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after-witch · 3 months

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Sweet Valentine [wri0thesley OC Lucas x reader]

Title: Sweet Valentine [@wri0thesley OC Lucas x Reader]

Synopsis: It's Valentine's Day and Lucas has some sweet surprises planned, but things don't go as well as you'd hoped.

Word count: 3164

notes: Yandere, kidnapped reader, mentions of cannibalism, abusive relationship, mentions of violence, non-graphic descriptions of noncon and dubcon sex, reader is implied to be afab

“You… want somethin’ special for Valentine’s Day, sweetheart?”

Lucas’ voice is low and tender, and when you look up at him, you see a faint blush dusting his cheeks. It’s a familiar sight. He always gets like this, when it comes to romance. Or what he thinks is romance, anyway.

You think it’s all that vulnerability that comes along with romance; the possibility of rejection, as if you were stupid enough to outright reject anything he wanted to give you. Not unless you wanted to meet the sharp end of a glare

(Or an axe.)

But it’s there anyway, that vulnerability. In the way he sometimes glances away or the way his cheeks gain a deeper tint or the lilt in his voice. He gets awkward and when you’re feeling dark and low, you sometimes wonder what he’d do if you didn’t thank him for his gifts, if you didn’t lean into his arms when he opened them, if you wiped away his kisses, if you were as ungrateful and awful as you were currently too afraid to be.

The answer always comes swiftly: He’d kill you, moron.

Maybe not right away. But you’d chip at his goodwill, such as it was, bit by bit until nothing was left but raw steel. And where would that raw steel go? Right into your skull, stupid.

You’re a lot of things. Scared. A liar. Helpless. But you’re not stupid.

So you return his blush with a practiced meek gaze. The kind where you glance up at him and then look quickly down, and cross one arm (but never both, that’s too petulant) over your chest.

Shy, that’s what you are; or rather, what you’ve become in order to survive here.

If he thinks you’re shy and quiet and meek, it seems easier for him to brush aside the way you tremble; the way you flinch; the way you sometimes find yourself begging him to wait, just wait oh please, you’re not quite ready to go all the way yet.

And if you have to debase yourself by taking his length into your trembling hands, by letting him touch you until you trembled and came on his fingers, it’s what you’ll do to put off the inevitable for another day.

“Nothing special,” you say, voice crackling with the dryness of the morning air. He doesn’t respond. He’s disappointed, you think. Nothing special isn’t good enough for Valentine’s Day. So you add, quietly but quickly: “But maybe… If it’s not too much trouble… some chocolate?”

You glance up at him and he’s got an almost goofy smile on his face now. It makes you relieved--it makes you sick.

“Or--or we could watch a romantic comedy?” You suggest. You bite your lip then, a holdover gesture from your old life. “Oh, but you don’t really have any, so I guess we could just--”

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head about that.” He pulls you close without giving you a choice and you lean your head against his shoulder, just like you ought to do. “I’ll find you somethin’ in town this weekend. Gotta go get some supplies anyway.”

You smile and press your face towards his chest, so that he feels the curve of your lips against his shirt. “Thank you, Lucas. Really… really any movie you like is fine, but if you can find one, that would be okay.”

He sighs and presses one large hand against the back of your head, trailing it down past your neck--he could snap it so easily--until he’s rubbing your back.

“You’re the sweetest, you know that, angel?”

You don’t answer, because you don’t need to, and he presses a kiss to the top of your head.

You were good. You behaved well. You did what he wanted. Did it matter that you didn’t want chocolates or to watch a movie with him for Valentine’s Day or any day at all? Did it matter that at home, your real home, you were loud and brash and your mother would have pissed herself laughing if anyone called you shy?

No. Of course not.

If only the truth wouldn’t get you killed.

You don’t want chocolates or a VHS copy of some outdated romantic comedy.

The only thing you really want for Valentine’s Day is to go home.

The chocolate isn’t great, but it’s not awful, either. There was even a cherry cordial--your favorite--and Lucas’ eyes had lit up when you told him so.

It was a nice surprise.

After all, the cynical part of you imagined Lucas showing up with a dusty box of chocolates that tasted like stale sweetness; the kind you find overpriced at drugstores, boxes that forgetful husbands pick up on the way home from work on the day-of.

But when he came home from town, he’d sheepishly handed over a bouquet of colorfully dyed flowers. A mixture of carnations that were an impossibly vivid pink and daisies with bright blue petals. It was just the kind of bouquet you used to pick out for your mom when you were a kid, because you were drawn to the pops of unnaturally colorful simple flowers more than you were ordinary red roses.

“Know you like, uh…” He’d held out the bouquet and waited for you to take it from him before continuing. “Know you like this kind of pink, so…”

You held the bouquet to your chest and felt something that might have been pleasure. It was nice to have something familiar. Something you might pick up at a supermarket on the way home from work. Real flowers were beautiful, of course, and you’d grown to love the sight of them surrounding the cabin.

But these couldn’t be found in the wilderness in which you were now settled. They were a sign that people still existed out there, people that weren’t you and Lucas and the ghosts of people who came before you.

And that made them more special.

“Honey?”

“Angel?.”

“Darlin’.”

It’s the darlin’ that yanks you out of your disassociation. How long had it been going on? You glance down at your fingers and realize you’re holding a half-eaten chocolate bon-bon. Your elbow feels stiff, you must have been holding it up for a while.

You shakily set it back down on the box and force yourself to look over at Lucas, who is cuddled up next to you, holding you in a firm but warm grip, with his arm slung around your shoulder keeping you close.

He looks irritated. Like you said something wrong again. Only you weren’t saying anything, but that might be the problem; ignoring him was just as bad (sometimes worse) as doing the wrong thing.

“You don’t like the movie?” His voice is gruffer than it should be today, of all days.

The movie?

Oh shit.

You blink and blink and slowly details around you come back into focus. The dim lighting in the cabin, to set the mood. The flickering light of the TV and the soft whir of the VCR that could only be heard faintly under the movie itself.

And the movie…

The movie was almost over. The VHS he’d found was of a vaguely familiar movie you remember seeing on TV a few times. It wasn’t a classic but it wasn’t a stink-bomb, either.

“Angel…”

He turns toward you and after a moment, takes your chin into his hands. You quickly glance down--meek, shy, feeble thing that you are--so he doesn’t see the fear that must be blinking through the back of your eyeballs by now.

“You don’t like the movie, do you? Did I pick the wrong one?” There’s none of the usual sweet compromise in his voice, though, that makes you think saying “yes” might be an option. Instead, you get the sense that he’s laying traps for you to step on. Traps meant for someone ungrateful who completely zones out during what was supposed to be a romantic evening snuggling on the couch.

Dumbass, you think. I’m such a dumbass.

“Do you…” You speak suddenly and swallow hard. Talking is awkward with his fingers holding your chin, but he doesn’t let go. “Do you want a chocolate?” You offer up the box that’s half-empty by now. The cherry cordials were gone, and maybe you should have offered him one since they were your favorite. But there’s nothing to be done about it, so you hold up the last caramel-filled piece towards him.

Maybe he’ll appreciate the gesture.

He finally lets go of your chin and huffs out a snort through his nose. That’s good, usually. A sign he’s calming down. But he doesn’t smile at you, and you can feel the heaviness in the air, a sort of sick pressure that you need to relieve before it gets worse.

“I’m not much for sweets.” He says this like you ought to know. And you do, actually, it’s just… you don’t know what else to do.

Your lips quirk downward. You lift the piece until it’s close to his mouth.

“I know, I just--wanted to share. Please? One bite?” It’s almost a reversal, really; the way he sometimes has to nudge you to eat, when your stomach is all twisted in knots from anxiety or when you can’t shove away the thought that what you’re eating is almost certainly not an animal. Sometimes he feeds you just because he’s in a particular mood, a mood where you need to be more fragile and helpless than you are, which isn’t saying much.

Lucas’ eyes widen then and he finally smiles softly at you. His voice is low and gruff but you think, not quite as irritated as before.

“All right, angel. A bite.”

He opens his mouth and you slide the chocolate forward until it’s under his teeth. He takes a bite and you pull away, caramel dripping from the half-eaten chocolate that you set back in the box.

Lucas chews with his mouth closed (he has impeccable manners when he’s not murdering people, thank God for that) but then there’s the thought of the chocolate and caramel being chewed by the same teeth that just ate a “steak” for dinner--what if there’s a stray piece of meat left in his molars and they mix?

It’s enough to make the sticky sweet flavor of the cherry cordials rise in your throat, acidic and sour from the chocolate digesting in your stomach.

“Sorry,” you murmur, nuzzling closer to him like an apologetic pet as he finishes chewing. “I didn’t mean to get distracted earlier.”

Lucas hums and pulls you tighter against him, harder than normal. He presses a kiss against the side of your head. A hint of caramel wafts in the air.

“Mind you don’t drift often again, honey.”

Lucas is still upset with you. Although you can’t quite call this “still” upset, because this is different from earlier. He’s not still annoyed that you were distracted during the movie or, at least, that’s not the real source of his irritation.

But what--what did you do? You thanked him for the flowers and chocolates. You kissed him (on the lips!) after he gave them to you. You snuggled on the couch and yes you fucked up during the movie, but you made up for it, you thought.

You set the table for dinner without being asked, you ate without hesitation and complimented his cooking… you were quiet, you helped him clean up the eggs, you made a joke about Dolly the chicken needing a Valentine’s Day card from him and he chuckled at it.

You didn’t argue when he insisted he scrub you up during the bath, even when his hand dipped between your legs and lingered on your chest. You quietly let him brush your hair and pick out your pajamas (a pink nightie, tonight) and did everything you thought he wanted.

So what in the hell did you do wrong today that has him practically glowering at you as you both sit on the bed? You’ve re-read the same page in your book a hundred times while you tried to figure it out. You can’t go to bed like this, wondering if he’s angry, wondering if you’ll wake up in the morning to find him hovering over you with a glare and a weapon. Or maybe you won’t even wake up at all.

“Angel?” There’s a gruff edge to the word tonight that tightens your chest.

“Yes?” Your voice is squeakier than you intended. You tuck a bookmark into your pages and set the book down on your nightstand, and look up at Lucas with practiced meekness that is made all the more real through the gnawing fear in your belly.

Lucas hesitates before he speaks. Emotions shift on his face. Irritation, disappointment, even something you think is sadness. They only make the feeling in your chest worse. What did you do? Why is he acting this way?

“I… wasn’t expectin’ nothing fancy, you know. But I thought you’d at least make somethin’ for me today.”

Make something for him?

Oh.

Fuck.

In all your worries about behaving perfectly, you didn’t even think about getting Lucas something for Valentine’s Day. Making him a card or throwing together a quick embroidery hoop or--something. That’s what a good spouse would do, right? It’s what he would expect from you, on today of all days. Sure, he wasn’t big on presents, and he’d told you a few months ago not to worry about Christmas (you’d embroidered a scene outside the window of his bedroom, the trees and snow and a little silver rabbit) but this was different.

It was a couple’s day, and you were part of that couple.

And you’d fucked up.

He’s not done, either.

“I went outta my way to get you everything you wanted. Drove all the way into town… An’ you didn’t even pay attention during the movie.” If you weren’t increasingly terrified, you might be able to snort at how petulant he sounded, complaining that you didn’t watch the movie well enough. But there’s nothing funny about the way his voice is starting to raise or the way you can practically feel his muscles getting tenser by the moment.

“Did you even appreciate any of it?” It’s more to himself than to you, and that scares you more than anything else has in recent memory.

Your mouth comes up with a plan the exact moment that your brain does. You’re not sure if your brain would have let you go through with it, if it had more than a split second to think.

“I did get you something!”

Lucas shifts on the bed and looks at you questioningly. He doesn’t look convinced. Not yet. There’s a swift moment in which you have to convince him and you jump into it, feet first.

“I… I just didn’t know how to wrap it, that’s all.” Your throat bobs when you swallow and you look up at him with a soft expression that’s part nerves, part hope.

“I don’t know what y’mean, darlin’.”

His eyebrows furrow and you take a deep breath before you reach over and take his hand. You give it a squeeze and shift on the bed yourself, this time leaning backwards on the pillows.

“My gift is…” Oh, you don’t want to; but you have nothing else you can give him now. You swallow again and fiddle with the end of your nightgown. It’s a flimsy thing, isn’t it?

“I’m ready to… that is--I’m ready to…”

You can’t finish the words but you don’t need to, because both of Lucas’ eyebrows raise before his lips curl into a delighted smile as he realizes what you mean.

He looks giddy. He looks drunk, despite not having a drink tonight. He looks like he’s going to devour you, and you can only be mildly grateful that it’s not in the way you normally fear.

“Oh, angel.”

In moments, he’s shifted above you, his body looming over your own, filling up all of your space with his size and warmth.

“This is the best gift you could give me.” He presses a chaste kiss to your lips, then again; a kiss to your cheeks, to your eyes that close so he can kiss the lids. “I’m sorry I doubted you. Oh, honey, you must have been thinkin’ about this all day. No wonder you were so distracted.”

There’s nowhere to go, if you wanted to go. Nowhere to run, if you were capable of running. He’s here and you’re here and this is going to happen now.

No more putting it off, no more gentle pleas, no more convincing him that you can do that and not this, not yet.

All because you forgot to make a damn Valentine’s Card.

His hands hold the edge of your nightie and begin to lift it up, exposing the soft cotton underwear underneath.

“I love you so much. You know that, sweetheart?”

He doesn’t take the nightgown off; instead he bunches it up against your neck, exposing your chest.

“I love you too,” you murmur, because you’ve had enough of your own stupidity today not to answer his declarations.

Your eyes flick up to the ceiling as he begins pulling down your underwear.

It’s going to happen now. He’ll fuck you. And once that happens, well. It’ll keep happening. Every night? Every other night? You don’t know, but he’ll expect it. Things are changing and you can’t stop them. All you can do is try to scramble for what little pleasantries this isolated, captive life can give you.

Like not-bad chocolates and bunnies outside the window.

Lucas’ hands grip the meat of your thighs and pull them apart with little resistance on your end. You don’t want to make it worse, do you? And it was your idea, you can’t even pretend to be anything but meekly nervous, can you?

He murmurs something in appreciation at the sight of your naked sex and your fingers clutch the sheets underneath you in anticipation.

You don’t want to look down. It’s like being at the doctor’s--looking away when they give you the shot. You hear the sound of his trousers being pushed down. But he doesn’t push into you just yet.

Instead, he leans down, pressing a hot, wet kiss to your mouth that opens without argument.

There’s a faint taste of peppermint toothpaste and a hint of lingering caramel--he didn’t brush his molars well enough, maybe--in his mouth.

“Love you,” he whispers against your lips. Maybe he sees the nervousness in your gaze and for once, is fine with it. It’s normal to be anxious about your first time, after all. “It's gonna feel good, I promise… I know what I’m doin’.”

Damn, you think vacantly, stomach lurching against your thoughts when you feel the unmistakable press of something hot and hard and wet against your naked thigh. I wish I saved the second cherry cordial for tomorrow.

#yandere #other's ocs #darkfic #last year's valentine's fic was also Lucas it is now a tradition #afterwitch writes #happy valentine's day!!

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weirdly-specific-but-ok · 3 months

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Asmi, a little Valentines Day David video if you haven’t already seen it:

https://www.tumblr.com/rainbowpopeworld/739961779087638528/bonus-gifs

IT'S 6:30 AM WHY IS THIS VALENTINE'S DAY ALREADY SET UP TO BE THE WEIRDEST ONE YET I'M SOBBING--

Things that have happened so far:

You maggots invaded some poor bloke's post (@us-costco-official), and it turns out his mum is on here and she's part of the good omens fandom, so he's been given the news that his mum has a secret second family and I'm his half-sibling since the fandom made me their child. EDIT: *clears throat* On that note, maybe we should errr... be calmer? poor dude's blocked me i'm losing my mind.

This goddamn video PLEASE. Linking it here so it's easier for y'all to be scarred.

Sent a Muriel Valentine to someone I don't even know :")

AND BEST OF FUCKING ALL, GOOD OMENS WON THE BEST TV COMEDY DRAMA, COMEDY.CO.UK AWARD. HERE'S NEIL'S VIDEO ON THAT.

HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY MY MAGGOTS, CAN WE GET A MOTHERFUCKING WAHOO FOR THE CAST, CREW, NEIL, TERRY, AND THIS WHOLE LOVELY FANDOM???

AND OF COURSE, FOR AZIRAPHALE AND CROWLEY. HAPPY INEFFABLE VALENTINE'S DAY!!!

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shatterinseconds · 3 months

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“It’s a simple three step beat; what aren’t you understanding about it, Mullet?” Lance asks, annoyance beginning to leak through his voice. He’s tried to cap his frustration as much as possible throughout the past hour. But this has become ridiculous. If anything, Keith has gotten worse at dancing than when they started the lesson. Brief pain sparks through Lance’s foot and he cracks. “And stepping on my toes isn’t one of them!”

“Some of us didn’t get three years of ballroom dance lessons,” Keith snaps, irritated.

“Which is why I’m teaching you. But you’re not listening to a single thing I say! You can’t even get close to me.” Lance tries to tug Keith forward but he remains just as stubborn as always, aggravating and infuriating.

What looms between them is a larger gap than needed, with Keith holding him at an arm’s length as if he’s a poisonous snake ready to bite. A balloon would fall straight through to the floor; Lance’s arms are almost entirely extended. He thought Keith would be a little more willing considering the stake of the mission.

Keith clenches his jaw. “I’m trying.”

“For someone as coordinated as you on the battlefield, this shouldn’t be this difficult.” Lance scowls, taking a page out of Keith’s book.

“Me not knowing how to dance isn’t going to break the alliance.”

“Were you even listening to Allura?”

“Were you?” Keith bites back, too smirky for Lance’s taste. Yeah, he may have been fiddling with his comm device under the table, trying to play an old earth game Pidge had downloaded onto it. That’s beside the point.

So Lance ignores him. “The Zolxox see dance as a creation of trust and loyalty between two groups of people. If we miss a step, they won’t join the coalition.”

“But why’d it have to be us?” The Zolxox only needed a pair of dancers, not their whole team.

Lance rolls his eyes. “Because I have three years of dance experience, duh.” But his annoyance quickly fades when Keith doesn’t snap back with their classic banter. In fact, he continues to stand there, his hands not exactly touching Lance anymore but hovering. Keith stares at him with such a blank expression that Lance allows a bit of the truth to spill. “And–And because I work best with you,” he mumbles, ducking his head to avoid any minute reaction from Keith. When he does flick his gaze up, Keith remains impassive. “But you gotta listen to me, Mullet. Why won’t you just follow what I say?”

That’s when Lance loses Keith entirely. He steps back from Lance, arms folded against his chest, not loose at all. Keith can’t seem to look at him anymore either. “It’s awkward… being close to you.”

“Oh.” Lance drops his empty hands, suddenly despondent. He didn’t know Keith felt that way about him. He thought they’d finally become friends, maybe inching toward something more. Maybe Lance should have chosen Allura for this mission like everyone thought he would. His shoulders begin to hunch forward.

“Shit, no, not in that way.” Keith groans as he cards a hand through his hair, frustrated at himself. Strands stick out in multiple directions, silly enough that Lance wants to punch through whatever new wall is between them and fix it for him. But Keith wouldn’t appreciate that. “I just meant, I know the way I feel about you isn’t how you feel about me and I don’t want to make it weird for you.”

“How do you know how I feel about you if you never once asked?”

Keith gives him a look. “Please. You flirt with everyone but me. Even I understand what that means.”

“That’s not—That’s—Oh my god—” Lance suddenly steps forward, waving his arms as he talks, too flustered to be rational. “With everyone else, it’s fun, meaningless, a way to lighten the mood.” His skin heats enough that he must be glowing from embarrassment. “But you—With you, it’s different. I try to spend time together and constantly try to get your atten—wait.” Eyes popping wide, Lance starts to point, jabbing his finger into Keith’s chest. “You just told me you liked me!” His brain finally internalizes what Keith had said, what Keith implied. It immediately derails his train of thought. “You like me!”

Keith startles before his entire expression pinches. He growls. “Uh uh, we’re focusing on you and your terrible flirting techniques.” He steps up to Lance and keeps stepping toward him until he is the only thing Lance can focus on. Those violet eyes bore into Lance, head tilted and brows drawn. “How was I supposed to know I was different?” he asks, low and steady.

“Goddammit, Keith.” Lance surges forward and kisses Keith square on the mouth. His hands weave through Keith’s hair, musing it further, while Keith’s strong grip lands on his waist, fingers hooking into his belt loops. He pulls Lance in and tugs on his lower lip, his teeth scraping slightly but in a way that buzzes across Lance’s skin. When they part, Lance is breathless with swollen lips and eyes half-lidded. It’s a struggle to speak but he manages to mumble, “Does that clear things up?”

Keith nods. Blush stains his pale cheeks though he holds Lance’s stare, never wavering, and he even starts to smirk the longer they remain in silence. Like he knows that he affected Lance just as much as Lance affected him.

He’s going to be the death of Lance one day; this man…

“G-Good,” Lance finally says, struggling to regain his composure, if he ever had some to begin with. “We’ll talk about this later. But right now, we dance.”

Kith groans, though less annoyed than before, and for the first time, effortlessly moves all the way into Lance’s space, smiling a small smile. They dance without any issues, except for maybe a few butterflies.

#klance #voltron #vld #voltron legendary defender #klance fic #keith x lance #my writing #happy valentine's day!!

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soft-girl-musings · 3 months

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What do we think jake thinks about Valentine's day?

hope you had a good one!

ohhhh man, what does Jake Lockley think of Valentine's Day? It depends.

I could see him keeping busy, mostly driving around all day. He'll see couple after couple to their Valentine's plans: college sweethearts, parents taking the night off, older couples still exchanging whispers and stolen kisses like they're new in love: all kinds of lovers come and go to their festivities, morning to night. Jake keeps a cool head when he's on the clock, but sneaking a look at his backseat tugs at his heartstrings sometimes. It's sweet.

-until it's not.

Because nobody buys flowers for their cab driver. Nobody leaves a handwritten card, or serenades the middleman. Some people tip a bit more generously, but seeing couple after couple stumble into each other's arms while he drives away with an empty car can tug his heart the other way if he's not careful. Going unseen is fine the other 364 days of the year; why should today be any different?

Maybe one year he's ruminating on this reality between passengers. Maybe it's one of those hard years where he's one off-key ballad in the backseat away from kicking the next drunken couple to the curb. But the rent's due and he can't keep dipping into Marc's savings. So he stays out despite wanting to go home, turn on a sad movie, and destroy a pint of ice cream (it's only a guilty pleasure if you let it be).

Maybe this time someone enters his backseat alone. It's an unusual silence on the 14th, and Jake spies a pair of empty hands: no roses, no chocolates, no partner. And maybe this person asks him to just drive around for a while, doesn’t matter how high the meter runs because they're good for it, but please just drive. And he does. Maybe he asks how their day's been- standard smalltalk- and they laugh bitterly before unloading their Valentine's woes on their unsuspecting driver. Long story short, they can't wait for this holiday to be over.

And maybe Jake just... lets them talk. For as long as they want, because this is the first time someone has said more than their address or if he can break a $20 (he can but he won't). Maybe he turns the meter off and they stay like this for a couple of hours, taking turns with the music and airing their grievances. Jake hasn't laughed this hard on the job in... well, ever. It's a delightful change of pace.

Maybe they pull over for a cheap bite. And being face to face makes Jake reconsider his stance on meet-cute clichés. And the whole notion of "moving too fast". And making a near stranger breakfast in the morning.

Maybe Valentine's Day isn't so bad.

#mine was great and made better by your sweet ask buddy #happy valentine's day!!#asks #ivystoryweaver #moon knight #jake lockley #jake lockley headcanon

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quick-catton · 3 months

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Why Don't You Figure My Heart Out?

[NSFW | 3K | Felix Catton/Oliver Quick, Valentine's Day, Oxford, Oliver's First Kiss, Gay Confusion, Making Out, Grinding, Hair-pulling, Frottage, Coming In Pants]

“There, there, Ollie,” Felix teases. “You’ll have your first kiss someday.”

“There’s no rush,” Oliver mumbles absentmindedly, not meeting his eyes, and Felix feels his world stop turning.

“What?”

[title from 'heart out' – the 1975]

#happy valentine's day!!#inexperienced oliver and obsessive felix my beloved #i power–wrote half of this in one sitting to get it done by today #and that may be normal for some people but not i #so it better be half decent #cattonquick #cattonquick fic #cattonquick edit #felix x oliver #oliver quick #felix catton #saltburn #saltburn fic #quick-catton fics

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anophiles · 3 months

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married 💍💘

#ferdibert #ferdinand von aegir #hubert von vestra #fire emblem three houses #fe3h #my art #happy valentine's day!!#this art gave me SO MUCH GRIEF AND DESPAIR in the last 3 days #I redrew it like 20 times or MORE #but it's here #they're married and lived happily ever after #hubert's vest is coffee plant pattern #ferdinand's is camelia pattern

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suckmyarschkarte · 3 months

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#happy valentine's day!!#idk. i just love all of yous #❤️

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miyani · 1 year

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Stop and stare ❤️

#happy valentine's day!!#art #fanart #mcyt #mcyt fanart #dreamwastaken #dreamwastaken fanart #georgenotfound #georgenotfound fanart #dnf #dnf fanart

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littlehornedoak · 3 months

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brushbug says happy valentine's day!

#my art #artists on tumblr #digital art #brushbug #brushbuddy #fudemushi #witch hat atelier #wha fanart #witch hat atelier fanart #atelier of witch hat #valentines day #valentines cards #happy valentine's day!!#i whipped these up real fast

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theotherluxray · 1 year

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Valentine’s day shinx fusion!

#happy valentine's day!!#shinx #sylveon #pokemon #pokemon fusion #fusion #want to do more for V-day #but I'll just have to get to that rt later

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prismagirlart · 1 year

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Good luck covering some last-minute shopping!

...Just remember to keep looking behind you.

#my bloody valentine #valentine's day #the miner #harry warden #axel palmer #my bloody valentine 1981 #my art #happy valentine's day!!

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vegetadaily · 1 year

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He’s trying his best..

#fyanimegifs #dragon ball #dbz #vegeta #ベジータ #dbs gifs: vegebul #dbs gifs others: kid trunks #happy valentine's day!!

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kanerallels · 3 months

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For @monthly-challenge day 14: "I love you", I'm finally updating the Steve Miller Au!! But this one can be read as a standalone as well

Full fic under the cut, but you can also read it on AO3 here!!

Taglist: @day-to-day-thots @auroramagpie @laughingphoenixleader @accidental-spice @heckin-music-dork @opalknight @seleneisrising @cassie-fanfics (DM me if you want to me added or removed to the tag list!)

More and more in life, Kanan found his days full. Namely, full of missions and reports and maintenance and training and working. There were so many things to do, people to help, and between training Ezra, working with Hera and the rest of the crew, and still managing his network of spies, Kanan was busier than he would have liked.

Obviously he delegated, and he wasn’t busy constantly. But no matter how hard he worked, it seemed so rare that he had any real free time. Or in reality, he supposed, it was rare he had any real free time when Hera did, too.

That was why Kanan treasured the times they did have even more.

It was late, and the two of them were sitting up in the Ghost’s kitchen. Hera had just gotten back from a recon mission with her new squadron, and Kanan had stayed up to greet her.

“You look tired,” he told her as she dropped onto a supply crate with a sigh. Glancing up, Hera snorted.

“That’s charming,” she said dryly.

“It in no way detracts from your beauty,” Kanan assured her, and she laughed.

“You’re so full of it sometimes.”

Shooting her a wink, Kanan said, “You like me that way, and you know it. Can I make you something to eat? There are some leftovers I can heat up.”

“Yes, please,” she said. “Although I can take care of it—”

As she started to rise, Kanan gently pushed her back into a sitting position. “Uh-uh. We learned our lesson on that one when you nearly set the kitchen on fire last week. Besides, I don’t mind. You sit and tell me about your mission.”

Giving him a grateful smile, Hera leaned back with a sigh. “It was a pretty routine op. I’m still getting used to working with a larger team like this, but after working with you and the others for so long, it’s not too hard. And they seem to accept me as their leader.”

“Of course they do,” Kanan said, opening the Tupperware container he’d pulled out of the fridge. “Why wouldn’t they? You are the incredible Captain Hera Syndulla— and they’ve seen you risk your life time after time for this rebellion.”

“Hmm. You know, I’m still trying to decide if I should thank you for this recommendation.”

Switching on the stove, Kanan started scooping out the contents of the container— a meat and vegetable stir fry he’d made for dinner a few hours earlier. “It wasn’t me who got you the job, you know. I made the suggestion, but Sato’s the one who chose you. Past that, it’s entirely your own fault.”

Hera scoffed. “You’re the one who put it in motion. You realize this means I’ll be even busier now?”

Grimacing, Kanan said, “I didn’t really connect those dots until after I told Sato. But, unfortunately, I stand by it. You’re the best person for the job. We don’t have another pilot like you.”

“Thanks, love.”

“You’re welcome, Captain Hera.”

The two of them stayed in the kitchen together as Kanan heated up the leftovers and Hera talked about her new squadron, telling him about the ones that caused trouble and the others that were excited to have her. “I’ll have to introduce them to you and the others properly,” she said. “I think you’ll get along with them.”

“Anyone who likes you, I usually like,” Kanan said, grabbing a bowl from the cupboard.

He dished up the stirfry and passed the bowl to Hera, who accepted it with a laugh. “I think if we test that, it’ll be disproved pretty quickly,” she said.

“Probably,” Kanan said, pulling open a drawer. “Where in the name of the Force are all of our forks? I thought I told Ezra to put them away in here.”

“Jyn rearranged the drawers the other day,” Hera said. “She said the way we had things organized was driving her insane and she couldn’t live like this any longer. I assume she didn’t inherit this from you?”

Checking a few more drawers, Kanan said, “Not likely. Aha!” Grabbing a fork, he passed it to Hera. “Mission accomplished. Meet you in the lounge? I want to find something to snack on.”

“See you there,” Hera agreed, sticking the fork into her bowl before heading into the lounge. Kanan remained behind only for a minute. Digging through the cupboards, he located a half-empty bag of chips and headed out to join her.

They sat on the couch, side-by-side. Hera devouring her dinner, Kanan at her side, they settled into a comfortable silence for a little while. Kanan didn’t mind it, much though he loved Hera’s voice. Any time he was with her was time well spent.

Finally, Hera pushed aside her empty bowl and sat back with a sigh, letting her head drop against Kanan’s shoulder. He offered her the bag of chips, and she took a few. “Force, I’m glad to be home,” she mumbled.

“Must have been a long trip,” Kanan commented as she munched on her snack. “You tired?”

“A little,” Hera said. “But I can’t sleep just yet— I was wanting to run some maintenance checks on my A-wing before our next mission.”

“Ah, yes,” Kanan said, feeling a small grin cross his face. “Your A-wing. Did I see Sabine did a, uh, a little work on it? I like it.”

Hera elbowed him in the ribs. “Don’t you start.”

“What? I said that I like it!”

“We’re not discussing this.” Glancing down at her, Kanan saw Hera flushing slightly. “Besides,” she said, “it was Sabine’s idea.”

Chuckling, Kanan said, “I had a feeling. Doesn’t really seem like your thing.”

“No,” Hera said decisively. “But it’s Sabine’s art, so I’m not going to get rid of it.”

“Mm-hmm. Is that the only reaso— ow!” Kanan let out a yelp as Hera walloped him in the arm. “Okay, okay, dropping it.”

Resettling against him, Hera muttered, “You’d better.” Despite her words, a hint of humor colored her tone, and Kanan couldn’t hold back his grin.

He slipped an arm around her, pulling her a little closer. “You know, the A-wing can probably wait until tomorrow. You need some rest.”

Hera let out a sigh. “Don’t tempt me, dear. I should be setting a good example for the others.”

“Including a terrible sleep schedule?” Kanan said, and Hera snorted.

“It’s not that bad of a sleep schedule.”

“Uh-huh. Well, I respect your commitment.”

As she sat up slowly, Hera raised an eyebrow at him. “You’d better not be teasing me again.”

“I’m not, I promise,” Kanan promised her. “You stick with your principles, you always have. And you follow through. It’s one of the many things I love about you.”

He only realized what he’d said when Hera went rigid next to him, shock flashing across her face. Pulling away from him a little, she stared at him. And then it hit Kanan.

He had just told Hera that he loved her for the first time.

“Ah,” he said, wincing. “That— I’m sorry. I mean, no, I’m not, but I didn’t mean to push you, and if you’re not ready for it— I just—”

Holding up a hand, Hera said, “Kanan. Stop.”

He stopped.

Hera took a deep breath, her skin darkening with a blush. “Force. This is— I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Kanan said quietly. “You don’t need to feel like you should—”

Shaking her head, Hera said, “No, not for that. I— okay, I need you to listen and not interrupt so I can explain this. It’s a little… complicated.”

Complicated was, generally speaking, not good. But Kanan just nodded. “Okay. I’ll listen.”

Gratitude crossing her face, Hera said, “Thank you.” Rubbing her forehead, she was quiet for a minute, her expression thoughtful. Finally, she said, “I don’t know how much you know about Twi’lek culture— I’m assuming not much.”

“You would be right,” Kanan said slowly. Okay, there’s definitely something I’m missing here.

Nodding, Hera said, “I thought so. Part of it— something I was taught growing up— is that saying… what you said… well, it’s more serious than it is for other cultures. Most Twi’leks at home wouldn’t tell someone that until… until they were married.”

“Oh,” Kanan said, his eyes widening.

“Yes,” Hera said. “It’s treated as something very personal, even for family members. It’s not just words, it’s the beginning of a promise. A promise for a future. And you don’t just say it, especially not out in the open—”

“Like I just did,” Kanan finished. Wincing, he said, “I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”

Shaking her head, Hera said, “It’s fine. I should have explained it to you earlier. It’s—” she let out a half-laugh, her smile more like a grimace. “There’s a lot of my home that I’ve left behind. But this is one of the things I’ve held onto, at least unconsciously. It’s what I always believed.”

Slowly, Kanan said, “Okay— that makes sense. First of all, I will absolutely respect this. If you don’t want me to say anything like that, I won’t. And Force knows you don’t have to say anything.”

But Hera was already shaking her head. “No. No, you’re— you’re fine, actually. We do technically say it, we just don’t… say it. Verbally, that is. There are a lot of parts of the Ryl language that aren’t communicated out loud, but with the lekku. Hence why there aren’t many non Twi’leks who can speak it well.”

“Makes sense,” Kanan said with a nod. “So you’re saying—”

“I’m saying that… I’m fine with it if you say it. And…” Kanan saw her blush again as she seemed to gather herself. “I feel the same way. I’m just not going to say it out loud, and I’m sorry—”

Catching hold of her hand, Kanan said, “Don’t apologize. This one’s on me— and I understand.” His mind flashed to the way she’d hugged him when they’d rescued him from the Empire. To the way her eyes glowed when she smiled at him, when she kissed him. To the fact that she’d come home, exhausted, and chosen to spend her time with him. To the way she called him “love”.

She was saying that she loved him, too, even if it wasn’t out loud.

“I won’t say it too often,” he promised her. “But I am going to say it, because Force only knows I was bad enough at disguising my feelings before. And it’s only going to get worse from here.”

Hera let out a slightly breathless laugh. “I’m okay with that.”

“Good.” Bending down, Kanan kissed her gently, holding her close for a long moment. When he finally pulled away, a slight movement caught his eye. Her lekku were twisting together behind her, in a spiral shape. He’d seen them do that before, but only now had he realized what it might mean.

“That’s what that means, doesn’t it?” he asked softly, brushing a thumb along her temple near the base of her lekku.

Her blush was answer enough, as was the small, secretive smile she gave him. Kanan made a mental note to properly learn more Ryl, and leaned in to kiss the woman he loved again.

#star wars rebels #swr #kanan jarrus #hera syndulla #kanera #the steve miller au #februfluff2024 #happy valentine's day!!#writing stories is a kind of magic too

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