#but lately he's been choosing to sleep more often especially now that he has a party he trusts to look after him

[heybiji]

dreamless

[mangostarjam]

the proposal — kaiju no. 8, hoshina soshiro x f!reader, established fwb to fake engagement to lovers, smut, oral (m!receiving), piv sex, creampies, fingering, unprotected sex, slight exhibitionism/sex act in a public place, praise, mentions of oral (f!receiving), reader is referred to as 'girl', 'pretty girl', and 'honey', reader is unable/chooses not to have kids, written for the romcom collab run by @bloompompom ! 11.6k words

a/n: i really should've rewatched the movie before writing this but i got carried away! also my first time really writing in soshiro's pov which was an interesting challenge. would i do some things differently? yeah. am i going to share this anyway and apply those things next time? yeah. anyway i hope you enjoy!

Hoshina Soshiro wakes up with a handful of something soft.

It only takes a moment before he realizes what's going on. You've been sleeping over more and more often lately, and your previous activities must've worn you both out more than expected.

It makes sense. Soshiro was a little stressed, and you've always been willing to help him relieve it.

He squeezes your tit and snickers quietly when you grumble at him. You're sleep-warm and utterly relaxed, your body melting back into the solid length of him as you resettle in his bed. It's barely dawn, the room brightening little by little, the light catching on the loose strands of your hair and the sweep of your eyelashes as you scrunch your nose at his teasing. He pinches your nipple lightly.

"Hoshina-kun… I'll dropkick you if you're trying to go again right now."

"You're the one who keeps squirmin'," he points out. You push your hips back against him again in retaliation and his cock twitches with interest. "You sure ya don't want another round? One for the road?"

He watches you consider it, your eyes blinking open and squinting at the clock on his nightstand. He rolls your nipple between his fingers and smirks when your lashes flutter at the feeling, only to bite back a groan when you arch into his touch. Fuck, you're so sexy.

"You just want me reporting to Narumi with your cum staining my panties," you mutter. Oh, now there's an idea. He knows you can feel how hard he's gotten, pressed up tight against your ass. Soshiro won't deny that you're right.

You're naked besides the shirt you grabbed from his closet last night, though the soft material has rucked up around the curve of your waist. He's similarly barely dressed, just the thin barrier of his briefs keeping him from pressing against you fully skin to skin. You're so soft and pliant in his arms, fitting perfectly in the crescent moon shape of his body as his little spoon.

"You'd like that," he murmurs, relishing the little shiver that goes up your spine. In a moment of weakness, you had confessed once that you really liked his morning voice (and his seriously-gonna-kick-this-kaiju's-ass voice, and his follow-my-orders voice, and — but then he'd turned you around and fucked you against the counter muttering praises in your ear as you came all over his cock). "Don'tcha think it'd be fun? He's already gonna know you spent the night."

As evidenced by the many hickies Soshiro's left all over your neck. It might be a little childish, this possessiveness — especially when you're not even his, not really — but Soshiro likes leaving little marks wherever he can, some sort of proof that you were together and that you chose to fall into bed with him.

And you keep choosing him, even as Captain Narumi Gen of the First Division actively pursues you. You tell Soshiro all the time that rank doesn't mean much to you, and it's not like you're sleeping with people for advancing or clout — but you're a platoon leader in the First Division and that means you spend way more time with Gen than with him. It wouldn't surprise Soshiro if one day you decided he wasn't worth the hassle of traveling down to the Tachikawa base on your days off, if you decided that Gen is actually kinda hot and could get in your pants for once.

That'd be the end of your friends-with-benefits relationship. The two of you agreed from the beginning that it'd be exclusive — neither of you wanted to worry about protection, and Soshiro didn't want to bother with the hassle of other partners anyway. It was easiest with you and only you.

"Hey," you mutter, turning in his arms to face him and leaning up to bite fondly at his chin. "You're thinking too much."

He knows he is. The message he received yesterday from the Hoshina clan sits heavy in the back of his mind, though he can kind of ignore it as you suck bruises into his neck.

Soshiro groans low in his throat and leans down to kiss you as you sneak your hand into his briefs. He feels hot and shivery, arousal pooling deep in his gut as all the blood in his body flows away from his brain. You give his cock a few slow pumps, smearing the precum gathering at the tip to help the glide of your hand along his length, squeezing and twisting your wrist just right as he shudders and grabs at your ass. You kiss him hard, seemingly determined to erase his train of thought, dragging your tongue along his teeth and sucking on his lip as you throw your leg over his hip. "Fuckin' hell —"

"You're so hard," you mutter, rolling the two of you over so that Soshiro's flat on his back with your legs on either side of his hips. His hands go immediately to grip your thighs, eyes widening at the wet smear of arousal you leave along his lower abs as you drag his briefs halfway down his legs. He kicks them the rest of the way off as you press down on one of the bruises you left on his shoulder. "Fuck, Hoshina, you're so — you look so — I'm gonna — wanna ride you, 'kay?"

As if he'd say no. As if he'd ever protest anything you want to do when you're grinding the soft folds of your pussy along his cock, practically dripping on it as you adjust the angle and squeeze the base of him in your haste to sit on it.

Soshiro doesn't cum right away, though it's a close call. The wet, sticky heat of you enveloping his bare cock is a feeling he'll never get tired of. It's heaven and hell all wrapped up in you, in being with you, being inside you. You moan as he enters you, a low, rough sound almost punched unwillingly out of your chest.

"Hold on to me," he grunts, offering his hands for leverage. You take the offer gratefully, squeezing his fingers as you bottom out and pant. "Fuck, how're you still so tight?"

"Why're you still so big?" you huff, wiggling your hips a little to adjust to the stretch. Soshiro tenses, groaning as your walls bear down on him. He's not going to cum. He won't. He can last a bit longer. "I thought we went like, three rounds last night," you mutter, "you should be wrung out by now."

Soshiro laughs. "And I thought I fucked ya last night," he says. "Thought I fucked ya good and proper. But you're just too good for me, huh? Too good at bein' so fuckin' perfect."

He punctuates his statement with a sharp thrust, relishing the startled whine you let out and laughing a little more when you shoot him a halfhearted glare. "Quit it," you demand, "let me do this."

You raise your hips and drop down on him carefully, working up into a pace that makes your tits bounce. Soshiro wants to see — wants you naked — and thankfully you don't stop him as he reaches up to pull your borrowed shirt off. The change in angle makes your stuttered moans veer into whines, mixing with the sound of skin slapping skin echoing in the morning air. "You're doin' so well," Soshiro groans, hands coming up to hold whatever he can. You grab his shoulders for leverage, back arching as he leans forward to suck one nipple into his mouth.

"Hah — ahh, Hoshina —"

"What'd I tell ya to call me?" Soshiro grunts, switching to your other nipple with a lewd pop. He swirls his tongue around the pert bud and reaches down to rub quick circles around your neglected clit. "C'mon, pretty girl, what'd I say?"

You gush around his fingers, coating his cock in a ring of white as you bounce on it desperately. Soshiro can tell you're getting close — your whines get cut off, your walls get tighter, you dig your nails into his shoulders — and it only makes the coil threatening to snap in his gut tighten harder.

It's too early for this. You're worn out from last night, and pleasure is making your muscles strain. Soshiro can feel your thighs trembling with the effort of riding him. He leans back on one hand to help, timing his thrusts as you drop back down, hitting that spot deep inside you, keeping his other hand at your clit as you sob. The friction is driving him insane — you feel so good. He can usually keep his mouth shut during sex, only letting out rough groans and stuttered moans, but knowing you're affected by his raspy morning voice has him dropping his filter with every thrust.

"Feels so fuckin' good, pretty, you look so perfect on my cock," he grunts. You tilt your head towards the ceiling as you pant, granting him access to suck more bruises into your neck to bloom along with the ones from last night. "You're such a good girl — such a good fucking girl —"

Oh, he's gonna cum soon. You're squeezing him so tight, your wet walls squelching obscenely with every thrust.

And then you say it —

"F-fuck, Hoshina — I'm gonna — Soshiro I'm gonna cum —"

Ah, fuck.

"Nghh," Soshiro feels it snap, feels his thrusts get sloppy as he cums, thick ropes of white painting your insides as you whine and cry and cum around him, squeezing him tight, feels the sharp zip of pleasure racing through his body as all his muscles release.

You collapse on top of him and he catches you, breathing hard, sweat beading his temple and dripping into your hair. His arm is loose around your waist and he's trembling holding the two of you up with his hand planted flat on the mattress. "Can't believe you still came so much," you mumble into the side of his neck, "what the hell, Soshiro?"

"It's a going away present," he mutters back, laughing fondly when you pinch his side. "Make sure ya keep it in while you're reportin' to your Captain."

There's only the sound of harsh breathing for a moment as the two of you recalibrate and return back to your bodies.

"I'll need my panties," you say, lifting your head and pressing a kiss to his cheek. "Do you know where you tossed them last night?"

Soshiro traces a pattern idly along your bare back, following a few of your scars and smoothing along the sweaty skin. "You don't wanna shower first?"

You shoot him a look and he laughs. "You'll spill out if we do — unless you're planning on going again."

Soshiro hums and leans forward to kiss you, languid and easy. You kiss him back, as naturally as breathing, and maybe there's some post nut clarity involved but the idea he's been floating in the back of his mind seems a little more like a good plan the longer he kisses you.

"What d'ya think about marryin' me?" he asks.

"Is this why you called last night sounding like that?" you ask. Soshiro tilts his head and you copy him, pinning him in place with your pretty eyes. "I came over thinking you needed to talk, but you… distracted me."

Soshiro snorts. You still sound breathless, hazy and floating off the high of your orgasm. "I got a message from my family."

"The entire Hoshina clan?"

"Yeah," he says, shifting you more comfortably in his lap. He's getting soft, but you make no effort to move from off of him. "My dad was askin' me to come back."

"To do what? You're the Vice Captain of the Third Division — surely they've stopped hounding you about quitting the Defense Force to be a teacher." You say it so easily, as if they'd be stupid to bother trying. "You're literally better than Narumi's dumb ass against mini kaiju. Your family should be proud."

"They said something 'bout my future prospects," Soshiro admits. He has no idea why you have so much faith in him, but he appreciates it. "So it sounds like I'm bein' set up with omiai. I was thinkin' it'd be nice ta walk in with a fiancée so I could avoid that whole mess."

You hum thoughtfully, but it's not an answer. Soshiro helps you get off his lap, following you into the bathroom and helping to wipe you down with a wet towel as his cum dribbles out of you. Your panties are located and you slide them on, sighing. "I wish the train ride back was shorter, but there's no way I can sit that long with your cum in me. Sorry, Hoshina-kun."

"You're gonna kill me someday," Soshiro says frankly. He didn't actually expect you to try. You snicker and flick his forehead affectionately.

"You're the one who thought this was a good idea," you point out. "For someone who isn't interested in having kids, you sure love cumming inside."

Soshiro raises an eyebrow. "Pot. Kettle."

You laugh. "Fair point," you say. "Anyway, you just need me to pretend as your fiancée, right? I'm down. Finding another fuck buddy would be a pain at this point, and you piss off Narumi the most, so it works for me. Will I get to tour the famous Hoshina training compound?"

"Yeah, 'course," Soshiro says. There's a funny feeling sitting in his chest, but he doesn't have time to think about it as you give him a sweet kiss and loop your arms around his waist. "It'll just be for a lil while. Just 'til my family gets off my back."

You shrug. "Do you want me to record Narumi's reaction when he finds out your dick game was so good I agreed to marry you?"

Soshiro laughs. You feel good pressed against him like this, hugging him in just your panties. You usually save your physical affection for behind closed doors, so Soshiro's gotten used to soaking up as much as he can before you inevitably leave.

"Go shower," you say after a moment of aimless kisses. "I can make your coffee."

"You're the best," he mumbles into your hair. You tilt your head up to accept another careful kiss to your temple, eyelashes fluttering closed in appreciation. "I'll be quick."

"That's what you said last night, but now I'm all sore," you laugh, pushing him towards the shower. Soshiro obeys, scrubbing up and getting ready for the day. You grab your toothbrush from its spot next to his on the counter to brush your teeth, and then you wash your face with the cleanser he picked up for you the other day. You shoot him a wink through the mirror when you catch him checking out your ass, and then you skip out of the bathroom and Soshiro listens through the open door as you hum absently in his quarters. Captains, Vice Captains, and platoon leaders get the most space, so while his apartment isn't as large or as fancy as Captain Ashiro's, it's still pretty sizable. There's enough space for a small kitchenette, at least, and soon the smell of freshly brewed coffee wafts in to cut through the steam of his shower.

Soshiro pulls on his uniform, toweling halfheartedly at his hair as he finds you on his couch. You're nursing a mug with the JAKDF design flaking off — the one you always use, which is why he hasn't replaced it yet — and there's another fresh mug on the table. Soshiro sits beside you and takes a sip.

"Perfect," he says, "thanks, sweetheart."

You've dressed back in your own uniform, rumpled and sleep worn. "That'll cost three kisses," you say, smiling into your mug. Soshiro hums, arching a brow.

"The cost's gone up? What's up with that?"

You shrug demurely. "Inflation. Sorry, but rules are rules."

Soshiro is careful to grasp your mug as he leans over to kiss you, bypassing your softly puckered lips and going for your nose and cheek and forehead instead. Your lashes flutter as you open your eyes to glare at him playfully. He's hovering close enough that he can feel your breaths on his skin. "The cost for not paying up properly is five kisses."

"Ah, well, I guess I'd better pay up," he murmurs, setting your mug aside and kissing the silly smile off your lips. You giggle into the kisses, delighted and giddy, a version of you that Soshiro only sees behind closed doors.

"Your hair's still wet," you say, pulling back with a wrinkle to your nose. A few stray droplets of water slide down your cheek. Soshiro watches, mesmerized, as your tongue darts out to catch it. "C'mon, I'll help you."

You sit up and take the towel from around his neck, fluffing up his hair as he tilts his head obligingly towards you. It's nearly time for you to catch the train back, but you take your time, pressing the water out of his hair carefully.

It's a little too sweet, a little too comfortable and domestic. At the beginning of your friends-with-benefits arrangement, you never stayed the night, and you had laughed when he offered, preferring quick fucks around the base in the limited time you had together. That was about a year ago, and now you show up in the evenings, claiming his pillows and demanding he update you on the latest story he's been reading before getting down to business. Any more of this and he'll start getting ideas.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd think ya liked me."

Soshiro peeks up at you from beneath his bangs, a lopsided smirk on his lips, ready to fall back into the easy pattern of teasing and bantering with you. Just like clockwork, he catches you rolling your eyes. "I wouldn't let you or your dick anywhere near me if I didn't like you at least a little bit, Hoshina-kun."

"And 'cause I piss off your Captain," Soshiro says. You nod with just a fraction of hesitation, but that's probably because you're distracted by the towel in his hair.

"Narumi gets so grumpy," you laugh. "You'd think he's never been rejected by girls before."

"He's never been rejected by someone as pretty as you," Soshiro says absently, reaching up for the towel. His hand brushes the back of yours and you drop it abruptly, covering up the moment with a scoff as you turn quickly to grab your mug. "Want me to walk ya to your train?"

"I'm a big girl," you roll your eyes. "I'll be fine." Soshiro watches as you drain the rest of your coffee and rise to bring the mug to the sink. You pad back and lean over the back of the couch to give him a light kiss on his forehead, and then you're sliding your boots on at the genkan and waving with one hand on the door. "See you next time, fake fiancé."

His apartment is quieter, emptier without you, so Soshiro finishes up his own coffee and heads out to face the day. His muscles are pleasantly sore, relaxed in the way he always is after spending time with you, and now that he has a plan for dealing with his meddling family, it's easier to cheerfully put his new rookies through a rough training session.

You send him a message later in the day, a short video clip of you in Captain Narumi's office. Soshiro settles in his desk chair as he watches, mindful of Okonogi searching for some records in another corner of the workspace. The video clip starts off with the front facing camera, where you grin and throw up a peace sign, before it flips to show the First Division Captain hunkered down in a mess of boxes and a rumpled futon, fingers tapping rapidly at buttons as he stares at the television screen with bloodshot eyes.

"Reporting, Captain Narumi," your voice sounds cheerful and Soshiro can see Gen's head twitch towards the sound.

"I'm almost done beating this boss," Gen says hurriedly.

You hum, but it's clear you don't particularly care. "Then I guess I can tell you later about how I'm engaged to Vice Captain Hoshina."

"Hah?!" Gen's controller flies into his blanket as he scrambles up, a pathetic noise coming from the television as a Game Over flashes across the screen. "What did you just — are you recording this?"

"I promised I'd show my future husband," you say sweetly, and damn if the phrase doesn't stir something strange in Soshiro's chest. "Do you have any congratulatory words for us?"

Soshiro brings his phone closer to his face, snickering as you zoom in on Gen's rapidly contorting expressions. The Captain of the First Division seems to refocus, gaze zeroing in on your neck. "You're pulling a prank on me," Gen says. "You look like you got attacked. You two aren't even dating. What about giving me a chance?!"

The video shakes as you shrug. "What can I say? We've been together for a year now, you know. Hoshina-kun's the only one I trust to treat me right. Anyway, I've gotta tell everyone else, thanks, Captain."

The video flips to show your face again, and you give a little wave and a smile to the camera. "See you soon, love!"

It cuts off with a strangled noise from Gen's direction and the bright peal of your laughter in response. Soshiro can't help laughing too, clutching at his side as he scrolls through the rest of your messages to see screenshots of the First Division Captain's face looking like he belongs in several viral memes. And if Soshiro's ears feel a little warm at your new term of endearment for him, well, that's just for him to know.

Okonogi pops up with a stack of files and sets them on the table. "What was that, Vice Captain?"

Soshiro hums, tapping out a response to you. Before he can send it, you send a blurry photo that makes him sit up straight, eyes wide. It's clearly your panties shucked down your thighs, taken from an awkward angle, but even with the shadowy lighting he can see the way your fingers are glistening with creamy white liquid stretching down to your pussy.

Is that… is that his cum from earlier this morning?

You send him a thumbs up emoji. Mission success, you type, as if you aren't giving him a heart attack from several kilometers away.

Okonogi clears her throat as Soshiro locks his phone and rubs at his face. "Sir?"

"Ah, my fiancée just sent me a funny video."

The news spreads across the two divisions rapidly, much to Gen's loudly voiced annoyance and Soshiro's amusement. It isn't exactly a secret that you have an exceedingly friendly relationship with the Third Division's Vice Captain, but the details of your engagement are enough to fuel the communal bathhouse rumor mills for a solid few weeks. Love in the Defense Force isn't rare by any means, but most of the higher ranked members are more focused on their fighting abilities than romance, so it's big news for the Defense Force's strongest miniature kaiju combatant to be involved in something like an engagement.

Time moves differently in the Defense Force — there are daily patrols, training sessions, sporadic days off — but everything gets put on hold when a kaiju emerges in the area. Then it's destruction minimization, civilian rescues, kaiju neutralization and the aftermath of reports and reconstruction and kaiju deconstruction. The First Division gets a few more than the Third's, just by virtue of being based next to the ocean, and it feels like ages and no time at all before Soshiro sees you again.

"What's this?" you ask, shutting his office door behind you with a soft click. "Are you behind that mountain of paperwork somewhere, Hoshina-kun?"

"M'here," he grumbles, reaching up to stretch out the stiffness in his back. Nobody ever talks about how much paperwork comes with going up the ranks. "Thanks for comin' by."

You snicker as he spins to face you, letting him tug you closer by the hem of your uniform jacket. "Did you call me over to rescue you? Sorry, sir, but I have my own paperwork to die under."

Soshiro snorts and tugs you even closer, until your knees bump his. "I needed to give ya somethin'."

He digs around in his jacket pocket for a moment before producing a small box. Your eyes widen, but you don't say anything as he takes your hand and slides the ring into place. It's a simple band, safe to wear beneath combat gloves, but the gem inset is a clear, brilliant amethyst. "Unconventional color," you remark, tilting your hand in the light.

This is somehow more embarrassing than he thought it'd be, but thankfully you don't seem to notice the flush creeping up his neck. "You said once that ya liked my hair color in the light. Since it's just a favor, I figured you'd be alright with somethin' a lil different."

You meet his eyes and grin. "Oh? Is this where you promise me a real ring when we get engaged for real?"

Soshiro's heart kicks in his chest as he coughs his surprise. You laugh, leaning down to press a soft kiss to his forehead, mussing up his bangs. He blinks as you comb the strands back into place. "I dunno, you'd hafta move to Tachikawa if we got married for real."

If you're not joking — if you really do feel something else, something more —

You tilt your head, your eyes clear and sparkling as the setting sun hits your face just right. The angle of light swallows your pupils, throws your gaze into something unreadable for just a moment. "You don't think you could unseat Hasegawa-san as Vice Captain? He should probably retire soon, you know. He looks way too stressed."

"Your Captain would never take me," Soshiro scoffs. "Besides, I promised I'd always clear a path for Captain Ashiro."

You're quiet for a moment. Soshiro can feel his heartbeat in his throat. "I guess I could move here," you concede, humming. Your fingers still on his bangs. "The company's not too bad."

"Not too bad, huh?" Soshiro raises an eyebrow, skims his fingers along your waist. The air feels charged with something unspoken, something different — but he knows how to drag it back to normalcy. "I can't say much 'bout the company, but what about this desk?"

Mischief sparks in your eyes and he answers your grin with his own. That's more like it. "The last time we fucked on this desk, Okonogi-chan complained that all your paperwork was messed up afterwards," you point out. "I have a better idea."

Soshiro's eyes widen and a bolt of lust zips down to his cock as you sink to your knees, settling between his thighs with a hum. You shuffle and turn a little, positioning yourself between his chair and his desk. "What're ya doin'?"

"You still need to finish your paperwork, right? How many reports do you think you'll get through before I can make you cum down my throat?" Your eyes flash in the light and he shudders, hips jumping into your touch.

"Ya lock the door?" Soshiro huffs, shifting in his seat as you run your hands along his thighs. Fuck, his pants are getting tight. You shrug noncommittally and drag your finger along the hard bulge of his cock. "I didn't call ya over for this, y'know."

"I know," you unzip his pants and smile as he lifts his hips enough for you to yank the fabric down. His cock springs free and you lick your lips. Soshiro groans. The way you're looking at him — eyes bright, lips wet and shiny, eyelashes fluttering as if you're shy when you reach out to lick the beads of precum on the tip of his cock — should be fucking illegal. "You'd better get to work, Vice Captain."

Oh, fuck you. Soshiro knows you know exactly how to rile him up, and using his title in that tone of yours is one guaranteed way to get him that much closer to cumming. You blink up at him expectantly. "You can't be serious."

You stroke his shaft with your left hand, the cool metal of your new ring sending electricity up his spine. It warms to body heat quickly, but the added texture is enough to keep all of his senses trained on your touch. He grabs a pen as you twist your wrist on the upstroke and he nearly drops the damn thing. "You'd better get them done correctly, Soshiro."

"I hate you," Soshiro chokes out a grunt as you suddenly engulf him in your mouth. His balls tighten and he snaps his pen in half, heat and lust and lightning gathering in a maelstrom below his gut. "Fuck, you feel so good."

You swirl your tongue around the tip as you suck, hollowing your cheeks and swallowing him down without giving him any time to brace himself. The wet, warm heat of you is heaven around his cock, the tight suction of your lips sending him spiraling with every stroke. It's hot in the office — sweat beads at his hairline as you settle into a steady rhythm, the wet, sloppy sounds of you drooling all over him echoing in the quiet room. "Yeah, honey, just like that."

Your eyes widen at the new pet name but your rhythm doesn't falter — if anything, you start moving faster, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat in a way that's driving him insane. Soshiro can't even keep his eyes focused on the paper in front of him, mesmerized by the bob of your head and the gleam of your eyes beneath his desk. He cups your cheek with his free hand, something light fluttering in his chest when you lean into his touch, even as you proceed to suck his cock like your life depends on it.

Tension and heat coils in his gut. Holy fucking hell. You have one hand braced on his tense thigh, but your other hand goes to cup his balls, smearing your drooling saliva on them as he chokes at the feeling. It's overwhelming — you are overwhelming — and he tries not to hold your head in place while he fucks your mouth but your moans are so pretty and you look so hot with your mouth stuffed and —

The click of the door opening is the only warning he gets, but luckily years of honed reflexes saves the two of you as he rolls his seat forward, forcing you further beneath the desk and his cock further down your throat.

"Hah — shit!" Soshiro gasps as you dig your nails into his thigh. He throbs in your mouth. "Ah, fuckin' — sorry, Okonogi-chan, I just hit my knee on the table."

The Third Division's Operations Manager gives him a funny look, but thankfully she stays near the door. "I just came by to ask if your reports are done, sir!"

Your throat is convulsing around his cock and it's the worst thing he's ever felt in his life because if he cums right now, there's no way Okonogi will miss it. "N-not yet, sorry!"

"Well, let me know when you're done so I can add my files. Will you finish them before your fiancée gets here?" Okonogi glances around. "I thought she'd be here by now, actually."

"Nope, haven't seen her!" Soshiro's voice cracks. There's spilled ink staining one of the reports. You slowly pull off his cock, but the lightning rod of tension in his spine just coils harder. "I'll finish 'em soon!"

"Are you getting sick, Vice Captain? Please don't take this the wrong way, but you're sweating a lot and you're all… red," Okonogi says hesitantly.

"Aw, 'm fine, dear," Soshiro threads his fingers through your hair in warning when you make an aborted little sound. He coughs loudly. "I feel just peachy! In fact, I'm ready to zip through all these reports right now!"

You slowly sink down on his cock again, tongue tracing the vein as you go. Soshiro dares to shoot you a warning glare and nearly cums down your throat at the answering gleam in your eye. He's throbbing in your mouth and you don't even care. Fuck you're a menace.

"Well, if you say so," Okonogi sounds rightfully dubious, but she puts her hand back on the doorknob. "I'll check again later!"

The instant the door clicks shut after she leaves, Soshiro slumps into his seat, groaning low in his throat as you swallow him back down. It's dim beneath his desk, but he can clearly see tears gathering at the corners of your pretty eyes, and you moan as he carefully starts fucking your mouth. The tightly wound tension is incessant, a burn beneath his skin, a thrumming in his ears. You're gorgeous like this, choking on his cock and drooling, spit soaking the bottom of the seat as you blink those teary eyes up at him.

"Fuckin' hell, honey, you're gonna make me fuckin' cum," Soshiro groans. "Where d'ya want it? Down your throat? Are ya gonna swallow it all like a good fuckin' girl?"

You moan loudly at that and he huffs out a laugh, the tension so tight it feels like he's going to snap. It's the ring that does it — your hand disappears for a moment and when you bring it back into view, he catches the glint of the ring, glistening with your cum, because of course you're fucking soaked and of course you had to show him with his cock down your throat and —

Soshiro cums so hard he sees white.

There's nothing. There's sparks and light and heat blooming everywhere. Distantly he hears himself grunting a garbled version of your name, but his brain shuts down so hard he barely has the capacity to breathe as his orgasm crashes through him.

"Soshiro, Soshiro," you whisper, climbing onto his lap and pressing soft little kisses all over his neck and jaw and cheeks. Soshiro comes back to his senses slowly, panting hard as feeling returns to his fingers and legs. "Hey," you whisper, brushing his sweat soaked hair from his forehead. "Are you back?"

"You…" he breathes. His brain is still rebooting.

You giggle. "Me?"

Soshiro grips your waist to hold you steady as you hover over his cock. "Gimme a minute. I'm gonna make you squirt all over this fuckin' desk."

You laugh outright at that, dipping down to kiss him sweetly. He can taste himself on your tongue, but it doesn't bother him. "Okonogi-chan will kill you if we get the reports messy."

Soshiro runs his hands up your sides just to watch you shiver. He still feels hazy, floaty, breathless and loose. "You're stayin' the night?"

"Is that an order, Vice Captain?" you ask teasingly. Your voice sounds scraped raw. He hums, reaching for your dirty fingers. You watch with blown pupils as he licks them clean, his tongue swirling around your engagement ring and his canine tooth catching on your fingertip.

"Let's go back to my rooms so nobody'll hear ya screamin' my name."

He ends up making you squirt in the shower, eating you out messy and lewd as steam fogs up the room. You goad him into fucking you from behind against the door afterward, pushing your ass back with every heavy thrust until you both cum hard enough to warrant a bath. He washes your back and hair in the shower first, building up a lather of shampoo and twisting the strands this way and that as you laugh and complain about the water temperature, but the both of you are relaxed and pliant in the warm water of the bath afterwards.

You cajole him into one of the smaller mess halls afterward, your hair wet and dripping down your borrowed shirt as he sets two trays piled with food in front of you. It's late — way past midnight — and you're soft and giggly and clingy as you drape your legs over his lap and eat. Soshiro drops extra bits on your plate whenever he thinks you aren't paying attention, but of course you're always paying attention to him.

"Quit it," you grumble, "I'm too full!"

Soshiro snickers as you scoop the rest of your food onto his plate. "Whoa, is this what I'll get as a married man? Your leftovers?"

You roll your eyes. "Shut up, you spoiled asshole. When we're married you know you'll be doing all the cooking."

Maybe it's the late hour, but the way you say it — like it's a fact. Like it's a truth, and not a lie to appease the Hoshina clan and keep them from meddling in his life. Soshiro wonders when he started hoping.

"That's true," he says lightly. "You're just as bad as Captain Ashiro with kitchen knives."

"Don't let your family find out, or they'll tell you to find a new wife," you joke. Soshiro snorts, but it's quiet in the empty mess hall. You prop your chin on your hand and watch him chase around the last grains of rice with his chopsticks. "Tell me about your family? Is there anything I should be prepared for?"

"Well, ya know I've got an older brother," Soshiro says. It feels a little strange, mentioning Soichiro after all these years of (literal) radio silence. "He'll be busy captaining the Sixth, so we shouldn't be runnin' into him at the house. My dad's still an instructor, and he'll probably wanna know 'bout your combat levels. My ma…"

"Uh oh," you murmur. Soshiro sighs and takes your hand.

"My ma's always wanted grandkids." He watches as your face goes blank. "Y'know I ain't the type. I've got my hands full with my lil' fledglings already."

"Well," you squeeze his hand and offer a tiny smile, "at least this is fake. Your mom will get her grandkids eventually, even though it won't be from me."

You're quiet and distant on the short walk back to his rooms, but maybe it's just the late hour. Soshiro doesn't know how to break the strange awkwardness that's settling between the two of you — but you seem lost in thought, kissing him goodnight absently and quickly burrowing your face into his neck as if you don't want him to look too closely at your expression.

It's weird. You seem back to normal in the morning light, making his coffee and hugging him from behind while he brushes his teeth, but there's a strange distance in your gaze and your smile drops unnaturally when you think he isn't paying attention. There isn't much Soshiro can do about it, though — you go back to the First Division and your texts are… typical. You agree to take some time off to visit the Hoshina family home together and Soshiro just about wears down the floor of his office with his pacing.

"Vice Captain, are you sure you don't need a break?" Okonogi asks. "Please don't take this the wrong way, but you seem agitated."

Soshiro flops back into his seat and stares at the ink stain he left behind the last time the two of you were in his office together. The ruined report was luckily one of his own, so he just printed another copy, but unfortunately he hasn't been able to scrub the ink out of the desk. "Nothing to worry 'bout, Okonogi dear."

"Are you worried about your family visit? I'm sure it'll be fine, sir — your fiancée is perfect for you," Okonogi says. She adjusts her glasses. "But if you're concerned, you should talk to her. She'd want to know."

Soshiro doesn't think you want to know what's really going through his head — you'd probably run away. Casual. Friends with benefits. You were the one who brought it up, after years of working together whenever your Divisions teamed up, after plenty of teasing and friendly competitions and sharing meals sitting slightly apart from the rest of your officers. You always caught his eye, but of course he'd never assume you were interested, not when you had all those other options (including Captain Narumi) — so it had been a welcome surprise when you confessed that you thought he was hot. That you thought about him at night. That maybe having a friends with benefits arrangement could be good for both of you to blow off steam without any mess.

Soshiro still remembers your first time together — the first and only time you slept together in the First Division. Your rooms were smaller than his, but he hadn't had much of a chance to explore, too busy learning how to elicit those sounds from your lips that haunted his dreams for months afterwards. It was awkward at first, with bumped noses and self conscious laughter, but you had forged ahead as if it would be your only chance and it was so good.

It's always been good with you — good and easy. This weird… distance? It's unsettling. Soshiro can tell something is up, but you message him normally and there's nothing for him to hang this niggling feeling on.

He meets you at the train station a few days later and you smile at him like he's made your day. "Should I be calling you Soshiro-kun for this trip?" you ask, offering a canned coffee from the vending machine. It's early, and of course he hadn't had time to make his own morning coffee, so the can is a welcome weight in his hand.

"Yeah, but don't do it too often or I'll drag ya into a hotel on our way down," Soshiro says, trying not to stare. He pops open the can and takes a sip, eyes dragging down your form as you laugh. It's rare to see you in something other than your Defense Force uniform, his borrowed clothes, or naked — and you've shown up to the train station in a cute skirt and blouse outfit, looking fresh and adorable and not at all like you take down kaiju on a regular basis. Something about the dissonance stirs up a surge of protectiveness in Soshiro, though you'd probably offer to kick his ass if he voices this thought aloud.

"We're meeting your parents, Soshiro-kun," you scold, "keep it in your pants."

But there's a teasing glint in your eye and Soshiro snorts, reaching out to snag your wrist, pulling you close so he can kiss the laugh out of your mouth. The strange unsettled feeling is nudged to the back of his mind as you kiss him back.

The shinkansen ride is a few hours long, but you've packed bentos and seem perfectly content to gaze out the window at the flashing scenery as he reads a book. You doze off a few times, settling into his side as naturally as breathing, and Soshiro keeps as still as possible so you can be comfortable leaning against him. You later confess that the bentos were made from bits and pieces you had begged from the officers on chef duty early this morning and Soshiro teases you about making your bentos in the future.

"You can barely even function without your coffee in the morning, Hoshina-kun, how're you gonna make us bentos?" You're so pretty when you're laughing like this — lighthearted and sweet with your sparkly eyes. Soshiro knows he's staring openly now, but you don't seem to mind, leaning into his space to steal the last bite of tamagoyaki while he's distracted.

"I'm a man of many talents," Soshiro declares, just to watch you snort into your royal milk tea can. "But 'course I'll just make 'em the night before."

"That's good planning," you nod sagely. "I knew I picked a good future husband."

The automated announcements overhead remind the two of you that your stop is coming up, and Soshiro gathers up the trash and your bags in preparation to offboard. Both of you packed light, used to moving quickly through cities on long deployments, and it's nothing for him to sling both bags over his shoulder. You follow him off the shinkansen and through the station, always close enough to touch but careful to maintain a little bit of distance in case someone sees.

It's lucky you do, because as soon as the two of you step out into the balmy southern air, someone calls out his name.

Soshiro feels his shoulders stiffen and you shoot him a mildly alarmed look. "Well, well, well, if it ain't my lil bro!"

What the hell.

"And ya really brought someone! Ma's gonna be over the moon!" Soichiro says brightly. Soshiro watches with dread as his older brother approaches and promptly offers his hand for you to shake. You take it, amusement in the edges of your polite smile. "I'm Hoshina Soichiro, this guy's older brother and Captain of the Sixth Division."

You introduce yourself, shooting Soshiro a wry glance as you add, "and I know who you are, sir. My captain speaks highly of you."

"Oho! You're a member of the Defense Force? Are ya with the Third?" Soichiro asks. If you've noticed that Soichiro and Soshiro haven't actually spoken to each other yet, you don't mention it.

"No, sir. I'm with the First Division," you reply. "Thank you for coming to meet us at the station. We weren't expecting anyone."

"Aw, well, I wanted ta catch up with my lil bro," Soichiro says. Soshiro's mouth twists a little at that, but he faces his older brother and offers him a tiny smile. It makes his face hurt. "It's been a long time since you've been home."

"Things are busy in the Third and I'm further away than you are," Soshiro says. Thankfully his voice stays steady. You step a little closer to him, the back of your hand brushing the back of his, and he takes a deep, fortifying breath. "Is everythin' good at home?"

"Things are peachy," Soichiro says, waving them along as he begins to walk. "Dad's just finished up teachin' a new batch of hopefuls for the Force, and ma's been settin' me up with omiai every time I come home. Is that what you're here for, lil bro?"

"They just told me ta come by," Soshiro admits. "But I've got some news for 'em, anyway."

Soichiro glances back at the two of you walking so closely together and hums. "Yeah, I figured. When ma said you'd be bringin' a guest, I knew I had ta come see it for myself first. It ain't right that ya got such a cute girlfriend, Soshiro."

Soshiro can feel his ears burning, but you just shoot him a grin and a raised eyebrow. Well, if you're fishing for compliments… "She is a cutie pie," he says lightly. "But she's smart, too, and funny as hell. She's the best thing that's ever happened to me."

He watches you blush prettily and avoid his gaze for the rest of the ride towards the Hoshina compound. Years and years of kaiju fighting and developing the Hoshina clan techniques means the family is pretty well off — Soshiro doesn't flaunt the family's wealth, determined as he is to prove his own worth — but it can't be denied that he grew up well taken care of and pampered in spite of the intense training he put himself through growing up.

The grounds sprawl in a valley nestled between densely forested hills. The buildings are traditional and the yards are all swept clean, tastefully interspersed with rock gardens and ponds full of glimmering koi fish. The sharp clack of practice swords echo in the balmy air as a clan member leads students through exercises, though Soshiro doesn't spot anyone out of the ordinary as Soichiro leads them into the main house.

He pauses before the sliding door that leads to where his parents will be waiting. This is fake — the two of you just need to get through this weekend, and then you can go back to your divisions and pretend none of this happened. His family won't expect any updates for a long time, and by then Soshiro can figure out if you… if you'd be willing to marry him for real. Maybe, by then, he'll finally be good enough for you. So why is his heart pounding so loudly in his chest?

You stop as well, looking wide eyed at him as you shift your elegantly wrapped gift in your trembling hands. "Soshiro?"

"I promise they won't bite," he murmurs, ducking close as Soichiro reaches for the door. He doesn't know if his older brother can hear, but it doesn't really matter as long as you feel better about this meeting. "I'm the one choosin' you, remember."

You blink up at him, close enough for a kiss, your eyes searching his for something before you take a deep breath and nod. "Right. You're the only biter in the family."

He snorts before he can stop himself, feeling hot around the neck and ears as he straightens up. Jumping into the middle of a daikaiju battle would probably be easier than this — than facing his parents with news of his engagement and listening to them tell him to quit the Defense Force. His older brother lets out a quiet cough before he slides the door open. The three of you enter the lion's den.

Soshiro has nothing to worry about. Hours later finds the two of you settling into the room you'll be using during your stay, futon laid out as you sit beside it, your legs tucked to the side with your skirt splayed out. The sliding door leading to the walkway is open, exposing the two of you to a small side yard featuring a koi fish pond, but otherwise the guest room is out of the way of the main buildings. Soshiro won't be staying in the same room as you, even if his parents did approve of the engagement, but there's still some time before lights out and he wants to be with you. You let out a deep sigh and reach for his hand.

"That went well?" you ask carefully. Soshiro squeezes your hand. Watching you interact with his parents, who he loves in spite of the sense of duty that permeates everything they do, and with his older brother, who he knows is so much better than him at everything — seeing you cheerfully and earnestly bringing up Soshiro's own good qualities whenever you could did a lot to ease an unknown soreness in his heart.

"You were amazin'," he says honestly. You blush.

"I just wanted them to know how amazing you are," you say. "You're the coolest Vice Captain in the Defense Force, you know?"

"Just a cool Vice Captain?" Soshiro asks, glancing over at you. He smiles a little to himself as you roll your eyes.

"Did you also want me to tell them you're an incredible lover?"

Soshiro laughs out loud at that, releasing your hand so that he can pull you into his lap. You settle there easily, grinning, looping your arms around his neck as he leans up to kiss you. "We can keep that to ourselves," he says. His heart feels light. "I didn't realize you were payin' that much attention to me. Stroke a guy's ego like that and he might propose for real."

A wall comes up in the depths of your eyes and he falters as he leans in to kiss you, but you close the distance before he can ask what's wrong. You taste sweet, like the daifuku mochi you shared with his ma earlier, and you kiss him like you never want to stop. Soshiro groans into your mouth as you lick into his, your tongue sliding slick against his teeth. You don't pull away as you kiss, merely tugging his lip between your teeth, sucking lightly and tilting your head for better access. You kiss him hungrily, messily, the kind of desperate kissing you usually resort to after weeks without seeing each other, and all of it sends heat lancing through his body and straight to his cock.

You're so fucking soft in his arms — delicate and strong and warm, barely resisting as he crushes you to his chest, wrinkling your blouse and slipping a hand below the waistband of your skirt. Soshiro can feel the rabbit-fast beat of your heart against his, hears the soft gasp you let out when he nicks your lip. A breeze floats in from the wide open door, ruffling his hair, and he suddenly remembers where you are.

"Soshiro…" you breathe, chasing his lips as he pulls back with all the self control he can muster. "Soshiro, c'mere."

Fuck, the way you sound —

"Quit teasin' me," Soshiro grumbles, hands heavy on your hips. He leans back and glares halfheartedly at you, though it's nearly impossible when your lips are spit slick and kiss swollen and your eyes are hazy with want. "Someone could walk by at any moment."

You blink. "Not my fault you're irresistible." You rock your hips slightly in his lap and smirk when he groans at the friction against his cock. "Are you going to jerk off in your childhood bedroom?"

"You'd like that," Soshiro notes breathlessly. "Are ya gonna touch yourself tonight? Here, on our guest futon? Are ya gonna think of me?"

"I always think of you," you confess easily. Soshiro's heart thunks painfully in his chest. You tilt your head and kiss the tip of his nose. "It'll be weird sleeping in this guest room tonight when you're so close by."

"I'll cuddle ya lots when we get back to the base," Soshiro promises. "Whatever ya want."

"Okay, I'll hold you to it," you say, kissing him sweetly. "I guess you should get out of here before we really give something for your family to talk about."

Soshiro laughs quietly and skims his lips along the smooth column of your neck. "You'll hafta let go of me if ya want me to leave."

You slide off his lap with a pout, waving him off with a small smile that drops as soon as he rounds the corner. Soshiro keeps walking, however, because whatever's going on with you is probably something that can wait until you get back to the base. He doesn't want to air out any issues where his family can hear.

After a long day of train travel and the excruciating anxiety of presenting you and your engagement to his family, Soshiro wants nothing more than to sleep. But as he approaches his room, he groans to himself. The light is on, and the shadowy figure waiting for him inside is unfortunately familiar.

"It's late," Soshiro says, sliding open the door and facing his older brother. "Can't this wait 'til tomorrow?"

"Aw, but I've gotta go back to my base tomorrow," Soichiro says. He holds out a bokken and tilts his head towards the yard outside, which is swept clear of rocks and leaves. "Wanna go a round? Or are ya still my lil Wimpshiro?"

The old nickname makes Soshiro frown. He takes the bokken and nods toward the yard. "After you, Bonehead bro."

They don't have any protective gear, but neither of them are really looking to hurt the other. Soshiro feels his muscles tense with familiarity and falls into the rhythm of his childhood — the clack and clatter of blades meeting and pushing apart, the shuffle of feet on hard packed dirt and the low swoosh as the wooden practice sword narrowly misses his hair. He can tell his older brother is holding back, but it doesn't feel disrespectful. Or like he's underestimating him. Unlike in childhood, when Soshiro knew bone deep that he could reach his brother with just a little bit more, now it feels like a mutual agreement not to wear themselves out.

"You surpassed me a long time ago, Soshiro."

The words make him jerk back in surprise. "Don't make fun of me," he snaps. "You aren't even goin' all out."

Soichiro sticks his tongue out and flicks his long braid over his shoulder. "You ain't either, lil Soshiro. I know you hate my friggin' guts, but I'm proud to be your older bro, y'know?"

Soshiro frowns. Keeps himself in a 'ready' stance. "Where's this comin' from?"

"I was listenin' to your fiancée gushin' 'bout your good qualities," Soichiro says, leaping forward with a strike that Soshiro catches with his own blade. "And I was thinkin' it's a damn shame she knows ya better than I do."

Soshiro knocks the next strike aside and falls into a flurry of practiced blows, meeting Soichiro's wooden blade at every twist and turn. "She's my fiancée."

"And she's a good one," Soichiro nods. "Makes sense that she's picked you outta everyone."

But it's fake — it's not a real engagement — you haven't picked him, not for real —

"If ya stay here any longer she might change her mind. Good thing you're goin' back to the Sixth."

It comes out before he has a chance to swallow it down, and Soichiro's next strike misses him by miles. "What're ya talkin' about, ya dope? She'd never pick me."

Soshiro sighs and rubs at the bridge of his nose. Being around his older brother and facing all these memories again is throwing him off. He walked past one of the training buildings earlier and his father's voice had leapt into his mind unbidden — Soichiro is the Hoshina family's ultimate incarnation — and while he knows it's always been out of love and worry for his safety, he can't stop the bitterness from stinging in his throat whenever he remembers his family telling him to give up on his dreams of joining the Defense Force.

And it seems it's all combining into one awful swirl of insecurity that isn't even fair to you. Soshiro knows you better than to think you'd suddenly choose his older brother over him. Even if Soshiro is used to being a reject… he's never been rejected by you.

"Anyway, I'm lookin' forward to the wedding," Soichiro says, oblivious to Soshiro's inner turmoil. "Ten bucks says you'll cry during the sake sharing ceremony."

"Shaddup, ya bonehead," Soshiro laughs in spite of himself, startled out of his thoughts. "I ain't gonna cry."

"You look at her like she's the whole world," Soichiro says. He slides into a neutral position, his wooden blade pointing downwards. "When she births your first child, you're gonna sob like a baby."

The words are cold water thrown over his shoulders. "We ain't havin' kids."

"Oh?" Soichiro flicks his braid back over his shoulder again. "That's fine. I'll let ma know she can rest easy just dealin' with mine."

"Ma… won't mind?" Soshiro asks.

"Ma just wants ya to visit more often," his older brother says, "and she likes your fiancée. Said she's cute as a button and clearly adores you, which is all ma wants for us boys."

"You're gonna let her keep pullin' ya into omiai?" Soshiro asks, dropping out of his fighting stance as well.

"Not everyone's lucky enough to find a love like yours, lil bro," Soichiro shrugs. "Let your older brother show some dignity for the clan, alright?"

Soichiro finally leaves and Soshiro sits on the deck, bokken resting across his lap. The traditional buildings creak as they settle, a familiar sound as he looks out into the deepening twilight.

One more day. One more day in his family home, and then he'll be back on a train to Tokyo with you by his side. Tomorrow the plan is to give you the tour you wanted, and then catch the shinkansen after lunch. Maybe Soshiro can borrow you for the rest of the evening, too — you can always catch the next morning train to Ariake.

"Soshiro."

"Yeah, honey?"

You bite your lip before you reply, which is Soshiro's first sign that something is up. You acted normally during the morning tour of his family home, walking close enough to brush shoulders with him and smiling without a care in the world, and you snuck in a few kisses on the train ride back to Tokyo. But now you're fiddling with the sleeve of your pretty dress and barely looking him in the eye. The train station is emptying out around you.

"I think we shouldn't see each other for a while."

Soshiro's heart clenches in his chest. This is it, then. You've finally gotten tired of him — you've figured out that you could do better, find someone better —

"I love you, but I can't… I can't give you kids. I know that's what your family expects, and it isn't right to get their hopes up like this. I like them, Soshiro. They love you so much."

Soshiro's brain feels fuzzy.

"Wait. What did you just say?"

You frown up at him. Your eyes are sparkling with unshed tears and he reaches up to thumb at your cheek, brushing along the soft skin there as he stares down at you.

"My ma doesn't care if I have kids," Soshiro says quietly. His heart is beating so loudly he can barely hear his own voice. "They just want me to visit more."

Your cheek warms under his touch. "So I've been worrying about that this whole time for nothing?"

"I only found out last night, talkin' to my big bro," Soshiro says. "Do ya really love me?"

"You're an idiot," you breathe. You reach up to grab his hand and turn to walk down the platform, tugging him along. "You're coming with me. We're going to my place this time."

Soshiro lets you drag him onto the train to Ariake, lets you hold his hand the entire time, his rough palms scraping against yours as you squeeze his fingers. The two of you make it onto Ariake base unscathed and unnoticed. You lock your room door behind you.

"Look at this," you demand, booting up your computer and pulling up a word document that fills the whole screen. Soshiro leans over the desk to read it, eyes widening with every word.

"This is…"

"My request for a transfer," you nod, stepping back and crossing your arms over your chest. "I wrote it a long time ago — before your proposal, actually. I've been in love with you for ages, Soshiro. I just didn't know if you…"

"I love you."

You blink. Your nose wrinkles as you pout. It's the cutest thing he's ever seen. "I had hopes, when you proposed, even though I knew it was fake, but you just… kept making me feel all mixed up."

"I thought I was lucky ya kept choosin' me, but my luck was gonna run out someday," Soshiro says, his voice cracking on the words. "You could choose anyone."

You roll your eyes and the tension pops like a bubble. "Why would I choose anyone else when I love you, Soshiro?"

Soshiro laughs, feeling suddenly weightless and warm and fond. He reaches for you, smiling wide when you step into his embrace easily. Your arms wrap around his waist and he relaxes into your hold, nudging your temple with his nose. "Will ya marry me for real, then?"

"Of course I will, you dummy," you bury your face into his chest. Your voice comes out muffled. "But you owe me a million cuddles first."

"Wow, inflation's really hittin' hard," Soshiro murmurs, laughing when you roll your eyes and kiss him. It starts off as a sweet kiss until you fist the back of his shirt and a bolt of heat sweeps through him. "Can I start payin' up now?"

"Yeah," you breathe, tugging him over to your bed and pulling you both down onto it. Soshiro huffs as he lands on top of you, the sweet scent of you puffing up from your blankets and pillows. "Kiss me, Soshiro."

The way you gasp his name does nothing to ease the lust clouding his veins, but Soshiro has enough presence of mind to obey, kissing you deeply as he pins you to your bed. He keeps one arm by your shoulder to prop himself up, but his other hand is free to roam your body, squeezing your tits and digging into the curve of your waist, dragging the silky fabric of your dress up to your hips. You're tugging at his clothes desperately, popping open buttons and untucking his shirt, but you keep kissing him all the while, as if you can't bear to part with his lips even for a moment.

"You're so gorgeous like this," Soshiro mutters, groaning when you palm his cock over his unbuckled pants. He throbs concerningly in your grip and he huffs a laugh into your neck. "I'm — I'm fuckin' sensitive, honey, hold on —"

"Get inside me quick, then," you murmur, shimmying out of your panties and dragging your dress off. Your bra goes flying off as well, leaving you naked beneath him like the finest feast in the world.

Soshiro pulls off his own clothes but doesn't enter you right away, determined to worship you the way you deserve when you're laid out like this for him. You gasp as he sucks and nips at your neck, arching into his touch as one large hand grips your breast. You squirm when he trails down to flick his tongue against your neglected nipple, kneading the flesh with his hand and switching sides just to suck hard at the other bud. "S-Soshiro you jerk—"

He laughs fondly as he kisses down your tummy, biting affectionately at your hip bone just to feel you twitch. His hands smooth over your thighs before he spreads them apart, scooting down the bed to settle between your legs. "You're so wet already," he says reverently, "is this all for me?"

"Please, Soshiro — ah!"

Soshiro slides two fingers into your wet, slippery heat without preamble, groaning as your walls clamp down on him. He sucks at the inner meat of your thigh as you rock your hips, scissoring his fingers to stretch you out and pressing into the spongy bit of your walls that makes you gush even more down his wrist. He laves attention to your other thigh as well, littering love bites all along your sensitive skin but avoiding where you want him most.

"Are ya close?" he asks, watching intently as you fuck yourself on his fingers. He adds another just to hear you whine, the sound going straight to his cock as his balls tighten. You look so pretty like this, desperate and hot, squirming on the bed as you chase your pleasure with his help.

You catch his gaze and he groans, scrambling up to kiss you hungrily. You moan into his mouth, tongue swiping along his own as your hands leave the bedsheets to dig into his shoulders. "Soshiro, please —"

"My gorgeous, perfect fuckin' girl," Soshiro grunts, removing his fingers from your tight hot cunt and replacing them with the head of his cock. He's leaking at the tip, throbbing and heavy, and you whine as he catches at your clit. "I'm gonna marry ya," he promises, moving his hips carefully as he enters you slowly.

"I love you," you whisper, blinking starry eyes at him as he bottoms out with a moan. Unfair tactics — you've got his heart rate flying off the charts, his entire body warm and tense with adoration and desire as he slowly pulls out just to bully his way back inside you.

"I love you, too," Soshiro says, fucking into you carefully so that he's nudging that spot inside you that makes you clench harder around him. "I'm gonna — gonna make ya happy. And proud and — I'm gonna keep ya safe."

"Soshiro, you're gonna make me cum," you gasp, giggling a little deliriously as your nails dig into his back. You wrap your legs around his hips to pull him closer, and something about that makes his body run white hot. "F-fuck, Soshiro — I'm — !"

He cums first, his cock kicking and throbbing inside you as you fall headfirst into your orgasm, bodies shuddering and releasing in unison. Soshiro buries his face in your neck, biting down as he groans, relief crashing through his body as he floods your insides with white.

"I fuckin' love you," Soshiro says, peppering your face with kisses as you pant breathlessly. You giggle and run your fingers through his hair, the sweaty purple strands sticking up as you mess with it.

"You're an idiot if you think I'll ever stop loving you," you say softly. Soshiro meets your fond gaze and smiles.

"First ya call me an idiot, then a dummy and a jerk," he says, "if I didn't know any better, I'd say ya need some new nicknames for your fiancé."

"Hmm, I'll think about it," you laugh.

The two of you stay holed up in your room for the rest of the day, eating the snacks you have stashed around and talking and dreaming and making plans for the future. Soshiro's heart does a traitorous little flutter when you ask him to make love to you a few more times — because it is love, and it's still dirty and hot and you make him cum so hard he goes boneless, but there's love there, as always.

Soshiro wakes up the next morning with a handful of something soft.

"Soshiro… I'll kick you off this bed."

He snickers into the nape of your neck and removes his hand from your breast after giving it a gentle squeeze. You turn to face him, shoving your bare legs against his, and reach to grab his hand. The morning light is seeping in through your blinds slowly, but it still catches on the pretty purple gem and the shiny silver of your engagement ring as you hold your entwined hands up.

"G'mornin', fiancée," Soshiro murmurs. You drop his hand in favor of running your fingers through his hair.

"Good morning, my love."

[garricks4thwingqueen]

My New Pillow: Dain Aetos X Reader

Prompt: Your My New pillow. Credit for this prompt goes to @deity-prompts

This fic is apart of the #FourthWingBirthdayBash !  

Dain Aetos × Rebellion Garrick's younger sister reader. 

Word Count 1469

    Being a child of the rebellion was never easy. You've managed to endure your first year at Basgiath but not without lack of training from your older brother Garrick, relieving of tension via friends with benefits style from someone your older brother would definitely not approve of or any of your friends for that matter. Frankly you shouldn't even be attracted to the man but yet you couldn't help but not feel head over heels in love with him. Yet you and Dain Aetos remained friends with benefits for the most obvious of reasons. 

   After war games this year and after the outbreak at Basgiath you find yourself at home in Aretia with your brother, Xaden and the other rebellion children along with 100s of other cadets that choose to come to your side after the chaos ensued. Even Dain had come along, although you were pretty sure it was only for your sake. After how war games ended this year Dain was basically enemy number one of your group. 

  You had never been more thankful that you had your own room in Riorson House due to your father's work with Xaden's father. Both you and Garrick had often found Riorson House more your home then your actual home. You currently found yourself on the verge of mixed emotions. You were mostly conflicted between your love for Dain still and every God damned fucking thing happening. Especially losing Liam. Even though your group majority blamed Dain you didn't. You knew he only knew one side of the story until you told him the story your group grew up with. You told him about war games and how everything went down including the Wyvern and the Venin; including how you held your best friend in your arms as he was dying and finally including the scream of Deigh that you'll never forget. Dain apologized for his father's actions that affected the rebellion group during war games; he felt awful and you knew he did. He had even been taking the shit from the others like a champ. Needless to say, your anxiety has been on the rise lately.

   You sniffled and wiped your falling tears as you got up and answered the soft knock on your door and gave Dain a half assed smile and a barely whispered “hey,” as you stepped out of the doorway so he could come in. You took in his shirtless and sweaty frame and noticed a few new scratches on his face. “You missed dinner.” he said soothingly, wrapping you into a hug. “I wasn't hungry and those are new.”  You stroked his scratched cheek  as you shrugged your shoulders as Dain led you both to your bed. “I wanted to check on you earlier but I figured I should at least wait until your brother went to bed and training with a few gryphon riders.” “You don't want to die yet, do you?” You smirked with a yawn. With that you earned a chuckle from Dain and that had quickly become one of your favorite sounds this year “I guess it is late. I should go.” He said going to stand. “No wait.” “Y/N?” “Please stay. I haven't been sleeping the greatest since I’ve been home.” you admitted softly. With a nod of Dain's head he took his shirt off and stripped to his boxers and climbed back into bed with you. 

    You snuggled into him and laid your head onto his chest as he pulled you close. This was a slightly new feeling for the both of you. Usually you just fucked in your room back at basgiath, Dain never staying long for fear of being caught from the both of you. But now you didn't care and honestly you're done with being just friends with benefits with one of the people you cared most about. You bury yourself into his chest as you feel him wrap his strong arms around you and feel your fingers intertwined together as he holds your hand. “Dain,” you yawn softly. “Mmmm?” You take your gambled risk and say the damned thought that's been on your mind hoping he feels the same way or else you're shit out of a friend. “I love you.” It's silent for a minute but then he grips you tighter and your greeted with the best sound you've ever heard “I love you too Y/N.” 

    “I can get very used to this.” You mumbled into his chest. Dain chuckled again; “Oh I know you can. I'll just have to deal with your brother first.” “Don't worry about him. I can handle Garrick. He just wants me to be happy.” “And you want to know one thing that's making me very happy right now?” I yawned. “Me?” “Well yeah, but I mean a very specific part of you.”You smirked as you bury yourself into his chest more and trace soft circles on his skin. “A specific part?” Dain smirked back “Yeah my head is super comfy right now. In fact I think your chest is way more comfortable than any pillow I've slept on ever. In fact it's my new favorite pillow.” You smirked with a yawn and kissed Dain softly as he chuckled. And gods did laying on his chest just amplify your favorite sound. “My chest mmmm? Those muscles didn't get there themselves. But they'll accept being your new favorite pillow. I just want my girl safe, happy and loved and she can have me however she likes.” Dain said softly and kissed your forehead.

    “Forever? No matter what we are going to get tossed at us and it's going to be a lot of shit. You know that right?” “I know.” He soothed and stroked his fingers through your hair. “Whether it be from my brother or Xaden and not to mention this impending doomed war shit.” “And we will be together through it all, together; I love you. You know we'll have to deal with my father to” He sighed and started tracing your relic which was the largest relic of the females in your group. Almost as large as your brother's. “I think my father is in for a good one next time I see him.” You sighed into his chest burying your face further, if that was possible. “Just be careful please. You don't need to get hurt because of me.” “I can handle him.” Dain said softly and started to pepper kisses down your neck. “Mmm.” Was your only response as you just took in the moment of being with each other. A moment like this you two had never had before but now you couldn't imagine falling asleep any other way from now on. 

   You woke up to your alarm going off at 5:30 with a groan, but smiled as you felt Dain’s arms tighten around you once more. “Good Morning my sweet girl.” He rasped and kissed your forehead. “Good Morning my Great Dain.” You smirked and kissed him softly. “Great Dain, is that supposed to be a pun?” He smirked. “Maybe.” You teased and ran your finger through his hair as there was a knock at your door. You groaned “Imogen.” Into Dain's chest. He chuckled softly as you yelled “Just a minute Immi and I'll be out.” Impatient as ever Imogen opened your door which you must have forgotten to lock. “Right a minute.” She smirked, taking in the sight before her. She opened her mouth to speak. “Don't start. I'll explain on our run please don't”. You sighed. “Fine but hurry up. Violet is annoying this morning.” 

  “I forgot about your runs.” Dain smirked. “Shut up. I don't wanna move.” You groaned, burying yourself into him. “Well I certainly don't want to start this off being any more on Imogen's bad side. So up and at ‘em for you.” He smirked, sitting you both up. “Not before a morning kiss.” You smiled and ran his fingers through his hair.  He chuckled and compiled by kissing you deeply. You sighed as you started to get dressed. “I'll see you at breakfast, lover.” You sighed and kissed him once more. “I'll see you later my princess.”  

 You both left your room; Dain heading to the showers and you heading to the back yard of Riorson House to meet Imogen, Violet and Rhiannon who started joining you yesterday. Imogen stood with her arms crossed and a stern unreadable look on her face. You loved Immi and she had always been like a sister to you, that you never had but her bad side was always something you tried to avoid. “Please don't Imogen. Can we talk about it later and alone?” “Fine.” She huffed and added “But don't accept me or everyone else to be remotely happy about this.”

Authors Note: I kind of left this as an open ending for a potential part two! Thoughts?

[cafecourage]

Ooo requests are open?? :D for a writing request, may I ask for platonic snuggles scenario in your Isekai AU with Y/N and each of the boys? Or you can just pick your favorite(s) boy(s) if you’d prefer! 💜

I am going to have to pick my favorite boy’s/ two call outs, only because I have another cuddle adjacent request so technically I will have to write the rest later. XD Sorry if these aren’t that long I am trying to get back to writing for LU again.

Sky:

The night comes slowly some days as you travel. The slower the day the harder it is. Since when time is dragging on your body tends to tire out sooner then later. The whole group understands that its not their first rodeo. However it was yours. Sky was always a tune to your issues unfortunately and has been keeping by your side in case of emergency. You don’t think you where that close to falling over but apparently he thought otherwise.

It was a blessing or a curse.

Sky was a teddy bear but also a momma bird. So as soon as the camp location was established he drags you to away from the commotion. Unceremoniously he sits down taking his sailcloth off in the same action. “Come on.” Was all he said when he gestures down to his side.

“I am not that tired.” You mumbled but its not really like you wanted to refuse this opportunity. Sky is warm and squishy. It’s not like you cuddle with him to often. “Oof.” You plop yourself next to him and claimed his left side. “Your trapped now, your not allowed to leave.” You said with a yawn.

“I thought you said you weren’t that tired.” Sky teased as he drapes the sailcloth on the two of you like a blanket. You grumbled and smack his shoulder which only made him laugh.

Sky’s snuggles are the definition of hiding under the covers from a cold day. Warm and fuzzy.

Warriors:

You frown as this was getting ridiculous, there was a pattern you had notice recently with Warriors. He just wouldn’t wake anyone up until third shift. It’s not really something that would be brought up normally if you hadn’t signed up for second shift multiple times to get some late night internal monologuing done. You slowly get up from your spot where you were journaling and came closer to the fire. Not even asking you take part of the Captains scarf and wrap it around your neck as you lean into him. “Excuse you.” He said not amused by your shenanigans. “Shouldn’t you be sleeping?”

“Says the one that doesn’t wake up the next watch.” You fire back opening up your journal ones more. There was obviously something bothering him for him to not want to sleep the past few days. It’s not really good to force something like this out of a person and it doesn’t seem like he was going to talk easy especially this soon in your journey with the boys.

There wasn’t much he could argue with that given the circumstances “doesn’t mean you need to lose sleep,” was his argument. “Don’t suffer for my sake.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes at him “I’m not. I can’t sleep anyway.” There was an attempt to shut down the argument. “I’ll go to sleep when I can.” You then offered.

After some beats of silence and plotting in your braincell to wake up Twilight for his shift, the Captain puts his arm around you “fine.” He brings you closer a bit. Shifting your body you use his shoulder as your headrest. “What are you writing anyway?” He turns the topic to something else. Something less heavy of an topic. And with a smile you started to use this shift to explain to him about the history of Hyrule with some info missing of course.

Honestly? Snuggling with Warriors is rare at the start, but he is protective and sturdy. The Captain is the definition of safety.

Twilight:

Between Wolfie and the man, choosing when to give snuggles is a hard pick to make. There has been many times where Wolfie ends up being a giant heated plushie that you ensnare with your arms and legs. Truly a curse of being a furnace. But hey, you benefit from it.

Wolf snuggles tend to be rare as Twilight can’t really stay long as the longer his person was away the more the other links start to noticed. Which was why he tended to be the blanket or teddy bear replacement.

Cuddling with Twilight, the man, the myth, the not actually legend? Heaven. Absolutely heavnly as because he was a human furnace he mainly ends up as a mattress for you and wild. Playing with your hair braiding it slowly as he attempts to sleep himself as he was trapped. Sometimes he would switch to Wild as to make sure both of you get equal amount of attention from the resident older brother.

He was a magnet to the other boys as well. That always ends up with a cuddle pile since Twilight has this weird case of giving hugs and cuddles that are secure. It’s not in the protective way but more calming. Like he washed it away any issues that were in your mind to begin with.

Thats just who Twilight is though.

He might be annoying with nagging you to be more careful in this adventure, but he really is the definition of home.

Time:

You love the chain. Each Link was amazing and courageous in the own ways. But they are also very, very, chaotic sometimes. Which normally would be fun and fine, if your social battery was on the same wavelength. At the end of lunch there was little for you to do since it was a free day. The boy’s were training to let out some energy that has been built up.

There was a goal in your head though. You were aiming to do one thing the whole day and that was to sleep, and there was one man for that job.

You find Time sitting by the boy’s that had signed up to fight. It didn’t look like he was going to join them today. So perfect for your plans.

“Time.”

Was your only warning before you literally fall on the oldest link’s back. You needed a battery recharge and a hug. Both would be good please. You wanted both. You could feel the sigh from your laying spot as he has to awkwardly shift position to drag you on his lap. As soon as he has you it was Koala time. Time didn’t even blink or acknowledge your presence as he kept watch of the spars in front of him. Slowly thought his hand finds it’s way up to your hair. Not braiding it but just playing with it out of habit.

Time cuddles are the ultimate recharge, it was similar to Twilights but on a bigger scale. Safe probably more softer as its easier to hide from the world in Time’s arms. Plus the warmth of sun and tuning out the clashing of the wooden swords its no wonder you instantly fall asleep.

[kira-broflovski]

Mysterious Injuries || Kenny McCormick x Reader

note: characters are in high school + mild descriptions of injuries on kenny

It was a night just like any other. You had finally finished a long evening of studying for a test next week, your chores were done, and you had a soothing bath to just finally relax.

Your parents were both at a night shift, so you texted them to let them know your little sister had been put to bed already.

You were about to go to sleep yourself when a phone call from your close friend and crush, Kenny, lit up your phone. Of course, you answered it straight away.

"Y/N?" He sounded oddly relieved that you picked up.

"Kenny? Are you okay?" His unusually short breath started to worry you. "Why are you calling so late?"

He didn't answer your question, instead, he asked if he could come over to which you said yes. Then, he hung up with a quick mumble of thanks. What was that about?

You made sure your little sister was still asleep before going downstairs and waiting for Kenny to arrive. What was going on?

The loud doorbell rung throughout the house, almost making you jump out your own skin, and you dashed to the front door, knowing it was the very person you were waiting on.

He stood there, his jacket barely holding onto his shoulders while the vest that covered his torso was barely white anymore. He was covered in various dark shades, one of which you recognised to be a deep red.

You looked up to meet his eyes, only to note further injuries: he had a black eye and his lips were split, spilling blood down his chin and neck; along with various cuts and dents all over his body.

"What the fuck happened to you?" You felt your heart drop when the realisation set in that he was hurt.

Carefully, you brought him inside and upstairs to the bathroom where you sat him down on the edge of the bathtub. He was so quick that the smell of your body spray still lingered.

"Sorry for the late notice," Kenny looked down as if he was embarrassed. "I didn't know where else to go."

"Don't be sorry, Kenny, it's okay." Without thinking, you bent down to kiss him on the forehead before getting all the medical supplies out, which also meant you didn't see the furious blush that formed on his face.

"What happened to you?" You asked once more. He looked uncomfortable as he avoided your gaze, so you decided to drop it and assumed something happened at home again. Especially after him saying he didn't know where else to go.

"Let me know if it hurts too much, but this disinfectant is going to sting."

He considered telling you everything. His parents wouldn't cause this much harm to him, if anything he did it himself by choosing to fight crime as his superhero persona, Mysterion, the persona you had no idea was really him.

He wanted to tell you so bad because he felt like he was lying to you, and he didn't want to lie to the one person that took care of him so tenderly, and the one friend that paid attention to little Karen.

Well, his sister wasn't that little anymore, but he still wanted to look out for her. She often came over for playdates with your little sister, and Kenny had never been so thankful for meeting you.

Your little sister adored Kenny as well, so days with the four of you were always so wholesome.

However, he didn't want to worry the most important girls in his life, so he kept this double life to himself. He stayed silent.

He has never felt like this before. He used to just let himself die so carelessly because he knew he would come back, but he now realised how depressing that is.

Getting taken care of doesn't seem so bad if you're the one tending to him.

The way you gently touched him in case you accidentally hurt him made his heart and mind race. You stood him up when you were done, but he quickly pulled you into a hug as tears started to pool in his eyes.

You didn't question the embrace, you simply returned the hug and rubbed his back.

"Thank you." He was trying so hard not to cry on you.

"It's okay, Kenny. I'm here for you." Your words made the poor, touch-starved boy sob on your shoulder and pull you in tighter.

"I'm so sorry, Y/N. I'm so fucking sorry."

You pulled away slightly and moved a hand up to wipe away his tears, while staring directly into your understanding eyes.

"You have nothing to apologise for," you reassured him and put your arm back around him. "We can go watch something in my room, would you like that?" Your gentle voice made his knees go weak.

He didn't have the energy to even talk anymore, so he just nodded with a watery smile.

The two of you put on some random comedic movie as you cuddled in your warm bed. Kenny had drifted off, and his head somehow ended up in your lap so you decided to slowly play with his hair as he lulled further into a deep sleep.

He felt another gentle kiss on his head, and the last thing he heard before truly falling asleep was you.

"Sleep well, Kenny."

[ghostofskywalker]

Hello! can I request something with Tech and a tooka?

here it is!! i hope you enjoy :)

words: 692

clone troopers masterlist

If you had asked yourself last week the question “how long would it take for Tech to notice that you had adopted another tooka if you didn’t tell him?” you probably would have said an hour, maybe even less. But here you were, two days later and counting, and he hadn’t apparently figured it out yet. 

To his credit, you did somehow manage to adopt a tooka that was the spitting image of the one you already had, except for one tiny splotch of white on one of his feet, so to anyone who wasn’t paying attention, they probably would have seemed like the same animal.

Also to Tech’s credit, the two tookas had apparently made an pact to never be in the same room of your home at the same time. They often cuddled together when it was just you in the house, but now that Tech was visiting they always seemed to be apart from one another. 

You were holding a cup of caf as you settled on the couch next to him, having already placed a mug for him on the end table next to where he working. The newest member of your tooka family (named Pilfer, for his ability to covertly sneak food from your plate without you even realizing it), hopped up on your lap and laid down across it, purring softly as he settled into his new comfortable sleeping spot. 

“I think your tooka has finally gotten used to me,” Tech said. At first when he started spending more time at your house between missions, Midnight (the older of the two) kept her distance whenever he would enter a room. You had seen her get more comfortable with Tech over the time that you’d been together, but you had a feeling that his data was now slightly skewed because he didn’t realize you had a new resident in your home. 

Instead of bursting his bubble right away you decided to play along for a little while. “That’s good,” you said. 

“Yes, she has been seeking me out more often for petting lately. She has attempted to sneak bites of my food sometimes though, which seems out of character for her.” 

That only confirmed your suspicions, that it was in fact your new tooka that had taken a shine to Tech, and eventually you were going to have to tell him, but you didn’t really want to do it right now. “That’s good. I’m glad Midnight is finally getting used to you.” 

At the sound of her name, your other tooka padded into the room, and she meowed quietly to draw your attention. Tech looked up from what he was doing on his datapad, his eyes widening as he tried to process the sight. 

He looked at Midnight, who blinked her large eyes up at him. Then he looked over at you, who had a sleeping Pilfer on your lap, and his mouth dropped open. “Have you always had two tookas?” 

You could have said yes, letting believe that he hadn’t noticed for the entire time he had known you, but you weren’t that mean. “No, but I’ve had Pilfer here for a few months now. He’s more friendly around people than Midnight is.”

Tech was silent for a few moments. “I suppose it makes sense why ‘Midnight’ only responded to her name about one third of time,” he said. “You are right, he is much more sociable, and he certainly seems to live up to his name.” 

The tooka in your lap shifted slightly but didn’t wake from his slumber, even as Tech reached over and pet him. “Next time you get a new tooka,” he said. “Might I suggest choosing one that doesn’t look exactly like the two you already have?” 

“Now why would I do that? Especially when I can trick people into thinking I only have one pet instead of multiple.” 

Tech just shook his head, but you could see the playful smile on his face. Maybe later, before he had to leave for his next mission, you could take him to the shelter and see about adding another member to your family.

[obsessedtomone]

Unravel Yourself Before Me ⛓️ Chapter 10 - The Talk▸Shigaraki x femReader

Chapter Summary:

◤ There’s a certain look in his angry eyes now, one of a quiet desperation.

Desperation for what? 

You grit your teeth.

Confusion and annoyance simultaneously cross your face, because you realize you couldn’t reliably get a proper read on him whatsoever, it being especially frustrating when he always seemed to know what made you tick instead. ◢ Setting: University AU - No quirks (unless degenerate personalities count) Tags: Slow burn, Eventual Smut, Unhealthy/Toxic Relationships, Humiliation, Mentally Ill Reader, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to ??? Warning: Dead Dove – Do Not Eat | Mind the tags TW: Implied Su/Self H, Dubcon, Reader has a super shitty past like actually, Shigaraki Tomura is his own warning.

AO3 Crosspost | Chain Divider by firefly-graphics

Chapters: One • Two • Three • Four • Five • Six • Seven • Eight • Nine • Ten(ko) • Eleven

Chapter 10 - The Talk

Loud scraping noise is echoing throughout the room, as you drag a chair across the class’ marble floors, sitting in the back as usual. 

There’s contemplation written all across your features while you’re staring outside the window, looking at the common cold season gray skies. You yawn, stretching your joints, massaging the juncture between your shoulder and your neck, preparing for another day to be over.

It’s a long way from over, because it’s literally morning. 

You were up so early today, that you ended up being the only one in class, feeling actually peaceful in the silence for once, something that rarely ever happened to you.

Being late to class wasn’t ever only about sleeping longer, even though that in itself played a huge part. Being late was also about feeling reassured. About hearing the heaps of people replace the never-ending noise in your fucking head. 

You disliked crowds and you fucking hated people, but you despised how lonely you feel in the sea of your suffocating pointless thoughts the most.

And as if you being here before everyone else wasn’t weird enough for you, you also opted to leave your laptop inside your bag, not taking it out like you normally would upon immediately seating yourself. You didn’t check your phone either, choosing to simply stare at the depressingly gray view, wondering if Shigaraki was going to show up today after fucking ghosting your ass last week.

He’d left you (to worry) to wonder all week as to whether or not he’d gotten caught, gotten in trouble. Maybe he wasn’t as invincible as you thought he’d be after all and pulling off a large-scale doxxing operation wasn’t as easy as he made it seem, even for the big bad Shigaraki Tomura.

Not like you had a chance to ask him though, when the last three messages you’d sent were shamelessly left on read.

So instead of that, you’d been wondering about him. So much so, your brain began spotting not-Shigarakis everywhere you fucking went lately.

It’s weird—so incredibly weird, how this character seemed to progressively monopolize your everyday attention ever since you’ve crossed each other’s paths that day. 

It’s also weird how you’ve started to… feel things. For a while now. You’re certain it was his fault for this. For these feelings that you thought you weren’t capable of feeling anymore. Anger, sadness, betrayal and maybe… Maybe something more.

Something that’s been forcefully buried deep, deep down, so you wouldn’t ever have to feel anymore. Something really fucking dangerous.

It never fails to irritate you, thinking about him like this, and you end up doing it often. Your mind starts to wander and you eventually start asking questions that you’re not sure you wanted answers to. Not only that, but no video game, show or stupid fucking playlist could distract you from your thoughts as well as they used to anymore.

Now why the fuck would that be?

In addition to spending your precious free time sinking down the bottomless pit of your mental conundrum, your best friend has also been pestering you lately, asking you to join them to a college party of all fucking things.

It’s the birthday party of one of their hook-ups (you either couldn’t remember who the fuck it was or you didn’t bother to ask), a loose connection or a ‘friend’, as Taylor would sometimes refer to those assholes.

You fucking hate parties, but the way your friend looked at you with their annoying puppy eyes wasn’t lost on you, especially since they’re always going above and beyond to help you out and be by your side whenever you need them to, no questions asked.

(A fat fucking lie, they’d always ask you so many questions.)

Therefore you ended up saying… yes. To both yours and their own surprise. Which by extension also means you have to go shopping for new ‘party-adequate’ clothes today, partly because you don’t wanna embarrass your friend and also because it’s been a while since you’d worn something nice. You don’t, usually, because who the fuck are you trying to impress?

For Taylor however—once again—you’d agreed.

The bell rings, bringing your awareness back to the present as numerous students pour in one-by-one, finding their seats. 

It doesn’t take long to see a familiar black hooded figure, trudging its way to you all the way from the front entrance. The closer he gets with every step, the faster your heart threatens to beat out of your chest, but you don’t understand your feelings well enough to be able to tell why that is.

“Hey,” he greets you first in a rough, quiet voice and avoids your gaze in a way he’s never done to you before. 

You stare.

The man who casually obliterated half the careers in your college like it was nothing. All of it, just for you. The white fucking knight from hell.

He slides down into the seat next to yours, dropping his bag to the side of his chair and still not bothering to look your way. 

It immediately strikes you as odd for him to avoid you, when usually he did nothing but his absolute fucking best to capitalize on your attention, whichever way he thought he could get it. 

Not today, apparently.

“Hey… you good?” 

The words slip out of your mouth before you could realize their implication.

Shigaraki finally turns his head to you, looking a bit taken aback as he does, lips pressed into a thin line and his posture being tense. He doesn’t give you a verbal reply, but instead slightly nods his head once. Which in turn pushes you to pry further.

“Sooo, you left me on read,” you mention casually in a lilt, resting your arm on the desk and supporting your chin with your hand. 

His strikingly red eyes widen and quickly narrow again, gaze scrutinizing your features and scanning for something he couldn’t seem to find. 

You wait patiently, but it doesn’t take long for his lips to part.

“I was uh… busy,” he mutters, hand lifting to scratch at his neck and drawing your attention to the many fresh-looking red angry lines that he doesn’t seem to have trouble deepening.

“With what?” you huff in amusement, elbow sliding along as you lean in nonchalantly, reaching your free hand to put a stop to his absent-minded self-harm. “Did you get in trouble after all?”

Your touch wasn’t exactly tender, but you don’t swat his hand away or grimace this time and he—He notices. Tomura blinks, wondering if you really did hit your head since the last time he’s seen you.

“Huh?”

You quirk a brow and there’s a ghost of a smile on your lips. “Are you deaf? I’m asking if you got in trouble after I texted you last time.”

“No?” he scoffs, looking at the hand that’s still holding his.

Your hand.

It’s warm.

And incredibly soft.

A rosy color begins to spread over his pale cheeks, but you only roll your eyes and frown, thinking he’s spacing out and maybe doesn’t really want to talk to you about the details of his crimes. You don’t know why, but there’s the beginnings of irritation building up within you.

“Forget it,” you end up grumbling, clicking your tongue and releasing his hold—but he’s as quick as a cat to grab you by your wrist instead, immediately hitting you with a bout of deja vu and sending you back in time.

There’s a certain look in his angry eyes now, one of a quiet desperation.

Desperation for what? 

You grit your teeth.

Confusion and annoyance simultaneously cross your face, because you realize you couldn’t reliably get a proper read on him whatsoever, it being especially frustrating when he always seemed to know what made you tick instead.

Shigaraki lowers your wrist, slowly and deliberately sliding his cold fingers against your palm, before intertwining them with yours experimentally. And for some unknown reason—both to you and to him—you don’t make a move to pull back this time.

The thought you had while looking into his eyes made you gasp softly.

“Shigaraki…” you whisper, eyes lowering to stare at his thin masculine fingers, holding your hand like you were something he could break. 

His eyes follow your gaze and he finally breathes, tightening his grip on your hand just barely. “Yeah?”

“What… are we doing?” Again?

The moment your eyes met his again, you could physically feel the world spinning on its own axis. He looked less vulnerable now as he looked unsure, while your brain was trying and failing to piece something together. Something important that was missing. 

You're bewitched by a beautiful set of red eyes.

The professor walks in greeting everyone, but Tomura couldn’t care less. It takes him all two seconds to make up his mind and come to a decision.

With a little bit of force, he pulls you out of your chair and drags you on your way out of the classroom. You surprisingly let him without much protest, the back of his dark colored hoodie taking up most of your vision and the shock of unruly white hair bouncing softly in his mission to casually fucking kidnap you from your shared computer science class.

A few curious looks are thrown your way, including that of the fucking professor himself, all of them sparking the need for you to reconsider, but something about Shigaraki’s weird determination and your own curiosity compel you to follow.

His spell slightly wears off the moment you step out of the class, panic filling you as bills of valuables you can’t afford to replace are now left behind.

“Wait! We left our bags in class!” You squeeze his hand slightly, shaking it to get his attention.

“Shut up,” Shigaraki snaps at you unexpectedly, the anger in his voice making your body stiffen.

“What? Where are we going? Hey! Stop!” You finally start to resist, but his grip on you tightens exponentially.

Great fucking question. He doesn’t know where he’s taking you either. This isn’t part of any grand scheme of his, he only knows he needs you alone.

It’s not like you could suddenly read minds, however.

“I said shut UP! Just follow me,” he barks at you again, raising his strained voice and wishing for you to just fucking listen to him for once.

Your lips purse at his shitty reaction. You are not his fucking doormat.

“Or what?” Your tone is challenging and you start putting actual effort into slowing him down, even if it means hurting yourself in his tight grip.

“What?” Shigaraki snaps his head in your direction and finally stops in his tracks, dismayed.

“Or fucking what, I asked!” You try shaking your hand free, but he wouldn’t let you, prompting anger and mockery to quickly weave itself in your voice, “What ya gonna do this time, crazy?”

In the span of a moment, you watch his expression go from irritation to something darker.

Shigaraki finally releases your wrist and you pull away immediately, stepping back while he stalks forward, regret flowing through your veins over whatever stupid fucking idea compelled you to follow him earlier. 

Your back hits the wall in the familiar way it always happens whenever he’s in your proximity. Yeah, definitely deja vu.

“This is not what I wanted to happen—ugh, GODDAMNIT!” he shouts at no one but still ends up making you jump.

Shigaraki briefly runs a hand across his face in obvious frustration, rubbing at his eyes when he finally seems to gather himself and his intense gaze falls back to your face. You can almost feel the weight of his emotions bearing down on you.

The air you breathe becomes charged with an electrifying tension as his haunting red eyes pierce through your soul and an unsettling chill creeps over your skin.

The totality of his attention is now narrowed to yourself and yourself only.

This is the look that he was missing minutes ago.

The trademark Shigaraki look.

He closes the space and cages you in between his arms in a way you now know it’s on purpose, forcing you to focus on him and only him, the way all he could fucking think of lately was you, you, you.

“We’re in the hallway. Again.” You roll your eyes in faux confidence, puffing in his face and furrowing a brow as your voice slightly quivers. “Do you have an exhibitionism kink?”

He’s so close you can literally feel the tickle of his breaths against your face. Your rib lightens him up in seconds and he cracks an amused smile, tight expression slightly softening.

“Do you really wanna find out?”

“Shigaraki,” you warn, glaring at him sharply.

Fuck, does he hate it when you say his name like that, cold and detached, much rather preferring you saying it differently. Adoringly. Dripping with lust, worshiping him like the god he’s sure he is—calling him by his first name…

“What,” he grumbles in a gravelly tone, mouth slowly inching closer to yours, aching for a taste.

You hesitate, really hesitate for a split second, but catch yourself in time before you lose yourself again. Before you lose yourself to him.

“I don’t want to fucking kiss you!” You glance down at his lips, barely a hair away from touching yours. 

He stiffens immediately, rough hands at the sides of your head clenching into two tight fists and his jaw locks.

Tomura wants you. He wants you. He wants you!

“That’s a lie,” he finally whispers, blood-red eyes boring into you the way you’ve come to accept as familiar, searching for confirmation or anything to prove that he’s right, that you’re in fact lying, because he’s this close to fucking losing control again in front of you. To take you by force and undo all his recent efforts to make you like him.

Maybe you wouldn’t be compliant at first, but he’d take you whichever way he can get you, if it meant you would be fucking stuck with him. You’d understand him too one day, surely—

“No! It’s not!” Your brows shoot down, interrupting his dangerous train of thought. “First, explain to me why you thought it was fine to do all that shit to me, to harass me!”

You place your hands on his chest, pushing him back softly. He growls in response, but doesn’t let you create any distance, doesn’t budge a single inch from his rightful spot, towering over you.

It takes a moment for you to process it, but then you realize you aren’t alone. There are footsteps around you, random passerby students walking down the hallway and wearing disgusted looks on their faces. 

You cringe inwardly, growing embarrassed at world record speeds. Shigaraki is pinning you to the wall, and you can only imagine how it must look to anyone witnessing this.

“Y-You know what—” You look around nervously, suddenly painfully aware of your surroundings, before returning your gaze to him and trying to reason, “Let’s not do this here.”

There’s hope inside you. Hope that maybe he’d have a shred of shame, or empathy, or something and understand that this is not okay, but unfortunately he couldn’t care less about your discomfort or how this made either of you look. He never did. Not when you almost got him off last time, not when he humiliated you in front of everyone, not now.

Instead, his mind is more focused on running through all the scenarios, all the possible things he could say to you right now, in order to win you over to his side, but for once, he falls short.

What the fuck could he even tell you? You heard rumors about him, but you probably don’t truly understand their weight. You wouldn’t understand how obsessively he wants to fuck you over, to ruin your life, to destroy your fucking ego, until the only person in the universe left to want you as you’d be—broken and irreparable—would be him. Just him

Because he could. Because no one ever takes away his broken toys.

But he decided a while ago to try and go through the pacifist run for now, in hope you’d become willingly compliant. It’d be much easier if you’d just submit to him, rather than risk you taking the forever exit and never getting to see you again. No, he couldn’t have that.

Tomura can’t tell the difference between romantic feelings and obsession. Between cherishing something or wanting to destroy it before it turns to weakness. But that’s not something you’d ever understand.

So instead, he takes the opportunity to scan over your flustered face, waiting for the correct dialogue option to magically pop up and save this glitchy run, which unfortunately for him, would never happen.

“I fucking like you,” Shigaraki confesses to you bluntly, spitting out the words out like they pain him to say and giving you pause.

You watch him startled as you are, surprise turning into horror as you wait for him to correct himself. Your confusion turns to anger, and the anger makes you seethe.

“So fucking what?” You finally snap out of it, raising your voice and elbowing him away as hard as you could. The ground is swallowing you in. Your nose crinkles in disgust and you go ahead and shout at him, unrestrained. “You’re so fucking twisted if you think that this is how you treat the person you have feelings for—or–or that it would somehow make up for all the fucked up shit you’ve done!”

Hurt flashes across his face and he snarls at you.

“You—!”

“Yes,” Shigaraki hisses, a terrifying smile breaking on his face, the visible pain morphing into something akin to despair in a matter of seconds. “Yes, I’m so, so incredibly fucked up. You’re right on the fucking money.” He chuckles dryly, taking a step back. “What, did you expect a bouquet of flowers and a heartfelt apology from me? Grow the fuck up.”

Wide-eyed and brows creased, you watch him in true disbelief, but before you can retaliate, Shigaraki speaks again first.

“You’re fucking strange! I don’t fucking know how to deal with you. There’s nothing special about you, yet—”

You? You’re strange? You?!

“I can’t get you out of my fucking mind. Every damn day, I obsess with thoughts of… thoughts of you! You’re so fucking annoying. You ignore me, you rile me up, despise me and then you’re friendly again. You act worried about me, ask me if I’m fucking okay! Me! You’re asking ME!” His panicked voice cracks and all previous semblances of composure slip away from him, baring his teeth at you and looking absolutely unhinged.

Nobody asks Shigaraki Tomura if he’s doing fucking okay.

His confession leaves you speechless, but not for long. You lunge forward, grabbing the hem of his sweatshirt with both of your hands and pull him close.

And he bends for you. He always does.

“What gives you the right to have feelings for me, Shigaraki?” Your expression turns sour as you speak. “Do you have any idea—do you even fucking know what I went through, to get here? You don’t know shit. A pathetic little sociopath that’s never learned how to be human. Who uses other people’s fucked up little secrets to own them. For just a little bit of fun.”

Weeks of pent-up anger all slip out of you at once.

“You don’t know anything about who I am, who I was, yet you play with my life and—and act like I’m your fucking toy!” you inhale sharply, “You then manipulate my only fucking friend to get what you want. You come to my house. You pretend you're a good boy. For how long, hm?” You tilt your head and raise your pinched eyebrows in feigned innocence. “How long until you snap again and do it all over again? Until I do something that displeases your Majesty and you quadruple down to make sure I really kill myself this time?” The last of the words tumble out of your mouth and you feel your throat closing, causing you to choke up.

Tomura presses his lips into a tight line, shoulders slumping. He couldn’t let you slip through his fingers like this. He’d picked the wrong option. He’d fucked up.

Shit, shit, shit.

“I told you, I won’t fucking—”

“Do that again? Why?” You can't help but break out into a bout of manic little giggles. “What’s different this time? What’s changed? You want me to believe that just ‘cos your twisted little heart feels something for once—that you’ve changed? You’re a different person?” Your grip on his hoodie tightens, knuckles turning white while all you were seeing was red. 

“You mean it?” You pout at him. “You’ll leave me the fuck alone if I reject your feelings right fucking now? That you’ll never talk to me if I fucking ask you to? Pinky—fucking—promise?!”

Shigaraki’s body tenses up and you feel it.

He couldn’t deny and he couldn’t promise you any of that. You’ve seen straight through his nature and he’d underestimated you. Should’ve known better, judging by all the things he’d dug up about you. Watching your disgusting joke of an ex abuse you and then him using that against you, posting the media for everybody to see, only to bring you down under his foot where he wanted you to belong.

No, you’re absolutely right about him.

Still, he hates the impact your words have on him. He hates the way you make him feel.

“Hm? Not even going to go ahead and deny it? Maybe lie a little?” You release him with a sardonic smile plastered onto your face. “Fucking thought so.”

You resist the urge to pat him down, the way he did to you after the presentation months ago. 

Instead, you click your tongue and turn your back on him—but the snake slithers his long arms around your waist and presses you close to him. You feel his heart thumping violently against your back, erratic breathing against your neck.

“Let go,” you warn carefully.

“No,” Shigaraki grunts. “No, you’re coming with me and we’re going to fucking fix this.”

Alarms go off in your head and your fingers desperately twist the fabric of his black sleeves, working to pry his hands away from you. 

“Fucking—Fucking let go of me Shigaraki. Now!” Your voice cracks as you struggle uselessly. “I’m fucking done talking to you. I don’t want to see your stupid fucking face ever again!”

And if there’s one thing you hate more than obsessive psycho-assholes, it’s obsessive psycho-assholes with the strength and ability to ignore you saying no to them, physically taking your autonomy away. 

There’s no one on sight who can help you, and that thought angers you even more until—

“Please…” he whispers so quietly you almost don’t catch it. And then all of the sudden, his hold on you is gone.

You thought either hell froze over or you’ve finally lost it, because if you heard correctly, Shigaraki is fucking begging you. You, of all people.

“...What?” You turn your head, mouth ajar to stare at the most horrified you’ve ever seen him be. 

He doesn’t repeat himself.

Instead, he backs away, eyes wide like those of a wounded animal, turning around and storming off on squeaking converse. Leaving you in the dust for once.

Several moments pass and you’re still standing there, looking in the direction Shigaraki had disappeared, trying to wrap your head around the entire fucking situation.

You eventually turn around, different emotions overwhelming your senses as you begin stomping your way back to the classroom to retrieve your belongings. 

Anger. Confusion. Shame.

When the hell did your life turn into a fucking soap opera all over again?

─────────

It's getting progressively cold lately, you notice. A temperature that the thin fabric of your cheap clothes wouldn’t be able to shield you from, especially not today.

You’re waiting outside of the campus gates for Taylor, for you to finally go shopping together, hoping that will cheer you up, distract you from the earlier… incident.

“Jeez, babe. Did a truck run you over on the way out?” Taylor quips upon finding your gloomy form leaned against the fence.

“Fuck off with that and let’s go, I’m freezing.”

They eye you suspiciously for a moment, until a knowing smirk forms on their stupid fucking face.

“Anyway, so—I pretty much bombed my history exam today, but get this! Did you know that the professor…”

It’s probably been like five minutes total since entering the mall’s forever 21—maybe ten if you’re really generous, and it makes you roll your fucking eyes because you’ve already somehow ended up losing your friend to the sea of endless clothing articles.

Navigating around on your own like the big girl you are, you manage to actually find a cute band shirt and some black jeans you could add to your lackluster wardrobe. Taylor should be proud.

You’re in the middle of wondering what exactly your friend meant by ‘looking good’ for a party you didn’t care for, when you accidentally bump into something—or someone.

“Ah shit, my bad—” you quickly say, as you turn around and your eyes meet a pair of beautiful turquoise ones.

It stuns you and your gaze lingers a second longer than it’s appropriate, making you look away one moment too late by the time you realized you were staring. 

You feel your face going up in flames, blushing like a fucking teenager.

The person you accidentally bumped into, is an incredibly handsome dude, black ink tattoos covering most of his features—and daddy issues—burnt jet black dyed hair and the darkest, hottest eye-bags you’ve ever seen anyone have before. Not to mention the nose, ears and lips are all pierced. Multiple times.

Guy looks like he came straight out of a rock band performance and you feel like you’re about to be taken to the back stage.

He watches you intently, an amused smile gracing his lips.

“Like what you see, sweetheart?” the for-sure playboy says with an impossibly husky voice, and you fucking go beet-red at the sound of it. At the prospect of him giving you attention.

You’re not used to being around men so fucking out of your league, let alone have them be hitting on you.

You used to fantasize that you weren’t the type to fall for them so easily. That you’re not like the others.

That makes you a) incredibly lucky for it to happen to you and b) incredibly wrong and delusional about what kind of person you really are. 

It took you twenty something years to get to where you finally realized it, but as it turns out, you are absolutely the fucking type to fall for charismatic sweet talk and attention—especially when said attention came from goth fuckboys with black hair and gorgeously blue eyes.

“F-Fuck off, dude,” you bark with no bite, feeling especially embarrassed at him catching you off-guard like this.

“That’s the plan doll, but you’re kind of blocking the way.” He chuckles and your eyes widen for a second before you begrudgingly step out of his way.

You really hope this would be the last of your awkward interaction with him, but the universe must fucking hate you, because instead of fucking off like he promised he would, his lips part away again to speak.

“So that’s what you’re into, huh?” The guy attempts to make small talk, pointing at the band shirt in your arms.

“Huh? Ah. Sure. Used to be,” you answer mechanically, looking anywhere you could but him.

“That so? What are ya into now, then?”

God, the fucking awkwardness could kill you.

Why is he engaging with you when there’s ‘sweethearts’ all over this fucking store?! Is he the type to hit on literally anybody? You couldn’t help but feel like he was one hundred percent toying with you.

“Honestly n-none of your business. I’d like to go find my friend now, so—bye.” You turn to walk away, to find your fucking friend and escape this suffocating situation, but life was never fucking easy. The usual.

“Yo, stop trying to wriggle away from me. At least tell me what your name is.” He puts a warm hand on your shoulder and you immediately tense up. “Mine’s—”

“Dabiiiiiii!” 

You hear your friend squeal in the distance and turn your head to them, feeling dumbfounded.

“Tay?” His smile widens.

Oh, for fuck’s sake!

“You guys know each other?!” asks your friend, before wrapping their arms around ‘Dabi’ and giving him a good squeeze. He ‘pats’ their back, fingers pressing and feeling around their body in what you could only describe as incredibly lewd, and you scowl.

“We were getting there.” He gives you a lazy smile and then fucking winks.

“Who’s this guy?” You ignore him, glaring at your friend and throwing a thumb backwards at this ‘Dabi’ dude.

“I’m right next to you, angel,” he replies, leaning in too fucking close for your comfort, hot and minty breath making contact with your neck.

You shoot both of them a bewildered look, step backwards and cover the spot with on your neck with a hand like he just shot hot flames against it.

“Dabi! Don’t pick on her! She’s my little wallflower!” Taylor says obnoxiously, using a sickly sweet tone you’ve only seen them use on people they wanna sleep with.

Both of them treat you like the fucking middle child, standing in the way between them and the bedroom and making you hate your friend for it. Neither seem to mind though, too busy gazing deeply into each other’s eyes like you’ve seen in those shitty movies Taylor forces you to watch.

It’s fucking gross and you’re gearing up to leave.

“That so? She’s fuckin’ cute. Think she’ll give me her number?” The stranger nudges you before belatedly breaking eye contact with your friend and looks at you. “Mm, what do you say, doll?”

“You know what?” You give Taylor a tense grin. “Fuck this, fuck yourselves, and then text me when you’re done.” 

After flipping them off and throwing the clothes you picked up earlier back on the pile, you quickly storm out of the cursed store.

“Sheesh, a lively one, huh?” His lazy grin spreads. “Was only fuckin’ around. You think she’s really mad at me?”

“Mmm, don’t tease her too much, Dabi. She’s been through a lot lately.” Taylor cups his cheek fondly.

“Yeah? Reminds me of a… friend I have, actually. I’d bet a heavy stack they’d get along well,” he murmurs absentmindedly, finally turning his attention to them fully and leaning in for a kiss.

Taylor reciprocates, flicking their tongue against his lower lip almost immediately and silently asking for access. He could only groan, more than happy to oblige.

You end up walking around the mall aimlessly by your lonesome and god were you pissed at your friend for ditching your shopping date for some random hot guy, after they begged you to go with them for so long.

The mall is relatively full. Maybe even too full for your taste, it being afternoon and having a trillion families and couples running around in the capitalistic maze as you still fester in your anger. 

Various scents such as perfume, baked goods and stall foods enter your nostrils. You already feel yourself wanting to go home and ditch your friend the way they fucking ditched you.

But you decide to suck it up when you see the nearest GameStop on the second level, only a couple of feet away if you went up the escalator. At least that seems like a way to kill some time while your friend was getting some. That, and you grabbing something to eat after you get bored.

There’s a few other nerds browsing the aisles when you enter, quietly conversing with each other as you casually start looking around, passing by ugly funko-pops and not really looking to buy anything. The speakers are playing ads of newly released games with over-the-top sound effects, and you scoff asking yourself if they think that’s what’s gonna make you buy anything from them.

Even if they somehow did work on you, you’d have to go home and buy them digitally. There’s no point in buying anything physical, seeing as you never know when you’ll have to move again. It’d be nice to start collections, however. To be able to keep them, but you know better than to trust your life not to fuck you over again.

In the future, when you’ve secured a well paying job and an apartment that you could call your forever home, you’ll make sure to fill it in with whatever your heart fucking desires. 

But for now, you decide to lose yourself in looking at all the displayed products, positively overwhelmed by colors and shapes of your nostalgia. You read the titles you used to play, pick up merch of your favorite franchise and just quietly live in the moment, nursing the forgotten child inside you.

You glance at the cashier who looked ‘making-less-than-minimum-wage’ bored, scrolling mindlessly on her phone as some bozo complained about broken headphones but didn’t bother to bring the receipt. 

Rolling your eyes, you keep walking ahead, picking and prodding at various items on the shelves. You’re planning to go to one of the cafes close by after this and wait for your friend there, while working on some of your assignments.

Until you hear your name spoken out loud by some guy behind you.

If this was a cartoon (and the comedic timings certainly make it seem like one), there would be a cross-popping vein appearing on your fucking forehead right about now. Why couldn’t anyone leave you the fuck alone today? Was that too much to fucking ask for? 

You turn around to get a look at whatever asshole ended up recognizing you and are met with a pair of familiar brown eyes. 

“...Hey,” you say, swallowing emptily. 

This officially marks the third fucking embarrassing thing that happened to you today. You honestly thought you’d never see this guy again. No, more like, you banked on it, which is also the reason you never ended up shooting him a message. 

After all that’s happened to you in the almost two months that since passed, it now feels a little fucking silly to not have texted him this entire time.

Not for a lack of trying, though. You were often debating with yourself to just fucking do it, but opted against it every time, as you felt the grace period was long over and he probably wouldn’t have appreciated your half-assed attention anyway.

It takes you around a split second of looking at his face to recognize the simple truth. You were dead fucking wrong.

“H-Hi!” He beams at you.

“Hey… It’s uh—it’s been a while.” 

You scratch the back of your neck and look at his appearance properly, now that it's not obstructed by dim colorful arcade lighting in the middle of the night.

A thick white beanie crowns his loose, messy, long purple hair, and the graphic tee he wears—a superhero anime you’d only caught glimpses of online—is clearly one or two sizes too big for him. Your almost-friend is really buff actually, short sleeves revealing endless weeks of training. 

But what catches your attention are the reading glasses that you’re positive he didn’t wear the first time you’ve encountered him—or did he?—and subsequently the smattering of acne scars that lay down uneven patterns of rugged skin, making you wonder just how painful that must’ve been to deal with.

Despite all that, it’s the reluctant shy demeanor contrasting his intimidating rough features that made you recognize him straight away.

Your almost-friend. The arcade guy.

“What brings you here?” you ask, turning your attention to a cute mug in your hands, feeling the cool ceramic surfaces and pondering if you should make an exception to your no-buying-shit rule just this once.

“I—uhmm. I actually came here with a friend, but w-we split up earlier. I wanted to see if they finally had a copy of Elden Ring here. It’s been sold out for like a freaking week now, I can’t find it anywhere! I’ve been on a Souls marathon for the past three months, waiting for the release, but all the stupid bots scalped every copy off the goddamn internet!” The guy rolls his eyes, folding his hands before he catches himself and looks at you nervously, rubbing his right arm and suddenly feeling self-conscious. “A-Ah, my bad! I went off talking too much again. W-What about you? Why are you here?”

“Uhh, same thing, actually. My friend—” You frown, remembering why the two of you ended up separating. “We also kinda… split.”

“Really? That’s crazy!” He bounces on his feet a little more excitedly than he should’ve. You find him as cute now as he was back then, despite not having bothered to remember his name.

Oh shit. What is his name, actually? You’d saved him in your contacts under ‘arcade guy’.

“So, umm. There’s uhh—there’s an electronics store one floor below. W-Would you like to try the new VR-Headset with me? Pretty sure they offer a round of Payday 2 for free if we ask,” arcade guy proposes shyly, gauging your reaction and threading between taking his word back or letting you answer.

He definitely sees hesitation in your face, but you just put the mug back in its place and then smile at him.

“Sure, fuck it. Why not?”

“Fuck—! There’s only one bag left, hurry!” gamer dude exclaims, but unfortunately, you’re downed again.

“Shit, this VR shit is tripping me out. I can’t aim for shit.”

“It’s ok, hold, hold, hold—I got you!”

By the time he ‘got’ you though, a dozer fucks him up and you both lose miserably. You take your headset off and notice that both of you were kind of sweaty and out of breath.

“Oh, shit! What’s the time? Shit, shit, shit.” He puts the headset and the controllers back in place and looks at his phone. You do the same. “Ahhh, he’s so gonna kill meee!” He panics after reading presumably a text on his phone, proceeding to walk off. “Gotta find my friend again, but it was really, really fun! See you ‘round!” 

He’s waving at you, but before he can leave, you subconsciously reach two fingers and yank him by the back of his collar.

“Urk—!” he coughs, getting mildly strangled by the material before shooting you a nervous look. “What was that for?”

“I uhh… I never got your name, actually—and I had fun too.” You are of course lying, but you know this, which is why you look away feeling guilty.

“P-Pretty sure I told you my name last time.” The guy fidgets with the collar of his t-shirt, a blush spreading on his acne-ridden skin.

Not cutting you any slack, huh?

“I know, I know. I’m really sorry for—”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to force yourself, really!” He laughs nervously. “I really enjoyed gaming with you, though. At the arcade and here too, but I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable or anything when I asked you to come here on a whim. I’m the one who’s sorry.”

“N-No, listen,” you begin, staring at your shoes and feeling remorseful. “There’s nothing wrong with you and I’m not forcing myself. I’m just really, really bad at maintaining human connections. I push everyone away, not just you. So don’t, uhh. Don’t feel bad about it, okay? I was wrong. I’d really like to game with you again sometime. It really is fun.”

You reach your sweaty-ass hand out for a handshake. He stares at it hesitantly for a second and then takes it.

“Honest?” he asks.

“Honest,” you answer.

“That’s fucking awesome!” He bounces on his feet before adding, “I-I was actually replaying that night in my head over and over, trying to figure out what I did to mess up…”

You must’ve made a face, because he quickly tries to rectify. “I-I mean! It’s okay now. I’m also… bad at making friends. So I like—understand.” His phone goes off, startling him in the process. “Shit, shit, shit. Gotta run!” He spins on his foot and paces away. 

“Name’s Shuichi, by the way!” Shuichi shouts at you on his way out and you smile, waving at him and pulling out your phone to make sure his name gets properly saved this time around.

It doesn’t take long for you to follow, making your way out of the tech store and leaning on the railing of the floor as you throw one last look at the mall’s exit, watching long purple hair bouncing around from a jog to catch up with… goth dude? They know each other?

Immediately after, Taylor calls you up.

“So. I bought you some shit I know you’ll like.” They let out a charming giggle before continuing, “Oh, your Holiness! Will you ever forgive me for hooking up in the forbidden changing rooms?” Your friend gasps. “Do you wanna know what his dick looks like?! You know how he has piercings all over? Well—”

“Ew, ew, ew! Gross! Taylor, please—” You grimace, praying they were joking.

“Oh my god, he also really wanted to have your number btw! I didn’t give it to him ‘cos I didn’t want you to bitch at me, but we’ll see him at the party! Girl, I’m so excited for Saturday!” They squeal into your ear. “Hold on! Don’t move! I think I see youuu! You’re that gloomy bitch that’s bent over the railing, right?”

Your friend waves at you enthusiastically with like thirty bags in their hands, all the way from the other side of the floor. How they even spotted you from the other side of the mall will forever be a complete mystery to you.

“Can we leave now? I wanna go home.”

“Oh, shut the fuck up, babes. Bet ya bought like, at least three stupid games from the nerd store while I was getting that dick. Don’t even lie to me, girl!” 

You blush, standing still and waiting for them to catch up to you. 

“Only one, actually.”

Both of you snort and break into a chuckle fit as they’re closing in. Your friend skips the last few steps to you, hooks their arm into yours and pulls you forward with them, as if it wasn’t you who was waiting for them this entire fucking time. “C’mon, we gotta catch the bus.”

“Okay, but you are buying your own fucking ticket this time around, right?”

“Riiiight.” They giggle.

You roll your eyes and smile at your friend, burning red eyes plaguing the back of your mind for the days to follow, as will the four little words that you swear you could still hear him speak into your ears.

“I fucking like you.”

[ryker-writes]

hello ! how are you ? well if you dont mind, please vil schoenheit x reader (from ramshackle, she always had a crush on him but never tell him being afraid of being rejected), we all know that vil can be mean but we still love him, the reader is very kind and always worried about him ( like she always try her best to make him feel better when he's not okay and feel loved, because he grow up with no mother, like a mother with her son having so much mercy on him), one day she'll looks at him with tears in her eyes, touching his face slowly then cries ( she always loved him and want to be in a relationship with him, but she's afraid of not being happy with him because sometimes he's mean, and arrogant, so she's lost inside not knowing what to do) and you can continue what will happend !! thank you and good luck !! ( the reader can be gender if you want i dont mind, sorry for my bad english >~< !!) 💕💖

heyo! I'm doing well thanks for asking! I'm very much enjoying writing requests. I enjoyed writing this! It's kind of soft moments with the TWST characters (especially one's like Vil) that I love. I was a little unsure of how to end it so sorry if it sounds awkward or Ooc. Anyway I hope I was able to do your request right and thank you so much for the request! <3

it was hard not to like Vil

he's very intelligent, talented, passionate, and hard working

not to mention his beauty

just looking at him is enough to take your breath away

but he had hundreds of fans who also saw this

and they wanted all of his attention

Vil was kind enough to give them plenty

he was always so nice to them

of course you liked Vil

he was always trying to help those around him look their best

Vil wanted to surround himself with people he deemed worthy

and that meant they had to look and act beautifully

he always was correcting others looks, language, and behavior

sure he could be mean about it sometimes and people often saw it as him bossing them around

but you always knew there was more to it than that

you knew that he simply strived for beauty in every aspect of his life and that included those around him

it was hard not to love Vil

very few get the opportunity to be alone with him

you considered yourself very lucky to be one of those people

it was getting late and almost time for the celebrity to rest for the night

he didn't say anything, but you could just feel that something was wrong

but when you asked he simply said nothing was wrong

a lie

you could tell

so even though he didn't tell you what was wrong, you reassured him that he could tell you if something was wrong

he just hummed and told you that you should probably be heading back to Ramshackle and he has to get ready for bed anyway

after all you shouldn't see Vil without his makeup and being less than perfect

he wouldn't want that to happen

but you just smiled at him

"You're already perfect without any of your makeup. Besides, your beauty goes beyond just your looks."

there was silence for a minute before he chuckled

"I suppose you're right. Thank you. You should be heading to bed though. Getting enough sleep will help your skin."

of course you loved Vil

but you would never tell him

you've seen how mean he can be to some people and he can really tear them down under the guise of helping them

Vil would never accept your love anyway

he had so many other fans that loved him, why would he choose you?

Vil had a rough day today, so naturally you were there for him

he had been standing in front of you and venting about all the trouble the first years caused

he was insulting all the first years as he talked

hearing him just absolutely tear into the first years had started something in your brain

would Vil talk about you like this if you did something wrong?

you love Vil, you truly do

but would you be able to take his insults day after day of being with him?

could you even be happy like that? being with the one you love but he treats you like that?

at some point Vil had stopped talking and was now fully facing you

he never liked being worried or stressed because it can cause wrinkles and acne, but there he was with a worried expression

you heard him ask why you were crying

you were crying? since when?

had your thoughts really driven you so far that you were crying in front of him?

he probably thinks of crying as an ugly thing right?

would he start insulting you here and now for doing something so ugly?

slowly, you reached out to cup his cheek

though you're not sure why you did so

he didn't push you away or try to stop you at all

he even leaned into your touch and sighed

"If you felt that strongly about the first years, you could have told me."

shaking your head you mumbled, "It's not that. I just..."

"You're tired of hearing me talk like this."

hesitantly you nodded

that may have been part of it, but he doesn't need to know the rest

he hummed, "I suppose I haven't been to kind lately. How horrible of me. You're too kind to me and I just stand here insulting everyone else."

gently, he set his hand atop yours and removed it from his face

his fingers intertwined with yours and he used his other hand to wipe the tears off your face

"This would be so much easier if you just confessed your feelings already."

w h a t

no really, what?

he knows????

how does he know?

was it obvious?

Vil seemed to sense your internal panic and chuckled

"I've had people fall in love with me before Darling. It's easy to recognize. I'm more surprised you haven't said anything. If you did then I'm sure all of this would be easier for you to talk about. So tell me, why haven't you?"

there was a moment of silence as you processed everything

once your brain had a moment to catch up, you told him

"I'm just a bit worried. You can be really mean sometimes, and I just...I don't know if I can handle that."

for a split second, he looked offended before sighing again

"I would never want to be mean or insult you, ever. You are the one person who doesn't need me to help with their appearance. Even I can't improve what's already perfect."

Of course, Vil loved you too

[oddest-oddish]

Entspannen

Generally, I'm an original fiction writer, but writer's block has me looking for another outlet, so here we are with a short piece, featuring a tired Felix and an introspective Ace.

Five years ago, if someone had told Ace he'd be awake at five in the morning to watch a game of football, he'd have asked how big the bet was. Sports betting wasn't his favorite, but for the right stakes, he could pretend to be a morning person for the day. If that someone had told him he'd be watching a football game with no money on the line, purely for enjoyment, at five am, in Germany he would have laughed.

Well, scratch that. If this hypothetical situation had happened five years ago, Ace would have been elated. An early morning on the other side of the world would be preferable to his current situation, spending his time running from monstrous creatures and living amongst similar victims between deadly encounters. He would have been skeptical, but maybe a little hopeful.

Ten years ago, if Ace had been told about his future in front of the television, then he would have laughed. Five, he'd have been happy to hear it. Now? He's downright amazed.

Here he was, sitting alone in a comfortable living room in southern Germany. The clock above the fireplace read 5:03, and a football match was underway. Ace was happy.

Ace had been surprised at how easy it was to fall back in love with the sport he used to admire as a kid. He'd found that Argentinian games could be streamed live, all the way in Coburg, and had started watching them in his free time. With his husband at work, he certainly had a lot of free time, especially when he was new to the country and had yet to make friends or find things to do. His hometown team was still one of the stronger ones, and Ace relearned that sports could be fun to watch, even without money on the line.

Ace yawned again and pulled his blanket further up his chest as he settled in on the couch: a massive L-shaped thing that Ace had originally balked at getting. It was simply too much couch for the two of them. But Felix had convinced him otherwise, and Ace had come to enjoy being able to put his feet up while facing the TV.

Ace found his mind wandering as the game began, drifting to the man sleeping upstairs. It had been only a couple years since the Entity had freed them. Ace expected his relationship with Felix to end when they left that realm, but Felix had surprised him, choosing to stay by his side. Now, they were living together in Germany, a fate Ace never would have expected, neither five nor ten years ago. How had he become so lucky? Maybe it was the universe apologizing for sending him into that realm in the first place; letting him leave with a much brighter life ahead.

Footsteps in the hallway behind him pulled Ace out of his thoughts. He glanced to his right and Felix entered the room. His hair had been mussed up and heavy bags jutted out beneath his eyes. He wore a pair of green flannel pajama pants and an old gray t-shirt just tight enough for Ace to admire his pecs, as the material clung to his upper body. Any other time, Ace would have been thrilled to see him.

Now however, was different. "What are you doing down here, love? You gotta go back to bed," Ace said, careful not to let his frustration strain his gentle tone. While a 5 am wake up wasn't unreasonable for Felix under normal circumstances, Felix had just spent the last four days cooped up in his office racing to finish his newest proposal. He'd been so busy working on his newest design, an expansion to an art museum in Munich, that the hours of sleep he'd gotten in the last three days could be counted on two hands.

When Felix returned to work, he'd slipped into his old routine; he stayed up too late and worked himself to the bone more often than not. He took meals in his home office and sometimes forgot to sleep. Ace knew that Felix was using his work as a release for the trauma the Entity had left behind, but still, he was getting lonely, and it hurt to see Felix working himself miserable.

After one too many nights alone Ace had finally sat down with Felix and asked him to lower his hours. After a long conversation that ended with tears and "i love you"s from the both of them, Felix had promised to work things out.

The issue was that architects have nothing if not an inconsistent schedule. Felix had explained to Ace that with different deadlines depending on the project, the amount of paperwork and reports that had to be done, and the different contractors and businesses he had to coordinate with, a set number of hours a week or a daily schedule was impossible. But he cut back on the number of projects he managed, delegating more to the different members of his firm. His business partner, Lauren, had been relieved to see Felix ease up on his work, even sending Ace an expensive bottle of wine as a thank you for "knocking some sense into him." Felix and Ace had settled into the best routine they could manage. When deadlines approached, Felix would still be extremely busy, but in between projects, he'd find time to wind down, and spend time with Ace. They'd found a comfortable pattern that worked for the both of them.

At least, it should be working. Because Ace knew that Felix had crawled into bed at midnight the night before, having send the last of the files over to the client. And after half of week of exhausting work, he certainly should not be downstairs. Ace had half a mind to drag him back upstairs himself.

"Babe, you promised you'd get some sleep after this. Please tell me you're not putting more on your plate," Ace continued, worry starting to slip into his words.

Felix brushed his concerns aside with a wave of a hand and crossed the room towards the couch. He picked up a large tan blanket on the way before making his way to where Ace sat. With a low grumble, he laid down on the couch, curling up on a ball perpendicular to Ace, laying his head in Ace's lap.

All at once, Ace was reminded of just how adorable Felix was when he was tired. He relaxed as Felix got comfortable beside him, relieved that he wasn't about to go do any more work. "Alrighty then, happy to have some company," he said, bringing one hand into Felix's short hair, absentmindedly rubbing his scalp.

"Missed you," said Felix. His eyes were closed and his breathes heavy as he spoke.

"I missed you too, but I'm glad you got everything done, love. Those sketches you showed me looked like some of your best yet. And Lauren's got someone to oversee the next couple stages, so we've got a few days to catch up." As Ace spoke, Felix grabbed at his free hand and squeezed it gently.

"Mm-hmm." Ace deciphered the hum as a yes and turned back to the game. Two players were arguing with the referee who held a red card in his hands. Well shit; losing a player this early would make things very difficult for his team. However, Ace didn't mind too much- seeing Felix curled up with him made it hard to be angry.

"Should I mute it?" he asked quietly. "Don't need to hear it to know what's going on." Felix just shook his head. Ace felt a rush of relief, especially because the remote was sitting on the coffee table out of reach, and getting up now would be downright cruel to both of them.

The game resumed on screen and Ace focused on it once again. Beneath him, Felix's breathing evened out as he fell asleep. Ace smiled. He could get used to this.

At halftime, the match was scoreless. Ace carefully pulled his phone out of his pocket, careful not to jostle Felix too much. He answered messages from Jeff and Jonah before opening the phone's camera. He made sure the flash and the shutter sound were both off before holding his phone up, pointing it down, and snapping a picture.

The quality wasn't great, but that wasn't important. The light of the television illuminated the left half of Felix's face. The tension in his expression had loosened, and he looked more at ease than he'd been in a week. Ace smiled down at him as a warm feeling stirred up in his chest. Love.

While stuck in the Entity's Realm, this feeling had always been accompanied with a pang of guilt. Ace never should have been so happy about the situation. He and Felix never should have met, let alone get together. The man had a girlfriend and a child on the way; he didn't deserve to be pulled out of his life and thrown into hell alongside Ace. In a kinder world, Felix never would have heard of Ace.

But the world was cruel enough to push them together, so they made something out of it. Ace was grateful to Felix for choosing him in the Entity's realm, but the feeling that they didn't belong there, didn't belong together, never went away.

Now though, they weren't looking over their shoulders, awaiting their next trial. Now they had real food, electricity, and indoor plumbing. Sleep didn't always come easy with the lingering nightmares, but when it did, there was a clean, warm bed instead of whatever dry ground they could find. And the love certainly came easy, without the feeling of guilt lingering in the back of Ace's mind.

When the second half starts, Ace turns his attention back to the screen. By some miracle, the game remains scoreless, despite the penalty the team is facing. While Ace is happy to see his team hanging on, he's mostly glad for the tie because going into overtime means he gets to stay here with Felix for another half hour.

Halfway through the overtime period, Ace's favorite player scored a goal. Instinctively, he jolted up in excitement, startling Felix in the process. His husband gasped as he woke up, looking around in confusion.

"Shit, I'm sorry about that," Ace said. He'd really hoped Felix would stay asleep for longer.

"Mmm, it's alright," said Felix, squinting at the television. He made no motion to get up, just rolled onto his side so he could see the game. "I do not want to change my sleeping schedule by a lot."

"Right 'cause getting up at 7 in the morning is normal for you." Ace sighed dramatically, with no real frustration. Some things never changed, and their opposing sleep schedules were likely one of them. Normally, by the time Ace saw Felix in the morning, he'd been up for a few hours, having gotten dressed and ready for the day. So in these rare opportunities, Ace reveled in seeing his husband sleepy and at ease. The cuddles were a nice bonus too.

The game ended 1-0 shortly after, but neither man made a move to get up or reach for the remote. Felix dozed off again and Ace pulled him closer, held him a little tighter. Eventually, Ace would get restless and Felix would get hungry. They'd have to move eventually. But for now, Ace could just sit here, holding the man he loved. For now, they could just be.

Thanks for reading. I really enjoyed writing these two together, and if anyone has any requests, I'm always looking for story ideas. More to come I hope, both between these two and some original works of my own.

[bitchapalooza]

Some father-son hcs for Giacomo and Larry!

Larry was roughly 30 when Giacomo was born. (Larry is 46 now!)

Hes very serious when he says it was the happiest day of his life. He was nearly late because he was at work when he got the call, but luckily he got there in time.

But when he finally got to hold Giacomo in his arms, he was so happy! He didn't feel overworked or sleep deprived for once. He was giddy. Hed been waiting so long to meet him after being told he was going to be a dad. He felt like he actually had a reason to work so hard and so much.

When he and his wife divorced, it was mutual but still pretty rocky. Giacomo was about 5 when it happened. He remembers just being confused and wondering why he was visiting his grandparents so often until suddenly his dad is moving out without them and his mom is selling the house and moving into an apartment.

When Larry started dating again, Giacomo didnt know how to feel. And like any confused 7 year old, he kind of took it out on the woman his dad was seeing— Katy.

He was never really mean or did anything mean, its more like he always chose to ignore her when she'd try talking to him. Happened more often when Giacomo found out Larry and Katy had been dating for several months before introducing Katy to him! He felt like Larry was lying to him when he brought her over for dinner! His little kid brain just assumed they just met that exact day lmao

He mainly acted this way, though, because he thought his mom was gonna leave if Larry and Katy got married 😭

When his mom finally explained to him that nothings gonna happen to her and she'll be his mom forever and Katy wasn't planning anything, he settled down. Still was weary of Katy, but at least he was more open to her like telling her his interests for example.

Now, Gia and Katy are on good terms of course. He was the ring bearer for their wedding and he was super serious about his job!

Larry and Giacomo used to be much closer than they are now. Giacomo used to be so excited about his summer weekends with his dad, but for the past couple summers, Giacomo's been distant and recently has been holing himself up at his base.

Larry did try to speaking to him about going back to school and getting serious about his education, especially if he wished to go to college like he planned, but Giacomo wasnt having any of it. Even brought up the fact that hes not home often enough to even know whats going on so maybe he should "back off". But Gia never made the effort to let either of his parents know what was going on in the first place.

Things are... Not better, but at least Gia doesn't get upset or yell at his parents anymore. Since dealing with his bullies, his attitude has improved.

When Larry did learn about the bullying, he was not happy. Especially when no one from the old staff told him until recently when Gia came out about himself.

Larry's idea of having fun outtings with Gia are taking him out to eat and taking him to work 💀

He doesn't get Gia's interests, but tries his best to encourage them if they make him happy.

Larry prides himself on not raising a spoiled child. He taught Gia, from a young age, to ALWAYS work hard for his money. He never once spoiled Gia and always assigned him chores in order to earn his allowance. And once he started Pokémon training and earning money through battles, Larry sat Gia down so he could properly learn how to save and budget money.

He was realistic with him that working in the real world wasn't going to be great, even if you've gotten your dream job. There's always set backs and you have to learn to live with them. Sometimes you may have to choose between work and making a living or your desires. And Gia has kept these lessons in mind.

Larry honestly misses the days when Gia was so small. During his paternity leave, Larry spent so much time bonding with Gia before he got busy with work again. He'd sit in the chair in his nursery, holding Giacomo to his chest so he'd hear his heartbeat, copying exactly how Gia's mom held him.

The first time Gia got sick it was an ear infection. He was crying for hours non stop with a fever and even threw up a few times. While his mom was freaking out and worried because the fever wasn't getting any better after two days even with medicine, Larry sat there calling his mom for her "miracle remedy". He too had frequent bad ear infections as a child and already figured Gia might too. His mom advised him what to do to ease the discomfort and keep him calm and he immediately set out to get the things. It was just a stuffed animal he could put a rice heat pack in and put to his ear(s) for a few minutes. At times like these Larry would stay up all night if he had to to help Gia with the pain.

Unfortunately, these ear infections didnt become less common as Gia grew up like Larry's did by age 8. He still gets them now, but antibiotics respond well and fast enough. His mom refuses surgery like doctors suggest, but Larry would honestly prefer it if it meant Gia could stop taking the antibiotics so much.

Larry loves his son. He loves him no matter what. He grew up without his father in his life 90% of the time and is determined to make sure he doesn't do the same to Gia. Its hard to do with his work schedule and all, but hes in Gia's life way more than his own father was his.

Larry has tried playing the video games Giacomo likes, and he got motion sick. Very motion sick. And Gia brings this up constantly.

No, Larry does not make dad jokes. He cannot stand them. Giacomo, to annoy his father, makes the dad jokes instead. But you won't catch him doing it around his friends. Yeah he'd rather die.

[simonsquest]

Simon opens up to Selena about his absent father, and his concerns about being a parent.

Sleepless nights were commonplace now, Simon laments as he lays awake staring at the ceiling. His only comfort is the fact that his wife sleeps soundly by his side, unbothered, and unaffected. What a blessing that is.

Selena often falls asleep curled up against him, her head upon his bare chest. Simon’s arm is wrapped around her shoulders, ever-protective, even in the comfort of their bed.

The only trouble is that Selena is a very light sleeper. The smallest movement can wake her, yet she insists on sleeping in his arms. And while Simon has grown to appreciate sharing the bed with her, stillness has been difficult lately. When he can’t sleep—rather, avoids staying asleep for long periods, lest the nightmares plague him—he feels compelled to get up, move around, busy his hands. Anything but lay down and stare at the ceiling.

But Selena’s comfort is paramount, especially now that she carries their second child. Thus, Simon does what he can to stay completely still, fighting restlessness as it gnaws at him. Fighting the spiralling thoughts that enter his mind only in the quiet of night.

This evening, however, Selena wakes up unprompted. She lifts her head, blinking sleep from her eyes, before craning her head up to look at him.

“Did I disturb you?” Simon inquires, his warm voice a whisper.

Selena shakes her head, sliding a hand upon his chest. “I had a strange dream, I think.”

“Oh?” Simon adjusts his body, at last, as he draws her closer to him. “What did you dream of?”

Selena laughs a little in reply, minding her volume. “I cannot remember the details.”

Simon huffs a small laugh, leaning his head down to kiss the crown of her head. Selena hums agreeably in reply, nuzzling against him.

“Are you unable to sleep again?” Selena inquires instead, still hushed.

“It seems so.” Simon replies simply, shirking the question.

“Am I crushing you?” Selena asks suddenly, raising her head again.

Simon stifles a laugh—such a warm and rare sound. “No, rest assured.”

“Is there something on your mind?” Selena asks instead, her eyes closing as she settles against him again. She relishes the feeling of his firm warmth against her, his powerful arms wrapping around her, hands smoothing over her shoulder.

Simon hums something soft as he thinks of how best to reply.

He chooses honesty: “my parents.”

Selena blinks. This answer takes her by surprise. Simon has mentioned to her that he doesn’t remember much about his parents—no faces to put names to. What is it he could be thinking about? Selena is eager to learn more, but, she feels it may be a sensitive subject.

Instead, her fingertips run idly along a prominent scar on Simon’s chest. A minute, comforting gesture.

“Would you like to talk about it?” She finally asks.

Simon hesitates for a moment. Selena’s gesture stills. Perhaps it was wrong to ask.

With a soft sigh, Simon tries in a whisper: “my father deflected when I was a child.”

Selena processes this information. She had assumed Simon’s father died. Does he yet live? She chooses to keep quiet as Simon continues.

“I do not have the precise details, but…” Selena feels Simon turning his head to the side, grasping at his thoughts, trying to articulate himself. “I reflect on that fact, at times.”

Selena notes how his heartbeat quickens. Simon has always been one to shirk his concerns. She understood, early on in their relationship—they both hesitated to become attached, and open up—but now, all of these years later, after all they’ve been through, and the love they share… Selena wishes he wouldn’t feel the need to.

But the gears turn in her mind. His father must have been the Belmont descendant, for him to deflect. And for him to deflect, and neglect his duties as a Belmont… that must mean that Simon was raised by his grandfather. And Selena doesn’t have the most favorable opinion of him.

Selena smoothes her hand over Simon’s chest as she props herself on her arm, getting a better look at his face. He’s looking away, and there’s a tightness in his jaw.

“I am so sorry. I didn’t know.” Selena whispers in apology, genuine. Simon shakes his head, closing his eyes.

“I never told you. No need to apologize.”

Selena stays as she is, trying to read Simon’s face in the darkness of night. She doesn’t know what to say next. What would be appropriate to say, or ask?

She tries: “does his absence hurt you?”

Simon’s brow furrows as he opens his eyes.

“No,” he starts, hesitating. “Not anymore, but…”

Selena’s heart breaks for him. She envisions him, so young, shouldering the weight of his lineage, with no support from his parents. How cruel.

“It makes me reflect on my parenthood.” Simon admits in a whisper at last.

Selena blinks. “In what way?”

She can see how Simon’s mouth has twitched into a frown, he’s still looking away from her. There’s an incredibly long pause as Simon tries to put his concerns into words.

“I haven’t a point of reference,” Simon tries, so awkward. “I don’t feel as though I’m doing any of this right.”

There it is. Selena is grateful to know what’s plaguing his mind. She’s eager to reassure him.

Selena softens. “You’re a wonderful father, Simon. Mathieu loves you.”

She can plainly see that Simon is struggling to take her words as truth. He resists: “it is you who has raised him. I am hardly present.”

“That isn’t true,” Selena retorts, her voice still hushed. “He respects you, and misses you, and is always eager for your return home.”

Selena has propped herself a bit higher, now, choosing to brush her fingers upon Simon’s cheek, gently moving the red hair from his face.

He finally looks at her, and turns his head to face her again.

“He is kind and just. He has your heart of fire.” Selena underlines, rubbing her thumb upon Simon’s jawline. This earns her a hint of a smile, and her heart swells at the sight of him trying to take her words to heart.

But there’s something that stops him from doing that.

Looking down at Selena again, Simon hesitates before finally sharing: “he’s a Belmont.”

Smiles fade. She knows exactly what Simon means by that. Their boy must shoulder the same fate that Simon has. Perhaps not directly fighting Dracula—Simon prays with all of his heart that he’s put an end to that. But his children. Their children. All strung along in this awful lineage of bloodshed and fighting. Mankind’s evil deeds will never cease. And the Belmonts must always be primed and prepared to protect the people.

Mathieu will endure the same training Simon has.

And their second child yet unborn, too, will have to shoulder this fate.

“Forgive me,” Simon apologies, raising a hand to cradle Selena’s cheek as she ruminates the implications. His calloused thumb rubs on her cheekbone.

Neither of them can change the fate that God has willed for them and their descendants. This they know. There isn’t any point in wasting energy on it.

But it is so sad. And weighs so heavy on Simon especially: the progenitor of this perpetual curse. Selena, and their children, are unfortunate casualties in it.

“There is a difference between you and your father.” Selena tries, leaning into his touch. Simon’s brow raises, eyes searching hers.

“You will never abandon your children.” Selena underlines.

Simon softens. Selena’s right. He would never.

“You’re a good man, Simon,” Selena emphasizes. “You’re a good father.”

As if to illustrate her point, Selena closes the distance between them, claiming Simon’s lips in her own. He hums a soft sound, returning the gesture.

When they part, Selena moves to cradle his cheek in her hand. Simon relaxes into her touch, moving his hand to hold hers, kissing into her palm.

Such a sacred, soft moment, so private between the two of them.

“You need your rest.” Simon reminds in a whisper, gentle. Selena concedes, settling into the bed again, but choosing to lay on her back beside Simon, rather than upon him.

Noting the change, Simon moves to lay on his side, facing her. He watches her with a soft gaze, admiring her beautiful face in a mess of her golden hair.

Selena takes the opportunity to hold his hand, and guide it onto her enlarged abdomen. She holds it there, turning her head to look at him.

Simon softens at the gesture with eyes downcast as his thumb rubs the spot, so gently.

Simon will do all he can for their children.

Selena believes in him. And that’s more than enough.

[chaithetics]

A Cinematic Lover - Chapter 3

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x f reader

Word count: 4.3K

Chapter/content warning: 18+ MINORS DNI (no smut in this chapter), briefly mentioned past substance abuse addiction, mutual pining and FLUFF. FLUFFY FLUFF FLUFF

(Reader doesn't have any physical descriptions or implied characteristics but does have chronic illnesses and is explicitly diagnosed as having endometriosis, fibroids and vaginismus).

Author's note: I'M SO SORRY FOR HOW LATE THIS ONE IS. It's been like close to 2 months?! Please forgive me and enjoy this fluff! Please do let me know what you think! I adore you all! Comments and reblogs are appreciated! This has not been proofread lol.

*************

Dieter was lying on the couch as Abby was sitting across from him and his personal assistant Eliza was hovering nearby checking emails on her phone. 

“So you’re now sleeping with the writer/producer?” Abby playfully asked breaking the somewhat comfortable silence aside from Eliza’s nearby hovering nature like a flying bug caught inside. 

Dieter sighed at that and Eliza sharply looked up from her screen for a brief moment at the question but her glance swiftly landed back on her screen, while Dieter had always treated her well it wouldn’t have entirely surprised her. 

“No! But I mean I wouldn’t mind if we were. But wait, I mean that I’d want more than that first and well continuing I guess.” Dieter responded thoughtfully, making sure to choose the right words as he rubbed his brow. He knew Abby would be smirking at that, she’d find him tripping over his words amusing and as more potential proof than anything else. 

“Oh.” Abby said in astonishment. 

Eliza looked up again, this time for a bit longer. She knew that Dieter was lonely but in her few years of working with Dieter, she’d never heard him speak about someone or be attached to someone in such a way. It was so earnest. 

While Dieter’s sobriety provoked that more often than before that, it was still something that would take getting used to and moments like this were somewhat significant because of that. Dieter had put work in and was experiencing that thing called personal growth. Eliza and Abby could both see it. 

“How do I ask her out in a way that is explicit enough to be interpreted as a date-date but not forward enough so that if she shoots me down it’s weird? I don’t want to make her uncomfortable. I’d be more than happy just to be her friend if she doesn’t want more, I don’t want to ruin it.” Dieter tilted his head to look at Abby and Eliza pleading for them to answer as he rushed the words out that were wanting to explode from him. He hoped getting them out would relieve the anxious mess in his head but it just made the anxiety turn to a tumbling ball in his stomach. 

“What about-” Abby started to say before she was quickly cut off by Dieter as an idea leapt into his chaotic mind. 

“Oh! Eliza, can you look at plays and maybe like special film screenings? But not the pish posh snobby ones” Dieter interjected. 

“Sure, what does she like?” 

“Horror, obviously.” Dieter quickly spoke, Eliza might’ve found it rude but he didn’t say it in a mean way. The way he said it was so earnest and he knew it was silly but he liked knowing what you liked and Eliza found it a bit endearing from him. Dieter thought for a few more seconds before continuing. “But plays, she’s into tragedies? Especially the older ones, not Shakespeare tragic but like Greeks killing their shitty husbands and poking their eyeballs out tragic.” 

“Right…” Eliza’s brow furrowed at Dieter’s description as she continued to tap away at and scroll through her phone. She wasn’t super familiar with tragedies or Greek mythology, she knew it was weird though but she found that vague description concerning as she continued to swipe. “Um, Eurydice? That’s a Greek name right?” She asked, her pitch got a bit higher with the uncertainty in her question. 

“Eurydice and Orpheus.” Abby quickly said as she drummed her fingers against her knee watching Eliza’s professional frantic work and Dieter’s instant perk up over planning an excursion for you. 

“Yes! Who’s it by?” Dieter chirps.

“Sarah Ruhl, American playwright. There’s a one-off special performance on Friday.” Eliza quickly responded. 

“Oh, that’s perfect Eliza! It’s like a feminist retelling, right? That’s perfect. I’ve heard of it but I haven’t seen it. Can you get me 2 good seats and find a synopsis or something for me.” 

“Yep, yep and done, all booked in. I just texted you the spoiler-free synopsis.” 

“Thanks, you’re an angel.” 

“Are you going to message her now?” Abby asked raising an eyebrow, Eliza looked up from her phone to look at Dieter and he blushed. 

“On it Mom.” He nodded while his cheeks were still pink and dramatically snickered as he typed away on his phone. Composing and deleting the message before sending it several times before he eventually sent that small text and felt excited yet disturbingly vulnerable. 

*****************

You were sitting cross-legged in a chair at Sati’s with her and Juan, the director of photography, discussing shot lists again. You had a cup of chai in hand and you were once again impressed at how quickly Juan could jot down notes when any of the three of you got into a rant or tangent and were speaking a million miles an hour. You hadn’t had the chance to work with Juan yet but he was talented and a good sort, it didn’t take long to see either of those things. 

“Well, a wide shot there with Carmen in the background, in a doorway I think- that would work best right? It’s the visual I pictured when writing that scene.” You spoke up as your attention was brought back. 

“Yeah, that makes sense. With the script and everything.” Juan responded as he jotted something down. “Slightly hazy focus?” 

“Yeah, I like that.” Sati said quietly, her mind focused on the pages in front of her. 

“Cool, cool, cool.” Juan said almost to himself as he scribbled something down, again. He often spoke in response to you both you noticed but when he did it had this calm, quiet, factual nature that made it feel like more of a note to himself. “Well we’ve blocked a lot out and I’m sorry but I need to go now. See you both on Thursday?” 

“Yeah, thanks, Juan. Sounds great.” Sati said as Juan started to leave. 

“Thank you.” You called out as he was showing himself out. “You weren’t super chatty today Sati.” 

“Just tired.” Sati hummed out and slummed into her chair for a bit. “Is insomnia contagious? Did you give it to me?” 

“It’s not an STI.” You smirked. 

“I know that!” Sati rolled her eyes. “We’d need to screw for that to happen. Other things can be contagious without being an STI though, like colds!” 

“Well, that’s good to know. Thanks, Sati.” You deadpanned and she again dramatically rolled her eyes. 

“Well thanks for the wit, I’m exhausted and I now need to pee.” Sati said as she got up. 

“Go piss girl.” You immediately said with a small chuckle and she rolled her eyes. 

“You’re the worst.” She said before leaving your sights. 

You were looking over the papers in front of you when you felt your phone vibrate in your pocket. Quickly pulling your phone out of boredom at the lack of Sati’s presence you check the notification and are quickly surprised by it. 

DIETER: Hey, are you free Friday night by any chance? There’s a production of Eurydice on, made me think of you. 

It made you immediately smile, a wide, goofy one that if Sati saw you knew she’d tease you. It was a sweet text. Something made Dieter Bravo think of you? You felt your cheeks heat up at that and the smile widen somehow even more. Obviously, your brief conversation on Medea and the tragedies made him associate you with the genre now you thought. Which ironically didn’t feel tragic to you, you were certain others would find that tragic and bizarre but you couldn’t help but find it rather sweet. 

You quickly text back that you’re free and that you’d love to go. Which is completely true, you had heard about the play and read it but you hadn’t seen it live but you had always wanted to. This made the gesture so much more meaningful to you. 

“Why is your phone making you smile?” Sati asks as she walks back into the room. 

“Dieter texted.” 

“Oh?”

“There’s a production of Eurydice on Friday. He’s invited me I guess?” You wipe your face as if there’s something there on it but really if there was anything to wipe away it would be that smile. You’re just trying to shield your face from hers although you know she’ll read it as if she’s inside your head somehow. The power of Sati. 

“He knows you like tragedies?!” Sati exclaims somewhat shocked by the revelation. “Or does he think you’re sad? Or is he sad and pretentious?” 

“We talked about them the other day, it’s not weird.” You say with a shy smile, your hands going back to your sides as you sit looking up at her standing in the room. 

“Better this than Oedipus Rex I guess?” She asks with a smirk. 

“Why because-”

“It could be a green flag, it says he has issues, he knows, just not mommy issues!” She teases. “So don’t worry!” 

“That one psych paper you did at undergrad, ruined you I swear.” You quip back with a chuckle. 

“Very funny.” She sighs and then looks at you a bit more seriously. “So you’re going?” She asks softly. 

“Yeah.” You nod your hand fidgeting with the sleeve of your shirt as you do.

“Well, I look forward to a very thorough review.” Sati says with a smile so wide she hopes it calms the nerves she sees written all over you. 

***************

It was now Friday, the day of the play. It was also a date you thought? You weren’t too sure but Dieter had initiated it both times you meeting up so you were sure it would? Plus, he’d taken book recommendations from you. He had been reading The Only Good Indians by Stephen Graham Jones and had been messaging you regular updates about how he was progressing through it, you’d just finished What Moves the Dead by T. Kingfisher and had talked about it with Dieter, he was genuinely interested in your thoughts on the book. 

You were somewhat anxious to see him but you were looking forward to it. He was going to pick you up and you’d head straight for the theatre. You were wearing a purple matching set, that included a blazer that you had over your arm at the moment. Something about suits just made you happy and you’d wear them whenever you could, especially when endo flare-ups meant that pants that weren’t elasticated and loose (really just pyjama pants) were not an option, let alone a wise one. 

Your phone buzzed as Dieter sent a text announcing his arrival, giving Phoebe a quick goodbye hug and head scratch before heading down, locking up as you made your way to the pavement. Dieter was leaning against the car, as he watched you. A smile on his face that only grew in your presence, as he took you in his cheeks heated up turning pink as well. 

“Hey.” You spoke softly as you got closer to him. 

“Hey.” He said back with a nervous smile.  “I like your little fun suits.” Dieter earnestly spoke as he looked at your outfit. 

He’d seen on your social media and some of the photos of you at awards and events that he’d seen that you often wore suits and he liked it. They were never as boring as men’s suits often were but often had fun colours that you looked great in, he was quickly becoming a big fan of you in purple though. 

“Thank you, you don’t look too bad yourself.” You mean it. It’s the least scruffy you’ve seen him in your few meetings or in pictures that you’ve seen online or in magazines. His hair is still a little messy but the unruly locks are a bit more tame. 

“Kind of like Shiv Roy’s wardrobe, if it was more fun and she’d heard of a colour that wasn’t neutral. And well you’re not scary.” He says as he continues to look at the outfit as he then opens the door of the car for you. 

“You watched Succession?” You ask somewhat surprised as you move into the car, whispering a thanks for him holding the door for you. 

“Well yeah, everyone does. You’re living under a weird little tasteless rock if you aren’t milady.” Dieter quickly teased, smirking at the reveal and your shock at it. 

“Well noted. And as you can see, I do not live under a weird little tasteless rock. Although, I honestly don’t know the science behind rocks and their tastebuds.” You say somewhat solemnly as you raise an eyebrow. 

Dieter pauses for a moment as if he’s thinking about what the science really is behind rocks having tastebuds. He’d never thought about it before and he wonders why it’s only now that he’s considering it. He then smiles, “I’m not sure. I’m not a subject matter expert on rocks or tastebuds, unfortunately. But I’m curious now, I’ll have to google it later.” Dieter says smiling at you, his words earn a small chuckle from you and he loves the sound of it. It’s all he wants to hear and he hopes that he can continue to do that, to get chuckles and genuine laughs out of you. 

The conversation moves onto the show, you’re trying your best not to fidget at your sleeve, it’s such an awful habit you have. But you’re beginning to feel a bit more nervous around him in this context, which is so ironic because being in his presence, at such proximity to him is also so natural and soothing. There’s a warm energy to Dieter and around him, it’s sweet and silly and so, so, so inviting. You notice that he’s also tapping his fingers repeatedly, you wonder if he’s anxious as well. Surely not, right? 

It doesn’t feel like it’s been so long since you’ve been in the car but time has flown by in his presence. You and Dieter are at the theatre and it’s not long before you’re seated in some of the best seats and the show starts. You notice that Dieter seems to be a bit socially anxious, you don’t blame him though you certainly feel uncomfortable at most events and his name is a lot bigger than yours and his face is also far more recognisable. His sunglasses are on and he expertly navigates his way through with a hand on your back to avoid any and all social interactions outside of you. 

When you’re suited down he then slowly removes his sunglasses before tucking them away.

“Are you okay?” You ask softly as you make eye contact.

“Oh, uh-yeah. It just gets intense and well, ridiculous you know?” He says. 

While it’s not a lie, Dieter does want to be honest with you, he wants to tell you everything going on and everything that has ever gone on. He wants to share his thoughts and just word vomit at you, he’s so good at blurting things out at the wrong time but he doesn’t want to do that with you right now. He has this fear of not being enough and he needs you to see him but not that because he hopes it isn’t real and he’ll wake up someday without it. 

“That’s understandable, I imagine it gets pretty intense for you at times.” You respond with a sweet, genuine smile. Dieter returns the smile and you see his soft brown eyes soften. There’s a bit more whispering between the two of you before the show starts. 

The play is brilliant, it’s so moving, well-written and well-performed. You get teary-eyed at one point and Dieter does a couple of times as well. Each time that you do he looks at your face, it breaks him to see you be visibly sad over something. He’s a little surprised at how expressive your face can be especially with how convincing your deadpan delivery is and your sense of humour, he thinks you could be an actor, a talented one at that if you ever decided to but he thinks it’s fascinating that you’ve never seemed to have had that interest. But he’s touched by the fact that he’s met someone so passionate and who is also just as touched by art as he is, it makes him smile a little and it pushes him to be the first one to make physical contact. You oddly didn’t feel self-conscious about getting teary-eyed in front of him and he didn’t feel that way either and you can’t help but feel like that is a good sign. 

He holds your hand in yours as you wipe a tear from your eye with your free hand. He squeezes your hand softly as you do and your cheeks heat up at the contact. It’s so gentle and soothing, his hands are so warm and the embrace between your hands feels so right and natural. Your fingers naturally interlock like pieces in a puzzle, Dieter can’t help but immediately think that there’s no other explanation than that his hand was made to hold yours. 

When the play finished you both leave, Dieter again expertly weaves you out of the crowd to avoid social interaction. He has social anxiety that he doesn’t like to talk about, the allure of his previous vices was that they could aid with combatting those difficulties. Facing them sober had been another battle. But he was managing, he’d had a nice time with you and there was a comfort in your presence, your humour and your smile. It was all so genuine and he liked how your hand felt in his. He hadn’t let it go once since he’d first started holding it. 

Dieter’s still holding your hand as you dodge people until you’re outside of the theatre. He visibly relaxes as soon as his feet hit the pavement and the cool New York evening air hits his face and lungs. You can’t help but smile at him, he’s so real but it somehow feels so surreal to be around him at the same time. 

“Do you want to walk for a bit before heading back?” Dieter asks softly, his warm brown eyes have a puppy dog quality to them and you can’t help but immediately nod at the suggestion. 

You’re still holding his hand and his body is closer to you than it was before, you can feel it somewhat pressed against you. You can feel his body heat, the rest of his body is warm like his hands, his scent is closer to you than what was in the theatre with others. There’s something sweet there, it must be his body wash you think, the idea of him having a ridiculously sweet body wash with a ridiculous name makes you smile. 

“Did you like it?” You ask Dieter as you look into his eyes, he smiles more as the two of you make eye contact. 

“Yeah, yeah, I did!” He says somewhat earnestly as he watches your faces. “Did you?” 

“Oh, I loved it!” You say with a small laugh and his face lights up at that. “I’d been wanting to see it forever so thank you. Really, it was very thoughtful.” He nods at that and he can’t help but goofily smile at that. He has the energy of a dog, so sweet, kind, and just eager to be pleased and validated. You don’t know it quite yet but he can be insecure. 

“I’m glad. Tragedies made me think of you.” He says thoughtfully and then he quickly realises how bad that could sound. “Shoot, I mean I don’t think you’re tragic or you’re living in a weird tragedy. Just that you’re interested in them and it was meant to be thoughtful and I can’t believe I said that-” He sighs as he rambles, his cheeks and ears turning pink. Your smile grows and you can’t help but giggle a little at that.

“I didn’t think you meant that, it didn’t cross my mind. But thank you for clarifying Dee.” You say with a smile, rubbing your thumb over his hand and giving it a small, reassuring squeeze. 

He exhales in relief and the smile returns on his face at your words and your gentle, comforting touch. He also likes that you’ve used a nickname with him. Sure, he’s had people throughout his life call him Dee but not in the way that you do. It feels so right falling from your lips like he’s spent his whole life with it and he’d happily spend the rest of his life hearing you call him that. He knows of that saying and media phenomenon where it’s said that one partner or character fell first but the other fell harder. He knows it’s too early to say it out loud but it’s a fact that he’s fallen first and he’s just falling harder and harder. 

“Thanks. I really mean that.” He says and you nod, you don’t know why he’s thanking you but the moment feels far too earnest to say anything to contradict that. “But speaking of tragedies, how’s the Medea writing going?”

“Still very early, laying the foundations. More reading than anything.” You respond. 

“I like your brain.” Dieter blurts out as soon as you finish your sentence, you look at him with a curious smile and you feel your cheeks heat up at the weird statement. 

“I like yours too.” You respond and you feel butterflies in your stomach as you do. 

“Thanks but yours is truly spectacular. I just-” 

“Just what?” You query, curiously but also somewhat anxiously. 

“I don’t know how to say it.” He says somewhat thoughtfully, more contained than the impulsive but true blurts from before. “I’ll let you know when I do though.” He says, it’s still thoughtful but you both know it’s a true promise. 

“That’s okay.” You say and he nods at that, looking down and smiling, you can see the blush across his cheeks and it’s so cute, he’s truly adorable you think. 

“Should we head off?” He asks. He knows it’s getting late but he also doesn’t want to leave your side. He’d happily spend the rest of the night just walking the city with his hand in yours. 

You nod at that and he sends a text and it’s barely a minute before his driver is back. Dieter holds the car door open for you again and your cheeks heat up again at the gesture. He holds your hand again as you sit and talk in the car, he’d happily initiate more touch but he doesn’t want to rush this. Even just being in your presence is more than enough to fill his soul up with sunlight. 

The car stops outside of your place and Dieter walks you to the doorstep of your apartment. You look at him and smile, he runs a hand through his hair which tousles it a bit, returning his once-tamed locks back to their more chaotic state. It’s a sight that makes you internally swoon. 

“Thank you for tonight, I had a lot of fun, Dee.” You break the brief, comfortable silence as you lean against the door. He smiles widely at that. 

“I’m glad, I really did too.” He says and then pauses for a thoughtful moment. “I think I know how to say it well communicate that earlier thought now?” His eyes are focused on you and you're taken aback a little at the change in the subject but you're nonetheless intrigued. 

“Yes…?” You ask as your eyes widen a little.

“Can I um, well would you like me to kiss you?” He asks, he’s not showing it despite his widened doe eyes but internally he’s shaking at the potential fear of rejection or having upset you. 

“Yes, I would.” You answer quickly trying not to become too flustered at that. “You can kiss me, Dee.” 

“Okay cool.” He says and his face lights up with that and a large smile, it’s like a ridiculous natural glow. 

He places a hand on the back of your waist and the other one cups your cheek gently and he leans in, he presses a kiss to your lips and it’s soft. It’s such a sweet kiss, it isn’t hungry and it doesn’t deepen, there’s no expectation or further request to it. It’s just soft and relatively innocent but there’s a warmth and passion there, Dieter can taste your lip balm and you can taste something sweet on his lips. Confirming what you’d already known, he has a sweet tooth but you think you can taste coffee there as well and you don’t mind. It feels warm and your fingers gently grasp at his hair and run through it as the kiss deepens a little bit. 

When you both pull away he’s blushing and there’s a twinkle in his chocolate eyes. His hair looks even like it normally does with your hands having messed it up a bit. Your cheeks look up as you make eye contact. 

“Thank you.” He says quietly but gently. “I’ll see you later. Well, I’ll message you first but yeah.” 

“Of course. I  know what you mean Dee.” You say with a small laugh as your cheeks heat up more, your face is starting to feel sore with how much he’s making you smile and giggle. 

“Okay good, goodnight.” He says as he presses a chaste kiss to your forehead before returning back to the car. 

What a night, you think as you let yourself in. Dieter Bravo kissed you on your doorstep.

Taglist: @pedritosdarling @read4funz @undermoonlightwalk @daddy-din @cowboychickenlittle @bitchwitch1981 @permanentlydizzy @djarinsstuff @toobsessedsstuff

[noxexistant]

Having more Delancey Thoughts so naturally I bring them to you:

(I'm in the "Morris is older" camp so feel free to substitute this with Oscar should you choose)

Jack doesn't like stealing, but he'll do it if any of his boys needs something and they can't get it any other way. Usually he doesn't get caught.

Until Morris catches him. Morris, whose pockets are also crammed with stolen food and a bottle of medicine from the apothecary.

Neither knows what to say. It's too awkward a situation.

"You gonna call a cop on me?" Jack asks.

Morris can't. He doesn't like the newsies, none of them, but he knows the struggle of trying to care for your younger sibling. Because Oscar hasn't had a decent meal in six days and he's been in pain all over for twice as many. And Morris doesn't care what he's got to do to make sure his brother gets what he needs.

"...We keep this 'tween us." Morris offers, "I don't like you, Kelly. But I know what bein' a big brother's like."

Jack doesn't know how to respond. The Delanceys don't show charity like this to anyone.

"You go home, you feed your brothers. You forget you saw me here, you don't mention it tomorrow at work."

Jack can't bring himself to ever thank a Delancey. Morris doesn't want to be thanked.

as always, i am eating your delancey thoughts eagerly. i am personally so deep in younger morris camp that i could not crawl out if i tried, BUT may i offer you:

jack and morris near collide with each other in the back aisle of a general store, far enough away from the lodging house that the clerk don’t watch them like the ones closer that know them do. jack’s got a couple combs stuffed into the waist of his trousers, a few pairs of socks stuffed down his shirt, toothbrushes, a specific kind of soap ‘cause buttons is allergic to the one they got, and one of them little sewing kits in a tin ‘cause there’s too many holes in all the boys’ clothes and they been out of anything to fix ‘em for way too long. winter’s setting in, jack’s stocking up.

morris don’t hardly look like he’s stocking up. he’s only got one thing, clutched tight in one hand - tight enough that jack can see the colour washing from his bruised knuckles. it must sting, but morris don’t seem to mind. his focus is single-minded, though he seems startled now. scared. reminds jack of when he knocks one of his boys out of a bad dream.

morris seems to get like that a lot. daydreaming. he’s been worse with it lately, while oscar’s been nowhere jack could ever see him. he has half a mind to ask where oscar’s been, but asking if morris is gonna snitch seems like a better question. and morris don’t say no - don’t say anything - but he at least sure don’t look like he’s gonna call the bulls. he looks awful, hair in tangled curls beneath his hat pulled low, eyes all sunk like he ain’t been sleeping, hands shaking. he’s glancing at the door, restless, squeezing one trembling hand around the little bottle in his palm.

medicine, jack realises suddenly.

something os won’t take, morris knows. he won’t take any medicine, swears it’s what took pa, and morris don’t often try to push the issue but oscar’s been bad, especially the last few days. can’t even get out of bed now. wiesel’s getting mad, and morris is tired, hungry, scared. he wants oscar better. wishes he knew what to do. almost wishes he could ask kelly - he’s got a lot of brothers, always seems like he knows what to do, surely must know what to do if any of his boys get sick - but morris can’t do that any more than he can ask the chemist he stole from.

jack’s talking more, morris thinks. he ain’t listening, can’t process a bit of it. it’s like he’s in another room.

“you gon’ call th’bulls on me?” morris finally manages to ask, stilted, cutting off jack mid-word without even realising. he doesn’t care anyway. he doesn’t like jack. he just wants to leave, wants to get back to oscar.

and jack ain’t stupid, despite what plenty people might think. he’s got brains enough to put together the puzzle of oscar delancey disappearing and morris delancey stealing medicine. and brains enough to understand and take advantage of morris clearly not caring about the stuff clearly shoved in jack’s pockets.

“you go get your brother better,” jack tells him, “i still got scores to settle with ‘im.”

morris needs no more encouragement. he disappears out the door, head bowed, back hunched.

it’s weeks later that jack sees oscar. it’s a different store - jack ain’t stupid enough to target the same place twice in a row. and maybe oscar got told by morris which store he used last time, because he’s here now too and this time it’s oscar with his pockets stuffed. his trouser pockets and the pockets of his woollen work coat are swollen with food, he looks like he’s got some socks or something stuffed up his sleeve. jack wonders if maybe he’s got some medicine too, because this time jack does - it’s all he’s got this time. sniper’s been hacking and wheezing.

“fancy seein’ you here,” jack says, just to be obnoxious. oscar bares his teeth, snarling like a dog, but he’s quiet and still.

“we’se even,” oscar tells him lowly. he only elaborates when jack gives him a confused look. “las’ time. mo told me ‘bout your little run-in. you kept it quiet then. so don’ squeal now either an’ we won’t have no issues.”

“what, we got a deal?” jack huffs, laughing, looking around the apparent no man’s land of the general store. an innocuous space where the delanceys won’t be themselves for once. “this a truce?”

oscar don’t laugh.

“i know what it’s like to be a big brother,” he forces out. jack stops laughing too, the bottle of medicine suddenly feeling heavier in his hand. “so you go home, an’ you get your brothers better. an’ i’ll get mine fed. an’ we both forget we saw each other here.”

oscar glances pointedly at jack’s pockets like his own ain’t filled to bursting, but jack supposes it makes sense when it’d been the reverse the last time. morris’d probably exaggerated it too, made it sound like jack was robbing the place blind.

“i don’ like you,” jack tells him. “an’ your brother neither.”

“i’on like you,” oscar says right back. “so we’se even. an’ hopefully we won’ never see each other again outside a’ work.”

jack knows there are only so many stores within their very specific radius to steal from.

“see you at work,” he says instead of saying that, bidding oscar off with a two-finger salute and a grin. oscar glares and goes, straightening himself up and walking with the intent to scare.

jack glances at the medicine in his pocket once he’s gone. the same kind - near enough - as morris’d been stealing that night. must be decent stuff, if it got oscar back to this.

jack takes it.

[rickie-the-storyteller]

Get To Know My OC Tag!

This'll probably be the first of many since this was sooo much fun to do lol.

I was going to do this with Steph… but I felt more drawn towards El today for some reason. Probably because I've been editing a lot more of her scenes/chapters lately. So Elise, I choose you!

Thank you for tagging me, @gummybugg!

Let's begin!

__________

The door opens, and 18-year-old Elise Kennedy enters the room. She walks with graceful strides that indicates the quiet confidence she holds within her. She is a pretty girl - long wavy blonde hair styled in a messy bun, crystal clear blue eyes sparkling with joy and curiosity (despite being baggy from that high school stress and sleep deprivation), and a bright beaming smile that honestly does a better job of lighting up the room than my terrible cheap lamp does. She appears to be about 5'6, if I'm not wrong.

She extends a hand in greeting, radiating an immediate sense of warmth and sincerity. Her voice, I notice straight away is soft warm and gentle. It carries an undertone enough to put you at ease in an instant. Then she takes her seat.

I know I've only just met her, but she seems nice.

1) Are you named after anyone?

Elise: Uh, no. Not after a person, I don't think. Although, I do know how I got my name. My late grandmother was really into classical music, and she came up with the suggestion of "Elise" for me when I was born because one of her favourite pieces of music was "Für Elise" by Beethoven. When I was little, she actually taught me how to play it on the piano, too! That was a fun time… yeah. But to answer your question, no. Not that I know of.

2) When was the last time you cried?

Elise: I don't know… hmm, let me think. This is actually a deep question when you think about it.

Me: It is??

Elise: Wait! Do you mean, like proper crying? Bawling like a baby? Or do you mean like welling up, but not actually making a sound?

Me: Uh…

Elise: If you mean the first one, then probably last week. I was watching a really sad movie with my brother, and I just couldn't help it. If you mean the second one, then… I don't know. To be honest, it happens on a regular basis. So probably yesterday or something. I try not to be overly emotional all the time, but I'm a sensitive soul, what can I say? (pause) OH! I remember now!

Me: You do?

Elise: It was two weeks ago! Ok, let me explain - I have this friend who really loves music. His name is Bret, and something he likes to do as a hobby is write and produce his own songs, right? And two weeks ago, he sent me an email with a link to his SoundCloud. He posts all his songs there now, its amazing! Anyway, he asked me for feedback on the first song he uploaded on there. So I listened to it, and it made me cry. It was very deep and moving. I loved it… (laughs awkwardly) I feel like my answers are way too long, ha-ha! Sorry about that.

Me: Don't be sorry. This is good!

Elise: I'll send you a link to Bret's SoundCloud! You need to listen to it yourself, so you know what I'm talking about.

Me: Would your friend mind?

Elise: Uh… (pauses for a while to wonder whether or not Bret would actually mind) Probably not?

3) Do you have kids?

Elise: Uh, no. Nor do I want any - at least not right now. I'm still a school kid! (pause) I know I'm 18, so legally I count as an adult, but I still feel like a kid, honestly. And I think that just as a general rule, if you feel like a kid or act like a kid, you probably shouldn't raise a kid.

4) Do you use sarcasm?

Elise: (thinks for a moment, then nods) Yeah. Not as often as some people do, but sometimes it's just necessary, especially when you're dealing with difficult or incompetent people.

5) What's the first thing you notice about people?

Elise: I feel like I'm naturally quite good at reading people, you know? Like, even with people I don't know all that well, I can just look at them and have a good idea of how they're feeling, what their thinking, what they're like. And it's usually pretty accurate, as well. I'm quite intuitive in that sense. I think this is also the reason I connect well with others even if they're very different from me. Like, I'm an introvert, and I'm generally rather quiet and mind my own business most of the time, but quite a lot of my friends are super energetic extroverted people. I think its fun to be curious, you know? Like, taking the time to understand and empathise with a person. You form closer bonds with people that way.

6) What's your eye colour?

Elise: Blue! You see? (opens eyes wide so that I can see their colour)

7) Any special talents?

Elise: Hmm. I don't know if any of my talents count as "special" or anything. I have talents… like, back when I used to perform in my old choir, I was known for being able to hold notes for really, really long. My record back then was like 47 seconds. But it's been years since then, and I probably can't do it anymore. Anything else? (pauses to think for a second) Don't know whether this counts, but I'm really good at memorising things. My brother says I have a memory sharper than a katana… which I think says everything you need to know about him. (laughs) But like, to give an example, I can read a book and basically be able to quote it word for word afterwards. Or watch a show, and be able to recite every line in a given scene. It's quite helpful as a student, actually. Makes the studying process a bit smoother. Not that I don't work hard for my grades, because I do. I don't consider myself to be a mega-super-genius or anything.

8) Scary movies or happy endings?

Elise: Are you kidding me?! Happy ending all the way! I can't sit through a horror movie for the life of me. I hate scary stuff, I just don't like the feeling of terror. I don't get why some people actually like it. I mean some people have to like it, right? There has to be a reason that the horror genre has a market.

9) Where were you born?

Elise: Born and raised in London, baby!

10) What are your hobbies?

Elise: Reading, first of all. I love to read so much. I always have.

Me: What is the book you're reading currently?

Elise: Right now, I'm re-reading "Normal People" by Sally Rooney. It's so good, I highly recommend it. But aside from reading, I like music a lot. Not as much as Bret, but I love to play a bit of piano whenever I have the time, and I also love to sing still. Even though I'm not in my old choir anymore.

Me: Why did you stop if you clearly loved doing it?

Elise: (sighs) It was a toxic environment for me… I needed a break from some of those people. I don't really want to get into it.

Me: Ooookay… (slightly concerned)

11) Do you have any pets?

Elise: No, and I've always wanted one! (pouts) It didn't even matter what it was! My parents aren't about that, though. Ugh! (pause) Maybe in the future, I'll get a puppy. I love dogs so much!

12) What sports do you play/have played?

Elise: None. (laughs) I've never been a sporty person.

13) How tall are you?

Elise: Five foot five. And a bit, depending on what shoes I'm wearing.

14) Favourite subject in school?

Elise: These questions are getting harder… (laughs) I don't know what my favourite subject is. I like all my subjects… I chose four subjects I really enjoy for A level. English Lit, Politics, History and Textiles. I like all of them for different reasons. Even when I struggle with one of them, and it is my least favourite one day, I can't bring myself to hate it… and it ends up being my favourite subject the next day.

Me: Well, tell me why you like all of your subjects.

Elise: Ok! So English Lit is because I love literature, as you may have inferred before from what I said about reading… Politics is because I just find that aspect of the world interesting, you know? I mean, I never used to, but once I started taking this class, I just found it fascinating. Just seeing how that stuff works. History was my strongest subject back when I did my GCSEs, so I was like "I have to do it again next year!" And Textiles… I don't know, I just find it peaceful. It's a chill subject to balance out the crazy intense ones. (laughs again)

15) Dream job?

Elise: In my dreams, I have all kinds of different jobs. Just last night I had a dream that I was this therapist, right, and all of my friends from work were coming into my office to ask for help with their love lives, despite the fact that I literally have no dating experience and am therefore the least qualified person to ask for help in that department. Man… why would you even go to your therapist just to ask about your love life anyway? Is that the only thing in your life that's bothering you?! The ONLY thing?!

Me: …That's not what I meant.

Elise: Yeah, I know. I just wanted to talk about my weird dream for a second. I don't know what my dream job is. As a child, my dream job was to be an author, like Cressida Cowell. I used to love her books growing up. I wanted to write just like her… create this huge epic fantasy series… have that series get turned into movies… but I couldn't come up with any original ideas. So I gave up.

Me: Awww…

Elise: Oh, it's okay. I still write a bit sometimes for fun. But in terms of an actual career, I'm stuck between two things - a lawyer, and a journalist.

Me: Two completely different things.

Elise: Yep. Lawyer because it's something I've been working towards all my life, pretty much. I mainly did it because my parents always said that it's a promising career to have. But journalism is just so fascinating to me. It's like being a writer, except you don't need to come up with original ideas. Plus, you get to explore the world, discover exciting new people and places and cultures and events… and tell stories that don't often get heard. It's like the career was made for me!

Me: It does, doesn't it? Well, I'm sure you'll make the right choice for yourself. Thanks for coming, Elise. This has been fun.

Elise: Of course! Thank you for having me.

END OF INTERVIEW.

__________

This was so much fun! I want to make this an open tag, but I'll just tag these three people to give it a go as well:

@rubywrite

@soph1333

@winterandwords

[amajorartattack]

My General ROTTMNT Donatello Headcanons:

- He’s the tallest at 6′6″, alright. Like the longer neck of a softshell turtle my guys, is what gives him the height over Raph, if he didn’t have the long neck, he’d be the second tallest. - Longer snoot, not always able to see on forward facing shots cuz of perspective. His brothers always boop it, and when they first started doing so it annoyed him to all hell and back, but he’s used to it now.      - Sometimes presses his nose against his brothers, Splinter, or April, to show his affection (Kinda like a headbutt...kinda.) - He often paints his nails, usually purple, or black. But he’s painted them other colors, usually they would be some variant of blue, orange, or red. - Alright, I saw a post...pin thing on Pinterest, and it was where Leo and Donnie had heterochromia, and shared one of the colors, and I absotively posilutely loved it. So yes, he has heterochromia, and shares the red with Leo.      - Also fucking Disaster Twins my beloveds. - Unable to control when his tail wags, but it usually happens when he’s working on something and it’s all coming together, when he’s proud of himself or others, or excited for something. - The fastest swimmer of all of them, and likes to swim, especially when he was younger. - Gamer Boi (yes I know this is technically canon, but.) He streams, and makes videos of him gaming, and there has been many Donnie rage compilations going around (totally not made by Leo) - When he was younger he rarely spoke, and when he did everyone made sure to be quiet and let him do so. - When he gets really overwhelmed, he rarely speaks, or goes completely non-verbal. - Is the second best artist, he needs to be able to draw up designs for his tech, this is one of the main ways that him and Mikey bond. This also is a way that he can communicate if goes non-verbal. - Huge horror fan, especially in game form, but still absolutely gets scared. But that’s the point of it. - Overworks himself, and stays up very late. He has insomnia, but doesn’t always do anything to help with it.       - Splinter has gotten him melatonin gummies, that are safe for Donnie to consume, and he has them in a drawer by his bed. (It’s still a little more than half full.) He only eats them if he’s unable to sleep when he’s already in bed. - He is genuinely great with kids, but claims to not like them. He has said this while a kid was doing it’s damnedest to use Donnie as a jungle-gym, and he did pretty much nothing to stop it.      - Like; April: Donnie, you should come help me with work at *insert random restaurant that is catered to kids*, it’ll be fun.        Donnie (letting a kid mess with his claws): Now why would I do that? I don’t like kids.        April: You’re-but. EH?! - He is the older twin, and has used it to his advantages against Leo. He’s like two minutes older. - For as much as he likes pizza, his favorite food is actually ramen, especially seafood ramen. He knows all of the ramen places in New York, and has them labeled from best to worst. (He cries a little inside whenever he sees that the top most best place is closed.) - Knows all new slang, but chooses to not say it, or claims to say it ironically. Also has more than likely created a new slang word without knowing. - Woops ass in Mario Kart, and always plays as Bowser. Claims he’s the best character to play as because of his high speed stats, even if he has a lower acceleration stat. - Honestly to me, this guy is Demisexual/romantic, he’s gotta be able to trust and feel trust before making any claims about a relationship. - Genderfluid, most often he feels like he’s a guy, and uses he/him pronouns. - Also wears contacts, and if he doesn't have any (even though he typically always keeps a good stock of them,) he wears glasses. - Connecting the 7th and 11th lil hc thing, Donnie does not stream or record videos of himself playing horror games, because he knows that his brothers will see them, and he doesn’t want his videos to be the source of any of their nightmares.

(Imma more than likely just add onto this when I think of more shit to add. This is mainly because I posted this at 4 am, and I was really tired, and so now that I’m more awake I’m thinking of other things to add.)

[perfumetm]

[  SONG KANG,  THIRTY,  CIS MAN,  HE/HIM  ]  and  now  walking  on  the  red  carpet  is  DAEYONG  “DEAN”  KWON,  we’re  honored  to  be  in  the  presents  of  a  world  class  MODEL/FILM ACTOR.  they  say  that  they’re  the  embodiment  of  CARRY ON WAYWARD SON  by  KANSAS,  we  can’t  argue  with  that  one  !  rumor  has  it  that  they’re  RESENTFUL  and  ALTRUISTIC.  we  often  hear  fans  online  compare  them  to  FOUND FAMILY, CLOTHES BEING COVERED IN CAT HAIR (HAVING A LINT ROLLER IN HANDY), A SOFTNESS IN THEIR EYES, & SLEEPING DURING THE DAY FROM ROAMING EMPTY STREETS LATE AT NIGHT.  we  heard  that  there’s  this  one  thing  they  don’t  wish  anybody  to  know;  HIS PARENTS ARE DOING EVERYTHING THEY CAN TO TEAR HIM DOWN (WHETHER IT HURTS HIM PHYSICALLY, EMOTIONALLY, OR NOT),  let’s  hope  it’s  not  true  !  [  FRANKIE;  27,  SHE/HER,  CST.  ]

BASICS  !

FULL NAME.          DAE-YONG  KWON     ⧽     권 대용 NICKNAME(S).          DEAN AGE.          30  YEARS  OLD DATE OF BIRTH.          SEPTEMBER  4TH ASTROLOGICAL SIGN.          VIRGO PLACE OF BIRTH.          JEJU  ISLAND,  SOUTH  KOREA HOMETOWN.          LONDON,  ENGLAND ORIENTATION.          BISEXUAL  &  BIROMANTIC GENDER & PRONOUNS.          CIS  MAN  &  HE ┊ HIM ┊ HIS NATIONALITY.          KOREAN-ENGLISH ETHNICITY.          KOREAN  —  (  EAST  ASIAN  ) RELIGION.          ATHEIST SPOKEN LANGUAGES.          KOREAN &  ENGLISH RELATIONSHIP STATUS.          SINGLE  PRINGLE CURRENT LOCATION.          LONDON,  UK,  ENGLAND OCCUPATION.          MODEL  &  FILM  ACTOR FACE CLAIM.          SONG  KANG

SYNOPSIS !

DAEYONG KWON WAS BORN & RAISED IN SOUTH KOREA. a model since his infancy (more like the family’s cash cow 👀) - dean has always had a CUTE AND HANDSOME face ever since he could babble, and that would get him booked endlessly. guess we could say he’s been working for as long as he can remember.

IN TERMS OF SCHOOL, he graduated from high school (12th year) and went on to university to graduate with a degree in film at the age of twenty-one. daeyong managed to graduate early because he continued his classes either online or in-person—to get school out of the way/over with—during the summer.

SINCE HE’S BEEN MODELING FOR THE LONGEST TIME, he’s been able to do runway and walk for prestigious fashion designers across the globe - be it in new york, milan, paris, or wherever, he’s happy to walk and bring light to those big or small. he knows that some people gravitate towards him / has a level of power to bring attention to whatever means A LOT to him. but he means well !

THIS KID DOESN’T HAVE A BAD BONE IN HIS BODY. he’s the Softest Boi™ on the planet and a little too pure (well, not that pure) for his own good. he’s too kind sometimes and maybe he knows that often people use his kindness against him, but he simply does not care at the same time. his parents, on the other hand, are something else. unfortunately.

HE’S BEEN ABLE TO SURROUND HIMSELF WITH GOOD PEOPLE, anyhow. he has a good heart and is grateful for those around him, especially a particular handful — his friend group, to be exact, whom he chooses to keep close to his ‹3 [heart]. no matter how busy life can get, dean’s the one (1) friend who will be there for you through thick and thin.

AFTER BEING IN SEVERAL FILMS, he still considers himself a rookie actor despite making a name for himself outside of modeling. daeyong feels like he hasn’t gotten on a level that he’s always strived for and has so much to learn.

THE MIDDLE CHILD OF HIS FAMILY. well, sort of? daeyong has an older sibling and two (2) younger siblings—the 4th is less than 8teen years old. in his mother & father’s eyes, dean’s the only one that could do wrong? while his siblings don’t? he is estranged from his parents but not from his siblings. it’s the messiest situation and he loathes it. doesn’t talk about his parents at all and never brings them up in conversations either.

TRIES TO KEEP HIS PRIVATE LIFE AWAY FROM PRYING EYES. dude is so quiet sometimes; you might think he’s an orphan or something. he might as well be with how his parents are acting. there have been rumors here and there, but he doesn’t bother saying a word, clearing the air, nothing. daeyong really tries to keep his life as mysterious as possible. even if he’s the most endearing boy on the planet.

FOR A SUPPOSED ROOKIE (in his own words), daeyong feels like he has a lot of potential in the acting world, even if he’s just a boy with a pretty face. he has only been in a few handful of flicks and chooses them carefully, but isn’t too fearful to venture out of his comfort zone. he finds auditions to be incredibly exhilarating but also nerve-wracking. he’s an odd boy with mood swings, let’s be honest.

i’ve never been able to write mean characters (afab/men specifically), so please accept and love my sweet / soft boi with open arms... because i’ve got nothing else to say.

WANTED CONNECTIONS !

mentor (???!!!)

ex-girlfriend or current (something cute for once, maybe? or angsty? fluff?)

will they, won’t they (might be fun, i don’t know)

pr relationship

fellow model acquaintances (they’ve walked the runway together??)

siblings (!!!! but i think i’ll send a wc to the main?)

a cousin or two (these connections are so underrated)

mother/father figure

travel buddies

anything atp !