#and no? not always? oftentimes I give up and don’t try hard enough to fix it and let points go that I could have earned | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

saturnheart · 1 year ago

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She took this moment as a chance to take in her younger brother’s ragged appearance, at first glance he looked like he normally did; exhausted. But taking the time to really study him, she knew Carmy was doing worse than he’d ever admit.

💔older sister thingsss

The discoloration under his eyes was the worst Nat had seen it, the deep blue-purple bruising a sign that he was getting even less sleep than he usually did.

poor guys going THROUGH it

She would find him just standing in the restaurant, sometimes eyes staring into nothing as he worried the pendant between his fingers, oftentimes raising it to his lips before letting it go completely and wandering to do whatever task needed to be done.

this!! it kills me like bro really has this pendant and it’s like what keeps him going?? like i find it kinda cute tho (like give me a man who wears my initial 🙄😐🥲)

“That I’m pregnant.” Her final words were spoken just loud enough to alert the crew to her news.

surpiseeeee shawtyyyyy

Nat watched as the two men locked eyes, not too keen on playing referee for these two again. She looked in Carmy’s direction as Richie began making his way over, trying to gauge what was going through her little brother's mind.

these children i swear

“Carmen,” Richie nodded in acknowledgment to Carmy. Richie would be lying if he said he wasn’t purposefully using Carmy’s government name to rile him up, he knew how much Carmy hated it when you did it, and since you weren’t here someone had to uphold the tradition.

i can picture them already LMAO

“I don’t like your tone, Carmen,”

😭

“all I’m sayin’ is Mikey didn’t trademark it whoever did might…I dunno hypothetically deserve an apology in return for said documents.”

richie #1 baby defender !!

“Cat’s out of the bag! Our pregnancy is no longer top secret!”

AWWW PETEEEE

“Nat’s my partner you know? And I’m so grateful for her providing me the opportunity to be a father. Allowing me to build with her, for us to come together and bring a child into this world, it’s a beautiful thing I love her ya know.”

stop he loves her so muchhhh!!!

“Nat she uh…she confided in me about how she always wanted to be the one to throw you a shower if you ever decided to have children. And if-when we had our own she’d want you to be in charge of hers…if you wanted to not like she would force you.”

they’re sisters no matter what 🥹🤍 i’m really glad baby has someone like nat (and pete) but i also feel like sugar needed someone like baby since she grew up with just mikey and carmy + richie was probably one of those friends that was always at their house.

“But Pete was so positive and always looking at life and your situation with a ‘glass half full’ mentality, that his constant belief in you helped to make the hard days easier.”

he’s so needed in that family like he’s adds in a little fun and positivity

“Pete, do you think you could give me Carmen’s number?” You tried not to roll your eyes as you saw Pete’s own light up, you were almost positive he would be telling Nat about this topic of conversation.

🤭🤭

Pete laughed, “He never answers my calls anyway.”

😂😭

I just, whatever is going on between you and Carmen, it’s affecting Nat. And she won’t tell you because you deserve to feel how you feel, but with the baby and the restaurant…she doesn’t need to play "Fix it Felix” with you and Carmen right now.”

WELL SAID PETE 😭 WIFEY NEEDS A BREAK!!!!

“You still fuckin with that lil dumbass boy?” The question caused you to choke on the last bit of cocoa in your cup.

😭😭 he’s so real

“Listen I know we ain’t sposed to have like personal relationships and shit, but lemme know what homeboy looks like I’ll get my goons on em’ for you.” Your head fell back in laughter as Cortez raised his fist to under both of his eyes.

i like this guy LMAO

Carmen stopped in his tracks, eyes finding your figure across the street. You were in front of the church that held the Al-Anon meetings he told you about.

omg

He felt the air leave his lungs as your name flashed across his screen, he realized just how indecent setting that Polaroid picture of you with his chain on might have been now that he was in public, but it’s not like he ever thought you’d call him.

each mention of the polaroids i die a little like.. 🥲

He scrolled through the messages eyes reading over your message with details about a baby shower, your address included.

i can’t wait for the baby shower !!! i’m hoping and praying it’s a sweet time (no drama pls) but whatever you have planned will be GOOD 😭😂

But here he was with a message from you, and a missed call and he wasn’t sure how to take any of it.

sighs

‘Hey Carmen, uh it’s me��Baby. Not sure why I introduced myself. I'm sure you know it’s me.” Carmy let out a watery chuckle at the sound of your voice, even if he hadn't saved your number the delicate timber of your voice would’ve been enough for him.

catch him replaying this voicemail every morning now after receiving it

“I know you have issues with girls actually having your number…Sorry, that was actually kind of rude.”

baby no.. that was actually well deserved for him

“but I think we both deserve a chance to explain our side of things. I um…I also have some things I think you should know. Just, if this is something you’re interested in, you have my number.”

it’s coming soon…. i cannot wait like even if it leaves me in tears

You lived about 30 minutes from where he was, he was confident he could get there in 20 and spare the 10 minutes at a store near you.

i know he’s a chef but i love that he like immediately chooses that he needs to make dinner for her like i know for sure his love language is acts of service like bros here calculating time on how long it will take to get to her place then the grocery market like breatheeee dude

He was nervous, maybe showing up at your house to cook you dinner wasn’t his most thought-out plan but he needed you desperately, needed to see you, be in your presence, and know that there was still a chance of something more between the two of you.

bro 😭😭

the pendant delicately resting against his chest felt warm. Carmen was adamant that he would admit his love for you tonight, unsure if he could go another day living with the fact that you were in love with him, but you still didn’t know just how much he had always loved you. You were so blissfully unaware that since he could remember, you had been the one and only option in his mind.

BROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO 😭🤍

chapter seven | they know i believed in us last week

masterlist | ↢ previous chapter | next chapter ↣

pairing: carmen berzatto x fem!reader | platonic!pete x fem!reader | male!oc x fem!reader |

summary: carmy struggles to deal with your absence in his life, while you finally learn to live without him.

wc: 7.3k

song rec: i'll still have me - cyn, aquilo

semi-edited/proof-read

“Carm hey, are you listening?” Natalie’s eyes flitted across Carmy’s face, his blank eyes staring directly past her. She took this moment as a chance to take in her younger brother’s ragged appearance, at first glance he looked like he normally did; exhausted. But taking the time to really study him, she knew Carmy was doing worse than he’d ever admit.

His usual textured and fluffy hair was limp against his head, the greasy quality of it proving he needed a wash. The discoloration under his eyes was the worst Nat had seen it, the deep blue-purple bruising a sign that he was getting even less sleep than he usually did. The skin of his lips was dehydrated and bitten to pieces, a tick he had as a child that gradually calmed down as he grew older. And the visible stubble on his chin was enough to know that the absence of your presence in his life was hitting him harder than anyone expected.

Her eyes caught on the chain that was haphazardly peeking out of his shirt, squinting at the newly added pendant hanging from it. Natalie didn’t have to be a genius to know whose initial hung around Carmen’s neck, the chain which was usually safely tucked into his shirt was now blatantly on show for everyone to see. Natalie had noticed it more recently since your and Carmy’s argument, though this was her first time seeing it this close. She would find him just standing in the restaurant, sometimes eyes staring into nothing as he worried the pendant between his fingers, oftentimes raising it to his lips before letting it go completely and wandering to do whatever task needed to be done.

Natalie’s concern was palpable but the discomfort in her abdomen was worse. “Have you tried talking to her?” The shaky breath she let out filtered between the two of them.

Carmen’s eyes finally snapped to hers taking in the uncomfortable expression on her face, “Sug?” He waited for Nat to focus on him. “You good?” The question hung in the air as Natalie tried to even out her breathing.

Using his sister's obvious discomfort to deflect from the conversation she was insistent on having wasn’t the nicest thing to do, but he’d rather put his sister’s well-being before being forced to think about how long it had been since he last spoke to you; he last saw you.

Carmy watched as Sug raised a closed hand to her mouth suppressing the urge to gag. “Yeah good, I’m good.” The forced smile on her lips did nothing to fool Carmy, but he wouldn’t force the issue.

“Can you uh, explain to me again how we’re doing, I spaced.” His fingers raised to run through his hair a small grimace painting his face at the grime he could feel left behind on his fingertips.

“Seven weeks out, Carm, and still so much to be done,” An exhausted sigh breathed through Natalie’s lips. The stress opening this restaurant caused felt extremely unnecessary considering her current status.

“No yeah I heard that,” Carmy nodded his head rapidly, Sug’s words slowly coming back to him. He squinted his eyes, hand scratching the grown-out stubble on his chin. “You uh said something about the DBA getting rejected?”

“About that.” Natalie’s voice trailed off one hand pressing into her abdomen to ease the ache, “The name’s taken.”

Nat watched as Carmy processed the words, her discomfort felt like it was increasing as the seconds passed by.

“Who the fuck could’ve taken the name?” The idea perplexed Carmy. There was no chance another business could have the same name, well there was, it was just slim as hell.

Nat shrugged just as confused as Carmy “It’s been trademarked for years, whoever filed has all legal rights to the name.”

“Fuck me!” The pitch of Carmy’s voice rose along with his irritation.

Natalie’s own mumbled expletive was drowned out by Carmy’s outburst, the nauseating morning sickness she was experiencing came in an extra hard bout today.

“Yo, Sug…Sug. You sure you’re okay?” Carmy’s concern now outweighed his confusion, Nat’s weird behavior this whole morning was beginning to worry him.

“I can do this Carmy right, tell me I can do this.” Natalie’s breathing began to increase as a slight panic flooded through her. Carmy watched her with wide eyes, no idea what she could even be talking about.

“Tell me I can do it, Carm!” The wave of nausea subsided with her yell, Carmy’s hands raised in the air to divert blame.

“Fuck okay! You can do it Sug.”

“I am…completely terrified. And I’m only telling you because..I don’t know. Just-just in case.” Natalie nodded to herself as a way to provide her nerves with courage.

Carmy just stared at Natalie still not following where she was leading this conversation to.

“I really want this to be loving and good and happy,” A smile rose to Nat’s face “I just..I don’t want anyone to know…well besides Baby and now you.”

Carmy’s eyes focused on Sug’s abdomen, the pieces of the puzzle slowly fitting together in his head. The name she spoke felt like it was echoing through his ears.

“Sure” He wasn’t sure how to react to the news, he had always assumed Natalie would be the first of the siblings to start a family. And as the years passed by he knew it was a desire he himself had.

“I really don’t want Richie to know. Because somehow, it feels more in my control when and who knows…” The sound of the wall falling caused Nat to raise her voice as she finished her sentence. “That I’m pregnant.” Her final words were spoken just loud enough to alert the crew to her news.

“I fuckin’ knew it.” The sound of Richie’s shout grated on Nat’s nerves, but the quiet congratulations helped to ease her ire a bit.

Carmy was happy for Sugar, but it felt like it was setback after setback for the restaurant and all the personal issues he was dealing with weren't helping his stress. He felt his shoulders sag a bit mind racing as to how the name could already be trademarked, or who would’ve trademarked it.

His eyes found Richie’s as the man cajoled about how he knew Natalie was pregnant this whole time. Had Richie told someone the name and they took it for themselves? Did Mikey somehow trademark it while on a bender? The thought made Carmy’s head hurt what the fuck even was the point of opening this restaurant if they couldn’t use the name. The name was the epitome of the restaurant.

If you were here Carmy knew you would've given him an analogy for how he was feeling, you would’ve told him he was like Atlas holding up the sky or whatever he did. He shook his head trying to rid himself of thoughts of you, it wasn’t helping him in the least.

As much as he’d rather not converse with Richie, he needed to get to the bottom of this trademark business.

“Yo, Cousin!” The words felt wrong escaping Carmy’s lips the two men avoided each other in the same way you avoided Carmen.

The agitation on Richie’s face was instant, Carmy knew he fucked up with you, but the cold shoulder he was getting from Richie felt unnecessary.

Carmy felt his eye twitch Richie’s immaturity since the argument with you felt never-ending. “Did Mikey ever trademark the name?”

Richie frowned looking between him and Nat the assumption that he had any goddamn clue laughable “What the fuck did Mikey look like trademarking shit? Wasn’t I just slangin’ crack to keep the lights on?”

Carmy’s eyes shut as Nat let out a quiet gasp, watching as Richie raised his hands in defense. Maybe running a back alley drug ring wasn’t the best for business, but without it, they may not have been in this moment renovating the restaurant.

“Well someone fucking trademarked it, Richie.” The attitude Carmy was catching was wholly unwelcome.

“I don’t like your tone, Carmen,” Richie matched Carmy’s energy giving him what he was getting. “All I’m sayin’ is Mikey didn’t trademark it whoever did might…I dunno hypothetically deserve an apology in return for said documents.”

Carmy was at his wits end with the older man “Oh so you’re the fucking Riddler now.”

“Baby trademarked the name?” Nat’s voice traveled between the trio at the same time as Carmen’s snarky remark. Carmy’s head shot to her, confused as to how she concluded you had anything to do with the conversation at hand.

“Bingo!” Richie’s hands came together in a loud clap Sydney rolled her eyes at the obnoxious man before looking over the various work orders. “She did that shit years ago and gave it to Mikey as a present, he…left it for her when he passed.”

A quiet fell over their small group, each of them taking in the gesture. Richie had only become privy to the present when he went through the office to try and make sense of what the hell Mikey was doing to keep the business up and running. He had knocked a framed picture of your group off the desk cleaning up the mess only to find the folded trademark document in the back of the broken picture frame.

Your name was haphazardly scribbled into the back of it.

Carmen’s chest heaved as he let the news wash over him, it seemed since the two of you had your falling out the universe was continuously pushing him to interact with you. He raised his hand to his face, rubbing it up and down as he added another item to the long list of things going wrong with the restaurant.

In a way, learning that you were responsible for trademarking the name made Carmy’s chest feel warm. It felt like you wanted this for Mikey just as much as he did, the two of you both supporting Mikey in ways the other never knew. It also gave him an excuse to speak with you, not that he needed one. If he was a better man he would’ve already worked up the courage to reach out to you. He could feel a headache coming on the more he thought about trying to fix things with you.

Carmen was sure he’d figure things out soon, he wasn’t sure how much longer he could figure things out with you not by his side. Which he would admit was quite ironic considering all the times he had willingly pushed you away. But being pushed away by you had proven to him just how badly he was screwing things up with you, to hear you be so upset by his actions he basically forced you into confessing your love stung him to his core.

Carmy wasn’t exactly sure what love was supposed to feel like, but he was almost positive it wasn’t this. The ache in his chest from not being around you, looking for you in every crowd he was in. Soaking up any conversation your name was mentioned in. Maybe he did know what love was supposed to feel like, because for all the time he had been in love with you, he had never once felt so completely and utterly broken as he had been since not fighting for your love a year ago like he should have.

“That was Nat,” you looked up as Pete returned to the table, a smile growing on your face at how happy he looked to have been speaking with his wife. “Cat’s out of the bag! Our pregnancy is no longer top secret!”

Pete’s excitement was contagious, your smile growing wider at his pure joy. “Our pregnancy?” You chuckled never having heard anyone refer to it as if the pregnancy was shared.

You watched as Pete sipped the water in front of him, a signature goofy smile back on his face. “Of course! I mean yeah Nat is carrying the baby, but I’m just as pregnant as she is.” You gave Pete a confused look, a laugh bubbling out of you.

“You laugh now Baby, but I’m serious.” Pete paused as the waiter brought out the bread for your table, both of you quickly thanking them. “Nat’s my partner you know? And I’m so grateful for her providing me the opportunity to be a father. Allowing me to build with her, for us to come together and bring a child into this world, it’s a beautiful thing I love her ya know.”

The sheen in Pete’s eyes was enough to make you emotional you didn’t need to hear his explanation to know how much Pete loved Natalie, you could just see it in the way he looked at her, in the way his face would light up when anyone would mention her name or ask about her.

“I’m happy that Nat has someone like you to build a life with.” Both you and Pete shared misty-eyed smiles, chuckles leaving each of you at how emotional the small things made both of you.

“Looks like that dinner you were planning just turned into a full-blown baby shower!” The loud clap Pete’s hands made startled you. “Wow, it really will be a Baby shower!”

You watched as Pete laughed at his own pun, doing your best not to laugh along with him and encourage his bad jokes. The relationship you developed with Pete was a bit weird in the beginning, you weren’t the most open to the idea, and it’s not because you didn’t like Pete, it just felt like you were replacing Mikey.

It took a while before you could look at Pete and realize he wasn’t trying to replace Mikey’s role in your life, and that the drugs and paranoia had driven you to that conclusion. Pete was a great man, standing by Natalie’s side while she fought to keep you alive. Probably being more accepting than someone else may have been when he and Nat decided to help you. Pete and Natalie both put aside their own lives to help you get better, and get back on your feet, and while part of you wished Mikey was around to ground you as well, Pete’s love and kindness didn’t deserve to be taken for granted.

“That dinner was supposed to be a surprise for you too Peter,” you shot him a tiny glare before reaching for some bread. “I just wanted you both to have a nice night off together, no stress.” The reservation had already been made, but thinking about Pete’s words and the excitement when explaining most everyone knew about the pregnancy, maybe it would have been best for an intimate shower for the two soon-to-be parents.

Pete was definitely a family guy and Natalie came from a big family, maybe a shower would be for the best. Surround them with people who loved and supported them and just allow everyone to bask in the happiness the joyous news brought, you were sure everyone could use a break.

“Okay hypothetically say I put together a small shower for the two of you, is that even something Nat would want?” Sure you knew Nat but Pete was her husband and this was their moment, you didn’t want to ambush her with a party she never wanted.

You watched Pete bristle a little, a nervous smile raised to his lips, “I uh I’m not sure if Nat ever told you but she kinda had this…this whole dream about the two of you,” you frowned confused at what Pete was talking about.

“Well not like an unconscious sleeping dream, more like a-an idea?” Pete’s voice rose at the end of his sentence, not sure if the question in his tone was meant for you or him.

“Pete bud you lost me.” You gave him a small nod of encouragement awaiting his response.

“Um so…after your uh…loss,” a sad smile rose to Pete’s lips, you could see the apology in his eyes. “Nat she uh…she confided in me about how she always wanted to be the one to throw you a shower if you ever decided to have children. And if-when we had our own she’d want you to be in charge of hers…if you wanted to not like she would force you.” The nervous huff of laughter from Pete hung in the air for a minute.

The admission perplexed you, Nat had never brought this up to you directly and maybe it was because she felt like she couldn’t. You weren’t the most open when it came to the topic of your miscarriage always avoiding the conversation whenever Nat tried to breach it.

“Baby…you’re the closest thing Natalie has to a sister. I can promise she would be ecstatic no matter what decision you choose.”

You nodded, the motion happened unconsciously as you tried to take in everything Pete had laid on you. Of course, there were things Nat wouldn’t share with you, but while the two of you were like sisters you didn’t expect her to share every little detail with you. As you let Pete’s words digest you couldn’t help the warm feeling beginning to flood through your body, if you were being honest you weren’t sure if it was the best idea to be throwing anyone a baby shower, but you also knew Natalie deserved to be celebrated, not only for the life she and Pete were creating together, but also for all the work she was doing to ensure that The Bear had a fighting chance.

“Okay,” your head continued its up-and-down motion. “Yeah okay let’s do it but I’m going to need your help, Pete.” You watched the smile on his face increase tenfold, your own wide smile spreading your lips due to how contagious Pete’s joy was.

“Anything and I mean anything Baby, I am your guy.” Pete’s giddiness warmed you even more, you didn’t think you had ever been surrounded by anyone with such a positive attitude before. In the beginning, when Natalie and Pete first began dating, his electric personality was a bit much but you found yourself always trying to make Pete feel included, especially with how off-putting the rest of the Berzatto clan could be.

And when you were recovering it was almost like you had to re-acclimate yourself to Pete’s personality. Your recovery was hard, there were some days you weren’t even sure if you wanted to get better or if you wanted oxygen to continue filling your lungs. But Pete was so positive and always looking at life and your situation with a ‘glass half full’ mentality, that his constant belief in you helped to make the hard days easier.

A small sigh escaped your lips as you readied yourself for the question you were about to ask. “Pete, do you think you could give me Carmen’s number?” You tried not to roll your eyes as you saw Pete’s own light up, you were almost positive he would be telling Nat about this topic of conversation. “Before you get any ideas, I just need it to invite him to the shower.” You raised your hands in defense hoping Pete wouldn’t look into this any more than he already was.

“No can do B, the idea train has already left the station.” His fingers drummed on the table with excitement. “But I will do you one better,” you frowned as you watched Pete pick up his phone, fingers skating across the screen before he held it up to show you. A call to Carmen already going through as Pete sent you a thumbs-up.

You looked at the screen eyes wide, the shock temporarily paralyzed for a moment. The quiet sound of the ringing between the two of you brought you back. “Pete! Hang up the phone.” Your voice was terse as you spoke trying not to draw too much attention from other patrons.

Pete laughed, “He never answers my calls anyway.” Pete’s words irritated you, but you were glad to see the call go to voicemail before Pete pressed the end call button and set his phone down.

You let out a surprised laugh, Pete had definitely been too influenced by the Berzattos during his time with Natalie. The little stunt he just pulled was something you knew both Richie and Mikey would do if given the chance.

“Baby?” Your head raised eyes meeting Pete’s, “I know this may sound selfish, but I…I need you to figure out this thing between you and Carmen.” Your eyebrows furrowed the need to defend yourself hitting you full force, you opened your mouth to respond but stopped as Pete raised his hand, a signal to let him continue.

“I know Baby, I know. I’ll be honest with you, as much as I love Nat’s family I think you should’ve given up on Carmen a long time ago.” Your jaw fell slack, and Pete’s eyes widened a bit. “No, no just for your own wellbeing, your peace of mind.” You began nodding as Pete explained himself better. “I just, whatever is going on between you and Carmen, it’s affecting Nat. And she won’t tell you because you deserve to feel how you feel, but with the baby and the restaurant…she doesn’t need to play "Fix it Felix” with you and Carmen right now.”

You let out a small chuckle at Pete’s explanation, over the years he had begun expressing himself to you more. You being the only one on Natalie’s side who actually gave him the time of day and willfully listened to him, helped him to gain more confidence when around the rest of the Berzattos. You reached for your glass of water, taking a long sip before setting it down.

“Thank you, Pete, for being honest,” you sighed, finger playing with the condensation on your cup. “If I’m being honest, it's easy to forget that Nat’s in the middle of everything. She’s so good at pretending it doesn’t affect her.” A rueful smile rose to your lips, as great as a friend as Natalie had been to you through everything, you weren’t sure the same could be said for yourself. “You’re right, Carmen and I are adults, we should be able to figure this out ourselves. I’ll…I’ll call him, figure things out.” You sent Pete a small smile.

Recently it felt like Natalie and Pete nursed you back to health and then for some reason became your surrogate parents. You didn’t think there was anything wrong with leaning on them, the three of you did endure a traumatic experience together so it was understandable. But maybe you had become too comfortable and relied on them too much to ‘fix’ your life. You could understand where Pete was coming from and he had every right to put his wife’s well-being before the feelings of his friends.

You knew Natalie and Pete would be amazing parents and of course, Nat’s fears were valid. But you had seen firsthand just how loving, caring, and kind the couple was, and while that wasn’t all that went into raising a child it was like a part of you just knew that their child would be in great hands.

“Enough about my poor life choices Pete, have you guys thought of any names?” The timing of the question couldn’t have been more perfect, Pete perked up at the question, eyes glazing over with excitement. A waiter stopped by your table to deliver your entrees as Pete began animatedly explaining his and Nat’s process for picking names.

A part of you ached at how happy Pete was, if things were different, maybe in another life you would’ve been able to see that excitement on another man’s face. Maybe the two of you would’ve come up with your own system for picking out names.

You listened as lunch continued, no matter how many times the thought had crossed your mind, you would always be grateful that Natalie had found a partner to love her in the ways she deserved.

It was silent between you and Cortez as you made your second lap around the block, the church in the distance behind you. Your hands were preoccupied with a warm disposable cup of hot cocoa as Cortez gingerly sipped his choice of tea. This had become the routine for your meetings with your sponsor, the two of you would meet at the bodega a little ways away from the church that housed both AA and NA meetings. Then continue your meeting with a few circles around the block before ending at the church stairs when all was said and done.

The air was tense between the two of you, Cortez hadn’t taken kindly to your decision to skip out on the few check-ins that you had asked for. In the beginning, you were in constant contact with Cortez, feeling the match between the two of you out. As you progressed through recovery and got back into the routine of daily life the daily talks between the two of you began to dwindle as you settled into life as a recovering addict.

But after that initial meeting at The Beef, being in Carmen’s presence again, surrounding yourself with Richie and the life you once knew, the meetings with Cortez picked back up in frequency. And you were doing fine for some time, the man meeting with you when you needed it, always willing to speak with you whenever you asked and it was helpful, god was it helpful. But then you made it to step nine, step eight in the recovery program was its own monster that Cortez helped you through especially when it came to who didn’t need to be on your list.

You made the decision to text Cortez after admitting your faults to Richie. As great as it felt to finally be open with Richie and let him into your life, it also brought with it the urge to use again. Richie had been kind enough to take the bottle of champagne off your hands that night, but the desire to call Fak and ask if Theo had anything he could spare almost won out. But as you scrolled through your contacts the red icon hovering over the voicemail tab brought you back to your senses.

“So your friend Richie knows?” Your eyes shot to Cortez taking in his side profile before focusing back on their attention focused on the steaming paper cup of coffee gripped in their hands.

“Yeah, his daughter kind of spilled the beans.” You nodded playing with the frayed edges of your jeans.

“That’s a bit fucked up don’t cha think?” Cortez’s brows furrowed. “I mean how does his little girl know but he don’t that’s gotta hurt.”

You rolled your eyes, “Aren’t you supposed to like not be judgmental?” Cortez’s laugh felt like it was grating on your ears, as good a sponsor as he was, he had the personality of an annoying older brother you were happy not to have.

“It ain’t even judgment though, it’s an observation.” You didn’t have to be looking at him to know that annoying smirk was on his lips as he shrugged his shoulders.

You stopped as Cortez dropped his now empty cup in a trash bin on the street, “Didn’t know you received your inspector gadget certification.”

“That smart ass mouth is bouta be the reason you out here looking for a new sponsor,” you let out a cackle before taking a much-needed sip of your hot cocoa. “Sound like my daughter with that dumb shit.” If you didn’t know the man who was walking by your side, you would’ve thought he was actually upset, but you could tell by the uptick of his lips he didn’t take anything to heart.

The two of you rounded the corner coming up on the church. You watched as Cortez plopped his long limbs down on one of the steps, opting to sit on the railing. Cortez took out his pack of cigarettes bringing the box to his mouth and removing one before offering the box in your direction. You slipped one out a small laugh escaped you at the irony of everything, how you had once been so against the cancer sticks that those around you would make sure not to smoke around you. And then instead of indulging in a nicotine addiction, you turned to alcohol and prescription pills, the fact that you would smoke a cigarette here and there to appease your urges now felt a bit comical.

You leaned forward allowing Cortez to light your cigarette, “Man ain’t nothin’ like smoking on Big G’s doorstep.” Cortez’s voice filled the silence that had settled over the two of you, you took a drag of the cigarette, a small chuckle escaping you with the smoke.

“I used to hate these fucking things.” The disgust on your face was obvious even as the stick hung from your mouth.

“Why you take one every time I offer 'em’ then?” Cortez switched positions leaning his elbows on the step behind him as he stretched his long limbs out in front of them, offering a wave to the few people entering the church for whatever meeting was scheduled to take place.

You shrugged eyes falling to Cortez’s beat-up boots as you sucked the nicotine deep into your lungs, “They’re the same brand Mikey smoked.”

“Damn ma, that shits kinda sad.” The two of you locked eyes before small laughs left the both of you. You had been around Cortez for so long that you’d picked up on his need to turn most anything into a joke. And while in the beginning, it pissed you off, you realized that’s just who he was and that sometimes being able to laugh in serious moments or at your trauma was helpful.

“Nah seriously though better smokin’ these than messin’ with that shit that hooked you in the first place. Know what I mean?” You nodded, finishing off the cigarette in your hand before taking the second cigarette Cortez offered. You knew how these things went and had spent so much time with the man that you learned to read him. Cortez only ever smoked two cigarettes and offered you two if the conversation was gonna be a rough one.

“Where you at with them apologies?” You sighed letting the man light your cigarette one more time, allowing the fumes to warm your lungs.

You dropped from your seat on the railing, your backside had gone numb. You settled yourself to lean against the railing “I mean I told Richie the truth and there were a lot of apologies in that conversation. But I feel like he deserves a better apology.” You shrugged, your attention dropping to Cortez as he listened.

“Ima be honest wit chu, this might be the hardest part of recovery. Shit I know it was f’me admittin’ to my little girl her father was a fuckin’ junkie. But at the end of the day, you gotta remember this recovery shit is for you. If homeboy loves you like a sister like you say he does, all that should matter to him is that yo annoyin’ ass still here. A’ight, ma?” You listened, nodding along to his words. “All you can do is apologize for the shit you did, you can’t control whether people forgive you or not, and remember ain’t nobody gotta fuck with your apology if they don’t want to.”

You let Cortez’s words settle into you, to anyone else his words may not have seemed genuine but this is just who Cortez was. And you knew no matter how nonchalant he sounded he was speaking every word from his heart.

“You still fuckin with that lil dumbass boy?” The question caused you to choke on the last bit of cocoa in your cup.

“We had a falling out, he’s one of the people I have to apologize to though.” The cigarette between your fingers continued to burn. “There’s a lot I still haven’t told him…the substance abuse, the reasons behind my overdose.” An exhausted sigh pushed its way through your lips. It was like one thing after another when it came to you and Carmy.

“No goons Cortez, please. Wait, have you ever actually put a hit on somebody before?” You obviously didn’t know Cortez as well as you would have if the two of you were friends. But it wasn’t hard to tell that he would get down if need be.

“Why someone say somethin’?” The two of you shared a laugh, the now more frequent people entering the church signifying that your time together was coming to an end.

“Aight, I gotta head in, get shit set up in there. But ima send you the info for Nar-Anon you give that shit to people who still choose to put up with yo ass. You comin' in?”

You shook your head sending him a small smile, “I came to the morning meetings today.”

You nodded in thanks as Cortez stood up, pushing yourself off the railing. You placed the cigarette between your lips leaving your hands open to do the handshake Cortez insisted you did after each meeting. When he first introduced it you were still getting used to the idea of being a recovering addict and thought he was fucking crazy. But you realized he used it as a way to break the serious desolate feeling that some of these meetings ended on, to help bring some light to what was such a dark reality.

At least that’s how he explained it to you, but you were sure he just liked doing the handshake his daughter helped him come up with.

“Ima see you when I see you ma stay straight.” You chuckled before turning on your heel to head to your parked car. Putting the bud of the cigarette out against the trash bin you passed. It was still early, enough time for you to knock out some baby shower shopping before it got too late.

Carmen stopped in his tracks, eyes finding your figure across the street. You were in front of the church that held the Al-Anon meetings he told you about. Maybe you would be attending the one he was here for, his eyes traveled to the man sitting on the steps you were talking to eyebrows furrowing as he realized the vapors leaving your mouth weren’t from your warm temperature, but instead the stick you had raised to your mouth.

“Baby?” The question left his lips in a quiet whisper, he knew it was you standing across the street but it had been a few weeks since your last interaction he was sure he had imagined you. But he would know you anywhere, by scent alone. He couldn’t help the shock at watching you smoke, something you had been so opposed to since the two of you were children. Even going so far as telling Carmy you couldn’t be friends when he smoked his first cigarette at 15, the stalemate barely lasted a day after you realized how dumb the idea was.

Carmy watched as the two of you stood up, his hopes to see you inside dwindling as he watched the two of you begin to part ways, an intricate handshake taking place before you turned to leave. He watched as your figure disappeared around the corner, a quiet ‘shit’ leaving his lips before he darted across the street trying to catch you before you were gone for good.

“Baby! Hey!” His shouts were useless, you were too far gone to have even heard him. “Fuck!” One hand raised to sit on the bill of his cap, the universe seemed like it was doing everything in its power to keep the two of you apart. Or maybe it was just the way things were meant to be.

Carmy turned to see the man you were with still standing in the same spot you left him, eyes narrowed as he took in Carmy’s figure. The man eyed Carmy for a moment longer, sending a head nod his way before turning and entering the church. Carmy was tempted to follow the man and ask about you, but whatever your relationship with the unknown man was, it was none of Carmy’s business.

He sighed eyes shooting up to the sky before taking a deep breath and making his way inside, not wanting to be late and disturb the Al-Anon meeting before it began. Carmy made his way to the room where the meeting usually took place, eyes landing on the same man from outside once more as he greeted members, the sign near the door he stood by signifying it was an NA meeting. Carmy stopped for a moment, eyes darting between the man and the sign he’d just read.

“You lost kid?” Carmy looked at the man brown furrowed as he shook his head, he sent a tight smile the man's way before walking two doors down for his own meeting. Carmen’s brain felt like it was racing a mile a minute. If you weren’t coming to the Al-Anon meeting, why were you here? And why were you talking with someone who appeared to be leading NA meetings?

The vibrating of his phone caught his attention, the device easily slipped out of his pocket. He felt the air leave his lungs as your name flashed across his screen, he realized just how indecent setting that Polaroid picture of you with his chain on might have been now that he was in public, but it’s not like he ever thought you’d call him.

How’d you even get his number?

“Carmen, hey, we’re about to start your coming?” His head shot up to one of the usual who attended these meetings and would talk to him on occasion.

“Yeah uh, just give me a minute.” Carmy gave a tight smile, eyes flashing back to his phone finger moving to swipe across the screen, the call abruptly ending before he even got the chance to hear your voice. Carmen was sure he had the worst luck in the world, a defeated sigh leaving him, he was almost positive there was no chance you were calling him back.

Quickly putting his phone on Do Not Disturb and in the safety of his jacket pocket, he entered the meeting, as much as he wanted to drop everything and fix things with you. He wasn’t even sure what you had called him for. Carmen also knew it was for the best to attend the meeting,

Carmen was sitting in his car allowing it to warm up as he waited. The skyline began to reflect the sunset, the time on the dashboard letting him know it was around dinner time. He fished his phone out of his pocket mindlessly checking the notifications he’d gotten while in the meeting.

Carmy’s brows furrowed at the flurry of messages he received from a group chat he wasn’t aware he was a part of. He frowned as he opened it, your contact is one of the many in the text chain. The only contact with a photo was yours, making you easily distinguishable, he realized the rest of the people in the chat were the restaurant crew. He scrolled through the messages eyes reading over your message with details about a baby shower, your address included.

Carmy exited out of his messages, unsure of how things were between the two of you. It had been three weeks since the argument and neither of you had tried contacting the other. But here he was with a message from you, and a missed call and he wasn’t sure how to take any of it.

He decided it was a good idea to call you back, and try and feel out the atmosphere between the two of you. His heart felt like it was stuttering in his chest as his finger hovered over his screen; you left him a voicemail. He needed to know what the message said, but a part of him was also worried he might not like what he heard, he had hurt you too many times to count, and if whatever you had to say to him broke him down more than he already was, well then he was sure he deserved it.

Carmen took one last deep breath before clicking on the voicemail and raising the phone to his ear, heart pounding in his chest as he heard the sweet whisper of your voice.

‘Hey Carmen, uh it’s me…Baby. Not sure why I introduced myself. I'm sure you know it’s me.” Carmy let out a watery chuckle at the sound of your voice, even if he hadn't saved your number the delicate timber of your voice would’ve been enough for him.

“Listen uh, I got your number for Pete. I hope you don’t mind, I know you have issues with girls actually having your number…Sorry, that was actually kind of rude. Anyway, I uh…Pete helped put things in perspective for me and I, I think we need to talk Carmen. I’m not sure when or if you even want that, but I think we both deserve a chance to explain our side of things. I um…I also have some things I think you should know. Just, if this is something you’re interested in, you have my number.” Carmen felt his heart rate slow down your words, nothing more than a piece offering.

“I just want to be clear though, um..if I don’t hear back from you, I’m going to take that as a sign. So yeah, call me back or something I guess.” The line finally went silent, your voice no longer caressing Carmy’s ears.

It felt like he was having heart palpitations but he knew it was just his nerves getting the best of him. He pulled the phone away from his ear, the time on his phone reading 5:30 p.m. Carmy quickly opened the group chat scrolling through to find your address and open it up in maps. You lived about 30 minutes from where he was, he was confident he could get there in 20 and spare the 10 minutes at a store near you.

Carmen made his decision as he set his phone down in the cup holder before beginning his journey. The ball was in his court, you had given him an olive branch and it was up to him whether he accepted it or not. He was nervous, maybe showing up at your house to cook you dinner wasn’t his most thought-out plan but he needed you desperately, needed to see you, be in your presence, and know that there was still a chance of something more between the two of you.

The hope Carmy felt when he saw you calling him earlier was now back tenfold: the pendant delicately resting against his chest felt warm. Carmen was adamant that he would admit his love for you tonight, unsure if he could go another day living with the fact that you were in love with him, but you still didn’t know just how much he had always loved you. You were so blissfully unaware that since he could remember, you had been the one and only option in his mind.

a/n: wowza, long time no see. i apologize that this is a bit of a filler chapter but it felt kinda necessary idk. anway please let me know if there are any problems with this chapter it's barely edited. enjoy : )

also also: both richard cabral as coco in mayans and manny montana as rio in good girls inspired cortez the sponsor, but head canon him as whoever you want…okay bye now 🤍

#we missedddd you 🤍#take as many breaks as you need!!#i loved the family moments in this even though carmen/richie were just bickering again #we finally met cortez!! 👏🏻#carmen berzatto x reader #the bear fic #i add my comments in my note app and i read the whole chapter but forgot to finish my notes omg

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duskamethyst · 4 years ago

Text

make it right.

a/n: i was on a writing high. i initially hated this so much but ended up with 12 pages long.

word count: 5.1k

genre: mature, smut, nsfw, angst to fluff

warnings: mentions of abortion, pregnancy

pairing: hawks x f!reader

𝅘𝅥𝅮 music rec: the reason by hoobastank 𝅘𝅥𝅮

summary: you told keigo that you’re carrying his child but he didn’t take it well. five years later he shows up in front of your door after being invited by his son and says he wants to fix everything.

you lean down towards the counter as you concentrate on creating pretty swirls of cream on the cake you baked with a piping bag. the dining table is full of food, a feast almost too huge for only two people, but you have a good excuse. it is a special day. your son’s fifth birthday to be exact.

kids these days can be ruthless and your son doesn’t get along very well with the other kids from his kindergarten. they like picking on others that seem too fragile, too quiet – criteria that fits him well and it doesn’t help with the fact that they know he’s growing up without a father. your child never opened up to you about the constant mocking he faced until one day you overheard him sobbing through his pillow in his own room. it was dark, though the door was still open by an inch to allow a small amount of light to penetrate into the room whenever he slept. he said he wanted to sleep earlier because he was tired but the muffling sounds he tried to conceal betrayed his efforts when you passed by later that night.

it made you angry and disappointed in yourself. you really tried your best to juggle between being a mom and a dad at the same time, keeping an eye on your child and working your ass off to make a living for the two of you. you’d always put up a tough front, never broke down in front of him when you were dead tired from being overworked and the thought of him trying to not make you worry, shattered your heart into pieces. you know that all he deserves is a good life and you constantly blame yourself for not being good enough, mostly angry at your past self for not even knowing how to make good decisions and think things through.

if only you could turn back time, you would tell yourself to never get involved with a pro hero – to never get involved with someone who feels so responsible for other strangers’ lives but not their own child’s.

were you being selfish? for not understanding that his work always comes first? he can’t possibly have a family when he has villains out there that need to be put in their right place for their crimes. were you expecting too much from him?

“can’t you… get rid of it?” he muttered. his cold words felt like a sharp blade that just stabbed you in the heart. never once you thought that he would say that. how easy was it for him to ask you to throw out another life like it meant nothing?

“keigo, you can’t be serious.” you shook your head, your legs were already wobbling and you felt sick to your stomach. this news should be happy for the both of you but unfortunately, you two weren’t on the same page.

was it your fault? keigo never spoke about having a child together but he always said he’d love to build a family with you someday – he loved you, he would always protect you and be there for you. sure, it was a slip up this time. you always made sure to take proper measures to avoid pregnancy from happening but you were also more than glad to bear this child and you were convinced that keigo would be happy about it as much as you were. he loved you so much, after all.

“i don’t think…” he stammered, trying to find the right words. “give me some time.”

your lips pursed into a thin line, hands clenching hard and knuckles turning white. think? the uncertainty in his voice was already giving you the obvious answer. he couldn’t even look you in the eyes. he never wanted this.

“save the trouble, keigo.” you spat. “how about i’ll just leave so you don’t even have to think at all?”

keigo finally lifted up his head to look at you with wavering eyes, but he still couldn’t find the words to say, to comfort you. “what are you saying?”

“i’m still going to have this child. even if it means i have to do it alone.” with a sharp breath, you turned around towards the door.

you heard a frustrating sigh coming from your back, “you know i can’t. you know damn well that i have my job as a hero and i can’t look after… after a child!”

“but it’s your child keigo!” you turned around to scream and look at him again, tears already welling in your eyes, threatening to pour out.

“and what difference does that make?!” he yelled back. “in fact, that’s even worse!”

the room was quiet as the both of you just stood there. keigo slowly realizing what just came out of his mouth in the heat of the moment while you just stared at him in disbelief. both were standing stunned and speechless from what he clearly said. that was it, you thought.

“fuck you.” you cursed under your breath and immediately left his place, not even sparing a look back.

if he was sorry, he would chase after you. if he didn’t mean it, he would look everywhere for you.

but none of that happened.

you ended up going back to your hometown after that. it was shameful, to finally see your parents again but just to cry on their feet as soon as you saw their faces and telling them that you were carrying an illegitimate child. it was devastating for them initially but thankfully they easily accepted it, welcoming you to stay over at their place with open arms so they could help you throughout your pregnancy until the baby was born and grown. above all, you were still their daughter. living far away, your parents had never met keigo and they were shocked to know that you were having the no.2 pro hero’s baby but also disappointed at how he reacted when you told him the news.

however, what was done is done and you can only manage to move forward by raising the child with your utmost capability. you promised yourself that you’ll protect and raise this child with as much love and care a mother can offer. whatever it takes, even if you’ll have to do it by yourself.

you ended up living with your parents until your son turned four and decided to live independently, not wanting to burden them any longer. they didn’t want to let you go, the presence of the child brought so much joy in their daily lives. he was a bundle of sunshine and they loved him so much.

and kyō is just beautiful.

keigo’s genes manage to overpower your son compared to yours. fluffy but shorter blonde hair, dark and sharp on the inner corner of the eyes and not to forget the red wings on his back. it isn’t as big as keigo’s yet but it still stands out. although he takes on your personality more, every part of him reminds you of keigo and sometimes it feels like a jab to your chest. it hurts to be reminded of the man that hurt you and told you to get rid of the child you were bearing so ruthlessly.

throughout the years, you tried to make peace with the past. at first, it was hard to look at the news and see his face. he was almost everywhere, a lot of stores also sold his merchandise and his face even covered the magazines-- you realized you couldn’t escape him, your past. although he’s in the limelight, the media was still unaware about his private life and you were glad alas the similar features of kyō to the pro hero made some passersby and mothers at the park question you. fortunately, you already came up with a bullshit excuse like “he is such a big fan of hawks and he cosplays him every day… and oh, the wings are fake too.”

of course, strangers weren’t the only ones who inquired about it. even the little child himself could smartly notice his resemblance with the pro hero.

as soon as he first saw hawks on tv, he went on and on about how they looked so much alike. he was beyond fascinated, he could barely understand what the news was talking about at the time but being on the screen was more than enough to make him understand that hawks was an amazing guy. his eyes would twinkle in wonder when the news caught footage of him flying in the air with his red wings spreading graciously. if anything at all, kyō just couldn’t wait to flap his own smaller wings soon.

then one thing led to another. a question that any curious child would ask their parents about.

oftentimes kyō would ask you about his dad. why didn’t he have one like the other children he played with at the park and oftentimes you would try to avoid the topic and shrugged it off with a lame joke saying how you were also his dad and how you were powerful to have two bodies in one unlike other people.

he ended up growing tired of it one day, crying to you and asked if the reason why he didn’t have one was because he didn’t love him – something he heard one of the kids said. it broke you and you were lost for words. you called your parents for support and after much discussion, your mother thought he deserved to at least know the truth and you did just that.

luckily, he took it surprisingly well. even his little brain can comprehend the job of a top hero, he understood that it was a lot of work and keigo was often busy and far away. it was less to his liking when you made him promise you to not tell anyone about it and he should keep it as a secret because bad guys would chase after him if another single soul would know and his dad did it to protect him. it was a bad lie, but still, you had to do it.

later, kyō realized that his birthday was coming soon. he knew what he had always wanted. he didn’t know if he could have it but maybe… maybe if he tried and wished hard enough, it would come true.

he sneakily took your phone to look up “hawks'' on your phone, though at first he was only shown results and pictures of the literal bird before smartly adding “pro hero” at the back. with limited comprehension, he eventually managed to find the agency’s website before scrolling further to find the address to the agency and scribbled it down on a piece of paper.

“daddy?!” the bell has been ringing for a few times but you were too concentrated on decorating the birthday cake to even hear it but your son’s small wings flutter in excitement as he runs across the hallway to open the door.

your heart stops for a second. was that the reason why your son was pacing around the living room? you’re not expecting any guests for tonight’s dinner at all, especially the father of your child.

“hey! i got your letter!” the familiar excited tone of his voice bursts from the door as he speaks. he kneels down eye-level as his son and gives him a big hug. “happy birthday.”

“what letter?” you break into the conversation, arms folded in front of your chest as you lean against the wall with an unamused expression written across your face.

“i wrote daddy a letter!” your son says proudly, but you can already imagine the horrible squiggly lines on the handwritten letter.

“and you gave me a picture too. you look exactly like me, am so happy!” keigo chuckles, ruffling the hair of his boy, eliciting little giggles from the other. it’s a beautiful sight and it makes your heart ache a little at the image of what it could’ve been. if only he was fully ready to accept the fact that he was gonna bear a child. if only he knew how to balance between his career and personal life. you could’ve had the most beautiful family you’ve ever dreamed of.

“honey, can you go to your room for a bit? your daddy and i have to talk.” you say softly, hoping that he won’t take it any other way.

“am i.. in trouble?” kyō turns to you with a frown and puppy eyes – which he knows well that it would always work on you and it’s almost adorable how it’s exactly what keigo would do whenever he makes you annoyed with his antics. it’s just one of his ways to apologize to you.

you sigh and shake your head, “no. we’re gonna talk about…” you glance elsewhere as you think of an excuse. “your surprise present!”

“it’s not a surprise anymore if you say it like that, mommy!” the child laughs and scurries to his room as told and the both of you watch him with a smile tugged on your lips.

you turn back to keigo with a dour expression as soon as your son closes the door to his room, causing him to fidget a bit from his spot. he hasn’t seen it for years, after all. he’s about to pull you into a hug but instead, you quickly turn your heels around towards the kitchen.

“i still have things to do. either you help me with it or leave.”

he quickly takes off his shoes and follows you, taking in the view around the house before he enters the kitchen. the atmosphere is stuffy and tense while you sit on the stool to continue decorating the cake.

“you can help by setting up the plates. top cabinet.” you break the awkward silence and keigo obliges, he reaches the cabinet to take out the available plates and put them nicely around the table.

“you made it yourself?” he tries to make a conversation as he glances at you working on the cake.

“yeah.” you simply reply without taking your eyes off from your work.

“it’s nice. chocolate?”

“obviously.”

keigo sighs from the underwhelming response, “i know you don’t want me here but –”

“no shit.” you almost slam the table but quickly recompose yourself by taking a deep breath. for the sake of your son, you know you shouldn’t get into an argument right now, at least not today.

“look, i’ll leave as soon as this is over if that’s what you want.”

you glare at him, “it’s more than what i want right now,” then it’s your turn to sigh. “but i doubt that’s what kyō would want.”

keigo already knows his name from the letter but his lips etch into a warm smile at the sound of the name you’ve given to the-- his child and a small part of him wishes that he was there in the process of choosing a name for the boy together with you.

“okay, just for tonight. we’ll pretend like we’re a happy family.” you stand up from the stool after putting the last candle and set the cake in the middle of the table.

“...and what if we don’t have to?” he blurts out after a brief and quiet moment, immediately catching your attention. he notices the puzzled look on your face and continues, “what if we really start being a happy family from now and onwards?”

you blink once, twice. for a second, you feel a heavy pang in your chest as your brain processes the words that just came out from his mouth. it’s like déjà vu, only this time keigo has certainty in his voice.

the room falls dead silent again as you stare at each other. you’re finding words and about to open your mouth to say something but kyō suddenly interrupts from the corner of the kitchen and both of your attentions quickly turn to him.

“mommy..? i’m hungry.”

“oh, sweetheart. you’re just in time!” you walk up to kyō to carry him in your arms before bringing him to the dining table. his eyes sparkle at the variety of food spread across the table and his wings flutter in excitement.

“can you help light up the candles? the lighter is in the drawer.” you usher to keigo as you show your son his favorite food you made earlier while keigo quickly rummages through the drawer. he lights up each candle as you put down kyō on one of the chairs before he stands on his knees to reach close enough to blow the candles. the both of you excitedly sing happy birthday and clap your hands as he blows off the candles after a brief moment for a wish.

“what did you wish for?” keigo asks, affectionately patting kyō on the head.

“i wish to be a hero like daddy!” he exclaims, arms and wings spread in enthusiasm. a bittersweet feeling engulfs him-- a part of him is disappointed and ashamed of himself while another part of him is elated and relieved that he’s still looked up upon by his own child. in the corner of his heart, keigo thinks he doesn’t deserve it. kyō is a splitting image of himself (minus the color of his eyes that he takes after you) and it easily brings back visions of him from the past. he wanted to be a hero too, but his father wasn’t someone he could look up to. hence, making endeavor the only man he idolized.

he realizes he is lucky enough to be the person his son looks up to. he knows that this was what his own younger self would want. a father he can be proud of, a hero at that. keigo wants to make it right with whatever it’ll take.

the night proceeds smoothly, all three of you have fun together like any normal family would and bonding over lost times. keigo is thoughtful (though his choice seems a little bit conceited) enough to give kyō a present; an action figure of himself. unknowingly, the walls that you built around you by the time keigo arrived earlier slowly crumbles and you grow less wary around him as time ticks by. when it’s bedtime for the boy, keigo insists on putting him to bed so he can spend more time with him which you gladly consented to so you can also continue cleaning up the kitchen.

a set of footsteps coming down the stairs can be heard as you’re seated on one of the stools while sipping tea.

“want some tea?” you offer without turning around to look at the male.

“sure.” he says as he walks up to you.

you can feel his tall and lean build ghosting you from the back as you pour a cup for him but his hands suddenly reach your shoulders and give them light squeezes.

“what are you doing?” you ask quizzically, glancing at the hand on your shoulder.

“giving you a massage.” he smiles innocently as he continues pressing on the knot in your stiff shoulders, making you sigh in reflex.

“trying to get on my good side?” you say in a mocking tone.

“hmm, just showing my appreciation to you.” his hands move lower to your spine, your back arches a little as he presses down your aching muscles.

“you’re five years too late, keigo.” you sneer but welcome his service as you close your eyes and hum in content. it’s not that bad, you assure yourself in your head.

keigo diligently continues to massage your back as the kitchen now fills with your quiet sighs and whimpers whenever he rubs on the sore spot. without you realizing, he slyly pulls the collar of your baggy shirt down and plants soft kisses on your bare shoulder.

“k-keigo?” you immediately open your eyes and flinch at the sudden touch.

he remains quiet while his hands work up and down your arms gently and his lips move further up to your earlobe, sending tingling sensations down to your core and you can already feel your nipples harden underneath your shirt.

“relax.” his hot breath fans over your ear as he whispers. your cheeks are already burning red and you’re out of sarcastic remarks as you can only find yourself to indulge into his touches.

you gasp in surprise when keigo’s hands sneakily move under your shirt and quickly unsnaps your bra. he massages your breasts and kneads them gently before teasing your erect nipple between his fingers. your hands firmly clenches the edge of the island to hold yourself as he nips on the crook of your neck, just gently to carefully not leave a mark.

“you want more, babybird?” he coos as he realizes that your thighs are pressing against each other. as much as you hate to admit it, the nostalgic pet name tugs on your heartstrings and you find yourself melting after hearing it after years again.

feeling embarrassed, you quietly nod your head.

“i can’t hear you.” a teasing tone lingers in his voice. he knows what he’s doing and you hate him for it.

“more, keigo...” you whine. it sounds so innocent and adorable but it absolutely makes his cock twitch. noticing that you’ve been avoiding looking at him the whole time, he uses one of his hands to make you look at him and grins when he catches the red tint spread across your face before he presses his lips onto yours.

the traces of your ego make you hesitate at first but you’re quick to lose it as he deepens it, as if to send you a silent message of how much he misses you while his tongue intertwines with yours.

one of his hands remains to massage your mound while the other travels down south to easily part your legs and cups your heated sex. keigo rubs the clit against the fabric of your pants, eliciting breathy moans from your lips between kisses. you pull away and lean back to his body as he slides his hand under your pants, feeling the wet patch that is already staining your underwear.

“already wet from all of that?” he says playfully, taking out his hand to look at the damp juices as he rubs it between his fingers.

“says the man that was grinding his cock on my back.” you roll your eyes halfheartedly, missing the faint blush that becomes apparent on his cheeks.

keigo then reaches for the cups in front of you and pushes them aside before lifting you up on the kitchen island, making you turn towards him. he swiftly pulls down your pants along with your underwear, your cunt bare and glistening under the lights for him to see.

his golden irises lock with yours as he kicks the stool to the side and crouches down to spread your thighs apart. he starts to lap off your juices, tongue alternating between your throbbing clit and hole. your elbows help to prop you up as your head hangs back and your eyes close in pure bliss.

keigo smacks and clenches your thighs to draw your attention to him, “baby, look at me.”

you submissively lift your head to look at him, eyes locking with each other again as he watches you squirm on the tongue flicking your clit and eats you out like a starved man having his first meal after a long day.

you grab a lock of his blonde hair in one hand, pushing him closer as your legs tremble around his head, feeling the bubbling sensation of your orgasm building up.

“mmh – gonna cum!” you cry out in ecstasy, instantly forgetting the people next door and your son that’s sound asleep on the upper floor as you chase after your high.

keigo smoothly slides two fingers inside your pussy and your hips begin to grind desperately onto them. he knows you’re close when he feels the walls clenching around him and with another suck on the clit, he quickly gets to tip you over the edge.

“so good for me.” he coos as he pulls away, licking his fingers clean before carrying your panting body in his arms and walks over to sprawl your body on the couch. he hovers on top of you and kisses you again while his hands work on unzipping and taking off his lower garments to free his throbbing cock.

he smears the precum by pumping his cock as he watches you down, adoring the look of absolute bliss on your face and half lidded eyes that he longed for over the years.

“my songbird,” he purrs as he leans down to you and lines his cock with your wet cunt, “you’re so beautiful.”

if you’re already red, the endearing pet name makes you even redder. your gaze avoids his to hide your embarrassment but he only draws it back gently by your chin with his thumb and finger.

“don’t you miss me?” his brows furrowed as he searches your face. you can only stare back into his eyes – bright irises filled with nothing but genuine curiosity and desolation.

your lips pull into a thin line as you ponder for a moment, promptly unable to vocalize like earlier. it’s as if you let even one word escape your mouth, it would make you burst into tears instead. of course you missed him. your mind often wondered if he even thought of you at least once. even when you did make peace with the past, you still couldn’t bring yourself to be the one to make the first step. ego is an ugly thing and you were certain that keigo should be the one to look for you even if it was hard for him since you just disappeared out of his life.

noticing the reluctance to give him an answer, he shushes you. “it’s okay.” he kisses you sweetly on your nose. “but let me show how much i’ve missed you.”

he trails open mouthed kisses down your jaw, neck and collarbone as your hands run through his hair and down to his back. a soft whine manages to escape from your mouth when he nibbles on the soft flesh of your neck, instantly marking it red this time.

his mouth then latches onto your nipple through your shirt, making you squirm beneath him. your hands clenches to the fabric of his shirt when you feel his fingers teasingly dancing between your wet folds and his thumb ghosting over your clit.

keigo gives you a kiss on the lips again before pulling away, the cushion dips as he props himself on the knees, rubbing his hard cock against your wet slits and smearing it with your juices.

a low hiss slips from his lips as he slowly prods in the tip of his cock and your expression twists into discomfort as you feel him stretch you out more – a familiar mixture of pain and pleasure that you haven’t felt for a while.

keigo waits for you to adjust and as soon as you give him the greenlight, he continues to completely balls deep inside you.

“babybird, you feel so good.” he grunts as he bucks his hips and slowly starts to move.

you bite your lower lip hard, enough to draw blood as you try to stifle your moans. keigo leans down to kiss you while your arms find themselves wrapping around his neck. he thrusts harder and faster and your whimpers and whines finally find themselves shamelessly slipping past from your mouth.

“fucking– hah– perfect.” he pants as he pulls away to look at your flustered face, eyes half closed and mouth agape with pleasure.

you quickly bury your face on the crook of his neck and hold onto him tighter while your legs wrap securely around his waist. keigo moves his thumb on your clit, pressing down and rubbing circles all to entice nothing but tightening the coil down in your core more.

“keigo, keigo –” you cry as your nails dig the fabric on his back and your toes curl to the intense sensation.

“baby wants to cum?” he growls as he feels your walls clamping around his cock, making him buck his hips even wilder.

“yesyesyes – oh god, keigo!” your mind turns putty and unable to form any more coherent words, making only his name being the only thing you remember as your eyes close shut while you’re nearing your high.

“that’s it – baby. cum on my cock.” he encourages and you do just that. your pussy flutters as you finally reach your orgasm but his sporadic thrusts doesn’t stop until it starts to falter and his wings tremble.

“fuck. i’m gonna fill you up.” he grits through his teeth and his cock twitches before his wings spread wider as he releases his warm cum inside you.

the both of your bodies stay against each other, chests heaving for air before he briefly pulls out his cock and lays on top of your chest.

“yes.” your voice suddenly croaks, breaking the almost silent air in the room if not for the sound of yours and his breathing.

keigo lifts up his head to look at you confusingly before a lopsided smile curls on his lips when he hears you utter the next few words.

“yes. i missed you and i don’t want to pretend anymore.” you suddenly feel overwhelmed and tears start to well in your eyes. a flash of panic crosses his face and he pulls you closer into his embrace, hoping to calm you down as you sniffle on his chest.

“shh, baby. i’m sorry. i know it’s too late and i was so fucking stupid but i’ll – ”

“i want to live as a happy family with you, keigo.” you cut him off, sobbing through his shirt. he pulls away at once to look at you, unable to believe what he just heard through the choking sob but it still makes even him want to cry.

“babybird, i – ” he’s completely tongue-tied. at this point he can only manage to lean down to be close to you again. he peppers kisses all over your face, saying how thankful and happy he is.

“i love you, my little bird. i won’t fuck up this time, i promise.” he whispers, finally regaining his composure.

that night, keigo could barely sleep a wink. so many thoughts are running through his head. he glances at you sleeping peacefully next to him on the bed and he already pictures how it is to be waking up to see your face every morning. he also hopes that kyō doesn’t know how to fly yet so he could teach him how to use his wings. oh, he’ll also get to find an excuse to buy more buckets of chickens once you three will start living together.

he can already imagine how the headlines will be bombarded about him having a family and he sighs at the thought, but he hopes that his publicist is ready for a hell lot of work.

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demonicheadcanons · 4 years ago

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The Obey Me Brothers Reaction to MC Breaking Down Over Schoolwork

(Initial ask contains an ableist slur and so cannot be posted. Please, in future, refrain from using slurs in any asks sent in!! It has since been added to my rules and I will straight up delete asks with slurs in them. Thank you <3)

AN: Apologies for taking so long to get to this one, its been in my inbox for a while. I’m sorry you were feeling that way, its really difficult getting adjusted to everything again, I work in a school and a lot of the students and teachers alike are definitely really struggling. Best wishes <3

I think I’m usually okay at not letting slip that Levi is my favourite boy, but you can tell here ;u; Sorry

Lucifer

He realises all too late that things are probably tough. Initially Lucifer is distant, and whilst he notices how tired you look sometimes at RAD, he decides to ignore it - you were probably distressed because you had been pulled into the Devildom out of nowhere, you’d just have to adapt because nothing else could be done. In his mind it was pointless worrying about it.

However, as he begins to pay more and more attention to you, he realises its more than that. You frown in class, your grades jump around and you don’t leave your room regularly, probably too busy focusing on studying. The few times you’ve accepted his offer of help, you seem to be on edge.

He decides one night to check in on you, and he hears a harsh thud from a few paces down the hall. He throws the door open without knocking, convincing himself that he was just worried you might be hurt because they needed you for the exchange programme and it would be a pain replacing you now, months into the whole endeavour.

You whirl around, arm still raised, your grip tight on your textbook. He looks about and sees other books scattered about, the room a mess.

Lucifer makes a low growling noise in the back of his throat, raising a hand to press against his temples before he freezes, finally taking in the look on your face. Your eyes are wide, having been essentially caught by the one person you really, really wouldn’t want to see you right now. You lower your arm slowly as he approaches, taking your face in his hands before you can duck away from him.

His tone and expression are impossible to place as he silently examines you, gloved hands wiping across your cheeks to get rid of any traces of your tears. You don’t have the time to process any of it before he pulls you against his chest, wrapping his arms carefully around your shoulders.

Lucifer is silent, almost eerily so, and he holds you there without moving until you either push him away or until you stop sniffling and drop the book. Even when he does speak again, he’s quiet, deep in thought as he looks around the room and tells you simply to head over to his - he’ll bring you something to eat shortly, get some rest in the meantime. You mumble something about a test, and he waves a hand. He’ll bring the textbook, its fine, go rest.

It takes him a half hour to get to his room, carrying a tray with some tea and snacks. Your textbook is tucked under one arm, and he gently invites you to eat before he starts talking things out. He asks if classes are too difficult, asks if there’s anything in particular you’re struggling with. He makes a lot of offers - Luci is a busy guy, but he can free up a time slot if you want to study with him, or he can get you a tutor, or you can simply text him your concerns and he’ll respond as soon as he’s available. His advice is simple and realistic.

Once you’re done eating and drinking, he opens the textbook and goes over the things that are most likely to be on the test. He gives tips, explains the things that confuse you in a clear and concise manner. He’s a good teacher, and he’s a lot more patient than you’ve seen him before.

Overall, Lucifer is a quiet comfort, but a determined one. He works to make things easier for you in the background, marking out important parts of the textbook so you know what to focus on, and offering a hand whenever you need it. Also, when you get back to your room later, your books are neatly organised on your desk.

[Other brothers under the read more]

Mammon

Mammon randomly pops into your room quite often, making excuses about how he’s absolutely entitled to because he’s in charge of taking care of you. On this particular evening, you have absolutely no warning as per usual and he doesn’t bother knocking, because this boy only has good manners when it benefits him.

He freezes instantly, and he’s over to you in a second before you can throw whatever’s in your hand. His grip is careful but tight on your wrist and he squeezes until you let it go, tossing whatever it was onto your bed without looking and wrapping you up in his arms. You might feel trapped for a second, but he has this fear that you’re Going To Get Hurt and so he just holds onto you until you settle and start sobbing against his chest. (Mammon is panicking too much to think about it, and he’ll definitely apologise after and try not to do it again if he scared you.)

He pulls you over to the bed and sits you down, a hand smoothing through your hair. His grip remains on you at all times, and you can feel his hands shaking when he asks what’s wrong, MC? Did something happen?

Mammon listens carefully, swallowing and smoothing a hand over your hair when you tell him its because the work here is just too damn hard and you can’t do it, you can’t, you can’t remember all the dates for the history or recall the right Latin to say for this one course and its not like it matters anyway because you’re human, why would you need this?

He mumbles back “I know, I know,” and runs his hands down your arms, back, along your hair. Wherever he can to comfort you, wherever makes your breathing slow back to a normal pace and takes away the hiccups left from sobbing. He doesn’t force you to look at him, almost doesn’t want you to as he bites back sniffles and sobs and wipes his face against his sleeve because crying right now won’t fix anything for you.

When you’re both calmer again, he starts rambling about something or other to take your mind off it. Mammon isn’t one to offer any immediate solutions, and rather tries to distract you with stories until you fall asleep and he can lay you down and march straight to Lucifer and demand he talk to Diavolo about this, as fearless as if he were defending Belphie or Levi for accidentally breaking something.

You’re assigned a tutor, and have tutoring sessions with each of the brothers for things they’re good at, with Lucifer and Satan covering any areas the others don’t particularly excel in. Mammon himself helps you with maths, and although he isn’t always the best at explaining it, his presence along is comforting and helps makes working through a little easier, and he’s good for taking your mind away from any stress so that you can focus without worry holding you back.

Leviathan

He had just wanted to get something back that he loaned you, a book or DVD. He can’t remember what it was the second he hears a crash and throws open your door, and finds you in a ball on the floor, the room a mess around you. You don’t even look up as the door opens, and the two of you stay in place for a few moments.

Levi doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t know where to start, but he can do one thing. Quietly and carefully, he tiptoes around your room and starts putting things back where they belong. He tidies your desk, faintly organises whatever notes he finds by subject and piles them up together. He doesn’t touch you, because he’s worried you wouldn’t want him to right now, that he might scare you, and so he just tidies until the room looks a little more normal again.

When you finally look up, he’s sitting a few feet in front of you, headphones on as he stares at his D.D.D., either playing a game or watching a video or scrolling through Wikis as he waits patiently for you to start the conversation or ask for whatever comforts you need. You move over to sit beside him, and he blushes but takes off his headphones and holds an arm out so you can rest against his shoulder.

He lets you watch whatever is on his phone for a beat before asking in a hushed voice if you need anything, if something was wrong, or if someone (maybe him?) upset you. When you tell him it’s about schoolwork, he sighs and pulls you closer without thinking about it. He hands you his D.D.D. and puts his headphones on you, tells you to stay there for a bit and keep watching until he gets back.

Levi returns a few minutes later with Satan in tow, each of them carrying a bag with their own textbooks in them. Levi kneels down to take back his D.D.D. and headphones and to help you up, and tells you you’re all going to start studying together in the library. If you’d be okay with it, he means... he could use the help too, and maybe it wouldn’t feel so bad if you were there. Not for any reason in particular!

Study sessions are added to your schedule after that. Even on days where Satan is off doing something else, Levi will tutor you on whatever he finds easiest - usually history, and oftentimes its history involving the navy. His shyness melts away into confidence as he talks about all the things he’s done, about how he was appointed head thousands of years ago and he thinks he’s yet to let Diavolo down.

After study sessions you go and get a drink together, something like bubble tea or smoothies or whatever, and then play games together to relax and let the info sink in instead of obsessing over it. If you ever start to get stressed out again, Levi gently puts his headphones on you and the two of you wait it out together, and he smiles at you every time you take the headphones off and take a deep breath, ready to keep working. He’s proud.

Satan

Satan is observant enough to notice ahead of time that something is about to happen. You seem horribly stressed and unfocused in your classes one day in particular, and he decides to stop by your room the second he gets home to find out what was wrong.

He knocks and waits for a while, but you don’t answer, and he was sure he heard noise before but now your room is deathly silent. He carefully creaks the door open a bit to call in and see if you’re there, and hears paper crumpling against the door. Deciding to investigate, he opens it a little more and slides in through the gap.

The room is a mess of books and paper and pillows, and you’re at your desk, hands clamped hard over your ears. You’re making some kind of whimpering noise every now and then, and Satan starts to piece things together as he gathers up books in one arm and smooths out paper. He taps you on the back before moving back a pace or two, just in case.

You freeze before turning around to look at him, seeming almost guilty, and he doesn’t really get why you’d feel that way but he holds up your books and clears his throat. “Do you want some help?”

Satan is more practical than emotional and, whilst he isn’t sure what kind of comfort he can offer you right now, he knows he can help with the work, help make it easier. He pulls a chair over beside you, motioning for you to scoot over, and leans against you as he opens the first book and asks where you were struggling. He keeps a constant connection between the two of you, either has his leg against yours or his entire side against you so that you know he’s there, so that you’re permanently aware of his presence.

He doesn’t look at you too often, not when you can see him do it. Even then, there’s no judgement in his gaze, just his brows furrowing slightly out of concern until your breathing in alright and you start to smile in little bursts again. He smiles then as well, scribbling down some notes for you.

After that, Satan regularly pulls you aside after class and asks if you want to come out with him to a cafe or to the library, or he’ll call you to his room in the house and ask if you’ll let him teach you this set of notes so that he can remember it better. He’s subtle, never really brings up what happened and never asks you about it because he’s already got it all figured out in his mind. Instead, he just works on moving on from it and making sure it doesn’t happen again, and if it does, he’ll be ready to be there for you again.

Asmodeus

Asmo had decided to visit your room because you weren’t responding to his messages asking if you wanted to go out shopping with him. Majolish had new season wear and he absolutely needed to go get first pickings at it, and he wanted you there by his side.

He knocks but opens your door immediately after anyway, not giving you time to do much more than turn to face the door, bringing the pillow you were about to throw up over your face instead so he can’t read too much of your expression. He sees the tears, anyway, and without thinking walks over to you and holds your face in his hands.

His voice is laced with concern as he asks what’s wrong, and he immediately looks like he’s going to cry as well, but he just did his makeup and he’s not going to risk ruining it right now. Instead he moves over to the bed and pulls you down onto his lap, holding you tight against his chest. He keeps asking, every few moments, if something was wrong and if there’s anything he can do, and his eyes dart around the room to try to piece it all together. Your books were still out on your desk, pillows a mess around the room, and you... You were curled up against him, shaking and choking down sobs.

Asmo pouts and holds you in silence until you calm down and start talking to him, start telling him what was wrong, what subject you’d been struggling with over the past hour and you were still stuck on the same damn page and not making any progress and the test was only a few days away and everyone was expecting so much from you, you who never even asked to be here. Obviously you weren’t good enough for this, obviously they should’ve chosen someone better-

Asmo cuts you off there, pushes against your shoulders until he can see your expression and cup your face in his hands. He’s not having you put yourself down because you’re struggling with work that the centuries-old demons also had a hard time with, not on his watch, and he tells you just as much. When he’s done half-scolding you, his expression softens and he offers whatever help he can. He’s sure he can rope Satan or Lucifer into helping out, and if not he can charm the examiners into giving you a better score... he keeps going until some of his silly advice gets you to snort out a little laugh, and then he relaxes.

He lays back and pulls you down with him, sighing as he instructs you to take a nap, and then after you two can go out shopping and you’ll figure everything out as you strip Majolish bare of its new wonderful outfits. And Asmo keeps to his word. As you’re trying things on he talks through the stall walls, proposing different ideas to you whilst simultaneously boosting your confidence as he compliments you and finds the perfect outfits for you.

Asmo makes it clear that if ever you should need a distraction, just give him a call - there’s always something better to do than reading over textbooks, and he’ll throw in study sessions so long as you’re there to spend time with him. Anything to make you feel better.

Beelzebub

Beel was in the kitchen, clearing out the fridge as usual when he heard a muffled thud against the wall. He pauses, turning to look in that direction, and realises that its the wall attached to your room.

He’s outside your door in no time, and taps nervously against it with his fingertips before opening the door slightly and calling in to ask if you were okay, and could he come in please? He hesitates when you don’t respond, but decides to head in anyway, because you might be hurt and any embarrassments he’s sure the two of you could live with, but with an injury there was no guarantee, not for a human.

There are books everywhere, the room as messy as he’s ever seen it, and you’re... nowhere to be seen. Not until he hears a sniffle and rounds the corner into the dining room section, and finds you curled up in a ball against the wall, face against your knees. He’s quick to back away, worried that he’ll upset you more, but then Beel kneels down a few paces in front of you and leans forward to tap your arm.

You flinch and look up immediately, pulling your knees closer to your chest until you realise its him, and then you just look guilty. Beel’s chest hurts, he feels horrible - what happened to make you feel like this? Could he help, or should he go get someone else? He asks just as much, voice somewhat broken over the questions as he hesitates. He doesn’t get this anxious often, but right now you remind him of Belphie a few thousand years ago, and he doesn’t know what to do with that.

He pushes the thought away and slides closer, sitting against the wall beside you. His presence might not help, and he waits for you to tell him to leave, but after a while you press against his side and he opens his arms to you and holds you as tight as he can until you feel a little bit okay again. And then he asks, again, what’s wrong, and he waits for you to tell him, shaking but as patient as can be. You open up to him slowly, and he listens.

Beel doesn’t know how to help, doesn’t think he’d be a good tutor for you, doesn’t know how to relieve the stress really. But, he promises his arms are always there if you want a warm hug, and... he is sure that there is some resolution to be found, but for now you should just do your best and that’s all anyone could expect from you, and if anyone doesn’t like that then... he’ll be your bodyguard, ready to defend you at any moment. He was good at that, sometimes.

Beel smiles at you and gives you the warmest smile he can manage before tucking your head back against his shoulder or chest. He tells you to rest for a little while, and then you can try working again later. Whilst you’re asleep, he pulls out his D.D.D. and messages Belphie asking for advice, and then Lucifer. By the time you wake up, he’s got a few tips from the brothers and a tutoring timetable is being organised by Lucifer for the two of you, so that you wouldn’t be alone.

Belphegor

Belphie doesn’t know why he was on his way to your room, and he stops thinking about it the second he throws the door open and sees you crying. He’s too tired to put the pieces together as he looks around, too tired to really take in the room, but he’s on high alert when he runs over and wraps you in his arms, looking around properly to see if anyone was there, if anyone had hurt you.

You can hear him growling in the back of his throat until he slowly relaxes, shoulders lowering as he takes in how messy your room is. It must’ve been you, he decides, holding you closer to him. A demon would’ve left this place in a horrible state. But nothing was torn, just scattered around.

He’s more awake when he pulls you over to the bed and immediately lays down with you on his chest. He doesn’t get what’s wrong yet, but he’ll figure it out. He wills his powers, his sin’s influence, over you until you’re drowsy and fall asleep, still sniffling occasionally, and then he starts to work things out.

By the time you wake up, Belphie apologises for how disorientated you might feel. He probably should’ve talked to you first before making you fall asleep. He smiles sheepishly at you, but the concern in his eyes is only thinly veiled, and you can see through to it.

“So, school, huh?” he asks, lopsided smile almost teasing. He wants to make you smile, or laugh if he’s lucky. Instead you make a frustrated noise and press your face into his chest again, and he pats your head to comfort you. You hear him swallow before he pushes against your shoulders to get you to look at him again.

He’s not hiding so much when he asks what’s wrong, and he listens as you stumble through an explanation before sighing and asking if you want to take another nap. He grins when you glare at him, before adjusting you both so you’re sitting up again. “Let’s get to work, then. What subject is first?”

Belphie isn’t the best at a lot of the work, and he’s missed a lot of classes, but he’s a decent help and he keeps your stress down by cracking jokes and patting your head when you do well. He’s a comforting presence, and if you get overwhelmed again he leans his elbows against the desk, head in hands, and suggests you take another nap with him because he could really use one right now. He laughs when you swat at him and tell him to focus, and then looks at you and tells you that you can come to him if you need help, anytime. Don’t wake him up if he’s deep asleep, though - get Mammon or someone stupid to do that, he jokes, just in case he lashes out.

In future, Belphie will tap on your door when he knows you’re studying and, although he often falls asleep at your desk or just immediately heads over to your bed to nap, he gives off a comforting aura that makes the work a bit bearable for longer.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #fluff #breakdown mention #ask to tag #food mention #no beta reading as usual #time to queue #school

2K notes · View notes

cixthotshit · 3 years ago

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A Cup of Rose Americano

Pairing: Bae Jinyoung x Original Female Character|Reader

Genre: Smut, Fluff, Poor Girl/Rich Boy, Coffee Shop/Gangster AU (IDEK how I got here, just go with it)

Summary: There's more than meets the eye with every person, including Bae Jinyoung, the world's finest barista at Personal Barista Cafe

Word count: 4.7k

Rating/Warnings: Mature / Explicit Sexual Content: Porn With Some Plot, Kissing, Mirror Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Creampie

Author’s Note: I wanted to write a fluffy Coffee Shop AU but NGL something else has been preoccupying my mind and the world building to this fic kind of went off the rails and transformed into a completely different story. Enjoy this smut, readers! I really want to explore this world a lot more but IDK if I can commit to anything beyond this RN. So please, please enjoy this! Sorry in advance for mistakes! I don't always catch everything when I proofread.

I always appreciate some feedback on my writings!

"Really, it'll be a...new coffee experience," Hyeon assured Sandy. She handed Sandy a green card. It felt like an expensive platinum credit card, the card made of metal, feeling heavy and cold in her hand. "All you have to do is fill out a survey after you get your free coffee. Once you make it inside, hand the card over to your barista."

"Aren't you supposed to find actual volunteers?" Sandy asked, looking at the shiny card. The only thing on the card was the name of the new test cafe, PB Cafe.

“Trust me,” Hyeon said with a grin. “You’ve never had coffee like this. This is free, too. You’re going to say no to free coffee? And I swear, this is really me saying it, their coffee is really good.”

“Fine, thanks for the free coffee.”

“Enjoy!” Hyeon turned her back to Sandy, most likely scanning for potential test subjects for her new marketing event. Being her best friend, Sandy was always her first test subject. She didn’t know if Hyeon’s bosses approved of her taking advantage of all the free stuff she was receiving.

Sandy walked over to a shop that was setup at the southwest corner of a 3 story building. The walls were white and the windows were covered by white curtains. “PB Cafe” was written in black on the front door, though there were no door handles. Standing in front of the door, Sandy noticed a black square pad beside the right side of the door. She pressed the green card to the black pad and jumped slightly as the glass door slid open. A short piano tune played, sounding old but familiar, reminding her of old Hollywood movies from the mid-20th Century.

Tentatively, she stepped in. Walking past the white curtains, she found herself inside a small room. At the back end of the room was a small bar with one wooden chair in front of it. It only took her 4 steps to reach the chair, so she pulled it out and sat down. The wall behind the bar slid down to the floor and a broad shouldered man walked out from what looked like a bright white light before the wall slid back up behind him.

Too shocked to react, Sandy set the green card down onto the smooth marble countertop. Her eyes couldn’t leave the face of her barista. He was very handsome and his small grin softened his masculine exterior. Wordlessly, he took the green card and placed it in the front left pocket of his black apron.

“Welcome to Personal Barista Cafe,” he said in a soft, sultry voice. “My name is Bae Jinyoung, your Personal Barista today. How shall I address you?”

“Uh, just call me Sandy, I don’t like formalities much.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Sandy. If you don’t like formalities feel free to call me BaeJin or BaeBae.” She gave a soft chuckle and threw her hand over her mouth, feeling her cheeks warm up. Such a sultry man telling her to call him something as cute as BaeBae tickled her. “Is this your first drink with PB Cafe?”

“Yes,” she replied. “I don’t know anything about this cafe, except that you have good coffee.”

“A Personal Barista will make you a personalized drink,” he explained, pulling out a menu form. “Whatever you order, I will make it in front of you. If you want to know how I prepare your drink, please let me know and I will explain as I go. If you want small talk instead, I enjoy a small conversation as I prepare you a drink. If you want silence, for any reason, please don’t feel pressured to speak if you don’t want to.”

“Can I get an Americano?” she asked, after glancing at the long list of coffee drinks. The menu was simple and elegant, the writings were in cursive but the paper was black and the ink white. She liked the seemingly simple attention to detail. “How long have you been a barista, BaeJin?”

“Almost a year,” he replied. He poured fresh ground coffee into a metal contraption with a long neck. She pressed her lips together as her eyes were fixed on his skilled, large hands. He was using a device to compact the coffee grounds.

“Do you enjoy being a barista?”

“I do. It allows me to be creative. My regular job is stressful.”

He put the coffee grounds into the machine and pressed a few buttons. She watched him place a small white espresso mug under the spout of the machine. He grabbed a large white mug of coffee, and looked at her with a soft grin.

“This is your side hustle?” she asked. PB Cafe seemed like it paid well.

“Most people have more than one job these days,” he replied.

“That’s true,” she replied. “I have a day job and a night job.”

“What are your jobs?”

“I’m interning at a law firm, helping a paralegal out. I’m hoping to get my private investigator’s license soon.”

“You want to be a private investigator?” he asked.

“I want to be a lawyer,” she answered, “but having a private investigator’s license helps me pick up skills. Research is the true gift of being a good lawyer.”

“Research. You must be very smart and hard working.”

“You are sweet,” she said, resting an elbow onto the counter, leaning forward. “I wish my smarts and hard work were enough to give me success. I’m lacking in luck lately.” His eyes drifted away from the espresso machine and looked into her eyes. She felt her cheeks turn hot, realizing she had overshared. It’d been a sad thought, too. “I feel very lucky right now.”

“Sandy, I don’t mean to make assumptions about people but if I were to guess you are someone with expensive tastes,” he said. He pulled out two small brown glass bottles from a drawer. “But, you settle for less.”

“I..” she breathed out.

She should have been insulted, but her barista BaeJin was right. Sandy had always been envious of people who could afford designer things or had the means to go on extravagant vacations, but all of that had always been a dream. The closest she got was free shit from Hyeon. A drink from PB Cafe was likely three times that of a drink from Starbucks, and Sandy could only afford Starbucks for special occasions.

“Why are you saying this?”

“I want to make you a drink in which you will appreciate,” he replied, pulling out a single stemmed pink rose from under the counter, and handed it to her. She felt her cheeks flush with heat as she accepted it. “Refined, seemingly ostentatious, but simple and hopefully, delicious.”

He poured hot water from a glass kettle into the mug. She felt her cheeks turn hot again as he reached over and plucked a single petal from the rose she held. He tilted a single drop of liquid from one of the brown bottles onto the petal.

“Rose water,” he said to her as he locked eyes with her for a second. He placed the rose petal into the mug, letting it float in the hot water. He poured the espresso into the mug of water, and took a spoon to scoop out the wilted petal, tossing it away before handing the drink to her.

She gave it a sip, and shut her eyes, a smile on her lips. Using a flower as aromatic as a rose was difficult to pull off in cuisine. Oftentimes the rose aroma was too overpowering, reminding one’s nose of perfume instead of food. Baejin’s Rose Americano, though, was the perfect balance of a good cup of coffee elevated with some elegance, refined by the subtlest hint of a rose’s sweet scent. The warm breath she exhaled after a hot sip of Americano filled her senses with flowery comfort.

“This is the most...beautiful cup of coffee I’ve ever tasted,” she replied, setting the mug down when she was half finished. “It tastes...beautiful.”

He gave a small chuckle, his eyes crinkling as he smiled. She bit her bottom lip, trying not to smile any wider than she already was. He was incredibly cute, grinning in reaction to her compliment. How could a man exude the amount of sensuality like BaeJin yet be so cute that she wanted to squish him like a marshmallow?

“You like it?” he asked.

“I do,” she replied. “I didn’t know a cup of Americano could be improved. Thank you for this cup of coffee. You’re a gifted barista.”

“Thank you. I would love to make you another drink.”

“I’ll try to come back one day,” she said earnestly.

She sipped her drink and glanced at her phone. Thanking her talented, handsome (and cute) barista BaeJin one last time, Sandy finished her drink and sprinted out of the odd, surreal cafe. She had to get ready for work. Smelling the pink rose in her hand, Sandy smiled to herself. Who knew her barista would be the first man to give her a rose?

“Diamond! Malibu was accidentally double booked,” Danielle called out into the dressing room. “Can you give a lap dance in the Blue Champagne Room before going home?”

“Wait,” Sandy said, holding the gold hoop earring she’d just taken off her left earlobe, “I’m not going to chase Malibu for the flat fee. The last time I covered for her, not only did her John not tip me but I had to chase her for 4 days before she gave me the cash.”

“I have a hard time chasing her down, too,” Danielle said with a heavy sigh, handing her purple vape pen to Sandy to hold. She dug into her pink and purple Bedazzled fanny pack, and fished out a few bills. She handed a bag of clothing to Sandy. “Let me know if this John is handsy or out of line. He’s a new customer. You have five minutes, babe. Fix your makeup.”

Handing the vape pen back to her boss, Sandy put the cash into her purse before shutting and locking the drawer to her vanity. She put her earring back on and retouched her eye makeup and lipstick. Her locks of hair looked good as she combed her fingers through her hair, looking into the mirror before getting up to change.

Sandy hadn’t exactly planned on becoming a stripper, but during her freshman year in college, she took a class on feminist studies, specifically on sex work. What started out as a learning experience in respecting sex work, and educating herself on the legal struggles of sex workers’ rights, Sandy soon found herself stripping as a means of extra income. She herself was in need of money, and recognized her beauty was valued enough that she could make capital from it.

Having walked out on her dysfunctional family as soon as she turned 18, Sandy had been hustling on her own for years. She was still working towards a career in law, but in the meantime, she was balancing between her day job as an unpaid intern at a shitty law firm and her night job as a stripper at a club called Blue Paradise. Giving lap dances were only nice when she received good tips, but they didn’t happen often enough. All she wanted was a good tip.

Pulling out the outfit Danielle handed to her, she took off her clothes and put on her new outfit. She wore a neon pink G-string bikini bottom with her matching lace bra under a black pencil skirt and a white costume button up office dress shirt. She put on a loose blue tie around her neck, and put on a pair of thick black framed glasses, matching it with her black leather knee high boots. Apparently, this new customer had a librarian kink.

Walking down the hall, toward the other side of the back of the club, she entered the room with the blue door at the end of the hall. The Champagne Rooms, where customers received their private lap dances, were color coded. The Blue Room was where the clients with specific kinks went.

Opening the door, Sandy pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose, and looked up to see her John seated on the black couch. The dim lighting of the room cast a shadow over his body, making it hard for her to make out his face. She blinked, and closed her mouth, realizing that her customer was her barista from PB Cafe, BaeJin. It had been days since she had her cup of Rose Americano.

He was wearing a loosely worn grey sweater with black denim jeans. She didn’t think it was possible but he looked more handsome than she last remembered. Perhaps, with her body so close to his, knowing that he was there for devious reasons, her face flushed and her nipples hardened as heat rushed through her body from head to toe.

“BaeJin!” she said, forgetting her sexy librarian character.

“Don’t move,” he said, looking alarmed. She stood completely still, one hand on the door handle. “You’re a stripper, Sandy?”

“You...you remember me?” He nodded. “Stripping is helping me pay for my law degree.” She licked her lips and tilted her head, pushing her chest forward slightly. “I can give you what you want.”

“I can’t do this,” he replied, crossing his left leg over his right. His eyes left her, and diverted to the ground. Her ego was bruised. Not only did she need the money, but her vanity made her feel upset that he didn’t want a lap dance from her. “I should go.”

“I have to try to keep you here,” she said shyly, pressing her back against the door. “If I don’t, that means I’m not good at my job.”

“How long should we be in here for you to be considered good at your job?” he asked, his eyes returning to meet her gaze.

“You don’t want a lap dance? Am I not cute? My tits too small?”

He gave a chuckle, and looked away when his eyes moved to her chest as she talked.

“You’re very cute,” he replied, “but that’s the problem. As a barista, I don’t date customers. Since you didn’t actually pay for your drink, I thought it’d be OK to ask you out if I ever saw you again. But if I pay for this lap dance, I wouldn’t want to ask you out. It’s not fair for me to proposition you while you’re working.”

“You’ve been thinking hard about me?” Her cheeks felt hot and goosebumps formed on her arms. “Would you accept my invitation if I asked you out after this? I’m actually supposed to be off work by now, but this is my last job tonight. If I don’t give you a lap dance, we didn’t cross any lines, right?”

He nodded, and she gave a nervous chuckle.

“You said that being a barista was your side hustle,” she said, noticing the expensive watch and ring on his left hand. Sex workers had to know street codes to keep themselves safe, and watches and rings were how gang members communicated their loyalties and rankings. “What’s your main job? You said it’s stressful.”

His right hand wrapped around his platinum watch, the case of the watch encrusted with diamonds. The C9 Gang was a wealthy gang with origins in Tokyo, Japan, platinum was their calling card. BaeJin’s gold band emerald ring sat on his middle finger, indicating he was a made man of high rank. Sandy was impressed; BaeJin had acclimated to a high status in a gang at a young age.

“How long have you been working here, Sandy?” he asked in response.

“Diamond,” she answered, her grip remaining firm on the door. “My stage name is Diamond.”

“Sandy...Diamond,” he said with a grin. He stood, and she took a deep inhale of breath as he took a step forward and pressed his body against hers, his left arm wrapping around her waist as his hand gripped onto her wrist. Her hold on the door handle loosened. “You are the diamond in the rough in Blue Paradise. You still want to invite me out on a date?”

She took a gulp of breath, staring deeply into his dark brown eyes. He licked his lips and her eyes drifted to his mouth. Giving the most gentle nod of her head, she said, “Yes.”

“I drive a blue Ferrari F60 America,” he said as the tip of his nose touched hers.

“I don’t know anything about cars,” she replied, shutting her eyes. His breath was warm, making it hard for her to breathe. He chuckled and she felt his head rest onto her shoulder.

She opened her eyes when she felt a hand touch her chin.

“I drive a blue car,” he said, his eyes drifting down her face to her lips. His thumb ran across her bottom lip gently, sending heat deep into her groin. Her stomach ached at the touch. “It’ll be the most expensive looking car you’ll see when you walk outside.” He looked directly into her eyes again. “I’m a dangerous man, Sandy...Diamond. I have to ask you one more time, do you want to keep talking to me?”

She chewed on the inside of her left cheek nervously, and furrowed her eyebrows. Given how close she was to getting the paid job as a paralegal at Johnston’s &Partners, Sandy was one step closer to her dreams of becoming a lawyer. Would it be ethical to date a gangster?

“Will you take me home or will we be going to your place?” she answered. Life was too short not to take risks.

Upon his request, she left work wearing her costume. BaeJin’s description of having the most expensive looking car was accurate. The navy blue car shone brighter than any other car, and the curves of the body created an elegant design to the car. He’d opened the passenger door for her. She realized her skirt barely covered her ass as the cold leather from the seat hit the back of her thighs.

He drove them up a curvy hill to get to his expensive mansion, placed behind a small forest. It sat atop of a mountainous hill, overlooking the bright lights of the city far below. BaeJin was a man of very high rank by the looks of his home. It was large and designed with multiple floor to ceiling windows. Sandy took a soft gulp of air as her mouth felt dry.

“Your home is beautiful,” she said when he led her into his home, the hallway lined with expensively framed paintings. The jade vase that held 3 white lilies beside the coat hanger looked like it was worth more than everything she owned, including the small amount of cash she had in her bank account.

BaeJin’s home aesthetic was minimalist, though each room had a piece of furniture that popped out, like the jade vase in the front entrance. In his bedroom, he had a rose gold encrusted full length mirror sitting at the foot of his bed. It was shameless, but did not surprise her. Their eyes locked as BaeJin sat down at the foot of the bed. Their fingers intertwined when she reached her left hand out to his outstretched right hand.

“I spent a week trying not to think about you,” he said, pulling her easily onto his lap. His free hand wrapped around her waist. “The closest thing to you was trying to get a stripper to dress up like a sexy librarian.”

“Aren’t you lucky?” she said, squeezing his hand. “You went to Blue Paradise wanting a fantasy. Instead, you left with your fantasy.”

His hand released hers and she felt his hand between her legs, sliding up against her slit. Shutting her eyes she gave a soft moan, surprised at his swift movement.

“You deserve the best in life,” he said into her ear before grazing his teeth gently against her neck. “Don’t ever settle for less.”

He kissed her, his lips warm and firm. His tongue parted her lips and she gave a soft hum. She pushed his tongue out of her mouth, appreciating the taste of floral green tea from him. Her fingers tangled into his hair, pulling him closer to her. He tasted better than the beautiful cup of Rose Americano.

With a clouded head, she helped him pull his sweater off as he aggressively pulled her top off of her, the cheap buttons popping loudly as they flew into the air. Her skirt failed to exist when he ripped the zipper and tore the fabric apart with his bare hands.

“Are you going to rip me apart?” she asked breathlessly when his fingers found their way under her bra, fondling her erect nipple. She gave a soft moan and he grinned as he pinched her sensitive bud.

“I’ll be as hard or soft as you want,” he assured her. The pad of his thumb grazed against her nipple. Her back shivered as a sharp heat rode up her back.

“I like a bit of both,” she said, her cheeks hot. It felt like a dream to have BaeJin telling her he would do as she wanted. “You ruined my skirt.”

“The cheap costume skirt?” he asked, his hand returning to rubbing her slit. “You don’t have to settle, remember?” She shut her eyes, her hand grabbing his arm as two of his fingers pressed against her clit. “I like you best without clothes anyway.” The heat intensified as his fingers moved down lower, moistening her panties with the slick heat coming out of her pussy. Her back shook again as his fingers moved up against her slit, and then back down. “Your voice is lovely.”

She moaned as she rested her head against his chest, his fingers continually creating more heat between her legs. One finger slipped under her panties, pulling the fabric away from her wet cunt. The back of his knuckle pressed against the engorged bud of her clit, and she mewled as he rubbed up and down against her.

“BaeBae,” she could only speak with a shaky breath, “BaeBae, I’m going to come.”

Her hips thrust haphazardly against his knuckle as a small flash of heat washed over her, goosebumps forming up the back of her neck. Her orgasm disappeared as soon as it came and she breathed through her mouth. Her pussy felt wet as her slick heat dripped out of her.

“I was just playing with you,” he said with an amused smile, his eyes locked onto the mess between her legs, including his wet fingers. He spread her juices onto her folds, and moved the pads of his index and middle fingers to draw small circles onto her clit. She mewled, shutting her eyes, as her hips rutted against the motions of his fingers. “But with you this wet, I can fuck you right now.”

“BaeBae,” she breathed out, opening her eyes.

Her eyebrows were furrowed as she looked at him. Wordlessly, she stood as their hands began removing each other’s clothes off. His expensive jewelry remained on as he pulled her back to his front, making her stand between his legs. His hand went between her legs and he massaged the inside of her thigh. She hummed a soft moan, enjoying the way his hand relaxed her muscles.

Both of his hands wrapped around her waist, and his lips kissed her neck. He requested she trust him, and one hand reached down to her right knee and had her stretch her leg out to rest over his. As his other hand went to her left knee, she understood what he was doing. He wanted a full view of her pussy so she sat on his lap with her legs hooked over his.

“Ready to put this to use?” he asked, his hands kneading her hips. His reflection from the mirror was staring at her. She saw the cheeks of her flushed face turn a bright red, and she tilted her head down to look away from the mirror. The blood coursing through her chest up to her head clouded her vision. “Look at us.”

His right hand cupped her face, and she felt his wrist press up against the front of her neck. The pulse from his wrist beat rapidly against the pulse on her neck, and she struggled to breathe as her eyes locked onto his from the reflection in the mirror. Hot blood rushed to her groin and her hips jerked forward, out of her control. His left arm wrapped around her waist had her firmly in his hold, so all she could do was wiggle in his lap. Feeling the muscles of his thighs flex under her made her buttocks tighten, her body anticipating his cock.

“If you let me take you raw,” he said softly against her ear, his eyes locked with hers through the reflection of the mirror, “that’ll make you mine.”

His hold on her face was gone as his hand grabbed his cock. He rubbed his hard cock against her slit. She bit her bottom lip as his heat caused more juices to pool out of her cunt. It made her nerves shake, itching her skin in unbearable heat. He blinked, and his eyebrows furrowed as she opened her mouth to breathe loudly.

“I’m yours,” she said clearly. He groaned as he pushed the tip of his cock into her entrance. “Give me everything, BaeJin.” Pleasure blinded her vision as she saw nothing but white and gold flecks of stars. She gave a loud gulp when she felt his hand grip onto her chin again, his wrist pressing against her throat. Her grip on his arms tightened as she held onto him for leverage. His cock pushed in deeper, and the walls of her pussy trembled as heat filled her body in overwhelming waves. “I’m yours.”

His lips were on her neck and when her vision cleared all her eyes could focus was on the way his cock was fucking her pussy. He started with shallow pushes, the rhythm steady as she bounced on his lap. She came and she gave a gentle mewl, blurting out his name as her walls squeezed his cock. A gentle chuckle escaped her lips as she saw him shut his eyes tight.

“You’re so easy to please,” he said as he pushed in deep. She gave a loud groan as he pulled out roughly before pushing in fast, going in balls deep. He started a steady, deep rhythm and she cried as she was filled with undiluted pleasure.

“You fuck so good,” she moaned, her hand reaching back to grab his hair. He sucked on her neck, leaving a red mark before he kissed her shoulder. “BaeJin, fuck me. I’m gonna - I’m - I’m gonna come.”

His grip around her waist tightened as he pushed faster into her, and they bent forward together as he came into her in deep pushes. Her fingers dug into his skin as she shut her eyes, taking in the sensation of his hot seed filling up her insides.

“Come,” he panted out heavily as she felt him withdraw from her. She whimpered as she felt his middle finger push into her come-filled cunt. His thumb rubbed up against her clit, making her nerves dance in hot waves. She cried out a soft orgasm as she came again. She breathed heavily as she rested against his body.

“We barely know each other,” she said after a while. She didn’t know how long they sat together, staring at their reflection before she finally spoke.

“We have the rest of our lives to get to know each other,” he said, running a hand up and down her thigh, sending heat up and down her back. “You are mine now.”

He pulled her off his lap, and they laid in bed together. A shiver went down her back as he kissed her shoulder. They were facing each other, her left leg locked between his muscular thighs.

Giving a laugh, she watched him grab her wrist. He kissed the inside of her wrist before kissing the inside of her elbow. She shut her eyes as she felt his lips on her shoulder. Every kiss sent a vibrating heat under her skin. His mouth sucked on her neck and she grabbed onto the back of his hair as his teeth grazed against her skin. The muscles in her stomach tightened. The world ceased to exist as BaeJin’s embrace consumed her.

#cix smut #cix #baejin imagines #bae jinyoung #bae jinyoung x reader #baejin x reader #cix baejin smut #baebae #cix baejin #bae jinyoung x fem oc #baejin x fem oc #coffee shop au #gangster au #fluff #smut #bae jinyoung smut #no beta read #cixthotshit

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joheun-saram · 4 years ago

Text

“Is your refrigerator running?” (jjk)

Summary- Who knew the annoying prank calls you were receiving would become the favourite part of your day.

word count- 4.2k

pairing- fratboy!Jungkook x Reader

rating- PG-13

genre- fluff, collegeau

warnings- none! just stupid jokes.

a.n- Part of my drabbles for @btsholidaybingo, ticking off the Prank Calls tile! I’ll be posting these every week or so as I get them done. Check out the other drabbles here :)

s/o to the beautiful @heyitsmeee2 for beta reading and helping me fix the ending! 💕

As always feedback appreciated. Send me an ask! 💌

“So how’s your new boyfriend?” Namjoon asked you as you chewed on your fries, almost choking at his insinuition. He laughs at you as he takes a sip of his milkshake, slurping obnoxiously, his eyes widening as he concentrates on the flavour.

“Stop! He’s just a random guy with too much time on his hands! I don’t even know his name! Although...” You stared at your burger, trying to forget what your roommate was alluding to. Two months ago you had started getting phone calls from a stranger. It wasn't something from a horror movie, don't worry. It was harmless. He would call you at random times in the day to ask you silly questions. You don’t know how he even got your number but there was something about his easy going nature and lame jokes that made you want to continue talking to him. Namjoon suspected it was a byproduct of your loneliness, but it was comforting hearing his voice to break through your mundane day to day.

"Hi, is this Y/N?" A deep voice spoke as you picked up the call from an unknown number.

"Yes this is she. Who is this?" You asked as you sat up straighter, your attention diverting from the paper you were writing. You had applied to eight jobs for after graduation and you were sure this was a call for an interview, even though it was 10 pm. Your eyes lit up as you hoped this was the big consulting firm you were waiting to hear from.

"I have a very important question that I was hoping you could help me with."

"Um.. sure go ahead." You fiddled with your pen, scribbling random shapes on your notebook, feeling somewhat nervous. Is this how employers usually talked? Did they do this to build anticipation?

"Is your refrigerator running?"

"I'm sorry what?"

"Is your refrigerator running?"

"Are you calling on behalf of the landlord?" Your voice was flat with disappointment. Surely, this was not an important question. Oh how you wished it was an interview call. You sighed.

"Please answer my question."

"Yes. It's running."

"Then you better go catch it, shouldn't you?"

And with that he hung up and you were baffled. Which decade was this dude from? Who does these lame prank calls anyway and more importantly why does your caller ID not show who it is? Thinking nothing of it, you go about finishing your assignment, albeit slightly aggravated. However, the calls continue. Everyday this stranger would call you with questions, sometimes with a silly punchline but oftentimes even sillier riddles.

"Okay, dude seriously. This is getting annoying." You huffed after a week and a half of receiving calls from the same deep voiced stranger, although you’d be lying if you said his little laugh after he told his jokes was not endearing.

"I'm sorry I didn't mean to annoy you." He seemed hurt and you couldn’t fathom why he would be hurt over a comment a stranger made over his prank calls. In fact, you were sure this was some hobby of his and he had a rotation of strangers to bother.

"Can you at least tell me your name?" You don’t know why you were indulging him, but you had to give him props for constantly calling you. It was kind of becoming part of your daily routine.

"Dixie. My name's Dixie." You could hear the mirth in his tone.

"Dixie? Oh I thought you were a dude, my bad."

"I can be a dude and still have Dixie as my name. Jeez, are you a bigot?" He scolded.

"Sorry, sorry! I didn't mean it that way, Dixie."

"That's Dixie Normus to you." He laughed at his joke, every syllable of his laugh separated as if he was a cartoon character.

"Oh my god. You're the worst!" Regardless of your words, you were laughing. Laughing hard enough to have the banana milk you were drinking to snort out of your nose, making you cough. For a moment, you were glad this stranger wasn't in the room.

"Sorry! Are you okay?" You could hear the humour in his words, shading them in anything but an apology.

And so it went, your mysterious caller, who refused to go by anything other than Dixie turned into a somewhat friend, if you can even call someone who you know no personal details about your friend. After a month the phone calls had turned from cringe worthy puns to actual conversations about your day. You had started to look forward to the unknown flashing on your screen, and sharing the mundane details of your day with Dixie.

In two months you learned a lot more about Dixie. He went to your university, he was an avid gamer, he majored in computer science, and apparently it was now part of his daily routine to call you whenever he was cooling down from his workout on the treadmill - explaining the creepy breathlessness of his voice and beeps in the background. Sometimes you had half a mind to go to the university gym during your calls and see your mysterious friend, but somehow you never found the courage. It was nice not knowing what Dixie looked like, not judging someone by their looks but just by the content of their words. There was no room for disappointment.

It also oddly comforted you that you would never meet him and during your nightly conversations you would end up sharing thoughts that you’d be too uncomfortable sharing with even your best friends. Thoughts about the uncertainty you had over graduating soon, thoughts about being sad over failed relationships, even thoughts about your random existential crisis that would plague you mid week. Dixie was empathetic and had a knack for comforting you with small jokes and his own struggles. You would never admit it to Namjoon, but Dixie was slowly becoming your closest friend, even surpassing him to a certain extent.

"You're insane you know that?" Namjoon chided as you talked about Dixie and how you considered him a friend now. Even though Namjoon was your best friend since first grade, he sometimes didn't understand why you romanticised daily events so much. He never understood why you kept giving Dixie the benefit of the doubt, why you kept picking up his phone calls even when you knew it was going to be a lame joke or two.

"I'm not insane Joon! Haven't you heard of pen pals? This is the same thing but with voice."

"Nah. I think it's your crippling loneliness. Which is why we're going to Jin's frat party tonight." Namjoon was not having any of your excuses. So what if your last relationship was a year ago. You and Yoongi were great together. He was the perfect boyfriend and after he went to LA to pursue his music career, you told him you'd wait. Turns out he wasn't on the same page as you since six months after moving, he called you to break things off. He was right though, it would have been stupid to wait for him when neither of you knew when and even if he was ever coming back. It was unfair to the both of you to keep dragging this thing along. But even if Yoongi hadn't been around the last year and a half, you just couldn't see yourself with anyone else. You still missed talking to him every night and sharing your day, laughing at stupid videos together or just listening to him playing the piano through the static line of your phone. Maybe Namjoon was right. Maybe you were lonely and the only reason you were so attached to Dixie was because of the way his phone calls had replaced Yoongi's and how you no longer waited at the end of your day staring at your phone waiting for your ex's call but instead you received real actual calls from your voice pen pal.

You sighed agreeing with Namjoon and went home, not exactly looking forward to the party and missing Dixie’s call.

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

Jin's frat was notorious for the wildest parties on campus. It was always a cacophony of drunk students and a pit of hedonism. When Namjoon and you arrived, the party was in full swing and you thanked your best friend for having the foresight of pre-drinking. The bottle of grapefruit soju you had emptied earlier at your shared apartment ensured that you were not put off by the plethora of drunk guys trying to hit on you microseconds after you entered.

Looking for Jin and let's be honest, a little gin as well, you and Namjoon made your way to the kitchen, to be greeted by your tall friend doing a keg stand. Beer dripped down his chin as his fraternity brothers held him up, his feet almost touching the ceiling. As you poured yourself a gin and tonic, Jin climbed down from the keg to a chorus of applause. Much to your chagrin, he walked over, draping his arms around your shoulders and plastering your back with his beer soaked chest.

"Ew get off me you vermin!" You squealed, shivering in the gross feeling, your backless top doing nothing to shield you from your friend’s shirt as he refused to budge.

"Vermin? VERMIN?! I invite you to my house, give you free drinks, and an array of decent dicks to pick from and I'm the vermin?" Jin finally detaches, giving you a scowl as he leans against the kitchen island, pouring himself what you gather is his tenth drink of the night.

"Jin all of these guys are as gross as you. And I've told you I don't need to get laid!"

"Sure tell that to your vibrator working overtime."

"How did you even - " you sputered, eyes wide with disbelief.

"Namjoon, obviously. And before you kill him, there are no secrets between friends and part-time lovers." He winked, making you roll your eyes. Namjoon and Jin had been on and off since the beginning of freshmen year, neither the type for commitment but to your dismay loved to tell you all about their rollercoaster of a relationship. You swear you could write a thesis on dysfunctional relationships using theirs as a case study.

"Ew. Please stop. I don't need to know about you and Joon getting it on."

"Well then let me introduce you to someone so you can get it on." He wiggled his eyebrows puckering his lips to annoy you.

"I know all your brothers Jin and no thank you." You lightly slapped his lips making him groan as he grabbed your wrist continuing his tirade. You’d be lying if you said his frat brothers had never caught your eye - they were famous for their astoundingly good looks, in fact there even seemed to be an instagram page dedicated to people randomly spotting them on campus (@betatauinthewild). However, their good looks did not make up for the fact that they were a bunch of loud fuckboys. You loved Jin and Namjoon and would literally stab anyone who said anything against them but you had to agree that they were the biggest players of the group, finding a new person to bed almost every weekend. That is, unless they were with each other - case and point their dysfunctional relationship.

"Well we have a new brother and he's my little brother. He's a sophomore, he just joined, and he's your type. The whole quiet but nice guy type." Jin continued, ignoring you in typical fashion.

"I don't have a type."

"Please! As if Yoongi wasn’t a cookie cutter tsundere. Come on let me introduce you to him!" He grabbed your shoulder and pleaded, pouting and widening his eyes in the most adorable puppy dog face you had seen him pull.

"Can we not talk about Yoongi please." You sighed. You finished your drink and proceeded to pour another one.

"Yes! Let's talk about JK!"

"Jin... come on. Let's just drink okay?"

"Fine but I'm telling you, you'll get along. He's a great guy."

An hour into the party, you had lost both Jin and Namjoon and were getting tired of Jin’s exceedingly drunk frat brothers trying their pick up lines of the day on you. Your head was hurting from the noise of the party and you were sure if you saw another couple subtly trying to test their exhibitionism kink you were going to puke. So as it was typical for whenever you went to these parties, you started to make your way to Jin’s room. Jin may be loud and obnoxious and being lusted after by pretty much the entire campus, but he was reliable for one thing: he never fucked where he slept. And so his room became a sort of sanctuary for you when these parties would get too much.

You made your way up the stairs almost tripping over two guys who had decided that making out horizontally on the stairs was a good idea - you did not envy how busted their backs would be tomorrow. Punching in the code you walked in to find that there was already someone there, reclined on the bed with his arms behind his head, earphones in, humming gently as he stared at the ceiling. You had never seen him before, but boy did you wish you did. His dark hair was splayed over the pillows, a smile ghosting his full lips. He was dressed in all black, much like you but unlike your lace bodysuit and skinny jeans, he was wearing a boxy back t shirt with ripped jeans, his feet in those questionable toe socks. And he was buff, even though his body was mostly covered you could make out the muscle in his arms, one of which had intricate tattoos etched on to. You’re unaware how long you stared at this stranger, but suddenly he turns his face looking at you. Seeing you there he immediately jumps up, pulling his earphones out, startling you in turn.

“I- I’m sorry. Y-you can’t be h-here,” he stutters out, a soft blush rising up his cheeks as he nervously pulls at his ear.

“I should be saying that to you. Why are you in Jin’s room?” You shut the door, leaning on it, feeling oddly territorial.

“I- Hyung needed my room.” You found the stuttering boy in front of you endearing. Something about how he bashfully stared at anything but you while speaking made you want to hug him.

“Oh my god! You let him into your room? Drunk during a party?” You almost scream, but lower your voice seeing the alarm on his face. Walking over, you sat next to him, a few feet away so as not to make him uncomfortable. “Do you like doing laundry or something?” you joked.

Hearing your question the boy perks up, looking at you with a bright smile that made your heart skip a beat. “I do actually! How did you know?” he asks excitedly. You almost felt bad bursting his bubble.

“I didn’t… It’s just - you know Jin’s probably having sex in there right?” You look at the abject horror on his face in sympathy, so you try to change the subject. “Nevermind. Why are you hiding in here?”

“I’m not hiding. I just got bored. Everyone there just wants to hook up or get blackout drunk.”

“You do realise which frat you’re part of right?”

“I know,” he chuckles, seemingly more relaxed as he lays down on the bed, his feet still on the floor. “I honestly didn’t even wanna join but I’m a legacy so my dad really wanted me to be a part of it, Beta Tau pride and all.”

“Not to be a bitch, but dude you sound like a protagonist of a shitty college romcom,” you laugh looking down at him as he smiles, crossing your legs on the bed as you turn towards him, forcing yourself to ignore how cute he looks from this angle.

“You think you’re being a bitch, but that's a great compliment. I wish my life was a romcom. It’d be so easy…”

“Okay, emo. What’s wrong?”

“You’re going to think it’s dumb.”

“Hey I don’t even know your name! What have you got to lose?”

“Fine. There’s this girl I like and we always call each other… Well I call her.... at this time, but she didn’t pick up. So yes I’m emo, and yes I wish I was in a romcom so I’d go downstairs and randomly run into her.” He looks at you with a sad smile, shrugging slightly, and you feel yourself deflate. Not that you were interested in him or anything. You were sure it was just the alcohol in your system making you feel extra empathetic. Yup that’s it.

“Hey, that’s not stupid,” you say gently. “What if she’s down there did you check?”

“Well… I don’t actually know what she looks like… So, no…”

“Oh then maybe you should call her again! What if she was busy?”

“I don’t wanna be pushy, you know? I’m not even sure she thinks of me the same-”

“YO DIXIE! You in there?” A loud knock booms through the room accompanied by a deep voice. The attractive stranger next to you rolls his eyes before standing up, and at hearing his nickname you feel your heart kickstart, racing as you blink in disbelief. It can’t be…

“Dixie?” you stutter out.

“What’s up dude?” He opens the doors talking to Taehyung, one of the other Beta Tau brothers, as they start talking about something. You can barely hear their conversation, your brain full of scenarios and questions, your face crimson. You never thought you’d meet Dixie in real life. Do you tell him? Do you just run away? Why did he have to be so hot?!

Taehyung notices you on the bed for the first time and in typical fashion starts hollering and high-fiving Dixie. “Damn dude! The president’s best friend! Good for you!” He snickered as Dixie looked at him with his mouth agape, before turning to you. “Ay Y/N. Treat our boy JK well okay? He’s too nice for you!”

“Fuck off hyung!” JK, apparently that’s his name, shoves Taehyung as he grins widely before wiggling his eyebrows suggestively and shutting the door, seemingly getting all that he came for.

“You’re Dixie…?” You stare up at him, standing up as you try to control the overwhelming urge to wrap your hands around him. Fuck, maybe Joon was right you did have a crush on your voice pen pal.

“I- Y/N?” He looks at you, mirroring your wide eyes. “The same Y/N I’ve been talking to?”

“Call me,” you almost whisper.

“What?”

“Call me so I know it’s real.” You move closer holding your phone up as he pulls his out of his pocket to dial your number. Your phone rings, displaying a set of numbers instead of unknown for the first time, and the two of you just stare at the vibrating device in your hand. It seems like time stood still, the air thick with tension as your shitty ringtone bounces off the walls. That is until you start laughing. Not giggling, full on laughing, holding your stomach as tears spill down your face, as JK looks at you in alarm, his arms hovering near you as you double over.

“Holy shit! You are the protagonist of a romcom!” You finally wheeze out as you hold his arm for support, while he looks at you with a frown. You’re unsure why this was your reaction, but you recover quickly to start your interrogation.

“So what’s your name Dixie or JK?”

“Jungkook, actually. Dixie’s my gamertag and JK is just what Jin hyung calls me.”

“How did you get my number?”

“Umm… I might have stolen it from hyung’s phone…”

“Why?”

“Because he prank called my friends first.” He spoke with a pout, and you swear your heart forgot to function.

“Why keep calling?”

“Really Y/N? You’re gonna interrogate me?” He raised an eyebrow at you.

“Keep talking Dixie!” You chuckled as his shy demeanor gave way to the Dixie, well the Jungkook, you knew. It was weird how fast the earlier awkwardness dissipated into comfort.

“What? I thought you sounded pretty! Sue me!” He shrugged, leaning back against the door, his hands in his pocket. Your eyes followed the movement, momentarily distracted by how his forearms flexed. Clearing your throat, you continued as he smirked, not missing the way your eyes seemed to be roaming his body.

“You said you were trying to call the girl you like. So you like me?” You try to sound as matter of fact as you could, but your voice wavered slightly at the last part as you made the mistake of looking at his face. He tilted his head, causing his hair to fall into his eyes that were boring holes into you, his smirk getting larger. Oh how you wished he turned back into the boy talking about how much he liked laundry.

“I thought it was obvious. I call you every night.” He stood straight, taking a step towards you causing heat to creep up your face at his sudden confidence. You don’t respond as he moves closer, causing his steps to falter. “Do you like me?” he asks, his voice a little smaller. You’re getting whiplash from the changes in his tone, but his question makes you feel warm. You haven’t felt this way in a long time, there’s butterflies in your stomach, your hands feel clammy, and you’re sure you can feel the heat off his body, so aware of where he stands merely inches away from you.

“I think so…” you move closer and he raises his hand as if to hold your hip but stops, hovering just centimeters away as looks at you, his gaze smouldering.

“What’ll make you sure of it?” he asks in a whisper, and before you can even comprehend the question, you are leaning up on your toes to press a light kiss against his lips. His lips are slightly chapped and you’re sure he can feel your heartbeat through them. Your skin tingles where he brings his hand on your hip, gently holding you. He doesn’t push you further, just leans his forehead on yours when you separate to whisper quietly, “This.”

“And?” His nose brushes against yours as you place your hand on his chest, his pounding heart mimicking yours. He slowly rubs his hands on your hips where they lay, and it’s like your skin is electrified.

“I’m sure,” you say as he crashes his lips on yours, pulling you closer as your arms snake around his neck. His reaction is much stronger this time as he moves his lips against yours feverently. He pulls you flush against him, your body molding against his hard muscles. His hands grip at your hips as he licks lightly at your lip, groaning as they part. It seems like he can’t decide what to do with his hands, roaming them over your sides, relishing the little moan you make as one of them cups your ass. His earlier shyness disappears, and who are you to resist him, as your hands in his hair pull him closer. It’s like everything finally makes sense, why you could never ignore his calls, why your heart raced whenever you heard him call your name through the static of your speaker. You had spent this whole time convincing yourself that he was just a stranger you could vent to when it was clear to you now that you were falling for him.

He whispers your name as you break apart, but his mouth continues down your jaw to your neck, kissing and sucking at the skin. His teeth drag across your collarbone, and you whimper at the way he soothes it with his tongue as you press your body even closer into his.

“Hey Y/N! Joon’s looking for you!”

The two of you break apart at the interruption, chest heaving and faces flushed. Looking up at Jungkook, you smile as he looks away shyly, his lip caught between his teeth, before turning to your best friend who is excitedly hopping in the doorway.

“I knew you would get along with JK!” Jin exclaims as you look once again at Jungkook before you both break out in a laugh. Trust Jin to know who you’d fall for before you. He comes up to pat his frat brother on the shoulder before his proud smile turns into a glare, warning the two of you that his room was for sleeping only and abruptly kicking you out.

The two of you giggle as you make your way downstairs, unable to keep your hands off of each other, going from holding hands to hugging to sneaking kisses in the kitchen as you make your drinks. Before the night ends the two of you end up sitting in the backyard, kissing under the stars and planning your first date later that week, even though it felt like you had known each other an eternity.

You had never felt luckier to pick up a random phone call.

#bts fic #bts fanfiction #jungkook fluff #jungkook smut #btsholidaybingo #thebtswritersclub #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #jungkook x yn

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jaceyneedsabetterusername · 4 years ago

Text

Hayloft (p.2)

Pairing: Arvin Russell x F!Reader

Summary: Your dad brings home his new coworker, Arvin Russell, telling you that he’ll be living with the two of you for a while. While attempting to keep Arvin from seeing the disfunction of your relationship with your father, the two of you grow closer than you thought. (Inspired by “Hayloft” by Mother Mother, though that’ll really only be one chapter later on so I don’t know if it really counts…)

Warnings: Abuse, drunkenness, misogyny, reader’s mother is dead, decapitating a chicken, reader is kind of emotional in this chapter

Word Count: 4.2k

A/N: My first slow(er) burn fic! Let me know what you think!

Part 1

_____________________

Work had passed fairly quickly as it always did when you had the opening shift. It sure sucked having to arrive at five o’clock in the morning but at least you got off earlier and you knew that that way you could grab groceries before your father got home and could yell at you about an empty kitchen again. By two o’clock in the afternoon, you were home again, hopping out of your truck and grabbing as many bags as you could in one go.

The loud sound of metal slamming against metal shook you and you flinched, looking between your door and the frame to see Arvin walking out towards you. It hadn’t occurred to you that his car was even in your driveway. After so many years of having busted broken down old cars sitting there that your dad had been swearing he’d fix for almost ten years, cars in the driveway seemed normal. “Let me give you a hand,” he offered as he got closer, lifting the canvas bags from your hands before you could object.

“Oh!” You exclaimed as you felt the weight suddenly taken off your own arms, “Thank you.” You dove back into the truck to grab the last two bags before slamming it shut with your hips. The two of you began your stroll towards the front door, the dirt driveway kicking up around your feet. “You’re back early.” You noted, looking over at Arvin.

He shrugged, “Yeah, uh, Wallace had me on the early shift today.”

You fumbled with the bags as you tried to unlock the door, kicking it open with your toes when it finally gave in. You walked into your home and Arvin followed, closing the door behind him. “Been here long? I didn’t see you in the driveway.”

“Not too long. I just didn’t want to let myself into your home without nobody there.” Arvin set the bags on the counter next to where you set yours.

You began to unpack the bags and put the groceries in the respective places. Arvin watched off to the side, unsure of how your kitchen was organized so he was worried he’d do more than good if he stepped in. “My daddy got the late shift?”

Arvin shook his head, noticing that his beat up old hat was still on his head despite being indoors and took it off immediately, his tousled brown curls parting messily down the middle. “No, we went in at the same time. He ‘n some buddies said they was goin’ to some bar in town.”

He watched your shoulders fall a little and you sighed, “Figures…. You didn’t go?”

Again, Arvin shook his head, “No. No offense to your daddy but I don’t like to drink the way I get the feelin’ he does.”

You snorted, turning to him with a knowing chuckle, “Let’s just say that I’m sorry in advance for whatever he says or does when he gets home, if he gets home. Sheriff Pike might end up callin’ in the mornin’ tellin’ us to pick him up.” Though it was stated as a joke, Arvin could hear the tragic reality behind your words.

Arvin then noticed the pack of beer bottles that you were pulling out of the bag. As if you could feel his eyes looking at you with worried curiosity, you glanced over at him, noticing the way his eyes flicked between you and the beer in your hands. You offered a sad shrug, “I know what you’re thinkin’ but trust me. Sometimes it’s better to have him drunk and possibly content than sober and angry there’s nothing to drink. Besides, the beer is better than the hard stuff with ‘im.”

“‘M sorry. I didn’t mean to be makin’ faces. Your business is your business,” Arvin backpedalled, giving you an apologetic nod.

You shook your head, “Don’t worry. I know how it looks. I’m sorry you gotta see all of it. I been tryin’ to keep to keep him calm but if you end up stayin’ a while, I’m sure you’ll get to see him at his worse times.”

Arvin chewed his lip as he contemplated whether or not to bring up what had been going through his mind but he had to make sure you were alright. “I-I heard you ‘n your dad talkin’ last night… right after you left my room.”

Your face fell as you realized what he was talking about, “You weren’t s’posed to hear that. I’m sorry.” Shit, this was what you were hoping to avoid.

“Are you alright?”

Gentle. Caring. His tone was something that had been long lost to you in this house and it took the words out of your mouth for a moment. It was embarrassing, the way your heart welled up with… well love wasn’t quite the right word but the warmth of being cared about. Not since after your mother had passed had you heard somebody actually care about how you felt.

You just nodded and gave a forced smile that you could tell was easy to see through but it was the best you could muster. For someone who was able to take so much shit from their father and was able to look the man who would throw things at you and grab you by the hair dead in the eye with nothing but contempt, it was compassion that made you crumble. It had been so unexpected, especially from Arvin, the stranger living in your house.

“Shit, ‘m sorry! I didn’t mean to - I didn’t mean to overstep. I only…” He stammered over his words and at first you were confused until you felt the single hot tear tracing its way down your cheek.

You were quick to wipe it away, shocked at your own uncharacteristic show of vulnerability. You hadn’t realized until now that you had zoned out on the ground while Arvin’s words repeated in your head but now a flash of embarrassment ran through you. “No, no, no. I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” You sniffled once before giving a small laugh of disbelief. “It’s just… It’s been a long time since anybody asked that.”

You straightened up and ran your hands through your hair, eyes closed as you thought of what else you needed to do. Thankfully, if your dad was at the bar, you had at least another four hours to just you and Arvin, all night if you were lucky, though you seldom were. That was when the feeling of dread set in. Your dad had requested chicken roast for dinner tonight and whether he came home early and only a few beers in or you had to drive him home hungover in the morning, the man would be furious if there weren’t at least reheated leftovers for him. You had to kill Patty and prep her for dinner.

“You okay?” Arvin asked again, though this time it was in reference to the way a heavy look fell over your features. It wasn’t a profound deep question like it was earlier.

Your head wavered from side to side and your lips twisted, “My daddy asked for chicken roast tonight. I gotta go out and fix Patty up.” You tried to put it lightly though it felt anything but. “I’ll be out in the coop. You’re more than welcome to clean up in the shower or do whatever you’d like ‘round the house. The radio is in the livin’ room if you wanna tune into somethin’.”

You pushed yourself off the counter and walked to the door in your kitchen that led out to the backyard but Arvin made a few steps to follow, “Is it alright if I keep you company? It don’t feel right bein’ in your house without you or your daddy here.”

You smiled at the thought of him staying with you and you nodded, continuing out the door, “Sure, c’mon.”

The hen house wasn’t very far from the back door. From there, you could see the several acres of land that your father was wasting. Your grandparents had bought this land in the late 1910’s and had started up a little farm of their own to sell locally, though your father had abandoned the farming portion after they died. It was where your daddy had grown up and then where you had as well. God, how you missed your grandparents. Your grandmother’s soft words of love and kindness but sternness and willingness to swat your butt with a wooden spoon if you got an attitude (though she would yell at your father if he ever tried to discipline you - “Now you leave that poor baby alone!”). Your grandfather had looked like a rough and angry old man from years of hard work but he had the softest heart of anyone you’d ever met. How the two of them had raised your father was beyond you.

When you approached the wired fence and jiggled the lock open, the chickens inside stood surprisingly still. They trusted you. You could see it in their little brown eyes. You were safe and warm and didn’t want to harm them. You came in for the unfertilized eggs they laid and left, oftentimes with some seed and a soft pat or two on the head. Patty, a fat white hen with black specks, walked comfortably around your feet, nuzzling her head against your leg. She was the nicest hen you’d ever had. She trusted you.

God, you were about to cry again. You bent down to pick her up and you held her against your chest, trying to look her in the eye, though it was difficult when she kept jerking it in different directions. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am,” you murmured low. Usually it was your father that would slaughter the hens if he really wanted the meat that badly. You had never done it yourself but he’d made you watch every time so that you knew how if the time ever came. Each time it made you sick to your stomach.

Already, you felt green. The unassuming hen that you had been friendly enough to for her not flip out when you held her was none the wiser that her life was about to end by your hand. You glanced over to the large wood round just ahead and the axe that was leaned up against it.

Your face contorted as you realized how much you disliked the placement. The way your father would slaughter chickens right in front of their friends made your heart break. It was barbaric.

You walked over to Arvin and held Patty out towards him, “Would you mind holdin’ onto her for a second?”

Though visibly confused, he took the chicken from your hands, drawing back when her wings fluttered out at the contact with the new strange man. Arvin watched as you walked towards the large round and tried to push it with all your might. “What’re you doin’?”

“I’m-” you grunted, feeling it slide slowly, inch by inch, “trying to move it where the other chickens can’t see.” You took another moment to use all your force against it before standing up straight and breathing heavily, “I know it sounds dumb cause they’re only chickens but it feels cruel to make ‘em watch, y’know?” You went back to pushing the round and Arvin approached behind you.

From here he could see the blood stains in the wood. It looked as if the blood had been washed off but the wood had been stained crimson regardless. There was also a divot where an axe had clearly been driven down many times over the years, chipping away at the wood.

Arvin’s heart actually warmed a little at your attempt to show mercy and your willingness to go out of your way to spare some chickens’ feelings. It wasn’t something he was sure he’d do himself but when he heard you say it, he realized you had a point. It was cruel to imprison a bunch of animals and then lead them out one by one to be slaughtered in front of everyone, each animal waiting their turn. “Here, take ‘er back. Let me.” Arvin stepped in, handing Patty back over to you and bending down to lift the round onto its side with much effort. The wood had to weigh at least a hundred pounds and had long since settled into the ground where it had been placed when you were a child.

Your eyes widened as you watched his biceps bulge, straining the material of his blue t-shirt. You’d never seen a man with muscles like that before and you found your eyes trailing along his arms, following every popping vein from the tops of his hands, up his forearms, and onto his biceps until they disappeared beneath his shirt. It was something you hadn’t expected to see in him. Arvin looked like a quiet, polite, hardworking young man but you never would have imagined the immaculate muscles he possessed. You found your mind wandering to what other surprises laid in store beneath all those layers he wo-

You needed to calm yourself down. If only he could hear your thoughts, he surely would be furious and disgusted with you. You hadn’t had such impure thoughts since that one time you had been messing around with Jimmy Bates in the backseat of his old car back in your senior year of high school. The two of you didn’t even go all the way but you went far enough and the guilt ate you alive since the two of you were never officially together anyways. He was just the cute boy from high school that you had pined over years that had finally given you the chance right before he shipped off to join the war.

“This alright?” Arvin asked, shaking you from your fantasy, and you snapped back into reality to realize he had rolled the wood round around the side of the coop behind the wooden wall, outside of the other chickens’ views.

You nodded and walked over to him, “That’s perfect. Thank you so much for doin’ that. I know it’s sorta stupid.”

Arvin shook his head, putting his hands on his hips, “If it means somethin’ to you, it ain’t stupid at all. Besides, now that you pointed it out, it was a little barbaric.”

You smiled up at him, one which he returned. How was this boy so damn nice? Was this some cosmic way of the universe finally giving you something good in your life? You’d become so calloused to your father’s harsh words and barked commands that you had forgotten how nice it was to feel cared about and validated. And you barely knew him.

“‘M glad you think so.” You looked down at Patty in your arms and any good feelings you’d had melted to sadness and fear. “You been a good girl, Patty. I know you struggled with layin’ eggs for a while but you were always a good girl. Never bit me once unlike some of them other hens.” You weren’t often very soft and vulnerable but you were about to take something’s life for the first time and you couldn’t help but feel the weight of that on your heart. If this were a life or death situation, you would feel better about it, but it wasn’t. The only reason Patty had to die was because your father would throw a fit if she didn’t.

You carried her to the log and gave her a little kiss on the top of the head, “Please don’t hate me but I understand if you do. Say hi to my momma for me, will you? Tell her I love and miss her.” You set her down and got her in the position you always saw your dad put the other chickens in before he chopped their heads off. Arvin handed you the axe with uncertainty but watched on as you struggled to bring yourself to finish the deed.

You held her down and you could tell by the way she was flailing that she was panicking now. Patty was well aware of what was happening. “I’m sorry!” You choked, tears welling up in your eyes as her panic began to turn into your own panic. How did people do this? Why was this so freaking difficult?

Tossing the axe slightly in your hand, you readjusted the handle and just as you went to swing, Arvin piped up, “I can do it.”

You looked over at him, the afternoon sun reflecting the tears in your eyes and making the color of your irises stand out in tragic beauty. “I-I- Would you really not mind?” You breathed out in relief.

Arvin stepped forward and you handed the axe out to him, “I don’t mind.” You held onto Patty until Arvin could position her just right as well. He had no idea what he was doing - he’d never had to slaughter a chicken before. He had heard that all you had to do was cut their head off though and then he’d heard the rumors of them running around like crazy even after their head hit the ground. How hard could it be?

Once he had the hen pinned down where he wanted her, he looked up to see you chewing on your thumb, brows knitted in discomfort. It wasn’t the first chicken you’d watched get slaughtered but it was far from something you enjoyed observing. Arvin signaled to you with a nod before raising the axe above his head and you shut your eyes tight, flinching at the sound of the old metal head thudding into the old wood.

You had the carcass sitting in the sink while you pulled off the blood soaked feathers, depositing them into the trash bin by the handful. This part was easier for you, something you’d done many times in the past. “Thank you for doin’ that. I’m sorry I’m such a baby.”

Arvin sat at the kitchen table behind you, “You ain’t a baby just cause you don’t like to kill things. I’d say it’s probably rather normal.”

The time was inching closer to four o’clock now and the sun was beginning to hang ever so slightly lower in the sky, the precursor to sunset. It was warm outside and a cool spring breeze blew in through the open window above the sink. You snickered as you pulled another handful of feathers out, “Yeah? That mean you ain’t normal?” You looked over at him with a playful glint in your eye but your smile fell when you saw an uncomfortable look cross his face, almost like he’d seen a ghost.

“I ain’t never said I liked killin’ either.” Arvin attempted to match your joking tone but it was pretty evident there was a weight behind his words.

“Hey, I‘m sorry. I was only jokin’.” A pang of guilt washed over you but it was only that. A joke. You hadn’t imagined teasing him over something like killing a chicken would set him off, especially since he volunteered to do it for you, but apparently you were wrong.

Arvin sniffed and scratched his nose, “I know.” After a moment of awkward silence, he stood, “Let me give you a hand. What do you need done?”

You scanned his face once more to make sure he was really okay but you decided to drop it when you saw his insistent look. You shook your head, “I got it. It ain’t much after I get this all gutted and cleaned.” You picked up the mostly featherless carcass by the wings and plopped it back down into the sink.

“Well ‘m sure there’s vegetables or somethin’ else that goes with it, right? Let me start cuttin’ those up.” His persistence was adorable, making your heart flutter in the most wonderful way. The idea of a man actually being helpful was unknown to you before Arvin. Your life had been filled with your dad’s drunken bossings since you were twelve years old. You couldn’t remember the last time a genuinely kind voice offered you anything more than a smile on the street, not that you took that for granted. Arvin was just different though. Noble and helpful and kind.

“You really don’t have to-”

“Yeah, you keep sayin’ that but I really do want to help. So what can I do to make things easier on you?” He took a few steps closer to you until you felt the beginning of what could have been sparks if he stepped any nearer, like when you hold two magnets a few inches apart and you can feel the energy between them, that hint of attraction, but it’s not quite close enough to pull them together.

The blush in your cheeks at his simple gesture made you break the eye contact with a nervous laugh of retreat, “Okay, fine. If you’re gonna be so insistent,” you drew out with a teasing drawl, “you can cut up veggies. There’s potatoes over there and carrots and zucchini in the fridge.”

Arvin’s lips turned up in a small smile when you finally resigned your stubborn ways and he went off to find the vegetables where you had directed him.

Needless to say, when your father came home from the bar to find you and Arvin talking over a song by the Platters playing on the radio with Arvin cleaning up the dishes while you tossed together the vegetables and the seasoning, he was less than pleased.

“What the hell is going on here?” His slurred speech made your eyes widen in fear. He was supposed to get home later like he always did. But then you found yourself chiding your irresponsibility. Why the hell would you take that chance? You knew better than to let Arvin help out and now you were gonna pay.

Arvin sensed the way you tensed up beside him and watched as you spun around to face your father with haste, “Just finishin’ up dinner now. Should be ready by six so you got more than enough time to take a sho-”

“Why the fuck is he doin’ the dishes?” You father was leaning against the wall, clearly relying on the structure for support. This wasn’t the time to test him, not with Arvin here. It was times like this when he’d start throwing stuff at you.

Before you could say anything, Arvin piped up firmly but respectfully, “I offered, sir. It’s no problem at all.”

Your dad pointed at Arvin, “A man ain’t got no place with his hands in a sink of dishes. You leave that shit to her and she’ll just grab you a beer.” He stumbled over his own feet before catching himself ungracefully.

Arvin’s jaw set tightly and you gripped the countertop with white knuckles behind you. Times like this, you weren’t even sure what to say anymore. No amount of standing up for yourself got you anywhere with him. You never made any headway with your dad’s sexist views on gender roles. It was pointless. The only thing to do was try and work your way to supporting yourself so you could get the hell out of dodge and never look back.

Arvin’s voice surprised you, “A man’s place is helpin’ out the women in his life when they need, not leavin’ ‘em to do all the housework themselves.” You nearly choked on your own tongue at his words. It was a bold statement for a man to make, especially to the head of the house that was being so gracious as to host him free of charge, but he didn’t back down. It appeared like the jab was lost on your drunken father but Arvin continued with a slightly less accusatory comment to diffuse the situation regardless, “I grew up helpin’ my grandma with all the house chores so I really don’t mind at all.”

You watched the way your dad eyed Arvin and then you before scoffing and grumbling incoherently as he shuffled his way into the living room. You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. “I don’t want you gettin’ kicked out ‘cause of me. You didn’t have to say nothin’.”

Arvin glared at where your father had disappeared and nodded, “Yeah, I did. You don’t deserve all the shit he gives you.”

You suddenly found yourself avoiding his eyes and twisting your lips. He was right and you were well aware of that fact. The abuse your dad put you through was uncalled for at best. The fact that Arvin had actually taken the time to not only notice the same fact but acknowledge it and stand up for you was something you never thought you’d hear someone do. It made you uncomfortable. You’d been fighting this battle by yourself for so long that letting somebody even know it was being waged was enough to make you want to sink away. Even so, a part of you wanted to let Arvin keep standing up for you. It made you feel weak after having to stand up for yourself for so long but also validated.

Your eyes flicked up to meet his for only a moment before turning back towards dinner that sat in a roasting pan on the stove, “Thank you.”

______

Taglist:

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#arvin russel imagine #arvin russell x you #Arvin Russell #arvin rus #arvin russell x reader #arvin russel #arvin russel x reader #arvin russel x y/n #tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland one shot #The Devil All The Time #tdatt #tdatt imagine #tdatt fics #Hayloft

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90363462 · 2 years ago

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Not Feeling Present During Sex? The Reason Is More Common Than You Think

Feeling pleasure requires surrender.

Portia Brown

Feb. 18, 2022 05:38PM EST

“My stomach looks huge in this position.”

“Did I remember to take the trash out?”

“I forgot to call that client back. Shit!”

“He doesn't look like he’s enjoying this at all.”

“This doesn’t feel good. Is something wrong with me?”

“Why am I taking so long to ‘finish’?”

At some point or another, I’ve had these thoughts during sex. If you’ve ever battled distracting thoughts when you’re supposed to be enjoying sex, you are not alone! We are thinking about everything from our cellulite to whatever random noise is happening in the background.

This phenomenon is known in the world of psychology as “spectatoring.” Essentially, we are “watching” ourselves engage in sex and pleasure, while also having an anxious dialogue about everything that is or isn’t happening.

And I know what you’re thinking, “The sex can’t be that good if you’re so distracted, sis!” But spectatoring can happen even with the most skilled and attentive partners.

But why? How?

We Don’t Live Mindful Lives

All day long, our minds are going a mile a minute. We are constantly toggling between Zoom meetings and laundry, to social media and social engagements, to lengthy daily to-do lists, and back again. This creates a “busy brain” which is not good for sex! The busy brain life we live is hard to shut off once we hit the sheets. We all spend a lot of time in our heads and we rarely connect with our bodies.

Tell me if you’ve ever been driving home from work, only to arrive at your destination with no memory of how you got there. Your body may be on autopilot while your brain is off doing other things. This happens in a lot of other scenarios. Fast forward to when I actually settle down to self-pleasure or have sex with a partner, it’s hard to trigger the mind to suddenly be reconnected with the body and focus on the sensations that are happening.

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Trauma

Not all trauma that I’m speaking about is sexual traumabut a good portion of it is. If you are someone who has had some level of sexual violence happen to them, it can show up in your consensual sexual situations. This can cause you to go into a protective mode and disassociate or not feel present during the act.

Our brains are very complex, but they are also really good at trying to protect us from harm. If you are someone who has experienced harm, it’s not uncommon for you to experience disassociation, or feeling disconnected from your body.

Being Performative

Orgasms aren’t the only things people fake in bed. We fake moans, body language, and facial expressions. It isn’t always because we aren’t into the sex we are having. Instead, it's because we have a particular image in mind of what pleasure looks like. So we try to perform pleasure for our partner. And if you’re performing, there's no way to be truly in tune with your body!

Oftentimes that means not giving our bodies enough time to really warm up before sex or self-pleasure. So then we spent a lot of time in our head trying to perform! This leads to us wondering why we are taking so long to orgasm, or why we don’t feel pleasure in a deep and authentic way.

Regardless of what the cause is, I’m sure the question on your mind is, “What the hell can I do to fix it?”

Sexual Mindfulness: 4 Ways To Be More Relaxed & More Present During Sex

1. Turn to your breath.

Our breath is powerful! Deep breathing is the most underrated sex tip out there. You wanna feel more focused? Breathe deeply! You wanna experience more pleasure? Breathe deeply! Do you want to feel more present? Breathe deeply! There is a reason people pay good money to sit in silent meditation. There is a lot to be gained from intentional breathwork.

During sex we often find ourselves tensing up or even holding our breath without realizing it. And while some tension is necessary for orgasm, our bodies need to have a balance of relaxation to allow proper blood flow. The next time you find yourself feeling distracted or busy brain during sex, try taking a few deep, slow breaths into your diaphragm to help you feel more present and more relaxed.

2. Focus on your senses.

Get out of your head and into your body! In order to fully access pleasure, we need to focus on grounding ourselves in our own bodies. If you find yourself wandering off during sex, try this grounding exercise: Think of one thing you can see, one thing you smell, one thing you feel, one thing you hear, and one thing you taste to help ground you. Our five senses are an incredible way to bring us back into our bodies and we can easily use them to ground us during sex.

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3. Change your environment.

You may roll your eyes when you read this but “setting the mood” can be a game-changer. Get the lights just right, turn up your favorite playlist, light a candle! And make sure the door is LOCKED. Be free from any distractions and submerge yourself into the moment with your lover.

4. Reflect

A lot of us just roll over and continue on with our day when we are having sex. We never spend time reflecting on the sex we are having with ourselves or with our partners! To be honest, the “debrief” after sex is one of my favorite parts of sex. Sex is about pleasure, but sex is also about learning, growing, and reflecting. Try to spend at least five minutes after sex reflecting with your partner or with yourself if you’re masturbating. In an effort to reflect and connect, consider asking yourself the following questions after sex:

What was the most enjoyable part of this experience?

How did I show up for myself and/or my partner?

Think of a word to summarize the sex you just had.

It’s so important to remember that no one is perfect. Above all, have grace with yourself and remember that if you don’t do all of these things perfectly, that is okay. Finding a practice that works for your life takes time, but the journey is always worth it.

Let’s make things inbox official! Sign up for the xoNecole newsletter for daily love, wellness, career, and exclusive content delivered straight to your inbox.

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Portia Brown

Portia Brown is a Brooklyn-based sex educator, coach, and content creator. She uses her educational background in journalism and sexual health to educate, advocate and uplift. When she is not working and writing, she is learning about astrology, cooking, or listening to music. You can follow Portia on Instagram @FroeticSexology.

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mbti-notes · 3 years ago

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Anon wrote: INFP with social anxiety here. I have a therapist but we're focusing on some other issues right now. In the meantime, I was wondering if you had some advice for me. I know you're not a professional (you say that multiple times in your posts) and of course I'm not asking you for a fix for my social anxiety with this - I'm just asking your help to understand what part my cognition could be playing in all of this cause I'm really curious.

Basically, my problem is the time frame right BEFORE I meet someone and, sometimes, immediately after. I don't really have problems socializing in the "middle", if you get what I mean; I'm easily adaptable and once I'm relaxed, once I realize no one is there to attack me, my mind starts getting ideas and I kind of know what to say, even though I'm a bit out of practice and I still have problems convincing other people of my emotions (like, mirroring their emotions so that they know I agree with them and stuff like that; for some reason they never ---believe me when I say it with words).

When I make plans, anyway, and I still haven't met the person, I get this anxiety: like I would rather stay home than go there because it's going to be "boring" and I'm probably going to feel like an idiot or make some sort of social gaffe. I mean, I do kinda get bored after a while anyway, but I also know I tend to overestimate that level of "future boredom" to the point it hurts me to even think about showing up and forcing myself to think of stuff I can-- say.

I get anxious because I start thinking about the way people used to treat me in the past (I've always been the black sheep of my family and/or my social circles and I vividly remember some bad things they used to say to me) and I start worrying that, deep down, they still think of me like that and they're never going to forget that "preconception of my identity" and open their eyes to who I am now, or I guess to who I've always been.

I do realize it doesn't make much sense, this "who I ----really am" part - but I've always had the impression that I was a bit different than the "me" they percieved, maybe because after many, many years of being accused of "selfishness" and "inability to tune in with the emotional atmosphere" I learned that in order not to ruin the "social mood" I should've adapted myself to the group - but the problems is that I suppressed "myself" in the meantime (and with myself I mean, like, my real interests, the things I'd like to talk about for ages without-- having to be interrupted or looked down on because, quote unquote, "ok, cool, but we don't really care").

I understand now that if they don't give me hints of actually caring about the subject I should stop rambling like a fool, but this is making me feel like I have nothing "useful" to offer them and therefore bringing the anxiety I'm struggling with. It makes me scared that I'll never be able to be myself around them because of the "social rules" I want to respect to be accepted, & to make----it worse I'm out of practice like I said before and sometimes it just gets too awkward and I want to get out of there.

I bet I'm doing something wrong because friendships and relationships in general are not supposed to be "boring", am I right? And yet until I don't get distracted by the actual conversation, I feel like it's going to be really boring and uncomfortable and sometimes going through it is SO horrible... most of the time I end up making up some excuse to go home earlier and talk----my internet friends instead (thank God for the internet!!!!). Anyway, thank you if you'll answer! And have a good summer vacation c:

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

The first thing I notice is that your thought process bears a very striking resemblance to many INFJs who struggle with social anxiety due to poor Fe development (see past posts). As a general rule, if I have good reason to suspect that someone might be mistyped, I won't provide info about function development until they undergo a proper type assessment. Otherwise, they might adopt the wrong method of improvement.

You say you want to understand what part your cognition plays in the social anxiety you experience, so I will mention the aspects of your cognition that seem most significant:

1) No Chill: You overthink things to an extreme, to the point of self-sabotage, perhaps even creating a self-fulfilling prophecy (i.e. when expecting the negative actually makes the negative happen). Overthinking means that you're not confronting the real obstacle getting in the way of your socializing. You're constantly trying to envision, imagine, or predict what will happen in a social interaction? WHY? What's the point of that overthinking? It's how you avoid confronting your fear head on.

2) Insecure: Your "predictions" are too often faulty because of being tainted by your underlying insecurities. You're insecure about being attacked, being accused, being misjudged, doing something wrong, being deemed of no value or unworthy of care, not being accepted or acceptable, dying of awkwardness, feeling bored, feeling uncomfortable, and on and on. You've described your thought process in detail. But nowhere do I see you confronting your insecurities, digging deeper into them, in order to understand the root of them. Insecurities are a manifestation of fear.

3) Control: Irrational anxiety is oftentimes about trying to control things that you shouldn't be trying to control or cannot have any control over - it wastes mental energy and leads to futile behavior. As long as you're trying to control social situations and their outcome, you are either trying too hard to make reality match up with your expectations or you're fumbling whenever reality unfolds outside of your expectations - you become rigid and frail. You claim to be "adaptable" but everything you say after that only proves you don't know the meaning of the word. You can't handle unpredictability, hence, the attempt to be in control by trying to "predict" everything. Do your attempts to control actually work? Do they help or hinder you? If they mostly hinder you, then isn't it time to change your strategy? Anxious people often believe that having more knowledge or control is the answer to their fear. But, in your case, the huge cost of being controlling is being incompetent. What's worse, the fear is still right there running the show.

4) Unresolved Trauma: You attribute your troubles to your past. Fair enough. Growing up in a social environment that did not respect and appreciate you is painful, even extremely traumatic for certain personality types. It also makes people too hungry for validation. It's natural that you wouldn't want to feel the pain of it again. However, if that pain remains unexamined and unresolved, you will unconsciously keep seeking to resolve it, which means re-enacting the trauma over and over again throughout life. The proof? Every time you meet someone, your first stance is defensive, because the first thing that comes into your mind is that you don't want to be attacked or invalidated. That old pain is running the whole show because you are deeply afraid of experiencing it again, yet you don't realize that YOU are the one calling it back up and rehashing it. What are you doing to resolve the pain rather than indulge the fear?

5) Self-absorbed: Social anxiety makes people too absorbed in their own thoughts, feelings, hopes, and expectations. They are too preoccupied with what they want, what will happen, how they will be perceived, how they might make a mistake, how they might be attacked, etc. This means they're not truly present with people, so the relationship can't really go far. Driven by fear and insecurity, they are always behind a wall, too difficult to reach.

Even if you happen to meet the right people, do you make it easy for them to befriend you? It seems that you can't open up with ease, you can't go with the flow of the other person when they don't live up to your expectations, you can't keep your emotions in check and misjudge situations, you get bored when it's not about you, you run away instead of making things better. Looking at yourself objectively from the outside, would you want to be friends with someone like that?

If you want to have good friends, you first have to BE a good friend. You want care, love, and validation? We all do. The best way to receive it is to be the first to give it. By being more aware of other people's needs and doing more to show that you care about them, you put them in a better position to care about you and meet your needs in return. This is the difference between actively trying to "make" a friend vs passively wishing for a friend to drop into your lap.

Being a friend isn't about what "value" you have, as though you're some kind of object being appraised and sold. Being a good friend is quite a simple matter of putting out the energy to care and show that you care. When you meet someone who's moved by your care, they will care for you in return. When you meet someone who's unmoved by your care, figure out the real reason why, in order to determine whether you should keep trying or put your energy elsewhere.

You never really know who you'll hit it off with. One of my favorite experiences in life is making a friend in the unlikeliest of places. As an adult, meeting new people is a numbers game. All you can do is keep pushing yourself to meet new people. The more people you meet, the greater the odds of clicking with someone. If you're looking to meet like-minded people, go to places that are likely to have people who share your interests. If you don't hit it off with someone, simply move along. You don't have to be friends with everyone, do you?

Yet, you take every little social interaction so seriously that each step is like life or death - that's what makes socializing tiring, laborious, and unfun. Why not enter into every social interaction with an open mind and an open heart? Why not truly go with the flow, without having to undergo the repetitive ritual of predicting what will happen or fussing over what did happen?

6) Poor Emotional Intelligence: This point is the common thread that runs through the previous points, which is why I keep repeating the word "fear". You have extremely low tolerance for negative feelings and emotions, which means you really need to work on learning how to deal with your emotional life better. Any little sign that things won't turn out the way you want and you start to panic, overthink, blame, or flee. Why do you recoil from yourself and your own feelings and emotions? Why are you so easily shaken by boredom, awkwardness, invalidation, failing, other people's negativity, etc? Why do you react so badly to these things (when others just brush it off and keep going)?

7) Low Self-Awareness: It's not enough to just name the fear ("I'm afraid of____"). Does the label explain why you have this particular fear and not some other fear? It's not enough to blame the past ("It's because of ____"). Why did someone else with a similar past as yours not develop this fear? To get to the root of fear, you have to identify, in exact terms:

what aspect of you has to change to overcome the fear

what aspect of your identity has to "die" (i.e. be let go of) in order to evaporate the fear

Until you answer the fear properly, it won't go away.

#social anxiety #anxiety #fear #emotional intelligence #mental health #ask

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whump-a-la-mode · 4 years ago

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Villainsicle | Part 11

Comfort! It is happening soon! I promise.

After speaking about Villain, Counselor and Hero both enact their plans to find out more about their mysterious captive. Meanwhile, Medic learns from the past.

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@sunflower1000

@lightdrinker

CW//Superhero whump, villain whumpee, conditioned whumpee, drugging, dehumanization, restraints, muzzles, choke chains, collars, pet whump (kinda), conditioning, forced sedation, just an absolutely unhealthy amount of caffeine, blood mention, injury mention, fire mention

“Humans are naturally very fearful things.”

The person in the video, the edges of their face and hair fuzzy with pixel artifacts, spoke. They had an odd grin on their face-- the sort of a news reporter. A trained smile. A very well-trained smile.

Behind them, the setting of the presentation had changed. In lieu of white tile, the floor and ceiling and walls between them glittered with black rubber. The void was broken only by a brightly colored fire extinguisher, leaned against a wall.

“As a species, we’re prey as much as we are predators. Assets are no different. They’re human too, after all. Human enough.”

At the presenter’s side, their Asset wavered. Though the action was represented with little more than a handful of pixels, it was hard not to notice the trembling of their jaw as they struggled to pant, to gasp for breath, yet meeting only the unyielding metal of the muzzle.

Unyielding yet safe, Medic mused. Control without injury. Restraint without damage.

“It’s that fear that allows our program to work as well as it does.” Somehow, that faux smile widened. “Training an Asset is simple. Fear breeds obedience. Once your Asset fears you, once they know that you are, indisputably, in control, then the training process may as well be complete.”

Without so much as a glance away from the camera, the presenter yanked upon their Asset’s leash, sending them stumbling closer as they struggled not to trip over their own feet. Their knees looked to be a moment from buckling. Deftly placing their finger between the device’s prongs, the presenter grabbed hold of the Asset’s collar, forcing their head skywards. The tiny, nearly microscopic puncture wounds upon their neck’s skin was revealed, if only for a moment.

“This Asset is relatively new to our program. They’ve previously harmed another handler. But no history, no matter how bad, can prevent an Asset from being trained. It just means you need to put in a little more effort. A little more fear. A little more control.

I understand fully the skepticism surrounding this program. You, too, may be skeptical that such a program as this can function. But I assure you, it can. This Asset has a long history of violence, attempted escapes, facility damage, and the like. Most would consider them a lost cause. Untrainable.

No one is untrainable.

Before this, they have not been taught a single command. But no one is untrainable.”

For a moment, they turned from the camera-- the first time they had done so. Medic couldn’t help but wonder whether the red-tinged pixels on their neck were from a wound, or simply from a glitch of the file.

The presenter loosened their grip of their prey, just slightly, letting go of their collar, yet still keeping hold on the leash where it attached to the choke chain.

“Sedeo.”

With a sharp, startling pull on their neck, the Asset found themself practically thrown to their knees. The movement was abrupt, such that the pixels representing it blurred and lagged.

The swiftness was followed by silence. The presenter backed away, their prey struggling to their feet. From behind them, where their hands sat straining and folded, Medic could have sworn to have seen a few frames of flame and smoke.

If the presenter noticed, they paid no heed. Once their Asset had recovered, again, they spoke. Again, they ordered.

“Sedeo.”

Their Asset sputtered a moment, backing away as far as their restraint would allow.

The word was repeated, once more. It came as a snap, a whip strike in the air.

“Sedeo!”

At the same moment, the presenter’s hand moved to a loop on their belt, where some indistinguishable object hang.

In a stumbling panic, the Asset dropped to their knees, head bowed. Jaw trembling.

The predator smiled, that plastered, trained grin, as they turned back to the camera. Their trainee still sat, panting and whimpering. A single pixel of red ran down the back of their neck.

“It’s a simple process, really. I assure you this: No one is untrainable.” With the last sentence, their tone took an odd, almost somber dip, before it picked up again with just as much speed. “I’ll see you all in the next video, then! Good luck!”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The base awoke at 7.

It was like a creature, in its own proper respects, rising slowly, legs stiff as it shook its fur. In the hallways of the quarters, a dozen separate alarm tones could be heard, followed by a dozen bleary eyes blinking. Not long after, the whir of coffee machines would begin, awaking those who had neglected to awake to their morning alarm.

Generally, Counselor awoke before the rest of the creature’s parts. They considered themself an early riser, awaking as the sun did, and oftentimes even before that. Today, however, was an exception to the rule. They had stayed up far too late past midnight to even consider arising at 6. After their alarm buzzed for a few minutes, it gave up.

They did not rise until the knock on their door sounded.

It was hushed in volume and nervous in tone. They had no need to ask who was on the other side.

“Just a minute.” They practically whispered in reply.

That was, about, exactly how long it took for them to rush to prepare themself. In exactly 62 seconds, they emerged into the quarters hallway. Hero was nearly knocked over by the door, saved only by stumbling backwards at the right time.

“Are you ready, then?” Hero raised a brow. Counselor had no clue how they managed to appear so calm.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” They shrugged.

“Please don’t let Medic murder you.”

“Yeah I’ll- I’ll try that.”

And with that, they went-- Counselor left, Hero right.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Attempting to find any individual person in the Resistance’s base was, in most senses of the word, an impossibility. Unlike a needle in a haystack, those in the building were constantly moving about, weaving through the maze of hallways and corridors. It was more like finding a grain of rice in the ocean, than anything. Counselor knew that better than anyone else.

Medic, however, was never a problem to find.

Officially, the base’s medical wing opened its operations at 7, meaning that Medic would be there at 6, or 5, or whatever godawful hour they had decided to wake up at. Regardless of when they arrived, though, they would always be there. Always in that little corner of the building. New recruits often asked if that was where they slept.

Some nights, it was.

Thus, that was where Counselor was headed. They couldn’t quite ignore the tension they held in their shoulders, but they did their best not to display it.

The medical wing was a minuscule thing, tucked away near the center of the structure, with only a single room capable of housing a patient overnight, and another designed for exams.

Counselor pushed open the door that led to the wing, wincing at the creak of steel. They half expected Medic to be on the other side, but they weren’t. All that was there were two closed doors.

On instinct as much as logic, they moved to the first one-- the exam room. It was where the doctor spent most of their day, dealing with everything from horrific injuries to someone, somehow managing to consume a rock.

The motion sensing light clicked on as they opened the door, illuminating only an empty exam table and scattered equipment.

Already, it wasn’t a good sign.

Nerves already turning up a notch, Counselor backed up, moving to the second door. The hospital room. With a deep breath, they unlocked the door and pushed it open.

The room was dark, lit only by the glow of monitors. Their beeping was accented by the steady rhythm of Villain’s shallow snoring.

Counselor had been so distracted by the captive that they only then noticed the fact that Medic was not here, either.

There was no other part of the medical wing. It was tiny, and it wasn’t like the doctor did much else. Maybe they were just making coffee. Or in the bathroom, maybe?

Rationale running through their head, Counselor backed out of the room. They closed the door as quietly as they could, turned, and nearly slammed into Medic. The steaming hot coffee in their hand made Counselor grateful that it had only been a near collision. They took a step back, giving comfortable distance between the two of them.

For a split second, it seemed almost as though Medic didn’t notice them-- their bleary eyes too focused upon the coffee in their mug. A moment later, though, they looked up.

Their gazes locked. There was no anger or hostility in the action, not that Counselor could tell. Yet, there was a tenseness to it. With a dawning sense of dread, they remembered their encounter from the day before.

But, they’d already come this far.

“Hey.” They began. The second their lips moved to form the word, they knew it sounded stupid.

“...Hey.”

“Uh... Good morning.”

“Good morning.”

“Um-”

“Is there something I can help you with?” Medic blinked, before turning, briefly, to see the door that Counselor was standing in front of. “Are you... Seriously?”

“I was looking for you.”

“Why?”

“I wanted to talk.”

“Again, why?”

“Well... I’m sure that you know that I’m in charge of the well-being of everyone living and working here. That includes you. And you look exhausted, everyone has noticed.”

“I’m fine.”

“Your glasses are on upside-down.”

Medic blinked for a moment, before fixing the error.

“That doesn’t discount the fact that people here need medical care.”

“I know it doesn’t. But I also know that you don’t have any appointments until this afternoon.”

“I have a patient to take care of.”

“Mhm. I know, that’s what I’m offering to help you with. How about you go back to sleep, and I can deal with Villain today.”

Medic grimaced.

“They need... very specialized care. It’s the kind of thing that needs to be under a doctor’s supervision.”

“I took a bullet out of your arm in Tampa.” Counselor raised a brow. “I think I can handle it.”

“It’s complicated. I don’t have time to explain.”

“I think I can feed someone Secobarbital just fine, actually.”

That seemed to awake Medic, at least partially, from their half-asleep trance. They looked up.

“How the hell did you-”

“The Head of Facilities isn’t exactly too cagey about inventory.” Counselor smiled, as sweetly and smugly as they could possibly manage. They’d noticed the discrepancy in their medicine stocks the night prior, when checking in on their supply of blankets.

“It‘s... It’s to help them sleep. That’s all.”

“And that’s why you gave them enough to incapacitate a horse?”

Medic bit their lower lip.

“And what are you going to do about it, exactly?”

“Well, I do have my daily check-in with Leader...”

“They won’t care. They know Villain is dangerous. Sedation is completely justified.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean that they’d be mad. But if you’re having to sedate your patients... maybe that means you could use some extra help around here. Someone to help with Villain. Someone who’s been looking into their files since the day they came here.”

The longer they spoke, the more Medic’s eyes narrowed.

“What the hell do you want?”

“Either you let me help, or I get Leader to assign me to do so. It’s a zero sum game. But with the first way, they won’t know that you’re misusing our medical supplies.”

“You’re not seriously doing this?”

“Oh, I seriously am.”

For a moment, they stood like that. Medic gripped the coffee cup in their hand with such force that Counselor was surprised that the handle did not simply shatter. After what felt like a nerve-wracking eternity, however, Medic gave their answer:

“Fine. Damn it all to hell.”

“Great!” Again, that smile leapt to Counselor’s countenance. “Sleep well. Oh, and, when you get up, you might want to make some new coffee. Yours might have been swapped out for decaf when you weren’t looking.”

Medic looked to be about to smash something.

“Thanks.” They growled in response.

Counselor couldn’t help but grin, ear to ear, as they turned to enter Villain’s hospital room.

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The knock on the door to Leader’s office came at a rather rare moment in their day-- one of the few moments in which they were alone, not in some meeting or mediating some argument. It had been almost peaceful.

Of course, that peace had to dissolve as soon as the knock sounded. They look up from their desk.

“Who is it?”

“It’s Hero.”

“Hero?”

“Yeah. I just wanted to talk, quick.”

“Uh... Alright. Come on in.”

As the door opened, they quickly combed their hair down with their fingers. It still looked like quite the mess, though, when Hero entered. They gestured for them to sit in the chair across, which they did.

Leader did their best to compose themself on such short notice. They had yet to fully awake, but they sat up straight in their chair, arms on the desk before them. A proper leader, as best as they could manage to be one.

“What did you want to talk about?”

“You uh, you know how Counselor spent like, hours yesterday looking over those files?”

“Yeah? Did they ever go to sleep, even?”

“Eventually, yeah. But I promised that if they got some rest, I’d talk to you.”

“About Villain?”

“Mhm.”

Hero couldn’t help but feel bad about saying it, but it was the truth. Trying to lie to Leader would only sow distrust, which was far from the top of their priorities.

“Anything in specific?” Leader took a drink of a soda. Hero sipped their coffee. “I know they’ve been obsessing over the whole thing but... If I had some kind of magic solution, I’d have told you a long time ago.”

“Their backstory. That’s what they mainly wanted to know about, as far as I could tell. I mean, we all know that they appeared and started doing... villain stuff like six months ago. But besides that?” They made a ring with their fingers. “Zilch. We figured that maybe you’d know something more.”

“Why would you think that?”

As much as Hero wanted to point out how Leader looked about to faint whenever they so much as looked at Villain--Hero had never seen it themself, but had heard enough secondhand-- they knew that that wouldn’t end well.

“Back at Organization, I mean, you were kinda the head of records and stuff, right? We just figured, maybe you’d remember something...”

“I... I hate letting you down.” Even with their sympathetic voice, Hero couldn’t help but see Leader bite their lip. “I know that six months ago, they started attacking various locations around the continent.”

“Do you think they work for Supervillain? For Organization.”

“We all did, at some point. I mean, that’s how we got our powers. Right now, though? It’s... Not a possibility we can reasonably pass up. They don’t exactly act like Supervillain’s other agents, but that doesn’t mean anything.”

“What about back when you did work for Organization? Do you remember anything? Anything at all?”

“No.” Leader shook their head. “I’m sorry, but I’m just as in the dark as you.”

Hero nodded, though they noted with frustration the beads of sweat gathering on Leader’s forehead.

“Okay. Thank you.”

They stood, sliding the chair back. They didn’t so much as make eye contact with Leader as they turned, heading for the door.

“Wait.”

Hero turned. The droplets of sweat had started to fall-- combining with the gathering of tears beading in Leader’s eyes. They blinked them away as quickly as they formed.

“Catch.”

Leader reached into, of all things, a pencil holder on their desk, producing a finger-sized piece of machinery. A flash drive. With far too little grace, they threw it, with Hero catching it like an umpire would. Before they left, they glanced at the device, noting with a slight pang of nervousness the text written upon it:

“Property of Organization.”

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The hospital room seemed darker the second time Counselor walked through its door. This time, however, they quickly flicked on the light switch as they let the door close itself behind them. They made no move to lock it. Despite what Medic seemed to think, Villain was their patient. Not their prisoner.

The pale villain seemed to blend into the blank white sheets on which they lay. Counselor noticed with a pang of worry the padded restraints, securing their wrists to the bed frame. They could hardly even walk. It seemed unnecessary at best, cruel at worst.

One day. They couldn’t fix everything, but they had one day. One day to help as much as they could.

With footsteps as soft as they could make them, they approached Villain’s bedside, a gentle hand laid upon their shoulder gently attempting to shake them awake.

They had one day. They’d start with a bath.

#whump #whumpee #whumper #whump community #whumpblr #hero villain whump #villainsicle #villain whumpee #powered whumpee #conditioned whumpee

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infinites-chaser · 3 years ago

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attachment theory | tears of themis | mo yi

deals with a few more serious themes but nothing too far off from the cases in game! also. suggestive ending pls avert ur eyes

vague, alluded to spoilers for mo yi's story and ch.2 of the main story :>

"not sleeping yet?"

for all its gentleness, mo yi's voice takes you by surprise-- you straighten abruptly from where you'd been hunched over a case file and there's a crunch in your neck-- you instantly regret it until the sudden pain's replaced with a gentle touch, and you're pulled back into his embrace, one hand resting warm around your waist, the other massaging circles around the tension in your neck.

"it's this case," you say, gesturing to the abandoned sheaf of papers. "it's bothering me."

his answering laugh's a tender vibration against your back.

"when do your cases not?"

"no," you reply, "this one's not hard, it just--"

"is bothering you," he finishes. you nod.

his hand slips from the back of your neck to rub gentle across your shoulder, then he leans forward to pick up the file, bringing the pages up to a level comfortable enough for the two of you to read together.

a silence passes. then,

"how nostalgic," he remarks. "a pick up artist and a jealous paramour."

you nod. it'd been a straightforward case: the client had gone through a bad breakup with their long-time partner, only to be preyed upon in her vulnerable state by a pick-up artist. when the ex-partner found out, he'd schemed against her, only for him and his plans to be foiled when she'd found out. it would've been simple for him to be charged, but his family had stepped in, had tried to argue it was all her, her and her abusive family, that she was just the same as them, that she'd been blackmailing and extorting him and they'd been relieved when she was finally gone.

you'd won the trial easily: it had hardly been a trial at all, more of a formality than anything else, but when you'd looked over at your client after the verdict, she hadn't looked happy. she hadn't looked proud.

she'd only looked miserable, sitting on the hard wooden bench, all alone.

you'd gone to her when the courtroom cleared, and she'd broken down, asked if this was all she would ever have in a relationship, if this was her fault, if all she ever did was seek out relationships with people who'd hurt her, just like her mother and father.

"is this all there is?" she'd asked. "to hope and hope for better and only be hurt more every time? I might as well not try at all anymore."

"that's not true at all," you'd replied. "i-- maybe I'm privileged to be able to say this, but I think we always have to keep trying, no matter how hard it gets. because what we want, the love we deserve-- it's worth it. it's something we'll never know if we give up now."

she'd fallen silent, after. you'd pulled her into a hug, and her fingers had dug deep into your shoulder blades, and for a long, shuddering moment, she hadn't let go.

"I wonder," you say now. "how much of us is from our parents? what do we inherit? what do we still have the power to change?"

though mo yi doesn't turn his head, you can feel his attention shift from the case files back to you.

"that woman," you continue, "she had a hard childhood. she had to raise herself. but her ex-boyfriend had caring parents. they'd do anything for him."

"you know," you say, "his mother even approached me before the trial."

"and what did she want?" he asks, voice soft.

you scoff.

"she told me she'd give me any sum of money if it meant her son's record would stay clean."

"oftentimes, parents will do anything for their children."

"she and her husband-- they love him a lot," you say. "they're good people. but--"

"but then why did he grow up like that? why did your client?"

you nod. he sits back, places the file aside, lets his fingers drum thoughtful across your back.

"humans are not so simple," he says at last. then, when you open your mouth,

"but you already know that."

you close your mouth as he laughs softly, then continues.

"psychologists used to think criminality was a gene. it's almost like some religions, if you think about it. you inherit the sins of your past life. if they did not live cleanly, then neither shall you. if your parents became criminals, then, inevitably, so would you."

"we know they're wrong now," he continues, "but isn't there some truth to that? who our parents are come to define who we are. or who we aren't. I believe in your client's and her ex's case, the latter is true."

"what do you mean?"

"your relationship with their parent when you're young shapes you. it's what each of us first learns attachment from. love, caring, connection-- it all stems from there. perhaps we look at your client's ex and his parents, and we see the love they have for him. the care. but for him, all he feels is that it's stifling. that he needs someone of his own to control."

his voice grows lower.

"perhaps, for your client, one might look at her, and how she raised herself, and find her independence admirable. but as you saw, rather than be happy with herself, rather than be proud, of surviving, of living well, despite all odds, all she finds in herself is her own loneliness."

he laughs softly. it isn't a happy sound.

"we humans," he says. "we often are trapped by circumstance, for reasons we can't control. but we often trap ourselves, too."

"we aren't like just that, though," you say. "humans can't always be defined just one way. we grow. we change. sometimes all we need is a direction, but it's never fixed-- there's always a choice. a chance for change. for becoming more."

a long silence passes.

"perhaps you're right," he says at last, voice almost wistful.

"but," he continues, "isn't that enough psychology for tonight? there's only so much information our brains can maintain without proper rest."

"rest?" you ask with a laugh, "what's that?"

"rest," he repeats, firmer. "it's nearly two in the morning. even if you feel awake right now, your body will regret it later."

you'd press him further about the sudden subject change, but something about the way his arms have gone tense around yours holds your tongue.

instead, you acknowledge his point with a nod and a sigh, and let him lead you back to lie down on the bed beside him.

you've had your eyes closed for all of a minute before he's pulled you into his arms, his head tucked warm under yours.

"to rest," he muses, "or to... relax."

"after all that talk about unhealthy attachment, what does this say about you, hm, Dr. Mo?" you chide gently. he chuckles, but doesn't let go, his breath warm at the base of your neck. you shiver. he pulls you closer.

"who can say," he murmurs as reply. "it's interesting, really. normally, I'd never think of myself as someone who gets attached. but around you--"

"around me what?" you echo.

"around you, I can't seem to help myself."

his voice is low. on another man, you'd call it almost needy, but with him, paradox, walking contradiction he is, it's a confessional. a prayer. a promise. a prediction.

"can't help yourself?" you repeat again, hoping the words don't betray the heat creeping over your cheeks. and there's a million questions you want to ask, about his parents, his past, the way he always pulls back from a conversation before you can catch a true glimpse of the inner him,

but he breathes in, breathes out. slow, langourous, savoring the moment, savoring you, and the questions quiet,

"I never can," he muses. "it's strange."

his head dips lower, the silver of his hair brushing low across your cheek.

"why you," he murmurs against the hollow of your throat. you don't dare breathe, dare move, dare think. then his lips find the curve of tender skin where neck meets collarbone and you inhale, sharp and fast, and you don't think at all.

you drown in him, his mouth on your skin, his teeth a gentle rough, his tongue teasing tender, quicksilver, lightning, lava, everything molten, leaving you breathless burning,

he surfaces between your legs, your fingers laced through his hair, turned silvered with sweat, golden gaze on yours, his hands tracing the course of your veins, your pulse racing hard and heavy under his touch.

"you," he breathes against your inner thigh, fingers ghosting gentle, ghosting higher, "you, you, a thousand times over. always you."

he presses his mouth to your skin, lets his lips skim upward, a hundred kisses in one, slow and teasing.

more than anything else, you think, we are what we choose to be. maybe there are parts of him you'll never quite know the way you want to, maybe there are certain things he can't give up, and the same goes for you. but despite his past, despite his secrets, you've always ever known one truth of mo yi, the truth of him when it comes to you.

(he chooses you, despite, despite, despite. and so do you. you choose, in the hopes of growth. of change. of something that'll last, something meaningful.)

"it's always you for me, too," you whisper, then let his lips claim yours.

#tears of themis #mo yi #kinda a warm up this was supposed to be deep but the truth is. i just like my boy leave me alone #val writes #let it be known the original title of this was mo yi brainrot #anyway. this is v. talky. i am still trYing to get a grasp of both their characters but. mo yi is a Romantic under all his Logic and ration #so Jot that down #trying on. um. some spice for taste. pls Avert ur eyes from the ending

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mashiraostail · 4 years ago

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How would Vlad King, Gang Orca, Midnight and Toshinori with an S/O who has really bad back pain, and carries a lot of tension due to Anxiety but keeps quiet about it because they don't wanna be a bother but one day it gets to the point they're laying on the ground on their back crying cuz they're in so much pain?

im gay and my back hurts!

Sekijiro Kan When he sees you on the floor he’ll be pretty confused, once he realizes you’re in any amount of pain though he’ll be kneeling beside you immediately. “What’s wrong?” He’ll ask about a million times in a million different phrases while you lay there, hands covering your face. When you explain he’ll be pretty sympathetic, hero work can be really taxing on the body so he has his fair shares of aches and pains too, he’ll probably offer you everything and anything that’s ever helped him in the past, heating pads, cooling pads, warm drinks, back rubs, he’ll even offer to hold you up in a hot shower if you want. “Is the ground better, or do you want me to carry you to bed? Or would that make it worse? Can you get up? I can just lift you up from there though too so-” He’s so nervous about causing you any more pain and it’s really sweet it probably helps you feel a little bit better emotionally at least. If you wanna cuddle up with him he’ll be more than okay with that. He may lightly reprimand you for not telling him about this sooner, just because he feels guilty for not trying to help you sooner. Though when he does it’ll sound more like he’s blaming himself for not noticing until now. Honestly, he probably asks you to walk on his back a lot, though he knows he is much too big to offer the service to you he will wholly mean it when he offers to have one of his students do it, seriously, if no one in his class is the right size for you he’ll bother Aizawa about it and use one of his students (who will find it hilarious anyway) If nothing is helping he’ll resign to lay in bed with you, rub your back, and kiss you wherever until it passes, the thought of you in pain that he can’t help distresses him quite a bit but he knows if he panics the situation won’t improve so he elects to be a quiet but constant and solid presence of comfort if you need anything, be sure to ask him, he wants to help and there’s nothing you can’t have, he’ll feel a lot better if you put him to work at a time like this so don’t be shy. He usually finds that being trapped by you in bed or on the couch gives him the incentive to do some much need grading, so don’t worry about being a bother to him at all, he actually really appreciates it. Kugo Sakamata He’ll take longer than the others to figure out why you’re laying around like that, and he may leave you be just for a bit figuring you’re upset and need space, he’s used to letting you come to him. But after barely 10 minutes he’ll be too nervous about the strangeness of your actions so he’ll ask what’s wrong. Once you explain he’ll also be a huge worried busybody, but it’s rare for him to find himself with the same types of aches and pains as you, the difference between your quirks’ side effects and your bodily anatomy can at times make it hard for him to understand the pain you're in and vice versa Though it doesn’t quell his desire to want to understand, and even if he doesn’t get it he’ll always want to help, his search history is probably full of articles about back pain and tension from anxiety and otherwise. If anything the rift between your understandings of each other's pains just makes him worry more, when you complain about something that’s actually just a minor ache if he’s not sure how it feels he’ll probably overestimate it tenfold. He’ll also definitely buy like a thousand different brands of heating/cooling pads and pain relief patches and creams that he’ll always offer to apply for you. If walking hurts he’ll carry you wherever you want to go, and he’ll run all your errands for you too. He’ll also feel pretty guilty for not noticing and he’ll apologize to you for it and tell you that he just wishes you’d spoken up sooner so he could have helped then. If a warm bath will help you he’ll be more than delighted to extend the offer to help you out with that and spend a while cuddling up with you afterward. If you apologize for eating away at his time he really won’t wanna hear it, he doesn’t mind taking time out of his day to help you out, he knows you would do the same for him and he wouldn’t want to be alone while he was in pain, so he wouldn’t want to leave you alone if you are.

Nemuri Kayama She’ll realize something is wrong straight away, even if she isn’t sure exactly what it is. Once you explain she’ll be extremely sympathetic, similar to Sekijiro she understands feeling dull and achy, it’s a side effect of the job, so she gets how miserable you must feel. She’s probably the least likely to jump and offer you every remedy she’s ever used, electing instead to see if there’s anything specific that you want right then, if you have any tried and true remedies that have worked over the years be sure to tell her. She won’t care how outlandish or hard to acquire they might be she’ll make it work for you. If you don’t have any surefire fixes that’s alright she’s got plenty of her own and will run you down the list of them. Everything from her favorite heating pad to a long hot bath, nothing is off the table if you wanna do it, she’ll help. She’ll offer to rub your back, carry you to bed, make you something hot to eat or drink or just spend some time with you, brushing your hair, kissing you, or talking about random things to try and distract you. Like Sekijiro she’s actually pretty appreciative of all the times you get her to stick in one place. It forces her to sit there and contemplate all her work until she feels guilty enough to start grading it, she won’t want to hear you apologize for using up her time because she simply doesn’t see it that way. Even if she didn’t get any work done while she was taking care of you she appreciates spending time with you, and she’s always really appreciative of it when you trust her enough to ask her for help and to let her help you, even if it took you a while to clue her in she’ll be glad to know now.

Yagi Toshinori He’ll probably realize what it is right away and he’ll be kneeling beside as soon as he spots you upset. No one really understands aches and pains like Toshi, he feels like there’s constantly a dull ache in some place in his body at all times and he’ll be really sorry to see you in even a vaguely similar kind of pain. That in mind his presence is just really comforting and he knows that. Like Nemuri he’ll probably ask you if there’s anything he can do for you right then to help alleviate the tension and he really does mean anything. If it could help even a little he’ll want to know so don’t worry about seeming high maintenance, picky, or anything else like that. Toshinori really understands chronic pain, so he knows there are times when nothing helps but one ridiculously specific remedy. If you don’t have any tried and true that’s fine because he does, and he’s willing to run through the extensive list with you, he’ll offer to help you stretch, crack your back, change you into comfier clothes, take a warm bath or shower with you, or just rub your back while you lay on top of him. Unlike the others, though he’s probably more understanding of the idea that sometimes nothing is going to help and you just need to lay down, distract yourself, and wait for it to pass. If it comes down to that he’ll be a solid comfort for you during that time. He’ll wish you’d talked about this sooner, but from this point on he’ll be extra mindful to remind you of your posture and other small things that could exacerbate the pain. He’s not interested in hearing you apologize for being a bother either, sometimes he knows he works too hard, pushes himself too much, so when he has to slow down and help you out it also forces him to recognize the beating his own weary body has taken, and he’ll enjoy relaxing and taking care of you for a few days and he’ll oftentimes come out the other end of it feeling better himself. He’ll also be grateful that you trust him enough to put your wellbeing in his hands, and that you feel safe enough with him to show him this side of yourself and be vulnerable with him, he’ll be really vocal about how grateful he is of these things, hear him out on it and you’ll feel much better about asking him for help afterward.

#yagi toshinori x reader #all might x reader #gang orca x reader #kugo sakamata x reader #nemuri kayama x reader #midnight x reader #kan sekijiro x reader #vlad king x reader #vlad king #all might #gang orca #bnha x reader #bnha requests #bnha hc #yagi toshinori hc #gang orca hc #nemuri kayama hc #kan sekijiro hc

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maldito-arbol · 4 years ago

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Let’s talk about the GP zodiacs (Part 2)

HOLSY HSIT I LOVE THE GP KIDS SO MUCH AND THEIR SIGNS ARE SO INTERESTING

Thank u to puff-poff for shooting me with an ask about the gp kids, I think our brains just assimilated

One more note: I should’ve mentioned this in my last post but compatibility between signs doesn’t only apply to romantic relationships, it applies to any kind of relationship like friendships, family relations, etc. It’s just that when it comes to more platonic relationships, wholly incompatible signs are more likely to be able to work something out together. As an example, I’m a Gemini, and I’m about 300% certain I could never ever in my life date a Pisces, but I do have a few Pisces friends that I get along well enough with.

Okay same drill—sign, element, infodump, GO

Violet

Birthdate: June 12th

Sign: Gemini

Element: Air

Overview: SQUEALS GUYS ITS VIOLET MY BELOVED. WE’RE BOTH GEMINIS THEREFORE WE ARE THE SAME PERSON. I’m kidding but no, Violet being a Gemini makes her 100x easier to project onto. So I mentioned before that Air signs are the least in tune with their emotions, are the thinkers before they act, are horribly indecisive, and these very much apply to Geminis as well. However, the most iconic trait of a Gemini is the ability to switch personalities at the drop of a hat whenever it services the group of people they’re in—what most people call the ‘two-faced’ part of Geminis. Hey, I promise you that being two-faced is actually a pretty cool and useful asset when in the hands of a decent human being. It means we get along well with a lot of different people, and if we don’t, we can act like we do as if it’s nothing. This asset, however, can turn into a curse of sorts in that a lot of us have...NO IDEA what our actual personality is. We reshape and remold ourselves and copy traits from other signs to fit in so much that we lose sight of who we are as an individual, and therefore we have a very hard time figuring out what we truly want. This is where the indecisiveness comes into play—ask a Gemini what they want for lunch and you’ll get a “what? Huh? Oh, you pick. I’m fine with whatever.” I know Geminis best because I am one, pls forgive me for rambling so much more about them than the other signssss.

Okay so first of all, let’s talk about Violet adapting to other characters to ‘fit in’. It’s not as obvious because Violet DOES seem to have one very fixed personality, but Violet prefers to speak through actions rather than words, so I would call her following Emma to help the children at GP a Gemini move. She could’ve simply dragged her to Lucas—she’s probably strong enough to do so, but instead she decided to go along with her. This isn’t to say there’s no pushback of course, as Air signs Geminis aren’t idiots, so they’ll often try to reason with others (particularly fire signs cough cough) to try to bring logic and critical thinking into the conversation. However, when that fails, they can still be counted on to support their friends even if they disagree. This is why Geminis and Leos are soulmates you heard it here, the stars said Violemma is the way. BUT ALSO CAN WE TALK ABOUT HOW VIOLET’S THE ONE ADAM LISTENS TO DURING THE LEUVIS BATTLE. YOU WANNA TALK ABOUT BEING ABLE TO GET ALONG WITH A LOT OF PEOPLE, THERE YOU GO.

Anyway it’s also very much worth noting that while Violet can seem very harsh at times (bc Geminis will put you in your PLACE), bringing her logical kind of advice into conversations can be a very helpful comforter.

On another note this scene is so gay?

Compatibility and ships: hellooooooo Air sign Violet you are compatible with other Air signs (Aquarius, Libra, and Gemini) as well as Fire signs (Leo, Sagittarius, and Aries). Usually you’ll see Aquarius and Sagittarius as the most compatible with Geminis but I disagree with that because I have never met a Sagittarius I like so I’m still pointing fervently at Leos and the fact that Emma is a Leo. Listen. Violemma is the way. I am determined to convert all of you to Violemma if it’s the last thing I do. Geminis simply cannot help themselves around Leos they fall like a fucking anvil for that bright, golden-hearted dumbass energy. If there’s any Leos in the tpn fandom let me know I might just propose to you.

Oliver

Birthdate: October 25th

Sign: Scorpio

Element: Water

Overview: the first time I looked up Oliver’s birthday I went “Scorpio???? REALLY????” but then this is another case where the more I think about it, it does indeed make sense. If Leos are the natural leaders of the Fire signs, then Scorpios are the natural leaders of the Water signs. Where Cancers and Pisces will often lose themselves to their emotions, Scorpios have a very strong handle on them. I mentioned before that Water signs are at the highest emotional level, but Scorpios are a bit of an interesting case because you oftentimes won’t even notice that they’re very emotional people. They try to act like Air signs in that way, but their true colors are always there, waiting to be coaxed out.

For Oliver, you can clearly tell that his emotional bond with his friends and especially with Lucas is very high—but even so, he doesn’t let his emotions cloud his judgment or his ability to adapt to the situation at hand. Where earth signs are very fixed and difficult to move, water signs are always moving and changing to find solutions best suited for new circumstances. The best example I can give is the part where the music plays early, and despite internally panicking about it, Oliver is the one who naturally steps up to calm everyone down.

Scorpios are great at handling others’ emotions as well as their own, which makes them marvelously empathetic leaders. We stan.

Compatibility and ships: as a Water sign, Oliver is compatible with other Water signs (Cancer, Pisces, and Scorpio) as well as Earth signs (Taurus, Virgo, and Capricorn) so speaking broadly that makes him compatible with Pepe (a Pisces) and Zack (a Cancer) but narrowing it down, Scorpios are usually best with Tauruses and Cancers. Idk if I’m the only one who ships Oliver with Pepe but I know there’s a few people who ship him with Zack—so congrats to you guys, you won the stars’ approval.

Lucas

Birthdate: November 28th

Sign: Sagittarius

Element: Fire

Overview: yall,,,, when I found out Lucas was a Saggy Titty I legitimately guffawed out loud. Lucas and Sagittarius is so funny.... because it’s so wrong. Saggy Titties are the definition of chaos, they’re brazen, impulsive, and constantly changing. Like think of a frat boy in a house full of beer and pool tables and hot girls and you get Sagittarius. This is why I have never met a Sagittarius I like—because they have frat boy energy, and even non-male Sagittariuses require wayyy too much energy for me to handle. I guess the only time Lucas really does act like a Sagittarius is in his childhood with Yuugo, and the way he’s a lot bolder and outgoing versus the quieter older Lucas we have now.

It is important to note that Lucas has been through a lot of trauma and lost a lot of comrades which could very well change the a person’s entire outlook and turn their personality 180 degrees—that could be a large factor, although on the flip side, Yuugo still fits his Capricorn sign even after going through what he’s been through. Different events affect different people differently. Lucas was most likely knocked entirely off his Sagittarius high-horse very quickly when he arrived in Goldy Pond. But if I had no prior knowledge of who he was beforehand, I very well might’ve pegged him a Leo like Emma or even another subtle Aries like Norman. So yes, he does indeed have fire energy, it’s just generally very lackluster and farrrr away from Sagittarius’ level.

Compatibility and ships: okay so I know the only Lucas ship with any weight to it in this fandom is Yuucas, and here’s the thing,,, A Sagittarius and Capricorn combo is the most horrifying fucking couple imaginable and I’m stan so hard. Realistically speaking, your Capricorns would try to put a leash on their Sagittariuses because man. I forgot to mention how childish Sagittariuses can be (though the frat boy comparison should’ve been a clue), and holy shit that poor Capricorn is gonna get ripped to shreds by their Sagittarius. Imagine like a super pompous cowboy trying to ride a furious bull that’s trying to buck him off like there’s no tomorrow. Capricorns are people who want complete control over themselves and their partners, while Sagittariuses,, Saggy Titties just want to see the world burn. Put them together and you could probably cause the End Times Apocalypse. But you know what? Good for them. I think Yuugo and Lucas love each other enough that the toxicity that comes with typical pairups with these two signs is about nonexistent between them. But I fully believe they could still destroy an entire planet and that’s valid of them to do so. Anyway moving on!

you wanna talk about another Sagittarius that makes absolutely no sense?

Paula

Birthdate: December 9th

Sign: Sagittarius

Element: Fire

Overview: My authors I am begging you, stop putting character birthdays in the Sagittarius zone you clearly don’t know what a Sagittarius is.

Since I refuse to acknowledge Paula as a Sagittarius, let’s talk about what sign she actually acts like because I said so. Paula’s a Virgo. Fight me Shirai. (Also im sus that shirai is virgophobic because where the fuck are my virgos. There’s like zero major characters that are virgos, and the characters that ARE don’t even act like virgos. I’m coming for your small intestine Shirai) so as earth signs, virgos are generally pretty resourceful and of course level-headed. They’re kinda shy and reserved, but they’re also very hard workers you can count on when you need to get a job done. Nary will you find a Virgo that procrastinates or attempts to weasel their way out of a mission they’ve been given. The unmovable earth in virgos shows through in how committed they are, and we can see all these traits in Paula. Though she’s a quieter member of the GP resistance, you can tell just how much of an asset she is to them. She doesn’t run, doesn’t lose her cool, and she’s good at pointing out important details.

Pls let me decide your characters’ birthdays for you Shirai I promise I am good at it.

Compatibility and ships: I guess, astrologically speaking, as a Sagittarius, Paula does fit pretty well with Sonya because she’s a Gemini. I actually know next to nothing about Paula ships but I do know she’s lesbian and her and Sonya are cute but I also ship her with Barbara because reasons don’t ask questions I WILL bite you anyway they’re compatible too because barb’s also a Gemini.

Lot of Geminis, don’t you think? Yes I do. Let’s talk about them.

Sonya and Sandy

Birthdates: June 3rd and May 22nd respectively

Signs: Gemini

Element: Air

Overview: these two are what I call the gemini twins bECAUSE THEYRE ALWAYS HANGING OUT AND ITS SO TRUE GEMINIS LOVE EACH OTHER BUT ALSO ITS SO WEIRD THAT WE GET ALONG. imagine like two of those one way mirrors facing each other where it just goes on and on and on for infinite mirror and that’s what two Geminis hanging out is like. Look, they’re literally thinking the same thing and it’s so great

Anyway there isn’t a whole lot of Sandy and Sonya content to go off of in the first place, but them being Geminis seems reasonable to me—at the very least they are indeed meant to get along well and they’re so in sync I could cry. Plus they’re pretty intuitive and able to think right on the spot as they’re facing Nous and Nouma (at least at first) My man Shirai also.. really likes Geminis for some reason because they keep popping up. So instead of one Spider-Man meme it looks more like this,

Compatibility and ships: not gonna dwell too long on this section because from previous ones you may already recall they’re compatible with each other and I guess with Paula as well as I must begrudgingly accept the fact that shes canonically a Sagittarius.

Pepe

Birthdate: February 19th

Sign: Pisces

Element: Water

Overview: so I mentioned before that water signs are at about the highest emotion level, which makes Pisces a very sensitive group like Cancers. But Pisces in general are known for being the kindest and most accepting people as well, which means they’re able to make a lot of friends very easily. They’re basically that one person you sat next to in class who started a conversation with you just to be nice. Now again, there’s not a whole lot of Pepe content to go off of, but we can tell he’s kind and loving to his friends and the other kids in GP. One thing I can mention is that Pisces usually are the one of the nosiest of the signs, and they get very bothered by lies and secrets (this is true for a lot of water signs, but Pisces are the worst in my experience) so we got this single piece that may have a little bit of the Pisces in Pepe showing:

Compatibility and ships: So as a Pisces, Pepe is only compatible with Oliver and Zack considering they’re also water signs. Everyone else is Fire and Air, funnily enough, but the Pepe ships with those two are super cute I think so it’s ok.

Zack

Birthdate: July 7th

Sign: Cancer

Element: Water

Overview: so do I think Zack fits his sign? Yes, in a way I do. I already went into Cancers when I explained Don, so quick recap: Cancers are some of the most sensitive and empathetic, so their loyalty to their loved ones is pretty close to on-par with an Aries. And while Zack isn’t as outwardly emotional as someone like Don, the Cancer in him shows up well in that he’s constantly taking extremely difficult missions he doesn’t want his friends to risk, and he shrugs off any injury to himself.

This might just be a me thing but almost every Cancer I’ve met has a habit of doing That. I am so concerned for their safety. I guess though, if I hadn’t known his sign beforehand, I 100% would’ve pegged him an Aries.

Compatibility and ships: I already went over this with Pepe, but Zack is compatible with Pepe and Oliver. Y’all ok listen to me. OT3. Make it happen. Between them they have every sign in the element of water. They’d be unstoppable.

Gillian

Birthdate: September 30th

Sign: Libra

Element: Air

Overview: here’s a fun one. So as I previously stated, air signs are usually out of tune with their emotions, but where that causes Aquariuses and Geminis to repress or hide them, Libras,,,, just dump them everywhere. Listen I know Libras are supposed to be the sign of the balance scales and they have a thing about the world being perfectly balanced which makes them more prone to revenge bUT ALSO. MY first and foremost takeaway from Libras is that they all suffer from Rich Bitch syndrome, in which they obsess over material items and every Libra has a thing about cute girly stuff change my mind. HOWEVER, they’re often very chaotic as well, the kinda Sagittarius of the Air signs. So like a super cute and seemingly fun girl who will probably murder you in your sleep.

I’m sorry I can’t take it I’ve been laughing at this for the past fifteen minutes it’s too funny. Anyway, Gillian’s Rich Bitch Syndrome appears through her fashion statement. Her PINS. omg. Gillian your Libra is showing.

Compatibility and ships: as a Libra Gillian is compatible with other Air signs (Aquarius, Gemini, Libra) as well as Fire signs (Aries, Sagittarius, Leo) but she’s most compatible with Aries and Sagittarius so—— Paula yes, but also Nigel because he’s an Aries! Speaking of Nigel,

Nigel

Birthdate: March 27th

Sign: Aries

Element: Fire

Overview: Aries Nigel doesn’t come as a surprise, let’s be real here. I delved into Aries before with Norman, so just as a recap: Aries are so intensely loyal to the ones they love and would do absolutely anything for them even at the cost of their lives, and this can make them prone to outbursts of anger and/or impulsivity. Here’s your one image of Aries Nigel, I don’t even have to explain:

Compatibility and ships: so I already said this but Nigel is at his most compatible with Gillian. Are there other Nigel ships?? Pls let me know I’m very curious.

Aw, it’s over now :(

I loved talking about the GP kids they fill the void in my heart. Now to move onto talking about the demons because the silliest idiot requested it and I am beyond ecstatic to spout pure headcanon bullshit. If you’re feelin excited then feel free to keep sending characters my way I will be happy to ramble about their canon zodiac or my headcanon for their zodiac

Edit: i forgot to link part 1 to anyone who wants it and doesn’t want to stalk my profile to find it

#the promised neverland #yakusoku no neverland #tpn analysis #tpn #goldy pond #you have no idea the trouble tumblr put me through attempting to put only ten images in this giant post #fuck u tumbley for having a limit #but i also took the extra effort to make unnecessary memes so that ones on me #hope y’all like #ugh this made me think about GP ships and how much i wanna draw them #especially the new OT3 I can hyperfixate on #also can we talk about Sagittarius erasure in media #the only Sagittarius I know who actually acts like a Sagittarius in his respective show is Shou from mp100 #but he’s also one of my favorites so I guess not all sagittariuses (derogatory)#what was i talking about #tpn manga spoilers #mal rants #man I wanted to wait a little longer to post this but I’m literally on the brink of passing out I’m so tired #so here ya go take it #idk if I’ve made errors I was like half-awake when I proofread it #but anyway g’night I’m gonna go into a coma

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bitch-butter · 3 years ago

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more modern!au webgott. still deciding if i want to do anything with this, in the meantime she lives here~

Read More for meet-cute in the back of an Uber

***

He had known the woman across the hall from him with every sense except sight.

Could hear the sound of her heels clattering off to work in the morning as he fixed himself food before passing out, had even glanced at her back as she left the mailroom, the sheet of blonde hair that swept over her shoulder. She’d been dating a guy with light feet, who drove a car with a Texas license plate he always stared at when he smoked out by the dumpster. The car had disappeared in June, and shortly afterwards he’d heard the moving trucks outside, the sound of somebody's life being hefted out the door over a whole day.

The trucks had appeared again in August, but he’d pulled the pillow over his head and missed the majority of the move-in.

In September they raised the rent. By October he was already working longer hours to make up for it, lingering longer near the airport, taking every scheduled ride, spending every spare moment asking to pick up Fridays and Saturdays at the bar.

He’s fucking exhausted when the air turns cold. In the scant hours between working and sleeping he thinks of escaping, of all the places he could move to get away from Philadelphia. He thinks about Montana, Washington, New York, Canada, Sweden, France, and most especially the roads. Roads and roads and roads to get lost in, to get turned around and inside out on.

But it had taken a lot to get him out of California. A lot to take this apartment and make it into something like a home, to take the aggregate of these days and call them a life.

Might not be a good one, but it is his at the end of the day.

Even so, the hours were wearing on him.

It was nearly 2:45a.m. by the time he was trolling through downtown and the request chimed in, startling him out of his fugue. Blinking rapidly, he had half a mind to reject it and just cut it all short and head to bed, but his eyes caught on the destination.

His apartment building.

Joe accepts the trip before thinking about it, curiosity getting the better of him as he began winding his way back towards the Canopy hotel. One of the unseen neighbors. It’s a small world, after all.

He’s gathered people from this hotel before, typically bound for the airport, and the sight of its well lit doorway, the patterned stones of the sidewalk before it, the richly detailed façade and canopy always made him crave steak. Steak, stiff sheets, and even stiffer booze. Fine things. Things he has neither the time nor the inclination for, in spite of the empty comforts they promised him in the dark after hours of shuffling strangers from one building to the next.

In spite of this stranger.

He stood just outside of the circle of light cast from the hotel, the rosy glow of its many lights barely catching onto the angles of his curls, the lines of his neck above the collar of his coat, and the shapes that made his face in the semi-dark. He waved one hand out to Joe as he crawled to a stop, stepping towards him with heavy movements as he pocketed his phone and pulled the door open.

“David?” Joe prompts, turning to look over his shoulder as the guy slid deftly into the backseat.

“That’s me,” the guy confirmed gently, buckling his seatbelt as Joe pulled out from his spot and made for the familiar route towards home.

“Anything you want to listen to?” he asks, eyes glancing up into the rearview mirror to catch another glimpse of the shadowed man, David, and what pleasing shadows they were. In the neon lights passing beyond the car window he spotted his jaw, his mouth, then back to the road, then back to the mirror and his cheek, then back to the road.

He was...a type. A type Joe hadn’t felt a pull towards in a minute, but…

In the mirror he could see the heavy bobbing of David’s throat, before he gave his head a small shake.

“No,” he said simply.

Shrugging with just his face, Joe took the hint gracefully. Not a talker, he thought as he reached for the volume and turned the radio back up. The late night station was playing the sort of heroin music he had liked to listen to deep, deep in the night as a teenager, the CD’s he had gathered up from ‘Used’ bins, half-priced sections. The comforting sound of Lou Reed flooding out from the stereo brought a wry grin to his face.

The last time he heard “Satellite of Love” they had all been singing it in unison on mushrooms back in California.

Long time ago.

Still, the song made him feel abruptly young.

They ride in silence, Lou cushioning the oftentimes uncomfortable stillness as best he could, until Joe happens to glance up back into the rearview and catch sight of tears. David, his unseen neighbor, or so he presumed, stared listlessly out the window of the car as it glided through the barren streets, streetlamps catching onto the empty canvas of his window and lighting up his face just long enough to illuminate the absent pain of his face. He looked back a few more times to be certain his tired eyes weren’t playing tricks on him, but found the same: darkness, light, tears, darkness, light, tears.

Joe paused, mouth opening but remaining voiceless. He’s had people cry in here before, of course he has, but this particular incident is catching him off guard. Maybe because this guy lives in his building, maybe because Joe likes the look of him, maybe because he makes no motions, makes no sound, as he cries. It could be any of these things in isolation, and in combination it turns his head into mince meat.

He’s too nice for his own fucking good sometimes, swear to Christ.

“Are you ok?” he ventured quietly, half afraid his voice would get lost under the still hum of the music, of Lou Reed’s snapping backup vocals.

David’s eyes shot to him in the mirror, and Joe glanced back to the road quick as lightning. Blue, blue, blue, his veins throbbed, stunned and intently, irrevocably, interested.

In the backseat he heard the sound of a somewhat shaky inhale, before a hard exhale. “I just had a hard night.”

“You want to talk about it?” Joe pressed, glancing back to get another eyeful of blue, this time drawn sideways to watch the lights go past.

David paused, an almost audible swallow moving through his throat. “I came out here for...someone,” he said softly, voice raw. “And it’s just not going very well.”

Someone. Damn it.

Joe tamped down his disappointment and looked back to the empty road before them. “Something you two can work out?”

He could see the impression of movement out of the corner of his eye, a shake of the head. “He isn’t who I thought he was.”

He, Joe noted, and looked back towards the mirror. “Nobody ever is,” he said easily, fighting between bitterness and comfort.

David coughed out a choked ghost of a laugh, wiping at his face. “That’s not what I want to hear right now.”

Joe smirked into the mirror, wondering how much of his own face the other man could see in the dark. “Not being paid to tell you what you want to hear,” he said back lightly, happy at least that the heaviness of his passenger's mood had lifted somewhat. “Just get you home.”

“Home,” David repeated darkly, rolling his eyes with a weary humor. “I don’t have a home, not anymore.”

A familiar enough sentiment. So much so that Joe found himself nodding towards the road. “That’s what I thought when I first came out here.”

“You’re not from here?”

“Nope.”

“Where are you from?” David asked, and the curiosity in his voice caught hold of his eyes again, and he found himself looking back into the mirror where he was being watched.

“California,” he answered, trying to sound cagey as he quickly moved on. “Where are you from?”

David blinked into the mirror, before looking back towards the darkened window. “New York.”

“Why’d you come out here?”

“I’m supposed to be writing,” the other man sighed, shaking his head once more, an aggrieved turn to his mouth as he looked back to the mirror for one moment and then back to the passing lights the next. “I’m supposed to be engaged, I guess.”

Well, that’s the clincher. Joe fought not to scowl, before reprimanding himself for getting his hopes up in the first place. Nobody fucks their Uber driver, especially not guys that get picked up at the Canopy, and especially not guys that look like that. It's just been too long since he last had anybody, he’s letting his dick get the best of him.

That’s what he tells himself.

“But it’s not going very well,” he noted, trying to sound as terribly wheedling as he felt.

David’s mouth scrunched up, an oddly sardonic expression. “It’s funny what a new city will do to you, huh?”

Joe cleared his throat, attempting to straddle the line between professional and familiar enough to comfort. “Listen, I might not be an expert or anything, but it will get better,” he assured, half grimacing at the saccharine nature of the words. “It does get better.”

The other man scoffed. “That’s just for gay kids.”

A laugh startled out of his mouth, and Joe couldn’t even pretend to hold it back. “Well, it works for people a long way from home, too,” he insisted, meeting David’s eyes in the mirror once more to take in the softly humored expression held inside it. “Trust me. Hated it here the first year I lived here. But you just gotta sit in it for a minute.”

Another sigh. “I’m trying.”

Joe felt a strange warmth towards the man in his backseat, towards his slumped shoulders, his drawn face, the electricity of his eyes. “If you still hate it here in a year I’ll give you a lift to the airport myself,” he promised, imbuing his voice with as much of that sentiment as he could as he rounded the corner onto their block.

David looked back at him, an open intensity in the turn of his mouth, the icy calculation of his eyes. “I’ll make sure to add you as Favorite Driver, then,” he said easily, and Joe could swear he heard some of that particular interest he had felt himself dripping from the other man’s words.

“Customer is always right,” he responded weakly, pulling up alongside the stone building, its three levels of dark windows and the brightly lit gape of its front door.

David nodded, almost to himself, before making a vague gesture with his hand. “There’s a lot in the back, there.”

“I got it,” Joe assured, pulling off the street to round into the back. He’d do best to keep their shared residence to himself. After all, this guy is not only likely engaged but probably wouldn’t appreciate being hit on by his Uber driver only to find out they live in the same building after having to shoot Joe down. Can of worms.

Doesn’t mean he’s happy about it. He really does need to fucking get out more.

David unbuckled himself as Joe stopped in front of the back door, the door made of old iron that screeched and creaked with regularity, needing an extra shove just to close completely sometimes. “Well, thank you very much.”

Joe nodded, looking over his shoulder like the needy motherfucker he was. “I hope -” he started, putting a pause on the other man’s movements just long enough for them to look into each other’s faces for the first time. Shadows cut over David’s face, obscuring his lips, the side of his face, and leaving only a single eye, still red at the rims, staring back at him in curiosity. Joe fought not to gnaw against his lip, acknowledging dully that he’s already made this odd enough. “Well, good luck.”

David blinked at him, head moving in a dismissive nod and letting the light catch onto the paleness of his skin, illuminating the little smile that moved over his lips. “Thank you,” he responded, meeting Joe's eyes with some manner of gratitude. “Thank you for…”

As the other man trailed off, Joe let the temporary insanity move through his head like a stiff breeze. “Give it a chance. And break up.”

Laughing bemusedly, David looked at him almost stunned but at least appearing amused as he continued looking deeper and deeper into the shadows of Joe's face. “I can’t decide if you’re trying to get a good tip or not,” he said, teasing and searching at once.

“I can’t give away all my secrets, this was only a $12 ride,” Joe quipped back, chest going warm with the way David laughed at him again. At least he wasn’t offended. Or so he appeared.

“Well, I’ll take it into consideration,” he said decidedly, and the soft interest of his eyes was back again, but Joe must be imagining it. He’s imagining things, he’s tired. “Thank you again.”

“Take care,” he said quietly, exhausted by his own moods as David opened the door and stepped out into the lot.

David lingered at the door for a moment, hand pressed against it as he looked back towards Joe in the warm light of the apartment building behind him. His mouth opened, before almost grimacing closed as he gave his head a small shake. Sighing, he met Joe's eyes again just long enough to nod at him with a gentle smile.

“Drive safe, Joe,” he said, and shut the door.

Fuck.

Joe watched him go, making sure he got in and that the fucking screeching door shut behind him alright.

Maybe he’ll see him around. Who knows? It’s all wishful thinking. He’s only met one of his neighbors in the entire time he’s lived here, there’s no way that he’s ever seeing that guy again.

Joe doesn’t get that lucky. He hasn’t gotten lucky in a long, long time, in more ways than one.

He sighed.

Nothing a few more hours out on the road can’t cure. After all, bars are going to start closing fast, he can at least make some money while he daydreams about fucking his neighbor.

He swipes into the app, completing the trip and finding it in his heart to rate David a clean Five Stars for being hot and emotionally distressed enough for Joe to want to escort him upstairs and soothe him with his dick. Maybe he should start letting himself go on apps again if he’s going to start being this fucking annoying to himself.

By the time he’s back downtown waiting for a flurry of drunk passengers, his phone is chiming at him happily.

You received a tip!

Joe almost grains as he taps in, steeling himself for the unhappy acknowledgement that he was probably really going to be paying for that crack about breaking up with his fiancé. Literally paying.

But the feeling leaves him at the sight of it.

Custom Amount: $100.

He grins down at his phone like a psychopath, rubbing across his face at the absent realization he was flushing up, and nodded into the acceptance. At least now if they run into each other in the hall it won’t be awkward.

Joe has thanked you for your tip

#webgott #satellite of love is a webgott song now sorry lou reed #this au sponsored by Uber #modern!au

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nightklok · 3 years ago

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Title: 'Cause I've been hurt so many times, I need someone who will try to soothe me, and not use me Pairing: Abigail Remeltindtdrinc/Pickles the Drummer Rating: E (For one future smut scene but chapter one is T-rated) Tags: Fake dating, Additional tags on AO3 Summary: Abigail considers herself great at her job; she knows how to make a successful album and her track record shows it. Dethklok proved to be the biggest challenge yet but she learned to overcome any hurdle thrown her way. However, what she didn’t anticipate was Seth’s second wedding. Specifically, Pickles’ mother getting on his case about finding a date to the wedding. Logically, she decides to be his fake date for the wedding. Just fake a relationship for a few months until the wedding then 'mutually' break it off; should be easy enough. It’s just the most renowned music producer and most popular musician fake dating. Surely no feelings or trouble will rise out of this.

Chapter One on Ao3 Here! Chapter one is also under the cut

Abigail had learned quickly that working with Dethklok was oftentimes like walking through those Halloween hay mazes blindfolded. Years upon years of working with pretentious celebrities, tight deadlines, and challenges that were thrown her way would never prepare her for working with them. For a group of five who lived together and knew each other the best, it didn’t always mean that they thought the same way and one would think they finally learned what worked best for them after years of working. But for some reason, they continuously went with the same method that never worked out because it seemed like the best to them. And clearly, it wasn’t.

She was no stranger to challenges so when Dethklok proved to be one, she did her usual process of breaking through to them. And that was asking questions to the right people. Charles stated it was just how they were. Knubbler said they were a bunch of dumb jackoffs so she had to hold the least amount of expectations for them...and lower it. Melmord had offered her weed because it would be the only way she could ever handle working with them. Twinkletits had suggested unresolved trauma and perhaps banana stickers would solve it.

She would find soon enough that everyone was right in their own suggestions but it didn’t mean she followed through with any of them. It didn’t take long to figure out that scheduling private sessions with each individual band member was a lot better compared to them being together only to yell at each other. Within a few days of the focus being more on private sessions, the difference being made was incredible. They seemed to thrive better under one-on-one time and having the group meetings at the end of the day so they could go over their progress had helped incredibly.

The only problem that she couldn’t solve was their old habits. Most of the time the sessions were either forgotten or recordings had to take a week or longer just to make sure the sound was perfect. They were still five people with different ideas of how the album could be better; it would be hard to find common ground and even harder to get them to be responsible under her schedule.

It didn’t mean every member was a thorn in her side though. Pickles and Skwisgaar were some of the more responsible ones compared to the rest. They’d sometimes forget to show up but that was expected.

Skwisgaar did have a certain way of speaking about music she couldn’t quite understand but she found herself slowly understanding him the more they recorded his sessions. It became like learning a new language but less on the fun part. Luckily, he was never one to speak much regardless; music did the talking for him and that was a good enough language for them to understand.

And Pickles, despite his years of experience under the spotlight, wasn’t the pretentious celebrity she expected him to be when they recorded together. He did his work without much complaint, left when she was satisfied and his first-week recording for a song would be the last as there generally wasn’t much left for him to retake. He normally trusted her judgment and any criticisms offered were never given for the sake of belittling her. It came from a place of experience and knowledge and it became something she quickly respected him for. He still occasionally missed his recordings, however, but with how time felt so rapid in getting things in order, she didn’t notice he actually began showing up more often.

He couldn’t show up one day due to a last-minute scheduling conflict that day and since he had a valid excuse, she didn’t expect him to show up at all. Deciding to not let those hours go to waste, she spent it contacting Knubbler for a quick meeting. He sent her the tracks he finished for her to listen to and she offered her critique. They were tossing track after track at one another to see what sticks and eventually something did. After sending him the latest track to fix-up by the end of their meeting, she checked her email to go more into the boring parts of her job.

She loved her job without a doubt but it didn’t mean there were some parts she actually dreaded doing. Emails were one of them; business language, having to wait up to a day for a response, and everything else just to show she was a professional despite her name being tied to so many influential things. Maybe she was famous enough to sign off her emails with a ‘k thx’ but didn't quite know if it was even worth the impending backlash soon after. She was known for her professionalism, not lack of.

But the album wouldn’t be finished for quite a while so she simply had to make do with what she could. Regardless, the marketing director wanted to listen to one of the demo songs. The day was winding down, she just had to spend an extra hour or two in the recording studio, then she could grab food, take a long bath and watch a movie until she fell asleep.

The motivation of food and a chance to relax was enough to look through her emails once more as she played the finished track. She didn’t hear the knock on the door but she did hear the door opening but didn’t turn around. She had expected it to be a klokateer doing some late cleaning.

“Abigail?” A voice all too familiar filled the silence. As she turned around, Pickles closed the door behind him quietly as if to not disturb her (even though he already did). He seemed a bit sheepish as he put his hands in his pockets to play off a calm attitude, “I just wanted to know if you still needed me.”

“Well, it’s not the first time you didn’t show up to a session, Pickles.” She answered a little too bluntly. It came off harsher and she had almost expected him to be offended by it but he shrugged instead, “Charles told me you wouldn’t have been able to come today, anyway.”

“Okay, yeah, that’s true I have bailed out on a few sessions, but I was planning on showing up to today’s session. I promise.”

She folded her arms, leaning back against the chair. It was new territory having Pickles actually show up when he wasn’t meant to. It didn’t seem like he was there for anything else too, “And you really mean that?”

He casually held up his right hand in a three-finger salute, “Scout’s honor...if I was a Boy Scout, that is. But I’m here now. That should be enough proof, right?” He grinned at her before he walked to the recording booth, “I got this beat stuck in my head I wanna get out of my system. Won’t take too much of your time.”

She glanced at the clock; it was still early enough to record a few takes and he did seem excited to record. Might as well give some time to humor him, “Alright, you get one hour to impress me.”

“I’ll make it count,” He finished her sentence as he closed the door. Taking the drumsticks and headphones, he took a seat in front of the drum kit and quickly prepared, “This is for uhhh...what did we call 8?”

“ Uncensor My Songs On The Radio You Fucking Tool. ”

“Yeah, that’s it! Anyway, I think I figured out why it doesn’t fit on my end. Can you play from the beginning?”

“Sure, get ready in five seconds” It took just a few clicks to get to the song he wanted. She let the metronome play for just a few seconds for him to get the beat before hitting the record button as soon as the song played.

As soon as the song played, Pickles began without hesitation. The sound was much different compared to his other takes...and it fit perfectly as he had said. She waited though; listened to every hit and snare intensely for a mistake to come and screw his take over. But that moment never happened and before she knew it the song was over.

“How did I do?” He grinned at her as he wiped his sweaty forehead with his arm, “Not bad for one take, right?”

Impressive. “Not bad at all. I think this might be just the parts we needed to get the song to be finally done,” She answered as she hit the record button to pause the recording. She made sure to save the file and backed up the file into her work email. (Charles had requested she make backup copies of each recording without the boys’ knowledge when she began working. Just in case).

She watched as Pickles removed his headphones but quickly stopped him, “It’s great but I think another take would be good to have, right?”

“Oh C’mon! Isn’t it great as it is?!” He pleaded. He was foolish to think he could impress her with just one take.

“I’m not denying that it’s great but I’m sure you would be able to do another take if you got it all memorized, right?” She answered. The tone of her voice just shifted slightly enough to indicate a challenge and that’s all that Pickles needed to hear from her.

“Don’t think I can do it, huh?” He smiled back at her as he put the headphones back on. It was a challenge he could easily win, after all, but she was never one to even let him believe it would be easy. The rush of it and the feeling of adrenaline starting to kick in made it all the more tempting, “Well get the song playing again. I won’t stop until you’re satisfied.”

“You’re gonna end up tiring yourself out, Pickles.”

“You can let me off the hook then if you’re so worried about me.” He answered with the signature lopsided grin he gave out as freely as sweets, “I think there are some restaurants around that we can go to if you still haven’t eaten yet.”

Bargaining and banter had become something that they learned to communicate with. If there was anyone else in the room, there was no way she would be talking so loosely with him. They were alone however and would be for a long time so it became easier to shake off the layer of professionalism she had to keep up with all day. However, the remaining part of her brain that was still in work mode rejected his offer despite the temptation being far too great, “Not a chance; you walked yourself into this one...But if you wow me just early enough, I might take you up on your offer.”

“Get the song playing again and tell me when to stop.”

The truth was she was already satisfied by the third take but she did let him keep going at least two more times for good measure. By the time she said he was finished, Pickles’ legs were sore but it was nothing he wasn’t used to. Five takes weren’t bad at all and he found himself confident in the progress.

“Not bad, Pickles. I think there’s something there I can take for the recording.” Abigail answered with a grin that he tiredly returned.

“Hm, not satisfied yet, or just wanna keep my ego down?”

“Maybe.” She watched him put the headphones and drumsticks away before exiting the recording studio.

“I wanna hear it though. Play the best track.” He went to the mini-fridge and offered her a beer which she declined.

“Just get me a coke. The drink, I mean. I’ll play the best track in a second,” She had already labeled the track files by a number scale and taken notes so she didn’t need to relisten. He set the can of coke beside her as he watched her take a few moments to look through the notes before finally deciding on the best track. She quickly spliced it in with the demo and hit play.

Pickles already flopped on the couch, on his second can of beer already somehow (She didn’t know if it was impressive or horrifying). He didn’t say anything while the song played, leaned back against the couch. When it ended he asked, “Is that the best one?”

“Well, I think it is. It’s the one that doesn’t even need much editing. The others are just as great too, in all honesty,” She answered as she checked her notes briefly. She could go into great detail over the tracks, maybe even explain why the tracks were a perfect fit for a song but she didn’t want to ramble. And besides, he seemed a little bit bothered, “But what do you think?”

“Hm. Not as good as I thought it would be,” He said a little sullenly, “Nate’s gonna wanna delete it. I just know it.”

“Are you sure? I don’t think he’d want you to delete them especially when he knows you’re having a hard time with this song. They’re all pretty good but if you want to talk with Knubbler since he’ll be doing most of the editing, just give him a call tomorrow.”

“Do you even think it’s good?”

“Of course. If I wasn’t satisfied enough, I would’ve had you still record a few more takes.”

That was an answer that seemed to satisfy him at least as he didn’t say anything else in retaliation. He only asked to play the track again, and finished his second can of beer, “I guess if you think it’s fine, I’ll take your word for it. It’s probably getting late isn’t it?”

“Come in tomorrow and you can listen to it again. If you really aren’t satisfied with it, you can try again,” She offered. She checked at her watch briefly; 10:45 PM. How has it been almost two hours already?

“Yeah, I think that sounds like a plan. We can put a stop to it for now. But uh, sorry for wasting your time.”

She shrugged, “You’re not, Pickles. Don’t worry about it. I would’ve left around this time anyway.”

“Okay, if you say so.” With a shrug, he shifted his mood and stood up. He didn’t seem to sulk longer than he usually did, probably because it was already late and they were both tired, “Did you still wanna eat?”

“Don’t you usually eat with your bandmates?” Usually, mealtimes were the quickest and easiest ways to find them if she needed to. Having memorized that schedule, she knew that dinner was about a few hours ago...or a few hours from now depending on what they did that day.

“Yeah but not today; Offdensen really had us doing interviews all fuckin’ day. I don’t think I’ve eaten lunch yet and I guess you didn’t get dinner either?”

“Nope. I was planning to, anyway.” A late dinner invitation was not rare to get but it was rarer to get one by someone she wouldn’t mind having dinner with. Their relationship with each other was always professional, and he also had years of experience in the music business outside Dethklok. It always felt refreshing to talk to someone who shared the same interests as her. She put her laptop away in her briefcase once she saved all her files; her night was officially done, “Is there someone even able to make dinner at this time?”

“There should be. If not, there are probably leftovers in the fridge. Or we can order pizza, it’s completely your call.”

She slung the briefcase over her shoulder, following him to the hallway. After shutting and locking the door to the recording studio (Charles gave the only keys to her and Knubbler), she walked with him to the kitchen where the conversation of dinner slowly shifted to music and almost anything they could cram in the next two hours.

And by the end of that night, the late dinner invitations became frequent and she had accepted every single one. He always hung around by her last hour of work, even if it meant staying up late. It only meant ordering food to be delivered to them as Pickles convinced her to watch a film she hadn’t seen in years or her convincing him to watch one of her favorite guilty pleasure sitcoms.

For the most part, it was assumed she was just working with him on the album. No one really needed to know about the breaks where they shared a beer and gossiped about the celebrities they had interacted with before. As far as Knubbler and everyone knew, she was using most of the two hours to perfect his recording.

But just a few months later, the hangouts and late-night dinner invitations stopped in their tracks with no warning whatsoever.

She wondered at first if it was something she had done. But then it began affecting his work and it was clear he was distracted about something. She knew and learned enough about him that he was a perfectionist when it came to the drums; he was always a person who wanted to do his job correctly when it came to something he really did care about at the end of the day. Music was his passion, after all. And if he didn’t have passion for the things he cared about the most, then something was going on.

“Do you want to take a break, Pickles?” She asked. It was currently her fifth time asking the same question that week alone.

“No, it’s fine. Let’s keep going.” He answered as he picked up his drums and waited for her to press record.

She didn’t say anything else after that and she let him leave after a few hours. He left before she could get a word out and she would be met with the rising feeling that something bad was about to happen and recordings that not even Knubbler could salvage.

A few days later, she figured out what happened. It took a text from the staff group chat and an email that contained a video to piece the puzzle together.

“Hey, Neon Genesis Evan gail ion. It’s me, your coworker, Seth.”

She did not watch the rest of the video (sober) and instead asked about the video in the group chat. Seth was never invited to the chat for the same reason Melmord was not invited to the second wedding of Seth and whatever poor woman he got roped up with.

Just by that video and conversation, she had connected why Pickles might be upset. It had something to do with the wedding, sure, but what specifically about it? Was it that he had known the girl Seth planned to marry? She wanted to ask so many questions but limited herself to three. But even those three questions were quickly narrowed down to one, then none at all when she realized it would be harder to pry anything out of him.

But, as advised by Knubbler, it was best to keep going. He’d probably breakthrough midway through a recording session. Being someone who knew to listen to others, she listened to his advice for at least a few more days.

She waited those few days and then two more. It was clear whatever was bothering him was still going to continue bothering him until the end of time probably. She had to talk to him against their better judgments; it felt like the only option available to her.

It was a session that lasted over seven hours and she was sure both of them were getting frustrated on their own ends. No amount of coffee or whiskey could even cure the boredom and annoyance that was of a session that would lead to nowhere. It was better to just cut things short and talk about it. If not even the drums could help him feel better, how serious was the situation?

She pressed the intercom button when the song finished and she immediately hit delete. There was no way to salvage the song, “Pickles, would you mind if we talk?”

His expression was perplexed for a moment before he resigned to his fate, not giving much of a protest, “Alright,” he answered with a sigh. He set his drumsticks down as he walked out of the booth, taking a seat by the couch.

She was never all that good at talking to people about feelings in all honesty. And he seemed like a rather emotional guy, to begin with. There were a few moments of awkward silence between them as she tried to find what a good way to start the conversation would be, “I think we know that you seem distracted lately. What’s been bothering you?”

And despite all her mental preparations that he would find it hard to pry open, he actually opened up quite honestly, “Well you know about the wedding right?”

“Yeah, he invited me too.” She answered as she thought back to the weird video message Seth had sent her. She wondered if she should even make a comment about that but decided against it, “You don’t want him to get married or something?”

“I don’t care about that. He could get married as many times as he wants; He’s still getting a fucking Vitamix. But it’s not about that,” He answered, “It’s my mom. She’s been blowing up my phone all week asking about who I’m bringing with me to Seth’s wedding. Keeps talking about how I should settle down, find someone to marry, or whatever. But I don’t have the time to date!”

She stared at him and didn’t say a single word until he caved in.

“Okay, time’s not the problem but dating while you’re this famous is fucking hard. You must’ve seen that public divorce in ‘89 right?”

She definitely remembered. She was on college radio at the time and had taken over someone’s show. It was either some debate or public opinion show and that was probably one of the more shows she had ever experienced. Did it help that she was a fan of his music back in the day? No, but she would not admit that “I kind of knew about it. It sounded like it was an awful divorce for you. But you were only nineteen, weren’t you? You shouldn't stop yourself from dating for something that happened when you were just a teen.”

“Nineteen, thirty-five, ninety, does it matter? It was as awful behind the scenes as it was in public. I’m not gonna bore you with that but basically, I’m done with dating. And she won’t see that!”

“Well...maybe one of your bandmates can be your date?” She offered.

“Nah, been there, done that, it didn’t work out. And plus, would you even fake date any of them?”

She thought for a moment, “Yeah, smart choice.”

“It’s gotta be someone she has never met before to make it more believable.”

“I see,” Abigail paused. She had waited, expecting almost, for Pickles to look at her, drop the ‘except…’, and plead for her to be his fake date but he didn’t. He only reached into the mini-fridge to pull out a beer, offering one to Abigail who accepted. She didn’t like the beer and had to hide her disgusted look as she took a sip and tried to set it down casually.

The conversation had died out like that. She kept on sipping the beer and hoping he would say something. But he didn’t and it became clear that she had to be the one to speak up. There was only one possible solution to it and it felt like the most obvious., “If you can’t find anyone else, I can be your date.” She offered.

Pickles looked at her like she had asked him to play the drums with his mouth, “I respect you too much to get you involved with my family. They’re like...leeches that suck the fuckin’ life out of you! This is a me problem, you don’t need to fix that. ”

“Well...it’s affecting your drumming too.” she pointed out as she looked at him, “And trust me, I know what I’m getting into. I can handle it, Pickles. I work for Dethklok and I’ve certainly been through a lot more than just a wedding party. I appreciate your concern, but let me help.”

“Abigail...” He almost pleaded.

“I owe you, remember?”

He clearly did remember, “but-”

“He invited me anyway, Pickles. I’m still going out of work obligations; I promise this won’t bother me at all.”

“But you know it’s gonna have to be a lot more than just going to my brother’s wedding right? My mom will want to meet you and who knows what other folks are gonna try and meet you too.”

That was one thing more terrifying than the branding ceremony. Was it even worth it to complete the album?, “Then basically we’d just be faking a relationship until the ceremony?”

“I guess yeah...and that’s...three months from now? You really don’t-”

“As I said, I know what I’m getting into. I want to help you and if we have to do this for a week, months, or a year, it’s okay with me.”

Pickles said nothing for the longest time. He held the half-empty can of beer, nulling over his options that probably didn’t help with him being slightly intoxicated, “You won’t hate me right?”

It caught her off guard almost but she remained on track, “Of course not. I promise,” If she hated him, that would mean there would be no more all-nighters together but she wouldn’t admit that.

“Okay. Just so you know you can back out of this anytime, I won’t be offended if you do.” He said finally and that had sealed the deal, “But we need to keep this a secret which I know is probably obvious enough. If the guys find out, they’ll never stop teasing us about it.”

“But if all we really need to do is just please your parents, I don’t think that will be a problem. Don’t worry about me, Pickles; it’ll be fine. I promise that I will back out if I don’t want to do this anymore.”

It was clear he was unsure still and she didn’t know how much more convincing he would really need. But perhaps that was something to let sit and process; and hopefully, in time, he’d warm up to the idea enough to feel like a weight was lifted off his shoulders.

There was nothing else she could really do at this point she knew. It was a quick resolution but a slow payoff and she had done what she could for the day, "How about you take the rest of the day off? If you wanna give recording the song a shot tomorrow, we can."

“Alright,” He threw out the half-finished beer can, beer spilled from the can, some of it splashing into the sides of the trash can and leaving a potent smell of beer. She made a reminder to herself to have a klokateer replace the trash can later. But it would be quickly forgotten when he spoke up again, “I uh, appreciate it, Abigail. I really do."

"It's not a problem at all. I hope you know that you can always turn to me if you need anything?"

"I do, yeah, and uh the same right back," He paused for a moment, "I'll take you out to dinner sometime if you want. It's the least I can do."

"That would be nice but I don't need a big fancy dinner. I'm fine eating here, and watching a movie." She answered. She wanted to speak more but her phone began ringing and she saw that it was from Charles, "I should probably take this."

"Oh yeah, go ahead. And uh, if you wanna grab some dinner again you know where to find me. I'm sorry I bailed out on you this week, I'll make it up to you." He quickly left before she could speak.

All alone in the studio, she took a moment to compose herself. Refusing to give herself even more time to let what she had gotten herself into sink in, she answered the phone.

It was only three months but somehow this new task felt like it would end up being the hardest task yet. But, she had an album to finish. It was just part of the job, right?

#metalocalypse #abigail remeltindtdrinc #pickles the drummer #picklegail #my writing #goddd im not sure about this but this has been sitting in my drafts for nearly...4 months now its time to release it sdflj

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 4 years ago

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Hii!! I saw that your requests are open again so I hope u don't mind cosidering mine!! Maybe some Hcs of the THH bois being sad and their s/o comforts them and when they think they're asleep, they sing them a lullaby? the idea makes me very soft 👉👈🥺

Oop this idea makes me v soft, too ;w;

..........

Taka

You knew how emotional Taka tends to get, even over simple things like you reminding him that you appreciated him in your life.

Though one day, you find him laying on the bed, crying into a pillow.

The fact he neglected to greet you when you came home was especially concerning, since he always did that.

So you lay down beside him and hug him closely, asking what’s wrong.

He just buries his head into your chest and sobs about a quiz he failed, believing his life was ruined because of it.

Anyone else would’ve probably laughed at him for bawling his eyes out over something that insignificant.

But you never do.

You understand he takes a lot of pride in success...and that he could be harsh on himself for little mistakes.

Instead you hold him tighter and reassure him that one bad grade doesn’t mean his future is in shambles.

Eventually he calms down, thanking you for those words he often needed to hear.

Before seemingly passing out from the exhaustion of crying.

You pet his black hair for a bit, and then quietly sing a short lullaby.

In response, his arms hug you tighter.

Mondo

Usually, he’s scary when he’s upset.

But around you, however, he looks like a kicked puppy.

This especially becomes true when he comes home after an argument with his gang.

He takes a shower and comes back out to greet you, his infamous pompadour now shoulder-length brown hair.

Now he looks like a wet kicked puppy.

If you ask him what’s wrong, he’ll just say it was another stupid fight with his gang, who still doubt his capabilities as a leader.

You knew he was trying his best to keep them in one piece--fulfilling his late brother’s dying wish.

So you understood he could take those insults to heart.

He doesn’t wanna go into much detail, knowing he’ll just get angrier (and probably break the coffee table for the third time this week).

You just pat your lap, inviting him to lay his head down there for a while.

He obliges and just closes his eyes as you run your fingers through his hair.

It soothes him to sleep real fast.

And you hum a small song to help ease his mind and forget his frustrations.

Leon

It’s quite easy to tell when he’s sad, even if he doesn’t say anything directly to you.

Oftentimes, it’s when you enter the bedroom or living room and see him curled up with a pillow, eyes moist and red.

The moment he sees you, though, the pillow’s on the ground and he opens his arms up.

It’s like he’s saying “hold me right now or I will die”.

So you oblige and let him cuddle with you like a teddy bear, already feeling better now that you’re here.

He’ll talk about what’s bothering him if you ask.

Usually it’s either growing pressures of baseball practice or his own insecurities eating away at him.

Though sometimes he just says he wants to sleep the day away.

You’re fine with that, and you help him relax by singing a bit of a lullaby.

All he can pay attention to is your calming voice as he dozes off.

After the nap, he feels a lot better.

Hifumi

It’s typical for him to come crying to you about being bullied again.

Though when he asks if you truly loved him...that becomes a shock to you.

Of course you did! What idiot would try to tell him you didn’t?

You swear this is the last time anyone would mess with your big and lovable fanfic writer.

Usually the perfect solution is to sit down on the couch with his head in your lap, while you brush away his tears and list all of the things you loved about him.

No really. You have an actual list you keep in case someone has the nerve to ask you what you see in him.

He might get choked up all over again as he realizes he shouldn’t listen to those idiots.

At some point, he does fall asleep, and you catch yourself humming the tune of some anime song you recently heard.

Funny enough--he sometimes mumbles the lyrics in his sleep.

Yasuhiro

You find him sitting alone in his room, looking sad as he stares down at a crystal ball in his hands.

At first you scared him when you rush over to ask him what’s wrong (fortunately you save him another million yen by catching the ball before it hit the floor).

But once he calms down, he just says he feels like a “useless idiot” during trials sometimes.

He wonders why Monokuma insists everyone participates if he can’t contribute anything good.

What breaks your heart most is when he asks if you think he’s an idiot.

You just take his hands and reassure him he’s far from that.

You remind him that he did bring up some important topics that helped piece the crimes together.

So he’s not useless at all.

He feels much better after those reassurances, though also tired since he was doing a lot of thinking.

So you two just cuddle, and when you think he’s fully out, you quietly sing a random song.

Though he mumbles a “wow you sing rly good” before dozing off.

Makoto

Sometimes the guilt of class trials weighs heavily on him.

Especially when he leaves knowing he basically sent someone to their death.

Even though he knows he has to if everyone else wants to survive.

But that doesn’t stop the nightmares he has of the victims and blackeneds taunting him, blaming him for their deaths instead of Monokuma.

Fortunately, you sleep with him on those nights.

And when he wakes up suddenly, you’re quick to bring him into your arms.

Though if you’re a heavy sleeper, expect to be shaken awake by a teary-eyed Makoto who was scared you died.

When you’re awake, you comfort him by resting your chin on top of his head, while he listens to your heartbeat.

A reminder that you’re still alive.

And you end up singing a short lullaby once he falls back to sleep, ensuring he stayed asleep knowing you were safe.

Chihiro

Knowing Chihiro, it was easy for him to get upset over many things.

But all day long, he’s kept things bottled up, afraid you’d see him as “less manly”.

Though it all backfires horribly when he’s working on a program that keeps having pop-up errors and other glitches.

It’s just one after another and he can’t fix them all.

He feels like he’s faltering in his talent--the one thing he was confident in.

How could he be an “Ultimate Programmer” if he couldn’t fix simple errors?

Sometime later, you find him crying at his desk. You can easily tell your poor bf is overwhelmed again.

So you carry him away from his computer and to the bed, where you both cuddle.

He ends up breaking down into tears again, spilling his heart out to you--the guilt of ignoring you, the frustrations with the program, everything.

And you hold him and listen, letting him talk before you give him your own reassurances/advice.

Eventually, he passes out from exhaustion, and you take the opportunity to sing something to help him calm down more.

Byakuya

There’s not much of a sensitive side to him. He learned to toughed up in the face of many hardships--all to rightfully earn his position in the family.

But not even the heir himself was immune to the stress, suffering, and doubt--especially when he was all alone.

And when you saw that mask crack for the first time..it was a shock.

You came home earlier than expected one day, and you saw the prodigy pacing around the living room, trying to dry both his glasses and eyes while taking shaky breaths.

“You’re better than this...stronger than this..y-you’re..gonna be head of your family...”

The crack in his voice prompts you to intervene.

Of course, he tries playing it off as nothing, though you take him to the couch anyway and hold his hands.

You don’t say or do anything; you just let him calm down by himself, with your presence being more than enough.

Once he does, you convince him to rest for a bit. He just scoffs and says he already planned to.

You hum a song when he finally dozes off.

Your voice is actually soothing to listen to, though he’s not gonna outright say it.

But you know it from his small smile.

Kiyondo

Despite his brash attitude and tendency to mimic Mondo..you knew that deep down, your beloved Taka was in there--still heartbroken and grieving.

It became more apparent when you found him crying in the bathhouse (around the same time he was when he first went there with Mondo).

He shut himself into the sauna, but with luck you managed to convince him to leave and go to your dorm.

At first he aggressively cuddles with you, though as you brush away the hot tears that streaked down his face, his voice becomes less rough and more...soft.

Like his old self.

He admits he’s scared you’ll be taken away from him, too.

But you just hold him, promising him you will be okay...and you’ll help him through this, no matter what it takes.

It’s hard convincing him to sleep, but when he finally does, you just stay awake for a bit longer, petting his hair and singing a short lullaby.

By the morning, he’s back to normal--still gaunt and depressed.

Yet he seems more hopeful, as he remembers you’re still with him.

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