#many people to apologize to if I fall in love with this show in the year of our lord 2021

[yoredoesmore]

Hello! I saw you opening request again, can I have a request for soshiro and fem reader where they spend time each other for holiday?

Maybe they're having a cafe date in this cold season or maybe ice skating or spend time alone together?

Memories of Snow | Hoshina Soshiro

pairing: Hoshina Soshiro x Fem!Reader

genre: /romance/fluff overload

summary: You take your boyfriend out on a cute date to help him relax during the holidays.

wc: 1,7k

a/n: I'm falling to my knees, rubbing my hands together and apologizing for taking this long for your request. please accept my apology anon please please please 😣

Enjoy :>

It was that time of the year again. Tokyo sat covered in a crystal white blanket and the freezing temperatures urged everyone to take out their coats and fuzzy winter scarfs. Christmas lights illuminated the streets and the smell of baked goods and hot chocolate lingered in the air.

It was a beautiful time to be, and your favorite.

Your mitten covered hands tried their best to work the phone in your hands. The cold air threatened to dry out your skin the second it came in contact with it, which is why you refused to take them out of the warm fabric. You knew better now.

It was already five past seven and Soshiro had yet to respond to all your messages.

“Im ag the Christmas makest where eate hiu”

Soshiro has long adjusted to your typos, therefore you did not bother to correct your mistakes (not that it was possible with these things on anyway).

Worried that something might have happened to the man, you tried to dial his number but upon the first sound ringing up, you felt a hand wrap around your wrist.

“Someone's impatient.” Soshiro placed a gentle hand on your cheeks before leaning in for a kiss. His lips moved gently over yours, capturing your heart in a swift motion.

“Yes, because you're usually on time.” You rolled your eyes in a playful manner as you pulled away from him and smiled, immediately forgiving his actions.

“So, what does my Snow Angel have planned for us?” His hands wrapped around your fuzzy mittens. One thing you have noticed was that Soshiro loved matching your nickname to whatever season or event was currently taking place. It was a cute habit of his, one that you have gotten deeply attached to.

The both of you began to walk down the christmas market, taking in the beautiful scenery around you and the sweet smell of roasted almonds. You have been looking forward to this day ever since he got the green light to take this day off. Attending the christmas market was like a tradition, one the both of you have grown quite fond of.

“Sooo, it occurred to me that we never went ice skating together and lucky us, the market renovated their ice skating rink! I got us two tickets for that and afterwards we can grab something to eat and look around a bit more.”

While you were talking, Soshiro couldn't help but lose himself in your presence. your eyes shone with such anticipation and joy, it caused his heart to melt the cold around him away.

He was always so on edge at work, as the vice president it was his duty to take care of everything around him and protect his division after all. It was a constant pressure that rested on his shoulders. But with you around him, that weight was lifted and he was able to enjoy the moment.

When it came to dates specifically, it was usually you who took care of everything. The reservations, the schedule, the dress code– you loved taking care of it all. Of course it was always nice to see Soshiro handle those things when he found the time but most of the time, all he had to do was show up and take care of the financial aspects.

Upon arriving at the skating rink, you noticed how many people were already enjoying the sports. Couples, families and friends danced around on the ice, having an enjoyable time. You have been looking forward to this for ages now and you couldn't wait to try this out with your boyfriend. But as you turned around to look at his face, he had a..less excited expression on.

“What's wrong, Soshiro?” you asked, pulling your tickets out of your bag.

“Don't tell me that you have never done this before.” Your words were meant to be taken as a joke, you didn't even look at him as you spoke that sentence but when Soshiro didn't laugh or make any other signs that he hadn't taken your words to heart, you paused in your actions.

“No way..”

“It's not that big of a deal, I mean how hard can this be.” The man crossed his arms over his chest, the usual sassy expression hanging on his lips. He was avoiding eye contact as well, what a cutie.

You wanted to tease Soshiro for this. Poke at his ego a little and drop a few jokes but you decided against your worse judgment. Your boyfriend was amazing at many things, so many that it was painful to compare your achievements. Thus, having him admit that he was unable to do such simple thing as holding himself up on the ice did feel like a win for you.

This was going to be interesting.

*

He was exceptional.

Soshiro moved on the ice as if he was born to do so. Your boyfriend made it seem effortless, keeping his posture while elegantly moving through the crowd. It was a sight to behold, watching the man who almost stumbled over himself upon entering the icy rink now holding himself up like it was nothing.

Meanwhile you stood in the corner, admiring his skills.

You had told him that you needed a break but in reality you simply wished to admire the man.

It should not have been that much of a surprise to you, after all you were well aware of his abilities as noted before. The master of blades and swift movements was bound to find his calling on the ice. And not to mention– he looked unbelievably handsome.

Once the lap was finished, Soshiro returned to your side. His chest heaved up and down in order to regain his stamina and his rapid breaths visualized in the cold evening wind as misty clouds.

“This is funnier than expected.” Soshiro smiled, placing his hands on his hips.

“You sure are enjoying yourself, Soshiro.”

“Sure am. My girlfriend is excellent at picking fun activities after all.”

A knock of wind suddenly hit your face as you found yourself being dragged back into the center of the ring. “Let's try it together!”

Soshiro didn't even wait for your answer as he urged your stiff body closer to his. But you did not complain nor refuse, as you were all too used to Soshiro's sudden antics and therefore simply followed behind him.

You haven't laughed like this since breakfast this morning. Soshiro held your hands while moving along to the music. Your feet followed him, matching his pace and rhythm. The people around you almost became nonexistent in your eyes– it was simply the two of you who existed in the moment.

He held your hands as you tried a trick and pulled you back up after failing miserably. But you just laughed it off, not paying the failure any attention.

But before you knew it an hour passed and it was time to clear the ice. Soshiro and you went for one last round before the magical time was over.

“What a bummer. I could have gone for another hour.”

Hearing him say this earned a smile out of you. The smile on your face sat brightly as you wrapped your hand around his and pulled him along.

“The day's not over, so let's find something else to do!” Soshiro welcomed your enthusiasm by giving your hands a soft squeeze.

You ended up walking around the market for another hour, relishing in the festive spirit, enjoying the moment and stopping by almost every food stand. And just when you believed that the night could not go any better it started snowing.

Tiny crystals of ice landed on your skin and melted on impact. This was no weather to return home to, Soshiro said and guided you towards the nearby river.

Less people now walked the street but those who were outside enjoyed the view of the water along with the snow.

“Remember last year, when we went to the christmas market and it started snowing just like this? A little earlier than now but it was so beautiful.”

“And so cold as well. Yer fingers almost froze off.” The both of you laughed at the memory, the image of you desperately trying to heat up your fingers by rubbing them against each other so clear in your mind.

You were about to continue the story, when all of a sudden you found your arms being lifted up to your chest. One by one, Soshiro removed your mittens, until your fingers stood exposed in the cold winter air.

“Instead of buying yourself gloves Y/n, ya asked me to hold yer hand instead, but im pretty sure that mine were just as cold as yours."

Soshiro chuckled. "And I wasn't allowed to wear my gloves anymore either, ya said somethin bout 'let's suffer together'. Froze my one hand off that day but the other one did feel kinda warm."

And just like that, Soshiro took your hand in his and smiled. It wasn't a grin or one of his sheepish smiles but one that instantly warmed your hands and heart.

“So..would it be selfish of me to ask you to do the same for me now?”

Your words temporarily got stuck in your throat as you found yourself unable to answer him. Soshiro was so smooth with his words, catching you off guard in the moments you least expected it. But most importantly, he was sweet and caring and meant everything he said.

“You're already holding them, silly.” You somehow managed to reply, slightly flustered by his tender smile.

“And I already feel so much better.” He replied, pocketing our mittens with a sheepish smile.

The snow continued to fall over the world as the two of you walked down the river, hand in hand, while enjoying the beautiful scenery and old memories.

[greenerteacups]

Hi GT,

Forgive me if this is a stupid question, but I absolutely love the recs you've given (you've introduced me to tomione, and I love it!) and I was wondering if it's possible to give you some recs in return? There are some books and fics that definitely have dramione / got vibes, and I was wondering if I could share them with you!

So glad you've enjoyed them! Feel free to rec me anything you want. I've read most of the classic recs in terms of fic and adjacent content (Cruel Prince et al), but I'll try anything that's well-written. My tastes run towards weird and/or audaciously creative stuff, and I can forgive a lot of weaknesses in plot on the grounds of (1) ambition or (2) character work. My turnoffs are instalove, protagonists who can't fail, and most Y/A (I'm not a hater, I swear, I just need characters who can say "fuck" when their leg gets chopped off.)

I'm also a fan of weird and fucked-up dynamics.(Wuthering Heights was my favorite book for a while, and as a teenager I wrote an AU in which the book ends on a long sex scene where Heathcliff fucks Cathy's ghost and then immediately gets murdered by Catherine 2.) Obviously, I am very normal.

[kodamaghost00]

30 L lawliet Headcanons

———————————————————

[Disclaimer!!]

This post will contain: NSFW,Sfw, Fluff, Smut It's also Genderless for the girls,gays and theys!

You’re a task force member in this scenario.

———————————————————

He wouldn’t call you any nicknames, so that the other task force members won’t notices you two liking each other.

But the few times you two are alone together he calls you “Dear” or “Love”. He sticks with the romantic names.

He shares all his sweets with you, but you have to ask him nicely.

He enjoys gentle affection way more than rough love. Gentle hugs or forehead kisses are always welcome.

He doesn’t fall in love easily. In fact I would put him into the Aromatic spectrum. Only for the fact that he’s too focused on being the greatest detective of all time.

It took him some time as well to notice he loves you. Around 2-3 years to be exact.

He had some people seeking his love, but he never responded to any of them.

He’s probably the smartest man alive so sometimes you feel dumb next to him. (Sometimes he reassures you that you’re doing great)

His love language is Acts Of Service. He appreciates it the most when you buy him cake. He loves it even more when you backe one yourself!

He rarely cries. Like at all. You saw him cry like 1-2 times since you got to know him years ago.

He’s very paranoid of Kira killing you. Most of the time he tries to exclude you from the investigation.

Once you made him strawberry shortcake and he loved it! Loved it so much he wanted to show you how grateful he was…

He loves to give and receive neck kisses. He’d leave hickeys on you too but only where people can’t see them.

After all he wants to enjoy you alone. He’s very gentle so he rarely bites you. Not even when you ask him.

“I just don’t want to hurt you, that’s all. You’re so stubborn…”

He has great reflexes and is super flexible as well. He’s willing to try everything for your sake.

He also has a lot stamina. So you have to be prepared for nights that will last long. He cums throughout a lot.

He canonically can tie a cherry stem with his tongue only. Do whatever you want with this information.

He whimpers. But groans when he’s close.

He’s always awkward when it comes to aftercare. He doesn’t know what you want/need so he just decides to ask “What do you want to do now…?”

His cluelessness makes you chuckle most times but he does whatever you ask from him.

He’s not a fan of “sour” fruits like kiwi,pineapple or cranberry. He enjoys the sweeter stuff like banana,strawberry and cherry!

He’s the type of person that’s go non-verbal and let you ramble about your special interests. Not interfering once. Just absorbing all the information you provide.

If you guys fight he will apologize. Even if he knows he is right. He doesn’t like fighting with his loved ones.

He likes to buy you gifts at many times… he likes seeing your surprised smile!

He likes to hear your breathing while you sleep in one bed. It’s a nice ambiance.

He hates nuts. Walnuts, peanuts or even almonds. Everything nut related is a no go.

Every time you do something to make him laugh like embarrassing yourself for his sake, he laughs out of pity for you…

His full genuine laugh is so contagious… it’s really rare, so rare that no one besides you and Watari heard it before.

He takes his time with marriage or any commitment. He wants to make sure that you’re REALLY ready to marry a man like him.

———————————————————

MASTERLIST

Hey guys! I’m really sorry that these took so long… and I’m also sorry if some Headcanons should come up twice, I’ve written this over a month now and just now finished it… don’t be too harsh on me!!!

- Your Ghost ༼ つ ╹ ╹ ༽つ

[saucingitup]

Kraken broadcaster JT Brown shares why Pride is so important to him and why he’ll be celebrating the LGBTQ+ community all month long

June is an exciting month. There’s Stanley Cup final hockey on the TV, the sun is shining down on Seattle, I hit the links on Father’s Day, and it's Pride month—a month dedicated to celebrating the LGBTQ+ community and commemorating the 1969 Stonewall Uprising in Manhattan. In our house, June is a busy month, but nothing gets celebrated harder than Pride.

Earlier this month, I had the honor of playing in the Seattle Pride Classic at the Kraken Community Iceplex. The invitation to share the ice with LGBTQ+ players from all over is an honor I don’t take lightly. Striking up a conversation on the bench between shifts, I turned to the player next to me. “Nice tape job. Canucks fan?” I said, noting the different colors of tape spiraling down the blade. “No, these colors represent one of the queer flags,” they said.

The bad news is I felt like an idiot. The good news is, I’ll always recognize that flag. Trying means stumbling, losing the puck, shooting wide (pick your analogy), but I’ve never been too proud to admit I caused the turnover and apologize. And we both laughed because sometimes falling on your ass is funny.

From ice to asphalt, the Pride celebration continues as my family and I will be at the 50th annual Seattle Pride Parade on June 30. As someone who is known for their flair for flashy game-day suits, it should not come as a surprise that I love an excuse to get dressed up. Throw in good music and free swag and you’ll understand why I don’t miss a pride parade.

And no one does pride quite like Seattle. It’s no wonder the Kraken pull up to the parade every year with a crew so deep I momentarily worry we’re going to hold up the parade. We’re out there flinging Kraken giveaways like someone is keeping score of how many each employee can hand out—I always aim for the high score.

Of course, being an ally isn't just flinging Kraken patches into a crowd or embarrassingly mistaking flag colors for rival team branding. A lot of it is just showing up.

I show up for my queer wife so she knows I support her even if I still don’t understand what “Brat summer” means. I show up for my kids so they know I love their authentic selves no matter what. I show up for my friends so they know they’re safe with me. I show up because there are LGBTQ+ people out there who are being stood up by the ones they love, by policies, by corporations, by strangers.

People always praise me for being an ally, but having been on the receiving end of bigotry, I know how much easier it is to stand on this side. When I fight for BIPOC equality, I am always lifted by the voices and support of the LGBTQ+ community. Every single time, they have supported me in my fight to help end racism in hockey.

They have been incredible teammates to me and so being one to them was never a choice I made, it was just something I did—and will continue to do with whatever platform I’m given. Everyone deserves the safety and support to live their authentic lives. When we lift up those who need us most, we all reap the benefits of a safer and more inclusive space.

This Pride month, I’d like to encourage others to show up—unabashedly loud and proud—for yourself and for others. Have a happy, safe, and fun Pride!

[arachine]

yes, i'm ready (to fall in love)

── ˚₊✩‧₊ genre: smut, fluff, mild angst

── ˚₊✩‧₊ synopsis: after reader is persuaded into putting herself back out there by long time friend, shoko, she successfully ends up scoring a date. unbeknownst to her, though, the gods have different plans—and one of them seems especially interested in her relationship with ex-husband, gojo satoru.

or in other words: a failed date results in a night of passion amongst former lovers.

── ˚₊✩‧₊ contents: 13.5k words, ex-husband!gojo + co-parent!gojo, slight dub-con (alcohol use), dumbification, overstimulation, vaginal penetration, unconventional form of contraception (pull-out method - don’t do this), pussy eating + one oc for the sake of plot

── ˚₊✩‧₊ note: i know this is really long and most people don’t have the attention span for it but PLEASE give it a chance! this is literally the longest piece of fiction i’ve ever written and i’m really proud of it :(

songs to listen to for best reading experience: donny hathaway - i love you more than you’ll ever know barbara mason - i’m ready partynextdoor - showing you bryson tiller - been that way

After you divorced your ex-husband, and decided to devote all of your time to being a mother, you never really considered getting back into the dating world. Not that you didn’t eventually want to settle down with someone new, but the dating world now was just so–different.

Different in the sense that meeting people organically was becoming increasingly difficult. It wasn’t like how it used to be in high school or college, and it really didn’t take that much effort then to get a man’s number by the end of your outing. 

When you were in your early twenties, a brush of your hand on a man’s arm would’ve worked. An ‘accidental’ bump into someone at a grocery store or cafe might’ve ended in a quick lay. Using these tactics today, though, might earn you some weird looks–have–earned you some weird looks. 

You’re on call with a friend from college when you begin recounting something embarrassing that happened to you recently. At first, the conversation started out about all of the professors you would’ve slept with (if given the chance), but then, one thing led to another, and she asked you something that made you wince: 

“‘How’s your dating life been since, you know, Satoru?’” 

There’s a heavy silence from your end, and she almost thinks you hung up. 

“I mean, if you want to share,” she splurts, attempting to approach this gently, “I know that after the divorce, I wasn’t there for you like you needed, but I’d like to make up for that–if you’d let me.”

Shoko’s always been like that. Blunt and charismatic, but gentle and zephyr-light in the way she cares for those closest to her. It’s a trait of hers that you admire, because not so many people would care to treat your heart with such fragility.

“No, it’s okay. You can ask, you know, it’s not this secret thing,” you start, sighing before continuing, “it happened, and it was a mutual decision.”

Shoko hums on the other side, “Well, I’m still sorry. I let us go without talking for far too long…”

“Well, I accept your apology, even if it’s unwarranted. Like I said, it was mutual and…there wasn’t really an intense grieving period for me? The only thing that hurt me is that you distanced yourself. I mean, the girls did miss their aunt Shoko…” you say, trying to make her feel bad but not too bad. 

“I know, I know, I’m a bad aunt,” she jests, then the tone shifts to something serious. “I think I was just scared because both of you were my best-friends. I didn’t want to ‘pick sides’, but I see now that it was a mutual decision, so I’m assuming you two are on good-terms?” 

Again, you pause, “I mean, yeah. Satoru will always be my best friend. We may not be together romantically but he’s such an integral part of my life, I couldn’t do this–all of this–alone.” After you say it, you feel a weight being lifted off of your chest that you didn’t know was even there. 

You think nobody would understand if you told them this. You think they’d question how a person could divorce someone who’s supposed to be their best-friend. And with the way you describe it, they’d probably think you were still in love with him. But Shoko’s different, she gets it. Which is why saying it to her came so easily. 

“He is a great father,” she chimes in, “but you two rushed into it so quickly, I don’t think either of you had time to discover yourselves after college.”

Although she can’t see it, you smile. Because she gets it. Even if time did place itself in between the two of you, she was there for most of it, when things were still touch-and-go. When things were fresh, and clumsy. 

“Exactly, that was our biggest gripe,” you admit, “We didn’t afford ourselves that time to grow, and I think that hindered our relationship. We weren’t husband and wife first, we were parents–and we were young, way too young.”

“You made it, though,” Shoko tries to brighten the mood, “you’re both amazing parents, and I know those beautiful girls that you created are lucky to have you.” 

The intimacy of the conversation sends your emotions into overdrive. You quickly realize how much you missed her, how much you yearned to talk to her. To reconnect on this level. 

A single tear cascades down your cheek, and you try not to sound like you’re crying when you say, “Ok, enough about that. You wanted to know about my shitty dating life, right?”

It happened last week, the grocery store incident. You were out picking up a few things for dinner when you spotted a cute guy standing outside of the aisle a few rows from you. He was fit beyond measure, in looks and strength, and was wandering around aimlessly in pursuit of red pepper flakes. 

Coincidentally, you just happened to be in the seasoning aisle, and like the good samaritan you were, decided to personally hand-deliver it to him. 

You wince as you vividly recall the embarrassing ordeal that ensued immediately after. 

“Hey,” you peer from behind the aisle, with a bottle of red pepper flakes in tow. “I heard you mumbling about finding this, and you looked pretty lost, so I thought I’d pick ‘em out for you.” 

The man’s brows furrow briefly before his lips up-turn into a grateful smile, “Oh, cool, thank you so much!” As quickly as the conversation started, it ends even quicker. He gives you a final nod of endearment before he’s turning around on his heels to resume his shopping. 

“God, could he be any more dense? The men today really make you work for it, huh?” you mumble to yourself, pulling the bosom of your blouse down until a good amount of cleavage is on display. “Okay, alright. You got this, you got this. This always used to work, right? Yeah, men love boobs.”

Walking up to the man again, you try a different approach–a bolder approach. “Not to be a bother but I was wondering if I could-”

“Babe? Oh, there you are,” a new voice interjects. The owner of the voice emerges from around the corner and walks up to the man with a cart and a baby in tow. You’re stunned, to say the least. All you can do is stand there and blink in complete and utter dumbfoundment. As you remain in their presence, you take a moment to analyze the woman. She’s gorgeous, and toned. A real model-type broad, with feline-ish features that make so much sense paired with the man who appears to be her partner. 

Oh, you think, and apparently say aloud, too. That’s when the woman turns to you, finally acknowledging your much smaller, and much quieter presence. 

“Hi, can we help you?” she smiles, and it’s actually genuine. Toothy and perfect, and totally not jealous. You blink once, twice, before gathering your wits to answer her question. 

“Yeah, uh, no. I actually, uhm, was helping your h-husband. He was looking for red pepper flakes,” you mutter embarrassedly, and point to the bottle in his hand. Upon further observation, you notice that she isn’t exactly wearing a ring. You find this odd, especially because his not wearing a ring is what encouraged you to pursue him. Carefully, you prod. 

“If I may ask, how come neither of you are wearing rings?” The couple gives each other a look, one that makes you feel like the odd man out. A look that is universally known, and without a doubt, could easily be translated to: ‘did this chick really just ask that?’

Still, you smile as you wait for an answer. The woman takes the initiative. “Yeah, we don’t really believe in rings, isn’t that right, babe?” she says so matter-of-factly. You blink again for what seems like the thousandth time, because of all things, you did not expect that to come out of her mouth. Her husband is quick to validate her statement. 

“Yeah, we think rings are unnecessary, you know? You don’t need a piece of metal to confirm your feelings,” he says walking to his partner’s side and wrapping an arm around her. 

Disgustingly, the two give each other googly eyes before locking lips briefly. You can tell they’re the type to probably share this information with just about any soul who asks. Today, you just happened to be that unfortunate soul. 

“Are you married?” she queries, tilting her head against her husband’s chest.

“I was, now we just…co-parent,” you purse your lips, ready for this entire interaction to be over. The woman frowns at your answer, and this time it’s not as genuine.

“Awe, well, I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It was actually a mutual decision,” you quip.

“Okay,” she smiles, widening her eyes at her husband to signal a departure, “well, it was nice meeting you, and thank you for the red pepper flakes.”

The family turns away and heads to the front where check-out is. You don’t even buy the items you intended to purchase, just leave your cart in the middle of whatever aisle you abandoned it and leave the store.

“Oh, baby, you didn’t?” Shoko asks in horror. You nod your head, still forgetting she can’t see you and the way you’re sliding down against the wall. 

“I did, and I shan't ever again,” a laugh erupts from your throat. 

“I mean, fuck, are we getting old? ‘Don’t believe in rings,’” she mumbles, “Don’t believe in rings, my ass! Is this what the youth are doing these days? Not proposing with rings?”

Now that you think about it, you wonder how that would even work. “Yeah, right? I mean, how does that even work? ‘Will you marry me? But, actually, you should know I don’t have a ring for you, so people will have to guess that we’re together purely based on vibes and energy,’” you mock, in a not-so-great man voice. 

Shoko’s laughing so hard by the end of your bit that she breaks the sound barrier, and the sound that makes on the phone sends you into your own fit of laughter. You laugh so hard it seems like a stream of pee comes out. Curse your developed incontinence after motherhood.

“God, you’re so stupid, I can’t breathe,” she says exasperatedly, and you know that on the other side she’s probably keeling over in her bed. 

“Oh, please. I bet you haven’t laughed this hard in a long time, bitch.”

“I haven’t,” she cackles. This back-and-forth continues until the two of you settle down enough to continue discussing your (pee-inducing) love life. 

“You tried any dating apps?” 

It’s a simple and valid question, but it only makes you laugh even harder. You only stop when the other side of the line goes quiet. “Wait, seriously?”

“Yeah, seriously. It’s what everyone’s doing these days! You’re not that old, you know.”

“Shut up,” you kid, “ it’s just that I never considered it. I mean, dating apps feel so impersonal. How serious do people even take it?” 

“Sure, there’s people who use it for casual hook-ups and stuff, but a lot of people do come out of it with a relationship. Just don’t knock it ‘till you try it.”

“Oh?” you muse, curious. You wish Shoko could see your face, and the weird little dance your brows were doing. “Shoko, have you used a dating app before?” 

The brunette kisses her teeth. “Can’t get anything past you.”

“Never.”

There’s a sense of hesitance but you encourage her to elaborate because ‘she became estranged from you for almost a decade and needed to pay her dues’. Sighing defeatedly, she eventually acquiesces. 

“Fine, fine, maybe I’ve…been on a few dates,” she starts, “–and had a few one night stands, maybe more than a few, and maybe even dated a guy that turned into my stalker–”

“Ieiri Shoko! You naughty, naughty girl! Wait, stalker?”

“To make a long story short, I got a restraining order on that creep. Anyway,” she segues, attempting to change the subject, “We should make you a profile!”

For the rest of your phone call, Shoko guides you through all of the dating app basics. She offers her expert advice as you scroll through your camera roll for potential photos to use. You go through about a hundred before you finally settle on five that she really likes. 

The one that she tells you to put first is a photo of you in a bikini. It’s a few years old but she says you look ‘radiant’ and that your ‘tits were practically spilling out of the cups’. Plus, for further consolation, she says most people on dating apps are liars. 

“Everyone’s got at least one old photo on their profile, doesn’t make you a catfish,” she quips, “just means you’re a nostalgic person!” 

“Right…” 

The next one is a selfie. You’re smiling big in it, showing your gums, and it’s genuine. Shoko says guys like those types of photos because it shows them that you’re approachable. It also won her over because it’s fairly recent, too. 

Out of all your photos, there’s only a select few that were taken within the year. You had to admit to her that you never really took photos of yourself anymore. Satoru took most of your candids. Still, she had a mission. And she wasn’t going to be satisfied until she stuck around to see your first match. 

“After the selfie you should put the one of you with the girls.”

The picture she’s referring to is one Satoru also took. You remember that day fondly, and even now, the memories feel like a warm embrace. 

about 8 years ago . . .

“Dad, mom, look! Hurry!” Hana, your oldest, shouts. Satoru and you are sitting on a blanket up on the sand dunes with Haruki, who’s trying her best to make a sand castle–to no avail. 

“What is it, hon?” Satoru and you rush over to her, snatching toddler Haruki in the same breath. When you get to the scene, a flood of warmth washes over you upon discovering the ‘threat’. 

“See, it’s baby turtles!” Hana’s squatting in the sand, watching with pure and unfettered fascination as the hatchlings crawl north to the ocean. When she looks up at you, with eyes so bright, and a smile so big that’s missing two of her front teeth, you want to cry. 

“Oh, hon, that’s beautiful,” you gasp, lowering to your haunches so that you can join her. Satoru is about to follow suit before deciding at the last minute to go back to the blanket. When he returns, he snaps a picture unbeknownst to you. Eventually, though, you turn your gaze to him and he captures–what he used to think then–the ‘prettiest’ photo of you.

“You sneaking photos of me?” you squint, pointing at him. He trods closer until he’s standing above you. Then he snaps another. Your head’s tilted up, and you’ve got one eye open, and the other closed because of the sun. He always liked when you squinted like that because it made your nose do this cute little scrunch. 

“Yup, ‘cause you’re my muse.”

You’re pulled out of your daydream when Shoko says your name on the other line.

“You still there?” 

“Yeah, it’s just…”

“Just what?” she queries, waiting for a response. 

“I wanna use it, but my ex-husband took it. It feels weird, you know? And do I want to use a photo of me with the girls?”

“Hon, who cares if Satoru took the photo? It’s still a good photo, and to answer your second question, why wouldn’t you include a picture with your girls?”

“I don’t know, I guess I’m just afraid no one will be interested. Nothing about a picture of a mom with her two daughters exactly screams ‘fuck me’.”

Shoko lets out a small chuckle but you’re being serious. “Oh, sweetie. You’re so cute. Milfs are in these days, I don’t think I’m the one getting old, I think it’s just you!”

“Ha-ha, laugh at the mom,” you feign annoyance, but give her a laugh in return.

“But seriously, please use that photo. Nobody’s going to skip you just because you’re a mom. A lot of men on there have kids of their own, just gotta tweak your settings,” Shoko reassures you.

By the end of your call, the profile is set. You thank your old friend for the previous heart-to-heart conversation, and the time she spent helping you set up your profile.

“Keep me updated, and don’t talk about mom stuff, okay? Now, I’m not saying you can’t talk about them,” she begins, “but show these guys your personality! I know she’s in the closet somewhere hiding next to our old slutty clubbing clothes.”  

Then, the both of you say your goodbyes and she wishes you a good-luck on your newly established dating journey. As you lay in your bed, you give your profile a final onceover. Not too bad, you think to yourself. 

You ended up using all of the photos she had originally picked out for you. Even the beach photo. To compensate for your old photos, though, Shoko made sure that your prompts were witty and full of personality. 

“I’d match me, I think. No, yeah, these are funny. She did a good job.”

The following day, you open your phone to fifty notifications from the dating app. A tingle of excitement shoots through your body from the tip of your toes, to the top of your head. It takes all of your might not to squeal in the office. 

“Holy fuck,” you whisper at your desk. The amount of notifications that you initially saw on your homescreen read ‘50’ but when you opened the app, it showed you an overwhelming ‘100’ with a fat plus sign next to it. “Wait, are these all the people who liked me? Shoko’s gonna flip.” 

Getting up from your chair, you make a beeline to the nearest bathroom. Not that you have to use it, but so you can scroll through all the potential prospects without your boss seeing you on your phone. 

Pulling open the door to the bathroom, you close it shut behind you and lock it. A few minutes pass in the time you’re able to get through about half of the people who liked you. You end up skipping a lot of them. They’re either too young, too self-absorbed, creepy, or just downright not your type. 

Some stick out, though. Even trick you into thinking they’re potential matches, but then the other shoe drops–because there’s always another shoe. You’ll scroll through their profiles, and they’ll seemingly have all the perfect traits: intelligent, witty, handsome, tall–and then, boom. You see their ‘don’t want kids’ preference. Every failed match only discourages you more and more. 

It’s weird, because your profile preferences are set to ‘have kids’ and you even have a photo pictured with your girls. So why are men liking your profile despite that? After a few more scrolls, you’re just about ready to head back to your desk but then–you have a hit. 

Your finger hovers over the ‘x’ at the bottom of the screen, then retracts. The guy’s profile at first impression is miles better than the rest, it’s almost too good to be true. His first photo is what piqued your interest. It’s of him posing for a silly photo with his sons, and he’s got his arms draped around their shoulders. 

As you scroll down his profile, you see that there’s even more of him with his children. You take this as a green flag. He wants people to know he has kids, and that he isn’t embarrassed to show them off. You admire him for it. 

The last few remaining photos are an amalgamation of selfies and full-body photos. To the average, well-adjusted adult, looks wouldn’t be a deal breaker. But he definitely wasn’t too bad on the eyes, and you were not complaining about that–especially, after the odd men you had to scroll through to get here. In other words, he was gorgeous and still fit despite being older than you (him, respectively being in his early forties). 

Checking the time on your phone, you realize that you’re pushing your little ‘bathroom break’. Before heading back to your desk, you decide to respond to his first photo.

You: Cute! Could never get my girls to stand so still for a photo like this now haha :)

Work goes by slower than you’d like, but finishes up just in time when you get a notification from the dating app. You’re a little more excited than you’d care to admit. Tidying up your workspace, you say your goodbyes to your colleagues and head to the elevator. Absent-mindedly, you rush to answer his message but realize it won’t go through because of the elevator’s poor service.

Kazuki: Oh, they’re moody and grown now, don’t be fooled. I can't remember the last time I saw my youngest smile. 

You don’t answer his reply until you get home. Actually, you do just about everything but answer his reply: check on the girls, shower, prepare dinner, pour a glass of wine–you’re nervous, and you don’t know why. But you know you should probably answer soon before he becomes disinterested. So you get comfortable in bed with your glass of wine and pull open his chat.

You: Lol, know that all too well. Kids are little assholes, aren’t they?

The speed in which he reads your text is startling, you don’t even have enough time to close out of the chat. Then, he responds. 

Kazuki: Hell yeah they are! 

Kazuki: Sometimes I want to strangle my youngest. He’s at that age where he’s starting to rebel and question everything. I told him he was supposed to be the ‘easy’ one, but his knucklehead brothers are bad influences on him…Tell me, does it ever get easier?

You: Sounds a lot like my oldest. She used to cling to me like a koala but now she’s the ring leader, and I’m the enemy. My youngest still loves her mama, though (for now lol). 

You: And to answer your question, I’d like to think so? 

You take a second before continuing your response. Shoko told you to keep the mom talk limited, but this seems to be working for you so far, and he’s genuinely interested in what you have to say. So for once, you’re going to ignore her advice. 

You: Kids go through phases. It's our job to reassure them that we’re not going anywhere. No matter how much they push us away or try to, that is :)

Kazuki’s chat bubbles pop up, then disappear. You think he’s deciding on what to say. 

Kazuki: I can tell we’re gonna get along great. It’s nice opening up like this, you know? Talking to another parent. If I'm being honest, dating apps have always intimidated me…

Kazuki: People see kids as ‘baggage’, and it really bothers me. My kids aren’t baggage. They’re the best parts of me. And if someone doesn’t see that, then we have no business getting to know each other. 

Kazuki: Sorry for getting all sappy. Just felt like I needed to say it. 

His apology makes you frown. It feels like a breath of fresh air to hear someone talk about their kids so lovingly, because you feel the exact same way. You’re glad you downloaded the app, and you make a mental note to thank Shoko again later (after you debrief her about this). 

You: Never apologize for speaking about your kids! And if we’re being absolutely transparent, that was my biggest gripe with downloading this app, too. 

You: I’m so glad we matched each other. I’d like to get to know you more. And I’m hoping the feeling’s mutual?

Kazuki: It’s more than mutual. 

Kazuki: Don’t want to get ahead of myself but how do you feel about dinner? There’s a cool high-scale restaurant in the city that I haven’t been to yet. Heard it’s got two Michelin stars despite opening up not too long ago. 

The prospect of going on a sit-down dinner date has your stomach in knots. It’s been a hot minute since the last time you’ve done so, but you’re eager to know the man behind the screen on a more personal level. Plus, being treated to a high-scale restaurant with two Michelin stars doesn’t seem too bad either. You’re never one to turn down free dinner.

You: I’d love to, but how soon we talkin’? Gotta see if it’ll align with my schedule.

Kazuki: How’s this Friday at 8 sound? :)

The days leading up to Friday breeze by in a blur. For the majority of the week, it feels like you’re walking on cloud nine. Eventually, the conversation transitions from the dating app to exchanging phone numbers, and since then, the two of you have been texting back-and-forth everyday.

You talk about mundane things. Work, shows, movies, books you’ve recently read, what your kids are up to–but the other things? The other messages are flirty, and sexy, and filled with so much tension that it could cut a rope in half. 

In between messages, the two of you have also exchanged a few photos. Nothing risqué or anything of that nature, just random photos of you throughout the day. The last one he sent was a few hours ago of him at work, captioned with: ‘Could this meeting be any longer?’. 

You reply to the message with the ‘ha ha’ reaction, in consideration of not wanting to get him in trouble at work (even if he was the one who initiated the conversation). As the days go by, though, you make it a habit to update Shoko every step of the way. 

Her first reaction to hearing about him was enthusiastic. That is, until you showed her screenshots from his profile. You vaguely remember her saying something that was meant as a compliment, but came out more like an insult. 

“‘Oh, he’s a dad!” was her initial response, “oh, he’s a dad…and he really loves his kids. You’re meant for each other.’” 

When you tried to ask her what she meant by that, she changed the subject. Every update since then has earned slightly more positive reactions, though.

Today, you ask her for more advice. Only this time, you’re on video call. 

“Shokoooo,” you drawl, “our date is tomorrow! You have to help me find something to wear.” The panic in your voice is so palpable, she can almost feel your shaky hands through the screen. Flipping the camera, you hurriedly pan your phone around the closet. 

“Breathe, girl, breathe,” she demonstrates first, before telling you to repeat the same motions. “Take me to that section over there–no, not that one–wait, yep, there.” You amble over to the area she’s directing you to through the phone.

“What’s that black little number right there?” She points. You prop the phone up on a shelf and scour through the section, tugging out a dress you haven’t seen in ages (which has you questioning how she even spotted it because it was pretty far back into the closet). Walking back into frame, you hold the fabric up to your body. 

Shoko nods in approval, “That’s the one, babe. Try it on!” 

It’d been about a decade since the last time you wore this dress. It’d also been about a decade since you were ever this small. Looking in the mirror, you run your hands over every surface inch, every crevice of the dress, in a newfound sense of appreciation for the adult weight you’ve gained since becoming a mother. 

The dress was always stunning but it hugged everything perfectly even more so now. When you walk back into frame, your friend gives you a look of pure adoration. She’s so enthralled that she snaps a few screenshots for keepsaking. 

“Thank god it’s Satoru’s turn to get the kids tonight,” she says, “‘cause you’re definitely getting some tonight.” 

You roll your eyes, reminding her she’s on speaker phone. “Oh, please. It’s just dinner!”

“Not in that dress,” she retorts, wagging her finger in the camera. While the two of you continue to chat about the details of tonight, a knock on your bedroom door draws your attention. 

“Mom, can I come in?” the voice sounds. It’s Haruki. 

“Come in, hon!” 

After you give the ok, you turn to Shoko and mouth to her to behave. Haruki turns the knob and enters, closing the door behind her. She sees you standing in front of the mirror before you see her, and silently utters a ‘wow’. You’re just about done putting your earrings in when you join her in the other room. 

“What do you think, bun? Does your mom look hot?” you spin around, smoothing your hands down the length of the dress. You wait in anticipation for her approval, because if anyone could tell it like it is, it was always going to be a kid. Your Haruki was no exception. 

“You look really pretty, Mom. I’m glad you’re going out tonight, I mean, you don’t really have friends so I think this will be good for you,” she elaborates, though you wish she would’ve stopped at the compliment. 

Still, it puts a smile on your face to hear her verbalize that she’s okay with you doing something for yourself. You never quite discussed the prospect of getting back out there with your kids–and not even intentionally. It just never felt like the right time. 

“You could’ve stopped at the compliment, punk!” you grab her, then wrap her in your arms, “but thank you. Love you, bun.”

“Love you more, mama.” Neither of you make the effort to pull away. Instead, you both stand there. Hugging, breathing, embracing each other’s warmth. You don’t always get hugs this good, so when you do, you savor it. Drag it out until your arms and legs get all tingly. 

Or until someone interrupts. Another knock on the door. This time it’s Hana. 

“Ew, what’s going on?” Hana feigns a look of disgust. You know she’s just jealous; she’ll never admit it, though. Which is why sometimes you have to force her to participate. 

“Get over here,” you scrunch your nose, forcefully pulling her into your tight embrace. She tries to protest but eventually accepts defeat. You squeeze them both until they whine that they can’t breathe anymore. Then you squeeze them some more because this one’s for you. 

“My special girls,” you breathe in, taking in all of their love. Soaking it all up so that tonight you have the courage to try again. To allow yourself a love of your own. When you let go, there’s a sniffle from the closet. It totally dawned on you that Shoko was still on the phone. 

“They’re so big now, they don’t even know their auntie,” she fakes a sob, blowing her nose into a tissue. 

“Mom, who’s on the phone?” Haruki queries with a confused expression etched onto her face. It suddenly dawns on you again that although you’ve been communicating with Shoko again, you haven’t exactly told them. 

“Hey, you came in here to tell me something right, Han?” Your attempt to change the subject is poorly done, which doesn’t come as a surprise to you considering deflection has never quite been an ability you excelled at. Nonetheless, the look of suspicion they give you after is fleeting before they explain to you in unison that their father is here. 

“Your father’s been waiting down there this whole time and nobody cared to tell me?” you whisper-yell, left eye twitching to emphasize your ill-preparedness. The girls only shrug their shoulders in response, like this was something you were just supposed to know. 

“Well, you did force us into a hug and make us do all that Kumbaya stuff,” Hana mumbles under her breath.

“Okay, enough about all that. Are you guys all packed? Where are your bags? I don’t want your dad seeing–” 

“You don’t want dad to see your date, right?” Hana raises a brow, all knowing. Sometimes she was a little too smart for her own good. You want to blame that on the private schools Satoru had them enrolled in, but really you just know she’s just a menace in her own right. She learned that from him. 

“I agree with the kid,” a voice chimes in. You rush to the closet and grab your phone from the shelf. There’s a huge, shit-eating grin on Shoko’s face. Somehow she’s responsible for this. You don’t know how yet, nor do you have proof, but you know it. 

“Okay, thank you, love you, bye!” Before you can hang up, Shoko blurts something. 

“Tell him I said hi,” she begins, “–andnottogetahardonwhenheseesyou!”

You hang up the call and roll your eyes, chuckling to yourself because of her idiocy. When you enter the corridor, you hear a faint sound of hushed voices from downstairs. It’s only when you round the bannister at the top, when those voices become discernible and louder. 

You stop at the top, and when your eyes meet his, it feels like all the air in your lungs have expelled. Suddenly, you’re hyper-aware of what you’re wearing, and the fabric, and the way it clings to your body. Neither he, nor you, look away–you should, you want to, but you don’t. 

And in the time the two of you gaze upon the other, time stops for a modicum of a second. In this second, you and him are the last two souls in the world. At least, that’s how it feels anyway before he breaks eye contact. 

You shift your gaze shortly after, and put on a trained smile. Those eyes of his were always so intense. You guess you forgot over the years how easy it was to lose yourself in the crystalline pools of them. Gathering your wits, you resume your movements and saunter down the imperial staircase. 

“Hey, didn’t mean to keep you waiting. Sort of lost track of time, but I think the girls are all packed,” you say, your voice coming to a decrescendo upon noticing the way his eyes trail over your frame. They’re unreadable, though. Indifferent, and honestly, you’re not sure how to feel. So, you begin fidgeting uncomfortably with the rings around your finger. 

Then, he smiles. It’s eerie and fake. “Not a problem, I haven’t been here too long. But, uh,” he begins ambling around the place, touching random objects around the living room, “Didn’t know you had plans. What’s the occasion? Going out for drinks with your colleagues?” 

You furrow your brows, confused with his sudden interests in your plans. It wasn’t really like him to prod. “No, actually,” you rock back-and-forth on the balls of your heels, “i’m…i’m going on a date,” you finish with a pursed smile. He only nods his head in response, still walking around the place touching stuff, messing with the picture frames on the mantle. They’re all crooked now. 

“How come this is the only picture you have up of me,” he asks suddenly. You know, that he knows, the answer to that. And he knows, that you know, you’ll indulge in his games anyway. 

“The girls wanted them in their rooms. Why do you ask? You want me to go grab them and put ‘em all up around the house?” Again, he doesn’t say anything. Just gives you a final once over before heading back to the foyer to ask if the girls are all set to go. 

“Yeah, but I can’t find my tablet, dad. Can I go look for it?” Haruki speaks up. “I thought I packed it.”

Satoru looks at the time on his watch, pinches the crease in between his brows. “Sure, kiddo. Can we make it quick, please?” He throws his hand in the air for emphasis, then points to his watch. Haruki nods, then runs up the stairs. 

“Actually, you go on up too and help your sister. You guys are holding up dad,” you turn to Hana and gesture for her to head up with your head. She rolls her eyes, yelling up the stairs for her younger sister to ‘freaking hurry up’. 

You and Satoru both turn to each other with wide eyes, laughing at the nerve of those children. 

“They get that attitude from you, you know,” you point to him, driving your index finger into his bicep. 

“You sure? Their mom’s got a pretty bad mouth on her, too. Or, have you forgotten?” He teases, bending his knees slightly to level his eyes with yours, intruding into your space. The smirk he dons is cheeky, too friendly–too inviting. You want to smack it off of him. 

“Oh, shut u–” the sound of your phone chiming interrupts your banter. It’s a message from Kazuki, and you open it while Satoru stands over you. Probably close enough to read the message on his own if he wanted. 

Kazuki: Hey, I hate to do this but I don’t think I can go through with tonight. 

When you read the message, your heart drops into your stomach. There goes the other shoe, you think, fully embracing your pessimism. Who were you kidding, really? To think that tonight you’d go out and have a good time. Do something for yourself. It was stupidity. 

Chat bubbles pop up on the screen. He has more to say. 

He has more to say, and you’re fighting the urge to cry–to not shake out of sheer frustration while you’re still standing in front of Satoru. Because nothing would be worse than him seeing you can’t even land a date. 

Kazuki: I recently just went through a divorce, and I know that I should have informed you about this before continuing our conversations…Especially since you’ve been so transparent with me about your own divorce and strife.

Kazuki: But if I’m being completely honest, I was scared. I genuinely wanted to see this through, at first. I wanted to forget about my ex-wife for just one night. But I realized I’ve been asking the impossible of myself…I’m still in love with her, and it’s because I’m in love with her that I won’t allow myself to lead you on any further. 

Kazuki: I think we would’ve had a good time tonight. It's unfortunate we had to meet under such circumstances because you’re a really lovely woman, and I’m sorry an asshole is standing you up right now. 

Kazuki: Take care. I know there’s a guy out there just waiting for his shot. 

Satoru takes notice of the way your face drops as you read over the messages. Part of him wants to overstep his boundaries and take a peek at the screen. But he doesn’t. He gives you your space and takes a seat on the couch, waits for you to say something first. 

In the meantime, he studies your face. Watches intently as your eyes become glossy the more you scan the messages, watches as your bottom lip catches between your teeth to hold back from crying. He thinks he knows what just happened. 

Taking a deep breath, you lock your phone and put on another trained smile, “Well, looks like I’m staying in tonight.” Satoru dislikes when you do that. When you put on a fake smile and overcompensate to make others around you feel better, even when it’s so very obvious you aren’t. He wishes that sometimes you would just be selfish–act out. 

And then you continue the façade. It makes his skin itch. 

“I was too tired anyway, guess I can just catch up o–”

“Will you stop,” he spits, rising from his seat on the couch to stand. It comes out harsher than he intended, but he doesn’t regret it. You look at him like he’s got two heads as he walks over to the mantle and leans against it. His back is turned towards you, and the palms of his hands hold the crest of it. He uses it as leverage to rock on the heels of his feet. You can tell there’s something he wants to say because of the way his jaw ticks. 

Satoru is never one to bite his tongue, so you’re not exactly sure why he’s choosing to be so restrained. If he wasn’t going to spit it out, you were going to poke. “What’s your problem?” 

He chuckles at this, rubs his chin then pushes off the mantle to stand in front of you, gets all in your space again. The movement almost sends you back but you hold your ground, tilt your chin up at him and repeat the question. Slowly, this time with more venom. 

“My problem? What’s your problem?” He breathes through his nose, his eyes flickering back-and-forth between your own. “Why do you always pretend like you’re not lonely? It’s okay if you were looking forward to having fun tonight. It’s okay to be upset and be mad at the asshole who stood you up!”

With every verbal prod at you, the gap between you decreases. His feet inch closer and closer to your own and force you to retreat farther until your back hits the wall. The coldness of it causes your breath to hitch, and you try to stay calm as Satoru encroaches more into your personal space. Being on the receiving end of his passion was always suffocating, you feel exposed under the intensity of his gaze–even more so as he continues to tear into you. 

“Why do you even care?!” you cut him off, eyes wide and veins pumping full of adrenaline. “It’s not your place to be so invested in my life anymore! We’re not together, you don’t have to get so hot and bothered about things going shitty for me. I’m a big girl, and I’m perfectly capable of fighting my own battles.” 

By the time you finish, you’re a heaving, shaking mess. He takes this as a sign to withdraw from your space, and goes to sit back down on the couch. When you finally settle your nerves, you join him, leaving a foot of space in between you. There’s an awkward silence, one that wouldn’t have even happened if he just respected your boundaries in the first place. Now he feels like the asshole instead of the actual asshole who dumped you. Taking a hesitant breath, he decides to speak up. 

“Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t…It wasn’t my intention to come off so strong like that,” he begins, “I just wanted to let you know that you don’t always have to pretend to be fine. It’s not fair, you shouldn’t do that to yourself.” His eyes wander over to you reluctantly, like he’s scared that if he looks too long you’ll disengage from the conversation. 

“It’s okay,” your voice is small, just above a whisper. You want to face him, but you know that if you do, you'll break into a million pieces. So you keep your gaze downward, busy yourself with the stray pieces of thread on the bottom of your dress. “You’re right, you know. I think I just…I think I just tell myself to expect disappointment so that when something bad happens, I’ll know it’s not because I got my hopes up.” 

Satoru turns to you, and you can see him frown through your peripheral. Still, you don’t face him because you’re not done talking. But you thank him silently for listening without interrupting. 

“Even though you’re right, I don’t appreciate the way you came on so strongly. We’re not married anymore, we’re not a couple–we’re co-parents. So if there’s something I want you to know about that’s outside of the scope of our kids, I’ll let you know. Otherwise, leave it alone.”

Satoru’s face softens. For once you’re being selfish, putting your foot down. This is the side of you he likes. “Okay. I respect that,” he says, “But can I ask you something?” The smile on his face is mirthful, like he’s got something else up his sleeves this evening. Skeptical, you finally face him with a raised brow. 

“What?”

“Let me take you to dinner.” 

You laugh in his face, even go as far as smacking his arm because you want him to know you found the joke really funny. He doesn’t budge, and that’s when you realize he’s being serious. 

“Wait, what?” 

“Let’s go to dinner,” he stands up, crossing his arms across his chest. You tilt your head in disbelief. You’re just waiting for someone to tell you you’re on that old reality show punk’d. 

“Funny, I just poured my heart out to you and now you’re making fun of me,” you roll your eyes, feigning annoyance. 

“I’m being serious,” he reassures, “you’re already dressed up. It’d be a shame for it to go to waste.” His eyes are twinkling with hope, and once again, you find yourself falling victim to their persuasiveness. 

Being under Gojo Satoru’s gaze was suffocating. 

Giving in, you ask, “So what are you gonna do? Drive all the way home to get dressed?” 

The question is genuine, but the bastard just grins. “I’m a little hurt,” he throws a hand over his heart, “don’t you know me by now? I’m a businessman. I keep pressed blazers and slacks on me at all times.”

He swings his keys around his index finger, hoping that the promise of a spare change of clothes being in his car is enough to convince you to say yes. 

“I don’t know…” you trail. 

“C’mon, let me take you out. I promise you won’t regret it.”

Somehow he was able to persuade you into going out. After he changed into his spare clothes, you ended up telling your girls that there was gonna be a change of plans, and that they’d go home with their dad tomorrow. 

Of course, before leaving, you made sure to leave some money on the table for pizza, and you also made sure to drill into their heads not to open the door for anyone except the delivery guy. You knew they knew the drill already, but it didn’t feel right to leave without saying it anyway. 

“Be good, listen to your sister, she’s in charge,” you pinch Haruki’s cheek. Hana smirks, nodding her head in agreement with you. 

“I will mom, I know,” she huffs, crossing her arms.

“And you,” your finger wags at Hana, her smirk drops. “Don’t provoke your sister, be nice. Act like you love each other, please.” 

“Fine, whatever. I guess,” she grabs the knob to the door, ready to kick the both of you out already. “So does this mean the two of you are back together, or?” 

Satoru and you turn to each other before answering in unison, “No.” 

“Okay, cool. Well, have fun,” she practically closes the door on the two of you, locking it after. Satoru is just as dumbfounded as you are, but then you break into a fit of laughter. 

“Those kids, man.”

“Your kids!” you correct, pushing him playfully as the both of you walk down the pebbled pathway. He finds his equilibrium in time to unlock the car and open your side of the door. You pause before ducking inside.

“Oh, how gentlemanly of you,” you jest, “And they say chivalry is dead.”

“How could it be when I’m alive?” He says matter-of-factly, closing your side of the door. He taps the top of the car before sliding across the hood to the other side. Nice to see some things never changed. 

When he gets inside and turns on the car, he puts his hand on the back of your seat to back out. The proximity sends a shiver down your spine, and you have to physically refrain from letting your eyes linger on his jaw, and his arms, and the face he makes when he’s trying to concentrate. 

You try to dispel these less-than-friendly thoughts by looking somewhere, anywhere else but him. But you can’t, and it’s irritating. 

This is the second time tonight you’ve been this close, and it’s only this time that you realize something about him is…different. Earlier, he didn’t really smell like anything, but you quickly notice his smell has changed. 

There’s a sort of piney scent coming from him. It’s not strong or obnoxious enough to blind your nostrils, but it’s enough for you to just barely pick up on it. You almost think it was premeditated, that he took the liberty of spritzing some on before walking you to the car. Before you separated, he’d made it a habit to wear variations of woody scents for you. If you can recall correctly, a passing comment you made about the cologne he was wearing that day is what sparked the habit. 

Surely, this couldn’t be coincidental? 

“You smell nice,” you blurt, filling in the silence. 

Satoru glances at you, “Thank you.” You hate that from the corner of your eye, you can see his stupid little smirk growing bigger by the minute. He already had a big ego, it didn’t need to be stroked any more. 

“Don’t let it go to your head, though. You usually smell pretty rank.”

“Ohhh, is that so? Guess I gotta start wearing this more often then, huh?”

“Sure, do what you want,” you say, trying to remain indifferent even though you’re failing terribly to hide your smile. When the car approaches a red light, you finally decide to ask the big question. “So where are you taking me?” 

“You’ll see,” he glances over, “Just know I’m good friends with the owner, so last minute reservations weren't a problem.” 

The rest of the car ride is silent, save for the low hum of the music playing on the radio. When you arrive at the location, Satoru makes sure to walk all the way around to your side of the door again and open it. Immediately after, the two of you are greeted by a young male. He’s wearing a white button down, black slacks, and a black vest with a red tie. Judging by his appearance, you assume he’s a valet driver. 

Satoru drops his keys in the driver’s hands, and escorts you towards the entrance. The boy bows and goes to park the car. Looking around, you start to wonder where exactly this place is supposed to be. The area is dark and secluded, and from where you stand outside, it doesn’t sound like there’s supposed to be a restaurant here. You don’t hear any voices, you don’t even see any security or other passerbyers. 

Still, you follow behind him like a duckling, only coming to a halt when he leads you to a door taller than the both of you. He gestures for you to back up, then raises his knuckles to blow a strong, single knock. You’re taken by surprise when a set of angry eyes appear behind a slot in the door. 

The pair of eyes first scan over you, then Satoru. A gruff voice is second to accompany them, “Where can I get a good drink?” 

“I heard the bar down the street is nice,” Satoru answers. The hatch to the door closes, then swings open the door, and the man behind it moves aside to welcome you in.

“Follow me, please.” Once he closes the door, he begins guiding you down the dimly lit hallway. After making what seems like your hundredth turn, you eventually reach a staircase. The man gestures for you to go on ahead, and you think this is him implying where the three of you will depart.

“Thank you,” you say softly, disappearing down the stairs. Satoru isn’t too far behind, keeping a pace between you. As you near the end of the long, narrow hallway, a stream of white light brightens up your whole path. It leads you down to another door like a beacon of light, and when you reach it, you can hear voices, live music, and dishes clanking on the other side. It’s bustling with life. A huge, joyous smile plasters across your face. It’s almost child-like in appearance, like you haven’t seen something this cool in a long time. 

Satoru stands beside you and winks. “What d’ya think? Any idea yet where we are?” 

“I think this is fucking cool, and hm,” you take a second to mull it over, “are we at a speakeasy?” 

“Smart girl. Now come on.” Stepping back, you allow him to pull open the door, and when he does, there isn’t a word to describe the atmosphere of the place you step into. All you can do is stand there in astonishment. Before long, a man walks up to you. 

“Welcome, what is the name you reserved under?” 

“Gojo.”

Nodding, the host instructs you to follow after him. He leads you to a private seating area, somewhere far in the back that’s secluded from the other patrons. The space is much bigger, and much more extravagant. You know you’re only sitting way back here because Satoru is who he is. And in all the years you’ve known him, his connections were just another party trick in his arsenal. 

The hostess seats you, then Satoru, and tells you that a waiter will be with you shortly. 

“This is nice, really nice, but is it–”

“Legal?” he finishes your sentence, “don’t worry. It’s a modern speakeasy-style restaurant. There’s nothing illegal going on here, promise.” 

While you wait for your designated waiter, your focus shifts from the man in front of you to the man singing on the stage. Up until now, his voice was white noise in the background, but then he started singing a tune scarily reminiscent of your past–and your breath catches in your throat. 

If I ever leave you, baby

You can say I told you so

And if I ever hurt you

You know, I hurt myself…

Turning your gaze back to Satoru, you squint your eyes mirthfully in disbelief. You wonder if this is just a funny coincidence, if this is the universe playing her tricks, but you know deep down, that coincidences and Gojo Satoru don’t belong in the same sentence. 

You open your mouth to speak, but quickly close it when you see the waiter approaching from the corner of your eye. He greets the both of you with a polite smile, then sets down two glasses of water. 

“Good evening, I’ll be your waiter for the night,” he says, placing a menu in front of you, “Can I get you fine folks started off with a bottle of wine?” 

Satoru nods, tells him to bring the best bottle of red they have and then gestures for him to come closer so that he can whisper something in his ear. All the while, you sit back in your seat observing, clicking your nails on the table until the server pulls back and bows. 

When he departs, you immediately lean in over the table, and ask, “Just how much time did you have to plan all of this?” 

Satoru feigns aloofness, taking a sip of his water, “What do you mean?” 

You roll your eyes, gesturing at the stage with your eyes. Then, as if suddenly coming to a realization, he goes, “Oh, that? Yeah, I had nothing to do with that. But isn’t it funny they’re playing our old song?” 

Now he’s smirking, with his elbow leaning back on the chair, and a gaze so piercing, you’re certain you’ll crumble into nothing unless you look away. So you do, avert your gaze back to the stage and sway calmly. 

Is that any way for a man to carry on

Do you think I want my loved one gone

Said I love you

More than you’ll ever know

More than you’ll ever know

“So funny,” you counter. 

Eventually, the server comes back with a bottle. “1982 Chateau Latife Rothschild,” he holds it out to present, “Is this alright?” 

Despite the years spent with Satoru, and the many elitist events you often attended with him, your knowledge on wine had never surpassed anything but surface level. You knew the difference between good wine and cheap wine was the taste, but your taste buds had grown accustomed to store-bought, so if anything, store-bought tasted like heaven to you. Anyway, though, you nod your head and urge him to pour a glass. 

“Thank you,” you smile, before gently swirling the glass and bringing it up to your nose to smell (something you only know to do after being the odd man out at so many company banquets). Satoru waits for you to sip your glass before he sips his. The way you melt into your seat is a silent assurance that you’re pleased. 

“This is great, you’re amazing,” you tell the server, who seems pleased by your compliment. 

“Glad to be of service, miss. Are you ready to order?” 

Dinner goes by smoothly. In fact, it goes by so smoothly, you and Satoru finish the entire bottle of wine. Now you sit at the table, bellies full, faces flushed and sore from laughing, and now you find yourself telling him about the grocery store incident. If you had half a mind (a sober one), you’d shut up right this second to save yourself from the embarrassment. But you don’t. And Satoru’s very persuasive when you’re tipsy. 

“Keep going,” he leans in, hand nestled under his chin. He’s completely invested in the story. Actually, as soon as he heard the words ‘store’ and ‘cute guy’, he just had to know more. And you begging him to change the subject didn’t help, not when the sadist in him loved to see you so embarrassed. 

“Fine,” you hiccup, “It was so - so bad, Toru.” He doesn’t miss the way you slip and call him by the nickname you’d always reserved for him. It makes his heart race, and god, does he miss the way it sounds spilling from your lips. But he ignores the feeling, and refocuses on your story instead. Which, by the way, was proving to be a task in itself because his eyes couldn’t stop drifting back down to your lips. So soft, so–

“And then she said ‘we don’t believe in rings,’” you whisper, fist coming down on the table. The sound it makes nearly sobers you up, and you realize just how loud you’re being despite your table being secluded from others. Giggling like a kid, you continue, “I mean, how fucking insane is that?!” 

“Something as bizarre as that could only ever happen to you,” he replies, laughing along with you, “those people were crazy.” 

“The craziest,” you agree, throwing your head back in another fit of laughter. Gradually, the two of you begin to settle down, and once again, you find your attention being drawn back to the man on the stage. Only this time, he’s making an announcement.

“Good evening ladies and gentleman. Tonight I’ve got a special request,” he says, looking out into the audience. Looking at you. “This one’s for a very special lady who, from what I’ve been told, is a great mother that needs to start doing things for herself.” 

The singer steps out of the spotlight and hands the note to a server. Your server. Then he begins to sing, and your heart drops into the pit of your stomach. It was your wedding song. 

[...] I don’t even know how to love you

Just the way you want me to

But I’m ready (ready) to learn (to learn)

Yes, I’m ready (ready) to learn (to learn)

“Now this one? This one was me,” Satoru leans forward, and you swiftly turn your head to face him. He smiles as he watches your face go through ten different emotions before ultimately softening. It warms your heart to see how incredibly planned this evening was, despite the amount of time he was given to work with. Even so, it kind of scares you–because then that meant this was a grand gesture–that this was his way of saying something. And you weren’t too sure if you wanted to hear it. Your gaze drops to your lap, and Satoru frowns. 

To fall in love 

To fall in love

To fall in love with you…

“Look at me,” he says softly, but you don’t. “Hey, look at me.” He reaches over the table to take your chin in between his fingers. The touch alone feels electric. Sends liquid hot lightning down the column of your spine. Reluctantly, you meet his gaze, and like always, it’s suffocating. They’re so wide with hope, and so, so gentle in the way they hold you. The longer you gaze upon them, the more you convince yourself it’ll be okay if you surrender to them. 

“It’s been years since we’ve divorced,” his voice is shaky, almost strained, like he’s actively thinking how to choose his words carefully, “and when we sat down that night, I thought it was what I wanted, too, you know? And for a while, it was,” he reaches a hand across the table to rest atop your own, “but you gotta know…you gotta know–you’re it for me. There’s no one else on this Earth that I want to start over with. You’ve always been the beginning and end of my story, and I’ll be damned if I let another man start one with you.”

Your heart is beating faster than you can even process what he’s saying. The only thing you’re focused on is not passing out in the middle of this damn restaurant. But then he��s squeezing your hand, and your focus is drawn back to those piercing, pale blues that even put crystals to shame. 

“So what do you say?” he says, so softly, so tender. “Can we try again?”

Waiting for your reply, he squeezes your hand again. It’s like your soul is wandering the line between death and the living, and his touch is the tether that brings you back. In the background, the tune of the song sung at your wedding gives you a push of courage. 

I don’t even know how to kiss your lips (kiss your lips)

At a moment like this

But I’m going to learn how to do 

All the things you want me to

Yes, I’m ready

(Are you ready?) Yes, I’m ready

To fall in love

To fall in love

To fall in love right now

“Yes.”

The walk back to the car is hurried. Aided by both, years and years of built up tension, and the liquid courage currently bubbling in your systems. 

The race back to his apartment is even faster. You thank the gods silently that it’s within close proximity to where you just were. 

Once you get there, make your way past the doorman and concierge (who both give the two of you a knowing look), go up the elevator, and finally get into his loft–it’s over. Years of restraint, years of pretending, wanting–yearning, come crashing down. 

There’s barely any time to close the door before he’s pushing you against it. His lips trail down the column of your neck, then come up to kiss your jaw, until eventually, they find your lips. And when they do, it’s instantaneous–that familiar feeling, the feeling that feels almost like falling. 

Once again, for what felt like centuries, you feel again the rush of helplessness. The push and pull of the tide. It brings you down, down, down to the bottom of the ocean floor, and it’s unmerciful. 

Kissing Satoru is like being shocked with ten thousand volts of energy. Like all this time you’ve spent not kissing him, has been costing you your life, and he’s the only one who can deliver you salvation. It’s all teeth and tongue for a minute. Messy, and sticky, and nasty. A true testament to the desperation brewing in the pits of both your stomachs. 

The sensation of it all has your knees going slack, and that’s when he says–

“Jump.” 

Obeying, you do just that. Jump right into his arms, and wrap your legs around his torso like you’ve done so many times before. The way you feel now is the way you used to feel before then, too. Like you were made to fit like this. To be held in his arms like you were molded from the same clay. 

Carefully, he adjusts his grip on your body. Keeps his palms planted on the bottoms of your ass, and begins the trek to his room. He struggles a bit getting there because you haven’t stopped kissing since entering the apartment, but he figures it out after a stumble or two (which resulted in a bitten lip and you apologizing profusely through giggles). 

“The turbulence up here is crazy, don’t blame me, blame the pilot,” you jest, kissing down his neck to make up for it. 

“I’ll make sure to let him know,” he jokes back. As soon as he gets to the bed, he sets you down at the edge of the bed. You try to bring him down to your height but he stops you, wags his finger in your face playfully before using it to push you back into the bed. His fingers start to play with the fabric of your dress, and then his face takes on an indifferent expression. The same one from earlier that night when he first saw you walking down the stairs. 

“Can’t believe you were gonna wear this for him…” he trails, lifting the fabric up slowly, eyeing you while doing so, “as if this dress doesn’t mean something.” 

Of course, when Shoko chose it, its significance did make you falter–but in your defense, not once did you ever anticipate for him to see you in it. And you especially didn’t expect for him to remember it, the last time you wore it was almost a decade ago. 

“I didn’t…” you start, a smile creeping on your lips, “think you remembered?”

“‘Course I did, how could I not?” He says more sharply than intended, taking offense. He takes offense because he spent the better half of the night showing you he remembered. The little things and everything else in between. Couldn’t you see that?

“It was our 4th anniversary. Bought you this dress and fucked you in it that same night. Funny how the second time I’m seeing you in this dress, the circumstances are the same except only this time we’re divorced,” he says, crawling over your body. “Guess I gotta show you just how much I remember.” 

With that, he slips a hand under your dress, pulls your panties to the side and runs a finger down your slit. Oh-so-willingly, do you spread your legs for him. It’s almost subconscious, the way your body responds to him. And he revels in it. Lets his fingers work you, feel you, bring you to ecstasy. Then he heightens your pleasure tenfold when he kisses his way down your body, and takes a seat before you on his knees. 

Unceremoniously, he pulls your body to the edge of the bed. Takes his time slipping your panties down the length of your legs, then kisses the insides of your thighs, before finally stopping at your mound. 

Slowly, he lowers himself to your cunt, kisses your clit softly. Once, twice, three times. The pace in which he’s moving is killing you, to say the least. But you know he’s savoring the moment, making up for all the years he spent not kneeling like this between your legs. So you let him; let him caress you all over before he comes seeking the honey-sweet salvation dripping from your core. 

The second his tongue makes contact with your heat, you find yourself clamping a heavy hand over your mouth. “Fuck, Toruuuu,” you drawl, back arching off the bed. Pleased with his abilities, he smiles smugly, using this as an opportunity to push himself even deeper. Up and down, he licks at your slit, uses his fingers in tandem with his tongue to prod at that spongy spot he knows you love. 

“Tastes,” a harsh suck, “so good,” another, “better than I remember.” 

You know he’s talking, but his words fall on deaf ears. You’re so caught up in your own high, you don’t even take notice of the obscene sloshing sounds coming from your pussy, or the moans you’re making. All you can do is lay there and take it as he takes, and takes, and takes from you. 

Soon, you find your orgasm cutting through you like a knife, and you come with a strangled cry that has you biting back tears. Satoru talks you through the whole thing. He lays his head down on your thigh and continues working you with his fingers until you start to shake from the overstimulation. 

For a few, you lay and stare at the ceiling. You think you can see the Milky Way–and all the constellations that make it up. It feels like your soul is floating beyond your physical body, and you don’t come back down to Earth until a sharp, stinging sensation brings you back. Did he just?

“Did you just bite me?” you lift your head, peering down to see the evidence. In all its glory, there it was; a red ring smack-dab in the inside of your thigh with teeth imprints. Looking at Satoru, he grins. 

“Had to get you back from earlier,” he says, sitting back on his knees. You attempt to kick him with your foot, but he grabs hold of it. Pretending to be wounded, he gasps, “Is this how you treat the man who just gave you a soul-shattering orgasm?” 

You roll your eyes, but to your dismay, it only encourages him to continue. 

“Fuck, Toru,” he mimics, “oh my god, Toru. You fuck me so goo–”

“Alright, enough!” you manage to kick him this time, laughing as you bring up your hands to cover your face. “Keep carrying on like that and I won’t let you fuck me…” You’re serious in your bite, but he’s smirking. Like he knows you’re full of bullshit. 

“Yeah right. You and I both know I make you feel too good.” 

Feeling bested, you scoff, though, there’s no real weight behind it. While he begins to remove his shirt, you sit up and replace his hands. He relinquishes control and allows you to unbutton it until the item falls haphazardly to the floor. 

He’s so beautiful, you think. Still so chiseled, so perfect after all these years since you’ve last seen him like this. At his most vulnerable. The only difference now is that there are more freckles littered across his skin. Back then, he’d say they were signs of aging, and he’d hate them. 

But he’s older now. More mature. So much so that he even winks at you when you trace your fingertips over them.

“They suit you,” you whisper. 

“Yeah?”

You nod your head, “mhm.” 

Continuing your ministrations, you begin removing his belt. He holds your gaze the entire time it takes for you to unzip his pants and pull them down–and he doesn’t once shy away when you discover the wet spot on the front of his briefs. Slowly, delicately, you remove the soiled item and let it fall down to the floor with the rest of his clothes. 

Still looking at him, you take hold of his length and fist him once, twice, experimentally. A dribble of pre oozes from his slit and you bring it to your mouth. All the air in his lungs expel into the air when you lick it off with your tongue, and god, he thinks he could come from that alone. 

God, he’s missed you. Missed your touch, your lips–the way you hold him with your eyes like he’s something worth being gentle with. Nothing could ever compare to you, not even his own hand. 

As soon as you’re about to take him in your mouth, he stops you. Pushes you back down onto the bed and slots himself between your legs. “No more playing, I’m tired of playing,” he breathes, lowering himself down until half of his weight is on top of you. 

Guiding his cock to your entrance, he pushes past your folds with little resistance. The feeling of your cunt squeezing him in has his arms wobbling like jelly, but he musters enough strength somehow to stay up. You, on the other hand, are close to tears. 

The more he eases himself in, the more you feel like you’re being stretched open (despite him previously prepping you). If you were being truthful, this wasn’t a complete shock to you. You’ve known that he’s always been big, but something about tonight feels different. Or maybe it’s just been too long since you’ve had something more than just your own fingers. 

Even so, you try your best to ignore the burn of the stretch. You throw your arms around his neck and invite him deeper into you, hooking your legs around him so tightly that it renders his limbs useless. For a minute, all you can feel is the weight of him inside of you, and his chest against yours as they rise and fall asynchronously. 

“Toru,” your voice is just barely above a whisper, but enough to make the hairs on the nape of his neck stand. “Make love to me.” 

Heeding your request, he begins moving. Painfully slow, he unsheathes himself from you until only the head of his cock is inside, then pushes himself all the way back in with force. Again, and again, he repeats this motion. Pulls out, pushes in. Pulls out, pushes in, until he decides to increase his pace and set a steady rhythm. 

Every thrust into you is meticulously calculated. Sharp, and forceful, and not once does he disrupt the rhythm. He listens carefully to the sounds you make. Even listens to the way your breath hitches when he hits a spot right. Everything he’s doing is perfect–and it’s to no surprise. Deep down, you know that Satoru knows your body like the back of his hand. He’d know it if you were all old and wrinkly. He’d know it if his soul reincarnated. Hell, he’d know it blind. 

“Missed this,” he grunts, burying his head into the interstice of your neck, “missed you,” a kiss to your neck, “missed us.” 

The veracity of his words render you speechless. He’s already professed his feelings for you tonight, but it feels even more real now that you’re beneath him. To be loved by Gojo Satoru was a feeling many couldn’t say they had the consolation of knowing. Only a few in his circle could hold that position–but only one person in this world could truly ever know his love to its fullest extent. You. 

Satoru continues his mindless rambling, “I love you,” a thrust, “it’s always been you,” another, “was always going to be you.” Leaning back on his heels, he pushes your dress all the way up to reveal your breasts. Now it’s him who sits back and admires this time. As if he were reacquainting himself, he traces the planes and pastures of your chest with an eager hand. He runs it up and over each mound, squeezing and kneading the flesh experimentally. 

Then, he dips down and kisses the space between them. Sucks and licks until the skin bruises, and he has evidence to prove tonight actually happened. Eventually, he withdraws from your chest and returns his focus on easing his cock in and out of your cunt. 

“So beautiful,” he says, but it’s more to himself than anything. You’re so lost in your own pleasure, he doesn’t even think you can hear him. “Want you to cum on my cock, know you can do it, baby. Know you can,” he grunts, taking your hand and intertwining it with his own. Letting his head fall into your neck, he begins to quicken his pace. Fucks into you with everything he’s got and willing to give. 

“Toru,” you finally manage to say, “‘m so close, keep going. Do it - do it inside.” 

Do it inside. Do it inside. Do it inside. The thought is tempting, too tempting. It makes his dick twitch inside of you, and he swears if you say it again, he’ll actually do it. But he knows better than to listen to anything you say out of delirium. 

“Trust me, sweet girl,” he cradles your face, to which you lean into, “I want to - I want to so fucking badly. But we both know you’d regret it later.” 

Whining, your lips form into a pout, and the sight is so cute, he can’t help but to kiss it off of you. Compared to your kiss earlier, this one is much sweeter. Slower. More relaxed. He kisses you with the intent of making you dizzier than you already are, and it’s scary. Even so, you don’t pull away. You allow him to drink you up. Like your lips are the only source of water around, and he’s been quenched for days. 

Finally, with a few more thrusts, you reach your climax. The pressure building in the pit of your belly pops like a balloon, and everything goes white. “Toru!” you shriek, arching off the bed and trembling in his grasp. 

Using your arch as leverage, he keeps his hands underneath your back and continues to ram into you without abandon. You’re a babbling, wet mess at this point, and your cunt squeezing around him only encourages him more. 

“Fuckfuckfuck, ‘m gonna - ‘m gonna,” he curses, balls beginning to tighten. Quickly, he unsheathes himself and fists himself the rest of the way. With an impassioned moan, he climaxes–spurting thick, white, ropes of seed all over your abdomen. Then, falls onto your limp body with a grunt, chest heaving rapidly, and slick with perspiration. 

By this time, you’ve settled down enough to form a proper sentence. “That was…”

Satoru huffs, catching his breath. “Yeah.” 

Still spent, he continues to lay atop you. And you, having nowhere else to go, let him. The two of you lay comfortably in silence like this for a long time. Just you tracing shapes into his back, and him purring into your neck. Both of you know you should be getting up, but neither of you make an effort to do so. In this moment, time is transcendent. There is no rush to move when time stands still for you. 

Soon, that silence is broken. 

“I love you,” you say, and there’s no elaboration. Not even a recant. In fact, you say it so nonchalantly, he’s not even sure it was real. You say it like you’ve never been more certain in your life, like it’s the easiest thing you’ve ever had to do. 

“Really?” he queries, almost pathetically like the mere idea of you loving him is something unattainable. You look at him like he’s got two heads. 

“Yeah, you’re my best friend. I’ve always loved you,” you admit, pausing your ministrations on his back, “I just had to relearn how to love you.” He smiles at this, hums into your neck to keep from crying. 

“I’m glad we found our way back to each other,” he mumbles into your neck, “so where do we go from here?”

“From here we take it slow. We’ll learn together what it means to be individuals, and then from there we’ll see where it goes,” you say matter-of-factly, “no more repeating past mistakes.”

“Agreed,” he nods, “what will we tell the girls?”

That’s when your eyes widen and you sit up, forcefully pushing Satoru off of you. 

“What did I say, what’s wrong?” he queries, sitting up on the bed. He watches you rummage around the room maniacally, head on a swivel as you run out of the room and return with a purse. You pull your phone out to see a slew of missed calls and messages. 

“We forgot to call the girls!” You yell, showing him your phone screen of missed calls. Gojo jumps up to join you, one leg already sliding into his pants. 

“Shit!” 

Noticing the state of your appearance, you pinch the skin between your brows. “Satoru, I can’t wear this! You got cum all over it,” you groan, pointing to all the splotches of white. He tells you to wait a second before disappearing into his closet, then he comes back with a fist of clothes and throws it at you. 

“I can’t wear this either, they’ll wonder why I’m wearing your clothes!” 

Satoru runs to you and pull the dress off of your body, “We’ll wash it!” he screams, disappearing again out of the room, and to where you imagine, the laundry room. When he returns, he’s out of breath and panting. It’s only then do you realize how insane he looks with half his shirt buttoned, and his pants twisted around his hips. A giggle escapes your lips.

“What are you laughing at? Chop chop,” he claps, ushering you into his bathroom. 

Yeah, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t miss this idiot.

comments + reblogs very appreciated !!!

© arachine 2023

[the-kriller]

I just realized I hate myself

[ghcstao3]

AU where ghost is a relatively famous voice actor—by name, anyway. he’s never shown his face in those ‘behind-the-scenes’ videos, doesn’t do red carpets for the bigger productions, always leaves the press junkets to his colleagues. he loves his job, don’t get him wrong, it’s fun and creative and he’s met some really great people, he just… has never wanted to be in the limelight. that’s not for him.

and it’s easy to get away with, because all of the voices he uses are not really his. there’s elements of him, sure, but nothing someone in person could necessarily place, unless they really listened close and were some kind of super fan. in real life, ghost is soft spoken, and maybe his voice is a little rough from the years before he learned how to properly take care of his vocal cords, but it’s still completely separate from all his characters. that was a rule he stuck with throughout his career—no using his real voice.

soap likes to consider himself a fan of simon riley.

(of his work, obviously. just his work. he definitely isn’t intrigued or anything by the mystery that is the voice actor. nuh uh. not at all.)

he’s seen just about every film and show that features one of the actor’s many voices, knows what little trivia is known of him, and, ultimately, he really respects the guy. his younger sister had finally landed herself a sizeable role in voice acting pretty recently after years of odds and ends, and soap knows how difficult it is to make it in the industry. so what if he may also have a little bit of a crush on the unknown man’s talent?

and so what if that little crush has presently brought him to a bookstore, because soap had heard simon would be voicing a character in some adaptation and soap wanted to get himself caught up? it’s fine. it’s normal. totally normal.

it’s in search of the book when soap accidentally stumbles into an absolute brick-wall of a man as he rounds the corner. soap mutters out apologies, goes to move past him, but then looks up and melts, just a little. because it’s then that soap discovers the prettiest set of brown eyes he thinks he’s ever seen. and when his gaze briefly flicks down—he sees that the man is holding the book he’d been looking for.

soap grins, does his best to look charming in spite of the fact that he’d just run into this poor, beautiful bastard. “was lookin’ for that one, too.”

the man’s brow furrows in confusion before he realizes what soap had been referring to. his eyes fall almost self-consciously to the book.

“oh, yeah. it’s a good book. gave my nephew my other copy, so i’m just…” the man lifts the book in some helpless gesture.

“hm.” soap nods. he can’t help but notice how soothing the man’s voice is, low and rough around the edges, but completely soft in the middle. “y’hear they’re making a movie?”

the man perks up, and for a moment soap wonders if that’s panic he sees flash in his eyes. he clears his throat. “yes, that’s actually why i’m, well. i owned it before, but because i’m doing the—because of the movie, i had to…” the man sighs, shoulders slumping. it’s endearing, the way he’s gotten so easily flustered, like he isn’t used to small talk. “never mind. i’ll let you… i hope you enjoy it. the book. and movie too, i guess.”

soap laughs, not unkindly. “the book, we’ll see. favourite actor’s in the movie, so i’ll probably like it either way.”

“yeah?” the man cocks his head, curious. “who’s that?”

unashamedly, soap replies, “simon riley.”

it’s not unnoticeable, the way the man’s face blossoms a faint pink before he coughs and ducks his head. “he’s, uh. heard he’s good,” he says. “so others say.”

for a moment, it looks like the man is preparing to bolt, so soap sticks out his hand as a last-minute resort to keep him around just a little longer. “i’m john. friends call me soap. long story, but if you maybe let me take you out for some coffee, i could tell you?”

apprehension lines the man’s posture, but he eventually tucks the book under one arm and shakes soap’s hand. “friends call me ghost. and i’d like that.”

ghost’s hand is warm, his grip firm. soap tries not to let himself linger in the touch.

“sounds like a date.” soap smiles up at ghost. “did you want to do that today, or…?”

ghost shakes his head. “can’t today. but i can give you my number?”

soap agrees, but as he reaches for his phone he’s met with an empty pocket and the realization that he’d left it on the counter at home. he sighs, feeling disheartened, readying an excuse when he gets an idea. “d’you have a pen?”

ghost does, in fact, have a pen, though soap supposes he could’ve just gone and bought one from the bookstore just as well. soap tells him to stay put a minute, goes to retrieve his own copy of the book, and comes back with it opened to the first page.

“i’m buying it, anyway,” soap says. and it’s commemorative, he doesn’t add, of the day and reason we met. because he’s hopeful this may actually go somewhere.

ghost writes his phone number inside, deliberately hands the book back to soap with the cover pressed closed by his thumb, and they head to the register together.

it’s only when soap gets home and finally goes to type ghost’s number into his phone that he sees, above the digits, a small simon :) inscribed on the paper.

[alllgator-blood]

I call this one "found family but it goes horribly wrong in an irreparable way" :)

I've been doing a lot of cotl comics but I kinda lost my comic making endurance after not working on art since last september, so I made this to help me flex my art muscles. Apologies for the watermarks lmao they kinda kill the mood but I've already had people repost my art when I put it on reddit so...might as well get the credit if my stuff is gonna be reposted regardless. RAMBLE INCOMING!!

Thinking about how shamura was most likely the one to find + raise their adopted siblings and help them survive the mass deicide that happened thousands of years before....OUUGH. I have so many ideas for comics that take place when half the bishops were still lil kids. I have one in progress right now actually. But it just hurts when I remember how it all ends- they loved their family for so long and yet they credit their love as what caused it to fall apart!!! The lore of the bishops only sunk in when I was dealing with my own heavy sibling angst, and I was like wow....shamura supported the sibs so much they accidentally encouraged their brother into being a heretic, and couldn't close pandora's box in time to save him or the rest of the family. They blame themself for the past 1,000 years and seem to be totally okay with dying for what they did?? Like when they get sent to the shadow realm they tell you to "finish the job" instead of leaving them in purgatory. And despite being the bishop of war, they are the only bishop to not have a "desperate" phase where their attacks get more brutal. They're not desperate, they just want to get it over with. All their other siblings are dead by then anyway so it's not like they have anything to stick around for, even if they were healthy enough to win the battle. Plus I mean...narinder is the bishop of death so they probably just want to see him one last time. Owch

Don't get me wrong I love to hate narinder and his only role in my cult is the guy who cleans the outhouse, but I really like his dynamic with shamura vs. the other siblings. I kinda see him as the troubled kid that couldn't assimilate into the family and shamura took it upon themself to try and fix him. It's interesting thinking about how they're the only one he shows remorse for despite feeling the most betrayed by them. I don't think he 100% hates them, he's just been locked in gay baby jail for so long he's had nothing better to think about than "my sibling encouraged me to experiment with my godly duties, and then punished me for it!!". He's not wrong? But also is shamura that wrong either??? Idk it's complicated with no real answer and I like it a lot, I wish the game told us more about what the bishops were like before they got their shit rocked during the schism. I would've loved to see shamura before their brain was turned to mush by their tbi + 1,000 years of suffocating grief and crushing guilt :)

ANYWAY thanks for making it to the bottom of this rant, here is a sketch I did a while ago of shamura + baby leshy from a prequel au thing I don't have a name for yet:

[tealvenetianmask]

A lot of the discourse on The Full Moon/Apology Tour has revolved around the pedestals that our boys put each other on. But I think the pedestal Stolas has Blitz on in particular often gets misunderstood.

I've seen a lot of takes that says that Stolas can't really love Blitz. He just loves the idea of Blitz . . . the one he's built up in his head based on romance novels and rom-coms and soap operas.

I think the reality is more complicated, and that even though, yes, Stolas idealizes Blitz, he also very much loves Blitz for his true self.

Let's look at some times when Stolas saw "the real Blitz," as his quirky, resilient, innovative, low-class self, and very much loved that person, and not just the knight in shining armor version of him.

The Circus.

Some have used this moment to say that Stolas idealized Blitz as a fantasy of what it must be like to be free.

And . . . yes. BUT ALSO. He only falls more in love (in a kid-crush kind of way) when he sees Blitz mess up on stage, get booed by the crowd, and make a joke that's clever but quite dark and niche. Creatively, to work his way through a difficult situation. There is SO MUCH in this short minute that reveals to us AND TO STOLAS who Blitz really is.

Seeing Stars

Oh boy. Let's make a list. I'm too tired to make this exhaustive, but in this episode, Stolas sees Blitz

Being careless in a way that puts Octavia in danger

Using an absolutely stupid costume to disguise himself

Getting terrible stage fright

Going way off script in the sitcom in (again) a way that's niche humor and does not appeal to most of the audience

LITERALLY HAVING A BREAK FROM REALITY AND SHOOTING UP THE TV STUDIO

Okay, so when Via is in danger, Stolas is unambiguously peeved by the mistake, but he forgives Blitz because Blitz puts in effort to find Via and make it right.

And in the rest of these instances, Stolas EITHER affirmatively likes the cringy and silly side of Blitz's personality:

Or without the slightest hesitation, when Blitz shows a real weakness, focuses not on disappointment that this man is not his perfect soap opera hero, but puts that aside and tries to help Blitz get out of trouble.

There's also this moment in Western Energy where Stolas is absolutely unbothered by Blitz's atrocious spelling and is genuinely just happy to think for a moment that Blitz cares. I feel like someone COULD twist this to be about Stolas having blinders on about what's right in front of him, but I don't think so. I think he's fine with Blitz not having all the same strengths that his society clearly values, and just wants to be loved back by this person who he has genuine feelings for.

So what doesn't Stolas know about Blitz before The Full Moon/Apology Tour? He doesn't know that Blitz hates himself. He doesn't know that Blitz pushes away people he cares about. He knows that Blitz has walls up but doesn't know why. You can fall for someone without knowing their deepest darkest hurts-- you can even love them. But you do need to know these things to have a deeper relationship with the person.

His focus on romantic media is a problem because it forms his expectations about relationships, not necessarily because it blinds him to who Blitz is. He wants to be rescued. He wants to be chased after. He doesn't understand that good relationships take a lot of work . . . and he'll need to learn that.

But he doesn't just love Blitz for these ideas. He loves Blitz for being Blitz.

This, like many of these essays, was inspired by a conversation with @akirathedramaqueen.

[keerysfreckles]

lay all your love on me — LN4

pairing: lando norris x piastri!reader

summary: the aftermath of y/n's worst date she's ever been on, lando comes to pick her up.

warnings: one curse word, not proofread

a/n: dedicated to kayla bae 🤭🤭 comment if i should make a part 2!!!

masterlist !

⋆ �� ｡ ⋆ ୨୧ ˚

y/n can't remember the last time she went on a decent date. in the past year she's been on five dates, none of them doing any justice.

two of them were too busy staring at her chest from the low neckline of her dress. one wouldn't stop talking about the football game plastered on the tv behind her at the sports bar he dragged her to. one didn't even show up.

and now, the fifth date, he isn't taking anything she says seriously.

she tried explaining how she's able to travel a lot due to her brother being a formula one driver, and the bloke just laughed in her face. claiming "girls can't be that into racecars".

y/n's never wanted to punch somebody as hard as she wanted to punch the man in front of her.

he then started talking about his own career, which lead y/n to talk about hers. however, to the man across from her, having a degree in communications does nothing to improve y/n's future.

this man was suffocating. every word he uttered just made y/n's blood boil.

it got to the point where y/n simply left. she left the man there, at the restaurant, with the most dumbfounded look displayed over his features.

she couldn't stand to be there another five minutes, so she simply left. no apology, no goodbye.

the chilly monaco air did not help her sour mood, in which she didn't bring a jacket with her. the walk to her apartment wasn't far, maybe twenty minutes.

the more and more the girl thought about her date, and the previous ones, she couldn't help but feel sorry for herself. the past five times she's gotten dressed up, and was excited to learn about someone new, she just left disappointed every time.

y/n didn't even know why she wore the heels she has on. she's never worn them, so she's praying she doesn't get blisters the next morning.

groaning, she pauses to take off her black heels. her shoulders slightly relaxing as the pain from her feet falls into the pavement with every step.

now y/n wasn't sure if the rumbles she heard behind her was thunder, or just the roaring of engines passing in the streets.

she pushed the thought off for now, and went back to thinking about her failed dates. she didn't think it was her fault, but maybe she was just unlovable. there was a chance it wasn't the people she dated, and that she was the one with the problem.

the over consuming thoughts had now gotten best of the girl. before she knew it tears were welling up at her bottom lashes. she didn't care about her makeup anymore, choosing to wipe at the tears now mixing with her mascara.

seconds barely pass, and it was final that the rumbles y/n heard earlier was thunder. meaning rain would shortly follow after. she groaned again, wanting to do anything but walk home in the rain.

she could easily turn around and wait the storm out in the restaurant, but she didn't want to face the man she left at the table again.

she then decided to call her brother.

however her plan quickly backfired once she remembered oscar and lily went out tonight, somewhere over an hour of where y/n is now. so calling oscar was out of the question. the phone didn't even let out a full ring before she hung up.

to make matters worse, y/n felt big drops of rain hit her shoulders.

there weren't many other options y/n could give into tonight. her close friends were all in france for god knows what, oscar was busy, and y/n just wanted to go home.

call her pathetic, but y/n couldn't help but cry. her night has only gotten worse, and she couldn't do anything about it.

after mere minutes, her hair was soaked from the now heavy pouring rain, she had no doubt her makeup was fully ruined, and she was sulking underneath a flickering lamppost.

she let out a dry chuckle after scrolling through her contacts once again, now seeing the only person left to call. the only person who'd answer her tonight.

on the third ring, he picked up.

"y/n? is everything okay?"

y/n hasn't gotten asked that in a long time. so she simply let out a choked sob. she tried answering, but her voice failed her again.

"lando," she managed to get out, only to have her cries over power her words.

he was quick to ask her what happened to make her this upset. to which he only got small answers in between more cries and jagged breaths. he knew he had to do something.

"can you tell me where you are?" he asked, while slipping his shoes on before running out of his apartment towards the parking garage.

he was glad to finally get a normal answer out of y/n, as he pulled out of his parking space with a loud screech of his tires. his windshield wipers did almost nothing to help him see in the rain, only making him driver faster, wanting nothing more than to get y/n in the warm and dry comfort of his car.

he drove carefully down the street address she gave him.

then he saw it. his heart broke at the sight in front of him.

y/n sitting on a bench, with her head in her hands. heels discarded by her feet, and her wet hair sticking to her back and shoulders.

her head picked up at the headlights of lando's car, and the sound of his driver door opening.

"god, y/n are you okay?"

lando kneeled down in front of her, placing his warm hands over her knees.

all y/n could do was lean forward into lando, wrapping her arms around him for some form of comfort.

lando couldn't care less if his shirt was getting wet, he could easily put on a new one once he got home. all he cared about right now was the girl in his arms.

he helped her get to the passenger side of the door, before jogging back to the bench to grab her heels. as he threw them into the backseat his eyes moved to an extra jacket. he was internally thanking his past self for leaving this inside.

y/n shivered out a thank you, for the hoodie and at his action of turning the heat on.

the ride back was silent. a comfortable silence, mostly because lando didn't want to pressure the girl into talking about exactly what happened tonight.

after lando turned left, y/n spoke up, "wait, lando you made the wrong turn. my apartment's that way."

she pointed out the window, but lando simply shrugged it off.

"y/n you haven't had the best night," he starts by pointing out the obvious, "so you can crash at my flat tonight, okay? we can watch as many rom-coms as your little heart desires. i know how much you love those."

y/n chuckles at his ending sentence, but can't agree with him more.

as soon as lando pulls into the parking garage, he helps y/n up the stairs to his apartment door. he successfully opens the door with one hand, as y/n's shoes are hanging over his fingers in the other.

he watched as y/n crossed her arms over herself once he shut the front door.

"do you want a hug?" he held out his arms with a small smile adorning his lips.

y/n walks closer to him, her barefeet hitting the hardwood with each step before she rests her head on his shoulder.

one thing y/n loves about lando's hugs is how secure they feel. his arms always end up wrapped tightly around her, and she swears she feels her bad mood leave her body whenever she's in his embrace.

after a few moments, lando speaks up, "do you want to change? i bet i have some clothes that'll fit you."

y/n nods before ridding her face of any tears. she then follows lando to his room. she sits on the edge of his bed, watching carefully as he grabs a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt.

"i'll be out in the living room. take your time," he speaks softly, kissing the top of her head before he leaves the room.

y/n finally lets out a sigh. a sigh filled with many different emotions. too many to count, so y/n distracts herself by changing into the much more comfortable clothes lando grabbed.

she tried running her fingers through her damp hair as she exited his room, but her hair became too tangled from the rain.

lando's small smile made it's way to his face once y/n came into the living room.

"you feeling any better?" he pats the spot beside him on the couch.

all y/n does is nod, but lando senses that something's still bothering her.

he brushes off the thought for now, as he and y/n search for a movie to watch.

after eight minutes of flicking through netflix, y/n breaks the silence.

"lan, do i seem unlovable to you?"

the question certainly caught the brit off gaurd. he took a moment to think about his response before answering, but no certain response would be the right one.

"woah, what makes you think that?"

y/n gets more quiet, becoming more self conscious of herself as she sits beside lando.

she shrugs before responding, "every date i've been on in the past year has gone wrong. i can't help but think if it's something i'm doing. that i'm the one with the problem, not all the guys i've seen."

lando's heart breaks at y/n's statement. how long has she been feeling this way about herself?

"you're not unlovable y/n. it's all those idiots that don't know what they're missing out on. you're one of the greatest people i know, and if any guy you date can't see that, he's not worth it."

lando wasn't sure where his small speech came from, but the look from y/n made his heart beat faster than it did before.

she looked at lando with nothing but adoration. a blush covered both of their cheeks now, and before y/n could really register anything her brain was processing she leaned over to quickly kiss lando.

yes, she was kissing her brother's best friend. yes, she was kissing lando after she had a horrible date.

was it a bad idea? probably. but y/n needed one thing to go right tonight. she could only pray this was the thing.

just as lando got used to the feeling of her lips against his, she pulled away.

she couldn't read the emotion on his face, making her start to ramble.

"i'm sorry. i'm so so sorry lan. i- i just needed one thing to go right tonight. and i thought maybe kissing you was the right thing to do. shit, i'm sorry. i can leave-"

y/n's sentence was cut off, now by lando pushing his lips against hers. his hand found it's way to the back of her neck, as hers balled up the material of his shirt to try and bring him closer to her.

their panted breaths mingled together as they were only centimeters away from each other. their eyes filled with adventure and lust, both wondering where this thing could lead to.

[pitchsidestories]

Picture You II Fridolina Rolfö x Engen!Reader

masterlist I word count: 2480

a/n: hi, we had this idea for quite a while now and finally got to writing it down, we hope you enjoy it.

Fridolina Rolfö had no explanation for why her relationships always failed.

Her boyfriend of two years had broken up with her out of nowhere and as much as she wanted to feel sad about it, there was some kind of apathy taking over her.

Coincidentally, her teammates had scheduled a team bonding event only a few days after she was dumped.

In hopes that it would ease her pain and appease the younger players, they decided on an ice cream party.

That was how Fridolina found herself sitting in front of a bowl of vanilla ice cream while her teammates uttered words of reassurance to her that she did not want to hear.

“Don’t worry, Frido. We’ll find you a man who’s worthy of you.“ Mapi grinned while pouring sprinkles on top of her chocolate ice cream.

Fridolina looked up at the defender: “Oh… uhm… thanks.“

“Men are so overrated though.“, Cata rolled her eyes.

“Can we change the topic?“, Fridolina asked carefully. She did not want to ruin the mood but she hoped to draw the attention away from herself.

Ingrid gave her a gentle smile, ready to help her friend out.

“My sister will start her job as a photographer for Barca tomorrow.“, she revealed, visibly proud.

Mapis face lit up with excitement: “That’s amazing, Ingrid.“

“Yes, and well deserved. Your sister is so talented.“, Fridolina agreed, relieved but also genuinely happy.

Ingrid beamed, flattered on her sisters behalf: “She will be so happy to hear that.“

Esmee served herself another portion of ice cream: “I’m excited to meet her.“

“You will love her.“, Ingrid promised.

“I’ve no doubt about that.“, Esmee laughed.

“And Mapi and I are making Frido a list for potential blind dates.“, Aitana announced.

Fridolina flinched at the mention.

As she looked over, her two teammates had already scribbled names on an empty sheet of paper.

“How do you even know so many people?“

Mapi shrugged nonchalantly: “We just do.“

“You need to slow down, girls. I’m not sure if I want to date any man right now…“, Frido stopped them.

Mapi and Aitana shared a surprised look.

“Oh, sorry. We only wanted the best for you, Frido. That’s all.“, Aitana apologized.

The Swedish football player nodded: “I know. But maybe I just need break for now.“

Ingrid put a hand on her friends forearm and said softly: “That’s okay, we understand it. You two had been together for quite a while.“

“Yes, but it hasn’t felt right anymore for a long time.“, the blonde admitted.

Alexia shrugged, eating fruit out of her ice cream bowl: “It happens. Sometimes you just fall out of love with someone and you can’t do anything about it.“

The words of her captain resonated deeply with Fridolina who enjoyed the evening more than before now.

“Ingrid, let me breathe.”, you chuckled. It was your first workday for Barcelona as their new photographer, but your sister prevented you from taking photos as she embraced you in a long hug.

“No.”, she shook her head, clearly not ready to let you go yet.

“Please? Hi, everyone.”, you waved politely with your free hand at the players who slowly arrived at the training grounds.

“Hi.”, Mapi grinned.

“Good to see you, Mapi.”, you replied truthfully, relieved to see some familiar faces.

“So happy you got the job.”, the Spanish defender told you thrilled.

“Me too. Also, hey, Caro and Frido!”, you added delighted to see the Scandinavian players.

“Finally, another Norwegian.”, Caroline winked at you.

“Ignore her. Sweden is so much better.”, Fridolina teased her teammate, but swallowed hard at the sight of you, you were even more beautiful than she remembered. Instead, the blonde tried to play down the excitement she felt while looking at you and hugged you casually.

“We won’t discuss this right now.”, Ingrid decided laughing.

“No, but I’m sure you can show me all the great places in the city.”, you glanced at the footballers you knew since your sister played along side them in Wolfsburg.

“That’s more Frido’s thing. She can help you with that and I can teach you the language.”, Caroline declared.

“That’s my sister. Why can’t I show her around and teach her?”, your sibling wanted to know pouting playfully.

Looking between them, Marta announced:” I’m sure you girls will find a way.”

And they did, you easily felt at home in Barcelona with the help of your sister and her friends. It was different to when you visited Ingrid with your family in the past. Step by step you fell in love with the city and its inhabitants.

A few weeks in and you were doing a photo shooting outside with Fridolina for the summer Barca merchandise. The late afternoon sun made her hair and skin appear golden and you had to pause your preparations to remark:” The outfit looks great on you, Frido.”  

“Oh, thank you.”, she beamed at you, making these sporty clothes look effortlessly elegant and timeless.

“It’s true.”, you smiled back while taking a few test shoots to see how well the light, her profile worked together.

“Can I ask you something? When did you start taking photos?”, Fridolina asked you curiously.

Hearing her questions made your smile grew even brighter. “A long time ago. I was like 15 or 16. when I got into it.”, you remembered fondly at the memory.

 “I guess Ingrid and your brother were the test models.”, the Swedish player thought out loud.

“Yes, she was the reason why I became interested in taking sports related pictures.”, you admitted.

Fridolina laughed lightly: “Did she bully you into taking photos of her while playing?“

“No, I saw that they never had any photos of their games so I started doing it. The first ones turned out awful.“, you grinned as you thought back.

The Blonde shrugged: “Isn’t it always like that? The first times I played football, I wasn’t great at it either.“

“You’re right. But taking photos of you is so easy, you’re a natural.“, you replied while you pressed the shutter a few times.

She even looked beautiful doing casual small talk.

But you realized that the collar of her jacket was upturned.

You put your camera down and come closer to fix it for her. After all, the goal was to present the retro looking Barcelona jacket.

Fridolina smiled gratefully at you: “I mean I’ve already done this a few times. But I don’t think I’ve ever felt as comfortable as I do right now.“

You bit your lip to keep yourself from grinning too wide about that compliment.

“Frido, you’re beautiful inside and outside.“, you said without taking your eyes off of her.

Her cheeks slightly blushed: “That’s so sweet of you.“

“Want to change into the second outfit?“, you suggested, giving both of you a break to focus back on the task at hand.

“Sure.“, the Swede said and disappeared into the changing room.

You took a deep breath, grounding yourself again while you waited.

Fridolina emerged in light blue jeans and a slightly oversized shirt in their signature colours that said Barca across the chest.

You shook your head in awe. This woman could literally wear anything.

“Oh, I love that outfit even more.“, you complimented her.

She looked down at herself: “You do?“

“Yes.“, you said while taking a few photos of her.

“I think it would look cute on you too.“, Frido smirked.

“Do you think so?“

You barely finished your question when you noticed that she was already in the motion of pulling the shirt over her head.

“What are you doing?“, you asked laughing.

The football player just handed you the garment: “Here.“

Stunned, you looked at it and the back to Fridolina standing there in her underwear: “Uhm thanks?“

She rolled her eyes with a smile: “No, put it on.“

“Fine.“, you gave in and did as you were told before adding: “But it’s definitely not warm enough for you to just stand there in your sports bra.“

“I guess I should get dressed again.“, she laughed.

You returned the shirt to your model: “Here are your clothes. Hey, that’s my camera.“

You had failed to realize that she had taken your camera and was now taking photos of you with a big grin on her face.

You usually hated being photographed but Fridolina looked too happy so you bit back any comment.

“I’m not leaving without taking a photo of you too.“

“I guess that’s fair even though I’m not as pretty as Ingrid.”, you turned your gaze away from the Swedish woman and looked at the fresh cut grass instead.

“What? Who says? The beauty obviously runs in the family.”, she disagreed.

“Well, my ex-girlfriend said that.”, you shrugged.

“She was a liar then. You’re gorgeous.”, Fridolina observed.

“That means a lot coming from such a stunning woman herself.”, you confessed smiling timidly. For a moment you paused before asking her:” Do you want to see the pictures I made right now or tomorrow?”

“Aw, thank you. Can I see them now?”, curiously she handed you your camera back, where you started to go through the photos you took of her.

“Of course.”, you nodded politely.

 Being this close to you made the blondes heart flutter.

“They’re so nice, y/n.”, Fridolina muttered, suddenly breathlessly.

“Glad you like them. So, I’ll see you before the game tomorrow?”, you changed the topic lightly.

“Sure.”, she beamed at you.

“Goodbye, Frido.”, you responded warmly.

“See you soon, y/n.”, the footballer replied, eagerly anticipating your reunion.

On the next day, you didn’t find the time to catch up with her as you were busy taking the pictures of the arriving players in their pretty matchday outfits. All of them arrived in style.

During the game you were not mesmerized by their beauty but by their beautiful game which you tried to capture with your camera. This was why you wanted to be here, you thought, to watch the best team in Europe thrive in front of your lens. Somehow the Swede always managed to get your attention as you would notice later while seeing through the photos.

When the referee blew the final whistle, Fridolina run to you to pull you into a hug, while you whispered into your ear:” Frido you had an amazing game.”

“Thanks”, she hummed, while her blue eyes sparkled with excitement.

“Well played.”, you couldn’t help but to rave about her performance.

“Appreciate it.”, the fellow Scandinavian mumbled.

“But I got to go around now to take some more shots.”, you explained winking, as you stepped away from her hug. Which had to be completely friendly and nothing more, right? Because she was 100 % straight. Nothing seemed gay about her. Still some signals your sister’s best friend send were quite confusing.

“Y/n, wait!”, Fridolina yelled your name nervously, attempting to hold you back.

“What?”, you turned your head confused.

“Frido, there you’re. My friend wants to meet you.”, Mapi grinned at her taller teammate, nodding into a direction of a very handsome man waiting in the stands, the sight of him, making your stomach turn. He and her would be a pretty couple.

To your surprise, Fridolinas gaze remained fixed on you.

Reluctantly she turned to Mapi, deliberately ignoring the man.

“Mapi, I’m sorry but I’m not interested. I was about to ask y/n to go on a date with me.“, she apologized but her voice was firm and determined.

“What?!“, you and Mapi gasped at the same time, looking at each other in confusion.

Fridolina remained unimpressed: “Uhm yes. I’m actually not straight. You all just assume that because I date men too.“

After a moment of silence, Mapi started to grin like she only now understood the joke that you failed to get: “No, you always dated men since we know you.“

“That still doesn’t make me straight.“, Fridolina replied matter-of-factly.

You would be impressed by her attitude, if you were any less confused.

Mapi had stopped smiling and watched her teammate attentively.

“That’s right.“, you agreed slowly.

The Swede turned back to you: “So… would you go out with me?“

You nodded: “I’d.“

“Really?“, Fridolina asked again.

This time, your face finally reflected your excitement. You smiled: “Yes.“

You both just beamed at each other.

“Ingrid! You won’t believe it!“, Mapi bounced up and down as she called for your sister.

Ingrid joined the three of you: “Believe what?“

“Frido asked your sister out!“, Mapi yelled.

You cringed slightly, hearing it out loud and refused to look at Ingrid.

“What do you mean Frido asked her out? Like on a date?“, your sister asked. Her perfect eyebrows knotted together.

Mapi nodded enthusiastically: “Yes, exactly that.“

“That’s so cute.“

“Oh my god, Frido. You’re full of surprises!“, Ona interrupted, patting the blonde football player on the shoulder and you silently wondered who else had overheard your conversation.

Fridolina raised her eyebrows: “Am I? Or did you just never ask?“

“You’re right. We never asked. We just assumed you were straight. Sorry.“, Ona admitted but she looked less sorry and more happy for her teammate.

You thought their reactions were kind of adorable.

“It’s fine. I just didn’t think I owed you an explanation.“, Fridolina replied politely.

You could not help yourself. You gently took her hand in yours and squeezed it once. There was no way you could contain your admiration for her.

“You didn’t need to.“, you said softly.

Her attention shifted back to you. “The fact that I dated men before you doesn’t change my feelings for you, I hope you know that.“

“During that photoshoot I felt it. But I thought you might just be nice. Now I know I was wrong.“, you chuckled.

Fridolina visibly bit back a smile: “Sorry. I was hoping I’d send the right signals.“

“You did! I was just blind and - … “

You were unable to finish your sentence. Fridolinas soft lips pressed against yours all of a sudden, right there on the field in front of everyone.

“Maybe this was clearer?”, she asked in a hopeful tone.

“Yes, it was.”, you nodded smiling.

In the background you heard your sister telling her girlfriend” Okay, Mapi, I think I need a bit of time to get used to my best friend kissing my sister.”

“You better should hurry up. They’re hitting it off right away.”, the Spaniard punched her playfully in the side, wearing an amused grin on her lips while watching you being showered with kisses by the Swede.

“I see that.”, Ingrid laughed. She knew it would be weird at first, but seeing her favourite people being happy with each other warmed her heart.

For once you didn’t have your camera to capture the moment but the picture of the first kiss with Fridolina after the match would be forever engraved inside your brain.

[heartsforvin]

ONLINE LOVE

thank you nonnie for the request !! i hope you like it (:

pairing: gamer!vinnie hacker x fem!reader

warnings: cussing, sexual jokes / innuendos, pure fluff

summary: when vinnie goes on omegle one random night out of boredom, he doesn’t expect to meet you and fall in love in the process

with nothing to do on a friday night, vinnie decided to go on omegele. he hadn't been on the site in years, and honestly thought it had gotten banned.

tagging it with a few trendy things, vinnie fixed up his appearance just a bit before clicking on the video option.

of course he knew he wasn't going to get lucky with someone not showing their junk right away, so he wasn't disappointed when he saw some random guy's dick.

after a few skips and boring people, he finally got to you. "holy shit." he thought he said that in his head, but when you looked up, he knew he didn't.

with a furrow to your eyebrows, you give him a small smile as you say hello.

vinnie can't help but give himself a few extra minutes to stare, you were just so pretty. after a minute, he clears his throat and smiles.

"i'm sorry," he apologizes with a laugh. "just didn't expect to see such a pretty girl."

blushing, you thank him with a smile of your own. "you're not so bad yourself." you reply.

vinnie chuckles as he thanks you like you did him. overtime, the two of you ask each other questions about the other, along with interests.

"you play any video games?" he asks you, and you smile with a shake to your head.

it was honestly kind of hard to focus on conversation with him. the first thing you had noticed when he popped up on your screen was his eyes.

vinnie notices you staring at him and smirks. "am i really that nice to look at?" he chuckles.

you rid your thoughts quickly, almost being embarrassed that he caught you. you wouldn't have the confidence to admit it, but he was good to look at.

smiling, you quickly divert the conversation to his previous question. "not much of a gamer really, unless you count the sims." you say.

vinnie laughs and shakes his head. "nah i'm talkin' real games." he tells you.

rolling your eyes playfully, you give him a scoff. "oh so you're one of those people." you say with a laugh.

when vinnie heard you laugh he swore his heart skipped a beat, and not even to be dramatic. he watched as you went on and on about how the sims was real gaming.

he saw your smile and knew that's something he wanted to see more of. "woah hey, calm down." vinnie laughs as he cuts you off.

you smile, pushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "what? sims is real gaming, you nerd." you tell him.

vinnie takes in your appearance again and the clothes you're wearing. he can't get enough of you and he just met you.

you do the same, looking at him through the laptop screen, faint blush spreads across your cheeks.

vinnie stands up and the breath is almost knocked out of you when he does. he's wearing sweatpants and a white tank top, muscles on full display.

"you lookin' at my arms or...?" vinnie asks with a chuckle as he sees you staring. "because i can give you soethin' to look at."

laughing, you roll your eyes at him again. "definitely don't want to see that. i've seen too many."

vinnie chuckles and nods his head, completely understanding. although, it doesn't stop him from making a comment.

"you sure? because i do have a tattoo there, but if you don't want see i guess you'll never know." he shrugs.

you wish you were near him so you could hit his arm, instead, you result in a playful scoff and sarcastic reply. "you do not have a tattoo there."

the blonde laughs but shrugs again. "how'd you know if you've never seen it?"

this time, its your turn to shrug. "guess i'll just have to take your word for it." you tell him.

the playful banter continues for about another hour. neither you or vinnie thought you'd actually meet a decent person on this site tonight, but you're both happy you did.

"okay," you say, getting vinnie's attention back onto you and not his phone. "other than gaming, what do you do?"

vinnie stifles a laugh at the question, knowing his answer. "i stream." he tells you.

you already know his answer to your next question so he beats you to it by saying, "yes, i do stream video games."

you can't help but smile. "nerd." you comment with a laugh.

vinnie fires back. "you don't even play real video games, don't even give me that kind of attitude." he says with a laugh.

you brush him off with a scoff. that brought your attention back to the sims games and how you now suddenly got an idea.

"hey vinnie," you get his attention again and he looks up at you. "what if i told you i'm about to make you and me in sims?"

you were half joking, although you did think about the idea of it. vinnie furrows his eyebrows but has a smile on his face.

"that's cute, you should." he tells you, making you smile.

you nod, telling him you'll do it after you get done talking. the two of you talk more for a bit, jokes are made, smiles are shared along with laughs, and vinnie did make one or two comments about you blushing.

in all honesty, he was doing the same thing an you probably could notice. he couldn't help himself, he was starting to think he was falling a bit in love with you.

he did think it was way too soon to tell and you two had known each other for no longer than four hours.

silence fills you two for a minute before vinnie interrupts the silence with what you'd say is a crazy statement.

"you know what you could do if we ever do meet and possibly have a thing going?" he asks, and you don't reply right away, taking his words in.

you didn't want to rush anything at all, but the chemistry between the two of you was very noticeable. so, you raise your eyebrow as you wait for him to tell you.

he smirks, anf you instantly know its another one of his dirty jokes. "never had support from under the desk before."

the minute that sentence leaves his mouth your laughing loudly, quickly trying to stop yourself.

you give him that same look back, smirk turning into a smile as you tease him and tell him maybe one day it'll happen.

you both talk for a bit longer until the two of you decide to call it a night. before yo go, vinnie asks you for your number and you happily give it to him.

he was definitely falling in love with you now if he wasn't already.

thank you nonnie for the request again !! i hope you liked it + everyone else reading this (:

comments, reblogs + feedback of any kind is appreciated <33

tags: @sturnioloshacker , @anqeliclust , @cosmicanakin , @42angelgirl , @leqonsluv3r , @khackerr , @louloulemons-blog , @visualbutterflysworld , @bernelflo , @slvthrs , @0strawberrysorbet0 , @supabhad , @kriissy4gov , @kayleighh , @hallecarey1 , @laylasbunbunny , @defnotayonna , @khxna , @jpg3 , @skye-44 , @eddieslut69 , @thesebitcheslovesosadotcom , @miilzzy

[whaledenwtf]

Hello! This might be a weird request but what about Gale, Halsin and Astarion with a s/o who's super cute and friendly and overall just a gigantic sweetheart who also happens to canonically be horrifyingly powerful. Like potentially even more destructive than Gale and the orb. Enemies who know their lore turn and run just at the mention of them and their name strikes fear into many hearts but then the camera pans over and it's this short sweetheart of a person. Literally this post basically

Thank you so so much, I really love your writing! Also Happy Holidays sweetie! ☺️

I love this idea!! I made it headcannons so it wasn't too long to read! REQUESTS ARE OPEN!! Please ask more, I love writing things for people <3

REQUEST HERE

Headcannons: Astarion, Gale and Halsin with a super cute friendly S/O who's horrifyingly powerful

Warnings: None, this is just indulgent FLUFF, Minor Spoilers for Act 1 and for Gale and Astarion's Lore

Astarion

You were always sweet with Astarion, and only made him feel comfortable and safe.

After he told you he was a vampire, you accepted him despite everyone else telling you not to!

When you told him you could beat Cazador, he didn't believe you at first because of your sweet nature.

The first time he realized you were a legend was when you guys raided the Goblin Camp to save Halsin.

You initially told everyone your name was Tav, so nobody really knew who you were.

Every Goblin met their end with a swing of your weapon, gutting them before they blinked.

It scared your companions, honestly.

When you got to Minthara, you told her your name was (Y/N), and she backed away from you.

Astarion was confused until Karlach, Wyll and Lae'zel spoke of your legendary moniker.

Wyll may be known as the "Blade of Frontiers" but you were known as "The Walking Death" and that was thrilling for Astarion.

Every monster, creature and being met their demise when face to face with you.

Astarion was a slave for 200 years, only knowing the bare minimum from Cazador. But knowing you were on his side, and under his thumb, that thrilled him!

Once you apologized about lying to your companions, they all welcomed you in their arms, especially Astarion.

As he slowly falls in love with you, he realizes that he likes knowing his significant other is not only powerful and showed no mercy, but showed him life through another lens.

You show him that love doesn't make someone weak, but stronger.

You're powerful, and having you by his side makes him feel unstoppable as well.

He is very grateful for you. You will pull him from Cazador's clutches and stay with him through it.

Despite your sweet nature, you kicked ass. You saved everyone you could, which annoyed Astarion. But he loved you despite it, and always will.

After all, why would he run away from the first good thing to happen to him?

Gale

He was also confused about who you were right away. As a scholar he spent most of his time in books, rather than the battlefield.

Honestly, his mind was distracted between the Netherese Orb in his chest and Mystra.

When you pulled him out of the portal, he was struck by your kindness.

Then he was struck by your beauty when you fought valiantly for your companions.

He was excited seeing someone so powerful near him, and honestly fell harder.

After telling you what Mystra did, you told him you'd kill her.

He laughed you off, until he saw what you could do.

Now he's worried he won't have a goddess to worship.

Your battle prowess is astounding, and he can't help but admire you as you shout commands to your companions.

You always were gentle with Gale, soft touches and sweet nothings between you two.

He always finds it difficult to associate you with your title.

"The Slayer of Man and Beast" he's heard Lae'zel and Shadowheart call you.

You always chuckle and tell them "soon you'll have to add gods to that"

Now he's even more worried about his goddess

Over time, he considers you his goddess. After all, you've protected and respected him much more than Mystra ever had.

When he tells you about the Netherese Orb, you shrug him off.

"Nothing will keep me from you, not even a bomb."

Wow

When you two are alone, he caresses your muscles and your hands. He's in love with the idea of his significant other being this battle-worn individual set to protect him

Throughout your adventure, you remind him that you would protect him with your life.

"All for little old me?"

"Nobody will stop me from protecting you. No monster or goddess."

Man you really hate Mystra for hurting Gale so bad.

You dream about smiting her and protecting Gale in your arms.

While adventuring, you always keep Gale by your side. Everyone teases you for it until you shoot them a warning glance.

You're so so good to him. You take hits for him, heal him in battle, and heal him in the privacy of his tent.

"You're too good to me." He muttered once, eyes closed.

"You've never been treated right. It's my personal duty to make sure you never doubt yourself ever again." You replied, kissing his eyelids.

He just fell harder.

Halsin

He actually knew who you were before you saved him.

When you said your name, he bowed his head in respect.

"An honour to put a face to the name" He said to you.

You told him you loved how big and safe he was.

"You're the one who would keep me safe, little one."

He wasn't wrong. You've saved him multiple times throughout your adventure.

You were very sweet with Halsin, always leaning against his arms and closing your eyes when you sit together in camp.

He found it amusing, seeing such a feared individual be so innocent and kind with him.

In his 350 years of existence, he's never been so captivated by someone like you.

When he tasked you with eradicating the Goblin Camp, he enjoyed seeing the fear in Minthara's eyes when you said your name.

Despite being a druid, he knew that with life also came death. He accepted your past.

He found the juxtaposition of your personality endearing.

One day, he was in wildshape lounging around as a bear. You laid on him and spoke about different topics regarding your life.

In that same day, he saw you obliterate 20 goblins on your own.

He never thought he'd be aroused by someone killing goblins, but you did that.

You also knew all the spots to scratch when he was a bear??

Yes that's the spot. Right behind his ears.

He liked seeing the way you treat your companions with such kindness.

You showed respect and compassion to those who you find deserve it. You helped people find safety, and feel safe.

It was beautiful, the way you showed such love to those who were close to you.

He always compared you to the ocean.

"Why the ocean?" You asked him once.

"You can be calm, bring peace. But you are also wild, strong in the most beautiful way." He replied.

He enjoyed the way you blushed.

One time, you asked him to wildshape and you rode him into battle. Nothing is scarier than seeing (Y/N) "The Tempest" riding onto a bear.

Even your companions were scared

Ever since then, you always did it. It was like couple bonding, somehow??

Gods, he loves his little tempest

Hope this is as enjoyable for you guys to read as it was for me to write!!

[grison-in-space]

Listening to Artificial Condition again, it strikes me how much Murderbot uses empathy reflexively as a survival skill. Look at this bit.

Upon meeting it, ART allows it on board and then announces that it knows that Murderbot is rogue. Then ART threatens to destroy it if it hacks ART's own systems. Murderbot is immediately terrified and shuts down all inputs, gives serious thought to spending the entire three month journey unconscious, and then considers the potential avenues of damage from ART's drones. ART, not realizing why Murderbot had suddenly gone silent, tells it to quit sulking, which understandably pisses off the still-terrified Murderbot. It dumps a bunch of memories of coercive treatment into ART's feed, and ART goes silent.

Then this happens:

Then it said, I’m sorry I frightened you. Okay, well. If you think I trusted that apology, you don’t know Murderbot. Most likely it was playing a game with me. I said, “I don’t want anything from you. I just want to ride to your next destination.” I’d explained that earlier, before it opened the hatch for me, but it was worth repeating. I felt it withdraw back behind its wall. I waited, and let my circulatory system purge the fear-generated chemicals. More time crawled by, and I started to get bored. Sitting here like this was too much like waiting in a cubicle after I’d been activated, waiting for the new clients to take delivery, for the next boring contract. If it was going to destroy me, at least I could get some media in before that happened. I started the new show again, but I was still too upset to enjoy it, so I stopped it and started rewatching an old episode of Rise and Fall of Sanctuary Moon. After three episodes, I was calmer and reluctantly beginning to see the transport’s perspective. A SecUnit could cause it a lot of internal damage if it wasn’t careful, and rogue SecUnits were not exactly known for lying low and avoiding trouble. I hadn’t hurt the last transport I had taken a ride on, but it didn’t know that. I didn’t understand why it had let me aboard, if it really didn’t want to hurt me. I wouldn’t have trusted me, if I was a transport. Maybe it was like me, and it had taken an opportunity because it was there, not because it knew what it wanted.

The thing about Murderbot's survival is that it clearly involves quite a bit of negotiating with other constructs and bots. That's how it talks its way onto cargo hauler bots in the first place. It uses empathy--envisioning the emotional and cognitive context of the individuals it encounters--to work out what different kinds of people want, so that it can offer them fair trades. It also uses empathy to consider what humans might be looking for, so it can practice blending in and hide.

Murderbot would never have survived so long if it wasn't capable of assessing the individual desires of the people--human, bot, and construct--around it. It thinks about ART's probable fears and motivations so that it can consider whether ART is inherently an ongoing threat or a potential ally.

When your survival depends on evading detection, you get really good at assessing perceptual biases so that you can shape yourself to fit into them. People talk about murderbot being radically empathetic as a choice it makes, or as a feature of its personality that makes it a good person. But I think murderbot would be the the first person to tell you that this empathy is part of its threat assessment suite, a skill that was developed out of necessity in order to allow you to survive.

It is also a trait that makes murderbot a good person, of course: it chooses very carefully to try to survive by doing as little harm as possible and by offering things, like media, that buy it access to things it needs. But it started as a survival skill. It's part of hypervigilance.

I think one of the strengths of this series is that so many of the things we love about SecUnit are traits developed for survival in an inherently threatening world. The shape of its mind and heart have been changed by the trauma of its origin--but they don't make murderbot less good for being altered, even if that skill was developed in a traumatic context.

I like that.

[kauuni]

𓇼 ᅠׅ ᅠ ݁ 𓂃 I WISH YOU ROSES — rafe cameron . . !

female! reader. black reader in mind n’ most canons are black reader coded. fluff &&. smut! mdni pls. different rafe’s like friends w benefits! rafe, mean/soft! rafe, love-sick! best friend! rafe, perv! rafe. . . might add more as i think of them.

꣖ surprise! was gonna do a drabble or sum but i just can’t bring myself to do it sooooo brain rots instead ꣓

soft! boyfriend! rafe who lets his girl kiss his face all over, getting lipgloss all over his face, no matter where he’s heading to.

rafe cameron buys you a necklace with his initial on it to ask if he can be your boyfriend.

soft! biker boyfriend! rafe who lets his girlfriend put flower stickers on his bike helmet cause she wants to.

soft! boyfriend! rafe who loves looking at your pussy. after you’ve creamed on his dick, the pink of your pussy coated with a white cast that makes your brown lips appear shiny.

perv! boyfriend! rafe adores how small your clothes get as it get hotter. the shorts and small skirts without panties getting him a good show throughout the day.

boyfriend! rafe adores the curve of your ass. always putting his hand into the back pocket of your short shorts when walking with you or kissing you, getting a hand full of it then.

soft! boyfriend! rafe gets obsessed with anything your obsessed with. but, he acts like he isn’t HARD but will always sit down and watch your favorite tv show all day. most of his days really revolve around you so it’s kinda hard not to.

boyfriend! rafe who takes a hand full of your ass and hits it every time you walk away from him.

perv! boyfriend! rafe who watches you change all the time, without shame. eyes glue to your ass as he tries his best to get a glimpse of your pussy when your putting on a swimsuit.

boyfriend! rafe who, when introducing you to someone, will always put “my girl” before your name.

fwb! rafe w feelings for you who’s little sister notices his feelings for you and he has to confess to her about it so she stops threatening to tell you.

fwb! rafe w feelings for you who will scare off every dude you will ever try to date. so much, that now if you try to talk to anyone they’ll be like “your rafe’s girl, right?”

fwb! rafe w feelings for you who has been yelled at many times (like a child) by you for going around telling people that your his. but, he continues to shrug it off and tell you it’s not that big of a deal.

fwb! rafe w feelings for you who gets you to stay so he can really apologize by promising to never do it again. although he promises, he continues to pound you into his mattress while telling you how your his and how much he needs you.

boyfriend! rafe who loves the attitude you give him. always just sitting and listening as you yell at him about whatever. when you notice he's just staring, you instantly get angry and try to walk off, saying he’s not listening but he swears he is. ( he definitely wasn’t, he was too busy watching your lips and thinking about you sucking him off )

boyfriend! rafe who lets his brain go to complete mush once feeling your nails on his scalp.

boyfriend! rafe who finds that’s the only way he can really fall asleep.

boyfriend! rafe who flashes the gun that sit in his waistband at any guy who tries to talk to you. any guy. whether it’s someone trying to talk you up at a party or a waitress that smiled a little too hard.

fwb! rafe w feelings for you who is so frequent with asking to films the two of you fucking that you finally cave. and, he doesn’t let the opportunity go to waste either. him filming everything from you sucking his dick to him coming on your brown skin.

perv! boyfriend! rafe who rubs himself a little when seeing you bend over in your small bikini’s and gets a peek of your pussy. “jesus christ,” he says, sucking in air through his teeth before landing a hand right on your ass.

love-sick! best friend! rafe who hates when you introduce him as your best friend to other guys, even though that’s what he is to you. he just wishes he could get a chance with you.

love-sick! best friend! rafe who’s face when watching you talk to another dude is so intimidating that they practically run away from you. so intimidating that you have to tell him to smile or at least not sit and stare.

boyfriend! rafe who knows what you like and always picks the best clothes that compliment your skin.

fwb! rafe w feelings for you who leaves things at your house to have an excuse to come and see if any other guy has been there.

boyfriend! rafe who’s the #1 pantie stealer without shame. even has a favorite pair.

“rafe, put ‘em back!” you would groan at him, watching as he picks them from the floor. “why?” he grins, continuing to stuff them in his pants that are unzipped. “they’re seamless, i need those for next week, for the party.” he nods as if he cares, even turns up his lip playfully before kissing you and leaving with them.

fwb! rafe w feelings for you who’s favorite thing to do is finger you. your back against his chest as he watches your chest cave into its self, moans falling recklessly from your lips while the rest of your friends are downstairs. him loving the fact that they can probably hear you, but he’s the only one that gets to see you take his finger deep inside.

boyfriend! rafe who loves coming inside of you. not only because he loves feeling you gush onto him while he fills you up but the way your pussy looks with cum dripping out of it. especially because of the extra contrast between your brown lips and his white cum.

mean! boyfriend! rafe who doesn’t mind not giving you what you want. with holding his dick from you all day even when you beg for you. so when he finally has you all you can do is whine and beg.

fwb! rafe w feelings for you doesn’t believe in him getting a girlfriend if it isn’t you. has tried many times to get one, but can’t seem to replace you.

boyfriend! rafe gives an annoyed look to any girl who smiles too hard at him.

mean-ish! boyfriend! rafe who, when you have on a bathing suit or anything slightly thin, will grab the string of your underwear or bottoms and pop them against your skin.

perv! boyfriend! rafe who asks you to lean down to get something for him 90% of the time so he can see the outline of your pussy.

fwb! rafe who once said that you couldn’t last more than a month without his dick, so you took it as a challenge and did. for more than 2 months actually. he, of course, couldn’t handle the pressure and ended up taking his last couple months of frustration out on you.

soft! boyfriend! rafe who definitely kisses your ankles when he’s deep inside, mumbling praises off his lips.

boyfriend! rafe who has laid you across his legs and done a lines of coke on your ass. almost as a party trick at a party.

fwb! rafe w feelings for you who daydreams about coming inside of you but never brings it up. since he can’t replace you, he always just fists his dick to the thought when you can’t make it.

ꪆ ݁ ᳝  2024 starher . . . ( pinned )

[ivybucky]

lightning in a bottle - logan howlett x reader

mutant!reader nearly harms the team in a moment of panic and feels unable to deal with the aftermath, but logan is there to bring you back in more ways than one

a/n: i have so many ideas besties... currently have a list of 5 fic ideas and this is the first one I was able to flush out. here's some angst with happy ending for ya (no smut)

content: angst with happy ending, lots of electricity(literally), mentions of torture and screaming, mentions of mutant experimentation, implications of shitty birth family, confession of feelings, reader crying, sad reader, angry/sad logan

words: 2329

~~~~~

All you could think about was the lightning. 

You remember walking into the room, where the footage of your torture was displaying blatantly across the TV news cycle, the team sitting there and watching with rapt attention. “Mutant Experimentation Footage Leaked” scrolled across the screen. You remember the static tingling in your fingertips as you recognized what you were watching. Your own cries echoed from the speakers as footage of Stryker’s experimentation on you from a month prior when you had been captured is played to the nation. 

“Turn it off,” you had said quietly, pleadingly. The team’s gaze snaps to your silhouette in the door frame. Their eyes held sorrow, and something else that you did not want to see. 

“Y/N-” Storm had started to speak, but you wouldn’t have it. 

“Turn it off, now,” you’d said, clenched fists at your side as the panic began to swell, small flares of electricity flaring around your knuckles. Memories of the torture, the agony, the hatred came rushing back all at one and your eyes couldn’t leave the screen as it continuously replayed it. 

As the feeling heightening, electricity cracked in the air. Your eyes lit up, a bright purple gleam taking over. There was too much silence in the room, the sounds of your screams playing in a loop like a broken record as the news team played the footage over and over. Finally, someone broke it. “Y/N,” Logan had spoken up, an odd, unfamiliar tone in his voice. Good god, was that pity?

“What?” You had snapped, finally looking away from the footage and making eye contact with the team, with Logan, and you understood it wasn’t pity you heard in his voice, but a form of fear. Your anger slowly dissipated as you took in the state of the room - everyone in that room (who wasn’t bald) had hair floating up into the air, falling under the influence of the clouded electricity that filled the ceiling, just as one is before they get struck by lightning. 

And gods above you had almost struck them. 

Your fists fell lax at your sides, realization of the height of your emotions, the loss of control taking over your features. “I-” you stuttered, unsure how to apologize for the pain you nearly inflicted. “I-I’m sorry.”

For a moment, no one moved a muscle, no one said a word. It wasn’t the first time you had lost control, but it was the first time any of them were in danger because of it. Everyone stood like statues, watching you with bated breath, as if you were one nudge away from electrocuting the masses. You turned and fled the room, quickly striding back to your room to inevitably lock yourself in. It was the only place you felt like you could be and not hurt anyone.

Hours had passed since, but you couldn’t shake the look on their faces, the pure fright they showed, caused by you. Decidedly, that wouldn’t happen again - you wouldn’t allow it, in any capacity. Would they always fear you now? Could you manage to stay surrounded by people you loved, but knew there would always be a limit to how far their love for you went? Could you withstand the constant pins and needles your family would walk on around you, again?

It was that thought that had you hurriedly shuffling through your closet to find the duffle bag you had lugged over your shoulder when you were originally picked up by X-Men. It was crumbled into a wrinkled ball on the top shelf, thought to no longer have any use. 

You paced around the room, picking up the things you knew you couldn’t leave without. The students can go through my clothes, you thought with some sort of sad acceptance. Though, that didn’t keep you from packing some of the staples. The school logo printed on a t-shirt, an old sweatshirt that was singed from a fire fight in your first mission with the rest of the team, a stolen old flannel that smelt like smoke and whiskey-

“Where are you going, sweetheart?” You look up almost startled at Logan standing at the door to your bedroom, now cracked wide open. Logan… You’d nearly forgotten about the worst part - leaving him behind.

He leans against the door frame with a confused expression, arms crossed over his chest. You furrow your brows before turning back to the half-full duffle bag that sat on the foot of your bed. You knew you couldn’t look at him when you spoke again. 

“I’m leaving,” you nearly mutter and you stuff more clothes into the bag. You can feel your eyes getting hot, and try to take a deep breath to calm yourself. 

“What do you mean you’re leaving?” he asks, his own brows furrowing. “Leaving for a mission?”

Your movements paused. You could tell the truth, but the reality was that he would try to stop you. And even if nothing had come out of the tension that hung between the two of you, you knew you would give in. 

“Yeah,” you swallowed as you lied. “Just a quick one, some intel gathering. I’m leaving sometime tomorrow morning.”

There was a brief pause, like Logan was trying to get a read on how truthful you were being. “Maybe I should come with you,” he says. “For backup, just in case.”

You clench your eyes shut - of course, he thought you needed to be accompanied. “I’ll be fine on my own,” your hands slow their movements as you place the last item in the bag, a gray zip up hoodie Logan had given you once. Were you saying that to reassure him, or yourself? You lied through your teeth like it was painful, as if the act of clenching your jaw so hard would break your bones and your will. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

There was another pause, and you were sure he was going to call your bluff, but he just clicked his tongue. “Well alright,” he said gruffly, almost dejectedly. His hand fiddled with the door frame for a moment hesitantly. “You know that if you need-“

“I know,” you interrupted, turning to give him a tight smile. “I know.” He gave a saddened half smile before nodding and walking away. 

The space he once occupied at the door was empty now, but for a moment you stared at as if he was still there, as if he was still trying to comfort you even when he didn’t know how. 

An errant tear slipped from your eye and trailed down your face for a moment before you snapped back into reality, wiping the tear away quickly with the heel of your hand. You aggressively zipped up the bag and slung it over your shoulder, eager to leave before anyone, mainly Charles, got an idea of your plan. 

With the click of the front door, and the clap of a thunderstorm on the dark horizon, you were gone. 

As Logan left your room, he externally winced at his inability to provide comfort - to you of all fucking people - as if the non-action hurt him. The pain on your face seeped into the air and into his adamantium bones, as if it was transferable through the longing gazes and secretly honeyed words. 

He hung his head and he slowly walked further down the hall, a part of him hoping he would hear your door creak open and hear you call out his name. Instead, he was met with the faint sniffles of a teary nose that only his heightened hearing could pick up, a scuffle of fabric being shoved tightly into the duffle that was then harshly zipped shut with a shuddering sigh.

He turned the corner to retreat to his room before he could hear any more, deciding to join the mission the next morning anyways. 

The following morning, Logan made his way to Charles, unexpecting wanting to make his intentions to follow her known to someone. He entered the room, Charles already staring directly at him with a face one could only describe as similar to an omniscient god.

“Logan,” Charles spoke, somewhat resigned. “She doesn’t have a mission.”

Logan paused in his step with a furrowed brow. “What are you talking about? She said she was leaving this morning.”

“I did not give her one,” he confirms. “I have a feeling-”

Logan cut him off before the professor could continue. His jaw was clenched tight as he spoke the words. “She left.”

A tense silence took over the room, Charles watching Logan with a straight, yet dissecting gaze. Logan broke eye contact and looked away momentarily as he felt his heart sink to his stomach for the first time in decades. 

Finally, he looked back to Charles with a determined glare. “Where is she?”

The side of the professor’s mouth twitches up. 

—-

It only took two days for Logan to reach you. Charles was able to track your location easily as soon as he was asked. It took nothing for Logan to take the bike and peel out of the upstate town. Now, he stood in the rain staring at the shitty side-of-the-road motel with a simmering glare. 

His mind floated despondently in the air above him, completely unattached from his body as it stomped its way up the stairs and down the hall to your room. His fist banged on the door loudly, uncaring of its stability under his metal skeleton. His heightened exhaustion and emotions tethered him enough to not let his head fly too far away from him, but the reality was that he hadn’t slept since you left and the only words he spoke were to himself as he practiced what he would say to get you to return.

But then, the door swung open. His mind snapped back to his body as soon as he saw your face, but the pleas he had planned to beg left him just as quick. 

“You lied to me,” he growled, he accused, standing in the open door, his hands resting up on the door frame. The rain continued to pour just past the motel covering, evidence of its duration linger in the form of wet tracks down his leather jacket, the dampness of his hair, the drops that stuck to his face. 

“Logan-”

“You lied to me, Y/N,” he repeated, a new kind of angry heat simmering in his eyes. “You were not leaving for a mission.”

You take another deep breath. “‘M leaving for good,” you utter softly, your hands trembling slightly at the first out loud admission of what you had planned to do. You circled the back in the room, putting the cheap mattress in between you as some sort of barrier. The duffle bag he saw you packing days ago sat mockingly between you both. 

“Come on, what the fuck? ‘Leaving for good’?” He asks incredulously, taking a step forward and letting his arms drop to his sides. “You were going to leave the mansion, just like that?”

You stare at the duffle’s opening, having only reached that motel hours ago, not long enough to unpack the only remaining items you had. “I can’t stay, Logan,” you say softly, not moving to look at him. “No matter how careful I am, no matter how hard I try, I can’t control it, I can’t control me. Even Charles doesn’t know what to do with me, I-I had to leave, it’ll be better for everyone.”

“No,” he says defiantly, moving cautiously closer around the side of the bed. “Not everyone.”

The tears welled in your eyes at his words, unable to stop them from falling and you crossed your arms in front of you protectively, the tear-stained cuffs of the hoodie, his hoodie, pushed up your forearms. “Why are you here, Logan?”

“Why am I- are you stupid?” He scoffed, causing you to flinch at his harshness. “I’m here to bring you back. You’re not leaving the school, you’re not leaving me alone-”

“You don’t want me,” you cried, with tears streaming down your face as you shake your head. He can feel his heart break at the side of your distress. “None of you do. I nearly struck all of you the other day, just because I got emotional. I almost hurt you, and that’s the last thing you need, Logan.”

Logan quickly moves closer to stand in front of you and cups your cheeks, bringing your wet eyes to his. “Don’t you get it,” he says with a strained, rough voice. His thumbs sweep gently under your eyes to brush away the tears. “You are the only thing I need. Fuck everything and everyone else.”

Your hands come up to hold onto his wrist, keeping his hands exactly where they are on your face. “Logan-” you stutter as you search his eyes almost hopefully. “What are you saying?”

There’s a brief silence in between your soft sniffles and the sound of the rain on the other side of the motel door. When Logan speaks again, it is deliberate, and it’s what he wanted to say all along. “I’m saying I am nothing without you, sweetheart,” he urges, his thumb pulling your bottom lip from your teeth. “I was nothing before you, and I know that if you leave now, I’ll be nothing all over again. Not a single person in that school wants you to leave, me especially.”

You squeeze your eyes shut in time with the hopeful clenching of your heart, forcing tears out as you do so. You rest your forehead against Logan’s as he continues. “Please,” he nearly whispers, his nose bumping against yours. “Come home with me and turn nothing into something again.”

You nodded against him and spoke a wet “okay” before pressing your lips, finally, against his. And, just as you had predicted you would several nights ago, you gave in. 

_____

a/n: quickly posting this bc if i keep staring at it i'll never post it pls tell me how i did :D logan smut comin soon, pls like, comment, reblog