Shota, the usually quiet and reserved guy, always had a soft spot for you. Despite his stoic nature, in the last months of your relationship, he had developed this special way of treating you like a princess. His princess.

That night you and Shota returned home after a damn long evening of dancing and revelry at a hero gala, an event both of you despised but occasionally had to attend. As you stepped out of the car, you winced in pain from your sore feet, protesting the glamorous – but hell painful – high-heeled shoes you wore for the occasion. In his typical dry-witted style, Shota couldn't resist a remark, "So, was the hero gala everything you expected, or do you secretly wish you wore sneakers instead of those killer heels?"

Despite your mock glare, before you could take another step, much to your genuine surprise, Shota effortlessly took you into his arms in a bridal style and started walking towards the entry door of your house, leaving soft kisses on your neck during the brief walk.