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ilylovelyz · 1 year ago

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⍣ ೋ after the break up (prt 2)

˚ · . kenma kozume, iwaizumi hajime, tsukishima kei, ushijima wakatoshi & atsumu miya (prt 1.)

KENMA KOZUME — he feels really stupid. kenma does a lot after the breakup in order to distract himself. he buys more games, staying up until it's almost dawn. all of his attention goes into his video games and other devices that he completely stops taking care of himself subconsciously. it's only when he's lost almost 10 pounds is when he realizes how neglected he's become. it happened so fast it confuses him. why didn't you remind him to eat? or shower? oh.. right, it's because you broke up with him in the first place. still, he tries to forget. it's one night playing a game when he's dissociating randomly thinking about you does it all hit.

Super Mario Bro's plays in the background of his room. for once, his fingers are still but his eyes are locked on the pixilated screen in front of him. his eyes are red and dialted due to the bright screen contrasting to the dark dead of night. this game was very expensive, vintage and one of a kind—yet he's subconsciously stuck thinking about you.

did you know he thought about you so frequently? did you think the same of him? he drops the console, fishing his phone out from below him. his fingers tap on the keyboard, searching up your name into his contacts. he notices the last time you texted him was over a month ago. oh–, right. you broke up with him. right. kenma drops his phone back down, laying his face down into the same giant kirby plushie you bought him a long time ago.

a soft sniffle escapes through the thick material, mixing in with the almost taunting upbeat cartoon music.

IWAIZUMI HAJIME — your breakup was done on good terms. he was moving to the U.S., you were staying in Japan. neither of you knew the relationship wouldn't withstand such a long distance relationship so the relationship came to an end. the two of you still call and text over random things, but it's not like how things were before. time passes, and the two of you have less and less contact. iwaizumi is doing his weekly stalking of your Instagram when he realizes you've posted a photo of yourself.. but you aren't alone.

iwaizumi sighs with content when he's finally allowed to sit down, his legs sore from harsh muscle training. as always, he checks his phone. once he's finished going through his messages, ignoring almost everyone except his mom, he comes across your contact. the last you spoke with him was almost a year ago. he frowns, he wishes the two of you kept in contact, but you both were just so busy.

curiously, he indulges in his guilty pleasure and opens up instagram. as if on autopilot, he searches for your online handle. you both follow each other, but of course, never speak. he mindlessly scrolls through your highlights and posts, ending up on your most recent one. it's you. his heart flutters at the sight of you once more. even through a screen, you're still as beautiful as always. you're glowing and radiant as always.

his childish smile soon disappears when he realizes someone has their arm wrapped around you. a guy. a guy who is looking at you with the same loving look iwaizumi would give you long, long, ago. iwaizumi uninstalls the app shortly afterwards.

TSUKISHIMA KEI — he avoids you. he pretends you don't exist altogether. his heart cringes whenever he hears you around, regretting immensely when the two of you arranged your classes together in the previous year. it's childish. no, he's childish. especially because the breakup was more of his fault. still, he hides the fact that his heart is broken. he treats you like everybody else with such hate and bitterness, and only realizes how stupid he's being when it's too late.

"hey kei." you say, walking along aside the tall blonde. "do you want to work on the project together? sensei said that–," "i don't want to work with you." he says coldly. tsukishima doesn't even look to acknowledge you, staring straight forward as he walks. "o-oh, well i just y'know—" you stutter embarrassingly, "i just thought that because—" tsukishima finally stops in his tracks, swiftly turning to you, looking at you through clouded lenses.

"why do you keep on pestering me." his tone leaves you shocked. you can't even think of words to say, only able to let out incoherent stutters and mumbles. "all you do is stutter, it's annoying." tsukishima says nonchalantly, still looking at you with distain.

that seems to shut you up for now. tsukishima is relived when you do, if you talked to him anymore he probably would've accidentally spilled how he missed you. his relief is short lived when he sees the tears roll down your face and out of embarrassment, you quickly walk away from him. he's left standing still, gazing down at the floor. heart heavy and regretting.

USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI — he thinks he's alright but he doesn't realize he's distraught. he continues on with his life like normal, seemingly at peace and happy with whatever he's doing. but, he does have to admit, he's been feeling a bit more.. confused? more like agitated. outside of his calm demeanor to untrained eyes, he seems perfectly normal. but, to those who are close with them, they can see what's actually going on in that seemingly perfect head of his.

hazel eyes watch closely as you walk past. ushijima awaits for you to come up to him like normal, talk to him and pester him with a million questions once more. he hated when you pestered him, he wished you were more quiet and reserved... or did he? he's not sure. because now you are walking away from him, not saying a single word. hell, you barely acknowledge his presence. how do you not? he's everything you said catches your eye, tall and muscular build, with a handsome perfect face.

"y/l/n." he rumbles out. the boom of his voice finally catches your attention, finally spinning around to acknowledge him. you seem defensive, like a cornered cat, a single eyebrow quirking up at his call. "..ushijima-san?" his heart, for some reason, sinks into his gut with the formality use of his name. what happened to toshi? for once, his words are stuck in his throat and he struggles to come up with something to say.

seeing that he's yet to say anything, you hurry out of his presence, trying to be released from the gaze of the man you are forbidden to love. meanwhile, ushijima is realizing for the first time, that maybe he lost someone who he isn't fine with leaving.

MIYA ATSUMU — he's like a pitiful dog. he plays off the break up like it's nothing, even to your face, he just shrugged his shoulders and mumbled something under his breath and walked away. despite the two of you dating for a year, going through so many things together, hell, he even lost his virginity to you, but he still acts like it was nothing.. but everyone can tell it's not. much to his annoyance, even his twin brother tells him to take it easy following the break up. but he's fine. it was nothing. he definitely doesn't search for you in the crowd during his games, nor does he get the random pang of forgetfullness after school as if he should be waiting for you. he's fine.

a girl comes up to atsumu after his game, batting her long eyelashes and pouting her lips. "can i get your number?" she asks, making her voice as smooth as possible. atsumu blinks at her with a blank face before turning his back to her, ignoring her entirely. he ignores her whines and curses of embarrassment, his eyes scanning the emptying crowd.

"shes not here, 'tsumu." he hears a familiar voice say. atsumu snaps his head back to the direction of the voice, seeing osamu standing there with his hands in his pockets, eyes low and unamused. atsumu scoffs at his brother, "yah i know." the two of them wait in silence, but for what? what is he waiting for? suddenly, his ears perk up at a familar body frame, eyes darting to the source only to be severally disappointed with the sight of a person who looks like you, but isn't you.

"let's go home, 'tsumu." osamu says, walking past the blonde haired man. atsumu waits a couple more seconds, taking another quick scan of the crowd before he's hestiantly following his brother, shoulders low and eyes to the ground.

please like and repost with tags

#haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu angst #atsumu miya #ushijima wakatoshi #kozume kenma #tsukishima kei #iwaizumi hajime #atsumu x reader #ushijima x reader #kenma x reader #tsukishima x reader #iwaizumi x reader

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rafeys-baby · 1 month ago

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𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐰𝐢𝐟𝐞 - ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

(Smut; Rafe Cameron x Y/n)

౨ৎ

The house is quiet the way Rafe likes it. Clean floors. Soft light. Something homemade warming in the oven. And you, waiting in the dining room, dressed like a dream from another time.

Your pale blue dress flutters just around your knees when you walk. The neckline is modest. The waist is cinched. You even wore the white lace apron he likes so much. Not because he told you to. But because you want him to notice. Want him to look at you the way only he does.

You hear the door open and set the table with a practiced calm. Forks on the left. Knives on the right. His bourbon is already poured.

He walks in without a word. Drops his keys. Tosses his jacket over the back of a chair. He smells like money and cold air and just a little bit of danger. You straighten your back and smooth your dress, standing like the wife you know he expects.

“Look at you,” he mutters, his voice low and rough as he walks toward you. “Pretty little thing in a dress. Like God intended.”

You smile, soft and obedient. “Welcome home, baby.”

He reaches for you immediately. His hands rough from the day, but his grip is familiar. One palm on your hip, the other curling around your jaw. He tilts your face up and studies you.

“I passed three women in pantsuits today barking orders at their soyboy assistants. One had purple hair. I almost crashed the damn car.”

You laugh, just a little. He likes that you find it as ridiculous as he does. That you’re nothing like the women he hates.

“I don’t even own pants,” you remind him gently.

“Damn right you don’t.”

His voice darkens. His thumb presses against your bottom lip. You open your mouth without hesitation. Just like he’s trained you to.

“Good girl,” he says.

Then he spits into your mouth.

Slow. Intentional. No hesitation.

You swallow. Of course you do.

He’s already kissing you before you can take a breath. His mouth crushes yours. Tongue claiming what he just gave you. His hand fists in your hair and he kisses you deeper, rougher, like you’re not even supposed to breathe without him. You moan into his mouth. It only spurs him on.

His other hand grabs your ass through the fabric of your dress. You feel him growing hard against you and press closer. He makes a sound low in his throat and pulls back just enough to speak.

“You’re not like those other girls. Those loud ones. Those feminist ones who think they’re men.”

“No,” you whisper. “I’m yours.”

“Damn right you are. You clean. You cook. You wear dresses like a lady. You stay quiet unless I ask you a question. You don’t post your ass online or flirt with strangers. You’re mine. You know how rare that is?”

You nod, flushed. Eyes glossy.

He kisses you again. This time slower. Deeper. His tongue explores like it owns the space and you let him take whatever he wants. His hand slides up your thigh, under your dress, grazing the lace of your panties.

“You wait here for me all day. Sweet. Polite. Pretty. That’s what a woman’s supposed to be.”

“I want to be good for you.”

“You already are.”

He pulls you in closer. His lips brush your ear.

“And when I’m done eating dinner, I’m going to take you into the bedroom and fuck you like you belong in that bed. Right where I left you this morning.”

You nod again. Cheeks warm. Heart pounding.

“Yes, Rafe.”

Because this is his house. His rules.

And you’d never dare break them.

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #drew starkey x reader #outerbanks rafe #rafe fanfiction #rafe #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #rafe cameron smut #rafe smut #rafe cameron x reader smut #rafe cameron fluff #obx rafe cameron #sexist!rafe

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softspiderling · 11 months ago

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i’ll run my fingers through your hair | j.v

synopsis: jace + modern au + hair

pairing: jacaerys velaryon x reader

word count: 1,1k

author’s note: just a little not very serious drabble/mini fic about you tying jace’s hair in a pony… bc i couldn’t stop thinking about it during work. unedited, written on a whim in like 20 minutes on my phone… @eldrith put the gun away. also football ✅⚽️ not ❌🏈

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Ever since Jace had grown his hair out he had only seen positive changes his new hair cut had brought in his life. He had gotten tons of compliments (from friends, family AND strangers), questions about his “hair care routine” (water, shampoo and leave in conditioner… was that enough steps to call it a routine?) and of course, the way you were tugging on it whenever he was between your legs. That, he enjoyed particularly.

In all the upsides, he had never thought there would be downsides as well. Clearly, he completely forgot about the football season.

The last games had already been over before his hair started curling around his ears, the process of growing it out taking longer than expected. But now that training was back on, he had been struggling with his curls sticking to the back of his neck or falling into his face while he sprinted across the field and Jace actually started contemplating getting it cut before the first game.

“Don’t you dare,Jacaerys Targaryen.”

Jace flinched when you full-named him, quickly locking his phone, the hair dresser’s online appointment website fading to black. You only ever full-named him when you were serious about something. He hadnt realized you were so invested in his hair.

“I wasn’t gonna get it all chopped of!” he insisted. “Only like a trim maybe.”

“Absolutely not.”

“But babe,” he whined, his lower lip jutting out in a pout, one of his most used weapons to try to get his way with you. “This season’s so important, and I can’t be distracted by hair.”

It was his first year starting as captain of the Dragons, the last thing he needed was being distracted by his hair, He would not lose because of vanity.

“There are less drastic ways than cutting your beautiful hair off!”

You ran your fingers through his brown locks, your nails scratching against his scalp and Jace nearly melted into the couch, his eyes rolling to the back of his head.

“Like what?”

His words sounded breathless when he spoke and you were grinning when you climbed over the back of the couch, plopping yourself next to him.

“Come down here and I’ll show you,” you said, gesturing to the floor in front of you. Jace sighed, but did as you asked anyways, folding his legs under himself. He leaned back against the couch as you combed through his hair with your hand, making his eyes flutter closed. His muscles automatically relaxed as soon as you put your hands into his hair, it was like magic.

“- half-up half-down…Hey, are you even listening to me?”

“Hm?”

“If you’re not gonna listen when I’m trying to help you-!”

“Okay, okay, I’m listening, sorry!” Jace reached back to curl his hand around your wrist, bringing it forward to place a kiss on the back of your hand. “You said something about half-up half-down…?”

You huffed.

“I need my hand back, Jace.”

Jace let go of your wrist and you sectioned his hair off with your fingers, tugging on it a little, as he shifted on the floor, before tying his hair off with an elastic.

“Look at it.”

Jace grabbed his phone, opening the camera on it to look at himself, the upper half of his hair now pulled back in a small pony, leaving his face free of his hair. For some reason, he had never thought about tying his hair off.

“Isn’t that… Girly?” he asked,

You gave him a look.

“Your father had the same hairstyle for your mother’s birthday last month. I think we can both agree on the fact that your father is not girly.”

Jace let out a huff, settling back against the couch. He did not like how lilty your voice got whenever you talked about his dad. He looked at the camera again, starting to get used to it.

“Doesn’t look half bad,” he admitted, looking at his hair from all angles. “What if I can’t tie it properly though and it’ll just unravel in the middle of the game? I think that might be even worse than just starting with my hair untied.”

“If you can’t do it yourself, I’ll do it for you,” you said, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Hm,” Jace hummed, tilting his phone to snap a picture of the two of you, your laugh echoing in his ears.

Said picture now was opened on his phone, as Jace tried to use it as a reference to tie his hair off. The first game of the season was about to start, and the whole team was in a frenzy. This was usually the opportunity Jace used to give his team mates a pep talk, rally them around, but he was too busy fighting with his hair and his vice-captain Cregan was still in the showers, taking his ritualistic ice bath (yes, he was superstitious; when they lost 3:4 against the White Walkers, Cregan insisted it was because he didn’t have time to take his ice bath, Jace knew it was because Addam had been out injured and Aegon had taken his place in the squad).

“Shit, how the fuck did she do it?” Jace muttered, bringing the hair tie around his hair, glancing between the reference picture and the mirror.

“Hey Cap, the cheerleaders are starting in ten minutes so we should be out in five, are you done fixing up your hair?” Ulf asked, stepping way into Jace’s personal space, despite Jace telling numerous times to fuck off.

“Shut up,” Jace huffed, his eye twitching in annoyance when his phone screen darkened. “Do me a favor and go get my girl from the stands.”

“Ooh what, the big ol’ Prince can’t start the game without seeing his ‘wittle girlfriend?” Ulf cackled, but his grin soon faded when Jace turned around to glare at him, his hand still around his hair.

“Do you want to start off the season on the bench, White?”

“Sorry Cap, I’ll go get your girl right away.”

Ulf scampered off with his tail between his legs and Jace sighed, letting go of his hair.

“Cregan, you’ve got about one minute to get your ass out of the ice bath before I replace you with Aemond!”

“I’ll be right out, Jace!”

“We better win this goddamned game,” Jace muttered to your smiling face on his phone.

They won 5:2.

But their victory was only a byline in the uni’s paper the following week, a picture of Jace’s half-up half-down hairstyle taking up half of the front page.

DRAGONS’ CAPTAIN GRACING THE FIELD WITH NEW HAIRSTYLE!

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

author’s note: don’t forget to leave a comment if you liked it🫶🏼

#jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys x reader #jace x reader #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys x you #prince jacaerys #jacaerys targaryen #jacaerys velaryon fanfiction #jacaerys velaryon fanfic #jacaerys velaryon fic #jacaerys velaryon imagine #jace x you

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improbable-outset · 7 months ago

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📄 𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐦

Kenji Sato x Fem!Reader

𝐀𝐎𝟑 | 𝐌𝐲 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬 | 𝐔𝐥𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 5.7k

𝐓𝐖 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐖: Coach’s daughter AU, Fluff, lots of shameless flirting, teasing, secret relationship

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Over coffee and conversation, Ken finds solace in a café, far from the chaos of the baseball stadium.

Ken had never felt his heart gallop this intensely before. Not even during his rise to stardom with the Dodgers back in LA could compare to the thrill and anticipation coursing through him right now.

This was more personal— unpredictable in a way that no game or spotlight could prepare him for. For the first time in his life, he wasn’t chasing a title.

It was a moment with someone special that made everything else feel secondary.

Tucked away in a quiet street of Tokyo’s lesser known district, the glow of the neon signs reflected off slick pavements as he watched you navigate the path, weaving between parked bikes and stray vending machines.

The faint hum of the distant train was the only sound that filled the night’s silence.

“Ken!” your voice rang through the empty streets, bright and familiar. As you drew closer, Ken couldn’t help but notice how the muted lights reflected in your glossy eyes, giving them an otherworldly sparkle.

He didn’t say anything until you were close enough for you to hear him without yelling.

“You made it…” His lips curled into a smile, meeting your gaze with a tender look. “Did you get enough rest? You look a bit tired.”

“Barely,” you confessed, a playful tilt painted on your lips. “I’ve been counting down the minutes until I can see you again.”

Ken was used to fans clamoring for a moment of his time, expressing their excitement to see him. But something about the eagerness in your voice and the slight bounce in your step sent a flutter through him.

He glanced around, checking that the streets were still empty before reaching out to cradle your cheek.

“You’re so clingy.” he teased, still holding his grin.

“I would’ve kissed you right now if we weren’t in public.” you shot back with a small smirk.

Ken leaned closer until his face was eye level to yours, his voice dropped to a heated whisper

“I wouldn’t complain if you did.”

The impulse to close the distance simmered under his skin, but the risk of being seen was enough to keep him rooted.

“But I also don’t want an angry mob of your dad’s supporters coming after me after catching us in a compromising position.”

Your smile faltered, replaced by a shadow of worry. “Right…my dad. I don’t want anybody from the press finding out either.”

“Yeah, the press…” Ken’s expression hardened, his tone turning bitter.

The media always lurked, threatening to expose what little happiness he could claim. He wished he didn’t have to sneak around like this.

He envied those who could show affection openly, like some of his teammates who left games with their families in tow. The normalcy forever felt out of reach for Ken.

“Sometimes, I wonder what it would be like…” he murmured, eyes drifting past the dim glow of the distant lights. “If we dated openly, without worrying about your father, or the fans, or the media.”

Ken rarely admitted these things, but seeing how you aligned with his unspoken thoughts made it easier to voice his fragile feelings— especially about your relationship.

“What could the fans do anyway? It’s not like they could control your life.”

“You’d be surprised,” Ken said with a hint of edge. “There are some intense fans out there that take their idols' personal lives way too seriously.”

Ken didn’t want to think too deeply about a situation blowing out of proportion. If rumours began, he knew all too well how quickly fans would start prying on your life, looking for any reason to judge.

Even the slightest flaw could unleash a tornado of online harassment. He didn’t want to bring that sort of trouble into your life.

His jaws clenched, a grimace flashing across his features before he shook the thought away.

“I’m more worried about dad. If he ever found out about us…I can’t even imagine how he’d react. Especially after that latest press conference. He came home moping,” you said, the last words trailed into a tired groan.

“I know, I could’ve handled it better.” Ken chuckled, before it was shadowed by guilt as he remembered his altercation with Coach Shimura. “I hate when the press digs for gossip.”

A low rumble of an approaching car snapped him out of his thoughts. Its headlights illuminated the empty street, casting fleeting shadows over the both of you, before disappearing down the narrow road.

You take a hold of Ken’s hand and gently tug him forward. “Come on, let’s head inside.”

You slip into a small, dimly lit cafe— a hidden gem that seemed to be empty from the outside view. It’s secluded places like this that makes your relationship feel safe, untouched by the eyes of the world.

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee and warm pastries enveloped him, a silent call of the rare moment of peace you shared.

The cafe itself was modest in size, with wooden chairs and tables neatly arranged beneath the dim ambiance lighting.

There were a few patrons scattered here and there— a couple sharing a quiet intimate conversation near the window at the high table, and a few students hunched over textbooks.

Sparse decorations adorned the walls: faded vintage poster advertising sodas and sweet treats with its vibrant colours faded over time.

At the centre of each table sat a miniature cherry blossom tree, the soft pink petals contrasted against the dark wood.

Together, you crossed the cafe's interior, where a lone worker was wiping down the countertops. The glass display case in front of you showcased an array of cakes and pastries, though the selection was limited at this hour.

“You gonna order anything?” you asked, eyes scanning over the hanging menu above the counter.

“Yeah…a latte and maybe a cake, too,” Ken paused, gaze flickering over the cake display before shifting back to you. “You want anything?”

“I’ll probably get a bowl of anmitsu,” you mused, turning to meet his eyes. “What kind of cake will you be getting?”

Ken hums in thought for a moment, leaning in closer to the display. Rows of desserts were neatly arranged.

Fluffy cake rolls on the tile shelf with their swirls of cream peaking our— flavours ranged from strawberry to matcha. Slices of chiffon cakes in pastal colours on the middle shelf. And finally, tiny containers of pudding at the bottom.

“Not sure yet,” he murmured, his mind wandering over the cake display. His smile took a slight wicked edge as he added. “Maybe a cake I can feed you a bite of…”

The image of him holding out a spoonful to you flashed through his mind, followed by your lips closing around it. His imagination reeled, and he caught himself chewing his lower lip, a faint flush creeping up his neck.

Just as his thoughts threaten to wander further, your voice pulls him back to the present.

“Their chiffon cakes are always good.” you said, gesturing towards the pastel cakes.

“Yeah?” Ken followed your gaze to the neatly placed cakes. “But they’re crumbly. I’ll get cake all over your face.”

“It’ll be worth it though.” you teased.

Ken chuckled, glancing at the display again and taking another moment to look at the options again. His eyes shifted to the pastries with their delicious golden crust glistening under the light.

“Maybe I should get something messy, then,” he leaned in close to your ear, his voice dropping to a whisper again. “Like…one of those cream puffs with the sweet, sticky filling. I could lick it off your lips.”

Your eyes widened, and you let out an exaggerated gasp, swatting his chest. “Shhh! You can’t say that out here.”

“Why not?” he grinned, voice lacing with his smugness. “No one’s paying attention to us.”

Despite your playful scolding, Ken’s chest swelled with satisfaction and his ego soared.

He was aware that he shouldn’t push things too far, especially in public, but seeing how flustered you were and your stunned expression was too irresistible not to enjoy.

“Still…what if someone was eavesdropping on us.” you said, a hint of caution in your voice as your eyes darted briefly towards the other patrons.

“Then they’ll just hear me flirting. Harmless isn’t it? Doesn’t matter if they know how badly I want to taste the cream puff from your lips.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

“What? I can’t tell my girlfriend how badly I want to kiss her?”

“Hmph, just order already.” You crossed your arms with mock indignation.

“Alright I’ll order for us, you go and find us a seat.”

His eyes followed your form as you weaved through the tables, your movement unhurried but purposeful. You found a table in the corner of the cafe that offered both privacy and a clear line of sight to the entrance.

Ken couldn’t help but hold his gaze at you with the cafe’s lighting cast a warm glow over your features.

Dragging his focus back to the task at hand, Ken stepped up to the counter and placed the order— a latte and a slice of cake for himself and a bowl of anmitsu for you.

Ken watched as steam erupted with a high-pitch hiss from the milk frother, the aromatic scent of the coffee mixed with the faint sweetness from the pastries.

The barista poured the milk into the latte cup with grace and precision, creating a delicate foam on top. Besides her, another worker arranged your anmitsu, layering the sweet toppings before placing it alongside with a spoon.

When the tray was finally ready, Ken paid and carefully carried it across the room. The clinking sound of ceramic cups and murmurs of the patrons accompanied his steps.

Setting the tray down on the table with a small smile on his lips, he slid into the seat across from you, feeling the soft cushioned chair beneath him.

Your eyes swept over the content of the tray before landing on the cream puff besides the latte. Your brow arched in disbelief. “Oh my God, you actually got it.”

“I did. Why? Did you think I wouldn’t? You thought I was bluffing?”

“Well, yeah. You’re always bluffing.”

The corner of his lips curled into a smirk at your surprise. Ken pushed your amnitsu closer to you before claiming his own plate. A faint whiff of the dessert’s sweet and rich scent rose to his nose, stirring his anticipation.

Picking up the fork, he scooped a bit of the cream cake and popped it in his mouth. He deliberately closed his eyes and let out an exaggerated, drawn-out moan of pleasure at the taste.

Even with his eyes shut, he could feel your gaze burning into him. He even took it a step further and started licking the cream off his lips.

When he opened his eyes, he found you pulling a face and he couldn’t help but give you a cheeky grin. “It’s delicious, by the way…”

“Hmm, it does look good.”

“Come on…you’ve been staring at it long enough. Have a bite.”

Ken took another spoon full of the dessert before holding it out to you. The moment you leaned in to reach for the spoon, he felt his heart spike and his senses on high alert— taking in every single detail of your action.

His eyes never left your mouth as they parted and closed delicately around the fork. He felt the fork grow lighter as you took the bite.

His focus stayed on your tongue flicking across your upper lip to catch the traces of cream and powdered sugar.

Witnessing it happen in real time was far more tantalising than his imagination— the sight was intoxicating.

He swallowed thickly, forcibly pushing the heat stirring in his chest.

A heat pooled in his gut, seeing you chew on the cake thoughtfully, completely oblivious to the effect you were having on him.

Ken inhaled sharply, trying to ground himself as he reached for a napkin. His hands trembled more than usual as he leaned forward and dapped the corner of your mouth to wipe away the cream you’d missed.

But instead of pulling back after, his thumb lingered, brushing over your lower lip— the same lips he had kissed feverishly in the past. The contact was light and featherlight but enough to make his stomach flip.

You froze under his touch, meeting his gaze. Your lips parted slightly to speak.

“Light and fluffy…”

“Mhm…” Ken hummed, completely distracted. Though he wasn’t sure if he was thinking about the cream puff you just had or the softness of your lips.

“Do you wanna try mine?”

Ken blinked rapidly, snapping out of his trance. Reluctantly, he pulled his hand away from your lips, the warmth of your skin fading too quickly.

But his attention turned to your bowl of anmitsu, taking in the vibrant layers of fruit, glossy jelly cubes, and the soft mochi balls.

“Sure…looks delicious.”

Taking the spoon you offered, scooped a piece of mochi and fruit from the bowl.

The fruits were cool and refreshing in his mouth, and blended with the mochi which gave a pleasantly chewy texture.

He handed the spoon back to you, still chewing on the mochi. You pushed the fruit and the mochi around in the bowl with the spoon meticulously.

“They put a lot of mochi in this.” you commented.

“Yeah, I’m not surprised.”

You reached for the brown sugar syrup that came with your anmitsu and poured it over the bowl. “Try it now.”

Ken scooped another bite, now coated in the syrup. The sugary bursts mixed with the fruits tang, and he let out a low hum of approval at the sweetness. “Hm…it does taste better.”

“Too sweet?”

“It’s already sweet enough, though I think you’re sweeter.”

“Corny.” you said, dragging out the word to emphasise your disapproval, though the faint smile on your lips betrayed you.

Ken chuckled at your reaction, he knew you were only disguising the effect his words were having on you.

He propped his elbow on the table, leaning his chin against his palm with his eyes drinking in the sight of you.

“It’s only corny because you get flustered every time. Did you see your face earlier? When I was talking about the cream puffs?”

You only rolled your eyes at his words, a grin forming on your lips now. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“So, you’re only putting up with me because I’m cute?”

“And maybe because you’re a star player and super rich and whatever.” you replied, twirling the spoon through the anmitsu and waving your hands dismissively.

Ken tilts his head, the back and forth banter bringing a warmth in his chest. Being with you like this— relaxed and unguarded— was a relief in ways he rarely allowed himself to think about.

Having conversations like this with you felt refreshing knowing he would tease and you’ll do it right back.

He tapped his finger against his chin in a mock pensiveness before responding back. “Right, so you’re telling me it's my money and status you’re after, not my dazzling personality or good looks?”

“Oh, that too, I guess.”

“Is that how it’s gonna be, princess? Pretending you don’t secretly like me for more than my money or looks.”

“And what if I said yes?”

“Well,” he said in mock contemplation. “I’d have to work extra hard to win you over. Though I’d say that I'm pretty confident I have a head start.”

“I think you might need to focus on getting on dad’s good side first.”

Something struck inside him at your words— like a whiplash. The mention of your father always hit differently, a reminder of the uneasy dynamic that lingered between them. Ken let out a short sigh, his chest tightening.

It was still a sore spot for him that Shimura initially disapproved of him and his less-than-stellar past behind— though it wasn’t unexpected.

Despite everything Ken had accomplished back in LA— leaving his troubles behind and earning his respect in the field— it seemed his reputation preceded him.

Shimura, along with his teammates, had always treated him like the brash American kid trying to catch up, even though he came back to Japan to prove him among his own people.

With you, however, it was the opposite. You didn’t see him as an outsider or just another player in your dads team. You made him feel like he belonged.

That contrast made moments like these jarring, as if he was living two different lives— one as your boyfriend, and the other as a player constantly trying to win over your father.

Ken’s tone shifted quickly to be more serious, exposing his vulnerability in his words.

“Yeah…I’m trying, princess. It’s just, I don’t want to screw things up and risk not being able to see you again like this.”

Ken took a sip from his latte, the beverage now lukewarm against his tongue, but his mind was elsewhere and far from the cozy warmth of the cafe.

He knew he shouldn’t be dwelling on the ‘what-ifs,’ not when he was on a date with you. But as he sat there, he couldn’t ignore the nagging thoughts that pulled him under. How different would his life be if things had turned out another way?

What if his mother had never taken him to LA? If he’d stayed in Japan, would Shimura still look at him with the faint edge of distrust?

Would he see him different— one who wasn’t marked by a childhood spent feeling like an outcast in a foreign country?

Ken’s jaws clenched. He had spent most of his life in America, trying to fit into a culture that didn’t quite know what to do with him. The bullying had been relentless, the teasing cutting deep in ways he hadn’t fully healed from, leaving the scar of isolation.

Friendships were distant at best. Romantic relationships were practically nonexistent. For a long time, he felt like no one truly saw him.

Even the rise to stardom with the Dodgers hadn’t changed that much. Sure, people admired him, celebrated with him— but it still felt hollow and fragile.

None of it felt real, not like this. Not like you.

He glanced at you across the table, your head down as you inspected your dessert in front of you. If he’d never returned to Japan, he wouldn’t be sitting here right now, sharing this quiet, intimate moment with the only person who truly sees him.

Still, a bitter reminder lingered in the back of his mind. Would he have risen to stardom at all if he hadn’t gone to LA? Despite how brutal it was, the isolation and struggles had shaped him— it made him resilient-driven.

Without those years of grit and loneliness , would he have had the means to lead the Giants to victory? Would he have been ready to take his father’s Ultraman duties when the time came?

Ken sighed again, finishing off the last bite of his cream puff before taking another sip of his latte. It really was strange, the way life worked.

The very things that had made him feel out of place— his complicated family history, his American upbringing, the expectation of following his father’s footsteps— had somehow led him here, with you.

However, the weight of those ‘what-ifs’ still pressed onto his chest. His life with you— a fragile happiness— was precarious. He couldn’t shake the fear that one wrong move could send it all crashing down.

Being caught in the act by your father. It made his throat constrict with anxiety. He already knew that Shimura didn’t trust him. What if that made him believe that he wasn’t good enough for you? That he couldn’t take care of you the way you deserve?

He took another sip from his latte, though it did little to sooth the knot in his chest.

“You know,” you began, not looking up from your bowl as you stirred the syrup into the anmitsu, “being with you makes it easier to forget about everything else.” you said, not looking up from your bowl as you spoke.

Your words caught him off guard, but the tension in his shoulders started to melt. His stunned expression softened, replaced by something gentler.

“Yeah…that’s part of why I like you so much. You make me forget about everything.” His cheeks flushed slightly how openly heartfelt he was now as the words left his mouth, but he didn’t shy away from their weight. “It’s like…you make me want to be a better man.”

He reached out and let his fingers skim across the back of your hand— a subtle touch that carried all his unspoken emotions that he struggled to articulate.

You paused, looking up at him. “I don’t think I can imagine your struggles…especially considering your money and fame overshadow all of that.”

“Everyone thinks that it's easy.” Ken’s lips quivered into a humourless smile. “Being a player admired by thousands. I guess some parts of it are great. But there’s still a lot of stress and pressure.”

He glanced down at the flakes of his cream puff on the empty plate with his thoughts flickering like the steam rising from his latte.

Expectation pulled at him from every corner of Ken’s life— like a massive tree, sprawling yet burdened.

The roots that ran deep were from his fathers influence. They were planted firmly in the soil of his childhood and enchtranched his upbringing and identity.

The roots were unshakable, just like his fathers legacy of being Ultraman— something he was expected to fulfill.

No matter how far he had gone, across the Pacific to LA, he’d never truly escape those roots. Even now they wound tighter around him, tethered to the ground he was expected to nurture.

Then there was the bark— the protective layer. That was Coach Shimura and his teammates. It shielded him from the eternal storms, but it wasn’t invincible. It still demanded so much from the tree itself.

Shimura’s expectations weren’t harsh, but they were heavy and carried their own weight. The bark was strong and steady, but sometimes, it felt like it was tightening. As if holding the tree too firmly in place.

But it was the branch of the tree that weighed him down the most— the fans and the public image. They reached far and wide, growing outwardly. Branches were supposed to flourish.

But how were they expected to grow if you don’t cater to its needs. That’s what it felt like for Ken.

One wrong move; one bad game, and they could snap off. Every game felt like a performance of those branches, trying to keep those intact, making sure they don’t fall under pressure.

But no matter how strong they appeared, Ken knew how easily they could break.

And then there were the leaves, fragile and fleeting— the opinion of the critics, the headlines of papers, the ever-shifting opinions on social media.

Leaves changed with the seasons. One day could be lush and green, full of praises and admiration. The next, they withered and fell, leaving the tree bare and exposed. Their praises were temporary and their critics were choppy.

Though the leaves were less permanent, they still needed care and their loss could hurt the tree entirely. However, Ken couldn’t stop the seasons from changing or the wind from blowing.

Ken swallowed thickly, his eyes glued to the table as his train of thoughts spiraled further. Being that tree sometimes felt like he was stretching thin, trying to meet the demands of every root, branch and leaf.

And then there was you.

You weren’t a part of that endless tree. Not another branch to hold up, nor another leaf to nourish. At least, not yet. But the fear gnawed at him, dark and persistent, whispering at the edges of his mind.

What if you have expectations too?

You hadn’t said much or demanded anything, but it was only natural, wasn’t it? Relationships are always built on unspoken agreements of needs, hopes, and desires.

What kind of boyfriend did you want him to be? What were you looking for in him? Would he ever be enough?

It wasn’t that he doubted your feelings for him. It was the pressure he felt to be the person that you deserved.

To always be charming, supportive, attentive. To make time for you despite his demanding career.

For so much of his life, he had been judged by the outside world— his performance, his persona, his wins, and his losses. The thought of being seen by you that way made his throat tighten.

What if one day, you grew tired of him or wasn’t getting what you wanted from him and left? The thought alone of the empty space you would leave behind broke his heart and made his mouth dry.

It was worse than losing a game, worse than headlines calling him a failure.

Even with the lighthearted conversation and teasing you just shared earlier, his doubts were almost impossible to shrug off.

His mind were a battlefield of his insecurities and worries, but the warmth of your hands that pulled him out of his dark thoughts startled him.

You brought his hand and gently kissed over his knuckles. “Even if things do turn out bad for you, I’ll still think you’re incredible.”

The affectionate gesture unravelled him, nearly spinning him off his axis from being flustered— his mind momentarily going blank.

It wasn’t just the kiss— it was the conviction in your voice. The quiet, unwavering way you said it.

He let out a quiet sigh, his eyes half-lidded as he leaned a little closer to you. The warmth of your kiss still lingered on his hand.

“You always know how to make me feel better.” he murmured, his voice carrying a sincerity he rarely let show.

“You’ll still have all of me, even if you mess up. And I know you’ll do the same.” You brow arched as you added, “Right?”

Ken tilted his head, an amused smirk played on his lips at your remark at the end. The tension in his chest was replaced by fond amusement.

“Of course I will. You think I’d trade you in for someone else?” his voice lowered, his eyes holding yours with an intensity that made his next words feel like a vow. “I'm not letting you go princess…not for anything.”

At that moment, the weight of the world seemed distant, as if the noise of expectations and pressure had diluted to a low hum.

He was so focused on looking at you, Ken didn’t notice you sneaking your hands across the table to reach for his coffee mug until you announced it.

“I’m taking a sip from your coffee.” you said, already snatching the cup.

Ken blinked, catching up to the present. “Hey…that’s mine.”

“I don’t have anything to wash down the mochi.”

“Hmm, can’t say no to that.”

Your face scrunched slightly in distaste after you took a sip. “You don’t put sugar in coffee?”

Ken shook his head and chuckled at the face you made. “No…I like the bitterness of the coffee. It’s more enjoyable that way.”

“I suppose the cream puff makes up for the sweetness.”

“No cream puffs for you any time soon if you keep stealing my drinks.”

“I don’t want anymore anyways,” you huffed in feigned offends. “Too bitter.”

“Awh what’s wrong? Can’t handle the taste of something that’s not over-sugared.”

“It’s not that…how do you drink that raw with no sugar?” your nose scrunched in mock indignation.

“I’m just used to it, I like the stronger taste of my coffee.” he glanced down at his coffee mug before looking back at you. “How could you drink something that’s so sweet?”

“It won’t be too sweet. The sugar just cancels out the bitterness.” you said, matter-of-factly.

Ken only rolled his eyes, responding with an exaggerated sweet tone. “Sure, princess. It’s not too sweet…just enough to make it a sugary drink instead of actually having a coffee taste.”

You pushed the mug back to him, waving off his dramatics. It was almost cathartic how the conversation could go from heartfelt and tender to teasing and flirting, like a flip of a switch.

With you, it always felt right, like stepping into the sun after being caught in the rain.

Ken shook his head at your dismissal, lifting the mug to take another sip of the latte. He didn’t mind the bitterness, especially if it meant sharing more moments with you.

Your eyes flickered past him, freezing on something near the cafe entrance.

“Crap.” you muttered.

Ken’s brow furrowed before turning to see where you were looking. Blood rushed in his ear the moment he spotted his teammates walking through the door.

Their presence wasn't loud or disruptive, but rather casual as they made their way towards the counter. The familiar jerseys and laughter sent a jolt of panic through him and a look of slight trepidation crossed his face.

“Crap…” he echoed your words, quickly turning back to you. “I think that’s our queue to leave.”

What were the odds? The cafe was in a quiet area, far from the usual hotspots, and yet here they were. His shoulders stiffened as he scanned the room, trying to gauge if anyone had spotted you.

Ken stood up first, his chair scraped softly against the floor. They weren’t looking in your direction but it was only a matter of time if you both stayed there any longer.

His voice lowered in your ear. “Come on.”

His hands found your wrist, lightly gripping it as he guided you towards the door without being noticed.

“They haven’t seen us, yet.” you said, glancing nervously at the group.

“Let’s not give them the chance.” His voice was barely audible, and his grip on your wrist tightened as you both made it to the door.

The air in the cafe felt heavier with every step. Ken’s pulse quickened and he resisted the urge to look over his shoulder.

The brass of the door handle was cool against Ken’s palm as he pushed it open. The cool breeze brushed against his face, a welcome contrast to the tension that had knotted inside.

The cafe, once a warm refuge that provided comfort, now felt like a minefield— every glance a potential threat.

Ken scanned the area of anybody potentially following you both. The buzz of distant traffic and the rustle leaves were the only signs that greeted you. Once he was satisfied, he let out a loud sigh of relief.

“So, where to now?” you asked, breaking the silence.

“We should probably get off this street and go somewhere else more quiet…and private.”

Ken turned down the corner, his strides confident but unhurried. The two of you emerged into an empty car park bathed in the dim, orange glow of streetlights.

Everything else felt insignificant now, far from the predicament from the cafe or the traffic beyond. Ken led the way toward the far corner, where a sleek bike rested— its polished surface gleaming under the lights.

“Is that your bike?” you gasped, taking in the sigh that was in front of you.

“Yeah, that’s my ride.” The pride was evident in his voice and his expression, seeing the look on your face.

“It’s beautiful.” The genuine awe in your voice sent a ripple through him.

He didn’t say anything, only gave the bike a fond pat before throwing his leg over it and settling into the seat.

“You up for a quick cruise?”

“You sure?”

“Of course. Have you ever been on one?”

“No….” you admitted sheepishly, your eyes darted to the floor out of shyness. He felt a hint of his male ego spike at that, his eyes roaming at your figure.

“Well,” he said, shifting forward on the seat to give you room. “I guess I’ll be your first ride, then. Hop on— I’ll take care of you.”

You hesitated for a moment, your hands brushing against the cool leather of the seat.

“Have you ever had a woman ride behind you before?” you asked. Ken didn’t miss the flicker of doubt in your voice

His hands tightened on the handlebar, looking back at you. It wasn’t the question that threw him off but the way you asked it.

He recognised the insecurity, the way it slipped out almost against your own will. And it hit him harder than expected.

The idea that you might think he was the type to collect fleeting connections and one night stands stung.

“Of course not.” His voice was steady, stripped of its usual tease. “You’re the only one I’d ever want to give a ride to.

You let out a small, nervous laugh at that. “I guess I’ll be your first, too.”

Ken chuckled, patting the seat behind him. “Damn right you will be.”

He wouldn’t admit it, but making you feel secure in this moment felt more important than anything else.

Ken’s joyrides were something sacred— his personal retreat from the noise and chaos. The familiar rumble of the engine had always been his companion, a constant source of solace.

It wasn’t something shared with anyone. Ever.

But now, as you stood next to the leather seat, it struck him how different this felt. Letting you into this part of his life was like cracking open a private door, one he’d never let anybody step into.

The thrill of it sent a flutter through him, both exhilarating and unnerving.

You finally took your seat behind him, and the shift in weight sent a wave of awareness through him. He swallowed hard when it suddenly hit him how close you were behind him.

Then your arms wrapped tightly around his waist, and he felt his nerves spike. The heat of your fingertips grazed his abdomen sent little sparks of electricity through his body.

It wasn’t fear he was feeling but an intensity he wasn’t prepared for.

He let out a shallow breath as he felt your body pressed even closer. The sight of you behind him in the side mirror was enough to draw in a quick breath.

With a flick of the kill switch, the bike roared to life beneath him. The vibration and the sound broke the stillness, carrying you both out of the car park and into the Tokyo streets at an incredible speed.

The neon glow of the city painted streaks of light across the dark streets, and the hum of the traffic blurred in the background.

It was just you and him with the quiet rhythm of your trust that kept him grounded.

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: @despacito-uwu16 @roserfz27

#★— ayrus writes #coach’s daughter ☆#ultraman fanfic #ultraman: rising #ultraman rising #ultraman #kenji sato x y/n #kenji sato x you #kenji sato x reader #kenji x reader #kenji sato #ken sato x reader #ultraman ken #ken sato #ken sato x y/n #ken sato x you #ken sato ultraman

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littlebeluu · 1 year ago

Note

Hi! Hope you're day is going well :)

If it's okay I'd like to request smth for marc, if not just ignore this haha. I actually have a few ideas but just pick the one you like the most :)

1. It's kinda similar to the one you already wrote I guess but reader being insecure cos shes not as conventionally attractive as other wags, like she's not ugly but she's not a model either yk? Maybe also like people online hating on her body and/or weight and she doesn't wanna make a big deal out of it but marc notices and like reassures her and stuff (also in my head, reader is like a really private person who doesnt like a lot of attention, has her social media accounts on private and doesn't post anything except a handful of stories every now and then but that's obvi just me, doesn't have to be like that)

2. Marc reaching reader catalan (in my mind reader can already speak Spanish but that's not a must obvi)

3. Marc teaching reader football and she's just really bad at it haha idk I think it could be cute

4. Height difference (I'm 5'3 haha so this is really a self insert) like maybe reader wearing his clothes for the first time and they're so adorably oversized on her or like just anything about height difference really :)

You can obviously change stuff about the requests if there's anything you don't feel comfortable with or don't like, I don't mind. Sorry if it's too much stuff at once btw, I'm not really good at writing this kinda stuff.

Thanks so much in advance already, I hope you have an amazing day (or night, depending when you're reading this haha)

I'll do other ones too 🫶🏻

I might have some trouble to do the second one cause I also don't speak catalán but I'll try anyway.

"Insecure"

marc guiu x female reader

warnings: none

The car engine hummed softly as Marc and I settled into our seats after training. Our eyes met in the rearview mirror, and I felt a flutter in my chest. Despite the hours apart, his presence still had that effect on me.

"Hey," Marc greeted, his voice warm but tinged with concern.

"Hey," I responded, trying to muster enthusiasm.

Marc's brow furrowed as he studied my reflection. "Are you okay?"

I nodded, forcing a smile. "Yes."

His eyes narrowed, unconvinced. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," I repeated, my voice barely above a whisper.

Marc sighed, reaching for the radio. As music filled the car, we drove in silence, the tension palpable. Every few minutes, I caught him glancing at me, worry etched on his face.

"I'm fine," I assured him, though the words felt hollow.

"You're lying," he said softly, his voice a mixture of hurt and frustration.

I hesitated, torn between protecting him from my insecurities and the need to be honest. "It's just..."

"Tell me," he encouraged, his tone gentler now.

"Why do you think I'm upset?" I deflected, buying time.

Marc's eyes softened as he looked at me. "I don't know, but I've noticed you haven't really smiled today. Not your genuine smile, anyway."

"Of course I did," I protested weakly.

"No," he shook his head. "I know you better than anyone else. I can tell when you're feeling down, even if you don't say anything."

His words hung in the air as I struggled to find my voice.

"What's wrong, babe?" Marc pressed, his concern evident. "You're going to tell me, or..." He trailed off, leaving the sentence unfinished.

I took a deep breath, feeling tears prick at my eyes. "I'm sorry. It's nothing important."

"It must be something if your smile hasn't been genuine in the past 24 hours."

"Yeah, well..."

"Just say whatever it is," he urged, his voice a mixture of frustration and worry.

"Honestly? People have been saying horrible things about me lately," I admitted, my voice cracking.

Marc's expression darkened. "What? Who?"

"It's okay," I tried to reassure him, wiping away a stray tear. "Really. Just forget about it."

"No," Marc insisted, pulling the car over to the side of the road. He turned to face me fully. "What happened?"

I hesitated, feeling foolish. "It's stupid."

"Just tell me," he pleaded, taking my hand in his.

"Your teammates' girlfriends posted photos with me yesterday," I began, my voice barely audible.

"And?"

"Everyone's saying horrible stuff. Like... like I'm the ugliest and fattest girlfriend."

Marc's face contorted with anger and disbelief. "What? Who's saying this?"

"People online," I mumbled, ashamed of how much it affected me.

"So nobody real?" he asked, his tone softening.

"Well, they could actually exist somewhere," I argued weakly.

"Don't even joke around," Marc frowned. "They don't deserve any importance. You shouldn't read comments under their posts anyway."

I sighed, looking out the window. "I know I shouldn't, but sometimes I can't help it. It's like picking at a scab - you know it's bad for you, but you do it anyway."

Marc's expression softened with understanding. "I get it, but those comments are toxic. They're not worth your time or energy."

"You're right," I admitted, turning back to face him. "I just wish I could stop caring what others think."

Marc reached over and squeezed my hand. "It's not easy, but we'll work on it together. Your worth isn't determined by strangers on the internet."

I took a deep breath, feeling vulnerable. "I guess sometimes those words hurt more than others. Like... maybe I wish I had more confidence. Being known is so overwhelming, and I wish I knew how to get over myself. I guess... I envy the confidence of other girls I meet."

Marc's eyes filled with understanding and love. "You're not ugly nor fat, Y/n. You're beautiful, inside and out."

"I didn't say I was, people said it," I protested weakly.

"But you think it," he said softly, his thumb tracing circles on my hand.

"No," I lied, unable to meet his gaze.

Marc cupped my face gently, forcing me to look at him. "Tell me something, Y/n. When was the last time you read something nice?"

I felt a rush of guilt for worrying him. "Well today, you told me something nice this morning. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to sound like such a baby."

"Stop apologizing," he said firmly. "You're beautiful, and I'm so lucky to be your boyfriend. But more than that, you're kind, intelligent, and strong. Those people online? They don't know you. They don't see how you light up a room, how you make everyone around you feel special."

Tears spilled down my cheeks as Marc's words washed over me. He pulled me into a tight embrace, and I buried my face in his shoulder.

"I love you," he whispered into my hair. "Every part of you. And I promise, we'll work on building your confidence together. You don't have to face this alone”

As we sat there, wrapped in each other's arms, I felt a weight lift from my shoulders. The cruel words of strangers seemed to fade away, replaced by the warmth of Marc's love and support.

"Thank you," I murmured, pulling back to meet his gaze. This time, my smile was genuine.

Marc leaned in, his lips meeting mine in a soft, tender kiss. It was gentle and reassuring, conveying all the love and support he had for me. As we parted, he rested his forehead against mine, our breaths mingling.

I reached up, running my fingers through his hair before pulling him in for another kiss, this one deeper and more passionate. When we finally broke apart, we were both slightly breathless.

Marc started the car again, but before pulling back onto the road, he turned to me with a mischievous grin. "Now, how about we go get some ice cream and plot our revenge on those haters"

I laughed, feeling lighter than I had in days. "Ice cream, yes. Revenge... maybe we'll save that for another day."

As we drove off, hand in hand, I realized that while I couldn't control what others said about me, I could choose to surround myself with love and positivity. And with Marc by my side, I felt ready to face whatever challenges came our way.

Before we reached the ice cream shop, Marc pulled over once more. He cupped my face gently and gave me one last, lingering kiss. "You're beautiful," he murmured against my lips. "Inside and out. Don't ever forget that."

I smiled into the kiss, feeling truly loved and cherished. With Marc's support and these tender moments, I knew I could overcome any insecurity. We drove on, looking forward to our ice cream date, our hands intertwined and hearts full of love.

#marc guiu x reader #marc guiu paz #marc guiu #barça #barcelona #barcelona b #barca atletic #hector fort #pau cubarsi #lamine yamal #gavi #pedri #fermin #fluff

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haine-kleine · 9 months ago

Text

how about a canon divergence where Dabi didn't have to deal with the humiliation of sharing his deepest traumas in an effort to make the general public be more critical of the heroes and wasn't as a result condemned for his sincerity and made a scapegoat not only for the Todoroki family but now for the entire Japan.

let his plan be more refined than traumadumping on tv and don't make him paint a giant target on his own back he will never be able to get rid off by revealing his identity to everyone. let him act according to his knowledge of endeavor and manipulate him, let his plan have an end goal and not be a last desperate scream for sympathy and attention to the horrors he went through.

say, instead of a broadcast he releases a video on an online platform. in that video he starts telling the life story of Todoroki Touya, Endeavor's eldest son who disappeared under mysterious circumstances. he says that ten years ago he found that little boy all alone, crying his eyes out on Sekoto peak. that boy was so pathetically lonely and desperate for validation he told him his entire life story. little Touya was so heartbroken he said that Endeavor abandoned him, didn't want to have a son he couldn't train to become a hero, his quirk and body incompatible, set up from the start by unfortunate quirk marriage. he begged Dabi to kill him. and so he did just that. the oh so fast and efficient number two hero was so slow to the rescue of his own son, by the time he got there only ashes remained of him, and oh how loudly Touya screamed for him...

Dabi has white hair in that video. it's a challenge - one he knows Enji won't take. he knows that his death was a mystery no one has been able to solve, and he presents an answer. it's a lie, of course, but it still hurts seeing how eagerly Endeavor jumps at the offered out. well, at least his little stunt gave even more publicity to the League, propelling him from a nobody of a villain to the one number two hero has personal vendetta with. the attention is nice, really.

when he comes to take the noumu and Endeavor almost kills him on sight, he almost chokes himself on his laughter without any help from his father.

'i will tell you a secret, Endeavor. not even Shigaraki knows this, so consider yourself special', he drawls and points to the noumu's charred remains. 'these things, you know what they're made of? top secret info, right here!'.

he takes his sweet time making a pause for dramatic effect, his insides fluttering at the look of pure hatred on his father's burned, bleeding face.

'the raw material is children with strong quirks. Touya was quite a find, you know!'.

he can't help grinning at how quickly anger transforms into shock.

'he is... alive?' the unbelieving, earnest hope that Enji can't contain despite his caution makes his glee turn sour.

Dabi wants to spread his arms wide, do a twirl, maybe, push his hair away from his face. 'Look at me, Endeavor!' he wants to scream at his father, an ancient unanswered prayer to his idol, 'look at me and see me!'.

the fight in him is gone. he shrugs, and calls for Ujiko.

'dunno', he replies to Enji before leaving. 'far as i know they're still keeping him'.

later, when when a visibly ruffled Shigaraki asks him why is he doing this to himself, Dabi bites on his tongue but can't hide the steam that starts coming out of his seams. he still does a good job of pretending to be unbothered and with all of Compress' flair says:

'why, it's all for the sake of the League's glory, of course'.

Shigaraki, in turn, doesn't even bother hiding his expressive eye roll.

#dabi makes a sadomasochistic social experiment out of his family's inability to recognize him #it's a thrilling mystery plot of resolving touya's death from the todorokis pov #from touya's pov it's a game where he punishes those who don't recognize him (enji)#and rewards the ones who show critical thinking abilities (everyone else)#bnha #boku no hero academia #dabi #todoroki touya #anti endeavor #bnha headcanons

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prakalpanatechnology · 2 years ago

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The Flutter Advantage: Why Modern App Development Should Use It

In the dynamic world of Flutter app development, staying ahead of the curve is essential to success. Flutter, an innovative cross-platform UI framework developed by Google. With its unique features and capabilities, Flutter has quickly gained traction among developers, making it a top choice for modern app development. In this blog post, we’ll explore why Flutter holds the advantage in today’s app development landscape.

Introduction to Flutter

A UI-based tool for developing mobile applications is called Flutter. From a single codebase, it is used to create cross-platform applications for Fuchsia, Android, iOS, Linux, macOS, and Windows. Flutter was introduced in 2015 and launched in May 2017.

Because Flutter is a declarative framework, you describe your desired user interface rather than figuring out how to create it. Because of this, Flutter code is shorter and simpler to maintain.

Additionally, Flutter makes use of a stateful hot reload capability, which allows you to make changes to your code without having to rebuild the app. Because of this, Flutter development is more quicker and more effective.

For more information

Unifying Development with Flutter

Gone are the days of writing separate codebases for iOS and Android apps. Flutter brings the power of unification to app development. By utilizing a single codebase, developers can create apps that seamlessly run on both platforms. This not only reduces development time and resources but also ensures a consistent user experience across devices.

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One of Flutter’s standout features is the “Hot Reload.” This revolutionary tool allows developers to witness instant changes in their code without restarting the app. Think of it as a real-time preview that accelerates the development process. This rapid iteration fosters creativity and experimentation, enabling developers to fine-tune their apps efficiently.

Consistent UI with Widgets

In the realm of app design, maintaining a consistent user interface (UI) is paramount. Flutter achieves this through its widget-based approach. Widgets are the building blocks of Flutter apps, encompassing everything from buttons to complex layouts. These widgets ensure that your app’s design remains consistent across different platforms, reflecting both Material Design for Android and Cupertino for iOS.

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Flutter doesn’t just prioritize aesthetics; it also excels in performance. Flutter apps achieve native performance levels by compiling widgets directly into native ARM code. The Skia graphics engine further enhances the experience, delivering smooth animations and seamless interactions. This blend of beautiful design and high performance sets Flutter apart from the competition.

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Flutter thrives within a robust community of developers, which contributes to its ever-growing ecosystem. With a plethora of packages, libraries, and tools available, developers can enhance their projects and streamline development. This collaborative spirit ensures that Flutter is equipped to tackle a wide range of challenges and scenarios.

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Time is of the essence in app development. Flutter’s efficiency is a game-changer in this regard. By reducing redundant tasks and providing a single codebase, developers can significantly shorten their development timelines. The result? Faster time-to-market for your app, giving you a competitive edge.

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The impact of Flutter is best showcased through real-world examples. Countless successful apps have been developed using Flutter, each benefitting from its inherent advantages. Companies across various industries have harnessed Flutter’s power to create remarkable user experiences and achieve their business goals.

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Choosing a technology for app development requires foresight. Flutter isn’t just a current trend; it’s a technology that’s poised for the future. Google’s commitment to continuous updates and multi-platform support ensures that Flutter will remain relevant and cutting-edge in the evolving app landscape.

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stellaspectral · 11 days ago

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Okok first off all I love your writing omg like fr😭🫶

Second: may I request a tmmt 2012 × nonbinary reader (if you dont do that just do fem reader 😭)

But like Imagine reader being insecure about their body- wanting to work out to feel more comfortable and fit, but too scared to go to a gym, so they ask one day donnie if they could help reader out and then reader starts accompanying the turtles in their training sessions and all that. They actually start to see improvements in their physique and get so happy about it ranting to the turtles about the improvements 😭

A/N: Ah, thank you so much! 🥹

For this, I decided on a non-binary/gender neutral reader. I wasn’t sure how much of a romantic undertone you wanted, so I left things implied and left open for the future. I hope you enjoy it! 💖

The Shape of Belonging (fluff/mild angst)

💚 2012 Turtles/Gender Neutral Reader 💚

CWs: Body image issues including negative self-talk, anxiety, mentions of physical exertion/discomfort (training), and themes of self-acceptance. All characters are aged-up.

You’ve never liked mirrors much.

It’s not that you hate your body exactly, but it feels like there’s a … dissonance. You run your fingers over your arms, your waist, your shoulders. They don’t feel like you. Not quite.

You long to feel capable, to move with a sense of ease, to look in the mirror and not immediately catalogue a list of perceived flaws. You want to feel strong. Despite trying various online workout videos at home, your motivation has always been fleeting. But walking into a gym with fluorescent lights and judgmental stares? Yeah, no thanks.

You’ve been sitting with the discomfort for a while now. It creeps into your thoughts when you’re alone, when you’re scrolling on your phone, when you’re trying to sleep. And finally, after one especially restless night, you swallow your anxiety and head to the lair.

Your friends, the turtles, are always training. Always honing their skills. They move with such power and grace, their bodies honed instruments. Their training is intense, practically a daily ritual for them. And they have a whole dojo. So you go to the only person you trust with the science and the heart to help you figure it out: Donnie.

You find him in his lab, hunched over some contraption, goggles slipping down his nose. You hover near the doorway for a second, fingers twitching at your sides. “Hey, uh, Donnie?” you venture, voice a little shaky.

He looks up from a tangle of wires and circuits before pushing his goggles up. “Oh—hey! What’s up?”

You shift on your feet, hesitating, eyes flicking to the floor. “Um … could I maybe ask you for a favor?”

“Of course,” he replies, turning to give you his full attention. “Everything okay?”

You twist the drawstrings of your hoodie, avoiding his gaze. “It’s something kinda personal. I’ve been thinking about … working out. I’m trying to feel better in my body. But gyms make me anxious.” You look at him, a nervous laugh escaping you, before the words tumble out in a rush. “And I was wondering, since you guys train all the time, if maybe y’all could help me? Or I could join you sometimes? If it’s not too much trouble.”

He blinks, then a slow smile spreads across his face. “Yes, you can train with us. I can help devise a regimen tailored to your current fitness level and goals.” His enthusiasm is a warm wave, washing away some of your immediate fear.

“You mean it?” you ask.

His expression softens in a way that always makes your stomach flutter. “Yeah, of course. You don’t need to go to a gym. We’ve got everything here, and I’d be honored to help you out.” He smiles. “You don’t have to do this alone.”

The relief that hits you is almost overwhelming, and you nod, trying not to tear up.

The next day, you’re in the dojo.

You didn’t expect all four of them to be there, but maybe you should have. Donnie wouldn’t keep something like this from his brothers—not if he thought you’d be joining them. And you’re glad.

They’re all stretching or warming up, and you’re hovering near the edge, unsure. Donnie gestures you over. Leo greets you with a calm nod, his gaze assessing but kind. Raph grunts a quick hello, arms crossed, but his eyes linger on you a little longer than necessary. Mikey bounds over with a grin, beaming so hard it’s impossible not to smile back.

“Just follow my lead,” Donnie says gently. “No pressure. We’ll go slow.”

And so it begins.

Your breathing is ragged five minutes into the warm-up. Even the simplest katas leave your muscles screaming in protest. Your arms shake during planks. You lose balance during basic kicks. You feel clumsy and uncoordinated next to the turtles’ fluid movements. But nobody laughs. Nobody stares.

Donnie is patient, though, constantly adjusting your form, explaining the mechanics of each movement, and offering modifications when something is too difficult. Raph assists with your stance with surprising care, his fingers warm on your shoulders. Leo praises your focus. Mikey makes you laugh between sets, even when you feel like your limbs are going to fall off.

You feel a little out of place, at first. But they make space for you, like you belong there.

And slowly, you start to.

The first few sessions are brutal.

But Donnie walks you through every movement with endless patience. Raph gives you a nod of approval when you push through a tough set. Mikey high-fives you with enthusiasm, like you just won a gold medal and keeps your spirits up with jokes and encouragement. Leo pushes you on discipline and tells you your form is improving every time you come back.

And you do come back. Again and again.

Leo helps you with balance drills. His hands are firm and steady when he corrects your stance, and each brush of his fingers sends a quiet thrill through you. He doesn’t say much, but when you catch his eye, there’s something in his gaze: focused, admiring.

Raph is rougher around the edges. He pushes you a little harder, watches a little closer. But when he sees your arms tremble during push-ups, he’s the one who drops to the mat beside you, doing them in sync. “You ain’t quitting on my watch,” he mutters, but the softness in his tone betrays him.

Mikey cheers you on like you’re an Olympic athlete. Every small win—a longer plank, a more solid kick—he celebrates like it’s the most amazing thing in the world. He brings you water between sets, wipes imaginary sweat off your brow with dramatic flair, and gives you nicknames like Muscle Monarch.

You groan every time, but secretly? You love it. And more than once, his goofy antics make you laugh so hard you forget how tired you are.

Donnie remains your primary guide, meticulously tracking your progress on a datapad he’s designed specifically for your training. At first, it feels embarrassing, the idea of him measuring your effort. But he never makes you feel judged. Instead, he shows you graphs of your increased stamina, your improved strength, the way your resting heart rate has lowered.

Days eventually turn into weeks.

You show up, you sweat, you ache, and sometimes you want to crawl back into bed and never move again. But you don’t. You keep going, fueled by their quiet support and a growing flicker of determination within yourself. Your routine becomes part of their own. You stretch beside them, sweat with them, push yourself a little harder each time.

Donnie builds custom routines for you. Mikey brings you post-workout smoothies he swears have ‘serious chakra-vibes.’ Raph doesn’t say much, but he’s always watching, always ready to jump in if you need help. Leo includes you in the team meditations, sitting close enough that your knees nearly touch.

You’re not imagining the way their attention lingers. You’re not imagining the way your stomach flips, warm and fluttery, when one of them grins at you like you’re the most impressive thing in the room.

Because there are moments, small but electric.

Moments when Donnie catches your eye as you hold a perfect plank, giving you a smile that lingers longer than usual. When Raph presses a water bottle into your hand after a rough set, his fingers brushing yours. When Leo offers to stretch with you, his hands resting at your hips as he adjusts your posture.

And Mikey, who hypes you up with ridiculous compliments before falling uncharacteristically quiet as he watches you flex with pride.

Then it happens.

One morning, you’re pulling on a pair of jeans you haven’t worn in months, bracing for the familiar uncomfortable feeling. Except now, they sit comfortably on you. Not too tight, not digging in. You stare down at yourself, then rush to the mirror in your bathroom—the one you usually avoid.

For once, you don’t feel the urge to look away.

You turn this way and that. Is it your imagination? No. There’s a subtle shift in the line of your shoulders, a new firmness in your arms. You run your hands down your sides, feeling the way your clothes drape differently. A small, tentative smile touches your lips. Later that day, you hoist a heavy box of books you were dreading moving, and it feels manageable. Lighter than you remember.

The real revelation comes during a training session.

Donnie has you doing a circuit he’s designed, and you’re halfway through a set of burpees—an exercise you used to despise with the fire of a thousand suns—when you realize you’re not gasping for air and you’re easily keeping pace. You finish the set, a little breathless, yes. But not utterly defeated. You look down at your hands, flexing your fingers, a grin spreading across your face.

As you towel off, you can no longer hold it in.

“You guys, you will not believe this!” you blurt, bouncing on the balls of your feet.

They all look up, intrigued by your sudden outburst.

Concern flickers over Donnie’s face. “What is it? Are you hurt?”

“No! Nothing like that.” You’re already waving your hands, grinning so hard your cheeks hurt. “I saw myself in the mirror and I look different. Like my arms? There’s actual definition. And my posture isn’t slouched and weird anymore! And I think I can finally do those side planks without toppling like a sad noodle!”

Mikey lets out a whoop so loud it echoes through the dojo. “YESSS! That’s what I’m TALKIN’ about!” He practically tackles you in a hug, nearly knocking you off your feet.

You laugh, half out of joy and half because Mikey is squeezing the air out of you. “Mikey—air—lungs—”

“Oh, sorry!” He lets go, only to hold you at arm’s length and give you a full once-over. “Wow, check you out, Superstar!”

You feel your face heat at the nickname; something about the way he says it now makes your heart trip over itself. “It’s not that big a deal,” you mumble, rubbing the back of your neck.

“It is a big deal,” Donnie says, walking over, towel slung around his neck. His eyes are warm, proud. “You’ve been consistent. You’ve worked hard. That’s what matters. Not just the physical change, but the fact that you made it happen.”

You glance down at your shoes, but his words hit something soft inside you. Your chest tightens. Not in a bad way, but in that weird, overwhelming emotional way that makes your throat feel thick.

Raph saunters over next, arms crossed, looking a little more earnest than usual. “You should be proud,” he says. “You earned every bit of it.” Then, with a crooked smirk, he adds, “Knew you had it in you.”

You catch Leo’s gaze just over Raph’s shoulder. He hasn’t said anything yet, just watches you with that quiet, focused intensity of his. The look sends a little zing through your spine.

Finally, he walks over. “You’ve changed,” he says simply, voice low. “Not just your body. Your energy. You move with more confidence. You look like you believe in yourself now.”

You blink. Of all the things he could’ve said, that hits the hardest. You feel seen—not just in the mirror.

But by them.

You huff out a laugh, trying to shake the sudden wave of emotion. “Okay, okay, you’re all gonna make me cry.”

Beside you, Donnie chuckles and gently bumps his knuckles against your arm. “Don’t worry, tears are not known to reverse muscle growth.”

Mikey throws an arm around your shoulder. “We gotta celebrate! Post-workout victory pizza time!”

“Actually,” you say, looking around at them, “I think this is the celebration. Being here with you guys, feeling like … I belong.”

“You do belong,” Leo says, voice steady. “You always have.”

You feel your throat tighten. You don’t have the words for how grateful you are—for the space, the support, the strength they’ve given you. Because for the first time in a long time, you feel at home in your body. Not because it’s perfect. Because it’s yours, and you’re reclaiming it.

And you’re not doing it alone.

They made room for you—and maybe there’s also room for something more too, tucked between sweat and shared smiles. Between glances that linger too long. There’s the possibility that this bond between you and them could grow into something deeper.

But for now?

You grab Mikey’s hand and pull him toward the kitchen, laughing as he cheers. Donnie follows close behind, muttering something about adjusting your macros. Raph nudges your shoulder as he catches up and hurries ahead. And Leo walks beside you, close enough that his arm brushes yours. You see their faces, their expressions open in a way you’ve never seen before.

You’re not just growing into your body. You’re growing into yourself. And they see it. They see you.

And they’re falling for the person you’re becoming, the person you’re meant to be.

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artssslut2 · 11 months ago

Text

Unexpected: Part Five

Stanford!Art x Pregnant!Reader

Summary: You and Art find out the gender of your baby… and some other news.

You were 20 weeks pregnant now with your best friend Art Donaldsons baby, well now he was your boyfriend. Things were going well, you loved living at his families beach house, it really wasn’t so bad. After Art was done with tennis for the day and you were off work you would spend your evenings at the beach relaxing. Art was loving all your hormones because they usually made you want to fuck him three times a day. He was exhausted from it but didn’t mind. It felt like you were teenagers again, you’d sneak off from friends or do it in public. Everything was fitting into place now that you and Art had faced your feelings for each other. He would remind you one hindered times a day of how much he loved you. You and Art were waiting for the baby to kick, impatiently. Art wanted to be surprised with the gender he thought it would be fun. You agreed but now had second thoughts.

You laid in bed at night with your boyfriends head laying on your chest like a puppy and his hand over your little bump. A show played mindlessly in the background, you could feel art drifting to sleep. You couldn’t hold back your anxiety anymore you had to talk to him,

“Art?” You said quietly, Art shot his head up right away being pulled from his light slumber

“Yeah, what is it babe, do you need something?” He asked his eyes still closed. You giggled to yourself and brought a hand up to brush his curls away from his face

“No no, I just… I don’t think we should wait to find out the gender.” You said quickly trying to be cool about it but failing. Art didn’t say anything he just fluttered his eyes open. You held your breath, you thought he was going to be heartbroken over it for some reason

“Okay.” Is all he replied casually

“W-What are you sure?” You hesitated surprised at his response,

“If that’s what you want babe. Let’s find out tomorrow… is that it?” He said yawning, you chuckled at his response with relief.

“Yeah that’s all.” You smiled guiding his head back to your chest. You continued petting his hair and scratching his bare back. You smiled to yourself in contentment. You thought about how you once stuffed all feelings down for your best friend and couldn’t imagine this ever working out. Now here you were in bed together on a random Tuesday with a baby on the way. It almost made you tear up but that was just hormones.

You woke up to an empty bed, Art had left for his training. Over the summer you were packing in as many online classes as you could so you could hopefully graduate early. Whenever you could you would pick up CNA shifts wherever they were needed.

You walked into the kitchen to get something to eat before starting your classes for the day. You spotted a small note on the fridge.

“Sunny’s Bakery is delivering a cake at 2 with the gender inside. Love you. Order breakfast and put it on my card” it was arts slightly sloppy handwriting with a little heart at the bottom. You couldn’t hold back the hormone tears falling down your face at the thought of Art doing all that at the last minute for you. Now you were full on crying because you missed your boyfriend, which was silly of course. You had never been the clingy type but pregnancy you was a whole different you. You wanted to be inside Arts skin, if he would even leave the room and not tell you where he was going you would feel so sad. Art loved that you were acting more clingy because he is naturally clingy all the time.

You had worked through your latest mood swing and got ready for the day then got to work on your classes. You were so excited, you could hardly wait. Art finally got home a little after three, the cake sat on the kitchen counter untouched.

“Baby let’s do it right now!” You squealed jumping into his arms. Art laughed and set his bag down and grabbed you.

“Okay let me just shower quickly.” He told you, still all sweaty from practice. You frowned

“Artttt, I can’t wait anymore” you pouted looking at him with big eyes, Art kissed your forehead quickly then pulled away

“I’ll be five minutes. Promise.” Art told you while he went to the bathroom. You groaned out loud and flopped onto the couch.

Sure enough Art had been in the bathroom longer than five minutes, you got up to see where he was. You jiggled the bathroom door handle but it was locked

“Art? What’s taking so long…. And why is the door locked?” You shouted over the running water. He never locked the door in case you wanted to join him.

“Sorry babe I’ll be out in two seconds!” He said frantically. That was weird you thought but you let it go. Little did you know that art was trying to wrap a present for you but wasn’t doing too well because this was the first present he’s ever wrapped.

Finally Art was finished in the bathroom and came out into the kitchen with his hair still slightly damp. He kissed you and you could smell his minty soap and shampoo.

“Ready?” He smiled, he already knew the answer, you nodded eagerly and art chuckled. You got two glasses out, you and Art were both going to press down into the cake with them and lift them up to see if it was pink or blue inside. It was a sweet little intimate moment because you weren’t a fan of big parties.

“What do you think it is?” You asked him,

“I think it’s a girl.” He answered unsure of himself,

“Why?” You asked, you also thought it was but weren’t sure why,

“I don’t know I guess I’ve just kind of pictured a little girl running around. But either one is gonna be perfect.” He told you putting a hand on your stomach.

“Me too.” You said putting a hand over his.

“Let’s do this then” he said getting impatient, you both grabbed a glass

“Okay now don’t look, we will go on three” you instructed pushing his face in the opposite direction of the cake. He had a huge smile on his face the whole time. You looked at him for a minute, with love In your eyes and thought to yourself how much you loved him.

“1…2…3!” You counted together. You looked into each others eyes while you pushed into the cake.

“Okay now look” you giggled, you both looked and saw the color

“Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh!” You yelled with. Very shocked look on your face, you looked at Art who was in total shock.

“Y/N! I can’t believe it!” He said with tears in his eyes, he pulled you into him and his face buried in your shoulder as you squealed with excitement, you couldn’t believe it either.

“We’re having a girl art! A daughter.” You cried holding his face to yours, art had tears streaming down his face, “baby are you okay?” You giggled kissing his tears,

“Of course, I just- I’m-… I’ve never been this happy. I can’t believe that we’re having a baby. A baby girl” he cried while smiling, tears fell on your face too

“I know baby me too. I wouldn’t change a thing.” Saying this meant a lot to him because sometimes art wondered if you would rather have things the old way.

“I love you so much y/n y/l/n” he kissed your forehead then he bent down and kissed your belly. “You too little girl” he whispered then he stood up and pulled something out of his back pocket. “I got you something” he said handing you a small wrapped box. You opened you mouth in surprise. You smiled at him then opened it eagerly. You pulled a Tiffany’s jewelry box out then opened it. It was a necklace a gold necklace with a diamond heart. You gasped seeing it, it looked incredibly expensive but of course you didn’t care about that. “Art.” You spoke in a gasp, he was smiling from ear to ear

“Take it out” he smiled, you carefully lifted it up and saw something engraved on the back, you looked and saw “♾️ & beyond” in tiny print. It was a reference to you and Arts favorite movie as kids, Toy Story. Tears prickled your eyes again and you looked up and him,

“I just wanted to thank you for giving me the best gift in the world” he told you “But I’ll be thanking you for the rest of my life.” You were full on crying now,

“Art you can’t do this to me when I’m so hormonal” you sobbed into his chest and he laughed, stroking your hair. He took the necklace from you and put it on you. You kissed him with passion. You and Arts hands fell to your bump.

“We’re gonna have a little girl” you told him smiling. He looked over to the empty cake box with the label on it “Sunny’s Bakery”

“You know… Sunny is kind of a cute name” he smirked

“No way.” You laughed, as you shook your head then Arts phone rang. It was his coach so he stepped out to answer. You licked frosting off your finger and thought about the name Sunny. Maybe it was kind of cute you thought to yourself.

Art came back into the room but didn’t look thrilled, he had a weird look on his face.

“Whats wrong, what did he say” you asked walking over to him. Art paused and took a breath,

“He said I’m going on tour next month.” Both of your faces dropped.

#art donaldson #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson x you #challengers fic #patrick zweig #art donaldson fluff #tashi duncan #challangers #make first x reader #art #mike faist

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rat-king-writes · 1 year ago

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Hi I was wondering if you could do some head canons for Cassidy? Where is his s/o is a big gamer and they introduce him to red dead redemption 2. (Not sure if you know the game or not) I can image Cassidy getting really attached to Arthur and hating on Micah. I can also see them playing the online to get her and Cassidy is just enjoying the scenery and then they turn around to see their s/o getting dragged around by another player.

If you don’t want to write about this it’s totally fine but if you do thank you in advance!

Thank you for the ask , I tried by best .

Synopsis ; You are a huge , HUGE gamer . However your boyfriend , Cassidy , isn't as in tune with the digital world. So you introduce him to a game that you think he will like . ( Red Dead Redemption 2 )

Cassidy isn't big on games, sure he likes watching you play them, (He just likes watching you do whatever) but he can never seem to win or even understand the concepts of a controller in his hand. The buttons are too confusing, and because you're a huge game nerd, you have multiple consoles with different controllers with different settings and oh my gosh he doesn't get it. How do you memorize all the different buttons, the moves, the characters? He's in awe when you play.

Usually, it would be you on the floor with some type of game projected onto your tv, and Cassidy’s head in your lap while you focus on your game. Occasionally Cassidy would ask you a question about it, but he generally just stayed pretty quiet and admired the screen, and you. That is how it usually went. Until you pulled out a new game, a game you had bought with the intention to show Cole. It’s something you had heard about before, but never really got into. Until you learned there was a multiplayer option.

You hadn’t told Cole about it yet, leading the day as any normal one with your boyfriend following you around like usual. When you loaded up Red Dead Redemption 2, you could already see the glint in Cassidy’s eyes as he sat next to you. You smile, already knowing your plan would work. You started as normally, eyes trained on the game as it played out in front of you. Cassidy was absolutely enthralled and would ask you many many questions about who was who, the premise, etc. He was just so happy to see multiple cowfolk in the media.

He seemed to really relate to and enjoy Arthur. But he absolutely despised Micah, and even booed when the man would appear on screen. He gave his opinions on other characters too, relating Sadie to someone he used to be friends with, and saying you reminded him of Charles. It was cute how he would get excited when you booted up the game. And you absolutely loved it too, the game was quite fun. And seeing how Cole liked it, made it a even better experience.

It got even better when the next day you had set up an extra tv, controller, and of course another copy of Read Dead 2. Of course you had paid the online service fee for both of you, something Cole will never know, leds he lecture you on spending money on him. But how could you not? The way his eyes lit up, voice carrying a happy tilt to it. It made your heart flutter, and now that you could play with him things would be even better.When Cassidy got to your home you greeted him with a hug and a kiss before eagerly leading him to your shared room.

He was confused at your sudden excitement, but smiled along with you as you practically dragged him. His confusion grew even more as his eyes set onto the extra tv setup. Though judging by your extremely large smile and you ushering him to sit down, he wasn’t too worried. You explain to him your plan, fidgeting nervously with your own controller as you tell him you want to try the online feature with him. He accepts almost immediately, though you have to spend some time getting him used to the controls.

The online wasn't that busy thankfully, and you and Cassidy would ride horses side by side and go sightseeing. You would look over at him and just watch him play and interact with the horses. It melted your heart how he would verbally hush the fake horse after accidentally hitting it. He was so kind, and so silly it made your heart swell. Other players would come up to you both, often riding alongside or causing some type of trouble, but it was primarily civil.

One afternoon, Cole and you sat down to play some online as you usually do, however you wanted to show him the lavender fields in Big Valley. Something you knew he would adore. The ride there had you both chatting idly, mainly about Cole's line of work in overwatch. It was going well, and as you two approached the beautiful scenery you couldn't help but smile at Cole. It seemed stupid, getting happy over a game, but seeing how happy your boyfriend looked just made you giddy.

Unbeknownst to you, and to Cole, a player had run up to you with their lasso out, snagging you and just dragging you around the land. Once you had caught notice of this, you let out a burst of laughter. This prompts Cole to look over as well, and the sight of you getting dragged causes him to let out his own hearty laugh too. He chases the player around, vowing to free you from your silly predicament. And he does, fairly easily. The other player finally leaves, leaving you two alone to look at the scenery. And just like you had predicted, Cole loves it.

Playing Read Dead became a sort of pastime for you both, something to do to relax and wind down. Of course Cole would be content watching you play the story mode, and sometimes he would prefer to. But all that you cared about was him having fun, and you achieved that goal.

#overwatch x reader #x male reader #overwatch x male reader #cole cassidy x male reader #cole cassidy x reader #cole cassidy

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chaos-chloe · 7 days ago

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Sleep Walker

Summary: Drunk Lethal makes you talkative, loose lip style.

TW: Friends to lover. drunk confessions, alcohol/wine

inspo: Sleep Walker by Akiaura, LONOWN, and STM

The glow of my monitor illuminated the chaotic scene on my screen – a jumbled mess of alien architecture, the corpse of a loot bug, and the hulking form of my teammate, now also deceased, courtesy of a poorly timed landmine. Above it all, in a smaller window, was Droid's calm, collected face. He was streaming, of course, and I was lurking in his Discord call, ostensibly to play Lethal Company, but mostly just to be near him.

"Alright chat," Droid said, his voice a smooth baritone that always sent a shiver down my spine, "Guess we're going back to the Company. Brutal. But hey, at least we got some scrap."

I mumbled something unintelligible, trying to contribute to the conversation and failing miserably. The "hydrated" session of Lethal Company – code for a few too many glasses of wine – was definitely taking its toll. I was aware I was being louder than usual, more… talkative.

For a few minutes, we were all silent, concentrating on the excruciatingly slow and terrifying trek back to the ship. The silence was comfortable, almost intimate, punctuated only by the whirring of the ship and the occasional panicked scream from another player. But the alcohol, combined with my long-held, carefully concealed feelings for Droid, was a dangerous cocktail.

And then, it just… slipped out.

"I freeze up when I'm near you," I blurted, the words tumbling from my lips like a runaway train. "I usually forget the words that I need you to hear."

I punctuated the word "need" with all the emphasis I could muster, hoping, praying, that he would understand the undercurrents, the unspoken desires swirling beneath the surface of my rambling. My vision swam, the colors of the game blurring into an impressionistic mess. I squeezed my eyes shut, mortified by my sudden confession.

The silence in the Discord call stretched, thick and heavy. I could practically feel the eyes of Droid's chat boring into me. My brain was a frantic hamster wheel, churning out possible escape routes, all of them involving disappearing from the face of the earth.

"Okay," I stammered, my voice thick with panic, "Okay, I uh… I think I need to go. Goodnight, everyone. Goodnight, Droid."

I practically slammed the disconnect button, severing the connection before I could hear any reaction, any judgment, any… well, anything. I collapsed back in my chair, face burning, and braced myself for the inevitable wave of regret.

Sleep, thankfully, came eventually, though it was fitful and filled with mortifying replays of my drunken confession.

I woke the next morning with a pounding headache and a stomach churning with anxiety. My phone buzzed on the nightstand. Groaning, I reached for it, half expecting a torrent of online jeers and "I knew it!" proclamations.

Instead, there was a text message from Droid.

Hey. Last night was… interesting. Breakfast date needed. My place? 10 am? We need to talk about what you said. ;)

My heart leaped into my throat. Breakfast date. With Droid. To talk about this.

A nervous flutter of excitement replaced the initial panic. He hadn't immediately rejected me. He wanted to talk.

A surge of hope, fragile but insistent, bloomed inside me. Maybe, just maybe, this disastrously drunken confession wouldn’t be the end of everything. Maybe, this could be the beginning.

I quickly replied.

10 am sounds perfect. But you're making the coffee. I'm blaming you for my headache

I hit send, a small smile tugging at the corner of my lips.

The day ahead was terrifying, daunting, and potentially life-altering. But for the first time in a long time, I felt a flicker of genuine hope. Maybe, just maybe, I wouldn’t freeze up this time. Maybe, this time, I could finally say the words that I needed him to hear. And maybe, just maybe, he felt the same way.

#frouse #fanfic #frog house #twitch streamer x reader #youtuber x reader #clooless #elasticdroid #elasticdroid x reader #elastic droid x reader #clooless podcast

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bellewintersroe · 2 years ago

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Charles Leclerc x SchumacherDaughter!

Lila is the youngest of the 3 Schumacher siblings, at 22 shes catching the attention of the public eye. With the new found popularity through Drive to Survive, social media has dubbed her the next ‘it’ girl despite her constant desire for privacy. When her love interest becomes more or less the most sought after man in F1, how will she cope with being the internets fascination? Both Charles and Lila have dealt with immense amounts of loss and trauma, so their mutual understanding for one another fuels their so called ‘friendship’.

Part 2 - no warnings! Filler chapter, slow burn/ start but will start to pick up soon.

From the first time I’d met Charles I knew I’d developed feelings almost instantly. I had always been the the type of girl who caught feelings quickly. Maybe that was a recipe for disaster, wearing my heart on my sleeve, but there wasn’t a single fibre of my body that could prevent it. Not being around the boy was helpful, but the one thing that fuelled the crush even further? Social media, of course.

I had always been private online. All my accounts were locked and I’d never planned on making them public out of the pure fear of gaining too much unwanted attention. That didn’t mean I couldn’t do a stalk however…

I’d find myself laying in bed until stupid hours in the morning for the following week after the Monaco GP, scrolling mindlessly through my searches. The majority of them were amusing- I didn’t seem to worry too much about gaining a hate train online, of course the trolls were there, but keeping as far out of the public eye as possible meant I was semi protected. User: Lila Schumacher sparks relationship rumours with Mercedes driver George Russell, despite him already being in a long term relationship with Carmen Montero Mundt.

I laughed at that one and all the responses telling the reporter to shut the hell up.

User: Charles today with Mick and Lila Schumacher. User: Lila Schumacher makes a rare appearance at the Monaco GP, 28.5.23. User: Lila Schumacher is so beautiful, like her mum, why don’t we see more of her? User: can anybody else see Lila Schumacher being with one of the drivers? Shes so gorgeous I wouldn’t be surprised. ——— > User: she looked to be talking with Charles, he looked v into her so maybe? ——— > User: no not Charles surely? I was thinking she’d be more with somebody like George or Lando.

——— > User: Lila and Charles Leclerc were talking at the Monaco GP, doesn’t mean they’re together but I’d DIE if he looked at me the way he looked at Lila- that’s all I’m saying…

I exited the app after that, deciding I’d read enough, I knew it was stupid to do, but part of me couldn’t help myself. I’d always been a nosy person. So when Mick invited me to come to the Spanish GP, I accepted his offer (much to his surprise). “You’re from Spain? Which part?” I asked Carlos Sainz, whom I’d engaged in a conversation with whilst attempting to find the Ferrari garages before the qualifying. He asked if I wanted leading back to Mercedes but I was trying to find Jean Todt, my God father and dads longtime close friend, so I got a tour from Mr Sainz instead. “Madrid, have you been?”

“Oh yeah, it’s beautiful there, I’ve been a few times…” my eyes glanced up from the floor, gaze landing heavily on the other Ferrari driver now stood in front of me. My breath hitched seeing the surprised looking boy.

“Lila! Hello!” Charles exclaimed, the exact same heart flutter I felt the other week in Monaco had returned. “Hi!” For some reason I was surprised he’d remembered my name, hearing him say it made me feel certain ways. He moved forwards, giving me a quick hug as I clamped my teeth down on my bottom lip so I wouldn’t grin so harshly. “How are you?” I asked. “I am good, I’m good. And you?” Charles was pink in the cheeks, brown eyes practically sparkling in the Spanish sun. He looked like Prince Charming or something out of a fairy tail, I found him intoxicating.

“Good, thank you.” I breathlessly spoke, “you have met Carlotto?” He then grinned as I snapped my attention back up to Carlos with a slight furrow of my brows. “Carlotto?”

“Lord Perceval.” I giggled out at the name now, turning back to Charles who was staring right back to Carlos with a wide eyed expression. “Lord Perceval? Is that a nickname, or?”

“No, no, no!” Charles laughed. “That’s my.. um that’s my middle name. Perceval.” Charles explained as I felt my cheeks beating up, hearing Carlos too giggling along. “Oh!” I exclaimed. “How posh.” I shrugged as he laughed slightly back to me with an uneasy, “yeah.”

“I better go find Jean anyway, has anybody seen him?”

“Oh, Jean? He’s in that way.” Charles pointed towards three different doors. I frowned in confusion. “Charles, show her, your directions are bad.” Carlos pointed out as I giggled nervously.

“It’s okay, I’ll try find him.”

“No, no, I’ll show you.” Charles insisted as I bit back a smile. “Thanks for getting me here anyway.” I thanked Carlos. “It’s ok.” The Spanish man politely smiled. “Chiedile un appuntamento.” Carlos then spoke to Charles as I glanced away, no clue what the hell they were speaking. Italian maybe? It wasn’t French and definitely wasn’t Spanish. When I did look up, Charles was staring back at Carlos wide eyes in a manner as though to say, shut the hell up. I pretended not to notice as Carlos giggled, patting me on the upper back before I began following Charles.

“I think he should be this way. I could be wrong.” Charles stumbled forwards, turning over his shoulder as I caught up besides him. “It’s okay, I don’t need him urgently, I just wanted to say hi.” And say hello to you.

“He is your god father, right?” Charles questioned as I nodded. “Yeah, he’s my dads friend.”

“Ah.” Charles nodded, and for a brief few seconds, I felt a little awkward. I was lost for words, dwelling in my nerves that had appeared now I was semi alone with Charles.

“I think I saw you earlier.” Charles then pointed out. “Oh yeah? Where?”

“Playing tennis at the hotel, I think it was you there? You looked good- at playing tennis I mean, but you did look good as well, merde, it might not have been you.” Charles stammered as I felt myself becoming somewhat breathless again, when he was nervous I felt this warm rush of excitement run through me, but it somehow made me feel nervous too. His compliment made me laugh, realising exactly what he was talking about.

“Yeah that was me, I was playing with another girl?” I tilted my head to look at the smiling boy. I hadn’t seen his smile falter once since seeing him again, I enjoyed the way it would lift up his eyes, the dimples forming in his cheeks and the way his teeth would poke through every now and then.

“Ah, yes it was you.” Charles shyly spoke. “Yeah, I’m not very good. I just like playing.” I grabbed at my blonde hair nervously. “I play too, I am bad.” Charles laughed out. “I’m sure you’re not that bad!” He responded with an uneasy noise.

“I just think you would beat me.” The fact he had noticed me earlier this morning had made me go all red in the face, I felt all giggly and weak in the knees.

“No way, I’m really bad. Trust me, I just play for fun.” I bashfully spoke, thanking him quickly as he opened the door for me. Jean wasn’t in sight ahead of me, so it gave me a little more time with Charles which I was thankful for.

“Me too.” He grinned as I offered him a smile in response, turning to my left to see Jean not too far ahead, sitting down and mid conversation. “Oh, there he is! Thank you for showing me around, I’d be lost without you and Carlos.” I joked, pausing to stand directly across from him now. “It’s ok, it gets confusing in here.” He shrugged as I nodded, going to turn around. “It was nice to see to see you again.” He quickly spoke, causing me to halt my movements and turn up once again. There was a slight height difference between us, I only stood at 5”3, and he was nearing 6 foot, I guessed?

“Yeah you too, if you see me playing tennis again feel free to say hi.” I giggled, shrugging nervously. “I will.” Charles laughed as I timidly broke eye contact, turning to go find Jean. “Oh!” Charles exclaimed again. I turned around.

“I was- we could play tennis maybe? If you would like to?” His words made my heart literally jump and I swear he could see the way my smile tugged up. I was nodding before I even replied, borderline too stunned and shy to speak.

“As long as you let me win you.” I managed to blurt out as he laughed once again, pulling out his phone. “I can probably do that… well you could do that.” He corrected, unlocking his phone and clicking on his phone book.

“Oh.” I perked, pulling out my phone, ensuring to clear any embarrassing messages from my notifications before allowing him to type his number in. It felt like a fever dream, no man had asked for my number before, it was always Snapchat or Instagram first- it felt slightly more… personal? I liked it.

“I will text you.” Charles nodded. “Okay, see you soon, Charles.”

“Bye, Lila…”

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc

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sparatus · 6 months ago

Note

👀

send me a 👀 and i’ll post a snippet of art/writing that i never got around to finishing this year

so my plan for not-affiliated-with-certain-orgs nanowrimo this year had been a post-itlog novella feat. garrus and feron in no-reapers au lair of the shadow broker but then life kinda. hit me in the face with a whole freight train so it dropped off but i do still want to pick it up again cause im invested in the story, it adds plot stuff for exdiff but also it deals with garrus's trauma and depression after omega and how he finds his drive in life again. and also furthers my garrus/tasora propaganda and includes feron and tazzik and quentius + nautilea and their mildly feral xenoarchaeologist daughter

it also gets into my hc that after The Rocket Thing garrus is rendered mostly blind on his right side and reduced hearing so here's some of the first chapter that includes that

Whoever had decided that omni-tools needed to default to yellow text on orange holo, with low contrast and a tiny font size, deserved to be shot.

Solana had been the one to help Garrus find the display settings and figure out what would let him actually read. High contrast, large font size, yellow text on blue holo, and a button in the corner to turn on a screen reader that never moved so he didn’t have to hunt for it. He didn’t ask, not wanting to run the risk of a lecture and more shame over his actions than he already gave himself, but Sol was always the smart one. She let him have the courtesy of not calling him out in front of anyone, too, just waited until they were alone in the spaceport waiting for their shuttle to Palaven for Solstice while Tasora was in the restroom, slid a seat over, and asked if she could show him some tricks she’d found in the settings to customize the display.

She never once said the word blind. He didn’t even know if she knew yet, not right then. By the time Tasora got back, he could read his own notifs again, and they were watching dumb extranet vids on it like nothing had happened at all. He let her pick the toppings on their cheap spaceport pizza lunch in quiet thanks.

Staring at the screen now, though, reading felt just as impossible as before. The old Normandy group chat from over a year ago had randomly come back to life early that morning, Torres popping in to say he would be on the station again soon and would love to meet up with anybody still there, and it had been buzzing periodically ever since as other crew in other time zones woke up, saw the chat, and got excited with the rest. Kaidan was stationed on a training base down in Zakera, Ashley was doing a guard rotation at the embassies, Haugen and Isotalo were here, Khulozai was there. In the past hour, maybe fifteen more messages had popped in as people got off work or woke up for the day or took a convenient break to see why their ’tool was buzzing so much.

His gizzard rolled over on itself. The message bubbles scrolled past in a vague mass of shapes. Seeing, but not reading. If any of them had noticed he was online but not speaking, none of them had said.

He fluttered his mandibles and forced himself to tab back to his home screen. It was the end of the work day in the turian embassy, and Tasora would fuss if she came out of her office to him having a pity party. She didn’t need to be fussing over him, not right now. He could be a big boy and ignore it.

He fluttered his mandibles and instinctively started to look around, only for the blurry shadows that made up most of the right side of his field of view to make him dizzy, so he had to stop and remember to scent the air instead. The rocket hadn’t damaged anything in his nose, at least. He’d managed to learn the scents of a fair number of the embassy team in the past few weeks, and they'd started recognizing him, too, and said hello to him on the days he came in to pry Tasora away from her work on time. There was Auggie, of course, rocketing around collecting last-minute notes and reports and whatever else the councilor's assistant was responsible for at the end of the day. Ambassadors Orinia and Treninius were loitering outside the latter’s office; a turn of his head so he could look with his good eye confirmed they were chatting as they got their cloaks on. A mess of scents he only barely recognized was milling about by the door to the lawyers’ suite. Old Ambassador Itatumus was approaching on his bad side, and gave him the courtesy of a click-whistle to announce his presence before Garrus turned his head.

A door at the other end of the lobby, just before the doors to the big office and the Blackwatch soldiers bristling with guns guarding it, chimed a warning, and he turned his head just as his nasal plates tingled with bourbon and salt.

The whole lobby seemed to suck in a breath as Ambassador Quentius strode out of his office, mandibles set and crest slightly raised like a man on a mission. Orinia and Treninius stepped further out of the walkway, Auggie paused to look where the embassy’s resident giant was going, the lawyers fell to a buzzing hush. Garrus lifted his head, fluttering his good mandible in curiosity, but not too much, not wanting to draw attention to himself.

Red-orange eyes snapped to him, and he tried not to wince. “Oh, good, you are here,” Quentius huffed, taking a few more long strides before stopping not too far from the couch Garrus had parked himself on. “If you can convince her to go home within the next half-hour and without causing any more fusses, I’ll send you a few fish.”

Garrus blinked, fighting the urge to shrink back into the cushions. Quentius had been a major in the Imperial Army, and carried himself as such, and it had been all too obvious the first few times Garrus had dropped in on the embassy after the disastrous anniversary gala at the end of last year. He didn’t think tensions between the embassies had ever been higher; following the funeral, he’d seen more talons left ungloved, unbooted, and filed sharp around the Citadel than a younger him would have thought legal. Tasora had told him nobody saw the councilor very much at all outside him arriving in the morning and departing several hours late each day, embroiled as he was in calls and conferences with various Imperial leaders trying to decide what to do about the rot in their midst, and there were some days where you could go an entire day without even realizing the old man was there. That had been half of why Garrus started coming up at the end of the day to walk out with her, a nagging fear in the back of his head that if he let her out of his sight for too long, something terrible would happen.

His therapist had said that was the PTSD talking, and they’d work on it. He’d told him he’d feel better in a Palaven month, and then he wouldn’t have to go anywhere anyway, just stay home and protect the nest. This was also apparently not a normal thing to say.

#press conference #onedismay #ierian's writing #exdiff #i have this whole fic outlined and everything i just. yknow. life and everything

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