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qveerthe0ry · 2 months

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Lions Ain't the Kind - Part One

Summary: Frankie hasn't dated in years, but now he knows what he's looking for. He's just not so good at asking for what he wants, and you're willing to help him work on it. Word Count: 8,156 Pairing: Frankie Morales x NB/Gender-fluid! AFAB! Reader Rating: 18+ Explicit Warnings: 18+ mdni, subby!Frankie, soft dom! reader, talks about gender non-conformity, sickening fluff, Frankie is way too cute and sweet for his own good, kissing, making out, handjob (m receiving), anal fingering (m receiving), dirty talk, Frankie has a praise kink, no use of y/n, no physical descriptions of reader Beta: @perotovar (my angel ilysm) A/N: Sorry for talking about this for a month straight without posting it lol! The title is from the song (Let Me Be Your) Teddy Bear by Elvis Presley which I admittedly haven't listened to but I saw the lyrics and knew immediately it was my Frankie. I hope you enjoy, and I'm always open to criticism and thoughts and thots!

Frankie hasn’t dated in years. He hasn’t really had the time, between his first child being born and navigating co-parenting with his ex, along with healing some very deep trauma and getting and staying clean.

It just hasn’t been on his mind, if he’s honest. He’s been busy finding himself, as Pope calls it. And he’s not wrong. It’s taken a long while for him to be comfortable in his own skin, to come to terms with the things he’s done and the baggage he can now store in an overhead bin, rather than carry it around with him at all times.

But now, he’s ready. He knows himself, and as a result, he knows what he’s looking for.

Someone kind-hearted and down to earth. Someone who’s independent and established, but not just looking for a hookup. Someone with a sweet smile and a desire for enjoying the little things in life.

Someone like you.

He’d swiped right and left dozens of times on men and women alike, but as soon as he saw your profile on whatever dating app he’d downloaded, he was hooked.

You were gorgeous. He felt the heat from your smile through his phone screen, so happy and genuine and sweet.

You were funny, the answers to those weird icebreaker questions full of witty remarks.

You were smart, clearly, from your shoutout to your alma matter and the ‘boring’ job you mentioned in your profile.

He honestly figured he had no chance at all. His face is only getting more wrinkly, and his hair more gray, and he’s never been the sharpest or funniest guy in the room.

So when he swiped left and you matched, he was stunned. He was even more shocked when you messaged him before he could even think of what to say to you.

Hi cutie 🥰

Despite the fact that he was home alone on his couch, he had the sudden urge to look behind him, as if you’d be talking to someone else. The back of his neck got so warm, and your boldness only made him more into you.

So he messaged you back

Hi :) how are you?

I’m surprised we matched, honestly. Pleasantly surprised 😊

Same here :) Why the surprise though? I’m sure you match with everyone

Not at all, it’s hard to find people whose type I am on here. I usually use the queer dating apps but I opened this one out of boredom. What are the chances?

What are the chances, indeed, Frankie thinks, as he gives your profile another look over. Frankie doesn’t understand how you aren’t everyone’s type. He feels a little bit like he’s talking to a celebrity, looking at your pictures and just a snippet of who you are on this reductive dating app.

I like the odds :)

——

As your conversation continues normally over the next few days, Frankie learns a lot about you. He also learns a lot about himself.

It’s been so long since he’s played the field, so to speak, that he’s rusty as all hell and a bit awkward. He’s afraid to flirt too much, every message deleted and re-written at the risk of sounding too cheesy or too forward or too much.

You aren’t afraid to flirt. You send ‘good morning, handsome’ and ‘sweet dreams, pretty boy’ texts every day and night. You tell him your day would be better if you could cuddle someone, you tell him when you’re taking a relaxing bath that you wished he were there to join you.

And to say that Frankie likes it is a massive fucking understatement.

He adores it, he thinks about you constantly, all day long while he works without access to his phone, all evening long while he waits on your replies, all night long, when you’ve bid each other goodnight out of nothing but courtesy for each other’s sleep schedules.

You lead him along like a timid puppy on a leash, showing him new things with patience and care and it drives him insane. He wants to meet up with you so bad, or even just call you on the phone to hear your voice. He thinks about it, late at night, if it’s higher or lower in register, if it’s smooth or raspy. He wants to learn everything about you.

That being said, he’s not sure if he’s ever met someone who’s ‘non-binary/gender-fluid’ before. He doesn’t get out much, he hardly talks to anyone who he hasn’t known for years.

So he googles. It doesn’t really help. He understands what it means, but he doesn’t know what it means to you. He wants to ask you a million questions, but is afraid to bring up even one, and ruin the moment, or sound like an idiot.

You’re so kind though. So he bites the bullet.

Can I ask you a question?

Your response comes almost immediately, now that it’s evening time, both finished with dinner— his takeout vs. your leftover spaghetti.

Of course, pretty boy ❤️

He still flushes deep when you call him that, heat spreading all throughout his face and neck and chest.

How did you know you were non-binary/ gender-fluid?

He frets over the text a bunch before he sends it, making sure he worded it the same way you did in your profile. His heart pounds as he waits for your response.

I’ve always just kind of known I didn’t feel like a man or a woman. I used to think everyone felt somewhere in between, and it was just normal to not feel like I checked either box, but then I realized no one else around me felt the way I did. And then I learned all the terms and whatnot, later on, and knew that’s what I am. Just kinda in between, neither and both, sometimes one and sometimes the other. If that makes sense?

His smile splits his cheeks as he reads your in-depth response, eating up every bit of information you’re willing to give him.

That makes perfect sense to me. Thank you for sharing :)

It doesn’t scare you off?

Frankie scoffs, as if anything about you could scare him off. At this point, you could show up on his doorstep with a dead body in a bag, and he’d throw it in his trunk, dispose of it, and then ask if he could maybe kiss you.

Not at all. Nothing about you scares me :)

——

It’s a few more days before Frankie works up the courage to ask for your phone number. You tell him you were wondering when he was going to finally ask for it. It makes him itchy to think about you waiting for him to ask, making him be the one to do it. In a good way. In a way that kind of makes him stiffen up in his briefs if he thinks about it for too long.

But now, as he settles in from a long day at work, his grin splits his face from ear to ear as he reads your text.

Can I take you out tomorrow night?

He likes it… a lot. He feels so fucking new to all this, like a fumbling newborn calf taking its first steps, and how forward you are eases him so thoroughly.

I’d love that :)

Meet me here at 5 for dinner. Casual dress, but I’m sure you’ll be handsome in anything 😘

It’s the longest 22 hours of his life, and it’s the shortest, all at the same time. Texting you, making funny jokes like his bones aren’t about to creep right out from under his skin with all the nerves buzzing his body. Thinking about you, dreaming about you, one right after the other. When he wakes in the morning it’s like he didn’t get a wink of sleep, his anxiety drumming up a million different scenarios of how it could go right and wrong.

Calling Santi mid-morning on a Saturday when he knows he’s spending time with his family, because if he doesn’t talk to someone about this he may just float off into the ether.

“I’m so fucking nervous, Pope, what do I do? How do I act? Can you just stake out at the bar and feed me lines through an earpiece?”

“Pendejo, fucking— grow a pair man. You’re cute and funny, you’ve got this.”

Reading your texts with pupils shaped like hearts:

I can’t wait to see you tonight, cutie ❤️

and

I finally settled on an outfit

and

Is it weird that I’m not even nervous? I’m just excited to finally meet you

It is weird, Frankie thinks, but doesn’t dare tell you. It’s weird how he can’t even eat the plain toast he made for lunch without feeling bile rise in the back of his throat, and you’re just excited. It’s weird how he’s never, ever felt so gone over someone, and you haven’t even met yet.

It’s not weird, it’s sweet :) I’m excited too <3

It’s not a lie, but he’s omitting the truth a bit. He’s excited but he’s nervous, picking meticulously through his closet to find something casual but not too casual, something he likes the look of himself in, something he thinks you’ll like the look of.

It only gets worse as he stares at google maps. The restaurant is 2.6 miles away, 11 minutes from his house. It’s 4:30, and he wants to leave already, but thinks maybe it’s better to deal with the anxiety in the comfort of his home rather than the parking lot, in case you’re there early too, and you can see how much of a fucking wreck he is.

He watches the minutes tick up in the corner of his phone screen. At 4:36, he gets up, fusses in the mirror one last time, and leaves.

When he parks in the lot in front of the bar & grill, you’ve already texted him.

I’m here a little early, got all green lights. Saved us a table near the back. See you soon!

It’s 4:52.

He takes a deep breath through his nose, closes his eyes as he lets it out gently, counting just like his therapist taught him. And again. And one more time, and finally that anxious tingling in his fingertips is muted a bit and his heart rate is only slightly above normal.

4:54.

He pulls the key from the ignition, gets out of the car, and makes his way to the door.

He finds you instantly.

You’re looking at him, and you’re smiling, and getting up from your chair as he approaches you. He barely even hears you greet him with all his blood rushing in his ears.

“Hi, Frankie,” you say, and your arms stretch out to invite him in for a hug.

He melts into your arms, his strained “hi” muffled in the crook of your neck. You squeeze him tight to you, and he hears you chuckle next to his ear.

“Knew you’d be even cuter in person.”

He huffs out a laugh as you release him, and the tips of his ears burn. But you’re smiling so sweetly at him that it eases his nervous bones.

“You look— can I call you handsome?”

Fuck, he thinks, so fucking awkward.

But your grin gets even wider.

“Only if you mean it.”

“I do,” he sighs, “like straight out of the cologne ads I’d rip out of my older sister’s magazines.”

He holds his breath as you react, the flutter of your eyelashes and the quivering of your lips and your laugh, bubbly and bright and soothing.

And he isn’t lying, not even a little. You’re rugged but soft, romantic and alluring, and he can’t take his eyes off you.

Even as you take your seats across from each other, and the waiter comes to take your drink orders, and as your gorgeous eyes flit across the pages of the menu. He can’t stop looking, watching your mouth curve into a smile as you talk about your week and ask him about his.

It’s pathetic, really, when the waiter asks if you’re ready to order, and you ask if he knows what he wants, because he hasn’t taken a single glance at the menu himself. He just hopes to god the dim lighting of the bar hides his flushed face and tells you to order first while he skims the menu.

He ends up ordering exactly what you got, and floundering when your hand finds his on the tabletop. He watches your fingers trace his own from his nails to his knuckles, and flips his palm up for you to rest your hand in his.

“I’m glad you came out with me tonight,” you tell him.

His eyes flicker up from your joined hands to your smiling face, and his nerves completely melt away from the heat of your gaze.

“Thank you for asking me,” he says.

“Would you have asked me, if I hadn’t asked you?”

He bites the inside of his cheek, and there’s a teasing glint in your eyes.

“Eventually,” he nods, “I mean… probably.”

Your eyebrows turn up in question, and he realizes how that sounds, jumping to backtrack.

“Not like that! I just mean— You know… You’re uh… well, I feel like you’re way out of my league. And so maybe I’m a little… intimidated.”

You smile, then, and sigh, and squeeze his hand as you call him a sweet boy. It makes the room feel like it’s a hundred degrees warmer, like Frankie’s clothes are suddenly two sizes too small.

“You aren’t so good at asking for what you want, are you?”

He laughs then, and shakes his head.

“Not really, no.”

“We’ll have to work on that, then.”

He clears his throat, and tugs at his collar with his free hand, breaking his gaze away from your face as you chuckle. He looks to find a waiter, or maybe an HVAC guy that could crank the AC to sub-zero temps for the remainder of the date.

No luck.

The rest of the date goes well. Surprisingly well. Frankie was worried that he’d be so out of practice that he’d freeze up, or say something stupid, or do something stupid, like knock over a drink or get food stuck in his teeth.

But you’re just so easy to talk to, to click with. Of course, you’re the one who facilitates the conversation, asking him about his favorites— movies, TV shows, music, time of year.

But he likes to think that he keeps the ball rolling well enough, is aware enough to remember to ask for some of your favorites— holiday, food, cocktails.

By the time the check comes, he hardly realizes you’ve both had empty plates in front of you for a while, talking and laughing through your meals like you’re just catching up with an old friend.

He protests when you grab the check, because of course he does. You’ve given him this incredible night, your comfortable company, your sweet smiles, and he feels like his offerings pale in comparison.

“I asked you out, Francisco,” you tease him, having just learned his full name a mere 20 minutes ago.

And he can’t really protest anymore, what with the shiver that’s tingling his spine and the goosebumps he tries to hide by gripping the chair underneath him. So he lets you pay, and thanks the waiter, and feels a rush of sadness when they come back with the check to sign. He really doesn’t want this evening to end.

The apprehension falls second to the sensation of your hand on the small of his back, leading him out to the parking lot.

“Where’s your car? I’ll walk you there,” you say, your thumb pressing a soothing circle into the base of his spine.

So he walks to his truck, a little self-conscious about the out-of-dateness of it, and how he didn’t think to run it through a car wash before this. But mostly he’s just nervous about ending this date on a good note.

“This is me,” he says, barely above a whisper, stopping at his driver’s side door.

You smile at him when he turns to you.

“Thanks again for coming out with me. I really did have a great time.”

This makes him smile through the unease, even as your hand drops from the small of his back.

“I did too. Would you uh… wanna hang out again soon?”

Your face lights up, and Frankie wants to capture it in a bottle and take it home with him. Keep it at his bedside to use as a nightlight.

“Are you asking me on a date?”

He chuckles and looks down to his feet like maybe it’ll redirect the flush in his face. You grab his hand, hanging by his side, and luckily you don’t make him speak again because he doesn’t know if he’s even able.

“I’d love to. Really.”

He smiles when he looks back up at you, only briefly, because you drop his hand and take a half step back.

“Call me about it.”

“Wait!”

Your brow arches at him, because you weren’t really going anywhere, but Frankie’s mind is running a thousand miles a second. He thinks back to all the times you’ve goaded him into asking for what he wants, so far, and how it hasn’t bit him in the rear yet.

“Can we— I… Can I kiss you goodnight?”

Your smile softens, and you take that little half-step back closer to him, and he feels all the tension leak from his shoulders.

“Yes, you can. Thank you for asking.”

He huffs, and smiles at you, and you’re reaching out to cup his jaw and grab his hip, and Frankie closes his eyes far too early, but it’s okay, because he feels your body heat and then your lips.

He can’t hold back the hum that rumbles from deep in his chest, or the way that he goes a little boneless in your grasp. He finds your forearm and squeezes it, and your bicep too, anything to ground himself as your lips part and your tongue teases the seam of his lips.

But then you’re pulling back, and it’s over far too quickly, and Frankie is also acutely aware of how tight his jeans feel. His face feels like it could melt right off of his skull.

“Call me soon, Pretty Boy.”

He nods, speechless, and watches you disappear between the cars of the parking lot. On his way home, he’s already fretting over whether or not he should text you tonight, and what kind of date he should plan, and if his breath was okay when you let him kiss you.

——

Frankie is perfect.

You’re still not sure how you found this diamond in the rough that is Tinder. You thank every god you know the name of that you got bored and opened the app on auto-pilot that night.

First of all, he’s so cute. He’s handsome in such a boyish way, with his dimples and unruly curls and patchy beard.

But he’s also so kind, the way he talks to you like it’s a privilege, the way he asks careful and curious questions about you like he truly wants to know the parts of you that are deeper than what’s on the surface.

Every simple text from him makes you smile, the way he always tries to make you laugh or cheer you up when you’re overwhelmed with the demands of life, as you often are.

And meeting him in person solidified everything you thought about him.

He seems like the textbook definition of a golden retriever boyfriend, if you ever get to call him that much. You hope you do.

In fact, it seems like it’s moving quite quickly in that direction when Frankie asks if you’d be down for a movie night. Some blockbuster he missed in theaters is finally streaming, and he thinks you’ll like it.

You don’t tell him that you didn’t miss it in theaters, or that you thought it was just okay.

You do tell him you’d be down to watch it, only if he came to your place, where the walls are thin and your surrounding neighbors all know you and watch out for you. Just in case he’s really good at acting like a sweet, safe guy.

You find yourself giddy as the weekend approaches, daydreaming at work about how the night will turn out. You tell him to come in comfy clothes, because you’ll be damned if you wear jeans in your own home, even for this sweet man. He doesn’t seem to mind one bit, that’s my favorite kind of outfit :) is his cute response.

You get everything ready the day of; your coziest blankets hang off the arms of your sofa, your fridge is stocked with fresh fruits and your pantry with candy and microwave popcorn and chips (I’ll eat whatever you get :) his answer to your questioning of his favorite movie snacks, of course.)

And then you sit around and wait, excited nerves coaxing your body to straighten things up that have been straightened up a million times already. When Frankie texts you his ETA, you park yourself on the couch by the door and stare at it until there’s a knock on it.

You may count to ten before you get up to open it, just to hide how eager you’ve been to see him again.

Your throat does get a little dry when you answer it to find him in a dark blue t-shirt that hugs his arms and light gray joggers that hug… Other things.

“Hi handsome,” you smile, pushing down all the nerves and the less-than-PG thoughts.

“Hi. I um… I brought these. I noticed you ordered them on our uh– well, at the restaurant, and I didn’t want to show up empty handed.”

You watch a flush break out on his face, and his neck, and wonder how far under his collar it actually spreads.

He’s holding up a six pack of your favorite beers, and he’s smiling so shyly, and you have to crowd in closer to him to press a kiss to his heated cheek.

“That’s so thoughtful, thank you.”

He giggles— giggles, Jesus Christ— and you take them from his hand to let him come through the door.

You set the beers in your fridge to let them chill as he kicks off his shoes. You watch him from the kitchen as he takes in your place with his pretty brown eyes.

“It’s really cozy in here,” he tells you as he fiddles with his own hands.

“Snuggle up, get comfy, I’ll bring us some snacks.”

He nods, so obedient, and hovers by the couch before settling on the seat in the middle.

Sly move, you think, and you can’t hide your stupid grin as you gather some snacks.

When you turn off all but one lamp and deposit the junk food on the coffee table, you notice he’s inched himself closer to the arm of the couch, like he was second-guessing himself. That just won’t do, you think, as you settle in right next to him, so close that the length of your body is pressed against his.

He doesn’t look at you, just stares at the Roku City scrolling across your flat screen. For a second you think he might be uncomfortable, but the way his breathing is uneven clues you in on his nerves.

You reach over him to grab the blanket in the arm of the couch, and you feel his muscles tense up when you press against him.

“Frankie?”

“Huh? Sorry, yeah?”

“Are you okay?”

He squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head and sighs, heavy and long, before looking at you.

“I’m so nervous.”

He smiles in spite of it, lopsided, dimples so cute that your lips quiver with the urge to kiss them.

You smile back, and drape the blanket over both of you, patting his leg through it.

“Nothing to be nervous about, Francisco.”

It gets a laugh out of him, a huff through his nose, and his shoulders lower the tiniest bit. You slowly reach up to cradle his jaw in your palm, careful not to spook this little baby deer of a man, but his face leans into your touch.

“If it helps, I think it’s really sweet that you’re nervous.”

“Thank you… I think?”

You laugh at him, and watch as your reaction makes his eyes brighten. You want to kiss him. You want to smooch the absolute daylights out of him, but there’s still 3 hours of a pretentious movie to watch, and there will be plenty of time, if he’s amenable.

So you just pinch his cheek before you let go, and try not to look so smug at the heat that consumes his face as you get the movie up and running.

Fifteen or so minutes into the film, Frankie has relaxed into the couch, though he’s stock-still beside you with his arms glued to his own sides. You just want to cuddle, at least. You’ve been thinking about it for weeks— getting his warm, solid but soft body against your own.

You’re certain he won’t be the one to initiate it, but that’s all fine and dandy. You rearrange yourself a bit, and sling an arm over his shoulders. He looks away from the movie towards you, and you give him a smile that must be comforting.

He sinks lower on the couch, and leans against you, his messy curls pressed against your shoulder while his arm drapes over your lap. You think you hear his satisfied hum under the dialogue of the characters, and you let your head rest against his.

This is nice. Frankie’s so warm against you, the most comforting weight all lax against your side. Your hand creeps up from his shoulder to his head, and his hair is so silky when you finally work up the gall to run your fingers through it.

You can feel the way it affects him when he shivers and presses even closer into you. You watch the movie like that for a while, snacks untouched, fingertips stroking his scalp as his soft curls slip through your digits. Every once in a while his head tilts to look up at you, piercing brown, and each time you smile back down and ruffle his hair.

It’s just after the first big conflict of the film when you feel Frankie shift against you. His arm moves in your lap, and you watch his thick fingers grab your thigh over the blanket.

It shocks you how such a simple gesture makes your temperature rise. You hum and let your nails scratch more firmly against his head. You can hear him gasp, and feel him move impossibly closer, like he’s trying to fuse the two of you together. You glance down at him, past the curls you’ve lost yourself in, and his eyes are closed. Further, the curve of his nose and pout of his lips, his chest that’s heaving with his excited breaths, you notice a suspicious tent in the blanket, and you don’t want to assume, but the context clues are all there.

Frankie is hard.

You can’t blame him. You’ve been aroused since you pressed his body against yours, a slow simmering underneath the surface that’s made you feel so comfortably warm and relaxed.

You shift, and you swear you hear a barely-there whine leave his lips. You move just enough so you can press your free hand to his chest. Under your palm, you can feel his heart beating, a pace that’s concerningly higher than appropriate for sitting and watching dialogue in a movie.

His head turns toward you, his hair slipping through the grasp of your knuckles. He looks up at you with those puppy eyes and his pupils are so dilated that it makes you take a deep breath. He turns his body toward you next and there it is the hard line of his cock pressed against the outside of your thigh. You see him shudder at the friction, watch his eyes grow droopy as they flicker down to glance at your lips.

“Can I kiss you again?”

And he asks so sweetly, voice a little hoarse from the silence, that you couldn’t dream of denying him.

“Yes, Frankie.”

His lips tremble until they meet yours, so soft and chaste, a stark contrast to his scruffy beard and mustache. His breath hitches; you can hear it and feel it. His chest shudders under your palm and pushes air out to gust against your cheeks. You feel his prick, too, twitching against your thigh as your tongue peeks out to tease his pouty bottom lip.

He pulls back so much quicker than you want him to, but it’s also such a reward to look at him this close. His lips shiny, his cheeks flushed, his irises completely usurped by his pupils. His mouth hangs open and you can’t help yourself as you slide your hand from his chest to his jaw and pull him into you once again.

A surprised little noise works its way out of his throat, and his hips jerk forward, and then he’s groaning as his cock throbs against the outside of your thigh. The noise makes that feeling in your gut draw deeper, lower, and you make one of your own in response.

His hand rests dutifully still on your thigh, but you can feel his fingers twitching as your taste buds rub against his– a friction that has no right to be as delicious as it is. You want him to feel you up, to touch you all over, to give in to the desire that’s blatantly pressed against you. You want to hear these noises he seems to be holding back, the whimpers that just barely make it past his vocal chords before he cuts them off.

You pull away this time. Pride swells in your chest as you look at what you’ve already done to him. His curls are even messier now that you’ve run your fingers through them over and over. His eyes are all glassy when he looks at you, pouty lips slick and red.

He sits so still, aside from his heaving breaths, like he’s waiting for your command.

“Tell me what you want, Frankie.”

His eyes widen and christ, if they get any wider they’re going to suck you in like a supermassive black hole.

“I– I’m okay, I like this.”

You raise an eyebrow at him. He nods, trying to convince you, as he not-so-subtly pulls his erection free from its trap between his body and your thigh. His eyes cast downward, but you swiftly grab his chin in your hands to bring them back to you.

“Francisco,” you mumble, “ask for what you want.”

He gasps and bites his plush bottom lip, hard enough that there’s little indents when he opens his mouth. He shuts it again, and squirms against you, and finally opens it once more.

“I want you to touch me.”

His request comes out hardly above a whisper, all broken and breathy, and his gaze settles somewhere behind you.

“Is that all?”

He nods quickly, eyes snapping back to you.

“I swear– I just wanna feel your hands on me.”

Your smile widens as his face gets so serious, eyebrows knitting together.

“That’s good, that’s really good,” you mumble.

The shudder that visibly rolls through him is like a shockwave, sending every one of your nerve endings on-edge. You huff, an amazed little breath at this fucking guy in front of you, so responsive and timid and utterly fuckable.

“You like that? Like being good for me?”

He nods again, more apprehensive this time, but he can’t hold back his whine when his hips press against you. The possibilities of all the things you could do to this man stretch far and wide; it’s entirely overwhelming.

“Sweet boy,” you whisper, because he is, “c’mere.”

You pull the blanket off of you both, and Frankie reaches down to adjust himself so it isn’t so obvious, like you haven’t felt his cock twitching against you this entire time. It’s so endearing you think you could cry, but you’re much too turned on for sentiment at the moment. Instead, you guide him to straddle you, hands on his slender hips until his thighs cage your own.

For a moment you just watch as he sits patiently, obediently, waiting for your next words like his cock isn’t leaking a pretty little damp patch into his sweatpants. His chest heaves with every breath, and his tongue licks and bites at his swollen lips, and his eyes stay trained on your mouth in anticipation.

“So pretty,” you whisper.

His long eyelashes flutter at your compliment, and he turns his head to try and hide his reaction, but it doesn’t mask the way his prick twitches under gray fabric. Your hands find his waistband and tease the edge and you delight in the way he shivers.

You need to feel more, so you press your hands under his shirt and hum at what you find. A soft tummy and smooth skin that makes way for a small trail of wiry hairs. It’s all revealed to you a moment later when you hike his shirt higher, reach for pecs that are more solid than you imagined, and the smallest nipples you think you’ve ever had your hands on.

You look back up to his face for permission with a quirked brow, and he nods eagerly, grabbing the back of his collar to shed the material and bare himself and it’s so lovely. There’s so much tan skin, hardly any of it is obstructed by hair, just the errant freckle here or there. And you can’t help it, you have to lean forward and take one of his nipples into your mouth.

He gasps your name, but one of his hands finds the back of your head to keep you in place. You hum around the little nub, so small you have trouble getting your teeth to bite down on it, but you do and then he groans, his hips jerking in your hold on them.

“Is this how you wanted me to touch you?”

You lean your head back to look him in the eyes, to watch a pained expression flit over his face as he tries to come up with an answer he thinks you’ll like.

“I like this too,” he nods, “but I, um… fuck–”

He cuts himself off to hide his face in his hands. He is so cute and so sexy at the same time, it’s making your brain go haywire.

“Tell me, Frankie. Be good for me, Pretty Boy.”

He shifts on top of you as he looks up at your ceiling. You soothe your hands up and down his flanks and wait patiently for him to find the words.

He drops his hand from his face, fists clenching down by his sides, but he finally looks down at you and smiles, shy and sweet, just a hint of that dimple you adore rearing its head.

“Touch my cock? You got me so hard.”

You smile bright at his request, and nod, and press a kiss to his sternum.

“Anything you want,” you mumble, “just gotta ask. Just like that.”

He looks pretty proud of himself. There’s a twinkle in his eyes as you look up at him, and you take a playful bite of his skin and savor the gasp it coaxes out of him.

“Let’s get these off, yeah?”

Your fingers sneak under his waistband and his skin is so hot under there, searing. You only have a few moments to bask in the warmth before he stands up to remove his pants and briefs in one bashful move.

Jesus.

He’s so gorgeous, bare for you, vulnerable, excited. His foreskin is all pulled back, revealing a delicious looking string of pre-cum from his slit. You desperately want to lean forward and taste— but he didn’t ask for that, and you won’t give it to him unless he does.

Stunned a bit silent, you pat your lap, urging him to settle back over it. Much to your delight, he does, quick and obedient. An approving hum bubbles up out of your chest, and he preens as he sits on your thighs.

There’s a very wicked feeling in you as you stare at him, completely naked, while you haven’t shed a single layer of clothing. Control, and trust, and power. It’s overwhelming in a way that makes your lungs feel too inflated for your rib cage, to know you could take advantage of it, and to know you never ever would.

“Good boy,” you whisper, finally, testing those waters.

Frankie’s dick twitches between you two, and you huff and smile and wonder how something so perfect and precious has literally landed right in your lap.

He’s been more than good, and so with one hand you grab his hip to steady him, and the other takes his cock as gentle as ever. A sharp inhale inflates his chest as you stroke the smooth skin, a teasing, feather-light touch that makes his legs tense up in your lap. You watch him disappear and reappear through the loose circle of your hand, watch another clear droplet bead from his slit when you squeeze him tighter.

“Does this feel good?”

He’s watching your hand work when you look back up to his face. He nods, a jerky movement that seems to shake his entire body, and he’s so on-edge. You feel it in the way he shifts his weight on top of you.

“Words, Frankie,” you urge, a soft smile on your face.

“So good.”

You hum, taking in the way his eyes flutter open and closed, the way his adam’s apple pokes out when he leans his head back.

You reward him by speeding up your strokes. You squeeze his hip with your free hand, kneading at the soft flesh there, while you lean forward to press kisses into his virtually hairless chest. His skin is so hot it feels like it could burn you, flushed such a pretty color, just like you knew it would be.

He whines when you gather up more pre cum with your thumb and gently massage it into his frenulum. You look up to find him staring down at you with glassy eyes, bottom lip tucked tight between his teeth.

“Can we kiss more?”

His voice is breathy, and you nod, and a fresh wave of arousal flushed through your system when his lips eagerly meet yours.

It’s sloppier, this time. Noisier, too, as you tighten your grip on his cock and begin to properly work your hand up and down his length. You steal his breath and his noises straight from his lungs, feel every shudder he pushes out when you twist your wrist just right or squeeze tighter.

His hips start to meet your thrusts, rutting into your hand, such a desperate little thing on top of you, all for you. You want to encourage him to take his pleasure from you, and so you slip your hand back from his waist, find the perfectly pert globe of his ass with your palm.

“Haa— shit.”

His words muffle into your kiss as his hips stutter in rhythm and you lean forward to smirk into the bald patch of his beard.

“Yeah?”

A gasp wrecks through his heaving chest as he nods.

“Please, fuck— please.”

You hum into his jaw and squeeze his cock and his ass respectively.

“Please what, Pretty Boy?”

He leans back. You watch him squeeze his eyes shut and shake his head from left to right.

“Tell me what you want, Frankie. Know you can.”

A big gulp of air, and then he opens his eyes to look at you, then blinks them shut again as his head lolls back in his shoulders.

“Touch me there. I— I can’t—”

“Shhh,” you take mercy on him, bringing your hand up from his backside to cradle his jaw in your palm. He tilts his head into your touch and opens his eyes.

“I got you, sweet boy,” you remind him.

He nods in understanding, shifting to kiss the heel of your palm. You let him rest his lips there as he catches his breath, feel them quivering every other upstroke of your hand on his prick.

But as he makes to move, you hold his jaw steady in your hand. His eyes flicker back to your face, and you wonder if you look as wrecked as you feel, if he can tell how beside yourself you really are.

Slowly, so he can pull away if he wants, you trace the pad of your middle finger along the seam of his lips. You’re awestruck at how they instantly fall open for you, greedy, something you’re definitely looking forward to exploring more later.

For now, you watch with hooded eyes as he takes it into his mouth, tongue curling and lapping at it. You briefly wonder if fingers are erogenous zones, beyond turned on at how warm and wet the inside of his mouth feels, how he suckles and releases, bobs his head over and over until you snap out of it.

“Good boy. Fucking perfect,” you sigh.

He gets a cocky little goofy grin on his face at the praise, but his prick twitches against your grasp. You squeeze it for good measure, and more of his pre-cum dribbles over your knuckles.

You lean into him again, and he leans into you, holding each other up. Your mouth finds his pebbled nipple once again as his prick drags across your shirt and saturates it. He hisses at the friction, then gasps when your hand grabs his ass cheek again.

You pull it as best as you can with one hand. It isn’t too difficult with how it fits so perfectly round in your palm. You squeeze it, massage it, note how the littlest hint of peach fuzz feels against your clammy hand. You wonder how it would feel under your tongue, too, how it would taste, how the fatty flesh would feel between your teeth.

His hips stutter forward when your finger, slick with his saliva, strokes the very top of his crack. And you don’t mean to tease too much, but his jerky movements and satisfied sounds when you do are like music to your ears.

Finally you find his hole, fluttering around nothing, so little and tight, all for you.

“Ohmygod.”

Frankie sounds pained, so much so that you look up from nuzzling his chest to watch his face. His brows are drawn tight with how his eyes are squeezed shut, and his mouth is hung open, slick with a little drool around the corners of his lips. Without context, maybe he would look pained, too, but the way his cock throbs and dribbles in your hand paints a completely different picture.

And what a pretty picture he is, gulping for air above you, thrusting his hips back into your finger and forward through your fist, like he’s so out of his mind that he can’t even make it up.

You apply more pressure to his impossibly tight pucker and sink your teeth into his skin at the way he whines for you. You do it again, and again, a patient little rhythm until it relaxes and the very tip of your finger slips into his warmth.

He groans, clenching tight around you.

“Okay, Frankie?”

He laughs, a little puff of air, and you feel it where you’re inside him.

“Gonna make me come,” he chokes.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, don’t— fuck— please don’t stop.”

You hum into his chest, squeeze your hand tighter around his prick as you speed up your strokes. He’s groaning now, deep and low and constant, like he couldn’t hold it back if he tried.

You wiggle your finger against his rim, tugging him open for you, toying with the elastic muscle. He’s so pliable everywhere, opening up to you, happily taking what you give him.

In a stiff moment you think he isn’t into it, because he freezes up and goes silent. You make to slip out of him, but his warmth just drags you in.

And then his cock jumps in your grasp, and his hole clamps around your finger as he gasps your name, and he’s coming.

He shakes with it as he soaks your shirt and drips over your hand. You stroke him through it and marvel at the way he feels in your grasp and around you, violent waves of pleasure that you can sense where you touch him.

You look up to watch him tremble through it and he’s gorgeous. Sweat drips from his messy curls at his temple and paints a glimmer down his neck, all pulled taught as his head hangs back. His chest tastes salty under your tongue where it heaves, you can’t get enough of the flavor, or the wicked beating of his heart under your lips.

And his noises, fucking delicious, wrung-out curses that just keep tumbling from his red lips. His stomach trembles with his shaky breaths, and he sounds so wrecked as the last bit of his orgasm tricked down the back of your hand.

His whispered chants of “fuck me, fuck me, fuck me,” slow to a stop just as his joints unlock and his muscles relax. You take it as a sign to loosen your grip on his spent cock and carefully slip your finger back out of him. It earns you one last whimper before he sags into you, a boneless little heap in your lap.

You unhand him to hold him against you, wipe your hand on the discarded blanket beside you so you can stroke his back with one hand and his fuzzy little buttcheek with the other.

You tell him how good he was for you, how pretty he is when he comes, how much you loved getting to do that to him.

It takes a while for him to catch his breath, and his huffs tickle that sensitive spot on your neck just below your ear.

“Holy shit,” he sighs.

You nod, because he’s correct. Holy shit, indeed.

His voice is a little hoarse, and you’re conflicted. You want to hold him as long as he’ll let you, but you know you should get him some water and at least a towel.

You shift under him and he whimpers, wraps his arms tighter around your shoulders.

There goes that idea.

You hold him closer, and smirk at the contented sigh that leaves him.

“I think… I think I just imprinted on you.”

It startles a laugh out of you, and he chuckles too, a tiny happy sound against your collar bone. You turn to kiss his heated cheek, and he lets you, before he turns his own head to fuse his lips to yours.

This kiss is lazy, unhurried, and the adrenaline from making him fall apart is slowly making way for more of that sticky-sweet arousal from earlier.

“I wanna make you come,” he mumbles against your lips.

You shake your head, but kiss him some more, as to not give him the wrong idea.

“Another night, Pretty Boy.”

He makes a disappointed sound, but continues to kiss you until you have to part for air. His brow is turned upward in question when you pull away.

“Did I do something wrong?”

You’re shaking your head before he even finishes his question.

“Not a single thing, Frankie. Just wanted to take care of you tonight.”

His shoulders relax at that, but his face is still confused. It’s a cute look on him, with his pouty lips and big brown eyes.

“You’d tell me right? If I made you uncomfortable? You can tell me. I don’t wanna upset you.”

And christ, you feel your heart melting and oozing through your rib cage at how earnest his voice is.

“I promise, I’ll tell you.”

That seems to quell his nerves, as he sinks back into you again with his sweaty curls pressed against your shoulder.

You’re sticky in more ways than one, and Frankie’s only getting heavier in your lap the sleepier he gets, but a giggle bubbles up out of you when you realize you’ve never been more comfortable than you are right now.

Frankie huffs in response, and you press him even tighter against you.

You don’t know where one-and-a-half dates and one sickeningly hot orgasm places the two of you. And maybe it’s greedy to think about with a handsome, sweet man in your arms, but you can’t push down the overwhelming feeling of wanting more.

next part

#x reader #sub! frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #nb reader #gender-fluid reader #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #frankie morales #frankie morales fanfiction #ppcu fanfiction #pedro pascal cinematic universe #frankie morales smut #triple frontier fanfiction

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lowkeyrobin · 2 months

Note

mcyts with a music artist partner? more specifically a singer/drummer but whatever works best would be neat !!

ooooo I like all these musically inclined readers I'm getting [does the evil villain finger laugh] ; I tried to do 50/50 with both singer and drummer so djsnnsnss ; rlly couldn't think of any new ideas for more people so I'm sorry LMAO

MCYT ; singer/drummer reader

includes ; tommyinnit, tubbo, ranboo, badlinu, nihachu & quackity

warnings ; language

masterlist

TOMMYINNIT

constantly brags about you being in a band, even though you're the drummer and most drummers are very overlooked

he's your biggest fan, no one will be able to top him

he'll post clips and basically make a scenepack of you doing your thing during gigs to influence people editing you and give you some attention

your band already has a couple thousand fans on top of the monthly listeners and followers, and people were already starting to edit with your music/your performances

he'll constantly post pictures of you behind your drum setup, he thinks its so badass

you guys have that moment where he basically sits on your lap (/ns) and you hold his wrists to show him certain chords and shit

"what's the stuff around your fingers for?"

"prevents strain in my hands and protects jammed knuckles"

"ohhhhhh. keep doing that. it's healthy and badass"

TUBBO

you're the voice he needs to go with his amazing dj bangers or his piano drabbles

if you sing along to a song he'll instantly notice and only tune into you and not the song

constantly promoting you, always playing your music on stream and sending out tweets when you drop a new song

he helps you with new songs and helps with ideas for them

loves taking videos of you at gigs like he's at a concert

he'll never miss a gig for the life of him, if he has to, he'll watch you through a livestream set up on your phone, trusted by a friend

he'll pop it up on screen and be quiet as possible to let the viewers listen to you

music videos? he's on it

he's in nearly every single music video or at least behind the camera

loves making you mv thumbnails as well to match the whole album aesthetic

he's your number one fan and no one can beat him, he can sing along word for word bar for bar, each and every song

RANBOO

totally infatuated with the fact you're a singer

"look at my famous partner guys, go show them some love please, their music is so good"

they will be at every single gig, recording you like it's a concert

plays your music on stream all the time

listens to your music religiously, whether it be traveling or cleaning the house

loves looking at fanart where you're like singing to him in the crowd and he obviously sticks out like a sore thumb

you guys karaoke your music on stream all the time

if you make heavier music/scream a lot in it, he goes silent for you to do all that LMFAO

will break out the GarageBand to make you beats so you can on site make up lyrics like a rapper BAHAHAH

FREDDIE BADLINU

finds it so cool you can play drums

sometimes he'll sit down with you while you're practicing and play guitar behind you while you can't hear

yk like the drumset charlie spring has? you got one of those now, that way you can play without making a ton of noise, especially while he's sleeping or streaming

loves putting stickers on your cymbals and your bass drum

loves taking pictures of you with finger tape on to just stare at later

constantly brags about you being in a band and always listens to your music

even uses your music in videos and stuff

in the desc he'll put a little "my partners band ____ is playing in the background, go check them out!"

thinks you're so badass for playing drums LMAO

he also tries to play them while you guide his hands

cutie patootie

NIKI NIHACHU

thinks you're so fucking cool

will always record you at gigs

and loves putting finger tape on for you

changes her insta bio to "claimed by a bitch who plays drums 🙏🙏" or something like that

you learn how to cover some of her favorite songs and she's literally so excited

your band make pins or lanyards or any sort of merch? it's all sold out now, she's bought it all

will play your music on stream and shout out the name and leave link to the merch store at any given chance

always reposting fanart she sees of you/you two together

especially if it's you on your drums playing for her

ALEX QUACKITY

you're the voice to his guitar because he's too shy to show off his true singing voice

(the I got a feeling that tonight we are getting 2 subs clip)

obsessed with your voice

also records you at gigs

if he's at the barrier you'll constantly wave to him or wink at him, etc etc

all to make him flustered 💪💪💪

will constantly plug your band and always wears your merch

hypes you up if you're having writers block with lyrics or are having one of those days where you feel like you don't sound good

if you're singing along to a song, he'll tune in only to your voice and not the song at all

simp

#lowkeyrobin #mcyt x reader #mcyt preferences #mcyt oneshot #tommyinnit x reader #quackity x reader #ranboo x reader #badlinu x reader #tubbo x reader #gn reader #freddie badlinu x reader #niki nihachu x reader #nihachu x reader #alex quackity x reader #gender neutral reader #they/them reader

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shellbells-things · 7 months

Text

What. A. DAY. (Or couple of days…) First, everyone was in an uproar about Jungkook’s song. I won’t lie, my eyebrows went up to my hairline when I heard the rap lyrics. They just seemed so…aggressive. And very un-Jungkook like. Fortunately, there is a version without those lyrics! The song is catchy and will most certainly go viral.

But just when we were catching our breath from the song drama, we were suddenly bombarded with videos that supposedly showed Jungkook in his apartment, aggressively back hugging and chasing a pregnant woman. Also, we got a bunch of accusations about him supposedly harassing woman at work, acting inappropriately at a Karaoke bar, and sexually harassing waitresses. I mean talk about piling on!!! Someone is working EXTRA hard to try and basically ruin Jungkook, and oh-so conveniently on the day of his new song release. Hmmmm….does this remind you of anything? Didn’t some assholes break into Jimin’s apartment, steal his mail and hide it so that he got behind on his insurance payments and then waited until his new OST was released to post a story in the press? All designed to distract from his new song and bring the fandom down on his head. Sounds like the same playbook to me.

Regarding the alleged Jungkook video. I see a lot of people saying the video could be Jungkook, and that they will accept it if it is. I see people blindly accepting this crap. And I’m just…floored by that. Everyone is so afraid of looking like the cult that they refuse to question and investigate? That they immediately forget 10 years of Jikook behavior that makes it clear that they are something special to each other? Excuse me?

People. There is NOTHING wrong with scoffing at this. The blurriness of the video is purposeful. Designed to give the impression of Jungkook without actually showing details that could prove it’s him (unlike the Taennie videos from Paris, which were crystal clear). I mean, we’ve got satellites in space that can zoom in on a pimple on your nose and clearly show it. You’re telling me an iPhone camera or a telephoto lense couldn’t do a better job than this mess? There are a lot of inconsistencies in these videos that I won’t get into, but you get my point.

Please don’t be afraid to question. Truth seeking is a good thing!! Go ahead and draw pictures to help you better understand the apartment layout. Take screen grabs and circle things that don’t match. Talk it out with your friends! And no. This doesn’t make you like the cult, it just makes you someone who supports Jungkook and wants to make sure that you are giving him every benefit of the doubt. Once you’ve done your due diligence, then you can make your mind up based on 1) what you already know about Jungkook and 2) what the facts and circumstances you’ve reviewed show. And let’s be real about this. The person who took the video didn’t just luck into being there at the exact right moment. Either they were straight up stalking the people they were filming or more likely, the scene was set for the purpose of filming this “gotcha”moment.

The bottom line is this. Regardless of whether you believe the video is legit or a lie, someone is trying really hard to hurt Jungkook. And none of us should be ok with that.

I know what I DO believe in, and it’s this:

#jimin and jungkook #jikook #minkook #kookmin #asking question is a good thing #don’t be afraid #trust your gut

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pommpuriinn · 4 days

Text

୧ ‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִMUSIC BANK IN ANTWERP

౨ৎ⋆˚｡⋆synopsis ౨ৎ⋆˚｡⋆- some highlights plus special stages from their maknae and oldest of the group

౨ৎ⋆˚｡⋆author’s note ౨ৎ⋆˚｡⋆- trying to put this out while seeing the hybe building in flames with all this news coming out on X ૮ . ̫ . ა๑

outfit | hair/color | makeup | nails

၄၃ the second txt’s name was even mention the whole arena erupted with cheers and lightsticks swinging, and with txt actually being on stage the volume just got louder. Joohyung felt like it was one of their own concert than a music bank, she felt so appreciative with all the support from Belgium moa. While they were on stage answering some questions from the mc of the night, the camera pan towards Joohyung. Who was just standing there listening to the mc and the crowd just went ‘awww~’ amazed at Joohyung’s visuals. For a second Joohyung was confused on why everyone awed, so she looked behind her at the big screens and saw her face. Joohyung whipped back around and instantly felt in embarrassed by the praise and hid a little behind Yeonjun making the crowd giggle at her cuteness

၄၃ since Kai’s special stage was one of the first ones the members hang around in the side lines beaming up at their maknae being a little rockstar up on the stage. Joohyung was so hyped that she was head banging with the moas around her. She was also jumping with Yeonjun and Soobin while singing the lyrics. Kai didn’t have to tell her twice to get on the stage with him since she booked it up those stairs and ran straight to Kai. The group danced and sang with their maknae creating just a perfect picture of best friends living their dream with each other.

၄၃ Joohyung special stage was a last minute thing since the other group pulled out just a week prior to the event. So Joohyung’s staff changed Joohyung from her main event outfit to y2k kind of look to match with the song Joohyung was going perform.

၄၃ Unfortunately this song hasn’t been released yet and Joohyung only performed it once during them headlining lollapalooza. It was the summer song ‘Spicy’ the arena got so loud that Joohyung heard all the screams through her ear-ins. But as Joohyung was performing she didn’t realize that txt came out in the side lines to watch and hype her up. It surprised her that she giggled mid note. Before the end of song she went towards the right side where they were and they all danced together. Joohyung then quickly pulled them up on stage to do the ending pose, they all did a pose similar Joohyung’s making her laugh right into her mic.

၄၃ Joohyung and the boys quickly rush backstage so she can change back to all white outfit, but instead of leg warmers and little heels the stylist changed them to white boots.

၄၃ it was finally time for the main event, so txt all got in position and started with ‘Deja vu’. Joohyung was amazed at how the crowd was singing the song word for word and doing the fan chants. Once it got to the dance break part and Joohyung did the hand over the eyes move she yelled, “Antwerp!” Before singing her line with passion. The members tried holding in their smiles, but their noona was being too cute.

၄၃ ‘Anti-Romantic’ Joohyung was just sending cute gestures towards the camera and everyone screaming for her. Whenever it wasn’t her turn to sing she would wave at moas who were trying to get her attention, and she would send kisses at them. Sometimes she would see some moas tearing up or crying and Joohyung would mouthed ‘don’t cry’.

၄၃ Joohyung instantly smiled once she heard ‘Love Song’ playing in her ear-in. Despite it being an emotional song it always brings her happy memories, and it gives her the energy to perform even harder. While singing the couple lines with Beomgyu and Yeonjun (Say you love me say you love me 세계의 끝까지 all or nothing I give all of you) Joohyung would send hearts their way making the two members smile.

၄၃ during ‘GBGB’ instead of Joohyung’s boba eyes she gave such sharp expressions towards the camera. Moa were going crazy everything Joohyung showed up at the big screens. Also her acting during the song was praised heavily online and by non fans that become fans during the event.

၄၃ it was last song of the night ‘ISYTT’ and playfully Joohyung came back, and even made some members laugh while singing. She was just being extra cute which is rare to the members and moa. Joohyung was just really happy to perform in Europe and finally see moas over here. Again Joohyung was praised for her animated facial expressions

၄၃ some fans moments that gain lots of attention. Videos of Joohyung from the side stage where txt was at because of how beautiful she looks, and many moas saying that videos and pictures don’t do her justice. Joohyung would always right up to their phone cameras and kiss it causing the fan to panic.

၄၃ moas also capture Joohyung trying to kiss her members’ cheeks. She wouldn’t actually kiss their cheeks since she was just playing with them and teasing moa.

၄၃ fans saw first hand how idols want to say hi to Joohyung, but they are imitated by her and her members since the boys are always circling around her just protecting her as they were saying bye to all the fans. Which brings up the question of did something happened that they don’t know about that has made the boys more protective of Joohyung?

#txt 6th member #txt additional member #kpop added member #kpop additional member #kpop female addition #txt female member #txt female addition #kpop female oc

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lavenderhhaze · 1 year

Text

解体愛好家 - DEMOLITION LOVERS

pairing: Hyunjin x fem!reader

genre: angst, 00's alt rock band!au

words: 4.3k

warnings: recreational drugs, profanities, toxic relationships, manipulative behaviour, underage smoking and alcohol consumption, alcohol poisoning, attempted suicide, mentions of self harm, mentions of guns and violence, allusions to sex, blood, both hyunjin and y/n are toxic mfs

A/N: inspired by robbers by the 1975. hyunjin is literally matty healy. SO many MCR and 1975 references sprinkled in there. took a long time to escape my drafts but hey. really dark topics, do read the warnings, please.

For Hyunjin, you began with a feeling of inevitability. Since his eyes had crossed yours, that one fateful encounter opposite the big screen re-run of The Street Fighter, he knew you. You were meant to know him a little bit better than everyone else; to know him as more than just the lead-guitarist of the latest face of the alt-rock scene. Two lives meant to converge.

And so you were; lovers meant to find each other time and time again, despite the world coming in between. Repeated patterns of lost and found. His heart yours to break and yours would be his — robbers of each other's happiness.

Twin flames? If he believed in that sort of thing.

You came to him — a face he had never seen and a voice he had never heard; an unexpected surprise and a defining moment.

"Mind filling me up on what I missed?"

"In that movie, he didn't give a shit about anything. Exept live fast, die young and leaving behind a good looking corpse."

"Like you?"

"Like me."

It was strange, how one girl and an empty theatre was no less than a collision of stars, slamming into him so hard that it sent his relatively neat looking world descending into this sort of madness.

Hwang Hyunjin's neat looking world is tiny, crowded and anomalous — just how he likes it. From the very beginning, it has always been Minho, Jisung and Felix. Despite the ups and downs, all the broken glass and the screaming matches, he is their's and they are his.

Hyunjin's neat looking world is art and music. It is his white Epiphone Les Paul guitar, Mahogany body and Rosewood fretboard, he would announce proudly. It is the scribbled lyrics in his notebook which would make it to the second verse of their next single. His love for music is a stroke, a heart attack — both sudden and complete.

"Hwang, what is this mystery girl bullshit I'm seeing?"

“As the dust settles on disbandment rumours and drug scandals, The Muse guitarist and frontman: Hwang Hyunjin spotted with mystery girl in AMC, Jersey.”

Felix laughs, head tipped back with his dimples at full display, his chair only balancing on its last two legs, "Apparently Hyunjin is a hopeless fucking romantic now."

It had been everywhere. Perhaps, maybe, the ever stone-faced lead guitarist has an ounce of romanticism in his body? A little bit more than his facade—he air of confidence and cigarette smoke that surrounds him, that moves with him, that often times was him?

Perhaps he is one of gentle touches and tactile love — one to find music in laughter, to make music of laughter. One to find his lover's face in the sunset, love songs blasting loud on the stereo while he sings along—

"Bullshit."

Minho only watches — Hyunjin now a subject to his curiosity, with an eyebrow raised. He knows him through and through, his washed up past, all the cliché rock star origins and the stacked up liquor bottles. And of course, he knows when Hyunjin is lying.

"It's a good look, though," Felix reasons, his crossed legs now tipped up on the table, his smile grows smug by the second. "You seem less. . .untouchable. The movie dates and holding hands type, you know? The boyfriend kind of guy."

Jisung chips in," And with that face of yours, it means more fans you bring in. As long as the Manager doesn't fucking mind, of course."

Minho hasn't said a word yet. He doesn't have to. The all dark singer is the picture of a menace. Inky hair and inky eyes, earings glinting as they catch the light, he doesn't even need to try. And he keeps it up, day through night; because this intimidation is the only thing holding the group together.

For Minho, it has always been simple. Words come to him and he writes them. Taste of Blood, Contagious, Sonder. It has been hit after hit for the singer-songwriter. He doesn't abridge; his words are raw. And that? The reason he could fetch the limelight.

And after that, it had been easy. Signing to Black Records, so much paperwork, managers and P.R., and marketting and recruiting. He had his three boys and his past well swept under the rug. So terrifyingly easy.

His past doesn't exist anymore. Unless he wants it to. Years of abuse swept under the fucking rug, because he needs to be indifferent. He is indifferent. Being raised by a single mother coming home drunk every morning didn't matter because he can do what he loves. Raising Felix himself, sheltering him from the fucking hell he lived through doesn't matter because they both can do what they love.

Because now, he doesn't have to deal with pain that's grotesque and raw. No more bleeding himself dry just to feel something, winters spent in a thin knit sweater, tired and hungry out of his fucking mind. Now, his pain was the kind to be dealt with quietly. Polished smile against the polite corruption in this white collared industry. Because he learnt to get up and leave.

And that's what he keeps doing: leaving, leaving and leaving.

Minho is what he wants to be — arrogance personified. And his past doesn't slip through the cracks; not to a single interviewer no matter how hard they try to dig. Because he's perfectly good at leaving. Hyunjin can't, he could never.

Indifferent, arrogant and a charmer — that's who Minho is for anyone who cares to know. And a mystery for anyone who tried to find out.

And finally he speaks: Hyun, I don't want you to fuck it all up.

The next fifteen months follow, fifteen months where they are expected to churn out another album, with a long line of managers and promoters and agencies with their hands around their necks. Fifteen whole months where Hyunjin's life has been you, you and you.

It had started that one February evening, the end of the European tour, all four had been brought back to Newark. Italy and Paris seemed like a distant dream; mornings and evenings and nights — all bleeding into each other. Days spent at the studio — the boys, their cigarettes and their booze.

Cigarette in hand, Hyunjin only hopes to smoke himself to death.

"Your coping mechanisms don't seem real healthy, Hyun."

A deep breath, Hyunjin hopes he won't say things he'll come to regret, he prays.

"I don't think yours are that healthy either, darling," he glances pointedly at his Felix's arms, now covered up in that silk button up he bought him for his birthday. His words are sharp, tied up neatly with a nickname despite having the same effect.

That's who Hyunjin is — he bites back.

The pair stands in solidarity outside the entry sign of a club, awaiting the eldest. Minho had wandered off with a girl — his girl; doing god knows what.

Unlike Hyunjin, Minho was free to love — or fuck, he really didn't know what went on between the two of them. All he knew was that Minho counted days to meet this girl. Despite the half hearted one-nighters he had pulled all around Europe — the blonde in Paris, the freckled-brunette after their show in Oslo and that obnoxiously loud red head in Vienna — he found his way back to her. They held this strange fucking gravity for each other.

Felix is quiet, no longer fazed by Hyunjin's harsh words. Although his arms are crossed, fingers digging into the exact spots the elder had pointed out seconds ago and Hyunjin already regrets everything he has said.

But he won't apologize. He hasn't, ever.

The streets, earlier thick with cars and people have now thinned out, slowly sinking into the calm of the late evening. The wait for Minho has been getting maddening, the seconds between him and his drugs, girls and booze far too long to handle.

"Fuck it, Felix. He can get in by himself."

He shoves past, a sideward glance of acknowledgement at Felix, asking him to come along.

"Take care, Hyun," Felix whispers, grabbing at his collar and his voice low. "I will fucking cry if I find you lying half dead on the sidewalk again."

Again, he's quickly dismissed. Hand on heart, with a promise from Hyunjin. But he's never one to keep promises. He never did.

He's been at it for hours; Felix and Minho lost in the drunken haze and the red lights diffused by paper lanterns at the bar. He throws back shots as if it's water, enjoying the numbness that he subsides in.

And then, he sees you — a vision in red, drawn in back, you fit right in. Hyunjin's world is in pieces : your eyes, your hair, his hand on your shoulder, slowly engulfing you so close that he can hear your heartbeat. His world is shattered and he couldn't be happier.

"Hyunjin?"

He's far too mesmerized to answer. You — in flesh, in front of him. Your eyes the colour of midnight and your skin the shade of sunset, you — his very own north star.

"It's me."

"I read about you in the newspaper last week. Is it true? Are you okay? This hiatus, the hospital photographs— shit, are you fucking okay, Hyunjin?"

That article. That week. When he had drunken himself to near-death, the feeling of death's fingers on his neck still so fresh. And Felix had found him, lying on the side walk; breathless, hopeless and lifeless. It haunted him.

And the paparazzi had followed him all the way, eager to catch glimpses of Minho and Jisung carrying him to the hospital. They had cashed in on everything — Hyunjin's lifeless body, a crying Felix on the verge of a panic attack, Jisung's shaking hands and Minho — still stoic and impassive.

"Ask me again, darling. One by one."

After his third shot, he had kissed you. Hands in your hair and your shoulders and your waist, your skin so warm under his fingertips. The first time he had kissed you — under the red lights of the bar, liquor on his tongue and glitter in your hair. One kiss and he was already hooked.

He would follow you across the fucking world to find you again.

You're the same as him — broken, and he held you so, as if you're glass waiting to shatter. He sees it in your smile, in the way your eyes glimmer under the muted red lights as you withdraw from him.

You're peace to him — a getaway from the three months he spent cooped up in the crammed studio. So he holds you close, deathly afraid of losing whatever he has.

"I wrote you a song."

"You did?"

He did. He fucking did; and for once, he was proud of himself. Midnight's spent hunched over his guitar and that notebook so that he had something tangible of you.

So, at 3:05, back pressed against the cool counter of the bar, you within his reach and drunk off his fucking mind, he sings.

You're cold and I burn, I guess I never learn.

Hours later, he's at the same bar, hands and feet too heavy to move. And you're gone, all that's left of you being the phone number scribbled on his wrist. Dissapearing into thin air like sand slipping from his closed fist. All he remembers is your laugh — ringing through the air like music to his ears and then suddenly — nothing.

He had spent the rest of the night pushing through the crowd, looking for Minho and Felix and then giving into this solitude — breathing in lines of powdered dust from sticky tabletops and alcohol ridden fingertips. He is burning, his fire fuelled only by the endless list of failures.

He almost laughs, remembering his promise to Felix. Like always, he never keeps them.

The hospital again. Felix is absolutely sick of the hospital — the white tiles and the smell of bleach, the awful silence weighing down the air and the undertone of sickness running through and through.

And still, he wouldn't leave.

His eyes are only on Hyunjin — his friend, his brother, his fucking lifeline — lying limp and lifeless under the crisp white sheets, held back by a network of IVs and tubes. Hyunjin is a strange sort of calm, his skin now porcelain white, purple veins branching and scattering under his eyelids and on his neck.

It has been three days. Three whole days since Felix was met with a broken promise. Three whole days since the paramedics arrived and Hyunjin was carried away from him, dissapearing amidst all the shouts and ambulances and the paparazzi. Everything was a haze — the mechanical beeping, the latex gloves against skin and the clicks and flashes of cameras.

Felix was shoved out of the way, his arm held firmly by Minho as he cried. He tried to reach for Hyunjin, his fingers combing into his dark hair only to be slapped away by a nurse.

"Sir, please."

For the first time, he seen a tear slip past Minho's eye, only to be swiped away by the sleeve of his shirt. His brother had cracked. And he was fucking terrified.

Felix hasn't given death much of a thought. The last one was his mother's, and he didn't care much. Dead; death; dying. It was nothing but a fleeting thought — a nightmare he was too young to care about. But suddenly, as the elder lies before him, his chest tightens and his heart sinks.

He can almost see death looming in front of him. And truth be told — he is terrified.

Hyunjin's life has always been a nightmare — absent mother and absent father. Then a gun pointed at his head at fifteen. 0.357 Magnum, execution-style; he had said. Then came the cigarettes, the alcohol and finally the coicaine and heroine. And now finally, it was this mystery girl from the theatre. A drug of choice, I choose my poison.

But Felix always believed he could be the sunshine to Hyunjin's moonlight. It isn't his job to heal all his wounds, he is aware. But it is more of a responsibility. And he had failed. Fucking miserably. Twice.

He exchanges shifts with Jisung, leaving the crammed white room to sit in the hallway. It's a void — white, white, white, with misery and sickness. Felix needs air, he needs his guitar, he needs to be held.

Fucking weak, he chuckles at himself. Making everything about yourself.

"He's back, he's back. He's fucking back, goddammit."

And there he is — eyes the shape of cresents, honey coloured and tired. Almost a smile, he sees. The white of the hospital doens't seem to faze him, like he expected this, as if he's used to this.

"You asshole, Hwang."

A ghost of a smile haunts his lips as he's surrounded again. Nurses checking his pulse and his oxygen in a rush. But Felix feels peace. He's alive.

"You stayed the whole time?"

"I can't fucking leave. Even if i want to."

The second time was in March, when Hyunjin was out of his fucking mind, deprived of any uppers and downers. Even his last dead resort — prescription medication, was heavily monitored. By the managers, by Minho, by the entire fucking world breathing down his neck.

Your phone number was an imprint in his mind, and his fingers with a psyche of their own as he dialled it up. His heart erratic — hoping, praying and pleading.

"I want to see you," his voice breaks. So does he. "Please."

And suddenly, it's you, you, you again. You don't ask about that February night. The newspapers were talking again, pictures and articles and quotations, all about that goddamn scandal. He knows that you know.

Peach and honey in the air, sunlight and your skin. Sometimes Hyunjin wonders if he has ever truly loved. You're lying on his stomach, your hair a wild display his hand runs through.

"Have you ever been to Vegas?" You ask, eyes faraway.

"Nope."

"Did you know that when they're done with all those neon lights, they just dump them in this big graveyard in the desert? Don't you think that's sad? Abandoned. Never lit up again."

"I could light them up."

Hyunjin has never been a romantic. He has never dreamed of promises rolling off your breath — you in your cocaine coloured wedding dress. Summer wind in your hair and wedding photographs tied up neatly in his attic.

And yet he dreams of you that night. An overhead conversation with your name mentioned. A half read book of yours on the coffee table, you were right there — minutes before. He finds himself walking down the street, catching a glimpse of you, only to find out it wasn't you at all. It has always been like that; always reaching for you but never quite touching.

"Do you love her?" Minho had asked that morning.

He's empty. He wonders, do I? Or is she the same chemical happiness the drugs brought him. Ten minutes of numbness that subsides as soon as you're gone.

"Of course, I do."

"Stop fucking lying." Minho's words are venom, his eyes dark. He has never cared so much. "If you did. If you gave a shit about her — about us, about me — you would get up and fucking fix yourself. Get off the fucking drugs, stop drinking. Would you?"

Hyunjin is silent, his face a dark shadow. The words are heavy. And Minho is screaming, his facade off. He can't keep up his arrogant calmness any longer; not when his friend is dying — killing himself the longer they go. He's crying, for the first time in fifteen years, hot tears running down his face. Burning. There is something so delicate about this time, so fragile.

Because he's been there, seen everything through and through. Being held back in rehab because the sight of those little white pills terrified him. He refused to take them, crying and throwing up at the mere thought. Eventually as he was broken down piece by piece, he started downing them unthinkingly — sometimes holding them under his tongue or between his teeth.

And he is reliving his nightmare. Seeing his best fucking friend ruining himself on the floor, his past slipping through the cracks.

He holds on to him by the collar of his shirt, his grip so tight his fingers sting. This time, he can't just get up and leave.

"You wouldn't. So don't you fucking dare tell me you care about us until you've fixed up this goddamn mess."

And he's gone. Leaving. Leaving. Leaving.

Leaving Hyunjin abandoned and weak. He rubs his face, holding himself for once. He's sick to his stomach, he can't stand himself. He was a self fulfilling prophecy — a tragedy writing itself. Broken home, unrequited love, another soul subsiding to chemical happiness, a broken fucking rockstar — such a cliché.

Fix yourself, goddammit. Sometimes he wishes love was enough.

That evening, a mid-March sunset, Felix had found everything in place. Hyunjin's shoes neatly arranged by the entrance, the bedsheets folded and crisp, notebook half open on the bed with overflowing lyrics.

"He'll skin us alive if we're late to the recording again," he had warned, bass slung on his shoulder.

Two knocks on the only locked door — the bathroom, and hope fucking extinguishes.

Panic settles deep in his bones, his maniac heart beating a disgruntled rhythm against his chest. He's screaming, shouting, his words a bleeding mess. Hyunjin, don't you do this to me a third time. Time is still, he's floating.

Hwang fucking Hyunjin, I hate you.

It isn't supposed to go like this. Nothing is supposed to go like this. The industry is stressful, sure; but he was promised money, fame and most of all his fucking friends. It's supposed to be years of their bullshit catastrophic friendship, their patience stretched so thin, it's yet to snap.

Hyunjin — his skin pale, his jaw slack, drenched. A pale arm limp, hanging off — reaching to him; reaching for him. His best friend — a beautiful fucking tragedy.

"What the fuck. You're kidding me, this is a fucking joke."

He's screaming, Minho is screaming. Jisung joins the turmoil. The eldest has the sense to dial up the number. He's still screaming, grabbing at his friend — his cheeks, his neck, his arms; looking for a pulse, for any sort of life.

The paramedics are here, guiding the three through the last ten minutes of panic. Hyunjin chokes and chortles. He's alive. He's fucking alive. Perhaps an awful figment of his imagination, the subtle heaving of his chest: he's breathing. But fuck, the time between each breath too long — excruciatingly long.

"Hurry. Please, fucking hurry."

And yet again, Hyunjin is taken away from him. All Felix can do is stare at him with a look of distant horror. It's all a dream. A bad fucking dream, he convinces himself, hardly aware of the chaos surrounding him.

Hyunjin had said he wanted to kill himself. And Felix? He just let him.

Felix has always been the fragile one, the one who needed to be taken care off, the delicate one. A dandelion inflorescence losing a part of himself to life with every passing year. And Hyunjin is the one who did the caring — Minho, his brother but Hyunjin, his twin flame.

And this being the third straight week he has spent at the same hospital, his best friend lying motionless in white for the third time broke his heart.

And then there is you, Hyunjin's girl, appearing and dissapearing from thin air none the same. You had come to the studio shaking, talking about some letter. A suicide note. So you got the privilege of a suicide not, not his brothers, his own bandmates. And Minho had talked some sense into you — both of your hands held in his, earnest.

He doesn't wake up for two days. Two whole days driving Felix fucking insane.

He still spends the hours on his bedside, with you. It is driving him insane. The constant beeping of the machines, the drip of the IV, the day melting into night and the night into day.

And the first time he sees movement, your hands are already sliding across Hyunjin's cheeks, holding him through blurry vision and the tears on your face. "I'm so sorry. I'm so fucking sorry, Hyun."

Felix is next: "Why didn't you tell me, Hwang? Fuck you for doing this to me thrice."

Liar.

Hyunjin seems to panic, his cresent eyes now wild and scared : he's lost, despite being with the two he cherishes the most. And as another crowd of nurses takes over him, Felix sees the articles writing themselves, adding him to the list of fallen stars in the likes of Kurt Cobain, Jimi Hendrix and Janis Joplin.

After fifteen minutes of checking his vitals, the nurse speaks again, a pointed glance at Felix although his words are directed at Hyunjin, "Press the button if you need anything, if anything happens."

And she leaves, the door closing as the pale white uniform dissapears from sight, leaving the three alone.

Three people. Three stories.

The silence is heavy and fragile — and you the first to break it.

"Hyunjin."

"I know. I told you, it's a mess — I am a mess. I can't do this.”

Felix just stands, uncomfortable. A thousand words on the tip of his tongue but with the intensity of the way Hyunjin looks at you, he feels like he's interrupting. He's different. You're different. And Felix is a thousand times more careful.

"No, Hyun," you continue, your voice terrible, broken. "You tried to kill yourself."

"Do you hate me?"

You ponder, looking at him over and over, studying him, looking through him. "Yes. You broke my fucking heart, Hyun."

Hyunjin burries his face in his hands, as if she told him what he already knew. His heart in his own hands — broken like a promise. He's an insolent child, reprimanded by his mother.

"I didn't mean to."

"You didn't?" you breathe, voice dry, tone incredulous. "It doesn't matter! You still did it. You love me, Hyun? And you still drowned yourself in that fucking bathtub. You broke my —" a sideward glance at Felix, "you broke our hearts. It doesn't matter, you didn't mean to."

Hyunjin flinches, recoiling within himself. He falters, swallowing his words.

Next is Felix, leaning over to catch one of his wrists in his hands. He feels the pulse against his thumbs, rhythmic and assuring — alive, alive, alive. He stands sniffling, tears dripping down his chin, but only frowns, not gathering his best friend up in his arms and smoothening his hair.

"Feli—"

"No you don't." He interrupts, unable to hide the bite in his voice. "You put me through hell, you know that? If you died, you know what would be left of me?"

Hyunjin is silent again, only his hand outstretched asking him to take it. And with him in his arms, Felix is a child again — used to being taken care of. He's heaving, all his sobs hidden in the mess of the elder's hair.

"This doesn't change anything. I'm still mad at you. You're a goddamn mess."

Hyunjin laughs, his voice so full despite the sound being muffled, "I fucking hate you, Lix."

Minutes pass, minutes of nothing but them holding each other. And you watch, content and complete, the reassurance a constant chant in your mind: alive, alive, alive. Felix won't look at him; not yet. He can't. But he'd take a bullet for him, and he'd never say it out loud.

"Hyunjin. Rehab. Do it for us."

And for once, Hyunjin doesn't care. Beyond the tightlit hospital chamber, beyond Felix, Jisung, Minho and you; perhaps the world thinks of him as aimless and a little bit mad. But for now? Hyunjin doesn't fucking care.

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the-new-anime-girl · 1 year

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Buddy Daddies OP analysis

We begin with a city skyline shot as the sun goes down and the city lights turn on. The next shot puts us in the middle of the city;

Rei and Kazuki walk into screen, Rei cold and unflinching while Kazuki looks around quizzically. This could be symbolic of entering the world of hitmen; Rei was born and raised here, while Kazuki was an outsider. This is also why Rei is the one leading the charge, and he is also wearing his mission-suit; a recurring theme in the OP.

Next we see Miri running in the opposite direction of where her papas are walking, she is on collision course with them. Just like in ep 1 she is the one who pusher her way into their lives. Behind her we see a Ferris wheel, the same one I think appears at the end of the OP.

This is also matched to the lyrics “Is it insincere to want to be loved -what should I do”, so the answer to the question is the creation of the family!

The we get her running away from them, just like in the multiple plays of tag she has. I love the title integration here!

Running after (presumably Kazuki) we have Dorothy and Carol (the women from the casino), and following them two people shooting. Is this foreshadowing that the two women will play bigger roles? I don’t think so, but it could be symbolic of what Kazuki and Rei are running from in chasing a family-life with Miri. Rei from the world of hitmen which won’t let him go, and Kazuki from his own demons and bad coping-strategies (gambling).

After that we see some domestic scenes; Kazuki cooking, Rei dazedly waking up in the bath (in his normal hoodie) and Miri on a swing, just like when the family visited the playground. Here I just want to point out the amazing credit integration, I appreciate the extra effort!

Then we have some more credit-integration and cool literal framing with Kazuki and Rei literally carrying a frame along the river as the characters from daycare run behind and through it. If I read into it I’ll say Kazuki and Rei together create the framing in Miri’s life she lacked before, creating opportunities for her to have a normal life with friends and participation in normal society.

Some more domestic scenes of them eating together follows, then some scattered pictures of Rei gaming and Kazuki working on his PC wile earing -how typical of them! Then a picture of Miri sleeping on the couch matched with the lyrics “And then you appeared suddenly..:”

Then the domestical scenes are overtaken by the hitmen-cases thrown over Miri’s picture intruding on their life.

Right after we see who I think is Rei riding his motorcycle. Then my favorite cuts in the OP as a car window rolls down and we see Ogino

With the way Rei is ‘trapped’ and reflected in the window as it rolls down to reveal Ogino it shows who Rei could have become, what his boss wants him to become, someone who likes killing and does it without an afterthought. Someone Rei almost became when he was “like a robot” only moving forward, except Rei never liked killing, he just tried not to think while following orders. There is also a contrast as Rei is inside a bright cityscape, while Ogino is sitting in a dark car.

Ogino turns to look at the viewer, and we get a cut of Miri’s mum, Misaki, singing.

Then we see Kyutaro in the ‘restaurant’ working, before looking up to face Rei’s shitty father. This cut is matched with the lyrics “You shattered my heart” (this is not just the subtitles, the Japanese singing also matched the lyrics to this shot), and since Misaki is shown right before that, she might be part of the meaning too.

So who is breaking who’s heart? Is it about Rei’s father breaking his, Misaki breaking Miri’s and Kyutaro (eventually) breaking Kazuki (since Kazuki seems to be close to him with the nicknames and all that), or is it referring to how the boss will try to split up the family and break all their hearts, or to how shattered they will be if Kyutaro betrays their trust?

The boss is framed with a bloody red sky as it rains, his goons and their cars surrounding him. He strikes an intimidating pose: we can’t see their faces clearly, which adds to the unease and shows his insidious intentions, but it also fits the organization; just like Shigeki (the boss) said, they work in the deepest shadows.

I think these cuts are about the pressure put on Kyutaro to collect information for the boss, and since Kyutaro at first seems reluctant to look up, I suspect its specifically about collecting information about Kazuki and Miri. The boss doesn’t want any ‘bad influence’ on his son, and Kyutaro as of ep. 9 hasn’t been very quick to deliver (it’s been almost 2 months since Rei’s birthday and the initial request by that point).

The shot is replaced with a city-central shot which Kazuki overtakes with his reckless driving as his car screeches into the scene. We’ve seen him driving like this multiple times throughout the anime, always to ‘rescue’ or otherwise reach Miri. This shot is very stylish, but also works to show the desperation Kazuki would feel to keep Miri from harm both in the situations we’ve seen so far and possibly in the future.

The car brings with it the next rolling shot of Rei stoically shooting. He is back in his suit, and I read this as also representing Shigeki’s goal; an emotionless killing machine.

Throughout the whole next part Miri is acting like any hyper 4 year old, running through the different squares while Kazuki searches for her.

Meanwhile Rei is resolutely walking forwards in the bottom row staying on his path, while Kazuki switches to the top row.

It’s been some time in the OP since the domestic scenes; the further away Rei is from a normal life, the more he is a tool who only follows commands and doesn’t stray from his path. While Kazuki and Miri are free to dress colorfully however they like, Rei is wearing the same suit he wears on missions. (Side note: When Miri enrolled in kindergarten Kazuki picked out a new suit for Rei despite the old one working just fine, because the old one symbolizes conformity to his father’s expectations).

In the other squares wee see named characters like Miri’s friends running, but also this man:

Who tf is that? Will he be important, or is this just filler? If anyone knows who this is, please share!

Continuing the search Kazuki is still running on the streets, and he looks distressed. This is probably an homage to when Miri got lost and they both went looking for her -Kazuki much more frantically.

But when the family is together again its turned into a fun game of tag where Kazuki is genuinely smiling (while Rei looks his normal self).

They catch up to her and walk along the same river they carried the frame in. this is the first time Miri is in physical contact with either of her papas in the OP; Kazuki pics her up and she wraps herself around him -precious!!! Rei hunches over and walks a little behind then, but he seems to be the one to start a conversation and suggesting or asking something (“Dinner for three?”)

Then we see a stuffed teddy bear and a cake being destroyed by a bullet (among other stuff the family owns like the bicycle with the child-seat); the epitome of the threat the organization poses. Destroying their domestic bliss with violence.

Its fitting then that the next shot is a somber and devastated Kazuki in the rain; he can’t even meet the camera’s eyes. This being placed right after the family’s stuff being destroyed could show Kazuki’s fear of losing his family again.

As we enter into his core through his back, we see what’s behind the happy façade; the deep sadness of losing his fiancé and child. Kazuki stands in the same rainy weather he both met and lost Yuzuko in. In the image Yuzuko is facing away from him, holding the umbrella she had when first meeting him, and when dying, framed by the flowers from the garden she loved where they first met. The shot is beautiful, with the flowers almost blooming around her. The image expands, like how a raindrop’s moisture expands on paper. The rain, the tears and sadness is inside Kazuki’s heart as well.

The reason Kazuki is so emotional about the family and invested in taking care of Miri is because that’s what he would have had with Yuzuko, but never got. Miri is like his unborn child, and that’s why he so quickly became so attached to her, as she can kind of ‘fill the hole in his heart’. And Miri is exactly what fills the next three shorts as she looks around. The last one with her looking up, and the following shot of Kazuki and Rei looking down and meeting her gaze.

Wrapped around her finger indeed.

Then multiple scenes fly across the screen; the dichotomy of their hitman jobs with goons shooting and the domestic life they’re leading with chores and Miri playing. It ends with a goon falling down and losing his machine gun.

In quick succession we see Rei zipping up his hitman bodysuit, Kazuki looking distressed, a zoom up of Misaki’s crying eye and then this shot of Miri grabbing onto Rei’s fingers.

Multiple people have pointed out that this is the same as in ep. 9 when Miri grabs Rei to join in the daycare-contest. Amid the sudden despair it’s a very tender moment as Rei, but this also symbolically applies to Kazuki, is pulled back to their apartment home.

The shot of the apartment goes from dark night to daytime, mirroring the beginning of the OP when the city went from day to night.

Then the dark night is over, and the sun shines on the family as Rei and Kazuki look at a Ferris wheel while Miri faces the viewer. Her stance is confident, and almost triumphant. We can’t see Rei or Kazuki’s reactions, but Miri who is looking away, as always obvious to the danger around her, is smiling. It makes sense she would be optimistic about the outcome (and gosh, do I want to believe like her).

Considering this is the second time the Ferris wheel appears in the OP, we might see the story’s climax here (I’m calling it!)

The last shot is of a common breakfast in their household; French toast. And Kazuki just couldn’t stop himself from adding some fruit to make it more balanced.

If the end of the OP is to be believed, everything will work out alright for the family (Or maybe that’s just my wishful thinking).

(Thank you for reading, I ended up with around 1800 words, apparently I had more to say about this than I thought. We’ll see of some of my predictions come true. I bet there are some grammatical mistakes here (and squished pictures courtesy of Tumblr) but I’m too tired rn to check…)

#buddy daddies #bd #kurusu kazuki #Suwa rei #Unasaka miri #rei suwa #kazuki kurusu #miri unasaka #buddy daddies spoilers #buddy daddies rei #buddy daddies kazuki #buddy daddies miri #kyutaro kugi #suwa shigeki #Is it too obvious Rei is my fave?#Long post #I'll add a cut if I remember to but I'm rrl tired rn

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tomorrowxtogether · 1 year

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Tomorrow X Together live in New York: magic and mayhem at boyband’s first US arena tour

As they enter the concert big leagues, TXT bring an ambitious show to the stage, but take a moment to warm up to the challenge ahead

Usually at K-pop concerts, the goofy chaos doesn’t kick in until the final section of the show, but at Tomorrow X Together‘s second night in New York as part of their ‘Act: Sweet Mirage’ US tour, it begins early. After their opening run concludes with a boisterous ‘Cat And Dog’, the five-piece take a break to whip up disarray. First, they encourage the audience to repeat the barking refrain from their last song, before the members share their own attempts at woofing. Canine impersonations over, TXT move on to playing around with lightsticks, each member taking turns to conduct a section of the crowd through silly moves.

All this is very cute and fun but, in terms of the bigger picture of the performance, it’s also stilling. It quickly disrupts any momentum that was being built and highlights the feeling from the preceding tracks that the group are still warming up, five songs in. That they don’t come bursting out of the gates instantly is perhaps understandable – this is only the third show of the US leg of the tour, which marks TXT are first time playing arenas in the country, graduating from their theatre-sized tour last summer.

If it takes a hot minute for the boyband to get fully revved up, the production is on point from the get-go, suiting the grand size of the venue and then some. At the end of early highlight ‘9 And Three Quarters (Run Away)’, Hueningkai delivers a solo dance break where he becomes a princely wizard, sparkles swirling around him on the screen as he elegantly twirls and spins. Seconds later, metallic confetti begins to fall from the ceiling and, as it catches the light, it looks like gold dust fluttering down around him.

Earlier, a shortened version of ‘Drama’ sees the group passing a brightly coloured basketball around the stage before launching it towards a CGI hoop on the back screen, while ‘Anti-Romantic’ is accompanied by visuals recalling Beauty And The Beast, with a red rose wilting under a domed glass jar. It’s the shape-shifting ‘Eternally’, though, that stuns the most, its gentle, melancholy verses visually scored by smooth white and blue light. When the song glitches into its darker moments, though, flames shoot towards the sky, everything turns red and lasers judder frenetically across the crowd. They’re effects that heighten the excitement of the music, making the lurching changes feel larger than life.

Once TXT hit their stride, their performance feels right at home too. ‘Can’t You See Me?’ is ferocious, the group blazing through the track before a part of the screen behind them lifts to reveal a glowing red light, as if calling them into their own personal inferno to match the raging emotions in the lyrics. The dubby Afrobeats of ‘Tinnitus (Wanna Be A Rock)’ finds them leaning into a more mature groove, with choreography (and scream-inducing abs flashing) to match.

There are moments of pure artistic beauty, too. ‘Opening Sequence’ begins with the group splitting into pairs (Hueningkai and Taehyun, Beomgyu and Soobin) plus a solo Yeonjun to deliver sophisticated dances set to classical refrains. The moves are poised and perfect, upping the drama in the room before launching into the anguished song while, just before the pain reaches its peak in the outro, four of the members fall to the floor, their bodies in a circle around Taehyun as he embarks on his own brief solo steps, surrounded by pillars of white light. It’s one of the pinnacles of the set, its dynamic, unpredictable choreography bringing a rush of goosebumps.

Afterwards, Hueningkai asks Yeonjun if he was lonely dancing by himself, to which the rapper replies that he’s never alone with MOA. That might be the kind of response you expect to that question, but there’s truth within the fan service. Throughout TXT’s concert, there’s a feeling of unity bonding the 19,000 fans – and the boyband – whether they’re barking as one, learning choreography under the guidance of the members, or screaming each lyric in harmony.

Nowhere is the latter more potent than during ‘LO$ER=LO♡ER’, where the whole venue yells “I’m a loser / I’m a loser” with emphatic joy, like a communal epiphany of self-acceptance and a celebratory reclamation of that uncool status. Togetherness is a sentiment that runs through the penultimate track of the night as well. ‘Blue Spring’ is a brand new song that TXT are debuting on this tour and it pays tribute to their relationship with their fans. “When we’re high, when we’re low, you’re always by my side / All my youth is filled up with your warmth,” they sing to the crowd in the sweet ballad.

“At last year’s concert in New York, I told you that I’m growing every day because of MOA,” Hueningkai recalls during the band’s final comments as the concert begins to wrap up. That continued growth is obvious tonight, not just for TXT’s maknae – whose all-round skills are brighter and tighter than ever – but the band as a whole, who have come on leaps and bounds since they were last in the US. Beomgyu’s cheeky, chaotic energy drives the between-song (and sometimes during) giddiness, Yeonjun has stepped fully into the confident, charmingly cocky showman role, and Soobin and Taehyun’s vocals have somehow become even more divine than before.

After the audience get a few more rounds of barking in for good measure, TXT bring the night to a close with ‘Our Summer’, a sun-kissed goodbye that bottles the sweet feelings shared between band and fans tonight one last time, and promises equally heartfelt reunions in the future. “No matter where you are, no matter what season,” the group sing happily. “If we’re together, feel like summer.”

#txt #tomorrow x together #230512 #article #NME #soobin #yeonjun #beomgyu #taehyun #hueningkai

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definegodliness · 2 years

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I'm back! Here, an impression:

Home away from home. Tiny but cozy!

After we had settled we watched a football match and went to sleep. The next day we went to museum Mémorial de Verdun. I never take pictures in museums. It always takes a minute or ten to get in to the 'pace' of a museum, wherein you can give all the information a place. Or so you can process it. And with pictures you won't get the chance. The story or Verdun was layed out and explained perfectly there. And the artefacts interesting. But personal belongings like photographs of sweethearts and family, or letters, always get me. The horrors of Verdun (1000 deaths per day, for 300 days) were made most tangible on a multi-layered screen, mimicking trenches. Those boys and men throughout the seasons have seen every rendition of hell imaginable. What a tragedy.

At a mobile kitchen there was a story about what happened behind the frontline. They played an old French love song, I guess a harlot song(?), which got stuck in my head and will now haunt me forever. I'll never hear it again. It was so enchanting. The lyrics went something like "tu es le monde", but I can't find it. Alas, alas.

Anyway, then we were off to Fort Douaumont, which we learned, in the museum, played a key part in the battle of Verdun:

Here the war became more real. Where the museum had given us information about the battle; timelines, tactics, various important characters - the story of Fort Douaumont was more of the soldiers. For instance: in the museum I learned the Germans took this key position in 4 days. At the location I learned life was hell in there. The first floor got shelled and life was in its dark, narrow, wet, horrid abysses. It's strange to think the Fort got captured by just 24 men. And that a French engineer had the order to blow the whole thing up, but didn't. Those two actions butterfly effect'ed into 300 days of slaughter. Also shows that in war there are no heroic stories. Only tragic ones. An important reminder.

What was nice, as a counterweight to all its darkness, was that the place now is overtaken by swallows:

This was the first casemate we went in. You can see a couple of nests next to the windows. A swallow immediately flew overhead, adding to the surreal experience. We went there without knowing what to expect, and my dad's claustrophobic so we would've never gone if he knew it would be like this! But he could keep the phobia at bay. Which I find a really cool personal victory. The audio tour gave the right distraction. It was cold and wet in there. Stalagtites were shaping up. And all sorts of fungi and mucous like material stuck to the walls and ceilings. Truly an astonishing place to be.

After this we visited an ossuary and a graveyard. Places of true silence. I lit a candle in the ossuary there. There were lots of little moments of contemplation. Which is why I forgot to take photos.

On a happier note, after that we barbequed! Here's me dodging the hot juices (man, French produce is the best):

So tasty!

We went to a town called Romagne after that, to a museum called Romagne 14-18. A rather unique museum / private collection of a man who has collected over 300,000 artifacts over the course of 40 years. And all in an area of 5 square kilometers, and all without a metal detector. He told us the reason he stopped using a metal detector was because he used to find graves. Humans would lay there, with their photos, and letters, with their dogtags... but when he notified authorities they would just fill the hole again, as the humans laying there were Germans. The owner of the museum was a very cynical man when it comes to the war, and it was evident he had made it his mission to share the whole story, and not just the victor's version. His museum mainly consisted of personal belongings, and busted up material (not the shiny never-seen-action mint condition material you find in regular museums). To me, it is an incredibly important place. It makes people who think in terms of 'good and evil' uncomfortable, which I think is the best a museum can do.

Also interesting, when entering the town Romagne, you first go through an American memorial / cemetery. As I have a lot of American friends here (and also because I forgot at the ossuary), I took some pictures:

The water in the fountain was purple

After these trips, we just enjoyed the country. Verdun is absolutely stunning. Flowing hills (mountains to a Dutchman, but I suppose they are hills), covered with forest, spliced by the river Meuse. It's so green there! And I, as a nature boy, thoroughly enjoyed it all. It's bizarre to have seen this area consisting of nothing but mud and craters. Not a tree was left standing. And, to illustrate the situation, one hill got bombarded so heavily it lost 7 meters. Now there were trees again, and the whole area looked like a painting. It is one of the gentlest places I have been. As with the swallows at Fort Douaumont, life takes over.

Of course I forgot to take photos.

#life of mark

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bailees-blog-home · 1 year

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Dolly Parton And The Story Between These Stars And Wigs

Wigs have become increasingly relevant to our lives, and celebrities are no exception. Today let's take a look at the story of these stars and wigs!

Dolly Parton without wig

We all know Dolly Parton, we absolutely love her and adore her. Her signature country glamour style is recognized worldwide, her distinctive million dollar smile has earned her millions of fans, and she has achieved incredible success. Not only has she won a Grammy, but she has received many more prestigious accolades.

She is not only a singer but also an actress, appearing in movies such as "9 to 5", "The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas" and "Steel Magnolias". She proved her status time and time again. But Dolly is truly famous not only for her legendary talent or bosom, but also thanks to her trademark tousled wig.

In her book "The Songwriter: My Life in Lyrics," Dolly fondly shares how, as a teenager, she always dreamed of being able to afford and wear a wig at some point in her life. Growing up and coming out, she always wore her hair beautifully and wore a wig as she wished.

Not only because she always loved wigs, but also because her own hair was fine and flat and never really went the way she wanted it to. "My hair never does exactly what I want it to do," she says. She says , "So the wig became my trademark." Thus, the wig became her trademark. Over the years, her look changed constantly - in the '60s she wore tousled hair, then in the '70s she moved to styles with feathers and teasing, and then many times from high buns to longer styles. The icon absolutely loved her wigs, and even today, she never really gives up her big, sexy blonde wigs. She always says that her wigs are flattering and that wearing them suits her best. Through it all, she has truly epic hair.

It's safe to say that Dolly Parton has hundreds of custom wigs. But on the red carpet of a Netflix series called "The Heartstrings of Dolly Parton," the country singer confirmed that she actually owns hundreds of wigs. She noted that she wears one every day, so she must have at least 365. But when she runs out of wigs, she either sells them at auction to buy new ones or donates them to her museum in Tennessee.

Reveal：Dolly Parton without a wig

It's hard to imagine Dolly without her signature hairstyle, but she does offer some vintage photos of her without it, and she looks gorgeous.

In 2018, she posted a vintage peek-a-boo photo of her in the studio on her Instagram In 2020, she shared the same snapshot again from a different angle, which caused quite a bit of confusion as fans flocked to her page to comment on how great her natural hair looked. Wig or no wig, Dolly Parton always looks the same.

Why did Brett Somers wear a wig？

Born Audrey Johnston on July 11, 1924, Bret Summers is a Canadian-American actress, singer and game show panelist. She is best known for appearing as one of three regular panelists on CBS's Match Game and for her recurring role as Blanche Madison on the ABC sitcom The Odd Couple, opposite her real-life husband, Jack Klugman.

Somers is a familiar screen character, wearing big glasses and various wigs to accompany Charles. Her wigs and big glasses have quickly earned her a reputation since 1957.

Why does Brett Summers always wear a wig? "I don't want to look good to other people and then go home and look terrible," she says. Wigs have become a staple beauty accessory for celebrities, helping them keep up with the latest beauty styles and colors without having to take chances.

Did George Washington wear a wig?

George Washington's hairstyle was iconic and simple, and most Americans probably recall it immediately - or they can at least relive the memory by pulling out a dollar or quarter.

When you picture George Washington, you probably think of a double-breasted blazer, matching breeches, a linen bow tie and a beautifully done white haircut. Most of us can immediately recall the iconic curly headband - but the story behind Washington's hair may surprise you.

Washington wore a low ponytail with a wide forehead and black ribbons tying them together. While most men who wore this style wore wigs, Washington's wig was natural - except for that off-white color. Older paintings of Washington actually show his natural hair color as reddish brown, which means his snow-white hair was likely dyed with wig powder.

Typically, 18th-century hairstyles are those of King Louis XVI, Mozart, and even Washington's successors, John Adams and Thomas Jefferson, who were known for their white, curly, ornate wigs.

Unlike those who chose to wear an already-styled wig over their natural hair, Washington's hair took longer to set each day. Being very obsessive about his appearance was a trait shared by Washington and his wife, Martha.

Despite common misconceptions, George Washington never actually wore a wig. He was one of five redheaded presidents who painted his hair white with wig powder, as white hair is still considered very fashionable and a sign of wealth and knowledge. However, the next four presidents, John Adams, Thomas Jefferson, James Madison, and James Monroe, did wear wigs.

Does Tucker Carlson wear a wig?

California-born celebrity TV host, commentator and ardent supporter of former U.S. President Donald Trump, Tucker Carlson's hairstyle seems to have remained unchanged for nearly a decade. Especially after his famous Tucker Carlson Tonight show kicked off in 2016, his center-parted business haircut has somehow remained his signature look. That's probably why people, even some of the most famous TV personalities like Billy Bush, started asking about Tucker Carlson's lush, thick hair.

On The Tonight Show with Tucker Carlson on September 23, 2020, Tucker Carlson ditched his hair or wig; in fact, in this case, he wore a wig, to be precise. Quora, Reddit, Twitter and a host of other forums were soon bombarded with comments about the Lego issue. "Does Tucker Carlson wear a wig?" "Does Tucker Carlson wear a wig?" "Does Tucker Carlson wear a wig?"

Meanwhile, Carlson supporters packed Lego stores and not only that, according to former President Donald Trump, "We should all start buying Lego wigs!" The cornerstone of America's economic future will be Legos. Well, that's what followers and loyalists do, isn't it? Does Tucker Carlson wear a wig? We need a valid answer! Yes, Tucker Carlson did wear a wig at some point.

#Dolly Parton without a wig #wig #human hair wigs #fashion #dolly parton

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imagine-a-life-like-this · 3 years

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What If? (H.JS)

Warnings : mention of divorce

Word Count : 1897

Synopsis : she had never seen jisung as anything more than just a friend. that is until her and jisung volunteered to do a couples photoshoot for their mutual friend. seeing the way he looked at her, the way they just seemed to match perfectly had her wondering, what if they were more than friends?

“He said my portfolio isn’t good enough. There isn’t enough variety.” Hyunjin whined as he plopped beside me on the couch. I could see the disappointment and exhaustion in his eyes when he looked at me. He had been working on his photography portfolio for months now, hoping to impress his professor.

“Did he give you any ideas to help expand your portfolio?” I asked, running my fingers through his hair. It’s always helped calm him down, or that’s what he told me.

“He wants me to try to do a couples photoshoot, since I do a lot of portrait shoots. But I don’t even know any couples!” I slowly began to massage his head as he moved to rest his head in my lap, his eyes closing as he did so.

“Y/N and I will do it.” Jisung offered from the kitchen. Hyunjin’s eyes shot open, meeting mine immediately.

“Is there something you two aren’t telling me?” He questioned, causing Jisung and I to burst into laughter.

“No, but we can act like it front of the camera.” Jisung chuckled as he sat in the chair beside the couch.

“Besides, most of the school thinks we’re dating anyway.” I joked. Ever since high school, people have thought Jisung and I were couple since we’ve always been so close. Jisung is quite introverted and nervous around a lot of people, and he’s told me before that I comfort him just by being beside him. Growing up, he always clung to me in one way or another, not that I ever minded.

“Yeah, when I met you two in high school, I could have sworn you two were a couple.” Hyunjin added, sitting up on the couch. “But you two would really do a couples photoshoot for me?” We exchanged looks before nodded.

“You’re our friend and this is important to you. Of course we’ll help.” I smiled.

The three of us set out to find some nice shooting locations the next day. It was the perfect day for a photoshoot; the sun shining high in the sky. Every once in a while, Hyunjin would stop us and we’d take some pictures. Jisung and I looked up some references so we knew how to pose and make it look more realistic.

There was a lot of longing stares and laughter at how ridiculous this felt. Hyunjin was completely focused as Jisung and I posed for him. This was his final project and was worth 50% of his grade, and I could tell it was stressing him out. We tried our best to look as in love as possible, trying to hold in our laughter until the picture was taken, but sometimes it was difficult.

“Stop looking at me like that.” Jisung chuckled, hiding his face behind his hands. I reached out, taking one of his hands in mine and continued looking longingly into his eyes. “Yah!” I watched as his cheeks became a rosy colour.

“Let me love you!” I yelled as he suddenly took off running. As I caught up to him, I jumped on his back, thinking it would tackle him to the ground, but I was surprised when he caught my legs in his hands and continued running with me on his back. “Yah Han Jisung!” I shrieked, begging him to drop me.

“Didn’t think this one through, did you princess?” I cringed at the cliché nickname, lightly hitting the top of his head in protest. “Yah! Don’t hit me!”

The three of us ended up at a cafe looking through the pictures Hyunjin took throughout the day, after he downloaded them to his laptop. Jisung would point at one he thought was really nice, asking to send them to him later. But I just stared, my heart suddenly picking up pace.

I stared at the pictures, seeing the wide smiles on both our faces. How perfectly our hands seemed to fit together. Hyunjin even took pictures of us when we were just being ourselves, running around the park with me on his back. You couldn’t tell the difference between the pictures where we were acting like a couple and when we were just hanging out.

In all the years I’ve known Jisung, I’ve never seen him as anything more than my best friend. But looking at these pictures is like looking into another reality where he’s my boyfriend, and I don’t mind it.

Han Jisung has always been the person I turn to when I have news to share, good or bad. Through all the hard times and fights, he stuck by me, promising me he’d never leave. He’s the person that knows me better than I know myself. He knows exactly what I need without me asking for it. It’s like he can read my mind.

There’s no denying that he’s handsome either. He has a smile that can light up a room. Whenever I’m having a bad day, his smile alone can brighten it, bringing a smile to my face as well. And he’s got the cutest cheeks that puff out when he shoves food in his face, much like a squirrel. It’s one of my favourite parts about him. Honestly, I love everything about him.

There’s no doubt in my mind that I accidentally fell for my best friend. I fell for him a long time ago, but I refused to admit it. But looking at these pictures, my heart can’t deny it anymore. I’m in love with Han Jisung.

“Hey, Y/N, you okay?” Jisung’s voice pulled me out of my thoughts. “Do you not like the pictures? Are we not a cute couple?” He joked, his famous smile dancing across his lips. I couldn’t help but smile back.

“We’re obviously the cutest! All the pictures are amazing, Jinnie.” Hyunjin smiled at us, the stress seeming to wash off him completely.

“Honestly, you two would make a really cute couple. Look at this picture.” He showed us a picture he took just a bit ago when we got to the café. Jisung and I were standing in line, waiting to order. As per usual, Jisung had his arm draped across my shoulders, and I was holding his hand that was hanging off my shoulder, our fingers laced together. We were staring at each other, wide smiles on our faces. We weren’t even posing, that’s just how we’ve always been. “You are the happiest with each other.” Hyunjin added, but Jisung and I were both silent, realization hitting us both.

“Wow.” Jisung breathed out, his eyes suddenly meeting mine. “I’m so handsome!” He exclaimed, a wide smile taking over his face. I let out a laugh, but I could feel my heart drop. It was obvious that I was the only one who fell.

I eventually excused myself with the excuse of a project due in a couple days that I needed to finish. I put my earbuds in and took the long way home, overthinking every little thing between Jisung and I over the years. When did my feelings change?

Was it the night my parents divorced and I couldn’t stop crying, wondering what went wrong? Jisung came over after I had called him and he heard I was crying. I told him not to, but he still showed up, drenched from the pouring rain, holding a bag of all my favourite snacks. He held me until my sobs faded and wiped away the drying tears.

Maybe it was when we were partnered for a project in high school and we were in my room, laughing about something completely unrelated to the project. We stayed up late into the night, until my dad came upstairs, offering Jisung the spare room to sleep in, saying he already called his parents. Jisung was awake before me, waking me up with breakfast in bed and a shy smile.

It could have been when I was stood up, and instead of just picking me up and allowing me to do the lonely walk of shame out of the fancy restaurant, he barged in, apologizing profusely for being late. I smiled when I saw him dressed in his best suit, his hair a mess from the obvious run he did to get there. He even paid despite the high price and his dwindling bank account.

Or it could have been a mix of everything. Maybe my feelings were never platonic. I always seemed to laugh louder and smile more when he’s around.

A short vibration from my phone pulled me from my thoughts. I opened the message from Hyunjin, seeing a couple pictures from today on my screen along with a short message. I don’t think you two are just friends.

The pictures were ones he didn’t show us at the café, or at least not when I was there. The first one seemed to be from when we were just wandering around looking for a location to shoot. I was looking somewhere off camera, probably looking around for a place to shoot. But Jisung’s eyes were on me. His hands were in his pockets while a soft smile danced across his lips. The way he looked at me was the way guys in movies look at their lover. Eyes full of love and longing.

The second picture was during one of the moments we were trying to act like a couple, but we couldn’t contain our laughter. His hands cupped my face, our eyes locked together in a sweet gaze. You could practically hear our laughter just by looking at the picture. And in both of our eyes was the same longing look Jisung gave me in the previous picture.

The final picture was another from us acting like a couple. I had closed my eyes just like the couple in the reference picture, thinking Jisung did too. Our foreheads were touching, his hands cupping my face once again, and my hands resting on his chest. But his eyes weren’t closed. They were open, looking at me with such love that I could feel the butterflies erupt in my stomach.

I stopped walking, just staring at the third picture, hope building up in my stomach. The lyrics of the song playing in my earbuds was background music to the sound of my heart pounding.

Just then, Jisung’s contact picture popped up on screen as he called me. He always knew when I needed him. He knew me better than I knew myself. I should have known I couldn’t keep these feelings a secret from him. He could read me as easily as you can read your favourite book.

“Turn around.” Was all he said before hanging up. Slowly, I listened to his directions, turning around, and seeing him standing just a few feet away. “You felt it too, didn’t you.” He said, neither one of us taking a step. Strangers just walked on by, not paying us any attention, as if they were extras in a drama we were starring in.

“Yeah.” Was all I could say, and a smile formed on his face. “I think I always have.” I added, surprised he could hear me with how soft my voice was. He finally walked towards me, closing the short distance between us before cupping my face.

“Me too.” He whispered before pressing his lips to mine in the first of many kisses we’d share.

#stray kids imagine #skz imagine #stray kids au #skz au #han jisung imagine #han jisung au #han jisung x reader #han jisung #lee felix #kim seungmin #yang jeongin #bang chan #lee minho #seo changbin #hwang hyunjin

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cherrycheridarling · 3 years

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'someday maybe' | t.h.

tom holland x singer!reader

warnings: one swear? fluff and angst? kisses

summary: you're so close to finishing your second album when your manager pushes the deadline, your ex tom helps you write the final track.

{listen to someday by michael bublè and meghan trainor (if you want)}

wc: 2.1k

"Someday maybe when we're old and grey,"

"Yes, yes. I know. You are not being a very helpful manager right now, Noelle." you spoke to your phone as you paced around the living room, "Okay. I'll get working on it. Bye." you huffed and threw your phone against the couch.

Your album was due to be released in two months and you needed one more song to tie it all together. Your manager, Noelle, was pushing you to finish the song so she could start the promo of the album.

You were incredibly grateful for your career, but the pressure weighed down on you everyday. Never ending.

With a final groan you picked up your acoustic guitar and sat on the couch. Picking at the strings, trying to find a melody. You hit record on your voice memo app before strumming away.

"Someday maybe when we're old and grey, we can be in love once more. 'Till then I won't give my love away. Darling, I'm forever only yours." you sang softly.

You and Tom had a joyous relationship. A love that only ever existed in movies and fairytales. The type of love story that gets told for generations and onwards. But alas, all good things must come to an end.

Your breakup was calm, serene and clean. A mutual agreement as if your whole relationship had been a business deal. There were no loose ends or jealous passive aggressive remarks made. Just maturity and respect for one another.

Your pinky still held the promise ring he gave you. A token of appreciation. A reassurance that he'd always be there for you. And he lived up to his word.

Tom walked in and sat across from you, startling you, "Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you. Whatcha writing?"

"Need a final song for the album. Sorry for showing up unannounced. I just get better inspiration here, with all the memories, you know?" you timidly looked back down at the guitar.

Tom nodded, "No need to apologize. We gave you a spare key for a reason."

You couldn't stop yourself from spilling the words from your lips, "That was when we were together."

You could hear the awkward silence start to fill the room before he spoke again, "Still our best friend, Y/L/N."

The pain that crossed your features was instant. Being addressed by your last name felt like a stab to the gut. Especially by Tom.

You nodded before playing again, "Can I help you write it?" Tom asked as he sat next to you.

"Dancer, gymnast, actor and now songwriter. How many hidden talents have you got, Holland?" you teased making him laugh.

He shrugged with a smile, "It's kind of like writing a poem, right?"

You pondered on his analogy before slowly nodding, "Yeah, it kind of is. Give it a go."

You began playing the melody and he listened intently for a few moments before singing, "I love seeing you happy. I miss seeing that smile. It's been such a long time. A– Nope. Nope. Nuh-uh. I can't do it." he shook his head aggressively with a loud laugh as you stopped playing.

"No!" you quickly protested, "That was amazing! Don't leave me hanging, c'mon." you nudged him with your shoulder before strumming again.

"Alright, alright." he ran his hands down his face, "And although I don't have you, I know now that I need to?" he paused and gave you a skeptical look before you nodded again, "Somehow make you mine. Mmm."

"Oh, okay. He's giving ad-libs and all. Get it." you nodded as he laughed.

You were so engrossed on Tom actually writing a song with you that you didn't focus on the lyrics he was singing.

"And I won't lie, it's hard seeing you with him 'cause I know he can't hold you like I can." his mood seemed to drop by a thousand as the words left his lips.

"When can we meet this boyfriend of yours?" Harrison flicked your forehead from across the booth.

You, Harrison, Tom and Tuwaine were all sat in the local pub. Pints of beer in front of each of you as loud music and chatting filled your ears.

You shrugged, "He's picking me up, so possibly tonight."

Tuwaine's eyes lit up, "Fina-fucking-lly. I swear you've kept him hidden for years."

"We've only been together for three months, T." you laughed lightly with the group of boys.

And they met him. It wasn't the smoothest of introductions, but an introduction nonetheless.

"Boys, this is Kai. Kai this is Tom, Harrison and Tuwaine." you gestured to the parties as they all shook hands and gave polite greetings.

"So," Harrison started, "What do you do for a living, Kai?"

Kai cleared his throat, "I'm a Senior Resident at Kingston Hospital. Working towards being Head of Pediatrics."

Tuwaine and Harrison both nodded, impressed by his profession. Tom's face remained expressionless as he stared at Kai with cold eyes.

"Do you have any siblings, Kai? Any psycho ex-girlfriends? Any wacky cousins?" Tuwaine joked making everyone laugh. "'Cause Y/N has a lot of wacky cousins."

"We could be in love once more,"

"Hey!" you gasped with a laugh.

Kai pulled you closer to him as he laughed, "No, no wacky cousins or psycho exes, but I do have an older sister and a younger brother."

This game of ask and answer continued on for a few more minutes. Tom didn't say a word, just sipped his beer and burned holes into Kai with his eyes. If looks could kill, Kai would be six feet under.

Kai was a sweetheart, but you two ended ages ago. His work got too much for him and your job had you touring and travelling every second.

You picked up after him with the chorus before diving into your own verse, "I remember that love song. I sang every word wrong, but you didn't mind, no, no."

"I love the things you do. It's how you do the things you love. Well it's not a love song, not a love song. I love the way you get me, but correct me if I'm wrong. This is not a love song, not a love song!" Tom belted the 'Austin & Ally' song from the top of his lungs.

"Your turn!" he pointed the pretend mic in your direction.

You laughed, not knowing any of the lyrics, but still wanting to participate, "I love that you not a licket! And you own a watch and chicken! We got a car!" you sang with full confidence, making Tom burst with laughter.

"Yes! Sing it, darling!" he cheered you on, "Absolutely butchering the lyrics, but sing it!"

"Being stuck inside a car. If it's not a doe, don't kiss it! I can't hear a missing, when there's a shoe inside the ceiling! If you really need to fart, you can lunch on a pig farm! Love song! Love song!" you couldn't even hear the song in the background, your voice overpowering it.

Tom was hunched over from laughing before he came back up and planted a soft kiss on your lips, "You are one hundred percent ridiculous and I love it."

You brought yourself back to reality and sang again, "And I'll admit that I miss you, but only if you do. 'Cause you know that I'm shy. And I can't lie, it's hard seeing you with her. 'Cause I know she can't love you like I can."

Tom's eyes met yours as the words fell from your gentle lips. His mouth was slightly agape as you continued to strum.

"You are absolute rubbish. Imagine coming in eighth. Embarassing." you laughed as you crushed Harrison in a game of Mario Kart.

He shoved you with his shoulder, "You're such a try ha—"

"—It's always the same, Tom! How can I trust you? You follow gorgeous models on Instagram and expect me to trust you?" Nadia's voice cut Harrison's words off.

You looked at him with wide eyes, his expression matching yours.

"Those women that I follow have been my friends for ages. Who I follow on a stupid app shouldn't effect how much you trust me."

You paused the game, cutting off the theme song, "How long have they been fighting like this?"

Harrison sighed, a long groan following, "A few weeks. I think it started when she saw that he liked your Instagram picture?"

You stammered, "M-my post? She got mad about my post?"

Harrison nodded before opening his mouth to speak, but Nadia cut him off again, "And she practically lives here! How do you think it makes me feel seeing my boyfriend play house with a superstar?!"

"Aw, a superstar? I'm flattered." you joked making Harrison stifle a laugh.

"I've been friends with Y/N since we were in nappies!"

"I can't be with you if you're going to be friends with her."

Your laughter abruptly died at her words. Harrison stiffened beside you.

"Y-you can't be serious. You can't make me choose between you and her."

"Why? Because you're gonna choose her?" you could hear her voice crack.

"I-" Tom couldn't make out a sentence for a few moments, "Yeah. I'm gonna choose her."

Your heart fell from it's place, stopping at your feet. Harrison brought a hand to his mouth, "H-he chose you. He chose you!" he whisper shouted before you shushed him.

"Of course. I don't know why I expected anything different. I think I'll be going now." Nadia's footsteps approached the living room.

You and Harrison scrambled to look as if you weren't eavesdropping on their argument/breakup.

Tom followed close behind her, "I'm sorry. I really am."

She nodded, hand on the doorknob, "I know. Goodbye." she stepped out of the house, slamming the front door shut in the process.

Tom let out a breath of relief before turning to you and Harrison who were staring at the Mario Kart home screen with the infamous tune playing.

"You guys are terrible actors."

"'Till then I won't give my love away,"

"I'm forever only yours." the both of you finished the song in unison.

There was a moment of silence before you reached over and ended the voice recording.

"T-that was really good. You can change what I wrote, I know it isn't as good as anything you would've written, but I tried. And it was actually pretty fun and I never knew how difficult songwriting was un—"

"—Kiss me." you cut Tom's rambling off.

His eyes grew wide, "W-wha—"

"—Kiss me, Holland."

He swallowed, a small smile stretching on his lips, "Thank God."

And with that, he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours. Interlocking like missing puzzle pieces. Moving in sync like waves in the ocean. Soft and sweet, but filled with passion. You could feel his smile against your lips causing you to grin.

His hand came up to pull your face closer into his. Caressing your jaw, fingertips playing with the hairs on the back of your neck. His other hand holding your hip in a tight grip. Pressing the pads of his digits into your flesh, scared that you might slip through his fingers again.

One of your hands was pressed flat against his chest. Steadying yourself, the heat of the kiss threatening to throw you off of your axis. Your other hand tangled itself into Tom's curls. Pulling and tugging lightly causing small groans to fall from Tom's lips. Your fingernails scratching his scalp. Pulling him impossibly closer to you.

"I want my ten pounds." Harrison's voice snapped you and Tom out of your make out session.

Him and Tuwaine stood in the doorway, shit eating grins on their faces.

Tuwaine laughed before placing a ten pound note in Harrison's palm, "You guys couldn't have waited until next month to get back together?"

"You two were betting on us?" Tom laughed at his mates who nodded.

You shook your head with a smile, "Absolute idiots, all of you."

Harrison let out a happy sigh and pocketed the money, "Today was a good day. Had a sick ass shoot. Got ten pounds. And my best friends are finally together again." he waltzed into the kitchen with Tuwaine, leaving you and Tom alone again.

Tom's shy expression met your gleeful one before he spoke, "Someday came a lot sooner than expected, huh?" he chuckled.

You nodded with a laugh, "It certainly did and I am not complaining."

He sent you a wide grin before cupping your face and connecting your lips to his again.

"Darling, I'm forever only yours."

#tom holland #tom holland angst #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fluff #tom holland smut #tom holland x actress!reader #tom holland x famous!reader #tom holland x osterfield!reader #tom holland x reader #tom holland x singer!reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland imagine #tom holland oneshot #tom holland one shot #tom holland blurb #tom holland headcanon #tom holland series #tom holland fic

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wondernus · 3 years

Text

12: We're on a boat!

pairing: professor!seungcheol x baker!reader sm au

chapter genre: fluff

chapter warnings: cursing, mentions of food and TONS of alcohol (it’s new year’s eve)

wc: 2.1k

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“Minghao, that was disgusting,” you grimaced at the aftertaste the alcohol left in your mouth, passing your empty shot glass back to your friend. The ten of you were crowded around Seungkwan’s car in the parking lot by the dock, pregaming before heading onto the yacht for the New Year’s celebration event. Vernon and Chan dropped some of you off earlier and immediately drove away after seeing Minghao’s usually calm aura change into a rather sinister one. The World Literature professor had somehow been able to sneak a bottle of kaoliang liquor and some shot glasses in the inner pocket of his blazer and was currently getting everybody in your group to finish the entire bottle before going in.

All of you were at least three drinks in, and you didn’t know if it was the alcohol talking or the fact that you were surrounded by the people you loved, but you were having a great time. The boys were clumped together on the dancefloor, Seungkwan and DK having an intense dance battle while Wonwoo laughed and clapped from behind. The rest of the boys had their arms around each other and swayed to the beat of the music, singing at the top of their lungs. You and Hoshi were sitting at the bar within eye distance of the boys, both harboring a glass of iced water in your hands. Seungkwan’s motherly instincts immediately went into full effect after his drunk radar went off after seeing you and Hoshi try to leave your group a few times hand-in-hand to dance battle strangers around you. He decided to put you two in “time-out” for the next few minutes. However, when a familiar beat came on, Seungkwan and Seokmin started shouting for Hoshi to join them, the “time-out” rule completely forgotten. The man sitting beside you hesitated for a minute before turning to you with pleading eyes and a pout. You nodded for him to go, and he immediately jumped off of his barstool to run to the group, not before hugging you and shouting, “You know where to find us, right?” to which you shouted back it was pretty hard to lose the group when the three tallest men in the club belonged to your group. Soon the trio was screaming the lyrics to their favorite song while an all familiar “Go Soonyoung. Go Soonyoung. Go Soonyoung” filled the air. You sat and smiled at the rowdy group.

Unfortunately, the water wasn’t working because the longer you sat on the barstool, the drunker you got. You winced at the brightness of your phone screen and immediately regretted not setting your phone to night mode. Vernon was updating you on his pancake adventure with Chan and the baby. Your stomach growled at the sight of the stacks of pancakes, and you suddenly had an urge to buy the overpriced food they were selling above deck. Just then, someone tapped you on your shoulder, and you turned around to see a very familiar face you haven’t seen in a while.

“Dr. Yoon?” you were definitely drunk. There was no way he was here. Have you manifested the image of him for so long that he would literally show up when you least expected?

“Oh yn!” he was grinning while holding two paper trays filled with fries. “You want some fries?”

It turned out Dr. Yoon, who reintroduced himself as Jeonghan, lost his friend a while back while buying fries and spent the last few minutes walking around, trying to convince the random people around him to take his extra tray of fries. It never really occurred to him that people usually wouldn’t accept food from strangers, especially at clubs, until you told him. The two of you managed to drunkenly run to one of the booths at the side and snag it immediately after it cleared up. Even more so, Jeonghan spent the last few minutes catching up with you and feeding you the greasy fries while you desperately tried to sober up - your whole upper half leaned against him like he was your life support. He repeatedly reassured you and said that he found it cute, but you only felt more embarrassed. You were never going to pregame with Minghao ever again. Kaoliang liquor was dangerous.

-----

“Dude, I can’t believe we lost yn,” Seungcheol was going to have a mental breakdown, which, by the way, was definitely not a good feeling to have when drunk. He recalled sitting you and Hoshi down at the bar and keeping an eye on you two before blacking out after Minghao and Jun returned to the group with another round of shots. The next thing he knew, he was sitting on one of the sofas on the deck of the yacht, the other boys sprawled out next to him, the cold ocean breeze cool against his skin.

“Did we miss the countdown?” Jun rubbed his eyes and shoved Hoshi’s sleeping body off of his. Wonwoo shook his head letting him know that they didn’t miss the countdown.

Woozi approached the group with a grin on his face. There was a man walking alongside him who seemed to be his acquaintance. “Guys,” Woozi addressed the group, causing the men to groan and look up at him, “This is my coworker, Joshua.”

His friend waved at the group and his eyes widened in excitement after realizing who was in front of him, “Dude, you never told me you were friends with the Twitter dilfs.”

Accepting Joshua into the group was fairly easy. He also lost his friend who came with him and spent the last half hour wandering around the yacht before he bumped into Woozi who was in line for the restroom. He reassured Seungcheol that his yn friend he was continuously calling for was going to be fine because everybody in their friend group had yn’s location and what was yn going to do? Swim? Luckily, yn texted Mingyu earlier and told him that they were fine, and Seungcheol sighed in relief. The boys quickly accepted Joshua into the group after Woozi told him to buy them all a round of shots to which Joshua replied, “Who do you think I am? The next three rounds are on me,” garnering an eruption of cheers from his new friends.

Just like that, they were back on the dancefloor ten minutes before the countdown, blackouts and hangovers completely forgotten, drunker than ever. They made a last-minute plan to ditch the dancefloor and celebrate the new year on the ship's deck after being pushed by a mob of people in all directions. They were practically a fresh and unbroken set of pool balls waiting for someone to start the match at that point. The fresh air they felt was a great complement to their sweaty skin, and it was nice to not need to shout at others while the bass from the speakers constantly reverberated in their ears. There were still a few minutes left until the countdown. Seungkwan, Seokmin, and Soonyoung were still gone after previously stating that they needed to use the restroom together. In the distance, Mingyu, Jun, and Joshua, who left to take pictures, all let out a collective scream and jumped up and down in excitement.

“I can’t believe it finally happened.”

“You too? We’ve been rooting for them since the first pineapple bun.”

Before Seungcheol could turn around to look at what caused the commotion, Jihoon made a joke about daring Soonyoung to jump overboard and was immediately lectured by Wonwoo who dragged Seungcheol along with him. An announcement blared through the speakers that the countdown would start in a minute and the bakery boys yelled at the rest of the group to join them.

-----

10! Seungkwan, Seokmin, and Soonyoung managed to return to the group just in time, but not without a tray of free tequila shots from the different patrons around them. Apparently, the people around them really enjoyed their company, whether it was when they were tearing it up on the dance floor or whether it was when they were joking with those waiting in the long line for the restroom. Jun looked at the shots with so much fear in his eyes while Minghao patted him on his back.

9! Jeonghan and you also spent the last hour receiving free drinks from those around you left and right.

“People must be very generous tonight,” you thought out loud.

“Yeah, I definitely haven’t been telling them that we’re newly engaged,” Jeonghan winked at you.

The both of you were standing on the deck of the superyacht, leaning against the railing. The captain dropped the yacht's anchor a while back when the yacht reached a place where one could turn back to see the twinkling lights coming from docks and piers from the ocean. The yacht gently rocked with the waves, and you were happily wrapped in Jeonghan’s arms, your drunkness a now numb and tingly sensation. The two of you were staring at the ocean and admiring how pretty the night sky was on that particular day. You didn’t see it, but he was smiling at you like you were the greatest thing in the world – like the feeling of biting into a freshly baked chocolate chip cookie, the edges crispy and the center gooey, both the chocolate and dough melting into one.

8! Seokmin handed Seungcheol a shot.

7! Mingyu complained about there being no lime and salt.

6! Seungcheol heard a familiar laugh that made him forget about his surroundings for a split second.

5! Wonwoo put his arm around Seungcheol’s shoulder.

4! Jeonghan spun you around to face him.

3! Seokmin accidentally took his shot early.

2! Seungkwan quickly slipped his shot into the older boy’s hand and took the empty glass before the rest of the group took notice to what happened. It was fine. He was the designated driver after all.

1! The crowd erupted in cheers, and the group clinked their glasses and tilted their heads back to take their shots. Fireworks lit up the sky in a multitude of vibrant colors. Jun was busy yelling, “Chase with a smile. Chase with a smile,” at those who were complaining about the lack of lime and salt. Soonyoung was trying to hug Jihoon, who kept pushing him away until he finally gave in. It was a new year; he would allow it just once. Seungkwan was in the middle of recording a video of the group with his flash on which resulted in him accidentally blinding Seungcheol for a split second. This caused Seungcheol to turn away from the group to try to blink the dizziness away. When he finally recuperated, he couldn’t help but stare at the scene in front of him.

“Oh my god,” Seungcheol groaned, “I’m so glad we made the sexiling rule. They were literally sucking each other’s faces off. It was disgusting.”

Joshua raised his eyebrow at him. He also saw what happened. “Dude are you ok?” he questioned. “All they did was kiss once.”

The rest of the group quickly turned to see what Seungcheol was talking about and immediately burst into excitement when they realized who they were looking at. You broke away from Jeonghan and buried your face in his chest to hide in embarrassment when you recognized the group of voices calling your name. The man beside you jokingly covered you with his blazer to hide you when he realized you were flustered. It was a really cute and sweet sight, and it was custom to kiss someone on New Year’s. So why did seeing you kiss someone else make Seungcheol feel so annoyed?

the kids are going to be alright

synopsis: life as we know it (2010 film) au | when an unexpected accident leaves you and your blind date from five years ago to become caretakers of your mutual goddaughter, you are forced to learn how to navigate parenthood all while trying to balance work and social life.

a/n: join the taglist!

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taglist: @seokcalibur, @skylions-den, @semicolorn, @boowanie, @niikipuff, @serenadesvt, @tfmingyu, @jeonjungkaka, @shiningstar-byulxx, @onigiriyuki, @justasoftstan, @fr0gluver, @fairyjius, @happyvitamin, @noniesgirl, @hanniewife, @amymoonl, @melkwhore

unable to tag: @fairyjius, @hanniewife

#seventeen social media au #seventeen sm au #svt smau #scoups x reader #seungcheol x reader #scoups fluff #scoups angst #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen fake texts

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