#truly so grateful 💕💕✨✨✨

[j00stkl31n]

Y’all are the best I haven’t even had this blog for a week 😭😭😭✨✨✨

[greenleaf777]

Elriel Month | Peace and Quiet

There is such tenderness, intimacy, and safety when you can understand the person you love without words. For this prompt we imagined the relief that Azriel and Elain would feel as they fall into bed together at the end of the day after enjoying the extroverted company of the inner circle, so they can cling to each other for peace and quiet just like our High Lady foretold.

We were all so excited to get the opportunity to work with @kotikomori on this piece and she truly gave us a little peek into a slice of Elriel heaven!! We are so grateful @kotikomori! 💕💕

🎨Art by: @kotikomori

✨Commissioned by: me, @theseersgarden , @saraannereads and @emilyondemand

📚Characters belong to: @sarahjmaas

Likes, shares, saves, and comments are encouraged and appreciated!

Please do not repost without permission

@elriel-month

[infinitydivine]

PAC: The Soulmate's Songbook

Masterlist -Paid Readings-Paid Readings Reviews-PAC Readings

→This reading is for entertainment purposes

Choose your pile based on intuition. Take what resonates with you and leave the rest. If you feel this reading isn’t for you, select another pile. If it still doesn't resonate, then this may not be your reading. There are three piles.

Pile1- Pile 2- Pile 3

Hello Pile 1~~~Messages from your Soulmate

→My love for you is a journey that will never end.

→I am so excited for what is to come for us in the future.

→I am sending you clues and hints through music, do you get them?

→You are the missing piece of my puzzle and rhythm to my song.

→You are my muse, everything I do depends on you.

→Every sunrise reminds me of the time that someday I will meet you and we will see the sunrise together.

→You really like the coffee, huh? It's okay I will make coffee for you every day.

→In the world of chaos, you are my calm. Your thoughts make me stable and sane in my bluest moments.

→ Whenever I see a couple, I imagine us...our future together.

→ Tomorrow isn't a promise they say but I will make our every moment count. I just cannot wait to meet you and say I LOVE YOU.

Will you be my Valentine, forever?

Songs- Harleys in Hawaii by Katty Perry, It's Impossible by Perry Como, Wildest dreams by Taylor Swift, I know I love you by TXT, and Kab Tujhe by K.K.& Shreya Ghosal.

All the best :)

If you liked the reading, you can book a personal reading with me or you could leave a tip for the reader.

Hello Pile 2~~~Messages from your Soulmate

→ I never knew happiness would ever find me the way you found me.

→I never knew what being truly happy meant until I met you.

→You are the best most miraculous thing that ever happened to me.

→It's an honor to meet you and know you.

→With you by my side, every day is an adventure and every dream is reachable.

→ You are not just my lover, my spouse, or person. You are the missing part of my soul that I have been searching for all along.

→I can't wait to give you flowers every day and I promise you will find a flower every day by your bedside when you wake up.

→My heart beats a little faster and I smile a lot brighter whenever I think about you, about us.

→I will cherish every moment we share- big or small. Being with you is all I need.

→I never thought I could fall so deeply for someone until I met/found you. I just cannot wait to meet you and say I LOVE YOU.

Are you ready to be my Valentine, Forever?

Songs- So Beautiful by DPR IAN, Boyfriend by Justin Beiber, Die with a Smile by Bruno Mars&Lady Gaga, Rainy Days by V, Paris in the Rain by Lauv.

All the best :)

If you liked the reading, you can book a personal reading with me or you could leave a tip for the reader

Hello Pile 3~~~Messages from your Soulmate

→You inspire me to be a better person in every way.

→ I thank the almighty for sending you to me. I will be forever grateful to the Universe and The stars.

→Thank you for loving me unconditionally.

→I can't wait to grow old with you and create memories that will last a lifetime. The next generations will remember our love for each other.

→You are the missing piece of my life's puzzle. The sunshine in my day that keeps me warm.

→You are the reason my heart sings with joy.

→Falling in love with you was the best decision I ever made in my whole damm life.

→You make me believe in the happily ever after.

→I am insanely lucky to have you in my life. You are a gift.

→My love for you is a journey that never ends and I am so excited to explore every mile with you. I LOVE YOU.

So is it a YES for being my Valentine, Forever?

Songs- Come Back to Me by RM, Haareya by Arijit Singh, What Makes You Beautiful by One Direction, Locked out of Heaven by Bruno Mars and Be Mine by Ofenbach.

All the best :)

If you liked the reading, you can book a personal reading with me or you could leave a tip for the reader

Thank you and Love,

Infinity ✨

Divider credits to-@sweetmelodygraphics 💕

[wardingshout]

Hi Livi!

I finally gathered the courage to send something to your ask box. There’s so much I want to say, but I'm not very good at expressing myself, so if my words seem a bit jumbled, I hope you don't mind.

I started using Tumblr a little over a year ago, and I remember stumbling upon one of your artworks after searching the “alttp” tag. I was so incredibly happy and excited — I loved it immediately, especially because it’s so rare to see ALTTP-related art where I’m from.

Back then, I didn’t pay much attention to who the artist was and just kept browsing. But over time, I realized that so many of the amazing pieces I loved were actually created by you! Honestly, your art is breathtaking. The way you portray Link and Zelda outside of the game’s narrative makes them feel so real. Your inspiration and creativity seem endless.

Your use of bright, intricate, and emotionally resonant colors fills every piece with a sense of story — sometimes with a gentle sadness, sometimes with tiny, charming interactions that make me smile.

I remember seeing that you draw on a particular site, and I tried using it too. It was really hard 😣 and made me admire your work even more — I’m amazed at how you manage to create such rich, detailed pieces on such a tiny canvas and with such limited tools.

Your compositions and the way you frame your scenes are incredible too — the perspectives you use, whether it's looking up, down, or close-up, show such skill and depth. I’ve been obsessed with your artwork for a long time 🥺🥺

And the outfits you design for Link and Zelda — they’re absolutely beautiful. They’re so different from the classic green tunic, yet they feel *exactly* like something the characters would wear. I don’t think any language could fully express how much I love your costume designs. Please allow me to scream for a moment here.

There’s still so much I want to say, but now that I’m writing, I find myself at a loss for words. So I’ll just say this: you are truly an amazing artist. Your work is astonishing and deeply captivating.

Also, I drew some of your versions of Link and Zelda — I hope you’ll like them! (Screaming again, their designs are just too beautiful 😭😭)

VIOLET HI!!! 💕💕💕

I'm sorry I have no idea where to start here, I'm feeling so overwhelmed in the best way ever! I just barely managed to load this ask before leaving the locker room at work yesterday and ended up hiding there until everyone else left bc I didn't want them to see my cry haha����,,

I don't think there's any beginning or end to how emotional this got me and to how honoured I feel to have my art described in such a way;; this is!! absolutely everything I've ever dreamed of reaching with my art, so having someone else putting it into words just from looking at is so incredible !!!! ;v; even if it's hard to feel happy about my own stuff it seems like I can still portray the things I want to, this makes me so happy 🥹💕💕

and especially because a lot of this is stuff I absolutely love about your art too!!!! you have such an incredible way of creating soft, yet somber atmospheres and your compositions always come off so intentional and interesting !!! the way you blend so many different colours into everything looks both natural and interesting and it's one of my absolute favourite things from art !! ✨✨✨

Seeing you back on tegaki was such a joy too !!! ;v; even if it ended up feeling difficult, I was so excited to see you there and getting to check your posts for new comments brought me so much joy !!!! I always wanted to send you more comments but got so caught up in the excitement of you posting smth yourself I got distracted from it too often...

in general I'm always so excited to see you post new art !!! and super grateful we get to see a lot of your sketches lately too !!!! you art has such a consistent and pretty style and always comes off so smooth and effortless and interesting and it has inspired me so much !!! 💖💖💖🥹💕

I'm feeling a bit lost for words since there's So much I want to say it's difficult to phrase it properly. but you bringing up fun tegaki memories reminded me of the most fun way to thank people! (I tried bringing out the classic palette too!)

and since I also really love the way you draw them too and I was sad I missed maid day (yet again) them !!

I've been absolutely losing my mind over the way you drew my little guys!!!!!!!;; I've been looking at them so much already they almost feel ingrained into my brain, to the point I almost forgot they were real !!! there's no way I could properly thank you for all of this; the amazing art, the incredibly nice words and all the art inspiration you bring me by sharing your work!!! I'm feeling so so lucky and again so so honoured ;v; 💖💖💖💕💖💕

[lyn31]

SERIOUSLY LOVE your writing so much omg! i discovered your acc by your zayne pregnancy fic and i was wondering if you can make zayne and mc had a soft lovemaking (two rounds) while zayne's being gentle? 😆

Ahh yess ofc, most people find me through that series 😂 Which honestly perfect, love that series! 🫶🏻😩 I did not expect to write the whole thing ahahaha but anyway! Here's a gentle love making, ah well, it's not two round technically, I mean you can count it as two, but it just the perfect cut! I thought if I continue it'll drag on too much but there's plenty of gentleness going around 👀

OH! And... I kinda make it like a fill in blank for Fragrant Possession card ;-; Dw, there's not much spoiler if you didn't read the story yet! Just letting you know! Let me know what you think!💕

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

Zayne Fragrant Possession (Celebration)

Summary

After the storm of battle and the glow of recognition, you let Zayne peel back every layer of your tension with steady hands and quieter love, until what’s left between you is nothing but warmth, want, and the ache of being truly seen.

Ao3 link

My Masterlist ✨

Notes

Pairing: Zayne x MC/Reader Smut, Gentle sex, a lot of kissing, a lot of touching, body worshipping, multiple position, oral, banter! :D This is basically a fill in blank fic, where after MC did the speech, they eat at the restaurant and back to their hotel room, celebrating on their own :) Enjoy!

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The hotel room door clicks softly shut behind you.

Zayne doesn’t speak at first. He just stands there for a beat, eyes tracing the length of you—your tousled hair, the way his coat still hangs loose over your dress, the tiny scratches on your skin left behind from the earlier battle. You’re halfway between disheveled and radiant, and he looks at you like you're the most breathtaking thing he's ever seen.

Then, a slow exhale. A quiet, unshakable kind of awe.

“You were incredible today,” he says simply. But the words land heavy, warm. His voice doesn’t tremble, but something in his gaze gives him away completely.

You let out a soft laugh, dropping your purse onto the dresser. “You say that like I didn’t just get dirt on my tights.”

“And still accepted an award like royalty.” He steps closer, undoing the first button of the coat draped over your shoulders.

Your lips twitch. “Well, without your coat I would look like a battle-hardened maiden.”

“While that’s not really proper for a formal event, I think the world would be grateful to see it.”

You laugh, swatting his shoulder playfully. “You’re ridiculous.”

He smiles, the corners of his mouth lifting as he slides the coat down your arms with careful hands. “Hmm. Miss Hunter of the Year.”

You murmur, “Zayne…” but he’s already hanging the coat and returning to you. His fingers graze your cheekbone as he tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear, gentler than the night deserves.

“Congratulations again,” he says quietly. “I’m proud of you. More than I can say.”

And it’s not the words that unravel you—it’s the way he says them, low and reverent, like you didn’t just win some award, like you built the stars he looks at every night.

You don’t say anything back right away. Just stand there in front of him, heartbeat slow and full, feeling the space between you shrink to nothing.

The night outside is quiet. The city doesn’t know what you gave up to be here. But he does.

He leans in.

It’s not rushed or sudden—just the natural conclusion of everything unsaid. His lips brush yours like he’s still asking permission, and you meet him there with a softness that nearly undoes you both. Slow. Warm. A kiss that speaks in quiet gratitude and long-held admiration.

Your hands find the collar of his shirt, and his find your waist—familiar now. You press your forehead to his as the kiss breaks, breathing against his mouth.

“Shower,” you murmur, almost dreamily.

He hums in agreement, the sound low in his throat, almost amused. His hands slide a little lower, then around, and with practiced ease, he lifts you effortlessly into his arms. There’s no urgency to it—only care, only the certainty that you’ll be safe wherever he carries you.

You wrap your arms around his shoulders, cheek against his collarbone as he walks toward the bathroom, the soft shuffle of footsteps on hotel carpet the only sound around you.

The light in the bathroom is muted when he switches it on—golden and quiet, like the rest of the night. He sets you down with a gentleness that makes your chest ache and turns the water on, testing the temperature with his hand before adjusting it to something warm and steady.

Neither of you rushes. You undress in that slow, unhurried silence of people who know every inch of each other. He reaches for the clasp at the back of your dress without a word, fingers ghosting against your skin as he lowers the zipper. Your clothes fall away between soft glances, and when he undresses, it’s with the same quiet calm—never showy, never impatient.

The moment you step beneath the stream of water, your shoulders finally drop. Heat sinks into your skin, loosening the last remnants of tension.

Zayne steps in behind you a second later, hands grazing your waist as he closes the distance again. He doesn’t touch with hunger—this time he touches to soothe. He takes the shampoo from the hotel shelf and begins working it into your hair, fingers slow and sure, massaging your scalp with delicate pressure. The water runs down your back while his thumbs circle behind your ears, and you can’t help the sound you make—barely a sigh, but one that draws a small smile from him.

“You always melt when I do this,” he murmurs.

“Feels good,” you say softly. “Feels like you.”

He rinses your hair with the same care, cupping water in his palms to shield your eyes. Then he works his way down—your shoulders, arms, sides—rinsing and washing, never lingering too long, but never moving too fast either. The silence stretches, comfortable and golden.

You return the favor in kind—lathering soap in your hands and trailing it down the long line of his back. You feel the way he exhales when your fingers skim his spine. He leans just enough into your touch that you know he needed it too.

By the time you finish rinsing each other, the bathroom is thick with steam, warm enough to soften the mirrors and blur the corners of the world. Your skin glows with heat, flushed from both the shower and the way his hands had moved over you.

You glance at him, cheeks damp, hair dripping in soft waves against your neck. There’s a pause—just long enough to feel it—and then Zayne reaches up, his knuckles brushing beneath your chin, tipping your face toward him with a feather light touch.

“Better?” he asks, voice low and steady.

You nod. “Much.”

Zayne hums, then reaches for a towel, unfolding it with quiet care. The moment the fabric touches your skin, it’s warm and plush, a gentle contrast to the cool air outside the shower.

He starts at your shoulders, patting you in slow, deliberate passes. Between motions, his lips find your temple. Then the bridge of your nose. The curve of your cheek.

You stand still beneath the weight of it—of him—not because you don’t want to move, but because you don’t need to. He lowers the towel slowly, brushing it along your arms, down your sides. Every pass feels less like drying and more like memorizing.

When the towel reaches your waist, his mouth finds yours—unhurried, tender, the kind of kiss that makes your fingers curl against his shoulder, still slick with water. You breathe a laugh against his lips.

“I don’t think this is very efficient, Dr. Zayne.”

His mouth slips down to your jaw, then lower, his breath cool against the heat of your collarbone. “Multitasking,” he murmurs, “has a proven success rate.”

You snort softly but don’t argue. Not when his hands feel this careful. Not when his lips make you forget what dry even feels like.

But when the towel skims down your legs, you reach behind him, grabbing the other towel and lightly tapping it against his shoulder. He pauses, glancing up. You arch a brow.

“Pretty sure I’m dry enough,” you say with a teasing tilt of your head. “Your turn.”

Zayne straightens at your nudge, and you step in close, mirroring what he did moments ago—starting at his shoulders, gently patting the water away from his chest, then his waist.

He watches you quietly, his expression unreadable, but you feel the shift in him when you rise on your toes to press a kiss to his jaw. Another to the hollow beneath his ear. Then one more, soft and certain, against his lips.

You both pause when you're done, towel draped over the edge of the sink, robes slipped over clean skin, damp hair tucked behind your ears.

His hands settle at your waist again, light and certain.

“Definitely the efficient way,” he says, tone calm as ever. “We should always dry off like this.”

You laugh, warmth bubbling in your chest.

Zayne pulls away just enough to reach for the small hotel hairdryer, his brows lifting in a silent question. You sigh, dramatically.

“Do I have to?” you murmur, though you’re already turning around, letting your damp hair fall loose over the towel draped across your shoulders.

“You’ll catch a cold,” he replies, deadpan.

“And here I thought you were warming me up just fine a second ago.”

A soft huff of laughter escapes him, but he says nothing at first—just plugs in the dryer and gently begins to run his fingers through your hair, loosening the strands before the hum of warm air starts. The heat wraps around your scalp, and his hand never leaves you, guiding each section with quiet patience.

You close your eyes.

It’s not the heat that makes you melt—it’s the way his fingers never leave your hair, always grounding you, gentle and steady. Each motion is unhurried, reverent in its own quiet way. You feel his breath near your ear as he shifts angles, the towel still draped loosely over your shoulders.

“This part always makes me sleepy,” you murmur, lips curving faintly.

He makes a low sound of acknowledgment—something between a hum and a chuckle—but says nothing, continuing with the same careful attention.

“Is this my reward for winning an award?” you ask lightly.

“No,” he says, his voice softer now, more certain. “This is just a reward for being by my side.”

You swallow, caught off guard by how easily he says it—like it’s obvious. Like your place beside him is something valuable, not questioned.

Then, after a pause, he adds. “But now that you mention it... We should do something more tomorrow. A proper celebration.”

The dryer clicks off.

You turn slowly to face him again, hair still a little damp at the ends but no longer dripping. Zayne sets the dryer down, his hand slides to the edge of the towel, pulling it off from your shoulder as he meets your gaze. The air between you shifts again—closer now. Warmer. His hands then find your hips through the robe’s fabric.

“Tomorrow?” you echo, your voice quieting.

“Mhm. Tonight’s for us.”

Your fingers drift up to the knot at his robe, tugging it loose as you lean in. He meets you halfway—his mouth brushing yours in a kiss that starts soft but lingers, deepens. His hands curl at your waist. Yours slip under the lapel of his robe. There’s nothing rushed about it, just heat gathering between touches, weightless and slow.

By the time you part for breath, your noses are still brushing, and your lips are slick from the kiss. His hand cups the side of your neck, thumb stroking lightly just below your jaw.

You whisper, “Should we…?”

His gaze is already on your mouth when he answers, “Come here,” and kisses you again—this time guiding you slowly, deliberately toward the bed.

The bed is cool beneath you when you sink onto it, the mattress shifting gently under your weight. Zayne follows you down without breaking the kiss, one hand braced beside your head while the other finds your thigh beneath the robe—skin to skin, cool, warm and searching. His fingers trail up slowly, following the curve until his palm rests just beneath the hem, the pads of his fingers pressing lightly into your skin.

Your breath stutters when he deepens the kiss. No hunger unchecked. Just that same careful reverence he’s held you with all night.

Your hands move to the lapels of his robe yet again, fingertips slipping past the fabric to feel the steady rise and fall of his chest. You part the robe a little more, easing it back over his shoulders until it hangs loose, framing the strong line of his body. Your palms splay across his skin, taking in the heat of him, the softness just beneath the muscle. He exhales softly against your mouth, like the touch alone is enough to ground him.

His hand slides higher along your thigh, the heel of his palm brushing the curve of your hip as he leans closer. The robes part further with every movement, but neither of you bother to shrug them off. There’s something more intimate in the layers—how they slip and shift just enough to reveal skin, but not all at once. Like the night is meant to be savored, not conquered.

You tilt your head back just a little, letting your lips part beneath his—and he leans in with a kiss that turns deeper now—less tentative, more claiming. His teeth graze your lower lip before he draws back just enough to whisper, “Tell me if you want more.”

Your breath catches—he’s close, warm, waiting. The ache between your thighs throbs at the edge of restraint.

“Yes,” you breathe, almost too soft to hear, but he hears it. Feels it in the way your hands curl into his robe, tugging him closer.

His mouth finds your jaw, then the edge of your throat, cool and open. You gasp when his hand cups under your knee and slowly draws your leg over his hip, aligning you more closely. The heat between you flares as your bodies press together through the thinning layers of fabric.

“You feel…” he starts, but trails off, voice roughened, lips against the hollow of your throat.

“Like yours?” you murmur, teasing—but the sentiment hums low in your chest, dangerously real.

He pulls back just enough to look at you, to see your face beneath the dim light. The answer is already there in his eyes, but he says it anyway, because it’s the way both of you like it.

“Always.”

His hand moves beneath the robe again, fingertips trailing a path across your waist, your stomach, then down again to your thigh, brushing it slowly. Your own hands mirror him—exploring, learning him again in the hush between kisses. Every sigh, every shift, every quiet press of mouth to skin adds to the slow rhythm you’re building, one touch at a time.

Then his hand slides higher, finding the edge of your robe and drawing it open a little more. You feel the fabric fall away from your chest as his mouth moves lower—past your collarbone, the slope of your shoulder, until his lips brush the swell of your breast. He doesn’t rush. Doesn’t dive in. He parts his mouth over your skin, kissing softly around it, never quite where you ache for him yet.

You gasp as his hand move to touch the other where his mouth is not, kneading you gently through the loosened robe. Your body arches into his palm without thinking, and he responds with a soft exhale, lips dragging over the skin he’s not yet fully bared.

The coolness of his touch spreads under your skin like ice melting slowly beneath sunlight—his fingers stroking in slow, deliberate circles, coaxing out every reaction.

Still, his mouth lingers close but avoids the center.

He’s savoring you, utterly focused, as if every inch of you deserves its own moment.

His other hand is moving too, sliding along your inner thigh, just shy of where you need him. The sensation is maddening—the heat, the teasing pressure that makes your breath hitch and your hips shift without thought. You can feel the anticipation building, centered deep between your legs, pulsing and insistent.

Your hands find his chest—his robe already fallen halfway down his shoulders, giving you room to touch further. Your fingers trace the lines of muscle across his chest. With every slight movement, his breath hitches, then finally up to his shoulder where you clutch gently, grounding yourself.

Then his hand finally moves, slipping the rest of your robe aside so your breast is fully bare beneath his palm. The contrast of his skin on yours makes your breath stutter. He cups you directly now, and this time when he rubs his thumb over your nipple, you let out a soft, broken sound.

Zayne hums against your skin like approving the sound you make.

His fingers roll and flick the sensitive peak, gentle but purposeful, coaxing another gasp from you. But his mouth still doesn’t move to meet it—still kisses just around, just beside, as if teasing you is its own form of reverence.

“Zayne—” your voice catches in your throat, heavy with want.

Your hips shift again, arching toward the hand that still lingers at your thigh. Your body is already aching, already pulsing beneath every careful stroke.

He feels it—the way you move against him, the way your thighs tremble slightly under his touch.

And finally, his hand glides up, cupping your bare core under the fabric. You moan then, head tipping back into the pillow as the heat flares. He doesn’t go straight to it—doesn’t press too deep yet—but slides his fingers along the seam of your entrance, slow and patient.

Your grip tightens on his back, fingers curling into his bare shoulder.

He exhales again, slower this time, like he’s feeling it all with you. Then he leans up slightly, brushing his lips across your cheek as his fingers tease just barely inside the edge of your folds.

“You’re so warm…” he murmurs, low and quiet like a confession meant only for you. “And already so ready…”

His voice sends a fresh ripple of heat down your spine.

And his fingers—circling the entrance in maddening, deliberate strokes—leave you trembling with want.

His mouth trails downward again, brushing just beneath your breast before returning to it with a lingering kiss. The coolness of his breath and the drag of his lips make you shiver beneath him, and still his fingers stay at your entrance, applying only the lightest pressure—enough to keep you aware of his presence there, but not enough to ease the ache.

Then you feel it—his lips parting around your nipple as he sucks gently, tongue flicking over the sensitive peak in slow, savoring strokes. The sound you make is almost a whimper, hips rolling toward his hand instinctively.

His free hand is just as worshipful—cupping your other breast, thumb circling the nipple there, kneading softly in time with his mouth.

The combination pulls soft gasps from you with every motion. Your back arches, offering him more, chasing the pressure he still keeps just out of reach. And Zayne… he enjoy it thoroughly. Every flick of his tongue, every graze of his teeth is deliberate. Measured. Like he wants to know how each one makes you breathe.

He finally gives your breast one last suck and a stroke of his tongue, then lifts his head slowly. His hand still teases your breast, but his mouth starts moving lower again.

You feel his breath first—tracing the path down your stomach, then the light drag of his lips as he leaves open kisses along the curve of your belly, just above the soft edge of your robe.

With each kiss, he parts the fabric more, exposing more of you to the warm night air and to him. There’s reverence in it—no rush, no hurry, just the quiet focus of someone who’s utterly devoted to the woman beneath him.

Sometimes, it still stuns you—how gently he touches you when he could so easily take. Like he’s not just savoring you, but committing every part of you to memory. You wonder if he knows how safe he makes you feel. How easy it is to fall for him like this.

And when he reaches the very top of your thighs, he pauses just so he can look at you.

Then he leans in.

Soft. Slow. Like he’s greeting you.

You jolt at the sensation, a shuddering breath caught in your throat as your fingers tighten in the sheets.

Then he brings his hands to your thighs—gently parting your fold—before carefully spreading you with his fingers. You feel exposed, flushed, but the way he looks at you...

His eyes lift to yours, gaze steady, reverent.

And then—he licks you.

Long, slow, deliberate. Like he’s tasting something exquisite. His mouth is still cool and wet, tongue gliding from your entrance upward, catching along your folds. You moan, hips lifting in response, but his hands on your thighs keep you grounded—gentle, but firm.

His nose brushes your clit as he focuses on your entrance again, tongue teasing just inside, and the brush of pressure there sends your head falling back with a gasp.

“Zayne…” you breathe, voice shaking. One hand finds his hair, fingers threading into the soft strands, holding on.

He groans quietly into you—pleased—and the vibration of it makes you tremble. He licks deeper this time, tongue sliding into your entrance, slow but sure, like he’s not just doing this to make you feel good, but it’s also make him feel good.

His nose nudges your clit again, not quite an accident, but he doesn’t stay there—just a tease, another layer of the delicious torment he’s weaving.

The slick sounds of his mouth on you grow louder as your arousal builds, and the heat in your core starts to throb with growing need.

You feel it when his tongue pushes deeper, just enough to make your breath catch again, and when his mouth pulls back slightly, his fingers replace it—slick and warm with your arousal. He doesn’t say anything, just watches you with those calm, hungry eyes as his finger circles your entrance, then slowly slides inside.

The gentle stretch still makes your hips jerk.

“Fuck—Zayne—” you pant, eyes fluttering shut.

He hums again, and you feel it in your bones.

He slides the finger in all the way, slow and careful, letting you feel every inch of it. Then he pulls back just enough to add another—pressing in with a steady rhythm, stretching you around him. Your walls flutter at the intrusion, already slick, already clenching as if trying to pull him deeper.

“Still so tight,” he murmurs against your inner thigh, voice soft, but thick with heat. “Even after how wet you are for me…”

His tongue returns to your clit, finally closing around it with a slow suck that draws a broken moan from your lips. The motion is deliberate, focused—just like the rhythm of his fingers, thrusting slowly, curling slightly inside you.

He’s not rushing. Zayne devours you like he’s trying to memorize every part of your taste, every sound you make, every twitch of your body beneath his touch.

You can barely breathe through it. His fingers thrust deeper, angled just right to brush against the spot inside you that makes your toes curl—and the same moment, his tongue flicks hard across your clit, making your hips buck up into his mouth.

His grip on your thighs tightens to keep you grounded while he builds you higher.

“You like that,” he says quietly against you, his breath teasing your sensitive flesh. “You always do…”

Then he flattens his tongue, pressing it firm to your clit as his fingers thrust harder—still slow, still controlled, but with more purpose now. The slick sounds of him fucking you with his fingers, the wet flick of his mouth, the way he keeps watching your face even as he works you apart—it’s all too much.

Your thighs tremble again, starting to close around his head as your orgasm threatens, but he holds you open, patient and unrelenting.

“Zayne—ah—don’t stop—”

He groans again, a low rumble against your skin, and the vibrations ripple straight through your core. His fingers curl deeper, finding that spot again and again, each stroke timed with the pressure of his mouth. And this time, when his lips close around your clit, he sucks harder—tongue circling in tight, slow spirals that make your eyes roll back.

You’re close. Too close. It hits you in waves—heat and pressure and pleasure mounting into something sharp and overwhelming.

Your fingers twist tighter in his hair. Your back arches. Your legs shake.

And then you break.

The orgasm hits like a crash—sharp, clenching waves pulsing through your core as your hips jolt up into his mouth. You cry out his name, breathless and broken, voice catching as pleasure floods through you. But he doesn’t stop.

He keeps his tongue on you, keeps his fingers moving inside you through every pulse, drawing it out, dragging you through every last ripple until you collapse back against the bed, panting, thighs trembling.

Only then—only when your body begins to twitch with over sensitivity—does he finally ease off, fingers slipping out of you with a slick sound. He kisses your thigh once, then again, slower this time, soothing.

You’re still catching your breath when he moves up your body, mouth trailing wet kisses up your skin. His hand brushes along your side, grounding you gently as he settles above you.

And when he finally leans in to kiss you—his mouth still tasting of you—it’s soft yet deep.

Like he’s claiming you and worshiping you all at once.

Your hand finds the back of his neck as he kisses you, fingers threading into the damp strands there. He’s still panting faintly from how long he kept his mouth on you—still reverent, still hungry.

And then you feel it.

His arousal, hard and heavy, pressed against your stomach. The warmth of him, the way it twitches slightly against your skin when your hand slides lower—wrapping around his cock with a slow stroke.

Zayne shudders above you.

His breath stutters, lashes fluttering briefly before his eyes meet yours again, darker now. He just watches you as your hand moves, slow and curious, stroking him from base to tip.

You feel everything. The weight, the heat, the faint slickness from his own arousal. He’s thick, pulsing in your palm, and the way his hips twitch subtly against your hand makes you smile.

His mouth finds yours again, less urgent now—just deep and slow, tongue brushing yours.

When he finally pulls back, his voice is a low rasp against your lips. “I’ll get the condom.”

He starts to shift off the bed, reaching to the nightstand, but you’re already sitting up.

Your fingers beat him from opening the foil, snatching it from his finger.

Zayne blinks as you tear it open with your teeth.

You shoot him a wink. “I got this.”

And then—you lower your mouth on him.

He groans, hands bracing on the mattress as he watches you. Watches the way your lips wrap around the head of his cock, how your mouth moves with deliberate slowness, sliding the condom down with your tongue and then your hands, unhurried and intentional, like you’re enjoying every second.

When it’s finally on, you sit up again, tossing the wrapper aside and wiping your mouth with the lick of your tongue. You straddle him easily, settling your thighs on either side of his hips.

“I can’t do it fully tonight,” you murmur, hands on his chest, pushing him down slowly and glancing down with a grin. “Because someone’s eager.”

Zayne actually snorts at that, quiet and amused. But he doesn’t argue.

Because it’s true.

He wants to be inside you—wants it in a way that makes his body tremble beneath your hands—but not with urgency. Just with need. A calm, aching desire that burns steady and slow.

You guide him to your entrance, lining him up with a roll of your hips, and his breath catches as the head of his cock nudges against your slick folds.

Then—slowly—you sink down.

It’s a stretch, thick and full, but the wet heat of your body welcomes him, inch by inch, until he’s seated deep inside you. You both moan—soft, shared—and he grips your hips, head falling back against the pillow as you pulse around him.

He groans, almost reverently when you clench around him.

You start to move. Not fast, not hard—just a slow, dragging grind of your hips as he thrusts gently up to meet you. The rhythm is lazy, unhurried, but deep. Every roll of your bodies pulls a new sound from your throat, from his mouth—a quiet symphony of pleasure and heat.

His hands roam—sliding up your sides, cupping your breasts again, thumbs brushing your nipples, making you shudder, until they’re swollen and sensitive. Your own hands explore in return, dragging through his hair, brushing his jaw, pressing to the firm planes of his chest.

You’re both touching constantly—palms and mouths and fingertips everywhere, like you can’t get close enough. He thrusts into you slow and deep, each roll of his hips stretching you just enough to keep you gasping, but it never becomes frantic. It’s all heat. Intimacy. Reverence.

“God,” you whisper, leaning down to kiss his neck. “You feel so good…”

Zayne’s hands slide down your back, smoothing over the curve of your spine. “So do you,” he murmurs, voice breathless, raw. “You’re perfect…”

He thrusts again, his hips lifting into yours as he whispers your name—low and tender against your skin.

Your fingers slip down between your bodies, finding your clit, and Zayne groans softly as he watches your hand move. His own reaches up, gripping your free hand now—twining your fingers with his as your bodies move together.

That simple contact—your joined hands, his palm firm against yours—grounds you in a different way.

He meets you with each movement, slow thrusts that fill you perfectly—stretching, pressing, dragging against every sensitive spot inside you like he knows your body already, like he was made to fit just right.

You tighten around him as your pleasure coils again, faster this time. More insistent. Every deep stroke of his cock inside you pushes you closer to the edge, especially with his eyes locked on yours like that, watching every twitch of your mouth, every flutter of your lashes.

He lifts his hips with more purpose now, still slow, still deep, but the weight behind each thrust becomes more deliberate. He’s chasing it too—his need rising just under the surface, trembling through his arms, his breath.

“Come for me,” he whispers, voice low and coaxing, and the heat of it rushes through you like a wave. “Let me feel it…”

Your breath catches as the release finally crashes over you—your body clenching hard around him, back arching as you cry out his name. Your grip tightens in his hand, anchoring yourself in that shared moment, in the pleasure ripping through you like a slow, burning flood.

Zayne follows a second later with a rough groan, his hips stuttering as he comes inside you, buried deep. He doesn’t let go of your hand—his fingers tighten almost desperately, holding on as the pleasure wracks him, pulse after pulse drawn from him while your body still flutters around his.

You collapse forward slowly, your chest pressed to his, breath mingling with his as you both tremble together—still joined, still locked in that grip that hasn’t eased.

Zayne turns his face toward yours, kissing you softly now, like he’s still lost in you—slow and open-mouthed, lips brushing between uneven breaths—when you feel him begin to pull out.

His movements are careful, deliberate, and you whimper faintly at the loss of him inside you. His cock slides out of you with a wet sound. He peels the condom off with a flick of his fingers as he shifts to the edge of the bed with a heavy breath.

He turns his head slightly, preparing to toss it—

Then pauses. Because your foot has lifted, toes curling deliberately around the softening base of his cock.

Zayne jolts under the touch, eyes flicking to yours—surprised, then amused, then desire again as his cock begins to twitch back to life beneath the teasing press of your foot.

Already, he’s half-hard again. Persistent. Responsive. Like his body refuses to believe it’s over.

You lick your lips slowly, your thighs falling open as you meet his gaze with a sly tilt of your head.

“Want to go again, boyfriend?”

His expression doesn’t even twitch for a second—and then, slowly, he shakes his head with that faint, amused exhale. But his eyes… they’re heat and yes and please all at once.

He reaches for another condom with calm precision, but there’s nothing casual in the way he crawls toward you—his body sliding between your parted legs, positioning himself right in front of your entrance like gravity’s pulling him there.

He rolls the condom on quickly, his hands practiced, then brings them to yours—lacing your fingers together and pressing both your arms out to the sides, gently pinning you down beneath him.

Then he pushes in.

It’s slow. Deep. He stretches you again with that aching drag, and both of you groan softly—like your bodies can’t quite believe you’re doing this again so soon, but neither of you would dream of stopping.

Zayne lowers himself fully, chest to chest, mouth brushing yours as his hips settle in the cradle of your thighs.

This time he moves even slower.

Every thrust is deliberate, the pace unhurried, savoring every ripple of heat between you. He’s not chasing the release this time—he’s sinking into you like he wants to stay just like that.

His lips find yours again, soft and wet, kissing you through the rhythm of his hips. His hands tighten around yours just slightly with each thrust—like he needs the anchor of your body just as badly as you need his.

You moan into his mouth as his cock presses deeper, your walls fluttering around him, still sensitive, but wanting more. Always more.

He groans softly in return, the sound vibrating against your lips.

Neither of you speaks now.

There’s only touch—his cock moving inside you, your bodies sliding together in the dim light, his mouth pressed to yours like a seal.

And his hands—still tangled with yours, holding you in place as he makes love to you like it’s the only thing in the world he needs.

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

The room is quiet now, except for the low hum of the night and the even softer rustle of blankets shifting as you both curl closer under them. You’re in your pajamas—finally—your hair still a little messy, your skin carrying the aftershocks of everything that just happened. Zayne’s chest rises slowly beneath your cheek, and his arm is draped around your back, fingers absently tracing patterns across your spine.

You're half-asleep, but not quite. Drowsy. Safe. Content.

“I can’t tell if I like you teasing or being gentle better…” you murmur, voice slurred from the edge of sleep.

Zayne’s brow lifts faintly, the amused breath he lets out brushing the top of your head. “I thought you liked me being rough? Isn't that what you keep asking me to do?”

You swat his chest with the back of your hand. “That’s what I’m saying! You still find a way to torture me even when you’re being gentle! I can’t understand it at all!”

He chuckles softly, then leans down to kiss your head—lips warm, lingering.

“That just means we’re perfect together,” he murmurs, low and certain.

You go still for a second, your lips twitching.

“Awww,” you whine, lifting your head just slightly to peer at him. “Well when you put it that way I can’t really make a joke about it.”

“You always find a way,” Zayne says smoothly, the corner of his mouth tugging up just a bit. “Miss Rookie of the Year.”

You blink at him, snorting at how he still goes on about the award you won, before you pursed your lips as you actually think about it. “Like maybe how I adapt to your way of doing things? Like when we fight side by side? Wait a minute—that’s not a joke, that’s just the truth…”

You groan and drop your head dramatically to his chest, muffling your face against his shirt.

Zayne lets out a quiet laugh, one hand sliding up to cradle the back of your head like he’s tucking you into him. You feel the press of another kiss at your temple.

“You’re the big spoon tonight,” you grumble against his chest.

“Yes, darling,” he replies instantly—so calm, so amused.

You groan again, but this time it sounds more like surrender than protest. He kisses your head one last time, his body warm and still, and the steady rhythm of his breathing lulls you under with him, tangled together and too in love to care whose legs are where.

Sleep pulls you both down, quiet and close. Perfectly matched.

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

Notes

I mean I have to? No? I def have to ahahaha But anyway! Hope you enjoy this! They're too sweet for this world 🫶🏻😩 Another card's fic is over here! Zayne - Immediate Disorder Extended (Mature) Zayne - Immediate Disorder Extended Extra (Smut)

[rivendellwatch]

🌙✨🧸 That’s a wrap on Cozy Cuddle Week! 🧸✨🌙

Hello hello my dearest snugglers, fluff-masters, and creators of serotonin and softness!!!!💖

As of yesterday, the AO3 collection for Cozy Cuddle Week has officially closed — and I just want to say, with all the warmth of a Hobbit hearthfire and the devotion of a particularly clingy elvish steward (you know who), thank you. Truly!!!!!��

This event has been… a gift. I don’t say that lightly. In the midst of everything going on in fandom — the drama, the messiness, the algorithm noise — this week felt like a pause. A moment to breathe. A soft place to land, full of laughter, sweetness, and tenderness, wrapped in warm blankets and soft kisses and found families falling asleep next to one another. 💫

You made that happen. Each of you.🫂

Whether you posted a fic, a sketch, a silly meme, a reblog, a lovely comment, or simply read and supported others quietly from the shadows — thank you. It all mattered. Every bit of it added to the feeling of shared coziness and joy that this week brought.🧡

I want to especially thank the people who took a chance on this little prompt list, or tried something new — who maybe never shared their work before, or felt nervous doing fluff, or hadn’t written in a while. You’re incredibly brave and I’m so proud of you. And to all the fluff week veterans who returned with open arms, I loved seeing your names and tags pop up again like familiar faces at a favorite café!!!☕

Every piece — every cuddle, every blanket fort, every accidental bed-sharing moment — was a joy. I read so many works where I actually felt myself physically relax, like my body exhaled reading the gentleness you poured into your stories and art. What a beautiful thing to share.

This event was also a breath of fresh air for me personally. Organizing these cozy chaos weeks has been a balm for my heart, and I’m so grateful to everyone who made it such a joyful experience. Your kindness in the DMs, your feedback, your excitement, your tag rambles — it all meant more than I can say. Thank you for being so lovely.

A huge thank you to: @greenleaf4stuff , @varda-star-queen , @lullaby-lilies , @iwanderbecauseimlost , @koyaildoesstuff , @mysteriesunfoldthemselves , @wowstrawberrycow , @thephoenixandthecrocodile , @elvendreamsfics , @ffigwit , @everthestormbraver , @adarssuggestionbox , @lya-dustin , @finchinmoria , @xximmortalkissxx , @hobbitinnumenor , @nekroticism , @finrodsketchbook , @hikarielizabethbloom , @eowyn7023 , @tulacastrej , @aroacebaggins , @tentative-tolkienite for joining, and all the other amazing peeps sharing and cheering on everyone!!!!💖💖💖

You guys rocked and I cannot thank you enough for joining us on this fluff-filled adventure, bringing such a breath of fresh air in this fandom!!!💖💖💖💖💖💖💖

Our beloved AO3 collection has officially reached 26 WORKS, peeps!!! 🥹💖 That’s 26 cozy, fluffy, snuggly, sweet little bundles of joy all tucked together in one warm archive corner — I’m absolutely melting. Thank you all for sharing your softness and creativity so generously!! 🧸💤✨

Here is the link to get access to our collection besties!!!

For those who want to share thoughts, there's also an optional feedback form down below — feel free to fill it out if you’d like, it helps for future events (and also warms my lil event-runner heart 💕)!

🍑 SPICE WEEK 🍑 will be coming later (the 16th of June and we'll have 10 DAYS). Prepare yourselves. Fluff week was the gentle kiss on the forehead. Spice week is... well. You’ll see 😌🔥

But until then: Take care of yourselves. Be gentle with your hearts. Keep creating, even if just for yourself. You deserve softness, and so much more.

Thank you again for making this event magical. I’m sending you all a thousand virtual hugs, mugs of hot cocoa, and very clingy fantasy characters who want to nap in your lap.

With love and warm blankets,

Bucky aka @rivendellwatch

[jade-green-butterfly]

Johnalthea time!💚💘🌌 ...With a dash of tradition~💝🐇

It's almost Easter, and now that spring is in the air, so is still the love~💕💐 I wanted to take the perfect opportunity to share two wonderful Johnalthea commissions with you all - one being an adorable Valentine YCH done by dear @alixmuffinart✨️❤️and the other being a real lovable Easter moment by the lovely @klaudia96art❤️😊 I am truly IN LOVE with these precious pieces~!💖😍Especially with how absolutely darling Amalthea looks in her super cute Easter Bunny outfit (and hot in John's eyes, having found his own special Easter Bunny, hehe~🤭) and how really sweet Johnalthea look in the romantic YCH~💗😚Every part looks just amazing!🥰

Thank-you both kindly so much, Klaudia and Alix!💞🫂💞It was a real pleasure to commission you two during Valentine's and Easter time, bring my sweet ship to life with both traditions~💓🤩 You two did such a stunning job and I am ever so grateful~✨😁👍🏻Keep up the awesome work, both of you!🫶🏻😘💕xoxo.

*~Reblogs are also deeply appreciated as well, so please do reblog as well as like! Thank-you kindly!~*

Amalthea The Space Troll (c) @jade-green-butterfly (Me~!)

John Dory (c) DreamWorks Trolls/DreamWorks Animation Space Trolls (c) @x-elyssa-x💜 Johnalthea Commissions (c) @klaudia96art & @alixmuffinart

[we-dont-talk-about-potato-nonono]

✨💕✨thankyou✨💕✨

Request by @we-dont-talk-about-potato-nonono

Sorry about the late and that it is not the best-,-but I hope you like it 💙

[hunieday]

Osaka Sougo - Drama Collection vol.2 Rabbit Chat

Please note that I am not a professional translator and I'm only doing this to share the side materials to those who cannot access them, if you notice any mistakes please let me know nicely. Enjoy!

Osaka Sougo: Thank you for your hard work, Momo-san. And thank you so much for going out of your way to host a delicious catering lunch for us today despite your busy schedule.

Osaka Sougo: Thanks to you, I was able to focus even more during the shoot. I am once again very grateful. I will continue to do my best not to hold anyone back, so I look forward to your continued support.

Momo: Sougo~~ 😆🫶🫶 Thanks for the lovely rabbichat!!!!

Osaka Sougo: It’s nothing at all! You found it lovely…!?

Momo: It’s so Sougo-like that I could practically hear your voice through the screen, which is super lovely 🥺💕

Momo: Not only that, but you thanked me in person on set so you really didn’t have to go out of your way to send a message! ✨ I just wanted to enjoy some good food with you guys so don’t worry about it‼🥰

Osaka Sougo: Thank you for your kind words…! I wanted to properly express my gratitude, that’s why I wrote you a message.

Osaka Sougo: I think your rabbichats are wonderful as well. I can hear Momo-san's tender heart and gorgeous voice permeate through the letters.

Momo: Wonderful…? 🥺 ba-dum…

Osaka Sougo: Yes! It’s one of your many charms.

Momo: Does that mean you like me…? 🥺

Osaka Sougo: It might be a bit presumptuous of me to say, but yes!

Momo: Yaaay~~! 🫶 Momo-chan and Yuki will sandwich you and turn you all squishy! 💚💜🩷

Osaka Sougo: S-squishy…!? 

Osaka Sougo: I truly appreciate your thoughtfulness…! I’ll make sure to train my core regularly so that I can withstand any unexpected situations (being turned into a squishy mess for example).

Momo: Unexpected situations LMAOOO

Osaka Sougo: I respect Re:vale a lot after all…

Momo: You’re too cute, Sougo 🤩✨ I’m glad we could chat since our break times didn’t overlap today (*´艸｀) 💕

Momo: We mainly had Chinese food for today’s catering, what did you like the most? 🍜

Osaka Sougo: Everything was delicious, but if I had to choose one dish, I’d say the tantan soup (1)! Being able to choose the level of spiciness was fun.

Momo: Yours was super red though!? lolol

Osaka Sougo: Yes, I’d say it was about the same color as Scarlatto Veneziano.

Momo: What the hell my eyes just glazed over trying to read that lolololol

Osaka Sougo: It’s a reddish-orange! It may even resemble the color of a fully ripe persimmon.

Momo: Hoho…! Glad the catering was up to your tastes! The spice handle went from 1 to 10 🫣

Osaka Sougo: Yes…! I went with level 8.

Momo: 8!?!?!?

Momo: Wouldn’t your lips swell up from the spice and turn puffy!? 😭 Your character’s gonna end up being “that guy with the lip filler” instead !?!? 😭😭

Osaka Sougo: Oh, I was totally fine! I actually toned the level down since I have a secret code with Mitsuki-san.

Momo: Dude you keep dropping some crazy lines lololol what’s you guys’ secret code!?

Osaka Sougo: When Mitsuki-san asks, “How spicy is it?” I promised to reply, “Just a little!” especially when I’m eating outside, so we don’t alarm those around us.

Momo: What the hell, that’s so cute!!! It’s like a call-and-response (2)! I’m totally asking you “How spicy?” next time 🤩

Osaka Sougo: Yes…! And I will respond with “Just a little!”

Momo: I’m kinda sad that the shoot’s gonna be over soon~~! 😭

Osaka Sougo: Likewise, I really loved the set... The atmosphere you create is so warm, Momo-san.

Osaka Sougo: I apologize for the mistake I caused on the first day, the reshoot must’ve been an inconvenience…

Momo: Oh youuuu, stop worrying about that! 🥺 If you’re gonna say that, then I messed up a bunch too! You had to carry wine for so long because I kept reshooting lolol

Osaka Sougo: No, that situation was out of your control since your costume didn’t flow the way it was supposed to…!

Momo: Yup! Making it look like I was floating was much harder than I thought it’d be! 🥺 

Momo: That’s the scene where your character, who works at the hotel the ghost lives in as a waiter, yells out “Why do you keep interrupting me during work!? You cruel ghost, get out!” right? 🤔

Osaka Sougo: Yes… I’m not used to yelling, so my voice cracked a little… It’s an important scene too. The ghost was interested in my character, but I couldn’t stand the pranks he pulled on a daily basis anymore and I exploded…

Momo: But I really loved your acting! You were blushing right up to your ears, your hands were shaking, and so was your voice. You exploded with emotion.

Momo: That’s why I got more into my own role than usual, I think! I ended up responding to the waiter’s anger with extra sass, and I went, “What do you want me to do to pass time then, you stupid brat!” ✨

Osaka Sougo: Thank you very much… Your playful and mischievous tone was also very wonderful, Momo-san! You embody every role you play so well…!

Momo: Ehehe, thanks 🤗 I really like this role since it’s cute! 

Momo: It’s so endearing how he ghost actually wants to be friends with the waiter, but he just can’t be honest about it 🥺❤

Osaka Sougo: He’s a bit of a tsundere, isn’t he. If only he asked the waiter to play with him, things wouldn’t have escalated to that degree…

Momo: They keep misunderstanding each otherrrrrr! I totally relaaaaate!!!

Osaka Sougo: You and Yuki-san always seem to understand each other perfectly, but it sounds like you’ve had moments like that too…

Momo: Yeah, for sure! All the time actually. Yuki does so many things I can’t do, I can’t even begin to grasp some of it. I want to support him too, but sometimes what I think is helpful isn’t what he actually needs… and vice versa.

Momo: Most of the time, it’s just us trying to do something good for each other that backfires LOL

Osaka Sougo: I understand………………………….

Momo: you relate in a way huh LOL

Osaka Sougo: May I ask, how do you resolve those misunderstandings…?

Momo: We argue to the bitter end! We talk!

Osaka Sougo: You argue!? Is that okay?!

Momo: Of course! Leaving things that way is actually the worst! Though I’ve only learnt that from spending so many years with Yuki so I can’t be too high and mighty about it

Momo: We fight because we wanna understand each other, share what we feel, and cherish one another

Osaka Sougo: I see how it is

Osaka Sougo: Tamaki-kun and I cherish each other too, right?

Momo: Yup! You can lose sight of something that obvious when you spend so much time with someone.

Momo: Thanks, Sougo! Talking to you made me reflect on myself and how much I wanna keep working hard, together with Yuki.

Osaka Sougo: Oh no, I’m the one who should be thanking you…! at first I only wanted to thank you, but I’m grateful you listened to me for this long!

Momo:

Momo: Yuki’s stuck composing something right now so I didn’t wanna bother him, but I’ll reach out and make sure he gets some fresh air. Even if I have to drag him out. 😤

Osaka Sougo: I see, then I’ll try to reach out to Tamaki-kun even when he’s busy with choreography or school. I wanna talk to him about work even more!

Momo: That’s awesome 😤 😤 Let’s catch up again soon, Sougo! 😤

Osaka Sougo: Yes…! I’m looking forward to it 😤

Tantan soup: Tantanmen soup, inspired by the Chinese Sichuan Dandan noodles. A spicy and creamy noodles dish. (via kitchenstories)

Call and response: a form of interaction between a speaker and an audience in which the speaker's statements ("calls") are punctuated by responses from the listeners. This form is also used in music, where it falls under the general category of antiphony. (via wikipedia)

[khaleesiie]

💕 𝐚 𝐠𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭. 💕

if you know me, you know that 1. words of affirmation are my love language, 2. i'm ridiculously emotional and 3. i love celebrating my friends. so i suppose in honor of galentine's day, this is exactly that .💖

i truly, from the bottom of my lil heart, appreciate every single on of you, you bring so much into my life, so much joy & light (but mostly angst), and i'm so thankful that i get to create such amazing stories with every single one of you.

sending you all my love, admiration and gratitude your way today (and always) !

♡  little pieces of my heart — words would never do justice to just how much you mean to me and how grateful i am to have you in our little corner of the internet. you're the absolute best. we have a thounsand threads together and somehow i still want more. we've created the most beautiful ships, and you truly make writing so effortless. i adore every single one of you and i can't wait for everything (mostly angst) we're yet to write. i will be sending each one of you a very special galentine's message so i don't make this post even longer and cheesier than it is. 💗

@cocained @glcssed @finalepic @whorifics @trackmind @pinkpcny @invcntions @ofdisregard @isolatednights ♡   my sweetest pookies — even if we don't have a thousand threads (yet), you and every single one of our threads means so much to me. you're all so incredibly talented. thank you for putting up with me and my muses. 💕

@swtsours @gracland @sunstvne @bedevileds @deryapinar @jawbrkrs @heavencalled @cardigaen @sunliights @ghcststory @driftse @softdrabbles @cursedcupids @decadentscribe @inkshadow @beesofter @heroexxs @nocturnv @ohmylcve @neptunc

♡ i'm like dropping hints that i want (more) threads with you . — consider this my not so subtle way of saying that i adore your writing, and everything you bring into my dash. wether we haven't together yet or it's been a while, i'd love to change that.✨ @virghosun @bittcrsuite @slumpcd @emotionlcss @cheatcodcs @rosesonbreeze @stayliquid @cravemore @coverdmouths @freedcm @ontops @highfm @angelsdvsts @intimaecys @angelvings @gamecfchance @desirespeaks @graveston3s @sickhearted @myplutoisms @loveshard @marisola @silkchvffon

[putschki1969]

2025/04/14 Blog post by Wakana 『Wakana Spring Live 2025〜Little Dance〜』ありがとうございました！！＼＼\\٩( 'ω' )و //／／〜ヒューリックホール東京ともののけ姫〜

❗This is Fan Club EXCLUSIVE content❗ ❗PERSONAL USE ONLY❗ ❗Do NOT SHARE on other sites❗ ❗Join her FAN CLUB! Check out my detailed TUTORIAL ❗

Thank You 『Wakana Spring Live 2025〜Little Dance〜』！！＼＼\\٩( 'ω' )و //／／〜Hulic Hall Tokyo and Princess Mononoke〜

Here's a picture taken just after the end of my concert "Wakana Spring Live 2025 ~Little Dance~" from the other day! 🎤♪

Lots of minor happenings😂 There were many times when I felt quite nervous, but…everyone in the audience was so kind, understanding and warm so I am truly grateful for that😭✨The sense of unity throughout the entire venue was incredible, I was truly moved😭✨Once again, thank you so much to everyone‼ ︎😿✨

The name "Little Dance" that I chose as title for the concert contains the meaning of small joys and little moments of happiness, everything you feel when spring arrives. There are gentle and warm moments in the smallest things, the happiness I feel when I experience these moments is like sunlight filtering through the trees in spring. At times like that, my heart is dancing a little😊I think that if we can always find such moments for ourselves, they will bring us great joy. I want to always cherish the spirit of "Little Dance" and never forget that feeling☺️Hulic Hall Tokyo was a wonderful venue😊

It was originally a movie theater (formerly TOHO Cinemas Nichigeki)🎥In 2018, it closed after a 85-year history and was repuposed as Hulic Hall Tokyo. I found out later that the last film shown was "Princess Mononoke"😂😂I had no idea about that!! I wish I had known about it before the concert. But I feel a strange connection now and I am super happy that I sang "Princess Mononoke" as part of my setlist. 😊

All right, now let's introduce my dresses. First up is the dress for the main performance 👗💕The big flower print on the white fabric is very cute 😍🌸I also like the hairstyle ♡ It's a little sparkly, and I had two ponytail-like braids for a change ✌️

During the encore, I wore this orange dress! This one is so fluffy and cute ♡ Look at my big smile!☺️☺️🌟

Here's a series of photos of us forming our regular circle before the show started 📸 (We did it twice because the tempo was off just like last year *laughs*)

↓An excellent photo where everyone is putting their whole body into it and expressing their emotions (Grand Prize 🏅) Here we look like we are already finished even though the show hasn't even started yet 😂Some beautifully dynamic photos 😂

It was a very nice venue 😊Thank you everyone!! !!! !!!

Some time later...My wish… came true…!! !!! !!! Sushizanmai‼️＼＼\٩( 'ω' )و //／／🍣🍣🍣🍣💕

Toro Taku and a 3-piece seared set (fatty tuna, salmon, and flounder)🍣It was the best…😭♡I had the best time…😭♡ I did a big dance, not a little one🎶🕺💃🕺💃🎶

So, that's it for today! Until next time~☆( '▽')/

＊＊＊Wakana＊＊＊

『Wakana Spring Live 2025 ～Little Dance～』 Live Photos

Source

[anika-ann]

Back and Forth - Epilogue pt.1

Epilogue 1/2 - Always Forward

Type: series; agent!reader, inhuman!reader

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader    Word Count: 8700

Chapter summary:  In which you're settling into a new normal... and something beautiful might be blossoming between you and Steve, even as your past experience is holding you back.

Series masterlist

Warnings: mention of dampened senses and vomitting, mentions of unhealthy relationship with pain, mention of PTSD and flashbacks, mentions of bruises and bleeding (brief and no-graphic), Steve being a menace, allusions to messed-up self-image and self-worth, language✨ Please, let me know any time if you think I missed any!

A/N: ALWAYS MIND THE WARNINGS; dividers by @firefly-graphics 💕; moodboard is for the vibes and does not necessarily reflect reader’s appearance

A/N2: hello it's me, bringing this story back from the void. If you follow on AO3, you have seen this posted... in October. My dummy self forgot to post it here. Enjoy and let know if you did? 😇

You were not counting your days of recovery. You weren’t.

You fully understood healing was a process, even if sped up by Steve’s accelerated healing ability still gracing your body and stitching up your cells in the speed of considerably delayed light.

The determination to not count days was most certainly not at all connected to the fact that every day of your enhanced healing meant keeping a stolen miracle from its rightful owner and as a consequence, keeping a hero with capital H from ordinary people, keeping him from saving lives due to his own slowed recovery. However, the delay was not on you only – it had been a mutual decision to which you had come to together.

Healing simply took time; you got that. On a rational level, you understood it all perfectly.

Thus, you weren’t counting days.

You were counting hours instead. And there were too many to your liking.

You wished you had felt better when the switch finally happened, after your tissue had completely healed and you had started physical therapy, but it was not that simple. You did feel better in a way, of course, but you exchanged one little hell for another.

As much as you had tried to prepare for the moment, even talking to Steve about how much of a shock it had been for him to wake up after the first switch, no amount of readiness made you truly ready and it wasn’t just the fear of the Kree artifact possibly having another surprise in stock for you.

It wasn’t just the healing factor either; it was the senses.

You hadn’t had a single doubt you’d feel relieved and grateful later on – and you did now – but suddenly losing the beyond-perfect vision and hearing might have as well render you completely blind and deaf. Even after days, you caught yourself squinting, listening to music that appeared to always play too low even when on max, eating food with enough spice to send Clint – Clint, of all people – running away with tears, because to you it tasted completely bland otherwise. You physically had to stop yourself from spraying yourself with perfume once more because you didn’t seem to smell it at all.

Steve was no better. He was good at rolling with the punches and he did have an experience with suddenly gaining enhanced senses already; but he did admit, with reluctance, that he had thrown up directly after the switch, the assault on his senses too overwhelming; mumbling something about a hangover and Asgardian liquor. Not that you heard him at the time; because you had practically turned deaf.

Yay Kree! said no one, ever.

There were positives too, however; even with dampened senses, the moment you were able to project for the first time again, you were taken by relief so intense you felt tears sting in your eyes, your chest so tight and yet so light you could fly. You were far from a perfect person, from a perfect Inhuman; but god, had you never been happier to be yourself than at that moment.

Steve reached the peak of his recovery not two days after, his range of motion and strength returning as if he had never been injured at all.

And by some karmic blessing, the switch did have one miraculous effect defying one of the most fundamental law of physics; the conservation of energy.

The pain ceased to exist.

 Steve swore to you while looking – squinting still, really, the lights too bright for his enhanced sight – directly into your eyes that there was not a single trace of his spectral wound in his chest. It didn’t hurt. And the pain didn’t transfer to you either. It was just… gone.

You didn’t investigate why, even as you could feel the wheels in Steve’s head turning, his neurons once again firing like mad as he considered using the Leviathan for switches more often, wanting to try if together, you could rid you of the pain completely whenever your Spectre suffered an injury. You didn’t want to know if that was an option; because it was not an option for you, the risks you had listed earlier remaining.

Nevertheless, you were grateful that this one and only time you’d used the artifact, Steve was free of the consequences of your abilities.

And you were beyond grateful that exchanging powers back did not catapult you back into times where you and Steve fought all too often.

In fact, it was the exact opposite.

You did begin to build the foundation Steve had talked about. An invite for a run, for a workout, for a lunch. Sitting next to each other when watching a movie with other Avengers or during the AI movie nights. Lingering when running into each other, exchanging at least a few sincere words or mere small talk. A literal walk in a park, a little hike upstate, a coffee with no expectations beyond a good, safe time with someone whose company you enjoyed very much.

When you granted yourself the permission to let go, you gravitated towards each other, every time, the alluring warmth of his, figurative and literal, always pulling you in, tingles in your belly reaching into your chest and untying the knots of anxiety and doubt and setting you free of their barbaric cage.

You did take it slow. There were no labels, no pressure – at least not from Steve’s side – no deadlines. No official dates, no purely romantic displays of affection.

You did work on building that trust and you were fully aware it was mostly for your own benefit. Even as Steve was clearly putting a lot of effort into making it seem like he didn’t mind, you added the guilt over making him wait and complicating things to the nice pile you had managed to gather all by yourself; but that was not on Steve. Steve was… incredible.

With all this, the feeling you had always felt humming in your chest and which you had been so desperate to fight just to remain a little safer, grew louder. You had always trusted Steve; the trust was now turning steel-solid with every precious minute in his presence.

It was you whom you still didn’t quite trust.

But when you allowed yourself to let go just a tiny bit, to feel Steve’s sincerity in just about anything, when you consciously pushed at least some of your fears to the backburner, you were falling for Steve fast. And hard.

Steve Rogers was a man as close to perfection as you thought it possible. There were almost too many things to admire and appreciate about him. His bravery, sincerity an all-in approach when it came to feeling, were but a few of them.

One of the ways which conveyed his kindness and dare to say affection, was his touch.

There were few fundamental facts about touching and being touched by Steve.

The first one was that before your unfortunate Hydra incident, you two had never touched outside of strictly work-related reasons; and even those, at least to your knowledge, had been very limited. One, Steve fixed some of your moves or stance in training, or assisted you if it was completely necessary. Two, Steve carried you when you inevitably passed out during a mission; being high-up in his arms, pressed to his front as he had easily carried you bridal style, was a memory which you recalled with surprising sharpness and yet maddening haziness that prevented you from fully benefiting from those moments.

The second fact was that even if the touch was limited to work-related occasions, there was a hierarchy in it: you had never initiated the physical contact. You wouldn’t for a while, in the course of work or outside of it.

Third, when it did come to physical contact outside of work, there was something incredibly fragile and beautiful about Steve and touch.

It wasn’t like you had never had another person touch you outside of work before, obviously. That wasn’t it. You had done plenty of gymnastics training, ballet lessons, work-out, martial arts, sparring – all these included a lot of correction by your trainers. You had once had friends too, you had hugged; and god knew Daisy could give, at least by your estimate, among the warmest hugs on Earth and in Space.

When it came to a different kind of touch, when it came to sex, you sure had your fair share of experience of being touched. In fact, there had been a period of your life that included a very high number of sexual encounters, which naturally tended to involve a lot of touching; so much that you’d confidently say the rule at the time was quantity over quality. The habit was objectification over affection. The reality was heated desire to fuck and be fucked over intimacy.

And that was exactly where the overwhelming contrast lied: there was something empoweringly and disarmingly intimate about Steve’s touch, even outside of romance.

It had started back at the Hydra cell, with him tenderly cradling your head, fingertips lingering on your thigh after he had finished taking care of your wound; the very study in intimate, warm touch, that lingered in your mind fondly despite the dreadful circumstance.

And from there, the physical contact came surprisingly easy and frequent to you two.

A tentative brush of a hand on your arm, an offered elbow if the situation called for it, a half-sided hug. Many if not all of these touches were nothing but friendly in their nature, no different from those Steve would give to Natasha or Bucky or Sam – and yet they whispered of tender intimacy. And they lit you on fire; and while on occasion that fire was burning you from inside out, driving you to the point of madness, most of the time, it was a fire that felt gentle and safe.

And while touching seemed easy as it was with Steve, at least where he initiated it, you felt there were two defining moments where the remaining barriers between you cracked with deafening and soothing noise.

One of them was the first true touch you had initiated since being in a hospital bed after the Hydra mess. It was back when you had found Stevefalling apart, a flashback catching him unexpectedly when the fireworks for his own birthday had gone off – or that much had been your guess at the time.

The memory haunted you with heartache and fondness at once; his ass in those nicely fitting slacks planted on the floor in an abandoned remote Tower corridor, back pressed against the wall, fingers in his hair gripping and making sure his palms were covering his ears.

You had approached him slowly that evening – tentative for multiple reasons – making as heavy steps as you could so he could feel you coming. You seated your ass – in a blue summer dress reaching above your knees – next to him, close, but not touching at first. Then, when you could tell he registered your presence – somehow slightly more relaxed and more strung up at once – you scooted over, just resting your bare shoulder against his, your heart having leapt to your throat at the contact.

And that was it. You just sat there next to him, silently asking Friday for not letting anyone else into this section of the Tower for the moment.

You sat there, breathing, feeling the warmth radiating off Steve’s bicep and in return you let him feel yours, until the grip on his hair loosened; until part of his weight rested against your shoulder and his hands fell slack on the floor. Only then you spoke to him quietly, laying your hand next to his, a tentative offer he accepted after a while. Moments, long, quiet but not torturous ticked by; and after, he rasped a thank you, rising to his feet, using the hold on your hand to help you up, a shy smile – a little, broken thing –painted his lips before he returned to the party, probably feeling as hungover from the experience as you did.  

The second of the breaking points was your embarrassing breakdown at the animal shelter; that day, Steve’s arms enveloped you fully and firmly against his chest for the first time, a protective embrace trying to shield you from the hurt that was echoing from within you, coaxing you to release that pain as if he could take it and add its weight to his world-wielding shoulders. And in a way, he did.

Accepting the offer of today’s sparring session felt like breaking the third seal.

Steve had corrected your stance or grip or technique before; but sparring with any of the Avengers had been of a short supply, one that started to fill up after the Hydra incident. Yet, sparring with Steve seemed to apply to other Avengers, Bucky most of all, because they were equal in strength and enhanced reflexes.

As with just about anything, Steve gave you the chance to back out, to say no; but you recognized the very offer as one of the olive branches which he seemed to extent more and more frequently. He had arranged your training sessions with other Avengers – or at least nudged them to suggest it, you were nearly sure of it – seeing them as opportunities to bond with your teammates; but so far he had avoided inviting you himself. Not to work out but to actually spar with him.

There was something exhilarating about saying yes, terrifying and tempting at once, a cocktail you found yourself drinking bottoms-up more and more frequently when it came to opening up as well. Especially when it came to Steven Grant Rogers.

And while the first few advances during the session were reluctant, you gradually eased into it.

To ease into sparring with Steve was a thrill, a hum of adrenalin and fun in your very bones. You found yourself panting; you found yourself grinning, Steve’s praise fuelling your nearly successful attempts at taking him down.

The physical effort in trying to take down a supersoldier, even as you knew he wouldn’t purposely hurt you, was not the only reason why your heart was beating so fast; the sight of him grinning, sparkles in his eyes, arms in particular bulging since he had to keep his fists up, all that certainly played a role too.

The air in the gym was charged with something playful; and it crackled of something else too, something electric you wouldn’t dare to give a name to, but you’d gladly let it tickle your skin even if the act whispered of danger that had nothing to do with the size of Steve’s shoulders and body in general, nor his strength. Nor the scent of peak masculine that seemed to wrap around you in welcomed but suffocating manner.

Another of the exciting things – things that made your blood rush fast and heat settle in your belly deeper and hotter than you’d be willing to admit under the threat of death – was Steve’s incredibly varied style of fighting.

To someone who didn’t know better, it would seem that the fight would have had a clear choreography. To someone who would take one single look at Steve and then you, it would seem the fight was about to be about two very different forces of nature. Strength and size on Steve’s side; agility, flexibility and technique on yours. You had seen an advanced mock battle like that before, back when you were only with SHIELD – with Mack and Bobbi. These two were the embodiment of these two apparent opposites, even as they sampled from another. And Mack, the mountain of muscle he was, certainly was far from a slow hunk; but the sheer amount of his muscles did render him less agile than Bobbi.

But that could not be less true where your opponent was concerned – and the main difference between Mack and Steve, much like the reason for it, was clear as day.

Steve Rogers had not been a hunk when he had begun to learn how to fight. When he had begun, he was forced to learn how to use his smaller body with enough wit to try and beat someone almost twice his size.

He still remembered that; and seeing it in action was tantalizing and damn well distracting at times, leading your thoughts astray, down the sinful path of how well he might be able to control and execute his moves in a very different setting. Yet, a little fraction of your mind, one that wasn’t actively participating in guiding you to dodge Steve’s hits and kicks nor was busy with calming your hormones, admired that – and recognized moves from at least eight different martial arts Steve was effortlessly weaving into his advances and defence alike. And he was doing so with an exhilarated smile on his face.

It rang true to his words back in that Hydra base; he did enjoy hand-to-hand even before the serum, but only once he had learned that there were ways to outwit the enemy, a little like David had with Goliath. Except Steve was a bit of both right now and it made him not an easy opponent to beat.

You enjoyed it a little more than you’d be willing to admit, but you suspected Steve knew.

By the look he gave you when you flipped away from his kick aimed to your ribs last second, a look that made something deep within your core tremble with thrilling heat, you also suspected Steve liked it.

He teased you; he pretended to aim punch one way, only to change it last moment to keep you on your toes. He avoided your attacks, sometimes with ease, sometimes barely, because he was not the only one who had learned how to confuse their enemy to gain advantage. Still, sometimes punches and kicks landed – and you’d be bruised tomorrow even as Steve was obviously pulling his punches as not to cause fatal internal bleeding on you.

The thing was, you did no care for bruises; because more often than not, before the pain registered, it was a very different feeling that flickered to life at the point of contact and spread through your veins like a wildfire.

You had a fair amount of experience with sparring, sparring with attractive colleagues too; but never in your life you had found a hold on your fist, a forearm aligned to a forearm, a hold on your ankle, a touch to a thigh so damn intoxicating.

And intoxicating was the right word; because it was messing with your head in both welcomed and unwelcomed ways and it landed you in a trap; your heart and then your body, firmly in Steve’s hold.

You knew exactly how you found yourself in the headlock, but that was no help to you, especially since your first thought, despite the adrenalin coursing through your veins, was that Steve’s front pressed to your back was very warm, very firm and very much appreciated.

You had known you were in trouble a second before Steve’s arm closed around you. But it was too late. He already had you in his grip; and your mind had already steered into gutter, even if for a moment.

Focus.

While you could tell Steve was trying his damnest not to hurt you, his hold on you was unrelenting, not leaving an inch of space for movement besides you possibly tapping out. Which you would do about as soon as the hell would freeze over.

But there were others way of getting out and you would not give up without trying.

Judging by the firm resistance Steve put against your attempts to escape – and good god, how did he just walk around with biceps and forearms this size – he wasn’t completely shying away from his enhancement.

So neither should you.

Closing your eyes a moment, you allowed yourself, albeit with a pang of guilt, another precious moment of feeling Steve’s body enveloping you; then, another moment of indulging in the sight provided by your mind’s eye, of Steve’s large body curled around yours.

And then snapped your eyes open to that very image, your spectre materializing behind him.

There was no time to waste; Steve would soon recognize the change in tension of your actual body. And yet. You couldn’t help but simply feel for another beat of your heart. The heat of his body curled around your back as well as him nearly touching your front now, his t-shirt straining around his broad shoulders and his absurdly narrow waist that called for you to wrap your legs around it.

But you had no right to do that; and admiring his physique and indulging in his presence was not why your spectre was behind him.

Standing on your tiptoes, noticing the slight wince in his posture as he had indeed registered a change in your physical body, even if he clearly hadn’t identified its cause yet, you leaned as close to his left ear as you could, and whispered:

“On your left.”

Visibly startled, he snapped his head to the source of the sudden noise.

You’d swear you heard Bucky laugh at the other end of the gym – but you didn’t let it distract you beyond a ghost of a smile on your lips.

This was your moment; as soon as you felt was the slightest loosening of Steve’s hold, you seized the opportunity, snapping back. And for all Steve’s fast reflexes, he was not quick enough to stop you from escaping the previously perfect headlock when his first instinct was to grab after the new attacker – your spectre – his fingers only brushing air by the time he did so.

He was not quick enough to react to straighten his posture either, to catch you or his wits before you were curling under his empty arms and sweeping his legs from under him, and causing him to land with his back on the mat with a surprised huff and a thud so powerful it nearly shook the floor under your feet.

You knew he let you win when you managed to climb on top of him and pin him down; but it still felt pretty good to outwit him a little. And to straddle him, holding down his hands which he could with no doubt laughable ease free from your ordinary human grasp.

He huffed a chuckle as he let his head hit the mat, before his gaze found yours again.

“You’re playing dirty.”

For but a second, a tiny but loud voice in your head snapped at you to apologize this instant for cheating, to respond appropriately to your superior berating you; but he wasn’t. There was no malice in Steve’s voice. If anything, he seemed amused, lacing his words with the smallest hint of admiration and praise.

Who knew Captain America himself would approve of sneakiness?

You. You did. These days, you knew. But seeing, hearing and feeling was believing; and all your senses registered that it was all kinds of fine and it inflated your chest with a feeling unknown, of which you were beginning to believe equalled what people usually felt when coming home.

It was a feeling pumping up courage straight into your veins.

One corner of your lips lifted in a smirk mirroring Steve’s, even as your chest was rising and falling rapidly after the exertion needed to get him on his back. “Using what I have. What’s your excuse for holding back, Captain?”

He was holding back; despite the fun and valuable lectures you were gaining, you could see as much and feel it every time he landed a hit. Sure, the aim of sparring was not to beat each other senseless; but he was holding back a little too much. He seemed to be enjoying himself too; but he could do a lot better.

“What I have,” he retorted, a serious note lacing his voice, causing you to sober up a fraction. “It’s dangerous not to. You know it is, better than anyone. You felt it.”

You had felt and were feeling all sorts of things indeed; and you understood his point. But as your mind wandered several directions, some less decent than others, it occurred to you just how, professionally speaking, rare your chance to spar with Steve was.

“Well, one might argue about the opposite being true. The numbers of enhanced people and Inhumans keep rising. And if our biggest escapade yet told us anything, it’s that the serum will always be a hot issue,” you reasoned and despite your rather compromising position, you could tell Steve was genuinely considering your words. “It’s a matter of time before I run into someone with enhanced strength and reflexes in the field… they might not have your level of skills, but still. We’re wasting an opportunity for me to learn how to fight them better.”

The shift in atmosphere following your words was almost palpable, filling your lungs with regret; Steve gulped, all humour bleeding off from his face, dark thoughts gathering like clouds over the sunshine that had been in his smile.

It was obvious he saw your point; you just weren’t sure why you had made it, when it meant disrupting the previously perfect flow and playful atmosphere. A moodkiller, were you? You had been having such a good time earlier.

Then again, that was hardly a surprise, was it? Good times didn’t last; not for you. Sooner or later, you’d taint them with your presence, with your past, your lack of finesse and skill or doomsday mindset. Always.

Your felt your body turning rigid, cold despite the sweat running down your back, ribcage tightening, your gaze growing absent as you retreated into the maze of your mind and memories, every step taken backwards leading you deeper and deeper between the walls that knew no escape-

-and the tender touch to your hand pulled you right back, Steve’s face coming back to focus. It was but a brush on your forearm; on a hand you didn’t remember taking off Steve’s forearm.

While you were still on top of him, he was on top of the situation; and while you should be having a firm grip on him, your opponent, you had someone you trusted with your life gently holding you, if by nothing else but his fingertips barely caressing your skin. There was no doom on his face, no scolding, no insult, no mocking; just intent and focus written in his surprisingly softened features.

“I just don’t want to hurt you.”

The words came out quiet, yet you felt their power shake something within you, releasing the suffocating tension in your chest, something in the air shifting towards a wholly new direction.

You didn’t think Bucky and Sam were in the gym anymore; the large room was filled with nothing but faint sounds of your and Steve’s breathing, the space expanding and shrinking at once, a whole world concentrated in the sincerity of Steve’s blue eyes.

If the third seal of touching Steve had broken by accepting the sparring session, the fourth was being broken when you allowed yourself to feel the tenderness of his rough fingertips on your skin and the firmness and stability of his body under yours.

“You won’t,” you whispered back, your faith in those words steady as the foundation of Earth. So steady you mentally propped your hand on it and rose to bravery, reaching a decision that somehow felt like losing the ground under your feet and enjoying doing so. “I trust you, Steve.”

“With your life?” he questioned softly, gaze roaming your face, trapping you in a world of its own.

Distantly and vividly at once, you recalled the conversation you had led in the med bay almost a month back, a shiver running down your spine. And it was not at all unpleasant.

Knowing in your core that the decision you had reached was the right one, you released a shaky breath, throat tight with both anxiety and overwhelming relief.

“That too.”

Then, a beat of silence. You were fully aware of what you were saying; what you were hinting had.

And you knew that Steve, brilliant, brilliant Steve, was too, because even with his ability to appear stoic – ability you could proudly say you had penetrated more than once – his expression changed. A subtle shift in his features; a drastic one.

Transforming with something you were suddenly terrified to read.

For ten frantic beats of your heart, you observed him with dreadful anticipation, before the weight of your own words became too much, panic attempting to seize you as you fought with vigour not to show the crucial realization that had dawned on you.

You just made a mistake.

You had misread the situation, you had misread it all.

You basically told Steve you were ready for a shift in your relationship; but it was too late.

Steve wasn’t interested anymore, even if there was something in his eyes that appeared so damn soft after your admission and you’d swear you had seen a glimmer of want in those widened pupils during the sparring session. But you were wrong.

He had been content with the blooming friendship, the spark needed for romance already gone, rationality overtaking whatever feelings had possessed him earlier, the realization you were too much work, too much to handle and not enough of anything else overweighting his previous courage to try with you.

You had missed your shot; and you just exposed yourself to judgement.

Before the emptiness of losing something you had never actually had could swarm your body completely with pain you wished was only spectral, a loud thud from the other part of the gym – making you realize you were very much not alone – froze the sensation in its progress.

On autopilot, you climbed off Steve swiftly, offering him your hand even as the idea of you lifting the hunk of muscle Steve was was laughable at best.

You did not feel like laughing.

You cleared your throat, forcing a nonchalant smile, nonchalant tone, nonchalant everything.

“Two out of three?” you offered, thanking all gods you ever heard of that Steve accepted your hand with the same amount of nonchalance, his hand warm and firm around yours.

You tried to smile despite feeling like projecting your spectre to damn Australia just so you didn’t have to deal with the brutal confession you had so irresponsibly and stupidly gave out.

And yet. There was something shockingly warm in Steve’s expression as he nodded, giving you hope you hadn’t messed up as cardinally as you thought, his gaze a little absent as if he was just as lost in his own mind as you wanted to retreat into yours and never leave.

Not wanting to give into hope nor the despair, you did what you always had; you shoved the incident and possible consequences deep within where they couldn’t hurt you momentarily, desperately latching onto the workout itself. You tried to tell yourself you should cherish the blessing of spending time with Steve, even if it might be the last time before you’d go back into the shouting matches and two strangers living and working in close quarters mode.

“Sure. Have at it, Spectre.”

He made a little gesture with his hand and he raised his arms for defence, determination that somehow appeared to reach beyond besting you in combat appearing on his face and making your heart tremble with everything but fear.

“I will. But no holding back. Not that much, at least.”

The brief smile passing Steve’s lips felt somewhat meaningful, a warning sending your heart into frenzy; but whenever had it not.

“Don’t worry, Spectre. I won’t.”

If there was one thing Steve could do really well – among many others, because of course he did – it was delivering on his promises.

He was not holding back; or at least he was holding back on holding back, and the results were immediate.

His smile grew wider, his energy practically sparking, his movements faster and considerably more challenging than before. He allowed himself to let go; and he leaned fully into you doing the same, the stakes rising, as much as the fun. And tension.

A very palpable tension you couldn’t deny, air heavy and delicious in your lungs, your heart once again racing from more than the insanely intense workout.

Steve went – almost – all in. And damn, was that a challenge, like a steep hill to climb; quite a literal one, since Steve was a mountain of muscle.

What a sight.

A cheeky smile when you tried to trick him with projecting again; his grip a little firmer, growing even more difficult to escape it when you weren’t sure you wanted to; not when he spared a playful remark, his breath brushing your skin and sending shivers down your back. Huffs of laughter when you squinted at him after every unsuccessful attempt to get him on his back.

His attacks were much more successful; and it wasn’t just the speed and the strength.

It was the stamina.

Which was a thought that sent your mind to the gutter more than once, but you could not let it. Not even when he got you on his back with an embarrassingly loud thud on the mattress.

He had tired you out; that was what had had you done. So much that you remained lying flat on your back for several seconds, blinking and catching your breath.

Steve’s panting form appeared in your field of vision, his cheekiness and thrill of a friendly and surprisingly challenging fight erased and quickly replaced by concern.

“Did I hurt you? Are you okay?”

It was sweet. Almost.

You huffed, unable to hold back the stink eye when the concern disappeared from his features, replaced by mischief.

“What do you think? … I’m fine. Completely fine.”

As he offered you a hand, one corner of his lips quirked up in painfully contagious amusement.

“Then stop napping. Come on.”

And you did.

By the third time he bested you, you felt like you were supposed to take that nap; because hadn’t it been for him, you might have sprained something, if not broken.

If there was one thing you were better at than Steve, even if it still was an annoyingly close call, it was gymnastics. You moved a little faster, was able to stretch a bit further, flip over to avoid hits more effectively.

Until you didn’t.

With your movements growing sluggish, the power behind your punches less explosive, your jumps reaching lower, you missed a step; you failed to put enough strength into your take-off. Like a lightning, the realization hit you mid-flip that the landing would not be pleasant, let alone graceful – and your body had no chance to react properly in time, not with how slow your motions had turned.

Squeezing your eyes shut, muscles strung for the impact you braced yourself for, you swore to yourself you would not cry out in pain, clenching your jaw for a good measure.

And then you were landing in something solid and warm and safe and the world was tumbling and spinning until it stood still except for the two sets of frantic heartbeats and laboured breaths, everything coming back to focus.

The everything being Steve securely holding you to his chest as you sat your ass on the ground, your legs bend over his outstretched thighs.

Snapping your eyes open, you met his worried blues roaming as he was already taking count of your possible injuries – which were zero thanks to his save. Ears ringing from the unexpected tumble, warm proximity and the intensity of Steve’s gaze, it flashed through your mind that had Steve ever decided to quit his job, he would probably make good money as a top spotter in gymnastic due to his reflexes and quick thinking like that.

And you’d love to return to professional gymnastics if he had, because landing in his arms did things to your heart that might not be healthy, but were certainly entirely pleasant, every single of your senses sinking into him. The heat radiating off his skin, the musk mixed with his cologne, the taste of his breath on your lips, his beauty still so startling from up close, and finally his voice, husky with worry.

“Are you alright?”

Very much so, you wanted to reply, lost in the deep sea of blue with sweet green speckles; lost until you realized he was asking because you might have nearly broken your neck with the awkward flip.

You cleared your throat, trying to blink away the haze.

“Uhm, yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Thanks to you,” you mumbled, licking your lips as your gaze flickered to Steve’s mouth, the heat surrounding your body suddenly unbearable with the improper thoughts it awoken.

He had caught you because he was your superior. He was responsible for you and he was your friend and he cared, and he would feel awful if you got hurt, because he had been the one to suggest the sparring. It would be completely unprofessional and low of you to use the position it had landed you in as an excuse to taste those lips for real-

You shifted in his embrace, a clear signal you wanted him to release you – even if you didn’t – his hold on you instantly easing, causing you to release the breath that caught in your chest when he had so sincerely asked you if you weren’t hurt.

He smiled at you as he let you to climb to your feet first, joining you swiftly once you weren’t in his way.

“Are you sure you’re-”

“I’m fine, Steve. Really… “ you reassured him, even as you felt your stance being a little shaky from exertion. “And thank you. Really.”

“Happy to help. Should we take a break?”

You looked at him incredulously, trying and failing to asses if he was being serious or teasing you; the way one corner of his lips quirked in a smile did not help your assessing process.

But for once, you were done. Any further sparring would probably ended up in you truly hurting yourself.

Not to mention it wouldn’t be fair.

“Steve if you haven’t caught me, I’d be on my back, probably with something broken. I think it’s safe to say this counts like the third point for you… and even if it didn’t, you’d get me on the ground within a minute. This,” you gestured vaguely on the mat where you had been sitting, in his arms, across his lap, FOCUS, “just proves I stand no chance anymore. You won. Fair and square. Congrats. And thanks for not letting me win just because.”

“Just because?” he questioned, the other corner of his lips turning higher too, his eyes sparkling with something that made your stomach flutter.

Just because I like you? his smile seemed to say, but that might be your fatigue and slight dehydration putting ideas in your head and it was not what you meant. Entirely. You weren’t that confident.

You cleared your throat as you reached for your water bottle. “Just because you’re a gentleman.”

You took a generous sip, eyeing Steve as he shrugged.

“I try. But I wouldn’t-“ You raised your eyebrow at him, making him chuckle self-deprecatingly. “Okay, that’s fair.”

You smiled too. “I’d say. Now, I made a fatal mistake – I didn’t agree on the wager before losing. So, what’s it gonna be, winner?”

Your own question, the admission of losing, took you by surprise; it felt so much lighter than you’d expect. Looking back at how you and Steve interacted in the past few weeks, it shouldn’t have. But it did.

Had this happened two months ago, you’d try to bury yourself six feet under for the humiliation alone. But a lot had changed since then; and you might still be learning, but you were trying your best to see things without actively assuming everyone thought low of you just because you weren’t perfect.

And right now, the thing was that Steve would not mock you for losing against him. He would not throw it to your face that you had asked him not to hold back and he wouldn’t automatically assume you had done so because you were being cocky and that led to him beating you; if anything, the look on Steve’s face whispered of respect. He might have won, but he had seemed almost impressed every time he got a point on you, as if he admired you for holding your own against him for so long. Whenever he had offered you a hand to get up, firm and gentle at once, a combination that you read in his actions in him more and more often, it wasn’t a superior offering a hand to a weak member of his team; as absurd as it sounded, it was almost as if an equal was offering a hand to an equal.

As if a friend was genuinely offering help to their friend.

And with something in his gaze speaking louder than words, the line of friendship was blurring with each passing moment.

But friends or not, you owed him; and unlike what you’d be two months ago, you weren’t afraid of being at his mercy. In fact, there were scenarios flowing in your mind where the idea of being at his mercy appeared more than appealing.

But this was not the time; as far as you knew, it might never be the time.

You shook off the thought for your own wellbeing and as not to be a downer, again.

“Come on, Steve. You’ve earned it. What’s the pay up? Publicly stepping up during training and declaring you’re a better fighter which everyone already knows, or wearing a ridiculous costume to a meeting?” you suggested, chuckling nervously under his intent gaze, not sure what to make of it. Had you been wrong and had he planned some diabolical task? Surely, he wouldn’t… right? “Or buying you coffee for a month, doing your laundry, vacuum cleaning and cleaning up, being stuck on rewriting mission logs duty-”

“Have dinner with me.”

You almost dropped your bottle at the soft offer, your heart skipping a startled and unfairly excited beat. His voice was so quiet and tender you were half-convinced you had suffered a blow to the head which you couldn’t remember and you were now hallucinating.

Except Steve continued, a little more firmly and steadily as he took a reluctant step closer, his gaze never leaving your face.

“Have dinner with me,” he repeated. “Not because I won, I don’t care for that. I’d never use that or anything else to force you, I hope you know that. But… have dinner with me… as a date. If you still want to.” He licked his lips, the motion drawing your gaze like a magnet, almost distracting you from how nervous his smile appeared all of sudden. “Earlier… you said you trusted me. Did I misread it?”

Of course.

Of course he had understood immediately and of course that his determination, one that had seemed to encompass more than met the eye, had been about more than winning. Now you knew what; and not for a second you’d think he was trying to force you into anything, had been plotting ever since you had told him not to hold back. You knew in your very core this was not something Steve did, because he had been so wonderfully patient and kind and maybe a little bit flirty and every single touch seemed to carry meaning and you had grown closer, you had learned things about him that kept revealing him as even more of a beautiful person that you had ever imagined, but if there was any doubt that all, it was that perhaps with his out-of-charts reading skills, you had forced him to act when you had suggested you might be ready for more.

You didn’t really believe Steve could be pushed into something he didn’t want to do, but the worm of insecurity was nestled deep. What if… what if?

“You’re not wrong, Steve. You’re… an attentive reader. I just…” You shook your head, an unsure smile playing on your lips, causing him to frown, an expression you were quick to avoid by casting your gaze downwards. “You don’t have to… you know, just because I said that, you don’t have to-“

His sneakers entered your field of vision, causing you to gulp, your eyes briefly flickering up; before you could escape the weight of his gaze again, his index finger slid under your chin and pushed up in a gentle touch that had you shiver, butterflies swarming your belly as you lost yourself in the blue of his eyes like many times before.

His damn touch; so soft and meaningful, barely there and yet leaving a brand you’d proudly wear any day-

“No, doll, I really do have to, because if I read it right and if you’re ready to try… I’m not letting this chance slip through my fingers. I think you are beautiful, brilliant, incredibly driven and strong. You make me laugh, you make me question everything I know, you keep me on my toes and I enjoy every single minute of getting to know you, of being with you, in any capacity, and… I’d like it to continue, preferably over a dinner,” he said, a little innocently teasing smile in the corner of his plush lips as if his thumb wasn’t mere inches from your mouth, as if his fingertips hadn’t brushed along your jaw while he had been talking, almost subconscious movement it seemed, as if your heart wasn’t beating its way out of your chest because he had easily weaved a year worth of compliments into asking you out on a date, as if something within you wasn’t trembling and he hadn’t laid something beautiful and terrifying and delightful at your fingertips, as if he wasn’t at your fingertips, the most breathtaking mirage that made your lips tingle with the need to meet his.

At your stunned silence, a shadow of self-doubt masked as the lightest chuckle, his hand dropped from your face. Much to your regret.

“It… it doesn’t have to be a dinner, it can definitely be different kind of meal. Or… not a meal, it can be something different, maybe a museum or a picnic in a park or… anything you’d like, I’d just… I’d like it to be something where I get to treat you right.”

Your urge to kiss him senseless and your body’s need to melt where you stood grew exponentially with every word, something acutely warm and suffocating and overwhelmingly good blooming in your chest, the nerves now lacing Steve’s voice only fuelling the sensation; because it seemed even Steve Rogers could be in a situation where he needed to gather a little courage and was willing to show it to you, because he trusted you and shared with you.

There was no saying no to this, especially since he was still standing so damn close to you, looking at you like he had meant every damn word he said, as if that truly was how he saw you despite everything.  

“Well… uhm, I’d really love that,” you choked out, his smile making its return with brightness, causing you to feel giddiness you didn’t know you could feel, your lips curling up in a smile before you could stop it. “But it hardly seems fair, does it?”

Steve’s eyebrows rose a bit, his expression telling you he understood you were only teasing him now. A little. The majority of you was just you trying to distract him while you processed the fact he seemed taken by you for some reason – the reasons he had listed to make his case – and just asked you out and you had basically already said yes and he was still so close and tall that you could just stand on your tiptoes and-

“Hm, what does?”

What had you been talking about? Oh.

“Well, I lost the match… and this makes me feel like a winner.”

The flicker of something tender was brief, but it was certainly there before a brilliant grin took over, his hand enveloping yours, thumb brushing over your inner wrist just above your sparring glove. The simple touch sent an outrageously intense electrifying feeling up through your body. You weren’t sure you could survive a date with Steve, but damn would you try; for all the touches you had exchanged before, this one was charged with something deliciously new and expectant, the air in the room almost crackling as Steve took your other wrist into a gentle hold as well.

“I don’t see the issue with that… and since I am the winner, I make the rules. So… that’s a yes, right?” he asked once more for confirmation, the thinnest thread of uncertainty among the delight making your body act before your brain caught up.

You simply couldn’t resist. Well-aware the room was already empty, feeling like million bucks despite losing – and truly, losing had never felt and would never again feel so good – you quickly stood on your tiptoes, using Steve’s hip as a support, and pressed a feather-light kiss to his cheek, retreating just as fast.

You didn’t miss the fact his gaze flickered down to your lips as you stepped back and unwittingly escaped his hold, your lips still burning from the brief touch to his skin.

“It’s a yes,” you assured him, voice a little shaky from the adrenalin coursing your veins. You couldn’t believe you just kissed him; on a cheek, yes, and it should not affect you like you were a blushing girl in a kindergarten, but the warmth in Steve’s eyes and the new hint of pink to his cheeks told you perhaps you were not alone in your giddiness and nerves. It felt empowering and silly all at once; and sweet and beautiful. Almost as beautiful as Steve’s smile shining with the power of thousands suns after receiving the simplest of affections. “Let me know when and where.”

“I will. …stretch with me?”

For the second time, you couldn’t quite help your reaction; but this time, your brain was much faster than it should have, the – given the environment innocent – suggestion somehow connecting with planning the date in your mind in the most inappropriate manner.

You sputtered, glad for not having taken another sip of water just yet, and burst out laughing despite there being nothing laughable about Steve helping you stretch or helping you stretch.

The tips of Steve’s ears turned bright red with fascinating speed, his face a hilarious image of pure horror.

“Oh no, I did not mean-“

“Sure you didn’t, Steve,” you choked out between laughter, his embarrassment turning into exasperation at your childishness. And you’d believe it if the laughter wasn’t already glimmering in his eyes. “Sorry, sorry, yeah. Sure, let’s… stretch.”

“Great, let’s-”

“I could use a partner for stretching, haven’t had one for a while,” you hummed nonchalantly, a smirk threatening to break as something exhilarating flashed in Steve’s irises at your – given the environment innocent – confession. Whether his pupils dilated from surprise or something dangerously resembling desire, you weren’t sure – but it made you want to giggle and laugh and cry, your cheeks beginning to hurt as well as the rest of your body.

Your grin only widened when Steve opened his mouth without a sound coming out, before resigning to reaching for his own bottle, using it as a pointer.

“…I didn’t mean that. You know that I didn’t--- of course, you do,” he stumbled over his words a bit, sighing when he could see your amusement only growing, shaking his head with a lopsided and slightly incredulous smile. “You’re trouble… I think I like it.”

He only thinks? He isn’t sure? echoed in your head, but you didn’t let the flicker of insecurity get to you. Not now. Not after this lovely incident that shot up your confidence all the way to the high ceiling of the gym.

“Maybe I should cause trouble more often then, Captain.”

Identifying the spark in Steve’s eyes as want, you smiled to yourself, not quite sure what to do with yourself, but knowing this must have been what being happy and in love felt like.

“Yeah. Maybe you should.”

Second part of epilogue

Series masterlist // S.R. masterlist

Thank you for your patience and for reading 💕

The second part of the fluffy epilogue should come soon enough, since it's already written (...it's how I found out this one hasn't been posted 🥲)

May the endless January begone, welcome February - may it be kind to you 💕

[xxnashiraxx]

✨Ali's Birthday Bash!✨

Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14

Hi everyone!!! Welcome to my birthday bash!! I have exactly one week till my 26th bday!! (It's special cause I'm only 26 on the 26th once!! 😁) I decided a month or so ago that I would like to spend it giving back to the people who have made me feel loved and accepted here on this silly little app and in this wonderful community! 💕 I am oh so grateful, and so beyond awestruck by the friends I've made here and the opportunities to bond with people I never would have met or had otherwise, that I had to do something to show my appreciation. 💗 I won't wax poetic too hard in this opening section, except in the little tidbits below, but my goal is to get 2 of these out a day, probably at different times each day (cause my schedule is a little erratic haha 💗) and I'm going to try so hard to get to everyone- I have some backlog, and I hope I can finish all of these before next week is up! But please bear with me! 💕 This may extend past my bday cause I work fulltime and I have to travel for the holidays, but I have a big list and a lot of people to show love to, so! 💗 Without further ado!!

divider here!

Ysera (for @khywren)

This was the first portrait (right? portrait? ahh idk) I completed!! I have some gripes with it, and I spent so much time trying to go back and forth trying to get things and proportions and perspectives right, but I think she's ready!! I'm not going to be a perfectionist any longer (a bald-faced lie) but I can't keep staring at it!!

Now on to what really matters! @khywren you have been such an amazing friend and wonderful presence in my life ever since I met you!! You were one of the very first people to read my fic and comment on it, and you care so much about my writing and show it and it just means so much to me (": Before you and a few other people began to read it, I didn't think I would continue anymore, but you helped me come out of that funk and feel better about the good and the bad! 💕I love Ysera so much, I cherish her and her nature and personality and wish I could hug her on the daily 💗 Your writing is so beautiful and evocative, and it's truly a gift to this fandom- I am so happy to call you my friend and so glad that I get to read your work! I hope I did your gal justice!! 💕 You have my heart forever 🥺💕

Tav (for @bby-bel-art)

BELLL!!! 💜💜 You are such an amazing person!!! I am so so so grateful we met! You are an incredibly talented artist with such a big heart and I treasure you so much! I cannot tell you how insanely overwhelmed with love I feel every time you send me a little art of Ofelia, or make a playlist for my fic, or tell me an idea and I just 🥺💕I feel so unworthy and awed that you like it and think about it and it's crazy- I truly don't know what I did to deserve you, but I am forever honored! You have the best music taste and I admire you so much- thank you for everything, and thank you for being my friend!!! 😁💜 I hope you like this little art of Tav- I am new to scales, so they may not look exactly like they do in the game, or much of the features 💀 But I hope you like it! 💜

Look out for more of these in the coming week! I will tag them all as #ali's birthday bash so hopefully they're a bit easier to find! I love you all so much!!!

[cressidagrey]

[https://www.tumblr.com/cressidagrey/781353380462428160/hiiii-angel-this-isnt-a-question-of-anything?source=share]

HIIII ANGEL, I sent this ask maybe a week or two ago and since you've released so much of 'White Horse' since and I've also read another amazing series of yours, I thought I'd come off anon. I read your Lando series spontaneously, without any real idea of what it was going to be like but HOLYYY. When I tell you I truly went through all the emotions with that series 😭You truly never cease to amaze me, like I am in awe after I read every new piece of work you release; whether it be an update of 'White Horse' or the blessed Charles fic you posted. No matter what it is, I am always reminded of how much I ADOREEE your work and it's so hard to not want so much more bc there truly is no other author whose writing has taken me in so deeply like YOU!!!

There's honestly so much more I wanted to say but my brain is suffering from flatulence right now, so I'll leave it off with this. THANK YOU for all your hard work when it comes to your beautiful writing. The fact that you're a law student @ the same time leaves me feeling even more admiration for the wonderful human you are bc it cannot be easy to manage studying on top of writing and I see you do your own thing with horses too. I'm so so abundant with gratitude for your wonderful work and I cannot say enough how much it has a hold on me, I always find myself rereading your series (and yes, White Horse included) bc they're simply too good to only read once. Thank you for sharing your beautiful work with us on so many different platforms and FOR FREE!!! Like your talent is a GIFT imo and the fact we get the honour of reading your work for free is UNBELIEVABLE. I wish there was a way to properly repay you for all your work bc you truly deserve so much love, adoration, appreciation and all that good stuff, angel 💫

I hope life never stops treating you gently, kindly and all the wonderful ways that YOU DESERVE🤍

This is one of the kindest, most heartfelt messages I’ve ever read—thank you so, so much for taking the time to write it. I'm honestly sitting here grinning like an idiot because this kind of support? This kind of warmth?? It means everything. 🥹

I’m beyond thrilled that the stories have resonated with you like this—from White Horse to the Lando chaos to the newer Charles fic (where chaos will absolutely continue)—it makes me so happy that they’ve found a home with you. Knowing they bring you joy and that you even reread them?? Actual heart explosion. 💥💕

And I cannot tell you how much it means that you see the effort behind it all—balancing law school, horses, writing, life—it’s a lot, but messages like this make it so deeply worth it. I’m endlessly grateful for readers like you who are not just invested but so generous with your kindness.

Sending you all the good things in return: cold pillows, warm drinks, no WiFi issues when you’re trying to read, and books that sweep you off your feet the way you’ve let mine do 🫶✨

[dailymariskahargitay]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

We are here to celebrate you on your special day! You deserve everything today and everyday! You are such an inspiration to me and so many people. We are so grateful to have someone like you in our lives! The work you do is so amazing and so inspiring. I thank you for everything you’ve done! You are such a special person and you are truly one of a kind!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MARISKA ✨💕

[sp00kymulderr]

Well here we are, nearing the end of another year. 2024 has been…something. But it has been made much easier and nicer thanks to the wonderful community we have made here, resilient and welcoming and full of love despite everything.

I haven’t read half as much as I wanted to (I still have things on my tbr from October 23 🫣 I blame my new job and my adhd okay) but what I have read has been so simply fantastic and inspiring, and the art I’ve seen this year has been absolutely wonderful. I’m constantly in awe of the talent in this fandom 💕

So I just wanted to take a moment to shout out some of my absolute favourite creations of 2024!

✨first of all I have to continue to scream about this Dieter & Alien art that @yopossum made for me 🥺🩷 a print of this lives on my mantelpiece and it makes me happy every single day. This means so much to me.

✨The stranger the better by @seventeenpins Dieter & tentacles - I don’t even need to explain further. You get it. It’s perfect. I reread this a lot

✨Seeded & Propogation by @covetyou *Staring at these fics with dreamy eyes*. Lo just gets me tbh, I’m very lucky. Dieter having weird dreams and then an even weirder and extremely sexy time with a new alien pal… yeah 🫠 I would happily live in the brain that created this.

✨Sweet Dee by @yopossum Sub Dieter wins every time, and this is such a special version of him. This is the kind of love Dieter baby deserves 🥺

✨Kinktober 23 by @gasolinerainbowpuddles Puddles I am forever grateful that you continued to work on and post on these throughout 2024, because everything came out with blew me away (and awakened some things in me 😌). So many absolute treasures here.

✨Rebirth by @perotovar THE Javi G fic. The most fucking gorgeous, heartfelt, sensitive and sweet piece of writing. I love the idea of Javi being genderfluid, and I love how Erin presented this coming out story so beautifully

✨What means to you, what means to me by @qveerthe0ry I rarely read Max P, but I couldn’t resist another genius fic concept from Tings! Gender fuckery at its best, and just a truly affirming piece of fic to read

✨Me on you by @luxurychristmaspudding I mean…WOW. Gorgeous, poetic work from a gorgeous, poetic writer. This one really stuck with me

✨Go your own way by @schnarfer oh, fuck boy Javi P you’re so god damn hot. No one writes like Al. Her style is so unique and so fun and so clever and this was no different. An absolute horny, emotional treat

✨Tool time by @covetyou Joel in a tool belt. Bulge nuzzling. Lo gives you everything you didn’t know you needed and then some. Every time I see a tool belt now I have a Pavlovian response.

✨Letter to an old poet by @party-hearses Mish writes with so much emotion, so much depth, and this is no different. It’s heart wrenching and emotional and says so much, even in 600 words. That’s talent.

✨Fade into you by @chronically-ghosted Daddy Dieter is my favourite. Taylor is my favourite. This is my favourite. I seriously love everything from this extremely talented writer but the daddy Dieter fics will forever live in my heart especially.

✨Let me get what I want by @for-a-longlongtime H O T 🥵 I had to take breaks reading this because JEEZ it’s insaaane 😵‍💫 I’d like to live right in this fic

✨Someone who calls me baby by @missredherring We saw this thought spawned in the brainrot club and I was beyond excited to see Rachel give us this gorgeous piece of very sweet Javi G x Dieter. I really love your brain.

✨Diana by @demonsandbullets i saw the warnings for this and had a meltdown 🫠 the fic did not disappoint. An initiation for the new Roman general which gives us Sub Bottom!Acacius and pegging. Holy fuck. Some of the best writing I’ve read ever.

🌟Thank you all for sharing your talent and making the year something more special for me

This list is incomplete, I don’t think I could ever compile a complete list of every wonderful creation in the Pedro fandom in a year.

So to everyone else, and everyone in this fandom (everyone who isn’t a bully or a troll trying to ruin the fandom space, at least) :