#instead of 4 walls of my apartment and a lot of screens | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wouldntyou-liketoknow · 1 year

Text

Day 13: Bloodbath

(Note: the characters you’ll be reading about here are more fan-egos that belong to me. None of them will be referred to by actual names; instead, they will be organized by the same number system as the one in ISWM. This story is NOT related to ISWM Lore at all, the numbers are literally just inspiration easter-eggs. If you know your lore, then you won’t have any trouble figuring out who each character is based off of. As usual, the amazing @sammys-magical-au helped me shape this story, and the character L7181 is a nod to one of their lovely Lixian Egos!)

(Disclaimer: the horror game IRON LUNG is the property of David Szymanski. While I did create the characters in this story—except for The Convict/Mark’s Character/M2702, technically—the story itself is obviously inspired by the game’s elements. I STARTED WRITING THIS IN SEPTEMBER, AND AS OF RIGHT NOW, MARK’S IRON LUNG MOVIE HASN’T COME OUT YET. I HAVE NO WAY OF KNOWING WHAT THE MOVIE’S PLOT IS GOING TO BE LIKE. THIS STORY IS NOT AN ATTEMPT TO PREDICT ANYTHING. THIS IS LITERALLY JUST BASED OFF OF AN IDEA I HAD WHEN THE MOVIE WAS ANNOUNCED. SO PLEASE DON’T TRY BLASTING ME WHEN THE MOVIE INEVITABLY HAS DIFFERENT ELEMENTS THAN MY FANFICTION. AND EVEN IF THE MOVIE GETS RELEASED BEFORE I POST THIS STORY, I’M STILL KEEPING THIS STORY BECAUSE IT TOOK A LOT OF TIME AND EFFORT. IT’S JUST MY PERSONAL IMAGINING OF WHAT THE MOVIE COULD BE LIKE.)

(Trigger Warnings: blood/gore, claustrophobic environments, isolation, flashbacks/implied trauma, imprisonment, physical violence, implied self-harm, slight mentions of eating/drinking, thalassophobia, mentions of suffocation, strong language. Please let me know if I missed anything.)

Day 1 Day 2 Day 3 Day 4 Day 5 Day 6 Day 7 Day 8 Day 9 Day 10 Day 11 Day 12

It felt like hours had passed since the Iron Lung was lowered into the bowels of AT-5’s ocean, and yet M2702’s stomach was still being wracked with that instinctual dropping sensation. He shifted in the provided chair, practically leaning on the control panel in order to maneuver the submarine. The bright lights were harsh against his eyes, but they were far easier to handle than the darkness at the rear of the vessel.

He’d already had to retreat back there three times. Three stops aligned with the markings on the map, three photographs collected. That was the whole goddamn point of this voyage, after all. And each time he did, his instincts swore that something in the shadows would pin him to the floor and tear him apart. The brief illumination offered by the camera or terminal’s screen did absolutely nothing to ease that paranoia.

The walls were so rusty that M2702 was pretty sure he’d contracted tetanus just by looking at them.

Not that he’d have enough time to find out.

He found himself recoiling out of nowhere, shaking his head as an oily sensation bloomed under his face to announce that a vein somewhere in his nose had burst. A thin scarlet line slowly but surely seeped down over his lips and chin.

___

Pink.

That was the first thing he saw after his capture.

The space station he’d been dragged off to was a vast expanse of steel platforms and iron tunnels. He’d expected that, of course. It was no secret that iron was the C.O.I.’s pride and fucking joy. What he hadn’t expected was for the station’s interior—or, everything in the section he and the other convicts were being held in, at least—to be tinted the pastel color of candy.

But it most certainly was.

The walls, the floors, the tables lining the commissary, the intercoms in the corners of the ceilings, the plastic tubes containing very tiny amounts of freeze-dried food that were given to him and the others twice per day.

Everything. Pink.

(Even with the way supplies were dwindling, he had to admit: this probably helped enforce the strict policy against alcohol in space. Spending any amount of time here with a hangover would kill you.)

It truly seemed like the only non-rose-colored things in here were A. the headache-inducing fluorescent panels, B. the stainless steel sinks and toilets set up behind privacy screens in the far corners of the holding cells, and C. the almost scrub-like outfits required to be worn by anyone who was here against their will.

That might’ve been the part he hated the most. The goddamn uniforms.

Before he’d been beaten to the ground at the Filament Station, he’d worn a special type of clothing made from hydrophobic materials that also happened to be reinforced and self-cleaning. Now, he had to dress in simple garb that would’ve been found on Earth: a thin, itchy gray shirt with trousers to match, as well as a pair of laceless shoes that were determined to chew blisters into his ankles with every step he took.

To top it all off, his arms had been wrapped in a pair of black bracers, the left one adorned by a white patch that silently announced M2702 in a bold font. They reminded him of the blood-pressure cuffs he always saw in pharmacies as a child. Whatever fabric had been used to make these things, it was tough and tight; the skin hidden underneath felt so damn sore.

But hey, at least he wasn’t alone in that particular suffering.

Hours after he’d been taken prisoner, after those stupid bastards were finished examining him and looking over his vitals, he was practically shoved into one of the station’s excuses for a cafeteria. Other people had been there—more members of Eden whom he just hadn’t worked closely enough with—milling about, all turning their heads in near-perfect unison at the sound of the heavy steel door sliding shut behind him.

He kept his expression neutral, glaring right back as he maneuvered around the tables. By the time he’d collected his meal (a water bottle and a small vacuum-sealed package of what was apparently dehydrated chicken breast), everyone else had resumed either silently eating or having muted discussion. . .except for one.

A woman sporting a head of long, gently-curling chestnut hair. She waved to get his attention, nodded when he gestured toward himself, and beckoned him over to one corner of the area. As he cautiously drew closer, it took little time for him to realize just how petite she was despite obviously being an adult. She also appeared to be ill; her big brown eyes were watery and red around the edges, while her skin was a few shades paler than it probably should’ve been. The white patch on her left-arm-bracer read R1126.

“You’re from Eden, aren’t you?” She asked barely a second after he sat down across from her.

He hesitated before nodding. “Yeah, I am.”

R1126 wrung her hands. “So he was right, then.”

“Who’s ‘he?’” M2702 inquired. “What was he right about?”

“My brother. He said he saw a few people in his sleep a couple weeks earlier. The way he described one of them sounded exactly like the way you look.” She paused, glancing here and there as she drummed her nails on the table. She seemed to be bracing herself for something, like someone who knew from experience that there was a dead animal in the middle of a path they needed to take every day. “He saw the battle at the Filament Station.”

M2702 felt his mouth open and close a few times. He leaned back, blinking and slowly shaking his head. “That’s not possible. The attack only broke out a few days ago.”

“He dreamt about it,” R1126 responded in a very exasperated manner. Her tone became rueful and concerned as she continued. “And you’re right: it shouldn’t be possible. But it’s been years since he started having nightmares. Up until now, they’ve just gotten worse, much more frequent. And the things he remembers happening in them. . .”

The seconds felt painful as they dragged by, jeering at M2702 as he stared at his new conversation partner. If this had taken place decades prior, he probably would’ve rolled his eyes at her, maybe even scoffed. Her claim was outrageous; he couldn’t just believe it.

He never would’ve believed that so many of the stars and planets could just blink out of existence, one after the other, either.

He didn’t want to believe in something like that.

But he had to.

That was the reason for all the tensions between Eden and the C.O.I., the reason he’d wound up here in the first place.

“Where is he now?” M2702 wondered aloud. He wasn’t sure why he’d asked that, of all things. Then again, a person who had regular nightmares laced with a premonition or two was probably someone to look out for. “And why’re you telling me all this?”

“In solitary confinement. He was taken in two days ago, but he’s supposed to be let out sometime today.” R1126 chewed her lip. “I want you to understand. . .when you’re able to meet him. . .”

Her eyes suddenly grew wide, the grim anxiety that’d just wormed its way into them quickly warping into panic. She gasped for air, drawing her arms closer—one hand hovered before her mouth, and the other clutched at her stomach.

“H-He’s not a bad person, I swear. All our time in this place has just made him scared. Desperate. Paranoid. I know he doesn’t want to hurt anyone. He’s just trying. . .”

Her movements were soft as she began to rock back and forth in her seat, visibly swallowing several times as though there was a literal frog trying to climb up her throat, “. . .to find a way o-out of here. . !”

M2702 halfway rose from his chair. He’d learned the warning signs of vomiting at an early age, but his thoughts still seemed to sink through his skull for whatever reason. What was he supposed to do for her? Give her water? Alert someone else and lead them to her?

R1126 must’ve seen the way he glanced at the counters across the cafeteria, because she shook her head. “No, no. Don’t bother; even if they had the right medicine around here, I doubt they’d give it to me.” She straightened her back, gingerly rolling her shoulders as her hands found their way back to the table. “I-I’ll be fine.”

M2702 squinted at her, moving slowly as he sat back down. She sure as hell didn’t seem fine. “What’s wrong? What happened to you?”

R1126 stayed quiet for another moment. She started drumming her nails again, her eyes drilling through him with the exhausted demeanor of someone who’d developed a habit of expecting the worst of people. “I have no idea, honestly. I’ve just been able to. . .taste things in the air. And I’m not even sure what those things are.” She paused, shuddering. “But they’ve been so horrible. Even if I’ve adjusted somewhat, I just can’t seem to go a day without nausea.”

M2702 felt his brow furrow as the information sank in. He’d heard about plenty of sensory disorders in his time, but this was in a weight class of its own. The way she described her condition reminded him of how snakes could taste scents instead of just smelling them.

Again, a voice in his head demanded to know where the logic could possibly be, to which another voice chided it for still trying to find logic in times like this.

“It’s stuck with me for years now. Since before I was taken prisoner,” R1126 continued. Fear integrated itself with the pain and frustration in her expression. Her voice tapered down to a whisper: “I think the Rapture caused it. I think it caused my brother’s nightmares, too.”

More silence festered between the two of them.

Eventually, M2702 thought to ask the million-dollar question: “Were you two part of Eden?”

R1126 flinched, tilting her head at him.

“Sorry, it’s just—” M2702 sighed. “I was limited to working with a specific team, and I can’t recognize your face.”

R1126 fidgeted in place for a long, tense moment. “. . .We were traveling to Eden. Before the Rapture, we’d inherited a small ship, and we were using it to planet-hop for personal research.” Her voice hitched on Rapture, as though the word was a bundle of thorns caught between her lungs.

M2702 knew that feeling all too well.

R1126 took a quick, deep breath. “After we found out how all the things we’d managed to document were just disappearing, we had to keep changing course and sending out distress signals every day. Sooner or later, we remembered hearing about the tree gardens on Mars, so we figured that might be the safest place to land. While we were making our way there, we came across this station. Some of the people here answered our call and welcomed us inside. But once we explained our plans to them. . .”

The tremor in her voice grew worse. Her eyes began to glisten, clearly more out of emotion than sickness. “They got hostile. Wouldn’t let us leave, seized our ship and everything we had left on it.” She lowered her head, furiously scrubbing her tears away before they could start flowing.

Something awful stabbed its way through M2702’s ribcage. One part of him wanted to place a hand on her shoulder, to try and offer some support as she grounded herself. But another part ordered him to stay still, insisting that he was past the point of being able to help.

R1126 briefly ground her jaw as she resumed eye-contact with him. “I’m not sure how long we’ve been trapped here since then. It’s just gotten so hard to keep track of time.”

M2702’s train of thought came crashing to a violent halt. He and his colleagues already had their suspicions of the C.O.I. being corrupt, of its collectivist ideals being more focused on cult-esque control than conservation.

But to hear that this organization had been imprisoning civilians. . . people who had absolutely nothing to do with what was going on at the Filament Station. . .

Without warning, the same booming, metallic hiss he’d heard not too long ago raced through the air. M2702 turned in his seat just in time to watch another man being pushed into the cafeteria.

The new stranger—P0620 was printed on his left-arm-bracer—was the same height as him, fair-skinned with short, chocolate-colored hair that appeared to have been pulled on a regular basis. He gained his bearings quickly enough, fixing whoever was on the other side of that door with a venomous glare. Just as he began venturing further into the room, a blur manifested in M2702’s peripheral vision. That blur turned out to be R1126, who rushed over to P0620, tugging at his arm. P0620 wasted no time embracing her, briefly closing his eyes as his grimace melted into something that managed to be relieved and anxious at the time. Almost as if he thought she’d vanished in his absence the way so many planets and stars had.

It didn’t last.

The duo exchanged a few hushed words, and stress came flooding back to P0620’s expression as he scanned the area. M2702 couldn’t help but slightly recoil when that gaze landed on him. P0620’s eyes were bloodshot, wild, impatient. And when he began stalking toward him, it was all too easy to realize just how calculating they were.

M2702’s instincts told him to get to his feet, to be on-guard. The other man quickened his pace, only stopping once he was a few feet away, hands half-outstretched.

“Which side started firing first? How many casualties have there been so far?” P0620’s tone was sharp, almost searing. Despite never having known him before, M2702 could somehow tell that his voice wasn’t meant to be like that. It alone was damning evidence of trauma. “How exactly did they catch you? Did you kill anyone before that?!”

M2702 narrowed his eyes, holding his hands out in a defensive gesture. But before he could actually respond, R1126 stepped in front of him.

“Stop,” she commanded, her voice becoming solemn in time with the way her eyes hardened. “You’re not doing this again.”

P0620 sputtered, glancing back and forth between his sibling and the new inmate. “Wha—I have to!”

R1126 shook her head. “No, you don’t. And even if you did, I still can’t just let you. Not until you’ve actually calmed down, at the very least.”

P0620 took a few deep breaths. One of his eyes twitched as he began kneading at his temples. “Being calm hardly matters anymore.”

“Not the point. You really think I don’t know how the punishments have been getting worse? It might not be much longer before those bastards start torturing you for no reason!”

“That’s why I need to get a better understanding of the visions!” P0620 threw his hands up as his voice shot through a good few octaves. “I saw the conflict before anyone else did! So, if someone involved with it would actually answer my damn questions, then maybe I could use that info to put more pieces together when the next one comes!”

M2702 cautiously stepped away, moving in order to see both of the sibling’s faces.

“That doesn’t mean—” R1126 tried, only to cut herself off, dipping her head. She cleared her throat, grit her teeth. “You can’t just—”

A low scraping noise seemed to crawl out of her mouth. Her breathing grew more and more ragged. Both her and her brother’s eyes grew to the size of dinner plates.

“N-no—not here—I need. . !”

And just like that, R1126 collapsed, clawing at her neck as she dry-heaved on the floor.

All the frustration evaporated from P0620’s features, replaced by panic as he cried out and knelt down beside her, trying to help her stand.

___

It didn’t matter that the front window had to be kept closed due to the pressure down here. It was pointless to have a window at all. Just hearing the gallons upon gallons upon gallons of blood churning and stirring around the Iron Lung would’ve been enough. Even if he hadn’t actually touched any of it yet, he could still tell just how viscous it was.

That wasn’t it, of course.

Relentless heat oozed through the submarine’s framework, making its interior humid even before one of the pipes spat out a plume of steam. This almost made M2702 miss the uncomfortable chill that always seemed to be present in the space stations he’d visited before.

That infamous metallic stench was nearly palpable in the air: to the point that he could taste it with each breath he took. He wondered if this was similar to what R1126 had been suffering through.

___

“Y’know, my training really made me a light sleeper,” M2702 mentioned. “I never had insomnia or any of the typical sleeping problems growing up. But when your job requires you to travel so far and be aware for as long as possible, you just learn to wake up as quickly as you drift off.”

He quietly paced the floor of his cell, which almost could’ve passed for an enormous display case. Three of the walls surrounding him were glass, adorned by uniform rows of holes just barely wide enough to fit his index finger through. The fourth one, the one closest to the mattress he’d been lying on a couple minutes ago, seemed to be made of metal.

They were all tinted that goddamn specific shade of pink, obviously.

“It was tough, but I managed. Can’t really say the same for the others I shared a unit with, though,” M7202 continued as he leaned against the privacy screen in the corner. “So many of them always tossed and turned for hours; that didn’t always keep the rest of the room up, but it could still be so aggravating sometimes. . .”

He peered out from behind the screen, glaring into the glass cell on the right of his.

A woman sporting pale skin and long, straight black hair scrutinized him from behind a pair of thin-rimmed glasses.

“. . .It’s safe to say you would’ve been a problem back there,” M2702 concluded dryly, ignoring the chill that raced down his spine. “Look at you. You’re not even pretending to sleep.”

“There’s no point in doing that,” C4560 answered. While she too made sure to keep her voice at a whisper, her words still dripped with acid. “I told you: I can’t sleep anymore. No matter what I try, my brain just won’t allow it. I’ve gotten to the point where I can’t even close my eyes for long periods.”

M2702 snorted as quietly as he could. “Yeah, well, I’m struggling to see the merit in taking that out on me.”

Out of all the other prisoners he’d come across so far, C4560 was undoubtedly the most tense.

Much like R1126 and many others, he hadn’t been able to recognize her. The first evening he’d been locked into his holding pen, he’d asked her a few questions; her replies had been terse, as well as a little too infuriatingly cryptic for his taste. (It sort of made him sympathize with P0620.)

He’d only learned three things only about her: she’d never been a member of Eden, she’d apparently been kept captive here much, much, much longer than anyone else in this particular branch of the station, and. . .right, the whole loss-of-ability-to-rest-and-not-be-such-a-damn-creep thing.

It shouldn’t have been possible.

Even if science still hadn’t learned exactly how long a human could survive without sleep, M2702 was certain that his next-door neighbor should’ve been dead by now, with the limited explanation she’d given him.

And yet, here she was: breathing, speaking, watching.

Not that she looked healthy at all.

Her cold brown eyes almost looked sunken thanks to the bags that had long-since formed right beneath them. The skin in that area seemed like it held so much more pain than any bruise he’d ever witnessed before. Of course, that did nothing to change the fact that it felt like she was stabbing M2702 every time she glanced at him.

“What did the Rapture do to you?” C4560 asked for. . .what was it, the thirteenth time in just five days?

M2702 scowled at this, marching closer to place his hands against the glass. “Where the fuck do you get off? It didn’t do anything to me.”

She hummed, stepping forward to touch the barrier of her own cell. “No, it did. You just aren’t aware of your symptoms yet. Maybe they’ve been slow to develop for you.”

“Even if that was true, it’d be none of your damn business.”

“Oh, you mean, just like you didn’t have to try and ask about my business when you got here?”

M2702 could feel his knuckles turning white. He then heaved a guttural sigh, lightly shaking his head. “Fine. Let’s say there’s a modicum of truth to that. How exactly can you tell that there’s something wrong with me? And how are you so sure that it’s because of the Rapture? What, were you there to see it happen? Were you the one to accidentally flip the wrong goddamn switch and set it all off?”

Other than the way she raised an eyebrow to such blatant sarcasm, C4560’s face barely moved. Sure, it was dark in this area right now, but M2702 had seen her under those obscenely bright fluorescents elsewhere in the station. And in broad light, she still gave the impression that a dozen or so vipers were coiled up together inside her head, looking at the world through her exhausted yet piercing eyes, patiently waiting for someone else to make a wrong move. . .

“I think I’ve just learned to tell,” she eventually declared. “That’s the only thing you can do when you have so much time and nowhere to go: you learn. One way or another. The process isn’t pleasant—or, it isn’t anymore, at least. But that’s all we have left.”

M2702 felt his face soften by just a smidge. He’d only known C4560 for a few days, and he already knew that he’d never understand her or what her damage was.

But there was absolutely no denying just how real that last statement was.

C4560 studied him, then carefully slanted her head to the side.

“Well, I hope you manage to learn something before your symptom is ready to start working. I get the feeling that it’s gonna turn you inside-out,” she mused. “Yeah, it’ll just drag all your blood and bones and sinew out for everyone to see. You’ll survive, but you’ll have to be so much more careful with doing anything after that, won’t you?”

It was everything M2702 could do to not start shaking. “Oh, go to hell,” he hissed as he tore himself away from the glass. “Go straight to hell’s fucking boiler room.”

There was a pause.

And then. . .C4560’s lips twitched before slowly, ever-so-slowly, curling into a grin. “Hell?” She repeated. She dipped her head as a strange, quiet chuckle seeped through her lips. “Saying that makes it sound like there’s an alternative.”

The words had barely slithered into the air before a chorus of terrified gibbering erupted from across the room. For the first time all night, C4560 took her eyes off of M2702.

M2702, meanwhile, crept over to the front and foremost wall.

“DON’T LISTEN TO THEM! THEY’RE LYING TO YOU!” P0620 shrieked. He seemed to be clawing at his head. “THEY’LL JUST TAKE YOUR LUNGS AND DRAIN THEM INTO THE ENGINES!”

It wasn’t hard to see the other row of glass cages opposite of his and the two flanking it. Through the darkness, however, it probably shouldn’t have been so easy for him to make out the form of P0620 as he thrashed and quaked on his own mattress in his own cell.

“THEY’LL TAKE YOUR EYES FIRST! THEY’LL CHOOSE ONE SET AND KEEP THE OTHER SET TO BOIL!” P0620 howled again. In the cell next to his, the outline of R1126 was very clearly shivering, digging her nails into her ears as she rocked back and forth.

“IT’LL SET THE BLOOD ON FIRE! YOU’LL BE PART OF THE OCEAN! YOU’RE NOT HIM!”

It took a couple minutes for the screaming to taper down a notch. P0620 didn’t go silent; he was still murmuring, still yelping, still trying to escape whatever was attacking him from inside his eyelids.

M2702 backed away, skulking over to his mattress before C4560 could return her focus to him. He wasn’t sure why he bothered.

He could tell that she was still watching him through the obstacles between them.

___

The long, droning bellow felt like icy needles stabbing into M2702’s skull.

It made his intestines burn.

It was trying to persuade his spine to tear itself out of his skin, to slither out between the rusted walls and into the ocean of gore.

If that were to happen, he supposed his vertebrae would be right at home.

He’d already taken so many pictures of enormous carcasses that had sunk down to the very bottom. They were just piles of bones; he couldn’t tell whether flesh had eroded away or been picked clean by smaller creatures that worked themselves into a frenzy once their meal’s original killer swam far enough away.

It was almost a surprise that he flinched at the feeling of a droplet plopping down on his head.

Another crimson tear fell from the ceiling, landing against the control panel with a tiny splat.

And another. . .and another. . .

___

M2702 would’ve been lying if he said he wasn’t proud of himself for keeping track of the days. He knew his internal clock was suffering, and he knew that suffering would only get worse the longer he was kept here. But for now, he made an effort to go along with his new, enforced schedule.

He’d watched more and more convicted people manifest into the space station. Most were severely wounded in one way or another. About half had been unconscious upon their arrival, and half had been awake and struggling much like he’d been.

Of the ones he’d seen being brought in, he only recognized two. He hadn’t worked with them directly, but he could remember seeing their faces, passing them in hallways back on Mars. One of them had black hair almost as long as his own, the bangs of which sometimes covered one of his warm amber eyes. The other was an adult, but still clearly younger than the majority of people around him, lean yet muscular, boasting stark-white hair and grayish-blue eyes.

They’d quickly been labeled L7181 and E9342, respectively.

L7181 had been the only new prisoner to not outwardly fight. Oh sure, he’d snarled at the people who’d flanked him—if looks could kill, both of those bastards would’ve been reduced to decorative splatters on the pink floors—but he’d still walked in time with them, his face shifting between bitter resignation and very obvious resentment at being guided along as though he couldn’t move for himself.

And after that, L7181 barely spoke at all. He made a clear effort to keep some amount of distance between himself and everyone else, his expression always cold, frustrated, disinterested. (Not that he could be blamed for that behavior, of course.) Even when M2702 saw that same spark of recognition in the other man’s eyes once they’d eventually settled on him. . .well, nothing really came of it, unless you counted a curt nod.

It took what M2702 estimated to be a month before that disposition ripped itself apart.

He’d been pacing up and down the precious few corridors he had access to—it was in between meal times right now, but the cafeteria was just too goddamn crowded for him to think—when he heard the distant screaming.

“UUUUUAAAAGGH!”

Now, screams weren’t at all uncommon in this place, but when the source grew closer and closer to where M2702 had paused, he realized just how. . .different these ones were.

“AAAAIIIEEAAAAAH!”

They were horrified, desperate, almost completely unhinged.

They were nearly on-par with the way P0620 shrieked in his sleep.

And they were all coming from L7181.

M2702 was just barely in time to duck around one shadowy corner.

“NO! NO, NO, NONONONONOOO!” L7181 careened down the hall, not even seeming to gasp for air in between his cries. “NOOOOOOOOOOO!”

A few of the station’s researchers were in hot pursuit. They shouted after him, but their words were almost totally drowned out by all the noise he was making.

M2702 watched from his impromptu hiding spot as one of them finally caught up to L7181, hands slamming into his back, throwing him to the floor and pinning him down. L7181 didn’t stop screaming, thrashing with more energy and strength than M2702 had ever seen in him before.

The rest of the scientists circled around him, helping the original one keep their hold. Then, as a unit, they half-carried-half-dragged L7181 further down the passage, over to the door that led to one of the cell rooms.

M2702 didn’t know why he decided to follow them. It wasn’t even a concrete decision; from deep within his guts, a quiet voice just demanded that he take advantage of this chaos in some way.

So, he crept along after the group, managing to slip past them all without being seen once that door slid open. He retreated around the now empty glass cages, pressing himself against the wall, trying to make himself as small as possible.

L7181 was hauled over to the cell he’d been assigned to—one right next to P0620’s, on the opposite side of R1126’s. Still shrieking. Still fighting. One of the researchers typed a code into the keypad on the cage’s sliding door, then shoved the panicking man through.

The extra force wasn’t even needed; L7181 sprinted into his cell the second its door was opened. He lost his balance, tripping at the center as the threshold was sealed once again, but it was obvious that he didn’t care. The only thing he seemed to be focused on was movement. So, he crawled. Crawled as fast as he possibly could until he reached one corner, where he pressed himself into that space where glass connected to metal.

He didn’t go limp there. No, he clawed at the walls, squirming with such violence that he could’ve very well been mistaken for having a seizure.

The researchers watched him for what felt like an hour, shaking their heads and murmuring amongst themselves. Then, they finally filed out of the cell room, one by one, none of them even glancing in M2702’s direction.

M2702 stayed down, stayed hidden for another moment. Once the sound of footsteps truly disappeared from the other side of the wall, he slunk out, trudging along the space in between the rows of cages until he was hovering near L7181’s.

The convict in question was rambling now, a mess of terrified phrases set in Portuguese leaking through his teeth. His screams had gotten a bit shorter with a few more seconds between each one. “I-I can hear them! I can hear them! I CAN HEAR THEM!”

“Hear. . .what?” M2702 called with more hesitation than he’d care to admit.

L7181’s head shot up, his frantic eyes now fixed on the man outside of his cage. He didn’t stop spasming.

“The things on AT-5,” he eventually rasped. It truly seemed like he had to force the words out. “The monsters living in its ocean!”

M2702 felt his heart skip a beat. The ship that’d transported him from the Filament Station to this one. . .through one of its few, pressurized windows, he’d gotten to take a brief look at the enormous pool of scarlet.

It would’ve been impossible for anyone to not know about the sea of blood that resided on the moon nearest to this station.

Just as it was impossible for anyone to doubt that there were lifeforms inside that sea. . .

“He means The Gongoozler,” another voice suddenly called from across the room, wracked with manic giggles. “He’s gotten a chance to listen to The Gongoozler and all the other screamy-scaley-squishies swimming around in the plasma.”

M2702 startled, glancing over his shoulder. It took an embarrassingly long few seconds for him to remember how E9342 had essentially been put in a timeout earlier.

The young man leaned against the door in his cell; one of his eyes was swollen shut, a fresh bruise still blooming around it. His grin seemed to stretch quite literally from ear-to-ear as he surveyed his fellow inmates. “You should be grateful, y’know. I’ve always wanted to hear The Gongoozler’s call for myself! Quick, what’s it sound like? Please, please tell me!”

M2702 chewed his lip, now fluctuating between dread and irritation.

Back at Eden, E9342 had made a bit of a reputation for managing to stay positive and productive in such bleak scenarios. It was a bit odd, yes, but it’d been pretty damn refreshing at times.

But ever since he’d been brought here, that trait had changed in an awful way. His smiles were now twisted and eerie. The jokes he insisted on constantly making were dark and morbid. And the giggles that he apparently couldn’t go five minutes without emitting sounded. . .poisonous.

“I don’t know what I did wrong,” L7181 stammered, screwing his eyes shut. He held one trembling fist close to his mouth, biting at the knuckle of his index finger. It hardly took any time at all for him to draw his own blood. “I’ve just gotten their attention. Th-they know I can hear them. And now they’ll NEVER. STOP. MAKING. ME. LISTEN!”

C9342 snickered and nodded along, dragging his nails down the length of his forearm over and over and over again, leaving harsh red lines in his skin. It wouldn’t be longer before he started bleeding as well.

“People have ALREADY DIED DOWN THERE! I heard a HUMAN screaming and drowning! I-I-I heard metal being torn to shreds and scattered!” L7181 lurched forward, curling further into himself. Even his eyes seemed to be shaking, all the way down to the pupils, which had shrunk to pinpricks. “Someday I’m going to wake up outside the station! I’ll be falling as soon as I open my eyes and the blood will reach up and wrap around me and drag me all the way down to the deepest pits it has! Oh no, oh no, oh no, n-n-no!”

M2702 felt his hands tangle themselves in his hair. He reeled back from the other cell.

The world seemed to be moving without his consent.

His vision was growing blurry around the edges.

“I’m gonna die,” L7181 choked out. He covered his face in both hands, his screams having transformed into sobs. “I’m gonna die, I’m gonna die, I’m gonna die, I’m gonna die, I’m gonna die, I’m gonna die, I’m gonna die, I’m gonna die, I’m gonna die, I’m gonna die, I’m gonna die, I’m gonna die, I’m gonna die. . .”

“Yeah, but not exactly,” C9342 mused, his face almost thoughtful as he chortled. “We all will, but it shouldn’t be too bad. We’ll get to see each other again in six years, nine months, four days, twenty hours, thirteen minutes, and thirty-seven seconds. The time will go faster than you think, I promise! Then we’ll all be together.” He cackled, seeming to choke on his own saliva. “With The Gongoozler, of course.”

“Will you shUT UP ABOUT THE FUCKING GONGOOZLER?!” M2702 raged, halfway closing the distance as he stormed over to E9342’s cell.

E9342 flinched, but he remained standing. His sanity-breaking smile grew even wider. “You think I DON’T WANT TO?!” He practically howled with glee as he punched and kicked at the glass in front of him. “You think I’m CHOOSING THIS?!”

He started ramming his head against the barrier with a chorus of dull, heavy thuds. Along with a loud, sickening CRACK as blood started gushing from his nose. More and more bruises were already forming on his face. But he just kept on laughing, struggling to speak or breathe. “YOU JUST DON’T FUCKING GE-HEHEHE-ET IT!”

___

With all the weight it had gained, it was no surprise that the Iron Lung was now dragging along the ocean floor rather than gliding above it.

M2702 was up to his waist in blood. He could feel it dripping from his hair, trickling along his face. His chest heaved in and out as he waded through it.

The air had become so thin, so rancid. He could barely even take in a full breath anymore.

He was completely enveloped by a horrific gurgling sound from the outside.

When the submarine had first started leaking. . .the blood had been cold. Cold enough to feel like thousands of tiny knives against his skin as it seeped through his clothing.

But now. . .now the blood was warm.

So warm.

Too warm.

Nearly scalding.

M2702 knew that he couldn’t think anymore. There was no point.

His brain was well-past not receiving enough oxygen. He knew he wasn’t going to resurface.

Even so, he knew that the blood needed to be as hot as it was.

After all, the ocean itself was alive.

It didn’t just house the individual organisms that’d been taunting him for so long, that’d been swimming closer and closer to him and ramming the Iron Lung's outer walls with their tails or fins or teeth.

This ocean was a living creature.

And soon, very soon, M2702 would get to join that life.

@sammys-magical-au @altegos

18 notes · View notes

aeste · 2 years

Text

Since we are celebrating the first anniversary of Nu:Carnival, here's to you a completely ot list of my five favorite h-scenes of the game.

I started two days after launch and in this long year I've grinded 200 rooms with the strength of a thousand suns and a lot of patience, so here's my rambling about this crappy game that makes me cry at every cliché put up like I've never seen one in my life <3

5) Quincy Forest Guardian Room 5

I know, all the SR h-scenes are a bit cringeworthy, both in length and in how they are written, and it was only by re-watching them that I actually realized how much they have improved over time.

Anyway, this one is hands down my favorite because I love how super soft Quincy is with Eiden despite how at first impression it may seem otherwise. In general all of Quincy's rooms are super wholesome, even those of Eclipse event, but here a little bit of the atmosphere, a little bit of the location, make it even more intimate.

By the way, being precisely among the first scenes, compared to all the other members you really notice the difference.

((Then excuse me but Quincy is an absurd simp for Eiden, like, he keeps going along with any of his shit without blinking from the second zero?? iconic))

4) Edmond Sweet Aroma Room 2 || Kuya Kitsune Dream Room 5

I KNOW There are supposed to be only one scene for point, but I am weak and indecisive so I put both💀

Let's start with Edmond, I'm going to put my hands up and say that all the rooms in this event have emotionally destroyed me, BUT!

This scene because a) it finally removed the Hamletic doubt we all had about Edmond whether his nipples were really inverted and not just a collective mass hallucination and b) because it is like Room 2 of White Lover (Valentine's Day event) but better. Edmond is a tsundere and so far we all know that, but this was actually the event where he embraced his bottom being and seeing him so surrendered in Eiden's arms behind some trees... Yes.

Usually room 2 of events don't say much to me made a few exceptions (COFF KUYA COFFCOFF DANTE COFFCOFF YAKUMO AT HALLOWEEN) But here I swear to you the first time I saw it I gasped so hard I had to watch it a second time instantly to make an indecent amount of screens, and flood my friends' memory with endless spam on WhatsApp.

Kuya, on the other hand, there is only one thing that makes me love this room madly namely: the moment when Eiden asks him if he can take off his glasses because he wants to look at his face, and he goes along with it by doing so🥺

It's a single gesture, but the very fact that he listened to him instead of continuing to fuck him against the wall>>>>

I really liked Kuya in this event even though he was still an unqualified asshole; but he has his own traumas about abandonment and stuff so we forgive him. By the way those glasses in his skin keep killing me, it was like the last thing I expected and I don't know if I love the fact that they look so good on him, or the endless amount of memes that resulted then LMAO

(( Also bonus because Eiden is adorable in this event and in this scene in particular <3))

3) Dante Icy Equilibrium Room 5

Dante is like my biggest ??? within this game ahahaha, I like his design a lot but at the moment I'm still not too fond of him.

BUT HERE MY GUYS Apart from the fact that I LOVE the skin of this event despite the dubious gravity with which the coat is on his shoulders; for the first time his rooms are not just endless scenes of him fight with Eiden every second to prove that he's the best like children, but I really felt a little more depth, and the fact that there was the first kiss between the two of them AAAAAH turned the whole thing around because it went to a search for even emotional intimacy if you can call it that. The whole part where Eiden drags him into the room, and he laughs as he loosens his hair, and he teases him because that's his first kiss and Dante is pretty much as inexperienced as Edmond even though he doesn't look>>>>

I was moved. It was beautiful and I'm glad that Dante is slowly overcoming this terrible wall of arrogance to mask his weaknesses!

Then, really, he is super cute in this event so easy win in my heart.

2) Kuya Afternoon Daze Room 5

Okay guys, Kuya again because this old shit attends to any form of control I have and makes me cry as if I were five years old and seeing The Lion King for the first time.

Anyway, honorable mention to the walking stick, rightly so after glasses for eyesight, the arthritis stick is also important. It cracks me up that until now he has literally been an old man watching others sweat and bust their asses to organize the tea party LMAO

Rush this room unseemly, obviously , and everything I would have expected, EVERYTHING, given even the premise of Room 2, was not what I actually read.

GUYS This room is 18 minutes of Eiden trying to make out with Kuya with all the force in the world. That is, his only goal is to stick his tongue in the old fox's mouth, and Kuya goes along with him only to push him away half-impressed/scared when he realizes he's enjoying it a little too much. Kuya be like "ehww what's that, feelings??"

Kuya completely wasted after this event, I'M WHEEZING; By the way the way he looks at Eiden is illegal, it gave me goosebumps!!! Oh, and of course after breaking out dick all last event blabla young master you can't hug me blabla NOW not only is Eiden all over him with his legs folded in the worst weave ever that not even playing tetris, but while kissing him he's holding him so close and even running his hands through his hair.

I will keep screaming until the end of time, I tell you.

1) Edmond Sweet Aroma Room 5

So. At this point no one is surprised probably ahahah but I think I will never recover from this room.

Months later it remains the high point of my experience on Nu:Carnival, and not only because Edmond's skin literally generated panic for a week as soon as they revealed the artwork, but also because it kicks off what I like to call the "kissing revolution"

Before this room, this event, there were very few onscreen kisses, maybe like two? One with Olivine and maybe one from Quincy; the rest a few scattered among various rooms of R cards like Kuya or of course Blade's treacherous smoochies. Which was consistent with the fact that IN THEORY this is a porn game, no one cares about context more than the BL. IN PRACTICE after 8 months and three rollercoaster events of excitement, the devs started to make EVERYONE kiss. Guys, there has been the hard lemon fair from August to December: Quincy, Olivine, Dante, now Kuya; resulting in a deepening of the clan member and their stories, and this gives me so much joy every time I think back on it.

ANYWAY BACK TO US.

Edmond in this Room getting his hair untied and slammed against a tree ( what can I say but YES) but most importantly letting Eiden kiss him after he practically confessed that he never did it and didn't understand the point of it because he was forced to be repressed all his life that he never desired intimacy with anyone.

And I was already in tears here, but what destroyed me were the last three minutes when Eiden and Edmond are talking and Eiden at one point takes Edmond's face in his hands, looks at him, and leaves kisses on his eyelids, cheeks, nose, and mouth. And Edmond looks at him and says nothing AND I SWEAR, I SWEAR I felt in my heart, in my bones the realization that he had in that moment. An awakening, an endless gay panic and I closed that screen with the knowledge that Edmond had just become my fave boy and that I would probably sell a kidney to pull all his banners.

Well, this endless rambling has come to an end!!! Honestly, I still have so much more to say but I will contain myself for this time; see you next year with the updated version which honestly, if I already have to reduce myself like this at the first banner it will all be a mess, I can already feel it.

Bonus: if you have the time and will, make your own list too!!! I am super curious and would love to read it <3

#sorry for the bad English lmao #is so late here and obviously is not my first language #nu carnival #nu carnival edmond #nu carnival eiden #nu carnival quincy #nu carnival kuya #nu carnival dante

40 notes · View notes

telomeke-bbs · 2 years

Text

BAD BUDDY FILMING LOCATIONS 7

This post is a continuation of my six previous ones on filming locations for Bad Buddy (linked here: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5 and Part 6).

I was originally planning to post about other locations at Rangsit University, but then all of a sudden a bit of searching on Google Maps flushed out a couple of locations that I had previously thought would be hidden forever.

They had been SO HARD to find that I'm frankly astonished they could have been found at all – but here they are nonetheless, thanks to some stubborn research and the scary reach of Google. They're Pat's post-graduation apartment and Pran's residence in Singapore. 😊

So instead of writing up the Rangsit University locations, I'm going to dive into these first because they could be really easy to visit if you're going to Bangkok – like the suites at Tinidee, you could actually stay in them subject to availability. 👀

PatPran's two apartments in Ep.12 were actually represented by rooms/suites at Jasmine 59 Hotel, located at 9 Sukhumvit 59 (Boonchana), Sukhumvit Road, Klongtan-Nua, Wattana, Bangkok 10110, Thailand.

(above) The Jasmine 59 Hotel, off Sukhumvit Road (near Thong Lor BTS Station) – it's a pretty central location, which was surprising to be honest (almost all the other locations in BBS were way outside central Bangkok)

The hotel's website (linked here) has lots of images with architectural details, fittings and finishes that match what we see in Bad Buddy. With these as a reference, it's easy to infer that one of the smaller rooms at the hotel played the role of Pran's Singapore apartment:

(top) Ep.12 [1I4] 2.41; (bottom) image extracted from Jasmine 59 Hotel's website (linked here) – the curtains, lampshade and (most tellingly) the window mullions are all a match (the image of the Marina Bay Sands was inserted digitally)

(above left) This image of a typical bathroom is also extracted from the hotel website; (above right) Pran's mirror at Ep.12 [1I4] 2.18 has the same horizontal lines at the top and bottom – these are actually frosted glass illumination strips that allow light from behind the mirror to show through (and his marble-tiled wall is also a match)

But it's really this YouTube video linked below that clinches the deal. It's a video of hotel staff conducting a viewing for Korean YouTuber Moojin Thailand, and it shows the actual suite at Jasmine 59 Hotel that stood in for Pat's apartment (Suite 2510). 😍 The viewing of Suite 2510 commences at timestamp 10.39:

youtube

The following are some images from BBS and the video above, for comparison:

(top) Ep.12 [4/4] 18.23; (bottom) timestamp 10.39 in the video linked above – the suite number and its illumination design (with a wash of light above and below) match Pat's

(top) Ep.12 [3I4] 2.30; (middle) Ep.12 [4/4] 18.21; (bottom) this image extracted from the YouTube video (timestamp 11.00) has all these corroborating details – the washing machine, the recessed perimeter lighting of the ceiling, the thin orthogonal moldings on the walls of the living area, the coffee table, the placement of the dark gray-brown curtains, the gray kitchen worktop and the cabinetry are all a match

(top) Ep.12 [3I4] 0.17; (middle) Ep.12 [4/4] 18.08; (bottom) this screen cap from the YouTube video at timestamp 13.30 has many corroborating details – the bedhead paneling and uplighting, the framed artwork at the side wall (with recessed illumination all around and a light switch panel in the bottom right corner), the bedside lamps, the curtains, the TV console with a raised rim on three sides only, the legs of the TV itself, and the stainless steel pull handle for the sliding glass door to the outdoor roof terrace

(top) Ep.12 [4/4] 14.07 – this is PatPran's own private rooftop, and is a callback to the venue of Ep.5's epic kiss; (bottom) this screencap from the YouTube video (timestamp 11.51) has the following matching details – the building in the background, the little tree in its tiered gray planter, the mullions of the windows above (at Level 26), the placement of the wall light, and the timber-grained apron tiling in front of the sliding glass doors

(above left) Ep.12 [3I4] 8.14; (above right) this image extracted from the YouTube video is really a perfect match – the lighting strips on the mirror, the overmounted rectangular washbasin on a gray vanity, the hand-held shower, the thin horizontal blinds, the towel rack, the placement of the shower gel/shampoo dispensers and the raised rim of the jacuzzi bath are all corroborating details

So here's one final image to round things off – it's from a building opposite the Jasmine 59 Hotel:

(above) In this exterior view of Jasmine 59 Hotel, Pat's apartment is at the location circled in yellow (screencap from YouTube video linked here, at timestamp 5.43)

In the image above, the distinctive building to the left is Laviq Sukhumvit 57, and it was one of the clues that led me to the Jasmine 59 Hotel.

Truth be told, the scenes set at Pat's apartment in Bad Buddy contained very little information as to the location's true identity. Most of these scenes were interior ones, which typically offer up very few leads to go on. And the few exterior shots that BBS did have were all shrouded by night (and thus were lacking in visual detail).

But hope came from another direction – the same hotel suite was also used to represent Kluen's apartment in the Thai BL Star and Sky: Star in My Mind. 👍

Star in My Mind had many daylit scenes on that roof terrace, which provided a clearer view of the surrounding buildings and which in turn allowed for them to be identified – and they were Laviq Sukhumvit 57, MARU Ekkamai 2 and the Bangkok Business Center.

Triangulating these on Google Maps was the final step to identifying the location of Pat's apartment (and also Pran's residence in Singapore) – at the Jasmine 59 Hotel in Sukhumvit, Bangkok. 😍

‌

[Afterpost Edit – here are the links to all the filming location posts:

Part 1 – The legendary rooftop, PatPran’s student apartments, their high school, the white arches behind the Engineering Canteen, the Zero Waste Village and various seaside scenes, their honeymoon suite, the hospital where Pat was treated for his gunshot graze, and the high school reunion.

Part 2 – Pat and Pran’s family homes, the Flagpole Bar, the car park fight location, and the Jae Si Curry House.

Part 3 – Various locations at and around the rugby field, including Pat’s photoshoot with Ink, the rugby bleachers, the iced milk tea (and green tea wave) picnic table, InkPa’s photography picnic, the old bus stop and the new bus stop. Also Khun Noppharnach’s pharmacy.

Part 4 – Pat’s Engineering Faculty (in and around Rangsit University’s College of Engineering).

Part 5 – Pran’s Architecture Faculty (Rangsity University’s School of Architecture).

Part 6 – Various F&B and commercial locations (eateries, shops, malls and a market).

Part 7 – Pat’s post-graduation apartment and Pran’s residence in Singapore.

Part 8 – Various campus locations filmed within Rangsit University’s Digital Multimedia Complex, including the auditorium and the Freshy Day Song Contest.

Part 9 – The LogTech Building and Pran’s architectural office in Singapore.

Part 10 – Locations for the Our Skyy 2 x Bad Buddy special episodes.

Part 11 – The apartment for rent that Pran went to view in Ep.2, the elevator scene with Pat just after the viewing, and Wai’s apartment.

Part 12 – PatPran’s elementary and high schools, as well as the location of Pa’s near-drowning.

Part 13 – Random locations (Pran searching for his lost earphones, the covered car park where Wai spied on Pat serenading Pran with Nanon's Love Score, the airport car park, the SouthTech U Library, PatPran's rainy day ointment interlude, their motorbike and truck rides in Hua Hin, the approach road to Uncle Yod's bar, the filming location for the music videos Just Friend? and Our Song, and Pran's street address in Singapore).

Will update this list if I can track down the hardware stores – the one remaining location still unidentified! 🤣]

#bad buddy apartments #bad buddy filming locations #bad buddy locations #bad buddy analysis #telomeke #patpran #YouTube

31 notes · View notes

quillkiller · 9 months

Text

top films of the year!!!

i was tagged by the lovely @sugarsnappeases who i’m casually obsessed with<3

i’m still on break but i couldn’t pass on the opportunity to talk about film!!!!

np tags: @themuseoftheviolets @stillagoodwitch @messerflower @godsofwoes @malakiwis

1. Alice Darling (Mary Nighy, 2023)

i watched this film at the beginning of the year and it hasnt been rated very highly but it was so fucking special and personal to me. it’s beautifully shot, focuses on female friendships and heavy on dialogue and im soooo weak for dialogue based films. it’s about alice who’s in an abusive relationship and her two best friends taking her to a cabin for an intervention disguised birthday celebration. i couldn’t tear my eyes away from the screen and i was so captivated by anna kendricks performence. the film manage to capture psychological abuse in a way that hit home to me so closely it was so well depicted and mirrored my experience with it in a way that left me speechless

2. Damned Queers (1977)

i watched this documentary for my bachelors essay which was about cultural memory as archive and gay meeting spots during the hiv chrisis. it’s a lovely little homemade short film about 11 homosexual men living together in an apartment in stockholm. we follow their day to day lives, their anarchist views on relationships and how they identify with socialism. the title of my bachelors essay is ’memory as the carrier of a hidden homosexual narrative’ focusing on gay life and meeting spots in stockholm in the 80s when HIV plagued these safe spaces (which weren’t ’safe’ at all) but homosexual men weren’t in any way allowed to control the narrative. so i looked through a lot of archived film, documentaries, ads, homemade movies, etc to try to put ligh on their narrative which was effectively hidden and neglected during the epidemic

you can watch it for free here!!

3. Saw (James Wan, 2003)

i had never watched saw before!!!!!!!!!! and this one made me insane!!!!!!! it’s genuinely so good and i was screaming pulling my hair out towards the end screaming and banging the walls. like i love the rest of the films too but not for the same reasons. like the first one is genuinely JAW DROPPING and so simple and so sexy. i love smart little horror films yummers

4. Priscilla (Sophia Coppola, 2023)

sophia coppola is sooooooooo back. SO BACK!!!! it’s very old school coppola and it was just. i was going insane while watching it. it’s so very heavily focused on priscilla (obviously) and her childhood and the parallell between her being in high school and elvis being an adult successful musician. it was unbelievably uncomfortable but so well done and so beautiful. cailee spaeny was fucking spectacular as priscilla and im very excited to see her in more things:,)

5. Ondskan (Mikael Håfström, 2003)

a classic!!!!! i watched it for the very first time this year and it was so fucking good. i couldn’t stop thinking about it for months!!!!!!! dark academia at its peak, violence, homoeroticism, incredible earth shattering acting. young royals could fucking never !!!!!!!

6. Oppenheimer (Christopher Nolan, 2023)

i fully expected to be on the barbie side of barbenheimer but instead i ended up being severly critical of barbie and oppenheimer wouldn’t leave my mind after i had seen it. very basic film dude behaviour of me but it was phenominal, showstopping, groundbreaking, never done before…….. every time i think about the film i get more obsessed with it. i genuinely loved it, the sound design was incredible, the visuals, the score. im sorry but im and oppenheimer truther til i die

#films

6 notes · View notes

quellmythirst · 3 years

Text

Going Up Part 4

Summary: Your friends finally push you to make a move. But Billy doesn't really get it.

Pairing: Reader x Billy Russo.

Words: 1.9k

Warnings: Swearing, drunkeness, a tiny misunderstanding.

AN: This took longer than I thought, but I think I like where this is going.

Part 3

//Y/N//

The mission took longer than it needed to, 4 days longer. Instead of doing their fucking jobs, your so called friends instead tried to pester you into calling Billy. Peter had found his number when you had looked him up the other day. Also finding out lots of other details about him, no wonder he always seemed so cold. You knew what the military had done to your friends, you couldn’t imagine what it was doing to regular veterans. With that and the two most inquisitive avengers having met the man, they decided you needed to make the first move. It wasn't until Sam showed up to your hideout that they finally started doing their actual jobs, because apparently it was now Sam's turn to tell you how to win him over.

Rolling your eyes at them as they drove away, hollering at you to just bite the bullet and ask him out. You stepped into the building, your eyes droopy from lack of sleep and the dark hour of the morning you prayed for bed. It was nearly one am and you were grateful that most people were asleep at this hour. There was no need for polite conversation with Mrs Hathaway down the hall. Half wrapped up in your phone you didn't see the hard wall that your face rammed into.

“Fuck,” you say, rubbing your fingers over your squished nose.

"My bad, I stepped back as you were coming forward," Billy says looking down at you, his hand come up to hold your chin and he moved your face from left to right, "doesn't seem to be broken," your breath catches in your throat and you try to remember if you brushed your teeth before leaving.

"Why are you up so early?'' you ask, staring up at him. His hair was a mess, sweat trickling down his brow, dressed in all black and was that concern on his face?

"Work," he coughed, letting go of your face, "are you alright?" He stepped back into the elevator and you followed.

"Let me walk you to your apartment. It's the least I can do," he offers after seeing you lean onto the wall. Your eyelids feel heavy and you think maybe you should have taken that extra shot of coffee Steve offered before you left last night.

"Sure, what's the harm," You accept, feeling your eyes droop and your brain fog, ignoring the sudden beeping going off in your pocket.

The rest of the ride is quiet, until you get to your floor and your phone starts ringing. Wilson, the screen says, you answer the call knowing they’re quite likely to storm the building to make sure you got home safely.

"You make it upstairs ok?" Sam asks

"Yeh, just about to," you slip on your pants and Billy catches you, "nearly there," silently thanking him with a nod as you try to steady yourself against Billy’s strong arm.

"Let me help," Billy says, sliding his arm under your waist. Unfortunately Sam heard him.

"That him?? Ask him out, do it now," you hang up the call, way too tired to deal with Sam and his antics.

Billy lead you to your apartment, his arm holding yours, steadying you all the way. Your other hand clings to his bicep, your head resting on top of it while your eyes struggle to stay open. When you finally reach your door you’re quick to let go of Billy, deciding instead to lean on the doorframe while your brain tries to make words in your sleepy state. When you unlock the door, your brain mostly goes to fight or flight mode as you ask, "Thanks, I know we didn't get off on the right foot. Would you maybe like to grab dinner with me sometime?" Hopefully he'll say no and that will be the end of it. But instead-

"I'd love to, how's Friday night?" Billy beams, his hands brushing against your cheek. Friday, that was nearly 2ish days away. That would give you long enough tomorrow to debrief and then another day to prepare and all of tomorrow morning to freak the fuck out at the prospect.

"That'll work, I'll see you at 6," you smile, trying to keep your excitement inside your throat, before turning around and flipping your body on the couch. Billy started to close the door, but not before taking a little sneaky look at your apartment, just Incase. He memorized the layout of the two doors to the left obviously leading to the bedroom and bathroom. “Good to know,” he whispered to himself. Hearing your soft snores coming from the couch, he snuck in as quietly as he could, throwing the blanket on the back of the lounge over you. His eyes gazing a bit more closely now that you were asleep, he spotted your SHIELD branded jackets on the coat rack, before slinking out of the room and locking the door behind him.

//Billy//

He's just about to push his number on the elevator pad when he sees you in the arms of yet another tall handsome dude. He thought he'd gotten over his jealousy. After all you were the one who asked him out, sure it was just a courtesy dinner. But maybe he'd be able to spin it his way once he had you alone.

But now there's this guy, who's got you slung over his shoulder and the jealousy begins to build in him. However it vanishes the moment his eyes lock with yours. You smile at him, a warm giddy and gleeful smile just as you call out his name, causing the man who's holding you to pull his head back.

"You know this idiot?" The man asks him, adjusting you on his shoulder, jostling you up and making that sweet laugh ring from your lips. He couldn’t believe the nerve of this guy, calling you an idiot right to your face. Though by your reaction, he assumed you were quite used to this treatment.

"Yes! He knows me," you cry, reaching out to him with grabby hands, "Stevie, this is Billy," you say and he gives you both a confused look. Stevie? Was this? He took in the man's face, his broad stature, factoring in the SHIELD merch he had seen in your apartment the night before and it clicked. Has Captain America brought you home? Were all these people, fucking avengers? Fuck, he couldn't believe it had taken him this long to put together.

"Oh," Steve says, raising an eyebrow and seemingly assessing him for fuck knows what reason. It certainly looked like Captain America was checking him out. He was too busy trying to rack his brain with this new information when he became distracted by your laugh again. His eyes lock on your normally pressed and firm suit jacket hung from one arm, your hair is hanging wildly from your face and those delicate little fingers of yours were still reaching towards him.

"Hi,” he says, his eyes crinkling at the adorable little pouty face you were giving him, while your tiny hands reached towards his lapel.

"Here ya go," Steve says, lifting you effortlessly off his shoulder and handing you to him, "she's your problem now," Steve smirked before turning about face and exiting the building. He spot’s Bucky in the car just outside the door, whooping and hollering at the pair of you before he heard Steve tell him to shut it, slamming the car door behind him.

“Another one of your friends?" he asks you, as you lay cuddled up in his arms, your cheek pressing softly into his chest as your arms encircle his neck.

"Yeh, that's Bucks husband,” you say as he reaches out to press the button to your floor.

"You smell like a winery," '' he says, his nose pressing into your hair.

"That'll be the wine," you giggle, pressing your face into the softness of his jacket, "you smell like a handsome,"

"How much wine did you have?" He asks, sure that it's more than a reasonable amount.

"Some,"

"Right, here's your floor," he says, setting you on your feet, your knees buckling and you nearly hit the floor but he catches you in time.

"I can do it," you shout, stomping a foot. He rolls his eyes, bending down in front of you.

“Hop on,” he gestures to his back.

“Wha..what?” you ask, was he going to give you a piggyback? Your teeth beam out of your face as you grin at him.

“You know, get on,” you don’t need to be told twice, climbing onto his back, your hands wrapping around his neck, while your feet cling to his torso. Feeling you this close was testing his self control, he could feel your breasts rubbing against his back, your soft legs sliding along his shirt. He focused on his feet, his hands gripping tightly on your thighs. Fuck, he wanted to flip you into the fucking wall, move his hands back to grip your ass, kiss you until you had no more breaths, no thoughts, only the feel of his lips on yours. But he needed to hold it together, so with one foot in front of the other, he was grateful he already knew which door was yours.

"14!" You shout when you reach your door and he begins to search you for a key.

"Are you going to be alright by yourself?" He asks, holding you this close for too long is making his dick swell, but in your current state you're in no place to reciprocate. Right now he was more concerned that you would trip and hit your head on something harder than his chest. He'd just have to hold off, hoping that you would still want to be this close to him in the morning.

Unlocking your door, he watches as you kick off your shoes, losing a couple more inches in height. He hadn't really noticed the size difference until now. He was a tall guy sure, but the way he was towering over you had his pants growing tighter by the second.

"Good night," he says, watching as you begin to strip off your clothes and wander around your kitchen. He tries to keep his gaze locked on the floor, but can't help but sneak a little peak at the beautiful body you'd been hiding from him under all those clothes for months on end, "I'll see you tomorrow,"

"Tomorrow?" He hears you murmur to yourself, before you spin and realize, "our date!"

Did you-? He had thought you'd meant it as an apology dinner, maybe grab a pizza and talk. But a date? It hadn't even occurred to him, he had hoped but didn't want to disappoint himself when you revealed he was a great friend and only a friend.

"Yeh, our date," he whispered, smiling to himself, "make sure to get some rest and I'll see you for our date,"

As he closed the door behind him, he could hear Britney Spears echoing through your apartment and he swore he heard you laugh, shouting to the air that you had a date with the hottest guy in New York. Blushing a little he turned, he needed to get up stairs and take care of the problem in his pants.

Part 5

Taglist:

@sirius-is-hot @eliwinchester-barnes @hscot94 @fictional-hooman @nyctophiliiiiaaa

#billy x reader #billy russo fanfic #female!reader x billy russo #billy russo x you #the punisher fanfic #reader x billy russo #billy russo x female reader #billy russo x reader #billy russo #billy russo imagine #Going Up

130 notes · View notes

wizkiddx · 3 years

Text

your voice

angsty vibe, requested by @hollandlover19 than you for th rq and hop this doesn't disappoint too much :)))

summary: tom says something so stupid and has to deal with the consquences

warnings: a bit angsty, but ends in fluff! argumnts and raising voices, I guess could be associated with panic attacks tho not written with that intention

//////////////////////////////////

“Oh, Y/n er sorry.” Harrisons morning dulcet tones were what you were awoken to with a groan.

Everything was achy, and your head was pounding, making you grumble in discontent as you shifted uncomfortably on the technically too-small-to-sleep-on sofa.

This was not the morning you’d foreseen even 12 hours ago.

Lockdown had been difficult for everyone, even removing the tragic health crisis. Being locked in with your boyfriend and his brothers and friends was, for the most part, amazing. Lots of laughs, lots of beers and lots of quality time that you usually didn’t get. But it was also intense.

Without a doubt, since you first got together, this was the longest time you’d ever had with Tom. And it had been brilliant, your relationship getting so much closer and just learning the subtlest intricacies about the other. In fact, when lockdown had been announced, you’d never lived together (the most a week-long holiday).

Though it was also like a pressure cooker, Toms rented house. When one of you were in an understandable but stubborn lousy mood, it affected the whole house.

Yesterday night had been the perfect storm. The weather was unbelievably scorching; your work had announced that they had to let some staff go because of the financial implications of the pandemic; a ‘mole’ had released personal details of your relationship.

And it was like a pot on the stove; everything went from controllable to violently boiling over in a matter of minutes.

Honestly, you didn’t even know why you had started arguing - it was that pathetic. And yet you’d both said pretty horrible stuff - though it was Tom who had crossed the line. Frankly, the way he’d spoken to you was almost unforgivable.

You’d both known instantly too, all his anger at you had immediately evaporated when he’d realised what he had said. It took no time for him to become a grovelling apologetic mess, however even that- it was already too late.

It might sound feeble, but honestly, you’d run and locked yourself in the downstairs loo. You’d cried on the inside- whilst from the other side of the door, he had been begging and pleading with you.

After an hour though, Tom finally gave up - hence why you’d had a pretty uncomfortable night on the sofa.

This brings it back to Harrison, the early riser of the house, barrelling into the living room after his morning run. All bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, except also slightly terrified looking as he stood awkwardly in the doorway.

“I’m up now” You sighed, dragging yourself into a sitting position on the sofa whilst massaging your crooked neck.

“You er…. you fell asleep watching the TV?” Rolling your eyes, you sighed at the blonde, even if his poor acting was a little entertaining.

“Are we both pretending that you don’t know what went down last night?” Of course, Harrison knew. The walls were thin, you’d been screaming and he was Tom’s best friend. No doubt, Tom had immediately gone to him for help and advice last night.

Harrison held his hands up in response, caught in the act, and clicked his tongue. “What he said was bad. You shouldn’t be the one ending up with the sore back.” He wasn’t wrong.

“And yet here I am…” With a sigh you smiled which he returned with a sickeningly empathetic one “Anyway, don’t let my sad self get in the way, did you come in here for anything?”

Now, because Harrison was mentally a five year old, that’s how you ended up sat crossed-legged on the floor, clutching a wii remote and angrily shouting at yoshi on the mariokart screen. The whole household was competitive as hell and you were no exception - so some rouge elbows were flying when he viciously knocked you off the track.

Slowly Harry and Tuwaine filtered in and picked up remotes too, so the quiet morning was very quickly switched into a tense atmosphere of yelps and shouts. None more so than Tuwaine, who was possibly the worst looser you had ever met.

Really, you knew all the boys were only doing this as there way of showing you they were with you. That they also thought Tom was a massive raging dickhead. And you appreciated it more than they would ever know. Locked down in Toms house, very much not mutual ground, having three stupid boys behind you meant everything.

Just as you got on to the 18th and final race of the house’s mario grand prix, another voice cut across the tense silence as you waited for the coutdown to turn into ‘go’. Naturally, you flipped round to see Tom, looking as though he literally just rolled out of bed with puffy eyes and messy hair and no top. The sight made your heart flutter, to the point you had to consciously check yourself - refusing to smile softly at him like you usually would, instead narrowing your eyebrows and looking back at the TV.

Tom had so desperately hoped that when he came down this morning, everything would be better. That all it’d take would be a quiet conversation for the two of you to make up - for him to have you in his arms again. Primarily as he had heard your excited laugh echoing through the halls in reactions to Tuwaines yelps of protests - it made him hopeful. Waking up to a cold and empty bed was almost soul-crushing this morning. He did not want it to ever happen again.

Which is why his heart sank so much when all you gave him was a scolding look, before turning your attention to the TV. Admittedly, he was naive to think that what he’d done last night would be an easy fix - he knew it too. So with dropping shoulders, Tom silently took a seat on the sofa, watching from afar. You spent the rest of the race more absent, not joining in with the Harrison or Harrys trash-talking, acutely aware of Tom’s eyes burning the back of your head.

Then came Harry’s celebrations as the overall winner (only just) and when Harrison suggested another game Tom piped up again.

“Give me a turn Harry.”

The three boys kneeling next to you all stiffened, looking immediately to you for what seemed like consent - as if they were engaging with the enemy. (At least it was good to know everyone was on your side).

“I’m gonna go prepare for my meeting anyway.” You spoke quietly, already placing the remote on the floor and standing up.

“Y/n I don’t mind swappin-“

“No. Thanks, H but no.” You weren’t being selfless and giving Tom a turn. You were running away from seeing him.

And Harrison was still really angry at Tom. He’d been so selfish and insensitive and had hurt you- someone who Haz also cared a lot about too. Yes Tom was his bestmate, that he’d grown up with and known for years - but Haz really liked you too, in fact all the boys did. So they were almost as pissed with Tom as you were.

So while you threw the cushion you were sat on back on the floor, Harrison shot Tom the filthiest look and practically shooed him away.

“come on Y/n … just one more? Then you can do your boring work.” You were about to refuse when Haz tilted his head toward the door, only then noticing that Tom had slipped out the room. Now that he was gone ,yes, just one more wouldn’t hurt. The meeting prep wasn’t time pressured; it was an excuse for an escape.

Tuwaine whooped a little when you nodded, planting back down and ready for the first race. Yet apart from that, the room was still a little awkward, you being the first to break the silence.

“Actually Haz, would you mind giving me a lift today?”

“What to the shops?

“Um no not quite.” Tuwaine laughed in his usual innocent and infectious style before asking more.

“Seriously? You know we’re locked down? Boris won’t be happy if you going mad and leaving the house.”

“Just to Y/f/n’s. She lives on her own so it’s legal.”

“She lives just down the road right? Can’t you walk?” Harry was confused, making him look away from the screen, ultimately leading to his ‘diddykong’ falling off the track.

“I’ll have my bags. I um… I think I’m going to stay with her till lockdown eases more.”

As soon as you said that, Harry pressed pause on the race, all three boys looking at you mouth-opened.

“For real?”

“Yeh I um… think me and Tom need some time apart and being locked in isn’t helping.”

“I’m not saying to forgive and forget what he said… but he is really sorry.”

“The twats literally kicking himself.” Tuwaine added, making you smile a little for calling Tom that.

“I know just… I need some space and-“

“Are you breaking up?” Harry almost announced, cutting you off. He would miss you too.

“No! Nono I … well I don’t know. I just- we both need this.”

The boys all nodded, looking at the floor for a moment before Harrison’s blue eyes were back on you.

“Course I’ll drive, but… but I’ll miss you.”

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

You’d left merely an hour later, whilst Tom was holed up in the garden doing what looked like an almost unbearable work out. It meant he was also out your hair and you could throw all your stuff into two suitcases without him being any the wiser. It was probably pretty cowardly to leave without speaking to him, but you couldn’t. It would hurt too much and you didn’t want to break down in front of him. No doubt as soon as you had got to Y/f/n you did - into a blubbering mess of tears - but Tom hadn’t seen so it was okay.

Speaking of. Tom.

Tom was not in a good way at all. He’d been trying really hard to curb his’ short fuse’ lately- all of which had been well and truly blown in the past 4 hours. After finally being realised from meetings, which he’d not been able to concentrate on anyway, Tom had mentally prepared himself for a lot of grovelling. Once he’d vaguely hunted the house and not found you there, he naturally asked Harry and Tuwaine (both of whom were in the living room) if they’d seen you around.

It was a typical question, the answer he was expecting was that you’d just gone on your daily walk. And yet the response he got was… well a lot more confusing. Harry’s eyes widened whilst T did his awkward-uncomfortable chuckle, the two locked in an intense bout of eye contact. It was as though they were arguing with each, but through the powers of telekinesis... and it put Tom on edge. He was already stressed because you were so angry with him, so not getting a clear answer out of his brother and best mate - lets just say it tested his patience.

“You two need to tell me what the hell is going on right now.”

The two boys both looked panicked to speak to him, which was the opposite of the usual situation. They were some of the ONLY people in his life that would just say it how it is, no sugar coating. Like if he was away and being ‘famous’ was getting to his head; or if he wore the wrong pair of jeans. Even yesterday evenings events, they’d both called him out on what he’d said to you.

So why the silence?

Eventually, it was Harry who spoke up, but in doing so, practically just waved all responsibility on to another innocent party.

“Ask Haz.”

And then Tom knew. He knew this was bad. Immediately his heart was pumping at an alarmingly fast rate, taking the stairs two at a time and not bothering to knock before bursting the door open.

“Where’s Y/n?”

Harrison was reclined back on his haphazardly made bed, laptop balanced on his lap as he looked up with a sigh. He’d known this conversation was coming, but it didn’t make it any less easy. With a sigh, Haz closed the lid of his MacBook and sat up on the bed.

“Tom just-“

“Where. Is. She.”

“She’s gone to Y/f/n’s.”

“Oh… okay.” Suddenly Tom’s voice was muted, thinking he might’ve blown his top at nothing. This wasn’t weird - Y/f/n was in your support bubble and you went to hers often.

Tom was grossly underestimating the situation - and Harrison heard didn’t fancy stringing him along though.

“No like gone. She um… she took all her stuff. I think she’s going to stay there till-“

Tom was already out his room at that point, slamming the door as he did so. Making a beeline for his own room, Tom then frantically started to pull out the draws and rummage around the shelves, confirming what he already knew. Your clothes were gone, your toothbrush and toiletries were gone, you were gone.

It’s important to note Tom didn’t really cry all that much. Or if he did - it was more inconsequential, at a sad movie or one of the rescue dog stories from battersea. Actually, when it came down to it, he didn’t really cry.

Now though, it was impossible to ignore the burning of his eyes, as he sank down onto the bed that now felt twice the size. With ragged breath, he repeatedly fisted his eyes, not actually letting the tears fall - but it was impossible to not acknowledge their presence. Harrison stood wordlessly at the door frame, knowing it best not to interrupt - whilst at the same time knowing Tom shouldn’t be left alone. There was a delicate balance between the two, which he was walking on a knife-edge on right now.

After a short while, Tom looked up with red eyes and nodded at Harrison, effectively granting him entrance. With a sigh once again, Haz moved and sat next to Tom on the bed, clasping his hands together nervously.

“She said you both just needed a break from each other. Think lockdown and everything was just a bit too intense.” Haz had tried to explain, yet it seemed Tom had only managed to lock onto one of the first words.

“A break? Or breaking up?”

“I uhm… she didn’t explicitly say ending things. But I just… I don’t know to be honest mate.”

“You see the way she looked at me this morning? Like she hated me. Wouldn’t even acknowledge that I was there.”

“I don’t know what to say… she needs time and space I think.” Tom was silent for a beat, shaking his head as he cradled his forehead.

“I hate the fact you and my girlfriend are on better terms than I am.” Anddd his voice was back to scathing.

“I’m not on anyones side. But your both my friends and she… she needed some time.”

With that, Harrison made a quick exit out, getting Harry to take over the Tom supervision.

Ever since the atmosphere in the house had been tense. To say Tom was highly strung was an understatement, particularly towards Harrison. Deep down he was thankful Haz was looking out for Y/n: he was glad that Haz was checking she was okay. It’s not like Tom could, because Y/n was refusing to answer his calls, texts, whatsapps, even the slip of paper he’d slipped under Y/f/n’s door in the middle of an especially dark night.

So it was good to know Y/n was okay, but the fact she was going on socially distanced walks with the rest of his housemates was rubbing salt in the wound.

After a week and a half of complete radio silence on your end Tom had utterly worn down. He didn’t have the emotional capacity to be angry anymore, he was just tired. Tired of missing you with every breath, tired of the ten-tonne weight of guilt pressing on his chest, fucking exhausted with being angry at Haz and Harry and Tuwaine.

The best thing in his life and one of the very limited opportunities was quality time with the people he loved more than anything else. He had ruined it all.

And it was the small things. It was waking up to your soft, whispered voice in the morning; it was your infectious giggle when he surprised you with a hug from behind and gentle kisses to your neck; it was your quiet singing in the shower. Especially when he knew Haz, Harry and Tuwaine were all still seeing you and laughing with you. It hurt like hell.

Which is how he ended up hesitantly knocking on Harrison’s bedroom door at half eleven at night, with his tail between his legs. Having been so uber-healthy all lockdown, Haz was already in bed following his sleep cycle, though for Tom right now- he would be awake.

“I’m um… I’m sorry I’ve been a knob. There’s no excuse of anything I’ve just… I’ve been a knob.”

“You’re not wrong.” Harrison nodded in agreement with a sly smile, motioning for Tom to come into the room, after which he perched on the edge of the bed.

“I just… I need to speak to her but I… I don’t want to push her if she’s still hurting and I…”

“You absolutely promise not to blow your fuse? Because she couldn’t handle that.” Tom’s eyes widened, thinking this would be a much harder pitch than how it seemed to be going.

“Yesyesyes i- I promise. I just, I feel broken you know? Even if all I get is the time to say sorry, I-I really need to.”

Harrison released a deep breath, nodding slowly before throwing the covers off himself. Tom watched all his movements with a curious gaze, silently sitting as Haz pulled on a hoodie, then socks too.

“Well? Let’s go.”

//////////////////

Now, what Tom had not in the slightest bit been prepared for was this to happen tonight. Really, he hadn’t even thought Harrison would agree to let him talk to you… and even if he had, Tom not in hell thought it’d be at 11:30 that evening.

His heart was thundering in his chest, trying to hurriedly script how on earth he was going to apologise meaningfully to you - as him and Haz walked the short distance to your friends house. Honestly the whole situation was peculiar to Tom - finding it hard to believe that if you weren’t to answer his texts you wouldn’t be open to an in person conversation.

What Tom didn’t know, was how you’d been texting Haz at a similar point of desperation. You weren’t happy and even given everything Tom had said and acted - you missed your boy. No matter how infuriating he could be when trapped 24/7 - you’d quickly learnt this was the only way you wanted to spend these weird times.

So yes, Tom’s best friend knew you were hardly sleeping either, but needed that little push to interact with you boyfriend. No doubt, you’d still be awake to answer the door.

Once he’d arrived at the apartment block and walked up the stairs to the right floor, it still took some prodding and pushing from Harrison to get Tom to knock on the door. Plainly, because he was shitting himself. Haz hadn’t given him enough pre warning, enough time to work it all out in his head. So it took another encouraging nod from Harrison for him to knock on the slightly rough-round-the-edges flat door.

Y/f/n was single and young, starting her career in Kingston - so the flat she could afford was modest at best. When it was just occupied by a single person, that was manageable - two was a push. You’d only been living with her for a week and a few days but it was enough to know this flat was not ideal for two people in lockdown. You were already stepping on each others toes. It also wasn’t technically legal to move households but Y/f/n had always been in your support bubble as a single household otherwise. And so there was also a layer of guilt to it all.

Naturally then, sharing a bed with someone who wasn’t Tom meant you just were not sleeping. Even if you had both gone to bed early (just to kill some hours in the day) you were still wide awake at quarter to twelve - when a timid knock echoed through the minuscule apartment. Curiosity peaked at who the hell would be calling now; you silently slipped out of bed, managing to not disturb Y/f/n, and closed the bedroom door.

Now you weren’t an idiot. Even though this was southwest london, hardly the capital for crime, Y/f/n lived in a dodgy building with some questionable characters. And it was midnight. Hence why you approached the situation cautiously, tiptoeing to the door and waiting with your ear pressed against the wood.

“I told you she wouldn’t answer!”

“She will! Might just be in the loo or something.”

“Haz this is stupid-“

The air in your chest froze when you immediately recognised the smooth tone of his voice. It was him… and you’d missed that so much. Already there were tears in your eyes and you couldn’t open the door just yet. So no, instead you slid down the doorframe before calling quietly out into the night.

“Tom?”

The bickering on the otherside of the door was silenced, but you heard a quite tap on the door... and could envision exactly what was going on. Tom, pressing both palms and his ear to the door, as Harrison took a few steps back - sensing his work was done.

“Y/n? You there?” He sounded desperate, you could hear the emotion dripping off his voice. It was only when you tried to reply did you realise your own voice was having a harder time speaking.

“Yeh its-its me.” It felt as though this heavyweight that had been pressing down on your chest was slowly lifting, making your voice all cracky and low.

In response, there was a short and sharp exhale. It sounded relieved before some fidgeting as you imagined him crouching down beside the door - mirroring your image.

“Fuck, it… it feels so good to hear your voice.”

“Yours too… I’ve-i’ve missed you.”

Tom snorted at that, a gentle bang allowing you to realise he’d just whacked his head on the back of the wood.

“You have no idea how this week felt.” He was wrong though, you did.

Yes, maybe without the insurmountable guilt that Tom was rightfully feeling, but it didn’t mean that the time apart wasn’t easy.

“I do. This hasn’t been a nice holiday for me you know?”

He sighed, knowing that yet again he’d said the wrong thing. This time though, he didn’t rebut instantly (which surprised you), instead his response was more measured and calculated.

“I am so sorry. And of course, I know because I was the one that hurt you too. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forgive myself for that.” You nodded but given this conversation was happening through a door Tom didn’t see your gentle agreement - opting to fill the silence.

“I um… I’m not good at this whole um… speaking my feelings. But I’ve hated myself ever since I picked that fight with you. It was stupid and uh it-it was all my fault. I’m so so sorry for hurting you.”

“‘Why?” You tried to ask, except the words were stuck in your throat, making you have to clear it before asking again. “Why did you say it?”

“To get a rise out of you. It’s stupid and petty and fucking-fucking dumb. I said it not because I’ve ever thought it, I never ever have, but I knew it’d hurt you. I was preying on your insecurities because I was angry at the world and that was so unfair. “

“No shit.”

Silence reigned as you fiddled with your fingers - specifically with the promise ring he’d bought you a year ago.

“You-you think you could ever forgive me?”

“Thats the annoying part. I want to hate you because you literally stabbed me then twisted the knife but… but all I’ve done this week is miss you. Even when I saw Haz or Harry or Tuwaine. I just fucking missed you.”

“Can you open the door please love?”

Clumsily you scrubbed the tear tracks off your face, scrabbling to your feet so you could thrust open the doors. Because you might still be bloody pissed at him, but at the same time - you needed your Tom. Thrusting the door open, the first thing you registered was being pressed into Tom’s chest. His arms slinked around your waist and held him tight, which you reciprocated, squeezing tightly round his neck. Your senses were all being assaulted by one thing and one thing only. Tom.

He smelt like usual, except maybe the slightest bit stronger than usual - you figured he hadn’t showered in a day or two or bothered with cologne. The top of your forehead was pressed up against his chin, and as he readjusted his grip on you, you felt the scratchy feeling of his unshaven stubble. He kept whispering apologies against the top of your head, almost desperate and religiously.

Arching back, you brought both hands to cup his cheeks, looking into his glassy brown. eyes, which looked so lost and confused.

“I’m still angry.”

“Of course-“

“I’m still angry but I’m going to kiss you okay?”

Safe to say Tom didn’t require a verbal response, taking it upon himself to nudge his lips against yours, yet waiting for you to initiate the kiss. And that you did, everything else about this godforsaken week and a half. His index finger traced the angle of your jaw, whilst he held your lower back tight, pressing himself as close as physically possible to you. Needing you.

Eventually arching back, your thumb ran over his deep and sunken under-eyes, which added so much age to his face.

“You look tired Tommy.”

“Can’t sleep without you telling me goodnight.” That was another tradition you had had. Even when he was away, you’d even set an alarm for whatever bedtime was for the other across the world. Just so you could send a little message or voice not saying goodnight. Was it cringey? Yes. Did either of you care? No.

But since you’d been away all the evening wishes were absent from you. Which hurt Tom more than you may ever know.

“I know you’re still angry but will you please come home to me? I need you to be the last thing I hear at night and the first thing in the morning.”

would love to hear any feedback <333 (but think this is a bit of a shitter so im sorry!!!)

tagging: @lovehollandy12 @pandaxnienke @thegirlwiththeimpala @msmimimerton @hollandfanficlove @hollandlover19 @hunnybunimdun @crossyourpeter @thefernandasantana@hallecarey1

#tom holland x you #tom holland angst #tom holland x y/n #tomholland #tom holland x reader #tom holland fluff #harry holland

472 notes · View notes

mae-gi-writes · 3 years

Text

Once Again (PT.4) | Iwaizumi Hajime (Haikyu!)

ONCE AGAIN | PART FOUR

Summary

Iwaizumi’s broken marriage results in his five-year-old son trying to match him up with his primary school teacher, whom he thinks will make a wonderful replacement for a mother.

Genre: fluff, angst, f! Reader x dad! Iwaizumi

PREVIOUS PART | NEXT PART

----

"Miss Y/N, is daddy okay?" Hoisuke peers up at you from the backseat as you pull up to your apartment unit. You glance at him through the rearview mirror and smile, "don't worry, he's fine. He's just going to be slightly late."

Iwaizumi had called you earlier that day, sounding breathless and stressed out as he iterated how slow traffic was moving. On impulse, you'd proposed to bring Hoisuke over to your house to make things more comfortable and after a slight bout of hesitation, he'd agreed to pick his son up in the comfort of your home.

"This is the first time I come to your place, miss Y/N," Hoisuke's eyes are darting back and forth across the tiny kitchenette to your right to the small tv screen plugged to the wall on the left. Granted, your flat is merely anything special and far from ready for unexpected guests. But the sharp curiosity gleaming in your student's eyes holds no judgement and for that you apprrciate him all the more.

"You hungry?" You ask while settling him down at your tiny dinner table compact enough to fit snuggly up to your kitchen counter.

Hoisuke purses his lips in thought and you swear he's learnt this facial expression from observing his father, "hm yeah. A little bit," before throwing you a sheepish grin.

So you whip up something simple; omelette rice with your special Korean chilli sauce as a sudden downpour splatters through the cityscape, the rain dancing to its own rhythm as it splatters over your windowpane. The TV plays in the background, a random cartoon that gets interrupted with Hoisuke's giggles and that ignites an affectionate smile on your lips as you chide himto eat. And you're not really sure why your chest feels tight and filled to the brim with comfort, but you realise you don't actually mind having the small human around that much.

Teachers aren't supposed to have favourites. But you admit to yourself that teachers are only human. And if you are to choose, Hoisuke would be one of yours.

"Miss Y/N, do you have a boyfriend?" Hoisuke's voice pierces through your thoughts and as you blink down at him, you shake your head, "no, I'm single as a pringle."

"You are not married then."

"No I'm not."

"Great!" Hoisuke jumps up on his seat, eyes twinkling with mischief, "then do you want to marry daddy?"

"What?" You laugh out, "it doesn't work that way Hoisuke."

"But I like you miss Y/N," he replies with the seriousness of a child wanting his way, "You'd be a great mum. Can you be my mum?"

"Oh gosh kiddo," your hand reachea out to ruffle his hair, heart twisting at how easily he leans into your touch, "I'd love to be your mum, but--"

"Then marry my dad," Hoisuke's mumble is muffled against your side. He unconsciously snuggles up to you and you caress the top of his head down to his nape, "daddy likes you too. He really likes you. You make him happy. He laughs a lot when you're around, and he doesn't get sad like he usually does when Mama is here."

"But that would be unfair to your mum wouldn't it?" You say softly, "you can't have two mums. She'll be upset."

There's a slight pause where you can see the cogs turning in his brain, "yeah," he says eventually, "but I don't really like going to Mama's anyway--"

The sound of your doorbell jolts you both to attention. You give Hoisuke's head one more ruffle before getting up to unlock the door.

Only to come face to face with none other than Hoisuke's mother.

You blink. Once. Twice. Unconsciously taking a step back.

She's pretty. Prettier up close, with those feline cat eyes and that full mouth that renders any man crazy. Standing a few inches higher than you, there is no doubt as to why Iwaizumi had fallen for her charms in the first place. She looks like the kind of woman that would still be elegant even dressed in a mechanician's uniform.

"H-Hello," your eyes dart from hers to a blank spot on the wall opposite, "can I help?"

"Where's Hoisuke?" Her voice is smooth, yet hard enough to make you wince.

"I--" your mind races. Isn't Iwaizumi supposed to pick him up? And how the hell does she know where you live?

She seems to read your face as she says, "I saw you with my son leaving the school. You're his...teacher, aren't you? I was waiting to pick him up."

"I thought Iwaizumi-san--"

"I don't need a reason to see my son," she arches her brows at you in a way that makes you want to crawl under a carpet and hide.

"Mama?" Hoisuke's voice floats from behind you, a tentative waver of nervousness as you hear him pad up to the door.

"Does Iwaizumi-san know you're picking him up?" You hope your tone is diplomatic, but the way her body tenses proves you otherwise, "You can tell him Hoisuke's with his mother," she nods at her child, "now come on Hoisuke. Let's go home."

Maybe feeling the tension in the air, Hoisuke merely shrinks back, "but it's Daddy that picks me up."

"Yes well, Daddy's not here now is he?" She gestures aggressively towards him, "now come on."

"Maybe we should wait until Iwaizumi-san gets here," you try to smooth things over, "he's on his way--"

"Don't tell me what to do with my child," Mizune snaps and without warning, grabbing hold of Hoisuke's arm before pulling him out of the flat. He resists.

"Mama no, let's wait for Daddy--"

"Daddy isn't coming. Now stop being so difficult," she doesn't relent against the way her son twists and kicks at the ground while you stand there, mind blind with panic because you've never actually had to deal with such a situation before.

"Mama please!" Hoisuke cries out with a sob.

You want to move. You urge yourself to. But your feet won't budge. It's like you're rooted in place.

Hoisuke has started crying at this point and in an attempt to smoothen things out, you try again by saying, "I'm sure we can all calm down and talk this out. As a teacher, I cannot--"

"That's right," Mizune's feline pupils narrow down on you, making you flinch at the rage simmering through those dark orbs, "you're his teacher. And as a teacher, you should know how to keep your boundaries. You're not his mother and you never will be. So fucking stay out of my family's life."

The words burn as they etch themselves into memory and you can only watch, hand clutched to the door as Mizune drags her crying son away. His cries are loud enough that they bounce throughout the corridor and keeps resonating even when he's long gone, as you try to comb through the last fifteen minutes where everything has turned upside down.

Fucking stay out of my family's life.

Your brain reels. Your heart feels heavy. You don't know what to do, what to say.

And Mizune's words are as sharp as a knife.

Don't tell me what to do with my child.

A sob slowly catches the back of your throat, eyes slowly brimming with an onset of tears.

You're not his mother.

The truth hurts. You know that Hoisuke is not your child, know that all this time it's merely Iwaizumi and his son, and then you watching on the sidelines. But hearing the cold rejection thrust in your face hurts more than you'll admit.

You aren't quite sure how long you stand there gazing into the empty corridor as if if you will it hard enough, Hoisuke will come running back to you. It is only when a familiar alto reaches your ears that you snap back to attention:

"Y/N?"

Jerking at the sound and looking up to see none other than Iwaizumi, drenched and breathless, standing a few feet away from you, your breath hitches in warning.

He closes the distance between you, frowning upon noticing the tears at the corner or your eyes, "what's wrong? Where is Hoisuke--"

"I'm..." your eyes drop to the ground, "I'm sorry," your whimper is barely above a whisper and you feel him move closee, his hand gently grasping your arm.

"Y/N?" His voice is gentle, though ragged and breathy, "what happened?"

It's probably the gentlest he's ever been with you. Turning away to cup your mouth with your hand, your teeth clamp down onto your lower lip in hopes of keeping the emotion from spilling over.

"Mizune came," you murmur out, "she took Hoisuke home."

There's a sharp intake of breath on his part. A pause, "how did--"

"She followed us."

Iwaizumi lets out a sigh as he moves towards you and you stagger back to hide your tears, but it proves useless when his hand grasps your arm to pull your hand away.

Deep brown mocha meet yours. Your throat tightens.

"Sorry," you breathe out a forced chuckle but it's clear from Iwaizumi's face that he's spotted your tears, and that he just knows that there is something bothering you.

But he doesn't ask. Doesn't question your intent or your feelings.

Instead, he pulls you close, close enough you're stumbling into him, before his hand wounds around the back of your head and presses you against his shoulder.

It shocks you, the sudden intimacy of his touch. His citrus smell once again invades your space and you can't find it in yourself to keep on holding on before you break down.

Maybe it's because you had felt-- at this point in time -- that you were someone significant in Hoisuke and Iwaizumi's life that you're not crying into Iwaizumi's shoulder as if everything is going downhill in your life. But you're comforted by the casual way he holds you with his head turned away so that you can bury yourself in the crook of his collarbone.

"Sorry," you manage to mumble out after you've managed to calm down. He's moved you back into your flat and has sat you down onto your kitchen chair, having rummaged through your utensils to bring you a cup of water that you sip on gratefully, if only to act as a distraction from the way he's gazing at you.

Iwaizumi shakes his head silently, looks away and clears his throat, "I'm gonna call her. You good?"

You nod and after searching your face for a few more seconds, he slides out of his seat and walks away with the device already presses to his ear. Bowing your head and gulping down the rest of the water, you manage to block out his angry alto resonating through the compact space as you focus on regaining control of yourself. You rarely fall to pieces like that, rarely give in to the downward pull of your emotions because the nature of your job obliges you to.

"Y/N."

You jump involuntarily and look up to see the said man sporting a frown, "is Hoisuke okay?" You ask.

"He's fine," a sigh escapes his lips as he slides back into the chair as if there's a weight pressing down onto his shoulders, "I'll pick him up tomorrow after school."

You nod. Good, the last thing you need is for Hoisuke to be disrupted by problems that don't concern him.

When he speaks next though, his alto is hoarse and thick, "I'm sorry Y/N. You don't deserve to get in the middle of all this."

"It's okay."

His eyes pierce yours with burning hot intensity, causing your gaze to drop to your fists laying across the table, knuckles so tight they're turning white.

A bout of silence ensues, lest for the pounding in your heart while your thoughts take on a tumultous turn for the worse. What if Mizune is angry? What if she stops Hoisuke from coming to school altogether? What if she makes her child move just for the sake of keeping him away from his teacher who can't seem to keep her nose out of anyone's business? What if--

Warmth floods your hands so suddenly that it interrupts your train of thought. Head jerking up in surprise to see Iwaizumi's hands clasp yours, your blood suddenly pulses through your limbs upon feeling his thumb gently stroke over your knuckles.

Iwaizumi is not a man of words. That much you know, but this evening has been full of surprises for you both. So you force yourself to relax, almost enjoying the gentlest of his touches fluttering across your skin.

"How," your words are choked, "how angry is she?"

"That doesn't matter."

"But what if--"

"None of this is your fault, Y/N," he replies firmly, followed by a gentle squeeze, "whatever you have cooking in that head of yours, stop."

Nodding and sighing in defeat, you lapse into a more comfortable silence as the time dwindles on. It's different to have someone else occupying your flat, considering that you've gotten so used to living along after your horrible breakup. A good kind of different.

When you bid him goodbye that evening -- granted you shall wake up with dark circles and puffy eyes the next day -- he suprises you with another casual, one-armed hug which signifies so much more for the usually reserved man, Hoisuke's bag hanging loosely from the other. He holds you close, his grip strong and secure and making you wish you can melt in a puddle of warmth at his feet, while his cheek pillows atop your temple against the side of your head. You lean in, cozy and warm, while his heart beats underneath your ear like a gentle drum easing you of today's worries and you wish you have the willpower to keep yourself away, in vain.

He pulls away slightly, mutters a soft "night" before a ghost of a kiss imprints itself on your temple.

Your breath hitches but the moment is gone all too son. He's already swivelling around and making his way down the corridor, leaving you to stare after him with a wild, raging heart.

You know, without a doubt, that you're already a little too skin-deep.

----

Iwaizumi is furious. Filled to the brim with a rage that's threatening to bubble over his insides.

He'd gone round to fetch Hoisuke in the morning as promised, just managing to keep himself from knocking his ex-wife's double mahogany doors down only to be greeted by that stupid bastard who'd stolen his wife away.

Todoka had always roamed within the same circle of friends as Iwaizumi and Mixune, having met under the same dormitory roof and sharing common sports interests. So imagine how big of a slap it was to hear that he'd been the one stealing kisses and sharing soft subtle touches with his wife behind his back.

"I could've driven him if only you'd let me," Mizune had told him as they waited for Hoisuke to finish brushing his teeth. is ex-wife's familiar soprano made him tense. Her face was a cold mask of indifference that covered up her silent anger. She'd folded her arms, chin jutted out and lips pursed, "he's my son too, you know."

"Was he still your son when you went and fucked Todoka?"

She'd sighed. As if dealing with the tantrum of a child, "Why are you bringing this up again?"

"Because you never put him first. Not when he threw his tantrums, not when he cried for you. Not even when he was sick," Iwaizumi spat out, the words tasting bitter upon his tongue.

"I had issues Hajime, you know that--"

"Like what? Like we weren't good enough for you? Like I wasn't pulling myself apart while you were out for nights on end?" Iwaizumi would've continued with an onslaught of pent-up statements if his son hadn't spoken out:

"Daddy?"

"Hey bud," Iwaizumi's anger had deflated like a hot air balloon, "you ready to go?"

And so he packed his son up in the car, his ex-wife watching his every move, and just after he'd closed his vehicle door did Mizune mention something about you.

"Do you like her?"

He'd bristled, "none of your business."

"Hoisuke is my son," Mizune's eyes had hardened into steel, "I don't need anyone else filling up his head with stupid ideas, nor do I want him to get hurt--"

"Like you did?" The words were fire burning upon his tongue. His shoulders were squared as he faced her fully, "stop beating around the bush, Mizune. We both know you hate the fact that Hoisuke loves spending time with Y/N."

"That's not it, I--"

"Y/N has spent more time with Hoisuke in a week than you did in a month. She's wiped his tears more timesthat you've seen him cry," he swivels towards his car then, "are we done?"

"You're acting like a child."

"I'm not the one picking a fight because of some petty jealousy," Iwaizumi had snapped.

"I'm not jealous!" Mizune burst out, her patience finally wearing thin, "I'm trying to look out for him, for you! She's not right for you--"

"Don't. Talk about her like that,” Anger had flared at how dismissively she spoke of you, visible as his knuckles tightened and a vein throbbed in his forehead, "and if you know what's good for you, you'll stay the fuck out of my life."

He'd driven off without looking back, knowing full well he'd shocked her into silence and if he were to be honest with himself, that outburst had eased some of the knots in his stomach. Dealing with Hoisuke's anxiety after witnessing yet another argument though, that was something else.

"Daddy, I don't understand why you and Mama fight so much," Hoisuke finally finds his voice when they stop inside the school gtounds. His small chubby hand, fitting into Iwaizumi's large one, cling to him with more force than necessary as they make their way to his respective class.

"Your mama and I...have different opinions on things," Iwaizumi tries to explain, suddenly guilty that his son has to pick up all the broken pieces. Impulsively, he ruffles Hoisuke's locks, "don't worry."

And that's when his son stops in mid-walk, looks him dead in the eye, and tells him, "Mama doesn't like miss Y/N, does she?"

It's a different kind of slap, but he shouldn't have understimated the little five year old. Children know much more than they let on snd here's the proof of it.

Iwaizumi allows both his hands to clasp Hoisuke's shoulders and bends down until they are face to face, "hey," dark mocha meets lighter caramel tinged with a fear of a child desperate for a family that all his friends can take for granted, "that doesn't matter. Do you like miss Y/N?"

Hoisuke nods, eyes wet.

Iwaizumi's heart swells and he swears he doesn't ever want to see that expression on his son's face, not if he can help it.

"Then it doesn’t matter what your Mom tells you," he squeezes the child's shoulder for good measure, "no one can boss you around and tell you that you're not allowed to like who you like," he brushes a few hairs off Hoisuke's forehead, "not me, not even your mom. Got that?"

“Will we be able to invite miss Y/N again?” Hoisuke asks with a trembling bottom lip.

“If you want to.”

“Do you want to, daddy?”

That question takes him by surprise, the familiar guilt lurching through his stomach as he tries to comb through an excuse to hide his growing feelings.

Except, why does he have to hide in the first place?

It takes a moment, before Iwaizumi nods, “yeah,” he murmurs gently with the softest of smiles, “I want to.”

Hoisuke nods once more, which is shortly followed by lurching into Iwaizumi's arms as a sob echoes from his throat. His father holds him close, glad that the earlier tension from Hoisuke's has dissipated into relief for now.

What he doesn’t know though, is that you stand just a few feet away, body tucked into the corner of the wall and holding up your racing heart against your chest.

------

The more you spend more time with the Iwaizumis, the more your heart gets invested in the coaxing warmth that makes up their family. You try to dismiss what you've overheard back in the school corridor but it's an itch you can't quite erase now that you've been exposed to Iwaizumi's feelings, which does nothing to stop the way your heart skips a beat whenever his gaze lingers upon yours for too long.

And you've taken notice. Or you think you do. Of how he sounds more gentle whenever he talks to you, how whenever you play hands they drift towards each other for a few extra seconds that causes your skin to tingle with warmth. How it is so goddamn easy to fall into this familiar routine of playing families with Hoisuke around like a human sunshine.

But there's still one thing nagging you. Which is why you corner him once you have tucked Hoisuke into bed on Saturday night, seeking him out on the small terrace tucked beside his kitchen that overlooks the glowing city lights.

"Can I ask you something?"

His gaze flits to yours. He nods.

Swallowing back the sudden knot of anxiety in your throat, your question comes out more like a soft proposition rather than a demand fot answers.

"I know it's none of my business, but-- I overheard you and Hoisuke a few days ago in the school corridor," your words are rushed and quick as you fold your arms over your chest, "did you and Mizune have a fight...about me?"

Iwaizumi shifts in your peripheral to face you, but your eyes adamantly find purchase onto the cement ledge splattered with dirt. For a split second, you wonder whether it wouldn't have been better to keep your mouth shut.

"What did you hear?" He asks quietly.

With a slow breath, you tell him what you've heard, underlining that this whole encounter was an accident.

"And from the way she acted when she saw me...well, it's not hard to put two and two together," you finish off in a mumble, then quickly adding, "look I--I don't want to come in-between you and your family. I just don't want Hoisuke to get hurt."

Surprise flits through his features. He regards you for a long moment, long enough that you feel like squirming underneath his gaze.

Then, taking you by surprise, he chuckles softly and shifts his elbows onto the edge of the terrace, "No wonder he likes you."

You blink at him. It suddenly feels a little too warm.

"None of this is your fault, Y/N," you wonder since when have the formalities dropped from Miss Y/N to just Y/N and decide that you like the way your name rolls off his tongue, "Mizune gets jealous over stupid shit and if she can't see someone else making her son happy then that's not our problem."

Your teeth unconsciously find purchase onto your lower lip, which he notices. That doesn't stop him from reaching over to press his thumb against your lower lip, "don't."

You freeze at the touch. His thumb is warm against your mouth, calloused and sending a series of tingles down your spine.

He must realize the intimacy of his touch, for he drops his hand away and mutters, "he's...livelier. when you're around. Happier, even. I've never seen him like that with his Mama."

"What about you?"

You feel like slapping yourself. The audacity coming out of your mouth surprises you and you swear your cheeks burst into flames.

Iwaizumi looks at you almost at the same time your pupils focus on his, causing your breath to hitch.

Why the hell can't you just keep your mouth shut?

Iwaizumi's voice is merely a murmur when he speaks next, deep and laced with a roughness.

"What about me?"

Your brain seems to turn to mush, "do you like having me around?" You hope you don't sound too pathetic.

Your heart almost stops at his next set of words.

"I do."

And there's that smile, barely there but enough that your own lips stretch to mirror his action. Until you realize you are smiling at him like a fool and quickly look away like you've just been burnt.

Something shifts in the air between you, spurred on by the way your eyes keep searching each other's with a growing tension that makes your skin rattle. Iwaizumi's frown is present, yet not unpleasant and you're not quite sure who moves, just that he's suddenly a little closer. Close enough you get a whiff of the citrus smell you've come to recognize as his own.

"Miss Y/N?"

Hoisuke's voice suddenly snaps you out of your daze. Quickly whipping around to see the said boy rubbing his eyes, a hand unconscioudly scratching his tummy, your entire countenance softens as he blinks up at you sleepily.

"I can't sleep," he mumbles out with sleep still in his eyes, "can you come back to bed with me?"

"Yeah sure," you're already on your way over to him, scooping the child up in your arms. He takes this chance to bury his face into the crook of your neck, sighing contently.

You turn back to his father, a dark silhouette against the bright landscape, "I'll be right back."

But Hoisuke surprises you by saying, "you too, Daddy."

Iwaizumi stills, "what?"

"Come to bed too, Daddy."

For one single moment, it's like time stops. You can't see Iwaizumi's face but a moment later he straightens and walks over, nodding at you when he's close enough. You don't realize your heart is besting like a hummingbird until you hear it throbbing through your chest as you try squeezing into Hoisuke's bed, you in the corner and his father barely hanging onto the edge, Hoisuke squished in-between.

It's like an instinct for the boy to latch onto your shirt. He turns to burrow himself into the curve you've made with your body, facing Iwaizumi who is half-sitting, half-lying down in an angle that surely isn't comfortable.

So you decide to point it out to him, patting the bed for good measure in hopes that he doesn't notice the warm flush of your neck.

"It's okay," your whisper tickles Hoisuke's hair, "it's only until he falls asleep."

He hesitates, before you see his head nod and he slides his body a little closer, chest curving into Hoisuke's back and close enough for you to get bathed in his warmth.

He smells good. He looks good. God. Why does he look so damn good?

Stop! You squeeze your eyes shut aa if that might help your racing thoughts, and you are so caught up in your own head that you almost miss the gentle brush of Iwaizumi's fingers against your shoulder.

You tense up right before realizing that his action is intentional. Your shoulders slowly relax, a shaky exhale escaping your lips as he takes the chance to linger over your arm a little longer, before falling away onto the mattress.

You fall asleep that night listening to not just Hoisuke's, but Iwaizumi's heartbeat.

----

Taglist: @multi-fandom-fanfic, @168-cm-png, @bakugouswh0r3, @yatoatyourservice, @ayocee, @marvel-ing-at-it-all, @astrolcve, @lilith412426, @elianetsantana, @schleepyflocci, @oohlalie , @kaashikoi , @tendo-sxtori , @iwaroses , @its-the-aerieljeane , @lalalemon101 , @lanaxians-2 , @dora-the-grownup , @sharin-gone , @nekomavsnohebi , @crayonwriting , @imafan , @random-fandom-girl-24 , @bucinhajime , @izumikunmy , @iwaoioioi , @evesmores , @meri-soni-meri-tamanna , @paintedstarres , @okadaxo , @michaki , @archiepudding , @ysatrap , @cringe-freak , @thatprettybunny

462 notes · View notes

foli-vora · 4 years

Text

more than words, pt.4

A/N: Hello, angels! I hope you’re all safe and healthy! Next instalment is here, and I’m very excited for what’s coming. I really enjoyed writing this chapter so I hope you enjoy, too! Love to you all! (I hope I haven’t forgotten to tag anyone but if I did, I’m really sorry!)

Pairing: Francisco ‘Catfish’ Morales x f!reader, best friend!Benny Miller x f!reader

Word count: 4.1k

Warnings: SO MUCH FLUFF, swearing, brief alcohol mention, bit of spice (reminder: this fic is 18+), Frankie being the tease he is

pt.1 / pt.2 / pt.3 / pt.5 / pt.6

Your lips were still tingling when you woke the next morning, eyes fluttering open and a smile creeping onto your face as the events from last night replay through your mind for the millionth time. Frankie had been on your mind the entire drive home, the tenderness of his first kiss kicking your heart into double time, and the pure unrestrained passion of the kiss that followed hitting a far lot lower.

Was it possible for a first date to go as well as it did? There wasn’t a single moment in your time spent with Frankie that had you unsure about his character or intentions.

Benny had actually done it. He had found you a guy you really liked. Is Hell freezing over?

You reach for your phone as you slip from bed, stretching leisurely as you make your way to the kitchen, and finding Benny’s contact before pressing ‘call’. It takes a few rings, until his drawl finally greets you through the phone.

“Did you puke?” is his immediate answer and you roll your eyes, tucking the phone between your ear and shoulder as you putter around your kitchen putting some breakfast together.

“No, you asshole.”

He laughs. “He’s that whipped, he’d probably thank you.”

What? What does that mean? Has Frankie spoken to Benny? Did he talk about last night? What did he say? Did he think it went as well as you did? Shit. Calm down. You try to steady your suddenly quickening pulse, a pleasant flutter consuming your stomach as you attempt to sound casual.

“Oh? Has he said something?”

Benny’s voice is sly, teasing – he knows you far too well. “Maybe.”

“What do you mean ‘maybe’?”

“Maybe I’m sitting next to him right now. And maybe he’s sitting here blushin’ like a little –” Benny grunts suddenly, seemingly in pain, and the phone crackles as he shifts on the other end, “don’t fuckin’ kick me. Anyway, Fish wants to know what you’re wearing.”

You hear him then, raspy voice piping up in the background with an aghast ‘What?! No–’ and then there’s more scuffling, more grunts of pain, and Benny’s snort of laughter.

“What are you even doing up?” Benny redirects his attention to you after a few minutes of bickering with Frankie, words muffled as he talks around whatever food he has rolling around his mouth. He had noted the early time when your face had flashed over his screen, wondering what could’ve possibly gotten you up and out of bed so early on a day off.

You shrug lightly, even though he couldn’t see it, and prepare your pancake batter. “Just couldn’t sleep in.”

He’s quiet, chewing thoughtfully and then asking softly, “You okay?”

“Yeah – I’m fine, just bored sitting at home. For some reason, I wanted to see what you were up to and if you wanted to hang out, but you’re busy so never mind.”

Benny laughs, “Aw, you missin’ me, angel?” he teases.

“Ugh, I take it back. I’d rather sit here in silence and stare at my wall.”

You can hear him laughing even as you pull your phone away and press the red button, shaking your head and smiling to yourself.

A week passes by before you even know it, work taking over much of your week, and much to your delight, Frankie had eagerly organised another night to meet up. You had talked all week of course – a phone call every evening once Mena had been put down for the night, texts here and there throughout the day, and when he had asked if you were free at all over the weekend, you had agreed without a second thought.

Eagerness buzzes through your system the entire day of the date and the drive to the restaurant, a much welcome change from the anxiety riddled one before. It was a breath of fresh air.

Frankie was waiting for you, as he said he would, leaning against the wall of the restaurant and a smile immediately widening his features when his eyes find you.

This time there was no hesitation, no voice in the back of your mind wondering how to tackle the situation. As soon as you saw him – you couldn’t help yourself – you were in his arms and giving him a soft kiss in greeting. Pleasantly surprised, he smiles against your lips, arms winding around your waist, and the electric tingles that rocket up from your palm when his rough hand gently takes yours has your heart going wild in your chest.

It’s dinner instead of drinks this time, and the two of you squeeze yourselves into one side of the leather booths, instead of sitting opposite each other. You order quickly, and sip at your beer while you listen to Frankie talk about his week, the conversation soon moving in all sorts of directions as you wait for your food.

“How could you not?” You cry at one point, slapping a hand on the table and watching his shoulders shake as he laughs, stomach twisting at the pleasant sound of it. “The universe is huge – like, huge. We are not alone.” You say ominously, and he laughs harder, head hitting the back of the booth.

“Where’s the proof?”

“What?”

“The proof! If it’s so big and we’re not the only ones here, where is everyone?”

“It’s a cover up.” You sniff indifferently, sipping your drink and fighting the twitches threatening to turn your pursed lips into a smile. “Oh my god, you were in the military – are you in on it?”

He’s struggling to breathe, cheeks aching under the grin stretching his features and stomach starting to cramp. “In on what?”

“That’s it! You’re part of the cover up!”

“Yeah, you’ve got me. I was actually a part of a crew chasing away UFO’s.”

No longer able to keep it in, you erupt into a fit of violent giggles, melting over the table top and letting the laughter shake your frame. Frankie watches you fondly, affection flooding his system and causing his insides to warm pleasantly.

He was still trying to work out how he was here, with a beautiful woman, having great conversations, fun conversations, and laughing more than he had in… shit… a long time. It was refreshing and, if he were completely honest with himself, slightly nerve-wracking. Nothing ever stays so perfect, and that thought had him ensuring he was enjoying every second he could with you before you inevitably realised you were incredibly out of his league and went looking elsewhere.

But… how could you ever? When you peak up at him, you can’t help but study the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles, the way his dimples deepen in his cheek, and you honestly couldn’t imagine anywhere else in the world you’d rather be. It was… scary. You’d only known him a couple of weeks, and you were feeling like this?

The night melts away before you both even know it happens and soon, you’re snatching up the bill before he can move, and walking out onto the street, Frankie’s arm slung around your shoulders and keeping you pressed close up to his side as a sharp late evening breeze sweeps through you both.

“You’re not serious.”

“I am.”

“Chickens?”

“I’m sorry, but have you ever been chased by a rooster? Those things are fucking vicious, Frankie.”

He grins, shaking his head. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Okay, well what about you?”

“Heights.”

What?

You frown, “But you’re a pilot?”

“I can handle heights if I can control the situation. Flying is easy – I know what to do when I need to do it. It’s when something’s out of my control – falling off a cliff and shit. It’s just… a long way down.” He’s quiet, obviously dwelling on something before he’s shaking his head and smiling, “Do you have a favourite book?”

The short walk to your car takes longer with the leisurely pace you both had unconsciously set, wanting to milk the remaining minutes of the date as much as you could before having to part ways.

“Thank you for dinner.” He spins you into his arms and you laugh quietly, smiling.

“You’re welcome.”

Silence falls over you both as you regard the other.

Frankie… your voice is so quiet, the soft whisper of it dances in his ears, igniting a fire through his veins. He unconsciously presses himself closer, lost in the way your lashes flutter when you look at him. You raise a hand, fingers trailing softly against his jaw and he turns his face into your touch, chasing the feeling of your warm fingertips as they glide up and around his neck.

“Kiss me?”

He smiles, enjoying the way your face scrunches slightly as he nuzzles his nose against yours, “Say please,” he mutters playfully, grin widening when you breathe a quiet giggle.

“Please kiss me, Francisco.”

Oh shit.

You don’t miss the way his face slackens for a brief moment, eyes widening and breath seemingly getting caught in his throat. He swallows, the flicker of a flame that had been burning lowly in his stomach suddenly blazes red hot and then he’s moving, hands cupping your cheeks and claiming your mouth with an intensity that had your knees buckling the second his lips touched yours.

You melt instantly, unable to stop the small whimper that bubbles from your mouth as his tongue traces teasingly along your lip. You open your mouth automatically, tongue immediately sliding greedily along his. His mouth was hot, rough against yours, and the grunt he lets out when your fingers dig into the dark curls at the nape of his neck has a delicious heat shooting to your core, your hips rolling against his.

Fuck. Did you just grind on him?

The sudden stab of panic at potentially going too far is quickly extinguished when his hands fly to your hips, pulling you impossibly closer and keeping you tight up against him while his fingers dig hungrily into your flesh.

The sudden blaring of a car alarm has you both jumping apart and a mile high, Frankie’s hands tightening on you instinctively, and it’s not until you look around that you discover it’s your car making that God awful noise that is ripping your ear drums apart.

“Shit,” you fumble for your keys, quickly pressing the button while Frankie chuckles into the skin of your throat, hands softly rubbing up and down along your waist to calm you. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s my fault.” He grins, not at all remorseful for causing such a big disturbance. “It was probably for the best – any longer and we might’ve been arrested for indecent exposure.” The words are growled playfully against your skin, but you can’t help thinking he wasn’t far from the truth. You laugh, wrapping your arms tightly around his torso and placing a final kiss on the corner of his lips.

“Drive safe,” you say as he begins to pull back, and he smiles warmly at you.

“You too.”

You slip into your car, watch him disappear down the street and sigh dreamily, body working on auto-pilot for the drive home while your head remains firmly in the clouds. You could only hope you had actually somewhat paid attention to the road and didn’t miss any stop signs or red lights.

Your phone goes off in your hand when you eventually walk through the door to your apartment, and you read the text as you shrug off your jacket. Your eyes have to read it back and forth a few times before the words actually sink in, and then you’re holding it to your chest, delicately cradling the device while you rest heavily on your door, heat flushing along your cheeks.

I’ve thought about whether or not I should say this the entire drive home, but fuck it... miss you already.

Well, fuck.

Delivering a sharp little karate chop to the remaining flat cushion on your couch to fluff it, you place it with the others and then neaten the edges of the blanket hanging over the back, casting one final glance around your apartment and trying to imagine seeing it through a visitor’s eyes.

Clean.

Really clean.

Frankie was picking you up for a ‘mystery date’, which meant – naturally – you had spent the entire day scrubbing every surface in your apartment until it looked like you semi-had your life together. Did you inhale more bleach than what is probably considered healthy? Most definitely. Do you regret it? No. Will your apartment ever be this clean again? Also probably a no.

Checking the time, you’re startled to see how long you had spent fluffing fucking pillows and chant curses as you run to your room, kicking the clothes you rip off under your bed to deal with later and quickly pulling on the outfit it had definitely not taken you two hours to decide on. Your eyes dart to the alarm clock next to your bed when a knock on the door echoes throughout your small home.

Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, he’s on time –

God, why can’t he just show up half an hour late like the others? You immediately regret giving him the code to your building… that could’ve bought you an extra few minutes.

Stupid perfect face with his stupid perfect punctuality –

You open the door with a grin, hoping your forehead doesn’t look as sweaty as it feels, face softening when you find Frankie standing on the other side with a little potted houseplant cradled in his palms. He sees your eyes fall to it curiously and holds it out to you, your fingers brushing his when you carefully take it from his hands.

“You said flowers make you sad when they die, so…” he shrugs lightly, a gentle smile curling his lips.

Oh.

Emotion claws at your throat as your fingers trace the patterned leaves softly. Not only had he paid attention and actually listened to you during your many conversations, he had gone out of his way to find you a gift you could nurture, one that wouldn’t inevitably end up in the trash after a week or two of blossoming.

You swallow the sudden lump in your throat, clearing your throat quietly before glancing up at him, shy and overwhelmed by the wave of adoration that inundates you.

“Thank you, Frankie. I love it.”

And he knows you really do. He can hear it in your voice, sees the gratitude shining in your eyes. He follows you as you turn back into your apartment, eyes following you fondly as you walk around, eyeing potential places to situate your new addition.

“I think he looks good there.” You say, turning to confirm his approval over your shoulder after you situate it in the middle of your small dining table. He smiles, nodding his support and watching you turn back to look at the plant, taking his own little minute to admire you and the way you look bathed in the bright afternoon sun shining through your windows.

Fuck. He was captivated, completely infatuated by someone he had only known, what – three weeks? He should be nervous, should be alarmed that such strong feelings had developed so quickly, but he couldn’t bring himself to feel anything other than joy – hope. Maybe this could be it, you and him. Endgame.

Fuck. Don’t get ahead of yourself.

His arms open automatically when you saunter up to him, enveloping you into a warm embrace while you press an appreciative kiss to his cheek.

“So, this mystery date,” you say, pulling back to gaze up at him while your hands wrap loosely around his neck, “will I need a jacket?”

“Yes,” he nods, grinning when your brows pinch in contemplation. “You’ll never guess so don’t hurt you head trying.” Lips press against your forehead and you press back into the soft touch, heart jumping at the tender gesture.

“Minigolf?” You question, looking up at the colourful entrance.

“Is that okay? If not, we can go somewhere else –”

He’s nervous – you can hear it in his voice.

Easing his anxiety, you shake your head and grin, “It’s perfect.”

You watch him relax, a pleased smile curling his lips, and then your hand is in his as he leads you through the gate and to the reception area to pay. The both of you meander outside once collecting your clubs and balls, and you feel childishly giddy at all the bright colours and fun obstacles set throughout, bouncing slightly in excitement as you walk to the first hole.

“Do you know what you’re doing?” He asks around a grin, head tilting as he watches you set up and take your position.

“This isn’t my first time,” you hum, shifting on your feet and lining up your shot. Swinging the golf club gently, you watch the neon orange ball bounce along the walls and finish up teeteringly on the edge of the cup before falling in with a satisfying clunk.

“Oh, by the way,” you spin, smirking, “I kick ass at minigolf.”

“Good,” he returns your smirk, gently nudging you out the way, “I don’t have to take it easy on you, then.”

What had started out as fun, quickly becomes competitive, and with competition comes foul play. Frankie had pinched your sides when you went to hit your ball, your body jolting with a yelp of surprise as he exploited your ticklish spots. In return, you knocked his golf club when he swung, and giggled wildly when he immediately turned on you, wrapping you in a tight hold and raining scratchy kisses along your throat in punishment.

The afternoon melts into evening with mix of steady conversation, laughter and hidden kisses behind obstacles – Frankie stealing the breath right from your lungs when he crowds you against the side of the colourfully decorated windmill and claims your mouth, the crowds of other couples and families wandering around the course oblivious to the two of you hidden in the shadows.

If he was trying to work you up, it was working. He had to know what he was doing to you, had to know how all-consuming his presence was when he swept you up into kiss after kiss. You were so wrapped up in the touches he would caress you with, so focused on the feel of his moustache as it tickled the skin above your lip, that you were completely unaware you were losing… until you peaked at the card Frankie kept sticking out of his back pocket (totally not because you were checking out his ass) and the wave of vicious competitiveness shadows the overwhelming desire to jump him right in the middle of the course on the artificial turf.

Payback.

The next course, you took your short as normal, squirming as you feel Frankie come to stand right behind you. Focus –

Breathe, he’s not there. Breathe, he’s not there. Breathe –

Goosebumps rise along your arms in waves, the skin on the back of your neck prickling as he ghosts his curved nose down the column of your throat, your head tilting ever so slightly to allow him more access.

Fuck. No, breathe –

You swing the club, satisfaction rolling through you when the ball ends up in the cup perfectly in one shot. He’s slightly shocked, incredibly impressed, and presses a soft kiss of praise just below your ear. You watch as he takes your place, dropping his ball on the ground and readying his posture.

God, you need to stop looking at him like that.

The golf club feels loose in his grip, palms clammy from the fiery gaze locked onto the back of his neck as he hunches over for his turn. He feels a presence behind him but doesn’t pay any mind to it, and instead pays all of his attention to lining up the ball, mentally calculating what sort of angle he’d need to get it through the tunnel and around the winding corners to the cup a short dip below.

The cool puff of air suddenly blowing past and tickling his ear makes him fumble, the ball missing the tunnel and bouncing off of the sides and rolling back to his feet. He sighs, eyeing you over his shoulder with a playful frown as you blink innocently back at him.

He lines up again, tensing when warm hands work their way under his jacket, resting softly on his hips. He could feel the heat of your palms through his t-shirt and clears his throat, shifting on his feet and trying to focus back on the ball. You nuzzle your nose into his neck, teeth nipping lightly at his skin when he swings the golf club softly. Another miss. Frankie watches the ball return again, stopping at his feet with a light knock to his shoe.

“Yeah, that’s right, Morales – I’m onto you.” Your soft voice rings in his ear and he grins, knocking the ball into position with his club. “You may play dirty… but I do, too – try again.”

The words settle hotly in his stomach.

“You think you can win?”

“I know I can.” You all but purr into his ear.

He blocks you out then, focusing everything he has on getting that stupid fucking pink ball through the tunnel. He’s got it this time. This time –

Fingers dive under his shirt and his stomach jumps as they trace along his hot skin, slowly following along the waistband of his jeans teasingly. Fire shoots through his veins, muscles clenching under the feather light touches, your nails softly dragging along his skin.

Fucking Christ –

“Are you just going to stand here all day, Francisco?” You question slyly, voice soft and mocking. At your teasing, both verbal and physical, he hits the ball a little harder than intended and it bounces off the turf entirely and into the bushes lining the course.

You’re smug as you watch it disappear into the shrubs, “I’d say that’s forfeit.”

You go to step away when he starts to turn, but a hand grabs your wrist and keeps you flush against him, your insides somersaulting as his dark eyes burn through you.

“You’re trouble.” He accuses gruffly, heart still hammering in his chest while his skin burns from the ghost of your touches.

“You love it.”

He does.

Fuck, he does. Too much.

“Come on, loser,” you murmur, lips leaving a whisper of a kiss against his. “I’m hungry.” And with that, you turn, winking cheekily at him from over your shoulder, and he watches you walk away with a dumbfounded expression before he follows along behind you, jeans feeling a little tighter than what they did before.

The tension is stifling in the truck on the drive home. You feel your heart beating in your ears, the anticipation bubbling in your chest growing with every mile Frankie travels closer to your apartment. You were aching. Physically in fucking pain, and rubbing your thighs together was doing nothing to soothe the insistent throbbing from your core.

All that playful teasing, the touches and the rough kisses during the day, had caught up, and it was destroying you.

Frankie had briefly mentioned Mena staying with his parents for the night, and it had kickstarted your thoughts into overdrive. Was that a hint? Was he giving you a green light to potentially take this further? Was he saying he would be open to staying over? Was he asking to?

You were worried you were thinking on it too much, maybe getting the wrong idea and he was just expressing how nice it would be to have a night all to himself, but then his hand landed on your thigh and squeezed, and any inklings of doubt all but vanished.

He watches you from the corner of his eye, trying to focus on the road and not the way you keep shifting in your seat. He feels every time you squeeze your thighs together, feels the muscles move under his hand, and he physically has to stop himself from making a noise every time you do. Do you have any idea what you’re doing to him?

Your building comes into view and then he’s pulling up outside, removing his hand from your thigh and throwing the truck into park, letting it idle while you study the structure and get your thoughts together. Swallowing the sudden spike of nerves that settle in your stomach, you look to Frankie and find him already watching you quietly.

For a moment, you say nothing, and he doesn’t bother filling the silence. He lets you have all the time you need while you decide on your next move. Not that you need much time – you know exactly what you want.

“Do you want to come up?” You ask quietly, watching his eyes darken as they flicker to your building before returning to you. You watch his Adams apple bob as he swallows, and then he’s nodding, turning the keys in the ignition and the truck cuts out beneath you.

Tags: @anu-simps @seasonschange-butpeopledont @withasideofmeg @you-got-me-starry-eyed @emilykjh @peterhollandkait @sara-alonso @starlightsearches @bookishofalder @empress-palpat1ne @shadowolf993 @rosiefridayrogersunday @canyonmirrors @eoz-stuff @blackonemasie @layniapetrovnaaa @alberta-sunrise @betterthanbucky @linkpk88 @afootnoteinyourhappiness @livilottie @hailmaryyramliah @kesskirata @blueeyesatnight @a-perfct-stranger

#frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales x you #francisco morales x reader #francisco morales x f!reader #francisco morales x you #frankie morales #francisco morales #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal #triple frontier #triple frontier fic #benny miller

553 notes · View notes

hispipsqueak · 3 years

Text

Forever

Hanta Sero x F!Reader NSFW

Summary: After years of being together, you and Sero decide to reminisce in the best way possible.

WC: 2.2K

A/N: Hi friends! Sero is one of those characters that I truly see as good husband material and I wanted to express some of those feelings in this piece. I know for a lot of us, especially in my age range, growing up and leaving that age of “dumb teenager/early 20′s mess” to “adult with responsibilities” is a big change and I hope that is reflected a bit in this. Also, there’s car sex. So that’s fun :D As always, likes and reblogs are very much appreciated! Thanks for reading <3 P.S: CAN WE TALK ABOUT SERO IN THE NEW EP??? ahhhh

TW: car sex, adulting/getting older, domestic relationship, daddy kink, breeding kink, mentions of drug use

Sero's eyes stared at the glowing screen, trying to comprehend the information yet again.

His gaze darted toward the corner, 3:36 A.M., and he yawned, before blinking and trying to re-read the document again.

"Hey pretty boy."

The smell of jasmine perfume and honey wafted in and he smiled sleepily as you ran your fingers through his shaggy black hair.

"Mm...I know, I know." He muttered, nuzzling into your touch. You were his rock, always making sure he ate well and slept enough, making sure he wouldn't overwork himself. Sero thought back to your UA days of sneaking out at 3 AM to some fast food joint and getting stoned while eating greasy fries in the back of his car. Time sure flew, huh?

You rested your head on his shoulder and pressed a kiss to his neck.

"Come to bed. Paperwork will still be there in the morning, I promise.", you muttered into his soft skin. He relented and pulled himself out of the chair, twirling you around so he had you pressed against the wall.

His eyes roamed your face. You were still gorgeous as the day he first laid eyes on you in high school.

"Whatcha thinkin' about, Hanta?" you whispered. He grinned, that toothy smirk that you fell in love with unchanged after all these years, and kissed you.

"Just reminiscing. Thinking about how far we've come. Remember when we were annoying teenagers, sneaking out of the dorms?"

"I'm pretty sure we are the reason for Aizawa's grey hairs now. Remember when your van broke down and we had to beg Bakugo to pick us up at 4 A.M.?" you giggled back, thinking of the blonde's angry scolding the entire ride home.

The two of you chuckled quietly, thinking about the years past. You glanced down at your hand, the sparkling diamond that adorned it shining in the dim room.

"I remember the day you proposed too. I'm pretty sure I thought you were going to dump me." you teased.

Even in the dark, you could see his face flush and his eyes narrow.

"I was NERVOUS. I was trying to ask the love of my life to spend the rest of our lives together and you just sat there being beautiful and Denki spent the day before trying to convince me to do a flash mob and it was a LOT of pressure!"

"You literally started off with, 'We've had some bad times, and some good times, and this was fun'." You laughed, picturing his face that day. He was sweating bullets and your heart was sinking, thinking he was ending it. He had been so secretive and weird the weeks prior, as opposed to his normally chilled out demeanor.

Sero kissed your forehead.

"I still have no idea why you said yes, but you're stuck with me, babe." He clinked his matching band against yours, a gesture the two of you did to remind yourselves of your unbreakable bond.

His long arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you close to him and you buried yourself into his chest, smelling his citrus-scented soap. He rested his chin on your hair.

"When did we get so old, Y/N?" He whispered, his eyes looking at the walls behind you. Pictures of the two of you decorated the house. The pair of you in matching sunglasses at the beach, a group photo of you two and the squad at dinner after the aforementioned proposal, a candid on your wedding day, and then the two of you holding your twin boys.

"I'm pretty sure after we became parents." you mumbled into his chest, your sleepiness apparent in your voice. "I think once I had to say Daddy in a non-sexual way, was when I realized we were old."

Sero chuckled quietly, his hands squeezing your waist.

"But, we're still cool right? We aren't our parents."

You looked up at him, eyebrows raised.

"Hanta, are you worried about getting older?"

He closed his eyes.

"Not worried as much as...I just...I don't wanna be an old guy who drives a minivan and talks about retirement and golf."

Your eyes widened and you burst into laughter.

"Baby, I'm pretty sure you would never take up golf."

Sero pouted and you grinned before continuing.

"But in all seriousness, we aren't the kids we were in high school. Maybe we can't pull all nighters and still function the next day, and maybe we have to be parents who eat more vegetables and less french fries. But it's also nice to have a car that doesn't require a running start to move, and have a house instead of sneaking in and out of each other's dorm rooms. And you know, the kids are KIND OF cool."

He nodded.

"They are pretty cool kids."

You cupped his face, tilting him towards you.

"If I have to grow old with someone, I'm glad it's with you."

His face flushed and he pressed his lips to yours, kissing you deeply. You gently tugged at the longer hair behind his ears as you kissed him back. He let out a low groan and his hands kneaded at your curves, squeezing your ass and hips.

Finally, the two of you broke apart, breathless and grinning. He pressed his forehead to yours.

"How about…we reminisce a little more? Maybe...in the car, for old time's sake?"

You nodded and the two of you headed to the garage, trying to stay as quiet as possible to not wake up the kids. Sero opened the car door and the two of you slid in the backseat, giggling like teenagers.

You straddled him and could feel his cock through his joggers. He groaned as you grinded against it, teasing him with hungry hot kisses to his neck.

“You’re such a tease, princess.” He whispered before tracing the shell of your ear with his tongue. Your body shivered at his touch. Even after all this time, he made you feel like a lovestruck schoolgirl. You ran your hands down his toned chest, his body lean from hero work, and slid your fingers underneath his shirt.

Sero took this as an invitation to pull off his black tank top and you did the same to your sleeping shirt, an old band tee that you snagged from him. His hands cupped your breasts, slowly kneading the soft flesh as he placed soft kisses on your collarbone and shoulder.

“Mmm...you’re so fucking beautiful. How the hell did I get so damn lucky, babe?” He said between kisses. Sero had a way of making you feel like the sexiest woman in the world and you couldn’t help but smile as he worshipped your breasts, kissing and licking his way down till he latched his mouth over your nipple.

Using his other hand to tweak and tug at the hardened bud, he alternated between the two, sucking and leaving soft bites. Your back arched involuntarily, pushing your chest deeper into his mouth as you moaned.

“Fuck…need you Hanta.”

His long fingers worked their way down your belly, tracing circular patterns as he reached your sex. He ran a finger across your slit, barely parting your folds.

“What do you want, baby? Tell Daddy what you want.”

“Please...please touch me. Please daddy.” you begged, grinding yourself against him for the smallest amount of friction. You could feel yourself leaving a mess on his sweatpants, but you needed his touch.

He let out a deep chuckle.

“So desperate, huh baby? Let daddy take care of you.” You bit your lip as he plunged two fingers into your cunt. The length, combined with the hooking motion had you gasping. He continued to plunge in and out of your sopping heat as you rocked against him. Your thighs tensed, threatening to close on his arm. He maneuvered the two of you so you were laying on your back across the seat, his hand gripping your soft thighs, holding you in place as he finger-fucked you.

“Take it like a good girl baby. Let daddy make you feel good. You look so beautiful for me baby.” He praised you as he pushed deeper into you. You could feel him hit spots in you that made you see stars. All you could do was lay back and cry from the overwhelming pleasure that clouded your brain.

“Fuck...daddy, gonna cum soon!” you wailed, eyes rolling back. Hanta then chose this moment to pull his fingers from you, leaving your pussy to clench around nothing. You let out a frustrated whimper, tears leaking from your eyes.

“I’m so sorry baby, but I promise I’m gonna make it all better. You trust me baby?” He asked, his eyes dark with desire and something primal.

You nodded, sniffling at the shock of your orgasm being ripped from you. He tapped your lips with his fingers,still dripping of your arousal. Obediently, you opened and sucked on the two fingers, tasting yourself.

“Look how good you taste baby. You’re such a good girl for me. I want you to lick up every last drop from my fingers. Can you do that for daddy?” He asked, grinning.

Nodding dumbly, you slurped down every bit of yourself from his hand. He pressed against your tongue, making you gag around him. You looked up at him, drool falling from the corners of your mouth.

Hanta felt his cock twitch. Fuck you looked so sexy, so fucked and in love. He could see the devotion in your eyes as you looked at him awaiting his next instructions.

He pulled his hand back, strings of saliva hanging off of his calloused fingers. He propped himself above you so he was looking right down at your gorgeously fucked out face.

“You ready baby? You ready to take all of Daddy’s cock?” He asked, tugging your shorts down and lining himself up with your entrance. Your fingers found their way to his neck, tugging him close to you. The two of you shared a deep kiss, exchanging unspoken promises and memories before breaking apart. You nodded, looking deep into his eyes.

“Always."

Hanta felt his face flush, before slowly pressing into your tight heat. You bit your lip. No matter how many times the two of you had done this, you still had to prepare for his length. He wasn’t the thickest but his cock was long and lean just like him, with a curve that pressed itself right against your most sensitive spots.

“Fuck...you feel so good for me. You’re squeezing me so well baby.” He murmured, his dark eyes drinking in every inch of your body. His hands ran up and down your sides as he looked down at you and he gave you a small grin as he pinched your hip. You dug your fingertips into his shoulder blades, pulling him flush against you.

“Oh fuck you feel so good.” You rocked your hips against him, rolling yourself onto his cock. He took this as a cue to go faster and started to piston deeper inside of you, his balls slapping against your ass. His tip slammed against your walls, burying him deeper inside you. Moans and sighs filled the backseat and you gripped him tightly.

“That’s it babe, that’s it. Taking daddy so fucking deep. Fuck you’re sucking me in so well. I might have to knock you up again if you keep it up. You want that princess? Want daddy to put another baby inside you?” Hanta panted, hungrily kissing your neck and shoulder as he fucked into you faster. His teeth nipped at the thin skin and you cried out, from a mixture of pain and pleasure. “Answer me baby girl.”

“Y-yes daddy! Please fill me up with your cum. Need you so bad. Wan’a have your baby.” You moaned, delirious from him. The windows to the car were foggy and sweat ran down your bodies as you repeatedly crashed into each other, and yet all you could feel was him, all you wanted was to stay with him and please him as much as you could.

He could feel his release rapidly approaching. His hand snaked down to your clit and he pressed tight circles to the sensitive bud. Your back arched from the seat as you moaned out a mixture of curses and begs. Your mindless babbling spurred him on more. He wanted to keep fucking you, make it so you couldn’t remember your own name, drive you insane with desire and want.

“Tell me who’s fucking you so good baby. Who’s making you feel so fucking good? Who’s cum do you want to fill that tight little pussy of yours?” He breathed out, slamming into you impossibly faster.

“Daddy daddy daddy - DADDY!” you chanted, your mind fuzzy as you tightened around him, creaming on his cock. You wrapped your legs around his waist and rode out your high on his cock as your eyes fluttered and your mouth dropped open.

“That’s it, that’s it, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” He groaned out as he released into you, filling you with his seed. His cock twitched, spurting his load into you and his fingers gripped your hips, holding you tightly as he filled you up.

The two of you panted, breathing hard as you came down from your highs, slowly moving into a position where he could hold you. He moved some strands of hair, plastered to your face with sweat, and pressed a soft kiss to your temple.

“I love you.”

You grinned, sleepiness overtaking your body as you leaned into him, your lips pressing against his skin.

“Forever.”

#sero x reader #hanta sero smut #hanta sero x reader #sero smut #bnha smut #mha smut #my hero academia smut #boku no hero academia smut #hanta sero #sero hanta #domestic sero

440 notes · View notes

egcdeath · 3 years

Text

an apple a day

pairing: soft!ransom drysdale x reader

summary: it seems like an apple a day couldn’t keep the doctor or ransom away.

warnings: sickfic, a lot of fluff, brief mention of throwing up

word count: 2k

author’s note: join my taglist if you’d like! all feedback is appreciated <3

Ransom

U busy?

4:37 PM

Ransom

😏🍆😈

4:38 PM

Ransom

Wow ignoring me?????

5:24 PM

Ransom

Bitch

5:34 PM

Ransom

🙄

5:36 PM

A frantic pounding on your front door pulled you from a bizarre dream within your feverish slumber. You peeled the slightly damp cloth that rest upon your face from your sweaty skin, and lazily tossed it to the floor before audibly groaning.

“Coming,” you whimpered out, hoping that it was loud enough for whomever was at the door.

“Fuckin’ better be,” a voice grumbled as a response.

You rolled over slightly, whole body sore from the sickness that was currently ailing you, and willed yourself to get off of your sofa. Swinging your legs over the left side of the piece of furniture you managed to get up, and sluggishly made your way to the door, ignoring the ache of your neck from resting it on an arm rest.

It seemed like with every step you took, your sinus headache throbbed harder between your eyes, and your fever cooked you a bit more from the inside out.

After what felt like a lifetime, you got to your door and opened it, only to be greeted by your… well, you didn’t really know what he was to you.

“Christ, Y/N. You look like shit,” Ransom commented, raising his brows. “Did you get hit by a car or something?”

You gave him a blank look, and said nothing.

“Is this a bad time?”

“What do you think, dickhead?”

“You’ve had better days,” he shrugged nonchalantly.

“Okay, goodbye,” you rolled your eyes and slammed the door on him, finding yourself slightly out of breath as you lethargically shuffled away.

You collapsed back onto the sofa, and reached for a blue tissue box that sat on your coffee table. Did that even happen? Did you imagine Ransom coming to your door? Or was that part of your fever dream?

Settling back, and pulling a wool blanket over yourself, you began to doze off once again, not really having the energy to do anything else.

Ransom

I’m s-word

6:12 PM

Ransom

I’m not gonna say it

6:13 PM

Ransom

But you know what I mean

6:15 PM

Ransom

I’m coming back over baby

6:17 PM

You hadn’t even noticed the vibrating of your phone, as it was currently lodged under a mountain of pillows and cushions. It also helped that you were asleep once again.

This time when you woke up, Ransom was in your apartment, rambling about some encounter he had while he was out dealing with the public for you.

How was he even in your apartment? You felt like you missed a few steps.

“Sit up,” he commanded, setting down a plastic take-out bag, along with the spare keys you kept under your welcome mat on top of your coffee table, before dragging a seat from your kitchen into your living room.

The seat finally came to a stop in front of you, and you listlessly sat up. You watched as Ransom wordlessly opened the bag, revealing a massive container of a clear broth soup, and an equally large baguette.

“Am I dreaming?” You asked aloud.

“Why would you be dreaming? ‘Cause I did something nice? Or because I’m that hot?”

“Because I have a high fever that’s making me delusional,” you told him, and his brows furrowed once again.

“Let me see,” he mumbled, pressing the back of his hand against your forehead, and humming in thought, “Yeah, you’re pretty hot,” he agreed.

“Thank you, Captain Obvious,” you mumbled, a random churn in your stomach suddenly taking a huge blow out of you.

“Hey, I did a good thing for you. Don’t get bitchy with me now,” he snapped, narrowing his eyes slightly at you.

You sighed as a response, and Ransom gave you a little smirk before going to open the lid of the soup container.

“Open up wide, Beloved,” Ransom said in a playful tone. If you had the energy, you’d shoot something sassy back at him, but you were finding yourself in less of a state to do so with every passing moment. You simply followed along with his orders, opening your lips so Ransom could deliver a little spoonful of soup into your mouth.

“Mm,” you audibly reacted to the liquid, “did you make this yourself?”

“Hm, you must be sicker than I thought,” he chuckled and dabbed the edge of your lip where a droplet of soup was left behind. “I picked it up on my way back over.”

“It’s really good,” you hummed, “feed me more.”

Ransom scoffed fondly, “you’re lucky I like you.” He began, dishing out another spoonful to you.

You paused to chew on a softened carrot, “you should’ve known that sick me’s demands of you were gonna be a lot more.”

Ransom rolled his eyes, and went back to feeding you. You were both quiet for a moment, maintaining a heavy eye contact while he fed you, until out of the blue, your stomach turned.

Your mouth filled with saliva as you realized what exactly was going on, and you rushed off of the couch with an obscene swiftness, just barely making it to your bathroom before you were emptying your stomach into it.

Ransom quickly showed up behind you, making his presence known by lifting your hair out of your face, and rubbing supportive circles onto your back. He cringed as he listened to you heave into the bowl, and when you finally leaned back, he used a thumb to wipe away the few tears that had begun to slip down your face.

“You okay?” he questioned, squatting down to your level.

“Just peachy,” you choked out hoarsely.

“Maybe you’ll feel better after a shower?” he suggested, flushing your sickness down the toilet while you attempted to catch your breath.

“Okay, yeah,” you began hesitantly.

“I’ll stay in here if you want me to make sure nothing bad happens?”

“You just wanna be a perv,” you weakly giggled.

“I’m just trying to be a supportive… I’m trying to be supportive,” Ransom found his way back up, and turned on the shower’s nozzle.

“Mhm, I’m sure,” you began kicking off your sweatpants when you heard the water begin to putter down, and gestured for Ransom to help you lift off your sweatshirt once he was facing you once again.

“I can’t believe you’re using up the last of that energy to have an attitude with me,” Ransom pulled you out of your shirt, then helped you up and began to direct you toward the shower.

You were more or less silent from there on out, focusing on maintaining your balance in the slippery room. Your brain seemed to become increasingly cloudy with every extra puff of steam. You leaned against the slightly warm tiles of your wall as you attempted to get through the genuinely hellish shower for a few minutes before deciding it wasn’t really worth it, and stumbling back out.

“Was I right? Did it help?” Ransom asked after your period of silence, handing you some fresh clothing that he’d grabbed from your closet sometime between the time you got in and out of the shower.

You shook your head, “shower kinda made everything worse,” you muttered, pulling a new shirt over your head. “My head is killing me. I think I just need to be in a dark room, or go back to sleep, or something.”

You sluggishly pulled on the rest of your clothes, then sniffled as you walked out to your bedroom. As you made your way to your bed, you pushed aside a mountain of tissues from earlier in the… day? Week? With all the sleeping you’d been doing, you genuinely

couldn’t tell what time or day it was. You slipped into one side of the bed, and grabbed a pillow that you promptly hugged.

Ransom slipped into bed beside you, a bottle of cold medicine in hand– when did he leave long enough to get you cold medicine?– and watched the tissues on your side of the bed fall onto the floor in a slightly disturbed manner. Yeah, he was definitely getting sick after this.

“Open,” he ordered, and you happily obliged, opening your mouth a bit so he could pour some medicine down your throat. You dramatically gagged, then wiped the corners of your lips.

“Gross, Ran,” you muttered, burying your face into a different pillow.

“Well, it’ll probably make you feel better. I brought you water for a chaser if you’d like. You probably need to stay hydrated, or some shit like that.”

When did he get water?? Probably when he was getting the medicine. But that would’ve taken him like, five minutes. And getting in bed didn’t take you that long. Right?

You were pulled out of your confused internal monologue by a pink plastic straw being brought to your lips, and you instinctively drank from it. You weren’t completely sure if it was all mental, or the medicine was kicking in extremely fast, but you were starting to feel a little loopy. Maybe time was being weird again because of your sickness.

“I feel like I’m dying. You and your stupid showers made me die,” you whined, pushing away the straw.

“I was only trying to help,” he insisted as he set the drink down on your bedside table.

“I’m your second murder victim,” you continued.

Ransom paused and looked down at you with raised brows, “what?”

“Y’know, I saw what you did to that delivery girl who was bringing me soup. You better clean that body up before I get better, ‘cause ‘mgonna be pissed if I have to do that myself.”

“Okay, I don’t know if you’ve been seeing things the whole time, or if the medicine is rewriting your memories. Either way, I think it’s time for you to go to bed,” he chuckled.

“You’re right. Night,” you hummed before turning on your side and closing your eyes. It was pretty much lights out from there.

——

When you awoke, it was to the piercing bright light of a laptop screen that broke through the darkness of night. You had to blink a few times for your vision to focus, but… was Ransom in bed next to you? Looking at a WikiHow article? If you weren’t completely mistaken, you could make out a faint How to Help A Sick Person Feel Better: 8 Steps (with pictures).

You sleepily reached out and grabbed his wrist, letting him know that you were finally awake. He quickly clicked out of the tab, pulling up his Twitter feed instead.

“Hi,” you greeted. “Why’re you being secretive?”

“I’m not,” he huffed.

“You are.”

“You’re still delusional from the medicine.”

“Probably. But you’re being secretive. And you’re bad at it.”

“Whatever,” you could practically hear the eye roll in his tone.

“It’s late, Ran. Why’re you still up?”

“I just wanted to, y’know…” he trailed off.

“To…?” you pressed.

“I wanted to make sure nothing would happen to you while you slept,” he rushed out. “Happy?”

You swooned aloud at this, “you are such a sucker. Put that laptop down and cuddle me.”

Ransom said nothing, but set the device into your night stand, and wrapped an arm around you, “‘re you feeling any better?” he mumbled as he relaxed into you.

“Kinda. We’ll see in the morning,” you slipped your hand down on top of his, and Ransom promptly moved it.

“You’re already pushing it tonight.”

“You’re always such a dick,” you scoffed with a laugh. “Goodnight, asshat.”

“Goodnight, you sick bitch,” he quipped back.

——

When you awoke in the morning, you couldn’t help but to notice how much better you were feeling. No headache, no nausea, a little fatigue, but hey, you just woke up, and that was to be expected.

As you sat up and glanced to your right, you found a pink-nosed Ransom with a box of empty Kleenex sat in his lap.

“Oh great, you’re awake,” he began in a nasally tone. “Since you wanted to get me sick, it’s your turn to take care of me,” he tossed the empty box at you, the cardboard falling softly onto your lap.

Something told you that this was going to be a long day.

#ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x you #ransom thrombey x reader #ransom thrombey x you #knives out #knives out fanfic #chris evans x reader #chris evans fanfiction #ransom drysdale

322 notes · View notes

kythed · 3 years

Text

“you can hear it in the silence” - a collection of conversations between you and futakuchi kenji.

1. april 14th, 7:56pm.

“it’s terribly boring, isn’t it?” the voice comes from right near your ear. you start, turning to see a young guy dressed in jeans, a tee, and a baseball cap, slouchy and messy in the most attractive and purposeful way. “the movie, I mean.”

you turn your eyes back towards the screen — some spanish neo-noir retelling of the same old “sexpot femme fatale turned domestic by a dashing hero with a horse” plotline. “yeah, it is. I only came so my film major friends would finally respect me.”

“that’s valid,” he whispers with a snort. an older man sitting beside him shushes him. “I only came so I could make fun of the people who only came to impress their film major friends.”

“oh, ouch,” you say, grinning. “way to attack like 90% of the foreign film audience.”

“I’d say it’s something more like 97%, actually,” he says, briefly glancing at the movie. the dark haired, sultry love interest is batting her lashes at the brooding protagonist, nightgown slipping off her shoulder. “the remaining 3% is horny teenagers who can’t yet figure out how to erase their search history.”

despite being in the middle of a crowded theater, you laugh, giggle echoing off the walls. several people turn around to shoot you dirty looks, and you immediately clap an apologetic over your mouth. oops.

“I’m kenji futakuchi,” your seat-neighbor whispers, extending a hand. “unprofessional film critic, engineering major, and thai tea hater. I’m willing to take you out for boba on our first date, but if you order thai tea it will also be our last.”

“bold of you to assume we’ll even have a first date,” you say, shaking his hand with another quiet laugh.

“oh, we will,” he says with what can only be described as a bona fide smirk. “I saw the way you were looking at me earlier.”

before you can respond, the curmudgeonly old man beside kenji leans over and scowls. “if you kids want to keep flirting, do so outside. some of us are here for cultural enrichment.”

kenji glances at you, face spelling out mischief. “you heard the man. shall we?”

for a moment, you consider saying no. but then reason kicks into gear and you stand up, dusting popcorn off your lap. “we shall.”

(discovery number one: your hand fits perfectly in his.)

2. may 2nd, 11:17am.

“you know, this actually isn’t so bad.” kenji takes another cautious sip. “still can’t hold a candle to jasmine.”

“I respect that,” you say, offering him a taste of your drink. “I feel like everyone who hates thai tea is just jumping on the bandwagon. it’s pretty decent.”

“you’re pretty decent,” he says petulantly, snatching your tea and replacing it with his own.

you roll your eyes. “your comebacks suck. still can’t believe I agreed to go out with you.”

kenji feigns a look of surprise. “oh, are we going out? I thought this was a platonic thing.”

you send a pointed look at his hand resting on your thigh, his thumb rubbing light circles in your skin.

kenji follows your gaze and suppresses a smile, shrugging. “friends do that.”

it’s a cool spring day, the air smelling of his cologne — vanilla, coffee, and burnt orange — and the eucalyptus growing in front of the cafe. the sunshine is fresh and pale, casting a glowy halo over kenji’s brunette mess of hair. he smiles rather angelically, as if he knows exactly what you’re thinking.

“and do friends do this?” you say softly, leaning forward so your nose is just centimeters from his.

kenji gulps, adam’s apple bobbing painfully in his throat. his voice cracks with his next words. “y-yeah. I do this with my buddies all the time. no homo.”

you slowly bring your hand up to cup his jaw, letting your eyes linger on his lips before glancing back up and smiling. “oh, good. ‘cause I do this with my girls all the time, too. full homo.”

“yeah?”

“mhm,” you purr, trying to channel some of that femme fatale energy, leaning even closer so you can feel his warm breath on your mouth — and then you pull away with a cackle, leaving kenji blinking down at you with reproach.

“women are so cruel,” he sighs wistfully, fanning his shirt and running a hand through his hair.

“sorry,” you chirp, not sorry at all. “I don’t kiss on the first date.”

“you don’t kiss on the first date?” kenji repeats. “so what’s the timeline — we hold hands today, and then you let me hug you next week, and then we kiss in a month, and then in like fifty years we finally fu—”

“kenji!” you say, whipping around. you’re scandalized. there’s a family with primary school aged kids sitting at the other table, shrieking with laughter and bouncing around like pinballs on a boba-fueled sugar high. “keep it PG.”

“I wasn’t gonna say anything bad,” kenji complains. “I was just gonna say that in fifty years we finally, uh… furbish the condo we purchase together.”

“sure you were,” you say, and kenji just laughs. there’s something in the way he looks at you… something soft and affectionate that makes you think he might actually intend to stick around for fifty years. it scares you a little — but in a good way.

later that day, when kenji drops you off at your front porch, you lean forward again. usually you keep your word, but today’s an exception.

(discovery number two: he tastes like colgate and thai tea.)

3. august 21st, 8:02am.

“what the hell,” you cough, squinting through the smoke. you can barely hear yourself over the shrill beeping of the fire alarm resounding around your apartment. “kenji?”

kenji emerges from behind the fridge, nonchalantly leaning on the wall with a nervous smile. “hey, baby. sleep well?”

“don’t you ‘hey, baby’ me, mister,” you say, marching forward, fanning the smoke away with your oversized sleep shirt. (well, technically it’s his shirt, and that’s why it’s oversized. it fits perfectly fine on him.) “what in the world did you do?”

“why is it that when something goes wrong you always automatically blame me?” he complains, coughing.

“because it’s always your fault,” you say, gently but firmly pushing him aside to reveal, sitting innocently on the counter… a smoking toaster with two pieces of bread (burnt nearly completely black) resting in the slots. oh lord. “kenji. babe. darling.”

“ooh, keep going, please,” kenji coos, yelping when you lightly pinch his elbow. “hey!”

he’s about to retaliate before you double over in laughter, holding onto the edge of the kitchen counter for support. you choke out giggles between breaths, hardly able to keep balance. “you — (wheeze) — you nearly burnt down the kitchen — (wheeze) — trying to make toast?”

“it’s not as easy as it looks,” kenji insists, gingerly picking the slices of bread (although they’re more like crackers now) out from the toaster. “I’m sorry that I wanted to do something nice for my beautiful girlfriend. and I’m sorry that the only thing I could handle was toast and coffee. well, technically just coffee, I guess.”

he picks up a mug from the counter and offers it to you. “it might be kinda cold now. sorry. I tried.”

he’s so earnest and adorable and lovely in that moment — standing in the middle of the clouded kitchen in just mismatched socks and an old pair of boxers, holding the coffee out for you to see — that you can hardly contain yourself.

“god, I love you,” you say without thinking, the last word catching in your throat as you look up. oh. oops. kenji’s staring at you, unblinking, big brown eyes filled with… surprise? “I mean, I meant —”

“you love me?”

“I, uh,” you falter. this isn’t you; you’re supposed to be the calm and collected one. “this isn’t how I wanted to say it, but—”

“but you do, right? you love me?” kenji sets the mug back down and pulls you in by the waist, grinning broadly and resting his forehead against yours. your heart is pulsing erratically, but a smile big enough to match his somehow finds its way onto your face. you nod, and kenji immediately kisses you hard, tangling his fingers in the back of your hair.

“I love you,” he says breathlessly after finally parting. you feel the uncomfortable warmth of your face and the swollenness of your lips... but you can’t quite bring yourself to care. “I love you a lot.”

“you love me so much that you even tried to make me toast,” you laugh. “and you brought me cold coffee in my second favorite mug.”

“no, wait,” says kenji, glancing back towards said mug. “that’s your favorite mug.”

“no, my favorite is the green one with the—”

“—with the orange flowers,” kenji groans in realization, slapping a limp, penitent hand to his cheek. “I’m a failure of a boyfriend. I deserve to go to boyfriend jail.”

“you do,” you agree, nodding solemnly. “but lucky for you, I have a get-out-of-jail-free card right here.”

“oh?” says kenji, a devilish smile quirking up the corners of his lips.

you hum and offer him your clenched fist, like you’re about to place something in his palm. but when he extends his own outstretched hand, you interlace your fingers with his instead. “yep. right here.”

“you think you’re so clever,” kenji sighs, nonetheless bringing your hand up to press a brief kiss to your knuckles.

“I do.” you shuffle towards the counter to take a sip of the coffee — sure enough, it’s cold. (but he still made it exactly the way you like it.) “c’mon. breakfast.”

(discovery number three: burnt toast doesn’t taste so bad when you eat it with someone you love.)

4. november 1st, 10:38pm.

the commute across town from your university to your apartment is on the longer side, around forty minutes. it feels even longer late at night, though, on your way home from your part time job.

the subway rattles on its tracks as it slows to rest at a stop (but not yours) and a handful of sleepy passengers stumble out, swinging briefcases and pulling their scarves a little tighter. you stifle a yawn, slumping back into your seat.

“you okay?”

you smile. ever since you got hired a couple months ago, kenji’s insisted on coming to “pick you up” from work to take the train back with you, even though he works all the way across town. (he’ll probably stay the night — he has a drawer full of his things at your place these days, complete with a dozen wrinkled t-shirts, old soccer shorts, and a bundle of irreparably tangled chargers. he hasn’t bothered to bring his own shampoo over yet, though, claiming that “yours smells so nice and fruity” and “men’s shampoo just smells like nondescript testosterone and insecurity.” he’s right of course, but all the same, you’d rather he not use up all of yours.)

“yeah, I’m okay,” you sigh, taking his hand and feeling him begin to rub circles on your palm. you close your eyes. “just tired.”

“hi ‘okay-just-tired,’ I’m dad,” kenji says slyly, and you open one incredulous eye.

“did you really…?”

“I really did,” kenji says, puffing up his chest. “you walked right into it.”

you groan and fall on top of him dramatically, burying your face in his thick fleece jacket. “I’m too dead for this. I’m like frankenstein before he was reanimated — just a bunch of limbs and organs in a useless, fleshy pile.”

“technically, he’s frankenstein’s monster,” says kenji, petting your hair absentmindedly. “frankenstein’s the name of the doctor. cute literary allusion, though.”

“do you ever shut up?” your voice comes out muffled by kenji’s coat, but not at all devoid of its intended irritation.

“occasionally,” he says as you lift your head. he pulls you closer with one arm until you’re practically sharing a seat, legs interlocked, your temple resting on his shoulder and his chin nestled in your hair. “when I’m sleeping. when I’m eating — well, sometimes. sometimes I talk with my mouth full.”

“yeah, I’ve borne witness to that,” you say, wrinkling your nose. you’ve tried to improve kenji’s table manners countless times (especially in light of your family’s thanksgiving dinner soon approaching), but it’s all been in vain. most likely because he enjoys seeing you get worked up about his not using a coaster, etc. “disgusting.”

“when I’m concentrating on physics,” he continues, as if he hadn’t heard you. “when I’m in the library. when I’m kissing pretty girls.”

he bends down and tries to give you a peck, but you gasp and dodge it. “girls? plural? you’re out here kissing pretty girls other than me?”

“when I’m kissing one specific pretty girl,” kenji corrects himself, grinning.

you feel your own grin stretch across your face. “and which pretty girl is that?”

“my pretty girl,” he says smugly, looking incredibly pleased with himself.

you scoff. “corny.”

“you like it.”

you chew on your inner cheek, trying and failing to suppress your smile. “you know I do.”

the train’s speakers crackle alive, a cool automated voice emanating from their unseen perches: “approaching hiwamari station. projected arrival in: 1 minute.”

“alright, time to wake up, sleeping beauty,” kenji huffs, lugging you onto your feet. you hang limp in his arms like a rag doll, unwilling to bear your own weight. “you are perfectly capable of standing. shape up before I alert the authorities, you hooligan.”

“hmm,” you groan, finally arighting yourself with some difficulty. you want to ask where in the world he learned the word ‘hooligan,’ but your brain can hardly afford you even the most basic cognition right now. “it’s too late, and my knees hurt, and I’m tired, and I saw an ad for that new vietnamese place at the last station, and now I want banh mi. but I can’t have banh mi because there’s none on this side of town, and that irritates me.” you take a deep breath. “also, I’m cold.”

kenji laughs and slips a loose arm around your waist as the doors slide open, gently guiding you down onto the platform. the night air bites at your skin, painting goosebumps in its wake. you’re about ready to just sit down on the ground and curl into a frustrated, exhausted ball when he crouches down, fingers straightening and smoothing the lapels of your coat. “well, I can’t really help with the sore knees and the hankering for banh mi part, but I’m pretty sure you’re cold because you’ve had your buttons undone this entire time. dummy.”

he buttons your jacket quickly and deftly, careful to avoid pinching you in the process. a particular kind of warmth bubbles up in your chest at his concentrated expression — kenji likes to maintain his effortless, reckless reputation, but when it comes down to the bare bones of it all, he’s still the type of guy who’ll button his girlfriend’s coat for her. on the walk from the subway to your apartment, his arm doesn’t leave your body once, keeping you close to his side and shielded from the wind.

“I’m not a dummy.”

“sure, dummy.”

(discovery number four: body heat — specifically, kenji futakuchi’s body heat — is by far the most effective way to stay warm.)

5. december 23rd, 12:01pm.

“who’s your best friend?” the question pops into your mind and out of your mouth almost instantaneously. kenji, who’s lounging on the sofa next to you, turns, eyebrows furrowed. there’s a small douglas fir in the corner of the room, minimally decked with what ornaments you could “diy” from around the house: snowflakes made of sticky notes, bedazzled plastic utensils, etc. several small packages have been haphazardly tossed around the tree’s base, yours neatly wrapped in red tissue paper and string, kenji’s covered in newspaper and excessive scotch tape. (he tried. maybe not his best, but he tried.)

“depends,” he says, turning off his phone and tossing it onto the carpet. “what’s your definition of best friend?”

“you know,” you say, helplessly splaying your fingers. “monica and rachel. frodo and sam. taylor swift and karlie kloss.”

“hold on,” kenji says, holding up a hand. “didn’t taylor swift and karlie kloss have a falling out?”

“yeah, but for the sake of the argument,” you insist. you narrow your eyes. “wait. how do you know about that?”

“you talk about it every time you listen to that one album, which is at least once a month,” kenji says with a grin. “probably more like twice, actually.”

“oh.” you flush, making a mental note to use earbuds more often. “anyways. answer the question.”

“wait, but you just gave me a bunch of examples,” kenji complains. he glances briefly out the window, which is iced over like a sugar cookie, obscuring the snowscape outside. mariah plays faintly in the background, jingling and whistle tones echoing through the halls. “you didn’t define anything.”

“a best friend,” you begin, faltering and taking a moment to think. a best friend… what is a best friend, really? you frown for a moment before smiling brightly. “a best friend is a commitment. it’s when you commit to being there for somebody when they need you. and it’s when you commit to finding that person when you need them, too.”

kenji lets out a low whistle. “okay then, socrates.”

“it wasn’t that deep,” you say with a laugh. “so. who’s yours?”

kenji grins boyishly, face lighting up like a christmas tree topper. “easy. you’re my best friend.”

oh. you weren’t expecting that. your chest gives an involuntary little thump of pleasure. “me? what about kamasaki?”

“mmm,” kenji muses, counting on his fingers. “he’s, like, my fourth best friend. maybe third on a good day. but you’re the one I go to first.”

you have the sudden urge to wrap your limbs around him like a koala and never let go; only your dignity keeps you from tackling him right then and there. you clear your throat, praying he can’t hear your thoughts — he’d never let you live it down. “you’re mine, too.”

kenji doesn’t respond, just smiles and rolls off the couch onto the floor with a thud, spreading out on the carpet like a seastar. the silence doesn’t bother you, though — silence (what little you can get of it) is comfortable with you two. plus, it’s never really silent. there’s always something there, something very undefinable but very real.

(discovery number five: you are in love.)

#you guys seemed to really like the last of these so I might make it a series??#cackles #also ly if you see this the last one was supposed to be for the event #I'm sorry it's so late #also I got carried away and made it a whole thing #I hope it still counts T-T #futakuchi kenji #futakuchi kenji x reader #futakuchi #futakuchi x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu drabbles #hqcorenet

360 notes · View notes

headheartbellarke · 4 years

Text

DISTRACTED | Charlie Gillespie

Requested by anon: “5 times reader (girlfriend) is almost distracted by a shirtless Charlie and one time she actually is.” PAIRING(s): Charlie Gillespie x fem!reader WORDS: 1.6k WARNING(s): some charlie thirst, what’s new ;) SUMMARY: 4 times Y/N is almost distracted by her shirtless boyfriend and 1 time she actually is.

You pride yourself over the fact that you never get distracted, no matter what. But sometimes, just sometimes, you can’t help it.

Especially when your boyfriend looks like that.

You sigh, running a hand through your hair. Your eyes feel as if they are burning, and the ever-persistent headache of yours seems to be particularly intense today.

Yet, pushing all that tiredness away, you keep typing, typing, typing. The deadline for your essay that carries twenty per cent of your grade of your final year of college is tomorrow, and you’ve still got three hundred words to write.

Three hundred words does not seem like a lot on any other day, but after three cups of coffee and seven hours of staring at your laptop screen, it feels like death. The fact that you seem to be in a rut right now doesn’t help, either.

You scrounge around your brain, trying to pull ideas from each fold, but it’s useless. Maybe it’s the exhaustion, or maybe it’s because of your boyfriend, Charlie, who has currently resorted to painting your toenails after not getting any sort of attention from you for the past few hours.

Ever since lockdown started, you and your boyfriend have been living together in your shared apartment in Toronto. You two have been planning to move in together for a while, but his work and your college always seemed to be obstacles. But this lockdown gave you both the perfect opportunity – plus, it was time, too. You two have been dating for more than four years – although, you’ve had a crush on him for as long as you can remember, but the intensity of it was realized only in the moment when he kissed you after an amazing prom together – you guys went together because you were best friends and loved being around each other more than anything. But the fact that there could be something more, something hidden in years of friendship seemed unlikely to the both of you before that day.

“Done.” He says, proudly. Your eyes leave your screen to look at the beautiful emerald colour on your toenails. You smile at him, and say, “That’s gorgeous, Char. Where’d you find it?”

He shrugs, a lopsided smile on his face. “It was in the bottom of your bag.”

You nod. “Right. I bought it the day before my last offline exam ended. I forgot.”

He smiles. “Now, will you pay me some attention?”

You purse your lips and pretend to be thinking. “Hmm… tempting, but no. I still have to get this done.”

He groans, dramatically. “You have been ignoring me for past hundred hours!”

You chuckle, ruffling his hair. “You’re so dramatic. It’s only been half a day. Now, go away. I need to finish this.”

He groans, again, and you wonder if he’s finally given up.

Instead, he rolls off the bed, and stands taller, leaning against the doorframe. “Y/N?”

You hum in question, as he makes a show out of taking off his T-shirt.

You bite your lip and remember how long it has been since you’ve run your hands on his chest. But you know that he’s doing this on purpose, to get a fraction of your attention. He knows and is proud of the fact that he has a hold over you, and the fact that even after four years, he still gives you butterflies over the slightest of smiles.

So, instead of giving in, you crawl under your covers with your laptop and decide to work there, as you suddenly gain inspiration, and thank yourself for not being distracted by your boyfriend’s absolutely beautiful body.

“Oh, come on!”

The second time hit happens, it’s a Tuesday morning, and you’re giving an exam. Your laptop is in front of you, the face of your teacher and classmates filling your screen, as the sound of your pen scratching against your answer sheet fills the room.

You bite the end of your pen, pondering over a question when you suddenly hear your boyfriend’s voice. You look up, and notice him, shirtless, and talking on the phone to someone.

“Yeah, I mean, we could do that…” He says, and your eyes trail across his back, as he stares out the window on the wall opposite to you.

“No, Mom, we’re not gonna drive to Canada. I’m not that crazy!” He exclaims, and you arch your neck to get a better view of him, and the sweatpants hanging low on his hips.

“Sure, I can ask Y/N…” He says, and you quickly avert your eyes back to your paper, just in time to hear your teacher call out your name.

“Y/N? What are you looking at?” She asks, and you adjust your headphones, clearing your throat.

“I thought someone was at the door. Sorry, Ms. Harrington.” You’re painfully aware of the warmth spreading through your cheeks, and as she nods, you start writing again.

You hear Charlie whisper a ‘sorry’, and you smile at him – he thinks that the reason your teacher just called you out is because he was going to ask you something.

You don’t correct him – his ego doesn’t need to know the fact that you were almost distracted.

Just one more question, you think. One more question, and you’re done with this semester.

But your mind is wandering, and the fact that you still have thirty minutes left doesn’t help. When this exam started, you thought that you wouldn’t be able to finish it in time and wrote as fast as you could, but now there’s plenty of time and just one, tiny answer left.

You rest your elbows on your desk and check on your classmates. Everyone is frantically scribbling, and you smile evilly at the fact that you’re not one of them right now.

“Honey? You have a minute?”

You hear Charlie from behind you. You nod, and say, “I’m listening.” You don’t turn back, since you have to keep an eye on your teacher. (She is knitting right now, for some reason.)

“You wanna go somewhere for the holidays?” He says, his raspy morning voice causing goosebumps to appear on your skin.

“I’m not sure… I mean we just came back from Maui last month – do you think it’s wise to go somewhere again?”

“Well, we’ll maintain social distancing, and use masks.”

“I’m not sure…”

“Come on, it’s our fifth anniversary!”

You finally look at him, and your breath catches in your throat. He’s shirtless, as usual. You mentally curse him as you think that you need to add ‘no being shirtless for no reason’ to your household rules. (Currently, you have three: one, no disturbing the other while working; two, following the chore chart; three, no spilling coffee or red wine on the white living room rug.) (The last one has occurred more times than one might expect.)

You focus on keeping your eyes trained on his, but you still struggle to form words. “I – not a wise idea…”

He grins, understanding the situation, as you avert your eyes back to your paper.

“Please, baby?”

You know he’s pouting.

“Fine.” You say, just to get him off your back.

“You’re the best!” He presses a kiss to your cheek and is instantly gone. As your mind still tries to hold on to the frayed strings of the warmth and the smell of his presence, you pray that your classmates didn’t notice the interaction.

You smile at Charlie’s mother, who is talking animatedly on your phone.

“Then, I told Meg to get some sugar, but she bought salt instead, and to top that, she dumped the entire bowl into my batter! Now, it tastes like absolute shit!” She glares at Megan, Charlie’s sister, who smiles sheepishly from behind her.

You laugh. “Like brother, like sister.”

“You know it.” She says, her French accent thick.

“So, I was thinking… Maybe, after the holidays, we could fly back to Dieppe? It’s not like we’re gonna go to college any time soon, so –”

“Yes, please! I miss you guys so much. You know, last night –”

She starts to say something else, but your boyfriend is doing push ups in front of you, and it’s really, really, really hard to focus, especially when his body is glistening under the afternoon sun.

He seems to feel your gaze, and sharply turns towards you, while you quickly look back to his mother.

“–but the point is, I miss you two.” She finishes, while Megan nods. “Me too, sis. It’s so boring here without you two.”

You smile and can feel warmth in your stomach. “Of course. I miss you guys, too. Charlie’s so boring.”

“Hey!”

+1.

You exhale and close the lid of your laptop. “I’m done!” You yell, and Charlie instantly appears at the door, and runs towards the bed you’re currently seated on, and jumps atop.

“Finally! I missed you!” He says, wrapping an arm around your torso, pulling you closer.

“I missed you too, baby. But now I’m done with all my assignments, so I’m all yours for the next two weeks!” You sit on his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck.

He grins, and your eyes avert to his chest, but this time, you let yourself be distracted, because after weeks of sleep deprivation and pure torture, you deserve this.

You smile, connecting your lips, and run your hands on his chest. He smiles against the kiss, and you whisper, “I love you so much.”

“And I love you so much.”

as always feedback and reblogs are highly appreciated!

525 notes · View notes

struggling-with-time · 4 years

Text

Rainy days [Corpse x reader]

Paring: Corpse husband x Female!reader

Summary: “corpse x fem!reader ( she’s also a youtuber ) where they are just friends for a few years, but reader has been developing feelings for a while now. with corpse’s fan base growing so quickly, there’s also a lot of growing attention from other girls ( fans & other social media influencers ). corpse is happy with all the attention, while it is breaking the reader’s heart more every day. basically, super angsty lol and it’s totally up to you how you want to end it!” requested by anon

“please make one where like the reader and corpse fought so its like raining outside and yk the cliche type” requested by anon

Warnings: Angst and jealousy, kinda sad, I’m sorry

Words: 1.8k

A/N: Open for requests. Two requests for one.

Read part 2 cloudy afternoons here

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

You’re happy for Corpse, of course you are. What good friend wouldn’t be happy for their friend when they suddenly start to shoot for the stars? You definitely would. Right? It’s not like it hurts to watch him take in all these girls that throw themselves at him, he has never been happier for the many years you’ve known him. His YouTube channel is finally paying the bills for him, and you’re happy he doesn’t have to fear getting an eviction note, for dancing on the line a little too long. You’re happy that he has all these new friends. You’re happy he’s enjoying himself. You’re happy, because he’s happy. So why does it hurt so much?

You’ve had feelings for your best friend for quite some time. You tried to push them away, which in return just seemed to cultivate them and make them stronger. You tried your damn best just to be his quirky happy best friend that was along with him for the ride. You never minded being the one to pick up the pieces when he fell apart. He would do the same for you… He would do the same for you, right?

You wipe away a tear escaping from your eye. You’re sitting in the shower crying on the floor. This is really what you’ve become? You think to yourself, as you lean your head back against the wall, looking up at the wooden ceiling.

He would do the same for you…

You dryly laugh to yourself, of course he wouldn’t, because then he would have known when you started pulling away. You wipe the tears away, get up and rise off your face once more, before stepping out. You look at where your mirror used to be. You took it down, not able to face yourself was easier than to accept this is just how you look permanently now. Dark circles underneath your eyes, as they’ve sunken quite a bit.

You kind of forgot how you really looked sometimes, until you caught yourself in something reflective, like your pc when it ran out of power, or your metallic glazed mug. You smile bitterly at the memory, Corpse had bought it to you when you reached 100.000 subs on YouTube, saying the play button wasn’t enough. It used to be a prized possession, now it was one of your worst.

You’re happy you build your YouTube brand on variety gaming, without a face cam. You couldn’t imagine having to explain away the way you looked. The monotone in your voice was hard enough.

I was just having an off day

Sorry, kind of sick today

My microphone isn’t picking up my voice probably.

You sigh to yourself as you collect your phone, and your empty bag. The fridge doesn’t fill itself. You’re pretty sure your fans caught onto something being wrong by the 4th excuse. You lock the door behind you, and glace up at the sky. It seems to be getting darker. You sigh as you realize you’re not going to be back home before it’s raining.

You walk the short distance down to the bus as you wait for it to arrive, you scroll through your twitter feed. It’s filled with pretty girls, much prettier than you are, throwing themselves at Corpse. You get a sudden urge to throw your phone into the passing traffic, but money has been tight lately with your down tuning of content, to take more time to be able to self-pity in the living room with a shitty romance show going on.

You really lost your best friend to your own feelings, huh. What an anticlimax.

You step onto the bus, not noticing the black dressed, black masked guy in the end of it. Watching you intentionally. If you had been able to read minds, you would hear the ongoing battle in his head on whether or not to approach you.

The bus pulls up the grocery store and you get off. Not sparing the other two passengers getting off a second thought. You pull your jacket closer together, as the wind starts getting colder. You finally arrive in the store, just a few seconds before the rain starts to drop.

The calming ominous music of the store fills your eyes, as you focus on getting something edible that isn’t directly just sugar with more sugar. You pick your groceries carefully, nothing that needs a lot of preparation. But if you eat one more tv meal, you’re going to throw it up. You’re too distracted by what pasta to choose, that you don’t realise the guy in black has now passed you for the 5th time, while you’re in aisle 9.

You choose both and head for the register. You sigh as you watch the long line, there’s only one way out, and you’re certainly not leaving your groceries now. You step in line. And pull out your phone. The lock screen taunting you with a picture of you and Corpse mushed together somehow in his gaming chair, you’re pretty sure it was Dave that took the photo. You shake your head and check the time. The bus just left. You sigh knowing there is a little over an hour before the next one leaves. Fucking public transport.

It finally becomes you, you watch the price tick up further and further. You take your card out. Swipes it through.

Declined.

What? You try it again

Declined.

C’mon, it has got to work. You try again

Declined.

And again

Declined.

And again

Declined.

You smile apologetic to the cashier, as you start to figure out what you won’t be needing too much.

“I’ll pay for her.” A deep voice speaks further down the line. You know exactly the person whose voice that is.

“Please, you don’t have to-“ You watch as Corpse steps out of the line and puts a box of cereal on the register for the cashier to ring up with the rest of your stuff.

“I don’t-“

“That’ll be 79 dollars and 32 cents, please.” The cashier ignores you.

Corpse pays and gets the receipt, knowing you’re going to beg him for you to pay him back. You used to do the same when you were little. Corpse stands by as he watches you pack your groceries, and he waits for you. He barely recognized you in the bus. It’s been weeks since you last spoke, and even longer since you last saw each other. He knows you were getting bad, but not this bad. He don’t know why he never reached out he knows he should. But there are too many unsaid things hanging in the air, and neither of you wanting to be the one to pick the first one.

He reaches out to take one of the two bags. But you take it right underneath him, and walk to the doors, leaving him to hurry after or be left behind.

“Y/N I-“

He gets surprised by the rain, he hadn’t noticed the darkening sky earlier. You keep walking until he calls out after you again.

“Y/N! Please!”

You stop in you tracks. To think you had missed hearing your name from his lips, he uses it like it’s not the only thing you have left that’s your own.

He jogs the remaining distance and puts his hand on your shoulder, and you let him turn you around to make him face you. He’s not sure if it’s the rain, or if it’s tears that’s starting to fall. He takes the rest of your face in, the dark circles, the clear weight loss. He know, you don’t know how much you don’t look like yourself.

“Listen, thank you, I’ll pay you back next month. But if you’re not going to say anything, I have places to be, and-“

He puts his hand on her chin caressing it. She suddenly looks so small standing there in front of him. You quickly pull yourself back, wanting to lean into his touch, but knowing that it would only make what hurts, hurt more in the end.

“What did you want?” You snap at him. And something snaps in him too, as his brows furrows together.

“Oh I don’t know. Say hi to my best who just up and disappeared from the face of earth two months ago. I wonder what I want.” He snaps back at you, his deep voice nearly emitting a growl of frustration from him.

“So what, that’s what it takes 2 months before you want to find me. Did you get tired of all those girls throwing themselves at you? Did you get tired of your new friends you just cast me aside from? Did you get tired of all the money? Please do tell.” You stretch out your arms in a welcoming stance.

Corpse takes a step back, you’ve never yelled at him like this before. Tears streaming down your face as you’re soothing anger.

“…You think I threw you aside?” Corpse sucks in a breath waiting for your anger to come at him, but instead you suddenly look small again.

“Didn’t you Corpse? The excuse why I could never come over anymore, why you never had time. I was happy for you, you know, I supported you all the way. Heck I even fucking loved you, and you cast me aside, you up and threw away so many memories and a long friendship, just because I suddenly didn’t fit into your new group.” You look him straight in the eyes. “Corpse, I’m tired okay. I can’t take it anymore. I can’t keep picking up your pieces and help you reassemble yourself, for you to keep casting me aside. I can’t do this anymore. I don’t need your pity; I don’t need anything from you. I’ll make sure you get the money first thing next month.”

She takes a step away from him, the before intimate atmosphere now fully escaped.

“All I ask is that we part here. I love you too much to watch you fall apart again.” Your voice is trembling as you turn around heading for the bus stop, leaving Corpse in the rain to fend for himself.

#corpse husband #corpse #corpse husband x reader #corpse x reader #corpse husband fic #corpse husband fanfic #corpse husband x y/n #corpse husband imagine #delias own writing

869 notes · View notes

londonskies · 4 years

Text

DON’T SAY THE S WORD!!

https://images.app.goo.gl/JKKNVtwZNGAVVwzB9

In which Corpse has a secret girlfriend and his insomnia is driving them both up the wall, putting precious Sykkuno in danger because he said the word “Sleep”.

Hi! This is just a once in a blue moon, feel good, fluff fic cause I have commitment issues on my writing lol.

Yes, my writing style is long winded, I’m really sorry, but I hope you enjoy it!

credits to u/balderdash_lee on reddit

Corpse had not slept for close to 50 hours by the time that they had started their latest month prior pre-planned plasmophobia session with Rae, Sykkunno and Toast, but it was like he was hyped up on sugar for the last hour or so and Y/n was really beginning to get worried.

This was a tattletale sign of the huge crash her boyfriend was about to go through, and yet the stubborn man just would not step away from his computer.

She had tried everything, from luring him with pizza (to which he had snatched a few slices and had just retreated to his gaming room once more) to telling him that there was a fire in the kitchen (to which he replied was virtually impossible given how meticulous Y/n was in the kitchen) to faking an injury (which corpse called bullshit on without even looking at her).

It was getting really frustrating and she knew for a fact that the longer her boyfriend was going to wait this out, the worse he was going to feel.

And the worse he was going to act.

He would never hurt anyone, ever. The man was the definition of a soft boi beyond his brain meltingly amazing voice. But when he was beyond bone dead tired like he was right now, he had the tendency to act mean, and the only person who had the capability of calming him down in the middle of the pandemic was Y/n, and she would have to hijack his stream.

The stream that was filled with hundreds of thousands of people who didn’t even know that their precious Corpse was in a relationship with anyone.

Would she have the chance to mute him before he went on his tired, angry, borderline crazy monologue? She would try, but probably not.

Y/n had to bring out the big guns.

Rae and Toast were pretty easy people to conspire with and were almost always down to do pranks and other shit that Y/n came up with, and always, always down to do whatever it took to get Corpse to take care of himself.

Sykkuno though, bless him, the cutest, most clueless person Y/n had ever met.

He was always very concerned for Corpse’s health but was the worst at going incognito. So Rae and Toast were the ones who used their code word (lights out) and had always been the ones who had the role of making sure Sykkuno knew what to do.

“Aaaaaaaaaaanddd, lights out baby!” Rae screamed as she made her way past Sykkuno at the entrance of the house they were in at the moment, but Sykkuno, the precious little boy that he is, just watched Rae with a bewildered face, getting even more confused when Toast made his way past him as well, whispering “Lights out.” and moving back to the truck in the game.

From inside, Corpse’s character was busy laughing at a joke he made about a picture in the wall and had not noticed the other two missing. He did notice though, when Sykkuno appeared near him to ask him what was up before convulsing and dropping to the floor.

Corpse’s laugh was noticeably more manic now, getting a lot more high pitched and erratic. For a second, Sykkuno laughed with him, then when Corpse’s went on for too long, suddenly looked confused on his stream, turning to face the general vicinity he Corpse’s character was.

So he spoke through their always open discord chat. “Uhh, Corpse? You okay there buddy?”

The stubborn man just kept laughing, Y/n increasingly getting concerned as she watched all 4 player’s streams on different devices one room over. Rae and Toast were chatting about the pills in the truck, so as to not alarm Corpse of the lowkey distraction they were doing to finish the game easy (aka getting at least 3 of them killed), and then giving excuses to stop streaming and giving Y/n a chance to haul his ass to bed.

Sykkuno on the other hand, was now (against all plans spoken about prior) continuing to talk to Corpse.

“Corpse?” the timid man spoke once more, finally reaching the ever more manic Corpse.

All of a sudden, an eerie silence fell around the two of them, settling for a few seconds before getting filled by a flat “Yea?” from Corpse.

Y/n could almost hear the sentence that Sy would reply to that, and at that moment, she knew, they were fucked.

With a quick “Fuckin shite” to both Rae and Toast’s chat, Y/n bounded over to Corpse’s office, hearing tail end of the question that was about to make Corpse’s brain go kaboom.

“You sound tired man, maybe you should sleep for a bit?”

She knew he only meant good. Sykkuno was just one of those guys that would never want to hurt anyone. She knew it, Corpse knew it, everyone knew it.

But her secret boyfriend was sleep deprived and going batshit crazy because of it, and currently, his trigger word was the word Sleep.

Y/n would give poor Sy a viking funeral if she can’t stop this.

“I am not tire-” Corpse was pretty intimidating when he wanted to be, and I knew that that low voice of his would scare every single hitman in a 1000 mile radius when used in a booming, angry way. And the way his voice was escalating was sure to end in said booming, angry way.

Y/n sprinted into his recording room, only partially wincing at the horridly loud bang the door made when she wrenched it open to fling herself at her boyfriend. The world seemed to slow as she soared through the air, uncaring if she knocked things out of the way.

Gotta make sure their baby Sy would never be at that end of Corpse’s fury.

She partially landed on his lap, torso hanging off the side. It hurt as her ribs made contact on the armrest of his computer chair, but it stopped his tirade with a surprised “Ooof!” and knocked him away from his PC.

“Honey!! Don’t yell at Sy!”

“Y/n???”

Oh shit.

Of course Sykkuno had to yell out her name during a stream. She had bet Toast 200 dollars that Sy would be the one to drop her name, and it was high time she cashed in.

Y/n fixed herself on Corpse’s lap, shoving his headphones off of him and forcing him into a hug. Of course he protested, but eventually relaxed in her grip, muttering about how his eyes and wrists hurt now but he promised to play with the OTV peeps and his insomnia hit him too hard these past few days.

“Baby,” he whispered hoarsely, his grip tightening on her as well. It only took a moment for Y/n to realize that her boyfriend was shaking, trying not to fall apart. “It hurts.”

She ran her fingers through his hair, putting a kiss on the top of his head as he relaxed even more. They had to move to a more comfortable space soon or else Corpse would fall asleep here and she would have to move him (which at 5 feet, is not very easy.) but he was relaxing and Y/n couldn’t make herself distract him from that.

“I know babe, it’s okay. We’ll breathe through it. You can do it, I know you can.” Corpse would never fess up to crying, but the growing patch of tears on her sweater was evidence of the amount of pain that he was experiencing.

His dedication was amazing, but a lot of the time he sacrificed his health for it. So as much as she didn’t want to hold him back, sometimes she really just had to step in and meddle to save him from himself.

They stayed like that for a while, Y/n occasionally having to coach him through his breathing, but overall, they were doing fine.

Y/n smiled into his hair when he finally stopped shaking. “That’s it babe, you’re doing amazing.” she whispered, moving to get off his lap. She wasn’t the lightest person despite her shortness, her curves never letting her be skinny, so she was sure that her sitting on his lap was making his legs go numb. Corpse, on the other hand, only held on tighter, basically turning into a koala at this point.

“Corpse, Honey, your legs are gonna go numb, babe.” she giggled. She tried to put him at arm’s length, but her apparently octopus boyfriend had planned to never let her go.

“No.” he mumbled, pressing his face ever tighter into her sweater, making her giggle, in turn, making him smile.

Eventually, he detached his face from her sweater and peeked up at his girlfriend, the visual of his tousled hair, pout, one sparkling eye and the other now only partially covered by his falling eyepatch, but both with smudged eyeliner and mirth, made her melt. “Don’t go, please?” Y/n giggled at him. “I’m not gonna leave babe, I just gotta get off your lap before I make your legs undergo hypoxia.”

“I’d let them cut off my legs if it meant having you here forever.” if she hadn’t already fallen in love with this man, she would say that this was the moment that she fell in love with him. But falling in love with him over and over again was probably something that she would never stop doing, even if Corpse ever decided to not love her back one day.

They were jolted out of their happy little bubble when they heard a loud screech coming from his headphones making a sound more akin to blasting speakers than headphones, which had apparently fallen just beside them on the table instead of the floor like Y/n anticipated. “STOP YOUR LOVING AND GO TO SLEEP CORPSE!” Rae screeched, making the both of them laugh out loud, but one look at his screen stopped them at their tracks.

Corpse was miraculously still alive in game, Rae’s character moving back and forth in front of his.

Rae… was streaming, right?

Oh shit numero dos.

One look at the chat showed that they had just outed themselves. The sappy couple making everyone watching go absolutely bonkers at the chat.

“WHO IS THAT?” -ijustlovemakingsounds

“HONEY???? BABE?????” - corpseybae

“WHAT IS HAPPENING??” -randomuser

“IS CORPSE OKAY?” -ShinigamiEyes

“CORPSE??” -corpsekkuno28

“BABY?????” -honestlywtf

“HE’S SO SWEET OMGOMGOMGOMG!!!!!!!” -cutiepiecorpsey

“WAIT WAIT WAIT IS HE OKAY????” -omgilovehim

“WHO THE HECK??” -wifeyyyycorpse

Both parties were staring wide eyed at the screens. Even with slow mode on, the chat was going a hundred miles per hour and all they were seeing were screaming chats in all caps zooming up.

For a second Y/n just kept staring quietly, and then the first giggle escaped her and soon, both of them were a giggling pile of sweaters and limbs on Corpse’s computer chair, not even trying to stop their antics. Rae screamed another “YOU’RE BOTH CUTE AND WE ALL KNOW IT STOP AND SLEEP!!”

The laughter seemed endless.

It was the sound of Y/n’s phone ringing from the other room that finally got her up from the warm confines of Corpse’s lap. But before she left, she was going to make sure that Corpse was not just going to continue streaming in her absence.

“Sooo….” Y/n turned them over so that she was facing the screen and not him, talking directly into the mic as she scrambled for the headphones she had shoved off of his head. “Yes Corpse Husband has a Corpse wife and she’s now taking him back to their coffins because the hubby is a stubborn piece of shit and has not slept in more than 50 hours.”

The casual information drop made the chat go even crazier, people now freaking out about her, trying to find out who she was, what she did, when and where they met, stuff like that. “I’ll see what I can do to answer your questions, you simps. But I gotta knock him out for now, and I promise you won’t be left hanging.”

She felt him wrap his arms around her waist once more, feeling him press his face tightly against her back. “Baby,” he started to say, but Y/n cut him off with a few pats to wherever she could reach behind her.

“Sorry, but the jackass is now cut off from the mic and shall be cut off until he sleeps, so I shall be the one to say, good day to you sirs and madams, he shall see you on the next one! Bye!!!!”

Then a pause, and a quietly frustrated “Hun, how do you turn it off??”

The chat was flooded with variations of “She’s so cute!!” and as tempted as he was to keep it going for a bit, he knew that it would upset and worry his adorable girlfriend to do so.

So from his vantage point, he just mumbled a quick “Bye!” before cutting off stream. Normally, he would stay and read superchats and see how many new members he had gained, but this time, his tiny, but determined girlfriend was dead set on getting him to chill his ass out.

And he let you.

He watched as you dragged him off to bed, tucking him in all the fluffy blankets you’d gotten for his comfort, smiled as you eagerly burrowed yourself under the fluff with him, sighed contentedly as your warmth surrounded him as you cuddled into him.

He basked in your presence as he held you back just as tight, feeling you plant a kiss in his hair and smile as he relaxed ever more. From across the room, the mirror reflected the image of the two of you, touching the deepest recesses of the soul he would never claim to have.

And as he drifted off, he watched as you glowed in the streaks of the fading afternoon sun, peeking through their heavy curtains, he thought:

What more was there to ask for?

435 notes · View notes