#please his deadpan deliveries always take me the fuck out

[papertowness]

most unrealistic thing ab house is people acting like james wilson isn’t funny as hell

#like when he and house are eating in the cafeteria and house is on his ‘ stacy is still in love with me ‘ stint #and wilson is like ‘ yes i’m with you these makes complete sense ‘ #or when house was in the mri machine and wilson was like ‘ house . this is God . ‘ #when he was playing poker with cuddy and house was on the phone with him so he was talking in ‘ code ‘ #when house was using his office because he wanted his carpet back and wilson walks in and he’s like #‘ hm . that’s weird . the door says james wilson . what a crazy typo ‘ ( or smth ) #when he and cuddy are in the stairwell and cuddy is like ‘ are we here to hide from house ‘ and he’s like ‘ unless you wanna make out ‘ 😭😭 #please his deadpan deliveries always take me the fuck out #motherfucker has me crying from laughing so hard sometimes . james if i was there i would laugh at all your bits #house #house md #james wilson #houseposting #lgbtq #lgbt

[brendaaaa]

Best Summer Ever (Max Mayfield x fem!Reader)

“This is gonna be the best summer ever!“ Lucas pumped his fist into the air.

He let out a whoop and cannon-balled into the pool, screaming as he went.

“Oh god,” Will covered his eyes. “He’s going to kill himself.”

“Ah, don’t worry, Will the wise,” Mike set a hand on the shorter boy’s shoulder. “He’s fine.”

You peered over the edge, into the pool. “It looks pretty deep.”

You hated deep water. It was pretty much an irrational fear. There was nothing that was going to get you in that water.

You looked over at your girlfriend, Maxine. She was looking hot as ever, with her long red hair in a messy bun and her freckles sprinkled across her sun kissed face. She wore a red bikini, a good look on her, you had to admit.

You look back at the water. It was dark blue, intimidating.

The party was situated in the backyard of Kimmy Taylor, Robin’s super cool (and rich) girlfriend. She absolutely loved the ‘children’ when Robin introduced them, and because Kimmy would be working, she had generously offered her pool to the kids for the summer.

It was pretty awesome, except for the fact that you were scared silly of deep water.

“Hey, El!” Dustin called out, running over to pick up the brunette girl, “let’s get in the water!”

He ran over to the edge of the pool, Eleven shrieking, pretending to be terrified although anyone could tell she wasn’t really, and jumped.

The two made a huge splash when they entered the water, and you shielded your face, although the rest of your body got soaked.

They came up laughing, and smiling.

You grinned too, as their smiles were the most contagious ever, and watched as Will and Mike jumped in as well.

Lucas, already in the water, came up from behind the two boys and started splashing them.

Everyone in the water started hurling water at the others, and it was actually pretty funny for you to watch.

“Hey love,” a voice said in your ear, and you felt soft arms wrap around your middle.

You blushed, and turned to look at your favorite girl. She rested her head on your shoulder, blue eyes smiling up at you.

“We should get in.”

“Wha-?” You said, not really hearing what she had said. Her beautiful face was too distracting.

“I said,” she crinkled up her nose, “we should get in.”

You paled slightly as you realized what she was talking about.

“Uh, no. I- I can’t,” you looked away, breaking eye contact.

“Aw why not love?” She whined, placing her cold hand on your jaw and turning your head back to face her.

You shivered slightly and looked at the pool. It looked like a blue pit. Deep, dark, and ominous.

“I don’t know…” you mumbled.

“Why not?” She said again. “It’s so hot outside. I mean c’mon y/n, I know you wore that bathing suit just for me…,” she said with a smirk, and you reddened, looking down at your rather skimpy one piece, and she continued, “But you wore it to swim too, right?”

Well, yes. But you didn’t know that the pool was going to be this deep!

Aloud you said, “Yeah...I guess,” not wanting to disappoint Max.

“Alright let’s get in then!” She said cheerily, and shook her flip flops off her feet.

You gulped, eyeing the water suspiciously.

“I- I can’t,” you said nervously.

“Oh sure you can,” Max rolled her eyes, “it’s just water, y/n!”

You opened your mouth to say something, and then closed it. As much as you wanted to please her, you knew that there was absolutely no way you were getting in that pool.

No way. You would stay perfectly nice and dry today, thank you very much.

Ironically, just after that thought, your lovely babe decided it would be fun if she pushed you into the pool.

You screamed, flailing your arms as you tumbled down towards the water.

The party all turned to look, some laughing, some smiling, but none appearing distressed.

You belly flopped in, creating a loud smacking sound as you were submerged in the water.

The water was cold, and even though it was miserably hot outside, it was not refreshing or nice at all.

It was freezing and miserable.

You realized with a jolt of panic that you were sinking to the bottom, like a rock.

Your cheeks puffed outwards, trying to hold your breath in, as well as the scream that was just dying to come out.

You kicked upwards quickly, propelling your arms around, trying to get back up to the surface desperately.

It wasn’t that far to the top, and soon you were gasping and coughing up water. Max plopped into the water next you, and wrapped her arms around you.

She leaned her forehead against yours, a smile tugging at her lips.

“Nice in here, right?”

You shook your head wildly, a few tears slipping down your cheeks.

“No, no. I want to get out. Right now!” You hiccuped, still kicking your legs back and forth aggressively, trying to tread water and stay afloat.

Max frowned, a bit concerned by your reaction, “okay…” she said slowly.

She pulled herself out first, and reached a hand out to help you get out. All of a sudden she stopped, peering at you.

“Y/n, are you scared of water?” She asked.

Well yeah, no shit.

You glared at her, “What do you think?”

“I-“

“Yes!” You cried out. “Yes! Of course I’m scared of water, why do you think I didn’t want to jump in?!”

She stared at you, a little unsure of what to say.

“You pushed me in! Why would you do that?!” You cried.

“Y/n,” she started, hands on her knees.

“Get me out!!!” You screeched. “Right now!!”

“Okay okay,” she grabbed your forearms, and pulled you out of the pool, dripping wet.

“You wanna, um, go inside?”

You nodded, huffing.

“Okay, uh, you can do that then. Um, y/n I’m really sorry,” she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I swear if you’d just told me I would’ve never pushed you in,” she said sincerely.

You wiped your face off with your hand.

“I’m going inside,” you said stiffly, and marched off.

The rest of the party watched open mouthed, confused at the scene that had just unfolded.

You stomped into Kimmy’s house, flopping your wet body onto the couch. You groaned, feeling frustrated at your girlfriend and at yourself.

It was dumb that you got so upset with Max. She didn’t mean to push you in. She wasn’t that type of person.

Ugh. Why didn’t you just tell her that you were scared?! Why did your pride have to get in the way?

You groaned again, and clapped a hand over your forehead, covering your eyes from the light flowing through the window.

You surveyed the room. It was pretty nice, with some expensive furniture. Everyone’s clothes were scattered amongst the floor. Your eyes honed in on Max’s purple sweatshirt and brown shorts.

You smirked, getting an idea.

You pulled yourself off the couch, and closed the blinds on the window.

…..

“Is it just me, or did that pool get warmer as we swam in it?” you heard Dustin’s voice.

You were flopped in an armchair, watching tv and cuddled up in an afghan. It was surprisingly cold in the house, due to the air conditioning working overtime in the hot summer heat.

“You were probably just pissing in the pool,” Max retorted.

“Shut up Max,” Mike said. “We just probably got used to the water,” you heard him say to Dustin.

All of the party had shuffled in at this point. They all looked freezing cold, wrapped up in only their swimsuits and towels, shivering in the ac-blasted house.

“Hi, Y/n,” Max said, rather shyly.

You remembered that she probably thought you were still mad at her.

“Hi,” you said, giving her your warmest smile.

She smiled back, looking down at the ground. At least now she knew that you weren’t mad.

“So, who wants some pizza?” Lucas stretched out his arms, “I’m tired, and hungry as fuck.”

“Me too,” El piped up. “Can we get hawaiian please?” She gave Max her best doe eyes.

“Ah fine,” your girlfriend muttered, walking over to the phone.

She picked it up and started to dial the number. Growing up as a teen in the 80s, it was mandatory that you all had the pizza place’s number memorized. You never knew when you might need some fuel, or a pick-me-up.

Max turned back to look at El as she held the receiver up to her ear, “But don’t get that nasty fruit stuff anywhere near me,” she threatened, twirling the cord.

“I won’t,” Eleven smiled. Everyone knew that Max hated pineapple on pizza with a passion.

Max gave the order, and you, El, and the boys pulled out some board games to keep you busy while waiting on dinner.

The seven of you set up the candyland board.

“Why are we playing this?” Lucas deadpanned.

“Cause it’s fun,” Dustin countered.

“It’s a childhood classic,” Will insisted.

“You can cheat,” Mike smirked.

“Queen Frostine is sexy,” Max shrugged.

“It’s so FUN!” El beamed.

“I dunno,” you said. “But everyone else seems to like it.”

Lucas groaned, “Fine. But I better win,” he grinned, and flipped over the first card.

“Hey,” Will complained. “You don’t get to go first! The youngest always gets to first!”

“Yeah,” you laughed. “That’s me!”

And so the party played a rather uneventful game of candyland. Dustin won.

Knock knock knock.

Everyone looked up.

“Pizzaaaaaa,” Dustin said in a whisper, rubbing his hands together.

“I’ll get it!” You offered, standing up, and letting the afghan fall away from your body.

Max smiled at you, then a double take.

“Uh...y/n, are you? Wait a minute…” she eyed you suspiciously. “Are you wearing my clothes?”

“Caught me!” You laughed, and ran off to go meet the delivery guy.

“Hey!” She hollered. “Don’t think you get away that easy!” She was smiling, shaking her head.

“Get back here y/n!”, she giggled.

You ran, laughing and out of breath, to the door. You opened it up, and smiled at the short brunette pizza guy.

“Uh, three pepperonis and one hawaiian?” He confirmed.

“Ding ding ding,” you winked at him, and set the pizzas on the table right beside the door.

“Gotcha,” you felt Max hug from behind. You turned around, and kissed her cheek. “Hang on, I’m paying this dude.”

“Oh no no,” she said, smiling. “You, you are wearing my clothes! Why?” She touched the tip of her nose to yours, scrunching her nose.

You blushed, “Cause...I want to?”

“You look good, miss girl,” she whispered.

You coughed, and turned to the pizza boy and said, “Pay you back later?” as Max started to kiss you.

“Uh, excuse me-” he was cut off by you slamming the door in his face.

You laughed into Max’s lips, “You know, Lucas really was right.”

“What?” Max asked between kisses.

“This...is gonna be the best summer ever!”

Word Count: 1,877

#max mayfield #max mayfield x reader #max mayfield x fem reader #stranger things x reader #max x reader #max mayfield one shot #max mayfield imagine #stranger things imagine #fluff #sorta fluff #stranger things #gay gals #summer of lovin #let the good times roll #it

[quirklessidiot]

Title: filthy rich [1/3] Pairing: millionare!sakusa kiyoomi x y/n [filthy capitalist au] Genre: romance, major angst ahead ,fluff, yandere!au-ish 

Synopsis: Your luck had just run out when you realized that you flirted with danger. [400 followers special]

Warnings: language and none...yet….[although i will put a trigger warning that is a controlling, abusive, and kind of a yandere relationship] Notes: 

Happy 460 followers i- look, i know i promised a long kita fanfic but i got more inspired to finish this and write this one because djjdjdjd ,,, anyways this was originally a kpop fanfic i wrote years ago and i switched it up to an omi fanfic. I don’t condone this type of relationship, if ya see this shit on your partner, please run (i beg of you)

also eheh the remaining two requests will be posted soon so uwu

next  ||  series masterlist || taglist 

“Hey Y/N.”

You look up from your medical textbook to find your aunt standing there with an expensive freshly pressed suit on her hand wrapped in plastic, you had been living with her along with her two younger kids in Tokyo after your parents decided to become humanitarian doctors. Wanting to explore and get out of your comfort zone, you ended up living in the big city along with your mother’s closest friend.

“Oh, hey obaasan.” you greeted, “What’s up?”

“Ah, you see, Shoyo is out now and no one will be able to deliver the suit to Sakusa-san, would you mind doing me a favor and delivering it for me?”

You shut your textbook and stood up from your chair, “Sure, uh- could I have his address?” you ask as you took the suit in plastic carefully from her hands, not wanting to damage something that cost as expensive as your tuition in med school. After saying goodbye to your aunt and carefully placing the suit at the back of your car, you drove your way to the upstate part of the city.

Your second hand car stood out like a sore thumb in the lane of expensive and flashy cars, you wanted to waltz in and out of here quickly. Following your aunt’s instruction’s, you march up to the front desk to hand the suit over to the receptionist, “I’m here to drop the laundry for Sakusa-sa-”

Before you could even finish your sentence, she snatched it away from your grasp. You narrow your eyes at her rather uncouth attitude, “Oh, cool...thanks…” you murmur, not wanting to cause a scene or pick a fight with the rude woman, you made a b-line towards the exit. Away from the judging and prying eyes of the people who were very much above you in terms of class and wealth.

The moment you step out though, you watch in horror as your car is being towed away, “Hey!” you exclaimed, hurriedly going to the worker who was writing something down on his clipboard, “Hey, wait! Please, excuse me?”

The worker turned to you with a questioning gaze as you immediately started to explain that you were in and out of the place and that you were just delivering some laundry but all you got was a shake in the head and the words, “It’s not up to me, that guy called us in.” He points his ballpen towards the man in a suit and paired with a surgical white mask on the phone, “...The parking here is for residents only and clearly you’re not one of them.” 

Your eyes almost widened at his explanation, just what was wrong with people who lived here?

You fumingly grab the piece of paper he hands to you and stuff it in your pocket as you march up to the stranger on the phone, “Hey, excuse me!” you proclaimed, there were a few on-lookers but you ignored them, you were seeing red with the treatment you’ve been receiving here. The raven-haired stranger ignores you, still on his phone so you call him out again and when you do, the darkest pair of obsidian eyes are on you.

You clenched your fists tightly as the quote ‘eat the rich’ comes into your head.

“There must be some mistake.” You began slowly, trying to put your anger at bay because you didn’t want the whole thing to escalate in public, “I’m in and out here, all i did was deliver and I didn't know-”

“Your ignorance doesn’t excuse you.”

“Excuse me?”

“Ignorance of the law excuses no one.” He simply states, “Also the car was on the way in my space and not even a parking spot.”

You let out a loud, sardonic laugh, “I’d be gone in two minutes if you waited.”

“You would’ve wasted my two minutes.” 

You clenched your fist tightly and as you were about to bite back on his snide remark, the receptionist from before intervenes, “Excuse me, he’s right. You aren’t allowed to park here.” she tries to look professional but you know she’s just siding with this idiot since he had the money.

“Right.” you nod, “You know what, fuck it, this blows. All I did was my job and I have to be shitted on because I don’t have money like Mr.fancy-pants over here.” You bellowed,your glare was intense as you turned around, stomping away before you would do anything you’d regret.

The stranger’s eyes towards you do not waver though, how interesting, he thought.

You never wanted to return to that place again, not only did you lose a lot of money to pay your toll fee for your car but you needed to buy a bunch of new books for the new semester. You groan out loud as you also realize that you needed to do a grocery run since all you had were empty packets of instant Ramen and water in your apartment.

Chunking the cue cards to the side, you made your way to the convenience store, the city was definitely alive tonight and amidst that, you look absolutely dead tired. Your eye bags were getting thicker, a few zits had popped out, and you had grown thin in an unhealthy way because of your food consumption.

Man, being in med school and being dumb wasn’t a very good combination.

Your thoughts are interrupted when your aunt calls you again and says you have to do deliveries tonight, “You remember Sakusa-san?” your aunt says on the other line.

You couldn’t help but grimace at the mention of the man and the memories of where he lived.

Man, did this Sakusa-san needed new neighbors.

“What does he need a suit for in this unholy hour?” You mentally groaned.

“He needs it for laundry, you can have the money when you pick it up.”

Your ears immediately perk up at the mention of cash, you decided to take public transportation since you didn’t want to risk getting your car toll away by that Sakusa guy’s wretched fancy-pants neighbor. Grocery shopping could wait another time, “Stupid rich people.” You muttered under your breath as you pushed open the entrance to find the same man who you despised, sitting there with a laundry basket next to him.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” You mumbled, sucking in a deep breath, you say, “Sakusa-san?”

“So I was right.” he says, pulling down his mask to reveal his sharp features, “You were the one who delivered my suit that day. It’s usually a young boy with a bike.”

Boy, this man was definitely at his prime, he was probably a good few years older than you and you bet he had the ladies swinging left and right with that face. Too bad he had a shitty attitude though.

“Well, that doesn’t give you an excuse to tow my car away.” you deadpan.

“How much do I owe you for the unfortunate accident then?” his tone was rich and low but you detected no remorse in it, it was as if waving huge chunks of money would help tremendously. The asshole couldn’t even properly say sorry to you because of the hard time you had to go through that time.

“None,” you scoffed, “Just hand me your laundry and pay the fee, we’ll call it even.”

The raven-haired man tilts his head and carefully hands you the laundry bag along with a wad of cash, your eyes immediately widen out of character, “Woah, wait-”

“For the troubles.” He simply replies, “Goodnight.”

You later found out that his full name was Sakusa Kiyoomi and not only was he rich, he was filthy rich. The man used to be a big volleyball player back or something when he was in high school and college but instead of becoming a pro player, he had inherited the family business.

“Huh, so he was a capitalist.” You stare at his picture at the morning paper which was coincidentally an article about him. You decided to forget about it, expecting to not see him after that night since Hinata had no classes or practices these upcoming weeks yet weirdly enough, he started to ask for you to pick up his laundry instead.

So you both fell into a strange routine, you’d pick up his laundry and return it the next day. He was also there to pick up his things and you no longer needed to talk to the rude receptionist. You were suspicious of him yet you decided to just overlook it, he gave good tips and he wasn’t as rude as the first time you met him, in fact, he made small conversations now and you sort of got to know the man.

You had a weird dynamic but strangely enough, it worked.

“L/N-san.” 

“Good evening,” You greeted per usual, holding out your hand yet his eyes squinted at the bandage on your hand.

“What happened.” the raven-haired man asked, his gaze zeroing on the wound that you got in one of your classes.

“I’m a med student...I cut myself instead of the cadaver in class.” you shrug nonchalantly as you wiggle your fingers, “It’s alright though, I’m not going to stain your suit that you keep putting back to the laundry for some odd reason.”

“You got hurt.”

“Happens to the best of us.”

Sakusa mutters something incoherent under his breath before saying, “I’ll take you to your car.”

“Woah there-”

The man ignores you as he walks ahead of you, this was certainly getting out of character, even for him who always asked for you, “Open it.” He orders as he points to the car door, you begrudgingly obliged and did as he said. He places the laundry inside and turns to you to give you his usual pay, “Take care of yourself next time, L/N-san.”

The very next day, your aunt hands you an expensive package of ointments on your doorstep. Your brows are furrowed together in confusion as she says that they’re from the millionaire himself. You pointedly look at the package in front of you, completely lost as to why someone like him would send something like this to the person who he wasn’t exactly close with.

“Y/N-saaaaan…” Hinata drowns, you snap your gaze from your notes to the young orange-haired boy, “I’ve got news!”

You had stopped working for your aunt since you found a job at your university’s library, not only were the hours more lax but they even minus some of the tuition as long as you worked there. It was definitely a win-win situation for you.

“What’s up, orange?” You asked.

“Remember Sakusa-san?”

You hum a reply, “What about him?”

“I think he likes you.”

You almost choke on your saliva when you heard that, this little brat, why you ought to-

“He looked really disappointed when I said that you didn’t work for us anymore.” Hinata explains, cutting your thoughts short, 

“Right.” You drawl, shaking your head, “Maybe you were just hard to look at, that’s why.”

“Hey!” He clenched his fists together and pouted at your tone, “I don’t even know why he likes you!”

You feel a vein pop in his forehead as you hear his insult,  you proceeded to chunk a pillow to his direction in which he successfully dodged, “Get your facts straight and I assure you, he doesn’t like me.” you grumbled, returning to your books.

Ultimately, you thought that you’d never see Sakusa Kiyoomi ever again. It was fairly obvious that outside your job, someone of high caliber as him was someone you’d never see again yet you're immediately thrown off guard when you find him standing there around your campus.

Your eyes widen in surprise, well what do you know? it was the devil himself.

“Sakusa-san.”

“L/N-san.”

Man, you may not have seen him for a month or two but despite wearing the mask, you could tell that  e still sported the same blank and basic bitch face behind it. Hinata was wrong in all ways, this guy wouldn’t like you, he’d probably deem you too low class for him, “What a surprise, it’s been a while.” You stiffly bowed down.

“You’re acting weird.” 

You raise your gaze to meet his and you could see the glint of amusement in his eyes.

“You’re most likely a guest in the university.” You mumbled, scratching your head, “People might come at me if I treated you as casually as before.”

Sakusa raises his brow, “That’s funny coming from someone who was this close to punching me during our first meeting.”

“You were being a dick that time.”

“How you have guts to say that to my face amazes me every time.”

“Oh yeah?” You chortled, amused by his statement, “I’m starting to think you’ve taken a liking on me.”

“Was it not obvious when I kept asking for you from Hinata-san?”

You immediately choke on the coffee you were sipping, burning your tongue in the process, “Okay what the hell, sakusa-san-” you said in between coughs.

Your freeze up when you look at him dead in the eye, his eyes crinkling, was he smiling behind the mask? No way, the Sakusa Kiyoomi was smiling at you? He pulls down his mask and bends down, making you retract your steps and your cheeks flush to a brightly red color, “You’re turning red.” he points out loud and that makes you turn even redder.

“You’re acting weird.”

“You were getting dense.” 

“How was I supposed to know...to know that…” You try to stutter out, completely embarrassed.

“To know what?” 

“You know what.” You grumbled, standing up a bit straighter and ignoring his teasing tone, “I’m not interested in you.”

“Your red cheeks say otherwise.”

“It’s the cold weather.” You harshly replied, looking away again, trying to avoid his gaze, “I’m not interested in a boyfriend, a flirting partner, or whatever that is. So good day!” 

You immediately stomp away, leaving Sakusa Kiyoomi with an amused smirk. How entertaining and adorable, you looked like a bunny. His cute bunny.

A few days had passed from that little interaction and you wanted to hurl yourself out the window whenever you thought about it. Sakusa Kiyoomi? The filthy rich capitalist Sakusa Kiyoomi? Interested in you? What kind of k-drama was this?

You tried to avoid going out much in the campus, Apparently he was around after he donated half a million to the medicine department.

You immediately groaned out loud at the thought, there was in no way that all this was possible!

“L/N-san.”

You immediately jump on the spot and drop your keys, “Holy fucking-” You pause, biting back your tongue, there he stood sporting a casual attire instead of a business suit and his usual face mask,  “Sakusa-san?”

“Kiyoomi.” He smoothly corrects.

“Nice. Very nice.” You dryly replied, “Heard you donated half a million and some new equipment to our department. Sweet.”

“You don’t look that happy.”

“I mean you basically confessed that you were interested then decided to donate to my department only.” You narrow your eyes suspiciously, “You remind me of a sugar daddy.”

“Well,” He shrugged, “You didn’t exactly deny that you wanted one.”

Your brain immediately short-circuits as you try to stutter out a reply, Sakusa looked like he’d been having a field day. Gone was the fiery girl he met a few months ago, he really knew what to say to reduce you to a stuttering mess.

“I’m kidding, L/N-san.” he deadpanned when he realized that you weren’t giving him a straight answer since your mind was jumbled up, “It was purely coincidental, we’ve been eyeing certain medicine departments and yours was performing top-notch. It doesn’t mean that I’m any less interested in taking you out.”

“You do know I’m poor right…” You sweatdrop, “I could easily take advantage of you-”

“One date, L/N-san…” he says, ignoring your very weak argument, “Just one then I’ll let you go.”

You don’t know why but you ended up saying yes that day.

You didn’t know what to expect on your first date and you had your fingers cross the whole time that he wouldn’t take you to an expensive michelin star restaurant since you didn’t have the clothes for the place.

Thankfully, the date was more casual than you expected, it was in his home and he had  cooked the meal himself.

“You’re looking oddly relieved.”

“I can’t function well in expensive restaurants.” You sweatdrop, covering your awkwardness with a laugh. You’ve never gone on dates before, the idea of being intimate with someone had made you feel awkward and bothered. 

“I’m not a big fan of public areas so I assure you we're not going on those anytime soon.” 

“Well aren’t you getting confident.” You raise a brow, teasing him a bit as you start to pick on the beef with your chopsticks.

“Call it a gut feeling, L/N-san.”

“Y/N.”

“What?”

“You asked me to call you Kiyoomi and well,” you turn red once again, “Well it would be awkward if you were all formal with me.”

You saw the small twinkle in his eyes, “Y/N.” your name rolls out of his tongue smoothly and you feel your heart hammering on your chest, “I like that, Y/N…” 

It was in that little moment that you realized that you liked it when he called your name.

The dinner went by without a hitch, Sakusa Kiyoomi was not the same arrogant man that the media portrayed him to be. He was quiet, understanding, and soft. Completely the opposite of the first day you met him. He urged you to talk more about yourself, saying how boring and open his life was since the media tailed him a lot.

“Why Tokyo?” 

“Why not?” You shrug, swishing the wine before taking a small sip, “It’s a great place, it’s new, and I had someone I knew here. My mom and Obaasan were good friends so I was allowed to move here on my own.”

“Are you coming back to your country if you’re done with your studies?”

You were silent for a moment, “I don’t think so. I wanna be like my parents.”

“A humanitarian doctor, huh?”

“Yeah.” You smile, “A humanitarian doctor. How about you? What’s your story?”

“Nothing interesting.” He glazed, “I’m an open book, Y/N.”

“Open book?” You tilt your head to the side, “You’re usually painted as an asshole by the media…”

“But you don’t believe it.”

“You kinda were when we first met.”

For the first time, you hear his soft chuckle and your heart starts beating fast. You liked that sound, you wanted to hear something like that again, “You always know how to amuse me, Y/N.” he shakes his head, “And for the record, just because I’m not comfortable with touches, public places and whatnot does not make me an asshole...I just am a very private person with interests…”

“What’s your interest now?”

“You.” He replied nonchalantly, making you look away..

“Stop.”

“What?”

“Stop doing that.”

“Doing what?”

“Flirting with me with a straight face like you mean it!” You choke out, turning red.

“Because I do mean it, Y/N.” He shrugs. “I am interested in you.”

It seemed like that little date you had turned out more successful than you thought, one date led to another and another. This went on for a few months until he asked you to be his partner one night at a very random place, you usually pictured Sakusa Kiyoomi to be the smooth type     you were, after all, always the stuttering mess between you two     but when he asks you to be his officially, outside the public restroom of all places with his ear tips turning red, your reduced to a heaping pile of giggles.

With men like him, you didn’t exactly expect anything more than the dates.

You should’ve known better that he was too good to be true.

general taglist for the next part is open aye

#sakusa kiyoomi x reader #sakusa kiyoomi headcanons #sakusa kiyoomi imagines #sakusa angst #sakusa kiyoomi angst #haikyuu yandere #sakusa x reader #sakusa imagines #yandere!sakusa #yandere warning!!! #haikyuu imagines #haikyu!! fanfics #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu headcanons #📝📝.Filthy rich series #hostclub.adulting

[drabbles-mc]

Okay, so I wanted to bounce off of the anon's imagine for a juice spider fic, but I also want to see the guys' react to this situation. I know that would be asking a lot, so maybe a headcanon for how the boys would react? Can you imagine Tig's cheekiness/horniness, or Happy's deadpan reaction? Hell, even Chib's would be hilarious. I leave it to you

Since we’re doing this HC for multiple characters, I figured a list might be better than multiple fics. Hope that’s alright! Also threw Opie into the mix because I love him haha. Based off of This Fic

(Also currently drafting a fic that is a different version of this for Kozik for a different request which is why I didn’t include him in this)

Reaction to finding you screaming and naked outside the bathroom because of a spider- 

Tig:

For sure bursts into the room with his gun ready to shoot someone because he doesn't think that there’s any reason someone would scream that loud except if they’re about to be murdered

When he walked into the empty room he was insanely confused, but that confusion only lasted for about three seconds when he saw you standing outside the bathroom naked, dripping water all over his floor

He doesn’t even bother to ask what happened or what’s wrong as he makes his way over to you. You can see it in his eyes that he only has one thing on his mind, and it has nothing to do with the spider on the other side of the door

You push him back, telling him that he doesn’t get to lay a finger on you until he takes care of the monster living in his bathroom.

“It’s not going anywhere, c’mon, we can be quick,” he reached out to touch your hips. But you’re firm, keeping him at arm's length, “You don’t get to touch me until that spider is dead.”

He tries to protest, to sweet-talk you into forgetting about it, but you step away from him and point at the door. You make it very clear that the vibe in his dorm isn’t going to be a sexy one until you know that the eight-legged nightmare is dead and flushed down the toilet.

He rolls his eyes with a sigh but he begrudgingly opens the door to take care of the problem. You can hear him mumbling under his breath about how he can’t believe that you would really push him away over a spider and that he couldn't believe you expected him to see you standing there like that and think about anything other than having his hands all over you.

Despite your annoyance, you had to laugh at his frustration. He made quick work of the problem and came back out, a smirk on his face. He backed you towards the bed and both of you had to laugh at the entire situation

“Y’know, I might start keeping other weird shit in there if it means I get to walk in and see this all the time,” there was a cheeky grin on his face as he thought about it.

You shook your head, “I find any more spiders in there I’ll never be naked in this dorm again. You can count on it.”

Chibs:

If he had heard the scream coming from anywhere else, he would’ve been concerned. But he knew that there couldn't possibly be anything that terrible happening inside the shoebox of a room that passed for his dorm.

He found himself chuckling when he heard you yelling his name, telling him to “get the fuck in here now.”

He walked in and found you sitting on the bed, knees pulled up to your chest. He saw the trail of wet footprints leading from the bathroom to the bed and he had a million questions he felt like he should be asking.

“Do I even wanna know, love?” he was trying not to smile and failing miserably at it. You looked at him, “Do you like company when you shower?” Confusion came across his face, “What?” You repeated yourself, “Do you like company when you shower?” He laughed, “Only if it’s you.”

You shook your head, “Really? Because you have quite the friend hanging out in there waiting for you!” He couldn't even try to pretend that he understood what you were talking about, “Ye gotta start talkin’ sense to me. What the hell--” You cut him off, “There’s a giant fucking spider in there!”

Once he realized that that’s what it was, his laughter continued. He came over and stood by the edge of the bed, pushing the dripping hair back out of your face. He didn’t want to say what he was about to, but he couldn't lie to you, “Aye. I know. Keeps all the other bugs away.”

“You know?” in that moment you contemplated leaving him. If you hadn’t been naked you would’ve stormed right out of the room and left the compound. He held his hands up in mock surrender, “I hardly ever use the shower here! We leave each other alone!”

“Go kill it. Now.” It was plain as day on his face that he was amused but also didn’t really want to do what you were asking him to. He tried to reach out and caress your face but you pulled away, “C’mon, love. That just don’t seem fair. He’s just tryin’ ta do his job.” You started daggers at him, “Filip. I swear to god--”

“No need to bring God into this,” he chuckled as he made his way over to the bathroom, “I’ll take care of it for you.” He opened the bathroom door and took his boot off so he could squash the creature causing the issue.

A few moments later you were rewarded with the sound of his boot banging against the wall. He walked back out, pulling his shoe on as he did so. He shook his head as he walked over to you, “All taken care of.”

You allowed him to drape a fresh towel around your shoulders, “If you want a pet we can get a fucking cat or something. Or a dog for the clubhouse. But no more spiders.”

Happy:

He swung the door open to the room, the same angrily neutral expression on his face that he always had. He could hear the shower still running, and it made him wonder why exactly you were standing outside the door to the bathroom. He looked back and forth between you and the doorway, waiting for you to offer something up about what was going on.

“Why’d you scream?” his voice was gruff. You pointed towards the shower, “There’s a spider in your shower!”

His brows furrowed in confusion, “So? Kill it.” Your eyes went wide as you shook your head, “I’m not gonna kill it!” He tilted his head slightly, “Just gonna stand there naked and waste all the hot water, then?”

You huffed. You loved the man but sometimes you wanted to smack him repeatedly with a rolled-up newspaper. There were downsides to being with someone with a bloodlust like his, one of them being that he would never be able to wrap his head around being afraid of something like a spider.

“Can you just go kill it for me, Hap? Please?”

He didn’t say anything else to you about it but he did go over and walk into the bathroom. He shut the shower off and after a few moments of him looking around, he lifted his foot and kicked the wall of the shower where the spider had been, a brief grunt falling from his lips as he did so.

He walked back out to you, “It’s dead now.” You had to laugh at his deadpan delivery of the statement, “Thank you.” He grabbed a towel and handed it to you, “You should get used to killing stuff. You chuckled, “Yea. I’ll get to work on that.”

Opie:

He walked in and saw you frantically waving him over. He shut the door behind him, not wanting anyone to walk by and see you. You were holding the bathroom door shut like you were trying to lock someone inside.

“Who you got in there?” it was hard for him to not find the situation at least a little comical. He reached and grabbed a shirt off the top of his dresser and handed it to you. “Not who,” you shook your head as you quickly pulled his shirt on, swimming in the fabric.

“What’s going on?” he reached for the doorknob but you beat him to it. You waited for him to look at you, “There’s a spider in there.” The confusion and concern melted away from his face as he laughed, “A spider?” You slapped his chest, “Don’t laugh! Thing has legs as long as yours.” He smiled and shook his head at you, “I doubt that.”

You hand him a shoe that had been cast aside by his dresser. He shook his head and waved you off, “I think I’ll be alright.” You stepped back as he walked into the bathroom and shut the door behind himself. There were the quiet sounds of him scuffling around on the other side of the door.

A minute later you heard the flush of the toilet and let out a sigh of relief. He opened the door and smiled at you, “All gone.” You peaked around him and did a quick scan of the room, as if to make sure he was telling you the truth.

He pulled you against him and pressed a kiss into the dripping wet hair on top of your head. You could tell by the look in his eyes that he was thinking of another smart comment to make so you quickly started pushing him back towards the door. He laughed as he allowed himself to be escorted.

“Just bring me in to do your dirty work?” You laughed as you stood on the other side of the doorway from him. You didn’t justify the comment with a response as you shut the door on him. His laughter made it’s way through the walls between you, “I love you!” he called to you. You rolled your eyes despite the fact that you couldn’t see him, “I love you too, even though you raise monsters in your shower.”

These were super fun to write!! Hope you enjoyed them. xo

#Anonymous #ask #asks #soa #sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy imagine #tig trager #chibs telford #filip telford #happy lowman #opie winston #sons of anarchy hc #soa hc #hc #drabblesmc

[imo-chan-imagines]

『 As your boyfriend | BNHA Headcanons 』

From the good, to the bad, to the downright adorable.

Characters: female!reader, Aizawa Shouta

Tags/warnings: Boku No Hero Academia (anime), 18+, explicit descriptions of sex, smut, fluff, soft dom Aizawa, relationship, headcanons

⚠️ 18+ CONTENT! MINORS: PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT ⚠️

A/N: Right, so I'm simping for this man biG TIME, but I'm only on season 3, so no spoilers or anything, please. This is my first BNHA post (and it turned out way longer than I was intending 😅) Please let me know if you want more in the future!

Also, I have a repetitive strain injury, so typing stuff is taking a while at the moment. Sorry about that. Thanks for reading! Please enjoy ♡ ~Imo

☆ Aizawa Shouta ☆

I'm not going to lie. Shouta can be a big ol' grouchy pants sometimes, and it's basically impossible to win an argument against him makes you want to tear your hair out, sometimes

But most of the time, he's just tired and in pain, and he doesn't mean to be so crotchety

He's not the type to make excuses, though. That's childish. He means his apologies, even if they're simple

He'll normally initiate an apology by gently wrapping his arms around you from behind and resting his forehead on your shoulder 🥺

Physical contact is incredibly personal and intimate for him. He doesn't just touch anyone, or allow them to touch him

You're special 💞💫

Soft, gentle touches, like his fingers interlacing with yours, or his leg brushing up against you, are basically his way of saying 'I love you'

Catch me crying in the corner, a'ight? 😔

He rarely ever raises his voice. Like, ever he doesn't need to, and is aware that it can be scary

He's definitely the kind of guy to forget to tell people that you're dating, simply because he doesn't see how it's relevant or anyone else's business 🤦‍♀️

I mean, he ain't wrong, but–

And his mood switches between 'antisocial' and 'clingy' like a mechanical metronome did someone say 'cat'?

Sometimes, you'll be lucky if he speaks more than three words to you together in a whole day nothing personal 🤷‍♀️

But on other days, he literally won't let you out of his arms for the world he's complicated, okay?

You have missed many a parcel delivery because he wouldn't let you get up from his lap to answer the door 🙄😂

Boundaries and responsibilities are key and highly respected by Shouta, and he would NEVER erase your quirk without your permission, unless he literally had no other choice like someone's going to get hurt, or something

Is generally quite serious so what's new? but you're one of the few people he can relax around when he feels like it

9/10 of his jokes are dad jokes 😎 hell yeah

Takes a hard stance in financial debates, but is constantly broke af 😶 says he'll buy you dinner and presents you with some instant noodles with a 'Reduced To Clear' sticker on them

Will take a bite of your food/steal some off your plate without asking, and literally say nothing to defend himself #gremlin

Is incredibly shy and uncomfortable about being ~le horny~ until you've been together for literally forever

Even then, he's still shy about it when he has to bring it up and it's pretty cute, let me tell ya

It took him forever to admit to you that he gets turned on when you eat ice lollies

Guess what you do whenever you want to mess with him like a little brat 😛

But if he's in the mood, he will 100% whisper something dirty in your ear, even if you're completely alone and probably well past third base

He does it because he knows your pussy will clamp around him at the sound of his voice 😳🥵

*fans self profusely*

Genuine, unadulterated smiles are rare with Aizawa, but when he does 🙌 Heaven hath opened its gates and allowed an angel walk amongst mere mortals 🥺🤧

If he lays his head on your chest, he will fall asleep like that *snaps fingers*

Surprise nose and forehead kisses to show he loves you ❤

Calls you 'Kitten' this is basically already canon at this point

And he's all about those deep talks with you at 3 am when he can't sleep

Speaking of insomnia!

It's cheesy, but you're like a soothing balm. The warmth of your body makes him feel safe, your touch helps him relax, and your voice soothes him to sleep

He's never slept as well as when you're beside him 😭🤧

When cuddling, he likes to be the big spoon but will accept being the little spoon if you if you press your boobs against his back and ask really nicely 🤭

And he loves you stroking his hair and running your fingers through it 🥺

Netlix nights and pillow/blanket forts!!

Rainy days are a godsend. Staying inside all day under the blankets, with the soft sound of the rain falling outside and no-one to interrupt you – literal paradise

He makes mean hot cocoas and Irish coffees 😋 I feel like this man lives off Irish coffees 😂🤣

Wears a lot of black and grey sweatpants at home 😗 which highlight the outline of his dick just right, if ya know what I'm sayin' 👀

Doesn't like going out for dates and prefers staying inside and doing stuff together same, honeyy

But if you really like going out, he will somewhat begrudgingly agree to it and get all dressed up for you, just so long as he gets his fair share of home-dates, too 🤗

But if you also don't like going out... the two of you will basically never leave the house, except to get groceries in your pyjamas from the 24-hour convenience store down the road at one in the morning oddly specific, I know, but you get me

And sorry, but I don't make the rules

Well, actually, I do. But shush

We all know that Shouta cleans up *chef's kiss* So when you go somewhere ~fancy~ he always looks so damn fine 😩

But he has very little idea that he's hot he sees himself as a tired, walking dumpster fire🚶‍♂️🔥

Shouta will 100% turn into a crazy cat dude with 15+ cats if you don't stop him I never said you should, though 🙃

And is a 'minimalist texter' – basically, if he can't answer a text with 'yes', 'no,' 'maybe', or 'OK', then he probably won't answer it at all 😭😂

Especially if you try and sext him or send him your nudes while he's at work. He'll probably lecture you when he gets home and depending on just how much you turned him on, he might proceed to teach you a lesson...

But wear his shirt, and just his shirt or his hoodie and he's yours

Heart eyes, motherfucker 😍

And, depending on how you two are feeling that day, you may or may not end up getting dicked down on the nearest semi-flat surface right then and there 👀

But don't misunderstand. This is an incredibly tired man you have here, and his libido actually isn't through the roof sorry, ladies so this kind of thing isn't an everyday occurrence

But when he dicks you down, he dicks you down goooood

Shouta's not big on PDA, but makes up for it in private. We're talking hands and kisses all over your body he leaves nothing unloved 😏

And while he's not big on PDA, he is big on sneaky displays of affection or 'SDA', as I like to call it

Like subtly grabbing your butt for a second, or his hand on your thigh under the table at a dinner etc. especially around other people

But what really gets him going is slowly removing your clothes and taking you fully naked, spreading your legs wide and holding them open he likes the view 😍

He lowkey highkey worships your body 🙏 and will literally not shut up about how fucking pretty you are, and how fucking good it feels inside you his words, not mine 😳

Groans and growls a little when he's getting close/cumming especially when he's being a little rough and likes to cum together, but knows it's not always practical

He tends to be a gentle dom, but can get just a teensy bit 🤏 rough if he's too into it – but nothing outrageous

We're talking rough thrusts and a brutal pace, maybe holding onto you a little too hard and, waaahh, he gets so embarrassed if he leaves bruises

Is also into a little bondage, but again, only light stuff – restraining your wrists with his hands or his tie or his Capturing Weapon 👀 maybe blinding-folding you if you're okay with it

If you're not blindfolded, then I'm afraid he's all about that eye contact

Eating out your pussy? Eye contact. Pounding you into the mattress? Blazing eye contact. Rearranging your guts in front of the mirror? Fucking eye contact

And CONSENT, BABY. THAT'S WHAT HE'S FUCKING INTO 😌🙌💞

But all jokes aside – he's too used to taking without consent with his quirk, that he's kind of paranoid about it comes to sex but it's adorable and sweet, and honestly, still kind of hot

And speaking of eating pussy – goddamn does he like to please you. Like cream to a kitty 😛

Oh, and he just loves it when you suck on his fingers as he's pounding into you 🤤

And he likes to leave love bites in personal, inconspicuous places and sometimes on your neck

He's marking his woman 😌

When he gets suuuper horny, he likes to fuck you from behind, standing upright in front of the mirror. It's a specific kink he has of watching himself stretch you out as the length of his cock disappears inside you...

I can get behind that, lemme tell yaaa

I said he tends to be dominant, but female doms – fear not!

Shouta is quite flexible when it comes down to it and is kind of lazy, lmfao so he definitely has time for laying back, having the control taken away, and having his dick ridden

For him, it's really all about communication and what you're both comfortable with

I will say this, though: sometimes, his cat watches you while you're banging 😅😂

The first time it happened, you freaked out and refused to continue because – how could you??? But eventually, you just kind of got used to it 🤷‍♀️

The same way you've got used to it following you to the bathroom every time you go to take a shit 😭

So now, you just kind of laugh about it, which helps keep things a little lighter 🤗

After sex, he does like to snuggle, but you'll be lucky if he stays awake for more than 30 seconds it's one of the few times he actually can sleep well

If you're ever out and about, or even inside, and cold, he'll wrap you up in his clothes/scarf/blanket like a sushi roll like Eren wrapping up Mikasa in his scarf, all deadpan and everything 😐

It's not that often, but when he gets drunk, he gets all soft and emotional, and starts babbling about how he can't believe he got so lucky to be dating you, and that he's sure he hasn't done anything to deserve it mah heart

He's pretty sure he wants kids, but he doesn't feel like now is the right time, and is lowkey afraid that it's never going to feel like the right time

He also constantly doubts himself, wondering if he'd actually able to look after them and protect them the way a father should class 1-A got him second-guessing himself 🥺

Besides, it's not all about him. You clearly have a say in it too, and he doesn't want to force you into anything

Again: communication and comfort zones

Dating Aizawa definitely has its ups and downs, and it's not smooth sailing, but he's prepared to work for a life with you because he's found a connection with you that he hasn't feel with anyone else

He knows that you're both far from perfect, but hopes that, for once, you might just make something good, and make it last 🥰😇

© imo-chan-imagines 2020

#imo chan imagines #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bnha #mha #aizawa shouta #headcanons #smut #aizawa shouta headcanons #aizawa shouta smut #reader x aizawa shouta #reader x aizawa shouta headcanons #reader x aizawa shouta smut #bnha headcanons #mha headcanons #bnha smut #mha smut #aizawa shouta x reader #aizawa shouta x reader headcanons #aizawa shouta x reader smut #aizawa shouta x you #you x aizawa shouta

[mediocrevideopodcast]

Happy Valentines Day!

Request: Hey since tomorrow is Valentine’s Day, think we can have a Rottmnt special? Like crush made them homemade chocolate and shyly gives it to them? ✨✨ pretty please! 🙏

Pairing: All, Non-Poly. (Raphael, Leonardo, Donatello, Michelangelo, & April O’Neil.) 

Content Warnings: None! Except for swearing?? I don’t know if people still tag for swears or not </3 

Word Count: 1658

You thank the universe that nobody could hear your heartbeat, for if they could, the world would surely fall apart at the intensity of its beats. Your face burns hot, and your body shakes with each step you take. You pray to every deity you can think of that you don’t drop the chocolate you stayed up all night making. Pan after pan and recipe after recipe lead you to this moment, finally finding the perfect concoction. That’s what you tell yourself, at least. No, it is perfect! Right? Fuck, what’s the backup plan if he doesn’t like it? Should you scrap it? Should you have brought some for everyone? You’re so lost in your thought, you hardly recognize your surroundings as you step into the lair. An enthusiastic “hey!” from your friends seals your fate: there’s no turning back now. No second-guessing.

You’re gonna give it to them. 

Raphael:

He’s so excited!! Chocolate? For him? From his crush?

He actually has to ask if you’re serious first, he can’t help it. Like really? Ethereal you made him homemade chocolate? He has to be dreaming.

“Are you sure you’re not confusing me for someone else? Not that I’m saying I don’t want it! Wait hold on, this isn’t coming out right-”

Raph what other giant, anthropomorphic snapping turtles do we know???

He smiles so big when you manage to stammer out that yes, this is for him, and he cradles the package so gently too. He’s such a sweetheart.

He actually made you something too!

He puts the box down gently before going to his room to grab it.

It’s a small handmade card with a little bouquet of wildflowers! (White trillium and starflower to be exact. He thought they were really pretty.) The bouquet is tied loosely with a red ribbon, pulled gently into a bow.

He was so nervous about giving it to you, that he actually wasn’t planning to at all! He’s had everything planned for weeks, but his anxiety kept getting the better of him. But getting something from you was exactly the kind of encouragement he needed to take that final leap.

He’s so flustered when he hands it over, and the way his hands shake makes you feel a little less shy. Maybe he does feel the same way?

Two shy dorks in love <3

Leonardo:

Yoo, for real? For him? Hell yeah, thank you!

He’s really confident on the outside. Like, he’s so excited and accepting about it it’s unreal. All of your anxieties melt away, as they tend to do around him, and you can’t even remember why you were so stressed in the first place! It’s Leo, after all.

He’s dying (in a good way) on the inside though. He’s just internally screaming. Holy shit his crush is giving him chocolate? And it’s homemade? Oh my god look at that tiny white chocolate drizzle, that’s so cute!! Is that a strawberry?? MANY thoughts, head FULL, and in LOVE.

(He’s gonna hardcore brag about it to his brothers later.)

His heart is pounding out of his chest, although he doesn’t divulge that information.

He asks you out right then and there. Like!!!

He doesn’t actually say the word “date,” but god. You’re suddenly all shy again, and you can’t do anything but nod furiously.

The date is super casual, (yes its at Hueso’s. He begs him to pull out all of the stops, and he does so, even if only to shut up Leo. Actual king <3)  and it really puts you at ease. At some point he moves to hold your hand, and you can’t help the way your heart leaps into your throat. And he'd be lying if he didn’t feel the same way.

His confession is so eloquent, and yet… dorky. Sweet. Like he’s rehearsed it a million times, trying to find the best possible words to win your heart. Little did he know, he’s always had it.

Donatello:

oh no

He didn’t plan for this. Like, this was literally the one thing he didn’t plan for.

(He has confidence issues, give him a break!! How could he have known that you were going to give him something too? And give it first as well?? Which sets a precedent for the gift he gives?? Social interactions are Awful and he’s in Hell.)

He’s still pleasantly surprised though!

He kind of short-circuits for a moment, and he’s completely deadpan for at least three seconds. It’s the worst couple seconds of your life. Then he comes back to reality and thanks you super genuinely.

(It’s hard to read him at the best of times, and this is. So much. He just doesn’t know what to do with himself!!!)

He takes his time looking at every detail on the chocolates, and your anxiety dies down as you see the softest smile grace his features. It’s so genuine, and you don’t even think he knows he is smiling, so it’s really reassuring.

You take the time to really study his features, and fuck, he’s really pretty. You’re both flustered when you guys come back to reality.

He made you a gift too!! In fact, he has a whole day planned out.

It’s a long and fun day of running around the Hidden City, and at night, in New York.

It’s incredible.

He’s confident, and he says all the right things. He’s had this night planned out for weeks, and fuck if it doesn’t shine through.

At the end of the night, he gives you his gift with averted eyes. It’s a strange contrast to the pure exciting, confident persona he’s been putting on all day.

It’s handmade, and tailored to your exact interests and equipped with his own, Donatello-Style flair.

He’s confident in his tech, and he knows you like the back of his hand, but this is… completely new territory.

Valentine’s Day has never been so perfect.

Michelangelo

He did the same thing, actually!!! So this is actually so perfect for him!!

He spent all night making the perfect chocolates. Most of them are filled, and those that aren’t have some unique, artistic drizzle adorning them. If you hadn’t known better, you would have thought he got them from a fancy chocolate place.

He genuinely can’t contain his excitement when you hand him the box all shyly. His eyes light up with the brightness of a dying star going supernova.

He immediately hugs you, careful not to crush the chocolates, and then his mouth is moving at a mile a minute. It’s almost hard to keep up!! He’s just so happy and excited, and he’s running to the kitchen and he has a box too??? Hello, what’s going on??

He’s trying so hard to not just blurt out a confession here and now.

It’s completely impromptu, but he suggests going out on the town. He didn’t plan it, he was honestly just planning to stay in and watch some movies with you, but now that you’ve brought him a Valentine’s Day gift too? That means you like him too right, maybe?

If he’s gonna confess to you, it’s sure as hell not gonna be in a sewer. (Even if it is his home. It just ain’t right, man!)

It’s really fun! You feel so at home with him, and there’s no pressure at all.

Everything just seems to fall into place around him. He’s your home. Unbeknownst to you, he feels the exact same way.

He confesses by the end of the night. It’s so sweet and sincere, but there isn’t a single moment of hesitation. He’s so head over heels for you, and that love shows itself in every movement and word.

April

She’s never been given chocolates before!! She’s always looked on in envy through middle school, highschool, at work, etc. So fuck, if she’s not immediately swarmed with emotion. She’s like, two seconds away from crying. I love her so much…

It’s actually really funny, because she ordered a really nice bouquet of ivory & pink flowers from her local flower shop for you, but they hadn’t arrived yet! She’s super upfront with it, and it gets a good laugh out of both of you. The classic April O’Neil luck, ey?

It definitely lightens the mood, and she suggests going out to a local restaurant to get lunch, and then maybe go sightseeing! Or maybe just goof around in the Hidden City? No pressure!

It’s super fun! You never want the night to end, to be quite honest.

You get to choose the music while you guys drive around, and you end up picking the silliest stuff. You guys laugh and belt out the lyrics to every song.

The food at the restaurant is perfect, and everything goes off without a hitch. At some point she reaches across the table to interlock fingers with you, and you’re suddenly alight with so much love and recognition that this is an official date, and your best friend - your crush - is holding hands with you, and her hand is so soft and warm and… you’re so in love. And unbeknownst to you, she’s feeling the exact same strain of emotion.

At the end of the night she takes you to a rainy spot in the Hidden City, and you guys dance and sing in the rain.

Everything feels so natural and perfect with her. She’s your safe space, your home, your world.

You can barely stand to part at the end of the night.

When you do get back to your home, you find her gift at your front door. It’s a beautiful bouquet of white Gardenias, pink Carnations, pink Peonies, and… a white Lily. They stand perfectly in a vase, apparently left at your doorstep by the delivery driver. You place them on your kitchen counter as soon as you can, and text her immediately.

You love her with all your heart, and she’s head over heels for you, too.

#rottmnt x reader #rottmnt imagine #tmnt donatello x reader #tmnt leonardo x reader #tmnt raphael x reader #tmnt michelangelo x reader #tmnt april x reader #april o'neil x reader #rottmnt mikey x reader #rottmnt leo x reader #rottmnt raphael x reader #rottmnt Donatello x reader #rottmnt donnie x reader #donatello hamato x reader #leonardo hamato x reader #rottmnt leonardo x reader #tmnt imagine #tmnt x reader

[weeb-writor]

Waiting For Him

Hello! Welcome to another story that was floating around my head. This one is Bakugo x Reader and is about Bakugou missing the birth of his kid. All characters are 18+ in this fic. I didn't specify if reader was the one giving birth or, if it was an adoption, or a surrogate. Reader is neutral as usual, hope you all enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

Bakugou misses the birth of your kid and your moms pissed.

Words:  1252

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Ground Zero, sir, I hate to say this again but someone is at the office for you.” One of the hero’s sidekicks said again as they fought the pack of villains.

“What the fuck is up with your ears today? What do you want me to do? Let the villains get away, you damn idiot. Focus ‘cause you're getting sloppy and don't say shit about this person again.” The angry blonde shouted back. The sidekick listened regretfully, they couldn't get over the feeling that this was important.

The fight dragged on for an hour more, it wasn't that it was a hard battle. In truth the villains were laughably weak but they kept taking the hostages and using them as human shields. However, they were finally done, the villains in handcuffs on their way to court.

“Now, you damn irritation, what was it you were talking about?” Bakugou said as he downed a whole bottle of water.

“Someone is demanding to see you at the office, sir.” The sidekick rushed out.

“You thought it was a good idea to pull our focus from a fight for some damn pushy fan? Your on paper work tonight, i'll call kiri and sort things out. You go get started on that work if you want to get home on time.”

“Ugh, ok sir.” Bakugou resisted the urge to yell at the exaggerated sigh and pulled out his phone and dialed the red head. It didn't ring for long at all, Bakugou was shocked when a very panicked kiri picked up the phone.

“Man, why’d it take you so long to call!!” His friend shouted.

“Wha’ddyah want me to do, ask the damn villain to pause robbing the stores ‘cause I needed to make a call, shitty hair.” He roared back.

“No but maybe you could have dropped your pride and called for backup.” The redhead blew back at him.

“Had nothing to do with my pride, whatever tch, what is it?” He spoke somewhat softly to his friend.

“Your baby was just born!! You freaking missed it and Y/N’s mom is here mad as hell.” Kirishima said with his teeth gritted. The blonde went silent at that. Damn it he knew the due date was any day now but it just slipped his mind in the heat of the battle.

“Kiri could you um.. drive her to the hospital? I’ve got to go, like now.”

“Uh huh, you’d better hope y/n’s mom doesn’t kick your ass.” Kiri put in his last word before hanging up. Bakugou wasted no time hailing a cab and shouting the address at the poor driver. You were there alone for what you could say was the greatest moment of your lives. Bakugou didn’t promise much but he promised he would be there every step of the way but here he was missing the FIRST step.

“Um sir we arrived.”

“God finally, thank you.” The angry Pomeranian spoke as he rushed out the car and into the hospital.

“I’m here for Bakugou y/n they are probably in labor and delivery.” He rushed out.

“Yeah, we've been expecting you sir, just follow the fish on the wall down that hallway and then take the stairs on the left and that penthouse room is where you’ll find them.” The receptionist said clearly but Katsuki could swear she spoke gibberish cause as he followed the directions he was lost. Should he even go into the room. He let you down, a moment where you both needed and wanted him, he wasn’t there. What’s worse is he knew you weren’t angry. You were selfless and always made sure he knew that you understood the circumstances of his jobs. When he was late, when he couldn’t show, or when he came creeping in at 3 am. You never blew up or were pouty. This time would be no different, you would both carry on like he hadn't missed the birth of his kid and he would feel like he wasn’t enough. This feeling dragged on, even as he stood in front of the room. Hearing a baby’s cry, his baby’s cry, didn’t make the feeling any better either.

“SUKI! How long are you gonna stay out there! We’ve got a crying baby in here.” Your voice called to him. It still wasn't enough to spur him into action. He almost turned around when a hand grasp his shoulder from behind. He looked to see your mom smiling at him.

“They aren't mad, y’know. They were just patiently waiting on you with a smile. I ran off to get you cause I was pissed but that's beside the point. You’ve got a kid and the love of your life waiting for you, how long are you gonna stutter and make them wait.” She said as she opened the door to the room.

“Yeah Yeah, you nag, I was just...Thanks.” He muttered as he went to your side. You were sitting in a rocking chair with a small bundle, which was wailing uncontrollably.

“Suki, meet our son.” You said to the man who now had tears in his eyes.

“We've got a little baby boy…” He dropped to his knees just staring at the two of you.

“Yeah, I was thinking we name him Hiroyuki, it means lots of happiness. I don't know about you but I'm feeling ‘lots of happiness’ right now.” You said still rocking the crying baby.

“I was thinking more like king or Tatsuo, which means manly dragon but I am feeling a little happy right now, so Hiroyuki it is.” He said back, wiping his tears.

“Beautiful but can you guys please make him be quiet, I'm sure the whole floor doesn't want to hear his strong set of pipes.” Your mom said.

“I've tried everything mom. He isn't hungry, his diaper is clean, and he is getting attention. I'm not sure what's wrong.”

“Well your parents now, this is your first test, figure it out. I'm going to get a coffee.” She said waving to ya'll.

“Um give him to me…” Katsuki said quietly. You smiled and placed the wiggling bundle into his arms.

“Hey brat, stop causing trouble for us already. You're a bakugou, save your tears for when there's really something to cry about.” He spoke harshly yet gently to the boy. To no one's surprise the boy's tears slowly came to a stop. Then for the first time his eyes peered open and a small intoxicated looking smile graced his face.

“He’s got your dumb little smile.” You laughed at him, he didn't even say anything or glare your way. You stood up and went behind Katsuki just staring down at your little boy, who was now drifting to sleep.

“Were you waiting on daddy too, little Hiroyuki? We can wait together from now on so you don't have to cry.” You said hugging your husband.

“I promise not to make you wait too long.” He said to the boy who was clutching his finger.

“Not to interrupt this beautiful moment but me and Mina are definitely the god parents, right?! Oh and I brought little Hiro some stuff too!! I tried to not get too much stuff but I've got to be the best and most manly uncle!!” Kiri said a little too loudly, shocking Hiroyuki back awake. You and husband both deadpanned as the little baby’s loud cry filled the room once again,

“Sorry…” The redhead said rubbing the back of his head

#bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #kirishima #mha x reader #bnha x y/n #bakugou x you #poc writers #mha imagines #domestic fluff

[there-must-be-a-lock]

Not That Kind of Movie

Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers

Summary: “They plan a romantic getaway but everything goes sideways and they end up in a dive motel eating cheap pizza but the water is hot and the mattress isn't the worst and...” (prompt courtesy of @fangirlxwritesx67​) 

Word Count: 2590

Warnings: Steve feels sorry for himself, Bucky gets sassy, and innuendo abounds, but there’s nothing particularly explicit happening. Zero adherence to any sort of canon timeline. It’s fluffy as hell. 

A/N: Blame @katwillrise​, who encouraged this nonsense and has been keeping me company in the Stucky hole. Please help us. We cannot get out. Major thanks to @itmighthavebeenintentional​, who a) reassured me that this was worth posting and b) came up with the whole pizza thing and let me write it because she is amazing. 

“I think—” Bucky starts, but he (wisely) stops when Steve lets out a wordless rage-grunt. 

“I got it,” Steve snaps, and seriously considers kicking the motel door in. 

He gets five more beeping red lights before Bucky points out that he’s trying to open the wrong door. 

Bucky opens the right door on the first try and ushers him through. He hasn’t said “I told you so,” but he is radiating it from every smug pore. He’s been pointedly not saying “I told you so” all damn day, about every damn thing. 

“Maybe Mercury’s in retrograde,” Steve mumbles, rubbing the bridge of his nose as he sets his bag down on the desk. Then he realizes what he just said and feels himself flush brick-red. 

Steve knows, without turning around, that Bucky is smirking. He can picture it way too clearly. Most people have trouble reading Bucky’s brand of deadpan, these days, but he has an array of specific smirks, and they’re all subtly different if you know what you’re looking for. This one, barely-quirked lips and sparkly laughing eyes, translates to you’re an idiot but you’re my idiot. It’s just a hair meaner than the you’re an idiot but I love you variant and its close cousin, I fucking love you, you idiot. Steve knows it well. 

This particular smirk has had the same effect on Steve for about a century now: he gets a brief, overwhelming urge to punch Bucky, followed by an equally overwhelming urge to kiss him senseless. 

It’s irritating. And after a day’s worth of wildly unfortunate events that could, technically, be described as “Steve’s fault,” he is already irritated enough. He pointedly keeps his back turned and tries some breathing exercises. 

“That’s really what you’re going with?” Bucky says, dry and amused. “We’re blaming this on planets?” 

Steve sighs. “Clint taught me about astrology last time he got drunk.” 

“You do know he’s fucking with you, right?” 

“Of course I do,” Steve says, hoping he sounds disdainful. “I’m going to shower off the dried alien goop now.” He makes a dignified retreat to the shower while Bucky laughs. 

They were supposed to be at a luxury mountain cabin with a hot tub. Instead, the first day of their anniversary trip has been one long series of unmitigated catastrophes, because somehow, Steve’s tactical skills — which have defeated actual evil Nazi masterminds — do not extend to dates. Or romance in general, really. 

Steve has realized, in the last year, that while he is a goddamn national hero and literal superhuman, he is a disaster of a boyfriend. And yeah, sure, “boyfriend” doesn’t seem like the right word, exactly, for everything they are, but they’ve officially been together for a year now, and Steve got it into his head to make an effort. 

So, yeah. Catastrophes. And now he’s trying to scrub off dried alien goop in a sputtering coffin-sized shower that was clearly not built with super soldier proportions in mind. 

The hot water lasts just long enough for Steve to deem himself clean enough, for certain values of enough, but it doesn’t do much for his mood, which is the sort of sulk that really requires a hot tub. He just wanted to plan something nice, for once. Romantic. He’s always so busy running around being Captain goddamn America that romance usually takes a backseat — admittedly, aliens take the front seat in this metaphor, which is fair, but the point stands. 

Bucky is sprawled out on the plasticky motel duvet. He changed into flannel pajama pants and a worn henley, and he is temporarily retired from combat and other violent activities his therapist has deemed unwise, so he isn’t covered in alien goop; in fact, he looks comfortable and somehow totally content. After this kind of day, it doesn’t seem fair that someone should be that kind of attractive. 

Bucky stops channel-surfing to give Steve and his very small towel a flirtatious once-over. 

“Can you just get it over with?” Steve sighs, looking up at the ugly water-stained ceiling in supplication. 

“Hell no. I want to hear you say it.” 

“You were right. About taking the time to shower, and bringing our phones, and checking the radiator a week ago, and… all of it. Happy now? Stop laughing at me, I swear to god, I will — oof.” 

Steve doesn’t bother to resist, because the way his luck is going, that’d end in broken bones. He winds up on his back, towel-less, with Bucky on top of him, but his weight and his heat and his smile are doing a lot for Steve’s mood. 

Then Bucky grins and says, “Told you so, punk.” 

Steve scoffs and scowls and rolls them over — more out of principle than any actual desire to fight back — and Bucky lets himself be pinned. The smirk is back, and this time Steve gives in to the urge to kiss him senseless. 

By the time he pulls away, Bucky’s mouth is red and his eyes are heavy-lidded, and he’s giving Steve a slow blink and a lazy curl of a smile. It’s just as effective now as it used to be on every girl in Brooklyn. 

“You should put on pants,” he says, but the husky tone of his voice is saying the exact opposite, and it takes a second for the words to register. 

“Huh?” 

“Pizza should be here in five minutes. We’re not in that kinda movie.” 

That surprises an actual huff of a laugh from Steve. He slides away and digs around for his sweatpants while Bucky gives a low whistle and ogles shamelessly. 

By the time he settles back on the bed, he’s feeling a little sheepish and he’s ready to apologize. Bucky’s got one eyebrow raised ever so slightly, just waiting — the laugh helped, and he knew it would, and now he knows exactly what’s coming. Damn him. 

“Sorry,” Steve sighs. “About everything. This is not what I had in mind.” 

“Not sure what you mean,” Bucky says glibly. “I can think of worse ways to spend a Friday night.” He wriggles closer, pressing their hips together and giving Steve’s ass a friendly grope. 

“Seriously. I’m sorry, this was —” 

“When’d you turn into such a princess, huh?” Bucky asks, soft and fond even if the words are teasing. 

“Excuse you? I’m not the one with an entire duffel’s worth of hair products.” 

“What I mean—” He punctuates the word with a kiss that’s all teeth and promise. “—is that I’ve seen you grin and bear it through some serious shit, Rogers. You didn’t even get this bitchy when we were trekking around the goddamn Western Front. So what’s with the whining?” 

Steve doesn’t know where to start. For a second he just looks. 

Bucky’s made up of dramatic angles and distinctive shadows, jawline and cheekbones set in a way that Steve’s been trying to capture on paper for as long as he can remember, but up close like this, the sharp delicate lines seem blurred and smoothed-over; all Steve can see is the softness of his mouth and the gentle swoop of his eyelashes. Everything else falls out of focus. 

Christ, he’s gone for this jerk. 

And that’s the problem, really, because of all the things in his extraordinarily strange life, Bucky has always been the most extraordinary, a living breathing wise-cracking miracle even before they both became world-famous scientific anomalies. He deserves fireworks and epic poems and goddamn parades, and instead — well. This is the sort of motel where you don’t look too closely at the stains on the carpet. 

Steve’s spent the better part of a century pining for the guy. You’d think he could manage one romantic weekend getaway. 

“Stop that,” Bucky interrupts, before he can spiral any further. “Jesus, stop with the big tragic eyes already. Just shut up and kiss me.” 

Steve would protest, but there’s a tongue in his mouth and a hand in his hair, tugging sharp enough to make his hips twitch forward and his rational mind switch off completely. There’s kiss after syrupy-slow, brain-liquefying kiss, and for a moment Steve lets himself get lost in it.

Then they’re interrupted by a knock on the door, and he’s so startled he jerks back and rolls off the bed into a crouch, instincts kicking in before he remembers: pizza. Right. 

Bucky is laughing — cackling, more like. 

“Wallet’s on the desk,” he says, and stretches extravagantly, unbothered, while Steve fumbles for some money and goes to open the door. 

“Your total is—” The guy stops, blinking rapidly up at Steve. “You’re…” 

Steve remembers abruptly that he’s shirtless and half-hard, with some major bed head and kiss-swollen lips. 

“Sorry, I’m not — this isn’t —” he blurts out. “Um.” 

Too late. The guy is already glancing behind him; Steve looks back just in time to catch Bucky’s outrageous wink and sly grin from where he’s lounging on his side like a goddamn pinup. 

The delivery guy looks up at Steve again, grinning, and says, “Nice. Get it, Cap.” 

“I — what? No!” Steve squawks. “Not what it looks like!” 

“Totally what it looks like,” Bucky calls cheerfully. 

Steve shoves too much money at the guy. “Keep the change. Thank you!” 

He manages to snatch the boxes and slam the door before this can get any more mortifying, and then he sags back against the doorframe and puts a hand over his eyes for a second. 

“What happened to not that kind of movie?” he sighs, cheeks burning, before collecting himself and making a mental note to warn Pepper about another impending PR crisis. 

They sit on the floor, side by side, leaning back against the mattress. Steve checks the top box and hands it to Bucky at the sight of pineapple. 

“That’s yours. Heathen.” 

Bucky shrugs, unrepentant, and shoves half a slice of his pineapple abomination into his mouth in one bite. Steve does the same with his perfectly respectable mushroom and sausage piece, and for a few minutes they both just shovel food into their mouths. Steve didn’t realize how hungry he was, but… yeah. 

Maybe blood sugar has been a factor in his mood. Huh. 

“How’sit?” 

“It’s pizza. It’s hot and cheesy, it’s not like it could be bad.” 

“Hot and cheesy, huh? Just like one of my other favorite things.” 

Steve lets out a long suffering sigh, but it’s hard to be grouchy after demolishing half a pizza. 

“You know that guy is gonna tell everyone he’s ever met, right?”

“They won’t believe him.” Bucky counters. “Hey, did you know there’s Captain America porn?” 

Steve almost chokes. “Excuse me?”

“There’s a porn parody of everything these days. The guy’s not a bad lookalike, at least in the face area. The dick area—” 

“Bucky.” 

“I gave them that guy’s name when I paid for the room and ordered the food.” 

Steve actually chokes this time. Then he laughs until his stomach hurts. 

He can’t stop until he’s breathless and red-faced, wheezing like he still has asthma. He wipes away tears while Bucky sits there and looks quietly pleased with himself. 

When the giggles subside he leans over and plants a greasy kiss on the corner of Bucky’s smile. Bucky chases his mouth and nips his lower lip, and for a minute they sit just like that, twisting at an awkward angle to exchange slow scattered kisses. 

With hunger out of the way, Steve’s top priority is getting Bucky horizontal again, so he shoves the pizza boxes out of the way and tugs-lifts-tackles him onto the bed. 

“Feeling better, I take it,” Bucky says, grinning. “Seriously, everything okay?” 

“Sorry,” Steve says sheepishly. “I just — I don’t know. I wanted this weekend to be perfect.” 

Bucky’s expression clears, suddenly. “God, you’re such a romantic.” 

“I mean, it would’ve been romantic, if everything had gone according to plan.”  

“You know I’ll say yes even if it’s not perfect, right?” 

All Steve can do is sputter for a solid minute. “You — how did you — how did you figure it out?”

Bucky raises one snarky eyebrow, thumbs stroking Steve’s shoulderblades before he surges up for a quick kiss. Then his lips twitch as he tries to hold back a chuckle. 

“You didn’t buy a ring, did you? ‘Cause I hate to break it to you, but… that might be problematic.” He pokes Steve in the side with one metal finger. 

“No! I just — I wanted it to be special!”

Bucky rolls his eyes in a way that somehow conveys an entire lifetime of mingled exasperation and affection. 

“Pal, I’m part robot and you’re Captain America. Doesn’t get much more special than that.” 

“I had a whole speech!” 

“Now there’s something you don’t see often: Captain America making a speech.” 

“Wow.” 

“No, I’m sure it was a good one. Lemme guess, the words ‘til the end of the line’ were involved. Am I right?”  

“Wow.”

He’s laughing too hard for it to be considered a real kiss, but he can’t help it. 

Steve’s about to pull away when Bucky wraps both arms around him and kisses back, and suddenly there’s nothing playful about it; it’s startlingly slow and deep and urgent, with a hitched inhale and an exhale that comes out shaky. 

Steve can’t quite catch his breath either. 

“You really thought you had to ask?” Bucky whispers. Neither of them pull away; their noses brush, and they’re breathing the same warm close air. 

“Told you, I wanted it to be special. You deserve that.” He expects a sarcastic retort, but Bucky’s serious and silent. “Sometimes I worry… I’ll let you down. After all this time — I don’t want you to get bored. Don’t want you to think I take you for granted.” 

“Honestly? The boring stuff is my favorite.” 

“You don’t have to say that just to make me feel better, Buck.” 

“After everything that’s happened —” His voice has gone rough, and he pauses to lick his lips and take a breath. “Boredom still feels like a luxury. Getting to muddle through the everyday shit together… I love it. Even when you’re being a goddamn diva.” 

Steve lets out a wobbly chuckle. “Jerk.” 

“We both shoulda died a few times over by now. You know? It all feels special. I’m never gonna get over that.”  Bucky bites his lip, and his expression is wide-open and vulnerable, no trace of the usual laughter in his eyes. “So if you want a piece of paper making it official, that’s fine by me. But as far as I’m concerned… it was a done deal a long time ago.” 

“Yeah,” Steve manages. “Yeah, okay.” 

Then it’s bruising lips and feverish heat, a simmering need that’s so perfect and dizzying that for a few minutes, Steve forgets about the questionable duvet and the sticky wallpaper and absolutely everything else. 

They could be anywhere: crappy motel room, Brooklyn tenement, mountain cabin, Army base — Steve’s never been able to focus on their surroundings or anything else for that matter, not when Bucky’s around. This kind of love’s not just blind, it’s blinding. 

“You can go through the whole thing anyway, if it makes you feel better,” Bucky interrupts.

“Huh?” 

“I know you need to deliver an inspiring speech at least once a week or you get all backed up.” 

“I’m starting to think I should take it all back.”

“No, really. I’m sure it would’ve been very eloquent.” 

“Shut up and get your clothes off already.” 

“Is that an order, Captain?” 

“Yes.” 

“See? Who needs romance when — oh. Oh, hey, do that again.” 

.

.

.

#stucky #stucky fic #mcu #mcu fic #bucky barnes fic #steve rogers fic

[agent-cupcake]

Can I ask your opinion? So, I feel like everyone into 3H is in love with Dimitri, but I can't connect with him. I don't dislike him, but I feel like there isn't much to his personality without all his various mental health issues. It's hard to get a feel on what he's really like, so I end up just seeing him as a walking ball of trauma and not a three-dimensional character. Do you have any thoughts on Dimitri himself and how to separate him as a person from his psychological issues? Thanks!

Hmm, I guess my first thought is that everyone resonates with characters differently and so if you don’t particularly feel connected to him, that’s not wrong. Fictional parasocial relationships are very similar to real-life relationships, so it follows that nobody is going to like every character. I can’t say that a portion of my love for his character doesn’t come from his mental issues because that’s something I personally relate to and feel drawn to in others. That’s just who I am and how I build relationships. There is also something to be said for the unavoidable way mental illness informs a person’s behavior and character, it’s as much an aspect of them as being born with blond hair or losing an eye.

That said, I will do my best to explain why I think Dimitri is wonderful. Not in spite of his mental illness, but because I don’t think that’s all he is.

So, Dimitri is, as he says, a very clumsy person. This unfortunately extends to his social skills. He has a lot of very socially awkward tendencies and a general lack of self-awareness. This contrasts with his innate desire to please people, or at least avoid upsetting anyone. The thing is, Dimitri doesn’t always completely understand what upsets people or how exactly they might feel. His childhood isolation left him rather emotionally unaware and desperate for the acceptance and approval of others. That’s not to say he doesn’t try to understand other people’s feelings, but it’s not an intuitive process. He has a habit of saying kind of dumb or uncomfortable things out of nowhere, which is most likely his real feelings coming out in rather inept ways. He means well, but he’s just so dang clumsy.

The desperation to be included and validated I mentioned, I think, can be seen in the way he tries so hard to make the other Blue Lions see him as a peer and equal all the while keeping himself rather closed off from them. Dimitri approaches conversations as a means of focusing on the other person, trying to make an appeal to them rather than as an interaction where both parties could be seen as vulnerable. Of course, just like most other socially awkward introverts, he opens up when he feels closer to the person, but that takes a while. Gotta unlock the supports, you know? Although it’s not necessarily obvious, his incredibly stiff behavior (especially pre-timeskip) and the way he switches between overly formal and awkwardly friendly in his interactions with people as he tries to figure out how to socially and emotionally navigate relationships really gives me the impression of someone trying desperately to fit in without even the faintest clue of how to actually manage that. He also does his best to avoid social situations, which, mood. Basically, Dimitri’s a big dumb massive introvert trying to act like he’s not.

FURTHERMORE, he is a dork. An absolute goof of a person. Dimitri canonically thinks so-bad-its-good puns and jokes are hilarious. His own style of telling jokes is saying things that may or may not have contextual humor in a normal voice and then claiming after the fact that he intended it as such. Now, his supports with Alois are absolute factual proof of the so-bad-its-good humor, but might I also direct your attention to the scene before the battle against Miklan in Conand Tower (the event name is “Tower in a Storm (Blue Lions)”). Basically, Gilbert is explaining the history behind Conand Tower and Dimitri says, in an incredibly earnest voice, “You’re very well informed, Gilbert. Please, tell us more.” This is a joke. Supposed to be, at least. The delivery is somewhat emphasized, but not in a recognizably sarcastic way. Gilbert, who knew Dimitri very well when he was young, realizes it’s a joke after a second. But there are other things Dimitri says that I believe are his bad “jokes” and since nobody knows him well enough to tell, they don’t call him on it. There’s no proof, but his line in the Lord’s intro where he says, “And here I thought you were acting as a decoy for the sake of us all.” to Claude has to be an attempt at sarcasm. Dimitri is oblivious, but not stupid. In his Goddess Tower conversation with Byleth, when discussing the topic of wishes, he says, “Perhaps it would make more sense for me to wish that we’ll be together forever. What do you think?” In a completely normal voice. Following are two speech bubbles of “...” before he laughs and proclaims that it’s just a joke and that he’s getting better at telling them. Now, this is a two-parter because I see this as both his horribly awkward tendency to say things he feels without thinking too hard beforehand as well as his silly deadpan style of “jokes”. Granted, he does apologize. Dimitri’s got socially awkward zoomer humor. It’s endearing.

Here is a video of Dimitri hitting on Byleth pre-timeskip. I’m not sure how far it goes to endear someone to him, but the mostly awkward and occasionally smooth attempts of Dimitri’s flirtations are absolutely a highlight of his character. 

Now, this isn’t quite as cute as all that, but I think character arc and change do a lot for making a character feel more three-dimensional. Dimitri is hypocritically selfish. Although those are both negative terms, I don’t necessarily mean them as such, at least not in their totality. Both are things to overcome, which he does. And that’s why I feel like they’re a valid point of discussion when trying to explain the allure of his character.

The hypocritical part comes from the way he easily allows and forgives the flaws of others while constantly castigating himself for the same reasons. He says things that show an absurd amount of a lack of self-awareness. For example, he tells Edelgard, “Hm. You will prove a lacking ruler yourself if you look for deceit behind every word and fail to trust those whom you rely on.” All the while straight-up lying to and emotionally avoiding his friends. Dimitri also tells Marianne, when she is punishing herself for putting other people at risk, “What matters is that they came back safely in the end. You shouldn’t blame yourself for that.” Really, his C and B with Marianne is an exercise in hypocrisy. The standards Dimitri has for himself are incredibly, unattainably high. He’s setting himself up for failure in that way and, to an extent, knows what he’s doing because he knows that those same standards are too much for his friends and allies to meet. He wishes to take on everything himself. But, what I find so beautiful about this, is that Dimitri eventually realizes that he can’t do that. He is not strong enough to take on the weight of the world on himself, he comes to understand that it’s something he must allow himself to share with the people who care about him. He comes to realize that, as difficult as it is to accept, he is a weak person. Despite all of his introversion and inability to emotionally open up, he figures out that having a support system and allowing yourself to rely on people who love you is a necessity. Personally, I think this message is incredibly important in real life. Watching Dimitri come to that conclusion and argue it’s importance really rounded out his arc and journey as a person. Now, the relatability of this conclusion will differ, but I don’t think it has to do with his mental illness as much as it is a fundamental aspect of growth.

The selfishness is basically outlined above. Dimitri is selfish about his pain and secrets, purposefully and selfishly driving people away because he wants to keep the burden to himself. His vice is guilt and he indulges in the pain of it like an addiction. Hatred, too, is a drug. He thinks he needs it to keep going, even though all it does is bring agony to himself and others around him. Learning to accept and let go of these feelings is, again, something I think is important and a character arc that I really love, especially when you see him suffer as much as he does. Now, the execution of this is lacking, I admit. But that’s an issue for another time I think.

I am not quite sure if I did much to change your opinion, but this is all I can think of for now. There is probably a lot more than I’ve left out because I think about Dimitri far too much to be healthy. So, I’ll leave you off with some honorable mention aspects of his character that I think are super fun:

Pre-timeskip Dimitri has his hair tucked behind his ear. He can lift a wagon by himself. In the DLC, when faced with an impossible-to-open gate, it was not muscle man Balthus who said he couldn’t open it, but twinkish teen Dimitri. He’s not really smooth with one-liners. Like, at all. Notably, when attacking Manuela post-timeskip, he says, “Perhaps I should have appeared before you holding a bouquet of flowers, rather than the weapon that will end your life.” Adding to this, at one point, Dimitri fucked up a pick-up line so badly the girl came after him. Areadbhar has a mitten on it in the Azure Moon final picture. He breaks everything. His Crest activation ability even supports this, using twice the durability of any given Combat Art. One of his post-timeskip counselor messages is, “I lived in the slums for a long time, and I saw how the people there suffered from poverty and the ravages of war. There must be something I can do to save them." His room in the academy is right next to Sylvain’s, meaning that for almost an entire year Dimitri was a single wall away from hearing whatever nonsense Sylvain was getting up to. Dimitri is the only Lord that takes the throne and doesn’t abandon his people in some form or another.

And, finally, he is pretty sexy. And that’s all that really matters, isn’t it?

#dimitri alexandre blaiddyd #fe dimitri #dimitri #fire emblem three houses #FE3H #Anonymous

[sardonicallys]

𝗱𝗲𝗴𝗿𝗲𝗲𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝗱𝗲𝗽𝗮𝗿𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗲 | 𝗽𝗿𝗼𝗹𝗼𝗴𝘂𝗲

mobile masterlist | web masterlist

𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: Hyunjin + Jisung + Female!Reader

𝗚𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲: Street Racing AU, Love Triangle, Angst

𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: Illegal Activity (street racing, importing cars and modifications, actively avoiding authorities, ellicit drug use, underage drinking), Violence (car wrecks, physical altercations and battery), Cursing, Terminal Illness

𝗦𝘆𝗽𝗻𝗼𝗽𝘀𝗶𝘀: The beauty of weighing a whole more than the sum of its part is that everything always looks perfect from far away, but when the details finally manifest, the margin for error escalates exponentially. If thrill was a sport, Jisung would be the poster child; there isn't anything he wouldn't do to taste the acrid essence of adrenaline and his own blood. But not everyone admired his desire to take every block like a trip, especially not Hyunjin. It takes nothing short of a car wreck, a police raid, and a lot of coincidental magic to mend a bad impression — but it doesn't last.

𝗪𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗖𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 1,040

𝗔𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿'𝘀 𝗡𝗼𝘁𝗲: Recently had a burst of inspiration from multiple facets (namely, God's Menu visuals, Initial D rewatches, and some wonderful authors here on Tumblr) to attempt a street racing AU for Hyunjin and Jisung. I'm super excited to get this series going!

Please message me if you’d like to be included in the taglist.

He's fifteen when he first gets a slice of what it really means to have full control.

What that even entails, he's not sure, as he's been a calculated implantation who was molded by the hands of others, carefully crafted to have strings inserted in the crevices of his joints, along the planes of his bones, and deep within the grooves and valleys within the chamber of his skull. There is nothing of him that belongs solely to himself, so when he tasted the power of petrol through direct injection, it made all the difference because it was all for him. It was all he ever wanted, and he was sure that the high he chased was all he ever needed.

"Just start it, it won't bite," Adam jeered, jamming his elbow into his friend's ribs before receiving an image of disgust, eyes satellite revolving behind his wired glasses.

"I don't have my license yet, you know that."

"...Oh yeah, late birthday. Right," sighing, he leaned a hip into his new — or as new as a used car could get — CP1 in defeat.

"Don't be a pussy Peter, you don't need a license just to start the damn car," this time, it was Ismail's mocking tone that filled his ears, "The police aren't gonna ride up just cause you started a car."

And he knew that. But something acrid developed in the back of his throat the moment his eyes caught glimpse of his own reflection in the window tint, there was an unspoken and ominous looming apprehension that settled in the acid of his stomach, and it didn't feel right. It especially didn't feel right when Adam snatched the back of his head with his palm, deftly shoving him into the driver's seat as Ismail threw the passenger door open, their delighted howls of amusement loading the perimeter of the tiny coupe. Having gripped the steering wheel for balance, Peter attempted to settle as a clairvoyant pitched click simmered from his hands. Flinching, he released the circumference as the two boys looked at one another, matching cheshire grins before directing them at their timid friend.

"...Did you lock the steering wheel?" Adam dropped the passenger seat as he climbed into the back, elbows slung on Peter and Ismail's chair shoulders, hands hung into the valley above the console while Ismail wound his seatbelt in.

"Was that the noise?"

"Hell yeah it was."

"...So?" Peter deadpanned, rolling his eyes as Adam reached over and buckled him into the driver seat.

"Really gotta start the car now so you can unlock it."

"What?"

"Yeah, you heard him, start the car," Ismail chided as Adam tossed the keys into Peter's lap, interested gazes boring holes into his forehead.

"You both are fucking with me, unlock the steering wheel on your own," sulking, he unclipped his belt while reaching for the door's handle. Ismail gripped the crook of his elbow before sighing, "Come on, Peter, it's not that deep just start the car."

"If it's not that deep, why do you guys want me to start the car so bad?"

The two had sheepishly muddled expressions, each different but radiating a similar emotion. Adam was the first to shrug, attempting to compose himself, "...You know, cause friends do everything together, and all that shit."

"It's fun, really, and once you get your license you're going to do it anyways so we thought it'd be fun to like...Teach you?"

"To be honest Peter, sometimes you're a fucking know-it-all and for once, we knew something you didn't so we wanted to rub it in a little. But we really do wanna get you to drive with us, you know," despite the insult, Adam looked the most sincere he had been, the purest expression of honesty Peter had ever seen. It almost made him shiver he was so repulsed, but, it also gave light to the trio's friendship that he hadn't necessarily understood before. Left to simmer in his thoughts, he reached into his lap without another word and shoved the key into the ignition before pulling and rotating his wrist forward, the engine purring to life.

"Happy?"

The volume of cacophony only increased as a final smile developed on Peter's mouth, all three satisfied. But what he had not noticed the moment the engine woke as he had been refraining from breathing, it somehow took the swelling and containment from his lungs, stole it away and replaced it with something addictive.

He's fifteen when he feels like he's losing everything.

There isn't anything in particular that Hyunjin wanted out of life, no desires outside of maybe getting a PlayStation 4 for his birthday and to pass math because he was tired of sitting in the hallway on his knees every week, hands hung in the air as punishment for having the lowest scores in his class — thankfully not in the school because he couldn't imagine what that punishment was like. In his heart, he knew he studied. Whatever he actually retained? That was a different story.

This was the beginning and end of it all, and he didn't think he was especially good or bad, whatever that implied. But the day he came home, the door to his parents' restaurant out front locked with a shoddy scrawled sign taped to the glass that read there was an emergency and they were closed for the next couple days, the house following their absence, he started to wonder that perhaps there was more to life than a PlayStation 4 and passing math. Despite being raised Catholic, baptized, and studying through Sunday school, he never really saw himself as religious. Most of the sermons felt more like mindless chants memorized through repetition than deliveries of profound messages but when his mother lie almost breathless, lips tainted blue as she clutched his hand as tightly as she could, whispering how much she loved him, Hyunjin suddenly wanted to believe in God.

"Don't tell anyone, especially not your mother," in his palm were the keys to the Tiburon in the garage, Hyunjin's father wrapping his hand around his son's, offering comfort through the touch but stern firmness that married with his words, "No one."

"...Okay."

"Be careful."

"Yes, dad."

#stray kids #stray kids scenario #stray kids fanfic #stray kids fanfics #stray kids angst #skz #skz scenario #skz scenarios #skz imagines #skz fanfic #skz fanfics #skz angst #stray kids hyunjin #skz hyunjin #hyunjin scenario #hyunjin scenarios #hyunjin imagines #hyunjin angst #stray kids han #stray kids jisung #han scenario #han scenarios #han imagines #han drabble #han drabbles #han angst #jisung scenario #han jisung #jisung scenarios #hwang hyunjin

[mostlycompetentwriter]

On Track

F/M Pairing: Y/N x Lee Minho

Genre: Married Life AU, Romance

Warnings: Smut and Language

Word Count: 11K

Summary: Despite her reputation, Y/N is considered one of the very best agents in the music industry. Of course, it doesn’t help that she married one of her clients---notoriously stubborn and arrogant Lee Minho AKA the extremely talented Lee Know whose silky voice and amazing choreographies appeal to an enormous fan-base. A pop singer who prefers to work alone, Y/N usually obliges Minho’s preferences...until her boss demands that he collaborate with the up-and-coming and multi-talented trio, 3racha.

Well, nobody ever said that married life is easy.

For: @hwngjn​

There’s a certain decorum involved with the management of arrogant pop singers who think the entire world revolves around their singular existence. In my experience, if you want to tame these wild inclinations, then it’s best to do one of the three things: 1) leave the company ASAP with a two-week notice and a heartfelt plea for a good recommendation, 2) tolerate the existence of this pop singer and hope that he matures with age, or 3) marry this pop singer because you fell in love without understanding the fraternization clause of your contract. 

Allow me to elaborate: options one and two will leave you with enough room to continue rising through the ranks without much conflict with upper management. You see, I have firsthand knowledge because I lived through the ensuing outcomes, leaving my first job at the tender age of 23 with very little knowledge and then arduously suffering at my next position with a female artist who insisted on testing my patience. But then again, if you choose to skip options one and two and pursue option three, then you better learn to live with the consequences because it will bring the most long-term effects.

Let me start from here because, for the most part, the consequences for me were fairly minimal. The record company was, of course, incensed when they found out about my unauthorized affair. Unfortunately, Minho liked to brag about the things he cherished, and he made no secret of our relationship outside of the company. I knew it was only a matter of time before the issue was brought to the attention of Mr. Park, the company’s CEO and head producer. 

I can still remember sitting in his big office, ignoring the lingering smell of smoke, while Mr. Park shoved my management contract in my face. “What the hell is wrong with you?” he asked, to which I had no response other than my weakness for Minho’s cunning smile. “You’re done here,” he announced and my heart broke in my chest. 

Fortunately, before I could finish packing my belongings on the same afternoon, Minho had appeared at my desk with a very unhappy Mr. Park trailing behind him with an intense scowl. “Tell her,” Minho growled.

“Y/N,” he sighed. “You’ve been reinstated. Mr. Lee made a convincing argument on your behalf. Apparently, he can’t possibly work here and renew his contract without you as his manager.”

I remember glaring at Minho for his intervention, since our impromptu marriage was entirely his fault. “Thank you, sir.”

Thereafter, I was determined to do the best job I could as famed singer Lee Know’s manager, even if it meant facing scrutiny from jealous fans or bowing my head when I faced another agent in the hallways. I suppose I could deal with their scrutiny because it was better than the alternative of finding myself lounging away in Minho’s expensive condo unemployed and ruined because of my reputation. Even so, I was walking on thin glass everyday, and Minho continued to make things hard by insisting that he didn’t need to follow the rules, especially since he insisted on some one-sided feud with Mr. Park. 

For example, today Minho was scheduled for an interview with a very distinguished magazine, but my husband had decided to prioritize his never ceasing libido over regular responsibilities. “Hold still,” Minho said, smirking against the side of my neck while his hands made quick work of my skirt and panties, shoving them harshly down my legs to make room for his greedy touches. Inhibited access to the heat between my legs, presented to him in just the way he liked, meant that his fingers were currently teasing the swollen folds of my labia while I fell apart at the seams. 

I could tell that Minho wanted to take his time, but one glance at my wristwatch told me that we weren’t allowed such liberties today. “No, sir,” I said, reaching behind me to scratch my nails along his forearm. “You have an interview in ten minutes!”

“Relax,” he said, kissing delicately down the individual knobs of my spine. “I missed you today.”

“How romantic,” I deadpanned. “Can you hurry before the agency sends someone to look for us?”

As I said before, Minho was never the type to follow clear instructions, and he didn’t like the fact that his agency was rather strict when it came to scheduling. He liked to spite the men upstairs whenever an opportunity arose, such as prolonging needless foreplay when I was already dripping down my thighs because of his ministrations. I reached behind me for his belt, attempting to undo the zipper and release the erection straining the material.

“What’s your hurry, sweetheart?” he purred, knocking away my hand. 

“My job as your manager,” I returned, fervently trying to hasten our unexpected intimacy. 

“Well, as your favorite client, I suggest you bend over for me so I can fuck this little pussy.”

His words went straight to the tight coil offering no resistance the longer Minho continued to speak dirty words into my ears. “Did you lock the door?”

“Why? Are you expecting someone?”

I frowned, ready to offer a snarky retort before the words were wiped clean from my head when I felt the tip of his cock sink into my awaiting heat. “What was that, sweetheart?” he asked and I moaned loudly because he was suddenly intense with his movements, leaving no room to gather my bearings before he was fucking at a harsh pace.

Actually, in hindsight, I should’ve seen this coming when I met Minho in my office for the very first time. He walked in wearing a loose-fitting tank top and tight skinny jeans like he was attending a fraternity party instead of a company meeting. Minho’s steps were completely assured, sunglasses framing his face perfectly and standing out against the smooth tone of his skin. “Y/N?” he asked with a smirk.

“Miss Y/L/N,” I said with a roll of my eyes. “The agency assigned you to my care.”

“Really?” Minho asked, cocksure and smiling bright as he made himself comfortable on my futon without permission. “Miss, you say?”

“We go by professional titles, Mr. Lee,” I said, glaring at him from behind my computer screen. 

“Sure,” he dismissed, reaching for the flower vase on my coffee table. “How does this work exactly? You do whatever I ask, right?”

“Put the vase down and pay attention.”

Minho’s smile vanished at my tone. “What did you say?”

“Mr. Lee, the agency forewarned me about your...behavior. I must assure you that it won’t be tolerated because my job is to make sure that you do everything outlined in your contract. I’m sure you didn’t bother taking the time to read it, but there are certain things the company expects of you other than posting to your Twitter at 3:00 AM in the morning.”

I took a deep breath, satisfied that he appeared to be listening. “For example, the company expects your first album release this October. It’s my job to make sure you attend all recording sessions. Furthermore, promotions will be anticipated leading to the album’s delivery to applicable streaming platforms. That means interviews, photoshoots, award shows, and radio performances. Please understand that I’m one of the very best this agency has to offer, which means my clients demonstrate respect and high aptitude for their work and how it reflects on the company. From the moment you first stepped through that door, I knew that you lacked both of those capabilities.”

I stood up from my desk, walking around to the front to regard the man who suddenly found it difficult to look at me. “Here’s a warning, Mr. Lee. If you fail to adhere to my standards, then I won’t hesitate to ask the company to find you a new manager, understand?”

Minho scoffed, snatching his sunglasses away before nodding his head. “Fine.”

Satisfied, I reached behind me for the manila folder I prepared for his arrival. “Now, let’s review your schedule.”

Of course, that was two years ago and despite the whirlwind of mischievousness that encapsulated Minho, including several scandals, an endless barrage of paparazzi, and several intense arguments with upper management, I wouldn’t trade our relationship for anything else in the world. You see, I never counted on falling in love with an idol singer, but he managed to charm his way into my good graces with an irresistible smile and warm personality masked beneath his arrogant facade of indifference. He always brought a smile to my face, even in the midst of an intense orgasm bent over my desk as his cock hit deep inside. 

He fingers wrapped around my wrist, dragging my watch into his line of vision. “Two minutes, Y/N.”

I groaned in complaint, wondering how someone who graduated college with a flawless 4.0 GPA continuously broke company rules on a daily basis.

The following morning, I found myself crushed between several executives for an undisclosed company meeting. “Everyone!” Mr. Park announced. “I have exciting news for this year’s Christmas theme.”

A chorus of groans greeted his words. “Sir, I thought we were leaving the decision for the talent?” another agent spoke up.

“Yes, but I think this will work better for our core demographics,” Mr. Park said. “Y/N!”

I sat up straighter, attempting to look more alert than I felt inside. Unfortunately, Minho had kept me up all night in the small recording studio he built in our shared condo, asking me for continuous feedback on his latest project. “Sir?”

“Mr. Lee gave us a very interesting demo last week for a recent project.”

“Oh?”

“I’d like to make it a collaboration effort with our talent,” Mr. Park said and my heart seized in my chest because I knew firsthand just how much Minho despised working with other people. “3racha have landed their first platinum album. We need to capitalize on their success!”

“You want a collaboration between 3racha and Minho?” I asked, swallowing hard at the idea of telling my husband. 

“Exactly,” Mr. Park said with a smile. “For the music video, I was thinking we could also invite Hwang Hyunjin and Lee Felix to choreograph something for the project.”

“How...exciting?” I offered, cringing at my tone. Thankfully, Mr. Park was already addressing 3racha’s manager while I stared at my empty coffee mug and wondering if I would need more caffeine to survive.

Afterwards, Mr. Park adjourned our meeting and I returned to my office to find Minho waiting for me perched on the edge of my desk. “Sweetheart,” he greeted me, pulling me in by my waist to press a welcoming kiss to my pout. “You seem worried?”

I leaned back enough to meet his gaze. “You better promise me that you won’t get upset and scream.”

Minho rolled his eyes. “When have I ever done that?”

A million scenarios filtered through my mind before I decided to leave those memories in the past. “I just finished a company meeting.”

“Oh yeah?” he nodded, playing with the necklace resting against my collarbone. “What happened?”

I took a deep breath, searching for the right words. “Mr. Park had an... interesting suggestion.”

Minho glanced up and narrowed his eyes. “This doesn’t sound good.”

“He wants a collaboration,” I said, deciding to go for the killing blow before I could lose any more of my fading confidence. “The new demo you played for the company. He wants you to work with 3racha.”

Minho was quiet for a moment before he chuckled. “Really? Well, I don’t think so, sweetheart. You know how I feel about those things.”

I released an unsteady exhale. “It might be an opportunity?”

He shook his head. “You just march your cute little ass back into Park’s office and tell him I’m not interested.”

I groaned, pulling out of Minho’s arms to walk around my desk. “I have no power to tell Mr. Park anything.”

“Why not? You’re my manager!”

“Yeah, but he’s the head producer and owner,” I remarked, offering him an unimpressed look as I sat down to unlock my computer. “Besides, I think it’s a cool idea for the fans.”

Minho frowned. “Fuck, if I’m collaborating with anyone, then it’s gonna be Sam Smith or Post Malone.”

“As likely as that sounds,” I started with a dramatic sigh, “I think you should start small and work your way to the top.”

“But 3racha?” Minho grimaced. “Those fucking guys think they’re the absolute shit around here.”

“That sounds familiar.”

“Not funny,” Minho grumbled. “It’s my demo. I should be able to choose who I work with.”

“I think you’ve forgotten the fine print in your contract,” I said, reaching across the desk to offer his hand a gentle squeeze. “Please don’t make a big deal out of this. Can’t you make an exception...for me?”

Minho sighed, and I offered my absolute best pout in return.

“You’re lucky that I love you.”

Later that afternoon, I was surprised to meet Mr. Kim in the elevator on my way to the lobby. It was heavily rumored around the office that 3racha’s manager was notorious for locking himself away in the studio with his favorite clients. “Y/N,” he greeted me. “Are you busy?”

“Not really,” I said, holding up a folder. “I was bringing some files to Mr. Park.”

“Leave them with his secretary,” Mr. Kim insisted. “I thought it might be a good idea for you to meet my clients since we’ll be working together.”

“Minho is busy with an interview right now.”

“Oh, that’s fine,” Mr Kim said. “Maybe it’s better if you talk to them first?”

I considered his offer, noting the disheveled appearance of his suit. “How long have you been trying to find me?”

“Does right now work for you?” he continued, pointedly ignoring my question.

“If you must insist,” I grumbled. “But they’ll have to meet at some point.”

“Yes, but I think we can delay the inevitable,” Mr. Kim said with a pointed look which I knew was directed at my husband.

“Fine.”

My easy agreement was met with a satisfied smirk to which I resisted the urge to remind Mr. Kim that I was only meeting his clients to make things easier for everyone involved in the collaboration. Of course, I had no room to talk down to my superiors and Mr. Kim’s credentials were practically golden compared to the minimal mark I had left on the company and its prolific talent. Instead, I let out a shaky exhale, wondering if it was too late to reconsider the fight I endured on a regular basis to keep my position with the company.

“Here we are,” Mr. Kim grinned. The elevator stopped on the top floor with a resounding alarm. “I think you’ll find my clients to be satisfactory.”

“In comparison to Minho, you mean?” I asked, narrowing my eyes as Mr. Kim urged me to follow him down a narrow hallway. I vaguely recognized our destination, but I usually never lingered around the studios.

“Did I say that?”

“It was implied,” I sighed, crossing my arms.

“Well, that wasn’t my intention, Y/N. You, of course, understand that nothing between us is personal?”

“We’re colleagues, Mr. Kim,” I replied. “That defines our relationship.”

“In that case...” he trailed off, pausing outside one of the doors. “I’m excited to work together.”

I rolled my eyes when he turned his back, but held my tongue as he reached for my hand to drag me inside the room. Immediately, my eyes were drawn to the plethora of monitors and screens dragging the walls of the entertainment studio. It reminded me of my early time as an intern during college, overwhelmed by the inner workings of the record company I was privileged to support, learning everything about the business. There was also a time, however briefly, when I first entered my current company as nothing more than an executive assistant for Mr. Kim who enjoyed reminding me of the fact, especially when his clients continued to eclipse mine in popularity. And that included the three men who offered us polite smiles when we interrupted their session. 

“Y/N,” Mr. Kim said, dragging me further into the room. “I thought it might be nice to formally offer introductions. I’d like you to meet Bang Chan, Han Jisung, and Seo Changbin.”

“I’m very excited,” I said, taking on a professional tone as I extended my hand to Chan. “My client is looking forward to your future collaboration.”

Chan accepted my outstretched hand, curling his fingers around mine. “Likewise.”

I withdrew my hand slowly, offering Jisung and Changbin a courteous nod. “Mr. Kim insisted that we meet today.”

“Yes,” Chan nodded. “But your client is noticeably absent.”

I swallowed hard as I met his gaze. “Minho is busy with an interview.”

“I see,” Chan remarked, taking a step back. “Well, 3racha is working until this evening. Perhaps Minho could join us here after his meeting.”

I turned around to look at Mr. Kim who only shrugged in response as if it hadn’t been his idea to keep Minho as far away as possible until necessary. I rolled my shoulders, schooling my expression as I gave Chan an airy laugh. “That only makes sense, doesn’t it? Let me send him a message.”

“In the meantime,” Changbin sighed from behind us. “We can continue with the recording.”

“Keep us updated, Y/N,” Chan said, returning to his work while I started on drafting a message for Minho.

To Minho: Tell me when your interview ends

“Y/N,” Mr. Kim cleared his throat. “I hope Minho’s schedule is cleared for tomorrow?

I raised one eyebrow in question. “Tomorrow?”

“We’d like to start the first recording session,” Chan replied. “Mr. Park played us some of Minho’s demo and we have some ideas for the track.”

“Oh,” I responded, completely out of my element when it came to the actual creation of music despite the many nights I spent with Minho in our home studio. “I’m sure we can make it work.”

“Perfect,” Mr. Kim declared, pulling out his cellphone with a grin. “I’ll make the arrangements on my end.”

Mr. Kim stepped out into the hallway, leaving me alone with his clients who were all watching me with barely concealed curiosity. “You know,” Chan started, “I’ve listened to Minho’s albums. He doesn’t seem like the type of person to write love songs.”

“He likes to experiment,” I said, blushing when I recalled the way he had intimately explained the meaning behind his new demo, but there was no way I was telling anyone that the song was about me. 

“Is he...open to criticism?” Jisung asked hesitantly.

“Why? Is there something wrong with the demo?”

“Of course not!” Jisung immediately corrected. “I just thought I’d ask because we have some cool suggestions to improve the overall quality. But I don’t know if Minho would listen.”

It was highly unlikely. “I’m sure he’s open for improvement,” I lied, wincing when I felt my phone vibrate from inside my pocket.

Minho: Call me.

“One second, gentlemen,” I said, cringing at my tone before escaping into the hallway. I held up my cell phone reluctantly, tapping on Minho’s contact name to place the call. He answered almost immediately. “Minho?”

“Sweetheart,” came his voice from the other end. “I’ve been looking for you.”

“Yeah,” I said with a heavy exhale. “I’m with 3racha.”

He was silent on the other end for an uncomfortable duration. “Why?”

“Mr. Kim caught me on the way to Mr. Park’s office,” I said. “He insisted we meet.”

“Really? Are you having fun?”

I inwardly groaned at Minho’s tone, recognizing it as the same one he reserved when he was feeling particularly annoyed. “They want to meet you too.”

I was met with another long silence and then- “I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

I paced outside the studio entrance, wondering if Minho had suddenly had a change of heart in the brief amount of time he had been notified of the collaboration project. After all, everything would be a lot easier if my husband wasn’t so stubborn, a perfectionist in every sense of the word who had trouble delegating work to other people, especially when he didn’t trust them. But for this to be successful, Minho would need to respect 3racha as capable artists who knew what they were doing when it came to creating hit singles.

“This feels more like an intervention,” Minho suddenly announced, trudging down the hallway and pulling me out of my foreboding thoughts.

“Then don’t give me a reason to be nervous,” I said, accepting his brief kiss before reaching out for the door handle. “Promise me you’ll behave?”

“I’ll try,” Minho grumbled, and that was the only confirmation I received before letting the literal beast into the jungle..

Chan was the first to realize Minho’s arrival, standing up from the couch to greet Minho with a professional smile. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Minho glared at Chan’s outstretched hand. “I’m not thrilled about this collaboration.”

I shook my head, resisting the urge to grab Minho’s hand and force him to feign politeness for once in his life. “Oh,” Chan said, retracting his arm. “I just thought we should get along since we’re working together.”

“A temporary arrangement,” Minho said, clicking his tongue as he turned around to look at me. “Y/N can handle the PR stuff.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” I quipped, trying to lighten the air even though Minho had more or less successfully generated enough tension to last a lifetime. 

“Mr. Lee, my clients were hoping to schedule a session tomorrow,” Mr. Kim said. “We’d like to start on the collaboration as soon as possible.”

“Sure,” Minho said, jaw clenching to betray that he wasn’t entirely happy. “I’d like to work quickly.”

A long, insufferable silence ensued while Minho took his time studying the three artists he was expected to share his newest creation. Finally, Mr. Kim interrupted the never-ending staring contest, flashing a forced smile. “Bring the demo with you, Mr. Lee, and anything else you’ve been working on.”

Minho nodded. “I’ve already finished most of the song.” I took a deep breath, waiting until Minho turned around to look at me. “I have something to do, so I’ll see you at home.”

I bowed my head, holding my tongue until the sound of the door closing broke whatever spell Minho had cast over our sullen group. “Pleasant isn’t he?” Changbin snorted.

“He’s just busy,” I tried to excuse, but the sentiment fell short and I suddenly had the desire to run down the hall with my arms flailing above my head.

I guess we can consider day one a complete and total failure.

Despite the awkward tension of Minho’s first meeting with 3racha, I was determined that the remainder of the collaboration would endure no further obstacles. Accordingly, I woke up early the next morning with every intention of playing the part of the mediator, which meant doing everything possible to improve Minho’s mood. For example, my husband was notorious for being intimidating at work, but he was nothing short of soft at home and I took advantage of his early-morning clinginess by surprising him with breakfast in bed and open arms without worrying about rushing through our usual routine. 

“You want something,” Minho said, one arm pulling me close to his chest while his other hand made busy work of his breakfast.

“What makes you say that?” I asked.

“In general? Maybe it’s the fact that we’re already twenty minutes behind schedule and you aren’t losing your shit.”

I opened one eye, watching him as he swallowed down the remainder of his orange juice. “I’m comfortable.”

“Really?” Minho snickered, looking down with a knowing glance. “Sweetheart, you’re usually pushing me out the door right about now.”

“Well, things have been hectic at the company, so I thought it might be nice to treat ourselves.”

“I assume you’re talking about my required collaboration with the three idiots,” Minho said. 

“I’m concerned,” I continued. “Minho, you hate working with the other artists, but this isn’t something we can just walk away from.”

“I understand,” Minho sighed. “I don’t want you to worry about me or the collaboration. I promise to be a good boy.”

I rolled my eyes at his tone. “That’s a great way to instill confidence.”

“They’re irritating,” Minho continued. “My inbox is full of messages and I hate email.”

“Welcome to the 21st century.”

“Are you sure Mr. Park wanted this?”

“Minho,” I said, slowly pulling myself out of his arms. “Stop thinking about the project like it’s some sort of punishment. Consider it an opportunity instead.”

“Please feel free to elaborate.”

“3racha are incredibly famous and they have a considerable fanbase,” I said. “When those fans hear your voice on the record, they might start paying more attention to your music.”

Minho exhaled, chest falling beneath my hands. “I see your point, but I don’t like it.”

“Nobody said you had to like it,” I reminded him. “Be nice to them.”

“What are you asking me to do?” my husband groaned, rolling over onto his stomach.

I quickly straddled his waist, working my fingers into the tense muscles of his shoulders. “I know you don’t like the collaboration, but it won’t last forever and then you can go back to working on your solo projects.”

“I guess, but only if you come to all the recording sessions.”

I grinned triumphantly, even if it was only one victory in a long history of tedious arguments with my stubborn husband. 

Mr. Kim was a very impatient man, and I was only somewhat surprised to see him standing by the main entrance when we finally arrived at the company.  “Minho, you needed to be in the recording studio...” he trailed off, glancing at his wristwatch with a frown. “Ten minutes ago.”

My husband scoffed. “I don’t work on your time, Mr. Kim.”

“We had a late start,” I intervened. “I’ll make sure he gets there soon, Mr. Kim.”

The older man grunted, clearly displeased with Minho’s behavior. Thankfully, Minho had the decency to wait until he was well out of hearing range before further disparaging Mr. Kim’s character. “Sweetheart, I’m doing this for you,” Minho said, glaring over my shoulder at Mr. Kim’s retreating form. “But I don’t appreciate being told what to do.”

“That’s how he is,” I said. “I used to work for him as an assistant. He was always keeping everyone busy. Time wasted is money lost.”

Minho snickered at my poor imitation of Mr. Kim’s accent. “I’d kick his skinny ass if I was any less patient.”

I resisted the urge to laugh at Minho’s “restraint” because my husband was notorious for acting without consideration for the consequences. “Don’t be late for your first recording session.”

Minho pouted, looking down at me with wide, brown eyes. “You aren’t coming?”

“I’ll be there soon,” I promised him with a quick kiss. “I have something to do first.”

Minho was hesitant to leave me behind, but I offered him another encouraging kiss before retreating in the opposite direction to my office. It seemed that I would need reinforcements for this particular occasion, and I knew there were only two men who I could force to help me. As such, I found Jeongin and Seungmin loitering around their desks, passing back and forth what appeared to be a paper airplane. “I wasn’t aware I made any prior aviation requests.”

Jeongin let out a small whine, quickly disposing of the distraction in the bin next to his desk. “Sorry, Mrs. Lee.”

“Look, I’m actually in a hurry today and there’s too much going on for me to handle your hijinks,” I said, beckoning the interns to follow me into my office. “I have an important assignment for you.”

“Of course!” Seungmin agreed, walking ahead to grab the door. “Whatever you need, Mrs. Lee.”

“It’s about Minho.”

“Lee Minho?”

I turned around to glare at Jeongin. “Who else? Or did I receive notice of another client with the same name?”

Jeongin shook his head furiously. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Lee. It’s just...”

“Minho has a history with interns,” Seungmin finished. “And maybe people in general.”

I laughed at their suggestions. “You’ll be with me the entire time, alright?”

They both visibly relaxed. “So we don’t have to help him?”

“Not directly,” I affirmed, moving around my desk. “Sit down, boys.” They both complied quickly, looking up at me with wide and innocent eyes that reminded me of my days in university. “Minho and 3racha have a recording session scheduled for this afternoon.”

Jeongin squealed from his chair. “The 3racha! I love their music! Oh, do you think it’d be too much to ask for an autograph?”

Upon seeing my glare, Jeongin quickly apologized. “Would it be too much to resist that urge, Mr. Yang?”

The younger boy sighed. “Sorry, Mrs. Lee.”

“Anyway,” I continued, ignoring their antics. “I have your assignments.”

Seungmin leaned forward expectantly. “Whatever you need, Mrs. Lee!”

“Your job,” I said, glancing back and forth between Jeongin and Seungmin, “is to make sure that Minho doesn’t piss off 3racha.”

“How?” Jeongin asked with sad eyes that almost forced me to change my mind on the spot.

“Just make sure you’re at their recording sessions with me,” I said. “Intervene whenever it seems like they might argue.”

“Intervene?”

I sighed impatiently. “I don’t know, improvise or something, but nothing bad needs to happen or Mr. Park will chew my ass out for disrupting a perfectly good collaboration opportunity.”

Seungmin and Jeongin looked at each other before sighing in defeat. “Does this mean we’ll be getting a raise?”

Here’s the thing about my job: despite Minho’s insistence, he was not the only client I represented. For example, I was also currently working on the debut of a new boy group who were incredibly talented and highly charismatic. They were also obedient and respectful, doing whatever they could to make my job easier even though I never asked them to sacrifice their free-time to practice their dancing and singing. When I worked with their leader, I couldn’t help but think that my job was considerably easier in comparison to the extra effort sometimes required to fix Minho’s mistakes, like the time he showed up an hour late for an interview because I forgot to set the alarm in our bedroom. Nonetheless, it always seemed like I was doing something extra to remedy Minho’s abrasive nature, which explains why I was prepared to sacrifice two of the company’s interns for the betterment of the future.

“Are you ready?” I asked the younger boys, lingering by the doorway to the studio.

Seungmin managed a nod while Jeongin murmured something that I decided to interpret as his approval. I knocked on the door expectantly, slightly relieved when Minho greeted me on the other side. “There you are,” he said. “We couldn’t possibly start without you.”

I rolled my eyes, but followed him inside with my interns hot on my heels. Minho retired to the couch, hunched over his laptop as he worked with a frown. Meanwhile, Chan, Jisung, and Changbin were busy adjusting the sound equipment while Mr. Kim watched his clients with eager eyes.

“Stay here,” I said to my nervous interns before joining Minho on the couch. “Do you actually plan to help them?”

“Believe it or not, Y/N,” Minho said. “I’m not actually procrastinating...just putting the finishing touches on the initial demo.”

He lifted one of the earbuds, offering it to me with a grin. “Are you trying to ask me something?”

Minho scoffed. “Will you please listen to my finished demo?”

I snatched the earbud from him in response, plugging my right ear and blocking out the lingering noise from the studio. The soft cadence of the piano started to play from the computer, shortly followed by Minho’s familiar breathy vocals that never ceased to amaze me. My husband was gifted with a profoundly gorgeous voice that could reach high notes that even I would struggle to obtain.

“My voice sounds angelic, wouldn’t you agree?” Minho asked.

“I see your ego has somehow managed to grow overnight.”

Minho chuckled, leaning in to press a chaste kiss to my lips. “Don’t worry, I don't intend to sabotage the collaboration...I worked too hard on this demo.”

“I guess we can start then,” I said, stretching my arms high above my head as I waited for Minho to eject his flash drive. From the corner of my eye, I spotted Jisung approaching the two of us with a hesitant smile. “Good morning, Jisung,” I said, nudging Minho when he continued to remain silent.

“Let’s get this over with,” he said, holding up the flashdrive. “I prepared most of the song.”

“Really?” Jisung questioned, accepting the device from Minho. “I’d like to listen.”

Jisung returned to the sound booth and Chan accepted the flash drive with a brief glance over his shoulder at Minho. My husband remained silent while Chan opened the corresponding file on the computer and everyone listened with admirable concentration while Minho’s sweet music and tender voice filled the empty studio space.

“It’s good,” Changbin acknowledged at the end, even though his tone was somewhat reluctant.

“Good enough on its own,” Minho muttered and I shot him a warning look. “Fine,” he begrudged. “I have some ideas on the arrangements.”

“Sure,” Chan nodded, leaning back against the sound booth. 

“We can split up the parts,” Minho continued. “I’ll handle the chorus.”

“I see,” Chan acknowledged. “I guess that means you want us to take the verses?”

“Logical, isn’t it?” Minho snarked. “I suppose you can add a rap verse or two since that’s your...thing.”

“I could try and sing as well,” Jisung offered. “We could harmonize over the final chorus.”

“You sing?” Minho snorted. “I thought you were a rap group.”

“Does that automatically disqualify us from being singers?” Changbin asked gruffly.

“Of course not!” I interfered, inserting myself effectively between Minho and Changbin. “I’ve heard some of your vocal work and it’s absolutely beautiful.”

Minho grumbled something indecipherable under his breath from behind me, but I ignored him and continued to do my absolute best to ensure the recording session progressed as smoothly as possible. “I hope you don’t mind, but my interns will also be joining us today for their field work.”

“That’s fine with me,” Chan spoke up from his position behind the sound station. “Should we start with finalizing arrangements?”

I ushered Minho forward whose expression revealed his reluctance. However, since he was on his best behavior, Minho started conversing with Chan and the others about arranging the vocals and rap verses for the song. In return, I sat down on the couch with my interns since I wasn’t skilled enough to comprehend their impressive knowledge of song production. I knew Mr. Kim was also quite unfamiliar with their vernacular, but the proud man continued to linger around the artists as if he could possibly offer something beneficial to the professionals.

I scoffed at the idea, turning to look at Seungmin who was busy playing some sort of application on his phone. “Is this your way of doing a good job?”

He jumped at the sound of my voice, closing out of his game before shoving his phone back into his pocket. “I’m paying attention!”

From my other side, Jeongin sighed happily. “Han has the best voice.”

I tried not to laugh at Jeongin’s starstruck expression, especially since Han Jisung was a very impressive vocalist, singing Minho’s lyrics like they had come from his own imagination. “He’s quite talented,” I agreed, studying my husband to try and determine if he also shared the same opinion.

But Minho was difficult to read when he was focused on his music. He never spoke during Han’s performance, waiting until the younger boy was finished before addressing him expectantly from the recording booth. Minho sighed, pressing the button to allow him to speak directly to Jisung. “It was alright for a rapper.”

I resisted the urge to bang my head against the wall as Jisung glowered at Minho. “I’m not just a rapper.”

“The tone isn’t right,” Minho carried on as if Jisung hadn’t spoken, “we need tighter vocals.”

“My vocals are fine!” Jisung bristled and I shoved at Jeongin’s arm who immediately jumped into action. The younger intern stood up abruptly, the unexpected action commanding the attention of the entire studio...

“Who wants coffee!”

I sighed at his dramatics, but it was a decent distraction. “Why not?” Chan asked, reclining back in his chair. “It seems like we have a lot of work to do.”

Sadly, truer words had never been spoken.

Graciously, Minho managed to keep his more radical opinions to himself for the remainder of our scheduled recording sessions with 3racha. Of course, my husband always had his ways of insinuating an insult through carefully chosen words. Nonetheless, I think all parties involved knew it would be to everyone’s benefit if we finished recording the new song without arguing about Minho’s dismissive comments. 

In any case, Mr. Park was thrilled with the final result, inviting me and Mr. Kim to his office after listening to the finished product. “This is exactly what I envisioned,” he said with a bright smile. “The fans will love this!”

“It was a process, sir,” I admitted, sheepishly offering Mr. Kim what I hoped was a sincere apology.

“I’ve scheduled a shooting day for the music video,” Mr. Park said. “I have the perfect concept for the song!”

“I’m sure it’s brilliant, sir,” Mr. Kim added.

“Lee Felix and Hwang Hyunjin have agreed to choreograph the track,” Mr. Park said. “They have some very interesting ideas for your clients.”

It was only then when I remembered that Minho liked to arrange his own dances, but since we were already this far into the collaboration, he might reluctantly agree once more. “We’ll be there,” I reassured my boss.

Unfortunately, I knew it would be a horrible shooting day when I walked outside with Minho and saw a gray sky and light misting of rain. “This is already a mess,” I said, dragging my still sleepy husband to the car. 

“How long will this take?” Minho grumbled.

“If you’re willing to cooperate,” I said, fixing him with a stern glance, “then I’d imagine we can finish by this evening.”

Minho yawned. “I hate music video shoots.”

“You poor thing,” I sighed. “Whenever you finally decide to become a director, then I’m certain you’ll insist on controlling that aspect of music production as well.”

“I feel like you understand my vision, Y/N,” Minho said with an airy laugh. “I’m too tired to argue today.”

I exhaled a sigh of relief, hoping that he was being honest. “Mr. Park invited the company’s best choreographers. Please don’t insist on doing your own performance.”

“As long as they won’t have me doing anything less than artistic,” Minho said. “We should be fine.”

I chose not to take my husband’s words to heart as we drove to the shooting sight together in silence. It had started to steadily rain the longer we drove, and I had a feeling that the sky itself was foreshadowing the impending breakdown threatening to destroy all the progress we made. But I was also an optimist, and Minho was usually the least abrasive when it came to shooting music videos.

I parked my car next to the company’s van, watching a few regular staff members unload equipment from the back. “Y/N, it’s not too late for us to drive to that adorable little breakfast restaurant we like so much,” Minho reminded me.

“Shoot the video and I’ll treat you to a gourmet dinner,” I said, reaching across the console to squeeze my husband’s hand. 

He was still reluctant, but I was proud when he reached into the backseat for our umbrella. We stood close together, Minho’s hand firm around my waist. In the distance, I easily found Mr. Kim talking with his clients as they fought to stay dry under one of the company’s tents.

Mr. Kim saw me first, letting out an exaggerated sigh. “Y/N, you’ve decided to keep us waiting again.”

“Blame it on the weather,” I said, closing the umbrella as Minho wandered over to talk with one of the directors.

“Oh! You mean the rain pushing us into a delay? I guess I didn’t notice,” Mr. Kim returned, rolling his eyes as he led me further into the crowd of people. I faintly recognized the younger men dressed in gorgeous outfits, recalling their appearance in various music videos from some of the company’s most distinguished artists. “Y/N,” Mr. Kim smiled. “I’d like you to meet Lee Felix and Hwang Hyunjin. They have some excellent suggestions for the music video.”

“The honor is mine,” I said, bowing respectfully to Felix and Hyunjin. “Minho is eager to work with you.”

Felix smirked. “You don’t have to lie to us, Mrs. Lee. We know your husband prefers to work alone.”

“Ah,” I murmured. “His reputation precedes him.”

“I hope he can appreciate our efforts,” Hyunjin added. “Felix and I have been working on some new choreography for the track.”

“He’s being compliant today,” I said. “I’m sure he’ll appreciate everything you’ve done.”

“There isn’t much of a choice,” Mr. Kim said, startling when the director attempted to speak over the white-noise of the tent’s occupants.

“Attention! We’re starting inside the school for the first scene.”

I met Minho’s eyes over the crowd of moving staff, nodding for him to obey the director’s command. “What’s the concept, Mr. Kim?”

“Friends-to-lovers?” Mr. Kim shrugged. “Your pretty husband is the main character, which I’m sure will please him greatly.”

“It’s a high school setting?”

“Yes, and he has a crush on a school girl,” Mr. Kim said. “You should know this very well, Mrs. Lee, didn’t he seduce you in the same way?”

I ignored his jab. “And 3racha?”

“Protective friends, I guess,” Mr. Kim said. “The director assured me that it wouldn’t take long to film.”

“I hope not,” I said. “The less Minho has to be here, the better.”

“Cut!” the director growled. “Mr. Lee, this is not the same choreography that we discussed with Felix and Hyunjin.”

“I tried to improvise,” my husband defended himself.

There were less than two scenes left to film and I was very close to dragging Minho away from the film shooting and knocking some sense into him. “Follow the script we discussed,” the director said. “Let’s take five.”

Chan glared at Minho as he snatched a bottle of water from the snack table. “Is it too much to ask you to cooperate, Minho?”

My husband ignored Chan, pausing in front of me to bring his forehead against mine. “I’m tired.”

I shot Chan an apologetic smile as I smoothed my hands through Minho’s hair. “I’m sorry.”

He pulled back to look at Chan who was engrossed in conversation with Jisung and Changbin. “He’s impossible to work with.”

“What’s wrong now?” I sighed, feeling another impending headache courtesy of Minho’s behavior.

“I hate Bang Chan,” Minho said. “He keeps looking at your ass.”

“Who cares?” I nearly shouted, attracting the attention of a few camera workers. “Minho, the shooting is almost over. Please, for the sake of my mental sanity, can you try to listen to the director?”

Minho’s eyes betrayed his exhaustion. “I want greasy food for dinner and a cheesy movie when I get home.”

I laughed, amused by Minho’s behavior. “Whatever you want.”

“Minho!” the director yelled. “We need you back on set.”

Minho closed his eyes and sighed. “He’s lucky I’m a professional.”

I was lingering by the snack table, picking my way through the bowl of skittles because I only liked the red kind, when I heard the unexpected sound of yelling from somewhere inside the school. My husband’s voice was easy to detect about the noise, and I stuffed a handful of candies into my mouth before deciding to investigate. As much as I’d like to imagine that the yelling was a part of the music video, common sense told me that my husband had likely gotten into another confrontation with the director.

However, the last thing I expected to see was Minho marching through the open doors of the school with Chan following him with clear annoyance. “I’m telling you it’s not good enough,” Chan said, frowning when Minho stopped by my side.

“I don’t want to film it again,” Minho said. “Besides, your reaction was genuine. The best ‘acting’ you’ve done all day.”

“What’s going on?” I demanded.

“Nothing,” Minho said, glaring at Chan as he reached for my hand. “The collaboration required a song and we have a finished copy and a music video. I’ve done my part, so if you’ll kindly excuse my wife and I...”

Chan shook his head. “Do whatever you want, Minho. I don’t care anymore.... But the sad part in all of this is how much I was sincerely excited to work with you, despite your reputation.”

Minho seemed at a loss for words, glancing back and forth between me and Chan. “I can’t share your sentiment, Chan,” he finally said. “I think it’s best if we make this a one time thing.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Chan agreed with a disappointed sigh.

I could only helplessly stand aside as the two bickered, wondering if it was too late to formally retire.

Sunday was the only day of the week where I could actually enjoy myself without having to worry about the company or the never-ending demands of my clients, with the exception of my husband. “Y/N,” Minho slurred from next to me in our bed.

I made a vague noise of recognition, pulling the blankets closer to my chin because it was too cold in the apartment. “What?”

“Your phone is vibrating,” Minho said, and I managed to crane my head back just enough to realize that he was right.

I reached out my hand to feel for the stupid thing on the nightstand, pulling it close enough to read the message displayed across the screen:

From Mr. Kim: Mr. Park planned some sort of elaborate interview/performance for the new collaboration. Make sure Minho is at the company tomorrow by noon.

“Who is it?” Minho asked, using one arm to drag me closer to his welcoming heat.

“Mr. Kim,” I murmured in return.

“Why?” Minho growled.

“Apparently, you have an interview with 3racha tomorrow. Mr. Park wants a live performance for the debut of the collaboration.”

“I thought I was done with them,” Minho said with a tone that suggested he was anything but pleased with the news.

“It’s just one performance,” I argued. “And you promised me that you would finish all your responsibilities.”

“You keep adding more things,” Minho gruffed.

I smirked, rolling onto my side to face my husband. “I think it’s a great idea to let the fans hear it live on the same day it starts streaming.”

“Can’t they just play the recording of my parts?”

“It won’t be the same,” I said, leaning in closer to brush my lips across the seam of his pout. “I’ll be the loudest fan screaming your name from the back.”

He chuckled, allowing one hand to pull me in closer. “Aren’t you always my biggest fan?”

“Lee Know, will you sign my albums?”

“You’re a good negotiator, sweetheart,” he said, diving in for a passionate kiss that reminded me of when we first started dating and Minho was always eager to shower me with affection. 

“Minho,” I gasped, barely restraining a moan when he suddenly moved between my thighs.

“I’m sorry I’ve made things difficult,” he said, pressing sweet kisses to the skin around my calves. Tender moments like this reminded me of the person I fell in love with, slowly learning that there was more to Minho than his arrogant stage persona. 

“Please,” I whispered, helping him remove my sweatpants before weaving my fingers through his hair.

“Anything for you,” Minho said, breath hot against my sensitive skin. He stuck out his tongue, tasting the heat between my legs with languid strokes that promised the best wake-up call to start the day. Not that Minho and I did anything substantial on Sundays since we preferred to watch movies and indulge in the glorious high of junk food.

More often than not, we always ended up in this position with my husband doing his best to please me. And I had no room to complain because Minho was awfully talented with his tongue, and he had me writhing against the mattress like a complete mess. “You’re too good at this,” I complained halfheartedly.

His nails dug into my hips, holding me in place while he continued to drive me over the edge. “Are you going to cum for me?”

I always broke at his husky tone, lying spent in my post-orgasmic haze as Minho feathered light kisses across my legs. In moments like this, it was impossible to think about the negative aspects of working for the company, or the drama of the collaboration. Besides, it was only one more day and Minho never broke his promises.

I found a strange, but calming quality to pacing back and forth when I came across a problem that was incredibly difficult to solve. For example, arriving at the office early to prepare last minute forms while fully expecting my husband to show up to his scheduled interview and performance without my intervention. Yet, despite my expectations, I was currently backstage with Mr. Kim and his clients while we listened to a crowd of eager fans waiting to hear the new collaboration. Unfortunately, my husband was nowhere to be seen, and that meant our schedule was in jeopardy.

“Where’s Minho?” Mr. Kim nearly screeched, raking his hands through his balding hair while remaining heavily engrossed in his phone screen.

The performance was supposed to start ten minutes ago and the fans were clearly confused. A distinct murmuring of intermingled voices echoing throughout the soundless concert hall. “Y/N?”

I turned around, using every last ounce of strength I could muster to meet Chan’s gaze. “I don’t know where he is.”

“Is that so?” Chan asked, and the anger in his eyes was enough to nearly give me a premature heart attack.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, desperately ringing Minho’s number once again only to be met by the familiar greeting of his voicemail inbox.

“I knew that bastard would ruin this,” Changbin said. “He was determined from the start to see this fail.”

“It was one performance,” Jisung bemoaned, and I could only feel absolutely miserable listening to their shared complaints. But, in the words of my formidable boss, the show must go on and I couldn’t bear to disappoint the eager fans waiting to hear the song they loved.

Speaking of which, I reached out a hand to support myself against the wall when I saw Mr. Park walk backstage with his assistants. Our eyes met from across the room. “Mr. Park,” I managed, but my throat was suddenly dry despite the three empty bottles of water I had consumed.

“Y/N,” Mr. Park sighed, eliminating the distance between us. “Tell them to have 3racha perform without Minho. Our phone conversation today has certainly changed my mind about the viability of his collaboration.”

“You talked to him?” I growled, feeling nothing short of betrayed since my husband had repeatedly ignored my phone calls.

“We’ve reached an impasse,” Mr. Park explained solemnly. “Please tell Mr. Kim about the change.”

“But sir!” I tried to protest because I was extremely confused and had no idea what we needed to tell the fans.

However, Mr. Park was already focused on a new task and instead of delaying the inevitable, I found Mr. Kim talking urgently to a stage hand next to the curtain. “Introduce 3racha,” I said. “Tell them that Minho had an unexpected emergency.”

Mr. Kim, if it was even possible, grew even redder to the point where I hesitated to call for help backstage. “This is an outrage!” he finally growled, crowding me against the wall. “If this goes wrong, then I hope you know that it’s entirely your husband’s fault and his mistakes reflect poorly on your performance.

I bowed my head, because I knew that part of the blame rested on my shoulders as Minho’s manager, especially in regard to the mysterious phone call he shared with Mr. Park. In the meantime, I could hear the crowd cheer for the arrival of 3racha who performed to the best of their ability without my husband. Still, it broke my heart to know that he had somehow been excused from the performance after promising to complete the remainder of his responsibilities. 

But I still wanted to give Minho the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps something happened when I left for the company and he was forced to call Mr. Park? Still, my optimism didn’t stop my hands from shaking from my grip around the steering wheel, pulling into my usual parking spot with a heavy sigh. Before our marriage, there were plenty of times when Minho tested my patience. For example, on multiple occasions I had come very close to handing in my request to have him transferred to someone else because he was sometimes impossible to handle. However, each time I would threaten to leave, Minho always convinced me to stay, turning his entire attitude around and doing his best to make up for his mistakes. He was usually successful, but today’s mishap forced me to question whether or not he was capable of recovering from this unexpected slight. And it wouldn’t just jeopardize my relationship with him as his manager, but also the close intimacy I shared with him as his wife.

I paused at the door to our apartment, trying to listen for any sound of movement from inside. “He’ll have a good excuse,” I attempted to justify, unlocking the door before dragging my feet into the entryway. “Minho?” I called out, greeting nothing but silence before I walked downstairs to his studio where Minho often liked to escape when he wanted to be alone.

I was surprised to see him inside, working on his computer as if today was just another ordinary session. “Minho,” I snapped, opening the door without bothering to knock. “We need to talk.”

Minho sighed, glancing away from his computer screen. “I know Mr. Park cancelled my performance.”

“Yeah? And you don’t think that there’s something wrong!”

“Y/N, don’t worry about the interview,” he replied. “Park called me earlier and told me he would take care of everything.”

I slowly exhaled. “I know he called you, but I don’t understand why it happened.”

“He said it wouldn’t be the last time I was involved with marketing,” Minho continued. “I told him I was under the impression that today would be the last performance. We argued for a while and he told me that I shouldn’t bother showing up today if I wasn’t committed to the project.”

I blinked twice, trying to process his words. “Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked, barely restraining the anger. “I called you several times before Mr. Park showed up backstage.”

“I knew you’d be disappointed,” Minho said with a vulnerable tone I could hardly tolerate. “It’s not a big deal. Park knows about everything, and tomorrow we can forget about the collaboration.”

He looked at me like he was expecting me to just agree with him, but I was beyond words. Instead, I turned my back to him and retreated upstairs to our bedroom. I had fought with my husband before, but this was an entirely new level of anger and frustration.

I could hear Minho following me, but I refused to acknowledge his attempts to gain my attention. “You’re an asshole sometimes,” I growled, storming around the bedroom to find a spare set of sheets in the closet. “Let me know when you’re done being the world’s biggest jerk.”

“What are you doing?” Minho asked, blocking my path to the doorway. “We’re not done talking about this if you’re upset.”

“Yeah? Well, I’m done and you don’t always get your way,” I snapped, pushing past my husband into the living room.

“Y/N,” Minho said, reaching for my arm despite my attempts to ignore him. “I’m sorry.”

“No you aren’t,” I said, spinning around on my heel to confront him. “If you were sorry, then you’d try to make things right, but your ego has grown to such a monumental size that you can’t even accept the added weight of another mistake.”

“What are you saying?”

“You can’t make this right,” I said, tears obscuring the vision of my husband. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Sweetheart,” he said, expression transforming completely when he realized I was truly on the verge of a breakdown. “You know I’m not mad at you! Park knows everything, he was the one who told me not to show up!”

“It doesn’t matter,” I cried. “I asked you to do something that’s surprisingly simple for most people. Not because I wanted to punish you, but because I saw an opportunity to help Lee Know! But after the stunt you pulled today, I don’t think I’d bother helping you anymore.”

The single tear that fell from Minho’s eye would have normally been enough for me to recognize his guilt, but I wasn’t in the mood to fall back into the tedious cycle of forgiving him only to deal with another mishap in the future. “Y/N,” he said softly. “Please don’t leave me.”

I shook my head. “I need some time to think about things.”

“What do you mean?” he asked with a desperate tone. “We should talk about this, I can make it better!”

“Just let me sleep,” I begged him and he broke even more, releasing my hand with an uncharacteristic whine.

I tossed my blanket onto the couch, attempting to find a comfortable position on the leather. It was a far cry from the mattress in our bedroom, but I desperately needed space away from Minho. For now, I didn’t want to deal with the reality of our situation, which is why I was more than willing to drown myself in the familiar darkness of sleep.

The smell of bacon was surprisingly overwhelming when I woke up the next morning with lower back pain. I groaned, attempting to sit up despite the near constant throbbing. Apparently, leather sofas were built for style instead of comfort.

I opened my eyes slowly, feeling my heart jump inside my chest when I saw Minho holding a plate in my direction. “Y/N, are you okay?”

I swiped a hand across my face, remembering my argument with Minho from the previous evening. “I’m fine.”

“You should eat,” he insisted so I accepted the plate from him, shaking my head when I realized the toast was burnt, but Minho had never been a great cook. “I want to talk about last night,” Minho said. “Because you’re obviously hurt and that’s the last thing I wanted.”

“What did you expect?” I asked. “You weren’t there for the performance, you ignored my calls, and then my boss tells me that one of his artists decided he was done promoting his new single?”

Minho winced at my tone. “It’s all my fault because I decided to take everything personally. He forced me to do the collaboration when I didn’t want to participate, and it felt like he was taunting me...like I had no control over my music and he could do whatever he wanted.”

“He can, Minho,” I said. “You signed a contract with the company.”

“I know,” he sighed. “I keep forgetting that part, and it’s really stupid how much I let it affect me, but I hate it when things are out of my control.”

“But that’s no reason to take it on the people who were only trying to do their job,” I snapped. “Or refuse to tell your own wife!”

“I understand,” Minho nodded. “I was too caught up in my problems to realize that everyone was suffering because of my decisions.”

“What are you going to do about it?” I asked, holding my breath because I was dreading his answer.

“I’ll apologize to them,” Minho said, hanging his head in shame. “I need you to know that I’m sorry for everything.”

My heart broke at the sorrowful expression he wore, completely uncharacteristic of my husband...as was his decision to apologize since I halfway expected Minho to threaten his leave from the company. However, I also sometimes forgot that Minho was more than the way he acted around other people, and his sincerity was perfectly evident for me to recognize. “I know you are, but sometimes you do things without thinking about the consequences.”

“I’m aware,” he chuckled. “And I usually don’t really care, but that’s selfish...especially when it hurts you.”

“It is selfish,” I agreed. “How do I know you won’t do this again in the future?”

“Because I’ll remind myself of this moment,” he said. “I’ll remember what happened last night and do whatever I can to prevent it from happening again.”

I was stunned by his determination. “Are you really going to apologize to everyone?”

“I am,” he nodded. “Of course, your forgiveness matters the most.”

I took a deep breath, processing his words and the steady way he continued to hold my gaze. “You know I forgive you.”

“Thank you,” he said quietly, leaning in to press a chaste kiss against my lips. “I need you more than anything else in the world.”

My heart warmed at his declaration. “I wonder what everyone at the company would think if they saw how cheesy you are.”

“Are you going to tell on me?”

“Not as long as you behave,” I returned, laughing at the way he held me tighter, feeling nothing short of safe and secure in his familiar embrace.

Mr. Kim was surprisingly calm when I requested a meeting between our clients. In fact, I was shocked that he even accommodated my request considering our bad relations. However, I recognized an opening, walking down the hallway next to Minho who was clearly nervous as he hugged the bottle of champagne we brought as an apology gift.

“Good morning, Y/N,” Mr. Kim greeted us upon our arrival, sparing Minho a grimace before inviting us inside the studio.

Chan and Jisung were sitting together on the couch, glancing up only when Minho paused in front of them. Meanwhile, Changbin stood against the wall, watching my husband with narrowed eyes. Minho held tightly to the bottle of champagne in his hands, glancing between the three men who all wore similar expressions of disdain. “I’m sorry for the interview,” he said. “It was really selfish and immature.”

Chan arched one eyebrow, glancing between me and Minho. “Really?”

I quietly offered Minho a small push against his lower back, encouraging him to continue. “I rehearsed this,” Minho chuckled, “but it’s hard to swallow my pride.”

“Take your time,” I whispered to him softly.

“Well, let me start by saying that I was wrong about the whole collaboration thing,” he said. “It wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be and you guys did everything to help us succeed.”

Changbin scoffed. “You certainly made it more difficult.”

Jisung nodded furiously in agreement. “I don’t think I’ve ever had this much trouble with promotion.”

“I know,” Minho agreed. “I was just upset because I have this stupid thing with Park and he knows that I have...problems working with other people.”

“That’s an understatement,” Changbin said, glowering at my husband with obvious disapproval.

“Honestly,” Minho said, swallowing hard. “The song is one of my favorites. I wouldn’t mind collaborating again in the future.”

“Well-” Jising broke off, staring at Mino with something akin to shock. “Huh?”

Chan frowned. “You really made us look bad on stage.”

“That wasn’t my intention,” Minho sighed. “I was being an enormous jerk, trying to stick it to the man or something ridiculous and it played out better in my head.”

I reached out a comforting hand, squeezing Minho’s shoulder for support. “I think he knows his decision was wrong.”

Minho nodded. “You might be upset with me and I understand. I’m sorry for everything that happened, and if you decide I don’t deserve to be taken seriously, then I won’t blame you.”

Minho ended his speech with a nervous cough, thrusting out the bottle of champagne in Jisung’s direction who accepted the bottle hesitantly. “Minho,” Chan said, closing his laptop with a sigh. “I know about your history when it comes to working with other artists.”

“It’s not exactly a glowing resume,” Minho admitted.

“No, but that’s the only reason why I know that your apology was sincere,” Chan said. “If you’re really serious, then I think we can move past this.”

Changbin nodded his agreement. “Mr. Park also explained some of the...politics behind the interview fiasco.”

“I guess it’s hard for you,” Chan shrugged. “I’m glad you came here to make things right.”

“And the champagne is nice,” Jisung added quickly to which Minho managed a smile.

“I’ll do whatever I can to make it up to you.”

“Well, if you were serious about collaborating again, we can start with line distributions,” Changbin said, leaning in with a smirk. “I want to sing next time.”

Minho laughed, nodding enthusiastically. “I think that’s a great idea.”

“In that case, we have cause for celebration,” Jisung cheered. “Mr. Kim, do we have spare glasses?”

In the meantime, I took a step back to allow the four men space to talk together, distributing several glasses of champagne before laughing at Jisung’s failed attempt not to spill anything on the carpet. It was certainly admirable, and I found myself simply watching Minho from across the room. This was nothing short of substantial progress, and I cherished the moment because it promised very good things for the future.

And at one point, Minho snuck away from his new collaborators to join me at the sound booth. “I love you,” he whispered. “I’m glad you’ve always been at my side.”

I reached out for his hand, watching Chan, Changbin, and Jisung hold up their champagne glasses in our direction. “You know? I’m really excited about your next project.”

Minho grinned, leaning his forehead against mine. “I think I could get used to this...as long as you’ll be there.”

I sighed happily, closing my eyes to remember this moment. “That will never change.”

#stray kids #skz #stray kids fanfic #skz fanfic #stray kids requests #stray kids imagines #stray kids oneshot #stray kids scenarios #skz oneshot #stray kids lee know #skz lee know #lee minho #lee know fanfic #lee know smut #stray kids smut #skz smut #stray kids minho #stray kids minho fanfic

[clumsyclifford]

god its nice to be back in your ask box mm tasty your blog looks so professional now i never go on it on desktop its a brand new world also my prompt for you is “That’s okay, I bought two.” for ot4 xoxo love u my darling

hello my wonderful helen, u lookin kinda leng still <3 happy anniversary, hope you like this

side note i realise ashton is not a vegetarian but pretend he is ok carry on

read on ao3

-

“Hey,” Calum says, sliding into the chair across from Michael at the kitchen table. Michael looks up from his book and smiles.

“Hey.”

“Any idea what we’re doing for dinner?” Calum asks. “Luke doesn’t know and Ashton doesn’t care.”

“Pizza,” Michael says immediately. “Please? Pizza, please? Movie night with pizza? Did I mention pizza?” 

“I’m in,” Calum says. He smiles a little. “I was kinda hoping you’d say that, actually.”

“You know me,” Michael says cheekily, offering up his face. Calum, struggling to lean across the table, kisses his cheek. “I’ll order.”

“I was hoping you’d say that, too,” Calum says, reaching up to brush Michael’s cheek with the back of his fingers. “You’re the best.”

“I am,” Michael agrees solemnly. “The best. I agree. Well said.”

“Although Luke did let me play Oasis the whole drive home from work today,” Calum says thoughtfully.

Michael pulls a face. “Hey! If I worked with you, I’d let you play Oasis on the drive home.”

“Yeah, but you don’t.”

“Yes, but it’s the thought.”

“For Luke it was the action,” Calum says. “I don’t know, Mikey. You might have to battle Luke for top spot.”

Michael doesn’t really have a comeback for this. Frankly, most of the time he also thinks Luke is the best. He’s pretty evenly divided, actually, thinking his three boys are the best. 

“We can share,” says Michael. “Luke is small.”

Calum laughs. “I’d feel bad leaving out Ashton.”

“Ah, he’s a big boy. He can take it.”

“Boyfriend of the year, you are.”

“I’m ordering the pizza, aren’t I?” Michael holds up his phone like evidence, even though the screen is still dark. The real reason he’s the one ordering is because he’s the only person with the number of the pizza place saved to his contacts. According to Luke, this is “on brand” for him. If that means Michael’s brand is having access to pizza delivery anywhere, then he’s absolutely okay with that.

“I’ll have to run the numbers again,” Calum says lightly. He pushes his chair out. “I’m gonna go shower.”

“Please do.”

“Hey!”

“Joking, love you,” Michael says quickly, offering Calum a smile. Calum narrows his eyes, but after a moment he shrugs it off.

“Okay. Love you too.”

He sweeps past Michael through to the bathroom, and Michael unlocks his phone to scroll through his contacts.

-

The doorbell rings. 

“Dinner!” Michael shouts. He makes for the front door and pulls it open. “Hey. Thanks so much. Have a good night.”

“You too,” says the delivery guy, already turning away to return to his car and probably deliver more pizzas. That, Michael thinks, is his dream job. Driving around for hours, transporting pizza from hot ovens to eager hands and hosting one-man-concerts in his car. Not to mention that working for a pizza place must come with pizza-related perks. Free pizza, for example. Not for the first time, Michael wonders if their pizza place is seeking drivers. Also not for the first time, he pushes the thought aside.

“Dinner!” Ashton hollers, sliding into the living room on his socks. He’s shirtless in joggers for no reason Michael can identify. Sometimes Ashton is just like that. None of them are complaining, because, well. Obviously. “I love dinner!”

“Someone say dinner?” Calum appears in the room. “I love dinner.”

“Fuck’s sake, just get married already,” Michael says, rolling his eyes.

Ashton giggles and turns to Calum. “Same brain.”

“We are the wisest,” Calum says, nodding like this is an established fact. A careening force rams into him at full speed and he staggers forward, barely catching himself. “Motherfucker, Luke.”

“I heard talk of pizza,” Luke says, tucking his chin over Calum’s shoulder and hugging Calum from behind. “I’m starving. Gimme gimme.”

“We’re all starving. No hogging the pizza,” Calum informs him, angling his head to lean back onto Luke’s shoulder. They’re cute, Michael thinks. Maybe Luke should be best boyfriend for today. Or maybe Calum, if Michael’s honest. Everyone seems to generally concur that something about Calum today is extremely distracting.

The smell of pizza, however, is equally distracting. Possibly more so. Another day, Michael may need to reexamine his priorities.

“We all know Mikey’s gonna hog the pizza,” Luke grumbles.

“That’s okay, I got two,” Michael says. “One for me, one for the rest of you.”

Ashton takes the pizza out of Michael’s hands. “Sharing is caring, you arse.” 

“I did this for you!”

“Is this pepperoni?” Ashton sniffs the air. “Definitely yes.”

“Other one’s half cheese, half veggie,” Michael says, taking the box of pepperoni back but leaving the other box in Ashton’s arms. “Luke, you and I are on this one.”

“Fuck yes,” Luke says fervently. “You read my fucking mind.”

Like Michael hasn’t ordered pizza for them all dozens of times. He knows the general preferences.

Case in point: “You got veggie?” Ashton says, prying open the box. “Hey, Mikey, have I told you I love you today?”

“You have not,” Michael says, even though he probably has. “So let’s hear it.”

“Hold on a sec,” Ashton says, stepping over discarded shoes and someone’s jumper — probably Michael’s — to set the pizza down on the coffee table. Immediately, Calum makes a beeline for the box, leaping over the back of the couch and reaching to open it before he’s fully settled. Michael grins at the move before Ashton reappears in front of him, redirecting his attention.

“Well,” Ashton says seriously, putting both hands on Michael’s shoulders, “there’s something I have to tell you.”

Michael stifles a laugh. “Yeah, go on.”

“Don’t freak out,” Ashton says, “but I think I’m in love with you.”

“Fuck,” Michael says. “Ashton, I don’t know what to say. This is kind of awkward. I don’t actually feel the same.”

Ashton’s jaw drops in mock-offence. “What the fuck? I thought we had something.”

“We did, we did! But you eat veggie pizza, and I’m more of a pepperoni kind of guy, so…”

“Wow,” Ashton says, appalled. “So this is how it ends.”

Michael smirks. “Guess so,” he says, and tugs Ashton into a kiss. It’s laughable how quickly Ashton relents, melting into it like ice cream on a sunny day, sweet by all standards. When Michael pulls back he grins. “Kidding, by the way. I love you too.” 

“You’re on thin ice,” Ashton says, very unconvincingly, considering he’s smiling like a kid on Christmas. “Thin ice, Clifford.”

“I got you veggie pizza.”

“I can’t believe I’m dating a guy who doesn’t like vegetables,” Ashton says, shaking his head.

Michael scoffs. “I’m dating two vegetarians! Imagine how I feel.”

“You’re welcome,” Luke, the other resident carnivore, chimes in from his position on the sofa.

“Objectively, one of these things is worse than the other,” Calum points out as Ashton and Michael traipse over to the couch. “At least we eat healthy.”

“I respect your dietary choices,” Michael says. “Respect mine.” He wedges himself between Luke and Calum and Ashton takes a seat at Calum’s left. The TV is already on, set to play a DVD of their choosing, although it seems to have been abandoned for the moment in favour of pizza. Calum is happily munching away at a cheesy slice, Luke on one with pepperoni.

“What are we watching?” Ashton asks, reaching over Calum to pull a slice of veggie out of the pizza. It’d be civil to eat with plates, but the four of them are well past civil. 

“Whose turn is it to choose?” Calum asks. He’s already almost done with his slice. That boy can fucking eat. Not one to be outdone, Michael takes a big bite out of his own slice. 

“Oh my God,” he manages through his mouthful. “Oh my fucking God, I love pizza. This was such a good idea.”

“Agreed,” Luke says, hooking his foot around Michael’s ankle and briefly leaning into him. Michael hums as a feeling of bliss settles like a blanket cape over his shoulders, a gentle hug of happiness. This is the life. Four boys crammed shoulder-to-shoulder on one couch, not because there’s not enough room but because to be anything short of pressed together would leave too much space between any of them. God, Michael loves his life. Weird boyfriends and diverse pizza tastes and uncivil eating habits and all. He wouldn’t want it any other way with anyone else.

A minor argument between Ashton and Luke resolves into the decision that Luke will pick the movie, which of course means they’re watching High School Musical 3, though Michael can’t complain. Everyone knows the third movie is the best. Also, Michael suspects Luke just doesn’t want to pick a movie everyone will groan at. Ever the peacekeeper, that one.

As Luke goes to put the movie in and Ashton rises to grab a shirt from his room, Calum leans against Michael’s other side, reaching for his face and then pulling back at the last second.

“Greasy fingers,” he says apologetically. 

“The true homewrecker,” Michael deadpans. “Grease.”

“Hey, I like Grease.”

“Oh, shut up.”

Calum smiles, and Michael struggles to come up with a single thing more beautiful in the world. “Thanks for getting us pizza. I love you.” 

Michael quirks his lips. “That’s a bit cheesy.”

Calum rolls his eyes with impressive force. “Seriously? I’m being cute.”

“And I’m being hilarious,” Michael returns. He captures Calum’s mouth with his own, delighted to find that he can taste the faintest trace of Calum’s last slice on his lips. Calum hums softly until Michael pulls away. 

“One day you won’t be able to kiss your bad jokes better,” he says. He, too, is smiling. Michael doesn’t think that day will come anytime soon. 

“Whatever you say,” he says airily, licking his lips. “But until then, just know…you’ll always have a pizza my heart.”

Calum stares at him as Michael’s grin slowly spreads until he’s cackling, pulling a squirming Calum into his arms and saying “Get it? A pizza my heart?” over all of Calum’s futile protests.

#michael clifford #calum hood #luke hemmings #ashton irwin #ot4 fic #5sos #5sos fic #fic #my fic #HELEN!! an ot4 prompt!!! how unexpected and fun and exciting!!!!! #love you very much :))) #a helen prompt so much fun what a rarity #i catered it to you. you're welcome #<3 <3 <3 #calumcest #ask #answered

[outerbankslut]

Here For You... JJ Maybank

Summary • One afternoon after seeing a certain blond pogue hurt you are left confused and worried for him. So you set out to figure out exactly whats happened to him or more like what happens behind the closed doors of the Maybank residence.

Warnings • Swearing. Cannabis abuse. Mentions of abuse(from the show)-And please if you’re going through anything like that please talk to someone. My doors always open if you need to talk <3

Word Count • 4.3k (Imagine)

Masterlist

(GIF isn’t mine, let me know if it’s yours)

    FLOUR ENCASED YOUR clothing as you finally slid the greased up tray into the oven, dusting your hands off after. John B and your friends were out on the boat for the day which you declined to have the day to yourself to bake cookies and do homework in peace without the likes of John B your brother and JJ your best friend. He stayed around a lot and at this point he basically lived there but you didn't mind. Truth be told, you had a big fat crush on the boy. But it was the opposite of all teenage love stories. He didn't love you back. You often found yourself happy to wake up and see the boy sitting around the house drinking beer or smoking a joint. He gave a sense of comfort in the house that felt so empty without your dad.

You and John B being twins shared most things—one being friends. You had known the blond since you were in third grade, and that was when the crush bloomed but you could tell by his constant hookups he didn't know nor reciprocate those feelings. He only thought of you as a friend.

Then there was Pope. Occasionally you worked down at his dads shop for extra money for rent if your uncle didn't come through with it as well as groceries since he didn't seem to care if you or John B starved. Pope was the sweetest and smartest boy you had met. When your brother refused to show you how to drive a boat the Pope showed you on delivery once. Though it got you in trouble with Heyward when you turned back up late to the shop.

And Kiara. She was a Kook. Got a taste of both sides of the jungle. The kooks didn't sit well with her so she ended up an honorary pogue. She was your best friend as soon as she joined the group since you'd never had a girl to talk to since your mum left and your house was filled with boys.

You sighed as you settled down atop the counter looking at your phone as you added a timer since the one on the oven was broken. It was all quiet apart from the low hum of the oven fan until a door was shoved open and stumbling footsteps walked round the house.

Everyone else was on the boat, so who the hell was this?

You picked up the wooden base ball bat from that leaned on the wall just in case and held your phone ready to call 911 and inched towards where the sound was coming from.

And the bathroom light was on, you furrowed your eyes brows in confusion.

Then when you pushed open the door you caught a flash of golden blond locks as the boy quickly turned around putting his shirt on quickly.

"JJ?"

A bruise had formed just beneath his eye and along his cheek bone, mixed arrays of blues and purples splashed with the cream colour of his skin. You gasped as you saw it. His lip was busted and there was a small cut just above his eyebrow.

You reached forward to get a better look at his face as you finger lightly grazed over the bruise and he flinched away slightly making you frown.

"Sorry." You pulled away looking at the boy who had nothing to say in that moment but normally was not the quiet type. "Wait, why are you here? I thought you were on the boat with the others."

"I decided not to go today. I—um, had to help out my dad with some stuff at home." His voice wavered as he spoke leading you to believe he was keeping something. Then he turned his eyes to you. "What about you? Didn't think anyone would be here."

"I have homework to do. But that's beside the point. What happened to your face?"

He panicked. You couldn't know. As much as he wanted to wrap his arms around you and just stay there forever in your safe arms he couldn't. He couldn't drag you into his mess of a life. If would be best if you stayed just outside of it. You couldn't get hurt because of him.

"Homework. And I thought Pope was the nerd." He was deflecting. You rolled your eyes at the act. Something was definitely up. If this was just a small run in with Rafe other other Kooks then why would he be hiding that?

You sighed deciding not to question him for a second. Though you wanted to know who did it so you could punch them, he could tell you in his own time.

"I can help clean you up, got some frozen peas in the freezer. And some antiseptic wipes for that cut. But after that I want to know what happened."

"You know, I forgot I've got to get back to work and stuff. I'll see you later, Lu." He rushed past you away from the bathroom he had sought refuge in, where he thought he was alone but the prying eyes of Lucie Routledge never once left his.

"Wait, JJ!"

But he didn't stop. He carried on until he was perched on his bike and you were walking down the porch stairs.

He ignored you pulling on his helmet though when doing so his shirt rode up slightly and you got a glimpse of how bad it really was. How bad his homelife was. Though you didn't connect the dots just yet.

You gasped with a hand over your mouth seeing bruises all down his side, a messy painting of purples, blues and greens mashed together. But before you could say anything he sped away leaving you in your thoughts about what the hell happened.

The rest of the night you filled the out the pit in your stomach with chocolate chip cookies and empty thoughts. Since then you couldn't concentrate on your homework having given up an hour ago just when John B came back with Pope and Kie.

Your brother barrelled into your room a cookie in hand and jumped onto your bed as you winced hoping it didn't break.

"Did you guys have a good day?"

"Yeah. Especially since you weren't there." He joked taking a hefty bite of the cookie just as you threw your pillow his way.

He noticed your expression after that. You were distracted and confused and seemed distant.

"What's up with you?"

You sent him a puzzled look. "Nothings up with me. I don't know what you're talking about."

He rolled his eyes before standing up and messing up your hair with his hand which you promptly slapped away. "Well if you want to talk then I'm just next door."

Except you weren't part of the thoughts plaguing your mind. It was JJ.

    THE NEXT DAY when everyone was round at the Chateau JJ didn't even look at you. His gaze was focused either on the ground or towards whoever was speaking except from you. You could never get him alone to talk to him since he made sure you were never alone in a room and would spark up a conversation with literally anyone before you could utter a word.

It was midday and you were out on the HMS pogue with them all sitting next to Kie. John B was fishing, JJ was smoking as usual on the other side of the boat, Pope was reading and Kie was on her phone while you were braiding your hair. If the others weren't here you would definitely be able to cut the tension between you and JJ with a knife. If he was going to ignore you for wanting to help him then so would you. Two can play at that game.

The others could sense something was wrong though and were choosing to ignore it. They could tell since JJ had only flirted with Kie all day. He'd willingly had a conversation about science stuff with Pope. And none of them had seen either of you speak a word to each other.

As you sat with your eyes covered by sunglasses and body clad in a purple bikini you heard a squeal emitting from beside you and turned to see John B tipping fish out of a net right next to you and Kie and you felt a small splash on your legs of water from the dead Sea life.

"Nice haul, dude. Look at that." JJ commented.

Kie grimaced scouting away as she moaned at the boy for putting it so close to her. "Ugh, John B."

"Been all bait for, like, three weeks." Then John B threw a fish at JJ landing beside him.

"Gross."

Then your brother turned to you holding a fish in his hand and you scooted further away practically laying on Kie. "John B, do not thr—"

You were interrupted by the slimy fish landing on your lap after it had hit your face. JJ erupted with laughter at that as you narrowed your eyes. Practically the only interaction he had today with you. You narrowed your eyes on JJ before turning to John B and throwing the fish back at him as he ran to the other side of the boat.

Then JJ tackled down at the bow of the boat laughing before Pope jumped on top and Kie joined.

"Incoming." You yelled as you flopped down on the four people pile hearing groans in response with muffled laughter.

"I think you guys squished my organs." John B muttered as JJ nodded but you couldn't help but lie there and wish that this would be the way your life was for ever. The boat adventures, surfing, island life and doing whatever the fuck you wanted.

"Uh... Lu?" Kie muttered nudging your side and you jumped off realising you had just been sitting and staring into space. You noticed JJ wincing slightly as you all got up and felt guilty. Though he did jump into it himself. Literally.

"Sorry."

"No problem, my lungs may no longer work but it's fine." John B said and you flicked him on the forehead when he sat up.

Kie looked to you as though she got an idea and smiled. "Food at the wreck? I've got a shift in like...an hour."

"Not gonna turn down food. Especially from the wreck my favourite place on earth."

"My dads not gonna give you a discount for ass kissing." Kie deadpanned to JJ who looked dejected as you laughed. "You can have leftovers from are lunch menu though if I can convince him."

"Score." He pumped his fist in the air and you rolled your eyes. This was going to be a long day if he kept this up.

    AT THE WRECK the table could not been more awkward. The only seats left were next to each other that both you and JJ were forced to take while the other three sat on the other side of the round table laughing and joking around. It was like they did it on purpose. You picked at the fries in the small basket while JJ entered the conversation and you kept mulling over yesterday. The thought of JJ hating you felt horrible—like you were about to throw up every passing second. It may seem an overreaction to him ignoring you all day but why else would he be. Maybe you did something yesterday. Maybe you said something wrong. Maybe you—

"Lu?" Kiara stared concerned from beside you. Maybe you'd been lost in your thoughts for too long.

"What's up?"

She pointed to your hand and you looked down to see in your ranting thoughts you hadn't paid much attention to anything else and had squished a few fries in your hand. "You murdered some poor fries." She pouted as you laughed.

"Oh. Oops." You dropped them into the basket and by impulse sent a fleeting glance towards JJ who stared at his own food eating slowly which was unusual for him.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah I'm fine."

Kie nodded in response slowly not really believing you.

"Okay, well I have to go start my shift now. So I’ll see y'all later." You all waved goodbye to the Carrera girl before finishing your food and heading back out on the boat from the docks by the wreck.

First it was dropping Pope off at Heywards to help his dad and then you headed back to the chateau, a silence among you until your brother coughed awkwardly looking between the two off you.

"Okay, none of us said anything earlier but you guys are acting weird. First it was you guys not speaking a word to each other. Then it was your fry mass murder. What's going on?"

"Nothing." JJ shrugged nonchalantly. Yep absolutely nothing was wrong. It was all fine and dandy.

"Whatever you guys want to think." John B shrugged not pushing anymore.

Once you got back to the Chateau John B docked up the boat just as JJ walked off down the dock to the house. You sighed. Could you give him anymore time? This couldn't go on for much longer. Surely.

    HE WAS STILL ignoring you the next day and it was just pissing you off now. So you stormed out to the porch where he had laid himself across the couch smoking. John B was out at work so it was just the two of you there and he was actively avoiding you.

"JJ!"

Still nothing. So you did something he would definitely respond to. You went up to him and before he realised, you had snatched the joint from his fingertips.

"Hey!"

"So now you talk to me." He scowled before attempting to take the joint back but you moved backwards sending concerned eyes to his rigid figure. "I'm worried about you JJ. You come in with bruises and avoid telling me why or letting me help you and then you ignore me all day yesterday. What's going on?"

His eyes softened as he focused his gaze on you and ran a hand through his hair turning around. And just when you thought he was going to open up to you he stopped the softness in his eyes dissipating into emptiness.

"What’s wrong is you just don’t know when to let off. You need to mind your own business Lu. You’re fucking annoying getting in everyone’s business all the time.” His voice was angry but it didn’t reach his eyes. The frustration didn’t reach those baby blue eyes. In fact they were filled with a sea of guilt and regret. But it was done now. He couldn’t go back now. And he knew he’d royally fucked up when he saw your face melt into a melancholy frown. But what did he expect?

So it was your fault. You were too nosey? But you were truly just worried about your friend. Is that a crime?

“Are you joking or something?” You laughed to ease the tension but the coldness in his face didn’t break. “You’ve been mad at me because I care? Your my friend, of course I care. I’m not going to apologise for getting into your business if it means that you’re okay.”

“It’s getting unbearable! You’re getting unbearable and annoying. I can’t—I just needed—need a break! So forgive me for not wanting to talk to you today! Because no one asked you to help them, it’s not your fucking place!”

“I know no one asked thats just what you do as a friend. You support them no matter what. Those bruises are clearly from something bad if you don’t want me to know. So I’m sorry someone actually fucking cares about you JJ!” Your voice raised towards the end but then cracked at the tears building in your throat suffocating you.

It broke JJ. He was causing this. He was the idiot that made you think you were anything less than amazing. But it was for your own good. Right?

Your best friend and unrequited love, thinks your unbearable and annoying and intrusive. And yet had never mentioned it all this time.

“I just need a break for a bit, I need you to leave me alone for a bit and so I can cool off. Is that too hard for you?!”

“What? Our friendship? You can’t just put something like that on hold. You can go fuck yourself cause when your ‘ready’ and ‘cooled off’ I won’t fucking care. Find yourself some new friends who don’t care about you cause it won’t be hard for me to leave you the fuck alone!” You spat at him. Was it too harsh? You were scared it was but he was harsh first. He didn’t say anything after. Just stayed quiet as you scoffed, salty tears sliding down your cheeks.

"You're a fucking asshole JJ Maybank." You shook your head and shoved past the boy. Your mind had completely forgotten about the bruises now. If he wanted to stay out of his business then so be it. You would remove him completely from your life.

The rest of the day you lounged around the house. After the argument you hadn't given JJ his joint back so you got high the rest of the time and it helped. For a few hours and then you were back to mourning your friendship. Thinking about all the good times you’d had. All the times when he didn’t seem to hate you. The blond hadn't resurfaced. He left just after the argument going somewhere but obviously you didn't ask.

It was days after that and you were laying in your bed that was pressed up beside the window and staring at the sky thinking about the blonds words over and over.

A loud knock startled you out of your gaze and you looked down to see the figure of the boy you had been thinking about all day. Your eyes settled on him narrowed and blazing until you saw his face. Littered with more bruises than the day before. More than you could count.

He stood looking so much smaller than any other time than you had seen him. His eyes were watery and red and you could see him trembling slightly. You immediately wanted to take him into your arms and hug him tight. But would he want to?

You quickly went and opened your window allowing him in as you scooted backwards in your bed. When he got in you immediately went and hugged him not even asking for an explanation this time. He was upset and hurt and what he needed then was comfort not an interrogation.

As soon as your arms wrapped around his body he shook with sobs his tears running down your shoulder.

You rubbed his back and made soothing circles as tears of your own leaked out. After 10 minutes he moved away looking down not feeling like he could even look you in the eye after earlier and him crying to you.

"I'm so sorry, Lu. I didn't mean to hurt you and I didn't mean anything I said. I just didn't want you to know. I didn’t want you to know—to see how weak I was. I wanted to push you away so you wouldn't get involved in my messed up life." You nodded slowly as more tears fell. Tears of relief but also sadness. Sad that he didn’t think he could come to you. To confide in you and that instead he pushed you away in the worst way possible hurting you both.

JJ felt like shit. Emotionally and physically. He couldn’t believe what he had done to you days earlier. It was like his mind was in autopilot not allowing you to do anything by watch as you both argued.

He still avoided your gaze until you softly put a hand under his chin lifting his gaze to your as you smiled sadly at him. "It's okay J. I just wanted to make sure you were okay so I could help or stop it somehow. But right now there's more important things than that and I need to get some first aid stuff."

Just as you got up his hand reached out to yours holding it softly and stopping you in your tracks.

"It was my dad."

You froze tears gathering at the hoarseness of his voice and the crack that echoed when he said it. His dad. Though you never liked Luke Maybank, you never thought he would stoop this low. Beating his own child. It would take a lot of willpower not to go over there and give him a taste of his own medicine. The one person that’s supposed to take care of him. To love him. Beats him instead.

You didn't say anything except hug him once more time. Holding him tight but careful around the bruises areas. The thought of his dad putting those bruises and scars all over his body made you sick to your stomach. How dare he. How dare he think he had any right to lay a hand on his child like that.

You left when he sat perched on the edge of your bed no longer crying. It broke your heart since JJ was a tough nut to crack half the time. But this was obviously going to be his breaking point. It would be anyone’s.

You gathered all the thing you'd need and took JJ to the bathroom careful not to wake John B as you did.

"Tell me if it hurts okay?" He nods and you take an antiseptic wipe towards the new cut on his cheek dabbing it gently to clean it. There was another cut on his arm and his split lip which you cleaned as well as the boy stared at you intently. You felt redness spread across your cheeks as you finally looked into his eyes.

"What?" You asked and he just shook his head a small smile appearing.

"I'm just realising how much of an idiot I was pushing you away this morning. Your my best friend—no you're more than that and I shouldn't have done that I just didn't want to get you caught up in this mess."

"Exactly JJ. I'm your best friend. A best friend is meant to be there for you in moments of weakness or through things like this. I don't care about being caught up in all this I just care about you. I’m here for you. Always." You carried on cleaning his open wounds carefully. JJ realises in that moment. You were the one person who stood by him when he got beat up in 4th grade by a bully or when people were hanging up on him and you stood up for him. You stuck around when he did crazy shit that the others didn’t stick around for. He realised that as much as you were there for him, he wanted to be there for you. He wanted to be loved by you. Not by his lowlife dad. Or his random Touron hookups. He wanted them to be you. Always you. He loved you.

"I love you." He spurted out and you stifled a gasp as you stood silently, your hand frozen in air millimetres from his face as you stared at each other. The way he said it didn’t sound like just a friend I love you. It sounded like something more. Some more which you reciprocated but you didn’t think there would ever be a day when he would say that.

"I love you too." You laughed it off.

"No Lu, I—I love you more than a friend."

“I love you more than a friend too. JJ Maybank.” His eyes widened in happiness the corners of his lip turning up and stretching as he grinned despite his split lip.

He looked like he couldn't believe it. But you had been crushing on him for longer than you could remember but you always thought it was one way. That he thought of you like a sister or something.

But maybe this whole time you had both been oblivious to each other’s blatant feelings. At least it was out now.

He placed two hands softly on your cheeks and gently pulled you in closer smashing your lips together. You could taste the metallic blood of his cut as your tongues brushed over each other’s but you didn’t care. You both pulled away breathless as you smiled into his touch. JJ looked dazed. Though the thoughts of his injuries still plagued your mind as you pulled away running out of the room to get an ice pack and some tylenol.

The bruises running down his body made you more angry by the second. But you couldn’t be blinded by that. Keeping a level head for the boy was what was important.

When you came back the boy grinned shaking his head.

“You didn’t need to get me that. What we just did was enough of a pain reliever. Though it did make me wanna relieve myself in another way if you—”

“JJ. No.” He pouted as you said that like a sad puppy.

“Another time?”

“Yeah whatever.” You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help but smile. Somehow even through this JJ managed to smile and joke around. He had his bad days. Like the last. But he was strong. And you loved him for that. “I’m always here for you if you need me. In that way and any other way. Also you’re not going home.”

“Of course, Milady. Why don’t we go watch Netflix and—”

“Do not finish that J.”

“Awe, come on.”

Note • This is so long Jesus. And it took me so long to finish writing and edit and I still kinda hate it but I don’t think it’ll get better than this. Oh well. Oh I forgot that when I was writing it I gave them a name rather than y/n and I cba to change it now.

#jj maybank #jj maybank obx #obx #obx fanfiction #outer banks #obx jj #obx imagine #jj x reader #jj outer banks #jj #outerbankslut #jj x you #jj maybank outer banks #outer banks jj maybank #jj obx #jj obx imagine

[putas-in-suffering]

Fluff #65 with Angel or EZ

✨“So, we’re just going to ignore the fact that you drunk-dialed me to tell me you love me?”✨

This took on a life of its own without permission. El espiritu de la puteria was with us lol!

“Bitch, don’t even act like you’re not in love with him.”

You nearly choked on your drink at your best friend’s bold words, thankful that the bar was loud enough to conceal the not-so-secret secret from wandering ears.

But she wasn’t wrong, she hardly ever was when it came to matters involving you, having known you long enough to consider you like more of a sister than a friend.

“Okay fine! So I love Ezekiel, y que?” You responded defensively, eyes nervously darting everywhere but in her direction.

“Does he know that though?”

You didn’t trust yourself to answer, so you took another long sip of your margarita instead. The bitter aftertaste of the tequila lingered on your tongue like the words you couldn’t quite bring yourself to say to your boyfriend. It was silly really, considering how long you’d been with EZ, but it still felt like such a huge leap.

She sighed at your silence, reaching out to place her hand over yours.

“Girl, what are you waiting for? You know he loves you too. I mean, the man looks at you like you’re his whole fucking world or something. It’s kinda gross.”

You smiled up at your friend, her validation meaning more than she’d ever know.

The thought of how much you loved EZ invaded your mind, the very look your friend described flashing through your memory, bringing tears to your eyes and a warmth to your cheeks. Tequila always made you sentimental, but you also knew it wasn’t the only reason to blame for the flood of emotions you were experiencing.

“I’m gonna tell him,” you turned to face her, your posture and voice suddenly confident as you dug around in your purse.

“If I can just find my phone....”

“Oh this thing?”

Your friend playfully waved your phone in her hands. It was safer in her possession than in yours, given the state you were in, but that didn’t stop you from reaching for it, nearly spilling your drink on the bar top.

“See, that’s why I’m not giving this back,” she laughed, tucking the phone away in her purse.

“Bitch,” you spat with a laugh, which she returned.

***

You stayed at the bar for hours, laughing and drinking until you’d both had your fill of both. It was last call when you grabbed your purse and excused yourself to the bathroom. You stumbled inside less than gracefully, catching your reflection in the mirror. You admired yourself for a moment, wondering if EZ would have liked your outfit, what he might have said to you if he was there, what he might do. The thought alone bolstered your confidence.

You set the purse down on the counter to look for your lipgloss, except the contents were completely unfamiliar. A small gasp left your lips at the realization that you’d grabbed your friends purse instead of your own. But you didn’t rush to return it, not when you knew that your phone was finally back in your possession. You held it in your hands like it was the holy grail, toying with the idea of calling EZ just for the hell of it.

Maybe it was how much you missed him or maybe it was the liquid courage coursing through your veins, but you decided to call him either way. The rush had you bouncing on your heels, waiting eagerly for him to pick up the phone, to hear his voice on the other end of the line.  

After what felt like ages of ringing, he finally answered, but you winced at the sound of his voice, finding his panicked tone confusing-- the late hour not really dawning on you as a valid cause for concern.

“Hey, you okay?!”

“I’m fan-fucking-tastic actually,” you lilted, and EZ swore he could hear the batting of your lashes through the phone.

He smiled at the sound of your voice, happy that you’d had a good night out with your bestie. You deserved it-- you deserved it all, in his eyes. You’d been nothing short of patient and loyal, supporting him through all that came with joining the MC, and for that he would be grateful to you until his dying day. 

“Sounds that way. You drunk, baby girl?” His soft chuckle went unnoticed, but the implication for something else, something mischievous, was there. 

“Maybe so,” you giggled, now pacing the empty bathroom, twirling a loose curl between your fingers.

“Do you need me to pick you up or something, amor?”

Leave it to Ezequiel to be chivalrous when you were so clearly flirting with him.

“Or something...” 

Oh, so it was that kind of call.

Your sultry tone had him licking his lips, and despite his better judgement, he indulged you in whatever impulsive game you wanted to play.

“You by yourself?” His voiced had dropped an octave, sounding deeper, more dangerous.

“Yes, but I wish you were here with me.”

It was pointless to hide your neediness from him when he was always one step ahead of you, anticipating your every move, knowing you even better than you knew yourself at times.

“Yeah? And if I was, what would we be doing right now?”

“All sorts of fun things, baby,” you teased with a bite of your lip.

***

You leaned against the sink, skin balmy with sweat, the top half of your dress pulled down, chest heaving from the orgasm you’d just pulled from yourself. EZ grunted on the other end of the line, having reached his own peak, your name leaving his lips with a soft laugh. It was too easy to give into your whims, but there was no denying you.

“Fuck,” you swallowed thickly, trying to catch your breath.

“I love you.”

You spoke the words with such ease, as though you’d been saying them all along. You didn’t even flinch or think twice when they left your lips.

“I love you too, baby,” EZ confessed, his voice softer now, utterly vulnerable and sincere.

“EZ,”

Your response died in your throat as a heavy knock on the door starltled you back to reality.

“Put your fucking calzónes back on, cochina. The Uber is here,” your friend alerted you, with a little too much enthusiasm.

You visibly cringed, fumbling with the straps of your dress to regain some long-lost modesty.

“EZ, I gotta go, I’ll see you tomorrow okay?”

“See you then, baby,” he sweetly offered, making you smile one last time before you stood to face the music outside.

You wobbled slightly as you exited the bathroom, the blush on your cheeks not fooling anyone as to what you’d been up to, least of all your friend who had caught the tail end of the show.

“Can’t take you anywhere, I swear,” she giggled, hooking your arm in hers to lead you outside.

“Oh please, no te hagas la santa,” you shot back with a smirk.

***

The next morning you woke up grateful the room was no longer spinning, though the same could not be said for the splitting headache and dry mouth you were now cursed with. Tequila, that sneaky bitch. You laid around most of the day, until you got a text from EZ that made you jump out of bed and straight into the shower.

On my way, see you soon.

You got ready as quickly as possible, opting for a laid back look, EZ always did say how much he liked you without all the extras. You felt the thunderous sound of his bike rattle in your chest as he drove up, the anticipation of seeing him making your restless. He never had to knock because you always met him at the door, and today was no different.

You watched him as he walked up your drive way, imagining, not for the first time, what it might be like to see him come home to you every night exactly like this. To share a home with him, maybe even a life.

From the moment he reached the door you were convinced you never wanted him to leave again. He looked up at you with that smile of his, the one that made you weak in the knees, and you couldn’t help but melt. You jumped straight into his arms, holding him so close that you could feel the beating of his heart against your own.

“How you feeling today?” He spoke softly in your ear, holding you in his arms as though you weighed nothing at all.

“Better now that you’re here,” you beamed up at him as he walked you both further into the room.

You landed on the couch with an breathy laugh, legs straddled around EZ, who was all too smug at your placement on his lap. You talked about everything from life, to the MC, and everything in between until a comfortable silence took the place of lively conversation.

Your eyes were beginning to fall closed, the comfort of your boyfriend’s strong arms unmatched by anything, when his voice cut through the silence.

“So, we’re just going to ignore the fact that you drunk-dialed me to tell me you love me?”

You stilled in the embrace, breath caged in your lungs at the blunt delivery of his words. The memory was fuzzy at best, the whole night had been a blur of liquor and laughter, but for as much as you wanted to deny it, you did remember. You couldn’t help but smile, warmth blooming in your chest, recalling how easily he had said it back, as though it had been on the tip of his tongue, aching to reveal the secret you both kept from each other.

“Well, it was a little more than that, remember, lover?” You smirked, wiggling your brows suggestively to diffuse the tension with humor.

“You’re lucky I love you,” EZ deadpanned, but a sly smile pulled at his lips soon after, his deep eyes fixed on yours.

“Yeah?” You playfully mocked, but your heart was bounding in your chest.

His face inched closer to yours, a rough hand cupping your cheek, lips brushing against yours in the whisper of a kiss.

“Yeah.”

Without skipping a beat, you closed the space between you, crashing your mouth over his in smoldering kiss full of longing and relief.

“I love you too,” you finally confessed without hesitation. “So much, Ezekiel. I have for so long.”

There was only a soft grunt before he pulled you down by the nape, kissing you with a ferocity you felt down deep in your bones. When you pulled away breathlessly, he was looking into your eyes, an overwhelming feeling so pure tethering you to him— the unbreakable bond of love.

#ez reyes #ez reyes imagine #ez reyes x you #ez reyes x reader #ez reyes fanfiction #mayans mc fanfic #mayans mc

[boogiewrites]

No.9: The Body

Chapter Two

Characters: Diego Hargreeves & OFC Eve Corpuz

Summary: Eve, once a rebellious runaway had turned her life around through the help of others to now be a doctor. She tries to return the favor these days. When a mysterious man keeps popping up in her life, what will her natural talent for healing become when it finally meets someone else with abilities like hers? Diego begins to suspect there’s something amiss with the doctor that’s been helping him...

Warnings/Tags: Injury/Blood/Medical. Nothing too graphic. Banter. Some KLAUS!

Click on my icon then go to my Mobile Masterlist in my bio for my other works and chapters. Please like, comment and reblog if you enjoyed it! It helps out us writers A LOT! If you’d like added to the tags, just let me know. This is a multi-chapter fic.

Another evening to herself, as per usual, this time she’d taken the initiative to reheat her leftovers instead of stuffing them cold into her face in front of the fridge. With headphones in, she bobbed, moving loosely around the kitchen without a care. This is probably why the sudden appearance of the same stranger, if you could even call him that at this point, threw her entirely off track as she launched the spatula in her hand to his bent figure, holding himself up on her kitchen counter.

“WHAT THE FUCK?!” Eve yells and she stumbles back against the opposite counter, headphone dangling around her neck as she fumbles blindly into a nearby drawer for a knife out of panic, “WHY ARE YOU IN MY APARTMENT? WAIT...HOW?”

“Ow.” is his response as his nose streams a tiny bit of blood into his facial hair.

“Sorry but I'll do it again if you try anything!”

“It’s ME!” he says clearly showing his face and motioning up and down to himself.

“That’s a little vague don’t you think?” she says back loudly, eyes still clearly wild.

“Sorry I- just needed help. I’m not gonna hurt you. I...kinda can’t right now.” he groans and she sees the blood covering most of his stomach now.

“Oh, shit, dude why didn’t you go to the hospital?”

“Well, you weren’t there were you?”

“Fuck’s sake,” she says holding her hand to her chest to feel her heart racing as she tried to calm down. She takes a deep breath, switching off the stovetop as she approached him. “You couldn’t have knocked?”

“Not really my thing…:”

“Neither is common sense it seems,” she mumbles and he grunts as she tries to examine him. “How did you know where I live?” she narrows her eyes at him. He was covered in sweat and clearly in a lot of pain from his pale face.

“Followed you.”

“Why were you following me?”

“You're the only real doctor I can trust. I needed your help didn’t I?” he sighs and slouches again, raising his shirt up to show multiple chunks missing.

“You need help alright. Shit…” she says moving to find her gloves in a cabinet. “Go...get in the bathtub, I’ll treat you there. Let me grab you some clothes.”

Only a nod and grunt in response as he headed into the bathroom.

She hands a pair of sweats and an old t-shirt that’ll easily fit him into the bathroom. “Leave your shirt off.” she says as she grabs her supply bag.

“I get that a lot.”

She lets a smile show as the door blocks their view of each other. He was a smart ass even in the middle of pain. She could relate to that. “I’m sure you do. Now let me know when I can come in.” A grunt serves as an answer and she enters, moving to help him and make as small of a mess as possible. An understanding of quiet rests between them as she works.

“NNGH--” he groans and bares his teeth as she digs to pull a slug out of his side. The damage was worse than she thought once she got closer. He hears the clatter of bullet pieces hit the metal bowl she has on the toilet next to the tub.

“Okay, Champ. You’re taking the pain well, the pills will kick in in a little bit.” She says sympathetically.

“You’re... good at this y’know.” he gives her a nod as she sews him up, a gentle touch despite being stabbed with a needle repeatedly.

“I’d hope so.” she lets out a huff of a laugh. “Thanks.” she offers up in politeness as they settle into a comfortable back and forth, the tension from before now gone as she was focused. AS she finished, she says, “I was wondering…?”

“Mmm?”

“Whats the bat cave-like? Does Bruce let you play with the toys?”

“Ha.” he gives in a deadpan delivery. “Very funny.” sarcastic heavy as always in their tone, but he actually meant it.

“Alright. That’s got you sewed up. This could’ve gone south really fast. Y’know.”  she says with more concern in her voice. “Since I keep saving you...can I know your name now? In case you kill me,  at least my ghost can try to solve the crime from behind grave. That  seems like a pretty cool afterlife.”

“Yeah, I’d watch that show.” He gives a grimace that was mean to be a smile. “I’m not gonna kill you,” he says defensively. “...M’Diego.” he sighs outs as she helps him stand. He already felt... better somehow. Maybe it was the pills.

“Oh, a little crime fighter like those kids in the 90’s huh?”

“Yeah..” he groans and averts his eyes.

“Sorry.” she chuckles. “You’re the only Diego I’ve ever met. Bad comparison?” she offers, nos wiping his face off with a cool cloth and he’s caught off guard by her closeness in his low blood leveled state.

“Nah he’s… okay, I guess,” he mumbles.

“I’ll clean this up, you go chill on the couch and I’ll be there in a second okay?”

“Kay.” He weakly answers. As soon as she turns on the showerhead to wash out the blood, he stumbles as he tries to support himself and she catches him.

“You are hurt bad aren’t you?” She says with real concern in her eyes and she helps him to the couch despite his weak protests to the contrary.  “Here.” she says helping him with his shirt then laying a blanket around his shoulders. “So...Diego…” she says, hands on her hips. “Tell me…” she pauses as he settles. “...do you like Chinese food?”

“Not where I thought you were going with that…”

“Well do you? You wanna eat?” she asks again moving into the kitchen.

“Weirdly, yeah.” he answers, eyes following her as she moved to go back to her former task of reheating food.

“This will help you deal with those pain pills easier. Soak it up a bit, instead of a straight shot of it.” she continues to feel him staring into her back as she moves around.

“Uh...thanks,” he says softly as she sits next to him on the couch.

“I’ll bill you later.”

He gives a tired smile and resituates to eat.

“You’ve lost a lot of blood. I would keep you for observation if we were at the hospital.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Gunshots are no joke. You’re lucky it didn’t nick your intestines.”

“That’s me... lucky.”

“Seems so…” she mumbles before pushing more noodles in her mouth. She watches him eat, good appetite for just getting shot, that was for sure.

“Not bad.” he says with a mouthful and a glassy look in his eyes that makes her chuckle.

“Help yourself if you want more. I have to get some sleep.” she stands and takes her plate with her.

“Oh, okay..well..uh...thanks..again.”

“Nah, nah, champ.” she says, a single hand keeping him on the couch.”You’re staying here. Because I don’t want you dying out there, alright?”

“I actually feel pretty g-”

“It’s the medication talking, you need to rest. But know...There are no weapons in this room but I have a gun in my bedroom and if you try anything I will not hesitate to use it.”

“Yes ma’am.” he nods and gives an almost cocky smile.

“Good.” she nods. “I have work and I’ll be up around 3, there are blankets and pillows all over in here, you’ll be able to get comfortable, just try not to bleed all over the couch if you can help it.”

“I’ll do my best... and if I think I’m dying?”

“Try to let me know so you don’t ruin the furniture please.”

He grins and gives an understanding nod. “I think I'll be fine.” he says through a yawn.

“Time’ll tell.” She stands one the doorway to her bedroom. “Night Diego. Don’t make me regret my hospitality.”

“I haven’t yet have I?”

“Jury’s still out. Get some rest.”

He waves a dismissive hand to her as he lays down on the couch. He seriously did feel better. Better than he should, he thought. But he was tired, and quickly that became his main focus. --------------

A tired but becoming more alert by the second Eve wafting her tea in front of Diego’s sleeping face. He looked almost childish despite the heavy 5 o clock shadow. His strong cheek and jaw gave an almost round appearance to his face. The smoosh of his cheek definitely didn’t hurt him looking less threatening.

“Diego.” She whispers as he begins to twitch. “Tea?”

“What’s..” he begins and quickly stops, looking around the room. “Oh. Uh, yeah.” He clears his throat and without much pain dramatization, he sat up and rubbed his face, taking the mug.

She sits with her mug clasped between her hands, on the other end of the couch

“This...what is this? It’s not good.”

She chuckles and looks his way.” It’s black breakfast tea. It has a little caffeine. Thought you could use it.”

He nods and looks into the mug, brow low but she couldn’t tell if it was from sleep or thinking.

“I’m gonna be leaving soon. If you don’t feel up to it, you don’t have to go. Since you can clearly break-in I figure there’s no point in telling you you have to leave.” She sips. “But I would request you don’t steal my stuff.”

“I’m not gonna steal anything.” he sleepily insists.

“I appreciate it.”  They sit as she enjoys her tea and the low noise from outside, the crossing of people just going to bed late, and others riding early are all that fills the quiet apartment.

“You’re a Doctor…”

“Uh huh.” She looks his way a bit confused at the sudden obvious statement

“You don’t act like any doctor I’ve known before. They’re usually dicks.”

“I try hard not to be a dick. So I’ll take that as a compliment”

“I mean, it was I guess. But you’re smart right? You gotta be to know all the...doctor stuff right?”

“Yes, college, med school, internships, residencies...did it all. I like to entertain the idea that I’m smart, yeah.”

“But...you’re being like… really, nice.” There's a Pause as she sees this as a rhetorical statement. “I mean you lied to the cops to help me.” He grins a bit and looks her way, breaking his thoughtful stare into nothing. “Why?”

She considers it a moment, looks twitching as she takes another drink. “I think...you remind me of me.” She answers and it’s one he didn’t expect. “I’ve been… maybe not in the same circumstances as you but I’ve at least been through some of the same consequences you have it seems. I’ve been injured and on the run. I would’ve really liked it if someone had given me the benefit of the doubt back then. So... I try to believe the best in people because that’s what I needed too.” It was an honest and heartfelt answer.

“You’ve been shot?”

“Shot AT.”

“But stabbed?”

“Stabbed? Yes.”

“What were you into? Tattoos make me think gang but none are from any I know.”

“I had some gang-related ones but I was never really, IN one ya know? I’ve got them covered up. It’s been a while since I’ve been that girl.”

“Seems like you’re still her to me.”

“How's that?”

“Wanted criminal hiding out and getting patched up in your apartment. You’re an accessory at least. Lying to the cops. Seems like you’re still her.” He picks at her but she doesn’t feel like he’s being judgemental. Not that he had the right to be.

“Yeah or maybe I’m just bad at making good decisions. Book sense and no common sense.”

“Nah. You’re plenty smart.”

“Thanks.” A calm smile is Shared briefly before they go back to their tea.  “Can I ask you personal questions now?” She means his way slightly.

“Shoot.”

“What do you do that keeps you getting hurt?”

“That is personal.”

“Well if you’ve done it this time and you’ve been in my ER twice, chances are you’re going to be interrupting my evening again, Hmm?”

“You are smart.”

“So for not just my safety, but also so I can effectively deny and deflect for either of us, can I know? I’m also plain old nosey at this point.”

“That’s… you’ve got a fair point.” He shrugs. “I’m a… private eye. Investigator.”

“I’ve not had one PI come in with injuries like yours.”

“Maybe I’m just a really good one and they aren’t.”

This makes her let out a laugh. “How could I have not considered that?” She rolls her eyes. “Are you a hitman? Because you dress like one. That or one hood away from a gimp.”

“Hey. My leather is NICE alright? Functional, stylish. Let’s people know what I’m about.”

“Wouldn’t a PI want to blend in?”

“Not one like me.”

“So you’re… self-employed? I don’t want to be involved in any government level bullshit alright?”

“Yeah people come to me when they need things… looked into.”

“You really sound like a hitman.”

“A vigilante. I’m the good guy. I help people with bad guys. Kay? I don’t go out looking to kill people.”

“They're certainly looking to kill you though.” She offers with an upturned hand as she rises.

“Yeah, the industry Christmas parties are real awkward.”

“Is the game always “dirty Santa” every year?”

He gives a small huff of amusement her way. “Yeah, sure.”

“So Diego… Let’s see those bandages.” She claps her hands.

“You could just ask for me to take off my shirt you don’t have to make excuses.” He smirks.

She ignores him as she’s getting the feeling this is just part of his personality. “There’s no blood somehow so don’t touch them 'til tonight okay? Don’t get them wet. Re bandage after a shower okay? You healed up from last time nice so you clearly know how to handle aftercare for wounds.”

“Oh yeah. I’m a professional.”

“For both of our sakes, I hope so.” She tugs his shirt back into place.

—

After she left, Diego was left alone and his curiosity got the better of him. Not liked he tried to fight the urge to go through Eve’s stuff in her absence, old habits die hard. —------- With his bloody clothes in tow, Diego makes his way to the apartment over the gym he and Luther now owned together. He’d bought out his old haunt, they met with branding people Allison suggested and he’d hated it all. He just wanted a place to train. Luther was thinking more business and long term, stability. Things Diego didn’t spend much time considering.

“Why are you in my apartment?” He barks out as Klaus sits with his feet up on Diego’s coffee table.

“I could ask you why you WERENT in your apartment.” He looks him over, piecing the story together. “You didn’t come back after a job, but you don’t look hurt, and you’re wearing...not your own clothes. But definitely no sex because you don’t have that puppy look in your eyes.”

“HEY! Stop acting like you know everything...and I don’t look like a puppy.”

“Yeah, that’s a definite no on the one-night stand option.”

He begins to throw Eve’s unisex clothing items off as he heads towards the shower.

“Diego? Have you ever done a… Fun Run for children’s charity before?”

“What the-? No, why?”

“Then why does your shirt claim otherwise?” Klaus holds up the old participation shirt Diego had been wearing.

“Why do you have to be so goddamn nosey. Why are you even here?”

“Five wanted a meeting tonight.”

“Ugh! Why?”

“Oh, you know him...probably something apocalyptic.”

“We agreed to no jokes about that. I get fuckin….it bothers me, man.”

“Alright, I don’t know why. He’s been very up his own ass the past few days.”

“When is he not?”

“Some people like it up the ass Diego. Don’t knock it til you’ve tried it.”

“Do you ever shut up?”

“I believe I’ve been told no but I couldn’t really hear them over my talking.”

“What do you WANT?”

“To know where you were.”

“I was busy.” he flatly answers.

“And with what,  pray tell?”

“The takedown went sideways. I got shot. I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Look at that almost.. 2 and a half pack there.” Klaus points to Diego’s torso with fresh pink scars he assumed were far older and that his brother was, once again, is full of shit. “You seem to be doing just fine now.”

“Yeah...that’s kinda why I was gone.” Diego lets his hands run over the healed wounds on his stomach.

“Where’d you even get shot? I don’t see anything but reminders of your shortcomings.” He tickles at a scar on Diego’s side.

“Quit it.” He slaps Klaus’ hands away. “I got shot last night. Here. Like I said, and you would’ve heard that if you were listening.”

“I think someone got rufied and they’re too scared to admit it. It happens to the best of us b-“

“No. I know what I’m talking about! It was here. Now it’s healed.”

Klaus blinks thoughtfully at the spot his brother is furiously pointing to. “Where the fuck is it then?” he asks with a hand on his hip.

“There’s this doctor-”

“Pretty good fuckin’ doctor!”

“Right?! It’s happened twice now! I didn’t know if I was losin’ it or what the first time. But this healed even faster this time.”

“So we talkin’...aliens? Medical science experiments on the public?”

“That’s where I went to first-” he says seriously and Klaus rolls his eyes. “But she’s-”

“Oh SHE?”  he asks rhetorically in surprise. “Nice. Girl power." he holds up an ignored fist of solidarity.

Diego continues as if he hadn’t been interrupted. “I’ve checked her out man-”

“Bet ya have…” Klaus mutters.

“...she’s... normal. I can’t find shit on her.”

“Well as normal as having healing powers goes…”

Diego’s eyes shoot wide to his brothers whose body language of casual contemplation is opposite of Deigo’s.

“You think she..?”

“At this point, why the fuck not? I mean with…” he clears his throat as the delicate subject of Lila comes up. “She who will not be named... she had them... we didn’t know about her. Stranger things have happened.”

“Nah she’s not..” he begins but Klaus quickly sees the wheels turning in his brother's darting eyes.

“Is she not?” he offers with squinted eyes. “I mean if you’d done your detective work as well as you say you have-”

“I HAVE!”

“Then it seems as if it’s one of the more plausible options out of the bunch, hmmm?”

Diego says nothing but considers the advice. “I need to find out...but how.” a bit of an overdramatic delivery in Klaus’s opinion of the cliche line, but he answered with his usual cautiously optimistic tone when he gave this particular sibling advice. He was such a sensitive boy, after all, under all that leather.

“I have this wild idea... now here me out... but what if you...ya with me still? Good. Now, what if you… just ask her.” he delivers with a swing of his hand.

“Oh, hey!” Diego mocks the plan. “Yeah, do you happen to have superpowers?” he stops his mocking tone. “Because that would go SO well.”

“Ya either do somethin’ or ya don’t Diego. I’m overdue for a good sweat and this vibe you’re bringing in my space-”

“This is MY apartment!” he shouts.

“..my personal, space, is far too uptight for my brand right now so I’m gonna leave.”

“Good! That's what I’ve wanted this whole time. Thank you!”

“No problem, babe. You know I’d do anything for you, right?” he leans against the door frame with batting eyes only to add a bit more red onto the annoyed man’s face.

Diego reaches for the nearest object, “GetOutYouLittle-UNG!” he grunts as he throws it at Klaus’ head it’s caught with the door as he rushed it shut.

@jaegeeeeer​ @s-h-e-w-r-i-t-e-s​

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