#it genuinely sounds like a comedy if you pick the right lines

[two-crows-in-a-trenchcoat]

I think in future I'm just gonna give people out of context lines to convince them to listen to tma

I can convince them its a comedy with this

my personal favourite "sleep is for the weak"

[popbloganddropit]

The Tortured Poets Department - Taylor Swift (Part 2)

9. Guilty as Sin? - you cheeky little minx, Taylor!!! I’m not sure she’s made me blush like this before! A song about…fantasizing outside of your relationship that sounds like the first day warm sun hits your skin after a long, cold winter. And I personally love a song with some good old fashioned yearning, so the bridge really takes it over the top for me. 5/5

Best Line: I really love a lot of lines here, but if “Drowning in the Blue Nile, he sent me ‘Downtown Lights’” is such a killer opener.

10. Who’s Afraid of Little Old Me?- this song is an insane, showstopping moment. Edgy, raging, biting, and even still a little witty - “So tell me everything is not about me. But what if it is?” WAOLOM strikes such a good balance of being self-aware of her image and faults with genuine anger. Being the biggest pop star doesn’t make everything just roll off your back. Perfect production that builds and escalates exactly as it needs to. 5/5

Best Line: “I was tame, I was gentle 'til the circus life made me mean. ‘Don't you worry, folks, we took out all her teeth’”

11. I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can) - I really like the pseudo-western vibe going on and that lower register is always welcome in my books, but lyrically this doesn’t do a lot for me. It’s building to a punchline we all know is coming. She can’t fix him, shocking, and there’s not enough for me to root for the protagonist being delusional. Ending with just, “Whoa, maybe I can’t” is funny, but it’s not satisfying. If a common complaint is that this album is too long, this song doesn’t feel essential, story-wise. 2.5/5

Best Line: I said all of that, but I do really like the second verse, the best part being, “His hand so calloused from his pistol/Softly traces hearts on my face”.

12. loml- I had a really hard time picking a best line for this song. I almost made a list but decided that would be a little obnoxious. There’s references to her other work expertly weaved in to really great wordplay and metaphors and imagery. The development of the story in the three times you hear the chorus is stunningly good. It’s a pretty simple piano in the background with additional vocal layers right where they are needed for emphasis. There’s something a little bit missing from this song for me to give it a full 5, but I can’t quite put my finger on it and I also think loml really is a grower that’s not meant to be gobbled down in one bite. There’s a lot of lyrical details to be noticed and anything additional might take away from that. I vote this song most likely to be my favorite in 6 months that I don’t understand how it took so long to fully click. 4.5/5

Best Line: I had to do two, from the very beginning and end, that echo each other so it’s kind of like I only picked one then, right??? “Who's gonna stop us from waltzing back into rekindled flames if we know the steps anyway?” —-> “Our field of dreams, engulfed in fire. Your arson's match your somber eyes” Kill me (complimentary). The never before, never since turning into never before and ever since is also brilliant.

13. I Can Do It With a Broken Heart - This song is great. There’s a long history of Miss Swift making bops tinged with depression and anxiety and this may be her most unhinged version yet. A celebration of putting on a brave face when you’re going through some shit. Chanted like a mantra she tells herself, we get a peek behind the curtain of reaching glittering professional peaks not seen in this generation while her personal life was crashing. But no one can ever say Taylor Swift is not a professional - I love the delivery on the outro where she laughs off being miserable and ends with a little spoken zinger. Try and come for her job, indeed. 5/5

Best Line: “I’m so depressed, I act like it’s my birthday everyday. I’m so obsessed with him, but he avoids me like the plague,” tickles me so. This her comedy album. Inevitably going to go viral on Tik Tok at some point.

14. The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived - An absolutely killer bridge. It builds the drama up until the very end. Unfortunately, the verses could use a little stronger melody, the first half of the song is a little forgettable and feels a little clunky. 3/5

Best Line: “You kicked out the stage lights, but you’re still performing” is a close runner up but had to go with the opening of the bridge. “Were you sent by someone who wanted me dead?” is such a perfect escalation and so descriptive of a feeling without saying any feeling words.

15. The Alchemy- I really enjoy some parts of this song but I unfortunately have the desire to hire someone to dub over every single football reference so I can fully get into it. It’s too much, it’s too on the nose. I like the verses, I love the way she says, “I haven’t come around in so long,” and I think “who are we to fight the alchemy?” is a great line. There are just parts that feel like football Mad Libs in a way that makes this song pretty unlistenable to me. 1/5

Best Line: “This happens once every few lifetimes. These chemicals hit me like white wine”

16. Clara Bow - She’s known for writing about relationships and that has let the fact that songs about her relationship with fame are consistently top tier (despite being unrelatable to almost anyone since she is the most famous person on the planet) slip by mostly unnoticed. One of my favorite Taylor tricks is when she alters the lines a bit each go-round and/or flips the script in some way in the final chorus and this song is really an excellent combination of some of the best Taylor moves. I’m not going to pretend have known who Clara Bow was before this record, but it works and I don’t mind an album that makes me do a little Googling to understand some things. The Stevie Nicks reference is perfection. Saying her own name in a song really snaps you to attention. And I think this is a perfect album closer. She’s reckoning just as much with her own desire for notoriety and the consequences that go along with it as she is with former lovers, if you’re listening. 5/5

Best Line: “Crowd goes wild at her fingertip. Half moonshine, a full eclipse.” I’m not even sure I should include the first part. “Half moonshine, full eclipse” is one of my favorite things she’s ever written. (Side note as this is the most appropriate place to put it: the fucking personal poem from Stevie in the liner notes??? Stevie being a loud YOYO,K stan??? I weep at the coolness. Which is the opposite of cool and continuing to comment on it is even worse, sorry!)

Part 3 on the way!!!

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

Here’s something that bothers me in comedy shows, and I genuinely don’t know whether I’m right to find this annoying. It’s also not just comedians who talk about it, you get thinkpieces and stuff about this too, and those also annoy me. But lately I’ve happened to hear a lot of comedians bring it up.

It’s when people talk about the “liberal bubble”. The way leftists are driving people away from their cause by being so nitpicky, so extreme in their views, refusing to accept anyone who steps out of line even a little bit. Most of the time, this claim comes from left-wing people, who just think we as leftists need to talk about being more accepting of differing views.

I watched Daniel Sloss’ new-ish special Socio last week, and there’s a bunch in there about it. He says he’s left-wing, but sometimes he wishes he weren’t, because it’s so annoying that you have to be perfect or the leftists won’t accept you. Like if you’re not every single thing they want you to be, they’ll call you a fascist. They’ll ask, are you pro-LGBTQ people? Yes? Okay, then are you anti-racist? Yes? Then are you anti-sexist? Yes? Then are you a vegan? No? Then fuck you!

It's always veganism, isn’t it? It’s always veganism that’s used as the example of left-wing people taking it too far, imposing their views on everyone else. And I think that’s because it’s just about the only left-wing view that actually isn’t a reasonable thing to want to impose on everyone else. I mean, Daniel Sloss’ routine would not work nearly so well if he swapped veganism for anything else. “Are you pro-LGBTQ people? Yes? Okay, then are you anti-racist? Yes? Then are you a vegan? Yes? Then are you anti-sexist? No? Then fuck you!” Do the routine that way, and the answer is… well, yes. Yes, leftists are correct to say that misogynists can fuck off even if they’re cool in other ways. It’s actually fair to expect people to not be bigoted against any vulnerable section of society, that’s not too many things to ask.

If someone is going around calling someone a fascist or a murderer for not being vegan, then that is shitty behaviour. And maybe it happens more often than I think it does. But I have never, in real life, heard anyone say that there’s anything wrong with not being a vegan. I haven’t met many vegans at all, but the ones I’ve met have never been dicks about it. On the internet, I have very occasionally come across vegans suggesting that meat-eaters are murderers. But I haven’t come across that nearly as often as I’ve come across people complaining about how vegans think meat-eaters are murderers.

I used Daniel Sloss as the example because I happened to have watched him do it recently, but I’ve heard other comedians do this, and often use vegans as their example, I think for the same reason Daniel Sloss did. It’s the only one that it’s okay to pick on. In Alun Cochrane’s “why I’ve decided to go right-wing” 2021 special, he talked a lot about feeling that his views and beliefs are not accepted by the leftist bubble of his comedy friends, but he rarely goes into detail about what those beliefs are. A common tactic used by the “outraged about cancel culture” crowd, because it’s easier to say “accept my beliefs” than “accept my belief that [then actually say what shitty thing they believe]”. The one “belief” for which he claims to have been persecuted and he does discuss in detail is eating meat. He tells a story about another comedian calling him a murderer for not being a vegan, and then says this is a sign of how rigid and un-accepting leftists have become.

Again, that story wouldn’t work as well with just about anything else. “Another comedian told me to stop saying hateful things about Muslims, how could they be so mean as to not accept my beliefs?” doesn’t sound as good. But yeah, if another comedian did, in fact, call Alun Cochrane a murderer for eating meat, then that comedian was being a dick and should not have said that. But also, I’m quite sure he was full of shit when claiming that all his comedian friends, due to comedy being such a “liberal bubble”, now consider him a fascist just for eating meat.

In fact, I can be completely sure of that, because I know who his comedian friends are. If he’d just talked about his friends in general, then I’d say, okay, I guess it’s technically possible that he’s befriended a group of radical hardline vegans somewhere. But he specifically talked a lot about the comedy community being a liberal bubble full of radical vegans, and I do know what comedians he hangs out with (or used to hang out with, at least), and they’re not. One of his comedian friends has material about how much he loves pork despite being Jewish, and another has material about how he doesn’t eat meat but hates that it might make people uncomfortable when he tells them that, as he has no problem with other people who make different choices. Some comedians might be radical vegans, but card-carrying Chocolate Milk Gang member Alun Cochrane definitely knows at least a few who aren’t.

Also, one of Alun Cochrane’s comedian friends was telling a story in his stand-up around 2017 about how he’d recently stopped eating meat, even though his friend Alun had tried to talk him out of that choice by saying humans are meant to be meat-eaters. So maybe it’s not only the vegans who try to impose their dietary choices on other people.

It is true, I have noticed, that a lot of British comedians are vegan or vegetarian. Definitely a disproportionate percentage of them, compared to the general population. And I assume that is related to the fact that comedians tend to veer leftward, more than the general population does. I don’t know any vegans in real life at the moment, have only come across a few throughout my life, but the folder of stand-up comedy on my hard drive is absolutely full of vegans. And I have never heard a single one of them suggest that there’s anything wrong with eating meat.

(...Wait, sorry, I finished writing this post, and then came back here to say I’ve just remembered the extremely weird movie called Carnage that Simon Amstell made. So it’s not technically true to say that none of the comedians on my hard drive have said there’s something wrong with eating meat. One out of the large number of them has definitely said that, and he got Mawaan Rizwan to act it out, it was weird. Okay, fair enough, Alun, if you happen to have spent a lot of time with Simon Amstell, then I can believe another comedian has repeatedly called you a murderer for eating meat. Just stop hanging out with Simon Amstell then. It’s not that big a deal.)

I do know that the vegans are right, by the way. I’m not a vegan for the same reason why I sometimes order things from Amazon: sometimes I pick nice things, like 2-day delivery or the taste of steak, over making the most ethical choice. But I know it’s much better to not eat meat, for a huge number of reasons. I’ve noticed that a lot of comedians are vegan just because every time one of them mentions being a vegan, it sticks in my mind a little as a reminder that some people make more ethical choices than I do, and then I feel vaguely guilty about it. But that’s fine. They’re not trying to make me feel guilty. It’s good that people feel vaguely guilty about not making the ethical choice. I feel that way when I order stuff on Amazon as well, and sometimes I feel it enough to actually not order the thing. So, you know, guilt can have benefits.

It’s not just about veganism, people criticize the “liberal bubble” for all kinds of things. For arguing about the use of words more than the actions behind them, getting bogged down in discourse and in moral purity in ways that are detrimental to the cause and hurt innocent people. For demanding perfection from its members. For refusing to accept even slightly differing points of view. And some of those criticisms are technically fair.

Daniel Sloss talked about it, like I said. Tim Minchin had some stuff about that in his 2022 tour Back. He talked a lot about leftists who demand semantic purity specifically, and I can understand why that issue seems like a big one to him. He used the word “faggot” in his recent-ish autobiographical song Talked Too Much and Stayed Too Long (an awesome song, by the way). I haven’t seen people get mad about that song, but I’m sure it happened. I assume if you’re Tim Minchin, and therefore hear every complaint that gets submitted about Tim Minchin saying faggot in a song, then it's going to seem like a huge number of people got incredibly angry about that song. Even if it was only a small percentage of people who heard it.

Personally, I think it’s fine that Tim Minchin said faggot. Obviously context matters – if he actually called someone that, even as a joke, I wouldn’t think that was okay. In this case, the context was Tim Minchin listing things that other people have called him throughout his career. “I’ve been a bigot and a faggot, I’ve been smug and ugly.” The politics of slur reclamation are complicated, but as far as I’m concerned, if you’ve been called a word, you should be allowed to tell people you were called that word. I also think context and intention are more important than the use of a word itself. Repeating something someone else said to point out that saying this is bad is not the same as using a word as a weapon yourself. Though even within that rule, exceptions exist (the big one being: don’t use the N word if you’re not black, hard and fast rule with no exceptions regardless of context and intention, and if you don’t think it’s fair that that one slur works that way and others are more flexible, then take it up with the people who perpetrated hundreds of years of slavery – having said that, there are comedians I like who’ve said that word in the past, and I disagree with their choice to say that word in any context, but I can still forgive that enough to like them anyway if I think the context was reasonable and it was long enough ago and I don’t think they’d say it now).

I realize there’s even some debate about whether I, as a female gay person, should be allowed to use a word that describes the male ones. But I would direct you to the man who shouted “faggot” at us while I held hands with my then-girlfriend on the sidewalk in 2012, because his mother had clearly never taught him the word dyke. Like I said, if a word’s been aimed at you, you should get to use it. When my girlfriend and I arrived at our destination and met up with our friends, we at least deserved to be allowed to tell those friends what slur we’d been called.

Those are my views, and a reasonable and progressive person could have different ones. I think it’s reasonable if a different gay person has a problem with Tim Minchin saying faggot, and I think a reasonable debate can be had about when it is and isn’t okay. I can also believe that some people may have been unreasonable about it, saying terrible things like suggesting a comedy musician should die because he used a certain word. That is bad, and it’s fair enough if Tim Minchin wants to say so, and wants to talk about the toxicity created by things like that.

So I do see where he was coming from, but it still felt disproportionate. Just like it felt disproportionate when Daniel Sloss went on about all those people who are so leftist that they’ll hate you for having a single less-than-progressive view, and when Alun Cochrane claimed that all comedians were persecuting him for eating meat. Maybe one or two people did say something unreasonable, but are there really enough of them to constitute a mob? Is this really big enough to be a problem in society?

Because I don’t see it. When I hear people talk about the “liberal bubble”, I think the same way that I do when people say it’s great that this female action hero is also really feminine, because it shows girls that they can be strong and kick ass while still liking makeup! What movies are you all watching that are full of butch female action heroes, to the point where it’s unusual and revolutionary representation to show that strong female characters can wear dresses too? Similarly, what world are you all living in where everyone is so progressive that your big problem is everyone being too progressive? Seriously, what world is it? Where is this liberal bubble? It sounds great! I wish I could live there!

Obviously, my view on this is coloured by my own experience. The main “bubble” I live in is my sports community; most people involved with this sport mainly know other people who are also involved with this sport, it’s such an all-consuming thing that it’s hard to have a lot of connections outside it. So it definitely qualifies as a bubble, and it is not a liberal one. In 2020, one of the most famous American athletes in our sport accepted the Presidential Medal of Freedom from Donald Trump. This news did not shock me, because I’ve never liked that guy anyway. What did bother me were the comments under an article about it. So many people saying how great it is that President Donald Trump supports our noble sport. One comment said that of course Obama would never give this medal to anyone from our sport, because it’s a sport mostly done by conservatives, so the liberal elites hate it. My immediate instinct was to say “fuck you, how fucking dare you speak for our entire community that way”, but then I thought about my Facebook feed, mainly people from this sport and also full of COVID conspiracy theories, and I realized, I think they’re right. I’m the one in the minority here.

My actual friends are decent people, obviously. My close friends within our sports community were not the ones posting about Plandemics. But we’re all in the minority within the wider sports community. Honestly, when I listened to Alun Cochrane’s comedy special about having gone right-wing and feeling out of place among leftie comedians, I actually understood that a bit. I mean, fuck him, fuck his beliefs, fuck anyone who tries to tell me that leftists should not be allowed to say “fuck you” to shitty beliefs, I am not trying to defend Alun Cochrane. But all the people saying we should try to find “common ground with the other side” will be pleased to know that I did find a bit of common ground with Alun Cochrane in that special. I related to a bit of what he said about feeling like you’re in the minority, belief-wise, in your own social community. So it’s similar, but not equivalent, because, you know, my beliefs are objectively better than his. They’re not objectively better than everyone’s, lots of people are smarter than me, and there is lots of room for reasonable debate. But they’re objectively better than Alun Cochrane’s. Alun Cochrane made a “blue hair and pronouns” joke in 2021, and then went on Comedy Unleashed and said the government shouldn’t pay to feed low-income children at Christmas. Seriously, I’m not looking to have a lot of common ground with him.

So it makes sense that I haven’t experienced this liberal bubble everyone talks about. But also, there are reasons why I would have seen it if it were that big an issue. I live right downtown in a city of a million people, in one of the most progressive places in Canada. I live next to a neighbourhood that people joke about for being full of hippies and hipsters. When I go into that neighbourhood, I see the rainbow flags and the vegan cafes and the transgender bookstore (that’s not a joke or anything, there actually is one, it’s basically Portlandia and it’s pretty cool), and they make me happy. I go there to buy groceries, and never once has anyone yelled at me for purchasing meat. I’m a fairly gender non-conforming mostly gay woman – I wouldn’t be able to have friends who went against a few things on Daniel Sloss’ List of Things That Leftists Are Unreasonable For Demanding Everyone Follow. Also, I hang out on Tumblr, which is basically Leftist Bubble: The Website.

Despite all this, I have never seen a bubble where I thought it being too leftist was a significant problem, anywhere near on the level of what happens on the other side. That doesn’t mean they don’t exist at all. I’m sure they do exist, and I’m sure they are, in a few rare cases, a genuine problem. But are they really as big a problem as they’re often made out to be? I’ve heard people complain about this stuff so much more often than I’ve actually seen it happening.

Do you know what I’m dealing with in day-to-day life right now? On my team, we’ve been having problems all year with the male athletes becoming increasingly sexist toward the female athletes and even the female coaches, and repeating some attitudes that we know they’re getting directly from the Joe-Rogan-to-Andrew-Tate pipeline. We recently found out that one of our co-coaches, one of my oldest friends whom I first met when he was my high school teammate back in 2006, has been encouraging that. Specifically told a few of the athletes, at one point, that Andrew Tate has said some good stuff. Has been working, behind the scenes, to encourage some of the male athletes who want separate practices from the female athletes, and telling them that they’re right to not want to work with girls. It’s been going on for a while but I had no idea about it until recently. We’re struggling to work out how to deal with it, whether to confront the guy about it, how to mitigate the damage he’s done. I’m also struggling with feeling incredibly betrayed on a personal level; I’ve known this guy for so long, and I’ve been through so much with him over all these years, and I thought I knew him better than that. (So you can maybe scratch what I said earlier about all my personal friends being all right when it comes to this.)

Basically, I wrote this entire post because I watched that Daniel Sloss special while dealing with this other problem, and it just made me say, “Come on, even if there is a bit of a problem with some leftists being too rigid in their thinking, does it fucking matter?” Because not to play Oppression Olympics or anything, but my problem is bigger than yours. My problem is big enough to make me think yours doesn’t matter at all by comparison. And my problem is so far from being the biggest one – there are so many victims of the right-wing takeover of culture who have it much, much worse than I do. Who cares if some leftists didn’t like Tim Minchin using a word? Honestly, who cares if one guy was a dick to Alun Cochrane about being vegan once? It’s not that big a deal. The world is burning because people think regulating carbon emissions is too woke, and in light of that, radical vegans are not that big a deal. At least those people are trying to do the right thing.

Just after watching the Daniel Sloss special, I watched Tom Ballard’s 2022 special, Enough. I really really enjoyed that one, and I recommend it highly. He also had some material about the “liberal bubble”, but had a take on it that I found refreshingly different. He said he knows he lives in a liberal bubble, and he likes it there, it’s great. He had a whole routine about how people say leftists need to “listen to the other side”, but it’s not like the other side will listen to us, and he’ll hear out Joe Rogan the day Joe Rogan starts reading progressive thinkpieces on Medium.com (it was something like that, it’s been a few days since I saw it and I’m butchering his material, it was really funny and people should watch the special). He also made some jokes that used the same basic premise as that one Chris Rock joke (that we can trade roles in society if white people want to say the black people slur so badly, “you shout [slur that I won’t write down] and I’ll raise interest rates”): the leftist bubble might control the arts, but the right-wingers get to control the governments and corporations and actually run society, and if they’re going to complain about the arts being too much of a liberal bubble, then we’d be happy to trade. I agreed the fuck out of that. I laughed because it was funny and I agreed the fuck out of it – see, Stewart, it’s okay, sometimes it can be both.

The other comedian I can immediately think of who’s done stuff like this is Michael Legge, who started one of his shows by saying he’s a left-wing man, but it may be hard to tell that because he is not currently arguing with someone he basically agrees with about one tiny point of divergence. I like that joke, because that is something I have seen. Leftists arguing over tiny differences, often semantic ones. We do that all the time, we love that shit. But most of the time, I’ve seen that happen among people who were friends before and after that discussion, and are just arguing as a hobby.

The toxic rigid no-room-for-deviation liberal bubble thing – I’m sure it exists, but it just can’t be as big a problem as people think. And if someone’s really struggling that much with it, then I have a sport they can join where they’ll never have the problem of being surrounded by too many progressives again. Seriously... if you’re in a liberal bubble and sick of it, please join us. We really need more people from liberal bubbles to balance out the rampant antivaxxers and straight-up misogynists.

[poguestvff]

CALL ME BACK P. 2 — JJ MAYBANK

in which, JJ and Y/n finally reconcile whilst sat on the bathroom floor

taglist | masterlist | 1.8k words

warning(s): very small descriptions of wounds, angst if you squint, fluff, for the most part, and nothing else i dont think. she/her pronouns part one !!!

The ringing of the phone beside her hadn't made y/n budge instantly. She wasn't expecting a call, her parents knew where she was and who she was with, her friends knew where she was and who she was with. she didn't exactly think there was a reason for a phone call so she let it ring. When a soft ding followed it, the boy beside her let out a sigh.

She raised from the bed, sitting up as she stretched her arms above her head. Y/n picked up her phone from the small table as she noticed the photo she had tried posting finally went through, the tagging of Topper's account making his phone go off as well. She swiped down to the notification center, finding a voicemail from JJ. Her heart seemed to sink within her chest momentarily. She hadn't seen that name in a couple of days, hadn't come in contact with him in a couple of weeks.

It wasn't something she wanted, it was something she needed. Something they needed; Space from one another. She should've seen it coming, hurdling at her at a rapid pace since the time they'd began dating, but she ignored just about every sign until it was right in front of her. She never blamed him, she never would blame him. Y/n understood he had a troubled time showing affection, he was her best friend after all, she knew him in and out, there was no reason to not hold a candle to his name.

Seeing his name made a mountain of things run through her head. Questions upon questions on whether she should listen but a gut feeling made her decision final as she lifted the device to her ear. "Uh, hey. Hey, Y/n/n." She could hear the shakiness, the sound of hesitance that wavered within his voice. "I don't know why I called... Yes, I do. I just really need someone right now and—and everyone's gone. I didn't know who to call except you. Just... just if you get a minute call me back." Then the line went silent.

She looked over to Topper, the boy sleeping sound beside her on his stomach previously though now he lay, staring right back at her. "Was that maybank?" He asked in a groggy tone, a yawn following as he rubbed at his eyes. She hummed, pushing her legs over the side of the bed. "Why did he call?"

"I uh... he didn't say." she said in a low, confused tone, holding the phone in her lap. She couldve called him back, she probably should've. But she didn't know how she'd react if she heard his voice and have to listened to his pained tone again. She typed out several different messages, all in preparation to send but she couldn't decide on which one immediately.

"It's too early, just go back to sleep." Topper said, pulling lightly at the back of her shirt. She looked over her shoulder to him, seeing a tired smile on his face that she didn't reciprocate. "What?"

"I really have to go, Top." She told him as he let out a sigh, turning over on to his back to stare at the ceiling. "He needs me—"

"Just like how Pope needed you to come to dinner the other day or like how Kiara needed your help to chose an outfit."

She clicked her teeth, shaking her head as she stood, setting the phone on the bed. "Don't be an ass." She muttered, grabbing her hoodie from the floor as she threw it over her head. "This is different."

"Tell me how it's different."

"It's JJ! That's how it's different." She exclaimed, hands tossing up before settling at her hips. "If he needs someone and I'm the person he calls, it's not for a dinner date and it's not fashion advice. it's because he genuinely needs someone."

She wasn't quite sure why Topper was so upset over this. they weren't dating, they were just close friends. Friends who spent the night together, watching comedy movies until they cried of laughter. Nothing more, she didn't doubt that for a second. Especially when she knew even when she did these things with JJ, there was always the happy, bubbly feeling within her that didn't feel the same with Topper.

And so the boy rolled his head over to her, fingers thumping against his chest. She couldn't tell what was going on in his head. He hadn't looked angry and there wasn't a frown on his face. It almost looked like he was expecting this, expecting her to defend JJ, tooth and nail. "Then go, y/n."

He looked like he had more to say, like he was biting his tongue, but if he had, he kept those thoughts to himself. "I will." She said, grabbing her phone and her keys, placing them in her back pocket to leave the thornton house.

She sat in the drivers side, pulling her phone from her pocket as the second she'd opened it, JJ's contact was still there. She still hadn't decided on what to send and so she finalized her messaging that she was on the way, sending that she was on her way and a heart. Which, ironically, was the same heart, once again, that they had sent weeks ago before for the last time in their last and final text conversation.

Driving the direct route that she'd known to the chateau had made her stomach feel unnerved. She’d recognized every turn, every stop sign, and the dirt road leading up to the plot. Finding that the front door was not properly closed, clearly slammed as she remembered that the screen was missing a screw causing it to need to be closed slow. The creaky door made someone in the house move as Y/n entered. "JJ?" She asked, making her way further into the home. "Jay, it's just me."

Another noise came from the bathroom as she moved around the corner, seeing JJ sat on the floor. The back of his head was against the wall and his eyes were closed though soft tear streaks shined across his cheeks from the way the light hit them. He opened his eyes finally, only side eyeing Y/n as she stood at the doorway. "i'm sorry."

"Don’t even think about apologizing." She said, pushing his feet back lightly to open the bottom cabinet, finding the medicinal items she needed. She sat in front of him, her knees digging into the hard wood floor below them. She could feel his eyes on her every move while she poured the alcohol onto a small hand towel. "This is gonna sting."

"I know." He replied, a sad smile coming on her face as she began to clean up the small cuts on his cheeks and the split lip. Her opposite hand held his chin lightly, dragging the towel lightly over his skin. She avoided all eye contact, he knew that for a fact as his eyes darted around her face.

She sat back on her ankles as she pointed at his shirt. He nodded, arms raising though wincing in the process as she rushed to his aid, helping him pull the dirty tee from over his head. The bruises that had become more prominent in the time of him waiting on the floor had caused for a heavy feeling to settle in her chest but she didn't say a thing, continuing to work in silence to help ease his pain just enough, leaving at one point to grab a cold beer from the fridge to place against his abdomen since there wasn't a single thing in the freezer other than the quarter filled ice tray.

"So...you and Topper." He said as she tilted his head to the side to clean the blood from the side of his jaw. She gave him a rather chagrined glare. "Sorry, just looking out."

"You don't have to look out anymore." She mumbled as he frowned. "And no... Topper and i— never." she cut herself off.

He went silent for a second, feeling the way her short nails scratched at the side of his cheek lightly. "You’re wrong." he said, suddenly, in Y/n's opinion as she gave him a confused look. "i always have to look out for you. like... like how you're doing right now."

"That’s different." She said for the second time that day.

"You wanna tell me how?"

She sighed, placing her hands in her lap as she sat back. "It just is, JJ. I’m sitting here cleaning your stupid... wounds like old times. This is nothing new."

"And because you and topper's friendship is new, it's different?" he asked. She placed her hands over her face, letting out a low groan against them. "It it's different because we're exes? Because you and Topper dating shouldn't be any of my concern now? News flash, you and Topper even remotely being friends was one of my concerns when we were friends."

She moved her hands from her face, staring at him. "No. what? No, what are you talking about? I didn't even come here to argue about topper, I don't get why it's even a topic right now." she said, her voice faltering near the end before she began leaning forward again to place a bandaid over his cheek.

"Because you know..." he trailed as she didn't even bother stopping. "You’re not... his."

"So what? I’m yours, is that what you're insinuating?" she asked, collecting the trash into her hand.

He didn't answer immediately, fiddling with his fingers in his lap instead. "Yeah." He mumbled. it was clear to him that she had not expected that answer. She stopped, pulling back again, so they could look directly at one another. "I didnt just call you because I could, I called you cause I needed you. I couldve called anyone but I called you because you know me best and i know you best. I know you well enough that you'd drop whatever you were doing for me. That's selfish, yes, but I needed you. Not want, need. A want would be that i want you back."

He was right because that's exactly what she did. And she knew him well enough to see the way he suck his shoulders just slightly in fear of what she'd say next. What she did next. Y/n's hands moved to rest on both of his cheeks, leaning forward to press a light kiss to his forehead before hugging him to her chest. "It didn't work out the first time." She told him in a lower tone.

"That was a trial run, i know what not to do." It was a joke, she knew. He had terrible timing. She heard the emphasis on the ‘I’, implying that he was the only one who made mistakes with the relationship. She let out a very minimal laugh at this, shaking her head at his antics.

She pulled back, running her thumb over the bandaid on his cheek. "We know what not to do." She correct him, placing a gentle kiss to his lips that he returned.

And within that moment, They both knew they were neither a want or need for one another. They were both.

[skellebonez]

Tumblr Messed Up Fill #5

Alright, I believe this is the FINAL accidentally posted fill! @winterpower98​ has such a great dynamic between Jin and Yin and the rest of the cast in the Cursed AU that I just love writing these two in any situation. I hope you enjoy this despite the wait!

When MK has been dragged out on an "emergency supply trip" with Jin and Yin he had almost expected he would need to step in to prevent them from doing anything illegal. They may technically be on their side now, but much like Macaque they weren't entirely removed from their villainous past.

What he had not expected was for the two of them announce that they not only intended to pay in cash, something most people didn't do not a days in favor of a single card or paying through their phone, but for them to attempt to give him a crash course in electronics every time he looked at a computer part with vague confusion.

On the bright side, he at least had didn't have to worry about them getting him banned from any of the local stores.

On the down side...

He looked at the massive pile of electronic bits the poor cashier was attempting to scan and bag for them in a timely manner. They had to, somehow, get all this stuff back to wherever they stored all of their equipment. MK was strong but the sheer amount of stuff would prove a problem simply by how much he would have to help carry. No wonder he'd been invited.

"Yin, toss me the wallet will ya?" Jin yelled once the cashier finally announced their total with a relieved sigh. A excessive amount that MK doubted could ever be paid for in cash alone.

Until Yin launched the wallet at Jin's head and it bounced off him and set a few bills flying in the process.

"OUCH, watch it! That's our profits you're throwing around!" Jin complained, grabbing a few bills that were still airborne with a sigh. "Just. I'll ask ya to hand it to me next time."

"Sorry..." Yin said, not really sounding all that sorry. The smirk and the fact he stuck out his tongue did not help.

Granted, Jin didn’t exactly seem genuinely upset at what happened either, judging by the smile on his face.

He probably wasn’t supposed to see it. That was probably why MK didn’t even know they had a wallet, they didn’t want anyone to see what they had in it.

But he was MK. The Monkie Kid. And his first instinct was to kneel down and pick up the wallet to give it back to Jin. The wallet that was sitting open with the inside facing up and bulging with bills and...

One of those folding picture things you would only see parents have of all their kids in comedy movies. It was folded up backwards, tucked into the wallet itself to keep it from unfolding and falling down, and only one picture was visible at the moment. One with a face he recognized very quickly. How could he not?

It was his face after all.

He recognized when it was taken too, pretty soon after the two had joined up with the group as Macaque’s... whatever they were to the reformed monkey demon. They’d been teasing him about if he had anyone he liked and Jin had just managed to make him laugh with some kind of joke.

He didn’t remember a picture being taken but one of them just have had a phone or camera to do so. He remembered their little conspiracy board from the first time they met, they were good at sneaking pictures of people... which, considering what he was holding in his hand right now, was kind of creepy when he thought about it for long enough.

He didn’t have the time to think about it for much longer though, as the wallet was yoinked out of his hand by an excited Jin, shouting a “thanks MK!” back at him when he pulled out the large bills to hand to the cashier.

He didn’t seem embarrassed or upset, in fact the only one who seemed to be out of the four of them was the cashier who had to check that they had enough chance before realizing they would only be getting a handful yuan back.

And then they were outside and making their way back to their workshop, presumably, MK with the bulk of the items but Jin and Yin taking their fair share of the electronic bits.

“Well that evened out nicer than expected,” Jin laughed, tucking their change into the wallet before snapping it closed with a victorious look on his face. “Just enough to grab us all one cheese tea each, if we all want some.”

“Could, uh... I ask you something first?” MK interrupted as they walked, the prospect of being treated to a drink for his work sounding pretty good actually.

“Yeah, go for it.”

“... why do you have a picture of me?” He asked wearily, just…still trying to take in the fact that apparently Jin and Yin shared a single wallet and they apparently just had pictures of everyone he knew in it.

Jin paused for a moment, looking at the wallet and then back to MK a few times before shrugging and shoving it back into his shirt, presumably the same kind of hidden pocket Yin had when he pulled it out. “I dunno? Guess I thought it was important or something, like if we needed to find you. Easy picture to show off if you go missing."

“Right…”

The trio didn’t even get to lapse into silence as they walked, the twins quickly finding some topic of conversation that completely flew over MK’s head regarding computing power and ram drives.

The cheese tea was good though.

~

Jin looked between his younger twin and the wallet. Though he hadn’t really thought about it all that much when MK had asked, something about his question was starting to bother the elder Gold Demon.

It was a simple thing. Small. Kinda bulky despite the size due to the sheer amount of unnecessary things inside it. Receipts for the tech they had actually bothered to pay for, they felt bad stealing from that store in the past when they learned that it was in danger of being shut down due to lost profits, coupons that would eventually be used at the last second… pictures.

So many pictures.

And yet none of them were of either twin. At least none of them alone. There's was a single picture of the two of them together, just one, after building their first successful Calabash prototype. They thought that would be picture enough whenever the off chance they were separated for a... while...

“Oh…”

"What, Jin?" Yin asked, looking up from his soldering work at the loud exclamation.

"I'm starting to think we might be a little dense," Jin replied, opening up the wallet and letting the folded pictures fall out in a line. “Remember how MK asked why we had a picture of him?”

One picture was of MK, the one the young man had seen since it was the one sitting in the only visible stop of the holder when it was folded at the moment. One of Mei working on her bike. One of Macaque they had snuck while he slept. A slightly blurry one of Sun Wukong alone they barely managed to snatch in secret.

Mei and Yin playing some sort of game together, Jin leaning on Red Son and teasing him while MK watched, a proper one of Macaque and MK and Mei together. MK and Wukong, Mei and Wukong, Mei and Macaque, a trio of training pictures. Red Son flaming up at the camera in anger.

A lone one of Tang and Pigsy in the noodle shop that Jin could not explain the reason for taking, as well as one of Sandy on his boat with his cat.

And a few more of Mei and MK and Red and Macaque with either if them in particular for good measure.

Yin looked up and down at the line of photos and then to his brother, brow raised in confusion before his eyes widened in shock and dismay as he came to the same conclusion.

“Oh bloody hell... we’ve started to CARE.”

The twins looked at each other in resignation.

Nothing they could do about it now.

[bitchassbucky]

.raw

Word count: 1.3k

Warning/s: this chapter is pretty tame ngl. very toxic relationship dynamics, bit spicy, references to sex, dark!bucky x dark! reader, obsessive/manipulative tendencies, cyber and irl stalking (usage of tracking device), food and eating were mentioned several times

A/N: thank you @unsaltedalmonds for the idea of IT!Bucky wearing this shirt lmfao

follow the CTRL series:

i - .exe

ii - .avi

iii - .raw

iv - .png

v - .zip

CTRL playlist CTRL moodboard

The lunch rush is starting to pick up when you came into the restaurant Bucky had told you. The chitter-chatter of the patrons along with the live acoustic band drones on as you sit by the bar waiting for him.

It’s nice. The mood is casual and the atmosphere is light. Maybe if the al-fresco dining area isn’t too crowded, you’d pick a sunny spot.

Catching your reflection on a glassy surface, you fix your appearance, hoping that it isn’t too much or too little.

“You look great, don’t worry.” A voice behind you perks up and you turn—Bucky.

A genuine smile finds itself on your lips, “thanks, Bucky. How long have you been here?” You let your eyes gaze upon his form. Black bomber jacket, zipped up all the way, tight skinny jeans, and scruffy boots. He swapped his dress shirt with something casual and it’s somehow driving you nuts already.

He gestures backward to a free table a few feet away, “long enough to get a seat for us.”

Bucky then sees your eyes flick outside by the restaurant’s patio, “unless you wanna go al-fresco?”

“Oh my gosh,” you almost even give yourself an eye roll for that, “no—no, it’s okay. We can stay here.”

“C’mon, it’s okay. I’m sure someone would be willing to switch with us.”

Before you could protest further, Bucky already flagged down the hostess. Giving his best smile and a minuscule head tilt, he speaks, “Do you think we could get a seat out there? I think fresh air would do us good.”

Like any other woman—hell, even men—wouldn’t be able to resist Bucky and his charm, “yeah! Of course, anything for you and your girlfriend.” The hostess looks at you and beams, prompting you to smile back.

Do you even try to dismiss that claim when you caught how Bucky reacted?

—

Peals of laughter slip past your lips as Bucky unzips his jacket, revealing a tasteful shirt underneath, “Bucky, oh my god!”

He throws an apologetic look around as you keep laughing, your hands hitting the table repeatedly.

“Can you keep it down?” Even he was chuckling a bunch, “in my defense, I need to do my laundry.”

You calmed yourself down only to laugh again, happy tears springing to the sides of your eyes.

Bucky wants to relive this is forever. Making you laugh and cry from laughing too much.

Is this what love feels like?

Your presence to him is like ecstasy.

He never wants to leave your light.

Everything about you is addicting.

And the way you didn’t even try to dismiss when the hostess called you his girlfriend—you want him as much as he wants you.

—

Lunch turned into afternoon snacks and snacks turned to dinner.

You and Bucky almost went and turned every food place upside down, the waistbands of your pants getting snug as the sun sets by the avenue.

“I’m so full, oh my god.” You jokingly rubbed your tummy, sipping boba as you walked side by side.

“Says the person drinking boba tea?” Bucky smirks, his hair fashioned into a low bun, showing off his side profile, much to the delight of people passing by.

He’s a walking Greek statue and you’re with him.

Bucky makes you feel loved. Enough. Seen. Validated.

Is this what love feels like?

You in his presence feel like a warm hug.

Bucky changed you forever.

A rather rushing pedestrian knocked shoulders with Bucky, causing him to stumble back and you to hold him steady, “you good?”

He seemed pissed, the crease between his eyebrows prominent, “yeah. Sorry, I’m okay.”

And then there it was: the tug of something unknown yet strangely familiar. The sound of the traffic ceases as you and Bucky both gaze upon each other’s eyes, only drifting to the other’s lips.

The moment has never been this perfect. Fuck all your romantic comedies starring Kate Hudson, this is your story now.

“Can I kiss you?” Bucky asks tenderly. His hand brushing your hair away from your face.

“Yes.”

Without a moment’s notice, your lips met.

—

Hand in hand, you walked the streets feeling like you’re on the clouds. Sweet smiles, bashful giggles. Normally, you would protest against stealing kisses but not when it’s him.

“This is my place,” Bucky says, pointing towards a mid-rise apartment complex. The neighborhood wasn’t new to you; you often find yourself walking these very streets early in the mornings.

You haven’t had the moment to appreciate his art pieces when Bucky suddenly pinned you against the door, shutting it roughly as soon as you stepped into his apartment threshold.

His lips finding yours, nibbling. The kiss was anything but sweet—all teeth and tongues.

“You have no idea how much I’ve waited to do that.”

“Like a month?” You quipped, tugging the collar of his tee. Your arms draping past his shoulders as his hands rest on your hips.

“Yeah, sure, let’s say a month.”

Having you in his studio apartment was meant to be. You in his space was written in the stars. He can almost see you waking up on his bed with him cooking you breakfast. Making you a cup of coffee now that he knows how you like it: with cream and two sugars.

You took a seat on his large office chair and a vision of you riding him suddenly floods his brain. Hey, now’s not the time.

Him shaking his head into resetting sent the wrong message, “oh. I can’t sit there, or…?” You pull yourself up, metaphorically hitting yourself in the head for making such a presumption.

Maybe he’s that kind of person who doesn’t like someone all up in their space. Then why would he take you here?

“No, no, it’s fine. I just—don’t you think it’s a bit late?” Bucky forces a smile, rubbing his palm across his nape. The warm feeling was suddenly pulled out of him. Now he’s just standing in his house with an acquaintance.

You suddenly felt small, minuscule, and very, very stupid. “Oh. Yeah, uh, I should probably get going.”

“What about a drink?” Bucky’s internally panicking now, he didn’t mean to insinuate the intent of leaving.

You shook your head, straightening your posture as you gathered your thoughts. “I can call a ride, it’s no worries. Got tons of stuff to do anyway.”

“I’m sorry.” Is all Bucky said. He wasn’t really sure why he’s apologizing or what it is for.

—

The door clicked closed and Bucky bolts to his workspace, closing down the applications that will implicate him.

He closes all applications but one, a tracking dot. He installed one on your work phone just in case you needed his help and can’t reach out. You’d never know who’s a sick fuck in these days.

Bucky shoots you a text but instead, he got a phone call.

Hey.

Hey.

The sound of the road was muffled on your end, but nonetheless, the car was moving in the right direction.

I’m so sorry for earlier. I didn’t mean to...intrude. I just—I really like you, Bucky. I’m sorry I was too forward.

I… Bucky tries to play with time as he chooses his next words carefully, I like you too but I think we’re going too fast.

Your end was quiet, save from the ambient noises.

I guess so. Let’s keep things professional and friendly first, okay?

Okay.

I gotta go, I’m at my place.

The line went dead without as much as a goodbye.

Liar. Why would you lie to him? You have at least fifteen minutes more to go.

Why would you lie to him? Didn't you just say that you liked him? The way you said it was so casual—like it didn’t bother you that you were lying to him. Raised like a liar, die like a thief.

[owletstarlet]

the grand deeds of great men, the smallest of gestures

"My hero."

An (extremely late) request of sorts from @taizi for some solid nishi content, involving Tanuma putting those childhood karate lessons to good use. Established tanunatsu.

Ao3 link in the notes. 

“Your boyfriend,” Satoru announces without preamble, dragging Tanuma by their joined hands through the hotel room door, “is a badass.”

Natsume looks up sharply from where he and Atsushi are huddled over a pile of rumpled travel pamphlets on the bed. But it’s Taki who’s on her feet first, closing the distance to the door with a pinched look and taking the shopping bag out of Tanuma’s hand.

Satoru’s grinning. Tanuma is very much not.

But they’re both shaking.

Satoru doesn’t let go of Tanuma’s hand until Natsume’s there to take it. Atsushi’s there to grab Satoru by the shoulders, and the five of them shuffle back as one towards the beds.

Natsume doesn’t press for the explanation until they’re all seated, he and Taki pressed up against either side of Tanuma, their knees bumping up against Atsushi’s and Satoru’s in the narrow space between the two beds. The muttered question is probably more directed at Satoru than at Tanuma, because Tanuma’s gray-faced in the lamplight, gaze a little too wide, breaths coming a little too fast. Both Natsume’s hands are wrapped around Tanuma’s slack one, and on his other side Taki’s hands are gentle where they rub his back, but her keen eyes keep darting over to Satoru, expression tight with all the same concern. Satoru, for his part, is practically vibrating where he sits tucked against Atsushi’s side, from nerves or exhilaration or both, Atsushi can’t quite tell.

“He flipped a guy!” Satoru declares, with a wide one-handed swoop of a gesture at Tanuma, sounding positively giddy about it.

Well. Whatever Atsushi was expecting to hear, it wasn’t that.

“What,” Natsume says, blankly, at the same time that Taki says, “…wait.”

And then they’re all looking at Tanuma. Who very much looks like he’d rather not be looked at.

“It was the actual best thing I have ever seen,” Satoru says, nudging Tanuma’s knee with his own, and there’s something fierce and warm in his eyes. “And he thinks he’s gonna go to jail or something for it, which he’s not, because the guy deserved it, so that would be dumb.”

“What happened?” Atsushi blurts, now well and truly alarmed.

And he tells them.

They’re in Osaka for a long weekend, because Natori had invited them all along for some premiere of a new period piece that Satoru had been gushing about for months. Natsume’s not exactly ecstatic about attending the event itself, but he’s clearly happy that Satoru’s happy—Atsushi gathers that that’s whole point of this—and even if Natori himself is all booked up with press events for the majority of the weekend, it’s a chance for them all to explore the unfamiliar city together.

Not thirty minutes ago, Satoru and Tanuma had volunteered to make a combini run for snacks, only about two blocks from the hotel. But once they’d finished and were through the door, bags in hand, Tanuma had realized he’d forgotten to get the ice cream Taki had asked for. He’d gone back in to get it, while Satoru stayed out front to sip at the cocoa he’d bought. They hadn’t really paid any mind to the group milling about out front. Salarymen, by the looks of them, three or four younger guys in tidy suits with raucous voices and beers in hand. Satoru had been making his way to the bench near the entrance to wait, not quite looking where he was going, and he’d bumped into one of them, causing some of his beer to slosh over the lip of the can and onto the guy’s blazer sleeve. From his place in line Tanuma had heard it, the sharp “Oy!” and the rumbles of displeasure from man’s friends. Tanuma’s not sure what became of the ice cream he’d been holding—maybe he dropped it, maybe he shoved it into the hands of the customer beside him—but the next thing he knew he was out the door, wedging himself firmly between Satoru and the man who now had him by the arm.

“And then he just…bam!” Satoru mimes the motion, as though he’s grabbing something heavy with both hands from behind, and twisting it downwards in front of him. “Like. Grabbed him. And just. Flipped him! Guy went down beer and all, and he looked super confused about being on the ground all of a sudden. And it was amazing, and I had no idea he took karate before.”

And with that, three sets of startled eyes all land squarely on Tanuma. Natsume taps his knee, like he’s trying to break him away from whatever’s got its grip on him behind his own glassy gaze.

“Karate?” Taki looks, at first, gobsmacked by this piece of information. But it morphs into something like slow-breaking delight across her features.

Tanuma’s nod is a single, tight bob of the head. “Just, um.” It’s the first time he’s spoken since walking through the door, and his voice is a ghost of a thing, like it might get swallowed up by the stale air of the room. “Until I was twelve. On and off. I don’t remember much.”

“You remembered plenty,” Satoru tells him, tone banking no argument, before clasping his hands together dramatically. “My hero.” His grin is so wide and irresistibly cheesy that Tanuma looks up, just for a moment, with the barest twitch of his lips before his gaze drops back down towards the stretch of flowery pink carpet beneath their toes. Natsume shoots Satoru a grateful look, even as Atsushi finds himself doing the same to Tanuma. Somewhere, during the course of the story, he’d found himself squashed up impossibly close against Satoru, arm tucked firmly around his shoulders. He seems genuinely excited, not distressed, but against Atsushi’s side he still feels wound up tight as a coiled spring. It’s definitely not lost on Natsume, either, judging by the glance he gives Atsushi. Atsushi nudges Natsume’s foot—he’s okay, I got him—and Natsume nods, once, though his gaze lingers a moment longer on Satoru’s flushed, still-beaming face.

“So you’re afraid someone saw?” Atsushi asks, while Taki fishes out a tea bottle from the shopping bag, uncaps it and presses it into Tanuma’s hand.

Tanuma doesn’t answer, but that touch of a grin from before has twisted itself into something distinctly nauseated.

“If anyone did see, they’d know the dude was fine.” Satoru shrugs. “Also that he deserved it, remember. We ran, anyways.”

Natsume blinks. “You ran here?”

And Atsushi can’t help but see the comedy in that being what Natsume seizes on, considering the truly impressive amount of times Atsushi’s seen him tearing through town apropos of nothing like he’s got a swarm of invisible hornets on his tail.

“Yup,” Satoru says, brightly, tapping Tanuma’s knee. “Felt like an action movie.” A pause, before he tacks on, not unkindly, “Y’know, if you’re not gonna drink that tea, then I will.”

Tanuma blinks down at the tea bottle, which had tilted enough in his hand to nearly spill onto the scratchy comforter as though forgotten about. He manages a couple measured sips before letting Taki take it back and cap it.

Natsume squeezes Tanuma’s fingers in his own, looking unsettled. Taki looks thoughtful, idly tapping the bottle in her hands.

“Were you thinking they had a security camera out front or something?” she asks.

Tanuma says nothing.

Taki leans into his side. “You know, even if anyone watched the footage, it’s like Nishimura said. All they’d see is that man getting exactly what was coming to him,” she says, fervently.

“And you being cool as hell,” Satoru adds. “Seriously, they teach twelve-year-olds how to do that?”

The way his shoulders loosen, just a fraction, feels like a win. “I don’t…actually know?” he starts, squinting like he’s trying to recall. “I was in this class for high-schoolers at the time, because there were nothing else available in the town I lived in.” A shrug, a sheepish glance up and away. “Usually I was just partnered up with my teacher.”

“That actually sounds kind of brutal, though,” Atsushi says, curious now. “Did the teacher demonstrate take-downs and stuff on you?”

“She did, but. Really slowly,” Tanuma replies, and it’s as though the warmth of Natsume’s and Taki’s shoulders pressed up against his has started, though incrementally, to seep into his voice, his eyes. “And I never really got the hang of doing any of it back to her. I’m surprised that worked, earlier.”

Precisely none of this explanation seems to have made Satoru look any less starstruck. Atsushi has to hold back his snort. “You should totally pick it up again,” Satoru’s saying now, around a mouth full of the lemon ice pop Natsume had fished out of the shopping bag for him. “What color belt did you get up to?”

“Um.”

Just that half-second’s hesitation is long enough to put a loaded look into Natsume’s eyes, for him to slot their fingers together properly and squeeze.

Tanuma lets out a breath, and there’s something years-old and lonely clinging to the edges of his smile. Atsushi doubts he’s aware of it. “None.” He shrugs. “I didn’t pass the one exam I took. I got pneumonia that year and had to quit after that, so.”

He looks faintly embarrassed, now, and Satoru opens his mouth as though ready to nip that right in the bud, but Taki beats him to it.

“Tanuma,” she says, solemnly, turning around to face him. “You have got to teach me how you did that.”

***

By the time the polite-yet-firm call arrives from the front desk, indicating a noise complaint from their neighbors in the next room and forcing them all to call it a night, things are better.

By then, Tanuma had been goaded into demonstrating some unwieldy modified version the maneuver behind his earlier takedown, executed on a poor unsuspecting hotel pillow because the entire room had immediately nixed Satoru’s offer to be the human test dummy.

Now, Satoru and Taki are a boneless, lightly snoring tangle of limbs on the far bed, one of Satoru’s arms thrown over Natsume’s whale shark plushie. (A surprise gift from all of them, Taki’s idea, after they’d caught him eyeing it more than once in the aquarium gift shop yesterday. If he’d walked out of the aquarium clutching it to his chest just like he might’ve done with his fat cat, currently hundreds of kilometers away, none of them said a word about it.)

Natsume himself is dozing in the other bed, but he lies facing Satoru—and Satoru’s fine, he’s unharmed and happy and completely safe, he is. But for some reason the longer the night’s worn on, Atsushi’s had to remind himself of these facts more, not less. He knows the dark cast to Satoru’s slack wrist is the lamplight-shadow of his sweatshirt sleeve, knows because he checked.

Still.

Tanuma’s in the bath, now. And he seems, well. Better than he was, certainly. But Atsushi had seen the taut-lipped glances he’d stolen at Satoru, and he looks about the same way Atsushi feels. At least the unwelcome scenarios and possibilities unspooling in his own mind have got to be more vague than whatever Tanuma’s imagination was serving up. Tanuma had seen it. Had stopped it.

Let Satoru wave it off, insist ‘til he’s blue in the face that it was fine, all fine, that he hadn’t been in any real danger. If it would put his friends at ease, he’d have said the same with a smile on his face even if he’d just been robbed at knifepoint.

Atsushi really needs to stop thinking about this.

He’d heard Natsume earlier, voice whisper-gentle through the bathroom door after he’d led Tanuma in by the hand behind him. Satoru and Taki had drifted off by then. Atsushi couldn’t make out the words, and heard nothing at all from Tanuma, aside from a few isolated, stuttering breaths. Tanuma had re-emerged dazed, red-eyed, but calmer than Atsushi had seen him all evening.

When the door opens now, Tanuma steps out in a halo of steam, wet-haired and barefoot in an old t-shirt. Atsushi’s on his feet and halfway across the room before he’s even really aware of it, the change of clothes for his own bath forgotten at the foot of the bed.

Tanuma goes still, when Atsushi pulls him close. Atsushi almost lets go, but then he feels the tentative hands come up to rest on his back.

“Thank you,” Atsushi mutters into his shoulder.

“I—“

“No. Listen.” Atsushi pulls back, hands shifting to rest on his upper arms. And god but Tanuma looks exhausted. “You kept him safe,” Atsushi says. “And don’t try to tell me you didn’t, because you did. Thank you.”

Tanuma opens his mouth, closes it again, swallows. He says nothing for a long moment, but he doesn’t look away. Finally, “…sorry for freaking out.” He smiles as he says it, but his voice snags on the words. He swallows again.

“Hey.” Atsushi waits until Tanuma’s now-dropped gaze returns to him. “You don’t ever have to be sorry for that, okay? Not with us.”

A sound like an inhale, somehow sharp and shaky all at once, and then it’s Tanuma that’s pulling them together again. A steadying breath, in-out-in that ruffles Atsushi’s hair. Stillness.

“Okay,” he whispers.

***

If he does go to jail, it's Natori who'll have to bail him out :)

Sensei didn't come along because I like to think Hiiragi, Sasago and Urihime have been taking turns watching over Natsume, which is more than sufficient, except for when it's *not* Natsume himself who's getting into trouble--

Fun fact, according to the most current iteration of canon, Tanuma's taken judo in the past as well as karate, but the bulk of this was written before that chapter came out.

All credit to taizi for the nice hug idea--

[t-o-m-hollands]

Summary: It’s the late summer of 2004. You are set to travel across the country for university and your best friend Tom is staying behind. You spend your last night together before you leave. 

Themes: Friends to lovers, love confessions, first love. 

Warnings: Drinking beer. One mention of smoking weed. Mentions of parents fighting and also implied neglectful parents. Smut (+18), two spanks?? otherwise pretty tame.  

Word count: 3,4 k

Notes: I don’t know, this might be a bit different? Or it might just feel that way to me. It’s very reminiscent of teenage years and first love and nostalgia. Please let me know your thoughts, I’m genuinely not sure what to think about this one. 

Massive thank you to @augustholland​ who read through it and very kindly reassured me that it wasn’t bad 💖

Also, this fic was inspired by the Phoebe Bridgers song. I’ve never actually listened to it but it keeps showing up in my recommendation and i like the title of it so this is what i imagine that song is about. Mostly I listened to Harry Styles - Fine Line while writing this.

You finish up early that afternoon. Wayne, your old boss, tries not to cry as he hugs you goodbye. He tells you to take care in a gravelly voice close to breaking, as he avoids looking at you. It’s your last shift in the greasy bar, where for the last two years you’ve been selling cheap beer and watered down whiskey to weary old men and rowdy students who come in for a game of pool. It hasn’t paid much, just a few pounds an hour; just enough so that on each thursday you and Tom have enough money for movie tickets at the local cinema. It’s your tradition. Like a religious man goes to church each sunday; you spend your thursday nights with Tom’s arm slung around your shoulders, watching whatever new film they have on, sharing a bowl of popcorn between you. Afterwards you'll have burgers at the fast food joint across the street; talking about the movie long into the night, sharing a bag of fries. 

When you were younger and hadn’t been able to afford to pay Tom had sneaked you both into the cinema anyway.  Your hand in his, he had led the way into the movie theatre when no one was looking. Sitting in the back row he’d sneak you Fruit Polos to snack on, his arm slung around your shoulders, as you watched movies you were way too young for.

Last week was your final movie screening; some light-hearted American comedy, and the entire way through it you fought the lump in your throat, forcing yourself not to cry. Tom hadn’t laughed either; had just held you closer than usual. 

Tomorrow you are set to leave the small seaside town behind you, the place where you have spent most of your life, for a drive all across the country; to start university in a city you’ve only visited once before. You’re not sure when you’ll return.

Thus lately everything has been laced with goodbyes; childhood having reached its end.

Just two days ago there had been the last bonfire where you had watched the Holland boys fight each other while playing football as his parents looked on and laughed, grilling sausages over the open fire. 

It was on the same rocky beach where you have spent many summer days; grilling food on the open fire and throwing back cheap beer with your friends from school. You have scraped your knees on these rocks, burned your skin from both the bonfire and the sun there; have had your heart broken over and over and over again during your school years as you watched Tom kiss whatever girl he was dating at the time by the fire during summer night parties.

Maybe you had broken his heart a few times as well. 

As the afternoon light turns everything golden you drive through the main street in the small town where  everyone knows everybody, and has done for generations. You watch the people as you drive them by. You know everyone’s name, know each crack in the pavement; can find your way home in the dark. 

God knows how many shoes you’ve worn out over the years walking down these streets. 

The radio plays a blink-182 song you know by heart as you follow the road out of the city, through the woods and up to the coast. At the end of a muddy track, on the border to the forest, stands a shabby old caravan. It faces the beach and above the door christmas lights are lit up all year round. 

The Holland family legend says that Tom’s great uncle had won the small patch of land in a bet. Unable to build a large house he had bought a caravan and put it on the lot. The old man had lived in the Shed for the rest of his lifetime, before passing it on to Tom; the youngster of the family, his younger brothers having yet to be born. When he had turned seventeen he moved out of his parents larger, more comfortable house, and into the Shed. His mother had agreed on it on the condition he took on the apprenticeship to become a carpenter that he had been offered. 

You remember when he had told you of his decided future, one late evening as you sat on the driftwood by the beach, smoking weed and watching the sun set over the horizon. It had felt right somehow, you had been able to  imagine him working with his hands, skillfully forming and bending wood to his will; his long and slender fingers knowing just how to fix things. Tom has always been good at mending things. It had been three years now and he was a full time employee at the JBT Carpentry Services. He says it doesn’t pay much, but he’s happy; and that's all that matters.

As you park the car outside the Shed Tom comes out. Standing under the colorful christmas lights he grins widely as he sees you, his eyes crinkling at the sides. The most genuine smile you know. He’s tanned from a summer spent on the beach, his hair a wavy mess; as if he’d just woken up from sleep. It’s a warm august day and the world seems sunbleached somehow; but in the afternoon light Tom looks golden. 

You are painfully aware that it is the last time you’ll see him like this for many months to come.

Walking up to him and he gives you a bear-hug; his warm, hard body pressed against yours, holding onto you tightly. With your face in the crook of his neck you breathe him in and discover that a faint trace of bonfire smoke still lingers on his skin. It all feels achingly familiar and safe. So heartrendingly unlike the uncertain life at university that lies in front of you.

Tom is your safe place.

Your parents had always fought like cat and dog and sometimes when you were younger and  they’d argue you’d climb through your window and walk all the way over to the Holland household. You were always welcomed there and his parents didn’t ask any questions, no matter how late the hour; instead they fed you, treating you like a member of the family around the dining table with gentle teasing and reminders of homework that needed to be done, letting you sleep over when needed. No questions asked. 

With the years the fighting at home got worse. When Tom fixed himself a beat-up old Land Rover and moved out to the Shed you’d call him from the payphone down the road. He’d always answer, telling you to pack up; and that he was on his way. He’d pick you up by the end of the street, a duffle bag with schoolbooks and a change of clothes slung over your shoulder. He’d take you back to his place to sleep. His caravan only had one bed, so you used to curl up next to each other in bed. On the nights when you were crying he’d hold you, and in the morning he’d make you breakfast before you both went off to school. 

Your parents never noticed your temporary absence. 

Tom lets go of the hug, but with an arm around your waist he leads you into his home. There’s a lingering scent of fried food in the air and the boombox is playing the 3 Doors down CD he’s been obsessed with since you bought it for his birthday. You tread the cherry wood veneered flooring with your battered tennis shoes, feeling more at home here than anywhere else on earth.

 “Fancy a beer?” Tom asks, leading the way to the kitchen area. “Warn you though, it's warm. Just got back from the store so they haven’t had time to cool”.

Everything is warm today, and the caravan is no exception. The ancient AC had given in years ago and Tom could never afford having it fixed. You heave yourself up on the countertop, replying a simple “sure” to his question. 

He opens a Stella and hands it to you. He isn’t wrong, the beer is tepid. Yet you drown half the bottle in one big swig; happy just to have something to do with your hands when he’s standing so close to you. Gulping down on the liquid and you cannot help but notice Tom’s eyes on your throat as you swallow. He opens a bottle for himself and takes a swig. 

You smile at the ancient gray t-shirt he’s wearing. At one point there had been a band logo on it, but it has long since been washed out. He notices you smiling at him and as if it's infectious a smile broadens on his face as well. “What?” he asks, leaning against the small counter across from you.

“Nothing” you say, smiling wider. “Just wondered how many times I’ve seen you in that shirt. I mean, it has to be near a couple of thousand times by now”.

“You don't exactly love buying new clothes either” he says, a teasing smile playing at his lips as he looks at your washed out jeans shorts. “I know for a fact that those aren’t new, darling”. His eyes linger on your legs for a moment too long before he looks away, taking a swig from his beer. 

“So, when are you leaving?” He asks, and you can tell that he’s trying to sound relaxed, but leaned against the countertop, his arms crossed in front of him, head bowed; holding onto the bottle of Stella he’s nursing with a tight grip. He looks tense and on edge. 

“Tomorrow morning”

He takes a swig from his beer. There’s nothing more to say, not really. Everything that happens now is just aftermath; you might as well have already left. 

“I’m nervous” you admit, biting your lip, trying hard not to et out the tears you’ve been holding in for days now; embarrassed that your voice trembles on the last word. 

His head snaps up to look at you. Pushing off the counter he takes a step forward, placing himself in between your legs. 

“Hey” he says, with a voice a low and gentle as a whisper, his hand cupping your cheek. You look up at him; long dark eyelashes framing his beautiful brown eyes, his thin lips slightly parted and across his nose freckles are spread out, the result from a summer spent in the sun. His calloused hand strokes your cheek. “You’re going to take them by storm, Pebbles”.

You smile, despite your fluttering heart. He hasn’t called you Pebbles for a long time. It had been his nickname for you when you first became friends, the reason behind it long forgotten. He was the only one to ever call you it, and the name had lingered long into your late teenage years. 

“You took me by storm,” he admits. 

You blink up at him through wet eyelashes. Your family had moved to the town when you were ten years old. This was the kind of small town that strangers seldom came to and inhabitants rarely left; and so the new addition to the small local school had everyone talking. You had felt like an astronaut shuffled into space on your first day, trying to find gravity in the unfamiliar school corridors. You had felt the pull of gravity in form of the brown-eyed boy sitting next to you in english class. He had given you a warm smile as you sat down next to him. He had made you his friend, listened to you and confided in you; had made you laugh until your stomach ached. You found further gravity in his home; surrounded by his family and their endless squabbles and laughter, sitting next to Tom at the dinner table.

It hadn’t taken long before you and Tom were an inseparable item; your names always linked to one another in the mouths of others. 

“You’ve worked so hard for this scholarship” he says, and the corners of his mouth tugs up into a smile, “I mean, I’m pretty certain you’re the only reason I even finished school”.

You had helped him write most of his essays at school. He’d struggled with reading a lot and found the assigned novels difficult. There were evenings where you’d spend hours laying on the bed; twisting the phone cord between your fingers, as you read the books out loud for him. 

Sometimes, in order to be left alone from his parents and younger brothers, he’d walk down to the end of the street and to the payphone there, where he’d spend all his pennies listening to you reading. You had talked and talked until your voice got hoarse; until he ran out of pennies. Yet when he hung up you always felt a tug of longing in your chest, knowing you wouldn’t be able to see him until the next day in school. 

“Well,  I heard you’re doing pretty good as a carpenter” you say, smiling up at him. “I always knew you’d be good with your hands”. 

As soon as you’ve said it you can feel your face heat up. You had heard the rumours at school; Tom Holland is a stellar fuck. Once, while you were in the bathroom stall, you had heard a gang of girls discuss it as they reapplied their lipgloss in the mirror. One of them told the story of her one night stand with Tom, how he had made her come several times over with his hands and mouth; how he’d fucked her so long and so good. You had stood in the stall, your heart in your throat; feeling sick to your stomach, but unable to stop listening.

There were girls that reached out to you in school, knowing you were Tom’s closest friend, and asked you in hushed but awed voices if it was true. If he really that good in bed.

He looks you dead in the eye, an unusual seriousness to his warm eyes. He knows what you’re thinking, knows what thoughts have made your cheeks flush with colour. Letting go of your cheek he places his arms on either side of you on the counter; caging you in. 

“There’s never been anyone but you, Pebbles. Not really.” His tone is heavy with meaning and you feel light-headed; both oddly detached from your own body and painfully aware of the closeness of his. Your heart is beating hard in your chest. 

This is a line you’ve never crossed before. 

“I know I’m ruining everything by saying this, but you’re leaving tomorrow and I’ve been walking around with this secret lodged in my chest like a bullet since i was ten years old; I love you, Pebbles. I’ve always have”.

You should speak. You should tell him that you’ve known for a long time how he’s felt. That it’s been evident in the way his eyes keep lingering on your legs, in the way his arm usually finds its way to rest around your waist. In the way he’s always been there for you. You should tell him that you understand why he hasn’t been able to voice his feelings for you; because you haven’t done it either. Too scared of losing him. But your breath has caught in your throat and all you can focus on is those caramel eyes on you, and how hard your heart is beating in your chest.

“I love you too” you say, voice hardly louder than a whisper. You swear there was music coming from the boom box but all you can hear is the blood rushing through your body. 

He kisses you.

He takes your mouth slowly, kissing you thoroughly until you can’t think straight; can’t remember any other kiss than his. Then his lips move over yours with more fervour; more urgency, one hand around your throat and the other tangled in your hair. He kisses you until you're both moaning and gasping for more. 

This is it. You’ve crossed the invisible line between friends and lovers; and there is no return, no going back from here. When you leave tomorrow you will leave knowing what his mouth feels like pressed against your.

You dig your hands into his soft hair, runs them both up his chest, realising that this is what your hands were made for. He lifts you off the counter and you wrap your legs around his waist. He moves you both across the caravan and into the bedroom. It’s baking hot in there and you can already feel sweat forming at the low end of your back. The room, just big enough for a bed to fit, is lit up with sunlight. His bed is a mess of rumpled white sheets and the walls are the same cherry wood colour as the rest of the caravan. 

You kiss and lick his jaw, his neck, his throat; anywhere you can reach you stroke him. You tug at his hair, kiss his soft lips, and nib at his ear. It’s like the gates have been opened, because even though his arm has always been a comforting presence around your waist; and even though you’ve slept in the same bed more times than you can count, his body curled up next to yours, forming himself like a question mark around your body; he’s never been yours to touch before. Not like this.

His breathing is accelerated, his chest rising and falling in rapid speed, and so is yours. There’s a heat to his eyes that tells you he’s just as turned on as you are. You pull at his shirt before he’s even laid you down on the bed; impatiently craving all his warm, suntanned skin pressed against yours. It’s an almost feverish frenzy, and in the back of your mind you know that you should take this slow. You don’t want this to end too soon, because this might be all you get. But the sun hasn’t even set yet and through the old white-washed curtains you helped put up and light shines through, bathing you both sunshine. 

Outside the waves keep crashing against the shore and in the kitchen his boombox keeps playing songs you’ve heard a million times before. It is like it always has been at Tom’s, except that for laying on his sofa and talking he’s removing your clothes; kissing his way down your body. Wet, opened mouth kisses that leave a trail of heat in its wake that have you bucking your hips up for more. His hands are everywhere, exploring your legs. He’s looking at your skin with wide-eyes adoration. With his body in between your wide spread legs he kisses the soft inside of your thighs. 

“So soft” he groans against your skin, “and so sweet”.

You feel overheated and breathless; aching all over from wanting him. Perched up on your elbows you observe him; his dark hair brushing against the low of your stomach as he kisses the tender skin of your hip bone. He bares his teeth and bites the sensitive flesh. 

His hand cups your cunt. You’re wet and aching and as you presses his thumb to your clit, gently but steadily moving up and down, you feel like you’re going to combust. His strokes are soft at first, before speeding up, making you moan wantonly, spreading your legs wider for him.

“Glad you like that,” he says, a satisfied smile spreading on his face. “Do my fingers feel good on you, darling?”

All you can do is moan in response, arching and moving your hips up to meet his hand. His movements are fast and slippery and it doesn’t take long until your close, so close, so close; on the brink of tipping over and then - 

A sharp slap on your pussy, leaving a stinging bite, and it is like the world splits into two. 

“God” you moan, voice hoarse. You’re shuddering all over; moanes falling freely from your lips. 

He looks up at you from his position in between your legs, his dark eyes sparkling. He kisses the soft inside of your thighs again. “You have any idea how long I’ve wanted to kiss you here?” he asks. “I bet you do, torturing me for fun in those short jeans shorts”. He spanks your pussy again and you couldn’t have stopped the moan falling from your lips even if you tried. “How long I’ve wanted to taste you here?”. And he places a hot kiss on your wet slit. You can feel his soft hair pressed against your thighs; his warm breath against your skin.

His lips part and he covers you with his mouth, his tongue moving over your opening; touching you, stroking you, tasting you. A guttural moan leaves him. He looks up at you through tassels of hair, caramel eyes glued to your face.

You fall back against the mattress, “more” you demand, in a voice that sounds a lot like begging. “Please, more”.

It is as if he’s been unleashed. You have never felt anything like it, but he laps you up, tastes you; his fingers moving inside you; pressing against the place that has you seeing stars. You can’t even look at him now, you’re eyes shut; too overwhelmed by the stimulation. Both aching for more but not sure if your body can handle that kind of pleasure. Your thighs are shaking, and something in your stomach grows tighter and tighter by each flick of his tongue against your clit.

“I’m coming” you cry out breathlessly “fuck I’m coming”

And you do. Hard. He keeps kissing and touching you through it; both grounding you and dragging out the intense sensation. 

His hands, now familiar with your thighs, make their way up to the soft swell of your breasts, as you struggle to regain your breath. He’s cupping them in his hands, pinching your nipples in between his fingers, kissing them with ferveor. Hungry hands move over your breasts, your stomach, your face; cupping it so that he can kiss you with the sort of yearning that comes from years of unanswered desire. 

Your hands move over his body as well, moving over his abdomen chest and arms, defined from long hours of hard work. You kiss his throat and collarbones, kissing at the skin; licking, sucking and biting until you hear guttural moans coming from his throat. His lips are slightly parted, and his glossy dark eyes are fixed on your face; his fingers loosely tangled in your hair. 

He presses you down onto the mattress again, until he’s face to face; his arms on each side of your face, holding himself over you.

“You sure?” he asks, voice hoarse, panting slightly. 

“I want this” you answer him, voice low but clear, “I really, really want this Tom”

He smiles, breathing out the breath he’d been holding and moves away from you, reaching for the side of his bed and to take out a condom from the drawer. 

He places a quick kiss to your lips, your cheek, your belly button, before he sits up. He removes his underwear and you can feel your face heat up again. Because this is Tom, your Tom, whom you’ve been in love with for half your life. But being with him, both naked as the day you were born, feels right. You know everything about this man, all his preferences and secrets; his favourite movie and how he likes his food and why he skipped class every day for a month in year nine. And he knows everything about you. It feels right that he should know this as well; know each curve of your body and the way you like to be kissed and what has you moaning and begging for more. 

He unwraps the foil package and puts the condom on with firm fingers. Leaning over you again he lines up against your opening. His eyes glossy with lust, damp hair falling over his face; his mouth swollen and wet from kissing you.

Then with a sharp thrust and a groan he’s inside you. 

All coherent thoughts go out the window as he starts moving in and out of you. The only thing that exists is his strong, sweaty body above you, moving in and out of you with slow, deep thrusts. He’s so hard where you are soft and you can’t stop touching him, dragging your fingers over his back, pulling at his hair, kissing his arms. It’s like the wires in your brain have crossed, sending out sparks of pure pleasure in your body. 

He hits a particularly tender spot inside you and the groan that leaves you is almost animalistic.

Tom nearly halters in his pace, before collecting himself again. “Fuck” he moans out, kissing your neck. His movements become more frenzied and you roll your hips under him, meeting his movements; trying to get him deeper inside you. 

He pushes himself up onto his hands, pulls back slightly; and pushes in. Starting to really fuck you. 

You can’t stop looking up at him; naked body damp with sweat, muscles moving as he works; arms flexed and cheeks flushed. His eyes are closed pleasure now. Your hands are on his hips helping him set the pace as he fucks into you with fast, hard thrusts. Without warning you clutch around him in pleasure and he groans loudly.

“How the fuck does your cunt feel better than it tastes?” he asks, panting for air. “

He presses a hand over your heart, letting it rest there. You wonder if he can feel it pounding for him. You feel like you’re dissolving into a thousand tiny pieces as you come around him with a choked scream. 

He’s so close and you can practically feel it; aching for him to have it. You want him to come; in you, on you, over you. 

And then he does, his brows furrows; like the pleasure is so intense it hurts him. The sounds he makes when he comes are guttural; almost whimpering. 

As he falls down on the bed beside you he pulls you close, has you pressed against his body, an arm firmly wrapped around you. The sun has set now, but the ocean waves still crash onto the shore, the sound of it the only thing to fill the silence part from your laboured breathing; the music having gone quiet in the other room. 

Neither one of you say anything. You knew the end to this when he kissed you. You’ve regretted nothing that has happened here, and you know that he doesn’t either; but tomorrow you are leaving to drive all the way across the country and he cannot follow. You don’t know what will happen now, and he doesn't have the answer to that either. And so you just let him hold you; wishing with all your might that you could stop the morning from coming.

***

Please let me know your thoughts, genuinely don’t know what to make of this one. 

[toosweetfiddlesticks]

Can you do Bakugou x soft (male or gn) reader meeting a Karen and go creative with it hope you have fun

Big Meanie

Paring: Barista!Bakugou x Soft!Gn!Cashier reader

Warning: Karen being a Karen, cussing, bakujealous, Bakugou calling you a big meanie, not proof read

Catoergy: Comedy

A/N: Thank you for the request!!

Summary: boom boom man gets upset because you didn’t let him be the Hero of the day.

—————————

As you unlocked the door, you huffed a breathe of anxiety out and tried to build up as much optimism you could for your first day. You felt a mixture of anxiousness and excitement boil in you.

With a smile full of courage, you stepped into the clean kitchen. The lights contrasted and dimmed the already dark morning sky as you felt a cool breeze from an opened window. The hall was a bit dimmer from the kitchen so you turned those lights on for the rest of the co-workers. An ash halons hair boy was currently wrapping the store’s iconic colored apron around his waist. He tighter his grip as he caught a glismp of you.

“Good morning!” You spoke softly, but cheerful. You flashed a small smile but his demeanor did change. He held his solemn look at you when blood red eyes. “So...how was your sleep?” Your excuse of small talk feel short the silence in the air seemed to be even more awkward between the two of you. He grunted and muttered something under his breathe before speaking.

“Don’t forget to clock in.” He ignored your question which honestly, did not bother you. You took his warning and walked out to the time clock, punching in your time. Silence swallowed you both while once again. Ok y/n, your co-worker may not be the most friendliest, but hey it’s only your first day, how bad can it be.

”Also,” You head shot up from the time clock. Your co-workers back facing you. “Don’t talk to me, you boring extra.”

——————————

You began to start your third day shift with a proud smile on your face. As you made your way to the time clock to punch in, greetings of waves goodbyes from other workers thats shifts just ended, you’ve met made your start of the day feel even better. Humbly, you waved the two men off.

“Bye Kiri, bye Denki!” Denki giggly waved his hand in the arm with excitement as he happily walked with Kirishima.

“Bye Y/N!” The sharp tooth man cheerfully sang his farewell. His arm hugging around the shoulders of his shorter blonde hair friend. But before the two could fully walk out, the red head immediately turns back around, as if something just came to mind. “Also” he added, “watch out for the Karen’s.” Your head titled with puzzlement.

“The Karen’s?” You kept your question in your head and before you knew it, the two was gone.

But you shrugged it off for the day and continued to go back to work.

——————————

“Hey move it extra!” Bakugou’s voice arose from behind you like a sound of a hurricane warning. You huffed a little and stepped aside from the time clock. Tiredly, you twisted your body around and leaned against the wall, facing him with crossed arms. Your eyes dropped a bit and your eyelids cried to close. But though you body was ready to sleep, you were wide awake..kinda. You manage trying to hide your weary face. Holding a hopeful smile and you greeted Bakugou.

“Morning Bakugou.” There was a small chance he would really greet you back with a morning salutation. Today was not the latter. He’s body seemed a bit stiff, he’s face looked alive and refreshed, but his body slouched a bit. Turning his head to you, an eyebrow raised at you.

You stiffened a bit, you leaned off the grey wall with a feeling of astonishment  , “Wow that’s new.” A notion you told yourself.

Still, he said nothing, leaving you two both in somewhat awkward silence. By the looks of it, he was staring with bit of puzzlement in his eyes. He’s red eyes sparks with a look of examination. As if he was searching for a look, or scanning your farcical features like a robot. He was just standing there, arms crossed, eyes stern, eyebrows furrowed. It seemed like forever before you two said anything.

“Are you tired?” Bakugou finally spoke that shock you. You were a bit taken a back at his response but nodded you head. He grumbled something under his breathe and signaled you to follow him. “Come here,” he sighed.

You’re eyes widened, but you obeyed and follow. As you walked, you could hear his small mutters and talks but couldn’t understood a thing he said. He walked a little slow than usual, like if he was trying to make sure he didn’t leave in you in the dust.

The walk was short and you made it to the destination in no time. He groaned as you got there, the kitchen area. Your eyebrows drew with concern.

Backing up a little, you spoke “Uhm, look if you’re gonna splash me with water-“

But your cautiousness was only mocked by small chuckles that bubbled up in Bakugou as he picked up a plastics cup.

“No I won’t, ya idiot.” He interjected, “What’s your type of coffee, you like Frappuccino or somethin’?”

——————————

“Hey, Cashier Extra!” Y/N nostrils flare with heavy air leaving them. For the past three months and a half, you’ve been having to deal with one of the biggest meanies they had ever known in their entire life. Originally, you thought you were confused at times by him.

Bakugou Katsuki was one of the hardest people work with sometimes. It was like he had a whole book of mean names and rude comments. Or looked up how to send the worlds most bone-chilling stare. And after a long tiring day of work, right as you’re are about to clock out, you hear the small words “bye extra” leave his grumpy little pie hole. You wondered why his rude one point, then nice another.

Y/N briskly huff, straightening out any wrinkles or creases in your pale button up shirt. “Yeah Bakugou?” Y/N tried to give Bakugou the most genuine confusion on your face. Though Y/N didn’t find a lot great characteristics of Bakugou, but they knew that Bakugou was a smart man. He quickly caught onto their small frown creasing at the sides of their mouth and y/n bothered eyes.

But unlike usually, Bakugou’s face didn’t seem to get annoyed at that. No, instead, how facial expressions seemed to go down a little. Bakugou’s eyebrows furrowed, from y/n couldn’t tell what was on Bakugou’s mind. He’s volcanic eyes seemed to be put out.

Y/N would almost say the usual solemn face of Bakugou Katsuki just broke away for a minute.

Bakugou caught himself, the dust of his volcanic chucked up as the lava came back into his eyes, keeping a stern look. Though Bakugou wouldn’t admit, Bakugou had definitely fallen for Y/N strong admiration for this job and their determination. He’d give them the compliment from time to time, but to wasn’t as much as he wanted to say.

“Just make sure you remember to clock in.” He mumbled softly, Y/N could barely even hear it. They nodded, a bit confused, but nodded and almost went on to work like usual. “Hey!” Bakugou stopped Y/N in their tracks, “Be cautious of Karens.”

The name still confused you to this day, but once again, you shrugged it off with a nod and carried on.

——————

This would have to one of the most crowded shift you’ve ever had, ever. If you were a customer, driving up into the driveway, you would’ve definitely drive straight out by the amount of people parked or in the driveway, getting their order taken their.

Bakugou, Denki and six others carefully rushed with the drinks, other orders holding up on the racks. Kirishima, Mina, and another worker kept up their the best they could, taking people’s orders from the drive through, then there was you and three other cashiers. You four had to take the orders as smooth and quick as possible, all of you praying that the customer will have a little bit of compassion and patience. Lines of people excitedly waiting to order the new drink the shop put out.

The Christmas Chocolate Winter Cream. Your new enemy, almost every single child, adult, teen, everyone was asking and wanting that “creamy delicious coffee”. Who even lets their child drink coffee! You didn’t want any part of it.

“Stupid coffee ice cream, its not even December yet!” You quickly grumbled under your breath.

”Uhm, excuse me?” You nearly forgot about the rush hour at work today. Hastily you straighten your spine. The customer was a lady, maybe in her late 50s. Her pale skin wore brightly colored pigment over its wrinkles and creases. Her hair was short but bumped up and curled.

“Oh I said, hi welcome to StaryBunkers,” You correct yourself quickly, trying to pass your entirely different words as the same, you grasp notepad and it’s thin paper in one hand, and a pencil in another. Forcibly, you gave the customer a fake smile that would impress the greatest actress. “What would you like for today. Behind your fake smile and your facial creases, you internally prayed with every god, deity, and goddess you know, hoping that they wouldn’t say..

“The Christmas Chocolate Winter Cream,” The older lady grasp her young daughter tightly that was so short, you just now noticed her. She seems to be up to her mother’s knees. “make that two please, today’s my girls big day!” The woman’s words didn’t invoke any feeling of excitement that usually does when some says big day to you.

“tHe cHirStmAs cHocOlatE wIntEr cReAm”

Your sighs of annoyance was held captive in the bars of your fake smile. “Of course!” Your forgery of cheerfulness impressed your cashier partners who’s fake smile was somewhat stiff and expressionless. “Birthday I presume?” You ask, the pencil’s tip close to the paper, ready to write.

“Yep!” The little girl chirped, her two brown pigtails swinging with you as she nodded her head. Ok you had to admit, the little girl was very sweet and cute. She single handedly made your stressful day a little bit better (ugh what a queen, we stan)

Your smile became more genuine, you heart even warmed a little.. “Coming right up, wait a moment please.” You paced hastily behind you, internally wishing you could spend you whole entire day in the back. You made your way quickly to the kitchen, hoping the customer were the patient type as you heard the shouts of anger coming from the drive through. You took a quick glance at the altercation.

“I SAID CHRISTMAS CHOCOLATE WINTER CREAM,” The customer aggressively yanked the the lid up. “THIS ISN’T ENOUGH CREAM!” The white and red haired boy calmly his hands out, trying to rationalize with the person.

“Sir, ” He spoke with dullness, “Thats how much cream comes with it.” But the customer only got even more hotheaded.

“NO IT ISN’T!”

“Yes it is.” Todoroki scrunched his face up, “You don’t even work here, how would you know?” Todoroki, unknowingly made the man even more upset which cause the drink from his hand to fly out towards him. You panic, rushing over there the close the door before it was too late. But, the man was quicker, and as the drink came rushing to a motionless Todoroki, a body came rushing in to take the hit, Kirishima.

“Brrooooooo” He said in slow motion. “Poor Kiri” you internally spoke with pity. And as the man ran away, kirishima’s stomach burned from the heat of the coffee. You cringed at the sound of his small whimpers of pain. “F in the chat.” You busy back to the kitchen.

The steam from the coffee makers brush against your skin, squeezing out a very thin layer of sweat on your cheeks. Quickly, you yelled.

“Two Today Specials for Cashier number UNO,” the Barista’s groaned, “AKA Y/N!” You yelled again for clarification. They, annoyedly, went back to work with the drinks again. The most pissed out of all them though was Bakugou. Not cause of the loaded day. But because everyone was going to “slow”. He huffed, panted, scream, yelled, intensely ordered and more,

The man was like lighting, filling up cup after cup after cup.

“Move your asses!” He sealed three cups and handed them to Mina, “Y/N stop wasting your time back here and work!” Your posture caved in, but you obey his command like a solider obeying their Sargent.

“Aye aye, Captain.” You sang jokingly. And while the others smirk and giggled amongst the stresss, Bakugou arch an eyebrow at your jokes and went back to work.

You happily went along to the front again to update the mother and the daughter about their meals. But as you approach them, you could hear the mother’s now bewildered voice. It was like cat nails to a chalkboard and her voice was crackly.

Her scream filled the whole place, putting a pause on the whole day. You internally panicked, not only can you feel the wrath of the woman from where you were standing, you could also feel the piercing and grim stare of Bakugou behind you. Once again, you we’re praying to gods, goddess, and deities. Praying that whatever is out there won’t eat you alive. Swallowing down your fear, you began to walk, with the feeling of it stuck down in your stomach.

Once you were in her eyesight, she swatted her daughters arms. And like a puppy, the girl immediately obeyed, handing her phone to her. The lady was obnoxiously grumbling words under breath as she pressed record. And with a large gulp she began her fit. You knew exactly what was gonna happen.

This..this must be the Karen they’ve talked about.

“SAY HELLO TO THE MEDIA!” Her voice sings with pride, “THIS PERSON MADE MY DAUGHTER WAIT ONE HOUR FOR HER DRINK-“ Your eyes grew with shock at the woman’s words. But before you could say anything, the cashier next to you, Deku interjected. His arm reached over to hover over your body as a means to protect you.

“Hang on now!” He argued. “You’ve only been here for three minutes!” You nodded in agreement. Pushing Deku’s arm up to cover your face from the camera.

“I’m sorry for the wait ma’am” you apologize, “But all you had to do was wait a couple of more minute-“

“DO YOU SEE THIS?” The woman ignored your remarks and claims, instead focusing on her own, “THEY ARE TRYING TO DISCREDIT ME AND MY NINE! YES NINE! YEAR OLD DAUGHTER!” She waved her phone in her daughters face like she was evidence. She waved, hopped, and dance around the counters and to other people’s table. “HOW CAN YOU PEOPLE DRINK HERE!” Her words and movements were melodramatic and over the top.

And after her little rant to the people, some of which left, she stomped her way back to you and Deku. This time, she had a nasty smirk on her face and a hot drink in her free hand she stolen from another customer.

“Ya know what!”

“Oh no not this again”

Hastily, you moved Deku and you away from the woman’s sight. You two ran into the back kitchen to Chef Ramsey Bakugou. Who was now even more pissed. Not only did Y/N make a Karen mad (ok he knew it impossible not to make them mad he’s just stressed). But no, instead of running to him, Y/N runs to Deku first?! Man’s got his priorities straight.

As Deku quickly runs over the back area to get his phone, you rush over to Bakugou and the others in panic. “Bakugou, call the police!” The others around quickly take of aprons and another things at the words of that. Police involved?? Yep they think a murder just went down. But Bakugou just grumbles and huffs.

“No.”

....

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN NO!?” Bakugou looks at you with bewilderment, this is his first time hearing you yell at him that way. But before he process the fact that a cinnamon bun is yelling at him, you began to grasp and shake at his shoulders. “THE LADY IS TRYING TO KILL ME!”

“WELL YOU SHOULD’VE CAME TO ME INSTEAD OF FUCKING DEKU FOR PROTECTION..” Bakugou fumbled and shouted through his words. “Y-YOU BIG MEANIE”

You two went silent after that,

Big

...

Big Meanie?

Deku came out from the back with his phone, “Shoto!” Todoroki’s head jerked towards his way. “Help me with the Karen!” Todoroki nodded.

————-

Finally, the situation was under control, the Karen was banned from the coffee shop, Mina and Denki gave Kirishima some aloe. And while things didn’t really calm down until the day was done, everyone seemed a bit less tense, expect you and Bakugou. For the rest of the day, he was knocking over cups, using wrong lids, and spilling coffee. Dude’s lucky that he wasn’t fire. He felt embarrassed by the way he reacted. Now Y/N probably saw him as some type of control freak. Tensions were high and he was stressful.

Bakugou quickly moved pass the others, trying to clock out early before Y/N sees him-

“Hey Bakugou” Bakugou internally groaned at the sound of your voice. Screw you plot device he said to himself. Bakugou turned his head to the side to face you. Yo he side view is lowkey cute you noted. “Could we talk outside, after I clock out?”

Oh how badly Bakugou wanted to say no. The pit in his stomach grew bigger as he nodded.

“Great, just give me a second” Bakugou nodded once again and quickly clocked out. He’s footsteps echoed in his head as he waited outside, leaning against the glass wall of the store.

He didn’t know what you were gonna say, but he had an idea of it. He annoyed you to no end, made things harder for you, and was never truly nice to you that often. How was he suppose to believe that you would like a guy like him in anyway? He internally frowned at his thoughts, the words eating him up and chewing him out only to get stepped on by the crushing feeling of doubt.

Once he saw the buildings door open with you coming out to join him, that crushing feeling of doubt covered and weighed down on him. This was it he thought. He shoved his hands into his pockets, readying himself for the painful impact of rejected.

“Bakugou..” you softly asked. Bakugou hmm’d at you with a feeling of shame boiling inside.. “Did you mean it when you said i was a big meanie?” Bakugou let out a sigh of pain.

He caught onto your words late, “Look I’m sorry for-what?”

“You called me a big meanie.” You mumbled, “and I was wondering if you were serious because one, you’re like 23.”

“I’m 16” he deadpanned  “Like you.” You ignored him though.

“and two, you’re the one who’s been acting like a big meanie.” You accused which wasn’t contradicted, “And all cause you like me huh” Bakugou opened his mouth to spew his defense, but nothing came out but a small “I”. He sighed defeatedly.

“Im sorry,” He spoke. “I just, didn’t know how to tell you or whatever.” He spoke so awkwardly and shy. “I’ll uh, I’ll leave you alone or whatever.”

You drew out a finger, objecting. “Hold on now,” you replied. “Who said I didn’t like you?” Bakugou’s heart sparked at those words, he lifted his head, red sparks in his eyes. “Hey what can I say? A big meanie like me likes big meanies too.”

[jjuzoir]

Homare Arisugawa General HCS

request: “Hi Sora! I never see any art/writing for my boy Homare from A3! (Maybe because his dialogue is so ridiculous.) Would you mind writing something for him?” from tlali

a/n: ahhh i don’t think i’ve ever taken so long in a request jdjdndnd but i just wanted to make it right because i love homare so much❕ he deserves everything and more i just HDHSJJA we need more homare love 🤬 his dialogue is hilarious and i feel like we need to appreciate his style more no more homare slander 🙅

word count: 1667

- He smells like earl gray tea. No one knows why since he uses unscented soaps, he says it’s probably because he spends most of his time drinking or around tea.

- He’s very particular about his hair, he uses very specific shampoos and conditioners that he will absolutely not share or change unless he notices his hair needs it. Talking about his hair, it’s naturally kind of dry so he uses a lot of hydrating products which leaves him with the softest, most fluffy hair ever. It’s like touching a cloud.

- One of his favorite gifts given to him is a tie given to him as a birthday gift by his members. Everyone pitched it, including Izumi, and Azuma picked it out. It’s black, much like his everyday tie, but it’s got a small embroidered snowflake.

- He’s got three main pairs of glasses; his everyday ones he keeps at hand when he goes out, his at home ones which are (according to him) less flattering, and his driving ones. Keep in mind he can’t drive, he doesn’t even own a car.

- He can speak french and latin, and he’s super loud about it too. He’ll sometimes slip in french phrases and no one will understand other than Chikage and it’s just a mess - Muku is always so amazed that he knows two other languages too and probably asks him to teach him sometime.

- Definitely has the prettiest handwriting when it comes to the roman alphabet, he writes in ink and with fancy pens that cost more than Banri’s tuition.

- Absolutely has a bunch of business cards printed out, each with its own quote made by him. Sakyo thought it was such a waste printing them until he realized that no matter how many Homare took when he went to run errands he always gave them all, to whom? No one knows.

- He’s very well respected in the literary community, which still shocks pretty much everyone. He gets stopped often by fans or people who’ve read his work, it happens at least once a day and Izumi really doesn’t… she doesn’t understand, poor girl.

- He’s not that good with phone calls, he’s not bad but he definitely prefers texting or just talking face to face. To him there’s just a certain level of discontent he doesn’t like that doesn’t exist in other mediums.

- His favorite shows are either comedies or heavy hitting detective shows, there is no inbetween. You’ll walk in on him watching a sitcom leave the room and walk in on a serial killer chase down.

- About his love for detective shows, his favorite pastime is trying to solve the mysteries with the main character. He’ll rewatch the episode so many times to try and pick up clues, he’ll take notes and come to a conclusion and he loves the feeling of getting it right.

- In the same spirit as the statement above, absolutely got Tsumugi and Sakyo hooked on some of his favorites and they hang out to talk about the latest episodes and the overarching mystery. The conversations can tend to get kind of heavy very quick, more than once Muku thought they were investigating a real crime and almost fainted.

- He looks like he’s probably allergic to wool sweaters, they make his skin itch and he always needs to use a shirt underneath them - so he tends to buy those expensive anti-allergic ones that need to be washed in a very specific way that could probably pay Tsuzuru’s whole college debt and it takes a lot of restraint from the playwright not to steal one and sell in the black market.

- Talking about Tsuzuru, he often gives him writing advice. Said advice tends to be very useful, like keeping a pen and notebook on him in case anything comes to mind during the day or writing daily to help ease him into a style, etc. Homare genuinely wants him to bloom into a writer and is willing to beta-read anything Minagi needs, be it a script or a sleep deprived rambling about the gay subtext in Nocturnity.

- Arisugawa sets himself reading goals each month, he likes to read at least one book. He prefers poetry books or classic english literature, but he also likes to read romance books or really bizarre dystopian novels.

- Has read more books than most people in the company and can give very detailed recommendations if you give him like a day.

- Sings operas in the shower, unless stopped he will keep going until the second act. Surprisingly good falsetto, but one time Tenma thought it was a Banshee for a second and almost cried into Juza’s chest.

- He’s not only an overly emotional drunk but also a loud drunk, he’s already quite loud but when he’s downed half a bottle of wine and a shot of vodka he’s louder than the Summer Troupe combined. Because of this, Izumi tends to restrict his alcohol intake when they’re at the dorm.

- I can see him being very big into musicals, not all musicals but a very specific niche; classic horror novels turned into musicals. He’s a very big fan of both the German and Korean versions of Dracula, his favorite song is probably “Zu Ende” or the Korean version of “It’s Over”. He also likes the Frankenstein musical too, but overall he finds Junsu’s Dracula more interesting thus his preference.

- He will talk your ear off if you mention any musical though, be it a classic like Phantom or something newer like Heathers.

- A very big fan of Ghibli movies, he told me so himself today. He really likes Spirited Away though, it’s a movie he’s watched so many times but he’s still completely enamoured by it; he probably has made the Winter Troupe watch it at least once and Hisoka definitely knows the beginning of the movie by heart now.

- Homare is also really good at drawing, not like Kazunari but he’s probably the second best. He learned by analyzing and looking at artists he admired and picking up on their techniques. A true Renaissance Man™️.

- I feel like he’d also have a bunch of skills that are kind of, useless? He can probably carve wood and make candles, he also took a course in glass blowing probably. Arisugawa just wants to try everything at least once, his motto is probably to explore and learn as much as possible, not just about art but the world (he can be surprisingly smart if you have a dictionary at hand).

- Very observant, just in general. Which can be both good and bad, it’s good because it helps him understand the situation in ways others might not but it leads to him to sometimes overthinking things and behaving in manners which may annoy or hurt others.

- He also has a hard time trying to react to social cues, as seen in game, with certain people. While he’s worked it out with the Winter troupe and the Mankai company he still struggles when it comes to new people.

- Will make little tunes he sings in the shower that kind of become a little daily song, each day there’s a new one he’ll hum.

- He also canonly makes music and he makes contemporary electro-pop, you cannot change my mind. He probably also mixes opera and classical music into his tunes, which can go from 1 minute to 10, so you end up with a very cool mix of orchestra and techno-pop - it’s not everyone’s cup of tea but he’s probably got his own niche group.

- Now, into more romantic HCs...

- He’s a good flirt, a very good flirt. They may sound weird looking back at it, but his pickup lines work and they work well.

- He knows when to stop pursuing someone too. He senses even a bit of discomfort and he’s backing away, won’t ask anything. Very big on consent and unless stated absolutely explicitly he’ll keep his distance.

- A true gentleman, please - he’ll never let his dates pay, always open the doors for them, will even do the “walk on the inside of the sidewalk” when he’s walking you home.

- His favorite dates tend to be ones where you get to know more about each other, not always necessarily by talking though. Being able to go into a bookstore and look at the books, seeing the ones you pick, what you pick at a cafe or restaurant, it all helps him draw a better picture of who you are and he likes to think it helps you get to know him better too.

- He’s very in tune with his S/O’s feelings but is afraid of overstepping any boundaries which may lead to some miscommunication at the beginning of the relationship. But it’s workable and it wouldn’t be that big an issue in the long run as long as his partner is willing to help him understand them.

- Not big on PDA, thinks certain things should remain inside - not to say he wouldn’t talk for hours about his partner to anyone who listens but things like kissing or hugs tend to be behind closed doors. He’s okay with hand holding and maybe a kiss on the cheek though!

- Likes wearing matching outfits with his S/O, thinks it shows how they’re “one in spirit, heart, and mind” and will not stop pointing it out to the point even married couples feel single as they hear him ramble on about the subtle coordination in your color schemes to create a perfect contrast.

- Notices the smallest things like how much sugar you like in your drinks, the telltale signs of when you’re lying or uncomfortable, how you act when you’re too cold or too hot, and learns it by heart.

- Homare is also the kind of boyfriend who’d confront the waiter if they get your order wrong, he’s not ashamed of it either.

- He kind of just wants to make sure you’re doing well and happy, he’s a gentleman.

- Damn… I love him so much

[kireijae]

i.o.u- l.dh

summary: a late night adventure with Haechan, your older brother’s best friend, leads you to confront your feelings for him.

genre: non idol au, fluff, tiny bit of angst if you squint, technically a college au as well, also kind of comedy but i’m not very funny

word count: 4,029

warnings: swearing and there’s a slightly steamy makeout scene, also like the implied use of weed but it’s a v small one i promise.

a/n: eee my first hyuckie imagine! i worked really hard on this so i hope you all like iittt! please leave feedback if you can! also this was edited at 10:55pm and i’m exhausted so there are probably mistakes-

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Your eyes scanned the street from your place on the sidewalk. The streets glistened under the streetlights with the rainwater that had fallen earlier. The cool breeze was refreshing against your skin, unlike the musty air you’d been swamped with in the party upstairs. The smoke and the presence of so many strangers had nearly left you gasping for air.

You checked your phone for any messages from your brother, eager to get as far away from the party as possible, but as soon as your phone unlocked you heard a honk from the street, which pulled your head up.

There was a black car pulled up right ahead, your heart picked up its pace when the tinted window sunk down low enough to reveal Haechan. His hair was a light brown, somehow still shiny even though you’d seen him with at least three different hair colours in the past two months. His skin was glowing too- even under the subpar car light.

“Y/n!” he had to yell to be heard over the scraping sound of the cars, “Taeil sent me to pick you up!”

You dropped your shoulders from their tensed position, pushing down your feelings and stepping forward to open the car door and get inside. The car smelled like Haechan: men’s shower gel and a faint woodsy scent.

“Where’s my brother?” you turned to him, genuine confusion curved into your brows.

“What? Am I not good enough?” Haechan asked, placing a hand on his chest and feigning offence.

You shook your head at him, used to his antics by now. He’d been best friends with your brother since preschool, always there at family gatherings and lazing around your house on most weekends.

“Well, when I asked my brother to come pick me up I sort of expected him to pick me up,” you said it slowly, matching his teasing with your own. Things with him always fell into a rhythm like this, after the initial anxiety of being around someone you had feelings for left, snarky comments bounced back and forth like a ping pong ball between the two of you. 

“Okay, fair point,” he said, starting the car, “He’s still busy with that essay. Apparently it’s due in like twenty minutes or something. So, since I’m such a good friend I offered to pick you up.”

“Haechan, before I left you were the reason he wasn’t doing any work,” you scoffed, refusing to let his ego inflate- even for a minute.

“That’s not true! He was on a break!” he whined, eyes wide at the accusation but his gaze still directed towards the road.

“For three hours?”

“Yes,” he said, matter of factly with a nod of his head, “Rest is important.”

“Whatever,” you said, “Just take me home.” 

“I actually have to do something else for Taeil, too,” he didn’t take his eyes off the road, they were glinting from the neon signs that lined the buildings on the street outside. The streetlights made the skin of his hands glow in passing, creating a hypnotic rhythm of light and dark over his skin.

“Can you not drop me off first?” you knew the answer even before you asked- he was going to make you go with him. And you were going to give in.

“Please?!” he whined again, plush bottom lip drooping in a pout, “It’s pretty far and I hate being alone!”

Sighing, you asked, “Where is it?”

“Johnny’s house…” He trailed off, expecting an outburst to come from you at the distance you’d have to drive.

You couldn’t believe you were considering this. Johnny’s house was on the other side of the city and you were already tired out from the party you’d spent only half an hour at. But, something in you wanted to stay. The thought of spending some time with someone outside your friend group seemed refreshing and the fact that it was Haechan was even more enticing.

You turned your head to look out the tinted window at the buildings passing by you in a blur, “Fine,” you sighed, “but you owe me.”

He grinned, his full cheeks jutting out further, and made a sharp turn in the opposite direction of your apartment. Your body swayed at the sudden change in direction and you held onto the side of the seat instinctually. Haechan was a good driver- but a slightly wreckless one at that.

After a few moments he turned on the radio, tossing you his phone, “Put some music on.”

Looking through his phone, you weren’t surprised at the extensive collection of music he had on his Spotify- most of the songs were new ones you hadn’t heard of before. Others were old throwback songs from the 2000’s and your mouth turned up into a smile at the sight of Shinee’s ‘Replay.’

You pressed play and leaned back in your seat, grin even bigger now. You waited for his reaction, which came in the form of a wave of laughter. 

“Oh, fuck,” he said, barely able to speak from laughter, “Remember when Lucas danced to this at your sleepover party?”

“Of course I remember that, he ruined the song for me forever,” you laughed along with him.

Your smile turned into a grimace at his next question though, “What ever happened to Lucas- actually to that whole group of friends? I never see them anymore.”

“Drifted apart,” you mumbled. You truly wished there was more to say than that. You wished you could say you tried to stay in touch when you went to university but couldn’t; or that something huge had happened that couldn’t be fixed. That wasn’t the truth, though. You hadn’t done anything- nothing that made them leave and nothing that made them stay.

Haechan sensed the tension around the topic and let the conversation fade, hoping the sense of unease would dissipate with it.

When the next song was over, Haechan came to a stop at a gas station, “Want anything?” he asked, pulling up the handbrake and taking the keys out of the ignition. The car practically fell down to the road beneath it as the power was turned off.

“I don’t have any money on me,” you raised your empty hands.

“So you don’t want any of those gross gummy bears you like? Or a soda?” he raised his perfectly shaped eyebrow at you, “I’ll buy them for you.”

“I’ll take the gummy bears if they have any,” you said gratefully, and he got out of the car and went into the shop.

You thought about your earlier conversation with Haechan- about how much you missed your friends. The way they’d joke around with you and tease you lightheartedly about anything and everything. A year ago you would have nearly exploded at the idea of being alone with Haechan at all- let alone for this long- and they would have teased you about it for weeks. Somehow though, those friendships faded. You went to a different university to them, you paid attention to your studies and spent more time at home than you ever had. The only contact you had with other people being with fellow students between lectures and at home with your brother and his friends.

“I got you the biggest packet they had,” came Haechan’s voice through the open window, “and the peach soda you like.”

You smiled at him, thankful that he’d brought you out of your thoughts and thankful for the snacks, “I could kiss you.” 

“Mm? Then by all means please do,” his signature shit eating grin was plastered on his face. 

Your cheeks heated up visibly at that, though you hoped the poor lighting in the car hid the fact. You hit him in the chest with the back of your hand and he doubled over in fake agony, the canned coffee he bought falling to the ground.

“Awh,” he groaned, continuing his act. 

“Oh please,” you said, rolling your eyes, “Just start the car, Hyuck.” 

“I can’t. My pride- it’s bruised,” he held onto his stomach and shook his head, eyes screwed shut.

Before you could stop yourself you leaned over and pressed your lips to his cold cheek in a hasty kiss.

“There,” you tried your hardest not to show your surprise at your own actions, “Better?”

He perked up, back pin straight, eyes wide and a huge smile on his face, “Very much so, yes.”

Before you could do anything, he started the car. A smirk struggled its way onto his face despite his efforts to stop it and his cheeks became a beautiful pink colour. His sudden shyness made yours deflate slightly and you felt your heart and cheeks warm at the thought of your effect on him.

“Hey,” he said suddenly after a few moments, “Hand me one of those gummies.”

He held out his hand, the skin pulled tightly over his slender, outstretched fingers. When you didn’t make a move to place one of the sweets in his hand, he made a grabbing motion with his fingers. That brought you out of your weird staring stupor and prompted you to grab a few gummy bears from the packet to place in his hand, hoping he hadn’t noticed your weird hand staring moment.

He shoved all six of the sweets into his mouth at once, face scrunching up in disgust, “These really are terrible,” his words distorted by the gummies in his mouth.

“Then why’d you ask for them?” you looked over to him, your mouth pulled into a smile and your brows furrowed at his actions. Your cheeks were starting to hurt- they always did after spending so much time with him.

“I forgot they were that bad,” when he came to a stop at a red light he shook his body as if it would rid his mouth of the flavour. 

The rest of the drive to Johnny’s house was filled with more laughter and sneaky comments thrown back and forth. There were fewer cars on the road the longer you drove and the movement of the car seemed to calm you.

In the driveway of Johnny’s parents’ house, Haechan turned to you once again, “Are you gonna come in?” 

You nodded and got out with him, you’d never actually been in Johnny’s house- since most of them still lived with their parents, Taeil’s friends usually came over to your shared apartment.

Johnny opened the door even before you got to it and ushered both of you inside, you assumed Haechan and texted him when you stopped.

“You guys have to be quiet,” he said, without even a ‘hello’, “My mom and dad are sleeping and they were in a shitty mood earlier.”

“Hey,” you asked quietly, grabbing Johnny’s attention, “Where’s the bathroom?”

“Right through that door,” he pointed behind you and you went in.

You went to the sink to wash your hands, they were sticky from the sweets you’d had in the car. Along with the sound of the water spilling into the sink, you heard Johnny and Haechan’s voices through the thin walls- so much for being quiet.

“You two finally together or something?” 

“Huh? No. Listen-”

“Dude, you’ve had a crush on them since forever, how have neither of you said anything?”

Your eyes widened at those words and you felt the blood in your face sink down to your heart. You turned off the tap and put your cold hands on your neck, before wiping them on a towel.

“Listen,” his voice was as stern as it could be, though it broke a bit at the end of the word, “Did you find Taeil’s textbook: yes or no?”

You heard a chuckle that had to be Johnny’s, “Alright I’ll go get it- by the way-”

His sentence was interrupted by you coming out of the bathroom.

“Did I interrupt something?” you asked in a tone that you hoped came off as joking. 

“I need a favour,” Johnny said, ignoring your words and leaving the room for a few seconds to find the textbook Haechan had been so adamant about getting. He came back, textbook in one hand along and a dark piece of material in the other, “Jaehyun left his hoodie here, can you get it to him, please?”

You yawned, taking the textbook when he handed it to you, “Why can’t you do it?”

“My parents won’t let me use the car after I locked the keys inside it last week,” he rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment as he said it, words falling pathetically to the carpeted floor.

“And why can’t Jaehyun come get his own damn-” you were cut off by Haechan.

“Okay we’ll do it, but-” he took the black hoodie from Johnny, who was looking up at Haechan with his head still bowed. He pointed a finger at him, “-you owe me,” then pointed the same finger at you, “And I owe you.”

“Twice!” you said as he pulled you by the hand towards the front door. You both said your goodbyes to a smiling Johnny and got back in Hyuck’s car. Little raindrops had appeared on the windscreen since you’d gone inside.

“I swear after this I’ll take you home,” you smiled at him at that, letting him know it didn’t bother you. 

The car began moving again, 90’s RnB playing softly in the background and soon the rain got heavier, bulbous drops hitting the car. Jaehyun’s apartment was only a few minutes away from Johnny’s, in a highrise building lined with silver, glittering windows. 

“His parents are loaded,” said Haechan when he noticed your eyes trying to see the top of the building through the rain clouds above.

“Please tell me he’s not on the top floor,” you whined as Haechan parked the car.

He got out before you and you heard a satisfied sigh echo through the undercover parking.

“I’m so fucking good at this,” he said, hands on his hips, standing behind the car. 

You got out and shut the door, walking over skeptically to see what he was talking about. 

“Perfect,” he said, gesturing to his car in the parking space.

He was right- the car was perfectly in the centre of the two white lines. You huffed out a laugh at him and his ego, handing him the hoodie he’d apparently forgotten about, “Alright, I get it , you can park a car. Can we go inside now?”

“Hey, you’re lucky you get to witness a master operating that vehicle! Maybe observing me will help you actually pass next time,” he leaned his head over to you while he was walking, his tone was cocky and he had a sly smile on his face.

You flicked him on the forehead between the fluffy strands of hair that lay there and he yelped while you said, “Fuck off that test is rigged.” 

“First of all- not true. Second- why the fuck did you flick me?!” he yelled before you came to the automated glass door of the lobby.

In front of you stood two marble pillars in the middle of the room that twisted all the way up to the ceiling. Beyond them was a chandelier, jewels dangling over a seating area, where lush white couches stood. They looked as if no one had ever laid a hand on them on them and the plants that littered the room looked so real you had to touch one to be sure of the material. 

“You were being an ass,” you answered simply after taking in the room.

You followed Hyuck over to the elevator, the sound of your footsteps seemed to have a mind of their own, you swore you could hear them walking up the walls and across the ceiling.

As soon as the elevator doors opened, a group of people around the same age as you stampeded into the lobby and then the elevator. All of them dressed in glittering clothes and bright, shining makeup. One of them had eyelids full of pastel glitter and another had a coat made out of fluffy white feathers. 

You all crowded into the elevator, you and Haechan unfortunately squeezed right into the back corner of the metal box.

“What floor are you two headed to?” asked a man who was in the highest heels you’d ever seen in your life.

“The top floor!” Haechan basically had to throw his voice over the glittering heads of the other people.

You groaned at his words and felt the elevator start moving. When you’d asked to get picked up from a party you hadn’t expected to be shoved between Haechan and a girl with rhinestones on every inch of her dress instead. You’d left the party to get away from people, not to get pressed up against them.

You felt a tap on your shoulder and turned to the girl. “You two dating?” she asked, blue eyes lingering on Haechan’s face.

“Uh n-” you began, but Hyuck spoke over you.

“Not yet- I’m working on that,” he said smoothly and winked at you, which made your heart begin to push against your chest rather violently. 

“Too bad,” she said as the doors to the elevator slide open to the fourth floor, “you’re cute.” She winked at you and walked out with the rest of the group, their heels and accessories clinking down the hallway. 

You stood in shock from having been flirted with twice in the span of thirty seconds, not realising that you were still pressed against Haechan. 

“Y/n~” he said in a sing-song voice, dragging your eyes away from the spot you’d been staring at.

“Sorry!” you said a bit too loudly, moving to dart off him. Hyuck, however, held you to his side, only stepping forward to press the button for the top floor again with his index finger, holding Jaehyun’s now crinkled hoodie with his other fingers.

“Just needed to press the button again- it resets sometimes,” he said, stepping back into his place, “You okay?”

“Were you being serious? About ‘working on’ dating me?” the words came out quickly. Your voice was smaller than you thought it would be and it carried an air of surprise- which it shouldn’t have, since you’d heard him and Johnny talking earlier, but it felt more real now.

His brown eyes glided across your face, he seemed to be exploring every option he could in his mind. Lips pulled close to his teeth and eyes wide, before he leaned in and kissed you. 

He tasted like the canned coffee he’d had and mint and the second you tasted that combination on his lips you couldn’t pull away. He placed his hands on your waist and pulled you flush against him, your arms flung over his shoulders. The kiss heated up fast, his hands gripping at you to try to pull you even closer, your fingers threading through his hair, shaky sighs and satisfied hums filling the elevator. 

Just as you both pulled away for air, the doors opened on the floor seven levels down from where Jaehyun’s apartment was. An old couple appeared immediately and stepped into the elevator. You took a step to the side to get away from Hyuck, but stood on the hoodie Haechan had apparently dropped. You picked it up, holding it in front of you with both hands.

“I told you it was the wrong floor,” said the woman, closing her eyes in annoyance.

You tried your best to look presentable as they bickered, straightening your shirt and wiping at your mouth with the back of your hand. Hyuck did the same, combing his hands through his hair and adjusting his jeans. Once the reality of the situation sunk in for the both of you, it became hard to even look at each other without laughing. You had to pretend to yawn in order to hide your smile and Haechan pulled his lips between his teeth to literally bite his own smile back. 

Once the couple got out on their floor (still one below the top), you and Hyuck fell into laughter, with him literally falling to the floor on hands and knees. You leaned against the mirrored wall of the elevator and laughed in silent breaths and funny hiccoughing sounds. Soon, the door opened and you gathered yourself as much as you could before you helped Haechan up off the floor. Halfway down the rows of apartment doors you and Haechan had calmed down, the mix of embarrassment, tension and perhaps a bit of tiredness having died down. 

The hallway was carpeted and filled with the muffled sound of music coming from one of the residents on the floor. Your heart nearly dropped when Haechan stopped in front of the door from which you were sure the music was coming. 

He pulled out his phone and, not letting go of your hand which he had been holding onto since you helped him up, texted Jaehyun. A few seconds later, the door opened to Jaehyun, who seemed half asleep as he leaned on the doorframe. You were glad the mood of the apartment seemed to be the opposite of a houseparty. 

“Yeah?” he blinked slowly, eyes slightly red.

Haechan snorted at Jaehyun’s state- because he was most definitely in one- “Johnny asked us to bring you this,” he pointed to the hoodie- which was now completely crinkled and had a dirt mark on it- which you held out to him.

Jaehyun took the hoodie, not even looking at it. He looked between the two of you, his gaze falling down to your intertwined hands, “Fuck you, Haechan,” he said, head tilting back in annoyance, “Now I owe Johnny ₩10,000.”

“What?!” Haechan’s jaw dropped

“I have a bet with Johnny,” he said, yawning halfway through and leaning his head on the doorframe, “And I just lost.”

“How long have you had this bet?!” Haechan sounded genuinely betrayed.

“About 15 minutes,” he said nonchalantly, moving his hair out of his face, only for it to fall right back where it was.

That had you confused, “What was the bet?”

“That you two would get your shit together by the time you got here,” Hyuck scoffed and looked away in disbelief, tongue in his cheek, “Oh and I think Taeil owes Taeyong money now, too.”

Right then, your phone chimed with a message from the gambling brother in question and you opened it while the two boys argued about Hyuck himself not being in on any of the bets.

the youngest: hey, can u guys bring milk? its finished :/

you: sighs alright 

you: btw apparently you owe taeyong money now xx :)

You locked your phone before you could see his reaction and slid it back into your pocket. You turned to Hyuck again and sighed, “Taeil needs milk,” you stated incredulously.

He raised his eyebrows, “Okay now he owes both of us. And this isn’t over- next time there’s a bet I want in,” he said frowning at the older boy like a little kid.

The two of you said goodbye to Jaehyun, who kicked the door closed behind him, and returned to the car once again.

“Were we both really that obvious?” you asked as you clipped in your seatbelt.

“I don’t know about you but I was really good at hiding it,” his smug- and obviously sarcastic- tone made you cackle.

“Yeah that’s why Johnny knew you’ve liked me ‘since forever,’” you said, quoting the words you’d heard through the bathroom wall. 

His eyes widened so much you thought they’d come tumbling out of their sockets, “You heard that?” his gaze was switching rapidly between you and the road now.

You smirked at him and nodded simply.

“By the way,” Haechan’s voice was a bit croaky now, after all it was nearing 3am, “You will go out with me right? Like tomorrow night?” 

“Of course,you owe me two actually,” you didn’t have the energy to tease him further, your eyelids were practically dragging themselves across your eyes.

The last thing you saw before you fell asleep was Haechan’s flushed cheeks and the giant smile on his face.

i just remembered you asked for a tag o-O @infnteen sorry for the late one!

if anyone else wants to be tagged in my works please lmk!:)

if you enjoyed this, buy me a ko-fi!

© copyright jewelledtae 2021, all rights reserved

[thechickflickeffect]

Jennifer’s Body and the Male Gaze

Megan Fox is a household name – even if you can’t name her entire filmography, every movie she’s ever been in, you’ve probably at least heard of her. Maybe you saw her in the Transformers films. Maybe you just heard your bro talking about how “bangin’ hot” she was back in her prime. Maybe you saw her in Jennifer’s Body and, depending on the demographics you were in, either loved or hated it.

Jennifer’s Body – a chick-flick horror movie marketed to college frat guys and people who enjoyed the movie Juno. Holy mis-advertising Batman?

Alright, so there was some logic behind the advertising choices of this satiric man-eating movie. When the marketing team picked who they would invite to the first screenings of their movie, they wanted to reach out to people who would enjoy watching a movie with Megan Fox in it (because she was extremely objectified and sexualized by the media and this made her well liked among teen and college-aged boys) and people who had enjoyed Diablo Cody’s, the screenwriter of Jennifer’s Body, first movie, Juno, because they assumed they would want to support Cody again.

That doesn’t make the logic good logic. Jennifer’s Body was completely different than Juno, which was a feel-good coming of age comedy about a pregnant teen. Jennifer’s Body was, quite literally, about murder. In regards to the other demographic, the most enjoyment a frat guy would get out of Jennifer’s Body would be watching Amanda Seyfried and Megan Fox make out and having an excuse to fetishize lesbians. They just wanted to watch Megan Fox be hot; they had no interest in watching as she devours and dehumanizes boys, exemplified with the well known cut line (that was included in trailers) of Needy exclaiming that she’s killing people and her responding, “no, I’m killing boys!”.

Of course the first reviews were going to be bad, coming from the exact opposite demographics of the ones that the movie was intended for. In a recent interview, Diablo Cody recalls laying out how she thought marketing should go and receiving an email in response that simply read, “Megan fox hot”. However, it wasn’t just the first reviews – critics tore this movie apart, with one review from James Berardinelli reading that, “if you're in search for a way to ogle Megan Fox's body, there are a lot better ways to do it than subjecting yourself to this”. Art is subjective and anyone can interpret it how they see fit but reading the reviews after watching several interviews of Cody and Fox discussing the movie and what it meant to them at the time, I couldn’t help but to think that a lot of them just… didn’t get it. A majority of the reviewers seemed to be older males that I would put money down were white and straight.

To put it succinctly, the movie wasn’t for them. Diablo Cody talked in an interview about how the movie became a metaphor for her own experience in Hollywood. Diablo Cody is not her real name; it was a screenname that she took on because it sounded less feminine than “Brook Busey”. She talks at length in the interview about how Needy started to represent her (the real, genuine her, who was allowed to be soft and transparent) and Jennifer represented what she had to be for Hollywood, cutthroat and dark and seeking vengeance.

Megan Fox responded positively to Cody sharing this, adding on her own experiences and elaborating on why Jennifer meant so much to her and why she didn’t hesitate to take the role, saying that when it came to how Hollywood treated her “objectified is like... it’s not the right word, it doesn’t capture what was happening to me at the time, […] you deserve it because of how you talk, because of how you look, because of how you dress, because of the jokes you make”. Cody even talked of how she’d made note of Megan’s experience with Hollywood and sought her out for the role; she said she didn’t know what she would’ve done if Fox hadn’t taken the role, as she can’t imagine anybody else having played Jennifer.

Most people that were raised and socialized as girls (including trans men, especially those who did not realize they were trans until later in life) can relate to these sentiments. Of having to present yourself duplicitously in every aspect of your life, just to be taken seriously. Of being reduced to your body, to how you use your body, to how you carry yourself, even in casual settings. Of being blamed for the way other people treat you because you “deserve it” for the way you talk, the way you behave, the way you look, the gender you were assigned at birth. To quote a saying that Cody herself brought up, “the only difference between a flower and a weed is a judgement”. The judgement was made in 2009 when the movie released that it was a bad movie. The judgement is being constantly reassessed by pop culture and now seems to be changing as young girls are able to revive the movie and feed their own meaning into it.

[ouronlyangelhes]

CHAMPAGNE PROBLEMS

You had wanted to say yes. The ring was beautiful, dainty, sparkling, and staring daggers into your soul. It wasn’t that Scott wasn’t the right guy, he was. He was kind hearted, a great listener, funny, charismatic, everything that you thought you wanted. He was the right guy for someone, but that someone wasn’t you.

You were so taken aback by the proposal you realized second if not minutes had gone by without you saying a word. His face began to redden even more than it already was. You had to say something, you couldn’t just run away from this. You had to work up the courage to say no. You had to. He worked up the courage to pick out a ring for you, get down on one knee and ask you, you owed to him to explain why you couldn’t say yes.

“I love you, I really do. I just can’t say yes.” You say with tears building in your eyes.

“Did I say something wrong? Do you not like the ring? I can get you another one?” He said trying to understand.

“It’s not anything you did. It’s not the ring either it’s beautiful. I just can’t say yes to you because I know I’m not the one for you. You have been the most incredible person to me and you don’t deserve this. But you also don’t deserve someone saying yes to say yes. You deserve someone who won’t hesitate or think twice when you ask them to marry you. And I feel horrible because I know in my heart that person isn’t me. I’m sorry.” You said trying to smooth it over as if you could possibly do anything to make it better.

“I’m sorry that you feel like this. God, this sucks so much.” He said with tears in he eyes.

“I know, I never meant to hurt you. I’m sorry.”

-

It had been 5 months since you declined that proposal. There wasn’t a day that went by where you didn’t think about it. You had wanted to. the person to say yes, you really did. You just knew in your heart that it wasn’t right. Scott deserved the world. That was one thing you were 100% sure of. He deserved someone who would always say yes, someone who would always be there for him, someone who he could have his forever with. You wanted that for him more than anything and you knew you couldn’t bring yourself to say yes and it be wrong . You couldn’t imagine the pain and the hurt that he was going through. You wanted to reach out to him but you knew that maybe some space would be the best. There wasn’t anything that you could say or do to possibly comfort him. So you decided that creating some distance between the two of you was best.

-

Harry had been your best friend for as long as you could remember. Harry has always been your rock, especially the last several months. You had been all over the place emotionally and you were slowly trying to pick the pieces back up. Harry had really been there for you and you were beyond grateful.

“You wanna come over tonight and have a rom com marathon? Snack, drinks, the whole works?” Harry asked you from the other end of the phone.

“Yeah, that sounds nice. I’m in. But only if we can get some pizza.” You replied.

“You’ve got yourself a deal. How does 7 work?” He asked.

“Sounds good. See you then.” you said and hung up.

Harry had a way of somehow making everything better. His presence could make anyone light up. And that was something you cherished, especially at this point in your life.

-

“I thought you’d never show up.” He said with an attitude as he opened the door.

“I’m like 2 minutes late, calm down.” You said as you pushed past him in the doorway.

“I’m just messing. Glad you’re here.” He said with a smile.

“I ordered the pizza about 15 minutes ago so it should be here in 30 minutes or so. And don’t worry I got your favorite so don’t panic.” He said.

He knew you well and that was something you admired.

“Thank you. So whatcha wanna watch?” You asked as you made yourself comfortable on the couch.

“Hmmm. Well we have a ton of rom coms to choose from so just take your pick.” He said as he got the popcorn out of the microwave.

“Popcorn and Pizza what a luxury we have here.” You said with a smile.

“Only the finest of dining here.” He said as he brought the bowl over to you.

“Okay, so i’m thinking either Love Actually or Pretty Woman. Thoughts?” You asked.

“Tough one. Love Actually is always my go to so you know how I stand on that one.” He said.

“Love Actually it is.” You said as you clicked on the title.

The movie had just started and you felt Harry’s eyes on you.

“What?” You said as you pulled the bowl of popcorn closer to you.

“Nothing.” He said.

You had known Harry long enough to tell when he was lying. And besides he wasn’t a very good liar anyways.

“No, tell me. What? You said as you pressed pause on the movie.

“I don’t know, I guess i’m just surprised you’re so eager to watch a rom com.” He said.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” You said.

“I dunno, I mean you did turn down a proposal from a guy you had been seeing for 2 years so I just figured you fight me on the rom com and we’d end up with a comedy or something.” He said.

“I don’t understand where this is coming from. I’m the one that said no to the proposal. I’m not the one who got rejected. I was the one who made the choice for our relationship to not result in marriage. So, why do you think I can’t enjoy a movie?” You asked.

You were thrown off by Harry’s line of questioning.

“You can enjoy a movie. That’s not how I meant it. I just worry about you is all. I just wanted to make sure you’re ok.” He said.

“Then why didn’t you just ask? Why’d you have to make it so cryptic?” You asked.

“You’re right. I should’ve just asked. I’m sorry. We can get back to the movie if you want.” He said.

“Okay, yeah.” You said as you resumed the movie.

-

To be honest your attention wasn’t on the movie. You were so confused by what Harry meant. Sure, the last couple months hadn’t been a breeze but you were pushing through. You knew you had made the right choice regarding your engagement. You couldn’t understand why people couldn’t just forget and move on like you had.

Harry had gotten up and paid for the pizza and grabbed some wine glasses on his way back over to the couch.

“There you are.” He said as he passed you a glass and plate.

“Thanks.” You said.

You poured the wine into the glass and then you realized that maybe Harry was onto something earlier. Did he have a reason to be worried about you? Was there a reason you couldn’t say yes to a good man? What was holding you back?

“I’m sorry for snapping at you earlier. I know you are and you’re just trying to help.” You said as you took a sip.

“It’s alright. I shouldn’t have said anything.” He said.

“No, you’re right. You did nothing wrong. I know what people have been saying. I know that Scott’s friends never thought i’d say yes to marrying him. I don’t know, i didn’t think I radiated runaway bride or in this case runaway proposal tendencies but I guess I do.” You said.

“Stop it. You’re gonna end up married and all that one day. He just wasn’t right for you.” He replied.

“But what if I can’t. What if I just can’t get there with someone. I try to open up and be vulnerable and every time I do it’s just like I close up. Scott was patient with me and he never pushed feelings out of me or anything, he knew what he was getting into. I’m just starting to think it’s me. Maybe I am just incapable of letting someone love me and giving that love in return.” You said.

“You’re not incapable. You love lots of people. You love so much and we’re all lucky to have someone like you in our lives.” He said trying to comfort you.

“Family love is different than romantic love. The love I have for my friends is different. It’s safer, It’s less scary to me. It’s easier.” You said.

“Well maybe that’s the issue. Maybe you need to view someone as a friend first, and then it would turn into romantic love. Because you’d then have a foundation of friendship with that person and a level of comfort and security.” He said.

Harry was always a deep thinker. His advice was always comforting to you as he always has something profound to say.

“I guess that’s a good point. I don’t think i’ve ever really thought about it like that before.” You said.

“What can I say, I’m quite wise.” He said with a smile.

“I guess there’s really ever been one person I could see myself having romantic love and make me feel secure.” You said.

“Well, who?” He asked.

“You.” You said.

You thought Harry was gonna choke on his pizza you had stunned him so much.

“Sorry what?” He said taking a sip of wine to wash the pizza down with.

“When you say someone I feel safe, comfortable, and myself with that’s you. Nobody else has ever really made me feel that way. Maybe it’s because we’ve known each other an eternity but I’d like to think it wouldn’t take an eternity for my walls to come down.” You said.

“What are you saying exactly?” He asked.

“I’m saying, I don’t know.” You said t trying to piece your thoughts together.

“You know I care for you, I always have. I just never really thought you’d go for me so I guess I never tried. And anytime i’ve ever thought of it the timing was just all off.” He said.

“What about now? Is the timing right?” You asked.

“I’m not sure. We can find out if you want. If that’s not weird.” He said.

“Sure, it’s not weird. You know me better than I know myself. You see me I am. I’m never hiding anything from you, you see me.” You said.

“Of course I see you. I’d be blind not to.” He said to you.

“Can I kiss you?” Harry asked.

“I mean I guess.” You said playfully.

With the meeting of your lips you felt all of your metaphorical walls coming down. You trusted Harry, you felt safe. Not to say you didn’t feel that way with Scott or other relationships. This one just felt authentic, genuine, and right.

[rodeoxqueen]

Stuck Thinking About You-Dante/Reader

TheLastCrusader Requested: Dante or Vergil gets immobilized in some embarrassing or inconvenient way during a job and then (Y/N) pays them company until they can be freed. How about they have a crush on (Y/N) and they don't know it is returned until the end?

Vergil’s Part: Coming Soon. 

Read it on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28187496

Warnings: Fluff, Romantic Comedy, Taking Care of The Twins, Vulnerability, Breaking the Fourth Wall, Characters Call Out The Writer for Her Lazy Writing

Dante was the Legendary Devil Hunter, a tried and true hunter with the might of hundreds of men. And here he was, paralyzed by a venomous demon. During a hunt, it had a lucky shot and hit him with a dart. It would have killed a normal man three times over, causing the victim to lose muscle function and die. Since Dante was not a normal man, his body would metabolize the poison in due time. It’s just too bad he was stuck in his current form, arms to his side and stiff. He was lucky to be able to talk anyway. 

Nero had laughed at his predicament and dragged him back to the van by the boots, throwing him onto the spare seat like a sack of potatoes. His brother had smugly walked alongside his son, entertained by how Dante complained about his now immobilized situation. 

“Laugh it up. When I can move again, I’ll be kicking your asses.” Dante threatened, face down on the cushion with his sword strapped to his back. He sounded muffled and Nero laughed at him again. 

“Wait until (Y/N) found out you got shot in the butt by a demon.” Nero jeered. Dante groaned. 

Oh God forbid you found out, his crush. The gorgeous and funny (Y/N). He’d be a laughingstock. 

You had been working on the Devil May Cry paperwork when the red devil was carried in looking like a cardboard cut out of himself. The red devil was incredibly displeased and had a sour look on his face. 

Nero and Vergil dropped him onto a couch, dusting themselves off and high-fiving. 

“What happened to Dante?” You ask, seeing how Dante was unnaturally still. 

“My brother was unluckily poisoned. The toxins shall wear off soon, although he will be stuck like this for the meanwhile.” 

You see Dante attempt to move with his grunts and groans, yet to no avail. 

“Yeah, he’s gonna have to wait for it to wear off. You should’ve seen him, he gets jabbed and he just drops like a dead body!” Nero wiped a tear of laughter off his face. 

“Anyways, I gotta go back to Fortuna. Call me when he’s back to normal.” Vergil nodded as his son left the door. 

He turned his gaze to you. 

“I am going to retire to my room. Please let me know when he can move again.” He said as he exited the first floor. 

You put your hands on your hips seeing the devil still face down on the couch. 

“Um..Dante?” 

“Yeah?” He said, slightly muted by the cushion. 

“Are you alright?” 

“Can’t move. Stuck.” 

“..Do you want some help?” 

“Nah, I’m alright.” 

“Well, are you sure?” 

“Yeah, don’t worry about me. I’m fine.” 

There was a pause. You could hear Dante trying to breathe with the leather of the couch right up on his nose. 

“Would you like to be face up?” 

Dante stopped for a moment. 

“Yes.” You grinned, getting up from your seat to help out the red devil. Rolling up the sleeves of your sweater, you began by pulling on his side at the innermost of the sofa. You grunted as you put all your might on him. 

He was literally built like a brick house, and he sure as hell weighed like one. You broke a sweat getting him to be perpendicular to the couch before gravity helped out and you tipped him over. He fell back on the couch with a resounding thump. 

“Thanks (Y/N).” He flashed his charming grin, a bit of a struggle as his face muscles were slightly numb.  

You smiled at him. You saw how his veins were slightly darker, and he was quite pale. His body must be working overtime to detox itself. 

“Do you want anything while you’re trapped like this?” He made an effort to try to shrug. 

“I’m good.” Dante was not good. He was freaking out. You were used to touching him, punching him when he said a joke too cheesy, and those grazing touches he’d freak out internally over. You had such nice hands. His side where you pulled him up had tingled. 

You made your way back to the desk, Dante’s eyes on your rear. 

You went back to work, typing up reports, and examining payments from clients. Music played from your headphones, leaving Dante in silence. 

The sounds of you typing, scratching down notes on a notebook, and humming lull him to sleep. Maybe when he wakes up, he’ll be up and running again. 

You were half an hour into your work when you heard snores. Looking up, you see that the younger Sparda twin was fast asleep, probably sleeping off the toxins. An endeared smile crept up your face, seeing how at peace he was. 

Dante was an attractive guy, he was nice and funny. He seemed to always want to hang out with you and make you laugh. What a nice half-demon who was your boss. 

The veins around his neck seemed to pulse, forcing the blood to withdraw the demonic toxins within it. 

You admired the white-haired male, before going back to the papers. 

Dante woke up a few hours later. 

He tried to stretch, only to find his limbs were still stuck to his sides. 

“Ah shit.” He mumbled, yawning. His jaw popped in several places and he tried turning his head to see you. 

You answered the phone tucked by your ear as you rapidly typed out more reports. 

Once you had hung up the phone, you saw that the sleeping man had awakened. 

“Hey, Dante. You’re up. How are you feeling?” Dante sighed.

“Still can’t move.” You frowned. Even with his metabolism? 

“Aw, that sucks.” 

“Is that all my paperwork?” Dante asked, seeing the mountain of papers on the table. You slapped the yellowed papers. 

“This bad boy can fit so many missing payments.” You joked, quoting a car commercial you saw. Dante rolled his eyes. 

“Yeah, let’s all make fun of Dante.” He said. 

You went back to check a few things. Dante peered at the clock. Crap, he always forgets to fix that clock. It’s been 4 o’clock for three months now. 

Dante coughed. He hadn’t had a sip of anything for hours now and napping always made him wake up with a desert-dry throat. He also wanted to rub his eyes but once again, can’t move. 

There was a knock on the door. You grabbed your wallet and got to the door. An amazing smell hit Dante’s nose. 

You came back into his line of sight when you came back with a plastic bag

“You hungry?” You asked, opening the box of pizza you had ordered. You hummed with approval when you saw no olives. 

“Meh, not really.” 

Just when Dante wanted to be low-key, his stomach made the loudest noise. It was like a damn whale call. Mind you, he was starving after his nap. He flushed with embarrassment but tried to play it off. 

You laughed. You made your way over to Dante. 

“It’s fine, I got enough for the two of us.” Setting the pizza box on the ground, you sat next to his still paralyzed form. 

“Oh man, you totally didn’t have to-” His stomach made a louder noise at the amplified smell of baked goods. 

You laughed at his expression. 

“It’s not like I can just move and take a slice right now.” He groaned. His eyes widened when you held up a fork of sliced pizza. You absolute angel. 

“I know.” You winked. 

“Now say ah..” You teased. He smirked, opening his mouth to be fed. 

Dante felt the warm cheesy culinary creation hit his tastebuds. He reveled in the lack of olives, something he always got on his slices whenever he ordered. 

You helped yourself to your own slices between feeding Dante. 

He swallowed wrong, and coughed. He had already hid his dry throat from you, not wanting to be needy. He continued coughing like a madman. A straw hit his lip and he simply sipped it, doing whatever he could to counter his fit. 

The familiar sweetness of cola soothed him and he let out a small burp.

“My bad.” He smiled as you laughed. His eyes darted to the can of soda you put back on the floor. Holy shit. You were drinking out of that. You gave him your straw. You were cool sharing drinks with him. That was an indirect kiss. Dante was ready to implode. Before you could notice his shock, he quickly made a diversion. 

“Where did you order this? It’s a lot better than the place I order at.” He asked after another forkful. You shrugged. 

“It was this new place that recently opened up. It’s close where I live. Thought I’d spice things up a bit and pick a new joint.” 

“Have you been there before?” 

You shook your head no. 

“Yeah, I haven’t. This was my first time ordering there.” Maybe next time Dante could take you there. 

“Feeling bold aren’t we?” You asked smugly at his mumbled sentence. Shit. He did not mean to say that out loud. 

“Uh. Yeah. I am.” He sputtered. You chuckled at the devil’s sudden bashfulnes. 

Dante wished he knew when to shut up. This was one of the times he wished he could. 

“Yeah. I like you a lot. You’re really nice to me, you’re real good looking too. This is totally not how I wanted to ask you out but here I am. This is really awkward for me. You can totally say no. I’m not going to be mad. I’m also your boss so that might be weird-” 

“Tell you what-” You quickly gave him another piece of pizza. 

“Once you can move again, I’ll take you on that offer.” You winked. Dante almost choked again. 

“I like you too, if you haven’t noticed.” You added, looking away for a moment. 

He laughed. You angel. 

Once the slices were cleared and the drink finished, you cleaned up. Dante saw through the window a completely dark night. 

“Whoa. It’s super late. Are you sure you want to go out that late?” Dante asked, genuinely worried. 

You shrugged. 

“I mean, it’s not too bad. I don’t live that far-” 

“I can teleport you home.” Vergil called from the stairs. The older twin came down with his book in hand. 

“Oh Vergil. Nice to see you again. I saved you a couple slices of pizza.” You pointed to the box that lied on Dante’s desk. 

“No need. Although the gesture was very kind of you.” Vergil quickly took out the Yamato, slashing through dimensions.

“Well this is oddly convenient plot-wise. Totally lazy writing. The writer definitely gave up with the conclusion. This is outrageously well-timed.” You said, hands on your hips. Vergil gave you a look.

“What?” 

“What.” 

“Anyways. I’ll see you soon. Call me when you’re back to normal.” You say to Dante. He winks at you and makes a click noise with his mouth. He’d do the finger guns too but again, he can’t freaking move. 

You left promptly, waving at Dante and thanking Vergil. 

The older twin turns around to see his shameless brother. 

“So, how long were you upstairs waiting for her to leave?” 

“Too long. I’m surprised she took overtime just to take care of your sorry self.” 

“I’m the one with a hot date, Mr. I Got Laid Once.” 

His brother scowled. 

“If it were not for the fact that you are not a fair match in your current condition, I would have slaughtered you by now.” The Yamato was pointed in his direction and Dante blew a raspberry at him. 

“Whatever.” 

“I’m going to bed. You can stay on the couch, you dolt.” Vergil snipped, going back up the stairs. The lights were shut off, leaving Dante in darkness. 

Dante smirked, closing his eyes. He can’t wait to wake up tomorrow and plan out a date with you.

[wingsofanillyrian]

Lights Over Monaco: Chapter 3

Day late but here you go! Thank you to @acourtofcouture​ for beta-ing and putting up with me!

Chapter Masterlist

The six hour flight left Nesta well rested and refreshed as she checked into her hotel. She texted Jacob to check in and make sure none of his equipment had gotten lost on the flight. Having arrived a day earlier, he had been lurking around paddocks in hopes of capturing any drama on film.

He assured her everything had made it safely and informed her there were rumors flying about transmission troubles with the McLaren team. Nesta told him to keep an eye on it and unpacked her suitcase.

Nesta had just sat down when her phone rang. It was Tomas. Sighing, she decided she couldn’t avoid him forever.

“Tomas,” She answered coldly.

“About damn time you picked up the phone,” He replied, remorseless. He wasn’t earning himself any points. “What room are you in?”

She frowned. “How do you know if I’m even in Baku?”

“Doesn’t take a rocket scientist to find out flight numbers.” Interesting, he was keeping tabs on her.

“I don’t want to-”

“I said what room?”

Nesta sank back in the plush chair. Truthfully, she did want to see him, if only to determine what he had to say for himself. She couldn’t let go of the hope that somehow this was all a simple misunderstanding.

“Fourteen twelve,” She told him, instantly regretting it.

She heard him shuffling on the other end. “Five minutes.”

A knock on her door sounded a few minutes later, and she let Tomas in. “I saw the story.”

“Obviously,” Nesta scoffed, crossing her arms. Tomas reached for her but she stepped away. His eyes went bright with anger. She would not make this easy for him.

“I tried calling you.”

“I am aware.” Nesta picked at her nails to hide her trembling, trying to appear utterly nonplussed. “Did you sleep with her?”

“Yes.”

Nesta froze. Ever so slowly, her gaze slid to Tomas. Back straight, chin jutting out, staring down his nose at her. He still showed no sign of regret, nothing that would indicate he made a mistake.

“Why?” She rasped, fighting back tears. Tomas was not worth it.

He shrugged. “Because I wanted to. You and I are just fucking anyways. What does it matter?”

Nesta recoiled, blinking. “I can’t do this.” She had grossly miscalculated their entire relationship. Her palms began to sweat, her breathing increasing to a fever pitch. She pressed a hand to her chest, praying that the pressure would prevent her glass heart from shattering. Instead, it pushed the shards further into her lungs, making each breath ragged.

“Get out,” She whispered. Tomas scoffed, stepping forward.

“Nesta-”

“Out!” She repeated, more forcefully. She only needed to hold herself together for a few more seconds until he was out the door, then she could crumble.

Tomas’ face twisted. “Fine. I’ll see you at the paddock tomorrow anyway, I’m sure.”

Nesta let out a choked sob as soon as the door slammed shut. Her resolve broke, the dam inside of her punched through. Tears flowed freely down her face as she fell to her knees. She shouldn’t have loved him. 

Before they had met, she knew he was nothing but a heartbreaker. He went through women the way a drunk went through a bottle of liquor. Tomas viewed women in the same way as well; objects to be used until they were no more than empty shells and then discarded.

Nesta let the grief crash against her for a handful of minutes before she realized how useless it was. Tomas would never love her. Honestly, she wasn’t sure if he was capable of feeling such an emotion at all. There was no use letting him affect her.

Gathering her strength, Nesta stood. She looked at the sorry image in the mirror, taking in the red eyes, the mascara tracking down her cheeks, the disheveled hair. She wouldn’t let a man crush her. She had made it this far by blinding herself to the sneers and derogatory comments thrown at her. Why couldn’t she do the same to get over Tomas?

But as she climbed into bed, she realized how flawed that mentality was.

**********

Sunday’s race kept Nesta busy. Lucien and Azriel collided in lap three, causing a safety car and ultimately leading to the pair of them being unable to finish the race. Nesta had seen it on a television hanging in the Mercedes garage, the entire team letting out a collective shout when Vanserra didn’t yield to Azriel in the 90 degree turn and the Red Bull tangled with the Mercedes. Both cars were a mess of broken carbon fiber and snapped suspension bits.

Nesta managed to corner Azriel and get a few heated words out of him, a rare bit of annoyance showing through his usual calm. “Vanserra should have cut into the corner more sharply. He was way off the racing line.”

“Some people would say that you should have backed off and yielded the position to him,” Nesta added, hoping to get him worked up further. “What are your thoughts on that?”

Azriel glared at the camera, addressing anyone who dared think the incident had been his fault. “If you’re not allowed to defend, what’s racing about, then?”

Azriel turned on his heel and belined back to the garage. Jacob lowered the camera and turned to Nesta to ask, “You don’t actually believe it was Azriel’s fault, do you?”

“Of course not.” Nesta’s attention returned to the monitors and she grimaced. The racing incident had allowed Tomas to move up into first. Cassian was only a second behind, but struggling to overtake. At least she no longer had to be invested in Tomas holding his position. She couldn’t care less if he won or not.

In the end, it was Tomas taking home top points for Red Bull, Cassian bringing home 18 for Mercedes and Varian with a handful for McLaren spraying the champagne on the podium. Red Bull’s one stop strategy meant that when Cassian dipped into the pits on lap 38 for a fresh set of soft compound tires and one of the wheel nuts got stuck, Tomas was the clear winner. Cassian had no way to make up the 10 second deficit. The 25 points Tomas’ first place finish awarded him allowed him to slip past Cassian and snag the championship lead. 

And gods, was he smug about it.

Nesta told herself she didn’t care when Tomas sauntered into the press pen, his self-satisfied smile directed at her as he sat. Cassian and Varian filed in moments later, each silent as they took their seats. The room paused, Cassian’s hazel eyes flicking to where she sat front row. Everyone was waiting…. For her.

But her mind was blank. Not a single race related question surfaced. Nesta panicked, clenching a fist hard enough to feel her nails bite her palm. After a few beats of silence, the roar of the other reporters filled her head.

They had been waiting for her to ask something - anything - and she couldn’t come up with a single damned thing to say.

Jacob nudged her side. “You good?”

Nesta was too lost in the tangled web of thoughts to reply. This had all been a game to Tomas; his attitude now told her that. He had used her to gain favor with other teams and build a solid reputation with fans. After all, what better way to gain positive media attention than to have the sport’s most infamous writer in your bed?

She managed to keep her face carefully blank until the end of the conference. She didn’t say a word to Jacob as he packed up, shooting her confused glances all the while. The walls of the room pushed in on her, chest becoming tight. Standing on shaky legs, she fled down the hall, finding an abandoned alcove far from the cacophony of noise.

Chest heaving, Nesta tried to sort through her revelation. Tomas had used her. He had never intended to let this drag out. Those pictures had likely been a calculated move on his end, intended to spear her heart. Maybe breaking her had been his plan all along. He seemed to enjoy her emptiness, judging by the way he kept glancing at her during the conference. 

Her phone vibrated. Against her better judgement, she checked it. It was only Jacob, asking where she was. She only texted back to say that she was fine before gathering herself. She couldn’t just crumble in a hallway where anyone could see her.

She had just began to head towards the exit when someone jogged behind her. “Hey!”

“Not now Cassian,” Nesta said, annoyance evident. How did he always manage to find her when she wanted to be left alone? It was like he had some kind of sixth sense, focused directly on her.

“Hold on,” He said, fingers brushing her arm. The touch froze her, muscles coiling. It had only been a brief moment, but the surprise of it was enough to disarm her. “You okay? You didn’t say a word at the conference.”

Her lips peeled back in a snarl. “Why do you care?”

He did not flinch. Most would have. “Because I’m a decent person, believe it or not.” She searched his face for any sign of insincerity. She couldn’t find any; his hazel eyes held only honeyed truths.  

Nesta’s laugh was cruel, hot tears threatening to fall. “Right. Sure you are. Suddenly you feel like caring about how I feel instead of fucking with me. How about you leave me to my misery, Cassian? No need to rub it in.”

She didn’t wait for a response. Didn’t want to see the look on his face, whether it was anger or smug satisfaction, or something else entirely. 

Nesta managed to make it out and call a taxi to take her back to the hotel. She was silent the entire ride, not bothering with half-hearted small talk. Collapsing on the bed, she didn’t bother changing. She queued up a cheesy comedy film, one that was full of stupid jokes that were funny when it first came out, but not relevant in the present day.

Halfway through, Nesta grew bored and checked her phone. There was a text from an unknown number.

You okay? You never answered me.

"What the fuck," Nesta mumbled, rereading the message. How had Cassian gotten her number? 

Fine, was all she said back. She didn't know why she even bothered responding. Maybe it was because he had seemed genuinely concerned in that hallway and she felt slightly guilty for blowing him off.

I can buy you a drink if you come down to the hotel bar

Fuck off and leave me alone

Gladly.

Nesta let out a frustrated sigh and texted Jacob.

You gave him my number didn't you?

Jacob's response was only an emoji of a nervous smile.

"Little fucker," She mumbled, tossing her phone aside. She'd throttle him tomorrow on the plane. Right now, she was too hungry to send a snarky reply. If she slipped out the back, she could grab a burger without having to chance running into Cassian at the bar.

Grabbing a sweater - the desert got cold at night, she'd learned that the hard way - she made the trek down the fourteen flights of stairs, trying to piece together her life.

By the time she made it to a fast food shop, she was exhausted. She inhaled her meal in minutes, lounging in the dingy booth. She looked at her phone for what felt like the thousandth time, disappointed when there wasn’t so much as a text from Tomas.

She got up from the booth, tossed her trash in the bin and walked out. She took the long way back to the hotel, purposely winding through the streets. Why did she care if Tomas hadn’t texted her? It was her own fault that she had let herself fall for him in the first place. She knew it had been a horrible idea, and yet she had allowed herself to let him gain a place of importance in her life. They’d agreed on no feelings, and yet here she was. 

By the time she made it back to her hotel room, Nesta was exhausted. It took her three tries to fit the electronic key in the reader, and she used her full weight to shoulder the obscenely heavy door open. 

She didn’t bother with the lights, simply slipping out of her shoes and throwing her jacket in the general direction of the closet. She wanted to sleep; maybe that would reset her mind so she could feel less broken tomorrow.

“Hey-”

“Fuck!” Nesta jumped at the voice, fumbling for the lightswitch, heart in her throat. She squinted when warm light filled the room, shoulders relaxing when she saw who it was. Tomas, standing awkwardly by the desk, roses and a small box in his hands. Despite herself, hope bloomed.

“What are you doing here?” She asked, unmoving.

Setting down the bouquet, Tomas stepped forward to hand her the box. “I came to apologize. I know I missed your birthday and that I’m a shitty person. But if you open that, I think you’ll see…”

He trailed off, nodding to the present she now held. She opened the hinged black velvet, revealing a small diamond necklace. It was delicate, nothing flashy, but enough to make a statement. Nesta glanced up at him, heart warring with her head.

“Do you think showering me with pretty things will make me take you back, after what you said?”

“I think it’ll help, when paired with the fact that I-” He swallowed, trying and failing to hide his grimace. “I love you.”

Any and all sane thoughts left her head upon hearing those three precious words. Gods, she had dreamed of this moment for months. He’d only waited to tell her because it was clearly hard for him to say. But now that he’d admitted it, she could teach him how to love.

Nesta laughed, throwing her arms around his neck. “I love you too, Tomas. I always have.”

His hands rest on her back, not returning her fervor but she didn’t care. “Now will you take me back?”

The short answer was yes, absolutely. There was nothing she wanted more in the world than to wrap herself up in him and get lost. But her head knew that she needed to lay out a defense.

“Only if you promise we can make this real. If we can be together. Which means no more stunts for the cameras. I can’t keep writing about it like it’s nothing.”

Tomas tensed against her. “Fine. I can do that.”

The weight on Nesta’s chest eased. She let him lay her back on the bed, ripping at his clothes. She only let him pull away long enough for him to whisper, “I can’t stay the night.”

@aphoeni @planet-faerie  @nina-zcnik @darlinminds @linsimin @that-little-red-head @teagoddess99 @enpointe10 @electronicstrawberrystrawberry @awesomelena555 @iptneus @weesablackbeak @wonderland–memories @nessian-trash-heap @magicalwaterfall @perfectlyimpxrfect @cassians-wings @valkyrie-archeron @acourtofcouture @nesemryn @chloepereyra @toastedroastedburnt @swankii-art-teacher @illyrianshadowhunter @bakingandbooks3 @maastrash​ @candid-confetti​ @flamingveritas​ @silentquartz​ @suckmykawaiidesu​ @18moneytoad​ @frosted-crackers​ @maybekindasortaace @lysandra-tiara9 @rowaelinismyotp​ @jlinez

[neo-culture-taste]

Subscribe! - I Can’t Stop Kissing You

Pairing: Jaehyun x Reader (fem)

Genre: AU, romance, comedy, fluff

Word count: 2981

Summary: A YouTube inspired drabble series where you and your boyfriend upload videos catering to the couple tag.

Author’s Note: Inspiration finally struck! Please enjoy, lemme me know what you think, and please pass some motivation along so we can get these other fics out, lol. Yours truly, C.

For other members, see masterlist.

"Hi everyone!" you whispered excitedly at the camera. "And welcome back to my channel! I have to whisper because Jaehyun is downstairs and I don’t want him to hear my intro," you explained before turning the camera around and pointing it down your staircase towards your living room. Your boyfriend was facing away from you on the couch and you zoomed in on the back of his luscious head of hair before you tiptoed back into your bedroom. "Anyway," you continued to whisper, "today is a special day! Why is it special you may ask? Well it’s because I'm going to be doing yet another--," you paused for dramatic effect and took a moment to bring your face close to the lens so your lips took up most of the frame, "--PRANK.” You pulled away from the camera and shook your head in offense at how much that last word hurt while whispering. “Hold on. Let me move again.”

You moved to sit on the floor inside your closet. But it wasn't that big, so you ended up trapped in a corner with some of the clothes you had hanging up dangling in your face. “So many of you have requested that I do the 'I can’t stop kissing you prank' and I figured now would be the perfect opportunity since Jaehyun has come to visit me for the weekend.” A sound bite of applause and cheers played as clapping hands emojis appeared on the screen with a burst of confetti. “I’ve already set up the camera downstairs and it’s currently recording Jaehyun playing Mario Kart. His favorite game these days. Well, his only favorite game because that’s all he ever plays.” You rolled your eyes dramatically with the matching emoji appearing next to your head. “And we have a special treat! You remember our close friend Yuta from my vlogs, right?” Just then the thirst-trappiest picture of Yuta you could find on his Instagram popped up in the corner of the screen. “Well, he’ll be calling during the middle of the prank to ask Jaehyun something complicated whilst I slobber him down.” You rapidly flicked your tongue between your lips as if you were a lizard and accentuated the sound it made. “It’s going to be great!” In your excitement you raised up your arm and accidentally hit the stack of shoe boxes next to you, causing one of them to come tumbling down with a loud thump on your head and then one on the floor. “Shit, ow!” you cursed under your breath.

“Babe?” Your boyfriend called to you from downstairs. The audio of his voice was low, therefore subtitles were placed onto the screen whenever he spoke. “Is that you?”

“Yeah!” you answered him while making a nervous face at the camera. “I’m just changing clothes!”

“Oh, okay--MOVE PEACH!”

You rolled your eyes again and exaggerated the deep breath you took before addressing the audience one last time. “Let’s start this prank before he comes up here to check on me.”

With an old school static transition, the video cut to a front view of Jaehyun sitting on the couch with you descending the staircase in the distance behind him before coming into full view of the camera. You sat down on the couch next to Jaehyun and wrapped your arms around his neck, startling both him and your puppy who was laying between you, and who seemed to forget your existence whenever Jaehyun visited. 

“Oh, hey babe. How was your nap?” he said, pausing the game to fully greet you.

“It was alright. I woke up because you weren’t lying next to me anymore.” Ew! How were you able to say that with a straight face?! It had always amazed you how sappy you got when the two of you were together. You forced a pout onto your lips before hugging his upper body and moving your face to the crook of his neck to plant a soft kiss onto his exposed collarbone. He smelled like peppermint mixed with his unique man musk. 

“I almost woke you up,” he said as he let you kiss your way up from the base of his neck to just below his ear. 

“Oh, really. Why?” you said against his skin before nipping at the bottom of his earlobe.

“Because I missed having you next to me, too.”

You jerked your head back to look at him in mock disgust. “Jaehyun, you’re so freaking cheesy,” you said then went back to his neck and placed a loud wet kiss against his Adam's apple. “I appreciate the sentiment, but it just sounds so icky coming from you.” It was one thing when you did it, but when he did it it made your insides all gooey and gross. You hated that you loved it.

“But it's true.” He grabbed your chin with his thumb and forefinger and tilted your head backwards, allowing himself easy access to your lips. He gently pecked your lips and you revelled in the soft plumpness of his moisturized skin cells. He moved his hand to grab the side of your face to steady you as he deepened the kiss and his tongue swept across your lips, asking for permission to enter. But as soon as your tongues connected, your dog whined and climbed onto Jaehyun's lap, feeling left out from the attention, and thus breaking yours. 

Now that you had planted the initial kissing seed, it was time to move into phase two of your prank. “Do you want a snack, babe?” you asked him and stood up from the couch.

“Sure. Surprise me.”

Having previously set up the camera, the video cut to you walking into the kitchen, then to you opening the freezer, and then to you popping a plate of pizza rolls into the microwave. While they were heating, you walked over to the camera and pulled out your phone to send a quick text to Yuta telling him to commence the next part of your plan. When finished, you held up your phone to the camera and showed the exchange between you and your friend.

You: It’s your time to shine. 15 minutes.

Sir Yuta: I forgot I had to do this. Umm lemme search the internet and find something to call him about lmaooo

You: 🤦‍♀️

The video cut again to you placing the plate of pizza rolls and two bottled waters on the coffee table in front of Jaehyun right when he let out a shout of victory as his Metal Mario crossed the finish line in first place. 

“What cup was that?” you asked him, pretending to be interested.

“Flower cup, 200cc,” he said as he reached for a pizza roll without looking and ended up burning his finger on the hot snack. “Ow! It’s hot!”

“You knew that before you picked it up!”

Affronted by the pizza rolls, he grabbed one of the bottles of water and took a sip before returning his eyes to the screen. “Do you want to play?”

“Nope. I’ll just watch you play.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yep!”

You watched him customize his kart with some of the new items he had just unlocked before he selected a different cup to play. When the opening sequence of the first race began to play, you repositioned yourself on your knees on the couch cushion next to him and planted a kiss directly on his lips. You felt Jaehyun hum against your lips in satisfaction as he returned the kiss, but when he heard the countdown for the start of the race he quickly pulled back and moved his head to look around you at the TV.

But of course, that didn’t stop you. You forcefully grabbed him by his head and began kissing the spot just below his jaw that you knew drove him crazy. It was a relentless onslaught of teeth, tongue, and lips all at a slow, teasing, and torturous pace.

Believing that Jaehyun was already feeling totally affected, it was confirmed by the absence of noisy cartoon chaos from the race right before Jaehyun ripped you from his neck to counter your attack by shoving his tongue down your throat. The kiss was so heated the two of you had to be censored on the screen by a big blushing emoji. The video quickly cut to the end of the kiss, which lasted way longer than you had anticipated, to where Jaehyun was gently pushing you away from him. “Lemme finish this race and then we can make out or whatever afterwards.”

“Okay,” you agreed happily then popped a (now cold) pizza roll into your mouth.

You allowed him to play through a full race before you resumed your kisses, this time foregoing his neck to smooch him on his cheeks, nose, and anywhere else there was skin available on his face. You obviously prevented Jaehyun from seeing the TV screen and he quickly paused his game before he lost his first-place spot at the beginning of the second race. 

“Did you dream about me?” he asked you dumbfounded but still bearing a smile on his face. “Did I promise you all these kisses in the dream?”

You planted a kiss on each of his eyelids before shaking your head and looking him in his eyes. “I just love you.”

“I love you, too. But--”

You didn’t let him finish talking as you threw your leg over his lap to straddle his waist. You proceeded to kiss him hungrily on his lips, your tongues doing a dance once again as he kissed you back with gusto. You were overcome with a sense of satisfaction when you felt the thud of the pro controller hit the couch next to you (in which the video zoomed in on it as it was falling) and then both his arms wrapped around your waist. 

You revelled in his kisses, thankful that you had a boyfriend with soft, pillowy lips whose kisses you could get lost in for days if allowed. You were so into the makeout session that you forgot you were filming a video and the scene had to be censored once again with another big emoji and quickly cut to the next clip. Luckily, before the two of you got too crazy, Jaehyun’s phone began to ring with Yuta’s name lighting up the top of its screen.

“Noo, baby. Don’t answer it. Kiss me instead,” you genuinely whined for him to keep going. Yuta was a part of your plan but now you just wanted his attention to remain on you. 

Jaehyun removed your hand from his face and picked up his phone off the arm of the couch. “Hold on. It’s Yuta. Let me get rid of him, first.” You pouted at him as he swiped his thumb across the screen to answer the call. “Hey Yuta. I’m kind of in the middle—" You don’t know what was said exactly but you were able to hear Yuta’s tiny hysterics through the small phone speaker. “Wait slow down? When did you get a hamster?” asked Jaehyun in confused concern.

Was that really the best Yuta could come up with???

“Y/N is here, too. Let me put you on speaker.” He did so and held the phone next to your heads. “Okay, start from the beginning.”

Since Yuta’s story was bound to be dumb, you decided to up the hotness on your kissing. You grabbed Jaehyun's face with one hand and planted a kiss on his lips slightly less aggressively than the ones prior, but still pretty roughly.

Yuta’s words appeared as subtitles at the bottom of the screen since the camera’s mic couldn’t pick up his voice that well from the phone’s speaker. “I purchased a hamster the other day from the pet store down the street from my house. His name is Hamster--“ 

“Ow!” Jaehyun pulled you from his lips and gave you a displeased look. You had accidentally bitten his lips a bit too hard as a reaction to Yuta’s dumbass statement. You mouthed an apology to him before returning to nibble on his ear.

“Is everything okay?” asked Yuta.

“Yeah, keep going.” 

“Gladly.” You replied before sticking your tongue in his ear, causing him to flinch violently away from you in protest.

“Ew! Not you!” Jaehyun whispered harshly as he tried to wipe the inside of his ear with his shirt.

“Well, I was cleaning out his cage, but I think I forgot to secure him in his temporary cage and now he’s disappeared! I’m afraid to walk anywhere, so I need you to come over and help me find Hamster.”

“Umm, can’t you call Johnny or Taeyong or--” You started playing kiss tic tac toe with Jaehyun’s forehead.

“They didn’t answer their phones. Trust me you weren’t my first choice,” Yuta said flatly as if he was actually disappointed that he had to call Jaehyun for help.

You couldn’t help but laugh, and now you were trying to locate another PG-rated place to kiss Jaehyun.

“Yeah, I’ll come over.”

“Cool. Y/N can come too after she stops trying to suck your face. Y’all are gross.”

Jaehyun’s brows knit together in confusion. “How did you--” he began to ask, but you snatched his phone from his hand before he could finish his question.

“BYE, YUTA.” You hung up the call and tossed your boyfriend’s phone on the other side of the couch. “Now, where were we?” You leaned in to continue kissing him, but he dodged your lips by turning his face away from you. Your kiss landed on the side of his jaw instead.

“Hey, cool it, babe. Lemme finish this race and we can go to Yuta’s to help him find his hamster.” Obviously, Yuta’s lost (made up) pet wasn’t more important than finishing first place in the special cup on 200cc. He was just so competitive.

You grabbed his arms to thwart his attempts at resuming the game but he was quicker as he threw the controller down his shirt before grabbing your legs and gently tossing you on the other side of the couch. 

“Jaehyun!”

“Y/N!”

You turned your head and the video zoomed in on your eyes as you narrowed them at the camera before launching yet another kissing attack on Jaehyun. In doing so you knocked over two of the pizza rolls and the bottled waters while Metal Mario got hit with three red koopa shells in row.

“Babe, alright! Enough!”

Jaehyun never was one to get this perturbed, so seeing his distress was something new for you. He grabbed you by your thighs before standing up and hoisting you over his shoulders. “Let me give you what you want.”

“Wait no! Jae, stop! STOP! It’s a prank!” you yelled as you flailed helplessly in his grip.

“You can’t back out now--“

“No! Look behind the switch!”

“What?” He turned around completely to walk towards the camera, your butt now on full view as your front side faced the couch. He found the camera hidden behind the game console and picked it up while he lowered you back to your feet. He stared blankly into the lens as he tried to comprehend what had just happened between the two of you.

You swiped the camera from his hands and smiled triumphantly into the lens. “Hey, again everyone! I hope you enjoyed seeing Jaehyun lose his cool and literally THROW ME.”

Your boyfriend stood behind you, still void of emotion and staring into the camera. “You kissed me for a prank? And not because you wanted to?” Aw, no! Why did he sound so dejected?!

“Wait, no! I wanted to but...yeah?”

“I’m hurt.” He said while clutching his chest. Nooooooooo! A bunch of crying faced and heartbroken emojis appear sporadically on the screen.

“Why are you hurt? I was being annoying!”

“Yeah, but I was still into it.”

“We can continue what I started if you want to, babe.” Holding the camera with one hand, you reached out to him with the other to give him a one-armed hug, in which he returned unconsciously.

“No. I’m over it. Let’s go help Yuta.” You smiled at him mischievously and then looked back at the camera. “What?”

“That was part of the prank, too. Yuta was in on it. He doesn’t have a hamster.”

Jaehyun looked at the camera, then at you, and then back at the camera before walking away from you and sitting back on the couch. “I’ve been tricked,” he said absolutely flabbergasted.

You followed him to the couch with the camera and sat beside him, then linked your free arm with his. “Well, that’s it for today! Thanks for watching! I’m going to reheat our pizza rolls now and then I’ll kick his ass in Mario Kart.”

“You wish.”

“Give me a kiss, babe.” You puckered your lips for him, but Jaehyun had other plans of the revenge variety. He cornered you on the couch and put his big body on top of you as he placed sloppy wet kisses along your neck, causing you to shriek and drop the camera to the floor. The only thing visible on the screen was a slanted view of your puppy ripping apart one of his plush toys underneath the couch.

You giggled and squealed as your boyfriend prevented you from closing out your video in one of the most pleasant ways. You knew he didn’t plan on letting up on you anytime soon, so you had to manage. “Don’t forget to like and subscribe, and follow us on social media,” you began yelling from the top of the couch. “I put out a new video every week--Ah! Jae, wait!”

The scene cut out with another static transition and the video ended with the ‘no signal’ color bars accompanied by the notorious elongated beep.

- C