#i have like little skits between them sitting in the back of my head

[flowerakatsuka]

i don't focus on totoko nearly as much as i should, especially when it comes to her friendship with kuroba. like kuro's not afraid to be blunt with her and give it to her straight, ( which scares the shit out of the sextuplets whenever they do it around them. ) but they're also not immune to cute, evil woman and will let her get away with stuff bc they think it's funny when she wrecks havoc.

[oh-koenig-my-koenig]

concert, part 2

part 1 | part 2 | (cw: age gap 25/41, nsfw smut)

The concert is a fucking blast. König and I are headbanging in unison to the songs blaring from the speakers and I love seeing the wild expression on his face. It’s exactly how I imagined it. Lorna Shore is also an amazing live experience, my god. I think I’m gonna have a bunch more lines on my face because every breakdown is bringing out my stank face.

Most of the concert goes well, without any incidents. Most of it.

If it wasn’t for the guy who almost knocked me off my feet running past us to the moshpit. König catches me when I topple over, his hands grabbing my waist and pulling me up again. The look on his face as he stares down the guy that just shoots a little “sorry” in my direction is downright abysmal that for a moment even I get a bit scared.

And I grab his arm putting my whole body weight on it when I see that he wants to go after the guy. “König, please, I’m fine.”, I shout at him, pulling on his arm to get his attention on me.

He stops, turns around and leans down, coming face to face with me. His eyes search it for any indication that would go against my claim, his hand cupping my cheek, the thumb softly caressing just once. And I just want him to do it again.

“I swear, I’m fine, it happens. I’m not made of glass.”, I explain to him and do a little dancydancy to demonstrate that my limbs are still working.

That pulls a little chuckle from him and he finally relaxes. Nodding, pulling back, and then he straightens back up, re-taking his position right behind me like my own personal bodyguard. And I lean into him again, shamelessly so, somebody might even call it ‘snuggling into him’.

I’m feeling touchy and I maybe would have had a guilty conscience if he didn’t do the same. His hand skimming over my naked arm, him pulling me against him when somebody pushes past us again. His big burly arms framing me. And it feels good. Oh, so good.

Luckily the heavy music blasting from the speakers is distracting me from the attractive man at my side, so I can keep some of my sanity while I try and tell myself that this totally is just two strangers going to a concert and not at all a date. Mh-mh, not a date.

I push those thoughts away and will myself to stay in the moment and let the music carry me away. I’m already getting tired and sweaty from all the jumping, shouting and moshing I’ve been doing, but also the concert is slowly but surely coming to an end.

I jump up a bit, going on my tiptoes, but I can’t see the band members on stage through the sea of bodies in front of me. König leans down, one of his hands on my shoulder.

“Everything okay?”, he asks me, loud against the noise, his breath skitting over the shell of my ear, and I ignore the tickling feeling that this elicits.

I turn to him speaking into his ear as well. “I don’t see anything.”, I complain to him. “But this is my favourite song.”

“You wanna sit on my shoulders? I bet you’d have a better view from up there.”, he suggests, patting said shoulders. They do look like a very comfy seat. Or a comfy leg rest. *cough cough* Get yourself together and the mind out of the gutter, I tell myself.

“Uh, sure.”, I say, totally not sure how this will work. He pulls his hair to the side and just leans down a bit, hoists me up at my waist and places me on his right shoulder. He holds up his hands and I grab them as I reposition myself, slinging my leg over the other shoulder, so that my thighs are now resting on both of them.

I didn’t factor in that I’m only wearing a skirt. The fabric is bunched up, which means that there are only the two thin layers of my panties and my tights between his neck and my pussy. Great. Just peachy.

His hands grab my thighs, his fingers digging into me, holding me steady and save. I’m so high up, so I can see everything, but right now my attention and more importantly the attention of my body is on the man whose head is between my thighs – so to speak.

“All good?”, he shouts up at me and I shout back a “yes”. Holding onto his head, making sure not to pull on his hair. But I can’t ignore the way it feels silkily smooth underneath my fingertips. I resist the urge to run my fingers through it and focus on the concert going on in front of me, joining in the refrain of ‘Dancing like Flames’.

And so the 'Pain Remains' Trilogy plays out with me on his shoulders experiencing the end of the concert with maybe the best seat in the house.

“Did you have fun?”, he asks as we leave the venue.

I’m doing double time on my steps to keep up with his long strides and the adrenaline from the concert still coursing through my veins turns my almost running into skipping along. “Yes, I did.”, I say smiling up at him.

A cold gust of wind blows through the street and a shiver runs down my spine which makes me slow down and cross my arms in front of my body.

“Wait, here, have my jacket.”, he says, slowing down as well, already putting the worn leather onto my shoulders.

I pull the piece of clothing tighter around me, getting enveloped in his scent while the smooth fabric of the inner lining skims against my skin. “Thanks.” We’re making our way to the car and he opens the door for me again, just like he did before.

“So, do you feel like you kept up with me today?”, I ask him then, a sly smile forming on my lips. He shoots me a look, an intense one, before he closes the car door. The look alone should have totally shut me up. But it doesn’t.

“So, how does it feel to still be out past your bedtime, old man?”, I continue as he climbs into the driver’s seat.

He doesn’t even look at me while he puts the seatbelt on and pushes the key into the ignition. “I’m glad you were more well behaved when we were at the concert.”, he says, a light gravel in his voice. A sound that does stuff to me. A sound that makes me brave and stupid.

"Do you know what a brat is?", I ask him and amusement paints my voice. I’m enjoying this way too much right now. Teasing him in person is so much better than over text.

He fully sideeyes me, pulling up one of his brows, then he turns his head to look at me. His gaze is heated, but I can see the restraint in it as well. He slowly tilts his head to the side and at the same pace the grin on my face falters, melting away. The hairs in my neck are starting to stand up and I have to suppress a shiver of excitement. From him just looking at me like I'm prey, someone to chase down, someone to devour.

"I'm familiar with the concept.", he says nonchalantly, leaning a bit towards me, when one of the corners of his mouth tips up. "Do you know what a brat tamer is?", he asks, smirking at me. And my brain short-circuits. My jaw drops, my chin is on the floor, figuratively speaking.

He laughs, short and darkly, as I'm still recovering from the sentence he just dropped. He straightens back up and fiddles with the ignition until the car starts.

"Sit up straight and put your seatbelt on for me, Liebes.", he says, his voice getting all authoritative. The tone makes my spine stiffen up and I do as he told me. He laughs again, seeing how I'm following his orders, when he shifts the car into gear. Without even looking at me, he drawls: "Good girl.", and I fold like a goddamn lawn chair. The little sigh dropping from my lips telling him (and me) exactly how this is making me feel.

He doesn't say anything, so I glance at him while he pulls onto the street. The smirk on his face is cocky and self-indulgent, his hair is still swept to one side and my god, the jawline with the scruff 5 o'clock shadow is doing stuff to me. The mental image forming in my head is so not safe for work.

Me splayed out on the bed, my front to the mattress. Him kneeling over me, his knees framing my ass as he's buried balls deep in my pussy. His strong hands have a tight grip on me, pushing me down into the soft sheets while he fucks me deep and slow, his hair whipping back and forth when his hips snap forward, his groin pressing up against the soft pillows of my ass repeatedly. Praise is falling from his lips, telling me that I'm his good girl, that I'm doing so well for him, that I feel so fucking good while his hand spanks my booty, alternating between my left and right cheek, reddening the skin with every slap.

His chuckle, the real König chuckling at me while driving, is pulling me from my dirty daydream and I can't help the blush forming on my cheeks. "Now where did you just drift off to?", he asks me.

"Nowhere.", I say, trying to deflect.

"Uh-huh.", he pulls up his brows, totally not believing me.

“Well, what did you expect when you told me-“ I lower my voice and mumble: “that you’re a brat tamer…” That pulls a laugh from him, a sound I’m already addicted to.

“You mean like when you told me that you’re a little brat?”, he throws back at me. “Two can play that game, Fräulein.”

I tilt my head to the side, but I can’t argue with that. “Touché.” I feel like we just dipped our toes into some unchartered territory that made everything a little bit more sexual than it already was, a little clearer where this is headed – probably sooner than later. Because even if we keep making jokes and bringing up our age difference (which I still think isn’t that bad), I can feel the pull of attraction towards him. And with the way he keeps looking at me, I’m sure he feels the same way.

We were flirty in our texts and we were touchy all evening. I remember the way my thighs hugged his neck when I sat on his shoulders. How his fingers dug into the pillowy flesh, holding me tight.

The way his arms closed around me, shielding me off from the people around us. Me shamelessly leaning into him, relishing the way his body feels against mine. How I felt safe at the concert with him as my personal bodyguard.

And every single thing heightened the feeling of need, of want, of desire that was already there when I saw him sitting at that table at the pub.

I try to hold off from squirming in my seat, having a hard time keeping my cool, especially when my eyes wander to him all the time while driving. How his knees almost graze the steering wheel, the way his knuckles strain when he grips it. His hair falling over the side of his face. The tattoos, the shirt he got hugging his biceps just the right way, just… every single detail.

I spend the ride home trying to keep my thoughts holy, but I can’t. His image and my imagination don’t seem to mix well.

He pulls up to my apartment complex, parking the car and turning the engine off, but he keeps the sound system running. He turns to me and the sentence I wanted to say gets stuck in my throat. I wanted to thank him for taking me to the concert, making me feel safe. Very obviously going out of his own comfort zone to accommodate me. Even when we still didn’t know each other for that long.

But the way he’s looking at me shuts me up before I can start talking. His gaze is intense, just like before and the effect is all the same. And I can’t tear my eyes from him, drinking him in.

“Don’t look at me like that.”, he says, not breaking eyecontact.

I bat my eyelashes at him, feigning nonchalance. “Like what?”

A little growl drops from his lips and the sound sends a wave of need between my legs. Like I even needed more of that. He leans a bit forward, inching closer and closer. “Like you want me to do something about this tension between us.”, he whispers, low and darkly.

“Maybe I do want that.”, I answer and he doesn’t need more encouragement than that.

His hands grab my face, his fingers tangle in my hair, and he presses his lips onto mine. His hold on me is soft, but the kiss is fiery. And for the first time I can really feel that he wants me as desperately as I want him.

I grab him, his t-shirt, pulling him against me. I can feel his broad chest under my fingertips, the warmth of his body, the hard muscles that I also was snuggled up against before. His leatherjacket falls from my shoulders and pools around my hips.

“Fuck.”, he grunts against my lips, letting one hand drop down to push the car seat back. He pulls me with him, onto his lap, my thighs spreading over it. His hand brushes down my back as his mouth finds mine once more to kiss me, feverish, demanding, needy. And I answer it with the same fervor, brushing my tongue against his, moaning as I taste him for the first time. The flavour of beer that we both drank cutting through his own scent.

He grabs my ass cheek, squeezing it through the fabric of my skirt and the touch is making me squirm in his lap, grinding onto him. I feel his hard length against me, straining against his jeans, my tights and panties not really being a barrier as I roll my hips, relishing the feeling of the fabric on my wetness. The feeling of his dick right underneath me.

“Do you wanna come upstairs?”, I breathe against his lips. I almost add that I don’t want to give my neighbors a show, but that seems to be a little on the nose.

He pulls my head back a bit, his eyes searching mine and I can see the unbridled lust in them. Other than that, it seems like he’s exercising restraint, stopping the movement of my hips on his lap. “If we do that, we’re gonna fuck.”, he states matter-of-factly.

His words colour my cheeks red. “I guess so.” is all I manage to say because the imagination alone is already making me hotter than I was before.

His gaze flits between my right and left eye, back and forth, like the answers are already pouring out of them. “Are you sure you want this?”, he asks softly.

I break eyecontact and nod because this whole interaction is making me shy all of a sudden. The brattiness is gone.

His hand that was still tangled in my hair strokes down the side of my face until his fingers grab my chin and turn it up, to make me look at him again. “Use your words, Liebes. Do you want me to fuck you?”, he rewords his question.

My breath halts in my throat and for a moment my mind goes completely blank. I just stare at him, swallowing down the nervousness I feel. “Yes.”, I answer him, my voice steadier than I would have expected.

He pulls up one of his eyebrows, looking at me like he’s expecting something more, the serious expression on his face turning heated and cocky.

“Please.”, I whisper which earns me a satisfied growl as he captures my lips again. The kiss is sloppier than the ones before, he bites my lower lip which sends a zap of pleasure right to my core and makes me moan against his lips some more.

He pulls back a little bit, his hot mouth pressing small pecks to my cheek and down to my neck, all while scooping me up and opening up the car door. He presses me flush against him as he gets out the car with me in his grasp, making sure I don’t bump my head on the car frame.

My arms wrap around his neck, my fingers digging into his shoulder, holding onto him, my thighs resting against his hips, while he locks the car and just uses one arm to steady me, like I weigh nothing. Well, to him I probably don’t.

Determination in his step, he approaches the building and I dig into my little bag with one hand to get the keys to my flat.

part 4

~ or More Stuff in the Masterlist ~

[shinyous]

[TWS:CLUB] Overcoming Summer #2 | EP.9

pairing: tws x 7th! female member (platonic)

synopsis: the members get to enjoy themselves on some water rides after playing the board game, let's hope no one gets motion sickness . . .

A/N: honestly not sure how i feel about this one, i rewrote it a couple of times but i might just delete it later idk ಥ﹏ಥ

y/n is an 03 liner ! most, if not all my scenarios will have y/n as an 03 liner since i am too and it's easier to write for someone the same age as me lol

the member's excitedly end the board game, running to go get on any water ride they can with the tickets they won.

"and so we brought our tickets to go on rides."

"let's decide what to get on?"

"first... we'll use three sets of five tickets for the three of us to ride the water thanos" kyungmin explains.

as kyungmin explains which ones they've decided to try, y/n thinks about which one to get on first.

"can you even get on one?" kyungmin provokes the red team, y/n playfully side-eyeing the youngest.

"i'll see you at the dorm later kyungmin!" y/n points at the boy, who gives her a playful smile in return.

"so we are going to get on the flyfish." youngjae explains, y/n doing a little happy dance — standing in between shinyu and hanjin.

the red team watched from the dock as the blue team goes on the water thanos ride.

"honestly, i don't know if i could go on that." y/n mumbles, watching the boat begin to back away from the dock.

"why?" shinyu turns to her, watching as she begins to rub her stomach.

"i think i'd throw up. i feel like the motion sickness would hit me so hard." y/n's face scrunching up even at the thought of it happening. "but if the three of you want to do it that's fine, i can watch from here."

"you don't want to get on?" jihoon turns to her, a pout beginning to form on his face.

"not unless you want me to throw up on you." and jihoon immediately recoils, exaggeratedly shaking his head no making y/n burst out laughing.

"but if you feel sick at all tell us so we can tell the staff and get you medicine." he responds, making y/n coo, pinching his cheek teasingly.

"what a caring younger brother!" "let go!"

"i think i'll be fine doing on this one." the red team decided to get on their ride, the extreme rocket.

cue the video cutting to them going fast and y/n screaming at the top of her lungs in excitement.

"this is so fun!!"

once it end, the members seeming to have enjoyed themselves. then the camera pans to the dock floor where y/n is laying holding her stomach.

"just give me a minute!"

the video cut to y/n standing and waving at the member's as they get on the water thanos ride. turning to the camera, she dissapointedly shakes her head.

"if you easily get motion sickness, maybe don't get on the fast, bumpy rides. our 42 needs to be careful."

and now it was time to eat!

"it's time to eat!" y/n nearly sprints to the table when she see's everything they have.

y/n sits beside hanjin, eagerly waiting to start eating. once youngjae and jihoon left to go make ramen, she began to dive into the food.

midway through biting her pizza, a churro comes into her view. hanjin hold's it out to her, "do you want?"

she nods, leaning forward as he feeds her the churro. "sorry i couldn't go on the water thanos or flying fish with you all. i wasn't expecting to feel so sick after one ride."

"it's not your fault!! but next time you have to go on it, i'll drag you on." y/n laughs at kyungmin's resolution, looking forward to trying the ride in the future.

"you're eating all on your own." kyungmin says to shinyu.

"you look so lonely right now." dohoon adds.

"want to come over here?" "want to join us?"

and kyungmin immediately turned it into a skit. "how old are you?"

"i'm 22." shinyu responds, going along with it.

"oh? me too!" y/n says.

"that's old." dohoon mumbles.

"excuse me?" "nothing!" "that's what i thought."

"y/n is there anything you want to do?"

"maybe, camping? i think we could do fun cooking challenges or games." the members nodding in agreement.

"or a baking challenge?"

"oh! maybe you can judge whatever we bake." youngjae suggests.

"we could make cakes or cookies!" jihoon adds.

"do i have to taste them?"

"you have no faith in us?" "of course... not!"

eventually the member's finished their food, feeling extra full after devouring everything.

"let's go." "hey call a cab." "thank you for the meal."

as all the members leave, y/n stays behind. she sneakily grabs the box with leftover boneless chicken.

"i'll be eating this later!"

[animehouse-moe]

Skip and Loafer Episode 6: Drizzling and Flickering

Well, six episodes in and we've finally got our first proper conflict in the story. I'm not at all disappointed or anything that we're this far in and getting it, rather I feel like it's a really great spot to place it. Talks of love and relationships, becoming aware of the social aspect of high school, the stress of exams looming on the horizon. It's a really great point to break things down and take a look at how things need to change.

And change they do. We start with Fumi gushing about having a crush at school, which completely catches Mitsumi off guard. It's a really simple thing, but having these characters at different stages in their social and romantic lives at high school is really great, and goes to show that different people progress at different paces. Both sides of the conversation are really cute though, and are a nice and fluffy way to get into the episode.

Moving forward, the comedy of the episode wastes no time rearing its head, and continues to land rather well. Whether it's visual effects to add to a character's demeanor, or an entirely delusional dream skit, it gets done what it sets out to do: get a laugh out of viewers.

Coming back to reality though, I really love how much the rest of the school is forcing Mitsumi to become aware of Shima Kun. She prefers him as the guy that reminds her of her family's dog, not the popular child movie actor that one in three girls has confessed to. It's really great seeing how they use pieces like this play into Mitsumi's comparative lack of social awareness. They're slowly but surely whittling away at that innocence and lack of understanding, and shaping her into a Tokyo high school student. Of course, more to come on that later.

And now we arrive at the main event: Shima and Mitsumi's spat. By all means, it's a very trivial little argument between the pair, but it really feels as dramatic and tense as a high schooler would think it is. There's a really great balance to that end, in that the argument is just the right amount of dramatic without stretching itself too thin. There's not a huge amount of yelling or animosity towards one another or anything either. It's just, both Shima and Mitsumi have been tense lately, and struggling in their own ways. Mitsumi had the catalyst of people spreading rumors about Shima that put her on edge, and Shima was still harboring feelings about that first time he met Mitsumi. Together it creates a pot that finally boils over, and it's a really well done piece.

Also, my goodness, the layouts for this scene were absolutely stellar. The lighting was gloom and gray, the angles always made sure to make use of height, and the layouts are constantly aware of space and use that to depict how close Mitsumi and Shima are, and how distant/separate they become during the conversation. The closeups/single character focuses are only used to separate the pairs when they end up on opposite ends of the conversation. When Mitsumi's talking about how important school and exams and stuff are, she's standing up while Shima sits down, or we're seeing a close up of her face. Similarly, when Shima bites back at Mitsumi, or when he's soaking up/disagreeing with what she says, we'll get only him in frame.

Even things like the blocking of the characters, it fits perfectly. Mitsumi is the one that's always turning to face Shima, while he stays neutral and faces forward. Such a simple piece that speaks to their approach to people, as Mitsumi always engages and is directly interested in them, while Shima can be cold and indifferent in most cases.

And just look at this gif, I was shocked when I realized it. They went through the trouble of animating shadows of Shima and Mitsumi on the desks. Such a small detail, but it adds a comparative world of information and feel to the cut.

In addition to that, P.A Works has been working some real magic with their 3D art. If you look hard enough you'll see it for sure, but as a supplemental piece it's amazingly well blended with the rest of the 2D work.

Anyways, back to the story. I really like how both characters work through the little dispute. Mitsumi still doesn't really have any strong friendships or anything at school, so she's left to her own devices in dealing with it and in turn overthinks (though in a good direction) because of it.

Shima on the other hand has a far more expressive stance, as he wanders through his mind in the presence of an old friend. It's also the first time we really see Shima express, let alone confront his feelings on things, and they do a really good job of continuing that air of indifference while approaching that subject. If I had to explain it, they nailed it in it being like there's a fly buzzing around Shima almost. It's not something driving him crazy, but he's forced to be aware of it and wants to, well, deal with it. Also, it's a little detail, but I like the little playful back and forth between him and his friend to start things off. His friend jokingly finds it funny that Shima is expressing emotions, which Shima doesn't take all that kindly to because opening up just to get laughed at isn't really a great feeling.

Both mull it over, both make it slightly awkward at school, and both want to come to terms/apologize over it. Pretty textbook high school drama, if you ask me (which I think is a good thing). Before that though, I really loved this piece between Mitsumi and Egashira. They've already grown close as Egashira's dropped that facade of hostility, but I love that she's kept her character. Still snarky and sorta "above" Mitsumi, but open to helping her out and being a good friend.

And now we arrive at the big moment in the episode: the apology. It's well worded and the perfect amount of awkward and earnest, from how Mitsumi approaches Shima right up until they laugh it off together.

Though first, this cut of Mitsumi dashing down the hallway to catch up to Shima. Really great work and I love how they're willing to shake things up for bigger moments. There's also really meaningful work put into how it looks in motion. They're incredibly aware of the 3D space they're working in, and all all sorts of subtle effects to heighten the viewer's awareness and feel of that space.

Anyways, back on topic. Like I said, awkward and earnest, Mitsumi really puts her charm on display once more to coax Shima out of his shell. It's a really great and warm moment that brings the two undeniably closer, and allows Shima to well and truly make a new friend.

Also, it took me until the end of the episode to realize that the rain was all about Shim and Mitsumi. It symbolized the struggles and lows of their friendship, and it was only once they worked through those that the sun began to poke out and shine down on them.

Though the episode effectively ends here, I still have so much I wish I could talk about, but I'll leave it as footnotes.

The overall use of space and static camera angles that puts a focus on character acting

The use of closeups and focus on body parts to convey emotion rather than facial expressions (Shima adheres to this rule the whole season basically, which I think is great)

How, even though Mitsumi is sort of deluding herself to her crush on Shima, she brings forward the point that boys and girls can be really great friends without any sort of romantic context

How each of Mitsumi's friends provides support in a different way (the go-getter Egashira, the comforting and warm Mursahige, and the awkward yet thoughtful Kurume)

So yeah, once more Skip and Loafer provides a world of expertise and understanding, edited down and shaped into an episode that's super easy to digest but leaves you full of messages and sentiments, with a hearty helping of heartwarming moments.

[silverefflux]

skl

Chapter 7 of my König x Fem!OC fic, Rush

See Chapter List

Photo by Dương Nhân

Summary: “I want to tell you something.”

A/N: LET'S DO FLUFF TODAY.

SORRY BUT I AM BORED OF SMUT RIGHT NOW. Basically people do things to each other and in the end, one or both cums. Fuck Chapter 5 and 6. And fuck chronological order.

. . .

Be More // Stephen Sanchez

A couple weeks after they last saw each other, Kate and Dominik kept in touch, many thanks to Kate convincing Dominik to download a video chatting app for them to communicate on. Talking over text when more than 10,000 kilometers apart simply would be too expensive, dry, and unreliable.

“What time is it there?” Kate asked Dominik.

“I’m six hours behind. It’s 2:03 PM here,” he stated, followed by a slight sneer on his lips, “So ‘round about…8:03 PM there?”

“Yeah pretty much,” she nonchalantly replied, eyes intent on what’s in front of her. A sizzling noise from her end of the line competed with her voice, along with the clacking and scraping of a wooden spatula. Some steam rose from the pan she held, floating into a small, unused range hood above the stove. Others wafted all over the tiny kitchen of her apartment.

Dominik tried to bring his attention back to the book he was reading on his sofa, but couldn’t help himself from glancing at his phone, which was standing against the armrest. There’s something about watching her cook that seemed more interesting at the moment than the connection between war and geography, or his cup of coffee.

He set his book down on the coffee table and would forget about reading or drinking for the entirety of the call.

“That looks delicious.”

Kate cast a disbelieving look at him. “Me or my dinner?”

“Both,” he let out a single chuckle. This woman and her words. “But really though, what are you cooking?” he asked in childlike curiosity. He shifted so that his feet were up on the couch and the hand, now holding his phone, was situated on the backrest.

She enthusiastically grabbed the phone from the countertop, which was previously leaning on an electric kettle, then flipped the camera to show what she was making. “It’s just stir-fried veggies. So that’s garlic, onion, oyster sauce…” she listed off as she stirred what was in the pan, “Then…what’s the word...sweet potato leaves? Yeah. Then I’ll eat this with rice.”

“Huh. Interesting.”

“Thanks, just a quick dinner,” she smiled.

“Do you like cooking?”

She paused to think. “Uhhh…I like nice food. And so happened to know how to make some of it…? What about you?”

Mein Gehirn hat echt Wandertag heute. Mann, that was like asking someone if they take showers as a hobby. “I cook a bit, yeah. I bake sometimes. When I feel like it.”

She immediately looked at him again, fascination painted in the glow of her eyes. “Whoa, that’s so cute.”

“What?” he tilted his head ever so slightly, unaware of the small blush that was starting to dust his cheeks. The last time anyone genuinely called him “cute” was when he was a child, so the association of him with the adjective felt quite bizarre.

“You baking. I barely know any guys who can bake,” she explained.

As the call carried on, each amused the other with their own takes on their country’s food culture. There’s food for breakfast. Food for Christmas. Food for drinking and hangovers. Both relished in their memories associated with the meals they liked.

Sure enough, Kate’s dinner was ready, so she invited him to accompany her for dinner—virtually, that is. She grabbed a hefty bowl and flipped it upside down for her phone to lean on, making it as if she and Dominik were sitting across from each other on the small dining table of her apartment.

Kate’s stomach fluttered as she quietly indulged in scenarios she would be embarrassed to admit of, being a woman of her age. Thoughts of how sweet it might have been, had there been no expanse of land and water between them. Part of it felt to her like those little dollhouse skits one would do when they were little, where the guy and the girl would have a dinner date sitting across each other, occasionally sneaking glances at each other and smiling to play it off once they were caught by the other’s eyes.

Maybe there would be some spaghetti served, and they would twirl up some pasta from the same plate, only to realize they were eating the same noodle as their faces inched closer and closer until they kissed. Then there’d be fireworks and dreamy eyes. But that’s just Lady and the Tramp. Real dinner dates have you feeling extremely conscious over how you eat. Unless you’re too smitten to bother about presenting and witnessing immaculate table habits. Such is the case for Kate.

A while into their virtual dinner together, however, Dominik’s expression faded from cheerful to uncertain.

“Hey Kate?”

She hummed in response while she took a spoonful of rice into her mouth. Her brows raised in anticipation.

“I want to tell you something.”

She took a gulp of water to down her food quickly. “Yeah, shoot.”

He took a deep breath and his right began fidgeting with his fingers. His heart leapt to his throat. His gaze landed everywhere but at her. This confused and worried Kate at the same time.

Is there something wrong?

“I…”

Come on, just tell her. It’s nothing deep.

Kate tried to guess in her head whatever it was he was about to say, but she couldn’t fathom what seemed to be bothering him about it, internally crossing her fingers that it wasn’t anything awful. Then a thought struck her.

Is he going to say what I think he’ll say?

For some reason, Dominik was gutted by a fear that she would just outright leave the call once he told her what he wanted to, but he took another breath anyway just to force the words out of his chest.

“I took a contract.”

Oh. She now got somewhat of a grasp on why he looked that bothered. “Well..congrats? Sorry, I don’t know what to say when it comes to that but it’s a new job so I suppose that’s good…?” she replied sheepishly.

Okay…so she didn’t end the call. “Yeah, danke,” he spoke abruptly, taking another deep breath. “I’m getting deployed in two weeks. But it’ll be around six months before I come back.”

“I see. Where to?”

“Can’t say.”

She kept her cool, but deep down, there was uncertainty gnawing itself into the crevices of her mind. Anything could happen when a soldier—or a contractor, in this case—is deployed. It’s sad, but not in the dramatic sense. Rather, an awkward and empty one; as if their whole budding romance started from an unexpected "oh wow” moment, then the movie of their lives just cuts right when the climax is about to happen and you’re left with "oh well" before anything gets really deep.

“That’s awesome. Good luck. And be safe out there, yeah?”

“Thanks.”

Neither of them called the other in the next couple weeks. Dominik was too afraid to call. Kate was busy and assumed he simply needed space based on how he was acting when he told her about his upcoming work.

It wasn’t until a day before he left, that he called all of a sudden. Luckily, Kate wasn’t on any flight that day. It was only to say goodbye, but then she asked if there was any internet in his destination, to which he realized that she still wanted to chat. For that, he admired her persistence…and the seemingly unfazed air about her despite him being in a potential life-or-death situation. It was almost like she already knew what it was like.

. . . 

Fast forward to Dominik’s deployment, it didn’t take long for Kate to figure out that he was somewhere around Adal or Urzikstan based on his mentions of the desert, the time zone differences, and the recent international news. Trying to speak over a video call was too frustrating due to the limited connection, so he and Kate returned to mere chatting and texting.

Her life, like any other, had always been an ebb and flow between lull and activity. Business as usual meant getting assigned flights, studying the routes, submitting flight plans, coming home, driving occasionally to her parents’ house to have a meal with them and her brother, and spending the rest of the time in her apartment through chores and hanging around.

Dominik would pop up in her mind every few days. Whenever that was the case, she would leave him a small “How are things there?” or a “Hope you’re safe. Chat me when you’re back.” His responses would range from a couple hours to a couple days away, but he was kind enough to reciprocate with bits of “Have you eaten?” or “Did you fly today?”

Sometime about four months in, he went dark for five days straight. She internally crossed her fingers in hopes that nothing awful happened.

From his point of view, those five days of radio silence ended up with him limping on his right leg all the way back to his barracks at night after a particularly rough clearing operation. He switched on his phone and was welcomed with one single message.

Problem was, she wrote it in Filipino.

As any non-speaker of any language would, his knee-jerk response was to copy the text and run it on Google Translate.

Which led to the next problem: the result made zero sense.

Verdammt blöde App, he rolled his eyes.

The next morning, he sat on a medical table in a container building, patiently waiting as a nurse replaced the bandage on his injured leg. He stared at the nurse, who was too occupied to notice his eyes, then drilled his sights into the wall. He clenched his teeth, deeply weighing his choices should he approach this nurse for such an unprofessional plea for assistance.

“Excuse me,” he hesitantly called her attention.

The nurse looked up at him, mildly intimidated as she found his eyes in the hood that he insisted on wearing despite not being in combat. “Sir?”

“You’re Filipino, right?”

“Yes, Sir. Why?”

Silence.

He discreetly took his phone out of his pocket and opened his phone gallery. He knew not to be a show-off about it, as some of the military staff were allowed little to no usage of mobile phones. The nurse squinted at him, initially suspicious over what was taking him so long, but then brushed it off in favor of resuming to wrap the rest of the gauze around his leg.

“What does this mean?” he leaned over, presenting the nurse with a cropped out screenshot of Kate’s message.

She paused from bandaging again to check at his phone. Then her eyes blew wide and she looked at him with a wry smile, which earned a flustered expression from Dominik.

His stomach dropped. Was that a dirty text?

“Iniisip kita. Share ko lang,” the nurse quoted the text in a playful tone she assumed it was supposed to be read in, “She’s telling you that she’s thinking of you.”

He stared with a mix of relief and surprise, internally hoping his emotions weren’t so obvious through his hood. “She”? Is it really *that* obvious?

“It’s just cute though, because the way it’s said, like she’s playing hard-to-get a little bit? ‘Share ko lang’ kinda has a tone of ‘I’m just sharing,’ or, ‘Just sayin,’” the nurse softly elaborated, waving a hand off to mimic the coyness of the message, “Is that from your wife—”

“Ah, it’s—it’s not—”

“Oh, I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have assumed,” she gasped.

“It’s all right. Is this done yet?” he asked hastily, pointing at his injury that was being tended to.

The nurse returned her focus to bandaging his leg, speeding up to end the whole interaction. “A little more…You should reply to her. Or him. I don’t know…but that’s pretty sweet,” she shrugged.

After his wound was freshly dressed, he quickly thanked her, got up and paced his way out of the room. He made his way back to his barracks briskly, bypassing dozens of staff in his way. It was as if he had no injury in the first place.

Perhaps it was from embarrassment of asking the nurse to translate such a personal text. 

Perhaps it was from her probing from context that the message wasn’t just made by some relative or friend.

Perhaps it was from a newfound will to make it out of his mission alive and come home.

Perhaps it was from the prospect of hearing Kate’s voice, or seeing her face again.

One thing for certain is that something changed in him. As he sat back down on his bed, his heart raced and his eyes danced, searching for anything to divert his clamoring thoughts. He was an awkward, giddy teenage boy all over again. He sat on the bed and hunched over his phone, reopening the sole conversation he safekept in a messaging app inbox. His thumbs swiped gently at the sides of his phone as he held it with both hands. A rush flooded through his chest, climbed into his face, and fizzled out the top of his head as a familiar, warm, fuzzy feeling of delight.

She’s thinking of me.

. . .

Translations:

Mein Gehirn hat echt Wandertag heute. - My brain has a field trip today. Verdammt blöde App - Fuckin stupid app

A/N: And yes, for the Filipinos out there: yes, our slightly-conyo girl eats talbos ng kamote <3 Eat ya fokken veggies

[stranded-mik]

Nick is freed from the tree and Mik carries him back to their hut, and everything is well in the world, or is it? 

@nickalphonsus

“Nick…?” Mik had helped ease Nick’s body off of the tree, laid him gently onto the leaf-litter around them. The others that had helped him fight off Nick’s vines were already moving onto the next person, but Mik stayed behind with Nick, daring to cup Nick’s face. Waiting for Nick’s eyes to open. “Nick, come on, talk to me,” Mik prayed, wondering whether it would be obvious once he saw Nick’s eyes. Whether he would kick himself for ever confusing Nick with… whatever had forged a copy of his body. 

It was without doubt a lifeless existence. The haze was fraught with slithers of light cutting through the haze only to rescind. Voices doubling back and forth. Occasionally it was as if he heard his own but how could he be sure of that? He wasn’t even sure he knew who – - ‘Nick.’ Everything had shifted, as if his world had turned onto a fresh axis. Nick strained to open his eyes, forcing his eyes open only to be greeted with the hazy face of Mik. Sweet beloved Mik. “Mik…” He croaked, voice as parched as he felt.

Mik held his breath as Nick started to stir, his eyes creaked open a sliver. This was Nick, he knew that, but he found nothing right now that made the other Nick seem obvious. Mik shrugged off those thoughts, putting his attention to Nick right now. “Babe…” Mik whispered, heavy with relief that he’d said his name. That he’d recognised him. He looked thirsty, his lips chapped, torn. Mik pulled his water bottle from his fanny pack, slowly helping Nick sit up and then trickling water between Nick’s lips. “Hey…” Mik said, the chaos of the tree-grove around them fading to his periphery. “I know you said you’d like a tree-house, but…” Mik’s joke cut off as his throat seized up, tears threatening to pour down his face. No, he had to keep it together, stay bright and happy for Nick. “You went a bit far…”

Nick greedily accepted the water, desperate for it as Mik poured it between his lips, and almost couldn’t move his lips fast enough to guzzle enough down. Once he was sated, or at least had enough for the time being Nick turned his head to Mik. “What happened…?” There was a gap in his memories, an abyss that plunged deep but left nothing much for Nick to savour or dwell over. He felt weak, and worn out as if Mik had sent him on a morning marathon, but still he shifted. Coming to rest his head against Mik’s chest more than content to rest here for a little while and listen to the steady beat of his heart. This twist afforded him a view of a hollowed out tree, just enough space for someone to curl up into it. Nick cast his gaze away he didn’t much like the look of that. “Babe…what’s wrong?”

What was wrong? What wasn’t wrong. Nick had been kidnapped for… weeks? And Mik hadn’t noticed that he’d been swapped. He should have noticed, known that something was wrong earlier, but he didn’t. Did that make him a bad partner? He should have known. Mik smiled for Nick, hugging him back, trying not to notice the way Nick skitted his eyes over the hole where he had been. What he thought didn’t matter. He always tried to make it about him. “Well, despite you being stuck up a tree…” Mik trailed off, leaning down to kiss Nick’s forehead. “You’re back now. Nothing’s wrong.” Except everything was. 

Stuck in a tree. Sounded ridiculous but Nick knew better than to judge the island so harshly. Time and time over it seemed to prove itself more unbelievable than the last. Nick nestled himself in the halo of Mik’s warmth. Eager for it despite the otherwise amicable temperatures, he just wanted to feel right again. Nick groaned, letting his eyes slide shut as everything blossomed into a new world of pain. “I…think there’s a…” His dry cracked lips formed a smile before he’d even gotten to the punchline. “Thorn in my ass.” Nick dug his fingers into the soft pocket of Mik’s hoodie. It felt fatalistic to be wallowing about here but Nick wasn’t even sure he could stand. “Home? Yeah?”

Mik chuckled at Nick's joke, hungry for it. A return to their normal banter, like they weren't lying in the wreckage of a grove of trees with human shaped holes in them. Mik stroked Nick's hair as he closed his eyes and nestled in. That, at least, felt right. "You want me to pull it out?" Mik asked caringly, holding Nick gingerly close to him. "Home, yeah let's go home."

Mik carried Nick bridal style back to the lagoon. Nick mustn't have felt well, he only made one joke about it as they walked. Mik submerged them both in the water, and the world turned upside down as they travelled back through to South beach. To home. Mik's back started to ache as he walked on the path to their hut but he didn't dare say anything about it to Nick. He looked awful. Mik could bear an out back for him. It was only when they got in sight of their hut that Mik realised he shouldn't have taken them here. Their shack was a mess, flattened wreckage, caused by Mik's own hand. "Shit, yeah. I… uh… we might need a new hut," Mik said, gently setting Nick down on their sun lounger.

Nick didn’t complain about being carried, partly because talking was just too much effort. He wasn’t so much content but remarkably quiet but the whole affair. Though if he was being totally honest, being held by Mik after, apparently and allegedly, being held hostage by the tree. It was a delight. Nick only knew the latter because as they’d left the grove he’d seen others being freed. The sight was worse, far worse, Nick had at least been in blissful ignorance up until that moment. Being eased into the lagoon felt like a breakaway. Nick would’ve been happy to spend the rest of the day just floating, reabsorbing as much hydration as he could after being sapped dry.

But Mik carried him the rest of the way home. Their home. The little shack that they’d called their own, or what was left of it. Nick perched on the edge of the sun lounger and stared, blankly, at the wreckage of their hut. There wasn’t much left of it. “Did…” Nick started, not even sure exactly how he was going to end that sentence. Who? Why? How? Nick feebly made to stand but felt as if he was going to keel over. Mik was still close enough that he could grab a hold of him to steady himself. “What happened?” Nick asked, clearing his throat of what felt like thick vicious tree sap. Nick looked up at him. “Are you okay?” 

Mik had felt so righteous in tearing down this hut in the face of Nick and Emre’s ultimatum. That was before everything had come to light, before he realised it was a thing that wore Nick’s face. It had felt real at the time, but it felt stupid to fess up to it now, a situation that had felt surreal at the time. Mik shrugged, padding over to the wreckage and toeing it gently with his sliders. As if he could nudge it back upright. “It uh…” Mik’s throat closed up as he stalled at finding a way to explain this. “It’s a mess, yeah?” Mik glibly said, shrugging as he turned back to Nick. 

“I’m golden, babe,” Mik said, slipping into something easy. A salesman’s charm, the second skin he wore for the camera, for the stage. It felt good to smile, to exist as that surface level Mik who was never sad, who never fucked up or felt like he was treading water and starting to drown. “I’ve got you back, that’s all that matters.” He did mean that. His own problems seemed silly in the face of what Nick had gone through. “Though maybe I should go and see if I can source us a tent, yeah? Until we seduce that big guy to build us a real Alphonsus Manor, hm?” 

Nick watched him unravel, evident in the way that Mik pushed aside any real questions. Uttered that he was golden with a smile that appeared to be precariously balanced atop of their coded stones. For those that didn’t know Mik better they might’ve accepted this all at face value. Easy bright smiles that were charmingly disarming. Nick didn’t buy it. “Wait.” Nick reached out to wrap his hand about Mik’s wrist, once again performing a mirror into the past. 

“I know you aren’t okay…” How tenuous was the thread between them? Had Nick had a hand in the destruction of their hut? Admittedly, he hadn’t been the ideal partner. In some ways resenting Mik for washing up. He should be out there living his life. Being the personal trainer he always wanted to be. It was hard to let that go when being here seemed to only cause Mik harm. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. “Just stop, yeah?” 

Mik should have left as soon as he’d suggested getting a tent, not lingered around Nick. Because as soon as Nick grabbed his wrist he knew it was over. Nick knew. He’d seen through Mik’s mask like it was made of glass. Mik did his best to still his face as the next words came, as Nick asked him to stop. Mik managed to hold the smile for a few extra heartbeats, but his eyes gave him away. 

“I… I didn’t know it wasn’t you,” Mik admitted, the sin that had been tightening around his neck like a noose. “I… I thought you were off, but…” He hadn’t realised that Nick had been taken, replaced with some thing made of sand and evil. Mik turned to step next to Nick, both of them facing the hut, that way he wouldn’t be facing Nick. It would be harder for Nick to see the utter devastation he wore at that small truth. “I should have known, yeah?” Mik whispered, to hide the way his voice was breaking. 

“But that’s not really important. You’re back.” And he could barely stand, and Mik was upset with himself? That was why they kept fighting, right? Mik only thinking about himself. 

The crux of why Mik was upset came out as a quiet confession. Nick didn’t take his gaze off of him, even as Mik turned away from him. It felt like they’d been here before, without the island, without creatures and monsters in the night. Nick chewed on Mik’s words, letting them sit and settle before he articulated what he was thinking. Frankly, with the hazy gauze of green still ever present it was hard to think properly.

“It is important.” Nick answered finally, after letting the silence fall between them in the absence of words Nick could string together to smooth it all over. 

Nick didn’t say anything. Mik, who’d never been good at quiet, did all he could not to squirm as he waited for Nick’s judgement to fall. When the words did finally come, Mik flinched. Confirmation of his worst fears. Nick agreed, he should have known, he hadn’t been able to tell that Nick had been replaced… “I’m… I’m sorry,” Mik added, trying to pull his hand away from Nick’s. He was heating up, he didn’t want Nick to get hurt any worse than he already was. 

The warmth of Mik rapidly increased, and so when Mik tried to pull his hand free, Nick reluctantly let go. Instead replacing his hand somewhere that was a safe zone. Against Mik’s chest with the protection of several layers of clothes. “Mik…” He shifted, coming between Mik and the ruins of their hut. Leaning heavily on Mik to keep himself upright. “You are important…” Nick held on a little tighter. All these years Mik had always unquestionably been there, no matter what Nick said or did.

“I don’t…know what happened I can’t remember shit…” Nick said, whisper soft even if his voice sounded like gravel over sand. “Not you who needs to apologise…” Nick was starting to have a sinking suspicion that beyond the storm that had hit their home, he’d done much worse. How was he supposed to apologise when he didn’t even know what for. Nick did however, feel that fat wad of guilt for every snap, or short remark. He loathed to admit that the cliche was right, getting within kissing distance of death tended to reorient one’s world. 

“I’m sorry Mik.” 

Nick took his hand away and Mik didn’t blame him. Once burned twice shy and all that. He hadn’t expected that Nick would instead come in front of him, place a hand defiantly on his chest. Mik avoided Nick’s gaze at first, looking anywhere but at him. But when Nick said his name Mik’s eyes snapped to his, revealing just how upset and worried and self-loathing he felt in that moment. Mik breathed a deep breath in, and slowly let it out. He was important. Mik, centre of attention, life of the party, felt uncomfortable with that level of attention from Nick. He didn’t deserve it. 

Mik let Nick slowly come to his words. He should be resting, not trying to reassure Mik. Mik’s hand clenched at his side, resisting the urge to stroke Nick’s cheek while he was still running warm. Then, of course, Nick did the worst thing he could do. He apologised. “No, no, Nick. That thing wasn’t you,” Mik emphatically said, pulling down the sleeve of his hoodie so he could touch Nick’s chin safely, turn it up to meet his eyes. “It wasn’t you. You don’t have anything to be sorry for,” Mik insisted. Because if Nick apologised, it meant it was partly his fault. 

“Look,” Mik sighed, touching his cuff to Nick’s cheek. Terrified of hurting him when he was so weak. “You’re exhausted. You need to eat and drink and get some rest and… and we can discuss this some more later, yeah?” Mik smiled hopefully. 

Mik seemed to latch onto supposedly what must’ve been the most obvious reason for an apology. Nick parted his lips to clarify, but Mik had brought a hoodie coated hand up to his face. Once again circling it all back to rest, which Nick couldn’t argue with. He felt like death. “Yeah…” He agreed, falling into old quiet habits as he let Mik take the lead. 

Nick turned and steadied himself against the wreckage as Mik busied himself with pulling out their sleeping mat from the rubble. Little was left of the shack it had collapsed in on itself and the remnants lay wasted and strewn over the sand. There was no saving it. Nick was too tired to mourn the shitty little hut, all the time and energy he’d put into making it something. He was too tired for anything except he did notice an irregularity. Singular burnt in hand print on one of the beams that’d been supportive. 

With it he recalled witnessing the burning rage of Mik as he tore down their hut piece by piece. Flickers and slithers of the memory, which felt more like a vision, coming to him. Nick didn’t have enough energy to turn back to Mik and needle him harder. He let himself be carried again. All but passing out in Mik’s arms. 

[kangshxrtie]

5 . drama-ma-ma-ma . written

main . prev

you thought nien and jiwoo were joking when they said they would form a barrier around you as soon as you walked out of the building. but you were quickly proven wrong as nien and jiwoo stood by your side in a bodyguard stance with their chests puffed out. neither one of them looked particularly intimidating, but their height did a little something.

they both had on wired headphones and used their apple watches as walkie-talkies to communicate, even though they were right next to each other.

as you all continued walking, anyone who came even remotely close to approaching you was quickly pushed away with a firm, “our client will not be speaking today.”

you didn’t really complain about it. you didn’t want to be bothered by random people you barely even knew, and nien and jiwoo were doing a great job at stopping everybody.

you weren’t used to this. sure, you were known when you were xinyu’s best friend and people would talk to you to get close to her. then, you were also a huge topic when your falling out with xinyu happened as everybody was curious to know what happened between the two of you. to them, you two were besties one day and then wouldn’t even acknowledge each other’s presence the next. eventually, people moved past that, and you flew under the radar with your little friend group.

then you started dating nakyoung and were back at the same level of popularity as when you were xinyu’s best friend, then you two broke up because of differences, but of course, people thought some shady stuff happened behind closed doors. especially when you tried to get her back and none of your attempts worked.

now, you were once again a huge topic of conversation because of this scandal. you really just wanted to get your degree and get the fuck out of here because people were way too invested in your life and who you hung out with.

sure, you could transfer, but it seemed too late to do that now. you couldn’t imagine leaving your friends after all of this. you were sure they would be mad as hell at you too.

“not that i don’t appreciate what you two are doing, but all of this is really extra,” you told them as you approached an area to sit down.

“just doing my job,” nien said coolly before looking off somewhere.

you shook your head at her theatrics. “thanks, though. i really do appreciate y’all.”

“i would have done this for free. protecting you is like fulfilling a life duty,” jiwoo said.

“i’m not paying you.”

“it’s fine. you can keep your money. i feel paid enough serving you,” jiwoo replied.

“you were never going to get any money,” you said.

“i’m just glad you’re safe and sound,” jiwoo continued, ignoring your comment and focusing on keeping watch.

“all in a good day’s work,” nien added.

you sighed in disbelief at their skit.

you looked down at your phone after receiving a text, rolling your eyes at who it was.

as you looked up, you noticed people walking past where you were sitting, pointing at you before whispering to each other.

jiwoo turned to you with a serious expression. “how do you want us to handle them?”

“don’t do anything to them,” you sighed, feeling like you were watching two dogs you couldn’t let off the leash, too scared they’d attack.

“i’m sure xinyu would appreciate it if i tripped them,” jiwoo said.

“i would too, but there are too many witnesses, and i don’t want anybody talking shit about either of you,” you replied.

“aww, y/n, you do care about us,” nien squealed, punching the air excitedly.

“i literally tell you i love you all the time,” you stated.

“this is worth more than any paycheck,” nien declared, holding her hand over her heart. you looked away, not wanting to feed into more of her theatrics.

“do you two not have classes?” you asked.

“that’s not important. this is my main focus,” jiwoo replied.

“you two better not be skipping any important classes,” you scolded.

“just an elective,” nien waved off.

“didn’t you literally just leave an important english class?” jiwoo asked.

“i’m taking a mental health day,” you retorted.

“and we’ll be joining it,” jiwoo announced.

“i never agreed to that,” you countered.

“you did when we became your bodyguards,” nien said.

“i never agreed to that either, you two just won’t leave,” you pointed out.

nien and jiwoo exchanged a glance before grinning at you. “well, we’re here now,” jiwoo said.

“and we’re not going anywhere,” nien added.

well, you might as well make the most of this day with your two bodyguards.

main . nxt

taglist ༒ @gtfoiydlyj . @inybits . @baewonlove . @yeetaberry127 . @sananapotter .

[enchantinglyjade]

Milk & Honey - Ch. 21 (Part 2)

Austin!Elvis x Black!OC

Masterlist

Previous | Next

Summary: Honey and Elvis have some feelings to sort out

Warning: Bobby Kennedy talk for a sec, swearing, sexual tension, The Colonel, slight racial talk

-

The crew gathers around the TV in Elvis’ dressing room, watching as the nation crumbles right in front of our eyes. 

Charles quickly turns away, not knowing what to make of what he was seeing, but knowing he doesn’t enjoy it. “Mama? What’s happening?” He asks.

I reach out my arms to embrace him. “Hey, come here.” I shield his head away from the screen, before bringing him out into the hallway where he couldn’t see the TV.

Once alone, I kneel down, taking Charles' uneasy face into my hands. “Baby, everything’s going to be okay.” I run my thumb along his cheek, hoping that too can soothe his thoughts.

He stares at the floor, kicking his foot. “What if someone does that to us?”

My heart cracks. I remember having those same thoughts when I was his age, constantly in fear of getting hurt by others. I had hoped that times had changed enough that I wouldn’t have to worry about that with him, but obviously I didn’t hope hard enough.

I love my mama to heaven and back, but I promised myself I would never portray my fears onto him like she did to me. “Mama’s always gonna be here to protect you. It’s nothing to worry about. We’re safe, baby.”

The dressing room door suddenly swings open, crew and family members pour out. Jerry’s the last to exit. He takes a double look over at me, before parting with the rest of the group.

“Everything okay over here?” He asks looking between the two of us.

I nod. “Yeah, just got a little overwhelmed.” I say, fixing Charles hair.

He gives me an understanding smile, clearing his throat. “I was on my way outside, was gonna check out some of the big movie posters and props, did Charles wanna come with?”

I look up at him with surprised, but very confused eyes. Why does he want to spend time with Charles? I stand, brushing off floor dust from my knees. “Yeah, I guess we could go check it out. That sounds fun, right?”

As I’m about to check back down on Charles, Jerry places a hand on my back. “Hey.” He whispers. I halt my movements, staring back at him. “Go talk to E.P., I got him.” He guides Charles away, before tilting his head to motion me towards the dressing room. Then the two of them disappear around the corner.

Why does he want me to talk to Elvis? What happened in there that I’d need to be involved in?

I instantly get a bad feeling in my gut, really not wanting to enter that room. I take a deep breath, before grazing my hand against the knob and cautiously pushing the door open. A curtain is set up in front of the door, so I go unseen for now. I close the door behind me as gently and quietly as possible, before peeking my head around the curtain to get a feel of what I’m dealing with. I find Elvis and Colonel arguing, neither of which aware of my presence just yet.

“I have done everything to save your reputation time and time again, and now you are doing whorehouse skits, you’re disobeying our contract, and then you bring back the very woman that nearly destroyed your career in the first place, with a child no less. I can’t even imagine the things we will have to tell the press to ease your way out of this, boy.”

“Colonel, all I asked was to make a statement. It’s the right thing to do. The people are lost, they look up to folks like us.”

“And like I’ve said before, it is none of our concern. You are a singer, not a politician.”

Colonel sits on the sofa, looking at Elvis who stands in front of the vanity, both facing away from the door.

“Honey must have really gotten into your head since you two rekindled, you are reverting back to your selfish, rebellious ways. If this is the impact she has on you in only a few days, I hate to see how that boy of yours will turn out.”

Elvis snaps around, enraged pointing his finger right in The Colonel’s face. “Don’t you EVER speak about them like that!”

Colonel lets Elvis’ anger roll right off him, using his cane to nonchalantly stand from his seat. “This entire show is an embarrassment. You have embarrassed me, embarrassed your fans, embarrassed your wife, and embarrassed yourself, in front of your son no less.” Colonel walks around to couch to the door, both of them now realizing I’m in the room. Colonel sighs, speaking to Elvis over his shoulder. “You will fix this, or I will leave you.” He glares as he passes me on his way out the room.

The door shuts behind me, blowing a wind at my back. I quietly approach Elvis, watching him pace across the floor. I find a place in the center of the room that feels comfortable and stand there, fiddling with my fingers. After a moment, I finally say something. “Elvis, I shouldn’t be here.”

He rubs his temple, staring at a wall. “Honey, I’m really not in the mood for this right now.” He warns with a deep and worn out voice.

I drop my hands. “Elvis, I mean it. This is just the past all over again. He’s right. Everytime I come back around I only ruin your life. I can’t keep hurting you, and your relationships, and your career like this. It was all just a bad idea coming here.”

“So why don’t you just run back home then? Like you always do.” He spits out, back turned to me.

My neck cranes back in offense at his words. I fold my arms, glaring into the back of his robe. “And what does that mean?”

He turns towards me, hands in the air. “Honey, I’m real tired of you running away every time things get difficult. When you gonna stop livin your life in fear of what everyone else thinks?”

My jaw hangs open in the air. I can’t believe he has the nerve to say something like that when he knows the exact reasons that I HAVE to live everyday in fear. “You should be the last person talkin bout fear. You left me!”

“I did that to protect you!” He shouts, instantly defensive over the topic.

Protect me, my ass. “I NEEDED you and you left me because YOU were scared!” My breath hitches as a tear pools in my eye. He stares back at me with new found sentiment under all his anger, but I shake my head. My teeth bite at my cheek, holding back all those feelings. “You know what, Charles and I don’t need anything from you. I should just go back home.”

This upsets him even further. “So, what are you doin here then? Hmm?” He asks, threateningly.

I sneer at his tone, stating the obvious. “Because Charles deserves a father.”

He shakes his head with a fake and dangerous smile. “No, I asked, what are you doing here?”

I pause, brows furrowed in a confused and angry type of way. What is that supposed to mean? “Because I’m his mother…?” I state, questioningly.

“I am perfectly capable of watching my own son.” He states with that sarcastic smile still present on his face.

My eyes squint. “You’re busy with work for 20 hours of the day. No you are not.”

He scoffs at my very slight dramatization of his work hours. “I am not, and I can have Marcella watch him while I’m on stage.”

I immediately shake my head, pushing away that idea. I know she’s his wife and co-parenting with here is going to be unavoidable eventually, but I’d never let Charles near her BEFORE even I got to meet her. “I don’t want a woman I’ve never met watching my son.”

“Our son!” He declares.

I place my hands on my hips. “Neither of you don’t know nothin about him.”

“Well hell, that’s what I’m here trying to figure out, Honey.” He says, almost like I’m dumb.

I glare deeply at him. “I mean the important things.” I say through my teeth.

He leans against one of the dressers in the room. “Nothing I’m incapable of taking care of.”

“Name one of his allergies.”

“Lord.” He rubs his temple once more, cursing under his breath.”Bees!” He guesses, throwing his arms in the air.

I cross my arms. “He ain’t got any.”

He drops his arms in frustration, pulling away from the dresser. “So you admit there’s nothing to worry about! Look, I don’t need you here to figure any of this out, so what do YOU want from me?”

“I already told you nothing!” I say helplessly. What does he want me to say??

He points his finger at me, walking towards me now. “Don’t play coy with me. Half the people that speak to me want houses and cars out of me. My fans ain’t never satisfied, I don’t never do enough. Colonel and Marcella want every dime I make. Everybody wants somethin from me, so what’s your price?”

His friends ask him for things? Marcella too? I can’t believe he’s even asking me something like this. Has he forgotten who I am? Who we were? I truly don’t want anything from him and I know he knows that, so why is he acting like this? “You asked me to come here.”

He sighs. “We both agree what we're doing is for Charles, right? You could have sent him out here alone with me, so what made you come?”

Does he know something I don’t? I only came out here for Charles. I mean of course I was curious about what was going on in his life now, but it’s for Charles. What other reason would I have for traveling all the way across the country? I’m not looking for money or fame from this, in fact all the things I do want from him can’t even be bought with money, so what is he even- Oh.

“What do you really want from me, Honey?”

My heart thumps. Maybe deep down there was another reason I came out here. I bite my lip. “I can’t say.”

He squints his eyes offendedly. “And what the hell does that mean? You planin some secret shit against me?”

I look away from him. “It means I shouldn’t want anything.” I wish he would just drop this whole thing. I shouldn’t have even said anything.

He snaps, satisfied that he finally got an answer out of me. “Ah! But you do!”

“I can’t want it!”

“Want what!?”

He comes close to my face, only inches away. The close contact makes me hold my breath. I slowly close my eyes, trying my best to avoid looking directly at him. After only seconds of feeling his glare and his body warmth against me, I finally reopen them. When I make contact with those blue orbs, my body instantly submits to him. I miss having him this close to me. I miss kissing and touching him, and going on crazy adventures with him and doing things everyone tells us not to do. No matter how hard I try to run from it, I’m still in love with him. That’s why I followed him here, because I still love him.

My weakness to him shows embarrassingly plain on my face. A small curl springs from the side of his lip, but only for a split second. He restrains all emotion from his face, staring down patronizingly between my eyes and my lips. “Mmm.” He hums, deeply. “Mhm. I see.” He does?!

He takes a step backwards, not tearing his eyes away from me for even a second. He seats himself on the bench in front of the vanity, spreading his legs apart before taking another moment to look me up and down. He then pats his lap, reaching an arm out for me. “Honey bee, come over here for a second.”

My legs flimsily take steps forward until I’m about a foot in front of him. Still unsatisfied with the distance, Elvis grabs a hold of my hips, pulling me that last foot to stand between his spread legs. He kneads his thumbs into the exposed skin of my hips. He takes a deep breath, watching his thumbs work before tilting his head up to meet my eyes. “Why you always so cute? God dammit, Bumble.” He says in a hushed and disgruntled tone.

A shiver runs through my body, causing me to place my hands on top his for support.

“Can’t believe I let you run around in a skirt this tiny.” He chuckles darkly. “You remember when I poured champagne on ya? S’all I could think about while I was watching you out there, droolin over me in that leather suit.”

Seems our minds are still a lot more connected than I thought.

His hands lower, gripping on the band of my skirt, his fingers tickling my waistline.  “I remembered how much you liked it too, bein embarrassed in front of everyone all cause of me. Woulda done it to you again just for old times sake, but I can’t have Charles seein his mama like that, can I?”

Okay, he’s getting way too comfortable and I barely have a good enough heart to stop him. It takes all the energy I can muster but, “Elvis, no.”

He closes his eyes, hands gripping tightly onto me. “No.” He shakes his head. “No, you’re right. We- I can’t. It’s just old feelings tryna play with us. We both moved on. Right?”

My heart races. I was so out of breath trying to endure his immoral and irresistible ways you’d think I just ran a marathon. I nod, eyes closed, not trusting my self control enough to look at him. “Mhm.” My thighs make one last clench before he pulls away, and he watches, tightening his jaw at the sight.

We each take a deep breath, nodding in an agreement to never let something like this happen again, but our eyes say something completely different.

After one very awkward and very long week of playing the game ‘avoid Elvis as much as possible’, we were on a plane back to Tennessee. The special was a hit. Elvis made the front page of….everything. Escaping for a week of luxury was all fun and games, but now it was time to go back to real life.

“Can’t wait to be back home.” I groan as we take our things off the plane and pack them into the trunk of the car.

Elvis lets out a short chuckle, hiding something, but I don’t care enough to question it, I’m far too exhausted. He plops in his seat across from Charles and I, as usual. “Say, why don’t you two stop by Graceland?” He suggests.

I let out a sigh. “Elvis, it’s been such a long day. I’m sure Charles is tired.” I am actually the one that’s extremely tired, and I could use some alone time from him and all the famous people activities he’s been dragging us to for the past few weeks.

“Nope!” Charles pitches in happily. “I’d love to go see Graceland. Can we, Mama?”

“Yeah, can we, mama?” I side eye Elvis, ignoring the shock wave my body goes through hearing him call me that nickname again. “Honey, it’s Christmas, come on. Marcella already cooked for all us. We can all celebrate as a family.”

Can’t wait. “I guess that’ll be alright.”

My unenthusiastic nature causes a laugh out of Elvis. “Oh quit bein such a wet blanket, Bumble. We’re celebratin.” He grabs a pillow, yes the car has pillows, and tosses it right at my face. I gasp, but he and Charles only laugh harder. 

I cross my arms, upsettingly looking out the window but do nothing to hide the smile that creeps onto my face. “I can’t be doin all that happy nonsense today. My horoscope said it’d be bad for me, read it in the paper this mornin.”

He snickers at my comment. “Really? And what’d it say about me?”

“‘Elvis Presley returns to the stage in his first TV special.’”

He rolls his eyes. “Very funny.” He states sarcastically, but I know he thought it was funny.

Elvis helps me out of the car, like the gentleman he is, holding my hand as I step up the stairs. “Don’t run into ‘em now.” He jokes, making fun of the way I crashed into them 10 years ago.

“Ha ha. I know how stairs work now.” I roll my eyes, but we both mirror a smile onto the other’s face. It’s fun joking with him again. He’s the only one that ever really understood my sense of humor. Not to mention, I just love hearing his laugh, especially when I’m the one causing it.

Christmas tunes bounce off the white walls. The house had definitely been remodeled and redecorated since I had last seen it. It’s brighter now, more lavish, and smelt amazing, what is that?

“There you are! You’re just in time, food just got done.” Marcella enthuses, pressing kisses onto Elvis’ cheeks after he sets my bags down to the side of the door.

I clear my throat. “I’ll be right back. Gotta use the bathroom. Long plane ride.” I force a grin on my face, quickly and awkwardly walking away from them.

“Upstairs. Swing a right and a left.” Elvis explains, pointing his hand in the directions as he speaks.

“I remember.” 

Marcella takes an insecure glance at me, before turning to the ground. Maybe I should have kept that last thought in my head.

I sigh, walking through the halls and finding the bathroom with ease. I close the door behind me, before leaning over the sink, hands on either side of it.

I came up here for a breather, just for a second alone. Not a day has gone by that Elvis hasn’t insisted on spending time with us, which I’m very happy with, don’t get me wrong, but while it’s been a dream for Charles, it’s been a nightmare for me. All these different feelings that have been coming up. I haven’t even had a moment to myself to sort them out, every day is just one activity after the next with Elvis.

When I get a hold of myself, I quick recheck my hair and makeup, before switching off the light and exiting the room. As I walk down the hall, I pass by one of the guest rooms, seeing it filled to the brim with boxes. It was nothing but cardboard scattering across the floor, but for whatever reason it caught my attention.

Elvis steps up the stairs with a concerned look, eyeing me standing in front of the room. “Everything alright? Been up here for a second.”

Normally, I’m not one to pry into others homes, but I felt called to question this. “What’s all this stuff?”

He takes a look into the room, hesitating with an answer. “All your things.” He says quietly.

I stare at him wide eyed. “What do you mean all my things?” I chuckle out, assuming he was playing some kind of joke on me.

He scratches at his neck. “I, uh, I sold your house shortly after you came to California with me.”

“You sold my house!” My voice echoes through chambers, only further exaggerating my anger.

A nervous chuckle escapes his throat. “Well, you didn’t actually plan on going back to that shithole, didja?” 

I scoof. “Yes, I did. Where am I supposed to live now?”

“With me.” He states obviously, still not taking the matter seriously.

I groan, running my hands through my hair to massage at my stressed brain. “I’m sorry, but living with you and your wife is the last thing I wanna do.” I whisper, hoping to spare Marcella from my words.

“Now, look, I know it’s not ideal, but you have any idea how guilty I feel? Knowing that right after I left is when everything bad happened to ya?” He stares back at me with pain in his eyes, guilt eating away at his heart. He turns away, dryly smiling at the chandelier just over the second floor balcony. He starts softly, “All my life I wanted nothing more than to be your superhero, protect you from all the bad on this earth. Thought I wasn’t enough and that I should give up on that dream, so I left. But when I left is when you really needed a superhero.” He looks down at his feet, quietly adding, “That’s when…I needed you the most. I been lost ever since…”

My heart lets out a thumb so hard I was sure he heard it.

He exhales, shaking his head. “I wasn’t there for you and my baby. I wanna do everything I can to make up for that.” Oh, Elvis. It’s barely even your fault, It’s mine for taking so long to tell you. “Gotta make sure my girl gets what she needs.” Now he finds my eyes, a tender smile adorning his lips.

As upset as I am at his impulsiveness and inability to warn anyone around here of his plans BEFORE he does something, I can’t help but smile back at him, knowing he has good intentions. “Elvis, it’s real sweet of you, but I could have just moved to a nicer house instead. Why go through all the trouble of bringing me here?”

“I can keep a better eye on you here.”

Still trying to protect me. I sigh, slowly stepping into the room, grazing my finger over a box. Guess I have no choice but to stay for now, no point in arguing about it. “Suppose I should start getting our room set up then. Gonna take a while.” I say as I open up a box. 

He puts a hand up. “I’ll help you get everything unpacked in a bit. Come downstairs and eat first.” He says from the doorway.

I’m about to follow him until I look down into the box I opened. The first thing that lies on top is that picture of us two sitting on our porch back in Mississippi that I used to have hanging in my kitchen. I smile with a hum, lifting it from its spot. Elvis steps towards me to examine what had caught my eye.

“You remember that day?” I ask.

He tilts the frame towards him. “First day of church. That’s when I first saw you sniffing them dandelions.”

I giggle. “What year was this?” I ponder, spinning the frame around to take out it’s back. Ma always wrote the year on the back of all our photos. The back falls out and I catch the picture, but something else slips out with it, slowly cascading to the floor.

Elvis looks down, picking up the small note on the floor. He flips it over to read it.

‘I’ll miss you. Always and forever. - E’ 

He swallows hard, not looking up from the paper. “You still have this?”

This is my first time being back at Graceland since that night. Knowing his bedroom was just right down the hall is enough to make my palms sweaty. Everything that happened in there; the news, the tears, the touches. That’s where he gave me the note in the first place. Now it’s shared with another woman.

I fiddle with the photo, before placing it and its frame back into the box. “Yeah…” I don’t know what more to say. Is he mad that I kept it? Should I be embarrassed with myself for keeping it?

He clears his throat, handing the paper over to me again. “I, uh, got you somethin.” Insecurely, I put the note in the box, closing the cardboard over top of it while he reaches into his pocket for something. “Close your eyes.”

I give him a weird look, but I do as he says, waiting for something to happen. 

“You didn’t have to get me nothin.”

“Just keep em closed.”

I hear the sounds of tissue paper crinkling, and soon after I feel a gentle coolness above my collarbone. I open my eyes, looking down to find a golden locket hanging from my neck, while he clasps the chain behind me. I reach up and open it. On one side of the locket is a picture of my mom and I, and on the other is the same exact picture I had in the frame, just smaller.

Once it’s locked in place, I turn around to face him with tears pricking my eyes. I wrap my arms around his neck to embrace him. “It’s beautiful.” I whisper.

He chuckles, hugging me back tightly, one hand running up and down my spine. “I hoped you’d like it.”

When I pull away, I look into his eyes. His gaze is soft, but unbreaking with mine, almost as if he was waiting. It takes everything in my power to not kiss him and tell him I love him, and how much I’ve missed him. My lips quivered towards him, trying desperately to reach out and feel his just one last time, but I can’t.

I look down, but have yet to disconnect myself from his body. “Can I ask you something?”

His breathing is shallow. “Hmm?”

Is it wrong for me to ask? Is it rude? I have to know. “Why are you with her?” I ask quietly.

He takes a deep breath, chest expanding against mine. “It’s complicated.” He thumbs into my sides, looking down at me, but I’m too embarrassed to look back up at him. “It was hard gettin respect back from the industry after we were put in jail. Most stations didn’t want me on their shows, finding roles was difficult. money kept getting harder to come by and I had people I needed to take care of. Her daddy works in movies, and…she’s white. Colonel said it’d save my reputation if I married her. It was the best move at the time.”

At the time. I swallow the large lump in my throat. My cheeks tingle with a question I’m afraid to ask, but can’t help it from escaping my lips. “Do you love her…?”

Though the silence between us is all I needed to know the answer to my question, it did little to ease my helplessness.

“It’s not that easy.” He finally manages out.

His response is enough to make me pull away. I bite my cheek, nodding while I try and not let what’s left of my ego come out through my stomach. As much as I miss him, I’m not going to fight for his love back, especially if he can’t make up his mind, but after years of being friends, the least I expected from him is to be honest with me. 

“It was with us.” I whisper with a quivering voice.

“Honey-”

“We should go eat. They’re downstairs waiting.” I grasp onto the locket, turning out the door, not bothering to see if he follows me.

When I get downstairs, I see Marcella and Charles eating already. 

“Sorry we started without you. He said he was starving.” She explains.

I apologize to her, assuring that it’s no big deal, while I take a seat next to Charles. Soon after a somber figure walks towards us from the stairway. Before he can sit down, the phone rings. He looks up in irritation, clearly in no mood to be taking business calls on Christmas.

He excuses himself, before picking up the phone. “Hello. What about him? I already told you I ain’t-. Hmm. Well, what happened? Where at? Alright, I’ll see what I can do. Bye now.”

Marcella and I watch as he hangs up the phone and joins us back at the table. We sit, silent, waiting for him to speak up about the conversation. He leans back in his chair, hand on his chin, as he stares into the wall across from him in thought.

“Think I gotta go to Vegas.”

.

.

.

-Taglist-

@tearupmyhead @chouetteschaussettes @il-giardino @theliterarybeldam @re3kin @anangelwhodidntfall @felicityroth @crash-and-cure @mama-pankow @tzillas @wonderlandlovelove @mirandastuckinthe80s @queenslandlover-93 @coconutessential @pumkiinpasties @buckybarnesbitch00000000 @biafbunny @darkestbeforethedawn16 @dollfaceyourfear @adoreyouusugar @hails-schae @spacegh0ul @im-lame-irl @sargspiderbarnes @whisperily @whatawildone @lukasdreamland @carioquisse @kaitaesupremacy @thella @isthlsfate

[a-singleboat]

His Shirt

Word Count: 1533

A/N: I literally have no excuse, but I’m back!

Request: Can I request something where the reader and Shayne have been seeing each other for a little while and she unknowingly wears one of his shirts to work and the whole day goes by like normal but towards the end of it, someone like Noah or something ends up questioning it like “how has no one noticed this, or mentioned it all freaking day?!” And Shayne gets shy about it but the reader just laughs it off and it’s all cute and fluffy af💕💕- Anon

Over quarantine, you’d seen very little of any of your friends and coworkers. Working from home was tough, especially since you and your partner had just made the decision to move in with each other a week before the entire country had been submerged into a lockdown that stretched over a few months. The days blended together and eventually dragged on, which made you excited to return to work if anything. 

The morning of your official return, you woke up extremely early, not having been able to sleep the night before due to pure excitement. You wanted to get back to filming, to doing all the things you did before going into quarantine, you missed the hustle and bustle of set life. 

You were dressed before Shayne was, throwing on a button up from your shared closet as well as a pair of dark-wash jeans that only felt a little tight at the waist. You weren’t concerned, seeing as you were never really on the skinny side of fitness, you figured it was just early morning bloating that would go away as the day went on.

“Are you driving or am I?” you asked, bouncing on the balls of the feet as you waited for Shayne to pull on a thin jacket. It wasn’t fully winter yet but it also wasn’t cold enough to constitute a full coat. You had a thinner track jacket on as well, the zipper zipped only part of the way up in your hurry. 

Shayne paused by you to pull up the zipper the rest of the way before pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Calm down,” he advised, pulling his mask on over the bottom half of his face. “We still have to grab breakfast before heading to the offices, Courtney asked if we could stop by that bagel place by us she likes.”

“Is it even open?” you asked, patting down your pockets to make sure you had everything. Once you were sure you had your phone, keys, and wallet, you then realized that you had completely forgotten your purse inside. You whirled around to head back inside when Shayne handed you the black bag, a knowing smirk on his face. 

“They’re open for pickups only,” he told you, pulling your keys from your pocket, “and I’ll drive, I don’t feel like getting pulled over by the cops today.”

“I’m not that bad at driving,” you tried to defend yourself, hurrying after him as he walked off to the parking lot. “I just take the speed limit signs as suggestions but that doesn’t mean I’m bad at it.”

He didn’t respond, instead holding the passenger seat door open for you. His action was answer enough. You slid into the passenger seat and buckled in as he shut the door tight, running around to the other side and sliding into the driver’s seat. 

“What are we going to tell them when you roll up driving my car, huh?” you questioned. “Our friends know we moved into the same apartment because it was cheaper as roommates, not because we started dating. If you roll up driving my car they’ll have questions.”

“It’ll be fine,” he tried to parlay your worries. “Besides, if you’re that concerned about it I can just say you had a headache or didn’t feel like driving after we got to the bagel shop. Not the end of the world.”

You sank back into your seat, coming to terms with the fact that Shayne was not going to let you drive. He pulled out of the parking lot as One Direction played softly in the background, the aux cord trailing from its socket to the connector on your phone as you dictated what you listened to on the way to the bagel shop. 

Shayne got out of the car when you got there, heading in to pick up the order you had called ahead for on the way there. He was back before Temporary Fix ended, handing the bagels over to you as you switched over to Alec Benjamin for the rest of the ride in. 

You ate your bagel on the way in, putting the vegetable spread evenly over the toasted bread and eating it as Water Fountain played. You held out a bit of your bagel, silently asking if Shayne wanted any. He took the bite, smiling when he realized you accidentally got cream cheese on his cheek. You reached out with a napkin and wiped it off before finishing the rest of your bagel. 

You arrived at the offices shortly after, unplugging your phone from the aux and exiting the vehicle. Luckily, no one was outside to see the two of you enter the building. You would say you were walking a little too closely for it to be considered friendly, especially during a pandemic, but everyone knew that the two of you were close friends anyways. Walking close together wouldn’t give anything away. 

“What do you have to film today?” you made small talk in the elevator, getting to your working mindset. You knew what you had to do, film a gaming video with Ian, Noah, and Courtney, as well as take a look and collaborate with the writers on a new skit idea for when production went back to being fully up and running. It would be a short day for you, which wasn’t ideal but at least you got some camera time.

Shayne looked up from his phone. “I’ve got the meeting with the crew and then some gaming videos, I think. We’re also planning for the Christmas video soon, so I’ll probably be with Wardrobe for most of the day.”

You hummed as the elevator doors opened, Shayne tucking his phone away and then sending you a wink. You felt your face burn hot as you scrunched up your nose. You reached up to fix your mask as you waited for the elevator to go up to the main office floor, heading straight for your desk where a pack of Lysol wipes and a temperature gun were waiting. 

Proactive, you thought, using the wipes to clean off the surface of your desk before finally setting your things down. You took your jacket off, draping over the back of your chair before sitting. You had about thirty minutes before your call time so you checked your email and went over a few of the new safety regulations that were put in place for filming.

The most notable were the fifteen-minute COVID tests you would have to take before and after each section of filming, meaning you couldn’t enter or exit the filming area without a negative test. Honestly, that was a good thing if any. At least the company cared in that way. 

Filming took up the rest of your day and when you finally finished with your writer’s meeting, it was six pm. Not as early as a day as you would have hoped but you’ve definitely stayed in the studio for longer so you weren’t going to complain. 

You were sitting at your desk as you waited for Shayne to finish up his meeting, casually chatting with Noah to pass the time. You were sharing one of your quarantine stories when Shayne walked in, heading straight for your desk with his things already collected. 

“Are you ready to go?” he asked, adjusting her jacket. “Also, what do you want for dinner tonight because I was thinking we could have lasagna but if we want lasagna we have to stop by the market on the way.”

You laughed, pulling your jacket on. “I could go for lasagna.”

Noah looked between the two of you, slowly connecting the dots. He pointed at you, a grin on his face as realization crossed his features. “That’s Shayne’s shirt.”

You looked down, realizing that, yeah, you were wearing Shayne’s shirt. You looked over at Shayne who’s cheeks were as red as a tomato. He started stammering, offering reasons as to why you were wearing his shirt. 

You just shrugged, quickly thinking for a way out. “The laundry must have gotten mixed up. Not the first time I’d accidentally worn his shirts.” 

 Noah gave you a look that read that he didn’t quite believe you. But he let it go, taking note of Shayne’s red cheeks and your flustered looks. He smirked, patting your shoulder as he got up. 

“I’ll believe you for now,” he said, leaving the two of you to stew in your minor embarrassment. 

“How long until everyone knows?” you asked Shayne who looked only mildly mortified that Noah was the first to find out. “We weren’t even keeping it a secret either… I’m proud of us anyhow.”

“I guess that means we don’t have to worry about who sees us now,” he said, looking on the bright side. “And yeah, keeping it a secret any longer would have been kinda dumb, wouldn’t it have been.”

You headed to the elevators, linking your arm through Shayne’s. 

“Not excited for the fans to find out, though.”

Shayne looked at you and then looked back at the opening elevator doors. “We don’t have to tell them. It can be Smosh’s little secret.”

TAGLIST

@beautiful-holland​ @toms-order​ @starlightfound​  @positiveparker​ @bippity-boppity-boopa​ @caswinchester2000​ @andreasworlsboring101 @imladylunaticbitch​ @paige0103​ @theofficialzivadavid​

[ladynightshade30]

Role Play (Modern Music A/U)

Author’s Notes: Yet another Modern Music A/U.

“So,” Ivar said. “I listened to your demo cd.”

“And?” Eadwulf asked eagerly.

“It’s pretty good and I would be willing to introduce you to my agent.”

“Really?”

“But you have to do something for me.”

Eadwulf frowned. “And what would that be?”

“I think you can figure it out,” Ivar said as he placed a hand on her exposed knee before moving it up her thigh his fingertips brushing against the hem of her short skit. 

“Oh,” Eadwulf said a blush forming on her cheeks.

“Well,” Ivar asked.

Eadwulf cleared her throat and crossed her legs before looking him in the eyes. “What exactly do I have to do?”

Ivar smiled before moving to sit next to her, his arm resting on the couch behind her as he leaned into her space. “Good girl. Now let’s talk details.”

Eadwulf cried out in pleasure as Ivar smack her across the ass which was offered up to him from her position across the arm rest of the couch. Her skirt had been flipped up and her panties were around her ankles. 

“Did you like that?” he asked as he massaged her sore skin. 

“Yes,” she breathed only to cry out again as he smacked her once more. 

“Yes what?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good girl. Now count each smack. I think ten should be enough.”

“Yes, sir.”

Ivar grinned and alternated between smacking her and rubbing her reddened skin as she counted each strike. On the last one he moved his hand between her legs and rubbed at her folds.

“Well, well,” he said as he pulled away and examined the sticky substance of her arousal between his fingers. “Looks like you really enjoyed it.”

He walked around her to take a seat in front of her and shoves his digits into her mouth. She moaned at the taste and closed her eyes as he thrusted the fingers in and out of her pliant lips. 

“That’s it, my little whore, clean me off.”

Eadwulf swirled her tongue around his fingers before he pulled them out and ran his hands along her cheek and into her hair. 

“How did you taste?” he asked as massaged her head.

“Wonderful,” Eadwulf whispered as she squirimed on the arm of the couch. 

“Need something my little slut?”

Eadwulf reached out and rubbed at Ivar’s hardness. “I want to taste you.”

“My, my aren’t you cock hungry?” Ivar asked.

Eadwulf nodded, “Only for you.”

“Well, go on,” Ivar said. “Get to it.”

Eadwulf licked her lips as she undid Ivar’s belt and pants before releasing his hardened cock. She pulled it into her mouth and sucked hungerily at his erection. He groaned as she started bobbing her head up and down. 

“That’s it,” Ivar breathed, running his hand through her hair. “Suck on it like the dirty, little slut you are.”

Eadwulf moaned as the dirty words went straight to between her legs. She twirled her tongue around his length as she fondled his balls when one hand. She cried out around the thick erection when he slapped her on the ass. 

“You’re such a good little, girl,” he said. “You like that? You like sucking my dick?”

Eadwulf moaned in agreement.

“I need words Pretty.”

“Yes, Sir. I love sucking on you.”

“I just bet you do.”

Ivar’s hips moved up and down as he tightened his grip on her head and held her in place while he forced his cock deeper into his mouth. His hips stuttered when she gave one deep suck which tipped him over the edge. 

“That’s it Sweetheart,” he moaned, tilting his head back. “Take it all.”

Eadwulf groaned and swallowed everything he released into her mouth. 

“Well, did you enjoy that?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good girl,” he said, slapping her on the ass again. Now lean up.”

“Yes, Sir,” Eadwulf said as she pulled away and moved to stand up from the arm of the couch. 

“Oh no Princess,” Ivar said as he got to his feet and moved to stand behind her. “I want you to stay right where you are.”

“Yes, Sir,” Eadwulf said, as she leaned back onto her lower arms and looked over her shoulder at him.

“Turn around,” he said as he slapped her on the ass again. “Face the wall.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good girl.”

That said Ivar grabbed her hips and slammed into her. They both moaned at the contact and he set up a fast pace before lowering himself down so that his chest was pressed against her back. He grabbed her hands and pinned them above her head with one hand, thrusting wildly into her. The other one reached beneath her shirt and bra to massage her breast. His thumb kept sweeping over her nipple. 

“You’re so tight and wet,” he purred into her ear. “I want to fuck you until your too sore to move.”

Eadwulf moaned at the words that fell from his mouth into her ear as well as the feeling of his cock thrusting inside her. “Oh yes.”

“You’d like that wouldn’t you? Being fucked so well you can’t move as I continue fucking you until you are nothing but my own, personal cock hungry whore?”

“Yes. Yes. Make me your personal whore.”

“I will,” Ivar promised, squeezing her breast harshly. “The only way you’ll get an album released is if you spread your legs and mouth for me.”

“Oh,” Eadwulf moaned as her eyes rolled into the back of her head before coming hard.

Ivar moaned as he felt his cock being squeezed by her fluttering walls. “Yes.”

They lay there, draped over the arm of the couch for several seconds breathing heavily, before Ivar gave her a light slap on the rare and a soft kiss on her sweaty cheek.

“You alright?” Ivar asked, brushing her hair from her face. 

“Yes,” Eadwulf said with a smile as she pressed a kiss to his lips. “I’m good. You?”

“Yeah. Wanna take a long bath?”

“Oh yes.” 

Ivar chuckled as he pulled away and slipped from her body both moaning at the loss of contact. Eadwulf sighed as she stepped from the underwear and they headed towards the large bathroom intent on a nice, soothing bath.

@youbloodymadgenius

[hotwings0203]

An Ode to the Unseen

Thinkin about readers who feel self conscious, readers who feel like they’re not happy with their weight, readers who don’t feel girly enough or feel too vulnerable because of whatever height they’re at. I’m thinkin about readers who suffer from body dysmorphia, who shy away from looking at themselves in the mirror to avoid seeing their scars, body hair or acne. This is for the readers who feel too submissive and feel like a pushover in their lives, and this is for the readers who feel like they’re too fiesty and not soft enough. It doesn’t matter if you feel like you can’t relate to the stereotypical tropes in writing, or if you feel like you can’t act like a perfectly constructed Y/N in real life, this ones for you💖

A/N: Hello to all reading! I made this on a whim just to tackle some of the insecurities lesser described characters in stories might feel, but this is in no way meant to exclude anyone at all! We all have beautiful bodies, and should own up to it even if we don’t always see the problems we face in writing. Some of these topics might be sensitive to readers or trigger memories that might be disturbing to others, so please heed the warnings! Also the Hawks prompt at the end gets pretty nsfw, so heads up for that hehe

CW: dubcon, manipulating, fluff, slight angst, EDs, body dysmorphia, kidnapping, abuse, degradation, some nsfw, yandere, language, insecurity

You’re ever feeling not particularly happy with your face or body because of an acne breakout, or a rash that won’t go away? Maybe a birthmark that you try to cover up with makeup? Even stretch marks or scars from surgery?

You can bet your ass shigaraki will notice the way you can barely glance at the mirror some days just so you don’t have to see your own reflection when it’s time to go to bed with him.

His obvious and intense stare makes you fidget and gets your skin crawling, but he says nothing that night when he holds you a little too tightly-tighter than most nights he’s with you. The sound of his raspy breaths lulls you to sleep, but when you wake up he’s already gone, out on another mission or at a meeting with the Yakuza.

You feel groggy and gross, and going to the bathroom just to look in the mirror again to see whatever ails your body and/or face does nothing to stop your groan of misery.

You do your business all while turning away from your reflection, not wanting to see a second more of your discontentment staring right back at you while you wash your face, brush your teeth, and meticulously do your hair.

Finally making your way downstairs to the bar, you sit on one of the barstools and hold your head in your hands, not wanting to meet anyone’s gaze and no doubt seeing their disgust at your ailment.

But you look up when a soft whirring sound and purple-black tendrils of smoke appear before you

“Young master L/N,” Kurogiri says. “Have you been feeling alright? You retired earlier last night and had the most uncomfortable of expressions on your face, I couldn’t help but notice.”

No matter how much you despised or were wary of Tomura, you knew his caretaker, Kurogiri, had your back. He was respectful of your space, and if he knew you weren’t in the mood for talking then he wouldn’t push you

And so you told him your predicament, opening up about your problem spot(s)

“It’s so embarrassing, Kurogiri. I feel gross and I feel like everyone’s looking at me,” you mumble, putting your head down on the cool polished wood countertop.

He’s silent for a moment or two, before the tendrils of his supposed hands warp into a small portals. They appear again immediately, producing a couple of bottles and place them in front of you.

You raise your head slightly at the sound of sloshing liquid and rattling pills as the bottles are lined up before you in an orderly fashion, and you eye them suspiciously.

“What’s this?” You ask, picking up a tube as your curiosity is piqued.

“Young master Tomura Shigaraki had warned me beforehand of your reclusive nature when you ponder on what cannot be controlled, and sent me a list this morning to pick up some medication that might help you, should you need it. He asked me to bring back every item as soon as possible, so you wouldn’t feel the need to procure anything by yourself and strain yourself unnecessarily.”

You scoff, not buying the surprising act of affection. “So, what, he’s just doing this so he doesn’t have to look at my disgusting (body part of choice) anymore? He wants to come back and see some perfectly molded pet to stare at all day?”

Kurogiri shakes his head, however.

“I know how the young master is perceived to many: abrasive, immature, and brash in his thoughts and actions. He has a long way to go in terms of maturing in the way he views things, and unfortunately he was not blessed with…the best of upbringings, so he truly doesn’t know any better, as you already know.”

You wince internally, feeling slightly guilty now.

“But,” he continues slowly, “he was not born with evil in his heart. He’s just bitter with society, and is desperate for others to know his pain and see the world for what it really is towards those who are suffering. That’s why he is so taken with you, young L/N. Before you came here, he observed your mannerisms and was thoroughly attracted to the way you could see through people’s surface level facades. Although your views on the world may differ here and there, he is desperate to show you that he understands your suffering, and that he’s there for you-“

“-yeah, well, he has a funny way of showing it,” you mutter darkly, memories of chains and dark rooms and various marks on your body flashing through your mind. Even if Kurogiri was telling the truth, it would take some time for you to come around and even begin to try to give yourself to Shigaraki. He was just too volatile, too rough and negligent of your wants and needs. He lashed out at everything you did, and made you feel like nothing you ever did was enough to please his shifty nature.

“Yes, I can understand you bitter feelings towards him,” the black and purple mass hummed in thought. “I have tried explaining how a human girl is to be treated, however, and he is slowly trying to learn. I feel as though he may feel embarrassed at times from his lack of knowledge at such simple social norms, and that is another factor of his frequent temper tantrums. He might be the leader of a powerful villain organization, but when he realizes he has no knowledge of making friends or keeping relationships, it’s an embarrassing blow to his ego. Especially with you, he is especially sentimental and touchy regarding topics that pertain to you. He often will sit here in silence after you two have a, uh, little spat, and hesitantly will seek my advice on how to make things up to you. ”

And you realize with a grimace that he’s right-there are days after you both have a big blowout(usually over the most pettiest of things, maybe you turned away from him while sleeping and he took it as a sign of disobedience, or maybe you didn’t greet him when he came back from an especially tiring mission and he used that opportunity to take his pent up stress out on you) that he’ll come back after storming out of the room only to creep back in hours later with various trinkets in his hand.

You’d be alerted of his presence when the pitch black room is blessed with a yellow ray of light from the opening creaky door as he enters, and you will yourself to continue breathing slowly, as if you were still asleep. But he’s so quiet and stealthy as he comes closer to you, it’s hard not to be surprised and flinch or jump when his arm reaches over you just to place one of your favorite snacks on the cracked dresser next to you.

It’s hard to keep your head down on the dusty pillow and keep your curiosity in check when you feel him breathing down your neck as he lays a stuffed animal on the blanket next to you, and you often wonder where he knows to buy such fragile and innocent things.

Your aesthetic that he so closely has memorized from each singular color to the details of your favorite patterns make a stark, disturbing contrast to his greying, deadly aura. It’s almost impressive that he pertains each gift to your taste when he’s feeling especially sorrowful

“But nevertheless, the master has asked me relinquish these to you as soon as you came downstairs. And, just between me and you,” he leans closer and you do too, finding yourself wanting to know this secret side of your captor even further, “he was muttering something as he left, something along the lines of not wanting you to feel like you had to use these products. I think he was trying to say that he never wants you to feel as though you have to make up any part of your body you feel insecure about to him. He wants you to stay the same way you always are, and if you never adjust to your surroundings here, then he at the very least wants you to be comfortable in your own skin, blemishes and all.”

“This may or may not come as a surprise to you, but he himself knows what it’s like to feel insecure about his own skin and body,” and it comes across so ridiculously innocent and striking to you that such a lethal character such as the infamous Shigaraki would have the same problems a normal, functioning member of society would have: skincare and body insecurity. But the lines, scratches, and scars that litter his face can attest to this notion. How often did he himself avoid looking in the mirror for, not wanting to see his translucent skin, the clawmarks that left bright, angry trails up his face and down the sides of his neck, the cracks in and around his lips and eyes? Is that why he left his hair down skit covered his face, and the hand on top covering him whole more often on than not?

And so you finally open the lid to the tube, testing the feel of its contents that promise your mutinous skin some time of relief.

The door suddenly bangs open, and the man of the hour himself slinks in, nails idly scratching the underside of his jaw as he mutters under his breath to himself.

He lifts his head and sees you and kurogiri at the bar, a tube of ointment in your hand , the lid opened in testing as the rest of his presents are in array all around you.

As if you were accepting them.

As if you were accepting him

He feels his face beat up and his deteriorating body starts to prickle and sweat. He merely scratches harder, his mumbling continuing as he slowly makes his way over to you

You watch his little unsure shuffled towards you, and you can’t help it when your heart twinges as you take in his hopeful yet cautious expression, no matter how hard he tries to stifle any vulnerable emotion

So, in a moments decision of truce you quickly lean forward to whisper to Kurogiri one last favor before turning to see a new light of your captor

“Before I go, I need some things from you, please. By tonight, do you think you could pick up some self care things at the corner store for me? I’m talking face masks, lotions, Vaseline, and hair products.”

“I think if I see him accept himself and care for the body he’s in least for one night, I could be happy in my skin, too.”

Feeling conscious about your weight, whether it’s over or under your preferred look? Please, don’t make Kiri laugh at your naivety

You groaned as you stood on the scale, the numbers reading back at you seeming more mocking than simple statistics

You weren’t meeting your preferred weight, and it was beginning to take a harsher toll on you now more than ever with Kiri around all the time

It was easier to ignore it when you lived by yourself in secluded bliss, where the walls of where you lived couldn’t talk or pass judgement about your eating habits, the times you did or didn’t keep up with yourself as months of promising to do the Chloe Ting workouts turned into forgetful reminders that dwindled down into barely passing thoughts.

Where you had your own, carefully chosen friends who could relate and share the secrets of their insecurities, the little area of pudge that just won’t go away, that upper area of their arms of legs that refused to build muscle even after months of eating straight protein and going to the gym.

You got to choose your own happiness, you got to choose if you wanted to spend countless hours scrolling through social media with your coworkers, gazing in envy at the hundreds of models people swooned over, or if you wanted to call it a day and eat a whole bucket of cookies and cream ice cream while watching a sappy rom com, just because it made you happy

But now, not so much

You could tolerate Kiri gradually distancing yourself from friends who he thought didn’t have the “best interests” for you

You could patiently follow the chipper rules of his house to wait for him when he got home, greet him at the door in nice clothes, and sit down to eat dinner with him

You even started getting used to having his eccentric, loud friends over who bustled and teased you around when Kiri invited them over for a boys night even if that “boys night” ended in them being hurriedly ushered out as he caught a glimpse of you in an accidentally-provocative apron

But your sanity and self worth was slowly started to snap like an overstretched rubber band when it came to trusting your body. Your mutinous, betraying body that just didn’t do what you fucking wanted it to do, that was constantly compared to the models friends Kirishima would bring around, like Mina and Jirou

They were angels, of course, so, so sweet to you

Constantly reassuring you that the new dress your captor boyfriend practically shoved you in in his eagerness to see you in red (his color) fit oh so well on you

They tried to convince you that no, the dress wasn’t stretched too tight on you to be considered healthy, and no, it didn’t need to be shrank in some places either

They tried, they really did

Unfortunately for them however, their relentless support didn’t hold a candle’s light to the body builders and Pilates instructors Kiri would model with for health magazines almost every month

They could never understand what it was like to be in constant doubt and shame when you feel your seemingly mismatched figure, their bodies reflecting healthy proportions in every nook and corner, skin and smooth and soft as a baby’s, with glowing reflections of perspiration

And you always seemed like the only poor unfortunate soul who sat in the corner, sulking and watching ripped muscles and leaned, toned limbs mingle amongst each other to socialize and effortlessly slide inside various apparel that of course fit their body and shaped them in ways you couldn’t even dream of

And it didn’t help that night after night, Kiri would hold you on his lap, bouncing his eager knee as he shoveled bite after bite of food into your unwilling mouth

He infantilized the hell out of you, convinced you were too naive and self-loathing to see your true beauty and how he had to take it on himself to show you what he saw in you

It made you feel pathetic, and helpless. Maybe that’s what you were though, maybe that’s really what he was trying to show you

You felt like you deserved it, anyways

So you stand there, on the weighing machine, feeling the last shreds of self confidence slip down and out of your body, akin to the light tears that splash on the marble bathroom floor.

“Babe? What’re you doing?”

Aw, fuck

You quickly brushed away your tears and stifled your imminent sobs to avoid being coddled as usual by the gentle giant who stood behind you

It frustrated him to no end, no doubt. It didn’t matter how often he’d sit you down and kiss you all over, letting you know how much he loved every precious inch of your body, it didn’t matter how gently he’d cradle your face to force you to look into his eyes just to tell you how beautiful you were, how lucky he is to have kidnapped you

It was never enough for your fragile heart, and he saw it in the way you flinched under his praise and shrunk under his loving gaze that raked over your body that he compared to an angel’s

As if you thought he was a liar, just saying it for your sake

As if you didn’t believe his words, as if you didn’t want to believe his words

As if you were disobeying him

“It-its nothing Kiri, just PMS,” you mumbled, the snot in your nose making you sound nasaly and shaky

“Your period was two weeks ago, and none of your symptoms have ever made you throw up.” He says with a raised eyebrow, his arms crossing as he leans against the doorframe

So he did see you slip out after dinner and head straight for the toilet, huh?

Busted

If he wasn’t so worried about you, he would’ve ditched the mild tone kept up for your sake and had you bent over one knee with a red ass just for lying to him

But from the way you quickly step off the scale and attempt to squeeze past him tells him you aren’t just being hard-to-get, you’re not in one of your resistance fits

And he thinks he knows exactly what’s causing you to not-so-subtly shift your eyes from the weighing scale back to your own body, as if you hadn’t already been doing that for weeks now

He just has to make sure

“Did someone say something to you?” He catches your arm and gently yet firmly prevents you from slipping past him outside the bathroom, away from him

“No, no, seriously I just felt sick, I think I ate something weird,” you try to laugh breezily but the waver in your voice does nothing but further increase Kirishima’s aching heart for you

“You sure? ‘Sure I don’t need to go talk to someone who maybe said the wrong thing to you?” And although his cheerful voice holds nothing but playful jest, the dark glint in his eye does nothing to indicate that all he wants is a friendly talk, especially when he tightens his grip on your arm and pulls you so close that you’re nose to nose with him, looking right at him with tears eyes and flushed cheeks

There’s no point in pretending anymore. He might seem like an airhead, but he’s not one of the city’s top hero because of his airy, gentle nature

“Ugh, no Kiri, no one said anything to me. I just…” you trail off, not wanting to feel the inevitable embarrassment you’ll feel when you tell him the truth

How disgusting you feel when you see his buff, toned, chiseled body that’s akin to a Greek God’s compared to yours

How you long to secretly have the right figure to one day be worthy enough to be deemed his partner in a modeling gig, just once, just to feel like you’re worthy of him and his equivalently built body, a body that reflects hard work and perseverance

Something you seldom see or feel in your own mass of distorted limbs

“What is it?” He pleads softly, begging you to let him fix anything for you, to let him be a man good enough for you

You look into his ruby red eyes that hold a puppy-in-love expression, and when you find only adoration for you in them, you can’t help yourself for falling into the trust and care you so desperately want in that moment

“I’m…so tired of not feeling good about myself. About feeling overweight, underweight, seeing bits of pudge and flab in one area and then seeing some thin and gangly areas in others. Like, I just want my body to be normal, to be healthy like all the people you model with. I feel like nothing I do or eat or wear makes my body look how I want it to look, and no matter how much I try it’s so hard for me to see the beauty of what you see in it.”

And finally you can’t bear looking at him anymore, so you squeeze your eyes shut and turn away

Much to his credit, he pulls you in and nestles your head against his chest, letting your tears and snot wet his tank top

“Oh hun, is that all this is?”

You roll your eyes and try to pull back from his chest, but he doesn’t allow it as he simply holds you there, shushing you and rocking you back and forth

“Kiri, that’s a pretty big thing for me.”

“I know, but…why are you so concerned about how they look anyways? I mean, that’s their job, right? To look good for pictures!”

“I don’t understand,” your voice comes out muffled against his shirt.

“What I’m saying is,” he chuckles and soothes a hand through your hair, “is that you shouldn’t compare yourself to people that have nothing to do with your daily life. Like, you wouldn’t compare yourself to a firefighter right? ‘Cuz thats their job, to save people, not yours. Similarly with models and shit, that’s their job to look good. You didn’t sign up to be a model, so you shouldn’t stress yourself to look like them. Plus, it’s not like it has any affect on what kind of person you are on the inside, you feel me? I’ve met some pretty nasty and rude people with killer bodies, but can you guess how much respect I had for them?”

You nod slowly, still not fully grasping his confusing logic but sort of getting the underlying meaning to it

“But it’s hard not to compare my body to theirs when you’re constantly around them.” You admit. “It feels like I’m not good enough either to be next to you when I’m just sitting on my ass, not doing anything” You grip his shirt and let the last of your tears out, accepting his soft and heavy hands stroking against your back and up and down your shoulders

“So? Do you ever see Sero or Denki modeling next to me? Or Mina and Jirou?”

He did have a point.

“No,” you say slowly.

“Exactly, because models and bodybuilders have a job to dedicate themselves to a life of working out. They do it because that’s what a majority of their life goes to get paid for. It’s all superficial, that’s not how the average person is, like the friends I mentioned. Otherwise the whole world would be full of people walking around with ripped abs and giant pecs. Could you imagine some lanky dude like Denki sporting a 12-pack and ripped pecs?”

“Hell no,” you laugh breathlessly, the image so horrifying to you both that you feel the vibrations of his boisterous laughter rumble through you and soothe your emotions.

“Now you’re getting it,” he speaks into your hair, the smell of your shampoo flooding his senses and getting him dizzy along with a treacherously rising boner

“Plus, what kind of man would I be if I picked my girl out just because of the way she looked? I mean, don’t get me wrong, you’re beautiful-no, beautiful can’t even begin to describe you. Your palms feel so soft compared to mine, your arms are so beautiful when my hands are wrapped around them, your thighs are just the right size, your stomach is such a comfy pillow for me to lay on, and don’t forget your plush, slick, tight pu-“ he rambles on and you can’t help but yelp and clap a hand over his overworked mouth as his shower of body positivity starts turning more lewd…attesting to the bulge you begin to feel pressing against your leg.

But it’s funny, you can’t seem to find yourself being mad at him as your face flushes and you see not ill-intent and perverseness in his warm eyes, but pure and honest devotion to you and to the words he truly means

It softens your heart, and you use a finger from the hand smushing against his mouth to lift and stroke the side of his cheek, conveying your gratitude to him.

It seems he understands, as he takes his forced moment of silence with patience and just looks at you, hoping this time you could really see what he felt for you.

“The thing is,” he says after a minute, gently taking your hand away and turning you around so that you both were facing the mirror, “I love you because of who you are. If I wanted to date some model, I would’ve done it by now, trust me,” and you swat your hand against his chest as he stifles a laugh and turns you to look at your own reflection in the mirror.

“I didn’t take you just for your body. I took you because of the way you smile, the way your laugh is so soft sometimes and then all roudy and crazy and loud the next. I love you because of how passionate you talk about the things you like, the way you deal with problems, the way you treat others. All these things make me want you, so damn bad.”

He lightly rocks his hips into your backside so you can really feel how much he wants you, and you let out a soft gasp

He doesn’t let you move, however, he just holds one wrist in his meaty palm and holds your jaw in the other, positioning you so that you meet his wondrous gaze in the clear reflection.

He knew he was never known to be the smartest in his class, having Bakugo drag him by the teeth to pass class itself, so he hoped you could overlook his lack of vocabulary that so desperately was trying to tell you that loving you went even beyond anything he could barely articulate.

Leaning towards your ear, his breath tickles your lobe as his sharp teeth graze over your goosebump-riddled flesh.

“And if it takes all night to show you how much you and your perfect body mean to me, I’ll gladly take out any words that don’t do the job and show you physically how I feel. And just the way you are, too.”

If there’s one man who could not give one less of a fuck about how dainty, small, feminine, or easy to handle you may or not be, it’s the birdman himself: Hawks

Running errands with him when he allowed it was hell, though it should’ve been a paradise you felt owed for.

It was bad enough that when you hesitantly asked him what would look good enough to wear when you walked next to him as the Number Two hero’s captive girlfriend, he merely shrugged and said “Whatever you want.”

Which was not of any help, due to his excessive mood swings and possessiveness spiking at the most seemingly harmless things, such as you talking to the checkout worker at a branded store, wearing a skirt that he deemed was for “sluts who put out for attention”, or even not looking directly at him enough when he was talking to you.

So just to play it safe, you decided to wear jeans and a cute blouse, one that you thought did well for your figure and yet remained modest enough for Keigo’s liking.

He gave you a warning look before opening the door outside, silently telling you to behave yourself in public

You always did, of course.

It was never enough to keep him less suspicious of you regardless.

Deciding to bag some groceries first, he kept a tight grip with your hand as you both inconspicuously tried to navigate the winding back alleys, avoiding people and waiting in intervals to pass the street

He had a black cap on with a red feather embroidered at the top, sunglasses and a beige and white jacket that had a high collar for covering his face-you might be lucky to have the freedom to wear what you wanted to a certain extent but Hawks wasn’t so lucky

His wings, of course, couldn’t be concealed regardless of what he wore

The two of you luckily manage to snag a few stores here and there, the groceries in both his and your arms weighing down on your bodies, his feathers doing little aid to help when his wings started sagging under the bulk as well

Which is where you both were finally caught by a gaggle of fangirls

You passed the cafe they gathered around outside, and barely had time to register their squints of suspicion at Hawks and his poorly-shrunken vermillion wings before you heard squeals of recognition coming from their group a couple feet back

He swore under his breath, crushing your hand in a death grip and attempting to speed up further away from them

But the Number Two hero wasnt fast enough for his own good, this time

It was almost inhuman how quickly they caught up to you and swarmed around, effectively cutting you two off from trying to escape

They shoved papers, phones, various body parts and markers in his face, trying to get him to sign each and every article they had on themselves

And poor you were caught in the midst of it, being carelessly jostled around as each girl tried to force her way closer to him

The volume of their excited devotion and praise of him was making your head hurt, and you wondered how Hawks was managing to put up such a flawless, easygoing smile and responding to all their questions and comments without having a panic attack or snapping at them

After a minute or two of pure chaos, with the help of numerous feathers the hero-now-victim finished most of the autographs.

“Well, girls, thank you so much for your support and time, but me and my lady should get going now-“

“-wait, that’s your girlfriend?” One asks pointing at you in disbelief

You give her a weak smile and little wave

“Yup, the one and only!” Hawks beams at you with pride, holding you in an endearing headlock

“Wow…you guys are so cute!” Another chimes in after a few moments of silence, and you try your hardest not to fall into your same old patterns, to not embrace your old thoughts and insecurities with such open arms

But old habits die hard, and they certainly aren’t dead yet

Especially when the first girl thrusts a shiny phone at you, fluttering her lashes and baring her teeth in a poor imitation of a smile. “Would you be a dear and take a picture of all of us with him?”

“Uhh, sure, yeah, no problem.” You decide that getting this whole ordeal over quicker would be the best option for you

But as quick as you want this to pass, you can’t help but take an extra second to see the difference in your hands and hers when you take the phone from her hand

While her smooth, small and soft hands are seemingly unmarked, her acrylics accentuating her feminine form, you feel as though your larger ones should hide in shame in comparison

You’re not a slob, not by any means when you go out with him. But what was previously just you feeling comfortable in your own skin of knuckle hair, cuticles here and there, and nails bitten short from the cold stand anxiety of living with such a volatile man starts to turn into a realization of how different you are to these people who are trimmed to perfection

You shake off the sinking feeling in your heart and back up with the phone as the rest of the girls and Keigo line up for posing

The details in the phone camera do nothing to ease your growing timidity

The screen reflects what you see right in front of you- smooth hair, not a frizzy strand in sight blowing with the wind, perfectly manicured hands that are so delicate and small compared to your boyfriends’ gripping his upper arms, desperate to feel the hero’s assets.

They’re all at a perfect height with him too, the heels and boots they wear so easily lining them up at his chest level so they have a perfect view of his pecs and upwards

All of them are so beautiful and uniform, so dainty and careful with themselves. If one of them said that they were dating Hawks, you’d believe that they were worthy of it too

You snap the picture and hand the device over, trying to hide your trembling bottom lip and frigid hands

The girls thank Hawks a plethora of times, give you some once-overs as well as slight sneers and faux waves, and you both head on your way back home again

You’re quiet that night while making dinner

It’s chicken pad thai, one of his favorite dishes handmade by you

No matter how shit you feel your cooking is, he insists you make him a 3 course meal while he takes a shower, leaving a feather behind to watch over you

Usually it’s fine, usually you ignore or absentmindedly swat away the plumage’s less-than-innocent rendezvous trailing around your body, floating behind your neck to tickle you, “accidentally “ falling in your shirt or wedging itself down your pants (no doubt commanded so by Hawks)

But today, it’s silent and still, precariously perched on the edge of the kitchen counter as it observed and picks up the various sounds and vibrations of your movement as you bustle around the kitchen

It picks up on the way you chop the onions a little too aggressively with your large, clumsy fucking hands

Another reminder of how different you are than the average Hawks Fangirl ™

How they sashay and swing their hips around in a perfect circle when approaching him, while you stumble and trip over your own damn feet, the epitome of clumsiness and gracelessness

The feet which never endow heels or boots often because of the height difference it gives you and Keigo, because of the way you try desperately to adorn different slouches and postures to not look so out of place and awkward around him

And while you’re stirring the pasta in its sauce, the feather also picks up on the rhythm of your shattered heart

Shattered so when you remember how the girls sneered at you because you weren’t femme fatale like them, how you just stood there like a fucking mannequin while they cooed well placed praise, and how eloquent sentences flowed from their tongue like honey

You could only wish you ever spoke like they did, or adopted any of their mannerisms that seemed so natural and effortless like them

Your aching heart thudded dully while you scrutinized your miserable self, and flared up into a kicking rate when you realized you shouldn’t even care what your captor or any of his fan girls thinks

In fact, this was all his fault.

You slammed your mixer down, tapping your fingers against the countertop deep on thought

The vibrations the feather picked up was the last straw of its patience, as it alerted its owner to come and address you

Mumbling under your breath at your predicament, you banged around pots and spoons in your anger, failing to notice the plumage silently join its approaching owner, the water from his shower dripping down his wet shoulders and hair

“What’s goin’ on chickadee? It sounds like you’re tryina’ tear down the kitchen.”

You barely spare him a glance over your shoulder as you take in his bare torso, only a towel wrapped around his midriff

“Nothing. Just finishing up dinner,” you mumble.

“It doesn’t sound like nothing. It sounds like your hearts racing a mile a minute. So I’ll ask you again- what are you so upset?”

He yanks a stirring spoon from your hand and uses his grand wings to turn you towards him, a condescending pout on his face as he amusedly takes in your furrowed eyebrows, heated up cheeks and shaking fists.

He wants to keep pushing me? Fine, then I can play his little game

“You wanna know why I’m upset? I’m upset because I’m here against my will, creating problems for myself that I never even wanted in the first place!”

You jab a finger into his chest and his eyes narrow at your impertinent tone.

“Now wait a sec’-“ but you cut him off immediately, nose to nose with him now as you continue to blare at him

“I’m upset because I never feel fucking good enough for my kidnapper. How pathetic is that? Any time I have to beg you on all fours like a fucking dog to go outside I end up regretting it, ‘cause all I see is how flawed I am!”

He’s staring at you with wide eyes now, actually bewildered at the turn your ranting came to. So it’s not just about being kept here against your will, you’re actually upset about not feeling good enough for him?

“Those girls today…they were so perfect and feminine and beautiful and they had such small fucking hands that would fit perfectly in yours like mine never do, and perfectly pedicured feet, and had such pretty voices, fuck, I mean I’d date them too if I were you!”

You ignore the rage and bafflement in his expression, he looks at you like you’re crazy and maybe for the moment you are as you keep mouthing off to him

“So why don’t you, huh? I mean I only go out with you a couple times a year, but you see them almost every day! Girls who have hair that flows like goddamn waterfalls, girls who you could pick up and throw around so easily or at least girls you’re not embarrassed of.”

“I’m clumsy, I can’t walk with grace, I’m not at a height that’s easy for you to look at me with or thats even considered sexy, I probably don’t even weigh anything around you that people would call worthy of being some fit bitch for you!”

At this, you sink to your knees in front of him, almost spent out. You can’t bear for him to see your face, no doubt scrunched up in tears and snot with mussed strands hovering around your face like you just got electrocuted.

Another thing to ridicule yourself about, a fucking crying face. You don’t want him to see another ugly trait about you that he no doubt will snicker about behind your back.

“Isn’t that why you never let me out? Because I’m not cute or good material for tabloids, right? I don’t look good enough or act right for the Number Two hero, and that’s why you’re embarrassed, right? It’s been so long since I tried to last leave so I know you trust me-that means the only reason you hate going out with me and covering yourself up is because you can’t stand to be seen with such a fugly-“

“That’s enough.” His cold voice booms louder than yours, and you startle at that.

“Look at me, Y/N.” The tone at which he speaks leaves no room for argument, but when you continue to look down he snarls and detaches a feather, forcing your head up with it.

“You keep calling yourself all these things, but don’t tell me that moronic is another word you’re gonna add on, right? I mean you can’t possibly be that stupid enough to believe all those things you just said.”

You glare at him, sure that this was just a way for him to get you to shut up.

“I thought living with the Number Two hero would let some intellect rub off on you, but I guess it’s the complete opposite, if anything. Because you seem to have forgotten your place in my house.”

You yelp when suddenly a multitude of other feathers zoom towards you, pulling at your limbs and clothes as they lift you into the air, suspended to a height a couple of feet above Hawks’ eye level.

He just stands there with an eerie smirk on his face as he watches you flail around midair, trying to regain your balance.

“It doesn’t matter if you’re 6’3 and have bigger hands than me.”

With a flick of his finger, the feathers are directed to slam your body into the ground, leaving you wheezing on your back.

“And it doesn’t matter if you’re 4’7 and fall over yourself every time I call for you.”

He stands above you now, hands in his pockets and he smiles down at your curled up body. You look at him cautiously, unsure of what he’s playing at.

“You’re mind because I want you. I want everything about you, your heart, your mannerisms, your soul, your movements-they all belong to me and only me.”

He crouches down to a kneel, gently running a hand through your hair before turning it into a fist and yanking your head up to face him.

“And there isn’t a goddamn thing that’s gonna stop me from having you, when I want, and how I want. You think you have a chance of leaving me, or me leaving you when I, in your words, ‘go out and see beautiful girls like that all the time?’ If I haven’t left you for them by now, I sure as hell never will.”

You decide for now to take the backhanded compliment about being able to leave in silence. In a messed up way, he was proving his loyalty, and right now you needed all the reassurance you could get.

“And why the hell do you care how you look in public anyways, huh? Are you trying to seduce someone?”

You frantically object, and he sneers at your desperation. “Good, because it should only matter what I think, and you wanna know what I think?”

You stare at him wide eyed now as he pulls your head closer to him

“I don’t give a flying fuck if you think you’re some foxy slut or if you feel like a clumsy oaf. Because you wanna know why?”

He starts unzipping his fly with a handy feather, and you mentally berate yourself for pushing him to a point where he has to ‘prove his love’ to you, knowing where this was heading.

“Because when you’re sucking my cock or lying underneath me, it doesn’t matter how tall or short you are. When I tell you to take your clothes off and hump my foot like the good little bitch in heat you are, I don’t care how much you weigh. I’m still choosing you to be my fuckmeat, my obedient play-toy when I want, and I’m doing it with all your ‘flaws’, aren’t I? ”

You cringe when his tongue flicks out against your earlobe and down your jaw, your endeavors of trying to shove him away proving fruitless as he just snarls and bites your neck.

“Even if you think you don’t have the prettiest, smallest, biggest, or smoothest hands, they’re still the hands I’m choosing to play with my balls, yeah? I mean, you should be proud of your fucking sexy and lewd body…look at what it does to me.”

He gestures to his exposed member now which is hard against your thigh. You bite back a whimper as he begins to tear open your shirt with one free hand as the other slips down your pants.

“So be a good girl and show me how proud you are of being mine.”

[hotkoyo]

SFW Howie Alphabet Headcanons

Author's Note: When will my husband come home from war?

Disclaimer: These headcanons are based on how I imagine Howie to be based on the game. You don't have to agree with what I say here as everyone is free to have their own ideas.

𝄥 𝄞 ── 𝄇

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

VERY affectionate. I honestly feel like he grew up surrounded with so much love and now he’s just overflowing with it. Howie is all about showing his love through warm hugs, having his arm around you, swinging your hands as you walk, head pats, you name it. Another one, in my opinion, is words of affirmation. He'd tell you how much you matter to him through words, like quoting lines from his favorite movies and saying "I love you" before you both go to sleep.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Affectionate. Lots of play fighting and cuddling during movie sessions. Singing to Disney songs at the top of your lungs. You guys make friendship bracelets for each other (and he never takes off his). Definitely one of those dudes who drive their best friend everywhere.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

If it’s not apparent already, this dude is a giant golden retriever and he lives for the cuddles. He is born to cuddle, baby. Due to his size, it’s natural that he ends up as a big spoon more often than not but he definitely loves the moments he gets to be the small spoon.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

So domestic, even when you guys just started dating. It’s easy to imagine yourself settling down with someone as warm and comforting as Howie. He would love to settle down and build a home with you and you guys love having conversations about your dream house and how your life would be like in five, ten years. He’s alright at cooking in general but can cook some amazing Chinese dishes that his mom taught him.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

It would be hard for him to get out of a relationship, to be completely honest. He’s one of those people who easily gets attachment issues and finds it hard to move on from a relationship. If he really has to be the one to end the relationship, he would want to talk it out with you and try to end your relationship on a good note. I feel like he’s one of those people who really values respect, even when things aren’t working out anymore between you two.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Howie is a hopeless romantic and while he does have his insecurities, I feel like he would really love to commit to someone. In terms of marriage, it really depends on you. I don’t think his career would hinder him much when it comes to popping the question, to be honest. If he feels like he’s comfortable enough with the relationship and sees that you are, too, I think he’d propose to you when he feels like the time is right.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Howie is a textbook example of a gentle giant. He knows he’s strong so physically, he knows when to hold back a bit. Emotionally, it’s canon that he’s a soft and caring boy through and through and he would never hurt you on purpose.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Ugh, he LOVES hugs. It’s canon that the Yan fam is really good with hugs so if you need a pick-me-up, he’s your man. Whenever you guys are alone, he acts like an overgrown koala because he can’t get enough of hugging you. If hot chocolate is a hug, it’s what Howie’s would feel like. Warm, familiar, and comforting.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

He knows he loves you when he does but holds back a lot in fear of coming off too strong. If he feels that you feel the same, then he would say it pretty quickly into the relationship or during a spur of a moment. If it seems that you need more time, he would hold back just so that you wouldn't feel uncomfortable.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

He’s the type who’s less jealous and more insecure. His jealousy isn’t going to make him act rashly and put you on the spot. It’s slow and creeping and you might not notice at first because of how well he conceals it but it becomes apparent by the way he starts to act distant.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Warm and gentle. His kisses make you feel so safe and loved and he likes to take the time to show you how he feels through the gesture. He loves to kiss you everywhere but his favorite places to kiss you are your nose and temples.

Also, kiss him on the forehead and he’d melt into a puddle. Another one of his hotspots is at the back of his neck. Kiss him there and watch him sputter as he tries to gain back his bearings.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

He loves kids, kids love him. He humors the kids a lot and is a great impersonator so prepare yourself for some improvised skits in front of the kiddos. Can’t say no to the kids, though, so you might have to step in from time to time. Kids treat him like a human jungle gym. Which he actually is.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

I definitely see him as a morning person. Also, he’s so fit that you can’t tell me he doesn’t workout every single morning. Probably goes on an early jog and is one of those people who seems so chipper even if it's only seven in the morning.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Have you seen actors with their stage makeup on? There’s no way Howie’s skin stays so smooth and supple without some form of skincare routine. Has his own skincare routine and loves doing it with you together in front of the mirror (while making faces at you). After a good skincare session, he'll sit on the couch or in bed with you cuddled up to him as he reads scripts from his new upcoming projects.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Depending on how much he trusts you, it could be sooner or later. The thing with him is that he keeps things bottled up to himself. It’s hard and it’s tiring and the moment he feels safe with you, the dam breaks and he starts to reveal things about himself.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

It’s definitely hard to annoy Howie and even harder to provoke him. He has the patience of a saint and unless something is very wrong, you can always find him just chillin lol.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

He’s quite sentimental so he definitely remembers your relationship milestones. He remembers a lot of small things about you; like how you like your cereal and your best friend’s name from high school. Some of the details can be fuzzy at times but he tries!

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

Canonically: The moment you said yes when he asked to be your boyfriend at Luca’s "sister's wedding".

Headcanon: The time you both visited his family in Chicago for the holidays. You were walking home from dinner when the snowfall turned into a snowstorm. It was terribly cold and windy but you both kept on laughing at the situation and you looked so gorgeous with snow stuck to your hair under the waning streetlight that he didn’t even care that he's freezing his butt off.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Isn’t too protective in the traditional sense because he knows you can take care of yourself. More protective of how you feel because of his words and actions so he’s careful in what he says and how he says them because he doesn’t want to hurt your feelings. Highkey loves to be protected tho. Thinks it's kinda hot.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Puts a lot of effort in his career, obviously. Howie is always so passionate and ambitious when it comes to being a top actor. Relationship-wise, he’s a simp. Dates are mostly casual with him but he puts extra time and effort in choosing or making gifts. All the extra and expensive bits goes into your anniversary dates.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

A lot of times, he leaves his wet, sweaty workout shirts at the corner of the room and somehow always forgets no matter how many times you’ve scolded him. Sometimes doesn’t close or tie snack packages properly so when it's your turn to eat them, they’re often stale. A terrible snorer when he’s had a long day on set.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Quite concerned. He likes to highlight the nice parts of his body through the clothes he choose to wear and tries to follow a healthy diet in general. He worked hard for his body and as much as embarrassing as it is to admit, he loves to show off and be admired for it (especially by you).

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

A strong believer that every person is complete and whole on their own. He believes that every person is their own and just because you love someone, it doesn't mean that your life must revolve around that person. Even so, he is a romantic. So even if he knows that he's complete without you, he does prefer to have you by his side.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

He can play the piano really well. Aside from dance lessons, his parents put aside a lot of money to sign him up for piano classes when he was younger. Now, he plays them whenever he’s deep in thought and it’s always relaxing to hear him play.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

In general, Howie doesn’t like broccoli. Keep those away from him. Please. When it comes to partners, Howie stays away from people who make him feel less. Basically people who put him down for being who he is and liking the things he likes. Narcissists, if you will.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

He’s a snuggler and he nuzzles into your side a lot when he sleeps. Whether you get too warm is your problem because this dude is Strong™ and won’t let you push him aside that easily. And, God, I hate to say this but he’s definitely a snorer. Not all the time but when he’s really tired.... let’s just say you won’t be getting a decent sleep.

[skzsauce01]

A Good Man

Anniversary Request Special

Description: Seungmin loves you so much so that he wished he was the one left behind in the plane crash, not your late husband.

Warning: guilt, plane crash, death

Word Count: 2k

Pairing: fem!reader x Seungmin

Chan was a good man— loyal, loving, reliable. Seungmin is a good man too, but Seungmin is not Chan, and he knows it. He knows it well.

He approaches you, bouquet in hand. You turn and smile when you hear him.

“Hi, Seungmin.”

“Hello, Y/N. Where’s Miyeon?”

“I left her with her grandma. She isn’t quite old enough to sit still for stuff like this yet.”

“I see.” He set the flowers by the picture of his late leader. “I should leave the two of you alone then.”

“No, wait, Seungmin,” you stop him. “Would you like to have dinner with us this evening?” 

You’re inviting him to dinner? His eyes slide to Chan’s framed smiling face. No, he mustn’t get his hopes up. There probably isn’t something more to this invitation. You probably just don’t want to be alone on your late husband’s fifth death anniversary. “Sure. Where? I’ll see if any of the boys are free too.”

“No, I meant just the three of us at my place,” you clarify. “I… I have something to say.” 

Seungmin can’t stop his heart from accelerating even though he knows it’ll hurt more later. “O-okay.”

You nod and turn back to the memorial. Seungmin watches as you whisper something into the single white carnation in your hand and set it on the altar before he himself turns to give you room.

He finds it ironic that he was actually the reason why you and Chan were together. You were his classmate whom he reunited with when Stray Kids did a reality show at a site you worked. He was even the best man at your wedding. He remembers that day clearly— that day when he saw you walking down the aisle dressed in white. He’d never felt so sick as he did then when realization and regret hit him all at once. He loves you. Since when, and for how long, he didn’t and doesn’t know, but it was and is too late. 

He finds it even more ironic, however, that he is the reason you two are now torn apart.

He raises his finger and presses the bell. Within seconds, the door is thrown open wide and a bubbly five year old greets him. “Hello, Uncle Seungmin!”

He automatically bends down and scoops the child up. “Hi there, Miyeon. Have you been a good girl today?”

“Uh-huh! You can ask Mommy!”

As if on cue, you pop out from the kitchen. “Yes, she’s been a well-behaved angel. Welcome in, Seungmin.” 

You take the melon he’d brought while he takes off his shoes. Seungmin’s a bit surprised to see three lit candles on the dining table when he walks in, but says nothing of it. He does, however, raise an eyebrow when you off-handedly mention you baked his favourite chocolate cake. He knows the recipe calls for red wine, and for a single mother such as you, anything that does not involve your child usually does not fit into your schedule, let alone cross your mind. 

After dinner, you take your daughter to her playroom upstairs with a large plate of cookies that are obviously meant to keep her distracted for a while.

Seungmin watches as you scurry back downstairs afterwards. You’re wearing a skirt. He doesn’t remember you wearing a skirt since you gave birth. He thinks you’re gorgeous in anything, but the effort you put into looking nice makes him blush a shade darker.

“Shall we?” you dramatize, pulling out the dessert.

Seungmin helps lay out two plates while you serve a slice onto each.

“You mentioned you have something to say?” he asks as you both tuck your chairs in.

Are you blushing, or is it just the heat from these candles?

“I, uh… Let’s eat first.” You smile sheepishly. “I haven’t had this in so long.”

Despite having his favourite dessert, Seungmin cannot concentrate on its taste at all. He watches as you cut through the moist cake with your fork. He can tell you’re nervous by the way your joints are turning white by your grip on the utensil. He’s used to being the anxious one, so this is new. What could have gotten you so on edge?

At last, you’ve scraped every last drop of cream you can procrastinate with into your mouth. Seungmin takes the plates and sets them into the sink before sitting back down in front of you, waiting patiently.

“What I want to say is,” you begin carefully. 

He nods once and leans forward, letting you know you have his attention.

“We’ve known each other for a while now, haven’t we?”

“Yes, why?” Goodness, this sounds like a line from every other friends-to-lover romcom skit. Not that he would mind. As long as you tell him you feel the same way he does, he wouldn’t care if you quoted “Twilight” verbatim. Oh, to be in a lighthearted romcom with you, Seungmin dreams of nothing more. Then again, he reminds himself, these are just dreams.

“Ever since… ever since Chan passed, we grew closer, and I depended on you a lot. You’ve been my cornerstone, and I wanted to say ‘thank you.’”

He nods again, but doesn’t say anything. He knows you enough by now to recognize you have more on your mind.

Indeed, you continue. “And over these past five years, my heart has—”

“Mommy!” A sudden cry sends you both to your feet. 

“I’ll tell you later,” you toss over your shoulder to Seungmin who’s running right on your heels towards the cry.

“Miyeon!” you gasp, seeing the state of your daughter. Somehow, she has managed to squeeze through the gaps between the railing of the stairs and is hanging from the second floor. Below her, her stuffed monkey lays sprawled out on ground level.

“I’ll pull her up,” you decide, but Seungmin stops you.

“It’ll be hard to fit her back through those rails, and she’s crying too much to cooperate.” He stands under your daughter and extends his arms upwards. “Miyeon? Miyeon, let go. Uncle Seungmin will catch you. You’re going to be alright.”

The little girl stops wailing for a moment and looks down only to cry again from the intimidating height.

“Sweetie, it’s okay. You can do it. We won’t let you fall,” you add in. “You trust us, don’t you? You trust Mommy and Uncle Seungmin?”

She quiets down again and sniffles as she looks at you and Seungmin now instead of the floor. Her tiny arms are shaking, and you brace yourself, knowing she’s going to fall soon whether she wants to or not.

Miyeon whimpers once more and closes her eyes. She then finally releases her grip and lands squarely into Seungmin’s awaiting arms.

“Oof. There we go. Safe and sound,” he assures her. 

Once she’s set on the floor, Miyeon again begins to bawl from shock. “Mr— Mr. Bananas wanted to climb. Mr. Bananas wanted to climb!” she sobs, gripping the stuffed animal you’ve returned back to her arms.

“Okay, okay, we understand. Still, no more climbing for you or Mr. Bananas, alright?” hushes Seungmin.

You pick up your daughter and bounce her on your shoulder. “I think she’s learned her lesson. I didn’t think we still needed baby rails, but I guess you can never be safe enough.”

Seungmin reaches for Miyeon. “Let’s put her to bed. She must be exhausted after all that.”

You nod and let him carry the five year old up the stairs once more. You have him wait downstairs though as you change the child, so he heads back down and makes himself comfortable on the couch. On the lamp table beside him, there’s a photo of you and Chan excitedly holding up an ultrasound. It is the only picture of the three of you together.

He runs this thumb over the other man’s face, wiping it free of any dust. “I’m sorry…” he whispers. “I know it’s not worth much, but I’ll keep Y/N and Miyeon safe and happy. I promise.” 

He quickly sets down the picture and stands when he hears you closing the bedroom door. 

“Is she alright?” Seungmin asks when he sees your head appear from around the corner.

You nod, descending the steps quietly. “She’s sleeping now. She’ll forget all about it by tomorrow morning.”

“I wish I could say the same when I get hurt. I can’t even sit in certain positions anymore,” he jokes.

You laugh lightly. “I’m glad you were here, Seungmin. Things could have been a lot different if it were just me.”

“I’m always happy to help. I should get going now though. You must be tired too.”

“Wait.” Your voice stops him at the front door. “The accident… I’m thankful you were here, and I realized it had to be you. You had to be the one to do it.”

His stupid hope is rising again. He can feel it in his chest. “Y/N, what are you saying?”

“Miyeon, she wouldn’t have trusted anyone except you. She needs you, and I… I need you too.” 

Is he hearing incorrectly? His silence and bewilderment prompts you to explain. “The thing is, ever since Chan passed five years ago, you were the only one who’s been by my side, supporting and caring for me, and slowly, I’ve fallen for that. Seungmin, I know I come with a lot of baggage, but would you be willing to give us a try?”

He wants to jump, he wants to cheer, he wants to accept your confession, but none of this makes sense to logical Seungmin, so he restrains himself.

“Y/N, do you realize what you’re saying?”

You nod. “I-I know it’s sudden, but I like you, Kim Seungmin.”

“But you love Chan.”

You hesitate but nod in agreement anyway. “I’m not going to put you second. I—”

“Y/N, I killed Chan. Don’t you see? You should hate me instead. If it weren’t for me, you’d still have your husband, and Miyeon would still have a dad. If I hadn’t stood under that propeller after the plane crash, Chan wouldn’t have had to push me and get crushed in the head. I killed Chan, and no matter what I do— no matter how much I love you too— I can never stand in his place.”

You take a moment to stare at him, trying to read his body language after that confession of insecurity. After a while, you straighten your back and look him right in the eyes.

“You’re right.” He’s startled by your sudden firm tone. “You can never be Chan. You’re not a music-producing insomniac. You’re not Australian. You’re not born with curly hair.”

He swallows and hangs his head.

“But,” you continue. “I’m not looking for another Chan. I’m not looking to replace him; I’m looking for you.”

“Y/N…”

You soften your voice. “When I found out how he passed saving you, I knew I was going to be okay. I knew Chan wouldn’t leave me and his unborn child to fend for ourselves. He saved you because he knew he could count on you, and it’s why I trusted you from the beginning and why I let myself fall in love again.”

You walk up to him and take his hands. “Let me ask this again. Will you, Kim Seungmin, stand by my side, not as Chan, but as someone who loves and is loved?”

His heart pounds in his head, yet he cannot take his eyes off of yours. His throat is tied into knots, yet he cannot stop the words from tumbling out.

“Nothing would make me happier,” he breathes. 

You smile and wrap him in a hug, which he finally returns. Just then, footsteps thump down the stairs and a five year old child waddles into view.

“Mommy?” she calls. She then takes a moment to look around before her eyes land on Seungmin. “Daddy?”

[mrs-gucci]

Dress Drop-Off {Mr. Pennyham (SNL “Sleepover”skit) x college age!Reader}

author’s notes: hello, hello! this is inspired by something that @glassbxttless posted (linked HERE) about mr. pennyham fucking his daughter’s best friend & college roommate (shoutout to @peachyproserpina​ for sending the ask in). it destroyed me. I have not stopped thinking about it. so, here I am, writing a mr. pennyham fic. 

**I take absolutely no credit for coming up with the name “Peter” for Mr. Pennyham. I regretfully do not know which author coined it, but it wasn’t me, so full credit to whoever did. and the name “Aidy” for mr. pennyham’s daughter is (I believe) a creation of @ohiobluetip, so credit to them for that.**

warnings: smut. general filth. mr. pennyham is a dilf. rough blowjobs. face-fucking. friends with benefits-type scenario. some praise. use of a clit vibrator. fingering.

tw’s: !!significant age gap (RC is 21+, Peter is ~50). infidelity/extramarital affair.

word count: 1.6k

my taglist peeps: @frank-and-honey @shygirl268 @icarusinthesea​ ​@gildedstarlight @mrs-zimmerman​ (if you’d like to be added to or removed from my taglist, the link to the google form is HERE or on the top of my masterlist.)

“See ya later!” Aidy says, grabbing her backpack and slinging it over her shoulder. “Oh, my dad might swing by to drop something off in like fifteen minutes or so. Would you mind letting him in?”

You nod, smiling. “Sure, yeah, no problem at all. I’ll be here.”

Mr. Pennyham is coming over, but it isn’t just to drop off Aidy’s dress for the semi-formal this weekend. You and Peter have been seeing each other for a few weeks now. Well, seeing each other naked is the better way to put it.

He and his wife are having some marital issues, you’re pretty sure divorce has been in the conversation repeatedly, and you wanted to be there for him as much as you could. You didn’t think that meant fucking him, but you don’t mind. The two of you have always had somewhat of a special connection, you just thought it was platonic up until that night a few weeks ago when he pinned you down on the couch and fucked you stupid. 

You quickly scramble to change into something a bit more presentable and attractive, grabbing your see-through mesh bra and panty set, slipping them on before pulling one of his button-ups out of the back of your closet.

A knock comes on the door just as you’ve slid the oversize shirt on and buttoned a few of the buttons.

Not wanting to risk anything, aka Aidy coming back and finding you in her dad’s shirt with lingerie on underneath, you peek through the peephole, seeing Mr. Pennyham standing there with a garment bag.

Your eyes instantly meet his when you unlock and open the door. “Mr. P...Aidy said you’d be stopping by to drop off her dress.”

His gaze lingers over your form, a small smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. He steps through the threshold, a rush of cologne looming in his wake, overwhelming your senses in the best possible way.

The dress is hung on her bedroom doorknob before he sits down on the small couch in your living room, legs spread a bit. He looks over at you, eyes shimmering with lust and hunger.

“C’mere, kiddo.” He pats his thick, khaki-clad thighs.

You bite your lip as you waltz over, taking a seat just above his knees, teasing him. He huffs, large hands quickly grabbing your ass cheeks, yanking you forward onto his lap.

“You know we don’t have enough time for teasing.” He growls in your ear, planting a single, searing kiss to that spot behind your ear. “Behave, little princess, or I’ll have to punish you the next time we're together like this.”

A shiver is sent down your spine, his beard hairs tickling your skin as his lips move down to assault your neck. He knows he can’t leave any marks in visible places, but he still likes to kiss your neck, regardless.

Your back arches slightly when lips mouths at your clothed breast and hardening nipple, a shaky sigh leaving your lips. Your hands tangle further in his graying hair, tugging the strands, earning you a deep guttural growl from Peter.

His fingers quickly pop the buttons of his shirt, pushing the garment off your shoulders, tossing it aside. He licks his lips at the sight of the sheer bra and your perky nipples popping up from beneath.

“Look at these pretty tits, princess.” He swipes the pads of his thumbs over the hardened buds, smirking when your breath hitches. “So eager.”

You subtly press your hips forward, gently rocking back and forth over his erection. Surprisingly, he doesn’t stop you, instead running his hands over your curves until they land on your thighs. He kneads the skin for a moment before landing a harsh smack on them, which makes you jump.

“On your knees, kiddo.”

His hands make quick work of his belt and the button on his pants, pushing the zipper down at a teasingly casual pace. His hand dips down beneath his plaid boxers and wraps around the base of his thick, veiny cock, giving it a few pumps before pulling it out.

You’re drooling at the sight, dropping down to your knees, sliding up between his spread legs. He smacks the mushroom head against your cheeks before his thumb presses down against your lower lip, encouraging your mouth to open.

He runs his thumb over your tongue, smirking as his other hand continues pumping his shaft. “This tight little mouth is gonna be the death of me, sweet girl.”

You whimper at his words, lips wrapping around his thumb, sucking and licking the digit gently, teasingly. He groans softly and begins to move it back and forth.

“So fucking desperate, aren’t you, princess? So desperate for my cock in your mouth that you start sucking my thumb...” He suddenly pulls it out of your mouth, quickly replacing it with his cock, smearing the precum gathered at his slit over your lips. 

His hand wraps around the back of your head as he scoots forward on the couch, finger pads gently rubbing your scalp. Your mouth opens to accept his length and he eases into your mouth slowly, a soft shaky breath emerging from his lips.

“Mmmmmmmm.”

Your eyes roll into the back of your head as your mouth is stuffed full of Peter’s cock. You’re pretty much adapted to his large, thick length, so you barely gag when he forces every inch of himself into your mouth. 

Peter stays there for a moment, then wastes no time guiding your head up and down his stiff rod. He grunts softly with each bob of your head, head falling back against the couch cushions, Adam’s apple bobbing with each harsh swallow he takes. 

“O-Oh fuuuuuck, kiddo.” He groans, hips beginning to move up in time with your strokes. “Such a good little mouth, stretching out so fucking well for me.”

You moan around him, sucking a bit harder. His hips suddenly buck up out-of-rhythm and his hand leaves the back of your head, instead gripping the couch cushions. 

His hips quickly take over, and you still your motions as he creates his own rhythm. You love seeing him take control, lose himself like this. Your eyes are glued to his face, watching it contort in pleasure as his hips rock up into your mouth at an urgent pace.

It’s not long before his thrusts become desperate and sloppy, noises steadily getting louder.

“Mmmmfffuuuuck, I’m close. Gonna shove my c-cum down your tight little t-throat, make you taste it f-for the rest of the day.”

With only a few more thrusts, he’s cumming, strangled groans accompanying each rope of seed shot down your throat. You moan, swallowing each and every drop eagerly. 

You pull off after stroking him through his climax, standing up. Before you can make any kind of movement or say anything, he sits up and cups your ass with his massive hands, kissing your lower abdomen.

“Grab your little clit vibrator for me, princess.” He says against your skin.

Nodding, you rush over to your dresser, pulling out your clit vibrator. You hand it to him and he smirks, tucking himself back into his pants.

“Lay back against me, keep your legs spread.”

You do as he says, laying back against his strong chest, holding your legs open by keeping your hands holding below the backs of your knees. His beard tickles your neck again while he reaches around and presses the vibrator against your clit, holding the power button to activate the small device.

“Oh!” You gasp, back arching.

Peter smirks against your skin, gently beginning to move the toy in circles over the sensitive nub, enjoying the small noises that escaped with almost every one of his motions. 

Your eyes squeeze shut, but suddenly fly open a few moments later when he lines up and pushes two of his thick digits into your soaked entrance. He lazily scissors them inside you while he turns the vibrator up a setting.

“M-Mr. Pennyham!” You moan softly, moving your hips in time with the silicon toy. “Ohhhhh my god...shit.”

His lips place sloppy, open-mouthed kisses all over the skin of your neck while his motions get quicker. His fingers begin stroking your walls with a pleasurable in-and-out pace.

The combination of his thick fingers pumping and the vibrations from the toy brings you up to the edge rather quickly. You’re panting; breathless as you grind yourself up against his ministrations.

“I’m g-gonna cum.” You breathe, eyes squeezing shut. “Gonna cu--ah!”

Your orgasm hits with a sudden intensity when he turns the vibrator up to the highest setting while his fingers curl up inside you, brushing against the special spot on your walls.

You bounce on top of him, grinding on his his fingers as you ride out your climax. He pulls the vibrator away and tosses it aside after feeling you begin to journey into overstimulation territory. 

He holds and squeezes your hips and continues to kiss your neck as you come down from your high.

“I should probably get going, kiddo. Aidy will be back soon and she can’t catch us like this.”

You sigh, nodding as you roll over off him, standing on shaky legs. He gives your ass a playful smack and plants a kiss on your cheek as he buckles his belt and prepares for his leave.

Before he walks out the door, though, he pauses and turns around. “I’ll see you this weekend for the birthday party, right?”

“Yes, sir. I’ll be there.” You nod.

His lips pull up into a small smile and he nods. “See you then, kiddo.”

“See you.”

[lucysometimeswrites]

Hey can you please make a award season one but for a latina reader, if you would like you can keep the tom element. Sorry I'm asking again I accidentally deleted the last ask I made. I love your writing, you are amazing.❤️☺️

thank you thank you so much ur so sweet and of course! here you go and i hope you like it :) absolutely loved writing for latina!reader 

Awards Season (latina!reader)

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“Here to present the award for Best Actress in a Leading Role, please welcome Meryl Streep!” the host announced. A roar came from the audience at the mention of her name, the very acclaimed actress welcoming the attention and making her way to the microphone.

“Oh, stop it” she said and waved them away, earning a laugh and even more cheering from the theatre. “If I’m honest, I really considered not presenting this award because it breaks me inside to give the Oscar to someone else when it’s rightfully mine” she said in a funny, raspy evil voice, resembling a witch, “But you know, sharing is caring or whatever. Alright let’s get to it.” she continued dejectedly, still joking.

“This year, we have been blessed with beautiful films and, along with them, incredible performances from beautiful and talented actresses. Viola Davis, your abilities to embody different characters and raise awareness to ongoing issues in society has always amazed us, and it does once again in Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom”, Meryl announced, the camera going to Viola who was sitting about 10 seats to my left, the audience (including me) applauding and praising her. Literally all of her performances are incredible.

Could I still believe I was here? Definitely not, and not any time soon. From small skits to my big break with Tom Holland in a stupid rom-com that I didn’t even want to make, to now. Tom knows it’s nothing against him, it’s just that I haven’t learned to appreciate romantic comedies the way he has, but the thing I loved most from doing it was finishing it with Tom. He had become such an important person in my life since that moment, what with guiding me through the newfound world of fame and being there for me when I joined the Marvel franchise, it was just more than I could ever dream of. Now I sit here at the freaking Oscars, with Tom Holland as my date, and having done one of the greatest films ever, nothing could keep the smile off my face. Or the nerves.

 My leg kept bouncing up and down, a nervous action I often did and one that the guy beside me had caught on to real quick when we first met. His warm hand gently squeezed my thigh, and I turned to look at him a little surprised.

“Hey, it’s okay” he softly said, his gaze soft and comforting.

“I didn’t even realize I was doing it” I answered in the same tone, whispering a thank you and letting my hand rest on top of his, weirdly interlocking our fingers. 

Meryl turned to where Olivia Colman was sitting, “Your Majesty,” she started, referencing her portrayals of royalty and causing her to chuckle, “your moving performances have always left us wanting more, and I’m sure that is what I and everyone felt when we saw you in The Father” a big smile broke out on her face, and cheering ensued once more for our queen, or at least one of mine.

“Aging is some we all go through...unfortunately,” Meryl uttered into the mic, touching up her almost white hair, “and you, Cynthia Erivo, made us relate to your character this way with your brilliant acting in Reaching 39″, that woman is simply amazing, I thought as I clapped and cheered with the audience.

“My dear Kate,” the camera panned to Kate Winslet, who just stared fondly at the woman on the stage, “watching you grow as an actress has been one of the pleasures of my life and you reach new heights both professionally and literally in Misdemeanors”, she is such an icon, oh my.

Finally, Meryl Streep turned to look at me in the front row with a grin on her face, and I quickly got into “camera mode”, as I like to call it. I sat up straighter, looking at her with gentle eyes and smile. 

“Señorita Y/N Y/L,” she started with the heavily accented Spanish word for Ms., “with your entrance into the world of filmmaking, you have set new expectations for all of us to reach. Even though this is your first nomination, I feel in my heart it won’t be the last, and we can’t wait to see more of you like we saw with your extraordinary performance in Paraíso” she finished, bringing a big smile to my face at her words. Turning to the camera, I became a bit shy and gave a small wave, feeling Tom squeeze my hand in comfort and another hand on my shoulder from behind. I turned to see Salma Hayek, one of my co-stars in the film, who gave me a strong nod and smile, loudly saying “Eso!” as a cheer for me.

“And the Oscar goes too...” ayyyyy no ay no que nervios que nervios que nervios me muero- all of this going through my head repeatedly but having to put on a smile and a calm façade for the camera was exhausting. Tranquila, tranquila, si no ganas está bien igual solo el hecho de estar aquí ya es lo más-

“Y/N Y/L, Paraíso!” Meryl announced, and all I heard were screams and loud clapping from around me. 

Shocked, I looked up with wide eyes and my jaw going slack a little. I felt a buzz fill my body and the idol on the stage beckoned me up, when I realized I hadn’t moved. I slowly stood up and instantly turned to Tom who quickly pulled me into his arms with a strong hug and whispering in my year, “I knew it! I knew you would do it darling. I’m so so proud of you babe, go get your award!” not giving me a chance to answer as he gave me a quick kiss and turned me around in the direction of the stage. Still in a bit of a daze, I didn’t see Salma, Eugenio (Derbez), and Benicio (del Toro) make their way to me, ambushing me in a group hug as they started jumping around and sort of with me, chanting “EH! EH! EH!” like Latinos at a party and causing me to laugh and come back to my senses. I hugged them all and continued to the stairs, stopping to hug my directors Guillermo del Toro and Alfonso Cuarón. 

I lifted my dress as I ascended the steps, and in true nervous fashion, stumbled and almost face planted in front of thousands of people. 

“Uy, mierda” I chuckled to myself, and accepted the help of none other than Chris Evans who lent his arm for the remaining steps. I thanked him with a smile and after his Congrats!, I made my way to Meryl who held the famous award in her hands. She handed it to me and pulled me into her embrace, saying “Beautiful job, sweetheart, you’re amazing”, and all I could answer was “Oh my, thank you so much, you’re the amazing one”, sharing a laugh with her and standing in front of the mic.

I looked out into the audience, who were still giving me a standing ovation. Almost like a camera in my head, I tried to ingrain this moment in my mind and took a deep breath, starting my speech.

“God, I really hope I don’t forget any words in English right now” I said with a breathless laugh, inciting one from the people below me. “Thank you so much. Thank you to...um...so many people. To the Academy for this great, great honor. To my fellow nominees for inspiring me every single day. Being in the same room as you is already insane, let alone being nominated with you, it’s just- it’s truly out of this world. Viola, Olivia, Kate, Cynthia, you are my literal idols and if I could physically cut this Oscar into five pieces,” I said as I made a motion of cutting the award and humoured the audience, “I would give a piece to all of you. Um, thank you to my team, my agent, Victoria, te adoro y te agradezco for believing in me and helping me live out my dream. Sorry, I’m probably gonna switch between languages during this.” I said with a laugh. 

“Paraíso was a project that, for me, came out of nowhere. But for my extraordinary directors los señores Guillermo del Toro and Alfonso Cuarón, it was a life’s work so to you, gracias por darme la oportunidad de darle vida a Marielos and for giving me the experience of a lifetime. Salma, Eugenio, Benicio, Gael, and all the cast and crew, thank you for becoming my second family and supporting me every step of the way. It has been my honor to work with you” I said with a hand on my chest, showing that I was speaking from my heart and smiling at the kisses and cheers sent to me from them, hearing a crazed Te amamos! from Eugenio. It eased the tension in my body which I was incredibly thankful for. 

“I also want to thank-” I stopped, getting a little choked up, “ha, sorry, it’s my family that couldn’t be here” I said, a wave of claps and cheering in comfort came from the audience. Quickly composing myself, I continued, “Ya, okay. All the way back home, lo hice! Familia, les dije que no les iba a agradecer si me ganaba un Oscar algún día por no creer en mi y hoy es ese día, pero no me lo perdonaría si no les agradezco. Gracias por apoyarme a pesar de que yo sé que les dio un ataque que quisiera ser actriz. Gracias por siempre estar ahí para mi, por quererme incondicionalmente y por enseñarme que trabajando duro todo se puede lograr. Los amo infinitamente.” I finished, with tears threatening to roll down my eyes. I tilted my head to the sky to prevent them from falling, and with a deep breath I turned to Tom who had his hands in a prayer stance while looking intently at me, the same smile from before still gracing his face.

“Tommy...” I started, and the audience audibly awed at the nickname, “Oh, you don’t even know what I’m gonna say to him” I said with narrowed eyes, but my gaze found my love once more.

“Thank you so much for being my rock ever since we met. I’m beyond thankful for you and all you do for me, baby. You make me the happiest and thank you for pushing me to do things that scare me. For being there for me in case I fall and for being my person. Te amo, amor.” I blowed him a kiss which he caught and jokingly used to wipe his tears, making me and the other celebrities laugh.

Please wrap up, I read from the screen, and let out and “Ay, perdón! I gotta wrap up sorry sorry” hurriedly finishing up my speech. 

“Lastly, this award goes out to all the Latina girls out there with big dreams. Nunca se den por vencidas. No dejen que nadie les diga que no porque de que se puede, se puede. Querer es poder! I love you guys, my fans oh my gosh, thank you thank you, gracias!” I rushed out, raising the award to the air with one last big smile as Meryl guided me backstage to answer some questions. Just before I was off sight, I turned and looked out to the stage once more.

Lo logré...

---------------------------------------------------------------

once again, disclaimer, movie names are mostly fictitious. feedback and requests always welcome!

[ktheist]

muses. brother’s best friend / housemate / touchy!yoongi

min yoongi was everything you hated in a man. clingy, sleeps too much and sloth-y. if anyone had eyes, they’d know that you’re a clingy hug away from committing murder on campus.

“hey, pumpkin,” a dead weight snakes around your shoulders and a hand wraps around your wrist, directing the fry you’re about to pop into your mouth to his mouth.

“what the-” venom drips off your words.

“babe, i missed you!” jennie whines, wounding her arm around min yoongi’s friend, who happens to be her boyfriend.

in fact, your world going down a wayward spiral started with jennie’s secretive ‘i’m texting a boy, he’s kinda cute!’ to a full out ‘i’m dating kim taehyung!’ a month later. and with that, came the grueling begging of her trying to get you to agree to go to dinner as a ‘her friends meets his friends’ kind of thing.

you thought to put up with it once but for some reason, after a few hang outs too many, min yoongi has come to calling you a ridiculous nickname and putting his hands on you whenever he sees you.

“they’re so in love, aren’t they?” the boy next to you snickers while his free hand snakes down to your thigh.

“what do you think you’re doing?”

the whine that slips out of his mouth doesn’t bring you satisfaction even if you’re the one who opt for pinching his hand with all your might.

he looks at you, eyes looking like the midnight lake, sparkling with moonlight, “my hand slipped. did you have to pinch me that hard?”

“oh hey, lisa,” hoseok greets your blonde haired, doll-like friend, “we’re having a match with xxx university, you wanna join?”

at the mention of the long standing rival of your uni, lisa’s delicate features break into that of an angel of death, “the fuck? they have the nerve to fuck with us? that-”

“oh wow, she’s fired up, isn’t she?” yoongi chuckles, his breath fanning your cheek.

you still your hand from coming up to fan your face. why is it hot all of a sudden?

“yeah, her ex-best friend goes there and they’ve been competing against each other in dance ever since,” you say plainly, not realizing it’d spark a different kind of fire.

a loud smack echoes in the air as you look at the hand on the table and up at the owner of said hands, “we were never friends! let alone best friends!”

“o-oh yeah, my bad, you and your non-best friend’s been trying to take each other down since you both left high school,” you lean backwards to widen the distance between her hand and your face but consequentially, you end up leaning into min yoongi who gladly welcomes you into his arms, locking his hands together over your chest and trapping you in a hug.

“so, you guys gonna practice before the match?” yoongi’s ask is what makes her snap her head at the man happily munching on her meal after she had her attention averted to a certain non-best friend.

“hobi, we’re gonna practice till our limbs feel like falling off,” and with that, she drags the man away, his whines and begging to finish the (her) food falling on deaf ears.

for the briefest moment, things seem to have calmed down. that is, until you turn your head to the smiley boy clinging onto you like a koala.

“what? i saved you from lisa’s wrath.” he states, as if sensing your own wrath coming to surface if he doesn’t-

“get off me,” you order, glaring daggers at the boy.

“make me,” he smirks, the gummy smile now gone and for some reason, your heart’s beating too fast than your body can handle.

“seriously, what’s wrong with you? jimin’s right there, why can’t you go and cling onto him? at least he’s your friend. i barely even know you,” you sigh, feeling his arms loosening around you yet your chest is the one clenching as he drops his gaze.

“___, you’re breaking my heart,” he bumps his head to yours, those dark brown eyes glinting with a sort of deviousness that you know will do you no good if you hang around him any longer, “especially when we’ve kn-”

“my class is starting in ten.”

he doesn’t stop you when you stand up, his arms slipping away from your body like withered vines on stone wall.

that’s the last you see of min yoongi. well, until you’re walking out of the ecology club, fist smacking against that sore spot on your shoulder as you trail behind your club mates. the meeting about the outdoor event to raise awareness on carbon print ended a little later than you thought it would and by the end of it, everyone’s like a walking corpse.

“i thought you’d never come out,” a voice husks from behind you as your body freezes and your heart jumps to your throat.

“what the fuck, min yoongi?” you glare at the gummy smiley boy who doesn’t seem to bear an ounce of guilt for causing your soul to astral project into oblivion.

“did i scare you?” he chuckles, “don’t worry, johnny won’t get you as long as i’m here.”

“johnny?” you feel your eyebrows coming together in annoyance rather than confusion.

“you know, the ghost that’s living in the ecology club room,” he raises his eyebrows twice as if insinuating something.

you scoff.

“oh yoongi, you’re been waiting for ___?” jisoo waves from a few steps ahead, “you guys going back together?”

“no- wait-” you’re about to run after your friends when an arm wraps around your waist and pulls you to a warm body.

“yeah, drive safe guys!” the boy waves, smiling that stupid smile until the car’s out of sight.

placing one hand on his chest, you push him away from you until you’re at least three feet apart, “seriously, why’d you have to wait for me? i could’ve gone home on my own.”

“what do you mean why? because i wanted to see you sooner,” he grins, arms wrapping around your waist as he rests his chin on top of your head.

“w-what the hell,” you fumble with your words, turning away as your cheeks flare up with warmth, “let’s just go,” you say, holding onto yoongi’s pinky finger and dragging him with you.

you get home before 10 o’clock despite yoongi’s whining to take the longer route home along the river.

“oh, you’re back? whew, i was worried there for a sec,” seokjin’s voice rings throughout the house as he greets you from his room, “but i shouldn’t be since yoongi’s with you. it’s lucky you guys got into the same uni.”

“i could’ve gone home with my friends,” you say almost sulkily, glaring at the boy who’s walking towards his own room as if he’s ready to black out as soon as his head hits the pillow.

“yoongi, you’re not gonna have dinner?” seokjin asks.

“nah, i’ll sleep first.” and with that, the door of the room across from your brother’s clicks shut.

“he really needs to get his sleep schedule fixed,” the older man shakes his head whilst you place the plate of fried rice seokjin made into the microwave.

“let him be, he’s a grown man, he can take care of himself. you cooking for him is more than-” you can’t even finish your sentence when seokjin’s fast padded footsteps crosses the hallway and to the kitchen. hands shaking your body more than an earthquake could.

 “___, do you... do you really see yoongi as a man? are you guys dating?!” seokjin’s concerned gaze bores into yours, offering you no escape unless you answer him.

“no? i mean, he’s grown - we all grew up, seokjin, we’re in uni,” you say in a matter of factly. every once in awhile, seokjin gets a wake up call that-

“oh thank god,” he envelops you into a bear hug, “i thought my baby sister was interested in my best friend.”

well, guess that wake up call just got pushed back.

you suppose you get where seokjin’s coming from. just three little kids with mismatched ages growing up together in the same neighborhood. you climb trees together, scrape your knees falling off the swings and treat each other to health.

but it was seokjin who introduced you to yoongi. back then, whoever knew whoever first, got the first friend privilege. it was just some dumb rules the kids from the neighborhood came up with. and everyone wanted to be friends with min yoongi who had the chubbiest cheeks and the cutest smile. but seokjin always prided himself to be yoongi’s best friends and the latter never denied it. in a way, the two of them had a sort of bond that nobody could touch, let alone break.

something like brothers for life kind of thing.

because of that, min yoongi had always been your brother’s best friend. 

“___, you’re not asleep yet?” a voice rings from behind you where the hallway to your bedrooms lie.

“i’ve got some club stuff to settle,” you say, not away from your laptop as you sit on the spot between the couch and coffee table. an energy drink a few inches away.

“you’re always so busy,” tresses of soft hair tickles your cheek as a head leans on your shoulder, the warmth of another body making you all warm inside.

you sigh, a smile playing on your lips. at times like this, when min yoongi’s barely awake - there’s no way you can push him away, is there?

“you’re the one that has too much free time on your hand,” you say, shaking your head.

the sound of the tapping keyboard fills the otherwise silent room. you thought he’d fallen asleep with his head on your shoulder.

“...you...” he murmurs under his breath, “...i like you.”

your cheeks heat up, body instinctively recoiling from the body that’s leaned up against you as if - as if you’re just realizing that min yoongi is, in every sense of nature, a man.

a shirtless man, at that.

it wasn’t unusual to see him and your brother walking around shirtless since there’s not much to see. but you’ve always known yoongi’s not half bad, he’s got some underlying abs from those days of playing basketball in high school and he’s in the basketball team in uni.

so why are you getting all embarrassed seeing a shirtless min yoongi stare up at you like he’s waiting for you to say something that will make him or break him - now?

x

note. a little skit from my fried brain. hope yall enjoyed!