#the end of my shift and i had to go so. i HAD to force myself to say i couldn't help them in that moment

[tfwbluu]

PAIRING — ni-ki + f!reader

WARNINGS — idol!ki, pillow humping, guided masturbation(?), pet names (doll, baby, etc), riding, ki’s big (as always tho), raw sex (stay safe!), sweet at the end but it goes back to spicy.

WORDCOUNT — 1.6K

NOTE — long time no post, here’s a little something for my ki girls~ going back to the roots :3 might be a bit rustic so don’t mind that plsjdks

Fuck, you were downright needy. It wasn’t necessarily your fault either—but it definitely was his.

Riki had been looking way too good lately, effortlessly charming, the kind of allure that left you restless and wanting. And despite your growing desperation to get your hands on him, his demanding idol schedule kept him away, leaving you a frustrated, aching mess.

Every text, every teasing phone call, every fleeting moment you managed to steal with him only made it worse. You needed him, badly.

Finally, you found yourself lying on your side, a pillow lodged between your thighs as you desperately rutted against the soft fabric. A breathy moan of relief escaped your lips, but it was fleeting—nowhere near enough.

It had been minutes since you started trying to ease the ache between your legs, the rustle of bedsheets and your soft whimpers filling the room. The friction was there, but it wasn’t satisfying, leaving you restless. You shifted and squirmed, tossing and turning in search of the perfect angle—one that would finally bring you the pleasure you craved.

Frustration built with every roll of your hips, the pressure teasing but never quite satisfying. A desperate whimper escaped your lips as you shifted, straddling the pillow instead, gripping it tightly as you rutted against it.

You were too lost in the feeling to notice the door creak open.

Riki leaned against the frame, watching with hooded eyes as you helplessly grind against the pillow—his pillow. His jaw clenched at the sight, arousal stirring at the way your face twisted in frustration, small whimpers slipping from your lips.

“Need some help, doll?” His voice was low, teasing, yet laced with something darker.

Your eyes snapped open, glassy with need. “R-Riki… please,” you whimpered, cheeks burning in embarrassment but too far gone to care. “Need you so bad…”

He cocked his head, a smirk tugging at his lips. “But you looked like you were enjoying yourself,” he mused, stepping closer. “Mind if I enjoy a little more of the show?”

Before you could protest, his hands found your hips, gripping them firmly as he guided you back into rhythm against the pillow, forcing you to keep going.

“Fuck! Ki…!” you cried out, your moans swallowed by his lips as he kissed you deeply, his grip on your hips unwavering.

“That’s it, doll,” he cooed, breaking away just enough to watch your expression twist in pleasure. “You just needed a little help, yeah?”

His hands trailed up your body, fingers ghosting over your heated skin, leaving a trail of shivers in their wake. He let you take control, watching with dark amusement as your hips moved on their own, desperate and needy against the pillow. “Such a pretty sight,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. “Keep going for me.”

“Rikiii,” you whimpered, your desperate eyes locking onto his, frustration spilling over in the form of unshed tears.

“What is it, baby? Use your words,” he coaxed, feigning innocence as he wiped a stray tear from your cheek, his touch deceptively gentle.

“Need you to fuck me… need your cock inside, pleasee,” you pleaded, voice trembling, your soaked core pressing against the now-damp pillow beneath you.

A smirk tugged at his lips. “Mhm, since you asked politely.” Without hesitation, he stripped off his clothes, the sight alone making your breath hitch. He wasted no time pulling you onto his lap, tossing the pillow aside, his hands gripping your thighs as he spread them apart. His gaze darkened at the view before him, fingers grazing your inner thighs.

“You’re dripping, doll,” he mused, aligning himself with your entrance. “Guess I should give you what you’ve been begging for.”

A loud moan tore from your lips as he pushed inside, not giving you even a second to adjust before he bottomed out. The stretch was intense, his tip pressing right against that sensitive bundle of nerves, making your back arch. A slight bulge formed in your stomach, a clear reminder of how deep he was.

You tried to move, but your limbs felt weak, trembling from the overwhelming sensation. Riki chuckled, his hands firm on your waist as he teasingly thrust up into you, making you yelp.

“Aww, poor little thing,” he cooed, his tone laced with amusement. “Come on, you can do it. Use me like that pillow, baby.”

Your nails dug into his shoulders as you forced your body to move, rolling your hips against him, your walls clenching around his length. His grip tightened, helping you set a pace, his low groans only adding to the pleasure building inside you.

“So d-deep… hngh, Riki… aah!” you whimpered against his ear, your voice trembling as you buried your face in his shoulder. Your arms wrapped around him tightly, nails digging into his skin as you rocked your hips, fucking yourself on his cock with desperation.

“Feels so good inside me… please, please, please…!” you sobbed, your walls fluttering around him.

Riki groaned, his grip tightening on your waist, guiding your movements as he thrust up to meet you. “That’s it, doll. Take what you need,” he murmured, his lips grazing your neck. “Such a needy little thing… so greedy for me, huh?”

“Mhm, only for you—ngh!” you moaned into his ear as you eagerly rode him.

Riki groaned, feeling the way your walls clenched around him, hot and desperate. His grip on your waist tightened, guiding your movements as he thrust up to meet you, his pace growing rougher. His fingers dug into your skin, surely leaving behind light bruises.

“So eager for me,” Riki murmured, his voice thick with amusement and lust. “I’m way better than that pillow, hmm? Filling you up so good. Tell me, who do you belong to?” His words were a taunt, but the way his hands roamed your body told you he was just as desperate.

His palm pressed firmly against the bulge in your stomach, making you arch against him, a long, needy moan spilling from your lips. The sensation sent another wave of pleasure straight to your core, your body tightening around him in response.

“Haa.. ‘m your—hngh! Yours~!” you gasped, fingers gripping his hair tightly as you tried to ground yourself against the overwhelming pleasure.

Riki chuckled darkly, his hand suddenly twisting into your hair, yanking you back just enough to make your eyes lock onto his. His gaze was filled with hunger, his dark eyes drinking in your fucked-out expression.

“Yeah?” he whispered, lips brushing against yours teasingly. “Then show me, baby. Show me just how much you need me.”

His lips crashed against yours, devouring you in a messy, desperate kiss. Your moans tangled with his as you moved in sync, bodies chasing that intoxicating high. The pleasure coiled tighter and tighter in your core, your walls clenching around him as the pressure built unbearably.

Breaking away from the kiss with a breathless whimper, you gasped, “F-fuck, ‘m close… Ki…!” Your hands clawed at his back, your hips moving desperately, bouncing against him as you chased your release.

“C’mon, doll,” he groaned, his voice strained with pleasure. “Let’s cum together.” His pace turned erratic, his hips snapping up to meet yours in deep, frantic thrusts. His fingers found your clit, rubbing tight circles that sent sparks through your trembling body.

With one final cry, the knot inside you snapped, pleasure crashing over you in waves. Your body quivered in his hold as you came undone, your walls pulsing around him. The sensation dragged him over the edge, a low moan leaving his lips as he spilled inside you, filling you up with his warmth.

Your body collapsed against him, chest rising and falling rapidly as the aftermath washed over you. His hands smoothed over your back, grounding you with gentle touches. “Good girl,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Do you feel better?”

“Mhm… I didn’t know you’d come home,” you mumbled, burying your face into his shoulder as the realization of what had just happened made your cheeks burn.

Riki chuckled, the deep sound vibrating through his chest. “If you needed me this bad, you could’ve just told me, doll. I would’ve made time for you, y’know?” His words were teasing, but the sincerity was there.

“You always seemed so busy and tired… I didn’t wanna bother yo—mph!” Your words were cut off as his lips crashed onto yours, swallowing your protests with a passionate kiss. His grip tightened around you, holding you close as if he wanted to erase any doubt from your mind.

“Don’t say that,” he murmured against your lips, his tone softer now. “You’re never a bother to me. I love you so much, and I’ll always be here for you if you need me, princess.”

Your heart swelled at his words, a small pout forming on your lips before you pressed a sweet kiss to his nose. “I love you too, Ki.”

The moment felt warm, intimate—until he suddenly smirked. “Say… how about another round?”

You gasped, smacking his chest playfully. “Ki!”

His laughter filled the room, but his amusement only grew as he felt your walls involuntarily clench around him. His eyes darkened, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips. “Oh, princess… you’re squeezing me so tight. I think you want it as much as I do, hm?”

Before you could protest, he flipped you onto your back, pinning you against the mattress effortlessly. His hands gripped your thighs, spreading them apart as he hovered over you.

“Let me make it up to you, yeah?” His voice dripped with desire, his pace painfully slow, each deep thrust leaving you breathless. Your bodies were slick with heat, every movement drawing out soft whimpers as he used the mess between you to glide effortlessly inside.

“Be a good girl and take it,” he whispered against your ear, his lips tracing along your skin, sending shivers down your spine.

He filled you over and over, dragging out every ounce of pleasure until your mind blurred with nothing but him—his touch, his voice, the way he claimed you completely.

And as he filled you up once more, you knew the night was far from over.

taglist @kikidoul @rikiives @contyynishimura @ziiao @lilmarsh-t @bxcndd @laylasbunbunny @d-dilemma

[anemoiashifts]

what your s/o thinks about you !

+ your relationship

choose a painting above.

💌

disclaimer !! please don’t force messages to fit. i do a ton of readings & im sure if this one doesn’t fit, you will find one eventually that resonates. this is just a general reading :) ! ps this is also primarily for people who have not shifted yet but that doesn’t mean people who have shifted can’t get some insight on how their s/o feels about them !

sorry this reading is so late. i was on top of my game by posting this on the first of the month for a while. anywho ! happy late valentine’s day. may you consume all the gourmet chocolate & watch all the cheesy 2000’s strait to dvd romance movies you can find. sending you all a virtual bouquet of flowers. rose ? tulips ? your choice.

────୨ৎ────

🕊️ | dear pile one,

quite honestly based on the cards i pulled, your s/o puts you on a pedestal more then anything. they love that analytical, take nothing at face value aspect of you. while they celebrate it, they see it can become your detriment too. overthinking your every action, going “frame by frame” in life, can be tiring. you have a tendency to keep stuff in to appease others & not rock the boat, which they pick up on more then you think they do. this is someone intuitive & can sense your emotional wellbeing as if it was sentient. they want you to come to them. a caregiver at heart, wanting to soothe any insecurity or worry that floats around in the back of your head. while they may be awkward & stiff with their approach, they mean well despite struggle to execute the touchy-feely aspect to your relationship. they’re not as open as you are when it comes to emotions or trusting others. they’ve been burned in the past & for some of you that could mean literally. they’re the silent, sitting in a dark corner, the people watching type. they appreciate your input & how you always seem to open their eyes to new perspectives that they’d never come up with themselves which pulls them out of their funk.

the both of you make up a wing of a phoenix, always rising from the ashes of whatever hardship you may be facing together. the two of you are riddled with self doubts at times, teaching each other how to heal from trauma or let things go once & for all.

in summary with a few extra details ? they love you. like i said they see you as this light which they are not worthy of. with these last two cards & pure vibes im getting the picture that they had this perfectly curated “cool” aesthetic image to anyone looking in on them & when you came around that was shattered, leaving them vulnerable & scrambling to put the pieces back with old chewing gum & popsicle sticks. this person has a tendency to be secretive. never sneaky. not like hiding their phone screen or anything. more like not telling you things to upkeep that image they so desperately want for themselves. could be all smokes & mirrors to hide what’s really going on or maybe they just want you to think highly of them, the same way they think of you.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚.

🐩 | dear pile two,

they like to keep it light with you. it’s giving cat & mouse. on & off but you always end up together. a class project, a seating arrangement. you just look good together, aesthetically.

this person likes to pretend they’re nonchalant & don’t care as much as they really do. unlike pile one, they feel like they have nothing to hide from you. you’re both open books with one another. you have been to the depths of hell & the highest of heavens together. it.

they can get a little short & irritated. nothing a throwing a table lamp at a wall won’t fix, usually. not the best of methods to let out some steam but know none of that is directed at you. anger issues are very much present within this person. why this is relevant is because it impacts your relationship more then this person will ever admit. they have a vision, having carefully crafted a plan before you came into the picture & now that you’ve stumbled into their life it’s setting everything ablaze. a workaholic who is now scrambling carefully combing through their prospects & goals to make accommodations in the margins for your presence & that scares them sometimes. at times embarrassed that you have this imaginary grip on every aspect of their life. they want to buy a new car ? what’s your favorite color ? they’re hungry ? they’ll stop at your favorite place as an excuse to bring you your favorite dessert. they somehow hold everything together really well considering the unnecessary stress they put on themselves.

expect late nights & going to bed alone. when morning comes, arising with a bouquet of flowers being delicately placed on your bedside table with a handwritten note. chances are they’re probably in the kitchen doing the dishes you were to lazy to do the night prior. their love langue is very much acts of service. they really really do care. going to the ends of the earth to bring you your simplest of desires. weather that be leonardo da vinci's "salvator mundi” or a pair of shoes you saw in a vintage fashion magazine yesterday. it will show up perfectly perched on your bed on a random tuesday as a just because.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚.

🐇 | dear pile three,

deep, intense spiritual connection. literal fireworks erupt when you first locked eyes with them. you’re in tune with others emotions & can physically feel what the other feels. you’ve spent past lives together. very high school cheerleader x football player in a 90’s romcom. a slight delay in actually dating or tying the knot. the whole friends to lovers pipeline may be in the cards for you. at the very least, a slow burn type romance.

you two could’ve met traveling. maybe that’s something they do for work ? nonetheless, they seem very artistic. having a sketch book filled with drawings of you & your favorite things. a secret poet who writes poems about you & puts little hearts around your name like a lovesick school girl. a photographer who takes your photograph when you least expect it. not in a creepy way. they just like to look at you. except them to pick you up little things off the ground and present them to you like a small child. they like collecting rocks & see a really shiny one on the ground ? congratulations you are now a proud shiny rock owner ! they’re very sentimental & thoughtful like that. someone who has a little box of every item you’ve ever given them no matter how minuscule. you’re their home, which could’ve been something they’ve never had before & neglected to even think about before they ever met you. somethings does tells me they’re a little bit of an age gap. if not in the literal sense, one of you may be more mature then the other. an “old soul”. this could go for any aspect in your relationship. sense of humor, how petty they (or you) could be, interests, tastes.

the love talking to you. loveeeee talking in general. about things that interest them, about things that interest you, the news, a new book they read. a very curious mind of which they enjoy sharing with you. i mean like up until four in the morning talking to you in bed all while still under the impression that it’s nine o’clock at night. time absolutely flies when it comes to spending time with each other. most importantly ? they listen. really well. like their memory is pretty much photographic. said your favorite food was chocolate covered strawberries one time two years ago ? your fridge will never not have chocolate covered strawberries in it again for the rest of your life.

────୨ৎ────

[rootedinrevisions]

Worth the Effort

Summary: On their first Valentine’s Day together, Glen goes above and beyond to show his love in a way that proves just how much the reader means to him.

Warnings: None! Just pure fluff and good vibes.

Word Count: 4.3k

Author’s Note: Thank you to the Anon who sent in this request! This one was fun to write with the holiday coming up! Also put a little bit of myself in this one as I've never really had a partner put effort into Valentine's Day. So it was fun to brainstorm what someone would do to make Valentine’s Day special!

A Few Days Before Valentine's Day

The phone rings just as you’re settling onto the couch for the evening, the glow of the lamp next to you casting soft shadows against the walls of the living room. You glance at the screen, and the second you see Glen’s name your heart gives an involuntary flutter.

“Hey, babe,” you say, leaning back against the cushions. “Shouldn’t you be sleeping? Isn’t it like…two in the morning over there?”

There’s a chuckle on the other end, warm and familiar. “Nah, we wrapped late, and I couldn’t sleep without hearing your voice first.”

Your stomach tightens. He always knows what to say.

“Well, I’m honored,” you murmur, smiling despite yourself. “How’s London treating you?”

Glen sighs, and you can almost picture him. He’s probably stretched out in some ridiculously nice hotel room, one arm behind his head, hair tousled from a long day on set.

“It’s good. Cold as hell, though.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “You poor thing.”

“I know, right?” he says, voice dripping with mock suffering. “I need to get back to Texas.”

You roll your eyes. “Okay, drama queen.”

There’s a pause just long enough for you to hear the subtle shift in his tone when he speaks again. “Speaking of me coming back,” Glen starts, “don’t make any plans for Friday.”

Your brows pull together in confusion. “Friday?” You blink, glancing at the calendar on your nightstand. “What’s Friday?”

There’s a beat of silence.

“You’re messing with me,” Glen says flatly.

You tilt your head. “I’m… not?”

“Babe.” His voice dips, both amused and exasperated. “Friday is Valentine’s Day.”

Your stomach clenches. Your fingers tighten slightly around the phone, but you force a casual laugh.

“Right,” you say quickly. “Well, you don’t have to worry about coming home for just that. It’s just a stupid holiday.”

You’re met with silence. Not a long one, just a couple of seconds that are barely noticeable, but you hear it. And knowing Glen, he’s probably hearing everything you’re not saying.

He exhales softly. “C’mon, don’t be like that.”

You shrug, even though he can’t see you. “I’m serious. You don’t have to come all the way back just for some commercialized excuse to buy me chocolates and overpriced roses.”

His voice is softer now.  “You really think I’d let our first Valentine’s Day together be just another day?”

You don’t know how to explain what’s going through your head, at least not without sounding pathetic. But the truth is, the only other serious relationship you’ve ever had was with someone who hated Valentine’s Day. He called it pointless. Overrated. He never bought you flowers. Never made plans. Never did anything. And eventually, you just learned to stop expecting it.

Glen, though? Glen isn’t like that.

Still you shake your head, keeping your voice light. “I don’t know. I think you’re underestimating my ability to spend the night in pajamas bingeing bad reality TV.”

There’s a chuckle, but it’s quieter this time. Then, his voice turns gravelly, lower than before. “Sweetheart,” he murmurs, “I already have something planned.”

Your breath catches. “You—”

“I’ll be home Friday,” he promises. “And once I get home I’m all yours.”

* * * * *

Valentine’s Day - Morning

Soft morning light spills through your curtains painting yours and Glen’s bedroom in soft golden hues. You shift under the covers stretching lazily, the quiet hum of the world outside lulling you back into a light doze. For once you don’t have to rush. No work. No emails. No meetings. You took the whole day off not for Valentine’s Day, of course. Just…because. At least, that’s what you told yourself.

The faint sound of the front door unlocking downstairs barely registers in your half asleep state. Your mind lingers somewhere between dreamland and consciousness until a familiar voice cuts through the silence.

“Babe?”

Your eyes flutter open. There’s a brief second where your brain doesn’t quite catch up. Because Glen is in London. He’s supposed to be thousands of miles away.

But then a slow grin spreads across your face as you remember his promise. Pushing the covers off, you scramble out of bed and  run toward the living room. 

The second you turn the corner, there he is. Glen. Standing in your doorway, looking completely and devastatingly like home. His hair is tousled from travel, and his jacket is slung casually over one arm. But it’s the expression on his face that makes your breath hitch. That stupid heart melting smile.

“Hey beautiful,” he says, voice rich with amusement.

You don’t even think. You just launch yourself into his arms. Glen catches you easily, like he’s been waiting for it. One of his arms wraps around you, strong and warm, holding you just tight enough to make your heart squeeze.

“You’re here,” you mumble against his shoulder.

His laugh rumbles through his chest. “Told you I would be.”

You pull back just enough to look at him, your hands sliding to cup his face. He’s slightly scruffy, his jaw rough with the shadow of a beard like he hadn’t bothered to shave before hopping on a plane.

Your fingers brush over the stubble, and Glen just smirks.

“You checking if I’m real?” he teases.

You roll your eyes. “I’m debating if I should kill you for not telling me when your flight was landing. I would’ve picked you up.”

He chuckles, but before you can say anything else he pulls something from behind his back. A bouquet of roses. Deep red, vibrant, freshly wrapped with ribbon.

Your lips part, but for a second, nothing comes out.

Because this has never happened to you before. No one has ever shown up with flowers. No one has ever gone out of their way to make you feel like you’re worth the effort.

Glen watches you carefully, his gaze softer now. “You okay?”

You swallow, nodding as you take the bouquet from him. The petals are velvety under your fingertips, the scent delicate and sweet.

“You didn’t have to do this,” you say, voice barely above a whisper.

He tilts his head. “I know.” Then leaning in he presses a slow, lingering kiss to your forehead. “But I wanted to.”

Your chest tightens. Because for the first time ever Valentine’s Day doesn’t feel like some stupid, commercialized holiday.

It just feels like him.

Glen leans against the kitchen counter, arms crossed over his chest, watching as you tuck the roses into a vase. “So,” he says casually, “what time do you have to be at the office?”

You hesitate for half a second before replying, “I actually took the day off.”

Glen raises a brow, a slow smirk spreading across his face. “Did you now?”

You shoot him a look already knowing where this is going. “Don’t.”

“Oh, I’m definitely gonna.” He steps closer, tilting his head. “Did you take today off to avoid your office turning into a Valentine’s Day war zone?”

You sigh dramatically. “It’s not a war zone. It’s just…” You gesture vaguely. “Okay maybe it is kind of like a war zone.”

Glen chuckles. “So you’re telling me that right now, at this very moment, the entire office is split into two camps. One group gushing over their gifts, the other dramatically swearing off love forever.”

You snort. “Pretty much.”

He grins. “And you just…opted out?”

“I didn’t opt out,” you argue, crossing your arms. “I just thought, you know, a personal day sounded nice.”

Glen hums, unconvinced. “Mhm. Just a total coincidence that you took off work on Valentine’s Day?”

You roll your eyes. “Yes, actually.”

“Uh-huh.” He steps forward, hands slipping around your waist as he leans in. His voice drops, warm and teasing against your ear. “Admit it. You were worried I wouldn’t come back.”

Your stomach flips, but you try to keep your expression neutral. “You are so full of yourself. Not everything is about you, you know?”

He laughs, pressing a quick kiss to the side of your neck before pulling back. “Maybe.”

Moving effortlessly around your kitchen, Glen grabs a frying pan and starts pulling things from the fridge.

You frown. “Are you…cooking?”

He raises a brow. “What, you think just because I’m a pretty face I can’t make breakfast?”

You smirk, hopping up onto the counter. “I think I’ve seen you burn toast before.”

He points a spatula at you. “That was one time. And I was distracted.”

You narrow your eyes playfully. “By what?”

Glen grins. “You, probably.”

Your cheeks warm, but you shake your head laughing as Glen effortlessly takes over the kitchen.

The rest of the morning is easy. Pancakes, fresh fruit, coffee. You sit cross legged on the couch while Glen flips through the channels, landing on an old movie you’ve both seen a dozen times.

The world outside drifts by, but here in this little pocket of time, everything feels calm.

Because it’s not about the holiday. It’s just about being with him.

Later That Afternoon

You’re curled up on the couch, half asleep, when Glen nudges your foot.

“Hey,” he says, stretching. “We should probably get ready soon.”

You frown, peeking one eye open. “For what?”

He smirks. “C’mon. I’ve got plans for us.”

You hesitate, eyeing him suspiciously. “What kind of plans?”

His lips twitch. “The kind where you should wear something nice.”

Your stomach flips. Because Glen Powell does not do basic.

Which means whatever he’s got planned…it’s something big.

You stand in the middle of the walk-in closet, hands on your hips, staring at the rows of clothes as if they might magically assemble themselves into the perfect outfit.

Something nice. That’s what Glen had said. But what does that even mean? Does he mean nice boots and jeans? Like Texas casual nice? Or does he mean nice dinner nice?

You sigh pulling out a dress, then immediately putting it back. You check your phone like maybe Glen has sent some kind of clarification, but no. Just a winking emoji in response to your earlier “Where are we going?” text.

So helpful.

Just as you’re debating whether you should just put on leggings and hope for the best, you hear footsteps behind you.

“You’re overthinking.”

You turn to see Glen leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, grinning like he’s caught you doing something embarrassing.

“I am not overthinking,” you say even though, okay, maybe you are.

Glen pushes off the doorframe and steps inside, his gaze flicking from the half-unzipped dress in your hand to the growing pile of discarded outfits on the bench. “You’re standing in the middle of the closet looking like you’re solving a murder,” he teases.

You huff. “That’s because you were vague.” You gesture toward him. “What does something nice even mean? You’re wearing jeans!”

He glances down at his outfit—jeans and a crisp button up, the sleeves rolled up in a way that does unfair things to his forearms. “Yeah. Because I know where we’re going.”

“That’s not helpful.”

He laughs, stepping closer. “Here.” He slides past you, reaching into your side of the closet like he’s done it a hundred times before. He pulls out a sundress. It’s one of your favorites. Light, comfortable, effortless. The kind of thing that works for a casual dinner or something a little special.

He holds it up. “This one.”

You take it, raising an eyebrow. “You picked that fast.”

He shrugs. “I like this one on you.”

Something about the way he says it is so easy and certain. It sends warmth curling through your chest. You glance at him, suddenly aware of the way he’s watching you, like he already knows you’re going to listen to him.

“Alright,” you say, fighting a smile. “But if I’m overdressed, I’m blaming you.”

Glen grins. “That’s fair.” He leans in, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek before stepping back. “I’ll meet you downstairs.”

You smooth your hands over the dress as you step out of the bedroom, your heels clicking lightly against the hardwood as you make your way down the stairs. There’s a hint of nerves buzzing in your chest. Not because you’re unsure about the date, but because Glen has a way of making everything feel like it means more.

As you reach the last step, you spot him near the front door, messing with his watch. He must hear you approaching because he glances up. And freezes.

His fingers pause, his whole body going still as he looks at you like he’s seeing you for the first time.

You recognize that look. It’s the one he gave you the first time you ever dressed up for an event together. The one he gets when you’re wearing something that knocks the breath out of him.

His lips part slightly, his brows lifting just enough to be noticeable. His eyes take a slow appreciative once over, lingering on the soft fabric of your dress, the way it falls just right, the way it hugs your curves without even trying.

“See something you like?” you tease, one eyebrow quirking as you reach the bottom step.

Glen blinks like you just snapped him out of a trance. Then that easy, borderline cocky grin of his slides into place. “I always do,” he says smoothly, stepping toward you. “But damn, sweetheart.” His voice dips lower warm and teasing. “You really outdid yourself tonight.”

You roll your eyes fighting back a smile. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re stunning.” He closes the space between you, reaching for your hand. His fingers slide against yours, warm and steady. “If I didn’t already have a whole plan for tonight, I’d be seriously reconsidering leaving this house.”

Your face warms at his words, but you shake your head with a laugh. “Well, now I definitely need to know what this plan is.”

He smirks, giving your hand a quick squeeze before leading you toward the door. “Oh, trust me, sweetheart.” He opens the door, gesturing for you to step outside. “You’re gonna love it.”

As you step outside the cool evening air wraps around you, carrying the scent of fresh grass and the lingering warmth of the Texas sun. Glen’s hand is warm in yours as he leads you toward the garage where his truck and SUV sit side by side. Your car is parked in the third spot.

You glance between his truck  and the SUV, expecting him to open the door to one of the vehicles. Maybe he’s planned a nice dinner in town or some kind of fancy event. But instead of going for the truck Glen veers to the side…toward the Gator ATV.

You stop short. “Uh… did you forget we’re dressed nicely?” You gesture between the two of you, your dress swaying slightly with the motion. “Because I don’t think this outfit is exactly ATV appropriate.”

Glen just grins, already pulling open the driver’s side. “You trust me, don’t you?”

You narrow your eyes playfully. “Should I?”

He leans against the roll cage, arms crossed, eyes sparkling with mischief. “I did put in all this effort to plan something special for you.” He tilts his head toward the passenger seat. “So, what do you say? You gonna climb in and find out, or are you gonna stand there and keep looking pretty?”

You bite your lip, giving the Gator a once over. It’s not what you expected, but with Glen the unexpected is usually the best part. With a small sigh you step forward, gathering your dress slightly as you climb into the seat.

Glen smirks as he watches. “See? That wasn’t so bad.”

“I swear, if you send me flying—”

“Sweetheart.” He places a hand over his heart. “I would never let anything happen to you.” Then with a wink he turns the key, and the engine rumbles to life beneath you.

As he pulls out of the garage, the headlights cut through the dusky sky, and the excitement in your chest starts to build. You still don’t know where he’s taking you, but you can already tell whatever it is, it’s going to be unforgettable.

The ride is short, but the anticipation builds with every bump and turn down the dirt path. The air is crisp and fresh, carrying the scent of wild grass and the faintest hint of cedar. The last bit of golden sunlight lingers on the horizon, casting everything in a warm glow.

As Glen slows the ATV to a stop, you finally see it—a clearing in the middle of his land, wide and open, with a sky that seems to stretch forever. And right in the center of it all, a blanket is spread out, a carefully packed picnic basket resting on top, along with a small lantern glowing softly in the evening light.

“You did all this?” you ask softly, turning to Glen as he kills the engine.

He grins, already stepping out of the ATV and moving to your side. “Told you I had something special planned.” He reaches for your hand, helping you down with that effortless, gentlemanly ease that always makes your heart race.

As soon as your feet touch the ground, you kick off your shoes, the cool grass tickling your bare skin. Glen watches with amusement. “Getting comfortable already?”

“You expect me to sit on a picnic blanket in heels?” you tease.

He chuckles, slipping his arm around your waist as he guides you toward the setup. “Fair enough.”

Once you reach the blanket Glen lets go of you just long enough to sit down first. Then with that easy, confident charm, he reaches out offering his hand to you.

You place your hand in his letting him help you down, and as soon as you’re settled, he stays close. One arm propped behind you for support, his body warm and solid beside yours.

“This…” You take another glance around, your heart swelling at the effort he’s put into all of this. “This is amazing, Glen.”

His gaze softens, a small smile playing on his lips. “You deserve it.”

And just like that the tension in your chest, the years of past Valentine’s Days that were ignored or dismissed fades into something warm and weightless.

You bite your lip, trying to suppress the way your emotions threaten to creep up, but Glen must notice because he reaches up, brushing his thumb gently against your cheek.

“Hey,” he murmurs, “none of that. No sad thoughts tonight.”

You exhale a small laugh. “I’m not sad,” you admit. “I just…I think this is the first time Valentine’s Day has actually felt like something special.”

His fingers slide under your chin, tilting your face toward his. His voice is soft, steady. “That’s because you’re special.”

And before you can argue, before you can brush it off, he leans in, pressing a soft lingering kiss to your lips, sealing the moment in a way that leaves no room for doubt.

Glen reaches into the picnic basket, a playful smirk on his face as he starts unpacking the meal he’s carefully put together. There’s fresh fruit, a variety of cheeses, slices of warm bread wrapped in a cloth, and a thermos that smells suspiciously like homemade soup.

You raise a brow. “You went all out for this.”

He grins as he pops open a container, revealing chocolate-covered strawberries. “Told you I had a plan.”

As you both start eating, the atmosphere settles into something warm and intimate. The sky deepens into a soft indigo, stars beginning to peek through, and the lantern beside you casts a cozy glow over the blanket.

At one point, Glen picks up a piece of cheese, holding it out toward you with an exaggerated look of expectation. “Open up, sweetheart.”

You roll your eyes but lean in anyway, taking the bite from his fingers. His smirk widens. “See? That wasn’t so bad.”

You swallow, shaking your head at him. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And yet, you love me.”

You snort. “That’s still up for debate.”

Glen gasps dramatically, clutching his chest as if wounded. “Damn. And here I thought I was winning you over.”

“You’re gonna have to work a little harder than feeding me cheese,” you tease.

He leans in, voice dropping just a little. “Noted.”

Your stomach flutters, but before you can react, Glen reaches back into the basket, pulling something out and setting it in front of you with a little flourish.

“Speaking of working harder,” he says, “here’s your real Valentine’s Day present.”

You blink, looking down at the small, wrapped box in front of you. Your heart stutters. “Glen…”

“No arguing,” he warns, nudging it toward you. “Just open it.”

Your fingers hesitate for a moment before you carefully peel back the wrapping. Inside, nestled in a velvet box, is a delicate bracelet—simple but elegant, with a small charm that catches the lantern light.

You recognize it instantly.

The charm is in the shape of Texas, and etched into it, so small you almost miss it, are the coordinates of Glen’s ranch.

Your breath catches.

“So you always have a piece of home with you,” he murmurs, watching your reaction closely.

A lump rises in your throat as you run your fingers over the charm, heart swelling at the thought behind it.

You glance up at Glen, eyes shining. “I—”

But the words don’t come.

Instead, you reach for him, cupping his face and pulling him into a kiss that’s soft and slow, filled with everything you’re feeling but can’t quite put into words.

You swallow the lump in your throat and whisper, “I love you.”

Glen smiles, pressing a kiss to your nose before pulling you into his arms. “Love you too, sweetheart.”

The sky is painted in soft hues of orange and pink, the last remnants of daylight sinking beyond the horizon. The warmth of the setting sun lingers on your skin, but it’s nothing compared to the warmth radiating from Glen as you lean back against his chest. His arms are wrapped loosely around your waist, fingers idly tracing patterns along your forearm.

You sigh contentedly, tilting your head slightly to look up at him. “This was perfect.”

Glen hums, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Yeah?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

For a while neither of you speak. You just sit there tangled up in each other watching the sun disappear. There’s a peacefulness in the quiet moments between you, in the way Glen’s breath moves steadily against your back, in the way his fingers never stop their gentle absentminded movements against your skin.

And then, as the last bit of daylight fades, Glen shifts behind you. “C’mon,” he murmurs, pressing another kiss to the top of your head before gently pulling away and standing up.

You blink, watching as he makes his way over to the Gator. “Where are you going?”

Glen doesn’t answer. At least not right away. Instead he reaches into the vehicle, flicks on the headlights, and suddenly the entire field is bathed in a warm golden glow. Then from the glove compartment he pulls out a small Bluetooth speaker.

Your heart stutters as he powers it on and scrolls through his phone for a moment before a familiar melody starts playing.

You recognize it instantly. It’s the first song you and Glen ever slow danced to on the first date.

Your breath catches as he turns back to you, the softest smile tugging at his lips. He makes his way over, holding his hand out. “Dance with me?”

You don’t hesitate. Slipping your hand into his, you let him pull you up and guide you into the middle of the makeshift dance floor. The headlights cast a dreamy glow, the stars begin to dot the inky sky above, and the music wraps around you like a warm embrace.

Glen’s hands find your waist, drawing you in close as he sways you to the music. You rest your arms around his neck, your fingers playing idly with the hair at the nape of his neck.

For a moment, you just move together, slow and easy, as if the rest of the world has faded away.

“You remember this?” Glen murmurs, his lips close to your ear.

You nod against his shoulder. “Of course, I do.”

“I do too.” He pulls back just enough to meet your eyes. “I remember thinking that night that I’d do anything to get the chance to dance with you again..”

Your breath shudders, emotion tightening in your chest. “Glen—”

But he doesn’t let you finish. Instead he dips his head and kisses you slow and deep, like he’s got all the time in the world. And maybe he does.

The music plays on, the soft melody weaving between the night sounds of crickets and the occasional rustle of the breeze through the grass. Glen holds you close, his warmth wrapped around you like a second skin, his heartbeat steady beneath your cheek.

Neither of you speak, but words aren’t necessary. Everything you need to say is in the way he holds you, in the way he sways with you, in the way his fingers trace gentle patterns along your spine.

As the song nears its end, Glen presses his lips to your temple, lingering there for a long moment before whispering, “You get it now, don’t you?”

You blink up at him. “Get what?”

He smiles, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “That you deserve this. That you’re worth the effort.” His thumb skims over your cheek. “And that I’d fly across the world a hundred times over just to spend a day loving you.”

The words steal the breath right out of your lungs. Emotion swells in your chest, tightening your throat, burning behind your eyes.

You shake your head, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as you whisper, “You’re gonna make me cry.”

Glen chuckles, tucking you against his chest once more. “Then I guess I’m doing something right.”

And so, you stay there—wrapped up in his arms, slow dancing beneath the stars, as the music fades and the world around you stands still.

Just you and him.

Exactly where you’re meant to be.

[essycogany]

Sonic And Amy Are A Unique Couple

This is a quick Sonamy rant /ramble session. With a few added clarifications too. Enjoy!

This couple is more unique than you’d think. It’s cool if anyone disagrees. I'm all for a polite debate and respect your opinion. But if you're willing to hear me out, I'll be willing to explain myself as clearly as possible. Great? Awesome! Let’s get started!

Amy doesn't want to change Sonic. I will scream this until I'm not able to speak any more that Amy loves Sonic for who he is. She always has but it wasn't until IDW that she expressed it out loud. Still one of my favorite moments between them.

Does that make their relationship unique? Not really. What makes their relationship unique is what Amy loves about Sonic is kind of the reason they're not a couple yet. Sonic is an ongoing force that can’t be stopped or changed. Of course, he’ll allow someone to join him on a race, but he still keeps going. Not to say Sonic won’t stop to smell the roses (pun not intended) but he’ll do it on his own time. Amy always likes to take advantage of those moments and best of all, Sonic doesn’t mind. Even during their old chases, he’d slow down for her. Says a lot about the connection they have but there’s more

Their chemistry is…something for lack of a better term. Their back and forth is so interesting to me. Sonic does like Amy back. Notable examples here but to put it shortly, Sonic doesn’t know what he’s doing when it comes to romance. Sometimes he’s not into it and other times he’s chill. Sometimes Amy is ecstatic and other times she's bashful. I'm looking at you Sonic X.

Every time Amy’s occupied, is when Sonic wants her the most. Amy on the other hand wants Sonic to enjoy his freedom. Neither of them stops to think about how maybe they can have it both ways.

I'll also mention romance isn’t about “being tied down.” That paints romance as if it’s some kind of chain being rapt around your neck or being forced to be with the person. That is not romance. It’s keeping someone hostage. Something Amy would not do. Every time she’d joke around about marrying him Sonic didn’t take it seriously. Heroes included.

Sonic’s line in Heros: “Amy, knock it off. There's no time to play!” Dude knows Amy was messing with him. She was written to be girly, childish, adventurous, and cartoony. No, it wasn’t always executed well. Hello, Sonic Freeriders Amy! But I think this scene summons it up the best.

Important thing to mention as well is Sonic is an outspoken and honest character who rarely lies. It’s either you get the truth or you get nothing. He’s not the type to spare people’s feelings either, so if he had a problem with Amy in the past, he’d tell her directly. I do think she'd also stop if he genuinely told her to. The last thing Amy would want is to tarnish their friendship because of her actions. This loyal girl is so sweet.

Not to mention this is a popular trope in Japan too. The trope was what their relationship was based on.

Back to my original point Sonic and Amy aren’t a traditional couple. That’s a good thing. If they became canon their relationship wouldn’t change if they got together, but also they don’t need labels either. Romance isn’t or shouldn’t be a burden on you. That’s not how love works and that’s not what Sonic believes Amy to be. If that’s the case he wouldn’t be friends with her. Whether you ship Sonic with Amy, someone else, or no one, there should be no doubt Sonic values her friendship.

I’ll also add that Amy is just as up for an adventure as Sonic is. It’s why she loves him so much. They’re a power couple and love going out to travel, so there’s no staying in one place for these two.

In Sonic Adventure 2 you can tell Amy’s intuition when it comes to Sonic. Close to the end, she saw him looking a bit down and noticed his mood shifting a bit. “What’s the matter, Sonic?” “Oh, it’s nothing.” She knows him so well. I don't know what connection they run on but it’s inspiring.

These two don’t have a typical girl/boy relationship. I know some people say, “Well, why can't Sonic and Amy stay friends? Not every male and female relationship needs to be romantic.” You're 100% correct. Here are some examples.

The difference between other relationships is that Amy was created to be a Minnie to Sonic’s Mickey. Which is why these two are treated differently compared to others. Including in merch. There are more examples but I digress. The point is this specific pair is always going to have nuance even if they’re only friends. It doesn’t stop until Amy doesn’t love Sonic and even if it shouldn’t define her, it should still be a part of her. She might work without romance, but we already have other amazing female characters for that.

No one’s obligated to ship them because of this of course. Again, your opinion is still valid, and I will always stick to that point.

Last but not least is their friendship (or situationship) as a whole.

The funny thing is their friendship is what makes their romance the most compelling. The appeal to Sonic and Amy’s dynamic is how much platonic energy they have. Romance doesn’t always mean you need to be lovey-dovey. With Sonamy it’s their powerful friendship that makes the (somewhat not platonic) interactions memorable. You don’t have to choose romantic or platonic. It can be both. I wouldn't be a Sonamy fan if I didn't think their relationship was plain. I'm here because of how different they are.

And I love them to bits. Look at this panel and tell me it isn't running with situationship fuel.

Another fun detail is in recent years despite knowing Amy still loves him, Sonic hugs her back. Even the moments in Sonic X he carries her are moments he offers to. Even when it wasn't necessary.

Can’t forget about the recent asking Amy out to a dinner panel in IDW. He's never done that before. There's a familiarity between the two of them however you look at it. I LOVE them for it.

His moments of genuinely being excited to see her are not due to some development but because Sonic’s passion for Amy has noticeably increased. Why am I bringing these up? It’s because one thing that hasn’t been talked about when it comes to romance is actions. Sure, Sonic doesn't fully confess his feelings to her outwardly. But why do you have to be obvious and in people’s face when it comes to loving someone? In Japan, love is mostly shown through what you do more than what you say. That stuff can happen there but it doesn't always have to. The “Sharing an Umbrella, Amy,” line in Frontiers carries a lot more weight when you think about the implications.

Please read this post by @egalitarian-tomboy if you're interested in the implications of Sonamy in Frontiers.

The up-to-interpretation view of whatever they have together is the main reason I and so many people ship them. It’s not the fact that they are close, but the progression of their closeness. To make a long story short, the appeal of Sonamy is the fact that they don’t have to be traditionally romantic to be an interesting couple. Amy represents expressive love and Sonic represents emotional love.

Stay creative! 💜

[coolemmasulivan2]

A Beautiful Mess | 2

Pairing: Lando Norris

Summary: Two neighbors who can’t stand each other, until an accidental kiss changes everything.

Word count: 3125

You can read part 1 here

Do we need somebody Just to feel like we're alright? Is the only reason You're holding me tonight 'Cause we're scared to be lonely?

It had been a week since you last saw Lando. After his visit to the school, it was like he had vanished. You knew he was home because, as always, he made sure you knew that, but beyond that, there was no sign of him.

The touch of your lips has haunted you ever since. You cursed yourself, telling yourself that you should have pushed yourself away the moment your lips met, you shouldn't have frozen.

"You're not getting it! Our lips touched." You practically yelled at your sister over FaceTime. She burst out laughing. "It's not funny. I hate him."

"If you hate him so much, why are you this worked up?" She teased you.

You frowned. "Are you implying I felt something?"

She shrugged. "Did you?"

"NO!"

At the same time, Lando was telling Max, who was stuffing clothes into his suitcase, since he was going back to Lonon, what had happened.

"It was an accident, dude!" Max said, watching his friend with amusement. "Just forget about it."

"I can't forget it!" Lando groaned, running a hand through his hair. "Our lips touched, Max. I'm getting goosebumps just thinking about it."

Max snorted. "Sounds like you liked it."

Lando spun around. "Are you insane? I meant goosebumps in a bad way. Like… I feel sick."

"Yeah, sure." Max smirked, barely holding back laughter.

You downed the last sip of your coffee, grabbed your bag, and stepped out of your apartment. Today was going to be a good day. You could feel it.

You had woken up early, gone for a run, had breakfast, and still had time to stop by your favorite bakery at the end of the street. Everything felt perfectly in place.

For once, Lando Norris was the last thing on your mind. Or at least, he was supposed to be.

You stepped into the elevator, pressing the button for the ground floor, as you shifted your bag onto your shoulder, but then, just as the doors were sliding shut, a hand shot between them, forcing them open.

Your stomach dropped.

Lando locked eyes with you, before stepping inside. He didn't said anything and neither did you. The doors closed, sealing you both inside the small space. The building had a few years, so the elevator was not that spaceous.

He looked at his watch and run a hand through his curls. He looked like he was in a hurry.

Just five more floors.

Four.

Three.

Then... A jolt.

The elevator shuddered violently before coming to a stop. The lights flickered once, then settled into an unsettling dim glow.

You both froze. Then Lando sighed, pressing the emergency button. Nothing happened.

"You've got to be kidding me." Lando muttered, dragging a hand down his face. "Great. Just my luck." He let out a long sigh, pacing in the cramped space. If the elevator had felt small before, it felt suffocating now.

You, far too calm for his liking, pressed the emergency button a few times. "Can you stop moving?" You snapped, growing irritated.

"Oh, I'm sorry, am I bothering you?" His voice dripped with sarcasm.

You shot him a look. "Yes, actually. You've been bothering me for a while now. Thanks for finally noticing."

Lando scoffed. "Excuse me if I'm not as relaxed as you!"

You could see he was nervous. "If you keep panicking like that, you're going to run us out of oxygen."

His head snapped toward you, eyes wide. "What--?! Aren't you supposed to be a teacher? That's not how you tell someone to calm down!"

"You're not a kid, are you?"

Lando let out a fake chuckle. "Fuck. Why did I have to get stuck with you?"

You crossed your arms. "Trust me, I'm wondering the same thing."

He let out an amused breath, shaking his head. "Please! This is probably going to be the highlight of your day."

"You really think you’re that special? You're just an idiot, Norris." You said, crossing your arms over your chest.

Lando smirked, taking a deliberate step closer. "Well, then it seems we're not that different, princess."

"Don't you have anything better to do? Grow up, please. That pretty face of yours isn't going to get you out of everything forever."

"Oh..." He tilted his head, his smirk widening. "So you think I'm handsome?"

You exhaled sharply. "That's the only thing you got from what I said? You're impossible."

Somehow, the space between you had vanished. You weren't sure who had moved first, but suddenly, he was close. Closer than necessary.

Lando's gaze flickered down to your lips, as he licked his own. The air grew thick. The bickering stopped and he elevator fell into silence.

Your breath caught in your throat. Every logical thought screamed at you to move, push him away, to say something, but you didn't. Neither of you did.

Lando's hand twitched at his side like he was debating whether to reach for you. His chest rose and fell in deep, controlled breaths, but you could see it. He was just as caught in this moment as you were.

Then, just as his face leaned closer and your lips were about to touch, the elevator jerked back to life.

You stumbled slightly, as you immediately took a step back away from each other. He run a hand through his hair and you looked away from him. The air was thick, but neither of you acknowledged it.

The doors slid open and without hesitation, you stepped out, ignoring the concerned doorman who asked if you were okay. You didn't spare him, or Lando, a single glance as you strode out of the building.

Lando watched you go, jaw clenched, hands on his hips. He let out a breath and muttered under his breath: "What the fuck just happened?"

The rest of the day passed in a blur. Even surrounded by a classroom full of energetic kids, you couldn't shake the thoughts swirling in your head.

Why hadn't you pushed him away? Why hadn't you moved? Had you actually… wanted to kiss him? The questions run in your mind, each one making you more frustrated than the last.

By the time you got home, you felt exhausted, not physically, but mentally. You barely made it to the couch before grabbing your phone, dialing your friend number without hesitation.

"Let's go out tonight!" You blurted before she could even say hello.

A beat of silence. Then, suspicion. "Go out as in... clubbing?"

It had been a while. You weren't exactly the party animal type, so your sudden enthusiasm was unexpected.

"Yes!" You confirmed, already sitting up. "I need a distraction. Let's get dinner and then let's go out. Call the others."

"Okay, who are you and what have you done with my responsible and sensible friend?"

"Just be ready."

Determined to wipe the morning from your mind, you took a long shower, letting the heat ease the tension from your shoulders. Then, you dug through your closet, finding a dress you barely remembered owning: it was a red dress that hugged your body in all the right places. Paired with black heels that made your legs look like they belonged on a runway and a swipe of bold red lipstick. You felt powerful and it was just what you needed.

Lando leaned against the DJ booth, his drink on his hand as his friend, Martin Garrix, animatedly talked about his upcoming tour dates.

The club was packed, people moving to the heavy bass, neon lights flickering across the dance floor. It was the perfect place to blow off steam, to forget about the week.

Or at least, it was.

But the moment you walked in with your friends, all thoughts of relaxation evaporated.

Lando stiffened, nearly choking on his drink. "Oh, for fuck's sake."

"WHAT?" Martin shouted over the music.

Lando gestured toward the entrance. "Do you see that group that just walked in?"

Martin followed his gaze, spotting a group of friends laughing as they stepped into the club. "What about it?"

"The girl in the red dress. It's my neighbour!"

Martin's eyebrows shot up. "Wait... The neighbor? The one you kissed?"

Lando rolled his eyes. "We didn't kiss."

"Yet!" Martin smirked, clearly enjoying himself seeing Lando's annoyed face. He turned back to glance at you again. "She's beautiful."

Lando made a face, scoffing like the idea was ridiculous. "She's a nightmare, that's what she is." Martin chuckled, seeing right through him. "And she's a kindergarten teacher, bet it's gonna be real awkward for some parents to see their kid's sweet little teacher dressed like that."

Martin laughed, draping an arm over Lando's shoulder. "Dude, you're so jealous already."

"Shut up. What the hell are you talking about?"

"It's obvious!" Martin smirked. "You like her. And you hate that every guy in this club is about to spend their night looking at her. I can practically see smoke coming out of your ears, mate."

"Fuck off."

Your feet ached, but you didn't care. You were having the time of your life. Hours had passed in a blur of music, laughter, and drinks, and you and your friends hadn't left the dance floor for more than a few minutes at a time.

The alcohol had done its job: Lando hadn't crossed your mind all night. (Well, except maybe now. But that doesn't count.)

Leaning against the bar, you waited for your drink when a man approached you. Tall, broad shoulders, very handsome. And exactly your type.

He flashed you a smile. "Do you come here often?"

You blinked at him before bursting into laughter. "Oh my god. That pick-up line does not match your face."

He groaned, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah, that was terrible. I panicked."

You smirked. "I can tell."

"Not much of a flirt, I guess." He admitted, laughing along with you.

"Clearly."

He stuck out his hand. "I'm Eric, by the way."

You shook it, still grinning. "Y/n."

Lando leaned against the railing, beer in hand, eyes fixed on the bar. He told himself he was just people-watching, just casually scanning the room, but his gaze kept landing on you.

And the guy standing way too close to you.

The guy who looked like he'd stepped straight out of a fashion magazine. Tall, charming, and irritatingly good-looking. The kind of guy who knew exactly how to play his cards.

Lando took a sip of his beer, jaw tightening as he watched you laugh at something the guy said. You were drunk and from the way the guy leaned in, so was he. Too close. Way too close.

"You look like a creep." Martin shouted over the music, snapping Lando out of his glare. "Stop looking at her."

"I'm not looking at her."

Martin snorted. "Right. You're just analyzing the guy she's with." He nudged Lando's shoulder. "Worried she might take him home?"

Lando scoffed, tearing his eyes away. "I don't fucking care."

"Sure." Martin smirked, taking a sip of his drink. He didn't press further, letting his friend drown in jealousy.

You stumbled outside, the cool night air hitting your flushed skin like a slap. Eric followed closely behind, his hand steady on your back as he helped you sit down on a nearby bench as you waited for the cab.

"You're really nice, you know that?" You mumbled, tilting your head to look at him as he sat down beside you.

Eric smiled. "Thank God. I was worried I screwed up my chances with that terrible pickup line."

You laughed softly, resting your head against the cool metal of the bench. "You saved yourself."

"I'm glad!" He admitted, his voice warm. "I had a good time tonight."

"Me too." You sighed, your stomach swirling uncomfortably. You cleared your throat, barely above a whisper as the words slipped out. "I wish you were him."

Eric frowned. "Who?"

Before you could answer, a voice interrupted you. His voice.

"Y/n?" You and Eric both turned, and there he was. Lando. Hands in his pockets, his gaze locked onto you.

Eric's eyes widened in recognition. "Wow. Lando Norris?" He sounded excited, most likely a fan.

But you barely registered his reaction. Your stomach twisted again, and before you could stop it, you shot up from the bench, turned away from them both, and emptied your stomach onto the pavement.

Lando instinctively moved toward you, but Eric was faster. He was by your side, gathering your hair in his hands and rubbing slow circles on your back.

Lando clenched his jaw, watching the way Eric took care of you. It shouldn't bother him, but it did. The guy was too perfect. A walking green flag.

"Are you okay?" Eric asked gently. "Think you can stand?"

You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, groaning as you nodded. Eric helped you to your feet, keeping you steady against his side. "Where's that damn cab?" Eric muttered under his breath, glancing around.

"I'll take her home," Lando said suddenly.

Eric turned to him, brows raised. "What?"

"We're neighbors. She's most likely going to pass out on the way back."

"Yeah, we drank quite a lot." He looked between you and Lando. "Y/n? You okay with that?"

"Hm?"

"Are you okay with going with Lando? Is he your neighbour?" He asked you, and Lando could almost hear himself rolling his eyes. The guy was seriously too nice.

"Yes!" You confirmed. Lando took a step forward and stretched his hands. You blinked up at him, your head heavy. "You're so annoying. Why are you always everywhere?" Despite your grumble, your hands slowly found his.

Eric's lips twitching into a sad smile. He gently let you go as Lando pulled you closer, steadying you against him.

"Thanks for taking care of her." Lando said.

"It was my pleasure." Eric replied, his gaze soft as he looked at you. "She's something special. And I just met her, so…"

You chuckled. "I like you, Eric."

He smiled. "I know, Y/n." Then his expression flickered, just for a second. "But I'm not him, right?"

Lando frowned, watching as you only groaned in response.

Eric let out a small breath before leaning in and pressing a kiss to your cheek. Lando's grip on you tightened.

"It was nice meeting you." Eric said. "Call me sometime, yeah?" He turned to Lando, extending a hand. "Big fan, man. Nice to meet you."

Lando shook it briefly. "Yeah. You too."

Eric gave you one last glance before walking off.

Lando glanced down at you, your body leaning heavily into his side. "Come on, let's get you home."

You hummed, already half-asleep. "Still annoying."

"Yeah, yeah."

Lando pulled into his parking spot, turning off the engine with a quiet sigh leaving his mouth. When he glanced to his right, he wasn't surprised to see you fast asleep, just like he'd predicted.

Your head rested against the window of his McLaren, your mouth slightly open, breaths slow and steady. One of his Quadrant hoodies was draped over you.

Lando exhaled, leaning back against the seat as he stared at you. He'd never really taken the time to look at you before, not like this. You looked… peaceful. And you were indeed a very beautiful woman.

His fingers moved on their own, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face, tucking it gently behind your ear.

"What the hell am I doing?" Lando muttered to himself, running a hand down his face, he groaned under his breath. "I must be crazy."

Shaking off whatever the hell that was, he reached over and carefully pulled your head away from the window. Then, he stepped out of the car, circling around to your side and pulling the door open.

"Y/n?" He called, his voice quiet but firm as he nudged your arm. "Wake up. We're home."

"Hm?" You groaned, keeping your eyes firmly shut.

"Wake up. Come on."

He turned your face into the seat, snuggling deeper into the warmth. "Let me sleep!"

Lando huffed, crossing his arms as he glanced around the dimly lit garage. "If you don't wake up, I'm leaving you here." Nothing. "I cannot believe her." With a sigh, he leaned down, sliding one arm beneath your legs and the other behind your back. He hesitated for a second before carefully lifting you into his arms.

You instinctively curled into his chest, your face pressing against the crook of his neck, a small sigh leaving your lips. Lando froze for a split second, his heart racing in his chest.

Lando stepped into the elevator, shifting you slightly in his arms to press the button for his floor. You were still dead weight against him, your warm breath fanning against the side of his neck. He clenched his jaw, doing his best to ignore the way you seemed to fit perfectly against him.

When the doors opened, he carried you down the hall, stopping in front of your apartment.

"Alright, time to go home." He muttered, adjusting his grip. "Where's your key?" You mumbled something against his neck, your lips brushing against his skin. Then, before he could even react, you wrapped your arms around him, holding him close. "Y/n." He tried again, shaking you gently. "Where's your key?"

Another muffled murmur. He sighed, dropping his head back against the door in frustration. Since you refused to answer him, and since he couldn't exactly rummage through your purse while holding you, he had no choice.

"Alright, you're coming with me." He muttered, carrying you across the hall to his own apartment.

He walked straight to his bedroom, gently lowering you onto his bed. As soon as your back hit the mattress, he exhaled, running a hand through his hair. But just as he moved, you reached out, your fingers curling into the fabric of his white shirt, right where it gaped open.

"Stay." You murmured, eyes still closed.

Lando froze. "You're drunk!" He reminded you, gently prying your fingers off him. You groaned but refused to let go, gripping his shirt again, this time tighter. His breath hitched as your fingertips brushed against his bare chest. "Y/n!"

"Lando!" You snuggled against the pillow, your grip unrelenting. "Stay." You whispered.

Lando clenched his jaw. He should go. He needed to go. But the way you held onto him, the way you looked so small and vulnerable in his bed… it made something twist inside his chest.

With a heavy sigh, he gave in. "Fine! But just until you fall asleep." He told himself that.

And yet, as he laid down beside you, feeling the warmth of your body so close to his, he had a sinking feeling that this was only going to make things a lot more complicated.

Tags:

@lilorose25 @downsideup1989 @anayaverse @ln4-cl16-world @chlmtfilms @444-leqz @joannaln4 @notarshia

[totallyxtaurus]

I just want you to know who I am pt. 2

Summary: What if Sylus had kept going to all those lantern festivals in hopes you’d be there and what would he do if you actually were. Pairing: Sylus x gn reader Genre: Angst A/N: Finally, here's part 2! I just started a new job and it has taken up so much time already plus school work, ugh. I had this second half in mind while writing the first but for some reason this was much harder to write. So, I hope it's okay and not too rushed! I cannot begin to express my thanks to those who liked, commented, and reblogged! I sincerely appreciate you! Enjoy!💗

Frantic. That’s the only word Sylus can use to describe the turmoil raging inside him. His legs propel him forward, fighting against the sea of people, as though he’s swimming upstream, that block him at every turn. He continues to shove past the crowd, guilt rising with each shoulder he knocks into as he forces himself through the press of bodies. Yet, as the light ahead grows shorter, the gnawing guilt fades-replaced by something sharper. 

Finally, he reaches the end of the light, but… there is no one. Just a dark ominous looking alleyway, silent except for a handful of figures loitering at its mouth, smoke curling around their heads as they take a break from the wave of the crowd. His breath catches in his throat, and he’s unsure whether it’s from the exertion of running or the sting of disappointment swelling inside him. His chest heaves, raw and jagged.

The people lingering in front of the alley’s entrance eye him with a mix of suspicion and indifference. But without pause, Sylus steps into the shadows of the alley, the silence sheltering him. Just before the alley curves out of sight, he halts. A soft sound reaches his ears- a voice, tender, and coaxing, murmuring toward something small. A pull tugs at his chest, instinctively, and he presses himself against the rough wall, peering around the corner. 

There, crouched low to the ground, bathed in a soft, golden ray from a nearby streetlamp, is a figure- shrouded in the warmth of the light- offering a stray kitten the remains of some festival food. 

Sylus’ chest, once tight and heaving with the weight of his frantic search, has finally found its calm. The rush of blood in his ears wanes as his breath evens out, all the tension from the day’s chaos melting into something softer. His eyes are drawn to the golden light radiating from the streetlamp, casting a warm halo over the scene before him. It’s not just illuminating the alleyway- it’s unveiling the person he’s been chasing for so long. A gift from fate, just for him. 

Finally. 

Here you are. Of course, this is where you would be. 

You don’t look like how Sylus remembers. The face he searched for in every crowd, the features that haunted his thoughts- none of them matched the person before him now. That explains why the physical descriptions he had gathered came up empty. But it is you. He knows it with the certainty that pulses in his chest. This moment, this scene- it tells him everything.

Everything about you may have changed, your appearance, your posture, the way you carry yourself- it’s all foreign. Yet, despite the shift in the shape of your form, the core of who you are remains untouched. You’re still the person he remembers, the person who’s always been more than superficial.

It’s the tenderness of your gestures, the way you tentatively lean toward the stray kitten, slowly offering it festival food with such gentle care. It’s the way you softly gaze at the creature before you, greedily eating from your hand yet eyeing you cautiously. It has only ever known fear and danger, like him. Yet, there’s empathy in your every movement, an unmistakable kindness. And, in that moment, Sylus realizes that despite all that’s changed, you’ve never stopped being the same person. The one who shared his soul, who saw the world through the lens of compassion despite its cruelty.

As you rise to leave, Sylus has already slipped from his hiding place, merging into the shadows at a safe distance. But he’s not far from you now. He watches as you step back into the crowd, and he knows, from this moment on, you’ll never again be out of his sight. Still, he doesn’t approach.

He tells himself it’s because you’re not ready, that the time hasn’t come for him to reveal himself. But deep down, he knows it’s not you- it’s him. He’s never thought this far ahead, never thought this moment would happen in his lifetime. What would he say? What would he do? The thoughts loop endlessly in his mind, taunting him with the possibility of rejection. And worst of all, what if you don’t remember him? Fear hits him like a bullet, sharp and sudden, tearing through him with a force he knows too well. At least with a bullet, he knows what to expect, how to numb the pain. But this? This feeling? This devastating uncertainty? He’d rather be shot again than feel this way, raw and vulnerable. No, he’s not ready. Not yet.

Instead, he hangs back, careful to stay out of your line of sight, yet his eyes remain fixed on you as you move through the crowd with quiet grace, effortlessly dodging the hustle and bustle around you. There’s a soft caution in the way you navigate, a careful awareness of your surroundings, just like him. He can’t tear his gaze away, tracking every subtle shift in your expression, every stall you pause at. What makes your eyes light up, what catches your attention longer than it should. 

And yet, at this moment, in this aching distance, he finds a strange comfort. Watching you, following you, even if only from a distance, feels like a small but vital victory. It’s more than he ever thought he’d be able to ask for, more than he feel he deserves. For now, this is enough. But then he sees it—just for a moment, a fleeting glance—your eyes flicking over the couples around you, and he recognizes that quiet loneliness in your gaze, that unspoken thought that mirrors his own. You’re alone, just like him. And in that shared loneliness, there’s a bitter kind of understanding. 

That doesn’t stop the yearning from gnawing at him, though. The desire to step forward, to close the space, buries itself in his bones. He must push it down, he must press on, because he’s just not ready. Not yet. But when he is, he’ll come crawling back to you.

[gpcwsl]

Maybe something for wally where she gets a small injury and gets frustrated with the fact that she had so many lately. R takes care of her, makes sure she looks after herself and follows the doctors/physios orders and reassures her she'll be fine, some angst and some fluff at the end

Lia Wälti x Reader

- You don’t get it -

WC: 905

MasterList

Warnings: injury mention? Short?

The sound of Lia’s hiss as she sinks into the couch makes your stomach twist with worry. You can see the way her jaw tightens as she gingerly props her foot up on the cushions, her frustration palpable even though she hasn’t said a word since you left the training ground.

The injury isn’t serious—just a slight sprain, according to the physios—but it’s enough to sideline her for at least a couple of games. And for Lia, that feels like the end of the world.

You sit down beside her, handing her the ice pack you’d wrapped in a towel. “Here. Keep this on it for a while.”

She takes it silently, pressing it to her ankle with a little more force than necessary. You watch her carefully, noticing the way her eyes are fixed on the floor, her brow furrowed.

“Do you want to talk about it?” you ask gently.

She shakes her head, but the tension in her shoulders says otherwise.

“It’s just a small setback, Lia,” you continue, hoping to draw her out. “You’ll be back on the pitch in no time.”

That’s when she snaps. “You don’t get it!” she blurts out, her voice sharp enough to make you flinch. “It’s not just this one. It’s all of them. I feel like I’m constantly getting injured lately. It’s like my body’s falling apart, and I can’t… I can’t keep up anymore.”

The anger in her voice cracks at the end, giving way to something far more vulnerable. She’s not just frustrated—she’s scared.

“Lia…” you start, but she cuts you off.

“What if this is it?” she asks, her voice quieter now but no less intense. “What if my body just can’t handle it anymore? What if I can’t play the way I used to?”

You hate seeing her like this—so defeated, so unlike the steady, composed Lia you know. But you also know that pushing her to look on the bright side isn’t what she needs right now.

Instead, you reach out, placing a hand on her knee. “Hey,” you say softly, waiting until she meets your eyes. “I know it feels like everything’s piling up right now, but this isn’t the end. It’s a sprain, Lia. It’s going to heal, just like all the others did.”

She looks away, her jaw tightening again. “But what if the next one doesn’t?”

You shift closer, your hand still resting on her knee. “Then we’ll deal with it. Whatever happens, you’re not in this alone. You’ve got the team, the physios, the doctors—and you’ve got me.”

Her eyes flick back to yours, and you can see the sheen of unshed tears in them. “I just feel so useless,” she admits, her voice barely above a whisper.

“You’re not useless,” you say firmly. “You’re one of the most talented, hardworking people I know. And taking a few weeks to recover doesn’t change that.”

She doesn’t respond, but the tension in her shoulders softens just a little.

“Now,” you continue, trying to lighten the mood, “you’re going to follow the physio’s orders, take it easy, and let yourself heal properly this time. No rushing back before you’re ready, okay?”

She arches an eyebrow, a hint of her usual sharpness returning. “Are you planning to supervise me?”

“Absolutely,” you reply without missing a beat. “Starting with making sure you don’t sneak out to train when you’re supposed to be resting.”

Her lips twitch, and for the first time since the injury, she almost smiles.

Over the next few days, you take your self-imposed role as Lia’s caretaker very seriously. You make sure she sticks to her physio’s regimen, even when she grumbles about it. You bring her snacks, water, and anything else she might need so she doesn’t have to get up unnecessarily.

At first, she’s resistant—too independent to fully embrace being looked after. But as the days go by, she starts to relax, leaning on you a little more, both physically and emotionally.

One evening, as you’re helping her adjust the ice pack on her ankle, she speaks up.

“You know you don’t have to do all this, right?” she says, her tone soft but serious.

You glance up at her, surprised. “Of course I do. Why wouldn’t I?”

She hesitates, looking down at her hands. “Because it’s a lot. I don’t want to be a burden.”

“You’re not a burden, Lia,” you say firmly, taking her hand in yours. “You’d do the same for me if the roles were reversed.”

She looks up at you, her expression unreadable for a moment before it softens. “Thank you,” she says quietly.

“Always,” you reply, giving her hand a gentle squeeze.

By the end of the week, Lia’s mood has improved significantly. She’s still frustrated by her limitations, but the spark in her eyes is starting to return, and she’s even laughing more often.

One night, as you’re sitting on the couch together, her head resting on your shoulder, she lets out a contented sigh.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” she murmurs, her voice drowsy but sincere.

You smile, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Luckily, you’ll never have to find out.”

She chuckles softly, the sound warming your heart. And as you sit there, holding her close, you know she’ll be okay—and so will you, as long as you’re by her side.

[reverie-starlight]

happy valentine's day!! please be kind to me. this is my first time writing for baji, so I'm still figuring out characterization!! sorry if he's a bit ooc :'). not edited.

fem!reader, no physical descriptions. reader has a dog, baji is down bad and sucks at flirting, you find it endearing. this got kind of long. fluff, first dates. TR MANGA ENDING SPOILERS!!!

the front door swings open, and a little bell (part of a defective cat toy that they couldn’t sell- kazutora’s idea) signals that a new customer has walked in.

baji almost can’t believe his eyes when he looks up from his textbook. he barely has enough time to compose himself before you glance at him, but he manages, and gives you a quick smile and a nod. he’s worried that if he speaks, he’ll stumble over his words and make a fool out of himself.

you’re gorgeous.

absolutely stunning, actually, and he can’t picture this interaction going very well for him if past experiences are anything to go by.

you’ve been in here before, he’s exchanged a few words with you when he’s had to ring you up, but that’s about it. even then, he had stumbled through grabbing your change from the register and wishing you a nice day.

usually chifuyu or kazutora are the ones to help you find what you need, but one of them is on lunch and the other isn’t scheduled to come in until later.

he silently curses them both for leaving him alone now of all times, but he knows his frustration is misplaced.

he’s just nervous because you’re here, and you look like that, and he’s not sure he’ll be able to get through this without revealing his massive crush on you.

maybe him working alone right now is a blessing in disguise- he doesn’t have to deal with his friends’ teasing about his new ‘girlfriend’.

he doesn’t even know your name, but he’d sure as hell like to.

he lets you look around for a minute while he gathers up the courage to ask you if you need help finding anything.

when you go down aisle four, he takes in a deep breath and mentally hypes himself up.

c’mon keisuke, this is pathetic. you used to fight off loads of guys at once, you can talk to the pretty girl.

as soon as he breaks out of his thoughts and moves to find you, he blinks once and you’re suddenly right in front of him.

he thinks he'd actually rather be back in a ten versus one right about now.

“hi,” you say, sporting a sheepish grin. “could you help me find the leashes and collars?”

his mind goes blank and he's unable to form any words, letting the silence linger long enough for it to deemed incredibly uncomfortable.

“uh…” you adjust your grip on the strap of your bag apprehensively. “I checked aisle four, ‘cause that’s where they usually are, but I couldn’t find them…” you shift on your feet, clearly not sure how to take his reaction to your question.

this snaps him out of it immediately and he nods. “right, we’re movin' stuff around to make room for some new inventory,” he finally responds.

your smile is bright and reassuring, like you somehow know he’s having a tough time forming full sentences. “oh, well that explains it!”

he swallows the last of his nerves and nods, finding himself smiling with you. “yeah,” he regains use of his body and leads you down aisle seven. “the leashes and collars should be down here now… what kind were ya looking for?”

“anything fit for medium dogs. adjustable, so she can grow into it.”

he nods again, checking the different styles and brands, thinking for a moment. “hmm… what breed?”

“a husky,” you reply, and he likes the way your eyes shine with excitement. “so something that’s good for dogs that pull, ideally.”

he hums and forces himself to break eye contact so that he doesn’t lose track of what he’s doing. "a puppy?"

"yeah, finally old enough to start taking her on walks but she's already a handful."

“cute," he chuckles. "if you’re trying to limit pulling, why don’t you try the gentle leader instead of a heavy duty collar?”

you tilt your head and he worries for a second that you’ll be able to hear his heart pounding against his chest with the brief silence. “I think I’ve heard of that, but how does it work?”

“it’s meant to go around their snout and tug on them when they get ahead of themselves. it doesn't hurt 'em though, just turns their head to the side."

you hum and he almost spaces out again watching you inspect the box he hands you. he thinks he'd very much like to have you pay that much attention to him one day.

then you smile up at him and say "alright, I'll take it!"

"great, I'll check you out- wait not like that, I mean ring you up-" his face burns as he stumbles over his words and you giggle a bit, following him back over to the cash register.

"thanks for your help... baji," you say, leaning over a bit to read his nametag and hand him some cash.

"no problem," he puts your items in the bag, wondering if he should finally ask for your name too.

then something interesting happens.

he watches as you fiddle with your bags, seemingly taking your time getting your things together. your eyes flicker up to meet his briefly and his heart does something funny in his chest as he allows himself to hope he's picking up the right vibe from you.

finally you seem to come to a conclusion and shake your head slightly and smile at him once more before finally leaving with a murmured, "see ya."

the hope deflates as the bell rings and you walk out of XJ Land. next time, keisuke, he thinks to himself, and opens up his abandoned animal science textbook now that the shop is empty again.

a few minutes later, chifuyu comes back from his break and nods at baji, holding up a bag of takeout. "I got us some lunch from that place down the-"

the bell rings one more time and chifuyu jumps out of the way to avoid being knocked out by the door you flung open.

baji raises an eyebrow, his heart doing something funny in his chest as you march up to him, a determined look on your face.

"hey... would you like to go out with me sometime?"

one week later you're sitting on the floor of your room trying to figure out what on earth to wear for your date with baji keisuke (you learned his full name when he put his number in your phone and set up his contact info).

after you had barged back into the pet shop and slammed your palms on the counter to ask him out, you've texted a fair bit back and forth trying to figure out a good day for both of you.

during your conversations, you learned that aside from working at XJ Land, he's also studying to become a vet and that's why he usually has a textbook with him in the shop. he's funny, very thoughtful as well, which is a nice surprise. you've had your eye on him for a while. every time you'd go into the shop to grab something, you'd do everything you could to talk to him, but someone else always managed to help you out before you had a chance.

so when you walked by that day and noticed he was working alone? you knew you had to make your move (...even if it took you a minute to build up the courage to do so).

he even offered to plan the date and pick you up, which you agreed to right away once you had set a date (friday- today), but left you with no hints on how to dress.

something keeps drawing you to him- you're not sure if it's his hair or the set of fangs that poke through when he smiles, but you're certain that you can't just let him pass by you and stay curious forever.

you finally land on an outfit that you believe would work for any occasion and spend whatever time you had left dealing with the finishing touches before you hear a knock on your door.

right on time.

you open up to see your date holding flowers and sporting a warm smile.

"hi," he greets you, holding out the bouquet. the tag attatched to it has your name scrawled in slightly messy handwriting, but it's legible all the same. his handwriting, perhaps?

"these are beautiful," you say, taking them and admiring them. you hold the door open a bit wider and welcome him in. "I'm just going to put these in some water before we go."

he nods and shuts the door behind him as you walk to the kitchen to find some sort of makeshift vase to put the bouquet into. you hear your dog rustle around in her crate and shush her a little, trying to soothe her. "it's okay, I'll be back in a few hours."

once you're done with the flowers and you've slipped the puppy a treat through the bars, you head back out to the front entrance and smile at him. "you look very nice, by the way," you say, admiring his black leather jacket and button down shirt.

it seems like you dressed appropriately after all.

"thanks," he says, "you um. you definitely outshine me," his delivery is a bit awkward and he looks like he regrets it as soon as he closes his mouth.

you giggle and put your coat on. "thank you, baji."

"uh, I haven't seen your dog around, I remember ya mentioned she's still a puppy... will she be okay?" he asks as you lock your door and start heading towards the elevator.

your heart warms at the thought of him remembering that. "that's sweet of you to ask. she's still too young to be left alone for more than an hour, but my friend is stopping by later to spend time with her while I'm gone."

you make casual conversation about how his most recent exam went among other things until you make it outside. you let him lead the way to his ride and come to a stop in front of his... motorcycle?

"you ride a motorcycle?" you ask, in awe of the way he pulls out a helmet and hands it to you.

"mhm, I've been ridin' since I was a teenager. you're in good hands, don't worry."

like you were in doubt.

"have you ever ridden before?" he tilts his head and helps you onto the back of the bike.

"no, but I've always wanted to."

he grins and you can't help but smile back when his fangs pop out again. he helps you fasten the helmet and then gets settled, starting up the bike. "hold on to me, we don't want ya falling off."

so you do, letting yourself get impossibly close to him as you ride off into the night, both secretly hoping that this will be the start of something incredible.

had to cut it off kinda abruptly, but hope you enjoyed!! trust that there will be a lottt more baji in the coming months, I adore him :(( this feels a bit choppy, even to me, but I'll get better at writing him, I swear.

thank you @softshuji for helping me out with some of the finer details, I so so soooo appreciate it !!! <3

@emmyrosee hehe here it issss

[christopherisfoive]

Underneath It All

Han x reader (College AU)

Note: I miss writing dearly however I can not get myself to do so. I have been reading stuff by others and missing those authors who are away. I hope to be able to read their work again soon xx

word count: 5.4k

I let my eyes wander to the bench where he sat with his friends, talking and eating his lunch. From the curl of his hair to the color of his lips, I was always enamored with his presence. I understood his appeal—the way girls around the school followed him, talking to his friends just to steal a moment of his attention.

I sighed and lowered my gaze to the grapes on my tray.

"I don't understand why you don't just go up to him and talk like everyone else does," my friend Kat said. She always insisted I had the confidence to do whatever I wanted—just like she did.

"It's because I can't do that. I'm not you. Also I don't really get the hype."

She huffed and stuffed one of my grapes into her mouth. I shot her an unserious look, but luckily, she turned the conversation around, and we started talking about finals next week. I tried to lure my brain back to its senses, forcing myself to forget about the puffy-cheeked boy sitting mere feet away.

I hear the screeching of a chair and glance up just as Han stands with his tray. Our eyes meet for a split second. His gaze sharpens, a flicker of something unreadable passing through them before his expression hardens—dismissive, like we were kids at the playground and I had just stolen his favorite toy.

“Something interesting?” he says, cocking a brow.

I clear my throat and look away, pretending to focus on the grapes on my tray. “Not at all.”

He huffs a laugh under his breath, low enough that only I catch it. When I glance up again, he’s already walking away.

Kat smirks. “Oooooh, tension.”

I roll my eyes and swipe a fry from her plate, ignoring the smug look on her face. I just wanted the next class to come already.

Hours pass, and somehow, I make it to the end of the day. My last class—Art Concepts—is with the least engaging professor in the entire university.

Most days, I can focus just fine, but on select afternoons like this, I find myself sketching assignments for my drawing courses instead.

I usually kept to myself in this class anyway. It just so happened that Han and his two friends, Hyunjin and Felix, were also enrolled.

Today, though, I only saw his friends—no Han in sight.

Fifteen minutes passed, and the professor still hadn't shown up. The room buzzed with quiet conversations, but most students were just waiting. I let my mind wander, zoning out as my gaze settled on the only empty desk beside me.

I didn’t even realize how long I had been staring until a familiar, taunting voice broke through my thoughts.

"Are you, like, alive? Or…?"

I blinked and looked up—straight into Han’s gaze.

I hadn’t even noticed him walk in. But now, standing there with that ever-present smirk, he seemed way too amused. And worse? While I had been lost in my thoughts, I completely missed the fact that this was the only open seat left.

"Huh? Oh, yeah. Just waiting," I respond nonchalantly, forcing my voice to stay even.

I look away before he can catch the shift in my mood, but I swear he senses it anyway.

Han hums, dragging out the sound like he doesn’t quite believe me. "Right. Just waiting. Definitely not zoned out, looking completely lost in thought or anything."

I scoff, finally glancing back at him. "Do you always narrate people’s lives, or am I just lucky?"

His smirk widens as he slides into the empty seat next to me. "Oh, you’re definitely lucky."

I can feel the warmth of his presence, the slight brush of his arm against mine, but I refuse to acknowledge it. Instead, I turn my focus back to my sketchbook, determined not to let him get under my skin.

But he’s relentless. "You’re awfully quiet now," he says, voice low enough that only I can hear. "You were doing so well with that attitude a second ago."

I glance at him again, my eyes narrowing. "Maybe I just don’t have the energy for you today."

His lips twitch, and he leans in slightly, too close for comfort. "Lucky for you, I’m not going anywhere."

I roll my eyes, turning my attention to my sketchbook instead of whatever this was turning into.

I put the rest of my energy into finishing my sketch, hoping the professor would show up—though I wouldn’t be surprised if we got a last-minute cancellation email. My eyelids felt heavy, and my head bobbed every so often, fighting sleep.

Suddenly, I sat up straight, forcing myself to stay awake.

I could feel Han’s gaze shift toward me. His eyes flicked up and down, like he was assessing me. "You good?"

I didn’t even look at him, keeping my focus on my sketchbook. "Yeah. Just… tired."

He tilted his head slightly, clearly intrigued. "Tired? Or just bored?"

I gritted my teeth, trying to keep my cool. "A little bit of both. How about you? Enjoying the show?"

Han chuckled, leaning back in his seat, clearly enjoying the game. "Oh, I’m enjoying it alright. Watching you struggle to stay awake? Priceless."

I bit back a sarcastic reply, but I couldn’t help the heat rising in my cheeks. He was right, and the worst part? He knew it.

"Why did you show up late? Didn’t want to sit with your buddies today?" I ask with a small, teasing smile, barely keeping the smugness out of my voice.

Han quirks an eyebrow, clearly surprised by the question. For a moment, his usual cocky expression falters. "What, you think I’m avoiding them?"

I shrug casually, keeping my gaze fixed on my sketchbook, though I can’t help but notice how he leans in slightly, probably trying to figure me out. "Could be," I say with a slight smirk, though the truth is, I was just trying to throw him off.

He chuckles, but there’s a certain glint in his eyes now. "You don’t know me as well as you think, do you?"

I smile meekly, a bit of satisfaction tugging at the corners of my lips. Maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

He leans in a little, voice dropping. "Or maybe I just don’t need them to have a good time."

My heart skips a beat at the implication, but I don’t let it show. "Really? So you're fine with sitting next to me then?" I raise an eyebrow, trying to keep the challenge alive.

He smirks, leaning back again. "Oh, I don’t mind. You make this class way more interesting."

I roll my eyes, not sure whether I should be annoyed or… flattered? Either way, I keep my cool. "Sure, because I’m the life of the party."

Han chuckles softly, but there’s something about the way he’s looking at me now. "You’d be surprised."

I sit back in my chair, glancing down towards the front of the class, trying to ignore the slight unease swirling in my chest.

Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Hyunjin and Felix staring at us—eyes flicking between me and Han. The second they realize I’ve caught their gaze, they quickly look away, though I swear I see the corners of their lips twitching.

I try not to let it get to me, focusing on the front of the room instead, but it’s impossible not to feel like I’ve become the topic of their conversation.

Han, of course, notices their quick reaction too, and I can almost hear the smug satisfaction in his voice when he speaks. "They can’t keep their eyes off us, huh?"

I sigh inwardly, not giving him the satisfaction of looking his way again. "Maybe they’re just bored."

Han leans closer, his voice a little quieter now, like he’s sharing a secret. "I think they know something’s going on. Maybe they’re waiting for us to make a move."

I raise an eyebrow and cross my arms, leaning back slightly in my chair. "And what kind of move would that be?"

Han tilts his head, a glimmer of curiosity behind his smirk. "I don’t know… something a little less, uh, distant." His gaze flicks briefly to my face, studying me.

I give him a pointed look. "Distant? I’m not the one leaning in every two seconds."

He chuckles, clearly amused by my response, but there’s a flicker of something else in his eyes. "True. You’re different from the others."

I scoff, leaning forward a little. "And what’s that supposed to mean?"

He shrugs casually, but I can see a slight shift in his posture, as if he’s trying to gauge me a little more. "Just that… most girls are pretty eager to talk to me. But you? You don’t exactly jump at the chance."

I keep my expression neutral, but a little voice in the back of my mind tells me he’s digging for something more. "Guess I’m just not like them."

Han raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "Guess not." He leans back in his chair, his eyes lingering on me for a moment longer than I’m comfortable with. "But it’s interesting, don’t you think? The way you’re not all over me like everyone else."

I don't respond to him. Not because I have nothing to say but because I have this horribly feeling that if I do I'll confess to him about all the times I have thought about talking to him.

I don’t respond to him—not because I have nothing to say, but because I have this horrible feeling that if I do, I’ll accidentally confess to him all the times I’ve thought about talking to him.

The thought hits me like a wave, and my throat tightens. I can’t bring myself to say anything more. If I open my mouth, I might just blurt out all the things I’ve been trying to avoid. All the days I’ve watched him from across the room, imagining what it would be like to just walk up to him and say something.

Instead, I stay silent, hoping he doesn’t notice the way my heart’s picking up speed. I keep my gaze locked on my sketchbook, willing myself to focus on the lines in front of me, even as his presence next to me feels too loud.

Han doesn’t push me for an answer, but I can feel his eyes on me—probing, like he’s waiting for me to crack.

I can feel my heart beat in my ears, each thud louder than the last. My breath catches in my throat, and before I can stop it, I let out a small, awkward cough, hoping it’ll cover up the fact that I’m suddenly drowning in this unwelcome feeling.

I try to look down at my sketchbook, but it’s like the weight of his gaze is heavy on me now. I know he’s still watching, and it makes my skin burn with embarrassment.

"Are you okay?" Han’s voice breaks through the silence, and it’s so much softer than I expect.

I swallow hard, willing my face to stay neutral. "Yeah, fine," I say quickly, trying to sound casual, but I can feel the heat in my cheeks betraying me.

I glance at him, just for a second, and then immediately look away when I realize the intensity in his eyes. Great, now he probably knows I’m acting weird.

I glance at him, just for a second, and then immediately look away when I realize the intensity in his eyes. Great, now he probably knows I’m acting weird.

Han doesn’t laugh or tease this time. Instead, there’s a moment of silence, and then his voice comes, softer than before. "You sure you’re fine?"

I look up at him, trying to keep the nervous flutter out of my chest, but his gaze is a little too intense. I open my mouth to respond, but the words don’t come out immediately. Why is he being like this?

He leans a little closer, his tone casual but with an undertone of something more. "You don’t usually act like this. You, uh, okay?" His eyes flicker to my face, like he’s trying to read me.

For a second, I consider just brushing it off. But the way he’s looking at me—so quietly observant, like he’s seeing through my walls—makes me hesitate. I can’t just say something random and pretend everything’s fine.

I clear my throat, finally forcing words out. "Yeah. I’m just tired."

Han doesn’t seem entirely convinced, but he doesn’t push further. He leans back, though his gaze still lingers for a moment longer than I expect. "Alright. Just making sure."

By this time, it's been almost thirty minutes, and the professor still hasn’t shown up. I glance at the clock, my patience running thin. I decide that saving myself by leaving is the best option. The thought of heading back to my dorm and possibly taking a nap on my desk sounds like pure bliss right now.

I start packing my things back into my bag, my mind already half-out the door. I’m just about to zip it up when I rub the exhaustion out of my eyes, feeling the weight of the day settle in.

Before I can grab my bag and head out, I hear Han’s voice again, this time sounding a bit more serious than I expect. "You leaving?"

I pause, the motion of stuffing my sketchbook into my bag halting as I glance up at him. Han’s eyes are no longer playful, and his posture is slightly more upright, like he's actually paying attention to me for the first time today.

I hesitate for a second, debating whether to just walk away or give him some kind of answer. Finally, I shrug, trying to sound casual even though I can feel the heat rising in my chest. "Yeah, don’t think this class is happening."

Han studies me for a moment, and then his lips curl into a small, almost knowing smirk. "You sure about that? I think you just might be missing something."

I can’t tell if he’s being sarcastic or genuine, but it’s enough to make me stop mid-motion. I stare at him, my hand frozen on the zipper of my bag. Is he serious? Does he want me to stay?

I stare at him for a moment, unsure if I heard him right. His expression has shifted again, no longer playful, but still too hard to read. My heart skips a beat, and I feel a strange pull—like maybe I’m missing something, like maybe he wants me to stay.

I glance at the door, my mind already made up. I should just leave. This class is practically canceled anyway.

But something in the way Han is looking at me makes me pause. Why do I feel like I’m being baited?

He raises an eyebrow, as if he’s waiting for me to say something, but all I can do is stare back, unsure of how to respond. I can’t decide whether it’s his confidence or the curiosity building between us that’s keeping me rooted to the spot.

Finally, I let out a small, almost nervous laugh. "You really think the professor is going to show up?" I try to keep my tone light, but it’s clear I’m still trying to deflect.

Han just shrugs, leaning back slightly in his chair, his smirk returning. "Could be. Or maybe, you're just avoiding something."

I frown, unsure of what he means, but the way he says it catches my attention. He’s not even teasing anymore. There’s something in his eyes—something that makes me feel like he’s trying to figure me out, in the way that only someone who’s actually paying attention would.

I bite my lip, looking back at my bag again, but somehow, I don’t feel the urge to rush out the door anymore. I feel... caught.

Han’s eyes flicker to my bag and then back to me. "You know, I’ve never actually seen you stick around after class." His voice is low, and even though he sounds nonchalant, there’s a subtle weight behind it. "What’s the rush?"

I feel my stomach flip. He’s definitely noticed something, and I’m not sure if I like that.

I bite my lip, my fingers tracing the edge of my bag, the words swirling in my head. It’s you. You’re the reason I feel like I’m in a rush.

But I can’t say that. I can’t tell him that.

Instead, I clear my throat, trying to shake the weight of my own thoughts off. "I don’t know, maybe I just... have stuff to do." The words feel hollow, like they’re coming from someone else, but I push them out anyway, hoping it will stop him from seeing right through me.

Han doesn’t seem convinced, though. His gaze never wavers, like he’s watching for any little sign I might give away. And somehow, I feel like I’m standing completely exposed, like he knows exactly what I’m thinking but is waiting for me to say it.

I shift in my seat, trying to keep my cool. "I don’t like staying after class. Just feels... pointless."

He raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. There’s something about the way he looks at me that makes me feel like he’s trying to coax me into admitting something—anything.

I let out a breath, my heart beating just a little faster. There’s this feeling creeping up my chest, like maybe, just maybe, if I told him—if I said the words—something would change. But I can’t.

"Anyway," I say, my voice steady but shaking on the inside, "I should probably go."

I stand up quickly, trying to escape the suffocating tension. I can feel his eyes on me as I move, and it makes my pulse quicken even more. It’s him. He’s the rush. He’s the one who keeps me from leaving. But I can’t say it. Not now. Not ever.

I push through the door of the building, the cool air hitting my face as I step outside. I take a deep breath, hoping the open space will calm my nerves. The campus is quieter now, the usual hustle and bustle having quieted down as students filter out of the building, heading in different directions.

Finally. I’m free.

But as I take a step forward, I hear the sound of footsteps behind me. A little too close to be a coincidence.

I don’t turn around. I can’t turn around.

I keep walking, my steps faster now, almost instinctively, trying to escape this strange feeling gnawing at me. I feel the weight of his gaze even without looking back.

But then, out of nowhere, I hear his voice.

"Not running away again, are you?"

I freeze. My heart stumbles in my chest. Han’s standing just behind me now, a few steps away but enough to make it impossible to ignore him. The teasing tone is still there, but it’s quieter, more deliberate. His presence is almost… unsettling now.

I slowly turn to face him, trying to keep my expression neutral, but I’m sure he can see the flicker of confusion in my eyes. He looks completely unbothered, like following me out here was the most normal thing in the world.

"I’m not running away," I say quickly, my voice a little sharper than I intended. I don’t even know why I feel defensive; it’s not like I owe him an explanation.

Han doesn’t seem to mind my tone. He just looks at me with that same unreadable expression. His eyes flicker toward the building we just came from, then back to me.

"So, what is it then?" His voice is low, casual, but the question hangs in the air like a challenge. "You avoiding me?"

I laugh, but it’s tight, forced. "No, I’m not avoiding you." My stomach twists, but I refuse to let him see how much his words are affecting me.

Han steps closer, the space between us shrinking, and I feel my pulse quicken. "Funny," he says with a half-smile, his gaze intense. "Because it sure seems like it."

I try to step around him, my thoughts a jumbled mess, but Han steps into my path again, blocking my way. There’s a smirk tugging at his lips, but his eyes are serious now. He’s not playing games anymore.

"Are you really just going to walk away?"

My breath catches, but I stay silent, my heart pounding like it’s about to escape my chest. I glance up at him, and he’s looking at me with that same piercing gaze. I feel pinned in place, like I’m stuck between wanting to run and wanting to stay.

I take another step, trying to brush past him, but Han mirrors me, moving just slightly to the side to stay in my path.

"What are you so afraid of?" he asks, his voice low, almost like he’s teasing, but there’s a seriousness in the way he looks at me. "You can’t just walk away from this."

I turn my back to him, taking a deep breath to steady myself. He’s not going to let it go.

"What’s your deal, huh?" I snap, spinning around to face him, my voice shaky but loud. I can feel my emotions starting to spiral out of control. "Why do you keep doing this? Why do you keep following me?"

His eyes widen for a split second, but then he’s right back to that confident, collected expression. He steps even closer, barely any space between us now. "I don’t know. Maybe I’m just curious."

His words hit me like a punch to the gut, and before I can stop it, the floodgates open. "Curious?" I laugh, the sound coming out bitter. "You want to know why I’m avoiding you, right?"

I don’t wait for him to answer. The words are spilling out before I can think, like they’ve been locked inside me for far too long.

"It’s you, okay? You… you intrigue me." I wince as I say it, my own voice feeling too loud, too vulnerable. "I can’t stop thinking about you. I think about talking to you all the time, and I just… I just can’t."

I can’t believe I’m saying this. My heart is racing so fast, I’m sure he can hear it. I’m terrified of how exposed I feel, how raw my emotions are right now.

Han’s eyes soften, just slightly, and for a second, I think maybe he’s going to say something comforting, but then his lips curl into a small smile.

"So, you do want to talk to me, huh?" He leans in a little closer, his voice almost a whisper. "Then why don’t you?"

I open my mouth, but no words come out. I want to run away. I want to disappear into the ground and never come back. But I can’t. Not now. Not with him standing there, waiting for me to finish what I started.

I stand there, frozen, my heart pounding so loud I’m sure he can hear it. His eyes are still on me, waiting for my next move, the silence stretching between us like an invisible thread pulling me in.

"So, you think about talking to me all the time?" Han’s voice is a little lower now, almost teasing, but there’s something behind his words I can’t quite place. He steps just a little bit closer, his proximity making everything feel heavier.

I try to pull back, but something in me is rooted to the spot. "I…" My voice falters, and I swallow hard, feeling the weight of his gaze bearing down on me. It’s like he’s waiting for me to crumble.

He watches me for a moment, his eyes glinting with something that I can’t quite name. Then, finally, he steps back just a bit, his shoulders softening, as if he’s deciding to give me space. But instead of turning away, he looks at me with a soft, genuine smile.

"I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable," he says quietly. The teasing edge is gone, replaced by something warmer. More real. "I just… didn’t expect you to say that."

The words settle around me like a weight, and for the first time since this entire conversation started, I feel like I can breathe. His presence isn’t overwhelming now—it’s almost comforting. Like he’s not trying to get anything out of me, but just… understanding.

I don’t know why, but the sudden shift in his demeanor makes me feel like I’ve been holding my breath all this time.

"You intrigue me, too," I say softly, my voice barely above a whisper. It feels almost like a confession, but it’s true.

I can’t look at him directly, not after everything I’ve said, so I focus on my hands, suddenly feeling all too aware of how much I’ve just exposed. My cheeks heat up, and I pray he won’t notice.

But then, Han reaches out, just lightly touching my arm, and my heart skips a beat. It’s so gentle, almost like he’s trying to steady me without saying a word.

"It’s okay," he murmurs, his voice soft, the teasing gone completely now. "You don’t have to explain yourself."

And just like that, everything that had felt so heavy—so intense—begins to soften. The walls I had built up around myself start to crumble in the most unexpected way. I feel my shoulders relax for the first time since I’ve known him, and I can’t help but smile softly.

For a moment, we just stand there, the silence stretching between us like a quiet thread connecting us in ways I never imagined. My heart is still racing, but it’s not in a panic anymore. It’s the kind of racing that feels real, like something is about to change.

Han’s gaze doesn’t waver from mine, and I can feel the weight of everything I’ve just said hanging in the air. His eyes soften just a little, and I wonder if he can feel the shift too. Maybe he’s as caught up in this as I am.

The tension feels like it’s building again, but this time it’s different. It’s not awkward or uncomfortable—it’s something else. I don’t know if it’s the way he’s looking at me, or if it’s because I finally said the truth out loud, but I can’t look away. I don’t want to.

But before I can say anything else, I hear the sound of footsteps approaching. My heart gives a little lurch, and I look away just as Hyunjin and Felix come around the corner of the building. Han doesn’t break eye contact with me until they catch up, and then he turns his head slightly, breaking the spell we were caught in.

"Hey, guys," Han says, his tone shifting as his friends approach. They give him a knowing look, and then they glance at me, but they don’t say anything right away. It’s like they’re waiting for him to explain.

I clear my throat, suddenly feeling a little out of place. "Hey," I mumble, trying to act casual even though my heart is still pounding.

Han looks over at me, his eyes glinting with a teasing edge again, but there’s something different in his expression this time.

"These are my friends, Hyunjin and Felix." He gestures toward the two of them. "You’ve met Felix before, right?"

Felix gives me a warm smile, his eyes lighting up when he sees me. "Yeah, I think we had a class together last semester!"

Hyunjin just gives me a small nod, his eyes sharp, but he doesn’t say much. I’m sure he’s observing everything, like he always does.

I try to smile back at them, but the conversation feels a little distant now. I’m still reeling from the earlier exchange with Han, and now, with the three of them standing there, I’m not sure what to say.

"Nice to meet you both," I say, my voice a little quieter than usual.

Han catches my eye again, and I can feel the unspoken words between us. The way he looks at me now is different—like he knows something I don’t.

As soon as Hyunjin and Felix join us, the atmosphere shifts again. I notice Felix giving me another friendly smile, but Hyunjin, on the other hand, seems to be observing us a little too closely.

Han looks at him for a moment, his expression shifting to one of mild annoyance. "What?" Han asks, his voice tinged with a quiet warning.

Hyunjin leans in a little, his eyes flicking back and forth between me and Han, a smirk tugging at his lips. "I didn’t know you were so... chatty these days."

Han’s cheeks flush slightly, and I catch the briefest moment where he looks like he’s about to say something, but he just gives a short, almost dismissive laugh instead. He turns to me, trying to play it cool again. "Don’t mind him, he likes to tease."

But Hyunjin’s eyes never leave Han, and he raises an eyebrow, his tone light but with an edge. "Oh, we can tell."

Felix seems to catch on to the vibe pretty quickly and shoots a look at Hyunjin, trying to diffuse the moment with a casual comment. "It’s been a while since we’ve all hung out, right?"

Hyunjin shrugs, his gaze still lingering on Han for just a moment longer before he finally turns to me with a bright, friendly grin. "Sorry if we’re making things awkward. We’ve just been waiting for Han to make a move for, like, forever."

My heart skips, but I force a smile, pretending I didn’t catch the hint. I look at Han, who looks a little uncomfortable, shifting his weight from foot to foot. "A move?" I ask, genuinely confused.

Felix jumps in quickly, laughing a little too loudly. "He means just, you know… being less of a weirdo around people."

Han shoots him a glare, and I can see his usual easygoing confidence slipping just slightly. "I don’t know what they’re talking about," he mutters, clearly embarrassed.

But it doesn’t seem like Hyunjin is done just yet. He leans in a bit, looking at Han with a playful, knowing grin. "Sure, sure. But don’t worry, I’m sure it’s only a matter of time before you show us how you really feel."

I’m still not entirely sure what they mean, but it’s enough to make my heart race again, a mix of confusion and something I can’t quite place bubbling up inside me.

I glance between them, trying to piece together what they’re saying. Felix and Hyunjin are clearly enjoying themselves, but Han seems... almost caught off guard by their teasing. It’s subtle, but there’s something in the way he won’t meet my eyes, something that makes my stomach twist.

"What’s that supposed to mean?" I find myself asking before I can stop it, my voice barely above a whisper.

Hyunjin grins, shooting me a playful wink, his tone light but knowing. "Oh, don’t worry about it," he says, before nudging Felix. "You’ll figure it out soon enough."

I blink, still unsure, but I feel my cheeks start to burn again. My eyes flicker to Han, who's now standing just a little too close for comfort. He’s still quiet, but I can feel the weight of his presence beside me, almost like he’s waiting for me to say something.

My heart is pounding, and I try to brush off the tension, but it’s getting harder to ignore.

As if sensing my confusion, Han finally speaks, his voice softer than usual. "It’s not like that." He glances at me, his gaze lingering just long enough for me to catch the subtle vulnerability in his eyes before he looks away.

The moment feels heavy, and I’m not sure if it’s my racing heartbeat or the silence between us that makes it so hard to breathe. I feel like I should say something, but I’m not sure what to make of any of this yet.

Felix and Hyunjin continue their walk ahead, but I’m left standing there, caught between confusion and something else—something that feels a lot like... curiosity.

I glance at Han again, but this time, he doesn’t look back. Instead, he gives a small, almost imperceptible sigh, like he’s resigned to something. "You should get going," he says, his voice almost gentle.

I hesitate for a moment, unsure of what to say. "Yeah… I should." But even as I turn to walk away, I feel his presence linger behind me, and I know that whatever this is between us... it’s not over yet.

[v3nomly]

𝐑𝐨𝐬𝐞-𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐝 | 𝗝𝗝𝗞 𝗠𝘂𝗹𝘁𝗶

• characters — S.Gojo ; R. Sukuna ; T. Fushiguro | GN Reader

• synopsis — Love is the greatest curse of all. All-encompassing and blinding, but when the rose-colored glasses slip, what do you see.

• tags & warnings — toxic aspects of relationships - mentions of intimacy, but no in-depth descriptions - reader blissfully ignoring the negative aspects of the men - controlling behavior - stonewalling - inklings of verbal abuse.

• a/n — I'm back and with my return, I bring JJK headcanons! My requests are open if anyone wants to throw suggestions my way.

Satoru Gojo is a spontaneous lover. One who would shower you with gifts and secretly planned trips. Covering your relationship in a hue of sappy adoration and gentle touches. Spontaneity wasn’t just in his actions, but also in his affections, the blooming warmth of tender care shifts suddenly to frigid frost and a cavern of distance.

The world rests heavily on his shoulders. While the burden of the past threatens to drag him to a place he’s unsure if he can return from. Should-haves circulate his mind until no other thoughts can manifest, obsessions on past failures and his own hidden faults. 

Even when your limbs tangled, skin covered in a sheen of sweat and bodies spent, you could see his mind was elsewhere. Thoughts lingering on something just out of reach. On the worst of days, he’d cast you aside, unwilling to even share space, as if your presence only further strained his fragile mental state. 

His tear-rimmed eyes begin to sting once again when he hears your broken sobs through the wall. Satoru hesitates, heart, lurching to break the barrier dividing you both physically and mentally, but he can’t.  

Spontaneous as ever the next day Satoru is back to his happy cheerful self. A smile graces his lips and his body displays and forces aloofness to his previous state.  

Ryomen Sukuna couldn’t deny that you were special to him. It was obvious in the way he treated you, gentle and soft, as if you were a delicate flower in bloom. Still, Sukuna was a prideful man and one who even on the best of days remained cruel and unyielding.  

When his pride was wounded it didn’t matter who crossed his path, all would be victims of his unfounded rage. The words he spits are vicious and venomous, poisoning you from the inside out. Sukuna could see it in your eyes, the hurt that began to fester, hidden beneath the glossy sheen of tears, but so apparent. 

He was rotting you, destroying you, slowly but surely, decaying your pedals, and wilting the beauty that shone so vibrantly from your being. The sight causes him to pause, the words dying on his tongue. 

Apologies were never something he gave, at least not blatantly, and now would be no different. His fist would clench and he’d watched you flinch, his anger now directed at himself instead of you. He could never hurt you, at least not with anything more than his words. His stupid cruel words and like the innocent flower you were, you’d forgive him.  

Toji Fushiguro is a passionate man. He feels no shame in his devotion to his partners, happily placing them on a pristine pedestal for all to see. Infatuation that borders on obsession, morphs and twists into an ugly creature when unchecked. Toji wouldn’t consider himself a jealous man, he understood his place in the world and made peace with it. That was until you slipped your way into his life. Permeating his mind, body, and soul, until he couldn’t distinguish where you ended and he began. You were his everything, so why do you need anyone else?

Reassurance was something he never had growing up, and thus the concept remains foreign in adulthood. Even when you try to whisper declarations of love during your most intimate acts he can’t help but think you’re lying. How could someone as perfect as you, look at him and see anything of worth?

It’s small things at first, him going through your phone while you shower; Making note of numbers and names he doesn’t recognize, blocking the ones that seem a little too eager for your attention. It’s not like you’d miss them. You don’t need them after all, you have him. 

As his doubt festers, he slips up more, outwardly showing his distrust, and constant questions of who you are going out with and why. Draining you until you finally relent, giving up going out to spare yourself from the inevitable argument that is to come.  

Only when the dust settles and he can see the results of his actions unscathed by the blinding jealousy, does his stomach drop. No matter how much you tell him it’s fine, he knows you are lying, really truly lying, unlike all the times before, and while he promises to do better, you both know that is a lie all of his own. 

© 2025 v3nomly do not plagiarize, translate, or repost my writing to any other site.

[yumeaoka-chan]

Maybe It's Canon...

My hand slipped...? Blame @the-kr8tor @hyperfix-wip and @pleaktale for not stopping me😭🤚 Also credit to Bleaky for the ask sent to Katy. Lovely banners made by @cafekitsune ❤️

Pairing: Ekko x Reader x Hobie Brown/ Prowler! Ekko x Reader x Spider-Punk! Hobie Brown

Word Count: 1.9k

Tags: Angst, hurt/ no comfort (straight up bad times, man), fighting(im still bad at writing fight scenes), blood, no physical description of reader, can be read as any gender really, TW death, cursing

Summary: In every universe, you fall for them. Sometimes, it doesn't end well.

Blood rushes in his ears as he holds you close, senses buzzing and sensitive hearing picking up the way your heart thrashes like a battering ram inside your chest. Frigid air whips your face, tears from the sharp gusts of wind slipping from your eyes as you gasp, trembling like a leaf from being up so high.

“‘S alright, love,” Hobie breathes out, pulling you away from the ledge of the sky-scraping tower, arms firmly wrapped around you and thumbs rubbing circles against you. “‘M gonna get you down from ‘ere. Promise.” His bones still feel like it's rattling from Electro’s shocks, fingers twitchy and body aching and ribs creaking. But he had to get you to safety first. After everything you've done to ensure his win against the electric powered villain, he had to make sure you were safe. With a jerky nod, you blink away the stinging tears, face as cold as ice due to the blistering London winds.

Just as he goes to launch a web at an opposite building, his senses suddenly go haywire. Only giving him enough time to snap his head in the direction of danger before a sharp pain blooms across his ribs, breath leaving him in a whoosh as he's slammed onto the ground away from you. Your frightened cry rings in his ears as he pushes back at the force that had rushed him, rolling himself into a crouch as he whipped his head up to glare at the newcomer. A frustrated snarl forming on his lips beneath his mask, Hobie narrows his eyes at the flash of purple and green.

“Ain't the time, Prowler”, he snaps, eyes darting over to your shaking form, seeing as you latch yourself to the glass skylight windows of the tower. Your chest heaves as you try to regulate your breathing, watching with trepidation and worry as the Prowler stands up. Claws of his mechanical gauntlets gleaming under the light of the full moon, glowing white eyes of his purple mask sharp and narrowed. He points a clawed finger at the web head, voice deep and masking any resemblance of something human.

“You had time to fuck up my plans. I can spare a few minutes to kick your ass, insect.” Hobie scoffs, eyes focused on the way the thief circles around him like he's prey. He might as well be, what with his mind solely focused on protecting you, getting you out of this mess as quick as possible.

“Arachnid, P. ‘Sides, it ain't my fault you can't plan your heists at a better time.”

“Always a joke with you… Too bad I ain't laughing”, Prowler spits out lowly, the hairs on the back of your neck rising as you watch him shift into a defensive stance. Eyes drifting over to Hobie, you shake your head, hoping and praying that he understands that you don't want him to fight. Not this time. Your silent pleas are met with a firm shake of his head, Hobie throwing his battered guitar to the side and crouching lower, dashing any hope you have about no violence. It's silent then, nothing but the harsh winds whistling in your ears. The two men watch each other closely, muscles coiling beneath the skin as they ready themselves to spring into action. Everything that happens is a blur then.

Quick on his feet, Prowler dashes towards Hobie, swinging his fist at him once he nears the web head. The punk easily dodges the blow from his left, backing away from a hit from the right. A hand comes up to block the knee to his stomach before he drops down, sweeping a leg out to trip the thief. Falling down from the sudden sweep, the clawed man is quick to use the momentum from the fall, spinning his body on the ground and delivering a harsh kick to the masked hero's face. Hobie groans as the Prowler flips, standing up and rushing him once more. He delivers an onslaught of punches and kicks to the web head who weaves away from every blow before lifting his leg up high and bringing it straight down towards the punk's head in a mean axe kick. Hobie manages to sidestep away from it at the last second, moving forward and bringing up a hand to catch the thief's leg. Lifting up a fist to hit Prowler in the chest and right before he can kick his leg from underneath him, the masked thief suddenly grabs him by the shoulders. Clamoring onto him and wrapping his thighs around his head, they both tumble to the ground.

You watch as they exchange blow after harsh blow, watch as they somehow stumble closer towards your little safe haven called the skylight. Heart feeling heavy with slight dread as you see Hobie get punched so hard that you can hear the stuttered gasp of pain leaving his lips. Prowler yells angrily as he swipes his claws down over the webslinger's chest, bits of red spandex clinging to the sharp metal. Hobie hisses as pain blossoms, body still heavy from the previous fight and strength wanning. A mechanical fist collides into his nose and if his brain wasn't rattling inside of his head right now, he would have sworn he heard a distinct crack. A cry of terror sounds in his ear as his back collides with something cold, something breaking beneath the combined weight of him and the man leering above him. Another blow rains down on his nose, which he for sure knew was broken by now. Then another, making his head snap to the side, blood welling up behind his now swollen eye.

“That's all you had in you, Spider-Man”, Prowler hisses before delivering yet another blow to the downed man's face, name leaving his lips like a curse. “What happened to being the best, huh? This'll teach you to stay outta my way…!”

Hobie's head is swimming as punch after punch lands on his face, eyes rolling behind his mask as he tries to get up. He has to get up. It doesn't matter if his ribs were for sure fractured by Electro earlier, it doesn't matter if he could barely seem to move a finger. All that mattered was keeping you safe, living to make it back home and spending time with you and Ekko. The two people he loved more than anything. He could hear you, hear as you cried out for Prowler to stop, begged for any semblance of mercy for his sake. It broke his heart, hearing the fear for his life that he's unfortunately instilled in you. And, suddenly, the raining of blows cease, Hobie cracking open heavy eyes to blearily peer up at the man causing him harm. The Prowler's fist is raised up high, shaking with restraint as his head is turned towards you. You, whose standing up on shaky legs on the skylight, tears streaming down your face as you sniffle.

“W-What… What did you just call me…?” The thief let's out breathlessly, whatever you said having caused him to tremble as he speaks his words. Wiping at the tears you take a shaky step forward and Hobie lets out a jumbled slew of words, protesting your advancement towards danger.

“Please stop, Ekko… That's Hobie…” You choke out and it makes the pain he feels almost instantly go away. Because what in the world did you mean, calling the thief Ekko? Ekko…? There was just no way that could be true. Glowing white eyes now boring down at the injured man beneath him, Prowler lifts a trembling clawed hand up towards the hem of the webslinger’s mask, and Hobie can't even find it in him to stop him as it's pulled up and off of his head.

“N-No”, Prowler chokes before ripping his own mask off of his face. Hobie's met with familiar hazel brown eyes boring into his own and his breath leaves him. Twisted white locs falling over his face as he gently cradles the punk's face within his mechanical claws, Ekko has tears shining in his heartbroken gaze. And then, before he could utter a word, before he could try to figure out how exactly you figured out his identity, the glass beneath you three cracks. Everything seems to happen in slow motion then.

A gasp leaves your lips as you fall through the shattering remains of the skylight, air whipping past you as you tumble down the tower. Hobie and Ekko fall straight down, bodies bumping and landing on hard metal beams. Eyes darting around, looking for you, widening once they see you falling. In the last moments of your life, you gaze at the two men you hold dear, reaching for you, yelling out your name in horror. Tears slip from your eyes as you smile at them, your deadly descent never slowing. They're diving to you, fingers so far from brushing against your own. As a last resort, Hobie shoots out a web, hoping, praying to anything out there that it reaches you in time. It looks like a tiny hand, you think to yourself as you gaze at them lovingly. It latches just as you reach the hard floor of the tower and Hobie's heart thuds so loud within his ears that he can barely hear anything else.

He got you. He made it in time. You'd be okay. That's what he tells himself repeatedly as he and Ekko finally reach the bottom, his hands yanking away the web and holding you close. Hand cradling the back of your head, his mind doesn't register the slick warmth that seeps from it, smile on his pierced lips as he awaits for you to open your eyes.

“Love…”, he mumbles, russet brown eyes roaming over the serene look on your features. “Lovie…? Open your eyes for me, yeah? Can you do that, sweetheart…?” His sensitive ears can't seem to pick up your pulse, which he finds odd. Strange. You were okay. You were safe now.

“C'mon, darlin’. Jus’ open your eyes f'me and we can go home. Promise…” Hobie doesn't dare to look behind him, tunes out the sound of Ekko falling to his knees. When he sees that your expression never changes, that your face granted with serenity never wanes, he starts to trail his fingers down to your chest. Trembling as he searches for where your heart is beating. Because, of course, it was beating. Of course it was…

Oh…

Oh…

“No, no no… You can't do this to me”, Hobie whispers harshly, vision blurring and swimming as he lets out a choked sob, nose scrunching and face crumbling. Despair threatens to claw out his broken heart as he fervently shakes his head, fingers cradling your face. “C’mon, lovie, please. Please.”

The man behind him is sobbing loudly now, the sound rattling in his brain as Hobie holds you close against his chest, gripping your lifeless body like a lifeline. He couldn't breathe, breath coming out in heaving gasps as the tears streaked down his face, dripping onto your rapidly cooling skin.

“Don't fuckin’ leave me…” His sobs rattle in his chest as reality finally sets in. You're gone. He didn't make it in time. Placing a gentle kiss on your forehead, he lays your body down on the ground and stands. Legs wobbling, he falls onto his knees a moment after, chest aching and grief all consuming. Ekko takes his place, holding onto you and whispering apologies against your hairline. And as Hobie watches him, he no longer sees the man he loved and respected. No longer sees the man he cherished just as much as he cherished you. No longer does he see the man he wanted to spend an eternity with alongside you. No. All Hobie can see now is red.

[phantomdreamgirl]

Every time He smiles, My Heart Breaks

(18+)

Familyvideo!steve harrington x reader

After Steve broke your heart back in high school, you spent the next few years avoiding him until you found yourself leaning against the video store counter, falling for his charms all over again.

Standing in line at Family Video, you clutch the two VHS tapes you're holding to your chest. You shift your weight from one foot to the other, as you eye how many people are ahead of you. You knew coming in on a Saturday night was a bad idea, but you were in need of one of your comfort movies and would risk waiting in an obscenely long line to get it.

You sigh before you see an overwhelmed Robin yell for Steve to come to the counter.

Shit.

You weren't expecting to see him tonight or ever, as every time you'd been there in the past, you had just missed him. A cold sweat forms on your brow as you reluctantly take a step forward. A simple trip to the video store was quickly turning into your worst nightmare, as you inch closer and closer to the guy responsible for the worst heartbreak of your life.

You try to stay to the right, where the line branches off, in hopes of ending up with Robin instead. Your hopes are soon crushed however, as the person in front of you chooses her to rant at over their late fees.

"I can help whoever's next," you then hear a familiar voice say.

You look over at him and he flashes a faint smile, as recognition registers on his face. You smile politely in return as you approach the counter. You set the tapes down in front of you, now aware of how clammy your hands are.

"Hey," he greets as he assesses the tapes. "How have you been?"

"Good, just busy. What about you?" You ask, as your eyes meet his.

You forgot just how mesmerizing they were. So many memories suddenly flood your mind as you force yourself to keep a neutral expression.

"Same, actually, as you can see it can get pretty crazy in here some nights," he replies, scanning one of the tapes. "Oh, Flashdance, nice. I remember how much you liked this one."

"You should, that was one of our best dates," you say with a laugh.

"Yeah," he smiles. "It was. Then you played the soundtrack in your car nonstop afterwards."

"I still do sometimes," you reveal.

Steve averts his eyes from yours before asking you for the store rewards card. You hand it to him and he holds it for a second before handing it back to you.

"You know what? These are on the house," he says, handing the tapes back to you.

"What? I don't-" you begin to protest when he's leaning over the counter, closer to you.

You then instinctively lean against the counter, towards him. He's so close you can smell traces of the minty gum he was chewing earlier.

"Would you mind waiting until after I get this line down? I wanna talk to you about something," he whispers, causing your body to tense up.

"Yeah, sure," you quickly reply, earning another smile from him.

You step to the side of the counter, again clutching the tapes to your chest as you wait. Your mind's racing with a million possibilities for what he would want to talk to you about. Maybe he's finally going to apologize for how he treated you back in high school. Would he even care about that now? Should you still care about it as much as you do? Why do you still let him get to you? The questions are endless until you hear Steve softly saying your name.

He steps out from behind the counter and stands next to you.

"Can I walk you out to your car?" He asks, pointing to the parking lot. "It's too crowded in here."

You nod, and he gestures for you to walk in front of him. He hurries ahead of you to get the door, holding it open so the two of you can exit into the chilly, February evening.

He follows you to your car and waits as you toss the tapes into the passenger seat.

"So, what do you want to talk to me about?" You ask, after turning to face him.

"I, um, have been thinking about you a lot lately," he begins, slightly nervous, "and I know that probably sounds really weird since we haven't talked in years, and I know that's my fault, but I... I just want to apologize for how shitty I was to you when we broke up-"

"You mean when you left me for Nancy?" You interrupt, folding your arms across your chest.

"Yeah, I was a total jerk about it, and I'm sorry," he replies, with a pout. "You deserved a better guy than me anyway."

Your expression softens as you notice the sadness in his eyes.

"I wouldn't go that far," you console. "You were a good boyfriend, we were happy."

"Its hard for me to remember sometimes," he admits, kicking some of the loose gravel beneath his feet. "Sometimes all I can remember is how I hurt you."

"That's all I can remember sometimes, too," you confess, meeting his sad gaze.

"I'm just so sorry for all of it and I want to make it up to you," he continues, hopeful. "Valentines day is coming up and I was wondering, if you'd want to go to dinner with me? If you don't already have plans..."

"I-" you start to reply, as his proposition has seemingly rendered you speechless.

"I'll totally understand if you don't want to, since you probably still hate me," he adds, now just rambling. "I'd still hate me too."

You then reach out and lightly grip the sleeve of his sweatshirt. "I don't hate you, Steve," you assure.

His face instantly lights up with a smile that still gives you butterflies.

"You don't?"

You shake your head. "I could never hate you."

"Would you be willing to go out with me, then?" He asks again, noticing how you're still holding onto him.

"I would," you quietly answer, as you feel him wrapping his arms around you.

"Yeah?" He questions, still with a smile.

You nod.

He pulls you into him, against his warm, broad chest and whatever thoughts of protest leave your mind.

"I won't mess this up again," he breathes, gazing into your eyes.

Your hand moves from his sleeve to his green vest as he leans in close. You grip it so tightly, turning your knuckles white. His nose brushes yours before he presses the softest kiss to your lips.

You should be embarrassed by how easily you melt into his arms, but in the moment, you can't bring yourself to care. His lips feel so right, everything about him feels right. It's a feeling you've never felt with anyone else and its all encompassing.

The intensity of his kiss grows as he pins you against the side of your car. He presses more of his body against you, as it seems he's just as caught up in how good it feels to have you back in his arms.

"I've missed you," he murmurs, into a kiss.

Before you can respond, you hear Robin calling out for him.

"Steve! Stop making out with the customers and get your ass back in here!"

"Just give me a sec, Rob," he replies, looking over at her. "This is kinda important."

She rolls her eyes before noticing you're who he's with. "Oh... just make it quick."

You each exchange awkward smiles before she disappears inside the store.

"Sorry about that," Steve apologizes, bringing his hand up to cup your cheek.

"Its okay," you assure, sweetly. "I should go, anyway. Wouldn't want you to get in trouble with the big boss."

He playfully scoffs. "Don't worry about that. Keith needs me and he knows it."

He leans in again, and asks with his thumb caressing your cheek, "Can I call you later?"

"Yeah, I just need to give you my new number," you reply, while digging into your purse for a pen. You pull one out, excitedly, but then realize you don't have anything to write on. An idea flickers across your face as you tell him to hold out his hand.

He does so, with a smile, before you write your number on his palm.

You then smile up at him and see a familiar glint in his eyes. You remember how he used to look at you like that all time and it always made you dizzy with love.

"You're adorable," he breathes, pulling you back to him for another kiss.

You whine his name against his lips, gently pushing him away, knowing that if you didn't stop him, you'd never leave.

"Alright," he huffs, pulling away. "I'll talk to you later, okay?"

"Okay," you smile, as he takes a few steps back allowing you to get into your car.

He watches you leave, standing in place until your car disappears into the distance.

You have a dumb smile plastered on your lips the whole way back to your house. Only in your dreams could you have imagined such an interaction with him. You only wish he would've come to this realization sooner, but you're grateful nonetheless.

He makes good on his promise to call you that night, as the phone rings around ten.

"I didn't wake you up or anything, did I?" He asks, sweetly.

"No, I'm still up," you reply, smiling into the phone.

"Okay, good."

You both then talk for the next hour and a half, until you're both almost dozing off.

"I'm really glad you came in today," he quietly admits.

"I am, too," you say, holding the phone close.

"I've been wanting to say all that to you for so long, it was eating me up inside," he continues. "I miss what we had and I'm sorry for ruining it."

Your heart melts at his admission.

"It means a lot to hear you say that, but you don't have to keep apologizing," you say with a laugh.

"I know, but I still feel so guilty, like, you really loved me and I threw it away for someone who never could," he counters.

"Yeah," you sigh, "but you're making up for it now."

"I didn't expect you to be this forgiving," he admits, also with a laugh.

"Neither did I, but I guess that's part of growing up."

"I guess so," he agrees, with a relieved smile.

You lay on your side, switching the phone to your other ear, imagining his pretty face across from yours.

"I really wanna kiss you right now," he breathes, his voice soft and sleepy.

You smile, burying your face in your pillow. You're about to reply when you hear light snoring and quickly realize he's fallen asleep. After quietly giggling, you listen to him breathe, closing your eyes and pretending he's laying next to you. You almost doze off yourself until the phone slips out of your hand.

"Goodnight Steve," you whisper before turning over to hang up the phone.

Steve calls you every night leading up to your date. It amazes you with how easy it is for him to become a part of your life again.

The night before, he's still vague on the details about your date, saying that it's a surprise. He does tell you to wear something nice, so that probably means that you're going somewhere fancy. You already have the perfect outfit in mind, as you've been saving it for a special occasion.

The following evening, you're getting dressed in your room. Sitting on the edge of your bed, you gently pull black tights up and over your legs, covering the black lace underneath. You then shimmy your way into your black, velvet long-sleeve dress. Walking over to the mirror, you adjust it and make sure it fits just right. You smile at the little red hearts embroidered on it, thinking how this was the perfect dress for Valentines Day.

Turning away from your reflection, you slip into matching black heels before putting on your favorite pair of earrings. You then look over your appearance one last time before you hear the doorbell ring. Long dormant butterflies flutter back to life as you hurry to put on your burgundy coat and sling your purse over your shoulder.

Upon opening the door, you're met with a ridiculously handsome Steve, seemingly also dressed in all black, under his charcoal colored coat. You can't help but gasp at the sight of him.

"Hey," he greets, with a smile, reaching for you.

"Hi," you reply, as he wraps his arms around your waist.

He pulls you to him, pressing his lips to your cheek, as to not ruin your lipstick. Your eyes close as you inhale his cologne. It's different from what he used to wear, but you think it suits him even more.

"You look gorgeous, as always," he breathes, with his lips still at your cheek.

"Thanks," you dreamily reply, "so do you."

"Thanks," he echoes, nuzzling his nose against yours.

You're already consumed by the warmth that radiates from him, that you momentarily forget about the chilly night air around you. You weren't aware how much you missed it until then.

"Ready to go?" He softly asks, between planting little kisses across your cheek.

You nod, dreamily smiling up at him when he pulls away.

He then escorts you to his car, opening the door for you and making sure your coat didn't get caught in it once you get inside.

After he gets in and begins driving out of town, you playfully question where he's taking you. "So, can I at least have a hint about where we're going or...?"

He softly laughs before answering, "I've kept up the suspense long enough. There's a new Italian place that just opened up in the next town over, so I thought we'd go there. Believe it or not, my parents actually raved about it, and they don't like anything, so I'm guessing it must be pretty good."

"Oh," you smile, relieved. "That sounds great then."

"I told you I wanna make up for everything, so I wanted to take you somewhere nice," he adds, glancing over at you and gently taking your hand.

You smile in return as he squeezes, affectionately.

After he parks in the overflowing parking lot, you start to open your door when he stops you. He quickly hops out and hurries over to the passenger side of the car.

"Allow me," he says, helping you out of the car.

"Such the gentleman tonight," you tease, as he wraps his arm around you.

"Um, excuse me, I'm always a gentleman," he reminds, with faux annoyance.

"I know," you agree, leaning into him.

Once inside, you both quickly see how crowded it is, with angry wives and girlfriends, furious that there's no tables available without a reservation. You nervously look to Steve who assures you that he has it covered. He strolls up to the host stand and tells the frazzled hostess that he has a reservation for two under Harrington. She checks the leather bound notebook in front of her and smiles when she finds his name. After grabbing two menus, she looks up at him and says to follow her.

You could feel the hateful looks as you and Steve walk into the dining room. The hostess seats you at a secluded booth, complete with candle lit ambience.

"I must say I'm pretty impressed so far," you admit, while taking off your coat.

"That was the goal," he smirks, while also shedding his.

When he glances up at you again, he's taken aback by how you look in the soft light.

"God, you're beautiful," he quietly laments, reaching across the table to hold your hand.

Both his words and his constant need to touch you has you blushing. He wasn't like this when you were together before and it's a welcome change. He really has grown up a lot in these last few years, you think, as he gazes at you so adoringly.

"You say that like you're just now realizing it," you smile.

"In a way, I am," he replies, seemingly lovesick. "I was such an idiot before, letting you go... I'm not gonna make that mistake again."

He's looking at you with an intensity that makes your heart race. You know he means every word.

While you ate, Steve couldn't keep from staring at you. His honeyed gaze was soft at first but soon darkened as his thoughts drifted to your perfect lips. He longed to see them parted and slick from his kisses before you breathed his name in the delicate way that he loved. He discreetly reaches under the table to adjust himself, willing himself to make it through the first half of your date.

His staring doesn't go unnoticed, as it makes you feel so desirable. You haven't felt like this in years, and it has you clenching the napkin in your lap. You can see the deliciously filthy thoughts hidden behind his eyes, and you're fighting the urge to drag him out to his car and fuck him in the backseat.

You both struggle to maintain your innocent facades for the remainder of your meal. After paying the check, Steve escorts you out of the restaurant with his arm wrapped tightly around your waist. He has you pulled so close that your hips brush his as you walk.

When he has you alone in the parking lot, he presses your back to his passenger side door. A surprised gasp slips from your lips before his body engulfs yours. He kisses you so deeply it literally knocks the breath out of you. In a daze, you wrap your arms around him, with your hands curling under his coat's collar, at the back of his neck. You're almost afraid to touch his skin, fearing it'll be as searing as his kiss.

"I want you so fucking bad," he finally pants, allowing you to breathe.

"I want you, too," you reply, still gasping for air.

"Wanna go back to my place?" He asks, slipping his hands under your coat.

He squeezes your hips, making you whimper up at him.

You nod, and he kisses you again.

During the ride back to Hawkins, you reach into your purse and into your makeup case. Once you have your tube of lipstick in hand, you flip the sun visor in front of you down and open the lighted mirror on the back. Steve curiously watches as you reapply the sultry shade of crimson you wore earlier that night. He's not entirely sure why, but he feels his pants tightening at the sight of your painted lips.

After parking in his parent's driveway, he reaches for you, wanting to pull you in for another desperate kiss. You put your manicured finger to his lips, stopping him.

"Wait until we get inside, handsome," you smile as he looks at you with pleading eyes.

He nods, before pressing a kiss to your fingertip.

He then can't get out of the car fast enough, still going around to the side to open your door for you.

Once the front door is unlocked, you pull him inside, towards the living room. You're both surprised and glad that the house's layout has remained virtually unchanged since you were last there. You lead him to the couch and gently push him down, onto it. He gazes up at you, completely enamored as you straddle him.

You teasingly grind against him while his hands settle on your hips. Your hands move from his shoulders to his hair as you lean in close. His eyes close as he anticipates your kiss only to be surprised when your attention drifts lower, to his neck.

You nuzzle your nose against his skin, allowing his cologne to intoxicate you again.

"I've really missed you," you breathe before pressing a kiss to his freckled skin.

"I've missed you, too," he replies, breathless, "so fuckin' much."

"I don't ever want us to be apart again," you continue, between more crimson kisses.

"We won't be, I won't let it happen," he assures, as he shifts underneath you.

You smile against his skin before kissing your way to his collarbone.

"You promise?" You ask, peering up at him with doe eyes while you unbutton his shirt.

He swallows clumsily as he nods. "Yeah, I promise, honey."

After his shirt is unbuttoned halfway, you glide your nails through his newly exposed chest hair. The prettiest sounds fall from his lips and you can feel how he's throbbing underneath you, growing more desperate by the minute. You lean into him again, this time nuzzling your face to his chest. You flick your tongue over his nipple making him shiver above you.

"Christ, honey, I'm not gonna last much longer if you keep teasing me like this," he warns, raggedly.

You look up at him again, proud to have scored a rare victory over Steve Harrington.

"Am I too much of a tease for you?" You ask, after raising your head to fully meet his gaze.

"You already know the answer to that," he breathes before pulling you into a passionate kiss.

You move your hips again, subtly grinding against his strained bulge. His move instinctively with yours, still so desperate.

"Wait," he pants, after breaking the kiss. "Before we go any further, we need to go upstairs. I wanna do this right."

You look at his disheveled hair and lipstick stained lips and smile.

You reply with a soft kiss before he guides you to the stairs.

You instantly feel like a teenager again, following him to his room for the first time. That room holds so many memories that it feels surreal being back there.

Steve saunters to the bed, with his hand still entwined with yours. He stops in front of it and begins undressing. Your eyes travel his body, noting how he's definitely improved with age. When he's only left in his tight, black underwear, he sits on the edge of the bed and looks up at you.

The hungry look in his eyes is your silent cue to also undress. You slip your arms out of the sleeves of your dress and shimmy out of it. You try to take off your tights as seductively as you can, as the heat from his gaze is overwhelming.

You toss them to the floor, leaving you in your lacy, black lingerie. You then take a few steps closer to him, standing between his spread legs. His hands are immediately on you, roaming your body like it's already his.

"So fuckin' gorgeous," he laments, in awe of the sight before him.

"You're not so bad yourself," you reply, combing your fingers through his hair.

He smiles before leaning up to kiss you. Before you know it, he has you on your back, trailing kisses across your chest. You whine his name, fingers curling into his hair when you feel him leaving hickies on your sensitive skin.

"Every inch of you is fucking perfect," he pants, as he kisses down your stomach. "I want you to always remember that, okay?"

He glances up at you, his eyes consumed with desire. You nod, breathless and dazed. He returns his focus to your hips, nibbling on them before kissing lower, to the waist of your panties. He teases you by kissing around the soft skin of your thighs, before pressing his lips to the black lace. He presses his tongue against the soaked fabric, tasting your arousal. He moans into you before pressing more kisses to your clothed core.

His large hands grip your hips, holding you in place as you writhe against the bed. You whine and cry his name, begging for more. He soon releases his grip long enough to rip your panties down your legs and throw them to the side.

His mouth is on you again, greedily licking and kissing the most delicate part of you. Your fingers claw at his scalp, pulling at his hair when he fucks you with his tongue. His nails are digging into your skin as he moans into you. He's so painfully hard now that he's grinding himself against the bed.

You whine his name again, your body trembling around him. Moans and cries of his name echo off his bedroom walls as he brings you closer to release. He's relentless in how he's devouring you, vowing not to stop until you make a mess on his face.

He gets his wish when your thighs clamp around his head and your voice is practically horse from screaming his name. He keeps lapping at you, moaning loudly as well, though it's muffled. He finally looks up at you, pretty face grinning and glistening. He rests his cheek against your thigh, while you catch your breath.

"You're even sweeter than I remembered," he smiles, making you cover your face with your hands.

He then crawls up your body, hovering his face over yours. You reach for him, eagerly pulling him into a kiss. He presses his body to yours and you feel an unfamiliar dampness on your lower half.

"Did you...?" You ask, pulling away slightly.

"I think so, yeah," he cringes.

"That's so hot," you breathe, before kissing him again.

He whimpers into it, his sweaty body melting into yours.

"You should take them off anyway," you say, running your finger along the waistband of his underwear.

He immediately rolls onto his back and pulls his sticky underwear down his legs. He throws them to the floor then lays next to you. His eyes stay fixed on you as you sit up just enough to unclasp your bra. Once it slips off onto the floor, he's on top of you.

"So fucking pretty," he breathes, with his lips brushing yours. "Still want me, honey?"

"I want you," you whine. "I need you Steve, please..."

He rewards you with a kiss as he reaches between you and strokes himself.

"Say it again," he breathily commands, against your lips.

"I need you, Steve," you repeat, with your hands cradling his face.

"I'm yours, honey," he pants, as he eases himself inside you. "I always will be."

You gasp, your hands dropping to his shoulders as he slowly pushes in.

"Steve, I-" you say, your nails digging into his skin.

"I know, but you can take it," he assures. "I know you can, honey."

He kisses you again, distracting you from the stretch of him now deep inside you.

"See? Like I said, so goddamn perfect," he praises, between kisses.

You struggle to kiss him back, as you're already overwhelmed with pleasure.

His thrusts start out slow, letting you acclimate to him. Memories of all the times you were together like this in this room, in this bed, flood your mind. It's almost too much as tears well in your eyes.

"Hey, what's going on in that gorgeous head of yours?" He softly asks, stilling his hips.

A light shade of pink covers your already flushed cheeks as you gaze up at him wistfully.

"This just feels so familiar, you know?" You explain, slightly embarrassed. "Like, remembering everything that happened here is just hitting me and it's a lot."

"I know what you mean," he admits, surprising you. "Being here can be too much for me sometimes, too."

He leans in and just nuzzles his nose against yours.

"I just really loved you and you broke my heart, and I almost never recovered," you reveal.

"'Loved?' So you don't feel that way anymore?" He questions, his lip starting to quiver.

"I still do," you answer, tearfully. "I love you, Steve."

He blinks away his own tears and sighs your name. "I love you, too, so goddamn much it hurts."

He presses his lips to yours excitedly. He breathes how much he loves you with every kiss as his hips start to move again. Once he sets a good rhythm, he buries his face in your neck, flicking his tongue over your skin before leaving little reminders of his affection.

You whimper his name, as you tighten your legs around his waist. He raises his head to kiss you again while his hips roughly meet yours. You know neither one of you is going to last much longer, as you're crying his name again and he's moaning more words of praise.

"Fuck, honey, I love you...I fucking love you so much..." he pants, before collapsing on top of you.

"I love you, too," you reply, combing your fingers through the ends of his hair.

He moves to lay next to you and quickly pulls you to him. You feel the scratch of his chest hair against your cheek when you rest your head against him.

After you each just lie there, listening to the other breathe, he finally says, "This is how it always should've been. It was always meant to be you."

You raise your head and look into his soft, hazel eyes.

"I'm sorry it took me so long to realize it," he continues as you smile.

"It doesn't matter now. All that matters is that we found our way back to each other,"you reply, reaching to cup his cheek.

"Will you spend the night with me?" He then asks, bringing his hand up and placing it over yours.

You nod, moving closer to his face. "Tonight and every night."

He smiles before pulling you into a sweet kiss.

What started out as your worst nightmare turned into a dream come true, as you were reunited with the love of your life. And it was all because of a simple trip to the video store.

❤️🩷❤️🩷❤️🩷❤️🩷❤️🩷❤️🩷❤️🩷❤️

🏷: @donaweasley @allergictosoup @daisy-is-a-writer @saddiesthings @yourfavoritewitchbitch @the-fairy-anon @kassy-djomunson @elsas-wife

[jsmelodies]

The Next Chapter

Ending @sjmromanceweek with some pure fluff :) This is my interpretation of what comes next. I think Nesta deserves to watch Cassian chop logs in half with his axe (That’s it. That’s the plot.)

Summary: Cassian builds Nesta a house.

Read here on ao3

---

Nesta should have figured that their mating ceremony was going to end with Cassian acting like a half-feral beast. She couldn’t blame him entirely, though, when it was her smile that triggered it, causing his wings to spread wide behind him before snatching her off.

He’d offered a simple ‘sorry’ when his mind cleared while they flew. But she’d had enough of the ceremony as well, ready to spend the night with her mate, her husband, who held her close to his chest, even long after they’d landed. 

He held her like that all the way to their shared room, while the final song from the party lingered in her mind. She hummed it softly, the sound resonating against his chest, continuing when Cassian placed her on the plush bed.

She stopped when he kissed her. Took his time worshiping her with his fingers. His tongue. He guided her free hand to the membranes of his wings, showing her the right place to touch. 

Then, he settled himself between her thighs, moving inside of her until both of them fell into a mindless bliss. For a while, they could do nothing but cling to each other, a thin layer of sweat coating their bodies as they rested together.

Afterwards, Cassian reluctantly untied the ribbon around their hands. He threw on a pair of cotton pants, while Nesta pulled one of her nightgowns from his drawer.

She felt his presence behind her. His palms skimmed up her sides, drawing her back into his muscular body.

“I have something for you,” he said, before pressing a kiss to her neck. Her cheek.

“Do you?” she asked, turning around in his arms. Looked up, and saw his gorgeous curls framing his face as his throat bobbed.

Nervous. He was nervous.

He held a piece of parchment. A nice one, that he probably had to go into one of those fancy shops along the Sidra to get, folded in neat lines that had a wax seal holding it together. 

“What’s this?” she murmured.

He turned the parchment over in his hand, hesitantly offering it to her. “It’s…a mating gift, I guess.”

“Oh,” she said, her brows furrowing as she looked at it. No one had told her about this. It was another part of this fae existence that simply didn’t know about. Like suddenly having an extra limb that she’d gone most of her life without, then being expected to run a race on it. “Was I supposed to–”

“No!” he said, shaking his head. “No. Just—open it, Nes.”

He held it out to her with his battle-callused hand. She took the paper, running her fingers over the red wax seal. A small flame, centered in the middle, surrounded by a thin circle.

“This must be important,” she noted.

“Everything involving you is important to me.” Said so freely, so resolute that her mind was incapable of doubting it.

She lifted her eyes to Cassian, only for a second, before breaking the seal with her finger and unfolding it so she could read what was inside.

She’d seen Cassian’s handwriting before. A scrawl that he tried to force into being something else, more refined. On his rough days, she would watch him trace each letter carefully until it came out practiced. Perfect. Without a flaw.

In something as simple as his handwriting, she could see the years, the centuries, of insecurity that had wormed its way into his head.

So she knew when she wasn’t looking at Cassian’s handwriting. “Did you hire somebody to do this?” she asked, looking the letter over.

He shifted on his feet. “I wanted it to be perfect.”

She didn’t want to unpack that. As if something coming from him could be anything but perfect. He had a knack for it, getting her things that were so thoughtful that they were hard for her to accept. 

Indulging him, she read the contents of the letter. Scanned over them quickly at first, before almost doing a double take and reading the words much more carefully.

“Wait.”

“I know it’s not much, but–”

“You’re building me a house.” The words escaped her in a breath. And she couldn’t believe it, that he would…

“Well, you can’t really leave here, can you? I thought you might like your own place. Close to everyone, if you want. Or not. Whatever you want.”

It was everything. All those years of never having something that was truly hers, that no one could take away. Years of never having a proper home. That made this everything.

“You’re building me a house?” 

She lowered the letter, looking at her mate once more, and saw the apprehension creeping in.

“I can get you something else, if you want–”

She shushed him, her heart flooding with such a rush of emotions that she could barely contain it. Her arms wrapped around him, pulling him closer so that their chests were flush together. Close enough that she could see the short stubble on his cheeks, that she could lean in and kiss him again.

“You’re building us a house.”

The corners of his lips raised at the changed wording, and it was quite possibly one of the prettiest things she’d ever seen. Cassian didn’t cry very often, but tears were gathered along his lower eyelid, getting ready to fall.

He hugged her close, letting his chin rest on the top of her head. “Yeah, Nes. I’m building us a house.”

***

She chose a spot on the banks of the Sidra, well on the outskirts of the city. When she first saw it, the waters lapping along the shore, she knew.

Trees covered the area, creating a canopy overhead that extended all the way out into the water. It was close enough that she could walk into the city if she wanted, while she could also be woken up in the morning by chirping birds and Cassian’s gentle snores as he held her.

Peace. After everything, the two of them could live in peace.

And so it began.

Nesta thought it would be a far-off fantasy. Something Cassian would get around to eventually, not on the top of his list of priorities. Not that she would blame him—he worked way more than he needed to already, much to her disagreement. But here he was in the hours between training, between camp inspections, hauling wide tree trunks across the clearing. And quickly, more quickly than she could have imagined, a simple, two-story house arose from its foundation. Plenty of room for the two of them, and possibly more than the two of them, if they decided they were ready (many, many years in the future.)

One week ago, she moved. Into the bedroom with soft light coming through the windows. Into the living room with the stone fireplace, each of the rocks hand selected by her mate. Into the porch in the front, so she could see the water as it streamed by, sometimes with fish jumping into the air.

It was home. And this morning, only pure contentment poured over her as she woke in her and Cassian’s bed.

Nesta made a cup of tea in the kitchen, savoring the warmth in her palms before opening the wooden door. Cassian had put stained glass on the top, a mosaic of colors that he’d purchased from a local artisan.

She sat on the steps of the porch, a fuzzy blanket wrapped around her shoulders to ward off Velaris’ chill as it began its descent into winter once more. Cassian had covered her with it last night, after he made love to her until she was sated on their bed.

Cassian was a tough male to keep up with. Because he’d fallen asleep with her, becoming her companion in that dreamless rest until his body forced him awake at ungodly hours of the morning. It was the soldier in him, she knew, that had him waking up before dawn broke on the horizon. 

Cassian’s axe thudded through the wood and onto the platform. She’d been able to hear it earlier, the noise distant and muddled through the walls of the house. It had lulled her further into sleep with its steady rhythm, even when the warmth of his body had long faded.

He was hard at work, and she settled herself in place, content to watch.

Even in the chill, he’d forsaken wearing a shirt. A shimmer of sweat covered him, glistening over his tanned skin, covered with tattoos. His hair was tied back, and his wings stood at attention. She couldn’t help noticing the way they moved with each blow. Involuntarily, reflexively, as if they were creating some kind of counterbalance to the force he was exerting downwards. It was a rocking chair today. So she didn’t have to sit on the steps anymore, he’d said. Once he got all the pieces cut, he was going to sand them down, before bending them into shape.

She’d seen the meticulous motions of his hands. For him, it wasn’t just a skill. It was fully an art, one that he took great pride in.

He’d explained it once, telling her that five hundred years of existence lent itself well to having hidden skills. One of Cassian’s was working with his hands—crafting things where there hadn’t been anything before.

This was his first house. On his own, at least. He’d helped with the building before in Illyria, and knew how to ensure it was structurally sound. There had always been others, though, to help. But he’d been insistent on doing this all by himself, refusing any offers of assistance from Rhys and Azriel. And what a shame it was, that she was left to watch the rippling muscles of Cassian’s back as he brought that axe down, again and again.

“See something you like?” he teased, not yet turning to face her.

“Oh, just some wood that I’d like to get my hands on,” she muttered under her breath.

Cassian brought the axe down once more, effectively splitting the large log in half. Then he turned, his mouth forming a wide grin as he wiped the sweat off of his forehead. Every defined line of muscle was on full display as he took step after step towards her, amusement playing in his eyes.

“I didn’t know you had such an interest in carpentry, sweetheart.”

“I have an interest in a wide variety of things. Didn’t you know?” she said, letting coyness slip into her voice. “Especially when there’s a certain hulking Illyrian involved.”

He chuckled, wings flaring slightly behind him. Damn peacock.

When he reached her, he leaned down, lifting her chin so he could press a kiss to her lips. “Then maybe,” he murmured, “I’ll have to give you a private demonstration.”

Her heart fluttered swiftly in her chest. Still, she couldn’t get enough of him, and by the look in his eyes whenever they landed on her, he couldn’t either.

“You’ll show me what to do with my hands, right?” she asked innocently. With her pointer finger, she trailed a line all the way down his bare chest to the waistband of his pants. “And how tightly I need to…grip?”

He caught that stray hand by grabbing her wrist, bringing it up to his lips to put a kiss on her knuckles.

“Don’t be a tease, Nes. Not if you aren’t going to follow through,” he said in warning.

“And what are you going to do about it?” She knew she could only give him so much attitude before he eventually took things into his own hands. He was getting there, but not quite.

His eyebrows rose, still amused. “I could have sworn I fucked all the brattiness out of you last night. Seems I was mistaken. But by all means, keep doing what you’re doing—I’ll just be taking notes for later.”

She hummed, looking upwards and exposing her neck to him. “That was last night. I’m awake now.” She assessed him, pretending she’d come to some sort of conclusion before saying, “But, if you don’t think you’re up for it…”

She shrugged, closing the blanket around herself with her free hand.

He snarled slightly, nipping at her fingers before tugging her forward just an inch. “What did I say about not being a tease?”

She scoffed. “It’s not my fault you can’t handle me properly.”

That seemed to do it. The hazel vanished from his eyes almost entirely, leaving in its wake a black that looked near ready to devour her.

“Handle you properly,” he muttered to himself. 

He pulled her up in a swift movement, the blanket falling from her shoulders and exposing her to the cold air. “You remember that bed I built you? The one in our bedroom. I’m sure you know the one,” he said, his casual voice laced with something just a touch menacing. He leaned in to say into her ear, “You have one minute to get into it.”

---

Tag List:

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[butts-bouncing-on-the-beltway]

So like I've been having a really serious internal conversation about this with myself and @luulapants let me know if I'm distracting from rather than adding to here, I'll happily budge over to another post.

There's this debate that rolls through the activist community every few years about "changing the system from within" and whether or not it's a useful approach. I have always had a REALLY hard time with this conversation for reasons that are hard to convey to others but I'm gonna try here:

It is absolutely not debateable that systems change and dictate the actions of the individuals operating it, regardless of their praxis or moral approach because the literal function of systems like this is to muffle the variations and standard deviations across a societal need area, for better and for worse. You cannot change a system from within because internally these systems are stagnant and atrophying relics of "stability" implemented overtop a world of immeasurable and uncontrollable variables

Most people who are accused of "wanting to change the system from within" are being assigned a strawman, not an honest reading of their motivation and praxis. I know this because *I* get accused of doing this all the time and I have absolutely NEVER attempted to institute systemic change from the inside of the system, even on the rare occasions my action was strictly legislative or judicial. There is, for MANY OF US a difference between "this system will continue to exist with or without me until it is forced to change by external factors, and in the meantime real human beings are still depending on this system to survive, and I genuinely do not believe it is reasonable to ask us to abandon them as casualties of the system while we restrict out action from the outside. This is where multi-prong movements that were affiliated and loosely coordinated while operating in entirely different spheres of friction and resistance (aka diversity of tactics) comes in. For my classic example, you can see the voting rights activists over the 1800s and 1900s splitting organizations into militants, congressional relationships, community organization, and Martyrs. While these groups were rarely formally affiliated, the people in them knew each other, often shared strategy with each other, and acted of not in coordination than at least in awareness of what the other prongs of the movement were doing.

The question of whether or not "changing the system from the inside" is feasible is the WRONG question. The right question is "what do we do about the fact that, regardless of what you as an individual may believe about the role of these governing and authoritative bodies (I believe some not great things folks!), almost every single person living here has a loved one who is dependent on the functioning of these systems, or is dependent on those systems themselves. When they are attacked, what are the material implications for those under whom it creates a floor (whether with aid, employment, programs/"supports", etc)?"

What is the benefit and to whom of people in activism spaces deciding that anyone who is still affiliated with/employed by the federal government is an ideological traitor and doesn't deserve inclusion in or access to spaces of solidarity?

It is very important to me that I continue to do what I have always done and care for/support the people I am able to in the ways I am able to, and a far more pervasive amount of that than I think young activists may realize does include the apocraphyl lesbian who worked for Bush senior when he was considering banning queers from federal employment who told him "me and many other extremely important staffers will be removed if you do this", and we got Don't Ask Don't Tell instead. Was DADT good?? Fuck no. But the fed was GOING to hurt us some how. The queers "on the inside" were able to shift and transmute that harm, and the queers "on the outside" were able to challenge it and exentually end it.

I don't know that I have a point here and I certainly don't think I'm the grand arbiter of technique and strategy here but like.

My goal is to keep as many people alive as I can for as long as possible. Why does it feel like some folks chose the goal "be the most moral all the time without taking the time to understand the moral/ethical dilemmas actually being faced"?

Some of you are falling hard for the Trump/Musk anti-federal worker propaganda. I think part of the problem is that a lot of people genuinely don't know how the federal government works, so here's an overview on the intended and current state of the so-called fourth branch of government, the federal bureaucracy:

Executive agencies are considered to be within the executive branch, officially, but can only be created, disbanded, funded, and have new leadership appointed through congressional approval. Well, in theory that is.

The majority of staff in federal agencies are called "career staff" who are nonpolitical civil servants who do every kind of work you can imagine, from IT to accounting to scientific field work to livestock inspections to nursing at VA hospitals. They do not, typically, change from one administration to the next, which is essential to ensure the government is able to continue functioning without interruption. These individuals of course can and do hold their own political opinions, but there are stringent rules on how, when, and where they can express them. It is arguably the most racially diverse workforce in the country. Many are veterans, and many are disabled.

Each agency is headed by a political office appointed by the president and confirmed by Congress. This includes a Secretary or Administrator and all of their hand-picked office staff, who are called "politicals." However, even before Congress confirms the president's nominee, the president can appoint an interim leader with no approval, who has essentially all the same powers but can't hold the position for very long. In short, even in those offices where a leader has not been confirmed by Congress, they are being led by Trump appointees.

When Trump makes an Executive Order, those orders are immediately dispensed through the executive agencies, who must abide by the letter of the order. I saw someone say NPS was "complying in advance" by taking the T off LGBT, but these changes were made across all agencies in direct response to Trump's "Defending Women" order. Any career who did not follow this order would have immediately been fired with cause, no unemployment eligibility, and in the current environment we also know their position would be permanently dissolved.

This is what we're dealing with right now. Trump (and his puppet master Musk) do not have the authority to dissolve government agencies, but they are trying to gut them, harassing careers and making the public turn against them, conducting illegal firings, threatening them into resigning. When people leave, their positions will disappear. Their intent is to diminish the staff until the agencies are non-functional. That's why careers are picking their battles. We're holding on by our fingernails to keep federal agencies alive and functioning. We're in the midst of a hostile takeover, a literal coup of the US government.

Yes, it's awful the T was removed on the website. We don't want this. But I promise that is small potatoes compared to the other battles being fought. I have trans coworkers being forced back to the office and they don't know what bathroom they can use. Our personal information is being leaked to hate groups. Careers are getting threats and spam to their work and personal emails. Most of us expect to be illegally fired. Soon. Last week was the largest layoff in American history, and it's just the beginning.

Please support federal workers. We are under attack.

[incendiobrock]

russian roulette {chris sturniolo}

———————————————————————————

pairing(s): mafia!chris x fem!reader

warnings: language, drinking, mentions of sex, angst, chris is lowkey toxic

summary: chris doesn’t know how to take accountability for his actions. (loosely based on the song above)

not proofread bc i’m lazy oopsies

———————————————————————————

the air was brisk as my heels clicked along the pebbled road. begrudgingly, i wrapped my arms tightly around my body, trying to pull my black fur coat closer to my freezing skin. the doorman gave me a curt nod as i approached the entrance to the grand hotel, not needing my name as he already knew who i was. i brushed past him, entering into the lobby and making my way over to the event i was being forced to attend.

with soft whispers of ‘pardon me’, ‘excuse me’ i was able to snake through the crowd. everybody was wearing formal attire, the room mainly filled with men in suits and ties. in a large circle, the most important men stood talking amongst themselves. without a sound, i slipped into my spot, not drawing any attention to my late arrival. an arm immediately snaked around my waist, the hand squeezing my hip as a hot breath tickled against my ear, “finally.” i swallowed the small lump in my throat, looking up and to the side to send him a tight lipped smile, silently apologizing for my tardiness. he didn’t look back, his face firm as he listened intently to one of the other men speaking, a glass of whiskey held tightly in his free hand.

the lack of his gaze caused my attention to shift to the rest of the circle. only men. “well, this is a huge business opportunity for us and i know that you will get it done.” one of the men spoke, wrapping up the conversation just as i had begun to listen. the man stepped forward, breaking the circle and holding his hand out, “pleasure, mr. sturniolo.” the man’s voice husked out, chris’ arm immediately leaving my waist as he gave the man a firm handshake. chris smirked, thanking the man and patting his shoulder a couple times, promising to not let him down. as the crowd dissipated i could feel my heartbeat began to rise at the obvious tension between me and chris.

“care to explain? or did you think you were just going to stay quiet all night?” his voice dripped with venom as he finally turned to look at me, gazing down and taking a quick scan of my figure wearing the fur coat and tight dress he had specifically purchased for me to wear. the room began to feel hot under his gaze, the fur of my coat beginning to suffocate me. “i’m sorry chris-“ i began, my voice barely a whisper. “-sorry doesn’t cut it.” his words taking over mine. “you knew that tonight was the most important night for me.. for the business.” all i could do was nod in response, fidgeting with the expensive bracelet that laid on my wrist (another request that i had to wear). chris huffed as he continued on, swirling the whiskey glass in his hand, “you made me look like a fucking idiot you know that?” the question cutting through me like a knife.

“they chose me, the youngest out of all the men, to do this for them… organized this whole event so we could talk business and so they could present me with this opportunity, and my girlfriend doesn’t even show up until the fucking end.” he rambled on, his frustration showing as he took a swig of his drink out of the glass. i knew there was no point in arguing back, there never was, but for some reason i couldn’t help but try to defend myself. “i’m only thirty minutes late chris..” my voice was still soft, a slight tremble evident in my tone. chris huffed again, his free hand coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose in annoyance. he let his eyes flutter shut as he tried his best to contain himself, to not make a scene in front of all of these important business partners. quickly, he dropped his hand back to his side, his face filled with anger as he looked at me once more, “if you were going to be late, you should’ve just stayed home.” i stumbled slightly on my feet as he pushed past me, leaving me alone in the corner.

a shaky sigh fell past my lips, my clammy hands rubbing down the front of my fur coat as i continued to grow warmer and warmer. after i spent a few moments collecting myself, i walked carefully over to the bar, making sure to hold my head high and confident. despite the pain i felt about the argument we had, everybody here knew who i was, who i belonged to. if i broke, or even cracked, it would be bad for his image. the image he cared so much about, the ego of being the youngest and only twenty four year old in the business. so as i made it to the bar, pulling out the chair, i kept my expression clear of any imperfections. the bartender quickly noted my presence and made his way over. “a glass of cabernet, please,” i ordered quickly, my eyes scanning the room for chris before returning to the bar where the bartender poured my glass of red wine.

“here you are.” the bartender said, sliding the glass towards me carefully. i grabbed the stem of the glass, pulling it closer to me as i began to fiddle around in my clutch for my wallet. “no- please.. it’s on the house.” the bartender quickly stated, nodding his head before he left to go attend to the other side of the bar. my mouth hung open slightly in shock, stuffing my wallet back into my clutch. i sipped on the wine, observing the room once more with no sign of chris. a soft scoff fell from my mouth as my eyes were trained on the dark red lipstick stain on the wine glass, lost in my thoughts. the music drowned out everybody’s voices besides the one in my head. ‘it’s not like i tried to be late’ i thought.

after a few more glasses of wine i decided to freshen up in the bathroom, the event still in full swing. my sight tunnel vision as i headed through the opulent hotel lobby, the bathroom hallway in the distance. a hand caught my wrist, pulling me backwards before i could make it into the hall. my head whipped around to see chris dragging me into another circle of people, his other hand on my hip, guiding me to face the crowd. “-i couldn’t do it without her.” chris stated with a confident smile, continuing his conversation with some men who looked important. before i could process what was happening, he pulled me closer into his side and grabbing my chin with his hand before connecting our lips together in a kiss. shocked, i halfheartedly kissed him back, his lips tasting of whiskey and spearmint gum. as he pulled back from my lips his hand traveled from my waist down to squeeze my ass, “you can go now baby, didn’t mean to hold you up.” he said, nodding his head back towards the hallway were he originally pulled me from. my eyebrows furrowed as i shot him a look only he could see. i stumbled backwards slightly as i went to step away from the group, his hand squeezing my ass once more as i turned over my shoulder.

pushing open the bathroom door, i quickly walked to the mirror looking at my own reflection. teary eyes stared back at me, finally able to feel my emotions now that i was out of shot from prying eyes. mascara ran down my cheeks, splotching the makeup i had spent hours perfecting. i felt pathetic as i watched myself cry in front of the mirror, my face turning red from embarrassment. the bathroom door swung open as somebody else walked in to use a stall, my head immediately dropping to my chest as i quickly snatched a tissue to pat my tears. suddenly, the sound of my phone ringing broke the silence of the bathroom nearly making me drop my clutch in surprise. “fuck-“ i muttered as i fumbled through the bag in search of my phone. shoving my wallet, lipsticks and liners, a pack of gum, and some tampons around i finally fished my phone out.

“h-hello?” my voice broke slightly as i picked up the call. i could feel my hand trembling as i held it to my ear, my heartbeat and breathing probably loud enough to be heard through the speaker. “where are you?” chris asked harshly. “i was… just freshening up in the bathroom.” i responded, quickly drying the rest of my tears and throwing my clutch over my shoulder. “we’re leaving.” chris demanded. “o-okay i’m coming-“ “i’m in the car. you better hurry or else you’re walking back.” his voice cut me off. my heart strained at his words, “yeah… i’ll be right out.” i muttered into the phone. without another word, chris hung up the phone, the sound of the disconnected call beeping in my ear.

my feet ached from my heels as i walked out of the hotel, searching the parking lot for the black rolls royce. a slight drizzle fell from the dark night sky casting a haze over the city. my skin prickled with goosebumps as i pulled the fur coat tighter around me, walking quickly down the sidewalk towards the car. i fumbled with the door handle, the drizzle picking up to a light rain. the door was locked, my knuckles wrapping lightly on the tinted window wishing to be out of the cold rain. as soon as the door unlocked i quickly pulled the door open, throwing my bag to the floor as i hurried into the passenger seat. before i could barely shut the door, chris was slamming down on the gas, steering the car recklessly around the other parked cars in the hotel’s roundabout. my eyes glanced over at him, his knuckles white as he gripped the wheel tightly, not uttering a word to me. i sunk back into the leather seat, swallowing the lump reforming in my throat. the car was completely silent besides the squealing of the tires as he sped down the road.

as the highway flew past us, rain pelting the windshield, i finally decided to speak up. “can we talk about this please?” my voice coming out weaker than i had intended it to. all chris did was scoff as his grip seemed to tighten even more on the steering wheel, his gaze dead set on the road ahead. “i said i was sorry chris… please, forgive me?” i pleaded, knowing he was capable of holding this grudge for days. my hand reached out, resting on his bicep slightly before he shrugged me off. “chris-“

“i don’t wanna fucking talk to you.” he finally snapped. my body trembled as his words echoed in my ears. “what can i do? how can i make it up to you?” i whispered. chris rolled his eyes, refusing to look my direction. slowly, i rested my hand on his thigh, trying to break down his walls and get him to talk it out. he gripped my hand tightly, removing it from his thigh before dropping it back down onto my leg, “i said fuck off y/n, yeah?” a brief silence falling over the car once more. defeated, i nodded my head before turning to look out the passenger window for the remainder of the drive. chris pulled into the garage, throwing the car into park and quickly stepping out of the car. i jumped as the car door slammed behind him, still looking out the passenger window. my eyes fluttered shut as i tried to steady my breathing but before i got the chance my own door was ripped open, chris standing to the side. “come on.” i opened my eyes, seeing his hand outstretched for me.

timidly, i placed my hand into his, swinging my legs out of the car before standing up, his hand supporting mine. his fingers laced between mine as he led the way into the house, opening the door for me and allowing me in first. i nodded my head in thanks as i stepped into the foyer, immediately shrugging off my fur coat so i could hang it on the coat rack. “i got it.” chris said softly, taking the coat from me and hanging it up, running his hand down the back to smooth out the fur. silently, we both walked to the bedroom where chris once again opened the door. i slipped inside and immediately sat on the edge of the bed, grimacing as i shifted my feet inside the heels. chris kneeled in front of me, propped up on one knee. his rough hand ran over my shin, squeezing it before lifting it to rest on his raised knee. he tenderly slipped off my heel, massaging my foot before switching to do the other.

my eyes watched him carefully, a soft hum of satisfaction falling from my lips as i was relieved from the discomfort of my shoes. gently, he placed both my feet back down on the hardwood floors. his hand ran up my leg again before stopping at my thigh, patting it before standing up off the floor. his body towered over mine as i stayed slumped at the edge of the bed, my eyes drooping as my vision blurred. he leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of my head. “want some comfier clothes?” he asked softly. i lazily nodded my head and he immediately went to find me something to wear other than my dress. i fiddled with the jewelry i was wearing, carefully taking it off and placing it delicately on the side table. chris walked back over with a big, soft t-shirt, one of my favorites of his to wear. my fingers brushed his as i took it from his hands. i reached awkwardly behind my back, struggling to find the zipper on my dress. chris placed his hands on my shoulders, turning me around so that my back was facing him, “here, let me.”

slowly, chris pulled the zipper down, revealing the bare skin of my back. he slipped the sleeves over my shoulder, letting the dress fall down to my ankles in a puddle. a firm kiss pressed against my shoulder blade, followed by a few more quick pecks up the back of my neck. “i know i was a dick tonight…” chris mumbled into my hair, planting another kiss to the side of my neck. i let out a soft hum in reply, his words only half registering in my sleepy mind. he pressed some more deliberate kisses along my neck and shoulder blade, his hands wrapping around my stomach and pulling my back against his chest. “s’pretty baby…” he whispered, the ghost of his lips hovering over my bare skin. i leaned my head back against his chest, my eyes shutting as i finally felt my emotions evening out for the first time the whole night. chris pulled me impossibly closer, “shower with me?” he asked softly. i shook my head softly, “m’ tired chris…” i whispered reluctantly. his hands now rested on my hips, slotting my ass perfectly on his lap. he frowned slightly, leaning back down to kiss my neck, beginning to gently suck on it.

“please baby? need you so bad…” he almost whimpered. i shook my head again, taking a slow step out of his grip and climbing onto the bed. “you go ahead, i’ll be here when you get back.” i assured him, pulling the t-shirt he had brought over my head. surprisingly he didn’t protest any further, quietly turning on his heel and going to take a shower. i pulled the covers over my body, the emptiness of the bed making me shiver slightly. hopefully chris wouldn’t take too long…

my eyes began to flutter shut as i lost my battle against my drowsiness, only awakening to the feeling of the bed dipping. through lidded eyes i saw chris with curly damp hair, some pieces sticking to his forehead. he quickly snuck under the covers, pulling them up over his bare torso. “sleepy baby?” he whispered, scooting closer to me and resting his arm over my waist as he laid on his side facing me. i hummed softly, nodding my head as i struggled to keep my eyes open. his hand moved to gently tuck some hair behind my ear, leaning forward to connect his lips gingerly against my forehead. “i was such an asshole to you tonight… i know you hate going to all my events and stuff that i have to attend..” he started. i shifted slightly on the bed, moving closer into the warmth of his body. “s’okay chris… don’t worry about it.” i murmured, still halfway asleep. his thumb brushed over my cheek, “you were crying?” he whispered. my eyes opened slowly, beginning to feel slightly more alert. i furrowed my eyebrows, unsure of why he was asking me that question. without another word he began to pepper my cheek with kisses making my heart flutter.

“i know i hurt you… let me make it up to you, please?” he murmured, his lips moving down to my jaw. his hand slipped beneath my t-shirt, running over the skin on my stomach and side. this is what he always did. it was never an apology, it was a negotiation. he would make me feel good, never own up to his hurtful behavior, and then do it all over again the next time. and for some reason i would always fall for it, maybe because i was foolishly in love… his fingers began to toy with the waistband of my panties, teasingly slipping under ever so slightly. a quiet, muffled whine left my lips before i could stop myself. “s’pretty… all for me yeah?” his voice was low and seductive. “chris…” i said, my tone slightly warning, my body wriggling beneath his taunting touches. he hummed into my skin, kissing lower down my neck. “tell me what you want babygirl..” he nipped at the soft skin on my neck, skillfully swiping his tongue on it after to soothe the pain.

“you can’t just… fuck the feelings away,” i mumbled, halfheartedly pushing at his chest to try and put some distance between us. he leaned back, propped up on his elbow as he searched my face with confusion. “what do you mean?” he questioned, his fingers now tracing up and down my arm. i sighed, unsure of why i had chosen tonight of all nights to confront his inability to accept his wrongdoings. “you really hurt me tonight chris.” i stated, looking deep into his eyes as he continued to study my face. his fingers stilled on my arm as my words filled his ears, “i know… that’s why im trying to make it up to you.” his reply lacking any notion that he was understanding my hesitation. my body shifted on the mattress, trying to escape his touch. “that’s my point chris… you can’t just kiss it better.” his eyebrows furrowed as a toothy smirk took over his face.

“that’s why i’m trying to fuck it better,” he clarified, playfully poking at my sides as he grinned. i gasped as i struggled to not laugh, slapping his hands away in protest of being tickled. “s-stop,” i choked out between soft, short giggles, still swatting at his hands. he smiled, pulling his hands away and holding them up in surrender, allowing me to catch my breath. as i sucked in some air, calming my heat rate, i thought of my next words. “you do this every time we fight… you think we can just have sex and then you never have to actually apologize… it’s like you don’t know how to take any sort of accountability.” i said, laying my cards fully out on the table. he scoffed, rolling his eyes dramatically. “oh come on… i apologize.” he countered, his eyes narrowing slightly as he looked at me. i shook my head side to side, “you don’t chris… you never have.” my voice barely above a whisper.

he moved closer to me again, his arm wrapping around my waist as his face hovered inches above mine. “well, that’s what the sex is for… i make you feel good and then you forget about when i made you upset…” he whispered back, his thumb returning to my cheek. i shut my eyes, squeezing them slightly as his words dug at my heart. “i don’t want the sex, chris.” he stroked my cheek gently, watching my face as i scrunched my nose. for once, he stayed quiet, silently urging me to keep speaking. “sometimes… i just want to hear you say you’re sorry for hurting my feelings.” i admitted, opening my eyes again to look at him as he processed my words. something changed in his eyes, the dark lust washing away as it was replaced with a slight twinge of sadness. my breath caught in my throat as i waited for a reply, expecting him to come up with some sort of excuse. “i’m sorry…” he finally whispered after a moment of silence. i felt my heart nearly stop beating at his words, my stomach dropping. more silence fell over the bedroom as he looked deeply into my eyes, noting the pain behind my words. “i’m so sorry. you don’t deserve to be treated the way i treated you tonight.”

the sincerity in his words was foreign. the concept of accountability long lost on his end, yet here he was finally putting in an effort. it meant more to me than he probably ever could imagine. “if i weren’t so in love with you i would’ve left you a long time ago…” my words came out as my voice cracked. he quickly shifted on the bed, laying back on the black, silk pillowcase. “come ‘ere…” he whispered, slipping his arm under my neck and pulling me into his side. i curled into him, tucking my head into his chest as he rested his chin on my head. a firm hand rubbed up and down my back soothingly. the cool metal of his silver bracelet brushing over my skin as he slipped his hand under my shirt. i didn’t dare move as i stayed glued to his side. the scent of his cologne lingered in my nostril, filling me with a warm sense of familiarity and comfort. the warmth of his body luring me to sleep. chris stared up at the ceiling, watching as the fan spun while i drifted off to sleep in his arms. he pulled me closer, a heavy sigh leaving his lips as he mulled over my last words.

‘if i weren’t so in love with you i would’ve left you a long time ago.’

[vilevenom]

It's only 8pm where I live, which means I'm not too late for Valentine's Day posting!

You're the One I Want to go Through Time With

Fandom: Sonic the Hedgehog (no specific media)

Pairing: Sonic/Shadow

Summary: Greying quills were not a deterrent for Shadow, but Sonic seemed to think they were.

Shadow would be remiss to say he hadn't noticed the slow shift of peoples attitudes towards his relationship with Sonic over the years. At first it was simply the occasional odd look shot towards them here and there, but those eventually developed into looks of disapproval and quiet comments whispered behind hands. The hybrid had taken it all in stride, sticking his nose in the air and ignoring anyone who simply didn't understand, while adding a sharp glare towards anyone who felt like they could be more bold in their disapproval. Sonic found it all to be incredibly amusing and did little to quell the murmurs that had begun to follow them when they went out in public together.

Today, however, there was a new kind of comment that Shadow hadn't been expecting, and he feared it was truly the very last straw.

"I have to say, it's so nice to see young people taking their elders out!"

The waitress was well meaning, all sunshine and rainbows with a wide, kind smile. It didn't stop Shadow's quills from standing on end while Sonic snorted heartily into his water, spraying droplets across the table and his plate.

"Excuse me?" Shadow murmured, arching an eyebrow at the girl, who was apparently undeterred by Shadow's dour expression.

"Oh, it's just," she waved a hand through the air, order pad clutched to her chest, "you never see young people spending time with their elders these days. It's such a shame, because they always have so many amazing stories! They deserve to get out and socialize too, y'know?"

Sonic continued to chuckle into his napkin as he wiped up the water from his muzzle, while Shadow looked as though he was trying to set the waitress on fire with his glare alone, all while she continued to smile sunnily at the two of them.

"I'm older than he is," the dark hedgehog finally stated bluntly, causing the girl to falter, her smile turning stiff as she blinked in surprise at Shadow.

"O-oh," she floundered, pen flicking through her fingers quickly - obviously a nervous habit, "Well, you certainly look good for your age!" She let out a forced, nervous laugh, before quickly scurrying away to give their order to the kitchen.

"Shadow," Sonic scolded gently, though the grin on his face easily betrayed the fact that he was still beyond amused, "That was mean."

"How? It's technically the truth," the dark hedgehog said with a shrug, taking up his own glass to sip at his water.

"Once upon a time you'd argue that we were the same age," Sonic teased, "Didn't you always used to say that those fifty years in stasis didn't count?"

"That was because you'd always try to make me feel foolish for not knowing things about modern pop culture. You used to call me an old man for only listening to music from the fifties."

"And look at you now," the blue hedgehog hummed, running fingers through his greying quills, "dating someone in their fifties. Guess you are still an old man."

"Maybe I should dye my quills white so people will stop making stupid comments," Shadow groused, setting his water glass down with a bit more force than strictly necessary.

"Don't you dare!" The smile finally slipped from Sonic's face, "I love your quills just the way they are. If anyone should be buying dye, it should probably be me. I think mine are more silver than blue at this point."

"I love your quills just the way they are," Shadow countered with a sharp glare, "They show all the life you've lived. You deserve to show them off with pride."

Sonic smiled warmly at Shadow, reaching across the table to take his hand and give it a gentle squeeze. "And I wouldn't change a minute of any of that time. But…I think the comments are starting to get to you. Don't think I haven't noticed how you bristle when someone says something when we're out for a walk, or running errands."

"I miss the days when I could just punch someone when they annoyed me," the hybrid lamented, resting his cheek in his free hand as he leaned in towards Sonic across the table. "Being the ultimate weapon during peace times is frustrating."

"Don't try to change the topic."

"I wasn't."

"Shadow…"

The dark hedgehog sat back with a heavy sigh, slipping his hand away from Sonics as the waitress returned with their food, wisely choosing to stay quiet as she set their plates down before hurrying away again. He pretended he didn't see the momentary flash of hurt on Sonic's face as he picked up his fork to stab at his salad.

~

For the couple of weeks following what Shadow had begun to dub 'The Restaurant Incident' had occurred, he began to notice Sonic pulling away from him. He'd opt out of their daily walks, siting that his old knee injury was acting up due to the colder weather, and had held a book up (which Shadow knew he'd already read no less than seven times) claiming he just had to finish it, to avoid attending their weekly errand run. It was easy for the dark hedgehog to pick up exactly what Sonic probably thought he was cleverly getting away with. He was hiding himself from the public to try and save Shadow's pride. And the hybrid was not going to have any of it.

A quick glance over the calendar revealed that Valentine's Day was less than a week away. A slow smirk curled across his muzzle as a plan rapidly formed in his head.

~

The park at the center of Central City had been transformed into a romantic getaway for the holiday. Archways of fake flowers shrouded nearly every walkway from the prying eyes of the city streets, while a grand bandstand had been erected right in the middle of the park, where various artists performed throughout the day for the throngs of giddy couples who meandered through the fantastical gardens. Various vendors were dotted here and there along the winding pathways, their carts overflowing with bouquets, candies, and shiny trinkets for lovers to purchase for one another as they walked. It was a sight to behold, especially as evening began to fall, and the fairy lights that had been strung up throughout it all lit up, drawing gasps of delight from the park goers, all while the sunset cast glorious shades of oranges, pinks and purples across the sky.

Amy Rose herself could not have planned a more perfect moment for Shadow to enact his plan.

It had taken him hours to convince Sonic to leave the house. First he'd complained that the bed was far too warm and comfortable to get up, then his knee ached from the cold once he was finally mobile. After that he'd had chores to complete around the house, and then he hadn't wanted to leave without showering since he'd worked up a sweat while cleaning. But, finally, Sonic had run out of excuses and Shadow nearly shoved him out the door into the crisp February air.

The park wasn't a regular location for them to take a walk, but Shadow had made a comment about the holiday and how he'd wanted to go somewhere different. Sonic had been reluctant to agree, but Shadow curtailed his dithering with a quick chaos control. He couldn't argue if they were already there, after all.

Sonic had nearly dug his heels in when he'd seen the state of the park, but Shadow simply looped a dark arm around tan and dragged him along, head held high, despite the looks they were being shot from some of the other couples. Sonic seemed to have some misguided misconception that the hybrid was embarrassed to be seen with him because of their perceived age difference, but that was so far from the truth it was laughable. Shadow had never given a damn about what other people thought of him, and he never would. They could leer and make snide comments at him all they wanted and it would never make a dent in his self-worth or pride. No, his anger and irritation were on behalf of Sonic. The blue hedgehog was a hero, and one of the only reasons Mobius had managed to escape the clutches of Ivo Robotnik and his plans to turn the planet into a giant mechanical nightmare factory. He didn't deserve to have the people he'd saved look at him like he was some sort of pervert for being with Shadow. It made the hybrid's blood boil.

"Shadow," Sonic's voice was uncharacteristically quiet as he hunched his shoulders minutely, his pace slow as they strode under a beautiful archway of pink lilacs, "People are staring."

"Let them," Shadow hummed with a shrug, tightening his hold on Sonic's arm, "It never bothered you before."

A soft hum was all the response he got, making Shadow's quills bristle. Sonic was meant to be vibrant and bratty, not quiet and demure. It frustrated him to no end to think that the blue idiot really let one less than ideal interaction finally push him into feeling awkward while on Shadow's arm. He let out a slow breath, forcing his shoulders and quills to relax as they approached the band stand in the center of the park, just as the sunset met its zenith on the horizon, the world around them taking on a soft pink hue.

"Wait here," Shadow murmured, pressing a brief kiss to Sonic's cheek as they came to a stop near the gazebo.

"Only for you," Sonic teased easily back with a smile, which warmed the hybrid's heart. It was at least nice to know Sonic hadn't dug himself into such a hole of self-doubt that he couldn't still joke about how no one could ever get him to slow down or stop until Shadow.

With that, the hybrid slipped away from Sonic, casting only a single glance backwards to witness the blue hedgehog shift awkwardly and shoot a painfully forced smile at a couple who were openly staring at him. It was hard to tell if it was because they recognized him or not, but Shadow didn't care. Soon the whole park would recognize him. He slipped around to the back of the band stand where the organizers and a handful of performers were, making a beeline for a tall coyote woman with a microphone and a clipboard.

"Ah," the woman said with a smile, a hand over the microphone she wore as she spoke to him, "You must be Shadow the Hedgehog."

"That's correct," the hybrid nodded, "You're Miss Dubois?"

"Please, Charlotte is fine."

"Charlotte, then," Shadow nodded, turning towards the stairs that lead up to the stage, "Is everything ready?"

"To your exact specifications," Charlotte hummed, glancing down at her clipboard, before tilting her head at Shadow, "Is he really here? The legendary hero of Mobius?"

"Yes," the hybrid stated simply.

Charlotte obviously anticipated for Shadow to elaborate, as she stood in silence for a moment before clearing her throat. "Okay. Well, the band currently on stage will be finished in a moment, and then the mic is all yours."

Shadow simply nodded and moved towards the stairs, folding his arms over his chest as he waited for his queue to step up onto the stage. He'd been preparing and practicing what he was going to say and do for the last few days, since he'd hatched his plan, but it didn't stop the nervous butterflies in his stomach from causing a commotion. Which was ridiculous, really, given that he and Sonic had been together for going on nearly thirty years.

The time to climb the stage steps came all too quickly, and suddenly Shadow felt like he might vomit. However, as the ultimate lifeform, he was above such base reactions to nerves, so he pushed the feeling down and climbed the stairs, approaching the microphone as curious murmurs rippled through the assembled crowd below. He licked his lips as he adjusted the microphone to the appropriate height, his eyes scanning the crowd until he spotted Sonic, who was staring up at him with wide, surprised eyes.

"Good evening," Shadow murmured into the mic with a smile, gaze fixed on his blue hedgehog, who couldn't seem to wipe the flabbergasted expression from his face, "and happy Valentine's Day. I hope you all have been enjoying the day with your loved ones in this beautiful wonderland of a park the city has set up. I'm sure you're all curious as to why I, a seemingly random hedgehog, have put a pause on your evenings entertainment. Well…that is to celebrate with my own loved one. He is…indescribably precious to me, and to many of you as well, I'm sure. Although his quills have greyed and his speed has slowed, I'm positive the name Sonic the Hedgehog still ignites wonderment and awe in the hearts of those who recall the days of The War." He paused and gestured towards Sonic, who jumped as a spotlight landed on him. His smile was lopsided and confused as he waved at the crowd, who burst out in a cacophony of clapping and cheers.

Once the noise settled, the hybrid continued. "He saved countless lives, including mine, and asked for nothing in return, except the ability to live freely. And live he did. We both did. Sonic showed me what it truly meant to live, and has been my steadfast companion and loving partner for decades now. Nearly thirty years we've spent together, freely. But…I don't want that freedom anymore." A collective murmur of surprise ran through the crowd, before more cheers erupted as Shadow took a knee at the edge of the stage, a small ring box held out in his nearly imperceptibly shaking hand. "Sonic the Hedgehog," Shadow spoke quietly into the mic, "Will you do me the honor of becoming my husband?"

With speed Shadow had been certain Sonic could no longer achieve, the blue blur was in his arms, tears in his eyes and laughter on his lips. "Yes! Yes, of course! Duh," the blue hedgehog gasped into Shadow's shoulder, before pulling back to snatch the ring box out of his hand. He ripped his glove off with his teeth and nearly fumbled pulling the ring from its little velvet pillow. Shadow snorted as he covered Sonic's excited hands with his own, taking the simple golden band from Sonic to slide it on his ring finger, all while delicate flower petals burst from strategically placed canons and fluttered around them on the breeze.

"Happy Valentine's Day, Sonic."

"You big sap," Sonic muttered tearfully, cupping Shadow's face in his hands as they forgot the rest of the world existed around them, "I love you."

"I love you, too. Never forget that."