#just putting this… out there into words. because i must say it

[traveler-at-heart]

Sister, wife?

Summary: The team mistakes you for Natasha's sister when you first meet.

Request by @lynattyx

Loki again.

Thor seemed more annoyed than anyone else, but that was only logical. He had spent centuries putting up with his brother.

“Hey, don’t sweat it. Siblings can be a pain” Natasha tried to comfort him, while he looked ready to release a storm over Loki outsmarting him and escaping.

“Speaking from experience, Red?” Stark asked with a curious stare.

“Got a sister” Natasha shrugged her shoulders, looking out the window of the Quinjet as if she hadn’t said anything interesting.

“Really? What’s her name?” Steve said, intrigued.

“I won’t tell you, because if I say it three times you’ll summon her. That’s a reference from…”

“Yeah, I got it” Steve nodded. “I didn’t really like that Beetlejuice”

“That’s because you hate fun” Tony said, stepping forward. “Alright, we have a signal. Anyone up for a cigar? Loki’s close to Cuba”

—

“Lay low. That’s pretty much all you can do now” Maria said with a somber tone over the comms.

Loki had gone a little too far this time, almost getting half of Havana blown up.

Needless to say, the US wasn’t happy with the diplomatic mess the Avengers had created. Maybe that was Loki’s plan all along; make it impossible for them to go after him with the American government on their backs.

Well, he got what he wished for.

“I don’t suppose we can go to the Compound, then” Tony mumbled. “Barton, Red? Any ideas?”

“Coordinates are set. We’ll be there in a few hours. Try to get some sleep. All of you”

No one was in the mood to ask questions. If Natasha said it was a safe place, then they’d take her word for it and be done with the matter.

“You sure about this?” Clint said, looking at her from the copilot seat.

“Yeah. She’ll just give me a hard time for not telling her in advance. You know how she likes to have everything extra clean when there are guests”

“How did you manage to score such a gal?” he joked and Natasha glared at him.

“Hey, I’m a catch. My mac and cheese is delicious”

“Whatever you say, Tasha”

—

The Quinjet landed, and the only way you could tell was by the tree branches moving with a sudden gust of wind.

“Hey” Natasha said with a coy smile, going up the steps as the rest of the team got off the jet, looking around curiously.

“Welcome home” you pulled her into a hug. “Should have told me they were coming, and I could have cleaned up a bit”

“I missed you too” she joked against your ear, and as she was about to lean and kiss you, Tony interrupted the moment.

“Hey, Romanoff and Romanoff”

“You must be Tony. I’ve heard a lot about you”

“Have you? Because Natasha here didn’t tell us much about you”

“She was probably worried about you running your mouth” you joked, making him smirk.

“You have heard about me”

As Steve walked in, Natasha waited for Clint to show him something she wanted to fix in the garage.

The house was big and in the middle of a little wooded area.

“You’re gonna have to share rooms. And someone will sleep on the couch” you warned them.

“Not it” Tony said, as you pulled out a pillow and a blanket from the closet.

“I’ll take the couch” Steve offered, which of course he did. “Thank you…”

“Y/N” you nodded, waiting for Tony to follow you.

“Barton? Thor?” he looked around.

“Oh, Clint’s probably scolding Natasha because she didn’t fix the ceiling like he told her to” you laughed. “Thor flew away like thirty seconds after landing. And burned part of my lawn in the process”

“So sorry about that. It’s quite the thing to hang out with these brutes. So, uh, what do you do?”

“I’m a Psychiatrist” you answered, opening the door to the guest room.

“Get to see Natasha a lot?”

“Not as much as I’d like”

“Come by the Compound anytime you like. I’ll send you a pass or shall I just say your name three times?”

“What?” you tilted your head in confusion.

“Nothing. Thanks for letting us crash” he rubbed his neck.

“Sure. Get some rest”

You ran into Clint as he went upstairs, knowing his way around the house.

“She’s outside”

“Is she… is she ok?” you said, sighing. It was one thing to see it in the news, and another one to know she was out there risking her life against literal Gods and aliens.

“Just tired” he assured you. “Seeing you will help. Have a good night”

“You too. Sorry to say you’re sharing a room with Tony”

“Ah, jeez” he groaned, making you laugh.

Steve was lying in the couch, restless. He waved at you shyly as you walked out, knowing Natasha was waiting in the porch.

Honestly? They were a nice bunch.

“Hey” you said, stepping out.

“Hi, detka”

“You ok?” you said, leaning your chin against her shoulder, with your arms around her waist.

“Just tired”

“Funny, that’s exactly what Clint said”

Natasha chuckled at that, squeezing your hands.

“He knows me”

“I know you better”

“Do you, now?” she turned around, quirking up an eyebrow and smiling at you. “So, what do you think I want right now?”

“Cuddles with your wife and then tomorrow morning I think you’ll be in the mood for blueberry pancakes and hot cocoa”

“Damn, you do know me well” she laughed, kissing your temple. “Come on, let’s go to bed”

—

You were up next morning, and unsurprisingly, Steve had already been out and running a good ten miles.

“The rest?” he said after greeting you.

“Clint got up early to fix what Natasha broke trying to fix the other thing that broke, God bless his soul. Tony’s asleep and so is Nat”

“Really? Even Romanoff? She’s up at break of dawn”

“Nah, not when she’s home. Now clean yourself up, breakfast is almost done”

“Yes, Ma’am”

Natasha was the first one down, as your room had a private bathroom. By the sounds from upstairs, you suspected the boys were arguing over who go to use the other restroom first.

“Hear that sound? Children. Ready for all that?” Natasha said.

“Yeah, but ours will be cute. And we’ll make Clint build another bathroom” you said, getting a pancake out of the pan.

“You’re so smart, that’s why I love you”

“Only that?” you said, laughing as you felt her hands go around your waist.

“Among other things”

You turned around to protest, but her lips stopped you from saying anything.

“I did miss this” she said, pulling you closer to deepen the kiss. You moaned against her mouth, forgetting there were more people in the house until you heard Tony slam the door to the bathroom. Natasha went to get some coffee, and you wished she’d kept kissing you.

But the teasing would be endless if they caught you in the middle of it.

“Bathroom's all yours, Cap! Morning, Romanoffs”

“Morning, Tony” you said. “Help yourself to some pancakes and coffee”

“Delicious, thank you”

Steve came down a few minutes later, at the same time Clint walked in, announcing that he had fixed the thing.

“You’re a hero” you said, grateful. “Don’t worry, darling, you’ll get it right next time” you added as Natasha pouted.

“Mean”

“It comes with the territory, doesn’t it?” Tony said. “Including all the hair pulling and slapping and fighting for bras”

“Ah, what?” you said, confused.

“Hey, don’t speak to my wife that way, asshole” Natasha slapped the back of his head, making him choke on his coffee.

“Did you just say wife?” he turned to look between the two of you.

“Yes, Y/N is my wife. Who did you think she was?”

“The maid?” you joked.

“The sister!” Tony looked at Steve for backup.

“Well, to be fair… yeah”

“My sister’s name is Yelena” Natasha said, massaging her temples. “Y/N and I have been married for almost two years now. And I didn’t want you to know because you’ll be insufferable about it”

“Babe, they’ve been good so far” you chuckled, squeezing her hand.

“We can behave, honey boo” Tony said.

“Ok, yeah. I get it now” you rolled your eyes.

“Either way, you’re coming to our party” Tony said, poruing himself more coffee.

“When is it?”

“Whenever we get our hands on that Asgardian bastard”

“Language” you said at the same time as Steve.

“This is gonna be fun” Tony laughed, looking at you over his cup of coffee. “Welcome to the family, Mrs. Romanoff”

[like-a-gutted-fish]

i am a child.

i am forced into a dress. makeup is smeared onto my face. i kick and cry and beg, but they will not stop.

i am forced to pose in front of the camera with my thighs together and hope that the makeup hides my tearstains. i must be the perfect picture of femininity; innocent, untouched.

i already have a thousand hand prints on me.

'all men are evil rapists', i am told.

i think about my friends, who are men. the men who called me every day while i was in a psychiatric hospital. the men who walked me home when i was afraid. the men who protected and cared for me, without ever expecting my body in return.

it can't be the body that makes someone evil. it can't be the presence of a penis that makes someone evil. but it can't be the identity of 'man' that makes you evil, either.

i ponder the difference between the men who raped me and the men who protected me. i decide that it depends on who the person is inside, and not on their identity.

'sit down and shut up,' they spit at me. 'the men are talking. learn your place. don't speak over us.'

'you throw like a girl.'

'you run like a girl.'

'girls can't do this. they're not smart enough.'

'girls aren't strong enough to do this.'

over and over, such sentiments are tossed at me. i bite down my anger, because women aren't supposed to yell or get angry. if i get angry, that makes me a hysterical bitch.

'women are meant to be mothers,' i am told. they beat it into me that my worth lies not in my personhood, but in the womb between my hips. it makes me feel sick and violated, just like every sexual assault has.

i am groped. i am raped. i am assaulted.

it's my fault, i'm told. i'm a temptress. my body is a vile weapon, a weapon created to tempt men into sin, a weapon that makes me a subhuman toy.

i am treated like a toy. as i am molested during my childhood, i learn that i am a toy. the anatomy between my hips has marked me as public property. i am less than human.

they keep forcing me into dresses. they keep forcing me into makeup. no amount of protesting makes it end. i grow to loathe femininity and the violation that always seems to come with it.

i come out as a trans man at fifteen.

'can't you just be nonbinary?'

'can't you just be a tomboy?'

'i don't want you to regret this.'

'i don't want you to ruin your perfect body.'

'men are disgusting. why do you want to be one of them?'

'are you sure you don't just want to be a man because you were sexually assaulted?'

i continue to be a man. my parents intentionally delay my ability to go on testosterone. by the time i am able to go on testosterone, i have already finished puberty. my body is irreversibly feminine.

people throw food at me. they call me a faggot, a tranny, a dyke. they kick me and shove me to the ground. they cyberstalk me. they post pictures of me online so that they can mock me.

a girl says to me, 'you need to learn your place,' as she calls me a faggot over the internet. she kicks me when she sees me the next day.

my boyfriend when i am fifteen is a cis man who says he is pansexual. he dismisses me when i talk about being trans, because he uses he/they pronouns and 'understands it'.

he sexually assaults me repeatedly. i am in constant distress. my distress is used as proof that i am a snowflake hysterical tranny. i am a hysterical woman who only THINKS she's a man, and i need to be put in my place. trans 'men' are all hysterical and overreactive, and my behaviour is used as proof.

my boyfriend exclusively refers to me with they/them pronouns. i tell him to use he/him. he waves his hand, dismissing my words, and says, 'they're basically the same thing'.

he tells me that he wants children. i try to ignore the sick feeling in my gut.

he only uses he/him pronouns for me after we have broken up, when he is trying to paint me as abusive. i lose my entire friend group because of it.

people keep talking down to me. when i go on testosterone, cis men try to explain that it's toxic for me, using cis man bodybuilders as an example. i try to explain how that isn't the case. they insist that 'female bodies aren't built to handle testosterone'. i try to explain to them how hormones work, and they laugh and roll their eyes.

silly girl. stupid girl. she doesn't know what she's talking about.

people continue to make fun of trans men online. our music, our art, our interests, our fashion sense, our names. i cannot help but feel dejected. all i want is to be a man, and to fit in among everyone else, but even in doing so, i stand out as a target for mockery. misogyny is inescapable, even for men.

i am seventeen years old. my worst fear comes true. i am raped and forcibly impregnated, with the intention of forcing me to detransition.

that sense of violation is impossible to truly describe.

my reproductive system was designed to become pregnant. my body will do its best to become pregnant, no matter what i want. pregnancy is an inescapable function of my body, and it makes me feel trapped and sick.

the man who raped me has turned my own body into a weapon against me. even in my body, my own flesh and sinew, i am not safe.

i miscarry. i am in agony. my womb cramps and i try not to pass out.

i enter feminist spaces. i try to talk about my experiences with misogyny.

'sit down and shut up,' they spit at me. 'the women are talking. learn your place. don't speak over us.'

all trans men have male privilege, you see, without exception. by the mere act of wanting to become a man, i have become a traitor, and i am thrown to the cis men.

the cis men, who see me as a woman that they're finally allowed to abuse. finally, they can hurt and rape and impregnate a woman, because she's one of those snowflake trannies and she needs to be put in her place.

i bite down my anger, because trans men aren't supposed to yell or get angry. if i get angry, it's proof that i'm not a man, that i'm a hysterical bitch, and that i'm a dangerous snowflake tranny seeking to mutilate children.

the sentiment is bitterly familiar.

[steddieas-shegoes]

guilt fades, scars remain

written as part of @st-loveconfessions february kindness event for today: write a fic based on art! the moment I saw this absolutely stunning art by @stervrucht, I knew I had to get some words out. @runninriot also wrote something inspired by this art and it's just as stunning as the art itself, you can find that here!

rated m | 1031 words | cw: blood and injury | tags: eddie munson lives, steve rescues eddie, eddie has a crush on steve, pre-relationship, open ending but assume they're getting together

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

The tears drip. The rain hits the roof. The sweat builds along his hairline.

Eddie’s alone. He’s scared. He’s sick of feeling pain everywhere.

“Eddie?”

The voice is back. He should be happy. Hearing Steve’s voice is a relief compared to what he’s been feeling for so long. He’s not even sure how long he’s been stuck here. Hours, days, weeks?

Years?

“Eddie.”

The voice is clear, but it’s always clear. Sometimes it’s far, sometimes it’s close. It sounds worried, but talking back to it doesn’t help.

He’s sure of only one thing: Steve Harrington’s voice is a balm on his nerves and patience alike. If he can’t have the real Steve saving him, he’s glad he at least has his voice in his ears.

Cool hands are covering his naked chest. It feels so nice, like an ice pack on an injury.

He supposes he does have an injury. Probably a lot if the shooting pains across his side and legs are anything to go off of.

“Eddie, hey.”

Eddie blinks. His vision focuses.

“There you go. Keep your eyes open. I’m getting you out of here.”

“Steve?”

“Yeah, it’s me. Sorry we kept you waiting so long.”

Eddie’s got tunnel vision, which is weird for a hallucination. Or maybe it’s not. He’s only done shrooms once and he barely even hallucinated before he passed out.

Eddie reaches one hand up to try to feel if Steve is real. He touches bare skin and he laughs.

“‘S fake.”

Steve’s got a lot of hair on his chest, he remembers from when he jumped into the lake. He remembers thinking how nice it must be to fall asleep on his chest, run his fingers through the soft hair there.

“What’s fake?” Steve asks.

An interactive hallucination is very strange, but it’s a nice distraction from the pain. It fades in and out like the intro and outro to songs. He’s gotta figure out how to put this into music.

“You,” he answers. There’s still no other voices and there’s no way Steve would rescue him alone. No one would let him come down here alone. “Me.”

“We’re not fake, Eddie. I knew we should’ve come back sooner. You’re fuckin’ delirious,” Steve sounds panicked now, and Eddie doesn’t want that. Hallucination Steve should be relaxed.

“Calm. Hurts, but calm.”

He’s being lifted up slowly and he’s sitting for the first time since the bats started trying to eat him. Feels a little weird, something internally screams, and then he realizes he’s actually screaming externally.

Steve’s trying to keep him calm and quiet, shushing him as he pulls him to his shoulder, hand tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck. It’s nice, smelling something that’s not the stench of the Upside Down or his own blood. Feeling something human where all he’s known is dirt and ash.

“It’s gonna hurt for a few minutes, but it’ll be worth it,” Steve’s saying in his ear.

Eddie raises an arm. It hurts. It’s not as bad as when he sat up, but it’s more pain than he should be feeling.

He must make a noise because Steve’s burying his nose into Eddie’s hair and it feels intimate in a way that doesn’t belong here. This place is broken, Eddie is broken, and Steve is stable.

“I’m gonna lift you up. Is anything broken?” Steve whispers against the side of his head.

Eddie hopes he remembers all of this. He hopes when he wakes up— if he wakes up— the first thought he has is about Steve touching him like this, making him feel alive and precious, worthy.

He must’ve answered Steve because he feels the ground fall out from under him and then searing pain in his side. Steve’s carrying him and he’s going to black out from the pain.

“Just a few minutes. Just hang on a few minutes. For me, Eddie,.”

Eddie can do anything in his dreams, so he hangs on for a while and then everything goes dark.

++++

“Eddie.”

The voice again.

It’s not clear this time, but he knows it’s Steve.

“Eddie, wake up.”

He blinks his eyes open and immediately closes them again, whining at the obnoxious bright light right in his eyes. If heaven is this bright, he’s not interested.

“Sorry. Let me turn those off.”

Steve’s voice is clearer now, sinking into his brain as the memories start to float back to him. Steve saved him. Steve showed up in the Upside Down shirtless and-

“Where was your shirt?” Eddie asks, voice raspy and trembling. He sounds as weak as he feels.

“My…shirt?” Steve asks.

“Y’were naked,” Eddie continues. “Nipples everywhere.”

Steve lets out a bark of a laugh and Eddie is going to combust. Making Steve laugh might be the best thing he’s ever done in his life…or death, if he’s dead.

“I was using it to stop the blood on your leg,” Steve explains. “It was still bleeding.”

He sounds…haunted.

“Did I die?”

Eddie focuses on Steve, the way he holds himself as if he’s in trouble, the way he won’t look directly at Eddie’s face. He’s guilty, but Eddie can’t imagine why.

“No. I don’t know how, but no.”

“You saved me.”

“I was almost too late.”

Eddie hums in protest. He’s too tired to argue, but he knows he’s right. Steve saved him. It doesn’t matter how long it took, or how many shirts were ruined in the process. He’s alive.

“C’mere,” Eddie whispers.

Steve steps closer. Eddie manages to grip his shirt, not tight, but enough for Steve to look down and then back up, finally settling on his face.

“Y’did good,” Eddie says. He closes his eyes hoping that’ll conserve energy to say what he needs to. “Thank you.”

“Eddie-“

“Sit. Sleep.”

He’s not sure if Steve listens because he’s already drifting back out of consciousness, but he can feel the weight of Steve’s hand in his and he’s pretty sure he’s not gonna let go.

When he wakes up, he still feels Steve’s hand in his.

His eyes flutter open to see Steve asleep in the chair next to his bed.

Shirt on, unfortunately.

[etherealyoungk]

─ ♡ crash course in romance | kwon soonyoung (TEASER)

SUMMARY: meet kwon soonyoung, he’s the ultimate goofball— sweet and chaotic but clueless when it comes to romance. so when you ask him to be your fake boyfriend even though you barely know him, he says yes, even though he's never dated before and has no idea what to do. as you show him the ropes and coach him on how to be the perfect boyfriend and slowly get to know him, soonyoung finds himself slowly falling for you. and maybe, just maybe, you're falling for him too

PAIRING: kwon soonyoung x fem!reader

GENRE: strangers to lovers, fake dating, best friend’s brother, first love, light slow burn, humour.

WARNINGS: kissing, fluff, angst, mentions of alcohol and alcohol consumption, use of curse words, little suggestive, cameo of roommate!seungkwan and other svt members, hoshi being a clueless idiot

WORDCOUNT: teaser wc - 1.2k | estimated full fic wc: 30k

A/N: FINALLY WRITING A LONG FIC FOR MY HUBBY! this is my teaser for my fic that is part of the lonely hearts cafe collab by @camandemstudios! if you want to be apart of the taglist for this fic, comment/send an ask or sign up for the taglist form here.

you’re about to pull up at your best friend, jihyo’s place and you dial her number, calling her up. she picks up after four rings, her voice filling the space in your car.

“hey”, she says. “hey jihyo, i’m about to reach your place to collect my mail and other packages”, you say. “oh, i’m actually not at home right now, but i’ll tell soonyoung to hand them over to you, i think he’s dropped by”, jihyo says.

you can hear the bustle of people talking through the phone as she speaks. you decipher that she must be at work. “sure, okay”, you say, cutting the call before jihyo mumbles something about calling you back later and you pull up at her driveway a few minutes later.

you step out of the car and walk up, ringing her doorbell. usually you’d ring the doorbell and walk right in, but considering she wasn’t there, you didn’t want to suddenly intrude, it felt odd. you wait a few moments and you can hear the shuffle of feet from the inside, along with a soft thud of something falling, probably a box. the door finally opens and you’re greeted by kwon soonyoung - jihyo’s younger brother.  

“hey, yn right? jihyo told me you’re here to collect your mail and stuff”, he says with a slightly frazzled face, like he was put to this task last minute and had no idea what to do, like a deer in headlights. you nod and he gestures for you to enter and you walk inside as he disappears back in the other room, probably to fetch your mail. you’d asked jihyo to drop by your place if she could to collect your mail since you’d been out of town for two weeks on a business trip and didn’t want anyone stealing your packages or snooping around.

you’d known jihyo ever since you joined university. she was your roommate and now bestfriend. she was kind, sweet, funny and a little chaotic, but you loved everything about her. so naturally, you’d been to her house countless times, and met her brother too - soonyoung. he was two years younger than jihyo and you, and he was honestly really sweet. when you’d come over during the break or to hang out, you’d see soonyoung only occasionally or bump into him when you were entering or leaving as he’d always be doing his own thing. but now, you were probably seeing him for the first time since you graduated university and started a job, having moved a little further away. so it’s been almost three years since you saw soonyoung again, because whenever you’d meet jihyo now, it was always in the city or somewhere out, not at her home.

soonyoung had changed a lot. he’d grown tall and his hair, which had been virgin black was now dyed a silver blonde. it had grown too, his hair falling over his forehead in a cute shaggy mess and growing a little long at the ends, almost at the beginning stages of a mullet and somehow, he pulled it off, it looked good on him. his face was framed by soft rounded features and he somehow radiated a youthful, approachable glow about him. his almond-shaped eyes are soft, but also sharp, holding warmth. and lastly, he had definitely been hitting the gym because he looked different - he looked good.

two minutes later, soonyoung walks into the room holding a big box with a smaller box stacked on top of it along with a few small parcels and then envelopes. “this is all the stuff”, he announces, like he’d just accomplished a huge task by collecting all of this for you. 

“thanks!”, you say, taking a step forward to take the box but he speaks again. “let me load it up in your car, it’s a bit heavy”, he says as he looks at you, blinking. “okay, sure”, you say and you open the door, walking outside towards your car with soonyoung following beside you. you unlock the car and pop open the trunk and soonyoung sets down the pile of boxes with a soft thud before taking a step back. 

“thanks again soonyoung”, you say, looking up at him. now that he was right next to you, you realise how tall he’d actually grown. he gives you a polite smile as he runs a hand through his silver blonde hair, the strands of hair getting messed up, falling on his forehead in a cutely dishevelled way. “it’s no problem”, he says and with that you give him another small wave and head out, driving back home.

when you get home, you find your apartment spick and span - quite the contrast to which you had left it, considering you had left on the business trip in rather short notice. but now as you walk inside, your shoes are all neatly lined up by the side, the bunch of laundry that had been rotting on your bed for two weeks was neatly folded and kept aside in your wardrobe, your mugs which had piled up were all neatly rinsed and washed and your fridge was stocked with new food - no doubt all the doings of your mother. 

you immediately reach for your phone and dial your mother’s number and she picks up almost immediately, like she had been waiting for your call. you drag your suitcase to your room and leave it there, taking off your coat and throwing it on your bed.

“mom, did you drop by?”, you ask, already knowing the answer, but you liked to tease her. you visibly hear her sigh and hold back your laugh.

“no darling, a ghost dropped by your apartment”, she deadpans, making you let out the laugh you were holding. “i don’t even think a ghost would want to live in your apartment in that state”, she adds. 

“i was busy and i had to leave on short notice”, you counter. “that’s what you always say”, she says and you scowl. “it was really short notice”, you say and she only hums in response.

“thank you mom, i love and appreciate you for that”, you say after a moment. “i made your favourite, it’s in the fridge”, she adds and you smile. your mom really knew the way to your heart. you walk towards the kitchen and fill the kettle with some water.

“so, did you meet any cute guys on your trip”, she asks and you let out a small groan at her question. of course that’s what she’d ask you first, not how the trip was or how work was.

“no mom, it was a work trip”, you say, letting out a sigh. “still! you should keep an eye out”, she says. “after you broke up with jaehyun you’ve been sulking around. it’s time to find a guy and settle down”, she adds and just then the kettle lets out a whistle, signalling that the hot water is ready. you take a mug from the shelf and pour the boiling hot water, watching as the steam curl at the top before you drop in a tea bag, watching the tea leaves slowly seep into the water, turning the water into green tea.

“for the millionth time, he broke up with me mom, and i just need some space right now, i’m not in the mood for a relationship, nor do i have the time”, you tell as you take the mug of tea and walk over to the couch, plopping down on it, putting the mug on the table beside you.

“nonsense, if you start dating again you’ll feel better. do you want me to find someone for you? i found this guy, i’ll send you his picture, i can set you up with him on a blind date and -”, you cut her off.

“mom, i’m serious about the no dating thing right now”, you say and she clicks her tongue in disapproval. “i’ll still send you his picture if you change your mind”, she says as you take a sip of the hot tea.

if you want to be added to the taglist for this fic, send a comment/ask!

taglist: @joshuaahong @paindivinemp3 @fallingforshua29 @itsveronicaxxx @frankenstein852 @weird-bookworm @mirxzii @naaaaafla @gyubakeries @lvlystars @icyminghao @kyeomyun @ihrtboo @n4mj00nvq @yoozuku @imujings @wheeboo

[thegreatgatslin]

UNDER THE TABLE - k. yukimiya x reader (18+)

tw: afab reader, public sex, fingering, cum eating (at the end) karasu and otoya cameo because i said so, it’s okay though they don’t find out, kenyu is a little shit, also ooc?? || wc: 1k-ish || divider creds @cafekitsune

you’ve always known that your boyfriend kenyu yukimiya isn’t always the good boy he seems to be.

sure, in front of the camera’s he’s bastard münchen’s golden boy - he hasn’t been carded on the pitch a single time to date, mind you - and he’s a literal model, so he kind of has to put on his ‘good-boy’ charm for the cameras; it’s his job. and he’s always a perfect gentleman to you.

but there are also times when he lets a different side of himself show. gossiping about his teammates (which you secretly kind of enjoy listening to), and sneaking out after his curfews to see you. sometimes he even goes so far as to lean down, lips brushing your ear, and whisper something truly scandalous, making you blush furiously.

this, though? this takes the cake.

you squirm in your seat, glaring at kenyu, who just offers you a picture-perfect smile. how does he still have his poker face on when he knows damn well what he’s doing to you?

when he knows that under your skirt, under your panties -

“hey.” karasu waves his hand in front of your face, a look of concern on his own. “ya holding up alright? yer a little… off t’day.”

“stomachache,” you grit out. otoya shoots you what might be a sympathetic look.

“had some dodgy seafood last night,” kenyu chimes in, and you clench your jaw at the sound of his voice. “she hasn’t been feeling well since.”

“go to the bathroom if ya need,” karasu advises gently. “we can order for ya.”

“that’s very - kind of you!” the last few words come out an octave higher as the vibrator buzzes against your clit, causing you to clench around nothing. you sit up ramrod straight, pressing your thighs together to quell the sensation, but it’s no use. how can you act like everything’s normal when you’re on the verge of climaxing?

kenyu acts like he’s none the wiser about what’s happening, and to your absolute horror, he opens the app controlling your vibe and turns the fucking intensity down, keeping the vibe on, then sets his phone face down on the table beside him.

“you sure?” he says, feigning concern as he places a large palm on your thigh, thumb brushing the soft skin there. “i can bring you, if you need -”

and you want to scream at him, or slap him or something, because to karasu and otoya, kenyu just seems like a loving boyfriend. but to you? oh, he’s your torturer. putting his hand on your thigh like that, so tantalisingly close to where your slick is pooling in your panties.

and it’s as if he can read your mind, because he’s sliding his palm up your thigh and under your skirt (you shiver at the feeling, melting into his touch), hooking his thumb under the waistband of your underwear, pushing the vibrator up against your clit, increasing the pressure in the process.

you inhale sharply, thighs inadvertently squeezing around his wrist as you scrabble at the tablecloth, pulling it over your lower half to make sure no one else in the restaurant sees.

“good girl,” he murmurs, and you think you might just die.

“will you relax a little for me, darling?” his fingers are already at the entrance of your soaked hole, collecting the slick there. and you nod, whining quietly, feeling him push in slowly. you bite your inner lip when he finds your g-spot within seconds, strumming your walls expertly with his deft fingers.

you glance over at karasu and otoya, breathing heavily for fear of being noticed, but they seem to be preoccupied with something on the latter’s phone.

“fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck,” you whimper, grabbing onto his forearm, and you’re sure you must look absolutely pathetic right now, looking up at him with big doe eyes, unable to say anything but his name. “kenyu- i -”

but the sly bastard is starting a conversation with his friends now, chatting and laughing and turning up the speed on your vibe as his fingers piston in and out of your leaking cunt, all with that winning smile on his face.

“and we saw it happen right in front of our eyes, and i told her, isn’t that going overboard just a little?” kenyu laughs now, his pace only quickening as you squeeze around his long fingers, his fingers that are currently your undoing. “i mean, it’s kind of unbecoming of young people nowadays to show such affection in public, right? he was practically devouring her face, wasn’t he?” he looks towards you, expectant of a response. “wasn’t he?”

yeah, as if you aren’t currently doing much worse in a public place, where we could be caught so easily -

“yeah, he was,” you breathe. “just - really goin’ to town on her, y’know.” karasu snorts.

“alright, alright, we know you two virgins would never do anything of the sort,” otoya deadpans, eliciting a snicker from karasu. “seriously, guys, you just gotta fuck already.”

oh, otoya, if only you knew… 

kenyu shakes his head in mock reproach, smiling softly as he bullies his fingers into your syrupy cunt. “don’t say such crude things in front of a lady, otoya,” he chides.

between the delicious stimulation from the vibrator, the press of his fingers against your spongy spot, and the knowledge that you might get caught at any moment - it’s all pushing you to the edge. too hard, too fast.

“ken,” you gasp, eyes pleading - though you don’t know what you’re pleading for, exactly. “i think i’m - m’gonna -”

and it’s at this point he leans down to whisper into your ear -

“cum for me, my good girl.”

and you do.

it’s like sparks dancing before your eyes as you gush around him, maybe better than most of the orgasms he’s previously given you, to your chagrin.

he pulls his fingers out of you slowly, and you know that under the tablecloth he’s spreading them, feeling your essence like sticky webs between them. and as sit there, catching your breath, and wonder how he’s going to explain the sticky mess on his fingers to his friends -

the bastard knocks his fork off the table with his elbow, and as he bends down to pick it up - and licks his fingers clean of your cum, not breaking eye contact with you.

you gulp hard, feeling heat pool in your stomach at the undeniably lewd sight. kenyu simply smiles serenely at you, straightening up with his fork in hand.

“right, shall we order?”

a/n: okay so what the fu-

© thegreatgatslin || ✦ M.LIST ✦

[holyguardian]

Ifalna reached for her daughter with her left hand, no less concerned as she looked Aerith over. It was wildly out of character for her to come knocking at her parents door before she was prepared for the day — but she was open and upfront about the reasons. No doubt this was actually a visit from Prince Somnus.

A fact that was quickly verified when he stepped up to the conversation.

There came a tired little sigh from the Queen before she cast a look to her husband. This was inappropriate. Something she suspected that the young Prince must have been highly aware of, else he would have visited them just himself, not with their daughter as a shield. But she would not punish him when he came to them with such an important matter. After all, he was the future of their kingdom now, they needed a foundation of trust even when it was inconvenient and half-informed.

"Good morning, my sweetheart, and good morning Prince Somnus. I appreciate your concern, and of course I am open to suggestions that will strengthen the safety of our travel — we will be making our final arrangements after breakfast, you are welcome to oversee the changes for yourself." Changes that had been discussed between the ruling monarchs. Changes that would have come to light at breakfast, where such announcements would reach everyone at the same time.

"We have received word that King Jacob has engaged in a sustained skirmish with King Baldur's forces. It is reported that his army is currently split. Half of his numbers are marching west following the report of a flagrant pyromancer challenging and pushing back against an initial warning raid. This intelligence is thanks to your father, he sacrificed part of his elite Kingsguard to scout for these critical updates when a rumour first reached his borders."

Aerith blinked in the wake of all this information. While everyone else present would understand these important details for what they were, she looked like a lost little fawn among hunters, doe-eyed and innocent as she looked around the room. At least she wasn't expected to make any comments on these matters because she was incredibly far out of her depth and it showed. Her mother, meanwhile, was a swan. Calm and graceful on the surface, but beneath all of that she furiously worked to keep herself afloat. Oh, how sheltered she still was.

"It has been decided, to my displeasure, that I will return home with Prince Roran via flight. We will arrive before sun has set, I am told. My husband and I quietly discussed the possibility, fearing that the long nights in carriages may be too traumatising for the young Prince, but now there is an intensified urgency to pull our own numbers together in light of this advantage and in light of our agreement with Lucis being upheld. It is our hope that the days of your caravan travel will roughly align with the days of assembling our army." Hopefully these updates would begin to put the Prince's mind at ease.

Aerith perked up a little. Her attention shifted to her father, who remained silent and watchful, clearly in a thundering mood with how tensely he held himself. She approached and opened up her arms wide, then wider still so he wouldn't possibly be able to deny her a hug. "Looks like you're stuck with the problem child. It's probably for the best, Roran would be confused if it were you and Uncle Leif on Nidhogg."

"Aerith." Ifalna gently chastised. Though 'problem child' was a little on the nose for that morning. "I will not have you attend breakfast looking like you shoved your head out of a window and shook it around — away with you, my darling girl, you will present yourself nicely to our hosts."

Then she turned back to Prince Somnus, reaching with gentle fingers to subtly lift his chin. "You will be more closely informed from here on out. All of us are adjusting to rapid changes, but I hope you hear me when I say your opinions are valued — now, prepare yourself for breakfast. Your mother expressed her concern that you might try to dodge away, that her Somnus is a deep thinker who needs time to himself whenever he has a lot on his mind. As your very mean mother-in-law I am informing you now that you will not miss the last opportunity to sit with your family before a war darkens our horizons."

Something was… off. Somnus could tell. But he had no clue, what it was. Had he said something wrong…? Maybe he should not have brought up the consummating aspect. That was a strange practice after all. It sounded demeaning. And she had argued they were legitimate anyway… he would never force her to do anything of that kind. And neither would he push the idea of faking their supposed ‘duty’.

Though he decided to not bring it up again for now. It was… too strange. Hopefully she could forgive him.

He almost asked again when Aerith hurried through the corridors as if she could not bear to look at him anymore. Somehow that… made him uncertain again. An uncertainty he could not afford right now.

When they stood in front of her parents’ chambers, he wanted to grasp for her hand. A little urge that died down quickly, as suddenly Queen Ifalna stood right in front of them and Somnus straightened up.

Bowing a bit, he wished her a good morning. The same went out to Aerith’s father, who stood further back in the room. Yet not fully dressed, just in a simple shirt and pants, his arms crossed and his bleu eyes piercing Somnus as if he tried to impale him right here and now.

Oh.

Somnus lost his words for a moment. Eyes cast downward.

What was going on…?

“I…”

Enough. He needed to mind what laid ahead. That was all that counted. No current confusing emotions.

“Please forgive me for the intrusion, Your Majesty. But I have to voice my concern for the coming travel starting today. Princess Aerith was so kind to tell me how you got here… and I feel like that is not safe enough of a passage heading back. Jacob will surely send his men to attack us. A caravan is slow and unflexible. We have not enough men and to put all the royals together into one carriage would be just foolish. We have to divide everyone up. Better to even disguise you and Aerith specifically. Find stand ins. And have some of my most trusted warriors in the carriages, too.”

[fallinallincurls]

Miles Away, I've Always Loved You

this is my entry for the 2025 winter fic exchange hosted by the lovely @wyattjohnston!! thank you as always for hosting!

my fic is for @writingonleaves! i had lots of fun writing this one and really hope you love it just as much.

hope you enjoy!! feedback is always appreciated! xx

word count: 5.1k

The knock on the door startles Reagan out of her thoughts. She had been mentally trying to figure out how to organize the bookshelf in her living room now that it’s been built. 

The apartment is still mostly a mess. The move to Vancouver had been circled on her calendar for months, but Reagan knew the worst part about moving cross country completely by herself would be the unpacking and setting up of a new place. And so far, she’s been right. 

From putting together all the furniture on her own, opening and emptying box after box and feeling that same exhaustion hit her every few hours, the move has been an insane amount of work to say the least. But she couldn’t be happier knowing that she moved to this city that she’s still a little familiar with for the job of her dreams. That alone makes everything worth it.

There’s another knock at the door and Reagan lets out a deep sigh. She’s not expecting someone as no one in the city knows who she is since she just arrived three days ago. She abandons the stacks of books on the floor and heads to the door, wondering who could possibly be on the other side.

Without bothering to look through the peephole, which might’ve been a mistake, Reagan swings open the door to reveal a man she’s never seen before. He looks just a little older than her 25 years of age, has a big smile that wrinkles the corners of his eyes and his hair is neatly styled. Before she can even open her mouth to say anything, he’s already speaking.

“Oh, hey!” He says with an element of surprise in his voice. “I didn’t know Cap had a girl, but I’m new here so I'm still trying to learn all of that, you know?”

She doesn’t know in fact because she has no idea what he’s talking about and the confusion must be evident on Reagan’s face because he continues talking in effort to explain.

“Um, I’m here for the team dinner? Apparently it’s tradition here for the captain to host everyone before training camp starts and so I brought this,” he shows you a bottle of expensive wine and then a container of store bought cookies, “and these.”

Everything the stranger standing in front of her has said only made the situation more odd. Team dinner? Tradition? He clearly mixed up numbers and is at the wrong apartment.

“I’m sorry,” she starts, but is almost immediately cut off when another voice calls out from down the hallway.

“Jake!” 

The man turns towards the voice and a look of recognition passes over his face as his smile seemingly becomes brighter at the sight of whoever said his name. 

“Q!” He says brightly, before returning his attention to her. “I’m sorry, I must’ve mixed up the apartment numbers.”

“It’s no problem.” Reagan reassures him before he waves a goodbye and starts heading to the apartment next to hers. The curiosity gets the better of her and she glances over to see who “Q” was and that’s when everything comes to a halt.

Because Q, or cap as Jake also called him, is Quinn Hughes. Her ex-boyfriend. The love of her life. And now, apparently, her next door neighbor.

Quinn must have sensed another pair of eyes on him because he looks over and meets her gaze. A look of disbelief crosses over his face for a split second, his brows furrowed in confusion as he realizes who his teammate bothered in the mixup.

“Reagan?” 

It might have been two years since the last time she saw him, but hearing her name rolling off his tongue still had the same effect on her as it did then.

“Quinn?” She asks in response, unable to comprehend that he’s standing less than 100 feet away from her. Quinn. Her Quinn. 

“Yeah, it’s me. What are you doing here?”

“I, uh, just moved in a few days ago.” Reagan starts to explain and then a rush of worry hits her. “I finally got the job I’ve been waiting for and it just so happened to be here in Vancouver. I had no idea you lived in this building at all,”

“Hey, it’s okay.” Quinn says softly, cutting off her rambling. “Congratulations, I know how hard you worked to get through school and do everything you could to get this job.”

“Thank you.” Reagan murmurs, pushing her hair behind her ear and nervously dropping her gaze to the floor. All the heartbreak from the last few years has disappeared in the matter of seconds and it almost feels like she’s back there. In a time where they were still together and so in love with each other.

But Reagan knows that’s not her reality anymore. Now, she’s standing in her doorway looking at the man who she gave her heart to all those years ago, but now he’s almost a stranger. Just her neighbor in a new city.

“Uh, I know this is probably unexpected and way too sudden, but do you want to come over for dinner? There’s definitely enough food and everything.”

Reagan feels a wave of surprise wash over her at his offer and even though her heart is screaming to say yes, she knows she can’t accept. At least not right now.

“Thank you for offering, but I’m okay. Still trying to get adjusted and all. Another time?” She replies, trying to push away the want that’s arisen within her. She wants to spend time with him even if she hasn’t seen him in a while and her heart is still a little broken. Quinn nods in understanding, a strand of hair falling perfectly over his forehead, but Reagan sees the familiar look of sadness in his blue green eyes.

A loud yell erupts from inside Quinn’s apartment disrupting the quiet air around the two of them.

“I should probably get back. Almost the entire team is in there and I don’t trust a lot of them by themselves.” Quinn chuckles and Reagan feels a smile tug at her lips. “It was really great to see you. I hope Vancouver treats you well.”

“Thanks, Quinn. Same to you.” 

Quinn flashes you a sweet smile before ducking back inside. When the door to his apartment closes behind him, Reagan lets out a breath she didn’t even realize she was holding. Not only does she have to navigate life in a new city with a new job, but now she has to handle living next to her ex, the man who was her everything, on top of everything else.

The memories that came rushing back the moment she realized it was him standing in the hallway linger in her mind for a little longer. All the shared kisses, big hugs after good and bad games, nights on the porch at the lake house in the offseason, his unwavering support for everything she did, early mornings spent cuddling and so much more. 

Reagan knew when they broke up that she would miss him for the rest of her life, but it feels like the wound has been reopened seeing him unexpectedly in person. Of course, she’s kept tabs on him by tuning into a few Canucks games and for a while, Jack was sending her regular life updates but those slowly came to an end. 

Her heart aches knowing she is going to have to see him more often now that they’re neighbors. It’s a curveball she never saw coming or even considered when she chose to move to the city that he lives and plays in. But here she is. 

With a shake of her head, Reagan clears her mind and pushes open her front door again. There’s relief that the entire interaction is over, both with Quinn and his teammate, but in a strange way, she also misses talking to him already.

Nothing could prepare her for randomly seeing the man she still loved years after he broke her heart. 

A few days later, Reagan gets a strong sense of deja vu. She’s attempting to put together the coffee table for the third time, after the first two tries were unsuccessful, when there’s a knock at her door.

A heavy sigh slips past your lips as she drops the useless IKEA instructions to the floor. She’s already preparing a little speech in her head in anticipation it’s another one of Quinn’s teammates who got the apartment numbers mixed up again.

“Hey, sorry, Quinn is-“ Reagan starts as the door swings open and reveals the blue green eyed, curly haired hockey player who lives next door. “here?” She finishes, more like a question than a statement.

“Hey,” Quinn says, flashing that soft smile that makes her heart melt. “I, um,” he pauses, almost as if collecting his thoughts to get exactly what he wants to say correct. “I know how hard it is to move to a new place by yourself having done it myself so I wanted to help with anything you need. And I brought breakfast too. Hopefully your usual order hasn’t changed.”

Reagan’s heart swells with adoration, remembering this is the version of Quinn she fell in love with. The kind, thoughtful man who continuously surprised her in ways she never thought possible. And against all odds, here he is again.

She’s stunned into silence for a few seconds, overwhelmed by his offer. It’s genuine and shows he cares even after all this time but allowing him to help means spending time with him, reconnecting, and Reagan doesn’t know if she’s ready for that just yet.

But she also really wants that coffee table to be built. So for right now, the pros outweigh the cons.

“Thank you so much, Quinn. That’s really thoughtful of you and honestly, there are a few things I’ve realized I can’t accomplish by myself no matter how hard I try.”

Quinn’s smiling genuinely now. He can’t believe she’s letting him help despite the fact they haven’t seen each other in a while minus the mixup the other day. But he doesn’t care. This is his opportunity to catch up with her and he’s going to cherish every second.

“That’s why I’m here.” He chuckles in response, handing her the iced coffee and bagel he picked up for her. “Order still the same?” He asks again, more out of curiosity than anything.

“Order’s still the same. I’m more surprised you remembered it.”

Of course he remembers it. He remembers everything about Reagan despite the fact there was a time where he wished he could forget everything about her. He remembers the show she would only watch before bed and the scent of her favorite shampoo. He remembers the feel of her hand in his and the way he always felt so safe with her in his arms. He remembers her go-to lazy dinner and the songs she loved screaming at the top of her lungs in the car.

He remembers it all. But now, Reagan feels like a stranger for so many reasons.

Quinn takes this moment to really look at her. She’s still breathtakingly gorgeous. but he notices her wavy dark brown hair is lighter than he remembers it. Maybe she got highlights or has dyed it since the breakup. There are more freckles scattered across her cheeks than there were when they met. She’s wearing an old oversized Umich shirt that he realizes at the last second might be his. But when her brown eyes meet his, any anxiety he feels about this moment falls away.

This is still Reagan. His Reagan. Yes, it’s been a while but he knows her. She hasn’t changed that much. If she’s letting him help and being friendly, maybe she doesn’t hate him like he always thought she did after the way things ended between them.

“Of course I remember it.” Quinn says with a shrug, trying not to reveal how much he misses her. “So what do you need help with first?” He asks as Reagan waves him into her apartment and closes the door behind him.

Reagan explains her dilemma with the uncooperative coffee table which takes first priority before going through a small list of things she wanted to get done today like unpack her kitchen and finish building her vanity. Quinn nods along to everything she says, seemingly happy to offer his help even if he doesn’t] have to.

“Thank you,” Reagan says softly, the two words holding more meaning than she ever thought could be possible. Quinn gives her a slightly confused look as he sits down on the floor ready to tackle the coffee table. “For everything. You didn’t have to bring breakfast over and offer to help me get settled in considering we haven’t seen each other in a long time, but I really do appreciate it.” 

“I’d do anything for you, Rea.”

Hearing that one line and the use of the nickname only Quinn has ever used for her sends a shiver through her body. She feels her heart being tugged in his direction again even if it never fully healed from their end years ago, but she desperately tries to keep herself in check. Their relationship came to an end because of him. Quinn wanted to focus solely on hockey and his need to constantly get better on the ice was more important than keeping her in his life. 

So she moved on after he broke her heart. Or she thought she did until she saw him the other day. Her feelings have rushed back in no time, like nothing happened in the first place, but Reagan knows better.

“I know,” she murmurs, voice quiet as the wave of emotions hit her. “I’m going to start unpacking the kitchen. Let me know if you need any help. The instructions have been useless.” Quinn chuckles, that adorable sound filling her with a sense of happiness she hasn’t felt in so long. To this day his laugh is still one of her favorite sounds in the whole entire world.

For a good hour or so, the two of them work in comfortable silence. A random playlist Reagan selected is playing from a bluetooth speaker and every once in a while, she hears Quinn curse under his breath. She catches herself smiling a few times, the familiarity of it all bringing back so many memories. 

“Reagan?” Quinn tentatively disrupts the quiet as she’s reaching up to place a stack of plates in a cabinet above the kitchen counter. 

“Hm?” She hums in response, letting out a sign of relief when she gets the plates on the shelf. Quinn is grinning at the sight of her on her tiptoes trying to reach a higher shelf in her new home. This is something else that hasn’t changed since they were together. She still refuses to use any help to reach higher places despite being small enough that it would be beneficial. 

“Coffee table is finished.” He says, pointing over his shoulder when she turns around to look at him. “You weren’t lying about it being difficult, but it’s done.” A look of surprise crosses over her face and something about her right then makes Quinn’s heart ache. 

He knows he messed up when he broke it off with her years ago. His head was too stuck on hockey and only hockey. There was an unbearable amount of pressure on his shoulders after being drafted and he felt like he had to not only live up to the expectations, but defy them. And through all that, he lost the greatest thing to ever happen to him.

Reagan.

The woman who showed him unconditional love from the moment they met in college all the way through to the very end. Reagan who was there for every accomplishment and disappointment that happened in his career. The woman who always made sure he knew so many people, including her, were unbelievably proud of him at all times no matter what happened.

He never thought he would get to see her again and somehow here he is in her apartment that’s right next to his in the city that he’s been his second home for the last six years. 

“Told you I wasn’t lying.” She laughs, the sound filling Quinn with joy like it always has. “We can tackle the vanity next if you’re up for it. It’s a lot for just one person.” 

She leads him into her office where the unopened box is laying on the ground where she envisions the piece of furniture. Without a moment of hesitation, they get started on building the vanity as conversation flows freely. Quinn fills her in on everything going on with the Canucks from new teammates to how he likes being captain. She listens as he recommends some new restaurants and places to check out around the city and she fills him in on how everyone is doing back home in Michigan. Quinn asks about her new job and he can’t hide how proud he is when she tells him she got accepted into the Vancouver Symphony Orchestra. 

Reagan has been playing the french horn since fourth grade and that’s the entire reason they met in college since Quinn ran into her at a UMich football game when she was part of the marching band. He remembers being struck by how pretty she was then even in the slightly unflattering bright blue and yellow uniform she was wearing with her instrument in hand. Over time as they became friends and eventually got together, Quinn learned her biggest dream was to play in a symphony. It’s difficult to get a seat anywhere, but if anyone could do it, Quinn knew it would be her. Reagan was talented, always has been, and knowing all that hard work finally paid off makes him beyond happy. 

And secretly, he’s never been so glad that the music she loves so much brought her to the city he lives in now.

“I was nervous about being accepted. It’s one of the most prestigious symphonies on the West Coast, but I was sick of being in Michigan again even if I do love it there, so I took a chance and it worked out.” Reagan explains shyly, her eyes dropping to her fiddling fingers.

“Hey,” Quinn says, abandoning the half built vanity for a second to take hold of her hands. “I’m so proud of you. You deserve that seat and it’s incredibly brave of you to pack up and move halfway across the continent to live out your dream.”

They both are aware of the unspoken words there. That it was also brave to come back to the city where their love story crashed and burned.

“Thank you, Quinny. That means a lot.” The words are barely out of Reagan’s mouth before Quinn is wrapping his strong arms around her in a tight embrace. She melts into the hug, her head resting on his shoulder and lets the comfort wash over her. Quinn lets out a small sigh of relief. He missed having her in his arms and the feeling of peace that surrounds him is unmistakable.

God, he messed up so bad by letting her go, by ruining the best thing he’s ever had because he thought he couldn’t balance the pressure of being an NHL player and a relationship at the same time. 

“Good to know Huggy Bear’s still got it.” Reagan teases him, reluctantly pulling away even if she wants to stay in his arms forever. But she can’t. She’s not that girl for him anymore.

“Yeah, yeah.” Quinn laughs, used to hearing the nickname his teammates gave him years ago when he joined the team. He meets her gaze and it’s then that an idea hits him. Reagan can see the look of hesitation in his blue green eyes, but waits patiently for him to continue. “Whenever you get settled in here and everything, would you maybe want to go skating? I know we used to go all the time and there’s this cool rink downtown you would love, but no pressure if not. I’m sure you’re going to be busy with work and adjusting to a new city.”

Reagan knows she should say no. She knows it would be better to leave the past in the past. But something about the way Quinn asks with pure honesty tugs at her and the small hope that maybe their love could get a second chance after all this time blossoms.

So she says yes.

“I would love that. Just text me when you’re free and we can schedule something.”

Quinn’s happiness at her response is immediately noticeable even though he tries to hide it so it’s not as obvious. The smile Reagan adores so much is on full display and she couldn’t be happier to have him in her half furnished apartment just days after she moved back to the city where her heart was broken.

Before she can get too swept up in the emotions, she gently pushes Quinn’s chest and giggles.

“We’ve got a list of things to do, Hughes. Get back to work.”

And with that, both of them work together to get through all the tasks Reagan wanted accomplished. That familiar sense of peace envelops the apartment and for the first time in a long time, Reagan’s heart isn’t heavy with sadness. Instead, it swells with joy like no other.

Between Quinn’s busy schedule of games, practices and traveling and Reagan’s new work schedule of getting acquainted with the symphony and joining practices of her own, it took a few weeks for them to find a day to go skating together.

But in that time, a constant stream of texts were exchanged and phone calls were made whether Quinn was next door or on the road. Reagan learned all about what happened in Quinn’s life for the two years she wasn’t part of it and heard so many stories of his teammates and his brothers, who she also missed since she hadn’t spoken to either of them since the breakup.

Quinn got a glimpse into who Reagan is now and if possible, he feels himself falling even harder for her all over again. His feelings never truly went away but every time he heard her laugh or she shared a secret, he knew that even after all that time, this girl is still the one he wants.

Finally, the agreed upon Sunday arrives and Quinn’s quiet, but strong knock sounds through Reagan’s apartment as she pulls a beanie on her head. 

“Coming!” She yells, almost tripping on her way to the door. She’s nervous and excited all at once. When the door swings open, Reagan’s breath is stolen away for a second as Quinn stands in front of her looking extra cozy and comfy bundled up for the cold. His eyes are alight with wonder and his somewhat wild brown curls are peeking out from under his favorite navy blue beanie. He has a hoodie on under his winter jacket and there’s the faintest blush spreading across his cheeks.

“Hey, Rea,” Quinn greets her with a bright smile. The old nickname still sends a jolt of happiness through her veins even though he’s used it frequently over the last few weeks and she can’t help but feel hopeful. Maybe this is just the two of them going skating together, but there is a sense of something more in the air and if there’s even a chance Quinn wants to give their relationship another chance, Reagan is all in. She can tell he’s grown and matured in the time they’ve spent apart and if she didn’t see that, it would be much easier to ignore the feelings she has for him.

“Hey!” She replies, giving him a quick hug. Quinn is a little surprised, but welcomes the embrace for a moment before she pulls away and starts speaking in excitement. “Don’t worry about skates for me, I still use my favorite pair,” Reagan lifts her white pair of Bauer skates up and then glances at her warm, but cute winter outfit, “and I’m dressed for the weather since you said the rink is outside.”

“You’re all prepared,” Quinn chuckles, “Let’s go then.” He says almost sheepishly like he’s nervous all of the sudden, and reaches for her hand. Reagan intertwines her gloved fingers with his and offers him a reassuring smile to silently say “this is okay.” The rink is just a few blocks away from their shared apartment building so the walk over is cold, but brief and full of laughter and conversation between the two of them.

Reagan catches a glimpse of the rink when Quinn stops walking at the opening of a large clearing and her heart starts racing.

They are at Robson Square Ice Rink. The prettiest rink in all of Vancouver in Reagan’s opinion, but it’s also her favorite and was dubbed her and Quinn’s spot when they were dating. 

“Quinn,” Reagan breathes out in disbelief. She doesn’t need to say anything else, Quinn can read all the emotions on her face. He squeezes her hand in reassurance while flashing her a sweet smile before leading her to the benches to help put her skates on. 

“Come on,” He murmurs and Reagan swallows down the emotions in an effort to take in every detail of this moment. She immediately starts unlacing her skates when they claim a spot on the bench, but Quinn insists on doing it himself.

“I can do it myself, you know.”

“I know,” Quinn replies cheekily. “But you deserve to be taken care of so let me do it even if it’s just this one time.” Reagan sighs, in pure dramatics, which makes Quinn chuckle but her heart is warm and fuzzy. This is why she fell in love with him in the first place. He’s the most caring person she knows and would do anything for her. That much clearly hasn’t changed.

Reagan keeps her eyes on Quinn as he ties her skates perfectly until he taps the heel of her right skate to signal that she’s good to go and freezes. Her brows furrowed in confusion for a moment until it hits her.

Quinn got these skates for her years ago. They were her first pair and one of the best gifts she has ever received. But after taking them out for a few spins, she noticed that he had them customized. There was a little blue 43 printed onto the outside of the heel on her right skate which is exactly what Quinn is staring at right now.

“It’s still there.” He says quietly, tracing the two numbers before meeting Reagan’s eyes. It’s almost as if he expected her to cover the numbers up herself after the breakup and although she was angry about how everything happened, these skates are a reminder of the blissful beginning and she wanted that to remain untouched.

“Of course it is.” And just like earlier, this feels as if the simple moment holds a double meaning. As if that tiny 43 is a sign of hope for Quinn that he might get a second chance. That there’s still a spot for him in Reagan’s heart.

They share soft smiles and sit in the comfortable silence for a moment as Quinn puts his skates on. When Quinn takes her hand to help her onto the ice, Reagan lets herself be fully present. Months ago she never thought about reconnecting with the man who broke her heart, but now she couldn’t be happier that they’re friends again. She missed him beyond words.

It took a few laps around the rink to get her footing back, but once she did, she was challenging Quinn to races and constantly giggling as he tried to distract her from skating smoothly. Despite being one of the most well recognized people in the entire city of Vancouver, no one bothered Quinn on the public outdoor rink even if a few of the younger kids kept a watchful eye on him as if they recognized the captain of their favorite hockey team.

“How is it so far?” Quinn asks out of the blue as the two of them are skating at a leisurely pace. Reagan takes in the city skyline around them before meeting his gaze.

“Skating? Good! I always forget how fun it is and-”

“No,” he gently cuts you off and shakes his head, “I mean living in Vancouver. I know it’s been a huge adjustment for you.”

“Oh,” Reagan says in realization, taking a moment to think. “It’s been way better than I expected, honestly.” Quinn raises his eyebrows in surprise as an adorable smile blossoms across his face.

“Really?”

“Yeah and I have a sneaky feeling you already know you’re a big part of why that is, Quinny.” His cheeks become pink with blush and he looks down briefly before stopping the two of you for a second.

“Have you ever thought of giving us a second chance?” 

The question is like a punch to the gut. Not only because Reagan never saw it coming, but it is exactly what she’s thought of asking Quinn herself a thousand times.

Has she thought of giving them another chance? Yes. Every single day she wonders what it would be like to be his girlfriend again. To allow herself to feel the overwhelming love she has for the oldest Hughes brother. To feel at home again because he’s back in her life. And Reagan has come to realize that she wants a second chance with Quinn more than anything.

He’s proven that he has grown and matured from the man he was years ago when he shattered her heart into a million pieces. He’s shown that her life and her dreams are just as important and he’ll do anything he can to support her every single day. His love has been on display since the first moment she saw him in the hallway of their apartment building weeks ago.

“Yes. Every single day.” Reagan responds with nothing but pure honesty.

“Me too.” Quinn almost whispers, trying not to let his nerves show. He’s biting his lip, a nervous habit of his that hasn’t disappeared. “Uh, you can say no if you’re not ready or anything, but would you like to go out with me? On a proper first date? Again?” 

Instantly, a beaming smile is on Reagan’s face as his words process in her mind. It’s happening. Something she’s dreamed of for so long, it’s real.

“I’d love that, Quinn.” She hugs him tight, relishing in the joy rushing through her veins. Nothing could make this moment any better and when Quinn kisses her temple, also feeling the happiest he’s been in a long time, everything in the world feels right again.

[virturose]

Hello, nice to see another blog writing for Bleach! Welcome 🤗

I hope you don’t mind me making a small request. Headcanons for Byakuya, Kisuke, Jushiro and Ichigo (all with gn!reader) for when they take care of you after you return from a mission injured (nothing major)? Just some soft and fluffy, content. Thank you! And hope you have fun writing!

— @satsugacafe 💜

Tending to your wounds

Byakuya Kuchiki, Kisuke Urahara, Jushiro Ukitake, Ichigo Kurosaki x gn!reader

warnings: mentions of open wounds and blood, just fluff <3 author’s note: that is so sweet thank you sm 🥹 also my phone kept wanting to autocorrect jushiro to juanito

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

Byakuya Kuchiki

Despite his icy exterior, he is constantly worrying about you

When you return from your mission, you’d try your best to hide your injury from him but he’d see through you like you’re made of glass

He’d notice immediately the subtle winces and how you avoid touching your side

He would eventually corner you to confront you. A simple, “you’re injured,” and you’d have no choice but to reveal the small but painful cut you sustained on your side

He would insist on taking care of it himself, no need for any of the healers. “Sit.” There is no room for discussion in his voice so you oblige

His face would remain in its usual unreadable expression as he’d bandage your wound but his touch is noticeably soft, making sure to make it as painless as possible

Once you’re all bandaged up, his touch would linger on your waist for a few moments, as if he’s grounding himself by feeling your skin. Possibilities of how it could’ve gone much worse run through his mind

“Do not let this happen again.” It’s an order, yes, but under his reprimand is a plea to never put yourself in danger again for his own sake

He wouldn’t be able to bear losing his love again

⋯⋅๑┈•✦

Kisuke Urahara

He would excitedly greet you in your return, planting kisses on your face and casually noting the blood that seeped through your sleeve

Wait… blood??

Once he realized, he’d spring into action grabbing all the necessary items before you could even say a word

To anyone else, he’d look like he’s casually following routine, but he’ll be making note to use the best medicine he has saved just for you. He wouldn’t want you feeling another ounce of pain

He’d try to hide his panic with jokes. “I don't want to imagine what the other guy must look like.” He might even get a little touchy as he’s bandaging you up, the pervert he is

Unfortunately, he’s an open book to you. It’s all a facade to distract himself from the fact that you’re actually hurt

You’d stop him before he can make another bad joke, “Relax, Kisuke.”

He’d look at you bewildered for a moment before looking down, shaking his head, chuckling

Besides Yoruichi, you were the only other person who could read him so well and that still amazed him

The best medicine he did use because you felt better than ever after he patched you up

He’d pat your head. “Why, of course. You’re being treated by the best there is,” acting like he wasn’t about to throw up smh

⋯⋅๑┈•✦

Jushiro Ukitake

The entire time you’re gone, he’d drown himself in paperwork otherwise he would have carved a hole in the floor from his nervous pacing

Seeing you finally walk through the door would earn him the biggest sigh of relief

That is until he noticed you limping. Anyone else would have missed it

He’d waste no time in questioning you about it. You’d try to brush him off, of course, nagging him about him giving you an interrogation rather than a warm welcome

But he’d have none of it. You’d sigh in defeat and lift your pant leg, revealing a small laceration on your calf with a half-assed bandage

He would immediately start scolding you, telling you that you shouldn’t have taken an enemy on by yourself

Then start the questions. “How did this happen? Why didn’t you call for backup? How long ago?“

He’d snap out of it when you falter trying to take another step and he rushes to catch you before you fall

He’d follow up with an apology, holding you tight and reassuring you he’s just glad you’re back home safely

Helping you walk, he’d bring you to the healers and stay by your side the whole time, making sure they heal you until you’re good as new

And even then, he’d be watching you carefully. You’re still recovering from a hefty mission, after all

So that’s his excuse to spoil you for the next few days with your favorite treats, massages, and anything else you request

⋯⋅๑┈•✦

Ichigo Kurosaki

The second he’d lay eyes on you after you return from your mission, he’d be at your side, frantically scanning you over. “Are you hurt?” are the first words out of his mouth

He’d ask that about a thousand times

You’d try to reassure him that you’re fine but unlike Kisuke who would at least try to hide his freak out, Ichigo would simply freak tf out at the sight of blood on your arm

He’s unsure of what to do at first, the sight of you injured scrambles his brain

Eventually, you’d calm him down enough that he’d finally lock in and realize you need to be treated

He’d use the limited knowledge he’s gotten from his dad in the clinic and bandage you up to the best of his abilities, nervous about possibly hurting you further

After you’re set, he’d go silent, holding your hand, and you’d immediately know he’s blaming himself. “I should’ve been there to protect you.”

You’d pull him in and he’d hold you, gently as to not hurt you but firmly. If it was up to him, he’d never let you go again

You’d tell him you’re capable of taking care of yourself and he knows that, but he can’t help his protective instinct over you and would vow to never let harm come to you again

- - - - - -

tag: @satsugacafe

[hansmic]

ɱαყɓε เƭ’ร ƒαƭε…

leeknow x gn! reader

summary: Every time they run into each other, it’s a coincidence—at the same restaurant, in the same aisle at the grocery store, or even on the same plane. They joke that the universe is trying to tell them something, but neither is brave enough to make the first move—until one day, they do.

genre: fluff, romance

warnings: kissing!!

word count: 5.4k

———————————————————————

Leeknow couldn’t believe their luck when they ran into each other again. It was as though the universe was pushing them together, over and over again. But this time, Leeknow was determined to make his move. He approached you with a confident smile.

"Looks like fate has struck again," he said, his voice tinged with a hint of nerves. "But this time, I won't let you slip away."You couldn't help but giggle at his cheesy pickup line.

"Oh really?" you smirked, raising an eyebrow. "And how many minutes did it take you to convince yourself it was good?"

Leeknow chuckled, running a hand through his hair sheepishly. "Alright, I'll admit it took a few tries," he conceded. "But hey, it made you smile, didn't it?"

You couldn't deny the truth in that statement. Leeknow had always had that effect on you. But you couldn't help but tease him a bit more. "Yeah, it made me smile because it was so corny," you teased, a mischievous glint in your eye.

Leeknow put a hand against his chest in mock offense. "Corny? Ouch, that hurts. And here I thought I was being smooth."

You laughed again, enjoying his playful banter. "Smooth, huh? Well, you definitely have room for improvement," you teased, poking him gently in the arm.

Leeknow pretended to pout, but his eyes were sparkling with amusement. "Alright, alright, I get it. I need to work on my pickup game. But can you blame me? You make me nervous," he admitted, a shy smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

"Nervous, huh?" you repeated, unable to hide the hint of satisfaction in your voice. "I have that effect on you, do I?"

Leeknow rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly looking sheepish. "I guess you do," he confessed. "I mean, you're just...you're different, you know? Whenever I'm around you, my brain just turns to mush and I can hardly form a coherent sentence."

You felt a flutter in your chest at his words. Leeknow, the confident and charming guy who could make anyone swoon, was saying that you were the one leaving him speechless.

"Well, I suppose I should take that as a compliment," you joked, trying to hide the effect his words had on you. "Leaving you speechless is quite an accomplishment, you know."

Leeknow chuckled at your words, his eyes never leaving your face. "You're right, it is an accomplishment. But you know what would be an even bigger accomplishment?"

You raised an eyebrow, curious about what he was going to say next. "What's that?"

Leeknow took a step closer to you, his voice lowering as he spoke. "Getting you to say yes to a date with me."

A mix of surprise and excitement fluttered in your stomach. Was he actually asking you out? "A date, huh?" you said, your voice a little shaky. "And what makes you think I'll say yes?"

Leeknow smirked, his confidence starting to return. "Well, I figure I must have done something right if the universe keeps bringing us together like this," he said, gesturing between the two of you. "Besides, I have a feeling you've been secretly hoping I'd ask you out."

You rolled your eyes affectionately. "You're awfully sure of yourself, aren't you?"

Leeknow shrugged, a cocky grin on his face. "What can I say? Confidence is my middle name," he joked. "But come on, you can't deny that there's something between us. We keep running into each other like this—it's got to be more than just a coincidence."

You hesitated for a moment, considering his words. As much as you wanted to deny it, there was an undeniable truth to what he was saying. You'd felt it every time you ran into each other—a spark of attraction, a sense of connection that went beyond mere chance meeting.

You took a deep breath, butterflies fluttering in your stomach. "Okay," you said, your voice soft but steady. "I'll go on a date with you."

Leeknow's face lit up with a mixture of relief and happiness. He hadn't expected you to actually say yes, but now that you had, he felt like he was floating on air. "Great," he said, a wide grin spreading across his face. "Then it's a date. Can I pick you up tomorrow night at 7?"

You nodded, a small smile playing on your lips. "Tomorrow night at 7 sounds perfect," you said, feeling a rush of excitement mixed with nervousness. You were actually going on a date with Leeknow.

"Perfect," Leeknow echoed, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "I'll see you then. And just so you know, I plan on wowing you. You won't regret saying yes."

You laughed, feeling a mix of anticipation and disbelief. "Oh, I don't doubt it," you replied, teasing him a little. "You're going to have to pull out all the stops to impress me."

Leeknow's grin widened. "Challenge accepted," he said, his voice dripping with determination.

You couldn't help but admire his confidence. "I look forward to seeing what you come up with," you said, a flirtatious edge to your tone.."

Leeknow chuckled, his eyes raking over you in a way to makes your heart flutter. "Oh, you can count on it being something special," he promised, stepping closer to you. He raised a hand to brush a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch sending a shiver down your spine.

You swallowed hard, suddenly very aware of how close he was standing to you. His proximity was making it hard to think straight. "I trust you," you managed to say, your voice coming out softer than you intended.

Leeknow smiled at your words, his expression softening. "Good," he said, his hand lingering on your cheek for a moment before he reluctantly pulled away. "Until tomorrow then."

As he turned to leave, he couldn't help but flash you one more cocky grin over his shoulder. "Oh, and get ready to be wowed. I don't hold back."

You watched him walk away, a mixture of anticipation and nerves swirling in your stomach. You had a date with Leeknow tomorrow night, and you couldn't stop the excited flutter in your heart at the thought.

But as the reality of the situation sunk in, you began to feel a bit overwhelmed. What were you going to wear? Where was he taking you? And most importantly, how were you going to survive being alone with him for an entire evening without making a complete fool of yourself?

You took a deep breath, trying to calm your racing thoughts. You had plenty of time to figure all of that out, and besides, you had a feeling that Leeknow would be just as nervous as you were. The thought brought a small smile to your face.

It was finally the day of your date with Leeknow, and you were a bundle of nerves. You spent hours trying to decide what to wear, going through your entire closet before finally settling on an outfit that made you feel confident and nice.

Time ticked by slowly as you waited for Leeknow to pick you up, your heart pounding faster with every minute that passed.

Finally, at exactly 7 pm, you heard a knock at your door. You took one last look in the mirror, smoothing down your clothes and taking a deep breath before opening the door.

Leeknow was standing on the other side, looking as handsome as you remember. He was dressed in a nice pair of jeans and a button-down shirt, and he had a charming smile on his face.

"Hey," he said, his eyes taking in your appearance. "You look amazing"

You felt your cheeks warm at his compliment, unable to prevent a smile. "Thank you," you replied, stepping backward so he could come inside. "You don't look so bad yourself."

Leeknow chuckled, stepping into the house and closing the door behind him. "I try my best," he said, his eyes lingering on you for a moment too long.

There was a beat of silence as both of you seemed to realize how close you were standing to each other. You could feel the heat radiating off his body, and your heart began to race.

"So, ready to go?" he asked, breaking the silence. His voice sounded huskier than you'd ever heard it before.

You nodded, grateful for the opportunity to get some distance between you two before you did something stupid like launch yourself at him. "Yeah," you said, trying to sound casual. "Just let me grab my jacket."

Leeknow waited patiently as you slipped on your jacket, his eyes never leaving your face. When you were ready, he held open the door for you, gesturing for you to go first.

The cold night air hit your face as you stepped outside, and you shivered involuntarily. Leeknow noticed and stepped closer to you, his hand gently resting on your lower back to guide you towards his car.

You felt a shiver that had nothing to do with the weather run down your spine as his hand made contact with your back. You hoped he couldn't feel the effect he was having on you.

He led you to the passenger side of his car and opened the door for you, waiting until you were safely inside before closing it and circling around to the driver's side.

You buckled your seatbelt as Leeknow got into the car and started the engine. He reached over to turn on the radio, scrolling through the stations until he found one playing a song you both liked.

As he pulled away from the curb, you snuck a glance at him out of the corner of your eye. The way the streetlights illuminated his face made him look even more handsome than usual, and you felt a pang of butterflies in your stomach.

Leeknow caught you looking at him and shot you a sideways glance, a smirk playing on his lips. "Like what you see?" he teased.

You felt your cheeks burn with embarrassment, but you played it off as best you could. "Don't flatter yourself," you replied, trying to sound nonchalant. "I was just looking at how badly you need a haircut."

Leeknow pretended to look offended, his hand going up to touch his hair protectively. "What's wrong with my hair?"

You pretended to study his hair, pretending to consider your answer. "It's just so...messy," you said, gesturing to the locks that fell over his forehead. "It looks like you just rolled out of bed."

Leeknow huffed in mock indignation. "Hey, this messy look takes effort, you know. Every strand is carefully placed to ensure maximum charm."

You couldn't help but chuckle at his exaggerated protests.

"Right, I'm sure it takes hours to achieve this level of tousled perfection," you teased, reaching out to ruffle his hair playfully.

"Hey!" Leeknow protested, but he was laughing as your fingers messed up his carefully styled do. "Watch the hair! This is a work of art, you know."

You laughed at his reaction. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't realize I was dealing with such a delicate masterpiece."

You let your fingers linger just a bit longer than necessary in his hair before pulling away.

Leeknow pretended to pout, but you could see the amusement in his eyes. "You're lucky you're cute," he said, his tone mock-threatening.

You grinned, feeling your confidence grow at his compliment. "Oh, so you think I'm cute, do you?" you said, lifting an eyebrow playfully.

Leeknow's smirk returned, and he spared a glance in your direction. "I do," he said, his voice low and serious. "In fact, I think you're more than just cute.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words. There was a sincerity to his tone that sent a flutter of butterflies through your stomach.

You tried to hide your reaction, but Leeknow seemed to pick up on it, because his smirk widened. “Got you flustered, huh?”

You rolled your eyes, trying to play it cool. "Please, it takes more than a few compliments to get me flustered."

Leeknow chuckled, clearly not believing you. "Oh, really? And what does it take to get you flustered, then?”

You thought for a moment, trying to come up with a smart retort. But your brain was completely blank, and the only thing you could think about was the way he was looking at you.

Leeknow seemed to sense your predicament and chuckled again. "Speechless, huh?"

"Shut up," you muttered, looking away from him. You could feel your cheeks burning, and you knew that he could see your blush even in the dim light from the car's dashboard.

Leeknow chuckled again, clearly enjoying himself. "Hey, it's okay to admit it." He reached over and poked your cheek. "You're adorable when you blush."

You swatted his hand away, trying to maintain some dignity. "I am not blushing," you protested, even though you knew it was a weak argument.

Leeknow pulled the car into a parking spot and shut off the engine, turning to give you a smile. “We're here."

You looked out the window, taking in your surroundings. You could see a small strip of stores and restaurants lit up against the night sky, and the faint sound of music and laughter came from somewhere nearby.

"Where are we?" you asked, turning back to Leeknow.

Leeknow unfastened his seatbelt and leaned closer to you. "It's a surprise," he said, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "But trust me, you'll love it. Come on."

You couldn't help but feel a flicker of excitement at his words. You unbuckled your seatbelt and followed him out of the car.

The night air was cool and crisp, and you shivered slightly as a breeze blew past you. Leeknow noticed and draped his jacket over your shoulders.

"For the cold," he said, his hand lingering on your shoulder for a moment longer than necessary.

You pulled the jacket tighter around you, feeling a mix of gratitude and something else — something warmer and more fluttery.

Leeknow led the way down the sidewalk, walking beside you. Every so often, his hand would brush against yours, sending jolts of electricity through your body.

The restaurants and shops passed by in a blur, but you barely paid attention. All you could focus on was Leeknow’s presence beside you, and the way he kept sneaking glances at you when he thought you weren't looking.

Finally, Leeknow paused in front of a small, unassuming doorway. "We're here," he said, sounding a little nervous.

You looked at the door, puzzlement etched across your face. "Here... where? I don't see anything special."

Leeknow shot you a cocky grin. "That's because you're not looking closely enough."

He reached out and took your hand, lacing his fingers through yours. "Just trust me and follow me."

Your heart fluttered at the feel of his hand in yours, but you tried to play it cool. "I don't know," you said, pretending to be skeptical. "What if you're leading me into a dark alley to murder me?"

Leeknow snorted. "Please. If I wanted to murder you, I could've done it a million times before now."

He tugged on your hand. "Now come on. I promise, you'll like it."

You allowed him to lead you through the doorway, stepping into the dimly lit space beyond it. It took a few moments for your eyes to adjust to the darkness, but when they did, you gasped.

The room was small and intimate, with soft lighting and low-hanging pendant lamps that cast a warm glow over everything. There was music playing softly in the background, a quiet song you didn't recognize.

You looked around in amazement, taking in the cozy ambience of the place. You'd never been somewhere so romantic and intimate.

Leeknow still held your hand, and he led you to a small table in the corner. "What do you think?" he asked, watching your reaction avidly.

"It's beautiful," you breathed, still looking around in wonder. "How did you find this place?"

Leekown shrugged, sitting down in one of the chairs and gesturing for you to do the same. "I have my secrets," he said, his voice taking on a more serious tone.

He leaned towards you, resting his arms on the table. "I wanted to take you somewhere special. Somewhere that would make this night memorable.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words. The intensity in his eyes made your stomach do a little backflip.

You swallowed, trying to find your voice. "Well, mission accomplished," you said, your voice coming out a little breathier than you intended.

Leeknow smirked, clearly pleased with himself. "I'm glad you like it," he said, still studying you intently.

There was a brief moment of silence as he continued to stare at you, his gaze making your skin tingle. You fidgeted in your seat, feeling a little flustered under his scrutiny.

"Stop looking at me like that," you said, trying to sound annoyed.

Leeknow chuckled, his smoldering gaze not wavering. "Like what?" he asked, feigning innocence.

"Like you're trying to figure out what I'm thinking," you said, folding your arms across your chest.

Leeknow just kept grinning, his eyes roaming over your face. "Is it working?" he asked, tilting his head to the side.

You huffed, trying to sound disinterested. But the truth was that you were far from indifferent to his attention. The way he was looking at you made you feel like the most fascinating person in the world.

"No," you said, though your voice came out a little weaker than you would've liked. "Not at all."

Leeknow chuckled again, clearly enjoying himself. "You lie badly, you know."

He leaned even closer, invading you personal space. "You've been blushing nonstop since we walked in here."

You felt your cheeks grow hot again at his words. "I have not," you protested, but even you didn't believe yourself.

Leeknow raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. "Really? Because it looks like you're doing it right now."

You wanted to argue with him, to prove that he was mistaken. But the evidence was right there, in the heat radiating off your face.

You gritted your teeth, feeling frustrated with yourself. "Okay, so maybe I'm blushing a little. Happy now?"

Leeknow laughed, clearly enjoying your flustered state. "Oh, very happy," he said, the tone of his voice making it sound suggestive.

He reached out and touched your cheek, his fingers grazing your skin lightly. "You're just so damn cute when you blush."

You shivered involuntarily at his touch, feeling a sharp jolt of electricity shoot through your body.

By the time the waiter brought the check, you and Leeknow had been there for hours. You'd talked about everything and anything, laughing and joking as if you'd known each other for years.

As you watched him hand his credit card to the server, you couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment that the night was coming to an end.

Leeknow caught your expression and smirked. "Don't look so sad," he said, seeing right through you. "The night's not over yet."

You raised an eyebrow, curious about what he had in mind. "Oh really? What else have you got planned?"

Leeknow just winked, standing up and taking your hand. "You'll see."

He led you out of the restaurant and back into the cool night air.

The air was crisp with a hint of dampness, and a light breeze rustled through the trees that lined the sidewalk. The street was mostly deserted, the only sound the occasional passing car.

Leeknow didn't say much as he walked, his hand still holding yours. But every so often, he would glance down at you, a smile playing on his lips.

Eventually, he led you to a small park, secluded and dark. There was a small pond in the center, and the sound of frogs and crickets filled the air.

Leeknow let go of your hand and gestured to a bench. "Sit," he said, his voice brooking no argument.

You did as he said, too curious to protest. You sank down onto the cold metal bench, folding your hands in your lap. Leeknow sat down beside you, the distance between you both almost nonexistent.

There was a moment of silence as you both sat there, staring out at the still water of the pond. The only light came from a crescent moon partially hidden by clouds, casting soft shadows on everything.

Leeknow broke the silence, his voice a low murmur. "You know, this is my favorite spot," he said, angling his body towards you.

You turned to look at him, curious. "Why?" you asked, the word barely audible over the hum of crickets.

Leeknow paused for a moment, his eyes fixed on the pond. "I don't know," he said, his tone thoughtful. "There's just something about this place that soothes me, you know?"

You nodded, understanding what he meant. There was a sense of peace here, a tranquility that was almost palpable. It was as if the world outside this small park had ceased to exist altogether.

Leeknow let out a soft sigh, leaning back against the bench. "It's quiet here," he said, his eyes drifting shut. "And when it's quiet, I can think more clearly."

You watched him, taking in his serene expression and the way the moonlight cast shadows across his face. He looked almost otherworldly, as if he belonged in some sort of dream rather than reality.

"What do you think about when you come here?" you asked, your voice whisper-soft in the stillness of the night.

Leeknow opened his eyes, staring out at the pond but seeming lost in thought. "Everything, I guess," he said slowly. "Life, death, love, the universe. You name it, I've probably thought about it here."

You were a little surprised by his answer. You'd expected something simpler, more mundane. But Leeknow had always hinted at layers to his personality, glimpses of a deeper intellect beneath the smirk and the swagger.

"That's a pretty deep answer," you said, a note of admiration in your voice.

Leeknow's lips twitched in a small smile, but his gaze didn't leave the pond. "Most people think I'm shallow because I don't wear my thoughts on my sleeve," he said, a hint of resignation in his voice.

You couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for him. You'd suspected there was more to him than he let on, but hearing him confirm it out loud made you realize just how lonely being someone like him must be.

Leeknow finally looked away from the pond, his eyes finding yours. "Most people only see what they want to see," he said, his words tinged with bitterness. "And they don't want to see complexity. They just want simple and easy."

The pain in his voice was almost palpable, and you felt a sudden urge to reach out and comfort him. But before you could act on the impulse, he looked away again, his expression shutting down.

"Anyway," he said, his tone a little too light, "enough of that. I didn't bring you here to talk about my existential crises."

He shifted on the bench, turning to face you fully. The intense look in his eyes made your breath catch in your throat.

"I brought you here for this," he said, his voice dropping to a near-whisper.

He reached out and touched your face, his fingertips brushing against your skin gently.

You shivered under his touch, a thousand different feelings coursing through you at once.

Leeknow was staring at you with a look you'd never seen on him before. It was equal parts tenderness and intensity, and it made your heart skip a beat.

He leaned forward, closing the distance between you. "Is this okay?" he asked, his voice low and rough.

You could barely trust yourself to even speak, but you managed to nod, your heart hammering in your chest.

That was all the confirmation he needed. Leeknow's hand moved to cup the back of your neck, pulling you closer until your faces were mere inches apart. You could feel his breath, warm and tantalizing against your skin.

And then he kissed you.

It was a simple, chaste kiss, just the press of his lips against yours. But the effect was overwhelming. A jolt of electricity shot through you, and suddenly you were hyperaware of everything — the cool night air, the dampness on the grass, the rough bark of the bench digging into your back.

You kissed him back, a soft gasp escaping you as you melted against him. Your hands came up to rest on his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart through his shirt.

Leeknow deepened the kiss, his tongue tracing the seam of your lips. You parted them, letting him in, your mind going hazy with desire.

The kiss seemed to go on forever, each moment more passionate than the last. You lost all sense of time and space, your whole world narrowed down to the sensations of Leeknow's lips on yours and the heat of his body pressed against you.

When you finally broke apart, you were both breathing heavily. You clung to each other, neither quite willing to let go.

Leeknow let out a shaky laugh, his head falling to rest against your shoulder. "Damn," he breathed, his voice hoarse.

You couldn’t help but laugh as well, feeling lightheaded and giddy with elation. You traced nonsensical patterns on his back, relishing in the steady rise and fall of his chest as he tried to catch his breath.

Leeknow's hand came up to cup your cheek again, tilting your face towards his. His eyes were still intense, but there was something more in them now. Something almost like awe.

"I've wanted to do that for so long," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper.

The admission took you by surprise. You'd known he was attracted to you, but you hadn't realized just how much. Hearing him confess that he'dwanted to kiss you for a long time sent a flutter of butterflies through your stomach.

"Why didn't you do it before?" you asked, your voice surprisingly steady considering the turmoil of emotions you were experiencing.

Leeknow shrugged, his thumb tracing the curve of your cheek bone. "I wanted to," he said, his eyes locked with yours. "But I was afraid. I didn't know how you'd react."

The vulnerability in his voice made your heart ache. You'd never quite seen this side of him, the uncertainty beneath the bravado.

You reached up and covered his hand with yours, holding it against your face. "You don’t have to be afraid with me," you said softly.

Leeknow's expression softened, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "I know," he said, his free hand coming up to brush a strand of hair away from your face. "But old habits die hard, you know?"

You understood what he meant. It was easy to wear a mask, to hide behind a carefree demeanor. Exposing your true feelings always came with the risk of rejection.

You smiled back at him, your eyes full of understanding and a deep well of affection. "Just remember that I'm not going anywhere," you said, giving his hand a squeeze.

Leeknow's gaze lingered on you, searching for some sign of deception or insincerity. But you kept your expression open and honest, letting him see the truth of your words.

Finally, he took a deep breath, as if steeling himself for something. "You promise?" he asked, his voice strangely tentative.

Your heart ached at the vulnerability in his voice, but you kept your expression steady and sure. "I promise," you said, your voice firm and resolute.

As the kiss continued, the rest of the world faded away, leaving only the two of you, wrapped up in each other. The night air was cool, but your bodies were warm, the heat between you almost scalding.

Eventually, Leeknow pulled back, his breath hot against your ear. "We can't stay here all night," he whispered, his voice rough with desire.

A pang of disappointment went through you at the thought of leaving, but you knew he was right. The park was getting darker by the minute, and eventually someone was bound to notice the two of you in the shadows.

Reluctantly, you extracted yourself from Leeknow's embrace, standing up and smoothing down your clothes.

Leeknow watched you, a look of pure craving in his eyes as he got to his feet. "Come back to my place."

The suggestion was as much a command as a request, and the tone of his voice sent a shiver down your spine.

Your heart began to beat faster, and you felt a mixture of nerves and excitement. Spending more time with Leeknow was exactly what you wanted, but something about the situation felt different. More serious, more significant.

You looked at him, trying to read the expression in his eyes. They were still burning, the flame of desire still evident in them. But beneath that there was something else — a hint of uncertainty, a trace of trepidation, as if he was afraid you might say no.

You took a moment to consider his suggestion, a thousand different thoughts running through your head. But in the end, there was only one answer you could give. One answer you knew was right.

You met Leeknow's gaze, the intensity in his eyes sending a thrill through you.

"Let's go," you said, your voice little more than a murmur.

Leeknow visibly relaxed, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Good answer," he said, his voice still gravelly with want.

He reached out and took your hand, lacing his fingers through yours and pulling you out of the park and towards his car.

The ride back to his place was a blur, your mind still reeling from the events of the night. You stole glances at him as he drove, watching the way his hands gripped the steering wheel, the way his profile looked illuminated by the passing streetlights.

When you reached his apartment, Leeknow led you inside quickly, his hand still holding yours tightly. The door had barely closed before he was pressing you up against it, his lips on yours once more.

The kiss was urgent, desperate, as if he was trying to devour you. Your body responded instinctively, the pent-up tension of the night finally releasing in a burst of raw desire.

Leeknow's hands were everywhere, roaming over your body as if he couldn't get enough of you. His touch was a mixture of tenderness and need, and you found yourself responding in kind, your hands clinging to him as you lost yourself in the sensations.

You were barely aware of moving, of him leading you towards the bedroom. The only thing that existed was the feel of his body against yours, the taste of his lips on yours.

When you finally fell onto the bed, a tangle of limbs and discarded clothing, there were no more words. The silence was filled with the sounds of your breath and your gasps, as you continued to lose yourselves in each other.

Hours later, you lay in the darkness, curled up against Leeknow's side. His breathing was slow and even, and the heat of his body was like a comforting weight against you.

You closed your eyes, your body still thrumming with the aftershocks of pleasure. Sleep tugged at the edges of your consciousness, but you fought it, wanting to stay awake just a little longer and savor the moment.

Leeknow's arm draped across your waist, holding you close. His eyes were closed, but you could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath your head.

In that moment, all the uncertainties and reservations you'd had earlier were gone. There was only Leeknow, and the peace that came with being wrapped up in his embrace.

As you finally drifted off to sleep, you knew without a doubt that you didn't regret coming back to his place. You never wanted to leave. You wanted to stay in this moment forever, with him by your side and your bodies pressed together.

But for now, sleep claimed you, and your dreams were filled with scenes of passion and longing. And in the morning, you would wake up in the same position, your bodies intertwined and your hearts beating in sync.

As you opened your eyes and took in the sight of Leeknow still asleep next to you, a deep sense of contentment settled in your chest. Leeknow's eyes fluttered open, meeting your gaze, and a small, tender smile appeared on his lips. And you knew that whatever the future held, you would face it together.

————————————————————————

a/n: sorry it was so fast pace! but I hope you enjoyed it :)

masterlist is here

[erinwantstowrite]

you reposted a video of trump saying “you want me to go swimming”

and i just want to take a moment to recognize how actually insane that is.

like that’s how our president responds to tragedy? with no empathy?

the presidents role is to be the face and voice of america and her people, and for every loss of life, for every tragedy, and for all the pain her people must go through, the president must feel it. that is a heavy burden, but it is one our president must carry. our president represents us. there should be a level of class, of respect, and dignity in a president, that our current president does not fulfill

he is a sorry excuse for a leader, a role model, a human being, he is above all, a pathetic man who should not have the privilege of speaking for america and her people.

and even if you agree with his harmful policy’s, how dare you let our voice be so callous about lost lives? about children? it is disgusting. a president should have a level of poise when they speak, strong encouraging words instead of unintelligible insults

and the tiniest bit of hope i had, the smallest shred that this wasn’t all bad, has been ruined and tarnished, because excuse me for thinking that perhaps our leader would respond with even the smallest bit of empathy instead of placing blame everywhere else

he makes me sick.

THIS!!! EXACTLY!!!

(i promise this anecdote below is relevant to this bear with me)

when i was in high school, i was part of a very very good band program. there were a lot of talented people and we managed to take up a huge chunk of the school population. it was guaranteed to have at least two band kids in a class, and this was a AAA school. this is important because our reputation as band kids... was that we were always going to be the best students you had. not because of grades, but because of character. the same went for the many programs that we went to. if we were at a district competition, we were quiet when we had to be, we cheered for other bands, we would lend our equipment, etc etc. i can't think of any instances not only in my time there but before or after where people would groan when they thought about us coming to their event. because there were no incidences that made people think twice about inviting us

how we got that kind of reputation? my band directors built an environment in the band where we wanted to do great. "character, commitment, competence, capacity" were the 4 C's that were put on the wall. this is the best example that I could find, where I think communication and commitment are the same:

every student took up a leadership role even if you weren't handed a title like "drum major" or "section leader". we learned about how to represent ourselves and the people in our community, and we were proud of that. like yeah we might have sounded like a bunch of fucking nerds, but it was a good place to be.

often we heard adults wondering how the hell our band directors managed such a feat. it was such a large band that there should have been at least one group of teenagers that acted out or something. but that was incredibly (and i mean incredibly) rare, and were never so bad that it couldn't be immediately fixed.

it was possible because we had good role models!!

our band directors worked with every teacher on campus, brought us to community events, they had food drives and toy drives, etc etc. they were funny but they knew when to get work done, they created a space where we felt comfortable with them and wanted to make them proud.

i don't see anything like that when i see Trump, nor do i see it in people that voted for him. his Character is not just rude but nasty. his attitude towards the people he's supposed to be representing and caring about was absolutely intolerable. when asked if he cared about the lives of these people (WHO BY THE WAY, DIED MINUTES AWAY FROM WHERE HE IS RESIDING), he was a snarky fucking brat. he was childish and replied with THAT? "You want me to go swimming?"

I'M SORRY??

that was the most WILD, out of line shit i have heard him say in a minute. that was blatant disrespect on the lives of the people that were lost, their families that have to live with the grief for the rest of their lives, and to the American people that were hoping something would be said to comfort and ease our minds.

his statement was read off of a paper that someone else 100000% wrote for him. and then he went out of his way to say that DEI is responsible for it?????? THE DEI??????

you know why he said that shit? because it was his fault! he is directly responsible for air traffic control not having enough people that night. he fired 100 FAA senior officials, there was the hiring freeze that HE demanded, the Aviation Safety committee was disbanded, demanded for existing employees to leave, offered the buy it out. and then that plane went down- the worse air collision in the US in 16 years.

he can't take responsibility. he won't do that, because he would have to admit that it was his fault. that's a pretty trick that narcissists love to do. they come up with excuse after excuse for why something couldn't be their fault, it always has to lie with someone else. and he chose to blame... diversity?

the thing that really gets me about this DEI shit is that most of these people will argue that we need to get rid of it because people should be hired for their merit and not because of the color of their skin or gender. THAT'S WHY THE DEI EXISTS. because if it DIDN'T, only white men would be hired- for the color of their skin, because of their gender, and NOT because of their merit. diversity in our workplaces is how we end up being able to see different perspectives. the US is a melting pot of cultures and that's supposed to be a beautiful thing. the fact that we are still having arguments about it is because there are still people in power who do not want us being unified as a nation. they directly benefit from us believing that "the black man/ the latino man/ the white man" are the enemy. the enemy isn't the person who looks or acts different to you, the enemy are the people who are supposed to be representing us that are only acting out of their best interests.

Trump will never admit that he was wrong about something. It's not in his character. He is not a giving, caring man, who wants the best for the people. He is a lying, cheating, scum of the earth that sits on a "throne" built on the backs of people that do the work for him and who he has divided using hate and envy, then he props his feet up on a footstool made of his ugly pride, and he sticks his big fat thumb in his mouth, taking up all the room for that silver spoon.

He has no commitment to us as the people (even the ones that voted for him) nor to the people also in power that are loyal to him. I believe that in no time at all, he's going to get greedy and they're going to eat him alive, because Trump isn't even smart enough for any of this, there's someone else pulling the strings. He is an incompetent man child with no accountability for his actions, he has failed nearly every business that he touched and only has his money because of what his family had built before him. And he has no capacity for greatness nor does he have critical thinking skills. He props his words up with fluffy decorations and lies right through his teeth, and the people that voted for him are lapping it up like dogs starved. People are about to find out real fucking quick that Trump has been playing it easy and using the benefits of other people's work before him to make himself look good.

And they're not even going to get their eggs.

[chocochiffonnn]

Cookies & Promises

➸ Pairing: Idol BF! Nishimura Riki x Reader

➸ Word Count: 1.5k words

➸ Synopsis: Baking and a clingy boyfriend who rarely got to see you— combining the two creates a chaos, and you wouldn't have it any other way.

➸ Warnings: tooth rotting fluff, some curse words, riki is sososososo clingy here, riki and niki used interchangeably. enjoy reading guys!

➸ Songs to play as you listen!

Junny - Promise

Johnny Stimson - Casual

New West - Lovely

Taylor Swift - Say Don't Go

Enhypen - XO

●・○・●・○・●●・○・●・○・●●・○・●・○・●●・○・●・○・●

Nishimura Riki always found a way to touch you.

It hardly mattered when the occasion was odd, or the crowd was rowdy and bustling. Subtly, Niki just somehow always found a way to come to contact with your skin.

Perhaps it is because his love language revolves around it Though he hates the idea of over the top physical affection in public, he truly does revel and thrive in the subject once the two of you are alone.

Like this very moment right now.

A particular Saturday night, after the two of you had gone for early dinner, you decided make some cookies as a dessert. Riki had gone over to your house, as he'd often do when he wasn't out doing idol business, practicing, or training.

Which is, in all honesty— is rare.

Thus, the reason for him lazing around your house all day and sharing nothing but movies, games, food, and laughter the last couple of hours. This particular night, however, was the first time you got to see each other again after a week of him being away.

And following this event, you supposed you wouldn't see him again for as long as a month or so as they are to be in tour.

It explains the reason why as you prepped the ingredients needed for the cookies and scurried around the kitchen, Niki had you in a back hug the entire time.

It didn't help the fact that his head was on your shoulder, too. Peppering soft and gentle kisses around your nape, neck, collarbone, and cheeks, occasionally.

"Riki, baby, can you let go for a bit? It's hard baking these cookies." You reason, as you set a carton of milk atop the table. Niki only hums, pulling you closer to his chest.

"Why?" He mumbles, low and gentle against your ear.

"What do you mean, why? You're like a clingy little koala! I might not get anything done at this rate!" Truth be told, you did love it when Niki was needy like this, acting like such a baby when in front of the cameras, he was but a "tough boy".

"I can help you with that..." Niki suggests, swaying the two of you side to side. You giggled, "Yes, you will! If only you let go of me and—"

All of a sudden, Niki turns you around and envelops you with his arms once more. It comfortably tightened around your neck, and you came to catch a whiff of his perfume you can recognize miles away.

"Baby, why do you want me to let go so bad? Do you not miss me?"

Niki says, as if you were dismissing him. His tone was rather teasing, "W-what? Of course I do!"

"Then it's okay if I cling to you while you bake?"

With a slight groan, you reluctantly agreed to his antics and turn around. Baking cookies had always been a simple task, which is bound to get tedious now as a Nishimura Riki now clings to you like a little koala bear.

Your ingredients were all complete and arranged, you grabbed a bowl to put the dry ingredients first, and a separate ones for the wet ingredients. All the while, Niki would do just about anything and everything to get you to pay attention to him.

Poking your cheek repeatedly, "Hey! Shh. Stop that." You turn to look at him, to which he only grins.

Then, taking one of the ingredients, "Where's the egg?"

Niki taps you in the shoulder, turns around, and with full confidence— he just... Acts like he's pooping, as mysteriously, and egg comes out of his hands. "Look, I lay eggs now."

He must think he must be so funny because right after, he started stomping his feet, snickering, and laughing so hard over his own joke.

You took the egg from him with a laugh in sake of entertaining him, and cracking the egg into the bowl.

Then, he'd make silly faces as you kneaded the dough.

"Imagine if the dough had a face, this is what it would be making right now."

Niki goes in front of you over the kitchen table, making silly little faces every time your hands came to contact with the cookie dough. He'd obnoxiously widen his eyes, puff his nose and ears, stick his tongue out.

One of his goofy faces made you cringe and laugh loudly, to which Niki smiled, "Heck yeah!"

Then, once you put the cookie dough in the oven, he'd stand in front of it and randomly start breakdancing in the middle of nowhere, pulling out his moves which would normally attract you. Now, it just made you shit in laughter.

"What are you doing?" You say, crossing your arms as Niki b-boyed. "I'm dancing for you, obviously!" He pants, doing flips and stumbling right after.

Thud.

"Oh my gosh! Are you okay?" You quickly come over to him, kneeling in front of his fallen figure, inspecting his leg which had fallen down. Niki didn't speak for a few seconds until, all of a sudden, he tackled you down the ground.

In a very tight, and heavy bear hug.

Hell, this boy put all his strength and weight upon you, encaging you with his legs, and keeping you impossibly close. You could hardly breath!

"Riki! Let me go!" You squirm under his hold, Riki only snorts, "I tricked you there baby! Ha! Take this!"

Riki suddenly started tickling you, and you felt like a worm under his hold. You were thrashing uncontrollably, laughing so immensely as he tickled, and tickled, and tickled.

'S-stop! Nooo!" You manage to mutter in between laughter, and he soon stops, opting to embrace you in the cold, hard apartment floor. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" He says, rolling your bodies around like sausages.

Gosh. At times, it hardly felt like you were taking care of a boyfriend, but rather, it felt like you had a child! Nishimura Riki is ridiculously mischievous and childish that sometimes, it felt like you're going to go insane!

The oven timer ticks, and Niki finally lets you out of his grasp. You take the cookies out of the oven, let them to cool as you grabbed some of the ice cream from the freezer.

Niki merely observes as you prepared him a bowl of cookies and vanilla ice cream, smiling when you hand him the bowl. You grabbed your own, and the two of you head back to the couch to laze around for the rest of the night and enjoy the rest of the night with him by your side.

"You baked these cookies so good, damn." Niki says as the two of you faced each other at the couch, eating away the ice cream and cookies combination. You smile and mumble a small thank you, opting to not tease him for annoying you so much as the cookies did taste good.

Once the two of you were finished, you settled your bowls at the coffee table and heaved a sigh, "I won't be seeing you tomorrow anymore, yeah?" you randomly brought up out of the blue, a wave of reality washing over you.

It didn't really matter where Niki had gone to, even if it's a country away, miles away, even just a neighborhood away. At the end of the day, you always missed your annoying little boyfriend terribly.

Niki sensed your sudden change of mood, pulling you closer and placing you atop his lap. He wraps both of your arms around his neck as you lazily hunched over and embraced him.

Niki pats your back in comfort, "I'm still seeing you in the morning, baby, don't worry." He assures, though, you can sense by the tone of his voice that he too, is disappointed.

"I'll miss you."

"I'l miss you too, baby."

You pull back from his embrace, holding his face within your hands. You lovingly caressed it, memorizing every detail and tracing it as if it was his last day on earth. Maybe it is to be, for a month or so, at least.

Niki only hums into your touch, closing his eyes and warming into your feather fingers further. His long fingers roamed around your back, caressing it, too.

"It won't take long, I promise..." He mumbles, opening his eyes and holding one of your hands. You only nodded.

You knew Niki found enjoyment in what he was doing. Performing in front of big crowds, making his name known along with his hyungs— it's all really a matter of accepting the fact that your very clingy boyfriend just had to be away for so long.

But then again, Niki always keeps his promise. Even if it is to be a year away, a decade away, even a millennia, you knew that Nishimura Riki always holds true to what he says.

And you know that by the end of each day, he'll always come back home to you, over shared ice-creams and cookies, over shared laughters and assurance.

And most of all, over a shared lifetime with his one and only girlfriend.

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ END *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

[curiouspupsicle]

Good Omens Fan Fiction Friday (1/31/25) - Resistance!!

Being a well informed American living under an administration determined to dismantle our democracy (already stressed) and cause as much damage as possible has even my comfort moments turning to resistance. After all, evil people have always existed. And good people have always resisted. So is there anything my Good Omens fixation has to say about resistance? Given Terry Pratchett's moral universe, we could argue that all of Good Omens is steeped in resistance. But I'm going to limit myself to a few specific favorite fics that highlight different forms of resistance.

Let's start with the series that got me thinking in this direction: Demon and Angel Professors (G) by Ghostinthehouse (@ineffableghost). This is 200 ficlets, each exactly 666 words, hanging on a silly premise. Everyone loves literature Professor Fell who goes on regular tangents about his sweet husband Anthony. Everyone fears grumpy botany Professor Crowley who treats his students like he treats his plants. And anytime Crowley goes near Fell, the first-year students go into protective mode. Because surely Crowley must be up to no good and a potential harm to dear Prof Fell and his precious Anthony. But beyond that bit of fun repeated every year with a new group of incoming students are amazing stories of resistance against those who would cause mental harm or physical violence to disabled people, folks with a variety of gender identities and presentations, queer individuals, people dealing with trauma--basically anyone who might be vulnerable in a thoughtless and even wicked society.

Sometimes resistance is persuading someone to do better. Other times it's offering a hint that makes someone think. It may involve a hands-on approach to someone who only knows violence. Or it may be getting someone to a safe place as quickly as possible.

I read it over a weekend. But I think there's a better approach to reading this long series--bookmark it in your phone when you are doing a hurry-up-and-wait activity (jury duty, medical treatments, picking up kids at school, etc.). The short length of each fic makes it easy to pick up and put down. The variety of "ducklings" tales (what the ineffable pair call the students they help) will keep you interested. And the sense of joy and hope will make it a good way to spend time on a challenging day. Resistance fics aren't all human AUs. Check out The Last Angel (E) by @bellisima-writes. For millennia, Crowley has been Hell's Grand Inquisitor. He never served on earth. After Hell won their war against Heaven, they finally track down the last remaining Angel, Aziraphale. Crowley's given the job of torturing him for information. I don't want to give too much away. But Crowley's form of resistance involves being true to himself no matter what Hell demands. And Aziraphale has a more direct form of resistance planned. It's an exciting read as well as thought-provoking.

@snae-b writes the kind of fics you don't want to start reading before bed--at least not if you plan on getting up early the next day. Echo (E) is no exception. Each day, barista Aziraphale wakes up and goes into work. He serves a chauffeur, Crowley, who seems strangely familiar. Asking questions like "what makes one human" and "how do you fight against an evil activity that no one knows about," Echo is also just a plain old compelling story. And a resistance tale that, despite its futuristic setting, would not feel out of place beside a tale of the French underground resisting Nazis.

Mutual Aid (T) by malicegeres predates the Good Omens tv show. So presumably that makes it part of the Book!Omens universe. In it, radical bookseller Ezra Fell ends up hiding anarchist Crowley from the police after he's injured by skinheads. As the title indicates, they find a common cause and start working together. Loved the depiction of Adam as a leader. And the fic includes a listing of leftist political resources at the end.

Many consider The False and the Fair (E) by @princip1914 to be one of the best human AUs in the Good Omens universe. I certainly do. Aziraphale Wright's family runs a coal mine. Anthony Crowley, his former best friend, is the son of a mine worker. I don't want to spoil the story if you haven't read it. But what appears to be a story of regrets and making amends has a strong thread of accountability that results in wrongs being made right after a powerful act of resistance (with some help from the press). If you haven't read it, check it out. And if you have, read it again--with an eye towards resistance.

Finally, I'll end with a WIP, Good Works (E) by @majnoonathelibrarian. Set in 1987, Aziraphale is an assistant parliamentary secretary in the Thatcher government who finds something strange in the documents he's handling. Crowley is a mysterious "fixer" for a consulting firm who finds himself drawn into queer activism. Both of them have to navigate their day jobs along with increasing activism in a couple of different streams. The characterization is fascinating and the writer strings out the mysteries through the tale. This WIP is regularly updated and nearly complete. Remember, the fan fic community is a COMMUNITY. So don't forget to encourage writers of works underway by leaving kudos and comments. Writers are a gift to fans and we need to show them our appreciation. Finally, I'll give my pitch as someone who has been around much longer than most of you reading this. The yucky things happening in the world can be overwhelming. But it's a backlash. Because we've already made so much progress (both The False and the Fair and Good Works are good reminders of just how deadly the 1980s were for queer people). So resist. By making art and telling stories. By protesting. By contacting the people in power making decisions you disagree with. By caring for the vulnerable. By speaking out at local political meetings. By amplifying the voices of marginalized people. By using any of your unearned benefits to advocate for others. And by just existing as the beautiful and unique individual you are.

[steddieas-shegoes]

if you fall, i will catch you

for @steddielovemonth day 2 using Time After Time by Cyndi Lauper

rated t | 855 words | no cw | tags: high school, prom, slow dance, flirting, open ending but assumed getting together

🪩🕺💃🪩🕺💃🪩🕺💃🪩💃🕺🪩

Prom is stupid.

Steve didn’t even want to come. He didn’t have a date and nothing is more embarrassing than showing up to prom alone. Even the nerds come as a group, dancing and laughing together.

His mom made an appointment for his suit fitting and he couldn’t really explain to her that there was no need. She still thinks he and Nancy are on track to be married when Nancy graduates high school. He doesn’t know how to tell her that he’ll probably die alone.

Okay, that’s a little dramatic. He’s probably not gonna die alone.

But he may die unhappy, and that’s worse.

Most of the music hasn’t been terrible so far, at least. Only one slow song played and no one seemed interested in dancing to it.

Steve’s a fucking wallflower at his own prom. He never saw this coming.

He figures he could probably escape within the next few songs, no one would even notice his absence. He makes a mental plan to wait until one of the parent chaperones walks back to the other side of the room.

Then he’s off.

He manages to escape to the hall behind the gym, the one that leads to the auditorium and drama class, not the main building of the school. No one should be back here. It’s the perfect escape route.

“Never thought I’d see the day when King Steve is trying to escape prom,” a voice says from the end of the hall. The music from the gym is echoing in here, but the voice is much louder. It’s familiar, too. “Miss Wheeler too busy with Byers to dance?”

It’s Munson. Steve sighs.

“Why are you even here?”

“It’s my senior prom, too! Or should those of us not graduating not be allowed?” Eddie walks closer and Steve sees that he’s actually dressed up. It’s not a designer suit like he’s been forced into, but it’s nice. Eddie looks…nice.

“Wait,” Steve registers what he actually said. “Not graduating?”

“Yep. Apparently quadratic formulas are crucial to my development and I cannot enter society until I understand them.” Eddie kicks his foot across the tile, leaving a scuff mark from shoes that have probably been waxed beyond necessity. “And I guess dissecting a frog and turning in homework may have helped.”

“But aren’t you pretty smart?” Steve thought he was one of those dungeon dweebs like Dustin. Dustin’s the smartest person he knows, without a doubt, kid or not. He thought all the nerds who play that game were like that.

“Sure, I’m smart enough,” Eddie scoffs. “But I don’t play by their rules. I forget to do homework. I argue.”

“But if you know the stuff, they can’t fail you.”

“Ah, but they can. I don’t have the Harrington name to convince them to change a D to a C. It’s all good. Everyone expected it.”

Steve’s brows furrow, forehead creasing as he thinks about how many things people expected of him that won’t happen.

“Just because people expect it doesn’t mean you have to give it to them,” he says.

Eddie’s eyes widen and he seems shocked by Steve’s words. But the shock wears off quickly. Steve wonders if he imagined it.

“Right you are! Very wise words from the king,” Eddie bows dramatically.

Steve laughs.

Eddie glances up, tense until he realizes Steve’s not laughing at him, just at the entertainment. He stands straight and holds out his hand.

“I do believe such wise words should be repaid with a dance,” Eddie puts on a fake British accent, nose pointed to the sky, smirk playing on his lips.

Steve thinks this must be what it’s like to be charmed by someone.

“A dance?” Steve asks. “Here? With me?”

“It would be my honor,” Eddie loses the accent and turns his head back down so he’s looking right at Steve’s eyes. “Miss Lauper wrote this song just for us, after all.”

Steve’s confusion grows until he hears the song coming from the gym. He can only imagine how awkward it must be in the gym while some couples slow dance with chaperones watching their every breath. He reaches out and takes Eddie’s hand.

“The honor is mine, sir Munson,” Steve tries for an accent like Eddie had previously, but it falls flat.

Eddie pulls him close, but hesitates before he puts an arm around his waist. Steve feels breathless all of a sudden, like they’ve rocketed into space and he forgot one of those astronaut suits. He nods, giving permission for Eddie to take the lead.

When Eddie pulls him closer, they’re almost flush against each other.

Steve’s heart is racing.

“I didn’t know you were weird,” Eddie admits quietly. It sounds a lot like admiration. He’s swaying them back and forth gently, and Steve finds it’s easy to lose track of everything but the way Eddie’s hands rest on his body. “It’s nice to see you, Steve.”

It’s a lot more than what it sounds like.

As Cyndi Lauper plays, Steve wonders if this is how his prom was always meant to be spent: in Eddie Munson’s arms, falling.

[lu-is-not-ok]

Hi! I was wondering what your thoughts were on the relationship between Hong Lu and Xichun. Namely (if I'm interpreting this correctly), how much he seems to care for her well-being. This has been nagging me since Canto 7 but he was so insistent on her being careful or joining up with him. Like you can tell how bothered he was. And HL, while often repeating some form of "my family sucks" doesn't usually let it linger? He makes a joke and moves on. I haven't heard anyone talking about it but this is the first time HL has shown care towards any of his family, even if later he is all "yeah if she dies, she dies, oh well". You're not fooling anyone, you.

You're right on the money with that one! When Hong Lu calls Xichun his 'most amicable sibling', I believe he's very much being truthful about that. Because while yes, she's rude and tends to do everything in her power to push him away, there are small moments that show that their care for each other is in fact mutual.

After all, she herself even points out that if it was any other sibling he ran into, he would have already been taken out. But Xichun doesn't do that. She doesn't kill him, or try to capture him, even though she's clearly aware that their Family is actively looking for him.

In a way, she's similar to Hong Lu in that she's never entirely straightforward with how she feels about things. She often puts on some sort of facade to hide the true meaning of her words, just in her case it's a mask of hostility, likely to defend herself in her position.

There's two moments in particular I feel that exemplify this by alluding to how Xichun actually feels towards Hong Lu, beneath her anxieties and prey animal rage.

The first one is this.

I've already gone at length about this scene from Hong Lu's perspective, how the thought of being an embarrassment to someone else in his Family causes him to shut down and default to trying to nod along and speed through the conversation as fast as possible. However, I think Xichun's response here is likewise notable.

Because she almost immediately backs up. It feels almost as if she's lamenting that he's still dealing with such situations as badly as he did back at home, and after giving one more 'jab' (one that you could even read as a backhanded form of assurance that she is in fact safe for him to be around), she takes the hint and ends the conversation.

The second one is the exchange that leads to them parting ways.

This is perhaps the most obvious Xichun has ever been about her own worries for Hong Lu. She's very visibly showing concern and outright anxiety over the thought that Hong Lu isn't taking things seriously and putting himself in danger. And then I believe she realized why that is.

If you've seen any of my analyses and theories, you know that I'm a firm believer that Hong Lu lied about the reason why he left the Jia household, and that in reality he's a runaway. This moment here is I believe the moment Xichun realizes that he ran away as well, and as such his goal is completely different from hers. As Hong Lu himself later states, "The path diverges, and we must each take the other trail."

After that exchange she continues to show concern for him, if somewhat indirectly.

I don't think she's saying this just to give advice on what Donqui/Sancho might be feeling at the moment. I believe she's implying that she's recognising that Hong Lu himself might be or at some point have been in a similar situation, and is thus attempting to empathize with him. Hong Lu's response here feels like he's taken the hint and is confirming it, clearly speaking from a much more personal place and experience.

And then, of course, is the moment they split up.

Another one of Xichun's backhanded assurances. She might sound rude here, but the essence of what she's saying is clear here. She will come back for him and maybe even support him.

So, yeah! Hong Lu not only cares about Xichun, but has every reason to! She's clearly one of the few Family members he has that actually seems to care about him in return! Even if it is buried underneath her harsh demeanor.

And regarding the one scene you bring up, well, I might as well repeat my own full interpretation of it now that we've gained more insight into Hong Lu after the check-up intervallo.

Note how Hong Lu directly interrupts Gregor here. I believe Hong Lu here is reacting very emotionally, effectively snapping at Gregor for what he implied. Part of it I believe is the implication that the death of a loved one would hold any substantial meaning to Hong Lu, something he is extremely philosophically opposed to due to viewing all kinds of death as meaningless.

But the other part of it is, well, that the thought of someone he loved dying in front of his eyes brings up memories he doesn't want to acknowledge. So he snaps back with as straightforward an answer as he can come up with so as to not give himself the time to dwell on the idea. Because it sure is suspicious he has yet to mention the one other person in his household that is ought to be very amicable towards him, no?

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

+

Call it by its name: A coup.

February 1, 2025

Robert B. Hubbell

On Friday, January 31, 2025, Trump moved to complete the coup he began on January 6, 2021. Trump failed the first time, and he will fail again—because he has underestimated the American people. We must steel ourselves because things will get worse before they get better--but they will get better. It is a fool’s bet to assume that the American people will sit idly by as their freedoms are stolen by a corrupt oligarch and a convicted felon destroying the government to promote their selfish interests.

Speaking the truth about what is happening is difficult and unpleasant. Hearing the truth is also difficult and unpleasant. But the longer we fail to recognize the current situation for what it is—a slow-rolling coup attempt—the longer it will take for us to recover.

I know this is a challenging time and that many readers are outraged, fearful, and dispirited. Join me in community on Saturday morning at 9am Pacific / 12 Noon Eastern on the Substack App for a livestream discussion. There is no link; just open the app at the scheduled time, and you will receive a notification that I am going live on Substack. I will send an email reminder 15 minutes in advance.

I am speaking more directly and using stronger words to describe the situation than many of the mainstream media outlets. CBS, CNN, and NYT are reporting on bits and pieces of Trump's actions as if they are mere political stories. But those outlets are not addressing the obvious coordinated nature of the unprecedented attacks on the DOJ, FBI, Office of Personnel Management, Treasury Department, and dozens of other agencies.

Taken together, those actions amount to a hostile takeover of the US government by those who are loyal to Trump rather than to the US Constitution. The only word that accurately describes that situation is “coup.” Any other description is a sign of fear, submission, or surrender.

Usually, coups occur between political adversaries competing for control of the government. Here, the coup is an effort by Trump to overthrow the Constitution and establish himself as the unbounded dictator of the United States. The only word that accurately describes that situation is “coup.” Any other description is a sign of fear, submission, or surrender.

Fortunately, many independent political commentators are raising the alarm in ways the legacy media is not. BlueSky has become an indispensable source of resistance and information. Facebook is also emerging as a source of statements and leaks by government insiders.

To the extent you can, amplify those voices and add your own to the swelling chorus of alarm and indignation that will eventually stop Trump's unfolding coup. We stopped Trump's initial attempt to “freeze” grants and loans, and we can do it again.

Here is a partial list of what is happening:

Elon Musk and a team of DOGE infiltrators have taken over the Office of Personnel Management (OPM) by connecting non-government computer servers to the US personnel mainframe computers. They have reportedly seized private information about millions of federal employees. They have locked the senior managers of the OPM out of their agency’s computers. They have moved “sofa beds” into the OPM offices and put the offices into a “lockdown mode.” See Reuters, Exclusive: Musk aides lock government workers out of computer systems at US agency, sources say.

The hostile takeover of OMP allowed Musk to send an unauthorized memo inviting millions of federal employees to resign in exchange for eight months of “non working paid employment.” [Two unions representing federal workers have filed a lawsuit challenging Trump's plan to reclassify and terminate hundreds of thousands of federal workers.]

Elon Musk and a team of DOGE infiltrators have attempted to seize control of the US Treasury payments system—the gateway through which ALL funds from the federal government flow. When a senior manager at the Treasury asked why Musk needed access to the highly sensitive system, the manager was immediately placed on leave. He chose to quit, instead. See The New Republic, Top Official to Quit as Musk Tries to Get Hands on Key Payment System

As of Friday evening, the Acting US Attorney for Washington, D.C., fired about 30 US Attorneys who prosecuted January 6 insurrectionists. See Politico, DOJ fires dozens of prosecutors who handled Jan. 6 cases. Think about that for a moment: The convicted felons who attacked the Capitol have been pardoned and the loyal servants of the Constitution who prosecuted them have been fired. That fact should outrage every American.

Also on Friday evening, the FBI told eight of its most senior leaders to resign or be fired on Monday. Those senior officials head divisions of the DOJ responsible for cybersecurity, national security, and criminal investigations. Senior FBI leaders ordered to retire, resign or be fired by Monday | CNN Politics

The FBI has fired dozens of agents who worked on investigations of January 6 insurrectionists and has asked for a list of every agent across the US who worked on the largest criminal investigation in the history of the FBI. That list will include hundreds—possibly thousands of FBI agents. The implication of the memo ordering the compilation of the list is that those agents may be fired. See Reuters, Trump's DOJ launches purge of Jan. 6 prosecutors, FBI agents.

Also on Friday, the FBI told the senior agents in charge of field offices in Miami, Philadelphia, Washington, New Orleans, Las Vegas, and Los Angeles to resign or be fired on Monday. Reuters.

Readers alerted me to postings on Facebook and elsewhere (that I cannot authenticate) claiming to be from current government employees describing an atmosphere of chaos and fear as DOGE infiltrators ominously demand lists of employees who are apparently “next” to be fired.

Dozens of government websites were taken offline on Friday, ostensibly to be scrubbed for references to diversity, gender, or human attributes that are not white, male, and Christian. The effort was brutish, clumsy, and ignorant. The Census Bureau website was offline as DOGE infiltrators attempted to remove references to the fact that America includes people who are not white male Christians. Websites relating to LGBTQ equality, women’s health, transgender issues, and scientific knowledge in general were taken down.

The Pentagon has advised NBC, NYT, NPR, and other mainstream media outlets that they would be “rotated out of the building (i.e., the Pentagon)” to make room for NYPost, Brietbart, and OANN. See @DefenseBaron.bsky.social.

And as all of the above is happening, Republicans in the Senate will vote to confirm a Director of National Intelligence with suspiciously warm views toward Putin and an FBI Director who published an “enemies list” that included dozens of politicians, journalists, military officers, and career government officials.

Oh, and the Republican Party is facilitating the rolling coup. No, that’s not quite right. They are cheering it on.

As with the freeze on grants and loans, it will take a few days for the American public to understand the implications of what is happening. It is up to us to help spread the word.

What can we do? Here’s what we can do: Trump's rolling coup is (mistakenly) predicated on his belief that the American people are sheep. He believes that we will sit still while he does whatever he wants.

He is wrong.

America is based on the consent of the governed, and its economic health requires the cooperation of the participants in the economy. If Americans withhold their political consent and economic cooperation, both the political and financial systems in America will grind to a halt.

What does withholding consent and cooperation look like? That is difficult to predict given the fluid situation, but the citizens of other nations that have grappled with similar challenges have used sustained and massive street protests, national work strikes, work slowdowns, taxpayer strikes, business boycotts, and transportation boycotts. To be clear, I am simply making an observation about how aspiring dictators in other countries have been brought to heel and held to account.

Soon, very soon, Americans will be called upon to leave the comfort of their homes and the anonymity of their computer screens to engage in massive, coordinated action to remind Trump and Musk that they are servants of the people, not vice-versa.

Coda: Trump announced 25% tariffs on goods from Mexico and Canada. As one Canadian official noted on Friday, the Canadian auto industry—which is a major parts supplier to the US auto industry—cannot survive for a week with 25% tariffs. The Canadian supply chain will shut down, the American car industry will be severely damaged, and tens of thousands of US autoworkers will be laid off. We aren’t talking about inflation increasing or the cost of eggs. We are talking about tens of thousands of job losses and an economic shock likely to lead to a recession.

The point is that Trump's anti-democratic blitz is occurring in an environment in which he is making the stupidest economic moves made by any president since Herbert Hoover. That background will provide fertile soil for massive action by Americans who are fed up with Trump and Musk acting like dictators.

I believe in the strength and resiliency of the American people. It may take longer than some of us would like, but they will awaken, like the sleeping giant that German spies warned Hitler about on the eve of WWII.

I understand those who are frustrated and angry over the seeming flat-footed response of Democratic leadership. But complaining is not a strategy. Issue spotting is not a strategy. Assigning blame is not a strategy. Taking action is a strategy. Spreading the truth is a strategy. Making the daily phone calls recommended by Jessica Craven is a strategy.

So, to the extent you can, direct all your anxious energy and anger toward action. The first time you learn of a protest march near you, show up. And the next time. And the time after that. In many nations, small protest marches gain momentum in a matter of weeks.

I will talk to you tomorrow. Join me at 9 am PST / 12 noon EST on Substack

[Robert B. Hubbell Newsletter]

[carisisrolledupsleeves]

“Could he make you feel as good as i do?” prompt for Sonny? Thank you! 🩷

Disclaimer: I wrote it as a sequel to my previous prompt because I was still inspired by it. also, its smutty

The sun is high in the sky when you wake up. It must be around noon already but considering the night you’ve had, it’s not surprising. You try to blink the sleep out of your eyes, and looking down at your left hand you feel a surge of guilt in your stomach. Even though you know you’ve made the right decision, he never deserved this. He never deserved the hurt you caused him last night. On what should have been one of the happiest days of his life. 

As Sonny tightens his arms around you in his sleep, the negative feelings are replaced by the overwhelming flutter of the clichéd butterflies; something you had always rolled your eyes at; thought of as overrated. And yet. When you left the party after that horrific but necessary conversation with your now ex-fiancé, when you ended up running as fast as your heels would allow it, when you knocked on Sonny’s door with dread, afraid that he would tell you to fuck off and reject him like you had him earlier. However in that moment he opened the door, surprised yet as if he had expected you - that was when the butterflies became real. 

You snuggle into him; his warm body feels so unfamiliar still, yet like a home that is welcoming you. His scent, so heavenly, you want to wrap yourself up in it, and you surely try as you press your face into his chest while your legs wrap around his under the blanket. Sonny sighs, holding you even closer and placing a kiss onto your forehead. There’s so much to say, so much to talk about but neither of you have been able to put it into words just yet. Even last night all you managed to say was a tearful ‘I’m sorry’ followed by his many ‘It’s okay’, followed by even more tears and kisses before you ended up in his bed, fully clothed. 

These clothes are in the way now. Your hand wanders underneath his shirt, and you can feel him shiver in response to your touch. This is the first time you’ve been this close and sober; that drunken night spent together an exciting yet blurry memory of lust and urgency. Now the need to make him yours isn’t any less desperate but you aren’t in a rush, both of you knowing that this is right; that this is you two together from now on. 

Your lips meet; a soft kiss that soon turns more intense as you press your body closer to his and it doesn’t take long before his hands find the zipper of your dress while you manage to shove his shirt over his head. You’re finally skin on skin. It’s kind of crazy how quickly you feel yourself getting wet, especially since you can feel his body having a similar reaction; and you both smile into the kiss, a slight blush on your faces. 

‘I love you.’ Sonny whispers, the first words spoken since last night, and the fact that it’s those three words makes you dizzy. 

‘I love you.’ you don’t hesitate for one second because the truth is, you’ve always loved him. 

You continue to undress each other and it feels like everything is happening in slow-motion. Yet all of a sudden he flips you onto your back and covers you with his body, making you giggle with anticipation. Sonny’s body feels so good, and you know you’re going to have trouble prying yourself away from him in the future. You want him so much. You know you’re going to want him all the time. How you’ve ever denied yourself of him, you do not know. 

His lips leave yours and kiss all over your face before wandering down your neck, lingering there as you moan at the contact. Instinctively, your arms wrap around him; hands all over his strong back tracing the muscles there, finger’s digging into his skin as you feel his mouth continue. He is for sure leaving a mark on your collarbone as he sucks on the delicate skin there. That’s right, let them see. Let them see I’m yours. All yours. You sigh his name at the thought, sigh his name again as his mouth finds your breast, sigh his name over and over as he scoots down your body, his lips stopping at the waistband of your panties. 

‘Dominick…’ your eyes are closed but you can feel him smile against your skin and he looks up at you as you open them. 

‘Can I?’ he asks and you have to control yourself in order to not nod too enthusiastically. His smile grows even bigger.

He pulls your panties off slowly before flinging them across the room, making you laugh. 

‘You’re beautiful.’ he says, pushing your legs apart gently, exposing your wetness, and turning your laughter into a shy giggle. 

All of that shyness is forgotten as his long, tender fingers brush over your folds, making you shudder. His lips are back on your skin, kissing the inside of your trembling thighs, inching closer to your core until you feel the flick of his tongue on your clit, sending an electric current throughout your entire body. 

‘More?’ Sonny asks sheepishly as his fingers continue to stroke you. 

‘More. Yes. Please.’ you reply, biting your lips.

And he gives you so much more. Oh, much much more. Soon, you’re a panting mess, your hands in his hair, tugging desperately while he eats you out. Dominick’s expert mouth is all over your pussy; sucking, licking, teasing as though he has been waiting his entire life for it. Come to think of it, it turns out you have, too. No man has ever gotten you this close to an orgasm in such a short amount of time. Your eyes meet as he fucks you with his tongue, delving into you, his thumb on your swollen nub. He knows you’re close. 

‘Please.’ you beg again. ‘Please, Dominick.’

He withdraws his mouth, letting his fingers continue by slipping into you, curling over your g spot, almost sending you over the edge. 

‘Do you want me to stop?’ he asks and you shake your head before nodding instead. 

‘I want to be yours. All yours. And I want you to be mine. All mine.’ you answer, pulling softly on his hair. He understands. 

And within a heartbeat he sits up, his hands are on your waist, and he pulls you up toward him; you can only whine in response to his hesitation before he buries himself into you with a slow but firm thrust. Fuck. You arch your back at the sensation of him filling you up, stretching your already sensitive sex to a point of blinding pleasure. 

‘Oh my god!’ you cry out, giving yourself over to him completely.

‘Could he make you feel as good as I do?’ Sonny breathes, pulling back just to push into you again, deliberately hitting that spot inside you.

You shudder, hands grabbing at the sheets and at him. Truth be told no one has ever made you feel as good. As loved. As exposed. As vulnerable. As powerful. As sexy. 

‘No. And every time I was with him, I thought about you. I thought about our night together. And I’d cum, thinking about you.’ you admit, your voice shaking. 

He pulls you up so you’re in his lap, and kisses you deeply. His tongue slips into your mouth and you can still taste yourself on him, and your hands are all over him while he holds you, your hips pushing down harder against his thrusts. 

‘Cum for me now.’ Sonny purrs in your ear, his cock twitching inside you. He’s close too.

You can’t hold back even if you wanted to. Sinking into his arms your orgasm washes over you, and it’s earth-shattering. Nothing on your mind except him. Dominick.

And it turns out there will be a ring on your finger again in no time. This time forever.   

prompt requests