#sorry about the reflection in my screen lol

[gingerbreadmonsters]

tapsoc meets on fridays so i will unfortunately not be able to make it this week, but in the grand tradition of @dominimoonbeam let us all put our hands together and be as one in this thursday cafe writing time

[tariah23]

They’re calling my baby Gojo, Joseph Joestar now

[simplygojo]

Care Between the Chaos

Author's Note: Hey y'allll, guess what I'm doing...preparing for a super important job interview!! So guess what I wrote...? Pretty boy Suguru Geto taking care of the reader while she preps for a super important interview!!! LOL at this point I cannot deny the projection allegations. Anyways, I hope you enjoy this sweet oneshot. I LOVE Y'ALL SO MUCH <3

Also, as always, request are open and encouraged! Here are my request guidelines if you're interested, there are also some prompts on there if you need inspo!

Pairing: Modern AU!Suguru Geto x f!reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: Your heart will feel super warm and fuzzy...lol

The golden light of the late afternoon sun had long since surrendered to the deepening twilight, and the harsh, artificial glow of the desk lamp now lighted your room. Your desk was a chaotic battlefield of papers, textbooks, and highlighters, all surrounding your overheating laptop in the centre.

Every surface was cluttered—each corner of the room seemed to reflect the mounting pressure you felt. The soft hum of the old pot lights above you constantly reminded you of the hours you had spent, and the hours yet to come.

The minutes ticked by with excruciating slowness as you pored over your notes, trying to grasp every detail and nuance needed for your important job interview. Your eyes were gritty from staring at the screen, and your mind was clouded with anxiety.

You took a deep breath, trying to focus, but the weight of the impending deadline felt almost unbearable.

This job was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and you did not intend on screwing that up. You had been preparing for about a week, but with less than 24 hours until the interview, you felt as if nothing you did was enough.

The door to your study room creaked open, and your lovely boyfriend, Suguu Geto, stepped inside. A visible concern accompanied his usually effortless charm as he observed the disarray of your office. He moved quietly, his eyes scanning the room before they settled on you. The sight of you hunched over your desk, surrounded by the chaos of your preparations, tugged at his heartstrings.

“Hey, love,” he said softly, his voice a gentle balm against the relentless noise of your stress. His tone was soothing, almost musical, meant to cut through the fog of your anxiety. “How’s it going?”

You glanced up briefly, your eyes tired and red-rimmed. “It’s going alright,” you murmured, your voice lacking its usual vibrancy. “Just a bit more to do before the interview.”

Geto shook his head, a small, understanding smile playing on his lips. He placed a wooden tray on the edge of your desk, positioning it delicately beside your chaos.

You hadn't even noticed him holding the tray as he walked in. It was a thoughtful assortment of comfort foods: freshly baked chocolate chip cookies with their edges perfectly golden, carefully cut slices of fruit, and a neatly wrapped sandwich. The sight of it was like a warm hug for your weary soul.

“Take a break,” Geto said, his voice carrying a tender authority. “You’ll need more than just caffeine to get through this—eat something y/n.” He said, moving to stand behind you, placing his large hands gently on your shoulders after running his fingers through your hair. You reached for a cookie, the rich, sweet aroma providing a momentary escape from the relentless pressure.

The gooey chocolate and soft dough offered a fleeting but much-needed distraction as you bit into it. You closed your eyes for a moment, savouring the taste and the comfort that came with it. “Mmmmm…This is delicious, Suguru.” You said as he leaned down, placing a loving kiss on the top of your head. You smiled softly and tilted your head back to look up at his pretty face.

“I will eat, I promise, you’re so sweet for this…but I can’t take a break right now, baby. I’m sorry.”

Geto watched you with a soft smile, his heart swelling with affection. He saw the tension in your shoulders, the furrow in your brow, and the way you continually rubbed your tired eyes. He knew that a simple snack was only the beginning of what you needed. “Do you need me to help with anything?” He asked, but he knew the answer you were about to say. “Sorry, but now, I just need to keep preparing.” He nodded and planted another kiss on your temple before leaving you to continue your interview prep.

—

The hours passed slowly, the light from the desk lamp casting long shadows across the room. You continued working, your focus wavering as fatigue began to take its toll.

As if on cue, Suguru entered the room, carrying a soft blanket and a hairbrush, but you did not notice him as your face was buried in your computer screen.

He draped the blanket over your shoulders, its softness immediately providing a sense of comfort as you turned your head quickly to meet his gentle gaze. As he tucked it around you, he noticed the tension in your posture. He gently brushed a stray strand of hair from your face, his touch both soothing and affectionate. “Mmm…thank you, baby.” You cooed, letting your body relax under the warmth.

“You should take a break,” he suggested again, his voice soft yet firm. “You’ve been at this for hours. I hate to see you so stressed.”

You shook your head, “I can’t stop now,” you protested weakly, your voice a mix of determination and exhaustion. “There’s still so much to do, and I don’t wnat to waste tim-.”

“Nonsense,” Geto countered before you could finish your thought with a playful firmness. “You need to take care of yourself too. I’m here to help.”

With that, he pulled up a chair behind you and began to work on your hair. His fingers were skilled and gentle, moving with practiced ease as he untangled the knots with his hairbrush and began braiding your hair. The rhythmic motion of his hands was both calming and intimate, each touch designed to ease away the stress that had accumulated from your long hours of work.

As he worked, you could feel the tension in your head and shoulders slowly melting away. The sensation of his familiar touch, combined with the warmth of the blanket was a welcome relief.

Your thoughts began to drift and your eyelids fluttered shut, momentarily distracted from the relentless pressure of your preparations. The soft, rhythmic motion of his hands was like a lullaby, drawing you away from the stress and into a state of calm.

Suguru’s was focused on making sure you felt cared for. He knew that even the smallest gestures could make a big difference in how you felt. His thoughts were filled with a mixture of concern and affection as he continued to braid your hair, each movement designed to bring you comfort.

Suguru’s attention to your needs was instinctive. He knew that even the smallest gestures—a touch, a word—could make a big difference.

His love was quiet, expressed not in grand gestures but in these moments of care, where he sought to lighten your load without taking anything away from your independence.

After finishing the braid, he leaned forward, his warm breath brushing your skin as he kissed the crown of your head softly, lingering just a moment too long.

“You’re doing great,” he whispered, his lips grazing your temple before planting another tender kiss on your cheek. “I’m so proud of you.”

His words, gentle and sincere, filled the room like a warm, protective aura. You smiled despite the exhaustion weighing down on your body.

A part of you wanted to surrender to his care completely, to let him whisk you away from the burden of responsibility. But that determined part of you—the one that had carried you this far, wouldn’t let you rest just yet.

You turned in your chair to face him, giving him a tired but appreciative smile. “You’re too good to me,” you murmured, reaching up to cup his face. “But I can’t rest, Suguru. Not yet.”

He chuckled softly, the low sound reverberating through his chest as he held your gaze. His dark eyes were filled with warmth, a reflection of the depth of his feelings for you.

“I think you deserve a break,” he said, placing a soft kiss on your lips this time. His kiss was slow, delicate—enough to tempt you into abiding, but not enough to fully pull you away from your tasks.

When he pulled back, his eyes searched yours, and for a moment, the world outside of the two of you seemed to disappear.

“Stay here,” you whispered, though a teasing smile played on your lips. “But… let me finish. Just a little longer?”

Geto sighed theatrically, though the fondness in his gaze never wavered. “You are impossibly stubborn, you know that?”

You chuckled, brushing a thumb across his cheek. “I know. But that’s why you love me.”

He smirked, leaning in for one more kiss, this one a little firmer, a little more insistent. It was a kiss that promised more, but also one that said, I’ll wait.

“You’re right,” he murmured against your lips. “That’s exactly why.”

With a gentle squeeze of your hand, Geto reluctantly pulled away, though not without one last, lingering look that left your heart fluttering. He straightened up, his hands trailing down your arms as he rose to his feet.

“I’ll be in the other room,” he said, his voice soft but tinged with the unspoken promise that he’d return if you needed him.

You nodded, biting back another smile as you turned back to your work.

The desk lamp cast its warm glow over the papers once more, but this time, the weight on your shoulders felt lighter—knowing Suguru was there, just a room away, gave you the strength to push through.

You sighed contentedly, feeling the remnants of his tender living care wrapped around you like the blanket he had so thoughtfully draped over your shoulders. Suguru’s love was quiet, persistent, and steady. And in this moment, even in the midst of your stress, you couldn’t help but feel incredibly lucky to have him.

—

The hours dragged on as the hum of your laptop filled the quiet room. Despite Suguru’s care and the warmth of the blanket over your shoulders, you continued to push through. The stress of preparing for the interview was like a weight on your chest, driving you to review every last detail of your presentation.

Fatigue gnawed at your senses, but you stubbornly ignored it.

Your fingers moved slowly over the keyboard, eyes struggling to focus on the words that had long since blurred. You barely noticed the dim light of your screen, and the quiet of the house settled into a calming lull.

Suguru, ever mindful, peeked into your office from time to time. He could see the way your head drooped closer to the screen, the way your back slumped in the chair, the exhaustion etched in your every movement.

After what felt like an eternity, Suguru decided enough was enough. He reappeared at the doorway of your office, a glass of water in hand.

As he approached, he saw your body had finally succumbed to the exhaustion you had been fighting. Your head was resting on your folded arms atop the desk, the faint glow of the laptop barely illuminating your peaceful face.

The screen had dimmed automatically, its light reflecting softly off your skin, casting long shadows across the room.

Suguru’s steps softened as he entered the room, not wanting to disturb you. He set the glass of water down quietly beside the untouched cup of tea he had brought earlier and knelt beside you, taking in the sight of your sleeping form.

The tension that had lined your features throughout the day had finally faded, leaving you with an expression of serenity. A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he brushed a few strands of hair out of your face, tucking them gently behind your ear.

His gaze lingered, his heart swelling with warmth and affection.

You had worked yourself to the point of exhaustion, and as much as he admired your dedication, he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of guilt for letting you get this far without insisting on rest.

He knew how much this interview meant to you, but he also knew that you needed sleep just as much.

Suguru rose to his feet, stepping behind your chair as he gently placed a hand on your shoulder. “Y/n,” he whispered softly, his voice barely above a breath. There was no response. You were too far gone in sleep to even stir. He chuckled under his breath, shaking his head. "Stubborn as always."

Without another word, he slipped his arms beneath you, careful not to wake you as he lifted your limp form from the chair. Your head lolled softly against his chest as he cradled you in his strong arms, the weight of your body nothing compared to the warmth in his heart. The blanket that had once been draped over your shoulders fell away—forgotten as Suguru began to carry you out of the office.

The hallway was dark, lit only by the dim light of the moon filtering through the windows. The soft sound of his footsteps was the only noise in the stillness of the house. He glanced down at you as he walked, watching the steady rise and fall of your chest as you slept soundly against him.

As he reached the bedroom, Suguru nudged the door open with his foot and crossed the room to the bed. He laid you down gently, his movements careful and precise, not wanting to disturb your sleep. Once you were settled, he pulled the covers up to your chin, tucking you in with the same tenderness he had shown all evening.

For a long moment, he stood beside the bed, just watching you sleep. His eyes softened as he took in the sight of you, safe and sound under his watch. He leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there for a heartbeat longer than necessary.

“I love you,” he whispered, the words barely audible in the quiet of the room.

Suguru straightened up, brushing a hand through his long hair before glancing back at you one last time, soaking in your effortless beauty.

He smiled softly to himself as he quietly left the room, knowing you would wake up tomorrow feeling refreshed—whether you wanted to or not.

[its-all-stardust]

Sugar || 5

Masterlist || Part Four || Part Six

Steven Grant/Sugar Mommy!Reader

Word count: 3.2k

Series Summary: You meet Steven in a museum gift shop and feel an instant connection. Before you walk out the door you decide, perhaps against your better judgment, that you need him to be your sugar baby. Now you just need him to let you treat him right.

Notes: I'll admit, this chapter isn't my favorite but it works lol. it's mainly here to establish certain things to make it easier for me in the future, so sorry if it's not as good as the others!

You call Steven immediately, but he doesn’t answer. Hanging up without leaving a message, you text him.

Is everything okay? You quickly type. You don’t want to immediately ask why he left. Maybe he was uncomfortable staying the night but didn’t want to say anything.

But then, why did he ask to kiss you again before you left him for the night?

As frustrating as it is for Steven to pull such a vanishing act, it hurts worse. You’re so attached to him already, and the thought that you might have done something to upset him or that he might not want to be around you is crushing.

There’s no immediate response to your text, and you try not to let this minor hiccup affect you. Surely something must have happened for Steven—sweet Steven, who apologizes for not responding to a message within a few minutes—not to have gotten back to you yet.

You’re left standing in the middle of your apartment, lost.

With a shake of your head, you try to put the worst from your mind. For all you know, he could have gotten called into work early and forgot to let you know on his rush out the door. You open your banking app and pay Steven for the night, making sure to deduct whatever you were planning to pay for the pleasure of waking up to him in your home. You also make a mental note to give Steven a firm talking to when you next see each other.

You didn’t hear from Steven for the rest of the weekend.

You’re reminded of one of your babies from a few years ago—the one who ghosted you after one date—and like a parasite, the idea that Steven might have done the same thing latches onto you and refuses to let go.

Monday morning, you’re determined not to let a mere sugar baby distract you—even though you don’t think of Steven as a “mere” anything—and steel yourself for what could be the inevitable end to a short-lived relationship. Steven taking two weeks to talk to you before agreeing to be your baby was one thing. It was another to agree to follow your rules, only to disregard them entirely. If Steven can’t commit to you the way you want him to, or if he decides that this isn’t for him, then you aren’t going to keep him.

It could even be a good thing, you try to convince yourself.

Maybe this could all be a lesson you need to learn about picking babies off the street.

You shake your head to rid yourself of the thought. You’re catastrophizing again. You’re making this personal, a reflection of yourself and your abilities. At the end of the day, Steven is an employee you hired because you thought he could do the job. After seeing some trouble from him, you’re merely reconsidering his position with you.

You ignore how much your stomach roils at the thought of letting him go.

At lunch, your phone vibrates in your purse—where you had tossed it earlier when you couldn’t stop staring at it from its usual place on your desk.

The sound makes you pause, questioning if someone is really calling you.

It might not be Steven, you tell yourself as you slowly, calmly reach into your bag and pull out your phone.

But it is him, and the weight in your stomach eases a little.

You stare at the phone, at Steven’s name on the screen, until it goes dark and stops vibrating. Then, a moment later, a notification pops up, announcing a voicemail.

Still, you wait. It’s only fair, after all.

Immediately, your phone starts buzzing again, Steven’s name displaying again. This time, you answer.

“Steven,” you say, your voice low. Although you’re glad he called and persisted with the voicemail and a second call, you’re still upset with him. He better have a good reason for disappearing.

“I am so sorry,” Steven says after a moment, perhaps registering your tone and knowing how upset you are. “I think…I think something’s wrong with me.”

“Why do you say that?” Despite your confusion, you keep your tone even, neither believing nor disbelieving him until you have more information.

Steven hesitates. “You’ll think I’m mad,” he mumbles, seemingly more to himself than to you.

That’s what hits you: your baby is going through something he’s afraid you’ll reject him for, that you won’t be there for him. And right now, regardless of how you feel, he needs you.

“Steven,” you say, softening your voice and letting a hint of worry peak through. “What’s wrong? Explain it to me.”

“I don’t remember this weekend,” Steven quietly admits, deepening your worry. “I mean, I remember staying at yours, but then suddenly I’m home, standing in the bathroom, and it’s Monday. And I know you’re mad at me, I know. I’m sorry. I just don’t know what’s going on.” Steven finishes, sounding on the verge of tears if a few haven’t slipped out already.

“Baby, hush,” you soothe. “I’m not mad at you.” Not anymore, though you are…concerned.

“You’re not?” Steven asks, hopeful.

“No, I’m not. But what happened? Are you not feeling well? Did you hit your head?”

You want to ask if he took anything, but hold off. It doesn’t feel like the right time, and it could potentially make him defensive and resistant to help if you do.

“Nothing like that. Mainly tired, like I haven’t slept in days, but nothing else.”

Strange, to say the least.

“Have you gone to the doctor?”

“N-no, I haven’t. I wasn’t sure…Since nothing’s wrong—”

“Steven, you blacked out for an entire day. That’s not normal,” you insist. Steven goes quiet. “Go. For me. I need to know you’re okay.”

“Okay,” he agrees softly.

“You’ll go today,” you order.

“Yes. Today.”

You think for a moment, biting your lip. “You’ll come to my place later. Meet me there when I get off work.”

You don’t know if inviting him back to your place is a good idea. There could genuinely be something wrong with Steven, something happening to him. But there’s also a chance he’s keeping something, some bad habit or another, from you.

You briefly rethink your decision to forgo a background check on him, but even still, you don’t make plans to follow through with it.

Despite the warning signs, you still want to see him, need to see him. You need to know he’s okay and be there for him. It takes everything in you not to go and be with him now, your anger forgotten and your worry about what he may have gotten himself into ignored.

He’s yours, and you want to take care of him. It’s almost as if, in the short time you’ve known him, he’s done something to you.

“I’ll be there,” Steven says, sounding more sure than anything else he’s said so far. “I…I need to see you.”

You try to ignore the warmth that floods through you.

Steven looks lost as he stands outside your door. He hesitates when he sees you, unsure whether to go to you or wait for you to reach him and unlock the door.

He looks tired, like he indeed hasn’t slept since he was here on Saturday, and his clothes are disheveled, more so than usual. You’ve yet to hear what happened to him over the weekend, what caused his blackout, but you already have a half-formed plan to keep him here tonight and put him to bed as soon as possible.

When you get close, you say his name softly and hold out your arms.

Steven looks relieved as he steps into you, his arms tucking under yours as he buries his face in your neck. He melts into you, and the two of you stand outside your door, each drawing some comfort from the other.

One of your hands goes to his head, threading your fingers through his curl and holding him tight. You kiss the side of his head and wait, letting him hold onto you for as long as he needs.

He clings to you so desperately it makes you wonder if he has anyone else.

Why is it that you, his sugar mommy, are the first person he came to? Regardless of your feelings toward him, surely he has family or friends he could turn to in a moment like this.

You don’t recall him mentioning anyone, except his mother, off-handedly. From how he made it sound, you don’t think she’s even in London.

Maybe you’re all he has.

The thought makes you cling to him as much as he is to you. With Steven in your arms, it’s easy to decide that no matter what’s wrong, you’ll help him. Maybe it’s something where it wouldn’t be right for him to keep being your sugar baby, but you won’t abandon him.

When Steven shows no sign of letting you go, you whisper, “Let’s go inside.”

He reluctantly pulls away and nods, though his hand quickly finds yours.

Once you’re through the door, you kick off your shoes and lead Steven to the couch. You’re a little surprised he doesn’t immediately curl up to your side, but he seems to realize the two of you still need to talk. And whatever he has to say must be serious.

“Did you go to the doctor like I said?” you ask when Steven doesn’t speak.

Instead, he deflates, falling back against the couch, tossing his head back, and staring up at the vaulted ceiling.

“She’s as stumped as I am, I think. Couldn’t find anything without running tests and…” he trails off, sounding defeated.

“And?” you prompt, squeezing his hand. He still hasn’t let go.

“She said it could just be sleepwalking or something like that. But for a whole day?” Steven lifts his head up, staring at you in confusion. “How can I have been asleep for a whole day? Not to mention getting from your flat to mine. Ugh, and then Donna.” Steven falls back and rubs his free hand down his face.

You had forgotten he was scheduled to work today. “You went in?”

“I was supposed to. Supposed to be there at nine, but came to staring at myself in the bathroom mirror with my phone ringing in the other room.”

“I take it Donna didn’t handle your absence well.”

“Oh, perfectly well, actually, if you don’t count the, you know, yelling and threatening to fire me. Had to tell her it was an emergency and promise that it won’t happen again to get her to stop. I don’t think she even believed me.”

You can practically see the weight of it all resting on Steven’s shoulders. Waking up after a blackout, knowing something is wrong, and then having your manager chewing you out immediately after? It would be horrible.

“Oh, Steven,” you soothe, pulling him to you so you can hug him again. “What about those tests the doctor mentioned? Are you going to take them? I could pull some strings and get you in to see a specialist sooner.”

“You don’t have to,” Steven insists as he wraps his arms around your waist. “There’s a chance it’s nothing… Just wait and see and hope it doesn’t happen again.”

You have to bite your tongue to keep from arguing. You’ve never had to worry about a baby’s health before, and you’re not sure if insisting that he seek treatment goes beyond the bounds you set for the relationship or if Steven would even appreciate you inserting yourself into that part of his life. You don’t want to tell him what to do regarding certain aspects of his personal life, but you still worry.

“Did you tell your family about what happened?” you ask instead. If you can’t tell him what to do about his health, maybe they can.

“It’s just my mum,” Steven says quietly, as if unsure what he wants to tell you. “I left her a message. She’s always traveling, so it’s hard to catch her. She’ll listen to it when she can, though. She always does.”

Something about his tone is slightly off, making you wonder who he’s trying to convince.

“Can we just…go back to normal?” Steven asks, sounding exhausted. “I don’t want to think about it anymore.”

“Normal, huh?” you concede, running your fingers through his hair. You’ll play everything by ear for now, and Steven seems well enough that you’re willing to drop the topic for tonight.

“Please?” he mumbles into your neck.

“Well, it just so happens that I got something in the mail for you today.”

Steven lifts his head, brow furrowed. “What’s that?”

You start pulling away, preparing to stand. “I’m going to need you to sound more enthusiastic than that, baby,” you say, kissing Steven’s cheek.

“Right, sorry,” he says, his face flushing like he’s already forgotten your roles. “I love it already. Thank you.”

You can’t help but laugh as you walk over to the front door where you left your bag. Grabbing the card you had safely tucked away earlier when it arrived at the office, you walk back to the living room and stand directly in front of Steven.

You flash the card at him, showing off his name and making Steven’s eyes widen in surprise.

“There’s no limit; you can use it to buy anything and everything. It’s already activated, and I have notifications set up on my phone, so I’ll know when you use it.” Your eyes narrow as you watch Steven visibly swallow, nervous. “And when you don’t.”

“I-I…” Steven stammers but doesn’t quite finish whatever he’s trying to get out.

You watch him closely, looking for any sign that he isn’t interested in this kind of play, the slightest hint that he’s uncomfortable.

Something dark shifts across his features then, twisting his expression toward a scowl. But then it’s gone in an instant, Steven’s expression returning to what it was, his soft brown eyes so trusting. You have no idea what to make of it.

Though it leaves you confused, you decide to continue but are mindful of any other signs that you’ll need to stop what you’re doing. What you have in mind isn’t intense, but some of your babies found it degrading and didn’t like doing it.

“Tell me why I should give you this card,” you say.

Steven shakes his head automatically. “I don’t deserve it.”

You raise an eyebrow. “No? But aren’t you doing this for the money? And all the other things I can give you?”

He looks away briefly before meeting your eyes again. Even though he’s hesitating, nothing about him says he doesn’t want to be doing this.

“Yes? But you already—”

“Steven.” His mouth snaps shut at your tone. “Repeat after me: I deserve an unlimited credit card.”

He flushes again and mumbles, “I deserve an unlimited credit card.”

“Louder.”

Steven repeats himself, only slightly louder than the first time.

“Again,” you order, still not satisfied.

When Steven repeats the words this time, he does so at a normal speaking volume—not too loud, but perfect for you.

“Good boy,” you praise, reaching out to hold his face with your free hand. You can tell this was hard for Steven, and you hope, one day, asking for the things he wants will be easier for him.

Steven closes his eyes with a contented sigh and nuzzles your palm. You can’t help but smile adoringly at him.

“Do you know why you deserve it?” you ask, keeping your voice low, soft.

He opens his eyes and shakes his head slightly, careful not to knock your hand away. “Because you’re my baby, and you’re special. Say it.”

Steven lets out a shaky breath against your palm. “Because I’m yours, and I’m special.” He doesn’t mumble or stumble over the words. His voice is clear and even, making you let out a pleased hum. You’re a little proud of him.

“Since you want it so much, beg for the card,” you say, watching him carefully.

Steven seems a little taken aback, and you drop your hand from his face.

“You can always say no,” you remind him. “This doesn’t have to be something we do. No hard feelings.”

When he doesn’t immediately respond, you take a step back and go to hand him the card. He’s done so well already, and you won’t push him into something he doesn’t want to do. Just because he’s your sugar baby doesn’t mean he’s a toy to toss around as you please.

But then Steven’s hands are on your hips, holding you in place.

“Please,” he whispers, staring up at you beseechingly from his place on the couch. Your heart starts to pound, elated.

“Please, what? What do you want?” You need him to say the words; you need to know that he wants to do this, too.

“Please give me the card,” he says, his voice still so quiet.

“You don’t sound like you want it bad enough.”

Steven shifts on the couch, moving close to the edge. His hands on your hips tighten ever so slightly. He licks his lips and says, “Please, can I have it? I promise I’ll use it. I’ll-I’ll buy so much stuff. Please?” He sounds happy to play along but isn’t sure quite what to say. You’re pleased, though, that he’s trying.

“Please what?” you prompt, hoping he’ll get the message, that he’ll like that part of the relationship too.

Steven stares at you for a moment. Then, “Please, mummy,” said in a breathless whisper.

Smiling brightly at him, you lean down and kiss him. Steven eagerly returns it, gripping your hips tighter and trying to pull you closer even though his head is already tilted back at a slightly awkward angle.

“You did so well, baby,” you say when you pull away. During the kiss, your hand somehow found its way into Steven’s hair, gripping it just enough to move his head how you wanted. You slide your hand back down to his cheek, brushing your thumb against the flush you find there. His pupils are blown wide, and his mouth is slightly open as he lets out shallow pants.

Standing up straight, you hold the credit card out for Steven. “Buy whatever you want, and you’re not getting off this couch until you do.”

“Right now?” Steven asks, sounding a little dazed. He reluctantly releases your hips to take the card, allowing you to sit beside him.

“Yes, right now. Pull out your phone.” You settle in against his side, throwing an arm on the back of the couch, around his shoulders when he settles back, so you can hover over him. “Do you want one of those giant TVs? A gaming system or a computer? What about getting the fixings for a saltwater tank and getting Gus an exotic friend?”

“I… don’t know,” Steven says, taking his phone out of his pocket and unlocking it. He still seems overwhelmed by the whole idea of having such an outrageous amount of money to spend. You affectionately brush one of his curls away from his face.

“Don’t worry, we have all night to figure it out.”

Series taglist: @multific @uncle-eggy @kezibear @local-mr-frog @peachyrue-777 @kpopslur @tejasvkris @thewinterv

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[wannabehockeygf]

Snow's Falling - Matthew Tkachuk

So... I did a thing, and I wrote an entire Tkachuk mini-fic instead of working on my other WIPS (sorry LOL) Word Count: 10k

Pairing: Matthew Tkachuk x fem! reader

Tags: Fluff, texting, self-discovery, don't know what else

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol

Notes: This takes place a few years back, when he was still on the flames (alberta girl by heart I couldn't bring myself to write about Florida), I'm gonna say it's around 2020-2021 (ignoring covid ofc). This was going to be smutty but I decided against it halfway through writing. (***) is kind of like a chapter/long time skip, (---) short time skip. AND LETS JUST IGNORE HIS BIRTHDAY IS ACTUALLY THE SECOND WEEK OF DECEMBER! THIS IS NOT PROOF READ! My eyes hurt so just lmk if something is wrong. Also it might be repetitive because this is basically just an idea dump lol.

ratthew grow that hair out again I’m begging

***

CALGARY, ALBERTA was the best city in Canada - to you, anyway. Close to every time someone said that you were wrong, you defended it with your entire heart and soul, as if your life depended on it. You knew that the negative forty winters would always be outshined by the sheer atmosphere of the city, the people, the everything.

This was your hometown, after all. And to you, absolutely nothing would have beaten it.

That was until a couple of weeks ago, a gloomy early November afternoon when the first snow of the year had just started falling, and you were laying down on your plush leather couch in your loft apartment. The dim light from the overcast sky filtered through the large glass windows, casting a soft, grayish hue over the room. The warmth from your latte radiated through the ceramic mug, the sensation slightly burning the tips of your fingers. You had your laptop propped on your lap as you reviewed a slideshow from your last lecture, the glow of the screen reflecting off your eyes. The soft hum of the city’s afternoon rush filled the room, a symphony of distant car engines and muffled conversations.

You momentarily turned your head to the large glass sliding door leading to your balcony, watching the snowflakes fall gently, each one a unique crystal dancing its way to the ground. Winter was here, and it wouldn’t be long before you would have to trade in your baseball caps and leggings for jeans and beanies. The thought of it brought a small, nostalgic smile to your face as you envisioned snow-covered streets and the festive lights that would soon adorn the city.

Your phone suddenly started ringing, snapping you out of the magical, snowy trance you were stuck in. The ringtone pierced the tranquil atmosphere, making you jump slightly. You reached for it, your nicely manicured nails clacking against the screen as you swiped right to accept the call. “Hey, babe, what’s up?” you asked, your eyes now focused on your laptop screen again, though your mind was still partially lost in the falling snow outside.

“Hey,” your boyfriend’s voice came through, clearly deflated and even slightly shaky, “Can we talk?”

You immediately sat up, propping up your back with a pillow as you put your latte on the coffee table. The warmth from the mug lingered on your fingertips. “Of course, what’s up?” you replied, concern whirling within you.

Your boyfriend sighed, a sound heavy with unspoken words. “I don’t even know how to say this, but… um, we need to break up.”

The words hit you like a blizzard, much like the one outside, but this one was much worse. You felt as if the ground beneath you had disappeared, leaving you to float in a surreal void. “Wait, what?” you managed to stammer, your voice barely above a whisper. “Why? What happened?”

“I just… I don’t think this is working anymore,” he said, his voice tinged with regret. “I’ve been feeling this way for a while, and I think it’s best if we both move on.”

Your mind raced as you tried to process his words. You thought back to the times you’d shared together, the laughs, the arguments, the moments that had defined your relationship. It was as if the day you met on the University of Calgary campus a year ago was just yesterday, and it didn’t make sense. How had it come to this?

“Is there someone else?” you asked, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and fear.

“No, it’s not that,” he replied quickly. “It’s just… I’ve changed. We’ve changed. I think we’re both heading in different directions.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you blinked them back furiously, unwilling to let them fall. “But I love you,” you said, your voice breaking.

“I know,” he said softly. “It’s not you, it’s me.”

The line went silent for a moment, and all you could hear was your heart pounding in your ears, so hard it felt like it was about to explode out of your chest. You didn’t know what you were supposed to do, as you’d never felt pain like that before.

“I’m sorry,” he said finally. “I really am. I hope we can still be friends.”

You knew those words were meant to comfort, but they only made the pain worse. “Yeah,” you said, forcing the word out. “Me too.”

You hung up the phone, your hands shaking. The laptop screen in front of you blurred as tears filled your eyes. You leaned back against the couch, hugging a pillow to your chest as sobs wracked your body, completely and utterly. But the noise outside continued, oblivious to your personal storm.

Calgary wouldn’t stop moving, no matter what happened to you. ***

1 month later

Your thumb rolls against the lighter, the spark flaring up in the dim room as you ignite it, tipping a holly berry-scented candle toward the flame until the wick begins to blacken at the end. The warm, spicy scent fills the air, mingling with the cool night breeze wafting through the open window. The white duvet beneath you crinkles softly as you lean back into the plush comfort of your bed, picking up your phone to scroll mindlessly. The soft glow of the screen illuminates your face in the otherwise dark room, casting fleeting shadows as you swipe through various posts.

You come across an Instagram story from a girl you’d met in a campus library a few years back. The story is a screenshot of texts she had exchanged with her ‘number neighbour’—a person whose phone number differs by just one digit. The joke in her story is that her neighbor turned out to be a thirteen-year-old boy, but the concept intrigues you nonetheless.

Despite the nagging voice of reason, you press the messages app. Your thumbs work swiftly, typing your number but with the last digit counted up. The screen's light reflects in your eyes as you lean over to turn on your bedside lamp, casting a warm glow that lights the room halfway. You snap a selfie, making a thumbs-up gesture toward the camera, a half-smile tugging at your lips. You type out a jokey message along with it, and after a brief hesitation, you tap send. Nothing too bad could happen, right?

You: Happy birthday man, hope you had beers on the house! [insert selfie]

After sending the message, you throw your phone across the bed. It lands on the opposite corner with a soft thud. It's already eleven-thirty, and whoever your 'number neighbour' is, if they even respond, probably won’t do so until morning. You shut your eyes, the flickering candle casting dancing shadows on the walls. The room is filled with the comforting scent of holly berry, lulling you closer to sleep, even though you know you’ll have to put the candle out eventually. Exhaustion takes over, and you're seconds away from drifting off.

Until your phone pings.

You jolt awake at the sound, your heart skipping a beat. No way, right? You reach over to your phone, the screen lighting up the dim room. The notification icon indicates a new message, and with a mix of curiosity and trepidation, you unlock your phone to see what they said.

???: Haha thanks, didn’t know it was my birthday today!

Attached is a picture of the side of a man’s face, brown curls falling down his forehead glistening with sweat. You can see a gym behind him and a dimple on his cheek as he mirrors your thumbs-up, but nothing else besides half of a blue eye. The photo is taken from an upward angle where you notice he is wearing a muscle shirt, and lord, is he fit.

You: You’re at the gym this late?

???: Hell yeah. Best time, honestly. Knocks me right out when I get home.

You: Fair enough, guess we’re both night owls.

???: Guess so.

You let the text sit for a while, unsure how to respond, but to your surprise, another text comes through five minutes later.

???: So, who am I talking to?

You stare at the screen, debating whether to reveal your identity or keep the conversation anonymous for a bit longer. There's something intriguing about this mystery man, and a part of you wants to prolong the curiosity. You decide to play along.

You: Your number neighbour. Saw it on someone’s story. You’re not a thirteen-year-old boy, are you?

???: Last time I checked, no. Definitely not a thirteen-year-old boy.

You can't help but chuckle at his response. There’s something about this mystery conversation that feels oddly comforting, a small distraction from the heartbreak that still lingers. You decide to keep the banter going, finding solace in this unexpected connection.

You: Good to know. Would be weird if I was texting a middle schooler.

???: Agreed. So, can I get a name, number neighbour?

You bite your lip, contemplating his request. This playful anonymity has provided a small, thrilling escape from the heartbreak you are still nursing. But something about his confidence, and the hint of charm in his words, makes you want to take the plunge.

You: Maybe... It depends. Are you going to tell me yours first?

There is a pause, and you imagine him standing there in the gym, perhaps wiping sweat from his brow, considering how much to reveal. The anticipation is oddly exhilarating.

???: Fair enough. I'm Matt.

You: Just Matt?

Matt: Well, Matthew, but nobody calls me that unless I'm in trouble.

You chuckle softly, the sound breaking the stillness of your room.

You: Y/N

Matt: I like that name. Suits you.

Matt's reply brings a faint smile to your lips, a small flicker of warmth in the otherwise chilly aftermath of your recent breakup. Though you know you’re young and attractive, allowing yourself to flirt with this random stranger feels like a gift to help heal from the heartbreak.

You: What do you mean by that?

Matt: It’s pretty.

His words strike a chord, echoing a sentiment you haven't felt in a while — someone noticing you beyond the surface, beyond the pain you carry. It’s refreshing, and you find yourself drawn to the conversation more than you expected.

You: You think I’m pretty?

And then you wait for his reply. And wait. And then, wait even more, lying back on your bed, your phone lying beside you as your arms have turned limp, and stay there until your eyelids get too heavy for your own good. ---

The next morning, you wake up with a frown already imprinted on your face. It's probably a bad idea, but getting a bit of attention and then losing it is tough, especially considering your last message. You sit up, the bed frame creaking as you look out the window. It's already the second week of December, and all the roofs visible from your downtown apartment are coated in snow. The Christmas season is starting to kick in, the only thing you can look forward to – you love Christmas.

That night, while lounging around your apartment and revising for your final exams, your phone buzzes. You pounce on it, hoping it's mystery Matt.

Matt: Shit, sorry. Had to finish up last night and was working all day.

You glare at the screen. What a lame excuse, you think. He didn’t even answer your question, and now he's claiming he worked all day. You toss your phone aside, giving him a taste of his own medicine. It works for a bit, but an hour later, another text comes through.

Matt: Wyd?

You roll your eyes, still irritated by his earlier silence. But curiosity and a hint of loneliness get the better of you, and you decide to respond, albeit with a touch of sarcasm.

You: The glamorous life of a student. Studying. What about you?

Matt's response comes almost immediately, as if he's been eagerly waiting.

Matt: Ah, finals season, huh? Not jealous of that.

You sigh, feeling conflicted. You want the attention but are still annoyed by his lack of response. Despite that, you find yourself typing back.

You: Well, good thing it’s not you then.

Matt: I’m sorry?

You: Were you actually at work?

Matt: Yeah? Why would I lie about that?

Your fingers hover over the keyboard, unsure of how to respond. Part of you wants to believe him, to give him the benefit of the doubt, but the other part is wary. Right as you’re about to type a response, a text from Matt comes through, replying to your text from the previous night.

Matt: Is this about this?

You: Sure, but you don’t have to spare my feelings. Come on, just lay it on me. It’s not you, it’s…

Matt: I was going to say yes.

You stare at Matt's message, slightly shocked. Maybe he wasn't ignoring you after all. His response is straightforward, almost vulnerable in a way that makes you pause.

You: Oh. Sorry, I guess I’m just stressed. And maybe a little attention-starved.

Matt: Any reason for that?

You consider how much you want to reveal to Matt. Despite the initial frustration, his directness appeals to you. Maybe it's the honesty or the fact that he seems genuinely interested, unlike your recent ex who struggled with communication.

You: Just dealing with some personal stuff. It's been a rough couple of weeks.

Matt's response is immediate, with a tone of understanding.

Matt: I get that. Breakup?

You pause, surprised at his insight. It's as if he can read between the lines of your texts.

You: Yeah, actually. Sorry for being so standoffish earlier.

Matt: Haha, I’m a strong guy, I can take it. Also, sorry about the breakup. They suck.

Five minutes later, another message comes through.

Matt: Not trying to be weird, but how old are you?

You: 21. You?

Matt: 23. I was just asking because I was going to offer to help you with the attention-starved thing. If you’ll have me?

You hesitate for a moment, unsure how to interpret Matt's offer. His straightforwardness is refreshing yet slightly intimidating. But something about his persistence intrigues you. After a brief pause, you decide to play along.

You: Hmm, are you suggesting you're good at providing attention?

Matt: I like to think so. At least, I try.

You can't help but smile at his response. There's a sincerity in his words that feels genuine, a stark contrast to your recent breakup.

You: What do you have in mind?

Matt: Well, I take from earlier that you like being complimented?

Your cheeks burn as his directness now feels endearing rather than abrupt. Despite your initial reservations, his straightforward approach is comforting. You decide to indulge him a bit.

You: Depends.

Matt: I think you have really nice eyes. Not much to go off of, so if I ask real nicely, will you send me more pictures of you?

You pause, considering Matt's request. His boldness is surprising and oddly appealing, especially given your recent emotional rollercoaster. You crave the distraction, the validation, and perhaps a connection that feels less complicated than your recent relationship.

You: Maybe. What do I get in return?

Matt: Compliments. And attention.

You: Wow, charming, aren’t you? Are you always this forward?

Matt: Only when I’m interested. And I’m definitely interested.

His words send a flutter through your chest, a mix of nerves and excitement. You find yourself smiling as you send him a picture of yourself at your birthday party from a few months ago, in a black bodycon dress and a tiara.

A few minutes pass before his response pops up, making your entire body heat up.

Matt: Permission to call you hot?

You laugh at his confidence. Matt's interest feels like a soothing balm for your wounded heart. The combination of his directness and warmth is intriguing, and a part of you wants to see where this could lead.

You: Permission granted.

Matt: You’re hot. Like, seriously. Wish I’d met you sooner.

You: You’re just trying to get into my pants, aren’t you?

Matt: Well, if you’d rather have a normal conversation with you, I will, gladly. But you wanted a distraction, right?

You: Maybe I do.

Matt: Then, how do you prefer to be distracted?

You: You might be on the right track.

Matt: Cool, I think I can handle that.

A few minutes pass before he texts again.

Matt: So… what are you wearing?

You: Seriously?

Matt: Haha, just kidding. Unless… you want to tell me?

You smirk at his cheekiness, feeling a playful spark ignite within you. The conversation has taken an unexpected turn, and the idea of engaging in a flirtatious exchange with Matt is both thrilling and liberating. You decide to play along.

You: Just a sweatshirt and flannel shorts. Nothing special, lol.

Matt: Doesn’t matter if it’s nothing special, bet you still look cute.

You: What about you?

Matt: Just sweatpants. Why? You wanna see?

You: Is there a problem with that?

Matt: Not at all. One sec.

A moment later, your phone buzzes with an incoming picture. You open it to see Matt standing in his bedroom, the camera angled to capture his athletic build. He’s shirtless, his sweatpants hanging low on his hips, revealing his defined muscles. The dim lighting casts shadows that accentuate his physique. Once again, you don't see his face, but his curls are frizzy and unruly this time.

You don’t respond for a while, simply ogling the photo.

Matt: Cat got your tongue?

You: No.

You start typing an explanation, an excuse, maybe even a confession that you definitely saved that photo, but he beats you.

Matt: Your turn.

You: You want my face or my body?

Matt: Whatever you’re comfortable with, I can work with.

With a deep breath, you angle your phone upwards, hiking up your shorts so the curve of your hip is visible. Your oversized sweater shows nothing, but above are your lips, curved in a small smile, with the frame cutting off right before your nose. The city lights are visible behind you in the window. You snap a photo and quickly send it.

Matt's response is immediate, a single word that makes your pulse quicken.

Matt: Damn.

You feel a surge of satisfaction mixed with nerves. It's exhilarating, this dance of teasing and flirtation, each message building upon the last. You are both exploring new territory, testing boundaries, and reveling in the mutual attraction.

You: Like what you see?

Matt: Very much so. But I want to see more.

Your heart races at his boldness. There's no denying the chemistry between you, the electric tension crackling through the phone screen. You hesitate for a moment, your mind racing with possibilities. Finally, you decide to indulge in the moment, letting go of the hurt from your recent breakup and embracing this new, exciting connection.

You lie down on your bed, holding the phone above you as you pull down your shorts until the waistband is around your hips. You roll up your sweater, exposing part of your torso, and your legs are mostly visible as well, cutting off at your feet. Your fingers tremble slightly as you snap another photo, the dim lighting in your room casting a soft glow over your skin. With a mix of nerves and excitement, you hit send before you can overthink it.

Matt: Fuck. You're stunning.

His response sends a thrill down your spine, a rush of validation and desire mingling with the lingering ache of your recent breakup. Yet, with Matt, it feels different — liberating, even empowering. But, you decide to tease him.

You: Wow, cold. My face isn’t even in that.

Matt: You’re right. Let me see that pretty face.

You decide to give him what he wants. You take another photo, this time showing your face but still with an element of playfulness. You angle the camera to capture a side profile, your sweater slightly off your shoulder, revealing a hint of skin. The soft lighting accentuates your features, and you smile subtly before hitting send.

Matt's reply is almost immediate.

Matt: Beautiful. Seriously. How far do you live from Calgary?

You: I’m in Calgary, actually. Why?

Matt: Me too. And I want you to come over.

You freeze, Matt’s proposition hanging in the air like a charged current. The idea of meeting him in person, after this electrifying exchange, both thrills and intimidates you. It’s a leap into the unknown, a step away from the safe cocoon of your apartment.

You: I don’t even know what you look like. Kind of weird, don’t you think?

Matt: Fair enough, I’ll hold off for now. I gotta bolt now though, early morning tomorrow.

You feel a mix of relief and disappointment at Matt's response. Part of you is grateful for the pause, giving you time to process everything that has just happened. The other part, however, is buzzing with anticipation, wondering what could happen next between you two.

You: Early morning plans? What do you have going on?

Matt: Just work stuff. I’ll text you later, okay?

You: Sure. Good luck with it.

Matt: Thanks. It was fun.

You stare at your phone screen, heart still pounding. Matt’s presence lingers in your room, his image imprinted in your mind. You can’t deny the chemistry, the attraction that crackles between you, but you decide not to respond. You have to keep him on his toes somehow, right? ***

One week later

The floors are sticky, even with your already wet boots from the snow outside against them as you walk into the bar. Some classic country music blasts as cowboy hats are tipped, giant belt buckles are moving, and beers are drunk. Many beers are drunk.

You shove your way through the sea of dancing bodies towards the bar, spotting a single empty worn-out barstool which you happily slide into. This specific bar has line dancing every weekend, but this Friday is their annual Christmas hoedown, which is basically just a fancy name for ‘get drunk in some maybe holiday themed western clothing and dance.’

You take a deep breath, inhaling the scent of beer, sweat, and a hint of pine from the Christmas decorations strewn about. The bar is a hive of activity, the kind that can either drown out your sorrows or amplify them, depending on your mood. Tonight, you're here for a distraction, and although you're alone, it's a way to escape the emotional rollercoaster that has been your life for the past few weeks.

Sliding onto the barstool, you wave at the bartender, a burly man with a Santa hat perched on his head. "Whiskey sour, please," you call out over the music. He nods and gets to work, mixing your drink with practiced ease.

As you wait, you can't help but scan the room, your eyes landing on groups of people laughing, talking, and dancing. It's comforting in a way, seeing others immersed in their own worlds, each person a small part of the larger tapestry of life. You sip your drink, the sharp tang of whiskey and lemon cutting through the haze of your thoughts.

"Hey there, mind if I join you?" a voice interrupts your musings. You turn to see a man with a friendly smile and an impressively large cowboy hat standing next to you, vaguely recognizing him, but not enough to put your finger on it.

You look the man up and down, not hesitating for long before replying, “You gonna buy me a drink?”

The man chuckles, tipping his hat back slightly to reveal a pair of twinkling blue eyes. "I guess I can manage that," he says with a grin. "What’ll it be?”

You raise an eyebrow, surprised at how easily you slip into the flirtation. "Whiskey sour."

He signals to the bartender, catching his attention immediately. “Another whiskey sour for the lady, and a beer for me.” As you wait, you take in his appearance more closely. He's tall, with broad shoulders and a rugged charm that fits perfectly in the country bar setting.

Soon enough, your drinks arrive, and as the handsome cowboy slides the drink towards you, you're already distracted by the hockey game on the TV. The Oilers are on tonight, and although you're a Calgary native, the Flames never really struck you like Edmonton did.

The cowboy seems to notice your distraction, glancing up at the screen to see what caught your attention. "Hockey fan?" he asks, leaning a bit closer to you, his voice cutting through the loud country music.

You nod, taking a sip of your drink. “Yeah, what about you?” you ask as the cowboy takes a seat beside you.

Handsome Cowboy leans his elbow on the counter, bringing his beer to his lips before meeting your eyes. "You could say I dabble," he offers.

You cock your head, confused but deciding to trudge on. “You got a name?”

The man’s eyes widen as he glances away for a moment, only coming back to meet your gaze with less confidence than he initially had. “Chucky. The name’s Chucky.”

You raise an eyebrow, taking another sip of your drink as you study the man once again. “Chucky? Like that possessed doll?”

Chucky chuckles at your remark, a deep, throaty sound that sends a flutter through your stomach, “Sure, you could say that,” he replies, tapping his fingers on the bar, “Hopefully not as creepy though.”

“Not creepy,” you start, looking back up at the TV, “Just not really my type.”

Chucky clutches his chest dramatically as he laughs, “Ouch, you wound me,” he says before gesturing to the TV, “Well, what if I told you my type isn’t a girl who’s an Oilers fan?”

You purse your lips, turning back to Chucky and crossing your arms. “What’s your type, then?” you question.

"I like a woman who enjoys being spoiled," Chucky says, his voice growing huskier. "Someone who loves the feel of strong hands on her body, who appreciates a man who knows how to treat her right."

You roll your eyes. “What a charmer,” you offer, although you’re stuck staring at him, your heart skipping a beat at his boldness. This conversation is moving fast, yet you find yourself unable to look away. "And you think you're that man?" you ask, arching an eyebrow in challenge.

Chucky leans in closer, his breath warm against your ear. "I know I am," he whispers, the confidence in his voice sending a shiver down your spine. "But that's something you'll have to discover for yourself."

He pulls away slightly, his crooked teeth formed into a knowing smile as he tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear. A flush creeps up your neck, your heartbeat quickening. The thrill of the exchange, the hint of danger in his confidence—it's a potent mix, drawing you in despite your better judgment. “How do I find out?” you breathe, your voice shaky.

Chucky's eyes sparkle with mischief as he leans back slightly, taking a slow sip of his beer before responding. The noise of the bar fades into the background as his gaze locks onto yours, his expression serious yet playful. “Oh, so I am your type?”

"I didn't say that," you reply with a smirk, keeping your tone light despite the heat rising in your cheeks. "But you seem awfully sure of yourself."

Chucky's smile widens, his eyes never leaving yours as he leans back against the bar, his posture relaxed yet undeniably confident. "I've been around long enough to know what I want," he admits, his voice low and gravelly. "And I know how to make sure a pretty girl like you enjoys herself."

Your breath hitches at his words, your heart continuing its erratic rhythm as you look into his eyes. Weirdly enough, you sort of feel a little guilty for replacing the mystery man on your phone, but that doesn’t even begin to overpower the strong attraction you feel for the man in front of you. “Can I take you up on that?” you ask.

Chucky's grin widens, clearly pleased with your response. He leans in closer, his voice dropping to a husky whisper that sends a shiver down your spine. "Oh, sweetheart, you've already taken me up on it by sitting here with me." His gaze flickers with a mixture of amusement and something deeper, more intense as if he knows exactly the effect he's having on you.

You swallow hard, your pulse racing as you meet his intense gaze. The noise of the bar seems to fade into the background, leaving just the two of you in a bubble of charged anticipation. Chucky reaches out, his hand brushing against yours on the bar top. His touch is electric, sending a jolt of awareness through you. “What d’ya say we dance?”

Your eyes widen as you look at his hand on top of yours, calloused fingertips brushing gentle circles. “I’m not really a good dancer,” you admit, your voice small.

Chucky chuckles softly, his thumb still lightly tracing patterns on the back of your hand. "Don't worry about that, darlin'. Ain't nobody here judging your dancing skills tonight." He leans closer, his voice a low murmur in your ear. "Just relax and let me lead."

You think it's weird he's talking like that even though his accent is city-like, but before you can protest or agree, he slides off the barstool with an easy grace, extending his hand towards you. The invitation hangs between you, laden with unspoken promises and the allure of something new and exciting. You hesitate for only a moment, then place your hand in his, feeling the warmth and strength of his grip.

As he leads you onto the dance floor, the crowd seems to part effortlessly, creating a small pocket of space just for the two of you. The music shifts to a slower tempo, a country ballad that echoes through the dimly lit bar. Chucky pulls you close, his other hand settling firmly at the small of your back, guiding you in gentle sways to the rhythm of the song. Despite your initial hesitation, you soon fall into sync with him, allowing yourself to be swept away by the rhythm and the warmth of his presence.

The other dancers around you blur into the background as you focus on Chucky's steady gaze, his blue eyes holding a magnetic intensity that sends a thrill through you. With each sway and turn, the space between you seems to shrink, the attraction between you palpable in the air.

As the song draws to a close, Chucky doesn't release you. Instead, he holds you even closer, his cheek brushing against yours as he whispers softly in your ear. "You're a natural," he murmurs, his voice sending a shiver down your spine.

You catch your breath at Chucky's whispered compliment, feeling a rush of warmth spread through you at his closeness. His breath against your ear sends a tingling sensation down your spine, and you can't deny the thrill of being held so intimately by this charming stranger. "Thank you," you manage to murmur back, your voice barely above a whisper. Despite the dim lighting and the pulsing music around you, it feels as if there are only the two of you in that moment, cocooned in your own private world.

Chucky's hand remains at the small of your back, his touch reassuring yet tinged with a subtle electricity that seems to ignite every nerve ending in your body. His presence is magnetic, drawing you closer with each passing second, and you find yourself unable to look away from his captivating blue eyes.

"I could dance with you all night," Chucky admits, his voice low and husky. He's about to say something else, only to suddenly stop and reach into the back pocket of his worn-out jeans, pulling out his buzzing phone while keeping an arm snaked around your waist. “Sorry, doll, I’ve gotta take this.”

Before you can protest or even get a word out, he has disappeared into the crowd, and your body is suddenly at a loss for his touch. You stand there for a moment, slightly dazed by Chucky's abrupt departure. The lingering warmth of his touch, his hand on your back, and the intoxicating thrill of the dance still pulse through you, leaving you with a mix of confusion and anticipation.

As you scan the crowded bar, you catch glimpses of familiar faces and strangers alike, each lost in their own conversations and revelries. The music continues to throb in the background, a steady rhythm that seems to echo the beat of your racing heart.

Time passes painfully slow as you wait, and wait, and wait.

Until he doesn’t come back. *** Another week later... It's two days before Christmas, Christmas Eve Eve as you and your family lovingly call it, and you find yourself alone. The cityscape outside your window is already cloaked in a soft blanket of snow, the streetlights casting a golden glow on the flakes as they drift lazily to the ground. It's already eight pm, a time when you'd typically not be alone. However, last year your loved ones decided to take a leap of faith and move an hour out of Calgary, so regular visits aren't really a thing anymore. But you're planning to make the drive out tomorrow and spend the night for Christmas.

You stand in your apartment, the sticky bits on the bottom of your fuzzy socks squeaking against the shiny hardwood floor as you look around the living area. You haven't told anybody yet, but you're moving as soon as your semester ends, transferring to Toronto where you'll finish school and hopefully live a new, better life. Although you love Calgary, lately everything around you radiates hurt. Boxes are strewn around, a messy scrawl in Sharpie on them identifying items from various rooms. The living room, once a cozy haven, now feels like a cardboard maze, each box a reminder of your impending departure.

With a sigh, you open the cabinet above your fridge, taking out a half-empty bottle of rosé that you bought earlier that week. It's a cheap, screw-top bottle, but admittedly you needed it to get you through all the stress of your exams. Now that they're over, you can finish it without worrying about waking up hungover. The bottle feels cool in your hand, a small comfort in the midst of your turmoil.

You take a wine glass out of a different cabinet and twist the cap once before your phone suddenly buzzes. You grab it, wondering who could be texting you at this time.

Matt: Hey, can I call you?

Your heart skips a beat as you read Matt's message. You've been talking to him non-stop, whether that just be texting, or calling, or sexting - every waking moment, besides when he had his weird work stints, you were talking to him. You hesitate for a moment, glancing around your half-packed apartment, the wine glass in your hand a stark reminder of your current solitude.

You: Sure, give me a sec.

Quickly setting the bottle of rosé and the glass on the counter, you walk over to the couch and settle in. You take a moment to steady your nerves, then press the call button when his name pops up on the screen.

The phone rings only once before he picks up. "Hey," Matt's voice comes through, warm and familiar.

"Hey," you reply, trying to keep your voice steady. "It's been a while."

"Yeah, sorry about that," he says, sounding genuinely apologetic. "What are you up to?"

Your eyes dart to the kitchen island where the bottle of wine is waiting, and then around at the chaotic mess of the room before responding, "Nothing in particular. You?"

Matt's chuckle comes through the line, a warm, comforting sound that makes you smile despite the mess around you. "Just chilling. Wanted to check up on you. Need any compliments yet?"

You chuckle softly, feeling warmth spread through you at his playful tone. "Maybe a few wouldn't hurt," you reply, leaning back into the couch and tucking your legs beneath you. "It's been a crazy week."

Matt's voice softens, taking on a teasing tone. "Well, I could start by saying that I still can't get over how gorgeous you looked in that photo you sent me. And if you're half as funny and smart in person as you are over text, then I'm in real trouble."

He pauses, and you hear a slight hum come from him. "Crazy good or crazy bad?" he continues, this time his voice carrying genuine concern.

"A bit of both," you admit, glancing around at the half-packed boxes. "Exams are over, but I'm in the middle of packing up my life. Moving to Toronto next semester."

There's a pause on the other end, and you wonder if you've shared too much too soon. "Wow, that's a big change," Matt finally says. "Why Toronto?"

You sigh, the weight of the decision pressing on you. "I just need a fresh start. Calgary's been... difficult lately. Too many memories, too much heartache. I think a change of scenery will do me good."

"I get that," Matt says softly. "Um, speaking of that, I was gonna ask whereabouts in Calgary you are?"

You hesitate for a moment, then decide to be honest. "I live near downtown, not too far from the river. Why?"

There's a brief pause on Matt's end, and you can almost hear him thinking. "You free right now?"

Your pulse quickens at Matt's unexpected question. The idea of meeting him in person, after all the teasing texts and late-night conversations, is both thrilling and nerve-wracking. "Yeah, I am, why?" you say, wanting to get a little more information out of him.

"Well," he starts, and you hear rustling on his end, "As much as I enjoy this anonymous text-flirting thing we've got going on, I would love to see you in person."

You furrow your eyebrows, wondering if this is going where you think it is. "And… do what?" you ask, deciding to be straightforward with him. "Like, hook up?"

"No!" Matt says quickly, almost panicked. "I-I mean, if you want to, I wouldn't mind," he concedes, his tone softer. "But I had something else in mind."

Your curiosity is piqued, and you lean forward slightly, eager to hear what Matt has in mind. "Oh? And what might that be?" you ask, a smile tugging at your lips.

Matt's voice softens, taking on a tone that is both sincere and slightly hesitant. "You got ice skates?"

You blink in surprise at Matt's question, the unexpected turn catching you off guard. Ice skates? You haven't been ice skating in ages, not since you were a kid. But there's something oddly charming about Matt's suggestion, a whimsical twist in contrast to the flirtatious banter you've shared so far.

"Uh, yeah, I think I have a pair somewhere," you reply, scanning your cluttered apartment mentally to remember where they might be buried. "Why do you ask?"

Matt's voice is shaky, almost nervous as he responds, "Well, I don't know how to convince you that I won't kill you, but I know a nice outdoor rink on the west side."

You find yourself grinning ear-to-ear, even though the concern of him maybe kidnapping you is in the back of your head. "Are you asking me on a date?" you say, your tone giddy from the smile that won't seem to fade off your face.

Matt chuckles nervously on the other end of the line, his voice slightly muffled as if he were pacing or moving around. "Yeah, I guess I am," he admits, his tone laced with a mix of excitement and uncertainty. "I mean, if you're up for it. Just thought it'd be nice to actually meet in person, you know?"

Your heart flutters at Matt's sincerity, the nervous edge in his voice endearing rather than off-putting. Despite the initial shock of his unexpected request, you find yourself warming to the idea of meeting him face-to-face. "Okay," you agree, "But I'm sharing my location with everyone in my immediate family, just in case you kidnap me."

Matt lets out a nervous huff of air. "And that's completely understandable!" he says, his voice cracking slightly. "I mean, who am I, really? I could totally be…" He trails off, and you hear a thud. "Fuck, you're kidding, aren't you?"

You chuckle softly at Matt's flustered response, finding his nervousness strangely endearing. "Relax, Matt," you reassure him, amusement evident in your voice. "I'm just messing with you. I trust you enough to meet up."

There's a moment of silence on the other end, followed by a relieved sigh from Matt. "Okay, good," he replies, his voice steadier now. "I promise I'm not a serial killer or anything. Just a guy who wants to take you ice skating." He pauses, seeming to debate something. "I can… pick you up if you want?"

You hesitate for a moment, weighing the offer in your mind. It's a bold move, letting him pick you up, especially since you haven't even seen his face yet. But something about Matt's voice, his nervous excitement mixed with genuine sincerity, makes you feel oddly reassured.

"Sure," you reply, trying to sound nonchalant despite the flutter of anticipation in your chest. "I'll send you my address."

After exchanging a few more logistical details and promising to text when you're ready, you end the call with Matt. Sitting back on your couch, you stare at your phone for a moment, the reality of what you've just agreed to sinking in. Meeting Matt in person feels like a leap into the unknown, a step away from the safe confines of text messages and phone calls.

With a mix of excitement and nerves, you head to your bedroom to find your ice skates. As you rummage through your closet, you can't help but smile at the thought of what the evening might bring. Ice skating under the stars with Matt—whether it turns out to be magical or not, it's definitely going to be memorable.

Finding your skates buried under a pile of old clothes, you pull them out and place them by the door. You quickly freshen up, change into something warmer, and glance at yourself in the mirror, wondering what Matt will think when he finally sees you in person. Your reflection shows a mix of anticipation and nervousness, your cheeks slightly flushed with the excitement of the evening ahead.

After a deep breath to steady your nerves, you grab your coat and keys and send a quick text to Matt that you're ready. By the time you hear a knock on your door later that evening, you're both nervous and eager. Opening the door, you're greeted by a man. A man with broad shoulders, frizzy brown curls, and dark blue eyes. A man that you've definitely met before.

You look up at him, your eyes wide. “Chucky?” you drawl out, your tone unsure.

Chucky/Matt (?) stands there in the doorway, a sheepish grin spreading across his face as he shifts his weight nervously from one foot to the other. His eyes meet yours, and for a moment, neither of you speaks. The realization slowly dawns on you – Matt is Chucky, the charming cowboy from the bar, the man who whisked you onto the dance floor and left you literally aching for his touch.

Matt shifts uncomfortably under your gaze, his sheepish grin faltering slightly. "Hey," he finally says, his voice a mixture of nerves and apology. "Surprise?"

You blink, trying to process the revelation. "You're Matt?" you ask, the realization sinking in. "You're Chucky?"

Matt nods slowly, his gaze never leaving yours. “Yeah, look, I probably should’ve been upfront,” he starts, leaning against your doorframe, “But when I saw you at the bar, I couldn’t help keeping the whole mystery thing going.”

You nod slowly, your mind racing with a mix of emotions. Part of you feels a bit betrayed by the secrecy, but another part can't deny the attraction and connection you've felt with Matt, both as Chucky and as himself. "I guess I understand," you say finally, your voice softening. "But why the cowboy persona?"

Matt chuckles nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. "I don't know, I guess I thought it added to the charm," he admits, looking somewhat sheepish. "Plus, it was fun to see where it would lead. Clearly, it led to this." He glances away for a moment, out towards the hallway before meeting your gaze again.

You furrow your brow as you stare at the man before you. Chucky was still a weird name to you, and Matt looked so much more casual than Chucky, even though they’re the same person—dressed in a hoodie and sweatpants with a warm winter coat on top. His curls stick out of the beanie he's wearing which reads ‘Calgary Flames Hockey Club’.

Matt gives you a nervous smile, clearly awaiting your reaction as you stare at the Calgary Flames logo on his beanie, then back at his face. It's surreal to see the man who swept you off your feet as Chucky now standing before you in casual attire, looking more like a regular guy than the charming cowboy from the bar. The pieces of the puzzle are falling into place, but there's still a lingering sense of disbelief.

"You're Matthew Tkachuk," you say slowly, more as a statement of realization than a question.

Matt raises his eyebrows, then nods. “Is that a bad thing?” he questions.

It isn’t, but you're in complete shock. "You're Matthew Tkachuk," you repeat, this time with a hint of disbelief and curiosity. "The hockey player?"

Matt nods again, his expression holding a hint of skepticism. “Yes? And, yeah, the reason why I left that night is because my agent needed to talk contract stuff with me.”

You take a step back, your mind racing. Matthew Tkachuk, the star winger for the Calgary Flames, stands before you, in the flesh, looking every bit like a regular guy out of his hockey gear. The realization sends a flurry of thoughts through your head—how could this be happening?

“There’s no way… I didn’t recognize you,” you murmur, looking up at him wide-eyed, “Didn’t I literally rave about the Oilers to you too?” You continue ranting, shifting your weight from foot to foot. “Holy shit, how much did I embarrass myself in front of a professional athlete?”

Matt cocks his head, “Embarrass yourself? Trust me, you’re doing just fine,” he starts, studying your face intently, “Can you promise me something, though?”

Matt's gentle reassurance and the warmth in his eyes help ease some of your embarrassment, though the shock of discovering his true identity still lingers. You take a deep breath, trying to regain your composure.

"What is it?" you ask cautiously, curious about what Matt could possibly want from you now.

He smiles softly, a hint of amusement flickering in his eyes. “Treat me like a normal guy? Let’s just have fun tonight. I’m not Matthew Tkachuk, hockey player, or Chucky, sexy cowboy, I’m just… Matt.”

You nod slowly, still processing the surreal turn of events. "Okay, Matt," you say, a small smile tugging at your lips. "Let's just have fun tonight."

Matt's smile widens, his relief palpable. "Great," he says warmly, stepping closer to you. "Ice skating under the stars, just two regular people enjoying each other's company." ---

The outdoor rink is serene when you arrive, bathed in the soft, ethereal glow of the overhead lights. The ice shimmers under the illumination, casting a magical reflection. As you lace up your skates, Matt's touch is gentle and reassuring as he helps adjust them. The crisp night air fills your lungs with each breath, carrying the scent of pine and fresh snow.

Once on the ice, Matt moves with effortless grace, gliding backward with a practiced ease that makes it look like he's dancing on the frozen surface. His beckoning smile is both inviting and encouraging, urging you to join him.

You laugh nervously, feeling the unfamiliar wobble beneath your feet as you find your balance. "I haven't done this in years," you admit, a mix of excitement and apprehension making your voice tremble slightly. Matt's grin widens as he skates closer, his eyes sparkling with a playful light. "Don't worry, I've got you," he assures you, holding out a steady hand. "Just take it slow and enjoy the glide."

You tentatively take Matt's hand, the warmth of his palm a comforting contrast to the chill in the air. His guidance is steady, and soon, you begin to relax into the rhythm of skating. The cold air brushes against your cheeks, crisp and invigorating, carrying the faint scent of winter and the promise of a memorable night.

Under the canopy of stars, the night feels almost enchanted. The soft swish of skates on ice echoes around you, blending harmoniously with the quiet whispers of the winter breeze. Matt leads you in gentle circles, his movements smooth and fluid, occasionally pulling you closer for a playful spin or to steady you whenever you stumble.

As you skate, you find yourself holding both of his hands, his touch both firm and gentle as he guides you backward. His gaze never leaves yours, creating an unspoken connection that makes you feel both vulnerable and safe. Matt pulls you gently into a spin, his hand firm and steady at your waist. For a moment, the world around you blurs, leaving only the sensation of movement and the comforting warmth of Matt's touch. The night air feels crisp against your cheeks, heightening your senses and adding to the enchantment of the moment.

"See? You've got the hang of it," Matt says with a grin, bringing you to a stop in the center of the rink. "You're a natural."

You laugh, a genuine smile spreading across your face. "Thanks to your expert coaching," you reply, teasing him lightly. "I never expected my evening to turn out like this. I mean, I was ready to drink half a bottle of wine on my own."

Matt chuckles, his eyes crinkling at the corners with amusement. "Neither did I," he admits, his tone earnest. "But I'm glad it did. It's nice to just... be myself for a change."

You nod in understanding, appreciating the vulnerability he shows in sharing that sentiment. "I can imagine," you say softly, leaning into him. "So, what's it like being a professional hockey player?"

Matt shrugs, his expression thoughtful. "It's a lot of pressure sometimes," he confesses. "But I love what I do. Hockey's been my passion since I was a kid."

“I get it,” you reply, your hands at the nape of his neck toying with the few stray curls, “Just keep being yourself, okay?”

Matt nods, and for a moment, all you can hear is his uneven breathing, the cool air making it visible. He swallows hard, not offering anything else as he just… looks at you. No words needed, just that look in his eyes, and you were set, although, you still probed him. “What is it?” you say, softly.

"I've been thinking about kissing you," Matt admits, his eyes still very much locked on yours, although they flicker to your mouth for a second. "I want to see if your lips are as soft as they look in your pictures."

Your heart skips a beat at Matt's confession, his words sending a rush of warmth through you. His gaze holds yours with an intensity that makes your breath catch in your throat. The quiet hum of the night around you seems to fade into the background, leaving only the anticipation of what could happen next.

"You do?" you reply softly, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness at the thought of kissing him. Despite the unexpected turn of events and Matt's celebrity status, there is an undeniable chemistry between you, a connection that has been building throughout the evening.

Matt nods slowly, his expression earnest yet tinged with a hint of uncertainty. "Yeah," he murmurs, his voice low and intimate. "If you're okay with it, of course."

A smile plays at your lips as you lean closer to him, closing the gap between you. "I think I'd like that," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

Without another word, Matt gently cups your face in his hands, his touch surprisingly tender. His lips meet yours in a soft, hesitant kiss, testing the waters. The sensation of his lips against yours sends a shiver down your spine, igniting a spark of desire that seems to pulse between you.

The kiss deepens as you respond eagerly, your hands finding their way to his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your touch. Matt pulls you closer, his arms wrapping around you in a warm embrace as the world around you fades into the background.

Only when you feel a cool, wetness on your nose do you pull away, keeping Matt close and looking up to see that it had started snowing. The snowflakes float gently down around you, casting a magical aura over the quiet rink. Matt's arms remain around you, his gaze soft as he brushes a snowflake from your nose with a gentle smile.

"It's snowing," you murmur, feeling the cool touch of the flakes against your cheeks. The winter scene adds to the enchantment of the moment, making it feel like something out of a romantic movie.

Matt chuckles softly, his breath forming a small cloud in the chilly air. "Perfect timing," he replies, his voice low and warm. "It's like nature's way of adding a touch of magic to tonight."

You can't help but smile back at him, feeling a rush of warmth despite the cold around you. The kiss has deepened your connection, and now, standing in Matt's arms with snow falling around you, it feels like the world has slowed down just for the two of you.

As the snow continues to fall gently around you, Matt holds you close, his arms wrapped securely around your waist. The quiet intimacy of the moment is punctuated only by the soft rustling of snowflakes and the distant hum of the city beyond the rink. Time seems to stand still as you look up at him, his eyes reflecting the warmth and affection he feels.

"You know," Matt says softly, brushing a stray snowflake from your cheek, "I didn't expect tonight to turn out like this, but I'm really glad it did."

You smile up at him, feeling a surge of gratitude for the unexpected connection you have found. "Me too," you reply honestly, reaching up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "It's been... surprisingly wonderful."

Matt nods, his gaze lingering on your face. "I'm glad I got the chance to meet you," he admits, his voice tinged with sincerity. "Even if it started off a bit... unconventional."

You chuckle softly, remembering your initial encounter with "Chucky" at the bar, and the whole number neighbour gag. "Unconventional is one way to put it," you agree, your tone light. "But it definitely made for an interesting story."

Matt grins, the playful glint returning to his eyes. "A story I hope we can continue," he says, his fingers tracing patterns on your lower back. "Maybe without the mystery personas next time."

You lean into his touch, enjoying the warmth of his hands against your skin. "I'd like that," you reply softly, feeling a sense of comfort and ease in his presence. "No more secrets, just... us."

"Us," Matt repeats, his voice almost a whisper as he leans in closer. "I like the sound of that."

The snowfall around you intensifies slightly, creating a picturesque backdrop for the moment. You find yourself lost in Matt's eyes, the world around you fading away as he gently brushes his lips against yours once more. This time, the kiss is filled with a quiet tenderness, a silent promise of things yet to come.

When you finally pull away, a contented smile plays on your lips. Matt rests his forehead against yours, his arms still around you as if he never wants to let go.

“Us and the snow falling.” ***

EPILOGUE

You never ended up leaving Calgary. After your relationship grew with Matthew as the flowers grew in the spring, you found your love in the city again, not just with him, but with yourself, too. 

Eventually, Matthew got traded, to Florida of all places, and the first thing he did was ask you to come with him. At first, you were unsure - you didn’t want to leave your hometown. So, you guys tried long distance for a bit, just until you found your footing in creating your own small business, and eventually moved there with him. Miami brought a new chapter in your life, one that you wanted in the first place, but this time around, you were secure in yourself and your relationship.

And that’s how you found yourself right by the glass at Amerant Bank Arena. It was game seven of the Stanley Cup Final where your, now husband, Matthew, would play against your childhood team for the biggest honour in his sport. Gently, you held up your baby girl, adorning sound-isolating headphones, and of course, a tiny Tkachuk jersey against the glass as Matthew skated over during warmups. He leaned in close to the glass, pressing a gloved hand against it as he mouthed, "I love you" to both of you. Your daughter giggled, her eyes wide with excitement as she watched her dad, scruffy playoff beard and all, skate effortlessly on the ice. You couldn't help but smile, feeling a swell of pride and love for the man who had become not just your husband but your partner in every sense of the word.

The game was intense, and, admittedly, you wouldn’t really mind if the Oilers had won, but it was all eyes on Matthew and the Panthers as they gave it their all. 

Pandemonium erupted in the arena as the final buzzer sounded, and the Panthers had won. Players flooded onto the ice, celebrating their hard-earned victory. Amidst the sea of cheers and applause afterward, the families were let onto the ice, and Matthew made his way to where you stood, his eyes shining with happiness and disbelief.

He embraced you tightly, lifting your daughter into his arms as he kissed both of you, his heart overflowing with love and gratitude. "We did it," he whispered.

You smiled up at him, tears of joy in your eyes. "You did it," you corrected gently, knowing how much this moment meant to him and to your family. Because this was it. He was it.

[daenysx]

as a person who studies out of town, this was a little triggering for me to write lol. i hope you like it, i tried to do my best with reflecting all the emotions they feel. <3

requests are open!!

my masterlist

missing his sweet baby

your voice sounds sad and modern!aemond is quick to leave everything behind just to make you smile.nsfw.

it's too hard to miss someone. the feeling crawls in your heart like a heavy burden, you don't know how to carry it. it's because of him.

"i miss you. please, call me."

you leave a message to him with teary eyes.

aemond targaryen is the man of your dreams. he came into your life and shattered your heart for any other person who tries to have it. your heart belongs to him, you had accepted this a long time ago.

you are far away. this is only for six months, you are studying for your dreams. at first it was harder to be away from him, to get used to a new place and a new school. you tried to stay strong against the desire to go back and see him. aemond always supports you, keeps reminding you that this is only for six months and then it will be over. still, the amount of time you spend away from him burns you inside.

three months passed and you got used to it a little. focusing on your studies helped a lot, talking to aemond at least three times a day helped as well. he is working at his family's company and he is quite busy. he does anything to be successful and worthy, you know it must be hard for him. you wish to be with him when he has difficult time with all those bad feelings but there are still three months for you to go back.

you can't stop crying today. all you want to do is to crawl into aemond's arms and bury your face to his neck. he is not here, he is busy to call you back. you feel your heart clench painfully. today, you don't really feel like doing anything, there is no class or assignment to focus on. you are free and sad, sitting in your bed.

the city you now live in is beautiful. your life is the life you always want, you work for your dream career and you have plenty of new friends. the only thing missing is him.

your phone rings, his name is on the screen. you brush your tears away, try to clear your throat for a better voice and slide your finger on the screen.

"hey."

"my love? sorry, there was a meeting, i couldn't answer the phone."

"that's okay. how are you?" you ask, try to keep your voice steady.

"i'm fine, baby. how about you, hmm? don't you have any class today?" aemond asks.

"no, i'm free today. just staying in bed, doing nothing."

"hmm, that's good. you needed to rest."

his voice sounds like he still has a lot of things to do and talks to you at the same time when he works.

"we can talk later if you want. you are still at work, i don't want to take your time." you wonder if you sound sad because you can't control your voice this time.

you hear him chuckle on the other side. "please take my time. talking to you is the most important part of my day, okay? now, tell me how was your study group yesterday, anything new?"

you start telling him about the study group but then you hear another voice on the phone. "mr.targaryen, there is an emergency-"

aemond scoffs. "i'm sorry, sweetheart. i'll call you back."

"that's fine, i love you." you can't help your voice shaking this time. he says he loves you and hangs up.

you burst into tears once more. the crying doesn't stop, you quit trying. you stay in bed for hours, sleeping and crying. the emotions overwhelm you and you just give in. there is no point anyway. you close your eyes after a while and have a restless sleep.

you wake up a few hours later, the room is dark now. you feel extremely tired and your head is empty. you are hungry but you don't want to eat anything, instead you decide to have some coffee.

you drag yourself to bathroom first. you wash your face with cold water, hoping for some relief. then you go to kitchen and make a cup of coffee. you clean the little mess you made in kitchen and hear the doorbell ring as you reach for your cup.

you frown slightly, and wondering who that might be. you reach for the doorknob and open the door.

aemond is standing right there.

your mouth falls open. your sleepy brain can't process the fact that he is here. he gives you a few seconds, a happy expression on his face.

he opens his arms for you and you jump right into them. you wrap your arms around him like a koala and bury your face to his neck. his arms instantly reaches to your waist, holding you close. you feel his lips on your hair and you start crying again.

"shh, don't cry baby. i'm right here. oh, my sweet baby."

he cups your cheeks and presses a slow kiss on your lips. you hold his hand and lead him to your room, closing the door. he puts his bag on the floor and looks at your room.

"looks like someone here had a little crisis, hmm? why didn't you tell me you feel bad?"

you look at his face with shy eyes. "i didn't want to upset you, you are already too busy. i don't want you to worry over me."

he shakes his head. "i can't believe you think like this. nothing i do in that company worths more than you, okay? you should tell me about your feelings so that i can be with you, my love."

you kiss him with tears. you miss him too much, it still doesn't feel real. for three months, both of you never had the right time to fly and see each other, always waiting for the end of six months for your sweet union. the moment he heard your shaky voice and worried tone, he couldn't stay there. that was too much to deal with.

he keeps kissing you until he is longing for air. you lead him to your bed, tearing off his clothes desperately. "calm down, baby. i'm here, i'm right here. let me take care of you, please."

he takes off the rest of his clothes and helps you out of the shirt you wear. his shirt. you take off your knee socks as well and stay only in your panties.

he looks at you for a moment. "you have no idea how much i missed you. you have no idea what you do to me. i would leave everything and go to the end of the world with you just to put a smile on your pretty face."

you open your arms for him and he leans into you. he brushes kisses on your soft breasts and the spot between them. your neck crave his attention and he is quick to give it to you. he sucks and bruises, then softens his pressures with kisses. you become a whimpering mess under him quickly.

"it looks like you missed me, too. is that right, sweetheart?"

you nod. "yes, yes, i missed you so much. so much, aemond."

he chuckles. "it's fine. i'm here now and i will take care of you."

he kisses your lips and you kiss him back. 3 months of missing and longing for each other finally shows itself physically. your fingers travel in his hair, his beautiful hair. his hands are on your waist slowly reaches to your panties.

"let's take this off, hmm?" he smiles as you move your hips. "there you go."

he is painfully hard but he doesn't care. he has to take care of you first.

"aemond, i need you. now, please."

he nods. "would you like me to use my fingers, my love?"

you shake your head, "i can't take it, i just need you inside me. please, please."

he adjusts himself a little. "how were you taking care of yourself when i wasn't here, hmm?"

you show him your hand, playfully. "my fingers."

he kisses your hand. "and were they enough?"

you shake your head. "no, never enough. not like you."

"so, my sweet baby deserves a good orgasm, hmm? i think we can do that."

he slowly pushes himself to your entrance. you are already soaked for him, your muscles painfully throb around his length. he is inside you, holding the flesh of your thighs. he waits a little for you to get used to him. three months of agony and now he has you. he kisses your lips and starts moving when you nod approvingly.

he quickly finds a strong pace. his long fingers stroke your swollen clit. he loves hearing your moans, your closed eyes and messy hair. fuck, he missed the image too much, he is not gonna last.

"aemond, hmm, so close- so clos-"

he moves a little faster. "me too, baby. don't hold back, i need you to come with me."

your first round ends with his skilled fingers applying the right amount of pleasure on your clit and your walls clenching around him. he comes inside you with a deep moan and you arch your back as you find relief.

he stays inside of you. you look mesmerising like this under him, all those emotions you feel make themselves visible on your face. he kisses your lips and moves your hair from your face.

"are you alright?" he asks.

"mm-hmm. can we do that again?"

he chuckles. "don't worry babygirl. we are not done yet."

after your breathing turns steady, he brings his fingers on your cunt. the mix of your liquids keeps you wet. he quickly puts one finger in, his thumb on your clit. he pushes his second finger in as you try to move your hips.

his fingertips touch your g-spot suddenly and you scream his name. your fingers are not enough for you to reach there and when his fingers make a great job at finding and rubbing it, you feel like you'll cry.

"oh, my sweet baby. my beautiful baby, how much i've missed you."

he keeps moving his fingers and rubbing your clit. his free hand goes up to touch your hardened nipple. he squeezes the bud and you flinch. he touches the other one then, pressing and squeezing.

"i'm close, aemon-" you can't complete the sentence because he fastens his fingers in a way that makes you speechless. he is too strong, it's almost too much. you moan his name once more when you come, his fingers are soaked from your wetness. he waits for you to find your balance until he takes his fingers off.

he leaves the bed to get a clean towel from the bathroom. he helps you sit on the bed, your back against your pillows. he cleans the mess he made and brings you a cool glass of water.

"come on, drink it baby. i tire you too much, hmm? come on, finish the glass."

you drink all your water and look up to him. "i'm not tired. i feel perfect. i'm just- so happy that you're here."

"when i heard your voice and your words trying to hide your sadness from me, i left everything. i couldn't take it anymore, i had to see my girl."

you smile. "but you were too busy. what about the work?"

"i don't give a shit about the work now. they'll be fine without me."

"when will you go back?" you ask sadly. you need to know how much time you have with him.

"tomorrow night, baby."

you nod. "that's okay. it means we have time, right?"

"yes, and i will not leave until you have a smile on your face. a lasting smile, sweetheart. you don't know how much it hurts to be far away from you and knowing that you're sad."

you kiss him. "today was different. i've never been like this before."

he nods. "i know but you can't blame a guy for worrying over his sweet baby, hmm?"

you shake your head. "no, i guess i can't."

you pull him closer and he understands what you want to do. he leans his back to the headboard and makes room for you on his lap.

you adjust yourself comfortably on his lap and stroke his cock until it's hard for you. he watches the effect you have on him, he loves being undone because of you. you take him inside you and try to get used to the different angle. he holds your waist and guides you.

you start riding him, your fingers brush his chest and his neck. you move your hips in a certain rhytm. he tries to lift his hips and hits that sweet spot inside you. you moan, clenching around him. he encourages you to keep moving. you ride him through your third orgasm that night. that's not an unusual thing with aemond, you always manage to fuck each other until you are both satisfied. you come apart once more, this time it takes longer and your thighs are a little sore.

you lift your hips and take his weeping cock in your hand. you stroke him until he closes his eye, curves his mouth into a soft smile and comes on your fingers. you don't wait for your next move, take your fingers into your mouth and licking everything.

all he can do is to stay right there and watch you. he doesn't know how will he manage to leave tomorrow night when you look so perfect and when he is so in love.

after you are done, you put your head on his chest and pull the covers on both of you. he lays down and you bury your face to his neck, inhaling his scent. "i've dreamt about you holding me like this, all day long. almost afraid that i lost my mind."

"you are in the right place for your future, sweetheart. only three months more and you'll be back, remember? we can do that. we should do that."

you nod, wrap your arms closer. "i love you."

"i love you." he says it the second time for today but this time not on the other side of the phone, instead in the bed with you, holding you close.

"i think there is some wine in the kitchen. or we can drink coffee. oh god, i forgot to ask, are you hungry? i should've asked before i jump into your arms, i'm sorry." you say the last part teasingly.

"i'm not hungry. and you see, a man in the right mind always prefers you jumping into his arms before food."

"come on, that's too romantic even for you. let's stay in bed for a while, then we'll think of something."

he nods, kisses you hairline. you try not to think about the time he has to leave. you missed him too much and you deserve some good time with him instead of worrying and being sad.

aemond targaryen is the kind of man who would leave things behind just to see you smile. he takes care of your heart, supports you, and stays with you. your love for him feels overwhelming sometimes, how much more can you fall in love with him?

you press a kiss on his chest, ask him about his day. both of you know that you won't be sleeping tonight, it will be a night full of holding, kissing, talking, and touching each other. and it will be perfect.

[saigethearies]

his girl best friend

kiba x fem!reader

18+ MINORS DNI

contents/warnings: reader is a lil possessive, vaginal sex, daddy kink, voyuerism(?), dash of degradation, sorry hinata stans lol she’s a lil problematic in this, allusions to unfaithfulness (not with reader’s relationship)

you were not a huge fan of hinata hyuga.

when kiba had first introduced the two of you, you had thought she seemed like a shy sweetheart. she was friendly enough and a little less intimidating to talk to than kiba’s other longtime friend, shino aburame.

the fact the guy you were seeing had a close friendship with another girl didn’t bother you, either. you weren’t an insecure person, and kiba didn’t give you any reason to start feeling that way, either. besides, hinata was finally going on dates with the man she’d had a crush on for years, naruto uzumaki.

there was no reason to dislike her.

until there was.

it started when you and kiba made it official. you had watched him type something on his phone after the two of you got back from your date.

“whatcha doing?” you had asked him, sitting down on the couch next to him.

he gave you one of his signature grins. “just telling shino and hinata the good news.”

butterflies flittered around your stomach at the fact your new boyfriend was so proud to have you that he wanted to tell his friends immediately.

he leaned in to give you a quick peck on your lips. “i’m gonna go take akamaru out real quick. you stay in here though, it’s dark out.”

“okay,” you replied. “don’t be too long!”

he left the room, and you glanced to see that he’d left his phone. message notifications displayed on the screen, and you leaned in to take a closer peek.

shino: congratulations, kiba. she seems very good for you.

that made you smile. but the text you saw next didn’t.

hinata: don’t you think it’s a little soon for the two of you to become official?

too soon? you’d known kiba since last year, and the two of you had been romantically linked for a solid month now. your relationship didn’t feel rushed at all, and who was she to judge? not everyone has to lurk on their crush for years before finally talking to them.

you chalked it up to her being jealous that her and naruto didn’t have a label yet while you and kiba did. still, her making negative remarks about your relationship that was only about two hours old left a bitter taste in your mouth.

everything seemed to go downhill from there.

she would practically ignore you whenever kiba brought you to a function. when you mentioned it to him, he said that she was just being shy as per usual. you would have taken his word for it, if it weren’t for the fact she was able to talk to you just fine before you became kiba’s girlfriend.

then there was the fact that when she wasn’t ignoring you, she was trying to best you in kiba 101.

“babe, i found out today one of my friends has an uncle who works at a jeep dealership,” you said to kiba at the kickback he had brought you to.

your boyfriend’s eyes sparkled. “no way.”

“what’s so special about that?” you heard hinata ask from across the table.

“because a wrangler is kiba’s dream car,” you replied.

hinata blinked. “no. his dream car is a camaro.”

you fought the urge to frown at her. was she seriously doing this right now? “it was a camaro, until he decided he wanted something that can off road.”

“she’s right,” kiba chimed in with a smile on his face, kissing the side of your head. “great memory, baby.”

you turned to meet his gaze and smiled back at him, the reflection in the window behind kiba giving you the perfect view of the eyeroll hinata gave your exchange.

your annoyance was finally coming to a crescendo when you started to catch her actually ogling your boyfriend.

she would practically be making fuck me eyes at kiba while standing right next to naruto, the guy who she’s supposed to be flirting with. you would feel bad for the blonde if it weren’t for the fact that he was too busy making fuck me eyes at sasuke uchiha to notice his date making fuck me eyes at her best friend.

you’d had enough.

hinata was supposed to be focusing on starting her own relationship. she’d also had plenty of opportunity to explore a possible romance with kiba, considering she’d known him for years before you even came into his life. it’s not like kiba would have rejected her, either. even though he’d never really had feelings for hinata like that (a fact shino had assured you of) she was still a pretty girl that he was close to. he probably would have been open to the idea. 

but no.

hinata decided that her friend getting into a happy relationship with another girl was the perfect time to start wanting him.

it wasn’t fair.

the worst part of all is that you didn’t want to tell kiba, who was oblivious to all of this. not because you were afraid that he wouldn’t believe you, but because you knew that he’d want to do something about it. his friends were important to him, but he wasn’t going to let anyone disrespect the boundaries of his relationship. it would impact his and hinata’s friendship in a very negative way, and you knew it would upset him.

thus, you figured you could try and resolve the problem on your own.

you were going to remind hinata hyuga of her place, and it sure as hell wasn’t in your boyfriend’s bed.

your plan fell into place on one of the trio’s game nights. kiba had hinata and shino come over every so often to play some classic board games, which was actually pretty wholesome when you ignore the whole part about hinata being after your boyfriend’s dick.

the girl in question usually got there about thirty minutes earlier than shino, probably so she could have a little window of time just her and kiba. this ended up working out for you, though.

because poor shino did not need to see what was about to happen.

all it took was an extra short pair of shorts, a bullshit excuse of you came over to find your sunglasses, and your boyfriend’s ever raging libido for your plan to kickstart.

“please, kiba, just really quick? we’ll be done before either of your friends even get here.”

he could never say no to you, not when you were being so cute and needy for him.

thus, that’s how hinata hyuga came to find you bouncing on kiba’s cock in the middle of his living room.

she stayed hidden around the corner leading to the hall, eyes blown open in shock as she watched your hips continue to slam down onto her best friend’s lap.

“fuck,” you moaned. “daddy, you feel so good.”

the brunette was canting his hips up to meet yours. “such a good little slut for me. you couldn’t wait until after my friends left, huh? wanted your daddy that bad.”

“yes!” you replied. “want you so bad.”

“it’s okay, princess, you have me.”

you hummed and leaned in for a sloppy kiss, kiba grabbing the back of your neck so he could deepen it. the sound of skin slapping against skin got louder as both of you increased the vigor in which you fucked one another.

you pulled away, a string of saliva connecting your mouth to his. you could still feel hinata’s eyes on the two of you, so it was time to go in for the kill.

“daddy,” you cooed at kiba. “tell me i’m yours.”

“you’re mine, baby. my pretty girl.”

you smiled. “m’your pretty girl?”

“mhm, my pretty girl and my favorite girl.”

you leaned into his neck so he couldn’t see the wicked smirk stretch across your face. you finally turned your head to the side, making direct eye contact with a still lingering hinata.

“i love you, daddy.”

“i love you too, princess. my one and only.”

at that you saw hinata turn on her heel and practically storm out of the house.

looks like she got the message.

[yorshie]

Hi there 😊 I saw ur request opened and wanted to see if I could request reader having a nightmare and they call the turtles (or one of them) in the middle of the night bc they’re too panicked and they try to help calm them down maybe over the phone or go to their place to help! Sorry for the long ask haha Thank you!!

Hello Nonnie! I'm finally (slowly. so painfully slowly) cleaning out my ask box and replying lol. I went with Leo for this one, simply because when I started writing his name just kinda popped up naturally.

Bayverse Leonardo x GN Reader, SFW

The whir of the ceiling fan woke you up. 

It was usually a comforting sound, but now, with the press of adrenaline against your chest and the echoes of the dream clinging to your skin like a fine sheen of oil, the creak of the paddles spinning overhead read as a threat to your muddled mind. 

You pulled the covers back, feet finding the cold floor and bringing a new shiver that informed you of the layer of sweat behind your knees, at your elbows, making your shirt stick to your spine in crinkly ridges where you’d tossed through the dream. Your heartbeat pounded at your temples, your jaw, relentless as it told you you had to run, had to hide, had to go.

The clock on your bedside table read 3:14 am. Too early to get up, to eat food to soothe the latent fear still in your stomach. But superstition had you moving, padding into the kitchen to pull a tortilla from the package left on the counter. You rolled the piece of bread up and shoved it halfway into your mouth, stopping at the bathroom on your way back to the warmth of the bed. 

The reflection greeting you over the mirror after you did your business looked sane, looked normal. Nothing to indicate the nightmare still haunted you, still peered over your shoulder, just waiting for you to fall back to sleep. You didn’t feel the phantom clawed hands reaching for your shoulders until your back hit the mattress, tortilla still shoved in one cheek, and the spinning ceiling fan was there once more to greet you.

You squinted, watching the paddles in the low light from the window. The dream was starting to fade, but it lingered like the curling, tacky edges of the vinyl tabletops in an old diner. Waiting to leave just a little residual glue on your skin, to follow you around.

You glanced at the clock again, contemplated staying up until the sun rose and could blanket out the hushed magic of the early morning, when your eyes snagged on your phone, lying crooked and part way in the opened drawer where it usually charged.

Your fingers found the familiar edges, pulled it across the bed towards you. There was a new message, from Blue, about thirty minutes ago. The notification extended a lifeline, a buoy to hold onto while the frigid waters of the dream still lapped at your consciousness.

Your thumb tapped the screen, slid open the message. 

He was home from patrol, wanted to let you know everything was fine, that he and his brothers had gotten home safe. The balloon of unnamed fear deflated just a touch in your chest, the unknown fear in the heartbeat at your temples tripping up in its terror before lessening just a touch. Like a ship sighted in a storm, you stared at the little blue heart attached to the last message, a wish for you to sleep well.

Without thinking, you hit the call button, bringing the device to the cradle of your ear and shoulder. The rings stretched out in front of you, one after another. You could almost imagine the boat getting further away, the line of safety attached to the buoy growing taunt…

“Hello?” Leo’s voice, soft and questioning on your name, like a light cascading from the boat, finding you immediately in the dark. His voice was a halo of safety as the captain turned the rudder and you were pulled in.

“Leo?” You confirmed, childishly, knowing his voice, but needing the confirmation to yourself as much as to let him know you were there. “Sorry, I uh, saw your message… had a bit of a nightmare, wanted to talk to you if that’s ok?”

And because it was Leo, because he never really stopped worrying,  he answered immediately, tone dipping a bit as he used the voice that meant he was processing intel. “Of course, are you ok? Do you need to talk about it?”

The concern, him using the ‘leader’ voice on you, brought a reflexive smile to your face. If you asked him, he’d be there in ten minutes, you knew, regardless if he was technically supposed to or not. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine, I promise. I just… needed to hear your voice.”

Leo exhaled, the sound a little staticy over the line, and you could almost picture the relief sliding the concern off his shoulders. “Do you need me to come to you?”

Heart in your throat, you let yourself have the imagined fantasy. His shadow at your window, his scales pressed up against your skin, entangled in the too small bed with you. His hands running through your hair, simply existing for a moment. 

But with that fantasy came the little bubble of reality. The way he’d watch the horizon, the gaps between the buildings outside your window for the first flicker of light. Always on a timetable, like Cinderella and her pumpkin coach, on the lookout for the danger of traveling back to the Lair with the sun always encroaching.

Reeling in the selfish desire, you spoke low, just for him. “No, I’m ok, it’s almost four already.” You rolled the tortilla to the other cheek, took another bite.

Leo must have heard the sound, because he chuckled softly. “Do you have a tortilla stuffed in your mouth right now?”

“Grandma’s superstition wearing off on me, I’m afraid.” You told him, honest, not fearing judgment from the turtle you’d gladly call your best friend.

“I like her recipe you made last summer, with the peppers and cheese.” He admitted, and you heard his words echo just a touch when he placed you on speaker, followed by the rustle of clothes and a long sigh. You knew what he was doing, getting ready for bed, likely folding his pants. You could close your eyes and imagine yourself there with him, beside him in his bed, maybe back against his headboard while he laid on his plastron, one arm hooked around your waist and a pillow half over your lap for his head…

“I’ll make it for you again this weekend, if you’d like.” You offered, letting the imagined scenarios soothe you, letting the lull of Leonardo wash away the tacky residue of the dream. You breathed in deeply, listening to him hum low on the other end of the phone. 

“Deal.” Leo agreed, and you just knew he was smiling in the dark of his room. Maybe that little dimple at the corner of his mouth was showing, maybe…

“Are you falling asleep on me?” He asked, voice soft, so soft. 

You murmured dissent, but he still chuckled, breath hitting the receiver once more in a familiar way. “Take the tortilla out of your mouth at least, darling. Text me when you wake up, alright?”

You murmured agreement, swallowing the last bite of gummy flatbread thickly. The waves rocked you gently, a tide of Leo’s even breaths in your ear, the mantra of his lungs working as a leading drum for your heartbeat to slow to. 

Before you dropped off, comforted in the buoy of your mind tied to safety, Leonardo murmured over the phone, “Love you, sweetheart. Goodnight.”

[sloth-babied]

Stay the Night

Shuri x POC reader

Summary: You’ve been keeping it a secret that Shuri’s been your muse for a lot of your music. When you decide to show her a song you’ve been working on, she starts to piece together who you’ve been writing about.

or

Reader is a musician who stubbornly denies to one of the smartest people on Earth that she isn’t your muse.

Contains: Shy reader, tension, and angst if you really squint. No use of y/n.

Word count: 1.8k

Notes: No, I am not dead! Just burnt out, yk how it is. But I had motivation to write this, so I really hope yall enjoy! Not my best work, but it’s something. And sorry for not being active. 

(Also I recommend listening to The Internet while reading just bc that’s what I listened to, hence the title lol)

Shuri stares at you as you adjust the headphones on her head, hyper aware of the proximity between the two of you. She only nods when you ask if she’s comfortable before the heel of your palm rests on the desk. Your finger hovers over the computer keyboard, reluctant to press play.

“It’s just a draft, so you know, lower your expectations.”

“Just play the song,” she laughs lightly, very much aware that this was a first draft from the numerous times you told her before even handing her your headphones.

You murmur a quick and sheepish, “Okay,” and click the spacebar. Her shoulders bounce, entertained by your apprehensiveness.

You deeply inhale as your heart starts beating faster, in contrast to Shuri who simply bops her head gently to the rhythm, the ball of her foot tapping the wooden floor.

You rarely showed anyone your early drafts, either out of worry in case they disliked what they heard, or if their enjoyment would jinx your chances of actually finishing the track. Yeah, you can be a bit superstitious—that Shuri knows with all the wood-knocking you’ve done around her.

Which is why it was uncharacteristic of you to show Shuri your latest project. 

It presented itself as an impulsive, “You wanna hear this new song I’m working on?” and you couldn’t take it back when you were met with an enthusiastic ‘yes’.

Shuri’s brows furrow, the movement of her head much more exaggerated. 

“This is good!” She compliments you loudly, tapping on one side of the headphones. You shush her humorously, reminding her of your neighbors and the lack of soundproof foam on your walls. “Sorry,” she chuckles before whispering, “This is good,” again.

It’s mostly dark in the room, the only light source in the room coming from the computer screen. The light reflects on Shuri’s skin, her eyes closed when she isn’t occasionally stealing glances at the side of your face, curious about the words you’ve written; envious of who you’ve written it for, though she’s had hopeful suspicions.

Your eyes stay glued on the screen, too embarrassed to watch the person who was, unbeknownst to her, your muse. 

Truthfully, she had been the subject of many of your songs, released and unreleased, since you first fell in love with her. That was two years ago. Perhaps it was the exhaustion from the long day or the present time of night that made the idea of sharing your music more enticing. Or maybe, subconsciously, you had to tell her how you felt without actually telling her.

Shuri hums along to the chorus, naturally catching onto the melody and you scratch your cheek in an attempt to hide your smile. You feel giddy inside at the way her body reacts—just so in-sync like she always is with the rest of your music. 

Until the song hits the bridge. 

Through your peripheral vision, it’s hard to ignore Shuri’s head movement slowing down to a halt. You catch a proper glimpse of her, only for a second, and oh, no, her face has gone blank. You feel your chest heave and now your brain is spiraling, wondering what the hell is going on in hers.

Shuri looks off, really listening this time. She flicks another glance at you before the last chorus arrives. And when it ends, she removes the headphones at a pace that perturbs you a bit…a lot actually. You’re left uneasy when she holds your headphones on her lap. She hasn’t looked at you and she hasn’t said anything yet.

“I know it’s not great,” you scratch the back of your neck then steal the headphones from her, laying them on the desk. Aimlessly, you fumble with your laptop, laughing nervously to fill the silence. “It’s just a draft. I probably won’t even finish it.”

Shuri’s still not saying anything and, christ, is it bothering you. At this point you’d rather she say it’s downright bad instead of keeping you on edge like this. But eventually she speaks, and when you hear her say your name, you initially feel like you could breathe again because she finally said something. However, that only lasts for a second.

“Is this true?” 

Your finger freezes on the mouse. You turn your head in her direction but her gaze doesn’t meet yours. You’re unsure what to say.

“What you wrote…is it true?” 

She takes the mouse from you, the feel of her hand leaving tingles on your skin. She clicks back to the beginning of the bridge before removing the headphone jack. Your voice plays on the speaker and suddenly you’re too stunned to remind her of your neighbors.

What exactly did you write? Nothing specific, or so you thought.

Then she pauses the song, an audible click coming from the spacebar, anticipatedly eyeing you. 

You shrug as an attempt to seem oblivious. (One might call it ‘gaslighting’.) 

“I write little stories for my songs,” you try to play it off. “I mean, I guess some are real, but most of ‘em aren’t, you know?” 

“You wrote about our time at the beach.” She states plainly, leaning back against her chair. She’s referring you to the secret beach you snuck her into in your hometown—a beach only so many people know of.

You glance at the notification-free lock screen of your phone on the desk; another excuse not to look her in the eye. “I take inspiration from shit in my own life.”

“And in your last album you wrote about the time we went on that hike together.” She adds. Yikes, you were hoping she wouldn’t notice that. 

“We’re lost in the woods,

I’m lost in your eyes.”

Damn your corny attempts at being poetic. You nearly cringe recalling the moment you wrote that. 

A year ago you went hiking with Shuri, and you insisted that you didn’t need any technology to navigate your way back home. You figured you’d walk back down the trail you walked up on, until you kept passing the same tree over and over again. Shuri laughed at you the entire time, comforted by the fact that she brought her Kimoyo bead bracelet with her, as you slowly started to freak out despite your refusal to admit you were wrong and maybe a map could’ve been useful.

“I hike all the time.” No, you don’t.

“No, you don’t,” Shuri shakes her head, one side of her lips tilting upwards. She leans forward and grabs the apron of your chair between your legs, rolling you closer to her until her knee hits the edge of your seat and your thighs loosely puzzle together. 

The light from the bright red motel sign across the street peaks through each horizontal slit of the blind curtain, and the cool night breeze outside lightly blows through the half-open window, lifting the curtain only a little, red occasionally sneaking under the bottom hem of the window covering. 

With the wind entering, the room should feel cool. It’s supposed to be. Yet your cheeks flush and the heat centered around your face tempts you to remove your hoodie because it’s easier to blame a jacket than the girl who’s figured you out.

You reattach your hand back on the mouse, unsure what you’d even do with it, but Shuri’s hand covers yours, your moist palm now stagnant on the object. 

“You released a single the year we met,” she says, her voice quieter than before but louder than a whisper. She doesn’t explain further. You remember the party two years ago and you know exactly what you wrote. Who are you to fool one of the most brilliant minds on the planet?

The computer screen dims, allowing you to notice the red illuminating on the back of her hand. You see red highlight the outline of her body and she stares at the red on the edge of your face. Then she looks at your eyes, your lips, then your eyes once again. Shuri slides her palm up to your elbow, her grip neither tight nor loose. 

“What are you so afraid of?” asks Shuri. 

You had spent so much of your romantic life dejected. Countless dating apps resulting in crappy dates. Or worse: friendships. Too many “The more I get to know you, the more I get friendly vibes from you”. Too many “Honestly, I don’t think I’m ready for this,” when really they realized they actually didn’t like you. Then when you knew someone in your own life who you liked romantically, the feeling—more often than not—wasn’t mutual. 

Best case scenario, you remain friends but things are only just a little awkward. Worst case scenario, they insist that things are okay then gradually ghost you. 

At this point, you were ready to give up.

“I don’t wanna…” you trail off.

She leans closer and whispers, “What?”

You stare off at anything that isn’t her. “I don’t wanna lose you.”

She leans down and tilts her face up, forcing your eyes to meet hers. She raises her brows. “Because…?”

You tuck your chin and your brows quirk. “Because?”

“I want you to tell me why you’re afraid of losing me,” she places her other hand on your armrest, trapping you, and you start stammering. “Since you do it so well in your songs.”

You can’t get anything out, though she doesn’t look away. You feel stuck, considering the numerous things you could tell her. Alternatively, you sigh. Fuck it. 

“I think I’ve told you enough,” you inhale, cupping one hand on her jaw and the other on the back of her neck before you firmly kiss her. Shuri lets out a muffled noise before reciprocating. 

And you both think, Finally.

Her body starts to sway backwards as you press against her, however she pushes you back against your chair. Her hands grab the sides of your face—one hand under your hood and the other over—refusing to let go now that she’s on her feet. Her upper body bends down just so her lips can live on yours, and a chuckle escapes both of you when your chair rolls backwards, almost hitting the wall behind you.

Admittedly, you enjoy sitting as she envelops your lips, but you decide to stand. Your hands slide down to her waist as you slowly walk her backwards until her legs meet the edge of your bed and she ends up landing on her bottom with her elbows supporting her weight as she gazes up at you, several red horizontal lines covering her body.

God, you can’t believe this is happening. You can’t believe Shuri wants you as much as you want her. Everything feels…unreal. Dream-like.

“Come here,” she pulls your wrist and you land on top of her. The bed bounces beneath you as her hand slithers up to your neck, drawing you in for a chaste kiss. She catches you in your thoughts. “You okay?” Is this okay? 

You nod, still admiring her below you. You whisper, “I didn’t think you’d…pay attention. To what I wrote. I didn’t know you were listening like that.”

Shuri caresses your neck with her thumb. She takes note of the neon blue light illuminating half of your face from a bar sign also across the street, below the motel sign. 

She kisses your cheek, your chin, then your lips once again. “I’ll always listen to you.”

[weirdkpopgirl]

In My Dreams | Renjun Imagine #5

Title: In My Dreams

Genre: College AU, a little angsty with a little fluff

Warnings: mentions of reader feeling insecure (what else is new 🙄)

Word Counts: 911

Author's Note: I seriously apologize for posting such depressing content lately. Honestly writing this type of stuff just makes me realize how much I hate myself. But I'm fine lol, using the Dreamies to distract me is more than enough. I really shouldn't be complaining. Anyway, hope you guys like this little imagine for Renjun ^ ^

𓆩⟡𓆪༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚𓆩⟡𓆪༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚𓆩⟡𓆪༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚𓆩⟡𓆪༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚𓆩⟡𓆪༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚𓆩⟡𓆪༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚𓆩⟡𓆪

The sigh that escaped your lips came out louder than intended, echoing slightly in the back corner of the lecture. As usual, your mind was subjected to its daily attack of self-conscious thoughts, though today they seemed particularly annoying. 

Absentmindedly you fidgeted with the hem of the black two-piece dress you had carefully chosen to wear. Was revealing your shoulders too much? Too bold? Did it make you look desperate for attention?  It was the only thing in your closet that you had yet to wear, mainly because you wanted to wait for the right time. However, you should’ve known you’d have doubts the minute you put on the dress. 

Your reflection stared back at you from the mirror-like surface of your phone screen, its intensity making your stomach churn. This morning, your wake-up routine had been prolonged by the meticulous effort you put into perfecting your makeup today and undoing the braids you’d done the night before so your hair would be wavy. 

Honestly, you weren’t entirely sure what drove you to put in the extra effort with your appearance today. Initially, you believed you were dressing up for yourself. Yet, as you navigated through a day packed with classes, a tiny glimmer of hope lingered that perhaps someone would notice, though the idea of attention drawn to you was intimidating.

However, as you glanced around the room, everyone seemed to be engrossed in their conversations about the upcoming essay that was due. Sometimes, a part of you wished you could muster up the courage to join one of those groups. But socializing never came naturally to you, and the lack of invitation to contribute only served to dishearten you.

As the professor began the afternoon’s lecture, you temporarily forced those thoughts to go away and focused on taking notes. Though it worked for the most part, your mind occasionally drifted back to the same imposter feeling you consistently experienced. Feeling as though everyone had their lives figured out, while you couldn’t be more out of place.

You were mentally ready to retreat into the confines of your apartment and change into sweats, by the time class was over. By now, your makeup was most likely smudged and the waves in your hair had gone down. Any semblance of confidence you donned that morning had diminished completely.

But just as you gathered your belongings and rose from your seat, a small folded piece of yellow paper fluttered to the table in front of you. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as you glanced around, expecting to see someone retrieve their misplaced note. Yet, people were already disappearing, leaving you alone with the mysterious paper.

Trying not to dwell on it too much, you hesitantly unfolded the paper. Your breath caught in your throat as you read the words neatly written across the page. While they sounded simple, they held a sincerity that you didn’t receive often.

 ~ Hi there, sorry if this is a little forward. But I just wanted to say that I think you look really pretty in that dress today (not that you don’t look pretty every day!). Also, you should curl your hair like that more often, it suits you ^ ^  - Huang Renjun

As you reached the end of the short message, your heart was pounding in your chest. You had to reread it a few times, to make sure you weren’t just hallucinating. Of all people, Huang Renjun noticed you? The cute boy who sat a few rows ahead of yours?

A shy smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you shifted your gaze upward to the doorway where he was nervously watching for your reaction. A light shade of pink tinged Renjun’s cheeks as he offered a tentative smile when the two of you locked eyes. Still trying to comprehend was just happened, you cautiously made your way over to him. 

“Um, hi,” you managed to stammer, your voice barely audible.

Renjun stepped closer, his expression softening with genuine warmth. “I’m sorry if I startled you. I just couldn’t leave without saying at least something.”

His words only made you blush more, but the smile on your lips grew with each passing moment.

“No, I should thank you…for the note. I feel a lot better now than I was earlier,” you said, with a half-hearted laugh. 

Renjun’s ears perked up at your response. “Really? Well, I’m glad to hear that.”

A hesitant silence stretched between the two of you, filled with unspoken possibilities. But before you could gather the courage to find something else to say, Renjun reached into his pocket and brought out his phone.

“Would you maybe want to have a meal sometime?” he asked, nervously rubbing the back of his neck. He extended his phone toward you, displaying a new contact pulled up on the screen.

“I’d love to,” you replied a little too eagerly, feeling your heart skip a beat.

Your hand trembled slightly as you took his phone to quickly type in your number. Renjun thanked you with a shy smile and shared he couldn’t wait to get to know you more before leaving for his next class. You had to take a moment to process everything. Did you seriously just get complimented and asked out by Renjun?

Shaking your head with a laugh, “Yeah, right. In my dreams.”

However, that belief couldn’t wipe the foolish smile off your face as you walked out of the lecture hall.

𓆩⟡𓆪༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚𓆩⟡𓆪༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚𓆩⟡𓆪༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚𓆩⟡𓆪༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚𓆩⟡𓆪༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚𓆩⟡𓆪༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚𓆩⟡𓆪

[theroseiswithoutawherefor]

Well, first of all, I have to thank @yridenergyridenergy for selling me the ticket! It was literally the best experience I had throughout the year; I really, really, sincerely appreciate it.

As promised, this is my repo of the gig in Wakayama. To be honest, I’m really a bad recorder as I can only recall the sensation or vibe in general and forget the details every time. Am I the only one?? Anyway, I guess my drawings may not be precise at all and it would be more like a summary of the year.

And this repo will be focusing on Kaoru, Toshiya and Kyo. I’m sorry but I stood on the left in both times.

Kaoru

It’s so strange that I can easily feel my love for him grows with time and what a coincidence! I visited them twice this year and I was right in front of him every time. I always assumed that I would be in front of Toshiya when I checked the hall map in December, but no! It was Kaoru again! It kinda shocked me the time I located my seat and noticed his microphone stand was there, just about 2 meters away.

I think probably it has been known by all of you, the show started with a semi-transparent screen showing some AI-generated footage(sorry, I hate this part). It covered most of the setting but just revealed some shadows. I could only see Kaoru, his side profile, priest-alike gown and silver hair. He looked so focused and indifferent and so good-looking…my hands are still sweating as I recall it now.

That was my first time listening to Rinkaku on-site. I got caught up in emotion when you could easily compare themselves in reality and their sketches in the video. You could see how much they have changed and it also just reminded me a lot of moments, staying at home and staring them on the screen. The real vs the virtual.

Also, at the beginning from the distance, I could only see some sort of marks on his chin that looked pretty much like piercings? It turned out to be his makeup; so brilliant.

Kyo

I didn’t see Kyo that much this time, but I feel he is that kind of vocal that you would fall in love with once you’ve actually seen him in the venue. He looked so nostalgic to me this time, maybe bc of the ghost face makeup or the fact that I have seen him too much this year. I also went to HK for sukekiyo this year.

The gig of sukekiyo was more emotional, floating and spacey (and less aggressive, obviously). Kyo’s dedication was so contagious. Although he looked a little bit nervous at the beginning of the Day1, forgetting the lyrics now and then lol.

It is interesting to see the similarities and differences between Diru and Sukekiyo, like looking at different reflections of the same mirror.  

Btw probably he is the most inspiring Diru member to me I guess. Idk why drawing kyo always begins with a pretty satisfying draft then it becomes a big challenge to my expertise and patience ahhhh. But yeah, I can improve a lot after finishing it. So, kyo, thx? lol

Toshiya

I’m not quite a fan of his white outfit that day(the one worn in the pic of their tweet on 16th Dec). Actually I even failed to recognize him the first, waistcoat and palazzo trouser are ok but definitely not the most stunning look of him. It seems that his style is becoming more gender-neutral this year, with hair dyed brown, pearl jewelries and feminine makeup.

But I still quite enjoyed his performance, his body language was so beautiful (ugh! It’s such a shame that I can’t recreate it)and he was the first one going to the left terrace and saying hi to everyone. Toshiya is always the sweetest person in Diru to me.

I prefer his encore look more and he took off the shirt and threw it to the gift right in front of him

（and a random sketch）

That’s it! I could have drawn more but, sorry I’m a perfectionist, these pics really took me some time, but I may keep going if I have spare time.

And I’m not used to talking so much on the Internet, it is embarrassing somehow.  

The year of 2023 has treated me rly good, I hope it would be the same for all of you and Diru members, see you next year.

[celestie0]

First time asker but long time reader 😭 I’m sorry that you got that shitty ask. It’s such a weird fucking thing to ask someone “hey when are you making these two fuck?” like… does that not feel weird to type out?

The gojo x reader tag has at least 5 explicit smut fics minimum daily, go read through those if you genuinely need sex in everything you read (it’s time to reflect on the porn addiction you have).

Regardless, I’ve been reading your fics on Ao3 and I absolutely LOVE the banter between gojo and reader 😭 it flows so fucking well I can feel the chemistry radiating from my screen. When I first started reading IHM, I was also an ancient hag like reader (29) so I found myself able to really relate to her. Usually when I envision Y/N, it’s a random person in their place but with this fic specifically idk why I lowkey insert myself? Everything she does, I would probably do the same and it makes me nervous (in a good way) that I’m gonna get attached to gojo and y/n’s relationship 😭

I absolutely love how gojo provides the security Y/N so desperately needs in the span of the fic. She has been suffocating on her own for so long that he just provides some fresh air. Dare I say meant to be?

The domesticity is everything and I like how we’re learning more about him alongside Y/N. So far we’ve seen just how supportive gojo has been and I’m excited to see how y/n comes through for him because my spidey senses (and your amazing writing) shows me that he has some baggage and it might resurface soon.

The build up to them realizing they love each other is making me giggle and kick my feet. I will happily eat whatever you feed us, thank you for sharing your writing with us. You absolutely have a talent for writing and fleshing out characters/relationships.

I appreciate you and will do my best to support you vocally from here on out 🥹 have a great week pls!

hi my love!! first of all thank you SO much for this supportive message, i srs teared up when i read it 😭 idk if that’s embarrassing to admit lololdjfsdfh but yea omg yesterday was rough so i can’t tell u how much it means to me

i agree on the porn addict thing omg like i love smut as much as the next person, but likeee to go into an author inbox after they just posted a 14k chap of their fic n say “are we gonna get smut soon?” like 💀 that’s sortaaaaa. i’m getting porn addiction vibes

aaaaaaaa i’m so happy you’re enjoying the banter in ihm :’’) and that you’re able to see yourself in reader’s shoes!! that’s such a wonderful thing n one of the aims of my writing ♥️ ♥️ also pls 29 is not ancient hag oml i mean there will be lots of rhetoric in ihm where reader thinks she’s old but like ultimately i want the message of the series to be that it’s never too late to start over and find happiness & joy :) i think that really applies to everything and everyone. and ahhh yes there will be some pretty angst stuffs BUT there will be happy ending <33

yes ihm gojo def got some baggage 😂😂 i need my men like that LOL. but thank you so much for being excited to see how reader comes through for him as well!! i know she’s going through a lot on her own, and that can sometimes cause her to neglect the things outside of her…but i think she has capacity to really be there for him too

oh my dear i really am so lucky to have you as a long time reader and i’m so grateful to hear your thoughts, but also please send them whenever you want to and without pressure <33 i will eat it tf up if/when you do but yea xD never feel burdened to! you have a wonderful week as well omg imma eat u fr

[remusawoooo]

anon here, excited to read the essay! i asked you because i really like your takes and i see people in the more canon-adjacent parts of the marauders fanbase to complain about the extremes of the fanon one, though personally ive never really seen anything Too extreme, tho thats probably just tantamount to how well i curate my spaces i suppose (ive seen people say that fanon makes remus really “alpha” or makes sirius “bimbofied” and while ive seen hints of those extremes here and there, mostly it looks like it varies from person to person. ive just seen remus be more assertive than he probably is in canon, or sirius being more dramatic and “fem” than he probably is in canon). from what i know people like exaggerating events (the prank, etc.) or shifting some personality traits, but i dont really think thats a bad thing - i personally enjoy it. as long as they dont completely turn characters into stereotypes (though its a pitfall of every fandom, i fear), then whatever its just camp.

people are allowed to criticize stuff like that though, not taking that away from anyone, i personally just dont really care enough to be totally accurate esp since this hyperfix is kind of the bottom of the barrel for me LMAO. but i ask mostly bc im just curious to see what other peoples opinions are, and bc i think - especially in a fanbase like this - that its incredibly important to be at least a little critical with your media experience and reflect on it. saying “oh fuck canon we’re just having fun” is fine and all, i dont think anyone is stopping you, i think the personalities people have made up for characters that have zero screen time are super fun and the little ships are not everyones tea but like its fine. but even still, people should be way more aware of what characters theyre dealing with and from what franchise, and like reflect on any biases you may have. if youre making shit up for a random DE character, or retconning some sutff, okay, whatever, but be sure to not defend or like suddenly turn to really weird rhetoric. idk i think its the bare minimum in a fanbase like this

i definitely rambled way too much here, super sorry op! i hope this doesnt bother you, feel free to reply or feel free to not. i just really like hearing peoples thoughts on things, and i like your takes and your blog so i hope i didnt catch you by surprise. i really am just an outsider trying to look in LOL

hello anon, I'm sorry I lost your ask. I was writing on my laptop and saved the draft (but apparently had to press on alt, and didn't do it) so I basically lost your question and half of my initial response. Ty for sending in another ask!! Not a bother at all, i find this very lovely :D 

I was mortified to find that someone who isn't really a part of the fandom was perceiving me while I was complaining about fictional characters ahahaha. still, thank you for validating me and asking my thoughts on the mischaracterization of marauders!! I do talk about it daily, unfortunately, and without any prompt too. I'll try to gather all my thoughts here. I don't necessarily come across fanon as much as I did when I reentered the fandom and honestly, I can not be more with you about curating your space !! at the end of the day, I am just here to have fun, and really, pointing out these issues is not a good time at all! But I do post a lot about these, I can't be bothered to bottle up any thoughts lol.

I think the major issue I have with current interpretations is the underlying bigotry that comes along with it. There is a lot of unchecked problematic content that doesn't sit right with me.

Flanderizing characters in fandom interpretations is not limited to marauders fandom obviously. any popular media will face this because so many of us want to interact with one character so their traits are simplified for easier consumption and to find a common ground. this is also not limited to new marauders fandom. even in the older era, leather jacket-wearing, motorbike-driving quintessential bad boy siruis was a thing. so I won't nitpick on silly simplifications.

I just want to say that this isn't about me wanting everyone to have the same interpretations as I do about the canon. I follow so many lovely people and I don't agree with all of their posts. But, we all just simply share the love for these characters in the text and form an imaginary community. So, if we were to remove all the issues I will mention, it is still very well possible to have different personal takes.

Here are some of my issues:

Queerness, Gender roles, and misogyny:

My biggest problem is the representations of queer relationships. the fandom packages these couples in a strange and obvious heteronormative mold where the individuals fit into male and female gender roles. mlm and wlw are now an “f/m”* stereotype and characterization gets affected by the ships. Heterosexual relationships shouldn't have these limitations either, anyway. There is no one way to be a woman or a man. With queer relationships in particular, we have reclaimed the word queer now but it was used to describe the unconventional weirdness in the relationship. We didn't fit into the normal portrayal of a loving relationship. So, it really bothers me, even in fiction, that queer ships are popularly consumed in a way that represents a traditional template. (*this is not about gender itself but the gender roles! f/m can very well be queer!). 

Let's take the biggest victim in this fandom: sirius.

Sirius’ portrayal concerning his gender and sexuality has heavily changed his characterization in the fanon. We have a character who is popularly headcanonned as trans and is it a coincidence that all their traits have changed from the og material? Sirius is suddenly vain, whiny, and dumb. Canon doesn't suggest this interpretation, it has to have stemmed from somewhere. It's the implicit bias. Sirius becomes a caricature of what a woman “should be”. When we focus on sexuality, there is the suddenly short twink sirius who has the same new traits- proving the point of fulfilling gender roles. These characteristics are a stand-in for the “female” role of the traditional relationship and it becomes more clear in the example of new age wolfstar. Remus is now the big alpha stoic manly man- the obvious stand-in for the “male” role. I could go on, it is apparent in the way you can see remus becomes a caretaker and sirius is taken care of.

The point I am trying to make is not to discourage gender/sexuality hc. I love them, keep them coming. But, why is female sirius not tall suddenly? It is not inherently bad at all to have a feminine and masculine pairing! But why do we need to change the constitutions of these characters to consume their relationship?

I'll keep dropping disclaimers because I hate being misinterpreted: I don't obviously mean every single person is doing this or that doing one of the things means doing the other too. 

Race:

It is related to the point above. I was personally so excited to see the popular desi james hc. Even in fanon, I have never seen such a prevalent and encouraged brown rep, it was quite sweet to come back to that. But the problem is the change of characteristics that comes with race hc. Desi james is also a manly dude who is big and buff as opposed to the white petite and delicate regulus within jegulus ship. The melanin is directly proportional to the manliness here. 

This is a propagation of race stereotypes. Maybe jegulus was a bad example because usually there are seen as blank templates. I will raise the argument that this can't be all we can come up with for blank canvases then. Either way, my point about race still stands when you repeatedly design interracial queer relationships so they fall into heteronormative roles. Anyway, same issue with wolfstar when there is a brown remus.

Canon, JKR, and hypocrisy:

Refusing to engage with source material is funny when we are picking characters out of it. the interpretations of the characters will be from their book. otherwise, they are just original characters with the same name. you can add onto the traits and a lot of the time fandom comes to a consensus regarding a few things! This is common in every fandom but I don't think I have seen such reluctance to not only critically engage with media but also shame others who do. We are surely in special circumstances with this fandom but I really do think jkr and how we navigate the fanon should be two different things.

Most of us don't condone jkr or even remotely agree with any nonsense she spews on the daily. Most of us can see the problematic nature of even consuming this media and staying in this fandom. It is one of the reasons I even left the fandom. Most of us are simply doing our best to engage carefully while distancing ourselves from her. So, it is quite laughable when some love to take the moral high ground for rejecting canon while still engaging with the same characters. (the rejection of canon in question being sirius’ height, lol)

(Sirius' height is quite a polarising fact apparently. Unfortunately, the point about height is also discussed so disingenuously. When I talk about sirius’ height, it is not really about him being 6 or 7 feet. It will not really impact my life. It is about what it represents. He is bimbofied as he becomes short. It's an issue of "WHY" again.)

Of course, this isn't an accusation of intentional bigotry from everyone here. The problem with this fandom is that the people in it tell themselves that it is progressive and to run away from the problematic creator as much as possible. We are not progressive if all we do is co-opt queer and racially diverse identities on such a superficial level. The bias manifests in subtle forms. I just wish we check ourselves from time to time, that's all. 

There is a lot of hostility when we try to discuss issues in the fanon. Things are interpreted in the most misguided way to just win the argument. Like I said in the beginning, we all just want to have a good time. That also means creating a welcoming space for vulnerable groups (especially when the same identities are used to pat yourselves on the backs for inclusivity points). I didn't even cover everything btw, I just wrote about the issues that concern me. queer and poc also partake in biased representations, I also probably have some biases that I didn't identify yet. I just think it would be super neat if everyone tried to make an effort to unlearn and engage with media without hurting anyone. 

I have other issues but they are all just super subjective opinions and smth I can ignore when others do. ex: I really don't like giving tragic backstories to bigots in the story. Not every supremacist loser has a trauma that forced them into oppressing people! There is also "tropeyfication" of all major ships. Just an overall issue in the reading world I think, though.

Anon, I didn't mean to make it preachy in any way btw. You probably asked for a silly little rant and I went full lecture mode, so I apologize for the tone shift!! I mentioned these because every other issue can be brought down to these imo. Like you said, I also don't have any fixation on everything being canon-compliant. I only complain by asking about the thought process behind certain kinds of changes, if that makes sense! I hope this wasn't a drag really and you can see where I am coming from. If I misspoke anywhere, pls lmk. Thanks for sharing your opinions too!!

This is a long long rant, anyone who read everything, you are wonderful and patient. Thank you for taking the time. This huge post and the content can make you think, “who cares this much?” or “it's not that serious” and yaa it really isn't that serious. The characters aren't real but we all are. the identities projected are real. so, it does matter to talk about this.

Everything said this is a fun place to be once you find your own corner in the playground.

[ujimoo]

Things I think of when I think of: SVT

notes: these are things I think of when I think of the members of seventeen. these are my own opinions. this has also morphed into them as boyfriends as well, so enjoy both

bonus notes: sorry if this is kinda sucky, I tried my best but ideas haven't been coming to me as easily as they normally. Hope you still enjoy though

permanent tag list: @plutominho @soobin-chois

skz | seventeen

----

seungcheol / s.coups:

FLIRTY !! back hugs, holding hands, cherries (especially cherry flavoured lip balm), oversized jumpers, "LOOK AT MY S/O!!", dog parents, bringing him and the boys food when they have practice, him swooning when you guys to domestic things, wants a family and for his boys to be uncles. take care of him and support him is the way to his heart because he's glad he can have someone to rely on especially when it comes to leading twelve other boys however, he wouldn't change it for the world. Honestly, I also see him screaming whenever you do something cute to him, I mean come on HIS GIGGLES?! Music to your ears. Choi Seungcheol Best Laughter !

jeonghan:

cheating on games, teasing, flirty banter, teaming up to (affectionately) annoy the other members. Cooking for everyone. Watching you and smirking because he knows you're who he loves and he's slightly cocky about it, but he also is just genuinely amazed at how you could love him as much as you do. and make sure he never forgets that. playfully scolding him when he teases the babies a bit too much. texting you random things, but when you text back he leaves you on read only for him to respond two hours later with 'lol, forgot to text you back'. Will spam you with face time calls when he's on tour or just when he's bored.

joshua:

serenading you, gentleman, watching you from across the room with a loving gaze, hand holding, low-key pda, wholesome couple, if spring was a person it would be joshua, I can't tell you why or how I feel this way, but I do. praises you, you guys have photos together, but not many, you as his home screen, a photo of you in his wallet, falling asleep on the sofa watching a movie at night whilst drinking wine, brings you flowers if you like them that is.

jun:

cats, lowkey matching items like rings or necklaces, mood rings, taking bad selfies together just because you can, tops/shirts with long sleeves, visiting cafes together, slow dancing at midnight in the refrigerator light, feeding each other, himbo junhui&lt;3, watching the sunset and just watching the colours reflect onto his face, being so smitten with each other that everything he does just makes you blush and swoon, protective and sweet boyfriend jun = will do everything to make sure you feel loved and safe.

soonyoung / hoshi:

tigers, are we surprised? dancing dates, teaching you the routines for seventeen songs -- and even others that he might know, or he'd learn one you wanted to learn just so he could teach you. the stuffed animal claw machine at arcades. dancing in the rain. sending you selfies and texts anytime he can, helping you take off your make-up when you're tired if you wear makeup that is, CUDDLES, basically attached at the hip, always touching each other in some way. Be his #1 supporter because he's your #1<3

wonwoo:

gaming together, linked pinky fingers, sitting on his lap or between his legs when he plays a game, feeding him snacks, over-sized jumper, reading dates, picking out books for each other, annotating books for each other, winning you a stuffed toy, placing bets on who can win more tickets in the arcade. cooking for him, and enjoying food in general together. he's a quiet but sweet boyfriend, he does things more in actions than words, but his words are also just as sweet.

jihoon / woozi:

sweater/hoodie paws, studio dates, playlists, love expressed more in action than in words, songs about you (a whole separate folder of songs about you), marvel movie marathons, take-out dates aka bringing him take-out to his studio, matching anime pfps, another quieter boyfriend but still loving, he doesn't get jealous often doesn't feel the need to not because he doesn't love you or doesn't care, but he knows you love him and wouldn't do anything that would cause him to be jealous. loves you for you and the way you are and the way you treat his brothers.

seokmin / DK:

love notes on sticky notes randomly spread around your apartment, singing in the shower, daisy chains, the way the sun shines on a warm day, cheek kisses, hand holding, giggling at all times because he’s just so funny, singing on road trips, dancing in the kitchen in refrigerator light, comedy duo, sunshine couple, he has photos of you two in his wallet from a photo booth, him attempting to do your make-up if you wear it, wearing his jumpers cause they're always so warm and smell like him. he's a soft and loving boyfriend, not jealous in any way.

mingyu:

first of all husband material! cooking for you, cooking dates in general, photography dates, hand holding, hand on your waist, hugging you from behind, polaroid pictures in either your phone case or wallet, protective boyfriend! will always stay by your side especially if you're feeling anxious, always willing to go on adventures and to try something. he's also a baby though, so make sure to love and treat him well.

minghao / THE8:

art dates, fashion shows, motivational talks, real-life talks at 2am, realistic advice, photography dates, dancing at the studio and bringing them lunch/dinner, low-key matching outfits, candid photos, painting, and being each other's number one supporter. understanding and communicative. doesn't feel the need for jealousy or anything petty. will tell you things even if you don't want to hear them because he loves and supports you and wants the best for you

seungkwan:

laughter, basically being a two-person comedy show, warm hugs, sassy banter, giving each other (affectionate) glares, teasing when you're around other people, but alone you tell each other all the sweet nothings you could muster. playing with his fingers with you're cuddling and sitting together. can be jealous, but not because he doesn't trust you, but more other people, can glare and be petty towards other people. You're his and you're his favourite person so no one else can have you in a not creepy way.

vernon:

chaos, yet chill. ik it doesn't make sense, but at the same time, it does. colourful clothes, purposely taking bad photos. making memes of each other, having a folder, especially for each other and their photos (and memes), late-night dates where you don't do anything in particular, but just chill, vanilla that's the vibe I get from him, it's not bad and it might be classed as a basic smell, but its also a comforting aroma and that's what I see Vernon as, someone that brings comfort. no need for jealousy here people, vernon knows you and loves you and the same for you to him, so there's no need for that. having a cat baby together, sending photo updates of said cat baby.

chan / dino:

dino’s baby, dance dates whether that's at a class, in the studio or at home. wearing his clothes, getting you to take his photos for his Instagram, movie nights, a lot of laughter, mutual teasing, I don't think he'd get jealous that much but maybe he'd have moments where he'd doubt more himself and not you, streaming all of his danceology videos<3, him as your lock screen and home screen, you're his #1 supporter, you shower each other in this pure love that can make others jealous, wishing they had what you guys have.

[nalyra-dreaming]

Sorry if I’ll destroy the good mood, but I kind of need some advice. And I feel like you’re a good listener.

All of a sudden I don’t look as much forward to season two as I did only like a month ago. Just when things has gotten really interesting and I should be very excited with all these teasers etc, but I don’t really feel much at all.

Most likely a combination of slight burn-out for one been hyperfixated on this for two years haha, but mostly because so many (or a very loud minority) in this fandom that I have experienced online (mostly on Twitter X but also here) have as we all know been just awful.

From all sides, about all things, people are being hateful. And I guess lasts week’s brief drama about ships was what did it for me lol.

Now no one has been directly bad towards me at all; but constantly see how others behave towards each other some of my favourite accounts in this fandom has even stopped posting or left due to this.

I know this may sound self-centred because this really isn’t about me, but this just sucks and I need some advice. I just feel tired, annoyed and almost icky.

I don’t know how to shake off this feeling? Maybe it will get better if I just go away for a while.

:(

I feel you. *hugs*

I didn’t really catch the recent drama but I can well imagine. Nerves are raw and frayed, emotions very high.

And the tone reflects that, more often than not.

But if you leave now… you’ll deprive yourself of the rush. Remember the rush?^^ I do.

And that is going to hit soon. Very soon. 🥰

So… my advice? Stay with the mutuals you trust, block freely, mute certain tags, and if you need to rant (or want to yell^^) feel free to come to my DMs if you want. Sometimes all that is needed is to let it all out.

Soon there will be so much new content. And the Jam interview has to hit soon! And the premiere events and screenings! Interviews! Stuff.

The … show will bring in some facts soon. A lot of the drama over the last year and a half is based on the … tale and the inherent ambiguity. That… will end, soon, one way or another.

So don‘t give up? 🤗🥰 TVL will be on our screens soon! The theater!! And probably parts of TVA! Just… imagine:)))

*hugs* My DMs are open 💕

[ohwhataniight]

Masochism Tango - Johnlock fanvid

I still haven't figured out how to export vids on my old mac so here's another video that I filmed with my phone lol. You can even see my hand reflected on the screen, sorry about that.

I just couldn't help myself when listening to this exquisite song by Tom Lehrer. I think it suits them perfectly!

@totallysilvergirl