CW: fluff, flirting, embarrassing moment, embarrassment, suggestive, second person POV, uses Y/N
You were always nervous when you had to announce in the ring. You had been announcing for WWE for a year, primarily on Monday Night Raw. Your small crush on Dominik, which had started before working for WWE, had grown over the past year. Outside of his character, he was a genuinely cool and sweet guy. You had gotten to know Liv too and had let slip how lucky she was during a drunk hang out one night. Ever since then and every so often, Liv reminded you that you and Dom were both single and that her and Dom’s relationship only existed on screen. You brushed her off since you were just getting started in the WWE. Maybe you would consider chatting him up after announcing your first WrestleMania.
You tried not to think about the comments you would get about your appearance and announcing skills. The IWC always had something to say and most of it wasn’t nice. You looked good though: a black dress, form-fitting but not too tight. Black sparkly heels. Your hair up in a neat bun. A soft glam makeup look with a soft red lip.
As Dom’s music hit, you kept your face neutral, but you were smiling on the inside. The boos started as he walked down the aisle.
“Accompanied to the ring by Liv Morgan and Raquel Rodriguez, from San Diego, California, weighing in at 200 pounds, Daddy-” you paused for a second, realizing your mistake. You cleared your throat. “Dirty Dominik Mysterio!”
You wanted the ring to swallow you whole. The crowd was murmuring and snickering and pointing. You kept your face neutral, but that didn't stop the heat of embarrassment.
“I didn’t know Y/N was a Dirty Dom fan,” Pat said. “Or should I say Daddy Dom fan?”
“Yes it’s unfortunate,” Michael Cole said. “I don’t know how he casts a spell over these women.”
When Dom got in the ring, he winked at you. Yep. It was time to disappear. Liv walked over to you while Dom stood on the ropes, flexing his muscles and sticking his tongue out. She snatched the mic out of your hand. You took a step back.
“You’re not allowed to call him Daddy Dom,” she said angrily. “He’s my Daddy Dom, not yours.”
You held your hands up, playing along with her. “I’m sorry,” you said. You held out your hand to take the mic back since you still had to announce Kofi Kingston. Liv narrowed her eyes at you before holding out the mic and dropping it. Your hand swiped at the air. You quickly squatted to grab the mic and popped up just as Kofi’s music hit.
You announced Kofi perfectly and were relieved to get out of the ring. You sat in your seat and covered your face. You didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. You felt someone tap your shoulder. You looked up. Kim from production. She leaned down to whisper in your ear.
“You okay?” She asked.
You nodded and whispered in her ear, “Just embarrassed.”
“You recovered well. And nothing super negative online.”
You raised your eyebrows, surprised. “That’s shocking.”
Kim smiled and patted you on the back.
You focused on the match. Dom and Kofi were doing great. But you hoped Kofi would win. You didn’t want to announce Dom again, even though you knew you would get it right this time. As the match continued, it looked like it was going to end in Dom’s favor. After a devastating drop kick, Dom pulled Kofi closer to the corner. He climbed on the ropes and jumped: frog splash.
Dom hooked Kofi’s leg and the ref counted. 1, 2, 3. Ding, ding, ding.
Kim cued you.
“Here is your winner, Dirty Dominik Mysterio!”
The crowd booed and he made his way around the ring. Dom locked eyes with you. He smiled and kissed his lips at you. You rolled your eyes and covered your mouth to hide your smile.
As the crowd filtered out and the crew started packing away cameras and equipment, you headed backstage. You went into the locker room. You had a small bag with some extra clothes and sneakers in there. Sometimes you changed clothes, other times you just changed shoes. Tonight was a change shoes kind of night. You got your bag out of the locker and pulled out your black Air Maxes. You sat down on the bench. You saw a blonde blur out the corner of your eye as you removed one heel.
“I can’t believe you called him Daddy Dom on the mic,” Liv squealed. She sat down next to you and gave your arm a squeeze. “Don’t worry, the IWC is blaming me for calling him Daddy Dom all the time.”
You laughed. “Glad I get a break this week.”
“You could use this to your advantage,” Liv said.
“What do you mean?” you asked.
“Oh come on. I know you’re still crushing on Dom. Shoot your shot,” she replied.
“No, I don’t do that,” you said. “It’s failed every time and I’m not failing and then still having to see him every week. I’m good.”
“But what if he’s interested too? I’ve seen him looking,” Liv said.
“I’ve seen him looking too, but he doesn’t approach,” you said.
“Maybe he’s also worried about the whole work thing,” Liv said.
You narrowed your eyes. “Do you know something?”
Liv held up her hands. “I don’t know anything officially. I’m just guessing that when it comes to the work thing, you both probably don’t want to rock the boat. But you two can be private. It is hard to do, but you can make it work.”
You shrugged as you tucked your heels into your bag. “Well, we’ll see if he makes a move tonight.”
“He better or he’s gonna get an earful,” Liv said. “Maybe I’ll text him.”
You stood up. “Don’t! Let’s just see.”
Liv pouted. “Are you sure?”
You rolled your eyes, but a smile formed on your face. “Yes, I’m sure. Are you ready?”
“Yes, let me get my bag,” Liv said.
You and Liv walked out the locker room together, heading toward the exit.
“Oh hi Dom,” Liv said.
You looked up from your phone and locked eyes with Dom. He smiled, looking you up and down. You returned his smile.
“What’s up Liv, Y/N,” he said.
“Just heading out,” you said.
“Can I walk with you?” Dom asked.
“Yeah,” you said.
Dom walked in step with you and Liv. You were in the middle of them. You and Dom eyed each other but didn’t say anything.
“Oh my gosh,” Liv said, holding up her phone. “I have to take this incredibly important phone call. I’ll see you two outside.”
You wanted to point out that her phone wasn’t ringing, but you knew she was helping the two of you out. She walked ahead of y’all.
You glanced at Dom and he had a smirk on his face.
“You want me to be your daddy?” he asked.
You busted out laughing. “Dom, please.”
“No, no,” he said, walking in front of you. You stopped.
“You said that ‘daddy’ extra hard in the ring,” he said, crossing his arms. “Everyone heard you.”
“I was announcing!”
He shook his head. “No, that wasn’t regular.”
You sighed and crossed your arms too. “I’m not going back and forth with you.”
“Well, I wanna get to know you,” he said. “Clearly that ‘daddy’ came from us making eyes at each other over the past couple of months.”
You rolled your eyes, but you were smiling. “I wanna get to know you too.”
He opened his mouth, but someone way down the hall encouraged them to hurry up outside. You two both hustled. He handed you his phone when you were outside.
“I was gonna give up on you,” you said after you finished putting your number in. You handed him his phone. “At least until I announced my first Wrestlemania.”
He laughed. “I get it. Don’t wanna rock the boat at work.”
“Exactly.”
“Are you staying in the hotel?” Dom asked.
“Yeah,” you replied.
“You wanna ride over together?” he asked. “I’m gonna Uber.”
“Sounds good.”
You two settled into a comfortable silence, but your mind was racing. It was finally happening! You and Dom were gonna get to know each other. You kept biting your lip to stop yourself from grinning like an idiot. You put your hand over your mouth trying not to giggle with excitement.
“Don’t hide your pretty face,” Dom said, gently touching your hand.
You moved it away from your face and he held it.
“You don’t have to be shy around me,” he said.
“You’ll have to give me a minute,” you said. “I feel like we’ve been doing the shy dance for a while.”
He chuckled and squeezed your hand. “That’s true.”
Holding hands with him felt really natural. You felt yourself moving a little closer to him. The Uber arrived and Dom put your bag and his in the truck. You settled in the backseat and he slipped in beside you. Your leg rested against his as he asked you about how you got interested in the wrestling business. You told him about how you watched WWE when you were younger, both your parents being big fans. You stopped watching for a bit and got back into it during the pandemic. You started announcing in high school when they decided to give the students a chance to announce and commentate during the football games. You found different opportunities throughout college and after. You became a permanent announcer for a local wrestling company. Then got the opportunity to announce at NXT. That opened the door for the rest of WWE.
He was a great listener. And he talked about what he liked to do in his downtime: nap, play video games, watch monster movies and shows. You teased him, adding in ‘get tattoos’ as you linked your fingers with his. He chuckled and agreed, admitting he was planning to get another tattoo after he won a title.
“Do you think I’ll be announcing you as a champion this year?” you asked.
Dom smirked. “For sure. I can see it happening. I’m going after the World Heavyweight Championship.”
“I can’t wait to see it,” you said. “Don’t worry. I’ll announce your name correctly.”
He laughed. “No worries, cariño. I know all this,” he gestured to himself, moving his hand up and down, “can be distracting.”
You giggled. “You just can’t turn it off, can you?”
Dom winked. “It’s more fun that way. Keeps people guessing.”
You two arrived at the hotel and he got the bags out. You both got your room keys and headed upstairs. He walked you to your room.
You leaned against your room door and smiled at him. “Thanks for walking me.”
“I had to keep you safe,” he said.
You smirked. “So you’ll call me?”
“Yep. And if you can’t sleep, you know where my room is,” he said.
“Oh, really Dirty Dom?” you asked.
“Get your mind outta the gutter,” he said, furrowing his eyebrows. A grin was on his face. “I was thinking we could watch a movie, maybe talk some more.”
You tapped the keycard on your door and opened the door slightly. “Ok. I was thinking, ‘I can't wait to get my fingers in your hair.’”
His mouth dropped open and you smiled wickedly, pulling your bag into the room. You stepped inside the room and turned around to face him.
“Goodnight Dom,” you said.
He smiled. “Guess we’re done being shy. Goodnight Y/N.”
(Warning i do not do mk12/mk(1) so this is mk11/mk95 shang tsung. NEVER AN IMITATOR!)
Cw: none. Fluff.
🐍💚🐍💚🐍💚🐍💚🐍💚🐍💚🐍💚🐍💚🐍
Imagine
Making dinner with shang tsung.
No servents.
No he's actually cooking with you in the kitchen.
Slpw dancing,hugs from behind. Sweet little kisses.
Laughing from playing and teasing each other.
Play fights with the dumpling dough and flour? Yup.
Shang humming softly.
(Imagine cary hiroyuki tagawa's shang tsung low and sweet voice humming to you from behind. Softly holding you. Rubbing circles on your skin as you cook)
Imagine just for a sweet moment. One small moment.
You forget that this man is a powerful sorcerer who steals souls and rules his island. You forget this is a man,this dangerous man who is a tournament master for a death tournament for the gods. For a second this feels well...normal.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Chapter Summary:
“Oh, uh- just going into town again, I guess.” You said shakily, waiting for the moment to come where he would open the door.
Micheal shrugged and turned the knob, unknowing that the door was already open. He opened the door and a bucket fell from a over the top, spilling ice and water all over the floor and soaking Micheal. The bucket landed on his head and you and Sun bursted out laughing.
“SUN!! Y/N!!” He growled from beneath the bucket.
you prank them by avoiding their kisses | Mikey, Draken, Takemichi, Chifuyu, Baji, Mitsuya, Hakkai Smiley, Angry
warnings: fluff, kissing, cussing. all characters aged up.
synopsis: he leans in to kiss you and dodge him before he can. it’s a prank, but he’s completely unaware.
song: kiss me more by doja cat (ft. sza)
Mikey → He is genuinely shocked when you turn your head before he can plant a kiss on your lips. Mikey is clingy, that is a well-known fact. Don’t deny him affection.
He lets it slide the first couple of times. But when the number of times you dodged him hits the double digits, he is visibly upset. He frowns subtly, staring at you who is making it a point to ignore him. Your eyes focused on the TV from your place on the couch. He decides he’s had enough, standing up from his spot beside you and drifting over to stand in front of you.
You glance up at him, an eyebrow raised. He just stares at you with a blank expression before pursing his lips, “Why won’t you kiss me?” He says, a hint of a whine evident in his voice.
You shrug, leaning over to peer past him as though you’re trying to get a better look at the screen. But he isn’t having it. He plops down into your lap, straddling you as his cold fingers brush over the back of your neck. “Kiss me.” He says monotonously, eyes flickering to your lips for a brief moment.
You weren’t sure whether you should laugh or stop the prank altogether. But he starts pouting as he presses his face closer. “Kiss me, geeez!”
You attempt to pull back but he follows you. You can’t go back any further and his lips are already brushing yours, eyes desperate and brows furrowing. His hands come forward to grasp at your jaw, tilting your chin so that your lips meet. He kisses you, hard and needy.
And he doesn’t stop until you’re out of breath.
Draken → You were draped over the bed you shared with Draken, lazing around after he had returned from the shop. He made his way around the room, discarding his work clothing and changing into something more comfortable. His hands coming up to undo his ponytail, dark hair falling over his shoulders. He was paying you any mind because he had yet to notice your lounging form on the sheets.
You decided that now was a better time than any to pull the prank. With that idea in mind, you sat up to draw his attention. He immediately turned towards you, ducking to give you a kiss. Only for you to put your hand up, your palm pushing him away gently. A stupid grin on your face as you watched his brows furrow, lips ajar as he made an offended expression.
It took him a moment to realize that you had just denied him a kiss. He was stunned. You denied him a kiss—who would’ve thought. He sucked his teeth, giving you a bemused look.
“Oh, uh uh.” He immediately snatches you up, pulling you towards him. His muscular arms tug you closer until you’re flush up against him. “Gimme a kiss right now or else.”
You may giggle and smile and all that, but you’re not going anymore until you give him what he asked for.
Takemichi → “Uh—” he cuts himself off. Eyes wide as he stares at you who has just pulled away before he could give you a kiss. “No way…” he mumbles to himself, mouth hung open in pure disbelief.
Takemichi turns. Hands thrown up as though looking for an answer. He starts thinking about what he could’ve done to make you act that way. He even starts sniffing at his shirt and checking his breath to make sure he doesn’t stink. When he finds nothing that could’ve turned you off, he glances at you who is visibly trying to hold laughter.
He frowns, easily able to read the situation. “You’re pranking me again, aren’t you?”
You don’t reply, trying to bite back the oncoming laughter. But he doesn’t find it funny. Rolling his eyes as he buries his head in his hands. Mumbling, “You think you’re sooo funny, don’t you?” He silently vows that he’ll reject you the next time you try to kiss him. But the second you’re in his face, puckering your pretty lips, he can’t help but give you a peck before realizing that he just broke his self-made promise.
For the rest of the day, he tries to ignore your affection. But he can’t deny you anything, to be honest.
Chifuyu → He gets so offended.
Chifuyu sits there in shock for a second, watching you with a comical expression on his face. Mouth wide open and eyes bugging as he points at himself like me? You don’t wanna kiss me?
He feigns hurt, clutching his chest and falling over. Eyes shut for a moment before he opens one, peeking to see if you’re taking pity on him. When he finds that you’re not, he gives you a bemused glance, picking himself up off the floor and pressing closer.
“C’mon, kiss me.” He says monotonously, forcing himself further into your personal space. He perches himself up on his tippy toes as though trying to ensure that he has some kind of high ground. The second you start to laugh at his nonsense, he begins smiling and pressing even closer. Grabbing at your arm and planting a kiss on your cheek and trying to kiss your lips, but you turn away again.
He frowns again before latching onto you from behind, his arms caging you in. His chest presses against your back, making you bend as you attempt to avoid his gradually grinning lips that are trying so desperately to kiss you.
Baji → “You fuckin’ serious?” His eyes bore into yours. When you don’t reply, he raises his eyebrows, eyes widening further.
He really is shocked; how dare you not kiss him?
Baji takes a moment to just stare at you, lips pursing. His eyes rack over your figure for a second before they settle on your wrist. He raises a single brow, eyes meeting yours. “That’s how you feel, huh?” He chuckles, a bitter smile on his lips. “Gimme my rubber band then.” He holds out a large hand, palm up as he waits for you to give him his ponytail holder.
You immediately clutch your wrist that holds said ponytail holder. You don’t want to give it up—it practically signifies your entire relationship.
“Give it to me,” he makes a gesture with his hand, leaning forward to take it from you. But you pull away. He pauses, wondering how you could have the audacity to deny him his ponytail holder. But then he breaks from his trance, glaring at you as he tries to snatch it from you. “Uh uh, give it ‘ere.”
“No!” You say, trying to conceal how humorous you find the whole ordeal and attempting to escape his reach. But he grabs you by the arm, tugging you closer.
“You either kiss me or you gimme my band back. Your choice.”
Mitsuya → Mitsuya is confused.
You’ve never denied him a kiss before. He doesn’t even know what to say or do. Just staring at you with an unreadable expression. Mitsuya is most likely the more mature of the bunch. So he understands that there may be a good reason as to why you don’t want to kiss him today.
He makes tons of excuses for you in his head, shrugging his shoulders as he turns back to the spread of fabrics in front of him. Returning to his work as he tries not to think about how you didn’t want to kiss him. He ponders if he should talk to you about it now or later. He decides later might be better.
But he doesn’t try to kiss you again. Rather, glancing at you every now and then to see if he can find any visible signs that would explain why you didn’t want to kiss him—maybe you had a bad day, or you just weren’t feeling that good.
You have to tell him it’s a prank. And once you do, he gives you this innocent, almost pouty look like you’ve betrayed him. Tilting his chin up so that you get the hint to kiss him from where he sits whilst you stand. His eyes flicker to your lips and you can just tell me that he really wants to kiss you. And you better kiss him too, you gotta make up for the prank.
Hakkai → He is so offended. Likely more offended than anyone else. A hint of confusion visible on his face. He even checks his breath, which only confuses him further because his breath is minty fresh. He can’t pinpoint the reason as to why you don’t want to kiss him.
His lower lip juts out, eyes glossy as his brows draw up. It stings, but he is purposefully making himself look more pitiful than he actually feels in hopes you’ll quit playing around and give him a kiss. “You don’t wanna kiss me?” He asks quietly.
You falter almost immediately, melting at the cute expression on his face. And he can read you like a book, a grin working its way onto his face. His scar parted as he flashes his pearly whites, “It was a prank, wasn‘t it?”
You tell the truth. And for a second, he considers denying you a kiss in return for your little prank. But he crumbles the second you ask him for a kiss to make up for trying to play him. And he is more than willing to give it to you.
Smiley → “Don’t play with me.” His smile drops. A thick vein gradually appears on his forehead, growing more prominent the more you avoid his kisses.
It eventually gets to the point where he’s had enough. He practically tackles you down, climbing over you and grabbing hold of your wrists as you try and fail to wiggle out from underneath him. “What?” He says. “My breath stink?”
Likely goes off on a tangent, telling a comical story about why his breath stinks if it does—which it doesn’t. He realized you were pranking him about five minutes into it. And he watches you attempt to stifle your laughter from the stupid story he’s telling.
It’s only when you’re good and distracted that he leans down and presses a hard kiss to your lips. His hand comes up to grip the back of your neck, deepening the kiss and biting your lip gently when he pulls away. And just like that, he gets off of you and goes back to whatever you both had been doing before the kiss, completely ignoring you out of spite and ignoring any further advances you try to make. All with that etched smile on his face.
Angry → Also offended. He knows he hasn’t done anything deserving of this reaction. He likely panics and texts the group chat, asking what to do. If there is at least one brain cell in Toman, Souya will likely be able to figure out that you’re pranking him with the help of whoever owns said braincell.
Even if he gets the hint that it’s a prank, he doesn’t have the guts to ask. Because if it happened not to be a prank, he wouldn’t want to say it was when it wasn’t. So he ends up sitting there in silence, glancing at you every now and then, unsure of what to do.
At some point, he tugs at your sleeve to grab your attention. And he can’t help but to lean towards you, wanting nothing more than to close the space between you both. His lips are only a breath away when he asks, “Why won’t you kiss me?” His eyes focused solely on your lips. “Did I do something wrong?”
He might slip up and kiss you anyway if you don’t beat him to it.
Is there a follow up to Din's semi drop when he gets hit on in front of his alphas again when he's wearing Garsa's clothes? I know Fennec guided him out, but did the other two eventually come to comfort him as well? Were Fennec's reassurances enough?
Through the miracle of mutual accountability, a shared braincell and purpose, and having finally learned something about actual diplomacy, Boba and Paz usher that transgressive Alpha out of the palace well-placated, charmed even, not a single fibre on his body harassed.
It takes a lot out of them and they're not happy to do it but they know they can't just damage every person who walks through that arch with genuine business and an appreciative eye. This is the path Boba has chosen for them. He needs to restore the city's-- the planet's-- faith in his integrity.
Even when it sends their beloved mate from the room, all but running, shoulders hunched small.
Paz glares after the departed visitor. "He doesn't deserve the head on his shoulders."
Boba stands from the throne, removing his helmet. "You might still remove it. Be patient." He exhales long and heavy, helmet tucked beneath his arm.
Paz recognises the body language. "Brothers!" The Gamorreans straighten to attention by the threshold. "Close the gate. There'll be no more business today."
Boba hesitates when Paz moves for the stair. He wants with every fibre of his being to follow. Paz turns back, expectant.
"Maybe it was too soon," Boba says, hoarse, so quiet Paz almost doesn't hear him.
Had he been careless again? Was... Din alright?
Paz's boots clank, slow and heavy, crossing the Rancor's grate to close the distance. Boba stares at the hand he offers. "Then we best tend to him."
Boba is terrified of what they'll find but he doesn't have it in himself to deny how his inner alpha is clawing to get to Din's side and soothe his hurt, in any way he can. He allowed this to happen in his own court again how was he going--
Paz pulls him down by his wrist, catching him in his arms when Boba's eyes fly wide, stumbling from the high step. "All of us. Together. Remember?"
Ah. A smart play.
He's glad he listens. When the door to the nest slides open, the climate-controlled temperature is unexpectedly cold. Fennec and Din are barely visible beneath the protective sea of furs, silks and cotton. It is a good sign neither of them startle or look up when Boba and Paz lock the door behind them, armour and flight suits methodically and quietly divested.
There is no rush. They have all the time in the world.
Wrapped around Din with her back to the door, Fennec only raises her head when Boba pulls the layers back, sliding in at Din's front. One hand lifts from Din's shoulder, a finger to her lips.
Din, miraculously, is asleep.
Paz moulds himself against Fennec's back, reaching past her to check Din's temperature as Boba pushes his messy fringe back. It's getting long.
The adrenal drop must have been bad if Din doesn't even react to them, so deep in his healing sleep. His temperature is almost feverish. A terrible shudder travels through his body.
Boba looks at Fennec in alarm. She shakes her head, fingers curling round his shoulder as though to keep him from bolting.
"It'll pass," she murmurs, soundlessly as Paz draws their blankets high, blocking out the artificial cold. "Relax."
Her fingers brush her lips again. Rest.
Boba looks into Din's sleeping face, the smallest frown pinching his brow, and it drives a fresh dagger through his heart. How's he supposed to rest when....
Fennec hums contentedly for the kiss Paz presses to her shoulder. He reaches past her and Boba is grateful for his big, dumb hands and their span when they rest on his lower ribs, enfolding them all in a hug. Some of the tension seeps from Boba's limbs. He follows their cue: slumping against the pillows, Din carefully gathered in his arms.
"please don't leave me" or "I will slow you down" please 😤.
(i’m sorry i only wrote “i will slow you down”, i’m working on “please don’t leave me” as well!)
[the words you never knew were in your head]
[4,665 words]
[teen & up audiences]
[beta’ed by @meloingly. any remaining mistakes are my own]
[title from Breaktown by Hanson]
[tk finds himself with a swollen knee. carlos insists in taking care of him][tk strand, carlos reyes, original female character]
[fluff, a bit of angst, mentions of hospitals, injuries, handwaved medical knowledge]
[written for @tarlosweek2020, day 1: favorite kiss + are you wearing my hoodie? + fluff]
[written for @glitch-ditch-canonbitch, who asked for i will slow you down out of my bad things happen bingo card]
read on ao3
or keep on reading here on tumblr
the words you never knew were in your head
The sun is shyly peeking on the horizon when TK opens his eyes, confused at first by the unfamiliarity of the room he's in. He shakes his head to clear the disorientation and reaches out to Carlos, finding his warm body curled up underneath the sheets. TK can't help the smile that bubbles up in his face at the sight of his boyfriend sleeping calmly on a hotel bed. He bites down on his lower lip to keep at bay the giddy giggle threatening to come out.
He doesn't want to wake Carlos up, not yet. He has big plans for this morning, but first, there’s someplace he needs to go before it becomes a national emergency.
Gently, he pushes the covers aside and lets his feet swing on the side. TK doesn’t want to turn on any lights, so he chooses to tiptoe around the room to find his way to the bathroom. But he miscalculates the space between the bed and the bathroom door, and even if it’s not the first night they’ve both spent at this New York City hotel, TK manages to hit his toes against the bedside table leg. He lets out a choked curse; he turns around to make sure Carlos is still asleep and somehow, along with the motion, TK finds himself losing balance and colliding against the very same bedside table he has tried to avoid. He attempts to stop his fall by clutching the mattress, but he miscalculates again and ends up grappling a handful of the covers.
With a graceless thump and a yelp, TK collapses on the floor, right knee first, surrounded by the bedsheets and at least one of the pillows.
“TK?” he hears as he’s biting down a cry as pain flares up from his knee to his hip.
Too much for not waking Carlos up.
“I’m fine,” he grits out. His hands are balled up so tightly into fists that his nails are drawing blood, but he can’t let Carlos know he’s hurt. “I just... stumbled.”
“You’ve just stumbled onto the floor and dragged the blankets with you?” Carlos asks, voice still rough with sleep. TK can see how his head is peeking out from behind what’s left of the bed covers actually on the bed, and he can tell the exact moment when Carlos realizes what’s going on. His boyfriend reaches blindly for the night lamp, and all of a sudden the room is filled with a soft orange light that attacks TKʼs eyes, already used to the darkness. He braces himself for the jokes Carlos is going to make — he knows what he must look like, a heap of flesh and bones awkwardly piled against the bed where he should have never, ever, left — only to look up and see worry in those beautifully warm brown eyes.
“What?” he snaps. “I—” Whatever snarky remark he’s going to make is lost in the groan that escapes his mouth when he tries to move up to his feet. His right knee just won’t cooperate — it simply won’t stretch.
“Oh, TK, where does it hurt?” Carlos asks, promptly jumping out of the bed and kneeling beside him. “Where does it hurt, TK?”
“It’s nothing,” TK tries to say, but the words come out slurred because he’s trying to get up and his leg isn’t working. The pain is almost unbearable at this point — it’s as though there is a herd of elephants stampeding from his ankle to his hip, thousands of nails crawling up, up, up until all he can feel is the deafening ache taking over his whole body.
“It’s not nothing, TK,” Carlos retorts sensibly, his hands softly touching TK’s side. “God, TK, you’re trembling. Is it your leg? I think your knee is swelling.”
“It can’t be swelling,” TK laments. “It’s just a tiny blow, a totally idiot move, I was just going to the bathroom and I stumbled and then I was falling and—” He trails off, hissing in pain as his hand goes to cup his knee.
Fuck, he thinks. It’s really swelling up.
“And you fell on your knee,” Carlos finishes his sentence when TK can’t. “On the same knee you strained last week during that pile-up?”
“Yes,” TK mutters, the pain too strong now to be hidden any longer. “I’m an idiot, aren’t I?”
“No,” Carlos reassures him as he helps TK to get up and sit on the bed. “You’re a bit clumsy.”
“I’m an idiot,” TK repeats, ignoring his boyfriend’s words. “Who else trips over his own feet and hurts one perfectly good knee?”
“One,” Carlos tells him sternly, lifting one finger in front of TK’s face. “That knee wasn’t perfectly good. The doctor said to take it easy for a couple of weeks. And two, maybe you’re an idiot,” he keeps going, placing his fingertip on TK’s lips when he tries to interrupt. “But you’re my idiot.”
TK wants to reply with a witty line, but he really can't say anything when he’s melting under Carlos' gaze.
“We need to take you to a hospital,” Carlos is saying, completely unaware of the effect his touch has on TK. “I don't like the way this knee is looking.”
“No,” TK replies all too hotly. “If we go now to the ER, it might take a while to get out. Night shifts are always the worst. We'll never make it to that luncheon with the NYPD. And weʼre here for that.”
“Weʼre not here just for that, Ty,” Carlos tells him. “The luncheon is just a part of the Interstate Police Olympics, but we are definitely not going now. You can barely move. Off to the hospital, it is.”
“But that luncheon is thrown in your honor, Officer Reyes!” TK protests. “After all, Kinkaid and you won over all those uptight New Yorkers!”
“I can’t believe I didn’t record you saying uptight New Yorkers,” Carlos mocks. “Your father would have had a stroke. Remember when you were one of them? I doubt you’ve ever stopped being one.”
“Oh, hey, let me tell you—” TK tries to reply wittily, but he’s cut off by his knee choosing that exact moment to send sharp pulses of pain through him.
“Take it easy, Tk,” Carlos tells him. “Now, sit here and wait for me. I’m taking you to the hospital.”
Carlos stands up and walks to their suitcases, forgotten by the entrance door in their rush to reach the bed the night before to celebrate, after the representation of Austin Police Department — in the form of one fit Carlos Reyes and his even fitter partner Rose Kinkaid — had won over the last two physicals from the Interstate Police Olympics held in New York for the first time since forever. He rummages through both of them and comes back with a pair of loose sweatpants and a hoodie in his hands. “C'mon, let's get you dressed.”
TK wants to protest, but he knows it's to no avail the moment he locks eyes with Carlos and sees determination staring back at him. There’s no way his boyfriend is ever letting him out of this hotel room if not to go to a hospital to get his knee checked, and even though a part of him wants to refuse, the pain in his knee is starting to become unbearable as it is.
“I will call reception to ask for the nearest hospital,” Carlos is saying. “Do you think you can put on those clothes without help?”
TK stares at the pants and nods with a confidence he really doesn’t feel. “There’s no need to alert reception,” he tells his boyfriend. “I know which hospital is closer. New York kid, remember? Just gimme a few minutes to put these on. And you should get dressed as well,” he continues, nodding at Carlosʼ state of nakedness — as much as he enjoys the sight of his boyfriend in nothing but boxer briefs, he knows there’s not a chance they're actually leaving the room if Carlos insists in looking like he just woke up.
Which he did, TK admits to himself, because he's such a klutz that he had to go and crash into the bedside table.
“You sure?” Carlos doesn’t sound so convinced.
“Are you asking if I'm sure I can put sweatpants and a sweater on my own?” TK shakes his head. “I might have a knee injury, but I am not an invalid.”
He decides to prove that he actually is able to function while Carlos turns back to the suitcases, ignoring the sharp feeling beneath his skin. Even if his knee feels like it’s got needles piercing through and reaching the nerves underneath, TK is stubborn enough to get those sweatpants on.
Only he canʼt — his leg refuses to move and he doesn’t feel his foot so he canʼt lift it up. He manages to punch through the left leg before giving up and choosing to work on the hoodie, which he is able to tame down and get past his head and on his torso and arms with relative ease. He brings one of the strings to his mouth and chews nervously on it, waiting on Carlos to turn around and help him.
Carlos is wrestling his way with some soft gray pants that scream APD, but soon enough heʼs back, kneeling once again in front of TK, who's been tapping on the floor with the one foot that doesn’t feel like it’s been trampled by a bus.
“Were the pants rebelling against you?” he jokes, but he sweetly cups TKʼs foot in his left hand and lifts it, looping the leg into the piece of clothing as painless as he can. Yet, TK can't help the hiss that escapes his throat when his knee is forced to stretch — ever so slightly, ever so gently — to fit into the sweatpants. “Now, here, can you stand on your good leg?” Carlos asks.
“I guess so,” TK replies. He places one hand on Carlosʼ shoulder and pushes himself off the bed with the other, balancing his weight so it shifts from his right knee to the left. “It hurts,” he admits.
Carlos throws an arm around TKʼs waist and helps him to keep his balance as they slowly worm their way out of the room and into the lobby, where an attentive receptionist calls a cab for them and helps TK into the vehicle.
The ride to the hospital is silent. TK tries to chomp down the pained whines that accompany every turn the driver takes a little too harshly; Carlos attempts to soothe him drawing circles on his back and whispering encouraging words into his ear. TK finally rests his head on Carlosʼ shoulder, and despite the uncomfortable position he finds relief almost instantly as he inhales his boyfriendʼs scent.
The sun is up in the sky when they reach the hospital, and TK doesn’t register much of the following moments as heʼs whirled away from Carlos and pushed onto a chair, promptly wheeled away from the entrance through doors that forbid anyone who isn’t staff or injured from trespassing.
“Wait a second,” he complains, one finger up in the air, but the nurse ignores him and pushes him further into the premises. “My boyfriend, he must be worried—”
“Now, Mr. Strand, this will only take a few minutes and heʼll be allowed inside as well.” The nurse stops in front of the X-ray room and opens the door. “We will have a look at that knee and then weʼll discuss what painkillers you should take.”
“No, no painkillers,” he says, wincing when heʼs helped up from the wheelchair and into the room. They haven’t had the time to tell the nurses at the station about it, and he’s thought that, since he’s conscious, he could warn them about his decision not to take any kind of painkillers — not even the non-opioid ones. “I, uh, I can’t take any.” He doesn’t elaborate, he really doesn’t want to. It’s bad enough that he can’t muster up the courage to tell a complete stranger about his past choices — being an addict isn’t something that’s going to go away because of a three hundred and thirty-three days of sobriety, but he’d rather keep it that way and remain an addict in recovery than having to start off from square one because of one isolated accident.
The nurse stops to look at him for a second, assessing his words and nodding curtly. “I will tell your doctors and make sure it’s noted down on your history. Now, let me help you up on the stretcher,” she instructs, her hands already latching to TK’s sides to make it easier for him to move. “This procedure will only take a few minutes, and Dr. Hernandez will see you shortly after.”
A couple of hours after they crossed the doors — there’s a slight delay in his results since the hospital is suddenly swamped with injured people from a multiple car crash — TK is lying on a bed, his right leg up in the air, Carlos by his side, and Dr. Hernandez explaining to him how lucky heʼs been.
“Injuries like this one are tricky,” the doctor says, tapping TKʼs chart on the bed bars. “It could have been far worse, with your medical history, and given that you had an accident at your job last week.”
TK feels Carlos’ hand on his shoulder, squeezing tight. He feels immediately grounded and comforted as the doctor keeps unfolding what’s going to happen to him in the next few weeks. “Mr. Strand, I want you to understand that refusing to take painkillers is going to make this recovery essentially hell for you,” the doctor goes on, her hand now gesturing in front of her. “You have a knee dislocation that we have managed to fix for the time being, but you’ll need rest and it’s going to be painful. Have you rethought your initial refusal of medicine?”
“I will be fine,” TK reassures her, grimacing as he readjusts his position and pain flares up once again. He will have to endure it, for as long as it takes, because he doesn’t want to risk it. “I can get through this. I’d rather not have any kind of painkillers.” He inhales sharply, Carlos’ hand tightening over the hospital gown he’s been forced to wear, when the readjusting movement makes his knee protest in pain. “Should I rest?”
“I strongly recommend a surgical procedure,” Dr. Hernandez tells him. “But since you’re in New York City for a short visit, that’s something your doctor at,” she trails off to check his chart, “Austin should decide as well. As for now, you must rest. Since there’s nothing else we can do here, once your paperwork is all done, you should be cleared to leave. That’ll take up some time, though.”
“It’s fine,” Carlos says with a tight smile. “We’ll wait for as long as it takes. We’re both first responders, Dr. Hernandez, we know how a shift can get from calm to war-zone like in a matter of seconds.”
The doctor smiles back at him before excusing herself out of the room. When they’re alone once again, TK can feel Carlos relaxing by his side, although his hand never stops touching him.
“What time is it?” TK asks innocently, watching as Carlos checks his wristwatch and cringes. “You should go to the luncheon. It’s for the best.”
“I’m not going anywhere without you,” Carlos tells him, a frown forming between his brows. “Stop trying to make me leave you alone in a hospital when you can’t walk on your own. Or anytime you’re in a hospital. Or, you know, anytime at all, for that matter.”
TK sighs. He knows his coma from the year before — after he got shot and took several days to wake up — had taken a toll on everyone, but especially on his father and his boyfriend. Carlos has yet to get over his fear of seeing TK in a hospital bed again, and yet, here they are.
“I’m going to be okay. And you should totally go. They’ll be waiting for you.”
“I texted Kinkaid before,” Carlos confesses. TK shakes his head — he’s pretty sure she’s pissed at him for keeping Carlos at a hospital when he should be basking in all the glory of having won the Interstate Police Olympics. “She said to take care of you, and to tell you that you aren’t allowed to even go to the bathroom on your own from now on.”
“Oh my god, Carlos, did you tell her how I hurt my knee?” TK asks, scandalized and a bit embarrassed.
“Well, she asked,” Carlos shrugs. “It’s not as though you told me it was a secret. And by the way, we should really tell your father. He’s going to be so mad at me for keeping it from him if you don’t tell him straight away, before we leave New York City tomorrow.”
“But I thought—” TK trails off as he finally brings his eyes to roam over Carlos’ frame when he turns to his side to look at him. Carlos looks exhausted, eyes puffy and weary, and he’s dressed in a yellow sweater with chewed down strings that TK knows all too well. “Are you wearing my hoodie?”
Carlos looks down on himself and blushes a nice shade of pink that tinges his olive skin. TK wants to lick a stripe up his neck, but since they’re at a hospital he needs to keep himself in check. “Uhm, yeah?” Carlos finally says. “Your suitcase was already open and I was nervous and I—”
“Don’t fret,” TK whispers, tugging on Carlos’ arm until he manages to get his boyfriend to sit on the bed and they’re at the same eye level. “I love how my clothes look on you,” he continues, voice dropping an octave if that’s even possible.
“You mean, you love ripping them off me,” Carlos counteracts in the same whisper, leaning in so their lips are almost touching.
“That too,” TK smiles hungrily. “After all, my clothes always look a bit tight around your shoulders. It’s just helping you out of an uncomfortable situation.”
“Is that so?”
“Sorry to interrupt,” says a voice from the door, and they both jump apart, startled at the interruption. They look over to see a nurse fidgeting with a chart in his hands, looking everywhere but at them. “Mr. Strand, your paperwork has been finished. You’re free to go.”
“Oh, fine,” TK says gingerly, fighting down the urge to bite down on Carlos’ neck where it is exposed next to TK’s mouth. “Thanks.”
“Here, let me help you get dressed,” Carlos offers as the nurse steps out, clearly embarrassed. “You can’t go outside wearing a hospital gown.”
“Aren’t I sexy in it?” TK teases, only to shut his mouth up when he sees a pained light in Carlos’ eyes. “Hey, sweetheart,” he says, fingers finding their way to Carlos’ chin. “Look at me. I’m okay, see? It’s going to be fine. It’s just a dislocation.”
“It may need surgery,” Carlos mutters. TK can see now the way his hands are trembling wherever Carlos’ fingers are clutching the bedsheets. “I just—Sorry, I shouldn’t be so distressed about this.”
“Carlos, look at me, please,” TK instructs with a soft voice. When his boyfriend complies, TK caresses Carlos’ cheek in circular patterns, trying to infuse some certainty in him. “I know you’re scared, and I know you don’t want to show it for my own sake. I’m scared too, but it’s going to be fine.”
“Shouldn’t I be the one reassuring you?” Carlos lets out a wet laugh. TK lifts his fingers up until they’re wiping away Carlos’ sudden tears.
“Honey, we are one of a kind,” TK smiles. He leans in to give Carlos a peck on the lips before retreating, his knee protesting in pain. “How about you help me into my clothes, we go back to the hotel and you go to the luncheon? You might even make it in time.”
“I’ve already told you, TK, I’m not going anywhere without you. You need rest, and you’re getting it.”
“But—”
“No buts,” Carlos says strongly.
“I can get some rest while you’re having fun at your luncheon!”
“Why are you being so stubborn, Tyler Kennedy?” Carlos finally snaps. When he realizes it, he brushes a hand over his face and sighs heavily. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have said it that way. I just don’t get why you want so badly for me to get the hell away from you when you’re hurt. TK, you have to understand that we’re in this together. We’ve been in this together for almost a year now. There’s no way I’m leaving you behind to go have some lunch with people I don’t even know, knowing you’d be alone.”
“I just think it’s unfair to you. You’re here to have fun, and me being a klutz just ruined it for you.”
Carlos shakes his head while he helps TK get dressed. “First of all, there’s nothing such as fun for me if you’re not around to share it with you. And second, you’re going to need help to even go to the bathroom, which is what got you into this predicament the first time. I’m not going anywhere.”
TK sighs as he hoops his arms through the hoodie’s sleeves. As much as he doesn’t want to admit it, Carlos is right. He’s going to need help for a few days, and even more so when they’re back in Austin. He can already hear his father’s voice in his head, ranting about how he needs to be more careful and fawning all over him while he’s bedridden for weeks on end.
“Fine,” he relents. “But I want to make it clear that it’s against my will.”
“Duly noted,” Carlos huffs out, helping him finish dressing up. “Now, you’re good to go. Let me wheel you out of here.”
TK nods absent-mindedly as he sits down — not without effort — on the wheelchair. Suddenly, his mind is full of angry thoughts about himself — about how he keeps messing things up. This time it’s just his knee, and it seems to have a solution, but before this injury he’s always found a way to ruin everything. Getting shot by a kid, stomping over Carlos' heart, overdosing. He hasn’t been able to do anything right — except for keeping Carlos by his side for almost a year of official relationship — and he’s beginning to think that, rather than being cursed, he’s most probably not made to be fully happy.
“Hey, TK, what’s wrong?” Carlos asks as they reach the doors. TK shakes his head furiously, dabbing at his eyes to wipe unwelcome tears away. “Are you in pain? Why are you crying?”
“I just—” TK inhales deeply, steadying himself for what he’s about to say. “Why don’t you go first and hail a cab? If you wait for me, I’ll slow you down and we’ll never get a cab in this city.”
Carlos arches an eyebrow at him in silence, assessing the situation in the same way TK has seen him do with potential criminals — his eyes darken a little and his mouth twitches, exactly the way it did the night they had their little heart-to-heart at the precinct after TK’s stint at the bar. He purses his lips and then, he says, “Where’s all this nonsense coming from, TK? I’m not going ahead to hail a cab. You’re coming with me.”
“But I just—”
“This isn’t just about the knee injury, is it?” Carlos asks, not unkindly. He stops the wheelchair just shy of the curb, and crouches until he’s looking TK in the eye. “Whatever you’re thinking, TK, you have to know it’s just your head playing games with you. The pain can do that, sometimes.”
“It’s not the pain, Carlos! It’s the truth. I can’t walk properly. It’s going to be weeks until I’m back up again. I will just slow you down.”
“Why do I have a feeling you’re talking about much more than this?” Carlos repeats, gesturing towards TK’s leg. “Talk to me, TK.”
TK lets out a groan and hides his face in his hands before speaking, his words muffled by the flesh covering his mouth. “I just keep ruining everything. I just keep holding back the people I love and that’s just not fair!”
It isn’t until Carlos pries his hands off his face and TK can have a look at those brown eyes that he realizes what he’s just said.
They haven’t said those words to each other yet — even if TK is sure Carlos is bursting with the need to just speak them into life — and isn’t that another way in which TK is slowing them down, slowing Carlos down.
“You love me,” Carlos smiles at him, a hint of awe in his words. “How could you say that you ruin everything, that you’re slowing me down, when you’re the first to say I love you? That isn’t slowing anything down, by definition.”
“I just—” TK groans again, this time resting his head on Carlos’ shoulder. He isn’t comfortable at all, but the heat radiating off his boyfriend and the softness of his hoodie on Carlos are a soothing to the ache in his soul that he hasn’t been able to tame until now.
“I love you too,” Carlos says confidently. “This is exactly what I wanted to have in my life, TK.”
“What, an idiot boyfriend who can’t even go to the bathroom without dislocating a knee?”
“No, silly,” Carlos shakes with nadly suppressed laughter that makes TK tremble in mirth as well. “Having someone to love me back, the way you love me.”
“And how’s that?” TK manages to say cheekily, unable to keep up with the seriousness and heaviness of the conversation — he always resorts to jokes and lewd when it feels too hard to breathe.
“Fully,” Carlos replies, moving so he can look TK in the eye. “Completely. Shamelessly. Irretrievably. The same way I love you.”
There’s a fire in Carlos’ words and a sureness in his gaze that renders TK speechless. He can just barely nod, gulping around the lump in his throat that has taken all the space without asking for permission first.
Carlos clears his throat and kisses TK on the side of his neck, a fleetly peck of lips on skin that sends shivers down TK’s spine. It’s his favorite spot to be kissed on — despite his antics and his complaints, TK loves being vulnerable with Carlos, and he revels in the fact that Carlos knows exactly where to touch him to make him feel taken care of.
To make him feel loved.
“Okay, time to go back to the hotel and call your dad,” Carlos tells him, standing up.
“But I don’t want to!”
“I can do it for you,” Carlos offers. “You just have to lie down on the bed, and I’ll take the brunt of your father’s wrath.”
“I can think of some other ways to spend the time while I’m lying on that bed,” TK suggests, wiggling his eyebrows. Carlos laughs and takes his hand to help him up the wheelchair, intertwining his fingers. “Tons of things to do that don’t need my full range of movement.”
“You’re going to be the death of me, TK Strand.”
TK nods swiftly as he lifts their joined hands and drops a kiss on the back of Carlos’ hand. “Good,” he mutters. “Because I plan to be here, with you, until that very moment, Carlos Reyes.”
Carlos smiles softly at him, dragging him up closer to his body, and as they wait together for the cab to halt beside them, TK thinks that they’re going to be fine. That he’s going to be fine, because he’s finally not alone.
their reaction to the tiktok message filter trend | toman boys (Mikey, Draken, Baji, Kazutora, Chifuyu, Mitsuya, Hakkai, Smiley, Angry, Takemichi)
warnings: fluff, cussing, empty threats.
synopsis: you and him are hanging out together and you decide to prank him. you use the filter that makes it look like you’ve received a message, then show him. “Hey, look at this filter!” and then the fake message you wrote pops up, seeming as though it came from someone else. it reads, “hey babe. u free later? let’s link up. lemme know when your boyfriend leaves 😉”
song: i.f.l.y by bazzi
MIKEY → pissed. all pouty and wide-eyed as he stares you, having grabbed the arm you’re using to hold your phone because how fucking dare you. “babe, really?” he releases you and turns away, going back to his phone and sitting in huffy silence.
he waits a bit before turning back to you with a pitiful expression. “...are you cheating on me?” he pauses, lower lip wobbling just a lil’. “...be honest.”
tell him it’s a prank right now or he WILL cry.
DRAKEN → would just stare at you, partially offended, partially annoyed. “stop playin’ with me,” he’d say. if you try to hide the message from him, he’d grab you by the arm and look at the screen to make sure he read it right. then, he would just sit there, mad as hell about the whole thing. sucking his teeth and all.
actually super mad. would say something along the lines of, “like I won’t fuck you up.” oop—
BAJI → laughs it off. because what loser thinks they stand a chance in taking you away from him? would definitely clown you for it. but he is lowkey insecure and would stop chuckling for a second just to look you dead in the eye and ask if you’re cheating on him.
“don’t lie to me,” he’d mumble, fangs digging into his lower lip as he tries not to lose his cool. “this better be some kind of fuckin’ joke.”
KAZUTORA → will probably smack your phone out of your hand and then snatch it up before you can reach it. he will read the message over at least three times before he looks up at you like he wants an explanation.
“don’t you have anything to say for yourself?” he pauses, waiting for your response. but you’re so busy choking back laughter that you can’t respond. he gets upset really quickly, “say something!”
he’s hurt asf though. his eyes might get a lil’ glossy.
CHIFUYU → annoyed. like he gets all pouty, and just crosses his arms. trying to stare you down despite the lump forming his throat. “really, (y/n)?”
he gets a bit choked up, blinking fast as he scrunches up his face, eyes stinging. “you serious?”
probably starts mumbling under his breath about how mean you are. he starts flipping through the pages of his manga to keep his mind off how he is literally about to cry.
... you’re breaking his heart… apologize 🔫
MITSUYA → laughs.
“I’ve seen this trend!” he gets a lil’ excited, knowing that there’s no way you cheated on him. you’re kind of disappointed because the prank didn’t work at all and he notices immediately. he tugs you closer by the wrist and presses a kiss to your cheek, trying not to laugh as he notices the faint pout on your lips.
“sorry, did I ruin it?”
cheeky mf’er. 😒 you can’t blame him though. he’s just happy to know you’re loyal.
HAKKAI → another crybaby.
don’t play with him like that. he’s ✨ sensitive ✨
he tries not to cry. but when he reads over the message and then looks at you, his chin immediately starts to wobble and his eyes sting.
“who’s that?” he asks, quietly. looking at you with the most pitiable eyes in the world. and you start to laugh. he grabs you by the wrist and shakes your arm weakly as he bites his lip, blinking fast to keep his tears at bay. “you’re not serious, are you? this is a joke, right?”
SMILEY → will beat you up. just kidding... ahaha...
no, I’m not. 😃
he is practically forcing his smile as he asks you who that was. you try to shrug him off and say it’s no one, turning your phone away so that he can’t see. but then he grabs your phone, holding it out of your reach as he asks you again. “who is it, hm? lemme see!”
wrestles your phone out of your hand and takes his sweet time reading over the message. then, he looks at you, smile disappearing completely. he doesn’t find it funny.
tell him it’s a prank right now or he’ll genuinely be hurt asf.
might try to press the message and reply only to realize that it’s a filter and you’re pranking him. he’s relieved and pissed simultaneously. like, yeah. you’re not cheating on him but what made you think you could prank him like that?
ANGRY → y’all already know not to play with this man like that.
he quietly asks you who that was. you shrug, acting like you don’t know what he’s talking about. he asks again, voice trembling just a lil’ and you can’t help but to blurt out that it’s a prank.
he was really about to turn into the Orge. don’t play with him like that! 🗣️
TAKEMICHI → gets really quiet.
he purses his lips, sneaking glances at you as you pull your phone away. but he already saw the message. his stomach sinks as he thinks you’re cheating on him for sure.
he doesn’t even say anything. he kind of just sits there and waits for you to say something. but when you don’t, he takes it upon himself.
“...you cheating on me?” you can tell his voice is straining, thick with emotion. and when you start to laugh, he just frowns. like it’s not funny 😐 only when you explain the prank does he nod numbly, turning away and mumbling about how mean you are.
their reaction to chubby!reader being made fun of for their weight | Draken, Mistuya, Akkun
warnings: fluff, kisses.
anon said: “hi are you comfortable with writing a plus sized reader and if so could i request how draken, mitsuya and akkun would react to someone making fun of her because of her size? i understand if you aren't comfortable with this but thank you if you write it”
song: none.
photo cred (left to right): 1 3
Draken → “Watch your mouth, man.” Draken invaded their personal space, towering above them as he stared them down. A smug smirk appears on his face, his tongue sliding over his lower lip. “Don’t talk about her like that.”
“Or what?” The person replies, attempting to come off as unafraid. But you can tell by the slight quiver of their voice that they are nervous as hell and regretting their decision to speak to you that way.
“Listen,” Draken says, bending at the waist so that his mouth nears their ear. He lowers his voice to a whisper, his large hand latching onto their shoulder. “Don’t fucking talk about her like that. ‘Cause you know what’ll happen, jackass.”
That certainly scared them off. Afterwards, Draken tugged you into his arms, his hands gliding over the curves of your body. You, on the other hand, are mumbling about how he “didn’t have to be so mean” and how you could defend yourself. To which he replies with a chuckle and a couple of kisses to your face.
“Don’t listen to ‘em, babe.” He says, pressing another kiss to your cheek. He smiles, beginning to tease you about how beautiful he finds you.
Anything he heard them talking shit about is getting extra love. They said your thighs were too big, he’s kissing those thick thighs of yours. They said your hips were too wide, he’s hugging those gorgeous hips of yours. They said your tummy’s not cute, Draken will not—and I repeat, will not—shut up about how cute he finds your tummy for the rest of the day.
He’ll be sure to show you lots of love.
Mitsuya → “Oh, fuck off.” He spat at them, grabbing you by the wrist and tugging you away from them. His face scrunched up, eyes narrowing and mouth pulled back into a snarl. “Keep your nasty opinion to yourself.”
Everyone cleared the way for you and him as he pulled you through the crowd. Soon enough, you both stumbled across a more secluded area. But he had yet to release you. Subconsciously, he clutched onto you too tightly, causing you to make a small noise of discomfort.
“Oh! Sorry.” Mitsuya mumbled, jolting back immediately. He crossed his arms, teeth nibbling at his lower lip. Glancing up at you from behind his lashes, he sighed heavily. “Sorry, I just—don’t listen to ‘em, okay? They dunno what they’re talking about.”
You finally worked up the courage to say what had been weighing heavy on your mind. “But Takashi,” your voice is quiet as you glance at the ground, playing with your fingers to avoid his gaze. “What if… what if they were right—”
“Ah.” He cuts you off, his expression bemused as he pulls you into his arms. “As if. Like I said, they don’t know what they’re talking about.”
You try to combat his words, but he won’t entertain it. Instead, he chooses to praise you over and over until your resistance falters.
“I love your body because it’s yours, sweetheart.” He says, swaying you in his embrace, pressing kisses to your face every now and then. “And how dare they talk about my girl?”
Before you can respond, he’s peppering kisses all over your face, forcing laughter from your lips. His hands cupping your chin so that you can’t run away from his affection. And he’s laughing right along with you as he presses a final kiss to your nose.
But what you don’t catch is the furrowing of his brows, his lips tugging down. He mulled over the appearance of the person, committing their stupid face to memory so that he’d know who to make miserable if they ever crossed paths again.
Akkun → He forces a smile, eyes squeezing into crescents. False laughter falling from his lips as he clutches his stomach as though their insult is the funniest thing he has ever heard. But once he sobers up, his laughter comes to a halt and eerie silence follows.
“C’mon,” he drags out. “Apologize. It’s not that hard, is it?”
“Atsushi, s’fine.” You mumble under your breath, tugging at his arm. “Let’s just go, okay—”
“It’s not okay.” He grasped the shoulder of the person, his dull nails digging into their skin. His smile gradually disappearing, eyes blank as he stared at them. “Apologize, bastard.”
You are given your apology promptly and Akkun makes them repeat it until he is satisfied. Then, he kicks them in the ass as they walk off, and mumbles about how they’ll have a serious problem if he ever sees their dumbass face again.
You purse your lips, fixing him with a harsh glare. And he crumples under your gaze, sheepishly bowing his head and muttering an apology.
“I told you ‘let’s just go.’” You grumble, only half heartedly upset. You appreciate him defending you, but you thought the person wasn’t worth his or your time. “Why’d you have to make a big deal out of it?”
“Sorry! M’sorry! It’s just—” he pauses, a smug smirk on his face as he raises his eyebrows in a goofy manner. You knew that face. He was about to try and distract you by making you smile, you could just feel it. You sigh in feigned annoyance, trying to turn away from him before he can catch a glimpse of your oncoming grin.
“Hey! No, no, no, no,” he pulls you back towards him, marvelling at your smile. “Lemme see.” He teases, tilting your chin to get a better look at your face.
“See?” He says, eyes racking over every inch and curve of your body. “Aren’t you a little too pretty to be taking shit from anyone else? And god, look at those hips.” He pretends to wipe drool from his chin and only smiles wider when he succeeds at making you laugh.
“There we go,” he mutters to himself, cheeks starting to ache as he forces himself not to smile so much. “That’s what I like to see.”
