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erodasfishtacos · 2 years

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Loving You is Easy (Demi)

prompt: my baby 🥺 mlb!harry’s exploration of his sexuality and coming out.

word count: 14.3k 🥲

warnings: topics of sexuality, identify issues, bullying, toxic masculinity, smut - 18+ minors dni

Take The Hint takes place in the middle of this fic & so you might want to reread first or when Harry starts to mention YN.

This fic is my baby. I’m so so proud of it. I hope you enjoy it as much as I have.

Please please like, follow, comment, and reblog ❣️

And I really would love to hear your thoughts so please send me a message about the fic ❣️

Assumptions.

That’s what Harry’s life has been based upon since he was in little league because of his perceived dominance and masculinity.

It happened nearly every game, he’d always draw attention because of his skill.

Even at such a young age - as soon as he could bat without the tee to hold the ball, people knew that he was something special.

Women would pinch his cheek and tell his mother to watch out because he was going to be a heartbreaker with the ladies - men would chuckle and joke that they were going to have to hide their daughters from him.

It doesn’t get any better as he grows up, it actually gets worse.

The more notoriety he garners, more attention and not just based on his athletic abilities, his looks landed him almost just as much.

He was good-looking and had above average athleticism, he was irresistible for people to leave alone.

He can’t count the number of times that men have asked him how many girls he had fucked that week because he just had to be getting it all the time.

In all this time of feeling wanted, Harry had never felt more alone.

He felt like there was something wrong with him.

There had to be - because he wasn’t living up to any expectations that society has set for him and had made abundantly clear since he was young.

He was meant to have a girl on his arm, who had to be the societal standard of beautiful who would follow him like a puppy.

Since he was a young teenager, always playing on baseball teams much higher than his age level - coaches and scouts knew that he was destined for the major leagues and it was just a matter of time before they snatched him up.

Girls in high school would swoon over his chiseled jaw, the way his biceps flexed, and the baseball bleachers were riddled with gaggles of giggly girls watching him practice on the pitch.

He didn’t have a break, there wasn’t a day of practice that didn’t go by where girls weren’t coming to watch him as he played.

It was supposed to be flattering but to Harry, it was just frustrating to constantly have all these girls gawking after him when he wasn’t interested.

Harry knew that he should be enjoying all the attention from the female gaze, at least, that’s what he thinks because of how often people are making assumptions about his private life.

But that’s all these things were…

Assumptions.

Harry didn’t care about girls or dating in middle school, never really gave it another thought when he never developed any crushes on the pretty peers who were very much interested in him.

It wasn’t until high school that he realized that there was something wrong with him or so he thought that he wasn’t normal like the other kids.

Harry began to realize that he didn’t have the same interests and urges as his friends who were constantly drooling over girls in short skirts or commenting on their appearances.

He could look at a girl and think she’s pretty but he didn’t have some deep primal urge to ask her over his house so he could get his rocks off like his friends did.

It only became an issue when his so-called friends started teasing him about his lack of social life with the ladies.

They would ask him if he was gay or asexual, asked him if he was still a virgin with all the date offers he gets.

He didn’t know what he was - he didn’t know if he was gay or asexual, he wanted to have sex but he didn’t just want it to be random.

Harry now realizes it wasn’t harmless teasing, not with how much emotional damage it had on his psyche to constantly be questioned about his sexuality.

He hadn’t known what he was.

It had been a late night practice and everyone was talking about the upcoming prom dance.

“Who are you taking, Styles?” Cody, one of his teammates asks as he packs up his bag with his equipment.

“Er, not sure,” Harry shrugs, attempting to come off nonchalant and unbothered by the question - despite how cocky he appeared, he was the furthest thing from confident internally about the topic.

“Come on! I know Lana and Jessie already asked you and they’re the hottest girls in the school! Lana’s tits are massive,” Seth chimes in, offended that Harry would have the nerve to turn down the girls of his teenage dreams.

Harry feels his face get hot because he knows what this is going to turn into very quickly - as it always did.

“Is it because you’re taking your boyfriend? Or yourself? Your hand can’t be your only date forever!” Cody crows, Harry’s hackle standing up at the jab and he feels himself getting hot.

“Mind your own fucking business,” Harry huffs out instead, swinging his pack over his shoulder and turning on his heel to leave.

“You know for how good you are at baseball, nobody would know you’re a virgin. Great in the field, a dud in the sheets,” Conner can’t help but add in, all the boys were chuckling as they changed.

Harry is still trying to be the bigger person by continuing to walk away but when Seth snickers, “Y’know what I think? He’s so good at baseball because he’s making up for his small dick.’

Everyone has a breaking point.

They had managed to get Harry to hit his, which was an accomplishment but the subject of his sexuality had become more and more tender over the past few months as he really started to understand his dilemma.

Harry drops his bag at his feet, storming towards Seth with his fist coming up, raised and about to swing when their coach appears to stop anything from happening.

Seth is frowning with his hands up in surrender, eyes wide as he realizes Harry was actually mad, “I was just joking around with you. Take a fucking joke.”

“The only joke in this locker room is your baseball abilities,” Harry snarls back, it was quite the insult coming from their captain and Seth's face drops even more than before.

“Styles, hit the road,” Coach Greggs orders, pointing towards the exit of the lock room with a serious expression - disappointment in his star player’s behavior.

When Harry gets home, he bypasses his mum and sister without even a hello before he’s running upstairs to his room and slamming the door shut.

He hates feeling like this.

Like he didn’t even know who he was.

How difficult could it be to figure out what or who you’re attracted to?

He was trying to convince himself he wasn’t broken, he knew all his body parts worked, it wasn’t anything but pure mental blockage.

Thinking about having someone lay next to him in his bed, they’re kissing, taking off clothes - Harry likes the idea of that.

However, it’s not just anyone, it’s not a random hookup.

He imagines it being someone he’s in love with, he’s so fucking fond of, and they know each other so intimately - its just them in their little world, no one else had this experience but them together.

But that doesn’t make any sense.

That’s not a thing.

Harry always felt normal beside this but this was major.

This was detrimental that he figured out what his issue was or he would never have a partner, get married, have kids.

Sure, he'd probably be a successful baseball player but may be the oldest virgin on this earth if he didn't shake this feeling.

Harry decides that same night that he's going to go against his instincts and just ask a girl to the dance - maybe once he put himself out there it will change.

And as Harry was thinking about it, he wouldn't necessarily be against asking a boy either but he's not sure he's ready to explore that idea right now.

He didn't feel excited at the aspect of having a date but instead just a sad relief that his teammates won't bother him anymore.

It felt lonely and isolating.

Harry brings flowers the next day, he knows which girl he wants to ask, Yazmin - he knew she had a crush on him and she was nice, not overly concerned with what others thought of her.

The other reason he is choosing her is because she is one of the many who had made it extremely obvious that she would instantly say yes to him if he asked and he was really not trying to get rejected either.

He feels bad he's not very enthusiastic when she accepts and draws him into a massive hug with her face buried in his neck.

To avoid coming off as rude, he hugs her back until it becomes too much for him and he's pulling back with a forced smile.

The lunchroom is filled with envious glares from other girls who had either been dropping hints to Harry that they wanted to go with him or they'd be too nervous to be forward and are boiling with envy.

Yazmin begins to talk about colors, her dress, everything that people should be looking forward to for the event.

Harry...well, he was just hoping that after he asked her and she accepted that he would feel something, anything towards her whether it was a bit of fondness or admiration.

There wasn’t a question that she was pretty, her long thick black curls that fell down her back, her warm brown eyes, and wide smile.

But there was nothing, absolutely nothing that was attracting him to her at this moment as she babbled on about cool versus warm tones.

After baseball practice, he wanders in to his mum and sister sitting at the dinner table - just beginning their meal as they chat.

When he drops his backpack and duffle bag near the entryway and joins them - he's tired from all the drills and doesn't say anything more than 'hi' as he begins digging in.

"Mrs. Fields told me today that you asked Yazmin to the dance," Anne smiles with bright eyes, she was proud that he was putting himself out there - she worried about him.

Harry feels his stomach churn, he's short when he replies, not looking up from his plate, "Yeah."

"I'm so happy for you, this is going to be so exciting," Anne says before taking a sip of her tea and patting his hand.

"She's pretty too," Gemma adds to the conversation, "I think you guys are going to make a cute couple."

"I'm not dating her," Harry says sharply, using a bit more force to stab at his vegetables, "It's just an invite to a stupid dance. That's it."

"I know, dear. It's just that we haven’t seen you interested in any girls at your school and I want you to enjoy your high school experience-"

"Can I not enjoy high school without a girlfriend? Is me not being not a star athlete enough?" Harry is getting loud which isn't like him to every raise his voice at his mother, "Why does everyone fucking care? I just want to be left the fuck alone about it!"

With that, Harry is slamming down his silverware, snatching his backpack off the floor, and storming up to his room with the door shutting and the lock being flicked.

Harry doesn't come out of his room that night and refuses to speak more than a few words to them through the door.

The next morning when Harry comes down for school, dressed and ready to go, Anne tries to smooth over the situation.

She didn't know what was going on with her son and that was a new uncomfortable feeling for her - usually he was open about everything with her.

Anne didn't know what she said that had triggered the response he'd given and despite how much she wanted to talk to him about it, she knew that she shouldn't force him.

"Harry," Anne speaks up when he steps into the kitchen to make his morning protein drink, " I want to talk about last night."

"There's nothing to talk about, s'fine," He brushes off stiffly as he reaches for one of his shaker bottles and container of protein mix.

"There is. I clearly upset you last night," Anne's voice is soft and cautious, "I'm sorry. I love no matter if you want to date or not, I'm proud and excited for you no ma-"

"There's nothing wrong with me!" Harry bites back as he tries to scoop out the powder, hands shaking with some strong emotion, and it spills onto the countertop.

"I didn't say there was," Anne furrows her brow, she felt like they were on two difficult wavelengths and not really speaking the same language - having two different conversations.

"Shouldn't everyone care that I'm lined up to go pro or that with all this training, I still get straight A's," Harry scoffs as he pours the water and shakes it harshly, "Why is everyone so focused on who I'm going to sleep with?"

And with that, he's grabbing his stuff and leaving the house - Anne stunned as she sits at the breakfast nook unsure of how an innocent conversation at dinner has led to an ongoing tense back and forth with her son.

Yazmin is all over him and Harry is quickly realizing that him inviting her to the dance was also interpreted as him asking her to be his girlfriend.

But when she sat down next to him at lunch, her hand moving to intertwine with his - he didn't push her off but instead could only think about the whole lunch period about how he didn't want to be holding hands with her.

However, he noticed that all of his friends had their girlfriends cuddled up on them too and seemed to enjoy it when their girl curled into them or kissed their cheeks.

He played along.

In the locker room, after practice, well Harry wishes he could skip changing and go home because he was starting to not enjoy this time around his teammates.

"Yazmin, man," Hunter laughs as he sits on the bench to kick off his cleats, "It's no surprise you wait until the last minute to ask a girl out and you pick the hottest girl at school."

Harry shrugs as he shoves his jersey into his duffle, shoulders already tensing because of the conversation topic, "Yeah, she's nice.”

"Nice? You mean has nice tits," Luke adds and the other boys howl loudly as they mock breasts with their hands coming up their chests, "She's got huge ones. Let me know how they look when you get her topless."

Harry shakes his head, face turned away towards his locker- even though his teammates are being pigs, he wishes he could relate in a way.

He hadn't even looked at her chest or maybe he had but it didn't elicit any type of sexual response that made him want to get her naked.

It seemed like every other guy in the room had the identical response except him - normal teenage boys cared about boobs, really no matter who they belonged to.

"Yeah, I saw Casey's pair last night," Josh adds with a cocky smirk, "Let me touch 'em and everything."

Luckily, that conversation distracts the boys enough to lay off of Harry - now to focused on Josh's experience with his girlfriend.

They don't even notice when he slips out the door to head home as they all joke around and share stories.

Life was just..

Harry was miserable.

He dreaded going to school because of all the eyes on him, the fact that Yazmin wanted to be with him every free second, or his friends who were always talking about something girl or sex-related.

At practice, he got hounded by his teammates about the same things everyday and had to hear tales that he didn't assimilate to in the slightest.

At home, he was now in this weird limbo where he knows his mom and sister feel like they're walking on eggshells because of his moodiness that he refuses to talk about.

The ideas of relationship and sex were closing in on him from every angle and he just didn't want to talk about it.

He wished that when he was born someone just smacked a label on his forehead that said 'gay', 'straight', 'asexual', something so that he didn't have to figure this out himself.

Why was it so fucking difficult?

He felt broken, like his brain wasn't functioning correctly because he couldn't even decipher his own thoughts or feelings.

He'd always felt like this in a way but now that he is at the age where people begin to get into relationships and have sex - it's in the forefront of his mind.

He just has to get through the dance with Yazmin, that's it - he at least has to try to see this through with dating her.

Harry knows he's been pulling away from his family too but he doesn't feel like he's able to help it - he can’t explain what’s going on and he doesn’t want to be shunned by them too.

Because he feels like if he talked to them he'll blurt out, "I might not be straight" or "I don't know what's going on with me."

He used to think that he thought about it a lot but ever since he asked Yazmin to the dance - the only time he doesn't think about it is when he's on the field or working out.

Baseball is his only escape.

When all the boys are going out after the game, the weekend before the dance, they were all inviting their girlfriends to join them.

He didn't want to be an asshole so he knew it was only right to invite Yazmin too - he didn't want her to feel left out.

When they're all in the pizza shop, it's nearly ten at night, and they're all still sipping on Coke and eating pizza after winning the game.

Yazmin is sat next to him in the long booth, their thighs smooshed together, and she wraps her arm around his - resting her head on his shoulder.

It's a nice gesture and Harry feels guilty that he wants to push her away so he lets it happen and tries not to think too much about it.

The conversation turns into the afterparty for prom, they were renting a cabin in a nearby state park, and were planning to drink and have a campfire.

Harry had agreed to go but he really hadn't thought of the implications until Harry is driving Yazmin home that night and she seems nervous in the passenger seat.

"Is everything okay?" Harry asks as he navigates out of the pizza's shop's parking lot and towards her house.

"Yeah. It-It's just, are you excited about the dance? You weren't very talkative in there," She points out, she seems a bit disappointed but hides it behind a small smile.

Harry sighs, he doesn't know how to address it, so he lies, "I am excited, really. It's just been crazy with baseball. I'm sorry it didn't seem like I was in there. Just tired, I guess."

Yazmin perks up immediately, "It's okay, I just wanted to check. I'm used to you being really outspoken and talkative so I was just making sure."

Harry moves his hand over to her, resting it on the lower part of her thigh, near her knee, and squeezes, "It's gonna be fun."

"I can't wait for you to see me in my dress," She replies, her smile widened with his touch as she moves to put her hand over his.

"I'm sure you'll be gorgeous," He fake smiles, keeping his eyes on the road, they're nearly to her house and he presses the gas pedal a little harder.

As they pull up, Yazmin takes a deep breath before asking, "Are you going to bring protection to the cabin?"

Harry gives her a puzzled look, confused for a second by what she means by protection and she grimaces when she realizes he's confused.

"Condoms? I'm on birth control but I want to make sure we're being safe," She adds sheepishly, looking down at her hands.

How was she already talking about sex when they haven't even went further than kissing?

He didn't think he'd be expected to get intimate with someone this fast in a relationship.

"Oh, er," Harry stammers, just as embarrassed as her, his throat felt tight," Yeah, I'll definitely bring some. If that's what you uh, if that's what you want to do."

For objectively being the most popular boy in school, it was really quite ironic how backwards he was compared to the other people in his grade.

He was eighteen, everyone already assumes that he lost his virginity by this point, and it shows - he wonders if she can tell.

"I'd like to," Yazmin responds before leaning over to kiss him, she parts her lips and Harry matches her but it doesn't feel as nice as he thinks it's supposed to.

They kiss for a while in the car that night until his lips are puffy and swollen but Harry doesn't even remotely feel a twinge of any arousal.

As he drives home that night, he punches his steering wheel a few times- letting out frustrated screams into the car because he just wants to be like everyone else.

The actual event of prom goes fine.

It's easy smiling for pictures, eating at a fancy restaurant, and then going to the hotel where they all dance around to the music without anything being too serious.

The issue comes when they get to the cabin and everyone is starting to disappear from the campfire up to their own bedrooms with their significant others.

Harry waits as long as possible, until the flames legitimately start to fizzle out - he hadn't even touched any alcohol, neither had Yazmin.

She was getting impatient as she begins to wrap their hands together and kiss at his neck before finally asking, "Ready to go to our room?"

Harry agrees because he can't stay out here forever, he had bought condoms even though he was pretty sure they wouldn't be using them.

He bought them in the hopes that maybe, magically that once his body knew he had the oppurtunity to have sex that he would be interested enough to do so.

When they're up in the bedroom, Yazmin is on him, her lips finding his and kissing like they were that night in the car.

He can tell that she's nervous too but she seems much more excited and eager as she tugs off his shirt and runs her hands over his stomach before going for his athletic shorts.

She kneels down and Harry has to squeeze his eyes shut because when she pulls down his shorts - he's not at all hard.

It doesn't seem to deter her, she leans down to begin to stimulate him, and nothing happens as she does it - it’s not those amazing fireworks that his friends talk about.

He knows there’s a silent tear slipping from his eye when she finally pulls back when she realizes something isn't right.

"I'm sorry," Harry says with the most embarrassment he's ever felt in his life, "I'm- I'm sorry, Yazmin."

Yazmin pulls his shorts back up for him before standing in front of him, she puts her hand to his jaw and says quietly, "Look at me."

Harry blinks his eyes open, trying to hold in his tears as she looks at him with a concerned expression.

"Did I make you uncomfortable? I didn't mean to force you to do -" She begins to apologize profusely, getting upset herself.

It snaps him out of his own mind and his voice is firm when he interrupts her, "Hey, no. No, you didn't do anything wrong, I promise. It's me, you're-you're wonderful and pretty. It-s me."

Yazmin’s face washes with relief as he speaks, she reaches to take his hands but it's more of a friendly gesture.

"Are you..." She trails off, not wanting to make any assumptions about him.

"I don't know," He says honestly, choking up a bit on the words, "I'm really trying to figure it out and I just feel broken. This proves I am."

"You're not broken, Harry," Yazmin smiles as she shakes her head like he’s silly, "You're just figuring it out and that's okay."

"I know you don't owe me anything after all this but I'd really appreciate it if you didn't mention this to anyone," Harry mumbles as he laughs a big self-deprecating.

"My lips are sealed. If anyone asks, we had amazing hot sex," She giggles as she walks over to her bag to pull out pajamas, "Want to watch a movie?"

And his prom night actually wasn't as awful as it started out, Yazmin and him laid in the massive king bed and watched a few older horror movies and made fun of the bad acting.

At some point they drift off to sleep, when they wake up, they're not necessarily cuddled together but Yazmin's arm is slung over his stomach.

He thinks to himself, this isn't too bad, and just that little thought alone makes him feel like he may not be as lost of a cause as he sometimes feels.

Yazmin and him stayed friends after they 'broke up' and she never spoke a word about what happened that night and to her, he'll always be eternally grateful that kind, understanding people exist.

The summer before college, he realized that he needed to actually take the time to explore his sexuality through research instead of continuing a pity party for himself.

He could narrow down that he wasn't entirely straight because the idea of him being in love with someone other than a female didn't sound obscure or unappealing to him.

He didn’t think it mattered who he fell in love with, it wouldn’t be purely based on their gender.

The idea of sex didn't repusle him, he wanted to have sex and he knew that he wasn't asexual.

He wanted to have a partner and have sex.

That's when it stuck with him.

Everytime he thought about having sex with someone, it was a partner, someone he was in a strong romantic relationship with - but he didn't think that was a specific sexuality.

One day, he's watching some reality television show, and when they're introducing the contestants - someone on the screen identifies themselves as demisexual.

He'd never heard that term before and he curiously puts it into the search engine on his phone to figure out the definition.

That's when he reads the definition that changes it all.

"Demisexuality is a sexual orientation in whcih a person feels sexually attracted to someone only after they've developed a close emotion with them."

Harry felt like he was having an epiphany and that the world fell still for a moment - it was like finding the puzzle piece he had been missing for years of his life.

It finally fucking made sense.

It made so much sense that he started crying, full on sobbing as he held his head with disbelief that something clicked.

Anne, who was in the kitchen, making dinner, hears the sniffles and rushes in, concerned when she finds her son crying which was completely out of the norm.

"Harry, honey," Anne coos softly, sitting down next to him and brushing his hair off his forehead before wrapping her arm around his shoulders, "What's gotten you so upset?"

"M'not upset, mom," Harry chuckles as she tries to wipe away some of his tears with the sleeve of her shirt, "I just-, I don't know how you'll react when I tell you."

"Is it bad?" Anne asks worriedl, tugging him in closer like he was still a little boy and not a big, tall athlete that was way larger than her.

"I-I'm, it's about me," Harry stutters, his thoughts now racing for a different reason, this wasn't on how he planned to tell his mother any of this but he didn't want to lie to her either.

He wanted to be himself and he wanted his family to know who he is.

"I've been struggling with, erm, who I am for a really really long time," Harry begins, his eyes glued to his feet, "And I..I finally figured it out."

"I'll love you no matter what you're going to tell me, Harry Edward,” Anne says firmly, tilting his chin so that their eyes meet and he can tell how serious she is.

"I'm pansexul and demisexual," Harry breathes out, saying it into the unvierse for the first time, it felt like a massive weight has been lifted off of his chest, "It means that I am attracted to people regardless of their gender and that I'm only sexually attracted to that person after we established a emotional bond.”

"How long have you known?" Anne asks as she holds him closer.

"I-I've known that I wasn't st-straight for a long time but I-I didn't know what exactly I was until now," Harry stutters out through tears, Anne can't remember the last time she saw her son cry and his face was damp with emotion.

"I am so proud of you," Anne murmurs but her voice was firm and serious, she moves to cup his cheeks until he's making eye contact with her, "So so proud of who you are."

"Y-You're proud of me?" Harry repeats back in a whisper, his heart felt like it was beating fast enough it was going to leap out of his chest.

"Of course I am," She laughs softly, like it was ridiculous that he could think that she wouldn't be filled with pride, "I love you so much. My little boy."

She kisses both of his cheeks before wiping the tears away once more.

Anne isn't expecting it when Harry hugs her tightly, his face tucked into her shoulder as he hides away for a moment.

She rubs his back lightly and just holds him as he sniffles, she hadn't cuddled him like this is so long but he clung to her for a long while as she whispered words of love.

Gemma is the second person that he decides that he needs to come out - he's not as worried about her reaction as his mum but it still wasn't going to be fun for him.

She had gotten home from work and disappeared into her room to most likely working on college homework like she did nearly everyday.

Harry knocks and when she calls for him to come in, he's sheepish as he comes to sit on her bed next to where she has her textbooks splayed out.

"I have something to tell you," Harry starts off after taking a deep inhale of breath, why was he so nervous? It was just Gemma.

But everyone reacts differently, people he think would be supportive of him may not agree with it and give him pushback or worse disown him.

He was nervous because he couldn't lose his sister but he also couldn't stand not living his truth any longer.

"If you took my laptop charger one more time and broke it, I swear to -" She begins with a frown as she closes her book to glare at him.

"No, it's...well," Harry begins to trip over what he wants to say and now maybe isn't the right time, maybe he should think it through more than this, "Forget about it."

Gemma realizes quickly that something isn't right, she reaches out to grab his arm and tug him back down, "What's going on? Is everything okay?"

"I have something that I want to tell you," He reiterates with a sigh, "I just don't know how you'll feel about it."

Harry explains what he had explained earlier to his mother to her, she listens intently and doesn't try to crack any jokes while he's speaking.

After he's done with what he feels like is rambling, he hesitantly looks up to meet her gaze.

"How did you think I would feel?" Is the first thing she asks.

Harry's brow furrows in confusion, "What do you mean?"

"You said you were worried about how I would feel about you telling me," Gemma explains from before he told her.

"Ju-Just that you'd be disappointed in me," Harry hates that he's been crying so much lately but he begins to sniffle.

"Oh, Harry," Gemma titters, swiping her school things off the bed so she can drag him into a hug, just like his mother did, "I would never be disappointed in you for being who you are. I love you. I'm happy that you finally feel like you've figured it out."

"I hope I find someone," Harry chuckles, wiping his face on his hoodie, "I hope I find someone who will understand, that I'll be able to fall in love with and have a normal relationship."

"It will happen," Gemma hums as she pulls back, "Just like with you figuring this out. It won't happen overnight. Now get out, I have to study."

It really doesn't happen overnight or anytime soon.

He will say that getting in to college and knowing his sexuality even if he hadn't been with anyone had let him slip back into the cocky role that he was used to.

Harry had no problem flirting with girls and guys at frat parties to keep up appearances - even though he wasn't interested in sleeping with them.

It kept his teammates from questioning him because when they saw him at parties, giving a girl his million dollar smile and telling her she's cute - they figured he was sleeping with them.

He didn't enjoy going to parties because it was only fun to fake flirt for a little bit before he wanted to leave because people were trying to get him alone in a bedroom.

Luckily, baseball and sponsorships took up a majority of him time so he wasn't expected at many frat celebrations with how rigorous his workouts and training schedule were.

Tonight though, he didn't have an excuse to not come because they had three days off that weekend.

Everyone convinced him to come, it wasn't a bad time really but he couldn't drink because he'd be kicked off the team if he got hit with an underage drinking fine.

(They definitely wouldn't kick their star player off the team but he would be in deep shit and would much rather avoid that.)

Harry had been trying to get to know people on campus, trying to create the emotional attachment that he was searching for but it wasn't easy.

It felt fucking impossible.

He learned very quickly that he couldn 't just will it to magically happen and that he has issues building those bonds with anyone.

There was a girl named Halee who he had been talking to for the past few weeks, they met in one of his statistics classes and he tried to make an effort with her.

He took her out to dinner twice, listened to her talk for ages, and he waited to feel the spark after consistently seeing her for a month.

There was nothing there.

She was at the party tonight, they hadn't gone any further than making out because Harry didn't want to force himself to do that.

Halee manages to get him alone in his frat bedroom later that night, stating that she needed to talk to him alone, and he knows it’s bad that he’s hoping she wants to break up.

But when his bedroom door shut, her lips were on his and she was pushing him back towards the bed - the exact opposite of what he wanted.

When he falls backwards onto his bed, she's crawling on top of him to straddle him, never taking her lips from his as her thighs come onto either side of him.

Harry's hands come to her hips, knowing he should try to enjoy it but also that it was no use despite how hard she grinded her hips into his.

After a few minutes, she pulls back and palms at him - completely expecting to find him hard and ready for her but...nothing.

He's not hard.

Halle gives him a confused look, she'd never had an issue with a college guy’s libido before, and she knew she was attractive.

Harry can feel his face turning red with shame but manages to give her a reasonable lie, "I think it's just because I've drank so much. I'm pretty wasted."

That seems to satisfy her concern because she giggles and drags him back to the party, promising that they can try again when they haven't been drinking so much.

However, he knows that's not going to happen because he fully plans on sending her an 'im sorry, its just not working out' text tomorrow morning.

Harry doesn't stay at the party much longer before he's retreating up to his room and locking the door to shut everyone out.

Sure, he's become more acepting of his own sexuality but it doesn't mean that it doesn't fucking suck that he can't just have a casual hook up.

The fact is the only sexual interactions he's had are where girls are coming onto him, he has to make an excuse or they'll see he's not physically into it which makes everything ten times worse.

Harry feels that sinking feeling coming back that he remembers well from his senior year of high school.

He remembers thinking that because he finally identified what sexuality he was that it was the code to cracking his life long struggle.

He wonders often whether he's truly waiting to meet the right person or if it's just something that is wrong with him.

The fake flirting, turning people down who come onto him, dating people he has no real interest in.

At some point it doesn't feel worth it to try to find his person , he wonders if there just isn't a person for him and that's a really lonely thought.

(Take The Hint) - One Shot

This girl makes him want to scream.

He didn't mean to break her fucking ipad and she has the nerve to run to the school newspaper and write an article about him.

He had apologized when it happened but she hadn't been willing to accept it, that wasn't his fault.

Harry had never had such a critique in a school paper before and he wasn't going to stand for it.

He doesn't know why he feels the need to go back and forth with this journalist from the paper but he can't stay away.

After their back and forths, he finds himself bringing her food a few times to the newspaper's office after he gets done with a long day of training.

Harry's intruigued that this girl doesn't seem to give a fuck about who he is and really hasn't given him the time of day.

But he finds himself looking forward to picking up a sandwich for her so that she can try to refuse it and give him a shy smile when he doesn't take no for an answer.

It sounds a bit dumb, Harry has spent so much of his time worried about finding the right person or building this emotional bond that he fucking misses it when it's right in front of him.

When YN walks out onto the field that day, leans over the fence and connects their lips for the first time - his insides feel like they're going to combust.

His stomach feels warm with excitement, he's eager to kiss her back, he wants to kiss her back and not stop for anything.

When she pulls away, he wants to pull her back, and join their lips again - he's never wanted to do that before.

Then when she asks, "Are you going to ask me out or what?"

Holy fucking hell.

He has never said yes sooner.

Harry was an idiot.

He didn't see that their back and forth over the past few months (even if a few of those were fights) was flirting and building this god damn connection.

It didn't seem like it at the time because in the past, he had to make conscious efforts to build relationships.

It happened naturally with her, he didn't have to think about 'wanting' to kiss her, forcing time together - he wanted to do all those things without having to plan it.

As he's walking back to the frat from practice that night, his mind is racing because he thinks he might have finally done it.

He found his person.

Harry didn't want to give his hopes up but he just hasn't felt like this before - he's had hundreds of opportunities with the smartest, most attractive people and he's never gotten that warm feeling in his stomach around any of them.

He was thinking about the next time he would get to kiss her and really kiss her - it made him feel something new but it was thrilling.

Harry has never felt more nervous in his life, he'd changed his outfit at least five times, and fluffed his hair a hundred more.

It was funny, outside looking in, despite how cocky Harry appeared to everyone - he really wasn't like that at all.

He hoped that YN would like him and he was worried because even though she forgave him, they really didn’t get off on the right foot.

There was another anxious thought bubbling up, what if he's getting too excited and it is another relationship that falls flat.

Harry nearly wants to back out because he doesn't think he can be let down like that again - he just wants to be loved and love someone.

They're set to meet at a small italian restaurant off of campus, Lorenzo's, and Harry arrives first.

Shet not there yet but he's also a few minutes early, he's trying to talk himself out of a nervous breakdown when a group approaches him, a group of middle-aged men who want to talk to the Harry Styles.

Harry smiles politely, answering questions about the upcoming games, and what he thought of their last win.

When they finally bid him goodbye after a few minutes, the group disperse and waiting patiently is YN with a small smile.

"You're really popular, huh? The Harry Styles," She greets, it was teasing but not in a mean way more curious than anything.

And Harry's mouth felt dry because she looked fucking beautiful like the prettiest thing he's ever seen.

In a form-fitting orange dress, her skin tone was complimenting the vibrant color and her curves were other worldly. ***

Harry knows, absolutely knows he wasn't just trying to make this work, he was undoubtedly attractive to her.

It was the fact that he wanted to see what lay beneath the dress, the way her breasts sat made it hard to control his gaze.

More importantly, her smile was wide and heartbreakingly gorgeous as she stared a bit confused, waiting for him to say something.

"You are gorgeous," Harry manages, it wasn't a line, it was the truth, "Sorry, you took my breath away for a moment if I'm being honest."

YN lets out a shy giggle, her hands smoothing the sides of her dress as a nervous tick, as she steps closer to him.

"You don't look too bad yourself, quite handsome actually," YN compliments, reaching out for Harry's hand so he can guide them inside.

The cocky attitude drops over dinner, well it never appeared in the first place, and YN was appreciative of that.

YN was intelligent, funny, kind, and quite honestly, everything Harry's ever wanted as she snorts out her drink at a dumb joke he makes.

She kicks off heels halfway through the appetizer and rests her foot on his thigh like they've known each other for ages.

He can't help but reach down and squeeze her ankle, fingers dancing along the ridge of the bone, and laughing when he tickles her enough to make her squeak.

For the first time, it doesn't feel forced, he doesn't have to remember that he should want to touch his date.

Harry is interested in everything she has to say from her experience on the newspaper to how she accidentally broke into a museum while she was in high school.

He finds himself laughing genuinely, not counting down the minutes until the date is over, in fact, he doesn't want it to end.

"You're actually a nice guy," YN murmurs towards the end of dinner when their plates are near empty, "Who would have guessed."

Harry winces at the dig, putting his silverware down and looking at her seriously, "I am sorry about how I treated you. I was being a douche. I don't always feel like I have a lot going for me and baseball is what I'm good at and to have that article written was a hit on my ego."

It was the most honest he's ever been with someone but he didn't even think twice about revealing his most vulnerable thoughts to her.

YN's face twist in confusion, "What do you mean you don't have a lot going for you? You have a guarantee in going pro, you have a ton of friends, and you have no shortages of girls around you."

Harry knew he wasn't ready to delve into his sexuality conversation with her, he hasn't ever talked to anyone outside of his family and Niall about it.

Instead of admitting what really makes him feel low - his sexuality and lack of relationships, he just shrugs and says, "I don't know. It's just..It's not alway easy."

"I imagine, it's a lot of pressure on you at all times. Everyone watching your every move," She agrees, her eyes are soft and she can tell Harry's thinking about something.

She doesn't force him to tell her, instead she reaches across the table for his hand and takes it in hers - but she doesn't let go.

Throughout dessert, they hold hands across the table until Harry is feeding YN a piece of strawberry cheesecake and it ends up on her lips instead of in her mouth.

"You did that on purpose," YN laughs, her tongue peeking out to wipe the sweetness away but misses the corner of her lips.

"Missed a spot," Harry chuckles, he leans over to wipe it off with his thumb and when he does, she takes his thumb in her mouth - just for a mere moment to lick it off with a cheeky smile.

Harry feels himself actually start to harden in his pants and he almost wants to panic because that's never happened before - even when girls have tried way more sexy things to get his attention.

It had been a simple but intimate gesture, it wasn't even groundbreaking to YN, she went back to eating her gelato without another thought about the interaction.

Harry had to will himself to calm down, his mind racing to her plump lips and the way it wrapped around his thumb.

If he had any doubt that YN was his person, it was completely gone now - he hadn't even known her long but to say he was infatuated with her was an understatement.

He couldn't find one thing about her that he didn't like from her beauty to her intellect to the way she giggles with a little snort when something was extra funny.

It felt like his world was shaping to revolve around hers but that scared him on the same end that he hadn't known her that long - their emotional connection was just that strong.

After the date, Harry offers to walk her home because she lives in the campus dorms - just like at dinner, very soon into the walk she takes off her heels and shoves them in her purse.

Harry doesn't know if he should make a move, this was all so fucking new, and he felt like he was years behind on what he should know, basics about dates.

YN wasn't hesitant or coy, she quickly intertwined their hands as they walk, bumping shoulders as she points out where her classes are at certain buildings and what she hates about some of her awful professors.

Harry wants to cry because it's just so nice to hold someones fucking hand, that's all he's wanted for so long.

When they arrive at her building, YN digs out her keycard, giving him a pouty expression, "I'm sad our date’s over. I really did have a good time."

"I had an amazing time," Harry tells her seriously, "Will you go out with me again?"

YN squints up at him, with puckered lips, "I'll have to think about it."

Harry's heart drops.

"Oh my god," YN bursts out laughing, "Your face. Of course, I'll go on another date with you, I had fun."

"S'not funny," Harry mumbles grumply as she giggles at his reaction.

"I'm sorry, I'll make it up to you," YN hums, stepping into his space and leaning up until their lips meet.

Harry's frozen for a moment, it feels like sparks, like everything finally makes sense but he doesn't realize that he actually physically froze because YN is pulling back.

"Shit, I'm sorry I though-" She begins to apologize profusely, thinking she read the situation wrong.

Harry takes a deep breath, channeling his confidence, and he steps forward into her space now - hands coming to cup her face and bring their lips together passionately.

Their lips move in perfect synchronization, his tongue swiping against her lips until she opens, and he can get entrance.

Her hand comes up to his neck, keeping him close as they kiss, it feels like his first real kiss, and he can't get enough.

When they finally pull back for air, her lips are swollen and she has a starry-eyed smile on her face.

"Goodnight, Harry," YN murmurs softly, pecking his lips one last time before swiping her card and going into her building.

Fucking hell, he was gone for her.

He could not stop thinking about her.

Her smile, her laugh, the way her eyes squinted when she was teasing him - this had to be what being in love felt like.

Could it be this easy?

As soon as he gets home, he sends her a text.

Thanks for giving me a chance. I really had a great time. Are you free next Friday?

It barely takes any time for her to respond and he finds his lips turning down at her response.

Are you fucking with me?

He decides to take the more cautious route, reading his text conversation, and he doesn't think he said anything wrong.

No? Did I offend you??

Yes.

As soon as he receives the message he's typing out an apology for whatever he might have said to trigger her to be upset but right before he hits send, another text pops in.

Offended you're not asking me to hang out sooner.

Harry totally does not squeal like a school girl as he smiles stupidly at his phone for the next few moments before remebering to actually text back.

I have a game tomorrow and Sunday but we could hang out Monday night x

They agree on that.

When the next day comes, he feels more energized than ever to do good on the field today - he always thrived but YN was really boosting his confidence and overall happiness.

He struts on to the field, he always displayed arrogance on the field no matter how he was feeling on the inside - he wanted to intimidate people and let them know that he's the best.

At the mound, he kicks the dirt a bit and adjusts his hat in a little ritual he always did before scanning the crowd - it was always a full house in the stadiums because of him.

His eyes do a quick skim of the crowd but stop when he's sees YN sitting in the stands without her iPad or notepad - she's sitting with a friend.

Harry's heart leaps as he gives a dimply smile that was exclusively for and he tips his cap towards her in greeting.

She blows him an exaggerated kiss and a small wave as the announcers begin the game.

Harry doesn't know if he's ever had a game that good - he had been on fire the whole time, multiple strikeouts, a home-run, and overall good plays.

When the game’s over after the post-game interview and compliments, instead of heading straight to the showers, he wants to talk to YN but she's no longer in the stands.

He tries not to think too hard about it as he goes into the locker room to shower, in a noticeable less than happy mood.

Harry's actually the last one out, he drags his feet getting into the showers, and lets the hot water just hit against his sore muscles.

By the time he gets out, wrapping a towel around his waist, and stepping over to his duffel - he nearly screams when someone appears in the locker-room.

"What's taking you so long? I've been waiting out there for ages," YN complains with a raised eyebrow, a smirk on her face when she's met with his strong, damp chest - his pec twitches.

"Er," Harry stammers as he stares wide eyed at her, "I didn't think you were waiting for me."

YN shakes her head, "Why wouldn't I? Am I being too subtle about dropping hints that I like you?"

Harry’s chest seizes because he doesn't want her to think that, "No no, it's me. M'sorry I'm fucking this up. I just, yeah..."

I just can't tell you why yet.

Be patient with me.

"I know you've been with a lot of people, okay? I'm not here to use you and lose you. I want to see where this goes," YN seems frustrated as she explains herself.

"I do too. M'sorry," He apologizes again, the opposite of the cocky asshole she met, "I'm really, really into you."

And you're the first person I've said that to without lying.

"Yeah?" Her words are quiet, bashful as she glances down at her feet for a moment, like she wanted to hear the affirmations from him.

"Of course, you're gorgeous, smart, out of my league, if I'm being honest," He tells her with a raspy chuckle.

"I think you have it backwards," YN murmurs but she's walking towards him, and just like yesterday, kisses him fiercely.

God, he's never going to get tired of this.

He instantly reciprocates her advance, hand moving to the back of her head to cradle her skull and keep her close.

His stomach muscles twitch when her hand comes to his chest, rubbing up and down his abdominal definition, and thumb teasing at his happy trail.

It indescribable how just the simple touch is turning him on, he can feel himself harden at the movement and he can't help but push his tongue into her mouth.

They get startled when a janitor steps into the lockeroom, a tired look on his face when he spots them, "I'm locking up. Get lost, kids."

YN giggles as Harry flushed with embarrassment before she's leaving him to get changed and waiting outside for him to walk her home.

The next three weeks were an absolute whirlwind of hanging out in YN's dorm room cuddled together on the tiny bed, watching movies in his room in the frat, Harry stopping by the newspaper office constantly after practice to make sure she ate and then walkingher home, and then on the weekends they were going on dates and YN was coming to watch his games.

He knew that he was in love, he didn't care what anyone had to say about a certain amount of time it took or it was too soon.

Harry had found his person.

The puzzle piece that was missing his whole entire life was wrapped up in a gorgeous girl who bullied him, cuddled him, and gave him attitude when she didn't get her way.

He couldn't imagine anyone better.

There was one major issue, Harry had yet to tell her about his sexuality or the fact that he was a virgin.

He didn't blame her for making assumptions that he had a high body count with the way he flirted at parties - that was in fact the appearance that he was trying to give off even though it was further from the truth.

Harry wanted to tell her but when revealing that he was demisexual that was also telling her that he was head over heels for her.

And even though YN seemed nothing but understanding and accepting, it's different when you're in a relationship with the person.

She doesn't know whether it would matter if he was pansexual, if it would freak her out that he wasn't soley attracted to females.

As much fun as he was having, enjoying this new relationship, there was a lot of anxiety - he hadn't felt this much weight on his chest since high school with Yazmin and prom.

They hadn't gone further than kisses but it wasn't because of lack of arousal, he was so attractive to her that it didn't make sense.

However, up to this point, she hadn't pushed to do anything further than that and he wasn't ready to take the first step either.

It's a standoff until it's not.

YN and Harry are in his frat, they prefered it there for his queen size bed and he had a bigger television that they could binge watch shows on.

It was after a mid-week game, they had done exceptional, and Harry was truly convinced that YN was his good luck charm.

It was late, they both had class tomorrow but YN was sleeping over for the first time because Harry couldn't part with her.

They were in the middle of watching Great British Bake-Off and critiquing their bakes like either of them could do anything close to as good.

YN is tucked into his side, head of his chest but she squirms until she's looking up at him with a frown.

"Whassit?" Harry rumbles as he blinks heavily, his hand coming up to brush her hair out of her face - he couldn't get over how fucking pretty she was.

"Didn't kiss me enough today," YN huffs like she just realized the problem, her bottom lip pouted out.

"Didn't give you enough kisses, huh?" Harry repeats with a raised brow, his thumb coming to pull at her lower lip, "I haven't been very good to you, have I?"

"Absolutely awful boyfriend," YN agrees and everytime she refers to him as that, his stomach flutters.

"Or maybe I've just given it to you too much so now you're a demanding lil' thing," He hums but he's pulling her up so that their lips meet.

Harry can't help that he gets hard everytime they make out, maybe it’s a rookie thing or maybe most guys that's normal for - he wasn't sure.

But Harry and YN had never acknowledged it and as weird as it sounded - it felt good to get hard even if there wasn't relief at that time because it’s more pleasure and arousal than he's ever felt.

There was no way he wasn’t truly fucked - this girl held everything in her hands, she had so much fucking control over it and she didn't have one fucking clue.

YN's hand is rested on his stomach but at some point she moves it, she moves it right over his bulge in his nike running shorts, and palms at him.

Harry moans embarrassingly loud and sucks in a gasp at the sensation of someone else touching him like this for the first time.

YN pulls back startled like she hurt him and begins to apologize because of his visceral reaction but Harry joins their lips needily before murmuring, "Please baby, don't stop."

"Okay, whatever you want," She simpers quietly, her lips coming to his neck to kiss and nip at the skin as she feels out the shape of him over his thin shorts - thick and ready for her.

Harry is trying to keep his eyes open but it feels so new and euphoric that his lids are heavy as she thumbs over the sensitive tip.

"Take your shirt off," YN requests, not taking her hand off as he rustles hurriedly to get it over his head, "Slow down, we're not in a rush."

It was lightly teasing but it made insecurities tick a bit because he didn't want to embarass himself in his first sexual experience.

His stomach is sucking in at every other touch, his butterfly tattoo dancing as his ribcage outlines against his skin.

Her hand lazily moves upwards again but is taking the liberty of dipping into his shorts and briefs.

He twitches when her hand wraps around him, thumb tracing along the vein on the underside before circling at his already wet tip.

"M'gonna take my time with you," YN promises as she helps him slip the rest of his clothes off, her eyes locking with where he's hard for her.

He feels self-conscious, the first person to see this part of him in this intimate way - it was the most vulnerable he ever felt.

"You're so pretty," She murmurs happily as she begins to give him light strokes, "Makes sense why you have big dick energy. You're massive."

He has to clench his teeth to avoid coming at her words because it was all too much as he kept his hips on the mattress as she twists and tugs with the perfect amount of pressure.

"I-It feels so good, baby," Harry breathes out, he's on the verge of panting when her hand comes to roll his balls delicately.

"Yeah?" YN muses with a devious smile before she's ducking down to lick at the swollen head before suckling at it.

"Fuck, m'sorry," Harry groans as he feels his orgasm start, "S'good, you're so good. Fuck, you're amazin, sweetheart."

He can tell YN is a bit taken aback by his lack of stamina but she swallows as he pulses in her mouth.

When she sits back up, Harry is trying to catch his breath, "I'm so sorry. I just-"

"Stop apologizing," YN tells him firmly, leaning over to pepper kisses over his chest and tummy, "That was perfect. You look so handsome when you come."

Harry preens at the praise, he knows she’s probably just making sure he doesn't fell bad but it seemed genuine.

"Let me take care of you," Harry says after a few more moments, he knew his cheeks were flushed and his chest red with a blush of postorgasm haze and embarassment, what a mixture.

"You any good at it?" She jokes as she playfully licks his nipple before moving to take her own shirt off.

Harry freezes, he knows he probably looks like a deer in headlights before quickly wiping it off his face.

He doesn't respond but instead knocks her hands out of the way to pull the shirt over her head himself.

Her breasts were fucking perfect where they sat in a plain black bra with a little lace detailing on the edge of the cups.

Harry didn't know if he would survive this, he felt like a stupid teeanger as his hands were shaking with nerves.

This was more nerve-wracking then when he played in the playoffs for baseball or when a college scout came to watch his game.

He sits up and rearranges them until she's laying on her back and he's on top where he feels like he has a bit more control of the situation.

By some grace of god, YN's bra unlatches with a front clip and when he undoes it, it falls to either side and her tits bounce out.

"Holy shit, darling," Harry huffs out in awe, her nipples were already hard and so fucking pretty.

"What?" YN asks in a mere whisper, when he looks up at her - his heart sinks because he was so focused on himself that he didn't even think about how she might be feeling.

It was obvious that YN was a bit nervous too as he revealed her like he might not like how she looks - she’s squirmy and doesn't look him in the eye.

"How are you so fucking beautiful?" Harry shakes his head in disbelief, moving to cup them and they're soft in grip, warm, and good god, he's in love with them already, "Look at you, s'unfair."

YN lets out a pleased giggle and Harry can't wait any longer, he's fucking down to wrap his lips around one of the buds and suckle as his other hand rolls her other nipple.

"Oo-oh," She gasps out, pushing her chest into him, and he was sure that he wanted to hear her moans of pleasure for the rest of his life.

She was responsive to his touch, whimpering and asking for more through her body language as he switched between them and teased them until they were damp and puffy.

"Please, H. I'm so wet," YN begs as her hips move in frustration, her hand weaving into his hair and scratching at his scalp.

"You're wet for me?" Harry pulls back, their eyes meeting and he couldn't believe - he was turning her on even if he didn't know what the fuck he was doing.

"Stop teasing me," She demands with a pout.

He really wasn't.

Harry felt like he was in a movie in a way.

He dreamed about this for so long.

Being so in love with someone that he would want to have sex with them.

It happened and it was happening right now.

If it didn't feel so good, he wouldn't believe it.

Harry may or may not have utilized the internet to search about how to please a female.

He hadn't wanted to come into this and not be able to return the favor - it wasn't that he was uneducated about sex or didn't know the logistics of how to do it.

He didn't want it to be just okay.

He wants to show her how much he's truly gone for her by making her feel the same pleasure she's give to him.

Harry takes his time kissing down her soft belly, biting at the plush on her hips to make her squeak before he's shimmying her shorts and underwear off.

Harry has never felt so primal in his life when he's met with her mound and puffy folds, glistening with arousal, and he wanted to devour her.

The hesitance is gone as soon as he sees her for the first time.

He's spreading her legs and nuzzling straight in between her folds, lapping at her with excited, eager strokes.

Fuck, she even tasted good.

"Harry, fuck," YN mewls when he finds her clit, it wasn't hard with how swollen and hard it was for him - dragging it between his lips and suctioned it.

Her legs are restless like she wants to close them, her hands balling into the sheets as he relentlessly goes at her.

"Oh my god," She gasps as she bucks upwards, trying to ride his tongue - it was by far the hottest thing that had ever happened to him.

He couldn't believe he was actually doing a good job his first time, he knew she was actually close because he could feel her throbbing and getting wetter for him.

Her hands move to his hair, gripping it to keep him close to her center as she punches her hips up to find the friction she needs - it was beautiful watching her chase her pleasure without any shame.

He wanted to do this with her for the rest of his life and he knew it wasn't just the sex talking at this point.

She was it for him.

His chest swells in pride when she finally tips over the edge, a continuous stream of soft whining moans out of her mouth as her hips slow down and rest back against the bed - her limbs loosening.

Her face was damp with perspiration, long locks stuck to the side of her neck, and her chest was heaving and falling quickly as she tried to catch her breath.

"That was the best orgasm I've ever had," YN murmurs in awe, goading him back up until they’re kissing in short little pecks and he's brushing that sticky hair off her skin, "You're so good at that."

Harry's internally preening with the compliment, thrilled that he was able to get her off the first time ever doing something like this.

It was dangerous though, he knew already that he was going to crave her, she tasted amazing, it was addictive to be around her.

Everything from her smile to her laugh to the way her folds glistened with her arousal - it was all consuming.

Harry knows the longer they're seeing each other that he needs to tell her but the second he tells her about his sexuality, he's basically confessing his love to her.

He begins to feel like he's living this lie because YN occasionally makes a joke about how experienced he is or how many people he'd been with and he doesn't ever deny it.

To be fair, he never confirms it either but that even feels like lying.

One day while they're at lunch in a little bistro on campus, tucked away in the corner so people don't continuously harass Harry like always.

"I..I shouldn't be surprised at how good you were," YN murmurs shyly, they were talking about last night and when he used his mouth for the first time, "It's just...for me, I've only been with two other guys and it wasn't at all like that."

"They sound like idiots who didn't deserve to give it to you anyways," Harry has to swallow down the possessiveness of two other people having her like that.

She was his.

YN shrugs noncommittal as she sips on her peach tea, "They were okay but not as experienced as you. They hadn't been able to make me, you know...finish."

Cue his chest swelling with pride once again.

YN glances down at her plate, suddenly not making eye contact with Harry and he frowns at that, "What's wrong?"

She shakes her head, letting out a short laugh, "I just feel embarrassed, I guess. I know that I don't have as much experience as you. I've heard the stories of you taking all those girls upstairs at parties. It's not, it doesn't bother me but I...I just worry I'm not going to be good enough or compare."

Harry's heart sinks into his stomach and he knows now would be the absolutely perfect time to actually come clean that all those experiences were fake.

He chokes though, his throat tightens up and he can't find the words but he can reassure her, and he's not lying when he tells her, "Hey, I've never had a better experience than last night and m'not lying. You were amazing, fuckin' perfect. I can still taste how sweet you-"

"Ssh," YN giggles, the mood already lightened again as she chucks a chip at him because she doesn't know if anyone is eavesdropping, "I get it. Thank you."

"Anytime, babydoll," Harry drawls cheekily, exerting confidence when inside he's absolutely panicking.

Tonight it is the night.

Harry has nearly canceled three times because he doesn't know if he can do this.

He's so fucking in love with YN.

So fucking gone for her already that he doesn't know how he could lose her if this isn't something she's okay with.

Logically, he knows that if she doesn't accept him for who he is that she's not worth his time but fuck, he loved her.

YN was it for him, he didn't care how early it was or if you’re ot supposed to say that yet because they haven't been together long.

It was the truth though.

Harry wanted to try to make it as casual as possible when he brought it up so he invited her to sleepover after an away game.

He'd organized his room, cleaned his sheets, bought her favorite snacks, and laid out a shirt that she'd want to sleep in.

When she knocked on his bedroom door, one of his mates must have let her in, his hands were physically shaking and his smile was forced through nerves.

"Hi," YN huffs as she brushes past him to drop her overnight bag, "I brought a bag of chips but Niall literally stole them out of my hand and ran away like a little goblin -"

"I have something I need to tell you," Harry blurts out as he quickly shuts the door and leans up against it - he felt like he was about to have a full blown panic attack.

YN freezes from her rant, eyes meeting his with concern at his behavior and his body language, "Is everything okay, H?"

Harry squeezes his eyes shut for a moment and tries to breathe out of his mouth, voice quaking, "I-I don't know."

Fuck, why did he feel like he was going to cry.

"Harry," YN murmurs from where she's sat on his bed now, "You're freaking me out a bit. What's going on?"

"I haven't told you something, important about me," Harry sniffles, he couldn't control the tears that were rolling down his cheeks, and he felt like that scared high schooler all over again, "And I'm scared you won't want to be with me if I tell you."

YN's brow furrows, she doesn't know how to respond because she doesn't know what he's been hiding from her.

"Tell me," She asks softly, her heart was pounding too - she didn't know if he was going to break up with her or tell her he already cheated but she was worried just as much as he was.

"M'not straight," Harry finally whispers, looking down at his feet and avoiding her gaze all together, "I'm pansexual and demisexual. I haven’t been with anyone other than you, ever. God, I know I sound like such a fucking loser."

"Come here," YN responds firmly, her eyes serious and he can't read her expression which makes everything worse as he cries, sniffling and wiping his cheeks with the back of his hand.

He listens though, cautiously walking until he's in front of her - eyes still looking anywhere but at her.

"Look at me," YN prompts once again, waiting until his watering green eyes finally meet hers, "I love you, no matter what your sexual preference is or how many people you've been with."

"You-You love me?" Harry stutters out with another sob, he felt like such a baby but his heart was fluttering and butterflies were turning his stomach.

"I thought I've made it obvious but yes, I do," YN smiles sweetly, pulling him down to kiss him despite his damp cheeks, "I love you as you are. I accept you as you are. You're perfect."

Harry blinks away his tears, letting her cup his jaw and bring him in for short but soft pecks over and over again.

"I know what pansexual is," YN says against his mouth before pulling back a little, "I don't know what demisexual is."

After Harry gets done explaining to her what his sexuality means to him, what he defines as being demi sexual - he's alarmed when he notices tears in YN's eyes now.

"I'm- Are you-" Harry begins to ask but she cuts him off.

"I'm your person?" YN repeats his words from earlier, she sounds like she’s a bit in disbelief that this is all happening.

"You’re my person," Harry agrees, kissing her forehead, nose, lips, cheeks, "I'm so in love with you. It's only ever been you. Only ever will be."

"I love you," YN gasps against his lips, bringing him in for another kiss but this time it's more heated with more purpose behind it as she pulls him down on top of her.

YN and Harry are equally frantic as they tug off each other's shirts, lips wandering over bare skin, and YN whines loudly when his lips wrap around her nipples and suck at them.

She's hurriedly pushing his shorts and briefs off his hips before allowing him to nearly rip her panties with the eagerness to have her bare.

As Harry's mouth teases at her breasts, switching between harden buds and nipping at them - her hands are twined tightly in his hair and holding him to her.

His cock is painfully hard, wet at the tip as he grinds it against her mound - the friction already good.

On one thrust, his length slips through her folds and his swollen head is pumping at her clit - making them both let out a surprised moan at the sensation.

"Need it," YN whines as he pumps his hips, the wet slide against her core was new to him but it felt like heaven, "Please, H."

And he knew what she was asking, he wanted to give it to her but he was scared that it wasn't going to be good.

"It's my first time," Harry mumbles embarrassedly, even though he had already admitted that to her, "I don't know how long I'll last,"

YN wriggles her hips, hissing in pleasure when his cock drags against her slit, teasing at pushing in before pulling away.

"It's okay, baby," She assures him, petting at his hair, "I just want you, please. I don't care how long you last, just want you. Want to make you mine."

Want to make you mine.

Holy fucking shit.

"Yeah," Harry rasps, voice deeper than ever, feeling a building up in confidence at how bad she wanted him right now.

He was so used to being the best at everything.

He was the best baseball player in the college leagues.

He was the best pitcher to ever attend Duke.

He was the first person to get an MLB draft pick before graduation.

He wasn't used to not being confident in hai abilities but he truly felt the love radiating from YN and knew that she just wanted him however she could get him.

Harry takes a deep breath, hand shaking as he grips himself, positioning at her entrance, and when he pushes in - he knows he moans loud enough that the whole house will be able to hear him.

"Shit, baby," Harry mewls as he drops his head down to take a deep breath before moving, "You feel so good. Fuckin' hell."

"H, move please," YN begs as she wraps her legs around his hips, "You're so big. Feels amazing, please honey."

Harry nods, one more deep breath before he's pulling out nearly to his tip before thrusting back in - the hot, velvet of her walls squeezing him and it was surely what euphoria felt like.

He can feel his orgasm already brimming over and it couldn't have been more than a minute or two - between the feeling around his cock, how pretty the noises she's making are, and the way her tits jiggle with every stroke - he can't last.

"M'sorry," Harry groans as his stomach starts to tense, "M'coming, you feel so good. You're gonna make me come."

With that, he's speeding up and pounding in harder than before - YN’s hand reaches down to rub expertly at her clit until she's clenching up around him and whimpering as her thighs shake.

Harry pulls out after a moment, ducking to grab his discarded tee shirt to clean them both up - he knows his cheeks are twinged pink with embarrassment.

"Hey," YN giggles, grabbing his attention and squishing his cheeks between her hands as she grips his chin, "Don't get all shy on me now."

"M'not being shy," Harry pouts as his words are muffled from his cheeks being smooshed, "I just look like a dickhead, I just came in a fuckin' minute."

YN rolls her eyes, fuck she's so pretty, her skin was literally glowing, "So what? Just means we get to practice more."

Harry chuckles, already feeling the tension ease form his chest, "For the rest of our lives. I only want this with you, ever. My body is yours."

"And I will always love it," YN murmurs more seriously, forehead pressed against his, "I love you for you. I accept you for you. You’re perfect and you're enough."

And after this, Harry never ever doubts that YN is the one for him - not in a few days or a decade when they're married and have four little babies running around that look just like him.

You are never alone.

There is always someone ready to listen, there is no struggle too little or too big.

The world needs you here.

Trans Crisis Line

LGBTQIA+ Crisis Talk, Chat, or Text

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stevieharringtonwifeguy · 1 year

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Trans Femme-Stevie where she transitions after graduating, so when Eddie holds the broken bottle in her face in the boathouse, he doesn’t recognise her right away…

oh my god!!! thanks for the prompt- this is a great idea!!!!! behold:

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Eddie isn't thinking when someone enters the boathouse he's hiding in. He isn't listening to what they're saying to each other, can't even hear over the pounding of his own heart and his shallow breaths that sound about twenty times louder than they actually are. And when something digs into his side, prodding at him under the tarp he's hid himself under, he definitely doesn't think as he leaps out of his hiding spot, pinning his attacker to the wall with a broken bottle to their throat.

Her throat. His attacker is a girl, apparently, with soft shoulder-length brown waves and pink lip gloss and big, scared-looking doe eyes. Great, he's on the run from people who will definitely think he murdered one sweet, defenceless girl (she was so sweet, and she didn't deserve to go like that), and the first thing he does is threaten another one.

He's still not thinking, really, when he vaguely registers someone else talking, a familiar voice- Henderson? The kid is saying something, something about trusting them, about how they're not here to hurt him- "I swear on my mother, Eddie."

The girl under his hands nods as best as she can with the bottle still pressed to her throat. "Yeah, swear on- swear on Dustin's mom," she says, voice strained and slightly familiar in a way Eddie doesn't have the brainspace to figure out right now.

Eddie looks to Dustin (and is that Band Buckley behind him? And his neighbour? He didn't even know they knew each other), his eyes wide and sincere. And he backs up from the girl. She immediately doubles over, clutching at her neck with a gasp of relief that has Eddie feeling even worse than he already did.

He sends an apologetic look to the girl as he curls back up into himself, mutters a sorry that has the girl waving him off. She shoots him a reassuring smile and a shrug like hey, been there. It would probably work better if she wasn't still rubbing her neck, and if Buckley wasn't patting her shoulder and sending Eddie a death glare over it.

"You're okay, Eddie, it's just me, it's Dustin- and you remember Max, right? Lucas's girlfriend? And that's Robin and Stevie, remember I told you about them? They're my babysitters. Well, Stevie is, Robin's just like, her... I don't know, helper?"

Buckley- Robin rolls her eyes at Dustin, which Eddie can sympathise with. Like, what the fuck, Henderson, he has literally never cared less about who is or isn't his babysitter. Eddie has no idea who Stevie even is, which is weird now that he thinks about it. She's got to be around Eddie's age, and there's only one high school in Hawkins, so he must have seen her at some point. And she is kind of familiar, but Eddie feels like he'd definitely remember seeing this girl around. She's really pretty, soft golden skin dotted with moles, and her shoulders had been firm with muscle when he'd felt them, like she did softball or something.

Actually. Eddie squinted at her a moment. Golden skin. Moles. Droopy, hazel eyes. Muscles. Stevie.

"Wait, Harrington???"

Stevie freezes up again, the same fear returning to her eyes that she'd had when he held a bottle to her throat. Robin glares at him even harder, Max joining in, and even Henderson seems a little defensive.

"Stevie, yeah," she says, voice cool. "Problem?"

Holy shit. "No! I mean- me too! But, uh, opposite."

Stevie's eyes light up, and everyone's jaws drop. "What, really? But- you've always been-"

Eddie nods. "Yeah, since middle school. Remember? I'd just moved to town and I had that buzzcut? My uncle was letting me, like, be a dude and I kind of overcompensated. Worst haircut of my life."

"Holy shit," Stevie whispers, voice full of awe. Eddie can relate.

They both sit for a moment, revelling in the mutual wonder of finally meeting someone even a little bit like them.

And then Dustin ruins it.

"So what happened with Chrissy, Eddie?"

Oh, yeah. He'd almost forgotten this was the worst day of his life.

#steddie #transfem steve harrington #t4t steddie #transmasc eddie munson #stranger things #my fics

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expirednostalgia · 1 month

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[ david castañeda, cis man, he/him ] — whoa! MIGUEL CORTEZ just stole my cab! not cool, but maybe they needed it more. they have lived in the city for 1 YEAR working as a VET TECH. that can’t be easy, especially at only 35 YEARS OLD. some people say they can be a little bit SARDONIC and WITHDRAWN, but i know them to be RELIABLE and PRAGMATIC. whatever. i guess i’ll catch the next cab. hope they like the ride back to STATEN ISLAND!

FULL NAME: Miguel Cortez

NICKNAME: N/A

AGE: 35

DATE OF BIRTH: November 18th

GENDER: Cis Man

PRONOUNS: He/Him

SEXUALITY: Bisexual

RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Single

PLACE OF BIRTH: Houston, TX

CURRENT RESIDENCE: Havenwood Suites, Staten Island, NY

OCCUPATION: Vet Tech @ Soft Paws Clinic

AESTHETIC: Half finished mugs of coffee and dark circles under your eyes, an ache in your shoulders from carrying too much, the sound of your siblings' laughter echoing off the walls of the room you've all cramped into, a look of vague disinterest, stacks of books you'll get around to eventually, an old photo in one hand and a lengthy to-do list in the other, a small voice waking you up in the middle of the night to check the closet for monsters, the ever-present feeling that someone is missing

▷ currently playing —— I FEEL HOW THE SNOW FALLS BY CHOIR BOY.

Bio ! (death, terminal illness, grief, anxiety tws)

For some a large family may have seemed overwhelming or felt like it was easy to get lost between the cracks, but even at a young age, it was something Miguel enjoyed being part of. For a quiet kid who preferred to stay out of the spotlight, it suited him to have six other children around to soak up attention. In a lot of ways, he grew up feeling like his siblings were a security blanket, even if the majority of them were younger than him.

Growing up, Miguel was largely a well-behaved kid, aside from never-ending sarcastic remarks. He was the type of kid to do well in school, stay clear of most trouble, and focus on saving up for college, not because he felt obligated to set a good example for his siblings, but more out of a genuine interest in learning and disinterest in getting pulled into the conflicts of others.

That wasn't to say he never got wrapped up in other's problems. In fact, he always seemed to be helping his childhood friend out with whatever she was going through, and the same could be said about her with him. Polar opposites, someone who could pull Miguel out of his shell, they were each other's platonic soulmate. It was really no surprise to anyone when he was the person to help her out when she became a single mother, earning the honorary title of 'uncle Miguel'.

Life was all he could want it to be for a while, his siblings were around, he got to play a major part in his best friend's and her son's life, and was content with working at a vet clinic. And then suddenly things weren't too great. His friend got sick and kept getting worse to the point the very serious discussion of who would take care of her son came up. She didn't have family she was close to the way Miguel did and the kid's father had never been in the picture, so Miguel was the obvious choice.

So a promise was made and not too soon after, Miguel found himself raising a young kid on his own. A whole year passed and he felt like he wasn't cutting it, like he wasn't upholding his promise well enough while juggling new guardianship with grieving. Feeling stuck, he packed the two of them up and headed to the city, hoping that being closer to some of his siblings and away from where he grew up would help.

It's been a year now, and he still doesn't feel like he completely knows what he's doing. All he knows is that he made a promise and intends to honor it and do right by the kid he's raising.

Misc. !

The type of sibling to threaten to block every single one of their numbers whenever they're blowing up the group chat with memes he does not care about, but at the same time would drop everything to be there for them at 2 a.m. (within reason now just because he has a kid under his care now). Essentially acts annoyed but is a real ride or die.

Bounces between "yeah, sure you can vent to me, I'll help you clean up this mess" and "stop including me in this, oh my god I'm so tired, please get your shit together"

He carries so much anxiety around this guardian role. Part of it is "do I even know what I'm doing?", but the vast majority of it is just like "am I doing right by my friend? Am I raising Sonny the way she would've wanted? If she saw us now, would she approve?"

Definitely more of an animal person than a people person.

On top of that, getting him to socialize and go out is a chore. He can and will come up with a million excuses to stay in and if you somehow convince him to go out, you can guarantee he's going to complain about wishing he was home. Also, just not a yapper and more of a "if I have something to say, then I'll talk. If not, then I'm keeping quiet" type of person.

Honestly??? Doesn't know how to live in the present. He somehow manages to be too preoccupied about the future and a number of ways things could go wrong while also being very stuck on things that have already come to pass.

Between already being a pretty withdrawn person and then losing his very best friend, he does not make it easy to get to know him. Very much that post that's like 'when they start with that 'you never open up to me' nonsense but you've only known them for 5 years.........."

Wanted Connections/Plots !

All of his siblings, please and thank you. x

Fellow Parents: Will he directly ask for advice? Maybe, maybe not, but he'll definitely want to hang around with them and observe so he can later spiral and be like "I am in fact doing everything wrong!!!" But you know, maybe they can sort of help ease the pressure he puts on himself.

Babysitter: Unfortunately for him, he is going to get dragged out sometimes and he'll need someone to watch Sonny for him. This is something he would take very seriously, so it would have to be someone with prior experience with kids.

Opposites Attract: Like in a platonic way. Someone more high energy and social to drag him out to get him to enjoy things from time to time. And who knows, maybe there could be some angst attached to this because it's like "do I enjoy you as a person or do you just remind me of my dead friend?? Am I trying to replace someone with you??" </3

Misery Loves Company: Hear me out, I just enjoy grumpy characters sitting together and being grumpy together! Do they have to necessarily be friends? No, but they can just complain to each other and lament about how everything has gone wrong for them whenever they're around each other.

An Annoyance: In general I need more antagonistic plots, but anyway! This is just that one person he can't seem to get along with at all. The vibe is "it's a city of 8 million people and yet we keep running into each other and every single time it is a nightmare and I hate you more than I did previously."

More Ideas Here ! Open to anything though <3

#death tw #anxiety tw #grief tw #terminal illness tw #boroughs.intro #˖ ࣪ . ࿐ ♡ ˚ . miguel cortez ⟢ intro #i did not proofread this fuck it we ball !!

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smileymoth · 3 months

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Johnny 9, 17 and 28

JOHNNY THE MISTAKE FROM GOD who i havent looked at for years . i haven't thought about him for so long i wonder how he's doing, i actually cant imagine what he would be doing right now. he's like my age. maybe he went to study like. car mechanics in trade school. yeah that fits him. i still think he has like no friends irl beside Ivar. Ivar also has no friends bc he's autistic. Ivar probably didn't even go to uni he just went to work at a factory. like Wendre or some shit. he and Johnny both went to Koidula. or whatever the name for that school would be in the universe. bc Gabriels siblings go there !!!!!! THEY'RE OUR AGE or they're still stuck in that fuckass town till this day. lmao. They both hate how much that city keeps changing every summer now.

I'll answer for both Ivar and Johnny bc they're like a package deal yk. Kinda like us but so much worse bc they actually don't talk to other people and they have like 5 million more issues than we do. Johnny would try to get girls from like tinder but he doesn't click with any of them. Ivar simply doesn't care for dating??? There's no point in it for him. Johnny wants something out of life but he doesn't know what. He's just lost and fixing peoples cars now i guess. he rents an apartment. Ivar still lives with his parents. theyre ok w it :) they rather him gather money for an apartment instead of renting.

9. favorite food? least favorite? are they a picky eater? do they have any dietary restrictions? if he could he would only eat noodles for the rest of his life. so that's his favourite. i think he would HATE any vegan meals. it's not a real meal to him if there's no meat in it. i think he is very much a picky eater. anything that looks off by like 1mm he will not touch. generally distrustful toward food. hence why he probably starved in middle school bc that canteen was NOT serving good food let me tell you

Ivar probably has ARFID so he has some safe foods and that's about it. Maybe potatoes. In any form. He doesn't care much for meat. He doesn't like the taste. He's just not a fan of food to begin with. Most food disgusts him. He loves gummy candies tho.

17. how did they spend their summers/free time as a child? alone. at Ivar's place. either outside or playing video games on the computer. His only friend was Ivar so yeah. Ivar mostly was inside or doing like odd jobs in the summer. Johnny I guess is the same. He wants money. I don't know what jobs kids work during summer I literally only worked once and it was at a hotel to get money for a cd player T_T

yeah their summers and lives in general arent too eventful. beside when johnny gets stabbed or into fights i guess but

28. how do they show that they care about someone? how do they express that they don't like someone?

Johnny just talks to you. If he likes you he talks to you. He will bring you random gifts. like Rocks or some shit. Sth reminds him of you and he brings it to you. Well, to Ivar. He doesn't like anyone else. If he tells you anything slightly personal he cares about you. He does have some online friends and he just sends them memes and plays games with them. He's cares deeply but he just sucks at showing it. He would yell at people who were mean or weird to Ivar in school bc of his autism. He will stand up for you if he really likes you. Honestly I feel like he's also neurodivergent but like on the other end of the spectrum. Thats why they click so good i guess. LMAO. If Johnny doesn't like someone he's incredibly snappy toward that person. He will ignore them but just being in their vicinity will drive him up the wall so anything they say can result in him telling them to shut up. His temper is SO short its unreal.

Ivar is very shut off in general so what he thinks of people will always be a mystery to many. he will i guess jut ignore you if he doesnt like you?????? kind of off topic but i think like. doing group projects w him would be pretty good because he WILL do his part quickly, he just doesn't want to talk too much, so if you give him exactly what he has to do he will. Anyway. He will send his friends pics he takes. And memes. ofc. :)

Ithink Johnny and Lauri (Gabriels brother) fucking hate each other for no aparent reason i just think its funny. Lauri also thinks Ivar is fucking weird. Oh theres the reason lmao he was mean to Ivar once. Laura (Gabriels younger sister) tries to get close to Ivar but hes soooo not interested. they do become deskmates in some classes i think. She would be nice to him :)

#asks #johnny #ivar #ocs #ask game #god this is so long lmao

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couriernewvegas · 11 months

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ok sorry i know my posts have been big on looks-based insecurities recently but like . i hate when conventionally attractive people try to relate about being ugly or smthn esp like when we are talking about kids photos i get everyone is insecure but like . i look at pictures of me across my life and think about how at pretty much every stage people felt the need to make fun of or criticize how i looked and like we are not the same . like i was an ugly “masculine-looking” chubby hairy kid who was by all conventional means at the time considered ugly as fuck and people bullied me for that and being gay from elementary through middle school . and then of course i developed a huge eating disorder that fixed fucking nothing one bc eds dont fix anything but also bc im just baseline considered by most people to be ugly so that didnt change anyone’s minds about me . like my ex regularly tweezed my eyebrows unasked because even somebody who was supposed to be attracted to me still had that baseline disgust with how i just looked naturally . my own family made fun of me for being chubby and having “caterpillar eyebrows” and some of them still make jokes about what an ugly kid i was from the ages of like 7-15 . idk im just sick and i hate when ppl try to argue with me that im not ugly or that they actually look WAY worse than me or whatever bc ive lived in reality and seen how people treat me stop trying to tell me im crazy and its been even worse recently obviously i just feel like so much of my life and happiness has been wasted and lost on hating myself and i just want it to be over already

#and my hair is falling the fuck out because of stress and im doing so horribly i just dont know what to do anymore i feel like in 24 and ive #done nothing except waste time and consistently ruin my life by being so insecure #idk . mental illness tw eating disorder mentioned etc dont read this probably

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latenightgasstationwalk · 11 months

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get this.

So, ever since my first day at school, I had been searching for an exit, I knew that the atmosphere and environment of any given classroom was simply not one I would excel or even coast in. Realizing at a very young age, that I was simply not built in a way where a typical, classroom setting education was even a possibility, I had an insane feeling overwhelm me when I’d think about the fact that this would be my life for the next 11 years. Which was more time than I had even been alive. And I had acknowledged, faced and overcame this reality YEARS before any adult in my life was even ready address it.

School was hell for me. Burning hot in my seat never able to sit still, fidgeting constantly and being made to feel a freak because of compulsions I could not control. All while completely incapable of making any lasting connections with kids my age because, to call my social skills “stunted” would be a lie, they did not exist. I was entirely on my own in this ever shrinking mental box of locked down possibilities. And the only release I could find at any given day, at any given time, was to act out in a way that I knew would provoke authority figures so that I could be removed from the class space. So that’s what I did, and I chased that feeling from age like 4 to 16. Always LOOKING for an opportunity to do something not only against the rules, but stuff that would make people invent new rules around my terrible actions, because the worse it was - the more likely I’d be removed from class. I never did anything to other students or teachers really (other than talk back and be a dick in general) I’d just do dumb, annoying Shit, and disrupt class. Not for attention or any reason other than I’d much rather light my entire body on fire than sit silently in a classroom

Fast forward to middle school I got expelled like 2 weeks before the end of 8th grade and sent to the kid jail I’ve talked about on here before, where I would spend the next 2 years, from the kid jail I went to an alternative high school. Needless to say things only got worse. I loved breaking rules. I learned very early on how easy it was to get away with stuff you shouldn’t do. But also how to reap the benefits of intentional misbehavior.

To this day, I am the only person I know who has been asked to stop coming to school, Like formally requested. Like “I can’t stop you from showing up, but this is pointless and a waste of everyone’s time, so maybe just don’t come back?“ and I was like r u srs??? Best walk home of my fucking life. I felt free for the first time since school started. Little did I know I was trading one prison for another. Complete with its own unique horrors and expectations. A prison called WORK.

Trying to break out of this one is next to impossible. I’ve been at it for years. While simple in theory, they’ve got a unique approach to this particular captive space, there’s actually a tangible reward for going.

A paycheck. Which if you aren’t aware, is a little rectangular piece paper that you take to a dystopian building in order to redeem the fruits of your labor, an arbitrary number that equates to your value as a human. The most difficult part of all of this is the fact that without increasing this number, you can’t eat or fund any kind of shelter to live in, so I’ve been sticking too it and biding my time trying to find cracks in the system, but they’ve got a pretty air tight hold on things as it turns out.

Getting the house, food, security and daily comfort without the currency stuff, that we insist on making so much more important than it is in practice, is almost impossible. It almost feels like it’s set up that way intentionally. Like they make it so you have to produce something of value to a person who makes waaaaaay more of those currency numbers than you do, just to live a somewhat decent life.

Not to mention the fact that if the slightest possible thing goes wrong, weather it be medical, financial or a family emergency, you’re more than likely fucked 10 ways to Sunday because no one has more than $20 the day before pay day. Add that to the fact that a huge portion of all your earnings get taken by the “government” whatever the fuck that is, which they use to commit atrocities around the globe, and if you don’t like it and don’t want to give them that money, they will put you in an actual prison, which from what I’ve heard, sucks.

I’ve considered diving into the freedom of not having one of these annoying ass jobs but prior to doing so I decided to prospect the lifestyle and talk to some people who were experts in not having them. And life is like, insanely hard for them, in ways I don’t think I could cope with. So when I decided that wasn’t an option I started looking at the people doing the job work stuff really well and tried to study their tactics. Turns out, it’s not all that hard to “climb the ladder” or whatever the fuck they call it. In fact most times just having good attendance will find you thrusted into a position of power that you didn’t even want. But the thing is, the only way to get more paper money stuff is almost always to take advantage of someone with less than you. I learned in practice, that I morally just cant do that.

So now I’m at a job where I work with a very small number of people, work with my hands silently and with no opportunities for advancement, only very thinly veiled pay bumps that are always an insult to the amount of work I actually do. And I must grovel to obtain them. All while working for a billionaire who owns multiple vacation homes that are probably bigger than the entire square footage of any apartment complex I’ve had the privilege of renting a one bedroom in. And now I live in a 10x7 room with my grandma, because even the apartment became too much to maintain financially.

And this is where I’m at until I figure out how to get out. Hiding a scowl with a smile. Sharpening knives in the dark. Waiting for the day I can lash out at whoever put us here. The moment I get shed my skin and expose my true nature to those who’ve wronged me. Waiting for the moment I get to bleed my oppressor. And I hope you get to do the same to yours.

💕Thanks for reading💕

#genuine murder energy #idk what happened halfway through typing this post but the vibe kinda shifted

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hyperfixated-homo · 2 years

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ooh I'm gonna be super predictable but I adore big brother Virgil in any capacity, so if you wanna write that go wild. muah <3

Tired, but never of them

Virgil has a bad day. His little siblings comfort him in their own special way.

Ao3 Link

A/N: This took a while, sorry! Sibling stories are not my strong suit lmao. It’s not even really explicit that he’s the older one here, but you know that he is and I guess that’s what matters. Also I almost got to 2k words with this fic!! Yay me :D

———

He was having a bad day.

Everything had gone wrong from the moment he woke up. He was late for school because he needed to stay up all night to study for a test (which he missed, thanks to his lateness). Then he got a call from his boss and he had to leave his brothers alone in the house because obviously he didn't want to get fucking fired and lose their only source of income. Then it felt like the only customers at their shitty little convenience store were all angry moms and spoiled brats who would take forever to buy their stupid fucking candy and gum and then complain when he didn't give them a discount when they gave him dirty looks. Then in a tiring series of events:

Some kids from his school showed up and started fucking around with the displays.

One of them jokingly asked him out and then called him gay for not immediately saying no.

They all proceeded to laugh at him for being queer for like, half an hour (which he was, but they didn't know that so what was the point?).

A middle aged man yelled at him for five minutes because he wouldn't give him a free beer for an expired coupon that wasn't even for their store.

A kid started crying really fucking loudly in the corner (she didn't stop for fifteen minutes and her parents refused to leave the store. He didn't know if he felt more sorry for them or for himself).

Someone smashed a bottle on the floor trying to take it out of a six pack even though they had a massive sign that clearly stated that they didn't sell single bottles.

And then, to top it all off, one of the kids smoked a cigarette in the bathroom and set the place on fire.

So yeah. In conclusion; Virgil Sanders was having an absolutely horrible fucking day.

When he got home, it was already seven pm and he hadn't eaten since his rushed breakfast (the granola bars at the store didn't count for shit). He was exhausted and stressed out and so sick of everything that he didn't bother to say hi to his brothers when he got back, deciding instead to immediately go to his room and flop onto his bed.

He didn't even take off his shoes or jacket. He just laid there staring at the ceiling and wondering what the fuck he was doing with his life.

Everything sort of hurt, but not in the sharp way it hurts to get a scrape, or hit your head. It was more like a general soreness that spread throughout his entire body once he laid down. His stomach hurt. It always did when he got stressed or overworked, but it made him feel miserable.

He would need to redo his test. And have to explain to his science teacher why he had to redo the test. Would he need to do it alone? Was that better or worse than having to do that in a room full of people? He didn't know. But he was still thinking about it. For some reason. And probably would be for the entire evening. Fuck.

He stared at the ceiling for a moment and then let out a long sigh. He probably needed to make some food for his brothers. Fucking-

His brothers! Had they eaten anything for lunch? He hadn't had time to come back home after his second morning class, he didn't even check on them when he came home. What if they'd gotten in trouble? What if they thought that he hated them because he was in a bad mood and didn't talk to them? He knew that they got upset when he didn't pay attention to them, how could he just-

A knock sounded at his door. He called out (much more shakily than he would like to admit) for them to come in.

His door opened slowly and two big blue eyes popped out behind it.

"Hey Logan." Virgil croaked out (when did his throat get so dry?)

"...Hi." He sounded small, like he didn't want to say anything. Was he scared? Upset maybe? God they probably did think that he hated them-

"We made you some stuff."

Virgil blinked at him. That was most definitely not what he expected. "You made me things?" Logan nodded, almost shyly.

"Jay and Patton wanted me to give it to you because I'm the most quiet and they didn't know if you had a headache or not." The little seven year old explained, opening the door more and revealing a little tray behind him. Virgil couldn't quite make out the contents from his spot on the bed.

"Can I come in?" He asked. Virgil let him in, sitting up to talk about him better.

Logan picked up the tray and brought it over. Placing it on an empty spot on his bed, he pushed himself up and sat next to Virgil, putting his little hand over Virgil's.

Virgil damn near cried.

On the tray was a plate of pasta, some water, a little box of Pepto-Bismol, two cards and a little blue gem.

The pasta was clearly Patton's, heated warm enough to feel the heat in his stomach but not hot enough to burn. It was sprinkled with sliced ham and Parmesan, which was funny because Virgil was the only one who actually like Parmesan in this house. The ham and cheese combo was simple but it had become a sort of comfort food for Virgil, who had gotten used to making foods like that on a very low budget. When Patton started taking over some of the cooking a the ripe age of ten, he managed to make the recipe even better by adding melted cream (it was legendary; cheap, tasty and made the pasta so much better. Virgil was so amazed at his abilities that he upgraded him to the house chef on the spot).

The water and Pepto-Bismol were probably Janus' doing. Most of his siblings didn't know the difference between it and other over the counter medication like Advil or Tylenol. Janus had helped him do some research on which ones were safer after Virgil expressed concern about how much medicine this family needed (Seriously, between the twins’ chaotic habit of slamming into every possible surface of any place they go—plus Patton's leg injury and Logan's chronic pain, Janus' headaches and Virgil's stomachaches—the drugstore nearby basically knew them by name). Janus had probably taken the time to think about what type of pain he was in and somehow figured out exactly what medicine would make him feel better. He did that all the time, but it never failed to amaze Virgil.

The cards had so much detail both on the back and front that it could only have been the twins' work. There were drawings and doodles all over the paper, Roman's featuring chibi versions of his younger brothers giving Virgil a big hug, while Remus' showed some more realistic drawings that featured an odd amount of eyes and limbs. They were both equally endearing. What really took Virgil aback was the amount of stickers the two had put on their cards. They loved to collect stickers, but had a general rule that using them was strictly forbidden. They were meant for looking and not using. The two of them using so many made the cards feel really special, as strange as it was.

Opening the cards, Virgil was met with a pop up drawing of himself on Roman's card and a big monster of limbs and eyes and mouths on Remus' that was labeled "the bad day". He was a bit confused for a moment, but then Logan put the two together and he couldn't help but laugh.

When the pages were pressed against each other the pop-out figures it formed a scene where Virgil was a heroic knight, holding his sword out and fighting The Bad Day. It was so thoughtful and creative and them that it almost made Virgil choke up a little bit.

The final thing on the tray was a crystal, small enough to easily fit into his palm. It was smooth on the bottom and jutted out into a natural looking formation, the bumpy pattern giving it a wonderful texture and a frozen appearance. It was slightly transparent, and through it Virgil could see that the edges were a bright cyan, while the middles were a deeper shade of indigo.

It was a salt crystal, one that Logan had made himself at home after a class demonstration left him interested. He'd kept them afterwards and called them his comfort crystals, because the knowledge of their creation made him feel better when he was sad, and the texture was pleasantly stimulating to him.

The crystal on his tray now was one that they had made together. It was one of the first crystals that had ever actually formed (when Virgil realized that the reason they weren't forming was because it wasn't humid enough for it to crystalize). It was also the first one they'd dyed.

It was Logan's favorite comfort crystal.

"Sometimes I feel better when I'm just holding it," Logan murmured when Virgil picked it up "so you can borrow it for a bit."

It really wasn't much, but it meant everything to him. The pasta had too much ham and the glass wasn't filled all the way, and there were spelling mistakes in all the kind words in the cards and there was no way to put the crystal down so that it wouldn't start rolling when the bed moved but it was so, so perfect and oh fuck he was crying-

"Virge?" It wasn't from the little boy beside him, but rather his door. "Are you okay?"

Patton's concerned voice from the doorway was enough to make him sob. He walked in immediately and started going through breathing exercises to calm him down.

Virgil spluttered for a minute, trying to find a nice way to voice his thoughts without sounding like a complete idiot but eventually just said fuck it.

"'I'm not sad." He said in-between sobs "I just really, really love you guys, you know?"

Patton's concerned face split into a grin, and he squealed, pulling him up and into a hug. "I love you too!" He said, squeezing him tightly.

It took a while for Virgil finally calmed down enough to get out of the hug and wipe his eyes. When they broke from their hug, he could see the others standing in his doorway. It seemed that Logan had gone to grab them while Patton comforted him through his sob fest.

He snorted, slightly wetly, and said "Well, what are you waiting for?"

Instantly, he had two little balls of red and green in his arms, loudly asking if he's okay. Janus came over to pluck the food from its spot on the bed and put it somewhere safer, and Logan rejoined him by his side.

It was nice. They were nice. He could feel himself relax and calm down as the twins explained the thought process behind their cards a little better, the background noise doing wonders for his overstimulated mind. Patton and Janus sat down eventually, Janus on his right and Patton holding Logan on his left. They gave him back his pasta so that he could eat while they talked about their days.

They were so careful to not talk about anything that might trigger him. Every time he thought about it, it made him want to burst into tears again.

There was warmth on all sides, not trapping but simply surrounding him. And he felt safe.

It had been a bit of a bad day. And he was still a little tired, but he knew at the end of the day he could never be tired of his family.

#sanders sides #ts sanders sides #virgil sanders #patton sanders #janus sanders #roman sanders #remus sanders #logan sanders #older brother virgil #i dont know how to tag fics on tumblr #hurt/comfort #soft #shadow writes

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francostrider · 1 year

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Final Fantasy for MEN™

Final Fantasy XVI was released recently, and I think it’s fair to say that the reaction had been mixed. You can count on Square Enix to make a compentently functional game, and I’m sure it plays fine. But the style and gameplay change had been a subject of debate.

Now, the gameplay is a subject in and of itself, as well as Final Fantasy’s overall identity. Personally, it fell out of favor for me when everyone looked like supermodels and dressed like a fashion designer was given too many belts. But let’s put my ranting points about the series aside to address another issue.

And that subject is thus: making a series veer toward adults. People have remarked about the tonal shift that FFXVI has had, feeling more like Game of Thrones rather than a proper Final Fantasy game. The upcoming Dragon Quest game is going for the darker and edgier route as well, with only a fiery number to show for itself so far. Yuji Horii, the series creator, had apparently had unspecified issues for aiming the series at adults.

But I would just like to point something out: I only started playing Dragon Quest games as an adult. While I bounced off IX, I fell in love with VIII when it came out on the 3DS, played through I and II on my phone, and XI became our evening play-and-watch (as in my wife watching and enjoying the characters) after Ys VIII and Tales of Vesperia. In fact, I’m not sure I would have had patience for them as an idiot, edgy teenager. I had enough of turned based games at the time and wanted fast, twitch based combat. I also insisted on darker themes (though I appreciated Prince of Persia: Sands of Time for lightening things up).

But there is the ironic thing about “aiming things” at certain audiences. You know who took up most of the theater seating in Team America: World Police? It was not adults; teenagers took up most of them. The South Park movie was quoted all the time back when I was in middle school. And I’m pretty sure the creators know this. Despite the R-Rating most of their material gets, teenagers make up their primary audience.

And it’s not just comedies; teenagers are a mix of emotions, growing up, and trying to find their identity. They want validation and part of that is finding where they are in the world at large. And that includes confronting the worse parts of human society. When I was a teenager, videogames were mocked as nerd and kid’s stuff, when we were “supposed to be” listening and watching edgier things. Diving into the adult stuff was not just a point of pride for a teenager, but also a point of mockery if you didn’t.

I imagine things have shifted in the last twenty years, but the human experience of a teenager is still there; searching for purpose and validation in an ever changing world. Interest in the more adult themes and stories do not start after you’re 17. They start younger than that. There is certainly some maturity needed to understand graphic violence and racier topics, and I’m not about to show a six year old Scorn, but interest in adult subjects happen at varying ages for different people.

So, when a creator of a long running game series starts going on about how “they are aiming at adults”, I feel like they are missing an important point about fiction and culture. And it comes from the same dimwitted attitude adults in the US had toward both cartoons and videogames when I was growing up: That they are kids stuff to grow out of. But with communities growing with the internet, and validating the Strange and the “Nerdier” interest, I think it’s fair to say that the better of us have moved past that notion.

Both Final Fantasy and Dragon Quest have adult fanbases. Final Fantasy in particular hit big time back with VII and was already exploring adult themes. It had you following a trail of blood, to find the corrupt president of a mega corp impaled with a sword. Considering all the sequels, spin offs, older games getting western releases, and Kingdom Hearts, they are already appealing to adults.

Being an adult does not mean only watching dramas and staring at sales reports. Or only bloody violence. To not reinvent the wheel, I’ll just go ahead and quote CS Lewis:

“When I was ten, I read fairy tales in secret and would have been ashamed if I had been found doing so. Now that I am fifty I read them openly. When I became a man I put away childish things, including the fear of childishness and the desire to be very grown up.”

I feared discussing my favorite games and cartoons as a teenager. And even in college to some extent. But during college, I was free to connect with like minded people and enjoy things openly, rather than pretend to be something I’m not. This led me to my lifelong friends and, eventually, my marriage. That is the mark of adulthood; finding your people and your own style, not just copying what a bunch of olds expect of you. Culture has become far too varied for that.

I imagine part of the tone change has to do with Dragon Quest’s record of success in the west. While Final Fantasy regularly makes bank here, including the two MMORPGs, Dragon Quest has yet to release its MMO officially in the States. While, yes, the rest of the series would eventually get released here, it took a longer time to get there and I imagine digital distribution gave them more confidence. Dragon Quest XI was a shot in the arm for the series, but I imagine it still struggles with its competitors.

The idea of “aiming at adults”, however, is a fallacy in understanding its audience. Adults are already playing the series, and abandoning the light hearted nature of the series will likely turn off part of the audience they already have. There’s a difference between “light hearted” and “kiddie”.

No, Dragon Quest VIII isn’t a dystopia like Final Fantasy VII’s Midgar. But we are also chasing a murderous clown possessed by a demon king. The first boss is a creature concussed by the same item we are trying to find, but our mode of airborne transportation is the ghost of a murdered child of a spirit bird. And there’s something about Akira Toriyama’s art style that makes the shift from sillier moments to down right heart breaking moments work very well, where the living dolls that are Bravely Default’s heroes doing over the top heroics just feels off. I love this style, I love its humor, and I love its characters, and none of that makes me feel like I’m being talked down to like I’m a kid.

After eleven games, I guess a style and tone change is bound to happen at some point. And I don’t feel a franchise should be forced to do the same thing over and over again. But the point I’m making is that you’re not making it more appealing to adults. Or less appealing, for that matter. It is a change, neither better nor worse, and might be subjectively received favorably or ill-favorably depending on timing and climate. But, Horii, don’t feel that you somehow owe the gaming community a “darker” game now to show you’re grown up.

You’ve been appealing to adults for a long time now.

#JRPGS #Dragon Quest #Final fantasy #square enix #akira toriyama #yuji horii #Bravely default #mmorpg #darker and edgier #light hearted

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evansbby · 10 months

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like when I lived in Pakistan I had NO CLUE the west hated us so much and thought we were some backwards people when really we’re not at all!//

Bestie we’re living the same life because I thought this as well!!! Like I moved to the UK from Morocco when I was around 8 or 9 and I never realized how much the west actually hated us. It only really dawned on me when my mum picked me up once from school and other parents were looking at her weird and LITERALLY pulling their kids to the side as if she had some disease. It broke my heart because she’s the nicest woman ever and to see people just blatantly have so much hatred for her because she’s wearing the hijab makes me so sad.

When I still used to live in Morocco, I’d see tourists from the west sometimes, and I remember one woman who asked me for directions and she was so nice to me that I immediately thought that everyone must be this nice from the west….I was HORRIBLY wrong💀 I was more surprised that she could speak Amazigh so well instead of if she was wearing a hijab or not, because that’s literally the first thing western people see, a piece of cloth wrapped around my head.

Also about that magazine cover??? Wtf😭 How did they not think that shit was, I don’t know, maybe VERY islamphobic??? (also how did your teacher react to your essay? I know my friend also did something similar and she had to redo it because ‘University isn’t the place to discuss these matters’💀 the teacher is very ignorant and racist so it didn’t really surprise me tbh)

I can go on and on about how the west RUINED peoples views of muslims, because it actually makes me so mad and so sad that this is the world live in rn😕

That’s so awful and I feel so bad for you bc it’s genuinely such a shitty thing to go through 😭😭😭 For me it wasn’t as bad of an experience, bc as I said before I don’t wear hijab, so most people don’t even think I’m Muslim (and this is a different topic but I found that so strange, bc where I grew up in Pakistan, most everyone was Muslim and not many people wore hijab? But when I moved to the UK I saw many more hijabis than I ever did in Pakistan).

Anyways, bc I didn’t cover my hair, they’d treat me fine, but then I’d hear the way they spoke about Muslims and I’d be so disgusted… like they have this inner hatred and you get this helpless feeling as if you can’t do anything to change that bc it feels like it’s in their DNA to hate us 😭😭 it fucking sucks! It especially hurts when they pick out random crimes committed by random men who happen to be Muslim and they’re like “see!!! This is the so called religion of peace!1!1” bestie I HATE when they do that! They lump as all in as one and it’s like nothing we say or do can change that even thought all we’re doing is existing!!! (I say “we” but please understand that I know the plight is worse for hijabis and they are treated worse!)

My professor was actually a middle aged white man and he loved the essay bestie 😭😭😭 he gave me a first (A*) and I got very good feedback and it’s an essay I was very proud of bc I felt vindicated that this white man understood what I was saying 😭😭😭🤧🤧🤧

Also when I moved to the UK, the kids in my class thought Pakistan was a barren desert 💀💀💀 they literally don’t see anything outside of themselves bestie they don’t know shit 🤧🤧

#anon

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theroastedwretch · 2 years

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Between the Lines- Ep. 4

Warnings- PG-13 due to Swearing and Explicit Language, Mature Themes, possible Violent References

Index Ep. 3

The quick succession of Dan’s revelations the night before, the kidnapper’s threats, Dan’s accident, and Jake reverting back into his more calculating side after I thought we’d started moving past that all piled on top of my brain’s sluggish resistance to starting the day made the morning rather bleak.

I agreed not to send the video, even though something in my gut told me it was wrong. I was the one of the two of us that predicted people better, as unbelievable as it was. But the facade seemed to crack for a second as he pleaded, and I reminded myself again that it was not about me as my jealousy spiked at the memory of the initials on the bracelet.

I was quickly proven right, of course, when the kidnapper sent it to Cleo once he realized I wasn’t going to send it, and I knew I’d lost a little bit of the trust they’d had in me when they found out that I’d gotten it already, and it wasn’t my first.

The first one hadn’t mattered, it was just pointed at me. But this one had been more personal to them, and I could see the cracks in the group growing because of it.

Lilly, especially, seemed angry, and I knew nothing about her to be able to predict what she’d do. At least Dan wasn’t here to make me look even worse.

Too soon, MC, too soon.

Still, once the adrenaline faded and my phone quieted, I found myself sitting on the edge of my bed, staring blankly at my shaking hands. The threat may have been empty, just meant to scare me, but it worked. We could rationalize it all we wanted, logic our way through it, but the truth is that none of that would really be enough to stop the cold fingers of fear crawling their way up my stomach through to my chest and making it hard to breathe.

This was all a show for me, and I hated every second of it.

But no one would forgive me for turning it off, either. Especially me. ___

Richy’s story about the dare house, and sudden attempts to connect with me, only compounded the unsettling feeling I’d been dealing with since the call.

First of all, Duskwood was weird. Maybe I was just sheltered but I didn’t start to do stupid shit like wandering through woods and knocking on random doors until I was like sixteen, not eleven. At that age, the worst I got was playing Bloody Mary or Light as a Feather, Stiff as a Board.

But their stuff seemed actually dangerous. Were there no homeless people or drug addicts in Duskwood who might take up residence in that house and be none too pleased to be subjected to kids getting their danger fix by making noise every night?

Maybe I was overthinking it, but Duskwood seemed to have more than its fair share of legends and monsters, and it seemed like they were coming to life.

Especially once the same Raven from Hannah’s phone ended up on Richy’s door.

I couldn’t blame Lilly for her fear. In some ways, she made the most sense of the bunch. As mad as her accusations made me, I knew I’d be just as angry. From her perspective, I was a total stranger that only got pulled in because of a message that Thomas got, but it seemed like no one else saw because it vanished.

Then, for seemingly no reason, I stuck around, charmed some of her friends, ignored threats to their safety, got them riled up and digging into fairy tales, and somehow had a picture that her sister took.

Yeah, I looked almost as shady as Thomas and Dan had acted over the stupid key.

Still, it hurt to hear, and to be reminded of just how tentative my place in the group really was, even after all the time and energy I’d put into them. Jessy’s defense soothed me a bit, but I still found myself wrapping my arms around my chest and staring at my phone sadly as I got to hear what people really thought of me. And I didn’t even get a vote.

Middle school all over again.

So when Jake intervened in the vote, I was torn. On one hand, strong-arming them into keeping me around, threatening them, and revealing that we were spying on them was not the way to gain their trust back.

On the other hand… It was pretty hot. ___

My more reasonable, less hormone driven reaction to Jake’s video was confirmed nearly immediately, when Jessy freaked out about him reading our conversation. And there wasn’t much I could do to reassure her without lying, since he definitely was reading most of the time (and maybe sometimes it was part of our weird flirting ritual? No way I’d tell her that though), and she had every right to be freaked out by it. Like a normal person.

I couldn’t be surprised when she dropped our chat, and told myself not to take it personally. Still. If she changed her vote, I would be out no matter how Dan voted. And I knew how Dan was going to vote. Other than when he was drunk, he’d made it clear the whole time that I was a pest to him.

I wondered if the vote was just over the group chat, or the group as a whole. If Lilly managed to evict me, would I lose Jessy, who I’d come to adore? I didn’t feel as close to Cleo, but we had started getting closer recently and I enjoyed our conversations too. I didn’t fool myself into thinking her vote was much more than a combination of wanting her friend back and the same false bravado that had led to her dismissal of the video, though.

I tried to reflect on what the vote so far had revealed rather than letting myself worry about the result. Lilly and Jessy were obvious— both were guided by emotions. Lilly was terrified, and Jessy was loyal.

Thomas had surprised me a bit. He’d been so pushy towards me at first, wanting me to stay. But thinking back, ever since we’d found the body he’d had little to do with me, even once discovering that it wasn’t Hannah. I guess the lack of results made me less relevant to him.

Richy. Well. On one hand, he was definitely a people pleaser. He knew Jessy and I were close, and I can’t imagine she’d be pleased with him if he tried to vote me out. But Lilly would be mad if he didn’t. So instead of making things worse for someone, he made things better for no one.

But really, it was his reason that was interesting. Even before Jake had intervened, Richy mentioned my connection to him. And he’d brought it up with the picture of the Raven earlier. But then, he’d considered it a bad thing, and now it was good?

How did he even know for sure that I was working with Jake? The picture might have been a one-off, and Jessy was the only one I’d discussed him with to any length, and even then it was mainly to say I liked him.

Nothing more would be decided until Dan joined us, so I tried to put the vote out of my mind to discuss the bracelet with Jake.

His theory about Thomas was interesting, but I wasn’t sure it fit his personality. I hadn’t seen him as a man of action much, though I guess Breaking and Entering with an illegally made key could certainly be called an action.

He was up to something, that was for sure. But if he took Hannah, then would the body they actually found just be unrelated? Were there two bodies in the forest but only one had been found?

I had wondered why the police would tell him that the body wasn’t Hannah’s. Maybe they didn’t, and he just knew it couldn’t be based on the body’s location?

I didn’t mention this to Jake (and totally not because I was still worried about the J being for his name), but the theory about the initials didn’t sit right either. I didn’t have much engraved jewelry, but the pieces I did have were engraved with my initials, not who gave them to me.

My parents’ wedding rings had been engaged, but it was both of their initials to symbolize their love. But custom jewelry was usually customized for the wearer, not the giver. Right?

I was starting to get frustrated with the number of clues that were refusing to fit together in any way. So even though I was still kind of ticked about his refusal to vote, I let myself relax and joke with Richy about the mark.

His humor was pleasantly irreverent at times, and I wondered a bit what was below that. He didn’t strike me as the sort who joked about serious things to be an ass like Dan, and he didn’t seem just clueless. It was the sort of laughter designed to make others relax, and cope with whatever he was feeling.

For me, mine had started as a way to handle my depression, finding light where it seemed impossible. It worked well to deflect, too. Keep people from seeing if you were really upset, or about to break. Richy Roger, what are you feeling?

His point about being watched gave me goosebumps. The Man Without a Face had already proven he had eyes on Cleo, and now Richy?

I didn’t see much of note in his conversation with Phil, though. It didn’t strike me as much more than normal warnings to back off from a man who didn’t like being pushed.

Not for the first time, I appreciated Jake’s constant monitoring of my phone when my thoughts were interrupted by the kidnapper’s night call, strangely even more threatening without words.

Jake was clearly bothered by it too, since for the first time he didn’t rush to label it a good thing, or an empty threat. I found myself cracking jokes to reassure him, and felt a little warm when he laughed.

His discomfort was explained further when he gave me the name of Hannah’s doctor. Right. The depression thing, he clearly still struggled with the idea.

When he asked me to find the password, I was glad to be able to help with something. Just to take some pressure off him and definitely not because I wanted him to praise me. Nope.

The password the doctor used made me roll my eyes. At least use an exclamation point! But also, I needed to change all of my passwords. All of them. Even if I used an exclamation point, that was too easy.

Dan’s return started my anxiety up all over again, since I’d already decided how that was going to end. But hopefully between spy mode, and whatever I could glean from Jessy if she was willing to work with me still, I’d be able to figure something out.

It was good that he was awake, though— I hadn’t expected him to recover quite that quickly. I might not be close to him, but I didn’t want him to die. Hopefully he learned something about drunk driving. I wouldn’t get into it with him, that wasn’t my place, but I was definitely more mad at him than his friends seemed to be for his reckless endangerment. He could do what he wanted to himself, but what would have happened if someone else got hurt?

I wondered if there would be charges.

When Lilly brought up the vote, I quickly forgot my anger and tensed up, waiting.

His breezy support of me left me wide-eyed and confused. Lilly, too, seemed caught off guard, and I remembered he’d been the one she asked to come over with her when she’d found out about the body. Since he’d asked out Jessy not long after, I didn’t let myself think too much about it. But were they close?

I wondered if things would have been easier if he’d just voted me out. I knew from experience that adding betrayal to an already hurting mind could end very poorly. Her abrupt departure sounded like a slammed door in my mind. ___

The psychologist’s recording that Jake found was a lot to take in, and I found myself replaying it several times to digest before saying anything.

It was clear he didn’t believe her, despite his protests, and while her kidnapping made that infuriating in hindsight… she’d been followed before?

I hadn’t heard of depression manifesting with hallucinations, but who knew if that was her only diagnosis? Didn’t I know about comorbidity better than most, after all, with the ADHD and Borderline Personality? There were so many things that weren’t treated with meds, just therapy and coping mechanisms, so without her full records, we’d probably never know. The fear in her voice was real, no matter if her stalker was or not.

I tried to imagine the stress, the frustration, of telling someone about a terrifying experience and having them smile and nod, humoring you. No wonder she wouldn’t have told her friends.

Sadness overwhelmed me, and I hoped her doctor felt guilty now. With privacy laws what they were, would he be able to tell the police about her stalker? I knew he’d have to tell if it were someone else in danger from her, but what about when she’s the victim?

Like so many of our clues lately, this really only made more questions than it answered. The guilt she felt was clearly immense, but why? What could she have done? As a child, even? Something so bad that she’d bury it for years and apparently catch the ire of a vigilante hiding behind the mask of a legend?

When Jake asked me that same thing, he sounded so sad and vulnerable that my heart broke for him. I didn’t know how they knew each other, or what he felt for her, but it was clear that this investigation was hurting him. I wanted to tell him everything was okay, but he’d never believe me, and he didn’t seem like one who appreciated empty reassurances.

I was trying to cheer him up a bit with my teasing, and his sudden confession caught me off guard. I stared at my phone in shock, he’d never been this open with me, ever. Hearing that he thought about me even when I wasn’t pestering him felt better than anything I’d had in a long time. But the crash, as always, came soon after and the whiplash made me tremble.

When he logged off, fury temporarily flooded the sadness and made me want to scream. How dare he? How dare he tell me all of these things, reject me, and then just run away and hide? What the hell was I supposed to do with that? Was I meant to just soldier on, helping him find his friend and quietly fuck off after it was over?

Was that what they all expected of me?

I locked my phone more violently than was probably necessary, but I couldn’t stand to look at it for a minute longer.

It felt wrong in my hand, so I chucked it onto the couch. The device bounced harmlessly from the cushion to the carpet and I found myself almost regretting it didn’t break.

I stared at the wall for too long before crawling into bed on my side and wrapping my arms around my knees. I thought I’d cry, I wanted to even, but no tears came.

Once, when I was a kid, I lost my footing in the ocean while I was at the beach with my parents. I remember it as having happened in slow-motion stages, with first the wave smacking me in the face hard enough that it stung. Next came the part where my feet slipped out from under me, it made me dizzy and disoriented and made it so I didn’t even notice that without my legs keeping me anchored, I was being pushed and pulled along into the deeper water where the bottom would be out of reach even if I found a way to right myself.

By the time I was able to brace myself enough to open my eyes in the salty water, I couldn’t find which way was up anymore. I was weightless, lost. It was almost peaceful other than the knowledge that my air was running out and that peace would soon give way to the need to take in lungfuls of water in search of air. Even that young, I knew it would hurt. But as I hung there, suspended in the dark, there was nothing.

This time, the water was Hannah and her life and her secrets. Her friend group I’d slipped into like I was holding her place for her. And as I closed my eyes to block out the world, I wondered if someone would save me again, or if I’d be forever drifting through someone else’s story. ____

When the morning came, I could barely bring myself to get out of bed. My mouth was dry, and I must have cried at some point because I could feel the slightly tight residue of tear tracks on my cheeks, and the pounding headache from dehydration. I could have gotten up to deal with it— should have even. But instead I rolled back over and forced myself to drift off again. ___

“You are alive, right?”

Annie’s voice at the doorway startled me awake. She either hadn’t knocked or it hadn’t woken me, but it took a second to process her standing there. The whole time we’d lived together, we’d had a firm policy around our bedrooms being sacred, and if the door was closed, it meant we didn’t want to be bothered. Period. She must be really worried.

“For now,” I groaned, rolling away from her.

“Have you come out at all? Your door’s been closed since before I even went out last night.”

Without my glasses or phone, I couldn’t see the clock, and I’d invested in heavy blackout curtains and hung them close to the window to keep any light out. “What time is it?”

“Seven.”

Jesus, it was Sunday, why was she bothering me? Neither of us were religious, and she normally stayed out till two or three. Sure she functioned on less sleep that I did, but that was ridiculous.

“Go away, I can’t wake up before ten on the weekends.” I waved my hand at her to try to shoo her away, covering my face with my pillow.

“PM, honey.” Her voice was soft in a way I’d never heard it before, and I jolted with surprise.

“I slept for an entire day?” I guess that could explain why I felt like I’d been hit by a truck, and one filled with salt at that. I had no real sleep rhythm, and if I didn’t set an alarm I could easily sleep for 12 hours or more at a time. But 24 was a new record. Probably not one I should brag about, though.

“I guess so. What’s going on?” She came into my room and sat at the edge of my bed uncomfortably. For all of our teasing and provoking, we weren’t actually that close. We’d never had an actual serious conversation that wasn’t about apartment ground rules.

Maybe that’s why her question broke the dam.

I started sobbing, wrapping my arms around myself like I was afraid I’d come apart if something didn’t hold me together. She looked startled at first, blinking in surprise, but then started rubbing my back and murmuring to me.

I didn’t say anything, and she didn’t ask again, just letting me cry it out. I’m not sure how my body had any fluids to make tears by that point, but it managed, and even found some snot to make it a good, ugly cry.

When I started quieting, Annie brought me some tea and toast, filling up my water bottle for me. She coaxed me into eating most of the toast, though the tea was cold by the time I finished. The water I gulped down greedily, and felt slightly more human when I collapsed back onto the bed. Even that little bit had me exhausted.

“Do you want to talk?”

I shook my head without lifting it from the pillow. To feel a little less ungrateful, I muttered a small “sorry” even though I wasn’t sure which part I was apologizing for.

She seemed to understand what I didn’t because she pointed to my phone that she’d brought and plugged in at some point when I wasn’t looking. “If you change your mind or need anything,” she said simply, then turned the light back out and closed my door.

I called off the next day, wanting to let myself nope for a little longer. I felt so pathetic, losing it like this over a guy, but deep down I knew that it was only the tip of the iceberg.

This had been building for weeks now, maybe even since the first message from Thomas. And the message I got from Richy the second I went online reminded me that it wasn’t over yet. ___

I watched the newest call from the MWAF numbly, not even sure why I’d bothered to pick up. I knew the only reason I wasn’t afraid was the dissociation, but couldn’t bring myself to care. It had been a while since I’d detached this fully, and it felt good not to feel, so I leaned in.

I didn’t bother to tell Jake about the call. He’d see it, or he wouldn’t. He’d care or he wouldn’t. It really didn’t matter.

Even Lilly’s video took me several views to care about. And there wasn’t anger, fear, or shock. Just a general sense of annoyance.

Fucking great.

#duskwood mc #duskwood fanfic #duskwood fanfiction #duskwood #duskwood fandom #duskwood episode 10 #duskwood everbyte #duskwood jake x mc #duskwood jake #jake x mc

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hopefullymorethan21 · 2 months

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A letter to my teenage self

Hi, when I was 15 I was hospitalized for a suicide attempt. I'm 21 now, and I want to talk to my 15 year old self. You grew up a little fast, you didn't have the absolute hardest time of it, and you've met people who had it worse; but you had it worse than you should have. Your psychiatrist asked you why you wanted to attempt suicide, and you said you didn't know. It was mostly true, you had no idea; but it was moreso that you thought you were right, and you didn't want to argue about why you should die.

You want to die, you want to tell the doctor that you want to die; but you also want to get out of the hospital and see your friends, or maybe try again. You're not sure yet. You've known something was a little wrong with you for as long as you can remember, which isn't very long. Hell I can't remember any more than a memory or two from before the age of 11.

I can remember nightmares, I can remember struggling to understand social situations - even though I was supposed to be a smart kid, who knew most of the things adults knew - and I remember the short flashes of utter helplessness I felt when a world class martial artist would throw me into my bedroom floor over and over and over again. I remember lending a lego to a girl in my kindergarten class, and a boy with short curly hair saying hi when I switched schools in second grade. I remember following my sister around the neighbourhood on a bike, and asking to play with her friends.

I remember the psychiatrist, I remember him saying that running away from home wouldn't do me any good because I would just eventually realize that I was running from myself. I remember saying "I know that," and thinking I did. Now, at the age of 21, I look at myself and I am terrified of it. I don't know who it is, all I know is that it hurt my friends, my partners, and me.

I remember the psychiatrist asking if my breakup had anything to do with me attempting suicide, and I remember the slow frames of me grabbing the pen in between us and ramming it into his eye-socket. In retrospect, no one in the room would've been fast enough to stop me, and he wouldn't have been strong enough. He's died from a stroke since then though, and for some reason it made you sad. You looked at his obituary and found out he used to preach at your church, and you remembered the kind old man saying you had a bright future. You remembered the sad look on his face when he looked at his patient sheet on your first day.

Right now, I'm thinking about something else he said: "You've been growing up too fast, and I think it could help to grow down a little bit." At the time, this seemed stupid; you wanted to grow up faster so you could get away from your dad. You're gay, and trans; and your dad doesn't like either of those things very much. I have my own apartment now and he still doesn't like those things, he loves me though; and even though he uses my deadname and asks if I have a girlfriend, he talks to me.

When I was you, I never wanted to see him again, and when you turn 18 you won't. You'll walk the 10 kilometers to Eena Lake, where you and Grace hung out in the middle of the night, and you'll call a taxi to get to Charles' house; you don't know him yet, he comes later. For the next two years, you will not speak to your father; but one day you'll find that you miss him.

That seems crazy to you probably, you don't want to get called a faggot or be forced to sneak a change of clothes out of the house just to get dressed. You don't want to constantly be paranoid that everyone you meet is going to tell your dad about how you were dressed at school today, and you don't want to get thrown into sheds. Don't worry, I remember what it was life in excruciating detail. I remember the "mouth shut" rule around social workers and counsellors, and my neck still has those bursts of pain that make my head feel like it's about to explode.

But he's my dad, and the guy who carried you and Kimi around on his biceps didn't cease to exist the second he made a mistake. Bike rides for ice cream didn't retroactively not happen because he called you a fat loser. I miss him because I desperately want to grow down again, and to listen to the comedy central radio channel on the way home from judo practice.

You can't grow down now though, you're 21 years old and it would be pathetic; you do feel pathetic. Because, I'm sorry to say; but things haven't gotten better, They've gotten so much worse and it's almost entirely your fault. Going outside is scary now, and talking to people is scarier. People dislike me the second they look at me now, and wearing a mask just delays that until they hear me speak. I'm completely out of money, and have unstable housing and food.

This might not seem that bad to you - sleeping with Alex on a blanket that Joanna gave you; just to cook your food on a waffle maker in the school hallway - but you aren't capable of doing as much anymore. Your muscles have pretty much all gone away, and it's been about 24 hours since you were high; after being high for about seven hundred and twenty hours consecutively. When I say that I feel pathetic, I mean that I just can't do that much anymore.

It's taking every ounce of willpower in my body just to not load a video game on my computer right now, and the remaining drops are spent on not grabbing a dab pen. It isn't just my will though, it's my mind. I'm struggling to do math that you could do in your head in a few seconds, and every word in this document took a second to spell.

Right now, I really want to die too. I wish that I could take my car and drive it off a cliff and have that be the end, but I'm not going to do that; and if you hadn't either then it might be easier not to. I can't resolve this for you nicely, but one day I'll be able to and you'll be able to see every part in making that happen; so stay tuned for one day.

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bohemianwriter · 5 months

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What brings this up is tonight my daughter is coughing. I have woken up almost every time. I came in once to check on her and a second time to lay with her. No one should be left alone when they are sick or scared. The trauma of not having my needs met in any way. Screaming at Aris age for my mom who never came. They ignored me! How could you?! How dare you! Ignoring a crying child. For your own benefit? Amusement?

It’s hard to rewrite everything you know or have seen and to show up like the parent I always wanted to have. How can I do this without a role model? I just know. I feel it. Our bond and our connection I have to go to her. It’s not a choice. To think how badly I was nurtured is a hard pill to swallow. Not only was I not supported but expected to support my parents and perform 110%. At 7.

I got a playroom with dozens of toys but no one to play with. I had to sneak around my father who was a complete brute. My mother was unstable at best. I never knew which mom I would get. The loving one or the triggered one. It was almost like well my baby died and this one will never live up. I even named her after the dead baby. Great. What in the fucking projection shit is that? My dad only did it to keep my mom around. I always felt “tolerated” not loved. The support I got was to make them look good. The adopted daughter that look turned out so successful. We saved her. No you didn’t. I might have been better off in an orphanage. At least I might have had support from the other orphans and friends. That’s how I always saw Oliver Twist or the Little princess and I’d dream and pray for the day my REAL mom would show up and take me away from this torturous place. She would scoop me up and take me to her beautiful home. I’m loved and wanted. I have smart siblings who love to laugh as much as me. It’s hard to live in reality when you’ve been fantasizing your whole life. I could never imagine my daughter feeling that way. And eventually probably around the time I started skating, I had given up the idea. So for about 10 years we just fought. I knew I wasn’t being treated right and became my own parent and best friend. This was especially true in middle school. A time when kids need the most support my parents turned their back on me. They should have never made me stay there for more than a year seeing how unhappy I am. If Ari came home crying from school every day I’d have meetings with her teachers and principal. I’d switch her schools immediately or let her be homeschooled. There is nothing to be learned in an environment like that except survival. And my mom kept me looking ugly. She liked it. She was always envious of my weight so instead of fattening me up she starved me. Literally. The saddest part. I never got to do fun things. I remember one spring break they told me we’d do stuff every day I’d wait at the office all day and then after I fixed and ate my own lunch alone I figured out we were going and that happened the entire break. I didnt get my birthday celebrated. And then after that the next year I didn’t even ask to do anything. This disappointing feeling was worse. It meant I still had hope these people I’m stuck with would take a genuine interest. Then when I started skating and saw the cost and how they were not going to support me regardless of my passion and talents. Pretty sure my dad only went to the competitions to spy on young girls. Not even joking. It was intuition. And a feeling that I still remember to this day. A pervert or predator it doesn’t matter. It was wrong. He never took me to class. Never asked my coach how to train. He didn’t help except financially but sometimes it felt like they threw money at me so they didn’t have to deal with me.

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haven-gum-rockrose · 1 year

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Completely oversharing vent over here

Wow it's so wild to me when kids know things. Not cuz I think kids are stupid, those bitches are fucking genius and learning incarnate. But I grew up so so sheltered and didn't know anything until i was like 13-15 and started asking people in PE about puberty and sex ed and shit because i was a teenager who didnt even know proper terms for anything and had to ask a friend if vagina was a fucking curse word. never had any of these talks with my parents and like- adulting shit? i never heard about any of that until econ classes in senior year. or government classes also senior year(aside from like a bunch of trump jokes we made in middle school) both of which i had to play catchup in. theyre all like "act your age" and meanwhile im over here convinced that they may have actually permanently stunted me from ever fully maturing into a functioning adult. i still feel like- fucking fourteen or thirteen or twelve or something and act even younger and its bullshit. i knew that the middle finger was so so bad but didnt learn what a fucking slur was til Highschool when the teacher was like "nobody try to be funny, its pronounced Niger River." and i had to go do my own research as to why that was so bad. never had any talk about safety in any situation ever except when i told them i had online friends and they were like "you know theyre all old perverts right?" and that was the end of it. as if i hadnt already looked up internet safety myself, because how else does a person learn anything? The only safety lessons I got were "don't answer phone calls or open the door or have your face anywhere ever because if you do your crazy borderline personality disorder and paranoid schizophrenic older sister that we left in the psych ward on the other side of the country is going to find us and she's going to hurt you and your sister and your brothers" like she was a fucking boogeyman. That's you fucking daughter. Or your husband's daughter at least. AND IT'S LITERALLY THEM WHO REFUSED TO GIVE HER THE RIGHT MEDS AND MADE HER WORSE. And I don't even know her but now she has a daughter?? And suddenly they're like you should call her! As if she wasn't the scary story you told me all growing up? You mean the girl you said locked me in the bathroom and hit me with Dad's jeans or some shit when I was a baby? Like yeah it's not her fault, it's yours, but I don't want to fucking talk to her, I don't know her. Agh anyways. That got off topic. The point is. How the fuck do eleven year olds know about healthcare I learned about that shit at 16-17 I'm so dumb so very dumb.

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37-children-of-the-dreams · 1 year

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Also, monsuno next to other cartoon from that time looks more depressing and kinda more realistic..? Klipse is not exacly villian, but just mad dude who thinks can rule world but later just became tired, look like dud with problems, and he doesnt really look like a threat cause his plans are even ruining by himself, and of course if someone is messing it wont work too. There is more like dark family and moral issues than threat like in bakugan or other. Not exacly adventures but fillers with main characters being brats to anyone, or even to themselves is case of Dax, Chase and Jinja being main brats, or just suffering from attacks on them from militaries and Klipse. I couldnt see it as a kid then, since it really was a depression, or I was falling asleep. Then it was kinda torture for me. Now, I understand some shit here and kinda enjoy it's darkness. When after ten years I found that Klipse had son, and with Chase, I was like o_0.

Other cartoons had better made scenario, and interesting, and here is like I was wantching some weird bandits/mafia VS Police/investigator series for old people. Both making bad things, but one is better by scenario.

I can’t blame you for thinking that Monsuno is a realist and depressing show. Monsuno aired on 2012 and ran until 2014. The early to mid 2010s animated shows and animes were getting rather edgy and more mature. Monsuno was another show that followed that trend and survived for more than two seasons when some of its competitors from Disney were getting axed on their first season. That’s a huge deal since even Nickelodeon was willing to axe some of its own shows on the first season. And while Monsuno had some cringy or bad episodes since shows can’t be perfect, Monsuno managed to keep a coherent narrative during its run. So kudos for you to watch it again even if it’s been a decade!

I loved the early to mid 2010s in terms of shows and storylines kinda out of bias. They’re the reason I wanted to be better in writing when I can’t even write well in middle school. I loved how shows weren’t scared of either being cringe or being too edgy and just showed what they can to viewers without upping their age range of viewership.

I also agree that both Klipse and STORM have suffered from Team Core Tech being brats, and despite their designation of being villains and antagonists, you can help but feel bad for them on some episodes because they’re being brats. It’s understandable why Chase and Dax would be sassy brats who run their mouths since their family life isn’t that great with Chase having an absentee father and Dax losing his family at a young age, but Jinja is on thin ice. I get your family doesn’t care about you, but Bren has done nothing to deserve the 24/7 verbal abuse you put him through, and then we find out about Brent’s family situation and her actions towards him are much worse since Bren possibly has depression from all the bullying in his life and can still be that strong. Beyal is 100% the least problematic of their group since he’s just a naive monk who never got out of his home and still learning about the world.

Klipse dealing with them probably made his delusions of being a king to Monsunos and mankind worse since he’s so tired of dealing with those kids after dealing with Charlemagne and STORM. He’s sleep deprived and raising children who want his attention, he’s wanting to rule so he can get his peace and quiet.

Also, sorry that you had to find out about Six after ten years. Anyone would have been shocked and concerned about that fact that Six is a clone of Klipse and Chase. Like I still talk to my sister about Six and she’s shocked about his situation after we got a better understanding of Six’s situation.

#monsuno #anon ask

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sukirichi · 4 years

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— out of reach | gojo x reader

request: Girllllll I just read your jealous gojo fic and my heart went 📈📈📈📈💥💥💥 youre now one of my fav writers 🙏🧎‍♀️And the spicy parts 😫😫😫 💖 If your asks are still open, could I please request a fic where GOJO has a size kink 🥺🥺🥺 my 5’1 ass is obsessed with that shizzzz

pov: you’re gojo’s childhood friend and roommate – which leads to utter chaos – or perhaps utter bliss?

warnings: size kink, lots of teasing, lots of cursing, dirty talk, choking (probably not in the way you think), body worship, lots of size difference scenes, slight manhandling, overstimulation, thigh fucking, vaginal sex, unprotected sex (don’t do this irl guys) + unedited fic :D

notes: idk what happened here LMAOOO but i loved writing this one because i’m short as hell too lol. thanks for this request anon, i hope you like it! <3

word count: 10.5k

masterlist !

If you’re going to be honest, having Gojo as a roommate is something completely unexpected.

Not only are you two from entirely different worlds – him as a jujutsu sorcerer and you as an average human who can’t see curses – but he’s also just someone who is entirely out of your league. He’s respected and looked up to in his field of work, while half of your co-workers don’t even know your name, much less notice you in function parties where you mostly just nibble on sushi before calling it a day and turning back home.

You and Gojo met in elementary school. You could tell from the way he’s surrounded by servants and stern looking adults, firm hands on his small shoulders, that he was different from everyone else.

Apparently, he comes from one of the three big clans in the jujutsu world or whatever. You honestly don’t care about any of that, because Gojo refuses to act maturely about his role in the clan. You still remember how quiet he was on the first day of school, never smiling and keeping to himself despite your persuasion to eat lunch with him or play with him after school in the courtyard.

You miss that Gojo Satoru – the quiet, serious kid who was far too gentle in his actions yet firm in his words and beliefs. When you were still a little girl, you admired how he seemed older than his age, a wistful look in those azure blue eyes of his that you’ve always loved.

To you, Gojo Satoru was your hero. You’ve always been one of the shortest kids in class, and it didn’t help that you really loved pigtails all the way until middle school that made you an easy target from immature people who’s being hit way too fast by puberty and growing each passing day. You never minded your short stature because really, it’s just height, but you couldn’t ignore how your confidence dwindled each day when they called you several array of nicknames.

Too shy to fight back, you’d laugh it off or force a smile.

Gojo wasn’t having any of it. He’d break his silence and immediately pull you to his side (which only made things worse because Gojo was one of the tallest kids in class, further emphasizing how small you are right next to him) before threatening to smack the kids right in the face.

The threat should be enough to land him detention, but because he’s Gojo Satoru, the golden kid everyone loved, they took his word seriously.

At the age of eleven, you started seeing your best friend as your knight in shining armour. Gojo basked in this, growing protective and always glaring at whoever snickered when you walked past them. Sometimes he even bared his teeth to hiss at them, which was honestly so ridiculous now that you think about, though the message – the threat – always came across loud and clear.

So yeah, you love Gojo, you still do.

Years flew by and the two of you grew apart due to work and also as a part of growing up. You still kept in contact, messaging each other once a month to ask the other how they’re doing. His work kept him extremely busy though, and Gojo didn’t want you involved in the dangers of what he’s doing, so he makes sure to keep a safe distance.

Until six months ago, you hear a banging on your door. You’re just about ready to throw hands because your former roommate moved out to live with her stoner boyfriend, leaving you to shoulder all the bills and responsibilities of maintaining a two man apartment.

A sneer forms on your lips as you swing the door open, a scowl already on your face. You assumed it was your roommate who returned to get the pair of lace panties they left in their room, but instead, your childhood friend stands before you, taller (seriously, how has he not stopped growing?) and definitely a lot hotter than the last time you saw him.

One thing leads to another, and now it feels like there was never such distance between the two of you with how easily you both fell back into a comfortable – yet chaotic – rhythm and routine of being each other’s roommate.

Not that you mind, of course. Gojo’s definitely changed a lot from when you were kids. He’s no longer that stiff or sensitive when it comes to others. In fact, it seems like he loosens up a lot more with age, because you can barely recognize the man living under the same roof with you now.

For one thing, Gojo is loud. Like really talkative, won’t shut the fuck up and speaks like he’s in a screaming contest with someone. It doesn’t matter if you’re taking an important phone call or sleepwalking at three in the morning to pee, Gojo is always creating some sort of ruckus.

You’d never admit it out loud, but you loved it. You love him.

He’s definitely a lot more enthusiastic and fun to be with now that both of you have grown up, or in Gojo’s case, simply aged. His maturity reversed backwards because it feels like you’re taking care of a little kid.

Not only does his body clock is practically non-existent, he’s also horrible when it comes to taking care of himself and being punctual with work.

Fortunately for him, you love him, and you both leave for work at the same time. You always wake up earlier to prepare breakfast so you’d both have energy to start the day – although you highly doubt there’s really anything that depletes his endless source of one.

Sleepily walking through the kitchen with your fist rubbing at your eyes, you rummage through the refrigerator for some eggs when you realize there’s none.

Huh, you think to yourself, scratching your scalp. You’re sure that Gojo went grocery shopping last week since it’s his chore to do the outside stuff like buying groceries and throwing thrash, so where did it go?

You open shelf by shelf, checking each corner and shoving cans aside to look for the tray. With a glare, you stand on your tiptoes to pull the pantry open, only to have your mouth fall aghast because it’s all there – right at the back where you can’t reach it!

Fucking Satoru, you grit your teeth while heaving your body up onto the counter. It’s a struggle because not only are your muscles still half asleep, but because the shelf is right in your face, and if you’re not careful enough, you could hit it right with your face and fall over. Of fucking course you know Satoru did this to make fun of you – and now you retract your statement over your best friend.

It’s all a lie.

He’s a pain in the ass. Why do you even bother cooking for him and letting him live literally just a room away when you know he won’t stop pulling shit like this?

Because, the nagging voice in your head tries to mock, he’s your best friend and you can’t really say no to him. This makes you huff as you carefully pull the tray towards you, hooking two fingers at the edge while your other palm grips at the end of the counter for support. No thanks to your short limbs, you’re practically hogging the shelf by now in an attempt to reach it. You look ridiculous, that’s for sure, and you make a mental note to keep Satoru’s windows open tonight so he freezes to death –

“Aw, cupcake,” a sing-song voice emerges from the other side of the room. “You look so adorable. You should’ve woke me up if you need my help.”

“Fuck off, Satoru,” you flip him off. The man only laughs, the rambunctious sound echoing off the walls. It’s way too early in the morning and he’s already so damn loud; something builds up at the back of your head out of frustration already. His grin only gets wider when you finally got the eggs and clutch it your chest, setting it down on the counter while wiping your sweat away from your face. “Freeloader,” you mutter under your breath, ignoring him when he happily skips over to you.

“Ouch,” he places a palm over his chest, although you both know he’s never really affected by anything. “So what’s for breakfast today? You?”

“You know, I can kick you out anytime I want. I’m being extremely nice even going as far to cook you breakfast before you leave for work, so don’t test my patience.”

“Exactly, my best friend is so kind,” Satoru grows the audacity to rest his arm on your head. This triggers a reflexive response from you; shoulders tensing up and hands curling into fists beside you. “I would totally date her if she wasn’t such a temperamental little devil,” you nearly stab him with a fork with his statement, which he thinks he’s being so sly for but you heard it, and you’re most definitely not pleased with it. “Okay, I’m kidding! I’m going to go shower now!”

You roll your eyes at him and heat the pan over with some oil, muttering under your breath that you’re really going to kick him out soon. As if things couldn’t get worse – as if Satoru couldn’t get any worse – he smacks your backside in the process before darting to the showers.

“Gojo Satoru!”

“Morning, best friend, love ya!”

You were right. He is a pain in the ass.

“You don’t always have to walk me to work.”

“I know.”

“So why’re you still here? I’m not a little kid anymore,” Contrary to your words, you stick closer to Satoru when the morning rush of workers and students begin to crowd the streets. Your best friend notices this with a small smile, his hand resting on the small of your back. “Don’t even try, Satoru.”

“I wasn’t saying anything.”

“I know that look on your face,” you fiddle with the buttons of your uniform, sighing when Satoru follows you inside the bus after tapping your phone for two seats. It’s not a surprise to you anymore that most of your expenses are spent by him, for him, and he lazily sprawls his long limbs across the seat before you pulling you down right next to him.

As much as you hate this man, especially because he smirks at the attention he’s receiving from women – even men – in the bus, you have to admit he’s warm and smells damn good. You bite the inside of your cheeks, looking around in slight self-consciousness before inching a little closer, just to feel his warmth. He’s comforting – irrationally so – so you set your bag between the both of you to keep your sanity. “If you keep doing this, Principal Yaga might fire your ass because you’re never on time.”

“Trust me, cupcake, he won’t. I’m too valuable for that.”

How you saw that coming – you can’t tell anymore. The bus ride is relatively quiet and eventless, with you dozing off every now and then because you’re never a morning person. Thankfully, Satoru is more respectful this time around, lolling your head until it drops to his shoulder. After that, he snakes his arm around your waist before resting it on your thigh as a way to say you don’t have to head bang every damn second and just sleep.

On any other occasion, you would’ve hated it. You always look so small whenever you’re in Satoru’s presence. It doesn’t help that he’s long and lanky, either, his slender fingers effortlessly caressing your thigh while almost your entire body is flushed next to him. But right now, he’s too warm, too soft, and you’re too tired that for just a little bit, you allow yourself to relax.

A beeping wakes you up a moment later. Opening your eyes, you push yourself off Satoru when you see an old lady reaching for the handles. No one gave up their seats for her even as the bus driver asked her to find a seat lest she’d fall.

“Grandma, here, take my seat—” You’re about to stand up and offer it to her when Satoru tugs you by the wrist. Because of your small, wobbly composure, pulling you to him takes little to no effort. You end up on his lap, sitting on him as if you’re nothing but a small, dainty schoolbag. Satoru is clearly enjoying this because you feel him breathily laugh on the back of your neck, charming – annoyingly so – as he gestures to the now empty spot beside him.

“It’s no worries, Grandma. She’ll be fine,” he gestures to you, patting your head like you’re some puppy. “Please, take a seat. The bus is already moving.”

“Satoru, get off me,” You wriggle yourself from his hold, which only ends up in wasted effort because this big oaf doesn’t even budge. He even bounces you on one of his thighs, and you dig your nails into his arms as a silent plead for him to stop. He ignores this, ignores your small whines and the apparent embarrassment that has you debating whether to punch him or hide yourself in the safety of his uniform.

“She’s a feisty little one, isn’t she?”

The old lady watches the two of you banter, giggling behind her wrinkled hands. “You’re an adorable couple.”

“I think so too!”

“You’re so going to pay for this, Satoru,” you grumble, face planted onto your palms. This is it – the worst day of your life. It’s even worse because despite your protests, you have to admit his lap is actually comfortable. You’ve already known this before after countless times of cuddling with Satoru during movie nights, but its different when you’re both out in public. It feels...oddly intimate and maybe even romantic when he rubs soothing circles at your back, almost as if apologizing for this event. Most of all, you just hate the way something pools beneath your stomach at having him so close to you like this. “This is so embarrassing. I’m practically crushing you with my weight.”

“Please, cupcake, you barely weigh anything. I could easily lift you off with just my finger,” when you elbow him in the chest, Satoru only laughs, raising both hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry, I’ll stop teasing.”

You give up. No one seems to be paying much attention to any of you anyway, so you sigh, letting yourself hide in the crook of his neck as you watch the city pass through the windows. Your body moves as his chest rises and falls from his breathing, the movement oddly comforting. It’s embarrassing – it really is – but at least the grandma was comfortable until Satoru drops you off near your building.

“You don’t have to walk me all the way there.”

“Why not? You don’t want people to see us together or something?”

“No,” you stare at him from the corner of your eye. It’s no secret Satoru is attractive. This bastard knows it too, judging from the way he confidently and arrogantly swaggers next to you, hands shoved deep in his pockets as he walked with no care in the world. “My co-workers keep asking me for your number every time I tell them we’re not dating. It’s getting annoying at this point how they go Satoru this and Satoru that.”

“Am I hearing it right? Is cupcake jealous?”

“I’m not jealous, I’m disgusted,” you correct, “They don’t know how much of a pain you are to have around. They’re so focused with your looks that they completely overlook the fact you can’t even wash your dirty underwear!”

Satoru frowns at this, pointing his finger to you as if you’ve accused him of a huge crime. “Hey, I wash my underwear.”

“Yeah and last time you did, you mixed it with whites! My work uniform turned a stupid shade of blue! Now I can’t picture the colour of your boxers out of my head and it’s giving me a headache!”

“Wow, Y/N,” the smirk on his face and the sudden drop of nicknames lets you know you’ve said something wrong. Even behind his blindfold, you could tell his eyes are just sparkling with amusement. He’s enjoying this way too much. “I never thought you’d ever picture my boxers. I mean, I don’t mind showing it to you if you ask nicely—”

“Ugh, you’re so hopeless. I’m going to work.”

Gojo laughs when you jog away from him. He catches up with you in a matter of seconds, only having to take a few steps forward before he’s right beside you again. You’re unsure if you should be annoyed it’s so easy for him to always be right next to you, and how he almost always is right next to you while you prefer running away. It muddles with your heart and mind so much you pinch the bridge of your nose, trying not to be swayed by the sickeningly sweet sound of his laughter. “I can’t pick you up later, okay? I might work overtime!” (that’s a lie since Gojo prefers shopping and sightseeing)

Both of you know that’s a lie. Gojo never works overtime. He’s going to work for a few hours and so and call playing around with his students as “on-hand learning” before he goes shopping for stupid souvenirs and wild-flavoured mochis, then end his day by sightseeing and coming back home.

“Wasn’t expecting you to,” you mumble, waving goodbye to him as the office doors close. Slowly, Satoru’s grin and enthusiastic farewell fades into view until nothing but the pale, silver walls of your office greets you.

Funny how you claim to hate this man so much, yet the moment he’s out of sight, everything becomes dull and pointless.

It’s an absolutely shitty day. Your equally shitty boss blames you for something you didn’t even do, all because his incompetent secretary – who you’re sure he’s sleeping with – lost this month’s report and claimed she handed it to you last week when you’re not involved in that kind of work. Logic doesn’t come by them because your boss publicly humiliates and scolds you, calling you all kinds of names until tears are streaming down your face.

You slam the door shut the moment you get home, kicking your shoes off as you head straight to your room. You don’t bother taking your makeup off anymore as you change into a loose shirt and floral cotton shirts, padding to the kitchen after seeing Satoru is well nestled into the couch.

At least someone’s had a good day.

Seeing as the sink is empty, he probably hasn’t eaten dinner. This makes you sigh, because when will he ever learn to look after himself? He’s literally like a child.

Satoru pauses whatever he’s watching before he hovers over you, head tilted to the side as he gazes at you with curiosity. You ignore him and begin to set down some bowls and chopsticks for dinner, all the while Satoru is studying every inch of your tightly pulled face. “Bad day?” he concludes.

“Hmm.”

“Bad day it is then,” he nods to himself. “I can cook dinner, if you want.”

“And have you burn my apartment? No thanks,” you scoff, pushing him aside to retrieve the pans when you see that he’s placed them above again, even after you’ve reminded countless times to just leave it near the holders in the sink. “Ugh, why do you keep putting the pans in this shelf? You know I can’t reach this. I’ve had enough with you pulling pranks on me, and don’t think I’ve forgotten you placed my shampoo above the shower head today, you idiot,” you snarl and hop over the counter again to get the pans, trying your best to fight back the tears that are threatening to fall. “You’re really bothersome, you know that?”

“Then why don’t you kick me out?” he challenges, completely oblivious to how you’re struggling – both physically and emotionally. “You always complain about me being a nuisance here, but you’re not really doing anything to keep me out.”

“Because where else would you go?”

“Technically, I have a room back at the Institute.”

“Yeah, but because you’re so stupid and reckless that you got kicked out of your own home,” you spat out, and you watch as Satoru raises a brow at your statement. Banter is common between the both of you, but something about the intensity of your gaze lets him know you’re serious this time around. “I don’t even know how Yuuji puts up with you. That poor Megumi is right when he says you’re insufferable. You’re good for nothing!”

Satoru scoffs, “Fine, if you hate me that much, why didn’t you just say so earlier? I could easily pack my bags and go since I’m just making everything harder—” Satoru doesn’t get to finish what he’s saying when your hand over the counter that acts as support slips under you, and you fall, legs bent awkwardly while you scream, preparing yourself for the impact. The pan is long forgotten, your only thought was oh my god, so this is how I die.

But it never came, and you keep your eyes shut tight even as warm hands cup your ass. Satoru is breathing hard under you. Finally gaining the courage to crack an eye open, your breath halts when you see that he’s sitting on the floor, with you safely nestled between him.

Satoru has always had pretty eyes, but it’s rare he takes off his blindfold off even when he’s home. This is one of those rare occurrences that he seems like a normal human, dressed in a gray sweatshirt that hands low from his collarbones and magnetic blue eyes staring right back at you. His touch is gentle, almost as if he’s afraid to hurt you, and his voice that is usually loud and teasing comes out breathy and hesitant.

“Are you okay?”

Your gaze drops down to his lips. He’s close, so close, that if you just lean a little closer you could – you snap out of your daze. “Get off me.”

“Cupcake, you’re the one who’s on top of me,” his voice falls an octave lower, eyes flitting down to your clothing – or rather the lack of it – before Satoru takes a deep breath. “Did you really have to wear that?”

“I have the right to wear whatever I want in the comfort of my own home.”

“I wasn’t complaining,” he raised a brow, this time completely in control of himself as he gazes back up at you with a burning gaze. You see nothing but the way one corner of his lips tilt up, almost teasing, and he looks so much like a shit-eater that you feel heat crawl down your spine.

You push yourself off him but your bent foot behind you slips, and you fall forward with your hands clutching his strong shoulders. Satoru catches your leg behind you, drags it forward until your knee is pressed in between one of your warmth, very much still enjoying the way you wriggle away from his hold. He knows his effect on you – but you deny this wholeheartedly.

“Careful, cupcake. This isn’t a slip and slide.”

“I hate you so much,” you bare your teeth at him, slapping his chest until he finally lets go of you. Turning your back to him, you pick up the pan and begin preparing your dinner, muttering curses under your breath as you heat up the stove. “I’m kicking you out tomorrow.”

“Why not now?”

“Eat your damn dinner first.”

Dinner after that is awkward. Although Gojo is someone who can wolf down his meal in three seconds, he takes his time in eating to start conversation with you. Sometimes he asks decent questions like how your day was or he’d talk about something stupid, but he’s quiet the whole time. He even volunteers to do the dishes before retreating to his room, coating the house in silence.

It almost feels like you’re all alone over again.

You’ve gotten so used to him being an utter mess everywhere that when he’s not trying to piss you off and actually giving you the much needed peace, you begin to hate it. Memories of the rude things you’ve said to him a while ago play and in your head, and you bang your head against the wall repeatedly.

How are you supposed to apologize to Satoru now?

The answer doesn’t come until you stare at your walls, wide awake at midnight. The house is still eerily silent and you don’t stop shuffling around your bed in discomfort. Many times, you wished that Satoru would shut up and leave you alone, but now that he’s actually done that, it feels weird. Uncomfortable. It feels wrong.

With a grunt, you kick off the sheets and carefully tread to his room, knocking lightly in case he’s already sleeping. “Satoru?” you call out, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. “Are you awake?”

You’ve seen Satoru angry as kids before, but what would he be like now? Would he still want to be your friend? Would he still annoy you by hiding your things somewhere you can’t reach? Or would he be the who is now out of reach? If he leaves...who’s going to walk you to work? Who’s going to complain he doesn’t want to do groceries but buys you things you don’t ask for but want anyway? Who’s going to keep teasing the living daylights out of you if not him?

All these thoughts claw at the back of your mind until your bottom lip trembles. You hate how weak you feel; how you’re never careful with your words.

You never meant it when you said all that.

Your train of thought is cut off when the door swings open, revealing an equally tired-looking Satoru. At the sight of you peering up at him with glossy eyes, he pushes the door wider and steps closer to you, his large hands cupping your face as he leans down in worry. “Cupcake,” his brows pinch together, “Did something happen? Is something wrong?”

“I just wanted to apologize for everything I said,” you blurt out, “I was just tired from work and my boss was being shitty, so I wasn’t totally myself that time and I’m really sorry I took my anger out on you. I didn’t mean it when I said you’re insufferable and that I’m kicking you out so – yeah,” you breathe out, trailing your gaze downwards to stare at your feet instead. It’s difficult to look him in the eye right now. When you finally gain courage to speak again, it barely comes out as a whimper, your hands delicately tugging at his shirt. “Please stay. I like having my best friend around here.”

Satoru doesn’t answer.

You’re about to look up at him just in case you’ve said something wrong, or worse, he refuses to forgive you, but then – “Yeah, I know you wouldn’t kick me out. You’re too much of a darling to say no to me.”

Sigh. Satoru laughs when he sees your shoulders deflate, absolutely shattered in exhaustion. Hiding your smile to now show him you’re relieved, you punch his chest that really feels like a fly had accidentally flew into him. “Way to ruin the mood, Satoru. And here I thought I could have a serious conversation with you for once.”

“Apology accepted,” he beams, tilting your chin upwards so you could look at him. Even in the darkness of his room, his eyes glow, leaving you hypnotized in its beauty. “Plus, I think I’m the one who should apologize. You’re right; I haven’t been the best roommate and I am a freeloader,” he scratches the side of his head in thought. “But I do buy you food all the time though.”

“Yeah, with my money,” you counter, but you don’t really care anymore at this point. You’re beyond elated you’re both fine now, and you shyly gesture to his big, warm bed that suddenly looks so comfortable. “Can I stay here for tonight?”

“You want Satoru’s bear hug?”

“Yes, I do.” There’s no hesitation in your words and you don’t complain anymore when he easily picks you up like a ragdoll using only one arm. He’s surprisingly gentle when he places you both down on the bed, sheets warm and soft as it blankets over you.

It would be perfect – except it’s so damn awkward.

Gojo’s long limbs are everywhere. Your face is pressed into his chest, both your legs tangled together. His arm is sprawled over the curve of your hip, his hand nearly grazing your ass that’s barely covered by the thin material of your shorts, but if he shifts, he’ll end up cupping the back of your thighs which is equally uncomfortable.

He seems to be stuck in the same position because you’re so small, and your knees are grazing his groin. Had he known you’re going to sleep with him, he would’ve worn underwear or even boxers under his sweatpants.

He’s never told you before, but he prefers to sleep in the nude. Satoru only picked up the nearest pair of pants when he heard you knock, and even then, he didn’t have the time to wear a shirt.

Your breath is hot on his skin and he’s so sensitive and aware of all your movements. Satoru clears his throat awkwardly, shifting until his arm lightly holds your back instead, but then he pulls away as if he’s touched fire when he’d unknowingly fiddled with your bra clasp instead. It’s so painfully awkward that Satoru chuckles above you, while you scrunch your nose, silently praying to the heavens above that he won’t hear how loud your heart is beating right now.

“Why is it so hot in your own room?”

“Maybe it’s time you get me an AC.”

“You wish, Satoru,” you mumble beneath him, making yourself as comfortable as you can with your cheek resting on his bicep. It’s not the softest pillow considering he’s pretty muscular, but he’s warm and smells like mint spice nevertheless. “You’re really not going to put on a shirt?”

Satoru sighs, a long and loud one that is extended for dramatic purposes. Suddenly, he pushes your knee off of him, grimacing and thanking the darkness that you can’t see how much he’s struggling right now. “Cupcake, this is hard for me as much as it is for you. You’re barely wearing anything.”

“Since when have you cared about what I wear?”

“I’m a man, Y/N,” is what he reasons with, “You’re lucky it’s me. Had it been someone else and you crawled into their bed wearing these—” Satoru pinches the waistband of your shorts, and you squeal in protest, only making him laugh afterwards before he lets it go and the material snaps back at your skin, “—poor excuse of what you call shorts, I can’t guarantee they’ll give you a peaceful night.”

You know exactly what he’s trying to hint at. Still, it’s hard to believe that Satoru is capable of seeing you that way.

It’s not that you feel you’re unattractive. You know you’re pretty and have been out on many dates, but it’s easy to feel that you’re not sexy when you have the height of a thirteen year old and you’ve been constantly chastised about it.

Satoru’s not-compliment compliment has your heart skipping a beat, and you scoff in response. “Shut up,” you warn lamely, “I want to sleep.”

“Then let’s sleep, cupcake.” You don’t know if it’s because you’re utterly exhausted that you doze off seconds later or if Satoru’s words just held power in them, but soon all thoughts of anything unwanted drifts out the window, his arms keeping you close, completely safe and sound until the worst nightmares couldn’t even come close.

Hot. It’s extremely hot.

You crack an eye open to try and find the source of this uncomfortable heat, but you freeze when you realize you can’t feel your muscles from the chin down. Panic rises in your throat once you see the current predicament you’re in, and a scream rips through your throat so loud that the birds outside scurry away in a flurry.

You’re wrapped in Satoru’s blanket and comforter, rendering you unable to move because of how he’d treated you like a burrito wrap. Even your toes are captured inside this hell, and only your head is able to wriggle side to side.

“Satoru!”

The culprit comes out of the shower a split second later, his hair dripping wet and only a towel hanging low from his lips. If you weren’t so hell-bent on killing him, you would’ve been speechless at the way water drips from his hair down to the curves of his abs, going down down down into a place only your darkest imaginations could take you.

Satoru bends over in laughter as he whips out his phone, jumping from angle to angle and side to side to take photos of you. “Fuck,” he howls, slapping his thigh while you snarl in an attempt to break free. “You’re a lot cuter than I thought you’d be.”

“Satoru! Get me out of here!”

“No, this is way too gold. I’m sending these to my students.”

“Satoru, I’m serious!” The devil incarnate himself falls deaf to your please.

Maybe it’s because the violent intent has coursed through your veins so strongly that a surge of energy and strength overcomes you, and soon, you’ve rolled out of the blanket. The fresh air nipping at your heated skin is most welcomed, but right now, you had a mission to fulfil: obliterate Gojo Satoru.

The platinum haired man is still laughing to himself, too distracted in scrolling through the best photos to send to his students that he doesn’t notice you escaping and zooming straight right at him.

The momentum is enough to catch him off guard until you end up on top of him, short arms clawing your way through to snatch his phone. Satoru yelps when his phone lands out into the living room and your hands come down to choke him. You don’t have plans to kill him, but you want to hurt him enough to remind him you’re not someone he can fuck with.

You’ve just about had enough of this man and you’re so sick of him!

Satoru yells out a “Hey!” when you let out a battle cry, using your legs to kick him back when he tries to sit up. Your plan backfires when your hands slip down his wet skin and you fall face forwards, hands barely touching the ground for support when your lips come crashing down on his.

He stills underneath you. It takes a moment for you to realize that holy shit, you’re kissing him and his lips are so soft that has you scrambling back, but Satoru doesn’t let you.

His large hand comes up at the back of your neck to pull you forward. The sudden movement makes you gasp, and Satoru slips his tongue inside when you do so. You no longer remember how you got here or try to make sense of what’s going on, because he feels so good, tastes so good that you bury your nails in his hair while he ravishes your mouth.

You’re so tiny that his hand cups your entire buttcheek almost possessively, a low growl emanating deep in his throat when your tongue eagerly intertwines with his. Satoru tastes like heaven and everything about the kiss is sloppy – tongue clashing with one another and teeth nibbling at the other’s lips. It’s clear both of you can’t get enough of one another as you moan in his mouth, shamelessly grinding on his crotch, suddenly thankful that you’re always wearing thin clothes when you feel him harden underneath you.

“Fuck, baby,” he pulls away to breathe, a string of saliva connecting the both of you. “Yeah, just like that,” There’s something empowering about the way he pants at your ministrations, especially when you roll your hips faster across his erection. “Keep going, baby, you’re doing – fuck – so well.”

You smirk at his praises, latching your teeth on his neck to suck marks on them. Satoru groans at the same time you muffle your moans through his skin, his hands sliding under your shirt to tug the cups of your bra down. You nearly lose it when he pinches your nipple, bolts of electricity running down your spine at the contact. A moan breaks through your lips just as you come right there and then, the wetness of your sudden orgasm barely hidden in your flimsy underwear.

“Feel good?” he teases and drags your shirt down to the other side, but the post-nut clarity hits. And when it does, it hits hard.

Fuck. You just came from Satoru’s simple touches, and he’s so unsatisfied, still painfully hard underneath you but nothing but panic and regret washes over you like a strong tidal wave. Suddenly, you grow lightheaded as you push yourself off him, fixing your bra while ignoring the confused and hurt look on his face.

“I gotta go to work,” you run out the room, feeling your body tremble as Satoru runs after you. “Make yourself breakfast. I’ll eat on the way out.”

“Y/N, wait!”

You know you’ve just ruined everything – that nothing will ever be the same after that – but you’re scared, utterly and remorsefully so, that you slam the door right in his face as if you don’t have any idea how much you broke him.

You’ll never forget the way Satoru’s face fell when you left.

Just as you thought, nothing is the same after that. The tension is so thick around the apartment you make an effort and go out of your way just to avoid him and the apartment completely.

It’s cowardly – you know this much – but do you ever try to fix the friendship you cherish but shattered completely? You don’t. You don’t because it only crashes down onto you now that maybe your feelings for him aren’t just platonic, after all. It’s even worse because you touch yourself at the thought of him filling you up when he’s asleep, all because you want him so bad and the mere presence of him has your brain malfunctioning.

It isn’t entirely sexual either. Yes, you want to fuck him badly, but it scares you down to the core even more because you want so much more than that.

Now you understand why you always say he’s a bother but never asked him to leave. It’s because you like him, actually romantically interested in him. It makes sense now why you always felt so annoyed whenever your co-workers asked for his number, or how you’re immediately pissed off when Satoru talks about this hot woman he saw at work. You always chalk it up to an excuse you just hate how he can’t keep in his pants, but it isn’t true at all.

It’s because you actually like him – and you’re at a loss on what to do or how to deal with it.

The next few days feels like hell. Satoru isn’t stupid; he knows you’re avoiding him. He stops teasing you eventually and even buys takeout all the time when you lock yourself up in your room right after work, refusing to cook dinner or even eat all so you’d be spared the torture of looking at him.

He’d knock at your door and ask you to eat, but other than that, he’s respected your distance.

You feel like the most terrible person on earth. You don’t miss the way dark circles line under his eyes or how he’s lost his spark, barely even speaking to you when you’ve come or about to leave for work.

You’re alone the whole ride, as well, and it only dawns on you how lonely you are when Satoru isn’t always annoying you all the time.

But it doesn’t make sense. Why is he so bothered by it? Didn’t he regret it? It’s painfully clear you’re not Satoru’s type. You’ve seen the women he dated before, and you’re not close to them so why does he seem like he’s struggling with this as well? Or maybe...he’s just sad that his friend is avoiding him.

Yeah, that has to be it.

Satoru is a man. He was probably turned on at that time, but after giving some thought about it, he probably wants to keep his distance too. He’d be insane if he ever actually wants to date you – his best friend out of all people – because he’s Gojo Satoru and he could literally have everyone else.

You don’t care that you’re a coward.

You don’t care that Satoru is sad to see you this way.

You don’t care because you know he’ll reject you, you know he’ll be weirded if you admit your feelings for him. To him, you’re like his little sister. There’s just no way you two would work out. For now, you have to get comfortable with the uncomfortable. You just need some time to get over your feelings for him, and when you’re confident you won’t fall for him again, you’ll mend your friendship.

You just need time.

“So, Y/N, you still don’t want to give us your friend’s number?��

“Yeah, Y/N, you should share it,” your co-worker encourages by jabbing her shoulder to yours. It’s a lazy Friday night and the staff went out for dinner. You don’t usually come to these hangouts since dinner with Satoru is always much more fun, but he’s the last person you want to think about now, so you happily join them. Now, though, you’re starting to regret ever coming here. “If he’s really single like you said, then it shouldn’t be a big deal to ask for it.”

“Well, since you want it so badly, why don’t you ask him directly for it instead?” you snap, feeling anger begin to trickle. All you wanted was just one day where you don’t have to think of him, but of course they had to bring him up. It’s also annoying how they can never seem to get the message across that you don’t want them dating him. “Why do I have to be the messenger?”

“We haven’t seen him much. Doesn’t he always walk you to work?”

“He’s been busy with his job, that’s all.” And also because I’m avoiding him – so now he’s avoiding me too.

“He’s a teacher, right?”

“Oh, come on, guys, don’t be so dense,” your senpai chugged her drink rather loudly, catching the attention of your nosy co-workers who wouldn’t stop pestering you for his number. “Look at how uncomfortable she looks. It’s obvious she doesn’t want you guys to be involved with her friend for a reason. Think of how weird it is for her too if ever her co-worker and best friend dated. She’s going to feel like a third wheel.”

“I’m not—”

“That makes sense,” your co-worker nodded beside you, “Are you sure you just don’t like him though?”

“Ew, why would I?” the food began to taste bitter through your lies, “He may be tall and attractive, but as his roommate, I’ve seen his ugly side. Satoru is a complete slob and can’t even cook to save his life.”

“I don’t mind cooking for him all the time if I were to be his little housewife.”

“That’s never gonna happen,” your words came out harsher than it was, and you laugh it off with a wave of your hand when your co-workers’ eyes widened. “I’ve been living with him for six months and he’s never brought anyone home or told me he’s going on a date. I told you already, he’s a no strings attached kind of guy. He’s nothing but a one night stand.”

“You have to admit he’s still sexy though.”

Right. You hide your groan through another shot because there’s no way of convincing them otherwise. As much as you hate to admit, you’re actually jealous on how freely they could talk about him like that, but then again, it’s not like you and Satoru were dating – or would ever date, for that matter.

They start to leave one by one when it starts to get late, leaving only you who’s still desperate to avoid Satoru. Nothing prepares you for when the sky darkens and a storm comes pouring just as you’ve left the closing shop, the rain drenching and soaking your clothes through and through. Running under the nearest tree for shelter, you shiver. It’s cold – way too cold – and curse yourself for not bringing a darned umbrella.

The nearest bus stop is like what, fifteen to twenty minutes away? Your teeth are chattering and your legs are shaking, and you fumble through your phone as you dial a number you know by heart before you even realize what you’re doing. “S-Satoru?”

“Y/N,” the surprise is unmasked in his voice, something shuffling in the background before it falls silent. “Is everything okay?”

“Uhm, are you busy right now? It’s fine if you are, I’m just—”

“I’m training with Yuuji, but what is it?”

“Listen, I,” you inhale sharply when coldness bursts through your body, making you shiver and press yourself closer to tree to get away from the rain. Above you, thunder crackles before the rain grows heavier and angrier. “I forgot to bring an umbrella and I’m absolutely soaked right now. The nearest bus stop is fifteen minutes away and all the buildings here look so shady—”

“I’ll be on my way. Text me where you are,” You nod and thank him, too cold and numb to realize you’ve just broken days of silence. You lose track of time under there, hugging yourself until your lips turn blue. It doesn’t take long before Satoru shows up minutes later, his hair equally drenched and sticking flat to his eyes free from his blindfold while he pants, hand on his knees. “Thank goodness you’re safe. I rushed here so fast I forgot to bring an umbrella.”

After seeing Satoru drenched like that, something snaps within you. He doesn’t seem bothered by the fact the rain is unforgiving as it slaps the pavement, and your heart breaks when you see that he’s more concerned for you – even after you’ve given him the silent treatment. “You idiot! Now you’re soaking wet too, you’re going to get sick!”

“Highly unlikely,” he shrugs. “Come on, let’s get you home.”

“But what about—” Satoru suddenly carries you before draping his coat over your head, running until he found a cab to hail. He immediately asks the driver to turn up the heater while you tremble on top of him, not caring anymore that you’re sticking so close to him for heat.

Satoru doesn’t let you go all the way inside the apartment. He sets you down on the couch where you take off your wet clothes in haste, too cold with teeth chattering that you silently take the hoodie and boxers Satoru offers you, making sure to keep his gaze averted the whole time. Once fully dressed, you snuggle back into the sofa’s comfort, stiffening when the couch dips beside you.

Not a moment later, Satoru towel-dries your hair, leaving your mouth and throat dry with guilt. Even after you’ve unnecessarily been a bitch to him, he’s still so kind with you.

“Thank you for coming.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“Satoru...” you twiddle with your thumbs just as he starts to ruffle the towel in your hair, making sure to squeeze water out of the strands as he dries it. “About what happened the other day—”

“It didn’t happen if you don’t want it to,” his voice is cold’ monotonous and so emotionless you’re rendered speechless. “You can forget about it.”

“I...”

“You regret it, right?” he’s done with drying your hair, and he stands up to place the wet towels in the sink as you watch him stride all the way there. He’s changed his clothes too; looking comfortable in a plain white shirt and some grey sweatpants, looking every bit the domestic boyfriend you’ve always wanted but can never have. “It’s fine. We can forget about it and go back to normal,” to emphasize his point, Satoru winks at you, though it does nothing but make your heart sink.

“What if I don’t want to forget it?” your voice is small; hesitant and wavering with fear. “What if...the only reason I pulled away is because I wanted more of you?”

Satoru’s back freezes as he sets the towel aside. At this point, your heart is pulsing on your tongue, and you dig your nails onto your thighs when Satoru sits down next to you, right next to you. He’s silent the whole time; eyes calculatedly piercing through yours. Your breath hitches when his hands that are burning hot against your cold skin cups your jaw before his thumb runs across your lips, his eyes turning dark at your reactions.

“And what if I said I felt the same way?”

“I,” you gasp, closing your eyes because it all feels so surreal. “I like you, Satoru. I like you a lot and I—” he doesn’t let you finish. Soon, you find yourself in his lap with his hands cupping your cheeks while he smashes his lips onto yours.

Satoru is absolutely feral. He’s breathing hard and almost angry, even, with the way his teeth are biting down to nibble on your lips. You moan when he drags you closer, your clothed centre rubbing on his thigh with delicious friction. “You have no idea,” he rasps down on your lips, “how much I’ve fucking liked you ever since we were kids,” Satoru pushes his hoodie aside, revealing your sweet neck to him, and he doesn’t waste his time in sucking and abusing the poor flesh so he can mark you as his. “I’ve always wanted you, Y/N, it’s always you, always you.”

You fist his hoodie when Satoru sinks his teeth down into the juncture of your neck, his hands curious and exploring every inch of your body. He knows you’re naked underneath his clothes, but it’s a different thing when he actually feels your breasts right on his palm. Satoru tweaks the hardened bud in his fingers, growling when you moan at the contact and use his thigh to get off.

“You—” you gasp as you expose your neck to him, wild and needy as you keep rubbing your heat over his thigh. “—talk way too fucking much,” you scold, finally pushing his lips away from your neck. Satoru chuckles at your eagerness but you silence him by flinging his boxers off of your body and somewhere far away, exposing your heat slick with arousal right in front of him. His pupils blow in excitement, hands coming up to grab at your hips, but his attention is taken away when you nibble on his ear to whisper, “Shut up and fuck me.”

The simple command is enough to make his patience snap. In a flash, you’re pinned underneath him, whining and moaning when his finger meets no resistance as he slips it inside. “You’re that needy, huh?” he laughs even louder when you lose it, humping yourself on his finger because it’s not enough.

“Satoru,” you beg, clutching his bicep when he adds another finger in. “More.”

His fingers are so long, hitting places that your small ones could never reach. He begins to scissor his way in, his fingers deliciously rubbing against your velvety walls while pumping them inside and out in a speed that causes you to squelch around him.

It’s absolutely lewd how you’re eagerly spread out before him, but your head is clouded with lust, no longer hindered by shyness out of your need to cum. Your chest is rising heavily, his thumb now rubbing against your clit as he coaxes you to cum. “Tell me what you want, baby,” he kisses your cheeks, eyelids, nose, anywhere but your lips, his voice so gentle and innocent as if he’s not knuckle deep inside you. “Tell me how you want me.”

“Inside,” you whine, gasping when he brushes against a really sensitive spot that has you clamping down on him. “‘Toru, fuck, just fuck me.”

“Beg for it,” he smiles against your skin, relentless and harsh as he keeps pushing inside you. You feel him everywhere and nowhere at the same time. Another finger adds in until you’re dripping enough on his palm and staining the couch, but neither of you care. “I said, beg for it.”

“No,” you hold back, nearly crying out when he pulls your fingers out of you. That sudden emptiness is back again, but you don’t want to beg. You’ve never begged another man before, and this won’t be the first time you’ll be doing so either. You refuse to let him have the upper hand despite the crystal clear fact you’re already soaking wet for him, but because you’re stubborn, you only fumble with his sweatpants to spring his cock free.

He’s already dripping with pre-cum from the slit, his cock hard and angry. Despite his arousal, Satoru stops you from going further, using only one hand to trap both your wrists. “Beg for it,” he demands again, his other fist already pumping down on his shaft.

You nearly cry at the sight. Both of you are aware that Satoru is capable of pleasuring himself, but it’s not that easy for you. Your small, dainty fingers will never be parallel to the pleasure his long cock could give you. All you had to do was beg for it. He’s right there, within reach, if only you’d just –

Impatient for your answer, Satoru takes you by the hips and discards your hoodie in the process, sinking you down his cock, inch by delicious inch. You don’t hold back from the sensual and high-pitched moan that leaves your lips. He’s long, and the tip of his cock just about brushes your cervix when he bottoms out. He feels so good, so warm and huge and filling you up right where you want him to be. Your head falls down on his shoulder as you begin to roll your hips, but Satoru has had enough.

“Fuck, look at you,” he presses on the bulge of his cock visible through your abdomen. “You’re so fucking small – how do you take me so well? I could ruin you. Do you want that? Do you want me to ruin you?”

“Yes, yes, fuck.”

“You think you can just leave me hanging like that, huh?” he slaps your ass, eliciting another moan from you and making you clench around his cock. Satoru falters for a moment. Before you can react, he stands up, your legs wrapped around his waist with nothing but his tip hitting inside you. “You’ve been so fucking mean – leaving me wanting you like that and ignoring me for days. Do you think you deserve this, huh?” Satoru kicks his door open at the same time he loosens his hold around your ass, making you slide down his length the next second.

“Oh, fuck,” you cry out just as Satoru begins to bounce you, your breasts following the motion of him fucking deep into you. “Fuck, Toru, that’s too—”

He’s so eager to fuck you, to make a mess out of you and have you losing your mind over his cock that he doesn’t even wait until you’re both on the bed. You no longer register when your back hits the pillow, or how your arms are frozen when he pins it above your head.

“You’re so beautiful,” he praises as he watches you clench around him. You’re so small and his eyes zero in on the way your abdomen bulges then flattens again every time he pounds into you, rolling his hips in a way that has you screaming and thighs quaking. “Beautiful, beautiful, perfect,” the moment his hands grip at your hips to pin you down, you know he’s not going to stop. And you don’t want him to.

Satoru latches his lips around your right breast, gently grazing his teeth over it while his other hand pinches and rolls the pebbled nipple between his fingers. He feels so good – and you’re crying already by the time you wrap your legs around him to pull him closer.

The room is filled with the smell of sex, the sound of skin slapping against skin combined with his breathy grunts and your moans like heaven on his ears. Satoru wants you to feel how much he loves you – how much he adores you – and the pace he sets is torturous. He snaps his hips against yours and presses down on the bulge of his cock through your belly, chuckling when you tighten more around him.

Your head lols to the side, tears falling down your pretty face because of how rough he’s being. But you don’t complain, not when he’s filling you in so deep and he’s kissing you everywhere, touching you everywhere, making you feel nothing else and nobody else but him.

“You’re amazing,” he rasps, watching the way your tight cunt sucks him in greedily as if you don’t want him to go anywhere else. “You take me in so well – you really want me to destroy you, huh?”

“Satoru, please,” you finally plead, “I-I’m cumming, I want you, I need you, oh,” you squeal when he finally lets your arms free. You look so precious, so innocent, and he doesn’t let up his pace. He plants his feet into the ground and his strokes begin to grow sloppy, your tight walls encouraging him to go faster, go deeper.

If possible, Satoru is only even more fuelled with the way you look so precious and innocent in that moment. His touch is gentle in comparison to the way he’s mercilessly plowing into you, using his thumb to wipe away the tears streaming down your cheeks. He knows he’s too big for you, that much is obvious from how much you’re already overstimulated just by his size, but your nails sink down on the flesh of his ass as a silent plead for more.

“Fuuuuck, I’m so close!”

“Yeah?” He fondled your clit, loving the sight of your small body creaming down on his cock. “Come for me, sweet girl. I want to feel you coming on my cock. Come on, tell me you’re mine. You’re made me for aren’t you?”

“Yes, Satoru, fuck,” you squeal, throwing your head back for a second when he keeps hitting your g-spot that has you seeing stars. Your toes curl and your hands fist the sheets behind you as he keeps impaling you with his cock right then and there.

You looked perfect; so perfect to him that he’s basically using you for his own pleasure at this moment. Your orgasm hits you like a tidal wave, back arching and nipples brushing against his chest.

In that moment, you grow needy to have him even closer, tilting up to blindly search for his lips. Satoru complies; leaning down and leaving open mouthed breathy kisses that’s a mix of you moaning and crying around him, while he struggles to do so when he’s cursing at the feeling of you coating his cock with your juices. Satoru looks down at your tiny frame trapped in his arms, his voice husky as he groans once he saw both of your arousal absolutely leaking out of your wet cunt.

He’s so close but you’re already over the edge, scratching at his back at the overstimulation. You’re still so sensitive from when you came and Satoru doesn’t slow one down one bit. He loses his rhythm as his thrusts go sloppy, and Satoru buries his face in your neck as his cock twitches inside you until he bursts with his cum leaking out of your hole.

Satoru’s arms give out beneath you, his chest colliding with yours but not enough that he’s crushing you with his weight. You’re both breathing hard and panting, his dick softening inside you.

He pulls back a moment later to slide out his sensitive cock, wincing while he watches pools of cum gather in your pussy before it drips out. It isn’t until he’s witnessing the mess he’s made he realizes how you’ve been so good for him; taking him all the way in despite your quivering frame. It dawns on him now just how tiny you are when he pulls you close to him; you’re practically hanging off his chest with how small your body is.

He wonders how you’re able to fit all of him, but he’s grateful nevertheless. Satoru shows his appreciation by peppering kisses all over your face, his hand snaking down to caress your inner thighs.

“Hmm,” you moan into the kiss, jolting when his knuckles brush against your sensitive clit. “Satoru, no,” you whine while pushing his hand away, and he shushes you with another kiss. “’M too sensitive, please...”

“It’s fine, cupcake, it’s fine,” his nickname for you is back again, and you lean closer to him just as he begins to massage your sore legs. “You did so well for me, cupcake, you know that? You’re such a good girl for me,” too fucked out to have a comprehensive answer, you only nod in response, spreading your legs open again and ignoring the warm stickiness between your thighs as Satoru kneads your abused flesh. You feel him kiss your temple before he leaves to get a towel and cleans you up. Meanwhile, you’re so tired you’re about to doze out in his bed.

“Hey,” he soothes, bundling you up in his arms until you’re tucked in the safety of his body. So small, he coos inside his head, watching as you fold yourself even smaller while your eyes flutter. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you sigh into his shoulder, “I feel good. Thank you.”

Satoru doesn’t really know what you’re thanking him for. He feels like he’s the one who’s mostly indebted to you after everything you’ve done for him. You’ve already fallen asleep before he gets the chance to tell you how he feels, so Satoru only covers you both under his blanket, making sure there’s no more space between you out of fear you’ll distance yourself from him again.

But he doesn’t have to worry about that because you’re right next to him, and you’re never out of reach.

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