#'Whatever. You're coming home with ME.' without batting an eye - this is not necessarily a good thing but it is true.

[bumblingbabooshka]

'Maneuvers' Wherein both Tuvok & Chakotay get in trouble.

[sukirichi]

Hi! I hope you're doing okay. So I just had a thot. And idk what to do with it. So Imma just put it here cause your blog is my new favourite. I'm not even joking. I literally devoured everything related to Tokyo Rev on your blog. So here's my theory. Do correct me if you think I'm wrong Sensei!

Bouten husbands and where they liked to be kissed the most/ or is their weakness. (Ps: it's just my opinion. I mean no offense to anyone.)

Mikey~ Kiss him on his shoulders and he'll cry. Cause he's been bearing all the burden of his dark and decaying world for so long that he doesn't even know that he needs to take a minute for himself and rely on others around him. Especially since most ppl around him are willing to give their life and limbs for Mikey. He just can't seem to keep that in mind. So you've taken it upon yourself to remind him frm time to time. Just a little peck on his strong and broad-ish shoulders to remind him that he's not alone. That if nothing, he has you. He always will.

Rindou~ Something about being kissed on his cheeks, especially by his lover, does things to him. Like his cardiovascular muscles do a little somersault in his chest or something. Because yes, it doesn't matter if he's one of the big, scary and irreplaceable executive of Bouten, he still has an unconscious inferiority complex. Sometimes it just skips his mind that despite everything, he too deserves the world. And every once in a while you need to remind him about it. That he doesn't have to be flashy and snarky like his brother. He just needs to be himself and that he is undeniably worthy of love.

Ran~ Not many people are taller than him, you are no exception. So it makes sense that in order to kiss him you need to be on your tippy toes. And still you're only able to reach his neck. So yeah, just kiss him there. Right on his Adam's apple and he's a goner. It doesn't even have to be sexual. Ran is always the one to take charge. It's kind of in his nature and you happily oblige him. But every now and then, you also need to remind him to take a breather That he can just let go and get dotted over for a change. You're more than happy to take care of him, that he needs to be taken care off.

Koko~ This man not only, brings in the big dough for Bouten, but also beats up people while at it. To say that he's always overworked is an understatement. His hands are always doing something, illegal things most of the time. He knows he's no saint. That there's no coming back into the light. He's painfully aware. But once e intertwine your hands together and kiss him on top of his knuckles, he swears that it's his redemption. You're the only light in his dark and dangerous world.

Kaku-chan~ Please. Just kiss this man on his forehead. Please. He's literally out there, ready to give his life for the things he wants to protect. He's always doing that. Protecting the people that have gone astray, who have no more hope left. He's ready to die for them, if it means they'll keep going. So please, just once, just protect him instead. Protect him from the demons he skillfully hided in his head. Protect him from the nightmares that torment him every night. Just protect him for a change. He needs it more than he's willing to admit.

Sanzu~ Okay. Hear me out. He's deranged and he knows it. He knows he's won't bat an eye before painfully torturing someone to death. Heck he'll even do it with a smile plastered on his face. He knows that he's stained in blood almost all the time.(sometimes his own, most of the other times, not his own). He'll even relish it. He knows that he's been tainted with burden of death. He knows that he lives in the shadows. He's not sane. He's not good. He's bad. He's ugly. You can tell that these awful thoughts keep him awake at night. So when they do and he has this almost painful look on his face. Just pull him close and kiss him on his face, over and over. Kiss his scars, kiss his lips, kiss his nose, his eyes. Just don't stop until he's got your point across. That yes, it's true that he's despicable. But you still love him nonetheless.

Ps: Sorry that was too long and kinds got out of hand. But these are just my "thots". Thank you for hearing me out!~ Thot anon

hi i’m doing okay, thanks for asking n i hope you are too !! also aaah i’m glad to know my blog is your new fave, i hope you enjoy more of my future tokrev content 🥺 ALSO YES ITS HEADCANON TIME LETS GO LETS GO

mikey n shoulder kisses 🥺 i hc that mikey is stiff and rigid all the time without knowing. like you said, he has a lot on his mind and draken even said mikey had a heavy ass cross to bear, so imagine the weight and burdens he has to shoulder 🥺 so if you lean into him for a hug then kiss his shoulders, mikey deflates. to him, its like a reminder he doesn’t have to carry it all by himself all the time and poor bb forgets that often

cheek kisses for rindou 🥺 the idea of this big, bad executive infamous for breaking limbs but is actually a sucker for cheek kisses and turns into a soft lil bean when you cup his face and just smother him with love n affection? bless. rindou probably unknowingly exerts too much effort sometimes to prove something - may it be his strength, his power, or how he’s perfectly capable of fighting by himself - he’ll have that voice at the back of his head that he needs to do something. giving him cheek kisses grounds him and elicits butterflies in his stomach bcos he realizes that, “oh, i don’t have to try so hard. silly me...now more cheek kisses, please.”

ran and neck kisses !! ON THE FLOOR RN, TELL ME MORE. but yes omg i also hc that ran is such a giver and grown up to look for others the way he does for rindou, so in his head, he’s kind of drilled it into himself that he has to be the one in the lead - not necessarily in a mikey way - but in a “he needs to take charge and take his responsibilities seriously” kind of thing. like mikey, ran is probably often deep in thought as well despite his teasing mannerisms, that when you kiss his neck he can’t help but soften. he enjoys being doted on. loves to be the one on the receiving side. has the sweetest smile on his face when he gets a lil ticklish and he just feels like he’s on cloud nine <33

knuckle kisses for koko 😫 everything you said was on point !! his hands are probably so tired from fighting and counting bills all day, not to mention the amount of paperwork he has to do bcos who else will do them ?? no one knows the inner system of koko and how it works as well as koko does, and he wants to do his job right. he gets a little too absorbed in his work, however, that koko gets a little confused when you take his hands away from whatever he’s working on to leave little kisses at the pads of his knuckles, maybe even massaging his hands or playing with his fingers to help him relax a bit. and you know how koko is so good at what he does bcos its all he knows, but at the same he probably hates how he treads on this dark path ?? so when you kiss his knuckles, he feels relieved. like everything will be okay and second chances are real n something he’s worthy of

omg now this is my favorite - kakucho + foreahead kisses. forehead kisses are always so intimate and soothing in a sense. like come here so you can kiss him on the forehead, watch the way his eyes flutter close and a smile tugs at his lips when your lips trail down to his scar, all the while your hands are cupping his face with such tenderness he never really knew of. kakucho is so used to being the tough guy with his rough childhood that it almost feels surreal. surreal that he’s in bed, with you, safe and sound and you’re kissing his forehead so comfortingly he doesn’t have to worry about putting his walls down for a second. he feels safe. he feels at home. but most of all, he knows he’s not alone and he has you - his family

kissing sanzu’s scars 🥺 everything you said was beautiful n i can totally see it happening !! as much as we all know sanzu takes great pleasure and finds entertainment in what he does, it sinks down a little too late. when he’s not high, that’s when he feels the lows. when the blood on his hands are dried, that’s when he realizes it gets harder to wash them off until it stains deep all the way into his soul. then his scars. he sees his scars and remembers how he has to hide them at some point. he stays awake at night and oddly enough, silent and unmoving. and what better way to ease his worries than to pull him close and just to kiss his scars that he thinks are only one of the ways the darkness - the ugliness - of his soul shows through. keep him close and kiss his scars. sanzu may not always be in the right mind to understand your words, but the simple gesture of showing love and acceptance to a part of him that makes him a whole will engrave deep into his heart. leave him butterfly kisses. kiss him from everywhere to his eyes until they flutter close to sleep. kiss his nose adoringly until they scrunch so cutely. kiss his lips until its your taste that overwhelms him. and kiss his scars to remind him his imperfections are accepted and loved

[broadstflyers]

A/N: Hello everyone! This is my first ever fic! It's really just an idea I've had for months, and then wrote, and then couldn't figure out which hockey boy it fit, until some mutuals were kind enough to help. I settled on our boy Barzy! It's inspired by Taylor Swift's "Gold Rush", and I really wanted to do my best in reflecting the beautiful imagery this story creates for me. I hope I did it justice. It's a little terrifying putting my writing out there, but I hope people enjoy it!

Word count: 3.4k

Warnings: Two curse words, it's really just internal conflict within the reader

Summary: You're celebrating your dad's 50th birthday with some friends and family at a dinner party. You happen to land your eyes on a beautiful stranger, who you can't seem to get out of your head. You spend the rest of the night wondering, should you go up to him?

Or do you let him walk out the door?

___________

They say when you first lay eyes on your soulmate, time stands completely still. As you gaze into their eyes, it feels as though you’ve known them for multiple lifetimes. It feels like home. Is that even remotely true?

You start to take a sip of your drink and turn your head slightly to take in your surroundings. Your eyes dance around the room, until they stumble upon another pair of wondering eyes. Your eyes lock, and you’re instantly sucked into the mysterious yet intriguing twinkling grey-blue color that compliments his navy blue suit. Suddenly, your breath hitches in your throat, every part of your body stiffens, except for your lips that part slightly and eyes that widen. The drink is long forgotten, you’re even struggling to keep it from practically falling out of your hands and onto the wooden floor. The party is now just a blur, the noise? What noise? The world is muffled, as if someone stuck your head into a hundred pillows. Images stream through your mind like an endless movie reel wrapped in shimmery gold. Endless laughter on a first date over coffee. Him rubbing the back of your hand as you take a stroll through the park. Holiday mornings, exchanging gifts. Would he participate in the tradition of opening small gifts first, or would he want the biggest gift right off the bat? Ice skating and him catching you as you stumble on a pesky track in the ice. Him tossing you into the pool while you’re trying to put up a fight in a losing battle. A sweet and quiet proposal where he promises his forever love. A kiss at the altar in front of all your friends and family. Chasing after rambunctious little kids trying to get them to nap. All these gold dripping images of a pure love plow through your brain. Your heart is the unmovable object. They are the unstoppable force.

You and him only shared a look for what was probably half a second, but the thick air that seemed to only be affecting you made time feel like it stood completely still.

You burst back into reality with the help of a slight head shake. “Woah,” you quietly whisper. You blink a few times and finally get around to taking a sip of your drink to quench your parched throat. Did you just see a whole future...with a stranger?

“Hey, are you okay?” Stella asks. Her hand gently touches your arm as she cocks her head to the side. Her brows are furrowed in what can only be described as pure confusion. Did you really space out that badly as she was talking? What were you guys even talking about?

“Oh,” you say as you gently shake your head, “yeah.” You chuckle, “yeah, I’m just fine.” You wait a beat then say, “Hey, I’m going to use the bathroom really quickly, okay?”

“Sure thing,” she nods. “Do you need me to come with?”

“I’m totally fine, I promise,” you reassure with every bone in your body while giving her your drink. You really just needed to be alone to calm your racing mind that has now turned a complete stranger into a romantic interest with the power of a golden montage.

You make your way over to the exit of the dining hall and push the creaky open with your shoulder, and the amount of force you had to use honestly hurt. Your heels click down the tiled hallway of the golf club to find the bathroom door. The rectangular bathroom mirror framed in an intricate gold design holds your reflection. You slightly tilt your head as you take a look at your face. It’s like someone took the color of a clown nose and colored in your face with it. Jeez. You shake your head and sigh. This isn’t good, and deep down, you know that. You hate when you’re like this, all flustered over someone who just happened to lock eyes with you. His eyes. They were gleaming and just all around beautiful. What were you thinking again?

Oh, right.

Well, it’s pretty obvious he has this power over you, and you don’t like that. Now is your face going to become red everytime you see him? You check your phone. There’s still two hours left, plenty of time to possibly see him again. You can’t tell if that’s necessarily a good or bad thing.

You pace around the bathroom trying to reason with your begging heart. He was pretty good looking, which means that so many people naturally want him. Who was he even talking to, anyways? You gasp and stop in your tracks, blood running cold. “He was talking to a girl,” you mumble. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t sound completely and utterly crushed. In the heat of the moment, you completely failed to realize the blonde standing next to him. You lean over the counter, the cold marble feeling on your arms making your arms break out in goosebumps. You take one last stern look in the mirror at your face. “See, this is why we can’t allow ourselves to fall that hard,” you whisper angrily, “everyone wants him, and I just...I don’t like a gold rush like that.” You shake your head again and take one last deep breath to shake out any other thoughts. You can see yourself standing barefooted at the bottom of a hole looking astounded at how tall the walls have grown, and how distant the light looks. It feels like you soared lightheartedly into the sky, just to fall and crush every bone in your body.

You roll your eyes to yourself while slightly cursing yourself out. Pushing the bathroom door open, you step out into the hallway and make a beeline back for the dining hall. Your purse starts spastically vibrating, so you hastily fish your phone out to put an end to the obnoxious noise. Scanning the text, you read that your mom is asking where you went, as the cake for your dad’s birthday is going to be cut soon. You sigh as you text, “I’m hurrying back now.”

That’s all you see before you feel a slight brush tickle your bare shoulder. Your eyes don’t dare move from your phone screen. You reason that it’s not someone you know, as they would have said something to you. Your hands shake as you put your phone back in your purse.

“Oh, sorry,” the voice trails off as he continues to walk down the hallway after he brushed up against you.

“It’s okay,” you whisper, without turning around, which is admittedly ridiculous.

As soon as you can judge his footsteps are far away enough, you make a quick glance behind to see if it really was him. And judging by the navy blue suit, it was.

Suddenly, the golden montage flows through your mind once more, showing an image of yourself wearing an old shirt of his, maybe one from when he was in high school for whatever sport he played, if he played one. Your feet feel the coolness of the wooden floor of the supposed home. The home both of you share? It’s so tangible, so real that you almost reach out to touch it. It’s right there...

Your head jerks yourself out of the vision once more, or rather the fact that you’re now faced with a white wall in front of you. You sigh a long frustrated sigh. I can’t believe I really walked by the entrance, how embarrassing, you think as you turn on your heels to backtrack. Why does this stranger have you so wrapped around his finger? No one else has been able to even come close to doing that. You feel your face with your hand, and it’s burning. I’ll go in there looking like a tomato, it’s fine.

You do your best to quite literally shake off those thoughts as you push open the dining room hall door. “There you are!” your mom says. “We’ve been looking everywhere for you. Come on, we’re going to sing happy birthday to Dad.”

“Can’t wait,” you beam. After all, your dad only turns 50 once, and this night is about him, afterall. You follow your mom to a table with a white tablecloth resting on it.

Stella pops out from behind your dad to approach you and whispers, “Are you sure you’re okay?”

You resist the urge to gently shove her in front of everyone. “Yes,” you pleadingly insist, “now stop asking me in front of Mom and Dad, they’ll think something is wrong.”

She side eyes you with an attitude. “Fine.”

“They’re my girls,” your dad says with a smile.

You and Stella laugh while leaning into him for a quick hug. “Hey dad,” you both say in unison.

The room completely dies down, people could hear a pin drop. “Ready?” your mom asks the guests. The room takes a collective deep breath.

And so the melody of Happy Birthday rings joyously through the hall, you can see the mystery stranger out of the corner of your eye. Heat radiates off your skin, it’s almost like you can feel his eyes boring into you. It takes all the willpower you can muster, but you resist the temptation to look over at him all throughout the song.

When the song is over, the room breaks out into obnoxiously loud clapping. You, Stella, and your parents share loving looks and warm smiles.

Eventually, everyone proceeds to return to normal chatter at the one rectangular table of two that they’re sitting at, and so do you, Stella and your parents.

You pull out your seat next to your sister near the middle of the middle of the table and sit, fixing your dress.

“Ahem,” Stella says in an ill attempt to cover her suspiciousness with a clearing throat noise. Queue whatever accusatory question she’s got.

“Let me just set something straight,” she starts.

“Go for it,” you say as you reach for some water.

“It’s definitely that guy a few seats down, isn’t it?” She smirks. She’s got you trapped in her little web, and she knows it.

You may or may not have fought back choking on your water or pulling a ridiculous spit take on the nice white table cloth.

You lean in and harshly whisper, “Well you didn’t have to say it that loudly.” You glance over at the mystery stranger and see his hand wrapped around his glass as he goes to drink it. He has a thick silver ring on his pointer finger?

“Hello?” Stella shifts her head to selfishly cut off your view of him.

“Okay,” you sigh in defeat, “yes it’s him. Happy?”

“Very,” she says, very satisfied because she finally pried it out of you and got you to admit it. Someone else has you wrapped around their finger. She didn’t even have to know all the details of the montages to know. She could tell by the way your eyes glossed over and how your lips would slightly part like you were in a hazy daydream.

And you were.

“Who is he anyway? And why don’t we know him?” You ask.

“I don’t know, honestly. A little strange, isn’t it? Why don’t you ask mom who he is?” She suggests, but her cheshire smile suggests that she will somehow find out, with or without your mom’s help.

“But mom’s going to absolutely harass me until I say something to him. Just you on my tail is enough,” you say with an eyebrow raised as to say ‘don’t test me.’ And Stella knows you’re right.

“Alright, fine,” she concedes, “But why don’t you, I don’t know, talk to him?”

“I did,” you nonchalantly float.

Her eyes widen and her mouth forms an “O” from disbelief. Did you really not talk to people that much?

“Really?” she practically squeals.

“Yeah, he brushed by me and said, ‘Sorry’ so I said, ‘It’s okay.’” Okay, now you get why your friends and family get mad at you for refusing to talk to people. But cracking this joke was one you could not pass up.

Her face scrunches up and she exhibits the biggest eye roll you have ever seen. She opens her mouth to start saying something, probably to scold at you, but you open your mouth to cut her off first.

“Alright no, I haven’t. And do you know why?” As you’re about to get your thought out, you’re interrupted by a fit of laughter down the stretch of the table. Your eyes scan but freeze on the stranger, whose nose is adorably scrunched up as he laughs with multiple, yes multiple, people about goodness knows what. And there’s that other blonde that you still don’t know, laughing with him. You tear your stare away and focus back on your sister.

“Look, that right there. That’s why,” you say, anger burning through your chest.

Stella raises an eyebrow in her own judgemental manner. “He talks to people? You know people do that right?”

Now it’s your turn to return the favor of a judgemental eye roll. “No, Stella, I mean just look at him and the people he’s surrounded by. It’s so obvious that everyone wants him. Just look at that girl with him. I’m not the only one who wants to love him.”

Silence ensues between you two. She picks up her phone and shoots a quick text. After a moment she says, “Well, I think if you just talked to him, you’d be pleasantly surprised with what could happen. I have to help mom with distributing gift bags. You stay here,” she instructs.

You can only assume you’re not being called to help because Stella graciously told your mom that you’re potentially working up the courage to talk to someone that’s not one of your three friends or your family. How generous of her.

A few friends of your dad stop by your seat to say goodbye before they head out. The noise slightly dies down enough to scarcely hear some other conversations. You hear nothing out of the ordinary, just a girl talking about getting into her dream school to some guy. Your ears slightly move as you pick up on a voice that sounds like the one in the hallway earlier.

“Yeah dude, but did you see the fake out on the goalie on the second goal? That had to have been the best part.”

Out of instinct you open your mouth to interject, but quickly shut it and put it under lock and key. You blink in disbelief. Hockey? Did this man just speak on hockey?

You circle the rim of the coffee cup and stare at the brown liquid. In a different universe…

In a different universe you would have actually kept your mouth open, and maybe even squeezed some words out, too.

“Actually, that seamless stretch pass down the neutral zone from the defenseman after a pretty difficult forecheck set up the play pretty well. I’d give him a lot of credit, too.”

He’d probably look a little shocked, as do most guys when you interject your two-sense about hockey. But maybe he’d break out into a small smile and offer a rebuttal. Yeah, that sounds nice. Maybe one day…

Maybe one day you’ll be sitting next to him on the couch, watching a game while cuddling and brushing the hair out of his face. Oh who are you kidding, you’ll be up and screaming at the TV. It’s your staple.

A noise of someone dropping something behind you slightly startles you and pulls you out of your once again golden daydream. You finally stop mindlessly circling the rim of your coffee cup to take a sip, but only to find it’s now ice cold.

This is why you hate looking through a pair of rose colored glasses. It distracts you from enjoying things. You glance over at your dad who’s still talking to one of his good friends that lingered after festivities. You’re supposed to be celebrating him right now, but instead you’re literally stuck in this cursedly pure golden daydream that is almost too good to break.

You can see him. He’s still there, at the end of the table, chatting away with some dude. The blonde left at some point, though.

“Well, I gotta head out, man, good to see you. My sister needs help with packing her stuff for college tomorrow, so we’ve got a busy day coming up.”

Could that girl have been his sister?

“Congratulations to her on getting into her dream school by the way,” the guy says. “I talked to her when she was here earlier, and she seemed super excited.”

A wave of cool relief washes over your body, remembering the conversation about college you picked up on earlier. It was his sister.

“Yeah she is, she worked really hard, and it also involved a whole lot of crying,” he chuckles.

Ain’t that right, you think to yourself.

The table shakes as he pushes out of his chair. Your eyes remain glued to your coffee cup no matter how much you want them to move. You just can’t gather the courage to say something, and you’re cursing yourself for it. You don’t want to sit here and dream about him anymore. You want to actually let these things happen, for once. You want to just unleash all these swirling and sickeningly sweet emotions from your body and drown him in it. You want so badly to leap up and say something, anything. Step on those voices taunting you and mocking you saying that it could never happen, it could never be so it will never be. He’s so inviting that you can’t resist any longer. You go to reach out to him, but the door shuts before you know it.

And just as fleeting as he came,

He’s gone.

Fuck. It feels as though a brick is sitting on your chest, suffocating you. You really let your worries control you, and this time it feels as though you’re going to regret it for the rest of your life. You just can’t believe you let it happen when your mind was begging you to talk to him. You always do-

“Shit,” you mumble. In your frustration, you knocked over the remnants of the coffee onto the not-so-white-anymore table cloth. Tears prickle up in your eyes, your throat closes, and your nose begins to sting. You quickly swallow these emotions down your throat and begin to use a napkin to soak up the excess coffee. Drinks have really not been your friend tonight.

For the first time, you notice as you clean that it’s just you left in the room, besides a few people cleaning up on the other end. You’re not sure where your family has gone, but you haven’t received any texts prompting you to leave yet. It’s so silent that you can hear some muffled chatter down the hall.

Suddenly, you hear the same creak of the door open with an “oof” that doesn’t quite sound like your dad. Your blood runs cold and you freeze mid press into the tablecloth. You glance up without turning around to see a lone jacket hanging on a chair suspiciously close to the chair he previously sat in. Your eyes widen and dart around the room, but you dare not move, waiting to see what he does. Even after cursing yourself out for ten minutes while cleaning up spilled coffee, you still haven’t learned to make the first move. His presence feels like a forcefield, you can feel it heavily pressing into your back.

But he isn’t moving to grab the jacket, no.

A pointer finger with a silver ring taps your shoulder.

“Hey,” the clarity of his voice rings in your ears like a bell. Your heart is racing so fast that it feels like it’s going to burst out of your rib cage and run its own 10k. You slowly crank your head around to meet his eyes for the first time-- face to face.

And you must say, his face is really pretty when you actually talk to him face to face. Maybe you should do this more often. You take in his golden features, and struggle to hide a small smirk creeping up on your face. His messy hair falls perfectly into place on his head, and his kind face makes you feel as though a mess of metallic gold swirls are playfully swirling and dashing around you both. You’ve found him in this lifetime.

“I’m Mat, can I help you clean up before I grab my jacket?”