#I didn’t go with ‘bad’ movie per se but like…..if you’ve seen it you know

[hatterstan-shameblog]

For the headcanon thing

I think Hatter likes to watch bad movies. Like the really bad ones. The ones that make you roll your eyes/laugh/cry at every single thing about it, doesn't matter if it's plot or acting. But you know what he loves more than watching those awful movies alone?

Watching them with someone else.

"hey, Mori, wanna watch a movie?"

"...no."

"c'mon, you'll like this one."

"no, I won't."

"...no, you won't. But I will enjoy your presence. C'mon bro, do it for the sake of bonding time."

"*sigh* fine..."

(inspired by real life events)

💕 Sleepover 💕

Rating: PG13 for language and alcohol consumption

Relationship: Takeru (Hatter)/Aguni

Tags: banter, friendly insults, Just Guys Being Dudes, drinking, swearing, love confessions (sort of), They Talk A Big Game But The Love Is There

Bangbangbangbangbang!

“Mori!”

Bangbangbangbangbang!

“Moooooori, let me iiiiiiiiiin!”

Clunk!

Click!

Creeeeeeaaaaaak!

Aguni opens his apartment door, wincing at the slap of summer heat that greets him as he does.

“C’mon man,” an overheated and impatient Takeru implores, “it’s miserable out here!”

“You bring me samosas,” Aguni asks, crossing his arms across his chest, “Because I’m not letting you in without my samosas.”

Takeru’s face twists into a look of shocked indignation.

“Would you really leave me—your best friend on this beautiful green Earth—to swelter and die on your doorstep in this blazing summer heat…all because I forgot the samosas?”

Aguni considers.

“No. I’d ask you to swelter and die in the parking lot. Neighbors’ll kick up a fuss if you block the stairwell.”

“Well it’s a good thing I got two orders this time,” Takeru shakes the bag enticingly, “so we don’t even have to share.”

“Someone’s splashing out,” Aguni murmurs, taking the bag from Takeru’s outstretched hand and standing aside so the man can enter his home, “Don’t suppose there’s a reason for all this…”

“Maybe I just wanted to be nice,” Takeru says flippantly, toeing off his shoes, “a little ‘thank you’ for welcoming me into your home.”

Aguni carries the bag of food over to his coffee table and sets it down, being careful not to disturb the place settings he had so thoughtfully arranged. Two plates, two spoons, two glasses of water—all neatly placed in the center of his new, sage-green placemats.

Hopefully nobody spills curry on them.

“You brought one of your weird movies again, didn’t you?”

Takeru rolls his eyes. Shoving his arm into his messenger bag, he rummages around its contents for a moment before yanking a dark, thin rectangle and holding it up for Aguni to examine.

“The 1977 horror classic, House,” he explains with an edge of exasperation, “is a critically-acclaimed work of art that has been inspiring both film fanatics and the average man for nearly half a century.”

“Straight from the back of the box,” Aguni mumbles, opening the stapled-shut paper bag and peeking at the containers inside, “Anyways, I thought you didn’t like scary movies.”

Takeru scoffs.

“Not sure what gave you that idea,” Takeru says, shoving his feet into his slippers—yes, his slippers, black velvet with red-and-gold dragons embroidered on the front because ‘I’m here enough to warrant my own damn slippers’ and ‘these are fucking awesome,’ “We saw Hereditary in the theater!”

“And you were scared the whole time,” Aguni points out, gingerly lifting their food out of the bag and arranging the containers on their respective plates, “You had to sleep with the lights on for a week. Screwed up your cat’s sleep schedule and everything.”

Takeru swans his way over to Aguni’s refrigerator and opens it, more or less sticking his whole head inside to examine its (admittedly meager) offerings.

“It’s not my fault that Ziggy is such a smart, beautiful boy who knows what ‘lights out’ means. And besides,” Takeru says while examining the bottle of white wine Aguni had put in to chill, “I’ll be staying here tonight, so it won’t be an issue.”

“So the cat gets to sleep, but I don’t?”

“You, my dear, get a evening of my company, complete with scintillating conversation, cultural enrichment, and—as we have already established—your very own order of samosas,” Takeru calls out from the kitchen, rummaging for a suitable pair of wine glasses, “And besides, I plan on sleeping deeply and comfortably knowing that any and all monsters would no doubt eat you first, giving me ample opportunity to flee the scene…”

Aguni lifts the lid off his curry, admiring the rich yellow hue and inhaling its bold spices. There are even a few extra chilis lying on top, which is a lovely surprise.

Takeru arrives at the table, glasses in one hand and wine in the other. He gives the spread a discerning once-over and then a nod of apparent approval.

“Anyways,” Takeru says, twisting off the top of the wine bottle (not without giving Aguni a look of distaste as he does it), “I’m a bit disappointed in you, Mori-chan. I thought you’d fight me more on this one…”

“It’s a losing battle,” Aguni concedes, sitting himself down in his usual spot and turning on the television, “I have too many brain cells and not enough patience to go through the usual theatrics.”

Takeru hands him a generously-full wine glass—not as full as his own, of course, but still more than what the average person might pour.

“This’ll help the brain cell problem,” he says with an over-enthusiastic smile, “probably the patience, too. Wine makes you sentimental.”

“Hmph.”

“See? It’s already working.”

“Yeah, well,” Aguni grumbles, taking a small sip of his beverage, “better get the movie started before I change my mind.”

Takeru begins his usual indignant grumbling as he fumbles with the DVD player. Aguni could help him, but, frankly, it’s entertaining to watch his friend struggle with the simple electronic setup.

When Takeru manages to get the tray open, he gives a small cheer of victory. Aguni stifles a smirk.

Hopefully the movie is this much fun.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

“Mori. Hey, Mori-chan.”

Aguni rolls his eyes, and then himself onto his side to face Takeru.

“What,” he grumbles, squinting in the dark as he tries to make out the other mans’ shape, “piano thing still got you upset?”

“It ate her fingers, Mori,” Takeru whisper-shouts, “and then it got the rest of her too! That’s enough to upset anyone!”

“It wasn’t even that scary,” Aguni mentions, shimmying his shoulders in order to find a more comfortable spot on his futon, “besides, you don’t even play piano, so you don’t have to worry.”

Takeru is silent for a moment—a blessed, beautiful moment.

“I guess you’re right,” he says after his brief contemplation, “but that’s not the only thing on my mind.”

“I’m guessing ‘sleep’ isn’t one of ‘em?”

Takeru scoffs. There’s a shuffling and fluttering sound from his neighboring futon as he turns to face his disgruntled companion.

“In due time,” Takeru says, “what plagues me now is more of a philosophical question.”

Aguni sighs.

“Remember the part where that guy got turned into a pile of bananas?”

“Yeah,” Aguni responds, “that was weird.”

“What if that happened to me,” Takeru asks, sounding genuinely concerned, “would I turn into a pile of bananas, or would I be a different kind of fruit?”

Oh, you’re different alright, Aguni thinks to himself, but he knows better than to say that out loud. Takeru’s using his ‘this is going to keep me up all night unless you give me a good answer’ voice, so Aguni starts thinking about how best to answer.

“I think you’d be melons,” Takeru concludes, “yeah…definitely melons.”

“Because of my round head and lack of hair?”

“No,” Takeru snaps, “well, that wasn’t my original thinking.”

Aguni subtly checks his phone—half-past one o’clock in the morning, too late to send Takeru home on a train to ask his cat these burning questions instead of him.

“Why,” Aguni asks, “do you think I’d be melons?”

“Well, like you, melons are strong and tough on the outside. Make a nice thud sound when you smack ‘em.”

“So do I,” Aguni mentions, “if you get the right spot. But I also hit back, so that’s not very melon-y, is it?”

“Hm. I suppose not. But,” Takeru says, “where you really start to resemble the melon is on the inside.”

“Inside, huh?”

“Yeah,” Takeru considers for a moment, “underneath all that tough rind, melons are soft. Sweet, too. Nothing fancy, they’re not trying to prove anything, they’re just…good. Like you.”

Aguni hadn’t been expecting something so…sentimental. It’s a touching departure from their usual quips and playful jabs, and it makes something warm and kind of familiar bubble up in Aguni’s heart.

“And also,” Takeru tacks on, “they’re green. And green is your favorite color! So it’s perfect.”

“I think you’d be a strawberry,” Aguni says after a beat.

“A strawberry? You mean only one?”

“Only one,” Aguni confirms, “but one of those fancy designer ones, the kind they grow in those hydroponic farms and sell in department stores for thousands of yen.”

“I heard about a guy who got murdered at one of those places,” Takeru says, “some yakuza guy who was selling weed on the side, someone put a hit out on him and used the body for fertilizer.”

“That’s…disturbing,” Aguni replies, “but that’s beside the point. Don’t you want to know why I think you’d be a single strawberry?”

“Is it because they’re red?”

“Sort of,” Aguni says, “Got a lot of seeds, too. Get stuck in your teeth pretty easily, if you’re not careful.���

“I am rather tenacious.”

“You are.”

Aguni considers his next words carefully. His relationship with Takeru is…complicated, and uncertain, and if anyone ever asked him what they ‘are’ he wouldn’t know how to answer.

“Strawberries are sweet. They’re sour, too. You’d know the flavor anywhere. And you…”

He pauses. Takeru, for once, doesn’t try to fill the silence with his own voice.

“…Well, those designer strawberries are all one-of-a-kind, just like you. So that’s why there’s one one,” he says slowly, “and I like strawberries. Might even, uh…love ‘em.”

“Oh, Mori…”

Something flops onto Aguni’s blanket—once, twice, and ah, it’s Takeru’s hand, and he’s looking for something. Aguni slips his arm from under the covers and covers Takeru’s hand with his own. This is apparently what Takeru had been searching for, because he pulls Aguni’s hand closer to himself.

“You know,” Takeru says, “now that you mention it, I think I might love melon, too.”

Aguni feels lips against the back of his hand—a soft kiss, gentle, a reassurance as much as an act of affection—and he’s glad for the dark of night that hides the blush of his cheeks.

“I feel better now,” Takeru announces, giving Aguni’s hand a light squeeze, “In fact, I think I’m falling asleep as we speak…”

“Hmm,” Aguni hums in agreement.

He’s still holding Takeru’s hand, and Takeru, his—neither seem too keen on letting go, at least, not for now.

[messers-moony]

Sugar | F.H

Paring: Five Hargreeves X Fem!Reader

Summary: Five meets his polar opposite in a library that he now spends most of his time in.

Sugary sweet.

Two words, and four syllables, the exact words Five Hargreeves would use to describe his loving girlfriend. She worked at a library in her free time. She was replacing and organizing books. She was so quiet he almost didn’t even realize she was there.

It was like she wanted to be invisible. Five wasn’t the best at talking with other people. He knew that much. But the way her earrings sparkled like the constellations on them and the way she moved gracefully was enough for him to try.

Upon getting closer, he noticed her earrings were the constellation of Aries. They were silver and fit beautifully with her face. He was nervous. He had never really thought a girl was pretty per se. Nevertheless, talk to one.

Five didn't have time for love. Noe that the apocalypse and doomsday were over, he did. Allison kept pestering him to leave the house and maybe meet a girl. Perhaps that was her way of pretending he was Claire since she still hadn’t received custody. It didn’t matter.

“ Hello. “ Five spoke hesitantly, and she looked up from the bookshelf, “ Hi, may I help you? “

God, her voice was like a Sirens melody. He almost believed she was charmspeaking him. Who was he kidding? Demigods didn’t exist. But if they did, she would be a straight descendent from Aphrodite.

Five shuffled, “ Um, no. I’m not really looking for anything in particular. I just- um, wanted to talk to you. “

“ Oh, okay. “ She replied, “ My names Y/n. “

“ Beautiful, unique. “ He complimented, “ My names Five. “

She smiled and put out her hand, “ Unique as well. “ Five took her hand and shook it gently.

“ So, Five. What brought you into the library today? “ Y/n questioned as she began restocking books again, “ Well, my sister kept bugging me to leave the house. “ Five chuckled as he began to hand her books.

“ Gotta love siblings. They’re always a pain. “ Y/n smiled, “ Yeah, they’re a pain, but I love them. “ He answered honestly.

“ How many siblings do you have? “ She asked, taking a book from his hand and placing it high on the shelf, “ Six adopted siblings. “

“ Wow, that’s a lot. “ Y/n commented, “ Indeed. “ Five replied.

That’s how it started. A couple of days a week, more like daily, Five would enter the library and help her stock the shelves. Sometimes he’d even help her take inventory. He learned that the library was her mother's and how her mother was rarely there, so she took over.

It amazed him. She was only sixteen and took over the responsibility of a library. He learned that she had no siblings and just lived with her mother. Life was simple with her. In the morning's, Five would bring coffee to her. In the afternoons, he’d bring lunch for her, and in the evenings, he’d get some form of sweet.

The sweets couldn’t compare to how sugary she was. Y/n was undeniably caring and always listened to Five’s worthless rants about everything. It seemed as if Allison’s plan worked too well because now Five was rarely home. He stayed at the library almost all day and only went home to sleep.

Granted, it was remarkable that Five left the house after being stuck there for years, but the siblings did miss their sarcastic and ill-tempered brother. Now Five didn’t accompany his siblings. He attended his friend.

Over the course of the next few months, Y/n would be lying if she wasn’t falling for her polar opposite. Based on all their conversations Five was the contrary of her. Not that it was a bad thing, but she was just shy. People would come in the library, and she would serve them, but she never talked much.

Since she had met Five, he started to take over that job. He began checking books in and out for people at the desk while Y/n stocked the shelves. Sometimes older adults would see Y/n on the ladder and Five handing her books to replace the frames, cooing at them.

Saying something along the lines of, “ To be young and in love. “

She shuddered at the thought of attention. Y/n hated eyes on her, and it made her uncomfortable. When those things occurred, Five would take her hand into his and squeeze it lightly. A comforting gesture to distract her from the apparent cooing adults that couldn’t seem to mind their own business.

Appreciative– she was for Five. He helped her through everything. She did the same for him. She was his escape from the horrid mansion that he seemed to dislike now strongly. It seemed strange but in the back of the library is where Y/n lived. She did have a space at her mother's house, but she preferred the library.

While she finished stocking books, knelt on the carpet to reach the lower shelves, Five flipped the open sign to closed. He turned off the computers, and by that time, she was sat on the main counter.

“ Hey, Five? “ Y/n called before he could walk out the door so she could lock up, “ Hmm? “

She jumped off the counter, “ Would you like to stay? “

“ I’d like nothing better. “ He smiled.

Y/n showed him to the back area of the library. A place he’d never even noticed before, and he had been in this bookstore for months now. In the back was a tiny little apartment. Kitchen, living space, a bedroom, and a bathroom. It was quaint, but it was comfortable.

“ It’s not much. We can always hang out near the main space in the library. “ Y/n’s voice was quiet as she turned the lights on, “ I think I have something in mind. “ Five replied.

“ Get some blankets, and I wanna show you something. Meet me near the couches in the central area. “ He announced as he walked away, “ Okay? “ Y/n responded questioningly.

Nevertheless, she did as she was told. She grabbed her softest blankets and made her way to the main area. Five was sat on one of the couches, and she dropped all the blankets beside him.

“ Okay. So I don’t know if you’ve seen this before, but I noticed it a month ago. I wanted to make it a surprise. “ Five informed as he walked towards the wall.

His hand reached up and pulled something down. It was a projector screen. She hadn’t noticed it. She didn’t even know that one was there. Five must’ve been wandering around or saw it while helping a customer. Walking a few feet away, he turned on the projector. Placing a movie in the computer, and it appeared on the screen.

Y/n was shocked, “ I’ve never seen this before. “

“ I didn’t think you had. Otherwise, we would’ve done this sooner. “ Five chuckled, “ Yeah. Come on! Let’s watch. “ She said smiling and motioned for him to sit beside her.

That was their first date. Five couldn’t remember exactly how it happened, but the next thing he knew was that she was his girlfriend. It was almost like a drunken memory. Except he wasn’t drunk. He was nervous, and that seemed to blear the memory a tad.

His girlfriend remembered it like it was yesterday. She could remember the pounding in her chest as she and Five looked out of a window at the stars. Y/n remembered him taking ahold of her hand to show her the Aries constellation just like her earrings.

The brunets left arm was around her waist, and his left held her hand, showing her where the constellation was in the sky. He gently kissed her cheek as he put her hand back down. But instead of letting go of it, he intertwined his hand with hers. Then he asked the question, to which she responded with a gentle yes.

[fatiguing-thoughts]

“Fighting and Making Up” -The Pack Preference

Request:  For preferences you could do a two part of what y’all get into fights about and then make up.

        I wasn’t sure how to do this exactly, but I wanted to keep it lighthearted! I hope you enjoy :) 

Jacob: 

It isn’t something that happens often, but when it does Jake has no issue telling you that you done messed up. 

“Why didn’t you tell me there was a problem with your car?” 

“Because you’re so busy, I know you’re tired from patrol and hanging out with me. I didn’t want to bother you.” I say looking down at my feet. 

“Well, now it’s worse and needs more work. Don’t wait to tell me when something is wrong.” He shakes his head in disappointment. 

It doesn’t get very intense, he just usually gives a mini lecture about how damaging it is to my car. Not yelling, but the disappointed, annoyed tone someone gives when they don’t wanna yell. 

It’s usually making up by sitting in the garage, bonding over fixing whatever is wrong with the car. Keeping each other company, talking, and eating snacks. 

Seth: 

Seth is a loving boyfriend, caring way more than you thought was possible. He gets upset with you when you get sick but push it off. It causes some tension and frustration because he doesn’t like seeing you like that. 

“Please, my mom is a nurse. Let her look at you.” He pleads.

“Seth, it’s just a cold! I’ll be okay.” I reason.

“You don’t know that, it could be anything.” He pouts. 

Eventually, a few days pass and you end up being worse instead of better.

“Maybe if you had listened to me the other day you wouldn’t be this sick.” He says, making you your favorite soup. 

A lot of times he’s just more upset that you won’t make it easier on yourself. It usually starts out with an argument like one above, but you guys make up as he takes care of you, refusing to leave your side. He makes sure you take your medicine, makes sure you get rest, and is always ready to bring you food and water. Oh, and a lot of cuddles, can’t forget the cuddles. 

Leah:

Leah and you don’t fight often, but it’s often when you overwork yourself or spread yourself too thin. 

“(Y/N), why did you say you can cover their shift? You’re already working a shift that day, call them back and tell them you can’t. Plus you agreed to help Seth with his math homework tomorrow morning. And you agreed to volunteer at the shelter. Plus you need to do your paper and study for your final, it’s your senior year of college.” She says, frustrated. 

“Leah, you know I can’t say no. They need my help!” I defend. 

“I know, but you can’t do it all! You need to take care of yourself, make sure that you’re helping yourself. You’re making yourself sick with how much you’re doing…” She grabs for my hand. 

“I know, I know. I can’t help it, I hate saying no.” Tears brimming my eyes. 

“I’m not trying to make you sad, you’re just spreading yourself too thin. I hate seeing you like this, you’re ready to explode at the drop of a hat.” She pulls me into a hug. 

“I know, I don’t know how to fix it.” I let the tears fall. 

“I’ll help you. We’ll get you through this, but next time-- don’t do this to yourself.” She smiles, kissing me on the forehead. 

Afterwards she helps you get your stuff done, helping take the stress off your shoulders. Though, she reminds you constantly to stop taking so many things on at once. The night is usually filled with hot chocolate and cuddling by the fire, including long and loving kisses. 

Paul:

It was no secret that Paul always had the hardest time out of everyone in controlling his temper. Though, after he imprinted on you it did improve vastly. The only issue with this is that now he was a ticking time bomb when it came to the subject of you. He was one of the most emotional and caring people you’ve ever met-- which is why he had such a hard time controlling his temper at times. It happens every once in a while where he gets too jealous/protective over you and goes off the deep end, just a bit. It usually goes something like this:

“Paul, stop being pissed off.” I sigh, walking in our front door from the party we just had to leave. 

“No, did you see the way he looked at you? He hugged you for way too long. You don’t get the way he looked at you. If I wasn’t right there he would’ve absolutely tried something.” He huffs.

“Paul, he was my chemistry partner from a class three years ago. He was just saying hello. That’s the first and only time I’ve seen him since high school. He just hugged me hello, albeit very long but… you’re the only one I see.” I look deep into his eyes. 

“You didn’t hear what he said before he came up to you! He told his friend that he used to wanna get you in bed, and then said he still would. I just hate seeing other people look at you like you’re an object.” He walks over, hugging me. 

“Well, Paul you can’t fight everyone who checks me out or says something in poor taste.” 

“I know, I’m sorry. I just lose it sometimes when it comes to you.” He sighs, closing his eyes. 

“I know, I know it’s because you care. I love you, Paul.” 

“I love you, too.” He kisses my forehead, pulling me into a tighter hug. 

Lots of cuddling and snacks ensue, by the end of the night you guys always make up. 

Embry: 

Embry and you have been inseparable since you were kids. You guys dated before his phasing, and thankfully he imprinted on you. He was always overprotective, worried about everything you did from day one, and now that he’s phased and imprinted, he knows the real dangers out there and his feelings have only gotten more intense. It’s not always an argument per se, but it usually ends with him worried when you go out into the woods alone or just with one of your friends. 

“Embry, she just wanted to go on a small hike. It wasn’t even at night.” 

“(Y/N), it doesn’t matter if it’s day or night. You should’ve told me so I knew to make sure nothing happened to you, I can’t fathom what I would do if something happened to you.” He trails off. 

“I understand, but I didn’t know we were going into the woods. She just asked me to go while we were at her house, it was just the woods behind her house. I didn’t know I was going to or I would’ve mentioned it.” 

“Well, you went pretty deep for Quil to find you on patrol. I just need to make sure you’re safe, I can’t let anything happen to you.” His voice trails off. 

“I didn’t realize how far we went until after. I’m sorry, Em. I can’t exactly say anything about vampires or the pack to her. I didn’t mean to upset you, it was just a nice day to take some pictures.” I look down at my feet. 

“I understand, I’m sorry for getting so upset with you. Just try to send me, or all of us, a text. Just in case. I need to make sure you’re safe, always. I love you.” He kisses my forehead. 

“I will, I’m sorry again. I love you, too.” I push myself further into his chest. 

It doesn’t happen often, but if it does you guys make up and often lay in bed listening to your favorite music. A lot of cuddling, talking about how much you mean to each other, and back scratches. 

  Jared: 

Jared doesn’t really argue, he’s a snarky guy but overall one of the sweetest people ever. The one thing that always gets under your skin though is whenever you guys have somewhere to be or something to do, he always needs “five more minutes” to wake up. This wouldn’t always be such a huge deal if it was actually five more minutes, but after ten of those you’re set back almost an hour. 

“Jared. Get up, for real.” You throw a pillow at his sleeping body.

“Five more minutes.” He grumbles, clutching the pillow close to his body.

“You said that an hour ago! We’re going to be late.” You huff, getting onto the bed. 

“Don’t do it.” He pleads.

“Too bad.” You say, jumping on the bed.

You then have to deal with grumpy Jared for the duration of him waking up and getting ready to go, but he makes up for it by apologizing and leaving kisses all over your face before you leave, only making you later. He gets you your favorite snacks on the way home.  

“I won’t do it next time, babe.” He says as we walk out to the car to leave.

“Mhm, okay. You say that every time.” You laugh.

You buy him an alarm clock for Christmas. You buy another for his birthday. He keeps throwing them out.

Quil: 

While with the pack you were always witty due to your comfort levels, you didn’t always behave that way. You were always meek and nervous with confrontation with others. It all started in high school where Quil would get upset that you would let people talk to or treat you a certain way, earning no backlash from yourself. Quil began to stick up for you, smart mouth and all. It has lasted all through the years, even when someone was rude at the grocery store. 

“Quil, you don’t have to do that.” 

“Yes I do. You don’t stick up for yourself, it’s horrible. You need to stop letting people talk to you like that. I can’t sit there and let you take it.” He argues.

“Okay, but did you have to tell him that he looks like his mom huffed gasoline when she was pregnant? What does that even mean? What if she did?” I ask, astonished after the incident. 

“I did, I told him the truth. A lot of nerve for him to think he can say anything about you.” He scoffs. 

“Quil… I just ignore them because it’s easier, it’s so much easier than to get so angry.” 

“I get angry for you, it works. I love you, I can’t sit and let someone disrespect you.”

“I love you, too. Just chill out sometimes, okay?”

“We can agree to disagree, I can’t let someone disrespect my girlfriend. I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable.” He kisses my cheek before pulling me over to our bed. 

After these kinds of situations, it usually ends with a lot of cuddling and watching funny movies to make us feel a little better. 

Sam: 

When you take too long to get ready and make a mess in the bathroom with all of your cosmetics he tends to get upset, especially when he has to get in there to get ready, too. 

“Please at least let me pee, you’ve been getting ready for an hour.” “I’ll be out in a minute!” I yell back through the door. 

“You said that ten minutes ago! What else could you possibly be doing?” He knocks again. 

“You can’t rush beauty, Sam.” I open the door. 

“You don’t need to spend an hour of your time to look beautiful, you look amazing when you wake up. But let me pee, now.” He runs into the bathroom, frustrated with how long he’s had to wait. 

“Thank you, Sam.” I blush from outside the bathroom door. 

Sam always respects the fact that you like to get dolled up sometimes before certain events, but cannot help but be frustrated at how long it takes you. It’s always a “just a minute!” from you, as you hog the bathroom counter. You make it up to him by not only cleaning the bathroom up immediately, but by giving him a sweet kiss. After you guys return, you cuddle and watch movies. You give him back rubs and spoil him with affection, promising to get ready quicker next time. 

__________________________

Word Count: 2028

[mcmoth]

BOIS

The aro c!Tommy propoganda is done.

Here:

Friends can be Home, too

Summary:

Love. The thing that supposedly drove the world, that made everyone happy. He thought he knew love. But maybe… maybe not. Maybe there has been something deeply, intangibly wrong about him this whole time, and he hadn't even known. Not to this extent.

'Cause he knew before. Knew it in the unease in his bones, and the panic in his brain, and the annoyed buzz in his chest. But… but he had doubted.

 He couldn't doubt anymore.

A journey of introspection, self doubt, and realizing you're not alone.

Or read on ao3!

Warnings: swearing, internalized arophobia, which includes self doubt, a bit of self hate, that sort of stuff. Also, this will have like, mentions of attraction and all that stuff, and Tommy gets pretty confused, so if you'd like to avoid that? This isn't the fic for you, ig. Btw, as a reminder, this is all set in the dsmp universe and is not about the irl people in any way.

Now onto the fic!

Welp.

Tommy sure is ready to stab someone right now.

Well, not really. More accurately he wanted to run, or shrivel up into a fucked up raisin, or snap, or just exist in darkness right now. Because there were his two best friends, cuddling on the couch. And he was sat there, next to them, supposed to be enjoying movie night.

It's not like he wasn't happy for them. They can do what they want, he reminded himself, again and again. They're just expressing their love, they're just close, and Tommy has to stop being such a fucking oddball about it. This wasn't weird. It wasn't weird.

And he could even see Ranboo giving him looks, probably about to ask something stupid. But if he made any comment, expressed discomfort, that would just be him being a dick and a weirdo. He's not going to ruin this for them. He just has to… to ignore it. To ignore it. He can do that. Yes.

“You alright, Tommy?”

Tommy's jaw snapped, he could feel his teeth grinding, and the couch was feeling all too small. So with a fast raise to his feet, he stumbled away, throwing a brash “fine" Ranboo's way, something burning deep in the pit that was his chest.

It was fine. It was fine. Why wasn't it fine? What the fuck was wrong with him??

Maybe he was just…

Jealous.

 

***

 

“I think I have a crush on Hannah.”

Tubbo and Ranboo stilled. The silence was… bad.

“oh?”

Tommy gulped, anxiously crinkling the chip bag he got from targay. “Y-yeah.”

Tubbo hummed. “I've never seen you interact with her much. When… did that start?”

Tommy's mind buzzed, and he resisted crushing the food in his hands, reclining heavily against the backrest of the bench. “I-I don't know, uh, recently? I guess? She's just… nice. She uh…. Has pretty hair? And she gave me a flower once! That was just, swe- uh, poggers of her, so. Yeah. I just think… yeah.”

Tubbo nodded, head tilting. “Do you think she likes you back?”

Tommy's eyes widened, and he didn't know why he laughed, but he did, and when he responded, he himself was taken aback by the hiss accompanying the words. “No!! She- why would- no- no, I mean… m-ma- I don't know??”

Ranboo swung his tail. “She better not. I mean, how old is she?”

“What does that matter?”

Ranboo stared. “You’re a child. Technically.”

Tommy bristled. “Fuck you, I am a big man! I'll kill you!”

The conversation moved on after that, and Tommy, somewhere along the way, quickly got lost. Head filled with cotton, electricity running through his veins, feeling horribly, oddly, humiliated and strangely… dissatisfied.

They didn't care. And he just felt more confused than ever.

…Why did he even do that?

 

***

 

Tommy was walking, grass up to his knees, a lead in hand. When he reached the village, he tied it to a fence, patting his borrowed horse before placing feet on the path, comforted by the gravel crunching beneath his feet, the feel of the sun on his neck. He looked around, at the wooden houses and half stacked stalls and idle chatter. He looked around and he thought.

He thought back to older days. This was… strangely nostalgic. Walking alone, in an unfamiliar town, the vastness of the world enveloping him in it's many potentials. He still wasn't sure when he felt better. Running around on the streets, just trying to survive, noone by his side, weak but naïve, hopeful. Or now, with some people to care for and trust, a place to return to, enough food in his pack, but shouldered with the weight of a dozen betrayals, life slipping past him three times too many. In a sense, he was still just trying to survive. Everything was so different now, yet the same.

He supposes, one thing that remained, was the sense of loneliness.

He grasped the front of his shirt, taking in the beating of his heart, looking at the strangers mingling amongst themselves. At the pairs, at the couples, at the families, sharing laughs and smiles, a contrast to the furrowed brows or tired amusement of shopkeepers and the idle folk visiting them.

He had always wanted a family.

…there was one way to get a family.

Someone to share laughs with. Someone who would comfort you. Someone who would take your hand, or hold you through the night, and never even leave. Someone who promises to stay.

It was a nice thought.

So why was it so hard to conceptualize? To imagine, to picture someone actually coherent, to look at a person and go – yes. I want to be your partner.

...eugh. just that sentence made his whole nervous system do a double take.

But why? Why? Was it the betrayals? Was it some fucked up self conscious mind shit? Was that it? Was he just fucked up in the head? Maybe.

Maybe.

But as it is, he knew he liked girls. He did. He liked them. They were… they were nice. Like Niki, who smelled of baked goods, and had a soft smile, and who had once given him a hug when she found him crying during the revolution, and who looked very nice in dresses. Or Puffy, who had made him a pickaxe when he asked for one, and who opposed Jack in stealing his hotel, and who offered him therapy, and she had really cool horn rings. Or Hannah, with her red flowers, and pretty builds, and the way the nature seemed just a bit more lively with her around, and her laugh was bright with mischievous intent that he could empathize with. They… they were nice. Yeah. Most girls were so nice.

So why… why hadn't he found one that he could. Actually picture doing… anything. In his head. No kissing, no dates, none of that… shmuck. It was just… he could see many girls his age running around, just now, in front of his eyes, many running through his mind as he searched his memories. None of them… no. And he tried thinking of boys, but that didn't… no. Not that either. …Enbies?

No… no, nothing… nothing felt. Good. None of it felt good, he just felt sick, he just felt weird, he didn't even feel dirty per se, but more like he was charting into foreign grounds, into something alien, and none of the thoughts he forced to visualize behind his eyelids, fleeting from how quickly he shut them out, felt like him. It didn't feel like him.

His fingers trembled, his chest felt tight, throat choked, and his head, on his shoulders, heavy and woozy and oh so muddled. He felt his heart race. Was… was that it? Maybe that was a sign. People said heart racing was a sign of attraction. Was there anyone in particular who did that? Maybe he was wrong – he was not lacking or messed up or broken, he just had buried the feelings so deep below his ribs, underneath fabricated doubts and trauma and the disconnect he had with reality and relationships in general, and once he got over those barriers, and just found someone, he would experience that joy that everyone spoke about. That closeness. He just had to… allow himself to get closer. To know more people, know them better.

That was… that was probably it.

But no matter. He raised his eyes, his senses coming back to him like the wind blowing his hair out of his eyes, blinking at the noise around him.

After all, he still came here for a reason.

 

***

 

“Yeah, I like these ones the best,” Tubbo said as he handed Tommy the various colored discs. Tommy nodded, smiling as he sorted through them, writing down the names in his notepad, feeling little stones dig into his elbows. Tubbo joined him fully on the ground, laying down next to him. “What do you need these for, anyways?” he blinked, and there was a smirk growing on his face. “Are they for… someone?”

Tommy furrowed his brows, staring at the other. “What?”

Tubbo chuckled nervously, waving his hand around as he stumbled over his words. “You- you know. Like a gift? Are you going to… to try to, get someone?”

Tommy’s stare just became sharper, becoming even more confused. “What??” What the fuck was he talking about?

“You know, like a- a date?” Tommy blanked. “Cause- you know, you've been talking about girls a lot lately, and I just thought-"

“No.” Tommy interrupted, feeling numb. “No, it's not for a fucking girl.”

“Oh.” Tubbo laid on the grass, clearly uncomfortable. He began to tear up the leaf he had picked up. “Sorry, I just thought- I'm not really good at this whole thing… sorry for assuming. W- …what is the reason, then?”

Tommy sighed, thankful for the topic change. “It's for… you know how I’m going to therapy?”

Tubbo hummed in affirmation.

“Puffy suggested that, since I like music, I should like, indulge in that, use it to calm myself or give myself something to do, that junk. So I’ve just been. Collecting, I guess.” He looked over the list again, then closed the notepad and sat up, discs in hand. “I wanna build a place where I just keep all the records, maybe I’ll even sell the ones I don't like. Good business practice, you know?”

Tubbo brightened. “Oh! That sounds really cool! If you need help with the building part, I can help you, by the way!”

Tommy looked at Tubbo's grin, so sweet and infectious, and his heart thawed, thinking of working with Tubbo again, building towards something together. It was a nice thought. “Alright.”

It would be nice to be with Tubbo again.

 

***

 

Tommy felt miserable.

This… this was miserable. He didn't know why. It really shouldn't be – it was just music. He was just sorting through all of his music, picking ones he liked, picking ones to comfort him, he loved music, it was fine, it just…

Why did so many of the songs have to be about love.

It made him feel angry and hurt and alone in a particular way that was so familiar and yet so utterly different. Because when he felt alone before, he fought with himself the same, he sunk into the thoughts of being unlovable or broken or undeserving of company, but at least he could understand it. At least he could look back now and think “Dream was a bitch" and that would be some solace. At least he could have hope that even if he was unlovable, he could still love. Love others. Try to seek others. Even if he never got that back.

But now, hearing all the poetics and sweet confessions that were in such abundance, something that sounded so passionate and revered, so integral, it was like looking into another reality he didn't, couldn't, understand, and suddenly, he felt more alien than ever before.

And most importantly, how fucking stupid that was, that the thing that made him feel that way was love.

Love. The thing that supposedly drove the world, that made everyone happy. He thought he knew love. But maybe… maybe not. Maybe there has been something deeply, intangibly wrong about him this whole time, and he hadn't even known. Not to this extent.

Cause he knew before. Knew it in the unease in his bones, and the panic in his brain, and the annoyed buzz in his chest. But… but he had doubted.

He couldn't doubt anymore.

God….

He laid on the ground, head to the cold floor, the record still spinning. The noise bounced off the dark wooden walls and into his skull, grating and aching. He covered his ears, messed up his hair, breathed in and out. In and out. What was wrong. What was wrong.

The record fell to silence. Then it started back again, as it automatically swapped out. Next.

His fingers felt restless, his whole body did. He tapped his skull, feeling the thumps echo. Breathe in, and breathe out. Breathe-

“-ow will I ever know you enough to love you, if you're hiding who you are?

Don't ask me to explain-"

He startled, his breath catching. This disc was scratchier than the others. It felt different. Something in him drew in the lyrics, head loud. He blinked.

…He's not hiding. Is he? Hiding what? He’s- no. Just- Breathe in-

“-Who are you hiding from, across the table with a penny in each eye?

Don't ask me to explain, don’t ask me to explain-"

His breath escaped, arms trembling as his body froze. He didn't understand. He couldn't explain. He wanted to cry. Something was unravelling.

“I'd like to marry all of my close friends, and live in a big house together by an angry sea,”

He sobbed.

He did, he thought, with surprise, as the tears fell.

“Am I the devil's marbles don't move on without me,

Who will be watching my body when I sleep?

Who will I believe in?”

Something… yeah.

Something happened.

Because suddenly, all that stress, all that confusion, all that loathing, was detangling, and the tears ran deep, ran painful, silent, wheezing screams escaping as the sobs continued. He couldn't breathe. His chest was tight. His head swam, and he felt oh so light headed. Light. He felt light. Happy. He felt alive.

He felt understood.

He- he wanted that! He could- he wanted to live with his friends, with Tubbo with Ranboo. He wanted to stay as friends. He wanted them to protect him, to be able to trust them, to be able to protect them in turn, he wanted to reside with them, he wanted to sleep amongst them, to have them watch over him, safe, he wanted to wake up in the morning and see the sun rise with then, he wanted to have casual dinner with them, he wanted to grow old together with them. As friends. As friends.

Friends.

What a lovely thing…

He could… he could live with his friends…

He could build a family with his friends.

And he didn't even care at that moment that he didn't know how Tubbo and Ranboo would feel about that. He didn't care whether they'd want him at their house, whether they'd want him around at all. He didn't even care, at that moment, if he couldn’t join them.

Because he realized that it was a possibility at all. Just the prospect, just the thought, the realization, that spending your life, being intimate, finding a stable ground, with your friends, not romantic partner, was possible, that it was possible to not be able to feel otherwise, that it was shared by other people, who wrote this song, who sung it, who had thought about it…

It meant he couldn't be that alone after all.

“It's so easy to lie to myself,

And pretend that I could love you, but I can't"

And oh so comforting it was, that he couldn't.

 

***

 

“Ey, Ranboo! Bitchboy!”

Ranboo suppressed a smile, an exasperated sigh hissing through his teeth. Tail swishing, he glanced to the other boy, who was down below, standing in the snow.

“C'mere!! I gotta give you something.” He yelled.

Ranboo raised a brow, but complied, closing the window he had been looking out of. After making a quick detour to check on Michael, he made his way down the stairs and stepped out of the doorway and into the light. Tommy bounded to him, big grin on his face. He seemed jumpier than usual. Ranboo smiled in turn. “what is it?”

Tommy opened his mouth, then closed it, instead going to rummage through his bag. What he took out was a… box? “Here, fuckboy.”

Ranboo winced, taking the container. “Don't call me that.”

“Why, what does it mean?”

Ranboo stared. “Just…. Don't.”

Tommy blinked, laughing nervously. “o-okay.”

Moving on, Ranboo inspected the item in his hands. It was medium sized, and made of simple, but elegant, smooth black wood. On the top, there was a leather sign embedded in it, with the word Beloved stitched into it. His ears flickered. This seemed… awfully nice. “What’s in it?”

Tommy scoffed. “Just open it, you twat.”

Ranboo, with a glance, could see the anxious way Tommy was holding himself, seeming impatient and uncomfortable. So he wasted no more time, and clicked open the surprisingly sturdy iron latch after a moment of struggling, and what awaited him inside was…

“…Discs…?”

Ranboo held his breath, fingers twitching as he held the gift. …was it a gift?

Tommy was staring at the ground. “Yeah. You know, I’ve just been traveling around, collecting, and I wanted to…” He seemed to shake himself lightly, hands wringing. “I wanted to give you some, I guess. That… yeah. These are yours.”

Ranboo was stiff, still perceiving the actual gift in his hands, that looked hand made, that was hand picked, that Tommy had worked to attain, just to give to him. His tail curled, and he carefully, delicately closed it's lid and hugged it close to his chest. “I… Thank you. Thank- O-oh wow…”

Tommy scowled. “You look like a fish. It's not a big deal. Just… take a listen sometime, won't ya?”

“Y-yeah!” Ranboo reverently nodded, cursing the way his eyes felt misty. “Yeah, I’ll… I’ll definitely listen, and cherish it. Thank you, Tommy.”

Tommy curtly nodded. “Alright. Pog.” And then, he was turning around, walking away with a quick “Share it with your family, too, some day. Bye.” Thrown or his shoulder.

And then, he was gone.

 

***

Tubbo heard music down the hall.

Ears tilting towards the pleasant sound, he skipped with bare feet over to the source, evening light casting warm glow through the windows as he went. When he arrived, to what was Michael's bedroom, he found Ranboo on the couch, curled gently over their son, head resting on his little head as he seemed to just… listen, wistful. Michael was listening too, letting out a little yawn as he turned his head to snuggle even deeper into his parent's warm embrace. Tubbo smiled softly at the scene.

Quietly, he patted over to them both, Ranboo eventually noticing him and watching him as he did. Tubbo buried a hand in Ranboo's hair, and the other leaned in. “What are you listening to?”

Ranboo didn't rush to explain, letting the comforting silence fill the space. When he spoke, it reminded Tubbo of soft flower petals and honey. “I didn't know Tommy's music taste was so…”

Tubbo blinked, turning to the disc lazily turning on the jukebox near them.

“-But in the end, I don't really care what you think,

Cause the bottom line is you make me happier than I’ve ever been...”

“wholesome.” He chuckled, fondly.

Tubbo hummed, unsurprised. “Tommy gave you these?”

Ranboo leaned more heavily in the couch. “Yeah. I don't know why, but…”

Tubbo's smile only deepened as he thought. Slowly, he replied, “I think he just wanted to show you he cared.”

Ranboo seemed to lose his breath a little, looking up at the other. “You think so…?”

Tubbo carded his fingers through Ranboo's hair, looking past Ranboo's twitching ears. “Tommy doesn't do things like these without reason. If he gave you something, it’s safe to say you mean a lot to him. He doesn't like to show it, usually, but… that I know.”

Ranboo stared at the turning of the discs, breathing softly. His tail curled around Michael. “Oh.”

Tubbo sat down at his feet and joined in.

Hearts warm, they laid there and listened until the sun had cast it's last rays and the jukebox no longer had a melody to spin.

 

***

 

Tommy sat behind the counter, feet on the counter, just trying to eat his discount chips while some people were being dumb children.

“Stop throwing the fucking food! I'll have to clean this up later!” He whined, to which Tubbo and Ranboo just threw him a glance, Tubbo’s apathetic and Ranboo's at least vaguely guilty, before Tubbo went right back and threw another gummy worm Ranboo's way.

Tommy scowled. “Seriously. At least pick them up and eat them.”

Ranboo made a face of disgust. “I'm not gonna eat candy off the floor, Tommy.”

“Yeah, some of us don't eat mud, Tommy.” Tubbo added.

“There’s no fucking mud here! It's a clean floor! You can totally pick them up and eat them, what the fuck!”

Tubbo raised his brows, staring. “Okay, then go and eat them, trash boy.”

“Okay, that's it.” Tommy raised to his feet, left his chip bag on the table and ran to Tubbo. Tubbo squawked, crawling onto the armchair he was reclining in to curl into a ball around his bag, but Tommy just threw himself onto the armchair with him, trying to reach for the candy. Which, considering the position, it was more like he was half-tickling, half hugging the other more than anything. “Give me that.”

Tubbo just burst out laughing, trying to hide deeper into the couch, attempting to kick the other away. “St-Stoppp!”

“C'mon, you disobeyed my shop's rules, I’m just confiscati-"

Something hit his head. Tommy stilled.

Ranboo peeked from behind his own candy bag, before digging into it again.

Tommy laid off of Tubbo slightly, raising like a puffed up cat. “Ranboo, you fuck!”

Tubbo laughed again, and Tommy was about to go on a murder spree, only for all the commotion to halt when they heard a sudden 4th voice.

Michael.

“Oh shit.”

Ranboo sighed. “He's awake. C'mon.”

Tubbo sighed as well, rolling out of the couch and dragging his feet towards the source of the oinks. “For the record, this is not my fault.”

Both of the other boys gave him the stink eye, but in the name of preserving needed ceasefire they held their tongues.

Michael was sitting up in Tommy's bed that resided in the backrooms, rubbing sleep out of his eyes and hiccuping. Tubbo reached for him, lifting him up. “Aww, did we wake you up? I'm sorry, little bossman.”

Michael clutched Tubbo's shirt, muttering something in piglin.

“He's asking what all that noise was.” Tommy quickly translated, before turning his eyes back to the kid and saying something soft in piglin back. Michael listened, seeming to quiet a little.

Ranboo, gathering that it was an affirmation, smiled and took one of Michael's hooves gently. “Yeah, we were just having fun. Do you want to have fun, too, Michael?”

Michael’s big eyes widened, and he wiggled in Tubbo's grip. “Ye! Ye!”

They chuckled, and Tubbo transferred his hold of Michael to Ranboo, who led the way in making it back to the front of the shop, chatting with his son all the while.

Tommy bumped his shoulder with Tubbo's as they walked, but didn't say anything further. Tubbo bit back a grin.

The next hour was spent feeding Michael and letting him listen to some new discs. Tommy even remembered he had some records that were in piglin, some songs, some stories, and put them on, which seemed to enrapture Michael quite a bit, immersed in the new voices and tales and familiarity. The three boys let him sit in Ranboo's lap and get lost in his own world, residing on a couch together and quietly chatting, around them comfortingly dark walls, bookshelves and the smell of wood and candles.

Eventually, the conversation steered.

“You know, Tommy, why don't you join us?”

…huh?

Tommy blinked, willing his breathing to restart and for the words to come. “W-what?”

Tubbo looked at him with warm eyes and a trepidant smile. “Like, how would you feel about coming to Snowchester? Live with us?”

Ranboo waved his hand. “Of course, you don't have to! But we just thought, you know, if you'd like a bit more, uh, company…”

“We want to be with you, is all.” Tubbo added quietly.

Tommy's heart raced, and he only blinked more, hands clutching the fabric of his pants. “B- be with me… are you…” he gulped down the butterflies clogging down his windpipes, still trying to understand that this is real. “are you sure…?”

Ranboo grinned, patting Michael's head idly. The piglin looked up at them. “Yeah! You're family, Tommy, after all.”

Tubbo tilted his head. As Tommy was still struggling to respond, he assured, “You don't have to if you don't want to, big man. No pressure.”

Tommy laughed, weak and breathless, but bright. “No, I-I’d- I'd really want that, but…” he gestured, trying to put his worries to sudden coherent sentences. “wouldn't that be… awkward? Like… you two, just, l-lovebirds," he chuckled clumsily, “and then there's… me, just, there?”

Tubbo shared a look with Ranboo, then turned back and laughed. “You won't be a third wheel, if that's what you’re asking.”

“Yeah, it's not like we’re really romantic partners, even, it'll be fine.” Ranboo said.

Tommy stilled.

Blinked.

“Uhw- what?”

The other two tensed, Tubbo quickly glancing at his husband before grimacing, thinking deep on how to explain it. “You know, we… we're not really… romantic? We just decided to marry? But we're… not platonic either, it's…”

“I-It's something inbetween. Queerplatonic is the word? I think?”

“It's hard to explain-"

“There's- there's a word for that? And you were- Like. Friends? Living together, this whole time??” Tommy reeled, head in hand.

“Well, not exactly friends, or at least, with how we decide to label our relationship, but… yes?”

“Oh my-" Tommy slumped forwards, now both of his hands holding his head upright, just. Breathing. “Shit. What the fuck. I…” he laughed, wrecked.

Tubbo and Ranboo stared at him, uncomfortable. Tubbo frowned. “Look, if you… if you're gonna say something, I’d rather-"

“No- nono, it's…” he raised his eyes, slowly, like coming out of a cave and into the light. His words tripped upon his tongue, but he was so eager to know. “So you two don't want… romantic partners?”

They blinked. “Not… particularly, no.” Ranboo replied. “…are you okay?”

Tommy laughed. It sounded stilted even to his ears, senses muddled as he was wrapped up in his own head, his own elated feelings, his heart nearly bursting at the seams. “I-I’m not alone.”

Tubbo stared, but then his eyes softened. He sighed, and his smile was immensely gentle, while looking at his friend. “Oh, Tommy…” Ranboo, beside him, wilted the same.

Michael, inbetween them, looked at all three of them silently.

“…Do you want a hug?” Tubbo quietly offered.

Tommy quickly nodded, slumping into Tubbo's side and burying his face in Tubbo's soft hair, not even caring for the way one of his horns poked into his cheek slightly. He held the other, and Tubbo held him. He felt the end of Ranboo's tail drape over his leg.

With a delicate tone and worn vocal chords, he quietly, and simply, admitted. “I'd love that. I'd really love that. Living with you three.”

Tubbo tightened his hold.

That night, Tommy fell asleep not alone, but with his two other closest people, his family. Safe, warm, with that insistent nagging at the back of his chest cavity, that told him he was alone, that he was wrong about himself, that he never even knew himself at all, finally silenced.

He had never felt more at home.

[shirophantomvox]

First Date with Chrollo (Human Diary)

Hello everyone! I am back with another “First Date” post featuring the Prince of Darkness. This was an anon post but I can't find the ask anywhere! I have been watching JoJo’s Bizarre Adventures lately and it is a very interesting show. Dio turned into a zombie and he’s so mean to Joseph. Anyway, let’s get into the post. The end is a bit angst-y but I did that to take a slight turn from all Fluff. I hope you enjoy! Part 2 coming sometime this week.m

It is common knowledge that Chrollo loves to read many books. When he was a child, he had time to read and that provided a great source of comfort. Although he seems to be ruthless, every human has the ability to seek compatibility and compassion. Both Hisoka and Chrollo enjoy the romance genre except Hisoka prefers to watch movies while Chrollo loves to read stories. You've known Chrollo since elementary school. You were fortunate enough to be able to move out of Meteor City and attend a better elementary school. As a child, you were an outcast and made few friends but on occasion, Chrollo would see you at a local arcade. Of course, your mother paid for the both of you to have fun but once it was over, it broke your heart because you knew about the conditions he’d return to once he left.

As time went on, you entered college and decided to invite Chrollo on campus so he could be something like a driving force for future success. You’ve been accepted into Yorknew University planning on majoring in Computer Science with a minor in Digital Art. Reaching Chrollo posed a challenge. He never responded to a few messages but on the third try, he answered with an excited response.

“Please forgive me y/n for not responding soon enough. I am more than happy to visit you. I am proud of you and your accomplishments. I do not see myself as a college man but, hey, don’t knock it until you’ve tried it right? I’ll be in touch.”

-Chrollo

At exactly 7 PM on a calm Fall night, standing outside of the campus’ most prominent book store, you began to sweat and your makeup began to drip. Just as you were about to wipe it off, you heard a voice call your name.

“Y/n? Is that you?” He chuckled as he questioned your appearance.

Turning around, you jumped a little at the sight before you. This wasn’t the same Chrollo you remember, of course. He had grown several feet, his face was much sharper, his arms were much bigger, had a bandana tied on his forehead, and he had a few rings on. He was dressed in a white polo shirt, black pressed slacks and black dress shoes. It’s weird. It felt like an arrow was shot through your heart.

“Are you ok? You act as if you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I’m fine! I’m just---You--look…”

“Ah, I see. There’s no need to be flustered. I am the same as when we were kids.”

The Yorknew Sailor Store was designed something exactly like a Barnes and Noble except the walls were painted to match the school’s colors.

The bookstore had a perfectly designed Starbucks, with a wooden finish, black and brown metal tables, beige tile floor, and glass doors.

Chrollo immediately noticed the change in behavior, one he wasn’t used to.

The students were snooty according to him and reminded him of how the city council would act towards him, his family, and those who were like him.

First, you offered to buy him a drink. The good thing about Chrollo is that if you or anyone else offers to buy something, He will not reject it. There is no such thing as having too much pride regarding him.

“Do you drink coffee?”

“Of course I do,” he replied. “But I don’t think I’ve had any of these drinks. A Caramel Macchiato? That sounds good.”

“Order it then! That will give you just the right amount of energy for today’s reading!”

To you, this was just two friends reuniting with each other but something else told you that Chrollo thought it was something more. He only dressed up like this if he was going out with someone special and even then it wasn’t an expensive Polo Short, It was his best t-shirt and jeans.

It boggles your mind how Chrollo acquired his expensive clothing but maybe he obtained a great job and is able to make a living for himself.

“I’d like to order a Caramel Macchiato.”

“What’s the name for this drink?”

“Chrollo,” you responded.

“And for you?”

“I would like a caramel Frappuccino with soy milk and no whip cream.”

“Alright. That’ll be $15.00.”

Chrollo glanced at you wide-eyed.

“It’s ok. I got it.”

You take out your card to pay and as you move out of line you bend over to whisper in his ear. “Maybe you can pay for dinner though.”

He laughed and smiled. “Of course, y/n.”

The bookstore was full of comfortable furniture ranging from light blue, dark blue, white in the lounge area. Both of you decided to sit across from each other on the blue chairs that swallowed you both as you sat.

As he read, he’d point out any interesting points in the book. He got tired of yelling across the table, so he decided to share a chair with you. He could feel the heat radiating from your body.

It was almost obvious that you all were involuntarily flirting with each other. The school was full of couples but occasionally seeing the goofy couple was the highlight of everyone’s day.

“This man was so devoted to a woman that does not know that he exists.”

“Sounds pointless,” you say, still trying to read your book.

“Well, she knows he exists but she is ignoring him and making him look like a fool in front of everyone. He says that there is something about her that he has never seen in any woman.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s her eyes, smile, intelligence, the shape of her lips, and her perfume powder aroma. Those are things that drive men wild.”

You smiled and laughed but came to a quick halt when you felt something along the ridge of your neck made you still. The hair on your neck stood up still as the invading force came in contact with your skin. It was Chrollo grazing his nose against your skin, slightly sniffing in your aroma; slowly breathing in and out.

Closing your eyes couldn’t make your sudden arousal fade. At this point, nearly everybody was looking at you both and looked away. This behavior was innocent for college culture, but it was taken as a cute gesture rather than naughty.

You blush. It was quite surprising that your childhood friend viewed you as something of the sort. It was both flattering and scary.

There’s no denying that Chrollo is handsome but if you dated him and the relationship didn't last, it could ruin your friendship.

At this point, Chrollo had his right arm resting lazily behind your back as his head and next aimed in a position that would allow his nose to lay carelessly on your neck.

“You smell delightful. I didn’t know you wore such expensive perfume. Is it….,” He sniffs again, “Flower Rose?”

“Yes! How did you know? Does your mother wear it?”

“She does now. I bought it for her a week ago and now the guys in the city can’t stay off her.”

Wow. The City. Even though it was a hell hole, it was your hell hole. How is everything? How is your mother? How did you manage to have such an expensive taste in clothing and fragrance?

Chrollo enjoys making others flustered. It's amusing to see them stutter when they’re either aroused or nervous.

On the flip side, seeing Chrollo flustered was the highlight of the century! The bad guys are used to being “bad” but expressing softer emotions makes it amazing and a reminder that they can experience them too.

Grabbing Chrollo’s left hand, you gently kiss it a few times and wink at him. He smiled, hiding his dumbfounded expression, and blushed slightly.

“I see you catch on quick.”

“I was raised in Meteor City. Just because I’m here doesn't mean I have forgotten where I come from. But I didn’t know you liked me.”

“You were the only one that trusted me and played with me when no one would.”

It felt like two magnets were pulling you closer. If he kissed you right here right now, you could just melt into a puddle but before anything happened, Chrollo’s phone rang loud and echoed throughout the bookstore.

Glancing at his phone, you saw an unknown number call, and judging from his actions he stood quickly to his feet.

“I’ll only be gone for a second.”

Hmm. That was odd. During this short intermission, you continue to read your book. Ironic enough, you weren’t into romance novels per se, you enjoyed action and comedy books!

Once Chrollo returned, his face was flushed and his soft demeanor had suddenly disappeared. He looked as if he was going to punch a wall.

“What’s wrong, Chrollo?”

He glanced at you with a somber smile, hoping to convince you that he was alright. “I am fine, y/n.”

“Are you sure?”

“Well, if you count my mother being seriously injured, then yes.”

“Oh no! We can leave now, it’s fine.”

“No, it's ok. She wouldn’t want me to leave you all by yourself at this time of day.” He pointed to the night sky.

Wow! That was quick!

“What do you mean?”

“My mother predicted that I could end up with you...she also predicted that someone would be hurt or in danger if that prophecy was fulfilled. It’s sort of like give or take. In order to make someone happy, someone has to surrender their happiness and I guess it was her.”

A single tear dropped down his cheek and nothing more. He didn’t care if other men singled out his “weakness” because he’d destroy them all and he didn’t want y/n to know about his abilities until later.

The comfort of your warmth against his head provided more than comfort. He felt safe, welcomed, not judged, and vulnerable. He knew that you wouldn’t make him out to be a bad person but instead welcome him home with open arms. You were his human diary.

[moodykylo]

Sleep Deprived

CW: Sleep deprivation, canon typical self loathing

Spoilers for tpp season 2&3

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

Juno Steel was exhausted. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept a full night on the Carte Blanche, and it was starting to catch up to him. 

Juno’s sleep was becoming increasingly restless as the nights came and went; each night leaving old memories rearing their ugly heads. When he was able to sleep, it was anything but peaceful. Whenever Juno found himself drifting off, nightmares would begin behind his eyes, jolting him awake. He had to stop sleeping in the same room as Nureyev in fear of waking him. Now, he was alone, nightmares becoming worse and worse. He had really thought he was done with these childish nightmares of Sarah and Benzaiten, but now they were increasing in both frequency and fervency.

Now, Juno was sitting in his own room, on his bed, eyes burning with fatigue and brain on fire with memories. He sat in his bed, eyelids drooping as he fought with sleep. 

After about half an hour, sleep finally won and Juno’s dreams were anything but sweet.  Sweat beaded on his forehead and he thrashed in his sleep, mumbling quietly, behind his eyes a scene of the past replaying like a favorite movie, until finally, he woke with a gasp, chest heaving. 

Juno groaned, standing from his bed. He wandered out into the hallway - if he was going to be awake, he might as well make himself useful. He stopped in the middle of the hall to lean on the wall as dizziness hit him with no warning. Frustrated with the spell, he pushed through it, rubbing at his eyes.

Juno entered the kitchen, taking out his comms and squinting at it. The rest of the Carte Blanche crew would be up soon. At least he’d gotten some sleep that night, he thought to himself with a bitter laugh. He got himself a glass of water before walking over to the stove and starting to cook a simple meal as breakfast for the crew. 

Contrary to popular belief, Juno did know how to cook. Sure, his ability wasn’t anything spectacular, but he did know how to cook something decent. Today, “something decent” was pancakes. He made almost every pancake perfectly round, saving the oblong one for himself (although he could only manage to eat half of it).

Juno was just finishing up making the pancakes for almost everyone on the ship - although Buddy would be having her usual morning cocktail instead - when Jet walked into the kitchen, bright and early as usual.

“Juno. You’re awake before usual,” Jet said before gazing at the pancakes. “And you’ve cooked. This is out of character, you sleep the latest of everyone,” Jet observed. 

“Hey big guy. I was just awake early, couldn’t sleep.” Juno shrugged. He wasn’t exactly lying per se, but he wasn’t telling the truth, either. Juno rubbed his eyes as another dizzy spell threatened to make him lose his balance.

Jet looked Juno once over without saying a word, and then he grabbed a plate of pancakes. Rita walked into the kitchen next, eyes wide upon seeing Juno standing there. 

“Mistah steel! You’re never awake this early! You made pancakes too!? What, is it my birthday or somethin’? No, no my birthday ain’t for another few months-” Rita rambled before Juno cut her off to explain.

“Just couldn’t sleep. Wanted to do something nice for once, I guess,” he mumbled, leaning against the counter to keep himself steady - why was he so dizzy? Well, it could be the lack of sleep, but it had to be more than that, he thought to himself before Rita’s voice pulled him out of thought. 

“Awww Mistah Steel, that was awful sweet of ya. Thanks, boss!” Rita said before grabbing her pancakes. 

“Not your bo- You’re welcome, Rita.” Juno sighed, a tired smile playing on his lips. 

There was a short wait before the rest of the crew was in the kitchen all with varying reactions. 

“Woah Steel, didn’t know you were capable of being awake before noon, or that you could cook!” Vespa joked before taking a look at Juno, he looked absolutely exhausted. She walked closer to him, talking so only he could hear. “You alright? You look tired.” 

Juno sighed before pushing the heel of his palm into his eyes. “Just fine Vespa, just couldn’t sleep last night.” He blinked hard, trying to get rid of the thick weight of exhaustion from his eyes. 

Vespa almost said something else before Buddy walked into the kitchen. 

“What’s this about Juno cooking?” Buddy said looking over at the pancakes and her cocktail sitting on the counter, not missing how utterly wrecked Juno himself looked. She had known Juno had not been sleeping and saw it was now catching up with the ex P.I. “I’m impressed, wonderful job.” she praised. 

“Thanks…” Juno replied timidly. He was always struck with an odd pride when Buddy complimented his work.

Before any other words could be said, Nureyev entered the kitchen. “Juno, you’re up early…” His eyes were filled with an unspoken worry. Juno just shook his head, already knowing Peter wanted to ask what was wrong. 

“I’m fine, Ransom.” Juno replied before sitting down abruptly; standing was becoming too much work, his knees felt weak and his vision was fading in and out, he was cold, was anyone else cold? It didn’t seem that way… 

“Look everyone I’m fine, I just couldn’t sleep so I figured why don’t I make myself useful for once in the morning.” Juno said again, a tad too crankily. The tone made both Nureyev and Buddy raise an eyebrow, but the conversation was already moving forward when Rita started talking about a stream. Nureyev grabbed his pancakes and Buddy grabbed her meal replacement, a pinot noir, and sat down. 

When everyone was distracted from the discussion, Juno snuck out of the kitchen and into his bedroom to hide under his blankets - he was freezing. He knew that this probably meant a fever. The chills doubled with the room spinning when he moved too quickly and the splitting headache he had, he knew he was completely fucked for the day. 

He closed his eyes for a second before someone was knocking on his door, next thing he knew he was on his feet grabbing clothes from his closet. “Come in,” he said quietly. 

“Juno darling.” Nureyev’s gently called out before walking into the room. “Are you alright? You left rather quickly.” Peter looked over to Juno picking out clothes from the closet. 

“Yeah, just changing into some actual clothes…” Juno responded, putting his selected clothes on the bed. He discreetly grabbed onto the bedpost as the worst dizzy spell that day hit him.

“Juno?” Peter asked as he watched Juno grip the bedpost and sway dangerously. “What’s going on?” 

“‘M fine, just need a minute.” Juno straightened himself out trying to pretend nothing had even happened. “What’s up? What did you need?” Juno looked at Peter, shaking his head to clear the blurriness that was obstructing his view of his beautiful boyfriend, his makeup already done for the day, and suddenly he was embarrassed to be seen in his current state. 

“Are you okay? What happened just then?” Nureyev walked closer to Juno, taking note of how tired he looked, of the slight flush he could see on Juno’s face. “Are you sick? You look exhausted.” 

Juno mentally cursed himself, he was busted - he knew he couldn’t lie to Peter Nureyev, whenever he tried the thief saw through his lies immediately. 

“No, I’m not sick. Just haven’t been sleeping very well lately. It’s kind of starting to take a physical toll.” He sat down on his bed, too weak to stand, a chill running up his spine, accentuating his weakness. 

“Nightmares again?” Peter asked Juno, to which the other nodded. Peter took note of Juno’s state and frowned, concern evident on his face. 

“Are you sure you’re not ill? You seem to have a fever.” Nureyev cupped Juno’s face, frown deepening at the heat he found. 

“Careful Nureyev, you don’t want to get frown lines.” Juno joked before leaning into the coolness of Peter’s hands. 

“Now isn’t the time for jokes, darling, I am rather worried about you.” Peter said to Juno, cupping his too-hot cheek. 

“‘M okay.” Juno said, still leaning into Peter. 

“You don’t seem okay, dear… I’ll be right back, alright?” Nureyev asked, sitting Juno down on his bed. He was going to get Vespa, she was the ship’s doctor, after all, she would know what to do. 

“...Okay,” Juno responded after a beat. 

Peter took a final look at Juno, smiling at him worriedly before walking out of the room and beginning the search for Vespa. 

With Nureyev’s absence, Juno laid down on his bed, wrapping himself in blankets, trying to keep his eyes open. It was a grueling task, but he didn’t really feel like reliving every traumatic event he’d ever had upon falling asleep.

Sleep almost won, but just barely, Nureyev was back in Juno’s room with Vespa before the former P.I. could succumb to slumber. 

“Steel, I knew something was up with you this morning,” Vespa said as she entered the room, looking Juno over. 

Nureyev stood out of Vespa’s way, nervously watching, he’d seen Juno deal with quite a lot, and perhaps that’s what made him more nervous. 

“So, you wanna tell me what’s wrong, or am I going to have to examine you?” Vespa asked Juno, who only nodded listlessly. 

“Yes to which one Steel?” Vespa asked sharply, her worry coming off as impatience, she was used to Juno’s sharp tongue, and seeing him acting so unlike himself was worrying. 

“First one. Haven’t been sleeping well.” Juno slurred exhaustedly. 

Vespa looked at him sympathetically, she understood sleepless nights due to nightmares, she, however, had never had a time where the sleeplessness caught up to her quite as bad as it did Juno. 

“There’s nothing I can really do besides treat the fever Ransom told me about.” Vespa explained, pulling out fever reducers and handing them to Juno, who swallowed them dry and laid down. 

Vespa and Peter exchanged a worried look before Vespa left the room. 

Juno watched Vespa leave through half-closed eyes, fighting against sleep. He ultimately lost the battle, however, when he was asleep within minutes of Vespa’s departure. 

Peter watched Juno fall asleep, sighing in relief watching the ex-detective’s features grow soft and unguarded in sleep. Unfortunately for Juno, this peaceful sleep didn’t last long. 

After about an hour of Juno sleeping “peacefully”, Nureyev watched Juno’s expression twist into discomfort, sweat rolling down his boyfriend’s face, cheeks slightly flushed from fever. Juno started mumbling incoherently, terrified of a threat invisible to Nureyev’s eyes. 

Nureyev considered waking Juno as he watched him grow more and more terrified, but ultimately didn’t need to, Juno woke on his own, a strangled cry ripping from his throat. 

Juno couldn’t remember what his dream was about when he woke, hearing his own screams and feeling tears slipping down his cheeks, but he was still shaken anyway. He remembered hearing screams and feeling cool tears in his dream but maybe that was just his own. 

Nureyev was staring at him, looking at Juno with such worry that it made the P.I. feel sick to his stomach. He didn’t like being the cause of such a look. 

“Sorry, I’m okay.” Juno said timidly, watching Peter relax a little. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Peter asked, but regretted it when he saw Juno visibly tense at the question. 

“I don’t exactly remember what happened.” Juno explained, weariness seeping out with every word. 

Nureyev only nodded, letting Juno drift off again.

____________________________________________________________________________

Many hours passed of the same cycle of Juno sleeping and waking with a strangled noise, whether it be a gasp or a scream, and Juno could tell it was only stressing Peter out, so when dinner finally came, Juno practically begged Nureyev to take a break from watching him. 

“I’ll be fine, It’ll only be an hour at most.” He’d said, Nureyev, nodding and leaving with a look of apprehension. 

Juno sighed, he knew why Nureyev was hesitant to leave, why he was always hesitant to leave; because Juno himself had left him alone. 

After the guilt wore off, Juno found his eyes growing heavy once more and he fell back to sleep. 

It was quiet for a while before Juno awoke again, sweat pouring down his face, and a faint knock at the door. 

“Come in,” Juno said quietly, expecting Vespa to be checking in on him, however, that was not who it was. 

“Ah Juno, I hope I didn’t wake you.” It was Buddy, her heels clicking on the floor as she walked into Juno’s room. 

“You didn’t wake me, I was already awake,” Juno said, embarrassed; he respected Buddy, and here he was looking like a mess. 

Buddy frowned. “Ah well, I’d like to have a chat with you,” Buddy said, her nerves ever slightly showing. 

Juno’s chest tightened with fear. “Um, yeah, sure…” Juno replied, feeling like a child caught with their hand caught in the cookie jar. 

“You’re not in any sort of trouble. I just want to ask, are you alright? I’ve just noticed you haven’t been sleeping recently, and well, I’ve been woken up a few times from hearing you scream.” Buddy explained looking at Juno with pity. 

Juno felt small and weak. “I’m sorry.” He responded meekly, guilt ever so evident in his tone. 

“Nonsense,” Buddy replied sitting on Juno’s bed, keeping her distance but still sitting close enough to be a comfort. “It’s no bother to me, it only concerns me that you’re bottling things up again.” She gave Juno a knowing look. 

“Sorry.” Juno replied, looking at the floor. He felt the guilt crawl up from his chest and into his throat and before he knew it, he was crying in front of the person he respected the most. 

Buddy felt a pang of sadness but did not let it show, she kept her composure and began to speak again. 

“I know things haven’t been easy for you. I don’t want you bottling all these emotions up, how about you talk about these nightmares of yours with me? No pressure but, it might help.” Buddy said, placing a comforting hand on Juno’s back. 

And with that, Juno began to sob, spilling his guts to Buddy, telling her everything that happened in his dreams. He wailed and retold the memories to Buddy, stopping with hiccuping breaths. 

Buddy had known of the former P.I’s struggles but hadn’t known the extent of them all. Perhaps she could blame the fever but she hadn’t expected all the walls Juno had built up to crumble at that moment, but she knew one thing - Juno trusted her. 

Juno couldn’t believe how easily he’d just said everything to Buddy, his captain, and the person who could kick him out of the crew at the slightest wrong move. He didn’t care, he finally felt light, lighter than he’d felt in months, and after a few moments, he spoke.

“So much for you not being my therapist,” Juno said with a tired smile.

Buddy laughed, the sound hearty and melodic, making Juno laugh along with her. 

“I may not be your therapist, but I do care about you, Juno, and that counts for something,” Buddy replied once her laughter died down. 

Juno smiled. “Yeah. Thanks, Buddy.” He laid down, suddenly too exhausted to continue sitting upright. 

“Any time dear, now I do believe it’s time you get some rest, hmm?” Buddy suggested, standing from the bed. 

Juno nodded, closing his eyes and drifting off, and as Buddy left he fell asleep, staying asleep, peacefully for the first time in a good long while.

[oinkz]

bound to you

— you share an umbrella with your ex, oikawa. (gn!reader)

— angst, harassment (not by oikawa or the reader), light fluff, 3.5k words, very experimental so i apologize if it’s a bit.. messy

A dark cloud from outside the classroom window stretches across the canvas of the sky, its presence mighty and foreboding. Any minute now, it could start pouring, and that known fact is making it more and more difficult to focus on your calculus test as time lets on.

Just one more question. That’s it. And then, you can finally speed home, tend to your aching head, and take a nap, even. After the awfully long day you’ve had, you think you deserve it.

It was a cliche sort of day, not completely terrible, but it still rendered you exhausted nonetheless. You had woken late, skipped breakfast, ran into someone who was holding an iced coffee in their hand, and then strutted the school parameters in a very obviously stained uniform. (In the end, you’re just glad that the coffee wasn’t scorching hot.)

You had wanted to return home immediately after the last bell rang, but you needed to make up a test you were absent for last week. This brings you to now, in the midst of the very last question. 

With whatever wisdom and knowledge you can muster, you power through, tapping through your calculator and recalling that god-forsaken unit circle.

What even is a unit circle? You wouldn’t know, you’re merely doing enough to pass.

All you know is that one, this test wasn’t as bad as you thought it’d be (thank goodness for that) and two, you didn’t have enough time to check the weather this morning. Of course, the one day you failed to check is the day the weather gods decide to hurl you with a storm.

You had forgotten your umbrella. And once you complete this math problem, you’ll have to end your school day in the most cliche way possible - with the walking through pouring rain after a particularly hard day. You see it all the time in movies and books. 

‘Life imitates art,’ they say. And it sure does.

You don’t take long before you can input your final answer to the calculator and write it down on your paper. You even box the number in, making it nice and pretty for the teacher to read through your messy work. Maybe it’s to be generous for the sake of being generous - you know, to make your teacher’s job a little easier. Or maybe it’s to lend some good karma your way, in hopes of postponing the upcoming storm for another thirty minutes. You’re a little desperate, to say the least.

“Done?” 

Speak of the devil. Your head shoots upward to find said teacher.

You merely nod, handing her the paper.

Then, you’re on your own for the remaining minutes in school. You wish your teacher a good evening, and then wander through the empty halls to find your locker.

5pm is a quiet hour for Aoba Johsai. At this point, most students have made their way home - even the ones with extracurriculars. It was a little unsettling when you first stayed late, but you’ve grown used to it.

Long were the days when you would stay in the gym till late evening to help the boys in the volleyball club. They’re memories you wish you could look at bitterly, but you simply can’t. Because in the end of the day, you were happy. So happy.

But just because it was happy, doesn’t mean it was meant to be.

You take a sharp breath inwards, hoping to put an end to this - this reminiscing. You’ve moved on now, and you’re okay. Everything is just dandy without them. Without the supposed love of your life.

You’re taking books out of your locker when you hear it - the small roar of thunder and heavy pitter patter of pouring rain. For the tenth time today, a sigh falls from your mouth. Certainly, you’re not surprised, but it still sucks nonetheless.

You just want one good thing to happen today. One.

Now, you stand at the school entrance, a low frown weighing down the corners of your lips.

There’s no avoiding it - you have to get home somehow... but still. Mother Nature can be so, so cruel. Was it not enough that you walked around school with a dark coffee stain on your blouse?

You’re so busy moping that you don’t see the painfully familiar presence quietly making his way beside you, a subtle, yet adoring smile on his lips.

“What are you waiting for?” He wonders, staring at the sky alongside with you, eyes genuinely curious.

Your heart stops for what feels like minutes.

Because you know that voice. Everyone does, but especially you.

It’s the same voice that lulled you to sleep when insomnia was eating you away. The one you’ve heard sing far too many times thanks to those long gone karaoke nights. The one that whispered ‘I love you’s into your ear when you felt completely, and utterly alone.

That voice.

“It’s raining,” you reply bluntly, wanting to end this conversation as soon as possible. It’s not because you hate him per se - in fact, it’s quite the opposite. But you would rather not be anywhere close to him. 

“Where’s your umbrella?” He asks. It’s a simple question, but it’s so perceptive. Just like him. 

Of course he remembers how you always check the weather every morning. Of course he remembers how you had always - without fail - remembered to bring an umbrella. 

You hate the hope that swells up in your stomach. And you so badly want to hate him, too.

“I—“ You start, shakily. “It’s been a long day.” 

He hums. Whether it’s in agreement, or to say he can tell, you’re not sure.

“C’mon then.”

Dumbfounded, you’re not sure what “c’mon, then” even means. You hope he’s not implying...?

Reluctantly, you look over to him, and he’s waving an umbrella in his hand.

Oh, no. You can’t.

You shake your head rapidly. “It’s okay, really—“

“Please?” his voice is painfully quiet.

He’s practically begging for you to look him in the eye.

And who were you to resist? He’s always been difficult to say no to. 

You know that more than anyone.

So, when Oikawa makes his way outside, opens his umbrella, and gestures for you to get under...

You do, despite the pure melancholy that swallows you whole.

One year ago.

You don’t remember how it got to this point. Had you known that dating someone would have so many consequences, you would’ve been a little more careful with your feelings.

Falling for Tooru was easy, but terribly dangerous. You learnt this the hard way.

What started out with cute little love notes adorned all over your locker ended with handwritten threats telling you to.....

You can’t even think about it because it had brought tears to your eyes the first time. You’d think one insulting note about your appearance was enough, but it had worsened - even when you were trying hard to stay optimistic. Soon enough, you had to take jabs about your skills, your mannerisms, and little by little, they became daily reminders of how every single thing about you will always fall short compared to your beloved, Tooru.

“.... I can’t do this anymore,” You say, your voice barely above a breath.

Oikawa’s limbs immediately lock in place. He looks up and sees the sad look in your eyes, the way they glisten with tears. No, no, no...

“Surely, you don’t mean...?” He can’t even finish his own sentence, because the thought is too scary.

But somehow, you finish for him. Just like you’ve always finished each other’s sentences, you’ve managed to finish this one, too. Except it doesn’t make him laugh and kiss your lips in utter adoration. This time, it’s gut-wrenching.

“Yes, I want to break up, Tooru.” Your words are firm and sure, but you... you are anything but.

Tooru has to prevent this somehow, but he’s not sure how. 

How do you tell someone to stay?

When staying risks their safety?

When staying puts them in pain?

As out-of-worldly as his skills may be, Oikawa Tooru is only human. You have brought him too much joy for it just to end like this.... With some nobody who can’t keep their jealousy to themselves. And despite the pain you’re going through, he wants you to stay.

So, he brings his hands up to your cheeks, taking you in in your entirety.

“Y/n...” He pleads with his eyes, and it’s the most desperate you’ve seen him. Perhaps it’s because deep down, he knows he’s being selfish.

You swallow the lump in your throat, unable to form the right words in your mouth. Silently, you wrap your arms around his waist, so painfully slow, as if it was the last time you were going to hold him. As if to say sorry.

Sorry for what? You never did anything wrong.

He doesn’t bother to hug you back, because if he does, he’ll lose. Hugging you back will mean he’s also saying goodbye, and he’s not. He’s only just getting started with you. “We can’t...”

“We have to,” You force out, and he hates how absolutely rigid your words come out to be.

He shakes his head in denial. “No, we don’t.”

Your patience is running thin at this point. Because in truth, you tried. You always had, for him.

When the first note came, you didn’t tell him until weeks later. For months and months, you had put on a front to save his feelings and yours. At the time, pretending seemed like the best option.

But it wasn’t, because little did you know, pretending was a gateway to even more issues you had no idea was taking root in you. At this point, you’re not sure if you even know yourself anymore.

If you can’t understand yourself, does Tooru? Does he really love you, or does he just love the facade you put on?

Whatever the answer is, it doesn’t matter, because either way, you’re tired and in dire need of some healing. As terribly cruel as it may be, breaking up and focusing on yourself is truly the only way to be okay again. You may not be okay right now - if anything, the pain is excruciating - but the time will come. You have that much hope, at least.

“Yes, we do, Tooru,” you push onwards, pulling away from your embrace with a deep and sad frown tainting your features. “I love you - I really do - but I can’t keep pretending everything is okay. Those notes hurt, but that’s just the least of it... I just... need to be alone.”

“I’m sorry,” you finish with a sigh. He can’t even bring himself to ask why, because next thing he knew, you were out the door, making your way back home.

But what even was home at that point? Tooru was yours. Yet somehow, the foundation of love and passion wasn’t enough to keep it afloat.

Now.

“How are you?”

These are the first words that are spoken after ten long minutes of silence. Tooru - no, Oikawa is uncharacteristically awkward as he says them.

You’re not sure how to respond.

Had it been anyone else, you would’ve bluntly replied with a “fine”, but the question catches you off guard. When was the last time Oikawa Tooru asked you how you were?

So, so long ago.

It was never ‘how are you’ with him, but rather, ‘do you think aliens are real’ or ‘would you ever date an alien’. Or even, ‘do you know how much I love you’ or ‘what kind of house do you want to live in in the future’.

How did someone so near and dear to you become such a stranger?

You huff out a sigh, stopping your train of thought before it wanders off to somewhere it shouldn’t be.

“I’m okay,” you answer, holding back your tongue. You don’t even bother to ask ‘how are you’ back, because if you did, he’d probably answer with something so blunt and distant, you wouldn’t know how to react.

Yet, somehow, he doesn’t. Instead, he prods further, practically forcing a conversation on you. You’re not sure whether your thankful for it, or if it bothers you. No one likes an awkward silence, anyway.

“Do you still take the same way home?” He asks curiously, but his eyes are far-off, trained on the droplets of water that surround you two.

You furrow your eyebrows. What kind of question is that? “Yes. Why wouldn’t I?”

He shrugs. “I dunno. I found a shortcut one day.”

He did?

How did he just find a shortcut? Out of nowhere, too?

“I know what you’re thinking.” He sighs, but it’s not out of irritation - at least, not towards you. “But I just.... one day, I was just walking around town and at the time, I was still hung up on you.”

“... So you found a shortcut to my house while that happened?”

“Yeah, basically,” he laughs at how foolish he sounds. Why is he even saying this?

“You can’t just tell me that,” you say, a little too coldly for his liking. “We broke up.”

“You broke up with me,” he argues, and you swear, somehow, the rain gets louder. “I wanted nothing to do with it. Y’know, I would’ve heard you out if you just talked to me. We were best friends, y/n.”

“I’m sorry, okay? Is that what you want to say?” You stop in your tracks completely. “I know that at the time, I should’ve let you speak, but rationality doesn’t matter when you get daily notes telling you how ugly you are. I just needed it to end, somehow.”

Oikawa stops in his tracks, too. You’re no longer under the umbrella with him, instead you’re willingly getting soaked by the rain. From afar, this scene probably looks straight out of a drama.

He turns to face you in all your glory. Hair wet,  eyes glassy, and makeup-stained cheeks. It’s a beautiful, tragic mess.

“Did you believe anything they said about you?” He questions, so softly he’s not sure you can hear.

But you do. You always do.

“Sometimes,” you answer. It’s the first time you’ve been honest with him in a while. “Can you blame me?”

He frowns. “No, y/n.... I could never blame you, you know that?”

Did you?

To be fair, your sense of judgement back then was quite clouded. You didn’t know what to feel about yourself, and Tooru... you had just came to the conclusion that he deserved someone better. Someone who could take meaningless insults better.

You should’ve tried harder.

“I— it doesn’t matter anymore...” you reply. “It’s been a year, Tooru.”

You don’t even mean to say his first name, it just slips out naturally.

After a long pause, he sighs. 

“C’mere. You’re gonna get sick.”

You wrap your arms around yourself, walking forward into the shade of the umbrella. 

The next few minutes are a bit conflicting, to say the least. There are unspoken words hanging in the air that no one wants to say, nor think about. 

Oikawa’s grip around the umbrella is so unknowingly tight that he doesn’t even recognize the ache in his muscles. What good would it do to rekindle a fire that never really went out in the first place?

After the breakup, he never really... moved on. He watches, observes you from a distance, and when he works up the courage to approach you, you’re gone. As difficult as it was to find you again, he still notices things that give him hope.

 He notices how your gaze unknowingly lingers as he walks past the halls. How a small smile creeps up your lips when you hear that the boys’ volleyball club had won a match. 

You still care, he knows that much.

But is it worth trying to be close to you again?

“You don’t have to ever talk to me again after this if that makes you comfortable,” he tells you, his expression weirdly unreadable. “But let me just say this.”

He pauses his walking and turns to face you. His gaze on you is so intense, it practically compels you to meet his eyes. 

You don’t like where this is going. At all. Once you get too comfortable and stare too hard, you’ll fall into the same rabbit hole you got yourself into a year ago. Being in his mere presence is dangerous, and that’s why you were so adamant about avoiding him so much in the first place.

But he’s hypnotizing and so, so tempting. One second turns to five when you stare at his face.

“I miss you. Not even just in a romantic way, but you were my friend first,” he confesses, and the sincerity that follows his words shatters your heart. “I’m sorry it turned out like this.”

A lump forms in your throat but you’re too frozen in place to swallow it. Because you see him - the little freckles on his nose, the flush in his cheeks, the dreamy look in his eyes. They hold remnants of your second year in high school, when love was what it was supposed to be - exhilarating, healthy, and freeing. 

You see him on TV, hear his name in the halls, dream of tasting his lips when you’re asleep. There was never an escape even when you desperately tried to avoid him, and now that he’s right here in front of you, you actually have a chance to touch him. To kiss him.

And you want to. So, so badly. His lips look so terribly cold and lonely. 

But who were you to relieve that?

Good god, did you miss him.

“I miss you too,” you breathe out, weak in the knees at the force of his gaze. “I wish I didn’t take those notes so personally. Wish it didn’t come between us.”

He smiles. “So hard on yourself as always, y/n,” he says, a ghost of a chuckle leaving his lips. “Anyone would’ve lost their minds. I would’ve.”

“Yeah... But I should’ve told you earlier,” you argue. “Maybe then we would’ve resolved it—“

“You are not at fault for us falling apart,” He sounds confident - as if it was a truth. 

You don’t know why he keeps insisting it wasn’t your fault. It was. 

Your only argument back is, “... Was too.”

Tooru squints his eyes. Two can play this game.

“Was not.”

“Was too.”

“Was not.”

“Was too.”

“Was not.”

“Was not.”

“Was too— oh, fuck off.” Your expression fades to a glare. 

Oh, how he missed this.

“But seriously, I never ever blamed you for what happened,” he prods firmly, making sure you get the idea into your pretty little head. The idea that he doesn’t hate you - never has, never will. “I just miss us. Do you think you could ever....?”

You tilt your head to the side. “Ever... what?”

A full on blush blooms across his cheeks. “Date me... again..?”

Now, it’s your turn to chuckle. “Seriously, you still want to? After all that shit?”

“Of course I want to, are you kidding me?” Tooru quips back, not wasting a second. “I’m crazy over you, y/n.”

That’s it.

You don’t even know what comes over you for what happens next. Before you could get a hold of your senses, your lips are on his. The taste is one you’ve had on your tongue countless of times, but this time, it’s so strange, so new.

Whatever unsaid apologies you never worked the courage to tell him take the form of this - your perfect lips, and your wandering hands. You two don’t even notice how the umbrella is long gone, allowing the rain to kiss you all over. 

He’s close, so close. His chest is pressed against yours and you can practically feel his bare skin through the thin, wet fabric of his uniform. It’s so intoxicating, you could pass out, right here and right now.

How did you ever give this up?

“I love you,” he whispers after pulling away, his hands cupping your cheeks and gazing at your face in its entirety. “I love you, I love you, I love you. I’ve been wanting to kiss you for so long.”

He doesn’t stop there, though. He nuzzles his nose into yours, then kisses your forehead, then your cheeks, then plays with your hair.

You want to cry.

“You still... want me?” You ask, your voice painfully small. 

“Yeah, I still want you.” The grin on his lips don’t allow any room for question. “Do you still want me?”

“Yeah... Sadly,” you send him a cheeky smile back.

He flicks the back of your head, and soon enough, you two are kissing in the rain again.

Perhaps this is a sign that Oikawa Tooru is bound to you. He wants you endlessly, kisses like an absolute god, and unknowingly lives through all your worst days with you.

You wouldn’t mind if fate just so happened to like the look of you two together. Shitty, handwritten notes or not.

You like the look of Tooru with you, too.

[shihalyfie]

What are your feelings on the general tonal direction that the dub was given compared to the original?

I had this general feeling that the dub was always attempting way too hard to be funny. Like, jokes seemed to be shoved in at every opportunity. Establishing shot with nothing but the BG playing. Nope got to have a funny intercom moment about a jelly donut in the pool. Scene transition, nope got to have the kids running in the background call back to the donut.

I dunno. It was something that always seemed to bother me in hindsight. It was amusing, but out of place.

Preliminary point of disclaimer: I am absolutely not saying any of the following as an indictment of people who personally prefer the American English dub for any reason; I'm well aware that there's a lot going on in terms of accessibility, reasons of personal sentiment/attachment, and the fact that legally available subtitled versions of the earlier series range from limited accessibility to downright absent. I also fully admit to having my own attachments from the fact that said dub was what I technically got into the franchise via to begin with; I love the voice actors and I also have certain zinger lines from the dub I personally treasure, so please take everything I'm about to say with an understanding that there's a lot of extremely complicated personal sentiments mixed in with it.

I will say that, first of all, which dub we're talking about is important. There's a pretty huge difference between the Adventure/02 dubs and the Tamers/Frontier/Savers ones, and then of course the one for Xros Wars (although I think the majority of the fanbase is pretty critical of that last one, given that the "but my childhood" bias is out of the picture). There's also a mild difference between the Adventure and 02 ones, since the latter is probably the most aggressive in terms of how off-the-rails it could get with its changes (and I am confident in saying that I fully believe this is the case even outside my own bias for 02 as a series). I honestly never really had much to gripe about with Tamers through Savers; I think they were still fairly aggressive with the added jokes, but it wasn't to the level that I'm particularly bothered (even though I generally prefer watching with the Japanese version these days anyway). It's probably a matter of taste. The second 02 movie and the Tamers/Frontier movies were also dubbed during this era, and I have the same to say about those.

Adventure and 02 are a completely different story, and especially in regards to 02. I think added jokes are okay to a certain extent -- again, probably question of taste -- but I have problems when the desire to be funny starts actually cutting into characterization or story integrity. That definitely happened way too many times for my liking in Adventure and 02, and I have a lot of personal misgivings about it, especially since its definition of "funny" often overlapped with "these characters start insulting each other for no reason" to degrees that stop feeling like "comfortable friends" and more just "needlessly malicious". Certain characters (Mimi and Daisuke come most to mind) are very different to the point where I couldn't make sense of their intended character arcs, and actively disliked their characters as a kid for being rude, condescending, and obnoxious before I watched the Japanese version and realized how different they were. (I give my regards to everyone who saw the potential in them with the dub only, of which there are many, but please understand that I am not the only person in this camp, and that I feel the changes most certainly led to a statistical increase in people disliking them.) In the case of 02, I also think the insistence on being reckless about the changes adversely impacted the story and character arcs overall because a lot of things that were meant to be consistent in Japanese stopped making sense, a lot of the emotional depth and range of the characters got stripped out to make said jokes -- hard to believe Daisuke's nearly as emotionally pained and impacted at times when a joke has to be added in there, especially when most of his lines in the first half involve him dunking on others and others dunking on him for comedy purposes -- and in general, I'm not against adding jokes per se, but there are times I just really wish it could have learned to hold it back just once during some very important scenes that have vital story and character importance. I am personally very positive that this only contributed further to the stigma of 02 being a poorly written series with inconsistent character and story writing, especially when there was a lot of nuance lost in said character arcs.

I'm not a localization purist. I don't think changes are inherently bad. I'm fully aware that things were very different back then, and at the time it was considered that making those changes may have been necessary to reach the Anglosphere market. I don't personally know if it was actually true; nearly every other country got a significantly more accurate dub and they seem to be fine (and they're currently side-eyeing the Americans for being so weird about it, and I can't say I blame them for it, especially when Anglosphere fanbase denizens have this awful entitled attitude about acting like other dubs are lesser and that somehow "but my childhood" only applies if you've seen in American English, never mind that other people have childhoods too and the Southeast Asian English dub also exists). I wonder if it's really a good thing in the long run for Americans to be pinned as people who can't enjoy something unless you add a million jokes. I'm also disturbed by the fact a lot of people gave and still give passes to some sentiments that often feel like downright anti-Asian motives when it comes to dub changes, just because "my childhood". I completely understand that localization means that you have to alter certain cultural things lest they become difficult to relate to or understand, I cannot say I'm on board with the fact these kinds of dubs were and are often so aggressive about it that they feel like they're pathologically trying to scrub out the Asian scourge. I don't have any particular grudges against the dubbing staff for what they did on an individual level because, as someone who doesn't work in the localization industry, I don't know what pressures they had or what they had to consider in marketing this product, I think everyone has the right to judge which version of the product they prefer for themselves; I just am really uncomfortable with what kind of sentiment fuels the idea that these changes were necessary in the first place, I dislike the fact that I can't voice my concerns without being treated like I'm insulting a sacred cow, and I'm a bit frustrated that the "the dub didn't change anything significant" is still such a pervasive sentiment in this fanbase after 20 years, making discussion of this issue difficult and discussion of the series itself unproductive when we keep running into two people "arguing" about what's actually two very different things.

[hookingminor]

three lessons (2) - mat barzal

a/n: kinda blacked out and just wrote all of this I have no idea if its even good also thank you for all the love on part 1, I love receiving feedback, I always read the tags y’all add thank you so much

word count: 4.2k

warnings (18+): loss of virginity, smut

*italics are flashbacks

PART ONE HERE / PART THREE

-

“So what made you come up with this idea?” Mat asked when you cuddled back up to finish the movie. After you’d hugged him to death in a thank you, he gave you his shirt to slip on before asking if you wanted to finish the movie. You felt a little awkward just using him to make you cum and then leaving, so you agreed.

He’d been wondering for the past week why you were doing this. When you came to him that first day, he was too in shock to process. You were so confident in your answers, he didn’t question your intentions. Right now, he was hoping they weren’t misguided and that he didn’t just give you your first orgasm because you’d given into peer pressure.

“You’re going to think it’s stupid,” you said, running your fingers lightly over the arm wrapped around your waist.

“Try me,” he persisted.

“Well, my friends are always talking about their sex lives, and I kind of felt left out, you know? It’s not like I was saving myself or felt pressured to do it, I just wanted to get it over with. I know that sounds bad, but I wanted to start moving on with my life, I guess,” you explained, “And it’s not like the opportunity was going to arise for me naturally any time soon.”

“That doesn’t sound stupid, if that’s what you want to do. I know a lot of girls take this seriously, so I just wanted to know,” he said.

“That’s never really been me,” you replied, “I just never got far enough into a relationship with someone to actually do it. I’ve only ever gone on a couple dates,” you added the last part sheepishly.

“Soon enough you’ll be taking on the whole town, though. You’ve got that to look forward to,” Mat said with a laugh, easing the tension in the room. The last thing he wanted to do was make you feel embarrassed or insecure.

You chuckled at his joke, feeling yourself relax, “If they’re all half as good as you, I’ll be having the time of my life.”

“Might be a little hard…” Mat contemplated, “I have been told I’m a very gracious lover…”

“I’d chirp you if I could but I don’t really have any experience to go off of so I’ll let you have this one,” you teased back.

“Give it a few months. I’ll be waiting for your final answer,” he said, nipping playfully at your earlobe.

“I’ll be sure to give you my full reports,” you threw back with an eye roll, sarcasm lacing your voice.

-

When you left Mat’s apartment, he promised he’d text you later to tell you his availability in the upcoming weeks.

His availability happened to be very limited over the next week and a half considering he had two home games before he had to leave for a short roadie. Obviously, neither of you could do anything about that, but as the days passed, you felt your insides grow in anticipation. You’d only had one little taste, and you were already about to beg him for more. Maybe it was a good thing you hadn’t had sex until now, you had a feeling you were going to be an insatiable lover. You’d nearly gotten yourself off daily just replaying the memories of Mat’s tongue on you.

It was almost two weeks from your first lesson when you finally talked about your next one.

Mat: You busy this weekend?

Your heart sped up quickly as you typed your response.

You: I’m free every evening after 5

Mat: Want to come over Friday night around 8? Plan to stay the night

You: Oh? What’s the plan this time?

Mat: Come over and you’ll find out

You: … I guess I can fit you into my schedule

Mat: See you then, baby

-

Friday came quickly, much more quickly than you thought it would. All the mental preparation in the world couldn’t help the nerves that wracked your body that day. The classes you had passed in a blur, you weren’t even sure if you even paid attention to any of your professors. You had a study group session planned after your last class, but you decided to skip since you figured your brain wouldn’t be able to focus for another hour.

Then 5pm rolled around, and you were beginning to get restless. You tried making yourself dinner beforehand, but the thought of eating anything made you want to throw up. It’s not like you were nervous, per se, but more anxious as you thought about what Mat had in mind for the night. You hoped it was sex.

God, you really hoped it was sex. Two weeks had you wound tight like an old clock, and you hadn’t even touched his dick yet.

And now you were thinking about his dick, which didn’t help your focus at all.

You spent the next couple hours getting ready. Forty-five minutes were spent in the shower, shaving just about everything you could. You didn’t know Mat’s preference, but it was better to be safe than sorry your first time around, right? The next half hour was spent blow-drying your hair and doing your makeup. And the last hour was spent deciding what to wear. It shouldn’t have taken you that long, but you couldn’t choose which one was better. Not to say that you bought a couple options of lingerie, but a girl only lost her virginity once; you were going to make this count.

Eventually, you settled on a black set, spending extra time to hype yourself up in the mirror before covering up with a skirt and loose sweater.

Before you knew it, you were standing outside his door, waiting for Mat to let you in.

He greeted you with a warm smile, dressed in a pair of dark jeans and a white shirt.

“Hey, come on in. You look great,” he said, opening the door wider.

“What’s that smell? Are you cooking something?” You asked, smelling an aroma coming from the kitchen.

“Yeah, well, trying to cook. The only thing I can handle is pasta, so I hope you like alfredo,” Mat chuckled, “I figured I should at least try to make tonight somewhat memorable.”

“You’re going to be the first man I sleep with, I think that already makes you pretty memorable,” you joked, running your hands along the kitchen countertop.

“Uh, dinner should be ready in, like, two minutes, so go ahead and take a seat,” Mat said, rushing back over to turn off the stove.

“Is it going to be edible?” You asked, pulling out a chair at the table.

“We’re about to find out. If you get food poisoning, I’m not liable,” he said, setting a plate in front of you.

��Is that how you win over women? Poisoning them on the first date?” You asked.

“Technically, this is the second date,” he pointed out, “And I usually don’t cook, so don’t get used to it.”

You picked up a forkful of pasta and brought it to your mouth.

“Well, as far as pasta goes, this isn’t the worst I’ve ever had,” you complimented after swallowing your first bite.

“Oh thank god,” he said in relief, “I’ll take that.”

You continued to eat in silence for a couple minutes, glad to finally get something in your stomach. You asked Mat about his latest road trip and the games, and he asked you about school and work. The conversation flowed so well between you two, there weren't any awkward pauses or topics you both didn’t have an opinion on. You found yourself laughing at his stories, like, head thrown back laughing and eyes crinkling laughter. You’d never felt more at ease than you did right now.

Mat’s eyes were bright, and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had this much fun with someone. He felt his heart sink a little at that thought: he was thoroughly enjoying his time with you, and he wasn’t even trying to woo you. You looked so beautiful in front of him, eating his subpar pasta but acting like it was the best, and smiling so hard he could see the small tears beginning to form in the corners of your eyes. He probably looked just as ridiculous to you, but he couldn’t stop himself from smiling.

Mat began wondering why he’d never talked to you earlier. Sure, you’d seen him at casual hangouts when Anders brought you around, but he’d never really given you the time of day. And for the life of him, he couldn’t recall why he hadn’t.

He didn’t notice you then, but he was noticing you now. And that spelled trouble for Mat in big, bolded capital letters.

You’d stayed at the table a whole thirty minutes after you’d finished dinner, going through another two glasses of wine before the conversation began to settle.

“Here, let me get that for you,” Mat said, quickly getting up to take your plate when you began to pile your silverware up.

“No, I got it. You can’t cook and clean, Mat,” you argued, shifting the plate out of his reach.

In his brief moment of confusion, you snatched the plate from his hand, shuffling over to the sink as quickly as possible.

“You’re not doing my dishes,” he chuckled, slapping your hands out of the way. Water splashed up everywhere, soapy bubbles coating the counter. Even a few flew up into your hair, and you flinched your eyes shut as the water hit your face.

“I’m sorry,” he said, fully laughing now, “Actually, I’m not sorry. I told you not to touch the dishes.”

“Sorry for trying to be a good guest,” you snorted, flicking your wet fingers at his face with a smirk.

Mat grasped the wrist in front of his face, tugging you closer. His other hand lifted to grip your waist and pressed your front to his body, and your laughter suddenly died down.

“How about we just leave them for now?” He asked.

“They’ll just be even harder to wash later then, idiot.”

“I’m sure I can persuade you.” You raised your brow at him.

Mat’s signature crooked smirk appeared on his face as he let the hand on your waist drift to squeeze your ass. You let out a squeak of surprise, not used to being with someone this forward. His eyes crinkled at your shocked expression, and he leaned down to press his lips to yours. Your arms slid up Mat’s toned arms, going to rest along his shoulders. Both of his hands were now placed on your ass, and you could feel him harden against your stomach.

You moaned into his mouth, and Mat slipped his tongue into your mouth. You weren’t sure if you would ever get tired of kissing him; he was a phenomenal kisser. You could see why they paid him the big bucks to play hockey if he was half as good at skating as he was kissing.

He broke the kiss shortly after you trailed one hand down the expanse of his chest.

“Wanna take this to the bedroom? I’ve been wanting to get you out of this skirt since you walked through the door,” Mat grunted against your lips, stopping your hand before it could reach his belt.

You nodded your head vigorously (and it probably looked a little psychotic), eyes wide with lust. He took your hand in his and led you down the hallway, the dirty dishes long forgotten. Mat closed his bedroom door behind you, pressing you against it and reconnecting your lips.

His hands came up to hold your waist under your sweater, pulling his face away to move down your neck. Your head fell back to knock against the door and your lips parted in a quiet moan as Mat sucked a mark on your throat.

You took the opportunity to take in his room, and your gaze fell to the candles that were lit on his dresser.

“Did you get candles for this?” You asked breathlessly, arching your body into his. Mat pulled away for a moment, following your gaze to the candle.

“Yeah…” he said sheepishly, “I didn’t really know what to get. I wanted it to be at least a little special.”

“That’s sweet,” you said, running your hands through his hair, “It’s a good thing I also got you something too, then.” You stepped away to give him, what you hoped was, a seductive look.

“I really hope this isn’t some kind of joke about your virginity because if it is, I won’t laugh,” Mat said.

“No, you ass,” you laughed, punching him lightly in the arm, “I was trying to insinuate I was wearing something underneath.”

“Oh? Does that mean I can take this off?” He asked, both brows raised in curiosity as he tugged at the hem of your sweater.

“If you don’t, I will,” you teased.

After your confirmation, Mat pulled your top off easily and casted it to the side as he took in your appearance. His hands came up to trace the lacy designs along the cup, gently squeezing your clothed breast.

“Holy shit,” he said in awe, “I don’t mean to sound like a perv, but your tits are amazing.”

“Thank you. I always thought they were my best quality,” you joked.

Mat could hear the playful lilt of your tone, but he was still disagreeing in his mind. Your tits were amazing, but they were not your best quality. Maybe second best, but the sound of your laugh erupted in his mind when he thought about what he liked most about you; first he thought about your laugh, then your eyes, and then his mind eventually snapped back to reality where your nearly perfect tits were in front of him.

“Are you just going to stand there or are you going to take off my skirt?” You asked him, pulling him from his trance. Mat nodded his head eagerly, like a dog being thrown a bone. He dropped his hands to your waist, wasting no time to rid you of the skirt and throwing it to join your top.

“Jesus,” he breathed out when he saw the strappy garters, “Get on the bed now.”

You threw him a saucy smirk, sauntering over to the bed before sitting on the edge.

“Do I get to touch you this time?” You asked when he came to stand in front of you.

Mat brought his hand up to grab your hair, pulling it slightly so your head was tilted up to look up at him. He gave you a searing look before saying “Go ahead.”

You used your hands to brush against his abdomen underneath his shirt, raising it as far as you could from your seated position. He took the hint, pulling back to shrug it off quickly. Your hands stayed on his chest, sliding down until you met the buckle of his belt. You quirked an eyebrow, “This too?”

Mat answered your question for you, using his own hands to move them aside while he unbuckled his pants and shimmied them off. Your eyes followed his hands, noticing the way his boxer briefs bulged. Widening your eyes, partly in shock and the other part in disbelief that you were in this situation, your mouth fell open slightly as you tried to think of something to say.

Thankfully, you didn’t have to say anything because Mat was already pulling your head back and leaning down to kiss you again. He pushed you back against the bed, his hands reaching down to grab your thighs. His knees hit the bed, and he lifted your body up slightly so he could shuffled you back further. Your hands went back tug at the hair on the back of his head, and Mat groaned loudly into your mouth. You jotted this note down mentally, planning to use this to your advantage in the future.

He slid his arm underneath your back and you arched up into him. You could feel the hard press of him against your thigh, and you lifted your leg to wrap around his waist. You tried your best to thrust your hips against him, searching for any kind of friction.

Mat’s hand quickly unclasped your bra, and you pulled your arms down so you could slip it off.

“Fuck, baby,” he cursed, glancing down to your exposed breasts.

His head ducked down to nip at your neck, lips sucking along your collarbone. Mat lifted his hand to squeeze your breast, using his fingers to twist your nipple. He moaned against your skin at the gasp that fell from your mouth. Lowering his head even further, he closed his lips over your other nipple, desperate to pull more sounds from you. He was rewarded when you let out a pitched whine as he lightly bit at your breast.

Feeling yourself grow wetter at his ministrations, you pulled him back up to your lips by his hair, already missing the way he kissed you. You snaked one hand between your bodies, palming him over his boxers. Mat let out a distressed groan, thrusting his hips into your hand. You squeeze his length over the fabric which caused Mat to pull back swiftly.

“I know I said you could touch,” he panted, “but I genuinely think I’ll explode if you do.”

You chuckled at his breathless state but removed your hand from him anyway. He shimmied further down your body instead, taking a moment to unsnap the garters from your tights. Sliding off your panties, he took the tights off with them before resuming his spot between your legs.

“Don’t tease, Mat,” you said with a gasp. As much as you wanted his tongue on you, you were nearing the verge already.

“Fine, but I’m going down on you later tonight then,” he said, looking at your pussy with a longing look. He brought his fingers to run between your folds, gathering at the wetness building up. You could feel how soaked you were, but the obscene sounds you heard as he slipped a finger inside of you only confirmed that. Entering a second one, he slowly thrust his fingers in and out, curling to hit your g-spot.

“I said no teasing,” you whined loudly, tugging harshly at his hair. Mat chuckled darkly, removing his fingers from you despite your protest. He leaned back, stepping off the bed quickly to take off his boxers.

Now, you hadn’t expected him to be small, but being faced with his dick in person, you began wondering if you should’ve started with someone more… average. Your jaw dropped slightly, and Mat laughed at your reaction. He was already climbing back over you, condom in hand, before you could say anything.

“You’re sure you still want this?” He double checked, ripping open the foil packet. You nodded to answer his question, mouth still agape as you watched him roll the condom onto his hard length.

“If you’re not in me within the next minute, I’m going to combust,” you said.

“You flatter me, Y/N,” he replied, hooking a leg over his waist, “Stop me if anything hurts, okay?”

Mat waited for your nod, looking into your eyes for any sense of hesitation, but you couldn’t be more sure about wanting this.

He lined himself up with your entrance, slowly pushing inside of you. You felt yourself stretch open as he pressed into you, the feeling unfamiliar and awkward but not at all unpleasant.

Mat paused his movements when he heard a particular strangled noise leave your throat.

“Everything good?” He asked, checking in on you.

“Yeah, all good. Just give me a second,” you whispered, giving yourself a few moments to adjust to the new sensation. Mat stayed still as he waited for your indication to continue, bending his head to pull you back into a heated kiss.

Relaxing under his touch, you moaned into his mouth, mumbling a quiet “keep going” against his lips. Mat resumed his movements, pushing further into you at an agonizingly slow pace until you felt him bottom out.

“Holy fuck, you’re so ti— nope not going to think about how tight you are,” he said, grunting lowly into your neck. It was taking everything in him to not pull out and just thrust back into you, but he remained as still as he could until you gave him permission.

“Please move, Mat,” you groaned out, finally feeling yourself stretch to accommodate him with more ease.

He pulled out almost all the way before thrusting back in at a gentle maneuver, your head falling back in pleasure. Mat took your resounding moans as signs of encouragement, and he crashed his lips against yours in another kiss. He rocked in and out of you, slowly increasing his speed the louder your moans got.

You tangled a hand in his hair, needing something to grip to relieve the tension you felt building inside of you.

It didn’t take long for the discomfort to turn into backbending pleasure. Soon you were arching yourself as much as you could into him, trying to gather as much friction as possible. Your breasts rubbed against his chest, and he was clutching at your back to keep you close.

“I’m close,” you said into his ear, one arm extending over his shoulder to dig your fingernails into his back.

Mat’s hand slipped between you, reaching to press his thumb against your clit. He drew out tight circles against it, and you felt yourself teeter on the edge of orgasm.

“Come on, baby,” he said into your neck, and you squeezed around him in response. He pressed harder into your clit, biting at the skin of your neck before soothing it over with a kiss.

You clenched around him even tighter, and let your eyes flutter close as you came.

Mat’s hand gripped hard on your thigh, and you were sure you were going to feel the outlines of his fingertips pressed into your skin for weeks to come. His rhythm grew more erratic as his breathing stuttered, and soon you felt him still altogether as he released inside of you.

Your breathing slowed down a few seconds after Mat finished, his breaths quickly calming until they were in sync with yours. You whined slightly when he pulled out of you before flopping onto his back. You slowly came back to earth, the pulse between your legs diminishing with each passing minute. Mat leaned over the side to dispose of the condom and then turned onto his side to gaze at you.

You glanced over to see his cocky smile and you couldn’t help but burst into laughter.

“Women don’t usually laugh after having sex with me,” he said in mock offense, but the smile remained on his face.

“I’m laughing because I’m happy. I finally did it. I’m no longer a virgin,” you said happily, flipping over to rest your head on your hand, matching his pose.

“We better alert the media,” he joked.

“‘Breaking News: This just in, local college student finally pops her cherry,’” you exclaimed in your best reporter voice, and he laughed heartily.

He had such a contagious laugh. It was the most absurd, yet fun, laugh you’d ever heard. It was impossible to not laugh when he did, which is why you were both laughing hysterically now.

“But really, Mat, thank you,” you said seriously once the laughter began to die down. He nodded his head in agreement, his smile falling until you could only see the playfulness within his eyes.

“Round two in the shower?” You asked hopefully after a couple seconds.

“Already? We just finished,” he teased, bringing a hand to brush your hair behind your ear.

“Are you saying you’re tired already? What about that professional athlete stamina?” you wondered with a raised brow.

“You joke about it now, but you’ll be regretting that soon,” he said, lightly flicking your nose, “Get in the shower, I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

You got up eagerly, scampering off to the bathroom in excitement for going another round. Mat glanced over his shoulder, watching you disappear into the bathroom.

It was when he heard the water turn on and the shower door close that he let his face fall completely.

Your second date was over.

Second lesson, he corrected himself. He was nothing but a fluffer for you, and that hurt him more than he cared to admit right now.

His chest tightened at the thought of your time together slowly coming to an end. He wanted to keep seeing you. You were lively, smart, funny, and hot. He had yet to meet a box you didn’t tick for him, and that scared him a lot.

Mat wasn’t the type to catch feelings this quickly, especially for someone he knew he couldn’t have; it’s not like you being his captain’s sister was completely lost on him. God knew he'd been on the receiving end of caught feelings plenty times, and he hated being the bad guy in those situations.

But despite that, he found himself enjoying your time together more than he probably should’ve.

Also, there was the fact that you were probably one of the sexiest women he’d ever slept with and looked like a goddess when you came.

Really, when it came down to it, Mat was left with no other option.

He had to stall your next “lesson” for as long as possible. As long as he needed to convince you he wanted more than just sex.

[obsidianfr3sk]

true colors

@renegadesnet event 10: pride

↪ [ “But everything was temporary. And pain was one of those things. Well, except love. Everything but love was temporary. Or that was what he liked to believe.” ]

Summary: Two years after the supernova, after Tamaya notified them the gearboxes that contained the lights had gotten soaked and that she needed the money to buy more before the next day (June 1st), Simon realized they were not enough for him anymore. 

Simon wanted a bigger flag. 

No. He wanted two. The biggest pride flags he could find.

AO3

Hello, friends!! I hope you’ve been having an excellent pride month and have been eating a lot rainbow cake and pissing off a lot of conservatives with the mere fact of your wonderful existence:’) As my contribution to this month and the event organized by @renegadesnet, I decided to write a fic focused on my favorite gay dads and their sons (bc I’m me, and you should have seen this coming.) 

Before you read, I want to give a trigger warning: at the start of a fic I talk about a homophobic attack, which is not graphic or violent per se (it’s someone in the middle of the night taking away the flag they put outiside the house), and I do discuss about internalized homophobia during some parts of the story. If you read it and are sensitive to this kind of stuff, proceed with caution and take care of yourself <3

Also, this entry is a collaboration with my talented mother @healing-winston-pratt, who is going to be uploading some fanart of this in a near future, so keep an eye on that👀 she’s the best skjhkjds thank you for accepting to collaborate, I feel this is a great bonding activity and I hope we can do this more often✨

I need to update my tag list because a lot of the people who were included are not active as active as they were before/changed their URLs. But I’m going to tag @the-wee-woo-rita @lackadae @all-weather-is-bad @chiyuki-hiro bc you guys are the only ones who are still active users who I had on my previous tag list lol

With that said, I hope you enjoy this fic. I think that despite the angsty parts, it came out really fluffy and domestic, it was fun to write. And to all my queer silbings who are reading this: I am very proud of you.  

But I see your true colors shining through.

I see your true colors, and that's why I love you.

So don't be afraid to let them show.

Your true colors,

true colors are beautiful like a rainbow

Simon couldn’t remember a time when he didn’t know he was gay.

There was a time when he didn’t know he was gay, of course. He was probably too young to even comprehend the meaning behind that word. And there was also a moment in his life when he felt embarrassed about it, and sad, and angry, and really, really scared, and probably thought that no matter how hard he tried, he was never going to be happy living the life he wanted to live.

That the pain was never going to end. That he was going to be miserable for the rest of his existence, and that maybe, there was no point in existing if he was going to stay like that until the day he died.

But everything was temporary. And pain was one of those things.

Well, except love. Everything but love was temporary. Or that was what he liked to believe.

That was the reason why, the first year after the Day of Triumph, he told Hugh they should get a rainbow flag for their house. They went to one of the first stores that opened at the mall (that had just been remodeled after twenty years of being abandoned) and bought one at a not so affordable price. Simon offered himself to install it on one of the fence pillars and had to spend thirty minutes listening to Hugh telling him that maybe he should let him do it, that the ladder Kasumi had lent them was ratty, and that Simon was going to fall.

Fortunately, Simon didn’t. He did almost fall, though, when he was about to pass out from stress because seeing Hugh getting all anxious, made Adrian cry and he started to basically beg him to come down, given that now he was convinced he was going to fall, and hearing his dad saying “Look what you’ve done to the kid, Simon” didn’t help at all to make Adrian (or Simon) feel better.

That night, there was a thunderstorm and Adrian used it as an excuse to sleep on their bed. As soon as he cried himself to sleep, two hours later, after their dads did everything in their power to calm him down, hugging him, giving him kisses, and assuring him his aunt Tamaya wasn’t going to let the storm hurt them, Simon raised his hand to high-five Hugh and tell him that they were amazing parents, just to realize he was already asleep. Simon silently judged him for sleeping so soundly while his son was having a crisis instead of sleeping.

When he woke up (at five in the morning) Adrian was looking out their window, with the Baby Indomitable blanket on his shoulders. The sky was still cloudy, but it wasn’t raining anymore.

“Darling, what are you doing?,” Simon told him. “Today’s Sunday. Let your daddy and I get some more sleep—”

“The storm took our flag,” Adrian blurred out.

Hugh was already awake too. “What?”

“You said the storm wasn’t going to hurt us,” Adrian said, turning around to see them, “but the storm took our flag.”

Simon got out of bed, looked through the window...

And, yes, the flag was completely gone.

But for some reason, Simon knew it hadn’t been the storm.

“Why would the storm do something like this?” Adrian asked.

Simon didn’t know how to answer that. Luckily, Hugh did.

“Because the storm is homophobic, son.”

Adrian laughed out loud and then asked his dads if they could have pancakes for breakfast. He had already forgotten about the storm and the flag.

They didn’t. Neither of them ever forgot about it.

While Simon and Adrian ate their pancakes, Hugh went to his office because, according to him, he needed to check something. When Adrian finished his breakfast and went back to his dads’ room to watch TV, Simon stayed in the kitchen, doing the dishes, and Hugh finally came downstairs. He was pretty quiet, and Simon thought that it probably was because he had told him to eat the burnt pancakes he didn’t dare to throw away, but after he finished them all, he said:

“I lied.”

Simon threw a glance at him. “When did you lie?”

“When I said the storm was homophobic,” Hugh answered.

“Well, of course, you lied, love. Storms don’t have strong political opinions about gay people.”

Hugh didn’t laugh. “What I mean is— that it wasn’t the storm.”

Every joke Simon’s brain could come up with disappeared at that moment. So he continued doing the dishes, and Hugh, thinking he hadn’t made himself clear, continued talking.

“It was someone else. It was a person. I saw them on—”

“I know,” Simon interrupted him. “I know. I’ve always known.”

But even if Simon knew, he still told Hugh to show him the footage because four eyes were better than two (especially considering that the owner of those first two eyes needed to wear glasses). It was all useless, though; the storm made the image all blurry, and the only thing they could see was someone taking it and running away in the middle of the night.

Simon wanted to think that it was just some dumb teen whose friends had  challenged him to do it. But when it came to things like those one never really knew.

On Monday, they had promised Adrian to take him to the park that was a few blocks away so they could teach him how to fly a kite, but the thought of going out made him feel as if something bad was going to happen to them if they did, so Simon told Adrian that he and Hugh were feeling sick and that they would stay in their room to get some rest. Adrian asked them if they minded that he stayed there too because he was in the middle of watching a movie he had never seen before.

“Only if we can watch it with you,” Simon answered.

It was a weird day to be alive. They really just stayed there, watching silly cartoons with their kid and listening to him ranting about the weird proportions those characters had.

During the afternoon, Adrian told them he was hungry, so Simon went downstairs to look for something they could eat. He was thinking that maybe they should order something from that Chinese restaurant Tamaya had taken him the other day, when Hugh entered the kitchen and told him Adrian had  asked him if he could bring him water.

Simon felt his hands were trembling while he looked inside his wallet for the paper where he had written the restaurant’s phone number.

“Do you want to get another flag?” Hugh asked him.

And something hurt.

Something hurt inside of him. Something started to cry, and to scream, and to flicker, trying to make him invisible to the world.

And it told him, the same way Adrian had told him he was hungry, that someone had taken him by surprise and made a deep cut on his chest.

But Simon didn’t allow it to come out.

He just said: “No.”

And Hugh answered him: “Me neither.”

He called the Chinese restaurant to order some food, while Simon went to their room with Adrian again and cuddled with him, trying to tend to the wounds of that something that was bleeding out inside of him.

Little Simon was crying, and screaming, and flickering, and needed adult Simon to take care of him.

The next day, they talked about the incident with the rest of the Council during their lunch break. It was one of those few occasions the six of them were together in the same room during their work hours. Tamaya was furious about the flag situation. She ranted for a good five minutes without anyone interrupting her about how fucking horrible people were and that she was going to find that little piece of shit and cut his hands off. Kasumi nodded in approval while drinking some horchata she had bought for herself, probably thinking about how to ask Tamaya to let her join her revolution (something she didn’t need to do, since Tamaya always included Kasumi in everything she did). Evander, on the other hand, was very quiet, something that made him feel a little bit relieved because he was not a sensitive person and Simon didn’t want him to... Evander  the situation.

He didn’t say anything insensitive that day, though.

In fact, he said something… helpful, even.

“What about a flag made of light?” 

Hugh rubbed his eyes and Simon knew what he was going to say before he opened his mouth.

Because he said that phrase constantly.

“Shut the fuck up, Evander.”

But Evander didn’t shut up. “Dude, think about it. No one would be able to take down a flag made of light.”

And everyone realized that, now, it was not only one of those strange occasions when the six of them got together to have lunch during their work hours; it was also one of those strange occasions when Evander had an idea that was actually good.

So after spending another hour discussing how they were going to make it work, they decided they were going to lit up the building in rainbow-colored lights.

Tamaya and Hugh were the ones in charge of almost all the operation because Evander said he had already given them the idea, so he didn’t need to do anything else (and then got mad at Hugh when he told the media he was the one who came up with it). Kasumi helped them, but was especially insistent about putting a trans pride flag somewhere in the building, and after they agreed with her, she personally hung it on the main entrance of Headquarters.

They started turning the lights on each night of June since that yeat.

Hugh and Simon still didn’t get a flag. Three nights after they told their friends about what had happened during the thunderstorm, Simon was woken up by the sound of someone crashing against the trash cans and almost jumped out of the window with his dagger  on hand to slay whoever was trying to break into their house, but when he peeked out to see what was going on, he realized the “robber” was Kasumi, who had put a bunch of small pride flags on some pots they kept on their porch and started crying as soon as she realized Simon was watching her, not because she was upset the surprise she had for them had been ruined, but because now she was covered in trash.

(That week was like a sign Georgie was sending them from the afterlife to tell them they needed to install a better security system.)

Those were the only flags they kept around the house. They were small and discreet, and, most importantly, no one had taken them away. Why? Well— because they listened to Georgie’s sign and installed a better security system. Not because there weren’t any more homophobes out there who were willing to do it.

Until that moment, those flags (the little ones Kasumi had given them in a rather unconventional way and the one made of light that Evander had come up with) had been more than enough for them. But, two years after the supernova, after Tamaya notified them the gearboxes that contained the lights had gotten soaked and that she needed the money to buy more before the next day (June 1st), Simon realized they were not enough for him anymore.

Simon wanted a bigger flag.

No. He wanted two.

The biggest pride flags he could find.

 ***

That was the reason why, after having pancakes for breakfast (because it had rained during the night), he took the car, took the other three people living in that house with him, and after he was able to read the map, they arrived at a store that, among other things, sold flags like the ones they were looking for.

“I want one too,” Adrian told them when they were at the flag section of the store. “For my room, you know. And I want to get ones for Danna and Nova because I don’t think they have any. They would’ve told me.”

Usually, when Adrian asked for something Simon hadn’t agreed to buy him, like some candy, an action figure, or a pair of sneakers, he would turn around and ask him if he had the money to buy any of those things himself, which would anger him so much he would stop wanting that certain thing.

But that day, he felt like buying them everything they wanted. As if money grew on trees (something he always told his kids didn’t happen.)

“Of course, darling,” he answered, “get them everything you want. It’s pride month.”

“It’s May 31th,” Max said. He was inside the shopping cart Hugh had grabbed the second they entered. It was something he always did, even if they weren’t going to buy a lot of things because, according to him, it felt weird and wrong not to.

“It’s almost pride month,” he corrected himself.

“So can I get something for Nova?” Adrian asked again, just to make sure.

“You can get something for Nova,” Hugh assured him, smiling a little bit.

Adrian quickly turned around and started looking for the flag he wanted while texting Nova about something Simon couldn’t read (not like he was trying to, anyway).

After making sure Adrian stayed on the same aisle as them, they started walking around, gazing at the flags and posters available. Simon felt pretty progressive because he was able to name every single sexuality and gender they were supposed to represent. He imagined Hugh was doing the same thing, but with a lot more difficulty than him. He kept his eyes fixated on each flag longer than Simon did, as if he were trying to remember what they meant, and when he did, he pushed the cart (with Max still inside of it, playing a game on Hugh’s phone because he had forgotten his tablet at home), and the cycle began again.

But suddenly, Simon saw ones that he didn’t recognize.

After three seconds of standing in front of those little flags, someone hit him in the butt with their cart. He turned around immediately, ready to say a really threatening “Hey” to whoever had done it.

Hugh was the only other person who was there. He had been the one who had hit him with the cart.

Suddenly, Simon felt a little bit stupid for thinking someone else had done it.

The two of them maintained eye contact for a couple of seconds until Hugh started looking at his own hands grabbing the cart’s handle.

“Simon.” Before Simon could ask him what happened, he added, with a deep voice: “Move.”

Simon didn’t move. Instead, he hit the cart with his hips, just out of spite. Hugh hit him again with it, making Simon feel the unexpected need to grab the cart with his two hands and use his own weapon against him, but Max was there and they couldn’t act like kids in front of him. So he just hit the cart with his hips again, a little bit harder than the first time, and left it there.

He realized he was just going to be wasting his time asking Hugh if he knew what that flag was supposed to represent.

“Cherub,” he called Max. “Do you recognize this flag?”

Max looked up from the screen. He usually didn’t like it when he called him “cherub” in public, but this time, he didn’t seem mad about it. “Um… no? Ask Adrian—” and continued playing.

Adrian came back with a basket full of pins, and for a second, Simon almost asked him if he really was that naive to believe he was actually going to pay for all of them. But then, he realized that it was only the basket where they kept all of the pins they sold and that Adrian had taken it to show them to them.

“Look, they have so many pins here—” he started taking random pins “—this is the aromantic flag… this is the genderfluid flag—”

“Interesting,” Hugh interrupted him, “but which flag is that one?” and pointed at the one Simon didn’t recognize.

Max took a random pin from the basket and started looking at it with curiosity. Adrian almost didn’t pay attention to it, and after a few seconds, he said: “That one’s yours.”

Simon frowned and took one. It was a handheld flag with green and blue stripes, with a white one in the middle. He touched the polyester with his fingertips as if that was going to give him the ability to communicate with it.

“But we don’t have a flag,” Hugh told Adrian. “I’ve heard of the lesbian fl—”

Adrian took a pin of the lesbian flag. “This one.”

“Yeah— but gay men don’t have one.”

“The rainbow is ours,” Simon said, without taking his eyes away from the blue and green flag he was holding. “Like, it’s for all queer people.”

Hugh directed his attention to Adrian again. “You’re messing with us.”

“I do mess with you a lot,” Adrian admitted, “but this time I’m not because if I do and you get mad, you won’t buy me all the stuff I want to get.”

“Huh.”

Simon knew Adrian and Max were a lot of things, but "dumb" wasn't one of those. And Adrian was especially intelligent when it came to convincing his parents to buy him things.

So he decided to believe him.

“Well, I like it,” he said. Then, he asked Hugh: “Do you like it?”

Hugh grabbed one and observed it for a while. “I like that it has blue on it,” he finally answered, nodding a little bit.

Simon noticed Max was spacing out while playing with the pin he had taken, so he waved the flag on his face, making him laugh and sneeze because the damn thing had a lot of invisible dust Simon didn't notice at first.

“Oh, sh—”

“You know? Maybe we should get two of these,” Hugh said, waving it too, but in his case, not on the face of one of their kids. “For our offices.”

“Matching flags, very romantic.”

Max rubbed his nose. “Why don't you get a big one for the house?”

Simon quickly started to look everywhere on that aisle, and he saw a lot of big versions of the flags he had recognized before (and some of the ones Adrian had mentioned), but there were no gay flags in sight.

“Maybe next year, I guess,” he shrugged. “I don't think they have them here yet.”

He grabbed two of the rainbow flags that were there, inside their respective plastic bags, gave them to Max, and he put them on his lap, still holding that pin. Simon made a quick mental note to remind his future self they needed to pay for that (he didn’t know if it had to with the fact that Max had been spending a lot of time with Maggie, Nova’s sister, but he had developed this weird habit of stealing the most random objects one could think of. Luckily, he limited himself to stealing things from his dads and, one time, from a store.) (Kids went through weird phases when they were Max’s age.)

(Because… it was a phase, right?)

Adrian received a text. “Danna says that she already has a flag, so I’m getting her a pin,” he said after reading it. “And Nova says she wants one too.” Then, his whole face lit up. “And I could get one too so we match.”

“Copycat,” Simon accused him, jokingly. “Your dad and I got matching flags, and now you want to get matching pins with your girlfriend.”

Hugh shook his head, disappointed. “I cannot believe you have betrayed your own family like this.”

They stayed at the store another 30 minutes to buy some other things they needed for the house, and from time to time, when he or Hugh grabbed something, they pretended they didn’t see Adrian and said: “Um, but the copycat may be listening” to a point he told them to stop, and refused to forgive them until they agreed to buy him the flag he didn’t intend to get anymore, but now was going to.

He got the last bisexual flag there was at that store.

 ***

The first time the four of them were together in their room was last June. Something went wrong with the A/C system of the entire house and the only room where one could stay without having a heatstroke was theirs because their A/C hadn’t broken down for some reason. Adrian and Max were sleeping on the air mattress until Simon (who hadn’t been able to sleep lately) heard that one of them woke up and asked Hugh something. He sat down on the bed, at the same time Hugh moved a little bit to allow Adrian to lay down between the two of them.

Then, in the middle of the dark, his eyes met Max’s.

He looked tiny. Young. Pretty young.

And far away.

Simon couldn’t remember who did it. He didn’t remember who talked that night. It could have been him, even. But he was sure that, at that moment, someone whispered:

“Get in here, kid.”

And Max obeyed. He crawled, raised his arms towards them, and Hugh grabbed him carefully by the collar of his shirt and placed him between him and Adrian.

It was a peaceful night. The bed was big enough for the four of them, and Simon was able to sleep and actually rest for the first time in weeks.

At least until their A/C turned off with a weird sound, and the four of them woke up at the same time, sweaty, uncomfortable, and almost at 11 AM, not because they weren’t necessarily willing to stay there longer, but because the heat was starting to get unbearable and suddenly the bed was too small for three adults and a little kid that was not that little anymore.

“This isn’t a room, this is a— a freaking oven,” Hugh said, while Adrian tried to push him out of bed to get the hell out of there and seek comfort on the air mattress he had abandoned in the middle of the night.

“And we are the... cookies,” Max giggled.

“The turkey,” Simon added.

Max turned around. His whole face was red and his hair was a little bit wet. “The lasagna.”

Simon grabbed him by the cheeks; a discreet way to check if he had a fever. “The cake.”

“The ham.”

“The—”

“Dad. Move.”

Later that day, Simon called someone to fix the A/C, and that was the end of the story.

When they arrived at the house, Adrian wanted to hang his flag as soon as possible, on one of his room’s walls, but Simon insisted that they should iron it first so it looked nicer. Hugh said that he was planning on ironing the ones they had bought for the house and offered Adrian to do the same with his, but when he insinuated that he didn’t trust him enough not to mess up his flag the same way he had messed up his favorite shirt (the one he wanted to wear to take Nova to a nice place during her birthday), Hugh reminded him that the only reason he kept doing that for him was that Adrian didn’t know how to iron yet, and decided that he was going to use that moment as a teaching opportunity. Max made the mistake of laughing at his brother when he thought no one was paying attention to him, but Adrian was and dragged Max into the teaching opportunity with him.

Simon joined too. Just because.

And suddenly, the four of them were in their room again.

With the A/C on, of course.

He didn't know if Hugh had noticed, but he had been so invested in his own explanation, that after he finished ironing the two rainbow flags, he started ironing Adrian’s without realizing it. Adrian, instead of giving up and stop pretending he was paying attention, was looking, kind of mesmerized, how he opened the bag of his blue, purple, and magenta flag, and proceeded to put it on the ironing board, now telling him that when Georgie had tried to teach him how to iron his clothes, she accidentally burnt Evander.

Simon was half-listening to the story, half-listening to the music video that Max was watching on the TV. He was sitting on a big and old ottoman they had bought a long time ago but had never found the perfect place to put it and just stayed there for years until they forgot about it. Max was in front of him, sitting on the floor and resting his back on the ottoman, while he covered his blond hair with small butterfly hair clips he had found at the store and bought just because he thought they were cute (who knows, maybe Nova wanted them for Maggie, or Kasumi could use them for herself, she loved them when she was little).

When all the hair clips were on Max's hair, he took a small mirror they kept in the bathroom (but Simon borrowed it for a minute) and gave it to him so he could see the final result.

“Look at me,” Max exclaimed, laughing. “I look so pretty.”

Simon grabbed one of the hair clips and pulled it a little. “Butterfly hair clips are a popular trend this time of the year.”

“This is definitely going to make me the most popular kid in the playground.”

“Definitely.”

He leaned forward to start taking the butterfly hair clips off Max's hair and was putting them on Max’s open hand when he noticed that he hadn’t let go of the pin they bought him at the store.

(Simon did remember to pay for the thing, but if he hadn’t done it, Max wouldn’t have said anything.)

“That was really nice of you,” Simon said.

Max looked at him, confused. “What?”

“Getting a rainbow pin—” he took his other hand and started putting the hair clips on it so none of them would get lost “—to show support.”

Max didn't say anything and Simon continued with what he was doing. After the music video finished, and another one started playing, Hugh gave Adrian his flag and told him he could go and hang it in his room, and as soon as Max heard that too, he gave Simon the hair clips and followed his brother out of the room, asking him if he could help him with it.

Simon, after realizing the bag where the hair clips came in had been destroyed by Max punching holes in it with the pin, took one of the empty pill bottles he kept in his drawers and put them there.

He closed the pill bottle and realized Hugh had been gazing at him during all this time, slightly leaning on the ironing board. “What?”

“That’s my pill bottle, Si,” he told him.

“Ah—” Simon pressed his lips “—can I have it?”

“No.” Hugh smiled at him. “Yes, you can.”

“So funny. Come here—” and patted the bed mattress.

Hugh, being extremely careful not to touch the flags he just ironed, lied on the bed and sighed.

“Do you want me to play with your hair?” Simon asked him with a soft voice.

He closed his eyes and nodded.

After a while of the two of them just being silent, he said, “Hey… I heard what you told Max, by the way.”

“The butterfly hair clips trend?”

“The pin thing.”

“What about it?”

Hugh opened his eyes, just a little bit. “Just don't tell Max I told you, all right? Because he told me he wouldn't tell anyone else until he was sure, but… I think it's important the two of us know,” he explained.

Simon was starting to feel his palms get a little bit sweaty. “Okay— but just tell me, please.”

He checked overhearing their conversation one last time, and that the kids were still at Adrian's room. “Max told me a couple of days ago that he has been thinking about… what he likes.”

He stopped playing with his hair for a second. But then, he continued.

It was his way of coping with the feeling of his stomach twisting inside of him. “What he likes?” Hugh nodded again. “Huh. And has he— does he has an idea or—”

“No, he doesn't,” Hugh answered. “He just knows that he doesn't like girls. Or that's what he told me.”

Simon raised his eyebrows and scoffed. “That sounds like a lot of things. Not liking girls.”

Hugh scoffed too. “That's what I told him. And that he can take all the time he needs to figure it out. Because he can—”

“Yes. Yes, of course, he can,” Simon assured, with determination. “Life is longer than we think it is.”

They stayed silent again. And Simon couldn’t help but feel relive inside his head the moment he called Max an ally, feeling his stomach twisting even more at every second it passed.

“I feel bad.”

“Why?”

His palms started to sweat again. “Because I called him an ally.”

“It’s all right. You didn’t know.”

“I shouldn’t have assumed anything.”

“You didn’t know,” Hugh repeated.

But Simon didn’t listen. “Si.”

Then, Hugh grabbed him carefully by the wrist, and, a little bit surprised, Simon tilted his head. Hugh usually didn't interrupt him when he was playing with his hair.

“What's wrong?” he asked.

“No, what’s wrong with you?” he deadpanned

Simon knew him well enough to know he wasn’t trying to be rude. It was just his way of asking things. Especially when he was genuinely worried and didn’t think about modulating his tone so it It fitted the situation better.

He sighed. Because he didn’t want to lie to him. “I assumed Max was straight.”

As soon as he said it, he realized how silly it had sounded phrased like that. But he also noticed his voice had broken and he had to put a hand on his mouth so he didn’t start crying.

And Hugh, instead of saying the encouraging phrase he expected him to say…

He smiled.

And for some reason, that made him want to cry even more. “Ew, why are you smiling?” he asked.

Hugh took his time to answer him. “Oh, it’s nothing.  I think I'm just… happy.”

“Well, I’m not.”

Hugh smiled more. “I know, love, I know… It's just one of those things…” he tried to find the right words this time. “One of those things I didn't think we were going to go through together,” he kept saying. “Like… we're going to be together when Max finally discovers who he really is. Like we did with Adrian. And like other people did with us. And that makes me happy.”

Simon wanted to tell him to shut up and let him cry and be dramatic as much as he wanted because he considered he deserved it. But he tried to do it, the only thing that could come out of his lips was almost imperceptible “Yeah…” and then, a small tear started running down his face. Hugh quickly noticed this and wiped it away with his finger. Simon scoffed and looked away, rubbing his nose.

“Hey…” and he moved aside so Simon could lay beside him.

The space they had was a little too small but he didn’t mind because now he had an excuse to be closer to him.

And there it was again. Little Simon. Little Simon was there again with them.

Just that this time he wasn’t crying, or screaming, or even flickering. He was just… existing.

And all he wanted to do was to exist.  

When Hugh held him that way, sometimes he felt as if it was the first time he did it. Which made Simon (and the sad, angry and scared part of Simon) wonder if there was a sad, angry and scared part of Hugh that also craved that comfort and validation, and if it was the one who hugged that younger version of Simon until they convinced each other that everything was fine.

That there was nothing wrong with neither of them.

Because sometimes it was as if people didn’t remind them that as many times as they needed. So the only option they had was to be there for the other, and tell him that it was okay to hug, to kiss, to touch, and to share until the one who was talking ended up convincing both of them.

Love wasn’t temporary.

And their love was as powerful as they wanted it to be.

Those younger versions of themselves wanted to stay like that forever every single time. But their adult versions knew they couldn’t do it because they had other responsibilities that they needed to attend.

Installing those two pride flags that were next to them, for example.

Their younger versions were excited to do that, but they also asked them if they could rest together a little bit longer. And neither of them had the heart to tell them no.

Hugh started to play with a lock of Simon’s hair. “We’ll be there to catch him.”

He knew he wasn’t talking about either of them. Even if, with his eyes closed, he could see little Hugh and little Simon holding each other’s hands and throwing themselves into the world, a little less sad, and angry, and scared than before, without being sure if there was going to be someone down there to catch them if everything went wrong.

“Together.”

And Simon agreed. “Together.”

 ***

“He’s going to fall.”

Simon rolled his eyes.

“No, he’s not,” Hugh told Max. “I’m here.”

“But what if—”

“Done,” Simon announced before Max could even finish his sentence. “Now, let’s just hope these things stay there as long as possible, because this ladder makes me anxious. I was trembling while putting the first flag.”

Max clicked his tongue. “It’s a windy day. The wind could have pushed the ladder or something.”

Now it was Hugh’s turn to roll his eyes. “Take my hand.”

Simon went down the ladder without letting go of his hand. Then, while Hugh took it and quickly went inside the garage to put it there, Adrian pricked his little brother up with his own rainbow flag pin, and in response, Max punched him in the stomach with all his might (which wasn’t that much). Adrian laughed and pretended to be hurt, but immediately asked him if he wanted him to help him with his pin.

Simon noticed that Adrian had already put his pin of the bisexual flag on his clothes, and watching him pull Max a little bit closer so he didn’t prink him again (now by accident), while Max gazed at his hands, trying to memorize his movements so he could do the same thing when he wanted to wear that pin again, made his mouth curved into a smile.

When his husband came back from the garage, he thought he was going to tell them to stop blocking the sidewalk and get in the house so they could continue with their day. But instead of doing that, he walked towards them and looked at their waving flags, flying on their mansion for the first time in years.

Adrian grabbed Max by the waist and carried him on his shoulders so he could have a better view. And he realized that there would be a day when they would throw themselves into the world completely alone, without knowing how people were going to act and aware that two of them were brave enough to take whatever blows that they were going to throw at them.

But they weren’t going to do it alone. Because Hugh, Simon, and their hurting parts weren’t going to spend a day without reminding them that they were going to be there, ready to catch them every single time they needed it.

Simon started to look for Hugh’s hand just to realize, Hugh was already looking for his too, and when they found each other, he couldn’t contain himself and stood on his tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek. Then, Hugh smiled and kissed him back, this time, on the corner of his lip.

Simon felt proud of what they were.

He was really proud.

And he hoped they were proud too.

[samwrights]

Baby Fever

I’ve said it once, I’ll say it 600 times. I need Hanamaki Takahiro to put a baby in me. Y’all are going to be so tired of me after this one. Fluff and slight NSFW. @dreamyjaems not totally daddy related, but pretty darn close ;)

Hanamaki;

The first time he notices it is when you’re both out with another pair of couple friends.

They’d been married for six years, while the two of you were entering three years together, and they’d just had their first baby less than a year ago.

Despite never mentioning a future desire for them, Makki watched the way you interacted with that little girl and he knew straight away.

Haha, I’m in danger.

The way your eyes soften when you hold her or the way you’ve created a new, soft persona that only spoke in high pitched gibberish

The way you were constantly buying the baby’s clothes for no reason. At all.

It becomes more apparent when the two of you are out shopping and you somehow end up in the kids clothing section.

Baby vans is where Makki draws the line. Do y’all know expensive baby vans are? I’d draw the line too.

“Sweetie...sweetheart...love of my life...” Makki has a grin on his face, his eyes aren’t open, and he’s holding your guys’ statement for your joint bank account. “Mind telling me why the fuck you spent $138 at the vans store when you didn’t buy any new vans?”

“How do you know that I didn’t?”

“Because you would have shown me them.” His grin drops into an entirely unamused look. “What did you do?”

Sighing in defeat, you walked over to a nearby shoe closet, pulling out three boxes of baby vans in varying colors and sizes. “They were just so cute 🥺”

Makki takes a seat beside you on the couch, hunching over his knees while covering his face with one hand. “I wish you’d just talk to me about this first before you went splurging on a kid we don’t even have yet.”

Yet?? Y E T??

“I was under the impression you didn’t want any.” And that wasn’t necessarily wrong, per se. The two of you were still young, trying to work through college debt, and weren’t as stable as you could be. But Makki was in this for the long haul, and he would be lying if he said he didn’t want you to be the mother of his future children.

“I mean I’m not opposed to the idea of trying.”

“...wanna start trying right now?”

“You son of a bitch, I’m in.”

Iwaizumi;

Iwaizumi was going to tear his hair out if he heard you coo at a baby one more time.

At first, it was fine. Yeah, the baby you spotted while the two of you were in line at Starbucks was cute. Even cuter when the baby waved to you, he wasn’t denying that.

But nearly every chance you got when the two of you were out in public, you’d smack him on the arm when you’d see a baby.

Legit, it was like you had a fucking radar on you.

“Haji, Haji, look! Look at how cute the wittle baby is!”

It was endearing, really, because he’d see the pout form on your lips as you tried to catch the infants attention. But again, that damned radar you had was driving him wild because it seemed to happen everywhere you went.

If there were toddler siblings or, heaven forbid, twins, you absolutely lost your shit. You fawning over one was bad enough but two? Or more? Good god.

Iwaizumi has banished all walks to the park. Walking your dog together? He made a new route away from the nearest children gathering place.

He couldn’t even bring you to McDonald’s anymore because you’d just stare at the fucking play place.

“D-do you really just not want kids, Hajime?” You’d asked him one time after seeing how red he turned with near anger? Maybe anger wasn’t the right word.

“That’s not it...”

???

He groans out of embarrassment cause he really doesn’t wanna admit this out loud. “Every time you talk about kids, I literally just wanna go home and fuck a baby into you.”

“Okay, so what the fuck are we waiting for?”

“College graduation???” Damn him and his logical rationalizations.

“We’re almost done with school—if we start now we’ll have already graduated before the baby’s even born.”

“You’re gonna be the death of me.”

Oikawa;

Oikawa actually entertains your baby fever—which is no help at all.

I see him totally being the dude that indulges watching 16&Pregnant, Teen Mom, etc. with you.

Half the time, you guys make bets over which couple’s going to break up, who loses custody of their child, so on and so forth.

But one thing remains consistent with the two of you—who the cutest babies are.

A constant topic of conversation between the two of you during these times is how idiotic some of the parents were. Have y’all ever seen Unexpected? Diego was the worst, and both of you had a unanimous opinion on that.

Unfortunately for you, these shows really start piquing your curiosity as to how yours and Oikawa’s little one would actually be.

And how the two of you would be as parents. It does upset you a little bit, considering he’s heavily focused on his pro career.

Oikawa notices the lack of desire to watch any of the aforementioned shows, despite that being a typical Friday night thing for the two of you. Friday night (baby) Fever.

“Alright, what’s wrong, love?”

“Nothing? I just feel like we should do something else.”

“Uh, no. I know you’re dying to see what the hell Max was doing while Chloe was giving birth.” 💀💀💀 he’s not wrong.

You gnaw on your lip while you make dinner—as per usual for your Friday nights. You always made something that required a bit more love while Tooru kept you up to date with his career.

“Do you think we would be better parents?”

“Duh,” he responds without skipping a beat. “both of us know how to make a bottle and change diapers.” He adds, referencing to the multitude of times you’d babysat friends’ kids or his newly born niece.

“Tooru, I’m serious.” A dry yet light laugh leaves his lips before he’s standing behind you, wrapping his arms just under your breasts and resting his chin on your head.

“I am too. I’ve just been waiting for you to give me permission.”

Oya? Wait, shit wrong person sorry

Needless to say, y’all don’t need to watch anymore pregnancy shows after this—too occupied with your own journey into parenthood.

Matsukawa;

Oh Mattsun, my clueless bunny.

He probably wouldn’t even notice, tbh, that you literally are in near tears when you see a cute baby.

Cause I imagine his s/o would be one that cries over all the cute things. Puppies? Cry. Kittens? Cry. Otter pups? Double cry.

But he seems to be missing the key theme here—b a b i e s, Issei.

He kinda dense.

You’ve always been good with kids without really trying, he learned, when you started watching your best friend’s five year old son once a week.

The little bean was your best friend, besides his mom and Issei of course. Every Thursday, you got up early so you could welcome the boy, make him breakfast, and hang out with him all day.

At first, it did funny things to Mattsun to see the way you’d glow while making slime or watching your favorite kid’s movies with him.

He learned quickly you could quote the entirety of Hercules and Mulan, and often acted out the singing parts with great theatrics.

When your best friend would come for her son, you’d get a little sad, enough for Mattsun to notice. He’s not that dense.

But dense enough not to notice the way you longingly stare at mothers holding the hands of their toddlers or carrying their babies while the two of you are out grocery shopping.

You’ve never wanted anything more than to have a kid with Issei. Even if he is kinda 💀💀

He’s so good to you, and it kinda hurts your heart the way he brushes off hanging out with you and the kiddo. Like he doesn’t want children period.

So, like any other healthy relationship, you actually decide to sit down and have a talk with him about this. Low key, it kinda scared him cause he thought you were about to dump him. “Do you see yourself having kids in the future?”

“Babe, I physically cannot.”

“I fucking hate you, Issei. I’m being serious.” Despite your words, you try not to laugh. You failed.

“What brought this on?”

“You just never seem to want to hang out with me and the rugrat when he’s over.”

“Not gonna lie, it’s just really hot watching you play mom.”

“You know, I don’t have to play mom.”

“Bedroom. Now.”

[boymeetsweevil]

the most magical place in hell

Grouping: (For Science) Reader x JK

Word Count: ~3.1k

Warnings/Themes: implied sex, 5 is a crowd annoying friends since that’s the vibe these days, d*sn*y please don’t sue

Prompt: “For Science, I miss this couple sm. Any scenario would be fantastic! For inspo, did JK and OC get to go on a vacation, (jk expressed he wanted to in his journal) if so how did that go? Any fun new experiments?”

A/N: This commissioned fic is part of the Changes with Luv project, hosted by FicsWithLuv. Here you can find more information about the project, cause, places to donate, and ways to commission a piece or offer your services if you are a content creator. Thank you!

On the third day of the cruise, Jungkook rolls over in his sleep. His hand reaches for you. His palm meets the bare skin of your shoulder already moving despite how pale the morning light is under his lashes.

“What’s happening,” he mumbles before grabbing more greedily at you. There’s not too much resistance as you let yourself be dragged a few inches across the sheets.

“We have to get up. Breakfast starts in 10 minutes, remember?”

You lean down to press a peck just above his brow bone and he groans. As you pull away, there’s a sweet waft that hits him and lets him know you’ve already showered and gotten ready. Now it’s his turn.

He gives himself just until you gather your things and shut the door to the room. Then he’s pulling himself out of bed with every ounce of energy he has left. He brushes his teeth with his eyes closed, does a perfunctory shower with the lights off like it’ll give him some more sleep. But he’s still dead tired as he throws on an outfit and heads out the door.

The walk to the dining area was exciting 3 days ago. The decadent decor, the view from the high balcony separating his floor from the others, the grand 20’s style atrium with Mickey Mouse memorabilia incorporated throughout. Everything used to be exciting 3 days ago. Sadly, the first day passed and things quickly lost their charm.

As he scoops a smiley-face omelette onto his plate in the buffet line, he searches for your face in the crowd of families scarfing down their first meals of the day so they can take their kids to the waterfall pool on deck 6. By the time he reaches the end of the line, there’s still no sight of you among the tables. So he ventures outdoors where there’s less seating but considerably more sun. He thinks back to his quick routine in the room. Did he remember to put on sunscreen?

When he finds you, you’re stretched out on a beach chair and taking in some of the sun. His mood is partially lifted when he sees just how content you look getting warmed like a lizard on a rock in your tiny bikini. He stands over you deliberately just to see you pout and pull down your sunglasses with a huff.

“Oh, it’s just you.”

“Who’d you think it was?”

“I thought it was Hoseok about to ask me to take his profile pic again.”

Jungkook chuckles a little before sitting in the open seat next to you. “Couldn’t have been him. Too early.” “That’s true.” You sit up then, peering at his plate. “What’d you get us?”

“Us?” His smile is warm. “I thought you’d have eaten by now with the way you left the room.”

“I was looking for an empty spot for us. It was your job to find the actual food.”

“No one else would willingly wake up this early,” he cuts a fraction of the omelette before holding the bite up to you. “But I guess it’s only fair.”

You open your mouth happily.

“Permission to board the S.S. girlfriend?”

“Are you serious?”

“I’m wasting fuel in the port,” he continues to hover the fork just outside your reach, even when you jump forward with a nip.

“Permission to board,” you grumble.

He laughs like you told a great joke and gently feeds you the bite. With soft eyes, he watches you point to different things on the plate and dutifully feeds you your fill. This might be the first time he’s been able to spend a few moments alone with you since the five of you got on the cruise. He finishes up the bit of toast you couldn’t finish and the few blueberries that didn’t interest you. He must be staring because you turn to him in your reclined position and return the favor.

“You’re looking a little red. Did you put on sunscreen?”

“I think I forgot. I was trying to get ready fast so you wouldn’t have to sit around alone.”

“I wasn’t alone,” you reach into the bag you brought for sunscreen. “Yoori was with me. She left for the gym maybe 2 minutes before you came out here.”

“Oh,” is all he says.

Jungkook scowls a bit as you rub the lotion onto his face. That Yoori and Hoseok, and probably even Taehyung, might be spending more time with you on this trip than him is starting to be the horrible icing on this shitty vacation cake.

“Why don’t we take some time to—” He begins but a large shadow looming over the two of you makes him stop in his tracks.

“Hey,” a man with thick blond hair and even thicker muscles nods down at you. “You were at the adult lounge last night, right?”

Jungkook’s mouth drops open. Thor—or the actor who plays him during the Marvel day activities—has come up to your spot. He’s got the Ragnorok breastplate on with board shorts adorning his chiseled lower half. From the top up, he looks just like the real thing.

“Wow. Yeah I was, I’m surprised you remember,” you hold a hand over your eyes so you can look up at “Thor”.

“How could I forget. You and your beautiful friend were quite the sight yesterday.”

“Oh, uh. Thanks.”

In all his excitement, he overlooks the flirting. Jungkook stands up from his seat then and sticks out his hand. “Thor” shakes it hesitantly.

“Hey. I know you’re not the real thing, but it’s great to see you. I wasn’t at the adult lounge last night, so we didn’t get to meet.”

Jungkook makes sure to puff out his chest so “Thor” will notice the print of his button down shirt. Tiny little hammers.

“Do you like the shirt?” He beams. 

“Thor” squints down at the animated hammers.

“I can’t say I really know what’s on it, but sure.” 

“They’re...they’re Mjölnirs.”

“Mole-whats?”

You gasp, clapping your hands over your mouth. 

Jungkook drops “Thor”’s hand at the same moment, disappointment turning down the corners of his mouth.

“Nothing. They’re just drawings. Have a good day, man.”

“Thor” chuckles before looking back down at you. “Cute kid,” he says before sending you a wink and making some comment about getting to rehearsal.

Yoori returns from the gym that moment, nearly running into “Thor”. He gives her an appreciative once over which she returns smugly. Her expression changes as she approaches you and Jungkook looking like you had both seen a car crash.

“What’s up?”

“Nothing,” you respond quickly with a subtle look at the back of Jungkook’s head to tell her ‘not now’.

“Well,” she plops down on the end of Jungkook’s beach chair, “How was breakfast?”

“It was fine,” Jungkook sighs and scoots back so she’ll have some room. “We finished a little while ago. Now we’re just making plans for the rest of the morning.”

“Couple stuff...I’ll go get myself a plate, then.”

You wait until Yoori’s disappeared into the dining area to turn to Jungkook. He doesn’t look angry per se. Just resigned.

“What were you saying before?”

“Hmm,” his eyes are far away, “I was just saying we could take some time to ourselves.”

He wants to say he feels like he’s barely seen you since he stepped on the ship, but he doesn’t want to make you feel bad. The funny thing is that you weren’t even looking forward to the trip before the first day. The tickets for this Marvel cruise were a last minute gamble. You had dropped many not-so-subtle hints about wanting to go somewhere a little less kid-friendly, but he’d waited until the last minute.

At first it seemed like the best possible last choice a person could have. You were all fans of the comics and movies with the exception of Taehyung and Yoori. Taehyung was more of a DC fan and Yoori just sort of let the movies wash over her. You’d been worried that the week would be torture for you with all the screaming kids around. But you were actually having the time of your life. Meanwhile Jungkook was having a less than ideal time.

“Sure. Like what?”

“Maybe we could relax? I’ve had research video meetings the last two nights, so I haven’t really been up for the late night stuff. And I’m just barely up for the morning stuff.”

“Hmm. What about the spa? I haven’t been there yet and it’s on my list.”

“The spa?” Yoori comes out with a mountain of waffles and rumpled-looking Taehyung and Hoseok behind her. “Yeah, let’s go to the spa!”

“Actually, I think Kook just wanted to—”

“I heard it’s actually pretty decent on this boat. They have a hot rock massage where all of the rocks look like the Tinman’s suit.”

“The Tinman,” Jungkook practically chokes.

“I think she means Iron Man,” Hoseok grins sleepily. “Anyway, I’m down for the spa thing too. Never too early to have a tiny lady go in on my thighs.”

“You’re literally so nasty,” Yoori glares back at him.

As your other friends bicker, you flash Jungkook an apologetic look. He shrugs because that’s easier than fighting it. He relishes the second plate of food you get for him and lets you feed him the bites in between kisses and mini-reapplications of sunscreen. It’s all the rest he gets that day. The spa is probably the least relaxing moment of his life.

He doesn’t even get to sit near you. Instead, he gets roped into the men’s section where Hoseok’s tiny lady goes too hard on his thighs and the resulting yelps make Jungkook’s ear drums pound. Taehyung falls asleep two minutes into the Iron Man hot rock massage and snores in a way that’s nearly identical to the 60 year old guests napping nearby.

You emerge from the women’s section with Yoori looking like you’d smell and feel like a rose petal. But Jungkook doesn’t ever find out if you do, because he’s being thrown right back into more “fun”. Somewhere in the back of his mind—between Black Widow meet and greet and the Ant-Man lunch show—he thinks that he would probably be having actual fun if he had some time to breathe. Although, he figures it’s enough to just breathe you in. He feels slightly less drained looking at your smiling face and wide eyes as a wild Hulk appears behind you at the pool after lunch, spraying you lighty with comically huge muscles and a comically tiny water gun.

“You’re not coming?”

Jungkook groans, partly out of guilt and partly out of exhaustion. It’s nearing 10:30 at night and you’re getting ready to go to the adult lounge again. This time it’s for all-things-Spiderman trivia and drinks. He wants to want to go. But he can’t find the strength. He figures too much sun and too much socialization is the answer.

“You’re not staying,” he counters as he does his best to sit up in bed. There’s a nice soft glow bleeding in from the giant picture window of the suite that looks onto the water and there’s some Loki pajamas calling his name. Your tight little dress is calling to him too. I’d look better on the floor, it says.

“I figured this would be a lot more lowkey than everything else we’ve done today. There’s no water and no noisy families. Or screaming Hoseoks.”

“You heard that earlier?”

“I did,” you grimace. “He must have really pissed off that masseuse.”

“I’m pretty sure he just talked with her like he talks normally.”

“Can’t fault her for that, then.”

There’s a beat of silence as you test the security of some strappy heels. Naturally your eyes wander from the shoes to your boyfriend. He’s tapping away at some emails on the ship’s slow wifi no doubt. If you couldn’t tell how tired he was from the slope of his shoulders and the bruise-like shadows under his eyes, the giant yawn he barely stifles is a giveaway.

“Maybe I could just—”

The door to your suite swings open, revealing Taehyung looking frightened in a silky peach button down as Yoori pinches Hoseok’s ear.

“You’re coming, right? Please tell me you’re coming.”

“She’s coming,” Jungkook pipes up from the bed. His eyes never leave the screen of the computer as he types away, but he blinks slow and long. Your heart aches a little.

Taehyung breathes out a sigh of relief and links arms with you. You get one last look at your exhausted boyfriend before you’re pulled out of the room entirely.

“Do you think they’ll even bother asking about the Garfield version?” Taehyung’s question shakes you out of your worry.

“Pfft, no.”

On the fourth day of the cruise, Jungkook is awakened earlier than he wants yet again. A large clap of thunder and the bolt of lightning flash from the other side of the window. He crawls quietly around your sleeping form and throws on his glasses. There’s heavy rain too—a sure sign that the pools and sundecks will be closed. Out of habit, he checks his email and sees a message from the ship coordinator.

Esteemed Guests,

As some of you may know, two performers at last night’s dinner show in House of Mouse theatre (Deck 5, room 6B) showed signs of a stomach bug during the performances. For the safety of the rest of the cast, staff, and guests, we will be postponing today’s shows to sanitize the performance rooms and allow the actors time to recover. Room service will still be available.

We know this is a large inconvenience, and to thank you for understanding, please check your trip accounts for a refund for today’s fares. Additionally...

Jungkook can’t help the fist pump and small hoot he lets out. The email gives him the same feeling he gets on those days when he wakes up hours before his alarm only to discover his professor had cancelled class for the day. With a skip in his step, he returns to bed.

When he wakes up hours later, it’s natural. You’re still spooned to him, still soft and warm and pliant in sleep. He runs the tip of his nose along your neck while the fog of sleep lifts. The smell of your soap and skin is warmed with sleep. The sniffing must tickle you, because you stir before arching against him in a morning stretch. He moves so he doesn’t get in the way of your swinging limbs and smiles to himself. It feels like it’s been forever since he last got to hold you like this without the threat of someone whisking you away.

“Morning,” your voice is gravelly from disuse. “What’s going on. What’s the plan?”

“There’s no plan.”

You’re still half asleep, but you have the social awareness to let your voice go high with incredulity. “No plan?”

“No plan. They sent an email.”

“Read it to me?”

He reads the formal apology while you turn in the covers so you can embrace him while you wake up. By the time he’s done reading, you’ve sat yourself up to look at his phone screen as well.

“Sounds good,” you chirp.

“Really? I would have thought you’d be disappointed about not having a packed day. You’ve been zooming around since we got on board.”

“Yeah, but this was supposed to be our time together. It’s only natural that your friends would tag along.”

“So they’re my friends now?” He raises an eyebrow.

“Only when they’re annoying.”

As if on cue, the front door sounds with knocking. Taehyung is the one who calls out about breakfast plans, but you know all three of them are out there. It’s almost a menacing thought.

“Your friends are here,” he groans. His head falls back onto his pillow defeatedly. They’re likely to burst in any second.

“Don’t worry.”

The sound dies down momentarily when Yoori mentions the extra keycard you gave her for emergencies. Hoseok and Taehyung continue to jiggle the door for sport while chatting idly. Meanwhile, you crawl underneath the sheets and re-emerge on Jungkook’s side of the bed. You look him over, as if searching for something. He’s about to ask what you’re looking for when you reach out and pinch both his cheeks suddenly. While he’s mid-yelp, you swoop in and nip at his lips. It’s quick but it was just harsh enough that his face looks blotchy and his mouth starts to swell.

He whines. “Is this because I called them your friends?”

“Just trust me,” you hiss before your hands disappear further down the sheets to tug off your own underwear and throw it towards the door.

A moment later, the door swings open to reveal Yoori, Hoseok, and Taehyung. Their smiles are bright until they take in the scene. Jungkook’s hair is a mess, his cheeks are flushed, and his mouth looks like it’s been lightly ravaged. Though you’re mostly covered with the sheets, the underwear that is very clearly not on your body and the way the sheets drape over your head as you lay between his knees tell a very convincing lie.

“I think I just caught that stomach bug.” Yoori says lightly, still smiling. Hoseok peers behind her, looking mildly interested.

“I hate it when I remember they have sex with eachother,” Taehyung buries his face in his friend’s shoulder looking mortified as Yoori slowly closes the door.

“Yeah, it’s kind of like walking in on your aunt and uncle doing it. But, like, 12 times worse.”

Jungkook basks in the new silence for a few moments before it’s replaced with the rustle of sheets.

“What are you doing” he trails off to a whisper as you tug the waistband of his underwear down. Your hands still.

“You don’t want to have boat sex?”

“No, no, I do. I wanna have boat sex.”

He nods intensely and you laugh at how earnest he still is. Jungkook’s cheeks flare up, now doubly red from quiet excitement.

“Guess I should have just proposed this, huh?”

“Yeah,” you hum thoughtfully while moving on your knees to straddle his hips. “I can't see how this would have ruined anyone’s fun.”

“I can think of a couple people’s fun we just ruined.”

“I really meant my fun. Speaking of which,” you settle onto his lap and begin to grind.

He shudders, head falling forward with a sigh. This, he thinks, is the real happiest place on earth.

[heuristicallyinclined]

What would Ahmana's bad ending be?

Good question!

So this ended up turning into an outline of what it would be like. I think a route for her would most likely be more of a world building route somewhat like Bronya’s because I’ve always wanted to know more about non cloistered jades.

Here it is!

Wander around an outdoor market and start talking

- Focus your questions on her

- (Bad End 1) You focus your attention on her and ask her about what she's doing there and/or picking up. She answers that she's just picking up some groceries and seems a bit defensive. You see how this might sound more accusatory like the beginning of an interrogation and not a friendship and try to recover by letting her know you’re cool and aren't going to snitch on her or anything. You  try to show how friendly you could be and offer to help her carry her stuff back to the caverns. You even know a shortcut. She gives you a withering look and informs you that she isn't cloistered. She is very put off by the interaction and leaves you to your own devices.

- Tell her more about yourself

- (Proceed to next choice) Opening up about yourself seems to do the trick and she seems interested in your misadventures. The two of you walk together as she grabs a few more things and she tells you about some nice places nearby. She offers to let you tag along with her back to her hive, if you have time. You agree. -> ...

Back at her hive, you get situated. She makes herself and you a drink and you settle in and get comfortable. You look around to see if you can glean anything more about her and realize you haven't actually encountered a jade outside the cloisters who hadn't snuck out. You notice a pile of papers with messy notes next to an laptop and a stack of rainbow drinker novels Curiously, you ask her what she is writing.

She explains that for sweeps now she’s made money on the side by writing rainbow drinker fics and reads others as a way to study the genre. She definitely knows what she's talking about, but the clinical way in which she is describing her hobby is throwing you off. You ask her if she enjoys it and she looks at you strangely for a moment before admitting not really. You try to cheer her up and tell her all creators have their ups and downs and she’ll get her passion for it back eventually, when she gives you a dry grin and says that she was never really into rainbow drinkers. Confused, you ask why she started.

She explains that not all jades get chosen for the cloister. There isn’t one age that one gets chosen per se and that they aren’t particularly forthcoming about the criteria for which a jade is chosen other than them being deemed worthy and it being thought of a huge honor. You ask if she wanted to be chosen for the brooding caverns. She says she doesn’t know. When she was younger, not being chosen started off as a relief, but as she got older and kept being passed over she started wondering if there was something she had done wrong or if she just somehow wasn’t jade enough.

She knows it sounds dumb, but she tried to get into more stereotypically jade things to see if that would do it, rainbow drinker novels being one of them since they’re somewhat of a cultural touchstone. Reading them didn’t really inspire anything in her and she hoped that maybe writing them would. It turned out she was good at it and some people were willing to pay for it. She is able to break them down and understand themes and imagery and whatever the fuck, but knowing more about them didn’t do anything for her lack of interest. As you can see, she is still up here and generally considered past the age that a jade would be chosen since there wouldn’t be enough time to properly train one, so she guesses that it was just her and that there was never really much she could do about it anyways.

It sounds to you like she could use some comfort.

- You tell her about the brooding caverns

- (Bad End 2) She is very surprised to hear you’ve been to the brooding caverns repeatedly and can tell her for a fact that it isn’t as nice as they make it seem in movies. You have other jade friends who are cloistered and it’s kind of a mix bag. Some really seem to enjoy the role, some don’t care, and some dislike it. The ones who dislike it seem to have a very deep-seated resentment towards it actually. A few of them would probably cull for the ability to trade places with her, so she might have gotten lucky in a way. The grass is always gree-, purpler on the other side.

She takes in a deep breath and says she knows that they try to make it more palpable for tv. A place with thousands of eggs being laid and hatched isn’t going to be glamorous. Plus with the lusii everywhere, it seems like it would be a mess of eggshells, cocoons, and droppings. She concedes that she would probably resent losing her freedom and working in the caverns wouldn’t make her any happier, but that still doesn’t really take way from the sting of not being chosen. The grass doesn’t really seem purpler on either side, just bad in a different way. She knows that this is a “her” problem and that she’ll get over it eventually. There is a long pause. She says that she'll see you out.

- (Good End) You relate to the feeling of being out of place

You feel like this is pretty surface level and are getting the feeling that while while is part of it, it isn’t all of it. You say it probably isn’t anything about her being deficient in some way. Or about the brooding caverns actually. She frowns. You tell her about how you’ve been feeling out of place ever since you got here and how you’ve been jumping from one shenanigan to the next with no real plan. You’re used to the spontaneity and not knowing what is going to happen next is your normal, it’s also really stressful. She exhales some tension. She says that while it isn’t always great, cloistered jades at least know what life has in store for them and what comes next and can make some sort of plan. She feels stuck in this limbo and has been frustrated at being stuck in the “will I won’t I” of it all for sweeps before finally hearing the answer was no and having no way of knowing what’s coming next. The uncertainty of it all is getting to her. Wow, she is actually complaining about feeling unsure of what comes next to an alien on Alternia.

It isn’t a contest and you get what she means. Guess the two of you are just going to have to make it up as you go. That’s what you’ve been doing at least and it’s been pretty okay so far. She raises an eyebrow at you. You’ve seen a lot places you wouldn’t have seen other otherwise and made a lot of new friends along the way. After a moment she grins and lets you know that while she isn’t completely comfortable with the idea of it, knowing she isn’t the only one making it up as they go does make her feel a lot better. So does it being a good way of making friends.

[angelkurenai]

Worth it - Sebastian Stan x Reader

Title: Worth it

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x Reader

Warnings: None

Prompt: hey, do you write for sebastian stan? because if so, here’s my request: sebastian say on a talk show that he have a crush on a singer and would love to meet her, and her manager contact him to be in her new music video! if you decides to write it, thank you x

“Speaking of- of fans and how passionate they can get about something, I think we can all agree that when it comes to finding things, no matter how hidden, they're masters at it, right?” Conan asked, pausing for a moment as the audience cheered and clapped, he looked at Sebastian who nodded his head with a small laugh “Like, the FBI should just fire all their staff and hire fans because they put even Sherlock Holmes to shame!”

“You can't hide a single thing, if it's out on the net.” he said “And they're fast too! Sometimes I have to spend hours looking for the most simple thing, like a good recipe for pasta, and you'll see them dig up tweets from ten years ago in five minutes!”

“I know right?” Conan laughed a bit “I mean, personally I don't mind to be honest. But it's like, before you know it,videos of you from the '90s come up on your feed again and the naked pictures you took in the 2000s reposted again for everyone to admire your-” but he stopped, giving a look to the audience who cheered a little bit too loudly, some even laughing “Oh you sick per- I didn't mean that!”

“You-” Sebastian tried to hold his laughter, frowning as if to look more serious “You're talking about yourself here right?”

“I-” Conan stifled a laugh “Well, yeah. I usually embarrass myself and not the guest unless you have something to share with us now Sebastian.”

“I-” Sebastian cleared his throat, shaking his head “No, I'm good. I think I'm good, no need to give Mackie more info. Although I feel like after this interview-” he couldn't help but crack a smile “My social media accounts will be... attacked to say the least. Who knows what they'll dig up.”

“Now that you've mentioned it, well technically I did but it's easier to blame you because I can't lower myself any further than I already have in this show-” Conan pause, once more narrowing his eyes at the audience who laughed “Whose side are you on?” he shook his head dramatically “Anyway, where were we? Oh yes, remembering our sinful pasts.” that earned more laughter from both the audience and Sebastian “And speaking of that, I wanted to tell you, that there is this account that's called “Sebastian Stan doing things.” are you aware of that?”

“I mean, yeah, it's called my life.” he said with a small smile, earning a chuckle.

“There are accounts like this for other celebrities and while we were going through this account we noticed one major difference from the other ones: It was filled with posts of you that were actually very rare. According of course to the comments because it's not like we stalk you or your social media or anything. I definitely don't have posters of you shirtless around my room or anything.” Conan scoffed, shrugging casually and earning more laughter, continuing after a couple seconds “But there was this particular video of an interview of you and during that interview you got to talk about uhm your favorite singer...?”

It ended mostly as a question only meant to ask Sebastian in a way if he remembered it. It certainly didn't take more than half a second before the man was laughing in embarrassment, head hanging low as he could feel the nervousness settling in. Maybe he couldn't remember the entire interview per se so he couldn't remember if it was as embarrassing as he feared – not that he had much hope, he had been told plenty of times by his friends that he lost control when it came to you and his obvious admiration for you – but that didn't mean that this one wasn't going to be. If anything he was 100% sure that this one would be even worse. But he nodded his head anyway and spoke.

“I uhm. Yes, yes I think I know which one you're talking about.” he said, finally looking Conan in the eyes.

“Well-” the man couldn't hold back a laugh at the silent plea in Sebastian's eyes to not speak up further because it honestly was too funny and in the end spoke again “It's good thing, really, because I was watching it and I have to say this, that I realised early on, you are a big (Y/n) fan, aren't you?”

“I'm... somewhat.” Sebastian cleared his throat and avoided eye-contact only because he knew that was a big fat lie that anyone could see right through.

“Somewhat? Alright, let's- How about we take a look at a small clip of the entire thing, yes?”

“So the Grammys happened last night and you guys didn't mis on the opportunity to do a live. Anthony let me tell you that Beyonce can't compare to you.” the interviewer looked at Anthony and Sebastian who laughed “You singing along to her will forever be remembered. Just like Sebastian's own mini concert. One we didn't really expect, to be honest, because you seemed to know the lyrics real well. Given that it is (Y/n)'s newest song. I wonder, is there even a moment you hesitated?”

“Oh sister you've seen nothing. The real question should be: Is that how you're on a daily basis? And I'll tell you, calmly: Fucking hell no! He doesn't shut up about (Y/n) or how amazing she is, how funny and how sweet, how great of an artist she is or even singing her songs!”

“I'm not... that bad. It's not like- I mean it is mostly the shower!” Sebastian defended himself “And besides that, she isan incredible artist! She puts her heart and soul into every song and, come on, you saw her performance too! (Y/n) nailed it and she was worth every grammy and every win of last night.”

“The neighbors ain't gonna think so, though.” Anthony muttered “very time she won, you'd hear Sebastian nearly screaming 'Yes!' at the top of his lungs. Don't deny it, don't! Just don't even try to, I have proof and I'm sure the entire neighborhood will come to as witnesses to the court.E”

“Is that so? Well, interesting to know. See, I was actually going to ask you Sebastian: what was the most say memorable moment and, say, your favorite one but I'm guessing it's-”

“(Y/n)” he laughed a bit shyly after his too-fast-and-honest response “I mean-” he shrugged a bit “(Y/n) is simply, how can I say it, (Y/n). And she's incredible, it's impossible to not be in awe and not to admire the woman simply for who she is and for how wonderful she is as a singer too. She manages to make people, me included, feel so many things with the way she sings, her words and voice could just as easily be out of this world. And it's not just her voice, there is all this raw emotion coming out on her face, in her eyes, as she sings that you can't help but feel it too as you get pulled in. I mean, even her videos can leave you speechless, easily compared to some of the greatest movies I've seen. I swear I've cried more times during her songs and videos than I have ever before in my life. She's got this-”

“Friendly advice: Stop him here, he could go on for hours. He has done it before!” Anthony warned.

The interviewer laughed and nodded her head “Noted. So Sebastian, I'm taking it you could also say you're a fan then?”

“I'm-” he looked carefully at the camera “... Maybe? Well, yes, obviously yes. Alright.” he ended up adding after a good few seconds of silence “Gosh I know that if this ever gets out on the net, I'm not gonna hear the end of it from my friends.”

“I might be playing a dangerous game here but, may I ask why?”

“And that-” Conan paused for a moment to let the crowd applaud “Is only the beginning. We don't have much time but the interview kept on for much longer, yes? And you get to talk about her and your admiration for much much longer, correct?”

“Yes.” Sebastian cleared his throat nervously “That would be the case, yes. See although we were also talking about the movie too, she was mentioned many times because it was relevant to the topic.”

“Yes, for you. Because, and I say again I've watched the whole thing, Anthony was speaking about the movie too but he didn't bring her up every 5 seconds.” he looked him dead serious in the eyes, which earned a nervous awkward laugh from Sebastian and laughter from the audience.

“Come on man, it-” he chuckled, head ducking almost shyly “I wasn't' that bad. Just give me a break.”

“But I'm not even exaggerating here! People will think that just because I'm a drama queen that I'm somehow making things up but, and the video is up now on channel for you to watch, I'm completely serious. Do you- See you spoke a lot about her and clearly had a lot to say about her, we don't blame you. Who can? (Y/n) is indeed incredible and an amazing singer. But do you know how many times you said her name for real?”

“Uhm.... no?” he asked slowly “I- I think it was plenty of times because I'm a big fan, I can't help it-”

“Yeah, no kidding.” Conan teased him, unable to hold his laughter “I would have never guessed!”

“Come on man. Stop it.” he said but only in a low voice, the awkwardness and embarrassment growing with each minute passing by. He laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck “I mean-” he dared look Conan in the eyes “There are so many fans of hers worldwide, why embarrass me out of all of them the most?”

“You are our guest tonight though.” Conan chuckled “If anything, I'm pretty sure Anthony said at some in the interview – and you should all go ahead and watch it- that you are more than just a fan. He went s far as to say that she's your celebrity crush. No?”

“I-” he started but cleared his throat, shifting in his seat and look at him with a tight smile.

“And the fact is also verified by Chris Evans in another interview, which our amazing staff found. That one by chance, mostly, but it was well worth it.”

“By chance. I'm starting to believe both Mackie and Evans pushed those videos forward to you or something.”

“We shall forever wonder.” Conan chuckled “But besides that, crush or not – a question you skillfully voided answering – you are quite the fan. Yet you don't know how many times you mentioned her, at all?”

“No, no of course I didn't keep track. Seriously I have no idea.”

“Really? Because, Sebastian, you said her name 18 times.” he paused only for two seconds to let the crowd cheer and applaud while Sebastian laughed even more nervously than before “Like, I kid you not, I counted. I even made the rest of the staff count. It was 18 times. In just one interview. What do you have to say about that?”

“Well... I might be a really big fan?” he suggested slowly and with a smile that could only be described as awkwardly cute but it did the job of making the crowd laugh.

“You might Sebastian. You might.” Conan laughed “But seeit surprises me that, you are a celebrity yourself, you're well-known and famous and really successful and despite having all that and despite being such a big fan, despite admiring her for years, you have yet to meet her, correct?”

“Well, seeing how I am still alive, I have not met her yet no. Though, as everyone that knows me is already well aware of, I'd really love to one day. Will I survive to tell the story? Probably no, but it will be worth it.”

Was it worth it though?

He kept asking the same question to himself over and over again ever since he got the phone call from his manager. And with it being two days now and the interview having been three days now, he couldn't help but feel like this was not real. It could not be, he had to be dreaming and yet try as he might to wake himself up he couldn't do anything about it. Maybe the way his stomach was tied in knots and his heart was beating so hard and fast, threatening to break free from his ribcage, and the way his mind felt so lightweight as if he couldn't even think straight was enough proof that this was very much real as much as it was a torture. A torture to feel all of that, a torture to wait, a torture to watch the minutes tick by without any news and in a maddening silence of a small room, a torture to feel this anticipation without a result with each passing second. It was all of that that made him wonder if it was worth it.

And all of that that answered the question as well. He was probably being overdramatic but even if it were for him to not survive meeting you, it would all have been well worth it.

It was all well worth it indeed, and even more than he imagined, when the door was pushed opened and the first thing he saw was your sparkling eyes, almost widening at first, and the beautiful albeit shy and nervous smile that got only bigger when you saw him.

It was all well worth it when you spoke to him, voice low and soft, sweet as honey “Oh gosh, I can't believe this is happening. I'm-” it was all well worth it when you laughed sheepishly “Hello, it's great to meet you at last! I'm (Y/n).”

It was all well worth it when he reached for your hand and took it in his with murmured words of his own and a smile that made his cheeks hurts. It was all well worth it when he felt that skip in his heartbeat.

[bittywitches]

Baby Girl | G.D [Part Two]

Part One

A/N: Sorry for taking an extra day to post this 😬 Brief summary in Part One! Thank you for reading <3

Warnings: Insinuating smut?? I think suggestive is the word lol ; Asthma 

Word Count: 5.3K

“What are you doing??”

“Hold still!”

“No, stop!”

“Look, I searched it up, and apparently honey helps! Now stop moving!”

You groaned, finally letting Cameron grab you and hold you steady while she tried to smear some honey onto your burn. 

“Ugh, this is gross.”

“Shut up, it’ll help.”

Ethan walked into the kitchen, holding a phone in his hand. “Hey, Cam, I think Angela called-”

He looked up to see what you both were doing, and immediately furrowed his eyebrows.

“What did I just walk in on.”

Cameron rolled her eyes. “Get the fuck out of here.” She snatched the phone away from him, and he shrugged, walking back out to the living room.

Cameron checked her missed calls and tapped on your sister’s name, bringing the phone up to her ear.

“Hey! You called me?” 

You heard your sister’s voice mumbling. Cameron looked over to you.

“Is your phone dead? Apparently she tried calling you.”

“Oh shit, I forgot I shut it off so I wouldn’t be distracted. My bad.” She nodded at you, repeating the same thing to Angela.

“So what’s up?” Another series of mumbles, but you were able to make out her saying ‘sorry’ a few times.

“Oh, don’t even worry about it. She’ll be fine. Yea, okay. See you later.” She brought her phone down from her ear, now licking the remaining honey off of her finger tips.

“She said she’s gonna be a bit late to come pick you up. Apparently there was a mix up with one of her clients and she accidentally delivered the wrong cake to the venue.”

“Oh.. okay.” You glanced up at the clock, the time already reading 8:30pm. “Do you know when she’ll be coming?”

“She said she might be a few hours.”

“Oh, you know what I can just take the bus then-”

“No, you can stay here as long as you need.”

You bit your lip. “I don’t wanna impose…” 

“Shut up, you’re fine.”

“Cam this isn’t even your house.”

“Well when I’m staying here it might as well be.” She could see you were still tense however, and sighed. “You know I’d call you an uber, but you never seem that comfortable going in those.”

You crossed your arms. “Sorry..”

“No, stop.” She grabbed your arm, pulling you into the living room. 

“Cam-”

“Shut up! Just sit.”

You looked up at the room, seeing the twins sitting on opposite sides of the coffee table, staring at the both of you with blank faces because of your sister’s outburst.

Your eyes went to Grayson, who was staring at you with an expression you couldn’t identify. He was relaxed on the couch, an arm draped lazily over the back with his phone in the other hand. He tilted his head at you, raising an eyebrow at your stunned expression, only causing your nerves to go even more haywire. You desperately wanted to just walk over and sit yourself down in his lap, grab his face and kiss him again. Oh, how you needed to feel his lips once more, how you ached for his hands to roam your body. You couldn’t-

“Angela’s gonna be a bit late. That alright with you guys?” Cameron asked, sitting herself down next to Grayson on the sofa, much to your relief but also a bit to your disappointment, nonetheless snapping you out of your daze.

“No problem,” Ethan said, patting the seat next to him on his couch, an inviting smile on his lips. You had to take a second to reroute your brain,  but you grinned at his welcoming demeanour, gently placing yourself down next to him. Your eyes shot up quickly to meet with Grayson’s, finding that his eyes were already on you, a gentle smile on his lips. His calm expression was disturbed however, when Cameron shook his shoulder, trying to ask him something.

You turned away from his gaze quickly, looking back over at Ethan. “Sorry, I don’t want to disturb.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it.” He turned a bit in his seat, so he was facing more towards you. “So, Caltech, huh?” He asked with a friendly smile.

“Yep.” You returned it, relaxing a bit. You liked being around Ethan, at least you’d deduced that from the limited amount of interactions you had with him. It felt easy being around him, and you just felt like you could be comfortable in his company.

“Excited to graduate?”

“Oh, definitely.” He raised an eyebrow at you, and you added: “Not that I’m sick of high school or anything; Just ready to get it over with.”

He chuckled. “Yea, I can understand that feeling.”

“Yea?” You fiddled with the end of Grayson’s sweatshirt. “You were tired of senior year too?”

“Well, no.” you tilted your head at him, and he cleared his throat. “Gray and I actually dropped out freshman year.”

Your eyes widened a bit. “Oh..” you began, but he rushed to cut you off.

“Don’t think we’re just a couple of dumbasses though,” He laughed. “Don’t worry, we did graduate. Just didn’t go to physical school.”

“Ohhh.” You said, nodding your head. 

“Yea. Because of that we were actually able to get our whole directing thing going for us.”

“You guys direct?” You said, intrigued.

“Yea, nothing too big though. Short films, small documentaries, ads and stuff for bigger companies… that kinda stuff.”

“Wow, that’s really cool!” You said, and you meant it. “So you’ve got your own company?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

“Dang. You guys are so young too.. That’s so cool.”

He laughed. “Yea, well, it is pretty cool to do stuff like that for a living.”

“So, anything I might’ve seen?”

“Uhhh… probably not to be honest.” He paused. “We do have this Youtube channel where we post some of our personal projects.”

“Oh?”

“Yea. We go by the Dolan twins.”

“‘The Dolan Twins’.” You repeated to yourself. “I like it. Has a nice ring to it.” You scrunched your eyebrows together. “Feel like I recognize it.”

“Maybe. There was this one music video we did a while back that got pretty popular. Hawaiian Party?”

Your eyes lit up. “Yea! I’ve seen that! I really liked the music video for that song-” Your head whipped around back to him. “You guys did that??”

He grinned “Yep.”

“Oh my god, you guys are so talented! That video is so good!”

He shrugged, waving his hand at you. “Stop, you’re embarrassing me.”

“No, seriously. It’s really good. And you guys are so young!”

“You keep saying that. And says you, Miss ‘high school senior’.”

“Hey!” You shoved his shoulder, and he laughed. “You guys are actually doing stuff. You’re like, out there, creating things. That’s really cool.”

He rubbed his shoulder, but a smile was plastered on his face. “Thanks, bookworm.”

“Please don’t call me that.”

“I think it suits you.”

“I don’t like it.”

“Would you prefer Wise girl?”

“Bookworm it is.”

“Hey, do you guys wanna watch a movie?” Cameron interrupted you both.

“Sure, why not.” Ethan responded, and you nodded your head in agreement.

“Cool.” She grabbed the remote, and started scrolling through the most popular section on Netflix. “Tell me if you see anything interesting.”

“How about that one?” Grayson chimed in, stopping Cameron’s hand when she hovered over the one he liked.

“Aight. E, can you turn out the lights?”

“On it.” He jumped up from his seat, rushing over to the turn off the switch while Cameron started the movie. He quickly scurried back, falling back down on the couch beside you.

“Wanna share a blanket?” He whispered to you as the intro began playing. 

You nodded slightly, so he bent around the side of the sofa and pulled out a large, fuzzy cotton blanket. He threw it over the both of you, making sure you got most of it.

“You good?”

“Yea, thanks.” You replied, smiling. However, after returning your attention to the screen, the dark, moody tone of the film worried you a bit.

“Is this a horror movie?” You questioned.

“Yea, is that an issue?” You heard Grayson’s rough voice say. It wasn’t a problem, per se, but you weren’t really too fond of horror movies, considering you got spooked incredibly easily. But you didn’t want Grayson to know that.

“N-no, it’s fine.” You faltered, bringing the blanket up and over your shoulders.

“You okay? We can change the movie if you want.” Ethan interrupted, giving you an understanding look that immediately eased you.

“No, it’s seriously fine.” You fumbled, giving him a thankful smile still.

“Okay..” he could tell that you were bluffing, but didn’t wanna embarrass you.

“Shut up, the story’s starting!” Cameron scolded, making you all turn your attention back to the movie.

You were fine for most of the beginning, feasting on the popcorn Cameron had given you so you had something to focus on. When the real scary stuff started happening, though, you were really on edge, jumping at every little sound. At one point, you flinched so hard when you heard Cameron drop the remote on the floor you’d nearly knocked the blanket off of both you and Ethan.

“Hey, hey, chill out.” Ethan whispered with a chuckle, going to grab the blanket at both of your feet. 

“Ah, sorry..” you mustered, gripping tightly onto the blanket he handed you.

“Jeez, relax, bookworm.” He rubbed you shoulder gently, trying to calm you down. “S’just a movie.”

“I know..” you sighed, relaxing into his side as he continued to rub your arm. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, just stop spazzing out, you big baby.” You smiled, thankful for his joking attitude to take your mind off of the movie. 

The rustling movements on the other couch caught your eye, and your eyes drifted over there to see Grayson’s hooded eyes pierced right at you. His jaw was clenched, hard. The look his dark brown pupils were giving you scared you more than anything in the movie you’d seen so far. You turned away, focusing back on the television. 

What‘s he looking at me for?

...

“Did you fall asleep?”

Your eyes shot open at the sound of Cameron’s voice, but you groaned when you saw her cocky expression.

“No,” you objected, naturally going to rub your eyes before pulling your arms down quickly. “I just...”

“I think it might be past her bed time.” Ethan interjected, returning from the kitchen with a mug in his hand, and you narrowed your eyes at him as Cameron chuckled along with him.

“Can’t believe you got so tired you slept through a horror movie.”

“Shut up, Cameron.” You groaned, shoving at her shoulder.

“Fine fine.” She yawned. “Honestly I can’t blame you, that was a shit movie anyways.” She yelled that last part, turning back towards the kitchen, and you could hear Grayson’s gravelly voice groan.  “Next time pick a better movie, dumbass.” She said as Grayson appeared from behind the wall, an annoyed look on his face.

“You said you were okay to watch it.” He pointed out, crossing his large arms against his broad chest.

“Whatever.” She turned her attention back to you. “Angela called me again. Said she might be here in a half hour or so.”

You nodded. “‘Kay.” You grabbed your phone, checking the time. It read 11:40. “You should go to bed, Cam.”

“You don’t want me to wait with you?” She rubbed your shoulder reassuringly.

“I’ll be fine.” You assured her, and she gave you a thankful smile.

“Good.” She got up, stretching her arms up and above her head. “I really would stay with you, but I am so fucking exhausted.”

“Didn’t you just make fun of me for falling asleep?” You retorted.

“Hey, there’s a difference between being tired and falling asleep. I’m stronger than you.” She chuckled, then bent down to give you a hug. “Okay, see you tomorrow?”

“Yea, okay.”

“I think I’m gonna head in for tonight too.” Ethan added, stifling a yawn. 

You nodded, standing up as he walked over to you. 

“Glad we finally got to meet, Y/N.” he said, and he leaned in to give you a tight squeeze. 

“Yea, me too.”

“Alright, good night hon.” Cameron said, leaving her for her room, Ethan following suit.

“Gnight guys.”

You plopped back down onto the sofa with a sigh. You looked up, seeing Grayson standing before you with a stone cold expression.

You cleared your throat. “You’re not going to bed?”

“No, not feeling tired.”

“Oh... okay.” You mumble, your hands fiddling in your lap. Why did you have to be alone with him? Why did he make you feel like this?

“So,” he finally said, breaking the silence, and sat down next to you. “You and E getting pretty close?”

“Uh..” you rubbed your shoulders. “Sure.”

His jaw tightened again.

“I-I mean, not really. I just met him today.”

“What, so we’re not that close?” He leaned in suddenly, his face now just inches from yours. “We just met today, didn’t we?” His hand came up to gently caress the side of your cheek.

“I-I...” all you could focus on was the feeling of his hot breath on your lips.

He leaned in closer, the tips of your noses touching, his eyes burning with longing, and yours in turn with need. You closed your eyes, and you felt like his lips were almost brushing yours..

He smirked. “M’just teasing, baby girl.” He let go of you, causing your eyes to flutter open as he got up from the couch and walked back over to the kitchen, leaving you astonished and tense. Reaching for his body that was already gone.

Why did he have to do this? Why play with you like this? Why did he have to make your chest pound? You craved him, you needed his lips and his warmth and his scent and his hands and-

“Do you want something?” Grayson stopped before disappearing into the hallway, looking back over at you.

You practically choked, panicking as you wondered how he could tell what you were thinking.

“W-what??”

“To eat. Like, dinner? Did you have that?”

“Huh? I- Ohh..” you realized, calming down from your outburst.

He chuckled. “Why’re you so on edge?”

You, you wanted to say, but shook your head. “Sorry.. tired.”

“You have to stop apologizing for everything, sweetheart.” He hoisted his arms up onto his waist. “M’gonna make some avocado toast, want some?”

“I’ve never tried it before.”

“What??” His eyes widened at that. “Okay, we are going to rectify your mistake right now. Cmon.” He grabbed your hand, pulling you up abruptly, your nose getting buried in the thin cloth of his T-shirt.

“Gray-“

“Come onnn.” He dragged you to the kitchen by your wrist, and you eventually gave up trying to break away from his hold, following him.

“Okay, c’mere.” 

“W-“

He grabbed your waist suddenly, causing a small yelp to leave your lips. The warmth from his hands spread through your body, but it was short-lived, since he let go as soon as he hoisted you up onto the kitchen counter.

“You better prepare your tastebuds, because this will taste so good.” He leaned up and over you to get some bread out of the cupboard. 

You brought your hands together to clasp them in your lap. You watched as he threw a few slices of bread into the toaster oven, then went to grab some avocados from the fruit basket.

He looked so cute and homey in his sweats, now cutting the avocados in half and removing the pits. You felt like he was your boyfriend, making you breakfast in the morning. You blushed at the thought.

“Hey, sorry if it seemed like I was forcing you to watch that movie.” He peered up at you as he scooped the flesh into a bowl. It appeared that he had been thinking about that for a while, because you could see his shoulders relax after saying the words out loud.

“You know, if I’m not supposed to apologize for things, you shouldn’t either.”

He smiled at that. He brought the bowl over to you, setting it beside you on the counter top. “Can you mash this?” He asked, handing you a fork.

“‘Kay.” You took it and placed the bowl in your lap. Grayson walked over to the toaster oven, gently opening it to see if the bread was finished. He took another fork from the drawer, and carefully took the pieces of bread out of the oven and placed them onto a plate beside it.

“So..” you began, becoming uncomfortable in the silence. “E was telling me about your guys’ directing n stuff.”

“Oh yea?” he replied, now reaching up to a different cabinet.

“Mhm.” He shuffled over, and sprinkled some salt and black pepper into your bowl. “I think it’s really impressive.”

“That’s sweet of you.” 

“I-I mean, I’ve only seen one of your projects but…” He raised an eyebrow at you. “I really liked it.”

He shook his head, smiling. “Thanks.”

He brought the plate over, which had slices of bread that he had lightly rubbed garlic onto, and two shakers with sesame seed and red pepper flakes in them. 

“Here.” He took the bowl from you, and grabbed the spoon he’d left on the counter, scooped up some of the flesh and smeared it onto the toast.

“You sure this is supposed to taste good?” You asked, fiddling with your fingers. “Looks kinda weird…”

“Ok, if you say something like that again I’ll have no choice but to be mad at you.” 

“Well, I definitely wouldn’t want that.” You tittered.

His mouth dropped open a bit, a little surprised. “Were you just being cocky right there?”

“Nooo,” You pulled some loose strands of hair behind your ear, giggling.

“Wow. Never thought a little girl could actually have an attitude.”

“Hey!”

“Alright, my bad.” He laughed, finally sprinkling the shakers over the toast. “Okay, here, try it.” He lifted the piece of toast up carefully, feeding it to you.

You took a bite, not expecting anything out of it, but it actually turned out to taste a lot better than you expected. “Wow, this is really good.” You admitted, your mouth full.

“I told you.” He grinned.

“Mmm gimme another bite.” You mumbled, leaning in to chomp down on the bread in his hand again.

“Hey, slow down.” He chuckled, setting the toast down on the table. You swallowed, giving him an affirming hum of approval. 

“Oh, hey.” His hand suddenly came up to your face, surprising you. He leaned in a bit as his thumb swept across the bottom of your lip. “Bit of avocado.” He muttered, bringing his thumb up to his lips to lick it off.

You suddenly became incredibly aware of everything going on right now. Aware of the constant beating in your chest that just wouldn’t settle down. Aware of Grayson’s hovering hand next to your waist. Aware of his hazel eyes lingering on yours. Aware of his baby pink lips.

And before you knew it you were both leaning in, smashing your lips together, arms connecting with bodies all at once.

Your arms went up and around his neck, one of your hands tangled up in his long hair while the other held the back of his neck. His hands immediately went to your waist, as if they were longing to touch you and were being restrained until this moment. He pulled you closer to him, sliding you up to the edge of the counter so he could press his body up against yours. He pushed his sweatshirt up a bit higher, and he slipped his warm hands under your tank top. 

The overwhelming warmth of just Grayson against you caused you to moan into his lips, your arms now roaming his broad back. While before, your kiss had been deep and intimate, this one was hot and fueled by lust. He pulled his lips away from yours only to press them firmly against your cheek, under your lips, your chin, leaving a sloppy trail down to your neck. 

“Ohh..” You moaned, your hands drifting down to grip his neck, causing him to growl into yours. You gasped when he teethed at your sensitive skin, making your nails dig into his neck. He trailed down further, nipping at your skin before resting at your collar bone, where he gently pressed a kiss to your burn, getting a taste of the sweet honey, emitting a sigh from you. But he then moved to the other side of you, sucking on your chest. Your eyes widened when you realized, he was planning on leaving another bruise there.

“G-Gray…” you stuttered, your hands going to cup his face, but he kept going as if he hadn’t heard you, his hands sliding up your back as he did so.

You loved it, but you were scared he would actually leave a mark. “Grayson..”

His lips finally left your skin, and he straightened up to look at you. His dark eyes locked on yours, filled with desire. 

“I want you so badly.” He leaned back in to kiss you, and his lips made you feel like you were walking on air.

“Mmmm..” You hummed into his lips.

He pulled away, but pressed his forehead against yours, his loud breath filling the room. He bit your lip, and your glossy eyes were mesmerized by his lustful ones. You were intoxicated by him. He leaned closer into you, and you left a soft “oh” escape your lips when you felt him press up against the inside of your thigh. 

“G-Grayson...” Your face flushed. He bent down to nibble at your earlobe.

“Let me make you feel good.” 

Your core was throbbing almost as fast as your heart pounded in your ears. God, you wanted him. You wanted him bad. But it would be wrong… and were you even ready?..

His hands drifted down your back. He gently dipped his fingers under the waistband of your sweatpants. You gripped his biceps, burying your face into his shoulder.

You couldn’t…

But when you felt his fingertips graze against the edge of your panties, you absolutely lost it, blood rushing to your face.

“Ohhh..” You groaned into his shoulder, but finally pulled away to look at him, eyes matching his. 

“Okay.”

That was all Grayson needed to hear for him to grab your ass cheeks and hoist you up onto his waist. You yelped, folding your legs around his waist and wrapping your arms tight around his neck. You gasped because you could feel him in his sweats, and your crotch was basically resting on top of it. 

“Ohh fuck-” but before you could get anymore embarassed, he connected your lips again, his large arms supporting your weight as you felt him begin to walk out of the kitchen.

He walked into his bedroom, kicked the door closed with his foot, and then pressed you up against the door. 

“M’gonna make you feel amazing, baby girl.” He kissed your lips, then went to kiss your neck again.

“Oh god, please.” You pulled at his hair, making him growl again.

“Fuck, C’mere.” He carried you over to his bed and lowered your gently onto it, gnawing at your lip while doing so. He bent over you, kissing you so passionately you genuinely could not think straight. He crawled over you, his hands traveling up under your tank top, finding the edge of your bra. You swore he could feel your heart pounding in his fingertips.

“Is it okay if I-”

“GRAYSON!”

You jumped, shrieking at the sudden voice you had just heard. 

Oh my god, who was that? Did you just get caught? What on earth were you doing-

“GRAYSONNN!”

“You have got to be FUCKING kidding me.” Grayson groaned, lowering his head onto your chest.

It was Cameron.

Your chest heaved. “I-I thought she had gone to bed?”

“Apparently not.” He grumbled, getting up and off the bed. “Lemme go deal with her, okay?”

“...’Kay.” you nodded, watching him walk out the door, and then gently close it shut. 

You sat there for a few seconds, staring so hard at Grayson’s door it felt like you could burn a hole through it. Grayson’s door. And you were in Grayson’s room. 

...You were in Grayson’s room.

“Oh my god.” You held your head in your hands. What were you doing? What the FUCK were you doing? Were you seriously just about to have sex with Cameron’s brother? Your heart started pounding louder than before.

Badum. Badum.

“Oh god, oh god…” You pressed a hand to your chest, trying to calm yourself down. But what the fuck were you thinking? Were you seriously thinking about losing your virginity to this person you didn’t even know?

Badum badum

Had you lost your mind? You were in no state to make this kind of decision for yourself. You were still in high school! What the fuck did you know about sex-

Badum badum badum

And what did you plan on doing, really? Were you just going to sit there while Grayson expected you to do something? You would embarrass yourself completely, you didn’t know how to do this-

Badum badum badum badum

He’d realize you weren’t able to do this, and he’d look at you weird, god you’d never be able to show your face to him-

Badumbadumbadum

You’d never be able to show your face to Cameron again, Hell you’d never be able to be seen by any of them, jesus christ you were not ready for this-

Badumbadumbadumbadum

“No, no, no…” You held your head, cradling yourself, but the pounding in your ears was only getting louder and louder-

Badumbadumbadumbadum

“No, please,” You got off of the bed, trying to clear your head. You could see where this was heading, you could already feel it-

Badumbadumbadumbadum

“No, stop,” You looked around the room, trying to focus on something, but your eyes landed on the mirror, immediately going to Grayson’s sweatshirt you were wearing.

He’s never gonna want that back now, not after you’ve worn it.

“Nonono NO!” You frantically pulled the sweater over your head and threw it onto the bed, pressing your back up against the wall farthest away from it, as if it was poisonous. But now your legs were shaking, and you had to press your hands to the wall to keep yourself from falling over. Sweat trickled down your forehead, and it felt like, the room was turning fuzzy?

Badumbadumbadumbadumbadumbadumbadum

“Fuck, no, jesus,” You could feel your chest tightening. Your back ached. You tried to breathe in, but it only came in short bursts. You started coughing and wheezing, but your only thought was:

I have to get out of here.

You followed the wall until your fingers felt the cold doorknob, twisting it and throwing the door open. You turned so fast to get out of the room your head started spinning, and your shaky arm had to grip onto the door frame to keep yourself from face planting into the floor. Your breaths were coming even shorter now, and all you knew was that you needed to get to your bag. You pushed yourself to walk as fast as you could before you smashed into a broad chest.

“Where’re you going, baby girl?” Grayson smirked.

badumbadumbadumBADUMBADUMBADUM 

“G-G-Gray-”

His cocky grin immediately faded as soon as he saw your red, sputtering face. “Oh my god, Y/N, are you okay??”

You gripped onto his biceps to steady yourself. “I n-nee-d-” You started wheezing even more, and Grayson gripped onto your elbows tightly the more worried he got. “M-m-y inh-h-haler,’ Your legs finally gave out, and you toppled over into his chest. He grabbed your body, trying to keep you upright. 

“Y/N are you having an asthma attack??”

You tried to nod, and he could feel you move your head against his chest. 

“Jesus, fuck- Where is it??” He pulled you away from him, gripping your shoulders. “Y/N, where is your inhaler?”

“Ba-ag-- c-couch-”

“Okay, I’m going to get it, okay? I’m coming back,” He propped your shoulder up against the wall, and rushed to the living room.

Your chest hurt so bad, and you could barely breath. Your legs gave out once more, and you sank to the floor, your hands flat against the cold hardwood to try and keep yourself up.

“I GOT IT! I got it, I’m coming-” Grayson appeared in the hallway again, and seeing you on the floor only added to his fear. “No no no Y/N I’m here, I’m here!” He ran to your side and dropped to his knees. 

“Y/N I got it, look up at me, come on,” He popped the lid off of your inhaler, shaking it while he propped you up with his other arm. Your eyes were hazy, sweat all over your face.

“Here, here, open your mouth for me.” You did just enough so he could place the nozzle within your lips.

“Okay, I’m gonna count to three and you’re gonna breathe in, okay?” You nodded.

“One,

Two,

Three,

Breathe.”

You inhaled, and a split second afterwards Grayson pressed the button. You let out a big sigh, the pain in your chest easing.

“You’re okay, Y/N.” Grayson gently wrapped his arms around your shaking shoulders, rubbing your arm soothingly. “You’re okay.”

Finally your breathing gradually slowed down. When you realized that you really were okay, that was when the tears started to pour down your face.

You trembled, crying into your hands as you stayed curled up in Grayson’s arms. 

God, you had made such a fool of yourself. 

“Y/N? Y/N, are you okay?” he pulled you up to see your face again, his worry increasing again. 

You shook your head, small sobs escaping your throat. “I’m so sorry.” 

Now Grayson looked angry. “Hey, look at me. Look at me.”

He tilted your chin up so his eyes met his. “You NEVER have to apologize to me, okay?” He wiped the tears off of your face with his thumb. The horrified look in your eyes hurt him so much, so he took you up in his arms again, letting you rest your head against his chest as he stroked your hair. “Never.” he whispered. 

You bit your lip to stop any more tears from flooding over, balling up his t-shirt into your hands. You buried your face into the cloth, inhaling his scent that calmed you down more than you thought was possible. 

You both stayed there for a while, two bodies sprawled on the floor, entangled in each other. But before you knew it your cell phone was ringing from the living room.

“Oh.” You said, pulling away from him. You looked at his eyes. You’d seen them fueled by so many different emotions already, but now they were gentle. Kind. Loving.

“I-I should get that.”

“Right.” Grayson let go of you, letting you get up and walk to the living room.

You turned the screen over. It was your sister.

You took a deep breath before answering. “Hey!”

“Hii, I’m outside.”

“‘Kay. Be out in a minute.”

You shut the phone off, throwing it into your bag with the rest of your stuff. You sighed, running your hands over your face and hair as you exhaled. You slung your bag over you shoulder, and turned around to see Grayson standing there, as if waiting for you. 

“Um..” You sniffled. “My sister’s here.” You gestured towards the door.

“Oh. Okay.” Grayson scratched the back of his neck, but he didn’t move from his spot. He didn’t know if he should. Or if he could.

“Well… Bye.”

“Bye.” You walked over to the front door, gently turning the knob and pulling it open as quietly as possible. You turned back one last time to look at Grayson, who gave you a small smile and waved. You couldn’t return the smile, but you waved back to him, shutting the door closed behind you.

You exhaled.

- - - - - - - - - -

tags: @yourkidsfavbabysitter​ @melodiesforari​ @coxxkaty​ @pumkiinpasties​

[thompsborn]

It’s easy to be someone else in college.

Peter finds this out during his first week at MIT. No one knows him there—other than Ned, of course, but that’s different. It’s not like high school, where everyone in his grade watched the live new report covering his uncle’s death, where they all saw as the camera swept across the crime scene and, for just a moment, sitting in the back of an ambulance, they could see fourteen year old Peter Parker, shivering under the blanket draped over his shoulders, blood staining his fingers and his clothes and dotting his neck and face from the—the spray, caused by the bullet ripping through. Even if no one approached him about it directly, it was something that weighed him down at Midtown. Everyone saw him at his lowest.

At MIT, all anyone knows is what Peter tells them. They only see Peter Parker—the kid from New York, who has an internship locked into place at Stark Industries the second he graduates and likes to wear sweatshirts that are a bit too big on him. Eighteen and giggly and, as far as they’re concerned, untouched by the traumas of life. Pure, bubbly, and bright.

He isn’t a super social person, per se—as in, he can hold a conversation with some kind of ease, but he’s not that great at making new friends. Which is why it feels odd and exhilarating when he meets Harley, and they just—they click.

It’s like falling into place when they’re together. Peter feels unrestrained and able to make all the stupid little jokes that pop up in his brain and Harley laughs at each and every one. Most of the time, he claims to be laughing at just how bad of a joke it is, but Peter doesn’t mind—he knows his sense of humor is a little odd and as long as it makes someone laugh, that’s alright.

Falling into place—platonically, easily—doesn’t take very long to change into just falling. In like, in what might be love, Peter isn’t sure just yet. All he knows is that he starts saying whatever he can think of just to hear Harley laugh again.

(Ned isn’t helpful in the slightest when this happens. He just laughs, has to drop his head to rest it against his textbook while his shoulders shake and Peter would be annoyed if he didn’t just feel fond of the familiarity.)

The shift is gradual in a way that feels like nature chose to do it, like it was always meant to happen and they were only along for the inevitable ride. Peter soon learns that he quite likes holding hands, and he likes when they curl into each other on the sofa while a movie plays—knees to shins and wrists to elbows and it looks uncomfortable, according to Ned, but it feels like trees twisting their roots together, like they mould into one another—and he especially learns that kissing is a lot of fun. Like, a lot.

But he also learns that Harley is from a small, conservative town in Tennessee. He learns that he has a mother that has to work two jobs just to pay the bills and put the food on the table. He learns about Harley’s little sister and her knack for filmmaking and the way her grin can brighten the room. He learns about Harley’s father leaving and—eventually, learns that he isn’t the only one with connections to Stark Industries, learns that Harley knows Tony, too, and that he had requested Tony not talk about him to anyone, which explains why this is news to Peter. Harley snorts when Peter tells him about his own father/son relationship with Tony and it feels even more like fate, somehow.

Peter learns to love not only Harley, but all the aspects about his life—the chronic depression, the insomnia, the way he chortles at immature jokes and smothers his giggles in the sleeve of his sweatshirts when he knows he shouldn’t laugh at something. Peter learns to love how Harley likes his coffee and how he sometimes starfishes across the bed and always ends up stealing the pillows—which is fine, because Peter is a blanket hog, so it evens out. Every little thing about Harley, Peter learns to love.

But it’s easy to be someone else in college.

Peter realizes this when Harley comes with him to New York for the beginning of summer, and it clicks in his head—Harley doesn’t know him.

Or, he does, but not all of him. He knows Peter’s college self, the one that doesn’t show his trauma and isn’t stared at in the halls because everyone else knows them, too. He knows the Peter that lives in a dorm and goes back home every other weekend to visit family. He knows only the good parts—the stuff that Peter puts on display and doesn’t try to hide.

And Peter never meant to keep it a secret, no, but it never seemed to come up. Peter tried so hard to only think about the relevant stuff during the school year—didn’t allow himselt to dwell on the bad things, didn’t even allow himself to think about Spider-Man and how he had to go from daily patrols to only on the weekends he was in New York. He focused on college and fun and Harley and nothing else.

“So,” Harley says, holding Peter’s hand and swinging their arms back and forth happily. They’re trailing down the sidewalk in Queens, and Harley only knows that they’re headed for where Peter used to live—before college, before deciding to spend his summer in the Tower with Mr. Stark for training and internship stuff. “Should I know anything in advance?”

Peter cocks his head to the side. “What?”

“Like, ways to act, ways to not act, stuff I should or shouldn’t say. The whole parent approval preparation guide, you know?”

“Oh. Uh—”

And it’s right there—the chance to open up his chest a little bit, to give Harley a peak into his past. But Peter is—a coward, sometimes.

He shakes his head. “No. You’ll be great.”

Harley meets May and it isn’t until about halfway through the night that he seems to realize that— “You’re not Peter’s mom.”

“No, I’m not,” May says simply. “I’m his Aunt.”

She leaves it at that, and Peter hopes it slides over quickly, but Harley seems confused and curious throughout the rest of the visit. Still, he smiles at May, ducks his head in a parting nod and wins her over with all his charm before they leave, and he waits until they’ve started walking around the block while waiting for Happy to pick them up to say, “I thought you said you were gonna show me where you lived.”

“I did,” Peter tells him. Hopes he drops it.

He doesn’t. “Then I’m confused.”

Peter purses his lips, squints up at the sky and keeps walking. “Why are you confused?”

“That was your aunt,” Harley says, almost slow and matter of fact, as if he’s forgotten that, yes, Peter knows who it was. But, to make matters worse, he then asks, “Where’re your parents?”

The laugh that bubbles up from Peter’s chest is rough and a little bland, bitter tasting. He shakes his head. “You don’t want to know.”

Harley stops walking, tugs on Peter’s hand until he stops, too. “Yes, I do. I want to know.”

“Trust me—” Peter keeps walking. “You don’t.”

“Why are you trying to make that decision for me?” Harley questions, almost—frustrated.

Peter huffs. “Why are you pushing at something I very clearly do not want to talk about?”

“Because I—” Harley waves his other hand through the air, as if scrabbling for his words, trying to pluck them from the space in front of him. “I’ve told you everything—everything about me, you know? You know—all of it, and I don’t want to act entitled or like I deserve to know everything about you or—but it definitely feels like... like, a red flag, or something, the fact that you’re not even mentioning your parents. If you have a bad relationship with them or something, or just—whatever—just, tell me that so I know not to talk about it.”

And Peter—he understands what Harley means. He understands how unsettling it must be to realize that you’ve opened up your heart and soul to someone who doesn’t seem keen on doing the same. But, Peter has—baggage, a lot of it, and maybe he never mentioned any of the shit he’s carrying at MIT because maybe he just wants to prolong the change, wants to have Harley look at him without seeing everything that’s gone wrong in his life—just a little longer.

But that isn’t fair to Harley, really. Because that baggage and that heaviness? That’s part of Peter, as much as he wishes it wasn’t.

“Fine,” Peter murmurs, and he pulls his hand back, away from Harley’s—not because he wants to let go, but now he feels a little bit like a fraud and isn’t sure if Harley will wants to keep holding hands after he finds out all his secrets.

A car pulls up to the curb before either of them can say anything else, and Peter wastes no time, doesn’t look at Harley or at Happy as he clambers into the backseat and says, “We’re going to see my parents on the way back to the tower, if that’s alright with you, Hap.”

Harley looks conflicted and wary as he climbs into the backseat as well, watches as Happy instantly whips around to look at Peter with wide, somber eyes. “Kid...?”

“Harley wants to meet them,” Peter says, swallowing roughly. “Haven’t seen ‘em in a while anyway, so—might as well, right?”

There’s a whirlwind of unreadable emotions in Happy’s eyes as he glances to Harley, looks back to Peter, and then nods, just once, the action kind of curt and firm. “Alright,” he says, tone soft. “We’ll stop there first. No biggie.”

All this does is make Harley nervous, almost afraid of whatever they’re going to walk into, but Happy is already shifting the car into drive and pulling away from the curb, and Peter is looking adamantly out of the window with hunched shoulders and arms tucked against his chest, and Harley’s tongue is twisted, stuck in the back of his throat. He stays silent, just looks down at his lap and ponders what’s gonna happen, wonders how far the drive is.

About fifteen minutes later, the car comes to a stop. Happy puts it in park. “We’re here.”

Harley steels himself, mentally prepares himself for whatever it is that’s making Peter act so broody and quiet, looks up and—

Feels his heart drop to his stomach.

Maple Grove Cemetery.

Peter clears his throat, pushes the door open and steps out of the car with almost silent footsteps, rounds the car and pulls open Harley’s door—doesn’t look at Harley, doesn’t look up at all, just holds the door open and says, “C’mon. It’s gonna be dark soon.”

Feeling speechless and—and suffocated by his own thundering, raging hesrt beat, Harley just nods and unbuckles himself with shaky hands. He steps out of the car and can’t stop looking st the word cemetery, like staring will make it change from a graveyard and into a nice, cliché looking family home in the suburbs.

It doesn’t change. Peter closes the door behind Harley and silently leads the way—into the cemetery, clearly has the route memorized if the way he moves with ease and zero hesitation is telling anything. Harley just follows after him, struggling to catch his breath with the dread weighing down his lungs, and comes to a stop when Peter eventually freezes in front of a line of headstones, faces them with—empty eyes.

Harley parts his lips to suck in a harsh breath and turns his head, finds the names and—

Mary Teresa Parker

Richard Laurence Parker

Benjamin Franklin Parker

—there’s three.

Aunt May—just Aunt May, no partner in the apartment with her. Peter, telling Harley that it’s where he lived before college. Never mentioning his parents, or family, or—anyone, other than Tony, eventually. Father figure, Tony.

Because Peter’s dad is dead. His parents are dead. Ben—an Uncle, Harley guesses—gone.

“I’m—such an asshole,” Harley breathes, that weight growing tendfold in the pit of his stomach, making him feel ill, queasy, nauseous. “I can’t believe I—Christ, Peter, I’m so sorry.”

Peter chuckles, the sound dry and—not MIT Peter Parker, but actual him. The real Peter, with the heaviness and the loss and all of the bad things. The Peter with the trauma and the pain and the deadpan rasp to his voice as he shakes his head and murmurs, “You’re not an asshole, Harley. You just didn’t know.”

“I shouldn’t have to know,” Harley says, swallowing down the lump in his throat. “You didn’t want to tell me, and—and it’s your right, not wanting to tell me, and I pushed when it wasn’t my business and—I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

“I wanted you to know,” Peter says, his tone a little... vacant of his usual conviction. “I want you to know, really, I do, but—but it was so nice, not having everyone look at me differently because of what I’ve been through, y’know? By the time we met, I just—I never even thought about talking about it because I was trying so hard to keep all of that—all of the—the bad stuff, away from college. Away from me, for a bit. Just give myself room to breathe.” He laughs, an empty sort of sound, scrubs a hand over his features and looks down at where the toes of his shoes are sinking slightly into the damp grass. “Selfish of me, I guess.”

Harley wants to reassure, wants to insist that Peter isn’t selfish for wanting to have a break from his trauma. He wants to reach over and hold him and find a way to make it better.

He doesn’t know how.

He wishes, more than anything, that he did.

“Y’know,” Peter continues, either not noticing or blatantly ignoring the way Harley is looking at him with wide, watery eyes. “It’s actually my fault, the three of them dying. I caused it, and it’s—shitty, just living, for people that are dead because of you. Existing for them. It’s hard.”

“I don’t—” Harley stops, swallows roughly. “I don’t know the story, but you—I can guarantee that it isn’t—it isn’t your fault, Peter.”

The laugh is more of a sob now. “It is,” Peter says, shaking his hear and bringing up a shaking hand to wipe the tear off his cheek. “My parents, they were—they left a business trip early to come home a few days sooner because I was sick. They were on that plane to get to me, and it went down, and—and Ben, he was just trying to be a dad when he never asked to be one, you know? And I was such a shitty kid, Harley, I—I lashed out at him, I blamed him, and I ran off. And he came after me, because he was—he was so good at being a dad, even if he didn’t realize it, and it—the mugger just—and I heard the gunshot, and I looked over and he was—he was on the ground and I couldn’t stop the bleeding and he was—before the ambulance even got there, he was already—”

“Hey,” Harley interrupte, voice a croak as he reaches over and envelopes Peter in his arms. Peter cries, wails in an anguish that Harley has never heard before. “It’s okay. It wasn’t your fault, Peter, and they—I bet on everything I’ve got that they loved you more than anything, alright? And they wouldn’t want you to blame yourself like this. They’d want you to be happy.”

Peter sniffles, presses his nose to the side of Harley’s neck. “You didn’t know them.”

“No,” Harley agrees. “But I know you. There’s no such thing as not loving you, Peter Parker.”

-

(It’s easy to be someone else in college. But you don’t always have to be.)