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missyourflight · 1 year ago

Note

Directors commentary on the opening scene of tender is my heart please!! ❤️

ty keypad! ❤️

Max drives into town with some people from the cottages, squashed into the back middle seat; Helen thinks she saw a possible for Laura B. in one of the shops. A bit of clone worldbuilding stuff right up top - I do worry sometimes in AUs about just throwing people in the deep end and not explaining stuff enough but in this case my excuse is that the NLMG book does basically the same thing (apologies 2 kazuo for the happy ending etc). Anyway the cottages! Just initials bc clones don't get last names 😭

He doesn’t care much one way or the other about finding someone’s model, ah, the joys of Max POV, and also more clone lore but there’s nothing to do at the cottages besides walk in the woods, peel the vegetables for dinner, scratch at the personal essays they’re all supposed to be writing. The town is by the sea, and Max has never seen the sea. 🌊🌊🌊 5/12 of my f1 fics on AO3 end with them near water/running away to sea etc... what you might call a Tell

They pile out of the car, Alex carefully feeding coins into the parking box. I like "parking box" bc the phrasing is just off enough Max takes a deep breath in, catching something salty on the air. There are birds overhead, their squawking sounds different to the ones in the woods near the cottages.

They make their way into the town, and the deeper they go, the less Max wants to find the possible. He hates the idea of it, suddenly, the group of them pressed up against some shop window, scanning faces trying to find a version of Laura’s.

“I’ll come and meet you later,” he says, catching Alex by the elbow, not wanting to be there for the scene. The others are already marching ahead and Alex doesn’t make a big deal about it, just tells him, “Back at the car at four, okay.”

Max retraces his steps, following the salt smell past where they parked the car until finally he can see the sea in front of him, rolling grey into the distance, spindly-looking pier stretching out. It’s not like the pictures he’s seen: when Em @powerful-owl read this she called it pattern matching, which I hadn't thought about but hurts my feelings 😭 I love clone Max 😭 less blue; the water less clear. Still, he likes it, the way he can’t see the end of it. Horizon feeling stuff comes back later in the first sex scene but like: the endlessness of the water/the immensity of his feelings for Daniel etc

He follows the road curving along the seafront, past the little shops. They’re mostly boring-looking bookshops, stalls selling sticks of rock and candy floss classic seaside items. There’s one with a jumble of things in the window that remind him of the Sales at Hailsham – a model car painted red, pencils with little animal-shaped rubbers on the end, a tub of marbles. Max stops to look, just for a minute, putting his hood up as it starts to rain.

The pavement turns into the planks of the pier, leading Max from the land out over the water, the sound of his steps suddenly different, the noise of the cars falling away behind him. I love piers; my hometown has a pier. I like the world literally changing underfoot here for him bc something big's about to happen; threshold stuff etc

The cafe sits at the end of the pier. I did just picture the NLMG pier from the film throughout - I cheated a bit bc the cafe from the film is not on the pier but I love piers It’s made of glass, like a greenhouse. Max startles at the jangling sound of the bell as he pushes the door open. At Hailsham they’d just practised in a classroom with a few desks moved about; there hadn’t been the smells, or other people sitting at the tables, or music playing. Like the NLMG clone worldbuilding stuff is So sad and I think the roleplay stuff is from the film rather than the book? But it breaks my heart. He's never been in a cafe! In many ways a story about firsts and being in the world for the first time etc

He stands there for a moment, blank. Does he just sit down?

“Be with you in a sec,” says the man behind the counter, looking over at Max with an easy smile. “Go ahead and grab a seat.” I hate the part of the story where we all have to pretend we don't know who Daniel is lol

The glass walls make it seem like the whole cafe is made of windows. Max sits where he can see the water, far beneath him, the little white peaks of the waves. He cranes his neck trying to see in the other direction, the sea stretching away. I do like the image of the glass box of the cafe glittering away at the end of the pier - it's kind of magical and this little box for them to fall in love inside but also it's made of windows - ultimately they can't hide there forever

“What can I get you?”

“Oh,” Max says, hurriedly unfolding the menu. “Sorry, I haven’t –”

“No worries,” the waiter says, using his pen to poke his hair back behind his ear. Max notices his little hoop earring on that side. He has the longest hair of any man Max has seen in person, messy-looking curls around his face. At least half the reason I wrote this story was to write Daniel as a 90s dreamboat lol - like part Home and Away boyfriend part AJ's cardigans from Empire Records At Hailsham they were never allowed to grow it out like that; Max still keeps his short, like most of them at the cottages, out of habit and because it’s easier. More Hailsham stuff which just sort of drip-feeds through the story until the ~clone reveal, but like, you get that it was like controlling, isolated - and it's not really pushed in these early scenes but it is also the only place Max has known and like part of his identity. It's sort of similar to the Roman Holiday AU or the Below Deck AU bc I can only write one story - like royalty and the yacht and being a donor are all things that the story ultimately wants to break him out of and also basically a horribly obvious stand-in for like the relationship with the team/his d*d. It means he doesn’t have anything to do with his hands now, though; he wipes them on the corduroy of his trousers. I picture clone Max exclusively in Andrew Garfield's little outfits from the film

“Something to drink, maybe?”

The waiter’s voice is strange, too; he doesn’t sound like anyone Max has met before. He sounds like the people on the soaps they watch in the cottages before supper, people arguing on sandy beaches, wearing shorts and t-shirts like they never get cold. Everyone on the soaps is beautiful and the waiter is too, very handsome. The little thread of Max constantly comparing Daniel to Home and Away/Australian soaps... idk if it's too much or I leaned too hard on the nineties nostalgia stuff, oh well

He’s still standing there, waiting for Max to stop staring and order. Max blinks down at the menu, picks the first thing he recognises.

“A coke?” he says. “And, a plate of chips, please.”

“Coming right up,” the waiter says with a smile, and wanders off.

There’s hardly anyone in the cafe, just Max and a couple of older women together at another table, metal pot of tea between them. Metal teapots classic cafe item... I did enjoy giving Max some of my most stereotypical caff items... later he has a toasted teacake 😭

Max looks out of the window again, watching the clouds blow across the sky until the waiter comes back with his plate of chips.

“Thanks,” Max says, and picks up his fork, but the waiter puts a hand out to stop him.

“Whoa, let me grab –” He lifts a little basket off the next table and sets it in front of Max. “Condiments,” he says with a flourish. “You can’t eat naked chips, mate.” Daniel kind of harmlessly flirts with everyone because otherwise he would be so bored, he is intrigued by Max wandering in in his little outfit and staring at the clouds and having no idea what to do with himself tho

Max feels his face get hot, and he sprinkles salt and vinegar all over his chips even though he isn’t supposed to have so much salt bc of his organs 😭. The smell of the vinegar is strong and delicious, rising in a warm cloud. When he looks up, the waiter is still standing there, watching.

He raises his eyebrows. Max shrugs. “I like vinegar.” This is Soph-coded bc I put So much vinegar on my own chips

“Yeah, clearly,” the waiter says, smiling like Max said something funny.

Max gestures at the rest of the condiments. “What do you recommend?” he says, a line straight out of the class role play the only way he knows how to behave lol, and this time the waiter laughs. He leans over and picks the ketchup out of the basket, shakes the sauce straight onto Max’s plate instead of handing him the bottle. Flirty! Also very weird behaviour honestly but if I like anything I like when people are weird about each other 🤷‍♀️

“Got to go with the classic,” he says.

Max swipes one of his chips through the sauce. “It’s good,” he says. Then, looking up at the waiter, feeling bold: “Do you want some?” He's going off-script

“It’s cool, they actually pay me in chips,” the waiter says, but he takes one anyway. “Vinegar’s good,” he says with a grin.

He isn’t treating Max like a donor at all. Maybe it’s because Max is by himself; if there’s a group of them out together people always seem to be able to tell. Sometimes someone will come over and thank them, squeeze their hands; more often they just stare. It’s easier at the cottages, not having to deal with any of that. Maybe the biggest stretch in the story is that Daniel doesn't know what's up with the donor stuff but I handwave it thusly: it's not a thing in Australia, maybe it's not polite to talk about in the UK bc people would rather not acknowledge the horrible things they are doing to the clones, he's not the most politically engaged lol, also the reason he is in this tiny seaside town at the end of the pier is bc he has essentially retreated from the world

“You can sit down,” Max says. “Or, you don’t have to, if it is too busy.”

The waiter looks around the nearly-empty cafe. “Yeah, Mavis and Joan have me run off my feet.”

He sits down, and Max asks, “Aren’t you supposed to wear an apron?” Pattern matching. In the roleplay the waiter would have been wearing an apron!

“Is this like, an inspection? Are we finally getting our five stars?”

“Five stars out of five,” Max says, “for sure.” Max's love language is gift giving but it's also going along with the bit

The waiter’s still smiling at him, warm and crooked; suddenly Max can’t remember any other lines. He casts his mind over small talk, trying to find another question to ask him, make the moment stretch a little longer.

At last, the obvious: “What’s your name?”

“Daniel,” he says, and Max sticks his hand out. “Max V.”

“Max V.?” Daniel laughs at Max’s nod, and shakes his hand. “Just the initial, like Gina G? What are you, a DJ?” Oh god there's just so many nineties references 🙃

“No,” Max says. He takes his hand back, wipes it again on his trousers under the table. “What’s a DJ?”

“Oh my god. Where are you from? Is this a Third Rock From the Sun situation?” He leans across the table and peers at Max, brown eyes twinkling. “Be straight with me: are you, like, a Jehovah’s witness?”

Max reaches for the line they gave them at Hailsham, for people asking too many questions: “I’m doing a residential,” he says, adding, “We’re staying out at this old farm, we just drove in for the afternoon.”

“Oh, nice,” Daniel says, and then, “watch your chips, they’re getting cold.”

Max pushes the plate towards the middle of the table, and Daniel takes another.

Daniel sits with him for ages. Sometimes he has to get up and fetch a pot of hot water for another table, take an order, but he comes back to sit with Max again. He doesn’t seem to mind Max’s questions, about the cafe, the town, anything he can think of.

“What do you call this kind of shirt?”

It’s soft-looking, with a faded check pattern. Daniel hasn’t even done up the buttons, leaving it open over his t-shirt hot 2 me and also Max. Max wills his fingers still on the table top; he doesn’t reach out and touch.

“A flannel, I guess. It’s my lumberjack look.” Daniel shrugs modestly. I'm so bad at describing Daniel's cute lil movements but it's a very specific cute shrug I'm thinking of and also he does it in the car later before they make out “I’m a woodsman.”

“I have not seen so many trees in town,” Max says.

“Uh, yeah, because I got them already.” He mimes swinging an axe.

Max’s face hurts from smiling. “This is called a jumper,” he says, nodding down at himself, feeling warm inside when Daniel laughs. A constant etc

“Hold on,” Daniel says. “A jum– how do you spell that?” He flips to a new page on his pad, clicking his pen, and Max has to bury his head in his arms to stop his laugh bouncing off the glass. They're very silly and they like each other very much!!

When Max looks up at the clock on the wall, there’s barely five minutes before he has to meet the others.

“I have to go,” he says, standing up in a rush. He turns back at the door, remembering himself, the role play, his questions. “Can I give you some money?”

“You better,” Daniel says. “It’s kinda part of the deal, you’ll get me in trouble if you eat and run.” He is So fond already

“Sorry,” Max says, and unzips his pouch to start counting out money. Daniel shakes his head when he sees, stretching his hand out to take the coins from Max. Picturing Max with a money pouch/bumbag situation that he wears under his jumper, for Security

“Absolute Mormon. Go on, get out of here.” He flaps his hand goodbye as he leans on the counter, smiling creases at Max. The Mormon thing... idk how well it works but it's like Daniel's excuse to not ask questions about Max's very obviously weird situation. Also "smiling creases" is weird but it's So hard to find different ways to describe smiling and grinning 🙃

“Thanks for the chips,” Max says, even though he should be turning to leave now, not still standing here smiling back at Daniel, watching the lines on his face deepen.

“Any time, Max V.,” Daniel says. “Come back soon.”

He has to jog back to the car to make it in time, his feet thudding against the wooden boards of the pier, slapping the seafront pavement as he passes the shops. The sea’s rolled in while Max has been eating chips; everything looks different. Stuff changed!! He's changed!! The clouds have parted, too, the sky clearing just in time for dusk, wet pebbles shining on the shore. The glass of the cafe is catching the sun, pulling Max’s eye back towards the end of the pier.

When he catches up with the others the mood is subdued. It hadn’t been Laura’s original after all; it never is. It’s never nice people in shops or offices, who they’re modelled on. Keira Knightley is actually so good in the NLMG film and I always think about her saying "We're modelled on trash." Clone stuff very bleak!! Probably all their originals are already dead. Max could have told them that and saved them all the trip, but then he would never have found the cafe.

Max looks out of the window all the way back to the cottages. He still feels warm, from the chips, from talking to Daniel; the glass is cool where he leans his head against it. Eddie C. takes a wrong turn somewhere and it’s dark by the time they get back, so late they’ve missed the soaps.

Max watches with everyone the next night, sitting with Charles on the floor in front of one of the couches. He thinks about saying casually, I met someone from Australia. He was so good-looking, he could be on Home and Away. Nineties dreamboat!!

If he tells them about Daniel, half the cottages will want to come back to the cafe with him, just to hear his voice and ask him questions about surfing. Carloads of them trailing down the pier, crowding in and filling up the tables. In the end Max doesn’t say anything, but he does pull Pierre aside to ask him what a DJ is. I got so carried away with the music/mixtape stuff in this story but I do think this beat is funny

On their run the next morning Alex asks him, “Where did you get to the other day, then?”

“Nowhere much. There was a cafe, I had some chips.”

“Chips!”

Alex makes a betrayed sound, and they run on through the woods, autumn leaves crunching beneath Max’s feet as he concentrates on his breaths, the steady pump of his heart. Sorry this was so long but I wanted to talk about the little running scene in the woods! There's three of these: this one where Max is just thinking about his body as something functional, his heart and his breathing; the one after they start hooking up where he's moving so easily and like leaping over logs; the one after they've broken up where he trips on a root and sits there trying not to cry. And then running together on the beach in Perth at the end 😭 One of the very limited tools in my toolbox to show the same thing a bunch of times to illustrate change lol - but also one of the main things I wanted to do with the story was show how Max's relationship to his own body changes, how sex changes the way he thinks about his body and its uses, how love changes the way he thinks about donations etc 🫀

#commentary #nlmg au #asks

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amy-maguire · 8 months ago

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Toga.. that's me. Chapter 1 - To See his Eyes.

(Note: This chapter was written well over a year ago. I promise they get less cringe)

“Toga-des! Or.. well. Hi, I’m Toga. Toga Himiko that is, and one of the super villains working with Handyman and his crew! (Also known commonly as tomura shigaraki, and the League of Villains.) I love them so much! Well, I think I do! Dabi calls me “crazy” and all that, but that doesn’t matter to me. Because as long as I’m allowed to be me here, then that’s enough.” The girl said talking into the phone recorder, her private diary which seemed safer than a physical copy. She often recorded it and then kept it to rewatch. (Unaware of course that the league sometimes looked at the files, but that’s irrelevant.)

“Today I want to talk about Izuku-kun!!” ‘Izuku-kun’ a name that often showed up in her diary videos as someone who almost anyone would notice she was head over heels for, once watching one of the videos. “Today I snuck over and watched him train! He’s doing so good with his quirk (or you could say super-power) and he’s getting stronger by the day!” She said, twirling some strands of her hair on her finger. “He’s so cool..” She added before her face seemed to shift to something a little bit more.. cold. “The only problem is that he was with Ochako.” ‘Ochako’ the likable girl who seemed to be just a little bit too close.

Well, it was hard really to tell what too close meant, because to Toga a lot of people were close to Izuku, even if they hadn’t tried to be. It was Ochako who just seemed to be crossing that line in her mind. The line that neither Ochako or Izuku knew was even there. “Ochako is such a likable person, I want to be just like her.. Because then Izuku-kun would like me.. Well everyone would like me.” her sad comment didn’t match her normally enthusiastic personality, this was something normally she would only bring up to the diary entries.

“Ochako-chan..” She started letting the name roll out of her mouth like she didn’t like saying it for a second, with a tiny bit of spite. “Ochako-chan always gets what she wants..” She sighed and frustratedly stopped twirling her hair and went to kicking her legs instead. “So that’s why today I went to get some of her blood!” Her tone changed again, back to the happy one that seemed to always resurface around the word “blood.”

Her quirk, allowed her to take the blood of anyone she ingested, and she could turn into them for a short time. The more blood, the more time, and you can get the point. “It was actually really easy! I just had to pose as a nurse and she let me take all the samples I wanted!!” She giggled bringing about 2 vials up to the camera and spun them in her hands as her feet kicked.

“So now..!” She started staring at the blood and smiling, “I can be like her for a bit, and I can get next to him..” She trailed off that fluttery feeling in her stomach returning like it always did at the thought of either Ochako, or Izuku, or even “mr. stainy” for that matter. “I decided that after I finish filming this! I’ll go and see them!!” She set one of the vials down on her blue skirt and then took a deep breath. “Shiggy says I can’t get caught though and he doesn’t want me doing it!” She sighed annoyed, like the thought of turning into someone so you could stalk your crush wasn’t a bad idea. (granted, that wasn’t what Shigaraki was worried about.) “Soooo, guess I’ll just have to be a bit quiet about it!” She said seeming to make her voice just a tad quieter as she said the last bit of the sentence.

“I guess I got off topic a bit.” She said, nodding to herself, beginning to twirl her hair with her fingers again. “But that doesn’t matter, I’m too focused on the other important things to stay on one topic for too long.” That's when she seemed to hear something, turned her head away from the camera, and smirked. “That means it’s time for me to go!!” She smiled. “So bye byeeeeeee!!” She giggled, ending the recording and turning off the camera.

“It’s time, to go see Izuku~”

After turning off the camera she hopped off of the box she was sitting on and stretched. “Diary time is always so tiring..” She complained to herself, taking off the cardigan she was wearing and grabbing one of the vials. “I won’t drink it until I need to, I can’t waste a drop!” She said stretching again as she held the vial up. Then, she opened the door to the small cramped room that they all slept in, and walked into the main area where all the villains were gathered.

“Toga, welcome back! Ew, what are you doing here?” Twice rattled off. “I just got back from my room!” She said smiling, evidently both sides of Twice didn’t bother her. He nodded before shaking his head and then Tomura sighed. “Do you need something?”

“No need to be so rude~!” She teased, sighing as well. “I just wanted to say hi!” Tomura shook his head seemingly annoyed and Mr. Compress waved. “Well, I will have you know, I am glad to see you.” Toga smiled before remembering the time. “I have to be off somewhere!!” She giggled thinking of how easy it would be to infiltrate UA this way.

“At this time of night?” Kurogiri, also known as the warp villain, asked crossing his wispy arms. “Yesss!” She frowned, “I have something to buy from the store!” She lied, but technically that wasn’t not true. Before she intended to go to UA she wanted to buy a snack for Izuku first. I mean, everyone tries and gives their crushes gifts once in a while. Dabi gave her a weird look, “Like what? This isn’t one of your weird impulse buys is it?” He asked, rubbing the burn patches on his face. “I-” She stopped making a frustrated noise, “I just need to go out!!”

Tomura frowned, rolling his eyes, “Then go for our sake.” He said, wanting her to go leave. “Finally!” She exclaimed running for the door out of the base. “Be care-” slam. “Full..” Mr. Compress yelled as she ran out. “If she’s the reason we get caught again, I will kill her.” Dabi yawned. “It already sucked enough the last time our base got ransacked. Heh, if you’d really call this a base.” He scoffed, sighing.

Meanwhile Toga was skipping along the alleyway that ran along the side of the abandoned bar, where they were staying for the time being. Humming a happy tune she slipped her hand into her pocket and played with the vials excited. This was her chance, and she was 100% going to take it. After wondering for some time she got to the exit of the alleyway that leads into a main road. “Disguise time~” She giggled, popping off the cap from the vial and pouring the blood into her mouth. Blood tastes metallic, blood tastes like love. Blood tastes... delicious. That was the mentality anyway, and so she downed the whole thing in about five seconds. Quickly she saw her clothes, skin, and hair fading into the resemblance, the exact resemblance of Ochako Uraraka, and at the same time, she felt the quirk that the bubbly girl had. Her eyes were now that beautiful chocolate color.

She now was Ochako, and she happily waddled out of that alleyway into a nearby convenience store. “Hello!” A tired looking college student greeted her, “Can I help you find anything?” He asked and Toga nodded. “I’m looking for some chocolate!” She smiled, pressing her fingers together in the familiar position. The cashier looked over and pointed towards a certain shelf that had many different types of chocolate. “That shelf!” Toga thanked him before walking over to the shelf and seeing what her options were. She didn’t yet have to get into the persona of Ochako, she could just use the body for the moment. (However, not without any precautions) That’s when she heard another familiar voice, “Pink cheeks?” a tall blonde asked looking at her, “Since when did you hang out at an expensive place like this?” This was a corner store, and the chocolate would have ranged from ninety-nine cents to 15 dollars a piece. Bakugou didn’t really take caution in pointing out things that could be considered offensive, such as the real Ochako’s broken financial state.

“I don’t think it matters~” She chimed, not yet getting into the persona just yet. Ochako wouldn’t have responded that way and so Bakugou eyed her oddly. Once she realized she changed her personality completely, to try and reflect the original body owner’s. “I-I mean, I was just trying to get something sweet you know? I-it’s not too expensive here, no need to be rude or anything!” That was what she was supposed to sound like, nervous, bubbly, and adorable. Not.. obsessive and weird by most standards. Bakugou scoffed, “There you are idiot.” he started, “and I’m not being rude, I’m being honest.” he emphasized. Toga sighed, “Well, either way I’m going to get something.” She said oddly, grabbing what seemed to be the most expensive thing without a thought. While normally, if it was the real Ochako, she would have spent at least 15 minutes trying to compare the amount of chocolate for the price. But then again, maybe she could explain it away by saying that she was getting it for Izuku. At this point everyone had figured out that Ochako was in love, by Mina’s not so keen skill for keeping gossip secret. “Did you get a new job or something?” Bakugou asked, finding the spending choice odd, not that he really cared, but he could tell that something was weird about this. “No! I’m just getting something different this time. Something for-” Bakugou cut her off, “The nerd?”

She turned away from him and her face reddened, she didn’t have to act out a persona for this one. She was really flustered inside that body, even if the way she expressed it was different than most people. “Iz-” she cut herself off, “Deku?” Ochako didn’t ever use Izuku’s real name, she had gotten used to the hero name. The name that the boy had changed from a means of being described as useless to something that represented a strong hero. Ochako admired that, but to Toga his hero status didn’t matter. It was him that mattered, so she adopted first-name status immediately. (Note, that in Japanese culture people often refer to each other by their last names until a certain level of relationship is established. By referring to Izuku Midoriya as “Izuku” she is trying to say that she and Izuku are close.)

“Who else?” Bakugou scoffed, “he’s the only annoying nerd that I know. Unless you count four-eyes.” Toga sighed, “Well it is for him, but that doesn’t matter!” She exclaimed, starting to walk towards the counter. “So you're going to confess to him?” he said, point blank before seeming to be a little grossed out. But it’s not like he didn’t have crushes or anything like that. “Well, I-I don’t know about confessing!” She blushed, but inside she felt a bit sad. If she confessed to Izuku, as Ochako, and they theoretically did become a thing, it would be Izuku and Ochako dating. It wouldn’t be.. HER and Izuku. So, she just wanted to do small things, until maybe she could be the real her, or somehow get rid of the problem Ochako produced.

“Not like he’d understand, that nerd’s always in his head.” He pointed out as they walked up to the counter and the cashier rang up the chocolate. “$10.99” the cashier said and Toga just took out her wallet and paid. She didn’t try to bargain with the price, and when her card didn’t decline, Bakugou looked visibly shaken. “Who’s funding you??” Toga smirked, “None of your business!~” She teased again, a little bit too much like her real self. “Now I have somewhere to be, so I’ll see you!” She said before breaking off into a joyful run leaving Bakugou stunned. Stunned, but not without doubts, or a pit in his stomach. He may not have been the kindest to them but he knew his classmates. And well, this “pink cheeks” wasn’t acting right. He briefly thought about looking into it before returning to looking for what he was buying. But the weird pit in his stomach didn’t leave.

Finally, after a while she got onto the city transit and made her way to the UA campus. She had now been out for almost an hour and she had about 2-5 more with the amount of blood she drank. Of course, that all depended on how much energy she used and etc. Once she got to the UA gate she discreetly made her way towards the dorms.

The dorms were added to help attempt to keep the students safer while on school grounds, but obviously they weren’t impenetrable to attacks. So, as Toga made her way into the dorms, no one suspected a thing. The real Ochako was currently asleep and so were the majority of the class. The only people who Toga was currently positive were awake, were Bakugou, Izuku, and herself. Normally Izuku would be outside training during this time, or at least that’s what Toga had guessed. Because from the times she had stalked him, he had always been training for a good amount of time. That’s when she spotted him outside the window of the dorms and she made her way outside.

Once out there, she found him in the familiar thinking position and talking to himself, “If I can use one for all at 80% and..” Mumble mumble mumble, “So I should be able to control my quirk” mumble mumble mumble. He kept on speaking, or well mumbling to himself when Toga made her way over to him. “Hey Deku!!” She said, briefly catching herself before blurting his full name. At first he didn’t notice her as he was lost in thought, until he noticed the shape of a person and his head shot up. “Oh! Hi Uraraka! Sorry, did you need something?” He smiled and that made Toga’s heart melt down into her stomach. His smile was enough to kill someone.

“Well uhm, I got a gift for you!” She chimed reaching into the pocket of the UA coat she had stuck it in. Izuku’s face reddened a little, “What for? My birthday isn’t around now or anything. Did I miss a holiday or something?” He asked, the poor oblivious boy he was. “No silly!” Toga smiled, maybe just a little too big. “I just wanted to!” She paused before finishing the statement, “B-because that’s what heroes do ya know?” She said that outwardly to fit Uraraka. She didn’t want to give herself away, but deep inside she hated saying that. She disliked heroes, she liked Stain. She disliked heroes but she liked Izuku. She disliked heroes, but she pretended she was one for just a little bit. Just so that she could fit in.

Doing the same thing that she always had to do. What she had to do back in middle school so that her friends wouldn’t run away, or so her parents wouldn’t curse at her, or so she would stop being referred to as the “demon-child.” So being in front of Izuku, she wanted to just drop the facade and the body that wasn’t her’s, and then she wanted to say what she actually wanted to. “Hi Izuku~ It’s so nice to see you again!~ I missed you!” That’s what she would have said, that’s what she wanted to say. But she couldn’t.

{End of Chapter 1}

#anime #fiction #manga #my writing #writers #bnha #my hero academia #toga himiko #uraraka ochako #fanfic #fan fiction #wattpad writer #wattpad #ao3 #ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer #Toga.. that's me.#chapter 1 #izuku midoriya

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rosecoloreddesire · 2 years ago

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Sugar Daddy Blues, 3

Summary: You’ve been told to stay away from strangers before but…this one sounded like a dream come true. Sending you money for school, clothes, and pictures. You were living on cloud nine and somehow Elvis Presley was gonna take you all the way there.

Warnings: Daddy Kink, Older!Elvis, Younger!Reader (by 10 years), Innocence Kink, P in V (wrap it up y’all!).

Note: Thanks y’all for all the love on SDB! If you guys have any ideason how to further this series pls let me know! I was also writing a separate story and hope that I didn’t put the name in this lol. My DMs and requests are open! My finals for college start sometime this week! Love y’all!

“Soooo, what happened when you left me at the entrance, Y/N?” Your skin flushed and you all but spit your drink out at the bar.

“Emily! I didn’t do nothin’! Jerry just asked me if I saw a girl's missin' purse! That’s it!” You fold your arms and a pout decorates your lips. She scoffs as she raised the tickets in her hands.

“Well, jokes on you! We’re going again tonight! They’ve got more songs to film!” Your heart skipped a beat as she placed the ticket in your palm. You hadn’t talked to Elvis since that night out of pure humiliation.

“Really?! Now, we’ve gotta go find some new clothes to wear!” You push your empty glass toward the bartender and he nods. How the hell were you gonna face the King of Rock N Roll?! You just sucked him off and went away! How was he gonna react to that? Why did you have to say it like that?

“Well, I’m a good friend and wanted your suga’ daddy to go absolutely wild! This is just the bee's knees, Y/N!” Your best friend draws a leather dress out of a shopping bag and squeals. Your jaw all but dropped as you took the coarse fabric into your shaky hands.

“I am not wearin’ this, Em! You have lost your goddamn mind! I’d much rather ask them to dress me!” Your cheeks burned at the thought of how Elvis would react to you trying to match his all-leather get-up. Your mind ran rampant as you thought of him bending you over and proving then and there that you were his and his only. You shook your head as Emily giggled.

“C’mon! At least let me help you model it for a few pics! My aunt designed this dress and she said she needed it for a model!” You sighed but heavily agreed. You begrudgingly walk into the bathroom and pull the leather trap on. You huff as it hugs at your curves and you smile at yourself in the mirror. You look good….no! No, you can’t wear it to his special. Lord knows what he’d do or that damn manager would do!

“A lot tighter than expected but I got it on.” Emily clapped as she brought out her Polaroid camera. You pose the best you can while people in the bar are staring at you. You’re aware of the eyes but they don’t put you off but spur you on to keep posing.

“These are perfect! Now you don’t have to wear it tonight we can change real quick and call for a taxi to get there in time!” Emily grabs your arm and pulls you back into the bathroom. As you both change she helps you with her makeup. You feel an unnerving guilt bubble in your chest as Emily pats down your eyeshadow.

“I almost slept with Elvis Presley.” You freeze as Em drops the eye shadow brush in her hand. She scrambles to push her makeup away. Her hands grasp yours harshly.

“ALMOST?! Why didn’t you?! The Elvis Presley wants you,” you wince as you see the cogs turning in her head,” HE’S THAT GUY! Your suga’ daddy is Elvis?!” You shush her and place your finger on her lips. Her vision is ablaze with excitement.

“Could you scream any louder? Damn, Em! You know I’ve never done nothin’ with no one! How am I supposed to do that with Elvis?!” She continues your makeup and shakes her head. Your head swam in thoughts of every position you could think of Elvis putting you in. God, your daddy would kill you for these thoughts.

“Did you ever think of talking it out with your man? He knows you're younger than him so why wouldn’t he think you're a virgin? Maybe he’s into that?” She shrugs as she finishes your makeup and you sigh. You should’ve talked to him about it but you couldn’t get past your own pity. You brushed your clammy hands across your skirt and let your shoulders sag as she finished her hair.

“M-Maybe if I get the chance tonight I’ll talk with him. Though I doubt he’s gonna wanna talk to me after what happened.” Em took your hand and she placed a comforting hand across your cheek.

“You are burnin’ up, chick! We really gotta get him to notice you! And I know just how!” Before you can ask why she’s grinning so devilishly she pulls you along once more. You soon find yourself face to face with Jerry once again and he beams softly down at you. You nod and Emily tells you to hold her seat. You locate your seat and realize you are directly next to the stage…again. Great.

————————-

“Where were you,” it was more of an injunction than a question,”He just started so hopefully they don’t catch us on film…What-“ Your scolding is interrupted by a further entire set. He looks magnificent as he strides in a black satin shirt and red scarf.

“Wow, he looks hot, Y/N.” She nudged your side with her elbow as you can’t tear yourself away from his stature. The filming seems to go by fast with him changing multiple times. Lights behind him glow red in the dimly lit space in his name. Chills run down your spine as you acknowledge this wasn’t a Christmas song. He went against his manager again. Though instead of being worried for him…you wanted him to keep doing this kind of thing. It made him seem more…alive. More him. His voice was blaring and controlling in the resonant space. Extras and staff stared on in awe as his emotion grew and the room filled with a sense of perseverance. A gospel scene is next and you feel awful as you feel the searing desire fill your veins. And who are you kidding? A whorehouse? He knew what he was doing at that point!

The filming ends as soon as it starts and claps erupt in the studio as he stands in absolute disarray of emotions. His life was hanging in the balance of this but you could see how much he tended to the melody of this special. Individuals are being placed back by the stage as Elvis grins. He waves you over and your skin is alight with craving at the short action.

“Did ya like it, baby? I still feel like I’m shakin’.” He allowed you to wander aside from him to his dressing room. You peek around to make sure no one was tracking you both or just observing. Your eyes dart up to where Elvis was gaping earlier and make eye contact with Elvis’ manager. His eyes bore voids through you as Elvis clutches your hand.

“I-It was great, E. Um, are you still filming today or was this just a trick by Emily and your friend?” Elvis lowers your hand and chuckles.

“I do have a little filmin’ yet to do. Though mostly it was to trick you back into my life. I was worried you weren’t ever gonna talk to me, princess.” He began to unbutton his pants as you stood there frozen.

“I-I didn’t think you’d want me. I mean we met once! I just wanted to give you an out-“ His lips are fierce against yours as his hand sifted through your H/C hair. You sigh as he jerks his fingers scarcely. His desire spills into your mouth, your fingers grip the collar of his shirt severely.

“I want you so bad that it hurts, princess. I need you to want me just as badly. God, darlin’.” His gaze never leaves your lips as his statement dangles in the air. Your fingers shake as you help unbutton his shirt. What the hell were you doing? Your fingers curled around the red scarf wrapped around his throat.

“I want you, Elvis. Please, just- I’ll come to wherever your stayin’ after your filmin’ is done, alright?” Elvis’ face lights up and a brief kiss is laid upon your cheek.

“I’m gonna film this so quick, darlin’!”

“Don’t ruin your filmin’, Elvis!”

“C’mon!”

———————

“Soooo, bar time? Or suga’ daddy time, Y/N?” Emily fixes her pant leg as the two of you begin to walk out of the venue. Jerry is standing next to an expensive black car and waves at you fondly.

“Um, screw it! I’m gonna sleep with Elvis Presley.” You state confidently as Emily hoots and hollers.

“Well, you go have fun, chick! Call me and tell me everythin’!” You nod as you step into the car and thank Jerry. The ride is quiet but comfortable as you drive to Elvis. Jerry keeps small talk at a minimum as you feel your nerves rise within your body. Your skin feels hot as your body shakes.

“We’re here, Y/N.” Jerry helps you to the door of Elvis’ room and then excuses himself as he hears his friend’s footsteps beyond the door. Elvis is all smiles as he opens it. You follow him inside and he stops by a vanity in the corner. He takes a swig of whiskey and looks at you from the mirror.

“Look at you, princess. I think you should’ve come in this.” Your skin heated as he turned to you. He was wearing a robe once again but he had pajama pants on. Sadly. Stop it, Y/N. Polaroids fall out of his hands and scatter to the floor. You knew Emily was going to utilize those against you.

“My best friend told me her aunt needed a model. That’s all. How did you even get those?”

“Mm, I need one too. How about you model to me what you’ve got under that cute little piece you’ve got on.” He leans against the wall with a smirk as your eyes widened. You were going to kill Emily once this was over. How the hell did she even get those to Elvis?

“I-I’m not um. Wearin’ nothin' cute.”

“I think anythin' on your pretty body is cute, darlin’,” he walks towards you as you try to collect your thoughts. His large hands are warm as they gather at your waist. His skin burning through your clothes,” I want you so bad, lil' mama. Please, let me have you.” You nod as his body presses against you. Your conscience flying out the window.

“Fuck me, Elvis.”

“Who?”

“Please, daddy.”

“That’s my girl.” His hands are calloused and rough as they lay against your throat. Leading you to lie against the bed in his room. It’s adorned in silk sheets and velvety pillows. You smile up at him as your arms wrap around the nape of his neck.

“You bring these fancy things with you everywhere?” He laughs and places a chaste kiss on your lips. A playful smirk glistens on his face.

“Only when I know I’ve got a pretty lil’ thing in my sight. Now I need to have you, princess.” His lips are soft and wet as he ravages your neck. You grasp a tuft of his hair as you let out a loud cry. His teeth scrape at the sensitive spot on your neck, shivers of desire running down your spine.

“E-Elvis, I’ve never-“ he interrupts you as he slips your shirt off your body. You stutter as he bites his lip, taking you all in.

“I know, lil’ mama. I’ll be gentle. God, you look divine.” You nod and grab his shoulders holding him close.

“I-I got myself r-ready before seeing you, daddy.” Elvis’ eyes roll into the back of his head as a broken whine etches from his mouth. He lifts your skirt and rips your tights apart. His finger circled around your clit. Your thighs shake as his eyes blacken observing you plunge into lust within moments. His lips are urging against your throat, lapping at the newly made marks.

“God, with that mouth. I gotta have you right now, baby.” You nod as you writhe around the pillows. The sensation of his finger alone has you begging for him.

“Please, I need your cock, daddy. Please. I’ll be good.” His hand finds solace around your throat and he bites his lip. He finally strips down and runs his cock between your folds.

“You gotta be kiddin’! I really wanted to be nice, darlin’! Fuck-“ Elvis plunged inside of you and your breath hitched. Your heart races as you get used to being filled up all at once.

“Elvis-“

“Breathe baby. You’re doin’ so good. That’s my good girl.” His hands rest on your waist as he continues to push inside of you. Your nails take down his back and he hisses in pain. He pants as you squeeze him tighter. His cock throbs within you.

“I-I,” you take a deep breath as you try to get used to the feeling of being split open,” you’re too big, daddy.” Your legs shook against his waist as his hips bucked forward. His resolve was dissolving as your bare skin rubbed against his. Your innocence was fleeting as your stripped body drew him in.

“You’re gonna kill me, doll,” his lip tight between his teeth as he stares down at you,” Fuck, can I move, darlin’?” He huffs out a shaky soft moan as you try to adjust yourself to his size.

“Please, I wanna feel you.” A deep growl thunders deep in his chest as he desperately clutches at your waist.

“I gotta have you now, princess.” His eyes are dark and commanding as he thrusts forward harshly. Your back arches and he compels you back down onto the delicate sheets. Your skin is burning against his as he lays his body against yours. His hips are furious among yours as he pumps his cock in and out of you. Watching as your pussy swallows his whole cock, your name drips off his lips as he cries out.

“Fuck! Elvis, you feel so good,” you grasp at his back, your manicured nails raking down his back. Hissing, Elvis bites your shoulder as his pace picks up,” please, more, daddy-“ his voice is deep, layered in need as he howls into your collarbone. His intoxicating need is being smudged in purple across your chest. His eyes never leave your body as he commits every single curve and every dip. You were made to be his sugar baby. Made to be his everything.

“You are gorgeous, Y/N. You’re mine. My baby. My baby to spoil, right?” He accented his words with deep, harsh thrusts. You yelp as he flips the two of you over. Your body is on full display over the top of him now. His hands gripping your ass as you whine at the new angle of his cock. Your walls flutter around his cock as the desire in your core tightens.

“Yes, yours. All yours, daddy. Please, I wanna cum.” He nods as he slips his thumb to rub your clit. His eyes never leave your bouncing tits as you chase your neverending high on his dick. You roll your hips hungrily wanting to be marked as his as deep as possible. His thumb circled your desperate clit rapidly.

“Oh, baby. That’s it. My pretty little pussy. Such a good girl for daddy.” That’s it. Your body quivers with warmth and pleasure as you throw your head back. His hands wrap around your waist trying to keep you grounded. Your body convulsed as your orgasm seeps through you. A cry rips from your throat as he arranges his legs beneath you to pound into your dripping cunt. His legs shuddered underneath you as if he didn’t want this moment to end. His hand envelops your throat, you hold his arm as you try to anchor yourself. Another orgasm rips through you as quickly as it came. Your body shakes above his, grabbing you he brings you closer to his chest. Your bodies rubbing against each other.

“Please. Please. Cum inside me. I want it!” Continuous babbling falls from your lips as drool begins to pool on your skin. Elvis groans and his hips begin to stutter as his release begins. He’s grasping at your body like you’ll leave the minute he comes to. His teeth gnashing and gnawing on any expanse of your body that isn’t bruised and red. His hips continue to pump slowly in and out of you as his clarity slowly returns.

“That was not the way I planned our first time together, darlin’. God, you're still so wet. I’m sorry-“ you cut him off with a quick kiss on his nose.

“Well, you can show me for our second time together, Elvis.” You wink as you let his length slip out of you. He winces at the overstimulation and grabs a towel on the bedside table. He cleans you off softly, as he bites his lip. His seed poured out of you onto his sheets. You cover your face as he tickles you. Your giggles filling the space.

“Mm, I’m gonna stay your sugar daddy?”

“Have you found a reason not to spoil me?”

“I can’t say I have.”

“Then no! Thank you, Mister Presley.”

“Mm, Round 2?”

“I thought you’d never ask, Elvis.”

Sugar Daddy Blues Taglist: @austinbutlersgirlfriend @marriedtoeddie @el-velvis @kaitaesupremacy @eliseinmemphis @suspiciousmidge @godlypresley

#elvis presley #elvis smut #austin butler elvis #elvis fluff #elvis blurb #elvis x reader #elvis 2022 #elvis #elvis presley x reader #sugar daddy elvis #rosecoloreddesire #elvis presley fic

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nat-20s · 4 years ago

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Part 5 of Wonderful! Au. *boyband voice* banter’s back alright!

Also on AO3

~*~

Jon: Hello everyone, and welcome back to our regular format. If my husband being horribly soppy-

Martin:-hey!-

Jon: -turned you off the how, this should be a refreshing return to formula, though I can’t guarantee there won’t be further horrible soppiness-

Martin, performatively under his breath: -most people thought it was charming-

Jon: -as that tends to happen when one is recording with the love of their life. If last week’s episode is the only one that you like, too bad, I’m back in full form, and should be at least through the rest of the season.

Martin: This show doesn’t have seasons? Due to the whole lack of a narrative thing?

Jon: I was referring to spring.

Martin: Oh, right.

[A beat passes.]

Martin, flatly: Oh. Great goof hon.

Jon, smug: Thank you.

Jon, sincere: Also, before we get properly started, I did want to actually thank everyone who sent well wishes.

M artin: Yes! We got positively inundated with lovely messages, it definitely brightened both of our days. I would even say it was wonderful.

[Jon groans.]

Jon: I am..not proud of the energy we’ve created for this episode so far, and we haven’t even hit the small wonders. Speaking of, do you have a small wonder this week?

Martin: Mine’s bad action movies.

Jon: Really? I had no idea you even liked them, let alone consider them wonderful.

Martin: Okay, so, saying I like them is a bit of a misnomer? It’s more that I like what they can do more than the movies themselves?

Jon: Elaborate?

Martin: It probably comes as a surprise to no one that I’ve tried my hand at a fair amount of mindfulness and mediation techniques. I’ve found poetry and journaling have been helpful for actually processing life events and whatnot, but when it comes to giving your brain a hard wipe and reset, nothing is half as quick and effective as a shitty shoot-em-up. Somethings about 2 hours of cartoonish, pg-13 violence held together with the absolute loosest of plots brings me to a state of mental blankness that would make a monk jealous.

Jon: How have I never witnessed you doing this? When are you sneaking off to go see Micheal Tarantino or who ever films?

M artin: That’s definitely not the right name.

Jon: Martin, dear, I don’t care. And you’re dodging the question.

Martin, fond: I’m not dodging anything. Since apparently we’re getting into it, you haven’t caught me cavorting with a movie involving more explosions than character development lately because I haven’t been. Haven’t needed it, in recent years. Turns out when you’re not crushingly lonely and working a literal nightmare of job, there’s less of a drive to try and escape your own thoughts. Shocker, I know. Still, to anyone out there that feels like their brain is on fire, go try watching a fast and furious. Any of ‘em, it doesn’t matter. Or even better, Chronicles of Riddick. I can’t remember a single goddamn detail of that movie, which makes it perfect for what I’m talking about.

Jon: I have the strong feeling that th is is a “mileage may vary” scenario.

Martin: Well, yeah, that’s this whole podcast. Plus, I imagine that movies like this would cause more stress to someone who cares about, say, world-building or rules consistency.

Jon: I wonder who you could possibly be referring to.

Martin: It’s a purely hypothetical person, love, don’t worry about it. Any small wonders?

Jon: Yes! Particularly relevant to the last week, my small wonder is stripping the sheets from your bed when it’s been too long between washes.

Martin: How very specific. M ost people would just say ‘clean sheets’.

Jon: Well, for one, I’m fairly certain that we’ve already covered clean sheets-

Martin: Shit, have we? Thank god other people keep track of this, otherwise this show would be unbearably repetitive.

Jon: Christ, yes. I typically check the website a good three times while prepping, and every about one out of those three times I find I’m trying to do an topic we did 30 episodes again. Anyway, um, it’s just nice, I think. When you’ve been too busy or sick or away for awhile, tossing the sheets in the wash makes a room instantly seem nicer. Of all the chores out there, this one, at least for me, has the highest reward to effort ratio.

Martin: Hard agree. Especially when the y have that slight funk of having been around to long, getting rid of that is such a relief. Speaking of, we need to change our sheets soon.

Jon: We can do it after the episode. Who goes first this week?

Martin: Considering last week was only me talking, I’m gonna say it’s you.

Jon: Alright, then. My first thing this week is Martin K. Blackwood.

Martin: Absolutely not!

Jon: Oh, you can do a whole episode on me, but I can’t do one little segment on my husband, whom I love very dearly?

Martin: Not while I’m sat here, no!

Jon: So you’re saying you don’t want me to tell the internet that your resolve to be kind even in the face of indescribable cruelty is one of the mot breathtaking things I’ve ever witnessed, or how I find it incredibly endearing when you get so emotional that your voice comes out as a squeak, or even that, on a more base level, you’re very physically attractive, and I could lose entire days thinking about your arms alone?

Martin, audibly blushing, voice the aforementioned squeak: Oh my god, Jon!

Jon, laughing: Then it’s probably for the best that my actual first thing is best friends.

Martin, peaking the audio levels: Oh you absolute bastard! Do you enjoy this? Do you get some sort of perverse sense of entertainment from riling me up?

Jon: Oh, don’t you start. As if you’re not as bad as I am. Maybe even worse.

Martin: That’s not…

Jon: Yes?

Martin: Okay. Maybe it’s slightly true. Really, what is romance for if not flustering your partner with compliments?

Jon, teasing: I certainly can’t think of anything.

Martin: Hush, you.

Jon: No, I don’t think I will.

Martin: Fine. I suppose you can tell our delightful audience about the power of friendship or whatever.

Jon: I would’ve assumed more enthusiasm, considering this segment is still, indirectly, about you.

Martin: In what way?

Jon: In the way that, to the shock of all, you’re my best friend.

Martin, pleased: Oh, is that what I am?

Jon, exasperated: Yes, dearest husband, I wouldn’t have married you otherwise. Though, upon reflection, I knew you were my best friend before I knew I held romantic feelings for you.

Martin: When was that?

Jon, letting out a breath that vibrates his lips: God it was...2016? I think it might’ve literally been the day after you told me about your CV.

Martin: That early? Huh. I wonder if that’s what people were picking up when they said they we were close.

Jon: What people?

Martin: I don’t know specifically, that’s just what Daisy told me.

Jon: Daisy? When the hell-?

Martin: It...was when she was interrogating me? And, because sometimes I have to be a parody of myself, pretty much my only take away from that interrogation was “people think me and Jon are close”.

Jon: Well then. It’s not like they were wrong.

Martin, smug: No, no they weren’t.

Martin, sincere: And you’re my best friend, too.

Jon: I was certainly hoping that you’re in this relationship for more than my good looks and incredible fortune, both in the monetary and luck sense.

Martin: You say that as if you aren’t good looking, which we all know is patently untrue.

Jon: You’re biased. You’d say I was good looking if I were nothing more than some primordial ooze with thoughts about its station.

Martin: I’m being completely objective. If you were primordial ooze with thoughts above its station, you’d be the cutest ooze of them all. That’s just scientific fact.

Jon: I’m starting to think we might be insufferable.

Martin: Starting to? Might be?

Jon:…

[Jon clears his throat]

Jon: What I find wonderful about the concept of best friends is, to me, they’re the closest thing real life has to soulmates. I don’t personally believe that there’s some..grand mystic force that drives people to be tied together in the manner that narrative typical soulmates are, and if there was I don’t think it would necessarily be the kind of emotional, heartfelt bond one would hope for, but I do believe that there’s individuals that get to know one another, and because of that knowledge, they chose to stick with one another. It doesn’t have to be a romantic, which is why I say best friend rather than specifically ‘spouse’, but I would argue that the basis of a strong romance like you and I have, is very much rooted in that connection. A true best friendship is an equal partnership, and there’s a sense of..matched sensibilities and understanding that can be utterly incandescent when it happens.

I also think that having one or more best friends makes living life on a day to day basis both better and just flat easier. The dark times aren’t as dark, and the bright times shine even more. I know from my own personal experience there are events that I..that I don’t know how I would’ve made it through without you. Hell, last week my..recovery period would’ve taken much longer if you hadn’t been there.

It’s an amazing thing to have someone to share things with, both triumphs and burdens. Um, also, according to Dictionary.com, the term best friends in English has been around since the 1200s. Something about that delights me, like, yes, we’ve had this casual way of referring to a Favorite Person for roughly 800 years. That makes it a hold-out from early Middle English. I dunno, it’s one of those things that make me feel overall very charmed by humanity.

Martin, audibly smiling: No, yeah, hard agree.

Jon: What’s that look for?

Martin: Nothing. Just. I love you a whole lot, you know that?

Jon, voice soft: I may have heard you say that once or twice. Per hour.

Martin: Only that often? I really need to be more diligent about that.

[There’s a bet of silence, presumably where they’re making doe eyes at each other.]

Jon: What’s your first thing?

Martin: Oh, um, right. Rats!

Jon: The expression or the animal?

Martin: Jon, have you ever once heard me say “rats” as an expression? Obviously I’m referring to the animal.

Jon: Ah. Should’ve known, considering that what, a third?, of all your segments have been on animals.

Martin: Yeah? And? You got a problem with critters? With creatures? With lil guys?

Jon, laughing: No, no, it’s very sweet. I’m just surprised you never became a vet.

Martin: Oh believe me, I wanted to. But then I learned that it was not, in fact, a job composed entirely of getting paid to play with other people’s pets.

Jon: You had that job, though, didn’t you? I thought I remembered you mentioning a month long stint at a doggie day care.

Martin, sighing dreamily: Best job I ever had. Too bad that place was shut down after it was revealed to be a money laundering front.

Jon: Good lord.

Jon: Martin did you...did you know it was a money laundering front at the time?

Martin:

Martin: Would it make you feel better if I said no?

Jon: Martin!

Martin: I figured it out like a week in, but, like, who cares? The pay was decent and the floor was super easy to clean, which is very much a plus for even a front of a doggie day care.

Jon: That’s...rather a lot. How about instead of getting into that any further, you tell me about rodents.

Martin: I would love to. But first, we have a shoutout!

Jon: Ooo, a shoutout. Does it specify who should read?

Martin: Let me check. It...does...not…..

...

Jon: Martin?

[A beat.]

Martin: Right! Sorry, um. This week’s shoutout is from Tim, to Danny. It says, “Danny! My favorite person who shares genetic material with me! I wanted to say thank you for your podcast obsession from 4 months ago, and specifically for telling me about these marrieds. They’ve gotten me through many a dull hour at the publishing house. Also, with this shoutout, I’ve officially gotten ahead on the Superior [Last Name Redacted] Brother scoreboard, so suck it. Love you lots, and looking forward to your visit next month, Tim.”

Jon: Oh.

Jon: Um. That’s very..sweet? I think? Mostly?

Martin: Yeah, I’d say so. Uh. We have to take a quick break because, uh, someone is..at our front door! Be back with you all in, from your side of things, just a moment.

#wonderful! au #jonmartin #jon sims #martin blackwood #>:3 #shoutouts are their versions of jumbotrons btw

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youvebeenlivingfictional · 4 years ago

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Odd Hours//Getting Even

Pairing: Marcus Pike x Reader Rating: T Warnings: Cursing; Fluff; slow burn but not nearly as slow as my usual slow burns. Notes: This is uh... I don’t know, I’ve had the idea kicking around in my head for a while. Also please excuse the film trivia. I will take any excuse to talk about The Man Who Came to Dinner. I couldn’t decide on which title would suit better so I named it both. Not beta-read. Summary: You’d never spoken to the your new neighbor before, just traded friendly waves… At the oddest times.

Your new neighbor looked very put together all of the time. Well… The couple of times that you’d seen him in passing. He was always in a suit, his tie was always straight, and his hair was always coiffed so neatly. You just assumed that he looked that good all the time. You’d seen him with a beard once, and then the next time you’d seen him, he was clean-shaven. He was gorgeous both ways, but that beard… Fuck, it had looked good. You’d never spoken to the guy before, just traded friendly waves… At the oddest times.

-- The first time you spoke to him was evidence of that. It was almost three in the morning. You’d just gotten off of work at one of your jobs at a bar. You stifled a yawn as you stepped off of the elevator and fished into your pocket for your keys. You managed to dislodge something on your way, but you didn’t notice. At least, not until you heard: “You dropped this.” You turned to see your neighbor holding out the foldable reusable bag you tended to keep in your pocket. “Oh!” You reached out, smiling, “Thank you-- I didn’t even notice.” “Sure,” He nodded, “We haven’t met, I’m in 5B.” “5A,” You jerked your thumb over your shoulder to your door. “Marcus Pike,” He held his hand out to you, and you shook it, giving him your name. “Long night?” You asked, and he chuckled, nodding. “Very.” The two of you linger for a moment longer before you nod over your shoulder, “I’ve got a couple of hungry cats to get to, so.” “Right,” Marcus nodded. “Nice to meet you.” “You, too.” You ducked into your apartment, shutting and locking the door behind yourself. You flicked the living room light on and tossed your keys into the bowl beside the door. You stepped further inside, smiling at the sight of your two Siamese cats, Princess and Pyewacket. They lifted their heads from where they were both lounging on the couch. “I met our neighbor,” You told them. Pyewacket got up, stretching before jumping off of the couch and following you into the kitchen. “Yes, he seemed very nice,” You answered the cat’s unasked question as you reached down, scratching his chin above the black moon and star patterned collar he had on. Princess slinked into the kitchen behind him, a matching pink collar around her neck. “And hello to you, too,” You murmured, “Let’s get you fed.” -- The next run-in was almost two weeks later. It was nearly noon, and you were coming off of your other job at a bookstore nearby. You ran into Marcus as he was leaving his apartment, and your brows rose. “Hi there,” he greeted, smiling. “Hey,” You shift your bag on your shoulder as you twirl your keys around your finger. “How are the cats?” You laughed a little, nodding, “They’re good. I won’t say they were happy to see me, but I fed them, so they tolerated my existence for another day.” You eyed his pristine-as-usual-suit. “Heading to work?” “Yeah, just came off of a late night. I actually just kinda...Came back to shower and change,” He absently swept his hand over his tie. “Oh, yikes,” Your brow furrowed, “What do you do?” “I work for the FBI, International Art Theft.” Your brows rose. “Wow.” “Surprised?”

“A little,” You admitted as you walked to your door, “I had my money on your being a lawyer.”

“Really?”

You lean back against your door, waving at him, “It was the suits.”

He chuckled, “I should get going-- as long as you don’t have any stolen art in there.”

“If I did, I wouldn’t tell you, now would I?” You teased, shooting him a wink, “Have a good day, Agent, and uh-- try to get some sleep at some point.”

It wasn’t every day that you got a knock on your door at two in the morning. Your hackles were immediately up, and you were quiet and careful as you crept toward your door. You peered through the peephole, frowning at the sight of Agent Pike-- And one of your cats. You hurriedly flicked your light on and opened the door. “Is, uh, this one of yours?”

“Pye,” You groaned, reaching out to take Pyewacket out of Marcus’ arms, “I’m sorry-- sometimes he slips out when I come in, and-- He’s such a weirdo, he always waits right out here.” You cuddled him close to your chest, smiling a little as Pyewacket pushed his head up against your chin. “Thank you,” You added, scratching Pye under the chin, “I hope he didn’t bug you.” “No, he was pretty friendly.” Your brows rose. That was rather unlike Pyewacket. “I’ll be honest, I was a little surprised to see you holding him-- Though that was more because, you know.” “It’s like two in the morning?” Marcus asked. You laughed, nodding. “Another late night for you, Agent?” “Slightly,” Marcus admitted before reaching out and scratching Pyewacket under the chin, “But I appreciated the welcoming committee.” You smiled, glancing down at the cat as Marcus’ fingers brushed yours. “Well, I’m glad Pye could be of assistance.” “‘Pye’?” Marcus repeated, leaning in your doorway, “Like the food?” “Oh, no. It’s short for Pyewacket,” You explained, shifting the cat in your arms. “Like in Bell, Book and Candle with uh-- Kim Novak and Jimmy Stewart?” He asked. You blinked up at Marcus in surprise. “Uh… Yeah,” You nodded, and laughed, “Sorry, just-- Most people don’t know that.” “I’m a fan of classic movies. --Who’s this?” Marcus looked down.

You followed his gaze, laughing, “Someone that was feeling left out. That’s Princess,” You smiled. You took a little bit of a step back as Marcus crouched down to pet her. You were suddenly acutely aware that you were in your pajamas and Marcus was still very...very suited. You couldn’t help but grin as he cooed over Princess, though. “I’m not gonna lie, you strike me as a dog guy,” You admitted. “Oh,” Marcus scooped Princess up, cradling her against his chest, “I do like dogs, don’t get me wrong, but my grandmother had a cat-- big fluffy Persian named Chester.” You were quiet for a moment, watching Marcus and Princess before you glanced into your apartment. “Do um--” You hesitated, “Do you wanna come in for a drink or something?” Frankly, standing across from a cute guy as you each held one of your cats had to be the weirdest way you had ever asked a man into your place. But it wound up with you and Marcus on your couch with a beer each having a shockingly nice conversation. You didn’t keep him long - you could tell it had been a long night for him and you didn’t want to keep him late - not to mention you had come off of a shift at the bar and you were pretty tired yourself.

Pike was out of there by 2:45 (though you’d gotten his number in your phone and yours in his by 2:42). Pyewacket trotted after him to the door. Marcus gave him one last scratch under his chin, one last look at you before he murmured, “Goodnight.”

Smitten was not the word you would use. It was what you were, but you wouldn’t admit it. Hell, you barely knew the guy, had only met him a couple of times. But he seemed sweet-- and your cats liked him, that was a good sign.

You tried not to reflect on the fact that that thought made you sound like your Great-Aunt Cecily.

You held off on using Pike’s phone number for about two weeks. Then one night, around 10:30, in the middle of a William Powell marathon on TCM, Pyewacket jumped off of your couch and trotted over to the front door. You frowned, watching him and muttering, “What the fuck, dude?” before you heard the jingling of keys. You smiled when you realized why he’d gotten up - and went out on a limb as you pulled your phone out and texted Pike:

-Either you just got home or the ghosts in the hallway are bothering my cat again

You raised your phone, snapping a quick picture of Pyewacket at the door before sending it off. You glanced down at the lone messages in the chat before you closed it, tossing your phone onto the couch cushion beside you. It didn’t stay there long, though-- it buzzed a moment later.

5B: You’ve got a great alarm cat

5B: Just how often do the ghosts in the hallway bother Pyewacket?

5B: And how many ghosts are we talking?

-Like once a week, they’re very mean to him.

-And at least two ghosts, I’m convinced

You put your phone down, figuring that that would be the end of it. You were wrong. 5B: They bug Princess, too?

-Nope, they don’t dare. No one fucks with Princess

-How’s work?

5B: Busy. -Long day?

5B: Excruciatingly

-Sorry 😞

You winced, resting your head on your hand and considering. Why did you use an emoji? You raised your phone and snapped a picture of Princess where she was curled up on your lap.

-You could take Princess with you next time if it’ll help?

5B: Might take you up on that. I’d prefer not to be fucked with tomorrow

You smiled. -I’ll see what I can do about a leash

5B: Very kind of you

-Anytime

5B: Okay, I don’t wanna be weird, but I feel like almost every time I come in around dinner time, whatever you get or are making smells delicious

You looked down at your phone as it buzzed and chuckled, picking it up from where you’d left it on the counter.

-Not weird. Not to brag but I’m kinda the slow-cooker queen

You glanced at the slow-cooker, and the timer reading fifteen minutes left on the food you were making. It was a large batch - you’d wanted to have enough so that you could bring lunch to work at the bookstore. But there was enough to spare. You hesitated before texting,

-Hungry?

Marcus brought wine, and stayed for three hours. The two of you ate dinner, did the washing up, and wound up on your couch watching It Happened One Night. Conversation flowed over most of it - you’d both seen it several times. The movie gave the two of you the chance to watch and weave in and out of conversation and film trivia without pressure. Pye and Princess curled up on the couch between you like sleepy little chaperones.

By the time he left, the bottle of wine that he’d brought was empty, and he had cat hair all over his pant legs.

“Thanks for dinner,” He turned around to face you as he stopped in the hall.

“Sure,” You leaned in your doorway, tucking your hands into the pockets of your sweatpants.

“I’ll have to have you over sometime, make us even.”

Your stomach flipped at the offer and you nodded, “I’d like that.”

“What’s got you out so late?”

“Work.”

“I’m guessing it’s the bar and not the bookshop?” Marcus asked as he watched you slouch against the wall of the elevator. You smiled a little tiredly. “I see those sharp skills aren’t just reserved for art thieves, Agent Pike.” He chuckled as the two of you stepped off at your floor. “What about you?” You asked. “Grabbed drinks with the team after work. We closed a case.” “Congratulations,” You smiled, “What happened?”

“It’s a slightly long story,” Marcus shrugged, “...Would you like to come in and hear about it?” “Gimme half an hour to shower and feed the babies and I’ll be right over.” -- “...Shit.” “What?” You lifted your head from his shoulder. Considering the last two times Marcus had been to yours, you hadn’t had any reservations about going over to Marcus’ in your comfy clothes. You’d shuffled over in your slippers, and when Marcus had opened the door, you’d held up a bottle of white wine. He’d grinned and told you it would pair well with the grilled cheese he was planning on making for the two of you. Without the cats between you, you and Marcus had settled close together on the couch. As the late night wore into early morning, you’d wound up tucked into his side as you talked. “It’s almost four,” He chuckled, looking away from his watch. “Oh,” You yawned widely, “I should let you get to bed.” “I’m the boss, I can get in a little late.” You smiled, tipping your head up and finding him watching you. “You don’t seem the type to abuse that power,” You teased. “Long as it doesn’t become a habit.” “Mm-mm,” You shook your head a little bit and sat up, “I don’t wanna be a bad influence. I save that for Pye and Princess.” “Can I walk you home?” You laughed and nodded as you and Marcus got up from the couch. You missed the warmth of him as soon as you were up, and you were so tempted to turn back toward him and cuddle into his chest-- if only to warm back up. You chatted a little more on your way to the door, and you tried not to overthink the way Marcus put his hand on your lower back as he opened the door for you. -- “Can you recommend a good book?” You didn’t look away from what you’re shelving, but you couldn’t help the slight flurry of butterflies in your stomach at the question. “That depends on what you’re looking for.” “Oh...Maybe something on classic film.” “That’s gonna be two aisles that way,” You nodded over your shoulder, “Back wall.” “Could you show me?” “You really don’t have anything better to do today, Agent Pike?” You teased. There was a pause before you heard him drifting closer to you. He peered over your shoulder, his breath brushing against the shell of your ear as he murmured, “Well, I was hoping I could take you to lunch, if you’ve got time.” “You trying to even out our meal score?”

You glanced up as he leaned against the shelf beside you and met your eyes. “I’m trying to spend more time with you,” He admitted, “If you’re interested.” You lowered your eyes to the books you were shelving, unable to help the smile that grew on your lips at his bluntness. “I’m interested.”

Lunch ended with plans for Marcus to come over after your shift at the bar the following night. He dropped you back off at the bookstore and left you with a kiss on the corner of your mouth that you thought about for the rest of your shift. --

TCM was airing a Bette Davis marathon. By the time you got home, it was nearly 10:30. You showered, neatened up the apartment, cleaned as much cat hair off of the couch as you possibly could, and told Princess and Pyewacket to behave themselves. Princess blinked at you; Pyewacket flicked his tail. You texted Marcus that he could come over whenever he was ready, and there was a knock on the door ten minutes later. Marcus looked cozy in a way you hadn’t seen before - sweatpants and a t-shirt that accentuated his broad shoulders and strong arms. You stepped back and nodded him in, and grinned as he crouched down, immediately scooping up Pyewacket as he came over. --

“You know, Bette Davis wanted John Barrymore to play Whiteside,” You were cuddled against Marcus’ chest; his arm was curled around your shoulders, fingers skimming along the strap of your tank top, “But he was drinking so heavily he couldn’t remember his lines. They wound up going with Monty Wooley-- he played Whiteside on Broadway, too.” “Really?” Marcus’ question was mumbled against your temple. You nodded a little. “Mhm. Cary Grant was set to play the role at one point, but Davis was so against it that he withdrew.” “Something tells me you like this movie.” You laughed, reaching out and absently picking off a piece of cat hair off of his sweatpants. When you’d disposed of it, you rested your hand on his knee lightly, giving him a chance to shake it off. Marcus just gave your shoulder a squeeze, and you gave his knee one in turn.

The two of you watched The Man Who Came to Dinner and All About Eve. “I’m worried that I’m setting a dangerous precedent for your sleep pattern,” You sighed as the credits rolled. It was almost half past three. “Mm, don’t worry about me,” He murmured, nuzzling into your neck. You closed your eyes, shivering a little bit. “...Do you wanna stay over?” You offered, raising your hand and lightly running your fingers along Marcus’ arm. “I’d like that.” You could hear the smile in his voice. “C’mon,” You urged, patting his thigh and standing. “Should we clean up?” Marcus stood with you, looking at the empty popcorn bowl and discarded cans of beer on the coffee table. “Nah, we can deal with it in the morning,” You took hold of his hand, leading him back to your room. Marcus glanced back toward your cats, to where Princess and Pyewacket were still settled on the couch. “Do the cats sleep with you?” He asked. “Sometimes.” “They gonna be mad if I shut your door?” “They’ll get over it.”

-- It was your alarm that woke you up. You leaned across Marcus, mumbling your ‘sorry’s and shutting it off. Once you did, you leaned back down, resting your head on his shoulder and closing your eyes again. You smiled as his arm curled around your waist. “You need to go?” He mumbled. “No, just-- Forgot I had it set.” “Good.” You smiled, turning your head and nuzzling against his shoulder. “You sleep okay?” “Mhm,” He hummed, sliding his thumb along the hem of your shirt, “You should stay over at mine next time.” “So we’re even?” You blinked up at him as his fingers curled under your jaw, tipping your head up to look at him. “Things aren’t always about getting even,” He smiled sleepily down at you. “What’s it about then?” “...Why’d you ask me to stay over?” You hesitated before you pushed yourself up to lean over him, “I thought you’d look good in my bed. And whaddaya know? I was right.” Marcus laughed, using the arm wrapped around you to draw you against his chest. “You know what I’ve been thinking about?” He asked. “Mm?” “Kissing you.” Heat curls in your stomach, tingling and pleasant. “Something stopping you?” You asked. The hand on your jaw slipped down to rest on the back of your neck. His eyes darted between your eyes and your lips for a few moments before he leaned up, brushing his lips against yours. You felt that spark grow in your stomach, and you dipped your head a little closer, chasing the chaste touch. You shifted, leaning more heavily against him and resting your hand on his chest, fingers curling in the fabric of his shirt, hooking in his collar. When he pulled you closer and turned, settling you down on your back, you went easily, letting your thighs splay so that he could lay between them. You moaned quietly as your kisses became warmer, more insistent. You wrapped an arm around Marcus’ shoulders, sighing as he slipped a hand under your shirt. And then you heard a yowl at your door. You groaned quietly, dropping your head back as Marcus laughed, resting his forehead against your neck. “I told them to behave,” You whined. “Don't blame them, this is on me. I should’ve kissed you last night,” Marcus murmured against your throat. You shivered, chuckling a little. “I should feed them before they do something rude like continue to yell... or throw up in your shoes.” “Would they do that?” “Oh, god yeah. I love Princess, but she’s an asshole.” --

You reached down, setting Pye’s food dish down for him and scratching him behind the ears as he began to eat. Princess was already halfway through her food. You glanced over at your phone as it buzzed on the counter and grinned when you saw who it was.

❤️5B: How’s unpacking?

-Nearly finished. A couple of boxes left. Pye was sleeping on a stack, so I couldn’t touch it.

❤️5B: No worries, baby. On my way home. Need anything?

-Cat food and popcorn. Humphrey Boggart marathon starts at 8

❤️5B: Takeout?

-Nope, got dinner covered. ❤️5B: You’re my favorite. -Don’t let Pyewacket hear you saying that. ❤️5B: Favorite human.

-Better. Btw some couple moved in across the hall. I think they have a dog?

❤️5B: I’ll make sure Pye doesn’t get out when I come in

Tag list: @mylittlelonelyappreciationtoo; @fantasticcopeaglepasta; @paintballkid711

#Marcus Pike x Reader #Marcus Pike x You #Marcus Pike/You #Marcus Pike/Reader #Marcus Pike Imagine #Odd Hours//Getting Even #Tumblr was doing WEIRD formatting things so i'm sorry if anything looks wonky??#Marcus Pike

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calwrites · 3 years ago

Text

Fearless

Prequel to Don’t You

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x reader

Word count: 4.5k

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“Looks like it finally stopped raining.”

The murmur of the coffee shop was replaced by the sounds of the city as you followed Sebastian outside. The humidity seemed to hit you like a truck, making you miss the air conditioning you had just left.

“Finally. I thought I was going to be stuck in that coffee shop with you forever.” You laughed at the faux offended look on Sebastian’s face. “That’s what I get for not checking the weather.”

“Next time I’ll let you wait out the rain by yourself,” Sebastian threatened. His grin made the corners of his eyes crinkle a bit. Had they always done that? Had you just never noticed before?

“At least then I won’t have a bunch of teenage girls taking pictures of me the whole time. They’re scary. How do you deal with that all the time?” It had been disconcerting to have the group of girls staring at you and Sebastian as you sat and chatted. For a moment, you had thought you were crazy when you noticed them looking. The first thought you had was that you had something on your face or needed to fix your hair, but you realized why they were so focused on your table when they walked over to ask Sebastian for pictures.

Sebastian let out a sigh as he shrugged. For a second you were worried that you had said something wrong. “I just try to ignore it most of the time. I’m polite if they come up to me. I’d rather they like me than hate me.”

“I’m sure you have lots of stories. You’ll have to tell me sometime.” Your eyes widened when you realized what you’d said. What if he didn’t want to see you again? “I mean, if you’re staying in the city long. I’m sure you’re really busy.”

“I’ve got some promo to do soon, but I’m not filming again for a few months. I wanted a bit of the break.” Sebastian waved his hand. “Let’s not talk about my work. What about you? You taking the business world by storm?”

“Well I did just get a raise, so now I can almost afford my rent, groceries, and student loans.” The joys of living in New York City.

“Ah sounds like everything’s going well then. Are your parents still around?” Your parents had basically fallen in love with Sebastian when they first met him freshman year. A group of your friends had come over to your house for a movie night and Sebastian had insisted on staying to help you clean up after everyone else had left. Your mom had spent the next few weeks not so subtly dropping hints that she thought you should date him.

“Yeah they’re still in Jersey. They tried to convince me to move in with them, but I told them I didn’t want to have to commute into the city every day. Of course, that set them off about how that’s what they’ve been doing my whole life because they didn’t want me growing up without a yard or whatever.”

“So it sounds like they haven’t changed much?” You shook your head slightly to force yourself to stop watching Sebastian as he laughed.

“No they have not.” You bumped your shoulder against Sebastian’s gently. “They’re your number one fans, you know.”

“Oh they are?” His eyebrows raised in surprise, and he was already fighting a smile, no doubt waiting to hear what embarrassing things your parents had done since high school graduation.

“They see all of your movies in theaters.” Multiple times, but you didn’t want Sebastian to think they were weirdos.

“Even the bad ones?”

“Even the bad ones. I did tell them that they aren’t allowed to buy any of the Bucky dolls.”

“They’re action figures.”

You rolled your eyes, but found yourself matching Sebastian’s smile anyway. “Whatever. It’d be weird seeing a mini version of you at my parents’ house. It’s bad enough that they still have a bunch of high school pictures hung up.”

“My mom does too. She’s going to be so excited when I tell her that I ran into you. You were always her favorite of our group.”

You stopped suddenly, grabbing Sebastian’s arm. He looked a little alarmed, but you ignored it. “Are you serious? I was always so scared of her. This is the best day of my life.” You had met Sebastian’s mom a couple of times throughout high school, but had never been able to tell whether or not she liked you.

“Scared of her? Why? Because of the accent?”

“The accent didn’t help, but really it was because she’s hot. That makes her intimidating.”

Sebastian groaned and pulled a face. “No. You can’t think my mom is hot. That’s not allowed. Take it back or I’m sending your parents all of the Bucky dolls I can find.”

“It’s not like I wanted to bang her or anything. I just think that she’s an attractive woman. Which makes sense considering how attractive you are.” Your mouth snapped shut. You weren’t sure who was blushing more, you or Sebastian. “Let’s forget about this whole conversation.” Sebastian laughed slightly and nodded.

It was silent between you two as you continued your walk through the streets. You weren’t really sure where he was going. You were heading to your car, but you couldn’t tell if Sebastian was also going somewhere or if he was just following you. If you had looked up, you would have noticed that Sebastian was watching you carefully. But you didn’t look up. Your eyes were on the pavement, watching the glow of the lights in the reflection from the rain.

“Do you remember that poster that was in our English class freshman year?” you asked suddenly. Sebastian’s brow crinkled slightly as he tried to remember, but then he followed your gaze to the glowing pavement and smiled.

“Life isn’t about waiting for the storm to pass. It’s about learning to dance in the rain.” The two of you laughed slightly as you remembered your slightly eccentric teacher. “We made fun of that poster so much.”

“It was a stupid poster. But remember it was raining when we were leaving the homecoming dance freshman year and we started dancing in the parking lot-”

“And all of our friends thought we were crazy,” Sebastian finished. “To be fair, we were crazy. That was probably the most fun part of the dance though.”

“Are you saying that I was a bad date?” You gasped and brought your hand up to your mouth as if Sebastian had offended you. Both of you dissolved into giggles.

“I’m saying that I was probably a bad date. I was so awkward. I had such a big crush on you.” Sebastian rubbed his neck uncomfortably. You definitely didn’t notice how the action made his arms look.

“Wait really?” This was news to you. You had always kind of assumed that Sebastian didn’t like you very much. He had always seemed to just tolerate your presence.

“Oh yeah. All the guys used to make fun of me because I got so awkward around you. That’s why I never talked when you were with us.”

“I just thought you were shy or something.” Or that he secretly hated you.

“Well that too,” Sebastian admitted with a small grin.

“You should have just told me. I had a crush on you too. I was so excited when you asked me to the dance.” You were so engrossed in conversation that you almost walked right past your car. “Oh, this is me.”

“Oh.” Was it your imagination or did Sebastian look disappointed? Before you could figure it out, he was smiling again. “It’s been nice catching up. We should hang out again. You still have the same number?”

You assured Sebastian that you did and the two of you exchanged more pleasantries. After sliding into your car, you watched Sebastian continue down the street. The memory of the two of you dancing wildly in the parking lot while the rest of your friends complained about the rain made you smile. You kind of wished you had asked him to dance again.

————————

Part of you already wished that this weekend would never end, even though it had barely even begun. You had finally made it out of the city and still had a couple hours of driving left, but you were already dreading having to go back into the office on Monday.

You and Sebastian had been hanging out more since running into each other last month. Most of the time, you got away without any pictures of the two of you getting out, but recently that had been getting harder and harder to do. Now, through what you could only assume was some sort of social media stalking witchcraft, people had managed to figure out who you were. The hundreds of notifications had freaked you out at first, but after deleting all of the social media apps from your phone, it was totally not a big deal.

Until your coworkers had found out. Some magazine had printed a picture of you and Sebastian, including your name underneath it, so now everyone at the office was either making fun of you by pretending to take paparazzi pictures whenever you walked into a room or constantly asking about Sebastian. Needless to say, you desperately needed this weekend away.

“Hungry eyes,” Sebastian sang, rather poorly though you suspected that was on purpose. You had seen him in musicals in high school. He half turned towards you, reaching out with one hand while the other stayed on the wheel, as he continued to sing along to the music. “One look at you and I can’t disguise these-”

“Keep your eyes on the road,” you scolded, though you couldn’t help but laugh at his bad attempt to hit a high note. “You know, I was worried that you would get us killed at the cabin, but now I know you’re going to get us killed before we even make it there. And stop caressing my hair.” You slapped his hand away for emphasis.

He reached out again to run a hand down your hair. “I am not caressing your hair-”

“Definitely were.”

“-and I am not going to get us killed. We are going to have a nice relaxing weekend at a cabin that I rented and am graciously letting you stay at without paying me back. And we aren’t going to worry about paparazzi or annoying coworkers or random people on the street with cell phones.” There may have been a incident earlier that week where you had almost gone up to a random person in the street to yell at them about taking pictures of you and Sebastian. It turned out they were just a lost tourist who barely spoke English. That was when Sebastian decided that you needed a vacation too.

“I think I’m paying you back by forcing myself to spend time with you. You’re very hard to get along with. Plus, I have no money for vacations. We can’t all be actors in Marvel movies.” The trees blurred by as Sebastian drove down the highway.

“You know, I could probably get you in the next Captain America movie. You might not have any lines, but you could stand in the background.” Had he ever offered any of your other friends from high school roles in his movies? No, you couldn't let yourself get caught up in these kinds of questions.

“Sebastian, thanks again-”

“Stop! I told you to stop thanking me-”

“Thanks again,” you continued loudly, “for inviting me. I know that you were looking forward to a relaxing weekend away before you have press stuff. If you want, we don’t have to talk to each other. I don’t want to ruin your relaxation.”

Sebastian shifted uncomfortably in his seat at your thanks, but then shot you an incredulous look. “How would you ruin my relaxation? I wouldn’t have invited you if I didn’t want to spend time with you.”

“Promise?”

Sebastian sent you a smile that was so full of warmth that you could have melted right there. You were definitely getting caught up now. You tried to snap yourself out of it by thinking about all of the reasons you could never date Sebastian. First, he was Sebastian. He knew what you looked like when you were young and awkward. He had seen the awful bangs you cut yourself sophomore year. Second, he was Sebastian Stan. Surely he’d never date a nobody like you. Not that he was stuck up now. He was surprisingly similar to how he had been in high school. It’s just, he could date models if he wanted to. You were definitely not a model. And you wouldn’t even want to date someone in the spotlight like him. Third, you had been on like two dates with the skeazy guy from accounting. If you ignored most of what he said, he was only a little skeazy. Barely tolerable really. You could work with that.

But then Sebastian ran his hand through his hair, and you had to bite your lip to stop yourself from saying anything stupid. Did he know what he was doing or was he just naturally this cool now? Either way, it was going to be a long weekend.

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The dance was not fun. Whoever was writing the prom scenes in all of those cheesy movies was full of crap. The decorations looked bad, your dress was uncomfortable, and you were so busy making sure everything was running smoothly that you weren’t even getting to enjoy your senior prom. You never should have agreed to head the prom committee. Surely the night would be more fun if you didn’t have any responsibilities.

Except you’d probably still be standing on the edges of the dancing watching as all of your friends danced with their boyfriends. You had thought that this would finally be the dance you had a boyfriend for, but then your boyfriend broke up with you less than two weeks before because you were spending too much time working on prom. Great. Wonderful.

It had been difficult to mentally prepare yourself to go to senior prom without a date after working so hard on it. It had seemed almost poetic when Sebastian asked you. The two of you had gone to your first high school dance together and now you were at your last high school dance together.

Except Sebastian had barely talked to you all night. In fact, he had barely even looked at you. At least, that’s what you thought. Sebastian later confessed to you that he was scared he’d get in the way of your prom committee duties so he watched you from afar as you took care of the last minute issues. But you didn’t know that yet.

“Decided to actually acknowledge me?” you snapped when Sebastian leaned against the wall beside you.

Sebastian rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably. He was probably already regretting coming over to talk to you. “I probably deserve that. You just seemed busy.”

“There were a couple of issues that I had to take care of. I still want to enjoy the dance though.”

“So let’s enjoy it.” Sebastian held his hand out to you and nodded to the dance floor. You smiled gratefully at him and took his hand, letting him lead you out.

Neither of you were great dancers, and the dance floor was maybe a little too crowded, but you made the best of it. After bumping into another couple one too many times, you and Sebastian retired back to the wall, perfectly content to watch the others and whisper amongst yourselves.

“So have you had fun tonight?” Sebastian asked. You had, which was surprising considering how badly the night had started out. Sometimes you forgot how well you and Sebastian could get on. It was so rare to talk to him one on one. You really didn’t know how prom could have gone better. You were kind of disappointed that prom was wrapping up. Already, the dance floor had begun emptying as people left for various after parties.

“I did.” Sebastian grinned, obviously pleased with your answer. “But it wasn’t nearly as good as homecoming freshman year.”

Sebastian's smile faded as he tried to recall the dance you were talking about. “Wasn’t that dance really awkward though?”

“Sure the actual dance was,” you shrugged. “But dancing in the parking lot after was one of my favorite high school memories.”

Sebastian threw his head back to laugh, his hand resting on your shoulder to steady himself. “I’ll admit that I’m kind of glad it’s not raining tonight. My mom was not happy that I got my suit wet. But we can still dance like that tonight. There’s plenty of room on the dance floor.”

“Absolutely not,” you scoffed. “We’d look crazy.”

“Everyone here is either our friend or someone who we’ll probably never see again.” Sebastian held his hand out to you. You bit your lip as you considered before meeting his eyes. He raised an eyebrow in challenge.

“Fine.” Sebastian laughed as you took his hand, once again allowing him to drag you onto the dance floor. He was truly fearless in his dancing this time. Obviously you had to follow suit and ignore the looks people were throwing you as you and Sebastian twirled and spun and jumped around. By the time it was time to leave the dance, you both were red faced and breathless with laughter. The sky was perfectly clear as you walked through the parking lot, but part of you wished it was raining so you could once again dance in a storm in your best dress with Sebastian.

————————

“I thought you weren’t talking to me because you didn’t really want to go with me.”

“What?” Sebastian took his eyes off the road quickly to look over at you. “Why would I ask you if I didn’t want to go with you?”

“I don’t know. Maybe our friends told you to since neither of us had dates.”

“You’re crazy. I was so intimidated by you that I didn’t want to get in your way.” You scoffed and started to speak but Sebastian shushed you. “You’ve always been the most impressive person in the room.”

You weren’t entirely sure how to respond to that. Sebastian Stan thought that you were impressive. But what exactly did that mean? That he thought it was neat that you managed to wrangle high school students enough to plan prom? He said ‘you’ve always’ which seemed to imply that he still felt that way. Right? But he was a successful actor. He worked with people way more impressive than you every day.

The thoughts flashed furiously through your head as Sebastian continued to drive slowly through the town. He had certainly achieved his goal to get away from the city. It was hard to believe the small town you’d spent the weekend in was so in the same state as the city. Paparazzi had certainly not been a worry for the two of you. Eventually, the car reached the end of the road. Rather than turning around and heading back into town, Sebastian put the car in park.

“I don’t want to go back,” he sighed. You had to agree with him. You wanted to stay right there. It had been so relaxing to get away from it all. No paparazzi. No fans. No coworkers. Just you and Sebastian. But it couldn’t last. You had work, and Sebastian had interviews.

“So let’s stay here,” you suggested. “We’ll stock up on food and then barricade ourselves in the cabin. We’ll obviously have to defend ourselves when Marvel comes looking for you and my company comes looking for me, but I have complete confidence that we can take them.” Not that you had reached a position in the company where they would notice you were missing. Maybe after a week or two they’d notice something was off. Marvel was sure to be quicker though.

“Ha ha you’ve made your point.” He sighed again. “This has been the best weekend I’ve had in a long time. Thanks for coming with me.”

“Thanks for inviting me.” Your voice sounded small in the sudden stillness of the car. Sebastian’s eyes flickered over your face, going from your eyes to your lips. “What did you mean earlier?”

“About what?”

“When you said that I was always the most impressive person in the room.” You were a little nervous about his answer. There was a good chance you’d made it out to be deeper than he meant. But then you remembered how fearless and free you felt when Sebastian led you out onto the dance floor at prom, and you knew you had to know the answer.

“Exactly that. I’m constantly in awe of you. The way you were the smartest person at school. I mean, I think you’re still the smartest person I know. I don’t understand anything you’re saying when you talk about work. You always knew exactly what to say to diffuse any of our friends’ drama. You’re kind and funny and always keep me on my toes.” Sebastian paused for a moment. You tried to speak, but all you could do was look at his beautiful blue eyes. “Running into you might be the best thing to ever happen to me.”

“Sebastian,” you murmured. Before you could think of anything else to say, Sebastian’s lips were on yours. You smiled into the kiss as you ran your fingers through Sebastian’s hair. It was the perfect length. You tried your best to capture the memory of this moment. The feel of his lips. His hand on your cheek. The faint sound of birds chirping outside. The patter of rain on the car roof. It was all perfect, and you wanted to remember every second of it.

————————

You didn’t know how life could get better than this. Sebastian’s hand was entwined with your own as you walked through the streets. You had been nervous about this at first. What would his fans think? So far they had been curious but benign when it came to you. Hopefully that wouldn’t change now.

You had almost cancelled when Sebastian showed up at your door. A night in suddenly sounded really good. He hadn’t let you though. Instead, Sebastian had grabbed your hand and pulled you out onto the street. You laughed as he twirled you, causing the skirt of your favorite dress to flow out.

“Good thing it’s not raining today,” Sebastian had laughed. “This would be much less enjoyable if we were getting rained on.”

“I don’t know about that. I think we normally have a pretty good time in the rain.”

You had managed to walk to the restaurant without being spotted, though you had noticed some people taking pictures as you were eating. By the time the bill had been paid, you were more than happy to take Sebastian’s hand and follow him outside. A short walk later and the two of you were strolling around a park eating ice cream on the way back to your apartment.

“So did you have fun tonight?” Sebastian asked.

“I did,” you admitted with a smile. “It was a lot better than I was expecting.”

“Ouch.” Sebastian made a faux wounded expression that ended up making you both laugh. “I didn’t realize you thought I’d be a bad date.”

“It wasn’t you I was worried about. Your fans kind of terrify me. Not gonna lie. I half expected them to show up at the restaurant and start pelting me with rotten fruit or something.”

“That would certainly kill the mood, but I don’t think you have to worry about people throwing fruit at you.”

“No. I just have to worry about what people are going to be saying about me online.”

“Hey, stop.” Sebastian caught your hand and pulled you back to where he had stopped walking. His hands cupped both sides of your face as he looked seriously at you. “It’s going to be ok. Yeah, there are going to be some people who say some mean things. Just ignore it. It’s why I don’t bother with social media much. It doesn’t matter what they say.”

“Easy for you to say. You’re not the one they’re going to accuse of dating someone just to latch onto their fame or money.” Soon after you and Sebastian had started hanging out, the posts about you trying to use Sebastian’s game to get ahead had started. It didn’t really make much sense. Being friends with an actor wasn’t going to get you promoted any sooner. Still, they had annoyed you and sometimes made you feel weird about being around Sebastian.

“I know that you’re not using me. You know that you’re not using me. Everyone that matters will know that you’re not using me. If anything, I’m getting the better end of our relationship. I’m getting to date the most amazing woman ever.”

“Most amazing woman ever?” you repeated. “I’m not sure I have the necessary qualifications for that title.”

“Would you like to hear your qualifications?”

“Yes I would.” You giggled slightly, feeling like a kid with a crush, when Sebastian slung his arm around you and pulled you close so that he could whisper in your ear.

“You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. You are the smartest person I know. You’re kind and funny and you know all of this already because I’ve told you it before.”

“Yeah but I wanted to hear it again.” Your face was so close to Sebastian’s as you whispered back to him that your noses were almost touching. You hardly dared to breathe as your eyes flickered between his eyes and his lips.

Sebastian just barely started moving closer when you both heard “Is that Sebastian Stan?” coming from a nearby group of people. You jumped back almost immediately, blushing like a kid who was caught holding hands on the playground. Sebastian sent you a small smile before turning to face the fans who had come up to ask for pictures. Once he was finally finished with that, he took your hand again and led you back towards your apartment. Hopefully, no one had gotten a picture of you two in the park about to kiss. Despite what Sebastian had said, you were still scared of what people would say. Your hands shook slightly as you walked, so you slipped your hand out of his, hoping he hadn’t noticed.

Quicker than you would have liked, you were back outside your apartment building. “Do you want to come up?” you asked when he stopped on the sidewalk.

Sebastian shook his head. “I have to be up early tomorrow, and, if I go up, I’m never gonna want to leave.” Sebastian grabbed your hands, which were still shaking, and pulled you close before resting his hands on your hips. “I had a great time tonight.” He smiled, making you feel a bit more brave. This was just Sebastian. The same Sebastian you had known for years growing up.

Slowly, Sebastian brought a hand up to your face, giving you plenty of time to stop him. But you didn’t want to. He was making you feel a bit fearless. You grinned as he kissed you softly. Even though it wasn’t your first kiss, it certainly felt like it. Although technically, it was your first kiss as an official couple. And it was your first kiss out in public, where someone could take a picture that would make its way through the Marvel fandom.

But that didn’t matter to you now. The kiss was flawless. And despite whatever people online were probably already posting about you, you would never regret this moment. Life with Sebastian was undeniably better than life without him.

————————

tags

@bbl32

#sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x yn #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan fluff #sebastian stan oneshot #calwrites

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you-can-call-me-wanda · 4 years ago

Text

Fake Dating

Pairing: Nikki Sixx x Reader

A/N: I hope you guys enjoy! Thanks for reading :)

When you first started dating Nikki Sixx, it was all for the money.

Now dating someone for money may sound cruel and awful to most, but in your case, it was a little different. Dating Nikki was literally your job.

You had been reached out to by Nikki’s management close to eight months ago and were offered the job of becoming his fake partner. Mötley Crüe had gotten into some sort of scandal once again that had the public upset and protesting their work. It really wasn’t anything that bad that the band had been up to, just their typical hotel shenanigans, but it happened right before their new album release and their label was desperate to change the opinions of any upset mothers to try and increase album sales.

So, they had reached out to you. Why? Because you were exactly what they needed to get the public back on the side of Mötley Crüe. You were a small-time actor and pretty much universally liked. Having gotten most of your fame from starring in a recent and popular children’s movie, you were recognizable to children and parents alike. You were relatively new to professional acting, so there was no sort of rumors or nasty gossip associated with your name. Not to mention, you were young and beautiful and, even better, had no criminal record. You perfect for the role of Nikki Sixx’s significant other.

You were hesitant to accept of course. Sure, you had heard rumors of celebrities with fake or hired partners before, but never had you been asked to be in on one of those schemes. It felt wrong, to be lying to so many people, but the pay was too good for you turn down. You were in between gigs at the moment, having had no job offers since your big movie role. Maybe it was wrong to have ever accepted, but you had, and there was definitely no turning back now.

To everyone’s surprise and Mötley Crüe management’s absolute glee, the tabloids and press was obsessed with your and Nikki’s relationship. After just one “date” out with Nikki, a no-expenses lunch courtesy of Elektra Records and lots of well-timed hand holding and pecks on the cheek, paparazzi photos of the two of you could be seen on virtually every teen gossip magazine’s cover. When people mentioned Mötley Crüe now, they were talking about you and Nikki, not the fact that they got banned from the Hilton or destroyed over fourteen thousand dollars’ worth of property at their last hotel stay on tour.

Like you were, Nikki had been hesitant to play along with this fake relationship. It was weird and the whole thing was uncomfortable in the beginning. You were a complete stranger to him and now he was expected to kiss you in public and take you out on dates? It was awkward to say the least. But over time, the two of you warmed up to each other and your roles. With every staged date, you two got closer and closer and got to know each other more and more. Things got easier, and you actually began to enjoy the company that Nikki provided when you saw him, and the two of you even began to hang out sometimes even when it wasn’t scheduled by corporate.

“Hey (Y/N)!”

You turned around where you stood to see Nikki and his best friend and bandmate, Tommy, running towards you.

“Hey,” you said, smiling widely at the two boys. “You guys ready for your big show?”

Today was the last night of Mötley Crüe’s tour and it was the biggest show yet. You had been invited by management since the show was to be filmed with some backstage footage as well. And since Nikki was your fake boyfriend, it only made sense for you to be there with him.

“Hell yeah!” Tommy cheered, twirling his drumsticks in his hands. “Tonight is going to be killer! You’re gonna be watching from side stage, right?”

“Of course I will,” you said. “You know how much I love seeing you guys play.”

And it was true. The best part about your newest acting role besides getting to hang out with Nikki, was watching his band perform on stage.

“That’s why you’re the best,” Tommy said, ruffling a hand through your hand and bounding off down the hall on the venue excitedly. “I’m going to go warm up!” he called over his shoulder. “Don’t chicken out on me Sixx!”

You turned back to Nikki with a confused smile.

“That boy is all kinds of weird,” you laughed.

“Tell me about it,” Nikki said with an eye roll.

“What does he mean about chickening about?” you asked. “You nervous for the show or something?”

Nikki had never seemed nervous before a performance before. He was normally excited, but maybe since this was his biggest gig yet, the stage fright was getting to him. You examined him carefully. He did look a little nervous. He was tapping his fingers to an irregular rhythm against his leather-clad thigh and biting his lip just slightly.

Nikki sighed through his nose and attempted to look non-chalant. The real reason he was so nervous was because tonight was the night he had decided would be the time when finally he told you that he loved you. He had stupidly mentioned it to Tommy who in turn had told Mick and Vince and half the crew. Now, almost thirty people had wagered money on whether he would actually go through with it or not. Somehow, thankfully, you had been left blissfully in the dark to all of this.

“No,” Nikki said. “I’m not nervous. It’s nothing really. Just Tommy being dumb like always.”

“Oh, okay,” you responded. “As long as you’re okay. By the way, Mick said you wanted to talk to me earlier.”

Nikki cursed under his breath. Of course, Mick would intervene. He had bet a hefty amount of cash on Nikki being brave enough to confess his feelings to you.

“He did? Oh, well, it’s really nothing important. It can wait until later,” he said, swallowing thickly.

In reality, Nikki was genuinely terrified to tell you that he loved and ask you out. Normally, he was confident in matters like this, but with you, he felt like he was diving headfirst into the unknown. He felt a connection with you, and he was sure that his feelings for you were true, but he had no idea if you felt the same. In any other situation, he could probably figure out if someone were interested in him based on how they interacted, but with you that was near impossible. You were literally being paid to date him. How was he to discern between your acting and what you really thought? For all he knew, you could hate his guts and just be putting on a show to keep getting your monthly check.

And if he told you that he loved you, and you didn’t feel the same, he wouldn’t know what to do. Not only would he be heartbroken, but he wouldn’t be able to hide from you. You would still be invited to events and he would still have to pretend to be your boyfriend. He couldn’t imagine anything worse than having to kiss you knowing that you didn’t and had never had any feelings for him.

“Are you sure?” you asked. “There’s plenty of time to talk now. You’re not on for another hour at least.”

“I just uh, I just- I don’t know,” Nikki stammered.

“Sixx,” you said with a laugh. “Just tell me.” You placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “You’re my fake boyfriend, remember? I love you,” you joked.

Your words pained Nikki because he knew you were only teasing.

“Do you really though?” Nikki asked quietly, finally finding the strength to make his move.

The smile slipped off your face.

“What?”

“Do you actually love me?” Nikki repeated louder, looking up at you. “Do you really love me?”

You were caught off guard to say the least. That was not what you had been expecting Nikki to ask you. Did you love him? Of course you did, but why was he asking? Had he figured out that you were secretly harboring feelings for him, the boy you were supposed to be fake dating? Had he realized that your acting was getting to be too realistic, that you couldn’t possibly be faking this well?

“Why are you asking me that?” you said, avoiding answering his question.

“Just answer me,” Nikki said. His eyes searched yours for an answer.

You could feel your heart hammering away in your chest. Did he know? You were panicking, trying to think of something to say. Should you deny any feelings you had for him? It would be unprofessional to admit that somewhere along the line, you had begun to really love him.

“(Y/N),” Nikki said, realizing you weren’t going to answer him. “(Y/N), I don’t want to be your fake boyfriend anymore.”

You felt like he had punched you in the gut. All the air left you lungs. So, this was it. He had figured you out and was ending things. He didn’t want to see you anymore now that he knew.

“You- what?” you asked, unable to hide the disappointment in your voice. “Why?”

“I don’t want to be your fake boyfriend anymore because I want to be your real boyfriend (Y/N),” Nikki said. His eyes turned downcast, too nervous to look at you. “I don’t know when it happened (Y/N), but I’ve fallen for you. You’re just- you’re everything I’ve ever wanted. You’re smart and witty and fun. You can make me laugh and get me out of a bad mood. You know how to party, but you also can just sit and have an honest conversation with me. I love you and I want this to be real, what’s going on between us.”

You were speechless yet again. You gazed at him in awe, shocked by what he had just admitted.

Nikki took your surprised silence as rejection and his shoulders sagged visibly.

“Are you mad at me?” he asked eventually, daring to look up at you now.

“I, uh- I mean, no. I’m just surprised is all,” you managed to spit out. “You really mean all that?”

Nikki merely nodded.

“Nikki, I- oh my god. I love you too,” you said, finally finding the words you wanted to say back to him.

Nikki looked skeptically hopeful.

“You do?” he asked hesitantly. “You really mean that?”

“Nikki,” you started, breaking out into a grin. “I have loved you for months now. I thought you could never feel the same, so I didn’t say anything. I thought you would hate me if I told you.”

“I could never hate you,” Nikki said, lips curling up to match yours. “God (Y/N), I really love you. Can I- will you- would you be alright if we started dating for real now?” he asked. “No more staged dates or kisses. Just you and me actually doing this.”

You nodded excitedly.

“Yes,” you agreed quickly. “Yes, I would like nothing better Nikki.”

Nikki let out a relieved laugh and quickly threw his arms around you in a tight embrace.

“Can I ask you one last thing?” he said, as you hugged him back.

“Of course,” you said, pulling back to look at him.

“Can I kiss you now? For real this time?”

#nikki sixx #nikki sixx x reader #nikki sixx imagine #motley crue x reader #motley crue imagine #motley crue #wanda writes

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let-me-write-shit · 4 years ago

Note

Could u do one w famous!reader (singer and actress) and she’s Brazilian and they met at late late show or idk some other talk show?? Thank u love ur writing

A/N: Thank you so much for the request, @lebortoletto, and sorry it took so long! Hope you like it!!

Word Count: 4,746

Requests are OPEN! If you have a request for a blurb, oneshot, imagine, whatever, Send me a message HERE!!!

To add yourself to my Taglist, click HERE

CLICK HERE TO READ OTHER COMPLETED STORIES

Friendly reminder to please like and/or reblog. It helps more than you think :)

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The Late Late Show

Y/N always loved coming on James Corden’s ‘The Late Late Show’. His team was always super organized and kind, and James sometimes treated his guests with a meal at a restaurant after the taping since it was usually filmed during dinnertime, and they always had a lot of fun on-set. James was one of the few television hosts whom Y/N would consider a friend.

Of course, being an actress provided Y/N an opportunity to meet and make friends with hundreds of other celebrities, and she considered herself to be amongst nearly all groups of celebrity friendships, but there were some more notable people which she hadn’t had the pleasure to meet, yet. One being Harry Styles.

She’d wanted to meet him since the days of One Direction, but their paths somehow never crossed, which was odd considering nearly all of her friends were mutuals with him. They followed each other on Instagram and Twitter, and would occasionally like the other’s pictures or tweets, but that was about as far as it went. She didn’t have the courage to message him. But that ended today. Both of them would be appearing on his show together.

She and her team arrived early, being escorted to a private room. Most of her team went to the main backstage room while Y/N got her hair and makeup done in her private room. There was still some time left to spare by the time they were finished, and Y/N, along with her PR person, decided to greet everyone backstage and have a quick snack before she changed clothes. She bumped into Reggie and a few other members of James’ team on the way back, smiling and chatting with them while they walked down the hall. As soon as she entered the room, she heard her name called out.

“Y/N! Hello!”

Y/N turned her head in the direction of the voice and smiled when she saw James Corden in the middle of a conversation with Harry Styles and someone else she hadn’t recognized, presumably on his team. She made her way over, noticing Harry holding a small, half-eaten sandwich, and trying to keep her composure.

“Hello, so good to see you again,” Y/N grinned, taking Jame’s hand and pecking him on each cheek before turning to Harry, heart pounding, “Hi, how are you? I’m Y/N.”

“Good, thanks, I’m Harry,” his voice was deep and muffled, trying to introduce himself with a mouth full of sandwich. He leaned in for a one-arm hug and pecked either side of her face. Once they pulled apart he had dramatically swallowed his food and smiled sheepishly, “Sorry,” he chuckled, “It’s so nice to meet you.”

“We were just talking about you,” James interrupted.

Your expression changed to one of surprise before Harry chimed in, holding a finger up and nodding, “Yeah, I’m a big fan. Salacity was incredible.”

“Oh, thank you so much,” Y/N blushed, looking between the two of them, “Well, I’m obviously a fan, too. Who isn’t?”

“Obviously, you mean me,” James joked, flicking his imaginary hair back.

The two laughed while Y/N nodded, “Obviously.”

Y/N continued on, asking James about his family, and attempted to remain calm while Harry’s overwhelming presence barely a foot beside her lingered. She could feel the warmth radiate from his side, fighting the urge not to look over at him every five seconds, though she couldn’t help but feel his eyes occasionally glance her way.

Since James was so close with both Harry and Y/N, it seemed to be easy to hold a conversation. But when James was ushered away by the crew to start prep and begin filming for his show, it left Harry and Y/N an opportunity to talk. They still had a bit before they would be called out.

“So, I heard you’ll be in the new Marvel film,” Harry turned to her.

Y/N’s mouth fell open, smirking unsurely. That news hasn’t been released yet, and as far as she was aware, not even her biggest fans knew about it. “How did you hear that?”

He grinned, looking down and then back up at her, “Uh, Alexa may have mentioned it.”

“Alexa Chung,” Y/N repeated, rolling her eyes with a smirk. Alexa Chung was a supermodel and one of Y/N’s closest friends. She shook her head, muttering, “I knew she couldn’t keep her mouth shut. Yeah, I mean the contract is still under negotiation, but it’s looking good.”

Harry smiled, “Congratulations. I’m sure it’ll be amazing. Can’t wait to see it in theatres.”

“Thank you,” Y/N nodded.

Soon they were joined with more people from the crew of The Late Late Show, as well as more people from their own team as they were told the order of operations and how things were going to run tonight. James had a few segments he had to do on his own before interviewing the two of them, then on to a game, and a small break before Harry would perform.

They listened, intently, a handful of m&m’s in her hands. She noticed Harry shifting in her peripheral and when she turned to see what he was doing, he was already looking at her, pointing at her hands and mouthing, ‘throw me one’. Y/N giggled, picking up a red chocolate candy and scanning the circle of people to make sure no one was staring at her before quickly flicking it across the circle. Harry jerked to the left, trying to catch it in his mouth, but it just bounced off of his chin and to the floor. Only one girl seemed to notice and chuckled.

Harry turned to her, mouth ajar and brows scrunched up, pretending to be indignant and mouthing, “What was that?”

“Another,” Y/N mouthed, grabbing a blue one, this time. Once again, she scanned the circle and chucked the m&m higher.

This time, Harry hardly had to move. He opened his mouth and caught it, smiling and chewing on the candy. “Nice throw,” he nodded, approvingly.

After the meeting, Y/N’s Publicist urged her back towards her private room so she could get changed. She slipped into a sexy red pantsuit that plunged down her neckline and flared at the wrists and ankles, pairing it with a pair of matching red high-heels. Again, she made her way backstage where Harry was, talking to some more people, and when they both saw each other they froze, eyes widened for a moment before their smiles turned into laughter.

He made his way over, now wearing a white button-up underneath his red suit and matching red pressed pants and red shoes. “You copied me!”

Y/N shook her head playfully, joking, “We should swap our suits mid-show and see if anyone notices.”

Harry laughed, “Yes! I can wear yours for the performance!”

The two were greeted by another crew member and led to the side of the stage where they had to remain silent. They looked at each other and back to their crew, silently shimmying and to the sound of James’ voice before their names were called and an eruption of screams and claps echoed through the air from the live studio audience.

Harry let Y/N walk out first and followed her towards the stage as they smiled and waved to the crowd before stepping up on the platform to greet James with a friendly hug and peck on the cheek, sitting side-by-side on the couch.

When the cheers died down, James turned to the two with a grin and said, “It’s great to have both of you back on the show. What is this?” he motioned towards their outfits, laughing, “You’re wearing the same outfit! Did you plan this?”

They both laughed and Harry joked, “Yeah, I rang her and asked what she was wearing and went out and bought the same exact thing.”

“I wanted to give you a heads up so you could match us, too, but Harry told me not to because you would outshine us,” Y/N played along, making James belly-laugh along with the audience.

“I was this close to being upset with you both for not including me,” James laughed, settling down, “You two have never actually met before, have you?”

“No,” they both shook their heads, looking at each other for a second with a smile, “First time.”

“That’s surprising because you both seem to have a lot of the same friends.”

Harry nodded, “Yeah, we seem to run in the same circles, but never at the same time.”

“I think he was just avoiding me, really,” Y/N nodded, making the boys laugh.

Harry chuckled, “yeah, I see her at a party and I duck behind the trash cans,” he did his best impersonation.

James laughed, turning towards Y/N, “You must have been partying a lot this past weekend after your big win.” Y/N smiled widely while the audience, along with Harry, clapped loudly. Cheers, again, echoing from the crowd. James continued, “You’re new movie, Salacity, was nominated for a bunch of awards, but you made history as the first Brazilian to win an Academy Award for Best Actress. What was that like?”

Cheers erupted again and Y/N bit her lip, nodding and looking up at everyone. This never got old. “Thank you,” Y/N grinned, turning back towards James, “Honestly, I think I blacked out when they called my name.” Everyone laughed as she continued, “It was so surreal. I’ve always dreamt of winning an Academy Award but never thought in a million years that I would be the first Brazilian to win. I’m incredibly proud and grateful and just so honored to even be in the same room as all of those talented people. I’m very lucky.”

“Well you deserved every bit of it,” James nodded, earning a voice of agreement along with more cheers from the audience, “Salacity was also nominated for Best Original Song, which was written and sung by you, is that right?”

Y/N nodded, “Yeah, Harry’s not the only talented musician here.”

Both of them laughed as jokingly threw his hands up, stood, and pretended to walk off set. When he plopped back on the couch he said, “First you steal my outfit, then you steal my job?”

“I’m so sorry. I’ll let you open for my next tour,” she joked back.

She felt silly for being so nervous when she woke up this morning. Truth is, this is one of the easiest interviews she’s done. Normally she struggled for the right words to say or with getting a feel on whether she needed to be more professional or if she could let her silly flag fly. Because she knew James so well and got along with Harry so quickly, it made things a lot easier.

They discussed Harry’s career for a bit before circling back to Y/N as James said, “Now, we had your counterpart, KJ Appa, on our show last week. Such a nice guy, by the way.”

“So sweet,” Y/N nodded in agreement as James continued.

“And he had nothing but good things to say about you. He even said that you were one of the best on-screen kisses he’s had” James admitted, making the audience awe as Y/N blushed and smiled. James carried on, “But he did mention a particularly….awkward moment between the two of you on set. Care to elaborate?”

When Y/N’s eyes widened and shifted in her seat in embarrassment, James laughed. She looked at Harry beside her to see him curious and she began to explain, “Well, as you know, Salacity is a very, uhm, how do you put it?”

“Erotic?” James offered, laughing again.

Y/N nodded, chuckling, “Yes, there’s a lot of sex scenes. So, anyway one the very first sex scene we filmed, I’m in this sexy, lacey black lingerie, basically strapped onto this harness contraption in the air and KJ’s character has to come in from behind me, but the harness that was holding my arms snapped, tore off my bra, and I was dangling by my legs upside down with hundreds of crew members watching. And KJ, the sweet guy he is, sees that my bra came off and panicked, and he jumped in, practically hugging me as I was hanging upside down to cover me. But he didn’t realize that the only thing he was wearing was this sock that covered his dick because we were just about to film this sex scene, and it was all up in my face.”

Everyone burst into laughter as Y/N explained, “That poor guy was just trying to help, but they got me down pretty quickly. But it definitely lessened the tension for the rest of filming. We got closer after that.”

“Can’t get much closer than that, can you?” Harry joked, making her laugh, as well.

When that portion of the interview had finished, cameras cut and their team had rushed over to do a few quick makeup and hair touch-ups, laughing and joking with each other about how well it was going so far. They were then directed towards a different area of the stage, sat around a table with rancid smells lingering around.

“Have you ever done this before?” Harry asked her as they were getting re-wired and James was getting prepped.

Y/N shook her head, pushing her hair behind her back and screwing up her face, “No, and I might vomit just looking at all this stuff.”

Harry nodded, “I’ve got an extra toothbrush you can have afterward.”

James came back and they were given two minutes to get situated before the cameras focused in on them. Reggie and the band played the theme song of Spill Your Guts or Fill Your Guts, while Y/N rang her fingers and Harry looked between her and James. Cheers and claps sounded and James smiled teasingly at the two.

“You both look thrilled to be doing this,” he said, sarcastically.

“Oh, yeah, can’t wait,” Harry retorted.

Y/N pursed her lips, shaking her head, “I must have been out of my mind when I agreed to this.”

They laughed as James directed their attention to the table, spinning it, “Alright, let’s see what we’ve got here. We’ve got 1,000-year-old egg, Fish eye and bird saliva, cow tongue, salmon smoothie, cow blood and pork tongue jelly, bull penis, hot dog water, which is the absolute rankest thing I’ve ever had, and giant water scorpion.”

“Why?” Y/N groaned, sitting back in her chair in disgust.

Harry chuckled and James laughed as he explained, “So here’s how this game works. We are gonna ask each other questions, okay. The questions are written here and we have not seen them. We have a choice. We can either answer these questions truthfully, or, we have to eat the food that the other person chooses. Okay?” Harry and Y/N nodded in understanding. “Alright, ladies first. Y/N, you are going to choose a food for Harry that he has to eat, should he not answer the question.”

She glanced and spun the tabletop in search of food, bending down and taking a whiff of something awful, she gagged, making them laugh, turning the tabletop until something was placed in front of him, “I’ll go with the fish eye and bird saliva.”

“That’s the one I was least looking forward to,” Harry groaned.

“Were you looking forward to any of them?” James shot back, laughing. “Alright, Y/N, what is your question for Harry.”

Y/N turned her card over in her hands and scanned it before chuckling, blushing, and looking up at him, “Harry, backstage you mentioned you were a big fan of my new movie. How much of it had to do with my sex scene, and what did you think about it?”

“Which one?” he joked, smiling, making everyone in the audience gasp and giggle.

Harry blushed, straightening out his suit, a lopsided, shy smile still stretched on his face, “Uh...I mean, even without the sex scenes it’s a brilliant movie. But, uh, yeah. They were very….Oh god,” he slapped a hand on his forehead, looking down and making the audience laugh. Y/N shook her head in amusement as he attempted to regain composure, “Yeah, they were very realistic.”

“How many times did you rewind those scenes?” James teased.

“No, no, no, that wasn’t the question. It’s my turn now,” Harry waved his finger, making everyone laugh again as the band played and Harry spun the table. “James, I’m going to give you….well, I know how much you love hot dogs, so I’m gonna give you the hot dog water.”

“You dick,” James groaned, taking a sniff and gagging, “That really, truly is the worst thing we’ve ever had on this show. Alright, then, what’s my question?”

Harry picked up the card and grinned, “James, you have had a lot of big-name celebrities on your show. Who was the biggest disappointment?”

The crowd ooed as James’ face fell, shaking his head and looking back at the producers, “Who wrote these?”

“Come on, don’t be a pussy, answer it,” Y/N joked, making everyone laugh.

James shook his head, “I can’t. I can’t,” and he picked up the shot glass and tipped it into his mouth.

Everyone gasped and he immediately reached for the bucket and spit it all out, “That is horrible!” he exclaimed, rinsing his mouth out with water, “Why do we still have that? Alright, Y/N, I am going to pick for you….” he spun the table around before grinning and halting a pink, meaty cube in front of her, “Cow blood and pork tongue jelly.”

Y/N winced, poking at the large cube and gasping, “Oh my god, why is it so hard?”

“That’s what she said,” Harry chimed, making everyone laugh.

“We all know how you feel about my movie, Harry,” shot back, making everyone burst into laughter and Harry blush.

Harry hit his face for a second before James continued, snorting, and looking up at Y/N, “Y/N, you’ve been rumored to have very famous exes. Between Timothee Chalamet, Robert Pattinson, and Taylor Zakhar Perez, rank them from best to worst in bed,” Y/N’s mouth fell as the audience gasped and laughed.

“Pattinson’s gotta be the best, hasn’t he?” Harry assumed, making Y/N hide her face.

“Now, this is not to say that any of them are bad. Maybe they're in the top three,” James suggested, “But of the top three, who is the worst,” he laughed.

Y/N uncovered her face and looked between the two men, reaching for her fork and knife.

“Oh god,” Harry winced, as James shouted, “No! No!”

She dug her fork in and sliced a corner off, “I never kiss and tell,” placing her knife down and taking a deep breath before hurriedly putting it in her mouth. The texture was what she imagined dog food tasted like, and she gagged, grabbing her tin can and spitting it in before swishing her water around in her mouth and spitting that out, as well.

“That was disgusting,” Y/N blotted her mouth with the towel.

“I can’t believe you’ve done that,” James shook his head.

“And I’m not doing it again,” she took another sip of her drink, “Is it my turn now?”

“Yeah, Y/N, you go ahead and choose something for Harry to eat if he doesn’t answer the question.”

She spun until she landed on the 1,000 year old egg. James announced what it was as Harry nodded and said, “Alright”. Y/N picked her card, turned it around, and said, “Oh, no.”

“Oh, God, what is it?” Harry sat up straighter.

“Harry,” Y/N started, “You and Niall are the only remaining members of One Direction who are not parents. Rank the members of One Direction from worst to best parents.”

Without hesitation, Harry stabbed his fork into the egg and shoved it in his mouth. Everyone gasped and Y/N pulled away, covering her face with the card and using it as a sort-of shield. He made a show out of slowly chewing it, holding back a gag. He used his water to swallow it down and stuck his tongue out to show that he had finished it.

“No way,” Y/N shook her head, nose scrunched.

“You are insane,” James shook his head.

“Tastes exactly the way you think,” Harry took another sip of water. “Right, James. I’m going to choose for you…...the water scorpion.”

“The giant water scorpion. For reference, this is what he’s chosen for me,” James picked up the stiff, hard, black bug and showed the camera. “Go on, what’s your question.”

Harry cleared his throat, picked up a card, and chuckled, “James, I’ve been on your show for years, and even taken over for you twice. Who is your favorite member of One Direction.”

A smile slowly spread on James' face and he shook his head, staring off at the audience as they screamed and laughed. “I can’t choose that,” James breathed, turning to face him.

“Well, you have to, or else you’ll be eating a giant water scorpion.”

“Oh, come on, we all know it’s not Harry,” Y/N joked, earning an amused glare from Harry.

“Excuse me,” Harry said, “I happen to know, for a fact, that it is me. Go on, James. Tell ‘em.”

“You think it’s you, do ya?” James questioned, looking between them before finally picking up the water scorpion, “You keep thinking that,” he joked before taking a bite of its head and chewing. He laughed mid-chew, spit it out in his bucket, and took another sip of water.

“How dare you,” Harry joked, indignantly.

James laughed, turning the table, “Y/N, It’s my turn to ask you a question. But first, I’m going to give you the salmon smoothie.”

“Ugh,” Y/N sniffed it’s pungent aroma, sitting away from the glass of pink, chunky fish.

She looked up at James as he scanned the card and laughed, “Y/N, you were nominated for a lot of awards this year. Who has won against you that didn’t deserve to?”

“Oh noooo,” Y/N trailed, throwing her head back, causing James and Harry to laugh.

“No, come on, we were all shocked on at least one of those categories,” James offered. Y/N shook her head, taking hold of the glass.

“Chug, chug, chug!” Harry chanted, compelling the audience to join in.

“Fuck off,” Y/N mouthed to Harry, making him laugh as she took a swig of the monstrous drink.

The second it hit her tongue, she heaved, quickly grabbing the tin and spitting the contents in as James called the end of the game. She took several sips of water, gulping it down to alleviate the lingering taste in her mouth. They called for a wrap, and Harry immediately dug out a packet of gum from his pocket, offering one to each of them while more crew rushed up to them.

Y/N thanked him, shoving the wrapper in her suit pocket, and after they were briefed from the crew, they had about fifteen minutes to spare while they set up for Harry’s performance. People from each of their teams tried to talk to them, but Y/N had something else in mind.

“Follow me,” she told him, grabbing his arm and jogging through the halls backstage. He chuckled, confused, but intrigued, following closely behind her until they reached the door of her dressing room. “Give me your suit jacket.”

Harry’s eyebrows raised and mouth formed an ‘O’, realizing what she was doing. With a grin, he unbuttoned his suit and shrugged it off, carefully handing it over to her. She shot him a smile, which made him grow steadily more keen, watching as she slipped into the room and closed the door behind her, disappearing. He waited, leaning against the wall for what seemed like a little longer than necessary for switching jackets. When she emerged wearing his jacket, his smile widened.

“Looks better on you,” he smirked.

She smiled, passing him the clump of red fabric that was her top, “Let’s see if we can say the same about you.”

He slipped his arms through the sleeves of her jacket, and although there was plenty of room in the arms because of the flare, the chest and waist were a bit tight. He made sure not to tie the sash too tightly and straightened it out, “How do I look?”

She giggled, flattening the collar of the jacket and joking, “Beautiful.”

They made their way back towards the main area of the backstage, surrounded by their teams and crew, laughing about the jacket change and prepping Harry some more as he rummaged through a small travel-sized toiletry bag for the disposable toothbrushes and toothpaste, and the two of them brushed their teeth.

Eventually, Harry was ushered to another stage where he and a band were situated. Lights dimmed and shone strategically on him as he was announced and began to play. Y/N, never having been to a Harry Styles concert, and a fan of his music, watched from the side of the stage, arms crossed and leaning against a large black case of some sort. He looked over at her a couple of times, trying to hide a coy smile, he danced around the stage and used the sash on her jacket like a rope, swinging it around.

When he finally finished, she, along with the studio audience, clapped and cheered for him. He thanked them, clasping his hands and bowing a few times, humbly repeating, “Thank you,” while James announced it was a wrap. Y/N joined Harry on the stage where the two of them, along with James, greeted people in the audience, signing pictures, papers, and phone cases, just chatting with the fans and taking selfies with them.

James, Harry, Y/N, and their publicists spent about an hour and a half to two hours after the taping to sit down at a nearby restaurant for a bite to eat. They were seated at a private table, enjoying some more banter and fun. She had a feeling that Harry was flirting with her, or maybe she was just hoping he was. He started it off by sneakily stealing bits of fries off of her plate throughout the meal as he sat across from her, and she would reciprocate by ‘accidentally’ stepping on his toes under the table.

“Hope I didn’t scuff those Gucci loafers,” she winked, smirking.

As much as she didn’t want the night to end, there weren't many excuses she could make to prolong the conversation, and everyone else was very clearly tired aside from the two of them. Y/N stayed towards the back of the group as they made their way back outside, and Harry slowed his pace and hung back until he was walking side-by-side with Y/N.

“I guess I should give this back to you,” he slipped the jacket off of him as they exited through the back, letting the cool LA air swirl on their faces.

Everyone was giving hugs and saying their goodbyes. Y/N looked down at her jacket in his hand and she leaned in to kiss either side of his face, lingering a little longer than normal. When she pulled away she shook her head and lightly pushed the jacket back towards him, “No. Keep it. An excuse to see you again.” And as she began walking backward to join her group, she called out, “check the pockets.”

His toothy smile turned into a furrowed eyebrow. Confused, he dug his hand in either pocket of the jacket until he pulled out what looked to be the gum wrapper. But, upon closer inspection, he noticed a series of numbers written in black ink. Her phone number. He looked up just in time to see Y/N opening a car door.

“Call me!” she shouted, smirking, before getting in and closing the door.

Harry’s smile grew even more, clutching the red jacket tighter and slinging it over his shoulder, making sure to carefully store the gum wrapper in his wallet and watching as her car drove off down the street and out of view.

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@odetostep @mylittleangel9403 @thurhomish @fallingfordolans @gwenlovesharrystyles , @harryswinterberries, @gucciboots, @golden-grande, @mylittleangel9403 @korlynn-grace @ilovedogs1989 @aalessandrabarboni

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1plus1kiyoomi · 4 years ago

Text

Chapter 7: Boyfriend Recommendation

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It has been 2 months since you moved to Hyogo. In those 2 months, it’s safe to say that you and Kita have gotten pretty close. You didn’t develop a romantic dynamic, but it certainly isn’t platonic either, considering how vocal you are about liking him.

Kita allows you to tease him and do pretty much anything you want as long as you don’t cross the line he never mentioned, but you know is there. It’s all fun and jokes between the two of you, or at least you’re enjoying. You’re not really sure about Kita’s feelings. He never reacts or reciprocates to your actions.

On Kita’s side, he’s not really sure about you. There are times he feels like he likes you, but then the contrast of your personalities make him question your compatibility as a couple, if ever you become one. He just can’t imagine dating someones like you: extravagant, outgoing, impulsive, sometimes childish. His heart is telling him to go for it, but his mind is just so hesitant.

The only thing you have in common is Rice. That’s it. You both own Rice. But even how you raise the dog is conflicting.

He wants Rice to sleep in the living room? You want Rice to sleep in your room.

He wants Rice to eat less food because the dog’s getting fat? You feed him more and give unnecessary snacks.

For the meantime, your relationship label is: Rice’s parents.

“Rice, come here,” you call the dog, patting the space in between your legs. “Wanna join me in today’s live?” Rice barks as a response and excitedly goes between your legs. He doesn’t understand what you’re saying, but the way you’re patting the mat is making his tail wag.

You go to your Instagram and start a live. A few seconds later, you see people coming in so you greet them. “Hello everyone! Did you have a nice day? Ohh... Some of you are still at cram school. Then why are you watching my live? Shouldn’t you be studying?”

You continue to go on live, showing your viewers what Rice has learned in the span of two months. Sit, down, roll, play dead, paw, other paw, nose: those are all you’ve taught him. Kita taught him the more practical tricks. Like, get your bowl, go to your bed, stay, wait, don’t go out. Sometimes, when you go to school, Rice goes to the fields with Kita and help him carry his towel.

“Can you do the my boyfriend does my makeup challenge?” You read, making you laugh. “I love the video recommendation but can you also recommend a boyfriend?”

You see names pop up in the replies but you don’t actually mind them. You look for questions but you just see names, so you decide to end the video like that. “I have to go now. I will consider your recommendation hahaha. Bye!”

Turning the live off, you hear the door open. Rice hears it, too, so he excitedly runs to your door, waiting for you to open it. “Dad’s here? Are you excited?” Rice barks so you rise from your bed and open the door for him. He runs to the front door and you wait for Kita at the living room.

“Hi,” you greet him with your usual smile. He ignores you and heads to the kitchen, holding Rice in his arms. “Why does he look mad?” You mutter to yourself. You follow him in the kitchen, linking your arms with his. “Bad day?”

He humms then shakes you off. You pout. You hug him from behind this time and he lets you stay like that, knowing you won’t give up on your tactics. “I watched your live,” he speaks up after a long moment of silence.

“All of it?” You ask him, burying your face on his back. You take in his scent and sigh in satisfaction. He smells really fresh despite staying under the sun the whole day. He smells like home. “Did you enjoy it?”

“Let’s do the makeup challenge your fans suggested,” he suddenly tells you, ignoring your question. You let go of him and pinch his side, but he still doesn’t give you a reaction.

You cross your arms, leaning on the counter top behind you. “No.” You reject his offer and he faces you with his stone ace.

“Is it because I’m not your boyfriend?” He raises an eyebrow.

You shake your head. “You don’t even like being in front of the camera. Why would you film a video with me?”

He dodges your question again. “I can hide my face from the frame.”

“You are acting suspicious right now,” you furrowed your eyebrows, eyes squiented. “What’s the catch?”

“Nothing. You just get new content,” Kita answers which Rice barks at. “See? Even Rice agrees.”

“Are you sure you’re okay about filming? What even went in your mind that you’re suddenly on board about this makeup challenge?” You chuckle, not believing what’s happening. Kita hates being filmed. He doesn’t even want his pictures to be taken. He’s private like that.

“The boyfriend recommendations,” he mumbles quickly as he turns so you don’t hear him. “Nothing. Just felt like it.”

After a lot of thinking you finally say yes to him. You set up the camera in your room, the screen hidden from you. The mirror is also covered with a piece of cloth so Kita can surprise you with the look he’s going to do on you. He finally enters your room in his matching cotton maroon pajama pants and sweats.

“I have a nightgown that matches yours! I wanna wear it, too!” You excitedly tell him, shoving him out of the room so you can change.

After changing into a plain silk slip on dress in the same shade, you call him to come back in. He stops at the doorway as he sees you. The way you look so simple yet so attractive causes blood to rush on his face and somewhere else in his lower body. He won’t admit the latter, but he can feel it.

“Want to start filming?” You ask him, not noticing his red ears. He nods at you and stands at the side, waiting for a signal for him to come in the frame.

You do your usual introduction then finally explain what’s going to happen in the video. “So for today’s video, I will do a challenge that has been requested a lot and for a very long time now. Today I will be doing the ‘boyfriend does my makeup’ challenge. But the man in this film is not my boyfriend. I want to clarify that before you jump to conclusions. He’s...” you take a glance at him and he’s looking at you nonchalantly so you feel shy. “Umm... he’s the other parent of Rice. We are co-parenting Rice. I guess you can say that we are good friends.”

Kita finally enters the frame, but only his shoulder to hip can be seen in the camera. “What do I call you?” You ask him and he just shrugs. You smile, an idea popping into you’re mind. “I’ll call you baby.”

“No,” he firmly says, but you just stick your tongue out to him. He looks down at you, then gulps. The sexual tension between the two of you is growing, and you’re aware. You have fun teasing Kita because you know he won’t do anything about it, which is something that made you fall deeper for him.

“Whatever, baby,” you giggle. He pinches your cheek in irritation so you whine jokingly. You go back to recording and leave the fate of your face on the man beside you. “So we will now start the challenge. Baby, go on.”

Kita does a sarcastic gagging face at the nickname before he goes through your makeup box. He picks up a random sponge and foundation. “Is this right?” He asks you but you don’t answer him. “Wait, you really don’t help me even just a bit?”

“No, baby,” you tell him. The nickname coming out of your mouth sounds so natural. He likes it, but he won’t tell you that, but he won’t stop you from calling him that either.

“If you turn out ugly after this, it’s your face’s fault,” he says in a serious tone so you jokingly punch his side. He puts an amount of liquid foundation on your forehead, and you feel it drip down the nose of your bridge. “I don’t think I’m doing this right.”

After doing your foundation, he grabs an eyeliner. “Already?” You chuckle and he puts it back on the table. He takes a contour palette and confidently grabs an eyeshadow brush. He does random strokes on your eyelids, lowkey scaring you.

He stares at you intensely before looking away with a disappointed look on your face. “Baby, what did you do?”

“Wait, I think this will fix it.” Kita takes the eyeliner again so you close your eyes, allowing him to draw on your lids. “It doesn’t look that bad with your eyes closed.”

“Should I just close my eyes the whole time?” You snort. You hear him say open, so you look up to him, your eyes meeting his. He takes his lower lip in between his lips, concentrating on your lids. ‘May all the gods help me not do anything to this man.’

He continued doing your makeup in silence, while you do almost all of the talking, asking him the most random questions which he answers calmly despite how weird the question may get.

“Baby, if a cockroach lands on a soap, will the cockroach be cleaned or will the soap be dirty?”

“You know what (Y/N), this is by far the most stupid question you’ve asked, not just in this video but ever since we’ve met.”

Kita is putting mascara on you when you suddenly open your eyes, causing him to poke the stick in your eye. You groan in pain so he drops the mascara on the table and attends to you.

“Baby, are you okay? Let me see.” He grabs both of your cheeks, and checks your reddening eye. The pain has subsided due to him calling you baby. He blows on your eyes, his face getting closer to you.

“Baby, huh?” You mock and he rolls his eyes at you. He continues to do your makeup, being extra careful this time.

“I think we’re done,” he says after putting wand of the lipgloss back on. He takes a look at you and chuckles.

“How bad is it?” You ask him in worry.

“Don’t you trust me?” He pouts and you shake your head. He puts his hand on top of your head, and shakes it gently, making you laugh. “You’re so annoying.”

“You like me like that!”

‘I do.’

Kita finally removes the cloth from the mirror so you see yourself. You gasp, not expecting Kita to do a good job. It’s not the best, but it’s something you can wear out. It’s simple but somehow looks so elegant. Just like Kita.

“You did a really good job.” You smile at him. You start filming for the outro of your video after that.

After doing the outro, Kita just stands there and looks at you. “What?” You chuckle, looking his way.

“Nothing. You look good,” he replies, making you a flustered mess.

“Stop saying that. I won’t be able to resist and kiss you,” you threaten him with a pout.

He shrugs. “Go for it.”

Heat spreads across your face from his words. You scream in frustration and he just chuckles. Kita walks closer to you while you hide your blushing face in the palm of your hands. “Don’t move any closer. I swear I will do it.”

“I told you already, go for it.” He bends down to your sitting height, but you look away. “This is the only time I will allow you to do it.”

You remove your hands away from your face, then you see that Kita’s face is close to yours. “What is with you today?” You groan, turning your back on him.

Kita spins your chair to make you face him again. “I don’t know. The jealousy and your nightgown I guess.”

“What?” You stutter, not comprehending his words.

Before you can even ask what he means, Kita’s lips are already on top of yours. Your eyes widen in shock, not processing anything. A few moments later, you give in to his lips. And at that same time, he pulls away, leaving you disappointed.

“Good night, baby.”

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Note: Just a short update because school and work are taking so much of my time skskksksks hopefully I get to go back to my daily updates after hell week :|

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#haikyuu smau #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu series #kita shinsuke smau #kita shinsuke x reader #kita imagines #kita x reader #kita smau #haikyuu kita #kita shinsuke

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becomewings · 4 years ago

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BTS Universe Timeline

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INTRODUCTION

The goal of this guide is to chronologically map the major plot points of BTS Universe (BU), a fictional transmedia narrative centered on the lives of seven young men who share names with the members portraying them. The complexity of the timeline is magnified by the time loops that begin and reset on 11 April Year 22, so careful attention will be given to tracing how the loops diverge from one another after that date. The guide will be published over multiple posts.

Most of the information in the timeline is drawn from the official English-version publications of The Notes: The Most Beautiful Moment in Life 1 and The Notes: The Most Beautiful Moment in Life 2 (hereafter shortened to Notes 1 and Notes 2). Other resources are referenced as necessary, including the Notes released with certain physical albums, the Save Me webtoon, the official BU content in the BTS Universe Story mobile game, and BU music videos/short films. Summaries from the album Notes are based on translations by twitter user @/origamifirefly. Character names are abbreviated in parentheses next to the print sources to indicate the perspective from which the original entries are written.

Dates are presented as they appear in the texts. The single or double-digit year number most likely corresponds with SeokJin’s age rather than a calendar year. (In Korea’s age-calculating system, everyone’s age increases by one year on January 1st regardless of when their birthday falls in the calendar.) There are enough clues scattered throughout the text to suggest that the characters’ ages reflect the real-life age differences of the members. For example, JungKook is five years younger than SeokJin; they overlap in high school because SeokJin is held back a grade after returning from the American school system. Ages that are explicitly stated in official sources will be included in the timeline whenever possible.

BTS Universe deals with many difficult and potentially triggering themes, so please read the content warning in the Timeline Guide before proceeding. The Guide section will be included on all future posts for quick reference.

TIMELINE GUIDE

Content warning: contains references to death, suicide, suicidal ideation, child abuse, domestic violence, blood, homicide, depression, trauma, PTSD

This guide contains major spoilers from all BU media

Revisions and additions will be made as necessary, so please visit the original post for the most up-to-date version (update log is included at bottom of post)

All names are provided as fully as known

Bracketed dates are inferred or calculated from references in the text

While the timeline is presented here as objectively as possible, I acknowledge that there is a level of subjectivity in choosing which information is significant enough for inclusion and in certain connections drawn between entries

Please inform me of any suspected errors; I will investigate and correct them

Do not repost, copy, or quote without permission

Shadows of Our Childhoods

- Beginning through Year 18 -

[Year 9]

Jung HoSeok (age 7) is abandoned by his mother at an amusement park and moves into an orphanage. His age is referenced in his 31 May Year 22 entry from Notes: Her.

The earliest entry of the Notes published so far is HoSeok’s 30 August Year 9 (Notes: 7). Some older boys wake him up at night, and he reluctantly sneaks up to the rooftop with them. Fireworks explode in the sky. HoSeok is shocked at first and then entranced. The older boys tease him for crying, but he can’t stop the tears.

Note: It’s reasonable to assume that this unidentified rooftop location is the orphanage HoSeok grows up in. Therefore, his mother left him sometime before 30 August—possibly that summer, due to his unexplained tears.

10 October Year 9 Notes 1 (SJ)

Kim SeokJin (age 9) runs away from school with a friend to protect him from men who want to use him as leverage to get money from his father, Mr. Choi, who disappeared after his company shut down. SeokJin tries to hide the friend in his room at home, but his father, Kim ChangJun, arrives with one of the men and allows him to take the boy away. ChangJun tells SeokJin to be a “good kid.” The friend never returns to school.

Note: SeokJin’s age is specified in BTS Universe Story: The Boy on the Threshold, ep.3.

28 February Year 10 Notes: 7 (TH)

Kim TaeHyung encounters an older boy feeding the dog that he frequently plays with outside of the supermarket. He tells the boy that when his father earns a lot of money and moves their family into a big house, he can take the dog and raise him. After TaeHyung presses him a second time, the boy reveals that his name is Kim SeokJin.

23 July Year 10 Notes 1 (HS)

While counting in front of his class, HoSeok recalls the day at the amusement park when his mother handed him a chocolate bar and told him to close his eyes and count to ten. He feels like she will never come looking for him if he finishes counting to ten, and then he collapses.

Note: His mother abandoned him at the amusement park when he was seven (Year 9).

29 December Year 10 Notes 1 (TH)

TaeHyung’s father returns home drunk and disheveled after an absence and abuses him for the first time.

6 April Year 11 Related post: The Arboretum Notes 1 (JM)

Park JiMin (age 8) visits the Grass Flower Arboretum on a school picnic day. While his classmates are all accompanied by their mothers, his own parents are too busy to make it. At the end of the trip, he ignores his teacher’s call to wait and tries to walk home alone. With only his backpack in hand, he is caught in a torrential downpour and seeks shelter in a small warehouse near the back gate. JiMin wakes up in a hospital after he is found unconscious in the arboretum with no memory of what happened. He develops seizures as a result of this unnamed trauma and is frequently hospitalized as he grows up.

Note: This day is also referenced in his entries for 11 May, 19 May, and 4 July of Year 22; the lattermost specifies his age.

Notes 2 (JM)

JiMin reflects on what really transpired at the arboretum in his 12 August Year 22 entry, which also reveals that his memory returned due to a chance encounter on 15 September Year 20. Inside the dark and cluttered warehouse, young JiMin falls asleep and is awoken by an iron door clanging shut and the sound of someone breathing. He discovers an interior room and creeps closer. A small, pale hand appears on the other side, startling him. Someone whistles outside and opens the warehouse door. He hides under a desk and watches a man enter the interior room. Through the man’s legs, JiMin can see a small boy lying on the floor with bruised arms and legs and scars on his wrists from being tied up too long. Their eyes briefly meet. JiMin senses that he is asking for help. The man turns around, and the boy stabs his thigh with a boxcutter before he notices JiMin hiding. The man disarms the boy and slams the door shut. JiMin escapes the warehouse under the cover of the violent noises within. No one is around to help. He runs through the pouring rain and mud, frequently falling and scraping his knees. He collapses at the back gate with an image of the boy’s bleeding hand in his mind. He wakes up at the hospital surrounded by his parents, a doctor, and a nurse. They question him about what happened, but JiMin does not remember.

Note: In the same 12 August Year 22 entry, JiMin explains that he conducted research online into the incident. He learned that the boy’s family name is Choi, he was five at the time, and he was discovered near Hwayong Mountain on April 10 suffering from temporary amnesia caused by shock. JiMin could not find any follow-up articles on the police investigation. Additionally, he reveals the real cause of his seizure at the bus stop on 15 September Year 20: he saw the same boy in the window of the Grass Flower Arboretum shuttle bus. “His empty eyes no longer spoke” to JiMin.

21 July Year 12 Notes 1 (SJ)

After his mother’s death, SeokJin is sent by his father to live with his maternal grandmother in the U.S. (The city is specified as Los Angeles in his 1 February Year 22 entry from Notes: 7.) His father breaks his promise to see him off at the airport.

30 September Year 12 Notes: 7 (JK)

Jeon JungKook (age 7) slips through a crowd of people surrounding a massive sinkhole, wanting to see what’s inside of it. Dirt crumbles beneath his sneaker and he almost loses his balance at the edge. When he steps back, he sees something that is both like a light and another hole inside the hole.

Note: Compare to his Notes 2 Epilogue, XX XX Year XX, when he sees a bottomless hole below and the moon (or “a big hole in the sky”) above where he floats.

[Winter Year 12] Notes 1 (JK)

JungKook (age 7) overhears his father telling his mother that the world “was too heavy for him to bear” and that “there’s nothing he can do for JungKook.” He leaves their family forever.

Note: I calculated this season/year from his 11 September Year 17 entry, in which JungKook has waited ten days to receive a birthday card from his father; he has four cards saved in a drawer. (This also matches his real-life age difference with Jin.) He reflects on his father leaving him during the winter when he was 7 years old. He believes: “I was the world that was too heavy for him to bear—that world that he gave up on. A child who can never be the reason to endure it all. That was me.”

21 May Year 15 Notes: 7 (NJ)

Kim NamJoon returns home late from playing with his friends. The house is unusually dark and empty, giving him a chilling sense of foreboding. The phone rings and he senses that if he answers it, his life will forever change.

Note: It is likely that this is one of the times, if not the first time, his father is hospitalized due to a serious illness. About a year later, in his 21 June Year 16 entry of Notes 1, NamJoon describes how he coaxed his boss to hire a middle school student to post flyers. His family struggles financially with his father’s hospital bills and their overdue utilities.

19 September Year 16 Notes 1 (YG)

Min YoonGi arrives home and finds it devoured by flames. Frozen, he thinks of his mom and watches the house collapse. A neighbor asks him if his mom is inside, and he answers “no” without thinking. YoonGi’s mother dies in the fire.

Note: Some people suspect that YoonGi’s mother set the fire deliberately. In episode 6 of the Save Me webtoon, YoonGi recalls his father warning him against pursuing music unless he wants to “go crazy and kill [himself] like [his] mom did.”

2 May Year 18 Notes: Persona (NJ)

NamJoon and his father return home from the hospital to see the family’s belongings piled outside. They were evicted after his younger brother NamHyeon got in a fight with the landlord’s son who came to collect their overdue rent. The owner of the local supermarket allows them to move into its storage room. Exhausted, NamJoon snaps when his mother frets and asks where his brother is. The supermarket owner gives him a can of beer. In a later Notes 2 entry, he reflects that he was probably 16 at the time.

Note: On 18 June Year 22 in the Notes 2 timeline, NamJoon recounts this story to SeokJin at a street pub as a preface to asking when SeokJin drank alcohol for the first time, testing his memory.

----------------------------------------------------------

Update Log

Posted January 13, 2021

Linked to next part added May 5, 2021

Do not repost.

296 notes · View notes

yeojaa · 4 years ago

Text

( SOMETHING COMFORTING. )

Jeon Jungkook loves Overwatch, drinking games, and Halloween. What he loves more than that? You.

pairing. gamer!jjk x named f!reader.

genre + rating. idol!au set in room filled with bunnies and a cotton candy machine that’s exploded. it’s just that fluffy. (but also explicit cause why not.)

tags / warnings. established relationship, gaming (overwatch), dorky weeb references, mentions of drinking, yugyeom makes an appearance (!!), fingering, soft soft soft love making in the shower.

wc. 9.7k

beta reader(s). the lovely @kerikaaria read through this to make sure i didn’t get too nerdy. tysm! 💛 i may like further changes once my beloved @hobi-gif gets her hands on it but i’m a potato who wanted to post this quickly. oops...

author note. this fulfills the “jeon jungkook” square of @btsholidaybingo‘s bts holiday bingo 2020 and this is the couple from angels & airwaves. while this story isn’t super plot-driven, it’s meant to be a little peek into the lives of a couple that live in my mind rent-free and continue to make me soft and gooey inside. i hope you enjoy it!

You don’t know how he talked you into it or how it really happened. You remember, faintly, the mention of a party. Something about it being a small thing - just a few close friends, the members, etc. He’d said it so offhand, like commenting on the sky or asking for another package of Choco Boys, so you hadn't given it a second thought. If it was important, he’d bring it up again and if not, well, you hardly remembered it anyway. Win-win or whatever.

So you’d given up some intelligence points, traded them for space to fit more gaming knowledge. Somewhere along the line went your memory too - the conversation wiped from your brain like Will Smith had lasered it clean.

“Zarya’s one! Zarya’s one—“ You’re not sure how many times you can repeat yourself, shrieking through comms to a team that doesn’t seem to want to listen. You’re blasted into oblivion, Mercy’s prone body launched across the map as you watch your Rein fall too. There’s an irritation bubbling in your stomach, fizzing uncomfortably like the Japanese honeydew soda you’d had at lunch. “Zarya’s actually one!”

No one cares. She’s healed by the time you respawn and make it back across the map.

“Jesus—“ Your push-to-talk remains off for that flippant comment, distaste colouring your words a bitter shade of blue. You almost want to let your Ashe get headshot by the enemy Widow, only switching the stream from damage boosting to healing when your teammate starts spamming their hotkey.

I need healing! I need healing!

What you need is a team that listens to your calls or at the very least communicates in some way. Doesn’t seem like it’s going to happen though. There’s near radio silence in the voice chat, the only other person remotely helpful being your bouncing booping Lucio that’s trying to keep a flanking Tracer off point. Stupid. You almost feel bad for him, Guardian Angeling to him when no one else seems to want to offer any support.

Ah, the life of a support player in masters ranked. So infuriating and yet— nope. Just infuriating.

You lose the first round with 1:56 to spare, to no one’s surprise. Okay, maybe to your Reinhardt’s surprise. He’s being surprisingly chipper in text chat, sending WP and a dorky smiley face. You think he must volunteer at the local animal shelter and buy coffee for the people behind him in the drive-thru. He’s far too well-adjusted, not shooting off a single accusation to anyone on the team. A silver lining, you suppose.

Your second round starts well enough. Your comp is solid - as much as it can be in the current off-tank dominated meta. Hog, Zarya, a private profiled GM Widowmaker, Tracer, Lucio, and you as Ana. You’d prefer to play Mercy - find the most comfort in her skill set - but on an attack map, you’re not risking a headshot right out of spawn. Broken maximum damage good stuff means healers are squishy and you don’t have your usual DPS to boost. (He’s off doing god knows what - maybe filming an ad for Samsung or breaking the internet with his permed man bun.)

You make it through the choke without much ado. The enemy Rein is wildly out of position, eager to make some big brained play that goes terribly wrong. Your Lucio chuckles through voice and you join him, tossing a nade when your Zarya looks like she’s about to die to a poorly executed 360 shatter.

“You winning?”

It’s your boyfriend peeking over your shoulder, so close you nearly scream, mouse launched across your desk with the intensity of your reaction. You hadn’t heard him come in, the stupid sneaky bastard as quiet as a mouse.

(It’s not your own fault. He knows you can’t hear anything when you’ve got your headphones on, the noise cancelling in your state of the art Sennheisers not something to scoff at.)

“Jeez, Kook!” You want to be more mad. Really, you do. You’re scrambling across your desk to retrieve your mouse, squeaking a quick apology into team voice when your hero stays in one place for too long. Luckily, Hog - previously sweet kind Rein - throws his big fat piggy self directly in front of you, effectively saving you from an otherwise miserable death at the hands of Torbjorn.

“What?” Jeon Jungkook has the audacity to look scandalised, shiny eyes so wide and innocent they feel more as if they belong in an early 2000s anime.

You’re not even looking at him when you huff - too invested in your Overwatch game to give him the hell he deserves. All you manage is a swift don’t scare me like that! as you pump your tanks back to full health.

You notice Jungkook hasn’t moved away, still peering curiously over your shoulder. You know he hasn’t had much time to play lately, too involved with appearances for their comeback, his schedule too packed even for you some days. You don’t blame him when he pulls his chair up behind you, rolling into place so he’s just within your periphery.

It’s a little distracting; he smells good, like his - and by extension your - favourite laundry detergent and a fruity, nectarine-heavy shampoo you’d picked up for him when he’d run out of his usual. You notice then that his hair is wet, just the wrong-side of too damp with droplets beading over his neck. Moisture soaks into the top of his shirt and you think it might be more soaked than you can see; it’s hard to tell when it’s a jet black shirt, one of the many he keeps in your closet for the nights he stays over. You realise then that he must’ve been home far longer than you’d thought, if his freshly washed pink cheeks are any indication. (Because he takes seriously long showers, nearly doubling your water bill in the year you’ve been together.)

You want to ask what he’s doing here - you’d sworn he was busy for the next few days - but can’t find the adequate brain power to do so. You’re playing an incredibly high skill character (your words) and if you don’t get this goddamn shot on your Lucio to keep him up, your team is going to die (your ego’s words).

‘Ask Kook about his day’ gets scribbled on a paper on the desk in your head and filed away under To Do Later in your overflowing brainiac filing cabinet.

“Can we pleaaaaase focus their Zarya? She has grav.” Though you offer the tidbit of information, you don’t assume it’s going to be relied upon. Your team is well on their way to taking first point - surprisingly - and there’s still nearly three minutes left on the clock. If the six of you idiots can keep it together and kill that goddamn Zarya, there’s no doubt in your mind you’ll win the game.

Alas, fate is but a cruel mistress and said Zarya gets said grav off, sucking your own Russian tank and Tracer-turned-Soldier into her hell void. Not even your well-timed nade can save them from the Genji that dragon blades directly into their faces. Your poor Lucio dies to the same ult and you imagine you or your Widow are next. Your Hog’s just respawning, his lumbering silhouette not even on screen.

“Rip,” says your boyfriend - like the sound, not the letters - from beside you, a droplet of water splashing across your wrist when he shakes his head. He looks disappointed - as if he’s the one that’s lost the match. It makes you laugh, the sound tripping off your tongue despite the overwhelming rage you’re currently battling.

“Rip is right,” you mumble back, tossing yourself off the map. If you’re gonna die, it'll be on your own terms. Jungkook chuckles at that.

By the time you respawn, both you and Widow are joining a fight that looks like it’s going surprisingly well. There’s no one on point and you’re capping uncontested. Widow even headshots a wayward Moira.

“You should go top left.”

You don’t turn your head. Jungkook’s always been a bit of a backseat gamer, whether he’s watching your stream while he’s out of town or sitting right beside you. Sometimes, you love it; other times, you hate it. Most times, though, he’s right. He has surprisingly good game sense, despite being lower ranked than you (something you remind him of constantly, without shame).

“Can we go top left?” You parrot into your speaker.

For once, your team listens, most of them running up the sidewall with Widow right down main. Not for the first time you wish you were playing Mercy, if only to be able to damage boost your sniper while she distracts the enemy team. Still, you make due, taking your boyfriend’s next piece of advice when it comes, unsolicited. “You should be back right by the stairs. You can see up the hall and still heal Widow on top.”

You’d kiss him if you weren’t so intently focused, unable to tear your gaze from the screen when the enemy team seems to pluck their strategy directly from Jungkook’s skull and hold conservatively on point. Amazing.

“Your Zarya has grav. She’ll probably throw it on point so you should nade as soon as you get in and Widow can pick them off without full charge.”

If he were anyone else, you’d probably be giving him hell for mansplaining your favourite game to you. As it stands, you follow his instructions to the letter and the Team Kill marker flashes across your screen.

“Told you,” he quips, ever the snooty dork you adore.

“I was going to say thank you.” Just not right now. You can’t multitask quite like he can.

If you could look over, you think you’d see him grinning from ear to ear, buck teeth and dimples on full display. “I know.”

As it stands, the other team has trouble getting on point fast enough and you’re left with a whopping 3:56 left on the clock. Thank freaking god. You can win this, you think. Easy. No problem.

“Go Ana on defense.” At some point, Jungkook had gotten up to find a snack and he returns now, bag of shrimp chips in his hand and packet of matcha Pocky held between his teeth. You open your mouth for a stinky tasty treat and he shoves four crisps in, unceremoniously and with his signature dummy grin.

You manage to crunch crunch crunch through it all but shoot him a glare the entire time. He only smiles wider, all perfectly white enamel and enough cuteness to make your heart skip a beat.

“Do you just want to play?” You don’t mean it seriously. You don’t mind him watching and you know he enjoys pretending like he’s better than you. It’s a strange give and take but one that’s uniquely yours, built over nearly a year of online friendship and another year of a real-life relationship.

“Nah, I’m snacking.” He punctuates his response as a child would, shoving a handful of chips into his mouth. You wonder, briefly, why you love him so much when he’s a certifiable goon.

The third match begins and you’re not too proud to say you spend most of it following Jungkook’s directions. He tells you to sleep the enemy Genji trying to scale the right wall - you do. He tells you to nade once their Rein gets in because your own Rein is going to shatter - you do. He tells you to do the macarena and— okay, that, you don’t.

You sweep the match, leaving the other team without a single tick.

When it comes to the final round, he seems to have lost interest in the game, instead rolling himself back to his computer with a parting, wayward ruffle of your hair. You don’t blame him but you thank him nonetheless, blowing a kiss before he settles his headphones over his ears.

You, of course and unsurprisingly, win the game. There’s nothing like using a Sym portal onto point when they’ve got a Bastion set up off point and no shield to protect him from the back.

Satisfied, you don’t bother requeueing and instead force yourself into your boyfriend’s personal space, draping your arms across the idol’s neck as he scrolls through YouTube like a zombie. “We won,” you sing-song into his ear, proud and a little smug.

“Of course you did.” He sounds equally smug and you suppose the win does belong to the both of you. He’d been a great coach.

“What’re you doing here?” It’s pure curiosity offered in the form of a kiss to his cheek, fingers locked across the broad expanse of his chest. He’s delightfully warm beneath you, familiar and unyielding as you sink over the back of his computer chair. (You can feel the chair creaking as it reclines. You don’t care.)

“Whaddya mean?”

The look he levels you with makes you think you’ve grown a second head.

“Your schedule said you had a thing tonight.” You remember, because you’d been disappointed. Halloween was one of your favourite holidays and all you’d wanted was to watch some campy horror movies and use him as a personal eye shield and security blanket combo.

“We have a thing,” he states, like he’s talking to a moron. You know it isn’t meant meanly, too emphatic and amused to hurt your feelings.

When you echo his words (“We?”) you swear you see him roll his eyes in the reflection of his computer screen. Luckily, he laughs, sweet and cracky, somewhere high in his throat - a barking hyena. It’s so cute - your favourite thing in the world - that you don’t have it in you to shame him for it.

“Yeah, we,” Jungkook repeats around something close to a snicker. “Halloween party, baby. Seriously— you forgot?”

It’s then and there you have two crises: (a) you don’t have a costume and (b) Halloween party? You didn’t think idols had those. Weren’t they all too hip and cool to get together to dress up and act stupid?

(You know the answer is no. Exhibit A being the costume-wearing dance practices BTS put out.)

“I don’t have anything to wear.” It’s truly the one thing holding you back, creasing the soft skin between your brows to resemble a peach. It’s also nearing seven in the evening and you’re absolutely certain you’re not going to find something so late in the day.

To your surprise. Jungkook looks flabbergasted, that same you-have-two-heads stare wrought across his face. It’d be endearing if it were directed at anyone else but with it trained on you, it’s rubbing you and your confusion the wrong way. Why’s he looking at you like that? Why’s your memory so bad? Why hasn’t he said anything to answer all of life’s questions?

“You said you’d go as witch Mercy.”

All at once, you’re pulled back to the offhand conversation, the pleading in his eyes, your half-asleep acceptance. It’s the memory you’d lost somewhere along the way in upgrading your in-brain video game storage. A conversation had in bed, his cheeks so big and full of joy they’d waned his eyes into crescents, and your uncoordinated answer because you’d just wanted to go to sleep and not think about anything after indulging in a few too many mochi cream buns.

“I— don’t remember that.” You’re lying through your damn teeth. Your parents would be devastated, all their hard earned money wasted on the braces-straightened enamel that was now letting lies pass.

“But you did!” He’s like a kid being denied candy, rounded bottom lip dropping into a pout that should, frankly, be illegal. It’s far too powerful on him, paired with those Bambi eyes that scream don’t eat (hate/deny/etc.) me! You can only scowl at him, because you know your own puppy dog eyes only work 100% of the time half of the time whereas his track record was immaculate.

“Okay, but I forgot to get the—“

“I have it!”

Jeon Jungkook has an answer for everything, it seems.

“I picked it up on the way here. It’s in your room along with my costume.”

The knowledge of his own intrigues you, squarely centring your curiosity on that and not the fact that you apparently need to get tested for early onset dementia. “Who’re you going as?”

“You’ll see.”

Your costume is spectacular. You can’t even find it in yourself to put up much of a fight when your boyfriend reveals it like you’ve won the lottery, throwing his arms wide in a flourish.

It’s incredibly well made, intricately tailored in a way that makes you worry how much it costs. (When you bring it up to him, Jungkook simply shrugs. You think it’s as much a gift for you as it is for him.) It’s witchy and eye-catching, the belt hung across your hips clipped with an actual book - hollowed out, thank god but also poor thing. The hat that sits on your head is neatly crumpled, sitting at such an angle you worry whether you’ll need to avoid too-low door frames. Your wings - well, you’re almost too afraid to touch them; Jungkook has to help you pull them over your arms, falling into near hysterics when you twitch your elbow the wrong way and smack him right between the eyes.

“I don’t think I can pull this off,” you state, somberly, despite the fact that you’re not terribly self-conscious. (You were, once. Being in a relationship with someone that worships your body has helped with that.)

The top of your outfit is fitted, boned and ribbed and snapped together in all the right places. Leather stands in stark contrast to your skin - summer-soft and gently golden - and hugs curves that don’t quite exist, falling short in a way that has you glaring down at your own chest. You’ve never wanted a Playboy body but in this sort of costume, it practically demands it. (You try not to dwell on the fact that you’ve been conditioned to want to look like an impractically designed video game hero.)

From the foot of your bed comes a snort, a derisive sound that draws your attention. Jungkook’s unabashed in how he admires you, stare roving over every inch like he’s about to devour you. You’re not sure how you can feel so soft for him when he looks completely the opposite, jaw set and expression sharp. A Greek god carved from hardened honey, dressed in Balenciaga blue. “You look great, angel.”

Your heart skips a beat - plays a funny little game of tag with itself - and you can’t help the smile that comes, brought to life by his reassurance. It isn’t necessary to rebuff him then - eyes rolling, laugh spilling - but you do it anyway. “You have to say that. You’re my boyfriend.”

“I don’t have to say anything,” he retorts, levelling you with a look that has your insides molten. It’s the look that reads don’t test me but also I love you and you’re my idiot. It’s your favourite look in the world, lending wings to your flimsy heart. “You look great because you always look great, no matter what.”

“What about when you found me in the shower ?”

Jungkook hesitates then. He’s no liar and he had almost had a heart attack the first time it’d happened. He’d been minding his business, half-asleep and battling the need to piss, when he’d noticed you curled up in the bathroom. How he hadn’t realised you were missing from bed, he’s not sure. All he knew was that you’d terrified him, mentioning something about invading refrigerators when he was pulling his dick out of his boxers.

His scream was what had woken you up; yours was what had him bashing his head into the wall, foot slipping on the soft pink bathroom rug. You could laugh about it now but at the time, you’d thought he’d cracked his skull right open, shouting his name so loudly the neighbours had complained.

(Lucky for you two, they were a nice elderly couple who sometimes had you babysit their grandson. They’d laughed it off when you’d apologised with a loaf of fresh bread and a bandage wrapped around your boyfriend’s head.)

“Okay— that was scary. I thought you’d crawled out of the drain or something.” A shudder rolls through Jungkook’s body, shaking him from his shoulders all the way down to his knees. It’s a strangely adorable reaction from someone who looks like he could bench press you.

“You’re calling me the Grudge?” You’re deeply offended, gloved hands clasping over your chest as if to pull out the treacherous dagger he’s just lodged there. He only rolls his eyes, leaning forward to catch you in his arms; he’s relentless as he drags you to him, side of his face pressed to the bare skin of your thigh. His cheek’s searing but you’re not surprised; Jungkook ran hot, keeping you warm in winter and sweltering in summer. (Ah, the price you paid for love.)

“Yeah, you haunt me in my dreams.”

“That’s not the Grudge, Kook.” Your scoff earns you a pinch, right where the top of your stockings end. It blooms red beneath his fingers, a little reminder of his competitive I’m-never-wrong nature. You swat his hand away, not too bothered when it only finds a home elsewhere, hooked behind your knee. Jungkook had a habit of needing to be in constant contact. A little quirk of his you adored.

“I’m serious. You look—” You should clock the look on his face, the wiggle of mischief up his nose. A dead giveaway shining bright - a beacon. “—bewitching.”

If the book weren’t attached to your hip, you’d be clobbering him with it. Instead, you’re left to whack him with the equally intricate Caduceus staff, booping it over his shoulders. You feel like a certain shamanic mandrill, Jungkook the idiotic lion that’s asking for an earful.

“Shut up!” You’re laughing despite yourself and he is too, holding you so recklessly close it’s hard to hit him without hurting yourself. All part of his plan, you suppose. “You’re so freaking corny.”

“It’s because I’m a-maize-ing, ang—”

Another wap! to the head, shielded only by a tattooed hand that curls over his ear.

“Okay! Sorry!” Except he doesn’t look very sorry. More pleased that you’ve stopped the assault, dark hair pushed back from his forehead as he stares up at you. You hate how he’s so handsome - how you forget yourself when he smiles that smile, nearly yeeting your whole heart directly into the sun.

“Are you going to put on yours yet?”

It’s quarter past nine already and all you’ve done is rope him into eating some chapaguri - you’ve been obsessed with it since a few weeks ago - and play real life Witch Barbie. You have a feeling if you don’t get him into his own costume soon, you’re never going to leave the apartment. (Not that you really mind.)

Your boyfriend - bless his heart - pretends not to hear you, suddenly intently focused on an indiscernible spot past your hip. It’d be more believable if he was glued to his phone or doing anything remotely interesting. Instead, you stare down at him and count the seconds until he realises just how silly he looks. It usually comes around six, paired with a forced chuckle and that lisp you love.

Today, it comes after the fourth count.

“You’re gonna think it’s lame.” Well, of course you will. As his girlfriend - and one of his best friends, you’d like to think - it’s your relationship-given right to shame him for his more often than not absurd ideas. It’s what you deserve for suffering through all his bad jokes and 3 AM Instagram spams.

With a hand on his cheek, you squeeze the apple like you’ve seen a certain member do a million times. “So?”

He’s not really sure how to respond to that, mouth drawn into a pout that reminds you of children’s television show about penguins. It’s unfairly adorable. Still, you push. Jungkook’s bad at saying no to you - always has been, even before he really knew you. From “one more game!” to “bring me bingsu”, you always got what you wanted.

(Which wasn’t to say you asked for a lot. You were happy - more than that, ecstatic and over the moon - with the bare minimum. A selfie while on the plane, some shoddy cinematography during dance practice, a voicemail to wake up to. You didn’t love Jungkook for all the things he gave you; rather, you loved him for who he was, who he’d always been even before you knew who he really was.)

“Don’t laugh.” By the look on his face, you’re worried it’s something awful. The cheesiest thing in the world come to life to haunt you on your beloved spooky holiday.

It turns out to be the opposite: one of your favourite characters realised in the form of your achingly handsome boyfriend. He looks so good you’re not certain whether it’s your attraction to him or him in that particular guise that’s stronger. You figure it doesn’t matter one way or another. For tonight, they’re one and the same.

“Joker? Seriously?” You can’t hide the delight. It colours every syllable, sets them glowing like a neon sign.

Your boyfriend only rolls his eyes, as if he’d predicted this reaction. Dressed as he is, the movement is impossible to miss, brought into focus by the white domino mask. “Don’t sound so excited.” It’s an actual concern of his. He’s seen you sink upwards of ninety hours on the video game, playing it in the early hours when he’s fast asleep and you’re battling another night of insomnia.

Once, he’d asked whether you loved him or Joker more. He hadn’t liked the answer (joking as it was) and had spent the better part of the evening pouting.

This time, you’re sweet as pie, eyes so dark and twinkly he wonders whether he’s staring at the night sky. You wonder the same yourself almost every night, lost in the constellations of his irises. It’s the most intimate form of stargazing you can afford, a luxury you indulge in frequently. You’ve mapped the different formations, named them in honour of all the special moments you’ve shared; you think to label one for this night too.

“You look so good.” You don’t hesitate to brush his hair from his eyes. It’s still relaxing from the perm he’d gotten days ago, curling like classic calligraphy over his eyes. It’s surprisingly soft between your fingers, silk despite the constant heat styling. Bastard. “I can’t believe you’re going as Joker. You don’t even like Persona 5!”

By how Jungkook looks at you then - the same way he did the first time you met standing on the street corner in Dotonbori and a hundred more times since then - you realise it doesn’t matter. He’s dressed this way because you like the character.

“Oh,” you say, because there’s not much more to say. Nothing that needs to be said as he grins down at you, so heartbreakingly handsome you’ll never get used to it.

“Yeah,” he parrots back, a little smug.

Bangtan’s golden maknae is having the time of his life. He’s four cups deep into a game of beer pong that’s played like the Wimbledon classic, back hunched, jaw set. You’d think he was battling it out for the title of God of Beer Pong if you didn’t know better. (You suppose he is.)

“Angel, come here!” He’s giddy - slightly glazed in the eyes - as he waves you over, a red-gloved hand beckoning you to his side. Despite how good he looks in the costume - every weakness of yours encapsulated by the intricate dress shirt that hugs him like a second skin - the gesture is decidedly adorable, an eager puppy seeking unconditional love. There’s simply too much affection in his voice, so much sugar-spun love that you can’t deny him (even as you consider jumping his bones at a party full of people).

He’s shining as bright as the sun and you want nothing more than to live within his warmth.

With your fingers twined, he pulls you to him, drawing you tight against his side like he doesn’t need that same hand to throw another ball. You don’t mind. You know he’ll sink it even with his left hand.

“I’m winning,” he states, as if it weren’t wildly obvious by the fact all cups remain untouched on his side.

Across the table, Yugyeom’s eyes roll so far back you want to laugh. Jungkook’s competitive side is endearing at best and infuriating at worst. Luckily, his competition is enjoying himself too much to give him shit.

(He’s also probably too drunk to, given how badly he’s doing.)

“I see that.” You’re not a big drinker yourself but you like seeing Jungkook in his element. He thrives in this sort of setting, showing off all the talents he has and then some. It’s just another stage to him, somewhere he can prove himself (even if it’s over something as small as how good his bounce-shot is). “How many games have you won?” Because he’s been at this table for the last hour, dropping his competition like flies.

“All of them.” God, his ego. You know you shouldn’t stroke it but you can’t help it, brushing a hand through his tousled hair in the way he likes best. Fingers over his scalp, thumb rubbing soothing circles across the nape of his neck. He nearly melts then, tilting his head into the gentle caress.

“Good job, Kook.”

You’re so lost in your own little world that poor Yugyeom has to pull you both from it, launching a poorly-aimed white ping pong ball at the two of you. To no one’s surprise, it careens past your heads, hitting the wall behind you and disappearing off to god knows where.

“Can we play?” Again, that eye roll, visible just past the bandages that loosely wrap his cheeks. You know he’s only teasing, that he’s actually quite a fan of your and Jungkook’s dumb coupling (he’s told you), but you return his mockery with a raised hand, thumb and forefinger waving in salute.

“Losers don’t get to complain.”

The idol throws a hand to his chest, the gesture bordering on sloppy from the liquor that threads his limbs. Still, it’s cute, earning a sweet laugh from you and a witch’s cackle from your boyfriend. (How fitting.) “I’m hurt, Yoojin-ssi.”

It’s Jungkook’s turn to tease, brattiness flipped on like a haywire lightswitch. “No, you’re just bad at games!” He’s a sniggering schoolgirl, lines wrapping the delicate skin of his nose, streaking joy into the wrinkles beneath his eyes. Slightly-too-big front teeth are on full display, his expression the embodiment of an “uwu” emote.

That riles Yugyeom up, powder puff of hair bounding over to you before you have time to blink. In the next moment, your boyfriend’s half-wrestling with him, their arms locked around each other like some sort of weird four-limbed octopus. (Video game protagonist vs. hot mummy— who will win?) You jump back just in time, avoiding a wayward fist and laughing merrily. Idiots, the both of them.

“You guys have fun.” And then you’re gone, off to busy yourself with people who won’t accidentally give you a black eye or knock over the nearest thing not bolted to the ground.

You can still hear them tussling when you latch yourself to the back of a certain blond. He’s dressed like one of your greatest nightmares - an actual clown, drawing inspiration from a certain 2017 blockbuster - and yet somehow still manages to look good. You don’t understand it and frankly, you’re a little envious, but such was life.

“Jimin-ssiiiii.”

“Ahhhhhh, stop!” It’s the same reaction he always has, paired with wiggling shoulders and sweet laughter that bounces around the room and stirs to life your own. Indisputable and lovely, the sound is brighter than the sun or the lights that currently swing through the chandelier lights above your heads. “You two are ridiculous.”

“He’s ridiculous, not me!” You know it isn’t true. Separately, you and Jungkook were idiotic enough, finding humour in the silliest things (funny threads on r/Relationship_Advice and four year old Vines). But together? It was a two-person circus, graduate professors at clown college.

You absolutely loved it.

“Sure, sure,” the dancer hums, delightfully disbelieving as he takes another shot. One of three lined up across the counter, clear in little orange cups made to look like pumpkins. A whiff tells you they’re strawberry soju - your least favourite flavour. You decline with a wrinkled nose and waving hand when he offers you one. Jimin shrugs and downs the next, delicately wiping the corner of his mouth when he misjudges the pour. “Aren’t you drinking?”

You wiggle the half-empty Cass bottle in your hand in response and receive a scoff, different bottle - green, unopened - thrust into your other.

“Drink this!”

“You want me to drink an entire bottle?” You’re incredulous. Jimin’s seen you on the edge of intoxication and more than a little sloppy, giggling like a schoolgirl. It’s not unbecoming - you know better than to get blackout - but laughable nonetheless. Something to record and post on Snapchat with a voice-altering filter.

“It’s Halloween!” The pumpkin shot glass makes you go cross-eyed before he’s knocking it back too. “Live a little!”

Who are you to say no to the recent birthday boy? It would simply be bad manners and you were nothing if polite (though, you’re sure some might beg to differ - Yoongi, maybe?).

The remnants of your beer are swallowed down in the next moment, so quickly you almost choke on it. Your life flashes before your eyes, Jimin’s hand on your shoulder as he beats breath into your body. “Don’t die!” He cries, despite the fact that it’s his fist that’s making it worse, doubling you over with hacking coughs.

“K-Kook’s g-going to kill you—”

“No, you’re fine.” He’s reassuring you just as much as himself, laughing too loudly as you straighten up. You wonder how red your face is when he takes your place, slapping his own knee as he shakes with amusement. “Your face, oh— Your face.”

It’s not meant to be offensive but your buzzed brain demands payment for each giggle.

The base of the green bottle collides with the back of his knee - gentle, gentle - just hard enough to have him properly toppling over, collapsing onto the carpet like a frail old grandpa without his cane. You can’t help the snicker that careens off your liquor-laden tongue.

That is, until he’s pulling you down with him and the two of you are a giggling, giddy mess, tucked beneath the edge of the bar as you laugh together. It’s a chorus of sound, unrelenting and building the longer you both sit on the floor. Jimin’s practically hunched over, head caught between his propped up arms. You imagine it’s a funny sight - two people in their twenties acting like college freshmen.

“Baby?” It’s your boyfriend, amused and confused as he stares down at your and Jimin’s prone bodies. He’s got that dent between his brows, the colour of his eyes all but swallowed up by the way his cheeks press wide with his smile. “What’re you doing down there?”

“Just hanging out,” you answer, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. At your side, Jimin’s still trying to collect himself, parroting your words around his lungfuls of quieting laughter.

“Are you drunk?”

You’re not, but that doesn’t stop you from gasping, overdramatic and with your unopened bottle of soju held aloft. A modern day olive branch. “No?”

Jungkook snorts and then all at once, he’s close. Too close - smelling of beer and your favourite cologne of his, citrusy and woodsy and every other nice thing you like. It fills your senses just as his smile does, blindingly bright and bunny-like. Even behind the mask, his good looks take your breath away. You must be staring up at him idiotically, all one hundred and sixteen pounds of ooey gooey tenderness. “You sound drunk, angel,” he teases, warm red-covered palm coming to cradle your cheek. It sears heat everywhere it touches, guiding the same hue over your skin. It creeps up your chest and over your ears, standing in contrast to the material of his gloves. “Pretty.”

(He really is, you think.)

“Get a room,” comes Jimin from beside you. There’s no malice in his voice - just soft affection for a couple of lovesick idiots.

“That’s the plan,” Jungkook replies, as if he’d been waiting for the moment. It skips off his tongue and settles into your ears, tipping your head curiously as you stare at him. He’s never been very shy about wanting you - at least, not since you’d made things official, so many months ago - but you’re surprised by the insinuation. When he speaks again, you realise your brain has been rolling around in the gutter, fallen out of your ears like candy from a worn pillow case. “Want to head home?”

You do. You really, really do.

When you stumble into your apartment - the same one with the polka-dot welcome rug and crisp white paint - you realise you were perhaps wrong about how drunk you are. Everything’s coming at you quite quickly, the ground beneath your feet somehow suddenly rushing at you like Mach Five.

“Whoa—” There’s an impossibly solid warmth against your back, fingers locked around your wrists that feel more like flimsy chicken feet. “Careful.”

Your boyfriend’s keeping you upright while stepping out of his boots - impossibly expensive supple dark leather - and you’re giggling all the while, practically sinking against him as he does his best to shuffle his shoes away and get you further into the hallway. “Sorry,” you offer in a terrible stage whisper, smiling wide when you catch sight of his, small and endlessly amused. It slips across his face even as he tries to bite it back, warring with the patience he holds in spades.

“Let’s just get these off.” He means the boots - the intricate, vaguely absurd things that creep up almost the entirety of your leg, neatly wrapped and knotted midway up your thigh. Dexterous as he is, it’s a task to unravel the strings and thread buttons when you’re weighing on him like a bag of bricks.

You’re fumbling for the tops, haphazardly smacking his hands away. “Here, let me.”

Somehow, you manage to get them off in what feels like record time. (In reality, it takes a good five minutes of futility before they’re left on the ground and Jungkook’s swept you into his arms, seemingly over waiting for you to do much else.)

“Oh, my prince charming,” you tease, clinging to him like a koala. You’re locked around him, practically suffocating him, but he doesn’t seem to mind. He’s used to it when you’re this way, just a little too much liquid courage turning your level of affection to eleven. “Or are you the court jester? That’s what Joker is, right?” It’s a joke and a bad one at that. Still, your boyfriend indulges you, depositing a forced laugh against your shoulder as he navigates to your bedroom.

“You’re drunk.” He says it more kindly than you expect. Perhaps even more kindly than you deserve. You know he’s not exactly sober himself, his gaze verging on heavy-lidded. There’s sleepiness blending seamlessly with intoxication, softening the edge of his jaw, the narrow of his stare. It’s terribly tender, skipping your heart when you look at him dead on.

It comes without thought. You have to tell him. Your drunk brain and your puppy dog heart demand it. “I love you.”

Jungkook returns the confession with humour, eyes sparkling despite the haze of alcohol that dims them down. As always, he indulges you, giving you support in the form of his heart and his hands. (Literally, he’s still holding you even though you’ve reached your destination.) “Love you too.”

“Is it time for bed?” You’re surprisingly tired, despite the fact that you’d slept until late in the afternoon. You certainly wouldn’t mind falling face first into your mattress.

“You need a shower first.” It’s a simple statement of fact, you know that. You’ve got at least ten pounds of makeup on and your hair’s the furthest thing from soft and silky, carefully coiffed to mimic Mercy’s signature style. You still pretend like you’re just a bit offended, scowling into the face of your boyfriend even as he rolls his eyes, already somehow able to read the words written into your expression. “I meant we and no, I’m not calling you stinky.”

He’s stolen your thunder, as he so often does. You pout, as you so often do.

“Okay,” you relent, finally, moving to rest your head against his shoulder. You could get down - walk on your own two tired feet - but you’re enjoying the closeness, how warm and real he feels in comparison to the swimming surroundings. “Will you wash my hair?” You don’t really need to ask but do anyway, because you like the sound of his voice when it’s so close.

“You know I will.” Because he always does when you shower together (and it falls on a designated hair washing day - that was important).

You offer your thanks with a kiss, laid right over the jumping pulse in his neck. When Jungkook hums in acknowledgment, you feel the way the muscles constrict, his Adam’s apple jumping beneath your lips. You zero in on it with laser precision, mouthing over his throat. Somewhere above you - against the shell of your ear - he exhales a laugh, breath hot.

“We’re showering, baby.” As if that’s meant to stop you. He, more than anyone, should know how adamant you get, singularly focused on whatever’s got your attention. He’s been on the receiving end of it more than enough times, strung into playing another one, two, ten matches of Overwatch or hunting down the limited edition Funko Pops that now sit proudly on your white shelf (and behind your plants and on the ledge by the front door).

“We can shower and have fun,” you mumble into the expanse of his chest. He’s so pleasantly warm, unyielding and firm and so, so comfortable. You think you could live in the feeling of his arms. (You’re lucky you get to.) You don’t even mind the sudden cold of the counter or the space that forms between you when he sets you down, because he’s still caging you in where it matters most. “Right, JK?”

It’s a nickname you rarely use now - one that only comes out in times of desperation. You’ve never quite understood why it affects your boyfriend the way it does, stuttering the rhythmic beating of his heart, but you love it nonetheless. It makes you grin, high on power and giddy with nothing but sweetness.

He’d explained it to you once. Jay was how you’d met him, the version of himself you’d loved first. Jungkook was the side of himself he’d wanted to give you but couldn’t. JK was the in-between - the chaos and the calm. Hearing you say it brought back all the memories of year one and he liked that. You could only laugh at his sentimentality and tuck the piece of knowledge somewhere deep, to be pulled out in instances like this.

“Right, angel.” You don’t miss the colour on his cheeks - so pretty you reach your hands out to cup them, squishing them between your palms like an old grandmother testing a watermelon. You continue to hold him until he pulls your hands from his face, guiding them to the edge of the counter with gentle pressure. “Gotta get undressed to shower,” he chides, that twinkle in his eye that makes it hard to look away.

Really, how can he expect you to do anything when he’s got an entire unexplored galaxy hidden in his irises? It’s an absurd ask.

“Or I’ll help you.”

Your clothes fall away while you’re still staring up at him.

First, the gloves, peeled from your fingers with utmost care. Kisses fill the spaces between each finger, passed from knuckles to wrist, all the way up to your elbow. You squirm when his teeth graze the sensitive underside of your bicep. He stifles a snicker into the skin.

Next goes your cape and wings, hung on the door handle. His mouth warms the suddenly bare skin, pressing affection into the line of your shoulder, up over your neck. You don’t squirm this time, instead humming a noise of delight. You hardly notice when the corset goes next, undone by surprisingly nimble inked digits. There’s hardly a moment to savour the freedom - you can finally breathe - when his hands replace the cups, palms eager over your chest. He doesn’t hesitate to hold you, pinching your perked nipples with a sly grin.

“I thought we were going to shower.” The words are barely out before turning breathless, stolen by the way he easily palms your breast, dropping his face into the crook of your neck.

“We are, angel,” Jungkook teases, rolling your bud between his thumb and forefinger, other hand moved to splay across the now-bare small of your back. It’s almost embarrassing how easily you fall into him, drawn against him like a moth to a flame. “Just need to get you warmed up first.”

“The shower’ll be warm,” you say - or think you say, anyway. It isn’t quite articulated, half your brain left somewhere at the party (or maybe caught dead centre in the coil that’s tightening in your stomach).

“Do you want me to stop?” It’s so quiet you almost miss it, too distracted by how he slips the rest of your costume off. Shorts, thong, stockings, silly witch’s hat. “Tell me if you want me to stop, baby.” Ever the gentleman, he’s patient, meeting your glazed stare with something close to concern. You almost laugh in his face then - stopping short only when you note just how serious he is, the tell-tale set of his jaw shining like a familiar beacon.

You return your hands to his face, palms cradling his chin like he might break otherwise. “I never want you to stop.”

That’s all Jungkook needs before he’s slotting himself between your legs, mirroring your motion with hands creeping up the side of your neck, fingers ascending into the roots of your hair. He holds you close and kisses you like it’s all he’s ever wanted. “I love you,” he breathes, speaks against the corner of your mouth.

You parrot the words back at him and he grins, stepping away in the next moment. He laughs when you pout, offering a kiss in apology as he undoes the buttons of his dress shirt, slipping the soft cotton off. You stop then, entranced by the revealed skin, how it shifts with each adjustment of muscle, sinew tight over his arms and shoulders. You wonder, not for the first time, how you’d managed to luck out so spectacularly.

“Start the shower.”

You hop down with the direction, slipping past him to do exactly that. You don’t miss the way he rotates, brings himself closer as you move away. The magnetism is undeniable - always has been.

“I love you,” he states, again, bare against your back as you hover by the edge of the glass door, one hand stuck past to test the slow-warming stream. He’s solid, familiar and comfortable, as he slinks his arms back around you, heat burning the shape of his hands over your ribs, the shape of your hip. You think he might mark himself there, just as neatly as the floral ink does. You wouldn’t mind.

The water is welcome, bathing the both of you in steam when you step inside. It’s an incredibly relaxing feeling, being caught between the spray and the hard body behind you. You hum a noise of pure delight, turning your face toward the one that nuzzles itself into your neck, and bring your hands to rest over his, fingers slotting between ink.

“Hair?” You’re not in a terrible rush but you like redirecting his attention (pretending to, at least) - the teasing that formed the base of your relationship presenting itself in the quiet reminder. It earns the laugh you expect, muffled into your hair, featherlight over the delicate shell of your jewelled ear.

“Patience, baby.” It’s something Jungkook tends to say a lot, whether waiting in queue in Overwatch or in bed, with you a complete mess. He repeats it easily, like he’s the poster boy for the virtue. (He isn’t.)

“What am I waiting—” The question dies, swallowed whole by the gasp he draws from you with a wandering hand. Fingers slip across your stomach, digits deftly seeking out warmth as if you weren’t already enveloped in it. It’s a touch that’s tantalisingly slow, unfairly light, but it still makes you keen when it drags over your lips. A single digit pushes past muscle - so shallow you’re not sure you’re not just imagining it - before retreating, dragging your slick back up to your clit. The moment the pad of his finger makes contact with the sensitive bundle of nerves, you almost jump. Would, if he weren’t caging you with his other arm.

You feel the cold of his teeth bared against your neck then, the throaty laugh that pulls out of his chest and deposits itself into your hair. “Patience,” he repeats, swirling his fingers over your clit, his mouth moving in tandem with the twist of his wrist. He peppers love and affection in the form of kisses, presses devotion with the edge of his teeth, soothes all your nerves with a sweep of his tongue.

“Kook,” you sigh, already well on your way to being a boneless mess. There’s tingling in your toes, fizzing in your stomach, butterflies in your chest. A whirlwind of emotion and sensation that he stirs to life effortlessly.

“Relax for me.” You do so because it’s easy, because he’s so devastatingly good to you.

The figure eights skating over your clit cease, fingers dropping further down to nestle against your cunt. He pauses there, almost experimentally flexing against the muscle that aches and clenches around nothing, eager for more. You think he’s smirking by the way his lips form with his kisses, a little lopsided and devilish. (You wish you could see him.)

A single digit enters you then, to the third knuckle as if your body was made for this, for him. (It was.) He coos against your neck when a garbled mess skips off your tongue and nearly laughs when another slips in alongside it, turning the mess into nonsense. Despite how badly you want it - need it, really - it’s a sensation that’s too much and not enough all at once, toeing the line between pleasure and pain.

It was how Jungkook loved you - recklessly, shamelessly, in no half measures. With more love than you could ever hope for, giving you things you didn’t even know how to ask for.

“Relax, angel,” comes as he begins scissoring both fingers inside you, stretching you out with an otherworldly amount of care. Even your neglected clit is given some sort of relief - anything to ease the sting of two long fingers - his thumb gliding over it with each stretch of your walls. He knows exactly where to touch you, how much pressure to apply, and you’re melting, lost in the feeling.

When he’s had enough and he curls his fingers within you, seeking out that particular spot, you’re trembling, caught off guard. Heat builds quickly with the precision of which he taps against that spot; it starts low in your back, climbing each vertebrae of your spine until you’re quivering in his arms.

“K-Kook.” It’s both a plea and a demand, nonsensical as he guides you through your orgasm, keeping you upright against him when your knees feel like they might give out.

“I’ve got you.” And he does - hook, line, and sinker. He holds you steady as the pleasure crashes over your head, keeps you anchored to the here and now and the pleasure that rolls through you like a relentless wave. It sinks beneath your skin, settles heavy into every atom, and he never lets you go. He’s got you.

When sensation returns - slowly, so slowly it feels like you’re stuck in the Twilight Zone - you only want to turn. See him, hold him, whisper sweet nothings as you kiss him silly and thank him for his service. Instead, you’re held in place, two hands firm upon your hips even as you crane your neck to look over your shoulder at him. You should recognise the look on his face. “Kook?”

“My turn.” It’s a statement more than anything, a kind heads-up as he nudges you forward. There’s that same twinkle in his eye, the only source of light around the pupil that’s blown out, otherwise engulfing the constellations he so normally offers you. It’s a black hole and one you’d gladly get lost in. “Hands on the wall, baby.”

You’d never been one for shower sex - it’s too small a space, too much happening at once, a guaranteed freak accident waiting to happen - but you can’t deny him when he asks so nicely. (It really hadn’t been that nice but you were a certified sucker for one Jeon Jungkook.)

Hands find themselves on the wall, palms flat, fingers splayed. In the same instance you wiggle your hips, there’s a ghosting touch over your spine. It trails up and down, soothes the residual heat that lingers, and then slips higher, palm gentle over your throat. His thumb rubs reassuring circles over the nape of your neck, pressing gently into the sensitive spot behind your ear. It’s distracting and you realise much needed when he sinks into you with one fluid press of his hips, filling you so full you can’t help the gasp that bounds past your lips and bounces around the glass enclosure. “Oh fuck,” he sighs, his grip on your hip tightening incrementally.

He sounds like sin and feels like heaven.

“Always so good for me.” Another thing he says, often and without prompting. It still feels just as good the umpteenth time, sparking pride deep in your chest as he pulls out and drives himself back in, staring in rapt fascination at where your bodies meet. “Always so perfect for me.”

“Because I love you,” you quip, more than a little out of breath and jostled by the way he thrusts into you, measured and with enough force to shake your legs.

“Love you too, angel.” He doesn’t need to say it back - you know, can feel it by how he holds you, drives you to brink of insanity with his cock - but he does it anyway. He always says it back, no matter what, even if he’s half-asleep or distracted. He’ll never stop saying it.

The hand on your hip falls, slinks across your hip and between your legs, and you’re pushed further forward, his feet gently kicking yours further apart. Jungkook assaults your clit then, timing each pass with each thrust. An attempted glance back has fireworks going off before your eyes, specks of pleasure lighting up your vision; it’s a technicolour lightshow, framing the way his face scrunches, brow set and jaw hard. He’s determined, focused on bringing you to another orgasm before he hits his own high. You assist him as best you can, swiveling your hips and grinding back against him even as the coil pulls impossibly tight in your stomach, barely held together by threadbare strings.

“Kook,” you whine when the tension becomes too much, hands scrabbling across the wall of the shower. The same overwhelming tingle sparks beneath your skin, entire body trembling like a leaf when the head of his cock brushes that spot inside you at just the right angle.

He doesn’t relent, rhythm turning almost punishing as he drives you over the edge, launching you headlong into your second orgasm. You’re not sure how you stay upright, near sobbing when you crash into euphoric bliss, neither his fingers nor his thrusts ceasing. It’s almost too much and yet you know how close he is, so you push back, whimper words you know he wants to hear.

“P-please, Kook. Please.” You’re reaching a hand back, desperate to interlace your fingers with his. He gives in easily, catches your hand in his own and plants it on the swell of your hip as he chases his own release with desperation. “Come for me, Kook. Fill me up.”

Jungkook does just that, balls tight as he spills himself inside you, hand at your throat so tight you’re seeing stars. Somehow - with the feeling of him grinding into you, overcome with so much sensitivity - you come for the third time, crying very real tears as the sensation washes over you. It’s weaker than your first two but unravels you all the same, seeping the energy from your limbs. You’re grateful for how well he knows you and the fact he catches you before your arms collapse, pulling you to him with gentle movements.

“I love you,” he whispers against your temple, out of breath and sweat-slick despite the water that rains down upon you.

“I love you,” you answer, pressing a kiss to the hand that still twines with yours. “But I still need you to wash my hair.” It’s cheeky and you know it so you don’t even mind when he bites into the meat of your shoulder, leaving a pretty red mark that’ll bloom for the next few days. “Ow!”

“You’re a brat.” Said even as he’s reaching for your shampoo bar, teasing it through your roots with practiced movements. He’s careful despite his scathing tone, gentle despite how he glares at you from the corner of your periphery. Each tangle is neatly undone and not a single bubble gets in your eye, much to your joy.

“I thought I was an angel.” You’re taking a page out of his book, speaking in fluent pout.

He catches your lips with his own, pushing your lathered up head beneath the steady stream when he withdraws and speaks. Suds run across your cheeks, eyes shielded only by the hand he keeps steady along your hairline. Even so mean, your boyfriend is still terribly nice. “You’re my angel - but you’re still a brat.”

You can’t argue with that.

tag list. @neverthefirstchoice @youwannabelostandnotbefound @snackhobi

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