#maybe i will put in headphones NOW so the silence does not overwhelm me. the only problem with being here for full days alone at work is. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

storiesforallfandoms · 3 years

Text

inspirational ~ corpse husband

word count: 1589

request?: yes!

“Hi! I was wondering if you could do a corpse husband imagine where the reader has a feeding tube? If you can’t that’s perfectly fine, I just haven’t been able to find one yet.”

description: in which the group plays with a popular streamer that has a feeding tube and corpse tells her how much she inspires him

pairing: corpse x female!reader

warnings: swearing, mentions of chronic pain and cancer, also i only know a little bit about feedings tubes, i tried to do research in order to make myself more familiar but if there’s a lot of inaccuracies or anything i am very sorry i’m gonna try my best

masterlist (one, two)

Corpse listened to his friends shouting at one another to accuse each other of being sus. As usual, there was no use in trying to get a word in. Corpse spoke so softly that no one would even hear him unless they wanted to hear what he was saying.

“(Y/N)!” Toast suddenly exclaimed. “You’re being very quiet right now.”

“Because my damn tube is mixed up in my headphone wires!” (Y/N) exclaimed, sounding like she was far away from her mic. The group chuckled and continued with their conversation about who they thought the imposter was.

(Y/N) was a known Twitch streamer and YouTuber that rose to popularity when she started a series on her YouTube channel to show her journey through cancer treatments. Long before his own sudden boom in popularity, Corpse had watched all of her videos and became invested in her Twitch streams as well. Being someone who also struggled with chronic illness and pain, Corpse felt a sense of hope watching (Y/N) go through her treatment and still seem to optimistic in life and so productive in her YouTube and Twitch channels.

When Toast messaged the Amigops group to ask if anyone wanted to join his Among Us lobby with (Y/N), Corpse jumped at the chance. He hadn’t had much time to speak with her alone, but he was hoping to be able to tell her how much watching her content lifted him up during his worst times.

The meeting ended with no one being voted and brought them back to the office of the Polus map. Since they were playing with proximity chat, the argument from the meeting immediately continued with Rae and Toast warning everyone to stay away from Sean, who they were susing at the second imposter after already voting out Charlie.

Corpse watched (Y/N)’s pink astronaut run out of the office, silent amongst the chaos. He waited a moment before deciding to follow her, hoping he could meet her somewhere alone so he could talk to her.

He ran into O2 and noticed a pink bean in the boiler room stood by the water wheels. He ran in and stood in the doorway a moment before speaking.

“Hello (Y/N).”

“Ah fuck!” (Y/N) exclaimed. “Corpse! Don’t scare me like that!”

Corpse chuckled. “Sorry, I’ll warn you next time.”

“Are you here to kill me?”

“Maybe.”

“I’m okay with that. I feel like being killed by Corpse Husband in Among Us is like a rite of passage at this point.”

Corpse slowly approached (Y/N) to which she quickly ran away from him to the other water wheel. He laughed again before assuring her, “I’m not an imposter, you can trust me.”

“I don’t think I can, but I will choose to trust,” she told him.

“I actually came looking for you because I wanted to talk to you.”

“What did you want to talk about?”

There were so many things running through Corpse’s mind. He just wanted to blurt out everything he had thought about (Y/N) and her story, to thank her for giving him hope, to tell her what an inspiration she was. But his words caught in his throat and he struggled to get anything out.

Finally, he said, “What’s it like trying to be a streamer with your...with the um...”

“The feeding tube?” (Y/N) finished for him. “You can say it, Corpse. It’s not exactly a secret.”

He sighed, glad that she had a joking tone about it. “Yeah, with the feeding tube.”

“It’s annoying,” (Y/N) admitted. “Like...I’m assuming you’ve seen my streams or my videos but for the sake of anyone watching your stream who hasn’t: I have a nasogastric feeding tube, or an NG-tube, which is a feeding tube that goes in through the nose. As cliché as it is, just picture Hazel Grace from the Fault in our Stars. Additional cliché, I have it because I had cancer and the treatments left me so malnourished that I need a feeding tube even after I’ve gone into remission. So, because it’s tubes that are connected in my nose, I keep getting my headphone wires tangled in my tube or, very rarely, my mic wires, and it’s fucking annoying. It hurts like a bitch when I go to stand up and I yank the wires by accident or something.”

“Does...does anything else hurt? Because of the cancer or the treatment or anything?”

“Not as much as it used to. I went into remission like nearly a year ago, so I’m doing better. It’s a process, but it’s had an amazing outcome in the end so I wouldn’t change a thing.”

“I find you really inspirational,” Corpse finally blurted.

He felt his face heat up with slight embarrassment as (Y/N) giggled. “You do?”

“Yeah. I followed your series about your recovery and I’ve watched some of your livestreams every now and then. What always stood out to me was when you talked about the negative side effects of your treatment, and eventually having to put the feeding tube in and how you’ve found that effects you, too. Being someone with chronic illness and constant pain, I’ve also had those days where it feels like even getting out of bed is too much work and I don’t feel like I can stream or make a video, but then my anxiety tells me that everyone is going to forget about me if I don’t make some type of content, so it’s just an internal struggle when really I should be resting.”

“Being a content creator and having an illness is tough,” (Y/N) agreed. “It feels like you can’t take a day off. I sometimes regret making that series because on days that I felt absolutely awful, I didn’t want to film or edit anything, but I felt like I had to because so many people were watching. Ironically enough, that became the topic of one of those videos; I just sat in front of my camera looking the worst I think I’ve ever looked on camera and talked about how exhausted I felt just from being alive, but felt like I couldn’t rest because of my channel. That’s when I started taking longer breaks between videos and streaming. Your fans won’t leave you, not the true fans anyways. They’ll always be by your side even if you decide to disappear from the Internet forever.”

Corpse half smiled to himself. “I’ve thought about doing that sometimes.”

“It’ll be easy for you to do that where you’re faceless. No one would bother you even after you left the Internet cause they’d have no idea it was you unless you spoke.”

A brief pause in their conversation caused them to hear Sean yelling as he ran past the room. (Y/N) giggled and walked out of the room. Corpse followed, hoping to continue the conversation somewhere else.

“It means a lot to me that you think that about me, though,” (Y/N) continued as she ran into the storage room. “I find you pretty inspirational too.”

This took Corpse by surprise. He didn’t know how to respond. Sure, he heard that all the time from his fans, and it always meant the world to him to know that people found him to be an inspiration, but it felt different to hear that from someone he had looked up to for so long.

“I wish I could’ve been a faceless creator like you,” she said when Corpse didn’t respond. “One of my biggest regrets is probably showing my face online. Although, it wouldn’t make sense for me not to show my face when I’m making a series about cancer treatment, but people can be mean. Even when someone is struggling with illness or a disease, the Internet doesn’t care. Whatever makes them feel better over someone else feeling like shit.”

“I still get a lot of hateful messages even though I’m faceless, though.”

“You do, but you’re so unbothered by it. Publicly anyways. When I get messages about how sickly I look I get so overwhelmed with sadness and I just wanna delete my channel forever. I can’t even fake not caring because it really does effect me.”

“Stick with me, I’ll teach you my ways. My favorite is trolling the troll.”

(Y/N) chuckled. “I’d like that a lot.”

Corpse watched (Y/N)’s pink bean approach his black one. “I’m glad we had this chat, Corpse. It made me really happy, but now it also makes doing this a lot harder.”

Corpse gasped as a kill animation popped up on the screen and (Y/N)’s astronaut quickly disappeared into the nearby vent. He was stunned into silence for a long time, just watching his ghost floating above his dead body. To make matters worse, (Y/N) had closed the door to storage so no one would find his body unless they had to go in there.

Charlie’s ghost floated through the walls and came to float next to Corpse’s. “Figured out Jack wasn’t the other imposter, huh?”

“Yeah,” Corpse said, laughing. “She really had me fooled. Buttered me up with compliments then killed me.”

“I taught her well,” Charlie comments before floating away again.

Corpse couldn’t help but laugh about the situation. He wasn’t mad, more impressed than anything. And he was a little happy; he got to talk to someone that had always been an inspiration to him and he made a new friend.

#corpse husband #corpse husband imagine #corpse husband x reader #corpse #corpse imagine #corpse x reader #imagine #one shot #request #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom

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realcube · 3 years

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CARNIVAL DATE WITH TENDOU

choose-a-date ♡ choose love! — 2k event ♡ @giveitallyougotbuddy

tw: swearing & no beta

instructions: for each decision you make, you will be given points. at the end, tally your points and click on the links at the end to view your results! everything in red bold is a question for the reader

The carnival was packed. waiting patiently, you sat perched at the end of a bench, trying your best to avoid the ketchup smeared on the seat beside you, slurping your slushy while absently staring into the masses, observing the idle chaos.

Distant screams could be heard from the rides surrounding, as if that didn’t clog your senses enough, the blinding lights piercing through the night had you squinting and was on the verge of causing you a migraine. Noise-cancelling headphones or a blueberry slushy couldn’t save you; all you wanted to do was leave. Bored out of your mind amidst the overwhelming atmosphere.

Until, it all went dark.

Cold yet soft palms were pressed over your eyes, shielding your vision as warm breath tickled your ear, “Guess who?”

> “My love!” ♡ 3 points

> “Tendou!” ♡ 3 points

> “Ushijima!” ♡ 2 points

> “God!” ♡ 2 points

> “No clue.” ♡ 1 point

A warm chuckle erupted from behind you; the hands parting from your eyes to reveal an upside-down tendou hanging in front of your face, his loud smile immediately filling you with joy, “It’s me!” He chirped, swiftly taking a seat beside you but only swinging one leg over the bench so he could face you and press his forehead against your own.

“Sorry I’m late, I got caught up back there.” He gestured in the direction the entrance, where you was lined with booths which you could hardly resist yourself, so you couldn’t blame Tendou for getting a bit distracted too.

“It’s fine, you’re here now.” You shrugged while pulling away from his touch slightly so you could continue drinking your slushy, casually offering him some too and laughing as he eagerly snatched the cup from your had and took a sip.

Then, he pulled it away from his lips with a refreshed ‘ah’, handing it back to you with cheesy grin, “Thank you.” He paused, throwing off his backpack and bringing it on to his lap, unzipping it then staring at you with anticipation, “Alright, guess what I won you.”

You felt heat rise to your cheeks, the surrounding, flashy rides suddenly becoming more interesting as you couldn’t bring yourself to meet his crimson eyes, “You didn’t have to do that.”

“But I did.” He cooed, shaking his bag and considering the incomprehensible rattling noise to be a ‘hint’ as to what’s inside, “C’mon, guess what I won, just for you.”

Your unwavering blank expression was enough to prompt him to elaborate, “It’s a plushie of an animal that reminds me of you!”

> “A tiger!” ♡ 3 points

> “A bear!” ♡ 3 points

> “A bunny!” ♡ 2 points

> “A panda!” ♡ 2 points

> “A chicken!” ♡ 1 point

Tendou blinked a few times before bursting out into laughter, slowly revealing the plushie with a shaky arm, the inner corners of his eyes already beginning to glisten in amusement. “I—”

He stuttered, and you weren’t sure what was so entertaining about your answer, until you saw the plushie. Hello Kitty holding a cupcake.

“I probably should’ve mentioned that it wasn’t real.” He wheezed, struggling to pry his eyes open and watch as you scooped the item from his hands, admiring it with a concentrated look; the sparkle in your eyes causing the tips of his ears to redden.

“I mean, cats are real.” You pointed out, absently squishing the kitty’s soft cheek with your finger; the sight was oddly amusing, however maybe that was due to the fact you were too tired to deal with anything else.

The time you spent alone in the booming crowd had evidently drained you, but Tendou going out of his way to win you something, proved your waiting to be worth it; you couldn’t express how much appreciated him, but you could try. “Thank you so much, Satori.”

Even when you turned to smile at him, with his chin resting against his palm, his lovesick gaze never faltered; neither did his gentle smile, as he cooed, “Do you like it?”

> “Obviously! It’s so cute!” ♡ 3 points

> “Of course, but I feel like I need to win you something now.” ♡ 3 points

> “Yeah, I love it!” ♡ 2 points

> “Yep, you know me so well.” ♡ 2 points

> “I’m not sure.” ♡ 1 point

Tendou simply nodded, taking the plushie from your hand and placing it back in his bag for safekeeping.

“Careful!” He laughed at your exclamation, making sure to zip it up extra slowly as if that was going to make a difference to Hello Kitty’s wellbeing. Once it was secured in his backpack, he slung it back over his shoulders, “I’ll give it back to you before we leave.”

There was a moment of silence between both of you while Tendou’s attention seemed to fray from his previous fixation on your lips, hence you followed his gaze to see multiple bags of cotton candy — of various sizes — hanging from the edges of what looked to be a ring toss stall.

From the corner of your eye, you could see Tendou opening his mouth to speak but before it could reach your ears, you had already darted off in the direction of the stall with a mischievous smirk painted on your face; one would think you were about to cheat, but no, you were just proud of the fact you could finally win your boyfriend something.

Upon approaching the stall, you slammed the crumpled game ticket which had been pushed down to the depths of your pockets, onto the counter. Allowing the worker to exchange it for a small, plastic ring.

Preparing to throw, you leaned back and curled your dominant arm round your body, assuming that would provide it with more power. Your eyes fluttered shut as you took a deep breath, the stress of the carnival melting off your body and leaving warmth in its place.

Just as you were about to step forward to through your first ring, a scream was ripped from your throat in response to feeling hot breath against your ear; a eerily mellow voice muttering, “What’re you doing, babe?”

All the warmth rushed to your cheeks, not only from embarrassment, but also how close Tendou was, for a split second.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” You panted, placing your hand over your chest in attempt to calm your heartbeat, “I’m trying to win you that candyfloss.”

Tendou let out an elongated ‘oh’ of realisation as he stepped aside, giving you more room to practise your throwing technique, “Sorry for interrupting, carry on.” He sung with sickeningly sweet smile which you couldn’t stay mad at, even if you tried.

You huffed out through your nose and shut your eyes once again, attempting to find your zen while crossing your arm over your chest in order to put enough force into the throw. After stabilising your breathing, you pried one eyes open to observe the options laid before you.

There were three rows of sticks; the farthest ones obviously being worth the most points, hence able to win you the largest bag of candy floss with the singular ring you had. However, the number of sticks in a row also decreased along a greater distance, hence it would be less risky to aim for the closer sticks.

Which one will you aim for?

> The farthest away stick ♡ 3 points

> The stick in the middle ♡ 2 points

> The closest stick ♡ 1 point

Surprisingly, the ring followed the exact course you sent it on, leading to it landing perfectly around the stick you aimed for; which left the worker looking almost as stunned as you, meanwhile Tendou was simply dancing, free cotton candy!

“You did it!” He cheered, shooting you a cheesy grin while being handed the bag of cotton candy, of a size in relation to how many points you won. But regardless of how large it was, Tendou simply appreciated the fact you went out of your way to win it for him.

One of his hands dipped into the plastic bag to take bites of the candy, while the other clutched the item in his back pocket; he was certain he wasn’t going to regret this.

“So,” He almost stuttered, fidgeting with the strap of his bag, “Can I take you somewhere?” His found its way into yours, gently rubbing the back of your cold hand with his thumb as he awaited your response.

“Sure, but where is ‘somewhere’?”

TALLY YOUR POINTS

4–7

8–12

#tendou fluff #tendou scenario #haikyuu tendou #tendou x reader #hq tendou #tendou x you #💗choose-a-date #💗choose love!

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julyarchives · 3 years

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Tendae (텐데) || (M) Teach Me pt.4

You realized that Wooseok is the one person that can bring you comfort whenever you two are together, and the holiday spent alone with him only intensified the tingly feeling inside that scares you so much.

→ Pairing: Wooseok x Reader

→ Genre: Smut

→ Words: 4.5K

→ Contains: Smut; Friends To Lovers; Virgin!Wooseok; fingering; there is a small anxiety attack at the beginning; lots of touches; conflicted feelings

→ A/n: So, this chapter incorporates 2 requests that have been recently sent to us, thank you so much to the people who've done it, it was really nice to imagine Wooseok in these situations and turns out we are a sucker for him (can you blame us tho?). Anyway, we hope you guys like it! (Also, yes, the title is inspired by Bobby's song, because that has GOT to be their theme song, it's perfect)

→ Index: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

You tried to sleep, really. You put on some calming music and the tv was on to keep the room dim light but it was no use. Tossing and turning in bed was something that became a habit after you had to deal with your life choices. You got yourself in a really tiring situation, between babysitting your best friends and dealing with two simultaneous educational courses, you barely had time alone to just relax. To make it worse, the rain started to pour heavily outside and you sighed, it was only a matter of time for the nightmare to begin. Sometimes even you forgot how scared you were of thunder and storms, they didn't occur often and when it rained, it was light but you just knew that an anxiety attack was on the way when the first loud thunder resonated. Covering your head with the blanket, you sank into the mattress and wished for it to go away. There was only so much you could deal with by sighing and wishing for the best. The noises got louder and the light music was no longer catching your ears, tears now threatening to fall and your fear only growing bigger. It seemed like a couple of minutes went by you figured, even though it felt like hours to you and there was no sign of the storm stopping. A somehow even louder bang caught your attention and you jumped, how the hell did it thunder inside your room?

"Y/N?", a desperate whisper was heard by the door and you cautiously peeked from under the covers. Wooseok was standing by the door with a pillow under his arm and his hand holding his chest as if to catch his breath. "I was asleep, the thunder woke me up. Sorry it took me so long to come", he said, still whispering, maybe to not scare you even more.

You nodded without being able to speak, you just knew the tears would fall if you tried. Wooseok closed the door behind him and even jumped lightly when another thunder filled the room. That spurred him on, quickly moving to gently pry the blanket from your head and you scooted over, making room for him, only to have him settle quickly with his own pillow and pull the covers back up, covering both of your heads. He smiled sweetly at you and opened his arms in invitation, one which you gladly accepted. The moment your head was against his chest you cried, feeling protected like this after the overwhelmed fear you felt so strongly was too much and you felt Wooseok hugging you stronger. Your small sobs were barely audible because of the thunder but you knew he felt how your body moved as you cried and you were thankful he just hugged you in silence. You heard him hum to some tune and you wondered if he could hear the music you had put to sleep.

"Y/N?", Wooseok called you and you moved your head back to look at his face, "are you still crying?", as he asked it, you let out a sniff, making you both chuckle.

"Does that answer you?", your voice wasn't sounding normal and even then you knew it was okay because he understood it.

"I remember when I didn't get much screen time at a tv show and you found me crying in my room…".

You remembered that. It was at the beginning of the friendship, he was reserved and shy but when they guys showed up looking awkward and Wooseok just walked past everyone, you had to follow him. He was under the covers and you heard the small whimpers of crying and you didn't think twice, your instinct told you to slip into the mattress with him, you laid down to watch a wide-eyed Wooseok who was sniffing and trying to control his crying. You understood how he must have felt, not good enough because the editing and the hosts ignored him almost completely. You needed to show him he was so much more than that but he was too reserved for you to know what to do, so you just held him and he quickly hid his face in your neck and cried until he fell asleep. Since that you always shared a bed and got so much closer.

"I remember that too", you said, your crying slowing down. "I'm glad you let me stay that day". He sighed, holding you closer.

"I'm glad too". He shyly kissed the top of your head and went back to humming a song. Paying attention to the vibration of his chest and his warmth, you soon fell asleep even as it still poured outside.

Waking up was the hardest part since it was a while that you slept so well. Moving a bit you noticed that the blanket was no longer covering your head but Wooseok was still next to you, hand-holding close by the waist. He was soundly asleep and you sighed, torn between wanting to stay with him and needing to start your day. The struggle didn't last long as you needed to go to the bathroom, so you wiggled a bit so he could let go of you but you ended up being pulled closer against him, his hand possessive around you. He groaned in his sleep, displeased that you were moving and you chuckled silently, now taking his hand in yours to move it away from you. For a second you let your fingers intertwine and you smiled, a warmth you knew all too well invading your chest but as always, you decided to ignore it and move away.

The house was abnormally quiet and you did your morning hygiene quickly and surprisingly in peace. After choosing a comfortable slip-on dress, you got into the kitchen which was also weirdly empty. Usually, at least one person was rummaging around for snacks and you made sure to look around to search for any of the boys. As you made your favorite breakfast food and drink, you noticed the fridge covered in small notes in all different colors and shapes, each of them from one of the boys letting you and Wooseok know that they'd be out. Some would be traveling since it was a holiday, others would be visiting their families and you frowned, you didn't even know it was a holiday, studies were taking up most of your time and all you knew was your deadlines. Opening the group chat for the house, that featured all the boys, you typed a quick text wishing them a good holiday break and resumed eating.

After finishing, you slightly debated if you should go to your own home to study but with a sigh and a shy amused smile, you got up and went to the empty room they reserved for you so you grab your notebook. The boys going to the army was something not very pleasant but at least you got a bed and a room to yourself, lucky two of them went almost together.

You got inside quietly and tiptoed around the bed so as to not wake up the giant asleep on the bed, his feet almost completely out of it. Your backpack was at reach and you took it with you as silent as you could. With your back turned to the bed, you made sure to look twice to see if you forgot anything.

"Tell me you made breakfast", a raspy sleepy voice resonated behind you. You jumped and your backpack almost flew away from your hands.

"Don't do that, Wooseok! Warn me before talking!", he laughed at that, arm resting on his face.

"Sure, I'll squeak before talking so you don't get scared", he was fully laughing and you watched him fondly.

"Shut up", you slightly pouted and he sat upon the bed, moving so you could almost stand between his knees. "There is breakfast but I should eat it myself for that".

"I just woke up, Y/N. Give me a break", he smiled and gosh, wasn't he charming, hair all messy, voice deep from sleep, made you remember all the times you two shared touches, your cheeks feeling warm.

As if sensing where your mind was going, Wooseok slowly moved his arms and placed his hands on your waist, barely touching it. Your first answer was to drop the backpack and place your hands on his shoulders, moving closer. When he stretched his upper body, your body knew what to do before you even registered the action. You moved lower and your foreheads touched, such an intimate touch and yet so innocent. Both of you whispered good morning shyly and like waking up from a dream you almost flinched away, grabbing your things from the floor and clearing your throat.

"There's food ready. I'm gonna study, alright?", he nodded a bit stunned by your sudden change. "Everyone is away and it's just the two of us today", and with that, you walked away.

The morning went by without a single problem, you focused on your studies while Wooseok watched something with headphones or just played on his phone. Your only breaks were bathroom breaks and you were almost certain that you wouldn't even drink water if Wooseok didn't leave a bottle there every half hour.

Lunchtime came and you got up your chair to stretch and rummage through your phone, sitting next to Wooseok. Part of you noticed how there was a full empty large couch and two chairs available but you still sat on the two-seat couch thigh to thigh with him. You shook your head physically to get rid of these thoughts and quickly opened the food delivery app, nudging Wooseok to check it with you.

It wasn't a hard task to decide on lunch since you two knew what you liked and soon enough the food arrived. The small chit-chat was alien even to you and part of you knew that it was because you fled his embrace earlier. That scared you because even though you started whatever you two have it shouldn't be affecting you this much. Of course, he was your best friend and you knew everything about each other, and yeah, knowing a girl at work was coming onto Wooseok was bothering you and staying alone with him like this made you nervous like never before but hey, if you ran away it'd go away sometime, right?

After eating, Wooseok took care of the dishes and you laid on the big couch, closing your eyes for a moment to at least pretend everything was normal. After a few minutes of you being completely still, you felt a presence in the room and then the external lights went missing and the dark of your closed eyes got even darker. You opened one eye and fought back a smile to see Wooseok standing and looming over you curiously.

"What", you breathed out.

"Checking if you didn't die", he seemed serious and that made you crack, sitting up while laughing hard after he stepped back and he sat next to you, his arm going to your shoulder like it was natural. Did you two always do stuff like that? You weren't even sure but you let yourself enjoy the moment for a bit before going back to reality. "Seriously, you looked dead".

"That was my soul you were seeing", you smiled at his horrified face and you held it with both hands. "I'm joking, silly. I'm just too tired". Without thinking straight, the impulse to feel the moment was too strong and you left a peck on his mouth, quick and yet it made a small sound. "Gonna go study", you rushed over your words, getting up like a lightning bolt and running to the table. If you looked back, you could see a blush spreading on his face, him watching you, face torn between amusement and shock.

It wasn't before three hours went by that Wooseok showed up at the table you were studying on and threw a bag of chips on it.

"Not hungry", you mumbled, a very important part of the analysis you were writing was being refined and you were so close to finishing it that you barely looked up.

The sound of the chair next to you being pulled didn't bother you, neither did the sound of a bag being open. Somehow not even Wooseok sloppily placing a chip on your mouth didn't bother you either. What did bother you was his face showing up between you and the computer screen.

"Move!", you said rather loudly. He didn't answer and moved, thankfully. Some minutes went by and the chips kept coming for which you were thankful.

As you finished writing and started proofreading what you wrote, you felt the ghost of a hand touching your thigh. You frowned and looked at him, who was casually scrolling on his phone with the hand that was away from you, even though you noticed his cheeks being red. You took a deep breath and resumed reading, only to have your thigh gently squeezed by him.

"What are you doing?", you said through your teeth. Since when does he have the nerve to touch you like that?

"I'm checking my phone", he showed you his phone, looking at you as if you were crazy and his actions were obvious.

"Wooseok, I'm busy right now".

"Oh, I know, Y/N". The hand squeezed harder and you shuddered. Shit.

You decided to see how far he could take this and honestly how far could you rest it, so you just ignored it once again. Your mind was on the verge of shutting down but you were almost finishing so you pushed forward. All the time you read, his hand went further on your thigh, reaching your pelvis but not really touching you. It was driving you mad and the way he pretended he did nothing was somehow attractive.

When you finished reading and started closing the software, his hand got braver and touched you through your panties, rubbing lightly, long fingers teasing the extension of it. The tension of his hand on you this whole time was taking all your attention and you bit your lip to not smile as you closed everything. Truth is, there was no way you could focus on anything other than Wooseok with his hand on you like that and you knew how shy he was, so you read your work as sloppy as you could, not paying attention at all, just to make him stay a bit longer.

Your back fell on the chair and you groaned, his finger insistently massaging your clit through the panties. You looked at him then, his phone forgotten on the table, his other hand gripping his pants' leg enough to turn the knuckles white. His eyes were trained on you, his mouth slightly parted and breathing irregular. He looked as affected as you were and you were the one being touched, you reached to his nape and caressed the hair gently, hoping to get to him how grateful you were for him.

The action spurred him on, his hand moving to touch you inside the panties and that got you surprised. You'd be lying if you didn't think he never looked hotter than now, the hand caressing his locks now gripping it. He groaned when he felt how wet you already were for him and moved his hand harder on your clit, getting small whimpers from you. Your hips moved on their own accord, his other hand now touching himself above the pants and you noticed.

You snapped when he flicked your clit perfectly as he gripped his member and hissed, the stimulation being too much for you. Moving fast, you got his hand away from you and straddled Wooseok fast enough to surprise him. Luckily he caught on quickly and held you, hands firm on your ass. You kissed him with fervor, hands making a mess of his hair and it almost seemed like no matter how close you were it wasn't close enough.

You moved your hips almost too desperately and he matched your rhythm, giving as good as he got and you moaned, the whole thing too hot. All the times you two had together flashed through your mind and it only spurred you further, lust overpowering anything else.

"Y/N", he whimpered as you moved just right on top of him, his hips stuttering. "We can't do this here", he panted out.

You stopped and looked at him. His eyes were dark and he was out of breath, his hands never once relenting his grip on you, his hair was a mess and his lips were red and plump from kissing. The pang on your heart almost made you back out, get up and leave but his face was watching adoringly, also lust-driven, and he started leaving small kisses on your neck. You knew you lost the fight.

"Since when you know how to be so bold?", you chuckled and he followed, the humming feeling good on your skin.

"You taught me", was his simple answer, kissing your mouth gently. "We can go to my room if you want or we can go where you're sleeping".

"Your room. It'd be too weird to do this in Jinho's and Hui's room, right?", you smiled and he answered in kind, helping you get up at once and holding your hand during the walk upstairs.

You were very nervous out of a sudden and you didn't even know why. It wasn't your first time with anyone and you knew what you were doing. You taught him after all. But when you felt his hand slightly shake when you reached the room it finally dawned on you. If things went where you felt they would, it would be the first time with him. It would be his first time when it came to actual sex.

Wooseok opened the door and waited for you to enter so he could close and lock it behind you. Even though you were alone in the house, you knew it was better to be safe than sorry here. As you expected, he was nervous and stood there looking at you with his hands on his sides. You smiled fondly, your heart taking leaps on your chest and you touched his face gently.

"It's okay. It's just me". He smiled, kissing you slowly, savoring the moment just like you were. "We don't need to do anything else, reall-"

"I want it", he cut you off eagerly. Then he laughed shyly and gave you a peck. "If you want to, that is".

"Of course I do", you felt a sudden calm wash over you, and that made sense. Not knowing where stood and now having sure he wanted this as much as you made you feel better.

You took a step back and took your dress off, leaving you in your undergarments. He did the same seconds later, standing there in his underwear. Holding his hand, you took you both to his bed and since it was a tight fit, you laid him down and sat on top of him, gently laying down to kiss him and moved with it. That seemed to ease him into it again, this was something you did before and he excitedly followed, rubbing his hard member on your clothed core.

The moans coming out of your mouth were needier than you intended but your body needed him badly and you knew he was the same. You didn't waste time getting up and losing the rest of your clothes, staying naked in front of him. You fought your own shyness back as he stood again and took off his underwear. Wooseok stared at you for a second and then smiled, kissing you tenderly and laying back on the bed. You followed and laid next to him, touching him just like the first time, him nervously watching you only this time was during broad daylight and he was more confident, his own hands traveling across your body, feeling your breasts, your stomach, your arms, everywhere he could reach.

"Do you have any condom?", you whispered.

"Yeah, top drawer". Honestly, you didn't know what answer you expected but you raised your eyebrow at him as you got up to get it.

"Can I ask?", you said coming back.

"One of the guys gave it to me when a girl at work invited me out", Wooseok answered shyly, barely looking at you.

You scoffed and straddled him, letting his cock fit on your slick slit and you moved lightly.

"Too bad you'll be using it with me, isn't it?", you said with more intensity than you expected. "I heard about this girl before", you kissed his neck teasingly, he could stare at you and hold onto your waist. "What was she thinking? That she could take you away from me?", jealousy waking over, and even you were surprised. The first time you heard about the girl you got mad but apparently it was bottled up so nicely inside you that you only noticed now.

"N-no", he stuttered as you bit his neck, hips never stopping its movement. "I kept it because I wanted to use it with you". You stopped. Did he want to do this with you? Wooseok was hoping to get you alone and go all the way with you. It was different hearing it directly from him and you were stunned. He saw it and smiled, it was his turn to kiss you, his upper body more sat up than laying down. His hand caressed your cheek and he looked deeply into your eyes. "I want you".

You could have sworn time froze and your heart stopped. He was staring so intently at you that you felt frozen, only remembering to answer when he changed from intense to doubtful and you were quick to kiss him and hoped that the kiss would tell him everything you couldn't. After you came up for air, you quickly sat next to him and put the condom on for him, which he watched attentively.

"I want you on top of me", you said in a small voice. After all you said, somehow you felt pliant, needing his proximity to deal with it.

Wooseok obliged and you quickly adjusted on his bed, his frame towering over you. Your hands were on his face, thumbs caressing it gently while he supported himself in one hand and aligned himself with the other. You nodded when he faltered, waiting for your approval. As he entered you, two things were registered by your lust hazed brain. The first one was how deliciously he stretched you, you enjoyed his dick before but now you just knew you were doomed. The second one was how lost in pleasure he already looked when he got inside inch by inch. He was dragging the movement to get inside, going slowly and you didn't think it was for you. His mouth was open and a long groan escaped him.

He looked at you a bit desperate, needing to move as quickly as you'd let him and you almost chuckled. You settled for a smile and moved your hips up, indicating he could move. He started slow, going almost completely out before thrusting inside hard. His pace was driving you mad, hands now roaming on his back while his face was buried on your chest, kissing and licking his way all over it.

You endured it as much as you could because it was so good and he seemed so lost in pleasure but it got unbearable and with a hushed "please go faster" you pleaded. Usually, you were vocal during sex but somehow you were so lost in pleasure and in feeling his body all over yours, his cock moving so perfectly inside that you seemed lost for words. Wooseok quickly changed his pace with a grunt and his noises started to come out. Your mouth was open while you tried to keep your eyes open as well but failed many times. You could see he was trying the same but more often than not he got lost in your chest or closed his eyes in pleasure.

You knew neither of you would be able to last longer and it felt like heaven to feel him getting closer to his orgasm with you, his body moving fast and him gripping the sheets while he supported himself on his upper arms. You were sure his back had a few scratches because it was just too good to know you were marking him, his noises while you did that didn't help at all. Wooseok didn't need to say anything to you. Neither you did to him, you were in sync even then and he gave you space to touch your clit, which you gladly did. He tried to warn you but he couldn't, he came with a shout mid-sentence, body trembling as much as yours. Your orgasm followed his, watching him being too much to handle and the overstimulation was perfect.

You two kept moving even after, riding off both of your highs, and all the while you stared at each other's eyes. His stare was so full of feeling that you felt breathless a bit, you closed your eyes, relying on your orgasm to blame if he asked, even if you knew he wouldn't. He awkwardly laid next to you because he could barely fit and you laughed, moving to the side so he could fit. Wordlessly he took the condom out and tied it, placing it next to the bed and you made a mental note to not forget that there.

Laying facing each other you didn't know what to say so you giggled, amused, nervous, and happy at the same time and so did he, possibly for the same reasons. Wooseok moved so you could lay on his chest and so you did, even though you wiggle up in the bed to lay your head on top of the pillow, body seeking support on his. You kept staring at each other until he moved to give you a peck and a small nudge nose to nose. Butterflies invaded your stomach and you felt yourself holding on for dear life inside.

"Do you feel as fucked as I am?", Wooseok said.

"What sense of the word are we talking here, Wooseokie?", you laughed with him.

"You know what I'm talking about. You know, the stares and stuff", his way with words made you smile. You were thankful you didn't feel it alone.

"Yeah, then I feel as fucked as you are…", you kissed him and caressed his hair again, earning a noise almost like a purr.

"Hm. What do we do?", he asked while caressing your hair as well.

"I don't know. Decide what's for dinner?".

"Easy. Pizza", he answered naturally and you snuggled closer.

"Then what we do is call the pizza place". You said quickly and he agreed with a hum. "But now we nap".

"Nap first, pizza later", he said almost asleep and honestly you were the same, the atmosphere too cozy and nice to not succumb to sleep. Maybe you were fucked but at least you were with your adorable dork.

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kissinginkitchens · 3 years

Text

You Bring Me Home—Chapter Five: Like Real People Do

a/n: hellooo and welcome to the next part of ybmh!! i am sooooo excited about this next chapter (and upcoming chapters😏 ). Thank you again for all of your kind words and wonderful feedback! It's always so much fun to hear from you all, so as always, feel free to come chat in my inbox once you've finished this next part. I have a feeling there will be much to discuss👀 Much love, Mel <3

Pairing: Hawai'i!Harry x Original Character

Warnings: swearing, allusions to sexual content, mentions of drowning

Word Count: 5.6k

read parts one, two, three, and four

“I’m not going,” Alani says finally, discarding the outfit in her hands onto a pile on her bed. The clock reads 7:55 pm, only five minutes before she was supposed to be at the studio. She still hadn’t selected an outfit, but her hair and makeup were still relatively intact from her shift at the café.

“You have to!” Pua whines. “You told him you would!”

“Then I’ll tell him I’m sick or something—food poisoning. Period cramps, maybe,”

She begins placing the clothes on hangers to put back in her closet, but her sister reaches for her wrists to stop her.

“You’re just nervous,” Pua says calmly, getting eye level with her older sister. “But you’ll regret it if you don’t go,”

“Go where?” a woman’s voice calls from the door frame. Their mother, Estrella, peeks her head through the cracked door.

“To a party with a cute boy,” Pua explains.

Alani shoots an icy glare at her sister before turning back to her mom. “It’s not a party. I’m working on a piece about a local musician and he’s recording some music tonight and said I could go. You know, to write about it,”

Estrella nods, not convinced. “So why don’t you wanna to go?”

“Because they almost kissed—”

“Pua!”

“Hey, hey,” Estrella cuts in. “Mija, you’re twenty-two years old, I don’t expect you to stay single forever. If you want to go out and see a cute boy, you don’t need to lie about it,”

“But I’m not lying,” Alani defends. “It’s just… complicated, and I’m trying to be professional about it.”

Estrella steps away from the doorframe and envelops her daughter in a hug. “Sometimes, you just have to do what feels right and hope for the best,”

Alani is grateful for the piece of wisdom from her mother, feeling a small weight lifted off her shoulders.

“But if I were you,” her mom continues. “I would wear the black strappy dress with those wedges.”

********

8:10. Harry checks his phone for the third time in one minute, growing more disappointed each time the same three numbers stare back at him, almost mocking. He doesn’t feel any better when the time reads 8:11.

“Can I interest you in a piña colada?” Mitch pipes up, sauntering over with a glass in each hand.

The choice of drink seemed perfect when Harry had suggested it earlier in the day, but he deeply regrets it now. Despite the tightening at the back of his throat, Harry accepts the drink and chooses to nurse it in a different corner of the room. A part of him feels guilty for being such a buzzkill around his friends these days, and he wishes more than anything that he could just enjoy living in this moment with them. Being away from Alani had produced a strange feeling in him similar to the sickness experienced when leaving home on a long vacation; Harry didn’t know exactly how to cure it, but he hoped that lots of alcohol would do the trick.

When the clock reads 8:20, he accepts that she isn’t coming and decides to make the best of a shitty situation. He drains another piña colada and joins his friends who are huddled around various instruments and sound equipment. A few more of Harry’s writer and producer friends had joined the trip temporarily, and he’s grateful, now more than ever, for their presence—it distracts him from the overwhelming emptiness in the pit of his stomach. Jeff hands Harry a microphone and some headphones while Mitch plugs a white electric guitar into the amp. The guitarist begins with some chords that the crew has been messing around with for the past couple of days: an upbeat riff reminiscent of some of Harry’s favorite 70s rock pieces. His head is spinning mildly, but he uses the feeling as inspiration. He pinches his eyes shut and tries to let the lyrics flow, but the only words coming out are “she’s driving me crazy”, so he starts with that. The group also runs with it, adding a few yells and lyrics of their own. The song isn’t coherent in the slightest, filled mostly with laughter and choppy melodies, but it’s the best Harry has felt all night. He traded the piña coladas for a glass of tequila fit snugly in the palm of his hand, and true to Mitch’s word, the giggles emerge. At one point, he shouts the words “I’m havin’ your baby”, which makes zero sense to anyone in the room, including him, but they decide that it sounds cool and keep it going.

“It’s none of your business!” Mitch calls back, voice raised in his best soprano to mimic that of a woman. The shoddy attempt makes Harry laugh even harder and his hand clutches his stomach.

They continue on for what feels like hours, but in reality has only been forty-five minutes. At 9:05, Jeff Azoff heads outside to catch his breath and cool down. As he takes a seat on the steps, a yellow Ford Bronco pulls into the lot and Alani steps out once it's parked. She emerges in a black dress that falls mid thigh and a baby pink leather jacket, making her way nervously up the steps.

“Alani,” Jeff greets warmly with cheeks flushed. “Welcome. Party’s inside.”

She shoots him a grateful smile and reaches for the studio door, slipping inside cautiously. The music had been audible a mile down the road, but it’s even more overwhelming inside. Standing on a small coffee table in the center of the room is Harry with an arm draped around a shorter man wearing a black and white Adidas shirt. His dimples are on full display and his warbled words carry over the speakers to attack her from all sides. She recognizes Mitch hunched over a guitar and Jeff Bhasker spinning in an office chair, but she can’t put names to the other faces lingering around Harry. Alani feels extremely out of place, not knowing where she belongs in all of the chaos—it all seems to her like a living Jackson Pollock painting that she can’t look away from. In the middle of his off-key rendition of Wannabe by the Spice Girls, Harry’s eyes land on Alani and his smile grows ten times wider. He puts one foot in front of the other, completely disregarding the small size of the table, but he catches himself just as Alani lunges forward to help him. This results in their two bodies pressed flush against one another, the coolness of her leather jacket versus the warmth of his intoxication.

“You made it,” he slurs.

Alani takes a small step back and clears her throat. “Yeah. Sorry I’m late,”

“Don’ worry ‘bout it,” Harry shrugs, his eyes lighting up when he remembers something. “There’s piña coladas! In the kitchen,”

The fact that he remembered such a detail from their previous conversations and made an effort to incorporate it into this night makes her cheeks warm.

“Okay, cool. Thanks,”

Harry scans her appearance and his stomach flutters.

“Y’look really pretty,” he offers. Alani can tell that it takes every ounce of effort to do so.

“Thank you,” she murmurs, voice small.

“Wanna get some fresh air?”

“Yes, please.”

The two of them slip out through a side door and into the backyard, stopping just before the pier. Alani doesn’t know how much of these next moments Harry will remember in the morning, which makes her feel a little more confident to share what she’s truly thinking.

“Harry, I—”

“God, you’re so pretty,” he interrupts, running a hand through his hair.

Her cheeks heat up, but she pushes past the feeling. “And you’re drunk,”

“Yeah, true. But you’re still pretty. Always think so,”

Alani searches his eyes, which are sleepy and bloodshot, but there isn’t a trace of insincerity. In this moment, she also feels the overwhelming urge to be honest—about the butterflies in her stomach that only set flight when he’s around, and the way she constantly wonders what his lips would feel like against hers. But there’s an intensity behind Harry’s gaze, despite his intoxicate state, that stops her.

“You’re making this so hard,” Alani laughs lightly, more to herself than him.

“‘M sorry,” he offers. “Don’t mean to,”

She smiles at Harry’s completely innocent reply, not knowing what to do with all of the pent up affection she has for him. A part of her simply wants to scream in his face to stop being so goddamn endearing. Instead, Alani turns on her heel to put some space between them, but stops when she feels a warm hand tug at her fingers.

“Why d’you always do that?” Harry asks, his expression a little more sober.

Alani takes a deep breath. “Do what?”

“Pull away when I get close. Did it in the car that one time. And the other time at the beach,”

There’s a beat of silence where Alani isn’t sure how to respond, but before she does, Harry releases her fingers and takes a step back.

“Wait, that was stupid. ‘M sorry if I did anything—”

“No,” Alani interrupts, taking a step closer. “You haven’t done anything wrong,”

“So why?”

She releases a breath and swallows. “I don’t know,”

It isn’t the answer Harry is looking for, but he accepts it with a slow nod. Suddenly feeling the need to flee, he takes a step onto the railing of the pier and Alani’s heart rate speeds up.

“What’re you doing?”

“S’hard to tell,” he shrugs before letting himself fall into the water below.

“Harry!” she screams, heaving over the edge of the railing to find him. The drop, unbeknownst to her, is only six feet and he’s done it many times before.

After a few seconds, Alani sees him reemerge at the surface, shaking his wet hair out. There’s a small strip of sand along the shore below, so she bolts down the stairs to meet him at the bottom.

“What the fuck?!” She cries, panic welling in the brim of her eyes. “Why did you do that?”

“I don’t know,” he deadpans.

“You could’ve hurt yourself,” Alani croaks, her limbs shaking. “You—you could’ve—”

Harry reaches out to comfort her but she steps back.

“I gotta go,”

“Alani,” he says gently, but she doesn’t respond. “Alani, wait!”

She walks briskly back to the front lot, Harry close behind.

“Alani, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“Don’t follow me.” she orders.

Her words are like a dagger through his chest, but he respects her wishes and stops dead in his tracks. Harry stands soaking wet under the moonlight, feeling helpless as he watches Alani disappear into the darkness.

********

She wakes the next morning with puffy eyes and a heavy heart, still wearing the same black dress from the night before. The warm water of a morning bath eases some of the tension in her muscles, but she knows it will take a lot more to soothe the tightness in her chest.

Why do you always do that?

Do what?

Pull away.

Their conversation from the night before lingers like a nasty bruise in Alani’s mind, but she senses a bit of harsh truth in Harry’s words. She did have a bad habit of walking away when things got hard, especially concerning matters of the heart. Her instincts were all flight and no fight, so even if Alani had stayed, she isn’t sure how she would’ve explained her reasons for panicking. How do I gently pepper in the whole almost dying thing? she wonders, a lump forming at the back of her throat. Alani was only eight years-old when she nearly drowned, and though almost fourteen years had passed since then, she still vividly remembers the helplessness of sinking further under the strong tide. On nights after a particularly stressful day, Alani’s sleep is often disturbed by the sensation of her lungs slowly filling with water only to wake up drenched in sweat and clutching the sheets. She had worked hard for several years after the incident to overcome her fear of the ocean, but a part of her still couldn’t shed the debilitating need for caution. After all, it was easier to avoid the water altogether than to wade in blindly and get sucked under. Watching Harry sink into the unknown stirred the same sense of panic that Alani had felt all those years ago and threatened to undo her progress, but she quickly realized that it was the idea of losing him that had sent her into flight mode. She imagines the hollowness she would feel at the sight of waterfalls and the scent of vanilla; piña coladas—the drink and the song—tainted in her memory forever. The thought of Harry's absence was all too much to bear, but it’s how she knew that his presence must mean something. He meant something, and she couldn’t let him go.She ends her bath quickly and sifts through the first pair of clothes she can find. Suddenly none of it mattered: what she wore, how she looked, Rolling Stone—nothing but him. Alani thinks back to her mother’s words: sometimes you just have to do what feels right and hope for the best. All she needed to do was see him and the words would find themselves. The sky is overcast when she steps outside, so she quickly puts the top on Stevie and pulls out into the road, deciding to make one quick pit-stop before setting off to find him.

********

Harry’s head pounds and he feels as if the sun has been set to maximum brightness. His clothes reek of saltwater, his skin feels like sandpaper, and his mouth is the Sahara desert. None of this compares, however, to the sense of impending doom that settles in when the memories of the night before, particularly those of Alani, resurface. I’m so fucked, he groans. Harry doesn’t quite remember every detail, but he remembers enough; he remembers how pretty she looked, and reminding her of it. He feels the temporary warmth of her fingers and the coolness of her jacket pressed against his chest. There’s a bit of fuzziness between the Spice Girls and piña coladas, but then Harry remembers crashing through water and his memory gets clearer. He fucked up. He had upset Alani in some way and although he doesn’t quite know how, he knows that he would spend the rest of his life trying to make up for it. Harry sits up suddenly and the whole room spins, but he makes an effort to stand anyway. Need to see Alani, he thinks with determination, I just need to see Alani.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” Mitch comments from the kitchen table, nursing a cup of coffee.

“What time is it?” Harry croaks.

Mitch takes a sip of coffee and checks his phone. “10:30,”

“And last night was…”

“The party?” Mitch fills in the gaps. “Yeah,”

Harry rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands and takes a seat at the table. “Did...did you see Alani?”

“No. I don’t think anyone did, actually. Did you?”

“Yeah,”

“So… I’m assuming it didn’t go well?”

Harry’s throat tightens and he hopes that she at least got home safely. He can’t bear to think about anything bad happening to her on his watch.

“No,” he confirms with a sigh. “No it didn’t,”

“Are you gonna go talk to her?” Mitch prods.

“Dunno if I should. She was pretty pissed,”

Mitch thinks for a second, taking another sip of coffee. “What would Noah Calhoun do?”

Under normal circumstances, Harry would be very amused by his friend’s reference to The Notebook, but right now he’s too focused on making things right with Alani. He devises a plan of action and stands.

“On a scale of one to ten,” he starts. “How shitty do I look?”

Mitch scans his best friend over, head tilting from side to side as he considers the question. “About a 7.5.”

“Good enough.”

Harry swipes the keys to the Cadillac off the counter and slips his feet into a pair of beat up vans before heading out the door.

********

The restaurant is fairly empty, as far as Alani can tell from the back. The kitchen staff are gathered in the break room for the time being, which allows her to tiptoe around unnoticed as she grabs the necessary ingredients for her peace offering to Harry. She hurries out through the employee entrance as soon as it’s complete and the key is already turning in her car’s lock when she hears a voice over her shoulder, calling her name.

“David?” she responds, turning to face the brawny man leaning against the car that is parked beside hers.

“Hey,” he starts, offering a flash of pearly white teeth. “I know I’m not supposed to be back here, but I just wanted to talk to you,”

Alani swallows, the icy chill of the drink in her hands reminding her of what needs to be done.

“You know, now’s not really a gr—”

“I haven't stopped thinking about you,” David interrupts, taking a step closer. “Since the other day when you stopped by. I mean, I think about you all the time but…” he trails off and Alani waits awkwardly for him to finish his ill-timed confession. David takes another step towards her and rests his forearm against the hood of her car, practically boxing her in with no escape route.

“We were really great together, don’t you think?” he asks, scanning her face with his prying eyes. “I don’t even remember why we broke things off,”

Alani’s brow furrows, her mind failing to come up with a logical explanation for this very sudden and uncomfortable conversation. She hadn’t lied when she told Harry that David wasn’t her ex, but she hadn’t been entirely honest, either. They had started hooking up during her senior year of high school—mostly because he was the star swimmer on their team that all the other girls fawned over, and despite all the attention, he had wanted her. It made her feel momentarily special, though she knew he wasn’t the boyfriend type. “Just a bit of fun” is what they called it, and the arrangement worked out well until Alani’s freshman year of college when she realized that there was an entire world of opportunities waiting beyond the confines of high school. A world that had brought her Harry, who was probably going to leave just as soon as he’d arrived if she didn’t make amends quickly.

“No,” Alani says decisively, nudging his arm away. “We weren’t ‘great’ together, we weren’t even good for each other,”

“Alani-”

“We were really young,” she continues. “And we did what we did, but that’s all in the past-”

“If you would just give me a chance-”

“I didn’t even know what I wanted for myself back then, let alone what I wanted out of a partner. But I do now,”

She doesn’t have to say Harry’s name, but they’re both thinking it. David steps back, arms crossed, and though he had always been somewhat intimidating, he looks small standing before her now.

“It’s because of that British guy, isn’t it?” he asks, despite the feeling that he already knows the answer.

Alani lets out a light laugh but she doesn’t confirm his suspicions. “We have nothing in common, David. We want different things out of life, you’ll see,”

“And he,” David continues, an accusatory tone on the word “he”. “Wants everything you do?”

She thinks for a moment, her heart pounding as she considers what Harry’s response will be to her confession. “I hope so.”

********

Harry had considered going to Alani’s house first, but he wasn’t sure who else would be home and didn’t particularly want his first interaction with her parents to occur whilst hungover. Sitting parked on the back road behind the café, however, he wishes that he had stopped there first to save him the painful sight ahead. Harry recognizes the other man from the restaurant he had taken Alani to the first time they had hung out, a name that started with the letter “D," though probably not the one flashing angrily in his mind. His arm is draped comfortably along the roof of her car, their bodies inches apart in what appears to be a very intimate moment. While he still can’t remember the exact details of his actions that had upset Alani so much, he fits this piece into the puzzle and it becomes much more clear. She has a boyfriend, and no amount of apologies could reconcile this fact, however tempted Harry may be to try. The word “boyfriend” sits uncomfortably in his mind, but it suddenly puts everything else into perspective. It explains why she fled his car so quickly when his wandering eyes had hinted their desire for her kiss—both times. He could have sworn that it would have happened had her phone not interrupted them the second time, but perhaps it had all been a trick of the rose-colored light. The sudden realization makes Harry feel sick, and a bit foolish, so he speeds off before he can be spotted.

He drives aimlessly for a while, mind still racing with the image of the other man’s depraved hands on Alani’s soft skin. The uneasiness boiling in the pit of his stomach is pathetic—he’s well aware—but he can’t stop himself from wondering why not me? It’s a selfish thought, but it eats at him, nonetheless. It should have been me. But the reality is that it wasn’t him, and it never would be. Despite any feelings he’d had that Alani was the one for him, he was not the one for her, and it’s a fact he must learn to live with. If this thought were a rock, he’d turn it over in his fingers until they bled.

********

Alani pulls up to the studio hesitantly and waits a beat before making her way up the stairs. She knocks twice, but there’s no answer, so she presses her ear to the door in search of any sound. Silence. There’s no trace of the cars Harry usually drives when she wanders to the back lot, either, so she figures that he must not be here. Alani racks her brain for other possible locations, but it’s a dead end. She doesn’t know what hotel or house he could be staying at, and her heart begins to race at the idea that he might not even be in Hawaii anymore. For all she knows, he could be on a return flight to L.A. or London, gone forever with the same instructions she had left him: don’t follow me. Alani lifts her phone with trembling fingers and searches Harry’s name, pressing the phone to her ear and praying like she had never prayed before. It rings three times before she’s sent to voicemail. The sound of his voice on the recording brings temporary relief, but it’s gone as soon as the message ends and she is prompted to respond. She clears her throat gently and speaks as if he is at the other end waiting to hear the right words and pick up.

“Hi, it’s Alani,” she starts slowly. “I, uh…. I’m at the studio. I don’t think you’re here though,”

She walks in small circles around the backyard and lets her eyes roam to the pier where it all went wrong. It sends a pang of guilt through her spine, but it fuels her next words.

“Listen, I really wanna talk—about last night. I shouldn’t have left, I know that now. It wasn’t you, it was me, and I know that sounds cliché but it’s true,”

Alani swallows down the emotion bubbling at the back of her throat and wishes that she could just see him, face to face, one last time. There’s so much more she needs to say, but it’s a conversation she doesn’t want to have with his answering machine.

“Please just call me when you get this. I wanna explain everything if you’ll let me.”

She hangs up and nearly throws her phone into the ocean. Though her trauma response wasn’t completely in her control and it isn’t something she should feel guilty about, she wishes she had been able to explain. Alani hadn’t always been comfortable sharing that part of her life, but there was a security in Harry’s presence that made her feel okay to do so. She wanted to share everything with him, the good and the bad, but she needed to find him first.

Only twenty minutes had elapsed at the studio when Alani decides to head out; there was still no word from Harry and she needed to be anywhere else beside the site of their potential last meeting. She drives with no particular place in mind, the windows rolled down to let in the chilly, overcast air. It isn’t until she’s halfway in the opposite direction that she gets the urge to visit one other location. There’s an extremely small chance that Harry will be there, but she goes less in search of him and more for her own personal wallowing.

When Alani pulls up to the lookout where the two of them had spotted the rainbow, there is another car already parked: a pink Cadillac. The sight makes her entire body freeze.

“Harry?” a small voice calls behind him. He almost thinks that he had hallucinated it until he reluctantly turns his head and sees a timid Alani emerging from her car. A million emotions run through his mind at once, starting with confusion and elation and ultimately ending in grief.

“Hey,” he responds, weakly, still leaning against the hood of the Cadillac.

Alani slowly makes her way over, not entirely sure that he’s actually there. Once she gets closer, however, she can smell the faint scent of vanilla and her chest swells.

“I left you a voicemail,” is all she can say.

Harry’s brow furrows as he tries to remember any phone calls, but he suddenly figures that in all of his rush to see her, he had forgotten to grab it from his bed.

“Left my phone at the house,” he offers.

There’s a brief silence where the two of them size each other up, weighing their own motives against what they assume to be the other person’s. Harry speaks first.

“Alani, ‘m really sorry,” he says gently, stepping away from the car and towards her. “I know I fucked up—”

“Harry—”

“But I understand now,” he continues. “I know why you were upset,”

Confusion settles into Alani’s body and she wonders how he could possibly know about her accident. Or if he didn’t know, what else he could be referring to. She doesn’t have to guess for long because Harry continues despite her silence.

“I saw you with him—your boyfriend, I mean. Derek?” he explains. “But not in a creepy way I just.. wanted to talk. Bad timing,”

“Wait,” Alani cuts in, her brain finally sorting out the pieces. “You saw me and David..today?”

Harry feels as if the knife in his chest has been twisted further at the mention of the other man’s name, but he nods. An uncontrollable bubble of laughter finds its way up Alani’s throat, and the sound would typically bring butterflies to his stomach, but it only exacerbates the heartache.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Alani clarifies. “He’s delusional. And a huge pain in the ass, but I think he finally got the hint when I turned him down earlier,”

Harry’s ears perk up at the news, but he’s still wary.

“But you two were—”

“Ancient history,” Alani reassures him, taking another step closer. “He might as well be Socrates,”

A faint smile tugs at the corners of Harry’s lips and he feels a wave of relief wash over his body. The news is music to his ears, but he still wants to know what he had done to make her walk away that night.

“So you weren’t upset because you have a boyfriend and I tried to make a move?”

Alani takes a deep breath, knowing that she has avoided saying her piece long enough. Before she can start, though, a rumble of thunder interrupts her thoughts.

“Can we talk in Stevie? I don’t feel like standing in wet socks again,” she asks, which Harry obliges.

The two climb into the truck and settle in, the atmosphere quickly becoming more intimate than Alani had planned. His vanilla cologne has also become more perceptible in the confined space, and there’s a whiff of spearmint, most likely his gum, that briefly draws her attention to his mouth. She snaps her mind back to the conversation at hand and clears her throat.

“I’m sorry,” she begins, reading his eyes carefully. There’s a faint reassurance behind the emerald surface, so she continues. “For everything that happened last night. You did nothing wrong, please know that,”

Harry wishes he could reach out and comfort her, but he gets the feeling that whatever she’s about to say is important so he doesn’t want to dismiss it.

“It’s hard for me, sometimes, to be around the water,” Alani continues despite the prickling feeling in her eyes. “Because when I was eight years old, I almost drowned,”

The revelation hits Harry like a ton of bricks and all at once he understands. He hadn’t even thought twice about jumping into the water that night, so it didn’t occur to him to rule that out as a possible offense. He understands now that he couldn’t have been more mistaken.

“And I know that has nothing to do with you,” Alani explains, her voice wavering ever so slightly. “Except that it terrified me to think about, you know… if you hadn’t been so lucky,”

Her composure quickly cracks, a single tear spilling down her cheek before she wipes it away with the sleeve of her sweater. This time, Harry does reach a hand out and Alani accepts it gratefully; the warmth of his fingers are a welcome contrast to her icy appendages.

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” he murmurs as his thumb rubs small circles over the back of her hand.

“But I do,” she sniffles. “Because—”

Alani pauses, unsure of how to finish her thought. Just do what feels right and hope for the best.

“Because I care about you,” she says finally, noticing the way his Adam’s apple bobs at her words.

Harry's jaw tightens at her confession and every muscle in his body longs to bring her close, leaving no inch of space between them, but he lets her lead despite his instincts.

"But it’s also because I care about you that I can’t let this go any further,”

Alani’s words surprise herself just as much as they terrify Harry, but she knows that it’s the right thing to do as soon as it’s done.

“Alani—” Harry starts, all of his worst fears crashing down on him.

“Please, don’t make this harder—”

“Don’t I get a say?” he questions, tightening his grip on her hand, though she still manages to slip away.

Alani runs the free hand through her still damp waves and lets another tear roll down her cheek. “What is there left to say?”

“How about ‘I care about you, too’? How about ‘I want to be with you’?”

“It’s too messy—”

“Everyone has baggage,” Harry defends. “God knows I do, and I would never ask you to carry all of that,”

Alani lets her eyes meet his again; they’re bloodshot and glossy, which sends a pang of guilt and sorrow through her entire body.

“You don’t know what you’re asking,” she reasons, this time thinking not only about her own issues, but about everything—the lies she had told and the ambitions she was still nurturing. She hadn’t given up on her dreams and unless Rolling Stone had suddenly changed their mind about the Joni Mitchell piece, there was only one way she was going to achieve them. Alani hadn’t yet reconciled the fact that she would have to put aside her own feelings for Harry to get what she wanted, but she knew that time would heal the wounds.

“All I want,” he continues. “Is a chance. And I know nothing I do will ever change the past, but two hands make the load lighter. So, please, let me carry some of that with you. Give me a chance,”

As she studies the pleading in his eyes, something stirs deeply inside Alani’s chest. She had started the day thinking only of him, but with selfish intentions. Now, she was trying to do right by him, having realized that she couldn’t have both him and the story that would launch her career. Something would have to give, and Harry deserved more than that. He deserved more than her. Despite all of this awareness, there is something else nagging in the back of her mind that she can’t ignore. Don’t walk away, it screams. If Alani ignored her true feelings for Harry and refused his plea, she would be walking away from someone who believed in her, someone who cared deeply for, and wanted to understand, her. Perhaps the universe truly had brought Harry for a story, but to be a part of hers instead of the one she had been so eager to publish. There would be other chances, just like Dr. Hudson had said, but there would never be anyone else like Harry. So with this in mind, Alani decides to stop walking away and stand still, right in this very moment, with the boy who shined brighter than the sun itself and who had only asked for a chance to make her happy.

“Okay,” she breathes and it’s like the weight of the universe has been lifted from her shoulders.

Harry leans in, their foreheads pressed together gently, and cups her cheek in his hand.

“Can I kiss you?” he whispers.

Alani nods and nudges the tip of his nose with her own. “Please.”

Their lips meet like electrically charged magnets, with a force so natural and strong it sends bolts of electrons through their entire bodies. Harry’s mouth is warm and gentle against hers, and the coolness of his mint gum soothes the searing touch of his kiss. Alani’s fingers glide up his chest and along the sides of his neck, pulling him closer as if he’s the anchor keeping her from floating away into the dark clouds above them. Over and over again, their lips collide fervently, breaths mixing and filling each other’s lungs. Their hands eagerly explore the curves of each other’s faces, the softness of hair, and the occasional heat of exposed skin. Harry is the first to break the kiss, panting lightly as he pulls back to search Alani’s face.

“Y’okay?” he asks.

“Never been better.”

next chapter

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles writing #harry styles fluff #harry styles fic #harry styles x oc #solo harry #one direction #ybmh

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preciouspeterbparker · 3 years

Text

i wish i were, part 3

part one

part two

summary: it’s getting harder to pretend that everything is okay.

word count: 4.2k

warnings: step- inc*st, smut, underage sex, suicidal ideation (oops), ANGST, depression, self-harm mention (doesn’t actually happen, just intrusive thoughts), it’s all mentioned very casually so if this is triggering for you please don’t read!! <3 , ambiguous ending

this is the last part y’all! thanks for going on this ride with me. this was my first multi-chap fic and it kinda gave me the confidence to know that i’m capable of writing longer stuff without it being super shitty lol. sorry that it’s taken me so long!!

love you all

- bloo

It's getting harder to pretend that everything is okay.

Peter hates to say it, fuck, the thought physically pains him, but he’s glad the school year’s almost over. He’s glad that it’s almost time for graduation, time for Tony to leave for the special summer program MIT invited him to participate in.

He just wants to stop feeling like this, never wants to feel like this ever again. He always feels heavy, weighed down, like his clothes are soaking wet. It’s a feeling that goes deep into his bones, leaving him cold, aching, and tired.

It’s a good thing there’s not really any work left to do for school, other than exams; Peter spends most of his time in bed, headphones on and staring at the wall, the one that separates his room from Tony’s.

He keeps hearing Pepper’s voice in his head. He thinks you hung the moon, babe. It’s so cute. The words make him burn inside, make him want to dig his fingers in and peel his skin back until the feeling spills out of him. Until his blood spill out, until he doesn’t have to deal with this anymore- Fuck-

That’s how his brain is working, now. The intrusive thoughts have reached new levels. Peter’s always had them, he’s been passively suicidal for most of his adolescence, but it seems that any minor inconvenience has him ready to end it all. But it makes sense, he supposes. He’s already hurting, already weary and withdrawn. It really wouldn’t take much to push him over the edge.

Too bad he doesn’t really want to die. He just wants everything to...stop. So that he doesn’t have to feel like this.

And because the universe is obviously enjoying fucking with him, the first thing he sees walking out of first period is Pepper walking down the hallway, a faded black t-shirt hanging from her shoulders, exposing the bright red of her bra straps.

Peter recognizes the garment immediately.

It’s the Black Sabbath shirt, the one he’d kept under his pillow for over a week. The one he’d spilled multiple loads of cum onto before finally putting it in his laundry and carefully slipping it back into Tony’s room once it had been washed.

And now Pepper’s wearing it. Which means Tony gave it to her.

Peter stops, freezes right there in the doorway of Mrs. Flannigan’s classroom. He blinks, staring blankly in the direction the blonde had gone. His classmates protest behind him, pushing forward until he snaps out of it. Taking a few stumbling steps to the side, he leans back against the wall.

He feels like he can’t breathe. Some kid walking down the hall looks at him funny, and he realizes that there are tears rolling down his cheeks. Hastily wiping them away, he slowly pushes himself off the wall and starts making a hasty exit to the bathroom, head down and eyes trained on the linoleum.

Then-

“Hey, Peter- Wait, Pete what’s wrong, what happened?”

Shuddering, barely able to contain the sob that threatens to rip its way out, Peter ignores Tony, just pushes past him and doesn’t stop moving until he’s locked in the private restroom.

With his back to the door, Peter slides down til his butt’s on the cold ground, arms wrapped around his knees as he tries to muffle his cries as he sits there, shaking.

He just wants it to stop.

***

Something’s up with Peter, and Tony has a sinking feeling that it’s got something to do with him. But he doesn’t know what he possibly could have done.

They’d had such a nice time celebrating his birthday. He even had a new photo in his wallet, a polaroid of him and Peter cheesing goofily into the camera. Looking at it brings a smile to his face.

He really does love his little brother. Though he was young, Tony can remember life before Richard and Peter came into their lives. He remembers being an only child as lonely hours spent trying to entertain himself while his mom was busy working, trying to support him as a single parent. He’d been ecstatic upon meeting Richard and finding out that he had a little boy, too, that he was going to get a brother.

Tony knows that he and Peter haven’t been spending as much time together as they usually do, but he just chalked it up to it being his senior year. He wanted to spend the time with his friends, with his girlfriend, making the best of their last bit of time together before everything changes.

Peter’s words from his birthday ring in his head. I don’t want you to...forget me. Maybe he’s feeling left behind?

He’s only got a little over a week left until graduation, and then a week after that he leaves for MIT. That’s not much time at all.

The teen resolves to make some more time in his schedule to spend with his younger brother. Rhodey and the guys and Pep can deal for a couple days.

***

Peter’s pulled out of the clusterfuck of ruminative thoughts that have kept him awake for the past week by the squeak of his bedroom door being opened. He blinks under the covers, instinctively curling in on himself. He’s been under here for hours, but he still feels so cold.

Tony’s voice comes through the small crack he’s created between the door and the jamb, one eye peeking inside. “Peter? Are you….” He pauses and clears his throat before continuing softly, “Are you okay?”

The lump under the covers that is Peter shifts a little. His voice is dull and monotone when he replies, as apathetic as he can muster. “...Just leave me alone, Tony.” So much for that. Even saying his brother’s name hurts, a lot more than he thought it would, making his voice crack pathetically. Peter pulls his hands up to his chest and tries to quell the sudden surge of emotion that rushes through him, stifling a whimper. Please just go away.

Of course, instead of listening for once in his fucking life, Tony opens the door further so that he can slip inside. It closes behind him with a soft click and he takes a tentative step towards the queen bed that’s pushed up against the walls in the corner of the dark bedroom. "Pete…" Peter can hear him softly pad over to the nightstand and flick on the small lamp sitting there. His breathing in the quiet room is near deafening to Peter. “I…” He hovers there for a minute before sighing and sitting at the foot of the bed. “I wish you’d tell me what’s wrong. So that I can… I just want to help, Pete.”

The silence stretches on uncomfortably between them and even under the covers, Peter can feel the worried gaze burning him alive.

His skin is crawling with how badly he wants to crawl out of the covers and into Tony’s lap, the way he would when they were younger and he was upset. He needs to get Tony out of here. He can’t-

Peter moves so that his head is exposed, but he looks down at the bed rather than the other teen. "No, it’s fine. I mean I-, I’m fine," Peter sniffles, blinking furiously in an attempt to will the tears away. Fuck. His- fuck, his throat is tight, he can't swallow. His mouth falls open, a shuddering breath escaping as the muscles in his throat spasm. "I get it, Tony. I promise I get it, I really do. I do. She's-"

Fuck. He must really be exhausted, he wasn’t supposed to say that, wasn’t supposed to let on the truth of why he’s upset. Peter's eyes flit around like he's on speed, darting from one focal point to another without him truly seeing anything. His voice is hoarse, thin. It's as small as he feels. Miniscule. Insignificant. He’s gonna ruin everything but he can’t make himself stop. "I mean, I can’t- I can't compete with-" The words come to an abrupt halt, his mouth snapping shut.

Tony nudges Peter’s foot with his knee. “What? Peter.” He bumps against Peter again until the younger boy looks up to make eye contact.

That stupid fucking crease forms between his older brother's eyebrows. Peter wants to slap him. Or kiss him. Mostly he wants to scream.

"Peter, what? Compete with who? Are you talking about Pepper? I know we haven’t been spending much time together, but I’m gonna fix that before I leave, I promise. I don’t want you to feel left behind, not at all but I still don’t get- What’s this got to do with -," Tony starts, placatingly. But there’s something in his eyes, in the barely there tremor in his voice- And Peter suddenly realizes that Tony knows, has to know at least a little bit.

He swears his vision flashes red for a second. "It has everything to do with her," Peter all but shrieks, nails digging crescent-shaped welts into his palms. He feels overwhelmed, trapped. Like a hermit crab without its shell- vulnerable, horribly exposed. It comes out without his consent, and so does his fucking stutter. Fuck it all. "And I know- I know- I know I'm fucked up, Tony, I know it, but I love you, the way that you love h-huh-her.”

He takes a shuddering breath, reeling from saying the words out loud for the first time. “I'm sss-suh-sick, and g-gross and you- I know I'm a fff-fuh-freak and nnn-now- now you’re gonna hate me!" Peter sobs, his entire body shaking as he works himself towards an anxiety attack, a panic attack, a heart attack, fucking something. “I can’t even fu-fu-fu-fucking talk-” There’s snot and tears running down his face, he’s upset himself so much he can’t get through a fucking sentence. He knows he’s making a fucking fool of himself. He’s so stupid, why did he ever think that anything could come from this. He just wants it all to stop, he wants Tony to leave so that he can figure out some way to fix this, to make it all go away-

Tony’s staring at him, mouth parted, dark eyes wide and concerned. "Baby, what- I could never hate you, babydoll." It’s like the nickname comes out instinctually, the sound of Peter’s stutter instantly taking him back to the way he would console Peter when they were much younger, pulling him into his arms and rocking him like his own little baby.

He climbs on the bed and burrows into the nest of blankets and pillows that Peter has created, but he stays sitting up. His arms wrap around his baby brother and pull him up into his lap so that he’s close to his chest, in spite of the younger’s attempts to squirm away. “Calm down, Pete.” Tony presses his lips to Peter’s head when his cries only increase, frowning at how hot the skin of his forehead is. “You’ve gotta calm down,” he soothes. “C’mon, it’ll get better once you calm down, baby, you know that.” One of his hands glides up and down Peter’s heaving back.

Gasping, Peter shakes his head. He buries his face in the space where Tony’s pec and arm meet, taking a shuddering breath through his mouth. He’s trying to calm down but it’s not working. “I’m so- I’m so ssss-sss-suh-sorry, Tuh-Tony!” He feels like he’s gonna pass out. Shifting a bit, he pulls his head back in an attempt to get some more air. They almost make eye contact but he hurriedly looks away. He’s ruined everything. Tony hasn’t reacted to his confession yet but Peter knows that it’s gonna be bad, it’s gonna be so bad when he does.

What’s he got left to lose?

Peter can't help himself; he leans in. The tips of their noses brush, and he pauses there for a moment. He can hear Tony's sharp intake of breath through his own heaving as they finally lock eyes. The look in Tony's chocolate depths is- Peter doesn’t really know. Tony's never looked at him like this before, no one has.

“Tony,” he whispers shakily, breath catching in his throat before closing the distance between them. Time stands still for a moment before something breaks, the tension snapping like a rubberband pulled too tight. Their mouths meet and Peter immediately whines at the feeling of Tony’s lips on his, body instinctively arching up against his brother’s, too lost in it to feel embarrassed of how easy he is to get worked up.

It’s...everything he ever dreamed of.

Tony’s hands move to cup his cheeks, and Peter’s own hands find their way into the other’s dark, wavy locks as their mouths move against each other. There’s a swipe of tongue across his bottom lip, timidly asking for entrance. The younger obliges immediately, letting the warm muscle slide into his mouth where it meets his own. It sends shivers down his spine and he keens when his tongue is sucked into the wet of Tony’s mouth. His dick begins to fill rapidly in his sweats, leaving him feeling lightheaded and a bit disoriented.

Peter’s never made out with anyone before, but this-

He thinks he understands what all of the hype is about, now.

They pull apart, both gasping for air. Tony moves his head slightly, taking heaving breaths that blow onto the exposed skin of Peter’s neck, and his entire body seizes. The elder brother pauses, eyes darkening, before he latches his mouth there and sucking, hard- Fuck, Peter swears he’s about to cum in his pants.

“Tony.” The name is all but ripped from his throat, ragged and wanton and filthy sounding. He didn’t know he could feel this good. There’s precum steadily leaking from the slit at the tip of his cock, and though he can’t see it at the moment, he’s sure there’s a wet spot staining the crotch of his pants.

More moist air on the sensitive skin of his neck, now slightly red from being rubbed by the stubble covering Tony’s chin. “Shit, Peter,” comes the eighteen year old’s wrecked gasp and his hips shift, nudging his own erection against Peter’s thigh. “Fuck, fuck.”

Peter feels like he’s losing his mind. “Tony, Tony lemme- Wanna touch you, please-,” he says, unable to put together a full sentence. The cock he’s been dreaming about for almost a year is within his reach and he doesn’t know how they got here, has no idea what’s going to happen after, but he’s so fucking close to getting what he’s wanted for so long but thought he could never have. His hands flutter restlessly near the front of his brother’s basketball shorts and the bulge that’s pressing insistently against the loose material.

“Yeah,” Tony gasps, shifting Peter out of his lap so that he can lie down on the bed on his side and then he pulls Peter down with him, facing each other. “Me too, can I…,” he trails off, the fingers of his right hand running down Peter’s body from his shoulder down to the sharp point of his hip bone.

All Peter can do is nod jerkily, already reaching to tug at the dark red fabric that’s wrapped around the older teen’s waist. He lets out a desperate, frustrated sound when they get caught, but Tony’s hands take over for him, so he pushes his own pants down to his knees instead. His dick hangs down heavily once it's free of its confines, and there’s a quiet thud as Tony’s slaps against the dark hairs smattered across his lower belly.

Looking at his big brother’s cock for the first time in the dim lighting makes Peter’s mouth water. He can make out the slight shadow of a vein running the length of it, and his tip is big, a drop of precum sitting there just waiting for him to lick at it. He’s bigger than Peter, in both length and girth. It’s perfect, something right out of his fantasies.

Tony rocks his hips forward and their erections rub against each other, prompting them to let out synchronous groans. “Holy shit,” Peter whines, his own hips stuttering as they start to rut against each other in earnest. They quickly get into a slightly stumbling rhythm. It feels so good, their cocks both so hot, so hard. He already knows this is going to be over before it really even starts but he couldn’t care less. “Tony, Tony, yes-”

The brunette all but growls. “That’s it, Petey. Fuck, your cock feels so good, I never- Shit,” Tony pants before spitting into his palm and wrapping his hand around both of their shafts. “Fucking hell-” His toes twitch against the inside of Peter’s ankle. “Pete-”

Peter’s movements get jerkier, his hips stuttering at the feeling of Tony’s wet hand, the way their dicks are sliding against one another. He’s so close, so fucking close. “Please,” he whimpers, fingers digging to Tony’s shoulders where he’s holding on in an attempt to ground himself. HIs tongue licks at his brother’s bottom lip. “Wanna cum, Tony, lemme cum-”

“Yeah, fuck, yes Peter, cum, cum for me-” Tony groans, the speed of his stroking increasing. The rhythm is jerky, and it’s so uncoordinated when combined with their frantic undulating, but it feels amazing.

“Tony, Tony, Tony,” Peter chants as his orgasm slams into him like a brick wall. His muscles lock up, and there are probably crescent-shaped welts in the skin of Tony’s shoulders and back. Thick, white ropes of cum shoot from his cock and make a mess in his brother’s hand. A whine escapes him as he grows more sensitive in Tony’s grasp.

The feeling of the warm liquid smearing over his erection is what does the older teen in. He crushes his mouth to Peter’s as he cums, fucking into his fist and rubbing against the other’s softening cock, licking lewdly into the wet of his mouth. “Pete,” he sighs, pulling away after he’s ridden out the wave of his orgasm.

“I love you,” Peter whispers contently, snuggling in and pressing a kiss to a freckle on Tony’s shoulder. This is everything he’s ever wanted, to be held in his big brother’s arms like this: like a lover. Maybe he was worried for nothing, maybe everything will be okay. Sure, they’ll have to hide it from everyone, especially Mom & Dad, but once they’re both in college… They have different last names, no one would ever have to know. They could be happy. Peter just wants to be happy, just wants this feeling to stay.

Tony shifts slightly and takes a deep breath, the puff of air ruffling Peter’s sweat-slick auburn curls. “Pete,” he says again, softly. “I love you too, I do.” He pauses, pulling back slightly and loosening his hold on the younger boy and rolling onto his back so that they’re both looking up at the ceiling. “But I-”

Peter freezes, the afterglow fading instantly. His heartbeat picks up, and there’s a slight ringing in his ears. He grips the sweat damp comforter in his hands, fingers twitching restlessly, stroking back and forth over the fabric in an attempt to soothe himself. No. No, no no, this isn’t- Tony- He can’t-

Another heavy sigh. “We can’t- We can’t do this again, Pete,” Tony says into the quiet of the night, still slightly out of breath from exertion. His voice is soft, gentle. He’s trying not to hurt Peter; Peter thinks that’s bullshit.

There’s a lead weight in his stomach. He feels like he’s drowning. He feels like he’s gonna be sick. He feels dirty. He feels-

He’s so tired of feeling.

Tony hesitates before pulling his shorts up and sliding out of the bed. He reaches out, brushing his fingers over Peter’s hand, jerks back when the younger immediately tenses and recoils from the touch. “I’m sorry,” he whispers before hastily making his way to the door, shutting it gently behind him.

“Just go, Tony,” he croaks before rolling over in the bed, away from the love of his life his brother.

Peter lays there for the rest of the night, unmoving, staring at the ceiling, tears running down the sides of his face, seeing nothing.

If only he could feel nothing, too.

***

“Where...where ya goin, Pete?”

Peter is putting clothes in a small duffel bag. He makes a mental note to remember to grab a new thing of toothpaste when he gets his toiletry bag together. “I’m, uh, gonna go stay with Ned. For a few days.” More like a few weeks, but he doesn’t need to tell Tony that.

It’s only been two days since they-

Peter’s already had enough. He can’t be here, he can’t skirt around the elephant that is his feelings towards Tony, can’t handle the awkwardness in the air as his stupid fucking brother tries to go on as if nothing ever happened. As if it meant nothing to him.

As if Peter meant nothing to him, means nothing to him.

Peter can...he can be okay with that. He has to be. But he can’t be here. He can’t.

“What about mom and da-” Tony cuts himself off, and Peter can tell that’s not what he is really trying to ask. Of course he’s so fucking disgusted, so fearful of someone else knowing, that he can’t even say it. No, what he really means is-

“I didn’t tell them I kissed you, Tony,” Peter hisses, tears burning in his eyes. He yanks the zipper of his bag closed, biting back a scream when it gets stuck for a second. “I’m not stupid. Why would I tell them what we did? I don’t want them to hate me, too. Don’t worry about what I told them, they said I could go.”

Maria and Richard are under the impression that Peter’s just stressed about his grades and going a little stir crazy. When they’d talked last night, Mom had frowned gently at him, mentioning how down he’d looked lately and letting him know that he was loved and cherished. Dad had actually been the one to suggest spending some time with Ned; maybe seeing his best friend would help pull Peter out of his funk.

If only they knew.

Tony gapes at him, an incredulous look on his face. “But what about Tuesday? You’re gonna miss my graduation? For what, to fuck around with Ned? Peter-”

Something in him snaps. He clenches his jaw, swallows harshly. Glares tearily at his brother. “Would you please just stop it?”

The taller boy sets his shoulders and crosses his arms, defiant. “I don’t want you to go.” His eyes are narrowed, searching Peter’s face. For what, the younger has no idea. Nor does he care.

“It doesn’t matter what you want, Tony,” he yells, glad that Mom and Dad are out at the grocery store, getting supplies for Tony’s graduation party. His voice cracks on his brother’s name. Always on his name. “Not anymore. I don’t- I know you don’t- Do you know how much it hurts me? To- to hear you? To know, to have to listen to-”

Tony’s mouth opens, but no words come out. “Hear us? You- you heard us? When?” His eyes are wide. He must realize exactly what Peter’s talking about, when he’s talking about, and he looks uncomfortable, vulnerable in a way that Peter’s never seen him before. Something ugly deep inside the younger teen feels satisfied for a moment before it deflates. He’s left feeling just as drained as before.

Tony continues, “Peter, I-” He cuts himself off, looks away.

Of course he can’t even come up with something to say.

“For fuck’s sake, Tony, you don’t have to explain everything to me!” It comes out as a sob. Peter feels like he’s a volcano; the words are erupting and he can’t do anything but allow it, powerless to stop them. “Nothing you say will make it better! I know you’re straight! I know it’s- that it’s wrong. I know Pepper is-,” he chokes, gasping. Why is this happening? Everything is going so fast. How is he freezing and on fire at the same time?

“She’s gorgeous and I’m just the path-th-thetic little br-brother who th-thinks you hung the moon.” Peter’s spluttering, flapping his hands at his sides as he tries to do something with the energy humming inside him. He wants out, he needs Tony to go so that he can finish packing. He has to get out of here.

Tony takes a step towards him. “No, Peter, how could you-”

Peter’s sniffling, eyes squeezed shut. His hands are clenched into fists at his sides, trembling. Why won’t Tony just leave him alone? He just wants to be alone. “I know I’m ugly and I- I bet you can’t w-w-wait to go to MIT, to go away from me!”

“Babydoll,” is what leaves Tony’s mouth, so soft Peter almost doesn’t hear it. His hands are shaking as they land on his younger brother’s cheeks. Warm tears are gently brushed away by his thumbs. “Pete.”

Brow furrowed, Peter slowly opens his eyes and blinks the tears back in order to look at his brother. Tony looks...scared? What does he have to be scared of?

Peter tries to pull away, out of Tony’s grasp but the older teen just clutches him tighter. “Tony- What? It’s fine, j-just stop! Let me go, I need to finish-”

Tony closes his eyes and crashes their lips together.

don’t hate me

@spidey-sins @silkystark @thegreenmetblue @snailshome @hp-nv-221b @lemondrop313

if you wanna be untagged lmk

#starker #tony x peter #tony stark x peter parker #starkercest #bloo writes bad things (tm)

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cuddlepilefics · 3 years

Text

Timeout

Fandom: Stray Kids

Little: Felix (age 3)

Caregiver: Chan (daddy), Changbin (dada)

Felix’ POV.:

We had all had a very stressful time lately, so the time we littles had to regress was very limited. I was lucky today, the dance line had finished their work in the early afternoon, so I could go back to the dorm and relax. At first it was only Minho, Hyunjin and me at the dorm, having lunch together before Minho-hyung got a call from Channie-hyung to go and pick Jisung up. My twin, also a little like me, had snapped under the pressure and slipped into his headspace while at the studio with 3racha. I wasn’t too worried about Jisung being little because he’d finally get some rest and while waiting for his caregiver to get him, he was with the two most amazing caregivers any little could wish for. Chan and Changbin have been taking care of my little self for a bit over a year now and they were really good at it. Just thinking about all the soft time we spent together made me feel fuzzy. It had been a while since I last regressed. Usually, I’d have to regress at least twice a week to keep my anxiety at bay but with how tight our schedule was…. How long has it been? Three weeks or maybe four? Yeah, I think it has been around four weeks since I last slipped and I could feel it. Focusing on any task proved to be a struggle, which was the main reason we took so long to learn the choreo and I could tell my two hyungs were starting to get annoyed. Luckily, Minho is a caregiver and therefore a bit more patient and understanding with me.

I should really regress soon, all those big thoughts racing through my head were starting to get overwhelming, so I barely got any sleep lately. No, I didn’t tell my caregivers because I could see that they were just as stressed as me, Chan-hyung probably worse, so I just held my stuffed bunny a bit tighter at night. It was probably a good thing that I couldn’t fall asleep since I often get nightmares. The only people who could calm me down afterwards were my caregivers but they barely spent anytime at the dorm and wouldn’t be there when I woke up shaking with tears streaming down my face. I barely saw them even when I was big and I missed them badly, I couldn’t regress now because I knew my little self would only miss them more and I didn’t think I could take being without them. A loud squeal pulled me from my thoughts and I recognized Jisung’s voice. Minho and him were back from the studio and Hyunjin joined them to play with little Sungie in the living room. I had missed Sungie too but I couldn’t join them because my little friend would always make me slip too. Putting on headphones, I lay my aching body down on the bed and tried to drown them out.

I didn’t know how much time had passed, when suddenly there was someone next to me. Startling, I pulled off the headphones and looked at Hyunjin, who just looked as startled at my reaction. “Sorry, I knocked but you obviously didn’t hear it over your music”, he chuckled, “Sungie missed you and I wanted to ask if you’d like to come play with us too.” Biting my lip, I looked down at my lap. The invitation sounded tempting but I would for sure slip, being surrounded with all those toys. “Lix, you can be little too, if that’s what you’re worried about.” There it was, the sentence that made my resolve crumble. The person telling me that it was okay to slip but was it really? The only people who could tell me that weren’t here. My glossy eyes met Hyunjin’s and I whispered: “Hyung, I can’t. I haven’t slipped for so long and I’d need my caregivers here with me if I was going to be little.” The older gave me a sad smile, knowing as well as me that Chan and Changbin wouldn’t be coming home anytime soon. “We know you haven’t slipped in a while. Our little sunshine is barely smiling anymore, that’s why we thought it’d do you some good to spend this rare free afternoon in your headspace. Yeah, I’m neither a caregiver, nor are we as close to you as your caregivers but we don’t mind taking care of you for the time being, plus Jisung would be playing with you so you don’t even have the time to miss them. Just think about it, Lixxie”, Hyunjin explained, taking a seat next to me and pulling me into a hug. It felt great, I couldn’t remember the last time I got a proper hug, which is a big deal for me with how cuddly of a person I am. We sat in silence for a few minutes and I was grateful Hyunjin didn’t let go, feeling how much I needed the physical comfort right now. Resting my head on my hyung’s shoulder, I closed my eyes and let go of my adult mindset. For the first time in what felt like forever, my mind was nice and quiet, the racing had stopped and the weight on my chest, preventing me from breathing properly, had vanished. I opened my eyes again and blinked up at the person holding me. That wasn’t my daddy and it wasn’t my dada either. “Hyungie?”, I whispered. Hyunjin looked at me stroking his slender fingers through my hair: “Hey there, sunshine.”

Noone’s POV.:

Finally losing his fight, Felix slipped in the arms of his hyung. He was disappointed when he opened his eyes to see none of his caregivers around but Hyunjin’s hold still gave him a sense of security. The older had meant to return to the living room with Felix right away. However, the way the Aussie snuggled up to him told him to just stay put for a bit and ignore the noises of an excited Jisung running from his caregiver. Usually, Jisung was the quiet and sensitive little, while Felix was the energetic one but today their roles seemed reversed. “Those are some really cute freckles you got there”, Hyunjin hummed, tapping the little’s cheek repeatedly. Felix giggled and buried his face in the older’s shirt to hide the pink dusting his cheeks. A loud whine made them both stare at the door. Apparently, Minho had finally caught the young rapper, who didn’t seem too happy about it. Hyunjin felt a small tug on his shirt and smiled at the little pointing at the door after hearing his friend in the next room. The little grabbed his stuffed bunny just in time before getting scooped up by his hyung, who then carried him to the living room. The older set him down on the carpet, where Felix came face to face with his twin.

Jisung was in one of his older headspaces somewhere around six years old, which explained his noisy personality. “LIXXIE”, the rapper screamed, squeezing the other tightly, “I missed you soo muuuuuch!” The Aussie only blinked in surprise, but then breaking into small giggles at the older little’s silly behavior. “Come, Lix, play tag, play tag”, Jisung yelled, tugging at the younger’s sleeve. Felix flinched, it was too loud and he didn’t feel like running around, considering how sore his muscles still felt. He whined, shrugging the rapper’s hand off and burying his face in the soft fur of his plushie. Jisung’s smile dropped and he tried to pull the bunny away to look at his dongsaeng’s face. Felix thought he wanted to take is plushie away only clutched it tighter. “Lixxie sad!”, the older exclaimed, pointing at his friend. “Nuh, nuh sad”, the Aussie denied, lowering the plushie and putting on a convincing smile. It wasn’t a complete lie, he wasn’t sad, just overwhelmed, or was he? Tilting his head, Jisung pouted: “Play? What do you wanna play?” The other shrugged, not feeling in the mood to do anything before moving closer to the couch and crawling into Hyunjin’s lap.

While Hyunjin gently rocked the little in his arms, Jisung waddled over to his caregiver. Remembering his inside voice, he looked at the older with doe eyes: “Appa, why Lixxie don’t want play with Sungie?” – “I think Lixxie is just tired and really little right now”, Minho sighed, “Hey, Felix, maybe the two of you could color or watch a cartoon together.” The Aussie nodded making grabby hands at Jisung and pointing at the TV. The two littles cuddled up together and Hyunjin covered them with a blanket while Minho turned on a cartoon both of them liked. The caregiver gave Jisung a soft kiss on the forehead before walking to the kitchen to fill two sippy cups with juice. It were small gestures like this, that made Felix miss his caregivers so much more and he envied the other, that his caregiver came to his aid right away when he heard that he slipped. Did his caregivers even care about him anymore? They always favored their work, at least that’s how Felix felt. Hyunjin prepared a small snack for all four of them and Minho fed his little like he always did, despite him not being that young. Jisung giggled with stuffed cheeks missing how jealous the younger looked. “Come on, Lixxie, you should eat something too, you need the energy after dancing so much”, Hyunjin encouraged, frowning as the little shook his head and avoided his eyes. He never ate by himself when he was little, one of his caregivers always fed him. Of course, the boy would never ask anyone else to feed him, that was a thing between him and his caregivers only.

When another happy squeal came from Jisung, Felix couldn’t take it anymore and fled to his room with his bunny in his arms. He slammed the door shut and locked it, breaking two of their rules at once. Hyunjin had followed the little, feeling that something wasn’t right. He tried to enter the room only to find the door locked. “Lix, please let me in. You know that we don’t lock the doors here”, the dancer said in a warning tone, unaware that the little was fighting back his tears on the other side of the door. Another voice could be heard from the hallway: “Felix, if you don’t open the door before I count to three, you’re going into time out for twenty minutes.” Now, Minho’s caregiver voice could be very authoritative but Felix wouldn’t give in, the older wasn’t his caregiver after all. “One” The Aussie scooted further into the corned, slipping the ear of his plushie between his lips. “Two” The little squeezed his eyes shut as he heard some clicking noises from their lock picking attempts. “Three. That’s it. Time out now!”, Minho announced sternly, walking through the now open door. Felix’ face paled, he hadn’t expected them to be actually able to get in. Scrambling to his feet, he ran, pushing past the two members in his doorway. He wanted to run from the dorm but was stopped by Jisung who was still waiting in the living room, happily playing with his toy cars. The younger got angry at how happy the other little looked, envying him for the affection he got from his caregiver. “Lixxie, let’s play”, the rapper urged, getting up to pull Felix over to the carpet. “Nuh, Lix nuh wike! Go ‘way!”, the Aussie whined, pushing the shorter away harder than he would have needed to. Jisung fell and started to cry, unable to comprehend why his friend suddenly hated him so much. The incident had given Minho enough time to catch up to them and he angrily pulled Felix by his wrist, making him sit in the timeout corner before he went to comfort the crying Jisung. Hyunjin had used the time to call Chan and Changbin, begging them to come home because Felix was little and wouldn’t listen to them.

While the two caregivers were on their way home already pissed at their little for making things difficult on a stressful day, on which they couldn’t really afford to go home early, the little quietly sat in the corner. He didn’t feel the need to cry anymore, who would care anyways? Staring blankly into space, he held his stuffed bunny close to his chest, glad he hadn’t dropped it when trying to run away. It was the only one that still cared about little Lixxie, after losing his caregivers and friends, the boy couldn’t lose his beloved bunny too. Felix faintly heard the other little’s sniffles grow quieter but it didn’t matter to him that he made his friend cry, there was someone to comfort him when he cried after all. If Felix cried now, there would be no one. He didn’t feel sad, he didn’t feel much at all besides emptiness and a dull pain in his chest. The little didn’t even notice how the door opened and his caregivers walked in. Were they still his caregivers? There were still nine more minutes on the timer, then he’d be able to go back to his room and curl up under his fluffy blanket. It probably still smelled like his hyungs after all their cuddle sessions.

Chan and Changbin were watching the little from their seat on the couch, it didn’t seem like he was aware of their presence, or at least he chose not to acknowledge it. The timer rang and Felix slowly got up to trudge to his room, his motions zombie-like and his face emotionless. He had already made it halfway through the living room when Chan cleared his throat. “Where do you think you’re going?”, he asked coldly. The little froze at the familiar voice, looking up at his two caregivers. Suddenly all the emotions came back, reflecting in his eyes and making him feel so broke. All he wanted to do was to run into his daddy’s arms because that always made him feel like everything was ok but the caregiver’s cold expression stopped him. Shyly looking over at his dada, Felix had to realize that he wouldn’t get a hug from him either. “Why, Felix, just why? You hurt Jisung and made him cry. You broke the rules and didn’t listen to your hyungs. Why? You couldn’t just be grateful for having a free afternoon and the chance to distress. Your hyungs offered to take care of you but then you misbehave. You know we were busy but you made us come home. After Jisung left we had to work extra hard because it was only two of us left and you chose to make it even more difficult for us. Just so you know, I am really disappointed in you, Felix”, the leader scolded, his tone icy and dripping with disappointment. If there was one thing worse than an angry Chan, it was a disappointed one. Felix helplessly looked over at Changbin only to see him cross his arms. Chan had said it himself, Jisung had made things hard for them by slipping in the first place but they were nothing but nice to him. He wasn’t even their little but they treated him so gentle and understanding, while all Felix needed was a hug and all he got were cold glares.

It had almost been a minute of the caregivers waiting for Felix to explain himself but he couldn’t. The little didn’t even know why he was so bad today and he couldn’t take the heavy silence anymore. Breaking down into tears, the young Aussie made a run for it, slipping into his room and shutting the door as quiet as he could before sliding down with his back against the door. Harsh sobs wracked his shoulders and he tried to calm himself by hugging his bunny only to notice he had dropped it on the way. His cries grew louder and he felt his chest tighten making it hard to breath. Part of him had expected the caregivers to follow him, even if it was just to yell at him for running off during their talk, but nobody came and that hurt so much more. In a desperate attempt to calm himself down, Felix slipped his thumb into his mouth sucking on it. He was out of breath and his eyes stung but it didn’t matter because the pain in his heart was worse. The little felt so tired. Too tired to cry really. Sucking on his thumb he was reduced to hiccups with the occasional tear running down his cheek.

Minho had been in his room to calm Jisung down but Hyunjin had watched the commotion and after having had a weird feeling before, he decided to step in and talk to the stressed caregivers. The dancer sat them down on the couch again and described the afternoon from his perspective. Yes, he admitted that Felix had definitely acted out but that he was a bit off before and that at least to Hyunjin it seemed that there was something deeper behind the littles actions. Hearing his dongsaeng’s worried voice, made Chan think again. Felix didn’t usually act out and although Hyunjin had no experience as a caregiver, the leader trusted him with his judgement. The oldest repeatedly ran a hand through his already disheveled hair, not knowing how to approach the little after his outburst. Truth be told, the leader had just been too stressed to view the situation from an objective view and he knew he had scared Felix too much for the younger to be able to explain himself. Changbin knew that too and put a comforting hand on his hyung’s shoulder before getting up and making his way to the room they shared with Felix. He heard choked hiccups from the other side but got no reply to knocking on the door. Trying the handle, he found the door unlocked but still wasn’t able to open it. “Lixxie, let dada in please”, he sighed, resting his forehead against the wood. There was some shuffling and then silence. Trying the door again, he stepped in. The room was dim, since it was already evening and the little hadn’t bothered to turn on the light but he could still see the figure sitting hunched over on the floor.

For the sake of Felix’s irritated eyes and his own headache, Changbin decided against turning the lights on, instead closing the door behind him and scooping the little into his arms. He had expected at least some resistance considering how upset both parties were at each other but Felix just let him do whatever, not really caring what happened to himself. The rapper swayed them both from side to side, rubbing the little’s back as he felt the small chest hitch with exhausted hiccups. Despite his own exhaustion, it wasn’t too difficult to hold Felix, had the boy lost weight? The Aussie had always been skinny but this was different. He was hesitant, not knowing what to say for fear of having the situation escalate again but he tried, keeping his voice gentle: “Kitten can you tell dada what’s been up today? You’re usually such a good boy.” The Aussie shook his head, burying his face in his caregiver’s shoulder. “That’s okay, baby”, he hummed, “Maybe you can tell us when you’re ready?” Felix sniffled but nodded against the older. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up a bit. You feel icky, don’t you?” Another small nod, so Changbin turned to the door, carrying the little to the bathroom. He put Felix down on the counter but the little didn’t approve of being out of the older’s arms, afraid the caregiver would walk out and leave him there. Changbin had to stand between the younger’s legs, who clutched onto his sweater, limiting how far the rapper could move away. The bright bathroom light was a stark contrast to the darkness in their bedroom, causing both boys to squint a bit. The caregiver cringed at how red and swollen the little’s eyes lids were, that definitely had to hurt. Only now did he notice the dark bags under Felix eyes, which could even make Chan’s eyebags look harmless. Did Felix not sleep at all recently? “Hey, easy now! I’m not going to leave but I need to grab a washcloth from that cabinet over there”, Changbin whispered, removing the tiny hands from his shirt and holding them in one of his. It allowed him to stretch just far enough to take out a washcloth and towel before turning back to his little.

They stayed silent while Changbin ran the washcloth under warm water, squeezing it till the cloth was only damp before gently wiping the drying tearstains off of Felix’ puffed up cheeks. Then he soaked the cloth in cold water, covering the Aussie’s eyes with it in hopes the cold would sooth the swelling. “There, kitten, does that feel better?”, he cooed, receiving a shy nod against his hand. He kept the cool cloth in place for a few minutes till it became warm, then he removed it and pat Felix’ face dry before applying a thin layer of moisturizer. The caregiver also made sure to put a generous amount of strawberry flavored chapstick onto his little’s lips because they looked so chapped, they could start bleeding any moment. Stepping closer, Changbin wrapped his arms around the younger, who exhaustedly dropped his face against the rapper’s collarbone. Not wanting to break their embrace anytime soon, the caregiver kept one arm on Felix’ back and used the other to check his phone, so the little couldn’t see it. He had a message from Chan, telling him he was preparing a bottle for their little and that they should spend the rest of the evening cuddling after Chan apologized. Changbin quickly texted back asking the leader to add a generous amount of honey to the little’s milk because the sweetness was calming and the nutrients were urgently needed, given how light and weak the boy in his arms seemed. Feeling Felix nuzzle against him, the older put his phone away and carried the little back to their room. He pulled out a pair of his own shorts and a hoodie from Chan before approaching Felix on his bed: “Alrighty, arms up kitten, let’s put on a fresh sweater, it’s daddy’s. I know you like his the most.” The younger looked at him, eyes becoming teary again. “He nuh wan’ me weaw it. Daddy mad at Lixxie”, he breathed, trying to keep from crying again. “No, no, no, daddy loves when you wear his clothes”, Changbin promised, helping the younger to change quickly, “We both love when our kitten wears our clothes, you look so cute and tiny in them.” Felix turned bright red, bringing the sweater paws up to cover his face as he whined: “Dada chu make me all fuzzy.”

Both wearing a fresh change of clothes, the pair sat on Felix’ bed, with the little in Changbin’s lap as he wanted to enjoy his caregiver’s affection as long as it lasted. That’s what Chan walked in on, carrying his dongsaeng’s plushie and bottle. The younger visibly tensed when the leader entered the room, clutching Changbin tighter and holding his breath. “Ssh, it’s ok, seems like none of us have been having the greatest day today, huh?”, the oldest shushed, crouching next to the bed, “I’m sorry for venting my anger at you without even listening to your side of the story. Can you forgive daddy?” Felix gave a small nod and shyly looked up to face his caregiver, immediately spotting the bunny in his hand. The leader saw how the younger’s previously dull eyes lit up and handed the plushie to him, smiling at how gently the little cradled it against his chest. “Aww sweetie, did you miss him?”, he cooed but Felix’ face grew sad. Looking down at his stuffed bunny, he admitted barely audible: “Missed chu mowe.” The caregiver’s made eye-contact, their hearts breaking and the hurt in their little’s voice. “We missed you too, darling, I’m sorry we didn’t even think to check on you between work”, Changbin whispered remorsefully. Squeezing onto the bed next to them the oldest hummed: “Why don’t you have your bottle and them we’ll all go to sleep, hm? It’s been a long and exhausting day and at least daddy needs some cuddles right now.” – “Dada needs cuddles too”, Changbin was quick to agree. Nodding Felix reached for Chan’s hand as he mumbled: “Lixxie cuddles too.” The leader gently took the little into his arms, leaning against the headboard to feed him his bottle while Changbin dimmed the lights and retrieved Felix’ fluffy blanket that they always used when cuddling. He carefully spread it over his friends before climbing under it too and wrapping his arms around his little family. Yes, they do have their up and downs but in the end they always make it out ok.

#skz #stray kids #little #little space #headspace #agere #age regression #angst #fluff #fanfic #fanfiction #lee felix #bang chan #seo changbin #comfort #whump

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woodrokiro · 3 years

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Do It For the Band, Part Three (fic)

Fandom: Bleach

Pairing: IchiRuki

Summary: When Tatsuki said she wanted their sophomore album to be the next Rumours, this is NOT what she meant. Band AU. Read Part One here and Part Two here

Here’s the thing: Ichigo is not an asshole.

He’s not a misogynist, he doesn’t believe in that men-are-better-than-women bullshit--and that includes the topic of music. Yeah, he loves Jim Morrison and David Bowie and Bob Dylan something fierce--but he’s also a sucker for Nina Simone and Stevie Nicks, for Janis Joplin and Joni Mitchell. Does he hide a tear or two when A Case of You comes onto his “For Mom” Spotify playlist?

None of your damn business. (But yes.)

And maybe this is all to over-explain: he doesn’t have a problem with women challenging him. Look no further than Tatsuki for proof.

… He just has an issue with Rukia challenging him.

And--okay--look. She’s excellent. The stuff that she’s written is so well-crafted it makes his teeth grind in envy, and what she can do with the piano is incredible. She’s talented, she’s brave, she knows a good melody when she hears one, she’s got an electric stage presence, not to mention she’s insanely pretty--

… Talented. She’s insanely pretty talented. Did he already say that?

But all of that does not give her the right to drive him this up the wall.

“I’m telling you,” she repeats coolly, so slowly like she’s explaining something to a child, “I’m telling you, those bars do not work here. It clashes with the lyrics--here, do it again on your guitar, I’ll sing. It sounds clunky.”

“That’s the point! It’s not supposed to be clean!” He runs his hand roughly through his hair, but grabs the guitar from beside him anyway. They’re sitting on the ground in his garage, an hour or so before practice with the rest of the band.

They’ve been at this for a week already, and they’ve had a collective collaboration of…. One. One song that was Rukia’s original creation, and it was like pulling damn teeth to make his own edits. With a song from Chad, that leaves two for their album, and… Six more to go.

Six more to go when they’ve only got three weeks left to make them.

“I understand you weren’t classically trained like I was--”

“Thank God for that, boring shit isn’t my style--”

“How dare you!”

“All right, all right! Look I’m sorry.” He puts his hands up defensively as she huffs, and he is sorry. Kind of. He might enjoy riling her up as much as she does him, but that’s beside the point.

“What I mean is…. I chose these bars with the lyrics because it’s messy. Hear me out: it’s a heartbreak song. Right? This important person in this kid’s life died, right? And he’s trying to get through it. He’s trying to comprehend how something so fucked can happen to the best person he’s known, and--he’s struggling. To understand, to go through his life the same way, whatever. And it’s beyond him. So… This bridge is his having these overwhelming emotions, and stumbling through each individual thought because nothing makes sense. So… It’s not supposed to sound pretty, if that makes sense? Like, the point of the song is it sounds good, just not in a traditional way. Because that’s doing an injustice, to make it sound nice.”

She’s staring at him with an unreadable expression, and Ichigo tries to rewind and remember if he said anything about the song being about his mom’s death. He didn’t--but then he realizes he may as well have.

He clears his throat, looks down and plucks a couple of chords on the guitar to distract himself. “Okay, fine. It’s stupid, let’s just move on to--”

“The line ‘What distracts us from losing someone when they were everything?’ That’s good. I like that a lot. What if you expanded on that, in the bridge?”

“... You got any ideas for that?”

“No. It’s your song, your experience. You do what you want with it.” She shrugs, and rifles through the rest of her notes. He realizes he should probably say something, something like “That’s it?” or “When my mom died I played her favorite album, Jodi Mitchell’s Blue every day for a whole year,” but he’s stumped.

“... Rukia--”

“Just give me the edits and I’ll tell you everything you did wrong.” Her eyes glint, and he rolls his own.

“Yeah yeah, now let’s see what you’ve got, Mozart.”

Tatsuki doesn’t know what they’ve been up to for the past three weeks, but whatever’s been going on: it’s working.

The first week was a rough start, when all the vocalists could present her and Chad was a song that--while good--was… One song. Tatsuki thought she was gonna have an aneurism, Rukia looked down sheepishly, Ichigo tried to argue back but looked guilty anyway, and Chad sipped his tea.

“You’re not worried?!” She spun around to her bassist while the lead singers sauntered off, thoroughly chastened. “We’re about to be out of jobs because of those two, how can you just sit there drinking tea?”

Chad shrugged. “No, I’m not really worried. Actually, I think your plan is working a lot better than you think it is.”

She’s about to go off on Chad. Plan? What plan? You’d think I was playing some cupid matchmaker, not maintaining our record deal the way you say that!

But she took one good look at him and sighs. Fighting with Chad isn’t really a fight.

Especially when she’s proved yet again that he’s always right.

The two have just acoustically performed all seven songs that they’ve created, topped off at the end with a song called Sun and Moon that’s bound to be their first single, no question about it. It’s a duet about falling in love with someone who challenges you, and while Tatsuki can easily pinpoint the lyrics Ichigo wrote for it--wow. Somehow in just three weeks the quality of his writing has gotten exponentially better, and she can’t help but feel proud of him.

His strong, gravelly voice with Rukia’s delicate warble ends the last note with a haunting harmony, and the others of the team--Tatsuki, Chad, and Urahara--are silent until Urahara lets out a low whistle.

“Well shit.” He adjusts his hat, chuckling. “I think we’ve got an album, team.”

Tatsuki grins and agrees.

Besides the occasional scuffles, Ichigo and Rukia are both rather civilized in the recording room. No storm-outs, no stony silence as they all tune up. The process is….Cordial?

In fact, Tatsuki thinks as she watches them, heads together with the producer, sharing a pair of headphones, If I didn’t know better, I’d say they’re…

She doesn’t hear the conversation, but Ichigo’s turned to Rukia and says something with a snide sideways smirk, and Rukia slaps the back of her hand to his belly with a hard THWAP. Ichigo doubles over, but he’s laughing and she’s shaking her head but she’s smiling and--

Well shit.

The drummer doesn’t have much time to panic about this, though, as just a few seconds later the two ask if everyone’s ready to record the next song.

She breathes in, breathes out. Soul Vibes really is shaping up to be an awesome album, at least.

#ichiruki #bleach #my stuff #ichigo kurosaki #rukia kuchiki #not me unable to resist doing an Ichigo POV!!!!!#I can't help myself

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emmerrr · 4 years

Note

Possible prompt if you’re interested could be Declan finally seeing one of the portraits Jordan does of him! Alternatively, jordeclan moving in together and creating a space where neither of them has to hide themself in an attic

i can’t resist a moving in fic and i’m sorry this took so long

It’s late afternoon when the final box is removed from the moving van, and just for a moment, the excitement is overshadowed by the overwhelming task of unpacking that lies ahead.

Boxes, boxes, everywhere. Declan closes the front door and follows a trail of them to the bedroom where he finds Jordan, curled up on top of the bed they’ve not long finished making. Her eyes are shut, her breathing even, but Declan isn’t fooled.

He crosses his arms and leans nonchalantly against the doorframe. “Faker.”

Jordan affects a snore which makes Declan laugh, and she opens an eye, that wicked grin that stole his heart spreading across her face. She pats the empty space beside her. “You know you want to.”

He really, really does. He kicks off his shoes and crawls up beside her, his feet instantly grateful for the reprieve. He groans happily, sinking his face into the softest pillow in the world. He feels Jordan press her face into his arm and turns his head, and for a moment they just watch each other.

“We have so much unpacking to do,” Declan finally says.

Jordan nods. “We do. Don’t worry, it’s not going anywhere.” She lifts Declan’s arm and tucks herself underneath, then kisses his collarbone.

He sighs, happily resigned to his fate. The house is still a mess of boxes, they need some more furniture, and the whole thing is still too new and alien for it to quite feel like home. But with Jordan in his arms, nodding off to sleep in the bed they now share in the place that’s just theirs, it’s the closest to home Declan’s ever felt.

“What do you think?”

“It’s hideous.”

“Isn’t it?” Jordan says dreamily. “Sit on it.”

Declan eyes the armchair dubiously. It’s some kind of paisley print in the most garish of colour schemes; bright pink and orange, smatterings of yellow and turquoise. “It won’t go with the rest of the living room furniture,” he tries.

“Your doubts are duly noted,” Jordan says sagely. “Sit.”

“...This feels like a trap.”

“Sit.”

Declan sits.

It’s the most comfortable chair he’s ever had the pleasure of sitting on, and he does everything he can not to let his face give that fact away. He shrugs. “It’s alright.”

Jordan grins the grin of the triumphant, and Declan knows they’re getting it.

He tries to imagine it in their space, and suddenly finds that he can. He can picture where it will go; at an angle, equidistant from the fireplace and the TV. He can picture them in the winter, him and Jordan cuddled up together, blanket tossed over them, snow falling outside, the light of the fire covering the whole room in a cozy glow.

He thinks he might be going soft, and he thinks that might be okay.

“I told you we’d find something in a thrift store,” Jordan says, her fingers twined through his as she leads him to the checkout counter.

He pulls her hand to his mouth, kisses it gently. “So you did.”

The furniture is pulled back from the walls and newspaper covers the floor as Jordan and Declan stand, paint rollers in hand, transforming their bedroom walls from a bland and safe off-white to a lovely deep forest-green.

Jordan’s phone is playing music through wireless speakers, a playlist that seems to jump from Rihanna to Metallica to Taylor Swift to Arcade Fire to some K-pop band Declan doesn’t know the name of, and so on, in no discernable pattern that he can follow.

“What playlist is this?”

Jordan smiles wryly. “It’s all songs that Hennessy hates.”

Declan thinks about that, and about all the canvases in the spare room that Jordan has set up as her art studio, original pieces that she started and then aborted.

“Is there still a part of you,” he says carefully, “that thinks everything you like, or create, or choose, is really just some facet of Hennessy’s personality and not truly your own?”

Jordan’s expression hardens, and he knows he’s hit a nerve. “That depends,” she says evenly. “Is there still a part of you that thinks this is doomed? You and me?”

It’s Declan’s turn for a wry smile. “Touché.”

Their love story is a unique one, and Declan can’t deny he’s had his moments of thinking that it’s all going to end in flames. But through it all he also knows that he’d still be here, even if they were heading towards their inevitable end. He wants this, for as long as he can have it.

It’s hard to stop constantly thinking about worst case scenarios, because it’s so ingrained in Declan to do just that. But Jordan quiets that part of his brain with a touch, or even a look. Just being in her presence is a balm to his heart and his mind.

They’re happy. And maybe they’ll be okay. Who’s to say?

“For the record,” he says at last, “I don’t think this is doomed.”

“No?”

He shakes his head. “No. And also, you are your own person, independent of Hennessy.”

“You think?”

“I know.”

Jordan puts down her roller, and cups Declan’s face, bringing it down to hers as she kisses him. She’s probably getting paint on his face, but he doesn’t care; not now, not ever.

“For what it’s worth, you are the best choice I ever made,” she says fiercely, her forehead pressed to his.

He kisses her again, soft. “It’s worth everything.”

“When are you going to put your paintings up?”

It’s a fair question. They’ve been here almost four months now, and everything from Declan’s attic in the D.C. house is still leaning up against the wall in Jordan’s art studio, covered over.

“There’s no attic here.”

“Ha, ha,” Jordan says sarcastically.

The truth is, he doesn’t know quite why he hasn’t gotten around to it. At first it was for practical reasons; they had painting and other repair work to do in several rooms, so it made sense to wait until that was all finished.

But it is finished now, and it has been for weeks, and other art pieces and photographs have gone up; some of it Jordan’s own work, some that she bought (or stole) once upon a time, some that they bought together. But nothing from his own collection, nothing that he had kept locked up for his eyes only until Jordan had shown up and gently prised the key from his hand.

His silence drags for so long that Jordan drops the sarcasm. She puts her hand on his chest. “This is our place. Yours and mine. You don’t have to hide here.”

Because he has been hiding away, for years, so much so that it’s habit more than anything that seemingly forbade him from doing anything that wasn’t cookie-cutter.

But Jordan sees him, she knows him; the real him behind the slick, designer veneer, and that’s the part she loves.

The part that wears fancy shoes.

“Come on, then,” he says, taking her hand. “You can help me decide where they should go.”

“I’m so glad you said that because actually I already have some ideas,” she says, and that's how they spend the afternoon.

They take Declan out of the attic, one piece at a time.

It’s quiet when Declan gets home. He takes his shoes off by the door and hangs his coat up, then makes his way through the house, peeking in each of the rooms in search of Jordan.

She’s not in the living room, where Declan’s favourite hideous armchair now lives. Matthew fell asleep in it on New Year’s Eve, and Ronan drew a monocle and handlebar moustache on his face. It had been a quiet one; they’d played games most of the evening, almost all of which were won by Adam, and at midnight Ronan and Hennessy had been in charge of the dream fireworks they set off outside.

The kitchen is also empty when Declan scans it, his eyes lingering on the slight chip in one of the floorboards from where Jordan had dropped the admittedly ridiculously heavy cast-iron skillet when they were unpacking. He remembers accidentally flipping a pancake right out of the pan and onto the burner. He remembers burnt toast and spilt coffee and broken crockery, and various other messes, but most of all he remembers the laughter that went along with all of it. The dancing in the kitchen at 2am, the doing the dishes in companionable silence, the domesticity in helping each other prepare a meal.

These are the things Declan now thinks about when he thinks about the concept of home. Maybe it’s a place where the good memories you make outweigh the ones that hurt. Maybe home is what you make of it, the stamp you put on it to make it your own. Maybe home is a person.

Maybe it’s a combination of all of those things.

Declan finds Jordan, inevitably, in her studio. She has headphones on which explains the quiet, and she’s working on a painting, the canvas almost as tall as she is. There’s no reference that Declan can see, and it’s not a copy. She’s painting just for the sake of it, a complete original.

He moves carefully around until he’s in Jordan’s eyeline, and the laser focus in her eyes shifts to a smile of delight when she spots him. There’s paint splattered on her overalls, specks of it on her face and in her hair, but she never looks more radiant than when she looks at Declan like this.

“You’re home!” she exclaims, pulling her headphones down.

“I am,” he agrees, warmth settling in his chest.

“I’d kiss you but I’m all painty.”

“I don’t care,” Declan says, and he closes the gap between them, sweeping her up into his arms as he kisses her, swallowing up her delighted little “oh!”

“You’re in a good mood,” she says with a laugh when he puts her down.

“Just happy to be home.” It’s so strange to finally be able to say that, and to really mean it. He’s home with Jordan, where he belongs. “You about ready to take a break? I was going to make coffee.”

“I’ll be out in a minute. Make me a latte?”

Declan smiles. “For you? Anything.”

#cdth #jordeclan #dreamertrilogy #tumblr prompts #trc

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chappedandfadedvds · 4 years

Text

Oct 28th, Wednesday 16:51

Robbe was off in a heartbeat, once he saw a familiar boy waiting for him by the entrance onto the school grounds. Without any regard he leaped forward and was immidiately welcomed into a big hug, picked up off the path and put down only when he had kissed his boyfriend.

„And that is Sander.“ Moyo said as a matter of fact. And in addition. „Wendsday is Sanderday.“

Lucas who was with them, as they all had just finished economics class together, looked over confused. „Sanderday?“

„Wendsday is the only day of the week that he has off earlier than us. So he can come pick him up. Sander is of course his boyfriend there, who had just dropped his precious art folder and everything else in order to catch Robbe in time.“

Jens could only nod in agreement to Moyo’s thorough explanation.

„Hence, Sanderday.“ Aaron concured. „Trust me, they will leave us behind somewhere between now and the next hour, and never been heard of again until tomorrow.“

„U-huh.“ Was all that Lucas provided as they catched up with the couple. „What’s up, boys?“ Sander greeted cheerfullfy, hugging each of the broerrs, before extanding his hand towards the newling to their group. „And you must be Lucas. Robbe, and basically everyone else, had already told me about you. Glad to be able to actually see you in person as well.“

„Great to meet you too.I hope there were only good things so far?“

„Absolutely.“ Sander proclaimed and picked up his things from the ground. „Ready to go? I actually had planned to sketch a bit by the park, if you want to come as well.“

A simultaneous shrug followed by affirmative mumbles, that made them all head towards the left, straight down the street. It was a ten minute walk tops, though they stopped for some drinks on the way. Long enough, that the sun even peaked through the clouds once they arrived.

„Lucas, can I post this on my insta? If you don’t mind, of course.“ That was Sander asking a little later, just as they had found a nice sunny spot in the park to occupy a bench. He pushed the display of his camera towards said boy’s face. Jens wasn’t sure when Sander had taken it out of his bag, but that wasn’t really what he wanted to know. Lucas seemed a bit taken a back, looking at it, as he did a double take and watched Sanders smiling face. He did sound a bit unsure of himself but replied: „Sure, I guess.“

Now everyone’s curiousity demanded a look as well. And after Moyo had sommented on it with a whistle on his lips, it finally was Jens’s turn. He wasn’t sure if he was breathing at the moment, but his jumping, beating heart, assured him he was alive. Though on second thought, maybe this was dying.

He tried not to give away, how beautiful he thought it was. Or to be more presice, the boy in it. Sander took amazing photos, that wasn’t a secret, but he captured Lucas just in such a way that Jens’s throat dired up.

Aaron took the camera off his hands, leaving him with words of protest on his lips. But luckily his brain was smarter and decided to stay quiet.

„Eh Lucas?“ Sander tapped the dutch boy on the shoulder: „If you’d be interested too. My photography course is doing editorials next month and I’d love for you to model for me. I already have the perfect idea! Trust me, it is gonna be great. Nothing too big. Maybe three, four photos? Black-White. Classy. Clean fashion editorial. We can get a designer on board and have Robbe do lights. What do you say?“

The broerrs looked at each other amused and than to Lucas who had absolutely no clue what to do. He also never had met Sander and his seemingly spontaneous grand plans before. He certainly was the type to go big or go home. Before Lucas had any chance to answer though, Robbe’s voice broke the silence.

„Here I thought I was your only muse. But now a new pretty boy comes along and where does that leave me?“ He pouted at his boyfriend, who’s grin immidiately vanished of his face, replaced by an expression of horror that Robbe would even entertain a thought like this.

„You are, and will always be my biggest muse in every universe! Always and for ever! Unconditionaly. I’d carry you on my hands each day, and would canonise the ground you are walking on. Gift you every moon, and star, and sun I’d be able to reach. The whole sky and beyond. You are the one thing I truly love more than aynthing in this world, myself included. You are...“

„Oh shut up and kiss me! Then you can go back fanboying over Lucas again.“ Robbe smirked, blushing in the brightest colours imaginable by Sander’s devout decleration of love.

„I most definitely will kiss you!“ Sander exclaimed and took a very broad and swift step towards him, his hands immidiately finding just the perfect hight on Robbe’s hips to pull him excrushingly close.

Jens felt like an intruder seeing something he shouldn’t. It felt very inapprobiate to watch, as Sander leaned in to an open-mouth kiss. Lips and teeth and tounge. Robbe reciprocated like it was air to breath, let himself fall into it, his wrists crossed behind the neck of Sander, as they devoured each other. Jens knew he never had kissed nor had ever been kissed by anyone like this. He really should look away, but just like the other boys he couldn’t quite draw his gaze from them.

He swore they had completely forgotten about Lucas, Moyo, Aaron and himself, as Robbe and Sander ended their kiss with a heavy gasp, staring into each other eyes as they pressed their forheads together.

These lucky bastards were together for almost a year and still it seemed they had just found each other anew.

Jens loudly cleared his throat, while Moyo couldn’t hold back his laughter any longer and Aaron slowly clapped, deeply impressed. Checking up on Lucas though, Jens found the dutch boy looking absolutely overwhelmed by this public display of affection. Or maybe because it was between two boys? Jens really hoped that that wasn’t the case. And it didn’t appear that Lucas had been disconcerted before when Robbe had pecked a kiss to Sander’s lips infront of the school. But that didn’t really had to mean anything, right? Jens just prayed he was wrong about the way Lucas seemed to be a bit uncomfortable at the moment.

„Seriously, I almost want to be kissed by Sander now.“ Moyo joked, patting Robbe’s back, who seemed to suddelny realise where they were.

„That could be arranged, I believe.“ Sander provided with a wink, greatly amused by Moyo’s wide eyes of total shock to the suggestion.

„Oh shit, sorry!“ Robbe said apologetic at the same time.

„All good.“ Jens let his best friend know, searching for Lucas’s eyes. „Right?“

The dutch boy suddenly looked up and over towards him, nodding strongly.

„Of course. I just...eh....it came...unexpected.“ Lucas settled on and tried a reassuring smile. „Are you always like that?“

„Like what?“ Robbe inquiered, perhaps a bit defensive. He hated when people assumed anything remotely negative when speaking about Sander, and or their relationship in general.

„So open about it? I’m sorry, I don’t think I’ve seen that before. My circle was very straight in Utrecht. But really, I didn’t mean to imply anything else by it. Honestly. Full support on my end here.“

„We are just us.“ Sander provided simply to ease the tension, while he turned back towards Lucas with a warm expression. He never let go of his boyfriend though, tucking him nicely to his side, with his arm slung around the other boy’s back for support, his hand resting on Robbe’s waist.

Lucas’s smile grew brighter, nodding reassured that this had turned out alright.

Jens released the breath he didn’t knew he had held. But it felt like some weight was lifted by Lucas not being against their relationship. Why he had been so effected though, Jens didn’t know. He assumed it just had to do with the happiniess of his best friend, that he wanted to protect.

„Trust me, they can get even worse than this. At least on two seperate occasions I had to slip out of Robbe’s room. They only have eyes for each other from one moment to the next. It’s incredible. And hands! God do they have too many hands.“ Jens told Lucas, exaggerating his annoyance over them, by rolling his eyes in a big motion. It earned him a smack by Robbe and Sander’s laughter.

„Bro! I swear to god, it happened to me too once. We were playing CoD and sat on the sofa together, until they started. I spend the next hour in the kitchen with my headphones on, not even wanting to try to get to the bathroom.“ Moyo declared and now everyone was laughing. Til Robbe decided it was enough and waved them all off.

„Okay, okay, I think everyone got the point. Can we go back now to appreciating Lucas’s beauty and how he should model for my stupid boyfriend here?“ Teased Robbe, patting Sander’s chest. Who was back on track of his mission the next second, leaving his boyfriend’s side to take his camera back from Aaron and settle into the dutch boy’s immidiate vicinity effortlessly. Jens sometimes really found himself jealous by how easy it seemed to be for Sander to do.

„So what’s your insta? I can message you everything about my idea later.“

#week 1 #wtfock #skam #vds #jens stoffels #lucas van der heijden #sobbe #finally #i miss sobbe so much is could cry #help #chapped and faded

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chemicalpink · 4 years

Text

Genius Lab ♡ Yoongi x Reader SMUT

Pairing: idol!Yoongi x reader

Genre: smut but it does have a plot I swear

Warnings: unprotected sex (you know the deal kids, wrap it before you tap it)

A/N: I wanna give credits to youtube user Johanna Sweet for her comment on some ASMR video that just made me write this, also, I know there are synastry ships in my inbox and I’ll get to it, I just had this in my docs.

Summary: Working as a producer in BigHit has its perks, like bumping into Min Yoongi late at night on a Wednesday and have him fuck your brains out in his studio, or the one where Yoongi’s crush is a mysterious producer that also happens to be his office crush, which he ends up fucking lazily while working on some music.

You've been working all day in your office.

Being a producer for BigHit entertainment is fun and all, but recently as the boys exponentially gained fame and the team has been pressured with the new projects for the comeback, you've been having a creative block for a while and it's hard to focus on making music. It doesn't help that you've also had a lot on your mind lately, as there are a handful of things going on in your personal life right now.

You get complacent as you look at the progress you've made so far staring right back at you from the dark screen in front of you and decide it's not a good amount for a day's worth of work. Perhaps staying for a bit more would do you some good, you’ve always been kind of nocturnal and it is late anyway, the building must be empty, but what good would that do if you can't seem to think of anything anyway? Maybe a break will refresh your mind.

You make sure the work is saved before taking the headphones off and standing up, stretching your back from all the hours that have gone by with you hunched over the keyboard; making sure to place correctly the fluffy slippers your mum got you and grabbing your bottle from the desk, you make a stop at the restroom before refilling your plastic drink container at a water fountain by that enormous and outstanding floor to ceiling window, it's pitch dark outside, the inside lights are dim from no one being around and through the clear crystal, you can see the millions of Seoul's city lights, the sight one to fill your heart with tranquillity.

Suddenly you hear the soft swishing of sandals on the tile floors and you turn around to see none other than a messy mop of platinum hair that you so familiarly recognise as Yoongi. He goes to a refrigerator that's across the room from you, most probably having memorised the way there as there is no light except the one coming from the machine and grabs his favourite drink. As he cracks open the lid, he looks over at you through the dishevelled blond strands of hair falling into his eyes.

"You're not going home yet?" he asks, you guys haven’t really even being introduced properly, except for those times at company meetings so this is probably the longest interaction you’ve ever had.

"Nah, I'm working late." He nods his head at your response and takes a sip of his drink, tired eyes never leaving you. He then makes his way toward the hallway that you both came from, but you stop him.

"Hey, um... work has been slow lately. Can I chill in your office with you?" You honestly don’t know what when through your head when the words left your mouth, it is well known that Min Yoongi is very picky when it comes to his studio, even the members could count with one hand the times they’d been inside.

He seems a bit surprised as he stares blankly at you for a couple of seconds. "In my office?" Of course, he remembers you from the meetings, and you two have only passed by each other in the company building a few times and made small talk maybe once but he would be lying if he were to say he didn’t find you attractive even in your fluffy bright pink slippers you were wearing right now.

He doesn’t know why you asked him such a question when you barely know each other, but he kind of finds it endearing. Maybe you just want to know what being in the Genius Lab is like, what all the fuzz that doesn’t pass by any of the company members being afraid of even breathing next to his studio door is about.

"Yeah. I don't know," you reply, "I just thought maybe it would clear my head, you know? You can keep working like you usually do, I won't bother you."

He takes another sip before nodding his head again. "Okay." He starts walking down the hallway and you follow right behind until you both make it to his door and he quickly types the numbers to his password and lets you in first “Make yourself comfortable on the couch, hope you don’t mind me working with the speakers on”

You shake your head and beside his working chair at the same time he does in front of the multiple monitors, clicking away to keep on working on whatever it is that he was on. A couple of minutes went by that way, with you watching him silently as he changed tunes and adjusted keys to the track, until a soft way too familiar melody made its way through the speakers had you sitting up straight in the couch “That’s..”

“I’m inspiring myself on one of my favourite producer’s tracks,” he explained as his eyes tore from the screen to look at you “I swear they are one of the most talented producers of our time, such a shame they are a complete mystery” you swore your heart stopped for a whole second when you heard his words, Min fucking Yoongi, found your tracks to be his inspiration, he considered you talented, one of the best even “But you’re an expert too, what do you think?”

“You really think so?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Well… I used to be so self-conscious of that track you know?” Yoongi turned to look at you like you had just grown three heads in the span of a second.

His tiredness must have really caught up to him, his mind making him imagine things, he surely wasn’t sitting next to his music crush at 11 pm of a Wednesday, inside his studio as she sat next to him listening to his track, it just wasn’t possible “Wait, so you’re telling me that-” he cleared his throat in an attempt to gain some confidence back now that he clearly exposed his crush “That you’re Moz-art? The producer?”

His sparkling amused eyes that wouldn’t leave your face made the heat rise up to your cheeks as you looked down towards your palms playing with the hem of your shirt “yeah”

“My god” he inhaled sharply and let out a nervous giggle before running a hand through his hair, this wasn’t happening to him, but what other chance would he have? He knew he had a crush on you, (Y/N) (Y/L/N) from BigHit, of course, he had a massive crush on you as Moz-art but to learn that both of his crushes were actually the same person? And that he had you all alone for him right now? That was messing with his head; however, he was quick to place a gentle hand under your chin to lift your gaze to his, letting the silence settle in “Can I kiss you?”

The kiss started slow, timid even and honest to say, a little awkward as Yoongi refused to move from his spinny chair, until the room suddenly felt overwhelmingly hot and he felt the need to pull you towards him, making you sit on his lap as he caressed your sides.

You kept your eyes shut tight, a moan escaping your lips as he trailed his mouth and teeth along the exposed skin of your neck and right shoulder from your shirt falling down a bit, his warm hands holding you tightly as his hard cock poked your clothed crotch and you unconsciously moved your hips against it, earning a groan from the blond man. His touch was gentle but somewhat rough as he stripped you of your black sweatpants and panties, leaning back to admire your almost naked form, your oversized shirt barely covering your centre.

“Fuck..” he mumbled as he holds you tight and lifted you a bit to pull his own baggy pants and boxers down enough to free his cock, positioning himself between your legs as he searched for your eyes to hold your gaze as you swallowed him whole, face contorted with pleasure as he started to thrust into you, reaching up to capture your lips in a kiss, one hand behind your lower back to keep you steady, the other finding its way to rub circles on your clit, making you arch your back at the newly found feeling, his mouth quickly attaching to your neck once again; after a few minutes of his cock thrusting in and out, he could feel your walls squeezing him. “Shit, cum with me baby”

His hand picked up the pace in between your bodies, fingers expertly rubbing your clit as his thrust became fast-paced and deeper, as deep as the angle of being lazily fucking on a chair could allow you “Argh-I’m-I’m cumming, Yoongi”

Moans filled the room as your legs shook with an overwhelming orgasm taking over you and you had to thank no one was working anymore or else the walk out of the studio would be hell, Yoongi’s voice lowered with each praise he threw your way, mixed with groans as he chased after his high, leaning back in the chair he finally stilled, cock twitching inside you as he coated your walls with his hot cum, sweaty forehead finding yours and stealing one last wet kiss from you, he pulled out, reaching behind him to pull some tissues from a box to help you clean yourself up.

You couldn’t bear to look him in the eye, unable to understand what any of what just happened meant as the last notes of your song kept playing over the speakers and he hadn’t said a word; you tried standing up from the now very embarrassing position on Yoongi’s lap only to be pulled back down by him, hand reaching under your shirt to rub your right side “Please be careful getting back home, yeah?”

You quickly nodded, getting to your feet and collecting your discarded clothes, putting them on as Yoongi placed his back in place, hand reaching the door as he was already back to work “Oh and (Y/N)?”

“Yeah?” you turned to face him, a small smile playing on his lips

“I’ll see you around”

As Monday rolled around and the company was called for the monthly meeting, you made your way to your assigned seat, which coincidentally happened to be just in front of none other than Min Yoongi, who was cheerily talking with Jimin, his eyes finding yours as you settled your things down, him shooting a smile your way as your phone dinged with a notification

Unknown Number [09:34]: you looked so pretty last week with those hickeys all over you

Unknown Number [09:34]: how about a round two after this?

#yoongi imagine #yoongi smut #yoongi headcanon #bts smut #bts imagine #yoongi x reader #suga imagine #suga smut #suga headcanon #suga x reader #bts headcanons #bts headcanon #bts scenarios #yoongi scenarios

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baku-no-alt · 5 years

Text

shitty ramen

bakugou x fem!reader

tw: discussion of depression/mental health

Your movements are almost mechanical at this point, an innate sense of self preservation driving you rather than any other sort of thought coming from your brain. You bend down, grab a pot out from the cupboard, run some water in it, and put it on the stove.

Then you stare at it.

You watch the bubbles start to form in the water. The only sounds you’re aware of are the occasional sizzling of the pan and your own sharp inhales as you sniffle every now and then. You do not register your own hand coming up to wipe the last of your tears away from under your eyes.

You’re okay and not okay. The emotional low has already come and gone and the rational part of yourself is all that’s left to pick up the pieces of your meltdown. There’s no overwhelming sadness or grief left for you to feel. Only a dull fog is left. You can feel the stronger, more responsible version of yourself crawling back up from the rubble of your emotional breakdown. It’s okay, she says, you made it through. Let’s take care of ourselves.

The water is boiling rapidly now and you shuffle over the pantry and clumsily grab a packet of ramen and throw it on the counter, more aggressively than you meant to. You close your eyes. Try to recalibrate your body. After spending the entire day in your bed, this feels like learning how to be alive again. How to function like a regular human again.

The movements of your fingers feel foreign as you unwrap the ramen methodically, but you manage to do it and throw it in the pot. You set the timer for the familiar three minutes and poke at the ramen with a spoon.

“You’re not seriously gonna eat that..?”

A flight response jolts through your body as a part of you screams don’t let anyone see you like this but a larger part of you doesn’t care. Your turn your head slowly and stare at Bakugou, expressionless.

“Don’t, Bakugou.”

“Don’t what? At least let me put some vegetables in it or something, that cheap stuff ta-”

“Just letmehavethis,” you hiss, irritated, “just let me make my shitty ramen, please for the love of god. I just need it. Okay? Don’t try to fix it with your fancy cooking skills, just let me make my terrible ramen in peace.”

“Tch, whatever.” he pulls a face and mocks you, then takes a seat at a table in the kitchen to eat his dinner. His presence should give you anxiety but you find comfort in his seemingly uncaring attitude.

You fall into the chair across from him with your bowl of cheap, delicious, unhealthy, wonderful ramen and you both eat in silence for some time.

“What’ve you been crying for?” he finally mumbles, and you swipe one of your hands across your cheeks in alarm. Some mascara comes off with it and you can just imagine the tracks of black tears that must still be stuck on your face. Why didn’t you bother to look in the mirror before you left your room? You’ve been betrayed. So the thought train starts should I get into it? Should I tell him? Do I have the emotional capacity to talk about this right now? Does he have the emotional capacity to hear it? Maybe he’s just asking out of courtesy and doesn’t actually want to hear about my problems. But why shouldn’t I talk to someone about them? How much do I tell him? He’s not my therapist. He doesn’t seem very emotionally available. Will this hurt me? Might it benefit him? What if-

“You don’t have to talk about it.” he interrupts you, and the words feel strange to hear coming out of his mouth. But something about the tone makes you feel safe.

“Depression,” you manage to spit out, “it’s been kicking my ass lately. I’m usually able to manage it pretty well, but today it really took me out. The ramen helps. It’s an old comfort. Crying helps too, to be honest. It helps me work through my emotions.”

Bakugou is silent for a moment, staring into his plate, so you continue, slightly panicky.

“You don’t need to worry about me or anything, I’ve been dealing with it for a long time and it’s just something I have to manage, it’s fine. I’m fine. But thank you for asking.” You begin to think talking to him at all was a mistake, until he reaches over the table and grabs your bowl.

“You’re right. I can see how this helps.” he laughs softly after eating some of your food. Clearing his throat, he adds, “you know, I think you kicked it’s ass. You’re still here, going after your goals, right? Sounds like you’ve been kicking ass for a while.”

You can’t help the smile from spreading across your face. “Yeah,” you reply softly, “thanks.”

You end up spending a little while longer talking to him while you do the dishes together, before heading back to your room and falling asleep peacefully for the first time in several nights.

A few days later you opened your door to a package; it was what could only be described as an industrial sized bulk package of ramen, in all sorts of flavors. Bakugou caught your eye as you left the dorm that morning and you gave him a warm smile. He looked away, but you could still see the smirk on his face.

From there it was small ways of checking up on each other. Bakugou would raise his eyebrows at you on days where you were particularly quiet and you would shrug. Sometimes you’d catch up to him on his walk back to the dorm from school if he had a bad day. He’d pull his headphones out of his ears, even if he wasn’t up to having a conversation. You would just walk in silence together.

And sometimes he’d just know, and there would be a knock at your door, and he’d be standing there with a tray.

“Here’s some shitty ramen. Just the way you like it.”

#bakugou x reader #bnha #bakugo x reader

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foxfire-midnight-wings-writing · 4 years

Text

The Sky Burns with Fire

Second part of the Spider Virgil series!

For those of you who enjoyed these so far, this is going to be part of a series! You can find the series under the fanfic masterlist, if you’re interesting in looking at that one too. If you’d like to talk more about this AU, you can send me an ask at @foxfire-and-midnight-wings or on here.

[first] [next]

[Fanfic Masterlist]

Warnings: Hinted panic attack, mention of spider traits, anxious/depressive/intrusive thoughts, mental breakdowns, self-blame/self-hate, unhealthy coping mechanisms, allusion to self-harm, overworking/overexertion and mention of the collapse that happens afterward,

[Argument Aftermath]

- - - -- - - -- - - -- - - -

Virgil goes into his room to see Janus and Remus already there, the former who looks pretty guilty

Virgil is still shaking, and when Janus sees the state he’s in, his guilt increases by tenfold

Both Janus and Remus back off to give him space, and Janus ask Virgil if he wants them to leave

“Please, don’t.” “... Alright, but if you change your mind, please let us know.”

Virgil goes into his side bathroom and takes off his makeup, and then changes into his hoodie that Remus made specifically to let his spider legs through too

He goes out and climbs into his hanging hammock, and just curls up underneath the covers for a while

He has to forcefully remind himself to do the 4-8-7 exercise, which he is very thankful about because it helps him try to get his mind off of what happened

His anxiety keeps throwing thoughts through his head that he knows aren’t true, but it still made it hard for him to focus at times

Janus makes them all some tea, and starts to try and make Virgil a snack to eat

Remus remembers about how Virgil would sometimes have worse panic attacks if he was around others in a quiet room, so he starts to hum really loud

Janus eventually joins him, and after a couple minutes they’re both quietly singing an abundance of different musical songs

The singing mixed with the breathing exercise helps Virgil have something else to distract him from his thoughts. He was tempted to blast music through his headphones to try and drown out the anxious thoughts, but once Remus started humming he decided against it

After around 30 minutes, Virgil is calm enough to come back down, and he takes the tea gratefully

It’s silent for maybe a minute, before Janus apologizes

He goes on to say that he knows they all said Virgil’s name was something that could be talked about and revealed, but that the situation was not the best place to say it.

“I know that this entire situation was agreed upon so we could help the others not know about our friendship, and so they wouldn’t question you about us. By making it an intentional topic of ‘tension’, it would deter them from asking about us, and in turn would prevent them from asking about your spider traits. But if you want us to stop or to bring back the intensity, please let us know. I know that the acting can get intense, and that it may feel too real at times, and I want you to know that it’s okay if we need to change our plans.”

He goes on to say that he knows Virgil may need time away from them after some of their “arguments” to help calm down, and that it’s perfectly okay with both him and Remus.

Virgil is just sitting here drinking his tea after the first 5 minutes of this internally going “alright, okay, I know.”

After Janus is done with his long talk, Virgil just looks him in the eyes and goes “bitch”

At first, Janus isn’t sure how to react. Because he just spent over five minutes telling Virgil that if he needed the plan to change, it was perfectly fine with them. And the first thing Virgil says is “bitch.”

There’s like. A moment of silence before Janus just goes “Does that mean okay?? What????”

Virgil starts laughing at this, before nodding

The whole reason Virgil is doing this, which Janus and Remus catch onto, is because he’s scared to confront the problem in a serious talk due to his anxiety

It isn’t even the fact that he doesn’t want to talk about it, no, he really wants to!

But his anxiety just keeps screaming “serious talk = bad”

He doesn’t even know why, but that’s why he tries joking. Almost as a way to lift the atmosphere a little and to help him calm down a little bit

They spend a couple more minutes joking around a little before Remus goes “Seriously though, Virge, if you need us to stop we can.”

After that, they actually start to talk about it

Much to Virgil’s reluctance, because his anxiety is constantly screaming at him. Fears about them wanting to leave him, hating him, and them telling him they don’t want to be friends anymore swirl around in his head

(What if they want to use this as a cover-up to stop talking to me? What if they’re using it as a way to try and tell me they hate me? To let me down gently? What if, what if, what if-)

They agree that they’ll continue the plan (much to Janus’ reluctance because he still feels bad), and they will meet up after every argument to talk about what was said and how to move forward.

Janus keeps reiterating to them both that if they need a break after an argument that it’s fine and they just need to say so.

Janus makes them some halloween themes cookies with Virgil’s help, and Remus decorates (after he promises to only use icing)

Virgil admits while eating the cookies that the name reveal did make him a little anxious, but that he knew it was one of the topic that would come up eventually (even if it wasn’t from Remus or Janus)

He says that he just needed the time in his hammock to recharge mentally and to calm down a little

He doesn’t blame Janus, and just says that it “gives him more of a reason to be on bad terms with the ‘dark sides’”

Basically, he says “it’s cool, it just sped up the other sides being uncomfortable talking about you two around me”

Eventually, they eat an actual meal before going to hang out in Janus’s room underneath his heat lamp

They all accidentally fall asleep there, but none of them mind (it’s not the first time they did this)

(But they always make sure to not let ⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛ know what’s going on. No one bothers to try telling him what happened.)

[How is Patton after all of this?]

well, Patton is very clearly wrecked.

He doesn’t take well the fact that Virgil was hiding something like that from them. Why? Because he worries that Virgil didn’t feel safe enough around them to say his real name and that they just pressured him into saying it

He feels bad because this was revealed and knows that Virgil is probably taking the reveal as bad as him

Which makes him feel guilty because he feels like he shouldn’t be feeling this bad because it wasn’t him who had a secret revealed after a huge argument

Needless to say, he cries more than a few tears

He slowly starts to get some intrusive depressive thoughts

Mainly, self-hatred and blame

He starts to blame himself for what happened, for not being able to stop it. He basically ends up arguing with himself over the entire situation

‘You should’ve done more, now look what happened. Virgil and Janus are both hurt, Virgil had a secret revealed and is probably having a panic attack over it, and you’re not even there to comfort him. What kind of father are you if you’re not even able to be there for your family?’

‘No, there wasn’t anything I could do to stop it. They were already too far gone when I tried to intervene.’

‘Oh? Then why didn’t you intervene earlier?’

‘...’

‘Why didn’t you stop them sooner? Why didn’t you?’

‘I-... I don’t know...’

‘That’s a lie. You know exactly why. You just won’t admit it.’

‘Shut up. You’re not real, and you’re wrong. That wasn’t why’

‘Ah, but you know why, you just admit it. You just don’t want to face it.’

‘You were scared. But of who?’

‘See, that’s the thing! I don’t have a reason to have been scared.’

‘But you still didn’t do anything. You could’ve, but you didn’t. You were scared. You were a coward,’

‘Shut up! Just shut up!’

Patton, unlike Virgil or Remus, doesn’t have any way he’s found to fully drown the voice in his head out. He tries music, but it rarely works.

It’s a good thing that they’re not real, otherwise he definitely would’ve damaged his hearing by how loud he would play it.

There’s one other way that he’s tried to get it to stop but... he really doesn’t want to resort to that. He knows it’s unhealthy, and he really hates doing it

But sometimes it feels like it’s the only escape

So this time, when he spends 10 minutes blasting his music through his earbuds at maximum volume and the thoughts are still racing through his head, he makes up his mind

He takes off his earbuds and turns his phone off before locking his door. After all, he doesn’t want anyone to find out what he’s about to do

[How is Roman?]

He’s not taking it well. Like, at all. And that’s putting it lightly

He feels extremely mad at himself, but he feels overwhelming anger at Janus

‘How could he just say that?! Has he no pride or respect?’

Hidden underneath all the layers of anger, is guilt, shame, and fear

He blames himself for Virgil hiding his name, and he fears that his nicknames and teasing was actually taken seriously

He knows it probably wasn’t, considering Virgil often engaged in the banter and they rarely got into an actual argument. Most of the time they were small, teasing arguments.

He fears that what he perceived as fun banter was actually being taken seriously and to heart. And that scares him most of all

Following the guilt of the possible miscommunication is shame

‘I’m the hero, I should’ve realized it was making him uncomfortable! And I should’ve seen if he was truly hurt by it,’ he thinks, ‘But I’m not, am I? There’s bound to have been signs that he was taking it seriously, but if I don’t really know him as well as I thought, how could I expect those little cues that I’m familiar with to have been true?’

‘Just how much was shown, but brushed off? Did I really fail to notice all of this for so long?’

After this, the anger is quickly drown out by the overwhelming guilt and shame.

It only takes a few more minutes for the tears to start to fall

Distantly, he wonders what else Virgil felt he had to hide from them just to avoid being ridiculed or hurt

The crying slowly morphs into a full-blown mental breakdown.

It lasts maybe 15, maybe 30 minutes. He’s not fully aware of how much time passes, but he knows that afterwards he is exhausted.

He takes a good 4 to 5 hour nap after he finishes, the mental and physical drain having finally taken its toll and making him basically pass out

When he wakes up, he still feels just as drained as before, but now he has a headache to accompany it

He feels super shitty, but knows that Virgil probably was also having a rough time with his anxiety and was probably worried that they would think of him differently, so he makes up his mind on what to do

After all, he couldn’t tell how much time had really passed (and was frankly too tired to bother checking), so he rules out trying to go to the Imagination

Normally, when he needed something to distract himself with, or he needed to let out some pent-up anger, he would go into the Imagination. He didn’t always go there, but when the thoughts were all-consuming and he needed a physical outlet, the Imagination was the best coping mechanism he could find

He knew it was much better than any other possibly more harmful alternatives (but he sometimes still succumbed to them. Not often, but sometimes he couldn’t help it.)

While his weren’t obvious in how they were harmful, if you saw how he looked afterwards you could tell it was hurting him.

What did he do?

He overworked himself.

Painting until his fingers hurt too much to move, making music on different instruments until his mouth hurt and his fingers refused to move in time, creating drawings until his tools broke or his hand hurt too much to continue, dancing until he collapsed, the list goes on.

Basically, he worked himself until he either was in too much pain to continue or until he collapsed

In addition to all this, he didn’t want his creations to see him like this, or worse, be influenced by his state. That would only lead to disaster, and he knew that from experience.

What he decides to do isn’t much better than what he normally would’ve, but he’s going to make a large painting with Virgil’s full name displayed and a bunch of different designs around it

Storm clouds, purple and black striped hearts, gothic architecture, spider webs, etc.

He promises himself not to work himself to the point he normally would’ve, just to make sure no one else noticed. He wanted to give Virgil something to help him know that he’s loved and appreciated

If Virgil saw him absolutely wrecked because of it? He knew that Virgil would just blame himself for it

So he gets to work on the painting, which is huge.

Like, it’s probably ~8 by ~6 feet. Like I said, it’s huge

And he basically holes himself up there for multiple hours. He doesn’t bother checking the time, he just wants this done and to be the best it can be

Which, honestly, isn’t good. He almost works himself down like he normally would, but then he stops to think about what to do as a “break”

He doesn’t want to stop being productive because he hates the feeling of not doing anything, or having anything to focus on, and he knows that if he is left alone with his thoughts he will probably spiral again

So he goes to Logan to ask if there’s anyone famous in history with the name Virgilius, hopefully someone with written works so he can put different quotes there

He’s rewarded with Logan’s research (but he’s too caught up in his own work to notice how frazzled Logan looks) and goes to add on little quotes from the poets Publius Vergilius Maro and Virgil Carianopol, along with the writer Virgil the Grammarian

It takes him another couple of hours to figure out which quotes he wants to find, because he wanted some that he felt Virgil would like, which was fairly hard at times.

It helped give his hands a little bit of a break, but honestly? Not much. Instead of drawing and painting, they were typing. He considers it a break, though, so that’s what matters to him.

He finished the painting, at last, and finally looks at the time

Turns out he spent almost a full 24 hours just on the painting and research. He knows that it’s probably not good that he completed such a large project in such a short amount of time, but he’s just glad it’s done

[What about Logan? How is he coping with all of this?]

Logan is the definition of unhealthy coping mechanisms

He writes down Virgil’s full name and starts to research anything and everything relating to the name

Astronomy, philosophy, psychology, everything.

he writes down every single person and makes sure to take time after he writes down all their names to actually look into them as people, and not just their works.

This is how he copes a lot of the time, actually

He tries to drown out the thoughts in his head threatening to make him finally break distract himself by finding out different or unusual facts about anything he can

This leads to him often researching and theorizing about the most obscure things. For example, once he was going down the rabbit hole fo snake research and started wondering just how much of the stuff he had found out applied to Janus. Could he unhinge his whole jaw, or at leas the snake part? Could his snake mouth even open? Did he have fangs? Venom?

(it wasn’t because Janus just revealed his name after he was forcefully silenced in an episode, and he couldn’t face the fact that it had actually happened just yet, it wasn’t.)

So, that’s how he was coping. The problem with his method is that he tended to get... too into what he was researching

This means that he often neglected anything else that wasn’t his work. If he wasn’t researching, he was planning and graphing, and if he wasn’t doing any of that? You could probably find him doing his own experiments in his room

(Some of which could get dangerous and explode, but that was the point, wasn’t it?)

The other sides call this his “Scientist Mode”, because they’ve caught him in the middle or at the end of the time he did this enough times that they just thought it was part of him being ‘logic’

They failed to look anywhere past that, but if they looked just a little closer, they would’ve seen what it had done to him.

To be fair, he was really good at covering it up. After all, when you’re an actor you have to use logic to figure out the best way to either hide something, or to highlight it

Many people, and even the other sides themselves, seemed to forget how much logic you have to use when acting and preforming

Sure, you do have to use creativity and you are essentially lying to the audience, but you also have to know how humans work to get the correct points across.

So anyways, Logan is also a really good actor, but instead of pretending to be happy like Patton or self-assured like Roman, he focuses on hiding all his emotions from the others

Which also means hiding anything he knows may cause them to be concerned for him

Hiding dark circles, straightening and ironing his clothes when he actually slept in them, standing straight instead of slouched down, etc.

He knows exactly how to hide all the details that the others would look for when trying to make sure he’s okay, and that’s what can get so dangerous

Because no one sees the exhaustion pulling at his bones, the way his mind is hazy and barely there, or the way that he takes maybe a second to long to respond

But if they looked close enough, they could see the glazed and distant look in his eyes. The way his movements were a little too stiff or a little too slow. Some of the smallest, but still noticeable details

Only two sides have confronted him about it, the third watching with silent concern. But he convinced them not to say anything. So they offer him a place to rest and recover, but they all three know that if they say something to the other sides, no one will listen

Maybe that’s what makes them reach out to him. Maybe it was something else

But those three sides are not there to see what he’s doing. They’re not there to see the mess he’s slowly becoming and the way he is throwing himself into his work this time

Which also means that there’s no one there to stop him and make him take a break

So, internally grateful that they’re not here to pull him away from his work, he dives headfirst into the research

Hours pass, and he hasn’t slowed down in the slightest. His hand starts to cramp, but he ignores it. They’re not real, so it shouldn’t hurt him in the long run.

He knows it’s not healthy, but he can’t bring himself to stop

He doesn’t get anything to eat or drink, opting to stay in his room. ‘It’s to maximize productivity’ he tells himself

Sometimes he wonders if this is the reason why Thomas has such a hard time getting and staying on a schedule

He does this more than he’d ever willingly admit, and he knows that it’s not good. So he limits himself to 5 hours at the max on days or nights when they have something important coming up.

After countless hours of research, when his hands are screaming in pain and barely able to move anymore, Roman comes to his door asking for his help

“I need anything you have on famous writers or poets with the name Virgilius. Don’t ask why yet, just please give me anything you’ve got.”

“How do you know I’ve got anything?”

“Logan, you’re surrounded by papers. Plus, this is an important reveal, I wouldn’t be surprised if you heard his name and geeked out because it matched the name of someone you know existed.”

“Okay, and?”

“And, while I probably would do that too, I need the name and information you can give me. It’s for a project.”

“... Fine”

Logan makes copies of his notes and hands Roman the papers he thinks would be helpful for whatever it is he’s doing, but makes sure to try and cover up the exhaustion and pain in his body and voice.

Luckily for him, Roman grabbed the papers and ran back to his room immediately afterwards, not even sparing him a second glace

He secretly wishes that he had. Wishes he noticed the pain he was in and forced him to take a break, while helping keep him distracted still.

But he knows that won’t happen, so he turns back to his computer and gets back to work

No one sees him leave his room for the next 36 hours

Only three people grow concerned, but they know they can’t talk to him about it because they worry it would make his situation worse. They know he was using it to get his mind off what recently happened, so they knew that seeing any of them would only remind him of what he was trying to ignore

All of them, even Logan himself, know that he’ll have to face it eventually. But something about having a lot of knowledge and facts about a situation is comforting to him. So, he continues to work until he passes out, at which point he knew he couldn’t put off facing what had happened

[What about the last side, ⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛?]

He doesn’t care much for what’s happening, honestly

Janus, Remus, and Virgil always ignore him and try to keep him away from everyone as much as possible

He doesn’t really know exactly what’s going on, but he has a vague idea due to over hearing Remus talking once

He also had heard Janus shush him as soon as he started speaking, not wanting ⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛ to know what was happening

The other ‘light sides’ know who he is, but make sure to avoid him at all costs... well, they knew him at one point

He hasn’t seen some of them in so long, he wouldn’t be surprised if one or more of them forgot he existed

Correction: he wouldn’t be surprised if they forgot who he is. He knows that they remember what he is

All in all, ⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛’s not really involved much in this. He doesn’t really care about it either way

[Why was Virgil's name such a big deal?]

As we've seen, names are usually something that aren't given away immediately

For Virgil, when he was giving them his name, it was a sign of trust

Now, everyone's reactions may seen to have been... Over the top, right? A little dramatic, maybe, or too much?

The reason all of this happened though, wasn't just because of his name

It was because this was just one small part, the tipping point, of a longer series of events

By the time that Virgil and Janus finally got into an argument, tensions had already been running high between them

Not only had the events of Selfishness v Selflessness been a trainwreck on their own

Add in the fact that tensions continued to rise between the sides afterward? It’s a recipe for disaster to occur eventually

The Roman, Logan, and Patton had been forced to watch as things slowly started to spiral out of control

For Patton, this means he kept having doubts and insecurities that slowly piled up

He always feels like he needs to be the "more responsible side" because he knows Thomas listens to him the most, and that was something that affected him a lot during the courtroom scenes

He tries to be the best he can, even if that means trying to repress the negative feelings and thoughts he has, but he still doesn’t feel like it’s enough

And while they did have the talk earlier in the series about Patton's repression, that doesn't mean he immediately stopped

After repressing things for so long, you get into the habit of hiding it. You make it your default, and that's an incredibly hard habit to break

The problem is, no one else has realized that, while Patton said he would try, he is still repressing things. Which leads to his doubts, insecurities, and stress multiplying exponentially

For Roman, he had insecurities about his creations and placement among the other sides

Knowing that Virgil hid something considered so important from all of them?

Not only does it hurt, it feels like a stab in the chest of 'you're the reason he doesn't trust everyone'

No one else has noticed his self-destructive tendencies because he always makes sure to hide everything behind the egotistical persona he uses

Both Patton and Roman struggle with feeling like they're not good enough

They feel like they have to be perfect in everything they do, hence Patton's repression and Roman trying to always "be the hero", even when it hurts them more in the end

For Logan, he already has struggled with his emotions for a while. Having this event just makes some of his coping a little more obvious in its detriment

He is another example of the sides not realizing another one of them is hurting, mainly because they've been doing it for so long that they thought that was normal for them

Hell, Logan knows it's bad for his health, but because he's always preaching about good routines, everyone assumes he knows what he's doing

(Note: he doesn't. He hides his emotions so much from the others that when he gets like this, it's everything coming out all at once. There's just too much that he repressed that when it finally breaks through he can't do anything to stop it)

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atsumusc0ck · 4 years

Text

Your Sun and Moon

Kuroo x female!Reader

Just angst that’s it

1.3k words

Time skip roughly senior year college.

Dunno, I haven’t written fanfic in like 6 years so it do be rough.

Lately life feels like a tornado. No, a hurricane? A tsunami? An avalanche?

Whatever it is it’s all too much. All you want is for your boyfriend to support you. To message you little “i love you’s” a work, memes that make him think of you. Anything. You live together for fucks sake but it feels like radio silence at all times.

Work being hellish doesn’t help.

Especially today. Rude customers at your coffee shop, spilling coffee all over yourself, someone even stole your tips.

Your gut says “message kuroo, talk to him, he’ll make you feel better” but that little voice in the back tells you he won’t respond. After an hour of debating you text him

“Hey booberry, today has sucked at work. Can you pick me up when I get off or send me some memes? I need a boost 🥺”

No response

30 minutes later

92.5

Still no response

“Tetsu babe?”

You crave for him to see it. To respond. For anything. Your shift is ticking away and not a word. Your messages are all one sided, have been for weeks now. Does he not love you anymore? Does he not care? The overwhelming emotions from a rough day at work and relationship insecurities are bubbling at your throat.

Slipping away to the restroom so your coworkers don’t see you like this, you sit. And sit. And sit. Trying to get it together. After 15 minutes of trying you finally get yourself to simmer down. You get yourself ready for the last leg of your shift. Maybe you can pick him up flowers for when you get off? Red carnations at the flower store next door?

You try to keep your mind busy with flowers and orders. It works, until you're finally clocking out.

You call your wonderful boyfriend who is your sun and your moon and your earth and your life. No answer. Again. Again. Again. No answers.

Skipping the flowers you take the bus home, headphones in but unable to pick a song to listen to.

Finally you get home.

You hover at your doorstep, as if you aren’t welcomed in your own home without permission.

Opening the door and peeking your head in

“Tetsu baby?” You call out “I'm home!”

Stepping into your shared home used to bring relief. An instant comfort. Today, it feels like you are walking into a place you’ve never been before. No sign of Kuroo in the living room, or kitchen. You hear that hyena cackle from the bedroom. Instantly making your heart soar! That sound is true comfort. Whenever you hear that laugh it takes you back to when you first fell in love with him.

It was instant. A stupid chemistry joke he made in class, laughing at himself like a fool. In that brief moment it was over for you, you were in love. And have been ever since.

Opening the door to see what was making him laugh so hard your heart plummeted through the floor. You felt like your apartment was crumbling around you and you’d fall into your downstairs neighbors home.

The love of your life was in facetime with another girl. Laughing with her. Smiling at her like she put the stars up in the sky. He used to look at you like that.

He looks at you and looks at his phone “hey cutie I gotta go she just got home”

You can’t move from the doorway. You can’t muster up the courage for words at all.

“Hey y/n” no nicknames anymore. his face is now lackluster. The smile gone, the doe eyes too. He looks at you like a stranger. Maybe worse than that? Like someone he hates. He looks at you like he can’t wait to look away.

“Tet-“you start swallowing hard “Kuroo who was that?”

“No one”

Lies

Some nobody can’t make him smile like that, laugh that hard, beam so bright. You used to be the only one who could.

Before you know it the bubbling in your throat is back and you can’t hold it in anymore

Sobs break through your lips. Fat ugly tears drip down your face. You can’t wipe your eyes fast enough for the current running down your cheeks like a raging river.

Kuroo doesn’t move. Not to comfort you. Not to say anything. Instead, he turns his head away. Taps his fingers against his legs.

You speak between sobs “y-you don’t love me anymore do you?”

No reaction. No response. Nothing.

How can the man you’ve loved your whole life say nothing? He doesn’t even love you enough to look at you.

Your sobs halt at his lack of response. You rub your eyes and stare at him. “Who is she?” You ask again unsure if you really want to know.

Wincing a little, before a heavy sigh he looks at you. Looks into your eyes and you stare back and the love that used to make his eyes sparkle like twilight are flat and dull. “Y/N I can’t do this anymore. Us. I can’t. I don’t…” he pauses feigning as if he is at a loss for words but you know this man better than yourself. You know he knows exactly what he wants to say. “Y/N this just isn’t working out anymore. When I look at you I no longer feel sparks. When you smile I’m no longer overcome with joy. When you cry…” another bullshit pause “i don’t care anymore…”

Bullshit. bullshit. Bullshit. 5 years together for this? 5 years for him to fall out of love and not even try to fix it? Bullshit. You have supported him since highschool. Gone to every single volleyball match. Stayed up all night before every exam together. You moved in together for fucks sake. You just renewed the lease two months ago!

Fuming, a fire heats up in your throat. Burning you alive. Before you can even lash out he finally reacts. He stands before you.

Staring up to meet his eyes as he walks towards you.

“It’s over Y/N. I’ll continue to pay rent until you find a roommate. I’m going to stay with Kenma for now, he already knows”

He pushes past you and walks away without a glance heading toward the door. You call out to him.

“He knows you don’t love me or he knows you have been seeing someone else?” You say with a fierce intensity

“Y/N it’s not like-“ you cut him off

“Not like what? Not like you were my whole world? Not like I have spent every waking moment thinking about you for the past 5 fucking years? Not like we live together?” You wanted to go on but the tears were filling your eyes again blurring your vision.

“I..i gotta go we’ll talk this out another time” he says no longer looking at you.

He grabs his keys and walks out.

The door closes behind him.

Silence fills the air.

You stumble to your hallway wall and slide to the ground and come undone. You sob until your face burns, until your throat becomes like sandpaper. You cry like a child. You just...cry.

5 years of love gone.

As the day becomes night, it feels as if there are no more stars in the night to wish upon. No moonlight to guide you. Just darkness. A life with our Kuroo seems to be total and utter darkness. A full on solar eclipse.

+-+-+

A/N dunno what this is but yeah felt the need to write it. Ngl I hardly proofread this at all and I'm tired af so… sorry for the angst.

#kuroo #kuroo angst #angst #hq angst #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo x reader #sorry i havent written in so long lmao

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bigcat-hanson · 4 years

Text

Staring At the Stars [Part One] | Arin Hanson X Reader

Arin’s voice is absolutely breathtaking. What will he think when he hears yours? Word count: 1,217

“Hello?”

Your voice was groggy as you answered the phone, your eyes still closed to avoid letting in the sunlight that was spilling into your room. Who the hell calls this early on a weekend?

“Did you just wake up? You do remember that the recording session is now, right?” The voice on the other end had a hint of annoyance, and something that seemed like concern. In your tired state, it took you a few seconds to register who had called.

Ross. Crap.

“Shit, are you serious? I’m on my way. I must’ve forgotten to set my alarm. I’ll be there in 15. Promise,” you apologized frantically, throwing your comforter practically across the room as you tried to locate clothes to quickly put on. Jeans, shirt, socks. The phone was tossed onto the bed and hung up before your best friend ever had a chance to respond. Cursing yourself for being late, you grabbed your car keys, threw on a pair of boots that were sitting by your front door, and ran to your car.

Dan, Arin, and Brian had invited a few people from the Grumps office to the recording of the final Starbomb album, Tryforce. You have no idea how you made the final cut, but you were invited nonetheless. You let your mind wander a bit as you made your way through the (thankfully) light morning traffic.

Even though you’d only ever once admitted it, you had always had a soft spot for Arin. He had such a warm energy about him, always so inviting and sweet. At some point during the two years that you had been working with him, the two of you had made a habit of bringing in each others’ coffee orders in the mornings, sometimes with arguably shitty puns written on the side of the cups. The sharpie that sat in your center console served that exact purpose.

As you pulled up to the recording studio, you could see that there was only one spot left, and it was as far from the entrance as you could possibly get. Fun. Your car creaked to a stop in the parking space, and you bolted into the studio as fast as you could.

“You’re alive!” Ross joked, turning in his seat to look at you. He laughed a bit to himself as you rolled your eyes and sat in the chair next to him. “Arin told me to give this to you.” You couldn’t help but chuckle as you read the pun that was written in purple marker on your coffee cup.

What sound does a sleeping T-rex make? A dino-snore!

As you took a sip of the now room temperature coffee, you heard the happily familiar voice of Dan doing a mic check before confirming that he was ready to start. Silence engulfed the studio for a moment, and then it began.

Welcome to the Mario Par-tay!

The vibe of the song took you by surprise. The auto-tune hit you in a way that got you instantly excited, and it wasn’t even five seconds into the song. Almost subconsciously, your head started bobbing to the rhythm of the music. Once Arin started on his part, you were completely entranced. Your eyes locked onto him, your body still moving a bit to the music.

1, 2, 3, let’s-a go

It’s your boy M-A-R to the I, to the O

Welcome ya to my big ass fuckin house up in the hills

You can get through the gate if you got the dolla bills

His focus was completely centered on the paper in front of him, hands moving with every word that came out of his mouth. The few strands of hair that were just too short for him to pull back swayed a bit with his movements, still perfectly framing his face, bits of blonde mixed in with the brown locks. It was always amazing to watch him perform. It never got old, seeing him in this zone that he seemed to get to so easily. The sheer focus in his eyes was enchanting.

“You’re staring again,” the Australian next to you teased, shaking your chair a bit in an attempt to snap you out of your trance. You sat up straight and cleared your throat, slightly glaring at Ross. The smirk on his face gave you the all but overwhelming urge to smack him out of his seat.

“Shut up before I slap you into the third week of next July,” you threatened. You took another drink of your coffee, trying as hard as you could not to fall back into Arin’s trance.

“Why don’t you just tell him? You two have great chemistry already. Even if he did say no, it’s not like he’s gonna hate you or something. It’ll just be the same as it is now for you guys, and I know you can’t complain about that.”

Sometimes you hate the fact that you ever told Ross about your feelings about Arin, because most of the time, he was right. Bastard.

You looked back at the man that you’ve fallen for, and for a brief moment, his eyes met yours. You felt your mouth form into a smile, his mimicking the action before his focus returned to the lyrics. Damn it, he’s attractive. Maybe he would want to… no. He hasn’t given you any reason that he’d want to date you. It was best not to make assumptions about stuff like that.

“I am okay with where we’re at right now. I don’t want to take any chances that might screw this up. I’m good.”

As the song wrapped up, you could see the focus in Arin’s eyes turn to what looked like relief. Dan called for a quick break, allowing Arin to take off his headphones and come into the room that you and Ross were occupying.

“Hey, I didn’t think you were gonna make it,” he admitted, taking a seat in one of the empty chairs near you.

“Yea, I’m really sorry. I forgot to set my alarm, and I didn’t have time to grab your coffee, so I’m sorry about that too. I’ll make it up to you, though. Promise.” The words spilled out of your mouth anxiously, but he didn’t seem upset by any of it.

“Well we’re actually all probably going out for dinner after we wrap up here, so how about you make it up tonight?” he suggested.

“Uh yea, I can absolutely do that, sure,” you smiled, subconsciously tapping your fingers on the arm of the chair. “In the meantime, do you want me to get you a water or something?”

“I’m okay, thanks though. Oh hey, there are some sandwiches over there, I don’t know if you noticed, and we have a shit ton extra because apparently Jory doesn’t know how much food it takes to feed anything less than three villages.” You laughed at his comment, promising you’d take him up on the offer as you hadn’t eaten breakfast yet. It was then that Brian called Arin back in. “I don’t really know how long this’ll all be, but I know it’s likely to be at least a few hours. I’ll try to make it as entertaining as I can.” He winked, and with that, disappeared back into the other room.

#arin hanson #game grumps #arin hanson x reader #it's been over 6 months since I've written anything so sorry that this is prob yikes #staring at the stars

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