#I THOUGHT THAT WAS HIS INTRODUCTION. FUCK. BUT YEAH NO GUESS THE COLLECTION IS RUNNING

[i-am-become-a-name]

making my list of The Year of Braxiatel books/audios/short stories/misc with a goddamn key to try and work out in what order I'm going.

[loversj0y]

For your 200 follower event you should do Invisible String with Wil! Maybe inspired by him being on tour, and once you guys connect, you realize all the similarities/close calls you’ve had to each other?

invisible string

event masterlist

pairing: wilbur soot x gn! reader

tws: bars/references to drinking

notes: this might be tphe longest one bc it felt wrong making it Not long, i guess so i hope you enjoy :3

word count: 2.5k

taglist: @l0veb0mb1ng / @core-queen / @zooone / @lillylvjy / @melunnek

You hated heartbreak and the way it seemed to accompany you like an old friend. Several bad breakups led to the collective feeling of needing to leave, wanting to run, so you did. It wasn’t hard to find a university you could study abroad in and accommodations, especially with the proficiency in your courses meaning a scholarship wasn’t hard to find. Choosing a place to go was the hardest part; you knew you wanted to go to the UK, but you didn’t know where. Thankfully, there was a pretty simple solution: throwing a dart at a map. Leading you here: Brighton. The taxi drove you to your new apartment, and there was a rock song playing you’d wished to have gotten the name of before you got dropped off. 

After a week of unpacking and settling in, you’d gotten notably bored. So you decided to look for a place to go, or something to do, and you stumbled across a pretty small club that seemed quite nice. You walked in, and at first it reminded you of the dive bars back in America, but a bit nicer. You went up to the bar and ordered quickly, trying to speak a bit quieter given the glaringly obvious American accent. It wasn’t enough to entirely hide it, though. Once you got your drink, a blond boy who’d been next to you at the bar spoke up, loudly.

“Are you American?”

You looked at him and nodded. He seemed a bit younger, but given that he was in here meant he was probably at least 18. “Yeah, I just moved here.”

He perked up, grinning, “Follow me!” He didn’t give you much a choice before grabbing your arm and dragging you over to his friends, “My name’s Tommy, by the way! My brother Wilbur loves America, so he’ll be excited to meet you, c’mon!”

You chuckled, allowing yourself to be dragged over by him. He brought you to a group of five people, two of whom were incredibly tall. All five of them were giving an incredulous look at Tommy, making you laugh a bit. 

“Wilbur!” Tommy basically yelled as he pulled you over, “I found an American!”

You fought the urge to hide your face in your hands, instead taking a sip of your drink.

One of the taller guys, who you presumed was Wilbur, sputtered at Tommy, “Tommy! You can’t just drag someone over because they’re American, for fucks sake.”

“Yes, but you love America and you needed some cheering up, so ta-da!”

Wilbur just facepalmed, sighing and looking over at you now. He was an attractive guy, light brown curls and a tall frame, plus a good fashion sense if the Doc Martins were anything to go off of. “I am so sorry he abducted you. He is a child with no sense of manners.”

You chuckled softly, especially as Tommy gasped dramatically in response. “It’s alright,” you smiled softly, “Beats the alternative of sitting alone at the bar for an hour, so.” You shrugged.

Wilbur gave you a bit of a thoughtful look, but before he could speak up, the girl next to Tommy spoke.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, even if he literally just dragged you over. I’m Molly, Tommy’s girlfriend.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” you smiled softly, before Tommy took charge once more.

“Yes, right! Introductions! I’m Tommy, obviously the coolest one here, Molly is my wonderful and only wife, Jack over there is an dick, don’t be friends with him, but that’s his girlfriend Ellie, she’s too cool for him. You spoke to Wilbur, my lame brother, already, and the only one taller than him is the very gorgeous Ranboo,” he explained.

Not a single person looked pleased with his explanation, but they also didn’t exactly look surprised by him.

“Right, well, nice to meet you guys. I’m Y/N.”

“So, you’re actually from America? Are you visiting?” Jack asked, a kind smile on his face.

“Yeah, uh, I just moved here actually. I just needed a change of pace, I guess, so I actually transferred to the university out here.”

He nodded, and you could feel the entire group’s eyes on you for a moment. It was a bit unsettling, but that was more just the nerves.

“Cool, fellow American,” the tallest one, Ranboo, spoke up. You looked up at him (he was really tall), and you smiled. 

“Glad to know I’m not the only one out here. How’d you end up out here?”

“Uh… work, actually. It’s kind of a long story, but I had to move out here for my work stuff, so I did.” He shifted his eyes a bit as he spoke, and you just nodded, assuming he didn’t want to be pressed on the matter.

“Wilbur,” Tommy spoke, “tell them some cool America facts.”

“Tommy, they very likely know them better than me given that they actually lived there.” Wilbur chuckled softly.

I smiled softly at Wilbur, “I’d still like to hear them. Maybe I can tell you if you’re mistaken about any of them.”

He looked over and gave you a grin, and the conversations paired off. You and Wilbur discussed America and where you lived, and the fact that Americans need to stop building parking lots, which you agreed with.

After nearly an hour and a half, he disengaged, turning to Tommy, “I have to head out now, Toms. I’ll see you tomorrow though, yeah?”

Tommy nodded, then gave Wilbur a bit of an evil grin, turning to you, “Did Wilbur tell you he’s a big musician? He’s got to leave early because he’s got a gig tomorrow and has to do boring musician things.”

“Really?” You grinned softly, “That’s really fucking cool.”

“Yeah, well, Wilbur’s lame, but his band is cool. You should come to the gig!” Tommy exclaimed, and Wilbur’s cheeks dusted red, eyes widening at Tommy.

“I’d love to, but, only if it’s okay with you, I guess,” You looked up at Wilbur, raising your eyebrows.

He nodded a bit stiffly, “yeah, no, that’d be great. The more the merrier. I’ll see you both tomorrow then.” He waved, heading off quite quickly after.

“Is… he going to be mad at you for inviting me?” You chuckled, looking over at Tommy.

“Eh, he will be at first. I’ll probably wake up to an upset text, but it’s just because he gets nervous playing in front of people he wants to impress. Once he does fine after, he’ll text me all ‘Oh, Tommy, you’re so smart and right, thank you for inviting them since I was too much of a pussyhole to ask myself,’” he mocked Wilbur’s voice, and you laughed a bit. You blushed slightly at the implication that Wilbur wanted to impress you.

After a bit longer, the group dispersed, and you headed home. You actually ended up living pretty close to Tommy, who was about two blocks down from you. As you headed inside to your apartment, you smiled and got excited at the idea of going to the gig tomorrow and seeing Wilbur again. You fell asleep excited and wondering what type of music you’d hear from him and pleased with the people you’d happened to find. 

You managed to get to the gig without too much trouble the next day, and you were shocked by the sheer amount of people waiting outside. Tommy had texted you about going to a back entrance, which thankfully wasn’t too hard to find. He was waiting by the door to help you in as well, and you felt immediately starstruck. 

The place was pretty big, and Wilbur was already standing in the centre of the stage, practicing something on his guitar. The lights were hitting him perfectly, and he looked like an angel. You struggled to look away, until Tommy came up and basically draped himself against you.

“Stop simpin’ after Wilbur, c’monnnn, we’re heading backstage. He needs his little ‘rockstar-practice time’ or whatever.”

You flushed, turning away from Wilbur, “I’m not simping, I’m just in awe. This is really cool.”

“Yeah, yeah, well,” he walked further backstage with you following him, “you should’ve seen how long it took him to get used to it. Whole band did a bunch of fake shows to get used to performing.”

“Really? That’s smart, actually.”

Tommy just shrugged, taking you to room backstage where there was a much larger group of people than the night before. You recognized Molly and Jack, but the other three were complete strangers.

“Oh, Y/N, you came!” Molly grinned, waving. You waved back at her, nodding a bit. 

“These lot are more of the band. They are much cooler than Wilbur, you’ll find. That’s Ash, Leandra, and Mark.”

You waved, saying a quick hello, before allowing yourself to become an observer of the conversation.

The show started not too long after, with you, Jack, Molly, and Tommy watching from the side stage. You quickly discovered that the band, Lovejoy, was incredibly popular, and their music was fantastic. And Wilbur.

Wilbur was something else on stage. He was fully in his element, lights covering him in halo glows. His voice was melodic, and it made you want to melt. From the side stage, you could see how he leaned against the mic, the passion in his voice, and the intensity he matched in each song. It was about halfway through the show though, that you felt you blood run cold.

The song you’d heard in the cab when you moved in. It was their song. And if that wasn’t just the biggest coincidence slapping you in the face than god knows what was. You didn’t know what to make of it, other than feeling incredibly overwhelmed by fate and the new friends you’d made.

By the end of the show, you felt strange. You felt incredibly uncertain about your place in the world most days, but for some reason, as you watched Wilbur approach you and the group, you felt like there was no where else you belonged.

“Hey,” he walked over with a grin, “You came! What did you think?”

He looked almost nervous as he asked, sweat still dripping from his forehead as you chuckled, “It was amazing! I actually recognized one as well!”

A startled look crossed his face for a moment, “You did? Which one?”

“The, ah, I didn’t catch the name of it originally, but I want to say it’s Call Me What You Like if the setlists are correct. It was playing in my cab when I was dropped off in Brighton.”

He grinned, “Really? It was on the radio?” 

You nodded, “Yeah! I thought it was fantastic, but I didn’t have time to catch the name. At least now I don’t have to worry about forgetting it.”

“Oh, trust me, I wouldn’t let you,” he gave you a grin that shined brighter than any light on that stage, and you felt butterflies flood your stomach as you considered that maybe it was fate that brought you here.

Sometimes you didn’t consider the ways that time worked. In the span of one year, so much more had changed than you’d ever even considered. You moved to a new country, started a new school, made new friends. You cut your hair, changed your wardrobe, got a better music taste. You became much more social, started dating Wilbur, learned to feel more confident in yourself. 

The relationship probably was the most shocking of anything to happen. But it happened quickly, and it felt so right and so easy, as if your previous heartbreaks never occurred. You still had problems, mind you, however, there was something within you telling you it was fate constantly. 

You thought about fate a lot when you thought about your relationship. The random effect of the universe tended to have a weird way of making you think about stuff like that. The statistical chances of choosing to move to Brighton by throwing a dart at a map, of hearing Wilbur’s song play in your cab. Then there were the numerous things you’d learned over time, small coincidences that pointed to a string of fate tying you together. Of the color of his first album being the color of your first prom dress. Of the time he visited America and ended up staying twenty minutes from where you lived. Of your first boyfriend sharing Wilbur’s middle name. Of all these tiny clues of parallel moments within your lives that you could only see now in retrospect. 

The biggest thing within this string was the connection you felt to him that first night. It felt like that little string pulled you straight into that bar. When all of a sudden, all the stress and feelings you’d had about heartbreak and needing to run felt soothed, all past mistakes feeling fuzzy in comparison to something that was so right. 

“Darling,” Wilbur chuckled softly, “What are you thinking so hard about?” He smiled, walking over to where you were already laying down, ready for bed. 

“Do you ever think about fate?” You asked as he gently pressed a kiss to your forehead. 

“Not often, I guess. Why?”

“I just think about us, and I just feel like there’s been a string connecting us, tying us together, and we just couldn’t see it.”

He smiled softly, slowly getting into bed next to you, “You think?”

“I don’t know for certain. But I know that there’s way too many coincidences to be normal. And that in one year, just by moving here… I don’t know it feels like I wasn’t living before being here, and even more now that I’m with you. I actually feel in charge of my life. Like time just changed everything for the better, and I have to at least believe that maybe it’s because fate brought us here.”

He wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you into him, “Yeah. I’ve never quite thought about it like that. I like that idea though. I mean, the chances of us actually meeting were so slim. As much as I don’t love the concept of fate, I’ll love fate for this. Because if fate is what brought me to you, then I owe it so much.” 

You smiled lovingly at him, leaning forward to kiss him gently, “I owe it so much too. That- that little thread of gold tying us together.”

He held you a bit tighter, turning off the lamp next to him, “You think it’d be gold?”

“Oh, absolutely.”

He chuckled, “Why is that?”

“Because it’s your last name. And the leaves were gold when I moved here in the fall. What about you?”

“Hm,” he hummed, “Gold could be fitting. But I think it’d be some sort of blue or purple, like the sunset we watched on our first proper date.”

“That’d be nice,” you smiled softly, “I’m just glad it was there, if it is real.”

“Me too, love,” he whispered, before pulling you into a slow and gentle kiss. 

[mhaynoot]

finished tgcf book 1 and here are some random thoughts i had through the book and certain passages that i kept rereading:

xie lian with sincerity: "if you pray to me for good luck, i think you might actually get cursed instead"

he actually ascended after 800 years of collecting scraps??? what. it took me until like the end of the novel to realise that wasn't joke and actually real what. what.

he's so pathetic meow meow i cant wait to see him cry and break my heart into itty bitty goey pieces (currently reading book 3 and im in hell now)

mu qing: passive aggressively bitching at xie lian

xie lian with sincerity: who are you?

he's really just murphy's law on embarrassment but at least everyone else is getting dragged into the pit he made (too bad he's right there next to them, falling flat on his cute face)

first arc flash review:

nan feng and fu yao are instantly obvious like i'd be more shocked if its revealed theyre actually not feng xin and mu qing but it's really really funny seeing them fall into pits one after another

wow that bridal sedan scene is so heart fluttering i think i reread each paragraph like 3 times

goddamn what a fucking ml introduction 👏👏

holy shit people actually die in this??? i was expecting the cannon fodder because he was just so fucking annoying but that woman too? damn that's just so sad

pei xiu meeting xie lian here is just retrospectively as embarassing as the second time

also very nice foreshadowing and setting up of themes

second arc flash review:

they just meet like that????

the donghua made it so obvious but even in the book, you can tell hua cheng was just desperately restraining himself whenever xie lian did some freaky flirty shit

he's such a sweet ml, i'm already foreseeing so much fucking suffering to counteract this blissfulness

dni curtain

i can't believe hua cheng just upped and left to get a tattoo AND make a brand new door after seeing the dni curtain

xie lian is so lax about things, its almost concerning like i get why feng xin and mu qing- i mean nan feng and fu yao are "?!?!?!?!" at him sksksk

i gasped at the venom sucking part, like audible breath and everything, holy fuck

also cute detail about how hua cheng disinfected his blade with nan feng's fire and how both of them did that with implicit understanding

honestly i did not foresee the general being xie lian and had to reread that passage again after finding out. so embarassing for him. i close my eyes. but also hua cheng making everyone kowtow to the grave is just that much sweeter

xie lian does not restrain himself with the skinship at all. he immediately becomes embarrassed afterwards yeah but he always instinctively wants to touch hua cheng sooo badly. like how tf is hua cheng still alive - no wait i guess it's because he's dead that's why.

"does it matter if you're human or not?" XIE LIAN YOU CAN'T JUST DO THAT TO HUA CHENG (AND ME)

LMAO nan feng running away when he heard xie lian offer to cook and then running back in to give hua cheng the stink eye and xie lian a warning only to leave again is just so funny, i was soo sad to not see that part in the donghua ver

last part and ending thoughts:

"your highness" ugngnnghhhngnn

the whole conversation between them and their upfrontness with each other is just so refreshing

im suprised they resolved this mystery so quickly, like i was expecting another arc or even a whole more book to dance around this but nope. xie lian says one "hua cheng" and then bam it's in the open.

donghua made xie lian full grab xie lian's face while it was a poke in the book but i approve of both versions, all very cute, all very likely to make hua cheng fall in love even more

awww he has to leave? ohmygod ringringring

and yep thats my thoughts so far

i read the whole book and then watched the donghua btw!! i'm not an "anime first" girlie, im a "the manga was better" loser tryhard always

also i just read all of book 3 by the time i finished writting this so lmao

[apple-pecan]

Arzette: The Jewel of Faramore (2024)

one day in 2007, while curious about the horrible zelda cd-i games, i searched for them on youtube and found a bunch of strange videos that for some reason, had me in tears laughing. this was my introduction to the world of youtube poops, and i couldnt get enough of them. watching them made me even more curious about these games though... what were they like to play?

in a word: BAD. these games are trainwrecks through and through, that are only salvageable though the unintentionally funny cutscenes. the worst part is, if these games had actual time and effort put into them, they COULD'VE been pretty good. they're basically spiritual successors to zelda 2, a game that, while flawed, i thought was pretty cool and interesting. a side scrolling action rpg/platformer in the usual zelda formula? i wonder why they never attempted anything like it again, even with the dozens of zelda spinoffs there are now...

and that leads us to this: an indie platformer/metroidvania deliberately trying to be like the zelda cd-i games, but, you know... actually good this time. did it succeed? hell yeah it did.

if anything, i'd compare this game more to monster world 4 or popful mail, mixed with a zelda or metroid game. you go along levels, helping unhinged NPCs and collecting various items that'll help you, like being able to double jump, shield yourself from projectiles, and even a fucking gun. once you find the right item for the job, you often have to go back to previously played levels to find places to use them.

they make this a bit less like a guessing game, as often an "!" will appear over a level in the world map if theres something new you can do there, but there is a bit of a problem; every time you go back to a level, you have to start from the beginning. there's no warp points where you can just go to the middle or the end; you HAVE to play through the whole level again. if your prudent about collecting items, this doesn't usually become a problem, but in my case during a later stage, i needed 3 sacred candles to open a boss gate, and only had 2. so i had to leave the level, find one more candle in another area, and then go ALL the way back through the level just to open that gate. it's a hard level too, so it took me a while to get where i was. stuff like that aside, the game is pretty solid and is proof that the zelda cd-i games could've actually been fun in more capable hands.

aesthetically, the music is also very good; emulating the kind of stuff you'd hear in 80's/early 90's cd games. i definitely got Ys vibes from some of the tracks, which is obviously a good thing. the cutscenes are deliberately deranged and uncomfortable, with wildly inconsistent art styles. there was one cutscene where it was blatantly rotoscoped and everyone animated really bizarrely and it really got under my skin. it's perfect.

the characters you meet are also very funny; there's a frog voiced by vinny vinesauce who wants "FINE DINING", and by that he means flies dipped in gold. the first boss is a horse who can't stop accidentally making horse puns, much to his dismay. there's a really fast little character who gives you shoes that increase your movement speed, saying "GOTTA GO FAST!" and then runs so fast he accidentally opens a portal to the ninth dimension and gets sucked inside. most of all though, there's a buff moose who forges you the ultimate weapon, but not before doing this game's version of the sideshow bob rake scene and hammers away on an anvil for nearly a whole entire minute before the sword is finished as arzette is bored out of her mind. to really hammer it in (hehe :3), this is the only cutscene in the game you can't skip. it's all really funny and worth playing just for these wacky cutscenes.

one thing i didn't expect was for the game to eventually have a bit more down to earth, serious narrative, complete with a character death that caught me by surprise. a theme of the game is to break the traditions we've known for ages and try to find newer, better ways to do things; don't just throw a book (that's made to orrrrderrrrr) at the evil bad guy and call it a day, cuz someday, he's just gonna escape and come back again. what if you found a way to vanquish the ultimate evil for GOOD? the ending was surprisingly sentimental for a wacky cd-i youtube poop game. one cutscene showing the defeat of a particularly irredeemably evil boss was also pretty cathartic; i'll let you watch that for yourself.

in short, this is a short but sweet little platformer that pays homage to a pair of the worst games ever made, but actually does things right this time. it's a parody of bad cd-i games sure, but in a way it also feels sincere, like an actual tribute to games that are so awful they're amazing. i'm very much excited at the prospect of a potential sequel, cuz this game was great and could be even better with some improvments, and i wanna see more of these characters and their unhinged shenanigans again. needless to say, dopply... YOU WON!

8/10

NOTE: there is an i.m. meen lookalike who works in a library. immediate game of the year

[lilysdaydreams]

Praise Bingus (No fucking way)

→  I do not claim to know corpse- therefore please don't think that this is what he would actually act like, or that any details about his life are actually true. this is fiction.

→ Pairing: Corpse Husband X Fem!Reader

→ Genre: Angst and fluff. (FLUFF IS COMING I SWEAR)

→ Words: 3.9k

→ In a world where everyone is born with a mark on their wrist, two souls come together over the power of bingus.

→ (this isnt crack lol)

→ Warnings: Lots of swearing, um self-depreciation? rejection (kinda) and negative thoughts overall. Sorry im new to warnings.

→ Authors Note: this is the first time im doing like angst so please tell me if I did well? Um also, I’ve already started on the part 2 so keep your eyes out for that. If you wanna be tagged for part two please comment and lemme know. Also check out my other fics if you want!

→ Buy me a coffee

Part two  →    

~~~

Soulmates were a phenomenon. They'd been there for ages, drawn into the Egyptian tomb paintings, seen in the cave paintings from millions of years ago, talked about in stories passed down from generation to generation. They could be matching drawings, first words, names; all black before the soulmates met and turning gold the moment they talked to each other. There wasn't a scientist in the world who could explain the phenomenon.

You'd received your mark at birth just like everyone else, a sentence running around your wrist,

"No fucking way."

Your parents weren't that happy when you asked at the age of 4 what "fucking" meant but it wasn't that bad. You were happy that you had something unique, something other than the "Hi," or "Excuse me," that was on every other arm.

When you were 13, a little girl on the train pointed to your wrist and asked her mom what it meant. Ever since then, you'd taken to wearing bracelets over it. This had turned out to be a good idea because a few years later you started making Youtube videos. At the age of 16, you started a Youtube channel where you focused on a variety of things; makeup, fashion, games, art, skits and a whole lot more.

At the age of 20, you had a steady following of a little more than a million subscribers, and you had moved to LA to be closer to all your Youtube friends. You hadn't just grown on Youtube, you'd also started a lot of side projects. You were known for the art that you did on the side, along with the makeup palette you'd come out with a year ago. Soon you were planning to release a merch collection, one that you had been working on for a whole year now.

You hadn't met your soulmate at this point but honestly, you didn't really mind. Balancing Youtube and study (along with all your other side projects) was hard. There was no need to add the struggle of love into it... Or that's what you told yourself anyways.

There were days though, days where you wished you had someone to hug, someone to cuddle in bed with, someone to go on long walks with. You didn't let yourself wallow on it that long though. Crying about it was gonna do absolutely nothing.

It started on a rainy day. The story of you and him. You were editing your soon to be uploaded video, an e-girl outfits lookbook, which had been requested by your followers. Your personal style was all over the place and your previous soft girl and cottage care look books had done well, so you decided to continue the series.

You eyes blurred as you looked at the same point of the video, and you sighed, removing your glasses and rubbing your eyes. Your editor was sick and had let you know that they wouldn't be able to edit it by the deadline so here you were, editing it yourself. You stretched in your chair letting out a yawn. You were contemplating on whether to make coffee or not when your phone pinged.

"Nooooo" you whined when you noticed it was on the coffee table that was just a little out of your reach. Stretching your foot out, you tried to grab it between your toes and then sighed when the phone fell.

"I have zero luck, I swear" you muttered to yourself, bending to pick up the phone.

The text was from Rae, asking you to join a game of Among Us. You and Rae had been friends for a bit now, which all started when she came across your art and decided to order something from you. You had chatted and clicked immediately, immediately becoming fast friends. Ever since the lockdown started, she often asked you to join in on Among us games and your friendship had really grown over these past few months.

You sent a quick "sure!" and then went to your table, waiting for the PC to turn on. Quickly tweeting out that you were streaming, you opened up Youtube and turned on the stream, saying a quick hello and letting them know what you'd be doing.

"Rae just invited me guys, I don't really know who's there," you mumbled, replying to a comment asking you who you were playing with.

You squinted your eyes, joining the voice chat and then opening your phone camera to quickly check that you didn't look horrible. Sure you didn't really care about how you looked but it was always good to check that you didn't have anything stuck between your teeth before you turned on the camera.

There was already a conversation going on, between who you thought was Corpse and Sykkuno, judging by their voices.

"Yeah I could totally do that. Get a cat and name it Bingus. I wonder if th-"

You gasped when you heard what they were talking about and unmuted yourself immediately yelling "PRAISE LORD BINGUS" and effectively shocking everyone in the chat.

A moment of silence and then Rae yelled: "OH MY FUCKING GOD Y/N, YOU SCARED THE CRAP OUT OF ME."

You giggled as everyone groaned and whined, saying hi as they realised who it was. You had played with Sykkuno and the others a few times before but you'd never met Corpse before. You'd heard his voice though, as he was trending on twitter constantly over the past few weeks. Once they all quietened down, you realised Corpse hadn't said anything. Since you knew everyone else in the lobby, you introduced yourself, wondering if you'd scared him a bit too hard.

"Hey Corpse, I'm Y/N from Y/C/N, its so nice to finally meet you," you said gritting your teeth at you awkward introduction. For a second there was no response and then three words were said that made your jaw drop to the floor.

"No fucking way"

He had whispered it, obviously still in shock, and your eyes widened in surprise as a tingle spread all over your body. So this was what everyone meant by "you'll just know," when you asked them about how you would recognize your soulmate.

"Holy shit" you thought frozen in your seat.

Never had you been more glad that you hadn't turned the camera on yet.

"Uhhhh-" you started, but stopped now knowing what to say.

What the fuck were you supposed to do now.

"Wha- Whats wrong?" Rae asked after a moment passed.

Corpse cleared his throat and started "Its um, shes my -" and you cut him off, heart beating in your chest.

"Nothing. Its nothing." you said talking over him. "Who else are we waiting for Rae?" you asked joining the lobby quickly and choosing red as your colour.

"Uh one more person," she said slowly, still a bit confused.

"Oh awesome!" you said fake enthusiasm prevalent in your voice. "So Sykkuno," you started, wanting to keep the conversation going. "How's Bimbus doing?"

Sykkuno launched into a story of Bimbus and you blew out a sigh of relief, mind still numb over the revelation.

Corpse was your soulmate.

The guy who had literally went viral the past few weeks was your soulmate.

You'd finally found him.

You heard Rae cut Sykkuno off, telling everyone she was starting the game and muttered a "Thank god" when the words "CREWMATE" appeared on your screen. You would not have been able to play imposter at the moment, your mind pretty much stuck on the fact that Corpse was your fucking soulmate.

Heading down to admin, you realised you hadn't said anything yet to the stream so you quickly turned on your cam, saying a quick sorry to the viewers.

"Sorry guys, I forgot to put the camera on," you smiled focusing on card swipe.

"I hope everyone's been okay, I know this was quite sudden, but Rae invited me and I was like why not you know," you said rambling as you moved to comms and did the task there.

Lights were called and you moved to electrical, arriving there just as Leslie fixed them. You moved into the back of electrical doing the three tasks you had there when Sykkuno suddenly came in and went straight to standing on top of the vent.

You giggled already knowing his trick.

"Okay guys," you mumbled watching Sykkuno wiggle on the vent. "do we trust Sykkuno or not?"

"You know what," you said making a split second decision. "Its the first game, we might as well."

Joining him on the vent, you stilled for a second and then breathed a sigh of relief when he didn't automatically kill you.

"See, what did I tell you guys huh?" you question smiling straight at the camera. "I knew Sykkuno could be trusted."

You decided to follow Sykkuno going into reactor with him and starting 'Simon says' and just as you were on the last part, a body was found making you let a whine out.

"Guysss," you whined to the camera as Rae started talking about how she had found Daves body in admin.

"Um, I havent been in admin since the start of the game," you said, "also I can clear Sykkuno, for the last part of the round, he's been with me since lights went out."

Sykkuno confirmed it, "Yup that's right, also I can hard clear Y/N cuz guess what? She stood on the vent with me and none of us died."

Everyone chuckled as he said "Thats good enough for me."

"Uh, I was in navigation mostly." said Lily.

"Poki, can I just ask what you were doing?" said Sean, an undercurrent of mirth present.

"Me?" asked Poki speaking for the first time. "What was I doing?"

"You weren't doing any tasks, you were literally just walking from one side of medbay to the other when I peeked in."

Poki started laughing, trying to get her words out at the same time.

"Okay so-" a giggle. "okay okay- I was just, I was trying to um do the beep test," she said finally breaking down and making everyone else laugh as well.

"What the fuck?" you said, laughing at the image in your mind.

"My chat told me to do it last game so I decided to do it now, I was literally just playing around," she said finally, adding "I swear I'm not imposter" at the end.

"Hmmm," you hummed, bringing a hand up to stroke your chin. "Are you sure it was last game Poki... hm...."

Giggling at Poki indignant "YES it was last game", you quickly skipped voting like everyone else as the timer went into the last ten seconds.

Humming a tune under your breath, you went back to reactor, taking a minute to carefully do Simon says and then moved to the other task counting out one two three as you pressed on the numbers. Humming, you moved out of reactor, only to come face to face with Corpse. You paused for a second, and then moved ahead, refusing to show anything on camera. For some reason he followed you as you went to storage, looking at you while you did the trash.

"Why is he just staring?" you mumbled, biting your lip. God, you really didn't wanna think of him right now. You started walking to shields, him still walking with you when lights were called and not a second later a body was reported.

Suddenly there was screaming your ears as Toast and Rae both started accusing each other.

"Wait- Wait WAIT" yelled Poki trying to get them to stop. "What happened?"

"I'll explain" declared Rae, not letting toast get a word in. "We were in navigation okay, me, Toast and Leslie. Lights went out, and suddenly a report buttons there. It's either Toast or someone came in just as lights went out and killed but that doesn't seem likely because I didn't see anyone anywhere near us at all. Anyways I'm fucking telling the truth guys, its Toast, he's the one who did it."

"Toast, do you have anything to say for yourself?" asked Corpse, his voice making your insides shiver.

"Holy shit, this is my soulmate", you thought for the fiftieth time.

"Uh yeah," replied toast. "I didn't do it."

Everyone laughed as he continued.

"Like seriously, I wouldn't do anything like this because it'd be a stupid move from my own part, and I think Raes smart enough to not do this as well. I think someone else came in just as lights went down and killed immediately, which to be honest, was pretty smart of them."

"Okay so I can clear Corpse," you cut in noticing the timer was close. "he was with me in weapons when it happened, he wouldn't have had time to go all the way up, or even vent there because we were literally walking in."

"Yup that's right," confirmed corpse.

"I'm in cafeteria" said Poki.

"Yeah, I saw her on my way to weapons," said Sykkuno, "and I'm in weapons right now,"

"I'm in lower engine" said Sean, and Lily said she was in reactor.

"I think it's Toast," you mumbled and then rose your voice to talk over everyone. "Look okay fine, maybe he said it was a stupid move and he wouldn't do it but maybe he did it for that exact reason. He thought he could get away with it because no one would expect him to do something like that."

As the timer started going down by 10, you voted for Toast and it turned out 3 had skipped the vote while five had voted for him.

damn.

"Guys you actually voted for him?" you said in a high voice, re-enacting one of Sykkunos most said lines.

You heard a "oh for gods sake" from Rae before everyone went silent and you giggled as you moved back down to weapons to do your tasks.

You finished all your tasks and decided to go to security to check where everyone is. Humming as you moved through the electrical hallway, you narrowed your eyes as Corpse came out of electrical and went towards storage. Quickly ducking in you didn't see a body so you headed back out, going into cams and gasping as you saw the body. Reporting immediately you were shocked to see the four kills that had happened. Now only you, Corpse, Sean and Rae were left.

"Oh my god," you mumbled confused. Either there were still two imposters, and Toast wasn't the imposter or the imposter literally killed and did nothing else. Now either that could mean that its definitely Rae if Toast wasn't the imposter, or that it was Corpse as the only imposter left. That was a bit weird though becuase he could have totally killed you at the start of the game. You didn't suspect Sean at all.

"What the fuck?" mumbled Corpse, and Rae made her animal noises expressing her shock.

"Okay," you said taking charge and relaying the kill and your theory to everyone. "So either it was Toast and there's only one other imposter, who is Corpse. Or Toast wasn't an imposter and there's two of them left. I-" you took a deep breath in at the end, very confused. " I don't know anymore,"

"I think its Corpse as well,"

Corpse who hadn't said anything up till this moment suddenly started stammering out "hey-hey uh let-lets not gang up on me okay. It's not-"

"No, wait, its because Y/N said you came out of electrical right, and I saw you in upper engine literally a bit ago and you went down. I went towards cafeteria so I don't know exactly where you went but its totally possible that you killed."

You voted form him after that, convinced it was Corpse, and the other followed quickly.

"Guys what the fuck, at least give me a chance to explain my self" he whined when his body was thrown off the ship seconds later. You cheered when the "VICTORY" sign was displayed across the screen, bringing up your chat and laughing at Toast as he pretended to be angry at me.

"That was a great round, good work Y/N"

"Thankyou" you mumbled staring at your chat. You were confused when you saw the absolute influx of messages on there, and you were barely able to read them because they were going so fast. You scrolled up, and read through the few of the messages;

"You've made corpse sad."

"Corpse has literally been so quite since you came in, can you leave."

"Omg stop with the hate messages, its not her fault if corpse isn't talking to you"

"are you his ex or something? What was that reaction at the start?"

"what did you do? Corpse literally hasn't said a word since you came in."

"Um..."

Corpse POV

Corpses heart stopped for a minute, his breath catching. The words on his wrist glowed gold, and he stared at the little red character standing there.

This person was the reason that he had "PRAISE BINGUS" stretched across his wrist.

They were the only reason that he had searched "Bingus" on google for all of his life. The only reason Corpse knew about the meme before anyone else was because he was constantly monitoring the word online. Ever since March, he had been waiting with bated breath, anxious that he could meet his soulmate at any moment. and here you were.

For some reason, he had never expected that he would meet you in among us, or while he was on stream. He always thought it'd be someone outside. It was a bit stupid in hindsight as all he did nowadays was play among us.

He heard you introduce yourself to him but the only thing that came out of his mouth was “No fucking way”.

Immediately after he wanted to slap himself.

“Idiot” he thought to himself. “At least try to make a good impression.”

When Rae asked what was wrong, heat sprung to his cheeks as he started revealing that they were soulmates, but Y/N cut him off, saying that it was nothing.

Corpse’s heart sank a little then.

'Maybe she’s just a private person,' he reasoned with himself.

'I shouldn’t have tried to say it on stream either. God, I’m a fucking idiot, if I said it, literally everyone would know and not only would I have hated the attention, she probabaly would have as well.'

Convincing himself that she was right, he reassured himself that it wasn’t because of him. She wasn’t revealing it because she probably didn't want all the attention.

For some reason though, his heart sank even more when Y/N didnt talk to him, instead talking to sykkuno about his dog. Like sure he could understand not wanting to reveal they were soulmates but shouldn’t she at least wanna talk to him? At this point he wouldn’t even mind if she talked about his voice like everyone else.

He groaned when the word "Imposter" came across his screen, his and Toasts character standing together. He was not in the right mindset right now to be able to be a good imposter. Breathing in deeply he continued in the game, with the first round passing by quick. The second round, he saw Y/N and stood with her for a bit wondering if he should kill her. Her red character moved to weapons and he sighed moving the mouse over the kill button. Just as he was thinking of clicking a body was found. Corpse swore as Toast flew off the ship. Deciding he needed to speed it up he killed four people in the round, hissing when the meeting was called. The moment Y/N accused him, he knew it was over. He didn't even bother defending himself much, just hoping the game would end soon.

When they were in the lobby, he quickly told everyone that he was going to leave because his internet was acting up. Turning off the stream after saying a quick thank you to everyone, he leaned back in his seat breathing through his nose.

What the fuck was his life.

Even his soulmate didnt want him. Honestly, he should have expected this. Abandoned at 12 with no one around him, why did his expect his soulmate to even give a fuck about him. Tears pricked his eyes and he blinked trying to get rid of them. He breathed in deeply, grabbing the water on the table and taking a big gulp. He had never hated himself more than he did right now. Why couldnt he have an easier life.

“Why cant I just fucking be NORMAL” he yelled throwing the empty bottle of water at the wall.

Throwing himself into bed, he scrunched up his eyes, hoping that sleep would come today, not noticing as his phone lit up with a single message.

Your POV

You stayed for another game and then ducked out apologizing and making an excuse up.

"Sorry it was such a short stream, everyone," you said pouting at the camera. "It was fun though so hopefully I get to do it again." Waving goodbye, you turned off the camera and leaned your head back staring at the ceiling.

What the actual fuck.

Grabbing your phone, you stared at it for a bit. Everything that you had pushed to the back of your mind in the game, was suddenly in the forefront.

The only thing you knew about Corpse was that he had a really deep voice, he narrated horror movies, and he maybe did music?

'Rae mentioned that once right?' you thought to yourself.

You unlocked the phone and then locked it again, too scared to actually do anything.

Unlocked.

Locked.

Unlocked.

Locked.

"Oh get a grip," you muttered to yourself, opening the phone and sending a text to Rae.

‘Hey Rae, do you have corpses number? Do you mind sending it to me, I need to tell him something.’

A reply came in a minute,

‘umm, why. he's pretty private so idk i don't rlly wanna give his number if he doesn't want someone to have it’

You sighed, and decided you might as well tell her. You knew Rae wouldn't betray your trust.

‘He's my soulmate’

Immediately a ‘AHDJHAKJKAGDAK’ came as a reply and you giggled at the string of emojis after it.

‘Don't tell anyone,’ you sent quickly, trying to calm her down.

‘Okay okay, its XXX - XXX - XXXX, ASHAGDH IM DYING OMG. GO TALK TO HIM.’

Biting your lip you added Corpse into your contacts hesitating before putting a small black heart next to his name.

"Already simping," you mumbled under your breath, hands hovering over the keyboard as you struggled to think of what to write.

You finally decided on 'Hey, its Y/N, can I call?' thinking that something short would be the best way to go. Hand hovering over the send button, you sucked in a breath and pressed it, waiting with bated breath.

A minute passed.

And then five.

And then, without you even you realising, it'd been half an hour of you just looking at your phone.

An hour later, you were slumped on your desk, eyes closed and snoring lightly, the phone still open, the message you sent lighting up the screen.

tbc.

[fabricated-misslieness]

pairing: bokuto, iwaizumi, kageyama, kuroo, miya twins, and ushijima x shorter manager male reader

req: yes | cw: suggestive | 16+

alex: MOST OF THE TALL THIGH GUYS IN HAIKYUU SIMP FOR THE SHORTER MALE MANAGER AFTER THEY FOUND OUT HE LIKES BIG THIGHS(and tits and all that) WHILE THEY TRY TO MAKE THEIRS LOOK BIG AND JUICY????

hcs of tall boys simping for a shorter manager because they like thicc body parts

a/n: i didn’t mention this because i did want to write it, but alex, reqs were closed. unless you suggested this for 1.5k, in which case, just why?

Introduction

A volleyball training camp consisting of some of Japan’s most prominent high schools. Chaotic, right?

Well, many schools came: Aoba Johsai, Fukurodani, Nekoma, Inarizaki, Itachiyama, and Shiratorizawa.

These training camps often led to the teams’ managers getting to know each other better and bonding. And as Itachiyama’s manager, even if most of them were girls, you were no exception.

Which meant, while all the managers collectively did their manager duties like refilling water bottles, you talked.

And, for some reason, the topic of boys came along and what ‘type’ of boy they liked.

You see, the girls were nice. They looked for personalities, rather than body parts - most of them anyway.

You on the other hand, well, you loved thick boys.

Prominent man boobs, thick thighs, fat asses.

“Is that… why you became a manager?”

“Is that why you don’t hand out towels?”

Unbeknownst to you, and the girls, a few people were eavesdropping on you.

 

Bokuto

“I’d say that fits your description, right Bokuto?” Konoha playfully elbowed him on the chest, but the ace wasn’t paying attention. “Eh, Bokutooo? You there?”

He was not, in fact, there.

He really had no plan to charm you at all. If he already had these traits, surely your eyes would drift off to him, right?

But obviously, he subconsciously starts showing off more when you’re watching his match.

He starts glancing at you every time he scores a point. Slowly, glances turn into looks that ask for praise, like a puppy; and then looks turn into verbal “Did you see that (y/n)?!”

You don’t know when or why he started fixating on you, but you certainly weren’t complaining.

Thanks to your praise, Bokuto slowly starts getting more comfortable around you. Then, one day after he scores the game winning point, he runs over to you.

Before you know it, he’s pulled you into a hug.

“WOO (Y/N), DID YOU SEE THAT?!”

But you don’t reply, because 1) you can’t with your face smushed against man boobies, and 2) this is heaven.

Bokuto’s confused, of course, until he realizes your hands on his thighs.

He only laughs it off, until Komori comes. Behind the libero is a possessive looking Sakusa and a scary Iizuna. Komori’s about to spew some protective comment like, “hands of our manager” but you stop him.

The will to stay in this bear hug is stronger than the boobies giving you an inability to speak. “Let me have this, Komori.”

“Ah, right, you like this kind of stuff.” The libero laughs, slowly nudging Sakusa and Iizuna away. 

“What’s this kind of stuff?”

“You, hot stuff.”

 

Iwaizumi

“Iwa-chan, you’re not gonna leave me for him, righ-?”

“Shut up, Oikawa.”

It starts off subtle, wiping off sweat from his face with the bottom of his shirt and making sure to expose his pecs. Though such a thing works when there’s no other thicc boy in the room.

Then he starts stretching more often, particularly his legs.

Sometimes, on particularly hot days, he rolls his shorts even higher up his thigh.

Slowly, as you start to talk more often, he does the same things while you’re hanging out relatively alone.

“Hajime.” 

“Hm?” He stops his stretching, looking at you curiously. You lick your lips, your gaze looking at his thighs.

“Keep stretching.”

He obeys. His thighs flex and stiffen, the stretching starts getting painful, but he doesn’t stop because he knows you like it. When you press a hand against his thigh, he lets out a low groan.

“Fuck, Hajime.”

Finally, he knows you’re absolutely enamoured with his body.

 

Kageyama

“None of us fit that description.”

“Shut up, boke.”

“I mean...you fit that description?”

Each time he knows his gaze is on you, as he’s in the back line ready to receive a serve, he sticks out his ass just that little bit more. Along with tensing his thighs.

Sometimes he drags Hinata to receive his serves somewhere within your vicinity. When Hinata receives it and sends it back to him, he doesn’t catch it. Instead, he lets it fall so that you can watch him bend over to grab it.

He might even shake his ass a little.

One time, when something accidentally falls out of his hands, you confront him.

“Tobio, you’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?”

“Doing what?” He looks at you through his lashes - up for once, booty out and still bending over. Then he has the audacity to shake his bubble butt.

He smiles when you let out a frustrated groan. “That.”

“I still don’t know what you’re referring to.”

 

Kuroo

“Ha, that sorta fits Kuroo. Wait, Kuroo, are you-?”

“Yes, absolutely, yes.”

You know that extremely flexible receive? Yeah? Expect to see that a lot.

It shows off his ass and thighs and just- umph im such a simp

Unlike most others, he’s much more forward about it than others. He won’t outright say it, granted, but he’ll be more touchy with you.

One second, his arm is wrapped around your shoulder. The next, he’s pulled the back of your head to one of his pecs. 

When your team spots this, they rush over to get him to stop. At the forefront of the group is Iizuna. “Hands off our manager.”

Before you can say anything, Kuroo speaks up, “Last time I checked, (y/n)’s his own person. Besides, he enjoy this, right?”

“Yeah.” You don’t defend yourself from Iizuna, because hell, the captain banter is entertainment.

The two captains glare at each other with their competitive yet polite looks. Eventually, Iizuna falters. He can’t argue with you saying you like it, nor does he have the comebacks in him to talk to the ‘provocative expert’.

 

Atsumu Miya

The twins stare at each other, glaring as they usually do. “Dibs.” Atsumu says, and Osamu can’t deny that. It seems he’s missed out on you.

Just like Kuroo, Atsumu is forward.

He is also impatient, so if you don’t catch on the first few times, he’s just going to blur it out.

And that is exactly what happens.

Each time he tries to get your attention, he fails. A subtle wink sent your way, a flex of his bicep, bending and holding on to his knees after a loss penalty, none of them seem to alert you. They don’t, because he’s dumb and doesn’t think to show off the qualities that you like as much as the qualities that he’s confident in.

Which is why he’s here, in front of you while you take a break on the bleachers.

“Miya-san? Don’t you have a game?” You glance down at the court, seeing the rest of Inarizaki playing. They certainly aren’t at their best without their genius setter.

“I like you.”

Your raised eyebrow only taunts him, “And what brought this upon-”

“I know you like me.” He sits next to you, slinging his thighs over your lap. “Don’t you like these thighs?”

“I guess I do, ‘Tsumu.”

 

Osamu Miya

The twins stare at each other, glaring as they usually do. “Dibs.” Osamu calls. Even if Atsumu grumbles and kicks at the ground because he’s missed the opportunity, he can’t deny the power of dibs.

He’s much better at this than Atsumu is. He’s more patient and has no problem with playing the long game.

However, he doesn’t; because unlike Atsumu, he accentuates his qualities that you like.

He pulls up the bottom of his shirt to wipe his face, rolls up his shorts quite high, and generally does things that always have your eyes on his thighs, pecs, or ass.

He’s taunting you, silently telling you to come to him, so that’s what you do.

The next time you find him panting from a run, ass out and bent over, you confront him. Conveniently enough, he’s away from other people.

You make your presence known by putting a hand half on his ass, half on his thigh.

“Oh, heeey, (y/n).” He gives you an all-knowing look, paired with lazy half lidded eyes.

“You know why I’m here, don’t you, ‘Samu?”

“Obviously.”

 

Ushijima Wakatoshi

“I like thick men, the ones with prominent pecs, thick thighs, and bubble butts.”

Sure, he heard it. Sure, he processed it. But did he think about it afterwards? No. Did he connect the dots? No.

In fact, you’re the one attracted to him.

Ushijima is that one oblivious yet extremely suggestive individual. He does squats after practice, thigh-accentuating stretches, bends over without a single thought, this man is blatantly sexy.

You have to keep yourself from doing anything indecent.

So, it’s quite obvious you like him. Anytime he’s in the room, you’re staring at him. As such, Sakusa takes notice, and boy is he disgusted.

“(y/n), please don’t like him.”

Why? He didn’t want to let you date him, it’d turn you into a reminder of one of his most formidable opponents.

“Sakusa, I can’t help it.”

Welp, he’s doomed.

“(y/n), hey.” You’d never really interacted before you approached him. He noticed that you always looked at him, but he didn’t really think about it, nor did he think about why you did it. There were more important things to focus on.

“I like you.”

“Huh?”

He’s so dense, so oblivious, gosh. Good luck with him.

[mollymauk-teafleak]

honey don't feed it

Just some Hades smut! Please reblog and comment over on Ao3!

------

Thanatos has told his love a thousand times to be careful when overindulging in boons from the Olympians. Too many, too much from one god and he starts to get some strange side effects.

Ares' boons make him angry. Dionysius' made him laugh.

Aphrodite's do something entirely different.

------

Thanatos read the note a few times over, hearing it in his lover’s voice.

I need you. Please come home. I love you.

“Let me guess,” the grin on his twin’s face was far too smug for Than’s liking, “You’re taking your break now?”

Than gave him the kind of dark scowl that had been cowing the unruly dead for years but had never seemed to work on anyone who actually knew him. He folded up the note and stowed it in one of the many hidden pockets of his flowing robes. I need you.

“I don’t just drop everything and go running when Zagreus clicks his fingers,” he muttered. Please come home.

“Never said you did,” Hypnos shrugged, leaning back and putting his slippered feet on the desk in a way that was quite unprofessional, not that Than would look anything but petulant if he said so, “Just thought your face really lit up when I said Zag had left you a message…”

Than really hoped his cowl hid enough of his face that his blush couldn’t be seen. Something about Hypnos’ widening grin told him his hopes were in vain. I love you.

“There’s a gap in my schedule,” he sniffed, sheathing his scythe and gathering his robes with as much dignity as he could muster, “An unrelated gap.”

“Sure,” Hypnos shrugged, marking it down on the time sheets, “I’ll tell anyone looking for you to check Zag’s place.”

I need you. Please come home. I love you.

“Best not, I think,” Than said flatly, turning away quickly so he didn’t have to see the expression on Hypnos’ face.

He’d catch up on the work he missed later.

He knew what the problem was as soon as he walked into their chambers. Their chambers, not Zagreus’, it had taken some time to get used to thinking of it that way. But when he hadn’t slept in the Chthonic Wing once since they’d begun openly courting, when half of the items in the close, comfortable room were his own, when the word home evoked images of this place and the godling he shared it with, he’d settled into it.

It wasn’t a smell, not exactly. But it was a presence in the air, like a heat without the warmth or a sound without its timbre. And when Thanatos felt it play across his skin, like a ripple of energy that somehow tasted of pink, he stopped. And he realised how this evening was going to go.

“Tough run today, my love?” he said delicately, hanging up his cloak and moving deeper into the room.

His answer was a low, affirmative grown from Zagreus, curled on his side in the middle of the bed they shared. Around him the aura grew even tighter, thick enough to taste. There was a faint pink flickering behind his green eye, a tension in his muscles as he held himself, an unusual rosy colour in his veins, standing out starkly in his corded wrists as he gripped the sheet underneath him.

Thanatos sighed softly, pushing all thoughts of returning to work out of his mind. He knew the signs of overindulgence in a god’s boon, as varied as they were, there were always common threads. When Zagreus depended too heavily on one rather than using them sparingly and variedly as he’d been told half a hundred times, he would begin to shake, his eyes would unfocus and flicker, he’d experience deep instinctual urges that were nigh on impossible to ignore. What his body demanded, how his brain responded, well that depended on which god he’d been indulging in. Dionyseus’ boons made him slur his words, lose the ability to walk straight, laugh helplessly at anything. Ares’ were especially worrying, making him violent and bloodthirsty, filling him with the need to strike out at something and not stop until exhaustion collapsed him. Too many from Hermes and he would be filled with energy that crackled and sparked, putting him on a level with a small child who’d eaten their body weight in raw sugar.

But none of those gave Zagreus this tense, hungry energy with it’s tinge of rose pink and it’s smell of amber and heat. That was solely the symptom of far too many boons from one goddess of love and lust. That was all Aphrodite.

“I know what you’re going to say,” Zag groaned, his voice strained and coming through clenched teeth. He seemed to be fighting to keep himself still.

“What am I going to say, beloved?” Than murmured, golden eyes sweeping over him, assessing just how far gone he was. There was a shine of sweat pooling in his collarbone, an unmistakable dampness on the inside of his thighs, the red fabric turning dark.

“That I’m an idiot,” Zag moaned, “That I went too far again, that I need to listen to you.”

Thanatos considered that a moment, confirming to himself that he’d locked the door firmly behind him. Then he calmly unclasped his robe at the back and swept it over his head, leaving him bare but for his jewellery, all in one smooth, efficient stroke. He moved to the bottom of the bed, joining Zagreus up on it, setting his hands lightly on his lover’s knees. He knew from experience that far too much sensation right now could easily overwhelm him. Sure enough, just that barest touch of Than’s cool palms through the fabric of his trousers dragged a strangled noise from Zagreus.

“What I was going to say,” Than said patiently, eyes glowing in the candlelight, “Was that I love you too. And I’m here for you. Alright?”

Zag swallowed hard, eyes wide and wet, fixed completely on his lover’s face. Too many of these boons and it wasn’t just what was between Zag’s legs that took control, it was his heart as well, love and lust together. Than knew he needed gentle words, soft touches, closeness. That and to be bent near in half.

After a long few days of solid work, of being apart more than they were together, Thanatos was rather ready for both.

“I love you,” Zag nearly sobbed, whole body trembling with tension that needed release, “Than, please…”

“Slowly,” Than promised, moving to unbuckle his sword belt and unwind his tunic. His lover hadn’t even undressed himself before he’d fallen to the bed, likely nervous of what he might do without even the feeble barrier of fabric, “Gently. I’ll give you what you need but not more than you can take and you’re going to listen to me. Yes?”

“Yes,” Zag was panting as Than rolled his leggings down, casting them off the side of the bed though he wasn’t entirely sure they were salvageable, “Yes, gods, anything. Just fuck me or kiss me or let me fuck you, I’m dying here.”

“You’re not dying, we’ve done this before…”

Than kept his voice level but there was something in the heat rolling off his skin right now as he took away the last of his adornments, the salt and musk smell of him, something animalistic about it all. He was finding it hard to concentrate. Or he would, if such a thing could pull his focus at a time like this…

“Come here, my love,” he moved Zag’s lean thighs apart, making him whine at just the slight touch of his breath, “I’ll take good care of you.”

Zagreus nearly came the moment Than’s tongue touched his flesh, a kind of electricity seizing him. But it passed, achingly, and then his fingers were in Than’s hair, taking full advantage of how long it had been getting of late, how easily Than had bowed to a sleepy, murmured comment from his lover a few weeks ago that he looked beautiful with it long. He tugged needily, hungrily, but still not enough to truly hurt, as Than fluttered kisses between his lips. He built slowly, starting to lap and suck and slip his tongue into him only when he was sure Zag could bear it. Every movement drew more gasps and moans from his lover, more grasping at his hair, strained whispers of muddied devotion.

Than had seen the sea of course, it claimed so many souls he had to go and collect, even some that were peaceful. He’d stood on it’s shores, felt it’s salt sting the inside of his nose and throat and wanted badly to be able to swim in it. When Zagreus came, sudden and sharp and with a high, wild cry, Than felt for a moment as if he had.

“Well then…” he drew back, wiping at his mouth and cheeks with the back of his hand.

“Than…” Zag moaned, relief in his eyes but only for a moment, the aura still twitching and writhing around him, “S’not enough...still burning…”

“I know, my love,” Than was already moving, taking his wrists now, immediately feeling his racing pulse under his skin, “I cleared my schedule, don’t worry.”

“Yeah, your workload was my biggest concern, just edged out my cock literally feeling like it was on fire…” Zag said dryly, making Thanatos smile. If his lover felt enough like himself to crack his little jokes, then his work was having the intended effect.

“Let’s see what we can do about that then, hm?” Than grinned, bending to his task again.

It took another half hour of slow, almost lazy ministrations between Zag’s thighs, a gradual introduction of his fingers, all very cautious and almost worshipful before he judged his lover ready for something more without it breaking his brain. He was still burning hot, the sheets under him near ruined, thighs shining with slick in the low light. But he could speak without that wanton whine in his voice, he could focus on something other than Than’s fingers or tongue- he’d had him reciting poetry a moment ago just to prove he could- and his eyes looked their usual colour. The boons were slackening their hold on him, bit by bit, as the seconds ticked by and Zag’s needs were filled.

But that didn’t mean they couldn’t have a little more fun before it was over.

“Want my cock?” he purred, licking his fingers lightly as he sat back on his heels.

“Gods, yes, you tease,” Zag groaned, eyes closely following the play of his lover’s fingers, the way his tongue ran across them, “I’ve only been begging since you walked through the damn door.”

“And if I’d given it to you then, you’d have ridden me until you blacked out while scratching my back to ribbons,” Than explained with prim patience, “What happened to listening to me?”

“Sorry,” Zag muttered, his kiss swollen lips sliding into a needy pout, “I’ll behave. I’ll listen. Please?”

Than smiled crookedly, drawing their hips close, throwing his lover’s legs over his shoulder, “Seeing as you asked so nicely.”

“Watch the feet, you’ll singe your hair again,” Zag hummed with a hint of smugness rather too strong for someone in his situation.

“I thought we agreed never to speak of that again, my love…”

Than pressing into him chased the look off Zag’s face, replacing it with one of mixed relief and rapture. Than had to bite down on his own gasp as his lover’s body opened up to him, he’d been neglecting himself as he’d focused on Zag’s predicament and was only now realising how much.

“Oh gods, yes,” Zag moaned, eyelids half closed, head tilted back, “Right there. That’s where you belong, my love, my heart…”

Than swallowed hard, bracing himself with his hands bracketing Zag’s head. It was the effect of the boons, he told himself. They were not two lovers in a sappy play whispering ridiculous, overwrought words of passion in some moonlight drenched garden.

But wasn’t it fun to pretend.

“My beloved,” he answered, voice a little strained as he began to thrust, “I’ve got you, you’re here with me and I’m going to give you just what you need...”

Zag whimpered helplessly, legs locked tight as chords around him, soon unable to do anything but gasp his name and strained pleas for more, faster, harder. Than answered, giving him everything he could, everything he had left, kissing him through the surging pink haze until he wasn’t quite sure who it was coming from or who it was ensnaring any more. And he wasn’t fully certain he could care, not when the world shrank down to Zag’s hands on his face and in his hair, his warm, wet heat around his cock, his breathy gasps of his name, how could he care about anything else? How could he care about anything but the one he loved?

“Come with me,” he whispered into Zag’s mouth, hips working hard and heavy.

Apparently he’d just been waiting for permission, as soon as the words left Than’s mouth, Zag arched up and came hard with a strangled cry of his lover’s name that sounded as sweet as any prayer. Than was helpless and could only follow, tumbling over his own edge, filling Zag deeply, crying out in a way that was very undignified and very un-death like.

When his vision cleared and his brain felt connected to his limbs again, Thanatos opened his eyes to see his husband smiling crookedly up at him.

“I think I’m all set,” he chuckled, eyes a little unfocused but very much his own beautiful colours, the only thing in the air being the smell of sex and candles that had guttered out while they’d been distracted.

They untangled themselves carefully, cataloguing their various aches and pulled muscles, collapsing over each other against the pillows.

“So,” Than shifted so Zag could pillow his head on his chest, “What are we going to do next time?”

“Use the boons sparingly,” Zag just sounded exhausted now, Than was beginning to suspect the much needed bathing would have to wait until after a brief nap, “Vary them. And listen to Thanatos.”

“Good boy,” Than laughed, stroking his hair back from his forehead, “And?”

Zag thought before frowning sleepily, confused, “And...and I don’t know.”

Than leaned down and kissed him softly, lingering before murmuring tenderly, “And I will always come running whenever you need me because I love you.”

Zag smiled at him, reaching up to trace the curve of his nose, “I love you too.”

Thanatos knew Zagreus was satisfied, he could go back to work and catch up on the souls he missed, the ones that were probably mounting every second he spent watching his lover drift into sleep.

But still he didn’t move, he didn’t stop letting the silky black hair run through his fingers again and again, admiring his beloved’s face, relaxed and peaceful in sleep. He would go back to being the emissary of Death, he’d pick up his scythe and he’d return to work. But not now.

For now, how could he care about anything but the man he loved?

[loopy-froots]

Introduction Post! (TW: SA, PTSD, etc.)

Hello slasher fandom! I’m fairly new to this side of tumblr, so forgive me if I don’t understand how all this works yet! I just thought I’d introduce myself because I’ve already posted drawings and fanfiction writings so far, but maybe some of you want to know who’s behind it? If not that’s totally fine, just keep scrolling! But if you’re curious, keep reading! Btw! I’d love to get to know any of you as well, so feel free so say hi! :^]

Facts about me:

I go by the name Donn on this blog (for safety reasons I won’t be sharing my actual or preferred name anywhere on this blog, sorry!)

I chose the name Donn because of the name coming from the Celtic god of dead souls (I’m a Celtic witch by blood so I thought it’d be fitting)

My preferred pronouns when I write are she/they (leaning towards she atm because of some personal issues I deal with irl, but irl I prefer they/them more strictly… does that make any sense?)

Anyways, I’m 18+ and I very much prefer my viewers to be 18+ ONLY because of the NSFW content I post… and I also don’t want to influence anyone that impressionable cuz I have a kinda fucked up mindset atm…

But I hope that’s alright! I know kids will do what they want, and there’s not always much we can do to stop it, but please just be respectful of my wishes and DNI!

I have severe PTSD from many irl traumas that have happened to me throughout my life, and I currently live in an kind of abusive household, so my mental health has not been good…

That’s partially why I started drawing and writing fandom stuff cuz it’s currently what’s keeping me going!

I have diagnosed Adhd, but I take meds for it and am doing slightly better with my productivity! That’s why I’ve been able to crank out as much content as I have in the past few days!

I have undiagnosed autism, but it’s a work in progress cuz I’m like pretty sure I am autistic (for many reasons, the more you get the know me the more obvious it’ll get)

I am disabled in many ways: chronic physical and mental pain/illnesses, hard of hearing, etc.

I’m extremely liberal so DNI if you’re gonna be a bigot or anything cuz I will block you!

I have a partner (Who does not know about this blog yet cuz I’m v shy about sharing this kinda stuff with the people I love… partially cuz of my trauma from past relationships)

Ive suffered from THREE separate abusive romantic relationships… all of which kinda fucked with my head… so forgive my insecurities and everything! (I’m working on it tho!) but this partner I’m currently with is AMAZING AND LOVING so I’m v happy with them!

TW! I’m a S/A survivor, and it was by a friend I trusted, so I get very skittish by people irl because of the betrayal… but I find it easier to get to know people online cuz it’s not as traumatic imo

As you can see, I overshare EVERYTHING for literally no reason… like it just gushes out of me without me being able to stop it… Sorry if you’re unhappy with it! Feel free to block me if it bothers you!

I am currently seeing a therapist and a psychiatrist!! They both help me a lot with functioning as a normal person (even tho there’s no real such thing as a “normal” person imo, but it helps me survive in the society I live in)

I used to be goth, but now I’m forever torn between being goth again or being a cottagecore lesbian lol (I usually dress femme even tho my brain makes me feel like a boy a lot of the time…?)

I am extremely bisexual! Like holy shit! How come everyone is so hot?? Lol but seriously, I go all ways (I know some people say that’d make me pan but I prefer the term bisexual over being pan)

I used to be a little, but I’m not anymore because too many people took advantage of me when I was in my little mindset… I don’t let myself regress anymore unless I’m absolutely alone, but that’s rarely ever (my little age was around 10 btw)

I am extremely sensitive and am an empath! I feel my emotions EXTREMLY STRONG so I overreact to everything, am very passionate about the things I’m in love with, and cry at any given moment! I cannot and will not help it! I’ve been told too many times that I’m too sensitive and that I’m a crybaby and that my heart is too big for my body, but I don’t care anymore! Im refusing to see this as anything but a blessing for now on! Sensitive bitches are the baddest bitches lol

I used to get lots of hallucinations/psychosis, but I take meds for it and am now much better and less paranoid!

I still get paranoid about social situations tho for time to time, as im a very insecure person :(

Im a switch/power bottom! I like to be dominant on occasion, but I prefer to be a bratty sub most of the time!

I am a collector of taxidermy things!! I have several insects on my walls, as well as animal paw jewelry! If you don’t like it that’s alright! Just don’t tell me cuz I will block you! I make sure all my collection items are from humane sources and all the animals die naturally in the wild!

I am a HARDCORE clown/masked person fan… like clowns are sooo gay and sexy like why must you jingle jangle your lil clown bells when you dance like that??😩 and masked persons are just so mysterious and sexy omg

Cicero fro Skyrim was literally my clown sexual awakening… murder clown man… with a squeaky voice… yes… must have!

My first sexual awakening tho was probably Danny Phantom (Which is sooo funny cuz my partner actually named themself after him… coincidence? I think not! God does have a plan! Lol jk… unless?🥺👉🏻👈🏻)

Yes, I use the 🥺👉🏻👈🏻 emojis unironically… no, I’m not proud of it😔

HMU if you relate to any of this or just want to be friends! I’m literally so desperate for friends cuz my old roommate made me cut ties with them and then they spread rumors about me to all my other friends until no one would talk to me anymore… :( so I’m v lonely run…

But anyways, yeah that’s basically me… a huge mess but I’m on my way to getting better I guess…?

If you’re still reading all of this, THANK YOU KIND BEING! You are unlike any other…🥺❤️

Okay bye loves!

[onepartbrave]

an FYI ~

Without a doubt, I’ve been distracted from RP but I digress… I’ve also been dipping into fanficland, a Strifehart feels run being my first instalment yet to come.

A snippet below, I guess? I’m quite dubious when sharing as I sometimes feel I don’t get Squall just right, let alone other characters… ergo, this leap of faith? Eh. Enjoy what will come, I guess?

Brief synopsis; Cloud is a werewolf that lives in the world of FF8. Other characters will appear, but for now, Strifehart mains~

In the beginning, not all was well. Those born from extraordinary circumstances – “Mythics” – were scorned, exiled from belonging in any place of man due to their collective (misplaced) fear; of not knowing what they might do, despite not knowing what they might not do. 

Long, tedious battles took place, sometimes figuratively, mostly physically, until one fateful day, a breakthrough finally happened. One man, known among mankind as a hero of their time, used his influence over the world to fight for them, and he fought fiercely for their rights as living beings to survive and thrive with everyday people. 

Vampires, once feared through centuries of misrepresentation and slander, strolled about in broad daylight, dressed head-to-toe in protective gear, specialised to deflect the life-threatening UV rays. Werewolves, once thought of as nothing but mindless monstrosities carrying an uncontrollable, infectious disease, walked among the public without fears of being ruthlessly hunted. Fairies, demons, pixies, sirens – so many Mythics roaming freely for, potentially, the first time in their lives. 

** 

Squall Leonhart was, for lack of a better term, fed up. 

Why, one might inquire? Simply put, in the outskirts of Winhill, he’d purchased a luxuriously large plot of land and set up a homely ranch-slash-house for himself. The final decision to settle down in the middle of nowhere was partially due to the beautiful scenery, mostly from the unrivalled privacy and his overwhelming need to stay out of the limelight to enjoy his reluctant retirement. On the land roamed a few dozen chickens, some cows, a random goat or two, and a grumpy old chocobo that wandered in one day and stayed, allegedly liking what she saw (and whom he’d fondly named Chocorita – he wasn’t great at naming things, sue him). 

In the solitude of Winhill and the mountains, he’d expected peace. For the first time in his life, he wanted to take it slow, to relax and maybe take up a boring hobby that kept him off his feet (just as the doctor prescribed, ugh). Instead, anywhere he went, he got chaos. Destruction, mayhem, calamity, regardless of how minor or extreme. Natural, man-made and in-between, there was no way to escape his horrendous luck. 

Such was what had him out of bed at an ungodly hour one morning, standing in nothing but fraying-at-the-edges pyjama pants and worn out boots in long need of replacing, staring in utter disdain and absolute exasperation at his hen house… that was currently being ravaged by a gigantic, rugged as heck, wolf. Flashlight pointing directly at the offending creature, which halted on the spot like a deer caught in headlights the moment the beam landed on its furry hide, unblinking eyes on Squall as he glared back his unrelenting disgust. 

Why. Just why. 

“…I use these for eggs!” he howled, agitation and exhaustion (with everything) winning over any common sense warning him to back away from the potentially dangerous beast, waving his only viable weapon of a flickering flashlight at the frozen mongrel. Who, to his complete surprise, dropped the feathery carcass like the soft exterior burned and fucking scampered away in (what he could only describe as) unbridled terror, wispy tail tucked firmly between long legs. Silence crept in around Squall, apart from the occasional chirping cricket, as he stared in the direction the wolf fled, trying to process what just happened. 

After a moment of further consideration, he shook his head roughly, forever in his way hair falling over his face as he clapped a palm to it, running it down while groaning in defeated frustration. Miles and miles of forest teeming with wildlife just as easy to catch, plus neighbouring placements just a few clicks out, and… it was still him that was ransacked. Hand lowering, noticing the flashlight beam gradually dimming, he deemed it time to call it a night. One wearily curious glance after the thieving mutt was all he spared before turning on his heel and wobbling his way back inside to the persistent light and welcoming aircon. 

He’d deal with the chickens come sunrise. 

** 

Come morning, a more reasonable morning, someone had the nerve to knock loudly on Squall’s front door. With his establishment being all ground floor, noises travelled quickly and efficiently. Thus, obnoxious banging woke him from a restless sleep despite his bedroom being in the furthest corner away from the main hall. Blissful silence occurred briefly, his pounding head welcoming the peace, before it was rudely interrupted with, yet again, more incessant knocking. It seemed his unwanted visitor wasn’t giving in. 

Groaning lowly to himself, Squall’s right arm raised and flew to cover his eyes, knowing full well if he were to open them immediately, he’d be temporarily blinded by radiant sunshine. Despite having blinds that supposedly repelled sunlight, he still woke most mornings by an impish beam to the face. One of the wonderful things about living in Winhill was the endless sunshine, but it was also one of the worst. Contemplating his next move while gingerly stretching out tender limbs, he barely refrained from growling aloud in annoyance when more knocking came. 

He was going to deck whoever it was VIP status (Laguna) or not (Seifer). 

Grudgingly, he removed his arm and squinted his eyes as they slowly peeled open, pre-emptively braced. Lightly shaking off the familiar numbness filtering in from his left leg, Squall sluggishly pushed himself up and to the edge of his bed to sit. Running a hand through his hair while the other provided a sturdy support as he leant back, he didn’t care to stifle the bothersome yawn momentarily clouding his mind. Scratching an itch to the rear of his skull, he blinked his eyes a few more times before he was ready to combat nature’s wakeup call. 

Or fates, if the knock, knock, knocking was any implication. 

“Yeah, yeah… on my way,” he mumbled to none as he forced himself up. Wavering slightly to start, he used the headboard to help stabilise his equilibrium. Taking a moment to ensure his balance was up to par, he surged on with murderous intent. Well… more like waddled on like an angry duckling – he doubted anyone would take him seriously with an unfortunate case of bedhead (fluffy, sticking up everywhere, untameable; he’d tried, trust him) and wearing only pyjama pants with a hole in the left knee. Muttering darkly to himself as he marched onward, soft carpet beneath his feet turned into solid wood, one click sounding for every two steps he took. Obviously, he’d forgotten socks in his eagerness to return to bed last night. 

Finally, he reached the front door, solid wood slash metal with a singular, one-way peephole embedded and grabbed the slick metal handle, twisted the key to unlock and all but yanked the thing open like it caused him great offence. Not the door at least, but the one standing on the opposite side had. “What’s your goddamn problem…?!” Squall fired out instantly, although some of the ferocity died down by his fourth word at seeing who was there. 

A man, possibly around his age, with hair worse than his own sticking up all over the place (platinum blond, didn’t look dyed – cute), skin pale enough to suggest he’d never seen sunlight, let alone been outside in it and the brightest blue eyes Squall had ever seen staring at him widely, looking oddly innocent despite being stuck to a grown adult… and oddly familiar. If only to add to Squall’s ludicrous attraction to the man, a rosy tint overtook definitely illegal cheekbones and the man, who’d been staring relentlessly, dropped his adorable gaze bashfully and rambled under his breath. 

Squall struggled to hear, features automatically down turning into something reminiscent of a scowl. His unfortunate visitor caught the look and perceived it to be for him, rather than Squall’s lacklustre hearing. “I—I’m sorry for the early morning call but I couldn’t wait any longer. My name’s—uh, Cloud Strife, and I, I’m your new neighbour,” he, allegedly Cloud, said, rather rapidly and in a tone that suggested questionable embarrassment and… guilt? “I happened to be passing by when I figured it—it’d be neighbourly to give you a welcoming present—” Wait, wasn’t that supposed to be the other way around? Squall was becoming more puzzled by the second, yet he continued to watch the blond ramble. “—so, I, I have something. For you. If you want them?” 

When Cloud concluded his introduction, Squall simply stared. Blinked a few times and rubbed his eyes with the palm of a hand to ensure that yes, he was awake, and yes, there was potentially the cutest blond idiot babbling on his doorstep just after sunrise. Said blond peek at him coyly through his bangs and Squall’s heart skipped a beat. 

Well, at least he knew his eyesight was still functioning well. 

“I… sure?” he replied, more of a question than a response, but it seemed to suit Cloud’s expectations perfectly. 

His neighbour hopped to attention and beckoned Squall over with enthusiastic waves of his whole arm, looking him up and down when he suddenly stopped. In an instant, Squall’s guard rose as he watched where that sky-blue gaze fell, hackles instinctively prepared. A heartbeat past and… Cloud simply shook his head and said, “Sorry, shoes—I’ll let you put on some shoes.” 

And that expelled any suspicion Squall held over that inquisitive gaze. If he hadn’t caught himself, he would’ve expressed a small smile at the blond’s antics. He blamed his messed-up sense of defence and common sense on his lack of sleep. Making to abide by Cloud’s reasonable suggestion, he slid his sockless feet into his trusty boots, left one stiffer than the right, and grabbed a jacket from the hooks by the door. Pulling on the coat to make himself at least semi-decent, he stepped outside into the already harsh warmth of the summer sun and joined Cloud’s side. Who had waited for him in the exact position he’d stopped in and not another glance was thrown downwards to Squall’s feet. 

He didn’t know whether to be impressed by someone’s apparent self-control or see if he couldn’t torment the man for looking in the first place. The sassier, snappier side of him wanted anyone that stared to suffer first-hand mortification, but somehow, Cloud slipped by and made his way to the ‘simply impressed’ side. 

Following his energetic neighbour to wherever he deemed necessary, Squall took the opportunity from lingering somewhat behind to check him out. A faded-check shirt was atop a sleeveless black tank-top, black combat pants with thick-soled biker boots, and twin (again, you guessed it) black fingerless gloves shielding strong-looking hands. Screw his hands, when they stopped by a monstrous, fucking fantastic motorcycle parked just off the driveway, Cloud’s shirt sleeves pulled up when the blond lifted something that had been secured to the rear of the bike and Squall saw jaw-dropping muscle definition on his arms alone. 

Silently, the gremlin part of his brain prayed for gale-force winds to suddenly whip up and rip the clothes from his neighbour’s body so Squall could check out the rest of him. Decisively, he ignored it. 

What was impossible to ignore was the crate Cloud was carrying, filled with… chickens? Improbable as it seemed considering the already perplexing introduction, Squall found himself feeling off-balance on how to respond or what to respond with. Why on earth was Cloud presenting hens to him? It seemed absurdly coincidental that he lost such birds the night before to the foul mutt… Stormy eyes squinted at still-radiating-innocence blue and popped his right hand on his corresponding hip. “…Do you have a dog?” 

Weirdly, Cloud fumbled with the crate at Squall’s legitimate question, the wooden box and livestock inside nearly falling directly onto booted feet. Immaculate reflexes avoided disaster, though the same couldn’t be said for the man himself. “Dog?” was Cloud’s inquiring reply as he straightened up, voice going oddly high-pitched as though he felt targeted by Squall’s suspicion… which he was, he supposed, and the given reaction wasn’t helping Cloud’s case. “No—no, I have no animals. Why?” 

He studied Cloud in brief silence, offering a meek shrug soon after, hand falling from its perch back to his side. “No reason.” And now back to the topic at hand: “Why have you brought me chickens?” And why would you think I need any, his mind finished for him. Patiently, he waited. 

Cloud toyed with his bottom lip between his teeth, eyes flicking everywhere but Squall. Almost like he struggled to think of a valid reason. Shady… In the moment of muteness, Squall’s focus shifted to the sleek machine stationed just behind them. The coat was midnight-black and shimmered in the sunlight majestically. Thicker than most two-wheelers he’d seen in his lifetime, potentially heavier from the additional compartments his keen eyesight made out, and two front wheels instead of the usual one… Simply put, it was a work of art and Squall was yet to find any piece of machinery he couldn’t wholly admire. Wonder what it’s like to ride… 

“I—I noticed you have a ranch and figured you could never have too many chickens.” If that wasn’t the lamest excuse Squall had heard in a long while… and he was friends with both Rinoa and Selphie. “So—take them?” 

Earnest blue eyes practically begged him, and the box was shoved his way suggestively, Squall’s answer was simple. He hadn’t the heart to tell the allegedly generous man ‘no’. “…Fine,” he sighed, growing instantly pensive when Cloud beamed – like he was doing the blond a favour by taking the hens. Were they infected or something? “Bring them this way,” he continued quietly, jerking his head in the direction of the main coop. Since he was already holding it, why not make use of Cloud a little longer? “I didn’t see you move in,” he commented as they began to walk, the blond keeping pace with his slightly stunted one. 

If Squall was to describe the stream of expressions that flitted over Cloud’s face in the next moment, he’d be there all day. The blond chose to settle on sheepishness with a matching smile. “It was a quick overnight thing… didn’t have much to unpack,” Cloud murmured, keeping his eyes facing forward to avoid further contact with Squall’s. 

Everything about him set off warning bells inside Squall’s mind but he couldn’t make heads or tails of what or why. Was it due to his own reclusive nature and the fact he’d evaded human interactions as much as realistically possible over the last few months, that simple conversation with new people was putting him on-guard? Too mindful over what everyone thought about him now? Shiva, he needed to get a hobby other than overthinking. Fat lot of help it was in the past. 

Thankfully, Cloud neither glanced his way to assume Squall’s souring mood was his fault or commented on the silence dragging between them as they strode on. It was only when the wooden hutch was in sight that Squall recalled last night’s problem – deceased chickens all over the place. Great, now Cloud would assume he was a disturbed maniac that feasted upon the flesh of the poor birds that had been ripped apart – 

Stopping suddenly in his tracks, Squall stared openly at the area surrounding his hen house. Cloud also paused, eyes sweeping up in an inquisitive manner, but voiced nothing. Again, he was grateful for the blond’s apparent love of silence because he wouldn’t know what to say as the entire ground was clean. No residue blood, no scattered feathers, no messy carcasses – hell, it looked like someone had swept the floor, too. Picking apart his brain for plausible solutions to the glaring problem encountered, he came up empty and his only reward was undiluted bewilderment. 

Eventually though, Cloud broke the silent treaty and asked, quite reasonably, “Is, uh, everything okay?” 

Surprisingly speechless, Squall turned his head to bring the virtuous blond into view, who was genuinely asking from misguided concern about his wellbeing. But… what could he honestly say? ‘Oh, yesterday there was numerous bodies littering the floor and now they’ve miraculously gone!’ Pfft, not likely. Flicking out his tongue to swipe along his bottom lip (noting idly how blue eyes seemed to follow the motion), he finally nodded and resolved to not telling the truth. “Phantom pains,” he said shortly, hoping the tone of voice dissuaded further questions. Luckily, Cloud complied but dropped his gaze out of apparent embarrassment again and Squall felt his chest squeeze. He hated feeling guilty. “Happens all the time, don’t worry about it.” 

Hopeful eyes raised to greet his and Squall determined that shade of blue to be illegal now. Everything about Cloud was illegal. “I—I understand,” Cloud said, nodding in sincere comprehension, hefting the crate a little higher. “Should I just set this down and free them, or…?” 

Right, the chickens. Squall nodded once. “Yeah, free roaming and all that.” 

“’N all that,” Cloud echoed with a faint smile, placing the box gently on the (clean!) floor. Nimble fingers worked over the latches holding the front plate on and a second later, three golden birds scooted out, interested in their newfound freedom and unfamiliar surroundings. He watched Cloud watch them closely, like he was wishing for the hens to accept their new home without complications. Seemingly, it was granted as all three clucked and shot off towards the coop, fluttered up the ramp and out of sight through the swinging door. He smiled, looking up at Squall from where he crouched. “They seem to like it here.” 

Squall’s brain was apparently malfunctioning and his brain-to-mouth filter broke, as the next moment after nodding in agreement to Cloud’s statement, he spewed out, “I think you would too if you wanna join me for coffee?” 

An awkward pause ensued. While Squall wished for the ground to open up and swallow him whole (like it apparently did to his poor chickens), Cloud, rightfully so, stared as him like another head just popped out of his shoulder. Dazed blue eyes blinked a few times while the blond visibly contemplated his next move, or words. He, being the gentleman he was, figured it was only fair to give Cloud a way out and opened his mouth to withdraw the offer with as much nonchalance as he could mister, but Cloud beat him to it. 

A slight raise of a shoulder and an uncertain but curious smile sketched onto his face, murmuring, “We could go to the town—I do need a guide and I’m sure there’s a café somewhere.” 

Squall paused. Cloud was not only accepting his pre-morning-coffee suggestion but was entertaining further interaction with his lunatic of a neighbour. It was impossible that he’d made a good impression so early, so the simplest deduction was Cloud being masochistic and liking the pain that came alongside social interactions with hermits like himself. Raising a hand to ruffle the hair waving in his face, he ignored the background clucks of his regular hens coming over to inspect the ground for food (since he was out and provider of said nutrients), eyed Cloud with a weariness that came naturally to him and, beyond all reason, nodded his agreement. “Alright. I’ll be ready in five.” 

Promptly, he made his way back to the front of the house. Once there, he glanced back slightly over his shoulder and queried, “My truck or your bike?” 

Cloud, who tailed him closely like a lost puppy, lit up the yard with the smirk he sent Squall. “Bike—unless you can’t handle it.” 

Squall’s eyes narrowed in playful challenge. Not that anyone outside his inner circle knew what it looked like. “Five minutes, Strife.” 

“A second past that and I’m assuming you’ve backed out—uh,” Cloud paused midway into his retaliation and Squall realised he was yet to introduce himself. With a slither of awkwardness, the blond found an interesting patch on the floor to stare at, apparently incapable of asking a simple question. 

Squall decided to put Cloud out of his misery. Almost. “Leon.” 

It was daft how adorable it was when Cloud perked up at the revelation. He nodded, quirking him a half-smile. “Leon—tick tock.” 

Squall huffed in earnest astonishment from his neighbour’s audacity (and the depth of shock he was feeling at how well they hit it off) and hobbled his way back inside at a quicker pace than his norm. Efficiency was a skill he possessed, as was haste without magic being involved. Kicking off his yard boots and shrugging off the outdoor jacket on the way to his room, he wondered on whether Cloud carried a spare helmet with him for such happenstance that strange neighbours agreed to tagging along with his wild journeys. Entering his bedroom, he yanked open the closest door and pulled out the thickest pair of jeans he owned and SeeD-issued combat boots. Nudging the door shut with a hip, he dumped them on his bed before beelining for his drawers. Retrieving underwear from the top drawer, he dug out a plain old shirt from the middle one – those were dumped on the bed too. 

Briefly, he wondered about the state of his hair but shrugged it off – it’d be underneath a helmet, who cared? Wriggling off the pyjama pants (whoops at going commando to greet his neighbour for the first time), he dressed himself while keeping a flickering gaze on the bedside clock to watch the time. Three minutes and twenty-two seconds later, he was adequately dressed and ready to go. Theoretically. For a moment, he questioned where his mind had gone and what replaced it to make him so whimsical. Uncaring in the end, he shrugged off such thoughts at hearing the starting rumble of the alluring thing awaiting him (the bike was pretty neat too). 

Finally, Squall moseyed on to the front door again, picking up his trusty leather jacket along the way. Too often he’d been teased (or ridiculed) about the fur adorning the lining, but fuck those guys, he liked being warm, thank you very much. Pulling said jacket on as he exited his condo, grabbing keys, wallet and his cell phone along the way, bitter warmth greeted him already but he paid it no heed at the sight he was blessed with – Cloud straddling the beast, a pair of goggles sitting atop of blond spikes, arms crossed and peering at him with… clear admiration and perhaps a hint of amusement. 

Locking the front door with a snort, Squall then pointed the sharp enough key (to get his point across) at the blond, and said, “Not one word about the jacket, Strife.” A raised brow was his response. His own eyes narrowed. “I mean it.” 

Cloud raised his hands in a show of mock surrender and then lowered the goggles to shield his eyes. “No words said.” 

Squall nodded in approval while making his way over, studying the sleek machine. Obviously, his choice seat was behind Cloud, although it seemed it would be a tight fit for two grown adults. So what. Steeling his determination, he gritted his teeth and, after bracing himself on Cloud’s shoulder, swung his right leg over the bike to attain his seat. Unfortunately, it applied unnecessary pressure to his bad leg and a bolt of pain lanced through him. He went rigid and a concerned look shot over the shoulder he just leaned on. 

“I’m fine,” Squall growled out, a low warning poorly concealed within the words. Giving himself a minute to settle and for his head to stop pounding, he breathed in and out steadily, and then sighed. Only when he impulsively ran a hand through his own hair did he realise something critical: “Where’s your helmet?” 

A gleam came into blue eyes and Squall felt slight trepidation in his choice. “No helmet. Hold on tight.” 

The engine roared to life as Cloud twisted his right hand and Squall instinctively grabbed onto what was closest: Cloud’s jacket – procured from where, Squall didn’t know, but could certainly appreciate. Not a second later, they were tearing up Squall’s driveway, dust clouds and debris kicking up behind them as wheels scrambled for purchase. Before long rubber kissed tarmac and Cloud released the clutch, twisted the throttle, leaned forward and really started to move. The bike shot off like a rocket and Squall could only hold on for dear life, vice-grip on Cloud’s sides being switch for the more secure looping around his waist, face buried into the back of Cloud’s jacket, heart racing as fast as the vehicle he’d willingly jumped on, idly wondering if he’d make it out alive. 

Exhilarating was too tame a word to use in description for the feel of wind whipping his hair about. The sheer amount of fresh air hitting his throat when finally releasing the breath he’d been holding nearly made him choke (and he lived in the mountains already). Eyes watering immediately when he attempted to open them to view the rapidly passing countryside, he chose to keep them jammed shut, listening to the roar of the engine whenever Cloud accelerated and the pounding of his own heart that felt was about to leap out of his chest. 

Now to say Squall had lived a lively, fast-paced life so far would be a gross understatement, but there was something so utterly terrifying, yet breathlessly freeing, about riding so recklessly with a gorgeous stranger he’d just met. 

Liberating. 

[zoawrites]

Prompt: a concert. They can meet there, have already planned to go together, by a twist of fate end up there, anything! Lol but at least part of it has to take place at a music concert of any genre

Sorry it took me a little while to get this done! Loved the prompt and I had a lot of fun with it! Thank you! 

Story below the cut! (Rated T)

Also, here’s the AO3 link  

Enjoy!

Zoa ❤️

A Wrong Turn to the Right Place

Ben knew he shouldn’t have listened to the damn GPS. ‘Take a right’, it said. ‘Destination will be on your left’, it insisted.

Wrong.

And that was how Ben landed right in the middle of a fucking rock concert instead of at an isolated cabin in the woods where he could find some peace and quiet to finish his manuscript. Was it rock? There was a stage and guitars and a mosh pit so he assumed it was rock. Then again there was a guy with a banjo and another dude with a cello and the two singers had a country twang so probably not rock.

Was it Indie music? Were they hippies?

Ben didn’t know and didn’t care. He just needed to find someone who had a map of the area so he could find his cabin and get out of this loud, body-filled mess of a field. There was a fleet of food trucks lined up along the edge of the crowd, buzzing with customers.

Surely someone had a map. Ben approached the nearest truck and jumped ahead of the line, getting booed and jeered in the process but he ignored the voices. He wasn’t trying to buy anything.  

“Excuse me!” Ben had to shout to be heard over the music and the people. The man at the window glared at him.

“What’re you doing, man? Back of the line!”

Ben was not dissuaded. “I don't want to buy anything. Do you have a map?”

“If you’re not buying, fuck off! I got real customers!”

“Seriously?” Ben scoffed.

“Get the fuck out!”

Ben flipped him off as he backed away. “Asshole.”

He tried every other truck and a few people in line but no one could - or would - help him. After his final attempt, he stood and scowled at the ongoing concert, hands on his hips. How did he end up here? Fucking GPS… fucking food trucks… fucking loud music… can’t hear a damn thing…  

A tap on his shoulder pulled Ben from his angry contemplations and he turned to tell off the concert-goer with all the pent up rage he was currently nursing only for it to disappear in a puff of smoke.

She was in her early twenties, above average height, chestnut hair cut short so that it framed her face. Which was lovely and covered in adorable freckles to which he could devote a whole chapter of his book. Ben stole a moment to gather his thoughts as he took in her Daisy Duke shorts and black, long-sleeved crop-top that had the word ‘nobody’ emblazoned across the chest in white block letters.

“Excuse me, are you in line?”

“What?” Why was it so fucking loud? They weren’t even that close to the stage. “I can’t hear you!” He pointed at his ears and shook his head helplessly.

The girl - young woman - wrinkled her pert nose but then pointed to the food truck. “Are. You. In. Line?”

“Oh, no…” Ben shook his head. “I need a… help.”

“‘A help’?” She laughed and Ben more than ever wished the music wasn’t so loud so he could hear what he was sure was the clearest, loveliest laugh. Her eyes - green with a touch of gold, like the stalks of tall summer grass waving in the distance - looked him up and down, observing his dark blue henley and light jacket, probably realizing he wasn’t there for the concert.

“I’m lost!” He yelled forlornly. Well, as forlornly as a shout could sound. But she seemed to get the picture. His new friend took pity on him and grabbed his hand, guiding him toward the collection of Port-a-Potties lined up at the edge of the field. There were still plenty of people about, so they weren’t completely alone but the noise pollution was much improved. Although he could have done without the smell.

“You’re lost?” She asked and he heard her accent for the first time. British, soft, warm, like sunlight on a spring day. Ben blinked at her for a second before he nodded.

“Yeah. Lost. My, uh, my GPS told me to come here.”

“Where were you trying to go?”

“A cabin. I rented it. I thought I had the right address,” Ben sent a hand through his hair, ruffling it in exasperation. She seemed to watch the movement with interest. “I wanted…” he looked around and sighed, “I wanted a quiet place to write.”

His companion laughed again and yes, it was definitely as Ben imagined it. Better, in fact. “You’ve definitely come to the wrong place for that!”

“I know,” he managed a crooked smile and she pressed her lips into a tight line, as if repressing one of her own. “I don’t suppose you have a map of the area?”

“I don’t. Don’t you have a mobile? A cell phone you can use?”

“No. I don’t like them.”

“Oh, wow,” she grinned. “I didn’t think any of you actually existed.”

“Any of who?”

“Sasquatch.”

“Ha ha,” Ben rolled his eyes but wasn’t offended, not when her eyes were wrinkled and bright at her own joke. “Very funny.”

“I thought so. Here,” she reached into her shorts’ back pocket and drew out her own phone, “let’s see how far astray you’ve come.”

Turned out, he’d strayed quite a ways off his path. An entire state, in fact. The town his cabin was located at and the one he was currently in shared the same name and, unfortunately, Ben hadn’t double checked when he’d plugged in the address. Just selected the automatic suggestion that popped up on the screen like the idiot he was.

“Well, fuck.”

“I’m sorry.” The girl’s expression was honestly sympathetic.

The crowd behind them cheered as a new song began and Ben glanced mournfully over his shoulder. “Look, I don’t want to keep you. I appreciate your help, but I can manage from here. Go have fun.”

“I can still hear the music. I’m Rey, by the way,” she stuck out her hand and Ben stared at it for a second longer than necessary before he engulfed it with his own giant paw.

“Ben. Ben Solo.”

“Ben.” She said his name slowly, as if savoring how it rolled off her tongue. There was even a minuscule lift to the corner of her mouth, which Ben tried very hard not to stare at. “Solo… You’re a writer? Have I heard of you?”

“No,” he shook his head. When she tilted her head quizzically, he cleared his throat and elucidated. “I’m not published yet. This trip was supposed to be my attempt to finish my manuscript…”

“Not getting to a great start, are you.”

He laughed bitterly. “No, guess not.” Then he heaved a very heavy sigh. “I should get going. I have a long drive ahead of me, apparently.”  

“Why don’t you stay?”

The question came as a surprise and this time he allowed himself to stare at her. “What?”

A charming pink hue lit Rey's cheeks. “The sun’s going down, you see. Probably not a good idea to drive in the dark when you don’t have a map.”

“It wasn’t a good idea in daylight, either,” Ben said wryly and Rey laughed again. “But you’re right,” he added, unable to tear his gaze from her bright eyes. “Probably a good idea to stay. I can find a hotel…”

“You can hang out with my friends and I…”

They spoke at the same time. Her eyes darted away in obvious embarrassment but then peered at him from under lightly-mascaraed lashes. Ben swallowed.

“Really? You don’t even know me.���

Rey tilted her head and gave him a shy smile. “You seem fairly harmless to me. Although, you’re a bit short with food truckers, I’ll admit.”

So she’d seen that. Could his face get any hotter?

“Not my finest hour,” Ben admitted, running a hand through his hair again. Her offer was tempting, and the music wasn’t bad… in fact, Ben could see himself tapping a toe to it. “I won’t be intruding?”

“Of course not!”

Then she suddenly grabbed his hand and hauled him off toward the stage. Rey somehow managed to find all the gaps and passages through the dense collection of people, although, with Ben in tow she didn’t really need to because those passages were being bulldozed anyway. Unfazed by the scowls and middle-fingers flipped at them, Rey tugged him to a spot deep in the crowd where four others were bouncing around to the beat.

A short, dark-haired girl with round cheeks and a contagious smile caught sight of Rey, took one long - very long - look at Ben and smirked.

“That’s not what I meant when I said bring back a snack!” She yelled with a wink, earning an aghast and open-mouthed expression of shock from Rey.

That was Rose Tico’s charming self-introduction. Rey’s other friends, Finn, Jannah, and Kaydel were less free with their thoughts, albeit just as curious. They welcomed him warmly enough. While Ben felt out of place - and knew he was - he couldn’t find it in himself to part from the girl who’d rescued him. So he stood and bobbed his head to the music, enjoying watching the others’ antics and enthusiastic singing along.

Still, it wasn’t exactly his favorite activity, and somehow Rey must have sensed that because sometime later - as the horizon was lit by the pink and purple light of the setting sun - she tugged him back through the crowd and toward grassier areas where there were scattered groups sitting on blankets and lawn chairs.

They sat together in a soft patch of grass and Ben sighed, not trying to hide his relief. “Thanks.”

“I did have an ulterior motive,” she admitted, stretching her toned legs out and crossing them at the ankles.

Ben nodded in encouragement, pretty sure if she wanted to take over the world he’d help her. “What’s that?”

“I want you to tell me about your book.”

“My book?” His brows lifted straight up. “You really want to hear about it?”

She nodded and Ben, right in assuming he had little ability to resist any request she made, launched into a summary of his story: a hard-boiled detective investigating the deep, dirty secrets of a city’s nefarious mobster.

“Is there a love story?”

“There’s a woman,” Ben admitted. “I haven’t decided if he should fall in love with her.”

“I think he should.”

“Thing is, I’m not sure how to write her.”

“Maybe you need a muse.”

Ben lifted his gaze from the grass to focus on her face, on all the little freckles dotting her nose, the strange way the fading light of the sun seemed to worship her cheeks. She was beautiful here and now but he wanted to know how many other ways she was beautiful. How she ate toast in the morning. What her favorite movie was. If she squealed when she saw a bee. Everything. He wanted to know everything about her and write it all down.

“Maybe I already have.”

[probably-writing-x]

Admittance.

Guzmán x Reader

Set after the end of Season 3 (assuming Nadia and Guzmán were never a thing)

Request from anon: The reader is Andér’s sister and she found out she is pregnant with guzmán, but they are like not a couple.

My requests are always open❤️

- - - - - -

“Come on, school can hardly get any worse now!” Ander laughs as the two of you walk towards school.

“I wouldn’t speak too soon,” You roll your eyes, smiling as you see Omar walking toward the two of you.

He looked so oddly fitted to the new uniform as he hurries down towards you. He’d had to come in early today to get himself sorted for the introduction into the school. And it lit up your heart when you saw how excited Ander was to see him.

“I’ll meet you inside, okay?” You mention to your brother, walking off ahead as Omar comes running down toward his boyfriend.

It was a completely relief to see them back together now, so comfortable and relaxed back into what was meant to be all along. You couldn’t be as excited to be back as those two were. There were a thousand questions of your future running through your head and you were sure you’d pass out if you kept them to yourself for any longer.

When you get through into the school, you instantly focus on Guzmán only a few metres away. He’s the only person you could focus on at the minute. He’s stood laughing with Samuel about something or other as he clasps him on the shoulder and pulls him in like they’re brothers. It was good for them to have someone like that - both hardly having the best luck with siblings over the past year.

You hurry down the corridor towards him and bypass anyone who didn’t hold that exterior that he did.

“Guzmán,” You say, grabbing his arm to turn his attention toward you.

“Hey (Y/n),” He smiles, “Ready for school?”

“Guzmán I need to talk to you,” You persist, glancing over your shoulder as people begin flurrying in past you.

He must see the concern that the words inject onto your face as he holds your arm to pull you away from the crowds of people.

“You okay, (Y/n)?” It’s Rebeca that joins you and the boys, smiling to Samuel as she does.

Before you can say anything more, Ander and Omar are making their way towards you too, joining the group in a situation you should feel completely comfortable in.

“Nobody gonna tell me how hot I look?” Omar gasps, spinning round proudly in his uniform.

Everyone else laughs but you and Guzmán are evidently uncertain. He didn’t know what you were waiting to tell him. But one thing was for certain - given what happened over summer, he didn’t expect anything good to come from whatever conversation would be had.

- - - - - -

You’d been in first period for approximately twenty minutes before you started to feel it. It was that feeling you’d been suppressing as much as possible all morning but was impossible to avoid now.

Instantly, you find yourself hurrying out of class and straight down to the closest toilets. Hunching over the toilet bowl and trying your best to hold your hair back too.

You slump back against the wall of the toilet stall and sigh, resting your head back as one hand finds its way onto your stomach.

Shit.

When you collect yourself together and come out of the bathrooms, Ander is stood waiting for you on the opposite side.

“What happened?” He frowns, “Are you okay?”

His voice is panicked as he scans you fearfully.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. I must’ve just eaten something bad, maybe at dinner last night.”

Your brother’s frown doesn’t release, “I can take you home if you want to.”

“No, don’t be silly,” You shake your head, “It’s probably out of my system by now anyway but I might head home early.”

“Okay, just let me know.”

It kills you to lie to him. The two of you had gone through a lot together. But this summer had been a strange one for both of you. Whilst he was missing Omar and going through the last stages of his treatment, you’d not been as honest with him as you should’ve been.

- - - - - -

“(Y/n)!” Guzmán calls as he strides down the hallway toward you, “What’s going on? What did you need to talk to me about?”

You glance over your shoulder and already spot Samu and Rebe, followed by your Mum not far behind, “Not here,” You shake your head.

“Yeah, okay,” Guzmán nods, “My house is free, we can go to mine.”

He settles a large hand on your back and leads you through the school until the two of you start a silent walk back to his house. You weren’t about to confess this to him on a random sidewalk. In fact, you weren’t sure if there was any way you could confess this to him.

- - - - - -

“Can I get you a drink?” He asks calmly, opening the fridge, “I mean we don’t have much in...”

“I’m fine, honestly,” You encourage, “Thank you.”

“So, what did you need to tell me?” He turns around and leans back against the kitchen counter across from where you sat at one of the stools by the island.

“Okay, I don’t know how to tell you this and I’m sorry for not telling you sooner...” You can feel yourself starting to ramble so quickly hold it back to stop yourself, “But I’m pregnant, Guzmán.”

His face falls instantly, his folded arms slacking slightly, “You’re- you ar- you... pregnant?”

You don’t say anything, that already felt like it had drained you of all energy anyway.

“I- Is it mine?”

“I didn’t really spend my summer fucking multiple people Guzmán,” You snap, “Of course it’s yours.”

“But we... we were careful!” He points out, “The majority of the time.”

“Yeah, I guess that two, or three, times weren’t so lucky,” You sigh, “Look, I’m not expecting anything from you b-“

“Who else knows?”

You take a deep breath, “Me, and you. And the twelve tests I took to make sure.”

He can’t help but half laugh at that, “Have you been to the hospital? Told your Mum? Ander?”

“No, Guzmán,” you sigh, “I’ve spent the past two weeks trying to process it myself, and I didn’t want to do anything until I told you. So, no.”

He inhales deeply and runs a hand over his growing hair, “Shit.”

You fiddle with your hands in your lap and keep your eyes away from him, practically ashamed at your own admittance.

That’s how the two of you stay for a while. Both of you in silence, trying to process what this meant for practically everything in your lives. This summer had been an interesting one. It had started by you spending time with Guzmán whenever he was at the hospital for Ander, and then he’d walk you home when Ander had to stay at the hospital with you. Then it turned to him offering for you to stay at his when both of you would be home alone. Then a late night kiss that turned into more very quickly. And suddenly? The two of you were hooked on each other like you wondered how you ever went without. You both craved each other. It was only towards the end of summer that you both called things off completely - admitting that neither of you wanted things to go any further. Now? Any further had developed a completely different meaning.

“Shit,” You mutter to yourself as that growingly familiar feeling starts to flood your veins once again.

You find yourself hurrying to the nearest toilet instantly and repeat the events of earlier that morning. Only this time, you’re not alone in the school bathroom stalls. In moments, Guzmán is with you. His hand moves up to bunch your hair together behind your head, whilst the other rubs circles onto your back soothingly.

“You’re okay, you’re fine,” He repeats, though you’re not sure if he’s speaking more to you or to himself, “You good?”

You groan and sit back away from the bowl, flushing it away like it would get rid of any of the fear and terror that this whole process was causing for you.

You slumped back against the cupboard behind you and he sat opposite, drawing his knees close to his chest.

“I’m sorry to spring this on you,” You say quietly, “I know it’s probably not the kind of news that anybody wants to hear.”

“(Y/n), don’t say it like you should be feeling sorry for me,” He shakes his head, “You’re the one really going through it.”

You give him a sympathetic look to match, “I don’t think this is easy for either of us.”

The silence falls again and you fear that things will never be the same in your life, in that exact moment it all seems to hit you. You’d told Guzmán, Ander could easily freak out and hate you for getting with Guzmán in the first place, your Mum could hate how you’ve jeopardised your future, you-

“You know you won’t be alone, right?” Guzmán cuts through like a knife into your overpowering thoughts, “Whatever decision you make, whatever path you think is best for you, I’ll be there every step of the way. I know this isn’t what either of us expected but that doesn’t mean I’m going to ever let you go through it alone, I promise.”

It might be the overwhelming hormones but you find yourself bubbling with tears at those words, spilling before you have a chance to stop them.

“Oh god I didn’t want to make you cry!” He chuckles, shifting around to sit beside you.

Guzmán wraps an arm over your shoulder and pulls you close to him. And the two of you stay like that for as long as you need.

- - - - - -

It’s a few days later when you’ve finally booked to get a doctors appointment. And, just as he’d said, Guzmán is right by your side. He meets you at your house in the car, offers you a smile and had even brought a drink and snacks with him in case you felt like you needed it. He also managed to reel off what the entire process of this appointment would entail - having done his extensive research last night.

“Miss (Y/l/n)?” The nurse calls with an all too bright smile on her face and an unsettling welcome brightness in her eyes.

You take in a shaky breath and glance down at your stomach like you were trying to change the results of whatever they’d tell you.

“Hey, I told you, I’m right here,” Guzman’s hand locks with yours and he squeezes tightly, “Both of us together, okay?”

The two of you had never been more than that summer fling, you’d never even thought of him that way until the summer came, but he was showing himself in a different light now. And it settled you instantly.

The doctor is nice enough and goes through the procedures to tell you exactly what you’d expected. You were currently five weeks pregnant.

“Now, there are certain different options available to you (Y/n) and I encourage you to look into what works best for you,” The doctor explains as you lay atop the risen reclining chair with Guzmán seated beside you, “There are some leaflets I can provide you with, and I am more than happy to answer any questions that you have.”

You nod like you’re taking in all of the information he is saying, when you’re really hoping that Guzmán is instead. All of this felt too overwhelming to absorb.

“I encourage you to remember that this is your choice. You shouldn’t feel pressured into this decision and you should not base it on any other moral compass than your own,” He looks between the pair of you, “Your choice, completely.”

“If we chose to... when would we have a scan?” You ask cautiously, glancing down at your unmoving stomach.

The doctor smiles gently, “It would be scheduled for a few weeks time, that would be when the foetus would likely be visible and we could get a clearer understanding of what’s going on in there.”

Guzmán nods along and it looks as though he’s digesting it all. When you see him sat beside you, it’s like he has an odd maturity that you’ve never seen before. His shoulders carry him like he’s confident and collected, and he’s asked all of the right questions this whole time. What surprised you most was that his hand still hadn’t left yours.

“I’ll just leave you two for a moment,” The doctor states before exiting the room and closing the door behind.

Guzmán turns to you and furrows his brows just a little, “What’s going on inside that head of yours?”

You let out a shaky breath, “This is a lot Guzmán, and I don’t want to be making any decisions that you aren’t comfortable with or you don’t feel are right. This baby would be mine as much as it would be yours.”

“(Y/n),” Guzmán stops you, shifting closer in the chair than he had been before, “I know. And if you choose to have that baby, I’ll do my half. I’ll do it all, I’ll make it work, and I’ll be there every step of the way through the pregnancy and for every day after that. But I need you to remember that it’s your body, and you know how you feel.”

“You really think we could do it?” You let out a little laugh, “All from a summer fling?”

He chuckles gently but it curls his lips into the most delicate of smiles, “I think any man would be lucky to bring a baby into the world with you, (Y/n). And this might not have been the way you expected things to happen, or who you expected them to happen with - but I’ll be that man if you want me to be.”

With that, he presses a soft, gentle kiss to your hand that was intertwined with his. And some of that fear just about manages to dissipate. You feel like you’re finally letting that weight settle into his shoulders too and it’s not as scary as you’d imagined it to be. Sure, there was still a LOT more to come after this. You were yet to tell anybody else beyond this boy next to you. You’d have to go through the fearful process of pregnancy and child birth before you even managed to bring this child into the world. But somehow it seemed just a fraction more manageable as Guzmán was a man of his word. And the way his eyes smiled when the doctor confirmed your expectations had already told you enough. He would be that man. You didn’t have to be married, engaged, or a couple at all. You just had to have trust, trust that you’d both be there. And as he kisses your hand again, you become even more certain that he is.

[nuggets-and-french-fries]

Taking Chances: Chapter Five.

“So you think it’s ok to tell one parent that this happened and not the other one?” Nicola asked Jasmine’s teacher firmly.

“I thought Jasmine would have told you.” The teacher tried to argue.

Nicola tried to keep her cool but with the teacher’s brainlessness, it was becoming increasingly difficult.

“That is not the point here. The point is that if something like this happens, both parties' parents must be informed and I was not.” Nicola said.

“It was dealt with. It shouldn’t matter anymore.” The other woman spoke.

“Look lady. I have been dealing with people like you my whole life and frankly, I’m sick of it. Yes, it shouldn’t have happened but the way you dealt with it was wrong. That little boy shouldn’t have had to stand up for my sister because some brat thought that it was ok to pick on her. From the moment that it happened, you should have called me and Mikey’s father. Your actions are inexcusable and disgusting.” Nicola went off.

Mrs. Graves looked at the younger woman with shock and slight disgust.

“If ever hear that this has happened again and you’ve failed to inform both Mikey’s father and myself immediately, I’ll have you fucking fired.” Nicola warned darkly before standing abruptly and leaving.

“Hi.” Mikey and Jasmine said as Nicola walked up to them.

“Hello you two.” Nicola replied, painting a smile on her face.

“Can Mikey come over tomorrow?” Jasmine asked, sounding hopeful. Both kids gave Nicola their best puppy faces.

“I’m sorry Jazzy but no. I don’t know Mikey’s father just yet and he doesn’t know us. Maybe one day but not now.” Nicola replied, feeling bad for turning them down.

“My daddy is nice.” Mikey tried.

Nicola chuckled.

“I don’t doubt that Mikey but not now ok.” Nicola repeated kindly.

Mikey nodded and gave up.

“I’ll pick you up after school. I love you Jasmine.” The woman said.

“I love you too.” Jasmine replied.

“Listen, if anything happens today and someone is mean to either of you, I want you to tell the teacher to call me and Mikey, tell her to call your father. We will make sure that it gets sorted, ok?” Nicola asked.

“Ok Lina, we promise.” Jasmine answered for both her and Mikey.

“Good. I’ll see you after school.” The woman said one last time before leaving the school yard.

=

“Mum, I need you to pick Mikey up from school and Take him for a few days. I have to run up to London.” Taron explained.

“Taron, I’m sorry I can’t take him. Both girls got sick over night and I don’t want Mikey getting the vomiting bug or whatever they have. I can get Guy to pick him up though and drop him off with someone.” Tina replied, making her son groan.

“Mum please. I have no one else that can take him and you are the only one that I trust with Mikey.” Taron said.

“What about your aunt?” Tina asked.

“I guess I could ask her but I don’t know how Mikey will do staying with her. I just know that if Mikey needs anything or gets scared during the night, you have things of mine that you can give him.” Taron answered, starting to feel really defeated.

Tina felt bad that she couldn’t help out other than picking up her grandson from nursery school.

“It’s times like this I really need Kate.” Taron said as he tried not to cry from frustration.

“I know son. We all miss her and I really wish I could help out more.” Tina responded softly.

“I’ll talk to aunt Eve and hopefully she can help because if not, I’ll have to take him with me and I really don’t want to uproot him for the next few days.” Taron said.

Tina nodded.

“That sounds good.” Tina replied. “Taron?” She asked tenderly.

Taron sniffled a little bit and cleared his throat.

“Yeah mam.” He answered.

“I love you so much sweetheart.” She spoke.

“I love you too. Tell the girls that I hope they get better soon and tell Guy I said thank you for doing this for me.” The man responded.

The mother and son hung up not long after and Taron went on to call his aunt to ask if Mikey could stay with her. Fortunately for him, his aunt agreed to stay with the little boy at their house for as long as Taron needed and at that, Taron honestly could have cried. He never considered the fact that Mikey could have stayed at the house with someone else watching him.

Plus too, he now had the assurance that Pickles would be fully cared for as well.

He also had to make sure to call the school and let them know that Mikey would be picked up by someone else.

Once everything was sorted, Taron got everything he needed and hurried to his aunt’s cafe to drop off the house key so that she could get into the house later that day before going to the train station.

=

At the end of the day, Guy waited to collect his grandson like planned.

“Papa!” Mikey cheered when his eyes landed on Guy.

“Hello champ. Did you have a good day?” He asked the small boy as he picked him up and held him close.

“Uh ha. I ate all my lunch too.” Mikey replied happily.

“Good boy. I’m so proud of you.” Guy replied truthfully.

“I missed you.” Mikey said as he cuddled into the older man.

“Excuse me? Are you Mikey’s grandpa?” Jasmine asked cutely.

Guy looked down and smiled at the other child.

“I sure am little lady. You must be Jasmine, am I right?” Guy questioned kindly, putting Mikey down.

“That’s me.” The girl replied with a bright smile.

“It’s nice to finally meet you. Mikey has told us all about you.” Guy admitted.

Mikey’s cheeks went red with embarrassment.

“Jasmine, stop running off.” Nicola reprimanded as she caught up with her sister.

“I’m so sorry for her. She likes meeting new people.” The woman explained with exasperation. 

“No harm done. Your daughter is a sweet one, I can see why Mikey likes her so much.” Guy said.

She’s my sister but thank you for the compliment. It makes me happy that my efforts are paying off.” Nicola answered.

“I’m Nicola. It’s nice to meet you.” She introduced.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Mikey’s grandpa, Guy.” Guy said as he shook Nicola’s hand.

“Where’s my daddy?” Mikey asked, breaking the introductions.

“He had to go to London for work. Your aunt Eve is going to stay with you and Pickles.” Guy replied.

“See you on Monday Mikey.” Jasmine called as she and Nicola walked off, leaving the two men alone to talk.

Mikey ran toward the girl and threw his arms around her waist in a sweet hug.

Jasmine giggled and hugged her friend back.

“Thanks for my egg.” The little boy mumbled.

Mikey broke the hug and ran back to his grandfather, taking his hand and walking to where Guy had parked the car.

===

Tag List: @sarahegerton96 @softeggsy @dogmom2014 @aberystwythboy @fuseburner @cilldaracailin @hauntedflamingo @rocknrollmadden @superthiccthighssavelives @hitmeonmytspot @holdmeclosertinytaron @stronglyobsessed @jobanan23

[angrylizardjacket]

sabotage {Machine Gun Kelly}

Summary: MGK has a Lot of tattoos, and Tommy Lee does not, at least not for most of when The Dirt is set. It’s no small task covering them all, but being assistant to the man who does cover them means you’re spending a good deal of time with the actor himself, and he’s not what you’re expecting... that is, if you actually knew what to expect.

A/N: 6477 words. alright so i went to im-fucking-db for Accuracy; shout out to: Christine Wada (costume designer), Corey Castellano (makeup department head), and Jorie Malan (key makeup artist). i reference these people in the fic, and i’ll be sure to explain who they are in the fic, but just in case you need a reminder, they’re also here. requested by my dear @luciana-galvez. under a read more because it’s a Monster of a fic. Please give me feedback, and also let me know if you want a part 2??

“You want me to order how much foundation?” It’s nine in the morning and you’ve barely stepped foot into the production meeting when Corey, the head of the makeup department, is tasking you with buying far more foundation than any one production should reasonably need. There’s overestimating and then there’s... this. “What shade?” It’s with an air of defeat that you accept the company credit card and open your laptop.

“Not now; the cast have a fitting at midday, we’ll get shade match them then.” Corey assures, but you keep your laptop open anyways to make notes during the meeting. It passes by fairly uneventfully, at least for you, and by the time you break, it’s already eleven and you’re starving. The corner store a few blocks away serves as a good a place to get lunch as any, and when you turn up to the fitting, half an hour early, you sit yourself in a corner to wait, and start on your sandwich of questionable quality.

You’re pricing bulk order foundation on your phone, still marvelling at the estimate you’d been given for how much you’d need, when the cast starts to filter in, well, the leads. Aside from being one of the makeup artists, you were also Corey’s assistant, which essentially just made you a glorified errand girl for the rest of the makeup team.

Half the costume department was already here, buzzing and agitated like wasps whose nest had been disturbed, and you’re careful to stay out of their way lest you get stung, or smacked for touching the wrong thing. So you’re grateful when the key makeup artist, Jorie, bursts in with ten minutes to spare, and gives a sigh of relief when she sees you. She’s holding a makeup kit in her hands, and when she begins to set up by a mirror out of the way of the costume department, you can see it’s mostly different shades of foundation, a few tubes of lipstick, more smokey eyeshadow-quad pallets than you can shake a stick at, some eyeliner, and a few face paint sticks.

She’s sticking photos to the mirror of the original band in full makeup, and that’s when you start to accept the fact that it’s going to be a very long day.

“You’re late.” The costume department is not about to fuck around, and despite the fact that there’s still five minutes to midday, the costume designer is already reprimanding the newcomer. “And you can’t smoke in here.”

“It’s not midday-” whoever’s walked in is already arguing back, though as you look up, you see him - god he’s so tall, all limbs - backtracking to stub his cigarette out on the screen door frame outside, you think you recognise him. Well, recognise him beyond the fact that you know he’s playing Tommy; you’d seen his bleach blonde head shot with the drummer’s name beneath it on the document Corey had sent out a few months ago, not that you’d given it a detailed look over. You just did what you were told, you could get to know the actors in the process. But as you’re looking at him, something about him does seem... familiar.

“On time is late; five minutes early is cutting it too close,” Christine, the costume designer was fierce, fiercer than any of the actors had expected, though the rest were already trying to hold back their snickers as he got reprimanded before they’d even started, “ten minutes early is on time; gives us all time to get ready.” She finishes, and disappears into another room to start collecting costumes. 

“Fucking hell,” he breathes, rolling his eyes and running a hand through his hair, as the tension dropped the moment she had left. The others were grinning, poking fun at him for getting in trouble before they’d even gotten on set.

“’Stina,” Jorie shouts to the costume designer, “who can we start with?” There’s a long pause, and much shuffling and clicking of coat hangers from the costume department.

“The tall one,” Christine shouts back, and reemerges with an arm full of outfits, “Mister Booth, you first.” And the guy playing Nikki Sixx is lead to a dressing room. After a moment, an assistant carrying another set of outfits makes her way towards you and Jorie, but stops short, gesturing for the guy who had just been getting yelled at to step towards you.

“She meant you, Mister - uh, Kelly?” The nervous assistant doesn’t stay long, and scurries off to collect the two remaining actors, leading them through to the costume room as ‘the tall one’ gives a thin smile as he makes his way towards you.

“Not a fan of being called Mister Kelly?” Jorie asks with a knowing smile, and the tension breaks as he sits in the chair in front of the mirror, half smiling, “what about the tall one?” And he actually laughs at that.

“Fuck no, just Colson’s fine,” he relaxes into the chair, gaze meeting yours where you’re scrutinising him in the mirror, partially because, damn, he really is familiar and you can’t put your finger on why, and partially because you’re trying to figure out what foundation he’d use. 

“Where do I know you from?”

“Y/N tell me you’re kidding,” Jorie mutters to you, looking up from where she’s leafing through a stack of photos of Tommy, “did you not read the brief-”

“Dude,” you hissed at her, ducking your head and bobbing down to rifle through the makeup box, “I read it months ago, sorry I don’t remember every actor whose name and headshot I see once.” 

“You’re so clueless sometimes; you’re meant to be the young one. Hip to the jive, etcetera?” Jorie’s laughing at her own phrasing, not that you can blame her. When you resurface, holding a makeup sponge and five little bottles of foundation all roughly the same shade with slight variations, she’s looking expectantly at you, one eyebrow raised, hand out and gesturing to the blonde in the makeup chair. “It’s- what is it? - Machine Gun Kelly?” She says it like it’s meant to mean something.

“Gesundheit.”

“It’s his name,” she sighed deeply, pulling out a black stick of facepaint.

“Oh. Your parents hippies?” You ask, kneeling beside his chair and gently taking his arm so you could begin swatching the foundations on the back of his hand. After a beat you reconsider before he can get a word in edgewise, “I guess not if machine gun is in there.” 

“Stage name,” he explains, but there’s a smile you can hear in his words, amused, and it doesn’t leave his face as he watches you work in the mirror as Jorie is applying the face paint in two stripes on both his cheeks. 

“Hence, Colson?” You ask, not looking up, feeling a little foolish, though the stage name is starting to sound familiar to you.

“Yeah, hence, Colson.”

“Stage name for what?” You ask, but the thought is quickly taken over by the next and words spill from you before he can response, “were you all over Twitter a few months ago? I know I know you from somewhere.” 

He’s quick to clarify; he’s a rapper, sort of an actor, yes he was ‘all over twitter’ a few months ago because of a ‘thing with Eminem’, his words not yours.

“So you’re kind of famous, huh,” you muse, which makes him chuckle, “well sorry for my terrible introduction; I’m Y/N, by the way.” And you hold out your hand to shake his free one.

“Flirt on your own time, Y/N, did you get a colour match?” Jorie snaps, advancing on him with an eyeshadow brush held threateningly before her. He closes his eyes, but not before seeing you fluster at the accusation. “You’re the one with all the tattoos, aren’t you?” Jorie’s voice is quieter as she focuses on her work, and Colson tells her he is. The makeup artist steps back for a moment, her gaze appraising as she looks him over. “Could we get you to take your shirt off so Y/N can make sure she’s got the right colour foundation for your chest?” 

“I wasn’t flirting, I was shaking his damn hand, this isn’t the forties.” You fire back playfully, sitting back on your heels as Colson pulls off his sweater.

“The forties? How old do you think I am?” Jorie squawks, raising her eyebrows at you.

“For your sake, I’m not going to answer,” you say sweetly, accepting it as the makeup artist cuffs you gently on the back of the head, though both she and Colson are laughing at the exchange. 

As you look to him, it all starts to finally make sense, recognition dawning on your face as you take in the tattoos painting their way across his skin. All of it would need to be covered for certain scenes in the movie, which would require a lot of foundation. 

“You mind if I-” you awkwardly gesture to his chest with the sponge in your hand, and he sits back in the chair.

“Go for it,” and he closes his eyes again as Jorie comes in with the eyeshadow once more. As you apply the foundation near his collar, where there was a patch of uninked skin large enough to get a good comparison from, from the corner of your eye you see his lips twitch into a grimace for the barest moment.

“Sorry it’s cold,” you murmur, and he gives a smile, shrugging it off easily. You find a colour match easily, and it doesn’t take long, so you hand him a makeup wipe as Jorie starts talking at you, about how Corey himself would be handling the tattoo covering but that he wanted you there to help out. Of course you knew you’d need to be there, you’re his assistant after all, and after you note the shade required, you stand back and watch Jorie do her work. 

“I wish we had one of the wigs,” she muses, finally stepping away after she’d finished touching up his eyebrows, and you join her where she moves to stand behind his chair, all three of you looking at him in the mirror.

“You did good though,” you nod approvingly, leaning in a little to compare Colson’s reflection to the picture of Tommy taped to the mirror. 

“‘Stina,” Jorie calls, “do we have hair coming in later today?” 

“At three,” Christine calls back, and finally you look to where she’s standing by the changing room, putting pins into a leather harness that Douglas was wearing; it looked equal parts uncomfortable and sexy, though you know the second part was on purpose the first part would probably be helped by being surrounded by everyone in their own eighties, bordering-on-fetish costumes. You give him a thumbs up, expression pensive as you look him over, and look back to the photo of Nikki by the mirror. It does not seem to ease his discomfort. 

“Alright, sounds good, are you ready to send the next one over to us?” Jorie calls back, and after Christine tells Douglas to get changed out of his costume, you send Colson over to her.

“Don’t wipe that off, we can touch it up but we wanna see it with the wig,” you instruct, and he gives a mock salute and a grin, and you feel yourself smiling back. He was a lot... less than his stage name lead you to believe; he had a lot of energy just under the surface, that much you could tell, which meant he had great potential for his role as the over the top drummer, but he had an easy confidence, a level of professionalism that you’re grateful for, and a tattoo of a spider over his nipple, which you’re not sure of the significance of but it amuses you.

And, not to be shallow, though in this industry sometimes you can let yourself be, he’s hot. Though maybe you just had a thing for guys in eyeliner.

Stop.

You were going to be getting up close and personal with him for the next few months as you would probably be helping Corey cover all his tattoos; thirsting over him in eyeliner is the last thing you’re allowed to think about doing. Above all else, you had to stay professional.

And, as the weeks went on, you were successful in that.

Mostly.

“What’s that one about?” You ask, poking at the tattoo of a London bus on his side. He jumped a little at the prod, giving you an amused but rather tired grin as Corey said your name like a warning. It was almost eight in the morning and he was trying to airbrush an even base coat of darker makeup across Colson’s back that you could apply foundation on top of. It was one of the days where he’d be filming shirtless, and ‘even’ was hard to achieve if he kept moving.

“I got hit by a bus.”

“No you didn’t; shut up!” Your eyes shine bright with amusement as you give him a disbelieving grin. He smiles back, sharp, eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Did you think I got it immortalised on my fuckin’ body for fun? It hit me full force; I cracked the windshield,” and he sounds almost proud of it, and maybe he is, but you don’t seem to notice how his smile gets a little wider when he hears you laugh.

“And what about this one?” You poke at the spider over his nipple and he squirms a little. Corey says your name, more insistent this time, and you mutter out a half-assed apology, moreso waiting for Colson’s reply.

“That one’s just cool.” 

Maybe it’s the fact that you spend three hours with him a day at least, being weirdly close, which is par for the course when you’re applying foundation to his whole chest and sometimes his legs, but you’re becoming fast friends. Corey’s adamant that you don’t need to come in for the full three hours every day, but you’re there with a smile; rain, hail, or shine, just proclaiming that you enjoy your job when Colson asks about it. He calls you dedicated, and he’s mostly right; though if you’re being honest, part of you just enjoys spending time with him.

“Do you listen to any rap?” He asks, curious one day; Corey’s finished the airbrushing stage and has stepped out to grab a coffee from craft services, leaving you to start on the foundation.

“You mean, do I listen to you?” You smirked, not looking away from where you’re dabbing the foundation down his arm.

“I know you don’t listen to me; you didn’t even know who I was ‘first time we met,” he snickered, and you considered for a moment, humming as you turn his arm over gently and start working on his forearm. 

“Well, okay, you’ve got me there, it’s just not my style, you know?” 

“That wasn’t really the question,” he’s smiling a little, and you huff out a laugh, conceding.

“I mean, I don’t hate it; if you’re really twisting my arm I’d say I sometimes listen to some of The Beastie Boys earlier stuff; Slow Ride, Posse in Effect, Paul Revere? That I can jam out to.” And you look at him, guaging his reaction, biting back a laugh at his exaggerated wince.

“Not even Sabotage; so you really don’t listen to anything from this century?” He’s teasing you now, and you have to chuckle at that.

“Sabotage is okay.” You roll your eyes, looking back at your work. “When you guys stopped using a brass section as accompaniment, that’s when you lost me; it just adds a certain...” you hum thoughtfully for a moment, taping your chin as if in deep thought. He actually laughs at that, and when you look up, you think your heart might skip a beat at the sight of his smile, “gravitas? Je ne sais quoi?”

“So what do you listen to? What modern music has that,” and he puts on a terrible french accent to gently mock your earlier words, “je ne sais quoi?” You shove him lightly, though there’s no malice in the move, or in your grin as you’re moving to stand in front of him. You start dabbing makeup across his chest and collar. It’s getting harder and harder to keep your thoughts professional when you’re so damn close to him, and he won’t stop smiling at you like that.

Listing off a few bands from this decade seems to placate his curiosity enough, even if he rolls his eyes at some of your choices. Pausing for a moment, you tip your head side to side, considering.

“And classic rock, of course; not just the music, like the people behind it are fascinating, you know?”

Surprisingly, he’s quiet for a long moment.

“You must be enjoying this then,” he muses, though you can hear the suggestiveness in his tone and you swallow hard, refusing to take your eyes off your work.

“This production?” You deliberately refuse to read into his tone, though he was making it difficult when you could hear his smirk in his words, “yeah it’s been pretty great. Get to listen to a bunch of Crue all day? There’s definitely worse jobs in the world.” Snickering, you chance a look at him, though he’s not meeting your gaze, he’s still smiling as watches you work in the reflection of the mirror.

“What about you? Enjoying yourself?”

“Yeah, I mean it’s a challenge at times, but it’s a good one, you know? And I’m getting up at six every morning which is kind of a drag,” he grins though as you mutter out a quiet apology, “nah, don’t worry about it, ‘just part of the job. It’s good, it’s one-hundred.” And he’s looking at you, gaze a little unreadable where you’ve gone quiet as you work, focusing. 

It becomes a routine that you fall easily into; wake up at some ungodly hour, smash a coffee or an energy drink before spending three hours covering Colson’s tattoos with Corey, spend an extra hour and a half helping paint on Tommy’s tattoos if the scenes calls for it. Once he’s done, you tell Corey you’re going to get breakfast but you actually take a nap before you’re woken up by one of the production assistants telling you that you have twenty minutes before you need to be on set, so you race to the corner store and grab something cheap and eat it in a distracted haze as you head back to Corey’s trailer to pick up your makeup bag, before heading to set to be on standby for if any of the boys need touch-ups as filming starts. You’re there longer than most of the cast, staying back after filming’s wrapped for the day to help Colson take off his makeup and get the workspace prepped for the following day, crashing into bed almost immediately after getting home to rinse and repeat all over again. It was fun to begin with, but it was wearing you down quickly.

“Dude, you look dead on your feet.” Colson frowns as you yawn loudly, haphazardly blotting foundation onto his back.

“Y/N, it’s looking patchy, I need you to focus,” Corey’s frowning, but for a different reason as he looks over from where he’s made a start on the actor’s shoulder. You wave Corey off with a mumbled apology, rubbing at your eyes before recentering yourself and getting back to work. You meet Colson’s gaze in the mirror for a beat; he actually looks concerned, but you’re too tired to really care.

And okay, maybe, just maybe, seeing pretty girls drape themselves over the cast, over Colson, over all your hard work, it got irritating. Not that you begrudged those beautiful girls their job, it’s just that sometimes the oil or body glitter they’re covered in to play strippers would end up exposing some of Colson’s tattoos as they were all over him in certain scenes. Next to them, you were the one wearing jeans and a sweater, carrying a tote bag and looking like a child when you had to touch up his makeup. Everyone was always kind to you, of course, and you to them, but you think it’s more pity on their part; it’s common knowledge within the first week of filming how early you had to arrive, and how late you stayed back.

Some of the girls were incredibly talented actors. Probably. They were wasted in this film, reduced to eye candy and sex dolls, pretty beyond belief but not with any real substance. More than a few of them were dismissive of you, mean and sharp, because you weren’t the one responsible for their makeup, so you didn’t matter, and yeah, they were in intense, physically demanding scenes at times, but some of them seemed to just be catty for the sake of being catty. You tried not to let it get to you.

You really fucking tried.

Some of the extras had formed a sort of clique against you, which you found absolutely ridiculous, but they seemed to resent the fact that you and Colson got along. It had been a few weeks, starting with just snide comments in your general vicinity, but by now it had moved on to straight-up bullying. It was never around anyone important, least of all Colson, and when you’d told Corey about it, he’d just advised you to ignore it, as if it would help. 

So you were tired, both physically and mentally, and this actor had the gall to come up to you and call you desperate. For doing your job.

“Hey, can you kindly fuck off?” You snapped, fury blazing in your eyes as you fought to keep your tone level, “I’m trying to do my fucking job, it’s not my damn fault the director won’t give you any screentime-”

“Wow, harsh.” Colson’s voice comes from somewhere to the left of you, and he doesn’t sound impressed. Of course he has to come in at the worst possible moment, just when you sound like a villain. It feels like you’re on the verge of tears, exhausted and stunned, and the extra’s expression flickers to something smug for the barest moment before looking almost painfully innocent.

“I’m really sorry,” she sighs softly, hanging her head; it’s an act, and not a very good one, but she’s pretty, “I just know you work in makeup and I thought you could help me find someone in costume to talk to; it’s okay, I’m sure I could find someone else.” It’s painfully scripted, and she plucks at the string of the bikini she was wearing nervously for effect, turning and heading away. 

“Take a break or something, you’re acting like a tool,” Colson says, and doesn’t let you get a word in edgewise, going after the girl, whose ruse had manipulated him just as she’d wanted. He’s introducing himself and you feel like death standing; you hear a snicker from behind you, and when you turn there’s one of the extra’s friends, another from the clique, smiling triumphant. 

When you get back to Corey’s trailer, he pauses where he’s eating a sandwich from Craft Services, and raises an eyebrow at you. You bite back your bitterness and pull your sweater from your bag, balling it up and using it as a pillow as you resigned yourself to napping beneath the row of makeup mirrors. Corey goes back to his lunch.

“You wanna talk about whatever this is?” Corey asks. You’re struggling to untangle your earphones after pulling them from your pockets.

“Unless you can do something about the asshole actors on set, no, I don’t want to talk about it.” You sigh, resigned and resolute. Corey nods, taking another bite of his sandwich.

“Fuckin’ actors.” He muses.

“Fuckin’ actors.” You agree. It’s not an honest statement regarding your feelings towards actors as a whole, but sometimes a few bad apples really did spoil the bunch, even if it was only for a moment. 

You get to nap, heart aching where you’re pretty sure Colson thinks you’re some work-obsessed asshole who thinks you’re better than the actors you work with. Which you obviously don’t, but daily bullying can wear down the nerves. It only takes a moment, one careless comment that came out too harsh for the likes of onlookers, and any good will you’d been building up seems to evaporate. Not to mention the lies you know the extra had probably been feeding him since the moment you left.

When Colson comes in to get his makeup removed for the day, the tension is so thick that to you it felt solid. You’re sitting in one of the makeup chairs, spinning idly, scrolling through your phone when the door opens; his gaze finds yours the moment he steps in, but he gives you a look, scrutinising, almost disbelieving, and he looks away.

“Do you need my help?” You asked Corey pointedly, your gaze shallow and tired. Colson was tying his wig into a bun already, a look you quietly adored, though he was refusing to look at you. God, the clique really had managed to slander you in only a few hours.

“No dear, go home and rest, you need it,” Corey smiles at you, and you’re already moving around, pulling on your sweater and collecting your things. You want to say something, say anything to the man who’s now regarding you icily, but soon enough some of the other members of the makeup team are here, like always to help speed up the removal process, and your voice gets caught in your throat.

“Hey,” by the door, you finally stop, “I don’t-” but your breath catches on a sigh, “I don’t have the energy for this; I’m not the asshole.” And you sound so defeated, but he doesn’t answer, just rolls his eyes and keeps scrubbing at the foundation on his skin. 

The moment you step into the trailer the next morning, same time as always, at the crack of dawn, you can already feel exhaustion settling into your bones.

“Take the day off,” Corey frowns at you, “Colson told me what those assholes told him; I’m gonna have a word with him about it this morning.”

“No, dude, I’ve gotta explain myself, if I take the day off it looks like I’m running away; I’m an adult, I don’t need you stepping in for me.” It takes you a moment, and you sigh, defeated, “listen, Corey, I actually really like Colson, okay? And I don’t want him to think less of me, so if that means I have to be up at too-fucking-early-o’clock convincing him I’m not a complete bitch, then so be it.” Corey can’t help the pitying look he gives you, but doesn’t say anything more on the subject.

You’ve worked in this industry for years, it’s not the first time something like this has happened; while working in close proximity to talented, famous individuals, outsiders sometimes get jealous. It’s easy to be told to try and ignore it, but it doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. It doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt when someone you thought you were getting along well with completely ices you out because someone who’s jealous twists their opinion of you. 

It takes a full hour, the silence thick and heavily as Colson stood patiently as the makeup was applied, before you can work up the courage to say something.

“What did she say to you?” It takes him a few moments to register what you’d said, but he frowns a little in confusion. “What did she say to you about me?” You reiterate, voice calm and level, focusing on your work as you speak, and his mouth opens as he goes to tentatively respond, but you don’t give him the chance, “because I can promise you she’s lying.” His mouth closes again, frown deepening. Corey is silent too.

“Well, I was told that you treat her like shit and don’t take her seriously just because she’s an actor, which is pretty fucked,” he admits with surprising candor. You have to take a moment to stop yourself from rolling your eyes. 

“It would be fucked if it was true.”

“But you don’t take her seriously. Apparently you ignore her when she comes to you for help.” And it hurts to hear him spout the slanderous rhetoric the extra had poisoned him with.

“It’s not Y/N’s job to help her,” Corey cuts in, much to both Colson’s and your own surprise, “and I’m sure if she had a real question, she would point her in the direction of someone who could help her. ” His tone doesn’t leave room for arguments, though Colson doesn’t exactly seem convinced; perhaps he assumed that you really were some heinous bitch who had turned the makeup department head to your side.

“I do take actors seriously, obviously,” you gesture to him, and he makes an expression that’s a little unreadable, “but if you have to know, she and a group of other extras have been harassing me for weeks now, so yeah, I tend to ignore her.” 

Your hands are shaking. When did that start? God, when did you start caring so much about what he thought of you? When did the idea of him thinking badly of you start making your chest hurt. When did schoolyard bullying start getting to you so much? Things are moving in a blur, and you think you mumble something about getting a coffee before you leave the trailer. 

Corey finds you half an hour later at the corner store, staring blankly at the coffee machine, cup of undrunk, now cold coffee in hand.

“Go home. Please.”

You look at him, but his words aren’t really registering; he realises he may have interrupted a micronap. It appears you need rest far more badly than he realised. He sends you home for the rest of the week, and it’s a Wednesday. You want to protest, but you cut yourself off with a yawn and he calls an Uber for you without letting you get a word in edgewise. 

It’s practically radio silence for almost five days. 

You watch Netflix and eat junk and take baths and claim self care when really you’re wallowing, dreading going back to work. Sometimes you catch yourself just staring at your phone; you and Colson have each other’s numbers ‘in case of emergency’, though what would constitute a makeup related emergency you’re not sure, it was his suggestion. Emergencies turned out to be him asking about call times, sending selfies from on-set where his face makeup was running from how much he was sweating, he’s grinning and bright and Douglas or Iwan or Daniel are pulling a face in the background, blurry photos of you on set that you hadn’t realised he’d been taking at the time. 

There’s one you stop at when you’re looking back through them, it’s another selfie, he’s squinting, having just woken up, and half cut out of the shot where he’s focused the camera on a smudge of foundation and a bit of eyeliner on his white pillowcase where he hadn’t managed to get all of the makeup off the night before. It’s surprisingly intimate, despite the fact that he’s followed it up with [💀😢].

You wanted to send something, to say something, but you weren’t sure what you had left to say. You weren’t in the wrong. You didn’t need to apologise. 

Sometimes you thought you saw the typing bubble appear, but it would disappear just as quickly.

You’re refreshed by the time you step back into the trailer on Monday morning, feeling almost chirpy, that is until you see that Colson’s arrived before you, and Corey’s nowhere around.

It’s not the same as last time, there’s no anger, no hostility in the way he’s regarding you, just a surprising pensiveness. He’s lounging in his makeup chair, watching as you put down your things and start rifling through the collection of makeup on the counter.

“Where’s Corey?” You ask, carefully neutral.

“Said he’s getting coffee.”

“That’s kind of him.” 

There’s a long pause that follow, and when you finally look at him, Colson seems to be considering you seriously.

“Do you have to be here?” Despite the words that are said, they don’t feel like an attack, instead they feel like a genuine question, bordering on concerned.

“It’s my job,” you start, but he smiles a little, and something in your heart eases.

“Yeah, no, I know, but you don’t always have to arrive this early, do you? I wouldn’t if I had the choice,” he snickers, and you sit back on one of the other chairs scattered about the edge of the room, waiting for Corey to get back, playing with a makeup sponge.

“Well you don’t, and neither does Corey, and...” hesitating a little, you fidget, avoiding his gaze, “it didn’t seem fair.” You shrug, laughing a little awkwardly, “leaving you here with him all that time.” Though you’re trying to clarify by means of a joke, he sees through it clearly, expression quickly morphing into a grin.

“So he was right.”

“About what?” You ask, looking at him with surprise and confusion written all over your face; this wasn’t the reaction you were expecting. 

“Corey’s pretty convinced you just like spending time with me,” you can feel yourself getting flustered, looking down at your fidgeting fingers.

“He’s such a snitch.” You mutter, and Colson actually laughs, and though you feel your anxiety holding tight in your chest, you force your next words from your mouth; “yes, okay, if we’re going full middle-school about this, I enjoy your company. A lot.” You pause for a moment. “Are we good?”

“Yeah, of course; I’m sorry I was a dick last week,” he actually gets serious for a moment, tone surprisingly humble as he speaks, “I just- there’s like this long history of people shitting on me and not taking me seriously, so it touched a nerve, but I should know you better than that, right? Like we’ve spent enough time together that I should know you’re not some entitled dick.” 

It’s enough to make you smile.

“Corey gave you a talking to, didn’t he?” You teased, and Colson rolled his eyes.

“Practically the moment you left; turns out those girls have had a few complaints from HR, situations like yours,” he sighs, before grinning a little, “but yeah, we’re good.” 

It’s as if a sudden elation comes over you, and you have to work to not let it show on your face, else you’re pretty sure you’re going to embarrass yourself at how happy that makes you. 

“And of course I take you seriously,” you hear yourself saying as you turn to rearrange the makeup on the counter, though you both know he can still see your pleased grin in the mirror, “I take all actors seriously, and you’re wonderful to work with-”

“Oh, so I’m wonderful now?” He snickers, though it’s not unkind, and you accidentally knock over a bottle in your embarrassment.

“Wonderful to work with,” you clarify, but he still takes the win, just as Corey finally walks in with three mugs of corner store coffee in hand.

“You were right, and she thinks I’m wonderful.” Colson practically preens, and Corey makes a face, before turning that face on you.

“I take it back; you’re the worst client I’ve had.” You deadpan, and Colson can’t help but laugh.

“No way, you’re not living this down,” he muses, smiling fondly at you. “I’m gonna tell everyone-”

“Christ, tell me you’ve at least asked her out,” Corey sighs, putting down the coffees, and that shuts Colson up quickly, “or do I need to go on another twenty minute coffee run to give you two some space?” He doesn’t even wait for an answer, just heads towards the door, announcing that he’s going to get a spare airbrush head from the other makeup trailer and that you have ten minutes.

“Sorry about him.” You say into the silence that follows in the wake of Corey’s departure. Colson’s surprisingly tight-lipped, avoiding looking at you. “He makes a lot of assumptions.” You add, getting to your feet and crossing to where the coffees sat in their little, cardboard carry-tray. Each cup has a name, and you take both yours and Colson’s, heading over to him with an expression that you hope is something akin to a friendly smile, and not a grimace of embarrassment.

“He’s right though,” Colson reaches out for his coffee when you offer it; his fingers brush your as he meets your gaze and it feels like a moment. “You wanna grab dinner or something after today?” 

Mind whirling, part of you thinks he’s made a mistake, that he hadn’t meant to say it, another part worries about what the rest of the cast and crew will think, and part of you is worried it’s a joke. But you’re so sick of doubt.

“Yeah, actually I’d love to.”

The morning passes in a breeze, passes much more easily than it’s seemed to for the past month, and there’s butterflies in your stomach the entire time. There’s an electricity in the air during filming, though you’re pretty sure you’re the only one who can feel it. He’s wearing the wig with the undercut, sitting behind the drums up on the risers for most of the day, wearing only a pair of underwear, boots, and suspenders; it’s quiet a look. Somehow he’s still managed to sneak his phone up there because you’re zoning out at the side of the set, and he takes a photo of you, sending it to you; your eyes are glassy by you’re grinning to yourself, and once you get it, you look to him, and he’s grinning as if he’s waiting for your reaction. You roll your eyes at him, but you’re still smiling; you’ve missed this.

“You’re actually kind of sweet, aren’t you?” After filming wraps for the day, you’re crammed into a booth of the only restaurant open in town past ten. You’ve just ordered, and he’s leaning back, regarding you with amusement.

“I don’t know why that surprises people, most of my asshole act is just, you know, an act, for show or whatever,” he shrugs a little, smirking, “most of it; sometimes I am just an asshole.”

“I don’t know your asshole act,” you remind, smiling a little; there’s butterflies in your stomach but they’re excited rather than nervous, relishing in the way he’s smiling at you, “but I guess I should have know you better anyways; after all, we’ve spent enough time together, haven’t we?”

[junquisite]

Dangerous love 6

This is quite longer then my usual updates for this post so buckle up!

"You go that side and I'll cover the first floor." Junhee said and when he saw Chan and his team were about to protest, "it's an order." He said and the three men nodded stiffly and went away.

Logically he should have divided the team equally but Chan was shot in his arm and he needed more protection. So he will deal with any member left on the first floor himself.

When he was almost done perusing the floor and was about to go downstairs, he heard disturbance through his in-ears.

"Kwan?" He said, trying to contact the agent sitting outside the area probably on surveillance.

"HYUNG!" He heard his voice suddenly but it was breaking badly.

"they-reached-run" he heard his broken voice telling him.

"I can't hear anything Kwan. But I'm leaving." He said and turned to the stairs, only to come face to face with Hangyul, a member of the gang and her friend, smiling at him"you remember me agent park!" He said.

"Hangyul?" Junhee whispered when he heard a loud smack and felt pain in his head as he felt his vision blurring.

~

"so this is the NIS agent you have picked up for negotiation?" He heard her voice but she sounded far away.

And should he be hearing her voice at all?

And why couldn't he see? He took a deep breath to calm himself down only to feel intense pain in the back of his head and he remembered seeing Hangyul and then nothing after.

Was he kidnapped? For negotiation as she said?

With NIS? but why?

He tried to move his body and he found that hus hands were tied but he was sitting. Probably tied to a chair. He had a bag on his head and there was tape on his mouth so he couldn't make a noise.

What the hell was going on?

"Yeah but I don't think you're going to like this." He heard a calm voice tell her and he heard her question the person.

"It's agent Park." Another calm voice said and there was a chilly silence.

"Agent park? Park junhee? MY JUNHEE?" by the end she was screaming he heard a ruckus.

Was she being held back?

"Who the hell brought him in like this? FUCKING UNTIE HIM NOW!" he heard her yelling and then there were two pair of hands opening his restrains.

Suddenly there was light and he was squinting his eyes before he felt her hands taking of the tape and holding his face.

"Are you okay?" She said, quite softly in comparison and he looked around the room to see Hangyul and three other men before nodding at her.

"Are you hurt anywhere?" She asked and he mumbled a no before she pushed his hair back off his forehead and touched the back of his head accidently and he winced.

She quickly got on her feet to go behind him and saw a a bump and a cut with some dried blood caked in his hair and she cursed loudly.

"Who. Hit. Him." She said lowly and Junhee saw how Hangyul gulped before the other one who untied him raised his hands slightly.

In two seconds she had her gun out and cocked at him while she said,"I'm going to fucking kill you Cho Seungyoun."

The shorter of the two men standing behind stepped in between them and stared her down untill she put the gun back in her pocket and huffed.

"You are not going to hurt even a single more member. We need all men on force if NIS decides to break in to get him back." He said, looking pointedly at Junhee and she sighed.

The one who said it looked at Junhee and bowed slightly at him.

"I'm Kim Wooseok. The leader of the Arcana gang. I am sorry this is the way we are meeting for the first time and I hope you can forget the way they brought you here. Since we are almost family now." He said and Junhee was confused, VERY confused because.. family? What?

"You already know Hangyul. And Seungyoun now. That is Seungwoo, her partner." Wooseok said, pointing at the other calm man.

From the voices he could tell the first own who spoke was Wooseok and the other one must be Seungwoo then.

Also what? Partner?

She had a partner?

"I am sorry I didn't meant to hit you that hard. It won't happen again. Unless you choose to hurt her obviously." Seungyoun said with a shrug as if it was natural and Junhee felt very confused. Why suddenly his kidnapping had turned into some sort of introduction to her what.. family?

"She has a partner? But I usually see her with Hangyul and the others." He said the first thing that he felt was easy to talk about.

He saw Seungwoo scoff as he came forward from behind and stood in front of him. He was intimidating and TALL and Junhee already disliked him.

"Yeah. She has recently choosen to ditch me to go with Hangyul for small missions to frolic with you in her work time. But we did crossed path once. The first mission where you saw her after your trip to Hawaii. That was me."

His first time meeting her after the trip where he actually met her, she did had someone working with her.

"You were the guy in the mask?" He asked an Seungwoo nodded.

"In fact I have only actually ever seen hangyul from you lot. Nor did I thought the leader of Arcana gang would be so young." He said looking at Wooseok who just smirked at him.

"He's actually a year younger then you, you know." She whispered to him from beside him and he nodded. He can see that.

"I usually work with Hangyul but for the time being I guess you can say me and her have swapped partners." Seungyoun said and Junhee nodded.

"We'll be leaving. He'll be staying in my room." She said, tugging at his hand when Seungwoo stopped her.

"Everyone will talk. He's supposed to be a prisoner here."

"Whoever talks can meet me in the practice room. I have a few new weapons I still haven't tried yet." She said and Wooseok rolled his eyes at him.

"I said no more hurting. We need all manpower."

"Why exactly am I here?" Junhee asked and when everyone stared at him he realised this should have been his first question.

"NIS has captured 7 of our men. We need them back. We needed someone they would actually want back and won't mind sacrificing. So it was you agent park. You're the jewel of NIS." Wooseok said and he gulped.

"NIS won't sacrifice a few agents like you said." He said and he heard snickers everywhere around him and even she was chuckling.

"You'll be surprised how many have suffered because NIS chose to keep our men locked up instead of saving their men agent park. That's why it was you. You are in public eye, the public representative and a loved agent. You can't be left to die."

"let's go." She said again tugging at him when he stopped her again, turning to Hangyul, "was this what you meant when you said remember my name, you'll see me again?" And Hangyul stared back at him, utterly confused.

"He means when you were collecting guns of the agents last time." She added and he chuckled.

"Oh that? No ofcourse not. We didn't knew this would happen. I said that because obviously you'll meet us once she'll bring you around to meet us. We're her family and you'll obviously meet her family won't you?" He said but before Junhee could respond, he added "unless you don't plan to stay long enough with her agent."

The room suddenly felt too cold to him as he looked around the other three men.

It was somehow ominous.

They were nice to him but it all felt weird. Almost fake.

Almost for her sake.

[theelliottsmiths]

I love it when you rate stuff, it’s almost always on point, so can you rate this for me? Each Rammboi’s performance thing in Mein Teil! Go!

Okay I've decided. I had to rewatch and try and clear my mind of the things I thought when I saw it when I was younger but actually that might have been a better way to go.

Richard. The whole wrestling with himself thing is a solid blend of interesting/creative and immediately understandable and it feels like an anchor for the rest of the video, especially since you can easily argue the rest of the boys are fighting in their own ways (I think it's way easier to see that with Richard's segment there). It's not overly artsy or trying too hard to say something but it does a really good job of saying what it wants to say, if that makes sense. Plus he looks like he enjoyed it quite a lot in the making of.

Schneider. The birth of our collective wife. It really is amazing how he does and doesn't remind me of Armin Meiwes' mother, they did a really good job and it makes his whole segment all the more disturbing. I love the look he gives as he turns at the beginning, it sets the tone very nicely and I think kind of... Does it make sense if I say it shows that the others belong to her? The bulk of his part also kind of ties together the whole Devouring theme, or it would if the other main Devouring part was better, and I very much appreciate the way she loses control/her composure so differently to the others. I'd have preferred to live my life without ever hearing Zoran tell someone to grab their cock but I mean, unlike some people Schneider seemed very much into it so good for him I guess. He's a formidable woman. Also did he tuck for the video? I feel like yes.

Oli. 10/10 deeply disturbing. I have to look away every time he does the toe drag thing. I know he has a lot of strength and also limb but I'm still in mild awe that he can do all of that with his body, and with such rigidity. The faces are so much more than I would have thought him capable of and I fucking adore it, I'd watch a longer performance. Also? Very good introduction to Butoh so I do appreciate that.

Flake. Dramatic. Elegant but specifically in the same way a new foal running is elegant. It's like an 'isnt nature wonderful' kind of elegance and, instead of a physical kind of I almost fucking said beastiality (which isn't even how the word is spelled so maybe I get a pass for trying) uh... Bestial quality? like the others sans Schendier have he looks like a mostly regular dude and the disturbing stuff is all coming from inside on a higher level, which comes to a head during the mud scene. His face is doing very different things to everyone else's because of course it is, it's Flake. It makes perfect sense.

Paul. His is actually really good too, he's below Flake purely because I don't like the teeth. He makes a lot of surprisingly raw facial expressions, which I like for a lot of reasons but mainly because he doesn't have a very sincere face generally speaking (it's very showy and usually for the benefit of others rather than being an open book, which is totally fine). The thrashing unfortunately does remind me of a fish.

Till. Compared to the others it's just too on the nose, I think? Even if you ignore the gratuitous blowjob the tone is just very different to the others, it's a bit too close to the lyrics and further away from the vibe. The feathers seem jarringly cheap, I think is what a lot of it is? Plus, just saying, if you're going to use the whole eroticism and connection thing it should have, in keeping with the true story and the lyrics, been a male angel. A mangel, if you will, rather than deciding to brutalise and kill a black woman in a way that just doesn't fit with the rest of it. Seeing Till expertly blow a strap was interesting though. But yeah no I don't think it works as art, it doesn't hit the marks I'd want a Fuck-Kill-And-Devour-An-Angel story to hit. Also he does just shove a whole mess of hair in his mouth at one point which I guess is dedication to his art but, like with Olis toe thing, no thank you.

The highlight of the video for me is the pair of group scenes though, the mud fight and the crawl through the streets. Flake rising up from the mud like some kind of Eldrich lagoon beast is my favourite shot from the video.

Paul didn't seem the biggest fan of acting like a puppy, but Richard, Oli and Till sure did get into it huh. Flake had his moments but the camera didn't help by almost never showing him crawling. Schneider was extremely believable, when he said he was getting into the role he didn't exaggerate.

[dekatsu]

Anyway, remember my arranged marriage au idea? I did a little something

It’s the third time in a row in which Katsuki swipes his finger over his phone to reject the call of his mother, when he gets the text. He growls at it, stands and scares the minions in his office in the process.

“If this is all, I need to leave.”

“But Bakugou-san, we still need to discuss next month’s budget adjustments. We were way over-“

“Make the arrangements and I’ll sign it off. I need to go,” he tells the man and makes his way out. “I want the report for last week’s mission on my desk by morning. Get someone over to the police station to gather the intel behind next month’s joined operation and get it done by Monday.”

“But that’s imposs-“

“You heard what I said,” Katsuki says and has to restrain himself from running to his car. Damn the old hag. She just has to pull this shit on a Wednesday morning, when he’s working. Once in the car, he doesn’t stop to take his gloves off, just hits the road and removes one, then the other with his teeth.

The phone connects just when he reaches his apartment. “Why, I thought you were ignoring my calls?”

“Touch my shit and I’ll kill you,” he says, just as he opens the front door to his apartment and sees his mother sitting smugly on his couch. Putting his phone away, he points at the door. “Out,” he growls.

“Your manners are horrible. I guess that’s on me. But really, that you would race right home just because I took a picture of your precious collection.” His mother tuts and then stands up, handing him the clothing in her arms. “Get dressed, we have places to be.”

“I’m not walking into one of your schemes. And you are one step away from becoming a complete lunatic.”

She gives him a glare that almost makes him take a step back but Katsuki holds his ground. It’s his home, damn it. “I’m aware that I almost became a cliché, cutting holes into your shirts to get you to come back home. See how desperate I am? Anyway, your father signed off on this one so either you come along or he will visit you tonight.”

Katsuki snatches the clothes from his mother’s hands and gives her a glare of his own. “That’s low, even for you.”

“Gotta use all my resources, wouldn’t you agree? He’s becoming even more sentimental lately, now that your career has taken a rise.”

Katsuki doesn’t bother listening further, instead makes a beeline for his room to get changed. Whatever his mother is planning, it requires traditional clothing, so he finds himself changing into a black kimono. Scrunching his face up at the soft fabric, he calls his mother and she comes in, fussing about and getting every fold into order before she looks him over and nods once.

The moment she pulls her phone out, he makes he goes to the door. He draws the line at pictures. “Let’s get this shit over with so that I can get back to work.”

“Look happy that you get to spend time with me, brat.”

“Not when you keep putting me into those situations. If this is another blind date, I’ll walk out the moment we arrive and leave you there.”

“Just get into the car and get us to this wonderful hotel.”

Katsuki frowns, looking at the hotel name. He thinks he heard about it before, but he can’t be sure. “What are we doing there?”

“A meeting,” his mother replies as she closes the car door and adjusts her belt.

“With?”

She gives him a small smile, obviously not willing to say more on the topic. So, he turns to the street. Just before they arrive at the hotel, he says, “This time, you give me my key back.”

“If you promise to sit through the whole thing.”

“Old hag, this isn’t funny.”

“Yeah, yeah. I give it back to you. Whatever. Just pull over. We are late already.”

Katsuki parks and gets out of the car, holding his hand out. Once his mother realizes he won’t move until he’s got his key, she pulls it out of her purse and huffs, as she hands it over. “I’m doing this for you,” she insists but Katsuki doesn’t bother replying.

They have been over this a few times and he’s drawing the line. “Just lead the way.”

“You used to be cute,” she says but leads the way anyway. Katsuki grins as he follows her and wonders how he can get her back for this. Maybe he can get his father in on it.

They reach a room just before he can finalize any concrete plans and his mother opens the door, apologizing as she does so. Inside, Katsuki sees a familiar face and immediately stops. He’s just about to open his mouth and demand explanations, when his mother reaches back and takes a hold of his wrist. “Katsuki had work to do before the meeting. I hope you didn’t wait terribly long, Inko.”

“Don’t worry, we were just getting comfortable, right Izuku?”

Katsuki is still staring as his mother pulls him over so that he sits right in front of Deku of all people. Is this a joke? This feels very much like a joke, only his mother is dressed formally, now that he pays attention. And so is Deku’s mother. When she catches him watching, she gives him a bright smile, very reminiscent of her son’s. Deku himself is clad in a kimono similar to Katsuki’s, only a dark shade of grey, where Katsuki’s is black.

“Anyway, I don’t think there is much introductions to be made between us, so how about you two go and walk through the gardens, while we both talk about further arrangements for this omiai.”

An Omiai. Of course, that is what this is. It just had to be something completely ridiculous. But Katsuki gave his word that he would stay until the end, so he makes to stand, whispers to his mother, “I’ll make you pay for this,” and goes towards the door.

Damn Deku hasn’t said a word yet and Katsuki is starting to get really trigger-happy. But he grits his teeth until they are out and have closed the door. The moment they are outside, Deku takes him by the arm and drags him away from the glass doors.

Katsuki pulls away only for Deku to turn on him with a frantic look. “You have do something, Kacchan!”

“Hah?” Katsuki backs a step away as Deku crowds him in. “What the fuck is wrong with you, Deku?”

“It’s all she’s been talking about all week! Every single day since last Tuesday and I can’t say anything because she gets so happy!” Deku says and then backs away to catch his breath. “She’s on the phone, constantly. And all she ever talks about is how happy she is about this omiai and how she got a feeling that this is it. I haven’t seen her this happy since I graduated U.A. It’s crazy but I can’t bring myself to say anything that would ruin her mood. With all of my missions lately, I have been getting hurt frequently and even though I don’t come home with brok-“

“Shut the fuck up,” Katsuki shouts and presses Deku against the glass door of the room next to their own. “You keep blabbering. How the fuck am I supposed to make sense of that?”

“I can’t take this away from her, not when it makes her this happy.” Deku exclaims, holding on to the hand that’s pining him to the door with both of his own. “You have to do it, Kacchan.”

Suddenly uncomfortable, Katsuki shakes Deku’s hands off and backs away from him. He’s almost shaking with frantic energy and it’s rubbing Katsuki the wrong way. “I don’t have to do shit.”

“But I can’t say no. And you don’t want to marry me either, so just say no and we can put this behind us.” Deku pats his kimono down, makes sure it doesn’t look like they got into a fight and looks at Katsuki desperately. Katsuki takes another step back, feeling his anger grow. “Like that, it won’t be me disappointing her, again.”

“Why the fuck should I take the fall for you?” Katsuki turns away from him and walks back where they came from. He’s suddenly desperate to get away from Deku. The last time he saw the idiot this desperate was when he was in his first year and Deku tried to do stupid shit to save him.

“But you don’t want to get married either, don’t you? We can break this off, nicely. I just don’t want to say no to mom right now.” Deku scrambles after him, trying to hold pace as he continues to mutter. “You say no, the omiai is called off and mom won’t be displeased or disappointed with me.”

“Though luck, shitty nerd,” Katsuki says just as he plasters a fake grin on his face and turns to Deku. “Like hell I’m taking the fall for you. Own your shit.” Then he slides the glass door open and turns to Deku’s mother. “It was a pleasure meeting you today. But I got a call from work and have to leave early. I do hope for a next time.”

With those parting words to Deku’s mother, Katsuki goes for the door and leaves a shocked Deku behind. He hears his mother’s quick goodbyes as she hurries to catch up to him.

“What was that, Katsuki?”

“Why don’t you ask yourself, old hag?”

“What are you playing at?”

“Me?” He turns to her, grin on his face. “Why, I’m just going along with your wishes. And look, I agreed to a second meeting, didn’t I? What more do you want?”

Then he turns back to the exit and exhales sharply as he catches sight of his father by his car. “Jump in,” he says and as soon as the doors close, he hits on the pedals, not bothering to wait for his mother.

Next to him, his father laughs. “That bad?” he asks as he watches his angry wife get left behind. “Want to go for a drink?”

“Fuck yes,” Katsuki agrees. He tries hard not to think about his overbearing mother, Deku’s frantic demands and his own crazy, fucking, stupid decisions. “Like I’m going to dance to your tune, asshole.”

“Hmm?”

“It’s damn Deku,” Katsuki explains and hears his father chuckle again.

“It’s always that boy who gets you this worked up. What did he do now?”

“Asked me to dump him.”

“Let me guess: It rubbed you the wrong way, so you did the exact opposite,” his father says, smile evident in his voice.

So, Katsuki laughs and says, “Exactly. The fuck am I taking the fall for him. If he wants this to end, he gotta do it himself.”

“But you are playing right into your mother’s palm, aren’t you?” his father muses.

It makes Katsuki grin gleefully. “She’s too busy making sense of my sudden agreement. It will keep her off my back, until she figures out why I agreed.”

He can see his father shake his head with a rueful smile. “Until when do you plan to keep this up?”

“Until Deku admits defeat and backs out,” Katsuki says, obviously.

The laugh isn’t surprising at all, and Katsuki smiles with the knowledge of having distressed two of his biggest problem. He’s going to enjoy this for as long as it lasts.