#i’m sorry i’m having an epiphany here

[emotionaldisaster909]

okay why-

Why

Is Xie Lian

So gorgeous

Any time I pause

[o-wild-west-wind]

there’s something about how Stede crossing out DEAD and circling ALIVE on the wanted poster like the silly little lover he is manages to be, like…the heart and thesis of the show all in one.

it’s baffling. it’s goofy. it’s a bit sad. it’s optimistic, despite. it’s love in action. it’s earnest beyond belief.

and—quite literally—it’s choosing live.

[skeleton-beneath-this-skin]

My profile picture is a chibi Takeshi with bunny ears…I drew that…

LIFE IS BEAUTIFUL.

[forlix]

· . ˚ 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲'𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞

— the moments in which the members of stray kids realize how they truly feel about you.

words・1.4k / pairings・ot8 x gn!reader / warnings・depictions of conflict and anxiety in hyunjin's and han's / genres・domestic fluff, smidges of hurt/comfort, established relationships

a/n・thought i'd try out a new fic format :-) i had so much fun writing these and hope you like reading them just as much. any and all feedback is appreciated, as always!

chan is in a heated staring contest with his notepad when the door opens, and he knows that it’s you who comes in, but his head is miles away, tangled in an amalgamation of syllables and rhythms. he goes on to forget that you’re here for a short while, poring over the unfinished lyrics in front of him with undivided focus. that is, until he feels a gentle hand on his shoulder.

you’ve just pulled a chair up next to his desk. “lemme see,” you say, gesturing to the notepad. there’s a surprised pause, and then chan places it in your hand, scoots closer to you.

you spend the next two hours talking him through his block, but there are periods when you fall silent to brainstorm or to write something down, and chan takes those quiet opportunities just to look at you: wearing one of his old t-shirts, your hair still damp from your shower, completely concentrated. and he knows, then, that he wants to marry you.

minho doesn’t realize he loves you in a singular moment. rather, he has a faint inkling for some time, and then the rug is randomly pulled from beneath his feet, and all of a sudden he can’t remember a version of his world that didn't have you at its center.

there are times when he’s especially aware of his feelings, though. like when he throws a witty remark in your direction and your retort comes back twice as sharp. when your eyes and smile light up like lanterns as you talk to him about your passions. when one (or all) of his cats hover at your side as you go about your day. when he returns home after a grueling practice and you’re there to offer him your comfort, no matter his withdrawn demeanor or sweaty skin.

he is a quiet lover, and sometimes he worries that he’s too quiet, that you have no idea what’s going on inside him every time he looks at you. but words have never really been necessary with minho. you know. you just do.

changbin is greeted by a chilly breeze when he emerges from the gym, and he silently chastizes himself for forgetting to bring an outer layer yet again. but the temperature moves to the back of his mind when he spots you, waiting on the sidewalk, as you said you would. a familiar grin breaks across your face when you see him, and he feels its shape against his lips when he runs over and kisses you, in lieu of hello.

“what are you feeling for dinner?” you ask once he’s pulled away, and he realizes that you’ve pressed something to his chest: one of the hoodies that he keeps at your place, still soft and warm from just coming out of the dryer. and boom—the epiphany hits him, instantly and unequivocally.

he is dumbfounded for a moment, just processing the newfound discovery; and then, out of nowhere, the two of you say the name of the same restaurant at the same time. he swears he never believed in soulmates until he met you.

hyunjin has always held so many emotions in his heart so fervently, to the point that they sometimes overflow in the form of words that he doesn’t believe, in a tone that he doesn’t intend. and it happened again today, when he spoke to you the wrong way in a moment of pure impulse, and the surprise on your face morphed into poorly-disguised hurt.

a few hours later, the weight of his actions sits heavily on his shoulders. when he lifts his phone to call you, his hands are shaking a little, and a breathy apology spills from his lips the moment he hears you on the other end: “i’m sorry, angel. i’m trying, i promise. i really am.” to which you answer, “i know, hyune. i forgive you. we’ll keep trying together, okay?” and your words pull his heartstrings in a new direction entirely.

he asks if he can come over, you say yes, and he tells you he loves you as soon as you open the door. he’s done hiding his heart from you.

jisung’s contagious grin and raucous cackle come easily to him for the most part, but there are times when he forgets how it feels to laugh or to breathe, times when he wants only to hide from the world and all of its scariest parts. and when you see his figure in the doorway tonight, his face cast in a nameless shadow, his shoulders sunken in quiet defeat, you understand immediately that this is one of those times.

“do you wanna talk about it?” you ask as he approaches you. silently, he shakes his head: not tonight. but his body language asks for what he cannot verbalize. you extend your arms toward him, and he buries himself in them the second he’s close enough to, his face nestling the crook of your neck, the tension in his limbs melting at your gentle touch. you stay there for a long time, rubbing circles between his shoulder blades, coaxing him back to the ground, back to you.

wherever he chooses to hide, he thinks he’d like to take you with him.

when felix opens his eyes, the space in the bed next to him is empty, and the faint scent of flour and sugar wafts through the gap beneath his door.

he gets to his feet, throws on some clothes, and wanders in the direction of the smell, rubbing the sleep from his eyes—and the sight that awaits him makes him wonder if he’s still dreaming. you’re standing at the stove, still in your pajamas, hair slightly disheveled from your rest, and there are pancakes in the frying pan before you; sliced strawberries on the cutting board next to the stove. and the look of sheer focus on your face, as if staring at the pancakes will cook them faster, absolutely destroys him. (and he knows in that moment that he wants to wake up to you for the rest of his life.)

with an enamored smile, he wraps his arms around your waist, pulls your back to his chest, and presses a light kiss to the nape of your neck. “morning, beautiful,” he mumbles sweetly. “how fucking lucky am i?”

being around you makes seungmin feel like a kid with a crush. he smiles brighter and laughs louder. he opens like a lotus in bloom when you say his name. the floaty sensation he gets when you kiss his cheek or hold his hand persists for hours afterward—and none of it makes any fucking sense to him. it’s not that he doesn’t believe in love, but he’s never believed that love could feel like this, straight out of a sonnet.

now, your head is on his shoulder, your body rising and falling in your slumber. seungmin looks at your interlocked hands where they rest on his knee, and at the current track displayed on his lockscreen: “still” by day6, a song about losing and loving, about regret and reminiscence. those bright days between us are over, the lyrics go, and he makes a silent promise to your sleeping form that the bright days between the two of you will never end.

the word "love" still doesn't cross his mind, but it is etched all over his face, and carved into his soul.

you and jeongin are telling each other about your days over dinner when your phone lights up with an incoming call, and he nearly spits out his mouthful when he sees who it’s from. for a few seconds, the two of you just stare at each other in flabbergasted silence. but then, you raise your phone to your ear: “hi, grandma! to what do i owe this pleasure?”

and the voice of his grandmother comes back through the receiver. she tells you that she’s just gone on an evening walk and found herself thinking of you, so she wanted to see how you’re doing; if you’re taking care of yourself. you rush to thank her, looking entirely flustered, and a bit like you’re about to burst into tears.

with that, the two of you launch into chatter about everything under the sun: grocery store discounts, the recent humidity, jeongin’s bad habits, you name it. and it finally dawns on jeongin how inextricably embedded in his life you have become—and that he doesn’t want it any other way.

𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤? please consider reblogging, commenting, or sending me an ask to let me know; or, read my other writing here. thanks so much for the support ♡

© 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐱 (est. 090323) · all works are pieces of original writing and all characters and relationships are purely fictional. please do not repost or reuse for any reason.

[official-linguistics-post]

Sorry you’re still fighting the good fight vis a vis “chat isn’t a pronoun.” I had a mini epiphany to get closer to wrapping my head around it, so I figured I’d share and you can correct me if I’m wrong.

Like. You talk to chat. You talk to your bro. And you’ll say “chat, which of these games should I play?” But if it was a pronoun that would just be…. Really weird? Like if I’m talking to someone I don’t use their pronoun I use their name or something like “bro”.

I know that the same collection of sounds/letters could be two separate types of words (like dust the noun and dust the verb) but I’m assuming that’s not what’s happening here.

Anyway love your blog! I wish it could just be fun linguistics stuff instead of having to constantly fight lies but here we are.

yeah if i had to boil it down VERY simply i guess i could go with:

a pronoun replaces a noun. what noun is "chat" replacing?

(the answer is none, because chat IS the noun.)

[avis-writeshq]

heyyy omg I love your writings so much! congrats on your latest milestone, it's DESERVED 👏 can I pls request track one with spencer reid where he gets an epiphany and decides that he wants to propose to his girlfriend? just superrrr cute and fluffy 😍 thanks a lot!!

glue song – spencer reid

summary: “but you’re here, and so i love you.” in which spencer realises that he wants to spend the rest of his life with you. pairing: s5!spencer reid x fem!reader genre: established relationship, fluff warnings: spencer in a knee brace (tell me why that’s attractive. why does he look good at his worst. face card never declines), he’s genuinely obsessed with you, not proof read oops a/n: thank you so much anon !!!! i’m so sorry it took so long to post; i kept changing and editing it hahaha i hope you enjoy it !! wc: 1.05k

“Careful watch your– no, pivot a little, pivot–” 

“I am pivoting! There’s nowhere to pivot to! Why is it so messy?”

You suppress a grimace as you manage to somehow squeeze your way through Spencer’s tiny doorway and into his apartment, the shoe rack on the side dangerously close to his damaged knee. You stumble a little as Spencer grips your shoulders tightly for support, his other hand holding onto a crutch. 

“Maybe we should move into a bigger apartment,” you muse, helping him to the couch. Your gaze shifts to his injured knee, your face falling. “Does it hurt?”

“Only when I think about it. Which is pretty much all the time,” Spencer says, wincing as he finally collapses against the cool leather cushions. “Thank you for doing this.”

You look almost offended at his words as you brush his hair out of his face and into a makeshift ponytail. “Did you think that I wouldn’t?”

He hums as he feels the way your fingers pull lightly at his hair, your nails scraping against his scalp. “Thought you’d get tired of me. After, you know, everything.”

“None of that was your fault,” you remind him swiftly. “This–” you gesture to his knee– “isn’t either.”

He softens, leaning his cheek on your shoulder. You’ve been there for him through everything and he knows what specifically it is you’re referring to. He could see it from the moment his doctors informed you that he wouldn’t take the vicodin they had prescribed to him to soothe his discomfort. His thought process makes sense; he didn’t want to risk it. Regardless, he was left with a growing pain in his leg that didn’t shake even after taking toradol. 

“I’d never get tired of you,” you clarify, squeezing his hands. “You’re too pretty to get tired of.”

He lets out a proper laugh as he squeezes back. “You’re funny.”

“I’m being serious!”

He laughs again, shaking his head adamantly. “Liar.”

“When have I ever lied to you?”

Spencer beams in your direction, pressing kisses against the soft of your jaw. “You’re right.”

A triumphant smile spreads across your face at his words. “Exactly.”

*** 

From his spot on the couch, Spencer watches guiltily as you hustle and bustle about in the kitchen, grabbing plates and filling them to the brim with the food you ordered from the Chinese place he loves. He feels bad seeing you work so hard looking after him; especially when you have your own workload to take care of. He doesn’t even notice that you’ve already placed his portion of food in front of him until you whack him lightly on his head with some napkins. 

“Stop it. I know what you’re thinking.” You shoot him a half-hearted glare as you snap open your chopsticks. “I want to do this. I truly don’t mind.”

“You’re already doing so much,” he insists, “I’m okay, angel, I swear.”

You are not easily convinced and you point to the list of things the doctor suggested you to do in order to ensure Spencer’s speedy recovery. “I have a responsibility, Walter. What will your team do without you?”

“They’ll live,” he assures, reaching a hand out to massage the muscles by your shoulders. “I think you’ve seen me naked more the past two weeks than you have our entire relationship.”

“Well it’s not my fault that you need to bathe,” you argue, stabbing at your noodles. “You love it really.”

His cheeks burn with embarrassment at the accusation. “I do not! It’s humiliating.”

“It’s nothing I haven’t seen before,” you soothe, smiling at him. “Besides, it’ll only be like this for a little while longer.”

“If you consider five months to be ‘a little while longer’,” he quips as he shovels food into his mouth.

You let out a laugh, not finding offence is his sarcastic blow. He thinks you’re a blessing and he figures that you definitely are. Who else can deal with the problems of him being, well, him aside from you? Spencer doesn’t know what he would do without you. How could he when you manage to push all the darkness and negativity away?

“I’m lucky to have you,” he says finally, his gaze on your face. “You’re so good to me.”

You hum in response, wiping your mouth and curling into his good side, draping an arm over his middle. “That’s true. You’re good to me, too.”

He brings his hand over your waist and kisses the side of your face in an act of reciprocation. “You’re beautiful.”

Heat crawls up your neck to your ears at the sudden compliment and you can’t help the silly bashful smile that pulls at your lips. Your mouth opens and closes, deciding on what to respond with before you settle with a simple, “Thank you.”

It’s the honest truth. There’s a look about you that tells him that you don’t believe it, but he doesn’t say anything more to try and convince you. He tells it to you everyday; he’s sure that you’ll end up accepting the compliments more readily. Your being beautiful might have been what had drawn him to you in the first place. Although he isn’t entirely sure. He recalls a certain folktale about invisible stings and how it was tying him to you. There’s something pretty about that thought, the mere idea that you were made for him and he was lucky enough to actually hold you in his arms. 

You’ve turned the television on now, a romance movie playing on the screen with familiar actors. It’s supposed to be a comedy, at least that was what the description on the DVD said, about the main male lead reminiscing about his year that he spent with some manic pixie dream girl. Spencer doesn’t understand how that could be comedic but you seem to enjoy it. 

Spencer has tuned out the movie now, finding entertainment in the reactions you have. Your face morphs into different emotions with each dramatic scene and in that moment Spencer realises one very important thing. 

“I’m gonna marry you one day,” he whispers, his breath tickling the shell of your ear. 

“What was that?” you ask obliviously and you lift your eyes to look up at him. 

“Nothing,” he dismisses, pressing his lips to your forehead. “Just keep watching the movie, angel.”

reblogs are always appreciated!

events page

[delirious-donna]

Morning Epiphany [Higuruma Hiromi]

an: cockwarming with Hiromi was suggested to me when I opened my requests/ideas for this wonderful man and I immediately leapt on it because YES!

pairing: Higuruma Hiromi x female reader

warnings: cockwarming, reader being the teeniest bit mean to poor Hiro, whining and whimpering from the lawyer…

Masterlist

“Hiro… it’s so early, why are you in here?”

The sun had barely begun to crest, the earliest rays warming the bedspread that was surprisingly empty. A hand reaching out to your husband’s side confirmed the first stirring of your consciousness, he wasn’t here, and if he wasn’t here then there were only two places he could be.

Despite the lure of sleep trying to coax you back into the cozy haze of dreams, you couldn’t possibly sleep when your other half was missing, and so early too. The blinking lights of the alarm clock signalled the hour and helped to push your feet to the rug by the bed, stretching and pouting.

The bathroom was empty, there was no remnant of steam from the scalding hot showers he took every morning and you scowled at your dishevelled reflection in the mirror. Your hair stuck up at odd angles, eyes puffy from how quickly you got out of bed and your sleepshirt—an old well-worn sweatshirt of Hiromi’s—was creased beyond belief.

Your steps took you towards the office and the scent of freshly brewed coffee that wafted enticingly into your nose. The door creaked on antique hinges, your missing man turning with his brow furrowed from having his concentration broken. The expression shifted into a smile almost immediately, a sheepish smile at that.

“Did I wake you? I didn’t mean to,” he apologised sincerely, settling back in his chair to stretch his arms up and over his head. The wide sleeves of his black t-shirt, now faded to grey at best, pushed back and your eyes dipped to the hint of black happy trail that peeked from beneath the hem with a sigh of appreciation.

Hiromi couldn’t help but chuckle. Hastily he fixed his face with a look of admonishment, one sleek eyebrow rising near to his hairline. “Eyes up here, Mrs Higuruma.”

“Sorry—wait. Why am I apologising? It’s the arse crack of dawn, what are you doing up let alone working?”

His eyes drooped, nervously fidgeting with the pen on his desk.

Before he could respond, you grabbed the back of his chair and scooted it out further from the desk to his confusion. The lines wrinkling his forehead smoothed out when your knee bracketed his hip, followed by the other until you sat straddling his lap. Your fingers ran through the limp strands of the hair hanging near into his eyes, humming at the glorious warmth of his body melding into yours.

“Epiphany moment?” Hiromi offered uncertainly. He was too preoccupied by the soft squish of your hips and backside, hands full of the meat of you, and desperately trying to will his cock not to harden any further. To his disappointment and your triumph, he was failing miserably.

You planted teasing kisses to his jawline, barely-there touches of your lips until you were decorating his throat and prominent Adam’s apple with wet little marks. “Don’t let me stop you, Hiro… you can pretend I’m not here. I’ll be as quiet as a mouse.”

He dropped his chin, staring at you with suspicious disbelief. Swallowing thickly when you offered your best most innocent looking smile, laying your cheek on his shoulders and drawing one of his hands away from where he was pawing at your rump. “Work, if that’s what you want to do.”

Hiromi groaned and looked skyward as if some answer would arrive if he begged for it hard enough. He knew this game well enough, and not once had he won. He didn’t fancy his odds on this particular day either.

It started out fairly uneventful. Hiromi managed to refocus his attention towards the computer screen and the ruling he had been in the middle of reading when you appeared, but soon enough the words no longer made sense. Your fingertips grazed his chest, delicate scrapes of your nails across the cotton hiding his nipples and it was maddeningly distracting.

Instead of calling it out, knowing it would only result in you doubling down your efforts, he exhaled through his nose and shifted in his seat to give some respite to the erection chafing the waistband of his pyjama trousers. Immediately, he knew it was the wrong move. Your pelvis sunk closer to him, rubbing more friction into his aching length and he swore he could smell your arousal hanging heavy in the air.

He did his best to ignore your naughty fingers moving between you, to pretend you weren’t pulling him free and playing in the mess of precum leaking from his tip. His fingers tightened around the mouse in his hand, the sound of plastic groaning from the onslaught of pressure enough to make him blink and loosen his hold.

“You will be the death of me, love.”

The loose fist around his shaft paused. “Keep working or I’ll go back to bed… alone.” You were slick with arousal, the lack of panties leaving a dark stain on the crotch of Hiromi’s pyjamas that didn’t go unnoticed by either of you. The temptation to lift to your knees and sink down onto his cock was building, but you couldn’t reward him so readily for his leaving you in bed this morning. Not until he was a little more desperate, and by the hue of the rash at his neck and dappling of his cheeks, there was still a little ways to go.

Hiromi was failing fast, and he knew you were waiting to pounce and worsen his predicament. Worsen was hardly the right term given how eager he was to be swallowed by your plush velvet-lined walls, but since you were insistent that he continue to work, he wasn’t going to be rewarded until he did. The pen scratched across the surface of his notepad, the ink drying in shaky lines whilst you cupped his balls and rolled them between your fingers and thumb. Honestly, he wasn’t even sure what he was writing made sense but if it gave the illusion of cooperation, he’d write utter gibberish all day long.

You held out as long as you could manage, the burning desire palpable on the dewy apples of your cheek and the heat of your breasts hidden beneath your husband’s sweatshirt. At long last you teased his pulsing cock between your folds, tapping the sticky cockhead against your pert little clit and finally lining him up at your entrance. The muscles contracted around him, that first inch a delicious stretch that pushed you to your limits not to slam right down to his fat balls and cry out from the bliss.

The descent was drawn out, testing your patience and resolve to the limits, as well as forcing stuttering breaths out of Hiromi’s heaving chest. You didn’t chastise the return of his hands, the adoration sweeping through his palms as they raised the hem of your sweatshirt so he could see himself disappearing into your pussy. He fisted the fabric, grasping at your hips with eyes heavy with lust and you simply had to taste him, even only for a moment.

Your lips crashed atop his, tongue licking over the seam of his bottom lip and pressing into his mouth to swallow the whine that crawled from his throat. It echoed inside your head, the urge to roll your hips over and over until he filled your belly with his seed burned like a white-hot flame. Your skin itched, fingers curled into claws that dove into Hiromi’s thick head of hair and you nearly didn’t break your kiss, nearly were consumed by the passion you felt in your heart.

“Hmmmpff.” Hiromi wailed when you finally came to some semblance of your senses, your pelvis flush against his but no longer moving. He stared at you in longing, watching whilst you swiped a finger over your kiss-swollen lips and sucked the remnants of his spit from the pad. The smile you offered was purely saccharine, and his throat itched with the need to bounce you on his cock until you gushed all over him and the chair.

“Please?” He asked on a whisper, aquiline nose nudging into your cheek.

“You have your epiphany moment to deal with mister lawyer, c’mon… you can last a little longer. Let me warm you and once I’m satisfied, I’ll ride you until your legs want to give out,” you purred, mouth at the shell of his ear and leaving a kiss at the bone just behind.

Silently, he begged and pleaded for mercy on his tainted soul, as if some divine intervention was likely to intercept, he knew that wouldn’t be the case. You were the only divine deity in his world and your determination to give him a taste of his own medicine for abandoning the sacred ritual of morning cuddles was written across your features.

A sweat broke out across his brow as he studied the lines of text on the screen without recognising a single word. A drip of arousal dribbled from the spot you united, dribbling over the seam of his balls to stain the leather seat beneath. You clenched, and he crushed the pen in his hand, palm filled with tiny plastic shards that speared his skin.

“Darling… light of my life—I will do anything, anything, if you’ll just ride me,” he whimpered, discarding the busted pen and grabbing up your hands to kiss earnestly across your fingertips then knuckles. Hiromi was barely restraining the buck of his hips, the warmth almost too much wrapped around his dick but without the friction and rhythm of movement… it wasn’t enough.

Your resolve was being tested once more. The subtle wobble of his lower lip and the sincere longing in his whisky-smoked eyes cracked the shell of your conviction. Easing forward in one languid roll of your hips earned you the most delightful and pitiful whimper you had heard in a long time. His head fell back against the headrest of his chair, eyes screwed shut whilst you felt him twitch within your walls. He might just cum like this if you didn’t do something, and actually, you wouldn’t mind that in the slightest.

Never more had you enjoyed cockwarming Hiromi than at this moment, and you vowed to draw it out as long as he could endure.

“Fuck, Hiro… you feel so good. So warm and snug,” you cooed, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and nuzzling into him more. “Five more minutes…”

[talktonytome]

For @meibhin who requested bucktommy first christmas together, hope you like this take!

“So, what Christmas traditions did you have growing up?” Evan asks him. He’s already typing in the notes app of his phone and Tommy shakes his head fondly. It’s their first Christmas together and Evan’s determined to make it perfect. 

Tommy doesn’t tell him that as long as they get to be together, it will be perfect for him. He thinks back to the Christmases of his childhood, bouncing back and forth between his parents, getting stuck at the airport the one time and it being oddly happy, because at least there was no yelling and a nice family who got stuck in the storm adopted him for the night and gifted him an airplane book from the airport bookstore. 

He blows out a breath through his nose. “Holidays weren’t exactly… happy occasions growing up.” He shrugs trying to play it off, but Evan gives him a look that says he understands. There’s no pity or “I’m sorry”, just love and understanding. 

“Do you have any happy Christmas memories? What about your extended family, there must be something right?” 

Tommy thinks for a minute and is transported to holidays at his nonna’s. He hardly spent actual Christmas Day there, but his mom would take him for epifania. They’d get there the day before, along with all the cousins and everyone would find presents the next morning. He can still feel the warmth from those days and smell the aroma from his nonna’s kitchen, from her special sauce that she spent all day making. 

“Well, not Christmas, exactly,” he finally says. “But, we would go over to nonna’s for The Feast of Epiphany on January 6th- you know when the three wise men visited Jesus?”

Evan nods, waiting for him to continue, mouthing the words feast of epiphany as he taps on his phone.

“We’d get there the day before and the adults would prepare for La Befana. It’s this sort of folklore tradition of a benevolent witch, basically, who flies around January 5th and leaves presents and sweets for us to find the next day.” Tommy laughs, “I don’t wanna brag, but I usually got the best candy.” 

“Of course you did,” Evan grins. Who could look at that cute face and not give you the best? That sounds fun, by the way.” 

Tommy shrugs. “It was. After my parents divorced, we went over less and less and my extended family doesn’t live around here so I’m not sure if my cousins still do it for their children.”

Evan perks up with a wide smile on his face. He knows he’s not a golden retriever but god, sometimes he does these little things and it makes Tommy feel unbearably fond.

“Why don’t we do that for the kids here? Denny, Chris, Mara, Jee? We could get May and Harry to help, if they feel like they’re too old for it.” He claps his hands excitedly. “Oh! We can throw a sleepover, make s’mores and hot chocolate, watch movies..” He trails off, looking hesitantly at Tommy. “Sorry, I kinda got carried away, I mean we don’t have to— 

Tommy shushes him with the soft press of a finger to his lips. “I love it, baby. Let’s do it.”

Evan’s smile is bright and lovely as he leans into kiss him between his finger. “Yeah?”

“Heck yeah. We need to maintain our status as favorite uncles, after all,” Tommy grins. 

Evan’s Christmas playlist plays softly in the background, as Tommy thinks about this and many holidays to come with their family, the food and joy and maybe even the smells of his own tomato sauce permeating their home. He can’t wait. 

[kdogreads]

You’re My Peace

Chef Luca x f!reader

TW: angsty Luca (before his Carmy epiphany), hurt/comfort-ish, cursing, established relationship

AN: I just love him 🥹 lmk what else reader x Luca should get up to! Thank you for reading 🫶

You weren’t sure what time it was when you finally heard the front door to your apartment open. You’d been in bed for an hour or two, but you couldn’t sleep without Luca softly snoring next to you, looking like your own personal Adonis even in his sleep.

He started rustling around in the kitchen as soon as the door shut, so you decided you’d get up and see what he was doing. Plus, you needed to know why he wasn’t coming to bed.

“Baby, what’s going on?” You ask groggily, startled that every light was on in the kitchen in the middle of the night, “Are you alright?”

“Sorry, my love, didn’t mean to wake you,” He stepped over to you and pecked a soft kiss into your forehead before turning back to the counter.

You stood in silence a moment, trying to make sense of all the utensils and plates Luca was pulling out of the cabinets at 1:30 — no, 1:33, you noticed — in the morning. He’d already been gone all day at school, putting in hours more than required.

“Baby,” You sighed and closed the gap between you, gently grabbing his face and making him look down at you, “Can’t it wait ‘til tomorrow? You have to be tired, Lu.”

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, leaning over you so his lungs filled with the scent of your coconut shampoo. His lips pressed into the top of your head for a moment before he started to speak.

“I’ll be 10 minutes, love, I promise,” He kissed your forehead again, “Then I’ll come to bed.”

You let out a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding, “Jesus, Luca, come on.”

You stepped back as his hands began reaching for the spice cabinet. He shot you an apologetic look before he started grabbing things off the shelf.

“I know, baby, it’s just that Carmy, ah, the bloke I’ve been telling you about-,” He rambled as you searched for any more patience left in your body, “-yeah, he made this, uh, this dish today and I’ve almost got it down—.”

His voice trailed off as he kept opening cabinets and drawers, pulling more spoons and bowls and testing your resilience all the while.

“Luca, please, it’s late—,” You started.

“Really, love, just 10 more minutes.”

“Luca—,” He kept moving, clearly not sensing your impending implosion.

“Baby, come on,” You tried one last time before you couldn’t keep your volume down anymore, “Luca!”

He instantly dropped the wooden spoon in his hand, turning his full attention to you. He never raised his voice at you, and you’d never yelled at him.

“Please, baby, listen to me,” You started softly, stroking his broad shoulders with a gentle touch, “You know how much I want this for you, and I love you so damn much for your dedication, but I need you to be here when you are here.”

Luca let out a shaky breath, his warm hands reaching up to cup your face tenderly. His slender fingers reached into your hair and pulled you up towards him, pressing his lips into yours in a slow, languid kiss.

He leaned back slightly, far enough to slide his right hand down to his chest, clutching it into a fist and circling his heart. I’m sorry.

You mirrored his motions, dropping your hand down to circle your own heart with a bit more fervor. I’m sorry, too.

You held each other’s gaze for a long moment until Luca closed his eyes and leaned his head into your shoulder. His arms wrapped tightly around your waist and pulled you to him like he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go.

Your own arms drifted around his just as tight. One hand was tangled in his messy curls while the other drew pictures absentmindedly onto his back.

“I just thought I could be the best, thought I was the best,” Luca spoke into your neck, his muscles relaxing as your hands danced over them, “And realizing I’m not, that I never can be, it’s just—.”

“A lot,” You finish for him, helping him not have to think.

“A lot,” He mirrors.

“Hey,” You gently pull his face up to meet your soft gaze, “You don’t have to be the best to be really damn good.”

The corners of his mouth twitch up slightly, almost in a smile, “I know that now. I think I just had to— I don’t know, make peace with that.”

You send him a knowing smile as his lips drift to meet yours again, a little deeper this time.

“Plus,” You begin, “If anyone is going to out-chef you, Chef, it has to be Carmy. He’s like, from another planet or something.”

Luca huffs out a laugh and your heart immediately feels lighter.

“Carm is really good,” Luca chuckles, “He’s got something special.”

“Just as special as you have, Lu.”

He kisses you like he’s trying to pour all of his love into you in just this moment. Your mind swirls as his lips leave yours, batting your eyes open to clear your head.

You placed a peck on his firm shoulder and step away to head back to bed. It’s only a few seconds of clanging until Luca is closing your bedroom door behind him.

“Dishes’ll be there tomorrow,” He mumbles as he climbs into bed, his weight practically collapsing into the plush surface.

You slid into place beside him, one leg tangled over his as his strong arms pull you into his chest. Luca’s warm hands sent a shiver up your spine.

“I should’ve just talked to you, my love. I’m sorry,” Luca stroked his thumb over your cheekbone.

“Heard, Chef,” You smirked but meant it just the same, “Can’t scare me off that easy.”

Luca smiled and tucked you into his chest, wanting to hold you as close as he could. His heart beat evened out as he felt your own, strong and steady, drawing him out of his anxiety.

You ran your fingertips of Luca’s toned back as he pressed gentle kisses into your cheek and neck. The two of you shared a comfortable, warm silence for a moment before a thought popped into Luca’s head.

“I thought I had to make my own peace,” He pulled away from you so he could see your face, “But I think you are my peace, love. You are always the answer.”

Your eyes prickled with tears, seeing the truth and adoration in Luca’s gaze. He’s saying all this while you’re trying to figure out how he thinks he’s the lucky one.

You wrack your brain for the right words, but all that comes out is, “I love you so fucking much, Lu.”

Luca stared down at you lovingly, planting needy kisses onto your lips.

“I love you just the same, my peace.”

————

It wasn’t more than a month before a delicate peace dove tattoo showed up on Luca’s forearm. Followed closely by a framed portrait of he and Carmy on the wall in your kitchen.

“Both sent me to war,” He teased when you questioned the timing, “But both brought me peace.”

[misdeliria]

THE MONSTER'S HERE; j. todd

It was a routine covert investigation. Emphasis on covert.

Your apartment was meant to be empty when Jason climbed through the window. No sounds were coming from outside your home office, which he was counting on—after a series of days, he deduced you were following your routine. You were most likely across town now, attending meetings at your day job.

Jason took the opportunity to plant all his listening devices. One is on the plant, another is under your desk, and the last is inside the clock. 

Disassembling the clock was light work, but with all the little pieces and Jason’s massive fingers, reassembling the device took an extra minute too long. He didn’t get a chance to open your desk's top drawer when the lock on your front door clicked. 

What were you doing at home so early? You were supposed to be at work. 

Your strides outside were directly approaching your home office. Did you know he was here?

With no time to escape out the window without getting caught, Jason decided to play it cool, throwing himself in your chair and crossing his legs as the knob turned. 

“I’ve been wondering when you’d finally make your move,” is the first thing you say when you step inside. You haven’t even looked at him, glancing around the room and smiling at the plant that held his plant. “I hope you didn’t break my clock.”

You’re dressed for work with wide-bottom slacks and a padded blazer. Your hair was down, and you looked refreshed—not surprised or out of breath.  

“Christ, you’re annoying,” Jason sighed through his voicemod. “Do you know how long that took?”

“I imagine a frustrating length.” 

You were smooth. Jason had to restrain himself from reacting behind the mask at every intention you did. You took the seat by the window in the corner, eyes trailing from the bookcase to the rug before landing on him leisurely at the desk. 

“Did you find anything good?”

“How did you know?”

How did you know where the listening devices were? How did you know he would choose a Tuesday mid-morning at a random time? 

You imitated his lax posture, crossing your arms with a haughty look. 

“Because I know you, Jason.” You sound earnest as you say it, and Jason’s whole body tenses. There’s nothing on your desk for him to pretend to be interested in and give any indication that you’re wrong. But his training is lost on him. 

“But you don’t remember me,” you murmur, eyes never leaving his helmet. You’re giving everything away in your body language, your shoulders sagging, the downturn in your brows and lips: This must be a trap.

“Uh oh, didn’t realize I was dealing with a jealous ex,” Jason laughs. “Which one were you again?” Why was he provoking her?

He must’ve hit a nerve because you just frown with a tick in your jaw. 

“How much do you know?” This catches Jason’s attention. This could work out for him.

“You work at a club near Gotham Heights. Your boss has recently been dealing with Roman Sionis.” If he gave you a little nudge on the subject, you’re bound to give him more details. 

Your expression falls in disappointment, and you suddenly look tired of him. 

“If that’s all you’re here for, I’m sorry to disappoint.” You don’t look at all that sorry. “He doesn’t keep me in the loop often. I don’t know anything.”

“There’s a shipment next week, and I want to know what’s in those containers.”

You exaggerate a sigh, throwing your head back while rolling your eyes. “You’re so demanding. It’s amazing how you’ve become successful in your line of work. Do you even know what I do at the club?”

Jason kept quiet under the helmet, racking his brain for your role. You were only labeled as hired as an employee in the records, but it didn’t specify what. Another question on the long list he wanted answers to. 

“Burbank, my boss, runs an underground fighting ring alongside the club. It’s a front.”

“Yeah, I know.” What does that have to do with you?

“Come on, use your head,” you jeer, and an epiphany sparks when your eyes glow blue. You smile with an ominous aura and tell him, “I’m his security.”

Jason instinctively reaches for the strap on his hip, but you tsk at him. 

“I wouldn’t do that.”

“Who are you?” Jason spits venomously, mildly panicking at this new development. Your home office was an average domestic room, so it was safe to say the rest of your apartment was also. You worked a 9 to 5, and yet you fought for an underground fight club. And, worst of all—

You knew exactly who he was.

“I’m not that surprised you don’t recognize me,” you muse. “I started dying my hair after your funeral.”

His funeral? Were you his classmate? Wait—

“Who are you?” Jason demanded this time. The image of a dark-haired girl in a Gotham Academy uniform flashed through his mind. She was the daughter of an elite, the youngest in a family of men. 

“I think you know who I am,” you answer, leaning against the chair armrest. “And it’s so good to see you again.”

a/n: just practicing rn; might add more later

[moneypowerglorymiddleofmiami]

heartthrob ˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

note: the year is 2007, and as all romcoms do— none of this makes proper sense. (inspired greatly by notting hill, 1999)

summary: a coffee shop, the owner, hollywood's most famous actor, and a meet-cute

warnings: a cuss word here and there

genre: romcom

“Hello,” A baritone voice came after the telltale toll of the shop bell— baritone yet young, vaguely familiar but definitely not someone she knew well. “Are you open?”

“Yeah, I’ll be out in a minute!” She yelled back from the kitchen. She pursed her lips as she gave the cupboard a final thrust, the dodgy thing has always been a right pain in the arse.

“Hi, how can I help you, sir?” She asked cheerily as she emerged from the side door, the soles of her boots tapping loudly against the aged wooden floors.

She paused in her steps when she saw the sopping wet figure at the door, standing awkwardly and apprehensively at the threshold. Droplets of water trickled down from the sleeves of his coat down to the WELCOME rug placed conveniently at the entrance. “Oh, gods! Are you alright?”

“You don’t happen to have any tissues in here, do you?” He asked with a tight smile.

“Unfortunately, no. We’ve run out at the moment.” She scrambled to grab the nearest tea towel from the cabinet before rushing over to help him. “This’ll have to do.”

“Thank you.” Their fingers grazed as he took the fabric from her hold. “I’m sorry for making such a mess.”

“It’s fine! The floorboards needed a bit of a clean anyway.” She joked with a half-hearted grin in an attempt to ease the atmosphere. “I can have your jacket dried in the back if you want.”

“Oh, I can’t possibly intrude any further.” He waved his hand to veto her suggestion before tending to himself once more.

“You’re not from here, are you?” She asked with a sudden interest. With each minute he spent in her presence, she felt like she was closer and closer to figuring out exactly who this man was. She’d seen him enough times, surely. His name was at the tip of her tongue.

“The accent wasn’t a dead giveaway?” He grinned at her.

“Well, you get your occasional round of Americans here and there.” She shrugged her shoulders. “The sunnies were a bit on the nose though.”

He clicked his tongue, quickly pulling the pair down his face and placing it against the neckline of his shirt. “The weather report said it was going to be sunny.”

“Weather reports are dodgy.” She raised her eyebrow knowingly.

“I’m guessing it doesn't rain often where you’re from?”

“Twice every year,” He pursed his lips. “But I’m never around enough to know how true that actually is.”

“Sounds like you travel a lot.”

“A fair amount. My work keeps me away from home.”

“Ah,” She nodded her head. She must’ve seen him in a travel advert somewhere. “What do you do exactly?”

“Well, I’m an actor.”

She stopped to look at him more carefully, tilting her head sideways from one direction to the next to get a hint. She met his gaze momentarily, her eyes squinting as she wracked her brain for any clue of who he might be. He looked at her expectantly.

The dozens of movie posters she'd seen at the cinema came to her with a dazzling clarity. Ecstatic by her epiphany, she slammed her hand against the counter loudly— inducing a painful bang and an equally pain-stricken howl almost immediately.

“Are you OK?!” He asked with a panicked edge to his tone. He shoved the tea towel down his pocket carelessly as he ambled over to her. “I don’t know the emergency numbers here so I’m gonna have to either carry you or drag you— whichever comes first.”

She laughed loudly in amusement whilst nursing her hand, the pain slowly ebbing away as he continued to fuss over her. “I can’t believe it! Luke Castellan is in my depressing little shop!”

“Wait, fuck, are you sure you’re OK?” Luke mouth twitched, as if contemplating whether this was an appropriate time to laugh. He looked at her as if she’d gone insane. Maybe she did, maybe she actively was. This oddly seemed like the stuff of delusions.

“Yes, I’m fine!” She flipped her wrists as if to show him. “Healthy as a horse.”

He cracked a smile at her comment.

The bell let out a loud clang as a young man peeked his head into the shop, his umbrella left out in the street to protect him from the rain. “Luke! I’ve been trying to contact you for the last hour!”

“I suppose that’s your cue to leave then.” She smiled bashfully, the embarrassment catching up instantaneously. She was rubbish at this.

“I guess it is.” He hummed lowly with a grimace. He gave her a once over. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Luke, maybe hurry the fuck up?” The young man grumbled impatiently.

“Right,” She nibbled on her lower lip. “Thanks for coming around.”

“I’ll come back and actually buy something.” He said as he turned to leave.

“I’ll put you up to that.”

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

She was in the middle of a yawn when a loud voice called from across the street, a familiar tea towel gripped between ring-clad fingers and a head of black curls bobbing through the crowds.

It was still quite early in the morning, but Notting Hill was buzzing with life.

“Hey!” Luke yelled as he hurriedly walked towards her, expertly maneuvering himself between the masses of people and the stalls that lined the road. “I accidentally brought this with me. I had it cleaned and everything.”

“Thank you,” She said as she received it. The keys to the shop dangled between her fingers, waiting to be used. “You could have done away with the old thing.”

“It felt right to give it back.” He gave her a smile, more performative than yesterday— dazzling and charming, nothing less from an actor, of course. “It might have been sentimental, being in a display cabinet and all.”

“Well, it’s memorabilia from a royal wedding some decades ago.” She responded with a blush. “My mum likes to collect these things.”

“At least it’s got some national value to it.” He raised his eyebrows.

“There’s that, yeah.” She chuckled. “My mum’s gonna be relieved, I’m sure. Thank you, Luke— may I call you Luke?”

He stared at her for a moment; what for? She wasn’t exactly sure, but it was certainly magnetic. She couldn’t move away and it felt like everything else aside from the man in front of her was a blindspot. Her eyes met his, and Luke’s grin grew imperceptibly wider and her heart thumped indescribably faster.

“Sure, yes, definitely.” Catching himself, he stood straighter. His face looked ruddy, either owed mostly to the sunbeams warming his skin or the excitement thrumming underneath his flesh. “I’d like that.”

He stuffed his hand into his pocket, just in time to tend to his phone’s shrill ringtone and its incessant vibrations. Luke groaned as he pulled it out. “It’s probably my manager. I have to go, unfortunately.”

She tucked her hair behind her ear, equally as red as his cheeks despite the lack of direct sunlight against her skin. “Sorry to hear that. Have fun spending the afternoon slaying monsters.”

“The movie's about a bunch of kids on a cruise ship actually,” He laughed as he began to walk away backwards, his eyes completely fixated on her.

“Well, have fun doing that then.” She waved him off with an amused smile.

“I doubt it.” He winked at her before turning around at the curb then jogging down to god knows where.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

“Hey, mum.” She greeted when she walked into their shared flat, the whistle of the kettle loudly whooshing from the kitchen. “Did someone ring the shop while I was gone?”

It took her mother a minute to respond, too enraptured by David Beckham’s impeccable left-leg hurl into the opposing team’s goal. She listened attentively to the live play-by-play narration as she made herself a cup of tea, the announcer was basically gripping his seat with anticipation. Telltale cheers of a victory echoed through the walls.

“Mum?” She called again.

“Oh, yes, sorry, dear!” Her mother replied distractedly. “There was a young bloke that called… think he mentioned his name was Luke.”

Thank the gods she was alone in the kitchen because the silent giddy squeals and foot stomps were definitely concerning. Christ, was this real life?

She cleared her throat and feigned nonchalance. She drummed her fingers against the marble surface of the counter, her nails absently digging against old remnants of a sticker. “And what did he say?”

“He said he’s staying at the Ritz under Hermes, so give that name to the concierge if you wanna call.” A beat. “Have you gotten yourself a boyfriend?"

“He’s not.”

“Be more definitive,” Her mother snapped. Teasingly, she added: “Not ever or not yet?”

“I’m not so sure, actually.” She clicked her tongue, wracked by pensive thoughts of juvenile daydreaming. She was getting ahead of herself, surely. She needed to approach this from a rational perspective: Luke Castellan had a whole life in Hollywood, decidedly not London. He had a bombshell girlfriend back at home with a career just as luxurious as his. He was a star burning brightly and she could barely get herself to flicker.

“Doesn’t sound like a ‘not ever’ to me.” Her mother responded with a lilt to her voice.

She swallowed thickly at how foreboding it sounded.

[toomiieimagiines]

hihihihihi

rui kamishiro having crush on his friend (reader) n then confessing to them by accident like they r handing out one day and he quietly says ‘i love you so much’ without realising

please and tyy <333 have a good day darl!!

THIS IS THE CUTEST REQUEST EVERRR!!! UGHHH MY HEART HURTS! i saw your other submission, i’m just replying to this one because it’s the actual request!! ur the best, thank you all for so many asks! this is the longest thing i’ve written on here! this sparked me with so much inspiration!! sorry if it gets a little emo, i’ve not been feeling all that well myself recently mentally! ^_^” sorry for projecting on you rui!

CW: it gets really angsty, but it’s a hurt comfort, i promise! food as a metaphor for love at the beginning. reverse comfort. rui is autistic coded sorry i just can’t help myself

Rui Kamishiro is an idiot.

Rui had a problem.

A problem that swelled up in his stomach, travelled to his chest, and landed in a horrible place- his heart. He didn’t even notice it at first too, the warmth in the back of his throat, the burning in his lungs. Countless days sitting at his desk, mindless tinkering with something, wondering why he suddenly felt so apprehensive around you. A shocking pain filled his gut,

Rui Kamishiro was in love with one of his best friends.

He couldn’t stop it. He tried to snap himself out of it- he really did! He knows he can’t feel that way, knows it isn’t right. He feels so perverted every time he’s next to you because all he can think of is how your lips would feel on his, how sweet your gaze is on him, how you’d warm his cold hands-

God, he’s the worst. Thoughts would slurry through his head every time you’re near. You’re his friend! He should be thankful you want to speak to him, it’s selfish to feel this way about somebody, especially somebody like you.

He truly believes that close relationships like those, are not for the likes of him.

He braces himself for the day you realize that he would be no good as a lover - he’s sure you know - but he comes to a gut wrenching epiphany that he doesn’t seem to mind all the much how you’re in his life. He loves you, but you like him, and he can deal with that. He can take friendship, what he can’t take is disgust, that’d be agony to him, so he’ll make sure you never feel that way towards him.

He locks his feelings deep inside where nobody can ever find them. Not you, not Nene, not anybody.

And he’s okay. Truly, genuinely, okay with it. He should take what he can get. He should be grateful you talk to him.

He sighs, lost in his thoughts, you shoot him a look. He shouldn’t have done that, he laments, he’s probably gone and worried you.

Class ends quickly, he dodges you ‘till lunch time.

You find him, you always were good at quickly sniffing him out. What a predicable friend you have, you muse. The two of you sit down, a pregnant silence overtaking the both of you.

“Rui? You’ve been-“ you search for the word, “spacey. You feel alright? No one was bothering you or anything, right?” You jab whatever was in your lunchbox today, as if killing the meat for a second time. Your tongue lulled out in concentration, he lets out an amused laugh.

“Aren’t I always spacey?” His head cocks to the side, a lopsided smile appearing. How come all of his worries about you vanish when you two are like this? Isn’t this supposed to make him feel worse?

“Spacier than usual.” You decide, pointing your utensil at him threateningly. “I know you better than you think, don’t play with me.”

Not well enough, he wants to beg. He wants to know you in every way possible, wants you to know him-

“You’re doing it again!” You groan, shoving a bite into your mouth. Your face lights up at the taste, it’s endearing to him - well everything about you is endearing to him. “Ooo! Try this!” You beam, grabbing some between your chopsticks.

He thinks you’re going to place it on this lunchbox, but is shocked when you just stare at him, holding the food an inch or two away from his mouth. He opens his mouth, and you let him take it between his lips.

A thousand thoughts flurry in his head again, and he tries to grasp at them desperately to contain himself. A few rose colored pieces of paper appeared in his hand.

The first, was that that was way too domestic. That’s what you’d do with a lover. That’s what you’d do on a picnic in a meadow, a radio playing classical- God, his emotions are really getting to the better of him. When did he start thinking about things like that?

The second paper he discovered, was the realization that your lips had touched those very chopsticks too. Did you not realize that you had just touched your lips to his - in a way? Did you not care? Maybe it was meant to be familiar, he’d drink off Nene all the time.

The last paper was a simple thought, a thought he would actually be willing to tell you about.

That was really good.

He realized you had been watching him intensely, and he prays that you didn’t see his face contort three times in the 8 seconds he had been chewing. You looked at him as if you were expecting a response, and the paper butterflies stop shooting all over the place.

“Good, right?” You say, egging him along like a parent who had finally gotten their child to resign and eat vegetables. He’s always been particular, even now his lunch box only really had snacks in it. You’re glad when you see him eating.

He decides to give you a hum of approval, and a nod of his head. He doesn’t trust himself to talk to you. You feel giddy that he enjoyed it, and it shows on your face. He feels giddy too.

“You should eat more. I can start making you lunch that you’ll actually like if that’s what it takes. You’re looking pale.” You tease, shoving him gently. “Is that why you’re so spacey today? Because you’re hangry?”

You’re a good friend, he thinks. You’re such a good friend, and that’s why I love you.

“I’m not hangry!” He pushes you back, laughing heartily. “And you don’t need to bother making me lunches. I’m capable, I just don’t want to.”

“Whatever than, weirdo. Starve.” You shrug, “if you pass out during a show and I have to nurse you back to health, I’ll say I told you so!”

You two finish eating quickly, not really talking that much, and he’s resigned to looking down guiltily during class again. School flashes by quickly. He has rehearsal today, he wants to groan. Maybe it’ll take his mind off things. He has a new idea to pitch to Tsukasa anyway.

Rui soon discovers that rehearsal isn’t going to be all that good today. He steps on Nenes foot twice, he runs into Emu a handful of times, and now he’s in a bad mood because on top of all of his thoughts, Tsukasa turned down his idea for a flame shooting Robo-Nene.

“Rui!!” Nene whispers, breaking him out of his thoughts when she jabs him in the side. “Cmon, you gotta pay attention or ‘Kasa’ll get moody.”

She cares about him, in her own sisterly way. It’s funny. He’s sure she can even guess what he’s thinking about.

“Sorry, Nene..” He says softly, rubbing his face in frustration. Why does he have to be such a freak? He wishes he were more like Tsukasa. Tsukasa probably doesn’t have paper butterflies in his head.

What a dumb thought that was, paper butterflies. He wishes he didn’t have stupid thoughts like that. Normal people don’t think of feelings that way, he knew you definitely didn’t think that way, what a weird person he was.

Rehearsal passes after time, he leaves quickly, too quick for him to even offer walking back with Nene. She’s going to Emu’s probably, he thinks so at least. He checks his phone, a notification from none other than ‘Weirdo’ - your doing, not his - Popping into view. You had insisted he’d change your contact when you had seen it was simply your name. It always got a chuckle out of him, despite the irony of you calling yourself the weird one.

Weirdo: wanna come over after your dance dance time?? i need help with math, mr smarty!

Me: Sure, I guess I can spare some brain power. Let me whip up a little Rui Math magic

Did that sound weird? Whatever. He sends it, changing his route to end up on your street instead. The walk is filled with the usual misery of a smitten teenage boy, apprehensive feelings washing over him. He prepares what he should talk about, repeating things that he’s sure wouldn’t be weird to say. He wishes he could make feelings disappear, he wishes he could disappear really. What a different world it would be if he weren’t in it, what a better life you’d have if he weren’t in it. He shakes his head, trying to block that away. He’s so dramatic, it makes his skin crawl in disgust.

He knocks on your door, but quickly gets another text.

Weirdo: just come in.. i left it unlocked!

You should really be more careful, he frets, opening the door and pulling off his shoes. He thinks you’re too trusting of people, even of people like him. If you knew his disgusting thoughts of love towards you, you’d certainly be frightened. Like when a miserable diseased stray wants you to pet it. Actually, you’re too kind to be deflected from petting a flea-ridden animal. That’s just the kind of person you are, maybe that’s why you two are so close.

He pushes the door of your room open, being met with the dejected stare you’re giving your math homework.

“Rui,” you look up at him, “I think I may be stupid.”

“You’re not stupid.” He chides, sitting down on the bed next to you.

“Whatever, I give up!” You toss it onto your desk.

“I just got here, I haven’t even tried to help you yet!” He says amused, trying to go grab it. you stop him, pulling him back next to you. His breath gets caught in his throat. You’re close to him, way too close to him.

“Honestly, I used that as an excuse for you to hang out with me. I was desperate, okay?!”

Those words shock him. You thought you’d have to trick him into hanging out with you? Did you not know how devoted he was to seeing you? Just the thought of you wanting to see him mad him giddy. If only you knew how quick he’d go if you’d asked him to be there.

He tries not to think about how close you two are. It’s not weird, Rui, they’re your friend. Friends lay together, don’t they? He’s played video games together with Nene in her bed, this is normal. He’s looking too much into this. What a weirdo he was for thinking like this, he’s a total slime ball.

“Y’know, Rui.” Your voice breaks him out of his thoughts, your touch lingering as you nudge him. “If you want to talk to me about something, you can.”

He feels like he’s been shoved under water, the current throwing his body around. Everything is too stressful, and now even your presence can’t make the weird thoughts go away. He suddenly becomes hyper aware of how close you are to him. He’s guiltily dreamed about being this close to you, feeling your warmth, touching him gently like you always did.

Those dreams weren’t for the likes of him, he can’t hope for things like that, he tries to remind himself every chance he gets.

So why does this feel so real? Why can he smell your perfume, and see your worried face, and feel you touching him so tenderly. You can’t keep getting his hopes up like this. He wishes he could be a good friend for you.

He wishes he didn’t love you in such a depraved, disgusting way. He wishes he wasn’t such an odd person. He wishes he didn’t think the way he did. He wants to be normal.

“Rui?” You say worried, grabbing his cheek. Stop it, he wants to beg. He can’t feel you in this way and act like it’s normal. He can’t be this close to you and be casual about it.

His face contorts into something awful, a helpless expression coming forth. His mouth opens to beg you to understand that he is okay. He truly is okay.

“I love you, so much.” The words are like a ghost, shooting out of him. His breath gets caught in his throat, and so does yours.

What?? How could he do that?? All he can feel is despair curling up inside of him. His worst fear is going to come true, you’re disgusted. This is the most humiliating thing he’d ever felt in his entire life. He’s failed the one rule he set between the two of you, you’re going to leave his life forever. You’re gone now. This is worst than any torment he’s ever faced in school.

He needs to try and defend himself.

“I-“ His words are hasty, and he reaches to tear your hands off of his face to grab them earnestly. “I- I don’t know why I said that-“

He finds himself unable to continue talking, what can’t he talk?

Your mouth is on his.

His face relaxes, his brows unfurrowing as he hums miserably into it. He grabs you desperately, relishing in how wonderful your lips feel. He really shouldn’t be doing this. He really shouldn’t-

He deepens the kiss, trying to bask in you for just a second longer. His thoughts are all gone now. It’s just you, you, you.

It’s hasty, and needy, and salty. Your noses bump together carelessly, your teeth scrape each other. It’s both your first time kissing anybody, after all.

You two part shortly after. He’s panting, and so are you.

His breath gets caught once again once he sees the depraved line of spit connecting you two. You wipe his cheek, when did he start crying? How embarrassing.

“Rui Kamishiro, you’re strange.” You smile shakily, voice sickly-sweet with fondness. “is that what’s been on your mind this whole time?

He nods, apprehensive to admit anything.

“I love you too, if that’s what you’re so concerned about.”

You say it like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Like he doesn’t love you like a stay dog loves the person who gives him scraps. He feels like everything is lifted off of him, like his head is finally above water.

He can’t help but let out a pathetic gasp. It makes his skin crawl. “I-“

“It’s fine. You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to.” You bring him towards yourself, holding him so gently he thinks he’ll faint.

He decides that he’s willing to be guilty if it means he gets to be like this with you.

What a selfish, hormonal, smitten, weird, depraved boy he is.

Strawberry chapstick, huh?

[loveinhawkins]

There isn’t a strike of lightning, no grand epiphany that clues Steve in.

It just comes down to this: he knows Dustin Henderson.

Knows how he looks when confronted with a problem he desperately wants to solve.

“Fuck this,” he’s saying through gritted teeth, pushing down hard on the gaping wound across Steve’s abdomen; he’s doing everything right, Steve thinks with pride, but it’s not enough.

It’s not his fault.

Steve says as much.

But Dustin isn’t listening; he’s just muttering to himself, “Not again,” over and over.

And Steve suddenly feels like he did when dropping the quarter into The Indiana Flyer—the moment just before the song played, already knowing what he would hear.

“Not again?” Steve asks very quietly.

Dustin’s mouth snaps shut. His face is chalk white, and there’s more than just fear in his eyes; there’s guilt too, guilt and a responsibility he should never have to bear.

Steve wants to take it from him.

He lifts his hand, grunting with the effort, and ruffles Dustin’s hair. “Oh, bud,” he murmurs, “you’ve kept trying, huh?”

Dustin’s eyes fill with tears.

Steve tries to hush him, breathing turning shallow from the pain.

“Hey, you—you’ve g-gotta hand it to me, man,” Steve says through a faint smile. “Was… on the right track, y’know? O-obsessed with clocks.”

Dustin gasps out a laugh. It ends on a sob.

“Shut up,” he says, and that’s all—no clever comeback, nothing, even though he always has one.

Steve’s heart breaks for him.

“How many times?” Steve says, but he doesn’t need a reply; he knows enough just from the way Dustin is shaking.

“I—” Dustin swallows, shakes his head. “I don’t…” Oh, Steve thinks, his kid is tired.

“C’mere.” He cups the back of Dustin’s head. “Everyone… everyone else make it?”

Dustin starts to cry.

It’s an answer of its own.

“Shh. Hey. That’s… you can stop now.” Steve pats the back of Dustin’s hand, stills the pressure on his wound. “Listen. Just… just let it run this time. Hey, it’s okay, Dustin. It’s okay.”

“It’s n-not okay, Steve, how can you—”

“Shh,” Steve says again, and maybe this is as much for him as it is for Dustin; he doesn’t want their last conversation to be a fight. He looks into Dustin’s eyes. Smiles. “Christ, I’m so proud of you.”

It doesn’t cover everything he wants to say; there’s not enough time.

I loved growing up with you. I’m sorry. I wanted to be there for you forever.

“Fuck you,” Dustin says, young and angry and so afraid. “Don’t say you’re proud of me, asshole, just don’t—”

Don’t go.

“Okay, fine. You’re a smartass,” Steve drawls, and Dustin lets out a choked giggle before grief takes over again.

“God,” he says, “this isn’t fucking fair. I sh-shouldn’t have to choose—this is—”

“Bullshit,” Steve agrees. “That’s not on you, man. Not your fault if the game’s rigged.”

Dustin closes his eyes.

It’s not so bad, Steve tells himself. He can just… rest for a couple seconds, tell Dustin to get outta here, then…

A faint chime.

Dustin’s eyes open. There’s a sudden gleam to them, shining through the fatigue. Determination.

Hope, despite everything.

“Well then,” Dustin says, “s’a good thing I’m a smartass.”

And then he’s running.

Steve manages to lift his head up with a cry, gets to see Dustin reach a grandfather clock ensnared with vines, because of course he’s not gonna listen to him, he’s such a little shit, and Steve loves him so much—

Dustin reaches up to the glass in front of the clock face, smashes it with his hand.

The world turns white.

The last thing Steve sees is Dustin turning to him with a shaky grin, mouthing, “One more.”

And Steve’s still terrified, but he also thinks of the world’s most stubborn, brilliant kid with a wonky compass, of how many times do I have to be right on the money before you guys just trust me?

It’s a walk along the railroad tracks, stumbling into each other’s lives; it’s just get ready, and you die, I die; it’s being trapped under Starcourt, and Steve left with the one thing that all the drugs, all the pain in the world could not take away from him.

The absolute faith that Dustin would figure something out.

[chosetherose]

Updated as of 6/30

The Eras Tour *Surprise Songs*

Taylor said her goal is to not repeat each show’s surprise songs so I thought it would be fun to track them as the tour goes on! Black strikethrough is included in the main set list. Purple strikethrough are included in the main set list but have been switched up at some show/s. Blue songs Taylor played but might be repeated due to messing up.

Taylor Swift

Tim McGraw (3/17) • Picture to Burn • Teardrops on My Guitar (5/5) • A Place in This World (4/22) • Cold as You (4/23) • The Outside • Tied Together with a Smile • Stay Beautiful• Should’ve Said No (5/19) • Mary’s Song (Oh My My My) • Our Song (3/24) • I’m Only Me When I’m with You (6/30) • Invisible (5/20) • A Perfectly Good Heart

Fearless

Fearless • Fifteen (5/6) • Love Story • Hey Stephen (5/14) • White Horse (3/25) • You Belong With Me • Breathe• Tell Me Why• You’re Not Sorry (4/21) • The Way I Loved You • Forever & Always (5/13) • The Best Day (5/14) • Change • Jump Then Fall (4/2) • Untouchable • Come In With The Rain • Superstar • The Other Side Of The Door (4/28) • You All Over Me (6/3) • Mr. Perfectly Fine (6/16) • We Were Happy • That’s When • Don’t You • Bye Bye Baby • Today was a fairytale (4/22)

Speak Now

Mine (5/7) • Sparks Fly (5/5) • Back To December • Speak Now (4/13, Taylor restarted part of the song but did not confirm it could be played again) • Dear John (6/24) • Mean (4/15) • The Story Of Us (6/17) • Never Grow Up • Enchanted • Better Than Revenge • Innocent• Haunted (6/9) • Last Kiss • Long Live • Ours (3/31) • If This Was A Movie (6/23) • Superman

Red

State Of Grace (3/18) • Red (5/21) • Treacherous (4/13) • I Knew You Were Trouble • All Too Well • 22 • I Almost Do (6/9) • We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together • Stay Stay Stay • The Last Time (6/16) • Holy Ground (5/27) • Sad Beautiful Tragic (3/31) • The Lucky One (4/2) • Everything Has Changed • Starlight • Begin Again (4/23) • The Moment I Knew (6/4) • Come Back… Be Here (5/12) • Girl At Home • Ronan • Better Man (5/19) • Nothing New • Babe • Message In A Bottle • I Bet You Think About Me (4/30) • Forever Winter • Run • The Very First Night • All Too Well – 10 Minute Version

1989

Welcome To New York (5/28) • Blank Space • Style • Out Of The Woods (5/6, Taylor confirmed it might be played again) • All You Had To Do Was Stay • Shake It Off • I Wish You Would (6/2) • Bad Blood • Wildest Dreams • How You Get The Girl (4/30) • This Love (5/13) • I Know Places • Clean (4/1, Taylor confirmed it might be played again, 5/28) • Wonderland (4/21) • You Are In Love • New Romantics

Reputation

…Ready For It? • End Game • I Did Something Bad • Don’t Blame Me • Delicate • Look What You Made Me Do • So It Goes… • Gorgeous (4/29) • Getaway Car (5/26) • King Of My Heart • Dancing With Our Hands Tied • Dress • This Is Why We Can’t Have Nice Things • Call It What You Want • New Year’s Day

Lover

I Forgot That You Existed • Cruel Summer • Lover • The Man • The Archer • I Think He Knows (5/21) • Miss Americana & The Heartbreak Prince • Paper Rings (6/23) • Cornelia Street • Death By A Thousand Cuts (4/1, Taylor confirmed it might be played again) • London Boy • Soon You’ll Get Better • False God (5/27) • You Need To Calm Down • Afterglow • Me! • It’s Nice To Have A Friend • Daylight (6/24) • All of the Girls You’ve Loved Before

Folklore

The 1 (replaced IS multiple shows) • Cardigan • The Last Great American Dynasty • Exile with Bon Iver • My Tears Ricochet • Mirrorball (3/17) • Seven (spoken, 6/17) • August • This Is Me Trying (3/18) • Illicit Affairs • Invisible String (replaced by T1 multiple shows) • Mad Woman (4/15) • Epiphany • Betty • Peace • Hoax • The Lakes (6/2)

Evermore

Willow • Champagne Problems • Gold Rush (5/12) • Tis The Damn Season • Tolerate It • No Body, No Crime • Happiness • Dorothea • Coney Island (4/28) • Ivy • Cowboy Like Me (3/25) • Long Story Short • Marjorie • Closure • Evermore (6/30) • Right Where You Left Me •It’s Time To Go

Midnights

On 4/14 Taylor changed the rule: ALL SONGS ON MIDNIGHTS MAY BE REPEATED. I’m adding the dates to the midnights surprise songs but they will remain in black text since they can be repeated.

Lavender Haze • Maroon (5/26) • Anti-Hero • Snow on the Beach (3/24) • You’re on Your Own, Kid (4/14) • Midnight Rain • Question…? (5/20) • Vigilante Shit • Bejeweled • Labyrinth • Karma • Sweet Nothing • Mastermind • The Great War (4/14) • Bigger Than the Whole Sky • Paris • High Infidelity (4/29) • Glitch • Would’ve, Could’ve, Should’ve (5/7) • Dear Reader • Hits Different (6/4)

Other

I don’t wanna live forever (6/3)

[daddyfordaeddy]

Better than Predicted [J.WY, K.YS]

pairing: wooyoung x f! fortune teller! yn x yeosang

word count: 2869

warnings: cursing, in-depth divination tactics, smut warnings under cut

genre: fortune teller au, carnival setting, smut, some crack, e for explicit

summary: after hearing rumors, wooyoung would like to see the fabled fortune teller himself. and he drags his unsuspecting best friend, yeosang, along.

-

part two of dickvination collab with @flurrys-creativity, @sanjoongie, @potatomountain, and @mingsolo <3 this one is a duo between doom and i and i hope u all enjoy! hehehehehe can be read as a standalone

<- first | next ->

-

smut warnings: oral (m and f), fingering (f), come swallowing, come eating, some petnames (they refer to yn as miss), if im missing any lmk!

-

“Come on, it’ll be fine. It’s just a little divination,” Wooyoung laughs, taking Yeosang’s hand and tugging him down the makeshift path between tents. “You’ll have fun, Sang.”

Yeosang glances behind himself worriedly. “How is some old lady staring at my palm fun?” he asks incredulously.

“I hope you know I take offence at that,” your silky smooth voice calls out, and both Wooyoung and Yeosang whirl around to see you standing just outside of your tent, holding the flap open with one hand. “I don't think I’m that old, and I can do a lot more than just palm reading.

“I’m sorry,” Yeosang bows his head, slightly ashamed. “I didn’t mean to insult you.”

“You could make it up to me by letting me do a reading,” you chuckle, and Yeosang nods in agreement after a little hesitation. “Make your way in, both of you.”

Wooyoung pushes Yeosang in first before turning to you and saying in a hushed tone, “I heard–”

“I know what you’re here for, Jung Wooyoung,” you laugh. “Go in the tent and make sure your friend won’t bolt. You’ll get what you’re coming here for.” Wooyoung’s eyes widen and he hurriedly steps into the tent, and you follow shortly after, letting the flap close with a soft sound.

“Now, what would the two of you like to do first?” You move to sit on your heels behind your small table. “Other than palm reading, of course, I offer tarot, astrology, tea leaves, you name it.”

“You pick first, Sang,” Wooyoung urges his friend, bumping him with his shoulder. “Just whichever appeals.”

“Uh…how about a palm reading?” His voice shakes ever so slightly and you smile, amused, reaching out with your hand and grabbing his wrist, guiding it to lay flat on the table. You take note of the blush coating his face.

“Lets see,” you hum, tracing around his fingers gently. Yeosang fidgets. “You are quite sensitive, both in emotions and physically I see. You will be restless in relationships as a result, but each relationship will be very significant in your life, although you will struggle to keep them long lasting. Your life will be guided by your friends and your family, and your experiences will be…fruitful.”

You give Wooyoung a short little nod, one that Yeosang does not seem to see. “You can get all of that from my palm?” His tone isn’t disbelieving per se, just unsure.

“Of course,” you laugh, closing his hand gently and giving it a few pats before releasing it. If you’d like, I can do Wooyoung’s and you can see just how his differs. Unless he’d like to do a different reading, of course.”

Wooyoung shrugs. “We’ll have time to do multiple, right? I don’t mind doing palm reading.”

The double entendre has you shaking your head ever so slightly out of exasperation. “Palm, please.” Wooyoung offers up his hand with a cheeky smile. “You are also on the traditional side, a little more so than Yeosang. You will come across some epiphanies in life as well. You will be content in any relationships you go through, although they will be few and long lasting. Your experiences will be rich as long as you let yourself make the decisions.”

Yeosang looks absolutely floored by your reading of his friend, eyes wide and shining. “Is there anything you can’t do?”

You bark out a short laugh. Oh, so sweet and innocent. You think you’ll have quite some fun with him. “There’s not much in the way of that. In fact, there’s this secret reading I only offer to select customers. Would you be interested?” You lean over the table slightly, making note of how Yeosang’s eyes flick down to see the hint of cleavage you show and then back up to your face. “It’s on the more…intimate side, but I can promise you, it’ll be much more in depth.”

“I– sure, I’d be interested,” Yeosang mumbles, his eyes zeroing in on your face as he tries his best to not look down again. “What do I need to do?”

“Oh, just sit there and look pretty,” you hum, moving the table aside and shifting forward. “Wooyoung, I’m sure you’ll be happy to help me out with this. Get a little…hands on experience with divination.” Wooyoung looked a little too eager to help out, shuffling closer nestling himself behind his friend. “Right here?” You hummed out in approval, moving around the table a bit but keeping your eyes on Yeosang. He swallowed hard, eyes now trained just where you want them. “Yes, right here. Give me a little extra room.”

“F-for what?” Yeosang was still trying to be respectful, but the quickly closing distance was getting to him. “To read your dick.”

Once the words fell from your lips, he looked ready to bolt, eyes widening and body tensing up; just like you suspected. But Wooyoung held him down by some miracle it seemed, his own eyes trained on your body now that all his suspicions had been confirmed. “Relax, Sangie, I heard it’s worth it. Just enjoy it.” He soothed his friend, rubbing his sides while you waited for consent. Yeosang still looked conflicted, but after a moment he nodded, pink dusting his cheeks as you smiled at him. “O-okay.” Reaching for his pants without delay, your skilled fingers undid his pants and tugged them down. He was generous enough to lift his hips for you, gripping the pillows beneath him and staring at the top of your head shyly. It was no surprise to find him already half hard once the underwear came off next. “She’s really doing it.” Wooyoung whispered to himself, earning a breathless laugh from you. You could feel Yeosang turning slightly to question him, but anything he was going to say died on his lips when your hand wrapped around him. Stroking him to life, you took in all the details of his pretty dick, from the girth, to the length, thumb running over a particular vein that popped out once at full mass, all these details telling you about him in ways the palm would not. You leaned in, tongue flicking out to capture the bead of precum that had formed. The soft hitch of his breath was almost distracting as you mulled over the taste and texture of the pre-cum. It was clear, on the tasteless side, and already told you so much, just like the size and shape of him. Just to be sure though, you needed more. With determination to read him properly, you pushed your mouth down, taking in several inches and pressing your tongue up against his base. He was sensitive, just as you had said before, every bob of your head bitching his breath and making him even more restless. “Oh fuck that’s hot-” Wooyoung rasped out, his hands still holding onto Yeosang and leaning him back to get a better view of how well you took his friend into your mouth. He groaned when you bottomed out, a stark contrast to the whine that Yeosang let out. Part of you enjoyed your customer’s responses to your work a little too much, and the deep whines Yeosang was letting out was proof of that. Still, you remained vigilant, humming around his cock, and tasting more of his precum on your tongue. Still mostly tasteless, that just left his cum. Hand pressing down on his thigh, briefly you marvelled at the muscle tensing up under your fingertips, head bobbing as you hollow your cheeks and sucked. His whines grew in volume, just for him to try and hide them behind the back of his hand. You glanced up at him, finding Wooyoung watching you with curious eyes full of desire. Yeosang’s hips bucking into your mouth reminded you that you still had him in the back of your throat, and that he was close. Pulling your mouth away you paid special attention to his tip, coaxing his release out of him as you stroked his swollen base.

Yeosang turned his head into Wooyoung’s neck as he came, gooey white strings of cum shot onto your tongue, letting every drop pool there as you milked him for all he was worth. You didn’t pull away until he collapsed back against his friend, panting heavily and muscular thighs shaking. Swallowing you sat up, mulling over the taste and texture, but you didn’t get much time to process before your attention was directed elsewhere. With one arm around Yeosang, Wooyoung held him up but had moved to push his own pants down, fingers wrapped around the base and hips jutting forward. “My turn?” “I have to tell him his fortune first.” you mused after swallowing. It was almost adorable how impatient he was, all signs of nervousness gone from his posture. “Yeosang will be too out of it to listen. You can do mine first. Please?” It was the pleading tone that convinced you. With a small nod you moved closer, Wooyoung leaning back a bit to give you full access to his cock. He was thinner in size, with a slight curve upward. Interesting. You half expected a groan to fall from his lips the second your tongue touched his leaking tip, but he let out an excited giggle instead. A sweet taste filled your senses as you sucked a little more out of him before pushing your head down. Wooyoung wasn’t afraid to touch you, but in a way he asked for consent. At first his hand hovered over your head, but when you reached up and pressed it down, he was gripping your hair and thrusting his hips forward. You relaxed your jaw, not minding the man taking control; it told you just as much about him as his taste and size did. “Fuck- San wasn’t lying. So good.” He panted out between thrusts, pushing you down more and more on your cock. “Bet you like doing this? You get off on sucking on strangers' cocks?” Oh he was a talker- “W-wooyoung, don’t talk to her like that.” Yeosang protested from next to you, still sounding a little out of it. You waved him off, looking up at Wooyoung through your lashes, almost daring him to do more. “I think she likes it, Sangie. Can he check? See if you’re wet? I want to know if you are.” He slowed his thrusts, your hair bunched in his fists but he kept you on his cock. At least until you didn’t give an answer, so with a pop he pulled you off. “I-if he wants.” Things were getting out of hand, you had to remind yourself what you were doing and quickly took him back into your mouth. Wooyoung’s eyes rolled back momentarily, exposing his neck as a few veins protruded from the strain of swallowing. “Hear that? Do it, Sangie. I know you’re curious. You wanted to touch her before.” You swallowed in anticipation around his cock, earning a groan from him. You expected Yeosang to ignore his friend’s insistence, but a second later you felt a hand sliding up your skirts, thick fingers on your inner thigh. He gasped out behind you once the tips ran over your slick lips. “She’s not wearing any underwear and… oh she’s wet.” Yeosang sounded absolutely blissed out at this revelation, fingers pressing closer until they were slotted between your lips, searching for your clit.

Moaning from the stimulation, you arched your back to encourage him more. Wooyoung cursed under his breath, slowing his hips once more and pulling out. You realised he was denying himself his release. Oh, he was going to toy with you. With a huff you looked up at him, brow furrowing in mild defiance. “Wooyoung- I still have a job to do.” “Mmm yeah you do, but if you want the best reading of my cock, you’ll let me take my time. Sangie, how does she feel?” Yeosang pushed in two fingers at the other’s question, groaning despite the fact you were the one receiving stimulation. “T-tight.” “Aw, you’re hard again. Maybe I should’ve gone first instead. You think Miss here will let you fuck her?” “N-no!” Yeosang answered for you, ever polite. “Wooyoung, just finish up already.” There was a pout to his tone and with a force of your head you caught a glimpse of his equally pouty expression. Just as he curled his finger and ripped a moan from deep within your chest. Their conversation stopped and turned all attention back to you. “Then just make her cum. I think it’s a deserving reward for how good she uses her mouth yeah?” Wooyoung had his tips back against your lips, asking for entrance. You happily obliged. This was a nice reward, Yeosang’s fingers clumsy but eager to please as he pushed them in to match the tempo Wooyoung was fucking your throat. You kept yourself as relaxed as possible, robes coming a little loose and exposing your chest further. Bouncing between them, your tits also bounced, adding another slap of skin that reverberated in the room much like Wooyoung’s balls on your chin. He let himself get noisy, almost bickering with Yeosang on just what he should do with his fingers to please you, basing it solely off your moans. He stopped once more, giving you a breath of air, taking note of the drool running down the side of your face and your tousled hair. “Tell him how to make you cum. Yeosang takes directions really well.” Swallowing hard, you reached behind you to pull your skirts up and give Yeosang a clear view of your soaked pussy. “Pinch and roll my clit once your fingers find the spongy spot inside. You’re so close to it, just barely passing over, but I need pressure there. You can do it right?” You snuck a glance back, clenching around his fingers as you realised he had been stroking himself this whole time, cock angry and ready to cum again and expression pliant. “Y-yes I can Miss. I can do it.” “Good, now that’s settled, let’s cum together ya?” Before Wooyoung could jerk your mouth back to him, you were already eagerly pushing your head down. He cursed under his breath again before picking up the pace immediately. It was harsher now, Yeosang working you up just as you had told him to do though he couldn’t pinch your clit, his thumb still rubbed over it just right so your hips were jerking at each twinge of pleasure he brought out. You couldn’t help the moans that were muffled by Wooyoung’s harsh thrusts when Yeosang pressed down on the right spot, a happy little whine leaving his lips in celebration. He worked you towards your climax, hand still moving even as you heard him whine with release and feel his hot cum on the curve of your ass; just as Wooyoung’s spilled into your throat. You pushed back at him with effort so some of his cum could land on your chin, you needed to see the color and texture just as much as you needed to taste it. It was a miracle you could remember that even with ecstasy coursing through you.

A moment later both of them had sat back on their heels, no longer inside you but all three of you catching your breath. Wooyoung couldn’t help but chuckle as he looked you over, at the mess they made of you. “Oh this was more fun than San said. Right, Sangie? You had fun?” “Mhmm. But… what about the fortune?” He murmured out in a daze. A glance back at you gawked at the now sheepish way he was staring at your still exposed rear. “S-shouldn’t we clean her up too? It’s only polite.”

You shrug, pulling your robes back into place as you run a hand through your hair. “No need,” you smile. “Let me just get your fortunes for you and you’d best be on your way. I have other customers to attend to, you know.”

Wooyoung and Yesoang quickly scramble back into their usual places, hands folded neatly, a stark contrast to how they were just moments ago. “Now, Yeosang,” you hum, licking the last remnants of cum off your fingertips. “You will encounter a few hardships in your life, but it will mostly be smooth sailing for you. Go through life slowly and fortune will fall upon you. You may be confused at times, but keep your friends close and you’ll be fine.”

“Keeping Wooyoung close did not help with the confusion,” Yeosang mumbles under your breath and you hold back a chuckle, ignoring the elbow Wooyoung gives his friend.

“And for me?” Wooyoung moves forward eagerly.

“You will live comfortably, no worries for money as long as you keep moving forward. Don’t dwell on the past, and you will remain happy. Be careful who you trust, and lean on family and friends.” You shrug. “You both have pretty straightforward fortunes. There’s not much to add. Are there any other questions I can help you with?”

Yeosang shakes his head politely but Wooyoung smiles, leaning forward with a wink. “How do you feel about dinner?”

[hiraethwa]

one summer day

10 epiphany. where ushijima has a sudden realization

<< 09 disconnect. | >> 11 epiphany.

pairing: ushijima wakatoshi x reader a/n: we only go up from here, my loves - ave word count: 3.7k 💀 warnings: violence, threats, vile, misogynistic comments (by a rando), cursing tags: @lemurzsquad @daisy-room @integers -- (inbox me if you want to be added to the tag list)

april, third year

ushijima wakatoshi is by no means a people person. he is a highly motivated individual, mind always focused on the task at hand. he does not mind people interacting with him, although he can survive without it. 

he enjoys playing volleyball and listening to his teammates, occasionally adding to the conversation, but he has never been a particularly talkative person like tendo. it’s not that he dislikes human interaction, he just finds that sometimes, some things are better left unspoken, or perhaps unnecessary altogether. 

he never goes out of his way to befriend someone – he was already busy with volleyball as it is, and to add to it, staying on top of his school’s demanding curriculum. people has commented on his stoicism and general unapproachability behind his back, not that he cares enough about it. so naturally, he did not have a lot of friends to begin with. 

wakatoshi thinks that he is satisfied with his way of life and intends on keeping it simple with just school and volleyball, and none of the drama that he’s heard going around his year all the time. or rather, he intended to. 

and so, he finds himself confused, and irritated as well, when this guy from his year, apparently the captain of the basketball or baseball or whatever, he could care less, tries to start some kind of shit with him. 

ushijima was on his way to lunch with tendo when this idiot came and started badmouthing him and the volleyball team, calling him a useless piece of shit and some other names that he stopped listening to. he wondered what the point of this confrontation is when he doesn’t even know who this person is. 

with a blank stare and a twitching eyebrow, ushijima cuts him off, “i’m sorry, who are you again?” 

it only made him angrier and humiliated, with the crowd that is starting to form around the commotion. “my name is yamasaki takeo.”

“i don’t recall asking for your opinion, yamasaki-san,” ushijima retorts irritably, eliciting a gasp from tendo who is next to him. 

yamasaki gapes at him, as the whispers from the students around them grow audibly. 

that ought to be the end of it, ushijima thinks, as he makes to leave the scene that yamasaki caused. he has better things to worry about, like the fact that you are still not on speaking terms with him, rather than this pointless confrontation that is clearly wasting his time.

“that’s right, because you’re too busy trying to get into miyamura’s pants than focusing on volleyball, aren’t you?” 

tendo reckons that the idiot is relentless in picking a fight with him, and apparently has a death wish. for he had the balls to bring your name up when it is currently occupying the top spot in ushijima’s list of touchy subjects, which is very, very short. in fact, it only has one entry right now.

ushijima clenches his fists. now he is truly irritated, and his short patience is reaching its end. 

yamasaki, noticing that he is finally getting a reaction out of the indifferent volleyball captain, delightedly goes on to drag your name through the mud. 

“is it really that difficult to get your little girlfriend to sleep with you, captain, if you are so high and mighty? or is it just you that she is not interested in?” he mocks ushijima, a shit eating grin on his face now that he has ushijima’s full attention, discovering his weakness. “maybe she’s actually sleeping around with your friends. in fact, i wouldn’t be so surprised if she is, considering how close she is to semi eita as of late.”

if looks could kill, yamasaki would be long dead by now. his only saving grace being the thin fraying thread of patience that ushijima is holding on to. a very, very thin thread. 

“if you know what’s good for you, keep her name out of your filthy mouth.” ushijima grits his teeth. 

ushijima hates that he has you dragged into this spectacle. you’re not his girlfriend, much less his friend at this very moment. he hates that too, that you are so far away from his reach. he dislikes the hole your absence left in his meticulous schedule, and he misses the warmth your presence brings him. 

for your sake, he has been keeping his temper in check. convincing himself that getting into a brawl with yamasaki would only serve to fan the flames of the situation when word spreads around school, and the one who would suffer the most would be you. 

but it appears that yamasaki is asking, practically begging for it, as he continues his goading. “maybe i need to get a taste of her, considering how well she has you wrapped around her finger.”

the thread explodes. 

red. red is all ushijima could see as someone grabs a hold of yamasaki’s collar and throws a fist into his cocky face. he is so full of shit. a killing calm descends on ushijima as he watches the person pull his arm back and send another punch to yamasaki. again. and again. 

he vaguely registers his friend shouting his name and pulling on his arm with a few of other students. semi and ohira, he realizes. puzzled, he looks down to see his hand gripping tightly onto the front of yamasaki’s uniform, and his left hand is covered in blood. 

oh. oh. that was him who punched the asshole.

ushijima releases his hold on yamasaki, breathing heavily as the gravity of the situation settles in. it isn’t some inconsequent drama to circulate around school anymore. 

yamasaki struggles to stand, coughing out blood. his nose sits crookedly on his face, most possibly broken. but he has the nerve to smirk, as much as he could, at ushijima. “not so strong now, are you?”

“says the one with a sorry state for a face,” semi retorts, tense from the whole situation.

he merely wipes at his bloodied face, waving semi off. “i am not the one you need to worry about. i am also not the one who is risking his spot on the under 19 team for the youth world championship with a scandal.”

ushijima recoils, blood running cold. was that his goal all along? 

“maybe, i will forgive your actions, if you get on your knees and beg,” yamasaki pauses, a dark glint in his eyes, “and give y/n to me.”

his words have ushijima struggling to break free from his teammates, caution thrown to the winds, ready to beat him to a pulp. 

“let go of me!” ushijima growls. fuck the consequences, there is no way in hell he will let this asshole lay a finger on you.

he does not notice the crowd parting as the students recognize you and allow you space to get to the front of the commotion. the frown on your face from witnessing the latter half of the events unfolding after you yielded to chika’s curiosity of the commotion that sent students running in the hallways and getting their friends to join them. the sigh that escapes your lips from being the center of the drama. 

“is that all it really takes?” your voice stops him in his attempts to break free, his head snapping towards you in shock.

ushijima has not felt fear in years, certainly not on the volleyball court, not since his parents had a messy divorce, but your words send his heart dropping to the floor. “y/n–”

“stay out of it.” you breathe sharply at him, needing your wits about you if you were to get him out of this situation unscathed. turned away from yamasaki, you let out a trembling breath and steel your nerves. 

you’ve worn a mask in your own home for years, this is nothing, you remind yourself. sure, the whispers would spread, but for him, you would wreck yourself. to hell with this asshole if he dares to try to bring ushijima down. ironic, considering you distanced yourself to save your own heart. when it is all said and done, it still belongs to him.  

“unfortunately, i am not an object that ushijima can simply give away, yamasaki-san, but am i worth the lengths you went to?” 

you observe as his eyes dart behind you at ushijima. so that’s how it is. you are not what he wants. what he wants is to get to ushijima, for reasons you can surmise from the gossip that had been floating around the last week. 

if you play your cards right, you could twist his arm behind his back, figuratively speaking. he would have no choice but to back down, you hope. if not… you don’t want to even think about it. this has to be enough.

“why don’t i propose you a better trade?” you bat your lashes at the scum in front of you, playing the role of the ever helpless girl using her body to get away with things. praying to the gods above that he will take the bait. just come a little closer and i will show you my teeth, bastard.

surely, you can’t be thinking of actually going out with yamasaki, ushijima tries to convince himself as he watches you smile at the asshole coyly. you are smarter than that, and he is not worth your sacrifice. 

or is he? he averts his eyes as you lean in towards yamasaki. shoves the prickling sense of unfamiliar discomfort down. shushes the pealing bells in his mind. the urge to pummel his face to nothing. 

he tries to put his mind elsewhere, but a sense of inevitability creeps in. dread, he realizes, crawls up his spine and makes its home there.

he wants to shout at you. something. anything. anything but this. he doesn’t need to be in the youth 19 team. he would rather risk it all. he doesn’t need anything, doesn’t want anything but you by his side. and the thought of it terrifies him.

“wakatoshi-kun,” tendo nudges him and grabs his attention away from his thoughts. he follows tendo’s gaze towards you and takashima, whose cocky smirk was completely wiped off his bloodied and bruised face and replaced by a paleness that looked like fear. “that’s your girl.”

“i’m so glad we were able to come to an understanding, takashima-san. i would hate for such a nasty argument to get even more out of hand, don’t you agree? now that we are on the same page, i’m sure this won’t happen again. right, takashima-san?” ushijima shudders at the underlying hostility in your fake cheery voice that is directed towards takashima. he never wants to be on the receiving end of it, he thinks. 

you lay a hand on his arm, an eerily innocent smile on your face. and takashima winces, nodding quickly and too eagerly compared to his earlier behavior. 

“i guess we will see you around?” ushijima catches on to the hidden demand under your nice words. you better stay away from us. “oh, do you need a hand to the nurse’s office?”

what exactly did he miss? but he is too awestruck by the way you turned the situation around that he forgot to correct tendo’s earlier statement. 

he tunes out takashima’s stuttering response as you turn around, a frown finding its way onto your beautiful features as your cold eyes land on him. barely registers tendo calling “show’s over” and gesturing at the crowd to disperse and mind their own business.

he hates the mask you are wearing, pushing everyone, and him, away as a defense mechanism. he hates that he is the reason you had to don it today to protect him from his own actions.   

ushijima finds himself reaching out to you to smooth out the furrow in your brows, only to be met by resistance. your slender fingers hook onto his wrist, halting his movement for a split second before dropping his hand like a hot potato. 

“people are watching,” you remind him. your eyes catch on his left hand, where the skin on his knuckles was split, hesitating on your next words. “you should get that treated.”

he frowns, already missing the feeling of your skin on his. why would he care that people are watching?

the four of them end up walking to the nurse’s office with ohira dismissing himself from the group for some errand he had to run for his class. tendo being tendo, starts pestering you about what you did and how you did it despite your clipped answers. 

ushijima finds himself staring at the back of your head, unsure if you are just a figment of his imagination from how long he went without interacting with you. next to him, semi nods his head at you, “she doesn’t hate you, you know.”

he stays quiet. if that’s true, then why are you so intent on avoiding him?

“you are both impossible,” semi huffs in disbelief. 

finding the nurse’s office empty, semi lets your little group into the dark room. tendo beelines for the cabinet, rummaging for supplies. you didn’t have the energy to tell them that they should probably wait for the nurse to come back.

you keep to the door, fidgeting as if you could not decide to stay or go. “see you guys” you blurt, feet moving quickly out the door.

“y/n–” ushijima panics. is this it? is this all he has left of you?

“i’ll go talk to her.” semi promises, running after you, leaving ushijima in tendo’s hands.

they sit in silence as tendo cleans up ushjima’s bloodied knuckles, the latter unphased by the sting of disinfectant on raw skin with his entire focus on the doorway. wishing. 

sure enough, semi returns with an uneasy y/n in tow, looking like you would rather be anywhere but there. 

he makes you sit on the bed across from ushijima, an indecipherable look in his eyes. “stay, you two need to talk. tendo and i will be right outside.” translation: don’t think about leaving until you talk to him. to which you return an unamused look, crossing your arms in a defensive manner.

you wait until the door clicks closed behind them before stealing a glance at ushijima. his stare displaces you, as if there is nothing more important than you. unbelievable, you think. 

you open your mouth to say something – something mean and hurtful so that he would stop looking at you like he cared, but decide against it, knowing full well your anger, the serpent that rarely rears its head is nasty when it does. 

“why are you avoiding me?” he breaks the silence. the first words you’ve heard from him in a long while, not counting the short exchange earlier and during orchestra practice. you would be lying if you said you didn’t miss his voice. that it didn’t calm the wary hissing wild animal in you on some subconscious level.

“why do you care, ushijima?” the name still leaves a bitter taste on your tongue even though you have tried to get over it. you don’t actually love him, right? it’s just a schoolgirl infatuation. or at least, that is what you keep telling yourself, hoping that it will be true when you repeat it enough times. 

“you are my friend, y/n.” his eyes snap to yours, begging you to understand. 

the feeling of drowning creeps in, bringing you back to the first sleepless nights after you cut him off. how pathetic you were running after someone who did not even treat you as their friend. how worthless. how you went from wishing that he saw you as you are to wishing that he never walked into your life.

“no, if i am your friend, then why didn’t you tell me about the nationals? fuck, i had to find out from semi, and it was only because they needed me to stop you from hurting yourself. what the fuck am i to you, ushijima wakatoshi?” you snap at him. 

he starts to say something, but you are not done, not yet. 

“why bother? why save me from myself, tell me you’re my friend, when you certainly don’t act like it when it comes to yourself? do you think so little of me? or am i just some basket case to you?” your fists curl at your sides, angry tears threatening to escape your eyes, as you will them back. 

why did you start the fight? why? 

and then he is at your feet, kneeling and taking your hands into his, looking at you as if you are his salvation. “it was easy, caring for you. felt right, like second nature. you matter to me, but i–” he glances away for a second, almost too much, he thinks “–i don’t know how to let others do the same to me, even if it’s you, that didn’t come naturally. i’m sorry, y/n.” his knuckles are gentle against your skin, brushing away the tears that you didn’t realize started sliding down your cheeks.

the silence stretches, interrupted by your sniffles here and there. 

“talk to me.” he tucks the hair that is covering your face behind your ear. 

your voice is a pained quiet. “i was running away from you, afraid of what your answer could be. i was scared that you found me unworthy. i felt pathetic, yearning for your friendship if you didn’t feel the same way. but–” your throat tightens at your cowardice, realizing your own mistake.

“it could have been avoided if you just talked to me.” wakatoshi finishes your sentence for you.

“you’re a fucking hypocrite.” you retort, kicking his knee in pettiness. “don’t think you’re so easily forgiven.” and just like that he is forgiven. your heart once again safely tucked away in his hands, returned to its owner after weeks of being torn away bleeding and broken by yours. 

it’s unfair, really. the effortlessness it takes on his part to make you whole unknowingly. maybe you were born without a heart, given away to ushijima by fate. maybe he is meant to come into your life and give it back, to remind you that you are alive, and to live. 

you keep telling yourself that he is meant for more than you. which is the truth. but it is also because you are afraid of losing him forever.  

but he recognizes the way you deflect away from your own vulnerability. “make me beg for it, i’ll do anything to redeem myself.” you mean too much to me.

“anything?” you tap your chin, pretending to be deep in thought. “how about going to the tanabata festival in your kuromontsuki haori hakama?” 

you are trying to see how far he would go to satisfy your demands. usually people wear yukatas to summer festivals, the most casual traditional option, and the most comfortable one in the sweltering heat of summer. a kuromontsuki haori hakama is the highest rank of kimono for men and only worn for formal occasions like weddings and funerals. 

but you would kill to see him in one, and it doesn’t hurt to ask.

“that would be a little difficult… how about a haori hakama?” which is less formal than what you suggested, though enough that he will still stick out like a sore thumb in the crowd, but– “fine.” you wanted to see him in a full formal kimono. 

“i get the crispy ends of your katsu.” nod. “give me a piggyback ride home.” an eyebrow raise, but nod. “i want the only bottle of grape squash that you guys buy every single time.” nod. 

“no more keeping secrets from me.” 

“done.”

“i will have to think of more later, you’re currently on probation.” you narrow your eyes at him, gesturing with your hand, i’m watching you. he catches it deftly, getting all up in your space. 

your breath hitches as he comes eye to eye with you, only inches to spare. “i’m sorry. i’ll do better, i promise.” 

you hear his words, sure, but the thunderous beating of your heart is coming from every direction, deafening. in that moment, you forgot how to speak, tongue twisted in a way that cannot be undone. so you panic, feet kicking out instinctively. 

several things happen in quick succession. wakatoshi grunts, curling backwards in pain. the door bursts open as semi and tendo comes running in to defuse the situation. you sit there in shock. tendo starts cackling at the scene in front of him, tears shining in his eyes. 

“damn, one after another, y/n, you’re putting these boys down real hard.” he wipes his eyes with laughter.

“it was an accident!” 

“sure, sure, if you say so.” he slowly backs out of the room, having a distinctive feeling that you may want to land one on him too. 

“get back here, tendo satori! oi, where do you think you are going? you still need to dress toshi’s wounds.” you dash at him. 

“back to toshi now, are we? why don’t you do it yourself?” he snickers, running away.

semi shakes his head at the two of you, glancing at his captain who is still recovering from your kick in the nuts. he winces at the thought of it. “you good?”

ushijima looks towards where tendo now has an arm thrown over your shoulders, affectionately ruffling your hair, utterly unfazed by the way you are snapping at him. 

“i told you, i am not telling you! it defeats the purpose of what i said to that scum if i told you! get your dirty hands off of me.” you frown at the redhead, and then as if sensing his eyes on you, you point at ushijima. “you, don’t ever pick fights again even if i get dragged into it, it’s not worth it.” 

“but he picked a fight with ushijima-kun first.” 

“why, you brat. do you want to find out what dirty secrets i know about you?”

“wah, scary, y/n-chan. remind me to never get on your bad side.” 

you make a face at tendo, which ushijima finds adorable. his lips quirk in a smile at the scene unfolding in front of them, finally responding to semi’s earlier question. 

“yeah. yeah, i think so.”

“ushijima-kun, you’re down bad.”

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