#totally didn’t draw this cause I love their size different

[checkertrains]

Everyone need a emotional support fallen angel by their side in these trying times🙏

[kookslastbutton]

Those Eyes Chico ༓ myg (m) | chapter two

✑ Summary: As the new marketing director for Min Yoongi’s upcoming D-Day album & tour, you’re expected to bring your expertise to the table. This shouldn’t be a problem—you’re the best in the business and you’re used to drawing a strict line between your professional and personal life. But what happens when the lines you’ve fought to keep as separate blur for the first time?

pairing: idol!yoongi x plus size!poc!reader

genre/AU: angst, fluff, smut, slowburn, coworkers2friends2lovers, winter setting, forbidden love

word count: 6.1k+

warnings: This chapter in particular is written from Yoongi's perspective, oc is 28, Yoon is 30, oc is not originally from South Korea, oc has light brown eyes, swearing, mentions of alcohol consumption, smoking, mentions of body shaming by Hybe executive, bestie!tae is wonderful support 🥹, light fighting between members (literally crack), Namjoon has a little crush, Oc being a total boss at work bc she is amazing at her job, and cute & meaningful Yoon and OC interactions that make them finally start bonding (a little flirty too, hehe) 😉

now playing: Sweet Dreams by The Last Shadow Puppets

a/n: CHAPTR TWO IS HERE! GOD...the slow burn exists outside the series too with me not updating for two months. I'm sorry guys but TYSM for your patience! I'm VERY excited to release this chapter bc I think Yoon & Oc are super cute, hehe. Okay anyway, this series is dedicated to my wonderfully crazy friend and sorta beta, Gloom @theuselessdaydreamingidiot, and to all our fellow Yoon lovers bc we miss our sweet man SO MUCH 🥺 Enjoy! 🥰 Also huge thank you to @itaeewon for designing this beautiful series header! Love it!!

Series Masterlist | next chapter >>

Yoongi stands with his hands placed loosely on his hip, chest heaving as he attempts to catch his breath. The seven of them had been practicing choreography for their new RUN BTS song nonstop when Jimin called for a much-needed, fifteen-minute break. There’s a part of him that’s thanking the younger for it and another that’s wishing he hadn’t, as every moment left alone with his thoughts is spent decoding his last encounter with you at the cafeteria.

Why had you made such a beeline for the exit the moment he was waved over by his member?

You also completely ignored his attempts to greet you on your way out. He only stopped by the cafeteria to slip an orange in his pocket before returning to his studio. He didn’t mean to intrude or incite that you had to leave with his sudden presence.

Taehyung assured him that you merely left to tend to work matters, which he’d typically sum as hyper-fixation with one’s work as he’s prone to do the same, but this felt different at its core. Your behavior seemed more intentional than that. The last thing he wants to do is misread the whole situation, but he must’ve done or said something to cause your uneasiness.

“Hyung, how did the album meeting go this morning?” A clear voice comes from Yoongi's left as his fellow band member, Namjoon, strides next to him, water bottle clenched in his fist. Like himself, large droplets of sweat dots around the man’s brow. The minor interruption shakes Yoongi out of his slightly dazed state.

“Went well.” He takes a big swish of his own water before screwing the cap back on. “We reviewed everything in three hours and the album looks better than I anticipated. There are a couple of promotional strategies that still need finalizing, but I’m pretty confident about it overall.”

“That’s great, man. __-nim’s been doing good work with TXT for the last few years, so she’s definitely suited for the job. I thought about requesting her help to promote Indigo but the timing of it all didn’t work.” Namjoon’s voice drops an octave at the last part, as if remorseful for more than a missed professional opportunity.

“Ah, maybe your next album hyung,” Jimin suddenly chimes in, slapping the taller man on the shoulder from the side. “I have a feeling you and __-nim would work well together. Think about it, you’re both natural born leaders and you’re smart too. I bet __ -nim has as high of an IQ as you.”

Namjoon’s cheeks flush with the faintest tint of rose as Jimin flashes a knowingly cheeky grin. Yoongi, of course, witnesses the entire exchange, the slightest part of him feeling uprooted by the thought of his band member and new marketing manager suddenly hitting it off. He decides not to comment on the matter, choosing to remain in ignorance instead. This is all speculation, right?

Now that they’re all on the subject of his album though, it gets him thinking that maybe he’s been too narrow viewed regarding the reason for your off putting behavior at lunch.

D-Day’s release has become a consuming priority lately, with everyone involved worked to the bone. Aside from himself, you’ve been bearing the brunt of it. He’s appreciative of course, considering the album holds a deep sense of meaning to him, and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want it to be perfect. A little pushback during the first proposal is natural, yet he did get more resistant toward ideas during this morning’s meeting than anticipated. Perhaps some of his nitpicking was unnecessary, adding to your already heavy load.

Yoongi’s head feels worse the longer he entertains the possibility. He doesn’t want to make the first time working together a complete whirlwind, especially this early. A strong, healthy partnership starts with trust, safety, and mutual respect. The same philosophy can be applied to relationships of varying natures. That reminds him—since when did Taehyung and you become so close? He’s been ruminating over it all afternoon, like a jigsaw puzzle he can’t solve.

It’s odd how little he knows.

“I heard someone mention __-nim over here. I want in.” A small grumble leaves Yoongi’s lips as Jungkook pushes next to him, displeased by how tiny his space bubble has gotten due to the huddle his members have formed around him. Just why the hell is everyone so interested in his new marketing director? That's what he wants to know.

“Can you introduce me to her sometime hyung?" Jungkook pleads. "I’m thinking about releasing an album in the next year and it’d be great if you could hook us up…yknow?”

Oh, Yoongi knows. He knows exactly what this young buck is insinuating, but it isn’t mating season yet and even if it were he will do no such thing as to “hook them up”. Besides, his conscience tells him that you wouldn't be interested in the company of a younger man anyway—not that your dating life is any of his business or anything.

“Get in line Jungkookie, behind Namjoon. He needs her for his album first.” Jimin squeezes down on Namjoon’s muscular shoulders with both hands, shaking him just enough to hype him up. His hands are removed seconds later when he’s told to knock it off.

“That’s enough about this, okay? I’m pretty sure Yoongi-hyung is the only one who actually needs __-nim right now because, in case you dumbasses have forgotten, D-Day is set to release in April,” Namjoon scolds the two with a commanding tone. Jungkook, per usual, remains persistent in his original request and keeps his full attention on Yoongi.

“Anyway hyung, as I was saying, I know your album takes priority so I’m in no hurry to meet her. I can be pretty patient as you know-“

“Heh, that’s a lie.”

“Shove it Jimin, no one’s talking to you.” Jungkook’s eyebrows scrunch together as Jimin snorts helplessly next to Namjoon.

“You shove it Kook,” Jimin counters. “And stop trying to date __-nim! Find your own woman!”

“I’m not trying to date her! She's my noona for gods sake! Do you think I’m oblivious to how the public reacts to idols dating? Also, __-nim is a Hybe employee, not an idol. I can only imagine the type of scandal the media would spin it as.”

“Right, we all know you actually just want to take her to your bed instead,” Jimin interrupts for the umpteenth time. “Our handsome leader, on the other hand, is interested in her professional abilities. We can learn a lot from him.”

“Why are you always trying to start a fight with me Jimin? Is it because I can take you, now that I've been building up more muscle?” Jungkook’s accusations earn him nothing more than a sea of eye-rolls until Jimin lunges himself towards him, puffing out his chest the best he can to size him up.

Namjoon rubs his face with a hand, a clear visual display of his exhaustion. He’s been moderating these stupid squabbles for nine years now. “Alright very mature, biggest boy band in the world and this is what it’s come to? Amazing, congrats to everyone for winning the award for most-”

“Woah, woah, woah,” Seokjin interjects, effortlessly shouting over everyone while waving his hands. “My brothers…why are we fighting over here like a couple of peacocks? We are all beautiful in our own, individual ways. Mine, for example, is my handsome face.”

“For the love of god hyung, we’re trying to settle something. Go take your inspirational pep talk elsewhere!” Jungkook bends his knees, swooping down to throw Jimin over his shoulder but he misses when the man starts tickling him ruthlessly.

“St-ah-stop it Jimin!"

“You stop it, you frickin’ brat! Trying to take advantage of our hyungs for your own selfish gain.” Jimin then slaps Jungkook on the ass which does not go unappreciated as Hoseok cackles from the other side of the room. Up until this point, he’s been scrolling on his phone, completely unbothered by the chaos. As Hoseok nears the action, Jungkook delivers a swift kick to Jimin’s rear end.

“Ow, what the fuck Kook?!” Jimin tries soothing the sting by massaging it with his hands. “You little prick!”

“Oh come on, I barely hit you. Gaining sympathy points won’t help this time, plus I see you trying to hide a grin. You think this shit is funny. You’re sick you know that?”

Jimin makes a move to return the kick to his youngest member but ends up hitting a far taller, and leaner subject instead. Taehyung, who just returned from the bathroom, throws a hand over his abdomen and grunts from the sudden impact.

“What is—shit Jimin that really hurt!” Taehyung’s baritone voice echoes off the walls as he winces from the pain. He takes a few deep breaths, then viciously eyes the two brawlers followed by the rest of the room. “What the hell is going on? I heard you all talking about __-nim from the hallway. Yoongi-hyung here is trying to kick off his album and tour, which we are supposed to be celebrating over drinks this Friday, but here you are arguing with each other and who has the biggest dick. Well, you can all put it away because as __-nim’s best friend, and number one wingman, only I’m allowed to set her up with someone and it won’t be with any of you! Sorry hyung…” he looks at Namjoon who appears to have brushed the comment off.

As soon as Taehyung ceases his mini-speech, eery silence sets in. Hoseok is the first to dare say a word.

“Uh, so what’s this about being her best friend Tae?”

“Yeah, I had no idea either.” Jimin quirks his head to the side, awaiting the details.

“Same,” Namjoon adds in a short breath.

“What happened to us, man?” Jungkook pouts at Taehyung, a total 180 from moments ago when he was in an unsolicited sparring match with Jimin. “You used to share everything with me. Now you’re holding out on me. Since when did you and __-nim start hanging out?”

Yoongi’s ears perk up for the first time since all the commotion began, curious to hear Taehyung’s response. He only recently discovered the blossoming friendship hours ago and even then, it was a brief inside look.

“I didn’t think to mention it but yeah, we started talking since her first day at Hybe. I bumped into her on the way into work, early morning for both of us. I expected her to be a bit on the reserved side, considering she was a new hire, but she was quite friendly. The more we talked, the more I felt like I knew her as if a childhood best friend I’d reconnected with.” Pausing, he wets his lips before continuing. “We share a lot of our meals together now, like our lunches during the weekday. Her food tastes amazing by the way. I think she missed her calling as a chef but it’s more than food— it’s a love language, a labor of love.”

“Wow, you two sure are connected,” Hoseok speaks first again, seeing the rest of his members working to process the new bit of info.

“Platonically, yes.”

“This’ll be good for Yoongi-hyung and his album then! No bad blood exists here!” Hoseok shifts his gaze between Taehyung and Yoongi, pleased with the outcome. The older of the two remains speechless, yet it’s far from a dazed expression. Yoongi is instead deep in thought, the wheels turning in his head.

So maybe it’s true that birds of a feather flock together, he hums to himself. The two of you seem to be social butterflies with a vase full of commonalities. He, on the other hand, prefers his solitude. That’s not to say he’s a hermit or anything though. Hybe hosts a company-wide New Year’s Eve party every single year and he’s made his best effort to attend them all. He mainly mingles with his members, but he still makes sure to small talk with other coworkers. Come to think of it, did he even see you at last year’s New Year’s Eve party?

He can’t remember much from the night except Seokjin scolding him for not wishing him a happy birthday the minute the clock struck midnight. He was a bit tipsy at that point. Taehyung disappeared soon after to make his usual rounds, stopping to chat with everyone in his path. Maybe he took off to talk to you during that time.

Okay, he really needs to stop thinking about you.

"Just to confirm, is everyone still on for Friday night to celebrate D-Day?" Jimin pipes. "I booked us a good place to have some food and drinks.

Taehyung nods, "I am, as long as it's not the same place we saw our CFO and his much younger date feeding each other. I couldn't eat for the rest of that night."

Jungkook fakes a gag before replying. "I'm sorry but does anyone know how is he still working here? Guy creeps me out."

"I swear, I couldn't agree more. Just yesterday he made an egregiously body-shaming comment toward __-nim to someone else on the board. She kept a brave front when she told me, but I'm damn tempted to get him removed from his position myself!" Taehyung's nostrils flare as he shares his frustration, fingers digging into his hips.

Yoongi takes a final chug of his water before abruptly tossing the bottle on the floor. A sharp crack resounds through the space, instantly commanding the authority of the room. “Fifteen minutes is over,” he gruffs. “It might be twenty minutes with all the bickering earlier. We don't have time to be talking about this anymore.”

“Come on now," Hoseok says. "Didn't you hear what Taehyung said? Our CFO really is a class-A jerk. I feel so bad that __-nim has to put up with his bullshit, she doesn't deserve it." His eyes frantically search the room, hoping to rally support.

"Don't worry about that asshole," Yoongi assures, "I'll handle it." He strides over to his choreographed position on the dance floor as if a leader in his own right, the rest of the members following in his steps.

"Just don't kill him, hyung," Namjoon says, resting a hand on the older's shoulder from behind. Yoongi merely snorts lightly in reply.

Yoongi is dead tired, his feet feeling heavier the minute he stands from his studio chair. He could have left hours ago, but here it is nearly 9:30 at night, and he's only just leaving the office.

As he shuffles down the hallway towards the elevator, he notices the eerie silence. It's thick, almost palpable. There's not a soul left in the building this late at night. When the elevator doors open, he leans casually against the metal rail, closes his eyes, and mentally retraces his day.

Overall, it was a decent day, he thinks, productive at best. Skipping dinner to work on his album tracks was an easy decision, but he might be paying for it now given the intense growling of his stomach. Despite his songs being considered perfect by his members, he can't help but tweak each one a final time. It's as if his gut tells him there's still a piece missing from the whole.

All at once, the elevator comes to a sudden stop. Yoongi's eyes shoot open, anticipation flooding his senses. Is someone still here? He listens intently, straining to hear any sound over the faint hum of the elevator. After a few moments that feel like an eternity, the elevator doors slide open to reveal an empty, dimly lit hallway. It's the 16th floor. He hesitates for a second, peering into the shadows, but there’s no sign of anyone. Strange.

Just as the elevator doors begin to close, Yoongi hears a distant, unmistakable voice. "Please hold the door!" you plead, your voice strained with urgency. He responds immediately, stretching out an arm to block the door. "Thank you so much," you say, slipping in beside him, your bag thrown over your shoulder.

Yoongi watches as you enter, curiosity in his eyes. It seems you were of like mind tonight, working late and likely burdened by the extra work he caused for you. The feeling of tension is as clear as it was yesterday, lingering as a reminder of the unspoken discomfort between you both.

But then again, there's that issue Taehyung mentioned, looming in his thoughts. He hadn't realized you overheard the horrendous comment his CFO made about you. No wonder you hurried away from him like a bat out of hell yesterday; you knew he knew. He wouldn't dare shine a light on the situation and risk embarrassing you further; no one needs to relive such a belittling experience. Yet, he's wrestling with the right words to say.

"Heading home, Min PD-nim?" You surprise him by speaking first, voice firm with a touch of gentleness.

Yoongi allows a faint smile to tug at the corners of his lips, hoping it'll relieve some tension. "I am, it's been quite a day. What about you?"

You nod, shifting the bag on your shoulder. "Same here. Just had to wrap up a few things before heading out."

He hesitates for a moment, noting how you speak as if it were only a few minutes past five or six in the evening. "I understand. I was working in my studio up until now. I should be back up there tomorrow too," he says, then chuckles lightly, "Sometimes I feel like I should just live up there."

You return the subtle laugh and smile softly at him, your light brown eyes catching his dark ones. It feels like the same prolonged gaze you shared upon first meeting, yet now, it's somehow become easier; perhaps a hint of familiarity.

"By the way," he continues, seizing the opportunity, "feel free to call me Yoongi-ssi. I'm not that formal in case you didn't know." He playfully gestures to his casual attire; tan cargo pants, grey plaid button-down, and sneakers.

You seem hesitant towards the request at first, evident from your delayed response. "Are you sure?" you choke. "I don't want to over step my boundaries."

"There's no need to worry about that," he assures. "We're on equal level aren't we? If we're going to be working side by side for the next eight months give or take, I want us to feel comfortable with each other. Please, call me Yoongi-ssi."

"Okay, I might need some time to get used to that," you say, head nodding, "I'll try calling you Yoongi-ssi from now on."

"There's one other thing too," he pauses, "since we'll be working on D-Day's promotion from start to finish, I'll have many of my own opinions. It's a natural instinct for me, but I don't want to be a hinderance. I don't want anyone else giving you issues either, so I'd like to hear your full thoughts on matters, especially when it comes to important decisions."

"That means a lot Yoongi-ssi, thank you. I'm very grateful that you'd allow me to be a part of this and I'd very much like us to have an equal partnership. This is your album though, so I want to make sure it gets the recognition it deserves in the way you'd prefer."

Yoongi glances at the floor numbers displayed to the right of the elevator doors. Any second now and you'll reach the lobby. He wouldn't mind talking longer, but letting you both get a decent night's sleep is the far better idea at this point.

"I trust that D-Day is in the right hands with you, __ssi," he replies. "It's why I recommended that we work together to promote it in the first place. Bang PD was also confident in the idea. We don't doubt your expertise for a second." He pauses when the elevator doors slide open and allows you to be the first to exit. "Have a good night, okay?"

For the first time, you reciprocate the wish with a full, illuminating smile. It's not a professional one, Yoongi notes, its a real one—as genuine and sincere as his words. He takes it as a sign that the tides may finally be turning for the better. "You too," he hears you say before you push through the large revolving doors and step into the cool night air.

In the evenings that follow, Yoongi finds himself back in his studio as promised, a glass of whiskey in hand. He ultimately decided that if he was going to be here until all hours of the night, he might as well have a cold beverage to keep him company.

As he leans back in his chair, swirling the dark amber liquor in his glass, his mind inadvertently wanders to you. Were you downstairs again? Were you here with him? It would seem that given your unexpected late-night encounter in the elevator, the validity of the idea wouldn't be all that wild or far-fetched.

With each passing minute, as the clock inches closer to the late hours, he finds himself circling back to the same thought. It's as if the possibility of running into you has become a highlight of his night.

Just then, a deep and familiar voice interrupts. "Burning the midnight oil again, hyung?"

Startled, Yoongi looks up to see Taehyung standing in the doorway, a sympathetic smile on his face. Despite it being almost 9 at night, his younger member is nothing short of flawless in appearance.

"Yeah, working on my tracks," Yoongi replies, offering a small smile in return. "What are you doing here?"

Taehyung steps further into the room, hand tucked in his pocket. "I wanted to stay late to keep __-nim company, but I'm not sure how much longer she plans on staying tonight. I was on my way out when I figured I'd stop by to see you too."

"Well, thanks for thinking of me. Want a drink?" He offers, nodding towards the nearby whiskey bottle.

"No, thanks," Taehyung declines politely, shaking his head. "I'll let you enjoy your whiskey in peace. Although, __-nim might take you up on that same offer one of these days. She has a strong taste for it, as you do. Anyway, I'm heading out. Don't overdo it with your music, hyung, they're already perfect."

Once Taehyung leaves the studio, Yoongi's previous string of thoughts return to him tenfold.

So you really are here, he muses, and you happen to like the same throat-burning alcohol. Should he venture downstairs and offer a drink? No, that would probably be too much, and he wouldn't want to interrupt you. Maybe if Taehyung were accompanying him, but not alone; he doesn't share enough rapport with you to merit such a spontaneous drop-in yet.

No, he takes another sip of his whiskey, he'll see you tomorrow morning instead; during your morning meeting. But that gets him thinking—he's still yet to decide on whether or not he'll make an appearance on Fallon's show. He’d done it with his members numerous times, but this would be the first time doing it alone. His album would indeed benefit from the exposure, though.

"Damn it," he curses, raising from his seat. "I work my ass off. I work my ass off for it all!" He then sits back down, finishing off the rest of his whiskey in one gulp, the burn soothing his frustration momentarily. With a resigned sigh, he turns his attention back to his music. "Damn it, I guess I'll do it."

If it weren't for his phone notification reminding him of his 10 am meeting on Friday, Yoongi would have missed it entirely. Normally, he never forgets important events, but several late nights in the studio had predictably caught up with him. He feels extremely sleep-deprived today, his memory more prone to blanking than usual. Waking up with a throbbing headache at 5 am, which hasn't dimmed in the slightest, doesn’t help either. Nonetheless, with only ten minutes to spare, Yoongi has no choice but to pull himself together and head downstairs to the conference room.

"Good morning, Min PD-nim," you greet him as he walks through the door. "We're about to start."

Yoongi drags out a chair and takes a seat. You look nice today, he notes quietly to himself. He makes sure to send a small smile your way before returning the warm greeting. "Good morning __-ssi," he says. "I told you we can speak informally didn't I?"

He waits for your response, easily tuning out the startled reactions from the rest of the team. Most high-ranking officials in the organization expected to be addressed formally by those in lower positions, but here he was, openly requesting you to speak as equals. It was almost unheard of during work hours. He was Min Yoongi, after all.

"Right, of course," you reply, "You'll have to excuse me, Yoongi-ssi. It slipped my mind for a moment."

Yoongi watches as you shuffle a few papers in your hand before continuing. "To get us started, I thought we'd discuss the decision to schedule a spot on The Tonight Show with Jimmy Fallon. Will we be proceeding with this?"

"After mauling it over I think it's a good idea for the album. Do we have an idea of when this would happen?"

"Ideally after the album releases and around the time the U.S. tour begins April 26th. I say we aim for early May. Given Fallon's show's high demand, we'll need to get a jump on this as soon as we can." You shift your attention to your digital marketing and promotions team. "So-hyun, can you reach out to the producers and see what strings we can pull?"

She nods, scribbling a quick note on her writing pad. "We'll reach out today. I'll let you know as soon as we get a response."

"Excellent, thank you. I'm glad to hear you're on board with this Yoongi-ssi. It'll be a great way to promote D-Day and attract a global audience. The more smartly we utilize our resources, the better your album will be positioned in the current market." You take a brief pause to flip through your notes again. "Speaking of resources, we'll need to start booking magazine shoots and interviews. I'm proposing we run cover pages with Marie Claire Korea and Vogue Japan."

Yoongi would be taken aback by the flood of ideas and schedules you're firing at him, all within the first fifteen minutes, if he weren't already aware of your level of competency. This is exactly why he chose you, he hums to himself, your preparedness is impressive, but not surprising.

"I presume this will take place next year?" he asks. "During their spring issues?"

"Absolutely. We'll submit inquiries soon to get the ball rolling, but having the shoots completed now would be premature. Plus, it'll take some time before there are any openings with the companies. I think we should be consistent with tour dates and have Marie Claire go out in May and Vogue ready in August of next year."

"Okay, I'm fine with all that but we'll need to have something exciting released now, don't we? I know I start my weekly lives tonight, but shouldn't there be something more we can do?"

"I agree," you reply. "That's why I wanted to propose a brand new idea that came to me a couple of nights ago while I was drafting promotional content. Anytime idols release a new album or music, it gets published on YouTube, right?"

He nods, curious on where you're heading. "Right."

"Why don't we start a talk show with you as the host Yoongi-ssi? It can allow your fans to see another side of you, as well as the general public. We can invite your BTS members as guests where you can discuss music or past challenges that you've had to overcome—the choice is yours. To make it more interesting for viewers, you can have these frank conversations over a glass of whiskey or soju."

"I like the idea," he says, weighing it in his mind. "What would the timeline look like for this?"

"If we move forward with the idea, I suggest December 5th and we continue it for a max of two months. I know that only leaves us with just under two weeks to get started, but creating the set shouldn't take more an a day or a day and a half. We can also easily shoot a 30 to 60-minute video in an afternoon and publish it on YouTube the following week. Of course, a preview of the show will need to go out beforehand."

"Would we be able to invite other guests to the show? Outside of my members, I mean."

"Yes, feel free to invite whoever you'd like. We can start with the member for the first several episodes but ultimately, welcoming a variety of guests from the same or differing industries would be the goal."

"If I may." A member of the social media team suddenly joins the discussion, "I think Kim Namjoon-nim might be a good person to feature first since Indigo releases December 2nd."

Yoongi nods in agreement. "I can ask him."

"That would be fantastic, actually. If his availability is limited, we could have him guest star for the second or third episode instead," you add. "Hoseok released Jack in the Box this summer so we could have him be the first guest as well."

"Do we have a name yet?"

"Suchwita," you answer without hesitation. "It's a play on words with Daechwita."

"Suchwita..." Yoongi repeats, "Time to get drunk." He chuckles at the last few words, amusing the room, but you remain contemplative.

"How about Suchwita...time to drink with Suga, instead? It's simple and has a slight whimsical nature."

"Sure, let's use that," he answers, noticing that you've already begun jotting down the idea. "Yours is better."

Despite the adrenaline from the productive meeting with you and your team, Yoongi still feels the weight of his sleepless nights bearing down on him. His headache remains relentless and he is in dire need of a moment to himself. Once the team disperses, he slips his phone into his pocket and makes his way outside. The crisp, early morning air should offer him some relief, along with the pack of cigarettes tucked in his pocket.

When he reaches the building's designated smoking area, Yoongi takes out a cigarette and lights it, taking a deep drag as he leans against the cool brick wall. As he exhales, watching the smoke dissipate into the clear sky, his thoughts drift back to the meeting. The idea of hosting a talk show, "Suchwita...time to drink with Suga," still lingers in his mind. It’s an intriguing concept, and he can already envision the relaxed, candid conversations that could come from it.

His thoughts are suddenly interrupted by the sound of footsteps crunching on the ground nearby.

"Oh, Yoongi-ssi," you say with alarm, obviously startled by his presence. "I didn't mean to interrupt you. I'll come back lat-"

"There's no need for that. Join me if you'd like." Yoongi watches as you hesitate to accept his offer, your feet already positioned to head back inside the building. "Seriously, there's plenty of room, and no matter what they'll tell you, I don't bite."

He allows himself to smirk as you carefully move beside him, only stopping when there is at least two feet of space between you both.

"Thanks," you say, pulling out your own pack of cigarettes and lighting one. "I needed a break too."

"Rough morning?"

"Just busy," you reply, leaning against the wall next to him. "But the meeting went well. We should be able to get the ball rolling now that we have a more finalized plan. I'm glad you liked the idea of starting Suchwita, by the way."

"I do," Yoongi says, nodding. "It has a lot of potential and I'm sure Namjoon will be more than happy to help us out. He's a natural at this kind of stuff. I guess it's why he's our band leader."

"You know you're good at all of this too, don't you, Yoongi-ssi?" You pause, taking a puff of your cigarette. "Even when you have a lot on your mind and a packed schedule, you have a knack for making people feel at ease. It's why I think producing Suchwita will be such a great way to connect with fans and other artists—you'll be the host."

He chuckles, appreciative of the remark. "You really think that? That I make people feel at ease? It's not what a lot of people assume."

"Nah," you reply, tilting your head up toward the clouds. "They're just on the outside looking in. Those who know you, who are around you and talk to you, will agree that you're a pretty calming presence."

"Well, I think we're not so different then." Yoongi shifts his eyes to your face, still looking up at the sky, and smiles softly. "So, what made you come to BigHit? Didn't you say you worked for Atlantic Records? That's a pretty good gig."

"Yeah, it was. I learned a lot there, and man, I was thrilled when I got offered the job as a brand manager. I've always loved music, ever since I was a kid. I could connect so intimately with the lyrics. Music is one of the few things that could soothe me during rough times, and it still does today. I'm sure you can understand."

Yoongi nods, intent on listening to your every word, intrigued by your story.

"Anyway, sorry about getting long-winded here" you chuckle. "I ultimately decided to move on when Bang PD reached out and offered me the marketing manager position for TXT. It gave me the chance to be a more integral part of bringing music to individuals who need it most. It's like we say, 'music for art and healing.' I'd never had the opportunity to manage a completely new set of musicians before either, let alone a group. Plus, being on the global marketing team? I couldn't turn it down."

"It makes sense why you joined us then, and I have to say, it's a blessing you did too. Music is a way of communication for me, a way I can best express my story. That includes my past, present, and hopefully future. After hearing all you shared, I don't think there's anyone else I'd trust with handling my album promos." Yoongi pauses a moment, unsure if he should ask the next thing on his mind. "How come we never met before? I mean really meet and talk?"

"Honestly, I'm not sure myself. But things have a way of falling into place when the time is right, I suppose." You're now looking at him, the intensity of your gaze mirrors his own. A gentle breeze tousles a few strands of your hair and for a split moment, Yoongi begins to understand what Taehyung meant earlier when he said it feels like he's known you his whole life, like a childhood friend he'd reconnected with. While it may not be to that extent for himself, there's a comforting warmth emanating from you that leaves him feeling strangely tranquil.

"Given the circumstances, I feel like we should have at least met through Taehyung by now," he slips out. "Or even at a company-sponsored event."

"Why, do you like me that much, Yoongi-ssi? After five days of working together?" Your playful tease catches him off guard, revealing a side of you he hadn't seen before. It's kind of cute-wait, what?

"I-"

"Sorry," you quickly interject, feeling the need to backtrack. "I shouldn't have said it like that."

"Don't worry, there's no need for apologies. And to answer your question, I like you enough." He hopes you can hear the tease in his own tone as he responds.

You both lapse into a comfortable silence for the next few minutes, the only sounds being the distant hum of traffic and the occasional chirp of a bird. He finds all of it soothing in a way he can't quite explain.

After a few minutes, you turn to him, your expression thoughtful. "You know, if you ever need to talk or just need a break, I'm here. We're teammates now."

Yoongi looks at you, his tired eyes softening with gratitude. "Thanks, __-ssi."

You give him a reassuring smile before pushing off the wall. "I'll let you finish your cigarette. See you later? And by later, I likely mean at 9 or 10 pm in our company elevator."

"Yeah, see you later," he laughs, watching as you walk back toward the building. He takes one last inhale, extinguishing the cigarette and letting the remaining smoke escape his lips slowly.

Yeah, he likes you just enough.

a/n: Hope you enjoyed it! Lmk what you think 🥰

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Masterlist | Requests: closed | Taglist | Fic Recs

no reposting, copying, or translating my work– © kookslastbutton

[shotorozu]

you like their hands

character(s) : shinsou hitoshi, kirishima eijirou, monoma neito (2/?)

legend : [Y/N = your name] they/them pronouns, quirk left unmentioned

post type : headcanons + small scenario [fluff, the mildest of spice] not even nsfw

note(s) : i was gonna put denki in this but i had a hard time thinking about what kinda hands he’d have, so i’m putting him in the next post

»»————-　♡　————-««

shinsou hitoshi

his hands are big, and his fingers are quite thick.

really likes wearing rings and bracelets, but he usually doesn’t wear them when he’s working (i’d say that bc wearing jewelry while doing physical activity HURTS)

regarding texture, his hands were initially soft— but due to transferring in the hero course, they roughened up over time

he’ll use hand cream if you want, but he doesn’t go the extra mile. and his nails are trimmed at all times. painting his nails a black color would be great once in a while.

lol i forgot to mention nails in the last post

he notices right away that you like his hands when he catches you staring at them when he’s cracking his knuckles

like.. people have said that his hands are nice, but he doesn’t really say much about them bc they’re not you

scenario

a crack sound is briefly heard in the rather silent room. the scrolling on your phone halts, and your eyes follow the sound of the crack.

ah, he’s cracking his knuckles. you think to yourself, and you’re left just simply admiring the way he applies pressure on a knuckle. who knew that his rather— large hand would look appealing, even while cracking his knuckles.

you snap out of your observation, but instead of just simply going back to whatever you were doing, you’re met with lilac eyes. “you were staring again.”

your cheeks heat up, and you opt to just turn your head to the opposite direction. “sorry,” you apologize. however— that’s not what hitoshi was looking for apparantly.

“if you like my hands alot,” he scoots next to you, hands sliding up and down your arms— his firm grip practically making the pre existing butterflies in your stomach act up again. “then you should’ve said so, kitty.”

is he conscious of his actions? hm. you could say that

he’ll purposely play with his capture tool right in front of you— the material wrapping around his hand. and he can only laugh when you immediately get absorbed into it

the back of his hand will brush against your cheek. then, when he comes in to kiss you, he’ll cup your cheek— kissing you with his other hand resting at your nape

under the table, his hand will start to slide against yours, interlocking hands with you. he’ll act like nothing is happening, but on the inside— he’s taking in your reaction

a little spicy, but when he wants you to look at him— he’ll do that thing where his thumb brushed against your bottom lip, as it almost dips right into your mouth

if he feels a little extra, his hand will also be tugging on your hair (if you’re fine with that. otherwise, he’s sticking to the one above)

oh and he also does that thing where he rests his hand on your neck, thick fingers squeezing your throat lightly.

overall— THIS MAN omg, he’ll entertain your interest in his hand nicely, just for you. and every single thing he does is memorable

kirishima eijirou

his hands are quite normal regarding size, they are almost always veiny, a lot more than bakugou’s actually. i think at some point he was concerned about them

his hands are rather flushed in color, but that’s because of his quirk. his fingers have a few tiny scars here and there,

he occasionally has pen marks on his wrists due to bad penmanship, and his nails.. don’t look the best, but they’re not the worst it’s bc of his quirk

the palms of his hands are ridden with callouses. but he wears them with pride because it’s the pure evidence of his hard work with his training.

but he starts to get worried about them when he goes to hold your hand.

you always had a thing for kirishima’s hands, but you just never had the chance to tell him that. i guess asking you did it for him

scenario

did you even realize how hard you were staring at his hands right now? it happened every single time he enlaced his arms around you, his hands resting at the sides of your arms

at first, he thought it might’ve been because his hands are too rough, or you might’ve been in discomfort— because maybe, just maybe, he accidentally activated his quirk?

the fact that he can’t exactly tell what it is worried him, maybe he should just ask you.

but his worry washed off when you told him upfront that you ‘liked his hands’

“wait so.. you’re staring at my hands because you like them?” kirishima wants to confirm your words, and— so casually, by the way— nod in agreement.

tracing the veins on his hands, you elaborate “your hands are really nice, i can tell how hard you must’ve worked.” pressing your smaller hand against his, you smile.

eijirou takes a moment to process it, but it’s surprisingly quick. “oh t-thanks!” he sheepishly took the compliment, a small blush sporting on his cheeks. “i’m glad it wasn’t because you thought they were weird.”

kirishima unintentionally feeds your interest with his hands. like sometimes.. he’s just not aware of it, but yes— he is feeding your interest well

will always make you compare hand sizes with him, chuckling softly at the dazed look on your face when your palms touch

if you allow him, he’ll fix your hair for you. doesn’t matter what hair type you have, he’ll do LOTS of research to know how to style it

those hands are magical

if you get a papercut, or a wound from cooking— he’ll patch you up, then he’ll press a kiss on the bandaid.

he’ll do this thing where he’ll squeeze your sides when you pull in for a hug. but if you’re not okay with that, he’ll opt to just rubbing your back with his hand— rocking you softly as he hugs you

a little spicy, but his hands do wander a lot. you might need to even hold them in place to make sure they don’t go too wild

in addition to that, he’ll just SLIGHTLY, activate his quirk to make sure you’re conscious of his touch. his finger tips gliding against your back, sending shivers down your spine.

but of course, he’s careful. he doesn’t activate it to the point it causes scratch marks, nor will his actions draw blood. he doesn’t wanna do that

in short— kirishima’s a little clueless at first. he wouldn’t really tease you in public, but he’s surprisingly attentive to your interest.

monoma neito

his hands are on the tipping edge of slightly above average. he doesn’t have a lot of veins on his hands, but they do pop out depending on what quirk he’s using

monoma’s hands are pretty spotless of any scars (from cuts, abrasions, etc.) because he gets REALLY annoyed with wounds pretty easily

to the point he’d want to attend to the wound immediately, he doesn’t let them sit— it’s just a personal preference

his nails are at the perfect length. not too long and not too short to the point it hurts, you don’t know how he does it.

wears watches on his wrists, and not the digital type— he sorta acts like he can read it easily, but it takes him a few seconds to even get to know the time

you know this because kendo snitched on him and told you LOL

you secretly hate yourself for this, but you really like his hands because of how he takes care of them. you’d never tell monoma even though you’re dating him

scenario

you’re unsure of yourself on how your boyfriend— monoma, found out about your fascination with his hands. it was supposed to be a secret for the rest of your life, and you only remember talking about it once out loud

which you assumed was a close call, considering that you thought he didn’t hear it at all— but he did.

“so i heard you like my hands, huh Y/N?” monoma’s teasing tone does not aid the situation. your cheeks heat up with embarassment, and you can’t get yourself to answer his question— without sounding like a fool anyway.

you fake annoyance, “where’d that come from?” you ask, and monoma doesn’t seem to want to switch the topic

“i’m asking you a question, dear Y/N— i heard you like my hands,” his tone would’ve sounded condescending to any other person, but you can tell that he’s either genuinely curious

or just teasing you, because that’s how he is.

to aid his question, he brushes his fingers along your neck— near your pulse. you jolt, stunned by the sudden action— heart beating rapidly against your chest.

“see,” monoma presses his hand against your chest, where your heart is palpitating, grinning in a way that’s teasing you “it’s true, isn’t it? sweet Y/N has a thing for my hands, hm?”

you furrow your eyebrows, and flick his forehead— and he hisses in reaction, “fine then, i do like your hands.” you finally give in, admitting final defeat.

ever since then, you haven’t heard the end of it

definitely that person that’ll just randomly bring it up to you, no matter what hour of the day it is.

“oh Y/N, you were totally fawning over my hands earlier—”

“i will castrate you.”

you know he means well most of the time, but sometimes he just loves teasing the heck out of you.

but that doesn’t mean he neglects your obvious interest in his hands.

he’ll compliment you, he’s a snarky person in general— but to you, he’s totally smooth with it.

slides his hand from your forearm to your hands, only to bring them up to his lips, pressing a kiss against your hand

squeezes your hand everytime he sees you, it’s kind of a nonverbal greeting at this point

similar to kirishima, he likes comparing hand sizes— teasing you about the size difference (even if it’s not even a big of a difference, he’ll take that chance.)

does this thing where he rubs his thumb against his palm. does it a lot when he’s concentrated about something, or just out of the blue

a little spicy, but he’ll make you tell him what you like about his hands, and what you like about the things he does with those hands of his. if that makes sense

he wants all of the details, doesn’t care if it’s mundane, or things he does when he’s feeling a certain way.

he wants to know, because as soon as you’re done with your spewl, he’ll do exactly what you like, teasing you while he’s at it. and so he can start incorporating those habits whenever he’s around you.

totally someone that’ll make you suck on those fingers. oh, but he’ll purposely get some dessert on them— asking you to suck them off

“good grief, i got some dessert on my fingers again. Y/N, come suck them off”

sometimes he’s serious, sometimes he’s just teasing.

overall— it’s pretty adventurous. he starts to act on it as soon as the revelation is revealed to him.

but i’d say he does just fine.

»»————-　♡　————-««

likes and reblogs are appreciated, thanks for reading!

i do not own bnha/mha and it’s characters. boku no hero academia/my hero academia belongs to horikoshi kohei. i only own the writing, and i do not profit off of my hobby

do not plagiarize, translate, repost, or use my work for audio readings without my consent :))

[explosivenebula]

hihi! can I request how bakugo, todoroki and midoriya would react if their s/o was killed by a villain? sorry if it's too angsty you can totally ignore this lol! also I love love looovee your blog btw

Of course, omg! I love this idea, and don’t worry, writing angst is one of my strong suits! I didn’t have time for Midoriya, I’m so sorry! I’m working to do one for him very soon though, so don’t worry! Hope you enjoy this post! Thank you for requesting. 

MASTERLIST

‘Killed by a Villain’ Bakugou and Todoroki x reader SCENARIO {GENDER NEUTRAL} {HEAVY ANGST} 

PAIRINGS: Bakugou x reader, Todoroki x reader

WARNINGS: Heavy angst, graphic descriptions of injuries, mentions of blood, death, swearing

NOTE: Each scenario for each character is different and varies in villains and quirks. If you are sensitive to anything listed in the WARNINGS category above, please do not read!

Y/N: your name

If you’d like to request a similar headcanon or something entirely different with the same or different MHA/BNHA characters, feel free do to so! Note: Most of my work will be a gender-neutral reader/perspective unless you specifically request something different. You may also request a headcanon for any size, ethnicity, religion etc of person, everything here is welcome! (As long as it is not offensive, and follows the guidelines.)

🌸Explosive Nebula 爆発性星雲🌸

- 07.02.2021 -

BAKUGOU KATSUKI

It started as any normal day, or, as normal as a day with Bakugou Katsuki could get. Amidst the constant yelling and gruff groaning echoing from his office, the headquarters were bustling and working as usual. Sidekicks of the Ground Zero agency. The only change was the absence of a particularly bubbly voice, and the constant chatter of Sero’s never ending teasing, masked by a heavy, thick nervousness blanketing the five friends. Bakugou, Mina, Kirishima, Kaminari and - to Bakugou’s annoyance - Midoriya. 

The had been a recent fluctuation of villains in the district, and following a series of distressed calls from HPSC representatives, you and Sero were released into the public to take down what could only be described as one of the biggest hero syndicates yet. It was a dangerous job, but everyone had faith in Japan’s heroes. 

But as time ticked by all to agonizingly slowly, Bakugou was beginning to grow impatient. There was a nervousness that hung over everyone, Midoriya’s anxiety causing his hands to shake softly. But the small action went unnoticed, and even if it was seen by one of the five heroes sitting in the conference room, he wouldn’t be blamed. Instead, all pairs of eyes were watching the large monitor that hung on the otherwise blank wall. The channel was flipped to secure, live feed, half of the screen displaying Sero’s bodycam while the other displayed yours, a smaller screen below that showing security cams from the city square you were currently fighting in.

The entire area was covered in debris, smoke, dirt and whatever else had been sent into the air during the ‘fight’. Could they even call it that? It was more like an ambush, a horribly crafted series of events swaying in the side of the villains, a trap to draw you and Sero in. But, you and the niorette were some of the best heroes, so you had managed to sway things to an even level, already having worked together to take down 60% of the villain group. 

The problem was, no one in the conference room wanted to admit that things were going badly. If someone even whispered a word of you potentially failing, Bakugou would explode, shutting the up immediately. But even the ash blonde realized something as he watched the horrific events unfold. There was no chance at failure. You either won, or you died. 

The group watched on through the bodycams, each line spoken and image fed through 

making everyone’s stomach churn.

--------

Sero turned towards you, his voice rushed and hurried as he stumbled his way over the upturned pillars from nearby collapsed buildings. “S-sero?” You’re voice churned out, cracked and dry as you pushed down the struggle to cough up dried blood. 

“Yeah, I’m here. Shit! Hey, hey...” He dropped to his knees, looking up and groaning at the searing pain in his side. he world was spinning around him, every noise and light refracted in his brain pulsating a headache, a new spark of agony. “W-watch it!” 

But it was too late, the falling rod previously stuck in the wall spun and fell from the villains hands, churning it’s way towards your figure and driving t’s way into your already torn and ripped stomach. A gusty scream left your lips, trickling like venom and evaporating in the harshly stinging wind. 

The pole pierced through your body, quickly becoming stained with your own thick, crimson red blood. The metallic smell soon filled the air, mixed with the burning of the villains bodies, the earthq2uake that had rippled through from the leader’s quirk not only causing havoc on the mission, but inevitably sliding his comrades bodies into the thick line of flames. 

“No!” Sero cried, tears running from his swollen and red eyes as h pushed his body to move, move as fast as he could to crawl towards you. “No no no...” He watched as you shuddered, the numbness in your body just enough to make the slowly slipped consciousness seem almost blissful. “Y/N! Wake the fuck up...come on!”

You shook, tears spilling down your dust coated cheeks. “S-sero please.” He shook his head, bottom limp fluttering with each whimper. “Please what? y/n?” You mumbled, fumbling with your utility belt, and pulling out a cracked phone, that had, somehow, survived. “Bakugou...please.”

He understood almost immediately, opening your phone and scrolling through your contacts to find your fiancé’s number. With shaky and hesitant fingers he pressed on the contact, his ears filled with the ringtone of your phone. 

--------

His phone vibrated in his pocket, causing everyone to jump, their faces soaked with tears. They could hear the talking, but majority of it had been intercepted, and the cameras were covered in dirt. No one in the conference 

Bakugou was quick to pull it out, nearly doubling over in a new set of sobs when he saw your name. He had never answered a call sooner, switching it to speaker and placing it on the table. Mina and Kirishima held each other close, listening on while Kaminari and Midoriya crossed their arms, their lips pressed tightly into a thin line. 

“Sweetheart?” He could hear the content sigh from the other side of the line, telling him you had wanted nothing more than to hear his voice. “Katsuki...oh my god.” He sobbed, immediately noticing the way your throat gargled. He tried not to think about it, but he new blood was quickly pooling in your throat. 

“Baby, listen to me, you need to stay awake, alright? The medics are almost there, please...” You interrupted him, your voice beginning to shake. “I love you, katsuki. T-ake care of everyo-ne for me, a-alright?”

“No, don’t say that, not now, not ever. Baby please. Princess, I love you so much. Please, I’m begging you.” Midoriya closed his eyes, taking a shaky and heavy hearted breath. He knew it was hopeless, the cams had cracked to life, and things looked worse than they sounded. He couldn't bear his childhood friend’s begging, but he wouldn’t stop him. How could he?

“You know that damn fucking ring on your finger, right? That’s my promise, my damn promise to marry you. I’ll stay with you for the rest of my fucking life, we’ll have a family, get a pet. Anything you want, anything...please.” 

“I k-know, I’m sorry.” You began to speak one more time, your voice pleading, asking him to stop trying to save you, and accept what you were saying. “Katsuki? You’ll become t-the number...one hero, I know you will...I love you, so mu-”

the phone slipped from his scorched hands as the line went deadly silent. The call was still active, he could still make out the blurred picture of your grinning face on the screen through eyes blanketed in tears. And yet, not a singe word crackled through, no heartbeat was heard, and no shaky breaths that assured him you were still alive. “FUCK! Fuck...I’ll kill them....I’ll fucking kill them!”

A piercing scream left his throat, blocking out his senses and causing his knees to buckle beneath him. Had you really just died? He couldn’t do anything, even if he wanted to. No matter how hard he tried, his body was shaking too much to move. He felt his chest tighten. He couldn't breath. He couldn’t think. His mind was filled with plaguing thoughts as he begun to grip his hair. They’re still alive, they’re still alive, they’re still-

Midoriya tackled him in a tight hug, burying his head into the blonde’s chest to cover his own sobs. Kirishima moved to place a hand on his shoulder, trying in a desperate attempt to drag Kaminari and Mina’s attention away from the horrible scene displayed on the screen. 

But no matter his efforts, they couldn't bring themselves to drag their eyes away, watching as your lifeless body was pulled away and hugged close by a distraught Sero, the male only focused on whispering one thing into your hair as he heard the screams of your mortified boyfriend pull through the phone. 

“I’m sorry Bakugou, I’m so sorry. I tried to protect them, I promise I did. I’m sorry, please, please forgive me. Oh god, y/n, why? I’m sorry, please...I’m sorry.”

TODOROKI SHOTO

How could he let tis happen? He was supposed to protect you, be there for you, let you depend on him. You relied on him to protect you, to be there for you whenever and wherever you needed him. So then why had he not been there, not been there when you needed him the most?

He watched you leave the house that morning, bag in hand and coat thrown lazily across your shoulders as you slipped on winter boots. He watched you pull and umbrella from the stand, and flash him a soft smile before explaining you were leaving to get lunch with Ochaco, and discuss arrangements for her hero agency. You weren’t a pro hero, but your technical skills had landed you in an extremely high paying spot in Midoriya’s agency, studying previous battles and relaying any live information to him and his sidekicks during missions. 

Being the s/o of Todoroki meant he was often cautious about taking you anywhere with him. He had made himself a target through simply being a strong recognised hero, so he often spent time making sure you knew exactly what to do in an emergency. He was confident you had the knowledge to escape any situation, and he hadn’t passed up the chance to teach you a few basic, yet powerful, self defense moves.  

He regretted is decision to let you go so easily this morning. It hadn’t struck him anything would happen, he was so calm about it. All he had done was whisper a soft “Be safe, I love you”, and kiss your forehead before letting you go. 

But now, as he frantically tried to call your phone for the third time to no avail, he realised how much of a stupid decision it was. He should have come with you, like he always did. You convinced him last night to let you go alone, that he needed to stop worrying s much, He had agreed, way to easily. He realised Ururaka was with you, but he knew her priorities wouldn’t e to protect you from the villain that had jut began attacking the area you were stuck in now. Other heroes were still on their way, it was just her and a few weaker patrol heroes keeping things stable before other heroes could get there. Todoroki was one that had been called, but he had left minutes ago. All he could think about was saving you. 

He was so close, fingertips away from the road that your location had last been updated to. He made sure you carried one everywhere, you had to anyway considering the place in which you worked. You were a walking target for many reasons, and he had let you slip from his fingers so easily. 

He heaved to catch his breath as he finally managed to make it, his view clouded by the flames raging and plaguing the pavements. The street was lit up with screams and bodies, all seemed fresh by only a few minutes. He knew there were 9 casualties, but none of them had been identified. He could only pray you were safe. 

Ururaka was a mere few blocks down, her hero costume semi-torn, and scratches lacing her arms. Anyone else would assume she was on deaths door. But the half and half male knew she was holding up, she had more than enough stamina for him to take a few moments to look for you, a few moments o assure himself you were alive. 

Todoroki swallowed harshly, feeling the saliva run dry. Hs first motions pushed him towards the burning café, pushing aside wooden platforms. If you were anywhere, would be here. He had drilled into you to stay exactly where you were if anything happened, unless you needed to run. From the looks of it, it was still a decent place to bunker down. Hopefully, it was a good sign. 

“Y/N?” Despite only being in the building for a few moments, he could already feel the smoke seeping in through his mouth and burning at his lungs. He felt hi movements grow sluggish. There was something different about this smoke, not just it’s toxic properties, but something that seemed to drain his energy by the second. Was this the villains quirk? He didn’t know, he didn’t care. He wanted only you.

And it wasn’t until he heard a quiet and broken “Shoto” that he begun to grow, putting every ounce of power he had into his body to surge forward behind the café counter in search of the source of the noise. He could recognize that voice anywhere, he knew it was you. And when he turned the corner, a pang of relief brushed through him. You were alive. But that was quickly replaced with the stinging fact he thought of as he rushed forward, dropping by your side and watching as blood poured from a life threatening wound on your chest. You didn’t have long left. 

“Baby! Hey, darling, I’m right here...I’m right here for you. Shh, I know, I’m here.” You let out a gentle whimper, your eyes fluttering as you felt consciousness begin to slip. How could everything turn on it’s heels so quickly. Why? Why had this happened to you? You didn’t deserve this, you loved Shoto too much, You needed him, why did you feel this way?

“I-it hu-rts” Tears ran down your boyfriends face, not shying away from the flames licking at his back. He held you all the closer, refusing to let go. It was obvious you didn’t have long, all he could do was hope help arrived soon. They should be here any moment, you just had to stay alive a little longer. 

“I know I know, come on, god...baby, please, keep your eyes open.” He begged, pleading with you. His hands hopelessly found yours and intertwined his fingers, kissing your temple gently as you lay against his chest, eyes fluttering. 

“Shoto...I can’t...I love you.” He growled, finding himself sparking with anger. Who had done this to you? How had he let this happen, he would kill anyone who got in his way. Bakugou and Kirishima were seconds away, they would take down the villain, help Ururaka. But he knew the medics would be late. They were always delayed, probably caught up with the casualties thrown in plain sight. They wouldn’t find you, and he wasn’t about to leave to find help. 

“No, don’t you say that, love. I love you so much, so so much. Stay awake...” He furrowed his brows, letting his head fall back. “Remember how I said one day we would get married? Well we will, I’ll do it tomorrow. I’ll get you the prettiest ring, and we’ll have the most beautiful wedding. I’ll get you whatever you want just stay awake. Please, don’t leave me. Okay?”

He waited a few moments. Silence. He waited a little longer, hoping you were just finding the right words to say, as you usually did. Silence. He was only met with silence. “Baby?” 

He shrugged softly, dropping your arm from around his neck and moving where he could see your face. Your eyes were closed, but your mouth was open. Shockwaves sent themselves sprawling through his body as he widened his eyes, moving to check your breathing. Nothing. 

That was it, you were gone. 

“No, no no no. Baby? Baby? Please don’t do this to me, please don’t do this.” He let out a loud sob, words not being able to form themselves on his burnt tongue. The broken male held you closer than ever, wrapping his arms protectively around your lifeless body and burying his ace in your hair, inhaling you’re beautiful scent. 

He refused to believe that you were gone, refused to let go. Why? Why had this happened to him of all people? He was so good to you, to everyone. He did everything he could. Was he no a good hero? Was he a horrible boyfriend? He raised his head to the ceiling, tears coating his face. He sat in silence, earing the nearby sirens of ambulances and the harsh, broken voices of Bakugou and Kirishima consoling a seriously injured Ururaka. 

It wasn’t long before the building doors were pushed open and and another female walked through, your broken boyfriend identifying the figure as Jirou. The second she saw him curled in the corner she froze, eyeing the situation in front of her and bringing a hand to cover her mouth, tears threatening to sprawl from her eyes. 

Todoroki stared at her, holding you all the more closer as he shook his head frantically, watching a horrified and scarily silent Bakugou walk up behind her, his eyes casting themselves down to the floor to avoid seeing his broken face. Shoto shook, words finally leaving his cracked lips. 

“Please don’t...please don’t take them from me. Please....no....”

If you’d like to request a similar headcanon or something entirely different with the same or different MHA/BNHA characters, feel free do to so! Note: Most of my work will be a gender-neutral reader/perspective unless you specifically request something different. You may also request a headcanon for any size, ethnicity, religion etc of person, everything here is welcome! (As long as it is not offensive, and follows the guidelines.)

🌸Explosive Nebula 爆発性星雲🌸

Posted 07.02.2021

Written and Published by: explosivenebula

[sandibullock]

I was wondering if you could do a tutorial on this gifset that you did i really like ittt

Thank you for sending this in, anon! I’m glad you liked it and wondered how it was made :) Fun fact: the day before you sent this, I had just started working on my next set in that “Select Filmography” series. I hope you like that one too when it’s ready!

I think I should start by saying I’m pretty new to giffing myself and there might be more efficient ways of getting to the same result. However, the point here is to show you the process I went through to make this gifset and hopefully help you understand how to make a similar one.

To follow this tutorial, you will need some version of Photoshop and some giffing knowledge. I know there are multiple ways of making gifs so I’m just letting you know I’m using the timeline and the “Convert for Smart Filters” option (I don’t really know how else to call it).

Now let’s get started!

STEP 1 - CHOOSE THE SCENES

It might sound obvious but, in my opinion, this is the most crucial step. It’s also the one that takes the longest (along with step 7, aka the coloring).

At this stage, you need to have a general idea on how you want your set to look like so you can choose the scenes accordingly. In my case, I knew I needed two types of shots for each movie: one close-up for the main gif and one mid shot for the shape. I also needed to take two other criteria into consideration: the movement (because of the shape) and the lighting (because darker scenes are such a pain to color). Last but not least, I didn’t want the characters to be talking (but that’s just a personal preference).

With all of that in mind, you can start saving a few screenshots of scenes that meet your criteria (or at least some of them). In the end, there won’t be that many to choose from so be prepared to make compromises.

STEP 2 - MAKE A DRAFT

Now that you’ve preselected a few scenes, you can make a first draft. This will help you turn your general idea into something more concrete.

Basically, this is your opportunity to organize your thoughts. What size do you want your gifs to be? What shape are you going to use? On which side do you want the close-ups to be? Do you want all of them to be on the same side or do you want to alternate from one gif to the other? Do the scenes you chose work together (gif-wise but also set-wise)? Are you happy with the way it looks, overall?

By answering all of the questions you might have now, you’ll save yourself a lot of time, trust me. Of course, you can totally skip this step if you already know exactly which scenes you’re going to use and how you’re going to present them together.

To give you an idea, this is what my draft looked like for Atomic Blonde.

STEP 3 - PREPARE YOUR GIFS

Once you have a clearer view on how you want your set to look like, you can finally start giffing like you usually would (i.e. importing, cropping, resizing, etc.).

It should then look something like this.

The important thing to mention here is that you want both of your gifs to be the same number of frames (32, in my case).

Ideally, you should also aim for the ~same~ coloring (especially for the skin tone, since both gifs will be so close to each other). This bit is particularly difficult when you chose scenes which have opposite lighting (see my two uncolored gifs below). Remember how I insisted on steps 1 and 2? It was to help you avoid this. So my advice would be not to choose these types of contrasted scenes, unless you can’t do otherwise and you’re ready to suffer!

STEP 4 - MAKE YOUR SHAPE

To make your shape, you can click right on the Shape Tool (U) and select the last one, Custom Shape Tool. From the Shape menu appearing on top, you will be able to choose the shape you want from the drop down list and start drawing on your gif.

To be more precise with the dimensions, you can manually adapt the length and height from the Shape menu itself. I decided to go with the same ones as my gif.

Once your shape is positioned like you want it to be, you can drag and drop the shape layer under your gif. Next, you will have to click right on the gif layer/smart filter and select Create Clipping Mask. The result is as below. Note that if the size of your shape was smaller than your gif, you would still be able to reposition your gif with the Move Tool (V).

You can now export your shape gif, reopen it in Photoshop and convert it again to the video timeline and to a smart filter. This is where I’m not sure it’s the most efficient way of doing things but it’s the only way I found to keep the coloring of each gif separate. I also find it easier to work with a smart filter.

STEP 5 - COMBINE YOUR GIFS

To add your shape gif to your main gif, you can simply click right on the shape gif you just reopened and select Duplicate Layer. You can then choose the project which contains your main gif to duplicate it in there. Now go to your main gif and reposition your shape gif where you want it to be (how many times did I say gif here?). Finally, you can draw a new shape, using the same dimensions as in step 4, reposition it and choose any color you want from the Shape menu.

Since you will be repeating this process with your following gifs, I suggest you add a few guides so you know exactly where you should place everything to make all of your final gifs look the same.

(In case you’re wondering, the “Base” folder contains my adjustment layers/basic coloring for the main gif.)

STEP 6 - ADD THE TITLE

This step is pretty simple: go on the web and type “[name of the movie] title”. Download the png you like most, open it in Photoshop and resize it to a length of about 150-200 pixels. Next, duplicate the layer to your main gif and reposition it. In case you need to resize it again, select the title layer and go to Edit > Free Transform (Ctrl+T).

This is optional but in case you want to change the way it looks, know you can always duplicate the title layer and play with the blending options (see below). The good thing with a png is that you can also add some effects by clicking on the “fx” button.

STEP 7 - ADD COLORING (OPTIONAL)

To be honest, I had not planned on coloring my gifs. But I had already spent so much time on them and I was still unhappy with the way they looked. I mean, see how grey-ish they are? Not great...

So the only thing left for me to do was to add some colors. Now, since coloring is worth a tutorial on its own and it already exists, I suggest you read through becca’s mega coloring tutorial (and especially steps 3 & 5). Seriously, shoutout to her for making this incredibly useful tutorial. She is so talented and I love everything she makes!

My Atomic Blonde gif barely even needed coloring so I’ll show you what I did for my Tully and The Old Guard gifs.

For the first one, once I had found which colors to use with which blending option and opacity level, I only had to remove the colors from the left side of the gif because there was barely any movement in that scene (phew!). For the second one, on the other hand, I decided to color frame by frame because there was way more movement, in comparison. This is quite a tedious process, which is why you want to limit yourself to a certain amount of frames.

I’ll conclude by saying there are so many things you can do with coloring and what works with one scene might not work with another. So experiment with it: try different colors, play with the blending options and opacity levels, add some gradients and/or gradient maps, etc. Just know it will take some time to get to a somewhat satisfying result!

And that’s it... I hope this tutorial made sense and was somehow helpful. Of course, don’t hesitate if you have any questions! Also, if you do end up making a similar edit, pleeease send me the link or tag me in the replies or something ‘cause I would definitely love to see it!!

[angelkurenai]

Subtext - Sebastian Stan x Reader

Title: Subtext

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x Reader

Warnings: None

Prompt: Hii, could you do a Sebastian imagine where you're his costar and he has a crush on you, and you're doing a interview together and the interviewer is being very flirty and checking you out and you're oblivious to it.

“You look at some of those suits and wonder: How did they even get in them in the first place? Because it's so intricate, it makes me wonder. About the actors and actresses I mean.” the interviewer added, his eyes mostly on you, but his words going out for the both of you.

“Superheroes have it so much easier all the time.” you said with a sigh “It's such a struggle to get in those suits, not to mention get the makeup on and whatnot.”

“For some it takes up to five hours for the makeup, like Karen, and I remember hearing someone once had an issue on set with the suit while we were filming Civil War and they-” Sebastian paused in thought “Yes, it took about half an hour to get on their suit. Which, by the way, is no easy thing to keep on in the scorching heat of- of the location we were filming in.”

“Oh my gosh, that day-- I still remember. A nightmare. But-” you said, your eyes mostly on Sebastian before you met the interviewer's eyes again “See? And then people wonder why I'm such a fan of the Phoenix force. Like, that thing enters your body and gives you a different outfit without the trouble of having to chance or be careful for your makeup and hair! And it has plenty of different outfits. The moment I saw that I was like: sold! Get me one, where can I get me one?”

Sebastian laughed next to you, shaking his head “I mean she's got a point. Personally speaking, though, I can't say I have to complain. I mostly wear normal clothes and a glove that covers my supposed metal arm. And even when I do have to wear the arm itself it's just the easiest. So yeah, my suit is just that and I certainly have the fastest dress up on set. Plus it's not as uncomfortable as most.”

“A lucky asshole is what he is.” you teased, trying to say with as much seriousness as you could master at that moment before breaking it with a laugh, focusing back on the question “Personally speaking, it is rather time consuming to get into my suit. But given that we've managed to keep it on two pieces I usually wear the upper part with like a pair of shorts and only when I have to film I wear the lower part. It's only then that it gets a bit uncomfortable, but again it's not for like the entire time I'm on set so it's good. Even though the look itself is... tragic, to say the least. I'm still comfy so that's what I care about though.”

“Shorts?” the interviewer's eyebrows shot up in surprise as his eyes did a once over of your body which only made you giggle “I've seen photos and let me tell you, they were far from tragic. You always look amazing, but- Along with half of the suit? Well, that's what I call one heck of a look!”

“Well, it's a lot sillier than it sounds.” you admitted with a laugh, completely oblivious to the way Sebastian's eyes narrowed “Because Scarlett had gotten me those shorts as a gift and they have tiny (Y/S/N) signs in them that earn laughter from my friends when it's topped with the top half of my suit.”

“I assure you I would most certainly not laugh.” the man in front of you said in all honesty “Not at such a sight, believe me. I would be more, like, thanking my lucky stars for being that blessed.”

But despite all the honesty, or maybe because of it too, the way the man look at you was unmistakable. Just as unmistakable as the feeling rising in Sebastian's chest. He clenched his jaw and tried to bite back any words that could so easily pour, especially if the man kept it up, and he knew it would lead to no good. Not being he was technically working but because it wasn't really his place. You were friends, granted the closest of friends and he knew and admitted it (at least to himself) that he had stronger feelings for you but that didn't necessarily mean it went both ways and he couldn't risk what you already had for it. And that itched him more, it frustrated him more and it annoyed him more, more than anything else.

He was annoyed and not just with the interviewer but with himself as well. It was this annoying feeling of wanting to do something when other men looked at you this way, when they were being too friendly and too flirty, an annoying feeling that put him on edge and ready to do something, anything, to make it stop -jealousy Chris had called it with a knowing smile -and each time his mind provided him with the word he tried to deny it as much as he had done that day to Chris. But for how much longer?

His patience, will and all-around strength was seriously tested and he had to clench his fists along with his jaw to hold himself back.

“Aw thank you, you're too sweet to me-” you insisted too oblivious to everything that was happening, unlike Sebastian next to you who highly doubted he was being only sweet to you “But I can take the hard truth: It was silly to say the least. Though, if I am completely honest, my character has had plenty of different suits and variations of the main suit and yet none of those were nearly as good as the shorts Scarlett got me. I also have an over-sized T-shirt that goes with them and there are times I seriously consider turning that into my suit for a movie. Let's add matching socks and boom, best superhero costume ever!” you laughed and Sebastian only forced a chuckle as he noticed the raised eyebrow and look of interest the other man in the chair gave you “Not that I am sure if there is even a single person that would like to see that to be honest.”

“Oh trust me, I gladly volunteer! And I'll be the first one to buy a ticket to that movie!” the man smiled, a smile that could easily be considered one of his most charming ones, no wonder one of those smiles that he used on women at bars that would have them falling or him in seconds if they weren't as oblivious as you at the moment and accompanied by a sulking- no, scratch that, by a glaring and broody man that is. And he went on “Not as if I'm not already one of the first people to get tickets to your every movie anyway.”

“Oh my gosh, stop- I can feel my face heating up!” you grinned, and Sebastian recognized it as one of the most genuine and heartfelt ones you reserved for the people you wanted closer to you “I am seriously doubting you'd want to see it, though, or anyone else. I think the fancy suits are a great factor in drawing in crowds, you know?”

“But I mean, so is good acting, right? And you're undoubtedly one of the best if not the best actress of our era, and I dare anyone to fight me on that cause I and the Oscars got all the facts on this.” and after the easy smile came the really flirty one that was hard to miss, at least to Sebastian; who only shifted in his chair and took a deep breath to calm down and listen the rest of it cause there was more “Plus, I don't know about others, but I love a woman in baggie clothes, in tight clothes or with no clothes at all. Honestly anything that makes her comfortable. However she feels beautiful is what matters. It's not my business what she does with her body too, you know?”

“A catchy line with a lot of subtext, of course he would.” Sebastian thought bitterly.

“Wow I might have a terrible memory but I don't think a man has ever told me that?” you gasped your smile getting bigger “What have you been all this time? I gotta have my friends meet you!”

“Oh just here and totally ready for grabs if you're interested!” he spread his arms wide and grinned, easily earning another laugh from you, before he let them drop and added “Though, to answer your question, you probably haven't been looking in the right place.” the man laughed, again a warm and charming chuckle, that Sebastian didn't doubt could have many women falling for him yet fearing at the same time that you'd be one of them.

The thought, as small and quick as it might have been, when it flashed through his mind, it was greatly disturbing for his entire nerve system. He felt the unpleasant shivers as his back straightened and his muscles tightened. His breathing stuttered as it came out of his lips and he could swear he felt his heart do a scary leap to his throat.

“Sorry, on her part, for not paying attention. Since (Y/n) can't come up with an answer now, I'll speak on her behalf.” Sebastian said with what he hoped looked like a small easy smile and it probably worked because you chuckled.

But before you could open your lips to speak, he beat you at it and this time every hint of a smile had vanished “We were under the impression that this was a professional interview.” he heard a small sharp intake from next to him but he ignored it “Maybe we should have checked before we came in here. Do you do this with every actress that walks in here by the way? Wonder how's that working out for you so far.”

“Seb” you muttered, but once more he ignored you.

“Must suck that I'm still the one she'll be walking out of here with and spending the rest of the day and you'll be left daydreaming about how her bed looks like. I don't need to.” he shrugged “But hey, I can always give you a tip of two for the next one that walks in, how about that?”

“Oh my- How many more minutes are there to this interview again?”

[tooweirdforyou]

love your writing! could you maybe do some hc's for luffy, zoro and sanji with them having a shy plus size/chubby s/o (not poly, sperate hc's.) it's totally fine if you're not up for writing a plus size reader. <3

Monster Trio With A Plus Size! S/O

A/N : thank you ☺️ thank you for requesting. As a plus size myself, I am more than happy to write these, so don’t hesitate to request more with different scenarios too. :D 🤍

Summary : the monster trio with a chubby, shy and insecure significant other.

-

Luffy

Luffy would be the one who doesn’t care the most of what you look like. He loves people of all sizes. As long as you have a sweet personality and like to laugh, Luffy will appreciate and love the hell out of you.

Luffy thinks it’s cute when you’re shy around him, but it does bother him when you’re too insecure about yourself. Honestly, how could you be so down on yourself like this? He loves you, it didn’t matter your appearance, if you were big, small, tall, skinny, or had any weird marks or disabilities, who cares?

In fact, Luffy would adore your size. He loves to cuddle so it’s only great if there’s more of you for him to hug and snuggle against while you two sleep. His arms would wrap tightly around you and keep you close.

Luffy cares deeply for his crewmates, so when he learns that someone is hurting you, he won’t hold back his fists. He’ll become enraged and punches anyone who dares to insult his nakama.

When he sees you’re feeling particularly really insecure and shy, he’ll do his best to cheer you up by making you laugh. He’ll do stupid stuff with Usopp and try to excite and distract you by getting your attention while he’s fishing.

If he sees you’re not eating, he’ll have Sanji whip up a whole feast and sits in front of you and makes you eat with him. He’ll make sure to give you some of his meat to ensure you’re eating. He wants you healthy after all.

If you’re really upset about your size and thinking about change, being with Luffy would help with that in all honesty. This man loves adventure, but he’s also always getting in trouble. You’ll be running a lot when you’re around him so it helps. And if you’re slow, Luffy doesn’t hesitate to grab you and carry you as you all run from Marines.

Luffy would show you off in public for sure, he’ll always grab your hand and yelling throughout new islands you explore, drawing attention towards you both from the citizens. He’ll be shouting for you to look and pulling you closer with a big grin on his face.

“Why do you care what you look like? I don’t. I love you for you and that’s all that matters, right? So smile already!”

-

Zoro

Zoro would also not care as much of your appearance. He likes someone who’s strong and even better if you can handle a sword. Appearance doesn’t matter in this case.

When you’re shy around him and all fidgety, Zoro is pretty confused and stares at you, wondering if you’re okay. He doesn’t quite understand why you’re acting this way, since he’s not someone who cares what other people thinks.

So when he finds out you’re feeling insecure, he’s a bit shocked before he gets annoyed and angry. Not at you, but towards the people that made you feel that way. Who the hell dares to hurt you?

Zoro wouldn’t show it, but it secretly breaks his heart a bit to see how much you try to hide yourself when the crew explores the new islands, and so he’ll force and muster up the courage to pull you by his side and hold your hand tightly, or wrap an arm around your shoulders.

He’ll tell you to relax and to just make yourself comfortable. He loves you, he doesn’t give a shit of your appearance at all. He’ll tell you not to worry yourself with your appearance because you’re just fine, don’t change just to impress and flatter others.

You have him and the crew with you. That’s more than enough. If anyone dares to make a comment, well, Zoro’s hands are already gripping his swords.

If you decide to come to him to help you with weight loss, he’ll ask if you’re sure and why you suddenly asked, and reminds you that you’re just fine. If you’re persistent, then he’ll gladly help you and push you.

However, if you really want to stop after a while, he’ll question you once before accepting, because he just wants you to be happy with yourself. He doesn’t like when you’re so upset, it makes his heart hurt seeing you cry.

Zoro is secretly soft and such a preciously sweet guy, so if he has to remind you everyday that he loves you, so be it then if that’s what you want. When you two cuddle for the night, you’re pulled and snuggled into his chest as his arms wrap around you and his chin resting on top of your head.

“You’re just fine like this. I love it and I love you so don’t worry over your appearance so much. Come here.”

-

Sanji

I believe Sanji would be the one who cares about appearances a little more? Just because in the anime, he’s often gawking at women who have curvy thin figures, rather than the thicker women, but if you have a good heart and you care for his cooking and his crew, appearance goes out the window with him.

When you’re acting shy around him, Sanji first thinks it’s extremely adorable and thinks you’re just nervous of a relationship, and assures it’s fine. But when you’re still acting shy, that’s when he gets a clearer idea of what causes it and his heart shatters.

Was it because he still gawks at other women? He couldn’t help that, it was just his nature to respect and love all women.. you understood that. Were you comparing yourself to the woman then? That was no good. How could you even think of doing that? Intentional or not. He wasn’t going to allow that.

When you’re out and about, Sanji would be right by your side, holding your hand and pointing out the many sweets and delicacies the island has, and would want to try them all with you. He’ll pull you close and place soft kisses on your hand or cheek in front of the public to show that you’re his and he loves you.

He may ogle a few women here and there, but once he realizes how shy and insecure you’ve become, Sanji restrains himself from doing so. He only has eyes for you and he wants you to know that.

Sanji knows when you’re not eating and he notices when you’re eating less. It breaks his heart to see you doing so, so he’ll often leave out or make a ton of snacks for you so you don’t starve or eat too little.

He’ll make healthier food for you if that’s what you want, because he just wants you to be happy with yourself and with him. Whatever you want, you’ll get, as long as it doesn’t hurt you in some way. Health wise, physically or mentally.

If anyone even tries to look at your wrongly or make a comment on you, Sanji is reach to kick their ass to the new world. He wants to make sure no one even dares to attempt to do so, and makes sure they learn their lesson for trying to hurt his precious [Name]-chan.

He’ll make constant reminders to ensure that you are beautiful and amazing in his eyes. It doesn’t matter what others think, as long as you love yourself and you know that him and the crew loves you. He’ll ask for your permission to kiss you as many times as you need to know.

“My dear, [Name]-chan. I love you exactly for who you are, so don’t change for anyone, you hear me? I love you.”

-

a/n: I hope you like these! I adored them. :DD super cuteee ☺️❤️💚💙

[hughjidiot]

Jelly Beans, A Sashannarcy Oneshot

So I’ve written a number of Sashannarcy oneshots that I’ve posted over on AO3 and figured it was about time I start sharing them here as well. So here’s the first oneshot, in which Sasha brings some special candy to spice up the girls’ weekly game night

---

“BeanBoozled?”

 Anne blinked in confusion as she beheld the colorful box Sasha was holding up. She and Sasha sat on the couch in the living room of the apartment they shared with Marcy, who at the moment was searching through the board game cabinet for a suitable game for their weekly game night.

 “Picked it up while I was out running errands today,” Sasha said. “Thought it could be a fun way to spice up game night.”

 “How are jelly beans gonna make game night more interesting?” Anne asked with a furrowed brow.

 Sasha grinned and gave the box a shake, the candy contents rattling within. “Ah, but these are no ordinary jelly beans. There are ten colors, but twenty possible flavors. Each color can be something really good, or really  really bad, and the only way to tell is to pop one in your mouth and hope for the best. Take a look.”

 Sasha passed the box to Anne. Her eyes widened as she beheld the flavors on the back. “Birthday cake or dirty dishwater? Coconut or spoiled milk? Peach or  barf!? Jeez, it’s like Russian Roulette with candy!”

 “Nah, at least with Russian Roulette the odds are five-to-one in your favor,” Marcy said as she walked over to the couch, a huge stack of boxes in her hands. “With those it’s more like a coin flip. Heads you get a delicious bean, tails you get one that’ll make you wanna die.”

 “Exactly,” Sasha said with a smirk and a mischievous glint in her eye. “What do you say, girls? Wanna raise the stakes this week?”

 “Sounds potentially disgusting and humiliating,” Marcy said, setting the board games on the table and taking a seat on the couch next to Anne. She grinned. “I’m in.”

 “Me too,” Anne said, smiling and handing the box back to Sasha. “What did you have in mind?”

 Sasha  hmmm’ed  as she looked over the games Marcy was offering. “We need a simple game. Let’s see here...  Clue,  no…  Cards Against Humanity, Settlers of Catan, Boss Monster…  no, no, nope… Ah, perfect!  Would You Rather.”

 Sasha opened up the game in question, took out a stack of cards and began shuffling them as she continued speaking. “So here’s what I’m thinking: we each take turns drawing a card and asking an either/or question for the other two to answer. Anyone who picks the less popular option has to eat a random bean out of the box. Sound good?”

 Anne and Marcy nodded. Sasha set the deck of cards down and drew the top one. “Cool, I’ll start us off then. Anne, Marcy, would you rather… punch a pilgrim or eat an avocado?”

 Anne sputtered out a laugh. “What kind of question is  that?”

 “That’s just the game,” Marcy said with a shrug. “Some of the choices have logic to them, others are just completely random. I think I’d rather eat an avocado, they’re loaded with nutrients and can be used to make guacamole.”

 “Avocado it is,” Sasha said. “Anne?”

 Anne pursed her lips. “Well from what I remember from history class, the Pilgrims  were kind of dicks… But I think I’ll go with the avocado too.”

 “And those are your final answers?” Sasha asked her girlfriends. Anne and Marcy nodded. “Well congratulations! According to the card fifty-nine percent of people agree with you.”

 Marcy and Anne high-fived. Sasha discarded the card and Anne reached for the deck to draw her own card.

 “Okay Marcy, Sasha, would you rather… have no teeth or have no tongue?”

 “Oof, that’s a tough one,” Sasha said. “Either one of those would make eating a pain in the ass.”

 Marcy rubbed her chin. “I think I’d rather have no teeth. ‘Cause at least if you have a tongue you could still taste stuff.”

 “But how would you chew with no teeth so you don’t choke and die?” Sasha asked.

 “Well that’s what blenders are for. Plus no tongue means you can’t  talk either.”

 “Oh, that’s a good point. Yeah, I’ll go with no teeth too.”

 Anne nodded, discarding her card. “You and sixty-three percent of people. Congrats girls, no one gets to try the beans yet. You’re up Marbles.”

 Marcy drew a card. “Sash, Anne, would you rather… sing everything you say or dance all your movements?”

 “Sing everything,” Sasha said with a proud smirk. “After all,  I’m a heart-stomper~! Stompin’ on hearts~!”

 Anne and Marcy laughed. “Oh man I haven’t thought about our old garage band in  years,” Marcy said. “We should break out the instruments one of these days, for old time’s sake.”

 “Yeah but it’s been so long we probably suck,” Anne said. “Dancing was always more my thing, so that’s what I’m going with.”

 “Ooh, first time two of us have picked different options,” Marcy said. She reached down for the BeanBoozled box. “Those are your final answers?” The other two girls nodded. “And the jelly bean goes to… Anne!”

 “Aw, for real?” Anne asked as Sasha pumped a fist in the air. Marcy nodded and showed the text on the card: fifty-six percent of people would rather sing as opposed to forty-four who’d rather dance. “Damn it. Okay, let’s see what we’ve got here…”

 On the back of the box was a circle of the ten jelly beans with a built-in spinner. She gave the spinner a flick and watched it slow until it settled on brown. “Okay that’s… chocolate pudding or canned dog food? Oh boy.”

 Anne picked through the box of candies, pulling out a single brown bean. She held the candy up between her thumb and forefinger, gulping audibly. “Well. Here we go…”

 Marcy and Sasha watched with great interest as Anne plopped the candy in her mouth. She slowly chewed… and a smile graced her face.

 “Oh thank God, it’s chocolate pudding!” She said, swallowing.

 “Aw, well that’s no fun,” Sasha said with an exaggerated pout. “You were supposed to get a gross one so me and Marcy could laugh at your misfortune.”

 “Hey, the night’s still young,” Anne said. “Don’t forget  you could also end up with a gross bean, Sasha.”

 “Well not this time, ‘cause it’s my turn to ask the question.” Sasha drew the next card of the deck. “Would you rather… be dangled over the edge of the cliff or forced to speak in public?”

 “Dangled off a cliff,” Marcy said instantly.

 “Really, Mar-Mar?” Anne asked flatly.

 “You girls  know how I am about public speaking! Why do you think I did most of the work during our group projects back in school and left the actual presentations to you two?”

 “Yeah, but we’re talking about public speaking vs. being dangled off a cliff!”

 “It doesn’t say anywhere that you actually get dropped!”

 Anne rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I’ll still go with public speaking.”

 “You and seventy-eight percent of people,” Sasha said. “Sorry Marcy, but the price of not having to speak in public is a gross jelly bean.”

 “Totally worth it,” Marcy said defiantly. She picked up the box and flicked the spinner. “And I get… toasted marshmallow or stink bug.”

 She plucked a brown-and-white bean from the box and plopped it in her mouth. She slowly chewed, and her neutral expression slowly morphed into disgust.

 “Oh. Oh that doesn’t taste good,” she said. Her jaw moved again and she gagged, hand going to her mouth. “Oh that’s really not good!”

 Anne tried to cover her giggle with a closed fist. “I don’t think she got the toasted marshmallow,” she said to Sasha, who openly laughed and slapped her knee. Marcy hunched over, face contorting.

 “Ugh, it tastes like how stink bugs smell,” Marcy said with a grimace. “That  sucked .”

 “Could’ve avoided it if you just did a little public speaking,” Sasha said in a sing-song voice.

 “Bite me, Sash,” Marcy grumbled. “Let’s see how you like it when  you get one of those beans. Draw a card, Anna-Banana.”

 Anne nodded and did so. “Would you rather own a mini horse or own a regular horse?”

 “Ooh, I’d love a mini horse,” Sasha said with a smile. “They can actually be kept as house pets, right?”

 “Yeah, but they still require a lot of upkeep,” Marcy pointed out. “If you’re gonna have a horse, it might as well be a full-sized one you can actually ride. I’d rather have a regular horse.”

 “Well I’ve got good news Marcy, so would fifty-nine percent of people.” Anne said. Sasha crossed her arms with a  hmph as Marcy smirked. 

 “Go ahead, take a bean Sasha,” Marcy said, holding the box out and giving it a taunting rattle.

 “Fine, I will,” Sasha said haughtily. She accepted the box and spun the spinner. “And I got… buttered popcorn or rotten egg.”

 Sasha quickly fished a yellow-and-white spotted jelly bean out of the box and quickly popped it in her mouth, face full of determination. Seconds passed as she chewed, Anne and Marcy watching her expression closely.

 Finally, Sasha smirked.

 “Buttered popcorn it is!” She said triumphantly. “Once again Sasha Waybright comes out on top.”

 “Seriously?” Marcy plopped back on the couch, crossing her arms and letting out a frustrated exhale. “I can’t believe I’m the only person who didn’t get a good bean yet!”

 “Cheer up Marbles, I’m sure you’ll get a tasty bean at some point,” Anne said. “Now draw the next card, this is getting good!”

 ---

 “Green,” Marcy said. It was a few questions later and she’d picked another lower option, choosing to only have access to games online along with thirty-three percent of people, compared to sixty-seven percent who’d rather have access to only Youtube. The spinner had given her a light-green bean to sample. “That’s juicy pear or  booger?  Oh jeez…”

 She picked a green jelly bean from the box and popped it in her mouth, chewing tentatively. She retched, cheeks turning as green as the candy she just ate.

 “Oh God it’s booger,” she said with a retch, to Anne and Sasha’s shared amusement. “ Blech, plech!  Oh that’s foul!”

 “Okay, so you got two bad ones in a row,” Anne said between giggles. “I’m sure you’ll have better luck next time.”

 ---

 “More people would rather drink tea than coffee, are you for real?!” Marcy asked, incredulous.

 “Well coffee  is an acquired taste, and there’s like a million different varieties of tea,” Anne pointed out, having picked the tea option to the question Sasha had given.

 “Yeah but… coffee!”

 “We get it Marcy, you love your bean water,” Sasha said. “But you still picked the lesser option, so it’s jelly bean time.”

 Marcy gave the spinner a twirl and grimaced. “Strawberry banana smoothie or dead fish?! Oh this isn’t gonna be fun.”

 She dug through the box until she found a lightly-colored orange bean with red speckles. With a heavy sigh she tossed it in her mouth, and her face contorted in disgust almost instantly.

 “Dead -  ack, hack - fish!” She said between gags. Anne looked like she was caught between sympathy and amusement, while Sasha was openly laughing.

 “Man Marcy, those beans really hate you,” Sasha said, wiping a tear from her eye.

 ---

 “Oh goodie, I got another one wrong,” Marcy said with a too-wide smile. “Silly me for thinking more people would rather die by drowning in a tsunami than throw themselves in lava.” 

 She let out a short, desperate laugh as she grabbed the box of jelly beans. “You know what? That’s fine, it’s fine. So what if three of three beans have tasted like garbage? One of them is bound to be good sooner or later. I mean if you flip a coin enough times, it’s bound to come up heads at some point. That’s just the law of averages, yeah.”

 “Uh, I think that’s the gambler’s fallacy,” Sasha pointed out with a raised brow.

 “Shut up and let me have hope, Sasha.” Marcy spun the spinner and giggled again. “Oh good, it’s peach or barf. That’s fine, that’s totally fine. Nothing to worry about, I’ve got a good feeling about this one.”

 She plucked another jelly bean out of the box, this one a darker orange with red flecks. She kept giggling, one of her eyes twitching.

 “You sure you’re okay, Marcy?” Anne asked, concerned.

 “I’m just  peachy , Anne!” Marcy said, far too brightly. “Peachy like I’m sure this jelly bean will be!”

 She stuffed in her mouth, chewing quickly. The smile remained frozen on her face even as her eyes began to water.

 “Aaaand it’s barf because  why not?!”  Marcy doubled over, hacking and coughing. “Oh God it’s on the sides of my tongue!”

 Anne gave Marcy a comforting pat on the back. Sasha just shook her head with a chuckle.

 “Okay, maybe we should give BeanBoozled a rest before Marcy keels over,” she said. “It was funny at first, but now it’s just getting sad.”

 “No no, I’m fine,” Marcy insisted even as she kept gagging. “I can get a good bean at some point, I know I can!”

 Anne and Sasha exchanged uncertain glances as Marcy grabbed the next card, it being her turn to read the question. “Okay, would you -  blech - rather be a Jedi master or an elite Saiyan?”

 “Ooh, I’d rather be a Saiyan,” Anne said instantly. “I love Dragon Ball!”

 “Well I guess I’ll be a Jedi,” Sasha said with a shrug. “At least I’ve actually seen Star Wars. I’ve only seen like a handful of Dragon Ball episodes.”

 “Well sixty-eight percent of people agree with you, Sasha,” Marcy said. “Sorry Anne, looks like it’s your turn for a bean.”

 Anne nodded and spun the box’s spinner with a swift finger flick. Around and around it spun until it landed on blue. “That’s berry blue or toothpaste.”

 “Aw man, you got an easy one,” Marcy said with a pout as Anne picked a blue jelly bean out of the box. “Toothpaste doesn’t even taste that bad.”

 Anne looked to Marcy as she plopped the bean in her mouth. Marcy, who’d been unfortunate enough to get four terrible-tasting jelly beans in a row. She smiled as an idea formed in her brain.

 “Hey Mar-Mar,” Anne said, voice slightly muffled with her mouth full.

 Marcy looked up, and didn’t even have time to react before Anne pulled her in for a surprise kiss. Marcy’s face lit up as she felt Anne’s tongue push past her lips, too stunned by the audacity to offer any sort of resistance. Anne pulled away after a few seconds, and Marcy felt a familiar lump in her mouth.

 “Oh my God!” Sasha laughed, a splash of red on her own cheeks as she brought a closed fist to her mouth. “Did you really just…? You  didn’t! ”

 “Yeah, I totally did,” Anne said proudly, blushing herself. “Well Marcy? What’s the verdict?”

 Marcy’s face was burning as she slowly chewed, a pleasant taste spreading across her taste buds. “Berry…”

[kuroopaisen]

cause & effect || chapter 5

➵ your work friend, kuroo, has a tiny favour to ask. unfortunately, that favour includes convincing his family that you’re very much in love with him and have been for a while now. let’s just say it’s easier than you’d assumed.

warnings: f!reader, mild depiction of anxiety i guess? 

wc: 3.9k

m.list | ch. 4 ↞ ch. 5 ↠ ch. 6

“You ready?” Kuroo asks, giving you a warm smile.

You take a deep breath.

He’s parked his car in the driveway of his parent’s home. You hadn’t even known he had a car; you’d always thought they were a bit useless when you live somewhere like Tokyo.

But that isn’t the point.

The point is, you’re about to meet his grandmother.

The very woman who’d started the toppling dominos that’d led to you sitting in this very car.

You’re also about to meet his dad and grandfather, but they sound a little less intimidating.

Honestly, you feel like this is all a bit quick. Do you even know him well enough to pull this off yet? But, as Kuroo had pointed out, the earlier you met his immediate family, the fewer names and faces you’d have to familiarise yourself with later in the month.

You’re the one who’d suggested this weekend, anyway. You can’t back out now.

“Hey,” Kuroo murmurs, tilting his head at you. “If you’re not feeling up to it, we can say you came down with a cold.”

“Oh,” you blink at him, heat rising in your cheeks. “Oh, no, it’s fine! I just need a moment. To… to steel myself.”

Kuroo smiles, the concern in his features melting away into relief. “Take all the time you need.”

“Thank you, Kuroo,” you nod.

God, how long has it been since you’d met someone’s parents? Too long. Embarrassingly long. Long enough for your own parents to be a little disappointed in you. Not that their opinions matter—

You shake your head.

No, no, you shouldn’t be thinking about them right now. You have a job to do.

“Alright,” you sigh. “I’m ready.”

“Great,” Kuroo nods. “Well… let’s go, I guess.”

The two of you slip out of the car, making your way towards the front door.

It opens before you’re even halfway there.

“Ah!” An old lady hobbles towards you, and you know immediately that it’s Kuroo’s grandmother. They have the same eyes – clever, bright, calculating.

“Look who decided to show up,” the woman tuts, placing her hands on her hips in the perfect image of a displeased mother.

Kuroo rubs the back of his neck, his cheeks turning pink. “You make it sound like I never visit,” he mumbles.

“Well, you certainly don’t visit as much as I’d like,” the old woman scoffs, shaking her head.

“I have a job, Obaa-chan,” Kuroo grins, stepping forward and ruffling her hair.

“Now, now, Tetsu,” she chuckles, swatting his hand away, “you’re still in no position to do that.”

“I’ll be the one looking after you in your old age, you know,” he teases.

“Oh, I’m well-aware,” she responds, totally unphased. “You’re not getting away with anything less.”

The old woman turns to you, a kind, if cheeky, smile on her face. The family resemblance really is striking. The eyes, the smile, the energy… It’s almost comical.

“Hello, dear,” she greets you with sincere warmth in her voice.

“Hello,” you smile as best you can, offering her a bow. Your stomach feels all fuzzy and your chest is tightening –

This shouldn’t be so stressful. It’s not like you’re meeting his family as his actual, real girlfriend. And yet, you’re still worried about making a good impression.

Oh, and putting on a good performance. That’s important too.

“Oh, none of that,” Kuroo’s grandmother chuckles, shaking her head.

As you rise up, she waddles towards you, arms open and ready to embrace you.

You respond at the last moment, only just registering what’s happening.

“It’s delightful to finally meet you,” Kuroo’s grandmother beam, looking you up and down. “Ah, you’re even lovelier than the photos.”

“You too,” you smile, your cheeks blooming for the second time today. “And thank you.”

His grandmother chuckles, throwing her arms around your neck. Your eyes widen and you almost jump, but you reciprocate, nonetheless.

This woman is already more delightful than you can handle.

“I’ve heard many wonderful things about you, my dear.”

You didn’t think your face could get any warmer, and yet here you are. “You have?”

“Indeed!” She laughs. “And I’ve surmised that you are far too good for my grandson.”

“Obaa-chan!” Kuroo gasps.

“Would you begrudge me for telling her the honest truth, my boy?” Kuroo’s grandmother tuts. “I know you’ve got a good head on your shoulders. You should be able to put two and two together.”

“You’re exaggerating,” you laugh.

“Oh, surely not,” she shakes her head, taking a step back. “Now come, come!”

She hobbles back to the front door, beckoning the two of you.

You stall. Why, you don’t know. Nerves, probably? Man, this is so much harder than you thought…

“Hey,” Kuroo murmurs, his hand resting lightly on the small of your back. You start as his breath tickles your ear, whipping your head round to look at him.

He nods towards his front door with an encouraging look in his eyes.

You swallow roughly, trying to ground yourself. There’s more to be nervous about than you’d anticipated.

The two of you walk through the front door – Kuroo has to stoop a little, because of course – and you take a moment to survey the house.

It’s a little cobbled together – walls covered with frames of all different shapes and sizes, a bookcase full to bursting with a rainbow of books, trinkets scattered here and there. It’s a mix of Japanese and Western-style, a concoction of couches and spare floor cushions, a low coffee table, wide rooms with open sliding doors and generous windows.

Slapdash as it is, it’s homely. Comforting, even.

Kuroo’s grandmother potters around the kitchen. From the clatter of mugs and kettle, you guess she’s preparing tea.

You turn to Kuroo for instruction. He takes your hand in his, leading you through the front room and towards the kitchen. You tighten your fingers around his palm, trying to calm the swirl of nerves rattling around your stomach.

He pulls out a chair for you at the kitchen table. You thank him quietly and slip into it as he plops himself next to you.  

He slouches against the back of his chair, his demeanour melting in a way you’ve never seen before.

Well, you think, this is the house he grew up in.

“Here you go, dears,” his grandmother hums, flashing through the corner of your vision and setting a tea-set on the table in front of you. “I hope you’re a fan of green tea.”

“Thank you,” you smile. You’re not going to complain – especially since she’s gone to the trouble of preparing it for you.

She pours out three yunomi, setting one in front of each of you. Once she’s done, she plops herself down on one of the chairs, wiggling forward so she’s on the edge of her seat.

“Now,” she smiles, reaching over and taking one of your hands in hers. “You must simply tell me all about yourself.”

You freeze.

What is there to say? Even now, an adult with a wage job, you can’t quite put a finger on what really defines you as a person. It certainly isn’t your job in marketing.

You clench your free fist in your lap, trying to think of something, anything to say.

Even if this is fake, even if this is just a ruse to calm his grandmother’s nerves for the holiday’s… it’s hard. It’s scary.

You want to make a good impression. You want this to go well. But you just don’t know how to make that happen. What if his grandmother doesn’t even like you? What then?

Kuroo slips a hand over your balled-up fist, rubbing a gentle thumb over the ridges of your knuckles. You loosen your grip just a little, letting him slip his fingers through yours.

The contact is still strange, still foreign. And it’s fake.

You know it’s fake.

But it gives you the tiny spurt of strength you need.

“Ah,” you laugh nervously, “where would you like me to start?”

The old woman smiles, shaking her head. “You’re fine, dear. The two of you met at work, yes?”

“Yes,” you nod. “He makes it more bearable.”

His grandmother laughs. “Well, I suppose his sense of humour is decent enough. He gets it from me, after all.”

You grin. “There is that. But he… he helped me settle in when I first started working there. I really appreciated that.” You blush. It doesn’t sound particularly romantic, but they’re honest feelings. Perhaps the best way to make this believable is to play upon what’s already there.

Kuroo squeezes your hand gently. You squeeze his back.

“You just can’t help yourself, can you Tetsu?” His grandmother chuckles. “You see a lost little duckling and you just have to take them under your wing.”

Kuroo blushes, bringing a hand up to rub the back of his neck. “Well… you know…”

His grandmother shakes her head, turning back to you. “He’s always been like this, you see.”

“Trust me, I’ve heard all about Kenma,” you smile. “Oh, and there’s a Tsukishima, right? From volleyball.”

“As I expected,” she chuckles, raising an eyebrow at Kuroo.

“You make it sound like I go around picking up charity cases,” he mumbles, looking away from her. You can’t make up much of his face, but his ears have gone a little pink.

“Are you calling me a charity case, Tetsu?” You tease, tilting your head at him.

His head whips back around, eyes wide. “No—I—why would you draw that conclusion?”

You giggle, giving his hand another squeeze. “Just teasing.”

His grandmother chuckles, a new glint in her eyes. “You might have to reconsider who the charity case here is, my boy.”

“I never said she was a charity case!” He whines, looking between the two of you with an expression of deepening panic. “I would never—”

“I thought I raised you to treat women better,” his grandmother sighs, propping her elbows on the table and dramatically hanging her head in her hands. “To see that I’ve failed so terribly…”

You laugh, the tension in your stomach easing a little.

He definitely gets his sense of humour from her, you realise.

And it’s more than just the sense of humour.

You know this woman’s already picked up on your anxieties. It’s like she’s trying to soothe them, in her own way. Just like he does.

His observant eye is a family trait, it seems.

The conversation flows a little easier after that; Kuroo tries to redeem himself to little effect, his grandmother asks you how you like to spend your spare time, Kuroo tries to stop her from relaying any embarrassing childhood stories…

You’re not sure how long you’ve been sitting at the kitchen table, but your tea’s gone cold.

You haven’t even drunk any of it.

“Oh, I should put the kettle back on,” his grandmother hums, as if reading your mind. “I’ve always been bad at playing host.”  

“Not at all!” You say without even thinking.

Kuroo’s grandmother chuckles, offering you a kind smile. Her gaze flicks to Kuroo, the look on her face turning a little wicked. “Honestly, Tetsu, I don’t know how you managed to land yourself such a sweet young woman.”

“It’s almost as if you don’t have faith in me,” Kuroo grumbles, propping his chin on his hand.

“The gall it must take to say such things to your own grandmother,” she tuts. “It’s my duty to love you more than anything else on this planet, you know.”

“Hm,” Kuroo nods slowly. “It’s a shame you’re not doing a very good job at performing said duty, then.”

“Kuroo!” You gasp, staring at him with slack jaw.

A sound that exists somewhere in the venn diagram of a shriek, a warble, and a laugh erupts from Kuroo’s grandmother. “My my, we are getting bold!”

“He’s lying,” you cut in, “he talks about you all the time. Especially about how good you’ve been to him.”

“Oh?” She grins devilishly. “Is that so?”

“Mhm,” you nod. “He’s a real grandma’s boy.”

“Oi!” Kuroo barks, staring at you with what appears to be disbelief. Nothing you’re saying is a lie – and that just makes it all the more incriminating.

“Oh, don’t blame her, Tetsu dear,” his grandmother laughs. “I’m sure she’s just worried about my feelings.”

You blush a little. She’s right – the last thing you want is for this lovely old woman to feel like her grandson did nothing less than adore her.

But, this family dynamic is very new to you. You can’t imagine being this casual with your own family members.  

“I’m sorry, Obaa-chan,” Kuroo grins, shaking his head. “I didn’t mean it.”

“You better not have!” She gasps, placing one aghast hand on her chest. “Goodness me, Tetsu, you’re going to do my heart in if you’re not careful.”

“And we can’t have that,” Tetsu chuckles softly.

A lull sets over the kitchen as the verbal combatants take a moment to compose themselves. You let the silence sit, trying to find comfort in the pause.

You can tell that there’s nothing misunderstood here. Even though you feel like you need to explain, like you need to ensure that she’s aware of how Kuroo really feels…

Well, it seems like that’s not necessary at all.

How beautiful, you think to yourself with a small smile.

A scuffling down the hallway perks your ears.

“Oh, hello!”

You turn towards the source of this new voice.

A kindly old man pokes his head through the hallway. He’s got quite a lot of hair for someone his age.

“Hey grandad,” Kuroo says, holding up a hand.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were visiting today?” He chuffs, hobbling towards the little gathering.

Kuroo frowns. “Obaa-chan didn’t tell you?”

The woman in question chuckles to herself.

“Really?” Kuroo asks, raising an eyebrow at her.

“You’ve got to make your own fun when you’re this age, Tetsu dear,” his grandmother says sagely, bringing her yunomi to her lips as if to declare an end to the interrogation before it’s even begun.

At this point, the tea must be stone cold.

The older man tuts, turning to you with a nod. “I’m so sorry I didn’t come and make my introductions earlier, my dear.”

“You must be Tetsu’s grandfather,” you grin, returning the nod.

“The wrinkles gave it away, didn’t they?” He sighs.

“Not at all,” you shake your head with a smile. “It’s the air of wisdom.”

He laughs, a full-bellied chortle that’s not unlike the one of the man sitting next to you. “Oh, now I know you’re lying. There’s no wisdom to be found in here.”

He emphasises his point with a solid tap of two fingers against his temple.

“Oh, I’m sure that’s untrue,” you smile.

“He married me, dear,” Kuroo’s grandmother chuckles. “Believe me, that is not the mark of a wise man.”

“I beg to differ,” you turn to her with bright eyes. “I think any man would be lucky to have you.”

A genuinely delighted laugh leaves her lips. “Oh, you really are lovely, hm?”

You blush for what feels like the hundredth time today, glancing down at your lap.

Your hand is still twined with Kuroo’s. You’d forgotten about that. He seems to have, too.

How strange.

You raise your head sharply, intent not to think about it too hard.

Kuroo’s grandparents are exchanging a look – so many years of marriage simply must result in some kind of nonverbal literacy, right?

“Go call Ta-chan, would you dear?” Kuroo’s grandmother smiles sweetly up at her husband, fluttering her eyelashes like a young vixen.

He rolls his eyes, but even you can tell it’s out of fondness. “Yes, darling.”

“Ta-chan?” You ask, looking to Kuroo.

“My dad,” he grins.

“Ah,” you giggle. The thought of a man well into his fifties being referred to as ‘Ta-chan’ is enough to help you feel a little more comfortable. Just a little.

Kuroo’s grandmother scuttles off down the hallway. His grandmother gets up and puts the kettle on again after pouring her current cup of tea down the sink.

You take a moment to compose yourself, turning to Kuroo.

He smiles at you, his cheeks warm and his eyes fond.

‘How am I doing?’ you mouth at him.

‘Great,’ he mouths back.

The burden slides a little, your shoulders feeling a little lighter.

You can’t quite tell, but if Kuroo thinks you’re doing okay…

“Ah, hello!”

The new voice makes you jump as a new presence fills the kitchen.

A tall, broad man ambling his way towards you, his cheeks ruddy and his eyes glinting with a cleverness that you’ve already begun to associate with the Kuroo family line.

“Kuroo Takashi,” he beams, holding one hand towards you. “And trust me, you need no introduction.”

You blush as you take his hands, giving it a meagre shake. “It’s nice to meet you.”  

Takashi grins at you as he pulls out a seat of his own, right next to his father.

You realise, now, that the table is full.

Some absent-minded conversation flies around the dining table – something about work, something about the vegetable garden.

Family stuff.

It’s endearing, even if you’re not a part of it. Even if you don’t really know what it feels like.

“Well,” Kuroo’s grandmother hums, folding her hands in her lap as she shot you a knowing look, “I’m just glad he’s finally got a girl to look at him twice.”

The comment brings you back to the moment like a sharp slap. You raise an eyebrow at her in response, hoping it makes you look like you’ve been engaged this whole time.

“Ha ha, very funny,” Kuroo scoffs, rolling his eyes.

His grandmother leans across the table towards you with a playful glint in her eye. “You see, he wasn’t very popular with the girls in high school.” She casts a furtive glance towards her grandson. “I think it’s the hair.”

“Obaa-chan!”

You bite back a laugh at the expression of pure incredulity on Kuroo’s face.

“I kept telling you to brush it,” she tuts. “And yet, you always ignored me.”

“I did brush it!” He whines, patting the top of his head. “It just made it worse!”

“That’s what young boys always say when you try to get them to take care of their hygiene,” his grandmother sighs. “It’s a real shame.”

“Is that a dig at me?” Takashi asks.

“And what if it was?”

“You know, I think you need to be taking more responsibility,” he tuts, shaking his head. “We’re the result of your genes, after all,” he says, gesturing between him and Kuroo.

“Yeah,” Kuroo nods.

His grandmother raises his hands in surrender, shaking her head slowly. “Why are you just blaming me? Shigeru is right here—”

“Don’t pin this on me!” Kuroo’s grandfather scoffs. “I am but a bystander!”

You watch the family bicker with a gentle smile on your face.

Kuroo Tetsurou makes sense to you now.

This is only your first meeting, but there’s a little bit of all of them in him. There’s a relief to knowing that no matter what, Kuroo is loved. Adored. Cherished.

And he’s comfortable here. It’s like he can be himself – and he can certainly run his mouth without fear of retribution.

It’s nice to pretend to be a part of it, even if just for a moment.

✧ ✧ ✧

When Kuroo had asked you to pop by Kenma’s house with him, you hadn’t expected… this.

The house isn’t opulent, per se, but it’s big. It’s enough of a spectacle to be a marker of wealth, even if it didn’t have all the bells and whistles that usually accompanied excessive capital.

But perhaps the most staggering thing about it is its occupant.

You’d been told that Kenma’s a successful YouTuber. With that knowledge in mind, you couldn’t help but have expectations.

And yet this man, this famous YouTuber who Kuroo couldn’t shut up about, is so… normal. Just some guy, standing in his sweatpants and a jumper, his long hair tied up in a messy bun.

The contrast with the house is almost comical.

“Hey, so…” Kuroo grins bashfully, one hand rubbing the back of his neck. “Don’t laugh.”

The man standing at the door of this ludicrously expensive-looking house glances between the two of you, his apathetic expression darkening to one of incredulity. “What’ve you done?”

Kuroo turns to you, his cheeks a little red. “So…”

He takes a moment to introduce you. He also decides that now, this moment, is the perfect time to explain his harebrained scheme. You can’t keep up as he babbles on about miai and the holidays and meddlesome family members and all sorts.

Kenma stares at him through narrowed eyes. His mouth is drawn into a sour point, as if he’s just bitten an ulcer by accident.

“And this is… my fake girlfriend,” Kuroo laughs nervously, gesturing at you.

Kenma turns to you. He looks a bit like he’s having an out-of-body experience.

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” you smile brightly. “Kuroo talks about you like he’s a proud father or something.”

Kenma shoots Kuroo a truly vitriolic glare. Kuroo grins back, a shade more bashful than before.

Kenma turns back to you with a touch of sympathy in his eyes. “I’m so sorry about him.”

“Oh, it’s fine,” you laugh, waving a hand at him.

Kenma blinks at you, as if appraising… something. Your tone, maybe? Your expression? Who knows?

He just sighs, turning back to Kuroo.

“Explain it to me again,” he drawls. He looks positively exhausted. “But in one sentence this time.”

“So, to stop my grandma from setting me up on dates, she’s agreed to be my girlfriend for a few weeks,” Kuroo says, as if it’s the most nonchalant thing in the world. “Not my real girlfriend, but, like…”

Kenma stares at him for an excruciatingly long moment. “You’re so stupid.”

“Why?” Kuroo pouts.

“You really think this is going to work?”

He turns to you, a subtle look of genuine pity in his eyes. “I’m so sorry he dragged you into this.”

“It’s fine,” you smile, waving a hand at him. “He’s going to buy me boba for a year.”

Kenma shoots Kuroo a disparaging look.

“It seemed like a fair deal,” Kuroo shrugs.

Kenma shakes his head, closing his eyes. “We can discuss this after the collab.”

“Oh, right,” Kuroo grins at you bashfully. “I’ve got to shoot a collab with Kenma, so if you want to take the car and go somewhere, or…”

“I can help,” you say, almost automatically. “If you need a hand, or…”

A beautiful grin blossoms across Kuroo’s face. “Thank you.”

You smile back at him, your heart doing a little skip in your chest.

“Have you ever moderated a chat before?” Kenma asks.

You shake your head. “No, but I’m a fast learner.”

Kenma smiles a little at that, turning around. “Alright, come on.”

Kuroo gestures you forward, a gentle, fond expression on his face. You nod, stepping through the front door and removing your shoes.

This is only a small sliver of Kuroo’s world, only one little look into all the complexities that go into making this one man. But it’s already so beautiful; so bright, so full of adoration.

You’re already grateful for your stay here – even if it’s going to be brief.

Even if it’s all based on a lie.

✧ ✧ ✧

a/n: let’s pretend this isn’t late sdflkjfsdlkjf anyway!! 

[wallgirl]

The Little Nereid Part 12

Record of Ragnarok fanfiction

Poseidon x OC

Word count: 2,200

Dynamene, youngest of the 50 Nereids, has lived most of her adolescence as a servant alongside her sisters at Poseidon’s palace. But with her coming-of-age birthday and other developments, what she initially thought was just admiration of her master blossoms into something stronger and more passionate… and painful. Loving someone like Poseidon is not easy period, let alone as your first love. But Dynamene is young and naïve, and all she wants is a chance to be at the sea god’s side.

Categories and warnings: Romance, angst, unrequited love, coming-of-age, earn-your-happy-ending, slow-burn (ish); no sexual content. There will be some graphic violence in the future.

Updated regularly; will have about 18 parts total.

—

It was still dark out when Dynamene arrived at the temple. Dawn was just breaking over the horizon, the ocean calm. Still soaking wet from head to toe, she left puddles of water with each trudge up the sizable hill where the temple overlooked the sea. She had never been to a human temple before. It was less grand than she had imagined, though still tall and stately. It was impressive as far as human architecture went, she supposed.

She entered hesitantly, feeling almost embarrassed to be tracking water into a sacred, if humble, place. In the room at the center of the temple stood Aphrodite's cult image. It was roughly life-sized and hewn from wood, with a delicate cloth draping it modestly. Dynamene suppressed a smile when she saw it; it was much less curvaceous and delicate looking than the real goddess. She approached it gingerly, not sure what to do next.

Most humans that came to temples to ask something of the gods brought an offering, she knew, but she hadn't the faintest idea what to present. She was entirely empty-handed, save for the thin chiton she wore and her treasured bracelet, neither of which she was about to part with.

After a few minutes of pondering, the answer came to her - Aphrodite was the goddess of beauty, too, not just love. Dynamene's hands went to her two braids. Would she accept her hair as an offering...? Surely there was little more a woman could give in way of sacrificing her beauty.

She picked up a sharp seashell from the altar and aligned it with the base of the first braid, against her neck, and took a deep breath. Her hair had been long her whole life, but it would grow back, right?

Before she could even make the first cut, there was a deafening clap, and she was surrounded by white light.

When the light cleared, she was no longer standing in the dim inner room of the temple. A strange burning sensation lingered on her skin before quickly subsiding. Dynamene hesitantly lifted her head.

She was in a vast room with golden floors and roses of every color climbing the frescoed walls. A giant fountain, several times her height, stood ahead to her right. It bubbled and gurgled merrily, the white foam so bright that she could hardly look at it. A handful of small cherubs tended to bunches of pristine lilies that floated serenely in the bottom pool. And to her left, reclining on a golden couch inlaid with diamonds and pearls, was a statuesque woman with golden waves and wide eyes.

"My, you weren't really going to cut your hair, were you?" Aphrodite cried, staring at Dynamene with alarm. "I may be the goddess of love as well as beauty, but I'll let you in on a secret - no woman should sacrifice her looks for a man."

Dynamene immediately turned red. "I... I apologize." She tucked the shell away awkwardly into the fold of her chiton. "Um, where am I?"

"You're at my palace, on Mount Olympus," Aphrodite proclaimed. She smiled at Dynamene and tilted her head. "I've been waiting so long to speak with you. Come, sit!"

Mount Olympus?! Dynamene had been here before on a few occasions to accompany Poseidon as part of his court, but only to the common grounds. Each of the twelve Olympians had their own estate and palace that they designed and furnished to their liking, most filled with opulence and treasure that lesser beings could barely dream of. To think that she should now find herself in one was incredible.

Aphrodite snapped her fingers. A couch that matched her own appeared next to Dynamene, as well as a table with cups and a jug of some mysterious liquid. "You must be famished. You've had quite the journey; sit, sit!"

How could she know that? Dynamene settled nervously onto the couch and smoothed the bottom of her dress. She was all too aware of how bedraggled she must look, especially in such an exquisite place. The upholstery became dotted with dark spots of water from her damp hair.

Aphrodite snapped her fingers, and Dynamene's clothes and hair dried in an instant. "There we are. More comfortable?"

"Um, yes, thank you." Dynamene touched the bottom of her braid in amazement. The jug on the table before her poured itself into her cup, and she brought it to her mouth with both hands. Something incredibly sweet and steaming hot flowed into her lips.

"That's nectar. Careful you don't drink too much, it'll cause indigestion. Now then, you've called upon me for help," Aphrodite beamed and moved upright, crossing her legs. "I'm overjoyed, to say the least." She rested her chin elegantly on the thumb and pointer finger of one hand.

"You are?" Dynamene felt completely lost.

"Yes! I've been following your adventure ever since things began to really heat up a few weeks ago. Your birthday, to be precise. How exciting! I haven't seen a love story this gripping in centuries."

Dynamene almost dropped her cup. "Following me?! Do you mean you've seen everything that's happened since then?"

"Well, the juicy bits, yes. As the goddess of love, I can tune in on any love affair or infatuation I desire. Most are a bit boring, nowadays. But you... Your feelings for Poseidon... It's such a delight! What a turn of events! I'm quite invested." Aphrodite giggled.

Dynamene's face continued to burn red. "I... I don't understand."

Aphrodite sighed and leaned back once more. "Ah, Poseidon... such an enigma. Such a tall, dark, and handsome man... Such an incredible body... But such a wretched personality."

Dynamene flinched.

"He really is a delight to look at, though, isn't he?" Aphrodite sighed, her gaze turning dreamy. "There was a time when I thought I might add him to my body count... But his stifling demeanor quickly dispersed that idea from my head. Such a foul attitude."

Dynamene felt a different kind of heat rise up from her neck to her ears, and her gaze narrowed before she could hide her feelings. Aphrodite laughed in response.

"Oh, don't worry! I'd never touch him now; such a cold fish. Not the type to be a considerate lover, at any rate. An ice statue of a man," she scoffed. Her gaze moved back to Dynamene with curiosity. "But you love him anyway!" Aphrodite leaned forward once more, her eyes wide.

Dynamene stared at her lap, completely overwhelmed. "I... I do." Her voice sounded so small, even to herself.

"Tell me about it! How did it happen? What was it that made you fall for him? I want to know everything!"

"Um..." Dynamene swallowed hard. She could see him clearly in her mind's eye; that piercing gaze and chiseled body. She remembered the way his body had shadowed hers in the dark on the beach. What was it...

Aphrodite smirked, as if she knew exactly what Dynamene was thinking. "Yes, handsome, that much is a give-in. But what else? There has to be something drawing you to him."

"Well..." Dynamene racked her brain. "He's incredibly powerful, and smart. He knows his realm so well..."

"That's a start, I suppose," Aphrodite clicked her tongue. "But men like that are a dime-a-dozen. And that won't keep you warm at night."

"What?" Although Dynamene had no idea what she was getting at, she had the feeling it was something rather uncouth.

"Oh, I apologize. You're a virgin, right? You're inexperienced in these matters." Aphrodite took a dainty sip from her own cup. "Those qualities are all nice and fine, but there's nothing romantic or passionate about them. Not things that really light the flame of love, as it were."

Dynamene was silent for a moment, staring at her hands. She thought of the way he'd spoken with her on the beach, and the way he'd gone out of his way to show her the wonderful things he saw underwater. "He shared his power with me... He used it to show me all the things he could sense in the ocean. It was amazing, and so nice. He held my hand... and I didn't want him to let go."

"So that's it!" Aphrodite said triumphantly. "He made you feel special. He gave you a glimpse of something he's never shown anyone else."

Dynamene smiled wistfully. "And then, he promised me another bracelet... He's never given me anything besides on my birthday. It must mean something. He's never done that for anyone before."

"The frigid tyrant is finally thawing," Aphrodite pondered, swishing her cup. "Maybe he won't spend eternity a virgin, after all," she snickered.

Wait... Does she mean me and him...? Dynamene hid her face in her hands. Oh, no. This is too much. What am I doing here?!

"So he is getting sweet on you, then." Aphrodite threw her head back in laughter. "Oh, I can't believe it; that a day like this would come! It's too much."

"Well... not sweet, exactly, but..." Dynamene rubbed her arm.

"Not sweet?" Aphrodite rose one eyebrow. "He didn't kill you when he had the opportunity. That's quite the gesture of fondness for him, really."

Dynamene blinked, struck speechless.

"Now, then," Aphrodite continued, her voice taking on a more business-like tone. "As far as directly helping you, there's little I can offer. Poseidon would have my head if he ever found out I was interfering in his love life, and that wouldn't do." She sighed rather theatrically.

"Oh." Dynamene's shoulders sank. Then it was all for nothing.

"But..." Aphrodite continued with a mischievous smile. "That doesn't mean I can't point you in the direction of someone who can help you. I've heard through the grapevine that there's a witch not far from Poseidon's estate who does spell work for those who are willing to pay the price. She lives in one of the deepest undersea trenches. I'm sure she'd be happy to strike a deal with you."

"A witch?" Dynamene had misgivings about this immediately. Witches didn't exactly enjoy the highest of praises within the Greek pantheon's society. "Aren't a lot of them shady?"

"They are. But you're clever enough, and there's no guarantee that this witch will be as seedy as the rest. Just keep your wits about you. All you need is something to convince him to make a commitment to you. I understand Hera gave you a blessing during her latest visit."

Dynamene remembered the gilded pomegranate. "She did."

"Something about a guaranteed happy union, correct? She told me about it. There's your ticket to a happy ending; you just need to secure the union in the first place."

Dynamene smiled. "You're right. It was very kind of Hera to give me a blessing. I was so surprised."

"She didn't do it out of the kindness of her heart," Aphrodite sighed, giving her curls a shake.

Dynamene's smile froze. "What do you mean?"

"Hmm..." Aphrodite puffed her cheeks, weighing her next words. "I'll let you in on a little insider's secret: she wants Poseidon married to force a crack in his armor."

Dynamene stared at her. "Pardon? His armor?"

"If Poseidon gets married and has a family, he'll have a weak spot. Hera knows that Poseidon is feared more than Zeus, and she loathes the possibility of him holding more influence. She wants to have a way to keep Poseidon in line. That's why she gave you that pomegranate." Aphrodite shook her head, wrapping a curl of hair idly about one finger.

Dynamene's head was spinning as she tried to put two and two together. "But... the blessing would be useless to her purpose unless she knew that one of us liked the other. So how...?"

Aphrodite giggled mischievously and gave Dynamene a wink. "I guess I'm not always the best secret keeper myself."

Dynamene stared at her, aghast. Hera would use me as a tool to get to Poseidon? Her eyes darted back and forth anxiously. I'm so stupid. Of course she wouldn't give a random blessing like that out of kindness; that's not how the Olympians usually function.

"Don't fret too much, dear Dynamene." Aphrodite's eyes darkened above her smile. "It doesn't really matter what the future after your union holds; not how miserable of a man Poseidon is, or what your relationship turns out to be. If you marry him while holding that blessing, you'll be happy no matter what your situation is."

Dynamene's gaze searched the goddess's face. Why did it seem like Aphrodite's expression was almost one of pity?

Happy... even if I shouldn't be?

"Rest assured, I am rooting for you, little Nereid. Now go; I'll send you near the witch's home. Or, at least where I think it is." The goddess of beauty shrugged her delicate shoulders.

White light enveloped Dynamene once more, and she braced herself. Before Aphrodite's palace disappeared, she heard the goddess call out one last time: "In exchange, I expect to be the first to know about your wedding night!"

---

Author’s notes:

Did you know, when I started this fanfiction, I planned it to be 4 parts and about 9000 words?

I am now past 32000. Help me.

Things are coming to a head, stay tuned.

[drabbles-mc]

Protective Detail (3/?)

Nestor Oceteva x Reader

Warnings: language, falling more in love with Nestor than we already were originally (if that’s even possible)

Word Count: 2.7k

A/N: I’m a sucker for characters building relationships. Humans slowly getting to know each other and get more comfortable with each other??? Friendships and feelings developing?? Sign me the fuck up lmao. As always, hope y’all enjoy xoxo

Chapter Index

Protective Detail Taglist: @masterlistforimagines​ @sillygoose6969​ @mydaiilyescape​ @lovebennycolon​ @the-radical-venus​ @gemini0410​ @garbinge​ (If you want to be tagged in this fic or any of my other writing let me know!)

A few days into the new arrangement, you and Nestor had started figuring out a little bit of a routine. There were a lot of quiet moments between the two of you—you realized that he wasn’t much of a talker and you were still trying to figure out how to get him to say more than two sentences at a time about anything. It was like your new mission.

He was adamant about doing dishes. He couldn’t stand letting them sit in the sink overnight, so they were always clean first thing in the morning when you came out into the kitchen. He’d shake his head at you before you could even try to tell him that it wasn’t necessary. You wanted to be motivated enough to clean them before you went to bed, but by the time the end of the day rolled around all you wanted to do was crawl under the covers and pass out, so that was usually what you ended up doing.

“I’ll do dishes but I draw the line at combining our laundry,” he said as he carried his small hamper of dirty clothes to the basement where the washer and dryer were.

You laughed, calling after him, “Oh darn. How am I supposed to snoop through your stuff, then?” you felt your phone vibrating in your pocket and you took it out to see who was calling, smiling to yourself when you saw your father’s contact photo on your phone screen, “You’re calling early.”

“You’re awake early,” you could hear the smile in his voice, “Was just calling to check in and see how things are going.”

“I haven’t succeeded in driving him away yet, unfortunately.”

Nestor’s voice came from downstairs, “I can hear you!”

“Good!” you called back with a laugh before returning your attention to your phone call.

Your father sighed, “So things are going well, I see.”

“It’s really not bad at all, Papi. Nestor is alright. It’s just weird living with someone that you don’t know,” you paced the floor of your kitchen, “You know how long he’s gonna have to stay with me?”

“Until I feel that things have been properly handled.”

“You sure Miguel doesn’t need him back?”

“Even if he did, he would never ask me,” you knew your father well enough to know that there was a light smugness to his voice as he said that, “But you’ve been alright? You’re safe?”

“Yes, I’m safe,” you heard Nestor’s footsteps coming back up the stairs and you turned to face him, a childish smirk on your face, “Nestor is doing a fabulous job protecting me.” You chuckled as he pressed his lips into a thin line and made his way to the guest room without a word.

Your father laughed, knowing that you were giving your protective detail a run for his money, “Don’t be too hard on him, mija.”

You laughed, “No promises. I’ll talk to you soon, okay? Love you.”

“Love you too,” he let out a soft chuckle before hanging up the call.

Morning faded into the afternoon and you hadn’t seen Nestor since he disappeared after he brought laundry downstairs. Some moments you wondered if your father’s concern about him being annoyed enough to quit were valid, but you also figured that Nestor was too proud and stubborn to bail. You walked down the hall and knocked on the open door to what you now considered his room. He was sitting on the edge of his bed, tying his shoes. You smiled slightly as he looked over at you, eyebrows raised.

“You almost ready to go?” you asked, “Ready for another very boring night sitting at the bar watching me like a creep?”

He stood up and walked over to you, and for a moment you were reminded of the size difference between the two of you. he glanced down at you, making you feel very small as your face instantly got hot, “Ready to watch me watch you? Like an even bigger creep?” You chuckled, mostly to try and relieve the tension that was bubbling up inside your body. He brushed past you and went to grab his keys, “My turn to drive.”

You followed his path and opened your mouth to argue, but you knew it was useless. With a sigh you grabbed your purse and followed him out the door to his SUV. He’d driven you a couple places in it, and you had to admit it had way more room than your car when it came to grocery shopping. You still weren’t ready to accept it as your main mode of transportation, though. You could’ve had your own nice car, and your father would’ve preferred it, but you didn’t like feeling so obvious. And, in the case of Nestor’s car, you hated feeling like you were constantly fighting to not touch anything in his pristine vehicle.

“You really don’t need to stay for my whole shift, Nestor,” you said as the two of you walked in the front door, “I’m sure there are more important things you could spend a couple hours doing and then just come pick me up afterwards.”

He shook his head, opening the door for you, “Can’t do it.”

It was a busier shift—Saturday’s always were. You almost felt bad for Nestor, but at least there were enough people to keep him occupied and have him feeling like he was actually serving a purpose by being there with you. He never said anything, but you knew that things had been so quiet lately and it was probably a big change of pace from whatever he was usually doing for the Galindos. Any time you tried to ask or allude to it, though, he went silent.

You finally had a moment to pause and catch your breath for a second when you saw Nestor waving you over. You leaned over the bar so he wouldn’t have to shout whatever it was that he had to say to you, sporting your best Customer Service Smile so the people around you wouldn’t get clued in on anything.

“Guy over in that booth has been eyeing you for the last fifteen minutes.”

You were about to tell him that there were always creeps leering at you while you were working, but when you saw who he was talking about, your facial expression dropped. You saw Nestor’s whole body tense up and he went to stand, but you put your hands over his to stop him. He turned to you, clearly confused and on-edge.

“He’s not a problem. Just a shitty ex-boyfriend. He’s annoying, but not a security concern. You can sit, it’s fine,” you nodded to him to reassure him before plastering a smile back on your face and getting back to your other patrons.

Nestor didn’t like the fact that the man kept staring at you. And despite the fact that you had explicitly told him that he wasn’t an issue, there was still a very strong urge to get up and physically throw him out of the building. For the sake of your job, though, Nestor kept himself seated, keeping an eye on everyone else while paying special attention to the man in the booth.

You don’t know how you missed him coming in, but you almost wished that Nestor hadn’t said anything. Now you couldn’t help but to feel him staring at you and it was a difficult feeling to ignore. It would have been a total abuse of power to ask Nestor to go over and get in his face, and you knew it, but the option was still tempting nonetheless. You were glad that he was at least keeping to himself.

That luck ran out too, though. You were looking across the expanse of the bar to see if anyone needed anything, and sure enough he was standing at the far end, a smug grin on his face because he knew that you were going to have to come over and talk to him. Jade saw the look on your face and was about to intervene but you politely waved her off, knowing that it wasn’t her drama to deal with.

“What can I get you, Marco?” your voice wasn’t nasty, but it wasn’t laden with the typical sweetness you used on other customers.

“Whatever’s good on tap tonight, sweetheart.”

“Don’t call me that,” you didn’t look at him as you grabbed a glass and picked a beer out of the tap lineup.

“That your new boyfriend?” he nodded towards Nestor as you handed him the glass.

“And if he is?” this conversation wasn’t going in a good direction, but you were trapped in it regardless.

“I was just wondering, because he’s spent an awful lot of the evening staring at you.”

“Could say the same about you,” you scoffed.

You went to walk away when he reached over the bar and grabbed your arm. His grip wasn’t tight, and you knew that the intention wasn’t to hurt you, just to get your attention, but you still had the overwhelming urge to bust his nose. You ripped your arm from his grip, taking a deep breath as you suppressed the desire to cause a scene.

You almost had no say in the matter, though, as Nestor materialized, placing his hands down hard on Marco’s shoulders, “Everything alright over here?”

Your eyes grew wide, not sure at all how this was going to play out. You could see the fear on Marco’s face, but you also knew that he was too proud and too stupid to back down from a fight, even if it was one he would definitely lose. He shrugged in an attempt to get Nestor’s hands off of his shoulders, “We’re fine.”

Nestor’s eyes zeroed in on you, practically begging you to give him the okay to do some damage, “All good, Y/N?”

Before you could answer, Marco spoke up again, “I said we’re fine.”

“I wasn’t fucking asking you,” Nestor’s voice was low but you could tell by the grimace on Marco’s face that he was definitely digging his fingers into his shoulders.

You nodded, “We’re good.”

Nestor released his grip and you could see Marco’s entire body relax. His gaze lingered on you for a moment and you nodded again to let him know that you could handle it. He didn’t say anything else as he made his way back down to where he had originally been sitting at the bar. His eyes never left the two of you though—you could feel his stare even though your back was to him.

“I figured you would’ve gone for a more warm and fuzzy type,” he tried to play it confidently but you could tell that he was shaken up.

You scoffed, “I’d leave while you still can. He decides to come back over again I won’t tell him to let you go.”

The color drained from Marco’s face, but he just couldn’t make himself smart enough to walk away, “Didn’t think you liked pushy guys.”

You braced your hands on your side of the bar and leaned forward slightly, “I don’t like guys who are pushy with me. Now, get the fuck out before you see how pushy he can really be.”

The second threat was enough to get through. He dropped money on the surface of the bar and left, leaving a full glass of beer behind. You chuckled to yourself as you brought the glass down and set it in front of Nestor. The two of you locked eyes for a moment but didn’t say anything about what had happened as you went about the rest of your evening.

You were cleaning up after your shift, once again it was just you, Jade, and Nestor. You and Jade were going back and forth about some of the ridiculous things that you had heard that night as you wiped down counters and tabletops. Nestor scrolled on his phone, a smile tugging at the edges of his mouth as he listened to the two of you.

When there was a lull in the conversation, he looked up and at you, “So, who was your friend that was here tonight?”

“Ah, he got to meet Marco,” Jade chuckled, shaking her head knowingly.

“Marco?” he raised his eyebrows.

You huffed, rolling your eyes, “Yea, Marco. With a capital M for mierda,” you let out a humorless laugh, “We dated a couple years back.”

“Still not over you?”

Jade interjected before you could, “Can you blame him?”

You smiled and shook your head, “I haven’t heard from him in a while. He pops up every now and then to see if he still has a shot. He never does. I turn him down, send him away, and the cycle repeats itself.”

“Too bad you didn’t have a Nestor sooner,” Jade was stacking glasses with a smug grin on her face, “Could’ve gotten rid of him a long time ago.”

“Nestor is not a bouncer for ex-boyfriends,” you laughed.

She laughed and shrugged, “It is a bonus though.”

You shook your head as the two of you finished up closing down the bar. While it was hectic sometimes when it was only the two of you, those were some of your favorite nights. You’d come to think of Jade more as an aunt or a second mother rather than your boss, and you liked the time you got to spend with her.

After getting home and letting Nestor check the house, the two of you took turns showering off the day. You were trying to figure out if Nestor just had multiple of the same sets of sweatpants and lounge shirts, or if he just washed the same set over and over again. You grabbed a fresh pint of ice cream out of the freezer and grabbed one for him too without bothering to ask, knowing that if you gave him the option he would always say no.

You set his down on the coffee table in front of him before taking a seat on the opposite end of the couch from him, giving him a little space. He looked back and forth between you and the ice cream with a slightly confused expression.

“A thank you for scaring off Marco,” you said with a smile as you scooped out a spoonful of your own.

“It’s my job.”

You raised an eyebrow, “That is not in your job description. He is not a threat to my father’s way of life, or mine for that matter. Now just eat the damn ice cream before I add doesn’t eat dessert to my Nestor Notes.”

He let himself smile as he picked up the pint of ice cream, “Thank you,” he took a spoonful, “And for future reference, my favorite flavor is mint chip.”

Your eyes grew wide,  mostly because he actually offered up a piece of personal information, but also at the fact that that was his favorite flavor, “Really? I don’t think I’ve ever met someone with that as their favorite.”

“Now you have,” he nodded before reaching for the controller to turn the TV on.

You chuckled to yourself as you settled back against the couch, pulling your legs up underneath you. You looked over at Nestor, who was slightly hunched over with his elbows resting on his knees. He had the controller in one hand, scrolling through shows, and his ice cream in the other. For a man who didn’t like music while he was driving in the car, he certainly did seem to see eye-to-eye with you when it came to always having the television on in the house for a light layer of background noise. Most of the time neither of you were paying super close attention to what was on, but it was just nice to break up the silence. In that moment, though, both of you felt extremely present.

“I’m one hundred percent eating this whole thing tonight,” you laughed, “It’s counting as dinner and dessert.”

He chuckled, “Sounds good.”

“We can go grocery shopping tomorrow and get real food,” you smiled as you kept your eyes glued to the container in your hands, “I’ll make sure to get you some mint chip.”

He nodded, smiling despite the fact that he wasn’t looking over at you, “I’d appreciate that.”

[chrwrites]

On Wednesdays We Wear Pink

This was written for the @lovebugs-and-snakecharmers 250 Follower Celebration, I picked prompt #25 from 50 Wordless ways to say "I love you": Wearing clothes in their favorite color.

warnings: Implied sexual content and fade to black

read on ao3

If there was something Luka Couffaine hated doing, that was doing the laundry.

Hanging the clothes out to dry wasn’t much of a problem, just like ironing or putting them away didn't bother him. But sorting through the clothes and separating them according to different fabrics and their colours? That was something he couldn’t do.

No matter how hard he tried, or how many times the amazing fashion designer he was dating showed him how to wash clothes the correct way and was patient enough to repeat herself countless times, Luka would always manage to mess something up.

Why couldn’t he just put all the clothes in the washing machine with some detergent and softener and just start it like he had always done before he started living with Marinette, anyway? The clothes came out fine.

Except, Marinette didn't think the same when he accidentally got her favorite sweater to shrink three sizes, and she officially discharged him from doing this annoying chore after she came home to find Luka struggling with yarn and knitting needles, trying to follow some online tutorial that would help him make her a new sweater to replace the one he damaged.

But now that Marinette would be away for a month, Luka didn't have the heart to let the clothes pile up and give her more work to do when she came back. He had to take care of it.

He sighed as he resentfully loaded the washing machine, only looking at his white clothes to make sure he didn't pick anything that would get them stained. He was almost finished when his hand landed on a small red garment that was definitely not his and distracted him from his task, the memories of the wonderful night spent after taking that small piece of clothing off his girlfriend flooding his mind.

God, he missed her.

His thoughts were interrupted by the phone ringing in the other room, and he scrambled to put the rest of the clothes inside the washing machine before he went to answer.

Marinette's cheerful voice greeted him, and Luka couldn't control the smile forming on his lips as soon as he heard her, “Hello, love. How's Milan treating you?”

He listened as she rambled about her day and told him about the challenges she had to face while working in another city, but the happiness and excitement in her voice made him smile along with her. He went back to the bathroom to set the washing machine in what he hoped was the right way, and started it.

“But enough talking about me,” Marinette said from the other side of the phone, ”I want to know what you've been up to.”

“Well,” Luka sighed, “Nothing much. Still working on the album. I've been trying to write, playing… Missing my muse...”

Marinette’s soft giggle rang in his ears, making his heart stutter the same way it did when they first met, “Aw, I miss you too,” she said, “I'll be back soon.”

“I know, it’s just not soon enough.”

“It’s only another week,” Marinette reminded, “then I’ll be back and I’ll be all yours.”

“I can’t wait.”

Smiling to himself, Luka set his phone down and grabbed his notebook and guitar. He settled on the couch and let the sudden rush of inspiration flow through his fingers to form a soft gentle melody that could do his love for Marinette justice.

He was so lost in the music that he forgot about the world around him, and when he heard a beep coming from the other room he jumped from the couch. He groaned when he realized that it was the washing machine signaling it was done, leaned his head to the back of the couch and closed his eyes to get his focus on the music back. The laundry could wait a little longer. But the beautiful rush of creativity that had previously caught him didn't seem to want to come back. Luka let out a helpless sigh and set his guitar aside, getting up to reach the source of the sound that disrupted his creative process.

Marinette had gotten so excited the first time she realized that their new washer also made sounds, and Luka still teased her for that sometimes. She would do a happy little dance whenever he heard the machine beeping, and as much as Luka loved to see her excited, he kinda hated that the stupid thing made sounds. What was the point of having a silent washing machine when it beeped when it was done?

So that you don't forget it, dummy.

The voice in his head sounded an awful lot like Marinette's, and it reminded him of his girlfriend getting up whenever that silly sound interrupted what they were doing. One moment, Marinette was resting her head on his shoulder, absently playing with Luka's hands as he hummed a soft melody in her ear; then, as soon as that damned washer beeped, she would abandon him.

“Can't it just wait?” he'd ask, and Marinette would laugh and tell him that they couldn't leave the clothes in the washing machine for long, “Otherwise they'll stink. I know, I know," he'd complain before lazily following her so that they could go back to what they were doing sooner.

“I swear, sometimes it looks like you love doing the laundry more than you love me.”

“You know that’s not true! I love doing you much more,” Marinette teased, making Luka struggle to keep his composure while he helped her hang the clothes, “You’ll be the death of me.”

Well, Marinette was going to kill him for real now.

Much to his horror, the first items he pulled out of the washing machine had turned a soft shade of pink.

“Shit,” Luka muttered under his breath. He pulled out more clothes, only to find that they all suffered from the same fate of the first ones. His t-shirts, his socks, his boxers were all pink.

How could that happen? He had paid attention this time, didn't he?

He sighed, tossing the now pink, old and ragged Jagged Stone t-shirt he didn't have the heart to throw away (much to Marinette’s annoyance) in the basket. At least he didn’t wash any of Marinette’s clothes, so he didn't have to worry about hearing her yell at him from another country for ruining her clothes as well. Maybe this time she would laugh when he’d tell her what happened to his clothes. Either way, there was nothing he could do about it now. 

He pulled out the last pieces from the washing machine, sighing when he found what caused his clothes to turn pink. Marinette’s polka dotted slips were of an apparently harmless bright red despite having tinted everything around them. At least it wasn’t totally his fault, he could blame it on his girlfriend’s underwear, couldn't he?

Marinette would have called him stupid and it would have ended there.

He let out a helpless sigh, opting not to try to find a solution for turning half of his wardrobe pink and hanging the clothes to dry instead.

What was some more pink in his life, anyway? His girlfriend was the epitome of pink and pretty, and he loved her for that. Even if he had to convince her not to buy all the pink home appliances she could find for their new apartment. She would complain, and he would kiss her adorable little pouts away before they went on looking for what they needed to make their new apartment feel like home. Two months living together and he still felt a little thrill of excitement whenever he was reminded that he was sharing the roof with the love of his life.

He couldn't really complain about some more pink in his life. He loved it.

Marinette greeted Luka with the warmest smile when she found him waiting for her at the airport. She ran into his arms, Luka’s chuckle ringing in her ear as he caught her and she wrapped her arms around his neck. They shared a long, sweet kiss.

He shivered when Marinette pulled away, his eyes still half lidded as he settled her down. Marinette traced slow patterns on his chest, biting down a teasing smile when she looked up at him, “Is this new? Pink really suits you,” she said, making Luka smile before he leaned for another kiss.

When they got home, his lips left hers only for the amount of time they needed to catch their breath. Luka ignored Marinette's gasp as he let her suitcase fall ungraciously on the floor and led her to the couch. She giggled when she fell on top of him and Luka’s arm wrapped around her.

“I missed you so much,” Marinette whispered, her bluebell eyes locking into his. His free hand reached to thumb her cheekbone, “Me too,” Luka said slowly.

Marinette snuggled close to his chest, her hand absently drawing patterns on his arm while Luka left soft kisses on her head from time to time, his hand brushing through her hair. They stood in comfortable silence, basking in each other's presence after so long of not being able to, sharing soft kisses and quiet laughs. 

Luka held her tighter, closing his eyes as he inhaled her sweet scent. Finally, their apartment felt like home again.

It was much later, when Marinette shifted and slipped away from his arms that Luka groaned, suddenly feeling cold. “Don’t go,” he whined, stretching his arms to grab her waist and pull her closer, “I didn't get enough of you.”

Marinette giggled, “When did you ever?” she asked rhetorically.

“Never?” Luka grinned proudly.

Marinette rolled her eyes, playfully slapping the hand resting on her hip. 

“I really have to unpack,” she said, struggling to be serious when she saw Luka’s pout, “Stay with me, please?” he asked.

Marinette managed to shim out of his hold and blew him a kiss before disappearing behind the door. Luka let out a lovesick sigh, getting up from the couch to follow her into their bedroom. 

“Thought you might need some help,” he said casually as Marinette opened her suitcase and took out her clothes.

“Just say you can’t stay away from me for one second,” Marinette teased. 

“Can you blame me?” Luka shrugged, “I have the most amazing girl by my side, and I want to–

Luka interrupted himself mid-sentence, noticing how Marinette's expression shifted into a frown when she opened the closet.

She put her clothes away, only to rummage a bit longer in the closet to pull out two pink t-shirts from Luka's side of the closet. 

She suppressed a giggle as she turned to look at his boyfriend, whose expression dropped.

“How come half of your closet has turned pink?” Marinette asked, letting the amused tone in her voice speak for her. 

“I…” Luka rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. Marinette raised an eyebrow as an invitation for him to confirm her suspicions, and Luka sighed in defeat.

“Fine, I messed up the laundry,” he could feel his cheeks grow warm at the confession, and he braced himself for any reaction from her.

“No way, I thought you got Rose so mad that she decided to colour all your clothes pink,” Marinette giggled, “Not that I'm complaining, you know how much I like pink, and it looks really good on you.”

“Oh really? You're not mad at me for messing up the laundry again?” he asked.

“It depends…” Marinette said, crossing her arms when she got up, “Tell me, Luka, did you ruin any of my clothes?”

Luka gulped, despite knowing he had nothing to worry about, Marinette looked quite menacing when things didn't go her way, “No.”

“Good,” Marinette smiled, satisfied with his answer, and closed the distance between them wrapping her arms around his neck, “I can fix these,” she said, eyeing at the clothes she dropped on the floor, but Luka shook his head.

“You don't have to.” 

“What?” Marinette asked, frowning in confusion.

“I wanted to take care of it so you didn’t have too much stuff to do when you came back. I don't want you to add more work to your list because of me,” Luka's thumb grazed her cheek gently. “Besides,” he added, his hands moving to her hips to pull her closer, “I like pink.”

Marinette smirked, “Don’t you think it will ruin your image, rockstar ?”

Luka shook his head, his smile brushing her lips, “Screw image, pink is very rock and roll.”

“That's why I like it so much,” Marinette's soft giggle died in her mouth when he kissed her, and she tilted her head to welcome him fully, allowing him to deepen the kiss.

Her hands made their way down his chest, pulling at the hem of his t-shirt, “As much as I like pink…” she purred, moving her lips to his ear and making Luka shiver, “I think you'd look better with this off...”

Luka didn't find Marinette sleeping in the bed next to him when he woke up. He yawned and stretched, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes before he got up and followed the unmistakable clattering of pans coming from the kitchen.

Marinette was standing near the stove, wearing nothing but the pink t-shirt he wore the previous night as she stirred something in a bowl.

He leaned against the door frame, not daring to disturb her and admiring her from his position instead. She was humming while she got the breakfast ready, a habit she picked from him, and Luka felt a familiar warmth spread in his chest. Sometimes he had to pinch himself to make sure he wasn't dreaming, that Marinette was really there by his side and loved him just as much as he loved her. Her sole presence lit up the darkest of corners, and Luka was lucky enough to be able to watch her shine without her light hurting his eyes. 

She squeaked when his hands squeezed her hips and he pulled her back against his chest, “Luka!” she scolded when he left a quick kiss on the exposed skin on her shoulder. He smiled and made her spin around so that she could face him, his ocean eyes bright with admiration. 

“You’re so beautiful,” Luka whispered, his voice still groggy from sleep.

Marinette let out a small laugh and put some distance between them to look up at him, “My hair is a mess, and I haven’t even had my coffee yet. You're only saying this because I'm wearing your clothes,” she countered playfully.

Luka chuckled and leaned in, “Not true, I'm saying this because I love you,” he whispered before pecking her lips, “And also because pink looks great on you.”

He kissed her again, deeper this time, making Marinette sigh on his lips before she reluctantly pulled away, “I love you too, but could we not have burned pancakes for breakfast?”

[writing-red]

from the dining table

draco malfoy x reader (mentions of harry potter x reader)

summary: You and Draco broke up and he is trying desperately to get in touch with you even though he knows exactly why you aren’t picking up the phone (song fic based on harry styles’ from the dining table)

request: @runninglownad​ hii! can i request a draco imagine based on from the dining table by harry? thanks sooo much <3

warnings: this is super angsty, breakup, toxic relationship, sad anger and drinking

a/n: I hope you enjoy!! and photo credit to @fixedunit​

word count: 2.1k

Woke up alone in this hotel room

Played with myself, where were you?

It was seven when Draco finally decided to stop fighting the insomnia. Thoughts of you claiming his mind and making him entirely unable to find sleep. The white hotel sheets were curled around him, pillows on the floor, broken glass shattered around him like an unholy halo, and the room in total disarray. He laid there, staring at the ceiling, unsure of what to do with himself, unsure of what to do with himself now that he had lost you. He so desperately wished that he could squeeze his eyes shut only to open them and find you laying there next to him, wishing desperately to see that incredible beaming smile of yours, the one that would turn your cheeks rosy red.

He rose from the bed and navigated around the mess on the floor to get to the bar in the room. With a heavy hand he poured himself a scotch, as he continued to think of you; the feeling of your lips on his, the lines of witty banter you always seemed to whip out of nowhere, and the idea that he may never hear the rasp of your voice in the morning again.

Fell back to sleep, I got drunk by noon

I’ve never felt less cool

He abandoned the glass dragged the bottle back to the bed, putting on the television as a distraction. He couldn’t seem to find a program that didn’t make him think of you, he couldn’t get the sound of your sweet and joyous laugh echoing through whatever space you held.

Tears streamed down his face as he downed the scotch, he felt like an absolute child. Crying over a girl, drinking, and sleeping. The pattern was pathetic and the last thing Draco Malfoy was, was pathetic. Yet it seems you could reduce him down to a blubbering child and all he would think of is how terribly he missed you, and how badly he wanted to smell your deep ambrosial perfume. By the time he woke up again the digital clock next to the bed was flashing 12:13 as if it was mocking him, goading him to wake up and get over himself. 

We haven’t spoke since you went away

Comfortable silence is so overrated 

Why won’t you ever be the first one to break?

Even my phone misses your call, by the way

Your voicemail, the one you had recorded with him, your voice was happy, and it sounded as if you would never be sad again.

“You’ve got Y/n” joyful, happy, in love. “I am buuuuusy and I am so very sorry I missed your call but shoot me a text or leave a voicemail after the beep and we shall speak at another time! Thanks.”

“Y/n, darling?” he muttered. “Look I know that I fucked up, and that you don’t want to talk but can we please just go get coffee, I want to see you, and I don’t want to end things on that note. Please, I know that we aren’t getting back together, I just, Y/n I need to see you.”

“You’ve got Y/n! I am buuuuusy and I am so very sorry I missed your call but shoot me a text or leave a voicemail after the beep and we shall speak at another time! Thanks,” Draco was mocked by the shrill beep that followed the sound of your voice.

“Hey, I’m sorry about all the voicemail’s and all of the text messages, if you don’t want to see me please just tell me so. Look I just, Y/n, I am miserable and I really just want to apologize for everything face to face. Please don’t just ignore me.”

“You’ve got Y/n! I am buuuuusy and I am so very sorry I missed your call but shoot me a text or leave a voicemail after the beep and we shall speak at another time! Thanks,” Draco listened solemnly as the voicemail played wishing this wasn’t the only way he could hear your voice.

“Look, I get it if you don’t want to talk to me, just, tell me yourself don’t just ignore me. Please,” he was desperate, to see you without tears streaming down your face, tears he had caused.

I saw your friend that you know from work

He said you feel just fine

I see you gave him my old t-shirt

More of what was once mine

Weeks past and Draco didn’t hear back from you. He knew that you were forcing him to move on and he didn’t want to accept it but he knew that he had no other choice. He was back to work, back to normal, although no matter what he did he couldn’t seem to get the thought of you out his head. He was drinking, more than usual, smoking more than usual, and he had destroyed his fair share of hotel rooms. It was time for him to start living his life again.

You had always loved coffee, going to coffee shops, trying out different drinks, people watching, you had made the whole ordeal a habit for Draco and now it was a way for him to hold onto you. He thought that if he was lucky enough he’d catch you at one of them.

Today he went before work, luckily he had skipped the morning coffee shop rush and there were just a few other people inside the shop.

“I’ll have a black drip coffee, and a croissant,” he said, handing the barista money.

“Here’s your change, and it’ll all come up at that bar over there,” she said gesturing to the end of the bar.

“Thanks,” Draco said kindly as he stepped over to where the barista had gestured to wait for his order.

“Malfoy,” he heard a familiar voice.

“Potter,” Draco said, surprised to see the man you had both gone to school with, and who you now worked with.

“Nice to see you, what have you been up to recently” Harry asked him.

“Just work,” Draco observed Harry, the man he had always been so jealous of, for a moment when his eyes caught something similar. “That’s a bit of a posh shirt for you isn’t it?”

“Ah- it was in Y/n’s flat, I mean she gave it to me because it was in her flat and it’s my size and all that.”

“Got it. I think that’s mine,” he said, his eyes still on the shirt as the barista placed his coffee and pastry on the bar in front of them. “Tell Y/n I say hi?”

“Sure thing mate, she’s uh doing pretty alright,” Harry offered and Draco nodded, swiftly exiting the coffee shop refusing the urge to start crying over you again.

I see it’s written, it’s all over his face

Comfortable silence is so overrated

Why won’t you ever be the first one to break?

Even my phone misses your call, by the way

Potter. You had to choose Potter of all the men you knew to sleep with. It was as if you were trying to hurt him, trying to drive the knife further into his heart. That night Draco proceeded to call you all of thirteen times, four of the calls sober, and the other nine varying levels of drunk until he finally blacked out.

All he wanted was to hold you one more time, to hear you talk over a movie, shout out the lyrics to some old Bon Jovi song, watch you dance atop your kitchen table, you were always the perfect antagonist to silence and now it seemed that silence was all he could hear. People would speak to him and he couldn’t hear it, he would try and remember the sound of you, your singing, your voice, your laugh, but his memories of you were only pictures.

Maybe one day you’ll call me and tell me that you’re sorry too

But you, you never do

The ringer on his phone was always on, and when it buzzed he picked it up as quickly as a man could. Although, he was routinely disappointed to find that it was either Blaise, his boss, his mum, or a hotel calling to let him know of the damages done and the charges he would incur. But it didn’t matter, none of those calls mattered because they weren't you.

He just wanted you back, and all he could do was call and call, while picturing you lying in Harry Potter’s arms. You had chosen to be with Potter, and you had chosen to leave Draco, and Draco just couldn’t cope with your choices.

Woke up the girl who looked just like you

I almost said your name

He didn’t know this ones name, and he didn’t know the last one’s name. These girls that circled through his bed, each of them vaguely resembling you in one way or another. Today he awoke to seeing your nose, and your hair on someone else. Sleeping with these women upset him more than it comforted him, but it was at least something to do with himself.

“Y/-” he stopped himself. “Hey, I’ve got to go to work.” He said, shaking the girl awake.

“Can’t I just leave after you?” She groaned, her eyes still closed.

“No, get up,” Draco said as he got out of bed and pulled the duvet off of her. “Now,”

“Fine, I’m going,” she said, taking her time to draw herself up. “And I promise I won’t be back.”

And there she went, another person lost whether he wanted her or not. All he knew how to do was drive people away. He didn’t want to get over you, ever since your trip to New York you had been the love of his life. But now he resolved to living his life as a ghost, constantly in terrible silence without you.

Comfortable silence is so overrated

Why won’t you ever be the first one to break?

Even my phone misses your call, by the way

Taglist -  @sarcasticallywitty15​​ @fred-love-bot​​

[fakeloveaskblog]

Yay lasertag!!! Janus you should totally go visit Remus on the weekend and hang out! Also, maybe invite Remy too, if they wanna come. Then (specially if they don't show) you can plan with them both to maybe go on another hangout with Remus but to somewhere you like and let Remy tag along for the ride if they wanna while u're at it.

(Words: 3153 words)

Janus: "Ah yes! I will let you know that after hanging out with Remus I managed to use my incredible totally very good texting skills to ask the Rems if they wanted to go to an art museum and they both for some reaosn, maybe they are being blackmailed, said yes! I hope it will go g-"

He cut himself off as he saw the two Rems come towards him. He had been waiting outside the museum. (Honestly half the reason he had choosen it was because he knew Remus liked art)

Remus waved at him while grinning. He had on sweatpants, a way too large t-shirt and a necklace made out of animal bones. Remy had their arm swung around him. Even though they had sunglasses on their eyebags were still visible.

“Aight gamers! Are we ready to do an epic art heist!! I got my sunglasses ready!” Remus exclaimed. He didn’t, he was planning on stealing Remy’s sunglasses.

“Partner you’re forgetting that we must first observe the security measures of the museum before we can even start to plan the heist” Janus replied.

“Oh!!! That’s what we’re doing today isn’t it??”

“Correct partner!”

“Babes I dunno why you gotta steal art when I’m standing right here” Remy added while posing.

“Good point. Good point” 

Janus had on a yellow bowtie he’d gotten from Logan, a loose purple shirt and black dress pants. People had to look fancy when they went to museums right? Remy had a skirt short enough to fool god and their boyfriend’s hoodie on (it looked oversized on them but with how skinny they were Everything looked oversized on them).

As soon as they got in Remus started to bounce up and down as he looked at the posters showing all the different exhibitions. There was a modern art one, classical and one smaller exhibition for specifically mosaic works.

“So whatcha you wanna look at Snakey?” Remus asked.

Janus was caught of guard “Why are you asking me?”

“Well you chose how we would hang out. C’mon you deserve to choose this too”

He looked over to Remy who shrugged “Uhm okay. Well. The classical paintings would proably give us the most money on the black market so lets look at those”

“Yay!” 

Remus quickly took on his noise canceling headphones and a chew necklace before doing thumbs up. He firmly took Janus’ hand in his. He sent him a soft smile which made Jan’s heart spin before dashing of with him into the exhibition.

A few big paintings from the renaissance hung on the wall. Remy came a little later since with the cane they walked pretty slow. Remus eyed the paintings from a distance before squinting at them up close. He flapped the hand he was hoding Janus with around.

"Oh!!! This is so cool!!!! This is from the renaissance but it's not using the chiaro oscuro technique like everyone did 'cause Da Vinci would eat their newborn if they didnt!”

"Is that why it's looking flatter than me?" Remy asked.

“YEah!! Augh I love the renaissance!!! Mostly because they were dissecting bodies so much!! sometimes for the sole purpose of drawing anatomy better!! I wanna do that! Or watch someone do that! Getting to see one of those old classrooms where they dissected corpses would be so awesome!”

“Huh good way to get rid of bodies. Great time for serial killers” Janus commented.

He let out a dreamy sigh “It truly was. They’re doing serial killers dirty nowadays”

They went through some more rooms of renaissance paintings. Janus made sure to hold Remus back a bit so Remy could keep up with them. The duke kept rambling about different shading techniques.

They stepped into another room and the style changed. Remus continued to flap his hand nonetheless. Janus was definitely going to have pain in his wrist tomorrow. It was worth it if he could hold his hand though.

Remy leaned their elbow on top of Janus’ head “This is like the baroque time right?”

“YEah!” Remus’ eyes went huge “Bean you didn’t tell me you were into art history??! Do you know about Ruben too?? I like how he paints butts!”

“What? Nah. I just- I can like see it on the clothes in the paintings. Can’t you?”

“Do I look like a time traveling fashiong guru” Janus replied sarcastically “That is honestly impressive”

Remy sunk in on themself and a hint of red appeared on their cheeks “No. Nah. I’m like a total airhead! Completel idiot! hehe I’m like tots sure everyone knows this stuff. Y’all are just bad at fashion. I uh anyway Rem you were gonna rant?”

“I was?”

“Yeah!”

“Oh....Okay!!” He looked around the room before getting caught on a small painting in the corner. He dashed over to it “HANds!”

The painting depicted 2 bloody hands over a table. They were holding onto each other. the red stuck out against the dark background. It was hard to see if they were supposed to belong to two people who were fighting or in love.

Remus looked down at Janus’ hand while playing with his fingers “I think my favorite body part are hands” He mumbled “I mean they’re horseshit to draw but they can do so much”

Janus looked away from the painting as well. He let his crush do whatever he wanted with his hand as long as he kept holding it. the way he held him so lightly but kept rubbing his thumb up and down his skin made him melt.

“Yeah they can do a lot of fucked up shit” Remy butted in. Jan nearly jumped. He’d completely lost himself in adoring his crush.

“Well hands can also be used to give snakes small berries! And to make coffee!”

“Girl I wasn’t starting an argument. But you sure did won it!”

Remus was staring down into the floor as he said “When I become a cannibal I would wanna try eating human fingers first. I’m sure they would be tasty”

“Why was there a when in there?” Jan asked in a small amount of terror.

“Oh yeah babe totally. I will like actually eat a dick” Remy agreed.

“Why is there a will in there? What kind of time tenses are you people on?? Does english grammar mean nothing to you heathens!?”

Remy got a smug look on their face. They poked their finger right into Janus’ chest “C’mon say what you will eat when you become a cannibal”

“Yeah Snakey” Remus squished his cheeks “Say it! Say it! Say it!”

The two of them kept going on while Janus looked like a sour lemon until he finally caved in.

“Fine. I would either eat the stomach or....the buttocks since they would have the most fat and sustain me the longest”

The Rems looked at each other before bursting out into laughter. “He said butT!” Remus cackled out. The other Rem nodded along and pretended to wipe away a tear from laughter.

“Aight babe let’s put the guy out of his misery” 

They motioned for Remus to go ahead. He happily skipped into the next room and grabbed Jan’s hand to take him with him. The snake couldn’t help but notice how Remy stayed behind for a monent.

“Oh cool!! We’re onto impressionism! The first real art style!” He sighed “From impressionism to cartoon furries. How magical the journey of art is” 

(Jan who had a scaley phase in high school chose to not reply)

“I love the music as well. Crazy lads. My favorite lad?” Remus snickered “De bussy!!”

“That’s my porn name” Remy instantly replied, coming up behind them. “Hey that paint lady kinda like looks like Terra” They pointed at a painting.

“....Hey YEaH! I guess my art is timeless!”

Janus looked between them “who’s Terra?”

“Well girl” Remy playfully ruffled Remus’ hair “She’s just Rem’s tots cool like cartoon character. She’s like all over his sketchbook. Makes it look kinda straight if you ask me but she does have like a very cool design so I get it!”

“Oh......Yes...Sounds very....cool”

The group kept going around looking at art. While it felt like lead was filling Janus’ chest. He’d never heard about Terra. He’d never seen his sketchbook. Meaning they had spent time with each other without him.

He pierced his nails into his palms to stop the thoughts. He refused to be some jealous person who didn’t allow his friends to hang out without him.....Still he wish he could have seen the drawings as well....seen them smile together...heard their shared laughter....

Oh. Oh what if they thought he was annoying. What if they preferred being without him. What if he’d forced them to come here today. What if-

“Hey snakey wanna look at the modern art as well?” Remus interrupted.

“What?” 

Without realizing they’d gone through all of the classic art. Now they were in the last room with not much more than a giant painting the size of one of the walls and a bench.

“That sounds horrid!”

“Yay!”

Remus quickly continued of into the next exhibition. Janus still had the taste of lead filling his throat as he went to follow. Until he realized Remy wasn’t there. He turned around and saw them sitting on the bench in front of the painting. They were leaning their arms on their cane.

“It would probably give us a lot on the black market” Jan said while sitting down beside them.

“Mhm. It’s pretty. I just like wanted to look at it some more” They lied.

“Understandable” 

The painting was pretty much a big flower field with a summer sky shining down on it. Janus noticed how Remy forced deep breathes through their gritted teeth. Their brows were furrowed and their hands kept shaking.

“Are you alright?”

“Of course!” 

“I have some painkillers with me. Would that help agains the pain you’re totally not in?”

They glanced over to him “Girl what you doing walking around with painkillers?”

He looked at them with the most deadpan expression “Remy I’m overweight. You can not phantom how often I get knee pain" He took out a pill and held it out to them "Here"

"There's really like no need! I can like handle it"

Even more deadpan "You shouldn’t have to ‘handle it’. It's 1 painkiller dear. I'm not exactly becoming a saint because of this"

They hesitantly took it "Thanks"

He did fingerguns "No problemo"

They stayed sitting for a bit so the pill could kick in. Jan shuly glanced over to admire them every now and then. Remy kept looking down into the floor while picking at their skin.

“I’m sorry” They said it in a much quieter voice than their usual high pitched one “I tried to do everything right so I wouldn’t ruin everything. I even went to bed early so I wouldn’t get tired....I...I really looked forward to getting to be with you two”

Janus heart beat faster. He pulled himself together to comfort them “You haven’t ruined a thing”

They hid their face in their hands “I’ve been tired and out of it all day. I keep like slowing you down. Don’t think I haven’t like noticed how much you have to hold Rem back from going faster! I’ve just been making this all much worse than it should have been”

“Well you’re here aren’t you? I for one appreciate you simply being here. You don’t have to do anything to make me appreciate you, don’t even have to talk. I hope you know that”

“....really?”

“Oh no darling I totally expect you to win the nobel prize while in a kind of pain I can’t even imagine being in on a daily basis”

Remy chuckled “Thanks”

“There’s really no need for that. I am at any and all times doing the absolute minimum to be counted as a decent human being”

“Sure snakey-babey” They had a soft smile on their face.

They moved to hug him. Their arms wrapped around his back and they muffled their head right between his man titties. Janus sat still for a few seconds, too flustered to think before moving his arms around them as well. A hand on the back of their head, another on their lower back. Their skin felt so cold against his.

Remy closed their eyes and let themself calm down. They could feel Janus’ breathing against their hair.

“I think my fav like human part is the chest” They mumbled out “‘Cause I can hear the heart beat. It reminds me I’m- we’re still like alive”

“Like a bloody biological seashell”

“Exactly” They pressed themself closer. “I like being with you” It was nothing more than a whisper, like it was a secret “When you’re here I feel a bit less like a rotting corpse”

Janus held onto them harder “Well I-I try my best”

“I know babe”

His heart was beating out of his chest. The people around them must think they were a couple. He closed his eyes and focused on Remy’s touch, on Picani’s words from their last session. He managed to push enough of the shame away and focus on the happy butterflies in his stomach instead.

Remy moved away. The moment broke.

“We should probs go find Rem before he starts like eating the art”

“haha yeah” Janus did thumbs up but kept sitting. He’d gone full idiot.

It wasn’t until he saw Remy straining to stand up even with the cane his brain kicked back in.

“Is there some way I could help?”

They didn’t answer. But they did lean their arm around his shoulder to let him carry some of their weight. They slowly but surely made their way to the modern art exhibition.

Remus was sitting crosslegged in front of a weird statue, he was doodling in his sketchbook but shone up into a smile when he saw them.

“There you are! I was starting to think that either the zombie apocalypse had started or you were making out somehwere”

“Oh yeah babe. Full tounge” Remy joked back. Jan let out an inhumane noise.

He closed his sketchbook “I think we’re done here. You’re looking tired beanie. We can come back some other day”

Remy held back the urge to lie that they were fine. Instead they weakly nodded.

The gang left the museum. Right beside it was an ice cream shop. Remus got 3 scoops of a worryingly weird mix of flavors. Janus got 1 scoop of lemon. Remy didn’t feel like eating.

They sat down on a couple of benches right outside. Remy laid down with their head leaned onto Remus’ thigh. He chewed his ice cream while calmly moving his hand up and down their back.

Soon enough they were deep asleep. Janus quickly laid his jacket over their legs. He didn’t want to accidentally see anything under their skirt without their consent.

Remus stared at him like a blood sucking eagle while smiling “Soooo now when beanie is in dream land.......Do” He stopped to giggle “Janny. Janny. Do. Do you like someooooonnneee??”

Janus just blinked at him for half a minute. This was too much. This whole day was too much. He was a wreck. His crush was asking him THis?! While his other crush was laying in his crush’s lap?!?

“Why- Why- What- Who are you working for?! The fucking FBI??? Are they after me?” He desperately tried to joke it away.

“No. No. But seriously JanJan!” He wiggled his shoulders around in a stimmy way “Do you happen to like anyone with a name that starts on R????”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Janus kept glancing between his two crushes while his blushing could be seen out into space. He wanted to lie but his mouth wouldn’t move.

Remus leaned closer and whispered “You’re into Remy right?”

He nodded. A breathe of relief went through him. At least Remus didn’t know he liked him.

“OH I KNEW IT!” Remus yelled out in excitement while flapping his hands.

“Shh! Shh!” Janus scrambled to cover his mouth as Remy stirred for a moment. “Shhhh!” They cuddled closer to their friend and fell back asleep.

“I knew it!” He giggled “Or I mean Remy knew. They told me they thought you were into them”

“WHAT?!” 

Now it was Remus that covered his mouth. He was full on cackling “Yeah! They said it was really obvious! But good for you snakey! I’m sure if you murder their boyfriend you can get them in no time! Or you can become a fab homewrecker!! I can help you buy a nice sexy dress and all!!”

Janus paled in terror “How- In- What- In what way did they say it was obvious?”

“Oh y’know-”

The notif on his phone went off. He checked and his eyes went wide. He carefully moved Remy’s head onto the bench before standing up.

“Sorry snakey! Ro needs super duper emergency help! Gotta go!! See you later! Don’t die!”

Remus left him just like that.  Right after dropping THAT bomb on him. Janus sat unmoving. His mouth was slightly agape in shock. His thoughts were runnig around screaming nonstop.

He sat like that for over 20 minutes until Remy let out a yawn and slowly woke up. They took off their sunglasses to rub their eyes. Just seeing their vibrantly green eyes made Janus panic even more.

“Did Rem disintegrate?” Their voice was hoarse from sleepyness. Janus pinched himself to hold back the uhm feelings.

“He- he uh he went he went he sure did went yeah”

“....Cool!”

They stretched their joints, they all cracked. They looked to Janus and moved closer. He couldn’t breathe. They knew. They knew. They knew.

“Girl are you feeling okay?” They pressed their palm to his forehead “You’re like super hot. In both ways! Maybe you should like go home and rest. I gotta get home before my boyf gets home anyway”

“Y-yeah” Was all Janus could get out.

“Cool. OH! By the way! Girl!!! We haven’t like hung out just the two of us right?? We should tots do that! Just like tell me whatever you wanna do and we can do it!”

“Yeah”

“Awesome! Well I’ll see you on that hang out then”

They hugged him for just a few seconds but for those seconds Janus felt like he was in heaven.

They got up and left. Janus slumped over on the bench. His heart was going crazy. They knew. They knew and now they wanted to hang out alone with him. He turned to you. His eyes were wide and panicked.

Janus: “W-what am I supposed to do? I don’t know any good hang out plans! Do you know any??? I’m- this is all- how did they even know I like them! Oh I’m sounding like an overdramatic 13 year old.....This totally isn’t really overwhelming. I would hate getting Logan cuddles right now!”

[explosionshark]

how to live here!

here's a special deleted scene that was supposed to go in one of the chapters after rachel and chloe start fighting, but i never really found a place where it made sense. but i always liked it too much to delete it.

The first time Chloe had talked about hanging out in a junkyard, Max had kind of assumed she’d been joking.

She’s been here a few times already since her return to Arcadia Bay, but the novelty of it still hasn’t worn off. Chloe doesn’t seem to mind, letting her wander off, camera in hand, to explore and take photos by herself until she’s halfway through a roll of film and finally satisfied.

Max lets the sound of breaking glass lead her back to Chloe and snaps one more picture. Chloe, broken off hockey stick poised at the highest arc of a big swing, aimed at the sun-bleached head of a mannequin perched atop a splintered milk crate like a fucked up golf ball on a tee.

The arc of the swing is completed. The head goes flying with a sharp crack, landing in a pile of scrap a few feet away. Chloe holds the stick up over her head and cheers.

“You get that, Max?” she calls over her shoulder. “One for the highlight reel.”

“Got it,” Max confirms, reaching up to withdraw the Polaroid as it’s ejected from the camera. She closes the distance between them to show Chloe the shot.

“Sick,” Chloe says, and then twirls the stick in her fingers. “Y’know, I never used to allow press in here before, but maybe that was a mistake. A few more like that and maybe I can finally catch some attention from the big leagues.”

“I can’t imagine they can ignore skills like yours for very long,” Max grins, leaning up on her tiptoes and craning her neck to try to spot the mannequin head in the garbage.

Chloe grins again and mimes another swing. “Wanna take a shot? Ride out my hot streak?”

“I’m good,” Max says.

Chloe nods and shrugs and swings again abruptly, for real, putting the end of the hockey stick through the screen of a boxy old TV on the ground suddenly and loudly enough to make Max jump.

“You sure?” She props a boot on the corner of the TV to hold it in place as she yanks the stick loose. “It’s hella cathartic. You’ve always struck me as having more rage than you’re willing to own up to.”

“Do I really?” Max asks, a little alarmed.

“Maybe I’m projecting,” Chloe concedes.

They wander further, Max trailing behind as Chloe beats the ever-loving shit out of anything even vaguely breakable in her path.

“Remember when you actually played?” Max asks, after the fifteenth minute of uninterrupted smashing.

Chloe pauses, turning on her heel and drawing the bandage on her arm across her forehead to wipe away a bead of sweat. “Oh hell yeah. They called me The Destroyer.”

“No they didn’t,” Max rolls her eyes. “Only you called yourself that.”

“Me and both our dads,” Chloe points out. “Yours even made a sign.”

“Oh yeah,” Max laughs. “Y’know, I think you were the hockey hooligan kid he always wanted. I couldn’t tell if he was disappointed or relieved when I quit the team.”

Her dad was a huge hockey fan and had been elated when she and Chloe had agreed when he showed them the newspaper ad he’d found seeking players for the local youth hockey team. William and their mothers had been a little more hesitant, Max remembered, but no one enough to really object to their joining.

Chloe took to it immediately, aggressive, competitive, and already more naturally athletic than Max had ever been. Max’s tenure was only a week long, but she’d remained a devoted fan of the team long after, going along with her parents to every game, home and away.

“Relieved, I think,” Chloe speculates. “You were a really small twelve year old.”

“I was appropriately sized for twelve,” Max protests. “You were tall.”

“Pint-sized,” Chloe teases. “Microscopic. Besides, you never had the heart for it. The bloodlust.”

“I liked the skating part. But yeah, you always had more fun with it than me. Did you ever get back to sports?”

Chloe shakes her head, quick and jerky, almost offended. “I never liked sports. I liked hockey ‘cause you guys would always come to my games and stuff. But then…after…”

Chloe missed the first couple weeks of practice, after William had died. It was Max’s dad that got her to go back, at Joyce’s insistence, hoping that the sport could be an outlet, that trying to preserve as much normalcy as possible would help Chloe deal with her grief.

Max and her dad had stayed in the bleachers through that first practice without William. Chloe’s play had been sloppier, and she’d left the ice early, face splotchy and red, thick hot tears running down her face into her jersey. It hadn’t gotten easier from there. It made sense that Chloe had stopped going entirely once Max’s family had moved.

“Anyway, can you even imagine me playing for Blackwell?” Chloe scoffs, brings the hockey stick down on the windshield of an old beat up car. The first blow sends a spiderweb of cracks all through the glass. The second penetrates, a small, fist-sized hole. The third, fourth, and fifth obliterate it completely.

Max closes her eyes, chases the images of a young, grief-stricken Chloe from her mind with this new fantasy. Chloe, hair undyed, strutting through the halls in a red and white letterman jacket. Chloe doing keg stands with Logan and Zach. Chloe with girls like Victoria and Juliet hanging off her arms. Chloe completely and totally ignoring a nerd like her.

“Okay, it’s a little weird,” Max admits, feeling a little embarrassed for the irrational churning in her gut. “You’ve never really been a joiner, huh?”

“Organized sports are so not punk rock,” Chloe says obnoxiously.

“It’s kind of hard to imagine you at Blackwell at all,” Max admits. “I wish I’d come back sooner. Y’know, before you left.”

Chloe’s quiet and Max knew it was a risk to go there at all, but it feels too true to keep to herself so she keeps speaking.

“I didn’t choose to be gone, but,” is it brave or stupid to do this now, actually? Has Chloe been waiting for an apology or will this just make things needlessly awkward and uncomfortable and painful? “I mean I wish I’d handled it differently. That we’d talked more while I’d been away.”

“Yeah,” Chloe shrugs. It feels like Max is on the verge of losing her, so she hurries on before the silence between them stretches too far.

“Can I be honest with you?” Max asks, stomach twisting in knots.

Chloe raises an eyebrow and nods for her to continue.

“I kind of thought,” she pauses and winces. “I mean, I was a little afraid that after I left you just. Wouldn’t want anything to do with me. That you’d replace me.”

��Max, what the fuck?” Chloe lets the words out in a harsh exhale and Max knows that tone of voice. Knows she’s pissed off for real, now.

“I know,” Max cringes, scrubbing a hand down her face. “But, I mean, you were always the cool one, right? And you were going into high school and I was still sleeping with a teddy bear and—”

“This is such bullshit,” Chloe’s voice cracks and Max was not expecting that. “You’re not just— You can’t just replace a best friend! I fucking needed you. I was so… I needed you so much and you hung me out to dry because you were scared I’d stop thinking you were cool?”

“No,” Max hurries to clarify, feeling appropriately breathless for the desperate, drowning sensation overwhelming her. “No, not like that. I just… I didn’t know how to handle it. So, I just kept putting it off, y’know? Like with homework. Remember how many times my mom had to bail me out because I’d wait too long on finishing a project and it wouldn’t be ready by the due date? Only no one could bail me out this time. And the longer I waited, the worse I felt, the more sure I was that you hated me, that you’d scream at me and tell me to stay out of your life. And I was too scared to face that so I…”

“I never hated you,” Chloe says, face caught somewhere between fury and despair. “Fuck, for the longest time all I wanted was to leave here, to be where you were instead.”

“The night you called me,” Max cuts in gently, proud at least when her voice doesn’t shake, “when you tried to run away, I was so scared for you. And I felt guilty because I realized I was wrong, that you still wanted to be my friend, and I knew I didn’t deserve it. I cried myself sick on the ride down with my mom to pick you up. It really freaked her out. But when we got there you just hugged me and you let me hold your hand the entire way back to Arcadia Bay.”

Chloe stays silent, chewing her lip hard enough to make Max wince.

“And even after, even though we were talking again the entire time I was away I’d think about being back here instead. I think about all the years I missed with you and I get mad because it feels kind of like my fault. Like if I’d tried harder it wouldn’t have taken this long. But I can’t fix that now, I know, I’m just glad we’re here now.”

Chloe shakes her head, rough, and throws the beat up hockey stick into a pile behind her. “Max, you fucking—”

She cuts herself and stomps over and Max isn’t sure what she was expecting, but she’s definitely surprised when Chloe wraps her arms around her, drags her close until there’s almost no space between them.

As tight as the hug is, Chloe’s hands hovering over her back are gentle. She’s quiet but her breathing’s rough. It takes a long time for her to speak again; when she does her voice is shaky, quiet. “I never, ever hated you, but I was pissed at you for a really long time.”

“I’m sorry,” Max tries to say but Chloe squeezes her tighter until she falls quiet.

“I got tired of it,” Chloe says. “And it wasn’t fair, either. Not really. We were just kids. God, I fucked so many things up so much worse than that. You don’t know how bad. If you did, you’d think I’m so pathetic. You’d hate it.”

“Chloe Price, you’re so many things, but pathetic has never been one of them,” Max insists, a little startled by the steel in her voice. Chloe tenses in her arms, but doesn’t move away so Max continues, gentler, “I wish I’d been here more. I know you weren’t alone the whole time but still, if I could go back and change anything it’d be trying harder to be a bigger part of your life. It’d be not letting it take so long to get here.”

It’s stupid, she knows, it’s ridiculous to think she could have prevented any of the hard knocks Chloe had taken in her absence but the thing is she’ll never know and Max thinks that she’ll probably always feel responsible somehow.

“God, imagine if we’d had a few years together at Black-Hell,” Chloe says and releases her, finally. She stays close, pushes some hair out of Max’s face. “We would have gotten into so much trouble. Me, you and…” She trails off with a wince but doesn’t linger. “You could have cheated off my science papers. I’d trade you rides around the Bay for homework.”

“Hey,” Max laughs. “Presumptuous. How do you know I would have compromised my morals like that?”

“Oh, you would have,” Chloe says, laugh all low and breathy. “When have you ever been able to say no to these baby blues?”

She bats her lashes facetiously, but the blush staining Max’s face is very real. “Okay, whatever. What else would we have done?”

“Oh, pranks,” Chloe says. “No doubt. We would have pranked it up so hard on those nerds. I always had this idea about semi-permanent hair dye and Victoria’s shampoo bottles, but I never lived in the dorms. And for some reason, Rachel refuses to be my inside man on this one.”

“I’d be down,” Max blurts out, not sure what the sudden pained look on Chloe’s face could have been leading to, but desperate to head it off.

“Wait, for real?” Chloe asks, appropriately distracted and Max realizes suddenly that her hypothetical assent to collusion had just been offered in practice.

“Uh, I mean—”

“No take-backs,” Chloe crows, gleefully. “Holy shit, dude, yes. Okay, I’ve got it worked out pretty well, this is something I’ve been sitting on for a few years at least. First, we’ll need a distraction…”

Chloe’s plan is elaborate, but thorough, and by the time she’s done laying out the details Max isn’t sure she’ll be able to follow through, but she does know that whatever lingering doubts about their friendship she’d had this morning were founded in one-sided insecurity.

“Let me sleep on it,” she says, finally.

“Max,” Chloe whines. “You promised.”

“I did not.”

“I mean, practically.”

“No, I didn’t.”

It’s almost like being a kid again, arguing about something pointless under the midday sun, a little dehydrated but having too much fun together to do something sensible like go back inside. Max has missed this for so long.

She’s deliriously happy she won’t ever have to miss it again.

[sluttyten]

Hi!!! Could I ask for the “You can’t leave without letting me hug you first.” and “Wait, don’t pull away… Not yet.” with Doyoung? Please? (this is up to you: but if it could be with a chubby/plus size reader it would mean a lot to me). Thank you so much for your time.

I love your writing 💞💞💞

The relationship you had with Doyoung was a long and complicated one. Your families were friends, and when you were younger your families had often met up for holidays—celebrating the New Year together, birthdays, the lunar new year, even going on summer trips together occasionally—so you were rather close.

As you grew up, it wasn’t that your families grew apart, just that schedules grew busier and your families couldn’t see each other as much. But when you were fifteen you celebrated the New Year together for the last time, and you and Doyoung snuck off together with a bottle of wine no one would miss, and you’d sat together in the park nearby, passing the bottle back and forth and waiting for midnight to strike.

You never learned if it was the wine or just an impulse decision or what caused it, but at the stroke of midnight as the country celebrated the calendar turning over, Doyoung kissed you.

It had taken you totally by surprise, and you’d run away, embarrassed and ecstatic and overwhelmed that Doyoung had kissed you.

But you didn’t see too much of him again after that, not for a few years, by which point he was taller and much more filled out and more handsome. Your mother had told you about Doyoung growing up, how handsome he’d grown. And the way she said it made it sound like he’d grown from being awkward to handsome, and you just wanted to tell her that he’d always been handsome. But then you finally saw him.

And damn. She was right.

Handsome Doyoung of the past was gone and now he was just....

“Wow,” you gasp under your breath when Doyoung walks through the door of his parents home.

For the first time in ages your families are getting together. Your whole family and Doyoung’s parents and brother and himself. It hasn’t been this way in many years.

Doyoung’s gaze lands on you, and immediately you feel your face grow a little warmer. You tug at your clothes, trying to get a little air on your suddenly hot skin, and also just trying to make sure it’s laying right. Before you’d left home, your mother had clucked at you and suggested you change, but you liked your outfit so you kept it on.

But now with Doyoung looking at you while he looks like that, you almost wish you’d changed.

And then his face breaks out in the huge, familiar warm smile of his, and he says your name. Instantly the cool handsomeness of him now melts away and he’s just young, dorky handsome Doyoung again.

You’re all together to celebrate Doyoung’s dad’s birthday, so there’s much talking and celebrating, then dinner and cake and presents and more laughter and toasting, and throughout it all you keep looking over at Doyoung, amazed at how much he’s changed in the last few years, wondering what he thinks about how you’ve changed or if you’ve changed at all in his eyes.

After a bit you excuse yourself to use the bathroom. You’re not gone for long at all, but as you start to return to the table, you see Doyoung’s not seated there with everyone else anymore and your heart sinks, thinking that maybe he’s left. You know he doesn’t live wi to his parents anymore; he lives in an apartment across the city. So you don’t return to the table, instead you wander back down the hallway.

This house once was as familiar to you as your own. When you were much younger, before puberty hit, you spent many nights having sleepovers here with Doyoung. And even now your feet tread the path to Doyoung’s bedroom.

As you stand in the doorway, you realize the room isn’t empty. Doyoung’s sitting on the bed, looking at some photos he has stuck to the wall.

“Doyoung?” Your voice seems so loud in the tranquility of his room.

He looks over at you. “Oh, hey. Look, I forgot I had these up here.” He points at the wall, and you step inside his room, move around to see the wall where he’s pointing. It’s an array of photos from his childhood. Pictures from school, from theatre, of you and him with your arms around each other’s necks.

“When’s this from?” You step closer, touching one photo you don’t remember being taken. The pair of you sitting on a swing set together, his arm looped around one chain of your swing to keep you both held together. You’re laughing with your eyes squeezed shut, and Doyoung’s smiling at the camera in his hand.

“New Years.” Doyoung answers easily. “You were so giggly and cute. I took it when you weren’t paying attention.” He stands up and when he’s beside you, you can suddenly feel the memories rushing back to you, can feel the best of the alcohol in your veins on that cold night, the thrill of sneaking out together and the joy of being with Doyoung. And then the kiss.

“I’d better get back to the table.” You say quickly. “I think my family’s about to leave.”

You make it as far as one step away from him before Doyoung grabs your wrist lightly. “You can’t leave without letting me hug you first. Who knows when we’ll see each other again.”

The photo on the wall draws your gaze again, a frozen memory of the last time you saw each other. You don’t want years to go by again before you see Doyoung again, and you definitely don’t want to go years regretting not having felt his arms around you.

As soon as you nod, Doyoung’s swept you in against his chest, and he wraps his arms tightly around you in the warmest embrace you’ve felt in a long time. You sigh and return the hug, loving the way it feels to be held by him, to have his cologne filling your nose.

You could happily stay there locked in his arms, but you don’t want to make it weird.

“No.” Doyoung groans as you start to drop your arms from him. “Wait, don’t pull away... Not yet.”

Your heart starts beating faster as Doyoung holds you tighter.

“I love how you fit in my arms,” Doyoung murmurs, tucking his face even more against your shoulder, winding his arms just a little tighter, pulling you that much more against him. “God, I’ve missed you. I feel like I really fucked up my chance with you back then. I should’ve made my move earlier, but you were just so pretty.”

You pull away to frown at him. “Me? Doyoung, I was such a chubby kid. What do you mean pretty.”

He frowns right back at you. “I mean pretty. Yeah, chubby. And cute and pretty. It’s not like those things can’t all be the same thing.” He reaches over for the picture; one little tug brings it down off the way, and he holds it beside your face. “Yeah, you’re still the same. Chubby, pretty, and cute.”

You whine and push at his arm. “Doyoung!”

“What? You are! And I like you just the way you are.” Doyoung tries so hard to defend himself. “Don’t you like me just the way I am?”

“First of all it’s been years, Doyoung. I’m not going to judge you just based off of visuals.” You sit down on his bed to look up at him. “And you look a lot different. You’re all—“ You gesture you and down at his tall, fit figure. “Yeah.”

Doyoung sits down heavily beside you, places the photo in your lap, and points his finger at his face in the image. “I’m that same Kim Dongyoung. I don’t look different.”

You snort. “You’re taller and somehow more handsome. We aren’t discussing this. If we compare who’s changed into a better looking version of themself over these years, then it’s clearly—“

“You.” Doyoung answers before you can say anything else. “It’s you. You look the same, but you look happier too. And more confident. I don’t think you back then would have ever worn something like this with such confidence. You were always shy and worried about what other people thought of you, but now you seem so much more confident and that’s sexy.” Doyoung leans back on his hands to get a full look at you. “I’m telling you, you’ve always been pretty but now you’re confident and that just so attractive.”

You fold your arms in front of you and look over at Doyoung. “I feel like you’re just saying all this stuff.” Doyoung shakes his head. “So you genuinely mean it?”

He nods his head. “Why do you think that I kissed you back then? I had a massive crush on you. I spent so many days thinking about confessing to you, but always losing my nerve. Then that night was my chance, probably my last chance because I knew I was going to be a trainee and would lose pretty much any chance at having a social life for a while. So I went for it. And then you ran away, so I thought you didn’t like me and I made it weird.”

“No!” You laugh. “I was just surprised. How could I not like you? Back then, you were my ideal type, Doyoung.”

“Back then?” He sits up again, holding his face close to yours. “Just back then?”

You look back down at the photo in your lap. You remember feeling so happy right then, the night air rushing around you, the taste of the wine on your tongue, and the heat of Doyoung’s fingers beside your cheek. That Doyoung made your heart pound just as much as your heart is right now.

“I don’t know you as well anymore. I can’t say,” you tell him.

Doyoung stares at you in silence for a few seconds, and then abruptly he stands up and holds his hand out to you.

“I’m Kim Doyoung.” He says as you slip your hand into his to shake. “I think you’re stunning, and I’d like to take you out sometime to get to know you like we used to know each other. Will you say yes?”

You stare at him, trying to read his face to see if he’s totally serious right now. Is Kim Doyoung, your childhood friend, really asking you on a date right now?

You stand up, still holding his hand.

“Well?” Doyoung asks.

“Take your second chance. Show me you’re the same Kim Dongyoung who gave me my first kiss.” Your glad to see the glint in his eye as he accepts your challenge, his hand tightening around yours as he draws you in for a second kiss, years too late.

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