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frozenjokes · 9 months

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Signing Back In, Apparently - 17

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Impulse didn’t like the Kestrels, and honestly, if (probably) Mumbo wasn’t in horrible danger right now, he’d be happy to watch him destroy the entire island, along with the rest of the place. Granted, Impulse didn’t know many of the other pirate factions very well, but if they were anything like the snobs playing pirate for sport, he wouldn’t feel differently. It wouldn’t be exactly untrue to say Impulse didn’t like pirates at all, however hypocritical. But he never really wanted to be a pirate. He never wanted to be a criminal making counterfeit coins before becoming one either, but he had bills to pay and sick friends that needed caring for. Friends that didn’t end up making it regardless.

He remembered Scar, ever charming, sidling up to his booth in the town square and admiring his weaponry for sale. It was a craft Impulse loved, but one that he couldn’t keep up with, not enough to put food on the table at least. Scar was a piece of work, so obviously a conman looking for a cheap deal Impulse had nearly turned him away, but the day was slow and he just so happened to be quite bored. Impulse had let him chatter away, complimenting his work and buttering him up with practiced charisma. Scar was good. He drew Impulse in, inviting more nuanced conversation than only small talk, and really listened to the answers Impulse gave to the questions he posed. It was a moment of human connection that was so rare , so special. The only shock was when Scar said goodbye, leaving without another word. He hadn’t even asked to buy anything. Just bizarre.

Skizz hadn’t been impressed. “People like that, they always want something, he’ll be back.” Well, he was right. Scar did come back a couple days later, supposedly to chat, and he was gone again as quick as he came. On his third visit, he had bet Impulse he could sell his most expensive item for a higher price, and Impulse had rolled his eyes saying if he managed he could keep the extra change. Well, Scar had done it within the hour, returning smugly with a small bag of coin.

“Now I won’t take a thing, seems like your guy back home needs it more,” Scar had said.

Impulse hadn’t even remembered telling him about Skizz. Maybe in passing mention, maybe that a friend was sick. Well, Impulse didn’t forget. He didn’t forget the medicine for fever dropped off at his booth the next day either, although Scar had denied it was him. Scar became a friend. He was dodgy about his past, but that wasn’t abnormal for a traveler as Scar often bragged about being. Scar liked to stop through at different towns, meet new people, have a good laugh; at least that’s what he said, but Impulse had no reason to doubt him besides that mischievous glint in his eyes. Eventually, Scar was his shoulder to cry on when Skizz passed. A support he desperately needed when his life came crumbling apart. It was then when Impulse found out what Scar wanted. He wanted him on his crew, his pirate crew, which currently had no members. He didn’t just want Impulse either, he wanted to find other people who needed a second chance at a new life, a life with no ties to a society that couldn’t support them.

Maybe that was just a long winded way of expressing that he hated it here. He hated that this was something fun , like some sort of adrenaline seeking venture. Well, if Impulse was being honest with himself, that’s what it had always been to Scar. At least before, Impulse thought there had been a kindness behind his intentions, a determination to bring other people together. Maybe at some point, that was the case. But he needed to refocus on the present now. Scar was leaving, leaving to find Mumbo and threatening the wholeness of the family they had built once again. Impulse couldn’t stop him the first time. This would be different. It had to be. Impulse only hoped Mumbo found catharsis in turning this place to dust in the meantime. If the monster on the Kestrel Island was Mumbo. He couldn’t shake the feeling that wasn’t quite right.

“Alright, Grian, we need a plan here.”

“Impulse, Scar and Mumbo are going to be dead by the time we-”

“If you get too riled up or act too recklessly, both of those things you are prone to doing, we’ll be in just as bad shape. That’s why I need you to get the ouija board. I will deal with Scar.”

“Wh- what? Impulse, I can’t just carry stuff around! Not even Pearl can do that! When we find her we can see if-”

“Grian, if Pearl knew Mumbo was in bad shape and was trying to help before this happened, she could be in trouble too. The fact that we haven’t seen her yet is… Pearl isn’t the most level headed ghost. The thing is, we don’t know what’s going on and I’ve never been able to interact with the real world like you can. Just, try your best. I’ll try to get Scar to his room, and if he sees that it’s disturbed, he might understand. Sooner or later he’s going to realize where his injuries are coming from, and he will need us.”

Grian’s expression was strangled at the mention of Pearl. “Do you think..? Could Mumbo have hurt her? Do you even think Scar will listen, even if he understands?” There was no challenge in his tone now, only deep worry. Impulse knew that look, the helpless feeling inside him that needed a positive affirmation. It was a comfort Impulse couldn’t give him.

“I don’t know, Grian. But we have to try. Let’s not waste time, we can both teleport to Scar, and then you can go ahead.”

Grian only nodded, concern for Pearl seeming to level out his panic for Mumbo. At least for now, he was stable. Impulse squeezed his hand, letting go before focusing on Scar’s location before leaving the restaurant. He was already on his boat, making the short trip back to the Kestrel Island. Gunshots, yelling, and loud crashing sounded across the water, and a cloud of dust was beginning to rise above the island. Scar was leaning over the wheel, a pained expression crossing his face as he sustained another injury. Cleo had bandages, working quietly to curb some of the bleeding. At least it wasn’t much, the blood on Scar’s shirt looking far more frightening, but Impulse couldn’t help but wonder how much longer Scar could take this. He looked away, deciding worrying too much wouldn’t be productive. Grian appeared beside him, hesitating before flying off to the tavern. Impulse took a deep breath. Time to get to work.

Impulse stood in front of the wheel, beginning his frantic pointing and miming ‘ No’ at the destruction. In this more sensitive state, Scar seemed more willing to pay attention, but he was no less standoffish.

“Yeah, I know it’s a bad idea, but I don’t plan on letting whatever’s over there see me, I’m not an idiot. You guys took care of Grian, are you just drawing this out to spite me? Hoping it kills me? Looks like it might be your lucky day,” Scar replied flatly, looking bored.

Impulse waved his hands defensively. He pointed at the silhouette of the creature as it came into view, drawing a line across his neck. Pointing back to Scar, he made the same gesture. “If it dies, you die,” he tried to enunciate clearly, but Scar had never bothered to practice reading lips.

“Uh huh, I know it wants to kill me,” Scar rolled his eyes. Impulse yelled into both of his hands.

“What are they saying?” Cleo perked up, looking in the entirely wrong direction.

“Just Impulse. Hell if I know. Anticipating me getting snapped up and killed, probably. That’s the usual.”

‘NO,’ Impulse attempted to make his miming very clear, but Scar only yawned.

“You don’t seem all too concerned, given your possibly imminent death.”

Scar shrugged. “It’s never bothered me. It’s not that I don’t care, just that.. I’m not really scared. Never have been. Consequences don’t mean anything to me until they happen, y’know? Get ready to dock, Cleo.” And just like that, with someone else to talk to, Scar was ignoring him again.

“Interesting. I can’t say I ‘do know,’ though, I think that’s just a you thing, bud.” Cleo grabbed the docking rope and Scar slowed the boat, ready to jump ship. Impulse tried multiple times to block his path, but Scar just walked straight through, mumbling about ghosts being pests. Honestly, Impulse wasn’t sure if he was talking about him, or the monster destroying his home. Either way, he didn’t seem too concerned, not even when Sausage came running in his direction.

“ Scar, do you know anything about this? Did you do this?” Sausage panted, his long hair in complete disarray. Both men flinched at the sound of another loud crash, followed by yelling. Sausage shook his head. “Some Kites jumped on the opportunity for battle, but we’ve barely slowed it down! You need to take care of this.”

“Okay, okay, I know this looks bad. I’ve been treating them well, Sausage, promise! They’ve had a grand ol’ time without me this week, and I was under the impression they were doing well!”

“So it is a ghost.”

“Well, to be determined. Given the two others are losing their minds, I would say it’s likely. I still need to take a look.”

“Draw your sword then. Let’s go.” There was something deeper in Sausage’s eye, in his tone, that Impulse couldn’t quite parse. Had Scar caught it too? One way or another, Impulse was starting to think Scar’s time at the Faction Isles was coming to an end, one way or another. He couldn’t help but feel relief, almost immediately flattened by the looming idea that one of those ways ended with the loss of (possibly) Mumbo or Pearl, and that outcome was looking more and more likely. Impulse was glad Grian wasn’t here. He was spurred back to reality as Cleo walked through him, taking her time while Scar and Sausage ran.

Scar stopped dead when he saw the monster, his mask dropping in a moment of realness Impulse rarely ever saw. Sausage yelled once he realized Scar had quit running, but Scar wasn’t listening, and Impulse took the opportunity to get in front of him again.

“That’s not Mumbo,” Scar spoke with such certainty, Impulse couldn’t help but trust his judgment. “That’s- wait, ” Scar squinted, stepping forward, “No, there's.. He’s there but.. Impulse. Where is Pearl?”

Impulse was so surprised at being directly addressed he hardly reacted, just staring dumbly with wide eyes.

“Have you seen Pearl? Yes or no? Is she here?”

Impulse shook his head, but then realizing the gesture was a bit vague, gave Scar a thumbs down.

“Ohhoh!” Scar laughed, his smile sliding back across his face, “Well then, that is not just Mumbo my friend. At this point, I see new ghost tricks every week, so I suppose ghost fusion wasn’t completely out of the question for me.” Scar kept walking now, keeping a brisk pace. Impulse didn’t know what to say. Sausage’s irritation was palpable, but Scar either didn’t notice or didn’t care, continuing to speak to Impulse. “No wonder! Come on, we both know Mumbo doesn’t have the heart for destruction like this. And she’s so big- she? He? Them? I don’t suppose it can talk and tell us its pronouns huh? Well, they need a name! I’m not just going to call it Mumbo and Pearl, we need something succinct! Ah, well they look all smashed together, how about Mearl? You know, that kind of sounds like it’s short for Merlin! I like that! Do you think they’d agree? Do you like it? Thumbs up or thumbs down?”

Impulse’s expression was twisted in a look of helplessness, reflected completely in Sausage’s face. Scar laughed it off, continuing on his way. This was the most energetic Impulse had seen him in months, even as more phantom injuries appeared across his legs. Sausage seemed to notice, but didn’t say a word, presumably afraid that Scar might go off on another tangent and lose track of the task at hand. Suddenly, Impulse realized this might be his best chance at keeping Scar away, but by the time he got back in front of Scar to give a thumbs up, his attention was already elsewhere. All Impulse could do was follow as Scar got closer to impending doom.

Scar’s line of thinking, however erratic, made sense. Well, it didn’t actually make much sense at all, but it would at least explain Pearl’s absence, and maybe even the violence. If their bodies were unstable, maybe they got stuck together. When Grian had become.. something else.. he had at least recognized the rest of them, but maybe things got more confused with multiple minds. Maybe they weren’t even themselves, but a new entity entirely. Whatever the case, Impulse was a little relieved that Scar gave them a name; it felt wrong to think about them as ‘monster’. Merlin was better.

It was only a couple more streets before they properly reached the fighting, Merlin hooked upside down to the now crumbling dining hall, wings flared. It roared as another shot was fired, disappearing into its mane. Given the lack of injuries on Scar’s face and neck, Impulse guessed it was quite thick. Pirates Impulse didn’t recognize were scattered in the street, but he assumed most were Kites or other faction members, since many if not most of the Kestrels held back with firearms. Martyn stood with his daggers among the Kites, but turned as Scar approached, almost like he sensed his presence.

“Well hello there!” Scar waved without standing in direct view of Merlin. Impulse tried to block him from standing much further in the open, frantically waving his hands, but he was beginning to lose hope. Scar looked sheepish as the other Kestrels turned to see, but the distraction only lasted seconds when Merlin jumped from the dining hall, crashing into the road and hammering the ground with his forearms. The shaking earth made many stumble, while others reared forward, swords raised. Scar drew his own, clearly looking for an opening, but didn’t get the chance before multiple lacerations crossed through his legs, the surprise causing him to cry out. Scar stumbled, looking from Impulse to Merlin. He paled. His blood dripped to the pavement.

“Do you finally understand?” Impulse stressed, nearly yelling as if Scar might hear him.

“This.. This makes things a little more complicated, doesn’t it,” Scar said, taking a step back. Impulse saw his brain working, his eyes flicking back and forth. Looking for a way out. Impulse pointed in the direction of the tavern, trying desperately to tell Scar they needed to talk. At another step back, he ran into Cleo. From the look she was giving him, Impulse was pretty sure she’d also figured it out.

“They’re going to kill you, Scar.”

“No one saw.”

“I saw. Scott and Sausage have seen, they just haven’t put it together. Or maybe they have.”

“I have a plan,” Scar pushed past her before she could question him, walking in stride to Sausage. Impulse couldn’t suppress his anxiety at the small trail of blood he left. He looked up to see Martyn staring, lowering his daggers before stepping out of the fight behind a pile of rubble. Impulse looked frantically to Cleo, then to Scar, but they were completely focused on Sausage. Damn it.

“The ouija board,” Scar’s hushed voice caught his attention, “It’s how I stopped the ghost last time this happened, but it left a toll on me, as you could see with the seizures. That’s how this starts. That’s how it ends. I’ll be back before you even miss me, and honestly, my presence here is only going to piss that thing off.” Relief washed over Impulse in waves. Scar had understood, or at the very least he had realized himself they were going to have to work together.

“I don’t like this. Even besides the use of the ouija board, you aren’t known to be the reliable sort, Scar,” Sausage crossed his arms, eyes narrowed.

“Then come with me,” Scar gave a little start, as if realizing at the last minute that wouldn’t work. Scar had always been an actor, but years of knowing him made these tricks easy to see through. “No, you need to stay here, you’re one of the only gunmen. Have someone else come. Cleo, maybe.”

Sausage huffed, but was stopped in his tracks by another loud crash. Merlin had jumped back to the dining hall, and the ceiling was now caving. In a moment of panic, Sausage shook his head. “ Fine. Go. You have ten minutes.”

Scar didn’t waste any time before hopping off, breaking into a run with Cleo hot on his tail. Impulse lingered for an extra moment, looking for Martyn. Nowhere to be found. Shit, he really should have kept a closer eye on him, but it was too late now. He’d just have to tell Scar over the ouija board.

As they approached the tavern, Scar studied Cleo with cold intensity. He put a hand on the hilt of his sword, and Impulse was certain for a moment Scar was going to kill them while their back was turned. But instead of fully drawing his sword, he spoke, “Why didn’t you tell Sausage or anyone else, Cleo? You care about this island, don’t you? If killing me would stop Pearl and Mumbo, why wait?” Scar stopped in his tracks. Impulse pulled at his hair. They were so close. Why did Scar always have to make things harder?

Cleo stopped, confusion in her gaze until she saw Scar’s hand on his sword. Confusion turned to irritation. “No need to be touchy now, keep your sword away. I wouldn’t care if it was just you, but the ghosts attached to your hip didn’t do anything wrong. Listen, I’d be willing to cut my losses if the three of you kicked it, but I don’t believe this is hopeless. Your other ghosts might have some ideas, and if not, I know an island full of freaks that are starting to get bored. They’d jump on a project like this.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Well, Scar, if it’s death or another visit with Cub, what are you going to pick?”

“That’s a toughie. I’ll cross that bridge when I get there,” Scar made a show of taking his hand off his sword, throwing both arms in the air. Cleo rolled her eyes, walking beside him. Impulse let out a deep breath, running ahead to enter the tavern first. He was relieved to see Grian at the bottom of the stairs. Emotion overtook him seeing Grian stand over the ouija board looking all tired and proud, and he ran forward to wrap him in a quick hug. The relief of even getting to this point made his knees weak.

“It’s not over Grian, but Scar is here. He’s going to talk to us. We also- we think the, uh, the moth creature, we think it’s Pearl and Mumbo. Together. Scar recognized parts of Mumbo, but not all of it if that makes sense? Something could have gone wrong when Pearl found Mumbo, or.. I mean, I won’t pretend to know what happened.”

Grian took the information in quietly, brows furrowed. “That’s.. I don’t know. Concerning? Worrying? All of the things,” Grian sighed, putting on a small smile, “Hey, are you saying you made me move this stupid thing all the way down here when Scar could have just gotten it himself? Do you know how tiring it is to try and move stuff on purpose?” But his tone was light, eyes playful.

“Well you did a great job!”

Grian snorted, but stopped as the front door opened, Scar dramatically gesturing for Cleo to go inside. She flicked his hats off his head as she went, giggling as he squawked and reached down to gather them.

“Oh look at that, they’ve already pushed the ouija board to the bottom of the stairs!” Cleo said, bending over to examine the board. “I’ve never used one of these, can you believe that?”

“ Wow, Cleo, that was very nice and polite of my ghosts to do,” Scar still clambered around in the doorway, restacking his hats. “So very unlike you. You, who is very rude. Very very rude. Don’t you know to respect a man’s hats? These are important! They’re-” Scar stopped short, Cleo laughing.

“I’ve always wanted to do that. I was not disappointed,” Cleo lingered in her smile for a moment, frowning before looking back to the door when there was no response, “Scar?”

Impulse blinked, looking up from where he was chuckling with Grian over the ouija board. Scar stood halfway off the ground, Sausage’s gun pressed to the back of his head. Martyn stood next to Sausage, eyes narrowed and sword drawn.

“Sorry Scar,” Martyn finally spoke, expression unreadable, “This really isn’t personal.”

#hermitcraft #pirates smp #gtws #goodtimeswithscar #grian #impulsesv #mumbo jumbo #pearlecentmoon #zombiecleo #mythicalsausage #inthelittlewood #boatem #boatemghostsau

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nateascendingskies · 1 year

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The Personal Experiences of Pixar and Elemental

Leaving a showing of the crew at Pixar and director Peter Sohn's latest film, Elemental, I was struck by how personal and certifiably unique the film was - no, not necessarily because of its story or even its characters (though the latter felt like a great inverse and even echo of the similar Zootopia), but because of how its themes of the immigrant experience, the duties and expectations of familial traditions, and even the feeling of multicultural love were conveyed or explored.

Much like how I have felt and seen myself in classic Disney and DreamWorks characters like Nick Wilde, WALL-E, and Hiccup Haddock, Ember and Wade spoke to me in ways I wasn't necessarily expecting or even considering walking into the theater some 2 hours earlier.

Like the literal flaming young woman that is Ember, I find myself in an interesting position in my life. While I have not necessarily found myself in the burden of following in family footsteps, I related very much to the idea of having to control one's temper in stressful situations. In the retail environment I have found myself in, I too have been overwhelmed by the constant hustle, bustle and flow of customers - all with their own wacky, weird and wild requests I probably wouldn't have even considered had I not stepped foot in a Home Depot for 8 hours every day. Oftentimes, I need a softer, creative, and often free-spirited side to awaken and comfort me when things get rough or tough sometimes. And, of course, that's where someone like a Wade comes in.

Like Wade, I do find myself easily crying at the most emotional of things - I do happily and readily admit. Yet, like the big ol' blob of water he is, I also find myself finding some clever solutions to problems I never once considered encountering. In addition, I do have a family and a creative community around me who have gone their own wacky and unusual ways, pursuing their own computer science or radiological techniques while I still try to find my own way around the world - living the dream as a writer for a film or motorsport publication or an archivist for a studio like Pixar, perhaps (funny, ain't it?).

Even then, it wasn't just the personal connections that I found in myself that drew me in. For the longest time, I had been longing for a Pixar film that felt like a true back to basics approach - the product of one voice guiding a similar creative team of thousands. Much like 2021's Luca, this was it - but on a big screen scale I didn't even think I wanted to see again. It felt refreshingly simple, pared back, even - which let the visuals carry the story even more than usual.

I didn't need any dialogue about butterflies, car windshields, code violations, blunt yet hard hitting racial allegories, games about making others cry, or depressed clouds trying to play visually trippy basketball equivalents (trust me, it all makes sense when you see the film) to keep me invested - all it took was a kaleidoscopic trip through a flooded old train station to find a flower that could survive in water and fire, some literal crowd waves at a sports stadium, and a literal familial flame to guide me through this weird world of living elements that Sohn and his team had created, showing more than saying what he had seen as a member of an immigrant family and perhaps even as a smitten romantic himself. Besides, as someone who spent a year in Oregon watching some of the best glassblowers in the world practice their craft, I couldn't help but smile watching that all come into play as a gift that Ember realized she had.

If anything, the flaws and traditional story beats the film had only served to draw attention more to what made it work - as a romantic comedy about literal opposites attracting, an unexpected tonal blender of comedy, drama and romance, and as a beautiful reflection of never really giving up on the dreams you discover and find as your life changes. I mean, if you told me I'd find a home at a Home Depot as a job I loved 5 or 10 years ago, I'd call you nuts! If you told me I'd come out of a film as mismarketed as Elemental listening to its beautiful score from Thomas Newman and admiring it mere hours after seeing it in a way that even Across the Spider-Verse couldn't match, I'd call you insane! And, perhaps most importantly of all, if you told me that I'd have a renewed hope, admiration and appreciation for the team at Pixar after how critical I was about their position in my last post - well, then you'd probably call me an unbelievable hypocrite with something stuck in my head. But that's just the way things work - and I couldn't be any happier to be wrong.

Plus, it made me more determined than ever to chase my own animated dreams. Now, if you don't mind, I'm gonna see what I should doodle next…

#elemental #pixar #wade #ember #someone give thomas newman the oscar already goddamn #home depot #peter sohn

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sleepyowlwrites · 8 months

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FTWT CCCLXXXIX

a pair of beaded earrings from @crypticcodexcreations

time (let's play pirates)

Zoro sighed, then shifted to sit next to Mari again. She didn’t immediately start trying to get up again, so he closed his eyes. Every time Mari made a reference to her past he got the strangest urge to ask her invasive questions, especially about the people who had betrayed her. He chalked it up to his instinct for a bounty and not the more unfortunate reason of actually caring. It happened with every member of the crew. Zoro hadn’t signed up to have protective instincts about all these people.

“How about you take a nap, huh? That way I can go back to mine.”

frustration (beating hearts)

Pangzi’s exhale is even noisier this time, the frustration clear in how he stutters into it, how his heartbeat hitches along with his temper.

“Liu Sang,” he starts, and it never bodes when when his real name is brought into things, “I’m trying to take care of you. I’m always trying to take care of you. Why won’t you just let me?”

listen (untitled lullaby, 2013)

The blood orange crests the hill Warm your hands, you can't stay still So run and run and run Now the birds sing your song You could listen all day long But there are things to be done

game (meta-portal) (I love this fic so much)

Hyunjin is just about ready to cry because of everything that is happening. Jeongin notices and steps up to welcome the strangers like the good little brother prince that he is. He says "why don't we all sit down and have some lemonade"

Chan goes to organize getting the lemonade and appoints Seungmin in charge of watching Soobin, who looks on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Seungmin says "so is Hyunjin but I guess I can watch them both"

Younghoon has been talking with Changbin since he arrived and they keep on talking now, settling down and continuing their discussion on whether darts or golf is the trickier sport and also how bad they are at both games.

mirror (meta-portal 2.0)

Jacob huffs a little. “I’m a witch, okay? I don’t do big magics.”

“Alright,” Jisung says, sounding very much like he’s used to smoothing over peoples’ tempers. “Anyway, what are we going to do about that guy that fell through the portal?”

“Did you see him? Before you came through?”

“Yeah.” Jisung messes his hair up even more when he runs his hand through it. “Just for a minute. He fell through the mirror sculpture in Felix’s garden.”

allow, betray, annoy, breath, + bonus: yellow, invent. @queerlilchinchin @winterandwords @nopoodles @daisywords OR ANYBODY

#find the word tag

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landinoandco · 3 years

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Baby, let's live in the now

Max Verstappen x reader

Request from @simxican

Warnings: none :)

Word count: 1.3k

Requests are open...

“Where’s daddy?” Your two year old son, Jack, climbed up onto your bed. To say it had been a tough two years since having Jack was an understatement, with Max’s constant travelling it meant that you had practically brought Jack up by yourself. It had also meant that Max had not been there to witness all of the major parenting milestones: first words, first steps and first day of nursery. It broke Max when he found out Jack’s first word was: “bull,” the whole paddock had found it most amusing but all Max could think about was all of the things he was missing out on.

As Jack got older, you and him were able to join Max on the weekends where the races were closer to home.

Max adored it when you both came to watch the races, he was so proud of you; he admired your perseverance and patience when it came to Jack - the ability to understand his every need just by a small cry or body movement. Something he felt like he would never understand and on the tougher race weekends it sometimes got to him, he wanted to have that close bond with his son; he wanted to be the one to take him to nursery and eventually take him go-karting and to the races. At the same time, he wanted to be a good role model for Jack. He made sure he went into every race weekend pushing to the car’s limits and working hard to always improve and learn - he was showing his son that hard work always pays off and that one day he too would be able to make his dreams come true. This was the thought that drove him forward, his motivation on those harder weekends.

Max knew that being in a relationship with any sports person was difficult - the constant travelling, the attention they received on a daily basis and this is why he had so much respect for you. Your ability to stay calm when he couldn’t and when he just needed to get something off of his chest, you were there to listen and offer your view on the matter. That’s what he loved most about you - the understanding you had for one another.

It was the second race after summer break and Max’s home Grand Prix in the Netherlands. Unbeknownst to Max, you and Jack were going to the track to surprise him before the race started. Jack was a fan-favourite in the Red Bull garage - his inquisitive nature providing the entertainment for all that got the pleasure of meeting him. The garage crew thoroughly enjoyed showing Jack around; showing him the tires, the fancy screens, the motorhomes but most importantly: the cars. Max couldn’t have been prouder when his son first showed an interest in cars - some would argue it was inevitable but the reality of his son wanting to listen to all of his stories and wanting to be like him when he grew older - it was like no other feeling he had felt before.

“Daddy is at the track - would you like to go and surprise him?” You asked your son, picking him up and placing him on your lap. He leant into your chest as you wrapped your arms around him.

“Can we see Uncle Daniel, please?” He asked, his soft, innocent tone tugging gently at your heart. One thing that surprised you about motherhood was the ability to love something so quickly yet so unconditionally - it was the type of love you knew could never run out.

Chuckling gently at your son’s apparent loyalty to the Australian, you kissed the top of his head.

“Of course, my sweet boy.”

Max was sitting on the sofa in his motorhome - a soft hum of music in the background, the upper body section of his race suit dangling from his waist. He was scrolling through the photos of you, him and Jack from the summer break. You all went away on holiday to a small cottage in the Italian countryside - a week away from the hectic lifestyle and into the tranquil surroundings of Southern Italy. He was smiling as he scrolled, wishing that you were both with him this weekend. He knew that you and Jack were celebrating his home grand prix at his sister’s house, as the family had gotten together for a garden party - but it didn't make it any easier.

There was a timid knock at the door, frowning he got up - he wasn’t expecting anyone and the race wasn’t for another 4 hours.

“Come in.” He said, placing his phone down on the coffee table. The door flew open and in rushed a small toddler, shouting: “Daddy.” As he did so. Max’s eyes immediately lit up and he grabbed the boy and spun him around, the latter giggling happily.

Putting Jack down, he looked over to the door and there you stood. A knowing smirk on your lips as you leant against the door frame.

“Surprise.” You said, walking up to him and throwing your arms around his neck. Max kissed your cheek, “This is the best surprise, thank you.” He said, pulling you into him.

“Can we see, Uncle Danny now.” Jack whined, tugging at Max’s draped sleeve. You looked at each other and laughed, Jack certainly had his father’s impatience.

You left the motorhome, Jack on Max’s shoulders babbling on about what he had for breakfast. It took quite a while to get through the Red Bull garage, every member they came across wanting to greet little Jack and asking him questions about today’s race. Jack told them how he was sure his Daddy was going to win and they agreed wholeheartedly.

Finally, you reached the pitlane and were met with the usual chaos of race day - team members rushing backwards and forwards, drivers making their way to pre-race interviews and their social rounds with the other drivers.

Unsurprisingly, Daniel was very easy to pick out from the crowd - a bright orange cape with a large lion blazoned on the back of it.

“Uncle Danny. Uncle Danny.” Jack shouted, still on Max’s shoulders. There was a loud cheer from the already gathering crowd as the three of you walked down the pitlane - it was enough to draw the rest of the drivers attention.

“Well, well, if it isn’t little Jack.” Daniel called out, rushing forward and making sure to wave his cape around. He looked like a rip-off superhero. Max placed Jack onto the floor and as soon as his feet reached the ground, he was off - racing towards Maxiel man; the name seemed fitting. You chuckled to yourself about the joke you had made, catching Max’s attention.

“What are you chuckling to yourself about?” He whispered, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. You beamed up at him, going onto your tiptoes and pecked his lips.

“Nothing important.” His eyes twinkled as he rolled his eyes, a prominent smile still on his lips and he snaked an arm around your waist, setting his gaze onto his son and his best friend.

It was his perfect world. Right there in front of him. He had the women of his dreams beside him and a son that resembled all of the traits he saw in himself when he was a young boy. Jack was just like the lion on his godfather's cape. He was happy and that was worth so much more than anything he had ever fought for before.

He was going to win the championship. For you. For Jack. Because why the hell not.

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charthanry · 2 years

Text

BBS: Putting the Com in RomCom (a crack analysis)

BBS has categorically been described as a romcom which we all know is a bald-faced lie made by lying liars who lie otherwise why else would BBS tumblr hold each other and collectively cry into our tear-stained pillows every night? BUT if these liars are determined to call our beloved a romcom, then here is my list of meta moments from the show that genuinely made me cackle. (Or the one time when most of my post commentary consists of WHAT IS EVEN HAPPENING HERE?!!)

EP1 - Kid with pursed lips out here breaking hearts and taking prisoners.

This is SUCH a Pat thing to do so how much do I love that they let young Pran steal the scene? You know this grated young Pat sooooo BAD making it THAT much more funny. He probably lost sleep over it. And the pursed duck lips really puts it over the top for me. Who even raised you, you little gremlin? Not prim and proper, never a hair out of place, Dissaya and Mr. I Must Listen to Classical Music While I Eat Dad? While hilarious, what I love most about this is how we learn that Pat received it as good as he gave. Pran was no pushover even at the gremlin-age.

EP2 - Sighting: Man with framed picture of himself next to bed in case he forgets what he looks like.

Why, show, why? This is clearly a picture of Nanon and NOT Pran. Why didn’t they use a family photo of him with his parents or even a baby picture? Why use what’s obviously a modeling picture of their lead actor here? For a show that lives and dies in the details, this is just lazy staging. But what's truly hilarious is the pose, is Pran supposed to be giving himself a come hither look here? Like, is that what's happening every morning when he opens his eyes and the last thing he sees each night? A picture of himself seducing himself???😂😂😂

EP5 - Love Sign #2: Make eyes with your intended while wild horse neighs in background.

This is more of an audio than a visual take, but why is there a horse sound effect when Pat tries to make eyes with Ink??? LMAO. Is Pat meant to be a “stallion” in this scenario? I laughed SO HARD at this. Is this the soundtrack of Pat’s life? Like, what is even happening here? Does he just walk around campus with barnyard animal sounds following him around in his head? What does he need to be doing to hear a cow's moo??? 🐄🐮🐮🐄 You know what? On second thought, I don’t even want to know.

EP6 - BroTip: Prepare for possible gang jumping by pushing up sleeveless sleeves.

My first viewing of this scene had me going HAHAHA!!! Or as Ohm (and all of Thailand) would say 555555!!! What is even happening here? Pat, why, no, just why. And then they add the intense music in the background too? P’Aof and co. were totally trolling us right? There can’t be any other explanation. How many of the crew members struggled to keep a straight face during this filming? And poor Ohm? How many times did he break character laughing just to get through the motions of pushing up sleeves that AREN’T THERE?!! But no, it’s meant to be a serious moment??? I swear with every rewatch even though I know it’s COMING it still takes me out every single time. I keep dying over and over again.

EP9 - Bewildered man attacked by missing armhole in sports jersey.

What is going on here, Pat? Aren’t you suppose to be a pro at sleeveless wear? Was this just an NG that they thought was funny so decided to keep? It just makes Pat look like an idiot who doesn’t know how to dress himself. Is this why you walk around shirtless so often? You don’t get how armholes or sleeves work? Yet another definitive reason why he needs Pran in his life. The boy is clueless and a walking hazard.

EP9 - Oishi green tea allowing gays to be footloose and fancy free since 1993?

BRO, what is even happening here? I CRINGED so hard at this scene and the level of secondhand embarrassment is more than my burning face and ears can handle. Was P’Aof like: hey guys we have to insert this product placement here, so I want you to just go out there and sell it but reallllly mean it. And this was what Ohm and Nanon came up with?? AND P’Aof was like, great job, but can you really try selling it this time? I need more jazz hands. Maybe add the arm wave too? Ohm, I love you but no, just no.

EP9 - Man with tiny gun threatens a weaseling Waisel.

I get that this is a low-stakes show and the whole point of the gun thread was to move the narrative along and get the parents involved, but c’mon this was the best gun the prop team could come up with??? The whole thing is smaller than the dude’s palm. Like, he can barely get the tip of his trigger finger in there??? And now it looks like it’s stuck?? LMAO. I know this was meant to be an OH NO BIG BAD THING IS HAPPENING HERE but the entire thing was just so cartoonishy COMICAL to me. And why even stop there? Dude might as well be twirling an oversized moustache while he’s pointing that tiny gun.😂😂😂

EP9 - Man who thinks he has moves like Jagger, but in fact, very much does not. (Don’t tell him.)

This is such a difficult scene to capture a screenshot of but you all KNOW which scene I’m talking about. In the middle of a brawl involving a tiny gun, Pat decides he’s inside the matrix and can dodge fists and limbs so gets up from the ground like THIS. Whyyyyyy, Pat? Just pull yourself up like a normal person. BE NORMAL dude, it’s not that difficult. Okay, maybe for you it is. Pfft.

EP10 - Tough gangster tries to impress high school kids with velcro wallet.

Pat whips out his wallet and we hear the sccrreeeech of velcro when he opens it and I die (again) of abject horror via secondhand embarrassment. These boys look up to you Pat, can you not embarrass me like this? What 20-something college sophomore carries around a velcro wallet??? And why is Pran just standing there okay with all of this? You have ONE job, Pran. To rein in or at least slow down Pat’s buffoonery. He's not helping himself in that area. And the man’s got a reputation to uphold.😩😩😭😭

EP12 - TFW: I wish I had more middle fingers to give.

The high school flashback scene where Pat and Pran are flipping each other off reminded me so much of that viral gif of the two guys who were so uh, passionate about giving each other the middle finger they each had to have the final say even AFTER crossing the friggin’ street! If you haven’t seen it yet, watch it below. It is SO STUPIDLY HILARIOUS. And I could totally see Pat and Pran doing this back in high school. Only they live next door to each other so they’d race up to their rooms to continue the middle finger fight from their windows and IT WOULD NEVER END.😂😂😂

):):):):):):):)

Thank you for attending this open mic night at chez charthanry. Be kind, tip your waitresses, ditch the velcro wallets, and leave the muscle tees at home. Don’t be like Pat.

#bad buddy #bad buddy series #pranpat #pran x pat #bad buddy meta #i tease bc i love #ohmnanon #it's that point in the relationship where I can make fun of BBS now #out of love of course #my stuff #meta #all the scenes where I had to ask P'Aof what were you thinking?#what is even happening here??#i'm so embarassed for them #like omg the secondhand embarassment burns me #it's the velcro wallet that does me in everytime #i can't with you pat

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opluffys · 3 years

Text

What We Aren’t- Killer x Reader

this took me so long cuz i had no motivation to write it... i fucking love killer but i’m so lazy lol. i hate this but there’s not that many fics for him, so enjoy? idk i’ve been unhappy with my writing for a while ughhh. please enjoy even though it’s bad! *please let me know if something looks off in the writing, sometimes it copies weird!!*

-smut/nsfw-

You sat perched upon your small, uncomfortable office chair, calmly awaiting a very important call. All you had been doing this entire day was waiting, for that damn transponder snail to ring. How long does it take to read over one single paper and respond back?

Being a member of a Supernova's crew meant a lot of injuries, you were no fool, no. You knew the toll it'd take on you as a surgeon to become Kid's ship doctor. One would take a look at you and assume you had enjoyed the challenge, the thrill of getting a new patient under the operating table each hour with something new wrong with them.

No, that was not the case, not at all.

Goodness, you adored being a surgeon, of course! Holding that scalpel and practically slicing people open always made you giddy. A sadistic surgeon, guess that's what people would pinpoint you as. But those were just simple perks of being the ship doctor on the Victoria Punk.

The real treat was the second in command.

Every time you weren't blinded by the lights in the operating room, you would steal glances at the attractive man. How mysterious he was just did wonders for you...

Over the years that you had stayed, you obviously had made advances. You wouldn't say that Killer always had women throwing themselves at him, they must be blind, though. So of course when you hinted that you wanted him in a more, intimate, manner, he at times accepted.

The two of you were not in a relationship, in fact, the two of you had barely exchanged any words to one another. Even though you always treated his wounds with utmost care, and not a word was said. Just a simple thanks and he was on his way.

You didn't care, though. You were not, by any means, looking for a long term relationship. You did not have the time for that, and you probably never would, if you were to continue your role as a surgeon, that was all you could focus on.

You scribbled notes down messily, crossing names out on the list quickly. While you waited for the transponder snail to ring, you decided to doodle a list. It wasn't important, not in the slightest. But you wanted to see how each crew member had gotten injured and where. It wouldn't help, but it was fun to see such a thing.

You heard the door swing open, being caught just in time in order not to bang against the wall. You were about to yell at whoever burst inside in such a way, but then you saw that familiar mass of fluffy blonde hair.

"Well, hello." You said, settling back into the chair, hearing it give a weak squeak in response to any weight put onto it. You really needed to get a new chair.

Killer grunted in response, and a small sigh left your lips. At times, you would question why he wasn't so talkative like the rest of the crew.

You quickly ripped the list that you had made, tossing it in the nearest trash bin you could find. You figured now would be a time to make an actual list you would use, not one that would bring you petty amusement.

"So, what do you need? You don't look injured, and I only do surgeries. So go over to the others if you have a scratch you need checked." You said, scribbling more unreadable words down.

"Since when do you only do surgeries?" You heard an unfamiliar voice pipe in. In question, you rose your head from the notes over to the voice you heard. After seeing a random lackey holding bandages, you scoffed and gave an eye roll.

"Too many on this ship come to me everyday to go under my operating table. You know that? Imagine if I had to take care of everyone else who came to me with a runny nose crying for dear life. I'd go insane." You said, relaxing your skilled hands in your lap, smiling proudly. Of course you would end up helping anyone who wandered into your office regardless. You knew nobody else could take care of anyone like you.

You shooed the young boy out of the office, who smiled in return to your words, not believing a thing, he knew how soft you were.

You groaned loudly, putting your head against the table. Why couldn't you be a mean pirate like your captain? Refusing any with a small bruise on their arm. It's your own damn fault, being too nice to the crew members, acting like their damn mother.

You then returned to take your notes.

"I need painkillers."

You nearly had a heart attack.

"You're gonna fucking end me..!" You gasped, feeling your heart beat quicken.

You calmed down quickly, your heart still beating quite quickly. Not because of how scared you were, but because of who was in front of you.

"Why?"

"I've been feeling a little sore and tense lately." Killer replied, leaning on the wall.

You laughed, bringing your hand to your mouth. "I can give you painkillers for that, but it can easily go away by a simple massage." You said, kicking your legs up onto the table. Hell, it was disrespectful, but it was your office. You could do whatever the fuck you wanted here.

"And I think I could help you out with that." You added, sounding a little suggestive about a simple favour to a friend, if you could call him such a thing.

"I thought you only did surgeries..?" He said, and you could've swore you heard a slight teasing undertone. Sly bastard...

You didn't bother a reply, you did not want to bicker with the man. Especially at a time where just a look at him paired with the sound of his voice would ignite your entire body on fire.

You sauntered over to him, urging him to take a seat. He did so, and you knew your chair couldn't take his mass of muscles for very long.

"Your shirt." You said from your place behind him. You were sure the both of you knew he didn't really need his shirt off. But ugh, that back of his...

You obviously were not a masseuse, but how hard could it be?

You dipped your fingers into his skin lightly, pushing harder when he didn't say anything to put a stop to you.

After around thirty or so minutes, you could've cooked anything with just the temperature of your skin. You were dying to be under the man in front of you, harsh nail markings sporting his sculpted back.

You leaned in a little closer, pressing your lips against the nape of his neck. He immediately stiffened, not being used to such a loving gesture.

"So? How does it feel now?" You questioned, spinning him around to view you.

You took a seat on his thighs, a much better place to be seated than your chair.

"I hope I made you feel at least a little better. It would hurt my reputation if one of my patients left without being helped, even just a bit." You grinned, hands roaming all over his built chest.

His breath hitched as you began to move your hips against him, feeling his hands attach to you.

"Now?" Killer questioned, not seeming to protest against any of your actions.

"Why not? I've been awaiting a call, but it looks like that idiot forgot about it."

It seems as if that were all the affirmation he needed, because soon after you said that, you were pushed harshly against your own desk, a surprised squeak coming from you.

Your garments were ripped off with haste, a lazy smile spread across your reddened lips.

Within seconds, you were just an utter mess. You always questioned how he always knew what your body had craved from him.

He quickly pushed your soaked panties aside, sliding his fingers against your slick folds. You bit your lip to try to prevent any unwanted noise from leaving you, but just the sheer skill he had was too much for you.

Your cheek was against the desk, your mouth slightly agape. Such a lewd face you had made, and all he had done was a little teasing.

"So wet already. What have we done that was exciting?"

You whimpered in response, pushing your hips back in hopes of feeling his fingers, or rather, something else, fill your insides.

You felt his presence flush against your back, "Or maybe," he pushed his fingers inside agonizingly slow, nearly causing your death, "this had been on your mind the entire day?"

Fuck, this man was a master at reading people.

Your hands were balled into fists, nails creating marks on your soft palm. You didn't want to give in, you didn't want to beg, but your mind was beginning to disagree with your pride.

"No. That's not the case..." You gasped, feeling his thick fingers curling inside of you, "Hmm, I don't like liars. But, I do like watching you squirm."

"All you have to do is tell me the truth, come on. I know you can do it." Sick bastard. Fuck him. Yeah, you didn't need him, you could finish yourself off, if needed.

"I already told you," You took a deep breath, feeling him move behind you with ill intentions, "all that I've done today was wait for a call. Then, I'd seen you... My thoughts had run for a little, that's all."

Yeah right! Like he'd believe such a thing! This seems like a child who took something they shouldn't. It wasn't your fault, you weren't working properly. Your mind had become wired on feeling Killer inside of you, and that's what you had needed.

You heard shuffling behind you, followed by the removal of his digits. You grumbled unhappily, was he really hellbent on you admitting something that didn't matter? You were both adults, and adults were supposed to get mad behind closed doors. Yup.

While you had been lost in thought, you felt his tip press against your dripping entrance. Finally! About time! You almost broke out in song you were so happy.

You won this little dispute.

Actually, no. You didn't.

He pushed himself inside rather slowly, cock snug against your velvety walls. You expected him to start moving, or at least do anything. But nope.

Nothing.

"Seriously..." You mumbled, trying to move back into him, obviously he didn't allow this, hands stopping any of your ministrations.

This is fine. You were going to be okay like this. You weren't going to give up. You wanted to be a pirate, so you couldn't just rip your pride to shreds.

You knew he couldn't last longer than you. He would crack eventually, and you would triumph. In this case, it was seen as the opposite.

"You really can't admit it, can you?"

No! You couldn't! It wasn't the truth... Mhm, just keep telling yourself that.

You knew he obviously didn't care, he just loved to see you have an internal meltdown. He would use anything and everything he could against you. You could practically hear the 'teehee' come from the bastard.

He took a seat on your tiny chair, bringing you with him while the chair squeaked in discomfort. Now sitting upright on him, oh this wasn't good for you. You could feel him deeper inside of you and you craved more. You craved sweet friction of any kind.

You squeezed around him tightly, trying to ease him into forgetting about this little feud.

You heard his breathing become slightly uneven after that, you grinned, you had an ace up your sleeve.

"What kind of monster takes teasing to such a level?" You politely asked, slightly raising your hips. He wasn't able to stop you in time as you sank onto him slowly.

He was so heavy inside of you, you couldn't take it anymore. You wanted him to fuck you until your mind stopped working. You just got a little taste of what you could have, and you wanted more, you wanted it all.

"How about we take a rain check on this. I think we're both a little needy today." You smiled, you're such a genius. This way, you didn't lose. No, you won. You wanted to tell him to suck it, but you had boundaries.

"Fine. But next time, don't expect me to give in so easily." He sighed, getting a better grip on your hips.

You turned around briefly, seating yourself back onto him. You always secretly enjoyed being so close to him, hearing his heartbeat in an irregular way. Maybe it was because you were so close. Your face heated up a bit, no, that couldn't be it. You placed you hands on his chest gently, "You can move now." You braced yourself for a second, at times, the two of you had gotten a bit rough. You didn't mind, as long as the both of you enjoyed it, you were happy.

He lifted you slightly, you felt a little empty for a moment but sighed blissfully when you felt him back inside.

This was an odd pace... Almost like he was taking how you felt in consideration. Usually you fucked like animals, but this? This was more of a lovers pace. Even the way he held you, it was gentle, for such a large man you hadn't thought he could hold you in such a way.

Maybe he was still teasing, going at a slower pace than you were used to. You could wait a little, at least he was moving now. Your head made contact with his chest, a slightly more comfortable pose for you.

How awkward for him! Your soft hands at his chest lovingly, your face against him while he slowly pumped inside of you... This is what lovers would do, not people who just wanted a quick session... He almost imagined you looking up at him with teary eyes, mumbling an 'I love you'.

He too, felt his face warm. It was such an uncomfortable feeling for someone who didn't welcome such emotions.

A small part of you somewhat enjoyed this, being next to him like this. You wished you could feel his lips plush against your own at this very moment. You smiled while in thought.

He looked down at you through the holes in his mask, he didn't expect such a serene look on you..! You had been liked this, hadn't you? Holding him while you had sighed and whimpered with want.

He took no time to pull out of you, flip you the other way, so you were, once again, facing the desk. He shoved himself inside, pounding into you at a more wanted rate.

All of this has happened very fast. Literally blink of an eye. You had no time to adjust whatsoever, from a slow and leisurely pace, to harsh snapping of the hips.

The expression on your face was priceless, but also very vulgar. The illusion of lovers was wiped away instantly, meaningless pleasure filling its slot.

Your muscles had stopped supporting you, your body nearly becoming lifeless. You silently depended on Killer to keep your body from not falling off of the desk. You laughed imagining this actually happening.

Your eyes screwed shut while your lips had only been able to form, 'yes yes yes!'. You knew his ego was through the roof right now, having a girl under him screaming for more.

And you were right, spot on, actually.

Again, Killer didn't always have women offering themselves to him. You however, would happily flock to him anytime he felt like he needed to relieve some stress.

He looked down at you again, seeing your greedy cunt swallow his cock with urgency put him in a trance. Fuck you took him too good. It was literally as if you were the missing piece to his life.

The way your insides clenched around his length every single time he moved a single muscle, paired with your small and delicate moans... He felt like he'd break you in an instant at such a pace. But he knew you could take it, he wanted you to take all of him every time the two of you do this.

Tears came out of your closed eyes due to the intensity your body was undergoing. It felt fucking phenomenal to be stretched and filled and body bent while being pushed into the uncomfortable wood of the desk. God, you nearly unraveled right there.

Your grip on the desk tightened, knuckled turning a burning white. You couldn't go on forever, you knew that. But with the earlier teasing, you were going to be finished soon.

"Oh fuck yes... Right there fuck yes!!" You screamed, the feeling of pleasure skyrocket when he brushed against that sweet bundle of nerves inside.

"Right here, huh..?" He hummed, large hand caressing the curve of your ass. You panted and whispered something even you didn't know in response. You were just broken at this point.

You were certainly not prepared for when he continued to slam into that desired spot over, and over, and- oh fuck you couldn't handle this shit.

Your orgasm hit you fucking hard, you felt lifeless. Completely and utterly dead.

Seeing you moan and whimper desperately beneath him was, simply, hot as fuck to Killer. The way your body silently begged for more with every thrust, you lightly convulsing and squeezing him when you had gotten close, and the sudden outburst when you had finished... It just kept replaying in his head over, and over, and- oh fuck he couldn't handle this shit.

A deep grunt left him and he pushed deep inside of you again, a quiet whimper coming from you since you were so sensitive. His tip giving a final kiss to your insides, and finally sealing his hot release in you.

You mumbled incoherently while you struggled to get up, trying to pull on your panties.

"Woah, no need to waste." He grinned, pushing a finger into your entrance, keeping his cum inside.

You lightly fell onto his lap, not knowing he'd still stimulate your exhausted nerves. You turned your head into his hard chest and nearly cried.

"Don't be an asshole..." You muttered lowly, looking up at him, "Someone might come in and see."

"So? Maybe it's a kink of yours..." He replied, voice slightly hinting a mischievous undertone.

You snickered, rolling your eyes. When he wasn't so scary, he was quite pleasant to be around.

"Maybe... We might explore some of your kinks too." You giggled, feeling him stiffen at your response. Usually after sex the two of you would go separate ways. You would never bask in the afterglow with him, at least not this long. Talking so casually, too.

You were scared at what the two of you shouldn't become. This was a dangerous life, you couldn't get attached.

And finally the fucking phone rang.

It was as you hadn't just had the best sex of your life, finally this idiot had done what you asked. Who the hell knows why it took him so long.

"Yes? Hello?" You answered, getting off of your comfortable seat, which had been Killer, and leant against the desk.

"What a fucking view..." He mumbled to himself. It seemed that you had forgotten to put your garments on, just how important was this call?

You faked a laugh, this fucker said he went to the wrong island. How. How did that happen..? You would be sure to give him hell when he came back.

"It's okay! It's okay, I'm not mad!" Yeah, you're fucking seething. He was lucky you got remarkable sex out of this.

"Yes, please tell me how much they want for it? Also don't forget to try to swindle them for it, okay? I know you're a shy bastard but you can do it!" You said into the phone. He better get your herbs. You need these stupid little fucking plants or else you couldn't make your medicine.

"Holy shit, that's a lot of money... Well can you try-"

Oh he did not just.

While you were on the phone.

Your assistant constantly asked if you were okay, a shaky answer leaving your red lips.

"Hold on a second sweetie." You said calmly into the phone, acting like you didn't once again, have a huge cock deep inside of you.

"While I'm talking to someone? You couldn't fucking wait?" You whispered, bending slightly. This man had no shame, he wanted you to take it all, clearly.

"Let's see how quiet you can be." He retorted, not even acting like he'd done anything wrong. "Fine, just don't move too much. I don't want anyone on the other line figuring out that we're doing something so scandalous... It's quite rude to do so on the phone." You sighed, removing your hand off of the receiver.

You actually held up quite well, rocking side to side a bit while holding a normal conversation with the shop keeper, haggling about a price. You were so proud of yourself!

“No, put the price lower that’s way too... Too, ah..! Oh fuck..!” You yelled, feeling his large thumb rub harsh circles into your clit. Now everyone knew what you were doing, fucking great.

“Aww, and you were doing so well.” He chuckled, watching you shake under him. You didn’t bother saying anything back to him, too far gone in your own pleasure to care.

How embarrassing... You could try to cover this up, but you don’t know if that would end up well...

“Yes, yes I’m fine... Just stubbed my toe...” You laughed nervously, biting your lip not to let any unwanted noises out.

“How sly.” He smiled, hidden admiration in his voice. You gave him a quick middle finger, cursing at him a couple of times.

“Yeah thanks sweetheart. I’m gonna hang up now okay? Yeah, bye bye.” You spoke, not even hearing anything your assistant had said. You were focused on feeling another great climax, and certainly didn’t care about the price of the plant any longer.

“You’re so fucking wet...”

“Yeah, I wonder why.” Cue the eye roll, “I guess I was right? This is one of your kinks, isn’t it?” He grinned, pushing his cock deeper inside of your warm walls.

“You gonna finish inside of me without warning again?” You muttered, exhaling a shaky breath.

“Only if you want it babe.”

Oh. Oh he had called you babe. Names like those? Oh fuck now you were gonna get attached, and... And...

And maybe that’s okay.

“Fill me up.” You moaned, letting out a gasp of his name that you had chanted like a prayer.

You sure as hell didn’t need to tell him twice.

•Bonus•

“Hey,” You looked up at Killer, hugging him under the sheets, “I think I like you.” You sighed, worried for his answer. You had a feeling the worst thing that could happen was a simple no, but hopefully you wouldn’t lose the sex.

He took his warm hands off of you, which you took as a no towards your earlier statement. You felt a tinge of embarrassment, but since you were so tired, you also didn’t care.

He lifted his mask just so his painted lips were shown, he quickly captured your lips in his own and you felt the sparks fly. You initially thought that it was just sexual, but during the day when you had thought of him, goodness, you were oblivious to your own feelings.

“Really now? You’re not just using me for the sex, are you?” He whispered, voice husky and deep in your ear. You reached to scratch his goatee lightly, “Who knows.” You pressed your lips against his once again, sitting upwards and quickly growing hot. Who knew a make out session would be this hot? The mans got mystery, that’s some extra points right there.

“I think I like you too.”

#one piece x reader #one piece smut #one piece killer #one piece #fanfic #smut #killer x reader

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trashforhockeyguys · 3 years

Text

Vienna Waits For You -3- William Nylander

A/N: So I think this counts as the start of their friendship? Or at least them no longer hating each other. As always, all previous parts are linked in my masterlist! Enjoy!

The apartment was quiet, save for the sound of the old game she was trying to watch. Frustrated, Avalyn took her glasses off and rubbed her eyes, hoping the screen would stop being blurry if she just took a second away from it. She could very easily be out with some other members of the cast, drinking and having a great night. Or she could be like Jackson, who seemed to be spending a lot of time with various members of the team.

It was good for him though, he didn’t have many guys around him that understood the game that he devoted many years to. She often wondered if Jackson regretted giving up hockey so he could act instead. She remembered his last game, the way he looked so defeated when the buzzer sounded, despite the fact that they’d won.

The knock on her door was enough to pull her away from her little hockey bubble. Maybe Jackson decided to stop by after all. She didn’t bother trying to make herself look any better, after all, Jackson witnessed her looking far worse than this.

William shifted his weight, hoping she wouldn’t slam the door in his face. Especially not after he literally ran to go find ice cream. He figured Jackson’s tip couldn’t hurt. He’d been a dick to her, so he wouldn’t blame her if she refused to talk to him. He probably wouldn’t talk to him either.

He expected to see her all done up, like she always seemed to be, but instead the girl that opened the door was a far cry from that. Her hair was a little curly, but not like she’d curled it, more like that's just how her hair dried. She had sweats on, an old worn college sweatshirt that wasn’t her’s, but maybe one of her parent’s? What really surprised him was the fact that she didn’t have a single bit of makeup on, and she was wearing glasses. He hadn’t seen so much as a single picture of her without makeup on, or with glasses.

“Oh- I uh,” She seemed to stumble back a few steps, “I thought you were Jackson. How do you- how do you know where I live?”

“Jackson,” William shrugged, “He’s downstairs at Auston’s place.”

“What?” Avalyn questioned, not being able to process much of anything.

William smiled almost shyly, “Auston lives two floors below you. Jackson suggested that I come up and try not to be a dick.”

“Are you capable of that?” She regretted even asking the second the words left her mouth.

“I brought chocolate ice cream, if that makes a difference?”

Avalyn sighed and stepped away from the door, pushing it all the way open for him, “I’ll get bowls.”

William wasn’t sure what he expected from her apartment, but he didn’t expect it to be fairly empty. It didn’t feel like a home, more like a cold apartment, half furnished so someone could at least live in it. Even Auston’s place felt more like a home, granted that’s mainly because his mom and sisters came to decorate when he first got it.

“Sorry, I-” Avalyn shook her head, “I’m still trying to get settled or whatever.”

William nodded and shoved his hands in his pockets, watching as she started dipping the somewhat melted ice cream, “I get it.”

He eyed the bookshelf, which seemed to be the one piece of furniture that she really put some thought into. There didn’t seem to be any space for any more books, some even seemed to be doubled up. He smiled slightly, there was something human about her after all. He thought back to Jackson saying that she hadn’t been able to be herself in a very long time. Maybe this was a rare glimpse at who she might be.

“So uh- Jackson told you to come up here?” She asked, not really understanding what was happening.

“Something like that,” William replied, “Are you watching one of our old games?”

Avalyn felt her face turn a little red as she handed him one of the bowls, “Well, it’s hard to go to an actual game, no one really knows that I’m here yet. Besides, I can watch more online and I get the option to replay things.”

He looked at her for a second, watching the way she started to eat big spoonfuls of her ice cream. She didn’t seem at all like the person he’d seen earlier today, or the person he’d been told about. Maybe she had a point when she told him that he should at least try to hear her side of the story.

“You said I didn’t know your side,” He said abruptly, “So, what is your side?”

She stopped eating for a moment and took a deep breath, “It’s complicated, and messy, like Shakespearean level messy. We all knew each other as kids, Jackson, Margret, and I. The three of us started around the same time, landed a few roles together and just kind of became best friends. We did everything together, and would’ve done anything for each other. Things changed, Jackson and I did some things to protect Margo that should really stay between the three of us...and I don’t know. She just took it all the wrong way and was convinced that I took Jackson from her, which isn’t the case. But she wouldn’t let either of us explain, things just ended up getting really out of had.”

“So all of this over that guy?” William blew out a breath, “No offense, he’s cool or whatever, but he isn’t worth all of that.”

“She said some things on the record and got blacklisted,” Avalyn added, “Everyone says she’s a terror to work with, among other things. She blames it all on Jack and I. It is what it is. You can believe me or not, I don’t care.”

He looked down at the small coffee table. Notebooks were strone all across it, drawings and neat handwriting covered all of the pages. He noticed the diagram of a rink, along with explanations all around it. He couldn’t help but pick it up and look closer at it.

“So, how much do you know?” He asked.

She leaned back into the couch, “Not enough. The technicalities I understand, the mechanics and how the game is supposed to work. But the lingo and how it actually works, that I’m lost on.”

He smiled lightly, “Yeah, that I can help with.”

She watched as he leaned forward and grabbed her notebook and laptop. He closed the windows she’d been flipping between and instead pulled up a movie. He smiled lazily, putting his feet up on the coffee table, “This is the first step.”

“What is this exactly?” She questioned.

“This is Slap Shot. We’ll watch the Mighty Ducks, Goon, and Miracle later. But to understand a hockey team, you have to at least see Slap Shot.”

“I-” She shook her head and pulled the blanket from off of the back of the couch, “Okay, if you say so.”

“For the record, I still think you might be a stuck up bitch,” He shrugged, “But you were right, I do want what’s best for the sport, and my little sisters would actually fly over here and murder me if they found out I refused to help you.”

Avalyn couldn’t help but smile lightly, just the slightest up curve of her mouth, “I still think you might be a selfish prick, but I want the crew to be taken care of.”

“Then I guess it’s settled.”

A week later, Avalyn found herself sitting at a table with William and other Maple Leafs, as well as various members of the cast. They were all laughing at stories that the hockey team was telling, mainly of things they did in their youth.

As Avalyn sat laughing, she realized that this was more than just a team, they were a family too. A close knit band of brothers. Jackson used to talk about how his old team was like that, but Avalyn hadn’t seen anything like it before. She wasn’t used to a close knit family unit like this, especially given how her parents raised her.

Her notebook was still open in front of her, sometimes she would jot down a few things, especially hockey slang that she wasn’t yet familiar with. But she could say, without a doubt, that she was beginning to feel like she was a part of something bigger than just her. Something that went beyond the crew too. Because they had a whole team working with them too.

“So you two worked it out?” Mitch asked, gesturing to Avalyn and William.

“Uh-” William scratched the back of his neck.

“More like, called a cease fire,” Avalyn clarified.

“Better than all out war,” Jackson joked, “Avey, we’re all going to get on the ice later today, you should come.”

She shook her head, kicking Jackson under the table. The last thing she wanted was to get on the ice for the first time in front of professional hockey players. She hadn’t skated in years, not since her and Jacky were kids. She didn’t want to embarrass herself, especially after she just got William to somewhat like her.

“I think I’ll pass for today,” She said nervously.

The rest of the team and cast kept chatting, while William leaned over to Avalyn, “You can’t skate, can you?”

She felt her face turn red, “I can...I just haven’t since I was a kid.”

“We won’t let you fall, you know.”

She shook her head again, “I don’t want everyone to see me fail.”

“We all had to learn too you know, and some of the guys taught their girlfriends at the last family skate,” William explained, “We rented out the whole rink, it’s part of learning the ways of the team.”

She still shook her head, “You just want to make fun of me.”

“Well actually I wanted to help you, but if I get to laugh at you that’s a bonus,” He explained.

“Asshole.”

“Bitch,” He smirked, “Avalyn is gonna come!”

“Hell yeah!” Mitch cheered, “You can ride over with me and Aus.”

“I hate you,” She whispered to William.

“Yeah yeah, we established all of that.”

But the truth was, she was starting to dislike him less. They talked nearly everyday, sometimes he’d come to her apartment, and sometimes she would go to his. He would send her highlight clips, and ask if she understood what was going on. They would facetime so he could walk her through things, and she even made sure that she could watch his games, just so she could get more exposure to the sport.

It was strange, she wouldn’t call them friends at all, but they weren’t enemies. Truth be told, neither of them knew what they were. But they wanted to do right by the show and by the small hockey community around the world. They never talked about Margot, but William slowly started to talk about his family and growing up in Sweden, and in other parts of the US because of his father’s hockey career. She liked hearing about his life, more than she thought she would.

A few hours later, she found herself sitting on a beach just off of the rink. She had her skates on, but didn’t exactly know how to lace them up, and Jackson was nowhere to be seen. So she sat helplessly, hoping he would find her before one of the other guys did.

“You can’t tie them, can you?”

She groaned before turning to the blond Swede before her, “Why is it always you?”

He shook his head before bending down in front of her, “Give me your foot, I’ll tie it. It’s supposed to be tight, okay? But not so tight that you can’t move.”

He started jerking on the laces, pulling each section as tight as he could, and then loosening some that he felt he got a little too tight. Avalyn tried not to think about how close they were, her foot was caught between his arms, the blade of her skate pushed into his chest. It almost felt too intimate to her. Like her skin would start crawling. But her skin instead seemed to burn with his touch, she could feel her whole body heat despite the cold temperature of the rink.

“How’s that?” He asked, releasing her foot, “Not too tight?”

She wiggled her foot a bit, her ankle felt secure, not limp like it did before he tied them, “Uh no, I think it’s good.”

“Alright, good,” He nodded his head, “Other foot, and then we’ll get you out there.”

“I still don’t want to go out there,” She stated.

“Do you want me to hold your hand?” He teased.

“William, I’m serious, I haven’t skated since I was a kid. Even then I sucked ass,” She explained, “I’m going to fall and literally break my butt and everyone is going to laugh at me. You guys are professionals, you literally do this for a living. I don’t know how to skate on a blade that’s an eighth of an inch thick.”

He looked up at her, “I’m surprised you know how thick the blades are.”

She shrugged, “I told you I’ve been doing my research.”

He sat back, putting her other foot back down on the ground, “I won’t let you fall, okay? But even if you do, it’s fine. We fall sometimes too. I’ll even let you use the little kiddie rails too.”

She shook her head, grabbing onto the bench, “I think I’m going to stay right here.”

He held out a hand for her and flashed a big smile, “C’mon Avalyn Bradshaw Kreitzburg, I didn’t think you were one to back down from a challenge.”

“Avey!” Jackson yelled from the other side of the rink, “Get your ass out here!”

She took a deep breath, grabbing William’s hand, letting him pull her up, “Just don’t you dare laugh if I fall.”

“Yes ma’am,” He replied, “You better hold on tight though.”

#william nylander imagines #william nylander fanfiction #nhl imagine #nhl fanfic #hockey imagine #hockey imagines #hockey fanfic #hockey fanfiction #toronto maple leafs imagines #toronto maple leafs imagine #toronto maple leafs fanfiction #toronto maple leafs fanfic #nicolewritesthings

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milkywvy · 3 years

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⇒ superNOVA! is the debut mini album from fictional idol NOVA. Released on 1st June 2021, the album marks the first solo debut from any MILKYWAY member. It is available both digitally and physically and consists of 5 tracks, with ‘Cynicism’ acting as the title track. Each song had a track video, all of which broke 12 million views within the first 24 hours of their release. The music video for Cynicism broke 20 million views within 16 hours of its release, making it the fastest music video by an artist under Nostos to do so. Cynicism was promoted for the entire month of June and received 3 music show wins, peaking at number 5 on the music charts. The album itself peaked at number 10 on the music charts. It was deemed a commercial success and left fans anticipating what NOVA would do next in her solo career.

⇒ TRACK LIST

Intro: Addict | 1:52 | insp.

Cynicism | TITLE | 3:30 | insp. | choreography

the perfect crime | promotional b-side | 2:56 | insp.

Cool Girl | 3:19 | insp.

Reason | 2:54 | insp.

⇒ ALBUM CONTENTS

1 sleeve, 1 disc, 1 photobook (72 pages), 1 lyric sheet, 1 ‘The Making of superNOVA!’ booklet (45 pages), 1 of 4 photocards (random), 1 lenticular card, set of 5 postcards (Behind The Scenes photos taken by NOVA), 1 of 5 mini track posters (random)

First press limited inclusions (only 50 available):

1 of 2 polaroids (Behind the Scenes photos of NOVA taken by ?)

Handwritten message card from NOVA

CLICK HERE FOR YOUR SUPERNOVA! PHOTOCARD

⇒ STYLING

Blonde NOVA! She was blonde for the first week of promotions, after which she dyed her hair back to black except for front pieces that framed her face to match the look she sported in her track videos.

Everything was custom made for her, she worked really closely with the designers to make sure that everything fit her vision.

⇒ ERA NOTES

The album was released on NOVA’s 10 year anniversary of first becoming a trainee. The debut showcase was emotional.

Her being the first member to get a solo debut was both surprising and not at the same time; she made no secret that she’d always wanted to be a solo artist but Starbursts thought that the fact she hadn’t already had her solo meant it was never coming.

A total labour of love - her favourite people worked on the album with her, most notably Yujin, Dal from Headcount, and Minhyuk and Cheol from nycterine.

NOVA pretty much had full creative control over the whole project. She had to push really hard to make sure each song got a video.

She spoiled basically the entire thing on one of Dal’s Instagram lives like 2 weeks before it was announced but the two of them were so excited no one could even be mad at her for it. They talked about how they had worked on so many songs together that it was hard to cut it down to just the ones that were on the album.

The ‘Making of superNOVA!’ inclusion was really important for her - she wanted to make sure that everyone could have access to the full thought process behind the songs and the videos and all the work that went into them. All the creatives who worked on the album had sections where they talked about their process - Yujin, Dal and Minhyuk and the production, Yujin and Cheol and the songwriting, the directors and the track videos, the designers and the costuming etc. And of course NOVA talked about her side of those things too.

NOVA’s pre-debut dance crew worked as her backup dancers, she was featured in a lot of their TikToks and you could tell that some of her old friends really missed working with her.

NOVA doesn’t cry on camera but she got pretty teary eyed, especially for the first win. Her labelmates, Min, Cheol and even Jaesuk stayed on stage with her during her second encore it was sweet like that’s their girl. Byeol got to hand her the trophy for her third win and she stayed for the encore stage too - she was actually crying more than NOVA.

She also gave Dal one of the trophies because the song was his too - this wasn’t publicised but some fans clocked it on the shelves in his studio and Twitter kinda blew up a lil bit about it.

Basically she’d never been had more fun or been happier to clock into work.

#`☆ « my imagination becomes the universe » — disc #`☆ « my imagination becomes the universe » — nova #idol oc #idol au #fictional idol community #kpop idol oc #kpop oc #idol addition

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harrypotterximagines · 3 years

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Hey! I wanted to ask if you do Oliver Wood! If you do, could you please do an angst fix when female! Reader gets bullied a lot by the quidditch team in her house (She's not Gryffindor) bc of Oliver, and she remains silent about it... And even though it's more than obvious that she's having a bad time, Oliver doesn't notice bc he's so focused on quidditch, that until one of her friends snaps at him! Fluffy ending pls!

A/N: I love this request so much!! Thanks for submitting! Please check out my Etsy shop for a personalized Harry Potter painting! CLICK HERE TO VIEW MY ETSY

__________________________________________________

“You’re going to choke on that pumpkin juice,” You said, looking down at Oliver.

Oliver covered his mouth with the crook of his elbow, big brown wide eyes staring up at you. He took a second to gulp before swooshing his arm down to his side, smiling up at you.

“Come to wish me luck on our match in a couple days?” He teased.

You jokingly rolled your eyes, crossing your arms. “Just the opposite, actually. You already know us Ravenclaws are going to whoop Gryffindor’s butt on the field.”

A petite girl with strawberry blonde hair that stopped at her neck giggled. You looked over at cheery laugh, your smile widening.

“You know us Gryffindors are undefeated,” Samantha spoke up.

You pouted your bottom lip at the girl, wishing that you were playing on the same time as her. Samantha has been one of your best friends since you arrived at Hogwarts.

“That is true,” You pointed out. “But not a fact.”

Oliver scrunched his nose up at you, his contorting to confusion. “Wait, what does that mean?”

Samantha scoffed, instructing Oliver to return his focus back on his breakfast to fuel up for practice later today.

You waved goodbye at your friends, your mood dropping as you exited the Great Hall. The overwhelming feeling of joy and happiness that electrified your body was quickly evacuating. Your body forced its way to the Quidditch pitch, cold air bitterly nipping at your nose. You wanted nothing more than to curl up in your room and sleep the day away. Although you adore Quidditch and could possibly see yourself becoming pro.

The dull gray sky and the dried patches of grass made the Ravenclaw team sweaters look blander than usual. Your team was lightly joking around, small chatter over-talking the whistling of the wind until you arrived.

“You’re going to get the ball into the hoop this time?” Your team captain, Randolph spoke up.

You sucked in a breath and took the broom your teammate extended out for you, the group quickly flying off into the sky.

The one Hogwarts house stereotype that you believed to be accurate was that all Ravenclaws were competitive. You watched as your teammates aggressively chucked quaffles, dodged bludger bats, and squinted through the mist to see that sparkling golden ball.

You forced yourself to get into the rowdiness, desperate to prove to your teammates that you belonged on the team. You understand that they expected a lot out of you, but sometimes it felt like you needed to sacrifice a limb to get their approval. You would leave Quidditch practices with bloody lips or bruised arms, overexerting your body to get the smallest of smiles from your captain.

You’ve only been on the team for about two years now, but even though you’re considered the “newbie” your skills in the sport were anything but. However, even though you never missed a single shot and tactfully watched out for any obstacles that may come your way, your captain kept barking at you.

You were ready to give up mid-practice. Either you were going to jump off your broom, purposefully crash into the ground, or bark at your captain back. All options seemed desirable and you were debating which one you were going to take up. The fantasy of ditching your team and going back to your friends in the Great Hall dampened your mood even more. The realization that most of your friends, who were Gryffindors, were going to be rolling onto the pitch soon.

Just when you were going to bring your focus back onto the match, an obnoxiously loud clapping noise echoed into your ears. Staring right at you was Randolph, looking extremely pissed. You could practically see the steam coming out of his ears. His face was blazing, rosy red cheeks a physical symbol for his anger.

“Where the hell is your head at!?” He snapped, eyes wild.

“I swear, for these past previous practices all you’ve been doing is looking like a fool floating in mid-air! Do you just take all your energy and impress me for the first half of the match to only self-destruct and spiral!? Do you not understand that I need your focus to be on the team from the moment you step onto the pitch till you reach those locker rooms at the end?”

You stared at your captain, jaw unhinged. If you all weren’t so high up, flies would be nesting into your gaped mouth. You licked your dry lips, unsure of what to say. Your captain stared at you for a minute longer, expecting an explanation, and when not a peep left your lips he shook his head, flying away.

You silently cursed at yourself, biting back tears. There was no point in crying. Your team would make it harder on you anyways. For the rest of the match, you tried your best to keep up with everyone else. However, it seemed that the team sensed your frustration, tension thickening the skies.

When the familiar whistle was called to end practice, you were first to fly straight towards the ground. Once you dismounted your broom, a familiar shout called your name.

Oliver and Samantha waved at you, coming up and tackling you with a big hug. You stiffened, the unexpected love and appreciation wanting to make you breakdown on the spot.

Samantha quickly noticed your mood, examine your face whereas Oliver chirped on about how well you did up in the air. You clenched your jaw, softly thanking Oliver for his kind words.

“Are you okay?” Samantha whispered, taking a step back.

A few other Gryffindor team members came to your side, congratulating you on a successful practice from their point of view. Oliver began to preach his daily sermon about the importance of stability and control in the air, claiming that you were one of the few people who knew how to incorporate the gravitational pull versus the body’s balance when flying. He seemed so lost in his own mind space that when Randolph came over to yell at you once more, he didn’t notice.

“You need to do better. Or else we’re going to have no choice but kick you off the team,” Your captain spoke up.

Samantha stared shockingly at your team captain, surprised by the words he was spilling out. Her fists balled, ready to fight in your name when you held her back.

“Seriously. Get your head in the damn game,” Randolph scoffed, leaving you speechless as he walked off.

“Are you serious?” Samantha spoke up once he was out of earshot. “Is he always like this or just to you?”

You blinked a couple times, trying to dry your eyes. You shook your head, not wanting to get into it. You gave Samantha a very obvious fake smile, exclaiming that you were okay and needed to hit the showers.

“No, this isn’t okay!” Samantha bursted out, eyes wide and upset.

Oliver stopped chatting, looking over at Samantha confused.

“What do you mean? I thought we had our game plan down pact since last week-”

“Shut up, Oliver!” Samantha hissed, rage filling her body.

“I’m talking about the way how Randolph is treating our friend!”

A look of defeat washed your features and it seemed that Oliver noticed. He took a step closer to you, lifting your sunken chin with his finger, bringing your eyes to his own.

“What is he doing to you and I will speak to him,” He said in a low yet demanding voice. His cheery attitude was gone and pure concentration and tension stiffened his features.

“Oliver-”

“No, tell me.” He said, cutting you off. “Please.”

You licked your lips and began to explain the past couple of weeks. You could see in both Samantha and Oliver’s faces that they knew the way you were being treated wasn’t right. Once you were done speaking without any interruption, Oliver instructed Samantha to start practice without him and that he’ll be back soon. Samantha nodded and gathered the team, taking off. You looked up at Oliver like he was nuts, not understanding why he wasn’t up in the air with the rest of his crew.

“We’re going to bring this to Madam Hooch, okay?”

“Oliver, I can’t do that. I can’t let my team think I’m being a tattle-tale.”

Oliver scoffed, bringing your body close to his. His strong arms wrapped around your waist, his chin resting on your shoulder.

“You deserve to have your voice heard. I’m not going to stand here and allow you to take the abuse. You’re a brilliant player and it’s time that you stop forcing yourself in the shadows.”

You released a shaky sigh at Oliver’s words of encouragement, hugging him tightly back. Once he unglued himself to you, he firmly held your arms, kissing your forehead.

“We’re in this together.”

#oliver wood #quidditch #ravenclaw #gryffindor #quidditch captain #harry potter #harry potter imagine #oliver wood imagine #oliver wood fluff #harry potter fluff

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sailorbellewrites · 3 years

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Jawbreaker

characters — taehyung x reader (aka kiddo) (ft. members of bts)

summary — taehyung thinks dating you is easy and it is, until it isn’t. then he doesn’t know what to do.

wordcount — 8.3k

information — one shot. fluff. femme reader. character inspired by megan thee stallion, cardi b, and lil’ kim. direct sequel to more than you can chew. makes references to no limit. part of the baking news au.

warnings — strong language. mean & aggressive characters. casual mentions of sex and sexual behavior (but no smut because i’m shy). light angst. excessive mentions of the color pink. vague mentions of other celebrities and influencers.

author’s note — i meant to post this months ago, but it just didn’t want to get written. it was actually meant to be attached to more than you can chew, but it just would have been a beast of a story. i actually rewrote this part roughly three times and i am sure there are still some editing mistakes. i’m so sorry for the long wait. i’m not very happy with the final product. i promise the next story will be better.

jawbreaker —

Taehyung really likes you.

It’s not a secret. Everyone knows it. He would shout it from the rooftops if you let him—though you would never let him do such a thing. You were certainly the cooler head when it came to relationship intensity, knowing that if Taehyung had his way, you would be married already. “Oh my god, it’s only been five months,” you once told him in response to a picture of an engagement ring he had saved on his phone. It was a typical Tuesday night date, taking place in your studio as you fiddled with the hook of a track technically meant for Hoseok. “Calm down, lover boy.”

“It’s been almost six months and I just asked if you liked it,” he had replied with a small pout, pulling your chair away from your monitor and closer to where he was sitting on the loveseat. “Isn’t it good for me to know what you like?”

“We’re not there yet,” you replied simply, shaking your head at the way he rolled his eyes at you, as though you were the one being ridiculous.

“I might as well know everything now, so I don’t mess up later. Right?” He questioned, grabbing your left hand in his and fiddling with your ring finger.

“If we make it that far,” you muttered, laughing lightly when he pinches you for your words.

“Answer the question. Do you like it?”

“Hmm…” you hum out, a small smirk settling on your face. “I think you can do better.”

Taehyung thinks he’s in love with you.

That is a secret. No one knows it. He would shout it from the rooftops if he were sure about it—sure that you would reciprocate his feelings, sure that you loved him back; but he’s not too sure. You were almost too cool when it came to the relationship, never going above and beyond the most basic of expectations. You answered every text, showed up to every date on time, and referred to him as “the boyfriend” on a few of your Instagram posts not related to music, but that was about it. And yes, his boss Seokjin had told him that you were putting in more than enough effort for a relatively new relationship, but Taehyung still found himself craving for more.

“But what more could she give you?” Seokjin asks during closing one night, his own soon-to-be fianceé (if everything went according to plan) mopping up the front of the bakery. Seokjin flips chairs on the top of tables, while Taehyung wipes down the now empty display racks. It’s a team effort that allows Taehyung to leave earlier, something he is always grateful for because he can spend more time with you. “Like do you want her to write a song about you?”

“I mean, yes.”

“You’re insane.”

“Just something, you know? Something more than studio dates and donuts. I feel like that’s all we ever do. What do you think, Noona? Am I asking for too much?” Taehyung questions, directing his words to the older woman up front.

She stops her mopping and shrugs, leaning against a wall as she mulls over her answer. Her eyes go towards Seokjin as finally states, “I’d have to agree with Jin. But we have half of our dates in the kitchen after hours, so maybe we’re the wrong people to ask.” Taehyung sighs, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “If you’re not feeling satisfied, though, you should just talk to her about it. You know what they say, communication is key.”

“I don’t know how she would feel about that,” he replies, imagining just how easy it would be for you to misunderstand him or write him off as needy—though he didn’t exactly think being needy for you was a problem.

“Aww, don’t be like that. You never know what she might say. She could surprise you.”

At this time, Seokjin flips the last chair on top of its table and moves toward his girlfriend with a cheesy grin. “Wow, what is this mess? You call this mopping? Have you ever mopped before? Have you ever held a mop before? If you needed help from a master cleaner like me, you could have just asked sweetheart,” he teases, grabbing the mop from her hand and pressing a sloppy kiss to her forehead.

His girlfriend cringes away from the kiss for a moment, but ends up leaning into the man nonetheless as she whispers, “You get what you pay for.”

He scoffs. “I don’t pay you.”

“Exactly,” she replies smugly, hand going up to pick dried frosting off of her boyfriend’s collar. Seokjin lets out a choked laugh, arm slipping around her shoulders and pressing her into a too tight hug. She pretends to struggle against him for a bit, before eventually wrapping both her arms around his waist and squeezing just as tightly.

Taehyung watches the silly display of affection with wide eyes, warmth flooding into his heart. The two people in front of him were so clearly in love that he couldn’t help but feel it too. It was plain as day. This behavior wasn’t something he was often able to do with you though. Taehyung understands well that no matter what he did or said to you, your responses would always be carefully calculated. He respects how methodical you are in the way you carry yourself, as though you are afraid something could go wrong at any moment. He knows it’s not easy, which is why his admiration for your handling of relationships in a notoriously cut throat industry grew almost everyday.

Yes, Taehyung knows he loves you.

Yet, as he watches the way Seokjin and his girlfriend begin to playfully fight over the mop, an intense love in their eyes, Taehyung finds himself wishing that you would let go and love him too.

People don’t always believe that you’re a rapper. They tend to assume that you’re Hoseok’s girlfriend or a groupie when they meet you, failing to make the connection that you’re the infamous Kiddo until they see you on stage. You know why, of course. You’re the only woman in your crew, you’re nowhere near as popular as the other guys, and you don’t dress like a rapper. Or at least, that’s what Yoongi told you one night as you shared a cigarette behind the bar after a performance.

“It’s the biggest thing holding you back,” he mumbled, the cigarette between his lips looking like it would slip out at any moment. You knew it wouldn’t, but you still eyed it carefully just in case. Attempting to quit had made you hyperaware of its presence, but you knew Yoongi wouldn’t let it drop. He was always so in control—one of many things about him that you envied. “You look like you’re ready to fuck at the drop of a dime.”

“Maybe I am,” you had grumbled back, eyes still on the cigarette. His words were trying your patience, though you didn’t know if your irritation was caused by their truthfulness or your desire to smoke. “Do you have a problem? Cause I can solve it for you.”

“I don’t care if you dress like a whore,” he snapped at you. “Goddamn, you’re being a bitch tonight. Here, take this!” He snatched his half smoked cigarette out of his own mouth in annoyance, shoving it at you. You accepted it happily, choosing to ignore his insults in favor of savoring in your relapse.

You had long ago realized that most of the men around you would never understand how you dressed. The clothes you wore for performances and photoshoots were provocative to say the least. Vibrantly colored lingerie, leather, lace, and heels most others would deem too tall for comfort littered your closet. Your hair was always meticulously styled and your nails were always done in extravagant fashion. You made sure that your outfits highlighted as much of your body as possible, keeping all eyes on you. It was a far cry from the hoodies and occasional leather jackets sported by your friends, but you didn’t care. Your clothes made you feel powerful. The image you had constructed and thoroughly maintained worked to push your career further, making you stand out in the sea of sameness that had become common for the rappers around you. But those in your circle never see it that way.

Taehyung does, though. Taehyung watches with rapt attention as you show him the new pieces you buy, listening carefully as you explain why certain tops have to be paired with certain bottoms for maximum effect. He wordlessly takes pictures of you with various filters and backgrounds, never complaining when you ask him to take more because you don’t think they are good enough. He doesn’t tease you when you get cold from the lack of fabric, nor does he yell at you when you have unfortunate wardrobe malfunctions like the guys. Instead, he offers you his sweaters or quickly adjusts your clothes before you can even notice the problems. Taehyung knows just how important your image is to you.

Or at least, you thought he did.

“What?” You question, tone edging on impatient as his reflection continues to stare you down in the mirror. You refuse to turn around and face him physically, trying to keep your focus on the highlight you’re attempting to apply in the inner corner of your eye without poking yourself. The tension in your small bathroom is suffocating, but you don’t want to act on it. An argument is the last thing you need.

“I always watch you do your makeup,” Taehyung answers robotically, eyes still on you.

“Yeah, but—”

“But?” He cuts you off, making you pause your motions in shock. He’s angry and you don’t know why. It puts you both in unfamiliar territory. While Taehyung has seen you angry a million and one times over small things relating to music, venues, promoters, and fans, you cannot say the same for him. The angriest he had ever gotten in front of you came when he suddenly had to pick up extra shifts at the bakery because a coworker had caused a car accident and that moment was nothing like this.

“Can you just stop fucking looking at me like that? I’m trying to concentrate.”

He lets out a tense laugh of disbelief at your words before exiting your bathroom and moving to sit on the small couch in your living room. He’s not surprised to find you following him less than a minute later—you were never one to back down from a fight and you both were in the beginning stages of one. When you position yourself directly in front of him, he drops his head to hands and averts his eyes to the floor in a desperate attempt to calm himself down.

“What crawled up your ass and died tonight?” You ask.

“Go finish your makeup,” he requests quietly, words stilted as he refuses to look up at you.

“Not until you tell me what’s wrong.”

“It’s nothi—”

“It’s not nothing. Don’t lie to me. You can’t even look at me right now.”

Taehyung’s head shoots up at your words, jaw clenching as he realizes his efforts to stay calm were futile because he can’t look at you without feeling another wave of anger crash over him. “Your outfit,” he bites out.

“My outfit?” You parrot back to him in sarcastic disbelief. “You’re staring at me like I fucked your best friend and murdered your mom over… an outfit?”

“You might as well have,” he mumbles under his breath, before stating a bit louder, “It’s lingerie.”

He says it as though it’s obvious, but it’s not to you. “I-I… a-are you serious?” You stutter out, mind still trying to process his words. Taehyung doesn’t verbally respond, choosing to move his eyes back to the floor instead. You wrack your brain for the right thing to say, because what you actually want to say would likely lead to a breakup and you absolutely don’t want that to happen. You feel as though you’ve been transported into a particularly cruel episode of The Twilight Zone, where you watch your perfect boyfriend turn into one of your evil exes right before your eyes. “I… I wear lingerie for shows all the time. You’ve never had a problem before this. Hell, this covers more of me than what I was wearing earlier today. You didn’t seem to mind then.”

“It’s different.”

“How?” You shout out, frustration evident in your tone.

“You wore that for me a month ago,” he replies, looking up at you incredulously. His blood began to boil the moment you opened your apartment door, immediately realizing that you had planned to perform in the black lace set. You were even wearing the same black and gold heels with it. He knew for a fact that you bought the lingerie for him, a slightly belated birthday present given to him in your studio. You made him cum as many times as it took to get tears running down his face, then took him to your place and cooked him his favorite food for dinner. He almost told you he loved you then, but decided against it lest you believed he was exaggerating his appreciation for your actions. It was the single most sentimental thing you had done for him in your relationship thus far and you knew just how sentimental Taehyung could get. In his mind, you should have known better than to think that he would want to share any part of that night with the world.

You look down at your clothes, eyes acknowledging that it was indeed the set you purchased with his birthday in mind. It took you hours to find, trudging through the bitter cold to four different lingerie stores before you settled on it. However, you still didn’t see the problem. “So what? It’s not like it has your cum stains on it or anything.”

“God, do you always have to be—don’t be crude right now. I’m being serious,” he grits out, feeling intensely out of control.

“Well what would you prefer I say?” You ask, exasperation heavy in your tone. You feel tired and annoyed, knowing this argument might affect your performance later in the night.

“I want you to say that you’ll change.”

“No,” you reply after a beat, a dark laugh surrounding the word, though it lacks any humor. “No fucking way. I’m not changing.” You couldn’t believe that he was asking you to do such a thing. It wasn’t the first time that a person you were dating had made such a request—in fact, your ex had made the request often and it was equally as often ignored. However, it was the first time Taehyung had asked you to change and all you could feel was hurt. You couldn’t believe he fell so easily into the simple trap of insecurity that had tainted your previous relationships. “Look, unless you have a real reason for me to change, you’re just gonna have to get over yourself.”

“I just gave you a real reason,” he stresses bitterly. “And if you cared about me at all—”

“It’s not about caring for you, Tae! They are just clothes. They don’t do anything, but sit on my body and make me feel good. You, of all people, know that. It’s stupid to as—”

“It’s not stupid to ask you to keep some things private!” He yells, up on his feet with a fire raging in his eyes. You can feel your heart beating hard in your chest, nerves getting the better of you because you aren’t used to this level of rage from him. It’s a feeling both too familiar and too uncomfortable at the same time. It was everything you didn’t want in another relationship and everything Taehyung had promised not to be through his sweet words and actions—and yet you found yourself back there again. “You’re not wearing regular clothes or basic lingerie you buy just to perform in. You bought that specifically for me! You had sex with me in that. So now everyone at your show and everyone who follows you online is going to know exactly what you look like when you fuck me. I didn’t sign up to share that part of my life with the whole goddamn world!”

His rant finishes in a roar, the last sentence screamed so loudly that the final words come out hoarse and broken. His eyes are rimmed red, but he continues to stand tall, bracing himself as he expects you to respond in kind.

You don’t.

Rather, he watches you take a large step back and whisper, “Get out.”

“What?” He responds dumbly, unable to fully comprehend your words. It wasn’t in your nature to extinguish fights so completely, preferring to keep going until disagreements had naturally run their course or threats of violence had been made. You never walked away and you certainly never let others walk away. This was different. This hurt.

“You don’t get to yell at me over clothes. You don’t get to yell at me, period. So get out.”

You watch as Taehyung takes in the full meaning of your words, opening his mouth briefly as though he wants to argue more, but closing it again. Giving you a rough nod, you can do nothing but watch as he grabs his jacket, slips on his shoes, and exits your apartment, slamming the door in his wake.

Eight days. Eight long days. Eight miserable days. Eight long, miserable days of Taehyung slowly losing his mind. You had not spoken to him or seen him in eight days. Every single attempt he made to contact you was ignored. If it weren’t for read receipts and the fact that you had kept all the pictures of him up on your Instagram, he would have assumed that you were broken up. Although, at this point, he would have preferred a break up. At least, he could have made moves to win you back. This current situation left him stuck with nowhere to go.

“What do I do?”

“Well you can start,” Namjoon states, setting a pastel pink mug engraved with his wedding date down in front of his friend, “by drinking that.” Taehyung stares at the clear liquid inside of the cup curiously before shrugging his shoulders and taking a swig. His tongue instantly curls back into his mouth as his taste buds are assaulted by a strong, bitter flavor. He slams the mug back down on the coffee table with a gag. Namjoon lets out a chuckle at his reaction, sitting down beside him with a matching mug of his own. “Drink slow.”

“Is this vodka?”

“A strong drink for strong business,” Namjoon responds, taking a sip of whatever he has poured into his own cup. Namjoon had invited him over at the end of his shift, taking note of how much Taehyung had been moping around the shop. His mood was bad for business, apparently, and Namjoon was the ultimate fixer when it came to those sorts of things. “Now I think I know what happened, but can you tell me your side of things again?”

Taehyung throws his head back, staring at the ceiling as he recounts the argument once more. It’s all he’s been able to think about, hyper focusing on every sour facial expression and negative word you said. It makes his heart hurt; he misses you. “And then she told me to get out, so I did. I haven’t spoken to her since.”

“Ouch. How long has it been?”

“Eight long days and counting.”

“Damn, I guess she knows how to hold a grudge. Good for her,” Namjoon comments with a light laugh, as though he was impressed by your actions. Taehyung wants to scream, but he settles for a deep scowl. “But I really don’t think you have anything to worry about Tae. She still claims that she is very much taken. You aren’t broken up or anything.”

“I just want her to talk to me,” Taehyung whines, hands running through his hair in distress. “Ugh, I shouldn’t have left. I should have stayed and just fought it out.” Namjoon laughs at his words, but Taehyung continues, “I keep listening to her songs just to hear her voice, but it’s not enough. I don’t want Kiddo saying she’ll fuck me to sleep, I only want her.”

Namjoon snorts, nudging his younger friend with his shoulder. “That’s so stupid, Tae. You know you can’t have one without the other. They are the same person. If you keep separating her into different parts in your head, the two of you are gonna keep having these problems.”

Taehyung hums out a confused note. “What do you mean?”

“Your girlfriend is kind of like a jawbreaker.”

Taehyung grunts, reaching for his mug again. “Listen, if you’re about to describe all the ways she’s going to keep hurting me, don’t bother. Jungkook already did that—twice. And it was worse the second time around.”

“I mean the candy,” Namjoon starts, pausing to take another sip of his drink as he contemplates the best way to continue. Taehyung thinks Namjoon is the only other person in the world whose way with words rivals your own. He speaks with a certain amount of care and consideration that make Taehyung jealous. Perhaps, if he were more like Namjoon, he wouldn’t be in this mess. “A jawbreaker is this candy ball that’s really popular abroad,” he continues. “They are huge, big, and sweet—but hard. You can’t bite through them like normal candy. You’ll break your teeth or dislocate your jaw if you try, thus the name jawbreaker. If you want to eat it and enjoy it, you have to suck it down.”

“If this turns into some sex thing, I swear to god—”

“It’s a metaphor, you pervert. Keep up.” Namjoon chastises.

“You’re the pervert,” Taehyung mutters gruffly under his breath, taking a long swig of the vodka in his cup. “Fine. Continue.”

“Jawbreakers have different layers and flavors. The more you suck on it, the more layers you’ll get to experience; but at the end of the day, it’s still all the same candy.”

“I hate this metaphor.”

“You hate it because you don’t understand it,” the older man says sagely, giving his friend a slow head tilt. “It’s really quite simple if you think about it.”

Taehyung clicks his tongue in annoyance. “Just spit it out, Joon!”

“She’s a sweet girl, Tae. You and I both know that. You approached her because you were attracted to her, but you stayed because she’s obviously more than a pretty face. She’s just not always going to be that easy to digest though—at least not all the time. Sometimes you might get the layer that cooked you dinner for your birthday and other times you might get the layer that thinks nearly nude bar fights are appropriate. It’s still the same candy, just like it’s still the same girl. You have to take your time with her like you would a jawbreaker.”

Taehyung’s ears perk up at Namjoon’s words, panic shooting through him as he questions, “Did she get into a naked fight?”

“Last year. It didn’t start nak—don’t worry about it.”

Taehyung places his cup back on the table, dropping his head forward with a deep sigh. “So you’re saying I just… have to wait this out until she’s ready to be with me again?”

“Well she hasn’t technically left you yet.”

“And you’re sure there is nothing else I can do? There’s nothing here that I’m missing? I don’t want to wait anymore. I just want to be with her.”

“I know that, but if you want to be with her, you just have to accept who she is. Don’t think she’ll change or come running back to you just because you do something extravagant. She’s not gonna suddenly see your point of view or be rescued from her own bad judgement. You’re not actually her hero, Tae. That’s not how life works.”

“Things are fine when she’s not wrapped up in her whole Kiddo persona—”

Namjoon cut him off with an annoyed groan, shaking his head roughly. “You’re not getting it. You say you want to be with her, right? That means you want to be with all of her, including all the shitty ‘Kiddo’ flavors and colors that go along with it.”

“But—”

“Kiddo isn’t just a persona. It’s her. And if you don’t like it, maybe you don’t need to be with her.”

Taehyung wants to argue back, but can’t find the resolve to do so as guilt and shame begin to settle in his chest. He never consciously thought that his favorite parts of you were separate from your rap identity, but he couldn’t fight Namjoon’s words. While he respected the more sexually aggressive side that came with your career, he clearly adored the soft and sweet side of you more. He wonders, glumly, if he’s treated you differently because of his preference, only to be crushed by the realization that the argument proved he had been.

“I’m in love with her,” Taehyung murmurs quietly, making Namjoon sit up. Everyone knew Taehyung’s feelings for you were strong, but no one expected love to be in the cards. Sure, it had been closing in on a year in terms of a relationship, but on the outside looking in, things still appeared fairly casual between the two of you. Your behavior from day one hadn’t changed at all.

“Is that right? Are you sure?”

Taehyung nods, words coming out like a stream of conscious thoughts. “I love her. I’ve known for months. It’s just sometimes… I feel like I get more Kiddo than I do—I mean you’re right, they’re the same person, she’s just one person. I just wanted something that didn’t have to be a part of her image for once. I was never trying to control her or separate her, but I just…” He stops when he can no longer think of what to say, leaning back into the couch with his eyes going up to the ceiling.

“I know,” Namjoon states suddenly, “and she knows too. She’s not innocent in all of this. I told her as much when I saw her.”

This information shocks Taehyung. “You spoke to her?” The older man hums an affirmative sound and nods. “When?”

“A few days ago. She came into the bakery.”

“She came in?” Taehyung asks, voice increasing in pitch as he turns to fully face Namjoon. “Where was I? Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

“Calm down, Tae. You were off. She just wanted donuts, but didn’t want to see you,” he answers with a mild shrug. “It’s probably better that you weren’t there. Jungkook refused to serve her and then Hoseok started arguing with him and threats started flying—it was a mess.” Taehyung groans, knowing that if anything, Jungkook’s actions only made you more angry at him. “But Jin and I were able to calm things down.”

“Do I even want to know what she said?”

“To Jungkook? A lot. Your girl has a hell of a mouth on her. I haven’t heard some of the words she used in years. Seokjin was blushing.” Taehyung lets out a sad laugh, thoughts racing with all the possible things you could have said. Part of him wished he was able to hear all the things you had uttered and seen the shocked look on people’s faces, but he supposed it was better that he wasn’t around. “But to me?” Namjoon continued, “Not much. Things involving your sex life should be private. It’s just going to cause problems in the future if she keeps trying to bring it to the stage. She knows better.”

“So you told her I was right?”

“You were both wrong,” Namjoon replies smoothly. “You shouldn’t have tried to force her hand and she shouldn't have crossed that line. Neither of you were thinking of each other. You can’t be selfish in a relationship.” There is a beat of silence, Namjoon’s statement lingering in the air for a moment. “I know how some people feel about her, but I actually like you two together. In all the years that I’ve known her, I don’t think she’s ever been with someone who cares about her like you do.” Taehyung can’t help the small smile that tugs at the corner of his lips, nodding slowly at Namjoon’s words. “Just give her a little bit more time. Things will work out.”

He looks at you like he’s seen a ghost. He feels like he’s seen a ghost. It’s been ten days.

“Hi,” you say quietly. You come off as shy, eyes bouncing around the displays, but never settling directly on Taehyung even though he’s right across from you. It feels odd, not at all like how your relationship normally functions. Any other day would have found you leaning the entire upper half of your body on the counter, throwing out suggestive quips as you ordered in an attempt to make Taehyung stutter. Your current lack of confidence is startling, causing Taehyung to stare at you for a few seconds longer than normal as he searches for any changes in your face, hair, and shape. It’s only been ten days, but he knows just how much can change in ten days. Relief floods through his system when comes to find that—physically—you look just as he expects you to.

Finally, he breathes out an equally gentle, “Hi, stranger.”

The tease hits you harder than he intended it to, with your back straightening out and eyes narrowing. “I’m a stranger now?”

“Well, I haven’t seen you in ten days…” he trails off, the sarcastic lilt to his tone making you visibly bristle with discontent.

You should have expected the cold shoulder, given how long you had gone without speaking to him. You needed more time to process than you realized and going to your friends didn’t help. To say opinions were divided on the matter was an understatement. Some people were disgusted by what you wore, while others were furious with Taehyung’s behavior. You were most surprised by Hoseok, who normally sided with you when it came to relationship troubles. This time, however, he turned his nose up at your outfit choice and referred to the various ways Taehyung had attempted to reach out to you as “pathetic and underserved.” Yoongi had no strong opinions one way or the other, but his fianceé had plenty to say (which only served to rile you up again). She couldn’t believe how serious his demands were and how easily he left your house. She wondered, quite loudly, where the sweet and perfect Taehyung had gone.

But it was actually Namjoon’s words that dealt a huge blow to your ego. He dressed you down in a way that only he could, never raising his voice or calling you names, but calmly explaining all of your missteps to you until you felt smaller than a coffee cup. His final words had been running around your head for days: “I know it’s not what you’re used to, but sometimes it pays to be soft. You can’t have a successful relationship if you’re going to be so hard all the time.”

Thinking of his words once again, you inhale slowly to calm the little fires building in your heart. “I’m sorry for that,” you start, taking another deep breath before continuing by saying, “I shouldn’t have ignored you. It was wrong.”

Taehyung takes in a shocked breath of his own at your apology. He had expected a bit more pushback or an apology without actually saying the words. You were never one to easily admit when you were wrong, your pride being too strong for such casual admittances of guilt. Your repentance most often came in the form of covering drink tabs or ordering food. This sort of softness was new to him and all he could feel was thankful.

Leaning over the counter, he grabs your hand in his own and presses a gentle kiss to the back of it, smiling widely when you don’t pull away. “I’m really sorry too. I mean it. I know I must have told you a hundred times already, but I cr—”

“It’s okay,” you stop him, squeezing his hand gently so that he knows you are serious. “Namjoon said that we’re both idiots. We’ve said our sorries and I want to just leave it at that.”

Taehyung lets out a short chuckle at your words, pressing another kiss to the back of your hand because he finally gets to hold it again. “ Well, I would never call you an idiot. I’m more than ready to leave things be if you are. I really, really missed you.”

“I—”

“Hey Tae, can you help out in the bac—oh!” You let go of Taehyung’s hands quickly as he turns to find Jungkook standing in the kitchen doorway, a tray of bread in his hands and his eyes locked on your in a fierce glare. “You really came back here? What? Was there nobody to free off of at the Krispy Kreme?” He questions, audacity laced through his words. It was clear that there was no love lost between the two of you.

You roll your eyes dramatically, spitting out, “Bite me, bread bitch.”

Jungkook’s eyebrows raise at your insult, visibly tensing up. He opens his mouth to retaliate, Taehyung sharply states, “Don’t start!” Jungkook’s jaw locks in frustration, eyes shooting to his coworker in anger, but Taehyung keeps going. “Not right here and not right now. Seokjin will kill us. Bite each other’s heads off later, outside of the shop. Please!” Although there were very few people in the bakery, it was beginning to gain a small reputation amongst the older crowd for being a place for “rough housers;” Seokjin and Namjoon would crawl into individual balls and die if another incident occurred.

Jungkook clicks his tongue in annoyance, but otherwise relents, quickly placing the tray on the counter. “Hurry up and finish whatever this is. There’s a big takeout order of macarons that we need to get finished before five.” Taehyung nods in affirmation, a pleading look in his eyes that appeases Jungkook enough to send him back into the kitchen.

“I fucking hate him,” you grumble as soon as the younger man disappears through the door.

Taehyung turns to face you, reaching for your hand again only to find that you have shoved both of them in the pockets of your coat. “He’s just over protective, that’s all. You should have seen him when he found out who his sister was dating. Once you get to know him, you’ll se—”

“I don’t want to get to know him,” you state matter-of-factly. “He’s an idiot who thinks I’m using you for fucking donuts. Honestly, who would risk falling in love for donuts? They’re good, but they’re not that good. You can buy donuts anywhere.”

Taehyung stiffens, mouth dropping open in shock as he takes in the full implication of your words. Did you love him too? You had never said anything even mildly similar to him. You didn’t talk about your feelings for him unless pressed and even then your answers were short. Confessions of desire and attraction were saved for intimate moments in your studio or his apartment, where no one but Taehyung could hear them. Even then, they were often cushioned between jokes that led to him scolding you, telling to stop pretending that you didn’t like him. You never seemed close to confessing love, but your words made it appear as though you had been in love with him all along.

“Did you just… say you love me?” He questions quickly, mind still reeling.

“Huh” You question, the confusion that washes across your features slowly melting away as you come to realize the implication of your words. It doesn’t surprise Taehyung when you mutter, “I didn’t say that,” but his heart drops to the bottom of his stomach anyway. The small flame of hope he carried in his heart extinguished momentarily, as he mentally kicked himself for getting his hopes up. He was lucky you were even talking to him again—a declaration of love was just ridiculous. Life wasn’t a hallmark movie. He didn’t know what he was thinking.

Biting back his disappointment, Taehyung swallows before replying, “I misunderstood. That’s not even what you were talking about.” You blink slowly at his words, eyes shining as though you have something to say; however, you just end up biting your lip and casting your gaze down. “Just… please don’t even think about Kook, okay?” Taehyung pleads, wanting nothing more than to grab you in a hug or kiss your cheek to get the physical reassurance that things were completely okay between the two of you. Instead, he settles on asking, “Can I see you after work tonight? I get off at six and I can bring you some takeout.”

You break into a small smile, nodding your head once. “Bring a donut and some hot chocolate and you have a deal.”

You really like Taehyung.

It’s not a secret. Everyone knows it. You would write about him in all of your songs if you could—though, of course, you could never do such a thing. You didn’t want to subject Taehyung to that type of scrutiny, knowing all too well how many problems came along with dating a rapper when they weren’t waxing poetic about their relationships on tracks. People ate up those types of songs, only to place severe judgements on the rapper’s partner as though they were an expert. “You never talk about me in your songs,” he once told you, referencing a song called “Fiancé” that had been released by one of your friends. It was a typical Tuesday night date, taking place during closing time in Baking News as Taehyung mopped the floor around your feet. He taps your legs lightly with the edge of his shoe. “Isn’t that kind of weird?”

“It’s too much work,” you had replied, kicking your feet up so he could mop underneath them. He thanks you quietly, quickly getting to work so that you can lower your feet once more. “People are gonna read too much into it and make all of our lives a living hell. Just as Yoongi.”

“So you’re never gonna write about me?” He questioned jokingly, setting the mop to the side to hover over your seated form.

“I write about you,” you quickly retorted, craning your head up to look at him. He leans down and places a small peck on your lips, going in for a second with a small hum. “It’s just for my eyes and ears only.”

“Don’t you think I deserve to see?” He said, standing again to resume his task. From the kitchen, you hear the telltale sign of metal pans dropping. It’s followed by a loud, yet muffled “fuck” from Seokjin and the laughter is his girlfriend.

“I don’t think you’ll like all the things I have to say about you, lover boy.”

“Hmm…” he hums in a mocking way, facing away from you as he works on a particular sticky patch on the floor. “I’m going to disagree with you there. I like everything about you, even the cheesy love songs you write about me.”

“Who said the songs I write about you are love songs?” You quip, making him turn to you quickly and point the edge of the mop at you accusingly.

“Stop pretending that you don’t like me!”

You think you love Taehyung.

That is a secret. No one knows it. You would write about it in all of your songs if you were sure about it—sure that he would reciprocate your feelings, sure that he wouldn’t leave you high and dry when the going got tough and things had to happen that he didn’t like. But you weren’t sure; relationships were always a gamble and you knew the stressors would only grow when your career really took off. One wrong outfit choice had Taehyung turning into your exes right before your eyes. It made you wonder what would happen if you did the wrong collaboration or wrote the wrong lyrics. You tried your best to make it clear to Taehyung that you didn’t want to be in yet another awful relationship filled with fights and arguments, but it seemed like a real possibility regardless of your efforts. It was a tough pill to swallow.

And yet, as you stared at the lanky man seated on your couch, watching as he tried to sneak yet another picture of you wearing the custom, pink bunny ear headphones he got you for Christmas, you knew that you didn’t want to let him go.

“Put the phone away!”

“Just smile for me one time.”

“Stop.”

“I haven’t taken a picture of you in almost two weeks. My Instagram story is dying without. Let me take a picture.” He leans closer, laughing when you move to smack his phone on the floor, but miss.

You groan deeply, shaking your head at his antics. “It was not two weeks. You’re so goddamn dramatic.” You find yourself smiling for him nonetheless, legitimately laughing at him as he moves his phone around to catch you at different angles. After about 10 clicks of the camera shutter, you move to knock the phone away again. “Cut it out, Tae.”

“I’m not finished,” he whines out, though he still continues clicking away.

“Who died and made you paparazzi?”

“I’m better than the paparazzi. I’m your number one fan,” he murmurs, pushing your arms away from his phone. “You gotta get used to this, especially if you’re gonna be the number one rhyme killer in Korea.” He explains, bringing up a potential new tag Hoseok had come up with a few weeks ago.

“That’s more than enough for your Instagram story.”

He huffs in faux annoyance, leaning back on the love seat to scroll through all the pictures he took. “These aren’t even for my Instagram,” he reveals, tone still playful. “It’s for me only. I’m the only one who deserves to see you this cute. I gotta at least have that to myself.” You scoff loudly at this, anger filling your chest instantly. You know that he only means it as a joke, not realizing exactly what he was insinuating with his words—but it still stings, the wound from your previous fight not completely healed. “What’s wrong?” He questions, only to panic when you let out an annoyed grunt and turn around in your chair. It takes it a moment to click in his head, and then he’s sitting up, dropping his phone and pulling at your chair to try and turn you back around. “Baby, it was a joke. I promise, I didn’t mean it like that. I was just saying that I wasn’t going to put them on social media. Nothing more.”

“I didn’t know studio time had to be kept private too,” you reply sarcastically, planting your feet firmly on the floor to resist Taehyung’s actions.

“I didn’t mean that. Come here,” he says, pulling you with more strength until you’re facing him again. “Don’t be mad at me. You know how I feel about you. I wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.”

You shake your head, trying to remember Namjoon’s words and not start another argument. You fight to keep your voice level as you say, “Sometimes I think I know how you feel, but then you say things like that and I start to question your intentions.”

Taehyung is silent for a moment, eyes busily searching your face for something, though you cannot tell if he finds it. He reaches for both of your hands, cradling them in his gently as though they will break in any moment. “Don’t say things like that. You know my intentions and you know exactly how I feel.”

“I don—”

“I’m in love with you,” he interrupts you, squeezing your hands in his when he realizes what he’s confessed. You’re mildly shocked by his words, eyes widening like saucers. He takes your silence as rejection and starts to ramble. “If you don’t love me back, it’s okay. I’m not… you know I’ve been attracted to you for a long time, so of course I’d fall faster than you. But I can wait for you to fall in love with me too. I waited for months for you to even accept going on a date with me, so you know I’m patient. Just don’t question my intentions, I only want the be—”

“If you love me, then why do you want to have me all to yourself?” You question, voice meek.

He furrows his brows, irritation painting his features before they soften once more. “That’s not… I don’t want to keep you all to myself. That’s not even possible. You’re Kiddo,” he teases lightly, “Loved by everyone and belonging to no one.”

“But, obviously you want to keep certain parts of under wraps. For your eyes only, you know? And I just don’t get how you can say that you love me, but you want to control me like this.”

He sighs deeply, head falling forward as he admits, “It’s just… we don’t have anything, you know? We don’t have a single thing that we do that’s just our thing. Dates in the studio, hanging out in the bakery, watching old movies on my couch, even sex now—it’s all things we do other people too. And I know, I really know that your career comes first right now. I just sometimes want… more.”

You bite your lip, Namjoon’s words once again becoming prominent in your head. Removing your hands from Taehyung’s, you spin around in your chair to face your desk. Taehyung tries to stop you once more, his argument falling on deaf ears as you quickly grab the pink notebook sitting and hand it to him. “Look through it,” you order.

He stares at the book in his hand, knowing exactly what it is, but still unsure as to why you gave it to him. “Baby, what’s in here?”

“You said you want more. There is it,” you answer, before turning back around to face your monitor. The sound of pages turning makes you anxious, so you slip your headphones on and load up a messy track that you had been having trouble with. Time passes by slowly and your heart can’t stop fluttering as you think about all of the pages he has to look through and all of the words he has to read. Taehyung is thorough. He’ll give each page the time it deserves, regardless of how nervous you feel. Time ticks on. You turn up the volume on your headphones.

You do not know for certain how many minutes have passed when your headphones are suddenly knocked off of your ears; all that you know is when you turn around to berate him for his act, his lips are covering yours in a harsh kiss. You only briefly return the kiss, pushing against his chest to get him off of you, though he only moves an inch away from your face. “You’re in love with me,” he accuses wryly, a big smile on his face. His hands settle on your waist, squeezing gently in delight.

“If you tell anyone I let you read that, I’ll kill you,” you respond, though you can’t get the tone of your voice to reflect your words. His happiness is contagious and you can feel yourself soften in his embrace. “I’m serious, Tae. No one is allowed to read that notebook.” Your lyric notebook was something you kept to yourself, only sharing a select few pages with those around you when you were going to lay down vocals. For your eyes and ears only. Sharing it in its entirety with Taehyung was already a big step, never mind what you actually had written in there.

“But, wait. What are the numbers for?”

“What numbers?” You feign confusion.

“The numbers on the last page of the book.” You roll your eyes at his words and he nudges his nose against yours. “No time for lies now, I already know that you’re in love with me.”

“Days without cigarettes,” you mumble. His smile somehow becomes even wider, so large that you think his face might split in two. “I swear to god, Taehyung, if you tell any of the guys about this, I’m gonna beat the shit out of you myself.”

“I love you and you love me and you write love songs about me,” he teases. He hoists you up to your feet, pulling you into his body and wrapping his arms around you. You follow his lead, burying your face in his chest. “You’re even quitting smoking for me. How did I get so lucky to have a woman who loves me so much?”

“Stop it,” you whine, face flushing with embarrassment.

“Stop pretending that you don’t love me,” he whispers, hands moving up to cup your face gently. The way he looks at you reminds you of your first date. It leaves you completely vulnerable. “Thank you for trusting me with this.”

“Donuts and hot chocolate and lyric notebooks. That’s our thing. Nobody else can share those with you or me. Deal?”

“Deal!” He agrees quickly, leaning down as though he’s about to kiss you, but stopping short just before his lips press against yours. “I knew you were a softy,” he coos, pressing a kiss to your lips before you can reply. You allow yourself to enjoy it.

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