts away any lingering weariness. How could he be upset when faced with such a sight? That tiny, radiant face is too full of life, too full of love.

“Hm?” he groans again, as Mee-Yon’s tiny fingers press against his cheeks, her eyes wide and insistent, sparkling with the boundless energy only a three-year-old could possess. She bounces still, a little ball of endless enthusiasm, and he marvels at how so much vigor can be contained in such a small body.

“Uncle Minnie is here,” she announces, her voice dropping just slightly, though no less vibrant, as if she’s sharing a grand secret. Her eyes shine with excitement, practically glittering—no, bursting with rainbows, if only this were a cartoon. And in this moment, he thinks, maybe he’s been watching too many cartoons lately, breathing in too much of that magic.

“He is?” he murmurs, running a hand through his dark hair, now cropped shorter than usual—a change he knows you’ll notice. He remembers how you prefer it longer, but for now, this is how it is.

“Mhm,” Mee-Yon confirms with a dramatic little stance, hands on her hips. That flair for the dramatic—definitely not something she got from him. Him, dramatic? Never.

He chuckles, gently patting her head, his fingers tracing through her soft hair that hasn’t yet been tamed into the neat bun she usually wears. Should he tie it up? He hesitates, knowing she’ll just pull it out moments after he’s finished.

Looking up, he sees Jimin standing in the doorway, a soft smile on his face as he watches Mee-Yon with an adoration so profound it almost makes the room glow. Jimin, the ever-dedicated godfather, has taken his role to heart, showering her with a love so abundant it spills over, warming the whole house. He spoils her endlessly, and though he’d never admit it, he’s grateful for it. It’s nice. It’s more than nice. It’s love, in its purest form.

“MINNIE!” Mee-Yon cries out, spinning on her heel to race toward Jimin, arms flung wide. He scoops her up effortlessly, lifting her high into the air, the room filling with the sound of her gleeful giggles and his playful airplane noises. As his arms tire, he lowers her gently to the ground, and she wraps herself around his legs, claiming him with a possessive “Mine.”

Jimin grins, glancing over at him. “I see she’s as possessive as you,” he teases, and Yoongi responds with a playful scoff, rolling his eyes in mock exasperation. But deep down, his heart swells, knowing these moments—these precious, fleeting moments—are what make everything worthwhile.

He rises from the couch, stretching the remnants of sleep from his limbs, and finally, the sweet, intoxicating aroma of dinner weaves its way to him, causing his stomach to rumble in anticipation. The scent is warm, rich, filled with love, and it beckons him forward like a siren’s call.

As he moves past Mee-Yon and Jimin, their laughter like a soft melody in the background, he follows the trail of that delicious fragrance into the kitchen. There you are, immersed in the ritual of cooking, your focus entirely on the simmering pans before you. You’re making dinner—far more than necessary, as always, though tonight it’s just you, Yoongi, Jimin, and little Mee-Yon. But since becoming a mother, you’ve taken to preparing meals that last for days, an act of foresight that saves time and allows for more precious moments together. He loves this about you, this quiet efficiency that carves out more space for family, more time to bask in the warmth of togetherness.

You haven’t noticed him yet, lost in the rhythm of your work, the soft sizzle of the stove and the gentle clatter of utensils. He knows better than to startle you, aware of the way you lose yourself in the dance of cooking. So he deliberately makes his steps audible, the floor creaking underfoot as he approaches. “Smells nice,” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble as he slides his arms around your waist from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“Yoon,” you sigh, your voice dripping with affection as you lean into him, and he presses a tender kiss to the curve of your ear. He can feel you melt under his touch, the way your body instinctively relaxes into his, a soft giggle escaping your lips—music to his ears. He lives for these sounds, the small, intimate noises you make, even the ones in your sleep that pull him from his dreams but awaken something else within him, something that fills him with love and desire.

His fingers trace gentle patterns on your skin, lifting the edge of your blouse to feel the warmth of you beneath his hands. His calloused fingers draw circles, savoring the softness of your flesh. You moan softly, your body swaying slightly as if moved by an invisible melody, a song only the two of you can hear. His hands drift lower, brushing your hip, pausing as if savoring the moment.

“Dinner! Dinner!” Mee-Yon’s excited shout rings out behind you, shattering the tender moment with her boundless energy. He can’t help but chuckle as he turns to see her cradled in Jimin’s arms, her little face glowing with joy.

“You know she can walk, right?” he teases, grinning at the pair of them.

“Yeah, but this is more fun,” Jimin replies, bouncing her gently, drawing out another round of her infectious laughter.

“You’re spoiling her too much,” you chide playfully, turning off the stove and casting Jimin a mock death stare, your eyes twinkling with mischief.

“I have to stay her favorite uncle,” Jimin retorts with a carefree shrug, his smile widening as he carries Mee-Yon over to the table, already set and waiting. Mee-Yon giggles, sticking her tongue out at you, and in that moment, the room is filled with warmth—a perfect snapshot of love, laughter, and family.

Yoongi can’t help but smile, knowing that none of your other friends stand a chance at becoming Mee-Yon’s favorite—not with the way Jimin spoils her, showering her with endless affection. There’s something special between them, an unspoken bond that binds them closer than the rest. Mee-Yon seems to naturally gravitate toward Jimin, drawn to his playful spirit and gentle heart.

Of course, she enjoys the company of the others too. She adores playing with Seokjin’s kids and his wife, their home a haven of laughter and warmth. Jungkook, with his eternal boyishness, is always ready to dive into whatever adventure Mee-Yon dreams up, his energy a perfect match for her wild imagination. She lights up when Namjoon reads her stories, his deep voice weaving tales that captivate her young mind. Once, when Namjoon’s girlfriend was over, her belly round with the promise of new life, Mee-Yon innocently asked how babies were made. Yoongi was relieved not to be on the receiving end of that question, watching with a mix of amusement and sympathy as Namjoon fumbled for the right words—balancing truth with tact.

Then there’s Taehyung, who spoils her with gifts from his travels as a photographer, bringing the world to her in the form of exotic trinkets and stories that transport her to far-off lands. Each friend brings something unique into Mee-Yon’s life, and while they all have their place in her heart, it’s Jimin who holds the brightest spot.

“Dinner’s ready,” you call out, wiping the sheen of sweat from your brow, a testament to the steam rising from the pots on the stove. The meal is a labor of love, and as you all gather around the table, it’s no surprise that Mee-Yon instinctively takes her place next to Jimin.

The first bite is met with murmurs of approval. “It’s so good,” Jimin exclaims, and Yoongi nods in agreement, his eyes catching the soft blush that spreads across your cheeks. He knows how you are with compliments, especially about cooking—something you usually leave to him. But tonight, you’ve outdone yourself, and it’s clear that your efforts have not gone unnoticed.

Then, out of nowhere, Mee-Yon’s small voice cuts through the comfortable silence like a bolt of lightning. “Vagina!” she shouts, slamming her tiny hands on the table for emphasis. “Vagina!” 

All eyes snap to her in stunned disbelief, the room frozen in a moment that feels suspended in time. Yoongi isn’t sure if he heard his daughter correctly, but as she repeats the word with gleeful abandon, there’s no mistaking it. Your gaze darts frantically between Jimin and Yoongi, as if deciding who to unleash your wrath upon. Fortunately, Jimin ends up as the target.

“What the fuck did you teach my daughter?” you demand, your voice trembling with incredulity and a hint of anger. Yoongi, relieved not to be in the line of fire, watches as Jimin blinks back at you, utterly bewildered.

“What?” Jimin stammers, shaking his head in denial. “I didn’t teach her that! She must have picked it up at daycare,” he says, his tone calm but defensive, trying to deflect the blame.

Yoongi, ever the realist, can’t help but let a remark slip, one that’s more truth than tact. “Just be glad she didn’t say pussy.”

You sigh, a mix of exasperation and reluctant acceptance, realizing that he has a point. Better to let it go, not to give Mee-Yon’s newfound vocabulary too much attention. After all, the more focus you put on it, the more she’ll repeat it, and there’s no need to make a spectacle out of a word that, to her, is just another part of the world she’s discovering.

“Pussy! Pussy! Pussy!” Mee-Yon’s voice rings out with glee, her innocent delight filling the room as she proudly chants the forbidden word. Your stern gaze snaps to Yoongi, and in that instant, he knows he’s made fucked up. The realization hits him like a wave, and the weight of it is evident in his sheepish expression. “You taught her to say pussy. Why would you do that, Yoon?” you groan, frustration lacing your voice, a trace of self-doubt creeping in as you wonder if this makes you a bad mother. But Yoongi knows better—shit happens, and he reckons this isn’t the worst thing she could have picked up. After all, with the amount of time she spends with Jimin and Jungkook, he’s surprised this is the first explicit word to slip out.

“Peeing from my pussy!” she sing-songs with abandon, and you all groan in unison, only for the tension to break as laughter bubbles up, impossible to hold back. It’s bad, he knows it, but it’s also undeniably funny and, in a way, just a little bit cute. 

Mee-Yon soon loses interest in the word, her attention drifting as she begins to babble a stream of playful nonsense, her laughter joining yours in a chorus that fills the house with warmth. As the evening settles into a comfortable rhythm, Yoongi helps clean up while Jimin entertains Mee-Yon in the living room, the sound of their laughter echoing through the walls. He silently hopes Jimin isn’t teaching her any new vocabulary, knowing full well that the daycare likely isn’t to blame for this latest outburst.

Later, Jimin takes on the task of putting Mee-Yon to bed—a routine she seems to prefer whenever he’s around. Neither you nor Yoongi mind, as it offers you a rare moment of peace, a chance to sit together in quiet companionship while Jimin’s gentle voice carries through the door, reading her a bedtime story. When he emerges, his face softened by a tender smile, he bids you both goodnight and slips away into the night. It’s late, and Yoongi can’t help but curse the fatigue that overtook him earlier, leaving him to doze off on the couch. 

He’s been working more than usual lately, picking up the slack as you scale back your hours, determined to keep your finances steady. He doesn’t mind, knowing this is just a season of life, a phase that will pass. There may come a time when you’ll work more hours again, and he can step back. What he truly appreciates is the flexibility you both have in your work—his garage at home, a sanctuary where he can manage his own time, and your ability to work from home, offering you a reprieve from the relentless stress of your marketing job and the demands of your boss.

Tonight, though, you’re both too exhausted to stay up, even though the allure of a new K-drama tugs at your thoughts. Yoongi knows better—you’ll both likely fall asleep on the couch, and while it’s sleep, it’s not the restful kind. Better to retreat to the comfort of your bed, where real rest awaits.

So that’s what you do, slipping into a simple nighttime routine, brushing teeth, and taking care of your skin before crawling under the covers. Yoongi loves these moments, spooning you for the warmth and comfort it brings, not just for the obvious reasons but for the pure joy of being close to you. He nestles into your neck, breathing in your natural, sweet, and earthy scent—a fragrance that grounds him, that makes everything else fade away.

He doesn’t know how much time passes before he’s jolted awake by Mee-Yon’s piercing scream. His heart races, the familiar surge of fear gripping him—always worried that something terrible has happened. But as he listens, he realizes it’s likely another night terror. With swift, practiced movements, he’s out of bed and crossing the short distance to her room, just opposite yours. 

The room is bathed in the soft glow of a unicorn night lamp, casting gentle shadows on the walls. The rest is cloaked in darkness, except for the faint hum of white noise playing in the background, a melody that usually soothes her into sleep and keeps her there through the night. But not tonight. Her screams persist, shrill and heart-wrenching, as he approaches her bed. She’s calling for you, her mother, her small body trembling in the dim light.

“Mom! Mom! Mommy!” Mee-Yon’s cries pierce the quiet night, her voice tinged with distress as her tiny body thrashes beneath the sheets. Her eyes remain tightly shut, yet it’s as if she’s caught in a battle with unseen phantoms, lost in the throes of a bad dream. Yoongi’s heart aches at the sight, a deep, primal need to protect his daughter surging within him. 

“Mee-Yon,” he whispers, his voice soft as a lullaby, “it’s okay, sweetheart.” But his words are like echoes in a canyon, powerless against the storm of her nightmare. She continues to scream, panic tightening her small frame, and Yoongi feels a pang of helplessness. He hates seeing her like this, hates that there’s nothing he can do but wait it out, knowing it’s just a part of her growth, an inevitable phase that will pass. Yet that knowledge doesn’t ease the knot in his chest.

He places a gentle hand on her stomach, feeling the rapid rise and fall of her frantic breaths. “Mee-Yon,” he calls out again, a bit more urgently, but she’s still far away, lost in the dark corners of her dream. Then, suddenly, she stirs, her tiny body moving in fits and starts until she sits up, her eyes still closed, arms reaching skyward as if begging to be held. 

“Mommy,” she whimpers, her voice a broken cry, and Yoongi’s heart twists in response. “It’s Dad,” he says softly, reaching for her, lifting her delicate frame into his arms. “I’m here. It’s okay.” 

“Daddy,” she murmurs, still caught between sleep and waking, her small arms wrapping tightly around his neck. For a moment, Yoongi just stands there, holding her close, unsure of what to do but knowing he can’t leave her alone. He knows the experts say it’s not ideal for her to sleep in their bed, but sometimes, practicality takes a back seat to love and the desperate need for rest. Nothing has ever gone wrong before, but there’s always a flicker of fear that lingers in the back of his mind, the thought that one of them might roll over her in their sleep. Thankfully, that has never happened, and they are super careful.

With gentle care, he carries her into your bedroom, placing her tenderly between the two of you. He tucks the duvet around her, ensuring she’s warm and secure, then arranges her favorite bunny plushie—Jungkook’s sweet gift—beside her. The tension in her small body slowly ebbs away, replaced by the soft, rhythmic sounds of her breathing as she finally begins to relax. Mee-Yon snuggles closer to him, her little form instinctively seeking his warmth, and Yoongi wraps an arm around her, holding her protectively, careful not to press too hard. Her heartbeat, still quick but steadying, pulses against his chest, and with that comforting rhythm, he drifts into sleep.

His dreams are light and whimsical—cotton candy clouds, pink skies, and the sensation of soaring on the back of a white and blue pegasus. But his slumber is interrupted by the sharp prod of a tiny foot to his face. With a groan, he tries to nudge the offending limb away, slowly opening his eyes to find Mee-Yon sprawled across the bed, her feet in his face and her small hands clutching your waist. Despite the rude awakening, Yoongi can’t be mad—how could he be, when his daughter is so undeniably adorable?

You catch his gaze, your hand gently caressing Mee-Yon’s back, and without a word, you communicate a world of emotion. Words aren’t needed between the two of you anymore; the years have woven a deep understanding, a silent language spoken through glances and touches. He reads you like a well-loved book, its spine softened by countless readings, and in your eyes, he sees the depth of your love for him and your daughter, the way you cherish these fleeting moments of family life.

As Mee-Yon stirs awake, she wraps her arms around both of you, pressing soft kisses to your cheeks. Yoongi’s heart swells with joy, savoring this precious moment he wishes could last forever. Life with a three-year-old is a rollercoaster, equal parts delightful and exhausting. Yoongi’s patience, his temper, and his love are tested daily, but he wouldn’t trade this for anything. Mee-Yon has a knack for pushing his limits, as all children do, keeping him on his toes with her boundless energy and curiosity.

But it’s these moments he treasures the most—the time spent together as a family, whether on picnics, trips to the zoo, or simple walks in nature. Teaching Mee-Yon to ride a bike, watching her little legs pedal with determination, fills him with pride. He loves witnessing her growth, her wit, and her ever-present cuteness. There’s never enough time to soak it all in.

On a crisp autumn day, Yoongi finds himself in the garage, working on a customer’s car, with Mee-Yon by his side. She loves being there with him, her curiosity as vast as the sky, her eyes wide with wonder at the sight of tools and car parts. He explains everything to her, pointing out the coils, tubes, and wheels that make the car run. His hands are stained with oil, but Mee-Yon doesn’t mind; she grabs his hand, her own tiny fingers getting smudged as she points at something.

“What’s this, Dad?” she asks, her voice full of earnest curiosity.

He grins, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “That’s the battery,” he explains, “the heart that keeps the car alive.”

She hums thoughtfully, turning her hand over to inspect the oily smudges. “Dirty,” she declares, but there’s no disgust, only fascination.

“Yeah, that’s oil,” he says, reaching for an old rag to wipe her hands, though it doesn’t do much to clean them. Maybe it’s time for some new rags in the garage.

“Like paint,” she giggles, her fingers now exploring every surface under the hood, leaving tiny handprints on every rube and rusty surface.

Yoongi chuckles, unable to resist her infectious joy. “Daddy?” she calls, looking up at him with a bright, mischievous smile.

He kneels down to her level, ruffling her hair with a fond laugh. She giggles and cups his cheeks with her small, oily hands. “Love you, Daddy. You my best friend.”

He doesn’t care that his face is now smudged with oil; he just pulls her into a warm embrace, holding her close. “I love you too, Mee-Yon,” he murmurs, his heart full to bursting.

→ Author’s endnote: Thank you so much for joining me on this wild ride that friendcation has been! And can you believe it’s been over a year since I first published this??? It’s so crazy. I’m so happy that so many people love it, and still read it. Truly, it means the world to me 🫂✨

→ Series taglist: @idkjustlovingbts @constancelayon @wobblewobble822 @ktownshizzle @moonchild1 @ultimatefangirl0 @baechugff @jimintaemin @parapiop7 @fckkntired @iluvfndms @citypop-princess @tarahardcore @bergandysam @massivelyfullenthusiast @tatyhend @gimeow

→ Permanent taglist: @nora12379 @jeonsbabygirlsworld @fancypeacepersona @ktownshizzle @pjmxxjm @ajoonniice @kookiewithluv @mikrokookiex @rapmonjoon94 @parkitrighthere

© @/kingofbodyrolls 2024 // Please don’t copy or repost! You are more than welcome to reblog it, leave a comment or ask me anything about the story 🥰

[thesassypadawan]

Dancing In The Moonlight (A.J. x GFReader)

Summary:  It’s tradition…  The two of you poolside…a bottle of something sweet and strong (just like your man)…while listening to all those old, cheesy songs he loves…  That’s just how you celebrate another successful job…

Warnings: 18+ (mdni), because there’s sooo much of the smut.  Fun from behind, pool smex, brief appearance of hat, and… A.J.’s big, fat dick.

Notes: A little something for a lovely anon! It was truly a pleasure to write this! I'm sorry it took more than a hot minute to get this done, but I wanted to put all the extra love into this! I had a lot of fun with it, cannot not emphasize that enough!  Hope you like it and to see more of your lovely requests in my inbox! 💗

- Dancing in the moonlight...  Everybody's feelin' warm and bright…

- The familiar tune pours out from the open patio door.  Floating on the crisp night air.  Creating the perfect tone for a romantic, moonlit evening.  All that’s missing was your ‘partner in crime’.

- Checking your phone for what easily had to be the tenth time in the last hour, a slight frown crosses your face…no new messages.  “Where are you, Jay?”  You sigh softly to yourself, resting your chin on top of your folded arms…gazing up at the stars.

- This had always been your little tradition.  The two of you celebrating poolside.  Listening to his favorite songs.  Sharing a drink or two of something of his choice.  Helping him ‘unwind’ after another successful job…your frown turned up into a wicked grin.

- So consumed by your own thoughts you don’t register the sound of a soft splash, a voice calling to you.  Until small waves lap gently at, firm chest presses against your back.  And an arm reaches past you, setting an amber colored bottle and his hat beside the pair of empty glasses.   “Sorry, doll, that took longer than I wanted.”

- Humming, you practically melt into him.  Head lazily tilting to the side…eyeing up the spirit he brought.  “Strong stuff.  Must have been a rough one.”

- Hand comes to rest on your hip, giving it an affectionate squeeze.  While long fingers push your hair to the side.  Lips brush your neck; peppers your skin with tender kisses.  Low, gravelly voice mutters.  “Yeah.  Don’t wanna talk about it.  Just wanna relax…enjoy ya.”

- “Mmmh…”  You coo, a thrill coursing through you.  As you shift forward, hands grasping at the towel below.  Legs spreading apart, hips wiggling in invitation.  “Think I can manage that…”

- Teeth ghost over, nibble the shell of your ear.  “Figured ya could…”  Big hands pull on your waist, urges you up on your tiptoes.  “Always so good for me…”  Fat tip prods at your bare cheeks, teases at your folds.  “Treatin’ me right…”

- Mouth falls open, breathy moan slips out.  “Because you deserve it…would do anything for you.”  Upper body rises up, intent on thrusting yourself onto his throbbing length.  But…

- Calloused fingertips trail, grasp the back of your neck.  “I got it.”  Softly pressing you down, keeping you in place.  Pushing himself into your tight cunt, achingly slow.  “Don’t have to rush.”

- Bottoming out, hips flush with yours.  A.J stays buried deep within, not moving.  Tracing faint patterns, placing tender kisses along your spine…leaving goosebumps behind in their wake.  “We got all night, sweetheart.”

- “I know, but been waiting on you for week.”  Tightening from his sweet, gentle treatment.  Tiny gasps, little mewls spill from your lips.  As the burning desire inside you only grows stronger, more desperate for him to…  “Need you.  Need to feel you.  Need you to move.  Please.”

- “Mmmh, since ya asked so nicely.”  One last searing kiss between your shoulder blades and his hips begin to rock, roll.  Moving at a sensual, almost torturous pace that has your mind thrumming in pleasure.  Fingers weakly clutching at the towel; pussy fluttering, clenching hard around him.

- “Fuck.”  Lightly squeezing your nape before mapping a path up your thigh.  Dipping inwards; teasing, grazing…circling your neglected nub.  Groaning when he hears your low, needy whine.  “Weren’t kiddin’, were ya?”

- “No,” you hiccup, sigh.  Feeling his full weight press down on, pins your smaller body against the edge.  While he surges forward, somehow sinks his cock further into your warmth.  That familiar coil in your stomach wound taut, that molten pleasure pooling in its pit.  “Always need…always want…always miss you.”

- Increasing his speed slightly; the waves swell larger, lap louder.  “Good to know.”  Fingers swirl your clit faster, tug on it a bit rougher.  “Means you’ll be waitin’ here for me…every time.”

- Breaths come out in soft pants; wispy puffs of air merging together, rising up towards the starry sky.  “Ready to celebrate…”  Bodies trembling from the cool breeze, from the raw intimacy that’s easily and oh so quickly overtaken you both.  “Savor the moment…”

- Burying himself one last time, you spill over the edge together.  Him throbbing and twitching, stuffing you to the brim.  You clamping down, milking him for every last drop of that delicious heat. 

- And as A.J. showers you with words of admiration, loving praises.  Sways slowly, back and forth with you to the music.  Staying connected.  You know that you two will sip on another drink…dance to another song in…

- It's such a fine and natural sight…  Everybody's dancing in the moonlight…

Tag List: @espinathena-17, @myheartwillgoon2022, @laylaplease, @princessswifie, @kenobiskywalker16, @loverforoldermen, @lotte08, @rafeswifeyy2, @exsamlockwood-kate, @sythethecarrot, @fuckmyskywalker, @everydaydreamer, @jediavengers, @anisangeldust, @fredswrite, @xhunnybeeex, @vaderswifey, @adorbzliz, @lesnby23, @starsoldier077, @thesilentreaderrrrr, @khoatic-with-no-energy, @poppysunderthestars, @maggyskywalker, @gracescorner, @onlygoodatbeingbad, @lulu-lux, @bigaoibhe2024, @miumia, @moonlxght-tyler, @juli007, @chrismus48978731689, @dietcoke-lover, @polly-xo, @eviekj, @cocobear18, @anonymous1996s, @coooooooooochie, @anthonyromero45566, @bladeloverblog, @jarofer, @olivia82827jsnms, @jaynech028, @arabellaamore, @supernatural-lover, @niyahnotnia, @peyton3328, @ethere4lbts, @jasperanddaisy, @lachimolalaloveeeeee, @sold1erboy, @generalgalaxyfury, @t-bag2, @ttdrake, @gardenfairy-33, @jameskellysgirl, @maddis0n4, @war-and-chaos, @slutforoldermen, @oneaftertheotherone, @cherryhwaa

[punkypiscesell-writes]

when it comes without a warning - ch. 2

previous chapter

Javier Peña x plus size f! reader

summary: first dates and revelations.

tags (updated after each chapter): fake dating AU, strangers to lovers, romcom, 90’s vibes, angst, small town dynamics, casual sexism, slow burn, pining, insecurities, drinking, smoking, food related descriptions, mentions of family, innocent touching, flirting. The picture in the header is just for the visual and isn't an indication of the reader's skin color. Not beta read.

word count: 22k

notes: Hello and happy spring!! Firstly, thank you if you’re keeping up with this fic even after my inactivity here. It means the world to me. If you’re following this fic and have followed me bc of it, have reblogged the previous chapters, or have commented, please know I’ve seen your lovely messages and reactions. My ADHD has been ADHD'ing pretty hard these past couple of months and I've been dealing with a lot of overwhelming feelings. Even though I haven't answered you personally yet, just know that I’ve seen your feedback and I appreciate every single one you who has been reading this story so far. I will eventually answer you all. Thank you for the patience and I hope you'll enjoy this extra long chapter <3

dividers by cafekitsune

The knot under your shoulder blade throbs as you listen to Abigail speak. She has a thick folder open against her thighs, the front cover reading ‘wedding inspiration’ written in swoopy cursive. There’s everything from pictures to pieces of fabrics and laces, writing here and there, post-it notes in different neon colors, and paint sample cards glued on the pages to indicate the theme for each section.

The different tabs on the edges of different pages are already worn out, telling you that this folder isn’t new but well-loved and thoughtfully collected. She flips through each spread effortlessly, going back to the tabs to find a specific flower and table setting style that should inspire you to create a cake fitting for whatever she wants.

Your pen presses against the notebook in your own lap, ‘Abigail and Noah’s wedding’ written neatly on the top of the page. You already drew a couple of drawings for possible cake designs and decorations after Abigail showed you pictures of buttercream roses and tall and wide five-tier wedding cakes.

“They’re just for inspiration, focus on the details here,” she traced her finger against the glossy, thick paper and you looked at the white frosting and the style the ribbons had been piped on the cake.

Under the pictures in your notebook, you’ve written down questions about the flavors and wishes they have for the cake. After all, it’s an important part of the reception. So far, you’ve managed to figure out the general style and some color options yet haven’t found answers to any of the other questions you have asked Abigail. She’s so excited about the possibilities that it’s almost overwhelming to go through them all.

“There was this lemon and raspberry tart,” she starts, her wistful eyes looking towards the patio doors.  “We had it when we were in Laredo. Noah had some business meetings there and I wanted to join him.” She smiles at you, her thoughts in that moment between her and her future husband. “It was like biting into a cloud. It was so light, but creamy and just melted in my mouth. The lemon was so tart in the custard, it was almost like a spritz of fresh lemon juice that just burst with flavors when I took a bite. And the raspberries were as fresh as they come. They were sweet and gentle, almost soft in how they tasted.” She opens a new page from her binder and shows you pictures of different types of lemon and raspberry tarts. She pushes it towards you for you to see all kinds of desserts with the same concept. Your mouth waters even thinking about the tart she’s describing.

“You know, when I sat with him and we shared that tart, I think it was just a normal workday too, nothing special, and suddenly I knew that I could marry him. We had been together for a couple of years by then, but I had never really seen him as husband material.” Abigail looks almost incredulous as she tells you how she felt in that moment. “I had always imagined marrying someone who isn’t like Noah and suddenly I just kinda knew I could marry him too. That he is someone who I could imagine the rest of my life with.” There’s a bittersweet undertone in her words, unbelieving how she came to understand her feelings and wants for her future. Just a random day like any other and there Abigail was having dessert with her boyfriend and everything changed. You would probably reminisce at that time the same way she does.

 You write down a short description for the flavors and why they’re important.

Abigail’s mom comes back into the wood toned living room that is now tinted gray. It’s one of those cooler, humid days when rain falls steadily from the sky. She’s carrying a hefty pile of bridal magazines in her arms and her footsteps write a rhythm for the constant downpour that hums against the roof.

“Okay, so,” Abigail begins with her excited voice that reminds you of blowing bubblegum bubbles and popping them against your lips.  Your focus shifts back to her immediately. “You know how much I love peppermint, Noah loves oranges and we’re both obsessed with that chocolate cake you sell every Christmas time?” Abigail demands you answer her rhetorical question with a nod that mirrors hers. “We want an orange peppermint chocolate cake!” Abigail’s sweet smile is a little too sweet considering what you just heard.

The flavor combinations draw all the moisture from your mouth and sour in the back of your tongue. Her eyes get that Abigail-like innocence in them again, bordering on forcing you to accept her suggestion without questions. The knot in your upper back burns and your knowledge is screaming at you to speak up.

“I haven’t heard anyone using peppermint and orange together with chocolate before.” Abigail’s face drops immediately. “Maybe I could find a way to combine them in the decorations? Fresh mint leaves and candied orange would look beautiful together. The cake could still be chocolate. The color options are great too, we can use something natural, white chocolate, or even dark chocolate. It’s also easy to use colorings to make it exactly as you wish.” Your voice is soft as you try to gently let her down and urge her to find a more palatable cake.

“We’d appreciate if something would also taste like orange and peppermint, we don’t want a cake that is like cardboard after all,” she giggles and you smile with her, unsure about why you’re smiling after hearing her backhanded remark. Does she think your cakes taste like cardboard? You can’t fixate on that right now.

How on earth are you going to make it all work if she insists on this one specific cake? Abigail’s mom flips through the pages of one of the bridal magazines with carton thick covers. She’s looking for something, trying to decipher the writing on post-it notes riddling the edges of the pages.

You turn your focus on the notebook in your lap. You don’t want to write the words down under each other, but you do; peppermint, orange, chocolate. Maybe you just have to follow her wishes and make a cake like any other. Let her taste what it’s all like together. Or maybe, just maybe, you’ll make the flavors work like never before.

“I could make orange chocolate and peppermint chocolate cakes. They’d look identical of course, but that way the flavor profiles will be a bit more agreeable, and they might also work better together that way.” You turn your notebook to Abigail and quickly draw a two-tier cake, separated by arrows that point to the words you’ve scribbled down.

“The problem is that we want a three-tier cake and all of them have to be similar by looks and how they taste.” There’s an edge in Abigail’s tone.

“Sweetheart,” her mom sounds calm. Her presence is like a balm not only for the bride’s stress but also for the static in the air between you and your longtime friend. You didn’t think she was really listening to your conversation, only preoccupied by the magazines, as she opens a new one on a spread with aesthetically pleasing pictures of table settings.

“She has been baking cakes for years now, you have to trust her when she says something doesn’t work. You want the day to be perfect, don’t you, pumpkin?” She brushes her daughter’s hair behind her ear. Abigail sighs, and it draws all tension out from her shoulders.

“Then let her come up with the cake. You’ve given her a lot of inspiration already.” Abigail’s mom nods at you in a way that reminds you of your own mom. When she’d know something everyone else also knew, but she still managed to make it seem like a secret that only you had the privilege of realizing.

“Yeah, okay, you’re right. Professionally, what do you think could work then?” Abigail softens. Her mom smiles and gets back to the magazine in her hands.  

“You said something about cream being one of the main colors?” She hums in agreement. “What if the cakes had white chocolate butter cream? I could look into making a Swiss meringue buttercream as well if you’re not into the idea of white chocolate, and the decorations could include orange slices in some form and mint leaves?” The ideas come to you fast, a steady stream of possibilities.

“It could also be a dark chocolate cake with a bourbon and orange syrup that could highlight the orange flavor?” You have to write it down. Abigail reaches for something on the table, a post-it note and a pen, to write your suggestions down into her folder.

“If you really want the cakes to taste like oranges and peppermint and chocolate, I will try to make it work but I can’t make any promises of it working out well. For the tasting I’ll make a few different versions that you can choose from.” Saying it all out loud starts a checklist in your head that you try to write down as fast as possible, in an effort to not forget anything.

The few things you wrote about the memory Abigail shared earlier peeks out under your thumb when you’re about to turn the page. “You didn’t ask for it, but can I make something with lemon and raspberries?” You suggest. Abigail’s mom perks up immediately.

“You caught onto the story too, huh?” She winks at you. Another secret between the two of you, just like you used to have with your own mom.

“The dessert story?” Abigail almost rolls her eyes. “It’s so boring, there’s no sparks or excitement, just a boring realization!”

“Isn’t that what’s the exciting part? That you found out your true feelings for Noah in such a mundane moment?” You ask her, smile on your lips, surprised to hear her dismiss the special moment.

“I guess?” She surrenders with a shrug and matches your smile. She fills her words with emptiness. “What would you make from lemons and raspberries?”

You draw Abigail in by giving her the details of gentle vanilla and tart, but sweet lemon, with fresh raspberries that would round out the flavors and bring everything together. You try to keep her earlier wish in mind, but the more you talk about the second option and the emotional connection the ingredients have, the more excited you get about baking a tester cake with the ingredients. Maybe you imagine it all, but Abigail doesn’t seem to hate your ideas. On the contrary.

Her mom brings you homemade lemon and orange lemonade after a few hours of throwing ideas around, with chocolate chip cookies that you brought from the bakery. Abigail grimaces when the sweet citrus and buttery chocolate crumble together in her mouth.

“If chocolate is like this with lemon and orange, I’m not sure if I want it after all.” You all laugh. The joke wrote itself. You try not to smile too wide to hide the satisfaction her reaction gives you. You’ll follow Abigail’s wishes, but maybe your job as a professional baker isn’t going to be as difficult when you try to convince your customer which flavors work together and which don’t.

After hours of planning, the knot under your shoulder blade is spreading its flames to the back of your neck and base of your skull. Your notebook is thick with inspirational pictures and notes, better indicating what you’re asked to do than what you could’ve illustrated with your blue ballpoint pen. Your calendar has all the important dates and deadlines marked down, now you just have to write them down into the order schedule too.

Standing up from the too soft couch makes you roll your shoulders back when you say goodbye to Abigail’s mom. The tightly wound muscles complain harder and burn with blood flowing through them. 

“I heard a crazy rumor the other day,” Abigail laughs out of nowhere as she walks you to the door. You hand her your shoulder bag while you put on your jean jacket. It’s dry, at least, after the rain colored the light blue denim dark on the shoulders.

The rain hasn’t eased up. It was drizzling lightly early in the morning when you got to the bakery, and got heavier when you left Lili by herself, and you made the drive to come meet Abigail. It has turned into white noise in your ears over the hours. You’re really not looking forward to driving in rain when the roads have a layer of water on them.

“Hmmm?” You swap the slippers Abigail’s mom borrowed for you to the flat-bottomed sneakers you had on when you got here.

“That…” Abigail laughs again, harder like she just told you a hilarious story you should already know about. “That there’s something between you and Javier Peña.” Her laugh is still friendly, a little giggly, but there’s a layer of forcefulness and hardness that she wouldn’t normally have if she actually thought something was funny.

You can’t help the smile that also spreads on your face. Nerves start to sizzle in your belly, bubbling deep and rising steadily towards your chest where it spreads and makes you forget about the pain in your shoulder. You fix your necklace, run the small links between your fingers to make sure it’s not snatched on anything.

“Where did you hear that?”

“Lili saw you two getting cozy, at your bakery no less!” Now you’re both laughing. The tickles of butterflies lift the sound easily through your vocal cords, effortlessly twining with Abigail’s high-strung snickering.

It worked. You reach for your bag which she happily gives you while you avoid her searching eyes. The floor is much more comforting of a companion. You’re not sure what Lili has told people. How Abigail worded it though, the interaction might’ve caught some extra legs along the way. 

“Well?” Abigail pushes. Her mouth is tight and her brows high up. She has always been bad at hiding her impatience.

When you’ve been with her, the demanding tone directed at someone else, she has always come off as powerful and straightforward, someone who gets answers and things done. But now that you’re at the receiving end of her insistence, she is more intimidating than anything else, even with a smile on her face.

“Well, we’re going out this weekend, it’s not a big deal.” You remember every word from your unwritten script you prepared in case Abigail asks you about Javier. Even with your friend waiting for you to tell her more, the smile on your face isn’t hard to keep intact. Your cheeks start to ache from it.

“What do you mean you’re going out? Like on a date?” You didn’t prepare for this. You had only planned to tell her about how Javier had asked you out and Lili had seen something private. Abigail isn’t privy to anything you had planned with Javier.

How you told him when people would be most likely to get baked goods from you. Or how he made sure to walk in at the peak of morning rush hour and stand in line. You had prepared a small order for him to pick up, some breadcrumbs Chucho had asked for a while ago and a couple of cream puffs, with salted caramel pastry cream. You were interested to hear what Chucho thought of the new version of his favorite pastry.

“Trust me, it’ll get people talking,” Javier assured you on the phone the night before, when you finessed the scheme. It was silly, like you were part of a play, and you were the only two actors who knew about it.

He came in the bakery at the right time, just as you had planned. What you didn’t expect was the shit eating grin on his face and the head nods at people looking at him, greeting each with a soft “mornin’”.

He stood in line with his freshly groomed mustache, in a red plaid button-up shirt that was a little heavier than his usual t-shirts. He stood tall, shoulders squared, chin proudly high and his aviators on his eyes. You waited impatiently in the bakery, the little bag of breadcrumbs in your hand and the small box of cream puffs in the other.

Lili called for your name, and you were in the shop before she could say anything else. You met him at the register. Javier took his sunglasses and looped them on his shirt. There was easiness in his eyes and a rumbling coffee tinted good morning on his lips.

The secret between you two made you smile. He answered it by taking a piece of paper from the back pocket of his jeans, a pen from a little cup on the counter, and wrote something on it. Lili followed the interaction like she was looking at zoo animals, her neck stretched to catch a glimpse of his note and a bug-eyed stare when he paid, left a generous tip, and held the piece of paper between his index and middle fingers like a cigarette, taking the order from you with the rest of his hand.

Your fingertips brushed against his when you took the note. His brows jerked up when you held your hand still against his for a second longer than he had anticipated. The seed was already planted. Lili was intrigued. There was no harm in showing her, and the people behind Javier, that it wasn’t just any note. It held meaning.

“See you Friday,” slipped from his mouth. The bakery stood still for a breath and a second after that and then he was out the door. The sun was on his hair, sticking to the brown that curled on his temples and the back of his neck, right above the neckline of his shirt.

“I told you,” the note read. It’s still in your jeans’ back pocket even though he gave it to you a few days ago. You just haven’t had the chance or reason to change your jeans. You’ll throw it away when you put them in the laundry anyway.

“Yeah, like on a date,” you answer Abigail a little taken aback. Maybe it was wishful thinking, but you expected even a hint of excitement, maybe some thrilled questions since you going out on a date is such a foreign thing to happen.

“How?” is the only thing she asks. You stare at each other, disbelief on her face while your smile shrinks and gets replaced with confusion that pulls your brows together.

“He asked me out?” You shoulder your bag. This conversation with Abigail is like you’re freefalling, the floor suddenly gone under your feet.

“Out of nowhere? You don’t know him. Have you even met him?”

“We got to talking on New Years, at your engagement party.” Every word sounds like a defense, like you’re building a case for yourself against a ruthless prosecutor.

“But you were supposed to be hanging out with John. You’ve gone out with him too?”

“Oh god no!” You laugh, but Abigail’s question was genuine. “Why would I? He’s an asshole.” You have no remorse saying it out loud.

“Hey, that’s not fair. I know he can come off as a little harsh at first, but you just have to get to know him more.”

“I don’t think so…” you roll your eyes at her, the words huff out with a snort. You try to push past her towards the door, but she grabs your arm. Her fingers press into your bicep.

“Clearly there are things you don’t know about Javier.” There’s urgency in her voice. She looks almost… scared?

“What don’t I know?”

“Javier is… He’s not a good man. I know many women whose hearts he has broken, and I don’t want to see you on that list.” Abigail’s forcefulness dissipates and is replaced with empathy that sweeps across her features.

The arch of her brows is a little too downward, her eyes a little too soft, her mouth a little too sad. Like you’re a child who must be told what to do, who doesn’t understand what’s good for her. Why you get a sense of being pitied by her, you can’t be sure, but it’s burning the nerves away and the bubbles in the pit of your stomach aren’t fun anymore. They’re popping one by one into teeth grinding annoyance.

“Can I make that decision on my own?” Your voice stays even, even with the irritation tightening the back of your jaw and locking it defiantly. Her hand softens against your arm. She swallows, a new type of determination settling in her eyes.

“Javier is a player,” she rushes to reveal, puffing air from her lungs that still has the tart sweetness of lemonade laced through it. “He has a very particular type and none of his relationships have lasted longer than a few months, if that. I’ve also heard that when he was in Colombia, he was sleeping around a lot.” Her words hold weight that she probably doesn’t even understand.

“Okay, so he was in Colombia and he got around… don’t you think it’s a bit weird you’re accusing your fiancé’s good friend of being promiscuous? Why do you even care about that?”

“Oh god no! No, that’s not what I mean! I don’t care who he sleeps with in the future or how many women he has slept with in the past, but I don’t want you to become just a conquest for him.” She shakes her head almost shocked that you’re turning the question on her rather than swallowing what she’s saying without any questions.  

“What did you mean then?”

“I’m saying this because…” Abigail takes another breath, preparing herself for whatever she is about to drop on you. Her cheeks blush and she looks at you straight in the eyes, wide like she’s once again asking you for something and making it sound like it’s your idea.

“I’ve known him for a long time. You know how I and Noah met? Because Noah was his best man at his wedding!” She pauses and waits for you to react. You can only stare at her, speechless by her reveal. “Javier left his bride at the altar, in front of all our families and friends, humiliating her. He didn’t even show up!”

Each word that Abigail shushes from her mouth is full of venom, her anger and unresolved disappointment so clear that they throw you into a church, in the audience as one of those family members who had to bear witness to whatever happened at that wedding.

Abigail urges you to believe her, standing close, her hand still gripping your jean jacket against her palm, hanging onto hope that you understand what she’s saying. That the warning isn’t meaningless and she’s not saying any of this out of nowhere.

“The next thing I know, he’s on his way to Colombia trying to save the world or whatever. You have to know this because you can’t trust him. You’re too nice! You’re not protecting yourself from him so I’m doing it for you. He’s not good news and I think he’s using you.” She breathes deep, a heavy weight visibly drops off her shoulders as she straightens her back, calmness settling over her features.

What the hell are you supposed to do with this information? How on earth can you defend someone who has betrayed someone’s trust by not coming to their own wedding? The burden Abigail sheds from her shoulders now lays harshly on yours, the reality of not knowing Javier at all sinking in. You can’t let that show through, not now when your plan with Javier has barely even taken off. Not when the other option is someone you don’t want to see ever in your life. You have to suck it up and then bring it up with Javier. You’ll either figure this out and ask him to explain himself. Or you’ll tell him you don’t want to be in any more contact with him than what is necessary.

This is exactly the reason why you don’t date. You don’t want to end up in the middle of people’s messes. You don’t want to deal with people’s dirty laundry. You don’t want to deal with hurt feelings or broken promises. Worst of all, you don’t want to be dealing with broken families.

You have enough experience of that of your own, you don’t have to have that from someone on the outside as well. Your body is trying to admit defeat by making yourself small in front of Abigail, who is chipping away at your confidence by standing taller every second that passes.

“What’s he using me for?” You try to gain back some standing in this conversation. Abigail huffs out a breath and throws her hand in the air from your arm.

“Are you serious?” The frustration is so thick in her hushed voice, and in the air, that you could cut it with a knife. Every time she breathes the heavier it is for you to be standing in front of her.

You never expected to be opposite from your friend, stubbornly asking a question that makes you a teenager who is begging to make her own mistakes even when someone is warning her that she’ll only get hurt if she doesn’t open her eyes and take the warning seriously.

“I don’t know,” she speaks too loud. Abigail looks over your shoulder immediately, expecting to hear her mom say something in the living room. “I’m trying to protect you here. If I were you, I wouldn’t trust him. I don’t want to see you wasting your time on someone who doesn’t care about you, at least not in the way you deserve.”

Your jaw twitches and you swallow but your mouth is so dry that it’s almost like your body is rejecting your wishes to get the uncomfortable tightness away from your throat. What a nightmare. You should’ve considered asking Javier if he has any skeletons in the deepest corners of an empty, dark closet.

Being cornered by none other than Abigail of all people isn’t something you want to experience ever again. You never wanted to be on the receiving end of her frustrations but here you are and you’re going to be making a fool of yourself for a man you don’t even know. 

“I don’t need your protection, Abigail.” You clear your throat. “We’re just going out on a date. I’m not marrying the guy. I can handle myself.”

“I’m just worried he’s –“

“I don’t need you to be worried. I’m an adult, I can take care of myself.” Maybe it’s your inexperience of never really having dated anyone or never experienced being in a relationship with anyone. Maybe Abigail is genuinely being protective. You just have a gut feeling that something isn’t adding up here.

No matter how many times she says she’s trying to protect you, you’ve never seen her like this. Abigail is fiercely loyal, you know that. You’ve known that this whole time you’ve been friends. She will defend the closest to her until there’s no one else standing. It’s part of her nature. To care in a way that reassures you’re one of a kind in her life and she won’t leave you on your own.

She has proven that time and time again. Like when you were in college and someone stepped on your feet at a house party. Abigail pushed the guy away, her finger against his chest, making sure everyone in hearing distance heard how the guy didn’t even have the decency to apologize.

Or how she always made sure to tell you how pretty something looked on you when you were insecure about it. A new shirt or a dress that was shorter than your usual dresses. She built your confidence up word by word, like a sister, always standing by you and ready to psych you up until you believed it yourself. Until you were able to psych yourself up as well.

Being against her, against her warning, and trying to stand here on top of the building blocks of confidence that she helped you find, suddenly they’re wobblier than you’d want them to be. You try to keep your shoulders open, your back tall, eye to eye with her.

The more you watch her, see the flustered twist of her mouth, her skin pale and an unexplainable hardness flaming in her eyes, the more you’re convinced she’s not necessarily protecting you. She’s warning you, but not because she’s afraid of you getting hurt. She’s trying to say something. She’s trying to make you see it. But no matter how hard you try to see through the troubled look on her face, no matter how you listen to her, you can’t catch it between her words.

“Where are you going at least?” She finally breaks the tension. It deflates, so do your shoulders while she gathers determination to not make this into a disagreement.

Abigail is still standing in the doorway when you get to your car and shut the door behind you. The rain-streaked windshield distorts her figure, with more drumming against the roof and hood at a steady rhythm. You take a deep breath, and then another before you start your car. As soon as the engine roars to life, Abigail is out of the doorway.

The rain falls heavier when you turn to the road leading back to town, and even harsher when you’re in the middle of nowhere. It forces you to lighten your foot against the gas pedal when your wipers are working overtime, and you still can’t see a thing outside the window.

The car jerks forward and keeps on going until you’re not the one slowing your pace to a crawl. It’s the engine too. A red light blinks on the otherwise dark dashboard warning you of what’s to come. Your hands immediately sweat against the black leather on the wheel when the car tangibly slows down.

You try your best to get it on the side of the road safely before it shuts off. The tires bump down from the asphalt onto the gravel, before driving over the thick grass that only leads into a ditch. You breathe through your mouth as you steer your car to stay on the flat edge even when you’re blinded by the downpour.

You shake your head. This can’t be happening. You listen to the rain beat against the metal cage around you, head empty of any thought that might help you find a solution. The red light on the dashboard… The battery. Of course it would do this on a day when you’re stranded on a lonely road.

It’s an older car, the seller even told you that you might have to check on the battery at some point after driving a specific amount. There are still miles left until that point, yet here you are. Your shoulder complains when you lean your head backwards and close your eyes against the headrest.

Something approaches. The rain gives way to a heavy rumble that suddenly gets closer and closer. You hit the emergency light button on your dashboard and not even five seconds later a massive semi-trailer barrels past you, shaking the car and leaving it in a cloud of water that pillows behind the freight.

You rub your fingers against your eyes, and up towards your hairline. No matter how long you sit here, nothing will change until you do something. Your phone. You rummage through your bag, take out your notebook and your calendar, then your wallet and CD-case for car ride tunes. Your bag is empty, your phone nowhere in sight.

“Fucking shit,” you mutter, seeing your phone on the bakery table. You called the wholesale earlier when you ordered a few different jams. Strawberry, apricot and raspberry. “Fuck!” You hit your head against the steering wheel, bumping your hand against it and setting the horn off. It startles you, like you’re not allowed to wallow in frustration even for a few minutes.

Your options are limited. You can walk to town and get drenched while doing that. You can wait until the rain calms and then start walking. Or you can cross one of the fields to call for a tow truck, risking getting bitten by a snake or something. None of those choices appeal to you.

You close your eyes and lay your head against the steering wheel again. You can only think of the look on Abigail’s face. The worry that honestly looked like she was more annoyed than really worried. If you didn’t have to think about this dating thing at all, there’d be nothing to stress about. If she hadn’t sprung this all up in the first place, you could be burying yourself in work and everyone would be happy.

The rain seems to only get stronger. It’s pouring from a bucket, alienating you on the road, making you an island with no bridges to anyone. You can’t shake Abigail’s story from your mind. How foolish of you to think this wouldn’t kick you in the back at some point.

You haven’t even had a proper conversation with the man yet and here you are, sitting miserable in your car, forced to mull over someone’s life choices based on what you heard from an outsider. There’s only Abigail’s word to believe and you’re still trying to think of possible reasons why Javier ended up leaving his bride at the altar.

The rain waves over you. It quiets and makes you believe it will finally give up when another, heavier wave rolls in and envelopes you in its arms. Through the white noise of your car’s roof being beaten, you hear a motor.

Your side window is streaked with water, the side mirror is covered in a damp haze. The headlights of a car blink through it, approaching in a crawl. At least it won’t splash you like the truck did or swing you off the road and into the ditch that is most likely already full of water.

The car, a pickup truck, drives past. The taillights flash red when the car slows even more and parks in front of you, backing up until it’s only a couple of feet from your bumper. Great. Either they’re going to help you, or it’ll be someone who will only creep you out. The truck though. It looks familiar. The rusty maroon and the blocky white stripe on the side. You’ve seen it in town so at least you’ll most likely know the driver.

The driver’s door opens. You can’t make out who it is through the rain, only a tall, wide frame that jogs towards your door. You recognize Javier’s face only when he’s about to knock on the window. His hair is already dripping. His eyes are squinted even though it doesn’t help much in this downpour. You roll the window down, your head suddenly empty.

“Need a ride?” It’s a quick question. Water pours over his face, sticks to his moustache and trickles into his open mouth. You don’t have to think long. “Take your stuff,” he orders, and you happily comply.

He’s already by his truck when you lock your car doors and rush to the passenger’s side with your bag in your arms. The warning lights blink against the wet ground as your shoes get soaked and through your socks in an instant.

Javier opens the door for you from the inside and you pull it open the rest of the way, falling in with your things in your arms. You pant, from the adrenaline of getting saved from your four wheeled island and rushing to his car as fast as you can. It doesn’t help that suddenly Javier makes your head spin and uncertainty stir your gut when you look at him. The damp of your clothes turns into wetness as the water from the rain seeps through the layers of your jean jacket, your t-shirt, through your jeans, right to your skin and under it.

“Hi,” he sighs, looking at you with a smirk on his lips, even his eyes glinting in the grey of the weather that tries to suck the warmth from the brown.

“Hi,” you breathe out and it relieves some of the tension that stirred in your head.

“You like to hang out here just for fun or…?” He starts the car and gets it going on a crawl. His hands squeeze the steering wheel loosely, almost relaxed, unlike you.

“Yeah, sure. I was having a party with the blinking lights, didn’t you see?” The breathed-out chuckle makes you bite your lip, to keep your smile under control.

“Trust me, I saw. And it looks like that party has ended.” How ironic of him to tell you to trust him. You still smile but tension builds up in your jaw immediately.

“Thanks for stopping, I was kinda losing hope out here.” You try to put on your seat belt, but the clutch doesn’t want to stay in place.

“Happy to help.” He shakes his head slowly, from one side to the next, his eyes flashing on your hands as you battle with the belt. “Let me get that.”

He keeps his focus on the wet road, while pushing your other hand away by just covering yours with his. His thumb presses the loop down. His palm covers your hand easily as you keep the latch in place. His skin is so warm, sucking the cold right out of your bloodstream. The buckle finally clicks into place. He draws his hand back, a quick glance your way as his fingertips accidentally slide against the outside of your hip.

“Thanks.” You don’t want to make it weird. You focus looking out the window and the rain-streaked windshield.

 “Where are you going, the bakery?”

“Well, no, not anymore. I need someone to come and tow my car. The battery is fucked.” 

“Gary’s it is.” You’ve never been there. You got your car checked over in the next town over, where the seller had it. Since then, you’ve always gone there to get your car cleared, twice every year since you got it. The mechanics there are older, who know cars inside and out, understanding every sound and every hiccup. There hasn’t been a time when they’ve failed to give you a good deal if something has to be fixed. This time it doesn’t matter. You need your car.

“What were you doing out here anyway?” Javier sounds conversational, casual with his question.

“I met up with Abigail, to talk about their wedding cake.”

“They ordered one from you?” He switches the wipers to go back and forth a little slower, as the rain finds a lazier rhythm.

“I’m giving them one.” Javier nods and you think he hums in understanding. You remember the story about the tart. Raspberry and lemon fill your senses. Even the thought of them wets your mouth and the idea of a sweet, gentle lemon-flavored cake with fresh raspberries and vanilla frosting puts your brain to work. Maybe you’re hungry.

As fast as you remember the tart, your thoughts shift from cakes to Abigail’s reveal.

You glance at Javier from the corner of your eye. It’s hard for you to imagine him walking down an aisle to wait for his fiancée to join him. Let alone standing at an altar in a black suit next to someone in a white dress and bouquet of flowers in her hands while a bunch of people stare at them and wait for them to vow to be together forever. That idyllic life and Javier Peña in the same sentence are like water and oil in your mind.

Maybe you can’t say anything about him in his drying hair that is curling at the ends. The mustache that he hasn’t trimmed in a couple of days and the five o’clock shadow on his jawline that is now at least a couple of days old. The neck that could be carved by someone with a chisel, long and strong, richly tan even in the cold lighting.

How many button-up shirts does this man own, as you’re seeing him once again in a new one, this time in dark blue with long sleeves. His fingers tap against the steering wheel, a rhythm only in his head, the radio silent.

You can’t judge a man you don’t know. You can only see the surface, not what he’s really like. He could want that idyllic family life and a big wedding, but he keeps a low profile about them.

He tilts his head towards you, a minor movement, like he wants to hear you better. His dark lashes frame his focused eyes, looking even thicker in the gloom of the rain. His head leans more towards you. Maybe you need to just ask him about it, the wedding, his failed marriage that wasn’t even a marriage. It’s on your mind. It’s better to get rid of it now than let it simmer and keep you wondering.

“What?” His chin leads the turn of his head, suddenly catching you red-handed in taking him in. For the first time you’ve really gotten a chance to look at him. If you would’ve known better, you would’ve made sure to not get caught because you don’t stand a chance against the deep brown of his eyes that read you in a heartbeat.

The question is on the tip of your tongue. You’re about to ask if he can explain himself, tell you more about his past.

You sigh, “Nothing, was just thinking about this arrangement of ours.” You let the questions slip from your grasp.

Technically you’re not lying. Abigail’s words are under your skin and your candor about something else on your mind is only a way for you to avoid turning a stone you’re not ready to. The road turns and buildings are finally appearing through the downpour.

“I’ve been thinking about it too.” His unexpected confession spikes your heartrate instantly. His voice goes a bit lower, a little shakier. Javier is still as confident as ever, but there’s a light tinge of ‘what if’ coloring it.

“What about it?” You sound a bit more worried than you’d like to.

“Look, when you said yes to this whole circus, I’m grateful for that.” You already hear the but in his voice.

Immediately you’re on a carousel, going over the few instances you’ve been in contact with Javier. If you’ve told him something that would make him second guess you and your intentions. You have no secret intentions. You just want to get through this wedding without any extra attention.

Though, how Abigail reacted, that might’ve been a useless wish.

“I just can’t stop thinking how we have to fake something just because someone is being a little… eager.” The shake of Javier’s head is the cherry on top of the irritated thought that makes it sound like he has been thinking about this for a while.

“You think we should still do it?” Him saying no would release you from any stress you’re already predicting to experience the closer the wedding is getting. You wouldn’t have to think about keeping your stories straight or how you literally have to seem like you like this guy any more than just as a friend.

Are you even friends, you can’t put a finger on that.

But him saying no would also end this new connection you’re having. Even though you don’t have time for dating, Javier’s presence and knowing he’s in this situation with you does give you a sense of comfort. If he became your friend in this town that sometimes manages to shove your face in loneliness, you wouldn’t say no to it.

“Yeah, I’m in. Won’t mean I’ll be happy about people pushing their noses into our business.”

“I’m with you on that.”

“What have you been thinking?” He asks. His other hand drops from the steering wheel, and he glances at you, trying to dig into how you’re dealing with all this.  

“I…” The words get stuck in your throat. This is a perfect chance. Ask why he left his bride at the altar, a little voice in your head urges. Your mouth goes cinnamon dry and your jaw clenches, not letting any words out.

You can’t help the uncomfortable laugh that makes the mood shift from open honesty to awkwardness immediately. “I’m gl—” Your voice catches and you have to swallow before trying again, “I’m glad I can do this with someone who understands what we’re pretending, that’s all.”

“Yeah.” Javier isn’t dumb. You can hear how he knows you’re hiding something. He knows you’re not telling him what’s really on your mind. He doesn’t have time to get into it as you reach Gary’s Garage. As soon as he turns the car off, you open your seatbelt and jump out, briskly walking in through the front door.

The smell of gasoline and oil hits you immediately, the second smell being air freshener, closely followed by tire rubber. You’re taken back to childhood, and your grandpa’s garage where every spring you checked your bike over.

He helped you paint it more than once, always allowing you to use whatever colors were your favorite. There you stood, with the bike’s skeleton turned upside down with some parts covered in tape and plastic to protect the colors you already liked and the parts that had to stay bare.

Your grandpa stood beside you with paint respirators on both of your faces, spray paint cans in hand. When you were younger, the can was so big that you had to hold it with two hands, and it still kept slipping from your grasp. When you got older, you could hold it easily.

Being around Javier is like being around a magnet. You hear him get in through the door. You take a step back, like he’s able to pull you towards him. He doesn’t say anything, you don’t even hear his footsteps. He hovers, like two same poles rejecting each other. You look at him and immediately he comes closer, to stand right behind your back.

“Ah, Peña! What can I do for you?” A younger looking guy wearing a dark grey overall stained with black oil appears from behind a hood of a car. He rubs his hands on a rag tied to his belt loop, before scrubbing his hand through his dirty blond hair that’s in need of washing.

“Follow my lead,” Javier whispers in your ear before placing his arm loosely over your shoulders. You meet the guy at a small service desk. It’s covered with a plastic desk cover that has yellowed at spots and has different car brand logo stickers glued to it. People have tested a pen at the corners, random loops and something that looks like boobs cartooned on the mechanics’ side.

“I’m cashing in that favor your dad owed us.” You immediately turn to Javier, but he shuts you up by squeezing your shoulder. His thumb is right at the edge of the knot under your shoulder blade, pressing against it in a way that makes you pull your shoulders back and wince in discomfort.

“My girlfriend is having some car trouble.” He says at the same time, notices your pain and backs off from the squeeze, only having his hand lay gently against the tight muscle. It’s warm and it seeps through the layer of damp denim and cotton on your skin.

The mechanic looks at you with wide eyes, then at Javier, then back at you with his brows lifting and an unbelieving smile forming on his lips. You know him. He’s a flirt. You’ve had to deal with him before, when he has come to the bakery with his wife.

“Javier, I believe my dad can only do favors for you or your dad, no one said anything about a girlfriend.” He says the word like it’s a joke. You breathe against Javier’s hand, which in this moment manages to keep you calm.

“No worries, I can—”

“Rick,” Javier cuts you off. Another gentler squeeze forces you to listen to him, just like he commands Rick. “I believe your dad said that he owes me one after I helped him fix that fence you had promised to help him with. He didn’t say anything about there being conditions.” Rick looks between you two once more, until he focuses back on Javier.

“So, what’s the problem, what happened?”

“Ask her, it’s her car.” Javier’s hand slides off your shoulder, leaving you to stand on your own two feet. The wide shadow of him behind you moves away and as he does so, you gain confidence. The heels of his boots hit the concrete floor, and with each step your confidence bursts to life, like he’s pulling it out of you to deal with a nuisance just like any other day. You hear the door, you’re alone.

“I was driving, and the battery light came on and then the car stopped, J—” You catch yourself, his words fresh in your ears, “My boyfriend picked me up, but the car is still on the side of the road.”  You can tell Rick doesn’t believe you when you use that word for Javier.

No wonder. Only a couple of weeks back you had to deal with him, and you didn’t use Javier’s status as your boyfriend in one of your jabs back at him.

“Your boyfriend,” Rick starts and leans forward with a sly smile on his face, against the small counter that separates you from him. You can smell it on him, the low blow that he’s going to serve. “Are you two really together? Because I know a sweet thing like you could do so much better.” He raises his brows at the same time, thinking he got you.

You stare at him. Your mind drains of every possible comeback that you’ve perfected over the years when thinking of different scenarios where you’d need to have a snarky comment at the ready. Rick is one of those men who will look at you once, insult you, and think you’ve fallen head over heels in love with him based on that one interaction. Even when he’s married.

Your head blows up with all the ideas what you could say to him, mixing into a ball of nothingness that makes you mute. The longer you stand still, the more he’s convinced he has won you over, finally.

You take a step forward, even shaking yourself up with the bold move. You lean your hip against the counter, curving your back in the process, and smile at him, just like a sweet thing would. The door opens and lets in fresh air. Javier. He stops a bit further away; his presence isn’t enveloping you. But there’s still that pull.

It’s just you, and Rick, you tell yourself.

“Is that so?” You place your hand right next to his and tilt your head.

“Mmhmm,” he hums, ecstatic about the attention you’re giving him.

Javier’s slow steps echo from your left to your right side, until he’s standing where you can see him from the corner of your eye. It shouldn’t be hard for you to keep up with the act with him there, but suddenly your focus wavers and the fearless imaginary conversations, where you know every single word, you want to say, are pointless.

“I really like when little ladies like yourself know their customers. I still remember when you recommended that creamy thing to me, just because you knew I’d like it.” Rick blabbers on. Javier’s eyes narrow, but you keep your cool like it’s an armor.

“I think I recommended the cream doughnuts to your wife, when your in-laws were coming to visit?” You ask innocently. Javier hides his mouth behind his hand immediately, turning from you.

Maybe with this guy you don’t even have to try coming up with something snappy. Rick chuckles. He almost manages to trace his fingertip against your wrist, but he’s not close enough. You make yourself stand still. What you’d really want to do is slap him.

“I know it was meant for me. You don’t have to hide it. Listen…” Rick stands back up, a cocky look in his eyes. “I bet I know why you recommended them to me.” Your face must tell him to continue.

“I bet you’d love to try my doughnut, and my cream.” The way he says it, sleazy and so full of himself, with his tongue licking his lips to emphasize the very obvious double meaning, is supposed to be the thing to make you fall on your knees in front of him.

Instead, it takes everything in you not to burst out laughing right at his face, or to keep yourself from slamming your fist in his eye. The smile Javier was trying to hide earlier isn’t there anymore. He’s far from it. His eyes are hard and venomous under his brows, dark in a way you haven’t seen yet even from the corner of your vision.

“You know what I’d love?” Rick perks up at your question, thinking you’re finally catching the bait with a smile. He wishes.

“I think I’d give you exactly what you’re looking for, sugar.” You can’t help the laugh that finally makes you break. Rick chuckles with you and he reaches his hand towards your face. You step back right before his dirty fingers make contact with your cheek, and you drop the smile, the cute voice and look him straight in the eyes.

“I want you to get my damn car and change the battery. Then you’ll call me when it’s done because I need my car. Please.” You emphasize the word with a smirk that only appears for a second, until you’re giving him stone and ice again. Rick’s face turns to disappointment and annoyance. Javier takes a step forward, pulling out a folded map from his back pocket and smoothing it against the table.

“It’s here,” he says, his voice low, his finger pointing at the road where he picked you up in a demanding manner.  

“You can call the bakery when it’s done.” You tell Rick with finality in your voice while Javier folds the map back up. You don’t want to stay in the garage any longer than necessary. As soon as Javier is done, you grab his hand and pull him along with you.

“Bitch,” you hear Rick mutter under his breath when you’re almost at the door.

“Thank you!” You singsong to him, rolling your eyes just as you step outside into the humidity. At least the rain has calmed, but it seems like it has gathered in the air, like a weighted blanket on top of everything. Your heart is pounding in your chest, barely staying in place rather than jumping through your throat. You breathe in the watery air and blow it out slowly.

“I think you deserve a drink after that,” Javier bumps his arm against yours. You look up at him, your hands still linked together and see the impressed smirk on his face.

“What?”

“You don’t come across as someone who’d have that in you.” He speaks nonchalantly, like it’s just a normal day at the office to witness you talking back to a slimy guy like Rick.

“You have no idea.”

“Come,” he says, pulling you along with him across the street. You match your steps with his.

Javier opens the door for you. A red-themed, all-day breakfast diner welcomes you in with the smell of pancakes and bacon, the complete opposite of what’s on the other side of the street. It doesn’t smell poisonous, or like you’ll lose brain cells after inhaling the smell for long enough.

Javier finally lets go of your hand and you walk in front of him towards the line. The diner is full. Booths with red tables and worn-down red leather couches are occupied with families and workers from all over the town.

The waiters and waitresses are wearing the same uniforms, red pants and white t-shirts, with little aprons on. Orders are getting yelled out from the kitchen, the mood an exciting mix of delight and stress. People are getting welcomed in by name, asked how they’re doing, and their usual orders are placed without them having to say a word.

“Did it really happen?” Javier asks against your ear, his presence like a backpack. “With the cream doughnuts?”

“Oh yeah, the guy comes in with his…” You look around yourself, see a couple of little kids nearby, and turn more towards Javier, “Fucking wife and she asks what pastries would be good for the in-laws. I remember her saying that it can’t be anything too fancy, but something more interesting than cookies. And he takes the suggestion as a double entendre,” you huff and shake your head. Either she doesn’t know her husband is like that or then she’s just turning a blind eye. Or maybe she likes it.

More people walk in as a new wave of rain rolls over the town and forces the line to squeeze together. Javier steps a little closer. His warmth and broadness hover right behind you, brushing against your back every few seconds.

Someone tries to walk past you and forces you to squeeze yourself right against Javier. A puff of warm air hits your neck, right above the collar of your jean jacket. You almost apologize to Javier for stepping so close, but his proximity drives you to forget about it. The darkness in his eyes isn’t like in the garage, but it burns in a different way. It’s not scary, but open, bordering on vulnerable, and it punches against your chest in a way that manages to draw all air from you.

“Thanks for coming with me and using your favor on me.” You say instead, heavy debt sitting on your shoulders as the line stands still. There’s something happening in the kitchen, after you hear a great splash.

“It’s nothing, we rarely go to Gary’s anyway. Had to get that favor out of the way somehow. But I don’t think you needed me.”

“If I was alone, I don’t think I could’ve been like that to Rick, and I also would have to pay full price for the battery.” Javier chuckles. It’s a small sound, light and airy, like he’s hiding a real laugh behind it but not ready to reveal it yet.

“You’re welcome then.” A waitress announces they’ve dropped a gravy canister in the kitchen and will need a few more minutes before they can resume serving all the customers.

“He deserved it,” Javier says after a moment of people rumbling their disappointment and understanding. Someone pushes past you again. Javier’s hand instinctively lands on your shoulder to guide you.

“I should’ve asked you earlier, if it was okay for me to touch you?” He almost takes his hand off you but someone else makes their way through the crowded diner as well, and once again he’s guiding you to squeeze closer to him, away from their fast feet and body that would otherwise bump into you.

“Yeah, I mean, I guess we can’t be afraid of some hand holding and casual touches, right?”

“Yeah,” he agrees. He doesn’t pull his hand off you, which you expect. He’s tentative with his touch, unlike in the garage. It lingers lightly, but then presses steadily against you, his thumb on that damn knot, and once again your shoulder complains. You flinch and turn your head away from the pain, gasping out a breath in discomfort.

As on cue he lifts his hand even though you can still feel the heat of it. “You okay?” You roll your stiff shoulders even though it doesn’t seem to help at all.

“I’m fine. Just a tight musc—” your words cut out with a sharp inhale as he finds the spot instantly.

“Here?” His thumb rubs against it in a tight circle, presses gently but enough to cause the knot to burn.

“Uh-huh,” you squeak, and tilt your head away from his hand.

“I had the same problem, always when I was stressed it would lock back up, right here.” He presses on the muscle and makes you gasp for air. He almost sounds like he’s talking to himself rather than you in the full diner. You wouldn’t hear his voice if he wasn’t as close as he is.

Javier massages the spot over and over, slowly bringing blood flow back into it. You could get used to it, his touch, the large hand on your shoulder, the thumb that manages to circle the pain exactly at the right point, coaxing the tension onto the surface. 

“Why don’t you go to Gary’s often?” You could close your eyes. You’re already leaning against Javier’s palm, almost against him, but the question stuck with you.

“Because of his son.” You giggle as the knot starts to open and his answer hits you at the same time.

“You?”

“No, I never go there.”

“Wonder why,” his voice sounds like it’s right next to your ear.

“Yeah, the tip jar won’t be full after my car is fixed.” The soft vibrations of Javier’s chuckles run in through your ear and spikes your skin with goosebumps. You tip your chin against your chest, unable to hold in your own gentle laugh.

Your shoulder is still a bit sore a few days later, but it doesn’t complain anymore when you need to turn your head. You can pull out the hanger with the little black dress you haven’t worn too often and when you get your head through the neckline and zip up the back, the muscle doesn’t burn like you would’ve just spent hours in the same position decorating a cake or sitting by a desk typing out orders and invoices.

You smooth out the dress and look at yourself in the mirror. Is it too short? The hem falls on your mid-thigh, covered in see-through black pantyhose.

You turn and run your hands over your backside. It’s okay, not too short.

Your phone rings once before it stops completely. Javier. You told him to call and let the phone ring once to let you know when he’s downstairs at six. You look at the clock. He’s five minutes early.

Your heart starts to slam against your ribs. You blot lipstick on your lips and rub your finger against them to spread the red more evenly. You check your purse for the umpteenth time since you packed it right after work.

You step into your black pumps, giving your posture a boost. You check your necklace in the mirror last, the chain empty against your chest. You really should find a fitting pendant for it. To replace the one your mom had but lost right after your grandpa died.

You turn your keys in the lock and as soon as your door clicks, nerves spike.

“It’s an agreement, nothing more,” you repeat to the irrational side of your brain that keeps telling you that you’re going out on a date.

A pungent, odd smell drifts to your nose as you pass your neighbor’s door. That same irrational voice says you forgot to wear deodorant. No, you didn’t, as you smell your pits. And it also doesn’t smell like sweat, more like some heavy duty cleaning product. It must be your neighbor. There’s some pumping, 70’s disco music playing in his apartment and the vacuum cleaner is on, clanking against the wall closest to the corridor.

A buzzing wall scone illuminates the corridor in dim yellow, leaving the stairs dark until another, flickering wall scone welcomes you into its sepia toned embrace at the bottom of the stairs. You take steps carefully down, holding onto the handrailing with your dear life, your feet getting used to the high heels after wearing sneakers for months.

You can’t even remember the last time you wore heels. This time it’s appropriate. The restaurant Javier has reserved your table at is a fancier one, right outside of town. You’ve never dined there, but you once delivered a cake there for the 60th birthday party of the richest family in town. You’re not sure whose birthday it was, but the place looked dressy.

The steps descend into darkness and your legs turn into cement. You have to stop and hold your hand against the wall for a moment. The light at the bottom of the stairs doesn’t illuminate this far and the narrow window on top of the door is a joke at letting in light. Though there’s no natural light left anyway. Evening and twilight have already fallen.

It’s not the dark that holds you in place. It’s the voice in your head. The irrational one, the one that likes to live in a fantasy from time to time. The one that made up all the images of a soulmate who you’d buy a traditional home with and where you’d have a mantelpiece filled with family photos.

The one that made you wake up with a smile on your lips when it was barely morning because you dreamt about Javier. In the dream you were sitting next to him, and you were happy. You knew he was the one. When reality finally caught up with you, you were horrified of what your mind had concocted in your sleep.

This time the voice likes to remind you that you’re going out on a date. When you get down the stairs and open the door, Javier is going to be standing next to his car and there’ll be no turning back. You’re pretending something that will hold meaning to some people and others won’t bat an eye.

You shut that voice down immediately. You’re only helping each other out, taking care of a joined problem and that’s it. No matter what people think or don’t think, you’ll be done with this act immediately after Abigail and Noah’s wedding.

You can go back to normal. You can forget it ever happened even when people would ask why you two parted ways. It will probably give you some good, shared laughs with Javier every once in a while, when you bump into each other around town or if he happens to come and pick up something for his dad from the bakery.

You take a deep breath and take the steps down. Under the flickering wall scone you tell the voice that it’s not a date. You’re just seeing each other to get the ball rolling. People have to see you two in public so your scam will be more believable. That’s all it is, and that’s all it’s going to be.

You open the door. Javier isn’t next to his car like you thought he would. He’s standing behind the door, a palette of emotions running over his face at once. Surprise, calm, nervousness? Until his eyes take you in by looking you up and down from your eyes to your dress to your pantyhose glad legs to your shoes and back up again to your eyes, settling on a soft smirk.

“I was going to ring the doorbell,” he points at the buzzer with his thumb, your name written with bulky letters on a sticker.

“Sorry, I had to make sure I had everything.”

“That’s fine!” He stands still, in front of you, a sudden silence filling you with awkwardness.

“Well…” And you laugh a short laugh, one that could be mistaken for a confused ‘huh’.

“Ready?” Javier melts into action, letting you walk out of the doorway.

“Yeah, let me just lock this.” He waits patiently for you to lock the door behind you. He’s hovering again. You see him from the corner of your eye, his black boots that shine dimly under the streetlights.

He’s not wearing jeans, as you somehow thought he would. He’s in dark slacks, his white shirt a crisp contrast to the shirts he usually wears. He opens the truck door for you, and waits patiently for you to get in.

He offers you his hand when you’re about to take support of the car door to sit on the worn leather of the front seat. You smile and take it, his skin burning hot against your warmth, gentle yet firm as he holds it until you’re in.

You try to smooth the hem of your dress under you, but it’s already in place. The leather imprints against the backs of your thighs, the only saving factor is your pantyhose, keeping your skin from sticking to the seat that gets toasty from body heat in no time.

Javier waits for a car to pass until he hops in on the driver’s seat.

“You got your car back,” he says, the lights on his truck flashing on the rear of your car.

“I got it the day after we went to the garage. Apparently, Gary had to send his son to pick up the battery from Laredo.” You still made sure to personally tip only Gary. Rick wasn’t getting any of it. No matter how it was a favor for Javier and Gary was adamant in following through, you couldn’t leave without paying something.

“Good.” Another silence falls between you two.

Javier drives in a way that is secure, even on the darkest roads, where the only sweeping light illuminated against the asphalt is from the headlights. He’s relaxed. His other elbow rests on the open window where warm wind blows in at the comfortable speed he’s driving. His other arm lays against his thigh, yet both his hands are on the steering wheel. He knows these roads. He has driven them countless times over the years.

The restaurant is like a mirage in the distance. It appears through the dark with a golden haze. Javier fixes his back against the leather seat the closer you get. Your heart rate spikes when he parks the truck in the far end of the small parking lot, full of cars.

Cicadas chirp as the engine shuts off, your door towards the solitude of night. He’s out the door before you’ve opened your seatbelt buckle, and he opens the door for you just as you lay your hand to open it yourself. His white shirt illuminates against the restaurant lighting, working as a safety barrier between you and the vast emptiness where there’s nothing else than miles of farming land.

He's still not saying anything, neither do you. Your mind is blank, and the only sound that echoes in your ears are your matched footsteps. Your heels click and his boots scuff every few steps against the ground. The sound of the cicadas drifts off the further away you get from the tall grass and bushes.

The hem of your dress caresses against the back of your thighs until there’s another feeling. It’s very soft, barely there, but it’s still there, on the small of your back. Javier’s hand. It’s not intrusive or forced, but careful and measured. His fingers drag lightly against you when he pulls his hand back to open the door for you and let you walk into the restaurant first.

“Welcome to the Velvet Fig, how can I help you tonight?” A chipper, blonde woman asks, her hair in perfect curls and her teeth as white as the pressed tablecloths.

“I have a reservation, under Peña.” You stand next to him clutching your purse in your hands. You scratch the fabric with the nail of your thumb, standing with your back straight and a tingling in your lower back.

Javier’s arm is almost against yours, still far enough that you’d need to lean towards him if you wanted to truly press against him, but still close enough that the hair on your arm is standing still and reaching for the feel of him. The hostess runs her finger along the page of her reservation book, taps it twice and then lifts her face to smile at the two of you.

“This way Mr. Peña.” She takes two menus with her and leads you through the restaurant. Javier lets you go first, following behind you. You get the same sense of him as you did when you met him for the first time.

His warmth radiates towards you, like you’re attracting it, and he’s happy to make you feel it. It makes you aware of him, almost hyper aware of how close he is and how he follows each of your steps with his own, matching them so he won’t step on your heels.

You catch someone’s eye as you walk past them. An older lady with graying hair. She’s possibly with her husband, who is sawing through a well-cooked steak. She observes you from your head to the hem of your dress. If she was wearing pearls, she’d clutch them.

The judgmental look in her eyes is enough to give you a few extra inches of confidence and you smile sweetly at her with a little head tilt, passing her by without giving her a second thought. The whole restaurant is full of people like her. Older couples. People with money. People who will look at you down the bridges of their noses, giving you a mental score to decide how deserving you’re to be in here.

“Here you go,” the hostess presents a round booth table for you and Javier at the far end of the restaurant. It’s quiet here, even with the other booths full. A small bouquet of red roses sit in a small vase in the middle of the table, a candle in a frosty glass candle holder next to it. Javier waits for you to get seated before he slides in from the other side.

The velvet of the seat catches against your pantyhose, and you try to fix your dress the best you can in the narrow space. The hostess places the menus in front of you on the table and claps her hands together gently, to not draw attention to herself with a loud noise.

“A waiter is going to come take your drink orders in a few minutes.” Her pleasant attitude is so well crafted that you could almost believe that’s what she’s like when she takes off her black pencil skirt, high heels, and white little collared blouse.

You’ve seen her before though.

She has come to the bakery a couple of times. You never forget the faces of those who complain. She didn’t see you at first, but you sure heard her laughing about how she would’ve added more butter to the brioche and made the brownies cakier than fudgier if the bakery was hers.

She also found some big words to critique your choice of opening hours, thinking the bakery would do better if it stayed open until late in the evening since no one can come in during the day like she did, right before closing, while looking at the empty shelves and discounted brown paper bags with the last bread rolls in them. Luckily she’s not in charge of your business.

“Thank you,” both you and Javier say at the same time, immediately locking eyes right after. The hostess leaves, and so does your confidence. Once again, you’re in a game against Javier, the game of who breaks under pressure first. He looks at you with unblinking eyes. They’re honey dipped in the warm mood lighting, almost melting in the way he’s keeping you nailed to your seat.

“I don’t know why, but I’m nervous,” you throw the towel in immediately. You can’t win against this guy, you don’t even have a chance. A smile appears slowly at first, from the corners of his eyes, until it breaks through and spreads onto his lips.

“Me too, this isn’t something I do often.” He smooths his hand against the tablecloth and brings the folded thick cotton napkin closer to you.

“Fake date women to keep people from asking too many questions about your personal life?” You crack the joke and immediately regret it when he turns his attention back to you with a smile on his face, but seriousness in his eyes.

“No, take women out on dates.” A vague sound that resembles an “ah” comes out of your mouth as his answer strips you of any other words. What can you even say when his answer sounds like a lie. Or at least if you look at Javier, it seems impossible that he wouldn’t be going out on dates. A thought crosses your mind. Maybe, just maybe him ditching his bride at the altar had another reason entirely.

“You mean… You’ve…” Your slow words make his brows get a quizzical arch in them. You have to clear your throat and make sure no one else will hear you.

There was a guy once who you had a crush on. You had just started college and he sat next to you in one of your classes. You once asked to borrow a pen from him, he once asked to see your notes from the previous class that he had missed.

Since then you became friendly, your thoughts racing ahead of you a million miles an hour. Once, when you were having lunch in the cafeteria, there was another guy who came to sit with you. Andrew and Christopher, Andy and Chris for short. They tried to be subtle, but the sentences they finished for each other and them sitting like they were glued together only told you that Chris was off the market. The last you heard they live in San Francisco now.

“I totally get it if you’re trying to hide and I would never let anyone know…” you whisper to Javier, almost apologetic he has to be in a position like this with you.

“What?” He leans closer to you, clearly not catching onto what you’re trying to imply with your unsaid words.

“If you’re… you know…” A waiter walks past your table with a big, expensive looking wine bottle in hand. You lower your voice even more. “Gay?” Your voice is barely above a whisper, protective of his privacy and secret already. He leans back, stares at you, and then breaks into a rich baritone laugh. He finally looks away with his cheeks tinting pink in the low lighting.

“No,” Javier breathes out the word between chuckles and shakes his head. “I’m not gay, I just haven’t been out on dates. With anyone.”

Your mouth goes dry. “Oh, fu—” you break the curse word with a light exhale as the waiter briskly appears from the shadows.

“Good evening, I’m Jonathan and I’m going to be your waiter this evening.” He smiles at you both and whips out a little notepad and a pen. You reach for the glass in front of you, ready to take a sip of anything to make the sandpaper feel of your tongue go away. It’s empty.

Javier eyes at the motion from the corner of his eye. “If you haven’t had time to look at the menus yet, you can find the drinks on the last page, and I can tell you about some cocktail options as well if you’re interested?”

“We’ll start with a bottle of water, thank you. Would you like some wine?” Javier asks, the pink on his skin settling down.

“Rosé?” Your voice is begging for some moisture.

“And a glass of your best rosé for my date,” Javier orders effortlessly. Jonathan writes it down swiftly, already a seasoned veteran in his job even though his skin is still smooth and there’s a boyish twinkle in his eyes.

“Water for the table and a rosé for the lady, I’ll be back in a moment.” He leaves just as smoothly as he appeared.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to make assumptions, I just thought I had put two and two together and… I’m sorry, it also wouldn’t be my place to even know if you were,” you ramble while your palms start to sweat.

The gentle smile on Javier switches to his eyes narrowing while getting stuck on words that start the game up again. The way he listens to you, intense and all his focus on you, makes you shut up. He doesn’t care that Jonathan comes back with a thick glass bottle of water in one hand, which he places on the table next to the flowers, and a tall wine glass in his other hand, which he places in front of you.

You smile at him while Javier’s acknowledgement is mostly just a quick side look and a quiet “thank you”, that he says to you rather than the server. It doesn’t take too much investigating to know what exactly he heard between your words.

“You had put two and two together, huh?” There’s no backing out now.

“There’s something I heard…” He’s somehow even closer now, leaning his forearm against the table, crowding you with his broad shoulders, his smell that’s somewhere between leather, soap and cigarette smoke and his voice that’s still ringing in your ears.

To some his presence could be intimidating. It could make them cower, make them lose their own voice and submit to him. Yet when you sit next to him, you don’t get the urge to back down. You see the softness in his jaw, the curiosity that twinkles somewhere in the smooth crow’s feet next to his eyes, in how he patiently waits for you to keep on going no matter what it is.

“Abigail said something about you almost getting married?” Javier’s sudden, but subtle inhale is an answer in itself. He turns from you and busies himself pouring water for you and for himself.

“So that’s what was bothering you in the car the other day.” He doesn’t even look at you. It’s only an observation.

He most likely saw how relieved it made you to say it out loud after holding onto questions you know you’re not going to get answers to anytime soon. He’s a brick wall and he’s not going to say another word.

“Should I know something, so I won’t be blindsided with whatever people tell me?” If you’re still playing the game you two have been unconsciously playing, you’re winning by heaps. This game just seems awfully unfair and not something you’ll celebrate winning.

“You already have something on your mind?” The cold look on his face could shut up anyone.

“What happened between you and her, your ex-fiancée?” Javier lifts his chin almost in defiance. He breathes through his mouth, his lower lip puffing out under the now well-groomed mustache. Then he looks at you, crowds your personal bubble again.

He holds his arm over the back of the velvet couch you’re both sitting on. His eyes are unfocused just past you, his thoughts taking him back to another time in his life. To another version of him.

“We had a rough patch for a few months because of a job I applied for, and we were talking about splitting up. She told me she was pregnant and that changed everything.” His voice is monotonous, like he’s reading a script.

Then his eyes focus on you and a mirthless little smile invades his face with pain. You’re instinctively ready to plant your palm against his cheek, to let him lean on you for a moment. You press your hands together tighter to keep yourself from exploring that action.

“We were going to get married, until the night before the wedding when she told me she made it up. She was holding out hope I would still marry her but we both knew that wasn’t going to happen. I left, she stayed, life moved on.”

“Where did you go then?”

“I took a job in Colombia.”

“Tell me about it,” you urge him without a pause.

His shoulders stiffen instantly. He takes you in, watches you with unblinking eyes, and like he gets zapped by an electric shock, he notices how close he is to you.

As he pulls himself slowly away from you, the first thing you notice is how the heat from his body leaves you as well.

Then it’s his breath from his parted lips that doesn’t blow gently against your face anymore.

Then it’s his smell.

His arm slides against the back of the dark velvet of your seating, his hand against the thick tablecloth.

Then, it’s his knee. When he pulls the last few inches of his body away from you, his knee leaves yours under the table. It was a steady pressure, a connection of clothed skin against clothed skin, yet it was branding you hot.

You hadn’t even noticed it until now when it’s gone. Almost like his knee had always pressed against yours under tables, in secret but still in plain sight if you knew what you were supposed to look for.

Your knee cools fast, even in the comfortable warmth of the restaurant.

Last, he turns his face from you. You’re sensitive to the loneliness next to him when he shuts himself off from you. Milliseconds tick away and each gives your brain a jolt of restlessness.

You’d want to reach your hand out, not necessarily to even touch him, but to get closer to him. Not for your sake, but his.

The hurt he doesn’t want to talk about hangs heavily over him and the longer he’s quiet, shut away from you, the likelier it is that the topic is off limits. Never something for you to know about, or something for you to even ask about. It’s a hard line and he’s drawing it in the sand.

Jonathan strolls in, breaking the tension in the air.  “Have you had time to decide on the menu options or would you like me to tell you about our specials?” You scramble to open your menu and straighten your back, fixing a smile on your face to tell him that he’s not disrupting anything. The worry in his eyes calms instantly.

“What are the specials?” You ask him just as Javier takes the menu in his hands, opens it slowly and drifts back to the present moment.

Jonathan starts to repeat a list of dishes from his little note pad, pointing at each with his pen. The ingredients and options fly right through your ears, and nothing sticks to the Teflon of your understanding.

You nod your head while reading the menu at the same time, hyper aware of Javier’s tight jaw and presence next to you, heavily pressing against your right side. He wants to say something, but Jonathan is still reading the list he has written down.

“I’ll have the pasta, please,” you tell him before he can start with the desserts.

“The lemon and shrimp pasta?” Jonathan raises his brows, his pen immediately ready to write.

“Sure!” You smile, only remembering hearing the word pasta, but not any of the other ingredients.

”Steak for me, medium rare, please,” Javier shuts the menu and hands it to the server.

“Anything else you’d like?”

“We’re waiting for that rosé we ordered?” Jonathan’s face flashes bright red, immediately going back to his notepad and finding the right ticket.

“I’m so extremely sorry, I’ll be back with it right away.” He ducks his head low and speedwalks away.

“You don’t have to know more about Colombia than what you’ve probably already heard from people and their big mouths,” Javier’s low voice mumbles as he turns back to you.

It’s deep enough to vibrate into your ears and send shivers down from the back of your neck to the small of your back. There’s an intensity in his eyes that melts immediately when he sees you run your necklace between your fingers and the wide-eyed shock as he’s suddenly talking to you again.

The assumption hits you like a slap across your face. “I haven’t heard anything, just that Chucho’s son is back in town. How would I have known the guy I met at a party would be him? Or that he’d ask me to fake date him so people wouldn’t ask questions? And you really think I go around seeking gossip and making decisions about others based on those?” The words flow fast and sting in the back of your throat as you try to calm the odd tension between you two.

Jonathan flies in with a fancy full bottle of wine in his hand and another tall glass between his fingers.

“As compensation we’d like to offer you a free glass of wine, if that’s okay. I’m incredibly sorry I forgot to bring this earlier.” His boyish features carry shame in a self-deprecating way that manages to zap even more energy into your annoyance.

“Yes, thank you.” The smile on your face is tight, but you can’t let the irritation spill into your voice. Javier is still sitting turned towards you. His figure relaxes. His arms visibly lose their hard stiffness even in the corner of your eye.

You don’t have enough patience for tantrums from a man who you’re on a pretended first date with. Instead, you watch Jonathan pour the rosé into the tall, high-rimmed glasses. The drink flows in like the time has slowed down, your questions to Javier hanging between you two. Yet Jonathan doesn’t seem to notice or care that now his presence isn’t welcomed. You want to hear what Javier has to say.

“I’m sorry,” Javier says immediately when Jonathan is out of earshot. He takes a deep breath and taps the fingers of his right hand against the table. “I’ve been…”

“Your dinner will be served shortly.” Jonathan comes back once more with utensils and places them onto your napkins.

“Thank you,” you repeat in unison with Javier, relieved Jonathan leaves. The whole restaurant is booming with chatter, your conversation with Javier staying under the volume. You take a deep breath and take a sip of your wine.

“Good?” The sweeter notes hide the first signs of dryness in the warm pink wine, until they spread around your tongue like a blanket.

“Good,” you answer and set the glass down. You turn towards Javier as well, finding him once again closer than you expected. “What were you about to say?” He bows his head down and shakes his head lightly.

“I’ve been waiting for you to ask me something that I don’t want to talk about since I took you to town earlier and you still managed to surprise me.” He calculates each word, his voice slow and soft, each word following each other in a careful manner.

Slowly they bring out his confidence again. His knee taps against yours and then settles there. This time you’re sensitive to the feel of him, unexpected and still completely expected from him to use his body to ground you.

“You’re welcome?” The bite in your tone has shifted into sarcasm. The wine spreads warmth through you. Your second sip gently relaxes you in the moment.

“People like to talk here, that’s how they’ve always been and will always be. I’m sorry that I was too much in my own head to give you the benefit of the doubt.” He’s sincere. It’s obvious from his unwavering eye contact and the determination that has settled between his brows.

He leans slowly against the back of the couch. His other arm rises naturally behind you, to rest on the velvet. He’s taking up his space while still making your little booth a bubble just for the two of you. He’s not demanding you to be in it, he’s also not forcing you to even stay still with your knees knocked together, yet here you are, with no intention to move.

“Now I know you haven’t dated anyone in a while.”

Him sitting like that, relaxed and his attention on you and your words, in the nervous tick of you touching the minimal links of your necklace, gives you enough confidence to bring the conversation back to something that surprised you as well. He chuckles. It’s an action he might not do too often as he hides his smile by looking away from you.

“How did you know about this place then, if you’ve never been here before?” He brings himself back to you and leans forward. You don’t know how he does it, but once again he’s closer. So much closer. He drops his left hand behind you onto the seat, and the length of his arm presses across your back, like an extra support.

“See that man over there?” He pointedly looks at a table in the middle of the room, the same one where the judgmental woman was sitting earlier. She has left and has been replaced by a much younger woman in a tight top and her hair in a perfect updo with strategic flyways curled on her temples and the back of her neck.

Across from her sits a man with salt and pepper hair and a body that is wide and round. He smiles at the woman who is holding the menu in her hands, an uncomfortable server standing next to them with her notepad open. You don’t hear them, but you can imagine the man urging his date to order anything she wants from the list, while she’s struggling to make a decision between a salad or fries to go along with her rib eye. You nod your head and lean your ear a little closer to Javier. He inhales right next to it and breathes out so slowly that the air gets trapped between you two. He does it without tickling your ear.

“He caught his ex-wife cheating while he was away on some cruise with his girlfriend. Guess who won the court case because the judge knew him in school and is now flaunting his alimony to make the ex-wife jealous.”

“You serious?” Javier hasn’t fallen far from the tree of this town.

“Yeah. Little does he know the ex is going to sue him for the alimony and will most likely win because he has been hiding his assets. Or that’s at least what people have been saying, because he comes here every week with the girlfriend.”

“You know what?” The younger woman gives her menu back to the server, and she folds her hands under her chin. The innocent move with the smile she has on her face is so rehearsed that the performance could be from a low budget movie that gets people talking for about a week because of the age difference between the actors and then everyone will forget about it.

You turn to look at Javier, your noses only inches away from each other. You can count every pore on his face, the deep brown of his eyes like burnt candy, aware of your proximity before you even focused on him, his attention on you like it had never even left.

“You’re a great gossip,” you say jokingly, but not really joking.

“Ugh,” he gasps out a chuckle and turns back to the other guests with a shake of his head. “You can thank my dad for that, he always tells me what’s going on around town. I don’t really care what people are doing unless someone I know is involved.”

“Have you heard any juicy rumors about someone you know lately?” Curiosity takes over.

“You,” he says, almost proud when you whip back to him with your eyes wide.

“Me?”

“Yeah, a little bird tells me you’re seeing Javier Peña.”

“Oh great, haha, very funny.”

“That’s what I’ve heard.”

“Wait, are you serious? People are actually talking about us?”

“Yes,” Javier laughs. “And now they’ll be talking even more.”

“How would you know?” You bring your wine glass to your lips. A couple of tables over is a woman, probably in her forties, who stares at you two intently.  She looks like someone who you’ve seen at the bakery before too, but you can’t remember her name.

With a jolt she notices you’ve caught her, and she immediately looks away. A few tables from hers a couple of older people are both looking at you from the corners of their eyes, shamelessly whispering to each other every once in a while, while still watching you. Have these people been watching this the whole time you’ve been sitting here, or did they just start?

“This place has a reputation. If you want others to know about your status or you just want to be seen, you come here, and everyone will be talking about it in a few days if the gossip’s juicy enough.” Javier explains into your ear.

“And the note trick, at the bakery? You knew that as well”

“Outsiders will always want to know what a note says if it’s given to someone visibly enough to make it seem like a botched attempt at trying to be sneaky.”

“You know awful lot about things like that,” you wonder out loud while you scan the whole restaurant. Your eyes sweep past someone very familiar.

“Abigail and Noah are here,” you whisper to Javier, and smile at him. He catches on immediately.

Even though you’re not looking at her anymore, you can still sense her eyes drilling into you. She’s making your date with Javier something that’s forbidden. You can already hear her voice in your head tell you off for not cancelling the date even after her warnings about him being untrustworthy.

“Like I said, this place has a reputation. Some people come here just to see what they could talk about for the next week.” he says into your ear. His breath tickles against your skin. So, she’s here to check if you’re really going out with Javier. Maybe that’s a good thing. Maybe she’ll let her obsession of you finding a date for the wedding go and she won’t bat an eye when you show up there with a date who she hasn’t chosen for you.

“Relax. They might be watching us, but we don’t have to care about any of them.” As soon as he says it, any of them, you notice that it’s not just a couple of people who have noticed you. It’s everyone.

Some are more discreet, hide their prying eyes into checking the time on their wrist watches or hiding behind their hands as they fix their hair. The booth you’re sitting in might be by the back wall, in the dim lighting, but it doesn’t mean that you would be invisible to others. On the contrary, it seems like you’re sitting at the perfect spot for others to see you two sitting almost skin to skin, his arm behind you, still pressing against your back and giving you something to lean on when the dread hits.

This isn’t about a date for a wedding anymore. This is something that will follow you to the bakery, to grocery shopping trips, to the post office. The only ones who will stay in the dark are people who don’t live in your town, and even those who might hear rumors but won’t understand who are the two who have now apparently found each other. This was supposed to be simple, an arrangement so the people who won’t get off your backs about a date would stop talking. Now, everyone else will be doing the talking instead.

“Why are they all so nosey?” You try not to show distaste on your face with the question. You still have to school your nose and upper lip to stop wrinkling.

“Maybe they’re bored,” Javier questions out loud, sounding like he has thought about this before too. “Or then it’s because it’s you and it’s me. They know me well enough, they know my history. Do they know yours?” It’s a genuine question which you don’t know the answer to.

“I’ve lived here for years now, I shouldn’t be a stranger.”

“Maybe not, but you’re not from here either.”

“And that’s a problem?”

“No,” Javier laughs, almost too obvious for him to even answer you. He shakes his head and a smirk settles onto his lips that makes the other side of his smile crook up bringing out a playfulness that tells you this isn’t the first time he has used his knowledge to create such scenarios where you’re at. He knows the patterns and details, he knows how to get under people’s skin. Most importantly, he knows how to use those details to his benefit.

“You’re enjoying this aren’t you?” You ask him genuinely curious to know what’s going on inside his head. He doesn’t hide it either, the mischievous glint in the burnt amber of his eyes that are searching for your reactions every second as you take in the situation you’re in.

“It beats the sweaty farm work.” You can’t help but laugh and he joins you.

“Can I ask you something?” the laughter ripples into gentle smiles where you try to hide your fear he’ll lock himself away from you again. He waits, still relaxed, not showing any signs of pulling away from you this time.

“In Colombia,” you pause to see how he responds. He swallows and breathes out a long breath, all the air from his lungs, but still refuses to leave you stranded. “What did you do there? What were you working on?”

“You really haven’t heard?” He asks instantly. His brows dip lower and his eyes narrow. His knee is locked against yours.

“No, I haven’t.”

“What are you thinking I did there then?” Flipping the question to you.

“Hmmm,” you sigh out and lean back a little. His arm presses against your back almost like he’s making sure that you won’t fall off the couch even though there’s no risk of that happening. Or then he’s keeping you from moving away too much.

You look at him, truly look at him. You’ve seen him before too, but those have been times when it has almost been like watching him through a curtain. You’ve been too afraid to show him that you’re truly seeing him for who he is.

The face is a given. All the freckles from staying out in the sun for long, the gold flecked eyes, the well-trimmed mustache, the plushy lips that are about to crack into a wider smile as he watches you watch him. The thick arches of his brows and the lines between them from frowning tell you he has spent a long time stressed, even worried. His tanned skin is another.

But then there’s the strong neck, the chest that wants to peek through the neckline of his button-down, his wide shoulders that protect and support, the strength of his biceps bulging through the cotton of his shirt. He turns his head a little and his nose reminds you of those roman historical figures you read about in school. He’s fit, but in the way that he does a lot of physical activities, rather than hitting the gym seven times a week.

“I honestly don’t know. You could work in IT based on your extensive shirt collection, maybe an engineer of some sort, or then you were, I don’t know, in military? You seem disciplined enough.” He actually laughs at that, and it pulls you back in. He sighs, mutters “disciplined enough, hmmm,” to himself and watches you, in similar manner as you did him.

It’s impossible for you to decipher what he sees when he looks at you like that, with his eyes a little squinted, slowly moving from one part of your face to the next, looking at your hair, then down your neck, to the necklace, and down still, moving quickly past your chest to stop at your middle and the hem of your dress that rests high up your pillowy thighs.

He’s kind with his observations. You could easily fall into insecurity and unease, but he makes sure he’s soft with his expression and how he handles you while you’re sitting so close to him.

“I think I’ve heard a joke somewhere, about a baker and an ex-DEA agent walking into a restaurant…” You immediately tut at him and almost roll your eyes too, shaking your head, when he takes your wrist into his hand and presses gently, forcing you to focus.

“That’s why they care, because of the life I’ve lived somewhere else, the people I’ve come to contact with.” His answer makes the sarcasm drift off from your answer to him. He’s not joking. The hand on your wrist stays, but it forces you to take in the information he has given you.

“So you were…” How do you even ask someone about a life that included, maybe still does, so much danger. He finally looks away, to his hand locked around your skin. “You were in Colombia working as a DEA agent?”

“Yes.”

Of course you’ve seen the news over the years, about cartels and drugs. Of drug lords and the complicated power play people have had to play either as outsiders or as participants.

No wonder people were talking about Javier coming back home after everything that went down there. The whole town must be proud of him. He looks up, through his lashes, somehow the light in his eyes darker.

The people in town, even in this restaurant, might feel proud of him, but the look in his eyes tells a different story. The others might put him on a pedestal, see him as a hero of some sort. He disagrees.

“You want to ask me about it?”

“Do you want me to?” it’s not your choice or decision. He has to be the one to tell you about it, in his own time, if he ever feels comfortable enough.

“Not now,” Javier straightens his back and lifts his chin, his eyes following something.

“Okay!” Jonathan strolls back in just as you turn to look at what Javier was already following. “The pasta for the lady,” he places the plate with steaming fettuccine pasta topped with parsley, thin lemon slices and fat shrimps in front of you.

“And here’s the steak, medium rare,” Jonathan turns the plate in front of Javier, the piece of meat glistening in the low lighting, green beans and a creamy dollop of mashed potatoes next to it, a quenelle of what looks like seasoned butter melting over it.

“Thank you,” you repeat at the same time with Javier again, like little kids trained to say the right words at the right times. Jonathan nods and sweeps past your table, head held high like an ostrich looking around with its tall neck. He observes his surroundings and immediately moves faster when an older man’s hand raises up a couple of tables over.

You follow Javier’s lead in taking your cutlery in your hands and twirl pasta around the fork. It’s salty, tangy, a little sweet, and the shrimp comes through with a fishy meatiness that you wouldn’t have missed until at the last moment.

Javier eats slowly, enjoying each bite, forcing you to pace yourself as well. If you were alone, and at home, you would probably listen to the rumble in your stomach and be done with the plate in a record amount of time.

While you eat, you forget about the others around you. There’s only you and Javier. The silence between you two is comfortable, almost soothing you to forget about your friend sitting on the other side of the restaurant with her fiancé, still keeping an eye on you and your every move.

Javier is cutting a piece off his steak when the knife slows down in thought. You help more pasta in your mouth when he sets his cutlery down completely and reaches for his wine glass. Now Abigail’s observing eyes aren’t the only ones you can feel on you.

“You asked me questions, I think it’s fair if I ask you something as well.” He’s calm and collected, while you nod with your mouth full. You wipe some of the sauce from the corner of your mouth hastily and try to chew so he doesn’t have to wait for an answer for long. You’re an open book, whatever he asks, it can’t be worse than what you asked him.

“You wanted to know if there’s something you could be blindsided with. Is there anything like that I should know about you?” There’s a last little bit of pasta waiting between your teeth and you stop chewing immediately when you hear his question.

Maybe you were being a little naïve, thinking he’d ask something specific about where you grew up or how you ended up in this town, how you met Abigail or how your bakery came to be. An open-ended question like his, it makes your thoughts spiral out of control. Your fingers reach for your necklace, and you can’t look at him.

“Uhh,” you mumble when your mouth is finally empty. “I’ve never dated anyone before.” It seems like the safest answer. His eyes are fixed on your necklace, until they’re not. Disbelief settles on the lines between his brows.

“You’re joking.” He’s not even asking, only stating his disbelief.

“There just hasn’t been anyone who was special enough. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve gone out on dates but those have never evolved into anything more serious.” Javier huffs out a breath at your answer.

“What?”

“Seems hard to believe you would’ve never dated anyone.”

“Well, you better start believing.” The song with the similar lyrics starts playing in your head. He shakes his head, and then focuses back on your hand that’s still playing with the golden chain against your chest.

“That’s a beautiful necklace.”

“Oh, thanks!” You press it against your skin with your palm.

“Has someone given it to you?” You blink at him, head emptying immediately. You try to smile but have tears pricking at your eyes instead.

“From my mom.” Your voice is eerily steady, so much steadier than you usually would have it.

“It must be special then?” Javier’s voice drops. His observing nature doesn’t miss the change in your mood or the way you look away from him. Your hand drops to your lap, but your throat is filling with heaviness.

“Yeah,” you manage to choke out before you clear it. There hasn’t been a moment when Javier’s presence would’ve been too intense, too observant or too close. Yet now he’s too close.

The knee against yours is still pulling you in like a magnet and the pressure is too deep. His watchful eyes see too much, and you have nowhere to hide. Your discomfort is too palpable that even you’d want to get away from it.

You force yourself to pick up the fork and collect the last pieces of pasta onto it. You put it in your mouth and chew slowly in hopes of getting your throat to understand there’s no reason to be afraid. Javier won’t push it. If he would, he already would’ve done it.

He sits silently next to you, his hand resting on his thigh. You focus on it and the way his fingers curl against the dark fabric of his slacks. His knuckles are only a fraction of an inch away from your thigh. Luckily he doesn’t reach you.

“Are the toilets where?” You turn to him suddenly, catching him off guard. The gentle sadness on his face could break your heart if you weren’t so determined to leave for a moment. He’s sensitive to you, how you want to physically get away from his questions.

“It’s fine, she is living a good life. Sometimes I miss her. I… I’m sorry if I’m being weird about it but I don’t think about her that often really. We are doing our own thing.” You’re sensitive to him as well. You can’t leave him hanging or give him the impression that something is completely wrong with you or your mom.

“Okay,” he nods, accepting anything from you at this point.

“The toilets?” You ask again and he looks past you.

“I think they’re behind the corner there,” he points a finger towards the host’s table. You smile at him, a reassurance that you’re okay, before you make your way to the ladies room.

There’s no one else in the small toilet. Two stalls with open doors and a sink with a round mirror on the wall make you sigh out long. Your eyes sting with salty tears, so does your nose. You lock yourself in one of the stalls and take a wad of toilet paper from the dispenser, dapping at your under eyes frantically to not make the tears smudge your mascara. You take deep breaths in and blow them out slowly through your mouth.

The door to the toilet opens and closes. Heels click against the tiled floor. The woman on the other side of the stall opens the faucet and water starts splashing against the ceramic bowl. The normalcy of the action, even when you can’t see the other person, calms your racing memories. You dry the last remnants of wetness from your cheeks and flush the toilet paper.

Abigail is turned towards you when you open the stall door.

“What did he do?” She asks immediately when she sees you. You stand in the doorway, unable to move. This is the first time you’re talking since you last saw her at her house. What she said still stings, how she thinks Javier is using you and you’ll only be a conquest for him. Little does she know you’re both using each other and not for what she thinks.

“Nothing, I’ve just been a bit stressed.” You walk past her to the sink and start washing your hands in the running water. When you turn the faucet off, Abigail’s attempted calm breaths sound too loud in your ears.

“Please be honest with me. He clearly hurt you someway already, proving my point.” She places her hand on your shoulder and the too sweet look in her eyes, too much empathy, wipes away any sincerity she might’ve otherwise had on her face.

You shake your head and wipe your fingertips along your lower lash line. Your reflection in the mirror looks decent still, the tears haven’t turned your eyes red, and your makeup is still intact.

“Abigail,” you turn to her and look at her in the eyes. “He didn’t hurt me. We are having a good time together. I’ve been stressed lately, and it has nothing to do with him.” Your lies seem pretty believable to your ears. If confronting her wasn’t as serious as it now is, you’d be laughing how the last sentence couldn’t be farther from the truth.

“Are you sure? Because it looked like he said something that upset you and I don’t want to see him do that to you.” She rubs her hand against your shoulder, exactly where you’ve had the tight muscle. It’s not comforting for you, instead it makes you tighten your shoulder, and it complains immediately.

“Yes, I’m sure! You don’t have to be worried about me. I love you, but let me handle this on my own, okay?” Abigail sighs and drops her hand. She looks disappointed, almost like she was looking for the juiciest gossip just like Javier said.

“Okay then. But there’ll come a day when you will be hurt by him, and I’ll be there for you when that happens.” She tilts her head, and the empathetic downturn of her eyes almost makes yours roll a complete 360.

“Will you be there for me even when nothing happens?” You ask Abigail. Her empathy resolves into a smile that you’ve come to recognize as insincere. She still looks warm, just like a friend would. But there’s a tightness in her cheeks and the corners of her mouth that makes your alarm bells go off in your gut. You realize why that is. The smile doesn’t reach her eyes, they’re hard and keeping an eye on you. Just like out in the restaurant, when she was watching you and Javier eat.

“Come here,” she coaxes and pulls you in for a hug. You wrap your arms around her and feel her stiff body against yours. “Of course I’ll be here for you, no matter what goes down! You can always count on me.” She squeezes you against her one last time before she lets go but keeps her hands on your shoulders.

“I’ve missed you!” She gushes and shakes you gently. It has always made you laugh when she has done that. Almost like it’s a tradition for her to tell you she has missed you, driving every word home by shaking you by the shoulders. The tension between you to reminds you of the sweet times you’ve had together but you don’t get that sense of relief of someone missing you now.

“I’ve missed you too,” you tell her. For the first time ever it’s only a half truth. There have been times when you’ve missed Abigail a lot, and there have been times now that you’re not as close friends anymore, where you’ve found yourself to be missing her. Saying those words makes unease fall to the pit of your stomach and it stays there. Almost like this is the last time things will be somewhat normal between the two of you.

“Will you be ready soon?” She asks.

“No, I don’t think so.” You try to find smooth mellowness as you walk back into the restaurant hand in hand. “We might order some dessert still.” You tell her. You shouldn’t look at her, but you do and there’s no smile or empathy on her face. Only cold doubt that she tries to hide with a laughed out “aha!”.

“I hope you enjoy the rest of your date night,” you tell her and move to let go of her hand.

“Remember what I told you,” she holds on tight, forcing you to turn to him.

“I’m okay, there’s nothing to worry about.” She nods and lets go.

Javier is watching you when you turn to come back to your table. His eyes follow Abigail as she walks behind you to the opposite direction. When you’re only a few steps away from sitting down, he looks up at you and smirks.

“What was that about?”

“Nothing, she’s worried you’re going to use me.” You scoff and scoot back next to him. Were you really sitting this close to him? Your knees knock together again and stay there. The pressure that radiated against you earlier has disappeared and you easily welcome his physical touch again.

“Is that so?” His eyes linger on your thighs when you fix the hem of your dress after you’ve settled back in your seat.  

“I think you were right. She just wants gossip.” He quickly glances at her, then shakes his head.

“That doesn’t surprise me.”

“Where are the plates?” You were almost ready to fix yours up for taking.

“The server got them and offered me this,” Javier gives you the dessert menu bound in dark leather.

“I was just thinking we could get something!” Your enthusiasm about a possible dessert is contagious. He leans closer to see the pages of the little booklet in your lap. You turn it towards him. Javier leans his other hand behind you again. It would be so easy to bend towards him, to make space for yourself against his shoulder. It doesn’t seem right, you don’t know how he’d react. How even you would react.

“Find anything interesting?” He mumbles against your ear. The sound makes you swallow instantly.

“The triple layer chocolate cake sounds interesting.” Heat rises up with chills on the spot where his breath gently tickles your skin.

“I agree.” He signs for Jonathan to come by your table, and he takes the lead naturally. Javier takes the menu from you when you hold it out for him and his back straightens when he speaks with the server, ordering two pieces of cake.

“Actually, let’s share a piece, if that’s okay with you?” You ask Javier. His lips part as he looks at you and his lower lip naturally puffs out.

“I’m fine with that.” He turns back to Jonathan and changes the order. His eyes glint as he looks at you two, a little mischievous edge to them. You’re not sure if Jonathan is from town or from somewhere else, but the knowing look he gives you two is a good indication of your plan working. Maybe you just need to lean into the flirty gestures and weirdness of going out with someone only for show.

Javier turns back to you as Jonathan makes his way to the kitchen. There’s disbelief in the low smirk of his, intrigue in the few smile lines next to his eyes.

“I was looking forward to eating a slice by myself,” he accuses, clearly more offended he didn’t come up with the order on his own, but you outshone him in his own game once again.

“I was thinking, let’s give them all what they want. I can give you more chocolate cake from the bakery any day anyway.”

“I chose wisely. Not everyone has a bakery and access to chocolate cake at all times.” He makes you laugh, genuinely bursting a bubble of restriction and bringing out a sound that starts with gentle giggles and ends with your teeth showing and your eyes scrunching shut for a second.

When you open them, Javier’s smirk has evolved into a gentle smile, almost proud of his success in finding what kind of humor works on you.

“Look,” he begins and brushes his fingers against the lines between his brows, smoothing them. “I didn’t want to overstep with my questions, I’m sorry.” The words hold meaning. How many times have you been apologized to, sincerely? You can’t remember. There are no expectations, only honesty.

“I forgive you.” You let go of the rest of the heaviness. Javier smiles and nods. He moves his hand behind you, so his arm is gently pressed along your back again.  

Jonathan comes back with the chocolate cake. It looks decadent, moist, the layers thick and the filling creamy. There’s a generous dollop of Chantilly cream next to it on the plate. The taste isn’t bad either, even though you would’ve added a little espresso in the cake to bring out the flavors of the chocolate more. It doesn’t matter in the end.

You notice Javier taking a piece and close his eyes for a second after tasting the cake. His spoon hangs from his fingers and he eats slowly, even more so than his dinner.

“You like it?”

“Your chocolate cake has to be a hundred times better than this or I’ll be disappointed we didn’t order that second slice.” Maybe it’s the wine, it most likely is the wine, but you laugh again. He’s milking them from you now, and it’s almost unfair you haven’t managed to make him laugh yet.

The thought freaks you out. You can’t be thinking about making him laugh. This arrangement needs some structure. That way there’s no danger of emotions getting in the way. You can’t get attached.

“What do you say about coming up with some ground rules for our little deal?” You drop your voice. He automatically leans closer and looks around you to make sure no one else hears you two from your little bubble of privacy.

“What do you have in mind?”

“Hand holding is fine, so is cheek kisses. Public touching in general.”

“What about what we’re doing now?” Javier looks between you two, the little proximity you have to each other.

“I think this is fine. Are you okay with it?”

“Yeah, it’s fine.”

“I also want us to have fun. This is a silly thing anyway, no need to make it complicated and weird.” He nods at your words and takes one more bite of the cake. He has left the best part, the middle, for you with plenty of cream still on the plate. “And dancing! We have to dance at the wedding at least.”

“I don’t dance.”

“What! Sure, you do! And even if you didn’t, you can’t be much more helpless than I am.” He blinks slowly and nods, not being able to argue back.

“I have a request…” Javier almost reaches for the water but then decides to go for the wine. He washes the cake down with it while his glass still has plenty left. “I want you to talk to me. Don’t keep things to yourself if something bothers you. We have to be on the same page about things and if we’re not honest, this won’t work.” What a way to bring the silly mood down.

“You’re right,” you can’t deny it. “Okay, so honesty, dancing and physical touch, I think we’ve covered our bases.”

“I agree.” He holds the wine glass in his hand and brings it towards you. Automatically you take yours into your hand as well and go to clink it against his. Javier pulls it back, a little naughty spark lighting his smirk and spiking your nerves.

“Just try not to fall in love with me,” he says under his breath, then clinks his glass against yours. “I could corrupt you.” He drops his chin but never drops his gaze. It stays on you from the shadows of his lashes that line those wickedly dripping, burnt honey eyes.

You clink your glass against his for the second time, surprising him. “You might corrupt me,” you try to match his mood, dropping your chin while mirroring his moves and keep your voice low. “But I won’t be the one falling in love.”

The grin on his face falters, the corner on one side shaking slightly before it falls, revealing something else in the confident exterior. A crack, a hairline fracture in the well-constructed personality of one Javier Peña. The chuckle that you laugh out loud surprises even you, but he immediately joins you, and takes a sip of his drink, now mirroring you.

There’s two bites of the cake left. Carefully you take a spoonful and smother it in cream. You bring it to your mouth and even from that angle you can see some of the whipped Chantilly fall from the edge. Immediately you drop your spoon and lean back against Javier’s arm and check your dress. Of course it landed on the hem. You sigh out a disappointed grunt and push the plate towards him.

“You can have the rest,” you nod towards the cake and take the napkin off the table to clean your dress.

“Wait,” Javier’s voice makes you look up. He stares at the corner of your mouth, almost fixated on it.  With his thumb and forefinger, he brings your cheek against his palm.

It’s the cream, a light and airy dollop of it stuck on your face. Javier reaches his thumb towards your mouth and takes the rest of the cream onto his finger, running the tip of it gently against your lip, more than is necessary.

His eyes are focused on your lips, how you swallow. His mouth opens instinctively with yours. You feel an exhale on your face, a little shaky, sweet from the dessert. Your face burns and your skin prickles with his touch, with him being so close that you can count his lashes.

Like a sudden realization his eyes lock with yours. “Is this okay?” You’re frozen in place, held by him, by his hand and by the dark in his eyes. By his breath and by his smell. By his body and his voice that rings in your ears. You nod, shutting up the voice in your head that is screaming at you that this isn’t just a fake date. It’s a real date.

No, it’s not.

Javier pulls his hand back, leaving you shaken and your skin tingling. You take a sip of your wine, much larger than it needs to be, and the dryness burns in your throat for a moment. You expect him to wipe his thumb on the thick, fancy napkin, but instead, and without a second thought, he brings the tip of his thumb against his lips and licks it clean.

“You can have the rest,” he tells you, pointing at the last piece of the cake. He lifts his hand when Jonathan walks past your table. “Can we have the check, please.” He writes with an invisible pen in the air and the server nods. You eat the last piece and make sure there’s no cream left on your face this time around. It would only be embarrassing if it happened again.

He digs out his wallet from his back pocket, picking out cash while looking at the piece of paper.

“I can pay my half of the bill.” Your purse pops open with a satisfying softness of the magnets separating.

“It’s my treat,” he waves his hand towards you, still focused on reading the bill. With neat handwriting he scribbles the tip amount on the receipt. “You can pay next time.” He looks back up at you when he has attached the money under a small paperweight on the little metallic platter.

“Ready?” He asks and you nod. He lets you scoot out of the booth first and then follows close behind. His hand lands, gently, on the small of your back and guides you to take a detour. You go where he leads you to. It doesn’t surprise you, but it does make you nervous. His hand snakes to take yours in his. His palm heats your skin up instantly, pressing an imprint in your hold.

“What’s little brother doing here, out on a date?” Javier jokes when you slow down and stop right in front of the engaged couple. Noah laughs and grabs Abigail’s hand. She smiles but her eyes are tightly on you and Javier.

“We heard someone might be coming here for a date as well, had to make sure I wasn’t hearing a bunch of hogwash. And here you are,” Noah swoons at you two.

They have dessert plates in front of them, a devoured crème brûlée for him, half a cheesecake still left for Abigail. Her hard eyes travel between you and Javier, up and down, until they focus on your linked hands.

Maybe it’s out of spite, maybe you’re looking for support, maybe it’s the wine giving you a little extra confidence, but you twine your fingers through Javier’s. You look up at him. His hand tightens around yours at the same time as his jaw flexes. He smiles, his shoulders a little more pulled back. He catches you in the corner of his eye. He squeezes his hand once.

“A special girl deserves a special date.” Fire flames against your cheeks immediately and you all laugh. Abigail’s voice is shriller than you’ve ever heard before. Javier squeezes your hand once more, then a second time, like a quiet “this okay?”. You reassure him by squeezing his hand back and lifting your other hand to cradle his bicep in your palm. Abigail notices it immediately.

“You’re coming to Laredo with us, right? All the ones in the wedding party and their partners are coming there for a weekend.” Noah asks. Javier tenses next to you.

“You have a lot of work and stress though, maybe it’s not the best idea.” Abigail opens her mouth immediately, talking for you.

“I think I can spare a weekend.” You smile at her and try not to let the sting of her putting words in your mouth cloud your genuineness. Abigail smiles back, but in that too sweet way to hide whatever she is thinking.

“Good!” Noah looks as excited as ever, his cheeks a little pink and his eyes sparkle in the golden mood lighting.

“We have to get going now, enjoy your desserts.” Javier takes a side step, letting you find your place next to him without having to detach from his arm and hand. With a final “bye!” you let him lead you out of the restaurant. His bicep tightens against your palm.

“Are you flexing your arm?” Javier laughs at the question, slipping away from your reach. Maybe that’s enough of an answer. His hand finally lets go of yours as you get closer to the doors. It effortlessly lands on the small of your back again. A gentle pressure, not invading or forceful, only spreading heat to your back.

“You’re perfect at that, so good.” He murmurs into your ear before he opens the door for you. You smirk up at him as you move past him. The words tickle in your ear, as does the look in his eyes and the smug smile on his face.

[absolutely-normal-about-x]

X Redesign Thoughts

Here he is, the absolute unit himself! I decided to be a bit indulgent to pass small elements of his Legends Reborn design to have a loose connection. Also, I really love his command mission design, so I added that too.

His body type is more aligned with that of an actual strongman but also fat, having a stocky build compared to his peers (Also short king LMAO). Despite his heavier build, he's deceptively nimble, quickly able to catch his opponents off guard with swift blows and athletics. This man can wall jump and Dash so he knows what he’s doing-

Headcanon stuff (It’s A LOT) is down below, and some extra drawings :3.

In terms of the cannon in my head, The events of the X series sort of happened differently. Like some elements of the Iwamoto manga. Marty is more of a major character, and folks survive while others do not. X is more focused in this Au. So he’s a lot more respected and revered among humans and reploids as his title of “Father of all Reploids.” He's a legend, a guide, a protector, and a great hero. Everyone knows Mega Man X, the great hunter of legend.

He’s still the same pacifist that we know and love! He’s a bit jaded (still an emotional softie), yet still holding to the hope of humans and reploids living in coexistence. He actively works hard to achieve it, especially since he has other ways to achieve it by working in community service. It helps him retain his compassion and empathy, reminding himself what he’s fighting for, and it’s also a nice break from the fighting. But he isn’t afraid to fight back either.

A neat Idea for me is that X’s Love language comes in genuine gestures and food! However, it’s not the way that you all think; it’s more about the connections and the community that come from sharing a meal together and how people can come together to prepare it as well. X loves sharing his cooked meals that are often pretty nutritious for humans and greatly enjoyable for reploids. So it’s pretty common for him to work at soup kitchens (He makes a mean gumbo). Let’s just say that after the events of X7, Axl was greeted by a Large gift basket (the first gift basket that he had ever seen) filled with many goods and delightful treats and a note attached coming from X. He felt horrible about how he treated Axl, so he made the basket as an apology gift. X smiled when he heard Axl’s delightful noises as he scarfed down the treats from his office.

He's also the sweet husband of the world’s most loudest fish, ever causing a lot of folks to rear their head over the fact that X Fell in love with that FISH

Seriously, how did Marty score him? The world may never know

(Spoilers she kidnapped him onto their first date after X emotionally accepted her love confession with tears and a kiss.)

X loves Marty very much and doesn’t seem to be bothered by her antics, having the patience to put up with them and being able to rein her in. But also tends to be a little exasperated at times at these antics (mostly her and Zero’s petty squabbles and fights). He knows Marty is genuine and sincere, loyal to her loved ones, and has a kindness like no other. Marty’s optimism and stubbornness often prevent X from spiraling from his destructive thoughts, but he also has the gentleness to be his support and vice versa.

He and Marty have been together for decades, but an official wedding happened around the CMM era, when they felt comfortable enough to get officially married but also renew their vows.

A fun fact in my Au before the events of command mission there was special initiative to to attempt to create a Vaccine to fight back the Virus.

X actually Volunteered to be a part of finding ways to combat the maverick virus (In this Au the Virus is a lot more aggressive). To the point that X donated himself to study more of his unique immunity and how to replicate it. Eventually leading to the creation of a powerful Anti-Virus Vaccine that even surpassed the Late Doppler’s, called the X-Vaccine, named after the Hunter that donated his genetic data for the research and basically dealt a MASSIVE BLOW to the Maverick Virus threat significantly. It’s still a problem, but not as bad as before.

Now, unlike Zero, X does have a long discussion with his friends and Wife especially Zero, about his decision, letting them know what he’s going to do and stuff. Zero trusts and supports X’s choice. But he’s a bit upset with him. Alia is a part of the Anti-Virus initiative, so she kept everyone updated about X’s status until he was released after the Vaccine was created. But also the team have some of his left over Genetic Data from the project. It’s left for safe keeping until it can be utilized for another major project :3

Currently X left the hunters to be with Marty, so he travels with his wife and her crew (or living in more quieter parts of Giga City) to enjoy a well earned retirement in much better circumstances (but still plays a huge role in diplomatic relations between humans and reploids). He trusts his friends (Mostly Axl and Zero) to keep an eye on things to keep the peace. While he focus on himself.

This out of armor ref demonstrates how truly stocky X is, a mix of fat and muscle with freckles dotting his face and a lot of body hair. Like its stated this an oddity for X to be capable of hair growth more or less body hair. It's possible that Dr. Light used to allow X’s body to mimic human traits might be something biomechanical that couldn't be explained even by the most brilliant roboticists. He also has two large scars that stand out in his torso and stomach are the ones that he was pierced with, the bottom one from the day of sigma and the other from the blast at the end of the fifth war. There's also a particular X-shaped scar on his right eye. He doesn't want to talk about the origins behind it due to a haunting incident involving force metal, Zero, Marty and Alia knew what really happened on that event it’s agreed to never speak of it.

Cute doodle of X and Axl chatting some time after the incident.

He’s more “Human” not only in a mental way but also physically sharing attributes that Reploids would have to receive specific upgrades for. His Variable X ability (Unlimited Mode) is a scientific enigma, allowing X to evolve and adapt to his environments faster under extreme circumstances and stress or potentially be blinded with full righteous fury. He rarely ever wants to go with that state due to the unpleasant memories that come with that power.

So yeah here’s my Redesign and Rambles im so happy that many of y'all voted yes for this silly thing i made I hope yall enjoy this long rambles session-

[wonderingpanda]

Hello!! Could you please either write a scenario or Headcanon for either rottmnt or bayverse x reader for pining turtles (turtles with a crush on reader) and how they try to “romance” them? Who’s more upfront who isn’t it? What kind of gestures they do? Please and thank you

Love Me Please

Rise!Turtles x Reader

Originally I was going to do both Bayverse and Rottmnt but I wrote this pretty late and couldn’t come up with many ideas for Bayverse. Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Raphael

I feel like Raph is the kind of person to act casual around his crush and then freak out later

He’ll get excited around you and try to show you extra care

He’s also going to be very worried for your safety

If you had plans to go over to the lair and end up being 10 minutes late he’s already picturing the worst

Raph does try show off his muscle and strength sometimes

Particularly if you watch him train, it’s a huge confidence boost

But his favourite moments are when you get to watch him win against one of his brothers while sparring

Oh come on you totally cheated. Sorry Leo rules are rules. That was awesome Raph! O-oh Y/N! Thanks.

He is a gentle giant so you can expect him to be extra attentive to your every need

And of course he’s giving out the best hugs of all time

While he may be pretty chill about his feelings, if you flirt with him it will leave him a flustered mess

I’m talking, he may be unable to form coherent sentences for several hours

At the end of the day, he just really wants you to like him and will always be there for you no matter what

Leonardo

Oh boy, here we go

The second Leo realised he liked you there was no more peace

You won’t get a single moment alone because this boy will just be everywhere

He’ll try every pick-up line he can think of and will find any excuse to flirt with you

The guy has no shame because he makes it look like a joke

Spoiler alert, it’s not

Have I ever told you I think you’re beautiful No, why? Cause you’re beautiful. Aww thanks Leo. *kisses on the cheek* *Dies inside*

While Leo might act confident on the outside if you try to flirt back with him his heart will instantly melt

But he’d never show it of course, he’s too cool for that

He is also a complete drama queen so he may occasionally dramatise things when talking about you with his brothers

And yes, he will talk about you frequently because how else is he meant to go over your every interaction from that day

He’s also an easily jealous person so if he sees any of your human friends as competition, hide them

Hide them fast

Another important thing to note is that he loves to show off

He’s got fighting moves, skateboard tricks, video game scores, comic collections and more

He loves you, wants you and will let you know loud and clear

But he’s only “kidding”

Donatello

Donnie is far more reserved in comparison to Leo

He also has a very complicated idea of what he wants

He wants you to know he likes you without you knowing he wants you to know he likes you

That being said, there are a lot of different ways to tell if Donnie is pining for you

He’ll feel more comfortable with you in his lab vs others

Lots of gifts and is always free for whatever favour you need

You can expect to be given more privileges around his tech

But that’s also because he wants to impress you with it

He might also make small comments to hint he likes you

What were you thinking!? Ah but you see my sweet beautiful Y/N, he wasn’t thinking. Don, quit flirting with your girlfriend and come save me! Not my girlfriend!…*whispers* yet.

He’s the kind of person who will admire from afar and won’t try to get super close physically

Although if he’s really excited then he may give you a hug or two

He will also pretend to hate any romantic aspects of holidays to hide how much he’d love to experience them with you

Valentines, mistletoe, New Years kiss, he acts like he can’t stand them

And you can bet that after every moment you two have he’ll be in his lab celebrating like there’s no tomorrow

Because a dancing Donnie is a happy Donnie

Michelangelo

Mikey just goes with the flow

Wait he likes you! Oh well, time to show tons of love and affection

It’s hard to tell if he likes you or not because he acts the same way around everyone else

Lots of physical affection, big hugs, warm smiles, hand holding

One unique thing you might be able to nitpick at though is his kisses

That’s right, Mikey will constantly be kissing your forehead or cheek if he gets the chance

You’re also one of his biggest inspirations

The amount of times this turtle will tell you to hold your pose so he can sketch it

He wants you to understand that to him you’re beautiful and inspiring

Compliments are another big thing for Mikey

He won’t stop telling you how pretty, smart and cute he thinks you are

Hey Y/N do you mind standing right there for a second? Uh sure, another drawing? Yup! Sorry you’re just so pretty I can’t stop drawing you. Awwww Mikey! That’s really sweet.

He is definitely more upfront about his feelings and is just waiting for the day he can open up and say he loves you

I hope this was similar to what you wanted. Have an amazing day/night wherever it is you are!✨

[cosmicstarlatte]

Levi A-Z Smut HCs (Obey Me!)

⬅Back to Smut HC A-Z Masterlist ◇

18+ only, minors do not interact.

My personal headcanons using this [prompt list]

The goal is to finish the whole list; you are welcome to request a letter so I get to it faster. I will work on it as quick as I can but keep in mind I do have a life & responsibilities lol. ^^

Last Updated: Oct.1.2023 (9 out of 26)

⚠️Notes: I'll tag any sections if needed. If you think a section needs a tag, kindly let me know.

A: Affair (Describe an extra-marital affair)

B: Birthday (Describe birthday sex)

C: Compliments (Mid- and post-sex compliments)

D: Dry Humping (Describe a dry-humping scene)

tags: punishment, humiliation Every once in a while you need to punish him, either he spent way too much on otaku merch or he's been missing classes too much, whatever. You'll usually sit on him & tease him as he tries to play on his PC. He knows what you're doing & he begs to feel you, please he'll 'do better' he says. Unfortunately for him his poor cock won't get that sweet relief exactly. he can beg & whine all he wants & rub desperately against you but he's still gonna have to cum in his pants.

E: Experimenting (Trying something new)

F: Firsts (First time having sex together)

It was clumsy & cute. The poor otaku was so nervous, he couldn't believe he could bag such a baddie. Someway somehow even with the nervousness he still felt calm with you, if that makes any sense. He was more worried about you than him & he just wanted to make you feel good. especially when he came rather quickly before the 1st round. Anyway, the nerd is packin' & those hands & tongue work skillfully. ...You definitely went a few good rounds into the night & left each other a mess before finally taking a sweet bath together. After, you guys cuddled under a warm blanket & watched a lighthearted anime. ♡

G: Gentle (Describe gentle/loving mid-sex gestures)

H: Handsy (When they can’t keep their hands to themselves)

I: Initiator (Who initiates most of the time? How?)

J: Jealous (“Claiming” a partner)

tags: Possessive, Love bites/Marking, Scenting Sweetie, he's the avatar of envy. When it's extreme, there's no hiding it, he gives in. That sweet shy nervous otaku? Gone. He's bringing & giving grand admiral energy, he's giving 'one of the powerful lords of hell.' Sure he could summon Lotan or use something else if he wants to, but all he really needs is to say "Go away" in a icy cold voice & glare that makes thousands of soldiers shiver. You almost feel sorry for any bastard that tries to make him jealous. Even after they leave though, he wants nothing more but to mark you with visible love bites & rub his scent all over you. He made it easily known to his brothers to not touch what's his.

K: Kitchen (Describe a sex scene in the kitchen)

L: Likes (What they like in the bedroom)

M: Morning (Describe morning sex)

It happens frequently hehe. You tend to stay over a lot to watch a marathon or play games. Levi's libido is strong, he's always down to fuck in the morning, it brightens his spirit. Watching you take his cock & filling you up right before school is the perfect way to start the day. It's especially motivating when he knows you walk around the entire day with his cum between your legs, he cant wait to come home & fuck you again. (If he can wait that long)

N: Never (Things they would never try)

O: Orgasm (Describe coming--who comes first? What do they say? How does the other person know it’s approaching?)

P: Playlist (A playlist for getting down and dirty; will probably include a lap dance song, a song for making love, and a song that represents their sex life)

Q: Quiet (Reaction to a quiet partner)

You know what I'm not gonna lie, I think he'd be just a tad disappointed at first. Of course he reminds himself a lot of porn is fake anyway & then he really tunes in to the small delicious sounds you do reveal. The faces you make. The little bits you let him hear are still so very fucking hot & sexy. He's the one making you sound like that either way~

R: Ruttish (Signs that they’re horny)

Ah...Levi is easy. He's not very good at hiding it. A flushed face and a small sheen of sweat to him. He gets a little extra irritable as well. The biggest sign is the tent in his pants when he's around you. Sorry, but he doesn't hide it very well, it's obvious when he looks like he's trying to hide something when he tries to cover up down there. (I wonder if he does it on purpose?)

S: Safe Word (How often is the safe word used? Why?)

T: Teasing (Who’s the tease in the relationship? What do they do? How often?)

U: Undressing (Strip teasing a partner)

V: Videos (Sending NSFW videos to each other)

Do you realize what you've done? The first time you sent him a video, he got instantly hard & couldnt stop cumming to that video. Unfortunately for him he kept getting hard any time he thought about it that week, it was embarrassing walking around with a constant erection. His first few videos in response were a little clumsy, but it turned you on. He was a loud moaner & he loved to whimper. Little whiney pants when he was getting close always did it for you. He made sure to take better video, especially audio when he learned you really loved his moans. ♡

W: Wedding Night (Consummating the marriage)

tags: overstimulation The only thing on his mind is getting you off the entire night until you're crying & begging him to stop. Until you're drained. He knows it's about the two of you celebrating but...you're his life partner now! He's so grateful you chose him out of everyone. Please let him worship you tonight, lay back & let him handle it. He promises he's enjoying this as much as you are. Promise.

X: XXX (What kind of porn does the person watch? How often?)

tags: double dicks, creepy!pervy!levi I'm not going to lie to y'all, Levi's a freak. (Okay we knew this) He watches all kinds of porn, both real & hentai. I'd say it's nearly an every day thing, it's hard taking care of two monster cocks & he needs to empty his balls. His favorite? POV hentai vids. Especially ones that look like you... Perhaps he has a few commissioned hentais where they look like the two of you...

Y: Yawn (How they sleep post-sex)

Z: Zoo (Their animalistic qualities in the bedroom)

[mxmspeedster]

sfw alphabet with oscar piastri

mentions of male reader and toxic relationships but nothing graphic. and swearing, but your here so thats on you. fair warning, i'm mildly dyslectic but i had grammarly to help me this time so i should be better than the last one lmao.

auto correct saved my life on this one, i wrote in two hours listening to viva la vida but lofi on repeat.

a- affection (how affectionate are they? how do they show affection?)

hugs !! my god does this boy love to hug you. his driver room? hugs. middle of a flight? he will hug you. cooking? back hugs. he will do anything for a hug. he also loves to give you small, everyday things that remind him of you. he sees a flower shop with your favorites in the window, he’ll by them for you. soft toy of your favorite animal? he’ll get one, put a little bow on it and gift it to you. he would so give you a little ring with ‘81’ on the inside, if you played a sport/raced he would have a matching one with your number in it. and if you didn’t, he would put your initials. vv sweet baby.

b- best friend (what would they be like as a best friend? how would the friendship start?)

he would drag you to his house to watch every single race when you were kids. you’d be forced to sit next to each other in the seating plan and became fast friends, especially if you’re good at math, (why do you think i have so many friends?) he would miss a lot for racing so you’d take extra notes for him so he would buy you a little trinket at every race, and you’d put them all on a shelf. (your parents had to take you to IKEA and get new shelves, just for the trinkets.)

c- cuddles (do they like to cuddle? how would they cuddle?)

little spoon. even better if you’re taller than him. if you disagree, you can talk to the rock wall as i climb it. (i’m a rock climber btw, this isn’t meant to be a joke)

d- domestic (do they want to settle down? how are they at cooking and cleaning?)

he cooks and bakes a lot. (in Australia, you have a class (i had to take if for two years but that varies) on cooking, he would thrive there). he would do all the cooking because he loves it so much, so you would always clean up to share the work load. he would so want to by a little cozy house, maybe on a hobby farm, and adopt kids with you. you would take in sibling sets so they wouldn’t get separated in the system. i can see him doing that later in his career (after he wins a WDC maybe), and he would be a stay at home (working form home) dad for your little family (of like 10 kids across four adoptions and a surrogacy) while you worked full time.

e- ending (if they break up with their partner, how do they do it?)

he would let them down gently. he wouldn’t break up with someone for no reason, so if it was out of his control, he would by flowers and do it somewhere privet but with no real sentimental value to anyone. he’d cry doing it too. but like i said, unless they cheated of him, bby wouldn’t break up with anyone, ever. it probably meant he had a toxic high school relationship that one of his sisters had to get him out of because he didn’t want to make anyone upset :(

f- fiance(e) (how do they feel about commitment? how quick would they be to get married?)

if he won an aus gp he would so take you out to dinner at his favorite place (he looks like the kinda guy to take you grilld at any and every opportunity) and propose to you at a park with ice cream afterwards. i think he would have no problem settling down. it’d give him some peace of mind that he always had someone in his corner to go home to after a bad race or stressful day.

g- gentle (how gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

he would treat you like glass, even if you could kill him with your bare hands, he’d still be so so so gentle with you. he’d always ask you how you’re feeling, and would tilt his head while listen to you talk about your emotions. the king of communication. 100%.

h- hugs (do they like hugs? what are their hugs like?)

he loves hugs. i will not be elaborating. (especially if you lay on top of him, he loves it, it makes him feel so safe.)

i- i love you (how fast do they say the l-word?)

depends on how long he’s known you. if you met as kids, he’d probably say it to you before you got together (in a platonic way.) but otherwise he’d wait until you said it to him.

j- jealousy (how jealous do they get? what do they do when they’re jealous?)

he gets jelous so easlity, but he wouldn’t show it. if someone was flirting with you, he’d go all quite and moody as he holds your hand tighter or hugs your waist. he won’t outwardly do anything to anyone because he trusts you so much, he knows you would never do anything.

k- kisses (what are their kisses like? where do they like to kiss you? where do they like to be kissed?)

he loves to kiss you. he would kiss your cheek then blush and run away. if you had tattoos, he would so kiss them. if you kissed him, anywhere, he would melt into a pile of goo and mark would have to stop him spacing out every five minutes for the rest of the day.

l- little ones (how are they around children?)

he loves children. did you see him with the grid kids at the aus gp? he didn’t look like he stepped on lego for once. if you had to baby sit a small child (between 4yo and 10yo) he is so coming with you. he’d probably enjoy the toys/shows you give to the kid than the actual kid.

m- morning (how are mornings spent with them?)

if you had a whole day off, you would just never leave the bed. he’s be so cuddly and soft. if you try moving before 10 am he would complain that it’s too cold without you. then you’d make breakfast and eat on the balcony/porch together. until lando or logan comes over unannounced and insist that you all play a video game.

n- night (how are nights spent with them?)

so so so soft. he goes to bed a 7 pm on the dot every day. the golden light from the setting sun would be so cute. he’d look like a teddy bear. he’d also insist that he childhood toy would sleep with you guys.

o- open (when would they start revealing things about themselves? do they say everything at one or wait a white to reveal things slowly? )

he’d be so mysterious and would suddenly drop lore like he’s a dad or something. you wouldn’t know anything for months, then you suddenly know his favorite flower is a daisy and he once had to go the hospital because he ate a dandelion. then you have to wait months for any new information.

p- patience (how easily angered are they?)

he is a saint. unless your lando, logan or fredrik, then he is perpetually annoyed at you. if you had a disability (both visible or invisible) he’d be so so patient with you if you were slower to get somewhere/do something/understand him. and if you spoke a different language, he’d learn it in secret so you could talk. he’d probably be more comfortable talking in your native language than in english, he gives me the vibes of “i don’t like speaking English to people i’m close to, it doesn’t feel special enough for them.”

q- quizzes (how much would they remember about you? do they remember every detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

he would remember every little detail you ever tell him ever. your favorite pen brand you mentioned as you walked though officeworks or your Favorite teacher from when you were 5. he will remember everything. until you ask him, then he forgets his own name.

r- remember (what is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

when you brought him flowers for the first time when he was still in f3. you brought them for him when you went on your first in person date since covid started and he took them home and pressed them so he could put them in a frame and keep them forever. he’d set the photo of you two from that date as his wallpaper and would always show it to people like “look at my man :D”

s- security (how protective are they? how would they protect you?)

he would wrap himself around you entirely when he wants to protect you but he also cried when he almost killed a spider so i don’t think he’d be capable of anything else.

t- try (how much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts everyday tasks?)

he puts so much effort it making things special for you were ever he can but it’s all or nothing. it’s either pizza on the living room floor with a shitty film, or the most expensive wine he could find with a home cooked, three course meal on a balcony in Paris. he’d always make is special for you, but it depends on his mood and what he can do.

u- ugly (what would be some bad habits of theirs?)

he’d bite your fingers if you put them too close to his mouth. he’d get the overwhelming sense of love and would bite your fingers to keep your hands on him or at least close to him because he would cry otherwise. this wouldn’t be a problem for you if it weren't for the fact he has sharp teeth and a strong jaw.

v- vanity (how concerned are they with their looks?)

he does not care. he does not give two fucks about how he looks. until it’s a fancy date, then he cares. he’d learn how to do eyeliner so he’d look extra good for you. (him in eyeliner, i’d pay money to see that)

w- whole (would they feel incomplete without you?)

absolutely. he would cry every night he couldn’t be with you or call/talk to/see you. he would take your clothes so he could feel even just a little but closer to you.

x- xtra (a random headcanon for them)

he’d call you ducky. no reason for it. he just called you that one day and never stopped.

y- yuck (what are somethings they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

he wouldn’t want someone who would always one up him or treat him like a baby. he also wouldn’t want someone who always did all the cooking and cleaning while he just did nothing. he’d probably cry if the work load wasn’t split evenly.

z- zzz (what is a sleep habit of theirs)

he’d take all the blankets. even in an aussie summer, he insists on sleeping with three blankets and you’ll always wake up at 3am with no blankets and again at 6am with him (and all the blankets) on top of you.

[sigmasemen]

TEXTING.

sae itoshi x reader

tags: fluff, awkwardness in relationships, established relationships,

taglist: n/a currently.

characters: sae itoshi, reader.

word count: 970

extra notes: repost from my thread fic on here, again not gonna be all fancy sadly. will be writing some on here from now on.

sae itoshi was what people called an enigma. even after being with him for a little under half a year, you didn’t get certain mannerisms. why did he push his bangs back like that? what happened between him and his brother? why did his eyes show so much more expression than the rest of his face?

all of that seemed too distant to be solved. you just hoped he’d tell you one day. but in the meantime? you had to find small ways to help him with things he struggled with. namely, physical and verbal affection.

he was a bit better with physical affection. maybe it was because every small touch ignited feelings you didn’t know people could have. but you still had to think of a way to make him feel more comfortable.

that was why you had suggested this seemingly silly concept of texting while in bed. it was a way to communicate then build up to more. he didn’t realize you were serious until you directly told him you were.

why he cocked a brow before agreeing, you didn’t know. it still landed you on distant sides of his luxurious bed. he hadn’t typed a word, but he had been on your chat the entire time. 

making the first move, you typed first.

— etc. is typing…

‘you remind me of a red panda.’

there wasn’t any noise in response, just shifting.

— saeitoshi. is typing…

‘What?’

you giggled.

— etc. is typing…

‘you remind me of a red panda. one of those big ones that look like they’re always mad.’

— saeitoshi. is typing…

‘Thank you?’

‘That doesn’t make any sense though.’

— etc. is typing…

‘does it need to?’

— saeitoshi. is typing… 

‘I guess not.’

there was a second of a pause while he typed another message out.

‘You remind me of a starfish.’

— etc. is typing…

‘that seems mean??’

‘are you calling me lazy??’

— saeitoshi. is typing…

‘You can be’

‘Not why I said it though’

‘Seagulls are known for carrying around starfish. I carry you around a lot from place to place.’

you were about to type another message before he had to toss one little thing in.

‘Then you laze around in that place.’

— etc. is typing…

‘that was gonna be sweet :C’

‘can’t even be too nice for a second?’

— saeitoshi. is typing…

‘I was.’

— etc. is typing…

‘k then, would you still love me if I was a starfish??’

— saeitoshi. is typing…

‘??’

you could hear a scoff come from over your shoulder.

‘Did you suddenly turn into one or were you born a starfish??’

‘I wouldn’t be attracted to something born a starfish. I would take care of you if you were turned into one’

— etc. is typing…

‘so we aren’t star crossed soulmates?’

— saeitoshi. is typing…

‘I don’t get your whole deal with soulmates.’

— etc. is typing…

‘seriously??????’

‘soulmates are such a fun concept, you don’t want to be destined to be with someone for life??????’

— saeitoshi. is typing…

a pause.

— saeitoshi. is typing…

‘Maybe, it doesn’t seem realistic though’

— etc. is typing.

‘you don’t understand true love…’

‘i’ll pretend you undoubtedly believe in soulmates.’

shockingly, you heard a shift in the bed. as you turned your head around, sae had rolled over to face you. there wasn’t even a second of hesitation as you did the same thing.

then you had to think of another conversation prompt.

— etc. is typing…

‘your fave song doesn’t fit you like i thought it would’

you glanced up to see sae’s eyebrow raised.

— saeitoshi. is typing…

‘It doesn’t need to.’

‘It helps me focus while I’m working out, isn’t that enough to make it a favorite song?’

you let out a gentle hum. you could start to inch towards more pretty easily. all you needed to do was dip your toes into the water.

— etc. is typing.

‘then play it?’

‘C:’

there was pure silence. you didn’t look at your phone, instead at the soft expression of sae. he only shifted a bit before the virtual clicking came from his phone. his nail pressed against the screen before the music started.

it was enjoyable at first. you felt yourself ease in his presence. his eyes drifted to your’s.

“it still isn’t that good.”

sae hummed, “i think it’s good. you’re ust being picky.”

“like you aren’t the pickiest of them all?”

neither of you were actually intending this. it wasn’t a conscious movement, instead a natural one you weren’t even thinking about. yet as your body inched closer and closer, you started to forget about what you were saying. they were words without meaning. actions had ripped that right away from them.

your leg flopped on top of sae’s, and his arm rested on your waist. at some point, your head had started to press against sae’s chest. even though you both had to adjust to look at the other, it seemed like neither of you had noticed the position.

and once you noticed, you had absolutely no intention of showing it. “hey sae?”

“yeah?”

“your heart is beating really fast, did you know that?”

“oh,” a pause, “i’m sure your heart is beating just as fast.” 

it was a rare notion of romantic confidence from him that you couldn’t help but smile at.

“it is.”

“… let me listen to your heartbeat before you go to sleep. i can even use your wrist to listen.”

“huh?”

as sae set his phone down, he grabbed your wrist and pulled it to his ear. the soft thumping of your heart sped up. only a very gentle scoff escaped him as a reaction to it. you hoped that meant he hadn’t noticed.

“sleep… sleep well sae.”

with a gentle kiss to the wrist, he spoke, “you too.” he really could’ve be a killer romantic if he wasn’t so awkward…

[virtual-luvr]

Read Dead of Night

Pairing: Diluc x Reader

Pronouns: none, but mentions of the word husband

Content: overworked diluc, mentions of stress and implied trauma.

Description: It was only fair that you treat Diluc just as well as he treated you.

Notes: PLS TAKE THIS AS AN APOLOGY FOR THE AMOUNT OF TOME IVE HAD TO TAKE AS BREAK AND ALSO MOT HAVJNG THE TIME TO WRITE. I can’t promise I’ll be able to write all the time especially BCS I’m graduating soon but I’ll do what I can <3

In honor of a request I got and also me getting his new skin!! Other requests will be worked on as soon as possible.

———————————

Rays of sunshine hit just right through the window as you sit next to the fireplace at the Dawn Winery. Soft humming sounds from behind you as the maids do their work and move around the Winery.

The book in your hand is placed to the side as you hear the door creak open. Dilucs heavy shoes thud on the floor as he enters and he makes his presence known through the heavy sigh he blows out.

He’s wearing his new outfit, but by the looks of it, he had a rough day. The extra cloth on him was torn to the side and his boots were heavy with mud. Nothing unfixable, but it seemed to take a toll on him.

His face was scrunched up as he tightened his high ponytail and took off his boots, making sure to find a place that wouldn’t get so dirtied with mud.

“Diluc, honey, are you okay?” You ask, reaching a hand to his shoulder.

He tenses before placing a hand over yours and smiles at you.

“Im okay, but I’m due a break now. Today was… not the best.”

The maids shuffle out as they see the heavy drowsiness laced in his voice, knowing it was time for their shift to end and go along to do something else.

You help him out of his heavy attire and claymore before looking for a fresh set of clothes and placing it in his hands.

“You don’t have to care for me like this, I’ll be fine my dear.”

“I am your husband, it is only normal that I take care of you just as you take care of me.”

You place a hand on his cheek and he leans into your touch, “what did I do to deserve you?”

He breathes out a heavy sigh as he looks at you with the most adoration possible.

“It’s not what you did, but who you are, Diluc.”

He holds onto you tightly, afraid that if he let go something would happen.

He looks at you for a second before leaning in and placing a gentle kiss to your lips. He always did his best to take care of you with the upmost sweetness. It meant the world to him that you would do it back.

He felt undeserving of it, but you showed him that he was worth of love and care.

You let out a hum as he deepened the kiss, “nah uh, you need to take a shower, you’re all sweaty!”

Diluc chuckles at the face you make as you swat him away, ushering him into the bathroom. You swiftly close the door and he goes in to take a quick shower. Making sure not to spend too much time in there, even though the water was as just the right temperature. He felt like he could stay in there forever.

This was the time of day where he felt most comfortable, to be able to be himself. Without having to think of his duties as anything but a husband. No work, no monsters, no conflict.

Soon enough his shower was down and he dries off his hair, putting on comfortable wear and making sure to fold his other outfit snug. He makes a mental note to check what needs to be sewed back up or tailored as he folds it.

“How are you feeling now?”

The question caught him off guard as it cuts him off of his thoughts, “a lot better, thank you, my love.”

You grab his hand as you escort him towards the fire place, placing a ready meal and a drink right beside him. He immediately starts digging in, seems as if he hadn’t eaten too much today.

“Did you eat today?”

“Only a bit, I had a lot to do around the tavern and customers were coming in and ou-“

You grab another small portion from your plate and place it on his, he looks down and then back up at you.

“There’s no need to do that, you should eat well too-“

You grab your book and place it on your lap, “I’ve already eaten enough today. If you haven’t, then it’s my duty to prevent that from happening, especially if you’re right in front of me. Dig in, I can read to you while you eat?”

You offer the idea to him and he nods hesitantly, he’s always loved hearing your voice, especially on days like these where he can’t seem to catch a break.

He smiles and continues to eat as he watches you drink from your cup and continue on the spot you had previously bookmarked.

Soon enough he was done with his food and drink, eventually he just anchored his head on his hand and watched you as you read. A small smile was set on his face, a rare sight that only a few could afford to see.

His eyes opened and closed as he tried his best to stay awake, but it looks as if it wasn’t working.

Once the chapter was done you took your time and set the dishes elsewhere, grabbing his hand and bringing him back to your guy’s bedroom.

You drag him towards the bed and he immediately lays down, letting out a sigh at the heavenly feel of the pillows and sheets on his skin.

He gets comfortable easy but is almost fully awake as soon as he notices that you aren’t in bed with him, “where are you going?”

He asks and you can almost hear the desperation in his voice, it looks like it really was an incredibly heavy day for him. It doesn’t happen often, but sometimes he can’t stand to be alone with his own thoughts.

“I was planning on going back to reading my book” you answer truthfully.

“Could you, uh— could you stay with me.”

His arms open as he sees you near towards him. His warmth engulfs you as he hugs you. His hair, no longer in a ponytail, tickles your face and it makes you let out an airy laugh.

“What’s so funny?”

“Your hair… is in my face” you try to say as you stay tightened up to his chest.

You can hear and feel as he rumbles out a laugh, he doesn’t respond, but instead snuggles up to you even more. Essentially making his hair tickle you even more and all you can do is just whine and hug him back. Making sure to let him know that it wasn’t actually annoying you or anything”

“I love you.” You mumble out

“I love you… too.” You hear him say as you both drift off into sleep.

[Aug/5/22; 1231 words]

[elysianslove]

the little things ; haikyuu boys

synopsis; the little things he does that show just how much he loves you

pairings; karasuno x reader, aoba johsai x reader, fukurodani x reader, nekoma x reader, shiratorizawa x reader

genre; fluff

warnings; will make u hate being single <3

karasuno ━━

sugawara koshi; whenever your hair gets caught in anything, he’s so gentle yet quick at fixing it. if your hair is long, and you pull a bag or a shirt and your hair gets tucked in, he’ll wordlessly pull it out. if your hair is short and a bracelet or zipper gets caught he just continues whatever he was doing (talking to someone else for e.g.) while helping you out. also always makes sure your hair isn’t bothering you; if you’re leaning over writing something, he’ll always tuck it behind your ear so lovingly ahhh

daichi sawamura; massages. he’s descended from heaven for this purpose only. his hands are rough and like hard on your muscles, but it’s so perfect. he’ll approach you when you’re in school sitting anywhere, from behind, and just knead his hands into your muscles for a few seconds. euphoric. or if you live together, he always greets you with back/shoulder/neck massages in the bathtub hvjkwkd.

nishinoya yuu; always makes you try his food. always. whether it’s with a group of people or just you two, he just goes “hey babe open ur mouth” with this face 😏 bc he’s cheeky, and just shoves a mouthful of food. spoiler alert, it’s always way too hot. but it’s just tradition at this point. he takes a bite of his food, decides if it’s worthy enough for your mouth or not, then just. yeah.

kageyama tobio; buys you a snack whenever he gets his milk. if you’re special special, he’ll buy you your own carton of milk. he goes up to the vending machine and automatically thinks of you when he sees your fave snack, and it’s like mindless at this point he just routinely does it. it still surprises you to this day, even when he’s so nonchalant about it.

tsukishima kei; kisses your forehead. tsukki is not too big on pda, and even privately he’s not very touchy feely either tbh. but just a simple peck on your forehead grounds you, and it’s a small reminder of the fact that despite his outward coldness, he really does love you. he rarely does it in front of others, but sometimes, he’ll indulge both you and him, and settle a small kiss on your temple just randomly.

asahi azumane; anime jesus always has a hair tie/clip carried around for you on his wrist/in his pockets. i mean he’s always needing them, he just stocks up when he starts dating you. somehow he’s always there when you’re frustrated with your hair all over the place what a savior. later on it evolves to him carrying around your scrunchie and yes the boys make fun yes he blushes but no he does not take it off.

tanaka ryunosuke; carries you on his back, or your things, when you’re too tired to walk. whether that be if you’re too tired because of your heels or you’re just lazy, he just loves helping you out what a respectful gentleman. honestly it just becomes that every time he sees you he like barricades over to you so quick and flips you onto his shoulder or spins you around. anyways. walking with tanaka means walking empty handed bc he will never let you carry anything. ( shifts pile of bags on one arm just to hold your hand ).

hinata shoyo; learns hairstyles to try on you. whether it be short hair or long hair, expect his youtube search history to look a lot like “how to make a french braid” or “cute hairstyles for short hair for your cute girlfriend”. he’s always so entranced by you and watches so carefully whenever you do anything on your hair, and he gets do excited whenever you let him try and he gets it right. also !!! a lot of the times you’ll sit between his legs and he’ll just softly card his fingers through your hair or lightly braid it.

yamaguchi tadashi; buys you flowers a lot. he doesn’t overdo it, just so it doesn’t lose its value and worth. but for example, mondays suck ass and he knows how much you hate them, so he always makes sure to either leave a single rose on your desk/in your locker or give it to you himself if he can. it’s so endearing and motivating honestly, and the constant reminder every once in a while is so cute. continues to do it even like 3 years in, which is so fkn sweet honestly.

nekoma ━━

kuroo tetsurō; plans the best dates. seriously. like not one moment spent with him is dull. i don’t think being with kuroo entails a high energy relationship, i just mean that even a walk in the park is fun with him. he also always knows when to plan a fancy dinner and when it’s just something casual. like he always puts in so much effort, gives 120%, for every date with you. is your favorite band/singer/artist in town? he’s got tickets. the weather is amazing? you’re going to the beach. you’re sleep deprived? nap dates. 10/10

kozume kenma; he teaches you how to play his games. the fact that he’s letting you touch the console in itself says enough, but whenever he buys a new one, and learns it thoroughly enough, he will always sit by you and teach you its ways. picture you sitting in his lap while he guides your hands <333 if you’re not a gamer, he’s actually v flattered by the fact you’re willing to sit through this w him. but if you are a gamer, expect daily competitions. oh and if you beat him? you’re dead to him :).

haiba lev; instead of reaching for things that you’re too short for to grab it himself, he just lifts you up lmfao. i mean w the way he teases yaku, i can imagine he’d be v teasing with you as well if you’re even an inch shorter than him. but fret not! it’s all in the name of love. he’s very loving though, and if he sees you struggling he’ll just wordlessly hoist you up from your waist or something. at first it’s terrifying, but later on it just makes you giggle cause he’s like so willing to do it and it’s effortless for him hehe.

yaku morisuke; always makes sure you’re taking care of yourself, but kinda aggressively? lmao anyways. like he’s always “babe have u eaten” and if u say no expect him to start yelling like “what do you mean no??? are you insane???” v dramatic but honestly <333 he’s always texting you after parting ways “did you get home safe” or on weekends where he cant meet you, he’s asking how it was, if you indulged yourself a bit, relaxed. it’s very sweet and he makes sure it’s not overbearing. he just wants his baby to be healthy and happy.

yamamoto taketora; walks on the side with the cars. it’s not a very noticeable thing, but you see it, and you recognize it. he makes sure he’s always walking where cars are speeding by, a hand on the small of your back guiding you away and to the other side of him. it’s the little notions of protectiveness like if he’s driving and stops suddenly, he’ll put a hand out to keep you from lurching forward, he pushes you gently out of the way before you bump into someone. things like that.

aoba johsai ━━

oikawa tōru; he doodles in your notebooks, or on your skin. if you have class with him, and sit next to him, he’ll always be doodling on your notebook like little hearts or stupid, cute things like your initials + his in a heart. or if you’re at a study date together, and you’re focused on your laptop screen, he’ll leave little encouraging messages on your notes for you to notice when you’re revising. sometimes you’ll be sitting with him at lunch or even if you’re out w him and a bunch of other people, and he happens to have a pen. expect a little smiley face on your inner wrist, or a heart plus his initials ( o.t. )

iwaizumi hajime; he helps you take off your make up/takes it off for you. if you’re too sleepy, he’ll just take the products he’s used to seeing you use and start following it step by step after he props you up next to the sink. while he stands between your thighs he just so gently starts rubbing at your skin and washing away the make up. if you’re already asleep, he’ll have to like google the steps oh my god im gonna cry hes so cute. if you don’t necessarily wear make up, then he’ll just help you do your nightly routine, or even your shower routine, like using a body scrub or a face mask or, bruh, even shaving lmfao.

hanamaki takahiro; saves everything you buy/send/make him. i mean everything. has literally over two thousand photos of you, all the polaroids or postcards are saved in a little box he has under his bed. anything you make him (unless it’s edible) he has. if you make him a small embroidery thing he will literally attach it to his sports bag or something. any chain you make him is automatically added to his keychain. that flower crown you made with him on one of your first dates? he still has it. the flowers are dead but the memory loves babyyyy

matsukawa issei; carries extra clothes of his for you to borrow. hey have i mentioned that mattsun is big? 😃 because he is 😃. meaning regardless of your size or height or whatever, his clothes will drown you <3 i see him as preferring more oversized or just loose shirts rather than tight ones, so yk. on you???? if y’all are just hanging out and you even think about being slightly cold — here have five options of mattsun’s clothes to choose from. he always makes sure they smell like him too. it’s self indulgent really, because he loves the way they look on you, and he loves that it leaves a trace of his scent on you. territorial? i think yes.

fukurodani ━━

bokuto kōtarō; always hugs you like it’s the last time he’ll see you. sometimes, even if he doesn’t know it, you need his hugs badly. y’all are gonna try and tell me bokuto doesn’t give the best fkn hugs??? yeah get outta here with that bs. he SO does. he either kneels down and wraps his arms around your waist, picks you up, and spins you around, like he hasn’t seen you in 3 years, or he’ll just wrap his arms around your neck and pull your head to his chest, cradling it, and just sighing like he won’t see you for the next 3 years. his hugs always make you feel so much better, even if you weren’t feeling down to begin with.  

akaashi keiji; plays with your hands and caresses them. it’s the delicate feel and gentleness of it all. akaashi’s generally an anxious person, leaving him very fidgety. but once you two get together, and he starts being comfortable with you, expect to find your hand always between the two of his, just fondling with him. he’ll trace random figurines on the back of your hand, or have his fingers ghost over your wrist and up to your fingertips. if his hands are especially shaky, expect him to just grab one of your yours and hold it tightly between the grasp of two of his. it conveys trust, and all you have to do is kiss his knuckles gently and he’s melting.

konoha akinori; he has your reminders app linked with his, and sneaks in small, motivating messages. every once in a while you’ll get a notification from the app that tells you to drink water or have a snack (or text konoha he’s bored and he misses you). also always sends you pictures to distract you from stress. like it could literally just be a picture of him smiling with a thumbs up and you’d just ,,, melt bc you love him so much.

shiratorizawa ━━

ushijima wakatoshi; he has so many plants that are named after you, or your nicknames, and he’s like so gentle with them too. like strokes their petals and speaks to them so softly, the same way he does with you. you’re honestly so curious how he hasn’t run out of names, but he’s just a genius like that. whenever you go over to his place, and he’s bought a new one, he’ll take your hand and guide you to where it’s growing and just be like “look it’s baby y/n” and you just 🥺🥺🥺

semi eita; he has a playlist on his phone, that’s constantly being updated, for you and him to listen to. the first time he showed it to you, you were stargazing and he took out his phone and headphones and was like “i made a playlist for you wanna list” and every part of your body lit up in flames im not joking. now, a lot of the times, you’re coming back home on a train, and your head is on his shoulder and you’re sharing headphones listening to the playlist. when either one of you is driving you’re blasting it (a lot of the playlist is the hsm soundtrack)

satori tendō; tendo reads people so well, and being in a relationship with him means he will read you so well. so a lot of the times, in social situations, he’ll recognize the signs of you wanting to leave, for example, or if someone’s bothering you, he’ll know exactly how to approach it too. this also entails having a lotta inside jokes hehe, and also just like. talking with your eyes. yk that thing. yeah. all you have to do is look at him a certain way, and he just knows exactly what you just said.

goshiki tsutomu; he buys the both of you this small plushie, and whenever you’re missing each other you just. squish it. and he squishes his. he would rather die than let anyone know this, but you’re not too keen on letting anyone know yourself tbh. it’s just this little thing you have, and it means a lot more to you than just this. when he first bought it he was like “look we have matching plushies” and you passed away on the spot ❤️

shirabu kenjirō; loves trying out new recipes with you. he’s not too big on cooking or baking, but there’s just something about doing it with you that really — hits the spot yk. nowadays, whenever he comes across a new recipe on social media that he thinks you’ll like he just automatically sends it to you like with no words no texts just the post and you’re like “OMG CAN WE DO THIS” and he’s like “why else would i send it. yes we can :)” hvskwkeke

end note;  thank you sm for the love on my last two posts!! i’m glad you guys enjoyed them sm. if you have any requests, they’re open and i’m happy to deliver, mwah!

[myherowritings]

PART 7. WHAT’S BETTER THAN EATING THE RICH? THE RICH EATING YOU OUT

SUMMARY. Todoroki Shouto was a wealthy, young CEO who inherited his father’s enterprise. You were a barista at a local cafe who wouldn’t mind some extra cash. One day, Shouto came in during an early morning shift and tipped you such a large sum of money, you were certain it had to have been an accident. To your surprise and complete pleasure: It was not.

PAIRING. ceo!todoroki shouto x barista!reader

WORD COUNT. 4.7k

GENRE. ceo/barista au, fluff, eventual smut

WARNINGS. the filthiest thing i’ve ever written, fem!reader for this part and shouto uses “princess” an excessive amount of times, sir kink i’m sorry, cunnilingus, unprotected sex (just bc i totally forgot abt condoms ok my bad), too much foreplay?, shouto’s a soft dom i think?, very much so 18+!!! and the title is exactly what it sounds like

A/N. here we are !! the final part !! my first shouto series i didn’t put on hiatus LMAO,, the moment you’ve all been waiting for HFSJKG ;) this was very fun to write i hope it’s not too bad BHFBDSHS i’m so in love with ceo!shouto and this series was my fav to write in a while!! now without further ado pls enjoy some smut with feelings :3 xx sof

SERIES MASTERLIST

© myherowritings — all rights reserved. reposting, modifying, copying, or translating of any kind is not allowed. do not read my writing as asmr. do not plagiarize.

You almost didn’t make it into the elevator to Shouto’s penthouse before you wanted to pounce on him, but to your complete frustration, he was showing such restraint that the only contact he let you make was holding his hand. 

For someone who was so eager to kiss you earlier, he was showing a lot of patience now, you thought with a huff. 

You tapped your foot against the tile flooring as Shouto took his sweet time unlocking his suite. Even when he entered, instead of taking you straight to the bedroom like you anticipated, he pulled out two glasses and filled them with water. 

Handing you one, he asked, “Did you want something to eat?” 

“No. ‘M not hungry right now,” you mumbled, trying not to appear too pouty. 

Apparently, it didn’t work very well since he stifled an amused chuckle. “How about some water?” 

Your eyes narrowed but you begrudgingly accepted the glass. “Hmph.” 

“Someone seems a little tired right now, hmm?” he placed his glass down and led you towards his bedroom. “Maybe we should go straight to sleep—”

You couldn’t help yourself any longer. “Shouto,” you whined, drawing out the ‘o’ sounds, your lower lip jutting outwards in a frown.

“Yes, Y/N?” His tone was too innocent for the events he had in mind for the night. 

“If you don’t take me to bed and fuck me right now, I’ll…”

“You’ll…?” Shouto teased, but the darkened gaze in his eyes told you his own restraint was wearing thin. 

You turned away with a huff. “I’ll be upset!” 

“Well, we don’t want that.” He laced his fingers through yours, bringing your hands up to his lips to give them a kiss. You were slightly placated, but that was still nowhere near the amount of contact you desired. “But I think you’d find it more comfortable if we continue this with your dress off first. Come.” 

Your stomach clenched at the simple command and you willfully followed behind him into the second door to the right. You hardly had time to admire the design of his room and size of his bed before Shouto moved from his spot next to you to one behind you. He placed one hand on where your waist met your hip and the other on the small of your back, making your spine straighten at the touch. 

“Did you need help taking your dress off?” he asked, knowing full well what the answer would be. 

“Yes, please, sir,” was your airy reply. 

His breath caught in his throat and his grip on you tightened. When he spoke, his voice was hoarser than normal. “Since you asked so nicely.”

So, he liked when you called him sir? You made a mental note of that with a smirk. 

But your cocky expression didn’t last very long when Shouto skillfully unfastened the top few buttons of your dress, softly placing his lips on your now exposed skin and gently planting kisses all the way down your back. He didn’t stop until he reached the curve of your ass, unbuttoning the final button and nipping a kiss right at the base of your spine. You jolted, hugging the fabric of the dress to your chest so you wouldn’t be completely exposed. 

“Finished unbuttoning your dress for you, princess,” he said, placing one final kiss on your spine before gently twirling you around to face him. At your flustered gaze, he smiled. “Now what would you like for me to do to you?” 

You lifted your chin despite your slight embarrassment at having to voice your desires. “I want you to kiss me.”

“Hm. Have I not been kissing you this whole time?” 

“On the lips,” you emphasized, tugging at his tie as you tried to pull him closer to you. You batted your lashes at him. “Could you please kiss me on the lips, sir?” 

A small chuckle escaped him, but he was happy to oblige. “You know, you’d be good in business. You certainly know what to say to get what you want, hmm?”

You answered with a smile as he finally—fucking finally, after a whole week of waiting—pressed his lips against yours. They were soft and warm and tasted like strawberries and ice cream, his favorite flavor of the candies the two of you stole from the gala. 

Delicious. 

Shouto must’ve thought the same thing since, not long after the start of the kiss, he coaxed your mouth open with his tongue, deepening the movements, one hand softly cupping the area where your head met your neck while the other was hot against your exposed lower back. He applied the slightest bit of pressure at the right time—just enough to make you sigh in pleasure. 

Your own hands found a way to tangle themselves in Shouto’s hair, completely abandoning their job clutching your dress to your body. Now, you were so tightly pressed up against him, the only thing that could possibly keep the fabric up was his chest against your own. One sudden movement and it might just…  

He nipped at your lower lip with his teeth and you jumped, gasping at how good the light stinging sensation felt. You felt your dress slip down your body to expose the swell of your breasts, but before it could fall any further, Shouto gingerly picked you up and laid you down on his bed. 

“Oh—” you managed to say as your head landed on a pillow and your back on the plush, silk sheets that covered the mattress.

His left arm rested on the pillow beside your head as he hovered over you. “Have something to say, princess?”

“Y-You may continue,” you sniffed, lifting your chin up. Your heart skipped a beat at the teasing pet name and then another beat when Shouto leaned down to give you a kiss. But instead of landing on your mouth again, he chose to leave an open-mouthed kiss on the sensitive part of your neck, gently biting and sucking at the skin. 

His feathery light touches tickled you, your nerves working on overdrive and every stroke feeling like it was amplified. You couldn’t help but giggle at his soft nibble and he paused to look at you questioningly. 

“Tickles,” you replied, laughing at his confused expression. “But it feels nice.”

Shouto hummed, the vibrations buzzing against your neck. “That’s good to hear.”

Returning to your lips, he kissed you with a smile creeping on his face and you returned it. His forehead rested against yours as you toyed with the fabric on the front of his suit. You unknotted his tie as your lips clashed against each other, the motion no longer soft and gentle but instead more fervent and intense. 

Finally getting his tie to come undone, you flung it off the bed and worked to unbutton his shirt collar, not caring if it got wrinkled in the process. Shouto reciprocated the eagerness by sucking the tip of your tongue with his mouth before pulling away from you completely. 

A whimper left your lips at the sudden loss of warmth and you couldn’t help but pout, grabbing at his shirt again to pull him back.

“Be a good girl and be patient, okay?” he said, running the tip of his index finger against your jawline. 

You huffed. “I’ve been plenty patient. I want you to do something now!” 

In other times, you’d probably be embarrassed about how whiny you sounded, but at this moment all you wanted was for Shouto to finally touch you more. 

He nipped at your collarbone before looking down at you. “Hm. Are you a princess or a brat?”

“I can be both. I’m very multifaceted,” you said haughtily, sticking your tongue out to let him know you were only joking. 

“You are,” he agreed. 

It seemed Shouto decided to finally listen to your pleas since his attention swiftly returned to that of your neck, dragging his lips down until he reached the swell of your breast. Over the fabric of your dress that was barely clinging onto you, he placed wet, open-mouthed kisses over your chest, his teeth accidentally grazing against your nipple. 

You cried out quietly and he felt encouraged by the sound, this time taking your peak into his mouth with purpose. He formed his mouth into the shape of an ‘o’ and softly sucked your nipple, the tip of his tongue making circles around the bud. His saliva wet the fabric of your dress, leaving you to shiver at the cold against your wet breast when he pulled away from you. 

“S-Shouto,” you whimpered, squeezing your legs together to relieve some of the tension. “More.”

“More? What exactly do you mean by that?” 

“I want you to…” You gestured towards your body. 

“To what? Take your dress off and fuck you? Or just continue playing with your breasts?” he asked, listing off suggestions in a low rasp. He kissed below your chest and down your stomach all the way to your navel. “Or maybe you want me to go lower until I reach that pretty pussy of yours.”

You nodded fervidly, not trusting your voice. “A-All of the above?”

He chuckled in amusement but was ready to dutifully continue his work.

“But…” you murmured, running your hands down his half-unbuttoned shirt. “I want to see you too.” You looked down at his crotch area then back at his face, biting your lip nervously. “And I want to make sure you’re also having a good time.” 

A guttural noise sounded from the back of his throat as he ran his hands down your body, giving you an appreciative look. “I’m having the best time.” He kissed you chastely. “Are you?”

You looked like a mess sprawled out on his bed, dress half hanging onto your chest and the fabric of the skirt only covering one of your legs. You didn’t know for sure the state of your hair and makeup, but you were sure it was thoroughly roughed up as well. “I think it’s quite obvious I am, sir.” 

Shouto smirked, caressing your cheek with his knuckles. “Good.” 

Instead of answering him, you brought your fingers to the lower-half of his shirt, unfastening the final buttons and untucking it from his suit pants. His shirt hung open, exposing his lean yet muscular torso. You ran your hands up and down his chest and abdomen, absentmindedly brushing against his nipples which caused him to shiver. When you reached his collar, you threw the fabric behind his shoulders and he got the message to take his shirt off. 

“So pretty,” you whispered breathlessly.

“Your turn.” Slowly, Shouto slid down the silky fabric that was just barely covering your breasts all the way to your navel. He tapped your thigh and said, “Up,” and you immediately obliged, lifting your lower body up so he could remove the dress completely. 

Taking his sweet time—much to your frustration—he folded the dress and placed it on a dresser near his bed. When he turned his gaze back to you, you were holding your arms over your chest, feeling bare in nothing but your panties with sheer detailings. 

His stare burned holes into you. You felt like his gaze was leaving a trail of fire against your skin. Shouto’s expression looked sensual but soft as he admired you, giving you enough confidence to lay your arms down by your sides instead of over your chest. He zeroed in on your breasts as he gave them a kiss. 

“Beautiful,” he whispered and your cheeks burst into flames. Your whole body felt hot as you folded one leg over the other so he couldn’t see the arousal gathering at your thin undergarments.

Noticing the movement, he raised a brow at you and uncrossed your legs with his large but slender hand, his grip firm on your thigh to prevent you from covering yourself like that again. Shouto pressed one of your thighs into the bed with his palm, and your other thigh with the gentle weight of his knee, holding your legs open for him. 

The cool air from his room hit your wetness seeping through your underwear and you felt yourself clench around nothing. 

You shifted under his weight, desperate for some release. “Shouto, please.”

It seemed he no longer had the restraint to tease you further since he nodded, moving lower down the bed so his face was hovering above your clothed pussy. “May I?” 

“Fuck— Yes,” you moaned, core heating up in anticipation. 

Shouto landed his lips on your fabric-covered cunt, licking a stripe across your slit. Your growing arousal mixed with his spit through your panties, a lewd noise sounding when he pried the fabric away from your pussy. He slid them off your legs, holding it up to examine the arousal slick on the garments. As if he had no shame, he politely folded it and placed it on top of your dress with a smile. 

“T-That’s not what a gentleman would do,” you managed as he returned to his position in bed in front of your now-bare cunt. 

“And what is it that a gentleman would do, princess?” he whispered dangerously close to your most intimate parts. “This?”

Without warning, he tenderly kissed the bud between your legs. You moaned, legs attempting to kick out in surprise and pleasure, but they remained immobile since Shouto held them down in place. 

“Or perhaps this?” Shouto ran his tongue down your folds and back up to your clit, rubbing small and steady figure eights against the sensitive nub. 

“Yes!” you cried out, canting your hips towards his mouth in pleasure. “Oh, god— Yes to all of it. Please… Don’t stop.” 

“I won’t.” He hummed as he continued his ministrations on your pussy, the vibrations shooting right up your core and causing more wetness to seep out onto his face, but he didn’t let that bother him. In fact, it only seemed to encourage him further. 

Not removing his mouth from your clit for even a second, Shouto hooked one of your legs over his shoulder while leaving the other flat against the silky sheets of his mattress. He dragged his opened mouth down to your dripping pussy lips and entered into your slit with his tongue. The new position sent ever more waves of euphoria through you and Shouto licked and sucked at your folds. 

You lifted your hips higher and he nuzzled his head deeper, his tongue reaching places you had only ever imagined. The lewd noises of Shouto’s mouth smacking against your slick cunt filled the quiet room. As you moaned, your hands threaded themselves into the base of his hair, lightly tugging him even closer than either of you thought possible. 

With his hand that wasn’t holding your thigh down, Shouto found his way to your chest, reaching up to palm at your breast all while still sucking your pussy. He flicked your nipple and gently rubbed it with his thumb and forefinger. Your breathing hitched at the mix of sensations, your core tightening and heating up as Shouto continued to eat you out. “Fuck— Oh— Shouto!” you cried, unable to hold back the volume of your voice. 

As if he knew what was coming, he removed his hand from your breast and briefly paused, though his face was still resting against your thigh and pussy. “Not yet, princess. Do you think you can hold on for me?” 

You whimpered at the thought of postponing your release, but you trusted that he would make up for the wait. “Okay, sir. For you.”

“That’s my good girl.”

Shouto continued his attack on your cunt with his lips, this time bringing his hand down to rub lazy circles around your clit. His tongue was deep in you, his nose teasingly bumping against your sensitive bud as his fingers flicked against it harsher. Rougher. He nuzzled his head from side to side to hit places far within you as you whimpered and moaned. 

The stimulation of both his fingers and his mouth on your pussy was almost too much to handle as your thighs quivered and your cunt clenched uncontrollably. 

“S-Shouto, please I—” Your voice broke off as a moan of pleasure ripped through you. 

“You can come now, princess,” he murmured into your folds, the vibrations only pleasuring you even further. 

And so you did. 

You felt yourself orgasm as Shouto continued to suck at your cunt and brush against your clit, moving slower and more gently as you came down from your high. 

When he finally looked up from your pussy, the lower half of his face glistened with your fluids, sending you into another state of desire. There was something about the way he looked at you that made you want more of him. 

Shouto smiled as he wiped the fluids of your arousal and ecstacy on his chin with his index finger. Instead of taking it into his mouth, however, he held it in front of your lips. “Look at the mess you made for me, princess. See how good you taste.” 

After only a moment’s hesitation, you brought his finger that was coated in your arousal into your mouth, swirling your tongue around and sucking him, giving him an idea of what you would do if that were his cock. You released his finger with a soft ‘pop’ and smiled innocently at him. 

“Are you going to fuck me now or should I suck you off first, sir?” you asked, tone of voice all too pleasant. 

His bulge strained against the snug fit of his pants and you wanted nothing more than to relieve some of his pressure. “You’ll have plenty of opportunities to take my cock into your mouth, but right now I just want to feel you around me. Is that okay?” 

“That’s fine with me!” You nodded eagerly, the thought of being filled up with Shouto now taking over your mind completely. 

He chuckled at your excitement, though he was feeling the same thing himself. Swiftly, he removed his belt and took off his suit pants. You helped by tugging his black boxer briefs down and watching gently stroking his erect shaft in awe. 

Was every part of Shouto pretty? He was just a gift that kept on giving. 

Your mouth almost watered in anticipation, biting your lip as he lowered you back against the mattress, your head falling onto the plush pillows. He positioned his member against your slit that was still dripping wet from his spit and your first orgasm. 

Shouto rubbed his tip against your already sensitive clit and your slightly parted folds, not yet entering deep enough to satisfy you. He moved his cock back and forth against your pussy as you both watched, the fluids of your arousal and his mixing for further lubrication. Your eyes were fixated on the sight, the thick head of his member disappearing into your sopping pussy lips before coming back out, slowly getting you prepared for his full length. 

It was sweet of him to be so patient, but you were on the verge of tears at the frustration you felt. “Please, Shouto! More.” 

“What should you call me again, princess?” he drawled, continuing the leisure movements of rubbing his head against your lips. The fluids smeared all over your pussy and dribbled down onto your thighs and his bedsheets. If you weren’t so aroused, you might’ve been a bit embarrassed. But there was no time for that when all you wanted at this very moment was for Shouto to fuck you silly. 

“Sir—!” you corrected yourself in a whimper. “Please, sir, I want your fat cock to fill me up.” 

He groaned at your words, pulling out of your folds until only the very tip of his dick was touching you and then thrusting forward into your wet depths as you let out a loud cry of pleasure. You felt a stretch inside you as you adjusted to his length, Shouto taking note of how you stiffened and giving you time to get more comfortable. 

He began to nibble at your breast, sucking and biting your perk nipples as your arousal built. He nipped you, causing you to gasp in surprise (a very pleasant surprise) before soothing the bite with his tongue. As you arched your back, he swirled the tip of his tongue around your nipple and you hooked your leg around his hips, pushing into his lower back with your calf to signal for more.

“Ready now?” 

You nodded fervently. 

“Words, princess.”

“Y-Yes, sir,” you managed, voice shaky from your gratification being filled by Shouto. “Use my pussy to make you feel good. Please.”

“You always make me feel good, Y/N,” he said sincerely, removing his mouth from your breast to kiss you on the lips. Your tongues intertwined and you tasted yourself on him. “You’re amazing, you know?” 

You smiled into the kiss. “Show me how amazing you think I am with your cock then.”

“Anything for my princess.”

With that, he pounded into you, holding you at the waist to steady your squirming. You hitched your leg higher and higher around his back, canting your hips to let him thrust into you at deeper angles until he hit the spot. 

“Oh—! Oh, god,” you mewled in satisfaction, his cock making you feel so good you were certain your eyes almost rolled back into your head. “Fuck, right there, Shouto— Yes!” 

At your vocal encouragement, Shouto pushed into you even deeper, his swollen tip rubbing into you at the perfect angle. Your head lolled to the side and your cheek pressed against the soft pillow as you salivated at the intense feeling of his cock thrusting in and out of your weeping pussy. 

“Mn,” he made a noise, softly tapping your cheek. “Keep your eyes on me, princess. Don’t look away.” 

You struggled to blink away how dazed you felt, feeling so good it was almost unbearable. Somehow, you managed to turn your head back to face him, trying to hold eye contact. “‘M sorry. You feel so good,” you sighed contentedly. “Like your cock was made for me.” 

He held your leg higher and you just about screamed from pleasure. “You feel so good too,” he said, one hand stretching your leg up and the other reaching down to toy with your clit. “Never want this to end.” 

With his fingers and thumb rubbing against your clit and his member hitting your g-spot, you were certain your throat was going to grow hoarse by the end of the night from all your screaming. You swore you saw stars.

“Want to,” you panted, thrusting your hips up to match his movements, “do this...with you...every...day.” 

“Please.”

When his lips found your breast again to tug at your nipple, you couldn’t help yourself any longer. 

“S-Shouto, I— I’m going to come,” you told him, voice pleading. You really hoped he let you come. 

He hummed in agreement. “Me too. Come with me, princess.” 

You lifted his head from your breasts to meet your mouth, kissing into him as you both felt the sweet release of pleasure coursing through your bodies, all the way from the top of your head to the curl of your toes. 

His pace slowed as he carried the two of you through your highs. Shouto removed his finger from its position of making circles onto your clit to let you cool down with him. In a state of euphoria, you kissed him, both of you riding your orgasms until you felt nothing but completely happy and thoroughly satiated. 

Still not taking his lips off of yours, he moved from being on top of you to lying beside you. Your eyes fluttered shut even as you kissed, nuzzling into his hot, sticky body and ready to pass out. 

“‘M sleepy,” you mumbled onto his lips. You just wanted to stay like this. Forever if you could. 

Shouto smoothed down your brow, his thumb moving in gentle strokes. “Let’s get you cleaned up first, princess. Then you can sleep.”

The rational part of you knew it would be best to clean up. But your overwhelming desire was simply to never let go of him. “Wait! I still want you.” Lazily, you murmured, “Let’s do it again.”

“You’re about to fall asleep but you want to have another round?”

You nodded. “I...might fall asleep during it, but yes. Want to do it with you again and again.”

Shouto smiled, shaking his head in amusement. But you pouted. It wasn’t a joke, you meant it. You just wanted to stay by his side. 

“We can,” he said and you instantly brightened up, “another day.” You huffed. “When you can stand on your own two feet without falling over.”

Your lower lip jutted out in a frown. 

“Don’t look so down, princess.” He kissed the top of your head. “It can be tomorrow or the next day.”

Slowly, you perked up again. “Or the day after that? And the next day after that?”

With a laugh, he nodded. “Anytime you want me. I’m yours.”

“I’ll always want you, Shouto,” you told him sincerely, gazing into his eyes.

His face was colored a light pink, his hair plastered to his forehead, and his lips were swollen and bright red. He looked beautiful. It was a sight you’d never tire of.

“I’ll always want you too, Y/N. More than anything. I...love you.”

And in that moment, there was nothing else in the world you would rather hear. No one else you’d rather be with. You were happy to have Shouto and that was better than all the money in the world.

“I love you too.”

— ✩ —

A few days have passed since the fateful night you exchanged ‘I love you’s with Shouto and now you were back at work. 

As usual, you were working the morning shift with some cranky customers, trying your best to make the start of their day go as smoothly as possible. And, as per usual, Shouto walked into the cafe a few minutes after rush hour to spend a part of his morning with you.

“Good morning, sir. How can I help you today?” you said teasingly, giving him a brief kiss over the counter, chaste enough that no one else would notice but you two. 

“Morning, princess.” He smiled. “I’ll have a medium flat white, please.” 

“Of course. And could I interest you in some of our fresh pastries?” you laughed. “Oddly enough, we have your favorite today.”

He perked up at your words. “Cheese danishes?” 

“Yup!”

“I’ll have five boxes of a dozen, please.”

Humming to yourself, you entered his order into the register and told him the price. “Your order will be to your left when it’s completed,” you recited, knowing he’s heard this plenty of times before. After he paid and got ready to walk away from the counter, you playfully called out, “So, no tip this time?”

Shouto smirked, glancing back at you with a teasing glint in his eyes. “Maybe I can pick you up tonight and give you a tip then.”

“A...tip?” you asked, stifling a giggle behind your hands. “Was that an innuendo?”

“Innuendo—?” A look of realization crossed his face and his cheeks colored. 

You grinned to yourself. As confident and well put together Shouto could be (which you very much enjoyed and found incredibly attractive), you also got extreme pleasure in seeing him blush and grow flustered. 

“No… I didn’t intend it like that.” He paused, thinking on it. “Well, I guess I did. But I didn’t mean to make a pun of it…”

Your laughter rang out across the whole store, smile spreading bigger and bigger. “You’re cute, Shouto. Thanks for the laugh.” 

He looked sheepish but nodded. “Thanks for letting me hear your laugh. It’s radiant.”

“Smooth talker.” You stuck your tongue out. 

“Just the truth.”

“Hmm,” you sighed happily, a feeling of contentment and euphoria settling within you. “But about your tip…”

Shouto blushed. 

“I’d love to come over tonight,” you told him. “Any excuse to see my lovely boyfriend.”

“You never need an excuse to see me. Because I always want to be with you too.” 

The two of you kissed again, unable to help yourselves. Though it was brief and light, it still sent tingles down your spine. 

Shouto was sweeter than any cheese danish or chocolate croissant you could ever make, better than any tip you could ever receive, and you couldn’t wait to continue your life with him. 

a/n: omg...this is the end ╥﹏╥ thank you to every who read and commented and sent asks and just supported this series in general ! it was very fun to write and i have a toothache from all of shouto’s sweetness and fluff hfjhggg tysm for reading ily !! xx sof 

[takuyakistall]

to yuu.

Note: I wanted to write short HCs for each character as they wrote the letter when I finished reading everyone's thank you messages (◕ᴗ◕✿) ! All of them are very cute and I couldn't help but get some midnight rot so I had to write it down. Here's the link to the post where every message is listed down. Before you start reading, just a heads up, most of these are written in a romantic light. I also recommend reading the letters themselves first before heading here.

Characters: All students + Grim (Excluding Ortho)

Riddle Rosehearts

"Dear friend," Riddle thought that it was the most appropriate way to address you—or at least, that's what his brain is trying to make him think. Ever since overblotting and you helping him snap out of his frenzy, he had difficulty in labeling what exactly you were to him.

Before everything, you were supposed to be just a mere acquaintance to him and yet here you were sending him gifts out of the blue. The general "rule" towards receiving gifts was to give the giver your thanks. Albeit the better option was to thank you personally, he thought that maybe a letter would be better so that he can sort out his thoughts.

Friend. He nodded, proceeding to write down the rest of his message until he realized that this was an opportunity to invite you to tea with him under the pretense of paying you back for the gift. He furrowed his eyebrows slightly as he continued writing.

Surely, you would accept his invitation, right?

Trey Clover

"Hey you," was that too casual? Too rude sounding? Trey shook his head as he stared at the two words. He hadn't been expecting a gift from you and frankly, he was more than a bit surprised. Though perhaps he hadn't read the "gift" part when he suddenly started writing down questions about what you liked.

He immediately started thinking of how he should pay you back—gifts? He doesn't know your taste that well. Favours? Hmm, he's not too sure about that one. That's why he decided to ask, if there was something you wanted—he'll do his best to find it for you. A tempting offer, right?

It seems like you have to tell him that this wasn't a trade.

Cater Diamond

"Helloooooo," he started off. The extra amount of Os he used was proof that he's trying to take this occurrence casually. Though in the inside he was absolutely beaming. Gifts never fail to put a smile on his face, especially if it came from someone you didn't expect to give you a gift or someone special to him.

In this case, it was probably the latter. He took a small break as he stared at your gift, wondering what he should write. A small smile took over his face as he picked up his phone and snapped a few selfies of him with your gift with a caption before hitting the post button.

"Received a gift from a dear friend, isn't it amazing? ♪"

Deuce Spade

"Friend," Deuce rarely got to experience receiving gifts from friends to one another judging how his past years were spent as a delinquent. To say that he was happy to receive one from you was an understatement, he was over the moon.

He felt the need to mention it to you with a huge grin on his face. He thought of various ways to give you something back as he let out a small hum, he felt like he was having a field day. He signed the message and told himself that today was going to be a great day.

Ace Trappola

"Hey you," Ace was terribly suspicious of the fact that you sent him a gift out of the blue. Were you trying to buy him silence over something you did? Were you trying to convince him to do your homework for you? A lot of questions springed up inside his mind but not once did he think that it was just a genuine, sweet gift with no ulterior motives hidden beneath.

He knew that you would get mad at him if he continued to suspect you so he said that he was kidding in all caps with three dots after that—which didn't help his situation at all.

He felt awkward trying to convey his feelings like this and he ruffled his own hair as he told you that he just needed to tell you something later, when you're face-to-face. That would make it easier for him to speak.

Leona Kingscholar

"Good day," Leona uncharacteristically typed. He felt like he was being held at gunpoint by his past etiquette teachers as he tried to think of an appropriate response. If it were up to him, he would've just slapped a "thank you" on a piece of paper and asked Ruggie to give it to you.

Though he thought that perhaps it was better for him to actually put in effort for once. Even if it seemed like his so called effort seemed like something he just stole from the internet—that was more than enough, right? He'll just put his signature at the bottom and ask Ruggie to give it to you.

Ruggie Bucchi

"Hey you," a big grin took over his face as he wrote down his first few words. He wasn't as experienced as other people when it came to writing down messages of gratitude, he once tried consulting Leona about it—asking how to make it sound decent only to be met with an answer that went like: "Just put whatever."

And that's what he did! Truly, he's thankful for receiving a gift. For a split second, he wondered if he should share it with the people back in his homeland. Though he pushed that thought to the back of his head as he signed the bottom of the paper with his signature. He'll figure that out once he gives the letter to you.

Jack Howl

"Friend," he doesn't know what to say it's embarassing. Even in letters, he still manages to retain that straightforward yet somewhat roundabout personality of his. A tinge of embarrassment seeping through the letter.

He wished he could've just talked to you in person instead but alas, he was stuck here trying to rack his brain for words. In the end, he felt like it was best to keep it simple—the slightly demanding tone at the end was the result of him getting flustered at the thought that it's possible that it could be a date between the two of you.

Azul Ashengrotto

"My dear friend," Azul couldn't count the number of times he had crumpled a piece of paper and threw it into the trashcan only to get a new one—rinse and repeat. Jade and Floyd had to stifle their laughter when they saw how distressed he was over a single message. Though, perhaps that was the fruit of his unconventional feelings towards the giver.

He didn't want to sound too stiff and professional to the point that he sounded like a robot but also, he didn't want to sound too casual to the point that you might find it weird. He had to let out a small sigh as he ruffled his hair, another piece of paper thrown into the trash can before deciding that he should just play it safe and give you a free drink.

Jade Leech

"To my dearest," oh no. His hand slipped and accidentally made his greeting more intimate than it should be, he could go back and change it but—fufu, where's the fun in all of that? His lips tugged up into a smirk as he continued writing, knowing full well that what he was implying would evoke an interesting reaction out of you. But, if that wasn't enough to stir you up a bit then why not put a little more something? He was a prick this way.

He spotted an empty space on one of his shelves in the corner of his eye, glancing at it for a few seconds before an idea popped into his head. A smile that barely showed off his sharp canines, hidden beneath his gloved hand.

"Truly. Would I lie to you?"

Floyd Leech

"Little shrimpy," he grinned. Floyd was in an especially good mood today after receiving such a thoughtful gift from you. He played with his pen in hand, spinning it around as a distant look took over his face when he tried thinking about the reason why you gave him a gift out of nowhere.

Knowing that Floyd pays a little more attention to you than others, he was bound to be curious and he was more than eager to find out—there's always a reason behind someone's actions, after all. He tried expressing his intent to get the answer out of you which came out a little threatening but if you saw the look on his face there's no mistaking that it was an even bigger threat than you initially thought.

Kalim Al-Asim

"Hey love," Kalim was as straightforward as ever. Not a single filter as he wrote down his raw feelings. There was no reason for him to hesitate especially now that he was practically about to shake from pure joy—he was incredibly close to signing the letter and hopping into his magic carpet to give it to you personally but Jamil was there beside him to stop him if he ever does that.

Though that didn't mean that it was gonna stop him from wanting to ask you out on a magic carpet date with him, he'll just have to explain to Jamil when you accept his invitation. That is assuming you'll accept, right?

Jamil Viper

"Dear friend," Kalim practically forced him to write a letter back to you. Jamil wasn't an ingrate, he knew when to show gratitude when it was appropriate but he preferred thanking you in person. He had to settle for this in the meantime, he thought that maybe he'll just invite you to Scarabia to talk about what he could give in return.

He hadn't really expected a gift from you, especially with all the trouble he might've caused you due to his overblot. Though he didn't think it was all that bad. In fact, he felt a little relieved that you didn't hold any grudge against him.

Vil Schoenheit

"My dear," Vil had an unmistakable smirk placed upon his lips. The choice of words he wrote managed to give out a slightly smug vibe as he stared at your gift on his desk. Impressed by your ability for finding him a suitable gift, he decided to give you a little bit in return.

His smirk slowly turned into a gentle smile as he imagined your face probably tearing up at the thought of him giving you a signed card, he couldn't help but put an offhanded comment near the end. But it was quickly followed up with a single bit of rare praise from him.

Rook Hunt

"Hey love," Rook was always one to act dramatically whenever he had the chance and even in letters, he managed to sound dramatic. As soon as he realized that you had sent him a gift he started gushing about how wonderful it was and how inspiration was raining down on him like tiny droplets.

What's a better way to let his raw emotions out than poetry? That's right, this man wrote you a poem expressing how he feels because of your gift. He almost forgot to say his gratitude because he got carried away but thankfully, Epel pointed it out to him before he could give it to you.

Epel Felmier

"Dear friend," he rarely got any gifts from anyone outside his relatives so when he saw you give him a gift, he was excited to say the least. There's always a certain joy you can evoke in a person when you give them a gift it was almost euphoric for some. He thought that it was sweet of you to give him a gift and decided to give one back with a small message.

Friend. For some reason, it felt a bit off addressing you as that but he quickly shook his head and shot down that thought. As for his gift, he prepared a little something he made himself. Hehe, he's quite proud of it too!

Idia Shroud

"@YOU" it was interesting how Idia didn't bother changing to formal speech when he decided to give you a thank you message for your gift. He's typing the same way he would to his friend, namely "Crimson Muscle", but perhaps that was because he didn't know of any other way to talk to you without sounding unnatural or weird.

People would normally not even think about giving him something and yet you gave him one. He couldn't help but smile a bit when he said how you were a bit of an oddball—he came up with various nicknames for you inside his head. Most of them being different words for the term "weirdo". Yet they always had a hint of affection whenever he would think of it.

Malleus Draconia

"Dearest," Malleus started off. It was rare that he received gifts from people outside his family or nobles back in the Valley since a lot of people found him intimidating—terrifying for some, even. He was glad that you felt comfortable enough around him to show simple gestures such as these. Upon receiving your gift, Lilia noticed how it came from you and urged Malleus to write his thank you message differently from how he usually writes it.

Did you perhaps know of the legends surrounding the Thorn Witch...? If so, then maybe he could sneak in a little joke. The gift of beauty and the gift of song—ah, nevermind. He pursed his lips slightly, he'll just handpick a gift for you himself. A small gargoyle statue, maybe. Or he could ask the other members of Diasomnia to help him.

Lilia Vanrouge

"My dear," his lips formed a small smirk. Lilia appreciated all surprises, big or small. Though, in particular, something about your surprise gift made him more excited about it than usual. Was that just his old age getting to him or was it something else? He couldn't be bothered to think about it that much.

As a form of gratitude, he weighed his options. It was either giving you a gift back or letting you ask a favour of him. He thought the latter would be more acceptable until an idea popped into his head as his eyes sparkled with a hint of mischief. He knew you didn't know what it exactly meant but he gave you his signature nonetheless—he'll leave you to figure out.

Silver

"Hey you," Lilia taught Silver that it was common courtesy to show gratitude when someone gives him a gift. He tried thinking of countless ways to say thank you with his old man bugging him to ask you out on a date instead in the background. In the end, he paid Lilia no attention and instead went with the standard short message and giving a gift back.

He urged himself not to fall asleep as he typed out his message even though he already let out a yawn without him noticing. He glanced at the screen blankly, wondering if he forgot to add anything until he slowly felt himself snoozing off. Head resting on the keyboard and typing out whatnot. When Lilia arrived at the scene, he didn't bother waking him up and just sent the message as it is.

Silver was so embarassed the next day and refused to talk to Lilia temporarily.

Sebek Zigvolt

"Human," he didn't even try addressing you as anything else other than that even in letters. When he found a gift lying by his room, he was a tad suspicious but loosened up when he read the tag attached to it. As stated, it came from you and the gift was meant for Malleus—wait, what. Sebek scrunched up his face as his eyes scanned the words printed on it.

"To Sebek Zigvolt" This was a mistake, right? Sebek was a bit flushed but quickly shook it off by saying how it was probably a subterfuge or whatever that was. There was no way it was for actually for him, right? Surely, you must've sent this in hopes of hearing more about the great Malleus Draconia. Right?

That is... Wonderful!

Grim

"Dear underling," it was cute how he made an effort to write you a letter despite being in the same dorm wherein he could just talk to you directly. But perhaps he was so touched to the extent that he wanted to do this—did you give him tuna? He struggled thanking you properly and ended up boasting about how he was going to be the greatest sorcerer.

Even though he called you underling at first, he couldn't help but soften up a bit. That didn't sit right with him somehow, he didn't know why. He let out a groan as he racked his head for a more appropriate word until-!

Partner... Sounds about right.