#Open center vase shape

[revasserium]

hiii can i pls request zayne with prompt 60 “home”? also love ur writing btw and i look forward to reading more of ur works <333

send me one + a character and i'll write u a drabble

60. home

zayne; 2,264 words; fluff, fem!reader, no "y/n", whipped!zayne, implied sex, fade to black, zayne being a simp as per usual

summary: a friday afternoon

a/n: idk i just love writing dialogue for zayne he's so !!!!

The Hospital - Friday, 4:36PM

Linoleum floors and fluorescent lights; the smell of antiseptic, the rhythmic beeps and hums of heart rate monitors and nebulizer machines. He spends too much time here, knows the flow of the hospital like he knows the web of arteries and capillaries in the human body, the wards branching off of each other, the hustle and bustles of nurses and staff familiar, oppressive.

It is only in the quiet of his own office, with its big windows and even bigger piles of paperwork (be it virtual or physical), that he ever allows himself to relax. He glances at the vase of brightly colored tulips on his desk and allows himself a grin. He remembers the shape of you, can feel the weight of your hand in his as you’d tugged him around the farmer’s market on Sunday morning, pointing at the various vendors, asking to try a bite of this and a bit of that, until finally, you’d come across the flower seller — a middle-aged woman with a sweet smile and a gleeful glint in her eyes as she explained about the language of flowers.

“There’s sunshine in your smile,” you’d repeated, looking down at the yellow tulips before grinning up at Zayne.

“Perfect for you, isn’t it?”

He could hear the tease in your voice, see that familiar playful twinkle in your eyes and he’d raised an eyebrow before wordlessly handing over a few bills from his wallet.

And now the flowers sit, quiet save for all their brilliance, on his desk, in a simple vase filled with crystal-clear water. He stares at it for a second longer before pulling out his phone and swiping it open to your contact.

Coming home early today, he texts. Immediately, a typing bubble appears, and a second later, a short shoomp sound as your reply appears on his screen —

oh? dr. zayne leaving work early??? is the sun setting in the east today?

He chuckles to himself before dialing your line and a second later, your voice answers, a little hesitant.

“Hello?”

“If you’re going to be sarcastic, at least do it in person.”

Shuffling noises, and then — “Not my fault you’re never around for me to be mean to you in person.”

Zayne leans back in his chair with a sigh, “Hn. How’s shopping with Tara?”

“Fun! But my legs are getting tired…”

“I can meet you at the main shopping center around 5:30.”

A moment of quiet, and then “Ah… but that’s still an hour from now…”

Zayne scoffs, “I could stay till 7PM like I usually do —”

“No, no! That’s… that’s not what I meant — I’ll see you at 5:30, then? Don’t be late!”

You end the call before he can protest and for a second, Zayne stares at the screen, the picture of your smiling face fading after another few seconds as the phone screen darkens.

“Doctor? Your next patient is here,” the nurse calls through his closed door.

“Yes, I’ll be right there.” Zayne glances once more at the yellow tulips on his desk before pushing himself up and adjusting his white coat. He’ll have to make a note to change the water soon.

City Center Shopping Mall - Friday, 5:38PM

“You made it!”

Zayne turns at the sound of your voice to find you slightly breathless as you jog up to him, coming to a stop a few steps away.

“You sound surprised.”

A blush dusts your cheeks as you avert your eyes, “I — I’m not! I just thought… you might be a bit later than this.”

Zayne keeps his expression neutral even as he reaches out to take your hand, casually lacing his fingers between yours. He feels you give him a small squeeze and contents himself with letting you take the lead as the pair of you start to wander through the mall, glancing at the window displays.

“Oh… that smells good!” you both pause as the smell of scallions and garlic warms the air. You close your eyes and take a deep breath, “I think it’s coming from that restaurant over there! Tara was telling me that it just opened a week ago and it’s already going viral online for their stuffed pancakes —”

“C’mon then.” Zayne starts off for the restaurant.

“W-wait! We don’t have a reservation! We’ll never get in!”

Zayne keeps walking, gently tugging you behind him till you both round the corner to see a truly impressive line outside the restaurant doors. He walks passed the massive line straight to the front where a smiling girl in a flowery apron stands at an electronic podium, taking down the names of the next party in line.

“Is Liam here?”

“O-oh! Uhm, I think so!” the girl blinks, surprised as she looks down at her reservation list, “May I ask who’s asking?”

“Zayne.”

The girl nods as she slips into the restaurant. Beside him, you look up, confused.

“Do you know someone here?”

Zayne nods but doesn’t explain any further as the smiling girl comes back and motions for you both to follow her.

“Right this way Dr. Zayne! Enjoy your meal!”

Zayne gives your hand a small tug as you stumble after him, the confusion on your face blossoming into something like surprise as the pair of you duck into the bustling restaurant to be greeted by an enthusiastic young man, around Zayne’s age, his sleeves rolled up, a bandana tied around his forehead.

“Zayne! You should’ve told me you were coming!”

“It was a last-minute decision,” Zayne supplies, shaking Liam’s hand firmly, pulling you into his side even as Liam’s eyes slide onto you.

“Oh… is this the girl you were always talking about back in —”

“I think we’ll take a booth in the back, thanks,” Zayne cuts him off with a loud cough, already making for the back of the restaurant. Liam laughs good-naturedly, leading you both to a booth tucked in the very corner, away from most of the noise and bustle.

You inch into the booth, casting Zayne a curious look.

“Is that the owner? How do you know him?”

Zayne doesn’t look up as he glances over the menu before pushing it towards you.

“We went to medical school together. Pick anything you want, it’s all very good.”

Your eyebrows shoot up, “And he decided to become a chef instead?”

Zayne’s lips twitch, “Is that so unbelievable?”

You shrug, looking down at the menu at last, pursing your lips, “No… it’s just… did he drop out of med school then?”

Zayne shakes his head, “No, he was one of the best in our year.”

“Oh. Then…?”

Zayne taps the menu, “I thought you were hungry.”

You blush, looking down, “I am!”

It’s not till the middle of the meal that Zayne speaks again —

“He said it didn’t make him happy.”

You look up, your cheeks bulging with food. Zayne watches you swallow with a concerted effort, reaching out to wipe at your lips with an indulgent smile even as you swat at his hand.

“Liam? About… being a doctor?”

“Yes. And… in a way, I understood him. He said that the kitchen’s always felt more like home.”

You purse your lips, looking at your half-eaten stuffed pancake.

“Then… does the hospital feel like home? To you?”

Zayne chuckles, leaning forward to add some more veggies to your bowl with his chopsticks.

“No, it doesn’t.”

“Then…” you trail off, waiting for his answer. There’s a familiar color seeping into your cheeks as Zayne looks you over before his eyes flicker down to your bowl.

“Eat. Or else the veggies will go cold.”

Zayne’s Apartment - Friday, 7:01PM

“I’m so full!” you slump down onto his couch with a long sigh, patting your stomach.

“You were the one who wanted seconds of dessert,” Zayne says, hanging up his coat and turning to join you on the couch. You make a small noise as he lifts your legs and lays them across his lap, his thumbs absently digging into the backs of your calves.

“Ow…” you make to jerk your leg away as he hits a knot but he only grips your ankle and pulls it back with a soft tut.

“Hold still.”

You bury your face in one of the couch cushions as he continues to silently knead at your calf muscles.

“There, better?” his voice is soft now, tugging on the frayed ends of your subconscious as you turn your head to blink at him, a bit dazed.

“Yeah… lots better. Thanks.”

You make to get up but he loops an arm around your back and lifts you easily from the couch, bridal style.

“Zayne?”

“You’re staying the night, right?” he asks, even as he makes for the bedroom.

“I — I am?”

He glances down at your face as he sets you down on his bed.

“I can still drive you home if you want —” He makes to pull away.

“No! I — I can stay. I mean — I want to stay.” You reach up to tug at his shirt, fingers crumpling the material as he stills. You can feel your cheeks blazing as his gaze flickers over your face before settling on your lips.

“Alright then.”

There’s a breath’s pause before you give his shirt another tentative tug and he tips forward with the motion, leaning in to brush his lips against yours.

A soft groan bubbles out of you as Zayne presses you back and back and back, until he’s caged over you, trailing hot lips down the line of your neck, skimming his teeth along your collarbones.

“Mm — Z-Zayne…?”

He pulls back, his eyes a bit unfocused as he looks you over — you can feel the weight of his gaze as it flutters over the planes and ridges of your face, from the arch of your brows to the line of your nose. You can’t help blushing beneath this intense scrutiny, and you tug once more at his shirt, your fingers somehow having inched up to his collar, one of your fingers hooked into the top loop of his buttons.

He reaches up to cover your hand with his, fingers easily curling around your smaller hand.

“What is it?”

You lick your lips, stomach twisting, the base rumble of his voice sending shivers shaking through your body.

“Nothing just… I don’t remember you drinking at dinner so…”

He leans down to press a soft kiss to the back of your hand before dropping it back to his shirt collar.

“No, but… alcohol’s not the only thing that might cause someone to lose hold of their senses…”

You watch as his eyes darken at your intake of breath, the way his grip on your hand tightens ever so slightly.

“Then…” you swallow, eyes fluttering shut as you feel his lips trail back up your neck to your jaw.

“Are you going to make me say it?”

You let out a tiny whimper as he presses a leg up between yours, his breath now hot against the lobe of your ear.

“Say… what?”

Zayne pulls back just far enough to cock an eyebrow at you. And like this, you’ve never seen anything so alluring — the sight of him with his shirt tugged open, his eyes blown dark with desire, his hair slightly mussed from your eager fingers, his lips kissed pink, his cheeks warm with color.

“Hn. Is this my punishment then?”

“For what?”

“For being late to meet you.”

You fight back a grin, “Well… you did say I could be mean to you in person.”

Zayne lets out a sigh, “Alright then.”

You walk your fingers up his chest before pushing him back till you’re both sitting up again. He waits patiently for you to push him down and straddle his hips, slowly tugging open the buttons of his shirt, loosening his tie till it hangs undone around his neck. You lean in to press a soft kiss to his chest and revel in the way he hisses.

His fingers reach up for your hips and you catch them with a quick shake of your head.

“No touching… not till I say.”

Zayne stares at you for a second before relaxing and letting his hands fall back onto the sheets.

And it’s not until you lean down to kiss at his exposed abdomen that he groans, head tipping back. Then, a second later, you find yourself pinned beneath him, breathless, Zayne towering over you with parted lips, the moon casting stark shadows along the lines of his face.

“I said you could be mean… I didn’t say I wouldn’t retaliate.”

After, when the pair of you are curled into each other like pieces of jigsaw puzzle that’s finally found its missing parts, his breath warm along the nape of your neck, Zayne finds himself smiling.

“It’s always been you…” he murmurs, though he’s nearly certain you’re already asleep, your breathing sweet and level, your body pliant and perfect against his.

He laces his hands between yours and drops a soft kiss onto the skin of your bare shoulder.

“It doesn’t matter what I do… or where I do it… because my home has always been… you.”

[whywontyoucomeout]

Shadows in the Night

The moon hung low in the inky sky, its silvery light barely penetrating the thick canopy of clouds that blanketed the sprawling estate below. The manor house loomed large against the backdrop of darkness, its imposing silhouette a testament to the power and wealth of its occupant. Guards patrolled the perimeter with clockwork precision, their eyes scanning the shadows for any sign of intrusion.

But on this night, their vigilance would prove futile.

Like a whisper on the wind, Hikari moved through the grounds with preternatural grace. Her black attire melded seamlessly with the darkness, rendering her all but invisible to the untrained eye. Each step was calculated, each movement purposeful. She was Hikari of the Phantom Leaf, the greatest ninja of her generation, and tonight she had come to strike fear into the heart of a tyrant.

With practiced ease, Hikari scaled the wall, her fingers finding purchase where others would see only smooth stone. She vaulted over the top, landing silently on the other side. The inner courtyard stretched before her, a maze of meticulously manicured hedges and tranquil ponds. To an ordinary person, it might have seemed peaceful. To Hikari, it was a field of potential dangers.

She moved from shadow to shadow, her senses alert for any sign of detection. As she neared the main building, Hikari caught sight of two guards stationed at the entrance. Their eyes were alert, their postures rigid with attentiveness. But they were no match for her skills. With a flick of her wrist, Hikari sent two senbon needles flying through the air. They struck their targets with pinpoint accuracy, and the guards slumped to the ground, unconscious before they could raise an alarm.

Hikari slipped inside, her dark eyes scanning the opulent interior. Marble floors gleamed in the dim light, and priceless artworks adorned the walls. But she had no time to appreciate such luxuries. Her target lay ahead, in the heart of this gilded cage.

As she ascended the grand staircase, Hikari's thoughts turned to her mission. The man she sought was more than just a corrupt ruler – he was a monster who had brought suffering to countless innocents. Tonight, she would not end his life, but she would shatter the illusion of his invincibility. Fear would be her weapon, more potent than any blade.

The top floor of the manor was even more heavily guarded, but Hikari moved through their defenses like smoke through a grate. A sleeping gas here, a silent takedown there – she left a trail of unconscious bodies in her wake, never once raising an alarm.

Finally, she stood before an ornate door, its gilded surface a testament to the ego of the man who lay beyond. Hikari took a deep breath, centering herself. With silent determination, she eased the door open and slipped inside. The room beyond was dark, save for a sliver of moonlight that crept through a gap in the heavy curtains. And there, in a massive four-poster bed, lay her target – the dictator whose reign of terror was about to be challenged.

As Hikari moved towards the sleeping figure, her hand brushed against a small table, causing a delicate vase to wobble. She froze, her heart pounding, as the vase teetered on the edge for what felt like an eternity. Then, with agonizing slowness, it settled back into place.

The dictator stirred slightly but did not wake. Hikari let out a silent breath of relief, her hand instinctively moving to rest on her body. It was only then, in the faint moonlight filtering through the curtains, that the true extent of her condition became apparent. Hikari's normally lithe form was dramatically altered, her midsection swollen with the unmistakable shape of advanced pregnancy. Her black attire, designed for stealth, had concealed her condition until now, but in this moment of vulnerability, the truth was revealed.

Despite her heavily pregnant state, Hikari of the Phantom Leaf stood poised and ready, prepared to begin the next phase of her mission. The greatest challenge lay ahead, but she was undeterred. Tonight, a tyrant would learn the meaning of fear, and Hikari would prove that even in her condition, she remained the most formidable ninja of her time.

————————————-

Hikari loomed over the sleeping dictator, her presence a palpable threat in the moonlit room. With a swift motion, she pressed a razor-sharp kunai against his throat, jolting him awake. The man's eyes flew open, terror flooding his features as he realized the precariousness of his situation.

"Who... who are you?" he stammered, his voice hoarse with fear.

"I am your worst nightmare," Hikari whispered, her voice cold and steady. "I am here to show you that your power is an illusion, that your walls and guards mean nothing."

The dictator's eyes darted around frantically, searching for an escape. Hikari pressed the blade closer, drawing a thin line of blood. "Your crimes against the people will not go unpunished," she hissed. "From this day forward, you will live in fear, knowing that death can come for you at any moment."

As she spoke, Hikari felt a sharp, sudden pain in her abdomen. She managed to suppress a gasp, but couldn't entirely hide the flicker of discomfort that crossed her face. The dictator, ever observant, noticed the change in her demeanor. His eyes traveled down to her swollen belly, visible now in the dim light.

A cruel smile spread across his face as realization dawned. "Well, well," he chuckled, his fear giving way to a newfound confidence. "It seems the great assassin has a weakness after all. You're in no condition to threaten me, girl. Why don't you waddle on out of here before I call my guards? I'm sure they'd be fascinated to meet such an... interesting intruder."

Hikari gritted her teeth as another contraction hit, stronger this time. The dictator's mockery rang in her ears, fueling her determination. With lightning speed, she moved the kunai from his throat to his eye, the tip hovering mere millimeters from the cornea.

"You mistake my condition for weakness," she growled, her voice low and dangerous. "I could end your miserable life right now, baby or no baby. Your guards won't save you. Your wealth won't save you. Nothing can save you from me."

To prove her point, Hikari used her free hand to produce three senbon needles, flicking them with deadly accuracy. They embedded themselves in the wall behind the dictator's head, forming a perfect triangle around his ear. The man's bravado crumbled, replaced once again by raw fear.

"Please," he whimpered, all pretense of authority gone. "Please don't kill me. I'll do anything."

Hikari leaned in close, her voice a whisper. "Remember this moment. Remember that your life was in my hands, and I chose to spare it. But if you continue to abuse your power, to hurt the innocent, I will return. And next time, I won't be so merciful."

The dictator nodded frantically, tears streaming down his face. Hikari stepped back, satisfied that her mission was accomplished. The man before her was thoroughly broken, his illusion of invincibility shattered.

As she prepared to make her exit, another contraction hit, more intense than the last. Hikari knew she had to move quickly. With one last glare at the cowering dictator, she moved to the window, her movements still graceful despite her condition.

"Remember," she said, her voice carrying a note of finality. "I'll be watching."

With that, Hikari slipped out into the night, leaving behind a tyrant who would never again sleep soundly. As she made her way through the grounds, she allowed herself a small smile of satisfaction. Her mission was a success, and now she had an even more important task ahead – bringing new life into the world.

——————————————-

Hikari moved swiftly through the manor grounds, her ninja training allowing her to maintain stealth despite her condition. The cool night air provided some relief as she navigated the intricate maze of hedges and fountains. Freedom was close – she could see the section of wall where she had entered, now her exit point.

But as she approached her escape route, a powerful contraction hit her with unexpected force. For the first time in her career as an elite ninja, Hikari lost control. A sharp cry escaped her lips, echoing in the quiet night. She immediately clamped a hand over her mouth, eyes wide with shock at her own outburst.

Before she could recover, she felt a warm gush between her legs. Her water had broken, leaving a conspicuous puddle on the manicured lawn. Hikari's mind raced – this was a complication she hadn't prepared for.

Gritting her teeth, she forced herself to move. She had to get out now, before –

"Hey! Who's there?" a gruff voice called out. A guard, alerted by her involuntary cry, was approaching with a flashlight in hand.

Hikari melted into the shadows of a nearby topiary, her breathing shallow and controlled despite the pain. She watched as the guard discovered the puddle, his face contorting in confusion.

"What the...?" he muttered, crouching down to examine the liquid.

Hikari knew she couldn't linger. With every second, the risk of discovery increased. She began to move again, using every ounce of her training to remain silent and unseen.

But her body was betraying her. As she crept along the perimeter wall, she felt more fluid trickling down her legs. To her horror, she realized she was leaving a trail – small droplets that glistened in the moonlight, leading directly to her position.

Behind her, she could hear more guards congregating around the initial puddle. Their voices carried on the night air:

"It's not rain."

"Could be from an animal?"

"Wait – there's more over here!"

"Follow it!"

Panic threatened to overwhelm her as Hikari heard the guards beginning to follow her trail. The contractions were coming faster now, each one requiring immense willpower to stay quiet and keep moving.

She reached the spot where she had entered – a section of wall partially hidden by an old oak tree. As she prepared to scale it, another contraction hit. Hikari bit down on her lip hard enough to draw blood, suppressing another scream.

The guards were getting closer. She could hear their footsteps, see the beams of their flashlights sweeping the grounds. With a final surge of determination, Hikari began to climb.

Her fingers found familiar handholds, her feet somehow maintaining their grip despite the pain and the fluid. She reached the top of the wall just as a flashlight beam illuminated the spot where she had been standing moments before.

"The trail ends here!" a guard shouted.

"Check the other side of the wall!" another responded.

Hikari didn't wait to hear more. She lowered herself down the outer side of the wall, every movement an agony. As her feet touched the ground outside the manor, she heard the guards shouting for reinforcements.

There was no time to rest. Still leaking amniotic fluid, her body wracked with contractions, Hikari disappeared into the forest surrounding the estate. She had escaped the immediate danger, but she was far from safe. Now, she faced an even greater challenge – finding a secure location to give birth, all while evading the search parties that would soon be scouring the area.

The greatest ninja of her generation was now in a race against time, her skills pushed to their absolute limit. The night was far from over, and her most difficult trial was just beginning.

———————————

Hikari's breath came in ragged gasps as she pushed through the dense forest. The sound of pursuit grew louder behind her – the guards had picked up her trail and were closing in fast. Each contraction hit her like a tidal wave, threatening to bring her to her knees.

As she stumbled into a small clearing, Hikari realized with grim certainty that she could no longer outrun her pursuers. The contractions were too intense, too frequent. She could hear the guards crashing through the underbrush, mere moments away from discovering her.

In that instant, Hikari made a decision. She was Hikari of the Phantom Leaf, the greatest ninja of her generation. She would not be hunted down like prey.

With supreme effort, she turned to face the direction of the approaching guards. Her hands moved in a series of rapid signs, preparing a jutsu. As the first guard burst into the clearing, Hikari was ready.

"There she is!" the guard shouted, raising his weapon.

But Hikari was faster. A blast of wind chakra erupted from her palms, sending the man flying backwards into his comrades. Three more guards appeared, their faces a mix of shock and determination as they took in the sight of the heavily pregnant ninja standing defiantly before them.

"Stand down!" one of them commanded. "You can't win this fight in your condition!"

Hikari's response was a flurry of shuriken that forced the guards to dive for cover. She moved with deadly grace, her years of training allowing her to anticipate and counter every attack. A kick here, a precisely thrown kunai there – even in the throes of labor, she was a force to be reckoned with.

One guard managed to get close, swinging his sword in a wide arc. Hikari ducked under the blade, using the man's momentum against him. In one fluid motion, she redirected his swing into another guard, then dropped low to sweep his legs out from under him.

As the battle raged on, Hikari fought not just the guards, but her own body. Each contraction threatened to break her concentration, but she channeled the pain into her attacks, using it to fuel her determination.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the last guard fell unconscious to the forest floor. Hikari stood amid the fallen men, her chest heaving with exertion. She had won, but at a cost. The fight had accelerated her labor, and she could feel the baby coming.

With the immediate threat neutralized, Hikari scanned her surroundings. In the dim pre-dawn light, she spotted the dark mouth of a cave not far from the clearing. It would have to do.

Stumbling now, no longer trying to hide her condition, Hikari made her way to the cave. She barely made it inside before another powerful contraction brought her to her knees. Finding a relatively flat area near the back of the cave, she began to prepare for the imminent birth.

As she arranged herself as comfortably as possible on the cold stone floor, Hikari allowed herself a moment of reflection. This was not how she had envisioned bringing her child into the world, but she had survived, had protected both herself and her baby against impossible odds.

A new contraction built, more intense than any before. Hikari gritted her teeth, bracing herself for the challenge ahead. She had completed her mission and escaped her pursuers. Now, she faced the most important task of her life – bringing new life into the world.

In the quiet of the cave, far from the comforts of home but secure in her own strength and skill, Hikari prepared to meet her child. The greatest ninja of her generation was about to become a mother, and she would face this challenge as she had faced all others – with courage, determination, and an indomitable spirit.

————————-

In the dim light of the cave, Hikari faced her greatest challenge yet. The contractions came in relentless waves, each one more intense than the last. She leaned back against the cool stone wall, her hands instinctively cradling her swollen belly. In this moment of vulnerability, the true extent of her pregnancy was fully revealed – her belly was impressively large, straining against her torn ninja garb.

Hikari, who had moved through heavily guarded compounds without making a sound, now found herself unable to contain her cries. Each contraction drew from her a primal sound that echoed off the cave walls. The dichotomy wasn't lost on her – the silent assassin now filled the air with the raw, unfiltered sounds of impending motherhood.

"I can do this," she whispered to herself between contractions, drawing on the same well of strength that had carried her through countless missions.

Hours passed, blurring together in a haze of effort and determination. Hikari shifted positions frequently, trying to find some measure of comfort in the unforgiving environment. She focused on her breathing, using techniques that had once kept her calm in the face of mortal danger to now manage the pain of childbirth.

As the labor progressed, Hikari felt the baby descending, only to slip back again. It was a dance of progress and retreat, testing her patience and resolve. She widened her stance, bracing herself against the cave floor, every muscle in her body working towards bringing her child into the world.

In a moment of clarity between contractions, Hikari reflected on the irony of her situation. She had spent years honing her body into a silent, lethal weapon. Now, that same body was performing its most natural and vocal function. The juxtaposition was striking – the quietest ninja in the land, now unable to stifle her cries.

But as another powerful contraction built, Hikari realized that this too was a form of strength. To bring life into the world required as much courage and determination as any mission she had undertaken. She was still Hikari of the Phantom Leaf, still the greatest ninja of her generation. This was simply a different kind of battle.

With renewed resolve, Hikari prepared for the final stage of her labor. The greatest challenge of her life was nearing its end, and a new chapter was about to begin.

———————————

The cave echoed with Hikari's labored breathing as the contractions reached their peak intensity. Her body, honed through years of rigorous training, now trembled with exhaustion and pain. In this moment of extreme vulnerability, the walls she had built around her emotions began to crumble.

"Takeshi," she cried out, her voice raw with anguish and longing. "Takeshi, I wish you were here."

The name of her late husband, unspoken for so long, now fell from her lips like a prayer. Hikari, who had faced countless dangers without flinching, found herself yearning for the comfort of his presence. In this intimate moment of weakness, she allowed herself to feel the full weight of her loss.

"Please," she whispered, her hands cradling her swollen belly. "Please, little one, it's time to come out now."

Driven by instinct and desperation, Hikari adjusted her position, trying to find a way to ease the baby's passage. She shifted uncomfortably on the cave floor, doing her best to create more space for the child to emerge.

The pain intensified, and Hikari's pleas turned to determination. She drew upon every ounce of strength left in her body, every lesson in endurance she had ever learned. The greatest ninja of her generation now faced a challenge that required a different kind of courage.

Hours seemed to blur together, punctuated by Hikari's cries and the steady drip of water from the cave's ceiling. And then, just as the first rays of dawn began to filter into the cave's entrance, a new sound pierced the air – the lusty cry of a newborn.

Hikari gasped, her pain momentarily forgotten as she reached for her child. With trembling hands, she cradled the tiny, wriggling form against her chest. Tears streamed down her face, a mix of relief, joy, and lingering sorrow for the husband who would never meet their child.

"Hello, little one," she whispered, her voice hoarse but filled with love. "Welcome to the world."

As the newborn's cries subsided into soft whimpers, Hikari felt a profound shift within herself. She was still Hikari of the Phantom Leaf, still a formidable ninja, but now she was something more – a mother. The mission that had brought her to this cave was complete, but a new, lifelong mission had just begun.

In the quiet of the early morning, as she held her child close and listened to the gentle sounds of their breathing, Hikari made a silent vow. She would protect this new life with all the skill and dedication she had ever brought to her role as a ninja. And perhaps, in raising this child, she would find a new kind of strength – one born not of silence and shadows, but of love and sacrifice.

As the sun rose over the forest, casting a warm glow into the cave, Hikari and her newborn rested. The night of danger and pain had passed, giving way to a new day full of promise and possibility. The greatest challenge of Hikari's life had been met, and a new chapter was just beginning.

[beansprean]

Commission from @vampireshmampire for "The Honeymoon Suite" - pls read this fic it's so cute

(ID in alt and under cut)

ID: 1. Shot from the bottom of a flight of switchback wooden stairs turning right, covered centrally by a dark green rug. The walls are half paneled in a pale beech wood below and light floral-patterned wallpaper above. Under the second flight on the right is a large leafy plant and a half-obscured brass sign that says “No Smoking, No Hexing, No Marking T-, No Bloodlet-, No Ectoplasm.” On the left wall going up the stairs is a small framed photo of two smiling women with red hair standing in front of a large house and holding a “sold” sign and two brass signs, one says “suited” and points up the stairs and the other marks the floor as “1”. Further up the wall are other kitschy decorations: a patterned hanging tapestry; a large painting of a dandelion against a full moon; a framed photo of two smiling redheaded women posed cheek to cheek in wedding dresses; a mounted bluegill fish labeled “Franklin III”; a decorative plate ringed with witchy runes and a red seeing eye in the center; a decorative plate ringed in yellow flowers, buds, and bees, with “The Bee and Bee” written in cursive in the center; a needlepoint that says “home is where the wine is”; a painting of a flowery valley at a low angle, sunset sky peeking through a heart-shaped lichen exit at the end; and a single window with orange spotted curtains and blacked out panes. In the corner of the landing between flights there is a small French accent chair with a teal leaf pattern and a Grecian vase filled with pink-budded branches. Nandor is sitting sprawled on the landing, one leg stretched across it and the other laid out on the stairs below. He is leaning against the left-hand wall, hair bunched up as if he had fallen and slid down. He is flushed purple and laughing hysterically, chin tipped up and mouth open wide, tears leaking from his eyes. One arm is laid down limply and the other is held up to grasp blindly at Guillermo’s elbow. Guillermo is standing between Nandor’s legs, hunched over with one hand braced on his knee as he cries laughing with equal hysteria, flushed to his ears and helplessly lifting one finger to his laughing mouth to try to shush them. They are clearly drunk as hell but having a great time.

2. The same drawing, zoomed in to Guillermo and Nandor. /end ID

[snorky]

The Dirt Seems To Falter In My Hands, Like I Do So For You

Hey y’all! A shorter, sweeter, Quinn Hughes work! If you have ever worked with clay or ceramics, this might make sense, and if not, I hope I went over it well enough. All fluff and sweetness! I hope you enjoy this work of fiction, and take care of yourself please!

Pairing: Quinn Hughes x F!Reader

Word Count: 1.0k

Warnings: None? Kissing I guess? (Lightly making out)? (Let me know if I need to add anything)

—

—

As she walked into her art room, the sun beamed softly into it, pouring through the windows of the room. Tiny particles of dust seemed to float around gently like glitter in the sun, dancing in the air.

A small stool was placed in front of her potter’s wheel, awaiting to join the adventure of creating something so beautiful from the ground. Clean and dirty rags alike were placed on the splash guard, and tools of all sorts were strewn randomly on the nearest flat surface.

Grabbing her apron, she put it on over her clothes. She walked to the clay that sat on top of her table, a plastic bag sheltering it from the seemingly greedy air that would wick moisture within the clay away as soon as it could. She gently, so carefully, removed the only thing that separated the clay and the air. Cutting a piece of clay from the block, she held it delicately in her palms, an almost religious routine that had built up over the years.

Firmly placing the clay onto the wheel, making sure that it was centered, she started to step on the pedal, allowing the wheel to rotate. She dipped her hands into the bowl of water that sat nearby on the table, wetting it, and started working the clay into a rounder, more uniform cylinder. 

Slowly, she dug her thumbs into the center of the clay, forming an opening for her vase. Her palm carefully shaped the outside, building up the walls of the vase taller. Holding the sponge with her other hand, she shaped the vase with curves and smooth edges.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Quinn sighed as he gently wrapped his arms around her shoulders, careful to not disrupt her.

She released her foot from the pedal, allowing the wheel to stop spinning. Letting go of her clay, she leaned back against him, resting on his shoulder and chest. “Hi, Quinn,” she spoke softly. “Are you doing alright, my love?”

He nodded, his hair falling onto his face, “I’m wonderful.” Pressing his lips against her hair, he smiled. “What about you, gorgeous girl?”

“I’m doing lovely, always am when I’m with you.” She leaned back to kiss his lips, her hands careful to not get clay onto him. “You’re so pretty, Quinn,” she sighed. “Don’t think I’ve told you enough.” Kissing him once more, she pulled away.

Leaning closer to her, like he couldn’t get enough of her, he kissed her shoulder. “Can I watch you? Please?” He looked delicate, his face gentle and soft, even with his slight scruffiness and stubble on his jaw.

“Of course, darling.” She looked into his eyes, “You don’t have to ask, you know?”

He nodded, an almost sad smile appearing on his face. Pulling a stool nearby and placing it across from her, he sat down, and watched intently as she worked the clay in her hands.

She dipped her sponge into the bowl of water, soaking it, and then carefully stepped on the pedal to allow the wheel to spin again. Holding the sponge to the side of the vase, she continued to form and shape the vase itself, breathing life into it.

Quinn watched as the clay seemed to transform into something beautiful from her palms, admiring her gentleness with it. Even though her hands, her apron, and parts of her arm were covered in wet clay, he found her so heavenly. 

He’d always found her heavenly, ever since he met her. The way she smiled, the way she spoke, the way she laughed. He loved and adored every bit of her.

“Quinn, baby?” Her voice softly broke through the silence. “Why the sad look?”

Looking up at her, she saw a quiet vulnerability seep into him, a desire for something that seemed so, unnecessary, but something he wanted so badly.

His eyes trailed to her lips, her soft sweet lips, and towards her eyes. “May I kiss you?” he whispered. “Please.” A hint of desperation seemed to float in his words, swirling around in his breath.

She stopped the wheel and leaned over to give him a quick peck on the lips, but he wanted more. When she pulled away, a whimper fell from his lips. “What’s wrong?” A worried expression flooded her face.

“Kiss me more,”

As she placed her lips on his again, he sighed. Her arms were awkwardly wrapped around his neck on his shoulders, attempting to not get wet clay onto him or his clothes.

“Don’t be afraid to get clay on me, angel,” he spoke between his breaths. “Please.”

After she wiped her hands on her apron, one of her hands trailed back to his face, cupping it delicately as she kissed him deeper, some of the clay smearing on his jaw. 

He kissed back, harder, weaving his fingers into her hair as he held the back of her head with reverence, like she was a sacred being.

When they pulled away from each other, their lips were parted, swollen slightly, prettily. The hunger in his eyes seemed to remain, begging, pleading, all so vulnerable for wanting more of her.

“Can I hold you while you’re workin’ on that?” His eyes seemed to have a soft glint to them, a gentleness similar to moss on oak.

She nodded, and almost regretfully, he pulled away from her for a brief moment, walking behind her and wrapping his arms around her once more. He tugged her close as he sat behind her, his thumbs rubbing small, gentle patterns into her body. 

It was almost a mirror resemblance of her, hands working shapes and patterns into the clay, and he, his own palms and fingers holding onto her dearly, memorizing every shape and curve of her.

“You’re lovely,” he hummed against her.

“And you’re lovely as well, don’t ever forget that.”

They both remained there for the next few, basking in the sun together, the whir of the potter’s wheel humming, and their love for one another gentle and sweet.

[spidermans-l-o-v-e-r]

Strawberries and Cream

Pairing: Eddie Diaz x Reader

Word count: 5.2k

Notes: I’ve said it once I’ll say it again, I’m Autistic, your guess is as good as mine as for whatever is happening in chapter 8

Episode 7: I can hear the bells

And now for the moment we’ve all been waiting for

Eddie stands in front of Buck's door, flowers in hand. He smooths out his suit and gulps quietly, before knocking. 

It’s odd that anyone knocks on Buck’s door and doesn’t just shout for him to open it 

“You’re acting weird,” you tell Buck and he shrugs feigning innocence 

“I literally have no idea what you’re talking about. What? A guy can’t want to do his cousin's hair? Especially me??”

“Yeah, I suppose that does sound like you when you put it that way…” 

Buck had woken up that day in a very older brotherly mood. He made you breakfast and even made you get in the shower afterwards while he cleaned up. 

“Here I got you this. I ran out of razors for you to steal” 

He’d tossed you a can of magic shave powder and you narrowed your eyes at him. He was being oddly… nice today. 

“Thanks”   

You open the door and your mouth drops open, Eddie is standing there, and he looks fine as hell. You’d never seen him in nicer clothes than this. That suit is tailored to the gods. It fits every dip and curve of his body perfectly. It’s the deepest shade of black you think you’ve ever seen with a red tie and a gold tie pin right in the center, in the shape of a star. Even his shoes are nice and shiny 

“I picked today when you’re staying at Buck’s so that way we would have space after, you know.” He sounds a little nervous as he stands in front of you, his heart on his sleeve 

“After…what?” You ask as he hands you the beautiful flowers and a pretty pink box 

“After our first date”

Good thing you stopped being suspicious and used the damn powder. 

“Our- our first” you stutter and he smirks, that little nervousness gone for the time being because the way you’re short-circuiting is priceless 

“Mhmm… do me a favor and go change? I knew I was springing this on you so Buck and Maddie helped me pick an outfit for you” he taps the box and you look dumbly at it 

“I think you broke her” Buck comes over and takes the flowers to put in a vase for you before he grabs your shoulders, pulling you inside as Eddie follows. He gives you a little shove towards the stairs and you walk slowly up them, occasionally turning around to glare at Buck and Eddie suspiciously. 

“Would you hurry up!” Buck yells at you and you scurry up the stairs. Eddie snorts and shakes his head following Buck over to the kitchen 

“You look so damn good I told you I knew what I was doing” Buck compliments him smugly and Eddie rolls his eyes, watching him trim the stems 

“Yeah-yeah you were right…Thank you, honestly Buck” 

“Hey, anything for the two of you. And don’t worry,” he wiggles his eyebrows “I called Angelo’s and got you my special table” 

“I told you not to do that!” He groans and slaps his hand over his face 

“Hey! I did not wait this long to not give you my make-out table. God you know the strings I had to pull to get that!” 

“You just called Emery and reminded him of your one-night stand,” Eddie says plainly and Buck’s mouth drops open 

“Or you called Alyssa” He adds and Buck whacks him with a rose 

“I’ll have you know it was Vanny. Asshole! You know my friend?! The owner's daughter?!” 

Eddie looks at him skeptically and he gasps loudly, before pulling out his phone. He shoves the recent calls in Eddie’s face 

“See!”

“What are you idiots fighting about now?” 

“Bucks stupid make-out…table…” 

The end of his sentence is whispered as you come down the stairs carefully. Buck and Maddie took their time choosing an outfit for you because if he was finally gonna do this you were gonna look good. 

It’s a relatively simple dress, it flows behind you as you walk down the stairs carefully in your gold heels. The dress is red and silky, with spaghetti straps and a slit up to your thigh. You’ve got a small gold necklace on and your hair is put up with fancy gold pins in it. One is shaped like the moon and the other is shaped like a shooting star 

You stand in front of them, doing a little spin and Eddie feels exactly like he did all over again when he’d first met you. 

“H-hi,” He says and you blush, giving him a little wave with your fingers 

“Hi… d-do I look okay?” You ask shyly and he nods slowly, coming around the counter to take your hands in his 

“You look gorgeous, Y/N.” He says softly and you roll your eyes playfully 

“Oh, you’re just saying that!” 

He cups your face in his hands carefully and kisses your lips, tasting that sweet strawberry glitter gloss. His touch is soft and tender, the way he looks at you, his gaze so full of warmth and adoration. 

“No, you’re beautiful… I-I’ve been waiting a long time for this night… and it doesn’t matter how it goes anymore, because I got to see you like this” 

Your heart melts over his words and you look up at him, biting your lip gently. He leans in again, kissing your forehead 

“Be a little more sappy, I haven’t thrown up yet” Buck snaps his fingers and you and Eddie look over, he’s got at least three cameras on you guys 

“What?” You say under your breath and Buck chuckles gleefully 

“This one’s got everyone on FaceTime” He points to the open laptop he’d spun around when Eddie had walked over 

“I’m taking pictures with this” He waves his phone 

“And this is recording the whole thing” He points to his iPad 

“You FaceTimed everyone?” You groan as you let your head fall against Eddie’s chest completely embarrassed. And sure enough, the entire time is on FaceTime cheering and whistling for the two of you 

“We did not wait this long not to see this moment,” Athena says from the laptop and you shake Eddie who snorts and pulls you away from him 

“Look how pretty she looks” He holds you in front of him and you cover your face with your hands 

“Really!!” You hiss and they all ooh and aah over you. You yank Eddie in front of you now and he stumbled forward 

“Oh yeah! Well he looks even better” 

“Do prom poses” Chimney says and Eddie turns around, grabbing your waist and picking you up to make you face them again 

“Oh I was totally already gonna make them do it,” Buck says and comes around the counter 

“Alright come on, you know what we want”

“Oh my god” you mutter and Eddie just giggles, putting his arms around your waist and pulling you flush against his body. He doesn’t care about how embarrassing any of this is, and it is embarrassing as hell don’t get him wrong. But how could he care, when he gets to go on a date with you, a real date? 

Buck makes you guys do a few more ridiculous poses while you all talk, but eventually, Eddie manages to drag you out the front door and to the car so you’re not late to your reservations. He opens the door for you, kissing your hand as he helps you in and you blush, collecting your dress so he can shut the door 

“As much as I hate all of their guts right now that was super cute” You giggle as he gets in and buckles himself in

“Oh I totally agree, we’re gonna get all of them back for that. God, I can’t believe they all actually called to see this” 

“Well it’s been a long time coming” you smirk “Two friends going on a date” 

“And who knows if they’re even gonna get together” Eddie snickers before taking your hand in his as he backs out of the driveway 

“Maybe you’ll end up dumping spaghetti in my lap or something,” you say and he scoffs 

“First of all, I’m not ruining that dress. Second of all, I’m not ordering spaghetti” 

“I don’t believe you now. Should you even be driving?” You ask as you hold his hand in both of yours and he shrugs when he gets to the stop sign 

“Do you know where we’re going?” 

“No”

“So how are you supposed to drive us?” He raises an eyebrow and you roll your eyes 

“There’s this weird little thing our phones have called GPS! Oh, and you know this other odd phenomenon, where humans? Yeah they can give directions” you sass him and he bites his lip, holding back a laugh 

“You wanna drive that badly, Princess? Because I’ll let you. But I like the way you look in the passenger seat” 

Your cheeks flush as you watch him driving, he looks over at you occasionally and you frown, because he’s making you all shy and mushy inside and you know he’s enjoying every second 

“I’m just worried about your shoulder that’s all,” you say, all calm and proper and he smiles widely, squeezing your hand 

“Thanks for worrying about me cutie” 

“Thanks for worrying about me cutie” You mimic him and he chuckles, pulling his hand away and swatting your thigh 

“So full of sass tonight huh?” You reach for his hand again and he pulls it away from you

“Nuh huh bad girls don’t get what they want” 

Your mouth falls open and he looks over at you for a second, eying you up and down 

“Something wrong Sugar Cube?” 

“You give me your hand back right now!” 

“Gotta beg for it, sweet girl”

“Eddieee” You whine and he swats your leg again 

“Aren’t you lucky I can’t reach your ass right now… you want it back? you beg for it sweet thing or you’re just gonna have to sit by yourself and pout about it” 

You cross your arms over your chest, huffing as you stare out the window. He smirks as he watches the road in front of him, watching you through the corner of his eye. You peek over at him a couple of times, watching the way he flexes his fingers on the wheel. You sigh quietly and lean your head on the window

“Please can I have your hand back” you mumble and he leans over 

“Huh? I don’t think I heard you. Gotta speak louder Sugar Cube” 

You grit your teeth, narrowing your eyes for a second before turning to him 

“Please, can I please, please, have your hand back… I n-need you”

The little wobble in your voice gets him and his eyes roll back as he sets his hand back in your lap, locking his fingers with your”

“Good girl” 

Eddie opens the door for you and helps you out, making sure you bunch up the bottom of your dress a bit so it doesn’t get dirty. You take his arm and walk in, this place is nice. You know, oddly too nice to be called Angelo’s. But the fancy sign on the front kind of makes up for it 

Vanny comes over immediately, hugging Eddie and cooing over how beautiful you look. She says that Buck talks about you all the time and you blush as you shake her hand warmly. She leads you both back to a quieter table, there’s not many people around and it can’t be seen from all sides 

Yeah okay make out table makes sense.

There’s a bucket of ice, chilling a fancy champagne bottle, and little candles on the table. Red rose petals decorate the table and spill slightly onto the floor around it. 

“Oh this is beautiful,” You say quietly, and Vanny winks at Eddie. They really did have this all planned out. 

You scoot into one side of the small booth and Eddie sits on the other, his arm coming up to rest behind you, you blush as you look at him, and he boops your nose 

“Aaron will be over soon to take your orders and there will be minimal interruptions. Everything is already taken care of, so please order whatever you’d like! You two enjoy your night!”

Vanny walks away and you scoot closer to Eddie, toying with his tie 

“Can’t wait to light myself on fire! This is really romantic you know, who knew you had it in ya!” You poke at him and he scoffs 

“I’ve been like top-tier romantic like sixty times okay” He tilts your chin up and places a soft kiss on your lips 

“Champagne?” 

“Yeah okay” you say softly, batting your eyelashes “What kind is it?” 

Eddie fixes his sleeves to avoid getting them wet and grabs the bottle, drying it off a little 

“Uhhh strawberry” He chuckles, popping the top “Kind of our thing” He pours you a glass, handing it to you, and then pours his own, he also blows out a couple of the little candles and pushes them away from you. Because you joke… but he can just see you burning the whole place down 

“What should we toast to?” You ask watching him and he puts his arm back behind your shoulders 

“Whatever you want Sugar cube,” He says, and the way he looks at you, with those deep brown eyes just melts you to your core, you sigh softly, tilting your head to the side and he bites his lip, chuckling a little 

“Is it cheesy to say “to us” because that feels cheesy” you giggle and he smiles, nuzzling his nose against yours 

“How about the tiger who bonded us with tiger PTSD” 

You snort and laugh into his chest, nearly spilling your champagne in your lap, he holds your glass steady as you hide your laughs 

“Or to that night you were a total nerd and took me to the car to warm me up before kissing me on the beach” 

Eddie groans loudly and you laugh more 

“Please god don’t remind me about that, I’ve thought about that way too much” 

You pull away from him, wiping away little tears as your giggles die out 

“You’ve thought about that?” 

“Are you kidding me? I think about that night constantly… That was one of the best nights of my life. Which you know would have been ten times better had I not waited to kiss you like a dumbass”

You laugh through your nose and he rolls his eyes clinking your glasses together and you both sip

“If it helps… that was one of the best nights of my life too” you blush as you hide behind your champagne glass, taking a longer sip than necessary

“Really?” He’s blushing just as much 

“Of course! I kinda felt like I was really yours you know? And like I was a part of the family…” 

Eddie sips his champagne again, wondering  which one of you is gonna win drinking all of their alcohol first just to try and hide the blushing 

“Just gonna drop that on me? In public? Where I can’t roll around and kick?” 

You swat his chest and cover your mouth, he’s making you laugh way too much. But he likes the sound of your laugh, he likes the way it makes him feel. 

“We should probably actually look at the menu” You tease as you grab yours, he doesn’t bother with his own, just stays close to you, laying his head on top of yours 

“What sounds good to you Sugar cube?”

You look over the menu, humming softly “You know what we completely forgot to talk about?” 

You feel Eddie’s finger running slowly up and down your arm 

“Hm?”

“She said everything was taken care of? What the heck does that mean” 

“That means Buck did a lot more than just get his make-out table” He sighs, pulling out his phone and calling him. You lean into him, enjoying his cologne that he put on a little heavier this time 

“Did something happen??? Are you guys okay??” Buck answers immediately and you smile a little 

“Yeah we’re fine,” Eddie says “Look, Vanny said everything was taken care of?” 

“You’re calling me in the middle of your first date to tell me what I told her to tell you?” 

He deadpans it and you snort 

“We just wanted to tell you not to freaking do that,” You say and Buck curses under his breath 

“My cousin, who is practically my sister, gets with my best friend in the entire world who is practically my brother - wait that's weird”

Eddie laughs

“Anyway. And you think for one damn second I’m not gonna pull strings for the both of you???” 

“You really didn’t-“ Eddie starts and Buck cuts him off 

“I did have to Eddie. Because I love you two more than anything in this entire world. Now shut the fuck up, hang the fuck up, and order the entire damn menu I don’t care. Just don’t call me again unless it’s an emergency”

You both hear the click of him hanging up and Eddie rolls his eyes

“Your brother is annoying”

“So is yours” 

You both chuckle and go back to looking through the menu, you decide on chicken Alfredo, which Eddie teases you and says you always get and he decides on chicken Parmesan and you tease him back, saying he always gets that in a high-pitched voice and he scoffs 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about”

He makes you both order different drinks so you guys can stop downing the champagne. They weren’t kidding when the bottle said it was high-quality stuff. 

Aaron comes by and takes your orders, promising he won’t be back until it’s ready and you blush, he even adds it’ll probably be around 20 minutes and winks 

“I’m not gonna lie this is a little embarrassing,” you say as soon as Aaron leaves and Eddie nods, putting his hand on your hip and pulling you into him 

“Oh no it’s totally embarrassing” 

He nuzzles his nose against yours before kissing you softly, he tastes good, like the strawberry champagne you’re both drinking, and a little minty from the toothpaste he used. You smile against his lips and he cups your cheek, deepening the kiss 

“But we’re gonna do this anyway right?” You mumble against his lips, pulling him in closer by his lapels 

“Oh hell yes” 

You spend the majority of the 20 minutes halfway in his lap with his hand caressing and teasing the soft inside of your thigh, always inching closer but never where you want it. Your hand stays steadily over his crotch, and every time you lean in more he groans as you put more pressure on it. You can feel how hard he is through his perfectly tailored pants 

“Quit it, you little tease” He growls against your lips and you giggle into his mouth as you attack him, wrapping your tongue around his. He whines and pulls you fully into his lap, wrapping his arms around your waist. You feel him shoving your dress up as high as he can without exposing you too much and your breath hitches as it bunches around your waist. He’s using the slit in your dress to his advantage, he’s so happy you were okay with such a high one too. 

“Eddie Diaz!” You hiss, but it’s cut off by a soft moan as his hands knead your flesh 

“Yes, baby?” his voice is sultry and teasing as he slides his hands under your dress, feeling over your bare hips. 

Maybe this table wasn’t the best idea. 

He’s busy kissing down your neck, and sliding your spaghetti straps down when someone clears their throat. You whimper when he pulls away, both of you panting harshly. You have just enough time to fix yourselves up when Aaron comes back with his serving tray, clearly walking slowly towards your table and setting it down on the table behind him. He hands you both your plates, and you thank him, a deep blush on your cheeks from totally being caught, while Eddie completely enjoys this. 

Aaron sets a breadstick basket down which is full of a stupid amount of them and Eddie raises an eyebrow 

“Buck?”

“Buck”

They say it at the same time and you grin, taking one “Oh he knows us so well” 

Dinner is utterly delicious and you and Eddie both share, he starts a breadstick fight and it’s funny until half of his goes flying across the room, your mouths drop wide open as you watch it sail through the air, and that puts an end to the fight very quickly. Not to mention he bites yours in half when you’re not looking and smiles widely with his cheeks full when you ask where the heck it went 

Eddie holds your strawberry lemonade for you as you sip it, watching the way your lips wrap around the straw 

“So when are you gonna do that to me?” He asks suddenly and you choke on your lemonade, nearly spitting it out at him and literally through your nose. He throws your napkin at you, setting the glass back down so he doesn’t drop it with how hard he’s shaking from laughter as you cough up a lung and a half 

“I’m going to kill you!” You wheeze and grab his water to clear your throat 

“Not if I kill you first apparently” 

You punch him in the stomach and he wheezes, bending over dramatically. He pretends to fall over but nearly topples out of the booth anyway You grab his arm, yanking him back towards you and he crashes into your chest 

“I think we need to chill with the champagne” you giggle uncontrollably as Eddie keeps his head on your chest, nuzzling his face against your soft breasts and effectively getting glitter on his face. He sighs contentedly as your cheeks flush deeply

“I thought we already did”

“You’re literally buried in my boobs” You gesture down to him and he looks up at you 

“Oh this is just because I can” 

“Eddie!!”

You both eat way too many of the breadsticks after that, just to sober up some. Or else neither of you will be driving home tonight, which Eddie teases would be just fine with him because that would mean he could get you in the backseat. 

The lights around you have been dimmed and bit and neither of you is really sure what time it is, but you’ve been promised they’ll stay all night if you’d like. Aaron whispers something in Eddie’s ear and he smirks, looking you over before nodding to him

Eddie has no idea what the hell kind of connections Buck has but he’s loving them. 

Dinner plates have been taken away and you’re given a dessert menu 

“I’m pretty sure I’m way too stuffed for dessert,” you say, patting your tummy and he chuckles, nodding his head 

“Maybe we can just take it home… or, maybe we could dance it off?” 

Literally on cue, a man walks over as Aaron puts a computer down, bowing politely before putting a violin to his chin. Your mouth drops open as Eddie scoots out from the booth and holds his hand out 

“Can I have this dance, Sugar Cube?”

You start giggling as you get out of the booth “That was the smoothest thing ever” 

Eddie gets so giddy as you take his hand, wiggling a little “Oh my god I know right that was so hot. Like I don’t mean to toot my own horn but damn we were on time” He puts his hand up and the man high-fives it before going back to playing for the two of you with his accompaniment 

Eddie holds you close to his chest, just where he likes you to always be. You dance together smoothly, swaying back and forth for a bit before he makes you do a little spin and you giggle 

“Okay wait is this Wildest Dreams??” You ask and Eddie smirks as you come back to his chest

“Yeah, you like Bridgerton right? I thought you’d like this” 

Your mouth drops and he grins widely 

“Oh we’re officially getting married someday” You joke and he shrugs

“I thought that was already established but okay”

Your mouth drops open as you freeze in place, staring at him. “Y-you want-??”

He looks down at you “More than-“ He can’t bring himself to finish the sentence as he stares into your eyes, watching the way they sparkle just for him. Because neither of you could handle that right now, you’re not even “daTiNG” yet. You haven’t even said that you- you haven’t even said those three little words that are constantly on the tip of his tongue in everything he does with you, every day he spends with you. 

But how could he say that to you? He’s not even sure you could say that to him. It’s… god it’s not that he doesn’t want to either, he’s just- afraid not ready. What if he isn’t good enough for you? What if he hurts you? What if he has another PTSD attack and you decide you can’t deal with that? That you can’t love him if he’s like that. 

Neither of you can even breathe in this moment, you know for sure you’re not. Because you want to say it. But you can’t bring yourself to, because what if he doesn’t say it back? You know Eddie by now, you know he lets his insecurities get in the way of living sometimes and this just feels like one of those things he can’t do unless he’s ready.

But you’d sure as hell spend a lot of time helping him work through them because he’s worth it. No matter how much reassurance it took, no matter how many hours you spent learning to help someone with PTSD so you could help him. You’d take the time to do it. 

So you’ll wait, you’ll wait for him to say it first. Because you know what you feel, you know you’ll never feel this way for anyone else for as long as you live. So you just give him a little smile, a little smile that you know he’s gonna know exactly what it means. You watch the way he relaxes, you see the little tears in the corner of his eyes that he blinks away and just puts your head down against his chest. 

He wants you to hear his heart beating solely for you, because without a doubt, both of you know what you’re saying at that point. 

I see you, I hear you. I-

“Patience, Sugar Cube. First, we have to stop pretending to be friends”

“Why did this kind of feel like all our other hangouts? Just fancier” You ask Eddie as you lean against the front door, you dig through your bag to find your keys 

“Aha!” You pull them out and look up and he’s staring down at you with that look in his eyes. Your hand falls to your sides slowly as you reach up for him, pulling him down to your height and kissing him. It feels different now, you’re not really sure why… it feels… like the start of something 

“I don’t think this was our first date baby girl” He says against your lips, settling his hands on your waist 

“I think I’ve been an idiot calling you a friend this entire time…Because let’s be honest… you’re my girl” 

“But we’re not gonna tell them that right?” You ask softly, feeling his emotions through the way he kisses you and he smiles, nodding 

“Nope”

“So…” you pull away a little, looking at him, the moon and the stars shine behind him and they don’t hold a candle to the way he looks right now. 

“Will you please, finally be my girlfriend?” He asks softly, nuzzling your nose a little with his “I refuse to go one more day not calling you mine” 

It’s funny, the way your heart beats out of your chest when he asks that. Because really… haven’t you been his girlfriend this entire time? But that little label that both of you denied for so long, the reasons you denied it all seems stupid now 

“Okay. Eddie’s girl kinda has a nice ring to it anyway”

Eddie scoops you up in his arms, spinning you around as you squeal and giggle. Your lips find his and he moans into your mouth, making sure you wrap your legs securely around his waist. 

Your back hits the front door and you gasp, as he grinds against you, your cunt already starting to drip into your panties 

“Eddie!! Buck is home!” You hiss and he scoffs. 

“We’re outside… you didn’t seem to mind when he was down the stairs”

Your mouth drops open and he snickers, setting you on your feet gently and kissing you, his tongue sliding into your mouth and wrapping around yours immediately. The way he teases you laps at your tongue like he’s ready to devour you… maybe you’re gonna have to kick Buck out. 

Eddie reaches down for your keys now, taking his time finding the right one as you two kiss. He’s just about to stick it into the lock when the door whooshes open. 

“Jes- Buck?!” Eddie curses and you squeak, jumping and nearly falling backward into the house. Eddie grabs your arms, yanking you against his chest.

“Why!??” Eddie pinches the bridge of his nose and Buck just stands there, smiling like the sweet little adorable angel he is 

“Oh! I just thought you were ready to go” 

“Ready to go where?” He asks and you giggle, leaning your head against his chest 

“Duh back to your place”

“You’re coming back to my place? Since when??” 

“Since my best friend had his first date with the girl of his dreams and me and Chim set it up??” He scoffs like that’s common knowledge and takes your keys from Eddie’s hand, placing them nicely in yours 

“Come on they’re waiting” he walks right between you two and Eddie throws his hands in the air, exasperated 

“Who’s waiting?” He gives you a quick kiss and you laugh, leaning against the door frame and watching him follow after Buck 

“Chim and a uh…friend of mine! Y/N, Maddie, and Hen are inside! Have a good night!!” He runs back and kisses you on the cheek, giving you a tight squeeze as Eddie gets into the passenger side of his own car, he knows Buck isn’t gonna let him drive 

“Don’t worry, Maddie is gonna text me everything and I swear I’ll keep it a secret!!” He ruffles your hair and you push his hand away, swatting at him 

“Alright, okay!! Go!!” 

Eddie stares at you from the window and you give him a little wave, blowing him a kiss. He smiles and shakes his head and you know he’s blushing. He actually catches it and kisses his hand and you giggle, rolling your eyes at how cute he is 

What a way to end your first date

“Oh come on! One date and I have to suffer through this now!!” Buck stomps his way to the car and gets in, flipping you both off as he drives away

[deartouya]

TIME OF YEAR — HAWKS

summary: the week following valentine's day, you start getting a gift a day. they're always sitting on your desk when you get in, never attached to any note, and always something that you'd like. then a certain pro-hero shows up at your door brandishing a bouquet.

pairing: hawks x gn!reader

wordcount: 1.4k

content: reader works in miruko's agency, fluff, stocked full of (very american) valentine's fluff and cliches, gift giving as a weird confession, best friend bakugou bc i can't help myself, mentions of food/eating.

happy valentine's day lovies !!! i barely finished this in time but ;-; it's done !! and i had to write something for keigo bc i love him dearly ;-; i hope you enjoy my self indulgence even if it's not my best work !

Working for Miruko's agency has been surprisingly mundane for a top hero agency. Spending your day filing reports and attempting to lessen the load of paperwork for her and the dozens of sidekicks she worked with. You'd grown fond of the routine, comfortable with your daily cafe runs and lunches spent working at your desk. It was nice, normal.

The past week has been weird, though.

It started with a rose. Soft and creamy maroon petals left in the center of your desk without a note or any hint of who had left it. You thought it'd been a mistake, someone mistaking your office for someone else's, but no one in the entire office building recognized or claimed it. So you found a dusty flower vase under your sink and kept it on the corner of your desk.

Next were blueberry muffins. You recognized the little white box from your favorite bakery the moment you saw it, the one nestled in a corner of the city which is almost always empty. Buttery and still warm when you finally willed yourself to open it. You couldn't help the warmth which filled your chest at the smell of them and you ate two of them for breakfast before starting your paperwork.

The rest of the week was filled with more gifts, all practical or catered perfectly to your own tastes; a pair of cashmere gloves a muted gray, a coffee from your favorite cafe just the way you ordered it, a shiny broach in the shape of two doves, a travel coffee mug not too much after your own finally worn out. Nothing that hinted at whoever's been leaving them for you.

 "Come on, Katsuki," you lament, folding yourself pathetically over your desk, "you're always at the office--you have to have seen them come to my office! And you're the only one who knows I go to that bakery every morning, you have to know!" He snorts, barely looking up from his own stack of reports to see the considerably large box of heart-shaped chocolates. The rich, fancy kind that if you ever had a craving for you would've had to save half your paychecks.

His eyes seem to get stuck on the ribbon holding it shut, on the sliver of something soft and red poking out. You pluck it out, expecting a sticky note or card--anything but a feather the size of your index finger.

"Is this supposed to be a hint?" Katsuki only stares blankly at you, something akin to amusement warming the red of his eyes as your annoyance mounts, "do they have a pet bird? I don't think I know anyone with a parrot--except for that one guy from tech but his is blue."

Katsuki rolls his eyes, dropping his pen and shoving his chair away from his desk, “and why would he leave a hint? If he wanted you to know who he was he wouldla left a fuckin’ note on one of of ‘em.”

“I don’t know! I’m tired of not knowing,” you collapse back into your chair to stare forlornly at the ceiling, “no one in the building will admit to leaving them and we both know that they’re awful liars.” You’d tracked down nearly everyone who worked on your floor to ask about the gifts, even cornering an extremely nervous Midoriya in the elevator on your way home. None of them admitted to it. And none of them paid nearly enough attention to know where you bought your muffins or coffees from. 

“You’re overthinking.” 

You huffed, arms crossed over your chest as Katsuki returned to his paperwork. “I just don’t know who’s doing it, no one’s seemed nervous around me and I haven’t gone on a date in months.”

“Might make you less stressed,” Katsuki snips, a flash of canines when you chuck your now emptied coffee cup at his head—which he blocks easily with a laugh. 

“I’m serious, Katsuki. I’ve never had someone all that interested in me—let alone this interested. I just want to figure out who it is.”

He softens just a little, sighing and dropping the empty cup in the bin beside him. You know you’re being childish, pestering him all week over something as trivial as a potential secret admirer when you both have stacks of paperwork and endless reports.

“I’m sure you’ll find out soon.” That look’s back, something passing slowly over his face—like he’s considering his words carefully, hiding what he knows, “Valentine's day’s tomorrow—maybe he’ll show up then.”

You don’t notice anything weird until you get to your office. Oblivious with the expectant stares of your co-workers, the raptness in which they watch you hurry to your office, the way they all look at eachother. Until you’re confronted with an incredibly familiar and out of place set of eyes, “Hawks!”

He starts at the sound of your voice despite facing the door, fingers tightening around a bouquet of budding peonies and wings ruffled and restless behind him. He looks out of place in your office—large and imposing, standing awkwardly in front of your desk and feathers twitching behind him.

Pictures could never do Hawks justice. He’s always prettier, brighter—the warmth of his hair and the flush of freckles across his nose—in person. He’s larger than life, all wide smiles and crimson wings, and no amount of photographers can capture all of him as he is. Breathtaking. But now, he looks nearly skittish.

Hawks smiles at you then—nervous and disarmingly ill-practiced for someone whose job is half made up of practiced smiles—and brings the bouquet just a little closer to his chest. “I saw these while I was on patrol… it’s that time of year, isn’t it?” His voice is quiet, something soft and tender that makes you feel warm all over.

Everything hits you very suddenly—the feather, the knowing way Katsuki had behaved when questioned, every pricey gift that had been left. Hawks visited the agency all the time, visited you in your office and had taken you for coffee at the very cafe your gift came from. He’d also put the final nail in your travel mug’s coffin, knocking it off the edge of your desk the last time he’d visited you with a teasing feather. Of course it’d been him.

“You left the gifts. You’re my secret admirer,” you say dumbly, sounding quiet and childish even to yourself. 

But Hawks flushes, chin tucking into the plushness of his collar and failing to hide his wide and boyish grin, “I did—I am.” His hand—noticeably bare and warm—cups your own, transferring the bouquet of soft pinks and reds to you. “And these made me think of you when I saw them in the shop—you said peonies were your favorites.”

You flounder under the weight of his grin, the sweetness of flowers, the heady smell of his cologne, and the crispness of wind which always surrounds him. You’ve never been this close to him, always had a buffer in the form of mutual friend or coworker to soften the interaction. It’s overwhelming to be this close knowing he likes you. Knowing he pays such attention to you.

A swell of emotions overtakes you, grin so wide it aches and his own seems to mirror it. Hawks is warm, a slow gentle heat which seeps into you and melts against your skin from where his hands are skating up your arms. It’s dizzying and you find yourself leaning into him, overcome with the sudden urge to kiss him, to be even closer, to curl your hands into the softness of his collar and pull him into you.

But you don’t.

His wings twitch again behind him again, restless ruffling as he lifts a hand to rub at the nape of his neck. You track the movement with a smile—it’s oddly endearing to see him acting so human, so unlike everything you’re used to seeing of him. “Do you want to get dinner after patrol?” Golden eyes flick over your face, as if looking for any hesitance—discomfort. He doesn’t find any. “There’s this really good yakitori place down the street.”

“Sounds like a date, Kei.” His smile’s immediate, blindingly bright and so wide the corners of his eyes wrinkle.

“A date,” he echoes giddily, face flushed and smile half-concealed behind his hand.

[forever-rogue]

Hello, are you taking request?if you're not you can just ignore this, but can I request Tasm Peter Parker x gn reader, maybe a oneshot where Reader has a thing where they run their hands over Peter's skin, not necessarily in a sexual way, but more as in like reassurance, just to be reminded he's there.

Reader does this little pinches on his thighs and arms as well?

AN | It’s just a whole lot of softness, but I hope you enjoy 🥰❤️

Pairing | tasm!Peter Parker x gn!Reader

Warnings | Language

Word Count | 1.5k

Masterlist | Main | Peter

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Peter Parker was a comforting person. 

Everything about him, from his sweet smile to his warm laugh, genuine kindness and soft touches was comforting. He had a golden aura around him and that was something you’d noticed from the first day you’d met when he came into the coffeeshop you were working at. 

One thing had led to another and then another, and before you knew it you were an inseparable couple. And you wouldn’t have had it any other way.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It was a cool evening when you let yourself into Peter’s apartment. He wasn’t home yet, but had promised it wouldn’t be too late before he was home. You’d decided that you were going to make some dinner before he got back so he’d actually have a meal today. You loved everything about him, but sometimes he was so scatterbrained that it made you laugh.  Even if it wasn’t much, you’d do anything for him. 

“Oh Peter,” you smiled to yourself when you saw his half consumed cup of coffee on the counter, along with a cold piece of toast. It didn’t take long to clean everything up and put away the groceries you had brought over.

You made quick work of whipping up some soup and a salad, finishing it all up by the time Peter got home. You’d say he walked in through the door, but that would be a lie. Instead, he opened the living room window and hopped inside, landing a little less than gracefully. He pulled off the mask, his entire face lighting up with happiness when he saw you. 

“Hey sweetheart,” he made it over to you in a few strides, pulling you into a warm hug, “you smell good and so does whatever you’re making.”

“And you smell like sweat,” you teased with a kiss to his cheek, “go on and take a shower and then you can have all minestrone your stomach can handle.”

“You’re the best,” he lifted the lid off the pot and took a good whiff of it and groaned lightly. You nudged him out of the way with your hip, tutting at him softly. He took the hint, grinning as he stole a few more kisses before heading towards the shower, “I love you, I love you, I love you!”

“You’re a fool, Peter Parker,” but you were grinning to yourself like mad, warmth flooding your face at the affection he so easily displayed. 

“A fool for you!” was the last thing that you heard before he slipped into the bathroom and turned the shower on. You sighed softly, biting your lip as you shook your head.

You decided to set the table, setting a vase with fresh flowers in the center of it. Peter hadn’t noticed them yet, but they were a beautiful assortment of daisies and lilies and tulips - your favorites. He always liked to surprise you with such small gestures, you figured it was time to return the favor. 

Your instinct had been right - his happy reaction was enough to make you feel like you were standing in the brightest, golden beam of sunshine.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You were cuddled up with Peter on the couch, watching some new show you’d both been interested in on Netflix. You were leaning into Peter’s side, an arm slung around your shoulders and yours draped across his torso. Your head was resting on his chest, and you found yourself being slowly lulled to sleep by the steady beating of his heart. 

What you hadn’t realized was that you were doing what you always did, even when you were conscious of it. You were tracing over his soft, exposed skin, drawing aimless and endless shapes onto him. It had become a habit, almost a bit of a self-soothing technique. 

It wasn’t even anything sexual; you just liked the feeling of being close to him, the intimacy that flowed between the two of you. In a way, it also served as a reminder that he was there, and you weren’t alone. It gave Peter a surge of affection too, knowing you were so comfortable around him. Sometimes it even turned into playful pinches or pokes, but they were all laced with nothing but affectionate fondness. 

Peter wondered if you even knew what you were doing or if it just sort of happened without you thinking about it. Not that he minded of course, he was elated by your touch. 

“You’re doing it again,” he whispered softly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. You mumbled something incoherent before shifting off him so you could look into those big, brown eyes you loved so much. 

“What am I doin’?” you mumbled, fighting off a yawn as you smiled sheepishly at him. 

“Touching me,” he smiled softly and you quickly realized your little gaff, “you do it a lot. Just kinda touch me.”

“Oh,” you pulled back so you were no longer so you were sitting across from him, a nervous expression on your face, “sorry Peter. I didn’t realize what I was doing. It just kinda happens.”

“Honey,” you tried hiding your face beyond your hands, but he gently moved them away and smiled softly at you, “it’s nothing bad at all. I like it! Really, I do. It’s just something I’ve noticed.”

“Well,” you swallowed thickly, “apparently I like it too. I…oops?”

“Don’t apologize and don’t get all shy on me,” he gently took your face in his hands and pressed soft, gentle kisses to your forehead, cheeks, nose and finally your lips, “I love it - I love you.”

“I love you too, Pete,” you couldn’t melt but relax and almost melt into him, “so much.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Despite his reassurances that your little habit didn’t bother him, you found yourself more aware of your actions all the time. And more than that, you found that you ended up stopping yourself. Peter hadn’t noticed that anything was different or off at first, but eventually even he caught on. And, even if he didn’t want to admit it, he missed the feeling of you on him. Just as much as you enjoyed touching him, he enjoyed all your touches too. Craved them even.

And one evening, he couldn’t take it anymore. He had to know what was wrong.

“Sweetheart?” you were both getting ready for bed at his place, with you padding around his bedroom and pulling on your pajamas. Peter was already climbing into bed, a somewhat nervous expression on his face.

“Yes, my love?” you turned and gave him a small smile. Your expression dropped however when you saw the serious expression on his face, “Peter? What’s wrong?”

“I…this is going to sound silly - I know it will,” he let out a nervous breath as you padded your way over to him. You sat down on your side of the bed and  silently encouraged him to go on, “I…um, why don’t you touch me anymore?”

“What do you mean?” you looked at him with wide eyes, but you knew that you’d been caught. A nervous huff of laughter escaped your lips as you lightly shrugged.

“Ever since I pointed out that you like to touch me or whatever, you haven’t done it anymore,” he felt like a kid crying over spilt milk more than a grown man but he couldn’t help it. He just wanted your touch, “I guess I just wanna know if I did something wrong. ‘cause I kinda miss it.”

“Peter,” you let out a nervous breath as you climbed into bed next to him, “I-I…I’m sorry. I just, I really thought it was too much - like I was overwhelming or something. I didn’t want to be too much.”

“You are never too much,” he replied sweetly, making easy work of pulling you into his lap, his warm hands finding purchase on your waist, “I love everything about you. Every last look and touch and feel  -all of it. You could never be too much for me. And I guess I realized that as much as you liked doing, I liked receiving it.”

“Yeah?” you asked softly and he nodded happily, “and you’re sure it doesn’t bug you?”

“One hundred percent positive,” he took your hand in his and laced your fingers together, pressing a kiss to your knuckles, “I love you, yeah?”

“I know,” you leaned in and pressed a kiss to his lips, “I love you too, Peter Parker. So much.”

“Does that mean you’ll touch me again?” his voice was barely above a whisper but you nodded in response with a gentle smile.

“I’ll touch you whenever you want,” you were both giggling now, “and however you want, my love.”

“Good,” he sighed wistfully before pulling you back to his lips, “good.”

[headkiss]

valentine's request! what about Peter buying you flowers and chocolates but it's your first time ever that someone has done it for you?

love your work!!

peter my love <3 tysm for requesting!!! | 0.6k of fluff and bf peter

You’ve never really been a fan of Valentine’s Day. The colors used to hurt your eyes, the smell of flowers annoyingly overwhelming.

It’s sort of hard to enjoy the holiday when you never have someone to celebrate with, when you have to watch all of the happy couples and try to hide how badly you want that.

This year, it’s a bit better. This year, you have Peter.

You’re not expecting him to do anything, but simply having his company is more than enough for you. To know that you can actually think of somebody on the day full of hearts and pink and red.

You’re not expecting him to do anything but he does, because he’s the sweetest boy in the whole world (in your opinion) and he treats you better than you ever thought you could be treated.

He shows up at your door on February 14th with a bouquet of flowers and a heart-shaped box of chocolates. It’s cliché, but he makes it special with his lopsided, shy grin and blushing cheeks.

“Will you be my valentine?” He asks you as soon as you open the door.

You smile wide and spring forward into his arms, your flowers squished carelessly between your bodies, your arms tight around his neck.

“You’re crushing your flowers, baby.”

You pull away and push your hair from your face, “sorry. Thank you, they’re really pretty.”

“So?”

“So what?”

“Will you be my valentine?” He asks again.

“I thought my hug would’ve given away my answer. ‘Course I will.”

He cheers a cute little ‘yay!’

You’re convinced that Peter’s the only boy who’s ever liked you. Like, genuinely, romantically like you. Your first kiss was during a game of truth or dare, after all.

He’s the only boy who tells you you’re pretty even when you know you don’t look that great, who kisses you so softly you can feel his emotions in it. He’s certainly the only boy—only person, really—who’s ever bought you flowers.

When you reach for the flowers he pulls them back, “what are you doing?”

“I was just gonna put them in a vase…?”

“I didn’t get you flowers to make you do the work. Let me.”

“I wouldn’t know. I’ve never gotten flowers before.”

Peter can’t believe it. He doesn’t know how any boy could see you and not want to buy you flowers or chocolates or kiss you or fall in love with you. Though, he can’t deny that he’s happy to be the first to get to do these things.

“You eat the chocolates,” he hands you the box, “I’ll do the flowers. Okay?”

That doesn’t sound like a hard deal at all. You head into your kitchen, sitting at one of your stools by the small island. Peter follows, shutting your door behind him and grabbing one of your vases from a high cupboard.

You’ve never even had a use for any of those vases until now.

You sit at your counter, opening the box of chocolates and eating a couple as Peter moves around your kitchen. You watch his hands when he cuts the stems of the flowers, his arms when he lifts the water-filled vase from the sink, his smile when he puts the flowers in the vase and slides them onto the center of the island where you sit.

Peter moves to stand behind you, his chest pressed to your back, his chin perched on your shoulder.

“They’re perfect,” you say, because they are. Even a bit squished from your hug, they’re perfect.

“Mm. Happy Valentine’s.”

Peter pecks your cheek and steals one of the chocolates from the box he gave you. You decide that Valentine’s might be your new favorite holiday.

[soulreapin]

happy valentine’s day klancers here’s our favorite tragedy getting to be happy for once. xoxo soul

—

Keith wakes up to the sharp, pungent smell of roses in his nose.

That’s not always as alarming as it is right now, sometimes Lance gets flowers from the farmer’s market and sets them in delicate clear vases all over their apartment (Keith will always hate the smell of daffodils), but the farmer’s market hadn’t been in town for a number of weeks.

He sits up in bed, pushing the red flannel comforter down from where it was safely tucked up underneath his chin and looks around wildly. Their comfortable bedroom has a vase of red roses on every surface, even on the vanity tucked in the crook between the wall and the door of their ensuite bathroom.

They look fresh, vibrant and sweet in the low light.

He glances to his side and Lance’s side of the bed is noticeably empty. That should’ve been clue number one that something was up, not the smell of roses, but apparently it hadn’t been long enough since his time in the desert that waking up with his arms wrapped around himself and his knees tucked into the crook of his chin wasn’t considered abnormal yet.

A splay of his palm against the sheets tells him Lance has been up for some time. Something ugly and foreign squeezes itself around his heart, but Keith, under any circumstance, does not give himself time to figure out what it is and slides out of bed, stepping into his red lion slippers and following the apparent trail of red rose petals on their usually pristine wooden floor.

His slippers scuff on the wood as Keith trails down the short hallway into their living room, and if he thought their bedroom was bad, this is catastrophic. Floral arrangements sit large and pretty on their dining table, on their kitchen counters, on the coffee table where instead of fake fruit they set their feet in the middle.

Varying shades of red and pink and white flourish in the home Keith worked so hard to build for him and Lance, the life they hold on to with tight grips and locked elbows decorated with pretty scalloped petals and white lace keeping them all standing at attention.

On the center of their dining room table, where there are pencil marks thoroughly worn into the wood from hours doing homework for Lance to get his masters, are several fake candles set up around a red envelope, and from this distance Keith can’t tell if it’s sealed with wax or not, but he’d bet his braid that it was.

As Keith is walking over to the envelope, he panics. “What did I forget? Our anniversary isn’t until October, his birthday is in July, it’s February—oh. It’s February.”

He reaches the letter at the same time he has the realization. Today is February 14th, it’s Valentine’s Day, and Keith did not forget. There are reservations in his name tonight for their favorite mexican restaurant, the one Lance picked himself because it tasted the most like home, and he’s got a heart-shaped box of chocolates and a hand-written card tucked into the back of their closet because he knows Lance doesn’t look back there.

So he picks up the envelope with steady fingers, pops open the definite wax seal and before he can judge it, presses a kiss to the cold wax with the reminder that Lance’s careful hands had poured and pressed it into a heart shape, and slides a thin, white paper card out of the envelope.

In Lance’s scraggly, all-caps looking handwriting, he’s written, ‘good morning, keithy cat! happy valentines day. i know you freaked this morning when you saw all the flowers. mad i missed it. anyways i didn’t have to go into work like you were thinking. you’re going looking for me but because im SO GRACIOUS and an AMAZING HUSBAND ill give you your first one free, go down to nightsky florals. love, loverboy,’

Despite it all, it brings a small smile to Keith’s face. He folds the note delicately and tucks it back into the envelope, deciding to leave the battery-powered candles running.

“Damn you, Lance,” Keith mutters, but trudges back to their room and changes into simple, loose-fitting Lucky jeans and a red sweater. ‘Tis the season, and all that.

–

A small bell rings over Keith’s head as he pushes the door open to Night Sky florals. Shiro must have installed that after he went off to college, but the rest of the shop was still the same. Wooden bins of flowers sit on racks going all the way up to the ceiling, there are displays in the center with red roses and assorted bouquets on them, and greenery climbs up the sides of the racks and up the counter near the back of the room.

It’s light and homey. Keith spent a lot of time in Night Sky florals, sitting behind the counter and doing his AP Lit homework, staring daggers at To Kill a Mockingbird and scribbling down Quizlet-approved bullshit answers.

Now, Shiro is sitting on a stool behind the counter, assembling a small array of red roses, baby’s breath, and camelias. He looks up and sees Keith standing in the doorway, “Hey, kid!”

“Hi, Shiro,” Keith grumbles, smiling despite himself, skirting around the center displays to get to the counter, “How’ve you been?”

“You were at my house for dinner a week ago.” Shiro stands up and comes out from behind the counter to wrap Keith in a hug that basically breaks every rib in his body and eliminates a need for a chiropractor. “I think you know how I’ve been.”

Keith shrugs in his hold and hugs him back, “I don’t know, it might have changed in the week I haven’t seen you. Forgive me for caring about my brother.”

After a few more bone-crushing seconds, Keith is let go and allowed to expand his lungs to full capacity again. Shiro tosses over his shoulder as he turns away, “Denied. Back to the desert with you, creature.”

“You’re so odd,” Keith shakes his head and picks at a piece of stray fuzz on the sleeve of his sweater, “I was here for something. Lance sent me here. Is there something here for me?”

Shiro’s face lights up and he disappears off into the back. “He stopped by this morning! This is so cute, Keith I almost kind of hate it, I’m so glad you guys are happy together—aha! Found you, fucker.”

“I’m almost a little nervous about it,” he admits, “Like, he’s doing this for me, what if dinner and chocolates and a card isn’t enough?”

Something clatters to the ground in the back and Shiro reappears holding another red envelope with a pressed wax seal and a small, thin piece of paper. “Keith, I promise you, if you got him a pair of socks and a bag of cherry cordial Hershey’s Kisses, he’d love you forever.”

He accepts the letter and the small piece of paper, his face screwed up, “Those are absolutely disgusting, they taste like cough syrup. The peppermint ones are so much better.”

“Cough syrup aside,” Shiro comments, shaking his head like he can’t believe Keith has a correct opinion, “You know what I meant. He’s happy just having you.”

Keith sighs, a little dejectedly, and slides his thumbnail beneath the wax circle.

It reads, ‘congrats, keefers, you made it! this is the place we met for the first time. i bet you remember it. i came in to get funeral flowers for hunks robot and you insulted me various times all while giving me the most beautiful flowers i had ever seen. i thought you were beautiful too with your shitty ponytail and your silly looking apron. you had a pansy tucked into the pocket i think. ‘

“It was a rose.” Keith says, out loud, without even meaning to.

Shiro glances up from his bouquet in progress, “Congratulations?”

“No, um,” Suddenly embarrassed, Keith scratches the back of his neck, “The day I met Lance here, I had a red rose tucked into my apron. He said it was a pansy.”

“Are you blushing?” Shiro exclaims.

“Shut up, Shiro, go back to your flowers. In the time you’ve spent insulting me three more people have either died or gotten engaged and you are holding them back from their floral arrangements,” Keith sasses, looking back down at the letter.

‘whatever it was i thought it was really cute. im glad we ran into each other that day. rip hunk but if his robot hadn’t died i wouldnt have married this beefcake so who really won here (me its me i won). anyways. the little white paper shiro should’ve handed you will give you a little clue as to where to go next. love, lancelot.’

He slides the letter back into the envelope and flips the small paper over. On it are two dragons intertwined, one small and red and the other bigger, black, and missing its right wing. Keith knows this image; this image sits squarely over his spine.

“So, where are you off to next?” Shiro asks casually.

Keith glances up at Shiro, missing his right arm, and offers a small smile. “Ocean Waves Tattoo Parlor.”

“That’s right across the street from us–oh, that’s where Lance used to work when you two met, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, that’s the one. I’d better be off now. I’ll see you for dinner next Wednesday?” Keith starts to move around the store, picking flowers out of bins and collecting them in his right hand.

“Same day, same time,” Shiro confirms, “Adam’s making pasta salad, I think–what are you doing?”

Keith has gathered a full bundle of red roses, pink carnations, greenery, and forget-me-nots. He drops a handful of cash onto the counter that seems like a vague approximation of what the total should be and waves goodbye, hurrying out of the shop before Shiro can throw his money back at him or realize Keith had probably underpaid.

—

After his brief stop at Night Sky Florals, Keith went to two more places. Ocean Wave Tattoo Parlor, where Lance used to work and coincidentally where he got his back piece done in Lance’s chair, the ice cream shop where they went on their first date to receive another letter from Romelle, and even at the library on the other side of town where Keith had dedicated hours of his life to helping Lance review for a final (that he passed with flying colors).

He ends up at Fortune Coffee House, their favorite spot to grab a drink or a muffin and just eat breakfast together before they go their separate ways. Keith had stopped at home first and dug the card and chocolates out from the back of the closet, since he had a feeling he’d be seeing Lance here, as this was supposedly the last location.

The door creaks closed behind Keith as he steps into the warm air of the coffee shop, a floor-to-ceiling shelving unit cordoning off the counter from the rest of the shop. Fortune Coffee House is decorated in warm shades of brown and cream, reminiscent of Keith’s college days.

“Welcome in–Keith Akira Kogane, where have you fucking been?” Pidge yells from behind the counter, pushing her glasses up her nose.

Right. Pidge Holt, Keith and Lance’s oldest shared friend, had ended up with a job at Fortune Coffee House, and Keith had been neglecting going out for a beer with her, Hunk, and Lance. Copyediting kept him busy, what can he say?

He sighs and walks up to the counter, flowers, card, and chocolate all balancing very precariously in the crook of one arm. “Hi, Pidge.”

“Don’t hi, Pidge me, you dirty fucker. I missed you!” If she could, Keith would bet every dime he had that she’d throw her pen at him. “Your hair is longer.”

Automatically, his hand shoots up to fidget with the end of his braid. She’s right, it has gotten a little longer, the tail now dangling over his heart instead of at his collar. “I guess it is. What’s new with you?”

“I got into AST.” She says nonchalantly, looking up at Keith with a devious grin.

“That’s great—holy shit, that’s great!”

AST, or Altea State Tech, was the best college in the entire area if you wanted to work on rockets one day, which Pidge did. Her grin is so bright, it blinds him a little, but he leans over the bar and wraps his free arm around her shoulders in an awkward hug.

“I know, isn’t it?” She gushes. “I start in September in the astronautical engineering program, the one Matt did, it’s going to be so, so great!”

“You’ve gotta tell me everything once you start,” Keith says when he pulls back, shifting all of his items between arms, “Has Lance stopped in today?”

“Basically used an entire giftcard stress-drinking iced green teas. He’s been here since eleven, so not very long.” Pidge snorts and picks up her mug with some silly science joke on it, taking a sip of whatever she’s concocted now. “I think he might’ve worn a hole in the floor. Same table as usual.”

“Oh, great,” an exhale rushes out of Keith’s chest, “Can I get a—”

“No, shut up. On the house.” Pidge points at an admittedly very large sign that says, Coming in with a special someone? Your first drink is on us!

“Well, I tried. Seeya, Pidgie. Have fun at AST.” Before Keith leaves, he drops a five dollar bill into the tip jar and slides between tables to get to the second, library-like room.

Fortune Coffee House had two spaces, the actual coffee bar and a second room with tables, an assortment of armchairs, and couches for studying, worship, or just to chat quietly. Keith slips through the doorframe and sees Lance sitting in his usual armchair, tucked into the alcove created by two windows. An empty plastic cup sits on the low table behind them.

Lance looks just as beautiful as the day Keith met him. His hair is longer and curlier, better taken care of, and freckles make their homes loud and proud across his face, but the Pacific ocean that sloshes around his pupils never changed, nor did the tilt of his smile or the slight scrunch of his nose when he laughed. Keith has kissed that scrunch on several occasions, to no fault of his own.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, blue,” Keith says as he approaches Lance, pressing a kiss to the top of his head, “Got these for you.”

“Keithalicous, Keith, god, you scared me!” Lance exclaims but accepts both the kiss and the gifts he’s handed, running a gentle finger over the rose petals. “Did you get here okay?”

Keith thinks back on all the running around he’s done today and can’t tamp down the laugh. “As okay as I could’ve been. I liked the little game you sent me on. It was nice to go back to St. Taffy’s. Romelle still works there, yaknow?”

“I was just there this morning, goober.” Lance reminds him gently, setting the flowers and the chocolate on the table, working on opening the card. “I’m glad you liked it. I wasn’t sure.”

He remembers what’s written in the card. It was written late at night when Keith couldn’t sleep and instead spent precious minutes watching Lance’s sleeping face shift. “Right, yeah, ‘course, ah, I knew that.”

“Wow, did your code just stop working?” Lance jokes as he finally gets the sealed white envelope open (it was spit-sealed, Keith didn’t fuck with wax,) and pulls out the card.

Keith had found it months ago. It was a deep green and pictured a featureless white deer, standing small amongst towering trees. He found it pretty, and by the way Lance traced a reverent finger over the spiny branches of the trees, he did too.

The card itself wasn't a problem. It was what was written inside the card, or more rather, how much was written inside the card. Keith had used every available inch of space from the top edge of the right side to where the small inscription was on the left.

While Lance reads, Keith pulls at a loose thread in his sweater. It pools in his hand by the time Lance glances up at Keith and slowly folds the card shut. His crystal-clear eyes are glassy and wet with tears.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“Shut up,” Lance cuts in, “Shut all the way up. You’re such a gifted fucking writer, oh my god. That was beautiful. I love you too, Keithers.”

His hammering chest eases up and is replaced with birdsong and unbridled joy. “I’m glad. Did you…have a favorite part?”

Lance pauses, “Hm. I think it might’ve been ‘The stars could love me and the moon could cry for me, but I’d still choose you. Every time.’ Or ‘You are my north star over the ocean guiding me home and there is nowhere I would rather tilt my chin than up to your light.’ I told you, Keith, you’re a brilliant fucking writer.”

Keith doesn’t respond, but he does reach across and link Lance’s hand up with his. Lance tightens his grip, the gold metal of his rings digging into Keith’s fingers, and pulls Keith forward into a kiss that he wasn’t entirely sure was coffee shop appropriate.

“Can you cut that shit out? People read the Bible in here.” Pidge calls from the doorway.

“Sorry, Pidgie,” Lance says sheepishly, pulling away from Keith, “Thanks for the coffee.”

His mouth tastes like Lance’s strawberry Carmex and green tea. Keith accepts the hot strawberry mocha that’s handed to him and takes a sip, but he’s watching Lance like he’s the only star in the sky.

To Keith, he might as well be. There wasn’t room for much else in Keith’s night sky, anyways.

[dorthyanndrarry]

Unknown -3-

Tags: Angst, Post war deatheater prejudice, light injuries, chronic illness, post war trauma, dark magic

Suggested rating: Teen

<- Part 2 || Part 4 ->

-

Draco considered calling Libbi, one of the elves, to take his newly acquired brewing ingredients to his lab but decided against it. They had too much to do, taking care of two people and trying to keep the manor from falling apart around them. He wouldn't need the ingredients until he started brewing anyway.

Draco headed to the library, letting his feet guide him by memory. If he thought about the route he would inevitably get lost. The halls were lit only occasionally by guttering lighting spells, and the old family portraits and tapestries that had hung on the walls were scorched or torn, or missing entirely. Anything that had been on display, four-hundred-year-old vases, statues from lost civilizations, art from famous painters across Europe, all of that was gone now. This house was no longer a place he recognized.

One of the doors to the library was gone, blown to splinters in one of the dark lord's many tantrums. He had summoned most of the books from the shelves as well, gathering them in a pile in the center and threatening to burn them all. Draco was fairly certain he had only done it to see Lucius beg.

Draco went to the largest table, its wide polished oak surface covered with every potion brewing and healer book Draco had managed to summon from the pile. He shifted the books around, stacking open books on top of one another so he wouldn't lose his place. Looking for a thick volume of healing spells and potions that was used to teach trainee healers at St Mungo's. Or at least it had been a decade ago.

Draco found it under a book about the evolution of modern brewing techniques. He flipped to the section for specialized soft tissue repair spells, skimming his fingers down the parchment, from spell to spell until he found a simple spell to heal sprains. It took an extremely frustrating quarter of an hour to learn how to cast the spell in his off, uninjured, hand.

When he finally got the spell working he dropped into the nearest high-backed leather chair. He pushed his sleeves up his forearms, flexing his wrist absently, waiting for the pain and finding none.

Draco let himself slouch down in the chair, running his hands over the armrest, the dark leather smooth and cool to the touch. Somehow, he had picked his father's favourite chair without noticing. Perhaps because it had been years since he had seen his father in it. Even before being sent to Azkaban for the last time, the war hadn't been the most ideal time for reading.

Draco looked down at his arms, turning his wrist over to where his dark mark was, had been. Now it was all black. Wizarding tattooists wouldn't work with him, but muggle artists had no such compunction. To Rick, it had just been a cover-up tattoo. There was a muggle style of tattoos called black-out tattoos, bold deep blocks of black ink, sometimes in geometrical designs, sometimes with artwork within the black, sometimes just black.

Draco had opted for two matching cuffs of black on his forearms. The only direction he had given Rick was that he wanted the tops of his forearms to be decorated with flowers, especially the narcissus flower. Rick had done beautiful work, more beautiful than Draco could have ever imagined. He had made a diamond on the top of both cuffs and from that simple bold geometric shape a wild messy bouquet of flowers spilled out of the edges of the diamonds, so realistic they looked almost three-dimensional.

Draco had hoped it would help him move on, and distance himself from that horrible part of his past. But there was no way to move on. Not when no one would even give him a chance.

Draco rubbed his eyes, slumping further down in the chair. He grabbed his wand from the edge of the table and held it up, glaring at the pale unfamiliar wood. He had bought it after the war from a French wand maker of some renown. It worked well for him but it wasn't his old wand, the one he knew, grew up with, learned with.

Bitterly, Draco flicked his newly healed wrist and cast, "Accio a new life."

He hadn't expected anything, much less the sound that followed, the faint rattle of metal.

Draco rose to his feet, following the sound, though he had a feeling he knew where it was coming from. He stopped by a blank patch of wall, touching the cold stones cautiously. He had seen his father do this once but never opened it himself.

Draco removed a pin from his cloak, pricking his thumb and pressing the welling bead of blood against one particular stone, "By my blood, open."

The wall shivered and the stones folded back onto themselves into a mantle above a single shelf of books built into the wall. A large metal bar was locked in front of the books to keep them from being summoned.

Draco raised his wand and cast again, his voice hushed to a whisper, "Accio a new life."

A book in the centre of the shelf shivered and strained against the heavy iron, making it rattle faintly. The leather of its spine was dark, likely bound in thestral leather, and unmarked by either a title or author.

Draco reached out, feeling the uncomfortable prickle of dark magic on his fingertips.

"Master Draco," Libbi called from the doorway, "Dinner is served."

Draco pulled his hand away. "Yes. ...thank you. I shall be there momentarily."

Libbi bowed and apparated away.

Draco stared at the book for a few seconds longer, then quickly cast a cleaning spell to remove his blood and close the hidden bookshelf once more.

-

Tags below v💜 same as always, leave a message or reblog to get tagged in the next post

@bug-bytes thank you! this story defo has a more 🌻flowery🌼 descriptive style

@dewitty1 🥰 you are the bestest thank you so much!

thank you for reblogging😘✌ @tiny-naut , @lilyinthebreeze, @bugsbookshelf, @dcriojas8, @contemporarydiva, @reveriepi

[featheredenby]

Winner’s Guilt

This was just an excuse for me to torcher Grian.

Written by: FeatheredEnby

Word Count: 3,466

Random One Shot Fic

For the first time since the game started he’s alone, the hot desert sun beating down on him as he clutches the shirt of his now dead friend. Silent tears run down his face and bore pathways through the blood, sweat, and sand that clings to his skin. What has he just done? You killed him, the voices taunt because aren’t they good at that, at ruining what he holds dear. At the beginning of the game he hadn’t remembered anything really, just the basics of who he was and who the others were. He had been left in the world and they had given him a note to read to welcome the players to the game. But now he’s won and Scar’s blood is on his hands and this time there’s no do overs. His skin is burnt and his knuckles are bruised and his wings are changing back to their old purple and he can feel the eyes surrounding him. Their voices feel like new wounds on his skin, You destroyed everything that you loved. It’s the only thing that you’re good at. 

He knows what they want, they want to torment him to make him suffer. Alone in the world with the weight of his actions but he’s not about to give them, the creatures who have been chasing him since he left, satisfaction. He knows what he has to do. Grian lifts from the ground and takes off his poncho which he lays over Scar like a blanket. He stands up only faltering when he places his fingers to his lips and then closes Scar’s eyes. He makes his way out of the circle of cacti and over to the cliff, his wings are starting to work again but that doesn’t stop him. As he reaches the edge of the mountain he turns back to Scar and whispers, “It’s been amazing, goodbye.”

-

The pain is brief and soon after everything goes black but he isn’t dead. Maybe he is dead now that he thinks about it but he isn’t with his friends so it doesn’t matter. He opens his eyes and sees an expansion of red-orange sand in front of him and in the sky it’s only half night. The sky looks dark but only a purple sun can be seen in it, how odd. A few yards in front of him there’s a building similar to his home on monopoly mountain. Tears are starting to fall from his eyes again but there could be someone in that house, they could tell him what’s going on. So he walks forward and opens the door into a small room with a table at the center and two connecting doors. It doesn’t seem to be inhabited, it couldn’t hurt to look around. He walks over to the door on his right and opens it to see a shimmering path in a surrounding void and on one side of the path there’s a mural.

It’s stained glass which has been carefully shaped to look like Egyption hieroglyphics. And the scene that it depicts is awful. He’s there surrounded by cacti holding a dead Scar in his hands. The eyes are watching him and the shape of the sun is behind his head. He’s clutching Scar’s hands with his own and in them there is a bouquet of poppies and lilacs. Beneath the painting there’s a sign and it reads, The Sun.

Grian runs out of that room and back into the one he saw earlier he sits on the single chair at the table and makes a connection. He won and now this is where he gets to stay. He slowly calms down and stands back up. He walks over to the other door which was on his left originally. He turns the handle and finds a cozy bedroom with a large window to let in light and a large amount of sun themed decorations. It also has a pizza banner, lofted bed, and a vase of poppies and lilacs. He understands now this is the winner's void. There will never be another game so he will be the only person to ever step foot here. 

-

When they enter the second game he’s surprised that there’s a second one. However he’s even more surprised that no one else remembers but he won’t make the same mistakes as last time. Grian pushes Scar away knowing that it’s for the best. He spends the game with Timmy, Impulse, Martyn, and Mumbo. But then the game ends for him he dies and wakes up once again in the winner’s void. He sits there for days, maybe even weeks but then as he looks out of the window the sky shifts. Now instead of just a purple sun there are cyan stars and instead of just a red desert there are mossy spruce trees popping up. This can only mean one thing, someone else has won.

Grian jumps up and runs outside barely noticing the changes that have happened to the house. When he gets outside he sees that standing in front of him there is a very confused Scott. Scott looks up at him and shudders, “What happened?”

Grian stares at him, surely he remembers what just happened. Surely he remembers that he won. “It's kind of hard to explain, uhm… welcome to the winner’s void.” The man in front of him stands up shaking and without a word he walks towards the house. Grian pushes the door open for him and notices that there are now pieces of darker woods and moss on it. When he walks in he sees that there is now another door on the left side. “So,” Grian asks in a hesitant tone, “Do you want a tour around?”

“Grian,” Scott says, “Why did I forget it?”

“Forget what?”

“I forgot about the poppy and the pufferfish,” Scott cries, “and I forgot about Jimmy.”

“I think that only winners remember.” He explains.

“Oh,” Scott looks up, “I think I’ll take that tour.”

Grian slowly shows Scott around the building. When they enter the void room there’s a new mural. It’s stained glass too, but much more realistic it shows Scott standing while holding a sword straight up to the sky in one hand, a bucket with an axolotl in the other. He’s getting struck with lightning. Around him there are also eyes opening up but there are a fair amount of teal mouths too. Under the painting it reads, The Stars. They quickly move on to the new room which is another bedroom but this time it’s snug and cozy with stars decorating its walls, a queen sized bed, and a painting of a tree canopy on the ceiling. It also has a pizza banner and an aquarium with an axolotl and a pufferfish.“Hm… it’s nice here.” Scott says.

-

Grian isn’t ready for the third game either and when it happens it’s all he can do not to scream. He has a soulmate they tell him, Someone who makes you complete. And of course they pair him with Scar who he continues to push away. They manage to be the last greens but their deaths come soon after, TNT, zombies, and the warden. Grian wakes up again in his sun colored bed in the winner’s void. This time he waits out the rest of the game in the mural room. As soon as the painting forms he runs out and greets the two other people. Pearl is sitting on one of the patches of snow that now litters the ground and Scott is in his bed. With a glance at the sky he sees that the purple sun is no longer in the center and that it now shares the sky with a regular moon. Scott comes out of the building and they help Pearl up and show her around.

Her painting is in a horror film style and it shows her riding on a wolf with a yellow collar. In her hand there’s a shattered green heart with a broken string, slowly changing to yellow and then red, attached and in the other there’s a bloodied diamond sythe. The moon is at the upper center. Just like the others there are eyes opening around her in the glass. Once again there’s  a caption, The Moon. The three of them leave that room and quickly go to the new one. They show Pearl her new room which is spread out with a desk in one corner and a lofted bed with a hammock underneath, moons decorating it and a moss pet on a shelf. There’s also a plush of her dog Tilly.

When the three of them sit back down in the now three chairs in the main room she speaks up, “I’m sorry Scott.”

“It’s fine,” he says, “I already won once and this is still a half win for me. It was my fault really.”

-

The fourth time that a game occurs he half expects it. Similarly to the other games they split off and Grian once again pushes Scar away. He stays with the bad boys and when they both die he joins the nosey neighbors. He watches the other winners closely. He sees Scott team up with Martyn despite their past and when he asks why Scott he explains the reasoning, We remember it but he doesn’t, we can’t push people away for something they don’t remember. You’ve teamed with him before and you remembered it when you did. This isn’t that much different. Ha! That’s awfully poetic for someone who spent almost the entirety of the last game pushing someone away. In any case it’s too late for him to stop pushing Scar away now.

After his final death Grian wakes up in his bed again and lays in it until he hears Pearl’s footsteps in the main room. He explains to her that he’s gonna wait for the new winner in the room with the stained glass and she agrees to join him. They sit in silence and wait for a while until they hear a noise from a different room and exit. They see Scott walking into the living room with a strange look in his eyes, “He’ll be here soon.”

Just as promised soon after Scott arrived another door is added to the room and they walk outside and see a yellow version of the planet Mars in the sky. The terrain in front of the house has also gained a tropical coast lined with driftwood and coral. The building now has coral growing up the sides and intertwining with the vines. Standing near them is a very frazzled Martyn. The sight of him is enough to make Grian blood boil but he thinks about what Scott said and tries to calm down. He’s the first person to walk up, “Hello Martyn.”

“Ha! This isn’t real is it?”

“What-“

“You all died, I killed you!”

Scott steps forward, “Martyn are you-“

Martyn passes a line into hysteria and soon passes out so the three of them pick him up and slowly carry him to his new bedroom where they place him on a small bed. It’s a spacious area with an axe sitting in one corner and a pile of different headbands on a table. On the wall there is a Dogwarts banner and a broken hearts club flier. They lay him down in a bed and quietly exit the room. The trio walks across the dining room and Grian opens the door to the art room.

Inside there is yet another painting this time in a style that he can’t quite place. It depicts Martyn standing at the world’s spawn with a sword and an empty bucket. He looks like he’s going insane and in the background there’s a dead Impulse who’s bleeding out and Scott who lays in a pool of lava. Behind Martyn’s head is Mars and all of the glass has random red splatters. There are eyes in even more spaces on his and there are also yellow ears hidden around it. Logically the caption under his mural reads, Mars.

-

During the next game Grian can see even more of their influence. At the world’s spawn there is a large statue of a person with a very familiar symbol on its face. He doesn’t team up with Scar this time but he doesn’t push him away as much. Still nothing really changes, this time he teams up with Cleo and Etho. Things are alright but still it’s nothing unusual. He goes through his three lives and then he wakes up back in his bed except now his room has a photo of his last team in a frame and things from the last few games are there too. A spy glass on a shelf, a goat horn next to it, and a pair of sunglasses. When he gets up he opens the door and sees Martyn sitting with tea, he looks disheveled. To be fair he did go slightly crazy after the last game and seemed to be in a coma like state for the week that they remained in the void until going back to their respective worlds. Maybe he needs someone to talk to. Grian starts talking while pulling up a chair., “You good Martyn?”

“No.” He responds flatly.

“You want to talk about it?”

“Why…” Martyn asks, “Why are you so willing to talk to me after what happened during Third Life?”

“Up until recently you didn’t remember, I couldn’t really blame you.”

“Ren…” Martyn says under his breath, “Why wasn’t he there?”

“I’m not sure… It just happens sometimes. Like how Pearl wasn’t in Third Life, and Lizzie and Mumbo have only been in two games. Or how this was Gem’s first.”

…

“Well I’ll leave you here. I’m gonna go wait for the next mural to form.”

Grian leaves the room and walks onto the shining path in the void. He positions himself in front of the area where the next painting will form. Slowly over the next few days or so Martyn decides to join him, but for some reason neither Pearl nor Scott arrive until the last day of the game. First Scott gets there and joins them explaining that he let Gem kill him in hopes of her winning. Then a few hours later Pearl gets there, she says she died of fall damage and that the next winner should be there any moment. Just as she promised, Grian sees the mural form, it’s someone very familiar. On the new mural there stands a person with brown hair and scarred skin pressing the succeed button. He’s wearing a purple cloak with the hood over his head and the edge embroidered with poppies and lilacs. On the edges of the painting there are sunflowers growing and behind him is the secret keeper. The caption reads, The Earth.

The others have barely had time to process what this means when Grian bolts up and out of the door he dashes through the living room and out onto the new porch. He narrowly avoids running into the railing that borders the area and runs out into the sand now sprouting with sunflowers, lilacs, and poppies. Grian locks his eyes on Scar and suddenly freezes. Once again the voices taunt him, Do you really think that he wants to be around you after all that you’ve done? He doesn’t want anything to do with you anymore. Grian takes a hesitant step backwards as Scar looks up at him from where he’s sitting in a patch of grass. Then Grian turns and runs as tears start streaming from his eyes. He runs back up the stairs to the porch and back through the front down, almost running into the others. He turns straight to his left and bursts through his bedroom door, slamming it shut behind him. He flies onto his bed and hides under the blanket until his hyperventilating causes him to have to pull the blanket off of his head. He turns his back to the door and faces the wall, he knows. Scar remembers now and Grian has to try and make amends but how can he after everything that he’s put Scar through.

Knock, knock, knock. “Grian? Can I come in?” Scar asks. At Grian’s lack of response he continues talking, “It’s alright if you don’t want me to. You know it’s funny to remember all of these things now. Things make a lot more sense at least.”

…

“You don’t have to come out but if you need to talk I’ll be in my room.”

Scar leaves Grian’s room and Grian hears his footsteps fade away. He lays on top of his loft for awhile until he can’t think while being there any longer. He climbs down from his bed and leaves his room but through the window instead of the door. Grian walks over to a patch of the ground with a large amount of flowers growing in it. He lays down and breathes.

-

Scar’s hand presses the button and he’s teleported away from the secret keeper. He finds himself sitting in a patch of grass, in front of him there’s a house that resembles the one that he now remembers sharing with Grian, except for the fact that it has spruce parts with vines and coral growing on the sides. There’s an expanse of red-orange sand around him with spruce trees here and there along with patches of powdered snow and clumps of poppies, lilacs, and sunflowers growing. To his left there’s a beach covered in driftwood and dead coral. He hears running and looks up to find Grian coming towards him but then he stops with his eyes flashing a strange look in them. Grian turns away from Scar and runs off, the other winners come out of the building and help Scar up. They give him a tour of the place but nothing really stands out to him. Afterwards he walks over and knocks on Grian’s door. “Grian? Can I come in?” No response, “It’s alright if you don’t want me to. You know it’s funny to remember all of these things now. Things make a lot more sense at least.”

…

“You don’t have to come out but if you need to talk I’ll be in my room.” He walks over to his room which turns out to be a small area with a bed in one corner and a bookshelf in the other. A pizza banner hangs on the wall and on the shelf there��s a statue of Jellie, a collection of crystals, and a clock. On one wall there’s a large window with floral engravings and through it Scar sees Grian jump out of his window and go to lay down in a patch of plants. Scar leaves his room and walks over to where Grian is sitting, he sits down next to him but Grian doesn’t say anything, so Scar does. “It’s a nice view from here.”

“I guess so.”

…

“Scar, why are you so casual about this?”

“About what?”

“About all of this! About us.”

“Is there something to not be casual about?”

“Yes! I mean I just- ever since I killed you in Third Life I’ve regretted it and know you remember it and you’re just acting like nothing happened.” Grian exclaims and when Scar doesn’t say anything he continues, “And then I spent three games pushing you away and I hurt you and you don’t seem to think that much about it.”

“I don’t.”

“What.”

“I don’t think about it, it's as simple as that. Sure you made a mistake but all of us do, you took my final life in Third Life but I’m happy that you won that game. And sure you pushed me away in the other games but I don’t blame you, you were trying not to hurt me again. You just didn’t go about it in the right way.”

“Scar- I- Why?” He asks.

“Why what? Why am I forgiving you? It’s because you deserve it.”

“No I don’t, Scar I don’t deserve your forgiveness.”

He turns and looks at Grian, “Listen to me G,” Scar says as he picks up Grian’s hands, “Yes you do. I forgive you, I forgive everyone. I forgive Ren and Martyn and Joel and Etho. But I especially forgive you.”

Tears start to build in Grian’s eyes again and he turns away to wipe them, “But what if I don’t Scar? What if I just can’t forgive myself for everything that I’ve done?”

“Oh G…” Scar wraps his arm around him and Grian lays his head down on Scar’s shoulder, “You just have to let it go.”

“I- Thanks.”

[baratiddyappreciator]

Baki Cast Odd Habits

Ideas are bouncing around in my empty little noggin non-stop, so I'll keep writing them down for both your and my own enjoyment. Have some odd habits that the Baki cast have! I'll be making another post about habits that they all have towards each-other later on.

Baki:

The man stares. A lot. At everything and everyone. If he finds anything mildly interesting, everyone knows, because he'll be leaning over to stare at it, those big ol' peepers of his are wide open, and they see all.

He uses pens as drum sticks on his thigh whenever he gets bored and has more than one in his immediate reach. Does he actually know how to play drums? No, but would he be good at them? Probably.

If he can have a say in what channel the TV is turned to, it's absolutely to some nature documentary about bugs. Bro likes bugs, thinks they're neat as hell, and he'll always take the opportunity to learn more about them if that can potentially make him stronger.

Get this man a fidget toy and watch him just zone out completely. Were you saying something important? He certainly didn't notice, because he's been busy with this fidget cube for the past hour and a half staring at that one specific spot on the wall.

Smelling random shit. Seriously. If he gets bored enough, and there are enough things around him, he'll just pick them up and sniff them. Too big to pick up? He'll just lean in. It works great when you're grocery shopping, the man can pick the best fruits and veggies. Not so fun when it's, you know, an empty ceramic vase.

Kozue:

She chews on stuff, like, all the time. Gum, pens, her nails (she's trying to kick that habit don't @ her) or even mints. She's a heathen and she knows it, but that doesn't stop her from cracking a mint in half with her molars.

All those fun and weird hairstyles she did when she was younger? Yeah, that was a habit of hers too. She'd zone out while she was playing with her hair and wind up with some pretty interesting looks.

She plays with her clothes a lot too. She'll worry at the edges of her sleeves, or play with the hem of her shirt or jacket. She does it a lot even if she's not nervous, it's just a really stubborn habit of hers that doesn't stop. And it's not just her own clothes either. If she can, she'll start picking at Baki's shirts and sweaters too. All those little balls of fluff? They'll be gone by the time she's done.

That's another habit, picking at things that don't fit the established texture of an item. Is there a rough patch on her desk because the protective lacquer wore off? That patch is going to steadily get bigger and bigger because she'll pick at it.

She's picked up Baki's habit of smelling things, and it's something she catches herself doing all the time for no reason. He'll just hand her an apple and tell her to smell it, and she will, without question. Get this girl a candle collection.

Hanayama:

Destruction. That's a habit, right? Or would that be considered a hobby? He used to really like just destroying things with his grip strength as a child, and that has NOT changed in the slightest. It's less of a hobby now and more of just an outright habit.

He destroys, but he also makes things... Sometimes. He'll do it absent-mindedly, just tear an entire magazine apart just so he can twist it into little shapes and figures. Useless with a paintbrush, and also useless with any propter sculpting media, but just hand him a book or something and let him sit without entertainment for a few minutes and watch as he turns it into an art project that would make 14 year old you insane from jealousy.

Fixing little things here and there. Is that vase slightly skewed? He'll straighten it out. Same with that picture frame on the wall, and that carpet, and that stack of loose papers you meant to put away... Now that he's thinking about it, your entire bedroom is slightly off-center, and that's really bugging him.

Not knocking when he walks into a house. Like, ever. This man doesn't knock unless he absolutely has to, which is to say, if he's still able to walk on two feet and move his arms, he's not going to.

He folds towels in really particular ways. The tag needs to be facing a certain way, and it needs to be folded in a specific direction with a specific method... The man is really picky about his surroundings, he wants them to be nice.

Katsumi:

Before losing his arm, he absolutely used to bite his nails whenever he was spaced out. Both hands, he'd rip his nails off with his teeth then go in and clean them up later when he zoned back in. After losing his arm, he only ever bites the nails on his own hand. Retsu's hand gets taken care of meticulously.

He fixes his hair a lot. Like, a lot. Almost constantly unless he's fighting, he's tucking little stray hairs away so that he's all neat and clean. It applies for other people too, if he can get away with it. He definitely does it to Natsue all the time.

He stands weird as hell when it's just him and his boys. Not like, "oh, look at Katsumi, he's standing like he's never heard of posture before", nono, it's more like "what the hell are you doing?? How is that comfortable??" levels of standing weird. You ever just stood on one leg with the other one tucked up behind you? Take that and multiply it by ten.

He hums a lot. Not even particular tunes, he just hums to hum. If he's cooking, cleaning, in the shower, setting the table, anything. He's just making noises and vibing in his own little world until he remembers that he can actually just speak.

Jack:

He doesn't have a lot of super obvious habits, his mom was pretty strict on him, so if he used to bite his nails, that habit died out by the time he was like, ten for good. The only habit of his that has ever come back is his slouching, but that's more of an environmental thing at this point.

He cracks his joints a lot. There's a lot of pressure there, and he needs to relieve it somehow, otherwise he'd just be uncomfortable and stiff. Sounds like a gunshot whenever he cracks his neck, someone get this man a chiropractor.

He also has a habit of just... Staring at things. Not to the degree Baki does, where he's just blatantly looking at something. He's the opposite almost, where it's painfully obvious that he's not really looking at whatever he's staring at. Man stares straight into space quite a bit.

Diane instilled a lot of habits in him from her time in the military, so he always leaves his clothes folded neatly on the foot of his bed before he gets into the shower.

He touches his own scars a lot. Usually it's just him running a thumb over a scar on his arm when he has his arms crossed, but other times he'll rub at the scar on his throat, or the ones on either side of his face from when Pickle, you know, ate part of his face. He doesn't even realise that he does it, and if you point it out to him he'll get confused.

Kosho:

When he was younger he would pick at his nails a lot, but as he got older that habit turned into him picking at his cuticles, and then at whatever calluses formed on his hands from his training.

He also rubs at his scars, but it's something he's aware that he's doing, unlike Jack, who just doesn't process that he's doing it. Kosho has a favourite scar to rub at because it's just been there for so long that it's familiar now.

He likes to wander around and pick up little knick-knacks from around a room. Do you have a little model on your desk? He'll pick it up, look it over, then he'll put it back and move onto the next thing. His brother's office is a no-go for him because he'll make it even more of a mess than it already is.

Speaking of his brother, when they're having one of their genuine brotherly moments and not one of Kureha's smartass "I'm your big brother" moments, Kosho just starts to hip-check his older brother. Not hard, mind you, just a little bump, but it's something that he started doing when he was young and never stopped.

Kureha:

This man doesn't have many habits at all, and if he does, they're beneficial to him, because he's a petty bitch that way. He's legitimately trained himself to do these little habits so even when he's "at rest" he's still improving himself.

His worst habit, however, is when it comes to his laundry. Clean or dirty, this man puts off folding it for as long as physically possible by just ignoring its existence. Fresh load of laundry, straight out of the dryer that gets shoved right into his hands? It's like it doesn't exist, he just puts it down on the nearest surface and keeps going like it was never popped right into his grubby mits.

He used to toy with the ends of his hair a lot when he was little, but he's long grown out of that habit. If anything, now he'll just toy with a stethoscope or a pen if he has them handy.

Retsu:

This man has the most wholesome habits out there. If he starts to get bored, he doesn't immediately jump to training, he just goes for a walk. Is it kinda cloudy outside? That's fine, just go walk through a wooded area.

Hand him a flower and instead of picking at the petals, he just gently pets them. He doesn't want to damage the flower, it's just that they're so soft and delicate that he can't help but touch them and admire their natural beauty.

If a bug lands on him, he'll just sorta let it sit there and catch its breath for a minute. If it doesn't fly off on its own fast enough, he'll just take a small pause to set it down or gently blow it off of him so he doesn't crush it.

Can direct eye contact be a habit?? Because he makes it a habit to always look at the person talking to him and nod at least three times while they're talking so they know that he's listening. Direct eye contact, active listening, this man wants people to know that he's legitimately paying attention.

Doppo:

He stares at Natsue a lot. Give him the chance to sit and stare at his wife all day and he will. If he was a poet instead of a karateka, he'd write enough sonnets about her to fill the ocean with paper. He just thinks that she's beautiful.

Ever since he got his hand cut off, he rubs at his wrist occasionally. It's not like it hurts, no, the doctor did a good job putting it back on, but sometimes he just has to feel that little scar around his wrist.

We know where Katsumi got his habit of humming from, and it's this man right here. Walking around the house, cleaning the dojo, getting ready to do some early morning training, he'll just be humming along.

He developed a habit of fixing Katsumi's clothes and hair when he was younger, and that habit has kept around. If he notices that his son has a leaf on his shoulder or if his sweater drawstring is a bit loose, he'll just reach over and fix it.

Shibukawa:

He cleans his glasses a lot. Not even because they're that dirty, it's just a familiar, repetitive motion that he doesn't even realise he's doing most of the time.

He pats people a lot. Not to be demeaning or anything like that, he just does it. A quick pat on the hand or the arm, sometimes even a thigh if that's all he can reach. Just a small old person pat that they just do sometimes.

He reminds people of their youth quite a bit, and it's absolutely a habit by now. A lot of "Young man" and "youngster", but also a lot of "when I was your age" and "back when I was in my prime", even if it comes out of nowhere.

He absolutely fidgets with his fingers in his sleeves whenever he's just sitting there, chilling. It's probably something he picked up when he was younger, and he can't place where or when he started doing that, but he 100% does it.

!BONUS!

Tokugawa:

He absolutely has developed little habits with each of his fighters, he loves them so much, these men are fantastic and they all mean so much to him.

He absolutely brings little candies and snacks for Baki, even "sneaks" them to him in that little old person way of grabbing your hand and stuffing said snack into your palm. He can't help that he's so fond of his champion, who is incredibly food motivated.

He always calls Kozue "Little Miss" or "Little Lady" whenever he sees her, because while he knows she's not a fighter, and actually dislikes fighting as a whole, he does still appreciate that Baki has such a headstrong woman to take care of him.

He pats the taller fighters on the back of their calf when he walks past them so they know that he's there. He does it to Jack so often that he doesn't react to the touch itself, but if he glances down to see that it isn't Tokugawa he actually jumps a little.

He just lets himself get picked up and carried around by the fighters at this point. He's accepted that he's just small and light, and they mean it in as respectful a way as possible, they've all just gotten used to picking him up and walking off with him to go wait for a fight to start.

Definitely a social smoker, if he's sitting with Doppo and Gouki he'll light his pipe and have a little puff now and again, especially if they're having a few drinks.

[just-a-creep-babe]

If they're still open in your timezone, may I request HABIT trying to be nice to his s/o who fuckin hates him for valentines day?

I ended up combining both these requests, hope that’s alright! ^^

Also like,, apparently my love language is making breakfast because that seems to be a recurring theme when I try to write fluff :”) whoops ><

Requests are closed but commissions are open!

Check out my patreon if you’d like to support me!

Masterlist: x

Time feels different

Cooped up in this shitty apartment with that shitty demon—it has a way of making the days blur together

So you don’t realize it’s Valentine’s Day when you initially wake up

As far as you’re concerned, it might as well still be the middle of January

You get out of bed, stretch out your stiff limbs, and make your way to the kitchen, bleary-eyed and half-asleep, to get some coffee

It’s only when you notice the flower petals scattered along the ground and the cheesy red, pink and white heart-shaped decorations taped all over the apartment that you think something just might be up

Your suspicions are confirmed when you walk into the dining room kitchen and are greeted by a wide spread of your favorite breakfast foods surrounded by a plethora of love-themed decorations

An assorted mix of flowers have been lovingly placed in a vase at the center of the table, and next to it, there’s a plushie with a heart embroidered on its chest

You squint at it

Your name has been stitched onto the heart in delicate cursive writing

It makes you scoff as you shuffle to the coffee machine

It’s not the first time Habit’s done something like this, and judging by his affinity for trying to woo you, you suppose it won’t be the last time, either

But, like usual, you pretend it isn’t there—for your own mental well-being

Unfortunately, when a pair of strong arms wrap around you from behind, you know you won’t be able to ignore things for much longer

“Hello, my fine, wonderful, amazing, perfect little rabbit~” he croons out a string of sugary sweet adjectives against the nape of your neck

You try not to gag as your pour yourself a fresh cup of the pre-prepared brew

Is he trying to give you cavities?

“Did you sleep well, my little darling?~”

“Mh,” you answer with the most noncommittal leave-me-alone-I-don’t-want-to-talk-to-you hum

But he, of course, as per usual, ignores the hint

Instead, he plants a string of soft kisses along your neck, down the curve of your collarbone and around your shoulders

You hold back a shiver as he does

The feeling of his lips at your throat somehow always feels dangerous, like he’s either being territorial or he’s giving you a subtle warning

“Do you like the decorations?” he continues, “it was a fucking pain in the ass to put up”

His voice splits a little at that last part, but you try your best to ignore it

“Yeah, it’s nice,” you answer with a shrug

You make an attempt to move away to get some milk in your coffee, but his arms tense around you, and he pulls you back flush against his chest

“Do I get a thank you kiss?”

He teasingly presents his cheek to you

You don’t want to give him the satisfaction of physical affection, but you know he won’t let you go until you do

Habit always needs to get what he wants—like a spoiled toddler

So, pushing down an aggravated sigh, you lean in to press your lips to his cheek

But at the last second, he turns his head, and instead of kissing his cheek, your lips meet with his instead

Your eyes widen, a small gasp escaping you at the sudden contact

To your surprise, he doesn’t push you up against the counter, doesn’t try to pin you down and claim you like he normally would

Instead, his movements are soft, brief and chaste—the complete opposite of what he’s usually like

It’s… surprising, but not in a bad way

He releases his hold on you after a few seconds, and you’re finally free to fix yourself that coffee

You hope he doesn’t notice how flustered the small act of intimacy has gotten you

You don’t want him to think you’re coming around to him

But judging by the way he hums and chuckles, you can only imagine he does, in fact, notice

“I hope you’re hungry,” he exclaims as you pour some milk and stir your drink, “because after breakfast, I have a whole day planned ahead for the both of us. And it’s going to be extra romantic—nothing but the best for my beloved Valentine~”

Ah, Valentine’s Day

It finally clicks that there’s a reason behind all of this, and it’s not just caused by his usual shenanigans

“I’m not super hungry, actually,” you answer curtly, “and I’m… I have a bit of a headache. I think I’ll just go back to bed or something”

It’s a pathetic excuse, but you can’t think of a better one on the spot

You hope he’ll take it, but, unsurprisingly, he doesn’t

“Ah ah ah,” he tuts, and just as you’re about to scurry out of the kitchen, he steps into your way

You try not to let yourself be intimidated by him, but he folds his muscular arms over his chest and flexes, then tilts his head to the side with a wide, dangerous grin

“You’re not getting out of this one, rabbit. I’ll make sure we spend plenty of time together, and you’ll enjoy it”

Why does everything he says have to be a threat—even when he’s trying to be sweet?

“I-I don’t know, Habit. Maybe we take a rain check,” you attempt to find a way out of it one last time, but judging by the way he shakes his head, you seem very unlikely to persuade him

“Not happening, bunny. Now eat up, I wanna start the day already!”

You begrudgingly let him usher you to the table

The food is, admittedly, really good

You wonder what poor restaurant he threatened to get this done, because you know for a fact that he couldn’t make this himself

Once you finish eating with Habit making love-sick eyes at you from across the table, he asks for your hand and tells you to close your eyes

You’re hesitant to do so, but you know he won’t relent until you give in

His hands feel strong, warm and calloused as he clasps yours between them

“Now close your eyes~” he playfully coos “I’m gonna lead you to your surprise~”

You want to think of a reason not to, but when your mind comes up blank, you sigh, and do as he asks

“You better not let me trip,” you grumble as he starts guiding you god-knows where

“Let my beloved trip?” he gasps, like it’s the most absurd impossibility, “I would never”

He leads you around the apartment, makes you come to a stop, spins you around a few times, then makes you wander in circles for a few minutes

You’re dizzy and disoriented, but he keeps making jokes and funny comments, and you find yourself giggling and playing along despite your best efforts not to

“Habit, you’re not even taking me anywhere!”

Another dramatic gasp, like you’ve insulted his entire livelihood

“Not taking you anywhere?” he repeats, then scoffs, “does my little rabbit really have such little faith in me?~”

You’re about to answer, but he quickly cuts you off before you get the chance to say anything

“Actually, never mind, don’t answer that”

You try not to snort out a laugh

Despite how horrible he could be, it could be hard to resist him when he’s trying really, really hard to make you enjoy yourself

“Ah ha! Here we are!” he abruptly exclaims, coming to a stop, and you stumble into him, but he catches you before you fall

Judging by the way he holds you, something tells you he was hoping you’d fall into his arms

“Habit—“

Before he even gives you permission, you open your eyes to chastise him about letting you trip, but the sight awaiting you has you stopping mid-sentence

You recognize the room you’re in as the living room, but it’s been completely transformed

All of the furniture has been moved out, except for the tv and the couch, and a large pile of blankets has been thrown onto the couch

The walls are completely bare so that nothing interrupts the projector, which is displaying what looks to be live footage of an aquarium onto all four walls of the room

All the lights in the room are dim and blue, and as you’re taking it all in, Habit reaches for a remote, presses a button, and music you’d expect to be playing at an aquarium fills the space

It’s a breathtaking scene, and it’s all been put together so seamlessly that you’d almost swear you’re in an actual aquarium

“Habit, this is… this is beautiful”

You walk up to the wall, where the projector shows a few colourful fish swimming around

When you reach out, your hand interferes with the projector, and it’s almost like you’re holding the fish in the palm of your hands

“Yeah, you like it?”

You feel the warmth of his body against your back as he holds you against him, placing his hands around your hips and nuzzling into your neck

“Of course I like it, it’s breath-taking”

You feel his lips tilt into a smile against your skin

“I can’t take you out of the apartment for a date, so I thought I’d just bring the date to you instead. And then I thought we could make a pillow fort and watch a movie in the afternoon”

He plants a few kisses on your neck, and when you don’t say anything, too engrossed in the aquatic show in front of you, he asks, “…Does that sound good?”

For the first time since you walked into the room, you turn to face him

He looks uncharacteristically nervous, and you realize romantic gestures like this surely don’t come easily to demons

“Yeah, that sounds good,” you hum

You lean in, and press a kiss to his cheek

You don’t fail to notice the way his eyes widen in surprise before he composes himself again

“Thank you,” you smile

If the lights were any brighter, you’d notice the faint blush spreading across his cheeks and, more notably, to his ears

“Anything for my Valentine. Now—what do you say we get started on that fort?!”

[writingmochi]

soobin's spin-off teaser

cast: alt kid!soobin ✗ fashion student/designer!fem.reader

synopsis: after soobin's encounter with a person from his original timeline, he experiences doubts if he can settle in this new timeline or not. his alienation and existentialism take a spin in a new world he has to figure out himself, or if he could be courageous enough to ask you to guide him down back to the surface

genre: coming of age, slice of life, romance, drama, friends with benefits au, college/university au, angst, fluff, mature content (drug consumption and explicit smut)

word count: 489

release: out now!

a tiny message: for the people unfamiliar with the series, i recommend reading the series first to know about the world! spoilers from chapter i-vi of time wave

masterlist

after he laid back in his bed after bringing you back, his state of mind went into such a limbo that all of the thoughts in his head are about you, original timeline you, his best friend yeonjun, and his home timeline. he tried to sleep it off, but it didn’t help until something made him impulsively act.

he steps out of his bed and turns on his desk lamp to open his sketchbook, grabbing two different colored pens of black and dark blue as he sketches the visual in his mind. figures are drawn in black ink into faceless figures talking to each other, some holding bottles in hand and a few laughing “hahaha”s around the people. the center of the paper is empty as he grabs the blue pen and draws another figure that looks so different from the others. its shape is humanoid but its head is bigger than the others. he outlined the clothes and how the being is holding onto a bottle of beer, he assumed, but with the black ink. he makes a small rectangle on the chest as he writes “soobin” in it.

retreating his posture back, he sees the finished picture as he visualizes. the lone blue outline humanoid in the middle of the black figures. ever since original timeline you left, he sensed his mind was being pulled out of his body for the first time since long ago and he sees himself in a third-person view when he walks back to his room. the out-of-body experience also recaps his year-long life here in a fast pace before one word rings in his mind.

alien.

he feels like an alien. this isn’t his original home after all. this is not the world he was born in. he’s not supposed to be here.

after you mentioned what happened back in your original timeline, he can’t help but feel his heart sunken down into the fathoms of himself. on how he left so suddenly. on how he only thinks about himself as he try to rebuild his life here. how the “feeling alive in a new world” means seems more of like an illusion to him. soobin felt himself crumbling as a tear fell out of his left eye, still staring at the drawing he made in the middle of the night. cicadas sound outside of his window as he hears a fading muffled sound of people in rooms far from his. all become solemn and sound as the doubts he holds back are now crashing the dam and filling up his head like a vase.

he misses the adventures he and yeonjun had in high school. his discovery of rock music and songs his dad might listen to if he could ask him; though he was meters under the ground. he misses the experimental parts of his youth and how, even in his hardest times, he’s still living.

soobin misses home.

taglist: @raeyunshm @endzii23 @fluffyywoo @camipendragon @hiqhkey @wccycc @cha0thicpisces @y4wnjunz @yeehawnana @beansworldsstuff @kimipxl @stayzentiny @rebsmoonn @boba-beom @angelbythewindow @ttyunz

time wave taglist (i remember you all!): @rein-deer-stuffs @kookthief @papiibuprofen @soobsfairy444 @yeombin @jaemacchiatto @zgkigia @strawbrinkofdeath @moaberryjjunie @fandom-kay

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[hotchs-bitch]

Fluffy Feb Day 14- Valentine’s Day [Breaking Up Slowly]

Warnings: established relationship, Jack, PDA (scandalous), BAU reader, mentions of sex

Pairing: Hotch x blank slate Fem!Reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 941

A/N: this blurb is also considered to be part of the Breaking Up Slowly universe, set a couple of years before the events of BUS. It’s also crammed full of Easter eggs to prove it, lmk if you spot any <3 (you do not need any prior knowledge of BUS to read this)

On your second Valentine’s Day together, Aaron wakes you up by pressing approximately a thousand kisses to your face. “Good morning, sweetheart,” he whispers when your eyes flutter open, and you return his sleepy smile with one of your own. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

“Good morning,” you whisper back, giving him a kiss. “How did you sleep?”

“Very well. So well, that I’m wide awake now.” He goes back to peppering you with kisses, covering your face and neck and shoulders. When you feel the slow grind of his hips against yours, you groan quietly. “Think we’ve got a few minutes?”

“We’d better,” you mumble, but life is so unfair that Aaron has two fingers in the waistband of your underwear when the bedroom door flies open and Jack flings himself between the two of you. “Good morning, buddy!” You try your best to sound chipper, but the look you and Aaron exchange says it all. You’ll finish this later.

“Morning! Can we have pancakes?” He asks, wiggling around until Aaron wraps both arms around his son and sits up with an overdramatic groan. 

“Did you grow?” He asks Jack, who shakes his head and giggles at the question. “I think you did. You were definitely smaller yesterday.”

You lean in to kiss the top of Jack’s head. “He’s growing up to be big and strong like his dad. Alright, Jackers, are you gonna help me make breakfast while daddy gets ready for work?”

Jack nods excitedly, squirming his way right out of Aaron’s arms. He clambers off the bed and shouts, “To the kitchen!” before dashing off, and you sit up with a groan of your own. 

“I’m on breakfast duty, I guess.” You yawn dramatically, and Aaron smirks at you. “Jess is still okay to watch him tonight, right?”

“She was happy to,” your partner assures you as he gets up and starts towards the bathroom, “Just as long as we promise to give him a sibling.”

The thought of having another kid, a kid of your own, is ludicrous. That’s a conversation for a different day further down the road, so you just snort a laugh to yourself before going to meet Jack in the kitchen.

Breakfast ends up being pancakes made with red food dye, and Jack ‘helps’ you by using cookie cutters to make them into heart shapes. You all eat quickly- you and Aaron end up forgoing your morning coffee on the balcony, but that’s okay- and then it’s off to work and school for all of you.

Aaron is dropping Jack off, which means you get to the office before he does. Your desk, much to your delight and amusement, houses a bouquet of red roses in a vase with a little envelope tucked into them, a simple heart in Aaron’s crooked scrawl drawn on the front. The inside of the card is short and sweet; you wouldn’t expect anything else from your partner.

Happy Valentine’s Day. Thank you for letting me love you. Forever yours, it reads, with Aaron’s familiar signature underneath.

The card goes right into your desk folder of sticky notes and various other writings Aaron has either given or left for you, and then you turn your attention back to the vase of flowers in the center of your desk.

They’re on obvious display which is cute but takes up a lot of space, so you move them to the corner of the desk and get to work. You’re halfway through a consult when you feel a presence behind you, and the smell of cologne, coffee, and icing hits your nose a moment later.

You turn to find Aaron standing there, holding a breakfast donut and two coffees from your favourite shop. God, you love him.

“Thank you, honey.” You stand up, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. Neither of you is big on office PDA, but agents are just starting to trickle in and it is Valentine's Day, so exceptions are bound to be made. “You’re spoiling me.”

“You never let me do it any other day,” Aaron retorts, a smile playing on his lips. “Speaking of, I was thinking that we could go out for dinner tonight. You can wear that new dress and give me a chance to show you off. ”

“Cupid’s on the clock already,” Emily comments as she passes by the two of you on the way to her desk, and you ignore her save for a quiet laugh at her comment.

Aaron hands you a coffee cup, one of his eyebrows raised in question as though he thinks you’ll say no to his dinner offer, and you raise yours in return. “On one condition.”

Your donut is set on your desk, and Aaron narrows his eyes as he passes his coffee cup to his other hand and pulls you in by the waist. “Name your terms,” he murmurs, and you know that he’s just trying to be quiet and keep from drawing attention to the two of you, but he’s being so sexy that it’s taking everything in you not to kiss him.

“Hmm… you have to be my Valentine.” You wiggle your eyebrows at him, and Aaron tilts his head back to laugh. It’s beautiful, vulnerable in the way his eyes crinkle and his neck exposes itself and his laugh touches your ears. It’s gorgeous, and it’s something you wish the bullpen saw more of; your favourite side of him.

“Sweetheart,” he says once he’s finished laughing, a final chuckle slipping through his lips, “I’ll be your Valentine as long as you’ll have me, and for a few years after that, too.”

You hope he’s right.

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