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wri0thesley · 3 years

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A Well Rounded Education (1): Suspension (Fem!Reader x Toji Fushiguro, 5k)

series synopsis: You are a teacher’s aid to teacher Gojo Satoru, training to be able to take over your own class next year by shadowing and helping him out. Gojo does not make things easy for anybody.

chapter synopsis: One of your favourite students has been suspended for fighting, and Gojo has palmed off the meeting with his guardian to go through all of the paperwork and facts and conditions on you. “Don’t worry,” Gojo says. “It’ll be Megumi’s sister, she always takes care of this kind of stuff!”. Gojo is wrong.

NSFW. AFAB reader, fem pronouns. dom/sub dynamics, light fearplay and predator/prey elements. piv sex.

(a well rounded education m.list and navigation)

“I’ve got all these other parents to deal with,” Gojo whines at you, pushing the papers into your hands. “And I hate paperwork, and I don’t have time to meet with Megumi’s family today – hell, if it were up to me, the kid wouldn’t even be suspended! Those guys had it coming!”

Gojo is not a very good teacher. Both of you know that – no matter how justified – violence never solves violence. Gojo, you think, would let these kids fight it out in an arena instead of solving things like an adult. You heave a large sigh as you look down at the papers detailing Megumi Fushiguro’s three-day suspension for fighting during school hours.

You’d seen Megumi before he’d gone home. He hadn’t had so much as a scratch on him; his face set in a frown, his arms crossed, his eyes downcast. You’d sighed at him and asked him if he was alright, and he’d shrugged.

He’s not a very talkative boy at the best of times, and you suppose that the suspension and the fight and the mini uproar it had caused in the school aren’t helping be any more verbose. You’d said goodbye to him and said that you hoped he thought about what had transpired today, your heart aching a little bit that you couldn’t be any more help to him.

You’d seen the three boys Megumi had got into a fight with, too. They had not gotten off so scot-free – they were bleeding noses, scraped cheeks, bruised eyes. At the very least, you don’t think any of them will get on Megumi’s wrong side again.

Gojo has to meet with all three of their parents tonight to give them the full story of why their children are so roughed up and what’s being done about it; a position that’s been doled out to him, you’re sure, because Principal Masamichi blames him for the incident and is punishing him. You can’t deny that seeing Gojo actually get punished for something is nice, but--

“Won’t they be mad to see me instead of you?” You ask him, biting your lip. “I mean . . . you’re his teacher. I’m just your aid.”

“Oh,” Gojo’s eyebrows rise behind his glasses. “No, it’ll be Megumi’s sister who’ll come, she’s a sweetheart! She’ll nod at you and say mournfully that she’ll talk to him and you’ll give her the paperwork, and that’s all – job done! Honestly, if I could palm this off on you and talk to Tsumiki instead, I’d do it in a heartbeat--”

“This is your job,” you tell him, exasperated, and he laughs wide and open. You’re not really supposed to get like this with him – if he were any other teacher, you’re sure that the exasperation and sighing and half-snapping you do would have had you thrown out of their class – but Gojo treats your irritation with him as if it’s the funniest thing that has ever happened. “You’re supposed to be good at dealing with this kind of thing!”

He shrugs.

“You’ll be fine!” He tells you, again. “Honestly, this isn’t the first time this has happened with Megumi and it won’t be the last. That kid’s got a right hook that could knock out an elephant!”

You do not ask him how he knows this. Asking too many questions of Gojo is always flirting with danger; you never know when his mouth will flash into a grin and you’ll suddenly be barraged with a flood of words and stories that don’t quite make sense and never seem to have a concrete end. But you can’t resist one last question – just in case it comes up. After all, it seems that Gojo has spoken to Tsumiki enough times for him to at least kind of know her--

“His sister?”

Gojo looks at you, and for a moment the shroud of capricious energy lifts from him, and he seems entirely serious. You’ve noticed this particular change in him only a few times – and often, those times have been about the more difficult backstories of students.

“His father isn’t around very often,” he says, eventually. “He’s some kind of something or other, Megumi never really says, but whatever he does, there’s a lot of travelling involved. Tsumiki’s his older sister – she’s twenty one, and she’s been more of a parent to him than it seems like his dad has.”

No wonder Megumi always seems suspicious and tired of Gojo. Something about his flighty nature probably strokes the back of Megumi’s psyche, where annoyances about an absent father are kept. You sigh, turning away and shaking your head to rid yourself of the idea of psychoanalysing the students.

“Alright,” you say wearily. “I’ll talk to Tsumiki.”

You’re nervous as you set up for the meeting. You know Gojo had said that this would be easy, that Tsumiki was very sweet and would probably apologise to you for Megumi being a problem – but still! This is the first time you’ve ever met any of your students’ guardian figures in any capacity. You feel kind of bad that it had to be for this kind of news, actually – ordinarily, you like Megumi a lot. He’s very intense and serious and clever, and you think that he has a bright future ahead of him when the trials of being a twelve year old boy finally are over – but this meeting isn’t for saying things like that. This meeting is for giving details of the three day suspension that Megumi has gotten for – you check the paperwork again – fighting three boys by himself on one of the sports courts, making them bleed and . . . breaking one of their arms? No wonder Gojo had seemed so miserable at the thought of meeting with the victims’ parents.

You sigh, running a hand through your hair, making sure that it still sits as neatly as you’d arranged it that morning. You check the clock to see you still have two minutes before anyone is due – you discreetly check your lipstick in a compact mirror (yesterday you’d had it on your teeth and you hadn’t realised until Mai had pointed it out with a laugh in her voice), smooth out your pencil skirt, tug at your stockings to make sure they’re pulled up and not wrinkling about your ankles . . .

And then, you wait.

The clock is straight across from you, so you’re able to see as Tsumiki is five minutes late, and then ten minutes late, and then fifteen. The tick-tock echoes in the room as your leg bounces against the floor, anxiety making you want to gnaw all of the carefully applied lipstick off of your mouth. From what Gojo had said, this doesn’t sound like Tsumiki at all – you’re just about to give up and pack all of your things away, figuring maybe she’d called into the office to say she couldn’t make it and telling you had been neglected, when the door slams open.

You rush to your feet, your sensible heels clacking on the ground.

“Miss Fushi--”

Your voice peters away.

The person stood in the doorway is, you’re certain, absolutely not Tsumiki Fushiguro.

For one thing, it’s a man. For another thing . . . well. You’re not entirely sure that a man with that expression on his face would ever be described to anyone as a ‘sweetheart’. Your frightened eyes linger on him for another moment, really taking in the broad shoulders and the muscles and the hair falling over his face, the dark, green eyes that are glaring at you like you’ve interrupted something very important. There’s a scar by his mouth that you also do your best not to stare at, just in the same way you avoid staring at how the form-fitting t-shirt he’s wearing clings to a muscled abdomen.

“It’s Mr, actually,” he says, which seems absurd in the face of him, standing there. He raises one eyebrow at you. “You were expecting my daughter, right?”

(You don’t know it, but Toji Fushiguro has gotten a read on you in less than a moment. He’s seen the wide eyes and the pretty mouth and the neatly appointed outfit, the pencil tucked behind your ear, the slightest tremble faced with his imposing presence – the fear as you’d seen the scar and the smoulder and the body. You’re adorable.)

“I . . . uuh--” Your cheeks are hot. You nod, weakly, and he walks into the room proper, the door swinging shut behind him with a deafening click. There’s danger in every one of this man’s movements, like a wolf who has finally cornered a little rabbit. You are feeling inexorably like prey, at this moment in time.

“I was expecting a man,” he says, shrugging. He sits at the chair in front of Gojo’s desk, pulled up just for him. He looks huge in the classroom; his shoulders too wide, his biceps bulging from the sleeve of the shirt. You don’t think this man was intending to be in a school classroom right now. “I guess you’re not Mr Gojo, huh? Gotta say,” he shoots you a grin that’s dangerous, everything about him is threatening. “I much prefer this development.”

“Oh,” you’re blustering, and it’s so cute. You sit back down in the chair with a quiet displacement of air, agitation in your fingers as you rake through the papers on the desk. Said desk is incredibly messy; Toji doesn’t think it’s yours. He ought to feel mad that they’ve palmed him off on some little assistant who’s probably not even fully qualified yet – instead, he’s watching your hands trembling and your teeth nibbling on your pretty mouth. “Y-yes, G-Gojo’s dealing with the parents of the other party--”

“My kid got into a fight, yeah?” He asks. “Decked ‘em pretty good, from what I heard.” You wince at his words, and that’s cute too.

“Megumi’s a good boy,” you say. “He’s just . . . got his own sense of justice, I think.” You look down at the papers, and your eyes seem to focus, back in a more comforting zone. “He’s been suspended for three days, and when he comes back, he’s on probation.”

“What’s that mean for him?” Toji asks, promptly, though something about the way he says it suggests to you he doesn’t really care. There’s a lightness, an airiness in his tone that sets you all off-kilter.

“It just means we’ll probably keep an especial eye on him. He’ll get a report that’ll need signing off on at the end of every period, someone will check up on it--” You see one of Gojo’s scrawled notes in the margin of the paperwork. You wince. “I’ll be in charge of it, actually. Making sure everyone’s happy with his behaviour for a few weeks--”

“How old are you, sweetheart?”

The question makes you jump. You’re like a doe in headlights, looking up at him. You blink slowly.

“I—I don’t think that’s an appropriate question, Mr Fushiguro,” you say, prim. That’s cute, too. He likes breaking prim and proper things like you. “I’m—I’m doing my training. I’m working as an aid here for a year, and then I’ll be qualified to be in charge of my own class.” There’s a hint of pride in your words, there.

“Toji,” he says. “That’s my name. You haven’t gotta call me ‘Mr Fushiguro’. I’m not tryna’ be pushy,” but he’s inched forward. His elbows are resting on Gojo’s desk, in front of you – he rests his chin on his folded hands, sharp eyes regarding you as if you’re something he wants to devour. “Y’just look tense.”

“This is the first time I’ve met a student’s parent,” you admit, though the minute it’s left your mouth you’re regretting it. Like you’re admitting to some kind of weakness. This close to him, you can see there’s a dark red stain on one of his wrists, like dried blood. Your stomach is tying itself in knots. It’s not helping that his forearms are so big, ridged with muscle.

“That so?” His eyes gleam. “What d’ya think of me?”

You don’t actually need to answer him. He can see it in the way your eyes keep nervously skimming over him. The way your lips are shining in the light. The bob of your throat as you swallow.

“Mr Fushiguro--”

“I told you to call me Toji,” his voice is almost mocking. You watch him lean over the table like you’re somewhere far away from the action – watch his hand reach out and cup your face, calloused thumb brushing your cheek, like you’re a ghost in the corner of the room. His palms feel like they’re burning hot. “You’re tremblin’, little lamb.”

You had thought you’d felt like a rabbit – shy, ready to run at any moment. But the moment his hand is on you, you’re docile – too scared to scamper away. You suppose you are like a lamb, staring a wolf straight on in the face, too stupid or too pliant to use your common sense and run.

“I . . . I shouldn’t,” you say, voice trembling just as much as the rest of you. Toji’s smirk hasn’t left his face. You’re saying you shouldn’t, but he just bets if he reached further down and unbuttoned your blouse, your nipples would pebble for him – he just bets there’s a wet stain on your underwear, right now. He can always tell when someone’s turned on by the idea of playing with fire.

“I wouldn’t mind spendin’ a few weeks with you in charge of me,” he muses, and then chuckles humourlessly, correcting himself. “Sorry. Lemme rephrase that. I’d rather be in charge of you, but--”

Oh, he sees that. The little flash in your eyes, an imperceptible contract of your shoulders. If you weren’t behind the desk, he bets he’d have seen your thighs press together too. Girls like you are just so fucking predictable, and he loves it every single time. There’s just something that’s so much fun about breaking them – making them submit, admit that him being so close with the scent of something-that-might-be-death clinging to him turns them on like nothing else. Your attempts at being haughty and polite and proud have just made the stirring between his thighs harder to ignore. You’re such a cute, neat, demure little thing – by the end of this meeting, he’s going to have his way with you, you bet.

“M-Mr Fushiguro,” you say, trying to wrest back control of yourself – honestly, he’s pissed you aren’t listening to him, but the title’s kind of endearing. You’re trying so hard! Pity you’re going to lose all of your manners when you’re bent over this desk with his cock inside you. You haven’t even moved your face away from his hand. “I-I have to give you these papers.”

He stands up, pulling his own touch away from your cheek. Stretches. Your eyes are drawn to the brief expanse of his stomach, just above his trousers – the dark line of hair leading down to . . . Oh, God. You shouldn’t have thought about that. The grin on his face is cocky, and you know that he knows you were looking.

“I’m just gonna throw ‘em in the trash, sweetheart,” he says to you. “Now. Let’s talk about the elephant in the room, yeah?” He steps closer to you. You totter to your feet, half-unsure, half driven by the low ache between your legs and the thrum of desire that’s been reverberating through you since the moment he’d carelessly thrown out how much happier he was to see you than Gojo. You have to tilt your head up a little when he comes closer. You’d thought you realised how massive he was when he’d walked through the door, but that’s nothing compared to how his size seems to dwarf you. Every unkind thought you’ve ever had about your body or your face seems to have gone out of the window as his heated green gaze hungrily drinks you in. You know it’s the stare of some predator who’s going to devour you, and you still feel transformed. Your breath catches in your throat as his hand idly comes to the top of your blouse buttons, a finger brushing the place in your throat where your pulse is beating its unsteady rhythm.

“Whaddya say, little lamb?” He grins down at you. “Gonna let yourself be caught by the big bad wolf?”

You’re supposed to be telling this man about his son’s misbehaviour, giving him all of the paperwork that Gojo had thrust at you, getting him to say he’ll talk to his kid and try and make sure that it won’t happen again. You shouldn’t be tipping your head back further, letting his fingertips lodge dangerously in the hollow of your throat, flirting with the place where your windpipe is. You shouldn’t be breathing out, all of your pretty prissiness and good morals and pride disappearing where you stand in the face of one of your students’ really hot dad.

“Yes,” you breathe.

And Toji wastes no time.

He doesn’t even bother unbuttoning your blouse; just drags his hand down, and the buttons pop off, scattering on the floor. You gasp at the show of strength, and Toji is still grinning, clearly enjoying that you’re admiring him. His hand pulls at the fabric, until your breasts are fair falling out of it, the blouse wrestles off your skin.

“You’re wearin’ something like this at work?” He asks you, giving a tug to the gore of your bra. You hadn’t done enough washing this week, and the one you’re wearing is all filmy white lace. “Almost like you knew I was comin’ huh?” His grin is crooked. You tremble as you reach behind you, undoing the clasp – and for that, you get a murmur of ‘good girl’ that has your knees turning to jelly.

He whistles as the bra drops from you, his gaze admiring. He takes in the spill of your breasts, the little peaks of your nipples. He takes handfuls of them, squeezing them in his big hands, his fingertips digging in so painfully you can imagine that you’ll have bruises in the shape of his fingers tomorrow. The idea doesn’t disgust you.

He lowers his head to kiss you. He’s not gentle with you for a moment – his teeth immediately nip at your bottom lip, kissing you hungrily like you’re the first taste of sugar for a man who’s lived on nothing but bread for months. His tongue licks at your lips, begging entrance – dancing against your own when you helplessly open those same lips, demanding in the exact same way Toji is.

He pinches your nipple between thumb and forefinger, delighting in how quickly the bud hardens. He rolls it between them, toying with it, enjoying the soft noises you make that get caught in his mouth. If he wasn’t kissing you, he thinks, you’d be bleating like a lamb right now. Huffing and whimpering. When he finally gets his cock in you, he’ll have to remember to clap a hand over your mouth so you don’t attract too much attention.

Your other nipple is given the same treatment, hot lightning bolts of pleasure ricocheting from the touch of Toji’s calloused fingers to the spot between your legs. You’re grateful for how solid Toji is – if he were any less so, you’re sure you’d be buckling over where you stand.

He pulls back with a final, marking nip to your lower lip, almost hard enough to make you bleed. You whine, and a dark chuckle spills out of his lips in response.

“Toji,” you whimper as he pulls away. You miss the feel of his body pressed against yours like a physical ache. His hands encircle your thighs, pushing you up onto the edge of Gojo’s desk, clever fingers already pushing your tight pencil skirt up so it’s bunched around your waist.

He kind of misses ‘Mr Fushiguro’ now it’s gone, but the sight of your stockings digging into your thighs soon chases the thought from his mind. He guesses your skirt is more than long and tight enough to make sure nobody gets a glimpse, but oh . . . that you’d be walking around all day, like that, with nobody to fuck you silly--

He can’t help but let his hands knead the soft skin, the flesh, his thumbs imprinting so hard in the plush that you squirm. He’s pressing your thighs apart, now – revealing the modest underwear, the soaking wet patch where he can see the outline of your plump labia lips.

With your legs spread, he can smell how turned on you are. Oh, yeah – he knows your type, alright.

“Ain’t you cute?” He says, chuckling. “You really want me to do you over this desk?”

“You can’t leave me like this--” Your voice is reedy, breathy, almost petulant – at another time, he’d make you beg for it. He’d take his time over you. But although the idea of being caught fucking the cute little teacher’s aid is briefly appealing, he doesn’t really want to make a whole load of trouble for himself when his cock is practically begging to be sheathed inside your wet holes. “Please--”

It’s the please that does it. It’s always the ‘please’ that does it for Toji. He chuckles, smirks, crooked grin – all of it feels like it’s mixing together in your mind, your throat very dry as nothing seems to matter right now except the fact that your sex is practically pulsing with how empty it is, and you think that the hot hard stiffness pressing against your thighs would really help alleviate some of that.

“Aww,” he says, fiddling with his zip and underwear, grabbing his cock and giving it a cursory pump just so you can admire the sheer size of him. “Don’t worry, little lamb. I’ll give ya what you need.”

He gets what he wants. Your eyes, as big and dark as the eyes of a doe – the soft choke of breath as you get to see the size of it, so big his own fingertips don’t quite meet. It’s the kind of cock that could ruin you for somebody else – and you’ve had sex before, of course, but you’ve never taken anything quite like that--

“That’s cute,” Toji murmurs, pressing forward, nestling his slick cock-head between your soaking wet thighs. “Wish you could have seen what a picture your face made just then. Afraid I’m gonna tear you in two?”

He might – he might, you think. But you pout at him and Toji’s cock throbs, as he glides the slick glans through the mess of your arousal, wetting himself even further. Your breath hitches, your hips doing a cute little jerk as it brushes your swollen clit. He can’t help himself but swirl the head over it some more, making your breath catch and whine, bleating like a little lamb--

He sinks his hips forward, and your fingers flex on the edge of the desk, knuckles white, at the relentless sear of his cock driving you open. You feel so stretched out, and he’s barely a third of the way in – he can’t help but watch your expression. He always likes to see someone the first time they’re impaled on his cock – the glassy eyes, slack jaw, the pleasure-cum-pain in their faces. He wants to take a picture of you and keep it in his wallet so he can pump one out to the sight of you when he’s on business trips and too busy to go out and find himself a hole to fuck.

“How’s that feel?” He asks you, so soft and low that you barely catch it. Another slow inch. He lets you feel every ridge, every vein, every bump of his shaft. You can hear your heartbeat in your ears.

“F-full—” you gasp.

“I bet,” Toji replies – and then, he bottoms out inside you. His eyes look down to where the two of you are joined; the slick fluid leaking out of you, all heat and needy. “You fit me like a glove.”

Your cheeks heat at the compliment, at the lewd way he’s looking at your spread open cunt – the way your hole is fluttering around him, the peeking pearl of your clit. He’s studying you like he wants to learn you by heart.

“Head’s up,” he says. “I’m gonna fuck you now.”

You’re about to open your mouth, and ask him what he’s doing right at that moment if he hasn’t started fucking you yet – but then, he’s dragged almost the entire length of his cock out of you in one savage thrust and is immediately spearing it back into you, his pace brutal. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, your back hitting the solid, flat surface of Gojo’s desk so that you’re flat out with your thighs wrapped around Toji’s hips.

If he weren’t so entranced by the feel of your walls fluttering around him, trying to suck him in further and deeper, so tight that you’re basically a vice, he’d grab you by your hair and force you to stay seated whilst he fucked you. But right now, you feel so good that all he can think about is his own release. The wet sounds of his cock gliding in and out of you, the squelch of your arousal and slick making every pump easier and easier. You feel so good. You’re tighter than he even imagined you could be, so good that he kind of wants to take you home and have you take up permanent residence in his bed.

You’re moaning, your back arching with every one of his thrusts – taking it admirably. There’s pain in your moans, yes – he supposes he could have prepared you better, had you come on his fingers a couple of times, if time were not of the essence – but they’re the pained moans of someone who likes to be hurt a little bit.

With every rock of his cock inside of you, he hits some new spot that you’ve never had stoked before, makes the heat and need inside of you swim just a little bit closer to the forefront. You don’t even notice you’re moaning and whining until a big hand slaps over your mouth, rough, hot palm against your lips, smearing your lipstick.

“You’re gonna be a good girl and stay quiet,” Toji says to you, through those savage thrusts of his cock inside of you. “You don’t want your . . . your fuckin’ . . . anyone walkin’ in on you being railed by your student’s dad, do you?” You shake your head, but he feels the throb of your cunt around his cock, the way your walls contract, and he adds it to the store of things he’s learning about you. Always the quiet ones, right? Always the proper ones who look as though they’ve never even seen a cock--

The feel of him inside you is absolutely dizzying, so much and so full that you can no longer think. His cock batters against a certain place in your channel, a textured wall – and before you know it, everything is going dizzy and black and white like exploding fireworks, your chest bursting into heat, your inner walls getting so tight around Toji as you come that he thinks you’ll be the one to fucking break him.

Oh, you’re adorable, creaming on his cock – the slick gush of your arousal around him, the dreamy cast in your eye, the fact he can feel you drooling against his palm. He increases the speed of his own thrusts, chasing his release through the weak aftershocks and smaller pulses of you around him, through the over-sensitive squirming of your cute little cunt, the fact that tears are pooling in your eyes at how much everything is suddenly feeling--

He groans and the hand still clinging to your thigh is suddenly pressing so hard you think he’ll snap your bone, ragged breath;

“Fu—fuuuck, sweetheart, you’re gonna take it all, that’s right, good girl--” in between belaboured, ragged pumps, his cock twitching as he manages to pull out at the last moment and his release spills all over your thighs, luridly glistening wet in the overhead fluorescent lights.

That’s another moment he’d take a picture of, if he could.

He’s not the kind of man who waits around. He gives himself ten seconds, to catch his breath, to admire your plush thighs painted with his come, before he’s tucking himself back into his trousers and zipping zippers and doing buttons. He shoves his hands into his pockets, bouncing on the balls of his feet for a second – double checking he’s left nothing of his in the classroom.

Yep. All clear.

He turns to leave, air of cocky confidence back – you only just see the shifting muscles in his back as he turns to go, leaving you where you are. You’re lucky he’s so tall, or you’d probably barely have seen him in front of the door frame (you didn’t even lock the door, anyone could have walked in at any time! You don’t even want to know what Gojo would say if he’d walked in to his aid being fucked like a slut across his desk).

“W-wait,” you say, weakly, still sprawled over the desk with his come cooling on your thighs. You manage to prop yourself up on your elbows, but your entire body feels like it’s just taken a battering. He takes a look back at you from the door, dragging a big hand through his hair, his crooked grin still on his face. You look so pretty like that – all fucked out and messy, the shine taken off of you. “T-the paperwork--”

You’re not sure where said paperwork is. Underneath you, maybe? You hope it didn’t get soaked.

“Told ya’,” he says, dismissively. “I’m just gonna throw it in the trash. Thanks for the fun, sweetheart. See y’around, huh? I should do stuff for the kid’s academic career more often.”

The door slams shut behind him.

#toji x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #toji x you #not sfw #writing #jjk teacher aid au #jjk posting #afab reader #fem pronouns #jjk writing tag

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secretsandwriting · 3 years

Text

So I’m testing some new things out with this so you guys will have to tell me what you think!

I’ve also come to the conclusion that while Timothee isn’t my favorte celebrity I like writing for him.

Also, I have no idea how movie premieres work so this is really just a guess and could be completely wrong.

Word Count - 1609

Beta Read - by google docs

Navigating through the crowded streets of New York was getting to be something you were good at. Moving there had definitely been a culture shock but after getting used to it, it was pretty nice. But now, you needed to get coffee and work on your French for one of your classes.

Ordering and setting yourself up, you started the assigned video and prayed it would make sense and you wouldn’t have to add another hour or two of study to your already full schedule. But as fate would have it, it sounded like gibberish.

Restarting the video to try again, you were pulled out of your studies by a burning sensation going down your arm. Pulling out your headphones you looked down at your arm to brown soaking into the sleeve.

“I’m so sorry!” The guy in front of you looked familiar but due to his mask it took a moment for it to sink in. Timothee Chalamet. He was an actor, but that wasn’t important. What was important? He knew french.

“That’s not important. Do you have any free time right now? I know you know french and I need to learn it and this makes no sense and it’s due in two hours.” You definitely caught him off guard, but he checked his phone.

“I have an hour.” He pulled a chair over and you handed him one of your earbuds. For the next hour he helped you, he was a lot better than the video your teacher had given you.

“Here,” he handed you a slip of paper. “If you need more help just text me and I’ll help when I can.”

“Thank you! With your help, I’ll at least pass.” He laughed and you said your goodbyes before he went on his way and you worked on finishing the rest of your homework.

While you worked, you didn’t notice the girls in the corner watching you with their phones out and slightly pointed at you.

The next day, you almost regretted asking Timothee for help when you woke up to your phone being blown up by friends and social media. There were multiple pictures of you and Timothee as well as multiple dating theories. One of the notifications stood out, Timothee had messaged you on Instagram.

You didn’t really talk until your next assignment came and you texted him about it. Together you decided to meet at one of the libraries. This time you knew that you would be spending time with a celebrity and people would notice so you made sure you at least looked alive. That way if there were pictures posted online at least you wouldn’t look like too much of a mess. Apparently Timothee noticed.

“You look nice.”

“Well, the chances of pictures being taken are pretty big so I at least want to look alive and not like I just rolled out of bed.” He snorted and you chatted for a few minutes before getting to work.

This time it was a bigger assignment so it took a few hours instead of one. But it didn’t seem to be so long, it felt like time had flown by and it was finished immediately. Timothee was interesting, you two could have fun but when needed it could be serious.

So when you split ways and Timothee started texting you an hour later, you didn’t feel like he was trying anything. It just felt like you were talking to a friend you had known for years. Then, you had plans to hang out two days later when he was free. The plan was to got to a park and play with kids and act like a kid, simply to feel like you didn’t have so much on your plate and could just have fun for an afternoon.

The interview he asked you about, was before you were meeting to go to a park and act like you were children, not adults who had jobs and college. But that was the plan, and exactly what you did.

The two of you ended up chasing each other until all the other kids at the park wanted to play with the two of you. The parents watched the two of you close when you played with them but that was to be expected.

Timothee was good with kids. Not just good, amazing. All the little girls were absolutely in love with him while all the boys were amazed by how strong he was.

However, as most people know. Kids have no filter, therefore they ask any question that comes to their brain. Hence the 30 different times you had to tell them that you weren’t dating and you were just friends having fun. Some of the parents seemed to think so too, one of them basically told you.

“Thank you for playing with Maggie, she had a blast and she’ll probably sleep well tonight.” The lady looked relieved at the thought. “You and your boyfriend would be good with kids if you decide to have them.”

“He’s not my boyfriend. We just met a month ago and we just came here to have some fun.” She nodded but you could tell she didn’t believe you. Trying to ignore what she said you turned and went back to playing with the kids.

It was after two hours of playing different games, the two of you decided that you were out of energy. Timothee offered getting a meal and you agreed. And that’s how you ended up in a Mcdonalds.

For the next few months, you would meet up for assignments or just to hang out. The press had a hayday with it but after a while it was easy to ignore and then it became more fun to do funny poses every once in a while.

Then he had to go work on a movie so your contact was left to text, phone calls, and facetime. It worked but it wasn’t as good as meeting in person. He still helped with your french until the semester was over part way through his movie.

“Timmy!!! I passed!!!” You held up your phone to the camera on your computer so he could see through his screen. It was amazing and you owed it all to him. Last semester you had barely passed and that had been with 4 times the amount of studying then you had done today. Timothee was godsent.

“Yes! You did it!” You celebrated for a little bit before he got serious. “Y/n, since you passed I know what we can do to celebrate. When this is over, you should come as my plus one to the movie premiere.”

“The movie premiere?!” He nodded, you could see how nervous he was in his eyes. “I have one question.” He nodded, waiting for you to ask. “What am I supposed to wear.” He snorted.

“I’ll talk with my manager and see what he says.” So that was the plan. You kept talking with him, but now it was less about school and more for the fun of it.

When the movie premiere came close Timothee got an answer to your question. Though he almost seemed hesitant to tell you.

“You just have to go get measured and go to a few fittings. The brand making my suit is making you a matching dress.” You would be matching with Timothee sure, you were going as his plus one, or date depending on who you ask. But brand? This dress sounded like it was going to cost more than your college tuition.

“Ok, when and where do I need to go?” He gave you his manager’s private number so you talk straight with him and get all the details. Little did you know, that that was the beginning of the storm.

Somehow it got out that you were going with Timothee and even getting matching outfits. Soon, your phone was being blown up by people trying to get details and even shows asking you to come on and talk about it. Timothee’s manager called you and offered to be your manager until this all calmed down, mostly because this affected Timothee but the offer was still appreciated and accepted.

He texted you a link and told you to post it in all of your public social media bios titled ‘Manager’s contact’. While it wasn’t something most celebrities did, you had just been dragged into this. It would start as a base line until things were figured out.

Through this mess, Timothee kept apologizing even when you said it was ok and it wasn’t the worst thing that could happen. You thought the manager would be enough but then you ended up sharing Timothee’s booking agent too. Apparently everyone wanted to talk with you.

A few days after agreeing, you learned that the episode would be realised a week before the premiere, but hopefully it would go well. You were also told that Timothee would be doing the interview with you which made you feel a lot better.

Timothee came back the day before you had to fly to California so you were going to let him take the day to rest because frankly it was a lot, but he showed up at your door with his suitcase. He hadn’t even gone home.

“Timmy! What are you doing he-” He cut you off.

“Can I kiss you?” What? That wasn’t what you expected. While you stood there staring at him completely confused, he started shifting around a little bit and playing with his hands.

“Yeah.” That’s all it took for him to get his confidence back.

Request:

Hey, I really love your writing.

Can I request something with Thimothée Chalamet? Maybe like they meet at a coffee shop and he accidentally spills his coffee on her and then they become friends and they progressively fall in love with each other? If you can’t I understand.

Thank you 🤍

#timothee chalamet x reader #timothee chalamet x y/n #timothee chalamet x you #timothee chalamet imagine #timothee chalamet

113 notes · View notes

omiscurls · 3 years

Text

omi doesn’t like flowers

sakusa kiyoomi x gn!reader fluff

cw: the reader has a little sibling, i hope nobody minds, there’s one line of very slightly implied nsfw, you won’t even notice

meant for kiyoomi’s birthday! happy b-day to my favorite boy <3

one of the first things you’ve learnt about your boyfriend, even before your relationship started, is that he rarely shared personal information with anyone. he’d go as far as put up a fake birthday on his social media to avoid the awkward wishes and tons of yet another gifts from fans he so didn’t like going through. apart from that, there was a lot of weird things going on with birthdays, in his opinion: for instance people automatically thinking about zodiac sign or assuming other things, insisting to have a party, (a surprise one was his biggest nightmare) and a whole lot of other stuff he found appalling.

so it was just simply easier to say his birthday is “mid november” and get on with his life as if he didn’t just straight up lie. and truth be told, many times had you heard that “oh, in summer” or “right before christmas” before you got to know the truth. it wasn’t that easy on its own, but ever since his first little white lie, you knew he wasn’t true with you, and kept insisting, until he finally pulled you to the side and told you his real date of birth, the one only komori, atsumu, and, as he used to say, “unfortunately” his family knew.

march 20th was the date, and since you wanted to tease him, a grin appeared on your face before you mumbled “so a pisces, huh?” and earned a glare so cold and deadly, you visibly shivered before apologizing.

the next thing you learned about him and his birthday, was that he was picky about gifts. which went well with that “i’m an old fashioned gentleman” facade, because he could just say “oh, you don’t have to buy me anything. your company will be enough” with a slight smile he’d practice for years, and people thought he was just being humble and polite. spoiler alert: he wasn’t. he just didn’t want to deal with his own pickiness, and explaining to people what precisely would he like to get was too much trouble, and took away the magic of it even for someone as blunt as kiyoomi sakusa.

it’s not like birthdays were such a big deal for him, anyway, he didn’t need any gifts or parties to celebrate the fact that he just got one year older. what was so fun about that? but like the pain in the arse you were, you kept asking him what he wanted for the occassion way before he asked you out, and he hated it, but not more than he hated the way his heart jumped at the possibility of getting something you spent your time on.

the first year of your friendship, you got to know the basic thing: omi doesn’t like gifts. gifts make him uncomfortable, he didn’t know what to say, how to act, what to do with it... does he open it right then and there, or wait, but why would he immediately thank someone if he doesn’t even open it? schroedinger’s cat: if he doesn’t open it, it might as well be thin air inside the box.

it was confusing, and weird. you also learnt that it was all caused by the fact that no one was in the house to celebrate young omi’s birthday back in his childhood days, since his parents were working and his siblings long away in college, so he just assumed it was a holiday to be overlooked and not dwelled too much on, and got so used to it, that now it bothered him to be in the center of attention for once.

the third thing you learnt that year: it was almost impossible to find him a good enough gift, at least from your perspective. you spent literal hours at the store, looking at the different things he might’ve wanted, but nothing caught your eye. you called all his friends, yet he hadn’t mentioned the thing he’d like to anyone, not even komori. so you decided you’d go with instinct and remembered one cold morning when he showed up to practice grumpier than usual, and when he was asked what’s wrong, he answered:

“i woke up late and didn’t have time to make coffee”, half mumbling, half actually speaking, eyes too tired to be annoyed, legs slowly sweeping one before another as if he was forced to come here. And that’s where you got your idea.

His first birthday with you, being his 21st, had started terribly, because it was wishes from his family. He’d told you multiple times he’d rather have them forget that send those copied off the internet lines that mean less than a “go fuck yourself”

later on atsumu insisted or telling everyone and it took poor omi more than twenty minutes to convince him not to, and as both the setter and the spiker weren’t in their top moods nor form, MSBY lost a match they had that day. so all he wanted to do march 20th 2017 when he came home was to lay flat on his couch and play with his dog’s fur while watching a crappy TV show. he most definitely didn’t expect you sitting in front of his apartment’s door, tired, almost asleep.

he sighed, approching you and slightly nudging your foot with his, making you shake your head and look up.

“you’re back!” you said with a smile, and he raised an eyebrow.

“and you look like a homeless person” he responded upsentmindedly, avoiding you to reach the door lock. only after you got up did he see a small package you held behind your back. “it’s not a right day to be celebrating me, y/n” he added, opening his apartment’s door and letting you in with a hand gesture. you went inside, not for the first time ever, but every time the feeling was the same, intimidating and cold.

“why do you think that?” you said, taking off your shoes and putting them on a rack, and turning around to see him navigate you to the bathroom. you placed your bag and the gift on the floor before following his steps.

“didn’t you see the match? i fucked up big time” he chuckled ironically, looking at himself in the mirror, and you could witness the disappointment and anger in his eyes.

“so every time you guys win and you get the credit, you say that volleyball is a team sport, but if you loose, suddenly it’s your fault?” you smirked, but to your surprise he nodded.

“precisely”.

“well, regardless, it’s a minor set back. you’re still the best they make” you tried to cheer him up, but only received an eye roll in return. “aaaand, you’re a birthday boy today!”

“don’t remind me” he sighed, walking over to the kitchen to see what he can make for dinner for himself and his uninvited guest, meanwhile you grabbed your gift and walked up right behind him, tapping his shoulder lightly.

“happy 21″ you whispered, a slight, soft smile on your lips, as you handed him the package. he looked at you with a tired look in his eyes.

“you know i’m not the biggest fan of gifts”

“just open it, grumpy face” you whined, and he gently took it from you, placing it on the counter and carefully unwraping it, to see a thermal mug. he sent you a questioning look, before you explained “you were complaining about not having enough time to drink coffee before leaving, right? well now you don’t have to drink it before leaving”

there was silence for a long while before he looked up from the mug and gave you the softest smile you’ve ever seen. “that’s so thoughtful of you” he said, and laughed a tiny bit, probably to cover his emotion, which obviously didn’t work “thank you.”

omi likes thoughtful gestures.

over the second year of your friendship, as he and his career gained more recognition from the public, he was “forced”, as he’d reffer to it, to share such a personal information that is his birthday date. the managers always claimed that it’s not a big deal, that it’s just gonna be added to the oficial page and his wikipedia, but judging from the amount of gifts atsumu, bokuto and hinata always received, he had his reason to doubt that.

and as it turned out, he was right.

because starting from march 10th, his personal mailbox as well as the oficial MSBY’s mailbox has been FLOODED with different things that he really had no energy to go over. and so, he invited one of his best friends to help.

so it was late at night on march 19th, and you were both sitting on the floor of his apartment, a mess of ripped wrapping paper all around you, loads of different stuff laying on the table, as you still had a lot of things to open.

“what even is the point in sending presents to someone you’ve never met? i mean less to them than their neigbour’s dog and yet i’m the one getting gifts? this is messed up” he kept on complaining, opening another package.

“it’s called being famous, sakusa-kun. you mean very much to people you’ve never met, because your journey to where you are now inspires them to keep going on their path until they reach their dreams” you said with a smile, confident it’ll ease his worries, but it didn’t.

“don’t know if i consider being in the Jackals my dream, though”

“you mean, you don’t think being a key player in a division one team is not a dream come true?” you asked, shocked.

“no, no, of course i think it is, i’d never thought i’d reach this far, but, there’s more things to be done, it’s not like i’m an accomplished person just yet”

that, you found interesting.

“really? than what are your dreams, sakusa?” you asked in a low voice, eyes fixed on his face, as he focused on reading a letter in his hands.

“national team” he murmured “MVP, a golden medal, a legacy that goes beyond just me” he opened up as if it was nothing, as if he was talking about his grocery list “but that all wouldn’t mean a thing if i were there alone, though. i’ve received plenty awards and mvp’s over the few years that i played, but i guess what would really matter, and make everything else worth remembering, would be... having someone be proud of me, i guess”

you felt your heart getting soft and fuzzy at the confession, wanting to respond, before he handed you the note he was silently reading.

“this is a poem, y/n, a POEM! what the hell, i don’t even understand what’s going on there” he whined, throwing his head back to rest on the couch seat, as you giggled, reading the note.

“it’s nice” you said in a high-pitched tone, pushing down a laugh.

“it’s too... sophisticated” he uttered, looking at you, a tired look in his eyes. “that’s my mother’s thing, to be sophisticated, i like simpler wishes, they’re easier to believe”

omi doesn’t like fancy words.

you nodded, but before you could say anything, your phone rang, and both of you looked at the screen. the hour on display marked midnight, and as the alarm ranged, the words “omi’s b-day!!!” appeared on the screen. he smiled subconsciously, noticing how you always address him as “sakusa” or “sakusa-kun” but the notif in your phone stated “omi”.

“looks like it’s the 20th already, birthday boy” you grinned, turning off the alarm.

“don’t call me that, what am i, six or something?”

you decided to ignore the comment, and smiled at him warmly before speaking, almost under your own breath:

“happy 22, sakusa. i wish you only to be here to hear me say happy 23 next year. and say so with pride.”

his eyes appeared foggy and glossy, but it was probably fault of poor lighting and tiredness.

“why stop at 23?” he asked, before standing up, and offering you his hand to pick you up, too.

omi likes very real wishes.

over the third year of your friendship you became very close. ever since that night on his living room floor, both of you couldn’t wrap your minds about anything other than each other. neither of you oblivious idiots found out what it was about, but day after day and month after month it was harder and harder to spend time apart.

before he could notice, sakusa always tried to find you in the crowd before serving, and that’s how he always used up most of his time. once, he even heard ushijima complain “how much longer are you going to take? be a man and beat me without your good luck charm!”

his good luck charm, huh?

you kinda liked the sound of that.

you also found yourself texting him every random thought that came to your head, sending pictures of everything, becasue you wanted to share as much of your life as possible, meeting up whenever you could and facetiming whenever you couldn’t.

it all started to go downhill when atsumu, bokuto and hinata started noticing. noticing the way he’d smile at his phone, the way he’d wink, smile, tease, joke, speak, even the way his eyes wondered when left unfocused, and a dreamy look covered his vision.

and they started to tease, and joke, and make his life all more difficult, just because “omi has a crush!”

because he didn’t. right? he didn’t have a crush on you, for sure, and it only annoyed him, how childish they were about it, how insufferable. they got on his nerves so bad that he stopped responding to all the messages, stopped smiling, joking around, and all, just to prove his point,

his point he knew was no longer standing.

and so atsumu would ask, after one of their practices, “hey omi, is your lucky charm picking you up? some birthday dinner, maybe?” he’d nudge his side with an elbow, raising his eyebrows.

“i don’t know” he mumbled “and stop calling them that”. the brunette kept looking for something in his bag, just to avoid atsumu’s tiring, curious glance.

“fine then, how about your significant other?” he continued teasing. it’s not like sakusa would hate that scenario, of course he wouldn’t, yet his mind kept spiraling - what if you came in and heard that? what if you assumed he was calling you that behind your back?

what if you didn’t feel the same?

“stop butting in my relationships for once, miya! how many times am i supposed to tell you i’m not in any way romantically involved with them? i don’t even like them that much!” he lied, straight in his best friend’s face, fed up with all the jokes and smirks behind his back, and judging from atsumu’s shocked expression, and the color running away from his face, it worked.

“what, don’t you have anything to say to me now?” he kept going, before atsumu shook his head, and pointed behind kiyoomi’s back wordlessly. the spiker raised an eyebrow, turning around to see you, in the flash, eyes wide open, a tiny little package in your hands, wrapped so neatly in colorful paper, with a little bow tie at the top.

even from a distance he could already half see, half imagine tears prickling your eyes before you smiled sadly, dropped the box from your hand and let it fall to the floor, and began walking out of the gym room.

“no, no no, y/n, wait!” he started shouting out, but your ears seemed deaf to his pleas, as he ran up to the door you just walked through, leaving atsumu alone, but with a condescending smile.

“i don’t like them that much my ass, omi-kun” he whispered to himself before walking over to grab his things.

meanwhile sakusa ran out to the reception room of the stadium, but as it turned out, it was filled with fans waiting for them all to come out, so they could wish him happy birthday, and it seemed impossible to get through the crowd and reached you, especially considering you were already at the exit door.

he looked around himself and noticed all the people, how many of them were there, and how close to him, and got paralyzed in place, wanting to move, or disappear, that’d be for the best, and yet he couldn’t even move one foot.

soon enough he felt a hand on his shoulder, guiding him back inside, his savior apologizing to the public.

“sorry guys, we have one more thing to go through! he’ll be out shortly” atsumu laughed off, before closing the door and handing omi the gift you left.

the spiker mindlessly opened it, only to find out a spotify code inside, put in between a glass frame. he took out his phone from the bag and scanned it with his app, gasping audiably when the page loaded.

lay back in the arms of someone by smokie showed up on his screen, and a smile crawled up his lips before he remembered how badly he fucked this up a second ago.

he narrowed his eyebrows before looking up to find the blond setter’s eyes.

“atsumu” his friend’s eyes widened in surprise upon hearing his first name, instead of surname “is there a back exit from here?”

atsumu miya smirked.

“bet ya there is, mr i-fucked-up-big-time” he answered, theatrically offering his hand, before taking the lead.

you on the other hand, came home peacefully, although hot tears were streaming silently down your cold cheeks as you entered the apartment’s door and looked at the calendar, showing the date of march 20th. in a sudden wave of aggression you ripped it off, knowing that there’s nothing to be so pressed about: he had no duty of feeling the same way towards you, why would you even expect it?

you went on with your day, ordering takeout for dinner, snuggling up on your couch and rewatching a series, not granting your thoughts access to yourself, and it was really going well, until you heard the doorbell ring.

“nobody’s home” you yelled, assuming it was either atsumu or bokuto on their way to cheer you up, and they’ll probably let themselves in as soon as they hear your voice, but that didn’t happen. instead, the doorbell kept on ringing. “ugh, just come in!”

they didn’t come in, so you lifted yourself off the couch and walked over to the door, opening it and gasping a tiny bit when instead of your dumbass friends holding McDonald’s you saw a one hundred and ninety two centimeters tall figure of a man, struggling to catch his breath, leaning on your doorframe, his black coat unbuttoned, cheeks red, eyes puffy and hair in a mess, not even gelled into place as they always are.

“can i help you?” you asked in a cold manner, voice sending daggers into his poor, confused heart, as he finally looked up to meet your glance, an apologetic look in his eyes when he tried to form a sentence.

“i think i can... no, way, i think i might...” he kept struggling, to which you only rolled your eyes, waiting for the continuation of that sentence.

“spit it out, sakusa” you stated, sending shivers down his spine with how annoyed you seemed.

yeah, spit it out, sakusa, he thought to himself before taking a breath and finally speaking up correctly:

“i think i might be in love with you.”

your eyes widened for a second as you tried to find evidence of honesty in his expression, tone, voice, because you definitely didn’t believe his words.

his heart dropped when you scoffed.

“i don’t need your pity”

that’s when it hit him:

omi doesn’t like to spend his birthday without you. you make it not only bearable, but fun.

in fact, he never wanted to spend it without you again. and as that realization made it’s way into his brain, he caught you closing your door.

“i respect you too much to pity you” he spat out as he placed his hand in between the door and the frame, making you unable to close it, even if you wanted to.

and there was the honesty you looked for.

“then why—” you started to wonder, but he shook his head before interrupting, a helpless look across his face.

to lay back in the arms of someone

“i’m afraid of... of this, okay? i’m afraid of falling in love, if this is any explanation for you. it’s like... you make me feel as if i’m on the top of the world” he laughed nervously, making you raise your eyebrows, before continuing “and it’s fucking scary to imagine falling from that high”

you give in to the charms of someone

his glance wondered all over your face to find crumbs of understanding, scared you’d laugh his confession off, a grimace of worry replacing the insecure smile painting his lips, and he was just one step away from shouting “i’m telling the truth!” at you, but you cut him off by opening your door fully, and welcoming him inside with a warm smile on your lips, and a reassuring sentence on your tongue.

happy 23rd, kiyoomi

“i think i might love you back”

omi likes feeling loved.

the next year flew by on both of you pushing each other’s limits, challenging each other like the both of you always needed, being there for each other, finding out how nice it feels to have someone there. it was coming home with a sore throat after a night of yelling “one more point, omi-omi!”. it was carefully intertwining your pinkies together while shopping without even realizing. it was awkward dates, because the label “date” always changes the atmosphere. it was taking weird selfies, it was having to part for out-of-town games and facetiming from hotel rooms. it was butterflies in the stomach and a ball of fluff in mind.

it was everything.

the first year of your official relationship flew by in no time, kiyoomi finding new joy in his birthday since now it was really a day to be remembered, marking your anniversary.

and just as you got home to his apartment after dinner, ready to unpack all the fanmail once again, the janitor of the building stopped you.

“sakusa-san, there was a flower delievery for you” he sighed, going towards a locked shelf and coming back with a bouquet, at which kiyoomi stared for a whole five seconds before you decided to take it.

“thank you for taking care of it” he muttered with a slight bow, you pushing him to go up the stairs. “who’s it from?” he’d ask you a minute later, halfway through the staircase.

“don’t you wanna check yourself?” you asked, but he frantically shook his head.

“check it for me, please”

omi doesn’t like flowers.

you nodded wordlessly before checking a card.

“well if i’m not mistaken this is your surname” you furrowed, struggling to read the handwriting. in your defense, the kanji for “sakusa” are quite complicated.

he looked over at the text before admitting “yeah, that’s from my aunt, she insists on sending those ever since i got into MSBY” he finally got to his door to unlock it “kinda sad how she didn’t even bother writing a text before” he chuckled, making you want to throw the flowers away.

you knew he considered them worthless if that’s the story behind the nice gesture.

the apartment door remained opened, but he didn’t enter, you almost stumbled over him, focusing on the note, and glanced over to see what caught him attention and prevented him from going inside.

“this is your surname, for a change” he stated, showing you a buffy envelope over his shoulder, but didn’t let you take it when you tried. instead he opened it himself, a neatly wrapped package inside, with a note at the top:

i wore glowes making it! i swear!

there was a typo in gloves, and the writing style could use a little work on it, but that didn’t affect kiyoomi at all, as he was hypnotized with his package after noticing your surname on it. he carefully opened it, to find a keychain, made from cubes, as the ones used in different boardgames, on every one there was a letter or a number, together forming the writing “kiyoomi 15″ with a heart at the end. it was all on a black string, and almost shined with how many times it was wiped before sending. after holding it in his hand for a while, he noticed another card at the bottom of the package, taking it out and reading out loud:

“please take care of my sibling. happy 24th!” he uttered in sheer amazement, as he grazed his fingers over the delicate ornament, before wordlessly going inside the apartment.

you followed him, closing the door behind you, worried about his reaction about your little sibling’s present, only to find him crouching before his couch, his training bag laying there as he tried to attach the keychain to the it’s zipper, smiling when he managed to do so.

before he got to turn around to face you, you managed to take a photo of him smiling at the newest addition to his training gear, and send it to your family with a caption:

omi likes personalized stuff.

over all the years of knowing kiyoomi, you’ve learnt so much about him, his life, his habits, everything. you knew him inside and out, and so he knew you. you’re laughing at your confusion and fear while you were buying his first birthday gift, as you sit on the floor in your shared apartment, plotting his 25th, biggest yet gift, as if he isn’t about to walk through the door, coming back from practice.

it’s almost ridiculous, how you struggled, wondering if he’d even like a gift, when right now you have a whole list in mind:

although omi doesn’t like gifts, he likes little thougtful gestures. he doesn’t like fancy big words, but likes real, honest wishes he can really take to heart. he doesn’t like spending his birthday without you, he likes feeling love, doesn’t like flowers, but does like his gifts personalized and touching.

you realize all the moments in your relationship made you know his every emotion and expression, but you’ve never seen your precious boyfriend cry, ever.

and you decide to change that.

you’re gonna make him something that’s gonna mask all the memories of his birthday being forgotten, walked pass by, pushed into the back, and not properly celebrated. that’s gonna outshine every single gift he’s ever got. that’s gonna make him so happy, he’ll cry.

an idea pops into your head as you get a pen and start writing.

dear kiyoomi,

_______

“dear kiyoomi” you get to hear him say a couple of nights later, he reads it out on your plea, with a smile across his lips, as you, atsumu, bokuto, meian and hinata, as well as omi’s older siblings and komori and osamu sit at the table, a cake and two traces of his favorite cupcakes are taking all the space possible.

omi’s voice is colored with a couple of glasses of wine, so it’s easier to him to relax and genuinely grin at the paper as he’s reading, all part of your plan.

“when i first met you, the first thing i found out is that you’re a private person. not that i was freaked out or anything, but you did have, and probably you still do, a heavy aura around you that may have flustered me a tiny little— a tiny little bit? smiles, your hands literally shivered” he stopped to comment, making you roll your eyes at him.

“zip it and keep reading, birthday boy”

“... a tiny little bit, i agree. nevertheless, the first thing i actually felt, was that you striked my soul as someone weird. thanks, baby” he interrupted again, but you urged him to keep reading. “... weird in a way that made me feel like i’ve never felt before, the kind of safe and terrified at the same time. terrified of what, you might ask? well, kiyoomi, here i’d like to quote you. you once told me that me loving you is like i had the power to break you, and you loving me back was like giving me a map with all the points to strike at. well if that’s the definition of love we’re going for here, than i not only give you a map, i’ll grant you a whole GPS. the trust you put in me every day to not take advantage of what you’ve given me is inspiring, and hence, i surrender every single point of ressistance i’ve held against you, i’m yours to snap at a wish, and trusting you that you won’t do it is something i can spend my life believing in.”

at this point kiyoomi had to stop and take a deep breath and a sip of his wine before continuing, clearing his throat a bit, chocking back his emotion.

“... throughout my years by your side, i’ve memorized everything there is to memorize about you and gifts. you generally aren’t a fan, but you like them carrying a lot of thought, dedication, you like them meant exactly to you and to you only. you don’t want pointless blabbing and overused sentences, you enjoy sincerity. you need love radiating from them in order to truly acknowledge them as something special. now, the last thing i know is that you don’t like flowers, but i hope you won’t be too angry with me and with what i’ve prepared for you. enjoy, signed, your smiles” he finished, looking up at you, already moving towards the counter, grabbing a bouquet from behind it.

he watched in amazement as you handed it to him, taking it in his hands, realizing that-

it was a bouquet of origami flowers.

“please, y/n, this is so—” he tried to find the right words, but once again, nothing came to mind as he watched your careful work from every side possible.

“shh, there’s a special thing to them” you explained, sitting back in your seat, exactly in a straight line from him, watching every single change in his expression as he tried to find what you meant.

he realized every flower had a little card sticking out from it’s center, and pulled the first one, the closest one to him.

“the first reason i love you” he read in a weak voice, chuckling nervously again before he found the courage to read it out loud “you make me feel protected”

he looked up at you with such a gentle and caring note in his eyes that you almost didn’t want to encourage him to keep reading it, but you did.

“two. you don’t smile too much” after that he raised an eyebrow, but read the next one “three. ...but when you do, you outshine the sun itself. four. you memorized my coffee order within the first two times we’ve been to a caffee. five. you got supplies to redo my coffee order without going to the— hey i swear i didn’t mean anything bad by it!”

“that’s literally the reason they love you for, idiot” atsumu laughed, urgining him to keep reading with a hand gesture. “come on, this is adorable”

“six. you have a playlist with songs that remind you of me. yes, i know this, omi, we share a spotify account. seven. you claim you don’t like interacting with people, but let a little girl propose to you with a cereal ring in the park.”

“this is too cute, omi is a softie” bokuto whined, hiding his face in his hands, but sakusa only slapped them off.

“am not. eight. you keep a mental score of all the times you won over ushijima. nine. you take way too much pride in beating atsumu in service aces”

“true that!” atsumu shouted, hiding behind his glass.

“ten” sakusa shook his head. “you don’t enjoy PDA, yet gave me the kiss of the century when i met your mother, just to annoy her. eleven. your childhood photos are too cute. twelve. you blasted hopelessly devoted to you the morning after we— i’m not reading that, idiot!” he half laughed half whined, in a high-pitched voice.

“omi-san knows how it’s done, apparently” hinata wheezed, komori accompanying him.

“did i ask?” he rolled his eyes and went back to picking lines from the flowers. “thirteen, you tug the corner of my sleeves when you’re stressed in public. fourteen, you have me saved in your phone as your good luck charm. fifteen. you put my head on your chest when i can’t sleep at night, to calm me down. sixteen. you make me laugh when i’m sad. seventeen. you almost never intent to make me laugh, yet always do. eighteen. you always make sure i’m carrying all the emergency items all me at all times. nineteen. you make me call you when i get home from a party, if you aren’t there to pick me up. twenty, you always insist on picking me up from wherever i am, because you’re worried about me. i mean yeah, what kind of a boyfriend would i be if i weren’t?” he genuinely asked, half of the guest shaking their heads.

“come on, five more to go, you adorable, clueless idiot” motoya pat his back and looked over his shoulder to see your careful handwriting, before sakusa hid the message from him.

“twenty one. you make me not worry about my future. twenty two, you try to do all your little morning rituals in advance when you leave, so i don’t miss you too much. i still do. twenty three, you’re never afraid to be bluntly honest with me. twenty four, you always ask if you can hug me when i’m low or crying. and twenty five—” he stopped more suddenly than anywhere before, eyes visibly watering before he dropped his head down and his it in his arms.

“what’s on there?” several guys asked over themselves, as omi kept laughing slightly, hiding tears in the sleeves of his fitted shirt.

“you’re gonna be the death of me” he murmured into the material, making everyone laugh, including you, who decided to walk over to him and hug him, resting your head on his, taking advantage of the fact that he was sitting and you could reach it.

after a moment of weakness, he showed his red and slightly puffy face, two trails of tears fitting his smiling expression as he struggled to say

“twenty five. you make me prouder and prouder every day.” he kept laughing through his tears, really trying to hide his emotion and failing miserably. “you really did try to make me cry on my birthday, didn’t you?” he looked up to you still embracing him.

“i suppose i did”

“well then, i’m gonna outshine you” he said, shifting in his seat in order to get up, wiping the last remains of tears from his face.

“what do you mean?” you asked, met with his confident smirk.

“you’re gonna see in a bit, trust me” he huffed, dusting off his pants’ material on the knee level, and reaching over to his pocket, in his hand a tiny, little box.

with a little more than an origami flower.

#haikyuu sakusa #sakusa #sakusa kiyoomi #hq fanfic #hq prompts #hq scenarios #haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x gender neutral reader #sakusa x reader #kiyoomi sakusa x reader #sakusa fluff #fluff #hq fluff

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paellaplease · 3 years

Note

HAII!! if it hasnt been done yet, could you do revali x reader with basorexia? maybe reader really wants to give him a kiss but she really cant since,, yknow she has lips and he has a fuckin beak so she just decides to give him a lil smooch on the cheek? idk that was just an idea i had in mind, u dont have to write it!

22. basorexia - the overwhelming desire to kiss.

pairing: revali x reader summary: revali spirits you away to enjoy the new years eve festivities.

In the darkness of your room, you awoke to the sound of a soft tapping on your window. Twisting in the mess of blankets and pillows, you pushed aside the papers and textbooks that had accumulated at the foot of the bed, noticing only then that the candle at your desk had long since extinguished.

Head pounding, you rubbed at your tired eyes, feeling heavy. How long had you been asleep?

The tapping grew more insistent, forcing you to get up. Grumbling, you allowed yourself a second to stretch, ignoring how your room felt like water sloshing in a glass.

"Yeah, yeah. Hold on!" You said, hobbling to the window. Brushing the mess of hair from your eyes, you pulled the curtains away and roughly pushed it open.

The culprit hovered outside, eyes bright and smug. Revali looked very much at home though he was floating at a dizzying distance away from the ground. In the sleepy haze, he looked like a painting of some myth you had read before, with the late night sky as his backdrop and the outline of your window as his frame.

"Took you long enough."

"Apologies. I thought some tree branches were hitting the glass."

The Rito made a show of turning in the air. "Funny, I don't see any nearby trees."

"I know," you sighed, disappointed.

Revali rolled his eyes and poked his head through the window, feathers brushing past your cheek as he ignored your personal space in favour of scoping out your room. The stiff turn of his neck as he looked around reminded you of the curious and confused little birds that landed on the sill from time to time.

"Quite a dreary home you have here." Gesturing to the overall darkness, he pointed to your stack of scattered papers. "You shouldn't study without proper lighting, it's bad for your eyes."

"I was asleep."

"Why, I'm surprised. And here I thought you were one of the festive many who choose to stay awake at an ungodly hour in order to count down the remaining seconds of the year."

"Well," you shrugged, not wanting to meet his eyes. "Not like it's anything special. New year, same shit. What difference would a countdown do?"

Biting down on your tongue, you stopped yourself from saying anymore. The cold breeze sifted past the light shirt you were wearing, making you shiver.

He was right, normally you were one of those people who stayed up, excitedly watching the hands of the clocktower tick til they reached midnight. You enjoyed the energy of being in a collective crowd, waiting with bated breath for the first inhale and exhale you would take into the brand new year.

The final month on the Hylian calendar brought a sense of relief and a hope for new beginnings. Usually today of all days you were at your happiest, jumping at the prospect of celebrating along with the rest of the kingdom and yet…

That sinking weight clawed at your chest again, forcing you to clamp down on it once more.

You grimaced. There it was; that bitter feeling. Hylia. How annoying. It twisted in your brain like an angry snake, pulling down your mood and enthusiasm along with it.

Last year you wanted to cheer and dance until the morning light. Now all you felt like was staring at the wall. Or falling asleep.

You blinked, turning back to the window to see Revali patiently waiting for you to continue. Feeling your face warm, you hustled your brain to get a move on. A coherent thought would be great right about…now!

"Hey have you ever wondered why they don't grow trees on this side of the castle? It's not fair the more expensive quarters get all the pretty greenery. I mean, non-noble guests still need that sweet oxygen everyone keeps raving about, you get me?" Shut up brain, that's enough. I said a coherent thought. C o h e r e n t.

Stars in his wings, Revali shook his head but answered anyway. "I agree, it's hardly fair. Also go change into something warm, we need to get you outside."

"What? Why?"

Something in the Rito's expression clued you in to the fact that he wasn't in the mood to play stupid. You've been sitting in the dark for the past few days and it didn't take a private investigator to know it was playing tricks with your head. "Fine, but when I say we go back--we go back, got it?"

He huffed, turning around to give you some privacy. "I promise on my honour."

The brightly lit lanterns of the town square made you squint as you shuffled closer to your guide, the sound of the city loud in your ears.

Though less prominent, the twisting feeling in your gut continued, making you more hyper-alert than usual to the world around you. Adjusting the sleeves of your coat, you followed Revali past the streets, the Rito expertly navigating through the sea of people.

Somewhere along the way he had taken your hand, and you told yourself it was a good way for you both to stick together. Wouldn't want you getting lost and spending the final minutes of the year playing an elaborate game of hide and seek after all. He was a great friend like that. Nevermind that everytime you would hold his wing a little tighter to remind yourself that he was there, he would always squeeze back.

You needed a distraction.

Just focus on everything that's not him.

The night was alive with the sound of music. It didn't matter if you partied with an alcoholic drink in hand, or a glass of milk, everyone in Hyrule was filled with an addictive buzz that came with an event that only happened once a year. Vendors with bright smiles called out from their stalls, the smell of freshly baked sweets or the sizzle of a barbecue beckoning you to take a closer look. To your left, a group of friends raised their hands in the air, loudly welcoming a Goron that had turned up late but regardless had finally arrived.

The archer followed your line of sight, guessing the question bouncing in your head. "Daruk is in Eldin, probably rattling Death Mountain with that story again about the Moblin camp and the barrel of explosives."

"I love that story."

"Of course you would."

"Sorry about your feathers though."

"Whatever, they grew back."

"How about the one's on your--"

"Anyway," he interjected quickly, playfully nudging you to the side and glowering at your laughter. "We've been told to 'take a break'. The other Champions have chosen to spend this day with their families and loved ones. We are planning to regroup and continue preparations in the days following."

"How about you?"

"I already said it."

Your cheeks coloured at the implications of his words, mind replaying the previous sentence. Families and loved ones. Families and loved ones. He didn't even hesitate. You both were not related. So that left you with...

"Woah!" Digging your heels into the dirt, you abruptly paused your brisk walk and saved yourself from colliding with the archer's back.

Stopping at one of the stalls, Revali held two fingers up. You glanced up at him questioningly but he refused to give anything away, expression relaxed. The vendor returned quickly, the Rito thanking them quietly and placing the payment on the bright yellow table cloth along with a large tip in their jar.

He turned around, dropping a square shaped pastry into your hands. It was some kind of rice cake, with a fluffy exterior and a golden baked surface that smelled of butter and felt warm like the sun.

Taking a bite, you smiled at the hints of coconut that were hidden in its sweet flavour. The sticky treat was familiar somehow. "Is this so luck sticks to you in the new year?"

Revali scoffed, though failed to hide his own smile behind the cake held in his wing. "You said the same thing when we first met. You need new material."

"Says the baron of bird puns."

"I am the king." He punctuated the statement by biting into his own rice cake. Offering his wing, he gently took your hand once more, turning back to step again into the busy promenade.

Following him, you noticed that the crowds ever so slowly began to thin. A lantern lit hill was coming up. The grassy expanse was dotted with a few people, though it was blessingly not as populous as the town square. "I should be the one that's surprised. Thought you hated crowds unless their attentions were all on you."

"It's tolerable so long as I am with good company."

The both of you walked up the hill with an unspoken agreement to make it to the top. Taking a seat on the grass, you allowed yourself to breathe, chest heaving from the small burst of exercise after days of being sedentary.

The twinkling lights of Castle Town stretched out before you. Gazing at it, you could imagine all the untold stories hidden in the glowing little pockets of the alleys and in the hushed whispers behind closed doors. Funny how in a city so full of people, one can feel so alone.

Revali was the first to speak, breaking you from your thoughts. "I think I can understand now. Looking at it from this distance, it really can feel like nothing much has changed."

You continued to stare at the lights, trying to focus on a certain string in an attempt to ground yourself. "Yeah. Sometimes it feels like though the world continues to spin, I'm remaining completely still. Just stagnant."

Frowning, you ran your hands through the grass, feeling the dirt shift under your fingers. You could feel your frustrations building, bubbling up to the surface with no way of dragging them back down.

"And the challenges just get worse every year. How am I going to face those old problems and these new ones if I'm still the same lost person I was back then?"

Your voice echoed at the last sentence, making you hide your head in embarrassment. That was loud.

Some strangers relaxing on the hill turned around to flash you an annoyed glare, before quickly returning to their picnics after spotting the Great Eagle Bow on your friend's back.

"I'm so sorry." You wanted more than anything then to dig a hole and hibernate preferrably for the next hundred years or so. "I'm yelling, that isn't like me. I'm so so--"

"There's nothing to be sorry about. You needed to say it." He glanced at you from the corner of his eye. There was a serious element to it that made it a little hard to breathe. "There is one part of that I don't agree with, however."

"What is it?"

"That entire section about you, how did you put it, stagnanting." He twisted a wing in the air, thinking on his words before pointing a feather directly at your face. "You're fully capable of enacting the change you want to see in yourself."

You felt a little dizzy now. But another kind of dizzy, one very different from the vertigo you felt waking up in the darkness of your room.

"And who said you were exactly the same as you were back then? You've changed. In a good way. You're stronger and more capable of things I'm sure the person you were two years ago or even less couldn't even fathom doing."

Turning to face you, Revali gave you his full attention, compelling you to do the same as the cadence of his speech joined the steady rhythm of your own beating heart. From the back of your mind, you could barely register the sound of people gathering together, their voices floating into the cold night air.

'Ten!'

"It's difficult to see your own progress from a distance."

'Nine!'

"So take my advice and start looking at yourself up close for once."

'Eight!'

He had that expression on his face, one that said he was thinking too hard about something. It was like watching him try to pull the planets together with just a piece of string. His brows were furrowed so deep that your fingers wished to run over his feathers and smoothe the worried creases.

'Seven!'

You slowly reached out to him, giving him enough time to back away. Revali stilled as your hands traced up the nape of his neck, leaning in as his pulse thrummed underneath the soft pads of your fingertips.

'Six!'

He opened his beak the moment you reached his face. You paused, half expecting him to tell you to let go and pretend like it never happened.

Instead, he called out your name.

'Five!'

He said your name again, though quieter now. It was enough to tug at the invisible force drawing you two together. Enough so that the polite distance nervously enforced by the both of you gradually began to dissipate, trailing away like a ribbon of smoke as you both leaned in closer.

'Four!'

"May I--," He cleared his throat, eyes darting away for a second before they were back on you again. Bright green in the lantern light. Emeralds in the desert sand.

'Three!'

"May I kiss you?"

"Yes."

'Two!'

"Your way or mine?" You couldn't help but joke. Revali smiled, exhaling a soft joyful laugh before pressing his forehead to yours.

'One!'

'Happy New Year!'

An earth-shaking boom rattled your ears, but all you could think of in that moment was Revali and the feel of his feathers against your skin; the utter elation of being so close to someone you deeply cared for and that cared just as deeply for you.

In the dazzling light you lifted your head from his, both your eyes meeting for a brief moment. Hands moving, you gently angled his face with a steady hand, feeling then the soft, butterfly light brush of his wings on your waist.

Closing your eyes again, you leaned in to press your lips against his beak, the blush on your face warmer than any fever or furnace. The Rito's soft sigh was barely audible as you trailed your kisses upwards, stopping at the red circle on his cheek.

Revali laughed again as you turned his face to press a kiss to the identical red mark on the other side. "You're very thorough."

"You deserve it." You beamed. "And this is just the beginning, just you wait at the end of the countdown I'll--"

"Actually my dear," he grinned, pointing to the sky.

"Huh?"

Above you were the vibrant colours of the firework display. It was beautiful and awe-inspiring, but a confirmation that you were definitely minutes in to the new year.

"Oh," you said, before shaking your head with a smile. "It's fine, we got 12 more months to prepare ourselves for the next one."

Revali nodded, pulling you closer so he could press your foreheads together again.

"Indeed," he grinned. "Now will you finish your sentence? What exactly were you going to do at the end of the countdown?"

fin.

#revali x reader #revali #botw #revali botw #prompt fic #more taggs later #i wrote this entirely on my phone so apologies for any errors #been thinking about this for a long time #also very late but happy new years #paella writes

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myhockeyworld87 · 3 years

Text

Not So Dangerous Liaison - Sidney Crosby - Part 23

Word Count: 4,542

POV: Starts with the Reader then switches to Sid’s

Warngings: Language, NSFW, Smut

Notes: Sorry this is so late tonight, but well you know life, but here it is finally. Last when we saw these two, Sid had screwed up when he tried to apologize to (Y/N) and accused (Y/N) of flying back to Pittsburgh and sleeping with another man, his teammate. Now let’s find out what happened. As always love your feedback and Happy Reading! Let me know what you guys think.

Not So Dangerous Liaison Masterlist

READER'S POV

"Are you ok?" Matt asked, throwing an arm around you as your head hung low in your hands. You could tell by his soft voice he wasn't sure if you were crying or not. Oh, you could that was for sure, but not from sadness, it was out of anger.

"No," you mumbled, then stood up and started to pace the floor. "I'm pissed off."

"I can tell," Cully answered as he watched you move around the great room.

"Who does he think he is?" It was a rhetorical question, so Matt stayed quiet. "I can't believe he has the nerve to think that I would just fly home to Pittsburgh and just jump in bed with someone. And that for him to think that I would sleep with you!" That came out a bit harsher than you intended. "Not that you're not hot or anything, but you're Dad, you know, and then there's Bridget and…"

"I get it, (Y/N)." Matt chimed in saving you from further embarrassment.

"He's just so fucking frustrating." You plopped back down on the couch next to Matt. "He never asked me to move in, you know. He just thinks I'm a mind reader or something. I mean sure I would've loved to move in, had he asked, but did he? NO!" You fought the urge to jump off of the sofa and start pacing again. There was so much tension and frustration that was bundled up inside you, that you just needed to get this nervous energy out of your system. Instead, you reached for the carton of sweet and sour chicken you'd order and shoved a piece in your mouth. It tasted like the cardboard it came in, but that had nothing to do with the quality of the food and everything to do with the nasty after-taste your conversation with Sid had left in your mouth. "I don't really think I'm being unreasonable here…do you?"

By the look on Matt's face, he was still trying to figure out what you'd said as you hadn't even swallowed the chicken before rambling again. He finished chewing his egg roll, like any normal civilized human being would, though at the moment you didn't feel normal or polite before he answered you. "First off, you're right he should've asked you about moving in." Matt could tell you were about to interrupt him, so he quickly continued. "And you're right about him jumping to a big conclusion about you sleeping with someone, though honestly, I'm quite a catch, just ask Bridget I'm sure she'll tell you that."

"You are," you said giving him a little wink, even though you'd never looked at him that way.

"Thank you, now as I was saying, and I'm not trying to make excuses for him here…"

"I feel like there's a big but coming."

"But," there it was, you saw it coming a mile away. "I've played with Sid for a year, but I've known him longer than that. You're like the first woman he's ever really had a relationship with. I just don't think he knows how to act." That couldn't be right, you thought. "I mean sure he's gone out on dates and taken someone to an event here or there but nothing like what the two of you have."

You'd known that he'd been hesitant to get involved with you because he thought it would interfere with hockey but you hadn't really given much thought to him not having experience in a relationship, but what Cully was saying made some sense. "I mean think about it, (Y/N). Hockey has been his whole life until you walked in. He went from being this amazingly talented kid to a superstar center and he's had no chance to experience the stuff that went in between with it. And do you know why that is?"

You shook your head no, wanting to hear what Cully's assessment was. "Because he's been afraid." Your brows knitted together as you tried to take in that concept. Sid wasn't afraid of anything that you knew of. Thankfully, Matt continued to explain this abstract notion to you. "He's afraid that he'll fail at it. With hockey he can control it, he can work at it. He can go out on the ice and shoot five hundred pucks until he gets that shot right. But this," Matt said, waving his hand in the air then back at you. "This thing he has with you. He has no control over it and that scares the hell out of him. There's no manual on how to be the perfect boyfriend or what to do when you have an argument, and he certainly can't go out to a rink and practice how to do it. He's afraid he'll make the wrong move, probably like he just did, and well…you'll be gone."

Fuck. That was the only word echoing through your brain. You'd never looked at any of this through Sid's eyes, but you knew that Cully was right. You tossed your head back on the sofa cushion, looking up the ceiling for some sort of divine intervention on what you should do next. "He still shouldn't have said I was sleeping with you."

"No, he shouldn't have." Matt attempted. "I guess the question is what do you want to do? Is what you have with Sid worth working things out? Are you brave enough to navigate the waters so to speak, where no one else has; helping him along?" You closed your eyes already knowing what you were going to do, but still thinking all your options out. "I remember a certain someone," he jabbed his elbow lightly into your ribs. "Being a bit insecure herself about dating a famous athlete not too long ago."

You looked over at Matt, head still firmly planted into the headrest of the couch, and rolled your eyes. "Yeah, yeah, and Sid reassured me about everything." Now it was your turn to reassure him you supposed.

"It's up to you what you want to do. The ball, or puck in your case, is in your rink so to speak."

"I'm still mad at him," you told Cully, finally sitting upright on the couch.

"Rightly so."

"Which means he can stew a little bit longer."

"Bridget would agree with you." You had to laugh at that because you had a feeling Matt's wife had left him in the dog house a time or two before he was actually forgiven.

Blowing out a long breath, you'd come to your decision. "But I will forgive him."

"That's my girl," Cully said then handed back over your Chinese carton to continue eating. "Now that that's settled. Can we finish eating?"

It was a couple hours later before Matt left for the evening. "Promise me you won't let him wait forever before talking to him."

"I won't." Though you did want him to suffer just a bit longer.

"Good, because I have a feeling he'll be blowing up my phone until you talk to him." You walked Matt to the door.

"Sorry, you got dragged into this mess."

Matt leaned in and kissed your head like any dutiful dad would that was helping his daughter. "Get some rest. I'll talk to you tomorrow."

"Night, and thanks again."

SID'S POV

You turned over for what had to be the hundredth time in the last hour and looked at the clock. Which literally read twelve minutes after three. Exactly seven minutes from the last time you'd looked at it. Why hadn't she called already? Was she going to? She probably hated you and she had every right to. You were so fucking stupid accusing her of sleeping with someone when all you wanted to do was apologize for the first fuck up you'd made the night before. Instead, you'd gone and made things a million times worth.

The tone of her voice said it all. (Y/N) was pissed beyond words at the accusation and you knew that had she been standing in front of you she probably would've smacked you across the face; deservingly so. There was no point in laying in bed and staring at four walls so you got up and went to blow off some steam by working out, though it didn't help.

You were a walking zombie by the time training practice rolled around though you put every ounce of effort you had into it, at least when you weren't checking your phone to see if (Y/N) had called. She hadn't. Physically, you were exhausted and it was only six o'clock at night. Nate suggested going out for dinner but you couldn't stomach the thought of eating a nice meal knowing that your relationship was barely hanging on by a thread, so you opted out and instead just grabbed some takeout at home.

You'd spoken to Matt a couple times, though all he would say was to give (Y/N) time. How much time though? That was the real question. Should you be jumping on a plane and flying down to Pittsburgh at this very moment or would that make this worse? You'd really made a mess of things and had no clue how to fix it.

Sleep evaded you again that night, even though you were both mentally and physically exhausted. You finally fell asleep around four-thirty in the morning only to have the alarm go off at six. You dragged yourself out of bed and headed off to train, hoping that it would take your mind off things.

"You look like shit, man," Nate told you as soon as you walked into the building. "You sure you want to be here today."

"What else am I going to do?"

Nate shrugged not having an answer of his own for you. "Have you at least talked to (Y/N)?"

"No, I haven't called her. I'm trying to give her time."

Nate looked you up and down a few times assessing you and weighing his words before he spoke again. "I know you're trying to give her space, but maybe you should go see her. I've never seen you like this man."

"I want to." All you wanted to do was get on a plane and head straight to her. "I'm just not sure it won't make things worse."

"I know she wanted you to stay and train, but honestly Sid, neither one of us is going to be pushing hard when you're completely exhausted. I'm not saying to fly back and stay in Pittsburgh. Just go there and work things out with her." Nate clapped you on the back. "For both our sakes."

Maybe he was right. You could just fly down for the day and come right back. All you needed to do was call and get a plane. "You're right. As soon as we're done today, I'm going to call and get it all set up. I've got to win her back."

"That's the spirit."

Training went a little better as you formulated a plan to win back (Y/N). You were even smiling some at the end of the day. "So as soon as we get that Tim Horton's shoot done, I'm flying out. Think we can get it done by four tomorrow afternoon?" You asked Nate as you grabbed your bag and headed out of the facility. "The plane can be ready by five, so that gives me an hour to get to the airport. Think that's enough time?"

You were looking at your schedule on your phone making sure that you could fit everything in before flying and not paying attention when you heard Nate say, "I don't think you have to worry about making that plane." You looked up at Nate not knowing why he would say such a thing when he was the one that suggested you go to Pittsburgh in the first place. He nodded his head pointing in the direction of your Suburban. There stood (Y/N) leaning up against your car.

You blinked once and then repeated the action, not believing that she was really there. It had to be some sort of dream. Were you hallucinating? Lack of sleep could do that to a person. But as you drew near, it became evident that she was standing there in the flesh and blood. She looked stunning, wearing a plain belted t-shirt dress; her hair tied back in a simple ponytail, with little wisps framing her face. God, you'd missed her.

"Hey (Y/N)." Nate's voice brought you out of your musing and you shook yourself, trying to regain your composure.

"Hi Nate," she waved back, before pushing off the vehicle.

"Good luck," Nate told then took off for his own car.

You were too busy staring at the woman in front of you though to pay any attention to Nate. "Hi," you whispered in a small voice, one that was shaky and unsure of how to proceed.

"Hi, Sidney." You found yourself frown at her use of your name. It wasn't Sid, or babe, or hun, or any of the other million nicknames she called you. "Can we talk?" You wanted to, that was your whole point of planning to go to Pittsburgh for a whirlwind of twelve to sixteen hours, but now that (Y/N) was standing here, you had no idea what to say.

"Yeah," was the only word that came out of your mouth and you wanted to kick yourself for not saying anything more.

"Not here," she said motioning to the parking lot.

No, this wasn't exactly an ideal place to have an intimate conversation about your relationship. "Did you want to go back to the house?" Oh god, maybe that was a bad suggestion. "Or we could go grab something to eat?" Even though that was the last thing you wanted to do.

"The house is fine." She opened the passenger door and then crawled inside the car before you could say anything else. It took you a minute to gather yourself and walk around to the driver's side. You'd planned on coming up with a whole speech to say to her while you were on the plane. Now you had exactly nine and half minutes, if there was traffic, to think of how you were going to apologize to the woman you loved.

The ride was silent except for the radio playing in the background. It was weird to drive like this with her. Normally your hands would be interlaced resting on the console in the middle of the car as you drove with your free hand, but as you glanced over you saw that she was sitting on hers. A clear sign that you were not supposed to touch her. It killed you and so your hands remained at ten and two on the steering wheel in a white-knuckle grip as you fought the urge not to reach over and grab her.

You glanced every so often at her, wondering what was going through her mind. It killed you that she wasn't saying anything. "How was your flight?" you finally blurted out when you were halfway home.

"It was good. Had a bit of a layover in Philly. So not as good as flying privately with you."

That flight was one you wouldn't forget. It was the first time you'd been thirty thousand feet in the air and buried deep inside (Y/N). Definitely an experience you'd thought you'd be repeating again. You hadn't expected that you'd be in the car with her now wondering if you still had a relationship.

By the time you pulled into the driveway, your nerves were shot, wondering if (Y/N) had flown all the way just to break up with you. You tried to think logically and tell yourself that if she wanted to do that, she would've done it on the phone, but knowing (Y/N), she would have to tell you that in person and not take the cowardly way out. She followed you into the house, where you sat your bag down at the door before Sammy came wondering up for her nightly pats. "Hey Sammy, how are you sweet girl?" (Y/N) said bending down to show your dog more affection than she'd shown you.

You coughed trying to work the lump that was in your throat out. "Can I get you something to drink?"

"A water would be great." You grabbed two bottles out of the fridge, opening hers like you always did, before handing it over to her, both of you taking a drink.

"(Y/N), I'm…" you started to say right as (Y/N) said "Sid, I…" The two of you laughed, even though it was hollow, it still broke the tension.

"Do you mind if I go first?" (Y/N) asked though she didn't really need to as you'd gladly give her anything as long as she didn't say she never wanted to see you again. "I hope you know that I would never, not in a million years, cheat on you. I'm not sure how you jumped to that conclusion but I'm not that kind of person, Sid. If I wanted to be with someone else, I'd be upfront with you and tell you. I wouldn't go running off and sneak behind your back."

When she took a breath, you jumped in. "I know that (Y/N). I truly do. I don't have an excuse for why I said that other than to say that I was jealous and upset, but I'm truly sorry for saying it. I don't know how I can make it up to you."

"I just don't understand why you think that. Have I ever given you a reason to believe that I would do something like that?"

"NO!" You shouted, not really yelling at her but wanting her to know it wasn't her fault. "I'm just stupid. Stupid and crazy in love with you, and sometimes…" you blew out a breath. "I'm just so worried I'm going to lose you or you won't love me anymore. I'm not good at this (Y/N). I've never had a relationship last over a couple weeks. I'm afraid I'll do something wrong and push you away, but that's what I did anyhow."

"Sid," (Y/N) said taking your hands in hers. You relished even that small contact. "You're not going to lose me or do something wrong." She moved a step closer to you, and you breathed in the intoxicating fragrance that was (Y/N). "I love you silly, and yes I was upset that you didn't see my point about staying here, and we both did stupid things, but that doesn't mean I stopped loving you." Her hand came up and cupped your cheek and you found yourself melting into her touch. "We both need to learn to communicate better. No more running away, for either of us." You were surprised she was including herself in this part, but you supposed she considered taking an earlier flight to Pittsburgh running away as well. "Do you think we can do that?"

"Of course, if you think you can forgive me for being a selfish jerk and wanting you with me all the time."

She rocked her head from side to side a small little smile playing across her lips. "I think I can do that. Besides, I kind of like that you want me around all the time."

You pulled her close, so that no distance separated the two of you, as you wrapped your arms around her waist. "You do huh?"

"MmmHmm." It was then that she leaned up and captured your lips. God, she tasted like heaven. It had been almost four days since you'd kissed her, yet it felt like four million years. You poured all your love into the kiss hoping to show her how much you not only loved her but how sorry you were for everything that you had done.

When the two of you finally came up for air, you asked her, "So when are you flying back? Tell me that there won't be a car here in fifteen minutes to pick you up."

"It's actually thirty."

"That would've been so much more convincing if you weren't smirking the entire time," you told her giving her hips a little squeeze.

"You're stuck with me until Sunday night. That is if I can stay?"

"Are you crazy? Of course, you can stay, but where's your stuff?" You distinctly remember seeing her have only her purse with her when she was leaning against the car.

"Oh, well. I stashed it in the garage before I had the car drop me off at the rink."

"So, you mean to tell me you planned on forgiving me all along?"

"I had some very good advice from a mutual friend, that lead me here." She had to be referring to Cully. You definitely owed him when you got back in town.

"Well, I'll be sure to thank him." You dropped a kiss to her lips again, just needing to touch her in any way possible. "Did you want to go out for dinner? I can change and be ready in ten minutes."

Her arms tightened around your neck, as your hands moved up and down her sides. "I'd rather just stay in and order if you don't mind."

"Not at all," you answered with a raise of your eyebrows. "Though there is something I have to ask you." She pulled back slightly and cocked her head to the side in question. "I was stupid before to assume that you'd just move in with me. So now, this is me asking. (Y/N), I know I can be extremely difficult and stupid at times, but there's nothing I want more than to go to sleep every night lying beside you and to have you wake up next to me every morning. Any chance of making this happen?"

You could see her thinking it over and you weren't sure if she was trying to be cute and make you wait for an answer or if she truly had concerns. "I would love to, on one condition." It was your turn to give her that questioning look. "If it becomes too much, you know being with each other at home and at work; you'll tell me so I can move back to my place."

"Babe, it's not going to be too much. I don't want you six feet from me now. That's not going to change."

"I know but if it does…"

"If it does, we'll talk about it. Like mature adults. I will not storm out of the house and go stay with Geno." She laughed then, the sound music to your ears.

"Well, then Mr. Crosby it looks like you just got yourself a roommate."

"And a pretty one at that," you said kissing her soundly on the lips. "Now, what would you like for dinner?"

"Maybe we should skip that and go straight for dessert?" (Y/N) was peppering you with kisses and making it hard to concentrate. This was your first fight and you weren't sure if you should just give in and go all out for makeup sex or take things slow and continue to talk things over at dinner. The last thing you needed was to make another mistake that's for sure.

Pulling back ever so slightly from the embrace, you gazed at (Y/N). "Are you sure about skipping dinner?"

(Y/N)'s hand slid down to your crotch where she cupped your ever-growing erection. "Yes, I missed you." You didn't ask anything more, knowing that you could always order a pizza later. Instead, your lips captured hers, stealing her breath away before you scooped her up in your arms and headed upstairs. One kiss melted into another and then to another until you were laying her down on the bed that you'd shared only days ago. The same one that had felt too big without her lying beside you.

The two of you were a mess of tangled limbs and you weren't sure who was removing what clothing. All you knew is that neither one of you could be naked fast enough. Your lips traveled down her neck until you sucked on her nipples. Her body arching into your mouth greedily. One hand slid down her stomach, parting her thighs, leaving her open and wanting for you, as your lips started to travel the same path. (Y/N) stopped you though, her hands cradling your cheeks. "I need you inside me." As much as you wanted to feast on her pussy, the pleading tone in her voice had you giving in to not only her wants but yours as well.

You settled yourself between her legs, grabbing her hips and edging her just that inch or two closer. You could feel the heat radiating off her body even before your cock slid between her folds. She was deliciously wet, and being inside her felt like coming home after a two-week road trip. (Y/N) was everything. She was your shelter from the worst storm. The light when only darkness surrounded you. There was no other woman in the world that was made for you like she was, and with every thrust of your hips and every kiss from your lips, you tried to tell her that. You would articulate it all into words for her later when you were holding her in your arms, but for now, you let your body speak them for you.

Her legs started to tremble, and you could feel her fluttering around your cock, as she took you in deeper and deeper. You knew she was close and with a few more thrust, you felt her lose control. "I love you," she cried out, right as she hit that peak, and it was those words that sent you spiraling over the edge with her. Your own declaration of love spilling from your lips.

The two of you laid there for some time. Soft kisses being exchanged here and there as your breathing returned to normal. "I don't ever want to fight with you again," you told her, as your fingers trailed up and down her heated flesh.

"Me either." She agreed before kissing you soundly. "Though the makeup sex, was kind of fun."

You shook your head at her, a soft chuckle escaping you. Sex with (Y/N) was always great. "While that was pretty amazing, I'd rather not have you absent from my life and my bed for four days. I was a mess without you." Just then your stomach growled. "I haven't eaten a decent meal since this whole thing went down."

"Well then, we better feed you before you wither away to nothing." She reached over and grabbed her phone. "I'll cook for you tomorrow. Tonight, you're getting takeout and then after that, I plan on making up for lost time."

"Sounds good, but I also plan on stocking up for our days apart." You wrapped your arms around her tightly, hating the thought that she'd be leaving in just a few short days, but you knew that when you finally got back in Pittsburgh, she would be there waiting for you, this time ready to build a home with you.

#Not So Dangerous Liaison Series #Sidney Crosby #Sidney Crosby Imagine #Sidney Crosby imagines #Sidney Crosby Smut #nhl smut #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #nhl fanfic #hockey fanfic #hockey imagine #hockey imagines #hockey smut

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miss-tc-nova · 3 years

Text

Fools on the Dancefloor - Xehanort x Eraqus

So this was my first fic for the Checkmate zine before I settled on the piece that I did actually end up making. I hope you enjoy because I definitely enjoyed writing it.

Music Inspiration: Slow Dance cover by Ashestoashes

~~~~~

“Yo, Fleetfoot!”

When the pillow—his textbook—flies from beneath him, there’s a heavy THUNK and the boy in white jolts upright in shock. He finally comprehends the pair off to the side and gives his friends a cheesy smile.

“Hey guys. What’s up?” he greets, rubbing at the spot his head met the table.

Bragi snickers, but Vor is a little more serious. “You know Master Odin still expects you to know the stuff you sleep through.”

That goofy grin replies, “I haven’t flunked out yet.”

“You’ll be close if you keep drooling on your book.” Bragi’s upper lip curls back and he’s no longer keen on holding the text. “Gross! How can you catch up when you can’t even read the material anymore?”

“It’s a talent.”

“Whatever,” Bragi scoffs. Little Vor giggles behind her fist while the unimpressed boy throws his arms behind his head and leans his chair back on two legs.

“Are you guys ready for the banquet this weekend?” the girl asks.

“Not really,” Eraqus grumbles.

Bragi groans along with him. “Man, don’t we already do enough to celebrate the Scala founders? We already got the festival, the show, and the lantern thing. We really gotta add a bunch of dumb speeches and some hokey pokey? Why are we even going again?”

“Because Master Odin wants us there representing the future of keyblade wielders,” Vor sighs. “But I have to agree, it’s a little overkill on the celebrating.”

“Some representation we’ll be when only Fleetfoot has fancy feet,” the red-head huffs. “The rest of us’ll be out there steppin’ on toes and Xehanort will probably be flat on his face.”

Eraqus tilts his head. “You don’t think he can dance?”

“Era, not everyone has your prestigious upbringing,” Vor reminds firmly. “It’s a miracle the rest of us have some basic understanding of formal dancing, but Xehanort came from a world completely different than ours. And from the sounds of it, he wasn’t exactly popular there.”

The thought interests Eraqus; finding something Xehanort can’t do is pretty rare. “Yeah, but Xehanort learns pretty quick. We’ve spent most of our lives learning to use a keyblade but he caught up in less than a year.”

“That’s true,” Bragi agrees. “It’d probably take him less than an hour to master the waltz or somethin’.”

A hand slams down on the table, startling the boys enough that Bragi topples backwards. “That’s it! Eraqus, you should do a dance class,” Vor says excitedly.

“D-Dance class?” Eraqus stammers. Even Bragi, once he’s shoved himself off the floor, gives her a skeptical look.

“Yeah. Even if you try to help Xe, he’s not gonna accept it if he’s the only one. So what if we all went? Besides, I know I’m a little rusty.”

Granite eyes look to Bragi who shrugs. “I got the gist of it, but my folks never made me learn so I guess I’m in.”

Teaching Xehanort to dance—now that’s something Eraqus might enjoy. At first, his relation with the new-comer was adversarial, but as their competitions became more and more ridiculous, something stronger grew between them. There’s still a rivalry, but Eraqus began to notice a magnetism drawing him to his friend—a desire to be in his presence as often as possible. Outside that presence, he felt like he was lost in a fog. He spent his life navigating only what was right in front of him, but when Xehanort came into the picture, that smog rolled out and everything seemed clear. The pressure that comes with prestige fades, that outcast feeling he couldn’t shake slips away, and the jubilant act he used to put on becomes real—he’s truly happy when Xehanort is around.

Dragging him from his contemplations is the creaking door; in steps the very person that has no issue overriding Era’s thoughts.

“You guys do know class ended like thirty minutes ago, right?” he states, shifting the box under his arm.

Bragi rights his toppled chair. “Yeah, but we decided to hassle Sleepfoot here.”

“Guess what!” Vor shouts, hopping closer to Xe. “Eraqus is gonna teach us all to dance!”

Well, he hadn’t actually accepted yet, but he can only meet that inquisitive glance with a fool’s smile.

“You guys have fun with that.” The dismissal is so easy it pricks at Era’s ego.

“So then you don’t mind looking like a clown at the banquet?” Bragi says with his signature smarmy grin. Silver eyes narrow at the offender. “Unless you can actually dance—in which case, show me wha’chu got.”

Before Xehanort can retort, Vor tugs at his haori. “Come on! We’re all doing it. We’re supposed to be representing our school—we can’t be stumbling around.”

Once again, he looks to Eraqus as if he’ll get an answer but Era’s being dragged into this just as much as he is.

“Ugh. Fine.”

“Great! We’ll do it tomorrow night after dinner!” the girl announces. “Bragi, come with me! We gotta find the others!”

“Alright, alright.” There’s a clear difference in the enthusiasm and energy, but the two scurry off.

“Those two are up to something,” Xehanort murmurs, watching the door close.

“You think so?”

“Yeah…” The suspicion fades when the youth in black turns back to Eraqus. There’s something soft there that churns at Eraqus’s stomach. “Anyway, chess?” he offers, holding up the box.

“Oh, right!”

The boys settle into their window seat, basking in the sunlight and pushing pieces across the board. Eraqus’s game isn’t up to par—his mind distracted with tomorrow’s endeavor. It’s fleeting, but there’s also the thought of Xehanort looking down at him, smiling, slow dancing. There goes any productivity he had any hope of having today.

~~~~~

Class seems like an eternity and Eraqus can’t even nap through it this time. There’s a strange excitement concerning his dance class bubbling in his brain. He has a habit of half-assing things that involve effort—usually just getting by—but he’d actually spent time last night rehearsing what’s been drilled into his head since he was little. Even his daily chess game with Xehanort can barely distract him from his impatience, earning him a lecture from the boy who won’t accept an easy win—let alone two days in a row.

Eraqus has never been early in his life for anything, he was even born a week late, but today is different; today, Eraqus scarfs down dinner like a starving man and rushes back to the classroom lugging a record player he’d borrowed from the Master. His heart is only just starting to slow when the door opens.

“I told you guys he’d be here,” Vor says loudly.

Urd smirks. “Now if he could just be on time to class.”

Eraqus laughs. “I had to get the record player running.”

“Oh my gods, he’s even prepared,” she gasps. “Did Hermod hit you too hard in class today?”

Not thrilled with the subject, Hermod urges, “Alright, stop teasing him. The banquet is tomorrow so let’s get started.”

The shortest classmate hurries forward. “Psst, Xe’s been grumbling about this all day, so you gotta give him lots of encouragement,” she whispers louder than necessary.

“Okay?” Era agrees questionably. Standing straight, he notices how awkward Xehanort looks just being here, not even meeting anyone’s gaze. “Um, okay. Everyone partner up.”

Vor hops beside Bragi while Urd nudges Hermod with an elbow; that leaves Xehanort—the person who needs the most help—without a partner.

Eraqus glances around. “Wait, where’s Baldr?”

“Said he already had plans to hang out with his sister,” Bragi answers.

“Oh…” Well this un-evened the odds, granted they were already playing with some strange odds with four boys to two girls without the dance teacher, but at least even numbers made it possible to practice in pairs.

“Guess I’ll just sit this one out,” Xehanort says, not at all irritated with the situation.

Eraqus glances to Bragi and Vor who wave him on enthusiastically. While he may have been a bit enamored at the thought of dancing with Xehanort, he figured it would be in fleeting moments of demonstration, not being partnered for the whole thing.

“Uh, no. It’s okay…I’ll be your partner.”

The pair gives him thumbs up but Xehanort looks less amused. “Seriously?”

The teacher shakes the doubt from his head. “Yeah.” He motions for Xehanort to approach. “Come on. I’ll do the girl’s part.”

Cautiously, the boy in black comes closer. Trying to conceal his nerves, the expert props up his partner’s arms in the correct position and slides in to take the girl’s stance. As soon as Eraqus’s hand meets Xehanort’s bare arm, the latter recoils.

“Nope! No! Uh uh! I’m out!” Xehanort blurts out, attempting to flee the situation.

“Ah! Wait!” Eraqus snags a fistful of black fabric. “Come on. You didn’t even get to the first step. It’s really not that hard.”

“I think I’d rather just make a fool of myself.”

“You’d…rather be made fun of than dance with me?”

The response comes harshly. “That’s not what I said!”

The fabric creaks in Eraqus’s grasp while he lets his eyes plead for him. Somehow, in spite of Xehanort’s stubbornness, it works and the reluctant boy turns back with a sigh.

Surprisingly, the class moves forward quite smoothly. Having done this before, the others require only some refinement on their moves while Xehanort is quick to catch on as always. The muscles in Eraqus’s face begin to ache from his uncontainable grin. Even as he’s correcting minor mistakes, his thoughts are teeming with the moments he’s got Xehanort’s hands on him and the static that buzzes across his skin where contact is made

Currently, Eraqus is in the middle of teaching the pairs how to dip.

“The girls should have most of their weight on the outside foot but the guys should still be holding them up somewhat.” Just as Eraqus begins to lean back, he remembers something. “And the guys should never—”

The end of that sentence was ‘lean over their partner’ which is exactly what Xehanort does. This shift in weight unbalances the boys and down they go. Air promptly evacuates Era’s lungs as he’s squished between the floor and his partner.

“Are you okay?” Hot breath ghosts across Eraqus’s nose.

“Yeah,” he chuckles softly, the embers of a fire starting between his shoulder blades. Those silver eyes are so pretty up close, easily mesmerizing Eraqus.

Xehanort helps the boy back to his feet, but as he does, there’s a disturbance that tugs the teacher’s attention to the far side of the room.

“Shhh!” Vor hisses. She and Bragi are in the middle of harassing the other two, ushering the unwitting pair towards the door.

“Hey!” Eraqus exclaims, starting for their friends. “What are you guys—”

His steps halt when the grasp on his hand doesn’t release. With caution, he looks back at his fingers, still linked with Xehanort’s. His eyes trail up the opposite arm to the boy’s face, who refuses to make eye contact. Still, there’s the faintest dust of pink across his nose.

“Show me that one again,” he murmurs.

It doesn’t matter that Hermod and Urd are protesting or that Bragi and Vor are shushing them; absolutely nothing in this moment could tear Eraqus’s attention away from Xehanort. Without a word, he resets his stance, nudging Xehanort to take the lead.

It’s a little strange to be playing the girl’s part in such a formal dance—having been unwillingly taught to be a leader his whole life—but Eraqus ignores discipline. The lesson forsaken, he lets his body react to the signals Xehanort gives while his mind soaks in this little bit of bliss.

Having long forgotten their lesson, the pair slow dances for some time before Xehanort speaks with a crooked grin, “I told you they were up to something?”

Eraqus laughs in response. “Do you think we should tell them we’re already dating?”

“Nah, this is more entertaining. Besides, they deserve a little suffering for trying to meddle. Bunch of conniving foxes, all of them.”

“Us too?”

“Especially you.”

“Me?”

A spark shining in silver eyes expresses that adoration Eraqus used to confuse for less amorous feelings. Knowing what he does now, that look makes him feel so light.

“Hiding all your talent behind that clown mask.” Xehanort’s words hold insult on the surface, but beneath them, in that husky tone, is that admiration. “The skill, smarts, wit…all on top of just how damn gorgeous you are.”

Heat surges into Era’s ears. Afraid of turning into a real clown, he let’s his gaze fall to their feet. However, at the insistence of the hand at his back, the gap between them closes. His brain stutters briefly before the calm washes over him. The warmth against his cheek, the steady heartbeat against his ear—Eraqus soaks in this incredible comfort.

While the music floats through the air, the boys continue to softly sway. This would never fly at the banquet; they’re expected to be polite gentlemen and dance with all the girls—that and Eraqus’s parents would never condone this. He’s supposed to be a proper heir who will continue the family line. Xehanort though, he makes it so easy to forget those responsibilities. Besides, they’re perfectly alone right now, no prying eyes, no forbidding parents; the only thing Eraqus has to do right now is enjoy the moment.

“It’s getting late,” Eraqus murmurs, noting the moon lighting their tranquility. “I didn’t even get to teach you Scala’s traditional dance.”

“Now you decide to be responsible?” the other teases. “Why dance at the banquet tomorrow when we can dance here all night long?”

That brings a flutter to Era’s heart and, from the sounds of it, Xe’s too. “You know the Master is still gonna expect us to be there.”

“So what?”

This boy could make every one of Eraqus’s fake smiles real, all with very little effort. “For once I won’t be the biggest fool in the room, not when you don’t even know the basic step of the Choros Lucis.”

“Oh you’re still a fool; you just happen to be a fool with fancy feet.”

“I guess that’ll make us just a couple of fools on the dancefloor, huh?”

“Sure, but probably not because of the dancing.”

Confused, Eraqus lifts his head. His question dies on his lips, sentenced by a simple kiss that awakens an avarice in the boy. His hands leave their positions, snagging silver hair and preventing any escape Xehanort may have considered. This is everything he’s ever wanted; his whole life, he’s been starved for this unconditional affection. It swells so strongly in his chest he might burst—with a scream, with tears, he doesn’t know. All he knows is that he’s in love.

For a while, the taller boy indulges him, but does eventually manage to break away, smirking at the resulting pout.

“That’s why we’re fools.”

#eraqus #xehanort #young xehanort #young eraqus #xehaqus

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sweetestlamb · 3 years

Text

No Tears Left To Cry

Summary: The hormones rage on as our favorite angsty couple tries to navigate this new layer of their relationship.

Author's note: It’s been a while but there hasn’t been a day I haven’t thought of these twos and their mishaps. Summer break is getting closer for me and I truly want to continue this story for as long as possible, into their college years and adulthood and maybe even babies and all that jazz. Anyway thank you soooo much for my fighters in that sacred chat who give me nothing but positive energy and support, but special thanks to @serxeins who is always the first to comment and shower me with support. It means a lot, I can’t believe people are still reading this honestly, it feels like True Beauty ended forever ago but y’all are still here rocking with me. Now, without further ado I give you Junjin in lust and pain.

"You're in a good mood today." He tries very hard to stop the spread of the smile on his face from growing wider but it's futile completely useless, as soon as that pretty smile and those hypnotic eyes flash in his mind he's a goner. Love drunk on the mere memory of Sujin. Her lips on his own still swimming in his thoughts and shoving all other inklings to the side, there is nothing but her and her body pressed tightly against his as they devour each other. It was messy and uncoordinated but it was without a doubt the best kiss he had ever received.

He was probably her first and he can’t stop the pride that surges at that thought.

I’ll be the first and the last.

"I had a good day." He answers the new worker simply sharing none of the thoughts flooding his head, the owner of the café had finally given in and hired someone to replace Jukyeong after she had quit to pursue makeup full time. It was weird to have someone new there, but at the same time he was extremely proud of her for going after what she wanted. It was about time, he was tired of catching her watching videos on YouTube in the break room and even more tired of her trying to practice the perfect cat eye winged liner on him. Her cries of his eyes being the perfect shape falling on deaf ears. There was no way he was allowing that, he still had a reputation to uphold.

"Girlfriend?" He glances over at the younger boy, they had spoken cordially here and there since he started working here but this was deeper than they had ever gone and he wasn't sure if he was ready to share that much with someone he barely knew. Knew firsthand how damaging gossip could be.

This is between him and Sujin and nobody else.

And this thought makes him start to think critically about their relationship- how complicated and confusing it is and then he realizes with terrifying clarity that he's never officially asked her out. He's hers and he desperately wants her to be his, but beyond the kiss there has been nothing concrete, no words to turn this dream into a reality.

Will you go out with me?

Do people still ask that question or is that considered old fashioned? Does their kiss mean that they're together now? He has no idea how to bring this topic up without painfully embarrassing himself in front of Sujin and it takes a long minute for him to shake from his reprieve and notice that Dosan is still waiting for his reply.

"There's someone special." He leaves it at that and gratefully the other boy doesn't pry, humming as if he understands and cheerfully greeting a customer leaving him to zone out before he hears a familiar voice, a sneer turns the corner of his lip down completely eradicating the smile that was once there.

"I don't need coffee. I'm here to talk to him."

Without pause he tugs the apron over his head, shaking his hair back into place before folding the thick cotton and shoving it in a cubby.

He nods to Dosan briskly, "I'm taking lunch I'll be back in 20," the other boy watches him with wide curious eyes but nods in reply and he walks out of the café certain that he's being followed. He walks further turning a corner until the café is no longer in sight, then he spins around and his teeth clench from the greasy smirk he sees on that scumbag's face.

He shoves his fists in his pocket to prevent himself from driving them into that smeary face.

"You don't look happy to see me. That hurts." Baekyung tuts mockingly, his smile growing wider until he’s looking almost overjoyed and he has to hold on the thin reigns of his control.

"Why are you here?" He has an idea but he wants to confirm his suspicions, Sujin's rejection and another failed attempt to push him away fresh in his mind. The sting still bruising his heart.

"To see this. Your face after losing the thing you want most. It was only a matter of time, she's min-"

He feels when it snaps and he's brutally shoving the other boy into a wall in the alley, his arm tight across the other boys chest.

Thing.

That was what he used to refer to Sujin, as she was just a toy for them to fight over and it makes him reel with pure unaltered hatred for the boy in front of him.

After recovering from having the wind knocked out of him, Baekyung is all smiles again. He desperately wants to knock it off his face.

"Are you going to hit me?" There it is. The tone of the other boy's voice sends a chill down his back. It's enough to force him to let go, retreating far from the other boy. Baekyung sounds elated at the prospect, even rising his chin in a move that's too eager and accepting. He stares at the other boy in unbridled shock finally understanding what's going on.

He had suspected all along, that there was more to the other boy’s story.

His unexplained anger, his entitlement and almost obsessively claim on Sujin. All the times he claimed that Seojun would never understand them, the puzzle unblurs and he knows what he’s looking at now. It looked like a monster, acted like one and hurt others like one, but he can finally see clearly now. The other boy was just another victim, who had decided to hurt others instead of hurt himself. It makes the anger inside him simmer away into a vapid nothingness.

"You want me to hit you. That's why you're here." The smile finally slides off Baekyung's face, but he doesn't stop there raising his voice, "You feel bad don't you? Sujin's she's different from you and you hated that. She's ready to fight and it makes you sick because you're not that strong. You wanted her to stay complacent because it would make you feel better. She told me everything. Your words did nothing but bring us closer, she trusts me and knows she's not alone. Ever. I'm not going to hit you. This is what you deserve, I won't give you an easy way out."

The taller boy flinches at his carefully chosen words, and he nods in confirmation knowing everything he said was true.

He starts to walk away. This isn't worth his time, he already knows where Sujin wants to be and has seen that she's willing to fight for what she wants. This is beneath their bond, what they have is stronger than all obstacles they might encounter.

He's unprepared for the loud cracking cry behind him, it momentarily stops him in his tracks.

"You'll never understand! You're not like us at all you have everything, your life is perfect! You'll never understand Sujin like I do! You have a mom that loves you. What do we have?"

He can't help the rush of sympathy that swells up at the other boy's inadvertent confession. Sujin hadn't told him that, not so plainly but he had figured it out on his own. Noting all the different things the other teen had cried that he would never understand Sujin.

It's another reason why he was unable to strike the other boy. He couldn't bring himself to be anything like those cowards who bullied and tormented others.

He turns back with a sigh, "I know I'll never understand Sujin completely, I don't need that she is her own person. But have you ever asked yourself why you're trying so hard to keep her caged when you know exactly what she's going through? Why does her wanting more make you so angry? Do you even care about her happiness or do you just want someone to suffer with?"

Cold droplets drop on his forehead and by the time he's peering up a heavy sheet of rain is pouring down on them without any warning.

When he looks back Baekyung's face is wet. He chooses to believe it's from the rain but the agony on his face makes it hard to pretend. It feels wrong to be witnessing this, so without another word he turns around, walking away for good.

The café is empty when he gets back but he's not surprised, they only get a few regulars on a good day and rain is known to keep people inside.

Dosan doesn't ask any prying questions but he does shoot him a inquisitive look, he pretends not to see him once again not in the mood to bare his inner thoughts to a stranger.

Instead it drives him to do something stupid.

He sends it before he can second guess himself and then hides his phone from himself and gets back to work, wiping down takes no one will use and wondering what Sujin of doing right now and if she'll smile that cute shy smile when she gets his message.

I miss you babe.

"Mom! I'm home!" Gowoon yells out tugging her wet boots off and tumbling into her house, the smell of bean paste stew wafting through the air and making her stomach grumble in anticipation.

She makes a beeline for the kitchen, looking left and right before sneakily getting a spoon and quietly opening the steaming pot. But just as she's about to bring the spoon to her eagerly waiting lips she hears a voice, "No wonder your mom told me to watch the soup."

She almost jumps before turning around to see who is behind her.

"Unnie!" She cries flying across the kitchen to hug the other girl, smiling when her embrace is readily accepted. She only remembers after that she's wet afterwards and pulls away with apologies on her tongue, but Sujin waves them off smiling gently at her.

Sujin-unnie is so pretty, breathtakingly so. There are countless boys who like her but she never sees the girl around any of her admirers, seemingly oblivious to all the attention she's garnering. She would be jealous of the other girl's effortless beauty if she wasn't beautiful inside too. Always willing to stand up for someone and fearlessly charging into danger to protect those she seemed worthy. For some reason she was lucky enough to be on that list of people although she was a nobody. It still feels surreal that she's allowed to call the other girl by such a familiar name.

"Gowoon ah? You look a million miles away, what are you thinking about?"

Without hesitation she responds honestly, "How beautiful you are."

It's the first time she's ever seen Sujin blush and it's so cute she can't contain her squeal, smiling brightly at the older girl.

"Unnie, what are you doing here though?"

Sujin looks like a deer caught in the headlights at her innocuous question and immediately she regrets it but it's her mother's voice that answers her question in the end.

"I dragged her here after finding her in the rain. Bean paste stew tastes better when you eat it with a lot of people. Enough questions now, go wash up so we can all eat when your brother gets home." It's only then that she realizes that Sujin is wearing one her brother's old sweaters, one from the donation box that they hadn't yet got around to delivering to the local shelter. The huge sweater is paired with her skirt from school, forming an outfit that only Kang Sujin could make fashionable.

Her unnie really is the coolest.

She nods at her mom's order, bouncing off to her bedroom to change into comfortable clothes. Minutes later when she hears the front door open, she knows that it has to be Seojun, so she races out to greet him first.

"Oppa! You're finally home!" He looks taken back by her greeting, lifting an eyebrow at her in question.

"Why are you being so nice? What do you want?"

She cries in fake offense, pouting and hitting him in the chest.

He recoils in pain screaming in a most unmanly fashion, "Hey! Watch the goods, this is what keeps the girls coming back you know."

She grimaces in disgust, sticking out her tongue ready to make a rebuttal but Seojun is no longer looking at her, eyes locked over her shoulder and his face contorting through a slideshow of emotions from shock to regret all in a blink of an eye. She looks over her shoulder in confusion, catching Sujin's eyes narrowed in an unreadable emotion before it washes away.

"Your mom said to tell you both to come eat."

She expects her brother to react similarly to her, and ask the other girl what she's doing here. That question never comes thought instead he throws up his arms and starts stuttering out, "I-I was just joking! There are no girls, there are definitely no girls!"

"What?" She replies having no idea what's wrong with him but he's paying no attention to her now, trailing after Sujin who's walking back to the kitchen looking like she belongs here, with them.

Watching their retreating back she wonders if she's missing something.

Something huge.

With a nonchalant shrug she follows them into the kitchen, too hungry to play detective.

She blacked out.

That's the only way she can describe it, after running out of Suho's place her mind went blank and when she resurfaced she was outside of his apartment. With no memory of going there, her body operating on autopilot.

She hadn't even realized it was raining until suddenly the drops weren't hitting her anymore.

"You're getting wet. Come inside dear."

It was Seojun's mom.

Instantly her body was warmed at the voice and once again her body was moving without her permission, up the elevator, through the door, into a change of clothes and now sitting at the table and eating dinner with them.

She's too numb to feel the full brunt of her embarrassment.

So she slurps at the delicious soup instead, not ready to face the swirling whirlpool of her emotions at least not yet.

His eyes are heavy on her skin, had been since he followed her into the room. Her annoyance at his earlier statement had already faded away, it was hard to be jealous of some imaginary girls when she was the one here in his sweater eating with his family, with his eyes burning through her skin.

With the memory of his text message making her insides squirm.

Another nickname and she had none for him, was too awkward to get the affectionate names to even wrap around her tongue. What would she even sound like calling him baby or honey? She was too embarrassed to find out so she hadn’t replied, just took the butterflies that fluttered in her belly at his brazen message.

Then more memories assault her.

It was only hours ago that they were outside tangled and panting against the wall, his hands hot on her waist and her neck, his tongue hot in her mouth.

Stop it.

She screams at herself, scared of her own thoughts. The shock and anger of seeing her mother hasn't worn off, not the slightest. But seeing him lights a different flame and she has no clue how to deal with the warring emotions in her body.

So she drinks more soup.

Absently listening to their conversation, it's sweet and domestic and makes her ache like there's a gaping hole in her chest.

"Do you like the soup?"

She waits for someone to answer, but it's silent and only then does she lift her head and realize that the inquiry was directed at her.

Oh.

She always forgot that she was allowed to be a part of this. She wasn't just an outsider looking in.

"It's delicious." She answers, voice small.

The older woman smiles appreciatively at her before turning to her daughter and she's off the hook, or so she thinks but then she feels a hand on her naked leg and it's only years of repressing herself that stop her from jumping out of her chair.

"What are you doing?" She hisses at him, too quiet to be overhead and continuing to eat to dissuade further suspicion.

"You were trembling. I wanted to warm you up." He whispers back just as discreetly and her whole body heats up at his words, wordless at his bold declaration.

She has no reply. Nothing besides beating fire with fire.

Finding courage she wasn't aware she had, she places her own hand on his thigh higher than he dared to explore. Preening when he actually does jump and pushes away from the table, admitting defeat earlier than she had expected.

She had barely even touched him, why was he so jumpy?

Both his mother and sister look at him with large eyes and she has to stifle a giggle when he lies about forgetting to do his homework and disappears into his room.

She sips innocently at her soup. Enjoying the warmth and the savory broth.

Before she knows it, the meal is done and Gowoon is traipsing to the living room most likely to watch whatever drama has captured her attention this time.

"It's time for The Noona Next Door Who Buys Me Grilled Steak!” The girl answers her accidentally happily skipping off.

She doesn't follow the other girl, shaking her head at yet another ridiculously specific title that tells her everything she needs to know about the show.

Wordlessly she starts to clean up the table, but almost instantly a small hand halts her action.

"Don't worry about that dear, you're the guest. Junnie will take care of that when he's done ‘doing his homework.’ " She says the last part with air quotes and she tries her hardest not to react, but a bubble of laughter escapes.

The older woman smiles easily back, suddenly looking tired and reminding her that the woman was just in a hospital bed only weeks ago. Feeling selfish she implores, "Are you feeling better now?"

"I'm doing great. Thank you for asking, you don't need to worry about me."

It's already too late, she can't turn off the worrying she has for this entire family.

"I'm happy you're okay." She stills at the warm hand on her cold fingers and suddenly the day comes crushing back.

She feels exhausted.

And she has nowhere to go.

"Of course you'll stay here. It's a storm outside. You'll stay in Seojun's room."

She freezes at the offer, had she said those words out loud? She hadn't meant to.

Then she crystallizes further at the scandalous offer, heat rising under her collar until she's certain that her face is as red as a tomato.

Stay in Seojun's room.

The war rages on and suddenly images of them on his bed fill her head and she can feel his pillow beneath her head as he peers down at her, bracketing her in and slowly leaning down to kiss her, pushing his tongue into her--

"And he will sleep here on the couch."

She feels as if she's going to burst from the torrential emotional hurricane ravaging her body and instead of declining she feels her head nodding in agreement.

I'm such an idiot.

The apartment is eerily quiet, Gowoon had hugged her good night easily accepting that she was sleeping over, and then her mother had patted her on the back making her eyes water when she pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. She'd barely heard the goodnight that followed.

She doesn't know what to do now. Seojun never came back after their moment at the table, she has no clue what that means and if she should be worried. Had she done something wrong?

Leaning down onto to couch she rolls herself into a ball, tugging off the throw that hung over the back of the couch and using it to cover her, thankful that it’s big enough to sufficiently cover her body.

Fatigue finds her as soon as her head hits the cushion and this is the reason that she misses the creaking of a door opening and soft footsteps crossing the room. She almost jumps out of her skin when she feels a sudden weight on the couch right beside her feet.

"Are you staying over?" Her skin pebbles at the deep timber of his voice, the lowing sound cutting through the splatter of rain landing on the window outside.

"I can't go back to Suho's." Her mother's pathetic face stains her eyelids and force her to open her eyes. She isn't expecting him to be so close, sitting on the floor with his face right beside her own.

She wants to kiss him.

The idea is so immediate that she doesn't even know how to deal with it.

So she just decides to accept it. She needs a distraction, an escape from her reality.

She starts to lean forward, eyes locked on his lips inching closer and closer and when they're only centimeters apart she closes her eyes again.

Expecting to feel electricity shooting up and down her body. To feel the current when his lips touch hers and everything in the universe finally makes sense.

But she feels nothing. Just air. Peeling her eyes open, this time she's eye level with his knee and before she can ask him what he's doing, beg him to kiss her until her mind shuts off he's bending over, slipping his hands under her body and lifting. She's too stunned to do anything but let herself be lifted and then carried, her arms instinctively curling around his neck.

His beautiful tempting neck that's dangerously close.

She presses one hot kiss against it, inhaling deeply when he groans at the peck.

"Stop." He sounds breathless and she's tempted to do it again but she reigns herself in, feeling weightless in his strong arms as he carries her to his room, the door clicking resolutely behind them.

He hadn't meant to stay in his room for that long. Her touching him back took him to their kiss in the hallway and if he stayed any longer everybody would know that he was having impure thoughts, thus he had run like a dog with it’s tail between its legs. Once alone he'd taken a cold shower but it did nothing to stop his thoughts, images of her in his sweater and her hand on his thigh gripping him as he stood naked under the onslaught on the water pouring from the shower head.

The urge coiling in his blood. An urge he had been finding it harder and harder to resist lately.

He wanted to. So damn badly it made his head spin but he couldn't, not with her right outside.

There was no way he would be able to look her in the eyes after doing that so close to her, so he forced himself to only shower ignoring his bodily desires..

But after the shower he'd been too scared to go back out. He didn't have control of himself yet, it was too soon. Everything she did egged him on and fueled his fantasies so he decided to stay hidden, she would be gone soon enough. She had never slept over before.

Then Suho's messages shocked him into action.

Is Sujin with you?

Is she okay?

Tell her I'm sorry. I didn't think she would react that way. It's my fault. I wasn't thinking.

He didn't bother to text back instead calling the other boy to hear exactly what he'd done and what he was sorry for.

Suho was as frantic as he'd ever heard him but eventually he got the truth out of him and suddenly he felt like the biggest piece of shit on the planet. While he'd been perving on her and hiding away like a coward she'd been suffering all night and he had no idea.

He didn't even deserve to be her boyfriend.

So he goes to her and he knows what she's trying to do when she tries to kiss him and he's so tempted to just let her, maybe they both need this...

But in the end he stands up, he can't let his hormones take control. This isn't what she needs, and he refuses to be a distraction, not now when he knows he wants to be her everything.

Carrying her to his bedroom is a spur of the moment decision and he expects more of a fight, it's Sujin after all. But he's shocked when she folds into him like she's starved for his touch and is further flabbergasted when she presses a mind numbing kiss to his throat.

It takes Herculean strength to tell her to stop when his body especially one particular organ is screaming, go go go.

He eases her down onto his bed and groans because he knows he'll never get that torturous image of of his mind. Her hair spills across his pillow and he wants desperately to bury his face in it and breathe her in, he draws away before he succumbs and does just that.

"Kiss me."

She looks like sin, squirming on his sheets in his sweater her bare legs peeking out from the short skirt and he retreats quickly, but not fast enough because she's latching onto his shoulders and dragging him back to her. He tries to fight it but she's so strong and he can feel his own strength melting under her seductive stare. She tugs him down powerfully and he feels his arms collapsing but at the last moment he juts his head to the side, her lips landing on his cheeks instead.

She lets out a long suffering and impatient sigh before hissing out, "Why won't you kiss me? Why are you fighting this?"

He can detect the frustration in her voice but deeper down he can hear her fear too, the fear that he doesn't want her. Irrational and stupid. He twists out of her hold, laying beside her eyes pinned to the side of her face.

"Because I know this isn't about me. Or us. I want you. So badly. All the time."

She blushes prettily. He wants to taste it.

"Then why are you--"

"But not like this. Not when you're hurting and you just want a distraction. You know how I feel about you. Don't use that as a weapon against me okay?"

With a gasp she's turning to face him, he hides nothing and he watches as the frustration that was once there fades away and only hurt is left in its abandon.

When she opens her mouth and he can see the apologies in her eyes, he places a single digit against her lips.

"Don't say sorry. If you want to apologize let me hold you."

She stares at him like she's never seen him before, eyes wide and moist and for the first time he doesn't wait for her consent. He can't stand that lonely devastated look on her face, not when she's not alone because he will always be here beside her if she needs him.

Gentle as the wind, he wraps his arms around her pushing himself into her in lieu of dragging her to him.

I'm yours.

The move says and he hopes she can hear it too.

He starts to pat her back and lightly stroke her head, pressing his neck into her face and wrapping an arm around her waist and that's all it takes for her to start shaking in his arms. There are no tears but he can feel her sorrow in every harrowing inhale and exhale, in her fingers tightly gripping his night shirt. He rocks them back and forth, wishing he could drain all the pain from her body and absorb it into his own.

"Why can't she just disappear? Why appear in front of me when I've accepted that I don't have a mother. I have no one, I'm an orphan." Her voice is crushed ice and he wants to kiss her all over and tell her that she has him, will always have him and he loves her, loves her much that it frightens him because he's never loved anyone this much except his mother and sister but he doesn't say any of this. He can't.

This isn't about him. Or them.

This is about a girl who needs a mother and doesn't know if she'll ever have one.

He can't fix this and he won't try.

He simply holds her tight and lets her grieve.

Holding her until she falls asleep in his arms, her head on his chest. So close to that heart that already belongs to her. That is beating for her.

That is broken for her.

#true beauty #true beauty fix it #bmtl #junjin #I'm back #with more feels and more hormones #more action later this chapter was just about comfort #soft saturdays

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starrysupercell · 3 years

Text

Second paternal-centric piece, centered on the highly dramatic Graveyard Fam! The patchwork family <3

Do I put way too many serious thoughts in things? Maybe. But I am a storyteller.

Heavily headcanon based that I've mentioned before.

Warnings: mentions of formerly living in a toxic and neglectful environment, and a current abrasive and struggling relationship between Mortis and Frank.

Ask to tag.

🧟‍♀️📱 Picture Perfect 🦇🎧

Emz awoke naturally, opening her eyes, and blinking away the sleep. She stared up at her ceiling blankly. What a good day's sleep!

She pulled her arm from the tightly wrapped blanket around her and slipped it under her pillow to grab her phone.

She held it above her face to replace the ceiling as the point of interest in her line of sight. It was around 1:30 pm. What have people talked about ever since she went to sleep earlier that morning?

She began to scroll through posts, ready to begin her morning regime of giving only a few hearts to a handful of posts, and maybe even one or two coveted comments from her. (It was best to leave them wanting more!)

However, she froze in her browsing when she quickly noticed a trend in today's posts. A long winded paragraph by some random of how lucky they were, a meme about single mothers, grilling pictures.

Oh, today was no day to lay in bed for half an hour before beginning her day! It was Father's Day. Emz twisted around, trying to roll out of her bedsheets.

"Ogh, stupid covers--!" She grumbled despite the fact that she loved twisting herself up in them. It helped her sleep at night.

The zombie rolled too far one way and gave a cut off yelp as she fell clean off the bed and landed on the ground painfully on her stomach. How embarrassing, she huffed, peeved. She slapped the ground in frustration and pushed herself up with the same palm. She sat on her knees and leaned on her bed, fixing her hair with her other hand. Okay, fail, but at least nobody saw that.

Absent-mindedly, the teen brought her phone up again and unlocked it fluidly. She scrolled through a few posts and ended up giving the first like of the day.

"Wait, no," She said, looking up. She had a plan for today and everything! Emz stood up and slipped her phone into her back pocket. First up, the gifts!

She bounded over to her closet and opened it. There they were. Two gift baskets for today. One for her Uncle, and one for Frank. Emz smiled. They were handmade of course, because premade goodie bags were absolutely lame!

As if she would settle for giving anything less than perfection. No, she hand picked what would go into each basket, decorated and placed it to be aesthetically pleasing, and wrapped it up with a gorgeous ribbon. She's even refrained about bragging about any of this online, to keep it absolutely secret. Man, was she just amazing or what? That was rhetorical, of course. She knew she was flawless already.

Like an instinct to survive, Emz had her phone out of her pocket and in front of her once more, camera open. She winked and stuck her tongue out with a smile, and took a picture. She grimaced.

Ugh, she had to go through her morning routine first and then take another picture afterwards. This was a terrible excuse for a selfie. With that thought in mind, Emz stretched properly, and strolled to her bathroom.

"Talk to me, Franklin. You know it's a mutual effort." Mortis said, poking Frank's cheek. He was leaning over the back of the couch where Frank was sitting at. The big guy tilted his head away with a grunt. His eyes were trained on the television as he tried his best to tune out the vampires.

"...Is this still about the dishes?" Mortis decided to guess since he refused to answer. "I'll have you know that I got started on them the other day. But then I got a call that simply couldn't go unanswered." Mortis paused and studied the lack of change in grump level in Frank. Okay. Maybe not that. "...If this is about my bats, I am not making them sleep outside. They like it in here. Only Robata likes it outside." Still no answer. Mortis tapped on his chin. What else could possibly be on his spouse's mind? It was already hard to believe that Franklin was mad at him, but he was just not budging in giving any hints. (Yet again!)

"Ugh," Frank grunted. "It's not just about the dishes or the bats." He started to explain quietly. Mortis leaned in attentively with a small smile on his face. Oh, it was such a rare treat now when Franklin opened up to him. Even if this was about an argument, Mortis adored the fact.

"It's about the fact that you still make excuses for your laziness." He finished.

Mortis frowned. Except for when he spouted spiteful lies and insults! "They aren't excuses! I'm telling you what happened. You know, you're not the only who lives here, Franklin. There's a thing called--"

"Good afternoon~!" Emz called out, stepping down the staircase with flourish.

Mortis ruffled Frank's hair and lowered his voice. "Hold that thought." With a pirouette, he shot a cheerful grin at Emz. "Poisoned Apple! Good afternoon!" The gravedigger greeted. Frank was annoyed, but he held up a hand to wave at Emz pleasantly. With his other hand, he turned the volume down on the show he was watching.

"Hi!" Emz said, stopping right before she reached the bottom. She was using the railing to hide the baskets. "You guys know what today is, right?"

"....Sunday?" Mortis questioned happily.

"I guess so, yeah," Emz said, "But beyond that."

Frank blinked and shook his head lightly.

"It's..." Emz paused for dramatic effect, and then lifted the baskets into view. "Father's Day! Look what I made!"

"Ooh," Mortis smiled, fangs glinting. He held his arms out as Emz walked forward to hand him his basket.

"This is for you and--" she moved on to Frank. "--this is for you!"

Mortis marveled at the items he could see, and turned it to see it from a different angle. The plastic wrap crinkled as he did this.

Frank smiled at her as she passed it over to him. With just a glance, he could already see some of his favorite things in there, he placed it aside and stood, prompting her for a hug as he walked around the sofa.

Emz was wrapped and lifted up in his large stature, pleasantly smiling. "I'm glad you both liked it." She laughed, muffled.

"Naturally," Mortis remarked, "Your craftsmanship is to die for!"

Emz was finally let go by Frank, landing on the floor. "Oh, tell me about it," she smirked. "I stayed up a couple of days ago finishing those up and they turned out perfectly!" She flipped her hair with an obvious flourish. "You can go on gushing," she said, only half jokingly as she brought out her phone to idly glance through any messages.

Mortis laughed in amusement. Frank smiled patiently. Emz was sharp around the edges, but she was endearingly so. As long as she didn't go too far...

"Oh, yeah!" She put her phone away. "You should both, like get dressed up. There's an event on the beach later on tonight, and I was thinking we could go out today. Like... my treat."

"You?" Mortis voiced for both he and Frank. "You have money?"

"Yeah? I save up. Don't you?" She asked haughtily. "Or do you just not want to go?"

Frank gave short laugh, and patted his stomach in jest. Mortis shrugged in amusement, catching on to Frank's joke. "Well, if you think you have enough for Frank, we'll be your guests, sweetheart."

"Oooh, futuristic," Mortis marveled, taking off the wide-brimmed hat he wore as the Trio walked inside. They were at the Zero-Gravity diner. It was a part of Starr Force's attractions.

A bored-looking feline straightened up in attention as the doors slid open. "Welcome, Civilians!" She greeted from her silvery podium. "Feeling low on energy? If you want to help out Colonel Ruffs in his quest against the Dark Lord, you should fill up while you've got the chance." She recited in character, "Luckily, you're safe here, and we've got plenty of foodstuffs that'll fill you up! So, how can I help you today?"

Emz scoffed. Did Kit not recognize them or something? "You could have skipped the spiel. Like, you know that we're Brawlers, right?"

The cat blinked slowly, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. "Okay. What do you want then?"

"I've got a reservation for three, under Emz."

Kit shifted her focus to the high-tech screen right beside her. It was see through. From the perspective of the Graveyard Trio, the images, texts and buttons were flipped.

Kit pressed through a few buttons, navigating through menus, and then confirmed Emz's arrival. "Alright. If you'll follow me." She picked up three devices from her podium, and began to lead the way through the restaurant. Her tail swished as she walked along.

When they got to the table, Kit waited until they were seated and placed the devices in front of the three. "Press the blue button to activate your menus." She said.

Mortis pressed it, and a holographic screen flashed into view, akin to Kit's own screen at her podium. He laughed. "This is spectacular! We should add a horror-themed restaurant to our section. It would be a hit!" Mortis exclaimed. "What say you two?"

"Ooh, that'd be sooo cute! I can run it." Emz said.

Frank grunted, and pressed the menu button. It didn't spring to life like Mortis' did, so he pressed it again, and then once more even rougher. It broke under his strength.

"Oh," Kit reached over. "Sorry about that. You can hand me the pieces, and I'll get you a replacement menu. I'll be right back." Frank did so, a bit embarrassed.

As soon as Kit was out of earshot, Emz laughed. "Our place won't have cheap stuff like here though."

Mortis grinned. Frank was less than amused and gave a shrug. It was simply an accident, and they shouldn't be rude about it.

Kit returned and activated the device before handing it to Frank. "Here you go. While you look through that, what can I get for you to drink?" She asked, readying a tablet.

"I'll have a peach iced tea." Emz told Kit.

"I'll have a glass of Merlot." The mortician decided.

Great. Now he'd have to drive. Frank rolled his eyes, and looked through the sodas.

Mortis looked over at him. "What would you like, Franklin?"

After eyeing the selections, he pointed out his choice. Mortis made a face and looked at Kit. "He'll just have a Coke."

"Okay. I'll get that to you. A waiter will be right out to get the rest of your order." Kit said. She departed from the table.

Emz hummed and stood up. "I'll be right back. Remember- order whatever you want! I'm paying." She reminded, smoothing out the cute dress she wore and then walking off towards the restroom.

Mortis watched her go, and then moved aside the menu device.

"Okay, Franklin. Let's talk." he interlocked his fingers like this was a business deal.

Frank ignored him, swiping through the menu.

"This is a fancier restaraunt. Emz is treating us, and you can tell how important this is to her, can't you? I hope you do."

Mortis paused for any telling gesture or expression, but Franklin remained quiet. The mortician continued. "Well, it'd be great if you'd drop the pettiness, if only for tonight. This is between us, not Emz."

Frank glowered at Mortis. Pettiness? Him? The big guy shoved aside the device now. He was tired of Mortis' tone and habits and everything.

"Don't even think of causing a scene here, Franklin," Mortis tensed up. "Think about Emz!" Frank frowned.

"Here are your drinks, Sirs." the black cat returned. She either didn't notice or chose to ignore the quiet tension at the table as she put the drinks down and then left.

Frank grumpily put his face in his hand. "Fine. But you're being a dick." Frank said.

Mortis was offended. "How!?" He asked indignantly.

"Drinking without even asking me, nitpicking what I want, and those are on top of the bats and dishes. And I bet you're ready with some excuse now too." Frank listed.

Mortis clamped his mouth shut. He was going to point out that it was only one, and that plain old coke at a more fancy place, really? But, that would just prove Franklin right. "Well," he struggled on what to say for only a second before finding a string. "You always keep things to yourself! How am I supposed to guess what you're thinking? You wait and get mad and then out of the blue, you just attack me!"

Frank furrowed his brows and looked aside, feeling a bit guilty.

"Hey!" Emz arrived and sat down, and scooched up in her chair. "You guys are being an itty bitty loud, you know? I'm sure you don't want people staring."

"Uhh..." Mortis said. "I suppose not. So... Franklin." He said awkwardly, trying to think of some different topic. "I think... our Brawl Ball strategy should change." He sighed, disappointed in himself. How weak of a subject.

Emz was puzzled and looked like she wanted to say something. So, of course, she did voice her thoughts. "Weren't you guys talking about, like being mad or whatever?"

"No....?" Mortis said. "Nobody's mad here. Am I right, Franklin?"

"Uh. Yeah." The big guy shrugged.

Emz pursed her lips. "Right... So this afternoon too?"

Mortis gave a tight smile. "This afternoon?" He pretended.

Emz was merciless in completely demolishing this lie. "This morning, when I walked downstairs, Frank was on the couch with the T.V. on. It wasn't muted, even though you were beside him presumably chatting. That's some weirdo way to talk if you weren't mad at someone." She said, matter-of-factly. "You think I don't know body language?"

"...." Mortis was stunned. Frank laughed at the absurdity. She had guessed it perfectly!

Emz crossed her arms though. She waited for Frank's chuckle to die down. "So, what gives? You two are going to start lying to me all of a sudden?" She looked between the two, waiting impatiently for an answer.

".....No." Mortis said finally.

"Then?"

The vampire faltered. "It's just that... well, you know. The discussions Frank and I gave, ah, doesn't have to do with you? So... why involve you?" Mortis managed.

"Okay? But, like, why lie about it." She repeated. She had an inkling about it now, given both of their awkward glances and fidgets. Her sharp tone softened, and she sighed inaudibly. Guess it was sappy truth time.

She looked down at the table, focused on the closed menu device. "I know you two argue. Like. Duh. That's normal. And, I'm guessing that you want to pretend like everything's peachy because you don't want to remind me of... well, you know who already!" She shook her head. "But I'm okay, really. I actually wake up on my own and not from endless yelling, and I'm not picked up hours late from wherever because you never agreed on whose turn it is to pick me up.." Emz paused, feeling quite at unease from sharing this, but pushed through. This was just another step at breaking her own tough shell. "What I'm trying to say is, simply arguing isn't going to remind me of my 'parents.' You two are leagues better, okay? I know you actually care about me. So you dont have to lie to me. Bicker and argue all day until your jaws fall off. You wouldn't be my Uncle Mortis and Frank without it." She smiled up at them.

Mortis had his upper face covered, just about already to cry. "Emz... I don't know what to even say..."

Frank leaned to her and gave her a kiss on her head. "It means a lot, sweetheart..." he said genuinely. Maybe he still had things to learn... He glanced over at Mortis who happened to look up then from his heartfelt pause. "I think I speak for the both of us."

They exchanged a soft smile.

"How about a picture?" Emz asked as she held her phone up.

"That sounds grand," Mortis sighed contentedly. Frank nodded with a smile.

The graveyard family bunched in together to fit into Emz's screen that she held up for all of them. On their way to posing for the perfect picture, their glasses were knocked down. The mixture of the three drinks short-circuited the menus, stained the white tablecloth and started to drip on the floor. Kit was walking by at that moment to check on another table when she saw the damage. That troublemaking team. Her tail swished around dangerously. She pulled a communicator out of her pocket and held it up to talk into it. She never took her eyes off of the Graveyard Trio. "Colonel Ruffs. This is MerXanary Special Agent Kit. Over."

"Roger!" He answered. There were squeaks in the background. No doubt the new Private was fooling around.

"There's Brawlers here giving me trouble. I'm requesting backup at the Zero-Gravity Diner. I'm going in now. Over."

"Willco." Colonel Ruffs confirmed. Kit pocketed her radio transmitter, and readied to Brawl.

Emz's camera flashed, capturing the moment.

#Brawl Stars #Mortis #Frank #Emz #Graveyard Fam #Mortis/Frank #Fortress #Neglect #Toxicity #struggling relationship #ask to tag

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pinkjeanist · 4 years

Text

“atop a hill of gold” || shouta aizawa

desc.: A pro hero comes to your shop for four shots of espresso after a long night. He leaves with just that, and then some. [1.6k words]

a/n: this fic has the soft energy that this song has. i named the fic after it but the title was weird so i named it after one of the lines. it’s from one of my favorite lgbt+ movies so theres that. i also havent written for aizawa so sorry if it’s eh. [navigation]

Coffee shops were for people who woke up at five in the morning, people who depended on coffee, and people who depended on coffee because they had to get up at five in the morning. They were also for the occasional tea-drinker, though as exam season rolled around, you were seeing significantly less of those people, or you watched those people become addicted to caffeine just to keep up with their studies.

It wasn’t often you saw heroes when you were working, though. The shop was nestled between two taller buildings, and the only people who noticed it at all without a map were the shop’s regulars. So when the pro hero Eraserhead sulked through the doors that fateful early morning, you couldn’t help but be surprised.

The sun had just peeked over the buildings across the street, the last of the storm clouds from the night before making way for its grandeur, and the morning dew still clung fresh to the window. The unfamiliar man that had walked through the doors seemed so strangely out of place. Black hair, black outfit, a white scarf wrapped loosely around his neck atop of slouched shoulders. His whole being collided with the golden glow of the morning seeping past the hanging vines outside and above the shop window, as if he were the parallel to dawn.

You recognized him, but you hadn’t seen much of him on the news- mostly because he worked primarily at night, and because he almost always managed to hide his face from the cameras with the cover of darkness. Because of this, you weren’t expecting him to be so handsome, nor so thoroughly exhausted-looking. The fatigue rolled off him in waves and nearly put everyone else in the shop to sleep.

Your back straightened as he approached the counter. “Can I just get a black coffee? Four shots, please.”

“Ah. The worst combination of liquids in history for the best effects. What size?”

“Large.”

“Of course,” You smiled. You put his order into the register. “You look like you’ve had a long night. No time for rest?”

“I’ve got classes to teach,” The hero sighed. You gave him his price and he handed over his money.

You turned and started on his drink, but spoke before he could walk away from the counter: “Is it too weird to ask what you were doing all night?”

“Uh...a little, but I’m used to weird,” He replied, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “It was just a villain. Took all night to track him down.”

“Wait, are you talking about that ‘Shadow Dweller’ dude? The one with the weird little mask?”

“Yeah, that one. It’s kind of hard to arrest someone who can just vanish into the shadows. Took a lot longer than I’d hoped but there’s not much else I could have done, I suppose.”

“His quirk kind of makes it seem like cheating. Pretty OP if you ask me.”

“I mean, you can’t really cheat at life. That’s just his quirk.”

“Look, I’m just saying, if I were a villain, I’d be throwing my manifesto pamphlets from the rooftops instead of sneaking around at night all the time. Kind of a dick move on his part.” The hero chuckled at that. You finished his shots and poured them in before adding some coffee from the pot. You added a few drops of honey to make it a bit more bearable to drink.

A thought suddenly popped into your head with a heavy feeling on your chest. “Oh, fuck, you get a hero discount. I completely forgot, I’m sorry-” You apologized, hurrying to the register and setting his finished coffee on the counter in front of him, but he stepped forward to stop you.

“No, no, don’t- I don’t really care for the discount. Actually…” He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet again, taking an unknown amount of cash and sliding it into the jar by the register. “...I should probably give you more.”

“Uh-” Your eyes widened at the numbers on the bills in the jar. “-I mean- thank you so much, but why?”

He looked at you as if you should know. You gripped the edge of the counter. “It was nice to have a conversation with someone after a long night. And I had some cash to spare.”

“I don’t normally get tips for chatting with people. Usually I get some from old ladies when I put extra whipped cream on their drink.” He chuckled at that, and you smiled at the sound. “But really, it isn’t necessary. I don’t think I can accept this much money, as much as I’ve enjoyed talking to you-”

“-but you will. I’ve got no reason to take it back.” He sipped at his coffee and grimaced. You wondered how it didn’t scorch his tongue. “God, that tastes like shit…”

“I warned you,” You laughed, nearly giggling. He took another sip and seemed a bit more tolerant of it, that time. Your grip on the counter tightened as you leaned forward on it. You didn’t mean to look him up and down after that, but the side of you that was going crazy thirsting over him at the moment hoped that he noticed. “You should really try to find some time to rest. I can tell you do this often, and it’s really not healthy.”

“I think I can go a few sleepless nights if it means keeping villains off the streets. And I’m used to it.”

“You shouldn’t have to be.” You met his eye, and he seemed intent on keeping your gaze as he took another drink. You swallowed. Yes. He was really handsome. “I mean, if it ends up getting in the way of your teaching, that could reflect back on your students. Where do you teach, anyway?”

He leaned his side on the counter and took another sip. “Yuuei.”

You stuttered for an answer. “Oh- like. Like the school? For heroes?”

“That’s the one. You seem surprised.”

“Oh, it was just like, uhm...a dream of mine to go there. When I was a kid, I mean. But I never got a quirk, and I started drinking coffee when I was a teen, so...thought I’d just get a business degree and do what I love. Or what I’m addicted to, anyway.” Most people gave you a pitiful look when you told them that little story, but he gave you a look of understanding, oddly enough, though you weren’t sure what someone with a quirk could understand about someone without one.

He looked down at his drink. “I thought you might have had some sort of manipulation quirk. Altering flavors, something like that. I can kinda taste honey in this.”

“Oh, I did that, sorry. I used to add honey to those drinks all the time when I was cramming for exams in college. Makes it a bit more tolerable. You know.”

“I know pretty well, yeah,” He agreed. He turned around to make sure there was no one in line before asking, “What’s your name?”

It took you a moment to register the question before you answered it and asked in return, “What about you? Or do you just go by ‘Eraserhead?’”

“‘Aizawa’ is fine,” He smiled. You weren’t gonna tell him how much that name suited him. You were still on duty, after all.

After a moment of silent decision, he asked, “Can I have my receipt?”

Your eyes widened. “Oh! I’m so sorry I forgot to ask, I’m just-” You pulled the receipt from the register and handed it to him. “-I’m a little distracted today, is all. I’ve been forgetting everything,” You laughed with an airy nervousness.

“Can’t imagine why,” He smirked at you. He set his drink on the counter. “Can I borrow your pen?”

“Oh, yeah, of course,” You answered, turning around to the machines behind you to start on your own coffee. You were packing another shot when you heard the pen click closed.

“I’ll see you around. Thanks for the coffee.”

You turned around just to watch him leave for the doors before you could say anything. You noticed the receipt still laying on the counter. “Aizawa, your receipt-!” But he was already through the doors. If he heard you, he didn’t bother. You sighed and finished making your coffee.

Grabbing a rag, you quickly wiped down the countertops before even looking at the receipt. You thought it was kind of a dick move of him to ask for his receipt and then just leave it behind for you to pick up. But when you did pick it up, you noticed the numbers scrawled at the bottom, along with the message: “I get off work at five. Don’t forget to call me” and a little doodle of what looked like a cat next to it. You guessed that was his signature. You made it his icon in your phone contacts.

You supposed Aizawa fit somewhere outside the lines of someone who came to coffee shops because they woke up at five, or because they depended on it, or because of a mix of both. He seemed like someone who came to coffee shops for reasons beyond that of coffee itself. And he definitely wasn’t the first- you’d seen people come to your shop and leave with someone else after a long chit-chat, or leave with someone’s number. You didn’t think you’d ever become one of those people, but you couldn’t complain. Especially when the person who gave you their number signed it with a cat doodle.

taglist: @keigos-dove @knifeewifee @hanniejji @katsukis-sad-angel @wesparklebitch @bvnnyclouds

- dm or inbox to be added/removed from a taglist.

#shouta aizawa #shouta aizawa x reader #shouta aizawa imagine #eraserhead x reader #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #reader insert #coffee shop au #bingo event #bnhabookclub

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poison--ivory · 3 years

Text

Get Back Up Chapter 2

Warning: Injuries

Fast moving blurs of greenery past by the window, leaving Anthony to be at peace nearly this whole train ride. He's only been on here for a day and so far it's been fine, but now he had another six hours, which felt even longer than the whole day trip. He knew he should have brought something to entertain himself, he did grab his phone before leaving, but he wanted to save his battery life and he was pretty sure Val could track his calls. Well, before he removed the implanted tracking chip every stripper had installed when hired. He had his gal pal help remove the chip, which she did with no questions asked. To be honest he was still terrified that Valentino could find him even without the tracker. He couldn't back down now, he needed to stay strong. That's why you ran away in the first place and why you borrowed some cash from ya gal pal. You made it this far, no backing down.

Snapped out of his stupor, a sharp yell caught his ears. Piercing his eardrums, startling him for a second before finding the source of the ear damage causer.

A mother across from him was tending to a baby who seemed to be having a screeching match with them self was the source that interrupted his train of thought. He didn't mind considering he heard worse when he was in his family's business. The scream of final breath is terrifying compared to this lullaby of wails. Tears stream down her reddened cheeks, tiny fist balled up and her legs kicked out. Anthony chalked it up to her being hungry or needing a diaper change, but he already saw her leaving the bathroom to change her, and still more cries and whimpers came forth. He really didn't mind the screaming, but that did not mean others didn't loath the noise. He witness two men and a teen girl try to argue with the mom, not making the situation any better with all the goddamn yelling. Fuckers even wanted to get her kicked off the train at the next station.

Right before he even could stand up to defend her, a middle aged man sitting in front of him stood up. He had sleek black hair with strands of grey and he sported an aftershave. The bags underneath his eyes proved he needed sleep and bad, mainly those bloodshot eyes needed rest. With a gruff voice grunted out a response, "Can you people shut the hell up, your making this trip effing longer with all your babbling. Crying more louder than the actual baby." The two men had a glaring match with the guy before returning to their seats. The girl still wanted to argue, but was snatched by her embarrassed friend sitting next to her. The man sat back down with a huff complaining under his breath that he needed a drink and smoke. This guy sounds like fun and I will emit, he's a little handsome. Although it is tempting to flirt with that sweet piece of ass, he still needs to stay on the down low. Just in case any of Val's friends were anywhere near him.

Everything settled down soon enough, everyone minding their own business now and our quiet journey to Louisiana back on track.

Anthony decided that sleeping was the best time consumer, chiefly with his sore body that was taking its sweet time healing. He felt like vomiting, and the motion of the train didn't really help with the nausea. Paired with the flame that rose in his chest felt unbearable. Groaning he gazed out the window into the orange and blue sky. The purple mixing in beautifully complementing the blue tone and splashing in with the orange, so nicely. This was enough to keep his mind away from the pain spreading throughout his body.

With his mind at ease, he fell in the darkness of his subconscious thought.

_____________________

Jostled awake by the sudden force of the train skidding to a stop, startled him enough that his heart was still rushing with adrenaline. People were already single filing out the doors, with the exception of the mother and that black hair man. He's helping the lady out with her bags, while she carried her baby carrier. Before he knew it he was the only one in the car booth, rushing to gather his suitcase and tripping on the way out he managed to make it safely outside without any trouble. Well besides the bruises and the fractured pinkie he noticed when getting out that cab a day ago. He set it right and splintered it without any difficulty. His chest felt like it's on fire and his leg flared up again when he moved it. C'mon now , Toni you made it this far. You can bear through the pain a little bit more. (y/n) will take care of ya, you just need to bear the pain. You got this. He mustered up the strength to carry on and passed the passengers.

The trip to her house is fucking far, and to add on to that she does live in bum fuck nowhere. A loud rumble came from the dark sky and he felt a prickle on his face. Fucking rain. I could hail a taxi, still have a thousand left I grabbed from the apartment. Full on buckets of water hit the ground, covering his body under a minute.

limping off the platform and into traffic of bodies of people hustling into different shops and corner stores. Lights illuminated the night like lightning bugs. The smell of seafood and the scent of breads made his mouth water.

The city bustling with energy that kind of made Anthony feel contempt with his life in a long time. The cars cruising down the street reminded him some southerners still had old cars fashioned back in the 1940's. Not all, but he saw the occasional cruiser and nearly yelled when he saw a yellow cab and by that he yelled out loud. Shocked when the cab did see him, but didn't question and shot himself in the taxi.

"Take me to this address, will ya?" He handed the scrap paper to the guy, who nodded and placed the address in.

A string of coughing fits caused his throat to get scratchy and sore. Cursing to himself that he better not have caught a cold. Clutching his sides to ease some pain he felt by compressing his waist. The cabbie asked if he was alright, and he answered he's just dandy.

It didn't take long to navigate through traffic and into more urban areas. While the cab driver was in his own world listening to the radio, Anthony couldn't stop thinking about how he was going to just walk up to her house and convince her to let him stay. He started to rehearse his lines in his head without sounding, so desperate. If he was being completely honest with himself he never called her and ignored some texts she sent. He was not a great friend when it came to (y/n), with all the kindness she gave in return he gave back sarcasm and annoyed looks. But, she never hated him,I hope, you had to have done something awful for her to hate you. Not saying she doesn't dislike certain people that rub her the wrong way.

Groaning and clasping his hands around his leg. It went completely stiff, he couldn't feel his entire right leg give out. Fucking perfect. Blowing air through his clenched teeth, tried to bare through the itchy, tingly feeling running through his calf and thigh. Should have gone to the hospital before coming here, just didn't want to take risks.

I'm coming, (y/n).

_________________________

Humming to yourself you tended to the dirty laundry that the kids wore the other day. They thought it was a great idea to play in the muddy brook, out in the woods. They both came through the back door soaked head to toe with brown water and thick mud. Scarlett and Sage had to take three baths for the dirt to scrub off. Leaving the corner tub a muddy and crusty disaster. Al at the time had the day off, which he spent with our son, Liam. He's a quiet kid, and I mean the most silent four year old you could ever meet. Which is ironic considering you married the loudest man on earth. You could be in the basement and still hear Alastor speaking to some of his friends. He hates it when you bring his voice in question or he twists it around to point out your too soft spoken way of talking.

Loading the last batch of clothes in the dryer, you slightly sped walk down the hallway and turned into the kitchen. On instinct headed straight for the coffee machine. Grasping the coffee grounds and filters to place them in their rightful order, before filling up the water tank. Pressing the on switch and strutting away to the fridge to gather eggs, bacon and bread from the top cupboard. Which you nearly died trying to reach for.

Peering out the window, the morning sky is still dark from the oncoming rainstorm. The backyard nearly flooded with puddles on puddles of water, The kids aren't stepping foot outside today. Sighing you knew if they stayed inside your gonna have to clean extra hard, those two are very animated. They'll never run out of energy, you could fuel a city with all that kinetic energy.

A soft thump came from the ceiling above and you guess that Liam fell out of bed. . . again. He's been doing that for a week now. Nothing a doctor visit told us that he was just having really physical dreams. The disorder called REM Behavior Disorder, causes people to rapidly move in their sleep, ranging from person to person. In our case Liam hallucinates, sleepwalks and talks out loud distinctly clear. Dr. Romero prescribed him small amounts of melatonin and if the medication wasn't working he could up it. You really hope it wouldn't come to giving you four year old too much medication. A long creaky noise filled the silence followed by small thumps of feet hitting hard wood. You hear your child sliding down the carpet padded stairway and dragging his feet through the living room and into the kitchen. Your little Liam blankly stared up at you, rubbing the sand out his eye. "Mommy, can't sleep.", trailing over to you and draping his arms around your knee.

"Come here, baby." Picking him up was easy, regarding that he was born pretty early, six months to be exact. " Do you wanna sleep on the couch?" He nodded slowly gazing over at the sofa.

"Can I have milk, please?"

"Of course you can, warm or cold?" He answered warm in a small voice. Then slowly sauntered across the hall into the living room, leaving your field of vision soon after.

Setting the pot down on the stove top and pouring the milk in carefully. Turning the heat up to medium before walking off to prep for breakfast.

Al usually likes his breakfast salty with bitter, black coffee. When you first started going out you noticed his taste very quickly. He hated sweets and anything that didn't meet his standards in culinary. Which he spent most of his time in the kitchen teaching you his method. This was passed down to your twins. They hated anything remotely sweet, you learned to drive around the troubling situation by making less sweet cakes with whipped cream and fruit. They love that sour taste of blueberries the most.

Liam's more like you who like sweets, but not over the top with the sugar. He loves eggs, but has a thing where he trades his bacon for sausage. He told you that he likes the texture of soft meat better than tough and breakable meat. You were quite surprised with his change of vocabulary, since he's just four and you still hear him talk with a certain baby tone.

Shaking your head, you glanced out the window again while the bacon sizzled on a low flame. A yellow cab pulled up to the house and dropped off a tall, lanky hooded figure, who walked, well staggered their way up to the path to the door. Who could that be? Husk was supposed to come by tomorrow, maybe he arrived in Louisiana earlier than expected.

But he would have texted right?

Pulled from your thoughts a few sharp hits to wood knocked you in functioning mode. Hesitantly stepping across the kitchen, and peering down the hall. You stared anxiously toward the thick wooden door that protected you and your family from the outside intrusions. Approaching the door with caution, you played out events in your mind of outcomes that could happen. Standing in front of the door, another round of sharp knocks frightened you and given rise to a series of fluttering heartbeats.

Taking in a quick breath and slowly released it. Grasping the door knob, unlocking the all four locks before leisurely swinging it open to face a tall man.

The drenched frame of a tall, lean man propped up outside the entry way of your house, placed an eerie sensation down the curve of your back. He seemed to be clutching his sides in such a constricting grasp, harsh coughs drew up small amounts of blood splattered on his chest. Groaning the guy began to saunter forward, losing his footing he suddenly, started to fall onward towards you. Barely catching the heavy set male's body weight you endeavor the pressure and drove your tiny body under the male.

Petite fingers latched onto the thin male and crept him over to rest upon the cushioning coach. Gazing down at the poor man face you gasped in bewilderment. Even with his face bloody and bruised you could still make out the who was laying on your couch.

"Anthony! What the hell happened to you?"

Another coughing fit hit him hard before sputtering out a response, "Got m-myself into some real serious s-shit." He tried to manage a smile, but ended up coughing up more small splatters of blood. His gaze wandered over to the other side of the couch. "Where'd ya g-get the kid from."

"We should worry more about the guy coughing up blood, than me having kids." Fun fact about your life you've experienced so many illnesses and deaths in your family that you felt like you could diagnose his illness. "Are you having any chest or throat pain?"

Gagging Anthony responded, "B-been having both f-or awhile n-now with muscle p-pain and n-nausea. F-fucking. . . headaches too." Your father had the same symptoms when you still lived in his house.

"I think you have pneumonia, Anthony. I-t's treatable if we take you to a hospital tight n-"

"No! no, to anything that c-could lead that j-jackass finding me."

"What did you get yourself into, Tony?" Pinching the bridge of your nose and slightly furrowed your brow. If he didn't want medical treatment, then I guess I'll mend him back to health. He is my friend, that did kind of ghost you. But, that doesn't matter right now, I need to save a life today. "Let's move you into the guest room. Not that far of a walk, just down the hall, c'mon now."

Heaving his dead weight up you persevered to the kitchen hall and took a left down the well decorated hall. Pictures of Al and the kids with wild game and the occasional picture of you here or there. Two of the photos consist of you holding newborns. You never did take the time to situate yourself in the photos or you just forgot while in the moment.

The floorboards creaked with each steady step you take. Some splats of blood dribbled down his chin and landed on the floor. You made a mental note to scrub the floors with bleach later on today. Leaning Anthony on the wall for a quick second to open the guest room door. Pulling him back into an embrace and hauled him into the room setting him down on the bed to rest. You left the room to gather clean bandages, ointment, tylenol and hot pot of tea. By the time you left to retrieve the tea Anthony wrapped his body in so many blankets he could get his fingers on.

"Are you that cold?" Considering turning up the heat in the house you were about to leave, but a hand snatched your wrist back.

"Wait, don't leave." You could see the isolated look in his eyes. Veering around you gazed down at the pale man.

"What is it, Tony?" A quizzical look on your face. "You can talk to me you know that, right?"

He shrugged, "Can we just talk, like about your life." He waved his hand off to the side. "Like the kid in the other room."

"Oh, my son Liam. He just turned four."

"Yeah, but who got ya knocked up." You handed him the tea cup and he carefully grabbed it.

"My husband and I have three children and we've been married for ten years." Smirking at his agape facial expression.

"M-married and not one, but three kids. Wait when did you get married!"

"I did invite you through text and letter. Did your address change?"

He opened his mouth to come up with any excuse, but sighed running his fingers through his hair. "Don't be pissed, but I did. . . well. . . ghosted you." Hearing that did make you feel beyond ignored, but keeping in touch with friends is hard and you tried your best to shove down deep in your jar of insecurity. "And I don't really check my mail anymore to be honest."

Taking a deep breath and letting it out you really tried not to get mad at him, but didn't trust your voice in this particular moment.

Anthony opened his mouth, but was cut off, by an amused tone in voice.

"Was I not invited to this magnificent show, darling~."

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jusky · 3 years

Note

Well Adam, I talked with my mom last night for two hours and things were calmer and I’m feeling slight optimistim. Everything personal and moral aside, my mom's worried about me detransitioning + health effects. I guess at the heart of the matter I know this is the right choice for this moment and regardless of regret, I’m currently digging myself out of a number of ruts I’ve been trapped in. Dude! I hate feeling like a shitty kid. How do you deal with feeling like a shitty kid.

maybe i’ll just answer this one and not your multi-part background and question that i’ve been thinking about since you sent it. for everyone else, sorry you won’t have all the facts but i wasn’t sure how to post the multiple messages and i think you’ll do fine with context clues and general vibe if you even choose to read all of what i’m about to say which let’s be honest you probably won’t. anyway...

you’ll get out of those ruts. you’re going to be fine. and obviously like first off you’re not a shitty kid at all no matter how much it sometimes feels that way. like, i think your concern for them is a clear sign of that. but your bravery with respect to embracing your truth despite the difficulties and your willingness to be concerned about yourself if you visit these parents who might not be able to be supportive in the way you need right now is not being a bad kid--it’s being the kind of person every parent should hope they can raise.

to be honest i have a lot of thoughts on this subject. i’m not big on the idea that we inherently owe our parents all that much. i didn’t ask to be born and wtf for a lot of the years i knew my parents, especially early on, i was just a fucking kid! like the weight of responsibility and what is required of us isn’t automatic. a lot of parents in this world deserve absolutely nothing from their kids. obviously a lot of parents were like constant miracles who are rightfully held by their kids as like givers of something that can never be fully appreciated or paid back. but like it’s important to embrace the specifics of your own relationships. i think that there’s a way in which parent and kid, like, become funny labels and roles and like archetypes that haunt us and that rather than clarify can sort of confuse our perceptions about what we owe each other. sometimes growing up my father would be angry with me and talk about how i had like wronged “the family” and i would be so frustrated. oh is the family mad? ask the family to explain then. because don’t you mean you? or do you mean him or her? like in a way there’s no family, just us. people who can speak for themselves and have various and nuanced senses of what we want and need from each other. i just think the experience of feeling like a shitty kid is sometimes tied up in a framework in which you don’t get to be an equal party or like treated as someone who has the right to control their own life,

i guess this is what i’d say about being the bad kid. i’ve played that part. and i have felt bad about being the bad kid, too. to various degrees of intensity on both fronts at various times over the years. much of that experience is about how i have had a pretty major divide in outlook and expectations and many other things with my dad and stepmom. for so many years i had this deep sense of conflict with them. growing up i felt like i was always the bad kid and that i couldn’t ever fully be myself at all with them and that when they were involved in my life i had to be on guard and that i’d never feel like just being myself was safe. and when i grew up i didn’t like that experience and eventually we stopped talking for like a decade. i just kind of went off grid on them.

now today we can talk and we can visit. and i can totally feel like myself around them.

am i still sort of the bad kid? yes, definitely, but it’s kind of ok in my heart and fine ultimately.

really for me i had to accept that i had to put my own oxygen mask on first, no matter how mad anybody was going to get at me. and then in those years of silence a funny thing happened. i think i began to feel solid enough in myself that there didn’t seem much threat from them anymore? and i think they kind of were humbled by the sense that i wasn’t a sure thing and that they’d rather have the bad kid than no kid. so like yes a shift in power happened for sure but it was also a softening and a kind of acceptance i never expected.

growing up i always had these imaginary battles and arguments and like imaginary trials in my head as if i was prepping for some vague future day where my dad and i would argue it all out ultimately and i’d show him he was wrong and do so so decisively that he’d believe what i believed and change things and everything would be fixed.

needless to say that’s not how it worked out. instead we never fixed it really. we never sorted out who was ultimately right or wrong along the way. but you know what? it’s still fine. we can still hang out. we can still be a family. i don’t have to watch fox news with him and he doesn’t have to like my choices. there’s still plenty there that’s good. imperfect is fine. even fucked up is fine as long as it’s not hurting you.

when you feel like a bad kid that’s the pain/worry of disappointing people you don’t want to disappoint. and that feeling can keep certain selfish or shitty impulses in check i think.

but also the truth about being a real person, an adult who has to take care of themselves and navigate a tricky world, is sometimes you do have to disappoint people. it’s often the healthy and responsible thing to do. and parents--even disappointed parents--would do well to really see what’s happening in those moments so that they realize they’re not dealing with a bad kid, they’re dealing with an adult who is doing what needs to be done. it may be disappointing but it’s not unfair.

i think you look out for your parents as best you can but you should make sure to look out for yourself even more sometimes. you seek love, health, and reciprocity. you try to proceed with a sense of both care and integrity.

but mostly forget the guilt. guilt is very limited in terms of how informative it is. as kafka teaches us so decisively, you don’t even need a reason to feel guilty. you often just feel guilt and then start searching for reasons. that’s not where to put your energy with respect to your parents.

i have no idea if anybody else can follow this since i didn’t post the whole initial backstory but i’m really just trying to talk to you and be encouraging. i’m proud of you based on everything i’ve heard and i deeply relate to some of what you’ve said about your parents. it sounds like there might be some good signs now and i’m so glad to hear that.

embrace what’s positive and healthy from them and calmly reject everything else with as much kind patience as the situation allows, but also here’s a tip: reject the unhealthy stuff with a this-is-already-decided vibe, a strictly personal firmness that is declaratory rather than accusatory, you want to say stuff that’s more like “i am not willing to discuss this. i told you i am not comfortable discussing this and i expect that decision to respected.” rather than like “you always do this” “please stop criticizing me!” or like just generally defending decisions or perceptions you have that aren’t actually up for debate. you get to set those boundaries and that really is that. you get set those lines and not tolerate them being ignored or blurred. you just have to be consistent and clear.

anyway i guess i’m saying to just trust your instincts about the visit, like either way. and just speak clearly about what you won’t be accepting from them because you do get to make sure you’re feeling ok. know what i mean? you’re strong and articulate and their worries will ultimately be calmed by the reality of the future you’re heading into. and i’m sure that beneath the stuff they bring to the table that feels unhelpful they must have a sense of the truth about you. their fears aren’t the reality and you may have to help them see reality by not letting them treat their fears as if they’re real and by i guess just fucking letting them see that the very same poise and sense of self that you possess as you make tough decisions and as you’re communicating with them is going to be exactly what you use to move forward and navigate your future--a future which will demonstrate that they didn’t need to be so afraid all along.

god i hope some of that is helpful or at least maybe makes some sense. please do get at me if you want to talk more about any of this.

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patandpran · 4 years

Text

The New Routine

I wrote this a few days ago and I am not sure where it came from. I am still going to credit @yangkoogan @earthfluuke @gaysarawat and even @brightwin (Jelly’s song is so fantastic - go listen!!) for putting these two as a pairing in my head.

I fondly refer to this one as ‘the one where they don’t realize until too late that they’re already dating’.

The gang was down to two. Phuak had left on his education exchange and Tine was attached to the hip with Sarawat or at cheerleading practice. This left Ohm and Fong without much direction, neither of them had ever been at the helm of making social plans so they often found themselves half heartedly doing the same things they had done with Phuak and Tine around: going to bad restaurants, bar hopping and playing too many hours of videos games.

All Fong knew was that he still wanted to spend time with Ohm but something felt off about how they were spending their time together. It didn’t exactly feel wrong as it didn’t necessarily matter what they were doing, it just seemed like they were going through the motions of how they used to spend time with Phuak and Tine instead of making their own way. Fong hoped that this reality wouldn’t get in the way of them continuing to spend time together as there was something very grounding about spending time with Ohm that kept Fong sane.

One day, Ohm showed up on Fong’s doorstep with what appeared to be a picnic basket and a flicker of adventure in his eyes.

“Ready?” Ohm asked and Fong was rendered speechless. Upon noticing this, a flicker of apprehension crossed Ohm’s face before he continued, “I decided we needed to mix it up. Do something spontaneous.”

“S-sure.” Fong’s confusion suddenly turned into amusement but he held back his chuckles by biting his lip. “Where are we going exactly?”

“Adventure means mystery.” Ohm exclaimed, pulling out a pair of car keys and dangling them in front of Fong’s eyes. “We are going to drive until we feel like we need to stop.”

“Need to stop?” Fong questioned. “Do you mean like we’ll sort of just listen to our hearts and see when our intuition tells us to we’re where we need to be?”

Ohm nodded so earnestly in response that it almost broke Fong’s heart. He instantly recognized that his friend was going out of his comfort zone to try something new to redefine their new normal without their other two friends - to prove that they could make a new way of things without Tine and Phuak’s influence.

“Exactly.” Ohm answered. “So get your ass into gear and let’s hit the road.”

Fong slipped on a pair of shoes and was out the door in a matter of seconds. He had no idea what the day ahead held in store but the fact that Ohm was going out of his way to plan something different made Fong excited and nervous at the same time. It was so unlike their norm that it made Fong’s head reel with anticipation. He wondered what had inspired Ohm’s whirlwind suggestion for an adventure but decided not to overthink it too much lest he ruin the experience by over analyzing his friends intentions.

“Ready.” Fong shared as he locked his dorm room behind him and smiled at Ohm.

“Let’s do this.” Ohm declared excitedly before grabbing Fong’s hand and taking off in a run toward the parking garage.

The whole scene must have looked so ridiculous to an outsider but Fong was already having so much fun with Ohm that he didn’t care if they looked completely insane. They got to the car and Ohm let Fong’s hand go before opening the passenger door for his friend.

The action made Fong smirk as he climbed into the car and put on his seatbelt. “I guess chivalry isn’t dead.”

Ohm laughed lightly at the response before placing the basket into the trunk and slipping into the driver’s seat. He rested his hands on the steering wheel after starting the ignition. He backed up and pulled on the main road of their university before asking, “Okay - so, North or South?”

“You seriously have no idea where we’re going?” Fong asked in surprise. “I figured the spontaneity thing was an act and you had a meticulous plan in place.”

“That would be how you would plan it.” Ohm responded and while it could have seen as an accusation if anyone else had said it, Fong knew that Fong meant no judgement with his words. He was just stating the facts because he knew Fong so well. “I, however, am choosing to surrender today’s destiny to the universe and see where fate takes us.”

“I feel like you have been reading too many self-help books. Or actually, knowing you, it was a self-help reddit chain.” Fong shook his head in amusement before chewing on his lip in contemplation. “Let’s go… somewhere with water.”

“You can’t be that specific!” Ohm cried out in protest. “North or South? We’ll see if water is what happens. And yes, maybe I have been down a few ‘make your own way’ threads on the internet lately but, hey, I’m choosing to make this a reality through action!”

“Okay… North!” Fong answered loudly, matching Ohm’s slightly manic energy. He knew his friend was excited about the prospect of paving their own way so he would lean into that as much as possible. This was already the most exciting thing they had done in months and they had barely even left campus yet.

“North it is.” Ohm agreed and turned onto the ramp that led North and merged onto the highway.

They settled into a comfortable silence for a while, unsure of how they were going to decide when exactly the right moment was to stop but both Ohm and Fong were simply enjoying their shared time together, especially with no specific criteria on their plans for the day aside from a picnic and a drive.

“I… made a playlist.” Ohm announced about ten minutes into their drive and looked surprisingly embarrassed by the admission.

Ohm had never shown much interest in music so Fong was pleasantly amused by the fact that his friend had gone out of his way to curate a playlist for their mini road trip. It made Fong realize that Ohm had actually put a lot of thought into their plans for the day despite wanting it to see like a ‘spontaneous’ proposition.

“Put it on.” Fong encouraged his friend and Ohm quickly connected his phone to the car’s speaker system.

As the first song began, Ohm turned his attention back to the road and started humming along with the first song which happened to be one by Scrubb. Fong watched Ohm start to bob his head along with the music through his peripheral vision and the sight made something in his chest ache and wish he had seen more of this side of Ohm before. This unguarded, completely in the moment and open to whatever possibility came their way version of his best friend fascinated Fong and he couldn’t wait to see where it took them.

The next song on the playlist was by CtrlS and Fong couldn’t help but be shocked. Ohm had never been particularly on board with the Tine and Sarawat situation, mostly because Ohm was so protective of Tine. Fong had been forced to do some major convincing to get Ohm to tolerate Sarawat’s presence so he was shocked to hear a song by Sarawat’s band on the playlist.

“Don’t even start.” Ohm blurted out before Fong could call his friend out on his hypocrisy. Ohm continued over Fong’s laughter, “Just because I like his music does not mean I like him.”

Fong rolled his eyes at how stubborn Ohm was. He knew that it came from a place of fierce protectiveness for his friend and it made Fong realize just how much Ohm cared for the people around him, despite how much he tried to downplay the emotions that he let others see.

“Fair enough.” Fong responded before spotting what looked like a green space of off the highway. “Hey! What if we stop here?”

“See? Told you it would just happen.” Ohm’s eyes lit up immediately and all the negativity that came with Sarawat being brought up melted from his expression.

Fong couldn’t help but feel a wave of fondness flow over him as he watched his friend relax into his usual positive demeanour. He turned off of the highway and found a parking spot near their destination. He hoped there was some sort of body of water to wade into considering the sun was beating down so intensely that his forehead had a fresh layer of sweat on it despite the car’s air conditioning.

“Here.” Ohm reached over after he shut off the car and pressed a handkerchief to Fong’s forehead before Fong even registered what was happening. Fong’s breath hitched at the close proximity and suddenly noticed the array of colours that were housed in Ohm’s eyes.

Ohm pulled away the handkerchief and gave Fong a funny look, “Do I have something on my face?”

“N-no.” Fong’s cheeks burned at the question. “Thanks for that. Let’s try to find the water.”

Ohm pocketed the handkerchief before he shrugged and jumped out of the car. Fong collected himself and got out of the car as Ohm grabbed the basket from the trunk. Fong spotted the water in the distance and he raced toward, whether to escape the conflicted feeling he was experiencing or just because he loved the water so much, he wasn’t sure.

Fong heard Ohm trying to keep up with him as he reached the shoreline. Fong was thankful for the breeze as it helped calm down the blush that was presently on his face. He needed the momentary distance to recover from whatever the hell was going on between him and Ohm. The foreign feeling had popped out of nowhere and he felt himself struggling to navigate it.

“Are you going to go in?” Ohm asked and threw an arm over Fong’s shoulder.

The contact that usually felt platonic and casual suddenly was charged with something that Fong couldn’t quite place but he didn’t dare to separate himself from Ohm in fear that Ohm might read it as Fong being uncomfortable with the choice of outing.

“I don’t think so. I’m happy to just dip my feet in.” Fong murmured and looked toward his friend. The sun was dancing across Ohm’s face and Fong was taken aback by how serene the image was. His mouth felt dry and he was struggling to put words together but finally he managed to blurt out, “Should we find a spot to eat something?”

“That sounds great.” Ohm nodded firmly and moved his hand to grasp Fong’s again as if the gesture was something they did on a regular basis instead of it being a new occurrence. Fong was surprised to find himself relaxing into it and even finding comfort in the connection.

Ohm led them to a grassy spot in the shade of a tree and let go of Fong’s hand before opening up the basket. Fong watched as Ohm pulled out a blanket and draped it across the ground. A fleeting thought of just how romantic the whole scene was appeared in Fong’s mind and he was back to square one with a new layer of sweat spreading across his forehead, this time inspired by how nervous he suddenly felt. He obviously was overthinking this whole thing and Ohm was just trying to do something fun and different for his friend without thinking about the specific parameters of how date-like the whole setup was.

“I didn’t know exactly what you would like in terms of sandwiches so I made a tuna salad one and a peanut butter and jelly.” Ohm explained as he pulled out a few containers as he sat down on the blanket. “I also have a bunch of fruit and some drinks if you want one.”

Fong had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from grinning widely at how adorable the whole situation was. Ohm looked at Fong expectantly and patted the empty space beside him on the blanket as an invitation for Fong to join him. Fong sat down and answered, “I think I’ll go for the peanut butter and jelly.”

“I figured that would be the case.” Ohm shared, seemingly pleased with himself as he handed Fong the container with the sandwich.

Fong opened up it up and began to munch of his sandwich as Ohm opened up the rest of the containers, humming absentmindedly as he went about the work. Ohm reached into the basket again and pulled out a container which appeared to be filled with lemonade.

“I’m so tired of those chewie drinks we have all the time.” Ohm shared, “So I made some lemonade from scratch!”

Fong was quite overwhelmed with the time and effort that Ohm had put into all of this - he wasn’t quite sure how he was going to make up for this the next time they went out together. Without thinking, he muttered, “I don’t think I’ve put this much effort into an outing even if it was for an actual date.”

Ohm suddenly froze and Fong immediately realized the implications of what he just said. Fong began to flounder for how to possibly retract the words or somehow play it off as a joke but the silence that stretched between he and Ohm made Fong feel like he was drowning. It wasn’t exactly awkward, it was just… heavy.

Shockingly, Fong didn’t find himself particularly afraid of the weight behind his words, he was more worried that he had made Ohm overthink his actions as much as Fong overthought his own. Ohm was the definition of carefree so the fact that he seemed to be absorbed in thought meant that he was seriously considering the words that Fong’s filter hadn’t quite caught.

“I…” Ohm began to speak and stopped himself before starting up again after he looked directly into Fong’s eyes, his gaze quite serious. “Would it be okay if it was an actual date?”

Fong felt his heart leap into his throat at the question. He knew that something had shifted between them since they started to spend time just the two of them but he had never been brave enough to admit that their relationship had started to lean toward something more than just friendship. It was somewhat of a relief for Fong to realize what had changed and in a moment of blind courage, he reached across and took Ohm’s hand in his.

“Yah.” Fong assured Ohm who looked as if he was terrified to hear how Fong was about to respond. “I think that would be more than okay. It’ll be like our new… routine.”

“How can you still be so rational at a time like this?” Ohm burst out laughing, throwing his head back before collecting himself. “But that’s what I think this works so well…”

Ohm squeezed Fong’s hand reassuringly and Fong’s mind was flooded with possibilities of what was next for them. He sighed deeply and Ohm pulled him closer so that Fong’s head could rest on Ohm’s shoulder. When the close proximity had made him panic before, it now made Fong completely relax into…

Their new normal. Their new routine.

Because sometimes you just have to try something new to uncover something that was already there.

#ohmfong #ohm x fong #2gether #2gether the series #my writing #thai bl #gmmtv #sarwatine #still 2gether #I am still not over these two and I dont know if I ever will be

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kiapet2 · 3 years

Text

Aperture Sides Facility, Chapter 13: A Minor Case of Major Brain Damage

Masterpost

Chapter Summary: In which Thomas takes a trip through the past.

Chapter Warnings: Unethical Experimentation, Non-Consenting Test Subjects, Semi-Suicidal Ideation

Falling.

You don’t know for how long you’ve been falling, but it feels like far longer than a person should be able to fall, and when you look down you still can’t see the bottom. The elevator shaft is just small enough that you could probably brush your fingers on either side if you stretched your arms out, but unlike last time no plastic tubing appears to whisk you off to somewhere else Occasionally you pass an open floor, but they whizz by too quickly for you to see much of anything.

Just like your previous fall down this shaft, below you is obscured in darkness, the true depth of the shaft a mystery. You guess you’ll finally get to see what’s at the bottom, one way or another.

You close your eyes and steady your breathing for what could be seconds or minutes, trying not to think about what’s coming. Then there’s a jolt accompanied by a massive crash, and your world tilts and goes black.

Groaning, you blink your eyes open as the world gradually fades into focus. Above you, a vertical tunnel stretches into infinity, broken boards hanging off the edges from where you apparently broke through. The metal elevator shaft is not embedded in a wall or ceiling as you would expect but rather hanging down into open air; the actual ceiling of this room is so far above you, you can’t even see it. Instead, the distance above you looks hazy, almost like you’re outside on a cloudy day.

You sit up, checking yourself over and finding no visible wounds, though your body feels like one massive bruise. The Portal Gun is lying next to you and you pick it up, turning it over in your hands and finding no indication that it’s broken.

So, the good news is you’ve officially survived the fall intact. The bad news is, you’re trapped in the bowels of a facility that’s about to self-destruct, and by the look of this elevator shaft you’re not likely to find transportation back up.

The area surrounding you couldn’t be more different from the rest of the Aperture Science facility if it tried. Where the test chambers were sleek and sophisticated, this looks almost like a junkyard, all twisted metal and crumbled stone. If this place is even part of the actual facility, it hasn’t been used for a long time.

You couldn’t have picked a better place to really make you realize how truly alone you now are.

You’ve felt alone before. It can be hard to remember, now that you’ve become used to one of not many friends peering over your shoulder, giving advice and making jokes at your- or each others’- expense, but when you first woke up here it was to large, empty chambers with no company other than a distant Voice. You remember how relieved you were when you first met Logan, how worried you were every time he or the others left, terrified that this time they wouldn’t come back.

And yet, during all that time you never were as alone as you thought you were. Janus was watching you the whole time, giving his sarcastic two cents even as he tried to pretend to be distant and robotic, and the others never even considered abandoning you like you feared.

Now, you’re much too far away for Janus to see you, even if he was still in a position to be able to do so. Not that he would want anything more to do with you anyways, not after you betrayed the trust he so rarely gives in the first place. And as for the others, well. They were always going to side with Patton over you, weren’t they?

God, Patton. It’s hard to believe your optimistic, friendly companion could have become the nightmarish entity that just tried to take your freedom once again. You should have had him taken out of there at the first sign of trouble, should have done something to help him instead of just watching as your friend was subsumed by whatever malignant consciousness exists in this place. But you didn’t do anything when he needed you most, and now it’s too late. Too late for him, and too late for you.

For a moment, you’re tempted to lie back down, try to sleep and forget until the facility blows up and comes crashing down on top of you. Or, failing that, until you die of hypothermia or thirst. Why bother trying to find your way out of here, when all your previous attempts only hastened your inevitable demise? Can’t you just rest, for once in your short post-cryosleep life?

But even as you consider the thought, something in you rejects it, some deep survival instinct that refuses to let you just lay down and die. You owe it to the others, owe it to Patton, to see this through, even if the inevitable end is your death.

Sighing, you tentatively push yourself to your feet as your legs groan in protest and, not sure what else to do, begin picking your way through it, looking for a way out, or at least forward.

You make your way through the rubble, navigating your way around walls, fences and pits using carefully placed portals. The ground slopes gradually down, going deeper and deeper into the bowels of the facility, and as you continue to descend you start to pass signs, saying ominous things like Keep Out and Do Not Enter.

You probably should be at least a little concerned about that, but you can’t muster up the energy to really care. Your feet stamp out a regular rhythm on the ground, right-left-right-left, and you lose yourself in the monotony of walking as you move further downward. Eventually, you come to a metal door, similarly marked with warning stickers, and with some carefully placed portals through broken windows are able to move past it, into what's hidden behind.

Walking through the final door, you find yourself entering what appears to be some kind of waiting room, faded and decayed with age. As you watch, a large metal piece falls off a large iron sign hanging above the room, a piece you belatedly realize is the shape of the Aperture Science logo.

A voice suddenly sounds from the speakers, making you jump.

Welcome, gentlemen, to Aperture Science. Astronauts, war heroes, Olympians- you’re here because we want the best, and you are it. So: Who is ready to make some science?

The voice chuckles, and you glance around yourself, confused. It doesn’t sound like anyone you've spoken with during the time you've been awake, and has a different quality to it than the announcements you’re used to hearing- tinny and faded, like an old-timey radio announcer, but despite all that it still twinges a recognition deep within you, like this is someone you used to know.

Now, you already met one another on the limo ride over, so let me introduce myself. I’m Cave Johnson. I own the place.

There’s a thousand tests performed every day here in our enrichment spheres. I can’t personally oversee every one of them, so these pre-recorded messages’ll cover any questions you might have, and respond to any incidents that may occur in the course of your science adventure. Those of you helping us test the repulsion gel today, just follow the blue line on the floor. Those of you who brought in your pets for behavior therapy, I have good news and bad news. The good news is that they definitely won’t be chewing your shoes anymore. The bad news is it’s because they don’t really have teeth. Or mouths. Or head. Very well behaved, though! Anyways, so long for now, and happy testing!

You wait for a few more moments, but the recording- if it is actually that, and not another AI trying to trick you- seems to have stopped.

You look around again at the old waiting room surrounding you- a piece of history, Aperture Science when it was run by humans and their recorded announcements rather than the AIs who populate otherwise abandoned test chambers. You guess it makes sense that there must have been humans in this place once- the abandoned offices are proof enough of that, and Logan mentioned that he and the others were made by and from humans.

Your heart twinges, and you shove down thoughts of the others. You're on your own now, might as well make the best of it and push forwards.

The doors leading forward are high in the walls and the catwalks used to reach them have fallen away with age, but you’re able to finagle your way to them anyways by riding an elevator in the center of the room upwards and then using the momentum from jumping down the shaft to fling yourself over. It’s so weird to think that you used to be afraid of a simple one-story fall.

The old recording whirrs back to life as you enter the next chamber. Welcome to our next test on the Repulsion Gel, Cave Johnson’s voice says. Now, the boys over at Medical told me we should be giving testers regular drink breaks and not carrying out testing for more than four hours at a time. Well I think I speak for all you fine fellas when I say we’re not going to let a buncha namby-pamby whitecoat bigwigs get in the way of our science! If you pass out, we’ll send a retrieval bot to pick you up and carry you off to the nursery with the other babies. Now let’s get going!

In front of you is a test chamber. It’s older, with walls made out of metal and concrete rather than the sleek, moveable tiles that made the test chambers you’re familiar with, but still recognizable.

You start laughing, hard enough that you need to sit down. Even down here, even with no one else around, you’re still testing. Playing the good little lab rat, solving puzzles while you wait for the scientist to pull the plug. That’s all you’ve ever done here, isn’t it?

You take some big, whooping breaths, trying to calm yourself. You’re not sure how you know to do it, but you start counting breaths: in for four counts, hold for seven, out for eight. It takes a bit of time, but eventually you are able to get yourself to calm down, your aching abdomen the only sign that you lost control of your emotions.

Looking at the test chamber in front of you again, you notice that it’s astonishingly easy- jumping and then bouncing off the blue gel to get to the other side of a gap. You breathe deep again, closing your eyes and steeling yourself. You’ve done test chambers where you flung yourself across giant rooms filled with toxic sludge while turrets shot at you in the air; you can handle a few antique ones down here. Then you open your eyes and take a running jump.

Welcome to the Enrichment Center, Cave Johnson’s tired voice says. As you’ve made your way through the abandoned offices and test chambers that make up this old place, you’ve listened to his recordings become less enthusiastic, more run down, listened to him start talking about things like stolen inventions and bankruptcy and being forced to recruit new testers from the streets for practical pocket change. But you’ve never heard him sound quite like this- so raspy and worn he almost seems half-dead.

Since making test participation mandatory for all employees, the quality of our test subjects has risen dramatically. Employee retention, however, has not. He coughs, a harsh, rattling sound that sounds like it must tear at his throat. As a result, you may have heard we're gonna phase out human testing. There's still a few things left to wrap up, though. First up, conversion gel.

The bean counters told me we literally could not afford to buy seven dollars worth of moon rocks, much less seventy million. Bought 'em anyway. Ground 'em up, mixed ‘em into a gel. And guess what? Ground up moon rocks are pure poison- I am deathly ill. Great portal conductors, though. So now we're gonna see if jumping in and out of these new portals can somehow leech the lunar poison out of a man's bloodstream. When life gives you lemons, make lemonade. He coughs again, harder. Let's all stay positive and do some science.

The recording clicks off, and you wince. You don’t really like Cave Johnson- he sounds like a bit of a jerk, honestly, and you can’t help but feel he’s at least indirectly responsible for the situation you’re in now- but hearing him like that, sad, hopeless, and slowly dying, is just painful. You find yourself wishing he did manage to get better, though you know that he’s likely long dead by now either way.

Focusing again on the task at hand, you make your way through the abandoned office and out a back door, coming out in old maintenance hallways, all smooth concrete walls striped with metal pipes. You come to a large, round vertical shaft, and while the walls themselves won’t hold portals, there’s enough scaffolding and smooth platforms to let you pick your way up with strategically-placed portals and the careful use of flinging.

Cave Johnson’s voice again fills the shaft when you’re about halfway up. He seems to be… ranting about lemons? And lemon-related weapons that burn people’s houses down? It’s kind of hard to follow when you’re so focused on the task at hand, though you almost find yourself wishing Remus was around- you’re pretty sure he’d get a kick out of it. Remus would enjoy a lot of the stuff down here, actually. The thought is slightly horrifying.

Johnson has collected himself by the time you reach the top, and this time you stop to listen.

The point is: If we can store music on a compact disc, why can't we store a man's intelligence and personality on one? So I have the engineers figuring that out now.

Brain Mapping. Artificial Intelligence. We should have been working on it thirty years ago.

The recording ends. You stand there for a bit, feeling like you’ve been hit over the head with a metal pipe. Artificial Intelligence. He’s talking about creating the program that made the others. Talking about using the program to download his own personality into an AI. Logan had mentioned that he and the others were developed from a human man’s personality, but you hadn’t ever stopped to think about what exactly that meant- that they are all aspects of someone who was a living, breathing person. Someone who was the head of this facility, no less.

Could you see the others in him? Remus, definitely, with his love of weird and dangerous science. Roman, maybe, in how dramatic Johnson seemed to have been, and Janus with his disregard for people he saw as beneath his notice. Logan and Patton are harder sells; Cave Johnson didn’t seem all that intelligent- rather anti-intellectual, actually- and he certainly wasn’t empathetic or kind. And he definitely wasn’t careful or restrained, either, so Virgil is right out. Maybe extracting certain parts of his brain exaggerated those aspects of his personality?

But then, if Cave Johnson’s goal was to be immortal, why split his personality into component parts in the first place? Why not just download his personality wholesale? Or did that turn out to be impossible?

By now the mystery has dug its claws into you, and you find yourself itching for more answers, more context on how exactly this came about. It’s a nice distraction, at least, from your imminent demise and the fact that none of the people you’re learning about actually want anything to do with you anymore.

And yeah, not thinking about that right now. You shake your head as if it could dispel the painful thoughts, and keep moving.

This time, when you find another stretch of abandoned offices you don’t immediately head back behind them, but instead move within the halls of the facility, using portals to traverse places that are locked or where the floor has fallen in. You move on instinct, maneuvering these hallways like you’ve done it a thousand times. You don’t consciously choose your destination, but aren’t terribly surprised when your steps take you up to an office door, the words CAVE JOHNSON, CEO engraved on a golden plaque at eye level.

The office is locked, so you smash the small office window, then shoot a portal through it to the opposite wall. The office is large but stripped almost bare, with an old computer desk and several file shelves all that remain. There are rectangles on the walls and floor, places where fancy furniture and paintings presumably used to be, and everything is covered with such a thick layer of dust you’re a little afraid if you disturb anything too much you’ll start coughing and not stop.

You move over to the computer, an old, boxy model, and start it up. Miraculously, it still works, and you’re soon greeted with an old DOS screen, black with white lettering asking you to input commands. You sift through Cave Johnson’s file cabinets, sifting through a pile of floppy disks before pulling one out with a victorious cry.

You slip the disk labeled PRE-RECORDED MESSAGES into the computer, then type in the appropriate command and start going through files.

Not having the time or patience to go through every single audio file, you scroll down to the last one and open it, intending to start from the latest created files and go back. You open it and the sound of an old audio recording once again fills the room.

Hello, sir, you wanted to see me?

Your head shoots up. That voice feels intensely familiar, in a way that tickles the back of your mind, but you can’t quite-

Thomas, my boy!

Your breath catches in your throat.

Come in, come in. Take a seat, make yourself at home. Have some tea, if you want.

No thank you, the second voice- YOUR voice- says, I’m more of a coffee person.

Probably a good idea, the last batch was exposed to radiation from Lab C and well, long story short we’re still not certain if it’ll give you bowel cancer. But enough about the unimportant things! I’ve been looking over your files, and I must say I’m impressed- you seem to be quite the renaissance man! A degree in chemical engineering, a relatively successful career in the theatrical arts, a damn near spotless record in our part-time development team, and it looks like you’ve been making quite a stir in the media department’s new short video program. What was it called, Stem? Ivy? No no, don’t tell me, I’ll get it eventually. I doubt that sort of thing will ever catch on anyways. But the point is it shows initiative, which is something I like to see in my employees!

Thank you, sir?

You are quite welcome, you’ve earned it! Now the folks in our tech department have been telling me they want someone with a well-rounded mind for the initial AI development tests, and I think you fit the bill. And you’re not a vital employee, which is good because we’re still not quite sure what being copied into a computer does to your brain. Best case scenario, you wake up from cryosleep in a few weeks with one heck of a headache, worst case scenario is brain death. But hey, chances are at least part of you will get to be immortal, so I’d say that’s a gamble worth taking!

Whoa whoa whoa, hold up. Cryosleep? Brain death?! I didn’t sign up for anything like that. I’m not even a tester!

Now, now, no one’s ever won at life by playing it safe. The AI initiative is our most high profile development right now, being selected to test it is quite the honor! And testing is mandatory for all staff as of last week, so don’t worry about being in the wrong department.

I- It’s not that I’m not honored or anything. But I really just want to go back to my desk. I’m sure you can find someone else, right? Surely someone is better suited to this than me.

I appreciate your humility, Sport, but I’m afraid it wasn’t a request. You’ll thank us eventually. Assuming that you, you know, wake up. Good luck!

Wait, wait no, let go of me! your voice screams, desperate and terrified. Please, please I don’t want this, I don’t want this, WAIT-

The recording fizzles out mid-scream. After a moment, it whirrs back to life.

Right, so you boys should probably edit some of that out in post, Cave Johnson's tired voice says. Every experiment needs initial trials, right? Like a taste tester, but for your brain. Anyways, you've got your subject, so get to work, alright? We- he breaks off into a coughing fit- we don't have much time left. Let me know when things are ready for me. Until then, this is Cave Johnson, signing out.

There’s a few more seconds of white noise, and then a click as the recording comes to a stop, leaving you in silence once more.

Your legs give out from under you and you sit down, hard. Your mind is whirling, the echoes of your own screams still sounding in your head.

How could they do that? How could they just do that? Take you away from everything you’ve ever known, without even leaving you memories of what you’d lost, and for what? So a CEO could get his immortality?

The thought that you had a life before this, that you had a family before this, had occurred to you before- how could it not?- but it always felt distant, unreal, like a dream. But it wasn’t. You had a degree, a career, a life outside of this place. What did the people from that life think when you disappeared? Did Aperture Science tell them you’d died, or just let them wonder what happened to you? Are they still out there, missing you?

You shake your head, forcibly reeling your thoughts in. You’re going to destroy yourself if you keep going like this. You need to pull yourself together.

And once your thoughts stop reeling quite so much, a new thought occurs to you. Johnson said that you were being taken for the AI program- that they were going to copy you into a machine. The Cores said they were made from a human man, and you assumed based on the previous recordings that human man had been Cave Johnson. And maybe they were- Johnson told you they were using you for preliminary testing. Wouldn’t they have moved on to him once they were done with you?

And yet, all sorts of little things are adding up in your brain, things you had noticed but never bothered to linger on- never thought to connect to each other. Singing and performing a theater song with Roman, your voices perfectly in sync. Trading silly puns with Patton. The way your heart would always leap into your throat at the exact time Virgil started giving you trouble. And most painfully, Janus’s parting words: you may act the part of an innocent little lamb, but deep down you’re every bit as devious and cutthroat as I am.

Could the others… be made from you?

Your heart pounds in your chest. You need to find out more. You need to know if this is real, or just wishful thinking. You fish through Johnson’s files, half-frantic, but can’t find anything on the subject.

Then, finally, you find in the paper files a report from the development Project JANUS. It’s short, with no information you didn’t already know, but it does include a scientist’s name and office number in the signature.

A few minutes of searching later, you’re in the scientist’s room, tearing apart their files, until you finally find a file folder labeled TOP SECRET. You flip open to the first page, heart pounding.

The top of the page reads, “Project JANUS”. It’s a diagram of a human brain, with specific sections highlighted, though you don’t know enough about the human brain to figure out their relevance. What really draws your eye, however, is what is written below the diagram.

Subject Name: Thomas Sanders.

The name rings like a bell in your head, something deep inside saying, me. Thomas Sanders. Your name is Thomas Sanders.

Your name is Thomas Sanders, and Janus was created from you.

Hastily, you flip through the next few pages of data charts and diagrams, until you come to the next blueprint, then the next, then the next, growing in speed and excitement as you go.

Project PATHOS, Subject Name: Thomas Sanders. Project LOGOS, Subject Name: Thomas Sanders. Project REMUS, Project ROMULUS, Project VIRGILIUS. Subject Name Thomas Sanders, Thomas Sanders, Thomas Sanders.

You sit down heavily in the office chair, putting your hands to your face. They’re you. All of them. God, you should have known. You think part of you did know, all along.

Part of you. That’s what they really are, isn’t it? Not you, not exactly, but parts of you. Created from different segments of your brain, different aspects of your personality.

The concept bounces around in your brain, the idea of something meaningful, some other revelation, hovering at the edge of your mind, just out of reach. Something about being parts, aspects of a person’s personality.

Aspects of a person, but not the whole. Self-preservation without the understanding that sometimes other people matter, too. Morality without the practicality to back it up. Creativity without the necessary restraints.

Oh god, you’ve been going about this all wrong. No wonder your plans didn’t work, the very premise was flawed. And wow, that was such a Logan thought, how did you not realize the connection sooner?

You need to get back to the others, right now.

After gathering the file and safely securing it in the folds of your jumpsuit, you take a quick trip back to Cave Johnson’s office with one intention in mind: his PA system. You don’t know if the announcement systems from down here will reach to where the others are, but you have to try. You press the button, ignoring the anxiety churning in your stomach, and speak.

“Hey, everyone. It’s Thomas. I know that some of you are confused and don’t know who you should be siding with right now. I know that for some of you, I have a lot to apologize for. All I ask, is if you ever trusted me at all, to come meet me at the place you introduced me to Remus. Because I have a lot I need to say to you guys, and because I’ve figured it out.”

You take a deep breath, and focus on projecting as much certainty with your voice as you can.

“I know how we can fix this. For good.”

#aperture sides facility #my writing #ts storytime

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