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boyfhees · 2 years

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🗗 MORE THAN ROOMMATES | k. ayato

precis. you plan to move out of your apartment and ayato sees his whole life flash before his eyes.

wc. 10.3k please please please read this do not ignore because of the word count. please read it for ayato in silk robes

genre. humour, roommates ! au, modern ! au, suggestive, roommate to lovers ( ? )

warnings. profanities, this gets sort of sensual pls, suggestive, mentions of sex, disclaimer : there's no style & only writing, very bad jokes i'm unhinged with this one, more or less an inner monologue, unsolicited crack, kys and kms jokes ( ? ), drinking, mentions of dying, open ending ? it's pretty obvious if you'd ask me, thoma and sara are absolutely shit at giving advices, both the reader and ayato are absolute simps oh god please forget i ever wrote this ( actually don't. come talk to me about this )

note. repost :( my brother deleted my account sighh anyway please read this ig this is my fav work ever rip. inspired by this fic by my dearest mai go read it

ayato has no business living in an overly expensive apartment with a broken heater and cracked ceilings. in fact, he can instead move out any second. one call and his chauffeur would pick him up, another call and the kamisatos will have another villa signed under their names— well, ayato’s name, to be specific. for someone with overflowing wealth and a father who’s an excellent architect, ayato is surely down to earth.

his sister, ayaka, drops by every few weeks to check up on her brother. well, honestly, she only arrives to check up on the apartment and try another shot at persuading her brother to move out, only to return back home with nothing but failure in her palms. much to your surprise, she even offered the landlady a contract to buy the apartment. ‘we can buy, renovate and decorate this— then you and ayato can live happily!’ her exact words, but you declined. after all, you can not keep leeching off the kamisatos and living lavishly with a million dollars debt threatening to decapitate you in your sleep. ayato has done enough by handling your expenses when you were fired from your previous job.

talking about you, your life in the apartment isn’t any better. if you ignore the benefits of being roommates with ayato— which solely includes free boba and the opportunity to watch him in a silk robe every time he takes a shower— you don’t have any reasons to not move out of the apartment either. surprisingly enough, you’re sure that if you continue to living there and keep using the dark and narrow alleyway as your shortest way home from the university campus, you’ll be murdered luxuriously.

that was four months ago, though, when you were a new resident who paid an offensively high rent for a shitty apartment and saw yourself on the streets in the near future. the you from four months ago is probably cursing the hell out of you; not even probably, it’s certain. every night, you entertain your two lovely, semi-functional brain cells telling you to gather your stuff and move out the day you get your pay cheque.

you’re reminded to move in with your parents again after you had the nastiest argument with them and moved out impulsively, saying you’ll ‘slay’ out there, in the world, all alone. well, surprise, you’re not. instead, the world is slaying you by having you juggle between three part time jobs while managing your hair-greying college schedule and an apartment who’s faucet goes out every other day. that’s when the landlady gave you the happiest news you’d heard in months : a roommate.

now, you see, for most people, having a roommate would be troublesome. no one wants to share the kitchen or their favourite spot on the couch or something, but the day you were informed about your roommate moving in, you were on cloud nine. you had a drink, blanked out completely in the middle of the living room for absolutely no reason, even cleaned the apartment extra carefully the next day for dear roommate. you’re crazy for that, you had your reasons.

first, the rent. thankfully, it is still around how it was before with a bare fifteen percent increase; but hey, you no longer have to carry the financial burden yourself and have your conscience call you an imbecile every night before you drift into sleep. moreover, you’d finally have someone to fix the faucet, change the bulbs, and most importantly, hear you venting about how shit the apartment is. you were also excited about your roommate being the ‘nice, college student in his early twenties’ guy, as informed by your landlord, but that’s for another day.

and that is how you had ayato as your roommate. his first look was intimidating. you remember wondering if he’s actually a college student and not some undercover assassin. but again, he looks too, if anything, decent, to be an assassin. ayato likes his boba extra sweetened and his closet consists of anything but hoodies and sweatpants. he watches bunny videos in free time and feeds stray cats whenever they come around. he also cooks two meals a day and ends up ordering the third one so you don’t have to overwork yourself after all the part time jobs and stressful classes, helps you with assignment, puts you to bed if you fall asleep in living room— yeah, no. he’s way too decent to be an assassin.

ayato thinks he’s doing a wonderful job at being a roommate who you can depend upon. from the first hour of the day to the last one at night, he helps you, greets you, stays by your side; he’s an amazing roommate, and it’s a fact. thoma confirmed, and sara thinks he’s being a little too generous but hey, it’s about you; and when it comes to you, nothing is ‘too much’ for aayto.

so when you tell him on one fine sunday morning that you’ll be moving out next month, ayato sees his life flash before his eyes. it’s been two days since you’ve informed him and he’s still too stunned to speak.

“hey,” ayato greets you in the kitchen, fetching a glass from a shelf higher than usual. there’s something off about the atmosphere, and it’s definitely not you. so, your eyes travel to ayato as he pours himself a glass of ice-cold water at the ass crack of dawn. “so you’re really moving out?”

what the fuck.

no because, you’re still half asleep. it’s half past five, you’re getting water and ayato waltz into the kitchen with his robe half draping off one of his shoulders and a raspy morning voice that has you weak in knees. perhaps, you expect a sweet little ‘good morning’ with his trademark smile that has the landlord’s daughter wrapped around his finger— and you too, honestly. instead, you’re met with a frown hanging on his face and a question about the topic that was last brought up about two days ago.

“yeah. surprise?” you let out the fakest laugh before letting it die just as quickly the moment the sound of your cracked voice hits your ears. actually, you don’t even care about how you look and sound. what’s more important is that ayato isn't acting like himself. well, he’s the one to react quickly and not resurrect a dead conversation two days after, especially when you’re in the process of mourning and grieving about the lack of ayato you’ll have in your life from the next month onward.

see, you have a disease, and it’s terminal. you could’ve moved out the day you moved in, or the day ayato moved in, or on any day in the past four months, but your condition didn’t allow you. first, it was the lack of green money in your hands to get a better apartment and after ayato moved in, he became the problem.

you’re down bad. outsold. you have one look at a fine man and you wobble on your knees; one sight of toned muscles and you’re a goner. flatline. dead. there’s no going back. the first time you saw ayato was after you came back from your classes with a cake in your hands to celebrate the welcoming of your roommate. you opened the door and before you stood ayato with his drenched hair and silk robe, smelling like primroses and everything that the man of your dreams could have ever.

he shot you a smile, and you were sold.

forget the cake, you had a whole five-star exquisite cuisine standing in front of you. rent was no longer a problem, you didn’t mind living under leaking roofs and honestly, even if someone murdered you, you wouldn’t mind. you have been planning to move out for a long time but if that was going to be the scene you came home to everyday, you didn’t mind any of the problems offered by the apartment.

that is what ayato did to you the day he moved in.

so, making a decision about moving out and telling that to him was a torture. not only were you losing your man— how funny— but also your daily free boba supplier. it was a life changing, heart wrenching, decision; but it had to be done.

you shoot him a smile, patting his shoulders as you walk towards your room. “hey, i’m not leaving until next month so don’t think you’re getting rid of me anytime soon.” you hear ayato let out an exaggerated sigh, one that could blow away the wig of your mathematics professor. you don’t know what occurred to him at five-thirty in the morning when he showed up with the saddest frown ever, but thinking he’s upset about you moving out would be getting ahead of yourself and making a clown of yourself once again, in the circus that your life is.

“dude, what the hell—” that’s thoma, and the saccharine words of compliments leaving his mouth are for none other than ayato. “what’s with your face?”

no no, not only his face; in fact, ayato, as a whole, is fucked up. he didn’t get a single ounce of sleep last night and you can blame some netflix shitshow for that. and just when he was about to fall asleep, his hydration requirements led him into the kitchen and the rest is history.

“why is she moving out?” ayato mumbles in the most disappointed and sorrow ridden voice. he didn’t even sound this heart broken when his last girlfriend dumped him in the middle of victoria’s secret because he didn’t help her choose, you know, her lingerie; as insane as it sounds. thoma hasn’t seen ayato this dejected in over a year and the blond head is convinced his one and only close friend, his bro, is losing his mind.

a second passes, thoma repeats ayato’s question in his head. “she, as in yn?” and the next second, he gets his answer. thoma sits straight, back tightened, eyes fixed on ayato who’s very, uh, desolate right now. he has a class in ten minutes but bros before everything, and especially before an hour-long lesson about shit newton did as a scientist. his priority at the moment is to beat some sense into his friend in the politest way possible.

“why shouldn’t she move out— i mean, have you looked at the apartment? it sucks ass, i’m surprised she made it till four months, i would’ve killed myself on the spot if i had to live there.” ayato shoots him a desperate look, a whine rolling off his pout as thoma’s face scrunches up into disgust because the fuck kind of behaviour is ayato exhibiting in middle of the cafe. “you know, you should move out too. i can clearly see the damage that place has done to you.”

oh no, the damage is yet to be done. it’s happening slowly, gradually, slower than the tortoise in that tortoise and the hare race, slower than a sloth, drop by drop, sucking the life out of him. ayato doesn’t have any interest in that sorry excuse of an apartment. instead, he’s interested in you. the day he moved in, you appeared in front of him as an angel. an angel with a cake, strawberry flavoured cake that he absolutely despises but you, on the other hand, looked edible— he means, you looked beautiful. you always do, even when you’re wasted after four bottles and a plattering mess.

god, ayato thinks it’s a blessing to be able to wake up in the same apartment as you. you may say you’re a potato but for ayato, you’re the longest and spiciest chilli in the bunch, he said what he said. and now you’re moving out, he can already spot the differences in the apartment. your stuff is no longer lying here and there since you’ve started arranging your things.

ayato can sense his descent into madness for several reasons. first, you’re just a roommate so why the fuck does he care if you live with him or move to mars; and second, you lived with him for two months without complaints so, why do you want to move out now. he wants to rip his hair out, drink bleach and sleep, hoping to wake up with a better thinking process and stability.

ayato feels like he has been stripped of humanity, all because you’re moving out in less than thirty days.

“hi— shit— you need to start sleeping, ayato!” this is sara, and once again, the elite words of compliments are thrown at none other than the boba man. kujou takes a seat next to thoma, observing ayato as he whines and sighs into his hand, looking like a sleep deprived, homeless man who probably has post traumatic stress disorder, but it’s literally just him crying over you, much to sara’s unawareness. “is he okay?”

thoma shakes his head, taking a sip from his drink, shooting her a ‘does-he-look-like-he’s-okay’ look before sighing at his friend’s state once again. “yn’s moving out and he’s not coping well.”

sara leans back on her chair, rolling eyes at ayato’s diseased situation. it’s surprising that someone hasn’t reported him to the infirmary or some asylum; but she knows the cure. unlike ayato, sara isn’t stupid. she knows; studying criminology gives her an advantage of knowing how to read between the lines, or in this case, ayato’s whines.

“it’s about time you accept your feelings.” what. she states and it feels like ayato’s heart skipped several beats. he looks at her wide eyed, flabber-gasted, with jaw dropped to the floor. “what? i know you like her. you’re fooling no one with that stupid face of yours.”

no, what sara’s saying is stupid. you’re a roommate. his roommate. ayato’s roommate. mate of the room. nothing less and certainly, nothing more. you don’t share a single class. his mornings start with your face and then ayato doesn’t see you for the whole day, unless you bump into each other on the campus, which is rarer than him getting hit by a meteoroid and dying. ain’t no way, he likes you. sure, you’re pretty. god, you’re gorgeous. human embodiment of goddesses but it’s just the beauty. apart from being extremely gorgeous and someone who ayato probably values more than his life, you’re basically a no one.

kamisato ayato trusts his instincts, and his instincts tell him that he doesn’t like you. he likes you, just not in that way, not the like-like. not the i-want-to-surrender-my-life-to-you kind of like, not the i-want-to-make-out-with-you kind of like. okay, maybe the last part is a lie— but he still stands by his words.

“you’re gaslighting m—”

“you’re gaslighting yourself.” thoma cuts him mid-sentence. “i still have the screenshots from the day you spammed me after yn posted that pic. don’t even try to deny.”

wait, that happened?

the, going crazy and spamming after seeing your post? ayato likes to think he was drunk.

“you we’re sober, by the way. never been more, honestly.” and oh god, he’s done for. but that’s okay, right? you’re his roommate, and it’s normal for a roommate to aggressively talk about how pretty their roommate is, isn’t it? ayato believes it is normal. it’s as normal as drinking coffee to sleep better. a human appreciating another human’s beauty, what’s so wrong with that? one should support their kind, mutualism is the way through the ecosystem. rhizobium doesn’t live symbiotically for nothing, after all. it’s just give and take—

“are you going to say something or…?” sara interjects ayato’s trail of useless thoughts. he still doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t know what to say. he doesn’t like you, right, right— it’s clear in his head, he just needs to put it in words. he’s unable to carry out the last part. “okay, if you don’t like yn, then why do you have a problem with her moving out?”

ah, yes. now we’re talking. the life in ayato’s eyes revisits. “look, look— she’s a great cook,” hah, what a liar. you’re a cook, not a great one. you don’t even cook in the apartment to begin with. the kitchen belongs to mister kamisato ayato and you sit by the counter to watch him cook and add another ten to fifteen years in your life. “and she can clean,” that’s something you’ve always been good at. truthfully, you don’t mind cleaning or doing any of the chores for ayato. you’re ready to get on your fours and bark for him. “and, she's pretty…”

“there,” thoma interrupts, slamming his hand on the table, having ayato look at him with a curious gaze; which looks horrifying because of his lack of sleep, by the way. “i don’t see how being pretty is anywhere close to why you need her to stay.”

sara nods in agreement, but ayato knows he makes sense. who wants to live with an ugly roommate? okay, maybe, all roommates are pretty, but thoma, if ayato had to live with him, he’d flee the country. so, being pretty does co-relate with living peacefully, because if you’re not pretty, your roommate will flee countries and that’ll cause unnecessary expenses. henceforth, point proven. ayato still thinks he makes absolute, completely, hundred percent sense.

“whatever, just ask her to stay if it’s that important,” thoma snickers, rolling his eyes. but what he’s saying is not possible. ayato may be good at flirting, he does have a pretty good record with dating, but he becomes a nervous wreck around you.

he’s nervous right now.

you make him nervous. just the thought of you makes him nervous.

and believe it or not, ayato can’t just walk up to you and ask you to not move away because you’re a great cook, you can clean and you’re pretty— no. he doesn’t have the confidence. the whole process sounds like a secret military operation where flexible deterrent options are a must if he wants to survive.

talking to you feels like writing finals for a subject he has never touched in his whole life. it’s like skydiving without a parachute, going into space without oxygen, and whatnot. despite spending two months with you in the same apartment, under the same roof, ayato’s communication skills haven’t improved past the ‘hi / hello’ stage.

it’s like stepping on his sister in front of his mother and then breaking her favourite vase before throwing his father’s golf clubs into the sewer. and even though ayato says he likes you, hypothetically, he wouldn’t stroll up to you and ask you to not move out. that's utterly selfish. you’re just a roommate, a chapter in his life, someone who he stumbled across on his way and took a liking to— platonically— that’s it. that’s all you are. ayato thinks it’s insultingly selfish of him to ask you to stay. so he wouldn’t ask you, but he wants to, he wishes for you to stay, no matter how selfish it sounds.

“i can’t ask her that.” it’s a stern reply, ayato is way too confident with his words while thoma raises his eyebrows as an interrogative response. “what, you expect me to go ‘hey yn, please don’t move out’ one fine day?”

“no, but you can definitely go, ‘hey yn, you have a sexy and hot roommate who will do you right so don’t move out,’ at her.” ayato believes that the stupidest and most brain-degrading sentence that has ever come out of kujou sara’s mouth. “i mean, you don’t have to tell her to stay, show her.”

“this isn’t literature, sara.”

“i know, but show her the benefits of not moving out,” she repeats, her eyes enunciating a bigger plan behind those few insensible words. “seduce her with your skills, ayato.”

yeah no, there’s no bigger plan.

the only plan is to fuck up kamisato ayato’s already fucked up life with her illogical, useless fucked up plan. for someone studying criminology and nailing those charts, sara surely thinks less before speaking. no, she doesn’t think at all. her brain is probably in the suitcase she trashed last week.

“sara, shut up before i—”

ayato wants to continue his statement, but thoma beats him to it. “no no, wait. she, she makes sense.”

no, she does not.

she doesn’t make any sense.

no dots are connected, the dots aren’t here to begin with. head in hands, ayato sighs again. this sounds like something that would ruin his life beyond repair. to damage his reputation so much, he’d have to flee the country and change his identity. perhaps, the kaedehara family would take him in.

“dude, think about it,” ah, no. ayato very well knows that thoma doesn’t get to talk about ‘thinking’ and anything related to it after saying sara’s plan makes sense. her words are incredibly thoughtless. “you show her the benefits. drop her to campus and drive her back, cook for her, clean for her, arrange her bed for her, earn for her, spend on her, just anything— show her, ayato.”

no.

ayato doesn’t like the direction this conversation is heading in.

or perhaps, he’s just overthinking. well, he has been doing almost everything on that list, honestly. everything as in, cooking. that’s it. that’s important, cooking is necessary, one must survive to eat— he means, eat to survive. he has spent quite a generous sum when you lost your very first job.

this whole conversation is eating his brains out. you’re just a friend, not even a friend, a roommate. a fucking roommate he got attached to and how his abandonment issues are surfacing and god knows what will follow. he repeats thoma’s words in his head over and over again— now way, it makes sense. if anything, it’s going to give you the wrong idea that your roommate became a sugar daddy overnight and you’re going to be his first sugar baby, as sweet and horrific as it sounds.

talk to us when you’re in a state to accept your feelings. that’s what sara said before excusing herself out of the cafe with thoma following her shortly behind. yeah no, ayato is regretting every decision that led him to this conversation, this unsolicited therapy session that fucked his brain inside-out. he’s about to leave the cafe as well, planning to skip all his classes and probably go visit a temple or something, until you come around with your friends.

there’s a smile on your face, the one he wakes up to. he loves your smile. ayato thinks your smile is really pretty; you are pretty— platonically. a smile creeps up to his face as well, dissipating as soon as thoma’s words re-visited his mind.

show her. ayato bites the insides of his cheeks. he’s probably going to take that advice. after all, you can make anything make sense if you really tried.

ayato is on his way to the apartment.

he clearly disposed of all his responsibilities as an ideal student and sprinted out of the campus like a criminal on the run. well, he’s on his way to become a criminal. he’s about to seduce you using his skills and then you’ll report him to the police. doesn’t matter that he can get bailed out in minutes thanks to his mad rich family, he’ll still flee the country, get a new identity, dye his hair. kaedehara ayato doesn’t sound bad, not bad at all. it sounds delicious, healing, sounds like something that would save his life.

now, he’s on the elevator to the floor. he’s afraid the elevator would stop moving if another pack of stress stacks up on his shoulders. actually, that wouldn’t be half bad.

the elevator stops, security comes, you will come running, the management will open the door and he’ll die in your arms out of collapsing lungs? stress? anxiety? heart attack? you’ll cup his face and he’ll tell you about his last wish— please don’t move out. though, it would lack the necessary fucks to give since he’s dead but in case, he’s alive, in case, then you’d live with him. sounds like a plan. godbless to whatever sara and thoma have done, ayato is incapable of carrying out the general thinking procedure.

now he’s walking towards the door, fiddling with the key between his fingers. show don’t tell, show don’t tell, show don’t tell— fuck, if ayato ever paid attention to all the lessons about creative writing in highschool, he would’ve been the best selling author; which he is not. there’s a reason why he’s majoring in history, out of all the available options.

for some reason, ayato expected you to be home. if he remembers correctly, you only have half your lessons and he knows you wouldn’t attend half of those scheduled lessons to read webtoons in the library.

but you’re not home, and he’s going crazy. did you run away? oh god— what if you already moved out? surprise, with the haha, happy living alone note? he doesn’t wait another second before opening the door, coming across a living room that’s seemingly… normal.

he spots your plushie on the couch, your gaming console lying around like trash or whatever, and uh, a poster of some levi ackerman from that apocalypse au of the anime you watch after sacrificing sleep to you sleep paralysis demon. he remembers you ordering it a week ago, turns out it arrived this morning and you unpacked it, leaving it in the living room because you were getting late for classes.

you’re still living here, definitely. there’s no way you’re moving out without that silly poster of yours.

ayato picks it up, judging the man from head to his chest since that’s where the poster ends. he looks like a bergamot. that’s all, and ayato dumps the poster on the floor and leaves to take a shower.

it’s six in the evening.

you got drunk at two for absolutely no reason and passed out at your friend’s place. good for you, your hangover is evaporating. though, your head throbs like something else when you watch ayato in his silk robe after shower when he smells like the man you’d get on your knees for.

you don’t have high expectations this evening. it’s tuesday and ayato never returns on time when it’s tuesday. no he doesn’t drink and judging from how he’s always up at six on wednesdays, he doesn’t get laid either; which is actually good for you because you would never, ever, want any girl to sleep with your man, even though he isn’t yours.

you’re met with a pleasant surprise when you stand in front of your door with the keys in your hands, noticing that it’s already unlocked. perhaps, you can at least end your day with ayato in his finest attire. you smile, opening the door, your smile grows wider as you notice ayato’s shoes, it grows even wider when you smell freshly prepared creme pasta lingering in the air. you’re in for a ride. you step in further, eyes settling on your roommate who’s leaning against the kitchen counter with a wine glass in his hand— wait.

wait a damn minute.

wait a fucking second, that’s— ayato for sure— okay, you decide to take it from the bottom. that’s ayato wearing a silk pyjama, okay that’s new. new for you, maybe not for him, but you’re used to seeing him in silk robes with nothing beneath, you know, bare calves and feet. his toenails probably look prettier than yours. your eyes travel up further, completely leaving out the part you shouldn’t be thinking about especially when you’re still partly hungover, you see his abs— pause.

hold the fuck up, his abs? you blink, and look again, you stare at him for a better look. abs. fucking abs, you’re— but why abs?! no, you don’t complain. all you’ve ever seen is a part of his chest from the godsent chest window offered by his robes. nothing more, nothing below, not abs. never.

you— okay— you take a deep breath and process the situation. ayato is wearing the same silk robe, except it’s with pyjamas, however he didn’t tie it. he didn’t tie it, oh god— you’re watching kamisato ayato from the first seat, full access to his toned abs, you’re frothing at the mouth.

“welcome home, yn” silence. what. what. what the fuck did he say? no, ayato greets you everything but not like this. not in the seductive tone that makes your name sound a hundred times breathtaking and make you feel like you’re an empress to some crazy rich nation, not in a way where you can look at his abs, and he runs his fingers through his wet hairs before taking a sip from the wine. not in the sexy, knee weakening, voice that fills your brain with the visual depiction of ‘pregnant emoji’ over and over again.

you’re done. sold. dead. gone. mother of his kids, probably? you don’t mind because just when you thought you’re over your silly little crush on your roommate and ready to move out, he stands in front of you, looking like aphrodite’s son or just, aphrodite herself— except, this one’s male.

“yn, you okay there?” no no no, you’re not, you’re not. you’re not okay. you’re oscillating between having the time of your life and lying on your deathbed. it’s like you’re playing a quiz with your own mind where the first option is to die and the second option is to die as well. you’re— you’re failing to compose yourself and you’re sure if someone doesn’t drag you out of this, you will embarrass yourself horribly enough for you to dig a hole and decompose.

ayato chuckles. he chuckles. he has the audacity to chuckle at you after looking at that. does he even know about the effect he has on you? no, of course he doesn’t. he probably thinks it’s completely normal for him to stand in front of you, half naked, looking criminally hot; yeah no— someone needs to stop him.

“your face is red,” oh, i wonder why. “are you sick?” it’s such a rhetorical question, you’re not sure if he’s actually that innocent or whether he’s having fun teasing you like this. you nod, avoiding all sorts of eye contact and verbal conversation. you’ve figured out enough that if you open your mouth, it’ll get you in trouble. you’re bound to say something stupid, perhaps about how you want him to blow your back like a glowstick or something, or maybe you’d tell him to dress up and put on some clothes, despite the fact that you very much adore the scene in front of you right now, and make everything terribly awkward for the rest of your lives.

ayato smiles, putting his hand on your shoulder, and you feel several volts of electric current travelling down your spine. you’re getting butterflies, or perhaps the whole damn zoo with monkeys swinging off your ribs and vertebrates. you want to pass out. you want to faint right fucking now before something goes wrong because he’s standing right in front of you, and his hand is on your shoulder, and you’re getting a much much closer and clearer look at this toned muscles— you’re about to start barking.

“uh, i’ll go—” yes. leaving is the only option, the only correct option. exactly what you should do right now. gather your useless thoughts, run away, go to your room, take a cold shower, and don’t come out until ayato leaves for his classes the next day.

he smiles, taking his hand off your shoulder and you take a sign of relief. probably the best you’ve felt in months, really. “okay, i’ll set dinner.”

“i’m not hungry.”

“huh?”

“i’m not hungry, i feel sick. it’s uh— dysentery.” great. fucking marvelous. out of everything, it had to be dysentery.

“oh. do you need med—”

“no, i have benadryl.” you want to bang your head into the closest wall, want the ceiling to finally collapse, the tiles to break and take you inside. you just want to disappear because benadryl is a fucking cough syrup. you simply excuse yourself before he could ask anymore questions, hearing him suppress his laughter as you walk away. he probably knows you’re lying, doesn’t take a doctor to tell what a benadryl is; and you couldn’t thank him enough for pretending you’re absolutely right with the medications and letting you be.

you get inside your room, you shut the door, you lean against it and contemplate every decision you ever took in your life.

where did it go wrong?

was it the part when you moved in? damn, sure you should’ve moved out earlier. you should’ve ran away the day you saw a fine man like ayato standing in front of you, tagged as your roommate. you know you’d sell your soul or something for him, you are aware of the things you’d do for him, for ayato, because a man like him deserves the world. you should’ve moved out before your inner simp had started channelling herself.

you grab your clothes and decide to sit in the shower until you prune up and die. that’s probably the only right decision. you’re about to get inside the bathroom when you hear the doorbell, halting your steps as you hear footsteps approaching inside.

“hi,” that. that’s a woman. a lady, a female human, you didn’t think ayato would be capable of being friends with any other woman beside you and kujou sara.

now judging from the low, scarred intensity of the voice that’s reaching your ears, you can tell she’s a pretty woman. pretty like those campus crushes but in your head, she’s pretty like those main antagonists of some melodramatic television show that make you want to strangle her to death with every breath she takes. you don’t even know her but the way your fist clenches, it’s definitely jealousy piping out of you like candies from pez dispensers.

“i’m sorry for last night,” last— last what? “we can continue.”

continue what.

no. no fuck, you can’t.

if this is about what your rotten brain is thinking about then there’s no way they can continue. you’re here, in your room, the walls around aren’t soundproof and you aren’t ready for whatever obscene act they’re going to pull in his room, or perhaps in the living room because the woman seems to have zero patience.

“my roommate is here,” that’s ayato. yes. you nod in approval. tell her ayato. tell her to gather up her fantasies and desires and get he fuck out of your apartment. “hope you don’t mind.”

what.

of course, you mind. you didn’t sign up for some real life porn show when signing the papers for this apartment. moreover, you’re not stable and mentally, physically or emotionally strong enough to stand all the moans and groans that’ll fill up the room when he’ll do everything that you want him to do with you, and you’re thinking this with all your soberness.

“oh, she can join us! the more, the merrier.” no, never. you don’t want to join them in their silly little adventure. you’re not in for some monstrous threesome, as amazing as it sounds. you still have to live with ayato for around twenty-eight days and you can’t just join the two of them tonight and wake up the next day as if nothing ever happened.

you’re insane, but the sane part is still functional. your last two lovely, worn out brain cells are working day and night to keep you alive, successfully having you avoid all the pits of embarrassment and shame, you can not let them down.

you don’t hear ayato’s response, or perhaps, you want to pretend you didn’t. because you definitely heard something along the lines of ‘bend over,’ and then he cues some music.

it’s sway by michael buble. out of all the testosterone stimulating sex songs out there, ayato had to choose this. well, it doesn't change the fact that she’s living the life you’ve been dreaming for, ever since ayato moved in. you’re fucking glad the song is loud enough to block any R-rated sounds or else you would’ve suffered a trauma and piss your pants everytimes someone brings up sex the next time in your life.

you’re on your bed, covering your ears with your pillows, trying to sleep, while she’s in his arms, doing the deed. funny, very funny. is there a chance you would have completely misinterpreted the entire situation? maybe. but no woman randomly shows up at a man’s house after seven in the evening and the first thing she asks is to continue their last night activities.

you wish your ears would fall off and you’d forget everything you heard tonight. the sound of music isn’t helping you sleep and you can waltz to ayato and ask him to turn down the volume in middle of whatever the fuck they’re doing and infect your eyes and lose your virginity along with the last bits of your sanity, but you don’t have the balls to do so.

you don’t have the balls to do anything. maybe if you did, you would’ve told ayato about your feelings and maybe, tonight, it would’ve been you instead of that woman. so you just do what you can : bury yourself inside the covers and try to sleep.

maybe if you ignore it, it will go away.

waking up, you realise you haven’t had any sleep in the past twenty-four hours or so. maybe you did, thirty minutes, or so. that doesn’t count when all you’ve heard last night are some horribly weird sex songs and phrases like, ‘that feels so good,’ and other things along the same lines whenever the music stopped.

you looked at yourself in the mirror and almost passed out at the sight. horrible, literally. failing valak from the conjuring universe. actually, you can be the new valak except you’ll have real, actual, trauma and reason to haunt people.

what surprises you more is that you haven’t come out of your room since last evening and ayato didn’t even check up on you. not like he’s obliged to, but he must. despite the fact that he was probably having the best night of his life, he should have morals as a human who cares about another human; or, as a roommate, because what if you fell from bed and broke your back? what if you got stuck in a chair and died of poor circulation? he probably doesn’t care. you’re pretty sure he’ll call the woman from last night the moment he finds your body and they’ll dance and sing on your grave; maybe, even fuck around it too.

you want to get out of your room and go to the kitchen. you want to eat. but you’re scared the pair from last night would be passed out naked on the floor— nah, you’re not ready for that scene at seven in the morning. and this wouldn’t have been another issue to worry about if only ayato showed a little more patience and compassion and took her to his room.

well, you have to survive. there’s a harsher world out there.

you open the door and creep out of your room as if you’ve been meaning to steal something. you’re acting like this isn’t your apartment but the apartment of someone you’ve stolen a couple million dollars from. oh, and your eyes are closed. yeah. you’re not ready, not ready at all. you’d rather bump and fall and hit your head, die on spot; that'd be way better—

“oh, you’re up,” that’s a familiar voice. you’re sure, you look crazy standing in front of your room with your eyes closed, but that’s for another day. the main question is whether you should open your eyes or not. “you didn’t come out for dinner, i was waiting.”

your eyes shoot open.

okay. okay…

so, he’s not naked. thankfully, he’s dressed. fully dressed, in a white shirt with a top few buttons undone, black jeans or trousers, whatever they are. you miss the chest window, but you’re glad he’s dressed because you don’t certainly want to look at the scratches and marks from last night and add more trauma to your life.

“i told you, i had dysentery,” as if he believes you. the look on his face tells he doesn’t. no one would, you ruin things for yourself.

as expected, ayato is a goddamn liar. the ‘i was waiting,’ part sounds so fake now that you’re aware of what happened last night. because waiting while fucking someone doesn’t sound like waiting to you. more or less, it sounds like he was devouring his dinner while you were starving in your room.

“did you not sleep last night?” oh, yeah, of course not. he’s getting there, slowly, but he is getting to the point. you wonder who’s to be blamed for your lack of sleep and the reason why you woke up with only one living and semi-functional brain cell. “ah, is it because of me? was it too loud last night? i was busy.”

busy? yeah, he was busy working really hard blowing someone’s back or whatever. sounds like a tough job, but that’s none of your business. ( actually, it is ) you don’t want to have this conversation. you don’t know how to look him in the eyes. ayato, your roommate, your crush, he rocked someone else’s world while he knew you were in the apartment, probably hearing everything. for someone who’s rich enough to be featured in crazy rich asians, ayato surely does work a lot, and hard enough, at that.

you want to murder him. chop off his limbs and also the part he’s probably very proud of. you want to shave his head so that no girl approaches him in the future.

“oh, you probably don’t know about my work, do you?” no. you don’t want to. you don’t want to hear about the details, you’re not ready for this conversation. “i help my mom with physiotherapy,”

yes. yes therapy, sounds lovely. everyone needs it, especially him. wait, therapy? what kind of therapy is sex? well, it is some sort of therapy by the way, it makes you feel at ease— no, you’re swerving away from the topic ! okay, maybe you didn’t hear him correctly. he clearly said psychotherapy and he needs to get his licence revoked for the kind of therapy he is giving. it’s giving rise to more mental patients; you, for example.

“therapy?” you mutter, you didn’t mean to. you need to learn how to keep your thoughts to yourself, you lack severely in that department of life.

“yes, therapy for joints and bones? my mother is a physiotherapist and she taught me a thing or two,” oh. oh. physiotherapy. is that why he asked her to bend over? what was the need to put on music, though? you don’t understand ayato. actually, you don’t understand anyone in the kamisato family even though you’ve only met his sister so far.

now, you feel guilty for thinking about him in that light. apart from the potential visual representations of ayato from last night in your head, you have a very high respect for this man. you feel like you should get on your knees and apologise, offer a hand-written apology letter for thinking of him in such a non-PG-13 manner.

though, you don’t know how to apologise. you can’t possibly go ‘sorry, ayato, i thought you were busy having the best sex of your life when you were actually providing her therapy.’ that doesn’t even sound right. it makes you look like you need therapy, urgently. but you need to apologise for your sake. maybe, this is just the consequences of your actions or in this case, your imagination.

“i’m—” you open your mouth to speak, but ayato beats you to it.

“do you want to go out with me today?”

wait, what?

do what now?

go out with who?

it’s a question that catches you off guard, pushes off off the cliff, stops your heart. the monkeys in your stomach are alive again even though they suffer from utter embarrassment and guilt for assuming all sorts of things about ayato, and the perfect man he is.

you want to say yes. of course, no one in their right mind would reject such a golden opportunity to ride in his Bugatti La Voiture Noire that’s worth 18.7 million dollars as of when he purchased it. you remember you have a terminal disease where you spot one toned muscle and sell your conscience to whatever demon is out there. even though you don’t see any toned muscles, you see ayato’s collar bones thanks to those few undone buttons, you see the nerves of his arms thanks to the rolled up sleeves, you see him wearing an apron because he was making breakfast, what a malewife.

you’re sold, almost.

almost.

the offer is tempting, but your new apartment is more. you’re an adult and it's a fact even if you don’t want to believe it and want to become a cat who solely lives for aesthetic purposes. you need to earn for yourself and move out of this apartment instead of living in a hell just to fill a void called ayato in your heart.

“i have to go take a look at how the work at my new apartment is going,” you’re surprised at how sane and normal your response sounds. it’s truly concerning after everything that has happened since last evening and the trash that’s residing in your head.

you try your best to sound apologetic. you are, you really are, you’re missing out on ayato and his Bugatti La Voiture Noire of $18.7 millions, the one that people ( aka, you ) drool over every time they pass by. it’s an expensive sacrifice, literally and metaphorically, worth more than your life.

“well, that sucks,” ayato sighs, removing the apron in the most seducing way possible, proceeding to run his fingers through his hairs, looking like a mouth-watering, melt in the mouth, sizzling pork at seven-thirty in the morning. “i had plans for us,”

and you’re floored.

us. you like the sound of that. you and ayato, ayato and you, hot. very hot, very sexy, sounds like an eargasm, honestly. for a second, you think it’s a dream. it has to be. if not, then maybe he wants to take you to a shrine or something and have you cleansed from top to bottom for all the r-rated thoughts you’ve been having. but, that’s only possible if ayato has an idea of what’s going on inside your head. there’s no way he knows that, or maybe he does. you look at him like he’s the happy meal and you haven’t eaten in a good five-hundred years or so.

you’re too lost in your thoughts to focus on ayato until he leans in a bit closer, alerting every single neuron in your body as he shoots you a smirk, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “have fun, pretty.”

and here lies yn, twenty something, majoring in one of the available majors offered by her university. cause of death: kamisato ayato.

ayato lets out a desperate cry of help, sliding down the walls of thoma’s living room as soon as he enters thoma’s apartment, scaring the living shit out of his friends.

“go die somewhere else.” that’s sara again. you can’t blame her, she follows thoma like a pest because he’s a good cook, that’s it. food above everything else.

thoma walks to the entrance, sighing at the sight of his friend lying on the floor, dejected and lifeless, looking pale, running the beauty of thoma’s luxurious apartment tiled with granite floors. if it weren’t for his morals, he would’ve trashed ayato.

“i feel like a whore,” sara’s face scrunches up in disgust. maybe, judging from the way ayato talks about you, he is a whore. if not a whore, then something equivalent to it. “never knew i’d have to do this.”

sara leans against the wall that ayato just slid down out of pure despair. “do what?”

“seduce yn.” thoma practically pukes out all the water from his mouth at his friend’s words. “what, you both told me to do so!”

sara doesn’t believe his words. they say love is blind, but in this case it’s also ignorant and incapable of following the wise and helpful instructions provided. “how the fuck have you been seducing her?”

“um, with my skills?”

“don’t tell me.” the disappointment, in thoma’s voice, is astronomical. who would’ve thought that kamisato ayato, the heir to kamisato estate, excels in the art of idiocy. god really said he can either have looks or brains, and completely missed out on the latter. “ayato, i talked about cooking and cleaning and your homekeeping skills and not about your talents in bed.”

oh.

that’s right.

even though all ayato did was fluster you a little this morning— see, he’s disregarding what happened last evening. ayato assumes you’re used to seeing him half naked in his silk robe, with his drenched hair while he smells like primroses and sandalwood and everything else that’s featured in Dior’s men perfume collection. he thinks it’s normal. it’s his apartment, he gets to wear whatever he wants and make himself comfortable.

he doesn’t know what bed skills tho— wait, bed? skills? talent in bed? what? what? he’s not even marginally close to what thoma is thinking; and ayato is sure that he needs to get new friends before it’s too late.

“what ‘talents in bed’ are you even talking about?” ayato asks, finally standing up from the floor like the kamisato he is and slumping on the couch.

thoma deadpans. “do you seriously want me to elaborate?” no, probably not. never. thoma has experience in this field, you see, and ayato, as someone who has never even thought about this, doesn’t want him to explain and give details about every single move and curve— no.

ayato chooses his sanity over human reproductive knowledge.

“i— nothing happened, nothing! all i did was ask if she wanted to go out with me and,” he pauses, eyes travelling between thoma and sara simultaneously. the latter raises her eyebrows, gesturing to him to continue his precautionary tale about how to not treat your roommate. “and, and i might’ve flirted with her, a little, yeah.”

the embarrassment is evident in his voice.

ayato wants to liquify and evaporate. he wants thoma’s house to break down and kill everyone and him too. he wants the microwave to blast, just anything, anything that could save him from this conversation. now, flirting isn’t that bad in itself. it’s good, it’s fun, ayaka flirts with yoimiya when her inner lesbian unleashes itself. sara flirts with shogun for some goddamn reason and everyone thinks they have a thing or two going on because no one dares to talk to ei. itto flirts with himself in the mirror— it’s normal, completely, absolutely, certainly, normal-er than normal. normal-est.

ayato, however, doesn’t flirt. he doesn’t know how to flirt. the leisure art of flirting is beyond the luxuries this specific kamisato can afford. the last time he hit on someone was a cat, not even his ex-girlfriend, a cat. a feline. it scratched him. ayato refrains from flirting to avoid all sorts of innuendos—

a pause. the innuendos, the fucking innuendos, oh god. what if, what if you get the wrong idea? well, thoma and sara assumed that he has been trying to get laid with you so it only makes sense for you to assume the same after all that half-naked, bare-chested, sexy-wine-sipping, jazz last evening.

no no no—

he’s done. he’s done.

over.

if there’s someone who should move out, it’s him.

this life ruining emotionally stressing psychologically mortifying realisation makes him want to jump down the nearest window and pass out, then never wake up. he wants to trip on air and die of mesothelioma, wants to overdose on sparkling water and die of negativity in his life.

if he doesn’t die, he wishes for the earth to explode or something so that everyone else dies and humanity comes to an end. his day has been ruined, his disappointment and shame is immeasurable. kazuha better be ready to have an adopted brother because ayato is damn sure the kamisatos are kicking him out after this.

ayato doesn’t wait for his friends to say something. he simply walks out of thoma’s apartment, dejected in shame, hoping lighting will strike him in broad daylight on a day with clear skies. you’re not home, that’s great. you won’t be back anytime before evening because you’re out with your friends. no, actually, you’re out with miko and the new transfer students beidou and venti, who you are bound to get drunk and pass out with.

that’s good, it’s great. a godsent opportunity. there are two possibilities: first, either you come home remembering everything and move out the very next day or second, you forget everything thanks to alcohol. he hopes it’s the second one. alcohol does wonders water could never. those two molecules of hydrogen and one molecule of oxygen don’t do shit when it comes to forgetting memories. alcohol, on the other hand, is capable of doing miracles.

like the time he got home downright wasted and almost kissed you senseless while you were helping him clean up. he can swear, he saw the blush on your cheeks. but maybe, that was just fatigue since you had to wake up at two to deal with him.

yeah, alcohol, a godly drink.

he reaches home, grabs a beer can from the refrigerator and makes himself comfortable on the couch. ayato wants to forget everything, hoping you’d forget it all too.

“ayato,” you whisper his name, shaking his shoulders gently in an attempt to wake him up. not like you want to, the sight of him sleeping soundly is healing you and washing off your sins. one does not see the kamisato ayato sleeping on the couch with flushed cheeks because of drinks and a shirt that’s almost half-a-way undone everyday.

it’s a godly sight. a scenery. mother nature could never. you genuinely want to thank his parents for the masterpiece they have created.

you shouldn’t sit next to the couch and gawk at him while he’s sleeping. that’s creepy. what if he wakes up? imagine waking up to your roommate staring at you with the utmost attention. creepy, and moreover, you wouldn’t be able to face him.

but again, he looks like the man you’d like to have as your boyfriend. scratch that, your husband, if not more. as if, anything more remains, but whatever. you smile, it’s a chuckle. you chuckle. you chuckle out loud, hand flying to your mouth immediately, hoping he doesn’t wake up.

you reach out for his face, tracing his nose as superficially as possible, a faint gasp escaping your lips as he shifts a little. great. you have woken him up. his eyes flutter open and you quickly compose yourself, leaning away from him as you realise about the close proximity between him and you.

ayato groans as he turns to his right, eyes landing on you sitting on the floor right next to him, eyes wide open like a deer caught in the headlights. a second passes, you’re okay. the next second, you’re not.

you’re panicking.

you’re experiencing all sorts of emotions at once because ayato just woke up and he probably knows you’ve been sitting here, watching him sleep for god knows how long. time is a social construct either way, who the fuck cares— okay, you’re swaying from the topic once again. and not to mention he looks extremely hot with messed up hair and those flushed cheeks. you’re barely composing yourself.

did you mention that ayato has excellent facial features? he looks even more stunning up close. you know you should get up and walk away. hide yourself inside your room, live in solitary confinement for the rest of your life, or at least till ayato is around. but you don’t, because you’re staring at ayato, and he’s staring back at you. it’s like you’ve frozen in your place, you’re pretty sure you’d forgotten to breathe, if that even makes sense?

“hi,” he mutters, whispers, in his godly, eargasmic voice, and you feel like you’re hearing melodies of careless whisper ringing in your ears.

no, you’re not sitting on the floor anymore. you stand up, pretending nothing ever happened, as if you didn’t stare at him sleeping and continued to stare for five solid minutes even after he had woken up. a very reliable solution, playing pretend always proves to be useful.

“you can wash up, i’ll prepare the hangover soup,” you mutter, making your way to the kitchen, hearing him shuffle on the couch as he sits straight. ayato doesn’t remember a lot from the events that happened prior to your arrival, yet, which is fantastic. marvels of alcohol, everyone.

“don’t go,” he mumbles, and you stop on your way. “don’t move out,” ayato doesn’t think before speaking, he never does. he doesn’t trust himself. he said you’re just a roommate, nothing less, nothing more, but he has been devastated ever since you told him you’ll be moving out. maybe, that was all a lie. maybe, this isn’t just platonical. maybe, you have always been a little more than just a roommate to ayato.

it’s like the fireworks are going off all around you. you’re still processing his words, wondering if he really means them because in the end, he’s drunk. partially, completely, he is drunk. and you can never trust alcohol and its consequences.

so, you simply decide to play along, hoping he won't remember this conversation the next day. “is there a reason for me to stay?”

“i am,” another quick reply, and you’re losing your mind. it’s like the ground beneath you is shaking. your heart is accelerating so fast, you’re scared it’ll come out of your chest. it’s not your first time witnessing a drunk ayato who has gone batshit crazy, but it is your first time having him look at you with an expression you’ve never seen on his face before. at least not with regards to you.

he sighs, getting up from the couch before making his way towards you with every step increasing your already racing heartbeat. and before you know it, he’s already standing in front of you, barely a few inches apart as he cups your face, eyes settling on your lips. “please remind me if i forget any of this tomorrow,”

rest all feels like a dream because ayato, your roommate, the guy you’ve had a crush on ever since he moved in, the man you’d bark for— not literally, maybe, is kissing you. he’s not just kissing you, he’s kissing you, as in literally slotting his lips against yours, pulling you closer with every second that passes. he’s kissing you like the world will end tomorrow and even if it does, you don’t mind. you don’t fucking mind if the house burns to ashes and a truck runs you over the very next day because this is everything you’ve wished for in past two months ( you know, besides having a place with better living conditions to call house )

“ayato—” no he doesn’t let you speak. instead, he nibbles on your lips, soft gasps for air twirling in between as he frames you against the kitchen counter. no, this isn’t your first kiss. you’ve had relationships, but nothing compares to this moment. no other kiss compares to how he’s kissing you and how it feels like you’re on an amusement park ride where the adrenaline gets the best of you and suddenly, you’re drowning between pleasure and thrill.

that is what kissing ayato is like.

it’s like going to heaven and back in just the way his hands ghost up your cheeks and slot them against your waist, your hands wrapping around his neck as his tongue slightly brushes against your bottom lips, and without a second thought, you let it in. kissing ayato is like gravitating towards a black hole, it’s like lying at the rock bottom and falling even deeper. you’re not sure if you should be doing this right now, especially when he’s drunk, but the taste of alcohol against your tongue inhibits your thought process, allowing your feelings to get the best of you.

he pulls away, lips brushing against yours as you lean in to capture them in another kiss, only for him to retract. needless to say, it leaves you a little embarrassed. ayato cups your cheeks once again, making you look into his eyes with his warm breath fanning on your face. “i love you,” that’s all he says before navigating his lips to yours once again.

you’re not sure if you heard him right. of course, you did. you have a good sense of hearing and there’s no way you’re missing such an important detail, but— love, you don’t know how sober that is. you don’t know how much of this kiss, and every sensation that you’re sharing with each other, is genuine. you don’t know how sober ayato is, you don’t know whether this is because of the alcohol or if he actually loves you. so, you put his hands on his chest, pushing him away as he stares at you with an expression ranging between confusion and heartbreak.

you kiss the inside of his palms, shooting him a sweet smile, before walking into your room. “say that again when you’re sober.”

note two. hello if you made it this far im in love you and sending you all the, uh, things that you like ?? probably ?? yeah. trust me, i never knew i'd end up writing a 10,310 words long fic about ayato and reader simping over each other, in around five hours, two days before my english exam. but this had to be done. i had the rough draft in my keep ever since i made my genshin acc ( hi hi to people who remember my nezlys era ) i had to elaborate. i hope you liked this ?? not the kind of writing you want to see or even write, when this is your first post for a fandom but c'mon. it's about ayato. i had to do this for ayato in silk robe when he's freshly out of shower smelling like primroses and sandalwood and everything else from Dior's men perfume collection

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3K notes · View notes

lil-elle · 5 months

Note

Can u write how we wake up with xikers? I think they could be really sweet like, kissing your cheeks in the morning 😭😭😭

This is so cute and sweet please-

Waking up with XIKERS

pairs: bf!xikers x gn!reader

genre: fluff, established relationship

word count: 1.2k

content: just sleepy kisses and cuddles

a/n: if you're the anon that requested this same thing on my other account before I accidentally deleted it, thank you so much for requesting again T-T

Minjae:

Would get to bed late and wake up late, you’d always be out of bed before him

You’d walk in, sit down on the side of the bed and say good morning and he’d just sleepily open his eyes before pulling you down to cuddle

Giggle while trying to push him off you but he just buries his face in your neck

You’d eventually get away and place a kiss on his lips, which he’d reciprocate very sleepily and mumble something inaudible

If you bring up his sleepy behaviour later, he’ll deny it with red ears, embarrassed

Junmin:

You’d both wake up to his alarm super early and you’d try to turn it off and go back to sleep but he’d pepper your face with kisses while telling you to get up, his voice crackly and deep

He’d start getting ready for the day while you sit up, trying to rub the sleep from your eyes

He’d bring you a coffee in bed, a fluffy hairband pulling his hair back so he can do his skincare routine

By the time he’s done his skincare, you’ve managed to pick yourself up out of bed. He’d come over to you, wrap his arms around your waist and place more kisses on your sleepy face, mumbling “Morning sleepy…”

He’d then make you and him braeakfast and more coffee !!

Sumin:

You’d sleep in late together, tangled up in the sheets until noon

You start pulling away from him to finally get up and he’d pull you back, refusing to let you move, groaning softly into the top of your head

You’d have to drag him out of bed with you

He’d be so clingy when he’s sleepy, draped over you as you brush your teeth and do your skincare

Once he finally started to wake up he’d be so lovey, wanting kisses from you, tracing the veins on your hands while you try and eat your breakfast

Jinsik:

The first thing he’d do after opening his eyes is smile and greet you, “Good morning, love ♡” his voice deep and soft

He’d smile wider as you grumble softly, still sleepy

The type to just caress your face and hair gently as you wake up, allowing you to take your time

He’d absolutely adore your sleepy sounds, giggling softly whenever you groaned or mumbled

If you were really tired certain days, he’d bring you coffee and breakfast in bed

Hyunwoo:

He’d wake up pretty easily, saying good morning and asking how you slept while softly stroking your arm to help you wake up a little faster

You’d do your skincare together, giggling and teasing each other the whole time

On days where you’re extra sleepy, he’d sit you up and do your skincare on you, carefully running his fingers over your face with each product, accidentally putting you even more to sleep

He’d talk your ear off, telling you every detail of the dream he had

He’d try to make breakfast for you, but knowing how bad he is at cooking, you’d insist to cook together

Junghoon:

Another chronic cuddler, clinging to you and not allowing you to move without even realising it

Extra silent in the morning, responding to you with a series of soft grunts and hums

You’d start softly petting his head and he’d immediately begin closing his eyes and falling asleep again

If you kissed him good morning, he wouldn’t even have the reflexes to respond, but his cheeks and ears would still go pink and he wouldn’t be able to bite back a soft smile

On many days, just seeing his cute sleepy face would coerce you into staying in bed and cuddling with him longer

Seeun:

He always lets his alarm ring, annoying you after a while. You’d turn to him and push his sleep mask up, watching him sleepily blink to adjust to the light

He’d immediately grab you and pull you against him, trying to fall back asleep while mumbling “I don’t wanna get up...let’s sleep in, babe…” in his gravelly deep morning voice

You’d try to poke him or bite him to get him to let you go but he’d just laugh at tease you, “It’s so early and you’re already so feisty~”

He’d eventually give in, letting you go and kissing you good morning before getting up. He’d then laugh at your red face after he kisses you so unexpectedly

On days where you didn’t want to get up or didn’t feel well, he’d carry you in a bridal carry out of bed, insisting that you should at least wash your face and eat (while still teasing a little)

Yujun:

The type to be so sleepy that he forgets that he’s not the only one in the bed. He’d always be shocked at first after opening his eyes and seeing your sleeping face in front of him, before eventually coming to his senses and poking your sleepy cheeks

You’d always wake up to him smiling so wide at you. He’d just watch you happily as you yawn and stretch, so in love with you

He'd get up and insist you could stay in bed because he would do everything today, but you refused, getting out of bed as he pouted

But you'd thank him, placing a soft kiss on his lips and watching his face go bright red and the smile creep back onto his lips

You'd start to make breakfast for him and he'd continuously be trying to push you out of the way and help

Hunter:

You'd wake up and he'd already be up and out of bed

You'd sit up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, and he'd enter the room with a beautifully delicious breakfast for you with a coffee made just the way you like it

He'd place the breakfast down but he wouldn't let you dig in before kissing you good morning

He'd listen to you talk about how you slept and the dream you had as you ate, paying attention to every word

He'd wipe your mouth after you were done and place another kiss on your lips, unable to resist

Yechan:

He'd wake up to an alarm as well, rustling his hand through the sheets trying to search for his phone, eventually finding it and shutting it off with a soft groan

He'd turn to you and see your sleepy face, messed up hair, and a little spot of drool on your lip and smile

He'd absolutely love just watching you as you sleep, not in a creepy way, just because he adores you so much that you're extra beautiful to him when you sleep

He'd watch as you slowly wake up, meeting his love filled eyes

He'd immediately pull you into a bear hug, rolling on top of you and almost crushing you as he kissed all over your face

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

TAGLIST:

@hyunromi @chocoeon @hyunukitty @minjaezed

#xikers #xikers fluff #xikers imagines #xikers fanfic #xikers x reader #xikers minjae #xikers junmin #xikers sumin #xikers jinsik #xikers hyunwoo #xikers junghoon #xikers seeun #xikers yujun #xikers hunter #xikers yechan

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deathofpeaceofmiiind · 2 months

Text

illicit affairs | one

*Ellie’s POV*

It’s been a whole year since I left. I thought it would be harder to live without Noah, but it wasn’t. It was almost a sigh of relief getting out of his world. I blocked them all out for the most part. I stopped listening to their music, unfollowed all their social media accounts, deleted all my photos of them. It was as if that part of my life never existed.

I settled into my new life quite happily and Tyler and I finalized our divorce with no problems, much to my surprise. Liam lives with me full time and Tyler takes him whenever he’s able or if I need him to. I got a new job working for the hospital as a case manager, which meant I was able to work from home. It gave me the freedom to my work schedule around my life instead of the other way around. Everything was falling into place…until today. I dropped Liam off at daycare, came home and got straight to work. I took a few sips of my iced matcha while I read through my emails, today looked like it was going to be a light workload luckily. As I was finishing up my last report, my phone started to ring beside me. I still jumped a bit when my phone rang, half expecting Noah to reach out for some reason. It was Danielle so I picked up. “Hey.” I answered as I put my phone on speaker so I could finish my work. “Wow you actually answered me.” I sighed, I hadn’t been the best at answering my phone lately, “Yeah. Sorry about that.”

“It’s okay. I just called to ask you about tonight.”

“Why would I want to do that to myself?” I huffed as my stomach started to turn. The band was in town tonight on their new tour, which I wanted to avoid at all costs.

“Matt really misses you, he wants you there.”

“I don’t want to be put in a position where I see Noah.” I felt tears sting my eyes as I said his name. Even though I wanted nothing to do with him, it still hurt to even talk about him.

“Look, I talked to Matt and he promised me Noah wouldn’t find out you’re there.”

“I somehow doubt that. He’s probably hoping I’ll be there”

I felt Danielle’s annoyance in the tone of her voice the more stubborn I became, “Fuck him, I’m talking about being there for Matt. He’s been trying to reach out to you.”

“I know” I swallowed. I started getting dodgy with my texts and stopped replying to him the second he mentioned the tour dates. He wanted me to be there so bad, but I don’t know if I could do it. The idea of being in that atmosphere, hearing those songs again and being near Noah was too much. I worked so hard to close that door. If I went back, it would be for nothing. “Ellie, please. I can only be the messenger for so long, and I don’t want to see you lose one of your best friends like him.” A few tears escaped my eyes, she was right. I’ve really missed him and I haven’t seen him since we said goodbye at the airport. He always asked if I wanted to come see him, or the other way around, but I always made up some excuse why it couldn’t happen. He really did save me a lot of trouble after LA, I guess I owned him this much. “Ok, I’ll go under one condition.” “What’s that?” She replied with some excitement in her voice. “If Noah realizes I’m there, I’m leaving.” “I’ll come pick you up at 5.” I hung up the phone and just sighed. I really had no idea what I was in for.

#bad omens #fanfic #noah sebastian

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brindletonbabee · 6 months

Note

Die in traffic dumb bitch!

RE: blacksimlish, her outlandish remarks, allegations & strange case of main character syndrome + her group of minions.

once you start accusing people of things that are not only detrimental to their reputation, but also just insanely inaccurate, how they defend themselves is neither here nor there.

there’s no rules to this shit. they minimized this to it being just “sims” out of convenience, it fits the narrative they’re pushing. if im being harassed for months and weeks on end & then being accused for being amongst the same accounts doing that nasty behavior, im going to be as out pocket as the rumors & attacks are. it stopped being about sims when my character was attacked. it stopped being about sims when the name calling started and it stopped being about sims when ole girl’s personal information was leaked. im not going back and forth publicly anymore, but once my account is unlocked i will be reaching out to yall, trust that!

at no point have i ever excused or justified the doxing. i think that is something that is dangerous and overall unnecessary. if this continues to be a concern, i urge all of those involved to bring law enforcement into this matter. since it has become about safety, please seek all necessary legal means to resolve the matter. as i will fully cooperate to my accounts being subpoenaed and searched for its activity.

blacksim (whose first name is just learned today after her information was leaked btw!) gets to still be accusatory and proceed to be confused as to why she’s getting the reaction she is. the same language she’s using, if someone else said it to her she would be going on a rampage and weaponizing her blackness. but again, defending yourself is only fine when it’s them. defending your character is only acceptable when it’s that group. she is the only person that has ever been attacked on the internet, so anyone who retaliates is wrong.

you’re grasping at straws picking certain words to point the finger, when the reality is no one knows who did that. but AGAIN, they want someone to blame and me being as outspoken as i am made me one of the targets. COOL. what sense does it make to go to tumblr and send someone hate message anonymously when i’ve been arguing with you and your clique publicly? or are yall going to say ive sent this to myself?

the delusion has to stop. apparently im the first and ONLY person to use “woe is me”. to sit and search my tweets is obsessive and weird. all it proves is yall have been watching for months out of jealousy, seething at the mouth waiting to pounce.

i’ll defend my character however i see fit the same way you all do. i won’t be deactivating, deleting or hiding anything, i won’t be apologizing, i won’t be taking anything back. to sit up until 4am when other parties have stopped responding, creating a twitter space to keep talking about it & being weird just genuinely shows the drama is what fuels you. i’m not giving this shit anymore light publicly. for those who want the context, it’s there and they’ve found it and reached out to me.

you provoked a group of people for months on end & we all got tired of your harassment. period point blank. none of us doxed you, we told everyone on twitter about accounts that solely were around to harass, bully and send threats. at no point was that brought up to justify what was done. no one laughed about you being doxed. none of us encouraged it. there is no proof to that and it’s all talk.

again, i implore you to involve law enforcement if you feel your safety is at risk and i will be more than happy to have my lawyer speak on my behalf. unlike others, the lawyer talk is very legit. i don’t play about defamation. reach out to chat further regarding legal action so i can provide the necessary information. thank you.

#stop bothering me #stop being weird #go touch grass #stop speaking on me #mumbling and cackling #it’s weird #how you so scared but sat up until *checks notes* 4 am laughing and lying on a twitter space about the shit?#bye girl #we’re the problem yet my socials have been receiving comments and threats all while you sat on twitter spaces yapping your gums.#the call is coming from inside the house

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enluv · 9 months

Text

sleeping under the stars ⋆ ˚｡⋆☆ !

coco’s love note: before anything, i wanted to say thank you to everyone who has supported me through my journey on this platform, honestly from the bottom of my heart I’m so thankful for you all and appreciate it so much, all the comments, rbs, like, asks, tags, literally everything means a lot to me!! i love being able to write and share my works with you, and it makes me overjoyed when you also read and enjoy them :) i am terrible when it comes to these types of paragraphs but I do want to say thank you again, and I will continue to keep writing for you as much as I can <3 (p.s: thank you to all my wonderful moots who encourage me to write everyday not only with their words but their own works as well !!)

sleepover? what’s that! - well let me explain, I will be hosting a night where we can all come to this blog and stay up with some cute little activities that I have planned out just for us :) below I will explain all the activities we will be having at our sleepover!!

when is it? - july 24th @ 10 PM cdt! – so get your questions and everything ready for the night to come :) !! feel free to send them in already so they’re ready to be answered on the 24th !!

rules? - be respectful, check the open slots - once slots are filled any asks sent after will be deleted, follow the rules for each activity as stated, please be following me if you are participating in my event and do not send in an ask if you aren’t because you’ll be taking slots from my actual followers (moots you can ignore if slots are filled and still send in an ask for an activity!)

the groups for this event are the following - enhypen, tomorrow x together, stray kids, and seventeen.

PSA: please note that you can participate in multiple activities but for activity #2 & #3 I ask that you pick between the two so that others will have a chance to join as well!

onto the fun, what activities will we be doing?! - we will have three main activities to participate in!! and below I will explain them to you as best as I can with examples !!

activity number one: ask the characters!

how to participate? - as many of you know I have a handful of writings on this account, and even more to come! but i wanted to offer you the chance to get the answer to any questions you’ve ever had when reading my works, anything left unsaid by a series or fic that I’ve posted! the way this works is you can send in an ask with the name of the series or work or character you’re curious about and they will answer your question!! you can also ask me any questions if you’d like <3 (this idea was given to me by an anon!)

example(s): “ activity #1 - I have a question for soft launching jay, how did you meet your y/n?” and he’ll answer the question for you !! OR “this if for activity #1 and I have a question for coco, in three exes blank says this and I was wondering if it meant anything deeper?” !!

activity number two: drabbles & drabbles!

how to participate? - drabbles are some of my favorite things to write, so this is simple enough, send me an idol from the groups i stated above and a word and I’ll write you a drabble based on how I interpret that word! make sure to be specific, include the activity number along with the word, idols name, and group - this activity will have a limit after a certain number so make sure to check back here to see if it’s open !!

example(s): “hi coco, this is for activity #2 - my idol choice is felix from skz and my word is dreamy” OR “for activity two - my idol is yeonjun (txt) and my word is petrichor”

— CLOSED!

activity number three: alexa play cupid (read: matchups!) !!

how to participate? - have you ever wanted to know which idol you’d end up with? ever thought, hmm he’s perfect for me! we’ll look no further, in this activity I will match you up with the perfect idol for you!!

– all YOU have to do is send (ALL) the following: your name, if you are a minor or adult, an idol with the same personality as you, favorite song, zodiac sign, and a hobby you enjoy doing !! please include all of these, if your ask does not include them they will be marked as invalid!

example: “hey coco this is for activity #3 - my name is (name), i’m an adult, an idol with my personality is beomgyu, my favorite song is (insert song), my zodiac sign is taurus, and a hobby I enjoy doing is crocheting!!” OR “hello this is for activity #3 my name is (name/pseudo), I’m a minor, an idol with my personality is jake from enhypen, my favorite song is (insert song), my zodiac sign is cancer, and a hobby I have is going to the gym”

— CLOSED!

coco’s love note: once again, thank you so much for 3k followers, I hope we continue to grow and you have fun with this event! & thank you to all my moots who read this over and helped me make it the best possible <3

#˚ ༘✶ ⋆｡˚ coco’s 3k milestone event!#and again I just want to say thank you to everyone #i hope you enjoy this silly little event I’ve planned <3 #i love and adore you all !!#coco hits a milestone <3

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hausofperses · 1 year

Text

Merry Christmas, Haus of Perses members!

Alright, so sappy H post here, but man when G first found me on my indie account (by coincidence) never would I have thought the Haus would get back up and running! I even told him I didn't have much interest in a group anymore because since Tumblr started changing things years back the role-play community seemed to dwindle. He mentioned past members to whom he's still connected with, bringing up not only his own memories but now their's as well, and of course my own memories of my time writing here came flooding in and I just couldn't stop thinking about what joy this group had brought to me. The Haus of Perses was my first real significant role-play group that I was an admin of, and it was PHENOMENAL during it's first run (open well over a year - maybe even a few I can't remember exactly).

Fast forward to opening day on October 14th, and man did the dash come alive when we were officially open! Threads were getting thrown around left and right, there was plotting, our event to open the group went off without a hitch. Just like the first go around the Haus was fantastic, and it was during that first opening week that I realized that having this place open once more truly gave me so much joy.

I loved being an indie writer, but there's just something about being a part of a group, of connecting storylines and building relationships, and I was missing that until the reopening of the haus. I felt complete again as a writer, all thanks to you lovely members, and of course G who I wouldn't have opened this place without. Much appreciation and love to you G, you're the perfect second half to this mod team.

In the last two months we have seen many members come and go, some returning after realizing this place truly is something special, and of course we have the ones who have stayed with us since opening and continue to help us thrive on the daily. The members here truly feel like a little family, and in our ooc discord we celebrate each others triumphs as well as pick each other up when we're feeling down. They're the best community of writers and I am so beyond thankful to be a part of this group because of them!

Remember, a role-play group is only as good as it's members, which means we are amazing because of each and every one of you, and what you're continuously putting into your roles around here! We wouldn't still be open without you, so please know from the bottom of the mod teams hearts that each of you are truly appreciated and loved!

That being said, because Christmas is a time for giving, G and I have discusses what we can give to you guys as a thank you for all of the time and effort you give to us! We want to see this group continue to thrive and remain open for a long time to come because it does really feel like home (for me anyway). I can come to this group after a long day of work and it's just relaxing and settling - so for all that you have all given me, I want to return the favor with two gifts of my own. Activity checks will be stopped from now until January third. We do not want members to stress about having to get online and post to avoid deletion, or to have to jump to send us a hiatus request just to be safe. It's the holiday season, you should not be stressing about anything other than the amount of holiday treats you consume (I say eat all the treats this time of year hah)! This group is meant to be fun and not stressful, so do not worry about activity during this next week! We'll be here when you are, happily replying to threads, and there will be an event to keep those who remain active happy! Once the third rolls around we will start enforcing activity guidelines again, but until then we want zero stress for you guys!

As of today, we are now allowing a fourth character to be brought in. Before today our cap had been only three, and we know that this drove a bunch of members nuts because they had so many fantastic ideas of men that could bring into the haus, but they were already at their limit of three therefore stuck. G and I talked it over, and actually we had been discussing this for over a month, because our members have all been great and deserving of a fourth character slot. We thought this to be the best gift of all to give our members who are chomping at the bit to bring someone else around, so happily we are changing our rule to allow a fourth character instead of just three.

Those are our two big gifts to you guys, please take them as our tokens of appreciation towards each and every one of you!

Much love through this holiday season!

#hopnotice

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owlpartytime · 1 year

Text

Days of Thranto Past Appreciation Post Day 25

Rather than writing new this Thrantovember, I am featuring the works of others that I love. Most of these are probably well known already, but it's always someone's first time seeing a fic! Rules were: 1. Story must be completed, and 2. Thranto must be the primary focus of the story. I'm featuring 2 a day (because I couldn't cut the list down) at random - I'd love to hear your thoughts on the selections (and please give the authors some love, too!)

Today's featured stories:

That Which Consumes

Past the door, everything changed.

It was an intangible change, though, less of a concrete thing than a shift in Eli's perceptions—he sensed it in the air, some animal instinct deep within him rising up in fear. Pitch-black in here, just like in the maintenance tunnel—they had life support and grav generators, but no lights, apparently—but the airfeltthicker, as if his movements were made in higher gravity than was registered on the techs' scanners. The stormtroopers had propped the door open, and the clean air from the tunnel slashed through the miasma within the corridor. Eli wanted to go back. He didn't, of course.

"Technician Bartel, your readings," Thrawn said coolly. If he felt the same tension Eli did, he gave no sign of it.

"Same as the tunnel, sir," Bartel said after consulting his scanner. "But I'm picking up something else—organic matter on the bulkheads."

Another fic that I am endlessly happy and thankful that the author decided to set free rather than delete. The first Thranto horror fic I remember reading, and one that lives in my head rent-free. The dread and anxiety is palpable throughout and I adore it.

cautionary orbits by skycatcher

“We have not had the opportunity,” Thrawn told her sincerely, except when Thrawn actually wanted something he blew up ships to get it. Che’ri snorted and disguised it as a cough. Thalias smothered her expression behind a tactful hand.

Considering the events that had taken place between their last, and by all accounts, brief interaction pre-purrgil, Mak’ro was unsurprised. Unsurprised, but unsympathetic. This, whatever this was, was causing untold havoc on his officer corps. Mak’ro carefully put the teapot down on the small side table.

“What is he to you?” demanded Mak’ro. “An investment? An asset?”

“They are not mutually exclusive,” began Thrawn, then stopped at the murderous look on Mak’ro’s face. He said finally, “A friend.” Or at least, he had been.

Leave it to Thrawn to find his kindred spirit, only to send them across a galaxy and a half with no guarantee of them ever meeting again. A friend.

Un-fucking-believable.

Impatient Mak'ro is the best Mak'ro, especially when having to deal with Thrawn and Eli's respective nonsense. Everyone in this delightful fic is turned up to 11 and I love it for that.

#days of thranto past #Thranto #Thrawn #eli vanto #ship tag #sw fanfic #fic rec #i love these #fic recommendation

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lindsaywesker · 1 year

Text

Good morning! I hope you slept well and feel rested? Currently sitting at my desk, in my study, attired only in my blue towelling robe, enjoying my first cuppa of the day. Happy Hump Day!

You may have read the shocking story in America (yes, another one) about a black boy who went to the wrong house to pick up his siblings and was shot twice by 84-year-old white man, Andrew Lester. Mr. Lester shot him once through the glass door and, as he lay on the ground outside, shot him again (to make sure he was dead!) Ralph, a 16-year-old from Kansas City, Missouri, had been sent to pick up his younger twin brothers at a friend’s house but mixed up the address, finding himself in front of a house on Northeast 115th Street, instead of Northeast 115th Terrace. Thankfully, Ralph survived and is now at home with his family. Andrew Lester has now been charged with first-degree assault and armed criminal action. My question is: why are some people white people so AFRAID of black people? Afraid for their life!

We’re watching ‘Wellmania’ on Netflix – which we’re now kinda getting into it – and the lead characters said something like, “These are not your people. One day you’ll find your people.” Do you understand what that means? Have you ever found yourself within a crowd of people (or trying to fit into a crowd of people) and you suddenly realise you DON’T fit in? It’s a devastating realisation. You might have spent a lot of time trying to be part of it, trying to enjoy it; you might have spent a lot of time and money and emotional energy trying to fit in and then you suddenly realise … you don’t! Not saying that’s happened to me – I’ve got wonderful friends everywhere – but I’m sure some people find themselves in that situation.

My hacked Instagram is spewing out beggy-beggy messages again! People tell me they have been responding with anger and sarcasm. What’s the point? It’s just a bot! People say they have reported it. What’s the point? Instagram don’t give a f*ck! People: the account was hacked LAST YEAR! If you are STILL subscribed to that OLD Instagram profile (and hundreds of people still are), please UNFOLLOW IMMEDIATELY, or the bot will keep promising you money and, once they have your bank account details, the bot will empty your bank account! I already have a new IG account (wesker.lindsay). And watch out for MORE scammers leaving 'helpful' comments underneath this post! If they're offering some phone number or email address, DON'T go there!

‘Loose Women’ created a Twitter poll asking the question, “Should protesting be banned?” When the results came back 96% ‘No’, the post was suddenly deleted. Hmm … wonder who asked for that poll to be created and I wonder who wanted the results quickly deleted?

Needless to say, if the immensely-talented Bukayo Saka would like to come to a club where he isn’t viciously and racially abused by HIS OWN SUPPORTERS, we will happily have him at The London Stadium!

After a very long Easter break, term resumes at the other place I teach. Looking forward to seeing my Wednesday students. Really nice people and a lot of fun to work with. Discussion is spirited and always entertaining but, by the time I get home, I am spent!

Have a wonderful and well-endowed Wednesday. I love you all. Yes, a crazy, bald man loves and cares about you.

#mixcloud #mi soul #dj #music #new blog #lockdown #coronavirus #books #weekend #democracy #brexit #cronyism #election #radio

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teenytinykittenbeans · 1 year

Text

Well now...

Here I am on this site again. It's been a few years since I deleted my last account. It's been 15 years since I first joined tumblr. It was my second social media account (after myspace). I still remember learning about tumblr through one of my bestfriends, and then it just spread like wildfire during high school. It was back when WeHeartIt was the equivalent of Pinterest. We'd sift through so many photos to pick out the ones we liked, download them, then upload them to our tumblr "blog" (with absolutely no credit ICK). Back then, tumblr was fun. But also so toxic. The anon messaging feature was honestly a terrible idea for anyone under 18yo. There was so much nasty bullying. It gave people the ability to be really two-faced... But, it also connected us in a way myspace didn't. The openness of tumblr made you feel connected to others. Apart from seeing pictures of them, you saw photos of things they liked, pieces of poetry and quotes that symbolized what they were going through, you saw their interactions with others, you got to find out what kind of music they liked, you got to know other's sense of humor, etc. Idk. It was such an interesting environment, apart from the abusive anons.

And yeah, with my gen getting older, I think we stopped sitting on tumblr and started to go out and experience more things irl. We got jobs, we found new hobbies, some of us just needed change, some of us had kids, etc... The site just stopped feeling as special as it once did. A lot of kids I grew up on tumblr with drifted off... some of us deleted our accounts, and a few stayed...

I think I'm partially back here for the nostalgia. I don't know how long I'll stay. Instagram focuses too much on overall presentation and narrow branding. Tiktok is about playing a character and getting famous. Facebook is full of ads and dull. Snapchat hasn't been enjoyable for me in years. Pinterest is nice for inspiration, but it's system of sharing data based on an algorithm feels messy... And I think that's ultimately it. I miss caring about the people I'm seeing stuff posted by. I miss caring about genuine existences, online.

----

My life is so different now from what it was at 15yo. But some things remain the same...

I feel like I'm going through it again, in a similar way to what I experienced at 18. I've lost confidence in myself. I still have such a hard time believing long term goals can become reality, for myself. I'm scared I'm not capable of giving anything good back to anyone. I'm so emotionally unavailable, but really in need of therapy and mending. I'm completely disconnected from my families. I struggle with feeling like I'll ever live up to any standard, no matter how hard I try. I struggle with finding self worth outside of how others view me and treat me.

(Yeah, if you're a youngin' and you've got some kind of financial means of tackling your depression: please deal with it, asap. It comes and goes, but it never permanently goes away. You just learn how to live through it. I wish I had insisted I go to therapy, when I was in my teens, but I never knew I could insist on that from my parents. Mental health is a journey, and it's better to start it as early as possible.)

----

Another big change for me, from 15 to 30, is how many people aren't in my life anymore. People move away. People change friend groups after high school. People grow apart. People have kids... If you don't teach yourself small talk or how to connect with new people, you could end up feeling pretty alone.

People also die, way too early. People die that you once didn't get along with, and you cry because it's still heartbreaking to hear. People die that you once laughed with and loved like a sibling. People die that you once had the biggest crush on. People die that you once were just casually friends with...

It makes me realize, more and more each time, that life just happens. You can plan on things. You can schedule events. You can build the life you want. You can just go with the flow. But ultimately, we're not completely in control of our lives, no matter what we do.

It's always devastating finding out someone else has passed away too early. It always feels unreal and unfair.

March 5-6th, 2023

#notes

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tetsvhoe · 3 years

Note

I am in love with your toxic exes work, and I know you're already writing more for it - but if it's no trouble, could you please include HINATA, Matsukawa and Osamu? I love these boys and I love your writing too, so I just really want to see how you would write them in this situation <33

SEEING YOUR TOXIC EX [5]

kuroo’s part

tsukishima and suna’s part

bokuto, atsumu, and sakusa’s part

iwaizumi, oikawa, and kageyama’s part

character/s: hinata shoyo x f reader, matsukawa issei x f reader, miya osamu x f reader

genre/s: fluff

warning/s: ex coaxes reader into sex when they were together (osamu’s part)

gwen's notes 🤍: this is unfortunately the last one for this series bc i’ve run out of ideas. :(( thank you for supporting all my previous works though! sorry anon this took too long and it’s quite short and repetitive. :/

MASTERLIST | TAGLIST

hinata shoyo

you thought being in a toxic relationship was hard but being in a healthy one and unlearning toxic habits was just as difficult.

especially when your boyfriend happened to be such a great friend and teammate. he pushed everyone around him to do better and cheered them up in the process. he was a loving and caring big brother and an excellent example, save for his studying habits in high school. he was also a renowned athlete on top of that.

to you, he was the most supportive, understanding, and patient partner you could ever ask for. to hell with being a ray of sunshine when someone tried to mess with you.

you stretched your hand out to touch the rain that poured from the sky. despite hinata reminding you earlier to bring an umbrella, you still forgot. luckily, his training was almost over. you were waiting for him to pick you up at a convenience store near work when your ex showed up.

“it’s good to see you.”

“wish i could say the same,” you deadpanned, clutching your clothes around yourself.

“i’ve been trying to reach you,” he announced, staring at the rumbling sky.

“i’ve been trying to avoid you,” you retorted back, glancing at your watch anxiously. he grabbed a hold on your wrist, making you look at him at last, shock and fright all over your features.

“don’t be such a bitch when i’m trying to be nice,” he threatened through clenched teeth.

you had gone through lengths to cut him off after he refused to leave you alone. he kept harassing and terrorizing you for months after the break up. he blew up your phone with calls and messages, reached out on facebook, twitter, instagram, even to your emails. soon he even started bothering all your friends and family. you had to get a new number, block him on social media, and delete some of your accounts.

to say that you weren’t frightened of what this man was capable of was a blatant lie.

“i don’t owe you shit, i don’t have to be nice to someone like you.”

footsteps padded against the wet pavement from a distance and you whipped your head to see hinata jogging over to where you were, giggling as he tried to outrun the rain. you let out a breath of relief.

when his eyes trailed to your expression and to the person next to you, his smile wiped off completely.

“what’s going on?”

“we were just talking,” he waved it off, faking a smile. “i’m not trying to steal your girlfriend away.”

hinata stepped in front of you, an uncharacteristic scowl on his face. “that would be the least of my worries since she wants nothing to do with you,” he mumbled quietly. you could almost see his jaw clenching even as his back faced you. he slowly lowered his cold gaze from your ex to his hand still clasped around your wrist, then back at him.

your ex scoffed but shoved your hand away nonetheless. “don’t ever come near her again,” hinata yelled after his retreating figure.

he wore a familiar smile as he turned around to look at you. “sorry i was late. are you okay?” he smoothed your hair out fondly.

despite the dull thump in your chest, you eased at seeing his soft expression. you couldn’t help but smile. “you weren’t late, sho. i’m okay though, now that you’re here.”

he chuckled as he shrugged his jacket off. he draped it over you before firmly holding your hand in a ready-to-run stance.

“wait! i thought you’re supposed to bring an umbrella?”

he grinned, sheepishly rubbing the back of his head. “i forgot it in the car,” he curtly announced before dragging you through the pouring rain. you can’t help but break out into a fit of shrieks and laughter.

matsukawa issei

you and your boyfriend were usually too lazy to go out and often settled for netflix, takeouts, and cuddles for date nights.

lately though, you’ve been feeling too cooped up at home and wanted to be adventurous and try a new restaurant for a change.

you decided taking the train would be much faster. mattsun was manspreading sat on a bench, scrolling on his phone as you both waited. you stood up though since you were sitting all day.

you ignored your ex approaching you from a distance and hoped to god he didn’t notice you. he called out your name and you cursed under your breath.

mattsun’s ears perked at the mention of his girlfriend’s name, thinking a random person was trying to hit on you. thick brows raised in amusement when he realized it was your scumbag ex and the fact that he didn’t even notice he was right there.

“i’ve been wanting to talk to you.”

you crossed your arms above your chest and grumbled. “i’ve been trying to avoid you,” you countered, tapping your foot impatiently on the pavement.

“can we talk please. there’s still so much i wanted to say to you.”

“like what,” you scoffed bitterly. “it’s not like anything you’re going to say is gonna change my mind.”

“it might- no, i know it will! i know you still love me. just set your pride aside for once and admit you want to get back with me!”

the frustration you felt from that sentence alone could not be put to words. you felt secondhand embarrassment from the sheer audacity and found yourself wondering where the hell he got all the of confidence from. you heard mattsun snicker beside you, earning him a glare from you. he was surely having the time of his life, but all you felt was humiliation and annoyance. you couldn’t believe you dated someone like him and mattsun would never let you hear the end of it.

stifling a laugh, your boyfriend stretched limbs and let out a groan, finally making his presence known to your ex. “will you look at the time,” he mused, flashing his screen just enough for you and your ex to see. your cheeks burned as you caught a glimpse of his lock screen which was a picture of you together. it’s not like you haven’t seen it before. “it’s time to shut the fuck up,” he retorted, draping an arm over your shoulders.

you bite back a chuckle at his immaturity, but leaned onto his side nonetheless.

“the train will be here soon, babe,” he muttered before kissing your cheek and dragging you away. your ex tried chasing after you a few seconds after it registered to him what happened, but mattsun weaved you into the crowd until you were both far away enough.

miya osamu

three things you should know about osamu; he had a knack for not giving a shit for things that didn’t matter.

contrary to the first one, he had a temper. growing up with his twin who he can barely stand half the time, he was annoyed pretty easily.

he knew how to land a good punch. he had a lot of practice with atsumu.

“let go of me! how many times do i have to tell you i never want to see you again.” you thrashed around in an empty parking lot as your ex tried to drag you in a back alley to “talk” but you’ve made it clear you had nothing more to say and didn’t want anything to do with him. previously, when you tried to break up with him, he would convince you to meet to get some “closure” and all you ever got was him coaxing you into what he called “break up sex”. he would still refuse to leave you alone afterwards. you’ve been avoiding him just fine until now when he’s got you cornered.

“let’s just talk this out hm? it hasn’t even been that long-“

“it’s been months! please for the love of god just let me live in peace!”

he laughed humorlessly, eyes suddenly turning darker. “peace? my life has completely gone to shit since you left me, i don’t get to have peace and neither do you!”

“it’s not my fault-“

“it is, because you left me! you hurt me so bad… come on, baby please. we haven’t even talked yet after you dumped me over the phone, remember?”

“what the fuck?” osamu’s loud voice cut through the barren parking lot.

your ex let go of your hand at the sound of so you booked it and scrambled to osamu’s side, clutching his arm gently and tugging him away.

“what the hell is going on?” he asked again, somehow sounding a notch more irritated. his eyes darted between your shaken figure and your ex’s desperate and panicked state.

“nothing, forget it. he’s not worth it,” you mumbled, avoiding his gaze.

he raised an eyebrow at you before shrugging your hand off his bicep. he took slow steps towards your ex like a predator hunting his prey. you were right and wrong, yes he didn’t matter but you did and he messed with you. osamu wasn’t having that. every second he spent in the presence of your ex angered him more and more like a ticking time bomb. you shrieked as osamu threw an abrupt punch, faster than you can blink. your ex toppled onto the floor as he looked down on him with a grim glare.

“what the-“

“don’t ever try that shit again, especially when i’m not around,” he basically growled before turning on his heel and pushing you to the opposite direction.

“sorry you had to see that,” he mumbled, draping an arm over your shoulders and squeezing you to his side. a smirk tugged at his lips as your feet padded on the ground in a frantic pace. “let’s leave quickly before he calls the cops on us or something.”

“mhm, orange looks atrocious on you.”

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blu-joons · 3 years

Text

Overworking ~ Choi Yeonjun

His eyes widened in horror as soon as he walked into your office to see you slumped over your desk in frustration. Your body was in the room, but it was apparent to Yeonjun straight away that your mind was absent, lost in a spiral as you tried to find something to focus on to get things done.

You were completely oblivious to Yeonjun entering the room until you head a chair pull up beside you. With a loud groan, you sat yourself up properly so that you could meet Yeonjun’s eyes, noticing a fear in them as he studied the exhaustion closely on your face.

It took a moment for your state to sink in for Yeonjun, never had he seen you so tired in his life. He could tell that you were struggling, although your eyes looked at him, it was almost as if you were lifeless behind them, lost within yourself and the cycle that was your endless workload.

“Are you alright?” He asked in a whisper.

As your teeth came out to bite against your bottom lip, Yeonjun could tell that you were holding on. The quiver in your lip was the last straw for him, as he dragged your chair towards him, wrapping his arms tightly around your frame and bundling you firmly into his chest.

“Don’t worry,” he comforted, but as soon as he did, light sobs came from you, dampening the material of his shirt. Yeonjun’s eyes shut in anguish as he held you into him, giving you all the time that you needed to let your tears fall.

They were tears that you’d been holding onto for longer than you could remember, determined to always try and keep the smile on your face. It was easier said than done, as the pressure continued to mount, you were a ticking time bomb waiting to go off.

“Work, again?” Yeonjun asked as soon as you quietened down, assuming the cause.

Your head could only nod back at him, having offloaded on him several times before, Yeonjun knew just how hard your boss was working you. He was far from impressed, but there was little you could do, as much as Yeonjun hated hearing you say it, you needed this job more than anything else.

“They should be supporting you in that place, not helping you fall,” Yeonjun sighed as you moved away from his chest. His hand reached across your desk to pull out a tissue from the box, cupping the side of your face as he dabbed against your cheek.

“They’ve all got it hard too,” you tried to reason, but Yeonjun was having none of it. There was no way that he could believe everyone in your office went home in the same way that you did, shaking, scared, and under an extreme amount of pressure.

His eyes watched you closely as you took the tissue from Yeonjun, drying the corners of your eyes, before dabbing at his shirt, apologising for the mess you’d made.

“I don’t care about this old thing,” he chuckled as you tried to tidy it up, “I care about you. Just say the word, and I’ll go to that place and tell them what you’re doing to you, there’s got to be something that we can do to get them to stop treating you this way.”

“I’ve just got to get on with it,” you reminded Yeonjun, raising your voice a little, “having you march into that place isn’t going to do me any favours, what if it would just make things worse?”

“Then quit,” he suggested, laughing softly as your eyes rolled. “I’m being serious, it’s not a joke.”

“How many times do I have to say it?” You asked him in frustration, “I’ve not got it as easy as you, I can’t just open my bank account and watch the pennies flow in.”

The stubbornness in your voice was something that Yeonjun was used to, refusing his help as ever. You’d always been independent, always wanted to stand up on your own two feet, every time that Yeonjun offered to help out, you’d politely decline. He couldn’t understand why you were putting yourself through it all when he was offering to help, but your pride always got in your own way.

He hated seeing you so alone and so vulnerable, it wasn’t a side of you that he was used to, it was a side of you that he hated to see too. Even as your tears dried, he could still see the worry in your eyes, knowing that time had passed when you weren’t getting things done.

“If I don’t have your back, who will? I can’t leave you all alone in that place Y/N,” he frowned, taking a hold of your hand, “they shouldn’t be allowed to do this to you.”

“Maybe this is just something that I need to figure out for myself,” you reasoned.

“No way,” Yeonjun instantly argued with a shake of his head, “you’re never alone, you’ve always got me. You never go through anything all by yourself, not whilst I’m with you.”

The sincerity in his voice took you slightly by surprise as you nodded back at him, feeling your heart swell at the care Yeonjun had towards you. “I wish that all of this could just go away, why do I always have to be the pressure point in that place?”

“Maybe because you’re just so good.”

“Perhaps I should just be rubbish from now on,” you joked, “make plenty of mistakes.”

“I know that that job is far too important for you to ever do that,” Yeonjun sympathised, pleased to see a hint of a smile appear on your face, “and reluctantly, I trust that hopefully things will get easier for you over there too.”

“Somehow, I feel like I won’t get out of this mess for a while, I’m just going to have to get on with things like I usually do. I feel a bit better after crying at least, even if it’s far from the answer to all of my problems.”

“It will get better,” Yeonjun continued to try and assure you, “I’ve been there as well, when you feel like you’ll never find a way out. But I promise that you will, and I’ll be right here by your side supporting you through everything until you feel better again.”

“I don’t think I could get through this without you.”

Yeonjun’s head shook as he moved you even closer towards him, making sure that he had your full attention on him. “You have no idea how incredible you are, you’re getting through this every day, without me. Showing up and getting it done, proving to your boss how amazing you are, that’s how you’re doing so well every day.”

There were plenty of times when you thought about not showing up, deleting an email or pulling a sickie, but you didn’t. For all the stress, you knew these goals were things that were never going to go away, not until they were fulfilled by you.

“Why don’t you call it a night and give yourself a break?” Yeonjun suggested, “I’ll even let you pick out a movie that we can watch together.”

“You must be feeling generous to give me control.”

His head nodded in agreement as he recalled the last movie that you made him watch, and how much he despised it too. “It’s a one-time offer to let you pick out the movie, I’ve got to watch something that will at least make you smile.”

You reached across and jabbed into his arm, “you’ve already made me smile, just by being you, that’s all that I need.”

“Does that mean that I can pick the film in that case then?”

“No,” you chuckled, “you don’t just get to retract your offer like that.”

“It looks like I’m in for a long night then.”

---

Masterlist

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arvinsescape · 3 years

Note

Hey could you please write something with reader's ex leaking some private pictures you two took when you were together just because he's jealous of you and tom, so when tom hears about what happened he is so upset that someone could be this low, he's not even jealous, he is just so mad that he could cry

A/N: Thank you for sending this in, I hope you enjoy! 💕

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of sex, leaking of nudes (this is never okay, I do not condone this behaviour), talks of bad relationships, mentions of stalking (do not read if you are uncomfortable).

You and Tom had been together for just over a year and a half, it had been amazing, you absolutely adored each other and everyone could see it. There was only one negative in your relationship and that came with your ex.

He was an incredibly jealous human being, awful in every way. You broke things off with him after two years of putting up with his behaviour. You'd not been allowed to have male friends, the relationship you had with the men Tom lived with was strange for you at first, at every turn you expected Tom to get angry about how close you were getting. It never happened, Tom adored the relationship you had with the boys and it was quick to reassure you of that fact when you opened up to him about it.

Unfortunately, although he claimed he wasn't in love with you, he couldn't let you go. He was so jealous when he found out you'd moved on that he started stalking your social medias, leaving comments on your posts which led to you blocking him. Of course, this didn't work, he made new accounts in order to find out what you were doing, leaving nasty comments on posts you made to a point where you simply stopped posting as often.

He was tiring and for a while you worried he'd find you, approach you but he never did. You'd been on edge for a short time after making your relationship with Tom public due to the comments he'd leave on your posts. You wondered whether or not he'd ever get over it, let you go but he seemingly wasn't going to anytime soon. It was tiresome, truly but you'd learned to live with it, you continued to block the accounts he made, Tom personally emailing the social media companies in hopes they could put a stop to him but to no avail.

You travelled with Tom a lot, most of the time unless you had family commitments that kept you homebound. This was due to your job and the way it worked, you never needed to be in an office and you could work from anywhere in the world. Book editing meant you had freedom. It made you feel safe, knowing Tom was never far away and when he was filming you could spend time with one of the boys and it brought a huge comfort to you.

You were back in London, in Tom's shared house after a long stretch in the states, you were happy to be back home, have your home comforts. You had been in and out of sleep for the past hour, your phone buzzing like crazy which had resulted in you turning it off, not ready to face whatever it was so early in the morning. That was all well and good until Tom's phone started half an hour later.

"Tom." You lightly shook him in his sleep and he mumbled incoherently in response. "Tom?" You tried harder.

"Y/N, go back to sleep." He grumbled as he pulled you into his chest as his phone started again. You pushed against his chest and his eyes snapped open.

"Tom your phone." You stated and Tom groaned before rolling over and mindlessly fishing for the device, turning it off as well. "It might be important." You said and he rolled back over to pull you into him.

"I'll deal with it later, it's my week off, it can wait." He mumbled into your neck as he sighed out. It didn't take him long to find sleep again as he held you against his chest, his warmth wrapping around you and making you drift into your own sleep.

You're not sure how long you'd been back asleep before you heard banging on your bedroom door. Tom groaning as he squeezed your body and ignored the knocks, hoping whichever boy it was would go away.

"Tom." Harrison's voice pulled you both from your sleepy state. He sounded worried, not his usual calm and chilled out self as he banged on the door again. "You need to get up." He said frantically.

"Fuck off Harrison, I'm tired." Tom shouted back as you sat up and ran a hand over your face. Tom protesting as you sat against the headboard trying to come to. "Darling, come back." He begged, almost childishly, you were about to respond when Harrison piped up again.

"Tom, mate seriously. Get up, it's important." He tried and Tom groaned again before sitting up next to you. "Right, I'm coming in." Haz shouted before opening your bedroom door, phone in hand and face paler than usual.

"Haz what is so important that we need to get up at," Tom started as he checked his watch. "7:30 in the morning."

"You need to check your phones." He said as he threw his phone in your direction. With furrowed brows you picked it up. "I'm so sorry Y/N/N." He said and Tom was quick to grab his phone, turning it on.

"What do you mean? Haz it's early and I've not woken up yet, what's going on?" Tom asked as you scrolled Haz's phone, quiet as a mouse, face dropping. You flicked though the series of pictures that had made their way to twitter, complete and utter disbelief hitting you.

"Her ex." Harrison said as Tom's phone finished booting up, numerous missed calls from his publicist and twitter notifying him that he was trending. "Y/N/N, are you okay?" Harrison asked as he took in your figure.

"How long have these been up?" You asked, eyes not leaving his phone.

"I don't know they were posted overnight." Harrison sighed as he ran a hand through his hair. Numerous pictures of yourself from a couple of years ago staring back at you. Pictures with your ex in very compromising positions mocking you as you looked at them.

You nodded slowly as you swallowed down your emotions, you lifted a shaky hand to run through your hair. The internet had practically seen you for what you were, seen things that were meant for a significant other. Pictures of yourself you'd sent to your ex before things got bad between the two of you.

"Fucking piece of shit." Tom whispered as he himself saw what Harrison had been talking about. You felt like crying, the lump in your throat felt heavy as you tried to swallow it down, tears blurring your vision as you looked at the pictures.

"Sweetheart," Tom started as he took Harrison's phone from your hand and handed it back to his friend. Harrison took it and quickly made his way from your room, he knew you were seconds away from breaking down and you needed your privacy.

"I thought he'd deleted them." You whispered to more yourself than anyone else. "I sent those at the beginning of our relationship, fucking idiot." You said to yourself and Tom pulled you into him as your tears fell, silently crying.

"You're not an idiot. This is on him, not you. I'm so sorry." Tom said as he held you. "He had no right to do that."

"Is he ever going to leave me alone?" You cried and Tom's heart shattered there and then in his chest. This man had been a tormenter for years, too long and he had been cause for your tears numerous times over your relationship.

"He is. I swear to god this is the last time." Tom promised as he held you tight against him. His phone rang yet again and he huffed out in annoyance as he lifted an arm, reaching for his phone. "Hey, I'll call you back." Tom said into the phone, you didn't hear the response. "No, this is more important, I'll talk to you later." Tom snapped before hanging up the phone and throwing it to one side.

You became a sobbing mess, the world having seen parts of yourself you never wanted them to. You wanted to disappear off the face of earth, how were you supposed to go out in public after this? How were you supposed to face the people you knew? Your mind was racing, thoughts embedding themselves as you thought more about what would happen. You only cried harder as you thought about it.

Tom comforted you through your breakdown, reassuring you that it was going to be okay. He was in complete shock, how could someone do this? He wanted to cry as he held you, his heart was broken for the woman in his arms. He listened as you eventually calmed down, breathing steadying as you pulled away from his chest and wiped your face.

"I'm gonna do something about this, I promise." Tom comforted and he watched as a defeated look spread across your face.

"What does it matter? The world has seen them now." You smiled sadly, realising there was nothing you could do. He'd taken things to a knew level, one you would never hear the end of. "It's my own fault, I never should have sent them." You bit your lip as you tried to hold back more tears.

"No baby, don't do that. Don't blame yourself, it's not your fault." He said as he sat across from you, taking your hands into his own. You couldn't look him in the eye, what if he hated you for this? This was something people could use against him now, what if he was disgusted you ever sent them to him.

"Stop it." Tom said softly, he could see you reeling, see your thoughts consuming you. He always knew, he said you had this look on your face and in your eyes, he knew you like the back of his hand. "Don't, I know what you're thinking and this isn't your fault."

"Look at me," Tom encouraged as he took your chin in his hand and forced your gaze into his own. "I promise this is going to be okay." He comforted and the look in his eyes was so comforting, so safe. No judgement, nothing hiding behind them, he was heart broken for you, you could see that in the tears that were slightly welling in his eyes.

It wasn't that you were against sending pictures to your partner, you and Tom had sent your fair share to each other. But you had learned a valuable lesson, you'd deleted every picture between you and your ex because that was the right thing to do, right? But he hadn't, he'd kept them and it made you uncomfortable as to why? Why would he want to keep those pictures? Why would he release them for the world to see?

"One minute." Tom said as he got off the bed and made his way into the en suite. You heard running water and you knew he was running you a bath, the evidence in the smell of flowers filling the room as he added your favourite bubble bath. He reappeared after a while.

"Come on. I've got some calls to make so you have a bath." He said as he held his hand out for you. Your heart warmed but you sighed as you took his hand and stood up.

"This isn't your mess to clean up Tom, it's mine." You mumbled and Tom shook his head as he tugged you slightly into the bathroom.

"If it affects you, it affects me. I'm gonna do everything I can to protect you. I love you okay? This isn't your fault and I'm gonna put an end to his shit, I've had enough. I'm gonna do something about him." Tom said and you smiled sadly.

"Thank you." You said and Tom smiled as he gestured for you to get into the bath.

"I'll be back in a while. I'm gonna talk to my legal team, see what I can do. You just try and relax and I want you to promise me that you'll stay off social media today." He said and you nodded as he smiled in comfort at you, kissing your forehead as he left the bathroom and made his way downstairs, grabbing his phone and putting some sweats on as he did.

"How is she?" Harrison asked, almost as soon as Tom entered the living room. Tom sighed as he turned to his best friend.

"She's upset. Blames herself for ever sending them." He said and Haz furrowed his brows.

"This is that twats fault. I swear if I ever see him again I'm gonna punch the smug look he always has right off his fucking face." Haz said.

"You'll have to get in line. I could kill him for what he's done." Tom said, he was so upset that you'd been put through this. "I want to fucking cry for her Haz, she's devastated." Tom continued as Tuwaine made his way into the room.

"That man is a fucking dick." He ranted straight away, Harry agreeing as he made his way in. "I can't believe the shit he's pulled." He continued.

"He's was so open about it, posting them onto his personal twitter account." Harry said in disbelief.

"I'm hoping that was his biggest mistake, what I can get him for." Tom said as he scrolled his contacts, pulling up the head of his legal team.

"What's the reaction online?" Haz asked carefully and Tuwaine shook his head.

"Half and half, some people are defending her, some are mocking her, others judging. It's a mess, people wanna know how Tom feels about it, some Y/N. I don't know, I tried not to look too much." Tuwaine sighed and Haz gave a tight nod as he grabbed his phone and vigorously started to type.

Tom left the room as he held the phone to his ear, on the phone with his legal team. Disappearing to talk in private. Harrison finally finished his typing as Tuwiane and Harry's phone pinged, Harrison's tweets coming to their attention.

There are no words for what has happened to my two best friends. What this man has done is disgusting and in no way Y/N's fault, please stop circulating the pictures. They were posted without her consent and she is hurting enough without people mocking her. Leave her alone, leave Tom alone. You will hear from them when they are ready.

Harry and Tuwaine retweeting the tweets before adding their own in support of you. You were close to them all, they were like your brother's.

"Do you think she'll be okay?" Harry asked.

"I don't know. This is just awful, I can't believe this has happened." Tuwaine said and watched as you appeared in the living room, you had your pyjama pants on, one of Tom's hoodies consuming your upper half as you looked sheepishly around the room.

"Y/N, I'm so sorry this has happened." Tuwaine said as he pulled you into his chest, squeezing you in comfort. "It's okay, we're gonna get you through this." He promised and your heart warmed as you hugged him back.

There was a part of you that wondered how much the boys had seen, it made you feel strange around them. What if they'd seen the pictures of your intimate parts?

"I didn't look." Tuwaine said, almost as if he could read your thoughts. "I saw enough to know when to stop scrolling, enough to know what had happened." He reassured as the boys voiced the same.

"Okay, he's gonna do some digging, see how far he can take it. See what he can get him done for." Tom said as he reappeared, you instantly leaving Tuwaine's arms for your boyfriends.

"Is it looking promising? That we can press charges of some sort against him?" Harry asked.

"Yeah, he's just said he'll see if he can take more action. He's already contacted twitter and they're trying to put a stop to the sharing of the pictures. The rest of the sites the same." Tom said as he squeezed you tightly, chin resting on top of your head.

Tom's phone rang again and he pulled it from his pocket, sighing as he watched his publicists name flash across his screen. This was the phone call he was dreading because his PR team didn't give a fuck how you looked, it was all about Tom. This wasn't about him.

"Hello?" Tom said as he answered, he couldn't ignore them forever.

"Tom! Finally!" He heard the shrill screech of her voice and he grimaced as he did. He moved you both to sit on the couch, sitting you on his lap as he cuddled you. "Have you seen the internet?"

"Yeah." Tom said, almost annoyed.

"Y/N needs to put out a statement." She said and Tom huffed, anger building in him.

"Y/N doesn't need to do anything. She will address this if and when she is ready." Tom snapped.

"Tom this will make it look bad for you if neither of you address it. Some people are speculating she's cheated." She replied and your stomach dropped as you overheard her. Tom shifted you onto the couch as he got up, placing a kiss to your lips as he disappeared again. You didn't need to hear any of this.

"I don't give a shit to be honest. She hasn't cheated, these photos where posted without her consent. This isn't about me, this is about her." Tom snapped.

"But Tom, you are Spiderman, your girlfriends nudes have been leaked, pictures of her with another man have leaked." She snapped back and Tom's anger hit breaking point.

"I don't care. I just told you that. I'm not going to force her to do a thing she doesn't want. I don't care that I am Spiderman, what happened to her is wrong and I'm gonna stand by her."

"About that." She said Tom's heart dropped.

"What?"

"We think it might be best if you distanced yourself from her. Make it look like a slight break." His publicist said and Tom's anger hit the roof at the suggestion. His publicist had never been fond of your relationship, they wanted him to date other celebrities, he'd fought them for ages on this front.

"Not happening. This is devastating for her, you really think I'm gonna abandon her? You know what? If anyone thinks negatively about me or her, that's on them because what has happened to her is wrong. How do you think that will look? I can just see the headlines. Tom Holland leaves girlfriend after nudes where leaked without her consent. What sort of a message does that send to people? Did you think about that? Or is this just you taking another opportunity to try and get me seen with someone you approve of?" Tom screamed, the house heard.

"I, I suppose I hadn't thought about that." She stumbled out quietly. Tom pinched the bridge of his nose as he tried to calm himself.

"I don't want to hear anything more about this. I'm going to deal with this my way. This isn't about me, this about her and sticking by her, which I am going to do. Whatever you might say. The fact that you hadn't thought about what I've just said makes clear to me that I can't trust you with this one and maybe I should be looking for someone I can." Tom snapped.

"I'm sorry, I'll leave you be. We'll try and do what we can here." She said and Tom didn't even feel guilty for blowing out on his publicist, the team could be the biggest wankers he'd ever met anyway.

"Tom, you'll get in trouble." You said as he made his way back into the room. He sat down next to you, pulling you into his side as he kissed your head.

"I don't care. This isn't about me, they need to realise that." Tom spoke into your hair. He pulled his phone from his pocket as he typed away, minutes later and everyone's phone had pinged, Tom had posted to Instagram. It was a picture of the two of you, one taken over winter in by the fire.

I'm sure many of you have seen what has happened. I'm devastated someone would do this, these pictures were posted without her consent. This man kept these pictures for over two years and then posted them. I ask that you stop judging and just think for a second how this would make you feel, if it was you in this position. She trusted him enough to send those images and he broke that trust, it's so wrong.

I ask that you stop posting the pictures, they are not yours or mine to post. There is no cheating involved, this man has caused enough distress for Y/N and I will not let it continue. I want you to support her and send love, it's what she deserves. She's my best friend and my lover, I stand by her 100% on this, I will not tolerate any abuse sent her way.

Please understand that she is not ready to address this and if she never is that's okay. She doesn't have to, this isn't her fault and she has nothing to apologise for. I love her and I hope to see your continued support of her, much love Tom x

He switched his phone off as he looked at you, he wanted nothing more than to make this go away for you, he wanted to hide you from the world, keep you safe. He had to swallow his tears again, heart aching from what this man has done to you, he couldn't stop himself pulling you tighter against him as he tried to keep his tears at bay..

"It's gonna be okay, I promise. I love you." He said into your hair as you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled yourself to straddle him. You pulled each other impossibly closer and the boys smiled at the interaction, no matter what was going on the world, the two had each other. They had each other's backs and it was heart warming to see, to know they had all the support they would ever need in each other.

#tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland angst #tom holland x female reader #tom holland one shot

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storiesforallfandoms · 3 years

Text

comparisons ~ machine gun kelly

word count: 2195

request?: yes!

“Can I get a Colson Baker one where you’re dating after him and Megan where you get a bunch of hate and they both defend you against the hate please”

description: when her boyfriend’s ex is one of the most beautiful actresses of this generation, she finds herself being constantly compared to her and receiving hateful messages

pairing: machine gun kelly x female!reader

warnings: swearing, hate messages, insecurities

masterlist (one, two)

There was some sort of assumption that when you start dating someone, you immediately hate their ex. That could not be further from the truth for me and Colson. In fact, Colson’s ex-girlfriend introduced us shortly after their break up, and had constantly pushed for the two of us to get together.

Megan was basically the backbone in our friendship. She pushed me to pursue my dreams in acting (as well as helped you with that since she was so much more famous than you were when you started), then she pushed me to start auditioning for bigger roles. The moment she introduced me to Colson, I knew exactly what was coming next.

“That’s weird, Meg,” I had told her. “Isn’t there, like, a girl code about dating your best friend’s ex?”

“I’m literally shoving you onto him,” she had responded. “I think you’re fine with the girl code.”

A few months after meeting, I finally caved and asked Colson out on a date. Six months later, I was still thanking Megan for giving me that push.

Shortly after making our relationship public, however, the happiness slowly came to a stop. For me, anyways. Colson, bless his heart, was blissfully ignorant to the comments his fanbase started to send me.

“yikes, he really downgraded huh?”

“how do you go from megan fox to...that?”

“guess mgk couldn’t keep up his streak of hot girlfriends”

Hate comes with fame, I knew that. I had my fair share of hate comments ever since the start. It was easy to ignore them when they were just a handful of hate comments here and there, but this was different. This was a bombardment of hate that was so heavy I could barley go online.

Colson was oblivious for a while, until he found out I had deleted all my social media accounts.

“Did you delete your Instagram babe?” he asked the minute he got home the day I had done it.

“Yeah,” I responded, nonchalantly. “I deleted all my social media.”

“Why?”

I shrugged. “I just thought it’d be better for me mentally. They say being so attached to social media is bad for you or whatever.”

“But you weren’t even addicted to social media. You just liked sharing your memories - our memories.”

I shrugged again and turned back to my cooking. I wasn’t about to tell him his fans drove me off the internet. He loved his fans, I couldn’t fuck that up for him, even if what they were saying hurt me so much.

My back was to him as I cooked, so he couldn’t see my reaction when he asked, “Is it because people were comparing you to Megan?”

I froze completely. I could feel his eyes staring into the back of my head, but I just couldn’t convince myself to turn around to face him. I knew that if I did, I’d crack. I had gone too long pretending everything was okay, keeping this secret from Colson, to finally let it slip now. I just had to throw him off of his thought process.

“Where did you get that idea?” I asked, trying to keep my voice light.

He was next to me suddenly, holding his phone up so I could see it. On the screen was a picture of me at a red carpet just below a headline that read “(Y/F/N) deletes social media accounts amid hateful comments from boyfriend Machine Gun Kelly’s fans”.

I sighed in frustration. Of course the tabloid vultures had already written articles about it. I had only done it a few hours earlier, but they always had to be the first ones to write another story about me.

“I didn’t even know I was getting hate,” I said, trying to keep up the lie even though it was pretty obvious I had been found out. “I just decided to delete my accounts, it must be a coincidence.”

“Really? Because this article says you were receiving so much hate that you couldn’t even go into the comments on your pictures or replies on your tweets without seeing a mass amount of hate from my fans.”

I turned off the stove and turned around suddenly, abandoning my cooking completely as I quickly walked out of the kitchen and towards mine and Colson’s room. I felt a lump forming in my throat, and the last thing I wanted was for Colson to see me cry.

I wasn’t shocked to hear his footsteps coming after me. I forgot how much longer his legs were than mine, so it didn’t take long for him to catch up with me and stop me before I could get too far away. He took hold of my arm and turned me around to look at him. The moment my eyes landed on his face, it felt like someone had finally broke the dam holding back my tears.

Colson pulled me in for a hug and held me tightly as I sobbed into his chest. Every ounce of overwhelming feelings I had been bottling up for months was finally starting to come out, and I realized it was long overdue when I eventually began to grow tired from my crying.

I felt Colson pick me up and bring me to his bed. My eyes were starting to grow heavy despite how much I was fighting against them to stay awake. The minute my head hit the pillow, I was out like a light.

I wasn’t sure how long I was asleep, but it was obvious I had needed that rest, because when I woke up again I felt more well rested than I had in a long time.

I opened my eyes to find myself facing the window, which helped me to pinpoint that it was now nighttime as the sky was pitch black. I rolled over, expecting to find Colson asleep next to me only to find that I was alone in his bed. I was confused at first, forgetting the events that happened mere hours earlier.

I could hear a distant voice talking and was able to identify it as Colson’s. I got up from his bed and made my way towards the stairs, hearing it get louder as I stood at the top.

“I wish she would’ve told me,” he was saying. “I don’t know why she would’ve kept this a secret from me.”

“She didn’t want you upset with your fans,” came another voice. This one was distorted like it was coming from a phone. When she spoke again, I realized it was Megan’s voice. “And she’s stubborn. She was probably determined to deal with this by herself.”

“I just hate that she felt that way,” Colson sighed. “I don’t want her believing anything any of those people said to her, but I saw screenshots and fuck...they really did just bombard her with hate.”

“I know, but none of us could’ve predicted this. Your fans were so cool with us dating, I thought they’d love (Y/N) since we’re so similar.”

I sat down on the top of the stairs and peeked down enough that I could see Colson without him seeing me. He was laid out on the couch in just his sweat pants. In his hand he was holding his phone up, the other was slung over the back of his couch. I could see the guilt on his face, which broke my heart to see. I didn’t want Colson feeling guilty for something that was out of his control.

“You think what I posted will do anything?” he asked Megan.

“I don’t know. It’s hard to tell. When people want to hate, they just want to hate.”

Hearing that Colson had posted something made me curious. I felt around my pants for my phone, but realized I had probably left it in the room or downstairs somewhere. I was in too deep now to give myself away, but I really wanted to know what he had posted about the situation.

“Thanks for talking to me about this, Megan,” he said.

“Of course, Colson. Anytime.”

They said their goodbyes and hung up. Colson tossed his phone onto the coffee table and put his arm under his head. “Are you gonna come down babe?”

I wanted to ask how he knew I was there, but instead I stood from my spot and made my way down the stairs. When I entered the living room, Colson just looked up at me for a moment, almost expectantly. I smiled down at him and laid on top of him with my head on his chest. The arm that was over the back of the couch wrapped around me and he gently kissed the top of my head.

“How much did you hear?” he asked.

“Just the last bit,” I admitted. “Something about a post you made.”

Colson hummed, his chest vibrating underneath my ear as he did. “I wanted to address the issue, and I knew you wouldn’t let me do it if you were awake.”

“I still don’t like that you did it now,” I said, half joking. “Can I see the post?”

He moved his head to look down at me. “How do I know you’re not going to delete the post?”

“You don’t,” I responded. “You’ll just have to trust me.”

He smiled and reached over to grab his phone from the coffee table. He opened it and pulled up a post he had made on Instagram: it was your usual white background with text post you saw celebrities make from time to time.

It read:

“I love my fans so much. You guys are my EST family, and I’m so proud of this family that we have built over the last few years. However, it came to my attention today that some of you have been less than nice to my girlfriend to a point where she felt the need to delete her social media accounts. I will admit, I was oblivious to this at first as I am not one to go onto other people’s social media to read comments and replies, and (Y/N) kept this to herself instead of telling me about it. But now that I do know, I have to say I am beyond pissed. (Y/N) is the most beautiful girl I have ever met, inside and out. She is not Megan, and honestly - with all respect to Megan - I’m glad that she’s not. I love Megan as a friend, but truly that’s all she is to me. (Y/N) is my soulmate, the love of my life. These comparisons and jabs at her because she isn’t my ex are absolutely disgusting, especially coming from people who claim they love me as much as you guys do. Please learn how to treat the people in my life with love and respect, or else take my face out of your profile pictures and my name out of your usernames/bios as you are not a true fan of mine. From the bottom of my heart, fuck you to anyone that made my girlfriend feel like shit.”

I scrolled down to see the comments and saw that the top one was from Megan, and was already liked by Colson.

“(Y/N) is not my competition, nor is she my enemy. She is my friend and she has been since before Colson and I were ever together. The fact that people feel the need to pit two women against one another just because they both dated the same person is absolutely appalling to me. I’d like to emphasis Colson’s statement - fuck you to whoever hurt my friend.”

I handed Colson his phone back, not wanting to read any more. I could feel a lump in my throat again, but this one was from happiness. I felt so lucky to have two amazing people in my corner during a time that was otherwise very trying for me.

“I’m sorry I never told you,” I said as I rested against his chest again.

“You shouldn’t be sorry, (Y/N). I’m sorry this happened to you.”

“You don’t have any reason to be sorry either. You can’t control your fans.”

“Then neither of us will be sorry.”

I chuckled at this. For a moment we were both silent, the only sound being Colson’s heart beating under my ear. It was a soothing sound, and combined with his fingers tracing over my back, I was almost lulled back to sleep.

“I love you,” he mumbled against my hair.

I lifted my head to look at him. “What?”

“I said I love you.”

I was speechless. It was the first time he had seriously said those words and he had managed to shock me into silence with them.

He looked at me, his face slowly becoming concerned with my silence.

“I love you, too,” I finally managed.

A smile broke out across Colson’s face as he wrapped his arms around me and held me tightly to him. For the rest of the night, he would whisper those three words to me randomly, and I would whisper back my response every time.

#machine gun kelly #machine gun kelly imagine #machine gun kelly x reader #colson baker #colson baker imagine #colson baker x reader #mgk #est #imagine #one shot #request #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom

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