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gaysimpsstuff · 3 years

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Hawks With a Reader Who Tics

Genre: angst, fluffy fluff,

Reader Pronouns: none

Other: This is based off of my tics, which usually only occur when I’m super stressed, and they’re all pretty simple. Just slapping my thigh, making a clicking noise, and general neck wanting to not be on my shoulders. If you want something more generalized, or something more along the lines of Tourrete’s Syndrome I am more than happy to oblige. Also this is totally self-indulgent so if no one else relates to this that’s fine.

Warnings: mentions of past teasing, reader cries, tics, shitty parents, cursing burnt toast and burnt bacon (the food not Dabi)

Taglist: @smolchildfangirl @yuu-anon @poke-txts @combat-wombatus -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You had been going out with the Number Two hero Hawks for about two months now, and things were going great! No weird clicking noises or head-jerking or arms wanting to smack your thigh or random shouts of the word ‘yummy.’ You were beginning to think that maybe all your weird (an)tics had disapeared.

You’d never been more wrong.

Okay maybe you’ve been more wrong at times but still you were wrong.

All it took was one shitty day. Co-workers being assholes, Karens being Karens, but worst of all was a phone call full of bullshit from your parents. That was all it took for your body to start moving on its own. And not in the good way, the way that causes you to make weird clicking noises, jerk your head around like an owl, smack your thigh and repeat the word ‘yummy.’

Okay, you could deal with the clicking noise and the random yummy outbursts but all the more physical things? You really didn’t have the patience to deal with it. Which resulted in you leaving work early, complaining about being sick while masking as much as you possibly could to your boss.

And finally, you were home. And free to just let your tics do whatever the fuck they wanted until they wore themselves out. You hoped this wouldn’t be the type to last over a day, because that happened sometimes, and it was so annoying.

But you forgot something, something very important. You’d planned with your boyfriend to meet up and watch movies at your place. You were just lounging around half naked when you got the text that he was on his way.

“Fuck shit!” you rushed to get decent, knowing that all you could really do was put on a shirt, pants, and half-hazardly brush your hair before you heard the doorbell ring. “Alright Y/n you can do this.” you muttered. “It’s Hawks, he’s chill, you can stay calm and click still around him. Th- this’ll be easy! Suuper click click easy! And If you do tic, no problem he won’t hate you or make fun of you or break up with you! Just gotta go out there and face him, easy peasy... orIcouldrunawayandfakemydeathandlivemycottagecoredreamwithablindcatohhhyeahthatsoundssomucheasier*.” you shook your head (bad idea, you ended up hitting your chest really hard) and forced yourself out of the bathroom and to the front door, quickly ushering your boyfriend in.

“Baby bird! I haven’t seen you in person in forever!” he exclaimed. You sighed, looking up at him and immediately relaxing. Your boyfriend was so pretty, so kind, so perfect. Nothing could get in the way of a nice relaxing night.

“You saw me three days ago.” you deadpanned, holding back a click.

“It felt like forever!” he complained, walking in and shrugging his coat off. He was still in his hero costume, so he must’ve only just gotten off work. He folded his coat and put it on the little table next to the door, alongside his goggles and headphones.

“You aren’t injured?” you asked, checking his arms and face for scratches, then glancing at his wings to check their size. How many feathers had he used today?

“Baby don’t worry, I’m okay. Today was pretty chill. I only needed to use my wings for like- three things today. What about you? How was work?” you stiffened, praying you wouldn’t betray yourself.

“Eh it was okay.” you shrugged nonchalontly or however the fuck you spell it. Hawks raised an eyebrow at you.

“You know I can tell when you’re lying.” you gave him a forced smile, ignoring how your heart sped up.

“W-what are you talking about?” Stuttering. Of course you were stuttering. It wouldn’t take much longer before you simply couldn’t mask anymore.

“Dove, tell me what happened, I’m your boyfriend I want to help you-” he stopped talking when he saw how your hand was bouncing against your thigh, striking it hard.

“Fine- I’m I’m I’m F-fine fine!” you exclaimed, head jerking backwards. Hawks blinked in confusion.

“What was that?” his voice rose in concern. Tears were brimming in your eyes as you flinched away from his touch. You didn’t say anything, only grabbing the back of your neck to forcibly hold your head down. Even when you ticked you could just hold yourself back.

“Baby, talk to me, you’re worrying me.” Hawks took another step forward, and you just stepped backwards again, whimpering.

“N-no! No no!” you cried. Hawks stared at you with wide eyes, fearful. Suddenly he relaxed.

“Hey, it’s gonna be okay.” his tone was different this time, soothing, sweet, it was exactly the kind that would make you relax. “I’m here, I’m gonna help you. Can you move your hands for me, Babe?”

Slowly, your moved your hands away from your neck, immediately your head tried to dislocate itself, and a sharp stab of pain shot up your spine.

“OW!” Hawks opened his arms, still giving you a kind look.

“I know, I know it hurts.” he whispered. “Just come here, let me hold you.”

Hold you? When you were spazzing out like this? What if you hit him? What if you hurt him badly? What if he never wanted to see you again?” What if-

You ran into his arms, sobbing. You felt something soft tickle the back of your neck. A feather. He rubbed your back soothingly. Rocking the two of you back and forth as you cried against his chest.

“S-sorry! Sorrysorrysorry!” you yelped when your arm smacked his side.

“Shhhh shhh baby it’s okay.” He took your hand, gently moving it towards his face. Bad idea. You jerked your hand out of his grip, sniffling.

“Do-don’t do th-that- don’t do that. I’ll hu-hurt you. S-sorry.” he nodded.

“I understand.” he murmured, taking the two of you to the couch. He kept you close to him, feathers covering your body to try and help you relax. It was nice. He was warm and his voice was soft. You felt so... heavy. You closed your eyes, cuddling against him, close as you could possibly get before you finally fell asleep.

You slowly opened your eyes, the smell of bacon filling the air. You blinked a couple time, realizing you were in your bed. You sat up, groaning. Your neck felt so sore.

Click click

Ah, right. The tics were back. You thought back to yesterday, eyes widening as you remembered what happened. Hawks. He had come over hoping for a movie and cuddles, hoping for a break from taking care of people, and you’d ruined that with your stupid tic attack. How long had he stayed with you? Did he stay awake to make sure you didn’t tic in your sleep?

You ran out of your room, grateful you were still in your cozy movie party clothes. In the kitchen, Hawks had two plates on the counter, both with scrambled eggs and two slices of toast. Bacon was sizzling in the pan.

“Good morning, Dove! How are you feeling?” he asked, a soft yet tired smile on his face.

“Hawks! Hawks oh babe I am so so sorry about last night!” you exclaimed, your fingers twisted and curled around each other as you hoped to find comfort in the movement.

“Don’t be, it’s okay. I made breakfast, look! I may have burnt the toast but you’ll be fine with that, right? Baby?” he cocked his head to the side, noticing your expression.

“Y-you sure it’s okay?” you asked softly.

“Yeah! Was this the first time you had muscle spasms?” He sent a feather towards you, tickling your nose before circling around and rubbing at the back of your neck. You felt yourself on the brink of tears again at the soft gesture.

“No...” you murmured. “But I haven’t had them in a while I- I thought they were gone.” He nodded, humming.

“What triggers them?”

“Just- general anxiety and bad thoughts...” you mumbled.

“Alright. If you ever start ticking again, just call me. I’ll swoop in and help you. I’m pretty sure it’s hard to get stuff done when your body moves without you.” he flashed you a bright smile.

“Doesn’t it... weird you out?” you asked. “I could hurt you... I could accidentally break something I- I-”

“Baby.” you looked up at him. He took a step towards you, cupping your face into his hands and pressing a kiss to your lips. “I’m here for you. I care about you so I’m going to do everything in my power to make you feel comfortable. It’s my duty as hero, but more-so as your boyfriend.” you sniffled, nodding.

“Baby?”

“Yes, Dove?”

“You’re gonna burn the bacon.”

“SHIT!”

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*orIcouldrunawayandfakemydeathandlivemycottagecoredreamwithablindcatohhhyeahthatsoundssomucheasier

Translation: Or I could Just run away and fake my own death and live my cottage core dream with a blind cat ohhh yeah that sounds so much easier

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tigerdrop · 3 years

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in lieu of doing more strenuous hand-based activities heres the Dogboy Gordon In Heat Megamix ive been talking about. i wrote this over the course of a couple months in an effort to feel okay about writing horny shit again and i only just realized there are nearly 6 thousand words here. and they only really fuck for like 10% of that

ta-dah

ive thought a lot about gordon being stuck back at gordonhouse after getting kicked out of barneyhouse. i think its ripe for a lot of pining. (and yes, he is pining over the guy hes actively banging. hes being a big mopey idiot over the fact that he doesnt get to have his fuckbuddy around 24/7.) absence makes the heart grow fonder or whatever and gordons already at a baseline of "wheres benrey. wheres benrey"......and now i am about to turn it up to 11

so lets say......gordons starting to feel weirdly under the weather. sweaty and irritable and tired. hes holing himself up in his room a lot, wrapping himself up in blankets to fight off a chill and a sniffliness that wont go away. and hes gettin awfully moody, too. real fuckin testy. starting shit with freemind for no reason and snapping at og gordon like hes a teenager. and......hes nesting, almost, or at least, gathering up a whole bunch of blankets and pillows and anything that smells vaguely like benrey. (hes not really aware hes doing this last thing.)

basically, long story short, feetman is fucked up. hes pathetic. hes being a huge bitch. at least og gordon feels vaguely sorry for him, and expresses this by way of observing him and trying to treat it. for science. its better than freemind, who just loudly complains about him being a huge bitch and reeking up the place. theres something weird coming from vr gordons corner of the house.....a musky, heady, hormonal kind of thing that makes freemind act simultaneously territorial and irritable and more lascivious than normal. and that also piques og gordons attention, because having both of them be wound up little freaks at the same time is enough to make even the most resilient person pull their hair out

now gordon primes got his suspicions as to whats going on, but hes not gonna tell vr gordon that he suspects hes going into heat. that would compromise the experiment, and all that. so poor gordons just going thru all this shit not knowing what in the fuck is wrong with him and getting more worked up and irritable about it by the day. hes convinced that hes just got the flu, or something......except, uh, haha, jesus christ he is horny all the FUCKING TIME

he doesnt get it! he feels like shit all the time, so why is he constantly fighting off boners and having weird wet dreams and thinking about-- well. his fucking boyfriend, he guesses. (are they boyfriends?? he doesnt know. he gets a weird, sharp pang when he thinks about them not being boyfriends, at this point, but its not like theyve ever talked about it!) gordons half-convinced that hes just losing his mind from being stuck inside all the time and he really just wants to see benrey again. its, like, all he thinks about. (see? hes losing it. theres the proof.)

the sucks thing for everybody else is that gordon is also Extremely Vocal about how shitty he feels and how much he wishes he didnt feel shitty so he could go see benrey and how much he cant stand benrey for not being able to read his mind and come over when he feels bad. eventually freemind gets so sick of his shit that he decides to cut out the middleman and get benrey involved directly. "come take care of your fucking dog before i call the aspca! animal neglect is a crime, asshole!"

(if pressed, freemind would adamantly reject the idea that hes being nice to gordon. but on some level, hes kinda sympathetic. the guys clearly miserable, and he just keeps asking for the same fucking thing. might as well humor him to shut him up.)

vr gordon is completely unaware of these machinations, however. hes just holed up in his room trying to work out what makes him feel better because, uhh, powerade isnt helping

jacking off doesnt do a whole lot for him anymore. like, it feels good, but its not very satisfying. gordon just ends up feeling more restless than anything afterward. and hes always stupid horny. more blankets. a box fan. less blankets. sleeping with one of benreys shirts pressed up to his face. grinding into his pillow when he wakes up hard from yet another weird dream. theyre all a little helpful, and he feels like hes working towards the right thing, somehow, but its never really enough to take the edge off

and then.....he tries......jerking off more. especially when he realizes that its bizarrely soothing to do so while he can smell benrey up close and personal on that stupid shirt of his. better still when he rolls onto his side.....and then his stomach.......rocking his hips into the mattress until he gets the idea to lift his hips a little. and......oh. cool. something kind of......clicks. in his head. as he raises his hips higher while he keeps his arms wrapped around a pillow and benreys shirt jammed against his nose. hes got that lil moment of realization that this is good, actually. this feels like a good move. and its making some of that discomfort melt away

and gordon thinks about.....how it felt. earlier. when they were with barmey. and benrey had him just like this, ass up, face down, and was spreading him apart and licking him open and making him submit and he groans so fucking hard that embarassment just rips through him like lightning. but his tail starting to wag a little faster.....electricity shooting through his belly......and he cant help but wonder. what if benrey had kept going? pulled back and-- maybe, replaced his tongue with his fingers, one at a time, curling them inside him and telling him how well hes behaving and-- and his dick throbs, hard, and gordon realizes he wants fingers inside of himself right fucking now, thank you, hes not fully certain how to accomplish it be he is going to fucking try

(sigh) so my guy figures out about the old fingers in the ass trick. and i need you to understand that i am fully convinced that this is one of those guys who has an uproarious reaction to getting fingers in his ass. mr repressed and uptight over here doesnt really get what the big deal is until he gets braver and pushes a little deeper and hes rock hard in an instant, goodbye, just like everybodys favorite creative writing exercise

and this is what he decides to do for a solid day or two without leaving his room, because, honestly, this is awesome. and the longer he spends jerking off the less time he spends stressing about the fact that his imaginations getting really vivid, here. sure, like, hes no stranger to weird dreams even before this, but this is the first time hes really letting his mind run wild and this dude is nonstop thinking about being bred and gordon still has no fucking idea that hes in heat. doesnt even occur to him

unfortunately this also does not solve his problems but at least it feels baller and it keeps him occupied. also, unfortunately, the increased rate of jerking off is causing a serious uptick in Dog Smells, the effect of which is turning freemind into a nightmare. its just not good vibes in this house. enter: benrey

now i need you to understand that when these two meet up again i want gordon to get Emotional. think about how genuinely excited he gets to see some of his pals in canon. the like......excitement and disbelief when benrey shows up outside his window throwing rocks at it before noclipping in. he forgets to even act pissed off at first. i think it would be super fucking cute for him to drop the game for a moment just out of shock, basically. his tails waggin, his ears are perked up, and hed probably tackle benrey to the ground if he wasnt also a sweaty, trembling mess whos been holed up in his room for days.

and benrey has No Fucking Idea what he has walked in on here. as far as benrey knows, freemind just demanded he get over there and take care of his dog.

(INTERLUDE: here is the part where i gin up a freemind POV of this exact scene. b/c i am out of my fucking mind

so. i had the thought of a freemind POV chapter where hes spying on gordon and benrey.....because. gordons in heat. ive talked about that scenario before too (literally so many FUCKING times okay i just need this dude to have the uncontrollable urge to be bred like a little bitch! and for benrey to take pity on him and make him feel better by nutting in him literally as many times as is physically possible!!!)

but i wanna manifest it in this specific way: from an outside perspective. voyeurism is great and also i have a one track mind and basically the only time i traffic in Other Guys in this fandom anymore is as a participant in gordon and benreys horse shit. Im not apologizing for this

lets say.....vr gordons behavior has been getting worse and worse for "unknown reasons" and freeman prime just sees it as a key observational opportunity for his research. while freeminds getting really irritated at how much its cutting into his normal way of life. for one thing, vr gordons room reeks, and he cant even escape it in his own room! and its turning him into a feisty, aggressive, and loud son of a bitch. but he cant even resolve it in his usual fashion at this point (baiting vr gordon into another competition/fuckfest) b/c gordons being a little sadsack holed up in his room and doesnt wanna play

but also.....he kinda just feels bad for the guy at a certain point. hes clearly really miserable and looks downright ill and all hes asking for is to see his boytoy again. (gordons convinced that hes dying, and feels the need to dramatically speak to benrey one last time before he croaks.) so freemind decides, in all his benevolence, to go over gordon primes head and drag the guy over there anyway. (with machinations, not his literal bare hands. what is he, a caveman?) he reasons that itll be a good opportunity to twist gordons arm into groveling at his feet later

and he spies on the two of them in gordons room.....why? idk. possibly something to do with investigating this relationship between a gordon and a barney that he had yet to fully analyze. tl;dr he gets trapped in their closet for a remix of that one barmey voyeurism chapter b/c why the fuck not

i just.....i dont know.....i think theres something really charming about a 3rd party not being able to fully make out what theyre saying or doing but piecing things together anyway.....like benreys weirdly soft tone of voice when hes talking to a super agitated gordon. as far as any of them know, hes not really like that. he either sounds bored or smug, but either way, its usually straight-up antagonistic

it would make freemind bristle to hear it b/c its almost a mocking tone, but.....it makes gordons shoulders drop and gets him to let go of some of that tension and thats probably fascinating to watch. literally soothing him like a stressed out dog, huh. smoothing back his hair and murmuring things in a low, even tone that freeminds enhanced hearing still isnt good enough to make out. (the guy mumbles, okay? he needs a fucking toastmasters meetup.)

it would equal parts horrify and fascinate freemind, in my onion. watching a version of himself fall that hard into the loyal pet role.....its pathetic! for all that gordon goes on about not being a slave to his instinct or whatever, he sure is doing a bad job of acting like it! its like watching himself, but worse.

and benreys having to soothe him like a startled animal b/c he doesnt even know whats wrong with himself, but theres something thick enough on the air that even benrey can smell it, and hes taking some stabs at the dark. especially with how charged some of the shit gordons saying is......"i cant fucking take it anymore", "you smell so good", "i dont know whats wrong with me, man, my dick hasnt gone down for days and im pretty sure i need a doctor-- no, a real one, not the other gor-- NOT a vet, JESUS"

and the whole time.....freeminds peeking from behind a closet door. watching them devolve from outright hostility into "gordon climbing into benreys lap and shoving one of benreys hands up his shirt and demanding that he fucking touch him already"

normally i dont think freemind would be averse to a little bit of voyeurism, here. if it was anybody else, hed probably at least engage in a little heavy petting. but this is getting weird, man. he cant shake the uncanny feeling that this is something too intimate for him to be watching. for one thing, gordons whimpering like a goddamn dog just from a little necking, and for two, hes never really been the kind of guy to watch people make out for 15 minutes before they get to the good stuff

its just kind of unsettling how much these two clearly really, really like each other at this point. its not like watching gordon prime give vr gordon a handjob as part of a "test". freemind expected more of a hatefuck kind of deal out of these two, what with how often gordons normally going on about how much he hates the guy, what a pain in the ass benrey is, how he just wishes benrey would stop jerking him around.....etc. freemind could shit himself right now. that lying bitch!

i imagine its also kind of painful, on a personal level, for him to watch this borderline-sappy shit. he cant even fathom being on the receiving end of that behavior, let alone from......well. theyve all got their barneys, right? and gordon primes basically doomed himself to incel status b/c he wont nut up and do anything about it. freemind just assumed they were all in the same boat: cursed to casual sex with their roommates/clones, forever, and unable to achieve any kind of intimacy b/c all 3 gordons are fucked up in the exact same way. since theyre all just diff flavors of the same fucking guy, right?

well, theres the evidence that hes wrong. and that vr gordons better than him, somehow. thats gotta suck, bro

anyway then he watches vr gordon get railed in the ass a bunch and jerks off anyway b/c its still hot. see ya)

“take care of your dog”. huh. hes got no clue what that means but, yknow, he does kinda miss his dog. hasnt seen gordon in awhile. and he immediately comments "wow. you look fucked up" in as blunt and unsympathetic a way as possible. but gordons so far gone that he cant even work up a good anger about it. he is pretty fucked up, man. and benrey sits on the bed and slaps his forehead with a palm to take his temperature (and that gets gordon to bitch at him, finally, that thats not how you do it, asshole) and judges that, uh, he is hot. in his expert opinion

and thats when gordon kinda grabs his sleeve and tugs it and starts tryin to say something. hes really bad at it, because he is having to perform the mortifying task of Owning Up To It, but eventually he manages to grind out that he needs benrey to touch him, please. just pet him. something. he feels really bad and he just needs benrey to scratch his fucking ears. this is the most gordon can cop to in one go, and it is such a sad struggle to watch, but benreys caught off guard by it and he feels weirdly bad for gordon upon hearing it so hes just like "whoa, okay" when gordon tugs his hand to his head

gordon groans the moment his fingernails start scratching behind the ears and digging into his scalp. even just that much feels really fucking good. its comforting, for one thing, and its benrey, for another, and the physical touch feels so fucking good right now that goosebumps are crawling down his neck. gordon cant help but lean against benrey and bury his head in the crook of his shoulder. he wants to hide his face from scrutiny and he wants to get closer but he doesnt know how to say what his fucking problem is

and benreys weirdly quiet. just kinda mumbling and shushing him intermittently, awkward and not sure what to do b/c this is a level of intimacy he was not expecting but gordons sure is responding nicely to a second hand in his hair

so having both of benreys hands scratching at his scalp is really getting to gordon. hes scritchin behind the ears and gordons tails wagging at a mile a minute. the feelings making goosebumps race down his neck and arms. he starts kind of mumbling something into benreys shoulder, how hes been feeling so fucked up lately, and he squirms a little closer. hes not really aiming for anywhere in particular but every neuron thats firing in him right now is telling him to get closer. make contact. he missed the fucking guy, what can he say.

and one of benreys hands......slips down to gordons face. his jaw. a thumb pushing into that soft little divot between his jaw and neck, like hes trying to push up into gordons fucking teeth. its weird and bizarrely intrusive, but benreys hand is broad and warm and gordon leans into it anyway, groaning with relief. its not like its not doing anything for him. kind of the opposite, actually. then he palms at gordons neck, and gordon starts breathing harder. he can feel his heartbeat rabbit-fast, pushing against benreys skin (and theres no way benrey isnt feeling that, too).

benrey eyes are lidded and his breaths starting to get heavier, too. naturally, yknow, since gordons practically draped over him right now, melting all the more the longer benrey keeps petting him. oxytocin is crazy, man, especially when a guys in the full throes of some kind of chemical meltdown of the glands. gordons eyes are screwed shut, tail thumping furiously against the bed, and hes panting at benreys neck like hes a fucking dog. he just doesnt know how to articulate what the fuck his problem is

benrey smells insanely good to him right now, and gordon just blurts that out. benrey gives him some shit for it, but when gordon only makes a weird noise in response and fists his hands in benreys hoodie, it makes him shut up real quick. hes squeezing out words about feeling like he needs something, but its clearly a fucking effort. its almost pitiful

so. gordons crawled right into benreys lap, too impatient after days and days of feeling like this (you know, being in heat, in so many words). hes been pounding off like crazy, that brand new collar of his strapped to his neck nearly every time b/c hes that desperate to feel… well. *benrey*. he cant fucking jerk off to thoughts of anything else - porn doesnt do it for him, and his fantasies slip right back to the same thing every single time. its frustrating! hes bisexual, for gods sake! its not like hes normally immune to the wiles of the Phat Ass White Girl, but lately he just keeps ending up on his hands and knees and whining benreys name into his pillow and he couldnt focus on a girls rack if he tried

point being. hes being awfully fucking demanding. (and also, hes wearing the collar *right fucking now)*. he shoves benreys hand up his shirt and shivers the moment he makes contact with gordons burning-hot flesh. and hes demanding that benrey touch him already, jesus, hes losing his mind! and benreys just crooning at him, “bossy, huh,” but hes scritching gordons ears and palming at his side and nosing at gordons neck and gordon starts to feel like hes melting into it. his protests at being talked down to are perfunctory at best

benrey licks a stripe up gordons neck and starts muttering his stupid horseshit right in gordons ear and it makes gordon clutch his shoulders so tight, claws digging into the meat of him. benreys kind of into it, though, and it just makes him laugh, low and harsh and right in gordons ear. that just makes gordons problem worse. he lets out quiet, nasal whines on every exhale, like a literal fucking dog.

he starts teasing, like, “haha, you’re *gagging* for it, bro,” but gordon doesnt respond with the defensiveness he expects. instead, its like opening a floodgate - he is, hes fucking *desperate*, okay, his dick hasnt gone down in days and he wants benrey so bad he cant see straight and he cant stop thinking about him and all of this comes tumbling out of him at once. gordons trying to press himself as close to benrey as he can physically get, legs straddling benreys lap and arms clutched tight around his back. and when benrey prods a little more, tells gordon to say what hes been thinkin about, gordon starts to pant, squeezing his eyes shut. but he cant bring himself to do anything more than choke and stutter on the words

hes half-hard in his underwear already (and, lets be be clear, he was only in boxer briefs and a tank top to begin with. hes sweating buckets and its the least amount of clothing he could get away with wearing around the house) and his tails thumping a mile a minute and hes so far gone, just from benrey talking down to him and kissing his neck and scratching his ears. but hes not budging yet, so benrey slides that hand on his ears over to his ponytail and *yanks*. tells him, “speak.” gordons dick twitches rapidly, and he lets out a sharp sound, and he finally says it: he needs benrey to *fuck* him, jesus

benrey lets out a harsh breath at that. “yeah? thats what puppy wants?” and the nickname should blister him, make him feel to embarrassed to continue, but gordons too desperate to care. he just starts spewing a litany of “god yes”s and “please”s. hes getting harder and harder, pressed up against benreys belly, and benrey can *feel* it. “good boy,” he mutters, and those claws dig harder, that panting gets louder and harsher

he slips a hand around to gordons back, rubbing slowly for a moment as if to soothe him, and then slides it under the back of gordons boxers. and lower still. starts rubbing at gordons hole. that gets a quiet “oh god” out of gordon.

gordon cant help himself - he rocks forward against benrey, just a little, rubbing his bulge against what he realizes is benreys *extremely* hard dick in his sweatpants. hes not the only one whos got it bad. but he *is* the only one whispering, “fuck, fuck, fuck,” as benrey pushes a little further, makes as if hes about to breach gordon dry. the poor guys so needy that he probably wouldnt even argue!

but benrey just stares at him, wide eyed and flushed, mouth hanging open a little. gordons so hot for this that it surprises the both of them.

anyway after some boring position finagling benrey coaxes gordon onto his hands and knees, running a broad hand down gordons shaking back. and he pulls back gordons tail, exposing him. its so fucking humiliating - gordons got his face buried in a pillow, and his ass in the air, and hes never felt so *vulnerable* before. he wants to argue, he wants to lift his head and look back to make sure that everythings, like, okay back there - benreys staring at his entire asshole, okay, and he wasnt exactly anticipating benrey making a house call to fuck him in the ass - but every time he lifts his head, or starts to say something neurotic about it, benrey chides him about it. clicks his tongue. tells him, “hey. dogs dont talk” or “i said *bow*, bro”.

for all his insisting that hes a real guy, that hes not just a dog, gordons feeling less and less like a human and more like something in thrall to his instincts. the condescension rankles like it always does, but doing what benrey tells him to feels good. feels natural. presenting himself like this feels like what hes *supposed* to do. it doesnt stop him from running his mouth entirely, but it helps to mitigate some of the embarrassment.

and then… benrey *licks*. gordon tenses and gasps. he doesnt know how benrey can stand it, its gotta be, like, unhygienic! but that didnt scare him off the last time they tried this, and its not like gordon hasnt thought about it since. hes thought about it a lot, actually. but hes been too neurotic to ask for it. benreys not stupid, though. hes a good dog owner (at least, so he thinks) and hes gonna take care of his dog. so he licks again, and again, pressing a little harder against gordons hole on each pass with the broad side of his tongue until he dares to breach it with the tip.

gordons rock hard again in an instant. his dick hangs between his legs and drips onto the sheets. he digs his fingers into the pillow now, tearing holes in its surface with those sharp nails of his, and he makes embarrassingly high noises that he muffles into into the pillow, too. hes tense, hes so fucking tense, he should be clamping down and making benreys task really fucking hard, but theres bright pink sweet voice dripping from his hole and benreys rubbing the side of his thigh in an effort to soothe him and both of these things work in tandem to get him to relax. and benrey works his tongue in further, further than a human ought to.

the tip was one thing, but it gets wider as benrey pushes it in, and its just as good as it was before - better, even, because now its just the two of them, just a master and his dog, and benreys the only one he wants to see him like this. bent over and whimpering. he cant— he cant stomach the thought of anybody else doing this to him. hell, there was a point once where the idea of stomaching *benrey* doing this to him would have made him laugh. but here he is. benreys fucking him open with his tongue and pressing against something thats making him see stars and gordon just wants *more*. he says it so sweet, too, voice growing hoarse and raw as he begs benrey to just fucking do it already, he doesnt wanna come like this!

gordon gets so worked up and emotional about it that benrey takes the time to scratch behind his ears again, shushing him and telling him to chill. benreys got him. hes been a good dog, and good dogs get treats. hearing the words “good dog” makes gordons entire body flush. thats all he wants, really. he wants to be a good dog. he wants to be *told*. he blurts out, “oh my god— say it again,” and benreys like, “huh? say what? youre gonna have to be more specific,” clicking the last syllable. it makes all the hairs on gordons head rise and prickle with shame. the best he can do is mumble it into his pillow.

benrey hears it, though, and tugs at gordons collar from behind, just enough to raise his head. “whassat? you want me to call you a good boy?” gordon cant bring himself to answer that directly, but his stupid body betrays him by making him whine. jesus christ, yes, thats all he WANTS! he needs benrey to be good and nice to him for once in his fucking life and give him what he wants instead of taking, taking, taking! but benrey just tells him that hes gonna have to earn it. gonna have to be *real* good for him. gordon could fucking snarl at that, but benreys pulling back to rub his dick between gordons cheeks and against his hole and that shuts him up pretty fast because hes *so close* to getting what he wants and hes not about to fuck it up now by running his big dumb mouth

and then… he starts to push in. that sweet voice has loosened gordon up enough to take even benrey, who, uh, is definitely the bigger of the two, in that regard. he goes slow, uncharacteristically so, and gordons chest heaves with the force of how hard hes breathing. a quiet string of “oh god”s spills out of him as he tries to crane his neck back to watch. the head breaches him with a strange popping sensation, and benrey groans, loud, as the rest of him slides in with little resistance in comparison. “good,” he pants in turn, “youre takin it so good,” and—

and gordon comes, in weak, aborted spurts. it snuck up on him. he clenches so fucking tightly that it winds benrey a little. he breathes out, “whoa. did you—” but gordon just begs him to shut up, keep going, hes not— hes not done yet, its always like this, its not *enough*. his dick barely even flags afterward, it just hangs there, achingly hard and dripping with cum. benrey cant even find it in himself to make fun of him. he wants it so fucking bad, doesnt he? and he feels so good, so fucking tight and slick around benrey that the only thought running through his head is “gotta take care of my dog gotta fuck my best friend gotta nut in him and make him howl”. so he pushes himself alllll the way in until theyre pressed together, skin to skin.

then he starts to move. slow, careful thrusts, more for benreys benefit than gordons. if hes not careful, hes gonna blow his load, right then and there, and hes trying to make it good for gordon, too, okay? unlike *some* of them, hes not gonna bust in two minutes and then spend the next half hour crying and trauma-dumping to the guy hes still got his dick inside of.

once he thinks hes got a grip, though, benrey starts fucking him in earnest, and that changes gordons vocalizations from weak little whimpers into something louder. less restrained. hes given up any pretense of being quiet so that his other selves dont hear that hes snuck his boytoy into his room. just loud, wordless moans on each thrust, initially muffled into the pillow but soon spilling into the wider room when he turns his head to catch his breath. the only words hes managing are “oh god” and “please” and “benrey, benrey, *benrey*”, and benrey just responds to him like, “yeah? thats good? fuuuck, bro, so good for me,” all short of breath and barely able to speak himself

he wants to see gordons face. he *needs* to see gordons face. needs to see what hes doing to him, needs to see that cute fuckin blush of his. so he tugs on gordons collar again, bringing him to his hands and knees properly instead of that bowing position. and then further still - pulls him back so that benreys on his knees, and gordons on his knees in turn, on his lap, cock still buried inside of him and fucking him in short, hurried thrusts. “paws up,” benrey tells him, and gordon does it. instantly. no resistance. just folds them at his chest like a real dog would.

“whos a good boy?” benrey croons, right in his ear again. gordon gasps, “i-i am!”

“yeah? youre a good boy?” nod, wail. “whose— whose good boy are you?”

and gordon chokes on his response. he cant say it, he *cant*, he doesnt want to be benreys but he does, he *does*. he doesnt want to be benreys because its not fucking fair! he cares so fucking much! so much more than benrey does, it feels like, obsessing over the guy like hes wrapped thorny vines all around gordons heart and he cant so much as shift in his seat without feeling the tug and the ache and thinking of benrey again. and benrey doesnt care, he never fucking cares, except—

except he showed up at gordons house, in his room. without even being asked. like he knew something was wrong. and he— hes always talking to gordon, shooting him stupid texts just to make him laugh. scheduling *date nights* for them. date nights where, yeah, maybe they couldnt see each other in person, and maybe they always end in some kind of depraved sexual act, but its not like gordons not into it. hes frighteningly into it, actually. and hes *so* into hearing benreys voice, low and crooning, right in his ear, and seeing him lean on an elbow and smile at him afterward. its— its practically genuine. and benreys always making excuses to talk with him, do things with him, watch stupid fucking movies that only gordon cares about and stream with him on twitch to help boost his subscriber count and—

and—

oh god. maybe he *does* care. that might be more terrifying than the alternative.

then benrey yanks the collar again. presses the whole of gordons back against his front in one hot, unbroken line. and asks, “i said, whose good boy are you, bro? *speak.*”

“benrey,” he blurts out, a ragged moan, “d-dont make me sa-AY it, oh god—”

“no?” benrey stills suddenly. his hands keep gordon stuck in place, unable to move or bounce or feel benrey shift inside of him. “thats, uh… thats too bad, friend. this trains for good boys only. good dogs go to heaven 2. no bad dogs allowed. gonna have to, uhh, escort you off—”

“im not a bad dog!”

“i dunno, gordo. bein’ kind of, uh… disobedient.”

(sorry. thats all i got . byeeee)

#this is so far from finished b/c A) im a coward now and B) typing qith my left hand sucks so i dont wanna do it right now. Sorry #writin stuff

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pennylanefics · 3 years

Text

Regrets - Derek Hale

a/n: i think my vaccine microchip came with an inspiration software 🤣🤣�� completely kidding lol. but yeah. i came up with this idea fairly quickly and started it soon after :)

•••

“Will you just listen to me?!”

“Derek, I’m trying my hardest! I don’t know what you want me to do!”

“I want you to listen to my instructions and do what I say!”

“I’m fucking trying! But it’s hard to understand what you mean when I don’t know much about fighting!”

This has been happening all morning. Training with your boyfriend Derek wasn’t going well. You were getting frustrated because it was tough to keep up with him, who's been a werewolf his entire life, and he was getting frustrated with you for the same reason, not being able to properly complete the moves he was giving you.

“Are you?” He asks sarcastically. You scoff at him and pick up your bottle of water.

“I am.”

“Because I don’t think you are.” You throw your water down out of anger and stalk over towards him.

“Fuck right off, Derek. You know I am. You know I’m the one who asked for this! You know I’m willing to put the work in to become a good werewolf!”

“I don’t think you’ll ever be,” he states. You are taken aback by his bluntness.

“Excuse me?” You step back.

“I don’t think you’ll ever be a good werewolf. I honestly see you getting killed before you can defend yourself. You’re not retaining anything I’m telling you, so yeah, I don’t think you’re as serious about this as you say you are!”

The room falls silent and you try to keep your tears at bay. Derek turned you a few weeks ago, months after he told you what he really is. Ever since that day, you imagined being like him, being able to have super senses and super strength, everything.

He was reluctant to turn you, after what happened with Paige of course, but he was willing to take a risk, since you’re both older than when that happened. But now, he wasn’t so sure he made the right choice.

“You really think that?” You question in a soft tone. You tried to conceal your hurt, but you knew he could sense it.

“Yeah,” he crosses his arms. “You’re not pushing yourself enough, you’re constantly breaking down crying because of it, and you cut every day short claiming to want to spend time with me as just a couple. But that can’t happen until you learn how to control this!”

Your emotions were going crazy right now. You didn’t know whether to yell back at him, punch him, kick him, or just walk out.

“You know what,” you murmur, picking your things up. “I’ll find another pack, one who actually wants me to succeed and won’t tell me that I’m useless. And I’ll also find another boyfriend, because I’m not going to sit here and be told I can’t have a normal relationship until I’m a good enough werewolf, when the two have nothing to do with one another.”

With that, you give Derek one last glare and walk out of the loft, planning on never seeing him again.

Of course, though, Beacon Hills always brings people back. And that’s how you ended up returning. Scott reached out to you about something called the Benefactor, which had a list that you happened to be on.

Surprise, surprise, the day you come back, things have turned to shit. You were out strolling in the woods, looking for Scott, where he told you to meet him, when you stumbled into a fight. That fight happened to be with the Benefactor and none other than Derek.

You were quick to move into action, throwing the creature off of him. They scurry away much too fast for you to catch a real glimpse of them. Unfortunately, that leaves you and Derek alone.

“Thank you,” he breathes out, dusting his shirt and pants off. You hum and move along, but before you could get away, he stops you.

“Wait, (Y/N)?” He asks. You raise your eyebrows at him and cross your arms. “I didn’t know you were back.”

“Mhm.” You are short with your response, not wanting to speak to him much. So, you turn in the other direction and start running, hoping to find Scott along the way. Derek must have sensed you wanted nothing to do with him since he didn’t follow you.

A couple days later, after things settled down in Beacon Hills for the time being, Scott invited you to the pack meeting they were having to go over any information or sources on the Benefactor.

When you arrived, you noticed a few new faces, one of which was a woman with scars stretching around her neck. You immediately noticed her in a shirt of Derek’s, one you wore all the time when you were together.

You felt a small pang in your chest, but being around supernatural beings, you tried to hide it. Scott knew, though. For the time, you push your feelings aside and pay attention to Scott and Stiles running the meeting.

Throughout, you could feel a pair of eyes on you, and you knew exactly who it was. Every time you glanced over, you caught Derek staring at you, when you were talking and even when you were just sitting there. After a few times of catching him, you give him a hard glare, eyebrows raised in wonder, wonder of why he was focused on you.

The meeting ends and everyone begins to leave one by one or two by two. Braeden had been one of the first few to leave, and you were just heading out behind Scott, the last person. But just as you were walking towards the door, Derek stops you.

Turning around, you face him and tell Scott you’ll be okay getting home. He nods and shuts the door, leaving you alone with Derek in a place that holds so many happy yet painful memories. You step further inside and stop a couple feet in front of him.

“What?” You snap, noticing the slight wince in Derek’s expression. He sighs, saying nothing.

“Is there any reason you asked me to stay? Because if not, I’d like to get back to my hotel. I’ve had a long fucking day.”

“I’m sorry,” he begins. Your eyes narrow at him in confusion. “I’m sorry for what happened a few years ago. I didn’t mean to diminish your abilities and possible future as a werewolf.”

“Then why’d you say it? Why’d you tell me I would never be a good enough werewolf? Which, by the way, I’ve succeeded in, thanks to my new, welcoming pack.” Again, he winces, realizing how much pain he truly caused you.

“I was angry. I was still trying to deal with the death of my sister and the Darach that was terrorizing Beacon Hills at the time. I was so stressed out and overworked, I just needed you to do good so we could go out and help the pack.”

“That still gives you no excuse to tell me I’m going to be killed simply because I was overwhelmed with the amount of information given to me in such a short amount of time.”

“I know, I know. And I really am sorry.”

“I don’t forgive you.” He sighs and steps closer, not too much to alarm you but enough to let you know this conversation isn’t over.

“Is there anything I can do to possibly go back to what we had? Or even just friends? Can I gain your trust back?”

“Derek, I-”

“Ever since you saved me the other night, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. The first time we met in rainy New York City, our first date, the first time we kissed, the first time you slept over at my place. And I’ve been remembering how awful I felt for letting you get away so easily when I could have fought to keep you to stay. When I realized you were truly gone, I haven’t forgiven myself either.”

The more Derek speaks, the more you miss him. You missed the times where he wasn’t yelling or screaming fighting techniques at you. The times where you’d cuddle up in bed and just talk, or not talk and just lay in each other’s arms, recharging from a hard day. The days where he woke you up to breakfast in bed, or takeout and movie nights at Scott’s when him and his mother were gone.

“I-I don’t,” you stutter. You could feel your strong facade fading quickly. One of his infamous Derek smirks would make you fall right back into his arms.

“You know I can hear your heartbeat and smell your nerves,” he teases, and of course, that damned smirk making its way onto his lips.

“I know, and I hate that about us.” He chuckles and comes to a stop right in front of you, only a foot away. He keeps himself from pulling you into his arms, and you keep yourself from pouncing on him.

“I missed you,” he whispers. “Actually, I still miss you.”

“I missed you too, Derek.” You couldn’t believe you were admitting this. Derek had consumed your thoughts ever since you left, sure, but his words always played back in your head, making you not miss him as much. But now, standing face to face, you truly did love him and love being with him.

You two remain silent for a moment, when Derek reaches up to cup one of your cheeks with his large hand. HIs thumb strokes your cool skin and you can’t help but lean into his touch, getting lost in his beautiful green eyes.

“Can I kiss you?” He whispers, his eyes darting between your own and your lips.

You didn’t answer him only because you found yourself leaning into his body, wrapping your arms around his body and trailing your hands up his back. You crash your lips into his and he deepens the kiss almost immediately.

“Mhm,” you groan as you pull away for a moment. His hands don’t leave your cheeks.

“What?” He gasps for air.

“What about Braeden?” He furrowed his eyebrows and looked around.

“What about her?”

“Aren’t you two dating?”

“No. Did someone tell you we were?”

“She was wearing a shirt of yours at the meeting, so I figured.” He chuckles and glances down between your bodies, slightly embarrassed.

“No, we aren’t dating. We may have slept together a couple of times, but it’s nothing more,” he assures you. Still, you’re skeptical.

“Are you sure?” You push once more. He nods, a small smile on his face as he admires you.

“You’re the only woman I want.”

#derek hale #derek hale imagines #derek hale x reader #derek hale imagine #tyler hoechlin #teen wolf #teen wolf imagines #imagines #fanfiction #fanfic

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wizkiddx · 3 years

Text

...surprise

um okay so here I am trying angst again. this is kind of intended to be open ended bcos might have a part two at some point. im also lazy and has a few time jumps. also if someone could pls explain if you just get pics for the top of these off internet or credit on like gifs or something that’d be appreciated.

Summary: Tom comes home and everything is most definitely not the way he left, nor is it healthy

Warnings: please read with caution esp relationship with food / weightloss, but just generally a person in a bad bad head space, lots of self blame - then next parts will carry different warnings too

************************

Tom had been away for months. Months and months away from his girlfriend, separated entirely by his filming locations in Europe and America; while you were busy slowly and steadily climbing the ranks of your law firm. Being an intense period for the pair, you hadn’t managed to see each other in 2 and a half months. Of course, both go you were used to this - 3 years deep into a relationship between an actor and a wanna-be lawyer- this was the name of the game.

But honestly? You both just kept falling deeper and deeper, making the separation harder to deal with - rather than getting used to it as one might hope.

That's why Tom felt such an incredibly overwhelming wave of relief as he dumped his bags just outside his front door. Even though he was exhausted from the travelling, just the mere act of finally phishing out his housekeys brought a massive grin to his face - caused particularly by the sight of his tacky little keyring from a Moroccan market that you’d bought him. That had been your first holiday. There’s that old saying that before you move in with someone go on holiday first - Tom understood it to mean you supposedly see all the bad and ugly stuff people can hide from each other, a prewiring before committing to living in the same space. However that holiday all he’d learned was incredible you are to him. To his dying day, Tom will never forget the moment he looked over to his left when the two of you were on this night time stargaze in the depth of the Moroccan desert. Y/n had never seen stars like it, the skies so incredibly clear and lit up with an array of magical blues and purples and whites on its sark background. The sight, for no unexplainable reason, had you completely opening up to Tom about things she’d never told a single soul. And in that moment he’d had this sort of realisation. Not about how much he loved her - because that is just the cliche thing everyone says… and also just wasn’t true.

In that moment he’d rather realised the potential. The sort of ‘I’m not there yet but I know you could become the centre of my universe’. The sort of ‘I’m not ready to say this yet, but I want to spend my life with you’. The sort of ‘at some point in my life I’m not sure my heart will be able to beat without yours’.

He still hadn’t quite got to explicitly saying all that yet, by asking you for the ultimate commitment. But he planned to now he was coming back to you.

Even with the chill of the early evening winter air, Tom was almost ecstatic as he unlocked the door and let himself in. He hadn’t told you that he was coming home, you thought he had another two weeks on the job, but Tom was a bit of an old romantic - he loved seeing your eyes fill with wonder as he surprised you in whatever way. Sometimes it was as simple as a note on the fridge, or a small bouquet from behind his back or as fancy as a surprise holiday.

However, this time, though it was only 6 in the evening, all the lights of their house were off making Tom raise an eyebrow as he quietly slipped off his shoes - not wanting to scare Y/n just in case.

Tom had sworn when he’d been on the phone with you the previous day, you didn’t have any plans tonight but perhaps maybe a spontaneous pub trip and been offered with work colleagues. The house felt a little cold as he padded through it, poking his head into every room just to check Y/n wasn’t there. His last port of call was the bedroom.

By this point, Tom was pretty resigned on the fact you were out and he’d maybe cook a meal for when you got back or hide about the house or something. But instead, when he poked his head around this door, he sighed in delight at the sight of a still mound under the plush white sheets. For a brief moment, Tom paused, before tiptoeing steadily round to her bedside. The light was still off but the hallway light illuminated the room enough so he could make out your soft features and the messy ball of hair that had been haphazardly thrown in a bun. Furthermore, he could also notice in the light the packet of painkillers and migraine tablets lying opened on the bedside - which made him freeze. Y/n didn’t get migraines often at all, but when she did Tom knew just how bad they could be. That explained the fact you were spark out at six o’clock, making Tom give a sympathetic smile. He crept back out the room with a little spring in his step, deciding that since he had had a long day travelling he'd grab a snack and join you. Unfortunately though, when he enthusiastically yanked the fridge open the sight was a rather depressing one. He didn’t really know what he was craving but the fridge contents were of almost no use to anyone. The place was bloody baron, apart from a tub of butter and of course his special beers that Y/n would never dare touch. With a small huff though, Tom resigned himself to some bread and butter, before getting ready for bed.

It was probably an hour later when Tom was carefully crawling under the duvet to settle in beside Y/n after the disappointing snack and maybe a solitary ‘welcome home beer’ - it would be rude not to. God was he excited to just have his girlfriend in his arms again though. So, Tom naturally reached over and powerfully yet gently pulled you back towards him - making your back flush with his as you mumbled something incoherent. Chuckling slightly at your apparent annoyance of being disturbed, Tom pressed a kiss to her temple before settling down momentarily.

But something wasn’t quite right, making Tom shuffle about a bit - ever adjusting huis grasp on your waist as he attempted to get comfy. With the migraine medications forcing you into a deep deep sleep you barely stirred and that just made the unease increase for Tom. Because you didn’t feel right. This didn’t feel right. Ever so slowly Tom started to peel back the duvet from your body from his now sitting upright position. Typically, Y/n was wearing one of his hoodies, however more concerningly it seemed to pool and collect around your frame more than normal.

Now, Y/n was never the most petite person in the world - by no means overweight, instead of beautiful curves and muscle. To Tom now though, it was as if someone had literally shrunk you - like a picture on a word document you needed to make narrower to fit the margins. Even in the dim light of the bedroom he know realised you looked pale. Honestly, Tom didn’t know how long he just sat there staring at you, until you sighed a little and pulled the duvet back up to just under your chin.

He didn’t know what to think or do. All he knew was you didn’t look well and that you hadn’t said a thing to him. Feeling so very uncomfortable within himself, Tom climbed out the bed and simultaneously grabbed his phone. He knew he had to call someone, to check that you hadn’t been ill - but then who to call? Someone that wouldn’t judge or instantly worry- your mum was completely off the cards. Also, he hadn’t even given you the chance to explain yet, so really he knew there was only a couple of options who were close enough to him too.

“Hey what’s up?” “Um nothing much, back in the UK though so-“ “Oh shit really! Kept that one quite bro” “Yeh well came back to surprise Y/n” “Oh you're soooo whipped” “Fuck off Haz, have you um… have you seen her recently anyway?” “You're asking me if I’ve seen your girl while you’ve been away?” “I’m being serious. You’re pretty much brother and sister and I’m -I’m a bit worried.” “What? You know she wouldn’t cheat especially with me” Haz’s tone turned less serious, using a goofy accent “ I know too much.” Haz still attempted to lighten the mood, this conversation very unexpected and making him grow more and more concerned himself. “Haz quit it. I’m worried she’s been ill. I’ve come in and she’s asleep with a migraine but there’s no food in the fridge and she’s skinny as hell.” “Fuck er sorry I didn’t realise. But um no she’s been cancelling on us for the past like two weeks cos like…I don’t know said she was just snowed under at the firm so” “But before then?” “No yeh she was fine. Went to the pub a couple times and she always drove so didn’t drink but nothing weird - think she wanted to keep a clear head. What are you thinking?” “I don’t know to be honest mate. She seemed fine on the phone but I swear to god she looks half the size of what she was when I left.” “Just talk to her in the morning? She probably is just stressed if work has been mad busy.” Tom hummed in agreement, half trying to convince himself too. “Yeh yeh, sorry for bothering you.” “Oh shut up mate - I’ll see you both at your parents for the roast tomorrow? Sams got some new recipe I think, he’s been wittering on about it for days.” “Yeh we’ll be there, see you then mate.”

After signing off to Haz, Tom placed his phone on the little table on the upstairs hallway and sighed. He knew he was being over-protective but he couldn’t help it. Y/n was always the one to care for him, in fact to care for everybody int he room and then some.

He’d get to the bottom of whatever this was tomorrow, and so the rest of the evening Tom spent rather unhappily get ready before bed yet again before climbing back in next to you.

///////////////////////////

Tom woke before you, a combination of jet lag and the worry in the pit of his stomach meaning he stirred awake first. Instinctively he pulled you closer and nuzzled his nose into the side of your neck as he slowly began to wake up properly - shrugging off the grogginess. Tom was still really excited for you to realise he was back, predicting you to excitedly hug him ever so tight and then spend the morning between the sheets. He knew you found the distance tough, especially when all your closest friends were coupled off, it meant you just didn’t have ‘your person’. It was almost as if you were single again and instead of pining over an ex, hopelessly and completely in love with someone across the globe. But that just made your time together even more invaluable and precious.

So even with his slight unease at your slimmer silhouette, Tom didn't have any control over the loopy grin that came to his face as you started to stir and mumble something incoherent, all the while (and subconsciously) inching closer towards him. By the slight fluttering under your eyelid, Tom knew you were waking up and so took the moment to tuck your frizzy bed hair behind your ear. Sighing contently Y/n’s eyes fluttered completely open and Tom met your gaze with the most gently of smiles.

However, he then watched moment by moment as your expression morphed for one of peacefulness and content, through confusion, and ending at pure terror. He had barely thought of asking you why, before you yelped, throwing yourself up into a sitting position and backing as far away on the bed as you could from Tom. “TOM... I-you can’t be here! YOU’RE NOT SUPPOSED TO BE HERE!” “Y/n hey what’s wrong-“ “GET OUT! G-GET THE FUCK OUT! YOU CAN’T BE HERE” you yanked the bedsheets to completely cover your huddled up body, as if trying to protect yourself. At this point, tears were streaming down your face and what truly terrified Tom was the expression of horror in your eyes. He threw his hands in the air and unsteadily stumbled to his feet. “O-okay I’m-“ “GET OUT!!! YOU CAN'T SEE ME GET OUT!” Completely bemused and shocked, Tom just nodded jerkily -already halfway out the door and accidentally slamming it in haste.

He had absolutely zero clue what that was about. But what he knew for a fact? He’d never ever seen you like that… you looked so completely terrified… of him? Tom couldn’t for the life of him work out what the hell was going on, as he paced from the shut door to the hallway wall and back again, running his hand through his hair throughout. He could hear you sobbing and whisper yelling - presumably at yourself. It felt as though his heart was being torn out, seeing you that upset and it appearing as his fault? He was acting on pure instinct and adrenalin because your pain hurt him too. He had no control of the physiological response in his body, making his hands shake and breathing increase in speed as it inversely got shallower too.

And so he took a short inhalation, biting his bottom lip as he knocked on the door. “Y/n?….” He got no response after waiting a couple of seconds so tried again - because he could hear you trying to stifle your sobs. After another two failed attempts he opted for a different approach. “Y/n… I’m worried about you… look, I know your upset right now but I need you to let me know your okay… or I’ll have to come in and…and I don’t want to spook you” “Don’t come in.” It was a sharp reply, with a voice that was cracked and clearly trying to keep It together. “Okay… I-I’m sorry if my surprise of coming home was a dumb idea…I-I’ve missed you.” Tom tried speaking softly, as he knelt down and sat with this back against the wall while nervously fiddling with his watch strap that he’d forgot to take off last night. Again he waited for a response but got nothing, again having to warn you he needed to know you were okay. He heard movements from the other side of the door, making him turn his head to the left, pressing his ear on the cool gloss paint. “I-I’m sorry” You barely were whispering, but Tom could sense you were now sitting in a position mirroring his “You don’t meed to apologise love” Returning her tone, Tom sighed at the end - trying to get his brain to process what was going on.

Y/n wasn’t one to overreact and Tom could count on one hand the number of serious fights they’d had in the three year romance. And even then, he was the one to raise his voice - when she argued it was more reasoned, slow and controlled. Actually it was one of the things that in those moments infuriated him even more - you were just so level headed and sensible. Scratch that, sensible purely in this context - everywhere else you were just as loopy as him. So this situation felt so very alien. He didn’t know how to help you and he bloody hated feeling useless.

After a few moments, you replied to apologise once again, for shouting specifically, and Tom nodded - not that you could see. But that was one of the things Y/n had taught him, sometimes you just have accept things - no matter the context. Accept he wasn’t actually a superhero and couldn’t do everything, accept that sometimes he could be a dick and out of line or accept an apology.

“Can you.. can you try and tell me why your upset? I want to help.” He was trying to be gentle, non-confrontational. But he knew something was so wrong. He needed to know so he could try and help out. “I…”Y/n began, but quickly trailed off, as if trying to formulate the words properly. “I’ve just been ill and” again another pause “and I haven’t been looking after myself very well. I just planned to be umm- to be better when you got back.”

It wasn’t a lie. It wasn’t really the truth either, at least not the whole truth. But it wasn’t a lie.

“I’m not sure I understand why your so worried about what I think though?” Tom inquired, as he started to fiddle with the door handle in his left hand - as if easing the idea of coming into his girlfriend without scaring you. In reply, you sighed again trying to put the words together without explicitly spelling it out to him. “I don’t- I thought you’d just be disappointed or-or think I’m reliant on you. I’m not and I can handle myself I just…. I don’t know.” “I love you, you idiot.”Tom chuckled at that, while standing up. “Can I come in now please? I promise I’m not disappointed just want to help you feel better.”

The door opened and no sooner could Tom take a step forward than Y/n ran into his chest, wrapping herself tightly around him in apology. He knew that he didn’t have the full story but really didn’t want to push her, more preferring to just love her. So that’s what they spent the rest of the morning doing, in their pyjamas and watching TV. Quite obviously, she wasn’t really making a lot of conversation, Tom filled some gaps with talking about filming - to which she’d hum in agreement or chuckle along. But for the most part Y/n was concentrating on something else.

The all-consuming guilt. That was what was eating away at her.

part 2?

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #Tom Holland angst

273 notes · View notes

burnedbyshoto · 4 years

Text

disconnected

— Kirishima answers a phone call that wasn’t intended for him, and of course he can’t help but be interested in the beautiful voice and soul that angrily began to rant about their day. —

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pairing: kirishima eijirou x fem!reader

warnings: fluff, lil angst (lol sorry), cursing

word count: 7,786

a/n: this was a stupid thought that slammed into my mind, and here it is!!!! now I have a calc midterm tomorrow that I did not look at because why think about double derivatives and integrals when I can think about kirishima????

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It was eleven at night when Kirishima strolled out of his bathroom, ready to go to bed. After a rather long day, he was looking forward to sleeping and not having to wake up at the crack of dawn. Tomorrow for the very first day in a very long time, he wouldn’t have to work at the local coffee shop he was hired at. It was a job he had acquired with his good friends on the promise of it being a manageable job on top of his college work, and of course, the pretty girls who would go in.

From what Kirishima had gathered from the four months working there was that there were a lot of pretty girls who entered the coffee shop — most of which were focused on the angry ash-blond friend of his — and that it was so unnecessarily stressful.

Some days he was up at four in the morning to open at six for the morning regulars, then he’d go to his afternoon classes, only to return for a two-hour shift in the middle of rush hour, and would leave while trying to keep the peace between a certain ash-blond and two new hires. To say the least, it was hell on Earth at times.

Regardless, he didn’t have to open tomorrow morning, so he was content! On top of not having classes tomorrow, Kirishima was excited to sleep in.

Falling on his bed with a massive sigh, Kirishima snuggled his face into his pillow, rejoicing in the way that the laundry detergent still clung to the fabric and relaxed.

Sleep sounded so—

RIIING.

Kirishima’s eyes slammed open, his head snapping to see his illuminating phone on his nightstand. He had no idea who the hell was calling this late. There was no way it was Bakugou; he was asleep already at this point. Sero had broken his phone two days ago during a failed stunt and wouldn’t be able to get a new phone until the weekend. Kaminari only called him when there was a bug in his apartment, but he was currently closing… maybe it was Mina? Kirishima shook his head, no, he hadn’t spoken to Mina in ages.

Grabbing the phone, he didn’t bother to look at the caller ID and answered.

“Hello—?”

“Oh my god, I am fucking raging! You can’t believe what kind of fuckery I just went through tonight!” a voice shouted into the receiver, and Kirishima flinched a bit at the loud and angry voice. “So you know how I wasn’t supposed to work today, right? Because my coworker had sex with her ex-boyfriend like an idiot, and I owed her for covering my shift three months ago, but anyways irrelevant. I’m taking the order of this one group of adults. That’s right, A-D-U-L-T-S, adults! They are completely staring at my tits the entire time, and not my face. At first, I thought maybe you know, I had spilled something on my tits earlier, no. No! NOTHING! So I call them out on it, and they say something along the lines of ‘you could be a camgirl with that body, but like not in a sex sort of way’ I’m sorry, WHAT?! Like yes, continue sexually harassing your server who is a college student and therefore has no will to live, so will gladly beat your Gucci belt wearing ass into a bloody pulp! What they gonna do? Sue me? I have one dollar to my name, fucking take it, I don’t care, I’ll find another dollar in the sewer after I beat their asses up!

“But you know, I’m saying all this in my head because I’m broke and can’t afford to be fired from this place because the tips are hella good here. But they continue saying dumb shit, and then the obvious ringleader — I know he was the ring leader because his beard looks like it was the first picture printed on a new ink cartridge and his manspread was ten times wider than all of theirs — have the fucking audacity to slip his number while only tipping TEN DOLLARS ON A TWO HUNDRED DOLLAR TAB!!!!” Kirishima doesn’t know what to say, his jaw on his mattress, breathing having stopped while your voice wheezes from your lack of air. He makes a croaking noise, wanting to speak up and apologize for what had happened and for not being the person you thought it was, but it seemed that you weren’t over. “AND DON’T GET ME STARTED ON THAT FUCKING KAREN!!! ‘I didn’t like the way you looked at me so I won’t be tipping you tonight!’ yeah, well maybe if you didn’t order enough FOOD TO FEED AN ARMY AND KEPT SENDING IT BACK I WOULDN’T BE LOOKING AT YOU LIKE THAT!!!”

There was a pause, and Kirishima, while feeling entirely sorry for you, finally spoke, “Fuck, that sounds... horrible.”

“Damn right, it was horri— wait, who the fuck is this?” your voice squeaked, and Kirishima almost started to laugh at the difference in the tone your voice took. Once so loud, angry, and entirely ‘fuck the world,’ had changed into a meek and embarrassed voice.

“Um, this is Kirishima. Kirishima Eijiriou?”

“This isn’t Hagakure?” you moaned into the phone. “03-9082-2395? That isn’t this number?”

“2-2-9-5,” Kirishima repeated his own number back, a small smile overcame his features knowing that you had accidentally misdialed a number.

“Fuck my fat fingers,” you cursed, and Kirishima chuckled lightly at the mutterings that were poorly picked up. “Well, um, I am so sorry for calling you and dumping that unnecessary bullshit on you—”

“No, no,” Kirishima interrupted, rolling onto his back, staring up at the dimly lit ceiling. “It’s totally okay! You seem less stressed out now too, and it really isn’t a big deal!”

“You are very kind, Kirishima Eijirou,” you laugh, and Kirishima can’t help but imagine a figure curled up on a couch.

“Thank you!” he beamed, a hand threading through his hair, “um, but what happened with the Karen? And why were you typing in your friend’s phone number?”

“Do you really want to know?” you ask after a fit of bubbling laughter; it seemed that you were not at all convinced.

“I work at a coffee shop for one, so I totally understand the Karen situations! Secondly, all my contacts are on my phone, I don’t have a single one of them memorized!”

“Okay, okay, okay, I do not have this number memorized! Hagakure is my roommate, and she has a new number that she left posted on our fridge and because Mr. Sprinkles left in the middle of my rant, I called her to finish it!” you explain in what Kirishima could only consider being childlike glee. “And a coffee shop? Oof, Kirishima, you might have it just as bad as I do then.”

“Ever had a boiling cup of coffee thrown back at your face?”

“Shut. Up.”

“I wish I was joking!”

“The nastiest thing I’ve ever been put through is a highschool couple breaking up in the middle of the restaurant, and a bowl of cold soup and milkshake were thrown at me! And I had to work for another five hours!”

“That… that beat mine by a long shot…”

“Okay, but like, it was cold. If you hadn’t dodged, you’d be dead!”

As time passed Kirishima soon found himself sitting up on his bed, his back pressed against the headboard, a lamp on so that he wasn’t in the dark while he talked to you. Somehow conversation flowed so perfectly between the two of you, so smoothly, so naturally. You had extremely compelling energy and a pretty bright one at that as well. Your stories were exceedingly extravagant, most derailing into hundreds of side stories before making its way back to the main point, but he didn’t mind. Though there was no proof, he imagined that your arms were swinging around while you talked, a bright smile on your face, and lights shining in your eyes.

“So anyway, I had to beg my professor to let me remake this exam because, for some reason, my brain would not switch back to Japanese. I almost cried because I was only speaking in English, and I think because I am an amazing person, my professor let me do that!” you laughed after explaining an issue with being fluent in a third language.

“My English skills deteriorated after leaving high school, I’m rather jealous you can speak three languages,” Kirishima admitted, his head falling back onto the cold wall. “My Japanese professors probably think my Japanese sucks too.”

“Just because I am amazing and can speak three languages doesn’t mean I’m perfect at it,” you laugh, obviously trying to make him feel better about himself.

“Mm, I don’t know, you’re painting yourself as a pretty perfect person,” Kirishima sighed. “Or you have an enormous ego…”

A loud scoff came from your end of the phone, and Kirishima waited for your verbal retaliation but was met with a moment of silence.

“Oh! Welcome home!” you called out, and Kirishima quickly put together that your roommate Hagakure was home. “Yeah, no, I’m talking to someone right now! ...who? Oh, um, a friend! ...no, I tried to call you when I got home but misdialed your number and got him instead! NO! You’re not going to get a pic of him! Wait, it’s what time?!”

Kirishima’s eyes fell over to his alarm clock and saw in the dim red light that it was 04:57.

His jaw dropped.

“Well, um, Kirishima, it seems that our call is going to end,” you whisper into the phone, and Kirishima lets out a breathless chuckle, sudden sleepiness creeping into him. “It was pretty fun chatting with you stranger, thanks for putting up with that ranting in the beginning! Most normal people wouldn’t have picked up or let me rant like that!”

“It’s no problem,” Kirishima smiled softly, his fingers stretching out to turn off the light. He licked his lips, five hours on a phone call with an absolute stranger, and he didn’t have your name, and better yet, a part of him wanted to ask if it was okay to be friends. You were magnetic to him, and he wanted to know more about you, even if this was this weird modern and accidental penpal thing. “I didn’t have anything to do today, and you were fun talking to!”

“Aww, thank you!”

Silence.

Ask, he thought, his teeth biting down onto his bottom lip. Ask!

“Um, I know this is weird and all, but do you think I can keep your number?” you ask, your voice almost timid and meek.

Kirishima’s heart rate spikes at those words, he very much wanted that, but his mouth had a mind of its own it seemed. “Why?”

“Wha— well, I just had a lot of fun talking with you! It was fun, and I don’t know, you seem like a pretty chill guy!”

His fingers gripped his phone, a warmth spreading through him when he relaxed under his sheets. “On one condition.”

“Oof, if you’re going to ask to decide between Crimson Riot or All Might you’re going to be—”

“No, no,” Kirishima lets out a snort, his shoulders rolling while he imagines the curious look coming over your face. “I would like to know your name?”

“My name? Why would you want— HOLY SHIT! I never gave you—” there was a loud noise on your end of the call, and Kirishima heard you apologize profusely before returning in a hushed whisper. “Sorry! Sorry! I didn’t give you my name?!”

“No,” he laughed loudly, one that was pushed from his belly, spreading warmth through his body. “You never did, but I did learn every name of every person you’ve ever talked with!”

“God,” you groan, a small whine emitted from you. “I’m an idiot, I’m so sorry! Y/l/n y/n at your service!”

Y/l/n y/n, that’s a pretty name, he thought while imagining just what you could look like.

“Well, goodnight y/l/n, I’ll save your number, and we’ll see if you still would like to be friends when you wake up?”

There was a small noise of agreement, “I’m like a drug, Kirishima, you’ll be back for more.”

“Okay, okay, goodnight…”

“Goodnight, sweet dreams!”

“Sweet dreams.”

Kirishima listened to the line ending, and he pulled his phone away from his ear and no sooner did he do that, a text came in at what he believed to be your number:

don’t let the bed bugs bite! 🕷😱‼️

He snorted and replied back before eventually letting sleep consume him.

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“You’ll never believe what just happened!” you squealed into the phone, and Kirishima laughed while wiping his sweaty face with a white towel. You had called thirty minutes earlier than usual and had caught him leaving the gym.

It had been a bit over two months since your misdial, and things with you had been going pretty well for strangers. The two of you didn’t talk every day, most weeks going by with just a single call, but they were always delightful talks. You worked most nights, and he most mornings, the two of you discovered. So most calls took place the night he didn’t have to work the following morning.

“You got a customer who complained that there was too much salt in their meal that had no salt in it?” he asked, pulling a random story of something that had happened at his own coffee shop today. You let out an amused snort, a clear indicator that he was wrong, but found his guess to be amusing at the very least.

“No, but oddly enough, someone did ask for an insane amount of salt on their food and hated it!” you sang, clearly happy with how you found their distress to be funny.

“Close enough!” Kirishima laughed, but he was straight out of guesses, so he stopped. “So, what happened?”

“I tried coffee for the first time ever today!” you squealed loudly, and Kirishima cheered happily.

Through these two months, there were some hard facts that Kirishima had learned about you. One, you were living in the same city as him. Two, you worked at a semi-classy restaurant. Three, you had two roommates named Hagakure and Jirou. Four, you were twenty, just like him. And five, you were a child who only drank hot chocolate and tea because you were afraid of coffee.

“Caffeine is a drug you know,” you had snarkily teased him one night when he said he was going to make a cup of coffee. “Nice to know I’m friends with an addict!”

“If drugs were as amazing as coffee, I’d be an addict!”

“You know…” your voice whispered, your voice suddenly taking a guilty approach. “I’ve never actually tried coffee…”

“WHAT?!”

“Wow, look at you, becoming an old woman in front of my own eyes!” Kirishima chuckled, starting his walk back home.

His fingers pushed the headphones to be more secure over his ears, hopeful that there it wouldn’t pick up too heavily on the wind of the outside world.

“To be honest, it wasn’t that good, your taste buds are just tarnished from drinking that bitter crap all day!” you huff and he half imagined you turning your nose up.

“Okay, okay,” Kirishima laughed, a warmth flooding in his chest at the sounds of your muffled laughter. A visible indicator that you were also amused at this. “I hated coffee until I started working at a coffee shop, and that was because I needed to know my shit.”

“Wow, you only got that job while not being a coffee addict?” you tease. “Seems like a fake barista to me.”

“It’s pretty hard to believe, I know,” Kirishima stated his tone one of fake melancholy. “I’m so sorry for deceiving you, and honestly, I am a shit barista.”

“Aww, don’t say that!” you exclaim, and it seems like you’re ready to fight him. “I bet you put all those fancy TikTok baristas to shame!”

“TikTok?” he laughed, his pace speeding up just a bit so he would get home faster. “Wow, I am honored you think that!”

The light conversation continued, nothing too deep or too intense, just chatter about today's shifts and classes. Eventually, Kirishima made it back into his apartment complex, and stumbled into his room, collapsing onto his bed.

“Can I ask something?” you ask suddenly, and Kirishima lets out a small hum.

“Yeah, of course, what’s up?”

“What do you look like?” you asked softly as if you were curled up in bed, seconds from letting sleep consume you. “I haven’t come up with a mental image that I like, and well, I want some hints.”

“I can just send you a picture of me,” Kirishima smiles, his eyes closing. “It would be much easier than me trying to explain to you what I look like.”

“No!” you disagree, and there's a long sigh from your end of the phone. “I’m not ready for that kind of information yet, Kiri. I just… I can’t accept a pic of you without sending one back, and I’m not mentally ready for that yet…”

“Don’t tell me the big fat Gucci bougie you is shy?!” Kirishima exclaimed, humor drowning his words as he referenced you to something you had called yourself one drunken night weeks ago.

“Not shy!” you bemoan, your voice muffling out at the end of it. “I’m more scared you’ll find me ugly and ghost me…”

“I don’t think that’s possible,” Kirishima interjected, his voice stable and confident.

“Which part?”

“Both parts.”

“How do you know that? You don’t know what I look like…”

“...call it… Kirishima’s intuition,” Kirishima slowly stated, his eyebrows furrowing. “I find your voice and your personality to be attractive on their own, so I would never ghost you. And of course, appearance isn’t anything; plus, there’s no way you’re not gorgeous.”

He says these words with honest truth, and a part of him fears he overstepped and made you wildly uncomfortable with the amount of silence that is heard from your end of the line. But finally, as Kirishima is ready to apologize to you, a soft exhale is heard.

“You’re a dork,” you whisper, and a soft grin spreads on his own face. “Anyways, I’ll ask questions, you answer them first, and then I’ll do the same.”

“Sounds good!”

“Hair color?”

“Black, but I dye it red.”

“Mm, edgy teenager, I like it, and also knew that because you complained about your stained sheets! Eye color?”

“Red.”

“Oh, am I sensing a theme? How tall are you?”

“I’m… a bit over six feet?”

The list went on, most questions becoming more of a joke than anything else, but he was glad that you were asking these things because now he had an insight on how you looked too. You had told him your eye color, your hair color, how tall you were, and a whole bunch of trivial things he would have never thought to ask about to begin with.

“Okay, last question!” you cheered, happy to have finally included Kirishima into your inside joke that revolved around your eyebrows. “Do you have any distinguishing features?”

“Well, I don’t actually...” Kirishima admitted, his fingers brushing against the scar on his eye, and then it hit him. That was one! “Oh, wait—” CRASH. A loud crashing noise emitted from your side of the call.

“Shit, hold on!” you curse and Kirishima can only remain silent while he hears you yelling in the background, it was too far away for him to quite understand, but it was enough to know that it didn’t sound okay.

Kirishima sat on his side of the call, the phone pressed to his ear while he tried to strip his gross and sweaty shirt from his body. His teeth bit into his lip, his canine pressing into the permanent indent of his lip, an indicator of how anxious he used to be.

“Fuck, Kiri?” your voice suddenly snapped back onto the call, your tone frantic and quick.

“Everything okay?”

“No, Hagakure showed up drunker than… a drunken drunk, I don’t know expressions, ANYWAYS I know tonight is our unofficial official call night, but anyway I can get a rain check?”

There was guilt that swallowed your voice, a pang of guilt that made Kirishima warm a bit because it showed that you valued these calls, just like him.

“Of course, I don’t have class or work Friday morning this time around, so Thursday night?”

“That works perfectly,” you sigh, gratitude. “I owe you, text you later if you don’t fall asleep! Goodnight, sweet dreams, love ya!”

Kirishima couldn’t repeat the whole statement before you hastily hung up, but he couldn’t keep the smile off his face the entire time he showered. The shower didn’t take too long, and by the time he emerged from the shower, towel around his neck and his waist, he had a text message.

sero - hey bro!!! i can’t pick up my morning shift tomorrow i know you have tonight to speak w y/n but todoroki and bakugou can’t cover it!

Kirishima sighed, he definitely didn’t have anything tomorrow anyways, he could manage with going in for an extra shift to help a friend.

kirishima - yeah sure what time?

sero - youre a life saver T-T im covering 8 am - 3 pm!!!

Kirishima sent a simple affirmative emoji before finishing up his nightly routine.

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Kirishima looked at his apron while he was assembling himself in the backroom. The aroma of roasted coffee beans and pastries was almost pungent in the back, and he was eager to get out of there. As per employee regulations, he was to wear a black apron, a name tag, and something to hold his hair because it was a bit too long, for that, he wore a white bandana around his forehead.

“Wait, where’s my name tag?” Kirishima called out, his eyebrows furrowing when he turned out to Kaminari, who was currently in the back with him.

The blond froze and scratched the back of his neck, laughing awkwardly, “About that…”

So Kirishima was in the front of the store with a shiny silver name tag that read Hanta Sero. Because Kaminari was the best barista they had on hand currently, he was busy teaching Midoriya — their newest hire — around the bar. For now, Todoroki was nowhere to be found, and Kirishima was handling the cash register.

Today was a slow morning, most people had their day off today, so morning coffee rush wasn’t in existence. Sure, there were a few outliers, but it was never chaotic.

The gentle bell of the front door rang, and Kirishima automatically called out.

“Welcome!”

You had walked into the store, your eyebrows furrowed while you prayed that this was the coffee shop your roommates had been raving about. You’d never been here before, but it was the closest coffee shop available that wasn’t something generic and basic like Starbucks. You looked up from your phone at the voice, a thank you automatically being repeated while you neared the register.

You froze when you saw the red hair and the red eyes of the handsome man at the register. A careless thought entered your mind, Kirishima said he had red hair and red eyes… but he said he didn’t work today…

A kind smile sat on his face, his eyes taking you in, waiting for you to approach him.

This couldn’t be him, right?

The last time you had assumed a redhead working in a coffee shop was Kirishima, it had ended embarrassingly.

“Um, hi,” you drawled out, your eyes reading the board to figure out your own order.

Kirishima couldn’t keep his eyes off of you, you were exactly what you had described to him, but he wouldn’t ask until he was sure. He would ask you for your name after collecting your order for either tea or hot chocolate, and if it was you, he’d reveal that he was Kirishima. But he didn’t want to be wrong; he didn’t want to pin any other person as you, after all.

“I’ve never been here before,” you confess, your hand rubbing the back of your head. You were transfixed on the caramel macchiato that was spelled in the prettiest font, though, plus Hagakure promised all their coffee was good.

“Oh, well, welcome! If you need any recommendations or have anything else to order, I can put those through while you look?”

His smile was kind, and you felt blood rush to your face, something you desperately tried to fight off by thinking of anything you didn’t like.

“Oh! I do have two orders, though! There’s going to be one chai tea latte with three pumps of vanilla, and a lavender tea with a splash of oat milk.”

Kirishima nodded his head, “Will this be for here, or to go?”

His voice sounds so similar to Kirishima, you hoped, studying his face. While you answered that it was to go, you saw a distinctive scar on his right eye. Kirishima had said he didn’t have any distinguishing features…

“What are your favorites here?” you ask, your eyebrows scrunched in confusion, your thoughts very evident in your face.

Kirishima couldn’t help but find hope bubbling up in his chest, there was always the possibility that you two lived in the same city-based off the same area code, and with what seemed like an incomplete knowledge in coffee, maybe…

Kirishima rambled off about the different seasonal drinks right now, his recommendations leaning towards the teas and non-coffee things primarily after his general and basic list. You seemed to take every word out of his lip like gospel, agreeing and nodding when appropriate, and his lips stretched into a grin when you bluntly exclaimed your ill knowledge of this all.

“To be honest, I only step into coffee shops to take a cute pic and then leave,” you laugh, pressing your hands against your lips and screaming a bit in your throat.

Kirishima laughed, more confidence blooming through his body over the hope that this was you. It had to be you.

Your eyes then found the nametag on his apron, and like a sinking ship, you read Sero.

Not Kirishima.

“And for you?”

“I’ll have the caramel macchiato,” you decide, a grateful smile on your face while he looks down and writes the orders.

“A name?”

“Penny,” came your automatic response.

You never used your real name in coffee shops.

Kirishima suppressed the way that his mouth wanted to drop into a sad smile, and like two rejected teenagers, the money was exchanged. Before Kirishima could attempt to calm his disappointed soul, you walked out of the shop with the coffees and tea in hand.

“What was that about?” Kaminari asked, his eyes wide. “There was so much flirting and then poof, gone from both sides. Come on, dude, it’s my job to fail at flirting, not yours!”

Kirishima laughed, ignoring the way that his three friends looked at him with concern and curiosity. “Nothing, I just… the customer looked like how y/n described herself to be…”

“Oh… sorry, bro.”

“Nah, it’s all good,” Kirishima waved it off, and without so much as another slap on the back, he went back to work.

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

“What the hell are you doing?”

Kirishima looked up from his phone, his fingers mid-type pausing only for a millisecond before continuing to text blindly.

“Oh, hey, Bakubro, what’s up?” he cheerfully spoke, ignorant to the controller in the ash blond’s hand.

“It’s your turn, shitty hair, pay fucking attention!” Bakugou barked, tossing the plastic controller into his chest. Kirishima grunted, the feeling of the plastic slamming against his chest was less than ideal, but the smile on his face didn’t waiver while he offered his best friend the controller back.

“It’s all good, you can have another turn, I can handle being out this round!”

“Kiri, that’s six rounds in a row,” Kaminari spoke up, his face in a teasing smirk.

It was then that Kirishima’s face turned approximately the same color as his hair. “I didn’t—”

“Awww, Eijirou has a little crush on y/n!!!” Kaminari sang, resulting in agreeing with noises from Sero and Midoriya. Only Bakugou and Todoroki remained silent.

Kirishima only laughed, he knew he couldn’t deny that fact, but he wouldn’t say it aloud — especially because Bakugou seemed to hate you. It had been now four months since the two of you had ‘meet,’ and while he still had no face to imagine you with, things had taken a slightly flirty route between the two of you.

Calls were much more frequent, nearly all nights the two of you would speak, even if it was just a measly summary of the day and a ‘sweet dreams’ and a ‘goodnight’ and an ‘I love you.’ It always happened nowadays.

Tonight was an exception, of course, because he was out with his friends, and apparently, you were doing the same.

“You can’t be fucking serious?” Bakugou spat, a laugh spluttering from his lips, but it was cold and held no humor. “You caught feelings for a person who’s too much of a fucking coward to reveal a picture of themselves?”

“That’s not fair; besides, it's not about physical appearance!” Kirishima waved him off, pressing send to his text message.

have fun tonight! text me when u get back home if ur able to!

“Just how naive can you be?” Bakugou sneered, his hand taking the phone from Kirishima's side. “Six months of talking every week, texting every day, and this y/n still hasn’t trusted you with a single picture of them? I know you said that she told you how she looked, and all that shit, but let's be real, it’s so easy to lie about how you look like when you don’t have to provide a picture. What y/n say? Big tits? Big ass? Small waist? What about her did she say that made you so fucking insane over her?”

“N-Nothing! We didn’t talk about our body types!” Kirishima’s eyes widened significantly, the once comfortable atmosphere of the room wholly gone while Bakugou’s vermillion eyes seethed silently. “None of that matters! I told you the truth! I like y/n because of her personality, she’s manly, and I like that a lot! It’s not about her appearance, how pessimistic can you get, bro! I promise you, she’s trustworthy!”

“Is she really?”

“What?”

“How can you be in love with someone who you trust entirely, but doesn’t trust you at all? You said that y/n won’t show you a picture of herself because she’s scared you won’t like her? How is that trusting you? How is that fucking fair? To me, that sounds like some fucked up catfishing thing.”

“We talk on the phone, dude,” Kirishima said softly, but those thoughts were invading his mind. Did you not trust him? He knew he wasn’t the best option in the world, and he had accepted that in time and by improving on what he thought he was best at. But did you, after all this time, really not believe him when he claimed nothing would change when he saw you? “Catfishes don’t even do that… besides, the first call was by accident, why would someone—”

“Dunce face, what’s that one fucking idiotic thing you do for fun?” Bakugou snapped at the blond, not even bothering to look at him.

“Well, there’s a lot of things I do that you—” Kaminari laughed awkwardly, his smile tight and awkward.

“Kaminari.”

“I call… random numbers… pretending to have a big issue to see how they react…” he admitted, and Kirishima’s stomach clenched.

“And?” Bakugou snarled.

“I pretend to be a girl…”

“Don’t be stupid, Bakugou, this is more than one time!” Kirishima groaned.

“It's a voice that you can’t attach a face to, who knows if this is a person you can trust! People with voice acting exist in this world, how the hell do you possibly know that they’re not one of them?! Be fucking real, if ‘y/n’ trusted you, if that’s even their name, they wouldn’t be hiding their face from you.”

Kirishima didn’t say anything else, the acid piling in his throat was too much for him to even look at his friend. The night didn’t really recover from that conversation, and Kirishima eventually found himself back home.

He sat at the edge of his bed, his phone in his hands, waiting for a message from you. He couldn’t sleep, and even though he had work tomorrow morning, he found himself wide awake, unable to let sleep consume.

It was three in the morning when you sent a text, his eyes still wide awake, and with shaky fingers, he read the message.

i just got home can you believe that i drank three cups of wine and didnt get tipsy??????? thats on being a raging alcoholic ;D

Kirishima wanted to laugh; on god, he would’ve found this beyond delightful to read because he knew you couldn’t handle your liquor, but that bitter stream of acid destroyed the humor in his thoughts.

Were you really telling the truth? Was this all a lie?

He didn’t text back; instead, his finger pressed the call button, and he held his breath.

“Helloooo?” a voice picked up on the second ring, but it wasn’t your voice. It was a voice he didn’t recognize at all.

‘Voice actors,’ Bakugou’s voice reentered his thoughts, and the phone in his hand nearly dropped.

“Sorry, hello?” the voice he knew as you finally came through, and Kirishima let out a shallow breath, one so small, so mediocrely weak it burned his lungs.

“Do you trust me?” he asked softly, maybe too softly because you asked with a strained laugh for him to repeat his words. “Do you trust me, y/n?”

There was a pause on your end, too long a beat for Kirishima to be comfortable with.

“Of course I trust you, Ei, are you okay?”

“Do you actually trust me, or are you lying?”

“Woah there,” you said a small laugh on your tongue, but there was only confusion in it, not your contagious sound. “Did you drink? It’s a work night, you never do that!”

“Answer the question,” Kirishima spoke with finality, his shoulders tense, tears pushing past his eyes while he struggled to maintain composure.

Prove Bakugou wrong, please, prove Bakugou wrong.

“Of course I do,” you spoke with genuine clarity, but still, Kirishima was rattled, his confidence blown. “What’s going on?”

Did he want to confess to his insecurities? Was it worth it? His breathing became frantic, almost as if he was going insane just thinking about where his thoughts were. But Kirishima was never good at hiding things, no he was as open as a book.

“Why won’t you let me see you… we’ve been friends for six months, and the only thing I know about you is your eye color and your hair color. It’s so insanely generic that I can’t… I can’t do this.”

“What are you trying to say?” you ask, your voice small, almost a whisper of all the energy one could have at this time of night.

“I can’t be friends with someone who doesn’t trust me, who’s using me,” he spoke with perfect clarity that hid away his insecurities about this all. “For all, I know nothing about you is real, that this is all just some ploy to hurt me in the end. Six months and you can’t trust me with a single meet up or even a picture? I just… has this been a game for you, y/n? Or is that even your name.”

The call ended and a single message held on his screen, this call has been dropped, but you didn’t seem to want to call him back.

Kirishima didn’t sleep a wink that night, his words coming back to bite him in the throat each and every time he thought he was close enough to sleep. Insecurities riled up in him, consuming him entirely.

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

He tried to call back.

For fourteen straight days, Kirishima attempted to call you back.

Every time he called you, he would always hang up before he could take back his words. But each call, after he had prematurely hung up, he would recant his mean words to the unresponsive phone. He did trust you, he was weak, he was unmanly to assume those things. You could take, however long it took to finally trust him again because he would wait for you no matter what. He apologized again and again until the very last one he broke down into silent tears, a single message of ‘I hope one day you’ll forgive me’ hung weakly on his voice and put his phone away.

It was sixteen days since he had spoken those cruel words to you, and in that time, he didn’t regret finally talking about his ill feelings towards wanting to reveal yourself to him. But he did regret the way it came out; instead of it being a deep and personal conversation, it came out as bitter and one-sided. The two of you were disconnected, and he felt empty.

But he couldn’t focus on it, not today, after all, it was Bakugou’s birthday, and everyone was gathering at the local fancy restaurant to celebrate.

Kirishima dressed up presentable, wearing a navy blue button-up, and dark slacks. He walked towards the entrance of the restaurant where Kaminari, Sero, and Midoriya were eagerly leading the group of them into the building. Typically Kirishima would’ve been with them in terms of spirit, but he felt energyless at the moment.

With the moon high in the sky, Kirishima stilled when Bakugou called out his name.

He stared at his best friend, the ash blond’s lip curled into a sneer while he huffed, “Listen, Kirishima, I’m sorry for what I said that night.”

“What? Oh, no, it’s okay, Bakugou!” Kirishima laughed, his hand slapping to the back of his neck. “You weren’t wrong.”

“I never said I was wrong,” Bakugou grunted, his eyes locked on Kirishima’s while he shoved his hands into his pockets. Kirishima stilled, unsure as to where this would be leading. “I just don’t want you to get hurt. I know that Mina hurt you badly, and you’re too big of an idiot to not see when things arise. Maybe y/n is genuine, but if you aren’t fucking honest with her about your own feelings about how she’s so secretive, it’s not going to work.”

Kirishima smiled softly, a weak shrug moving through him, “I know, thanks, man.”

Bakugou nodded, and without a word, he continued on ahead where Midoriya was yelling at them to hurry up and come so they could be seated.

Kirishima sighed, rolling out his shoulders before following afterward.

Kirishima followed after the hostess, smiling at her gratefully when she sat the group into their own private room and left.

“Bakugou’s paying, right?” Kaminari stage whispered to Midoriya while staring at the prices on the menu.

“Eat shit, dunce face, learn how to save up your fucking money the next time you offer to come to this fucking place!” Bakugou roared, hearing the whisper.

“I’ll be covering the bill,” Todoroki informed with a smirk on his face. Kirishima laughed, looking at the prices and indeed agreeing with Kaminari’s statement. Having a wealthy friend was very convenient at times like this.

“Hi, welcome to Eiko, I’ll be your waitress today!” a voice chirped from the entrance of the room, and Kirishima froze, he recognized that voice and face.

It was the person he had mistaken for you all those months ago.

By the smile on your face, it seemed that you recognized them all too.

“And what is your name,” Sero winked, his eyes captivated by you.

“Oh, haha, sorry, my name is y/n,” you smiled, moving the menus you held in your hand to show the silver nametag on your uniform.

“Oh, like Kirishima’s y/n,” Kaminari laughed, pointing a finger at Kirishima, not at all being as quiet as he probably thought himself to be. But it seemed that he wasn’t the only one who thought that because while Kirishima was staring at your face, embarrassingly taking you in, you followed Kaminari’s finger.

Your sight sat on the redhead in the middle whose name was Kirishima, and you straightened up in what felt like panic.

“You’re Kirishima?” you asked quietly, your finger grasping the menus so tightly, your knuckles turned white. “Kirishima Eijirou.”

“The one and only,” Kaminari voiced for him, his arm thrown over Kirishima’s shoulder while he nodded like a scholar. “And why do you ask?”

“Shut the fuck up, dunce face.” Bakugou hissed.

Kirishima continued to stare at you, a million words running through his head, yet not a single one being translated on his tongue. You were beautiful.

What should he say?

What could he say?

Your lips pursed, and you shook your head, a smile of disbelief spreading across your face, “Unbelievable.”

“Y/n—”

“Be quiet,” you snap, your tone angry, but your eyes beyond hurt. “What can I get you guys to drink?”

Dinner wasn’t exactly a pleasant time, you came in and left faster than anyone could blink, and yet none of their drinks went empty, nor did they really have a problem. Much quicker than Kirishima would’ve liked, they were done and were soon piling out of the restaurant after Kirishima decided to leave a very, very generous tip.

“I’m going to stay until I can speak to y/n,” Kirishima said, waving off his friends who were expecting him to follow. But he couldn’t, not when he felt like the world's biggest ass for what he did to you.

“Good luck,” they all wished him well before eventually leaving, knowing better than to stick around.

So there at the outside bench, Kirishima waited.

Two hours he sat there until you emerged from the front door, your hair was no longer put back, you held your apron in your hand, and your purse on your shoulder.

“Y/n!” he called out, his feet no longer cemented into place; he strode after you.

You didn’t seem to pick up the pace, nor did you slow down. You were focused on your car that sat at the edge of the parking lot, and you ignored his calls.

It wasn’t until his hand touched your shoulder, and he appeared before you did Kirishima freeze again. Angry hot tears slid down your face, your face screwed up, your shoulders stiff.

“What do you want, Kirishima?” you spat, but there was only exhaustion in your voice, nothing bitter, nothing at all what Kirishima deserved from you.

“I want to apologize,” Kirishima whispered, his hands struggling to reach out and wipe your tears away. You were crying because of him, he did this to you. “I was a dick, I was… beyond unmanly to you, and I’m so sorry! I just let Bakugou get into my head, and I’ve never been a secure person because, well, I’m just… fuck, I don’t even know, but all I know is that you didn’t deserve this. And I like you so much, but I didn’t — I don’t know what to do?!”

Your eyes stared up at him, they were bright with tears, wounded beyond anything Kirishima could hope to fix.

“That night, you said if I didn’t trust you, but I did trust you! I’ve always trusted you—” your finger jabbed his chest— “but it was you who didn’t trust me! I get that it’s hard to not have a picture of someone you care about after a long length of time, but we were always fine for a while! It was going to happen, but while I trusted you, I didn’t trust myself, okay?! I couldn’t trust myself to see that if you were so much more handsome than me that I couldn’t be confident enough to let myself be friends with you! I constantly fuck up relationships when I have crushes on people because… I don’t know, I just do! But you were someone with no risk and the highest risk, and I wanted to be sure in my own feelings before giving you a picture of me! But… fuck, Kirishima, you didn’t trust me!”

Kirishima’s throat tightened, the tears on your face a guilty reminder that this was because of him. But how could he fix this?

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his hands grabbing onto your arms just above the elbow, and his head hung by your forehead, not quite touching you, but just enough that his spiked hair teased the atoms between you. You were taller than he expected, but it wasn’t anything he couldn’t deal with, no, not at all. “You’re right, I didn’t trust you, and you didn’t deserve that. I don’t think there’s anything that I can say, or do for that matter, to change your mind, and I’m sorry. I just panicked because who gets into this type of situation, how do I tell my phone friend that I have feelings for her? I was weak, and I am so fucking pathetic, and I just want to make things better. If you’ll let me be your friend again…”

He slowly looked back up at you, and you were frozen in your place, tears falling down your face still.

“I don’t think we can be friends,” you confessed, and Kirishima’s heart broke in two, his hands dropping from your arms in his embarrassment and humiliation.

“Oh, well, I’m sorry still, um… maybe I’ll see you again?” Kirishima smiled despite it all, he kept smiling despite the crack in his chest and his soul.

“You will,” you murmured, and before Kirishima could blink, your fists wrapped in his collar, and you brought him down for an ardent kiss that he was not quick to respond to. It took three seconds for him to wrap his arms around your waist and pull you in, kissing you again and again and again.

It didn’t seem to matter to either one of you that you were both now kissing without a care in the world in the middle of a parking lot, because you both had your emotions exposed to the other, and you didn’t want to be friends. At least not when the man who held your heart confessed that you held his in yours.

The two of you weren’t truly disconnected, it was just a little lost moment in your call.

#kirishima x reader #kirishima eijiro x reader #bnha #bnha x reader #mha x reader

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descendantofthesparrow · 3 years

Text

Interlude - Rewrite - POYW- Harry Hook x reader - Part 1 - New beginnings

*felt like doing an episode entrance to this so deal with it*

-a shot of the isle pans across the screen with Descendants™ background music playing, before turning and panning across the ocean towards Auradon. It cuts to the dorms and fades into Evie and Mal's room, where Evie is shifting through a tall stack of papers.-

Evie turned her face towards her door as it suddenly opened and Mal stepped in “hey E, still at it?” Mal dropped her (Ben’s) letterman jacket on her bed and sat across from Evie, leaning over in the chair to take a look at the papers Evie was working on.

“yep” Evie let out a small sigh, giving Mal a small smile before looking back at the papers “I still can't believe Ben had to go through all of this just to get us six over, half of it is guardian responsibility shit”

Mal quirked her brow at that and reached out towards Evie, doing the ‘gimme’ motion. Evie handed her six sheets of paper, the front one reading;

'Application of guardianship

Child; Jay - parent; Jafar

Guardian applicant - Aladdin’

the rest of the paper was just info and numbers, all of which Mal didn’t bother to read. she set the paper down and continued to read.

'Application of guardianship

Child; Gil - parent; Gaston

Guardian applicant - Eugene Fitzherbert’

Evie took Jay's paper and set it down beside her, taking Gil’s as Mal set it down a moment later.

'Application of guardianship

Child; Evie - parent; Evil Queen aka. Queen Grimhilde

Guardian applicant - Ella Charming’

“who’s Ella?” Mal asked aloud, setting the paper on top of Evie's new pile and looking back at the last three.

“Cinderella” Evie answered lightly, grabbing her pen and crossing out a couple of lines on her paper “that’s why she was on our side during family day, I guess she already knew who we were”

“and here I thought it was because she knew what we went through” Mal snorted, drawing her thumb against her name on the paper.

'Application of guardianship

Child; Mal - parent; Maleficent

Guardian applicant - Megara’

Mal quirked her brow again, turning the papers towards Evie and pointing at the guardian’s name “who’s Megara?”

Evie took a quick glance and shrugged “no clue” Mal shrugged back and set the paper on the pile.

'Application of guardianship

Child; Carlos De’vil - parent; Cruella De’vil

Guardian applicant - Anita Radcliffe’

Mal let out a small hum at that, so the person who Carlos’ mother had hurt, had decided to be the guardian of Carlos?...cool, she knew that there were heroes that didn’t judge them for their parent's decisions but it was nice to know that some of those who had been directly affected held no bad blood against them.

'Application of guardianship

Child; Harry Hook - parent; James Hook

Guardian applicant - Wendy Darling’

“huh” Mal snorted, setting the last paper on the pile, which Evie grabbed and straightened it and set it on her other side with the other read-through papers “Wendy Darling is Harry's guardian” Evie smiled at that.

“aw, cute…” then she snorted “I’m sorry the image of Harry wearing a baby blue sleep dress with a big pink bow on his head just came to mind” Mal covered her mouth and her forehead hit the desk as her body shook with laughter “I’m sorry” Evie giggled, leaning back in her chair and covering her eyes. “ahhh It won't leave~!”

“noooo Evie that’s going to be stuck in my head for like a month how dare you!” Mal screeched, lifting her head and reaching out to gently smack at Evie “I need bleach E, bleach!”

Evie pushed her hands away and shook her head “I’d rather you not go blind M” Mal just pouted and sunk back in her chair “also, I do need to get back to work so?” Mal sat up and gestured to the papers, picking up the pile Evie had set aside and starting to read, wanting to be involved in the program.

The room was silent other than the occasional shift of papers and scratch of a pen. Then mal popped her head back up to look at Evie, who glanced up at Mal and quirked her brow.

“oh, I heard you got appointed captain of the science league!” Mal grinned as Evie's entire face brightened, her eyes sparkling.

“yeah! I don’t even know how it happened, but Doug told me about this little contest with chemistry and I joined and I guess the winner got to be captain? But yes! And there's a championship after school starts up again!” Mal hummed with interest, leaning on her hand and listening intently as Evie went into her usual rambles.

“so it basically like that math league thing Carlos did for like two months, they ask us questions and stuff like that, and there's a physical part to it as well, the captain and three others on the team compete with the other team with an unknown challenge to create a certain chemical or other, last year they were challenged to make a chemical reaction, and our team won with making foam volcanos with beakers, all different colors, they had to make the chemicals used and everything from scratch with the bases they were given”

“that’s dope” Mal responded simply, not knowing what to say but wanting to keep Evie engaged.

“I know right!” Evie giggled, clapping her hands together slightly “we actually did the same experiment a bit before summer break started, we also launched soda bottles into the sky!”

Mal grinned at that “and yes I will show you how to do it, though I’m keeping the mentos away from you” Mal shook her head slightly, setting down the papers in her left hand and stretching.

“gah~” she glanced out the window, groaning at how dark it was already getting “wow how long have we been at this?” Evie pushed in her rambling and looked outside, gasping as she saw what Mal was talking about. It wasn’t pitch black, but the sun was beginning to set.

“holy shit how long have we been at this?” she pulled out her phone and bit her lip “it’s already dinner time!” Mal shoot up at that and grabbed her (Ben’s) jacket and slid it on, walking over to the door while looking back at Evie.

“come on! (y/n) said it was spaghetti night with garlic-ow!” the door opened in Mal's face, smacking her in the nose and making her stumble back.

“Mal!” Doug winched, swiftly closing the door and reaching out to the whining half-fae “shoot I’m sorry! I didn’t know you were behind the door!”

“knock next time” Mal muttered from behind her hands, her eyes screwed as pain thumped from her nose.

“I will I will- I’m so sorry” Doug stressed, pulling back slightly as Mal waved him off.

“forgiven, it was an accident.” Mal pulled her hand off her nose and wiggled it, looking towards Evie and Doug with raised brows “well?”

“no blood” Evie chirped, quickly organizing the papers and grabbing her bag, slinging it over her shoulder and grabbing onto Mal's hand to pull her out of the room “come on, I’m starving~”

“that’s what I came to get you for” Doug spoke up, stepping up next to Evie as the three of them made their way to the cafeteria “I noticed the two of you weren’t there yet and I didn’t want you to miss dinner”

“thank you, Doug,” Evie cooed, Mal leaned forward a bit to smile at Doug

“what she said” Doug smiled back and nodded.

“no problem” it was a quick walk to the cafeteria, and when they entered Mal immediately separated from Evie and got in line, bouncing on her heels as the smell of garlic bread hit her.

Evie walked over to the table that was occupied by the vks and set her bag in-between Jay and Gil. “hi~” she sang, before spinning around and joining Mal in the line.

You looked up from your food for a moment, eyeing Evie's bag for a moment for no other reason than knowing she always had peppermint puffs in them before going back to eating.

The table was mostly silent other than Gil and Jay talking about their next season of tourney, Carlos typing away on his laptop, and Harry's foot tapping on the floor.

A few moments later Mal and Evie joined the five of you at the table, Evie taking her bag off the seat and taking its place, while Mal plopped next to Carlos and immediately starting slurping up her spaghetti “those etiquette lessons really didn't do much huh Mal~” Evie teased, laughing as Mal glared at her and knocked her wrists together twice.

“I should have never introduced you to friends” you laughed, setting down your fork and grabbing your drink, deciding to change the subject as Evie and Mal started to throw fake ‘fuck you’ signs “before you and Evie start fake flipping each other off, how was your first day of therapy Mal?”

Mal paused for a moment, pursing her lips “it was….therapy? I don’t know how to answer that?”

You shrugged in response “well, did it feel awkward? Did the therapist push you too much? Or was it just kinda…okay?” Mal looked at you for a moment before looking at her hands in thought.

“it…the most we did today was just getting to know each other, something about me being comfortable was the entire point of the therapy thing, and that I should only tell her things if I feel like it, that I should never feel forced to tell her things” you smiled at that, reaching over to squeeze her shoulder gently.

“then it was a great first session, now just remember it's twice a week, okay?” Mal snorted, gently slapping off your hand.

“yeah yeah, ever since cotillion E’s been helping me make a schedule so my brain doesn’t break again from trying to remember every single thing” Evie nodded in confirmation and tossed a meatball in her mouth.

“Nice, speaking of Evie, how's the going through the shit ton of papers?” you asked with a teasing smile, laughing as Evie kicked at your leg with a pout.

“Exhausting” Evie sighed, slumping into her hand and pushing around her food slightly “I've only gotten through half of it and that was all guardian stuff!” the rest of the vks raised their brows at that.

“Guardian?” Carlos asked, closing his laptop slightly “what do you mean guardian”

You took the chance to explain since Evie might’ve not known the exact reason why the vks had guardians “It was one of the demands of the council; because you guys are underage, you needed a legal adult to claim you just in case something happened, and since your parents are on the isle and can't come off, Ben asked some adults in Auradon to be your guardians. essentially if any of you land in the hospital and need to be signed out by a legal guardian, they’ll come to do that”

The vks nodded slowly, then turned to Evie “Sooo who are they?” Gil asked, biting down on a garlic cheese biscuit.

Evie shrugged slightly “Um, well mine’s Cinderella” the others gave her a look “I know, I don’t think Chad knows, um, Mal’s is a woman named Megara” Mal butt in for a moment.

“Have no clue who that is by the way” you laughed at that, Mal turning to you with curious eyes.

“I know, Megara is Hercules wife, like, daughter-in-law of Zeus and all that” Mals jaw dropped a bit as she nodded.

“Oh…alrighty then…oh wait! The one that had a deal with Hades n stuff?!” you nodded at that.

“The same” Gil perked up and asked you who was his guardian “um, Eugene Fitzherbert, Harry’s is Wendy Darling” Harry did a small spit take at that “Yeah that’s why she was nice on family day love” you chuckled, patting his pat as he coughed out his apple juice. “um, Carlos your guardian is Anita Radcliffe, and yes the one that your mom stole the puppies from” Carlos looked at you with utterly confused eyes “I know sounds weird, anyway, Jay's guardian is Aladdin” Jay's food dropped back on his plate as he stared at you “Yeah something about ‘knowing what you had gone through’ and all that…I just realized we're going to have to go through all of that guardian shit again” you groaned slightly, rubbing your face in frustration, you had spent several late nights with Ben just going through the, though scarce, application paperwork for the vks.

The council had made it hell to get the first six vks over to Auradon, Ben only being able to pull through it thanks to it being his first proclamation. But now since it was turning into more of a program than a proclamation, the council would probably make it hard again.

“Why?” Gil asked, frowning as you let out a frustrated puff of air.

“Well as I said, for you six to come, you had to have guardians, and we were damn lucky to find six adults who didn’t hold a grudge against yall for your parents, and…wait how old is Harriet?” you suddenly sat up straight as the realization came to you.

“um,” Harry tapped the table as he mentally counted “she a little younger than the isle…she was born in September so…18 righ’ now” you grinned “wha’?”

“She's a legal adult” it took a moment for the rest of the table to realize what you were talking about but it hit them a moment later.

“Harriet can be a guardian!” Evie sang happily, clapping her hands together in excitement “Oh, wait!” she stopped, pursing her lips slightly “Um, I hadn’t gotten to that part of the papers yet, how many kids to a guardian?”

“Two at most, if they aren’t biologically related to you, Harriet is automatically CJ and Harry's guardian when she comes, so then technically Harry you’ll have two, so possibly we can have Harriet sign up to be the twin's guardian…how old is Sammy?” Harry furrowed his brows in thought then snapped his fingers.

“In two months, he’s turning 18” you hummed as you tapped your finger against your chin.

“I don’t want to wait that long unless we have to, I guess for Sammy and Dizzy we’ll just have to find some more people willing to be guardians or see if any of yours are willing to be responsible for another kid.”

A flash of pink caught your eye as the table delved into “New vks” talk and you looked up to see Audrey walking into the food line, her posture stiff. You shared a look with Ben, who was at a table with his friends, and stood, dragging your hand across Harry's back as you did, and walked over to the girl.

“Audrey?” she jumped slightly, her honey-brown eyes widening as she realized it was you “Hi, when did you get back from the cottage?” she shrugged slightly, stepping forward in line as it moved.

“A couple hours ago, I stayed a bit longer after Chad helped fix my tire at the request of my godmothers” she gave you a small, though strained, smile “um, how you been?” you shrugged, nodding back towards the vks.

“Eh, we’ve been going over the thousands of papers to start on the next round of vks, I’m tired as fuck but ill deal with it” Audrey let out a soft laugh and the two of you walked a bit as the food line moved again.

“Grammie talked about that…” you could sense the frustration behind her words, meaning her grandmother had gone off about your attempts about more vks the entire time and Audrey didn’t want to talk about it anymore.

“Sorry about that, um, did you hear Ben and Mal broke up?” Audrey just shrugged.

“yeah, my Grammy went insane over it, something about me having a clear chance with Ben again but I did my best to ignore her ya know?” you grinned at that, it seemed you had broken through some of her grandmothers hold on her, and were slowly removing the idea that she was responsible in being the sole provider of status In her family “cause I remembered what you said when Ben originally broke up with me, and I was kinda mentally like ‘well it’s not my job and I don’t care?’ and I realized as I was there….I don’t…think about Ben that way anymore” Audrey gave you a small smile, glancing back towards Ben as she did “instead of those butterflies I always got when I think of him... it's just….normal, like when I was a kid and dating wasn’t even a thing in my head…its…nice” her smile grew a bit “oh um,” she pointed at the line, which the two of you were almost at the trays

You smiled and patted her shoulder “no problem, I’m glad you doing good Audrey, it would have been nice to see you at cotillion, but I understand if that would have been hard” she nodded and grabbed a tray, waving you off as you walked back to the vks table and sat back down next to Harry.

“When did Audrey get back?” Mal asked, finishing off her garlic bread and glancing between you and Audrey.

“a couple hours ago” you responded simply, stabbing your last two meatballs and stuffing them in your mouth.

“oh” Mal looked between you and Audrey before going back to her food “okay, I just haven’t seen her all day then”

“for a second there I thought you were going to go fight or something” you joked, smiling a bit as Mal shook her head adamantly.

“heck no, why would I go out of my way to antagonize her?...well I mean I probably would have a couple months ago but…that would be just weird and…how would you say it? Out of character?” Carlos snorted at that “what?”

“Nothing I was just remembering how you went blonde and pastel for several months and that wasn’t ‘out of character’ for you?” Carlos used hand quotes as he spoke, laughing as Mal reached over the table to smack at him.

“Ney! I was having an identity crisis! I’m allowed to do out-of-character shit like that!”

“Switching the topic again” Jay interrupted, laughing slightly as Mal and Carlos continued to smack at each other “how's the search for Uma going?” Harry and Gil perked up at that. Mal stopped smacking Carlos and let out a low groan. “No luck?”

“not a tentacle in sight” she leaned on her palm “Then again I haven’t really been on the search party as of late, something about my school and everything else being more important”

“Do you think we’ll find her?” Evie asked, furrowing her brows as Mal shrugged “Well we have to soon, won't we? I mean she's a danger to Auradon” Evie squeaked a bit as she caught Harry and Gil's glare, your hand gently pushing on Harry's arm to prevent any…messes “Why are you two looking at me like that?”

“You called their friend a dangerous person, I think they are allowed to be a little pissed” you hummed, turning to Harry and giving him a look. He huffed and pouted down at the last of his dinner.

“But she spelled Ben? And she tried to get FGs wand to take control of Auradon!” Evie pushed, flinching back a bit as you looked at her with unamused eyes.

“Hypocrite much?” Carlos laughed a bit through his nose at your snark, looking down at his laptop as Evie, Mal, and Jay looked at you slightly confused “Oh come on you three, you can't have forgotten what you did only 7 months ago? You also spelled Ben, you also tried to get the want to control Auradon. You’re the kettle calling the pot black, Uma may have gone around the entire thing differently but all in all, she had the exact same plan as you six did.”

Mal, Evie, and Jay looked at each other uncomfortably before they looked at Carlos, who just rose his brow as if he was saying ‘you really gonna act like you’re better than her? Really? “She's right you know” Carlos hummed, looking back at his summer project “Uma is hardly different to us when we first came here, if the roles were reversed, I’m sure she would say the same about us”

Mal pouted for a moment before she closed her eyes and took a deep breath “I…suppose so” she grumbled, crossing her arms, Carlos just looked at her.

“Mal, you two have been at each other's throats since you were 10, most of it was you going after her, and her retaliating. I think it's time you let it go” Mal opened her mouth to argue but Harry glared at her, making her snap her mouth shut.

“I know yeh are tryin ta be better yeh imp, but tryin’ ta demonize Uma fer something yeh started is not helping yeh in meh books” Harry snarled, he and Mal having a glare off as tension raised at the table.

“Okay okay, that’s enough” you gently pushed Harrys face away from Mal and snapped your fingers in front of her face, making her blink wildly in surprise “I don’t want a bloodbath in the cafeteria please, anyway, Mal if I remember correctly, you did start the whole rivalry debacle, and I know why you did the whole stupid ‘shrimpy’ thing. It was just because your mother was an idiot and you need to leave that shit behind, if you continue to see Uma as a villain, that’s all she’ll ever be, it’s the same with you six, if the people of Auradon saw you as villains that’s what you would have become, and don’t try to tell me otherwise because I know exactly what went down on family day.”

The vks cringed at the mention of the horrid day. “I know, but you six were having doubts about your plans and then family day came along, so in turn, you decided to go through with everything. It’s the same with Uma, if you push her towards the label of Villain, she’ll accept it and rain hell on you and Auradon. So, you need to let your dumb rival shit go and see Uma as she really is, a troubled teen who has only had her mother's guidance on life and has been taught evil her entire life. Guess who that sounds like?” Mal sighed, crossing her arms and pouting at the table “hmm?”

“me” Mal finally admitted, closing her eyes “it sounds exactly like me”

“and me” Evie muttered, scratching her cheek as her eyes watered slightly at the memories of her mother surfaced.

“I’m sorry if that brought up bad memories but you three, mostly Mal and Evie, Jay you’ve been quiet but I could tell you were agreeing with everything” Jay winced at that “were acting like you are better than Uma when you’re not, she's just in the spot you all were in before and just after you came to Auradon.”

The vks were silent for a moment, the only sound being the usual noise of the cafeteria and Carlos typing away on his laptop. “and any new groups of VK’s we bring over may have the same mindset you six had when you originally came, but that doesn’t mean they shouldn’t get a chance, showing them kindness and that the path that their parents showed them is not the only way to live is our best bet to safely getting more kids off while not accidentally destroying Auradon in the process, but as far as I know, Uma is a big symbol to the kids, just as you six were, if you accept her, the other kids will be more willing to come, and less willing to follow their parent's orders. But first, you need to get over your shit with her”

Harry and Gil smiled at you, as the other four stared at you for a moment before Mal sighed and nodded “she’s right…as much as I don’t want to hear it, you’re right…fine, I’ll see if or when we find Uma, she is not booted back to the isle…I’m pretty sure Ben wasn't planning on doing that in the first place, he’s pretty adamant in giving her a chance”

Suddenly Ben's smiling face appeared behind Evie, looking at the seven at you “I heard my name?”

“We were talking about Uma and the vks” you said quickly, saving the others from attempting to cover up the conversation, even though they didn’t have to (it was a habit they had a hard time getting rid of)

“ah,” Ben hummed, glancing at his watch “yeah, that’s a…whole thing right there that we don’t have time to get into right now but!” he clapped his hands and looked from you to Evie “after you two are finished, if you could come to my office with the list? I want to get started on the new group as soon as possible and I need names and parents.”

You both nodded and watched as Ben smiled back and walked out of the cafeteria and back to his office to do his kingly duties. “I just realized the council might also prove some trouble in getting more kids off” you sighed, leaning into your hand again. The vks gave you a confused look “well you all know they have been why it’s been several months since you guys came and there have been no more vks. then Harry and I kept trying to get meetings with Ben to talk about the vks, but almost every time he either had a council meeting or”

you gestured to Mal, who winced “had a date with Mal, which I’m still pissed at him for doing that, but anyway” you waved off the mention of Bens agitating routine “even though it was stupid, they kept giving the argument that you six were a rarity in the whole of vks, and that we would risk the destruction of Auradon every time we took a group of vks off, and they kept voting to postpone the continuation of Bens vk transfer program. And they might keep doing with and succeed; and I hate saying this, thanks to Uma’s rampage at Cotillion.”

Evie grit her teeth slightly in anger, there were so many innocent kids on the isle that never deserved to be there and deserved a chance at a real-life, it wasn’t fair that the old geezers of the council would doom so many of them just because of one “bad” egg

You finished off your drink and slammed the cup onto your tray, standing with it and nodding towards the door “well I’m done, and I want to get this started and finished quickly” you leaned down and kissed Harry’s cheek as Evie nodded, quickly eating the last of her garlic bread and handing you her tray as you reached for it and went to go stash them away.

“bye, guys!” Evie called, the two of you running out of the cafeteria and towards her room to grab all the needed paperwork and the list.

“and if possible, I want to start on getting fresh food and other basic necessities shipped to the island” you finished, Ben immediately nodded at your request, writing it off on his notepad and underlining it.

“Sometimes I still can't believe my father let rotten food and garbage be their source of well…everything” Ben sighed, leaning back in his chair and holding his head.

“yeah…” you took a moment for Ben to process what was going through his mind before continuing “Because If we’re not able to get any kids off sooner than later, I want them to have a bit better of a living situation during the waiting period” Ben nodded again, sitting straight again and grabbing some of the papers Evie had revised and gone over.

“We might have to sneak around the council for some of this stuff, we all know that most of them hold a grudge against the vks for some reason, one of them being Audrey’s grandmother, and we all know what she's like” you and Evie shared a grimace.

“yeah…wait hold the phone” you waved your hands around, stopping the two from their work “Ben the council couldn’t vote on stopping the original transfer program, right? Since it was your first proclamation?” Ben nodded, leaning back a bit as a sharp grin bloomed on your face and you slammed your hands on the desk “This technically still counts as your first proclamation, they have no say on if you can or cannot bring more vks over! All we have to do is follow the steps you did last time and just…bring ‘em over! We might have some problems after that but fuck ‘em!” Ben stared at you for a moment, trying to realize what you were saying before it hit him.

“They can't vote on my first proclamation! They can only put rules on it! And since we closed ruling on it before you guys came” he pointed to Evie “they can't add any more rules! It's perfect!” “Let the bullshitting commence~!!!” you cackled. Lifting your hands in the air and spinning around “and if they try to send ‘em back because we went behind their backs, we can pull the fucking family card on ‘em!” Ben and Evie looked at you confused

“Harriet and CJ?! If they try to send them back for whatever shit reason you can just go” your voice drifted into a false light tone as you mocked Ben “ ‘oh, are you really going to send back these kids and separate a family?’ and just have Harry do that doe eye thing he does scarily well and BOOM! Six new vks here to stay~”

Evie stared at you while Ben did a mini celebration dance “(y/n) I now understand why Harry and Gil tell us not to piss you off, you are scary” you grinned at that and bowed.

“Thank you~ I do take pride in terrifying those who don’t understand my brilliance~”

Ben laughed a bit, turning back to his desk and pulling out the guardian applications “so what are we going to do about the guardians? (y/n) you mentioned something about Harriet being CJ’s guardian automatically so we wouldn’t need one for CJ?” you nodded, sitting back down in one of Bens cushy chairs.

“yeah, dunno if it’ll fully work out though so we should still pick out a guardian for her. And if it's possible, that Harriet could also be the twin's guardian, if I’m remembering correctly since Harriet is CJ’s biological guardian which in turn makes her CJ’s legal guardian, she could technically sign up to have two more kids under her name” Ben hummed slightly, shuffling through a stack of papers.

“i’mmm not sure, I think it’s possible, but what do we do about Dizzy and Sammy? They are both underage, aren’t they? And Harriet can’t be their guardian either”

you sighed, leaning back in your chair and rubbing your head “We can ask if any of the current guardians would be okay with being responsible for another vk, but I don’t know if they will go for it”

Ben glanced up at the clock and groaned “it's already almost curfew guys, I say we leave this for now and come back with fresh minds, it'll be easier to think when we're not dead tired”

“agreed” you and Evie chuckled, grabbing your things and waving Ben goodnight, walking back to your dorms.

“This is going to be a whole thing, isn’t it?” Ben sighed, shifting through the new vk applications, and Evie's two pound list, setting Harriet and CJs on top of Harry's file “but It’ll be worth it in the end��

-end of part 1-

part 1 yall~! we did it~!!!! i think to give myself some time to write the parts, ill be posting once a week, possibly on Saturdays (as to not post at the same time as @disneyfan50 because they post on Fridays with their amazing true defender fic and i don't want to possibly take away any of the stage from them that they so deserve because their writing is incredible and i’ll stop lol-) but yeah, Mini-series, here it is!!! i hope i’m doing good on the core fours characterization, and Mal’s, they are all still learning (while Carlos is a bit ahead of them because I've always seen him as the most emotionally mature) and unlearning stuff from the isle and Mal is learning to see that Uma and she arent really that different and Mal needs to stop being a hypocrite over things that Uma did that Mal did 6 months before her. :/

anyway Permtaglist!

@queer-cosette @sephiralorange

@lunanight2012 @daughter-of-the-stars11

@musicarose @imtryingthisout

@remembered-license @random-thoughts-003

@verboetoperee @thecaptainsgingersnap

@jatp-rules-my-life @rintheemolion

#Descendents #descendants #disney descendants #harry hook #harry hook descendants #harry hook x reader #harry hook imagine #interlude #finale #shuffle playlist #rewrite #part of your world

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moon-lixie · 3 years

Text

Change or stay the same - Han Jisung

word count: 4.791k

song: Punching Bag -Wallice

warnings: none, even though there's a bit of angst if you squint your eyes.

Yellow washed over the white walls of the room, soon enough soaking the bed sheets that draped over his body. The morning was eager to greet him, light poking at his eyelids to speed up the process of waking him.

A groan slipped his rosy lips before he moved to nuzzle his face on the fluffy material of the sky colored pillow. He dreaded mornings the most; one of the hardest tasks of the day was trying to rip himself away from his sheets.

His lids grew heavy after a couple minutes, sleep tugging on his arms begging him to drift away and into oblivion. Humming in satisfaction his mind was about to shut down when a loud ringing noise filled the room, it was Changbin’s special ringtone.

“Shit,” he murmured groggily before stretching his arm enough to reach the nightstand without having to move away from his pillow.

Putting the phone right beside his ear the first thing he heard was an oh so sweet Where the fuck are you, Jisung? It’s eight already. Which was soon followed by a string of profanities leaving his own lips, almost seemingly pushing him to move frantically across his room.

“I’ll be there in ten.” Was the last and first thing he said to his friend before hanging up and throwing his phone to his bed.

There was no time for him to take a shower; it’s not like he was planning to take one but he sometimes liked to pretend that he would. He barely brushed his teeth, changed into the first things that popped out of his closet and groaned at his empty refrigerator before finding himself running through the crowded streets.

He wasn’t particularly stressed despite his palms growing clammy at the idea of having to come up with a good excuse for his tardiness; to a certain degree he loved running like a maniac in that big city that seemed to have too many places for him to discover despite having been living there for years now.

A light giggle escaped his lips as he turned around a corner, now meters away from arriving at his destination. Despite his empty stomach and lack of morning coffee, he seemed to have too much energy to spare.

It felt like nothing could stop him until he couldn’t move his feet anymore, the world stopped before his eyes and breath left his lungs. He swore he had seen a familiar face but it had soon disappeared between the crowd; still, just one glimpse of said person had his heart coming to a stop.

“What are you doing?” Filled Jisung’s ears before he blinked back to reality; it was his friend of similar height, head popping out of the entrance door he should’ve crossed earlier.

Quickly shaking his head as he dismissed the question thrown at him, he entered the building and apologized to the older man throwing a curious glance at him.

The ride on the elevator was filled with silence, allowing his head to be filled with questions and worries that now had nothing to do with the task at hand but rather the person he believed to have seen.

Silence finally dissipated when he entered the studio to face a more or less exasperated Chan, he was sometimes too serious when it came to work but Jisung totally understood, one of them had to have the tiniest bit of seriousness or it could turn to chaos.

“I’m so sorry, I—”

“You overslept, we know. Let’s just get to work.” Changbin interrupted before patting his shoulder reassuringly.

A sheepish smile covered his lips before his fingers reached towards the bag that he was supposed to be wearing, the one that had his laptop in it. There went another fuck because he knew he was forgetting something as he left his apartment but was quick to shrug off the thought.

“It’s okay, you can just log in here.” Chan was quick to say without even having to spare him a glance to know what was the problem. He was grateful to have friends who seemed to balance out his clumsiness perfectly fine.

Taking a chair and moving closer to the desk he grabbed the mouse and started clicking away. Second later the monitor eagerly asked him for the password of his email where he happened to have his lyrics noted down. Yes, he used google docs, so what?

He gulped down at the thought of what he was about to type; his password never seemed to represent a problem until today. It was the name of someone he had last seen years ago, five to be exact. He just never saw the need to change it, not when he could type it with his eyes closed or in his sleep; it had been the same since he was in high school and until today he hadn’t minded that it stayed like that.

“Dude, we need to work so hurry up.” That’s right, he needed to hurry and snap out of it. it wasn’t such a big deal, he just needed to type every letter of your name in the specific order he knew by heart and pretend that it hadn't been you on the street just now.

And so he did, typing it as quickly as any other day, pressing enter and getting access to everything he needed along with a million memories stored as videos and pictures.

He cleared his throat before getting to work, he didn’t have the guts to revive his high school days in front of his friends; perhaps not brave enough to revive them at all despite the place or people around him.

Once the three of them were certain that the sun outside was slowly flooding the city with small orange and pink tinges, they exited the building that guarded their creative mess. Each walking their own way, not before throwing one last threat at the youngest in hopes that tomorrow he’d open his eyes at the right hour. Laughing lightly Jisung nodded and walked away, eager to return home.

His landlord had a white cat with some brown spots that somehow added to its cuteness; just like any other day he pet it before quickly scurrying to the elevator and finally walking past three doors before finding himself in front of his apartment door.

When he found himself inside, the first thing he did was take a shower, one that this time he had actually been intending to take. Later sitting on his bed, towel still tousling his hair in attempts to dry it, his laptop found its way to his lap.

His fingers didn’t hesitate much before clicking on the right places that took him to those videos and pictures that brought him joy every single time. Biting on his bottom lip he finally allowed the towel to rest on his shoulder and pressed play.

The video revealed his freckled friend whose laugh could light up the whole world, he did something silly as usual before Seungmin popped up a little far away. In the middle of a park, they found themselves atop lush grass that welcomed their feet happily as they fooled around.

After some time filming the two boys the camera moved towards some swings where you sat, expression all too dull for the situation that you were in. That was it, the video cut there and the memories would finish at that moment if he didn’t clearly remember what happened next.

He had stopped recording, closing the small screen of the video camera before walking towards you, a worried expression taking hold of his features. Once close enough he sat on the swing next to yours, feet kicking the soil softly.

“I don’t want to leave this place,” you had mumbled by his side, catching him off guard.

“What do you mean?”

“Haven’t you thought about what will happen to us when we go to college. It’s months away and I’m terrified of leaving.” A heavy sigh escaped your lips, pupils moving to catch his gaze.

Next time you opened your mouth, the tone with which you spoke was way quieter as if you were scared of saying such things. “I wish I could stay here forever, with you guys, just being silly and worrying about nothing.”

Reaching his hand to grab yours he ended up intertwining his fingers with yours before sighing and smiling sweetly. “Nothing is going to change, we’ll keep being together. Trust in me, we’ll make it through.”

You had smiled brightly after he spoke, blindly believing in his words that ended up not becoming true. Soon after everyone parted away to college the distance had done its job at making communication difficult, a text a day turned into one every week, quickly it had been one a month and then nothing but each other’s contacts saved on your phones.

Living kilometers away everyone kept moving on with their lives not really knowing much about each other. The only thing that he now was aware of was about his own story, how he had met Chan and Changbin in college and their common interest and ambition had brought them to work together in what they loved.

Quickly closing his laptop and leaving it on his night stand he plopped himself down on his face. Seconds after reaching for his phone and looking for your contact.

His breath hitched once it appeared on his screen, all too familiar but quite foreign by now. He had stopped himself from calling you many times; when he was sober he convinced himself that you wouldn’t want to talk to him after he lied to you that one evening, when drunk he decided that you deserved better than a Jisung that made no sense and slurred all his words.

Nevertheless, he always thought of you like how one thinks about their first love that never happened, because that was the case. Your reckless mixed with your amazing sense of responsibility —that he had always admired— still haunted him at night along with your melodious laugh.

Finally deciding that it was now or never he pressed on your contact and pressed his phone to his ear, dying slowly at every loud beep that separated him from your voice. Without notice the line went silent for a moment before a strange voice spoke a soft hello?, it wasn’t you.

“Is y/n there?”

“No, I’m sorry. I think you have the wrong number.”

He thanked the stranger, trying not to sound utterly disappointed before hanging up and throwing his phone towards his pillow and sighing in defeat. It had never occurred to him that you could’ve changed your number in the past five years but it made sense.

It wasn’t the end of the world, he could later call Felix and ask him for your number —because Jisung was certain he would have it— but that could be left for when he ate something and felt less nervous.

Walking to his kitchen it suddenly popped in his mind, his refrigerator was empty and that meant no food he could simply stuff in his mouth. He cursed for the nth time that day.

“It’s okay, I’ll just go buy something to eat and then get some groceries on the weekend,” he said to no one in particular before getting dressed again and going out to wander around the city until he found a place that sold something edible, that would suffice.

On one particular street where he had to wait for the traffic light to change his heart came to a stop because this time he didn't see you but rather heard your voice calling his name, and upon turning around there you were, just like he remembered.

A hello meant to escape his lips but it got stuck on his throat when you smiled at him warmly; he loved you as much as that eighteen year old him that would do anything for you.

Without thinking much he hugged you tightly; you were quick to return his hug, convincing him that it would be the biggest mistake in the world to pull away soon. People walked past the both of you, some huffing in annoyance as you were in fact obstructing the street but for all that he cared everyone could go and fuck themselves.

When he finally broke away the hug some words came tumbling down of his mouth before he got the chance to think about them, “I was going to grab something to eat, want to come with me?”

The words surely took you by surprise as confusion plastered in your face for a second, but you nevertheless accepted his offer.

“So...what are you doing here?” he asked as both crossed the street, Jisung no longer wandering without a destination.

“I live here.” He threw you a confused look that couldn’t mean anything more than a since when? that seemed to amuse you greatly as you laughed for a second before answering. “I moved not far from here three months ago, for work.”

Nodding lightly he kept walking, silence moving at a fast pace to catch up with your moving figures on the street, but it was futile as you spoke up once again.

“It’s silly but— ”

“It’s not,” he retorted before an unknown force tugged at the corners of his lips with force, refusing to let his smile falter.

“—I had been wondering when we would end up stumbling with each other.”

Those simple words made his heart beat at a faster pace, aggressively thumping against his chest. After all this time you still had his existence present in your mind, not seeming to forget how he always talked about moving here once he was old enough when he was just a child.

“Well, I’m glad that we finally did.” A coward, that’s how he should call himself from now on as the words refused to slip past his lips. He should tell you that he had tried to call you, that he had also been wanting to see you, but he couldn’t.

Jisung had decided to bring you to a small dinner that was not only cheap but delicious; he smiled way too widely once you asked for the same you used to have and you questioned him with your eyes when he asked for coffee, he used to not be able to stand the bitter taste.

Hours passed as you both caught up with each other, apparently you still spoke often with Felix —which he already suspected all along— and had only recently decided to move out from the apartment you still shared with your college roommates, ending up in that lovely city by chance.

His eyes scanned every single centimetre of yours, the small dimple that formed on your right cheek everytime you chewed, the way your faint and discreet lip gloss had turned into a more lively lip tint, the ever so faint eye bags under your eyes that seemed to distinguish people your age.

“God, then Felix fell to that fountain, right?”

He snickered loudly before nodding in affirmation. “He had to walk all the way home completely soaked. He wouldn't stop complaining.”

The laugh that escaped your throat seemed almost nostalgic; it had been quite a while.

When you both crossed the door on your way out the only light covering the streets were those of the streetlights and some cars stuck in traffic. He offered to walk you back home and you immediately nodded in approval of his proposition.

In the blink of an eye he had turned to the high school Jisung that would walk slightly behind you, secretly wanting to reach out for your hand and intertwined his fingers without you, but not even now did he have the courage.

The walk seemed to be awfully short, perhaps because he didn’t want to leave you yet. You got your keys out and stood in front of your door but still facing him as if waiting for something.

“You changed your number.” Was the first thing he could think of saying to what you sighed awkwardly and answered him a quick I did.

“I would love to get something to eat with you again or just talk for a while. So I was wondering if I could have your number.” His eyes closed mid sentence, feeling embarrassed about his sound lack of ability to say something that wasn’t awkward.

Thankfully you seemed to want to spare him some suffering, quickly asking for his phone so you could add your contact, sneakingly adding a cheesy heart after your name. And when you were about to close the door you turned around and asked one last thing, “How did you know? You know, that I changed my number.”

He didn’t like the implications of that question, almost as if you were implying that it would be impossible to know if he hadn't tried to contact you, which you seemed to believe he hadn’t tried to do so all this time.

“I called you and someone else answered.” You nodded softly at his words, a feeling that he couldn’t quite comprehend pooling in your eyes before closing the door.

Yes, he should’ve called you sooner, should have texted Felix asking for your new number a million years before but he never thought of it despite always thinking of you. He had gotten so caught up with every present day that he had forgotten what he was leaving behind; but now you were part of his present and he was determined to keep you there.

It didn’t feel like he was on a cloud as he made his way back home, it rather felt somewhat heavy as he thought back on the last look in your eyes. If he could then he would run back to your door and wouldn’t leave until a smile hung on your lips, but he was scared of overstepping his boundaries.

His bed felt less comfortable than usual but that was usual on the navy nights that lyrics haunted his mind. And so he found himself on his usual spot on the floor of his room, guitar lazily placed on his lap, laptop sitting on the floor making him have to slouch himself to properly type down what he wanted.

At one point he fell asleep, not caring about the hard wooden floor under his back or the cold air nipping at his skin. Until he moved, guitar complaining about the position it had been placed at. His eyes snapped open and he quickly reached his hands around the floor until they found his phone.

One long yawn and then his eyes were being met with an almost perfect 05:59 that quickly turned to 06:00. He still had a solid hour and a half of sleep but he still found his feet colliding with the pavement of the street, later reaching a coffee shop near the studio.

He exited the place with the ring of a bell and an iced americano seeping cold into the warm skin of his hand. A pleased smile grazed his lips upon the first sip, he was now more ready than ever to start his day.

Not long after his friends were exaggeratedly gasping in surprise behind his back upon reaching the studio and finding the younger there. He clicked away shamelessly, never daring to feel embarrassed in front of them, not when it came to music and his sometimes peculiar lyrics.

“A love song?” Chan snorted while peeking over his shoulder, only causing a light blush to spread across his cheeks. He only shrugged it off before continuing his work.

Hours passed and as the sun reached its peak his fingers found their way to his phone screen, clicking on your contact and quickly typing a short message before he started overthinking his way to never speaking to you again. Only then noticing the heart that you had placed beside your name; it made his heart do a flip

He typed a quick and simple question, asking if you were free at seven; soon after you replied with a lovely yes that made him giddy. His expression must have radically changed because Changbin felt free to question him and try to take a peek of his screen.

“Hyung!” Jisung said annoyed while scooting away a couple of centimetres, his friend just giggled in content and left him alone.

Taking into account that his apartment was a mess he quickly convinced you to hang out at yours to what you even ended up offering to make dinner for both of you with a sweet If you get the ingredients then I’ll be happy to cook.

So as soon as he had the chance he shouted farewell to his friends as he hurried to his apartment to get ready and buy the things you had asked him too, feeling all too happy and young. It’s not like he was old but everytime he thought about you now he felt like a child, back at 15 or even worse, younger, not knowing what to do except stare at your messages with complete infatuation.

His knuckles hesitated before colliding with your beige door twice, quickly and with enough force to make his presence known to you who opened with a tender smile barely reaching your eyes.

When he entered he couldn’t help but allow his eyes to linger around every small detail that the place held. The grey cushion went delightfully well with the subtle tones of yellow and cerulean, those matching with some accents you had added on the walls.

Only then he noticed that just as your number changed you could’ve too, he knew all about the you who had survived school by his side but almost nothing about the person who lived on that tidy apartment that smelt faintly of vanilla.

He turned around to find the image of you moving freely in the kitchen way too endearing to look away. Your hands got everything he had brought out of the bag and your back greeted him with a sense of familiarity he could get used to.

A second later you turned around, a playful smile crinkling the corners of your eyes. “Are you going to help me or are you just going to stand there?”

Jisung chuckled before throwing a small apology to the air, walking to your side and not forgetting to push his hips to meet yours. Grabbing some vegetables he moved to the sink to wash them, that was one of his specialties in the kitchen.

You hummed along at a non existent song while he dried his hand on the kitchen towel, watching you cook without major effort. Out of nowhere your eyes travelled to his, making him freeze on his spot for a second.

“I missed you,” you said with ease, showing him that those words weren’t as hard to pronounce as he had been thinking since he hugged you on the street.

He was about to answer, finally allowing himself to take the proper time to express how happy he felt about your presence when you turned around and walked a couple steps towards him, gaze saddening ever so slightly. “Why didn’t you call me in all this time?”

“Well...” He sighed loudly, contemplating the option with which he could respond. I was scared? Well sure, he was but that wasn’t really the reason. I forgot? More like it but it definitely sounded rude enough to gain the wrong reaction from you. I love you? No, that wasn’t the answer to this question in particular, but it sure was an answer he would have to say at one point.

At the silence that installed in the kitchen you sighed before speaking. “When we first started getting distanced I was really discouraged, but every single time I feared we wouldn’t talk again I remembered something you told me once. God, maybe you don’t even remember.” Jisung’s gaze softened once again, of course he knew, how could he forget how he lied to you. “You said ‘Trust in me, we’ll make it through’, even now it brings me such peace to think back at the certainty with which you said that.”

You walked towards the couch, sitting and patting the cushion beside yours to urge him to do the same.

“Those words healed me during the hardships that I went through, they gave me hope that no matter how much time passed we still remained the same, all of us.” You sighed loudly and looked at the floor. “But still, I couldn’t help wondering why? Were you too busy? Not interested enough? Had you forgotten about me? And at some point I blamed you until I realized that I could’ve texted you too, or perhaps called you. But I was so caught up in being scared that I never made a move, and without realizing the years had passed by.”

After a short pause you moved your eyes to meet his again, filled with melancholy. “So, I didn't call you because I was too much of a coward and I accept it.” Jisung chuckled lightly, earning a small laugh from you as well. “So why didn’t you?”

He sighed once again before leaning back on the couch, to which you followed seconds later, resting your head on the back of the couch while looking at him with an intense gaze.

“Did you know that your name was my email password when we were in high school?” he began; you immediately shook your head to deny knowing. “It still is. I hadn’t seen you in five years and still your name keeps being my password. I typed it every time I got a new phone, when I forgot my laptop and had to log in elsewhere, all the time, your name.”

He stole a glance at your face and smiled widely before looking at the ceiling, white and with the smallest crack on one corner of the room. “There wasn’t a second that I didn’t think of you and not a moment in which I didn’t have the intention of calling you.

There were times in which I was way too caught up in my life and what I had in front of my eyes but that wasn’t enough excuse. Just like you said, one day I realized that it had been too long and I felt too guilty to do it. I had promised you we wouldn’t drift away and then there I was, months of not exchanging a single word with you and an incredible amount of guilt tying my hands to my back.”

“I lied to you and then convinced myself that I had no right to face you after,” Jisung finally said, embarrassment creeping up to his cheeks at how his statement sounded out loud.

“But you didn’t lie to me, at least not entirely,” you quickly retorted, earning a quick snort from him.

“Well damn, thank you so much. Now I feel way better.”

Rolling your eyes and hitting his arm lightly, you continued, “You said we would make it through and here we are; being away from each other wasn’t the end of the world. We, well, I was too childish back then to think that our relationship changing a little would be the end of the world.

We were kilometres apart, of course our relationships would change but in the end it didn’t change that much. I mean, look at us. You just revealed an embarrassing secret that will cost you your email.”

He threw you a warning look before you giggled. “After all this time we can still talk freely, it’s just a matter of catching up where we left off and going back to our old rhythm.”

A matter of catching up and going back to our old rhythm. The first part had put his calm at ease, the second one not so much. He didn’t want to go back exactly to what you had; you had just said it yourself relationships change and he wanted this one to do so as well.

He reached his hand to grab yours, finally intertwining his fingers freely with yours after years of hesitation. Throwing you one last look he just muttered, “Or change.”

“Or change...” you repeated after him, adding with mischief something else, “like your password should if you don’t want me lurking around your email.”

“God, you have such a way of ruining things" You snorted and he sighed in defeat. You were still a dork and that would never change, like his password; remaining the same that he loved.

#I've been writing longer things lately #Can I call this the tumblr effect?#kpop #skz fanfic #skz fanfiction #skz imagines #stray kids #stray kids fanfic #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids fic #stray kids imagines #skz fluff #stray kids fluff #skz oneshots #stray kids oneshot #skz jisung #skz han #stray kids han #stray kids jisung

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aizawaskittenwhore · 3 years

Text

𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐮𝐭

pairing: cartel!shota aizawa x fem!reader

words: 2.4k

warnings: swearing, this will be a cartel!au, so mentions of c*ke and distribution...yeah lol, suggestive content towards the end of the chapter (vague description of a bj), angst, cheating, aizawa just ain’t shit in this story LMFAOOO

a/n: this is the third fucking time i’ve tried to post this so if it doesn’t work i’m gonna cry. but I AM SO EXCITED FOR THIS ONE and i can’t wait for you all to see what i’ve got planned. so uh...strap yourselves in it’s about to get crazy. sorry ms joke </3

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐞: 𝐂𝐨𝐜𝐚’ 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐆𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐬

The salty, warm breeze from the ocean whipped its way through Shota’s onyx locks, tossing them around with a gentle force. Miami was gorgeous from the water, skyscrapers alight with the buzzing energy of the city, streets crawling with good food and even better looking women. Gorgeous full lips wrapped around martini glasses, criminally short dresses clinging to any skin it was given. He didn’t care much for the nightlife, opting to observe the partygoers from a distance.

He wasn’t here to socialize.

He was here to work.

His wrists draped over the edge of the rail that separated him and the water, a small portion of his weight against the cool metal. When Hizashi suggested that he get a yacht he nearly spat out his whiskey, face contorted in an expression of annoyance and disdain. Shota didn’t understand why someone would need such a flashy boat, it was merely a watercraft meant for travel and or fishing. This wasn’t the 1400’s where one’s worth was tied to the size of a man’s ship. Just another glorified pissing contest for rich people with too much money, and not enough couple’s therapy in the world that could keep them home for days at a time.

It’s not as if he was in any position to judge though, his pinky coming to rest just below the silver band that rarely inhabited his ring finger these days. He doesn’t entirely know what possessed him to wear it, whether it be the ever-crushing guilt from lying to his wife, or the text he’d received from Emi this morning that read:

“Make sure to bring me back a mojito! Don’t work yourself too hard, and remember how much I love you!💕”

If only she knew that these tri-monthly “Inter-Departmental Hero Conferences” were just fronts for selling a literal boat-load of cocaine.

Turns out, yachts were really good for that.

In the span of just five years, superhuman society was nearing it’s peak. Upon the graduation of all the students in the 1-A Hero Course, and Izuku Midoriya’s induction as the new Symbol of Peace; the world began to see an astronomical shift. Crime rates were the lowest they’d ever been, with Japan and the States sitting at 2 and 4.5 percent, respectively. Newly minted Pro Heroes roamed the streets, bringing security to those who needed it and striking fear into the hearts of those who were on the wrong side of the law.

But this utopia came at a price. With the sudden influx of fresh and talented pros, crime decreased exponentially, leaving little villain-based work for Heroes to get paid for. Hostage situations and evacuation efforts took backseat to helping older women across the street and assisting young children with their schoolwork. Soon enough, peace became a burden for those whose careers surrounded chaos.

Aizawa was no exception to this dilemma. Once Midoriya and his classmates graduated and obtained their Hero Licenses, he’d ended his tenure as an instructor at UA. He felt that he’d done his civic duty as a teacher and a Pro, and produced some of the finest Heroes the world would come to see. So he began to settle down. Surprisingly, he’d begun to tolerate Joke’s incessant laughter and boisterous personality, and soon fell in love with the eccentric woman. Between patrols and giving advice to aspiring Heroes at the community center, he and Emi explored all the the world had to offer; swapping out steel-toed combat boots for soft plush flip flops against hot sand. After three years he’d proposed, much to Emi’s delight (and Ashido’s upon hearing that Mr. Aizawa could actually tolerate another human being). The ceremony was small, and intimate. Shinsou serving as the ring bearer, and Eri as the flower girl. Mic even shed a few tears during the toast, though he’ll deny it if Kayama ever brings it up.

For a while, things were good. Life was good. Emi was glowing with the energy of a new life blossoming inside her, and Shota fantasized about meeting his little girl, counting all of her dainty fingers and toes, and doting on her for all to see.

Or at least it was, before agencies began to close. Paychecks got smaller and smaller. Heroes were struggling to find work and their pockets began to struggle along with them. With Emi on maternity leave, and Hero society coming to a standstill, things were looking grim. He needed to provide for his family, his wife, his children.

He needed a plan, and fast.

Luckily, Hizashi always did have good standing with everyone’s favorite Bird Boy. So he called in a few favors.

“Just for a couple months man! We stir up a little bit of noise, make a couple ripples and bam! Crime rate’s back up, and we get back to makin’ money. It’s temporary. Nobody will ever know, I’ll make sure of it. I got you.” Hizashi pleaded, an arm slung across Aizawa’s shoulders as he pensively gazed into his glass of amber liquid. He’d done some vigilante work here and there in his twenties but this....this was outright criminal. But what choice did he have?

Just a few months, he’d said. If only it’d worked out that way.

“I was getting worried you wouldn’t show, Eraser!” Zhu thundered, hands clapping joyously at the other man’s timeliness. “That’s some boat you got there, let me guess...the wife’s idea?” He queried, eyebrows waggling emphatically as Aizawa descended from the metal ladder and onto the wooden pier; eyes rolling into the back of his head at Zhu’s...excitable personality. The two had known each other for about two years or so, having gotten acquainted over the course of Shota’s many trips between Japan and the States, and sometimes South America. Zhu Kanaka was a man of the lower ranks, opting to use his easygoing disposition to negotiate deals for Takami “Lord of The Skies” Keigo, better known as Hawks. Standing at a solid 6 foot 4, with thick black locks that spiked into a point reminiscent of an onion, thick bushy brows and a set jaw, you’d think he wouldn’t hesitate to punt anyone like a football.

At least until he opened his mouth.

“As it turns out, Emi hates the damn thing. Makes her seasick. Hizashi talked me into getting the fuckin’ eyesore.” He intoned. His left hand palmed his slacks for the emergency pack of cigarettes he kept in his back pocket for when he was stressed during a deal, although he never really needed them anymore after Eri said she wanted him to quit. He still held on to them though, just in case. “The hell you waiting for? You know the deal man. Let’s see it.” He muttered, silently willing for Zhu to get on with it so he could get in a bed. Three and a half hours on a goddamned boat (that you didn’t even want to begin with) will do that to you.

“Someone looks like he needs a nap. Alright, I got ya. Count it, make sure it’s all there. I had Thing 1 and Thing 2 back there pack it, so you might wanna double check.” Zhu quipped, jerking a thumb towards the two young men currently engaged in a heated game of Rock, Paper, Scissors; the pair of them flushing upon receiving one of Aizawa’s infamous stares. Two thick black duffles were handed to his two bodyguards, the men immediately unzipping and checking the stacks, a mental tally steadily climbing higher and higher as they sifted through the cash.

“He’s good. Four hundred thousand in each bag. It’s all there, Eraser.” Sato affirmed, Toru nodding alongside the man. “Good. Go ahead and call Jamie, tell him to bring the car around. Zhu, I’ll send Sato and Toru to help your men unload our shipment. It’s a hefty one, so you’ll need the assistance.” Shota offered, shoulders visibly relaxing at the thought of getting some alone time in an empty hotel room.

“Yeah that’d be great, thanks! How long you in town for?”

“Until about 3pm tomorrow. I’ll be on my flight back to Kyushu then.” He states, right arm extending to clasp the other man’s hand in a firm grip. “You’re goin to that meeting the Big Man’s holding in a few days right?” Zhu queries. “Unfortunately, yes. Gonna miss my little girl’s first doctor’s appointment for this shit.”

“No way! She had the baby?!?!? Congratulations man! How’s it feel?” Zhu exclaims, eyes alight with joy for his friend’s new addition to the family. “Feels good. She had a smooth pregnancy, everything worked out fine. Hana’s beautiful, and healthy. I couldn’t be more proud.” Shota brags slightly, heart swelling at the thought of his little girl and how proud he was to know he’d helped in making someone so...ethereal. “Wow. Raising another kid, you flying out all the damn time, along with whatever else you got goin on?? No wonder you look like shit.”

Red eyes and floating hair caused Zhu to immediately retract his former statement.

“Aw I’m just joshin’ Eraser! But I hear ya. It’s a lotta’ sacrifices that go into this, but they’re who we do it for. All of it. Ya know?” Zhu amends, eyes shimmering with the reflection of the city lights off of the water.

Did he even know who... or what he was doing this for anymore?

Shota found himself asking that question more and more often as of late.

“...Right.”

“Anyway, you’re probably spent, so I’ll leave you to it. It was good seeing you man, send Emi my love!” Zhu shouted as he slowly walked towards the men unloading his boat. “Likewise. Tell Macie and the kids I said hello.” Aizawa responded dryly, body screaming for some kind of relief from this exhaustion.

“Will do! Oh, by the way! You might wanna bring some cooler clothes and sunscreen with your pale ass, I hear Guadalajara’s pretty sunny around this time of year! See you in a few days man!” The male laughed, throwing him a wave as he slowly disappeared into the darkness of the port. Massaging the bridge of his nose in irritation, Aizawa nodded in acknowledgement as Jamie pulled up alongside him; his hand reaching for the handle and dragging his siphoned body into the backseat.

Jamie could sense his employer’s weary expression, and didn’t make any attempts at conversation, merely opting to start making his way to the hotel while smooth jazz floated through the car. Forehead against the door of the towncar, Shota typed out a quick message to his wife:

“Alcohol is the last thing you need sweetheart, and I love you too. Got another meeting in a few days, mandatory. I’ll in be in Mexico, so I’ll miss Hana’s appointment. I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to the two of you.”

Sent.

The message sat for a few seconds before Emi read and typed out a response:

“Aw, bummer! </3 Dont worry, work is much more important right now. I’ll be sure to take lots of pictures!”

“You don’t have to make it up to us, you caring is enough. Get some sleep old man, me and the girls love you. xoxo, Wifey 😘 ”

He didn’t deserve her.

He didn’t deserve any of them.

This he knew. And yet, it didn’t stop him from responding to the unknown number that texted his phone every time he happened to be in town.

“Same time and place? Desperately in the mood to play....My toys just aren’t as good as yours, Eraser. ;)”

His heart sank. A beat passes. Then two.

Calloused thumbs move fluidly across the screen. He’s done this far too many times.

“Be there in 10. You know the routine.”

And in retrospect...he would’ve been way better off just blowing off Guadalajara and going to Hana’s appointment.

Because while he wrapped her slick ponytail around his hand, as a head that wasn’t his wife’s dipped between his legs, he didn’t think this would be his last moment of peace. Shoved down the throat of a woman who’s name he had long forgotten, settling for calling her whatever pet name he felt like adorning her with, her hands clawing at the soft and sleek cotton of his trousers.

Aizawa never anticipated that this would be the last time he would be in a room without immediate reinforcements, and be content.

The last time someone he didn’t trust with his life knew his location, and he wasn’t terrified.

The last moments of peace in his world before it all went to hell.

Temecula, California;

1:36am

The office floor was barren. Dark, coffee stained carpet congealed with the bacteria of old and new; giving it a sad beige color from the creamy foam-like white it was when the building was built. Cubicles cluttered with miscellaneous paperwork from separate departments, all of it raining down from desk to desk like a fresh layer of snow on the first day of winter. Tired, weary hands typed at a computer with precision and accuracy, the warm glow from the screen illuminating the buttons on her blouse as she plowed through each document. Her body raged for a moment of rest, but she couldn’t give in. Not when so much was at stake, not when so much needed to be done in so little time.

After a few minutes, and approximately twelve sips of bittersweet lukewarm coffee, the fingers came to a halt. A sigh of relief was freed from her body as she pushed the enter button on the dusty, tan keyboard and began to pack up for the night. Since the computers were set on an activity timer, there was no need for her to physically shut it down. After 30 seconds of no visible movement, the screen flashed a message declaring that the activity would be suspended within the next 2 minutes if no motion was detected. Content with her work, she slung her work bag over her shoulder, and trudged towards the elevator, mentally clocking out for the night.

As the elevator slowly carried its passenger down, the computer continued its countdown before discontinuing its power, leaving the following words for nobody but its future recipient to read:

Drug Enforcement Agency Operative Travel Request:

Agent: L/N, F/N

Current Operation: Potential formation of a rising cartel under the leadership and or affiliation of Pro Heroes Hawks, Endeavor, and Eraserhead. Agent has been undercover for eight months and twenty-seven days.

Investigation Status: Active

Location of Travel: Guadalajara, Mexico

Reason for Request: Possible gathering of multiple Hero-Run plazas to discuss further movement. Will gather more intel and gain trust of suspects involved/acquire more resources for investigation.

Travel Request Status: Accepted.

#shouta aizawa x reader #aizawa x female reader #aizawa x you #mha x reader #aizawa x reader #nyafterhours

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youcantfiremebecauseiquit · 3 years

Note

idk if u care but crispin gray recently had an interview about his entire career and it kind of changed my perspective of queenadreena…idk if for better or for worse lol. it was weird to see him so dismissive of a lot of his catalogue w katie except for ‘love your money’ just because that was the only remotely chart successful song. i get you want to be able to sustain yourself but jeez him and katie really had a weird back and forth relationship

Sorry i'm replying late, i've seen the interview pop up on Youtube but honestly i was too invested in university shit recently & generally not in the good mood for that but i'm planning to watch. How did it change your view on Queen Adreena, did he say something mean specifically on QA or Katie? I mean i gotta watch it but honestly? Not surprised in the slightest. A few years ago he was asked to describe fave songs he recorded throughout the years and he listed more of Daisy Chainsaw ones than anything else, with Love Your Money as number 1. The differences in their points of view are real something, Katie Jane absolutely HATED Love Your Money, same as Daisy Chainsaw. Kinda apparent he wanted bigger fame but DC dropped fast and QA failed to live up to their predictions.

i had a time when i liked to dig up old Queen Adreena interviews that are lost in the old internet & generally not available for years (which i planned to post on is-she-suffering but my investment in that site is... varied in its intensity). Also that was back in the days when i wrote Queen Adreena book during manic phase and tried to sell it but lost motivation Well since i don't do anything with that knowledge anyway i'll put what i know here as i love fan discussions

So they sure had/have odd back and forth love-hate relationship & that's the reason why their career went how it went. There's been a huge tension between them at some point. I'm sure you know she had a major mental breakdown (probably schizophrenic episode) after Daisy Chainsaw, or even beginning before her leaving, and then she went into isolation and lived with an old woman in Lake District for awhile. She left Daisy Chainsaw cause Crispin didn't want her to come up with her own songs (all of DC was by Crispin except for Lovely ugly brutal world by KJ).

They almost split up as Queen Adreena after Drink Me. The material for The Butcher and The Butterfly was written at different times, originally it was meant to be called Atom Bomb at Bikini but it was constantly delaying and they eventually recorded everything they've got live. So that's obvious right? But i was surprised to find out they were writing songs separately. Some of them (i forgot which though) were written by Katie Jane and Pete Howard's sons band (they're even credited) + some with Melanie Garside, Richard Adams + some other musician. Katie Jane didn't like it. They intended it to be their last album at the time. She also hated live at ICA show but they released it cause they were broke

But that's a digression. I just wanna say that at this point they were done with each other but kept pushing it. Katie had her own art projects and stuff, Crispin started Dogbones with Nomi and i just remember how vaguely pissed at Katie he waas in the interviews. Like he stressed that Dogbones is his number one priority and if Katie wants to do something with Queenadreena, she must wait til Dogbones have a break first or something, and it sounded oddly bitter.

RaCH and Djinn era are just so weird, they had opportunities but let them go in a way. I don't think many people know but they were huge demand in Japan. They entered album charts and were interviewed by 11 magazines and 6 (!)TV stations there (wtf happened to that material i want to know???). But they only played 5 times or less.

Katie said she considers the band dead but they decided they can try to play for a couple more months. But aside from that she 100% lost the interest in the band around Djinn. There's an interview where she says "the overall image is Crispin but the shape will change again at rehearsals". And you can hear it, it’s more blues rock than anything. IMO it's their worst production wise. Instruments are fine but Katie's voice is so badly produced that sometimes i find some songs fucking irritating, cause they didn’t cut out her breaths and the vocals are TOO LOUD, to the point of distorting. As if she stands too close to the mic. The album is fine but it feels unfinished.

And here we come back to Crispin... here's what he said after the QA split:

Why the Dogbones started? “I needed to work more than the previous band I was in was working, the previous band who shall remain nameless, haha… um… Queenadreena. I wanted to work more than the singer of Queenadreena wanted to work… so that’s why it started. Fine by me… but I really like to be in a band, I’m not a solo project kind of guy. The last album (‘Djin’) did come out in the UK, but it was so low key because Katie kind of disappeared so there was little point in promoting it. Personally it’s my favourite by far so it was a shame but there you go… So here are Dogbones, it’s not been an easy ride but we are trying very hard.

Ok so the bitterness is kinda apparent isn't it. I think there were two reasons why they argued so much, first musical differences. Katie at some point lost interest in loud rock music for some years and went the folk way in Ruby Throat. I have a theory that Taxidermy and Drink Me are more influenced by Katie Jane and Butcher and Djinn are more Crispin. During first albums i think Katie more actively took part in music composition and choosing arrangements. She wrote lyrics, melodies but also composed a lot of songs on some little electronic keyboard thing and 4 track (Heavenly Surrender, Pray for me, My Silent Undoing, all Lalleshwari +more). Plus she wanted more peaceful/dreamy sound on Taxidermy than full on rock, Crispin complained about it in some 00's interview, that he'd like it to be more rock. Then there are 2 versions of Drink Me, the original has rough and alt versions of songs (it was sold by Katie and it's leaked on FB and probably YT). Crispin Gray apparently really hated the final Drink Me. Now next album is The Butcher & The Butterfly and it's more standard blues rock, no more crazy dreamy things of previous albums etc., Djinn is even more blues rock but darker. Djinn was his favourite at some point while KJ hated Butcher, not sure about Djinn. So i think they had different views on where they should go, Katie made her weird simplistic creepy tunes (like Lalleshwari) and folk melodies adding that strange things to noise rock. Crispin probably wanted blues & rock.

Other than that, i’m convinced they are bitter exes, lol. There’s been rumours about them dating during Daisy Chainsaw for years, plus Katie had a history of dating band members. Crispin wrote X-ing off the days about her. I don’t know if they dated again in Queen Adreena. Then there’s this interview, timeline is unclear, either The butcher & the butterfly or later:

„Katie writes all the songs herself and often looks for melodies and structure with the drummer. With Crispin - her husband or ex-husband, which is not entirely clear to me - for almost three years she has no longer been in a room. "Sometimes we send him a letter with a new song and that's all we can do. All we have are our lungs and our musical talent and we have to do with it. It is repugnant difficult life, I know most of the time how I should deal with it." But Queenadreena will still remain even exist? "I think so, we are now pretty busy and I see where the ship aground.”

I always wondered what exactly happened after Djinn, i’ve seen Katie Jane say „i think they gave up on me” while others said she disappeared. Other times CG said there’s no bad blood between them but at the same time there’s been some weird tension. As of recent i thought they reconnected somehow through the internet and had a good relation but who really knows.s

I get why Crispin gets irritated when people compare everything he does to „stealing from KJ” but honestly, he gave them good reasons, at least in the 90’s. I can believe Starsha Lee singer isn’t copying Katie cause she’s from Brazil or something and she didn’t know Queen Adreena before. But everything else… Crispin’s problem is that he doesn’t know what he wants. He spent 90’s chasing something, tried singing himself, had girl singer replacements and even one KJ copy. Dogbones was ironically his most original non-Katie band, even with all their grunge influences. In a way he wants to be a frontman and at the same time doesn’t. Idk if he’s very controlling, but Daisy Chainsaw shows he valued his songs/lyrics first & in Queen Adreena he had to step back a lot, cause Katie’s condition was she would be in charge of the lyrics. I don’t think he realizes how strongly Daisy Chainsaw issues affected Katie, i mean from her own words you can read that aside from media attention/hate, her being unable to write lyrics had a role in her breakdown. I think she now let go but for years she hated remembering Daisy Chainsaw and she felt kind of worthless cause she was only somebody else’s mouthpiece. I’m not trying to say he’s cruel or anything, but i firmly believe rock lyrics writers should sing their own songs or else there are problems.

They both were writers-composers with different vision and i have impression they struggled a lot while shaping their songs, cause they both stuck to their ideas. Hence 2 versions of Princess Carwash maybe. Katie once said that he „gets terribly upset with her” cause she writes her songs on a simple wind organ and uses a few chord buttons only. Clash of writer ways/personalities/egos and at some point they had to let go.

Maybe he prefers music/bands where he was 100% in control including lyrics (note he wrote/sang some lyrics in Dogbones too). Daisy Chainsaw achieved bigger success US and UK wise as they were offered to play Top of The Pops, and they’re more well liked/remembered by „general alt public”. Queen Adreena however is way more valued as a cult band, with cult following and admiration in UK & France. Most people think Pretty Like Drugs and other QA songs are his best work and he probably finds it irritating cause truth is, he never managed to be more successful than Daisy Chainsaw/Queenadreena. Love Your Money is ironically the least Crispin Gray/DC/QA sounding song in my opinion. I kinda find it irritating that he downplays Queen Adreena cause it was probably his best work in this band but whatever

So yeah sorry for the word spill, that’s what i can think of it right now but as i said, i haven’t watched the interview yet, it’s just this kind of treatment is in a way consistent for him

#asks

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heartjwi · 4 years

Text

firsts — lee donghyuck

in which you & donghyuck share your first kiss, first fight, your first everything.

a/n: hello its jan the hyuck deprived bitch p.s my apologies on my rusty writing skills 🤓

you and hyuck had an interesting relationship to begin with to say at least

you were the goody two shoes while he was the opposite

he was almost like every bad boy!au created morphed into one

and no he’s not a dickhead or rude he’s just straight up,,, bold

if you exclude the occasional times he would talk back to his teachers and people who would be all over his face of course

anyways

so hyuck obviously had a reputation with girls (as expected of the school’s resident bad boy)

so he was already out of your radar

and vice versa

mainly because of the way his peers described you to him

you just disliked the fact he would be all over the place

to you its so messy and all that shit

in hyuck’s defense he was just being himself

hyuck also disliked the fact you think you’re too good for people like him

WHICH WAS NOT THE CASE IN YOUR PART

you just didn’t want to affiliate yourself with people who create a messy surrounding if you say so yourself

and on one magical day, you had to work with hyuck on some project

thus your little relationship was born

you remember the first time you talked to him and you didn’t expect to hear a honey like voice to come out from a face like his

hyuck was also shocked that you weren’t snobby as people described you to be

so anyway fast forward to the good shit

asking you out has to be the most frustrating, time consuming thing hyuck has ever done

first he had to get the approval of your parents

which took him 4 whole months to get a yes from your dad alone!!!

they just want what’s best for their daughter aka you okay 😤

second, he had to make sure the timing was perfect not only for him, but for you

knowing how meticulous you could get if he asked you out on a holiday or a special event

he’ll never hear the end of it

“if you asked me out on valentines day like almost every couple in the universe does, i don’t want it. i want our anniversary date to be special like it screams ‘us’ you know? so yeah no asking me out on holidays or special occasions” you tell him out of the blue

making him relentless cause he originally planned on asking you out on valentines day

but in the end, it was all worth it

he finally asked you out on august 28

which got him the sweet “yes” he’s been dying to hear after all the blood, sweat and tears he poured into making the day extra special

and now for phase 2: the relationship

the reason why you were a bit too picky on how you wanted your bf to ask you out was mostly based on the fact,,

you never dated anyone

so when you first found out about hyuck liking you, you were,, shocked

like someone ?? actually ?? likes ?? you???

and the fact hyuck was your first real crush and all that cute puppy love shit,,

it was a big deal for you

also the fact hyuck perfected your vision?? your dream date?? chefs kiss

you knew that hyuck had already shared his firsts with someone else

which kinda made you insecure at some point

cs you think the moment won’t really be special to him as it was to you

but WRONG !!!

hyuck was sweating buckets before you had your first real kiss with him

he was like: FUCK WHAT IF I FUCK UP AND SHE BREAKS UP WITH ME

while you were like: I DONT KNOW WHAT THE FUCK IM DOING

“let me know if you’re uncomfortable, okay? i just want this to be perfect for you and i” hyuck stares deeply into your eyes.

in the end, he guided you into the kiss so you didn’t just puckered your lips and attached it to his

after that vv sweet moment, you were as red as a tomato and hyuck looked like he could explode at any moment

truly a first, you’ll never forget

as your relationship ages like fine wine,

you could not ignore the fights here and there with him

but one fight was something you won’t forget

as it was your real first couple fight

there was a point in time where your whole relationship turned rocky with him

with finals catching up and shit ton of assignments due, academic stress was taking a toll

you were a bit too, snappy towards him and he, donghyuck, with his bratty attitude could not help but let out some few insulting words here and there time to time

anyway

so hyuck, again who already has his own problems to deal with, came to your aid one time as you called him crying and having a mental breakdown over your academics on the phone

he ended up coming over and somehow made it worse for you to deal with cs he was literally giving shit advice

“listen y/n, if i just came for you to push me away then i’ll just get going then” hyuck crosses his arms, not noticing the change of atmosphere in the room

“then fucking leave! i didn’t ask you to see me!” you snap at him

that was the very first time you’ve seen hyuck angry

“so i’m the bad guy now? i hope you know i would fucking drop ANYTHING for you if you needed me!” he yells, making you flinch.

but sis wasn’t backing down without a fight

“who said i needed you right now?” you retort, immediately regretting it right after you see hurt flash in his eyes.

“wait.. hyuck-” you tried calling him but it was too late. he walked out of your apartment without another word.

all night, you were trying to desperately contact him but seems like he turned off his phone

the very next day, you had bags under your eyes after a restless night

you thought of visiting him and ask for an apology but turns out he had the same plans as you do

when you opened your door to go see him,

there he was standing on your doorway with flowers on hand and a paper bag on the other

“hyuck?” “y/n?” you both say at the same time

hyuck notices your under eyes and instantly feels guilty over last night

you immediately hug him and burry your head in his chest. repeatedly saying “i’m sorry”

you feel his grip on you tighten, mumbling “i’m sorry too”

overall

hyuck would be the most patient person in the world when it comes to you

despite him not being used to the slow paced type of relationships,

he really made an effort to be with you and it turned out great

he’s got the most amazing girl in the world (for him) and he wouldn’t want it in any orher way

cause in the end, he knows all his sacrifices, efforts, and everything else,

is all worth it because of you

the end

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kabootarandishaan · 4 years

Text

Title: Priority

Summary: It's an aesthetic fic!

Pairing: Jotaro/reader

A/N: I was listening to I Choose by Layton Greene (y'all needa watch and listen to that music video asap) so I guess the aesthetic would be kind of clean white bathroom with huge mirror vibes, I know its specific but my rules, also I'm choosing Jotaro just because I feel like he's the one I'd think would have the most communication issues. Inspired by @kakyoin-shades . Reader is described vaguely so this is rated E for everyone! Also image is not mine credit goes to whoever owns the image

Warnings: um idk Jotaro being kind of abrupt but fluffy mostly

You tried to assure yourself that you knew what you were getting into. You quickly realized that with Jotaro everything wasn't as easy to pick up as you originally thought. You had been there with him throughout the entire journey. You stood by his side even after Dio had been defeated and thought maybe after that, things would become more normal or at least a little more stable. You understood Jotaro was not the type of person to open up and that your relationship would be something new for him to navigate. You had been very understanding of his situation given the circumstances I mean the man almost lost his mother, practically the only family he had.

But you also made it important to clearly communicate to Jotaro that a relationship was a two person job. You made sure that you were both equally invested going in and he seemed to understand that at the time. He said he would try his best to work with you if he had any insecurities or issues because he cared about you. But the last month had been hell. You had no idea what was up with Jotaro he seemed way more irritable than usual and whenever you would try to talk to him he would blow you off with a "Yare Yare, you're making a big deal out of nothing!"

You tried to reason that maybe he was experiencing some PTSD or he just had a bad day but his behavior just didn't seem to improve. It seemed his attitude didn't go unnoticed by the others as well because Joseph brought up with you one day, "Y/N has Jotaro seemed a little off to you?" You didn't wanna make it seem you couldn't handle your own relationship and eventually were able to change the topic. But the fact that Joseph brought it up made you realize the problem wasn't with you it was actually Jotaro.

You were cleaning around one day, something you did when stressed, and eventually made your way to the bathroom. You always had music on when you cleaned and stopped to have a little singalong in front of the huge mirror.

You call me crazy to think of

All of the things that I do

When you constantly do all the shit that I'm sick of

Sick of you saying all the times I might

Doing me wrong, pretending that it's right

You quickly realized the lyrics felt very reminiscent of your current situation and noticed you felt a small tinge of relief as you were able to vent to some degree. You continued feeling yourself as the bad bitch you were.

So mad, I could swing on you,

But I know that ain't gon' fix it

You just gon' get me arrested

And I'ma leave you in stitches

I'm just so done with you

Got me like how did I take what you put me through?

I should've been left you

You felt a sudden rush of confidence overtake you as you sang aloud with the lyrics looking at yourself in the mirror pointing and dancing. After quite some time had you felt this type of freedom and you were not going to stop anytime soon.

But instead I kept on waiting

Being patient for the day when

You would say you're tired of playing...

Fingers through my hair, you're playing

Got me looking in the mirror

Only one thing left to say is

My bad

I've been unfair to you

I played me for a fool

If it's between him or you

You're the only one I choose

As the chorus came on you felt two large hands engulf you in an embrace from behind. You saw those teal eyes stare at you through the mirror and could see regret. The next thing you saw, which you didn't expect, was him mouthing along the next couple lines

It's you I choose

You're the only one I choose

You turned around arms crossed as you were still upset at his lack of explanation for his trash attitude. He still held you only slightly looser, after noticing you were expecting a response he cleared his throat. You noticed the tips of his ears turn red, although you wanted to crack a smile, and you held your expression. "I don't know how to say this Y/NN." You cut him off "How about you start with an apology and try to explain yourself."

You said it a little abruptly but who could blame you your attempt at being reasonable with him didn't work. "Yare yare." You looked on your stern expression did not falter the slightest. "I'm sorry. I know I promised I would try and communicate my issues but I didn't and I have no excuse. I was scared to let you in. I didn't want to take you down into my low but now I realize that only cause us both to hurt more. I'll try harder. Sorry again."

You sighed, "I accept your apology Jotaro but I want it to be clear that we both went into this relationship understanding that we Both have to put in effort. You hurt me and that's not okay." You paused and turned around facing the mirror one again. You leaned back against him, your neck slightly resting on the base of his shoulder. "You promise to try harder and work on communicating?" You looked at him once more through the mirror.

His grip around you tightened, "I want you in my life and in order to keep you in my life I will do my best to work with you. So yes, I'll try." You smiled, "Good, but if you try that mess with me again you better remember if it's between him or you you're the only one I choose." You pointed from him to yourself in the mirror showing that you recognized yourself as your only priority.

#jotaro x reader #jotaro kujo #jjba #aesthetic fic #mirror #not my photo #jotaro imagine #im writing again #thats pretty cool #the pictures at the bottom idk why #is this a crack fic idrk #these tags are getting out of hand #jjba fanfic #jojos bizarre adventure stardust crusaders #stardust crusaders

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master-sass-blast · 4 years

Text

Release.

Hmmmmm... this thing is solid projection. Whoops.

Summary: You're exhausted. No matter what you do, you can't get enough rest to save your soul. You try to keep up with everything, try to not let the fatigue hinder you

--And then it all comes crashing down.

Pairing(s): Piotr Rasputin x Reader.

Rating: T for depression, anxiety, chronic fatigue, and general angst-hurt/comfort vibes.

Set after “It’s Truly Magical,” but this one is special in that it doesn't directly impact the canon. It's sort of a special one-off.

Author’s Note: So, as some of you may have gathered from the tags and preamble, this fic is basically me venting my own frustration.

I've been dealing with some pretty wicked chronic fatigue for the better part of... coming up on a year now, actually. Wow. I didn't realize it'd been that long.

It's made life really hard for me, from everything to eating to doing chores to hanging out with friends to writing. We don't know what's causing it, and we're trying to take care of it through lifestyle changes and making sure I don't exert myself too much (we meaning me, my family, my fiance, and my doctor). There's been a few things that have helped, but by in large it's still been kicking my ass.

I know I was gone for a long time. Part of that was the fatigue making it impossible to write or post. To those of you who are still around, thank you -and I'm sorry. I'm trying my best, I promise.

If you're dealing with chronic fatigue or think you're dealing with chronic fatigue, just know that it's okay that you're tired. You're not lazy. You're not a failure. You're not going crazy. You're not a burden. Your body needs rest, you need rest, and you *deserve* to rest.

Here's a resource on chronic fatigue syndrome and what it looks like.

I hope you're all doing well. Stay safe and wear your mask.

Taglist: @marvel-is-perfection, @chromecutie, @girl-obsessed-with-things, @super-darkcloudstudent, @dandyqueen, @leo-writer

It creeps over you. It starts as a wispy, soft cloud, hanging over the horizon of your existence.

And then it grows. Larger, more oppressive. Until you’re fully immersed in it, with no sense of direction or how to get out.

***

You’re not really sure you remember when it started. You’ve always been tired to some extent –anxiety, nightmares, and running on the X-Men schedule will do that to a person.

Exhaustion hits like a brick one day after training. You slump against the tiled wall in one of the shower stalls in the locker room. Water streams down your sweaty face and body while you struggle to make your eyes focused. Shit. I must have pushed too hard.

You manage to get yourself cleaned up and trudge back to yours and Piotr’s home at the back of Xavier’s property. You collapse onto the couch in the living room. Your limbs are stone, too heavy to drag another step. Your body throbs in time with your heartbeat. I need a nap. Just for a couple hours.

You only want to sleep for a couple hours.

You only mean to sleep for a couple hours.

You wake up at nine in the evening, to Piotr gently nudging you.

He tuts, fussing over you like a worried mother hen. “Are you feeling well, myshka?” He presses the back of his hand against your forehead. “You have slept for long time.”

“I’m fine,” you mumble, mind still cloudy with exhaustion. You force yourself to sit up. You jaw cracks when you yawn. “Just overdid it in training today.”

Your husband gently chides you, ushering you into the kitchen so you can eat. “It is important to replenish energy.”

You go straight to bed after eating and sleep for another ten hours.

***

Part of you wonders ‘how did I let this happen? How did I let it get this bad?’

The other part of you wonders if you had any say in it at all.

***

The fatigue starts seeping into other areas of your life as well. Training, grading, hanging out with friends, eating…

You’re so tired. You chalk it up to mission stress, to going too hard during training, to running on weird hours all the time.

You start sleeping through the day to cope. No matter how well you sleep at night or how much sleep you get, you’re always so fucking tired.

Piotr notices the change in your sleeping habits. Because of course he does. It’s ingrained into his very DNA to be an observant, loving nurturer.

He brings it up during dinner one night. “Are you doing alright, myshka?”

“What? Yeah. Of course.” You’d woken up from a nap a couple hours before, and you feel good for once. (You’ll crash a couple hours later.) “Why? What’s wrong?”

“You have been sleeping at odd hours,” Piotr says, stirring his soup with his spoon. “I just want to make sure you are not having mental troubles.”

“I’m fine, baby.” And, on that front, you are. You’ve got your meds, your support system, a home, creative outlets, and a fulfilling –if occasionally dangerous—job. “I’ve just been tired lately, is all. I think it’s the weird mission hours just putting my body clock out of whack.”

“You should try to stay on normal schedule, then,” Piotr points out. He frowns, concerned. “Is not good for mental health to keep odd hours.”

You bristle. You are trying, dammit. You push through training and grading and your obligations every single damn day, even if all you can do is collapse in bed afterwards. Who the hell is he to say that you’re not trying?! “I am, Piotr. You don’t have to micromanage me. I’m not one of your teens.”

Piotr recoils, blue eyes widening. He holds up his hands. “Easy, dorogoy. I am not trying to micromanage. I just want you to be healthy.”

You drop your gaze down to your bowl of soup. Your heart races in your throat. “Sorry.”

***

It’s like being one of those houses infested with termites. You’re being consumed from the inside out. On the outside, you look fine. On the inside, you’re crumbling away like a sad, dry cookie left in the bottom of the cookie jar for five long, lonely months.

You’ve always been weird. You oscillate between outgoing and reclusive like nobody’s business. You’re a lot like Wade –somewhere between amusing and a nuisance to most of the adults, though most of the teens and kids like you.

(Piotr insists that it’s not true, that everyone likes you well enough, but you’ve never quite had the full faith to believe him.)

No one notices that you’re hurting. No one notices that something’s wrong. No one notices, no one notices, no one fucking notices—

But, to be fair, you hardly notice it yourself.

***

You kind of start to lose your mind, if you’re being honest.

It’s hard enough to keep up with your workload with the mission scheduling –but being tired all the time slams the nail in the coffin. You manage to drag yourself to training on time because it’s mandatory, because it’s important, because it’s for the good of your team, and—

And everything else falls apart.

You spend countless late night hours on the couch cramming through your grading, because you needed to sleep earlier, and the deadline’s only looming closer, and you have to be productive, dammit—

More than once, you drag yourself up to bed when Piotr’s just getting up for the day.

He frowns, forehead creasing. “Myshka—”

“I had grading to do,” you mutter as you crawl back into bed.

He finishes buttoning up his shirt, then sits down next to you. The bedframe groans under his bulk. “This is not healthy, moya lyubov’.”

“I’m fucking working on it, Piotr!” you snap, glaring at your husband. “Just –leave me alone!”

He swallows hard, blue eyes shining with hurt. He looks like a kicked puppy.

You huff and slam your face into your pillow, mostly to hide the fact that you’re crying.

Piotr smooths your hair down, then kisses the back of your head. “Ya tebya lyublyu, myshka.”

You bite down on your pillow and cry harder.

***

It’s more than just being tired.

It’s guilt. It’s enough guilt to fill an ocean. No amount of effort you make is good enough; no matter how hard you try you wind up failing. Or snapping at someone you love. Or being unable to do even the simplest shit.

There’s so much anger, too. At the world, at anyone who points out that you’re not doing well, at yourself. There’s a scream constantly behind your lips, trying to crack its way out of your chest.

You’re failing. You’re trying to scoop up handfuls of sand to keep an entire dune from consuming you, and the grains keep running through your fingers; it practically looks like you haven’t done anything at all, and you’re so fucking tired…

***

The ‘house’ collapses over a load of dishes.

One load of fucking dishes.

It’s ridiculous.

You manage to drag yourself out of bed one morning, trying to get the haze that seems to be a permanent fixture in your mind to clear. You trudge downstairs, energy sapping out of you with every step you take.

You see last night’s dishes in the sink, waiting to be rinsed and loaded into the dishwasher.

It’s an easy task. The dishes aren’t all that dirty, and there aren’t that many of them.

And you can’t do it. You don’t have the energy. You’re just too fucking tired.

You failed.

You crumple to the floor, weeping against the wooden floorboards as the dam you’d been trying so hard to keep stable gives way. You scream, anger and guilt and frustration and self-loathing washing over you, crushing you beneath their weight. You clutch at your hair, seething as the past few months finally come to a head—

And then Piotr’s arms are around you. (Later, you’ll learn that he stopped back at the house to pick up a gradebook, which is why he was even around during the day in the first place.) He scoops you up, cradling you against his chest. “Myshka, what’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

You sob into his shirt, beyond words.

“Okay, okay.” He checks you over to make sure you’re not visibly injured, then carries you upstairs to bed.

You whimper when he tries to tuck you in. “No –I’ve got stuff to do—”

“It can wait,” he says, loving but firm. He gently tugs the comforter over you, then toes his shoes off before laying down next to you.

“It can’t,” you cry, even as he tugs you into his arms and tucks you against his chest. “It’s already waited for so long.”

“And it can wait longer.” He kisses your forehead. “It is okay, myshka. Rest.”

You snuffle and sob and gasp—

And, eventually, you fall asleep.

***

You wake up to Piotr stroking your hair. You inhale sharply, blinking to cast the bleariness out of your vision. “What time is it?”

“About noon,” he says.

Your heart sinks. “Shit. I’ve got grading—”

He places his arm over your waist, holding you in place. “It can wait.”

“But—”

“You had breakdown this morning, myshka. Health comes first.” He gazes into your eyes, brow furrowing. “Talk to me, moya lyubov. Please. What is wrong?”

Your heart rips into infinitesimal pieces at seeing him so worried –and then you start crying again. “I can’t…” You squeeze your eyes shut and buy your face against his chest. “I can’t. I can’t do it. No matter how much sleep I get, or I don’t get, or how much I exercise or don’t exercise, or what I eat or –any of it. I’m so tired, Piotr.” You let out a choked sob. “I’m just so tired, and I keep failing—”

Piotr rubs your back and kisses the top of your head. “It’s okay, myshka. It’s okay.”

***

Eventually, you settle again. You’re snuggled against Piotr’s chest, sniffling and sighing while he strokes your hair.

It’s not a bad place to bed.

“How long?” he asks, voice quiet and gentle. “How long have you felt tired?”

“I don’t know,” you mutter, lulled to a state of near drowsiness by his ministrations. “A few months? Maybe a little longer? I’ve always been kind of tired, what with anxiety and nightmares and all that shit.”

He ‘hmms,’ kissing the top of your head. “Have you eaten yet?”

“…does leftover pizza at three in the morning count?”

He sighs, exasperated and amused. “Okay, time for food.”

“I can’t,” you whimper, tears coming back as frustration swells in your chest. “I’m too tired to eat.”

Piotr shushes you, gently drying your cheeks with a tissue. “What if I bring you something?”

You stomach churns with guilt and self-loathing. “I’m not a baby. I don’t… I shouldn’t need people to make food for me.”

“No, not baby,” Piotr agrees, kissing your cheek. “But you are unwell.”

“I’m not sick!”

“Unwell is unwell,” Piotr states, voice brokering no room for debate (though it never loses that gentle intonation of his). “If I bring you food, will you eat?”

You hesitate, then manage a small nod. “Something small, please. I don’t want, like, a whole meal.”

Piotr nods. He heads downstairs, then returns a few minutes later with some toast, fruit, a glass of milk –and some Cheetos.

You giggle when you see the fluorescent orange cheese-snacks on your plate. “You do love me.”

“Navsegda.” He hands the plate to you, sets the glass on your nightstand, then waits for you to start in on your toast before speaking again. “I think you should see Dr. Mccoy about fatigue.”

“But I’m not sick,” you argue after swallowing a bite of toast.

“That you know of,” he corrects. “Lots of things can cause fatigue. Is best to check, to make sure more serious problem is not happening.”

“But…” A lump rises in your throat. “What if this is just me now? What if… what if I’m just broken?”

Piotr takes your hand in his. He presses his lips against your knuckles. “Then we know, and we make life suited to your brokenness.”

“I can’t slow everyone down, Piotr,” you insist. Your eyes burn with unshed tears. “I can’t –I can’t be a burden. It’s not fair to everyone else if I’m getting some sort of special treatment because I’m tired.”

“You are not burden,” Piotr declares, gaze boring into yours. “You are never burden. Understand?”

“Piotr—”

“Things happen, myshka. Sometimes, our bodies just… do not work right anymore. You still deserve comfortable, happy life. Nothing is unfair about that. Nothing.” He kisses the back of your hand again when you sigh, then pats your leg. “Finish eating. We go to doctor afterwards.”

***

The only way out is through.

Who would’ve guessed.

***

Dr. McCoy runs a series of comprehensive tests. Thyroid, allergy, iron deficiencies, vitamin deficiencies, glucose levels—

It comes back negative. All of it.

On one hand, it’s a good thing, given that you don’t have some sort of life-threatening condition that needs treating.

On the other hand, you just feel worse. It’s like proof that you have no excuse, that you’re tired for no reason, and that you just need to try harder.

“You are trying,” Piotr says when you admit as much. He draws you into a hug and kisses the top of your head. “We just need to find tools so that trying isn’t so hard.”

“What if there’s nothing?” you ask in a horrified whisper. “What if we try everything and nothing works?”

He kisses the top of your head again. “Then that is okay, too. However you are is okay, myshka.”

***

“How’s the tai chi going?”

You shrug. “It’s fine.” Nathan had switched you over to low impact exercise the second he got wind of your fatigue issues. “Wade likes to do it with me; we like to try and incorporate lame dance moves into our sets to see if Nathan’ll catch us doing it.”

Alyssa chuckles and shakes her head. “And does he?”

“He definitely did when Wade started doing the worm.”

The two of you laugh together.

“And how’s your task setting going?” Alyssa asks when you both settle back down. She grins when you scowl. “Ooh, I knew that’d be your reaction. I knew you were not going to like it one bit. You keep trying to eat the whole whale, sweetheart. You’re gonna choke!”

“I know, I know.” You sigh, frustrated and dejected in equal measure. “It’s just… hard. I used to be able to do so much more. And now –it’s like my body was stolen away from me.”

“I know, sweetheart. And I’m so sorry. But it’s important that you learn to readjust your scope for what’s reasonable and what’s not. Otherwise, you’re gonna keep spinning yourself in anxious circles –and you’re gonna keep making the fatigue worse by overworking yourself.”

You groan and rub at your face with your hands. “It just… it feels wrong! Like I’m being lazy! I don’t have a reason to be so tired.”

“Sure you do,” Alyssa says, as if it’s that simple. “Your body is healing. You spent a lifetime being traumatized and abused. Your body put itself on hold to help keep you alive. You’ve dealt with your anxiety, depression, and trauma to the point where you’re stable, so now all those years of stress and pain are finally catching up. This is your body’s way of saying ‘hey, it’s my turn!’ So, now you need to listen to it.”

“But what if I don’t get better?” you ask, voice fraying. “What if I’m like this forever?”

She shrugs, tucking her braids over her shoulder. “That could happen; the amount of trauma you went through would be more than enough to result in a permanent presentation of chronic fatigue syndrome. But it could also get better, too. There’s no point in trying to predict the outcome.”

“But if I don’t get better, I’ll have to step down from being an X-Man.”

“There is more to this life than being an X-Man, honey,” Alyssa says, smiling warmly at you. “You have an entire world to discover. You just might have to do it at a different pace than everyone else. Your goal isn’t to get back to being an X-Man. Your goal is to take care of yourself.”

You tuck your knees under your chin and wrap your arms around your legs. “That doesn’t feel like enough.”

“How come?”

“Because it’s me. I have to do more to make up for the fact that it’s me.”

Alyssa points her pen at you. “That’s the anxiety and depression talking. You are more than enough, just as you are. Your worth is not based on your productivity or what you can offer to society. It’s based on your existence as a human being, that’s all.”

You drop her gaze, opting to look down at the ornate, ocean blue rug she keeps in her office instead.

“I want you to keep working on adjusting your goal setting,” Alyssa says as she jots down a few notes in your file. “Three things a day, whether it’s chore, work, or self-care related. Nothing else goes on that list unless you need to remember to do it, like taking your meds. Okay?”

You mutter your assent.

“Attagirl. I also want you to do your positive affirmations. Three times a day, plus whenever you get caught in negative thought patterns.”

You groan and slump down on the couch. “No! Positive affirmations suck!”

“They’re wonderful,” Alyssa fires back, chuckling. “They’re so good for you, so good for your brain…” She laughs when you retch, then closes your file and stands. “Alright, sweetheart. Keep at it. I’ll see you next week.”

Piotr looks up when you walk out of Alyssa’s office. “All done?”

“She’s making me do more positive affirmations,” you grumble (you can hear Alyssa laugh at your admission).

“Ah, is good for you,” Piotr says as he ushers you down the hall. “Good to say truth out loud.”

You retch again. “Not you, too. I need to go find Wade. He’ll understand.”

Your husband chuckles and shakes his head. “Come on, myshka. Back home with you.”

“Why does it have to be so far?” you groan. “It’s so much walking.”

“Are you feeling tired?”

You sigh. “Honestly, yeah. I’m really wiped out.”

Piotr puts an arm around your shoulder in a one-armed hug. “I am sorry, moya lyubov’. Would you like me to carry you?”

“I shouldn’t need carrying.”

Piotr stops. He cups your face in his massive hands, making you look up at him. “Is not about ‘should’ or ‘should not.’ If your body needs help, then you need help.”

You hesitate, but ultimately nod. “Yeah. I’d be nice if you carried me.”

He nods. He waits until you two are outside, then kneels so you can clamber on his back. “Hop on, myshka.”

You loop your arms around his neck. You wait until he has his arms looped around your legs, then point in the direction of your house. “Home, Jeeves.”

Piotr chuckles. “I am transport service, now?”

“Damn right.” You gently slap his burly chest. “Mush. I want Poptarts.”

Piotr laughs again, then sets off across the lawn.

***

You’re not alright. Not technically. Alyssa’s right that you’ve been hurt. Healing takes time, and you’re just beginning your journey.

But you’ve got Piotr. Your family. Your friends. You’ve got Dr. McCoy and Alyssa as professional support. You have a home to rest in when you’re weary.

You’re okay –and on the days that you’re not, you will be.

And that’s more than enough.

#sass writes #piotr rasputin x reader #colossus x reader #*sighs*#well this happened #tw: anxiety #tw: depression #tw: chronic fatigue #not technically canon to the series #the author needed some catharsis #angst #hurt comfort #deadpool fanfiction #x men fanfiction

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n-ctarinenga · 4 years

Text

Flower Boy [ boxer!calum ]

flower boy series | pt.1 | word count: 5,659 | masterlist

"Thank you so much! I'll have these to you as soon as possible. Goodbye!"

Talia grins, as she farewells the family whos portraits she had just finished shooting.

As much as she loves photography, there were only so many matching outfits and unhappy children a person could handle in a day, and with the family that had just left her studio, Talia had reached her limit.

Draining days were something she had gotten used to, business booming lately thanks to the kind words of a handful of past clients. With doors only opening just under a year ago, Valentine Studios didn't exactly have the longest history in town, but Talia liked to believe her dedication and skill made up for lack of experience.

Her mother hadn't really approved of the move, her ideals for her daughter being stuck a few decades in the past.

With the thought of her mother flashing through her mind, Talia couldn't help but sigh as she moved to pack up her camera for the night.

After the great disbandment of the Alisley family, it was nearly impossible for either of the Alisley children to communicate with their mother, but that didn't stop Yvonne from making her annual call to her kids, mostly about the percentage paid out to them every couple weeks from their father's estate royalties, which in Talia's case, was this morning.

From that point onward, it felt like the universe had decided to torment Talia today.

Starting off with the phone call, and most recently manifesting as a set of twins who refused to do any form of posing with their parents, Talia couldn't wait to go home and sleep so she could start the next day fresh and away from the negative vibes of the current day.

Once her backdrops had been rolled up, and her camera was safely stored in its bag, Talia finally had time to let down her dark brown hair, the two bright streaks of red framing her face. She took great pleasure in turning all the lights off, and locking the door of the studio behind her.

Taking a second to relax in her car, Talia looks at her phone, scrolling through til she reaches the contact of her brother, Brandon.

The Alisley family were estranged from each other these days, but that didn't mean that Talia and Brandon had stopped being lifelong best friends.

The two had always been close, only a couple years between the siblings. Growing up in a world surrounded by adults until they themselves were well into their teens, they were practically a package deal until they had both moved into their own apartments a few years ago.

As of late, while Talia was diving head first into Valentine, Brandon was knee deep in The Vault, the gym he had started not long before Talia opened her own business.

Sitting in her car, Talia contemplated calling him for a moment, her finger hovering over the call button as she thought.

With both of them being so busy, they had barely had time to catch up over the last couple months, and after the day she had had today, Talia needed a bit of chill time with the only other person in the world who could understand her situation.

Their father always joked they could communicate telepathically, and after not seeing him for so long, Talia missed speaking her native tongue.

Deciding to make her way over to the gym, Brandon always telling her he was there any Friday night she would try to make plans with him lately, Talia constructed a plan for what she would do once she finally had convinced her brother to stop throwing himself into his work every Friday night.

With The Vault situated downtown, it was a bit of a drive in Los Angeles traffic, but with the thought of the Thai food just up the street from the gym in her mind, Talia couldn't find it in herself to care about the lengthy journey.

The radio softly played one of the many playlists made on Talia's phone as she drove along, windows down and the breeze lightly whipping her hair around as she did her best to relax while she had the chance.

While most people were finishing their work week, Talia, being the head photographer at Valentine, was still one day away from her own weekend, working every Saturday since the studio opened. This made it easier for families to get together for their shoots, not having to worry about getting back to work and getting the kids back to school, and Talia could tell her clients appreciated it, which made the extra day of work worth it to her.

Propping her head up, with her left elbow resting on the top of the door, Talia can't help the frown that flashes onto her face as she approaches the gym.

Expecting to see only Brandon's car and maybe another employee's, the full parking lot beside the building confuses her. How many people would be at a gym after hours?

The confused frown on Talia's face lingers as she parks her car next one she definitely recognised as Brandon's, climbing out and locking it before pocketing her keys and approaching a man who looked slightly familiar, noticing he was one of Brandon's employees as she got closer.

"Johnny," Talia smiles politely, the man turning to her with wide eyes as he recognizes her, "what's happening here?" She asks.

Johnny stutters for a moment, looking around like he rather be anywhere else in the world at this exact moment.

"Oh, here? Just some regulars here for a get together. Your brother left a few hours back though." He says quickly, tripping over his words slightly, almost like he was making a story up as he went along.

Suspicion courses through Talia at the deflective words of the man much taller than she is, and if she didn't already know him, she probably would have been intimidated by his size alone.

"I just parked next to his car though, and it's kinda odd for Brandon to leave the gym open." Talia laughs awkwardly, not trusting of the excuse she was being given when she knew her brother better than to leave not only his business open, but also his car unlocked outside it.

"I think I'll just check things out for myself thanks Johnny." Talia states, before taking a step forward towards the entrance.

Sensing her disbelief, and his face turning to one of panic, Johnny takes a step sideways, blocking the door from Talia's path.

"Brandon said that you were banned from Friday nights. I'm sorry Talia." He finally says, and Talia can't help the look of surprise that covers her face.

"Me? Banned from the Vault? I hardly think so mate." She laughs, taking advantage of the height difference between them to duck under Johnny's arm, easily pushing the door open into the gym.

Immediately, Talia is met with a wall of noise.

A crowd, some seated, some not, surround the central boxing ring at the center of the building. The usual smell of cleaning supplies and sweat is amplified by the stench of beer radiating through the whole building, but even then, the thing that grabs Talia's attention isn't the crowd or their behavior, but instead, what they're watching.

In the center of the ring, two large, well built men circle each other. Talia watches on in horror for only a moment before one man launches his fist forward towards the others stomach, and it's in this moment she realizes that the men aren't wearing gloves, but thin bloodied wraps.

The crowd roar with a wave of life as the punch connects, the second man doubling over and leaving himself exposed to an onslaught the first delivers without hesitation.

Even with the presence of Johnny behind her, the only thing Talia can see is the pure violence playing out in front of her, realization growing by the second as her eyes finally break away from the ring to where her brother stands at the back of the crowd.

She can't help but think her father might have been right about the telepathy, because almost as if he could sense her eyes on him, Brandon's own find her.

All of the colour drains from Brandon's face as he excuses himself from the black haired man he's talking to, running around the outside of the crowd to reach his sister, who stands frozen in place.

He says nothing as he grabs Talia's hand, pulling her sideways into the office room to the right of the building, easily tugging her past the back of the crowd that still stare focused into the ring.

The clinical white lights above them come to life as Brandon flicks the switch beside the door, shutting it behind him quickly before he turns back to Talia.

"What are you doing here?" He asks quickly, inspecting her as if she was a wounded animal ready to pounce.

Fighting her disbelief at the situation and his question, Talia's eyes go wide as a wave of anger washes over her at his question.

"What am I doing here? What the fuck is that shit, Brandon?!" She throws back at him, her voice louder and stronger than she expected it to come out of her.

Waving his hands panicked, trying to get her to lower her voice, Brandon tries to shush her, which only makes her more ticked off.

"Look you weren't supposed to see that-"

"Answer my fucking question or I'll start screamin' it." She threatens, cutting him off mid sentence.

An angry and frustrated expression settles on his face as Brandon let's out a huff, not knowing how to word his explanation and remaining silent while he tries to find the right words.

"Is this why you've been blowing me off for months? You got some fucking fight club bullshit going on here instead?" She questions further, her voice breaking slightly with stress.

"I can't tell you all the fucking details in one breath, Talia. I wasn't exactly expecting you to find out like this."

Brandon argues, throwing his hand up in annoyance, which only confuses her more.

"What makes you think you have the right to be angry at me when you're the one that has the explaining to do?"

"Fuck! Alright! I get it!" He whisper yells harshly, face twisting in anger and making the siblings look even more alike than usual, Talia taking a step back at his sudden outburst, "look, the money is gonna get cut off one day, I'm thinking about my future, OUR futures here. That's what this shit is about."

"And what exactly is this shit, Brandon?" Talia asks, aggressively pointing towards the door that barely separated them from the crowd.

"It's boxing. Same shit you see on TV, just, not as commercial."

"This isn't the same shit as on TV! Those guys aren't even wearing gloves!" She argues, smacking the back of her hand as she speaks.

"Bare knuckle and wraps get better bets, the guys make their own decisions on if they do it or not." Brandon defends as he crosses his arms.

Talia shakes her head in annoyance, her face twisting. Everything was happening so quickly, meaning she barely had enough time to process all the information being thrown at her.

"You're scared of mommy cutting off the royalties so this is what you do instead?" She asks.

"The money is gonna get cut off and it's gonna be sooner rather than later. Do you expect me to suck up forever? To hide Sam til she dies too? Mom hates both of us now and you know it just as well as I do."

Talia feels her throat tighten at his words. Her stomach felt like it was close to emptying its content as the gut punch of his words hit her at a hundred miles per hour.

"Shut the fuck up. You know I love Sam and you know I don't want to do it just as much as you don't want to. But you're right, it will be sooner if she finds out about this." She spits back.

Taking a step towards him, arms crossed, Talia holds steady eye contact as she looks up to her brother.

"You're not the only one she can fuck over. When she finds out and cuts me off too, what the fuck are we gonna do, huh?" She whispers harshly as the crowd outside the room bursts into life again, the next round starting.

Brandon breaks the eye contact between them as he stares at the ground, fists clenched at his sides as the obvious stress of the situation flashes across his face.

"She won't, not yet."

Talia rolls her eyes as her arms uncross, leaning back against his desk.

"Mom always finds out."

"She won't this ti-"

Brandon is interrupted by the office door swinging open, a tall man with blonde hair and a panicked look on his face ignoring Talia to address Brandon the second his eyes land on him.

"Hood's broken Knight's nose." He says in a rush, causing Brandon to groan, following the man out the door before turning back to Talia.

"Don't leave this office, I'll be back soon."

Talia throws her brother a sarcastic thumbs up before he rushes off, the door clicking shut behind him.

Talia felt like her mind was in the worst spin she'd ever experienced. Finally the late nights, the astronomical bills being excused as gym costs, the secrets, they all made sense.

As angry as she was with her brother, she was more worried about him than anything.

Seeing the crowd, the action in the ring, it was more than just the sparring she would see from time to time as she made the rounds to check in on things. These people were out for blood, and would throw as much money as they needed at it to make it happen. This wasn't the kind of thing she ever expected Brandon to be involved in, and it shocked her that he's involved in that world obviously as more than just a spectator.

Sitting down in the office chair, Talia rests her elbows on the desk in front of her, covering her face with her hands as she tries to take a deep breath to calm her nerves, but jumping as the crowd outside roars again.

This wasn't something she was familiar with, and the uncharted territory this laid out in front of her felt like a minefield. Both her brother's lies, and the violence they were hiding.

With her anxiety peaking as she sits deep in her thoughts, she nearly yelps as the office door flies open, a tall man coming in and looking around for someone, before their eyes finally land on Talia.

If the sharp jawline, dark eyes and deadly look on his face didn't take her breath away, the ripped and bruised skin under his eye sure did.

A seemingly permanent scowl was set on the man's face, and his height and all black outfit just added to the intimidating stance he has as he lets the door swing shut behind him.

Talia couldn't help but notice that the man is attractive, even with blood dripping down his face, noticing his hair closely cropped to his head, apart from the wild bleached curls that fell onto his forehead.

For a brief moment, the angry look on the man's face softens upon seeing the smaller woman sitting behind his boss's desk, but it's instantly replaced by a look of confusion.

"Who the fuck are you?" He asks, his voice deeper than she expected with an unfamiliar accent laced into his words.

Slightly taken back, Talia frowns, withdrawing from the desk and standing up behind it, her defensive nature quickly taking over.

"I'm Talia Alisley, who the fuck are you?"

This time it's the man that's taken back, his eyebrows shooting up as he scoffs, arrogance in spades and tension building by the second as Talia crosses her arms in front of herself.

"I'm Calum Hood," He says, and Talia freezes.

Hood. Was he the Hood that the blonde man was talking about? The one who apparently had broken the nose of the guy Brandon was checking on?

"and I'm guessing you're the precious little sister." He comments, and this time it's Talia that raises her eyebrow. Did Brandon mention her to these guys?

"Too right I am, so don't fuck with me and we should be fine. Brandon said he'd be back soon." She replies, sitting back down with her arms still crossed and the scowl on her face settling in while in his presence.

Deep down, Talia knew it was probably a bad idea to piss off the guy who was not only bleeding, but the cause of a broke nose two rooms over, but her pride and defensive nature was far more powerful than the anxiety swirling in her stomach.

"No need to worry about that, princess." Calum rolls his eyes in annoyance. If Brandon was gonna send him to his office, he could at least show up instead of wasting his time, and give him a warning.

Talia was thankful in that moment for the low light of the room on account of the desk lamp being off, hiding the blush that made her ears burn. Yeah, he might be a dickhead, but he was still an attractive dickhead.

Slumping down into the chair opposite Talia with a huff, Calum shakes his head, while Talia stays stone faced across from him.

"You alright?" She asks after a moment, referring to where blood still sits on his cheekbone.

Calum frowns at her attitude change, not aware of the injury that he sustained from Knight's ringed hand landing a right hook before Calum landed his own.

In his defense, Knight should have known better than to touch his gear.

With the confused look flashing across his face for a longer period this time, Talia can't help but roll her eyes.

"You're bleeding under your eye, bro." She points out.

As Calum reaches up to touch his cheek, the door opens, the blonde man from before walking in with Brandon in toe as Talia thanks her lucky stars.

"Not gonna lie I thought you would have left by now." Brandon says, looking at Talia first while her eyes stay on the actions of the blonde man opening a medical kit on the desk.

"Oh don't worry, I want to." She comments.

"So do I, can I go now?" Calum directs towards Brandon as the blonde man touches an alcohol wipe to his cheek, making his aggressive expression falter slightly.

"Once Luke says you're okay and once I've dealt with you, yes." He sighs, rubbing a hand over his face.

"Look," Talia says, standing up and holding her hands up in surrender, "obviously you've got a lot of shit going on here right now so we'll deal with this tomorrow." She gestures between them, walking around the desk and past the three men.

Letting out a sigh, Brandon sends her a look of appreciation.

"Thanks T, text me when you get home." He replies, to which she sends him a short nod.

"Luke, can you walk her out?" He asks, turning to the man getting up from kneeling in front of Calum.

"Yeah, no worries." He smiles, taking his gloves off and throwing them in the bin.

Walking out the door with Luke, Talia winces at the loudness of the crowd, thankful for the taller, now calm, man standing between them and herself.

"I'm Luke, by the way." He smiles kindly, holding his hand out for Talia to shake as they make it to the door.

"Talia. Gotta be honest, I wish this was under better circumstances." She smiles tightly back at him, shaking his hand.

"Yeah," he laughs, "me too."

As they make it outside, Talia leads Luke around the building to where her car sits, right next to Brandon's.

"Well, this is me." She says, signalling to her car with the keys in her hand. "Thanks for walking me past all of that."

"No problem. Drive safe." Luke says with a small wave to her, and she gives him an appreciative smile.

"You too. See you 'round, Luke."

Climbing into her car, Talia sighs, relaxing only slightly in the familiar surroundings.

As she pulls away from the curb, Luke sends her a final wave before walking back into the gym.

Driving away, the adrenaline of the situation starts to wear off, and the reality of the situation starts to sink in.

"God, I'm gonna fucking kill him." Talia mutters to herself, turning the radio up and going over the night's events in her head as she drives back to her apartment.

The next morning, Talia awakes with a rock of dread weighing down her stomach.

Her mind immediately flashes back to the events of the night before, and as she showers, gets dressed and locks her apartment door, it almost felt like she wore the dread of the impending conversation she needed to have with her brother as a scarf tied too tightly around her neck.

Instead of heading straight to the studio and editing the photos of the last few days as usual, Talia instead took a deep breath as she started heading back towards Vault, having a couple hours to hopefully get answers before her first clients for the day were set to arrive at eleven.

The parking lot beside Vault sat a lot emptier today. Only a handful of cars sprinkled around, and just like last night, Talia pulls into the space beside Brandon's car.

Taking a moment before walking in, Talia leans back in her seat, closing her eyes.

She was scared. Of Brandon's explanation, of possibly having to accept whatever the fuck she had witnessed last night, of walking out more confused than she was about to walk in.

Her and Brandon had grown up play fighting, and catching an odd round or two when their dad decided to watch Friday Fight Night, but violence had never really been part of their lives in a physical form. Apart from a questionable wrestling phase when she was 14, Talia couldn't even remember the last time she saw two people in a ring together that wasn't casual sparring when she would frequent the gym in its early days.

None of it compared to what she saw last night.

With what happened still fresh in her mind, Talia climbs out of her car, pushing the door shut behind her.

Johnny doesn't stand by the entrance this morning, meaning Talia easily walks into the gym, the door squeaking slightly in protest as she pushes it open.

It's almost like nothing had even happened. All the equipment that was pushed against a wall last night now sits in its normal place, the shelves of alcohol behind the check in desk now stocked with protein powders like less than twelve hours ago the counter wasn't a very convincing bar.

Hearing her come in the door, a couple people look up from what they're doing, sending Talia a polite smile before returning to their work.

Calum Hood is not one of these people.

Almost like the universe had put a glowing neon sign over his head, Talia's eyes instantly wander towards where Calum stands next to the black haired man she recognized as the same person Brandon was talking to last night when she arrived.

Noticing her too, Calum’s encouragement of his best friend is interrupted by his eyes catching a flash of blue hair in his peripheral vision.

While he knew any animosity towards the woman who could probably have him fired with a few fake tears was a bad idea to hold onto, he couldn't help but feel annoyed upon seeing her in what he thought of as his domain.

Face settling into a frown as she looks across the room to the man who easily got on her nerves last night, Talia almost doesn't notice Brandon coming up behind her.

"Hey." He greets quietly, holding a takeaway cup of coffee out to his sister. "Time for that talk, huh?"

"Yeah. Think so." She takes the coffee with a nod of thanks, and hesitantly follows him to his office.

Talia couldn't tell if Brandon was trying to suck up to her with free coffee, but after sitting down at the chair in front of his desk and taking a sip, tasting vanilla latte, she knows he is.

"So, where should we start?" He asks, settling into his seat with a heavy sigh.

Talia scoffs lightly, raising her eyebrow.

"The beginning would be good."

Brandon nods, looking down at his desk to avoid meeting her eyes.

"The fights started around one, maybe two months after we opened, so we've been hosting them for about fourteen months now."

Talia's eyes go wide, disbelief covering her face as she places her cup on his desk forcefully.

"You're telling me you've been hiding this shit for over a year?" She asks, anger already starting to build.

"Yeah, and if you haven't fucking noticed, it's not been the easiest thing to do." He snaps, before holding his hands up, taking a deep breath and rolling his seat back slightly to calm himself, too much tension already in the air.

Talia bites her tongue, looking down at her hands before she signals to him to continue.

"A friend of mine, Ashton, he was part of an illegal boxing league running out of a rundown place up in Hollywood. I saw him fight there a couple times, saw the conditions myself. The guy running the show was a complete asshole to his guys, but they all needed the money, so they stuck around." He explains, voice quieter than before.

"One night we got to talking. I asked Ash if he thought we might be able to make our own ring, give people a safer place to earn their money. Then we figured out how much we could earn from it, and with shit going so wrong with mom, I figured that if she pulled the rug out from under me, I could use the league as a safety net."

Piecing together the timeline in her head, and doing the best to absorb the information given to her, Talia remains silent and slowly nods along when needed.

"Him and I have built this thing from the ground up, and it's working for us. I manage the books, he manages the guys, and we take care of the admin together. With my connections to the rich assholes who have more money than they know what to do with, and with Ashton's connection to the guys who need that money and want to do it, we're doing really, really well, Talia."

This time it's Talia who avoids eye contact, looking down to her shoes as she curses the logical side of her brain for seeing sense in his story.

"How many people do you have fighting for you?" She asks.

Brandon let's out a heavy breath, waving his hand slightly.

"Around twenty, twenty five. We keep the doors open for the more occasional guy who needs the cash that week."

"And how often are the nights like last night happening?"

"Weekly. Every Friday, normally."

Seeing the hesitation on her face, bottom lip pulled between her teeth, Brandon sits forward to bring her attention to him, her eyes flicking up to meet his.

"I know this is a lot, and I don't expect you to be okay with it, but I do want you to know I'm being smart about this."

Talia sighs, taking a sip of her drink before speaking.

"I know you, so I don't doubt it. It's just so dangerous, Brandon. You can't expect me not to be worried about you."

Brandon laughs lightly, trying to lift the mood slightly.

"I would never expect you not to worry. It's not in your nature."

A small smile tugs at the corners of Talia's lips, and it's enough to ease his mind.

"Anything you want to know about the ring, the business, any of it, I'll answer as best as I can. I trust you more than anyone and I want to do everything I can to make you feel okay with this, and make up for holding it from you."

Talia hazards a look to her brother, seeing on his face that he's been open and honest with her.

"You know I always ask too many questions." She smiles, joking lightly as she referenced something she would hear almost daily from her mother growing up.

Brandon shakes his head as he laughs, taking a sip of his own drink.

"If you get too much for me, I'll just pass you on to Ashton. It's what normally happens around here." He shrugs slightly, before tilting his head.

"Actually, do you want to meet him? He should be around out there." He asks, and Talia mulls the idea over for a moment before agreeing. After all, it would probably be best to know who she would castrate if something happened to Brandon.

"Sure, might as well." She agrees, downing the last of her drink and tossing her cup into the small recycling bin under his desk.

Standing up and following Brandon out of his office, Talia can feel her nerves already starting to act up, and does her best to shove them down as she follows him towards the bench press where the black haired man who she now assumed was Ashton, and Calum stood.

"Hey, guys. I got someone for you to meet." Brandon says, catching their attention as they approach.

Ashton sends her a warm smile as she steps out from behind Brandon, which is a nice contrast from the cold glare Calum sends her way, which she ignores to return the smile instead.

"Ashton, Calum, this is my sister, Talia. Talia, this is the demon on my shoulder Ash, and my blue rock em sock em man Calum."

"We've met." Calum says bluntly, while Ashton raises his eyebrow.

"And we haven't. Nice to meet you, I assure you Brandon's told us nothing but good things." Ashton grins, holding his hand out for her to shake.

Talia takes his hand and can't help but notice how strong his grip is without what looks like any effort, and laughs lightly.

"I'd hope so, but I can't promise my staff have heard the same about him. It's nice to meet you too." She returns, letting her hand drop to her side before she acknowledges the man beside him.

"And yeah, charmed." Talia prods lightly, seeing Calum trying to hide the roll of his eyes from Brandon.

"Talia is gonna be spending more time around, getting to know the workings when she can. I said if she annoys me too much I'm gonna pass her on to you, so fair warning." Brandon informs them, tapping Ashton's arm as he directs his sentence to him.

"Fantastic." Talia hears Calum mutter, not loud enough for the other two to hear it, but just enough that she does.

This time, it's Talia that rolls her eyes at Calum.

As conversation is made, Calum can't help but feel hyper aware of Talia, and the sun shining in from the high windows casting sunbeams through the few red hairs that fell out of her bun and framed her face delicately. He would admit that Talia was pretty, beautiful even, but not audibly, especially not in front of the girl who felt no hesitation in sending him a death glare every few minutes.

The small group spend ten or so minutes talking with each other before Talia's phone rings, letting her know she should start making her way to the studio.

"Looks like I should be getting to work." Talia says, slipping her phone back into her pocket.

"What do you do, if you don't mind me asking?" Ashton inquiries, genuine interest in his tone, making her see why Brandon was such a fan of him.

Talia believed she could read people well, and from her first impression of Ashton, she got nothing but good vibes.

"I'm a photographer, I own my own studio called Valentine." She smiles proudly, and Ashton nods his head in approval.

"My girlfriend works just down the road from you I think! It's not far from Dominion Books, right?"

Pleasant surprise spreads across Talia's face as she nods, happy to have found a common link.

"Yeah! I think I might have seen you there in passing now I think about it." She smiles.

Brandon watches on with joy as he sees both Talia and Ashton getting along, so happy about it in fact that he didn't even notice Calum looking like he would rather be anywhere else in the world.

Talia says her goodbyes to the men before turning to leave, her attention being called back before she makes it too far.

"If you ever need a fill in hunk for a photo shoot, you know who to call." Ashton jokes, sending a wink in her direction.

"Yeah, you can get your brother to pass you my number any time." Calum says sarcastically, surprising her but also making her scoff as she takes a few steps backwards before turning around.

"In your dreams, darlin'." She calls over her shoulder.

As the door swings shut behind her, Calum feels like his feet are glued to the floor, the eyes of his best friend burning into him as Brandon excuses himself to mock throw up against the wall.

"What's that all about between you two?" Ashton asks Calum quietly, picking up his water bottle as Calum picks up his own, holding it up and speaking casually before taking a sip.

"No idea what you're talking about mate."

TAGLIST | @spicycal @calmlftv @irwinkitten @mrandleer @candidcal @lukeskisses @wallflowercal @brooklynsninenine @whereveryouares @everyscarisahealingplace

#calum hood #calum hood fanfic #calum hood imagine #5 seconds of summer #5 seconds of summer fanfic #5 seconds of summer imagine #5 seconds of summer blurb #5sos #5sos fanfic

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stressedkitkatttt · 4 years

Text

You’re Beautiful

Okay, so an Erick story wasn't even on my list to do, but this request is coming before any of the other stories. So first off, happy early birthday to your friend! Lucky duck, my birthday is still two months away... Secondly, this fic contains dark themes, such as mentions of rape and attempted suicide. If any of these things are triggering to you, or you can't handle these types of things, please do not read this story.

If you, or someone you know, has been through a traumatic event, is contemplating suicide, or anything of the sort, I recommend you check out this post here - Helplines. I want my viewers to know that I do care about you, even if we don't know each other. You all matter. I have been through some shit and I know how much it can mean for someone to just say that they care. I write stories to help deal with the stresses of life and to think that they may brighten some of your guy's day, it makes me even happier. You are all so strong and so beautiful.

Word Count: 3.1k (once I got into the feels, I stayed in the feels)

Warnings: the reader is a rape victim, reader has tried suicide(I don't go into detail about these things, but they are mentioned), PTSD/reader has nightmares, reader has a hard time accepting herself, Erick being a truly awesome human being, fluffy smut(it’s short but I hope the fluff makes up for it), I cried a little while writing this... I also got carried away but I am proud of it

Anon: Hi, can u make an Erick fanfic where the girl was a rape victim and she's like scared and self concouis, and then Erick help her. U know, something like a sweet fluffy smut. Its for a friend and her birthday is next week. Can u do it pls?.Ps Ilove u writing!😉❤️

DISCLAIMER: Do NOT think it is okay to take my stories and post them somewhere else without my EXPLICIT PERMISSION. Do NOT think it is okay to take anyone else's stories and post them somewhere else without their EXPLICIT PERMISSION. Giving credit does NOT count as permission. You may reblog my stories, you may NOT repost my stories without MY PERMISSION.

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

It's dark. The street lamps only light up so much of the street, and even less in the alleyways. You look around, seeing an empty street, a faint sound of a bass and music could be heard from a couple of blocks down. This place looks very familiar. You begin to walk down the sidewalk, towards the sound of the music, yet you soon notice that the sidewalk seems to stretch on and on. You continue to walk for what seems like hours and yet, the music stays the same distance, still faint and far away.

You try to move off of the sidewalk yet you can't, almost like an invisible force was keeping you there. As you continue to walk down the never-ending sidewalk, you pass the same alleyway that is pitch black, the light from the street lamps unable to penetrate the darkness after a certain point. The more you pass the alleyway, the more a growing fear settles beneath your skin. The feeling continues to grow, almost like you're being watched.

You keep walking, something compels you to look down the alleyways. At first, there was nothing but darkness in them. Then there was a faint silhouette that grew closer and closer to the entrance of the alley each time you passed it. You tried to turn around, to stop, to run, but you couldn't. You keep on walking, your heart is beating loudly and your fear clearly visible now. When arms as dark as onyx grab you and drag you into the dark abyss of the alley, you try to scream but nothing comes out.

You're slammed against a brick wall, knocking the wind from you, and you're stunned. Looking up, you catch a glimpse of the assailant. You could see his face clear as day despite the darkness. His dark eyes, his crinkled nose, his lips, which curled into a wicked grin as he held you down with ease. You try to call for help but his hand came down over your mouth, muffling any noise. You close your eyes as he slowly brings his head down and begins to whisper your name.

"Y/N. Y/N. Y/N!"

~~~

You open your eyes and scream, looking around wildly as the alleyway and the man fade from your vision and are replaced by a mutely-toned bedroom, dimly lit by a bedside lamp. Your boyfriend, Erick, was next to you on the side of the bed, gently calling out your name.

"Turn on the lights!" You gasp out and Erick quickly gets out of bed and runs to the light switch, turning on the bright lights. You look around the room once more, pinching your arm just to be sure that this isn't a dream. You begin to shake and a rush of emotion crashes over you, making you curl up into yourself and cry. Erick comes back over and places himself beside you, making sure he's not on top of you.

He lets you cry it out, feeling helpless as he watches you go through another episode. He wants to hold you in his arms but he also knows that it could make your episode worse. Some time passes and you finally stop crying and shaking, taking deep breaths and looking up at Erick. You almost throw yourself at him and he holds you against him, letting you cry a little more as he gently rocks you. Soon, you're relaxed and breathing in his scent. You finally pull away and look him in the eyes.

"Erick, I'm so sorry about -" You try to apologize but he cuts you off.

"You have nothing to be sorry for." He rests his forehead against yours, hands gently rubbing your back. You try to speak again but your voice fails you and you cough, the scream from earlier made your throat dry and raspy. "Want me to get you some water?" You nod and he gently lets you go, getting up and walking out into the hallway.

You grab some pillows and prop yourself up, thinking about the events still fresh in your mind. The man's face still haunted your vision years after the fact. Every time you closed your eyes, even to blink, you could still see his dark eyes and sick smile. It's crazy to think about how one person can ruin your life. Even though it happened a couple of years ago, the wounds are still fresh. And the PTSD nightmares seem to be like putting salt in the wounds like your mind doesn't want you to forget what happened. Though over the years you've been having fewer nightmares, it's something that will forever haunt you.

Your hand unconsciously runs up your wrist, feeling the scars, forever a reminder of the times you tried to end your pain. More tears prick your eyes just as Erick comes back with a glass of water. You take it from him and take small sips, the cold water feeling good against your throat. You place it on the nightstand when you're finished and you sit in silence with Erick. You scoot closer to him and he wraps his arms around you, pulling you close.

In the silence, you're brought down memory lane to the first time you met Erick. After the incident, it left you feeling hollow and emotionless, pulling you into a deep depression that you thought nothing could pull you out. Your parents had finally convinced you to go outside, just down to a small cafe where your best friend since kindergarten worked. It was the first place, besides your home, where you felt semi-safe. Though it would be a while before you felt safe going out in public again alone, it was a step in the right direction.

You remember you were scrolling through your phone that faithful day, wrapped up in a blanket when movement in front of you caught your eye and your head snapped up. Your best friend was standing in front of the table with a green-eyed stranger. Your friend introduced you to Erick, and at first, you were a little panicked. He asked if he could sit down and you didn't reply. Eventually, you gave a little nod and he grabbed a chair, sitting across from you. You both were silent. You kept your head low but your eyes were trained on him like a hawk.

He began to tell you about himself and what he did, what his hobbies were, and some crazy stories he had from traveling with his buddies. It got to the point where you were actually looking forward to going to the cafe. Even if you didn't talk, you grew to love his stories, his voice was very soothing and it made you relax for the first time in years. You were sad when he wasn't at the cafe, but when he came back, he had a ton of new stories to tell you. Eventually, he was able to sit next to you, showing you some photos of the places he traveled and funny videos.

Then one day, he was sharing a story about him and his buddy Chris doing something stupid when you looked up at him. He was deep into his storytelling, which was normal for him, and didn't notice your stare for a few minutes. When he did, he looked at you with a brow raised.

"Y/N." Your voice was so quiet, but the slight movement of your lips told him you had said something. He looked at you in shock, and even your friend from behind the counter had whipped their head around like they somehow had super-hearing and heard what they thought was their imagination. In the year since he was first introduced to you, you had never spoken a word to him. You took a deep breath in and spoke a little more clear. "My name is Y/N."

He was shocked and didn't say anything for a minute. When he finally got snapped from his trance, he smiled and reached out a hand, "I'm Erick." You looked at his hand for moments, silently making him second guess his choice to do that, before you took your own hand and gently shook his. And that was the moment you had formally introduced yourself. You remember going home that day with a small smile on your lips and your parents had broken down crying. You began to get more and more comfortable with him. He made you feel like you again.

And the rest is history, leading up to where you are now, smiling, wrapped up in the arms of the man that saved you. Erick looks down and notices the smile on your lips, making him smile in return.

"What are you thinking about amor?" He asks, gently running a hand through your hair.

"Oh, you know... Just the first time we met." You reply. Saying that out loud made you realize that you never really told Erick about what happened. Your friend had filled Erick in on a vague description of, "She's been in an accident, so just go slow." You had eventually told him what that accident was, but now you figure that you've been together for a little over a year, he should at least know the truth. The whole truth.

"Hey Erick, I don't think I've ever said thank you."

"For what?" He sits up a little straighter.

"For everything. I don't think you realize how much you've helped me. I probably wouldn't be here because of you." He looks at you now. "I think... I'm ready to tell you what happened."

"You don't have to..." He trails off, a little unsure.

"I want to." He nods after a moment and gets himself comfortable. You take a deep breath and open up about the incident; telling him how you tried to kill yourself twice before you met him, and how the first time you had met him, you had made a pact to kill yourself by the end of the week. You tell him how in that first week, he, still a complete stranger to you, had changed your mind. He lifted you from this dark place your mind had gone to and helped you fight off your demons.

You explain how much he helped you and how you weren't the only one thankful for saving you, bringing up the memory of the first time you brought Erick to your family's house and how your mom had hugged him and cried, saying "Thank you" over and over. By the end of it, you could see his eyes glossing over and a few tears escape.

He suddenly looked up at you and pulled you in for a tight hug, whispering "I love you" over and over. Once he had calmed down, tiredness had both of you yawning every few seconds. "Let's get some sleep, yeah?" He said, and you nodded. Getting into some new clothes for the night, and turning off the lights, you lay down and Erick wraps his arms around you, making you feel safe and secure. Almost instantly, you both are asleep soundly.

~~~~~

Sun shines through the blinds, lighting up the mutely-toned room rather brightly. You can see the light coming through your eyelids and you groan in protest to the daylight, turning around and snuggling close to Erick's chest. He adjusts to the change in your position and snuggles closer to you. Though you were tired from last night's episode, and you're pretty sure Erick is as well, you know now that the light had been shined in your face, you wouldn't be able to go back to sleep.

Deciding to prolong the inevitable, you relax into Erick's embrace. You didn't have any more nightmares, and you think it's due to the fact that Erick never let you go from his embrace, not that you're gonna complain. Having no nightmares and getting to snuggle against someone you love? It's a shame you can't do it twenty-four seven.

Erick has yet to wake up and you slowly start to drift off when a pang from your bladder alerts you. You groan softly and open your eyes slowly. Looking up a little, you're met with Erick's peaceful face. Another pang reminds you and you'd hate to leave him. Slowly, you move his hands from around you and he shifts, getting comfortable again, still not awake. You quickly make your way to the bathroom and when you're finished, you walk back to the bed and sit down on the edge.

You reach a hand over and comb it through his dark hair, noticing a small curve of his lips. He opens his emerald eyes, practically glowing in the sunlight, and looks at you. You smile in return and notice when he shifts, there's a tent in his boxers. You raise a brow.

"Need any help with that?" You ask teasingly. He laughs and runs a hand through his hair.

"Only if you're comfortable amor..." He trails off. Another thing you fell in love with was that Erick never pushed you to do anything. If you felt even the slightest bit uncomfortable, he would stop whatever it was and calm you down. You get on the bed and crawl over to him, your body hovering slightly over his.

"I'm comfortable with it..." You look into his eyes before you slowly start leaning in, as did he. Your lips meet and it's a slow kiss, Erick's hand coming up to your face and cupping it gently. He slowly begins to sit up and he lays you down on the bed. Getting comfortable beside you, he makes a trail of kisses down to your neck and ghosts his lips over your sweet spot, making goosebumps rise and you giggle. "Erickkk," you draw out his name.

He smiles and his hands begin to wander down your body, to your wrists where his fingers run over the scars. Your breath gets shaky and you try not to squirm. You always get uncomfortable when people stare at you because they notice your scars. You've even gotten some dirty looks from people like they're judging you even if they've never met you. But when Erick looks at them, it's like he doesn't judge. He knows they're a part of you and he accepts it. But there's always that voice in the back of your head that, even though it's small, can drag you back down into a dark place.

Erick knows you well enough to know that you're getting slightly uncomfortable. He sits up on his knees and brings up your hands up to his lips and kisses your wrists, looking at you with so much adoration and love. "You know your scars don't bother me, mami."

You don't know how long it had taken you to get comfortable enough to show Erick your body. Long-sleeved shirts and hoodies were your best friends for the longest time. But now you're actually comfortable wearing a t-shirt around the apartment, though still a little too self-conscious to go out in public. All in good time. Look how far you've gotten come already.

Seeing Erick look at you with such a genuine look, you couldn't help your heart from melting a little. When you were with him, you felt on top of the world. He made you feel like you again. He didn't see your body's imperfections. To him, you were perfect, even if you yourself couldn't see it yet.

Erick takes his time and slowly undresses you, making sure to tell you how beautiful you were and placing kisses everywhere. Soon, you're both naked and he lets you relax for a minute, knowing you're a little stressed.

"O-okay Erick, I'm ready..." You tell him. He nods and gets in position. You give him the go-ahead once more and he captures your lips before pushing in. You suck in a breath he makes sure you're okay. Before you know it, he's bottomed out and pecking your lips, waiting for you to tell him to move. Taking a deep breath, you're ready and you tell him. He pulls up and looks at you before he moves his hips.

He pulls his hips back and pushes them back in, creating a slow-burning fire in your lower belly. Erick keeps eye contact until the pleasure gets to him, making him lean his head down. You like the slow pace, which allows you to feel him and the pleasure he's giving you. Your hand finds his hair and you gently tug, making him groan and moan your name in return.

"Feel good, mami?" He mumbles against your neck. You nod and slowly lift your hips to meet his, sending him a little deeper, and making you shutter. Before you know it, he's brought you to the edge, and you just need that little push, which you receive when he brings a hand down and rubs your nub twice and you're sent over. He follows you seconds after and rolls off of you, heading to the bathroom and grabbing a rag and cleaning up the mess and going to throw the rag.

You never thought you'd open up to anyone like this, but it's crazy to think how sometimes all it takes is one person. Erick has done so much for you that you don't think you'll ever be able to repay him. He comes back and gets under the covers with you, pulling himself close to you and you both settle down. You glance over at him and he has a big smile on his face.

"What?" You ask.

"Nothing, amor, it's just that you're so beautiful. And all mine. I'm so lucky." He adds, pecking your cheek.

"Actually, I think I'm the lucky one." He smiles even wider. "You've actually done so much for me Erick, I don't think I'll ever be able to repay you."

"Well, you don't have to. Being with you, being able to share my life with you, is more than enough for me."

"Even with all my problems and imperfections?"

"You're so beautiful and so perfect Y/N. And if I have to say it for the rest of my life to get you to realize it, I will." That made your head turn and you were a little shocked. You were both young, and marriage wasn't on your list of things to do, but the thought of spending the rest of your life with him made butterflies in your stomach flutter and your heart skip a beat. One look into his eyes and you know he means what he said. You feel tears prick your eyes and you lean into him, basically cuddling against him like a koala.

"I love you, Erick," you whisper.

"I love you too Y/N."

~~~~~

Taglist: @cracraforfandoms @kmsmedine @kikixfandoms @xmaudjexo @richardscurls

#cnco #cnco smut #cnco fluff #cnco chris #christopher velez #cnco richard #richard camacho #cnco zabdiel #zabdiel de jesus #cnco joel #joel pimentel #cnco erick #cnco erick smut #cnco erick fluff #erick brian colon #erick colon #erick colon smut #erick colon fluff

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