#I’ve almost cried twice already

[infernal-house-demon]

Y’all I take back any doubts and criticisms I had about the live action Avatar. I’m four episodes in and this show fuckin slaps.

[ysabelmystic]

Me when I watch the Emotional Damage show and it actually gives me emotional damage

[mer-se]

beaut 🐎 🍂

[linguenuvolose]

I am starting to realise…. that I possibly have a tendency to do more than I have the energy for…

[neondiamond]

.

[allbark-no-bite]

which lover will i get today.

elvis presley x reader (wc: 1.2 k)

summary: there were two sides to elvis presley, and you never knew which one you were going to get

warnings: toxic relationship, implied age gap (just mentioned that reader is younger)

authors note: after watching saltburn and priscilla, i can say that i’ve been converted to a jacob elordi fan. he’s a ridiculously tall freak of a man and i love him.

————————————————————————

You see him before he sees you, striding in through the front door of Graceland on those goddamn long legs that carry him twice as fast to the bottom of the stairs.

"Where's my girl?" he barks out, you being the first thing that has his attention about as soon as he enters the house. He stops at the first step, allowing you to meet him a few steps up from the bottom. For once you're just about the same height.

"Hello." You greet him, your voice quiet. It's timid, almost like you're uncertain of whether or not he's even remembered you, like maybe you've just dreamed this whole thing up and he's not really madly in love with you.

At your quietness, his aura changes, and he dims himself a little just for you. As if reminding himself that you're not one of his cousins or the Mafia. You're his girl, his Satnin. His expression becomes more pleased than exuberant, his smile faintly subdued.

"Hello," he says softly, copying your greeting with an air of teasing. Because it's so preciously innocent. Because hello is such a laughable greeting after not seeing each other for months. Because it's absurd how much he adores you.

"Hello," he then repeats, firmer this time. Because Hello, I missed you. Hello, where have you been all my life? Hello, I love you.

Elvis closes the distance between the two of you, one of his large hands pressing into your back to bring you into his chest, the other on your waist. His mouth finds yours, gentle and sweet, smiling privately into the kiss. Not really even kissing you properly because there will be plenty of more opportunities to kiss you in the future.

And he's just so charismatic that you don't even care.

But there were two sides to him.

And you never knew which one you were going to get.

That was the one thing that you kept having to remind yourself about him.

It was so easy to forget all of his faults when a majority of the time he was so utterly boyish. He still had to be reminded to pick up after himself, still had to be reprimanded for rough housing, still cried for his mama sometimes. He was fascinated by everything, and he had a new interest all of the time. First it was the books, then the guns, then the horses, then the sailing cap that he took to wearing at every opportunity.

The two of you had gone up to bed early, excusing yourself to a disgruntled Dodger back at the dinner table. You race up to Elvis' bedroom, both of you giggling like little kids as Elvis fumbles up the stairs after you.

Once inside his bedroom, you shriek when he catches you, his arms wrapping around you from behind. He lifts you off of your feet and hefts you onto the lavish spread of his bed, laughing all the while.

When you manage to sit up, brushing your hair from your face, Elvis is already turned back around, a camera in one hand and the previously mentioned captain's hat perched precariously a top his head. With the world at the tips of his fingers, everything was a game to him. He was always trying to find new ways to make life exciting, and if that meant playing dress up then he was all for it. Therefore his donning of the out of place hat came as no surprise to you.

What does surprise you is his tumbling onto the bed, and you have to duck to avoid his flailing limbs.

"C'mere," he laughs, one hand wrapping around your ankle and the other clutching the polaroid camera. He stands, dragging you towards him across the top of the bed until your hair is fanned out behind your head. Lifting the camera and squinting, he snaps a picture before you're kicking your foot from his grasp.

"Oh no you don't, lil' girl." You wheeze in laughter when he drops the camera and catches hold of your other leg, and you find yourself hanging upside down, your head just barely brushing the bed.

"O...o-kay! Okay!" You exclaim through the bubbles of laughter that escape your throat, trying and failing to hold down the bottom of your baby pink skirt. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Please, let me down!"

You tumble back onto the bed with a thunk when Elvis releases your feet from his grasp.

"You're a piece of work, Satnin. You know that?" he says with a huff, fixing the hat that had begun to fall from his head. It's to little avail because it falls off completely when you grab a pillow, swinging it at him before he can dodge it. A scoffing laugh erupts from him at your challenge, and he aimlessly shoves you away so that he can grab his own pillow.

Weak from laughing, you swing at him again, completely missing. Elvis lashes out with his pillow, and it barely catches you, giving you enough of a chance to wind up and swing at him again.

It's harder this time, as hard as a pillow can be, and you suppose it catches him off guard because the smile drops from his face and he shoves you back hard, so obviously not playing anymore. It doesn't hurt as much as it should, his hands on you, but maybe it's your own surprise that prevents you from feeling anything.

"Not so goddamn rough," he snaps, breathing hard.

You've heard him yell plenty before. At his cousins, the Colonel, his daddy, but never you. Especially not at you. It causes something sickening in the pit of your stomach that you don't like.

The shock has quickly evaporated and now you're left cowering at the end of his bed, hugging the pillow close to your chest. You don't know where they've come from but suddenly there are tears burning at your eyes. Embarrassed by his rebuke and angry at yourself for being upset, your voice cracks. "That's not fair. You can't play without winning."

"I don't wanna play with a goddamn man," he retorts, already removing himself from the bed. Elvis roughly tosses the pillow that he had been wielding onto the ground.

You see it then in his narrowed and glinting blue eyes. Not exactly anger but something else. Hurt, insecurity, fear. Then it's gone with the slam of the door.

You wait for the sound of his retreating footsteps down the stairs before you take in a shuddering breath, your chest feeling as if you hadn't been breathing the entire time, and quickly wipe at your eyes. It only made him angrier when you cried.

Certain that there's black eyeliner and mascara smeared under your eyes, you shakily stand up from the bed and go over to the bathroom mirror. There is. You look like a feral raccoon and immediately set to scrubbing it away. Once you've finished, your eyes are still glassy and your nose red, but at least you can't tell if your face is wet from the water or the tears.

The door opens behind you and then his hands are sliding around your middle, Elvis' towering figure a looming presence at your back. His head dips and his lips ghost your exposed shoulder, sponging soft, barely there kisses.

You close your eyes and you let him. This is as close to an apology that you’ll get.

It was just a moment. One moment of misjudgment. One single bad moment.

You’ll spend the rest of your life forgiving his bad moments.

[moonlinos]

Invisible string (pt. II)

♡ Pairing: Lee Minho × fem!reader

♡ Synopsis: Minho is even more determined to make you see the good in love after falling for you, while you’re too preoccupied with thinking you’re not good enough for him.

♡ Genre: A ‘lite version’ of a soulmate AU, fluff, smut, friends to lovers, pining

♡ CW: Explicit sexual content (minors dni!), hand job, fingering, like two seconds of nipple play, slut shaming, swearing

♡ Word count: 13.2k

♡ A/N: I got such a great response on the first part 🥲 thank you to everyone who left feedback. It means a lot more than you realize. I researched what to do on a trip to Japan so extensively just to write this part that I got sad I’ve never traveled there 🫠

← part I ♡ part III →

The night after you and Minho watched the light show, you stayed awake until four in the morning with your roommates as Eunha cried about her ex-boyfriend. You’ve never been the type to hope for someone’s misery, but that guy is deserving of every terrible thing that could happen to him.

After she calmed down, you fell asleep together on the couch. You only managed to check your phone in the morning, finding it thrown on your bed along with your bag. Minho’s string of messages put a smile on your face. You could use the time away from everything, even if it was only for a weekend.

You agreed to his strange invitation without thinking twice. You did, however, insist on paying for your hotel room. Chan was already being far too generous in offering you his place on a trip he had paid for.

Soon enough, two weeks flew by and the Friday of your trip finally arrived.

You’re already waiting outside of your house when Minho’s car arrives. He greets you with a hug, taking your backpack from your hands and placing it on the backseat. He opens the passenger door for you, waits until you’re settled in your seat, and only then closes the door and walks around the car. It’s something he does every time you go out together and it always makes you smile, even though it’s such a minor detail.

“You know, you’re my first friend who can drive,” you comment as he enters the car. “You shot up a lot of spots on my favorite friends’ list just by saving me from taking the bus.”

Minho chuckles. “And here I foolishly thought you liked me for my personality,” he feigns offense, shaking his head. “I actually only know how to drive because of my mom. I was moving to the countryside, and she got really worried I was gonna be stranded there, so she gave me a car when I graduated.”

You raise your brows. “You lived in the countryside?”

“Yep, I moved to Gurye right after graduating high school,” he explains simply, starting the car.

You nod slowly. Truthfully, you wanted to ask more questions but didn’t want to seem intrusive. Minho had never told you a lot about his life before starting university — the only things you know are that he has three cats back home in Gimpo and started college late for some reason. You figure he’s a private person who will hopefully open up to you once he’s ready. You couldn’t blame him either; you also desperately pretended as if your life before university didn’t exist.

As you two sit in the car, moving slowly through the awful Friday night traffic, you feel the familiar thoughts of panic overflow your mind. This trip felt almost romantic; just you and Minho in Japan for an entire weekend. You should be running away from shit like this, should be shutting him out before anything more than friendship blossoms between the two of you.

Your fingers pick on the fabric of your sheer tights, pulling and pinching apprehensively as your mind races. Because, at the end of the day, Minho is still a guy. He’s still capable of breaking your heart in the same ways it was broken before, and maybe even in new ways. He could still cheat on you, fall in love with someone else, treat you like nothing more than an object or a nuisance in his life, wake up one day and simply decide he’s had enough of you.

But he’s also Minho.

Your heart quickly countered every single reason your brain came up with on why you should run away from the situation.

How could Minho, who believes that love doesn’t allow you to hurt the person you love because it feels like you’re hurting yourself, cheat on you?

How could Minho, who told you that love makes it so that you can only see the one you love, fall in love with someone else?

How could Minho, who does stupid romance movie shit like opening car doors and pulling out chairs for you, insisting that he should walk on the street side when you’re together, reading classic novels, learning how to cook so his mom doesn’t have to, all while having three fucking cats, possibly break your heart?

Part of you hates how you have to do mental gymnastics to even consider allowing yourself to feel something more for a guy, but a bigger part knows the hurt that inevitably comes with love isn’t worth it.

You hear a soft chuckle beside you, and you lift your gaze to find Minho smiling at you as you stop at a red light.

“Is that a style thing?” He asks, gesturing toward your thighs with a nod. You furrow your brows. The light turns green, and his attention is back on the road, a grin spread across his lips. “Ripping holes in your tights. Is that a style thing?”

You look down toward your legs and grimace as you realize you had mindlessly torn two holes in your tights while overthinking. You mentally curse yourself.

“I’m cold,” you lie with an awkward giggle. “Was trying to warm myself up.”

Minho hums, stepping on the brakes as you encounter another traffic jam. He unbuckles his seat belt, turns his body toward the back seat, and retrieves his jacket before draping it over your thighs. He shoots you a small smile and turns his attention back toward the road.

The side of your brain that was against Minho and anything romantic with him just a few moments ago is completely swallowed up, dissipating as you ultimately admit to yourself that you don’t hate the prospect of this being a romantic trip as long as it’s with him.

God, you really don’t hate it one bit.

You two finally arrive at the airport just in time to board your flight with no issues. You’re not big on flying, but the flight is just a little over two hours, and Minho is such a calming presence next to you. He quietly read you some harlequin romance he picked up at the airport bookstore, and you two laughed a bit too loudly at the over-the-top plot and theatrical writing. The two of you were taken aback as the book turned out to be erotica, but hearing Minho dramatically read to you in a whisper about the hunky love interest and his manhood made you laugh until tears formed in your eyes.

After that, you two somehow end up talking about your lives back home. Minho shares how he always cooks Christmas dinner for his family, and his favorite part of the night is always the praises his grandmother throws his way. He explains that although he started cooking simply to help his mother, he found that he genuinely enjoyed it. He said he missed doing it every day, having stopped because his roommates had begun treating him as nothing more than a personal cook. You listen to his every word with a smile on your face that you can’t hide. It feels like he’s slowly opening up more to you about his life outside of university, and even something as small as this detail about his home life makes you feel closer to him.

The flight is so pleasant that you only realize you’ve landed once you see Minho unbuckling his seat belt.

You two take an Uber to the hotel, arriving in thirty minutes — you insist on paying since you’re basically here for free. You stare out the car window in awe the entire ride, Minho fondly laughing at your amazement.

As you arrive, you struggle with your backpack, pulling it out of the backseat with such force you would have fallen backward had it not been for Minho’s hands holding your shoulders. He asks if you’re okay with a chuckle, and you groan about how heavy your backpack is. Packing light wasn’t your forte.

As you two walk toward the hotel entrance, the weight on your shoulders disappears suddenly. You furrow your brows and look behind you. Minho had nonchalantly picked your backpack up by the handle and lifted it off your shoulders, carrying all the weight in his arms. You bite back a smile, murmuring a thank you. He just nods, like he hasn’t just done yet another thing you thought only happened in books written by women.

You feel that damn pinwheel return to your chest, making you feel a kind of thrill that you haven’t felt in a while. A good kind.

The hotel is relatively small, clearly on the cheap side, although it’s still quite charming. Minho mutters an apology as he catches you looking around the place.

“It was the only place I could afford being a broke college student,” He explains with a sheepish chuckle, and you shake your head.

“It’s lovely. I’m so happy to be here, I think I wouldn’t mind sleeping on the floor.”

Minho is the one who checks you in, speaking in near-perfect Japanese to the front desk clerk. You focus on the wood chipping on the table and bite the inside of your cheek as you inwardly berate yourself for finding it so damn attractive. It was different from your classes or your small study sessions. You had never truly grasped just how good Minho was until right now. You didn’t understand a word he said. All you know is that he sounded too sexy for his own good while saying it.

Minho hands you the key and tells you the room number, and you finally make your way up the stairs. He walks beside you the whole way, and you wonder if his room is on the same floor as yours or if he’s just doing this so he can hold your backpack off your shoulders.

As you reach your room on the third floor, he stops you before you can insert the key into the door.

“Before you go inside…” He trails off, pursing his lips before letting out a sigh. “I — we could only afford to pay for one room, so this is actually our room.”

Your eyes widen for a second before you nod slowly. “Oh. It’s… okay,” you assure him, although there’s very little confidence in your voice. The prospect of sharing a bed with Minho makes you nervous, but not for the reasons you thought it would.

“There are two beds! Of course,” He assures you, and you mentally slap yourself on the forehead for feeling disappointed at this information.

It’s because you’ve exclusively been having sex with Hyunjin for so long, you reason with yourself. Your hormones must be making you stupid, making you want something more with someone else who isn’t him.

Yeah, that’s it.

Minho’s your friend, after all. It wouldn’t make sense for you to want anything more with him.

It’s just your stupid hormones.

You turn the key and open the door, stepping inside the tiny room with Minho. The two beds were so close together due to the room size that they might as well be just one. The only other piece of furniture is a bedside table, which basically connects the two beds.

It’s only once you slide your backpack straps off your shoulders that Minho lets go of the handle, and you toss it on the plain white sheets of the bed to your right by the bathroom door.

Feeling a chill run through your body, you let out a groan. The heater in your room is clearly not the best.

“Tights and a skirt weren’t the right choice for this weather. This shitty heater also isn’t helping,” you grumble.

Minho chuckles behind you, and you hear the sound of the bed springs as he all but throws himself onto the bed. “Poking holes in your tights probably didn’t help either,” he jokes, and you force out a chuckle.

It seems you chose today to act like a complete idiot.

You excuse yourself to the bathroom to change into your warm sleep clothes. The first thing you notice as you walk out into the room again is Minho’s bright orange sweater with a cat knitted on the front. He’s lying down, his back resting on the wall since the beds don’t have a headboard, and the color of his sweater might be a bit offensive to the eyes, but it’s quickly forgiven once you take in the kitten adorning the fabric.

You giggle, and he looks up from his phone, his eyes meeting yours.

“Your sweater is really cute,” you tell him as you sit down in your bed, crossing your legs in an attempt to warm yourself a bit more.

Minho grins. “I know,” He says smugly, “It reminds me of two of my cats because of the color.”

“You know,” you hummed, “You never showed me any pictures of your cats.”

You watch as his eyes light up at your words. He locks his phone before quickly turning it to face you, showing you his wallpaper. Your lips stretch into a fond smile as you analyze the picture: Minho holding an orange and white cat close to his face with a grin, a butterfly filter cutely adorning his nose.

“This is Soonie, he’s the first cat I got,” He explains, turning his head so he could look at the screen as well, “I was thirteen when I adopted him, and I remember begging my parents for almost three months until they agreed. In the end, they loved him so much they allowed me to adopt another one.”

Minho unlocks his phone and opens his gallery, flipping through his pictures like it’s the most normal thing in the world. You purse your lips. It feels like you’re intruding, even though he’s the one who hasn’t moved the screen an inch. You couldn’t think of one person you’d trust enough to so freely view every single picture you had on your phone like this. Minho really was something else.

Most of his gallery is composed of blurry food pictures mixed with pages and covers of books and computer screens filled with codes. Until he reaches a point — before he started university, you assume — where the only thing you can see is pictures of cats.

He stops scrolling and clicks a picture of the same orange cat, this time wearing glasses and a hat. You snort because, of course he dresses his cats in clothes.

“Soonie is adorable,” you beam. Minho furrows his brows and shakes his head, looking at you like he’s offended.

“This is Doongie,” he states like it’s obvious, “The second cat I adopted.”

Your brows furrow as well. “Minho, that’s the same cat.”

He clicks his tongue, closing the picture and scrolling before opening another one; two orange and white cats lay together on a cat tree. Your lips fall open.

“See? This one is Soonie, he has a white nose. And this one is Doongie, his nose is orange,” He explains, and you nod, knowing full well you’d be dead if your life depended on distinguishing these two cats. “Doongie is the middle child, so he’s more temperamental.”

You stifle a giggle at him talking about his cats like they’re his children, much like you do.

He closes the picture once again and scrolls down further. His fingers hover over a picture for a couple of seconds, like he’s hesitating before he ultimately opens it. The screen fills with the image of a younger Minho smiling while holding a gray cat. His wire-frame glasses were round, unlike his current ones, and his black hair used to be shorter. The picture has clearly been cropped, only half of the cat’s body still visible.

“This is Dori. He’s the last cat I got, and he’s actually the only one I call my son.” He lets out a breathy chuckle. “I adopted him with my ex-girlfriend. She wanted a dog, but I fell in love with Dori as soon as I laid eyes on him on the website, so she had no choice but to accept him.”

You watch as he smiles at the picture and the memory. You absentmindedly fiddle with your fingers on your lap, an all too familiar ugly feeling bubbling inside you. Jealousy. Not because Minho mentioned a girlfriend — you wish it was as simple as that. Jealousy consumed you when you were forced to face the reality that people have healthy relationships, where one partner sacrifices their own desires just to please their loved one. Where you make plans to adopt a kitten together just so you can call it your son. You know damn well you were never even close to having something even remotely similar to that.

You shake the feeling off, forcing out a smile. “He’s really cute,” you tell Minho, “And he’s my favorite, ‘cause at least I can tell him apart from the other two.”

Minho chuckles, scrunching his nose as he locks his phone and rests it on his thigh.

  You two settle into bed after Minho walked you through the day he and Chan had planned for tomorrow. He had organized everything neatly in a travel planning app — from where you would be going down to an estimate of how much you would be spending. You always preferred roughly planning things out mentally whenever you traveled, mostly enjoying going with the flow.

Among all your coincidentally similar little incidents, you finally found something in which you two are complete opposites.

That should, in theory, annoy you, but you can’t help but find his meticulousness endearing. You can just picture him searching tirelessly online, crunching numbers and jotting everything down. The image is too adorable for you to be mad.

“Guess we finally found somewhere we’re different,” you mention with a smile as you tuck yourself into your sheets. Minho remains sitting on his bed, putting his glasses on their case.

He hums. “Rather than different, maybe we just complement each other in this case? You hate organizing, and I fucking love to do it, as you just saw,” he chuckles, “We’d be a great team. I plan everything, and all you have to do is show up.”

You nod with a smile, going over the places he chose in your head. You were excited for all but one: the very first one on the list, Inokashira Park.

“You know,” you start with a sigh, Minho’s eyes finding yours in the dimly lit room. “I never talk about this, but I weirdly feel like I can tell you anything. Nobody from our friend group knows this but…” you trail off, gripping the scratchy fabric of the comforter. “One of my ex-boyfriends cheated on me during a family trip to Japan when I was seventeen. I found out ‘cause the girl he hooked up with tagged him in pictures on Instagram. They were together in Inokashira Park.”

Minho hums, his eyes studying your face. After a beat of silence, he shrugs.

“We can skip that if you want to. I just—” He purses his lips, shifting on the mattress. “I just don’t think you should deprive yourself of the experience just because of a bad memory. It wouldn’t be fair to you.”

You nod, taking in his words. He was right. You were positive none of your exes ever deprived themselves of going back to places where they cheated on you, so why should you? They were the ones in the wrong, the ones who hurt and betrayed you, so why should you be the one to bear the trauma?

Minho rests his back against the wall, playing with the drawstrings of his sweatpants. “Is that why you don’t believe in love anymore? Don’t feel like you have to answer! I just… I wondered…” He faltered, a heavy sigh escaping his lips. “I wondered what could have happened to make you feel that way.”

“Well, that was just one of five times when love proved to kind of hate my guts,” you chuckle. You didn’t understand why, but the words you held back for so long were bubbling at your throat, ready to spill out. And you were willing to let them. Even if only to a certain extent, you were ready to talk about this pathetic side of your life. You would rationalize it all later. Right now, you simply wanted to talk.

“I’ve had five boyfriends in my life, and they were all terrible in some way. I know, it’s a lot of relationships considering my age.” You scrunch up your face, cringing when you voice out the number.

Minho chuckles, and you’re ready for him to agree.

“It’s really not. There’s no right or wrong number of people to date during your teenage years or your twenties.” You open your eyes to find him leaning on his side, looking at you dismissively. “Some people date more, some date less, some people don’t even date at all. Either way, it’s fine.”

Your lips open and close, then open again. You had always expected people’s reactions to be the same as the ones you heard during high school. From your classmates to your ex-boyfriends, even your friends at the time, they all seemed to be in unanimous agreement that you were at fault for having dated so much in such a brief period. You never thought that maybe people with different opinions existed. And that, maybe, those people would be the ones who you care the most about.

Thinking about it now, after hearing Minho’s words, you were certain neither Eunha nor Soojung — or any of your friends, for that matter — would ever think badly about you or shame you simply because you’ve had five boyfriends. It seemed silly even to think that way now.

It was sad how much your teenage traumas undeniably affected your perception of reality.

Minho is the one to break the silence, his soft voice pulling you away from your thoughts.

“I’m sorry that happened to you. I promise you, the memories we make on this trip will be good enough that they override this lousy one,” he vows with a small nod. “And, more than ever before, I truly hope I can change your view of love.”

You smile at his words. “I surprisingly feel my thoughts about many things changing. Love is one of them.”

“I’m glad,” he hums, finally slipping under his covers. “Y’know, love isn’t only romantic. You say you’re closed off to love, that’s really a lie,” he states matter-of-factly, a smug grin spreading across his lips. You bite back a smile and raise your eyebrows at him. He continues, “The love you feel for your family and your friends, platonic love, that’s also love. I’ve been around you long enough to know just how much you love your friends.”

To say you loved your friends almost didn’t seem sufficient. After graduating high school, you left behind all the judgmental and toxic friends you had. You are immensely grateful to have found such good people at university. Eunha and Soojung were the housemates of your dreams, the three of you so different that it truthfully shouldn’t work, but it simply did. Hyunjin becoming your best friend was also a surprise; he was younger than you, and you had never been friends with a guy before — in part thanks to your jealous boyfriends — but he carved out a space for himself in your life and refused to leave. And you were so thankful for that.

And then there was Minho, who had come out of the blue into your life and just as suddenly became such an important person to you. From the way you two first met to your little similarities and how well you got along in such a short time, it was as if fate pulled you toward him.

You smile.

“I do love them,” you tell him, fiddling with your fingers under the white comforter. “And I love you, too, Minho. You’re my friend, after all. In a way, you’re already succeeding in changing my view of love just by being you.”

Minho’s eyes blink rapidly as he looks at you, his parted lips making him look like a confused child before they close. He hums, nodding as a small smile spreads on his lips, which quickly grows bigger and bigger until he’s basically giggling. He hides his face behind his hand, clearing his throat. You feel warmth spread across your chest at the sight. You’re sure if the lights were brighter, you’d be able to see his ears turning red.

You shake your head with a chuckle. The mood has suddenly become a bit too emotional, and you still find yourself running away from these things. However, you were proud of your progress tonight. Talking about love and your past — especially regarding your ex-boyfriends — was already a huge step for you.

You hope Minho knows he’s part of the reason you’re able to take this step in the first place.

“Okay, your turn.” You sit up on the bed, the white comforter pooling on your lap. “I’m curious too, y’know. You’re such a love enthusiast,” you tease him with a grin, earning you a chuckle from Minho, who throws his head back. “Tell me about your romantic experiences.”

He mirrors you and sits up on his bed. “Experience. I’ve only had one girlfriend,” he corrects you, “We met on the first day of high school and began dating the year after that, when we were sixteen. We were together until I was just about to turn twenty-one, so…” he trails off with a deep sigh. “Yeah, it was quite the long first relationship.”

“My five relationships combined didn’t last as long as that.” You click your tongue, and Minho lets out a breathy laugh. “Why did you two break up after being together for so long?” You blurt out before you can process the words inside your head. Annoyed with your own self, you scrunch up your face. You really chose today to be an idiot. “If that’s okay for me to ask! Sorry for being nosy, I’m just— I guess I’m curious.”

Minho smiles at you, a fond smile he always shoots your way whenever you are word-vomiting. Much like your other friends, he had quickly adapted to your habit of spilling out words before thinking about them.

“It’s a bit of a long story. Basically, she wanted a quiet and simple life in the countryside, so I did that for her,” he explains, shrugging dismissively. So that was the reason he had moved to Gurye after finishing school. “I began saving up money at eighteen with my job at the convenience store while she gave piano lessons to the kids in our neighborhood, and we moved on her twentieth birthday. I figured I could just do programming jobs from home, anyway, so I completely gave up on my plans to attend university…” Minho trails off, his voice all but a whisper at the end of the sentence. He shakes his head, a bitter chuckle leaving his lips as he continues, “I kind of wanna kick myself in the face for that now. It fucking sucks to have started university so late, but it was my own decision. I guess you say stupid shit when you’re nervous, and I do stupid shit when I’m in love.”

You had never met someone who would abandon so much of themselves for the person they loved. It made Minho even more admirable to you. However, even though it was his own decision, he clearly came to regret it. People often say love is all about compromises, and you couldn’t help but feel like Minho had been the only one to give up anything in this scenario.

“Were your parents okay with you two making such a drastic move?” You question, your curiosity bubbling inside your chest.

Minho scoffs. “Of course they weren’t. Especially my dad. But we were nearing our twenties, so there wasn’t much they could do to stop us.”

He drums his fingers on his thighs, and you wonder if this subject brought back sour memories — or maybe even good ones he just didn’t like remembering because they had become part of the past. You want to tell him it’s okay if he doesn’t want to talk about it any longer, but he’s continuing his story before you can speak.

“We adopted Dori and left a week later. We were pretty much broke. All we could afford was a small cottage that hadn’t been renovated in over a decade, but we were happy,” Minho’s voice is soft as he speaks, a smile forming on his lips as he stares ahead, almost as if he’s reliving those moments in his head. “We talked about growing old together and raising our kids in that cottage. And we — god, looking back, this was so stupid it’s fucking funny,” He chuckled, shaking his head and raising his gaze to meet yours. “We were actually trying to get pregnant. We barely had money to feed Dori and ourselves, yet it still crushed us every time that test read negative.”

You feel your expression change, a blend of astonishment and admiration washing over you. They must’ve truly been in love. You felt a slight pang of hurt and envy run through your body; it truly was so easy for other people when it came to love.

“I’m sorry it didn’t work out,” you lament, although you’re not sure if you’re talking about the pregnancy or the entire relationship.

Minho shakes his head, scrunching his nose. “Don’t feel bad, it was a blessing in disguise. I can’t imagine how the fuck we would ever manage to raise a baby at that time.”

“It seems like you two had the perfect relationship.” You force out a smile, waging war against your bitter jealousy.

“It was perfect, until it wasn’t,” Minho shrugs dismissively, “We began to fight a lot after a while. Haneul would always get upset at me for not doing things the way she thought I should do them, down to replying in a way that didn’t fit with what she had hoped I would say. And I was the same, always getting frustrated when she disagreed with me, even if it was about something silly like what to have for dinner. We used to be able to talk it out and come to an agreement in the past — it wasn’t for nothing that we were together for so long — but being in that little cottage, just us two all the time, it became suffocating.”

“Is that why you two broke up?”

Minho nods. “We realized we were merely playing house. Neither of us was happy anymore,” he explains, a soft laugh escaping his lips. “It was like we each had a script inside our heads of what the other should say or how they should act. It wasn’t healthy anymore, so we mutually decided to end things before they got worse.”

Your fingers fiddle with a loose thread on the white cover. You had always been envious of this type of relationship, but you never thought to think about the fact that they can also come to an end. It always seemed to you that your relationships never worked because they weren’t perfect, like the relationships you saw in books or movies — like the one Minho had described with his ex-girlfriend.

You never once rationalized that even perfect things can ebb away. That nothing lasts forever, even if it seems utterly ideal.

“I know how terrible breakups are,” you tell him. “I can only imagine how much worse it must’ve been to you two after so many years together.”

Minho shakes his head with a smile. “I never really felt hurt by it. It was such a perfect breakup she even let me keep Dori without going through a custody battle,” he jokes, raising his eyebrows at you.

“How can it not have hurt you?” You let out an incredulous laugh. “You were in love, planning to start a family, and you tell me it didn’t hurt when it ended? That’s bullshit, Minho.”

He looks up at the ceiling, like he’s trying to find the words to explain to you. He hums. “Well, I loved Haneul. I loved her so very much, with every fiber of my being. She was my first love. My mom once said we were probably a couple in another life as well, and I fucking loved that,” He chuckles, “The idea that someone was destined for me and I was destined for them, that we were fated to find each other and be together across lifetimes.”

“Like soulmates?” You ask.

He nods. “Soulmates, yes. That’s what we were. And, after we broke up, I realized maybe people’s understanding of soulmates is wrong. At least to me,” He shrugs.

You let out a chuckle. He really turned a terrible situation into a chance to reevaluate his beliefs. It was the most Minho thing you had ever heard.

“How are people understanding it wrong, then?” You question him, resting your chin on the palm of your hand and looking at him. Minho mirrors your actions, a grin etched onto his lips. 

“Well, for starters, you can have many soulmates in one lifetime.” You furrow your brows, opening your mouth to ask him more questions, but he quickly adds, “For example, Haneul was my soulmate and there’s no doubt about it in my mind. But it ended, because it was time for it to end. I learned everything I had to learn with her, and she did the same. We couldn’t grow together anymore, so there was no point in staying together.”

Biting your lip, you nod. “I never thought of it that way. You ask anyone and they’ll tell you that a soulmate is unique.”

“It may be so to some people, but I find that way of thinking a bit unfair,” he shrugs. “Haneul found someone new. Wouldn’t it be unfair for me to say her new relationship is inferior to ours simply because we were soulmates? We were soulmates, but our time to be together has passed and she’s with the soulmate she’s supposed to be right now.”

You hum, tapping your fingers against your cheek. “I guess it does make sense.”

He shrugs, feigning smugness. “I am quite the smart man.”

“What about you?” You question, smiling at him, “Have you ever found a new soulmate after that relationship?”

Minho clears his throat, his gaze shifting to look at where his sock-clad feet poked out from underneath the comforter. You could swear you see a tiny smile on his lips.

“I think I did,” He answers with a questioning lilt. “There were some signs, and a lot of things that aligned.” His gaze lifts once more to meet your eyes as he continues, “Makes me think maybe I’ve found her.”

As you take in his words, jealousy rears its ugly head, the feeling almost swallowing you whole. You gnaw on your bottom lip. The way Minho made you feel at times was questionable at best, but you chalk it all up to your jealous nature. You’d always gotten jealous when your friends found new friendships or when they started relationships.

However, that feeling was a bit different from the one currently making you want to bite your lip until it bled out of sheer and petty jealousy.

You let out a heavy sigh, pushing all those thoughts into a neat little box inside your head and locking them up.

“You’re really lucky,” you tell him, and Minho cocks an eyebrow. “That’s why you think love can only be good, because your only experience with it was long-lasting and good until the very end. I’d much rather have love fizzle out than have it end in a way that ended me as well. That’s how it’s always been with me, and I guess that’s why I came to hate love a little bit.”

Minho smiles at you, a genuine smile that reaches his brown eyes. “Well, sometimes love lasts forever,” he asserts, “So you shouldn’t think about how it’s going to end.”

You can feel the pinwheel inside your chest spinning, causing your heart to skip a beat and your cheeks to blush pink. Forcing out a chuckle, you lie on your bed and pull the covers up to your nose.

“You’re back to your hopeless romantic ways.”

“I never stopped,” He corrects you. He lies down as well, facing you, his hand reaching out to turn off the lamp that sat on the bedside table. “Even when I thought you had a boyfriend,” Minho continues, “I was still able to be a hopeless romantic.”

You feel your eyes widen at his words, thanking the darkness that covers you both as confusion and shock swim in your eyes. Did Minho subtly admit he liked you? Were you reading too much into things? Why did this not scare you? It should scare you, should make you terrified, as this is the very thing you’ve been running away from.

You were probably over-analyzing his words.

But why did you hope that wasn’t the case?

The two of you wake up early, hitting the streets of Tokyo immediately after getting dressed. Minho’s list definitely made things easier, with you two hopping from place to place before crossing them out one by one on his phone. Your favorite so far had been the cat café you two went to for breakfast, where you spent the entire hour watching Minho petting and playing with the kittens, the smile on your lips so fond that it probably made you look stupid.

But as you walk around Inokashira Park, that quickly drops to second place on your mental list. It was a beautiful place, especially in the late afternoon sun. As soon as you arrived, Minho took your hand in his without a word. It was unexpected, to say the least, but you were even more surprised to find yourself liking the gesture. You squeezed his hand, smiling at him, before lacing your fingers together.

Your heart was racing so fast you were certain that damn pinwheel brought along a friend today.

After walking around for a bit, Minho abruptly stopped, letting go of your hand and moving to stand behind you. You furrowed your brows as his hands came to cover your eyes. With his lips incredibly close to your ears, he whispered, “I have a surprise. It’s a place that wasn’t on the list. A museum I think you’ll like.”

You felt goosebumps rise all over your body at the sound of his low voice coupled with his breath tickling your skin. You silently thanked the cold weather — had you not been wearing long sleeves, Minho would have seen the effect he had on you, and you would’ve had no other choice but to throw yourself in front of a taxi on the way back to the hotel.

The two of you waddled awkwardly, Minho still standing behind you with his hands over your eyes. He giggled the whole way to your destination. You were too immersed in not focusing on how his body brushed up against yours with every step you took to even think about laughing.

His broad chest so warm against your back, his arms wrapped around you, his lips grazing your neck once as he bent down to whisper something about the museum being just around the corner, and his lower body continuously brushing and rubbing against your ass as you two walked. You had to fight the urge to push your body against his every time that happened, wondering if that would be enough to get him hard.

After Minho’s supposed confession last night, your mind had truly thrown every bit of worry and shame you felt about being attracted to him out the window.

It felt almost liberating, being able to say fuck it and simply feel.

So you were attracted to Minho; why should it be a big deal? You shouldn't deprive yourself of these silly experiences just because love scares you.

Maybe being scared was okay sometimes. Maybe it was worth it for the right people.

Just as your mind was running wild with thoughts of Minho’s body pressed up against yours, his voice whispered in your ear again. You had arrived, he announced, removing his hands from your eyes.

As your eyes adjusted to the light, you made out the words on a wooden sign before you. Minho had taken you to the Ghibli Museum. Before you could stop yourself, you were throwing your arms around his neck with a gasp.

You could just kiss him at that moment. That was how happy you were.

After walking around the museum with a smile engraved onto your lips, your cheeks hurt in the best way possible. Minho hurried you as you looked through the overly expensive gift shop, reminding you that the swan paddle boats would be closing soon. You whined but ultimately had no choice but to leave the shop as he grabbed your hand and pulled you toward the exit. Mourning the loss of a Soot Sprite plush perfect for your collection, you grumbled to Minho about how he had no heart as you two ran across the park.

You made it just in time, being the last ones in line on the pier. Minho insisted on paying for your tickets, and you agreed only after he explained it would be your compensation for the loss of your precious plushie.

And now you sit beside him on a swan paddle boat, failing miserably at containing your giggles as Minho adjusts his life jacket.

“You know,” He starts with a dramatic sigh, “You’re not gonna be laughing if we crash and you drown.”

You poke his arm, making him look at you just as a smile spreads across his lips. “I’m only laughing ‘cause you look real cute.”

You begin to paddle, and it is surprisingly easy — especially because Minho is the one guiding the boat with a steering wheel. The scenery is quite dull because of the cold season, with most trees already bare of leaves and the sky a blend of pale blue and white.

“I wish it was spring,” Minho speaks beside you as if he’s read your thoughts. “The cherry blossoms are fucking gorgeous.”

You look over at him, his eyes fixed ahead as he steers the boat around the pond. His glasses reflect the pale sky and obscure his eyes, but you’re sure he’s blinking rapidly like he usually does whenever he’s focused.

“Did you come here with your ex-girlfriend in spring?” You blurt out.

Minho’s lips stretch into a grin as he turns to face you.

“No,” he answers simply. “But I want to come with you.”

It’s only then you realize he had been doing most of the work paddling, as he easily controls the speed at which the boat glides across the water, slowing down until you two are stopped at the edge of the pond.

Your mind races, but not as hard as your heart does.

“With me?”

“With you.”

His eyes are fixed on yours, and his left hand grips the steering wheel tightly. You part your lips, but only silence is stuck in your throat. Drawing yourself out of the impromptu staring contest the two of you had gotten into, your eyes shift down to stare at your purse which lay across your lap.

You softly utter the only two words your mind can conjure up. “Why me?”

“Because I like you,” Minho’s voice is also quiet. You hear him shuffling beside you, turning his body so he fully faces you. “I know you’re scared, and you feel like you’re protecting yourself, but I’m—” He cuts himself off abruptly, and your eyes shoot up to find him biting his lip, his brows furrowed. He lets out a sigh. “I like you so much I think I might implode if I do nothing about it.”

Your breath hitched audibly. There is still a part of you that’s screaming out run away, this is terrifying, you’re on your way to another heart-wrenching breakup — but that part has become so minuscule, so insignificant now, it feels like nothing but muffled background noise inside your head. Because a much bigger part of you is begging for you to just say, “Then do something about it.”

And he does.

Minho’s hand leaves the wheel and gingerly touches your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin before he closes the distance between you. It isn’t the first time you kiss Minho, but it is certainly the first time your entire being is fully enveloped in only him; from the way his slightly chapped lips still felt so soft against your own to how his strong hand finds your waist and pulls you closer to him.

And his taste. Minho coaxes your mouth open with his tongue and licks into it, your senses being taken over by the taste of the watermelon candy he’d been eating all day until you’re positively drunk on him. Your heart racing and your hands shaking like a teenager having their first kiss.

You go to grab his shirt, desperate to pull him even closer to you, but your hands collide with the damn life jacket he’s wearing. You whine into the kiss, annoyed, and Minho only chuckles against your lips. He bites your lower lip, pulling softly before releasing it and pressing another kiss to your pout.

“I take back what I said, the life jacket isn’t cute,” you mumble against his lips. His smile grows, and his lips crash against yours again, his hands tangling in your hair.

He groans into the kiss, barely pulling away before whispering, “Don’t wanna stop kissing you.”

You hum. “Well, you can kiss me anytime now.”

Minho’s lips spread into a grin, and he closes the small distance between you for one last kiss before he pulls away, your noses brushing. His eyes are dark yet soft, as if longing and affection had melted together.

“I want to be with you,” He says, “But I want you to think about it before you say anything because I know how scared you are of love. And if by the end of our trip I haven’t given you enough reasons to give me a chance, I’ll let you go and move on with my life. If you want to stay friends, I’ll happily do that. And if you never want to see me again, I’ll also respect that.”

Your heart swells with his words because Minho is the complete antithesis of everything your ex-boyfriends taught you that men were.

And, for the first time in so long, you feel the kind of nervousness that’s nothing but good. The kind that leaves you with trembling hands, a racing heart, and a dizzy head. The kind that only love can provide.

Despite his request, you’re eager to answer him right then and there, but just as you’re about to speak, the sky roars and dark clouds gather above. You jump in your seat at the sound, and Minho’s hands instinctively wrap around your shoulders and squeeze. You smile, simply nodding your head and giving his lips a small kiss.

Minho struggles a bit, but he’s eventually able to turn the paddle boat around, and you two begin to paddle back toward the pier. The light rain quickly becomes heavy raindrops drumming on the roof of the boat, and you dread the walk back to the hotel as neither of you thought to bring an umbrella.

“Y'know,” Minho starts. “There’s a myth here in Japan that says if you ride this boat with a girlfriend, then you’ll break up soon. I kinda always believed that.”

You let out a chuckle. “Really?”

He hums, nodding his head. “So I’m choosing to also believe that if you ride it with someone you like, they will become your girlfriend soon.”

Minho turns to look at you with a smile as you stop at the pier, removing his life jacket and exiting the boat without another word. You bite the inside of your cheek in a failed attempt at holding back a smile. Minho helps you out of the boat, his hand taking yours and pulling you toward him gently.

You two run back to the hotel, Minho holding you close to him with his hand around your waist. The streets are mostly empty as people squeeze under bus stops and shop awnings to shelter from the rain, and it almost feels like you and Minho are the only people in Tokyo that night.

You two giggle the whole way to the hotel. Even when you are struck with the realization that the power has shut off on the entire street upon arriving, you simply turn to each other and laugh even more.

You clumsily manage to take a brief shower in the darkness, changing into your sleep clothes as quickly as you can. You realize with a grimace that if your room was cold before, with the shitty hotel heater on, it’s basically turned into an icebox now.

Wrapping yourself up in your comforter, you shiver with a groan just as Minho walks out of the bathroom.

“Bet you miss that shitty heater now, huh?” He jokes, and you faintly make out his silhouette in the dim light of the moon coming from the window.

You let out another groan. “I'm gonna freeze to death tonight. I've made peace with that. Thaw me with a hairdryer in the morning, please.”

Minho chuckles, sitting on his bed as he checks his phone. You make out his features in the moonlight coming from the window, and he’s wearing another sweater, black with more cats printed on it.

Such a cozy, warm-looking sweater. You curse yourself inwardly for only packing t-shirts to sleep.

As he locks his phone, an idea hits you, and your words are faster than your thoughts — as they always seem to be whenever you’re around Minho.

“Can I lay with you for a bit?” You ask, “Just for a bit, until I get warm? My bed is right under this damn window, and I don’t have any sweaters I can sleep in, and I know I joked about making peace with freezing but—”

Minho cuts you off by calling out your name with a chuckle. “It's okay. You don’t need to make up a thousand excuses. I'm cold, too,” He says simply, scooting to the side to make room for you in his bed. “Come here.”

You smile, ripping the covers from your body quickly like a band-aid and all but jumping from your mattress to his. Minho instructs you to lie on the left side of the bed, facing the wall. You furrow your brows.

“Why?”

He shrugs. “It’s like the sidewalk thing. So I can protect you if a serial killer comes into our room.”

“Oh, so a serial killer’s gonna come into our room?” You ask, a teasing lilt in your voice as you scoot on the bed and slip under the comforter. 

“Well, I—” Minho stammers, pausing with a sigh. He removes his glasses and places them on the bedside table before he continues, “I don’t know, okay? I just… wanna take care of you in every way possible. Even in this weird scenario that my mind made up.”

His words slip out of his lips quickly, much like yours do when you’re nervous and can’t make yourself stop talking. You wonder if your habit is rubbing off on him, and you can’t help but smile.

As Minho settles into bed, you feel your body stiffen up. The two of you lay on your backs next to each other in the cramped bed, and you feel like you can’t move. Hyunjin was the first guy you ever slept next to, and even then, it was after you two had already had sex, so there was no room for feeling awkward. With Minho, everything feels so new. If kissing him had made your hands shake, laying next to him makes your whole body tremble.

You lay like that for a while, watching as the thunder lights up the ceiling until Minho turns to lie on his side.

“Wouldn’t we get warmer if we cuddled?” He trails off in a whisper, clearing his throat after his words leave his mouth. 

You open your mouth to answer but know you’ll only end up word-vomiting again with how nervous you feel, so you simply nod, turning so you’re facing Minho as well.

His arms quickly find your waist, pulling you closer to him until your noses are touching, and you feel his breath on your lips as he lets out a sigh. Before you can make sense of what’s happening, Minho presses a slow, open-mouthed kiss to your lips, making your mind go hazy. You two stare at each other for a beat, your lips agape and eyes wandering through each other’s features until he breaks the silence.

“You make me nervous,” he whispers, taking your hand and guiding it towards his chest. You feel his heart beating quickly through the thick fabric of his sweater. “In the best way possible.”

You smile, whispering back, “You make me nervous, too.”

Clutching at the fabric of his sweater, you pull him closer to you, slotting your lips together once more. Minho’s hands hesitate, his left hand barely touching your back before he changes his mind and grazes your shoulder with his touch, only to settle for cupping your cheek. You smile into the kiss, taking his hand and placing it firmly on your waist. He grips the fabric of your shirt just as you did and brings your body flush against his.

The kiss is hurried, as if you two will be forced apart tomorrow and this is your only chance to feel each other. Minho licks the seam of your lips, his tongue slipping into your mouth as you gasp. His firm grip on your waist, his body pressed against yours so tightly that you can feel his heartbeat thumping against your chest, and how with every stroke of his tongue, he devours you almost greedily — it’s downright impossible to keep the whine that forms in your throat from slipping out, Minho’s mouth swallowing the muffled sound.

And then he’s pulling away, and you’re left chasing his lips. He lets out a breathy chuckle at that.

“Let’s go to sleep, hm?” He suggests, his voice breathless. You can’t help but wonder if you practically moaning while simply kissing him had made him uncomfortable, and you inwardly berate yourself, mortification washing over you.

So you only nod, turning to face the wall so you can properly cuddle this time. Minho wraps an arm around your waist, and you wait for him to pull you closer, but he never does. You furrow your brows. Was it that bad? You can’t be faulted for reacting like you did, especially with how he kissed you. So you take it into your own hands to shift closer to his body. Your lips part as you feel his hard member pressing against your lower back.

Oh. 

So that’s what’s going on.

You bite back a grin, feeling Minho tense up behind you.

“And here I thought you were like a romantic lead in a PG-13 anime,” you joke, smiling as he chuckles, clearly more at ease. 

He uses the hand that had been resting against your stomach to pull you even closer to him, pressing his body against yours. “I am romantic,” He whispers, lips close to your ear. You only then realize he’s hovering over you. “But I’m still human.”

You fight back the urge to shudder at how his voice drops an octave, all low and soft, and, god, how his breath grazes your neck.

You search your brain for something to say but come up empty. Being nervous has rendered you speechless for the first time in your life.

“Let’s sleep now, okay?” Minho presses a quick kiss on your cheek. “I’ll lie far—”

“I can help you,” you blurt out, turning to face him. Going to sleep is the last thing you want right now. “If you want.”

His eyes wander across your face as he pulls on his bottom lip. “I don’t want to rush things.”

“There are ways to do this that aren’t… rushing.”

Minho hums, but his eyes are now fixed on your lips. You move to lie on your back, and he slowly climbs on top of you.

“As long as it’s okay with you, I don’t care what we do,” he whispers. You smile, pushing his black hair away from his face with your fingers.

“It’s more than okay with me,” You answer simply, using your hand on his hair to guide him down into yet another kiss. 

You can feel him still hesitating, so you grab a fistful of that silly sweater of his and pull him closer to you until your bodies are flush against each other.

“Can I touch you?” You ask, breaking the kiss. Minho nods hastily.

“Yes, please,” he groans, “I’m gonna die if you don’t.”

With a breathy chuckle, you move your hand between your two bodies, cupping him through his sweatpants; he’s even harder now, and you subconsciously bite your lip. He closes his eyes, his left hand resting on your waist before squeezing lightly as he hides his face in the crook of your neck with a shaky sigh. It might simply be because it’s your first time being intimate together, but Minho’s timidness is genuinely endearing to you.

Your palm grinds against him gingerly, and his body trembles under your touch. His hand travels from your waist toward your lower stomach, and you let out a quiet gasp as his fingers toy with the hem of your shirt. He lifts his head off your neck, his face so close to yours you can feel his unsteady breathing on your lips.

“Can I touch you, too?” He whispers, and you nod a bit too eagerly. 

“If you don’t, I think I’ll die too.”

Minho grins, his head dipping lower until his lips are pressed against yours, but he doesn’t kiss you. You’d be lying if you said finding Minho so hard after only kissing you hadn’t turned you on — kissing him alone also made you more aroused than you were willing to admit. But you were more than ready to go to sleep without doing anything about it after offering to help him, so the fact that he wants to do the same for you makes your head spin. This was not on your bingo card of things that could happen during this trip.

He pulls your shirt up slightly, only enough for him to slip his hand inside your sweatpants. He hesitates twice before cupping you through your underwear. His dark eyes meet yours, whispering against your lips, “You’re fucking soaking through your panties, and you weren’t gonna tell me?”

You gasp at his words, clenching around nothing. Wasn’t he shy just two minutes ago? Your mouth opens to answer him, but your brain is far too cloudy to form any coherent sentence, so you settle on a nod. He hums, pressing a kiss to your agape lips.

Once you feel his thumb tentatively brush against your clit through the thin fabric, you find the courage to slip your hand inside the waistband of his sweatpants, your fingers immediately brushing against his member. Minho shudders at the touch, his eyes still fixed on yours.

Your brows shoot up at the fact that he had foregone wearing boxers, and he chuckles lightly at your reaction.

“I never wear underwear to bed, so don’t think I was trying to seduce you,” he jokes.

“Too late,” you hum, “I was seduced the moment I saw your bright orange cat sweater.”

Minho grins, sucking your lower lip as he pushes your panties to the side painfully slowly, his middle finger gliding from your entrance toward your clit and spreading your arousal. With a sigh, you bring one leg to wrap around his waist, and he adjusts himself so he’s properly hovering over you. You take this opportunity to slide his sweatpants down his hips, his hard cock finally free from its confines. He groans low in his throat, his tongue suddenly licking into your open mouth as his right hand intertwines with your left, your fingers locking together. He presses your clasped hands onto the mattress beside your head.

Your hand now glides through his length, the palm of your hand beginning to rub at the head of his cock and Minho sucks in a breath, breaking the kiss, his eyes remaining closed. Pressing your thumb to the slit, you gather as much precum as you can and spread it through his member. You quickly find that it’s not enough, wanting it wetter and messier and—

Minho whines as you stop touching him, eyes shooting open. Bringing your hand to your lips, you lick a stripe on your palm and let a glob of spit fall on it before finding his cock again, wet both with your saliva and his precum as you begin to stroke him gingerly. With a quiet moan, Minho’s hips buck up at the touch and he kisses your lips again. You giggle into the kiss, inwardly thanking Hyunjin for teaching you that guys love sloppy shit like this and, in turn, making you realize you do too.

You avert your eyes from his intense gaze as his finger moves to find your entrance, pushing in slowly before moving at a steady pace.

He squeezes your hand. “Look at me,” his voice is all but a whisper, low and hurried. You turn to lock your eyes on his once more, immediately biting your lips to stop a moan from slipping out of your lips as his thumb begins to rub your clit in circular motions, and he slips another finger inside of your aching cunt. It was getting increasingly difficult to keep yourself from vocally begging him not to stop.

You focus on your own hand as you stroke his cock, your steady pace gradually quickening. Minho’s pace mirrors yours, and soon the small room fills with the noise of his finger swiftly pumping in and out of you mixed with the sound of your hand stroking him.

“What do you like?” Minho asks suddenly, his breath hitching as you tighten your fist around his cock. Your mind is far too clouded by desire and pleasure to fully comprehend, so you hum, your brows furrowing. He leans in, pressing his forehead against yours with a quiet moan and curling his fingers inside you, causing your eyes to shut tightly and a whimper to escape your closed lips. “Look at me, baby,” he repeats himself, his voice firm and his shy demeanor having completely shifted. You slowly open your eyes. “What do you like? I — fuck,” He curses as your hand twists on the head of his cock. “Wanna make you feel good, tell me.”

You’re definitely not used to being vocal about what you want or like during sex; your ex-boyfriends always too selfish, and Hyunjin too confident for you to even have had the opportunity to do so. Coupled with just how good you felt, you know you won’t possibly be able to speak a word without moaning the way you’re trying so hard to avoid. You settle for guiding his hand, which was tangled in yours, under your shirt. Minho immediately massages your breast, his thumb caressing your nipple as his eyes find yours once more.

You feel as if his gaze is setting you ablaze, his eyes boring into you. It felt as if all his desire was accumulated in his dark eyes, clearly visible in how he watches you like he’s drinking in every last drop of you through his stare. You’ve never had someone look at you like this before; it makes you feel so wanted, so desired, as if the only thing Minho could ever need in this moment is you. That alone makes your body tremble, your left hand holding onto his shoulder for purchase as you feel you might float away at any second.

If you were told a couple of hours ago that something as simple as having Minho’s fingers inside you would have you so euphoric, you most definitely would have laughed.

Minho groans into your open mouth, his breathing heavy and his brows drawn together tightly. You force your lips shut once more as his thumb rubs your bundle of nerves more hastily. Your hand leaves his shoulder to tangle in his black hair, futilely attempting to tug him even closer to you before you kiss his agape lips that spill out groans and sighs like a mantra.

It’s almost all-consuming. His fingers inside of you, the warmth of his hand on your breast, his cock pulsating beneath your touch, his hot breaths that fill your lungs as he sighs into your kiss, and his eyes — his damn eyes that look at you as if he wants to eat you whole.

You finally allow yourself to moan as you feel your orgasm building up, whimpering his name against his lips as your strokes on his cock turn messy and desperate among the copious amounts of precum. Minho growls, pulling your hand from his hair — his grip on your wrist so firm it stings a little — before he pins you down to the mattress, fingers messily intertwining with yours again.

This time, you’re unable to restrain your whimper at his actions; Minho had always been gentle and sweet, something as simple as him pinning you down to the bed has you clenching around his fingers. This duality of his you just discovered is something that stirs up curiosity inside of you.

“I’m gonna come,” He announces with a sigh, his hand squeezing yours. You can only nod as you melt around his fingers, your whole body trembling. Minho soon follows, his cum spilling into your hand and your shirt, a low guttural sound leaving his throat.

His eyes only leave yours as he leans down to connect your lips again, giving you small kisses before a stifled laugh escapes him. You furrow your brows, and Minho grins.

“Sorry for getting your shirt dirty,” He mumbles against your lips, the two of you unwilling to move for the time being.

You shake your head with a chuckle. Although you cringe slightly as you feel the fabric of your shirt stick to your stomach.

“It’s okay.”

Minho shifts on top of you, and you only then realize his fingers remain inside of you. Your body jolts faintly at the stimulation, his name falling from your lips in the form of a whine. He grins at you again, all lopsided and handsome, before bringing his hand to his lips. You watch with agape lips as his tongue flicks out to lap at his fingers before sucking on them with a hum, his eyes locked onto yours once more.

Once again with this newfound duality of his. He’s pure romance and gentlemanly behavior, but seemingly so alluring and shameless in bed. The way he looks at you alone makes you clench around nothing as if you didn’t come mere minutes ago. And it’s such a simple act — you can’t count on one hand the number of times you watched as Hyunjin licked his fingers clean after being inside of you — but the contrast of his calm and endearing everyday personality and him suddenly pinning you to the bed or licking your cum off his fingers while looking into your eyes makes this entirely different.

You would’ve never expected this from Minho, and it makes your brain stir up with thoughts of what he would be like while eating you out or while fucking you. Would he pin you to the bed again or pull your hair, or maybe—

The sound of him clearing his throat interrupts you from your thoughts, and you only now realize you had been staring at the ceiling while fantasizing about Minho fucking you. Great.

Once your eyes meet, he’s quick to avert his gaze. “I will, uh, pay to wash your shirt when we — when we get back,” Minho stumbles over his words, his eyes now fixed on your shoulder. “If you want. But, like, I got it dirty, so…” He trails off, and you purse your lips to muffle the giggle that bubbled up your throat as it seems all the confidence he had only minutes ago had dissipated into dust and left his body.

He was back to his usual self. You can’t help but smile as you realize you adore any version of Minho.

He pushes himself off of you, muttering that he’ll be back before disappearing into the small bathroom. You remove your soiled shirt, wiping your hand on it, only to blanche at the sight of the logo printed on the fabric. It’s one of Hyunjin’s shirts that you had stolen ages ago. You mumble a string of apologies to him as you pull the covers off your body. After discarding it on your bed, you change into the first t-shirt you fish out of your backpack, worried Minho might come into the room and see your naked chest — as ludicrous as that was, seeing as he was knuckles deep inside of you less than twenty minutes ago.

Minho returns to the bedroom just as you’re closing the zipper on your bag. He silently takes your hand in his and wipes it with a towel, his head lowered as his eyes focus on his actions. You let out a breathy chuckle.

“There’s really nothing there anymore,” you inform him. “I wiped most of your cum on my shirt.” You nod toward the crumpled-up fabric thrown across the bed. Minho’s mouth opens, then closes, then opens again. He lets out a small noise, nodding his head slowly before ultimately pressing his lips together. Under the faint moonlight that lights up the room, you almost miss how his cheeks dust a shade of pink. You smile, pressing a kiss to his nose. Minho hums, smiling back at you and dropping the towel on top of your shirt.

Soon, you find yourself back in bed with him, Minho pulling you into his chest, his hands now offering you pleasure by gingerly massaging your scalp. You are almost asleep — listening to his heartbeat through his sweater, smiling at the soft snores that escape his parted lips — when it dawned on you.

You notice just how different being with Minho had been. How kissing him alone made your hands shake, how even without being fully intimate, the way you felt with him tonight was incomparable.

Minho’s words from months ago about how sex with someone you love eclipses the feeling of sex with any other person linger in your memory. You hum, a smile on your lips as your eyes flutter closed again.

Before they shoot open.

Because holy shit.

If it felt that way with Minho, it can only mean you’ve fallen for him.

Awakening to the sound of the heater’s soft hum, you feel Minho’s arm tightly around your waist, keeping your body pressed against his. His gentle breathing brushes against the nape of your neck, and you cautiously turn your head, careful not to wake him, only to be greeted by his tender eyes already gazing at you with a soft smile. Cuddling with Minho is another thing that feels different. You feel safe, adored from how he holds you to the way his eyes look at you.

As he realizes you’re also awake, he suddenly turns to lie on his back, staring at the ceiling as his ears slowly turn a light shade of red. You frown, chuckling a bit at his actions, before settling yourself across his chest.

“The power came back a while after you fell asleep,” he explains.

You giggle as you assume maybe he’s shy because of what happened last night. But your smile fades as your mind begins to overthink, your subconscious screaming that maybe you should feel shy, embarrassed. Weren’t you too easy? Letting him touch you like that after just a few kisses. Does Minho think you came into bed with him for that reason?

You think back to the last boyfriend you had, who berated you for how ‘whorish’ it had been when you asked to have sex with him instead of waiting for him to initiate it. And how your first boyfriend would tell you — every chance he got — that you acted like a slut, touching him as if you knew it would make him have sex with you. How, at the end of your relationship, he told you maybe you acted that way because you knew that sex was all you were good for. How another ex had laughed as he told you that even though you went through so many guys, you still managed to be a terrible fuck, and that was the reason he had to cheat on you.

There were also the murmurs around your school whenever you started a new relationship. Another one? She’s boy hopping so much she’s gonna get through our entire class in less than a year. Some girls just can’t stand to be alone, it’s kind of sad.

At some point, you had detangled yourself from Minho, now lying on your side and looking out the window. You never understood why so many people thought that way. You had five boyfriends from fifteen to eighteen, and in each of these relationships, you were either cheated on or broken up with in a less-than-pleasant way. But you did have the awful habit of jumping into relationships with little thought, often because you felt incomplete without a romantic partner — as romantic as high school relationships can be, anyway. Being single and content for almost four years now, you were proud to have worked on that.

But you still can’t shake off the feeling that maybe you were a bit too… forward. You were single, sure, but you were quick to jump at the opportunity to have Hyunjin as a fuck buddy. Perhaps people were right about that.

“Is everything okay?” Minho’s voice pulls you away from your racing thoughts. You offer him a tight-lipped smile, nodding.

“Yeah, I just zoned out.”

Sitting upright on the bed, you stretch with a sigh. Minho takes your hand before you can realize it, placing it on his chest and gently playing with your fingers, his eyes still glued to the ceiling. You gnaw on your bottom lip, pulling at the skin until it stings.

“I’m sorry if I was too forward last night,” you blurt out. Minho’s gaze shifts to focus on you, confusion swimming in his brown eyes and his hands halting around yours. Oh god, why did you say that?

“Forward?” The question trails off his lips, his eyebrows coming together in a frown.

With a sigh, you grimace at your own words. “Yeah, forward, like I was throwing myself at you. I’m sorry if it came off that way. I swear I’m not…”

“You’re not…?”

“You know what I mean, Minho,” you mumble, but his eyes remain swarmed with confusion. 

“I really don’t.”

You roll your eyes in exasperation, annoyed not at him but at yourself for having brought this up in the first place.

“You know, Minho,” you groan, “Forward, like, slutty. Like I asked to come to your bed just so you would fuck me.”

His expression softens, his eyes widening. He sits up as well, his hand still clutching yours.

“Why the fuck would I think that?” He asks matter-of-factly. “What happened last night was completely natural. We made out, we got horny, we took care of it together. You didn’t even ask me to touch you, I did it because I was dying to do it. You weren’t forward — you weren’t slutty.”

You feel the heavy veil of worry lift off your shoulders at his words. It was definitely going to take a while for you to work on that aspect of your trauma. This had never been an issue with Hyunjin since you were pursuing nothing more than a sexual relationship with him — things were different with Minho.

Minho was the complete opposite.

After countless moments of your heart racing and your hands trembling because of him, you finally confess to yourself that your affection for Minho extends well beyond platonic feelings.

With a small smile, you slowly nod your head. “Sorry for bringing this up, I just… didn’t want you to think badly of me.”

Minho smiles, placing a kiss on the back of your hand. “That wouldn’t have made me think badly of you. I’m not some Victorian man who thinks women should be burned at the stake for showing their ankles,” he chuckles, and you bite back a laugh. “Even if you had been slutty, so what? I’d like that just as much.”

You playfully hit his shin under the comforter as he wiggles his eyebrows at you.

Minho was unquestionably different.

“We gotta get to the airport soon,” he says with a sigh, stretching his arms over his head, carrying your hand along the way. “I had to book the earliest flight I could to save up some money.”

With a frown, you retrieve your phone from under your pillow and check for the time: seven-thirty a.m. You feel a pang of guilt as you recall how you are essentially on this trip for free.

“Why didn’t Chan help with the tickets?”

Minho bites the inside of his cheek before his lips stretch into a barely-there grin. “Chan was never coming to this trip,” he blurts out. You feel your lips fall agape.

“What?”

“I… planned this trip by myself. Only for you and me,” he explains. “I wanted to get far away from everything that distracted us so I could concentrate on showing you the good side of love like I’d been trying to do with all those fruitless attempts at taking you on dates.”

You take in his words and find yourself smiling at the gesture — the white lie Minho told pales in comparison to everything else he has done for you, both during this trip and since you met him. Truthfully, you didn’t even realize he had been taking you on dates. You mentally slap yourself in the head for that, believing he simply wanted to spend time with you as a friend.

“I’ll pay you back for my part of the trip as soon as—”

Minho’s voice interrupts you with a drawn-out ‘no.’ He smiles as you stare at him, puzzled.

“This entire trip must’ve been so expensive, Minho.”

But he’s unrelenting, shaking his head with a squeeze of your hand.

“I told you,” he says simply. “I do stupid shit when I’m in love.”

♡ taglist: @notevenheretbh1 @malunar28replies @jazziwritesthings @finchyyy @bloom-ings @linocz @minhochaos @lastgreatamericandynasty1

[thepowerofswayze]

cmon baby (give it to me)

originally on ao3

pairing: josh futturman / afab reader [gender not specified]

word count: 1.9K

warnings & info: 18+, all smut, a little bit of fluff at the very end lol, edging, a little dom/sub with sub josh, praise kink, oral sex (both receive), fingering, unprotected piv, reader has vagina and breasts, reader called beautiful, reader calls josh a good boy, reader rides him, established relationship, come swallowing

summary: Just porn. There's no plot to summarize, you edge him and he eats you out and you fuck!!!

☆

Josh could swear he was gonna die.

Your hand moved up and down his cock, the other squeezing his balls as you watched his face. He was groaning loudly at this point, his voice getting higher and higher as you brought him closer, his head falling back against the pillows and then-

You pulled your hand away. Josh whined, near tears at this point, having been brought to the edge and suddenly yanked back what felt like a hundred times now. “Please,” he begged, tongue darting out to wet his lips. “C’mon, please, baby.”

Smiling sweetly, you leaned over him and pressed your lips to his, drinking in the muffled noises he made. He shifted desperately underneath you, like he’d catch his cock on something, a part of you maybe, and get the friction he so desperately needed. You pulled away, grinning. “Josh,” you tsked, hands moving to his thighs, pushing them down to keep him from bucking up.

You’d been teasing him all night- whispering that it’d be so good if he just waited and patience is a virtue and didn’t he want to be a good boy?

As your hands rubbed up and down his thighs, he thought to himself that being good was starting to matter less and less.

“You’ve been perfect so far,” you murmured, lips against his neck, leaving kisses everywhere you went. “Just a little longer for me.” You’d littered him with marks on his neck, his collarbone, his chest. Josh knew he was going to be covered in the little bruises- he’d have to wear a turtleneck under his uniform for a week, maybe longer. Right now, though, as your lips drew whimpers from him, he couldn’t give less of a fuck.

He was getting impatient- you could tell, even as he tried to hide it, still trying to be good. You decided you were done teasing him, that you’d finally let him have what he wanted so badly. You moved your lips up to his ear, murmuring praise as your hands rose to tease his nipples, telling him how if he kept this up, you might just let him come sometime.

His head jerked toward you at that. “Might?!” He cried, eyes wide. You grinned as you pulled back to look at him, and he rolled his eyes, realizing you were joking. “Not funny,” he said glaring up at you as you snickered quietly. “You’re actually evil. Like, cruel and unusual type evil.”

“Really?” You raised a brow, pushing off of him and tilting your head. “I distinctly remember you calling me a ‘fucking angel’ when I started jerking you off. Change your mind already?”

Josh scoffed, though there wasn’t much bite behind it. “Angels can be cruel, babe, and you’re being fucking brutal right now-” You cut him off with your hand wrapped around him, pumping once, twice. “Fuck,” he gasped. The sass was gone, replaced by pink cheeks and wide, pleading brown eyes. “You’ve gotta let me. I’ve been good, you said so yourself. I’m being a good boy.”

That seemed to be enough for you. “Alright,” you hummed, pressing almost chaste kisses to his skin, trailing down his chest and stomach. You pressed one final kiss to the tip of his cock, then wasted no time taking him in your mouth. Now he knew you were gonna let him come, because you knew he never lasted more than a minute with your mouth on him- especially not after all the work you’d just put him through.

Your head bobbed up and down his length, and any words remaining on the tip of his tongue were gone, replaced with the most embarrassing whines and whimpers he couldn’t help but let loose. Not that he cared. There was no one to hear it but you, and you were rewarding every sound he made with a squeeze of his balls, a flick of your tongue, a brush of his thighs. Before he knew it, Josh was seeing stars, his orgasm washing over him.

You took it all, swallowing and removing your mouth, stroking him until he’d come down. You kissed under his ear, murmuring “That’s it” and “Good, good job.” His hands reached for you desperately, pulling you into a kiss by the back of your neck, tasting himself on your lips.

He was still babbling, even as the rush of dopamine subsided and your hand came to a stop, moving to prop yourself up above him. You were pretty sure you caught a ‘thank you’ and a ‘fucking love you’ in there, muffled against your lips.

You pulled back to survey your boyfriend as you cleaned the little that was left of his release off your hand, taking in his puffy pink lips and hazy expression, his dark messy hair. You bit your lip- you couldn’t keep your hands off him for long.

One hand moved to his thigh, rubbing circles with your thumb. You relished the way his breath shook, his gaze quizzical as he looked up at you. “You think you can keep going for me, baby?” You asked, before pressing a kiss to the hollow of his throat. Your voice dropped to a whisper. “I want you inside of me. What do you say?”

The way he whimpered was music to your ears. He nodded, eager for whatever you’d give him, and you kissed down his neck. “Words,” you murmured, hands inching up his thighs slowly.

“I want- I want that,” he started, voice catching. “I want to fuck you, so bad. I wanna eat you out, baby, please. Let me touch you.”

You felt dizzy, his words finding their way between your legs, making you throb. “Okay,” you whispered, climbing off of him, letting him switch places with you and lay you down on the pillows.

He kissed down your body reverently, his hands sliding up your thighs and pushing them apart. Josh pressed a kiss to each thigh, then slowly ran a finger up your cunt, sweeping your slick onto your clit, rubbing slow circles there. You let out a breath, head falling back just a little as he turned some of his attention back to your thighs, leaving little marks to match the ones you’d so generously given him.

Your hands threaded into his hair, your breath growing unsteady. Josh moved the kisses up your thigh, lips ghosting your skin the closer he got, before hungrily putting his mouth on you. The moans that fell from your lips and the grip you had on his hair encouraged him to move his tongue up your cunt, sucking at your clit. He could feel his dick growing hard again, your grip tightening just enough to sting.

“Fuck, that feels good,” you breathed, his responding groan reverberating against you, making you bite your lip. “You’re so fucking good for me. Such a good boy.”

Josh let out another groan against you, shifting to press his erection to the bedsheet beneath him, desperate for friction. He pushed two fingers inside you and your head fell back, eyes closed, praise continuing to stream from your lips. The sounds you made, the taste of you as he moved his fingers in and out of you, was driving him to the brink.

“Fuck, baby,” you panted, tugging his hair to lift him off of you, pushing your hips into the bed away from his mouth. He obeyed, looking up at you with a furrowed brow, panting as he stopped rutting against the mattress. “As hot as it is to watch you do that, I can’t have you coming already, can I?”

His face flushed, but he grinned, lips and chin shining with your slick. Josh kissed up your body, stubble scratching against your skin. “Ride me?” He paired the request with a kiss to your breast, and you inhaled sharply as he looked up at you. “Please?”

“How could I ever say no to you?”

You two switched places once more, Josh back beneath you as you lined your hips up with his, pressing your cunt to his length. You moved your hips with purpose, grinding down against him, eliciting groans from both your mouths. 

His hands squeezed your hips, chest heaving. He whispered your name into the space between you two. “If you keep that up I’m not gonna- I won’t last inside- shit - inside you.”

“Okay,” you relented, rising up and lining yourself up with him. Slowly, you lowered yourself onto him. A gasp escaped your lips, your eyes not leaving his face as he exhaled hard, eyes lidded, gaze trained on your hips.

Once you’d sunk down, you took a moment to adjust, slowly winding your hips back and forth. He moaned, the sound spurring you on, and you picked up the pace. A smile tugged at your lips as he looked up at you, mouth open. “You’re so- fuck - so pretty like this,” you murmured, hands on his chest to keep you steady.

Josh was looking at you like you were made of light, like you might disappear before his eyes. “You’re fucking beautiful,” he breathed, hips moving to buck into you, making your head fall back and your mouth fall open.

You stopped grinding against him, quickly switching to lifting your hips slowly and dropping them back down, savoring the way his back arched slightly off the bed. One of his hands gripped your ass, and the other moved to thumb your clit, rubbing heavy circles against you. You let out a gasping moan, head falling forward, eyes squeezing shut for a moment.

You could tell when Josh neared the edge. The way his breath came faster, the way his eyelids fluttered and his hand got sloppy on your clit. “Look at you. Close again already?” You asked, watching the way his mouth fell open with whimpers and he nodded frantically, your hips stuttering as you neared your own release. “Come for me then, baby.”

He bucked into you once, twice, before his second orgasm crashed into him, eyes squeezed shut as he shouted your name. You weren’t far behind, your hips only managing to continue for a couple seconds before your own orgasm caught you, your back arching. The dopamine coursed through both your bodies, and you continued to grind your hips on his, panting and letting little noises escape until the bliss died down.

As your muscles relaxed, you stared at him for a moment. A slow grin spread on your face before you slowly rose off of him. Josh was smiling back against your lips as you kissed him, sweet and slow, and he let a hand trail up and down your back.

“All good?” You asked, nudging your nose against his. You were both still out of breath.

“Perfect,” he murmured back. Then he took a hold of your hips, pulling you down so that you were laying on top of him. You giggled as you fell, your chest pressed against him, feeling his breathing slow in time with your own.

After a minute or two, you shifted, propping yourself up on one arm and looking down at him. “We should take a shower,” you said.

“Hmm.” Josh didn’t move, not to stand or to let you go. His arms remained clasped around you. “We will. Eventually.” You groaned, determined not to sleep with the sticky sweaty mess your skin had become, and he laughed, the sound shaking his chest and vibrating against yours. “We will, we will, before we sleep. I just wanna lay here for a while, that’s all.”

You huffed but opted not to argue, instead cupping his face and thumbing his cheek. He pursed his lips and you chuckled as you leaned down to kiss him.

“I love you,” he whispered into your mouth.

You peppered his face, leaving no spot unkissed. “I love you.”

[base0h]

Yknow i kinda feel like I live in ur ask box but I just cannot get enough of how you write 💟💟 I suppose I’m feeling mischievous because, how do you think the monster trio would react to you asking them to open a pickle jar because ‘you can’t open it’ but in reality you glued it shut as a prank 💀

a/n - anime you can live here rent free if you want 💜 oml everytime you request im excited!! your requests are so funny 😭

Warnings ⚠️ - crack, g/n reader

- idk if there’s a jar he can’t open but- you were determined to make this one absolutely impossible to open

- super glue always seemed to work, so you glued the cap onto the jar and ran over to find Luffy lying on the couch, napping away as usual

- you tapped his nose and he sat upright pretty quickly, rubbing his eyes

- “Hey Lu, can you open this for me? I cant open it.”

- He grinned, flexing his arms with a laugh, “Shishishi~ gimme it!”

- he took it and expected for the cap to fly off, but instead, it stayed put while his hand spun around the cap

- …

- the silence was so loud 💀

- “AGHHHHH WHY WONT IT OPEN?!”

- man tried opening it with his feet 💀 Idek if you wanna eat the pickles anymore bro

- he could easily break the jar, but he didn’t want to waste the pickles 😭

- while he was fuming about it in the corner, sobbing about how he’d become so weak because he can’t open the jar, you switched it out, grabbing one you had already opened before

- “Oh i got it, nevermind!”

- he literally shot up, staring at the open jar in your hands

- man was sobbing 😭

- “I’VE GOTTEN SO WEAK Y/N- I don’t even deserve to be your boyfriend anymore-“

- you felt so bad- so you ended up giving him the entire pickle jar to himself which made him forget about this incident

- you promised yourself never to do that again because he cried for a solid 45 minutes about how he wouldn’t be able to protect you anymore and how useless he is 🫠

- you could ask him anything and he’d do it without thinking twice

- a full 7 course meal? Please, that’s easy

- a whole bouquet of hand arranged flowers? Of course!

- opening a pickle jar would be nothing, or at least he thought so

- you decided it’d be funny to see his reaction if he couldn’t open the jar because you had glued it shut beforehand

- after you borrowed some glue from Usopp, you went to ask Sanji to open it

- “Hey Sanji, can you open this for me? I was gonna make egg salad!”

- he took it with a smile. The thought of eating the food you made fueled his motivation and strength to open this jar

- he was actually pretty confused why it wouldn’t open when he tried to screw it off

- he tried several more times before he hurriedly rushed off to the kitchen, ransacking the drawers for a jar opener, pliers, anything

- he did literally everything- banging the jar against the counter, using the pliers, twisting it with the jar opener, and at one point, he held the jar opener so tight that he broke it in half😭

- he even tried stabbing a hole in the top!

- nothing succeeded

- he was at this for about 15 minutes 💀

- when he came out with such a depressed look on his face, you couldn’t help but regret playing this little prank on him

- “Sorry- I couldn’t open it..”

- he was about to cry I swear 😭

- you gave in, how could you let him feel so sad?! It was just a joke after all-

- “It was a joke Sanji don’t worry- I glued it shut beforehand.. Sorry for joking about it-“

- 1, he was kind of sad that you’d play a prank like that on him. And 2, you really weren’t gonna make the egg salad?.. 🥺

- “Can you still make the egg salad though?”

- his eyes were sparkling- omfg how could you say no?!

- you made the egg salad for him with the other jar of pickles, and made sure to give him lots of hugs and kisses afterwards 💜

- you always made everything better. even if you’re the one who made things worse in the first place

- is there anything this man can’t do? he can’t take a shower or find the bathroom.

- anyways- there’s almost nothing that this man cannot do

- you’re a shit stirrer (affectionate) so you decided to superglue a jar shut, expecting him to struggle with opening it

- “Zoro can you open this? I cant open it.”

- he took it with a yawn and tried opening it the first try, and it wouldn’t budge

- man almost opened his other eye from shock, why tf wouldn’t it open??

- he kept trying it before he used his sword to slice he cap off quickly

- you were about to start wheezing, zoro couldn’t open a jar of pickles

- “Shut it y/n I know you’re laughing” that sent you to heaven and back omg you were on the floor, struggling to breathe

- “SHUT UP!”

- his pride was gravely wounded after this- roronoa zoro, defeated by jar of pickles

- he was sulking for a while, ignoring you like a big baby

- “Zoro it was a joke- it was superglued shut.”

- he pinned you against the wall, leaning close to your ear, “I’m gonna show you what happens when you play jokes on me like that.”

- his tone was almost a growl, and he started dragging you back towards the room

- this is when you realized, why weren’t you in the hallways by now?

- “ZORO- THE ROOM IS THE OTHER WAY DUMBASS!”

- “I- WELL- YOU DIDN’T TELL ME THAT.”

- “DON’T GET ALL SEDUCTIVE AND THEN FORGET WHERE THE ROOM IS YOU IDIOT 💀”

a/n - pls zoro is so dumb sometimes

[merlincmgirl]

Just A Bit Of Contraband

Word Count: 1651

Reader: Gender Neutral

Summary: You really did just want to help Fox and his brothers, but maybe there's a better way than sneaking around the Senate building at night.

Author's Note: This is the first time I've written for Fox, so I hope it's okay. And mention of annoying little shit of a brother Thorn!

Cyare - beloved, love

Osik'la - messed up, screwed up, horrible

Sneaking into the Senate building was no small feat and you were beyond lucky that most, if not all the Senators and staff had gone home for the night. You were on a mission. A very important mission to help the Coruscant Guards do their jobs during this terrible war. Up ahead of you was the room that you had arranged to meet your contact in. It had been in a room you had been in only once or twice, only for a few minutes and never on your own. You just hoped that it would be empty now. Tapping open the button to let you in, you were glad to see that your contact was already there, pressed to the back of the room and hiding in the shadows himself.

“I’ve got the stuff” you whispered, sneaking towards the figure in the break room. Commander Thorn only sighed in relief, stepping forward into the light that filtered through the small window that let it in from the corridor outside. Carefully, he quickly examined the small packages that you handed to him.

“These are perfect. You don’t realise how much we’ll need this. Senate’s holding a fundraiser, security is going to be a nightmare. You know Fox is going to have a field day” Thorn complained, slipping the packs into his belt as much as he could.

“Anything I can do to support the war effort, Commander” you replied cheekily, pulling more packages out of your bag.

The light flickered on overhead as the door slid open, revealing none other but Marshall Commander Fox himself.

“Cyare? What are you doing here?” Fox’s modulated voice came through his helmet’s speakers. You squeaked, unable to do anything but hide the packages behind your back. It wasn’t the smartest of moves, not in the least because it made you look more guilty than you were. Even through his helmet you could still feel Thorn’s side eye but you ignored him.

“Nothing! I was just waiting for you!” you excused, a shaky smile spread over your face. Maker! You could lie as well as the clones it would seem.

“Thorn? What’s going on?” Fox demanded, turning to his vod who was shuffling the packages onto the clip of his belt behind him. There was less patience in his voice now for his fellow commander, and Thorn seemed to sense that like all little brothers could.

“Fox! I was just telling your cyare that you’re probably going to be working late because of the security detail” Thorn stated, and if you hadn’t had known any better, you would have believed him. Well, perhaps you were a worse liar than a clone.

Fox hummed, coming up closer to you and standing in front of you, arms crossed across his chest and helmet tilted down to give you an analysing look. “Hand it over” he instructed, hand outstretched and expecting.

“What?” you cried, floundering for a second at how quick he was to figure you out. You should have known really, Fox could read you like an open book any day of the week.

Fox didn’t even need to look over to Thorn to know that he was trying to slide away from the pair of lovers and closer to the exit. Almost like if he tried to stay out of Fox’s line of sight then he’d be free to escape. “Stay!” he growled head not even turning in his direction, and you couldn’t help but gape at Thorn’s retreating form.

“Thorn! What about we’re in this together?” you gasped, annoyed at the Commander who was so ready to high-tail it out of this situation.

“Sorry vod’ika, but you’re more likely to get out of this than me! I’m not going to be stuck on patrol in the lowest levels again for a week!” Thorn protested, holding up his hands in surrender.

Fox let out a warning call of your name and you winced, before slumping against the counter that was digging into your back. “Alright, alright, but please don’t be mad. We were only trying to help” you sighed, handing over the packet that you had been hiding in your bag. It crinkled in Fox’s grip as you shuffled around nervously on your feet in front of him. You were unsure how he would react.

“Alderaanian caf beans?” Fox frowned, unable to believe that this was what you were sneaking into the Coruscant Guard Headquarters. He had wondered what you and his idiotic brother could be up to, but he didn’t think you would be sneaking in contraband caf beans. What the hell were you two up to?

“Please don’t be mad. I know you’re always telling me that I shouldn’t be wasting my credits on you and that it’s not my responsibility to keep you sane and awake at 4am. But I wanted to do something to help. You haven’t slept for the past 3 days, and I haven’t seen you in nearly as long. And I’m not complaining but I want to make sure you’re okay. And Thorn was telling me that you hadn’t been taking any breaks and Palpatine was being a kriffing shithead and I was worried” you hurried to explain, chest tightening as you worried that Fox would hate you for interfering with his job as the Marshal Commander of the Coruscant Guards.

Thorn winced at that, ignoring the glare that his older brother shot his way. He knew he would be getting into shit for telling you exactly what Fox was getting up to when you weren’t there. Especially not looking after himself. You were always telling Fox he needed to look after himself more. Take more rest, eat food that wasn’t rations and drink something that wasn’t caf every now and again.

“So I thought maybe making sure that you had some decent caf would help, you know, keep you awake for all the awful shit Palpatine is no doubt going to put you through because he’s the worst, and really he should be shot. And if you need volunteers, then I’ll be the first in line to shoot that motherf-” you rambled on, before Fox slid a hand over your mouth; before he or someone else heard any more and would have to arrest you for some ridiculous shit like treason.

Seeming to take a breath and stop rambling, you looked up at Fox, waiting for his reaction.

“You, get out of here. I’ll deal with you later” Fox ordered his brother, who sent you a quick thumbs up and ran out of the break room. “You… you should be careful what you say cyare. Who knows who’s listening in this building” he sighed, taking off his helmet with his other hand and settling on your waist. “Can I let go now?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at you. Accepting your rolling eyes and nod of agreement, he let the hand slip down and squeeze your other hip.

“Are you mad?” you whispered, hoping he wouldn’t be too angry with you. It wasn’t like you were sneaking around for your own benefit. You truly did want to help Fox and his brothers out.

“Course I’m not mad, I’m just worried, cyare. Sneaking around the Senate building after dark, breaking at least a dozen security laws and protocols and making me think we had a thief breaking into the barracks was not the best decision you’ve ever made Cyare. I dread to think what you could do if you had more resources. But it can’t happen again, do you understand me?” Fox rebuked, gripping onto your waist and bringing you into him as close as he could get you. It wasn’t like any reprimand he’d ever given to his men, but sneaking around Senate and GAR buildings were a sure way to find trouble. Trouble he may not always be able to get you out of. It worried him too much to think of you hurt.

“I understand, I’m sorry Fox. I just wanted to make things better for you and your brothers. I know you haven’t been sleeping well, I just thought this might be able to help better than the mud water that they serve you” you sighed, biting your lip and resting your hands on the cool plastoid of his armour.

Fox cupped your face, bringing you up to look into his dark, expressive eyes. They held exhaustion, worry and no small amount of love. Being able to see him clearer now without his helmet always took your breath away. His greying hair at the temples fell across his face in soft curls, the scars that ran across his nose was slightly lighter than his usual tan tone. Maker he was beautiful, and you would tell him that every single day until he believed you. Shaking his head at whatever he could see on your face, he let out a small smile, thumb rubbing softly against your cheekbone. “Even if you shouldn’t be wasting your credits on us, and it’s the Republic’s responsibility to fund our caf addictions to keep this osik’la planet safe and running, thank you. I don’t know what I’d do without your big heart, taking care of me and my men” he whispered, leaning down to press his lips to yours to silence any reply.

“Now, how about we go back to yours and I can show you just how thankful I have to have a cyar’ika like you looking after me?” he hummed, resting his forehead against yours.

“That sounds perfect to me, Commander” you smiled, pushing his curls away from his face and leaning up to press a chaste kiss to his own lips. He just grinned, tucking the packet of caf beans into his belt before grabbing his helmet and pulling you out of the break room. After all, he was due a break and Thorn would cover for him.

[familyvideostevie]

october sixth

day six: james potter james brings you to a campfire with his friends | fluff! james being flirty | 1.1k

It’s a bit of strange magic that you haven’t met James’s friends yet. Not officially, anyway. In passing, sure, and James has told you all about them. He talks about the boys and their antics constantly and assures you that the girls will adore you. It’s only a matter of time before you all get together.

Not for lack of trying, of course. But Remus was out of town and then Sirius had the flu which he gave to Marlene and then everyone was busy with an old schoolmate’s wedding and you were swamped with work and it’s been almost three months since your first date and you still haven’t been properly introduced.

It doesn’t bother you that much. In fact, you’re pretty sure it bothers James much more. “I just don’t want you to think I’m hiding you,” he says. “It’s bloody weird that it’s worked out like this.”

The fix comes with the change of the seasons. Lily’s parents have a country house and invite everyone for a weekend of bonfires and warm drinks and general lazing about.

“A country house, James? Really?” you say when he tells you. He shrugs.

“We go every year. You’ll love it.”

So you agree. It’s not until you’re literally about to turn into the drive that the nerves hit you all at once. Your leg bounces in the passenger seat of James’s car and he puts his palm on your knee to still it.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asks. “No harm, no foul.”

“Of course I do,” you scoff. “We’re almost there, anyway.”

James grabs your hand and brings it to his lips. “I’d turn around right now if you asked,” he says. “Seriously.” His dark gaze is steady and warm.

“I will not ask that,” you say. “I want to meet them. I just —”

“They’ll love you,” James says firmly. “They know all about you and they are just as offended that this hasn’t happened sooner. They all blame me, actually.”

He turns off of the long road and the house emerges in front of you like a fairy tale. It’s a country house, sure, but it’s clearly large and nicer than anything you’ve ever seen.

“I hope you’ve only told them good things,” you say. James turns off the car and allows you to stall for a few moments.

“No, I’ve told them how you snore and leave your kitchen cabinets open all the time,” he deadpans. You laugh and he grins. “Have you got your silly bag?”

The tote at your feet is full of things you’ve brought with, despite James’s protests. Licorice for Sirius, cider for Remus, Lily’s favorite biscuits from town. You made sure to have a little something for everyone even though your boyfriend assured you that buying their loyalty wasn’t necessary.

“They’re already on your side since you put up with me,” he’d said.

But now you just nod. James gives your hand one last squeeze. “They’re going to love you,” he says. You let yourself look at him, really look at him in the way you know he enjoys. He looks excited, almost boyish. Fall suits him with his sweater and waxed jacket, a hat tucked into his pocket. His hair is a mess and his glasses need to be cleaned.

You adore him.

“Let’s do it.”

You arrive at the front door to a flurry of activity. Everyone spills out and there are cries of your name and hugs and you hand off your items, feeling a bit shy.

“My god,” Sirius says, looking at his licorice. “She’s perfect, Jamie.”

Remus thanks you with an easy smile for the cider and Lily actually screams when you pull out the biscuits.

“She’s a keeper, Potter,” she shouts. “If you ever want to ditch him,” she says to you, “you’re welcome to. You can hang out with the girls.”

You get pulled from James and meet Dorcus and Marlene and they take you up to your room. The sun has almost set so they tell you to put some more layers on and come down to the bonfire when you’re ready.

“See?” James says as he spills into the room. He tosses your bags on the bed. “They love you more than they love me.”

“I am rather charming,” you say. He laughs and kisses you once, twice, three times. He backs you up against the door and you have to push him away. “They’re expecting us at the bonfire, James.”

He pouts. “Fine,” he says. “If you insist.”

The evening is a fun one. There are jokes and stories and games, everyone drinking to stay warm and snacking on junk food.

You wander back from a trip to the bathroom to find that the seats have reshuffled, the conversations moved. James waves you over.

He’s bathed in the light of the fire, the flames making the lenses of his glasses shine in the dark. The bench he’s on has no more room but he grins and pats his thigh.

You raise your eyebrows. Really? He winks.

You do as he asks and perch on his thigh, knees smushed into his other leg. He wraps his arm around your back to keep you from falling if you lean too far. Dorcus is telling a story about some adventure she and Marlene went on last week, so no one really looks at you.

James tugs on your ear. You lean down and his lips brush against your skin. “This is nice. Are you having fun?”

You nod. “I am,” you say into his hair. “They’re lovely.”

“Thank you for coming.” You know James is mostly happy-go-lucky, pleased as punch to do anything, a real sunshine boy. But you also know it has bothered him immensely that two important parts of his life have been separate until now. He’s worried endlessly that you think he’s not keen on your relationship despite your assurances otherwise. So you are glad that you’re here, even if you were nervous at the start. You just want him to be happy.

He kisses your cheek until you turn your head enough for him to capture your lips. You can’t wait to be in his arms in bed tonight.

“Oi!” Sirius yells. “Stop canoodling. It’s obscene.” He’s teasing, obviously, but you tuck your face into James’s neck anyway.

“Aw, let them,” Lily says. “You’re just bitter you’re single as fuck.”

“Hey!” Everyone laughs. You feel James’s chuckle more than hear it and you put your palm on his chest. His heart is beating steadily. You can hardly believe he’s given it to you.

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, general masterlist here! promptober masterlist, find all fics under #fvspromptober23

[cutedice]

i could have a headcannon on the monster + ace trio with a s/o who died in the battle and when they come back in boat their kid comes up and says "where's mommy?? she said we'll be playing dolls when she comes back !!☹️"

((ooooh this one hurt. Thanks for requestin!!))

Telling Your Kid You're Gone

Characters: Warnings: Death (reader dies), angst, mentions of violence

Fem!Reader, Feminine Titles used "mama, mom, etc..."

LUFFY

- He watched it happen. 

- He watched the bastard that killed you commit the crime. 

- And he couldn’t do anything to stop it. 

- It was devastating. Flashes of other people he loved vanishing just out of reach filled his head. Sudden grief filled his heart, and he couldn’t hold back the brutal beating the guy had coming.

- He held your dead body for a while and made sure you had a burial. He wasn’t going just to leave you. He wanted to give you a proper one at sea, something beautiful. 

- He brought you back with him and Franky was quick to start setting something up while Chopper and Robin prepped you.

- He went off to do his own important task. He finds your daughter in the kitchen doodling at the table and singing. 

- She does look a lot like you when he looks at her.

- She looks over, excited for a moment before she pouts. “Aw it’s just daddy,” she stuck her tongue out. “I want mommy! Where’s she?”

- Luffy chuckled, walking over and pinching her cheeks. “Am I not good enough?” he asked her, pulling as she whine in annoyance. He stopped shortly after though and crouched down. Tears were already building in his eyes. And, he’s never been subtle, but he almost wants to try for her.

- Still, he tries to speak. Once, then twice, and finally he pulls her into his arms. “I’m sorry,” he says, still smiling just a bit, “(Y/N)’s gone away. She won’t be back.”

- The girl doesn’t mind the hug, but she leans back to take Luffy’s face into her tiny hands. “Quit crying! I don’t like crying!” she exclaimed.

- “It’s okay to cry,” Luffy argued as she stretched his face in revenge for the earlier treatment. “I just miss her a lot!”

- Your daughter nods and huffs. “I miss mommy too!” she decided with another nod before she squeezed Luffy tight. “Is she really nod gonna come back? Not even to visit?”

- It broke his heart to tell her no.

ZORO

- Damn.

- He sat on the ground, covered in blood, next to your motionless body.

- You looked so peaceful and content.

- He was all for going out in battle, so the fact you died fighting until the end made him unbelievably happy in one way.

- It also left him feeling empty and lost.

- ‘More than usual?’ 

- He could imagine you saying something like that, and it almost made him laugh.

- He cried a handful of times in his life, and he swore he wouldn’t ever again after the fight with Mihawk. But tears just kept falling against his will. 

- So, he sat. Silently crying and deeply wounded. 

- He eventually called the others with him over once the tears had finished and his aching heart settled for the time. They helped him give you a proper burial, something quick, but it meant a lot to him.

- Once he returned to the ship, he headed for the library in search of his daughter. Robin was left in charge, and he figured that’d be his best bet in locating her. 

- He asked Robin to leave, which she did after a moment, patting Zoro on the shoulder before she gave them privacy.

- “Dad?” your daughter asked, looking at him curiously.

- “Hey,” he greeted, walking over and patting her head before he sat down with a small sigh. “I’ve got some news.”

- He told her honestly what happened, sugarcoating a few things, but he let her know about you and your brave sacrifice. And he was there for her as she cried into him.

- If anything, he was happy she was still alive. He would give anything to keep her from experiencing that loss again, as she became his world as they lost you.

SANJI

- “(Y/N)!”

- He screamed your name. He watched the sword go through you in complete terror. 

- It all happened so fast, yet so slowly. The battlefield felt frozen at the moment. 

- He moved fast, kicking the man away that dared to hurt you. No one even saw where he went. For all they knew, Sanji kicked him hard enough to make him disappear. 

- That didn’t matter to the cook, though, not when he cradled your face in his hands and tried to get Chopper or anyone to help.

- But it was ultimately too late. You passed in moments, whispering your last words before going limp. 

- He was so full of grief immediately. The battle continued behind him while he mourned before he got up to help finish. And, when it was all done, the strawhats around helped put you to rest before they escorted Sanji back to the ship.

- He didn’t blame you or anyone on board, though he wanted to push it somewhere. He blamed himself in that steed, for being too slow, for not being strong enough. He blamed the stupid murderer as well and the gull of him harming you. 

- He dismissed himself from the group once they returned to the Sunny, and he quickly ran off to locate his daughter.

- He found her in the men’s cabin with Brook, the two playing dolls together. Brook could recognize the aura surrounding the chef, so he left the two alone.

- “Papa! Are you and Mama gonna play with me now?” she asked, holding up a doll towards him. 

- Sanji had to fight back tears, leaning down to brush her hair out of her face before cradling it much as he did yours. “No bugs. Mama won’t be able to play.”

- He carefully broke the news to her, holding her tightly as she cried into him. He cried with her, soothing her to the best of his abilities as well. 

- “It’ll be okay. I’m here, I’m here…”

ACE

- Needless to say, he was not okay when it happened. Not in the least. 

- He already struggled daily with his own worth, but losing one of the only people who made him feel worth loving hit him hard.

- The whitebeards were big on getting back at those who hurt their family, and given the fact you were not only his partner but the mother of his child, he was going to murder whoever dared hurt you personally. 

- His flames were hotter than ever, and the battle was over in minutes. He was left for a minute, cold despite the heat and afraid of heading back to the ship without you. But he did. He forced himself to walk to the ship and board.

- He felt like time was slow, and his reactions were late. He also felt suddenly as though he were a burden, like a curse that wasn’t worth living. 

- That was until he felt a hand tug on his. He looked down, and for a moment, he saw you. But then he noticed freckles and curious eyes, and he smiled tiredly. “Hey, Sweety.”

- “Pops said you were sad!” she declared, and she had this determined tone in her voice that ace would typically adore, but now he was just too beat to acknowledge it with anything but a sad hum. Which ultimately confirmed her suspicion. 

- She reached up, and Ace lifted her without complaint. She leaned in to wrap her arms around his neck, hugging him. “They said Mama’s gone,” she mumbled. “Is she really?”

- Ace’s breath hitched. She was clever, and he knew she could handle the truth, but that fact also hurt him in a way. He put a hand on the back of her head, gently patting her. “Yes… Yeah, it’s true,” he admitted quietly. “I’m sorry,” he choked out, trying to hold back a sob.

- But, to his surprise, she pulled back. And, with the strength of a child raised by pirates, she squeezed his face and looked at him sternly through her own tears. “Mama was strong! We gotta be strong for Mama,” she nodded and patted his cheeks. “Okay? Strong for Mama!”

- Ace stared at her, his tears falling, and he smiled a bit. “Right. We’ve gotta be strong for her.”

- It wasn’t much, but at that moment, he decided he’d live for her. He was sure that you’d want that for him, and he grieved hard, and sometimes it was… terrible. But, he kept going for her.

[small-but-mighty]

Meet Mable!

I’ve been putting off telling this story because I wanted to focus on the other stories that these animals have to share. Anyways, my sister finally told me it’s an important one to share. So, meet Mable!

Mable is actually my bunny. She is a wonderful beautiful lionhead with just the right amount of “bunitude”. However, she hasn’t always had her luxurious long mane.

One day, one of the animal cruelty officers from work (the RISPCA) got word of a rabbit in rough condition posted on Craigslist. So, she went and investigated and ended up bringing the rabbit to our clinic for veterinary care. The little rabbit was in ROUGH condition. All four limbs were covered in urine scolding, and there was not an ounce of fat on the body, you could feel the bones. Just incase somebody who isn’t bunny savy is reading this, rabbits must always have a source of hay, this enables them to have the fiber required to keep their insides moving, if their digestive system were to stop, it very quickly can kill the rabbit. The little bunny brought to clinic, was on the verge of this happening. The small animal manager texted our team and said that this little bunny was coming into the shelter and that our vet was not sure she was going to make the weekend. I asked if our vet wanted me to take her, to at least pass on a home with love. What I thought was going to be a weekend just to give a little bun a home to pass, turned into the start of a long journey.

She survived the first weekend, and by then… she stole my heart. This little baby was only about three months old, and she had a fighting spirit. She was a bit shy about me, but she knew I was helping her, taking her meds like a champ, and chowing down on all the hay I could offer. I knew I couldn’t let her go. That Tuesday (it was a long weekend!) I brought her back to the clinic, it was time to start the process of finding out just how truly bad her legs were. This meant she had to be put under anesthesia. While under anesthesia the veterinarian was able to perform x-rays on her legs, which showed that the urine scolding on her legs (this was caused by her living in her own filth) was so bad, the infection went down to one of the bones. Great. We made the weekend, we woke up from anesthesia, but now we have to pray we can treat this infection. Or else she would have to become a little tripod. Now becoming a tripod would not have been the end of Mable’s story, I remember doing research about tripod rabbits, just incase! However, nobody wants to ambulate a bunny’s leg…..

So after removing all the dead skin from all four limbs, I was able to be there when Mable woke up from her anesthesia. It was no longer a mission to just survive, we were gonna heal now. For months, Mable wore cast like bandages on her legs and got antibiotics twice a day. These had to be changed twice a week by a vet. We started out with all 4 in casts, then we went to just her back legs, until it was just her one really bad leg. FINALLY, all four legs were free! The first time I ever saw this bunny binky, I almost cried! She was able to do that, because of the time, patience, talent, and dedication our team had.

She still wasn’t done yet though! There was still one more big procedure she had to make it through. Her spay! I will always advocate for spaying and neutering your bunny, but my goodness was I nervous! The little fighter has already gone through so much and she had to go through a surgery now! Of course she came through like it was nothing though.

I took Mable home on January 20th, 2023, and her official adoption day of when she was medically cleared was May 23,2023. So it was a very lengthy process of healing, my entire last semester of college actually.

Today, Mable is the most spoiled bunny! She has her own bed, so many toys and treats (including those that come in her monthly subscription box), and so many people that love her! She recently had her first yearly check up where she got a clean bill of health!

You can sometimes find Mable with me at the RISPCA, where we have told our story to kids at our humane education camp, and even to potential adopters or those who are trying to learn more about rabbits when they attend our bunny related events!

Mable is a huge part of my life and even though she is a tiny little gal, she really has shown both me and the world just how mighty she is. Next time you visit the RISPCA, look around the adoption areas and the smallie room, you may just find her picture around!

[totallyunidentified]

Auntie Omega

A/n This is dedicated to my best friend who gave me this idea and let me run with it.

Omega lives to see the fall of the Empire and the rise of the First Order. She joins Leia and helps train pilots for the resistance. 

This is a part one of what I’m hoping to make a longer series

I hope you enjoy!!

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

“Leia, I'm just about done.”

Omega looks at her old friend who she had been fighting alongside since the early days of the Rebellion. In the years between the Empire’s fall and the first order’s rise the two had always been friends. Wrinkles had started to show on her face as much as they did on her own.Growing up and old together. Leia had accompanied Omega to visit Pabu many times, and was with Omega when she returned home the three times when it was the hardest. She had held her as she cried and reminded her that, though her brothers were gone, she was not alone. She would always have her fellow Rebels and she’d always have Leia.

“I don’t know why you would think that, You know as well as I do these pilots aren’t gonna train themselves. I need you here, Mega.”

“I know, I know,” Omega chuckles. “I just want to retire to Pabu, like my brothers did. I’ve had twice as many years as they got, I want to be able to put fresh flowers on their markers and watch Batcher’s great grand pups play on the beach. Wrecker’s kids aren’t getting any younger, I want to see them grow.”

They’d had this conversation before, sitting at this very briefing table. Omega felt done. The First Order was relentless and she didn’t want to lose any more people she loved. She fiddles with the necklace around her neck as Leia speaks.

“How ‘bout this? I’ve got this one kid — huge pain in my ass,you’ll love him — he needs training. He’s already good but you can make him great.”

“You are trying to appeal to my ego,”

“Is it working?”

“….yes,” Omega grumbles as Leia laughs

“Listen Megs, this kid is crazy. You were trained by crazy.”

“Hey!”

“You said that yourself! Crazy knows crazy so I need you to train him. You’ll like him, I promise. You’ve trained all my best pilots. Who was that last girl? Hillary? Holland? Oh, Holly! That’s it. You made her one of our best. She’s just about as good as Luke was, you know.”

Omega sighs, leaning more onto the table.

“Fine. But if he's a little shit then you owe me dinner.”

“Add it to my tab,” Leia laughs and stands up, motioning for Omega to follow her. They walk out of the briefing room and down the hall to the hangar, passing many who either greet or salute them as they pass. Both women smile and salute in return. Everyone on base had almost grown up with Aunt Omega and General Leia. If they hadn’t then they were surprised to find that Omega would adopt them eventually.

If Omega didn’t personally adopt you then she found you others who would be your family. She knew what it felt like to be isolated while surrounded by people. If she saw you sitting by yourself then she made sure to send someone else over and would make you start talking to each other. Omega always had an uncanny ability to bring people together exactly how they needed it.

As they walk into the hangar they squint as the bright sun comes through the open hangar doors.They hear it before they see it. Two figures, one man and one woman, both human,both in flight suits. Pilots. The space between them narrows as their voices get louder.

“You can’t shut off the karking engine mid-flight!” the woman yells up at the man in front of her.

“With enough altitude and, oh I dunno, life and death, then yes! I can!” the man yells back.

The pair is nearly nose-to-nose by the time Omega steps in.

“You two! Holly, you’ve got a cooler head than this.Tell me what's going on.”

“This nerfherder thinks that shutting the engines off would make for an effective escape strategy.”

“In the sky, or out in space?”

“In the sky, Aunt Mega. He’s got a kriffing death wish.”

Omega looks at the young man,standing there with his arms crossed and chest heaving. He’s ready for a fight.

“Well? In the sky would you turn your engine off?”

“He said tha—”

Omega holds up her hand, quietening Holly immediately.

“No. I want to hear this from him. It is his idea after all. So Mr. Trouble-maker…”

“Poe.”

“Gesundheit. Mr. Trouble-maker, care to explain why you think killing your engines in the middle of a battle would help you in any way?” Omega questions.

Poe thinks over his answer before beginning what she knew would be a long-winded speech bloated with chest-puffing and exaggeration. She knew both well.

“Well, as I was saying to my lovely acquaintance — Holly, was it —,if you’re skilled enough, a pilot could kill your engines only halfway and dropped behind enemy fighters and become the one doing the chasing.”

He finishes his explanation with a nod to a glowering Holly and turns his gaze back to the woman in front of him.

Poe had heard of the “Aunt Omega” of base camp. In her eyes there was a sparkle that spoke of wisdom, kindness, and love. Her hair is white as Hoth, held back by a red bandana,her face covered in laugh-lines that were evidence of a good life full of happiness. Everyone said that she was kind, loving, caring, and more. They also said she was hard-headed, extremely quick, and took no bullshit from anyone.

“Your response, Holly?” Omega turns to Holly looking to create a discussion instead of an argument.

“I said bullshit because your engines wouldn’t be able to turn off and then back on quickly enough to escape.”

“Half off,” Poe snaps back.

“Oh yeah well I’m gonna cut half your—“

Holly isn’t able to finish her sentence before Omega stops her once again.

“Thrusters.”

“Pardon?” Poe looks at Omega incredulously

“Not the engine but the thrusters. You have to lower the thrusters and pull back if you even hope to dream of finishing that tight of a turn.Technically, it could be possible if you lowered your thrusters to slow down already but kept the engines primed when you shut them off. And then turned them back on and immediately throttled all the way up.” Omega says, rubbing her chin in thought, though she already knows the answer. Her brother had taught her this years ago.

Poe turns to Holly and very maturely sticks his tongue out. She flips him off in return.

“All right, all right. Since you two have decided to be as immature as possible, why don't you test this out?”

“Mega, I don't know if that's a good idea,” Leia tries to start before Omega shoots her a trust me look.

“Those two x-wings have your names on them. Troublemaker, you get to test your theory and if you’re wrong, Holly you get to take out your frustrations in a game of tag,”

“Tag? What are we, twelve?”

“Did you play tag in x-wings at twelve years old?”

“Wouldn't you like to know, flyboy”

“Real mature.”

“You’re one to talk.”

Leia and Omega watch the two bicker before looking at each other and laughing, grinning at the next generation of youngsters who would be taking their places.

“If you two are done, I want to see what you’re made of. Go.”

The pilots shoot one last glare at each other before racing to their x-wings,throwing on their helmets, each one trying to beat the other to their ship. They carefully race through their pre-flight checks obviously safety is a large concern when playing tag with an X-wing.

“I’ll give you a couple seconds head start, Troublemaker.” Holly can be heard throughout the hangar, Omega turns and sees that there is a group starting to form around a radio connected to the com systems.

“The name’s Poe.”

“Is it?”

“Fifty credits the new kid eats it, Holly’s got this,” one mechanic says as he and another pull up crates for the growing crowd to sit on.

As Holly takes off she makes eye contact with Omega, giving her a two fingered salute.

“See? Crazy needs crazy,” Leia comments as they turn their attention to Poe who had been doing some tricks to warm up.

“You said he could fly, what is it that he's doing now? That's just fancy flippage and twirling.”

“Meh, he's got the foundation. I need you to help build the rest.”

They both practice for several minutes, getting comfortable in their fighters before hearing Omega’s voice through the speakers.

“Alright, I want a nice clean game. The guns are set to simulation so you can shoot as normal without messing up those beautiful paint jobs. Three tags and you're out. Got it?”

“Affirmative Auntie.”

Silence…

“Troublemaker?”

“It's not— ugh! Nevermind, yeah got it,”

The two fighters swing away from each other. The crowd on the ground cheers as Holly spins and hits the accelerator immediately closing in on Poe,

“Tag! You’re it!” Her joyous shout can be heard over the coms. The responding muttered string of curses isn't heard as clearly over the audience’s cheers for their friend.

“That’s one for Holly! Troublemaker, I’m still waiting to see that fancy trick of yours.”

The two fighters round back at each other, playing a game of chicken before they pull away and turn in opposite directions. This time it’s Poe chasing Holly as they zoom through the sky. She manages to evade him for a while as the sun gets lower and lower.

Leia and Omega sit by the radio as more people drop off, leaving to go finish work or rest in their quarters. Finally, after ages of cat and mouse, Holly makes a mistake and Poe lands a tag on her.

“Ha! Tag! How's that feel?

Holly scoffs in frustration as they return to the starting points.

“Alright kids this is taking a while. Next point wins, free for all. Go!”

At first Holly has the upper hand and chases Poe across the sky. Both pilots maneuver their fighters through tight turns and large loops, trying to get the other in their sight.

Eventually Poe gets tired of being chased. It’s time to test his theory.

He makes sure Holly is still behind him before opening a private com channel to her.

“Ready for that special move?”

“Never gonna work, I’m gonna have to fish you out of the jungle after this,” she says confidently as she narrows in on him.

Poe grins under his helmet as he locks the brakes slamming the throttle back, cutting the thrusters off, killing the engine, and spinning around full force before tagging Holly and slamming the thrusters back on and shooting right past her. Spinning around 180 degrees and tagging her before she can even turn her head.

Holly’s frustrated yell can be heard as Poe whoops in celebration.

“Great flying kids, come back in for a landing. We need to talk,” Omega says into the coms.

“That's totally not the scariest phrase in the galaxy.”

“I’m sure you hear it a lot, Troublemaker,.”

“You know what, I'm gonna come up with a name for you and you are not gonna like it.”

“I'd love to see you try.”

The two continue to bicker as they come in for a landing, parking side by side.

Holly jumps out of the x-wing and holds her helmet to her side. She walks towards the two older women still sitting on crates, now the only spectators left.

“Ho-ly shit,” is all she can say as she shakes her hair out and joins Omega and Leia as the sun starts to envelope the room in a golden glow.

“I have to admit Aunt Mega, he is pretty good.You could make him great though,” Holly admits, grinning and giving Omega a hug.

“Not you too! Leia put you up to this didn't she?” Omega realizes she walked straight into a trap as Leia and Holly exchange a knowing look.

“Who, me? Conspire with our favorite General to make sure my Auntie stays here for a little while longer? I would never.” Holly keeps her eyes wide and pouty for Omega who can't help but laugh.

“You little shit, you lost on purpose didn't you?” Omega shakes her head as Poe lands and hops out of his own X-wing. He saunters over, helmet on his hip, winking at Holly as he joins the group.

“Seeing as I won and my nerfherder theory was correct, what’s my prize?”

Holly looks from the General to Poe smirking.

“Lessons with the best.”

“If the lessons are with you, Pretty girl I will never be late to class.”

“Pretty Girl. That's all you got?”

“You don't like it? How about—smart girl?”

“Funny, the lessons are with Auntie Mega. She’s the best around here.” Holly informs Poe who spins to look at a smug Omega who simply waves at him. Holly waves goodbye to the small group as she runs to escape Omega’s glare.

“Alright then, what kind of lessons are we having? You gonna teach me any more tricks? I like that spin, you got a name for it?” Poe questions Omega, rapid fire.

“First you are gonna go get cleaned up, then you are gonna meet me up on that cliff in 15 minutes. I need to destress after dealing with you children.”

With these words Omega turns headed towards the end of the hangar, ready to go to her special place. Her shadow long behind her as the sun continues its descent into the horizon.

[716chr]

Chihiro Natsuyaki Novel - “Choose Me!”

Track 3 - Semi-Final

From the apartment window, the sight of a setting sun could be seen.

My younger sisters, who were in elementary school, were still anxiously staring at the entrance.

Still dressed in my middle school uniform, I reassured them many times,

“It’s okay. If Mom doesn’t come home, your big bro will find us something to eat.”

But the truth is, even I was waiting for Mom’s return.

Once or twice a year, she’d come home in high spirits and say, “You must be hungry.”, while setting out bentos for us. I wished today was one of those days.

But since that seemed unlikely, I searched the kitchen shelves, only to end up with half-eaten cornflakes and furikake.

I sighed, realizing we were out of rice.

What should I even say to my little sisters? Not knowing what to do, I sat down on the kitchen floor and noticed the comic book I’d left on the shelf after I started reading it yesterday. Big sis got it from a used bookstore, and it’s now pretty worn out after being read for so many times.

It’s a manga where a Heisei-era gyaru is the main character, and it’s my most beloved book.

Upon opening it, I saw the life of a cheerful, energetic, and the strongest Heisei-era gyaru ever being depicted. Reading the story alone made me feel uplifted.

“She’s so cool….”

I muttered to myself unconsciously.

After all, the Heisei-era wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows, right? There were really tough times too. Yet, she gathered all the things she thought were sparkly, things she loves, and dressed up in her own style. Despite everything, she maintained an unbothered attitude as she continued to smile and flashed her signature peace sign.

The most powerful way of living.

I wish I could be like that too.

In my ears, the tune of a Heisei-era idol song starts playing. Humming along, I stood up, dance lightly and spin.

At that very moment, the small, dirty kitchen seemed to sparkle.

…..If I could become the ultimate gyaru-minded, dazzling idol, I wondered if everyone would love me then.

Those were my thoughts back then.

It was during the “13Choose!” audition.

Completely absorbed, almost nothing else was on my mind.

Only the routine of waking up early in the morning, intensely practicing singing and dancing, which dragged on until the dead of night.

Since our smartphones were confiscated, we were practically cut off from the outside world. Some kids even cried due to the anxiety.

We were constantly being judged by people, sometimes being chosen if lucky, and sometimes not if unlucky…..

No matter how hard I worked, I found myself endlessly swayed by the “likes” and “dislikes” of mere strangers, which caused my emotions to become increasingly pressured.

Once the show aired, surprisingly, I somehow survived multiple rounds of selection.

Maybe my pink hair stood out and caught people’s attention.

Despite comments made about me saying I was great at dancing, yet bad at singing, and just decent at rapping, I received more viewer votes I thought I would.

Although it was edited out, the trainers gave me their full support, for which I was really grateful for.

Now there are 33 contestants left. We’ve finally reached the semi-finals.

That day, the next mission was announced: Perform a cover of classic songs.

What's more, some of my favorite Heisei-era songs were included. And of course, I was overjoyed and picked my favorite song.

——If you can make it to the semi-finals, it’ll keep the show engaging.

At that time, the words the director said to me on our first meeting kept flashing in my mind.

I’ve already made it to the semi-finals.

In other words, I’m as good as expired goods from this point on.

That’s why I decided I’ll give it my all.

I wanted to be seen as worthy of being a finalist.

33 contestants were randomly divided into different groups to perform their songs.

Individual evaluations were important, but if the group didn’t win, there’d be no recognition whatsoever.

That’s why, I volunteered to be the group leader, even though it wasn't my strongest suit. I wanted to push myself to grow.

But there were still some others in my group who weren’t good at either dancing or singing.

“Are you just here to play?”

The cold words coming from the trainer on that day’s lesson chilled the atmosphere.

One person was scolded, and called out by name. It’s obvious from the looks of it that his face instantly turned pale in that moment.

Once the trainer left, the person who was scolded dashed out of the rehearsal room in tears.

Unable to ignore the situation, I, both as a leader and a friend, went after him. As I comforted him who was crying in the corner, hearing him uttered, 'I'm done, I give up,' nearly brought tears to my own eyes.

……I know how that feels; That feeling of wanting to give it all up.

Despite your best efforts to hold on, each day feels like a never-ending struggle filled with anxiety.

You can't help but imagine how much relief it would bring to just let it all go. It's agonizing to long for something that remains unattainable, no matter how badly you wish for it.

But even so…… Even so, I just can’t ignore this blazing feeling of not wanting to give up here, in this place.

“It’s okay. Just take it one step at a time, okay? I believe you can definitely make it. I’ll be here with you ‘til the end.”

To comfort him, I began listing off all the good qualities and traits he has. When I returned with the boy who had now stopped crying, the other group members looked at us worriedly.

With my resolves tightened, and as cheerfully as possible, I tried to quell everyone’s anxieties.

“So, as y’all already know, we’re doin’ a Heisei song this time, right? That’s why Chii’s here with a suggestion! How ‘bout we all dive into a Heisei gyaru mindset together? First, let’s give ourselves a good pep talk! When we can't do it and feel frustrated, who's the one we're most upset at? Ourselves, right? So let's get mad at ourselves first, and then let's cheer ourselves up!”

In front of everyone who’s still wearing cloudy expressions, I’ll take the lead and be the demonstration.

“Chihiro! Stop fucking around already! You’re absolutely useless yourself too! Don’t fucking think you can become an idol acting like that! You’re just a worthless scum who needs to push yourself harder!”

Facing the massive mirrors plastered on the wall of the practice room, I hurled insults at myself with everything I got. When I glanced back, the other members were taken aback. I laughed and kept going.

“But still, I'm thankful for all the effort you've given so far. I have faith in you. And you've got incredible groupmates there with you.”

I could see everyone’s eyes getting misty. I hope that my feelings could get across to them; that I, too, believe in them.

“Don’t give up, Chihiro! March on with a spartan mentality!”

After I finished my part, I gestured to the other members, urging them to go on ahead.

The guy who was crying just a moment ago inhaled sharply, and shouts at the mirror,

“Stop crying! Instead of wasting time crying, put in the effort! You can do so much better than this!”

After venting out his frustrations, his face brightened, and now he’s smiling, saying, “I’ll definitely get through this!”, as a form of self-encouragement.

Laughter broke out, and everyone gave themselves a good scolding. After that, we all praised and cheered each other up. By that point, everyone was already grinning. We shifted our mindset once again and focused entirely on our rehearsals.

Our performance was a success. Bonded by the strong ties we made during rehearsal, we challenged ourselves to surpass our limits in both dancing and singing.

Results are the reason for victory; if you win, those votes add up to your ratings.

We all embraced each other in celebration, and even Komu-kun, who’s from a different group, said, "I could tell that Chii and the others would win the moment I saw you guys perform."

I felt satisfied to have achieved this. It was as if every void in my heart had been filled for the first time.

I even felt that sense of fulfillment.

Until I watched the on-air broadcast.

——Stop fucking around already! You’re completely useless too!

What is this?

What on earth… am I watching right now?

I don’t understand any of this. On the screen, the footage showed me yelling and losing my temper.

It happened when the contestants were gathered in the hall to watch the program that recently aired.

Everyone was rattled when they watched the scene of me yelling.

The “Chihiro,” I said before I started yelling, was edited out.

The member who ran out of the rehearsal room crying after being scolded by the trainer was edited to make it seem like he ran out because I yelled at him.

The boy in question, who was sitting nearby, looked at me in panic. The other members whom I went through the same challenge with turned to look at me, and called out worriedly, “Chihiro….”.

I could only smile warmly and reassure them with my gaze.

Because……. I’m their leader, after all.

But truthfully, my mind was a mess. My heart was pounding and I felt like throwing up. It felt like raw hostility and malice were suddenly being rained on me.

They gave us back our phones for an hour after the broadcast. We’re allowed to check social media, but posting was a no-go.

Breaking the rules is an immediate ticket home. So I can’t even post to say, “That was a misunderstanding.”

If I can't defend myself, it’s best if I don’t look at it.

That was what I planned, but after locking myself in my room alone, I ended up giving in and went on an ego-search.

I knew. I knew it well, even before looking, that it would be a huge disaster.

My personal SNS account was flooded with a massive amount of hate and abusive comments.

“Low-life”, “Scum”, “Kill yourself”, “We don’t need power-harassing idols like you”, “So you were actually a piece of shit”, “Not gonna support you anymore”, ……

Everything in front of me began to spin.

Why? Why was it edited like that?

…..Was it because I’m no longer needed after the semi-finals?

My heart pounded so fast that it hurts.

My breathing became shallow, and I felt like I’m going to collapse at any moment.

As I crouched on the floor, I desperately comforted myself.

——Stay strong, Chihiro. Don’t let this break you, Chihiro……

The me on TV was just a fake.

A version of me edited for convenience. A false image created by the director.

……That’s right, Chihiro Natsuyaki is still safe and sound.

It’s “Chii” that everyone hates.

An alert sounded in the hall, signaling the time to collect our smartphones.

Knowing being late will lead to a penalty, I slowly rise to my feet.

I mentally urge myself to switch it up, switch gears.

After leaving my smartphone in the basket in the main hall, Komu-kun started talking to me in front of the fixed camera.

“Chii….. Are you okay?”

They're filming us right now, right? We’re clearly reflected in the camera lenses, right?

I knew he was genuinely worried about me, but I couldn’t help but wonder why he chose this place to ask.

I only smiled brightly and threw out a peace sign.

“Absolute~ly! Chii would say he’s feelin’ super duper hyped with all this attention he’s gettin’, y’know? Feelin’ totes Very Lucky right now~!”

Aware of the camera's presence, I folded my arms and wondered out loud, "Did I go overboard back there?”

“Since it’s a Heisei song that Chii got mad respect for, the ‘Chii’ vibes just couldn’t be contained at all, oopsie ♪”

Playfully pressing my fist to my forehead and sticking my tongue out.

This isn’t me. This is "Chii."

It’s "Chii," so people could think whatever they want.

That‘a what I thought.

With the mindset of the ultimate gyaru, Chii can sparkle and smile brightly, and because of that,

——He’d never get hurt, no matter what.

Track 1 | Track 2 | Track 3 | Track 4 | Track 5

[createyourownnarrative]

Usually I try not to post too much about Long Covid on my regular FB feed. I’ve learned to just not do it. It’s best I save those posts for my support groups where I can get the support I need from people going through the same struggle.

But I need to get this off my chest.

I always knew I wanted to be an artist. I dabbled in many mediums over the years, photography, music, painting, film/media, writing, I’ve made sculptures. I truly enjoy expressing myself through various art forms, and connecting with others through that.

In 2010-2011, after years of working job after job trying to find my passion (when most of my friends were already college graduates with direction) and feeling a little lost, in the retail industry, I put my foot down, went back to school and chose a medium, & decided to pursue THAT. One medium I truly always loved: Photography. In 2012, I exhibited my work for the first time. In 2020 I opened up my first photo studio. A creative space where I can share and make memories. 1 month later, a global pandemic overturns our worlds and realities. I never would have imagined, that, in our lifetime. You just don’t think it could happen to you (to us). But it did. It’s still so surreal to me.

I got sick with Covid twice. I knew some people who had covid over 4-8 times. I had it twice. It only took that first bout with the virus to completely change my life. My body. My mind. My worries. My perspective. My whole world. And my future. I thought I almost had it figured out, my path, my plans, my goals. What I wanted to do, and where I wanted to go. Who I wanted to be. Now i’m grateful that I make it through my day, without collapsing. (which has happened and was very scary). My last two photography jobs, I couldn’t feel my hands. It’s why I’ve been so inactive, since I got sick. Whats going to happen when I can’t take pictures anymore?

When I tested positive for the first time, I cried in the cab ride home. I was beyond terrified. What will this mean? Will I survive this? What is going to happen. I thought if I can get through the virus and live, that’s all I could want. Some months before, I had lost a high school friend, a fellow musician, to Coronavirus. He was only 32 years old. We didn’t know what would happen. Who was at risk of death. After 9 or 10 days, with the virus. I tested negative, and returned to work. Feeling good, that I survived. Especially after day 4, when I woke up gasping for air in the night. I feared I wouldn’t wake up. I got blamed for testing positive by people around me. It was “my fault”. For “not being careful”. I felt so alienated. After I returned to work, I was preparing to move, packing, organizing, purging. One day, I could not get out of bed. And strange heavy symptoms. I thought I had Covid again. Of course the test came back negative.

But I would never be the same again. I never fully recovered from getting sick. Stuck back in 2020.

Do you know what it’s like? I see the world moving on. Almost like it never happened. Our government lying and covering up facts/truth. We are still sick. Still here. 18 million people in America are still sick with Post Covid syndrome. I’m left to feel like it’s my fault..I’m to blame. Because I “didn’t take care of myself.” Would you say that to someone with cancer? Or fibromyalgia? Or heart problems? Or Alzheimer’s? Or diabetes? Or any other illness? The stigma I’m (and we are) facing is unreal. People don’t believe me when I say “I still can’t taste and smell” and that I’m chronically ill now. “You don’t look sick”. “It’s because you party too much”. “you’re getting older” “it’s all those long nights you work on your feet”. I’ve heard it all. “But I see you at the bar working”. I have to work. There is no disability, go fund me, or assistance. I have to pay my rent. On my own. So I need to work. But just because you see me, at work, doesn’t mean I’m well. It just means I’m pushing myself to stay alive. It’s been true torture working through all this. I mourn and grieve for weeks and months at a time. It hasn’t stopped. It took me a long time, to accept that this is not going away anytime soon.

And my heart is broken. I feel left out in the rain. By our leaders, scientists, doctors, friends I thought I had. There is no community support. Even if someone believes you’re sick. No funding/fundraisers for LC. There is no cure, no pill, no treatment, no progress in finding treatment or biomarkers in the body to be able to even test for LC. The unpredictability of it. The symptoms. It’s really been torturous. Torture. A true nightmare. Having to sit in the shower so I don’t fall. Or hit my head (again) Doubling heart rate just upon standing. I get winded just talking and singing karaoke. I forget everything now. I slur my speech, sober. Tremors like Parkinsonism. My memory loss and constant issues feel like dementia-brain fog. I forget how to spell now. my hands turn purple red and blue when I step out of the shower. Migraines that last for months. Months. I take Tylenol like it’s medication. Neuropathy, nerve pain, nerve itches, tingling and numbness. My body temperature can’t regulate, so I often am cold and hot simultaneously. How do you remedy that? The discomfort and distress I feel is unbearable. Loosing clumps of hair. My hair is greying more and more rapidly post covid. Brittle nails. Skin issues. Digestive issues. Eye problems. Cognitive difficulties. Joint pain. Muscle pain. Muscle atrophy. Weakness. Severe severe fatigue. Almost like you worked out at the gym, full body then took a benadryl. Every. Fucking. Day. I’m tired of being so fucking tired. Before Covid, people would always have to tell me to slow down. Working full time, school, internships, photography, going to the gym full time. I always took on so much. I had so much energy and drive. It was a fire in me.

Now it’s gone. A piece of me has died, undoubtedly. And I question everything now. Most days I’m afraid to leave my house. And don’t. Unless it’s to work. If I do leave my house, it’s because I’m pushing myself, and I’m not well. My anxiety and depression are much worse. Chronic illness has also taken its toll on my mental health. It’s been draining trying to keep up with the world. I feel left behind. I’m not only mourning my health, and my abilities, but my passion in life, the one thing I worked so hard for. My future. And Photography. What do I do, if I can’t create anymore? What purpose do I have?

No one believes me, or think LC exists. And if I don’t “show up”, it’s because “she’s a flake”. I’m in such a dark place you may never understand. How do I navigate this life? Being sick every day.