#and instead just fell flat and silly | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

Visit Blog

Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.

Fun Fact

Tumblr’s reach among the 26-to-35-year-olds in the US is 11%.

#and instead just fell flat and silly

chuluoyi · 7 months

Text

✎ attraction

- gojo satoru x reader

to think it started with your crush on his best friend...

genre: high school!gojo being a menace, jealous!gojo but he doesn’t realize it? enemies to lovers, fluff, gojo begins pining on you

note: thank you anon who asks for gojo falling in love with a first year! i added some spice though haha

a part of gojo's love entries

series masterlist | oneshot masterlist

Back in 2006—

There was this tiny weeny part of Gojo that was like... questioning, how did his best friend Geto Suguru catch your eye, whereas he didn’t? Like, at all?

"I want Geto."

"Hah?" Gojo arched a righteous brow, swiftly turning your way—feeling the stings of irritation gnawing at him. "What?"

You shot him a look. “I said, you suck and I’m lamenting that I’m paired with you instead of Geto for this mission.”

Once upon a time, you did hate him for obvious reasons as other people do. He was obnoxious, boastful and overall grating on your nerves.

Well, actually, “hate” would be too strong of a word, so probably “dislike greatly” it is.

“Ehh, Suguru? With you?” Gojo glanced at you, purposefully scrunching his face into a mocking sneer. “No way. Absolutely not. Incompatible. I won’t give him my blessings.”

“Who are you to grant blessings?” you hissed with a bulging vein of frustration. “And no, it's not what you think! I—” you wanted to kick yourself for stumbling over your words, “—I just respect him in a way an underclassman would!”

Gojo let out a strained laugh.

To him, you were this cute little junior who looked funny when mad. Riling you up was on his daily to-do list, and poking fun at your obvious crush on his best friend was supposed to double the fun, until it made him wonder despite himself... just what exactly did Suguru have that he apparently lacked, leading you to always follow him with your eyes, whereas you spared him with nothing but glares and sharp retorts?

You didn’t exactly hide your feelings. Whenever Geto was nearby or greeted you in the mornings, you'd blush like a tomato. It was silly, because Gojo was sure his best friend’s type wasn’t a girl as skittish as you—surely, it must be someone as vivacious as Inoue Waka.

He knew you were doomed to fail.

"I suggest you go pick up some slack," he teased. "Better if you don't become a dead weight while assisting him in missions, no?"

He knows. Really.

"...do you know that there are only three things I can't stand here?"

"And those are?"

But...

"Your stupid glasses, your Limitless—and you."

He was still irked, regardless.

"Well, poor you, then," he shrugged, shit-eating grin on his face. This time he pushed his luck. "Do you know that you're nowhere nearing Suguru's type?"

Scratch that. You hate him. You turned to him with a reddened face, and it wasn't because you were blushing.

"I'm going by myself!" you declared, seething. "I couldn't care less about what you're about to do—I'm finishing this and going home!"

With that, you you marched towards the haunted house, paying no heed to his taunts behind you.

You felt a wave of embarrassment washing over. Gojo always messed with you and normally you would chalk it up as one of his shits—but this time, you didn't appreciate how he touched on that sore spot of your not-so-hidden infatuation with Geto. So what if you weren't his ideal type? He didn't have to be mean!

But soon you regretted leaving his side, as a monstrous cursed spirit quickly chased you out.

Gojo was still outside, bidding his time. He merely huffed when he heard you screaming in fear.

He was ready with a jab. "Well, well... Look who's running back into my arms—"

But his smirk quickly fell when he saw the cursed entity was apparently way beyond your level. You ran out—no, by some idiotic impulse of survival, you actually leapt out of the two-story window and almost fell flat on your face and broke your bones, but before then, he sprung to action, catching you, wrapping one arm on your waist.

You were grateful you that you weren't doomed—until you felt yourself dangling mid air in his hold... like a cat.

"Gojo!" you wailed. "I'm going to fa—!"

Oh, but Gojo was convinced that this was his moment to shine. He directed a smirk your way as the bright blue mass in his hand totally caught your attention. With one swift flick of his hand, he muttered the mantra for Blue, and exorcised the cursed spirit in one go.

He marveled at his own show of power—and hoping that somehow, you would too. Then, he placed his hand under your knees, repositioning you in a princess-carry, and the way your gentle curves nestled snugly in his arms sparked some intriguing thoughts in him.

Your wide, crystal-clear eyes gazed at him with such wonder. Red tinted your cheeks. The corners of his mouth curved into a winning smile.

It was at that exact moment when he realized it: he wants you. This funny girl who often made his day, he wanted you to look at his way too.

...but goddamnit, you like Suguru.

"Well, not that scary now with me around, isn’t it?" he boldly announced, and your amazed expression immediately turned into a cute frown.

"Thanks," you blurted, still with rosy cheeks and looked frazzled, but then you realized the state you were in his arms. "But—put me down!"

"Ehhh, I will if your feet can reach the ground!"

Who cares if you like Suguru? As he burst into snickers and you screamed at his face, Gojo Satoru decided then and there—in that spring of 2006—that he would make it his mission to win you over. To make you his.

And years later, not only he achieved that but also so much more—a ring on your finger serving as the testament to his success.

Epilogue

"Yaga-sensei," Geto sighed wearily. "Can I be paired with Shoko, please?"

"Geto-san, wait, please—" you frantically tried to explain, glaring at Gojo in the process. "I'll do my best so—"

"You're such a bother, even Suguru doesn't want to go on missions with you," the white-haired clown remarked with an evil grin. "Right, Suguru?"

"No, Satoru—"

"Well, but if it's me, I'll gladly mentor and teach you though~"

"I don't want you! You're so insufferably annoying!"

"Yaga-sensei, can I please get paired with someone else—"

5K notes · View notes

helen-with-an-a · 2 months

Text

First Time Crush pt 2

Hi. So it's a little short, but I think it's quite cute. Again, if your name is Ellie, I apologise but it's a very common name for 20-24 yr olds in the UK

Barca Femeni x Reader; OC x Reader

Description: R is trying to text Ellie

Word Count: 1.5k

Part 1 : Part 2 : Part 3

It had been 3 days. 3 days of you sitting and staring at your phone with Ellie’s number saved in it. It’s not that you didn’t want to text her – you so desperately wanted to text her – it was more that you didn’t know how. You didn’t really do … whatever you were attempting to do. Everyone at Barca knew you didn’t really initiate hangouts or things like that. They were more than happy to sort it all for you. Your birthday meal – Alexia had texted everyone saying when and where to meet; your turn to organise team bonding – Ingrid had taken over for you, telling everyone what to bring and when to turn up at your flat; you wanted to do go exploring on your day off – Ona had created the group chat. It’s not that you didn’t want to; it’s that you just … couldn’t.

“Have you texted your uno amor verdadero yet?” Jana called across the locker room. You blushed heavily, turning your head away from the group. Their eyes fell on you, waiting for a response. Your silence spoke volumes.

“Amiga, it’s been 3 days,” Pina said exacerbated.

“I know,” you said meekly, well aware of how many days it had been

“She’s going to think you don’t like her,” Martina added.

“I know,” you replied even more dejectedly. That was something you really didn’t want to happen. You really liked Ellie. You really, really liked Ellie. You wanted to hold her hand and make her laugh. You wanted to see her smile as you handed her her morning coffee and help her with her Spanish. You wanted her to kiss you on the cheek for good luck like you saw Olga do for Alexia. You wanted her to push your sweaty hair back from your face when you went up to her in the crowd after a match like you saw Mapi do for Ingrid. You wanted her to press a sweet kiss to your lips as she drew you into a congratulatory hug like Cata’s girlfriend did with her.

“She’s probably waiting for you to text her,” Bruna added.

“I know,” you said so quietly it was barely audible. They really weren’t helping you at the moment. To them, it was simple – a pretty girl you liked gave you her number, so why weren’t you using it?

Social anxiety has plagued you since you first interacted with peers your age. At nursery, you hung behind your parent’s legs as the other children ran wild. In primary school, you were fine doing keepy-uppies by yourself all break and lunch. In secondary school, you were hardly ever there, often being taught by the academy tutors instead, so you never had to make friends. On the field, you thrived; you were cool, calm, and collected. Football was predictable; football had a routine; football had patterns to figure out and break down. People did not. People did strange things like wear your England jersey to tour club games; people broke from their patterns of wearing said jersey that threw you off; people held your hand and wrote their number on their arm; people did unexpected things.

“You have to text her,” Vicky sighed. God, even a child had more experience in this type of things than you did.

“I know,” you mouthed – the sound not coming out. You felt your eyes sting, and you willed yourself not to cry. It was so silly, crying over texting someone. Ellie had told you to text her. She was awaiting your message. Ellie wanted you to text her.

“Per la merda, give it here.” Patri said after a few too many moments of silence. She snatched your phone from your bag without waiting for a response. They had chosen their time to question you well, having waited until the older girls were out of the changing room to go for lunch so they couldn’t be scolded as they began their interrogation.

“No, Patri,” you begged. You knew exactly what she was going to do, and it was exactly what you didn’t want. You wanted to do this by yourself, not have someone take over again. You needed to step up and do this. But every time you clicked on Ellie’s contact, you froze—the paralysing fear taking over once again.

“Sí, Patri.” She smiled, running back to her little group with your phone as they typed away. You floundered; what could you do? They severely outnumbered you. And your go-to protectors – Alexia, Ingrid, Irene, Paños – were all out of the room and likely wouldn’t be coming to look for you for a good 10 to 20 minutes yet. As your mind spiralled into chaos, thinking about all the possible things that could go wrong with them texting Ellie, you missed Alexia and Ingrid slipping back into the room.

It was obvious what was happening. You were almost in tears, clutching onto the bench so tightly your knuckles were white – and a little group stood in a tight circle, eyes flicking back to you occasionally as they whispered and giggled to each other. They loved you like you were their little sister – they could annoy the shit out of you, teasing and causing small meaningless arguments like they would with their actual sisters. But if they saw anyone else doing it – this meant war.

“Qué está pasando?” Alexia shouted. It would have been comical had you not been so upset. Patri’s head snapped up; Alexia could see the colour draining despite standing by the door.

“Å kjære. Kom hit,” Ingrid rushed to your side, pulling your trembling form into her body before glaring daggers at the group in the corner.

“Patricia Guijarro,” Alexia’s voice was ominous. “Vine aquí.” Patri gulped; Alexia wasn’t supposed to back this soon. “Per què cariño pràcticament plora?” She was speaking in Catalan, so you couldn’t understand her very well, but you recognised ‘cariño’ and knew you were the topic of that conversation. Patri’s response was a flood of rapid Catalan, the two of them descending into a harsh argument. It made you even more stressed – you didn’t mean to be the cause of a rift within the team. All because you couldn’t text a girl who willingly gave you her number when you hadn’t even asked.

“Relax, Kjæreste. Everything is fine.” Ingrid soothed, sensing your increasing agitation.

The angry voices eventually died as Patri came to stand before you. She waited for you to look at her – expecting to see your watery eyes and wobbling lip. When you didn’t emerge from Ingrid’s chest, even long after the socially acceptable time limit, Patri could tell they may have fucked up a little.

“Um … lo siento, pensábamos que te estábamos ayudando,” you didn’t look like you had even heard her. She tried again, in English this time, hoping that maybe you just didn’t understand her (her English comprehension dipped considerably when she felt any extreme emotion).

“I’m … we’re … really, really sorry, chica. We thought we were helping—we don’t want this opportunity to disappear for you. I’m so, so sorry.” You heard her the first time, but it was nice to hear her say it in English, too. You lifted your head from Ingrid’s neck, straightened a little, and adjusted your top.

“It’s …” You were going to tell her that it was fine—that she hadn’t technically done anything wrong. But Alexia and Ingrid both shuffled a little, letting you know their displeasure and that everything was not fine. “Thank you,” you settled on—giving Patri a weak smile and nodding at the others, all sheepishly standing as far away from you as possible in the small room.

You were going to speak again when your phone buzzed.

Y/N: Hi. This is Y/N. I absolutely loved talking to you the other day at the match and wondered if you wanted to continue it? Maybe over coffee? I know a few places that sell good stuff and aren’t too busy.

Ellie: Nice try. Ik this isn’t Y/N – my guess is Pina, Bruna or Patri. My girl definitely can’t ask me out like that. But tell her, yes, I would like to go out for coffee with her tho. After ur next home game? xxx

Her girl? You liked the sound of that. You took a deep breath and typed your response.

Y/N: Hi

Y/N: Yes pls to the coffee

You waited a little before rushing to add,

Y/N: It’s actually me now btw

Ellie: Ik – my girl txts exactly as she talks x

You blushed, the world around you fading into obscurity as you texted. You missed the soft smiles and caring looks the others gave each other. You sighed happily, looking up to see all eyes were on you again.

“Ayyyyyy,” Patri cheered.

“Cariño tiene novia” Alexia sang happily, reaching around Ingrid to pinch at your pink cheeks.

“Ingrid, make them stop.” You muttered as you watched the younger girls dance around singing about how they got you a girlfriend.

“No chance, kjære.” She smiled, bringing you into a gentle hug. “Just wait until Maps and Lucy hear about this.”

I hope you liked it <3<3<3

391 notes · View notes

nariism · 10 months

Text

i loved you on a moonlit summer night

pair. diluc ragnvindr x gn!reader

content: tooth-rotting fluff, love at first sight, allusions to reincarnation but no actual instances of reincarnation

synopsis. diluc knows that he doesn't belong in mondstadt anymore. he doesn't belong anywhere— no place to truly call home and nothing in this world but vengeance in his heart. but on a wintery day on dragonspine, he finds his salvation: a box of cecelias, a fire seelie, and the owner of the best flower shop in the city.

wc. 8.4k

a/n: thank you to my beautiful @hyomagiri for beta reading, helping edit and hyping this fic up to the max. i ended up feeling confident enough to post this because of her, three cheers for ellie i love you to the moon and back <3

WINTER

It wasn’t his fault. How was he supposed to know that buried beneath blankets of snow and sheets of ice, there would be Cecelias?

Fire seelies are usually reliable with a bounty of treasure waiting at the end of their path. He isn't sure why it led him here, to some inconspicuous pile of snow which he hastily melted without realizing there was something precious hidden within.

The mistake doesn’t register with Diluc until the sweet scent of flowers and ash and burning wood wafts under his nose. He blinks in confusion at the pile, perfectly burnt to a crisp and resting at the tip of his boots.

Boxed up flowers? What are they doing out in the middle of the mountain?

He remembers then, a story someone once told him— he can't put a name to the voice but it echoes in the hollow chambers of his heart:

"Did you know that you can preserve the freshness of flowers? All you have to do is box them up nice and tight and store them in the snow."

It's an interesting tidbit of information. He can't for the life of him remember where he heard it from, though.

Wind howls in his ears, powdery snow from over the horizon plowing down the mountainside and into his face. It doesn't deter him from examining the scene. The fire seelie floats just above his shoulder, quiet now as it looks at the pile.

He’s entirely distracted by the sight, unsure of what to make of the strange discovery, until he hears the crunch of snow behind him. With the Fatui lingering around the foot of the mountain, he expects to whip around and face an enemy. He even braces himself to be knocked off his feet by a wild boar.

Instead, his sudden movement frightens you and makes you stumble back until you fall flat onto the ground.

There’s a long pause of silence that stuffs the air, neither you nor him tearing your eyes away from each other. You freeze like a deer caught in headlights, so still that it looks like you've succumbed to the frozen climate of the mountain. He breathes a slow sigh of relief when a wavering exhale leaves your lips in the form of a puff of cloudy air.

The heart resting in his chest stirs. An ancient dull ache, thrumming in the depths of his body as he looks at you in surprise.

Again, there's a voice in his ear. This time, he recognizes it as his father:

"Your mother? I fell in love at first sight."

Growing up, he never quite understood that string of words. First sight? How could someone fall in love at first sight?

Diluc Ragnvindr is a million things, but romantic is not one of them. Love at first sight is a silly fairytale that parents tell their children to tuck them into bed. It's something that could never exist in such a cruel world, plagued by monsters and evil.

It's easy for him to close his heart off to the idea of something as ridiculous as love at first sight, despite the way his eyes haven't left yours. And he's painfully aware of the way you're looking at him too, but he does his best to ignore your gawking.

Maybe he's catching a cold. He doesn't feel well all of the sudden.

Your gaze drifts to the pile of ash just behind him and you sigh, putting your head into your hands wet from snow.

"You found my seelie," you murmur, sounding very unimpressed. He blinks at you until you continue, "Those were important, you know. They were for a very special occasion."

Diluc takes in your form, clothes thin and unfit for the snowy conditions of Dragonspine. Even without the chilly altitude of the mountain, this winter in general was particularly bitter. He almost wants to scold you for dressing so thoughtlessly, even though he doesn't know your name.

"My apologies. I will reimburse you whatever the cost, and more."

"It's... not about that," you tell him from your place on the ground, still not looking at him. You seem stressed. His heart squeezes terribly.

"Not about what?"

"Mora."

He falls silent, so quiet that you finally peer up at him wondering whether or not he's even still standing there. And he is, regarding you with a thoughtful expression. His presence is so unnoticeable despite being right in front of you that it makes your skin crawl.

"How can I make it up to you?" He asks, extending his hand for you to take. Your clothes are soaked through already, cold and frozen from the subzero temperature. It doesn't help soothe his worries that he can feel a storm coming. He should get you out of here as soon as possible.

You huff, allowing him to drag you to your feet. It's then that you realize how warm he is, almost hot to the touch. The faint glimmer of a Vision dangles on his hip. Your eyes flicker back to his and he nearly jolts out of his skin.

"Don't worry about it. It's alright," you tell him though you sound disingenuous about it. You're obviously distracted, probably wondering how to explain to your client that their expensive flowers ended up as a pile of ash.

"It was my mistake. Please, let me know if there's anything at all I can do," he replies earnestly.

"Really, it's fine," you sound slightly exasperated by his stubbornness. If it were anyone ordinary, they would have taken your mercy and left you to freeze on the mountain without a second thought.

Diluc Ragnvindr is no ordinary man.

It takes him a moment to realize his hand is still gripping yours rather tightly. He recoils with an awkward cough.

“What are you doing out here in the mountains?” He asks. It dawns on him then what a stupid question it is, since you’ve obviously come to collect your frozen flowers. You tell him anyways:

"I buried some flowers further up the mountain a few days ago," you sigh, "not sure if I can find them anymore, though. That's why I've been following this little one around."

You scratch under the seelie's chin. Well, where you would imagine its chin to be, at least. It seems thrilled by the affection.

"It's going to storm soon. You should head back down the mountain and try again later."

"It's urgent," you insist, ready to brush past him and continue the trek up.

He stops you with your wrist in his hand. "Then please, let me accompany you to the top of the mountain. It isn't safe with the Fatui lingering around. It's the least I could do."

You eye him hesitantly, but then your shoulders relax and you sigh again. "Okay, okay. We should hurry and get out of here, then."

He wordlessly follows you up the trail, watching your movements carefully. While you don't seem suspicious, he can never be too sure when it comes to the Fatui. Save for the rustling of pine trees and the soft crunch of snow beneath your boots, empty silence fills the air.

It drives him crazy. So crazy that he decides to speak.

"What's your name?"

The name that leaves your lips makes him smile. He can only think that it really does suit you.

"My name is–"

"Diluc. Diluc Ragnvindr, right?"

Heat creeps up to his cheeks. Of course you know who he is. He's the most famous person in all of Mondstadt, for Archon's sake.

"I've seen you around the city," you quickly explain, awkwardly fumbling over your words. "And at festivals and such."

Before he can dwell too much on it, your seelie chirps— once, twice, three times as it dives into the snow and slowly melts it away. You suddenly halt in your steps, crouching down to sift through the remainder. An exhale of relief leaves you when you dig out a box, intact and frozen to the touch.

He looks on in curiosity. Your hand brushes the snow off the top of the box and you open it, revealing another couple dozen Cecelias.

"Thank goodness..." and your seelie seems to agree, because it dances around your head with a pleased noise.

You're too busy admiring the flowers to realize the snow has kicked up. He's too busy admiring you to notice, either. It isn't until the seelie dips in front of your face with a panicked garble that you finally tear your eyes away from your box of flowers.

"It started to snow..."

Diluc's gaze drifts from you to the darkening sky. It's much too late to make your way down the mountain. In his time in Snezhnaya he learned one very important rule of surviving the cold: you can't outrun snow.

Your seelie leads you to a small cave in a section of rock, covered in starsilver and crystalflies. There isn't any kindling to make a fire, and he isn't willing to brave this type of storm just for some wood.

Diluc shrugs his coat off his shoulders and wraps it around your shoulders in a single motion. Heat envelops you, warmer than the fire seelie that guided you through the mountains. It’s a warmth that fills you from the pit of your stomach all the way to the tips of your fingers.

The seelie floats between you, trying to do its best to keep the both of you in its light.

It's comfortable and quiet for a while— not a peep from either of you as you listen to the howling of wind and snow outside.

How did Diluc ever end up here?

Bad luck, karma, anything that would explain why he ended up snowed in atop Dragonspine with you— anything at all other than it was in the stars' design that he be with you right here and now. Fate mocks him.

Even worse, there's a voice in his head telling him that this is exactly where he needs to be right now. He's getting a migraine.

Diluc watches you sift through the remaining ashes of the burnt box, trying to see if there's anything you can salvage. Unfortunately, Diluc's Pyro vision was only good for combat and keeping you warm at this moment.

"I'm... really sorry," he says again, looking away sheepishly. He can't bear to look at the disappointment furrowing in your brows.

The sound of a sigh echoes in the cave, and he finally manages to look at you. To his surprise, you're only staring back at him with soft eyes: no contempt, no anger, no disappointment. It makes his heart sink, not only with guilt, but also because there's just something so sweet about you that it makes him want to hold you closer.

"It's okay. At least a majority of them survived. It'll be plenty."

"If you don't mind me asking, what were they for?"

"A bouquet for a wedding. The bride specifically asked for Cecelias, since it was the first bouquet he ever gifted her," there's a fondness on your face that makes him snort. You look at him funny. "What? It's romantic."

"They're just flowers. What's so sentimental about that?"

"They're not just flowers," you frown, scooting a little closer into his side to soak up more of his heat. The fire seelie's light flickers against your face. "Cecelias only grow in extremely windy places. They're illustrious and elegant, even after growing in such harsh conditions. Isn't that just..." you smile at him, slow and warm. "It's beautiful."

Diluc considers your explanation for a moment, tugging his coat around your shoulders tighter. "I suppose so."

"You suppose?" You laugh. "My my, I didn't know Diluc Ragnvindr was so down-to-earth when it comes to romance."

Your laugh is doing terrible things to him. There's something about it that reminds him of the days he spent wandering the Winery as a boy with Kaeya in tow. The nights he would spend catching crystalflies. Times long since passed. He suddenly aches to be back among the grapevines.

"I don't indulge in that sort of thing."

He never could, so long as there was something ugly and bitter and tainted in his heart.

"You've never fallen in love?"

"Not once."

Love like that doesn't exist. Not in a world like this.

He repeats what he believed was true, chants the mantra in his head until he's dizzy as if trying to convince himself that he isn't already lost in you. The warm orange glow of the seelie dances in your eyes, lights up your smile in a way that makes his stomach turn.

I fell in love at first sight. They were words that he couldn't understand until today.

"Is that so?" You muse, slotting your head in the space between his jaw and shoulder. He doesn’t move away. "You're an unusual man, Diluc."

"Maybe I am."

But he knows that the moment he met you, everything was about to change. You don't even dignify him with a glance as you say it:

"Let's fall in love, then."

The demand is simple and he's absolutely positive you're joking. Something in his soul tugs anyway. He swears one thing at that moment: someway, somehow, he'll make it all up to you.

You are, after all, the first person to remind him of home in a long time. Every aspect of you is so comforting and familiar, even if he can't quite place his finger on it yet.

You reach out to pet your seelie, even though you know your hand will phase through it. "You sure did lead me to some strange treasure, hm?"

It trills happily with a little twirl.

Diluc meets you in winter, in the valley between the peaks of Dragonspine. He meets you, and it smells of burnt wood and ash and Cecelias. It's so cold that you can't feel your fingers but you're smiling in the afterglow of a seelie nonetheless, and so is he.

SPRING

He learns that you own the little flower shop at the edge of Mondstadt, just within the front gates of the city.

You're teaching a young girl, Flora, how to nurture them. And he finds it a little endearing, the way you're so gentle not only with Flora but with the flowers you're showing her: daisies and tulips and Windwheel Asters, all of which are in season right now.

Diluc recognizes you when you open back up for spring, surrounded by boxes stuffed with fresh bouquets. You seem to be in a rush getting organized, holding a stack of boxes instead of taking them one by one and clumsily scattering them around so you can go through them.

He stops you by stepping in front of you, two hands on either side of the stack to steady them as you stumble to a halt.

"Diluc?" You peer from around the boxes. He can only see your curious eyes from this angle. He laughs.

"Sorry to interrupt you when you're so busy. Do you need help?"

"Well–" you do a little hop to straighten up the boxes in your arms, "–it would be nice to have an extra set of hands getting everything ready for the Windblume Festival." You contemplate his offer for a brief moment, then ultimately decide against it. "But I would hate to steal you away from your other responsibilities. You're helping with the festival too, right?"

"I owe you one. Think of this as a favour from a friend," he refutes stubbornly.

"I'm sure many would be missing the help of Diluc Ragnvindr," you tease, shifting around so that your body tilts toward him.

It's then that he can finally look at you fully, with a soft orange apron tied around your waist and Windwheel Asters in your hair to match.

One day, you would go on and explain to him that it was sort of like advertising, and that showing off how nice the blooms look as an accessory brought in a lot of business. Right now all it does is render him breathless.

"They can afford to miss me.” He can't help the smile that creeps its way onto his face at the sight of you— he feels silly about it too, like some lovesick little boy.

You hand off the boxes into Diluc's arms. "Can they? I heard you were supplying all of the wine for the festival. That's a tall order," you giggle, bending down to grab another two boxes of flowers.

"It's... manageable," he answers, making a mental note to himself to buy Adelinde dinner some time as a thank you. "What about you? What are all these boxes for?"

"We're holding a flower gifting service in the plaza, on the night of the big party." He looks at you curiously as you continue, "You can send someone you care for a flower or two, or you can send them anonymously if you just wanted to make someone's day!"

"Sounds..."

You smile knowingly. "Romantic?"

Diluc places the boxes down on the ground and pries the lids off, revealing more and more ready-to-bloom flowers. "Yeah. Romantic," he sighs.

"These will all be in full bloom in time for the festival.” You lean down behind him where he's crouched down, until your chin is nearly resting on his shoulder. He's sure his breath hitches so loud that you can hear it.

The following weeks entail complete mayhem. With the end of spring rapidly approaching, excitement buzzes throughout the city. Notably, he overhears many talking about your business and the new flower gifting service.

The Windblume Festival is a special time for Diluc. His father used to take him and Kaeya as children, back when the world was a little happier. On the night of the festival, he stands at the booth contemplating. Unlike a majority of the citizens of Mondstadt, he has not a clue who to give a flower to. Flora frowns.

"Um, mister, are you ever going to write a name down?"

The quill halts just above the piece of paper. "I don't have to sign my name, do I?"

"You can send it as a secret."

Diluc looks up from where he's bent over, observing you from a few feet away. You're conversing with some ladies who are interested in your bouquets. It was a good business idea to do something like this.

He only meant to support your idea as a friend. Now he's conflicted on whether or not he should dare to write your name.

You look absolutely radiant tonight with magical crystal chunks strewn about your hair and a crown of flowers circling your head. He isn't sure he's ever seen someone so beautiful.

He finally decides. When you turn back around to give him your attention, he's gone.

He's sure that will be the end of it, and that after tonight your brief and strange relationship with him will come to an end. But then you come bounding up to him just as he's about to head out.

"Look! A flower!" You exclaim, shoving it into his face. He's pleased that you like the one he picked out for you.

"Yes, I see that. It's nice."

"Nice? Nice?! It's adorable! I've never gotten one before."

He looks at you funny. "Never?"

"Nope," you laugh sheepishly. "I don't really get out much. Too busy running the shop."

He takes the flower from your hands and tucks it just behind your ear, adding it amongst the crown of Asters surrounding you like a halo.

"It suits you.”

"Does it?" You ask him quietly.

His heart beats furiously. How could he ever steel himself when you have such a big smile on your face, adorned with flowers and gemstones?

"Will you dance with me?" The question leaves him before he can stop it. You look at him in wonder, with his fingers brushing the hair from your face. Whatever evil overtakes him in that moment, he'll have to thank later, because without hesitation you're dragging him into the middle of the plaza with glee.

You come to learn that he isn't exactly what you'd call an elegant dancer. He only knows movements that he learned at banquets held by his family— basic steps born from obligation.

"I thought you'd be better at this," you tease, allowing him to pull you along by the waist.

"I don't dance," he huffs. "I haven't in a long time."

"We should dance together more, then."

Diluc sighs, but there's a tiny smile spreading across his face. "I guess we should."

"This flower... do you know what it represents?" You gesture to the bloom tucked behind your ear. He shakes his head and you continue, "It means everlasting love."

He laughs at the irony.

"I see. How... fetching."

"I wonder who it was," you smile to yourself. He thinks you look breathtaking.

Diluc's lips curl at your joy. He twirls you under his arm once, twice, then pulls you back into his body as he considers your words.

"Yes, I wonder who," he mutters with an amused expression that you just barely miss. And he knows exactly who, but he's not sure if he could handle seeing you melt into a lovestruck puddle at his admission.

Diluc dances with you in spring, under the warm glow of lanterns and the taste of grape juice staining his tongue. He dances with you, and it smells of the Windwheel Asters that crown your head and mint jelly on your breath.

He tugs you a little closer, just because.

SUMMER

If you were to ask Diluc how he felt about these big "charity" events, he would scoff in your face and lecture you about how they were nothing more than money traps set up by the Knights of Favonius.

He would say it purely out of spite, of course, mostly because he knows Jean is too kindhearted to allow for such shady business. Openly, at least.

His distaste for the Knights and all they stand for are not hidden deep in his heart. He sneers when there's a casualty— mocks their inefficiency at any given opportunity.

You never knew him to be such a bitter man when it came to the Knights. Diluc was good at keeping up his polite and indifferent charade to their practices.

It wasn't until the beginning of summer when you realized his loathing. It was their own incompetence that led a horde of slimes directly into the city, nearly smashing your little shop to bits.

You've never seen him so furious.

Outwardly, he was simply curt with them. He had only a few choice words lined up when they apologized with their heads hung low, watching them with his arms crossed over his chest.

Inwardly, you could see the anger swimming in his eyes.

That was three weeks ago. It leaves a bitter taste in his mouth to think that just three weeks ago, they were leading danger straight into your shop and now here they are, asking you to donate to their cause.

"You're sulking," you tell him from across the table. He immediately sits up straight, jaw relaxing.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"You know," you smile at him, moving one of your pawns forward, "I think the Knights are happy you're here. Relieved, at the very least, that you don't seem mad at them anymore."

He only frowns whilst knocking your pawn over with a bishop. "I wasn't mad at them."

"You were. Even I could tell."

"They almost got you hurt."

"Almost," you remind him with a small huff. "They were just slimes! No harm no foul."

You make a fatal move, but he doesn't even gloat because he's too busy cursing out the Knights in his head.

"I just find it in poor taste that they would ask for your hard-earned Mora after endangering you like that." He shrugs you off nonchalantly, as if you can't see the fire blazing in his eyes at the mere thought of it.

You blink at the chessboard as he checkmates you, slumping back in your seat with a tiny pout. "Once again, you've bested me."

"It seems I have," he says, lips finally twitching up into a small smile.

"Don't you ever get tired of beating me at this game? I sure do."

"That's a shame. Same time tomorrow?"

He watches with a laugh as you grumble in irritation. You can't help but notice how quiet it is, even over the chatter of the people in the plaza. There's something off about him today.

It's clear that he doesn't want to be here, volunteering his time to the Knights for a cause he has no faith in. It was a favour for Jean, he told you, to which you mused that he owed a lot of friends favours.

To be a noble in Mondstadt, and especially the wealthiest, Diluc is obligated to attend all sorts of gatherings he detests. You can see it written all over his face.

"Hey," you call out to him softly, leaning over the table. Your voice is a hush as you tell him: "Let's get out of here."

He glances around. "I'm expected to be here, you know?” He laughs once more, though he seems to be considering your offer. He decides to indulge you. "Where would you like to go?"

You think for a moment, brows furrowed. He watches the minute twitch of your lips, the creases of your smile; everything about you is so alive and beautiful.

Then, you point. You point high, with a breathless giggle.

"There," you say, gesturing toward the giant statue of Barbatos, "let's go up there."

He almost flat out rejects you, wanting to scold you about how dangerous it would be and that, for someone without a vision, you sure do have the gall to even suggest it.

But then he sees the excitement twinkling in your eyes, which are already scrunched up from how big your smile is. How could he refuse?

Diluc ends up trailing behind you, inconspicuously hugging his coat close to his body. You don't realize why until you're standing at the feet of the statue.

You gasp at the bottle of wine tucked into his coat. "Did you steal that?"

"The Winery provided all of this. I would hardly consider it stealing," he chuckles.

You nudge him with your elbow, a grin on your face as you accept the bottle into your hands. "I didn't know you were so sly, Diluc."

"I used to do this all the time when I was a kid."

"Steal wine bottles?" You look at him with wide eyes and an impressed smile.

"The maids forbade me from drinking at the Winery's banquets. Try telling a thirteen year old boy not to do something, see what happens," he huffs in amusement.

"You don't even like wine," you remind him. Diluc only hums in response, grabbing it and stuffing it back into his coat as he takes his first leap up the stone.

"Consider it a gift.” He twists around so he can look down at you where you stand, watching him with a mixture of fascination and horror.

His hand extends to yours. For as many times in this life as he is willing to offer it, you would take it.

He helps haul you up to the very top, barely breaking a sweat as he watches you climb beside him. After all, he withstood countless adversaries in his time in Snezhnaya: climbed mountains as tall as the sky with nothing but his claymore.

When you ask how he's so calm about this, he only tells you that he used to climb to the roof of the manor when he was a boy.

He had a lot of secrets kept caged up in his body, you realized many months ago. Diluc was never too vocal about his time before he returned to Mondstadt.

You do remember, however, that at the banquet they threw for him to celebrate his return home, he seemed cold and indifferent to the warm welcome. In fact, it was like his mind was entirely elsewhere. You can picture the day well— it was the largest order of flowers you'd ever received after all.

You're glad he's settled back into Mondstadt, at least. You just never thought you'd have a chance to actually meet him.

He watches as you nervously teeter over to the edge of the statue, peering down with a nervous gulp. You relax when his hands steady you, gently guiding you to sit down in a more safe position.

"I've never been so high up off the ground!" You cry out toward the city, feet dangling over the edge of the Archon's hands.

"It's nice, isn't it? Much different than the kind of heights you feel on Dragonspine."

You take in a long breath of fresh air, as if savouring the wind at this height. "It's pretty.” You finally conclude. There's a dreamy sigh on your lips that makes him laugh.

He uncorks the bottle he lugged up with him, passing it over to you. Instead of taking it, your head tilts back and he takes the opportunity to pour the wine past your lips himself.

Silence festers between you two as he pours the sweet alcohol into your mouth, all rational thought being carried away by the wind.

He isn't sure how long you stay that way: shoulders touching, hair blowing, and feet dangling in the air. For someone who wanted to climb the statue to see the city, you sure are being shameless in your staring directly at him.

You're looking at him in a way that makes him melt— eyes so laser focused and crinkling with your smile. You look at him like he's the only person in the world. Right now, he might really be that important. His heart swells in his chest.

"What is it?" Speak your mind. Let me hear all your crazy thoughts.

"You came all the way up here with me. You came up here. With me."

You emphasize your point by extending your arms out to your sides, feeling the breeze wash over you.

He knows what’s coming next. You love clichés. And he doesn't stop you, for some reason, when you open your mouth again just as he predicted.

"I think I'm falling for you."

"I would hope not. We're pretty high up in the air."

You swat his arm with a huff, face turning a little more serious. "I mean it!"

Diluc grows quiet, looking out toward the city. His home. The place he grew up, and the place he'll spend the rest of his days. The distant sound of people chattering, water flowing from the fountain, music playing: all sounds he's grown so familiar with and yet—

"I love you."

—he never thought it could be so beautiful until he climbed up here with you.

"You love a lot of things," he muses.

"Like what?"

He looks at you softly. "Like Cecelias. Mondstadt hashbrowns for breakfast. And you say you hate the cold but I know you love it up in Dragonspine— think it looks so pretty with all the snow."

You nod, mulling over his statement before asking: "What else?"

"I know you love that orange apron; Flora's mother sewed it for you herself, didn't she? And you love Anemo slimes, think they're the cutest thing in the world even though I've seen them explode in your face multiple times before."

You're listening to him intently, watching his lips as he lists off all the things he knows about you. And he's been going for so long that you have to wonder if you've really only known him for eight months.

"You love Starfell Lake and making wishes while you blow away Dandelion seeds. You love fire seelies and tea imported from Liyue and going to charity events like this even though you don't owe the Knights any of your time."

Another silence settles between you.

"So I'm a romantic. Even then, you still won't accept that I love you?" You ask him quietly.

He hesitates only for a moment, but you still catch it. "I won't."

"What is it with you and your cynicism about romance?"

"It's not like I don't believe love exists—" He’s looking at you right now, after all: living, breathing proof that Diluc could love something. "—I just... it's not for me."

"Not for you?" You repeat back to him in disbelief. "Love is beautiful, you know. You don't even want to give it a chance?"

You're looking at him earnestly, both hands pressed against the stone of the statue beneath you as you twist to stare him down.

"It's complicated," he murmurs, tearing his eyes away from yours. In his peripherals, he can still see you facing him. He doesn't dare look at you again for the sake of his own resolve.

Love was always a messy emotion for Diluc. To love was to trust completely, to be vulnerable and open. But he's been betrayed one too many times for his heart not to ache at the idea of falling in love so willingly.

It terrifies him— to have someone holding his heart in their hands with the chance that they could crush it into dust with the snap of their fingers.

Diluc was alone for many years in the northern region of Snezhnaya. He's good at being lonely. It's a part of the air he breathes, something engraved deep into his bones, terrible and grim and consuming his flesh until he's nothing.

He hadn't even realized he had grown accustomed to it. Not until he met you. Not until you stole his heart at first sight. Not until you made him understand all those times his father would speak of his mother once she was gone. It was always easier to be alone until he met you, and suddenly you came along and flipped the whole world onto its head.

Now Diluc can't be alone— he was losing the ability to sit in solitary silence without his thoughts screaming in his ears. He was constantly thinking about you. And it was always distracting things, like wondering when he would see your smile next, or when you would ever dance with him again.

Your head falls against his shoulder, hair tickling under his chin as you rest there. As if it were a remnant of eons past, his lips find the crown of your head reflexively. And you don't pull away by any means, allowing him to be affectionate the only way he can and accepting him as he comes.

The words don't need to be said anymore. He already knows. It's a story rewritten a million times over, buried somewhere deep in his soul.

He decides that maybe, just once in this life, it would be okay to take the risk. If it was you, he would be alright.

His arm comes around your waist protectively, pulling you closer into his body as if you'd disappear with the wind if he let go. He holds you there quietly, listening to your soft murmurs.

Diluc Ragnvindr deserves to be loved, is what you're telling him.

And despite the scars littering his body and the chains wrapped around his heart, he allows himself to believe it.

Diluc loves you in the summer, in the hands of the Anemo Archon. He loves you, and it smells of Dandelion Wine and the lingering scent of sweet flowers in your hair and all the things that make him dream of you.

For the first time since he returned to Mondstadt, he doesn't feel alone.

AUTUMN

It's the anniversary.

Diluc remembers the day too well— the smell of blood and flesh and how cold a corpse is. Sometimes it's all he can think about.

He cried when his father passed, as all boys would. Then, a fire replaced the hollow sadness in his heart, something fierce and dangerous and unhinged.

Fierce and dangerous and unhinged. Descriptors that he would consider second nature to him behind closed doors of the Tavern and hidden in the grapevines of the Winery. No one would ever know the real Diluc Ragnvindr, hellbent on vengeance since he was only a boy crying at his father's grave.

It wasn't until you came along that he felt something new blooming within him— something like beautiful flowers and a heartbeat slow and steady as waves on the shore, a yearning so powerful that it displaced the ugly bitterness in his heart.

Nowadays, Diluc felt like a confusing mixture of both light and darkness— treading the thin line that separated him from living in the moment with you, and seeking revenge for the past.

He doesn't realize the conflict within him has been bubbling into a raging fire, tearing him in half from the inside out, until today.

He talked to you about his father once, over a plate of sugar-frosted slime and Liyue imported jasmine tea. It was a day like any other, with you seated across from him having an afternoon snack.

My father liked sugar-frosted slime, he told you. It was the first time he'd ever let it be known that Crepus was on his mind, ever so present. A ghost haunting him. You didn't think much of it. Diluc seemed perfectly content living through his memories.

It was coincidence that brought you here on the exact day the world lost Crepus. Or, perhaps, the nagging voice in the back of your mind telling you to get out of bed and come here.

Your son is a wonderful man, is what you first whispered to the grave. And then you couldn't stop the words from pouring out of you, rambling on and on about how he raised a good boy, and how Diluc had taken your heart the moment you laid eyes on him.

He finds you sitting there in the rain with a sad excuse for an umbrella popped up above your head. His father's grave is adorned with flowers of all kinds— a respect that no one had ever paid him before.

You don't realize how much you move him with such a simple act. He had long since lost faith both in the Knights and the citizens that once looked up to his father so much; after all, it was only he and Kaeya who ever came around to visit.

It's not until he crumbles to his knees beside you that you even notice his tears, your smile fading as he looks at you in confusion.

You're not sure you've ever seen Diluc cry before.

"What are you doing here?" He asks, head tilting into your palm when you reach forward to wipe his tears with your thumb.

"Saying hello," you respond as if it's the obvious answer.

"You... huh?"

"It would be rude to fall in love with you without at least introducing myself first."

"You didn't have to do—" Diluc gestures to the grave, "—all this."

You smile. "I wanted to.” And the truth is as simple as that.

You were too good for this world. Something beautiful in a place where only ugliness lives. He almost hates how much hope you give him.

The world was always black and white for Diluc. Recently, he's been finding it hard to distinguish the two.

There was right and there was wrong and there you were teetering between them, balancing hope and despair. It scared him to think of all the ways he could lose you, how he could one day end up bringing flowers to a grave with your name on it just as you did for his father.

What's the point of love if all it ends with is hurt?

He's sniffling, trying to chew on his bottom lip to distract himself from the ache in his chest. You notice his sudden quietness, turning to look at him.

"Hey.” Your voice is soft, as if he would shatter if you even spoke to him wrong right now. He might. "It's just me. It's okay."

"I don't cry. I hate crying," he admits through his tears.

He can't remember when he had cried last. Was it the day he came home? Or was it longer, like during those lonely nights spent hiding away in the mountains? The only vivid memory he has with tears staining his cheeks was the day his father died.

"You don't have to be ashamed of crying," you tell him, using your thumbs to wipe his lashes. "There's nothing wrong with that."

"I'm Diluc Ragnvindr. I'm not supposed to cry."

"You're Diluc Ragnvindr," you repeat back slowly, pulling his head toward you and cradling it against your shoulder. "You're human. What's wrong with that?"

Diluc doesn't feel human. He hasn't felt human in a long time. He's been something more like a ghost wandering around the places he used to love. Memories tainted by hatred and grief, it was as if he would never find beauty in this world again.

"I'm not," he breathes. "I'm not anything."

You pry him off of you. He blinks at you through his tears.

"Do you really believe that?"

He goes quiet, only staring at you as he soaks in your earnest eyes.

"I don't know what I am. I don't know what to do in this world anymore."

He's a mess of emotions— he almost wishes he were back in Snezhnaya where everything made sense. Where his entire existence was built up of seeking retribution. To a time when he knew where he belonged.

Diluc Ragnvindr only ever knew revenge. Only ever knew how to inflict pain. Only ever knew how to break kneecaps and hide in shadows and keep his lonely body warm with his Pyro vision.

He doesn't know love. He doesn't know how to do it without fighting the fire burning in his stomach when he grieves—

"You're just Diluc. Do you ever need to be anything more than that?"

—or maybe he hasn't given it the chance it deserves. The chance he deserves.

He realizes then, what love must be. What kept him up at night, the feeling raging in his chest:

There was no corner of Teyvat he could ever call home without you anymore. He belonged here, with you.

And accompanied with this realization is something that he hasn't felt in many years. Peace. A stillness in his body and the calm in his mind which was usually racing with contemplation— something he never thought he would feel again.

And it's because of you. Only you. It would only ever be because of your love.

"Would you accept me as I am?"

You smile. "I always have."

"You don't know who I am. The things I've done."

"Are they that bad?"

"Awful."

You hum in thought, thumb mindlessly brushing his cheek back and forth. "We have all the time in the world for you to explain," you add with another soft smile, "I believe you have your reasons. I believe in you."

He laughs, exhales shaky. "You're insane."

"Am I? But I think you're falling for me anyways."

So what if he is? He can't find a single reason wrong with it anymore.

The rain has started to let up, the world around him lighting up with warm sun. And you look so radiant like this, surrounded by the fog brought in by the storm and shining in sweet sunlight.

"Do you think we have your father’s approval?"

He doesn't have to answer that. Not when you're already leaning in closer to him.

The diminishing pitter-patter of rain against your shabby umbrella fills his ears. You're so close that he swears he can hear your heart thundering in your chest.

Diluc has always been brave; he was a terrible troublemaker of a child that grew into a body too big for a boy— some part of him that he kept locked away for the sake of living his life as his father would have wanted. If he wanted to lead an empire of a business, he would need to grow up eventually.

He's always been brave, but he was still too much of a coward to stop using his father as a way out. Because he knows Crepus would have wanted Diluc to find happiness, not vengeance.

It's about time he stopped being afraid.

"I think he wants me to tell you something."

"And what's that?" You smile.

"That in this life—" he breathes, "—in this and the next and the one after until the stars of Teyvat run out, I will love you."

You snicker. He can feel it rumbling in his own chest. "How romantic," you tease with his breath in your lungs.

He shuts you up with his mouth.

Diluc kisses you in autumn, with the golden leaves of change. Diluc kisses you warm and sweet and long. He can't remember what was filling his senses at that moment. Your bodies were too close for him to care.

WINTER

Winter was always a bothersome season.

Even in his days away from Mondstadt, in all the time he spent roaming the north, he never quite grew accustomed to the freezing temperatures and harsh weather.

When Diluc left for Snezhnaya, he left his childhood behind, too. He abandoned who he was on the doorstep of his manor, put all his funds into the hands of Adelinde with no intent of returning, and left in the middle of the night without a word.

Half of him expected to die. The other half expected to not return by choice.

For the first few months he spent adjusting to the northern climate, he tucked himself away in a hidden cavern away from the Capital where the Tsaritsa resided. He was in no condition to battle, let alone challenge a god.

He spent many days stealthily hunting down lower ranking Fatui— people that no one would miss. At eighteen years old he had enough blood on his hands to guarantee Celestia's smiting. Blood that, as he learned, does not wash off.

He had to teach himself how to travel through thick snow. Through blizzards and hail and subzero temperatures nothing alike to those felt on Dragonspine.

And when he finally returned home, battle worn and hardened and cold, he couldn't stand the snow. Every crunch under his boots reminded him of the times he had to lug around his greatsword through treacherous enemy lines. Even the sound put him on edge for incoming attacks.

It wasn't like he was ever particularly fond of the cold but for a long time, as a boy, he would simply tolerate it. He had his Pyro vision, after all, and it never truly caused him any harm.

When Kaeya received his Cryo vision, things took a turn.

The cold represented nothing but death for Diluc. It was pain and grief and sorrow— loss in magnitudes indescribable to anyone else. It was bloodshed, the terrible stench of flesh, metal on metal. It was homesickness.

There was nothing poetic or beautiful about it. It only reminded him of all the things he had lost.

He would roll his eyes when Venti sang about the first snowfall of the season. His Pyro vision would glow until the ice melted around him. It's impractical, he told you when you first met and he was guiding you back down the mountain. It doesn't do any good except make you slip and fall.

Diluc remembers quite vividly how you snorted at that. And, like always, you went on to say things that would make his head spin. Find beauty in life even where you think it doesn't exist.

He didn't heed your advice all too much, instead grumbling about how his claymore was getting heavy and that he wanted to get back to the Winery as soon as possible.

But then he found that it was hard to ignore your words. Especially when you were showing him exactly how to do it— popping frozen grapes into his mouth that were somehow a little sweeter; mixing him hot cocoa the way your mother taught you; throwing snowballs at him from behind trees and thinking you've won until he nails you straight in the face in retaliation.

Winter always brought a smile to your face. And how could he not smile when you are?

The best part of it all was that the cold made you cling to him a little closer. A little tighter. So close that he swears he can hear your heart beating in his own ears, savouring his warmth unlike anyone he'd ever met before.

"My personal fire seelie," you joked once. He pinched your cheek until you slapped his hand away and buried your face back into his chest.

Diluc is pretty certain that he hasn't been this happy in a long time. Not since before his father passed, at least. Even with the nervous sigh that leaves him, you're urging him forward.

"I can't believe you never learned how to skate!"

"It's... not something noble families would have approved of."

"But you have this whole lake in your backyard!" You gawk. He only stifles a laugh, stumbling clumsily into your arms. You catch him as if you'd done it a thousand times before.

"Show me how it's done."

"It's like dancing," you say with an encouraging grin, pulling him along with you slowly. You're half right. Some aspects of it do remind him of a warm spring night, with music playing and your laughter in his ears. On the other hand, he can't seem to keep his skates straight.

"The ice won't fall through, right?" He murmurs anxiously, nodding at the Pyro vision hung on his belt.

"If it does, I'll save you!"

"I don't think you'd be able to carry me up from the water," he deadpans.

"I'd save you," you insist.

"Really?"

"Yes, really! For as many times as you need me to save you, I will."

And you did save him. Though, that statement is better left unspoken for the sake of the heat rising to his cheeks. Instead, he leans in to press a kiss to your forehead.

"I love you," he whispers into your skin.

Find beauty in life. Another set of words he never thought he would understand. But he's staring at beauty right in its face and it smells like Cecelias. Dances like a shooting star. Loves unconditionally.

Diluc always loathed winter, until you redefined it into a thing he missed dearly—

Home.

crossposted to ao3!

🏷️ @rintosei hi babe its up <3

#— whispers in the wind ✧#seriously thank you to ellie #everyone go give her a big hug she deserves the world #diluc #diluc ragnvindr #diluc x reader #diluc ragnvindr x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader

571 notes · View notes

stardewremixed · 1 year

Text

First Kiss with Shane

@hellhoundmaggie requested a first kiss scene with Shane. He was the first guy I romanced in SDV, mostly because it was easy to in the beginning and I wanted that first-year flower dance so badly. 😂 🌸

🎈 In case you missed it - First Kiss with Harvey. 🎈

While Harvey holds a special place in my heart and is generally my go-to husbando, I didn’t want to leave my “first SDV squeeze” in the lurch. I’m trying to expand my experience with writing romance in general. Hope you enjoy. It’s a freakin’ novella. Haha. I don’t do short, and I wanted to show how he fell in love with the Farmer, and she with him.

This is female farmer x Shane = first kiss. This one might be a little more PG.

😉❤️‍🔥🔥

Sweaty palms. Greasy hair. Chubby cheeks and legs. Is this what she sees in me?

Shane stared bleakly at his own reflection in the refrigerator door. It was quiet. Nearly noiseless in the back aisle of the stark JojaMart. A lull in the daily traffic around 4pm on the dot. When his shift ended.

Shane pressed his forehead against the glass, grumbling to himself about his infinite lack of progress on losing weight. Ever since he started going to therapy and quit drinking, he felt confident that his life would turn around. Like magic.

However, life outside the rehabilitation center was much harder than he remembered. He was still stuck in the same dead-end job. He was still bumming a room off his aunt with his piddly rent And he was still rather plump around his abdomen.

Every time Morris ordered him around, in that pompous high London accent, Shane wanted to give up. To give in. To snatch a beer outta the cooler and gulp away his frustrations.

Instead, he settled for cussing under his breath, and resolving to keep his head down. At least until he could find another job. No one seemed to be hiring in this dying town. The recession was still hitting hard. And he knew he was lucky to get his old job back after nine months in detox and rehab.

It was worth it. It would be worth it. He convinced himself as he puffed a lazy strand of hair out of his eye and continued stocking cartons of overprocessed milk, nothing like his aunt’s fresh bottles or the farmer’s delicious cheeses.

While he was still grossly underpaid, Shane worked out the math. In six more checks, he could repay her. The Jolly Rancher. Just thinking about his silly little nickname for the farmer lady to the north gave him a warm feeling. The kind that alcohol used to give him, only better, more real. Her smile was sweet.

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

When she first arrived in town, Shane genuinely disliked her. All her bubbly, bouncy, jolly persona encroaching on his flat, boring, grumpy existence. He had cultivated a philosophy of "me myself and I" and was perfectly content being alone, sulking into a pitcher of beer at the end of the night. But not really…

Her jovialty grew on him, especially when he would see her around town, helping people out. At first, he figured she was just another city do-gooder come to convert the backwater people to a more modern lifestyle. But her joy and kindness was genuine. Even when he yelled at her to go away, she still murmured a heartfelt apology for disturbing him and then brought him freshly grown peppers or tomatoes the next day like nothing had ever happened.

The Farmer purchased cows from Marnie so she could make her own specialty dairy products. He was seriously impressed. Because what city girl just ups and buys cattle?

Sometimes when he was restlessly tossing and turning in bed (and if was honest, lonely), Shane would wander around in the wee pre-dawn hours. He always seemed to make his way to her ranch. Most of the time, she was out in the barn milking the cows and talking to them like they were her babies, with just a lantern illuminating her soft face. She was so beautiful.

Raising cattle was no simple task. He knew this from watching his aunt. And Marnie had horses, pigs, goats, rabbits and chickens to think of too. He wasn't sure if the new rancher in town, with little to no experience (save her degree in veterinary medicine), was stupid or brave. Over time, he determined she was the latter.

Out searching for a lost cow in a thunderstorm. Not thinking about her own welfare. Only wanting to reunite a terrified animal with its herd.

Fixing fences after wolves knocked down the back posts time and time again. Her fingers bleeding and scarred because of her lack of self-awareness sometimes. And chasing of “’dem there wolves” with sheer willpower... and... a big stick.

Rebuilding the barn from scratch when a wildfire spread down from the mountains. She saved every single one of those animals. And needing treatment for smoke inhalation because she went back in for the tiniest frightened newborn.

He remembered the time she got kicked in the head by one of the cows. Shane was so worried about her, even if he wouldn’t admit it when he carried her to the Clinic. Thankfully, it was only a minor concussion. (And it was an excuse for him to deliver Marnie's special basket of goodies to her twice daily so she didn't have to worry about feeding herself during her recovery).

The rancher struggled for a whole year, after arriving in the Valley. But even when things went wrong, she was up and back at it the next morning with a lightness in her heart and step. It. Was. Admirable.

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

Shane resolved to do better. To be better. She made him think about how things could be different if he wasn't a self-sabotaging jerkwad. The number of times she dragged his sorry ass home after getting plastered at the Saloon was too high to count, even if it was out of her way, even if she said she didn't mind. She wanted him to be okay. To be safe. She said so.

And she half pushed, half dragged him to the Clinic the night things got really dark. When he faced the edge of the cliff and thought "No more!" When he thought death would be a welcome reprieve from his pathetic life.

She never judged him. She didn't enable him like his aunt. She didn't fall apart into a puddle of tears like Jas. She didn't lecture him on the evils of his ways while twirling his moustache like Harvey. Okay. Shane chuckled to himself. Maybe that last part was an exaggeration and unfair to the good doctor.

She. Simply. Cared.

Through her actions.

In the beginning, it was little things. A happy hello. A robust handwave. Then she started pulling up a barstool next to him in the Stardrop. She would ask him about his day and he would always answer the same way. But "go away" somehow morphed into a sarcastic "just peachy" and then eventually a half-hearted "fine, you can sit there." Once she jokingly called him Peaches.

He didn't want to be bothered with her questions and idle chatter. He didn't want to listen to her ranching successes and woes, retold in a much-too-chipper voice. He didn't want to know about Bluebell and Daffodil and Daisy, how Mister Munster was nursing a hoof injury and how Mrs. Butters was expecting her second calf. Why did she think he cared about such details?

But it grew on him. Those rosy, ruddy cheeks, enjoying a hard-earned glass of whatever Gus had on tap. The way her eyes lit up and sparkled when she talked about her animal friends. The way her pale pink lips pouted when she lost a game of Journey of the Prairie King in the saloon arcade. Again.

Shane found himself drawn to her energy. And he found himself missing her on the nights she didn't stop into the Saloon. Which was a rarity, but did happen.

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

Shane knew she was someone special when he would watch the entrance door, breath caught, hoping she would breeze through, and then she didn't. Two days in a row. He started to feel disappointed, but brushed it off. Three days. He started to get concerned. On the fourth night, he went looking for her. And that's when he learned she was sick.

He practically broke down her door when she didn’t answer.

“Aww you were worried,” she laughed weakly, and coughed.

She looked rather pitiful, bundled under the blankets, hair sticking to her cheek, eyes droopy and dark. She thought Marnie would have told him. His aunt had sent a few of her ranch hands to help their neighbor out while she was under the weather. so her cattle weren’t forgotten

No, Marnie never did. He suspected it was because she didn't know it would matter to him. But it did matter. She. Did. Matter.

Without a word, Shane went to the kitchen and returned with a cool towel. He didn't even think. He laid the back of his large hand against her delicate forehead. He could've sworn the little Miss Jolly Rancher blushed. Or maybe it was the slight fever she was running. She audibly sighed as he placed the wet cloth against her burning cheek, closing her eyes and mumbling her thanks.

He wanted to know the last time she ate. She grunted and said something about some cereal earlier that morning. She didn't know for sure. She had slept most of the day. He promised he would be right back.

She told him not to bother, as she struggled to lift her body off the bed, propping up by a shaky elbow. He insisted she lie back down. She was a stubborn one. Her protestations didn't last long as her head was too foggy to think straight. He microwaved a bowl of soup. She tried to sit up again, and he fluffed her pillows so she could prop up.

Her grip on the spoon wasn't firm, her trembling hands an indication of just how weak she was. So he caught the escaping silverware and lifted the soup to her lips. She turned red as a hot pepper, but he eased her with a surprisingly tender words, "Please. Let me take care of you for once, Miss Jolly." His own face and ears were probably red too. But she accepted.

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

Since then, he began the habit of calling her "Miss Jolly." She flushed every time, but he enjoyed flustering her. It was nice… to care… about… someone.

She returned the “favor” and called him Peaches. At first, jokingly, just to annoy him. But over time, even the ridiculous fruity nickname grew on him. She was invading his thoughts and heart and he couldn’t stop her.

He knew he had to change. He had to get better. Alcoholism was a disease that had ravaged his life and he was ready for something better. He couldn’t live like he had been any longer. She had changed everything for him. And he wanted to change in return.

Disappointment smacked cold. He had researched so many places. But the one place that seemed to fit his needs and desired treatment plan was out of reach. Prohibitively expensive. He sold his dad’s watch. His car. He worked longer hours. Maybe in a few years he could make up the difference.

She knew how much he wanted this... and how badly he needed this. Every glance at his savings account wanted to drive him to the bottle, the hopelessness of a solution just out of reach because of his crappy medical insurance. They wouldn’t cover it. Even though he was pretty sure Joja was the reason he drank so heavily.

No, that wasn’t true. It was his own insurmountable guilt. Of surviving the accident. When they didn’t. Of leaving Jas without a respectable father figure. Or a mother. He didn’t even fight when the courts wanted to give him jail time.

His aunt got a lawyer and gave him a place to stay when he got out. She helped him put together a resume and practically shoved the application for overnight backroom clerk in his hands. He had to face the music. He wasn’t cut out for any other job. And it was basically a glorified “stock boy.”

Approaching middle-age, recently released from prison, and overwhelmed with a crushing lack of self worth, Shane interviewed and got the job. He should be grateful. But the hours were grueling and monotonous. Customers were rude. Employees were ruder. Except that Sam kid. He was a ball of sunshine. And his boss was sucking the life outta him.

So he drank. He drank to forget. Because he couldn’t forgive himself. And every time he looked at Jas’ little pained expression, he drank more because he felt... so... damn... worthless.

The Rancher changed things for him. He felt more positive. He got up earlier. He brushed his teeth. He combed his hair. He put on his uniform for the world’s lousiest low-paying job and went to work hoping things would be better.

Faced with the inability to actually “get better” was... frankly... terrifying. What if he went back to being that same old pathetic blob of a human again? After ten agonizing days, he finally confided in the one person he knew he could trust. His “Miss Jolly.”

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

He couldn’t believe he had been moved to tears. She surprised him... again. With her thoughtful generosity and selflessness. She promised to pay for the difference. Whatever he couldn’t afford. She told him it wasn’t a big deal. It was a VERY BIG deal! She still had some of the inheritance money from her grandfather. What she hadn’t spent on fixing up the farm.

“So I don’t get those gingham curtains I’ve had my eyes on for the past month,” she quipped.

It was serious. He couldn’t accept it. He wouldn’t accept it. It was too much. He didn’t like the idea of being indebted. He was stubborn. He could refuse.

But she was more stubborn. She insisted it would be a loan, not a gift. He could pay it off over time. Without interest. Or he could work it off - sweat equity - on her ranch. Maybe with those chickens he liked so much.

In the end, he caved. He packed up what little he could take with him. And she walked him to the bus stop. Kissed his cheek. Squeezed his hand. And said the words that simultaneously made him laugh and warmed his heart.

“Go get ‘em, Peaches.”

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

That was a year ago now. When he came home, she threw a big surprise party for him. A few people from town, his aunt, Jas. And she never looked more beautiful. She even found chicken shaped balloons. Because... what guy doesn’t want balloon animals from the girl he’s crushing on?

Crushing on? He smirked. I sound like a middle schooler.

He split his time between the market and her ranch. Gradually spending more and more time on her farm. Gathering eggs before his shift. Feeding chickens on the way home from work. Sipping peach iced tea in the shade of her porch and thinking this life wasn’t half-bad. But he wanted more.

She started bringing by lunches on his longer shift days. Homemade sandwiches and fresh-pressed juices and handpicked peppers. The kind that burst with sweetness or that spicy kick he needed to get through the rest of his day.

She learned to roll her own dough. Once a week, on hot summer evenings, she would make him pizza with her own special spicy red sauce. Wearing that cute little red and white checkered apron around her jean shorts and just below the edge of her tank top. Too hot to be standing around the stovetop making pizza sauce or the oven to bake the dough. But she did it for him. Shane looked forward to it after a long and grueling Saturday shift.

He still stopped at the Saloon most nights, but now it was just to drink soda and share a pepper poppers appetizer. Gus started bottling root beer, made from bark and flowers and herbs from around the Valley. It wasn’t alcoholic. And it was an acquired taste. Getting better with time.

She would breeze in and offer suggestions and feedback. Shane enjoyed watching the two “play” squabble over the choice of leaves. The kindly saloon owner and the girl he liked collaborating to make him a refreshing drink became a welcome nicety.

Most nights, they didn’t stay long. Heading out for long walks around town. Shoes scuffling along cobblestones. Kicking up dirt on wooded paths. Kicking off on the beach to feel the mushy sand. Talking about nothing important, but always special. Any time with her was special.

He couldn’t believe how lucky he was to have a friend like her. To have a woman of her rare caliber show him any attention at all. She got past his defenses and he welcomed it. And deep in his heart, Shane knew - this was love.

With today’s paycheck, he could finally take her on a proper date. Somewhere out of the Valley. Someplace where they could have fun together. He felt the excitement and nervous anticipation rising in his chest. Somehow he fumbled through an “ask” on her front porch this morning, managing to invite her to join him... if she wanted... at the bus stop... around 5pm. He had tickets to see the Tunnelers play.

Shane finished his shelf, glancing at his watch. Ten past four. Just enough time to get home, showered, and changed. He disposed of the empty boxes in the dumpster and delivered the cart to the back room. Opening his locker, he hung his apron on the hook. Instantly, he felt lighter. Like that thing was a noose around his neck. A ball and chain. He really needed a new job. And in fifty, no, forty-six minutes, he could see her...

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

"SHANE!"

The shrill obnoxious tone pierced his moment of peace. The voice could only belong to one person - a holllow husk of a corporate shill, even more unlikeable than him, if that was even possible. Shane frowned, his eyes clamping on the store manager barreling toward him at full speed.

“A whole second shipment came in just now,” the man grunted. “Like I need this when I’m short-staffed, as always,” he offered an exasperated sigh.

I can’t imagine why... Shane thought to himself, bemused. The boss was insufferable. Always barking orders. Never praising his team. Paying peanuts. Polishing his baby - a silver Rolls Royce in mint condition - parked in the only covered spot in the entire Joja lot - every night - instead of doing paperwork like he should. How was he still employed? No one at corporate cared.

“Not my problem, Morris,” Shane replied.

“No, no, no,” Morris fluttered his short arms. “It is your problem. I need you to stay late and help Sam empty the truck.”

The man continued to ramble something about “this is why I pay you” and “you think you can do better somewhere else?” He badgered Shane about his “work ethic,” even if Shane had been a near model employee since returning from rehab. Even if his former colleagues actually welcomed him back, much to his shock. Shy little Claire even commented on how he was “different” than before.

Shane had been nominated for employee of the month, no doubt, angering Morris. The man had it out for him. Sticking him on graveyard shifts. Making him mop baby puke in the aisles. Forcing him to attend a “hospitality” seminar so he could learn to be nicer to, in Morris’ words, “bored housewives who somehow like your prickly personality.”

Morris, a man who prided himself in appearance, with his neat little bow tie and perfectly ironed jacket, couldn’t believe how the ladies bought more after a rough encounter with Shane. It was good for business, of course, and Morris would take all the credit. That hospitality seminar wasn’t cheap, he constantly reminded Shane. Like rehab hadn’t made him a better person already. Or his relationship with little Miss Jolly.

“They just fawn over your monotone delivery of the daily sales,” Morris droned on. “Yoba only knows why. You haven’t been educated at the finest university this side of the Pond with an impeccable taste in... well, everything.” Morris puffed his chest.

“I just don’t understand why they giggle at the register about the ‘handsome’ stock boy when they could have me recite the daily sales in Shakespearean English for heavens sake. Well, no matter. I can use what I’ve got. You.”

The man thinks I’m a frickin’ pack of meat.

“Now in order to have sales, we must have stocked shelves. And in order to have stocked shelves, I need to have you stay longer. Because shelves don’t stock themselves... and what are you staring at?”

Shane rubbed his jaw, catching his reflection in Morris’ little glasses. Could I really be that handsome? Morris wasn’t wrong. The market had been a little busier than usual in the mornings and around lunchtime. Shane came back from breaks early sometimes because customers “requested” him. He could reach the “tall” shelves.

But he wasn’t that tall. And most times, he needed a ladder. Unlike Sam. But even Sam told him he had been relegated to “cute” because the female patrons wanted to check out the new guy (on the ladder) because Shane possessed a look of danger and mystery, and had that "hot dad bod."

Like that’s really a thing I wanted! Shane rolled his eyes. It's all a little disgusting. Being oogled. Because what? Dangerous? Dad bod? I’m just me. There was only one gal he wanted checking him out. And he needed to get going if he was going to meet her.

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

“No can do, Boss,” Shane removed his Joja cap and hooked it alongside his apron. “Got plans tonight.”

“No, no, no,” Morris’ voice grew tight, his eyes becoming tinier. “That won’t do. You must cancel your plans.”

“Do I get overtime?” Shane asked, half-distracted by the photo occupying the inside of his locker.

It was the only thing he had ever decorated with at work. A photo of him and Miss Jolly at the Moonlight Jellies festival about a month ago. It was the one time he actually thought he was photogenic. How could he not be happy? With a gorgeous gal by his side, smiling and laughing as the photo was taken, a woman who believed in him, rooted for him, and cared for him. Shane’s expression softened as he thought about how much she had impacted his life.

“You know what?” Shane ripped the photo from his locker wall with gusto. “I quit.”

“Are you even listening?” Morris was saying. “And no, I’m not going to approve overtime. You left early by one minute the other night. One minute!"

"And one time last week, you were late by three minutes. I will not approve overtime for someone who nearly runs over a flock of geese with his bicycle and is late to work."

"If you’re going to keep up with this lazy attitude of yours...” he huffed and straightened his jacket. “I may have to reconsider my decision to rehire you... even if you bring in the ladies... I mean... sales...”

“What?” Morris’ eyes grew wide as saucers beneath his horn-rimmed glasses, and then his expression darkened, as if Shane poured bitter coffee all over the plates. “You cannot quit. Are you joking?”

“Well I do, and I’m not,” Shane shoved the old rusty lock that never latched properly into the other man’s hand, a smile crossing his face. “With pleasure.”

Shane waltzed out of the soul-sucking store, leaving a dumbfounded former boss as the double doors whooshed behind him. He closed his eyes and took a big gulp of sea-salt air and sighed. He felt free.

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

When she met him at the bus stop, his heart skipped a beat. She looked radiant in the setting sun. Her eyes sparkling like stars. And her sexy little denim skirt was a nice touch too. The way her hips swayed ever so slightly on approach. He forced his gaze upward.

"Hiiii... Miss Jolly. I'm glad you decided to come," he greeted, his tone a bit stilted and formal.

What am I doing? He rubbed the back of his head.

"Of course, Peaches. I'm excited," she grinned. "This will be my first game."

"You'll love it!" he replied, wrinkling his nose at her childish nickname for him. And I will too with you by my side.

"Is that cologne?" she asked when she reached his side.

Her fingers curled around his hoodie strings as she closed her eyes and took a whiff. "I like it." She grinned and winked at him. "A bit spicy."

"Yeah yeah," he murmured and ushered her onto the bus, but he hopped up the step behind her, feeling a little lighter on his feet.

"You're in a good mood," she remarked as they wandered toward the back of the bus.

The atmosphere was charged. Rowdy. Everyone seemed excited for the Tunnelers game. He nodded to a few familiar faces before settling in next to her seat. The back was better than the front. Cool kids sat in the back. What am I? In the sixth grade?

Still he was relaxed. Smiling even. She repeated her statement as if he didn’t hear her the first time. Damn straight I’m in a good mood. Because I get to spend time with you… maybe even tell you how I feel tonight… He decided the overcrowded bus wasn't the best place for that confession. The vehicle lurched forward and so did the conversation.

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

"I quit my job."

Her eyes widened and a slow smile played at her lips, drawing his attention to them. I bet they're juicy. He had fantasized about kissing her, ever since she planted one on him at this very bus stop twelve months ago when he shipped off to rehab. Out of respect for their “business arrangement” and friendship, he held off on the liplocking, but it didn’t mean he still didn’t wonder what it would be like if he had just turned his head to meet her mouth that night.

“Good for you,” she laid a hand on his shoulder.

Her gentle touch bringing him back to reality and away from his lustful la-la land.

“I knew that place was killing the light in you. I just wish I could've seen Morris' smug face when you finally told him."

"Light in me?" he repeated, ignoring the statement about his ex-manager.

"Yes," she slowly slid her hand up to his cheek, blushing a little while she moved. "You look better. Brighter."

"That's just the shower talkin'," he shoved his hands in his pockets.

"No, it's you, Shane," she replied, dropping her hand far too soon for his liking.

He wanted to beg her to keep it there, against his cheek. But present company dissuaded him, and he remained silent, nodding his thanks. The way she said his name... he bounced his leg a bit in nervousness as the bus bumped along the road... it made his knees weak and his head clouded.

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

"Did I miss anything?"

Shane descended the last step, returning to their seats in the stadium, snacks in hand. The game was tied up, the teams neck and neck in their scoring with each other. It was one of the most thrilling games he had ever seen in person. Even more exciting because she was there. With her incessant questions about the rules. Her exuberance at the Tunnelers' first goal. Even the little wrinkle around her eyes when she didn’t understand what was happening. He loved every minute of it.

And he loved explaining things. Even if he worried about boring her to death with his encyclopedic knowledge of gridball, he couldn’t stop talking. This was something he loved and he was sharing it with the woman he loved... even if she didn’t know it yet.

"Only the announcer making bad jokes," she smirked. “And that guy...” she pointed to one of the pros. “...doing a silly little dance for the fans.”

“Yeah, he’s known for that,” Shane laughed awkwardly, feeling a small twinge of jealousy that another man had caught her eye.

“Not that he’s any good at it,” she laughed too. “Not like our little grooves in the Saloon.”

“Oh?” he quirked a brow. “By the way, I got us some nachos. I asked the vendor to add some hot peppers… just like we like it."

"Like we both like it," she said in unison. "Thanks,” she snagged a chip and did a deep dip into the sauce. “You should've let me pay for snacks since you paid for tickets and the bus fare."

"Naw, we're on a date," he shrugged. "The guy pays. Plus, I wanted to."

Shane averted his eyes, suddenly self-conscious. "Did I tell you how much… I l…love…. Gridball?"

She stopped and looked at him as if surprised by his old-fashioned thought. I shouldn't have been so careless, he grimaced. Then he immediately wished his face wasn't so readable.

It was a date. A real date. But somehow they slid from acquaintances to friends to best friends and then... somehow something more, without ever defining the relationship.

Did she want parameters? Did he need a label? Were they... ever going to be what he hoped to be if he ever got his head out of his ass and asked her for real?

"Yes, only the thousand or so times on the bus," she smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “And I knew you played in high school.”

Just like that, she slipped back to a more neutral topic. And he mentally flogged himself for the missed opportunity.

“Yeah, blowing out my knee pretty much killed my chances at playing pro,” he said. “Doesn’t stop me from enjoying the games though.”

“Have you ever thought about it?” she inquired. “Going back. Maybe the minors or even just a pick-up team. I bet you looked great in a uniform,” her eyes twinkled mischievously. “And I wouldn’t mind the view of you in those white pants.”

Red flooded his cheeks. Is she messing with me? How does she do it? Go back and forth between friendzone topics and flirtation? She made it look effortless. She was toying with him. She had to be. Dancing around the subject. Hoping he would ask. Or was he imagining things?

Her hand hovered dangerously close to his side. Brushing the hem of her skirt. Nearly touching his shorts. He gulped, feeling flattered, but strangely unprepared for her seductive little smirks. He handed her the soda he fetched, and she thanked him, gulping back the liquid as if it were a small instead of a large. Saying something about all the cheering making her thirsty.

He was the thirsty one. Eyeing her up and down and wanting to close the distance between them. Taking it from flirty friends to... faithful lovers. He never wanted a woman more than he did right now. To devote all his love and passion and energy and goodwill into being there for her just like she had for him.

For the whole second half of the game, he nursed his cola. Distracted by her every move. The way she would raise her heels in anticipation of a score and lower them back to the ground when they didn’t quite make it. The way she spoke with that happy voice of hers, the kind that could lull him to sleep or rally him to make his best efforts. The way she repeated back facts she was learning about the sport, that he had literally just taught to her that night. He was completely mesmerized... so much so... he forgot to actually watch the game. For once, he liked the distraction.

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

When the Tunnelers scored again, she nearly flew off the ground, wildly cheering for their unexpected interception. He caught her hand as she was jumping back down. She squeezed it and continued whooping and shaking her fist victoriously in the air, never taking her eyes off the game. It was now or never.

"Hey," he said loudly to be heard over the stadium noise. "I've been meaning to tell you… thank you.”

“For what, Peaches?” she said, teasingly. “Did you see that? How many yards was it? Seventy-five? Eighty?”

“I mean it, really,” Shane cleared his throat, leaning closer to her ear. “ For sticking with me through everything."

She turned to face him, her expression growing more serious.

"My… anxiety… depression… you know," he continued, fumbling over his words. "The alcoholism… I mean, I wasn't exactly the funnest person to be around back then."

Did I just use the word funnest? He rubbed the back of his head, hoping to read her expression, but for once, he couldn't.

“You do that... when you’re nervous,” she remarked. “That head rub thing...” she reached up and ruffled his hair. “It’s... cute.”

“Uh...” Shane trailed off. She was not making this easy. But he needed to say the words aloud now or he never would.

"You… uh… still helped me. You've been a really… good… friend to me," he shared, and then immediately regretted his word choice.

"Oh," she said, quietly.

Was that a flicker of disappointment in her eyes?

He hurried his words. "Anyway this is your first gridball game, huh? Well? What do you think?"

Smooth, Shane. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Changing the subject again, you frickin’ chicken.

"Oh…" she said, glancing back to the field, sounding a little confused. "Fun. I guess, Pelican Town seems pretty boring in comparison. Unless you count Sam's punk rock blaring at 11pm, breaking noise ordinances." She forced a chuckle.

Is she…? Am I imagining things?

"I'm surprised," he replied. "Didn't you move to the Valley to escape the noise of the city?"

She's looking at me again with those beautiful heart-melting eyes. He rushed through his words.

"I mean… don't get me wrong. I totally understand. My life in Pelican Town is pretty bland, you know. And now that I don't have a job, I gotta find something meaningful to do with my time again. A guy's gotta eat, right? Heh?"

"I was thinking about that," she replied, without looking at him. "I think it would be nice to have you around full-time."

"What?" he blinked.

"I've got one ranch hand now to help in the back pasture and one that helps out with the milking and all, but if I'm looking to expand, and if they ever take a sick day, I could use some extra hands," she continued. "Maybe your hands?"

I couldn't. Possibly. Was she blushing?

"You've already… done so much for me," he hated the hesitancy in his tone. "I… uh…"

She ignored his last comment. "This would be a business thing. We could do it temporarily to see if you like it. And if it's a good fit for both of us. I can be a bit of a…" she narrowed her eyes, mischievously. "Hard taskmaster."

"Oh? Yeah I've heard that from your current employees," he smirked. "But you are still a jolly one."

"Yeah…" she smiled, almost shyly, tucking a hair over her ear. “Your Miss Jolly.”

The noise level in the stadium increased near ten-fold. All he could think about was how she said the words. She was begging him, wasn’t she? Walking right up to the brink and leaving him there? He reluctantly ripped his gaze away from the farmer to the field.

"Gah!" he screamed, his volume matching the crowd. "The Tunnelers are on the attack."

"Yes! Yes!" she shrieked. "Oh my Yoba! Final seconds. They're gonna…" she jumped up and down and clapped her hands. "They're gonna break the tie."

"GOAL!" they yelled in unison.

He never felt so happy. He was going on six months sober. He quit his horrible job. The farmer was offering him another one so he could see her every day. And he got to watch his favorite team in the world in the closest game in history with his favorite person in the world. Sharing this moment together meant everything.

"Thank you Shane!" she said, trying to catch her breath. "This was the best evening ever with you!"

"I know, I know!" he exclaimed. "Probably one of the best moments of my life."

Before he could stop himself, his lips were against hers. Surprise flickered in her eyes. All he could hear was the thudding of his own heart. She was flushed. The warmth of her lips. The taste of root beer. The delight overwhelming the alarm bells. He took a step or two back, stumbling as he came to his senses.

"Oh?" he gasped for air. "Uh… um… sorry. I guess I got carried away there. Maybe I had one too many... sodas. All that sugar. Ha!"

Shane reached up to rub his head like he always did when he was nervous, just like she had noticed. Except this time, she strutted toward him, confidence in her eyes as she grabbed that hand and tugged him down. As they kissed for the second time, he felt her melt into his arms as she offered a faint “finally,” barely audible amidst the roar of the crowd.

Encouraged, Shane grinned, hoisting her off the ground. She giggled and kissed him more fervently. Maybe he didn’t need words. Maybe he only needed actions to show her how he felt.

And she was reciprocating. A dream come true. Their eyes remained locked in a loving gaze as he pulled back from her lips. When he finally set her down, he breathed heavily.

"You really do love the Tunnelers?" she teased, disentangling her hands from his hair.

"No," he shook his head, determined not to let this moment go by. "I really do love you."

"Come on, we'll miss our bus outta here," she grabbed his hand and pulled him through the exiting crowds.

“Wait,” Shane pulled her back for one more greedy kiss.

She happily accepted, but he felt a fleeting ping of sadness even as they kissed in the stairwell, people pushing around them. He wondered if she even heard his confession. Maybe it's too soon? We just had our first kiss. She probably didn't hear me.

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

When they reached the parking lot, the reality of what had just happened still sinking in, they were too late. The bus huffed away with a puff of smog. They had just missed their ride back to the Valley. And there wouldn’t be another one until morning. If he hadn’t been so carried away and enamored by his date, maybe they would’ve left the stadium sooner.

“Guess we should call a taxi,” she broke the silence first. “Or... actually... find a hotel.”

“A hotel?” he repeated, his ears perking at the thought of sharing space with her.

"Yes," she replied, without skipping a beat. "I mean, if we're gonna be stuck together in Zuzu overnight, we should get a hotel. A taxi ride would be really expensive and I don't think we have enough time to get across town to catch the train."

"Oh right," he said softly. "Uh… I can't let you pay for a hotel too."

"It's no trouble," she pulled out her cell phone and started scouring the internet for places. "And a hot shower sounds nice after all the sweat and grime of us in there,” she nodded back toward the stadium. “...jammed in like sardines."

"Uhm…" he blinked rapidly. You're a grown man. Get it together.

"This place looks nice," she showed him a picture after a minute or two, while he awkwardly plopped on the edge of the sidewalk. "And it's got a 4-star rating." She sat next to him, dropping her hand on top of his. “Oh look it’s got an in-suite jacuzzi.”

"Uh… sure," he shrugged, uncertain about what to do with his hands that so desperately wanted to kiss her again. "Well, that definitely was a good game."

"Yes, and it's going to be an even better night, because it doesn't have to end here," she smiled sweetly. “Since we’re getting a hotel,” she winked.

“Oh yeah... and we won too,” he stammered. “The Tunnelers, ya know?”

“No... no, I didn’t. Really? They did?" she smiled sarcastically, and leaned closer. “It doesn’t matter.”

“What?” he gasped, feeling shocked as her blase attitude toward his favorite team.

“I mean, it was great... and all... and their win was pretty spectacular,” she acknowledged. “But I feel like I won the lottery with you here.” She interlocked arms with him. “Did you mean it? Shane? When you said you loved me?”

So she did hear me! And the way his name fell from his lips caused his heart to soar and he found his confidence.

“Yes, I meant it. I love you,” Shane replied. “But I wanted it to be special. Better than this... stranded in a parking lot with trash all over the place.”

“It is special,” she replied.

“But it wasn’t perfect,” he grimaced. “I was planning on telling you when we got back... when I walked you back to your place tonight.”

His head felt hazy with love and desire as she kissed him again. This time, she draped a leg over his, pressing against his chest. He audibly moaned, leaning into the kiss. His hand naturally slid down her back to help her balance, and he squeezed softly, like he had wanted to for a long time. She matched his intensity with a clutch of her own, and he groaned again, reluctantly breaking their touch.

“I don’t need perfect, Shane. I just need you."

His heart leaped from his chest as she continued.

"I love you too. I want you.”

“Ahhhh... then let’s get to that hotel,” he said, the heat of her breasts against his chest creating a near uncontrollable fire within him.

“Fine,” she playfully pouted. “I’ll behave... Hot Stuff," she fanned herself. “...for now... since we’re in public.”

“Believe me,” he replied with a heavy sigh, feeling a healthy growth between his legs. “I want you all to myself.”

She giggled and tapped her phone. "Done. Got us booked.”

“That fast?”

“Yes, It’s only a two and a half block walk. Now… shall we?" She jumped to her feet and darted away briskly.

“Someone’s impatient!” he smirked. “What if I had said no?”

“I wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

“Oh really?” he liked teasing her as she brought out his confidence. He started into a jog away, passing her on the sidewalk. “Well, I’ll see you soon.”

“Shane!” she laughed and chased after him.

Of course, he let her catch him. She playfully punched his arm, but then lingered. She was beaming. And he was too. Shane took her hand, looking down at the woman he loved, and smiled, brighter than he ever had in his entire life. She loved him and wanted him… just as he loved and wanted her.

“Shane?”

He wrapped an arm tightly around her shoulder. Tonight, he was going to make her fully his, and he would be fully hers.

"Yes, my Miss Jolly.”

527 notes · View notes

mshroom1e · 1 year

Text

ೃ⁀➷ Trust Fall

type: headcanons

how the twst characters would react to the reader suddenly trying a trust fall on them

1.4k words

Characters: NRC Students

╰┈➤ Riddle

He'd be so caught off guard, he just freezes.

Prolly shreiks too.

You fall on the floor right away.

You get an "off with your head!"

He's just embarrassed and ends up feeling bad for letting you fall.

From then on, he refuses to walk behind you so you don't pull the same stunt again.

╰┈➤ Ace

He let's you fall.

But on purpose.

You fall flat on your back and he just laughs at you.

He helps you up though.

He's still laughing.

╰┈➤ Deuce

Panicks but manages to catch you somehow.

He thought you fell backwards by accident.

Stop you almost gave him a heart attack.

He asks if you're okay afterwards, and you tell him it was just a trust fall, and he's like "oh".

╰┈➤ Trey

He knows what you're up to.

Figures it's one of your usual antics and catches you with a fond chuckle.

Warns you not to try the same thing with Riddle though.

He can't help but to tell you to be careful so you don't get hurt if the person fails to catch you.

He's happy that you trust him enough to try a trust fall, though.

╰┈➤ Cater

He's actually quite quick to catch you.

Like Trey, he knows it's a trust fall.

He laughs and asks you to redo it but this time let him pull out his phone and record you do it.

Posts it under #friendshipgoals

(pls idk how to write this young man)

╰┈➤ Leona

He's like "dafuq" and sidesteps you.

Watches you fall.

It's not out of malicious intent. He just cannot be bothered to use any energy to catch you.

Looks at you on the ground, laughs to himself and walks away.

Calls you an airhead.

Congratulations, you played yourself.

╰┈➤ Ruggie

He's got swift reflexes, so he's another quick one to carry you.

Pay up, since he just saved your life.

You explain it was a trust fall but the cost still stands.

You pull out some madol from your pocket and hand it over to him while grumbling the entire time.

There goes your money for the next month that you managed to scrape together with blood, sweat, and tears. (no thanks to the silly bird man)

He smiles and does his little silly laugh when he gets the money off you, so maybe it was worth it.

╰┈➤ Jack

Goes to catch you but ends up fully lifting you off the ground instead.

He's ended up holding you up like Rafiki and Simba

Like Deuce, he thought you fell over and is hoping you're okay.

He's so nice 💔

You tell him it's a trust fall and he furrows his eyebrows.

Kinda feels embarrassed that he fully lifted you up now.

Awkwardly and silently puts you back on the ground with a straight face.

╰┈➤ Azul

He screams and jumps back

Or am I?

Jokes aside, he's got really good arm strength, so even if he's late to catch you, he still manages to hold you up.

He's so shook his glasses almost fall off and his face is going red from confusion.

Pretty quick to recover and uses it as a business opportunity.

He saved you from falling, so now give him your dorm building.

Theres no friends in the world of business

Sigma grindset haver /j

Mainly uses the businessman front as a cover.

He's still shook but trying to play it off.

Yk how he tries to appear smarter in front of teachers? Well, he's doing the exact same thing but tryna appear calm in front of you.

╰┈➤ Jade

He catches you pretty solid

You hear an ominous "fufufu..." from behind you.

Is disspointed you didn't pass out since now he can't use you as mushroom fertiliser /j

He flashes his usual butler style smile and stands you back on your feet.

Sorry but Jade always seems to be plotting something so I suggest you escape now.

He's already figured it was a trust fall, so no need to explain.

╰┈➤ Floyd

lmao

His reaction depends on his mood ig

If he's default Floyd, he fully picks you up and the next thing you know, you're trapped in a warm but gut crushing squeeze.

Picks you up simba style pt. 2 but it's intentional.

Pls tell me someone else also thinks his hugs would be comfortable.

He laughs with you coz ur so silly.

Puts you on the ground after a bit and ruffles your hair if you're shorter than him (he does that daily and you can't convince me otherwise)

You end up laughing too.

Watch out though, since he might pull the same stunt on you when you least expect it.

Start doing some arm workouts coz he's gonna be a hefty number to lift.

╰┈➤ Kalim

His carpet catches you.

You happen to be in his dorm and its nearby.

His younger siblings do stuff like trust falls all the time so he isn't surprised.

He's also happy you trust him enough to try one with him.

He smiles so brightly it hurts to look at.

After all, it hurts to look at the sun when it's shining.

╰┈➤ Jamil

Is so sick of your bs

Contemplates letting you fall, but he isn't feeling that mean today, so he guesses he can catch you.

Ends up catching you, but it's definitely not willingly.

Don't try it with him again coz next time, you're falling.

╰┈➤ Vil

bombastic side eye

criminal offensive side eye

He gives you the most judgemental, critical look that you even forget why you approached him in the first place.

Bro didn't even give you a chance to test out the fall on him.

Like that one auntie that silently judges you for existing.

He is not wrinkling his perfectly ironed clothes.

You do the walk of shame as you retreat.

Defeat.

╰┈➤ Rook

Man's already caught your before you start to fall.

He chuckles with his usual smile.

"Tres bien, Trickster!"

You tried to catch him off guard (an impossible task), but you're the one who got shocked instead.

╰┈➤ Epel

A quick, confused noise slips out as he catches you.

You almost hit the ground but he tried his best.

Tell him it's a trust fall and you left him so lost he needs the map.

Since there aren't many kids in the place he's from, he'd never heard of a trust fall until now.

He's glad you trust him, though, and has a small smile on his face for the rest of the day.

╰┈➤ Idia

He isn't even there.

You fall with nothing but thin air behind you.

sorry

╰┈➤ Ortho

He catches you right away and it's startling how strong he is.

You knew he'd be pretty strong, but you're still surprised a little.

He also thought you fell by accident but he's happy when you tell him it wad a trust fall.

Watch out though, since there's a close to 40% chance you'll fall on the floor if you tried it on somsone else.

He's just hoping you don't get hurt.

He's such a sweet little gummy worm <3

╰┈➤ Malleus

He instantly catches you with magic.

Genuinely thought you lost your balance.

Well done, now he's walking behind you for the next week to make sure you don't fall and hurt yourself.

You tell him it's a trust fall and he's so lost he needs the map 2.0

But he's intrigued

You're quite strange, Child of Man.

You explain its only done with people you trust (usually) and he's smiling for the rest of the day.

There's no storm clouds for the next week.

You've singlehandedly made his day.

╰┈➤ Lilia

Watches you with a knowing smile.

He knows what you're doing.

Still catches you anyway while chuckling.

Says something about how funny kids are these days and leaves to go do Lilia stuff. (idk I haven't read book 7 yet lmao)

╰┈➤ Silver

You're the one catching him.

He fell asleep mid conversation and now you're left to drag him over to a nearby bench so he can rest comfortably.

bro is majestic

Watching him sleep so peacefully makes you sleepy too and you end up falling asleep as well.

Your trust fall plan ended in a joint napping session.

Idk about you but that sounds like a win to me.

╰┈➤ Sebek

He catches you.

Thinks it would be a disgrace to his training if he didn't.

You tell him it's a trust fall and he gets all smug.

"Ha! You think I can be caught of guard by the ambush of a mere human??" He says but on the inside he's happy you trust him.

Won't say it out loud though so you're left with him talking your ear off about how humans are too reckless.

That's his way of telling you to be more careful next time.

He just didn't want you to get hurt either.

After all, he does care (I hope)

◁--《

677 notes · View notes

bubuslutty · 3 months

Text

40-something Moon Man ROCKS the Dancefloor! (REAL NOT CLICKBAIT!)

pairing: Marc Spector & Female Reader

word count: 4026

warnings: none

summary:

Marc Spector accidentally goes viral on TikTok after his uni student neighbour/friend drags him to the club with her.

a/n: i wrote this in a silly goofy mood and i love marc sooo much <3 Also I used Darling instead of Y/n cuz im funky like that.

“Please, Marc.” Darling begged the 40-something man while he tried to clean his flat.

“No.” Marc answered flatly, wearing a very washed-out and loose t-shirt and a pair of dark blue shorts. His hair, now longer was tied at the back of his head in a tiny man bun.

“Why??? We’ll have so much fun and you need a night out to dislodge the stick up your ass.” Darling groaned and fell on her knees in the kitchen, ready to hold onto his legs and beg if need be. Marc sighed and ignored the 19-year-old teenager on his kitchen floor as he cracked another window open and increased the volume of the radio on the window ledge, BBC Radio 1 playing a Central Cee song in the flat as he picked up stray books, papers, food wrappers, socks and random junk, a bin bag clutched in one hand and a laundry basket clutched in his other arm.

Marc finally got himself to start cleaning his flat, he read that it would help his mental health to live in a cleaner space. That’s why she was over, she was meant to help him clean so it wouldn’t be too overwhelming on his own, and motivate him to get on with cleaning so he finished faster and could escape her non-ending yapping sessions. But now, it seemed like she was more interested in annoying him, which is literally second nature now, a natural reaction she had to him, annoying the shit out of Marc.

I mean, he could literally kick her out, and scare her enough that she’ll leave him alone for good, he’s done it before, to other people. He’s tried, but she’s Steven’s friend and he can’t do that to him. And he knows deep down he actually enjoys her presence and would kill anyone that hurts her then himself. He cannot lie, the kid had a big heart and was incredibly kind and patient. He was a little jealous that her parents were able to make a girl like that because Marc knew he could never produce that level of goodness into the world. He can never come close. She was too good.

Marc dropped the basket on a chair and the trash bag on top of it, letting out a long sigh and putting his hands on his hips. “Why do you want me to go with you?”

Darling’s miserable puppy eyes immediately vanished and she got up from the floor, walking up to him with a huge grin on her face. “Well, first of all, you’re my friend, and I like hanging out with you.” Marc raised one brow and didn’t say anything.

“I found this club with great music and I really want to try it out,” Darling said shrugging.

“Why don’t you go with your friends? People your own age.” Marc asked, his arms now crossed over his chest. “People from my uni are… I never really enjoyed going out with them, sure, nothing terrible happened cuz we always stuck together but uh-” Darling tried to explain and Marc failed to understand why the hell she wanted him to go with her out of all people.

“I’ll just be in the way if I go with you. And I can always pick you up at the end of the night, you know?” Marc said and Darling frowned in confusion, “In the way of what?”

Marc almost laughed in disbelief but held it together, “Don’t you want a boyfriend? No one will get close to you if I’m with you.”

Darling looked unimpressed, “What boyfriend? You mean drunk finance bros with an Andrew Tate mentality? Plus, I don’t do hookups, I have anxiety, mate.” Marc was confused and Darling remembered he wasn’t as chronically online as she was, so he probably had no idea who the abomination of a man was.

“I just want the experience. I just want to dress up and dance all night without men I don’t know breathing down my neck.” Darling explained, picking lint up from her way too big t-shirt with a Pikachu plastered on the front, so she wouldn’t have to look at him in the eyes.

Marc understood and thought about it for a second before picking up the trash bag and walking to the area that was his kitchen and putting it on the floor, next to the bin. “You want me to be your bodyguard?”

Darling’s head snapped up, eyes wide, “No! I mean- Yeah, sure..”

Marc pondered over the thought and asked, “When?”

“This Friday.” Darling quickly answered, smiling big and all, excitement radiating off her in waves.

“Alright, but so you know, I don’t dance.” That’s also what Chad from High School Musical said but go off. Darling knew to keep her mouth shut instead of calling him out.

“Thank you. Thank you so much!” She squealed, jumping up and wrapping her arms around his waist.

“Alright, enough.” He grumbled even though he was smiling, and ripped her away with his hands on her shoulders. “You won’t regret this,” Darling promised and Marc just nodded, he’ll see about that.

“Now, do me a favour,” Marc said, turning around and picking up two trash bags in his hands. “Take out the trash.”

Darling groaned and Marc fixed her with a look and her shoulders slumped, taking the bags out of the door to put them downstairs.

🌙

“How do I look? Be honest.” Darling asked, standing in the corridors as Marc locked his door and shoved the keys in his pockets, his black leather jacket held in his other hand.

Marc straightened his back and analysed her outfit from head to toe. She was wearing a sleeveless, backless sparkly blue top paired with jean shorts and white trainers. Simply put, she looked pretty and it surprised Marc a little, he didn’t know she was capable of wearing anything but washed-out old t-shirts with unhinged slogans on them. It was an addiction at this point, she loved buying the weirdest t-shirts she could find on the internet. She even bought him a t-shirt once that said “I lactate”. And swear to God, Marc almost killed her right then and there. It’s still ranked as one of her “biggest Ws” whatever the fuck that meant.

“Not ugly,” Marc answered flatly and Darling grinned, that was Marc’s way of saying she looked nice.

“And you look great, did Jake pick the clothes?” She asked, looking him over.

“No.” Marc lied and she giggled, because the one who dressed cunty every single time without fail, was Jake, and unfortunately, Marc didn’t possess the level of serve Jake did.

Marc was wearing a black short-sleeved button-up, unbuttoned at the top, where his David’s star necklace glinted against his tan chest, paired with black trousers and black shoes. Simple, clean. His hair was brushed back this time, but still, some curls fell over his forehead no matter how many times he ran his fingers through it.

“Let’s go,” Darling said after checking she had everything she needed in her small handbag.

The two decided to take the underground rather than Jake’s cab because it was faster than being stuck in traffic in central London. It was a bit busy and lots of people looked like they were heading to clubs and pubs for the night, dressed in all sorts of manner. Marc was honestly just looking around and taking everything in, he had never witnessed London’s nightlife like this, maybe saw some things from rooftops while tracking someone, but that didn’t count.

He saw an alarming amount of young men dressed in techs, standing in hoards. And girls wearing matching bodycon dresses. The underground station was hot, extremely loud and stinky. Darling was standing next to him, complaining about the prices that TFL charged. How ridiculously expensive the tube and trains were, even with a student oyster. He just hoped he wouldn’t get a nasty headache by the end of the night.

They hopped on the tube when it came, screeching to a stop, people spilling out of it in crowds. When they got in, they sat across each other as more people sat around them. And if it couldn’t get any louder, a man walked in with a big speaker resting on his shoulder and a cracked iPhone gripped in his other hand. “Bassline Junkie” blasted loudly as he sang along, and soon enough, a group of rowdy teenagers, around Darling’s age, started singing along too. Darling started laughing and Marc watched as the man started approaching them, goading the sitting people to get up and start singing with him. Darling got up and shouted the lyrics at some girls as they sang together. They somehow managed to drag Darling away from her seat, holding each other and singing loudly, multiple phones recording the scene. When they reached their stop, Marc got up and pulled Darling by the hand out of the tube before they missed it.

“BYE!” She shouted over her shoulder, laughing and breathing hard.

Marc let go of her hand and watched her put her hands on her knees, panting and straightening, fixing her hair and looking at Marc with bright eyes, “I’ve never done that before.”

He smiled a little, “Good job.”

“To the club!” Darling pointed in the direction of the gates, pulling Marc by his arm.

When they left the station, Darling let out a shuddering breathing, suddenly feeling very cold in the polluted crisp air of London. Marc noticed and frowned, “Don’t get sick.”

“Wow, thank you, Marc.” Darling rolled her eyes and started walking down the street, Marc following her behind. She turned around, walking backwards, “By the way, I have your jacket so I won’t get sick.”

“I’m not giving you my jacket, dipshit.” Marc said and Darling rolled her eyes, “Yeah, whatever you say.”

They spent 30 minutes trying to figure out where the hell that club was, bickering while following the map on Darling’s phone. At some point, she ended up locking arms with Marc after a rando whistled after her when she walked by and had to physically stop Marc from turning around and bashing the man’s face in.

When they finally reached the club, Darling was so excited and Marc had a hand wrapped around the back of her neck, guiding her through the crowds of people to the bar so they could get a drink in their system first and take in the place. “You’re paying, by the way,” Darling said over the loud music, taking a sip of her cocktail, this drink will probably be her first and last. She didn’t plan on throwing up on the pavement, and she wants to be able to remember tonight.

“You’re the one taking me out, aren’t you supposed to be paying?” Marc asked, leaning in so she could hear him over the music. “I’m paying for kebabs later. 50/50, yeah?” She said and he hummed.

He looked around and noticed how a lot of people were dressed, it faintly reminded him of the early 2000s with twists to fit today’s fashion trends. He could tell that this was the look Darling was going for, then he finally allowed himself to actually hear the music and was surprised when Flo Rida was blasting from the speakers, the floor vibrating under the weight of the bass.

“Come on, let’s dance,” Darling said after she finished her drink and dragged him on the dance floor, drink still in hand. Rihanna was now playing and Marc was a little mortified because he doesn’t remember the last time he danced in a club. Darling gave him encouraging nods while she practised a Just Dance routine without missing a beat as Marc nodded to the music, finishing his drink and trying not to laugh at her and failing miserably.

At some point Darling got rid of his empty glass for him and ran back, almost crashing face-first on his chest if he didn’t catch her. “THAT’S MY SONG!” She shouted over the music and Marc immediately recognised the beat. It was that Usher song that even the aliens from outer space could recognise, the one and only: “Yeah!”. Marc was a little confused because he was sure as hell she wasn’t even born when it came out.

“I WAS BORN TO SERVE CUNT AND SLAY THE CLUB!” She shrieked and Marc knew she must be out of her mind because there’s no way one drink made her say shit like that. He was dragged to the centre of the dance floor and Darling started busting moves he never saw her do, and Marc had to admit, she was a good dancer. But he was a great dancer.

He ran a hand through his curly hair and watched her dance with fire in her eyes. Marc smirked. Alright , if this is how this is going to go, then so be it. He popped another button open from the top of the shirt and rolled his neck, getting his muscles loose, nodding to the beat. Darling watched him as she bounced with the beat and honest to God, Marc started krumping. Krumping in the club.

Darling’s eyes almost popped out of their sockets and she screamed in delight, hyping him up with her whole body, “I knew you could do it!”

He was good. Really good.

So good in fact that the people around them started to notice and the space between them got bigger, creating a clear space where they could see Marc and Darling better. Darling didn’t even notice, her eyes glued to Marc who was absolutely destroying the dance floor. She didn’t even notice the phones pulled out to record the scene. And when it looked like Darling was starting to lose against Marc, a random girl squeezed herself through the crowd, handing Darling her drink and started dancing battling Marc. Darling was losing her mind, laughing and having the time of her life. The crowd hyped both the girl and Marc.

Marc was smiling the whole time, his curls moving this and that way, now falling over his eyes, sticking to his forehead. His face was warm and his necklace kept constantly swinging as he ate up every single person who decided to battle him. In between songs, he kept being offered drinks while Darling kept complimenting his skills. She was proud to get him out of his shell and was genuinely so grateful that everything went as planned. But most importantly, she was proud of him.

Hours later, by the time they left the club, the two were walking down the streets, singing together to a Britney Spears song, arms linked and still warm and sweaty. Darling had Marc’s (Well, it was actually Jake’s) leather jacket draped over her shoulders, keeping her shielded from the cold wind. Meanwhile, Marc may as well unbutton his shirt all the way down and take it off because it was sticking to him and a huge, very generous chunk of his chest could be seen, still shining with drying sweat. His hair was a little crazy because no matter what he tried to do, it refused to stay still and he didn’t have anything to hold it with. But that’s alright, he looked very pretty and he had a great time to care about his hair at the moment.

The two made their way to the first kebab place they saw. “What do you want?” She asked, looking at the old and worn menu above the counter, on the wall. “A number 2.”

“Bossman, let me get two number 2s and two Coke Zero’s.” Darling said and the man nodded, “£22.98, please.” Darling reached for her purse. “I got it,” Marc said, digging in his pocket for notes before she had the chance to protest.

“I was going to pay.” She mumbled, rubbing her eyes, feeling tired.

“You can pay next time.” He said, patting her head.

“You always say that and you never let me.” She complained, leaning her weight against him, cheek squished against his warm arm. “Yeah, yeah.” Marc checked his phone for any notifications and scrolled a bit while waiting for their food to be done. When they got their food, they left the joint because there were literally no seats in there, you just collect your food and leave. Marc held the plastic bag in one hand and wrapped the other around Darling’s shoulder just in case she tripped, she didn’t drink much but she exhausted herself to the bone, and he didn’t want to end up in the ER looking after her.

“Do you want to eat in the tube?” He asked.

“No, I’ll get sick. Aren’t there any chairs anywhere?” She asked.

Marc hummed and looked around, spotting a park? A garden? It was really small and fenced, and in the middle, there was a big statue of a man Marc couldn’t recognise. He walked closer and saw that there was an empty bench inside. Perfect.

They got settled down, Marc unwrapped their food and Darling complained about the cold bench against her thighs. “Sit on the jacket.” He said, opening his Coke and taking a sip.

“But then my back will touch the bench.” She complained and Marc rolled his eyes.

“Just eat your food.” He said and they dug in.

They didn’t speak for a long time, both looking up at the dark sky. There were no stars to be seen due to the city lights, but they could see the moon and the clouds. It was as peaceful as London could get. When they were done, they collected the trash in the plastic bag but didn’t move, still sitting on the bench, looking at the moon together. “Uhm-” Marc spoke and Darling turned to look at him. As soon as she met his eyes, he snapped his mouth shut.

Darling didn’t say anything, just looked at him with an open expression, eyes heavy-lidded due to sleepiness. Marc licked his lower lip and parted his lips to speak but nothing came out. So instead, he opted for squeezing one of her knees in his warm hand, trying to make her understand what he was trying to say with his eyes.

He wanted to say thank you. He wanted to say that he appreciated her taking him out with her. He appreciated her patience and kindness. He appreciated how she never judged him for being himself. How she was brave and strong and didn’t get scared easily.

And Darling understood.

🌙

It was around 12 in the afternoon the next day when Darling got a text message from one of her uni friends. She frowned in confusion, she usually never received any messages from them during the weekends. She put her spoon in her cereal bowl as she chewed, and paused the YouTube video she was watching on her laptop.

Darling opened the message. It was two messages actually, one of them read, “Is this you?” And the other was a link.

She suddenly felt scared as her finger hovered over the link, she was sure she had a good digital footprint. I mean, she had profiles where family and friends followed, and she also had separate accounts online where she caused havoc without revealing her identity. And she was sure there was no way anyone she knew in real life could find her accounts and link them to her. She was careful.

Darling opened the link and instead of loading in a browser tab, it opened the TikTok app. Now, what the hell is this?

At first, she didn’t know what she was looking at, but her brain caught on and she felt like screaming. It was a video of the day before, from the club. There she was dancing battling Marc in the middle of the circle. Her jaw was on the floor, she couldn’t believe her eyes. Then she looked at the likes and screamed because why did it have 2M likes?

Her finger pressed the comment section before she could think and was flooded with comments like “This is what I mean when I say I want to go to the club”, “Okay but why did he eat?”, “Where is this??”, “Get this man in a Step Up movie NOW”, “Goo Goo Ga Ga”.

Darling leapt off the bed laughing and scrambled out of her flat, phone in hand. She didn’t even bother to wear slippers and instead ran over next door, Steven’s door, knocking quickly. When the door didn’t open in a millisecond, she turned the doorknob and walked inside without bothering to shut the door properly behind her, “Marc, you have to see this!”

Marc was in bed, shirtless and wearing a pair of loose PJ bottoms, wearing his reading glasses as he read his book. Well, he wasn’t reading it now . He was looking at Darling with an annoyed expression. She ignored it and ran to him, but not without throwing a quick “Hi, Gus” to the tank. She dived knees first on his bed and he sighed, slamming his book shut and placing it on the bedside table.

“What do you want?”

“Look!” She held her phone in front of his face and he tried to comprehend what he was looking at. Darling saw the moment he realised what it was, he grabbed the phone with both hands, a look of horror plastered on his face. “All of London saw the video. You’re viral, Marc.”

“Delete it.” He said without ripping his eyes from the screen.

“What?” Darling frowned.

“Delete it. Right now.” He repeated.

“It’s not my video. I can’t delete it.” Darling said and Marc dropped the phone in his lap, gathering his head in his hands, groaning. He truly had fun, but he didn’t know how he felt about all of London seeing this video.

Darling picked up her phone again, “I’m going to send it to DuChamp, he’s going to love it.”

Marc screamed and ripped the phone away from her hands, scaring her. She got scared not because he had taken her phone but because she never heard the man scream before. “Give it back!” She said, trying to grab her phone but Marc didn’t let her. It was a struggle because not only Marc was stronger, way stronger, but he wasn’t wearing a t-shirt so she didn’t have any grip on him, except his shoulders and hair. But she knew if she even thought about pulling his hair he’d throw her out of the window. “I’m going to report the video so it can be taken down.” He said and Darling gasped, “You don’t even know how to do that! You never used TikTok in your life, boomer!”

“Watch me,” Marc said through gritted teeth as Darling struggled against him, then she somehow managed to wrap her arms around his free arm and threw herself down on the bed, back first and swung her legs up to wrap them around his head, choking him. Marc let out a surprised shout, his eyes sent 500 million invisible daggers to Darling. He threw the phone down on the floor, out of her reach and lifted her off the bed, her legs still wrapped around his neck and she screamed when he flipped them around and slammed her down on the bed, head first, WWE style.

The two kept wrestling and clawing at each other until Darling ended up in a headlock, Marc squishing her body on the bed with his whole weight, “Help!” She wheezed, clawing at him, trying to get away from him. “Quit it.” He hissed as she tried to kick him with the heel of her foot on his ass.

A cough startled the two out of their fight, both of them looked up and Marc froze.

“What are you…doing?” Layla asked, looking at Marc, then back down at Darling. She had her phone in her hand, and a big Tesco shopping bag in the other. God bless her heart, she brought her disaster of not-technically-divorced husband groceries.

“Oooh, is that the bad bitch you fumbled-”

🌙

Tag list (pls ask to be added or removed): @bobastayhigh @weblesstherains @h-leigh @unspokenmoon @ahookedheroespureheart @thursdaywritings @gebstargeb @softieekayy @fem-moony @peachjellypackets @pakhiya @darlinglittledevil @anixluxtt @mrs-cupidd @gebgeb @poeticabomination

this work is part of the "I'm friends with the moon" series. You can read it as a stand-alone or delve deeper into this AU.

70 notes · View notes

rokomoi · 3 months

Text

•*everyone adores you,atleast I do.*•

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ⋆ ☾

pairing: maki x reader.

synopsis: he’s just a little too shy to confess because everyone adores you,atleast he does.

now playing: everyone adores you(atleast i do)-matt maltese.

notes: kept my word and promise that i’ll upload another story for you lovelies!. hopefully you’ll enjoy it as i wrote this instead of studying.

disclaimer: english isn’t my first language,apologies in advance for any grammatical mistakes. no pronouns nor skin colour will be mentioned.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ⋆ ☾

Footsteps clattered throughout the classroom as students rushed in and out of it, trying to get to the cafeteria before it got too crowded from the number of students there. My chest heaved up and down slowly as I let out a breathy sigh, letting my eyes wander around the now-half-empty classroom before deciding to just stare out the open windows, watching how the sheer white blinds waved around with the breeze as the blackbirds outside were chipping on the cherry blossoms near the windows. I squinted my eyes as the sunshine beamed inside and hit my eyes, making me groan quietly and turn my head to face the other side, bringing my hands up to rub at my eyes gently as I leaned back against my uncomfortable and small chair, stretching out my arms and back as drowsiness took over me. A few strands of my blonde hair fell on my face and covered bits of my vision, scooting my chair closer to my desk, grabbing my bag from beside the desk on the floor slammed it on the desk and letting my head hang low and lay my face flat against the uncomfortable material of the bag. I let my eyes flutter shut as I felt my body getting more relaxed, focusing on my breathing as I felt myself going in and out of sleep.

“Y’know you're not supposed to sleep, Riki-kun..” A soft-spoken voice jolted me awake from my slumber, making my eyes flutter open and squint back closed as the sunlight hit me directly in the eyes. I kept my head down and played flat, going back and forth reopening my eyes and closing them every once in a while until I felt the drowsiness wither away from my body. Then it hit me, that voice…I recognized it. Making me shoot my head up frantically, feeling my cheeks casting a pink hue on them as they got warmer. My breath hitched in my throat as I made eye contact with our class president, who was already looking at me with a cheeky smile on their pretty face whilst they snacked on some chocolate. How could a person look this cute eating chocolate while sitting down in a shitty school like this is very questionable.

“Yeah..sorry about that.” I uttered in a small tone, clearing my throat as I brought my hand up to anxiously adjust to my uniform tie. My ears perked up once hearing a faint giggle echoing out through the classroom, turning my head towards their way as I offered them a small smile.

“Mhm..you’re off the hook, this time..” they said in a mischievous tone, making me chuckle to myself at their actions and silliness. “Yeah yeah..we’ll see about that with you and your kind heart.” I teased back at them, raising my eyebrows at them, smiling to myself like an idiot as I watched and observed their facial expressions change.

“Why?..I’ll be mean to you this time, Riki-kun!” They threatened me but all I could see was a kitten trying to seem angry and assert dominance. I shook my head at them in disbelief, pinching the bridge of my nose as I slowly raised myself from my desk, tucking my hands inside my trousers as I made my way towards them. Standing tall over their sat-down self, making a giggle leave my lips just from staring at the supposed angry expression on their face. I lowered myself down to be eye-to-eye with them, placing my arms behind them as I gripped onto the edges of their desk behind them, trapping them in place.

“We both know that you can't, Schatz.” I mumbled in my deep voice, arching an eyebrow at them as I gazed down at their cheeks, watching how they got pink and how the colour intensified, I snickered to myself. Biting down on my lower lip as I tried to not go crazy I got overwhelmed by the smell of their sweet shampoo the way their perfume smelled or how cute they looked with that pout on their pink and kissable lips. I shook my head, trying to shake off those thoughts away as I tapped my foot against the wooded flooring, my eyes travelling from their beautiful eyes to their lips back and forth.

“Oh shut your mouth, you German fucker..” They spat out grumpily. Making my eyes go wide a bit as I felt amused at their words, my eyebrows knitted together as I watched them scoot themselves away from me by using their feet against the floor, making a disappointed feeling grow inside of me as my lips pursued out into a pout. A small sigh escaped my mouth, I failed at another attempt at flirting with them.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ⋆ ☾

Nighttime

The door clicked open as I twisted the knob and let myself out of the foggy bathroom, fully clothed in summer pyjamas although it was cold this particular night, with a medium-sized towel in my hand patting and drying at my now wet blonde locks. A shiver ran down my spine as I suddenly felt a cold breeze hit me, I guess my body still hadn't adjusted to the temperature of my room yet. I sighed deeply as I finished drying my hair, throwing the towel onto the heater as I dragged my feet across the cold floors toward my bed. Crashing my body onto it with a grunt, laying my back flat against the soft bedding as I stared dazedly at the ceiling. The moonlight casted a low glow in my dark room, making the atmosphere inside seem more depressing than it already was. I groaned to myself as I ran both of my hands through my wet locks, taking some random pillow that was beside me burying my face and letting out a muffled scream out of frustration as the events from today played over and over again in my head, making me feel embarrassed, regret and disappointment all at once. After feeling like I let everything out inside of me, I sighed as I threw the pillow somewhere across the room, making it crash something along with it but I just couldn't care less. I curled myself up into a ball, hugging my legs to my chest as I stared into the abyss, my eyes wandering toward a certain thing hung on my wall, as the moonlight casted directly onto the said wall and making me see everything that was there. A few Polaroids of my friends, family members, my pets and then most importantly…the only photo I have with our class president in the middle. My eyebrows once again knitted together in confusion, the more I stared at their photo the more my heart rate went up and the butterflies intensified in my guts.

“What if..they’re already in a relationship?” I whispered to myself. Making me huff out in sadness as I felt my bed dip, making me puzzled for a moment. I used my elbow to sit up a little to see what was going on, only to breathe out in relief as I just realized it was Pandy chilling by my feet. A smile curved on my lips, making my dimples pop out as I reached a hand out towards her to pet behind her ears. After having a small petting and talking to her about my day session with her, I felt my eyes getting heavier and heavier, I let the drowsiness win as I crashed myself back down on the bed, pulling the covers over me as I cuddled with Andy to sleep. Hopefully, I could try again with them tomorrow morning.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ⋆ ☾

next morning

A deep sigh of relief erupted out of my throat as the annoying bell rang out through the school, the day was finally over and I could rest in peace as it was the weekend finally. I rubbed at my temples as I raised my body, frantically working my hands around to shove my books and stuff into my bag just so I could get out here quickly and go home. I shoved my hands into the pockets of my cardigan as I paced out of the school entrance, letting my head hang low as music softly played in my ears from my earlier shoving earphones. I watched my shadow on the golden pavement of the sidewalk, feeling myself getting lost in thoughts until I felt an arm wrap around my arm, making me raise my head as I was ready to argue with the person who suddenly touched me without my permission or consent. I removed one of my earphones and I parted my mouth open to grumble at the person but to say the least I was very puzzled to see our class president clinging to my arm as they tried to keep with my long legs with their little ones.

“You're getting bold.” I teased at them, stifling back a chuckle as I averted my gaze away from them and watched everything that was ahead in front of me. “Well, I felt like being bold today..” they mumbled in that soft voice that I loved oh so much, it was like honey to my ears, a melody that I could listen to forever for the rest of my life. “Wouldn't your lover be jealous of how hard you're clinging onto my arm, Schatz?” I questioned them, narrowing my eyes at them as I watched their non-readable pretty face.

“No..why would you be jealous of yourself, Riki?” now that..I wasn't expecting even a million years into the future. A gasp left me, I stared at them dumbfounded as I stood still in my tracks, even removing my arm from their hold as I stared down at them. I parted my mouth to speak but they did instead. “And yes we're dating now, I like you and I knew that you liked me for a long time but I was skeptical, okay?” they reasoned out but honestly, everything they were saying was coming out of both ears as I couldn’t even process their words probably. I felt my heart swell up in joy, making me mumble out gibberish sentences before i reached my hands out to hold their soft cheeks, caressing them gently before crashing my lips onto their soft ones. now this what a heavenly feeling felt like, I felt myself shudder and melt into the kisses as we moved our lips in a rhythm. I parted myself away from them, a small string of saliva connecting both of our lips together as I took in shaky deep breaths. a chuckle erupted out of me as I admired their skin glow under the amber hues of the sunset, making smile in a dumfounded way as I felt myself in a trance and let my body do what it wanted to do. which in this case, was picking and scooping their small body into my arms as I took off running under the cherry blossom trees all lined up alongside the pavement whilst their protests to let them go fell on deaf ears.

I could finally adore them without everyone else adoring them,they were now all mine.

only for me to adore and love till entirety.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ⋆ ☾

notes:woop woop. managed to be productive, plus don’t come for me for the kissing part. my man deserves some kisses. a knee ways, kisses and hugs from me to you my lovelies!. i’ll see you on friday,xoxo.

#&team imagines #&team x reader #andteam imagines #andteam #andteam scenarios #andteam x reader #andteam maki #&team drabbles #&team #&team fluff #&team maki #&team scenarios #hirota riki #hirota riki fluff

59 notes · View notes

thevulturesquadron · 24 days

Note

"I imagine that ‘some things are deeper than skin’ is the line they wanted to get out of it. (For me that fell flat and overall I think once again Rogue drew the short straw just to accommodate her relationship with Remy but that’s a different conversation all together)."

Okay, here i was reading this ask in the tag and saw this. Now you've piqued my interest. When you've got the time i'd love to know your thoughts on this. 😯

hey there traveler! 🌠 I said that? Oops, might have thought that one out-loud. Silly me. 😶 Well, we’re here now so we might as well drive this one home. 'Some things are deeper than skin' was a shallow take on the situation for the trio, imo. It felt like a sticker placed on top of a damaged car. Some things are definitely deeper than skin. So are Rogue's feelings for Erik. So is what her time with him inspired in her. For someone who was a terrorist, who presented drastic solutions to the world, not once did he try to push that onto Rogue. On the contrary, it was made clear that, in the time they spent together in TAS, he taught her to see her powers not as a curse but as an essential part of who she is. He spoke to her about what it really means to embrace her identity, about building a future that makes her feel proud of who she is, about her powers creating a sense of belonging instead of discomfort, shame, and alienation. His presence in her life taught her not to fear who she is, not to put limits on what she can do, it taught her to be a part of the world she wants to see herself living in. THAT is why she fell in love with him. That is the Erik that Rogue loves. The whole 'touch' only came in later. We already see her falling in love with him before they even considered the possibility of touching. I love Gambit with all my heart, but in that scene he didn't consider a single thing of what Rogue had to say about why she wanted to be part of Genosha's future. He literally went ahead and did the opposite of what Erik had done - he made Rogue revert into herself and feel the pain of her inability to touch for the sole purpose of romantic and sexual gain. That line was ultimately used to show that Remy was in the right, to frame him as the one that's been hurt, with close to no consideration for Rogue and what she wanted from life. He says 'some things are deeper than skin' and it feels off coming from him, someone who has the privilege of sharing a connection based on touch with others. It makes Remy come across as not listening to what's being said. And I know his words in that interaction can be read as romantic in the sense of 'we can overcome anything'. It's a valid interpretation, but it doesn't work for me. I'd rather two partners try and understand each other and listen to each other than dismiss it with a 'we'll find a way'. Especially when one of them is deeply affected by it. It just isn't my jam. So having Rogue echo the 'some things are deeper than skin' fell flat because it only addressed part of the reason why her and Erik shared something. I think there is love in Rogue for both men and, unlike Magneto, Gambit is just not willing to accept it. It has to be him and only him. All this when he's had a lifetime prior to Rogue of experiencing intimacy, touch and relationships and understanding what he wants and what he values. In this instance it just feels like he's indirectly manipulating Rogue's emotions, making her sink into guilt and self-doubt (very important to note here that he's not doing it on purpose, but as an instinctive reaction to his own emotions - because this speaks both of his qualities and his flaws). So when Rogue says ‘Remy was right, some things are deeper than skin’ I think that is her guilt and insecurity talking.

I grew up with ROMY as my OTP but then, in time, that flame died and my view of the ship shifted. Part of the reason is because I started seeing a pattern in their relationship where often times Rogue would end up being the one pulled down, having to accommodate, accept and even apologize for things. And I was just not vibing with it anymore.

#rogue #x men #x men '97 #x men 97 #magneto #rogneto #gambit #remy lebeau #marvel #rogueneto #roguneto #anna marie #anna marie adler #erik lehnsherr #max eisenhardt #textpost

46 notes · View notes

h4venpha · 1 year

Text

↳ 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋 — vash the stampede

fluff hc

TRIMAX SPOILERS(?) minus the whole tragic symbolism of his angel form! hes just a silly guy with wings here ^^

- living with angel bf vash and finding feathers EVERYWHERE around the place

- like yes they’re in the bed, yes they’re in between the couch crevices, yes they’re clogging the fuck out of the shower drain. its not incredibly bad..? but they’re not the same as normal hairs, some are big and stiff and others are small and fluffy, its hard to clean up yk?

- which is why there are now set days where you get vash to settle down so you can groom his wings. lightly running your fingers through each layer of feathers causing the loose ones falling out so you can toss them out. this process is much better instead of them being tucked into every crevice of the place.

- one thing though, vash is sensitive. the first time you tried to groom his feathers, he was sitting on a stool in the bathroom, and the first drag of your fingers through the tips had him shivering hard enough that he fell off the stool.

- from then on, he had to be laying flat on his stomach on the bed with his wings outstretched to the sides. it would take hours and hours to finish grooming him cause he couldn’t stay still. vash would squirm or try to roll over or get bored. it was quite annoying, but not as annoying as finding feathers in the folds of your laundry or under your pillow.

- cuddles were the best. hands down.

- fluffy white wings wrapped around your body, keeping you twice as warm even as vash held you in his arms. its like a set of pillows pressed against all sides of your body, completely wrapping you up every night.

- vash keeps you oh so close to him all the time. especially when hes busy yes! using the tips of his wings by pulling you into him, feathers brushing against your back. or he likes to press you into him using his wing.

- very vivid thoughts of waking up with vash in the morning and hes busy blowing the steam off his coffee cup and youre still half asleep attached to his side. hes propping you up with his wing, holding you against him as the scent of coffee fills your nostrils.

253 notes · View notes

wroetominter · 6 months

Text

Insecurity - Harry Lewis

It sure has been awhile, I don’t even know how to preface an imagine anymore. I hope you enjoy!

Pairing: Y/N X Harry

Warnings: slight angst

Smut: none

——————

It was no secret Harry had jumpstarted my career. We started YouTube around the same time, both doing our own things and genuinely having a good time. His channel had started to kick off very quickly, with him beginning to gain subscribers almost immediately. My channel? Not so much. I had a steady ten thousand subscribers well over two years into it. Where as Harry, had over three million - and had joined a YouTube group - "The Sidemen".

I had since that time decided to stream instead. It was my element. I loved it. Still love it. Harry had popped into one of my streams quickly to say hello, and ask for my Nando's order. This grasped the attention of thousands upon thousands of viewers - who were now turning up stream after stream. I thanked him endlessly, finally being able to support myself with my content career, and leaving the stuffy job I had worked to make my money.

Now, I lived in a beautiful two bedroom flat in central London. With floor to ceiling windows, I found myself often just staring out of them and wondering, "is this real life?"

Flash forward to the current moment, I opened my window and the crisp, cool air flooded into the flat. My curtains gently blew next to me as I closed my eyes and took in the smell of autumn air. I stretched and took in my surroundings. The city skyline was backlit by a gorgeous pink and orange sunrise, making it nearly impossible to stop staring.

I was pulled from my daydream by the soft buzzing of my phone on my duvet. I grabbed it to find messages from a few friends, and some twitter notifications. I opened the small blue app to see I had been tagged in tons of videos.

I opened a few, seeing that they were all the same clip from what looked to be a stream. Harry's stream. He was playing some geoguessr, and seemed to be at a lull in the game - answering questions.

"Why don't you stream with Y/n anymore?" He read as the donation popped on the screen. You could almost see the instant regret in his eyes as he read it.

"Oh erm, I guess we just sort of fell out of touch. No hard feelings or anything she's lovely, I'd love to catch up with her" I didn't even know what to think. Fell out of touch? I don't quite remember it that way.

— 10 months prior—

Harry and I had been hanging out nearly every day. We were basically joined at the hip. We were doing everything together.

Streaming, eating, going for walks. We basically merged our lives together.

"What's got you all crabby" Harry asked.

"Nothing nothing, just my silly imagination" I was truthfully imagining what would happen if I grabbed his hand as we walked through the heart of our neighborhood.

Harry and I had, what I considered to be a blossoming relationship. We were keeping it to ourselves, only to make sure this was what we wanted before effectively announcing it to the whole world.

In private, we were all over each other. Cuddling on the couch, sneaking kisses in bed as I forced Harry to watch my favorite shows. Public was an entirely different story. Even in front of his flat mates, we were just mates, even if it hurt in those moments.

It all came down to about four months into our relationship. I felt we had it figured out with us. We were at a point in our relationship where we were probably only days or weeks from the ‘I love you' talk. We had certainly sealed the deal in more ways than one, by this time.

We had many conversations about bringing our relationship to the public, not our viewers, but our close friends and family.

Harry seemed to be skeptical, questioning every word I said.

"What if it gets leaked out. Then what?" He asked. He seemed very stressed about the situation.

"Then we handle it the same way everyone else does? Just set our boundaries with what we want to say to the viewers and keep the rest private." I explained calmly.

"I don't think I can handle that." He stated.

My head turned slightly to the side at that comment. Confused by what he meant, I asked.

"I just mean, what if we break up? How will that look to the fans? Like I'm just a womanizer dropping women left and right?" He was referencing the few girls who in previous points of his career he had been seen snogging in clubs and never bringing them up again.

I felt my breath hitch in my throat, oh. So this was all about him. "That may be the most selfish thing I have ever heard." I said softly. I was heart broken that all he seemed to be thinking about was us breaking up. "I thought we were in a really good spot, Harry." His pacing stopped and he looked over at me, seeing the tears brimming my eyes.

"Y/n, no... no... I don't mean it like that." He tried to back pedal.

I was too upset to hear it at that moment, gathering my bag and standing up, wiping my tears on the hoodie of his I was wearing. "Ill make this easy for both of us. No need to go public with something that doesn't exist anymore." I said, leaving the flat.

I can't even remember if he tried to come after me at this point. All I remember is the hurt that it caused, wondering if I would ever get over it.

—present moment—

I shuddered, partially at the chill enveloping the room and partially at the memory of leaving Harry standing there. I trailed over to my closet, reaching in the back for the all too familiar fabric of Harry's hoodie I left with that day. I hadn't washed it, so it still very faintly smelled of his flat.

I decided to get myself ready for the day, dressing casually and cleaning up so I could stream. I was planning to play some dead by daylight with Talia, and then probably some solo game if I felt up to it.

Mid way through the day, as I was still streaming, a notification appeared on my phone.

Harry: can we talk?

Not wanting to lose my poker face on stream, I sat my phone down, ignoring the message for now.

Harry: I'm watching your stream, I know you're ignoring me. I don't blame you, I just want to talk.

I gave in, typing back a quick '0kay, you know where I am' and went back to my game.

Barely an hour had passed since my stream ended. I had taken a shower and just started to cook myself a meal.

A small knock at my door broke me from my trance that I was in cooking up some dinner. I shuffled to the door, opening it to find Harry standing there in a pair of Sidemen joggers and a Nike crewneck. He seemed older, or perhaps that was a trick of the eye caused by the facial hair he was now sporting.

"Come in," I stepped aside and let him in. He came silently and sat at my island, watching me finish up my food and dishing us both up a plate. It was my worst habit, eating when I was nervous. I had no idea what he was planning to say.

"I'm sorry" he said. Nothing further, just he was sorry.

"I was hurt." I blurted. I couldn't think of anything else to say.

"I know, and I would take it back in a second if I could. I wouldn't have said anything I did, it pained me to see your face when I said that" I tried to speak but nothing came out. "I still care for you. A lot. I have feelings for you, deep feelings that I can't shake. Not that I want to. You didn't deserve what I said to you. You deserve better than me but I selfishly still want you. I'm praying that I'm not making a fool out of myself here." A flush had overcome his face.

"You're not." His eyes lit up, head snapping up to meet my gaze. "I don't blame you for what you said. I know you were only worried what would happen to us. But you can't let that dictate your life. Yes, we could have broken up. But that's something that's always a possibility in a relationship. That doesn't mean you give up on it."

"I know," he started. "I feel like you were too good to be real. I know that sounds cliche, but truthfully you are too good for me, and always have been." I sighed,

"Harry, you know me better than this. I want you. Is that not enough?" I asked.

"Want? As in present tense?" I blushed, turning my head to the side.

"Yeah, I guess I'm not over you, like I tried to convince myself I was." I said.

He pushed his plate up, moving to my side of the table and wrapping his arms around me. I felt like we were transported to almost a year ago, when him and I were inseparable. I wrapped my arms around him and held him tight. Taking in his warmth and comfort.

"I missed my best friend" he whispered in my ear. "And if that's all you want, that's fine. I just need you in my life" my heart fluttered as he said this, holding my face in his large hands.

"Don't be silly Harry," I said, leaning toward him to seal the space between our lips. The kiss was short and sweet. "I missed you too".

#wroetoshaw #sidemen #wroetominterimagines #imagine #sidemen imagine #harry lewis

68 notes · View notes

nexility-sims · 6 months

Text

𝐍𝐎. 𝟑 ❛ 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐛𝐲𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐦𝐚 ❜ | NAKAWE PALACE GROUNDS, DEC. 1990

❧ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 / 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭.

❛ Though she had earlier found comfort in the warm embrace of loved ones, Leonor disappeared to the far reaches of Nakawe Palace’s grounds when their eyes looked away. She didn’t leave with a destination in mind, but she ended up in a familiar spot. A stream cut through the high, orange rockland. At its edge, Leonor sank down on the damp ground and pulled her knees to her chin. The water moved slowly, almost too gentle to hear, and she listened instead for the patter of rain. It fell lightly and trickled down her cheeks. Time had already stopped, but now it ceased to exist. Though still, she floated and swayed in a place far from where she sat. Her mind, once a cacophonous and groaning cavern, quieted. Peace proved elusive, but she had needed this—time to simply be.

𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐞𝐝 & 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭 ↓

❧ big huge thank you to @300yearschallenge & @sirianasims for reading a draft of this and giving me feedback ! it's much better now :^) i'm taking no feedback, however, on the piss-poor dirt photoshopping sdfsf

Minutes or days later, a voice calling her name interrupted the moment. Leonor should have been relieved or touched, but she could only muster an, “Over here,” in a tone so flat and forlorn that it pushed Arturo forward in a worried hurry.

Before anyone knew him as her boyfriend, he had been the unremarkable middle son of Uspana’s fourth most prominent conservative politician. His father led the coalition today, and some wondered if he may someday be wedded to the Crown. Yet, Leonor thought of Arturo in fonder, more intimate terms. They met before they could walk. He was the second person to kiss her and the first she asked to do so again. She had confessed she lacked time for silly things like dating, so he began accompanying his father to Nakawe Palace where they could chat in the hallways and share lunch in the gardens. Sat by the same fountain, they would devise jokes at the expense of passing aides and debate policy matters, when they weren’t gossipping about shared friends and listening to cassettes. The gardens at Nakawe Palace were also where they made love for the first time. That was how she thought of it then—in romantic terms, all enamored whispers and adoring sighs of pleasure, just like her mother had told her it could be.

Leonor infrequently dreamed of being married. When she did, on rare and happy occasions, it was to him.

He asked how she was, and his voice caught midway as he realized his mistake. They did a dance she had yet to do with anyone; those who had seen her so far were either too grief-stricken, mired in the same morass of abrupt loss, or knew it was not their place to ask.

Without a thought to the wet soil and its clinging pigments, he sat down beside her.

Leonor closed her eyes. Shoulder to shoulder as they were, she felt herself torn between irreconcilable impulses—on one hand, that they were not close enough and, on the other, that she never wanted to be close to anyone ever again. What she saw against the black wall of her mind was a scene playing on loop in vivid color. Beyond her grasp, the blue fabric of her mother’s dress whisked by. The memory stood out, perhaps because she always wore red. Leonor felt the sting in her eyes as she held onto that thought and followed it to its logical conclusion: her own days in red were over, too. Her loss would always be this blue, sharply contrasting the orange rock and the royal red alike.

“Leonor—”

Whatever he hoped to say died on his lips as he saw her shoulders begin to shake. From the corner of his eye, he watched as she struggled for composure. He understood as well as she did that the sobs had to be contained. It was a mandate they all, as Uspanians, were obligated to respect. A tear may fall, but the worst of it had to be saved. He stared ahead, now feeling that sting in his own eyes. He had cried for Safya more than once. At this moment, however, he imagined the funeral, where he would finally see the pain Leonor was saving and cry for her instead.

Their clothes grew more damp as the rainfall increased. It was gentle, still, but they sat so long by the water’s edge that, even beneath the umbrella, his denim jeans and her linen pajamas began to cling. Leonor’s thick hair was wet. She could not distinguish her tears from the rainwater. At her side, Arturo fretted in his own mind about whether she was missed—if her bodyguards, unseen but watching, would hustle them back to the confines of the palace soon.

It was a small relief when Leonor extricated herself and stood up. It was abrupt, too, though he rose with her and attempted to shield her further from the rain drops. She wouldn’t admit that she wished he let the rain hit her. Instead, she walked quickly beyond reach of his umbrella.

“I’ll see you at the palace,” she called back to him as the distance between them grew wider and wider.

TRANSCRIPT:

[A] Leonor?

[L] Over here.

[A] How are you? [L] I’m … here. [A] Should I join you? [L] If you want to.

[A] Leonor— [L] I know. Thank you for being here.

[L] I’ll see you at the palace.

#ts4 story #sims story #sims 4 story #ts4 royalty #sims 4 royalty #ts4 royal legacy #ts4 royal family #royal sims #simblr #ts4 legacy #1992.story.post #1992.a1 #1992.ep01

72 notes · View notes

pretzel-box · 3 months

Text

Ties that bind [Leon Kennedy drabble]

Warnings: Fluff, slight Angst if you squint, mentions of abandoning, happy ending, RE2 Leon & no outbreak, female reader

Scenario: After growing close, Leon suddenly disappears shortly from your life, leaving you all confused and disappointed.

• Leon and you have an interesting relationship. It was rushed and not really on a healthy base at first. He came out of a break up, and his girlfriend left him when he moved to Raccoon City. You were there to catch him when he dared to fall hard with his life. The sweet receptionist that would bring his favorite coffee to the right times.

Leon wasn't usually a coffee drinker, the bitter taste would leave him shaking in disgust but somehow yours always tasted more sweet and instead of telling you to stop because he liked it, he kept playing along and actually drinking it. He didn't have the heart to turn down a gift from someone sweet as you.

Both of you got excited when he actually managed to talk to you properly during work time. His hands played nervously with his pen while he glanced at the fresh coffee on his table. "Do you usually drink coffee?" It was the first thing that came out of his mouth, and it definitely sounded more nervous and stuttering than he anticipated. He doesn’t know how, but you ended rambling about a small café where you got the perfect coffee blend, and he was definitely more shocked to find out that you invited him out to visit the café sometimes.

Your first date was in a vintage café, surrounded by the smell of fresh coffee and books. It felt right to sit there. He would tell you embarrassing stories about his life, making you laugh with that sweet voice of yours while you tell him about your fondest memories. It instantly clicked, despite the mess in Leons life and he was sure, maybe he can look over the past to start a future with you.

You two reached the point where you spend more time at Leons appartment than your own. It already included your favorite items, like the plushie he got you on the last carnival or the matching mug for your coffee sessions. His home had a piece of you. And there was no way that Leon wouldn't support that. He was a sweetheart, loving everything you show or tell him. Having your belongings in his own four walls was like a verification that he scored such an amazing girl.

Leon was mostly busy with work. Being a rookie cop takes a lot of effort and dedication. At least when he wants the respect of the other officers. You would always reassure him to focus on the important things. You would always have his back. But right now? You question if you have Leon at all.

No messages, no calls, no voice messages on the mailbox. He didn't tell you about any missions or trips. Of course, you worried for his wellbeing, but at the same time, you told yourself it's probably alright. He just had a bad week and needs some distance? It was all a lie to make you feel better.

You didn't see him at work during the next day. Your colleagues told you he was definitely present and just peachy as always. But the coffee on his table from the previous day was untouched and cold. The sweet note you wrote him already fell down from the lid, laying carelessly on the ground. You didn't bother to replace the cup but simply throw the current one away.

It was even more of a suprise when you found a note on your desk, written in Leons signature crappy handwriting to come over at his place after work. No hints, no other comments. Just a text to come and visit him. It was the ultimate hit that striked your poor heart and made you feel nauseous. He was breaking up with you after all.

Leon himself was leaving work earlier, rushing to his flat to prepare everything. It was a bit silly but he wanted to suprise you. He wasn't even aware of what damage he had had in the past few days. The poor guy has been too excited to set up a secret suprise for you and tried to avoid you so he didn't spoil it. Leon was innocent and dense, but he had good intentions.

Leons face dropped instantly when he opened the door and came face to face with your crying expression. Tears running down your cheeks from your red puffy eyes, your hands clenched painfully around your bag, and you looked pale. "If you wanna break up with me, then make it short. There is no need to waste our time even more." You tried to sound confident, but there was definitely a broken tone hidden in your voice.

Panic sets in, and the first thing he did was wrap his arms around you and pull you close into the savety of his embrace. "Honey, shh. Please calm down. I would never break up with you." His fingers comb through your hair, massaging your scalp gently as he desperately tries to calm you down.

"Then why didn't you talk to me? I haven't heard from you in three damn days!"

Now it was his turn to go pale. He didn't know that he had left her on her own for three whole days. Work and his planning made time pass by, leaving the poor man exhausted. "I'm so sorry, sunshine. Please hear me out." His thumb gently wiped another tear away from under your eye. "I would never avoid you on purpose. I lost track of time because of work and..." The man stopped himself.

"I actually want you to follow me."

Leon gently took your wrist, guiding you through the short hallway with the picture frames you hung up for him, into the cozy livingroom. The smell of coffee filled the room and he presented you his small work in dimmed lights.

The couch table had her favourite snacks, their mugs with fresh coffee and an photo album that included a small velvet box.

"How could I ever leave the woman that I wanna marry?"

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #resident evil fanfiction #leon kenendy fluff #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy fanfic

38 notes · View notes

shroombloomm · 7 months

Note

can you write where tanktoprry plays with y/ns hair after sex and she catches him admiring her but he gets defensive about it dont hate me!!

sure ~

A huff left Harry’s cherry lips, falling to the mattress where his sticky body sunk into the sheets. Chestnut curls stuck to his forehead as he tried to lap up the wet saliva of Y/N’s that made a mess on his lips.

Beside him, she laid there in awe, eyes nearly sunken in her face as she fought to keep them open. Her hand mindlessly searched for part of the sheets that would cover her chest, pulling it up as her hips shifted to the side to lay comfortably, though her legs were numb, she could feel the ache start from her and Harry’s endeavors.

Typically Harry wouldn’t allow her to stay longer than five minutes after he’s finished inside of her, yet he couldn’t stop painting the image of her possibly staying the night. Maybe for reasons that he could have a lovely breakfast in bed with her; the breakfast being sweet between her legs.

Her hair cascaded down her shoulders, falling to the side at her angle; he stared at the curve of her back as he pushed himself closer to her. For a moment he thought was silly, but bit back those thoughts, his fingers interlocked with her locks and the pads started to massage her scalp carefully.

He dared not to get any closer than this, even a twitch of his lips curled upwards in what seemed to be a foreign smile. When she noticed the affection, one that she isn’t one to get from him, she turned on her side towards him and caught that upwards curl.

“What?” She asked sleepily, her fingers clutched the cream colored sheets to her chest.

Harry’s face fell flat, within seconds the smile was gone and now she was met with the grumpy persona once more.

“What?” Harry mumbled, avoiding her gaze as he retracted his hand and instead interlocked them with his other hand to support the soft back of his head, “Nothing. I’m just fuckin…” He sighed, frustrated with himself, “I was just trying to be nice, that’s all.”

“Oh, okay.” Her lips curled down into a frown, after some moments of studying his hard features, she slipped out from the bed and started to gather her clothes.

Harry noticed out of the corner of his eye, “You going?”

“Yeah, it’s late.” She was short.

Harry felt a pang in his chest.

“Okay,” He mumbled, feet hitting the floor as he grabbed his briefs and pulled them on, “Guess I’ll walk you to the door.”

#tanktoprry #shroombloomm #harry styles blurb #harry styles x yn #harry styles x reader #harry styles #one direction

114 notes · View notes

33max · 9 months

Text

Thank you to everyone that participated, we managed to bring twenty two wonderful pieces of fic/art into the world!

Please show the authors/artists some love for all of their efforts, comments and kudos make everyone’s day ♥️

All you need is love and some cats by Astron03

“I think Teddy is finally getting used to the flat.”

One sentences was enough to completely break Daniel's world.

A story of misunderstandings and some olympic level jumping to conclusions.

Comfortable in chaos by winhighmaintenancemachines

Max and Lewis know the terms that they both deal in, the choices they make every day. Their whole world is walking on a spider’s thread.

Or, the NICU doctor/nurse au.

De Sebly (Part 2) by @miesgaga

Most people only meet one soulmate goose with a connection to them. Soulmates were sometimes romantic and sometimes platonic. Family bonds happen too, but those were rare.

Max met his goose, fell in love and felt like his life couldn't get better.

This is not that story.

Max meets his second goose, this is that story.

GBB Server Exchange by anangelwillfly

Headspins by @albertparks

“I do have feelings for someone else though.” Max’s comment breaks Daniel from his thoughts. “I broke up with her because of it.”

Daniel’s gobsmacked at first, before saying, “Who is she, Maxy?”

It’s a poor attempt at a joke, but now it’s his turn to be nosey, to put his beak in business that isn’t his. Max has never been single for long, he can’t imagine now would be any different.

Except Max says, “It’s a man. And it doesn’t matter.”

I don’t get much sleep most nights (I’m seeing you in every dream) by @enjoythebutterflies

In the real world, Max is well-versed in breaking more than just records.

The one where Max and Daniel dream.

in paper rings by @thewindowatkirkland

"Maxy I would fly to Vegas with you tomorrow and pay some guy dressed as Elvis to marry us. I don't care about any of this crap, I don’t care about anything other than you being happy and us being married. I thought you wanted all this, but if you don’t, then fuck it all."

And Max just has to kiss him, hard and fast and certain before he says "okay, let's fucking do it. Let's go, tomorrow. just me and you and a fake Elvis."

OR: after a ten year engagement and with an extravagant wedding all planned out, they decide to elope to vegas instead.

It was written in the stars, but you erased it by @formula-maxiel

Max was twelve when his father had his soul mark removed. He had no idea how much anguish it would cause him.

Let me guide you by @waddlingpenguin

Max learns something about himself.

Daniel is more than happy to indulge.

listen to the slow parts by winhighmaintenancemachines

Neither Max or Daniel are the one to find the baby. That honor belongs to Christian, and Christian alone.

lock it up by @33max

Max is in their bed frantically humping a pillow that he’s folded in half. He’s shoved his little dick into the crease of it and he’s rabbiting his hips, he’s not got the equipment to properly thrust – if he pulled his hips back too far his cock would slip out of the fold.

the meaning of a flower by @meecamille

silly cute fluffy stuff led me to flowershop and hopeless romantic boys.

of angels and demons by @shitferraristrategy

Daniel loves to corrupt his little angel~ <3

platinum trophy by togenkyo

Fame, fortune, fortitude: For the man who has everything, what's left?

postcards from the past by @thatsapodium

I’ll send you another postcard soon. Miss you, love Max

A selection of postcards from the time Max backpacks across Australia.

Punch it! by @stardust-speedway6

An animatic of Lando and Max.

Max admonishes a punching bag.

Static by @chaoticzoomies

Walking into the Red Bull garage that Friday something felt off but Max couldn't put his finger on it. It wasn't necessarily a bad feeling but just slightly off kilter, like someone had shifted things a few centimetres to the left. As he rounded the corner to the operations desk it clicked.

stay in for the summer (it's quiet, i'm trying) by @33and3

Take me to the Water by @fricative-pharyngiale

Still, he yearned for more, for everything Daniel could give him and then the rest too, his greediness all-consuming until it was all he could feel. He wanted to be the muse of every song Daniel wrote, so that they would be immortalised together. He wanted to take his poet to the river and drown him in his waters, keeping him close forever. He wanted to let his body liquefy so Daniel could drink him entirely, not a single drop left behind. He wanted to drain him of his blood and replace it with water from his river so they’d be the same, always.

A series of vignettes about nymph Max and his poet

The Tale of Max Verstappen by @danielfuckingricciardo

During the summer break, Max and Daniel take a trip to the Lake District to spend some time together alone.

When Max suggests they visit the Beatrix Potter museum, Daniel is only happy to take him on a date and treat him to a gift.

until I hear it from you by @fourmula1

DeuxMoi (also stylized Deuxmoi or @/deuxmoi) is a pseudonymous Instagram account which publishes celebrity gossip.

with the right amount of sugar by flyingkageyama

Max only wanted to find solace in one of the coffee shops he knew was a few miles away from campus, he didn’t expect one of the employees with a crappy drawing of a honey badger on his name tag to come try and get him to talk about his problems.

#gbbserverexchange #please do me a solid and reblog the fuck outta this!#everyone worked SO hard!

121 notes · View notes

supervillainarchaeologist · 2 months

Text

Seeing as I've been on a bit of an Avengers Loki nostalgia spiral recently, I thought I would post about perhaps The Greatest Piece of Merch I Own. I took these photos when I was faffing around with my display cabinet a couple of weeks ago and only realised after I looked at the images HOW dusty he was - maybe this is why I feel like he's always scowling at me? This figure was a Christmas present in 2013. I was going to buy it myself about a month before but was too embarrassed/shy to ask the no doubt lovely shop assistant in the comic book store. My husband went in and bought it for me instead. There's a few details on the costume that have always bugged me for being wrong, but undoubtedly it's an impressive figure.

Stressful highlights of owning this Loki have included:

Finally getting him out of the box around New Year's Day 2014 only for my husband to immediately knock him off the table onto the floor headfirst! The helmet re-separated and fell off his head but everything was fine, I think the horns broke the fall...

Having to hold him on my knee in the moving van passenger seat when we moved a couple of years ago because he won't really fit back in his original box and I didn't want to risk any damage putting him loose in another box. I also didn't want to risk sticking bubble wrap to him!

The absolute fear any time I need to wipe him with a wet cloth of warm water!

His left hand falling off if I ever try to re-pose him slightly!

The rage-inducing struggle that was attaching the cape and helmet so those are ON there now forever!

The occasional and probably ridiculous intrusive thought that "what if someone breaks in and steals him?" (I guarantee there's much more expensive/sellable stuff in my flat but my brain is just a bit silly sometimes...)

But he's the jewel in the crown of my action figure collection and worth all that stress. 10/10.

#loki (marvel)#hot toys #collectibles #action figures #the avengers #2011-2013 loki supremacy #marvel #marvel cinematic universe

25 notes · View notes

Last Seen Blogs

noeliatabernas

Malagueña.

w0rdsandthings

💀

glhyzo

Untitled

heretostealyogirl

Certified Ganonfucker™

mirrorbulb